The Son-In-Law Of A Prestigious Household Wants A Divorce-Chapter 139: Mana

Boom!

Sharen looked as though she could actually hear that explosive sound effect.

That was how shocked she was—and how utterly unprepared she’d been for the answer she’d just heard.

“Uh, Isaac?”

Rejected, Sharen sprang to her feet and seized Isaac’s cheeks with both hands.

“A-are you hurt? What’s going on?! I mean, you still look as handsome as always! S-so is it something else?!”

“…….”

“Doctor! No—Mage! We’re heading for the Mage Tower right now, so hang in there!”

“…….”

“Is it because of that bump on your head?! Is that it?! Just how hard did the Grandmaster hit you—”

“It’s not that, so sit down.”

Isaac accepted the hair tie and gently eased Sharen back into her seat.

While tying up her hair, he gave a brief explanation.

By the time he was done, Sharen whipped her head around to stare at him.

“So now you’re going to live recklessly?!”

“…Not recklessly. Just… a little differently.”

He wasn’t even sure this counted as training, but the order was to try it, so—

Isaac sighed and looked straight at Sharen.

Seeing her blinking up at him, he said something he never would have uttered in the past.

“You’re cute.”

“…?!”

“Ahem. I’m just saying whatever pops into my head. Feels like I’ve been hit by the ‘Vassalization’ thing, too.”

“Ah.”

For an instant Sharen’s face clouded, but only for a heartbeat.

She brightened right back up and smiled.

“Tell me about it!”

“...”

Just like last time,

Sharen had grown into a strong-willed girl.

Since crying wouldn’t change anything, she tried even harder to stay cheerful.

Because that struck Isaac as a little heartbreaking, he gently patted her head.

“Sorry—that was thoughtless of me.”

“No, it’s fine! You said it’s part of your training. And you’re having a tough time too. We’re all in the same boat!”

Sharen shook her head in rhythm with his pats, grinning ear to ear as she drifted naturally into another topic.

“Nureumdol made it back okay, right?”

“…Well, he went back to Helmut with Jonathan, so he’s probably doing fine.”

Because the situation had been urgent, the eldest son Lohengrin stayed behind in the north.

Jonathan had left as a messenger to deliver the news to Helmut, and Nureumdol went with him.

The two had gotten pretty close—he could just picture them nabbing a sunny spot in the palace garden.

“But Isaac, how did you get that bump?”

Sharen rose halfway to poke at his head. Isaac flinched from the sting, which only made her laugh harder.

“Haah, don’t even ask. It’s because—”

His explanation cut off when the Grandmaster stepped out of the tent, hair a mess, lazily swishing her tail.

The moment her drowsy eyes fell on Isaac by the campfire, her tail bristled upright.

“Well, well. Isn’t this the disciple who dared call her esteemed master small-minded?”

“…Master, you told me to speak my mind.”

“Did you have to slice so cleanly, though?! Your words gouged my heart until the very moment I drifted off last night!”

“I had trouble sleeping too—because of this bump.”

“Mm, my apologies. I lost my temper for a moment.”

Right—this lump wasn’t the proud fruit of some intense training session.

Then again, maybe it was a result of training, in a way?

Speech is humanity’s most effective means of communication.

Isaac had always tried to handle it with care, but—

At his two mentors’ urging to fix that first, he’d spoken bluntly for once…and promptly got smacked.

“Grrrgh!”

Stretching, Nameless shuffled out of the same tent.

“Awake already, I see.”

Isaac greeted her politely; Nameless yawned and nodded.

“Amazed I didn’t sleep in, considering how ‘frivolous’ I supposedly am?”

“……”

“Puh-huh, just teasing.”

Chuckling at Isaac’s reaction, Nameless set about preparing breakfast.

* * *

“Oh?”

Several days later—

By the time the distant spire of the Mage Tower finally came into view, Sharen was sharing Isaac’s saddle, practically tucked against his chest.

Riding beside them, Damien stretched both hands toward her.

“Now then, how many this time?”

“Ughhhhh.”

A former thief, Damien had nimble fingers; he was playing odd‑or‑even with a fistful of coins to keep Sharen entertained.

‘Well, it is making the ride quieter,’ Isaac thought as he guided the horse in steady silence.

Acting on instinct came easily enough—talking was harder than he’d imagined, but he was still giving it his best shot.

“Isaac, what do you think? Odd or even?”

“...”

He stole a glance at the fist, smacked his lips, and answered.

“Odd.”

“Then I’m even!”

‘Why ask if you’d already chosen…?’

“The answer—”

Damien opened his hand. It held nothing.

“—is blank!”

“Red Flames!”

In the same instant Sharen arrested the “swindler.”

Had he not tied a rope to the saddle, Damien would’ve been tossed clean off.

“Is that a skill you honed back in your pickpocket days? Impressive.”

“Ow‑ow‑ow—! Pickpocket? Do you realize how often you say things that sting?”

Hauling himself back into the seat, Damien grumbled that it had been funny, at least.

After a moment’s thought, Isaac asked,

“Senior, do you happen to have any cards?”

“Cards? Why? Can you play?”

“I was famous among the galley hands in my prime.”

Looking at today’s Isaac, that might be hard to imagine, but in his boatman days, he’d been neck‑deep in every sort of game.

He’d loved the feel of cards more than a sword—sometimes winning, sometimes losing.

Aside from his striking looks, he’d been no different from the usual faces crowding a gambling den.

“Haha.”

