Invincible
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#193
🕑 Added 2025-02-05 16:08:42 +0000 UTCRockefeller (8)
The room was silent.
Ders looked at Rockefeller with sweat trickling down his face, his eyes half-open.
“...Professor?”
Rockefeller did not respond.
He simply kept his eyes closed, showing only subtle expressions of anger or regret.
Ders, receiving no answer, asked again.
It was about the interrogation from earlier.
“Do you intend to remain silent forever?”
He was probably lost in his memories. Ders’ questions had been enough to trigger them.
But now was not the time.
“Rockefeller! How long do you plan to keep your mouth shut?”
“Stop wasting time, you bastard!”
This was no time for an extended recollection.
Students were so fed up with his sudden, long reveries that they were ready to throw stones at him.
At that moment, Rockefeller opened his eyes.
It seemed the recollection had finally ended.
It was just wishful thinking.
Rockefeller, with a contemplative expression, closed his eyes again.
“Oh, come on already… this guy….”
Frustrated beyond my limits, I grabbed a stone from the student beside me, ready to throw it at him.
Of course, I knew his situation.
I didn’t know the exact circumstances of how he learned such peculiar magic, but through related hidden scenarios, I knew the rough outline.
However, there was a reason people hesitated to progress this particular storyline:
It was unbearably tedious to listen to the long backstory of a mere supporting character who wasn’t even the main protagonist.
To summarize briefly...
Rockefeller’s village was burned, and Medel, who raised him, was killed. After wandering as a mercenary with his younger sibling, he met a strange old man who taught him a unique kind of magic. When the old man died, the time for revenge arrived.
- I heard Derkan is heading to the southern front. Come if you want. I can arrange a spot for you.
Thanks to a slightly eccentric commander, Rockefeller encountered Derkan, the target of his vengeance who had burned the slum.
What followed was predictable.
Having mastered the mysterious magic and honed his skills for years, Rockefeller struck at Derkan with a flawless strategy.
After a fierce battle, Derkan, having lost the hand holding his staff, collapsed onto the ground.
Standing over him, Rockefeller stepped on his chest, muttering about whether he remembered the slum and that he had never forgotten that day.
His rage poured out, but all he received from Derkan was not repentance, but a calm reflection.
- Do I remember? Of course. Memories of burning a place like that are hard to forget.
Rockefeller wanted to kill Derkan right then and there, but he held back.
He had carried a question for years that needed answering first.
- Why did Medel have to die?
When he asked why Medel had died, Derkan’s response was filled with confusion.
- The slum? And Medel... Oh, you mean that woman. That foolish woman. But what was she to you, anyway?
- Just answer the question.
- Your attitude is wrong. You’re going to kill me anyway, aren’t you? But for now, I hold the power to decide whether or not to answer. Isn’t that right?
At the time, Rockefeller seemed conscious that Derkan might die without ever answering, so he decided to reply to the question.
Though it was hard for him to say, he managed to voice the words:
- Mother... Medel was my mother.
The ache in his chest lasted only briefly.
Derkan, his eyes wide in surprise, sneered.
- No way. You’re far too old. If she were alive, she wouldn’t even be ten years old yet.
- Then it’s your turn to answer. I’ll ask again: why did Medel have to die?
- Because she carried a seed that should never have been sown.
Rockefeller pressed down harder on Derkan’s chest, glaring at him and demanding the truth.
Perhaps he acted so violently to hide his suspicions about the person who came to mind.
At that moment, Derkan coughed up blood and grinned.
"You're blaming the wrong person. Back then, I was just a lackey cleaning up after some idiot. I was only following orders."
"Orders?"
"Yeah, orders. But, you know...."
Derkan was a sharp observer.
"The child is alive, isn't he? The one she gave birth to."
At those sudden words, Rockefeller’s expression betrayed his anxiety.
"Ha... I only threw a guess, but I suppose he is alive?"
Soon after, Derkan’s face began to lose its strength, his pupils turning dull.
"Well, that works out. The more insurance, the better..."
Muttering ominous words until the very end, Derkan departed from the world.
The battle ended at sunset.
Among the few survivors, the kingdom’s famed magician, Derkan, had fallen, and the silhouette of a new figure stood tall. It marked the rise of someone new.
From that day on, people began to call him The Twilight Mage.
And from that day forward—
Rockefeller firmly embedded himself among the rebels.
Though he had always been dissatisfied with their usual conduct, the new commander he met was different.
He often prioritized the lives of civilians, something rare to see.
Outwardly carefree but deep within, he was a man of depth.
More importantly, if Derkan was receiving orders from anyone, that authority could only come from the royal family.
For Rockefeller, who now knew where his anger should be aimed, joining the rebellion was the perfect choice.
Thus, standing with the rebels, Rockefeller rose rapidly, making friends, gaining comrades, and even finding love.
Victory after victory eventually brought him and his comrades to the royal palace.
"Surprising, isn’t it? I thought they’d just flee."
"Indeed. The man’s got some backbone."
"Or maybe he’s given up? He knows he’d die regardless."
The one who remained until the very end was a disgraceful prince, abandoned even by the kingdom.
While his comrades fought to draw attention in the final battle, Rockefeller stormed into the prince’s quarters to kill him—
And froze when he saw a familiar face.
"Aldran...?"