Like a magic trick, a full deck appeared in Damien’s palm.

“Wow.”

“Whoa.”

Both Sharen and Isaac breathed in unison; Damien smiled, pleased.

“Of course I’ve got cards. Had I known, we could’ve played poker a few rounds at night.”

“Hm. That would’ve been tough.”

“Ah—right.”

Swinging swords every night left little room for card tables.

From her spot in Isaac’s arms, Sharen craned her neck.

“Isaac, what’s poker? I don’t know how.”

“Hmm. I’ll teach you later, if we get the chance.”

“Yay!”

The rhythm of the hoofbeats changed—their horses had reached a perfectly cut stone road.

That meant they’d crossed into the Mage Tower’s domain.

The Tower functioned as an independent research institute.

Most mages were managed here; those found outside were either Tower‑born or on assignment.

Though effectively autonomous, they held one absolute tenet: never take part in wars between humans.

One’d sooner find them posted to places like the Malidan Barrier against monsters, or seconded to a royal court.

Even so, from the mages Isaac had met, most were talent supremacists with a subtle disdain for outsiders.

‘The Tower’s lack of real‑combat experience was one big reason they couldn’t stop the Transcendent race.’

Because they refused human wars, they proved helpless in battles against Transcendents.

Sadly, mages had been little more than rear support throughout that conflict—

And the Transcendents, for their part, regarded mages with extreme wariness.

“Hey, are we really allowed to just stroll into the Mage Tower like this?” Sharen asked, tilting her head.

Ordinarily one didn’t enter Tower grounds uninvited, but their party had already sent notice.

“Vivian went back ahead of us, to report what’s happening in the north. She told them we’d be coming too.”

“Vivian… who’s that?”

“…The mage stationed at the Malidan Barrier.”

“Ah—!”

“We went through thick and thin together in the Abyss Realm, and you forgot her just like that.”

****

When the clip-clop of hooves on the flagstones had settled into a steady rhythm, a hurried knot of mages appeared beyond the road.

Eight of them, all in robes, advancing in a straight line toward Isaac’s party.

“Doesn’t look like good news,” the Grandmaster muttered—and she was right.

At roughly twenty paces away, the mages leveled their staves and barked,

“Dismount.”

The mood was anything but friendly: they looked rattled, and their wariness ran deep.

“Do you lot really think twenty paces is distance?” Nameless clicked her tongue.

For the Grandmaster or Nameless, twenty paces could be closed in a heartbeat.

‘This is the very sort of incompetence that proved the Tower’s undoing,’ Isaac recalled.

With no real combat experience, Tower mages fell easier than anyone expected—and by the time they realized it, most of them were already dead.

“Mm-hmm.”

Isaac swung down from his horse, raised both hands, and stepped forward.

“I am Baron Logan of the Kingdom of Albion. I was informed that notice of our arrival had been sent ahead.”

“Baron Logan…? Ah! From the north?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

He’d hoped the air might lighten—only for the lead mage to snap,

“Lay down your sword and come here. We will conduct a body search.”

The hostility didn’t budge.

“…Is that how you treat a noble of the realm?”

A baron was still nobility; searching him without cause was hard to swallow.

“Outside ranks mean nothing in the Mage Tower, outsider.”

“...”

“To us, whether you’re noble or commoner, you’re all just inept deadweight.”

Their tone was crossing a line.

Isaac was the first to answer it.

“Want to see who’s deadweight? Let’s have at it.”

“Oh?”

“Pfft-hahaha!”

Sharen gaped at him; the Grandmaster covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

Embarrassed but unyielding, Isaac told himself, It’s training—just another form of training.

They weren’t about to ruin relations with the Tower over this, so he pressed harder.

“Go on then. See if your staff moves first, or my sword leaves its sheath.”

“Tch—can’t even bare your heart properly, being so brash,” Nameless said as she stepped forward, clearly intent on a demonstration rather than words.

The instant her hand touched the greatsword at her hip—

“W-wait just a moment!”

A familiar voice rang out from behind the mages.

Vivian, who had lost all her mana in the Abyss Realm and fallen into despair, came sprinting up, drenched in sweat.

Planting herself between the two sides, she cried,

“Th-these people are honored guests! You can’t treat them like this!”

“The Tower Master ordered a full search of everyone. You know that.”

“Even so, not these people! Why search those entering from outside?”

“...”

The mage let out a faint, irritated grunt, frowning as he turned aside.

Whatever had happened inside, it was serious enough to provoke such unreasonable demands.

Once the commotion had eased, Vivian bowed to the party.

“You’ve arrived. I apologize on the Tower’s behalf. Things are… rather dire right now.”

“Dire?” Isaac echoed.

She glanced around, then sighed and lowered her voice.

“Please keep this quiet, but… the Mage Tower has been robbed.”

“Robbed?”

“What, someone swipe a magic tool?” Nameless asked.

“If it were only a tool, we wouldn’t be like this. What was stolen is something handed down for ages… the Mana Core.”

The Mana Core— Isaac’s eyes went wide.

“The Mana Core?! The one the first Tower Master left to be used only in a crisis?!”

Vivian motioned him to hush and whispered, “Y-yes… it’s gone.”

“But why—”

Hold on.

Isaac’s thoughts began to spin.

In his previous life, even when the Transcendents ran rampant, the Tower never deployed the Mana Core.

‘Don’t tell me… that was why.’

Was it stolen at this very point in the timeline?

– – The End of The Chapter ––

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