"Hmm? Aldran? Ah, yes. I did use that name once. But how do you know it?"
The prince’s reaction mirrored Rockefeller’s surprise.
"Delken... was it Delken?"
Medel’s lover, Arcyon’s father, was none other than the disgraceful prince.
At that moment, Rockefeller vaguely realized the truth:
He was born with blood that should never have been mixed with that of a common woman.
Derkan had killed Medel to cover up this scandalous event.
Yet Rockefeller demanded answers.
Why had the prince, disguised in military uniform, come to the slums?
Why had he stood by as Medel died?
The prince explained:
He had been sent to war not to restore the empire’s dignity but to die honorably on the battlefield.
After a crushing defeat, he had fled disguised as a soldier and ended up in the slums.
That was how he met Medel, and eventually, her tragic death unfolded.
When Rockefeller pressed about her death, the prince’s answer was chilling.
"No reason. I knew she would die anyway."
"What?"
"There was no real reason. I grew up in comfort, had no interest in the throne, and nothing to be angry about. I simply lived satisfied with the privileges I was born into."
The ring he had given Medel was bait—meant to lead her child to death if he ever sought official recognition.
"You see, as human nature varies, I did it simply for pleasure."
The man Rockefeller had lived with for a month had been like that since birth.
Overcome with uncontrollable rage, Rockefeller exacted his revenge in the cruelest way possible—ensuring the prince suffered but didn’t die immediately.
Yet even in torment, the prince cackled madly, speaking chilling words:
"Derkan sent me a letter before he died. The boy is alive, isn’t he? The son Medel bore. Heh heh...."
The prince’s twisted smile carried deep meaning:
To truly end the war, Arcyon would have to die. As long as his bloodline existed, the royal family could always rise again.
And the one who knew this truth was none other than The Twilight Mage, a central figure in the rebellion.
Rockefeller, seeing the man about to shout toward his comrades, ended his life in an instant.
But his opponent was a madman who would stop at nothing to indulge in his twisted pleasures.
After the man’s death, Rockefeller, who had begun to relax, overheard his comrades talking one day.
"It’s not over yet. We need to make sure we finish the job."
"But Arcyon is Delken’s brother. Why not hide him somewhere else?"
"That’s absolutely not an option. You know there are still people who hope for the royal family’s return, don’t you? Even now, they’re searching for the rumored prince."
The man had shared that information with Derkan, spreading rumors of his illegitimate seed.
This news became the rallying cry for the power-hungry remnants of the fallen royalists to unite once again.
Upon hearing his comrades' secret discussions, Rockefeller fought alone to protect Arcyon.
But in the process, Arcyon was taken by those working to restore the royal family.
The result?
The short history of the principality tells it all.
Rockefeller’s comrades were all executed—beheaded one after another.
The commander, his friends, and even his lover were killed.
By Arcyon’s stubborn insistence—who had now become the emperor by accident—Rockefeller alone was spared.
However, he was exiled from the nation.
Wandering aimlessly like a broken man, he traveled until he reached the Empire, where he met Arkandric.
As a royal knight at the time, Arkandric had Rockefeller infiltrate the Shadow Sentinels as a spy.
After Arkandric’s retirement, Rockefeller ended up in Frostheart Academy.
Focusing solely on work to forget everything, Rockefeller rose quickly to the position of head professor at a relatively young age.
And this was the result.
“Hmm.”
I, too, realized I had rambled on for quite some time.
...Still, I guarantee my explanation was shorter than his.
“Hersel, what is the professor even thinking?”
At Limberton’s question, I shot Rockefeller a sharp glare.
"Probably sad, cliché, and boring thoughts."
Rockefeller’s hidden scenario was infamous—widely criticized as a story that managed to ruin good potential in Asares.
Even for veteran players like me, it was something I attempted once and never touched again.
Failures always have a reason...
***
Rockefeller, having finished his recollection, suddenly felt irritated.
It was because Hersel’s gaze was far more unpleasant than the others’.
Turning his head toward Ders’ question, he muttered,
“What was the question again?”
Ders sighed deeply, clearly exasperated.
"Your origins... No, just answer the core question. Why did you become a professor?"
Rockefeller blinked slowly before muttering as if to himself,
"...Escape."
“What?”
“No, it’s nothing. I don’t want to answer. Let’s move on to the main topic.”
Rockefeller scanned the room of students, his usual tone flowing like a calm stream.
“What you want is my punishment, isn’t it? Vermin like you seize any chance to tear me down.”
The students threw stones at him.
But Rockefeller deflected them effortlessly with telekinetic magic, his stance unwavering.
“Do as you please. I never wanted to teach idiots like you anyway.”
The students’ mouths dropped open in disbelief.
“That... that man?”
“Does he not understand the situation?”
“You think you’ll walk away unscathed? We’ll make sure you, and the other professors, face severe consequences!”
Rockefeller glanced at the other professors and sneered.
“Professors? Hah. Don’t make me laugh. Useless people who only knew how to nod obediently. I tolerated them because they could follow orders, but running this academy with those fools has drained me completely.”
His attitude remained consistent.
“If you want to blame me for this incident, go ahead. Believe what you want. But I will not admit that my methods were wrong. I was right. You just lack the intellect to understand it.”
I did nothing wrong.
You’re simply too ignorant to appreciate my brilliance.
