Chapter 111:  The Diver. (1)

That night, on the coast of Daphne.

“Bleeegh! Blegh!”

“Heeegh, heeegh, heeegh...”

Drenched and looking like seaweed, the knights of Daphne vomited seawater onto the sand.

Hardin, who was squatting nearby, shook his head.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing coming out in less than two minutes?”

Then Mikkelsen, who had been dry-heaving, spoke with a voice full of frustration.

“The current is too strong! Damn it...!”

“I already taught you the technique. I told you to use it.”

“We’re doing this because it doesn’t work! How are we supposed to master it in just three days? Am I wrong?”

When Mikkelsen turned his head and shouted, the other knights nodded.

“Y-Yeah, that’s right.”

“There’s just not enough time.”

Each of them spoke up with distressed faces, and Hardin frowned, scratching his head.

He looked strangely irritated.

‘Is he going to hit us again?’

Mikkelsen stepped back cautiously.

Then, Hardin let out a deep sigh and said,

“If you really can’t do it, then just quit.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said quit. What’s the point of clinging to something that’s not working? Am I wrong?”

What’s with him all of a sudden...?

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Then... what happens to the port?”

“What do you mean what happens. We’ll have to shut it down. What can we even do in front of the almighty Count of Tread?”

Hardin spoke in an oddly exaggerated tone.

At those words, Mikkelsen’s face suddenly stiffened.

“That’s... unacceptable.”

“Why not? We can just build another port, right? A few years go by... eventually we’ll restore it.”

Hardin spoke in a strangely grumbling tone.

“Why? Why do you think! Don’t you feel even a little bitter, Young Master? That port was built through blood, sweat, and tears! Isn’t that right, everyone?”

Mikkelsen shouted, his anger erupting.

“Y-Yeah. Still, shutting down the port is a bit...”

“That just can’t happen. And besides, didn’t Her Highness the Princess invest money into this port?”

The others nodded and voiced their agreement.

Some even...

“I mean, isn’t the Count of Tread being way too much? After all the effort we poured into this place, he wants to shut it down overnight?”

“...Damn, just thinking about it pisses me off.”

Some clenched their fists in anger and even spat out curses.

‘Good.’

At that moment, Hardin shrugged his shoulders and spoke again.

“But what can we do? You guys said you don’t think you can master it. Then there’s no other way, right?”

“...”

For a moment, everyone fell silent.

Then...

Crack.

Mikkelsen clenched his fist tightly, ground his teeth, and replied.

“Can this really work?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m asking if we really can protect the port just by mastering this. Give us a straight answer.”

Then, Hardin answered without the slightest hesitation.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

A definitive answer, completely devoid of emotion.

Hearing that, Malion raised his head and let out a long sigh.

“Haahhh. I’m going to lose my mind.”

Then he looked at Hardin again and said,

“Alright. I’ll do it. I’ll make it happen somehow... so please keep your word, Young Master.”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

...Damn it.

Mikkelsen shut his eyes tight and took another deep breath.

“Ughhh!”

His body convulsed uncontrollably, his skin turned red.

His veins bulged as if they were about to burst, and sweat dripped down.

He looked like he was about to die—literally.

How much time had passed?

Wooooong!

A net of light spread from Mikkelsen’s neck and across the backs of his arms.

It wasn’t perfect, but it had definitely improved compared to before.

‘Well, he might just make it in time.’

Hardin gave a barely noticeable smile.

Just then, as Mikkelsen was desperately focusing—

Smack!

“Argh! What was that for?! I was concentrating!”

As Hardin struck him on the crown of his head with the side of his hand, Mikkelsen protested with a face full of injustice.

“Your mana’s spreading too slowly. When you push mana out from your lungs, increase the speed. And disperse it faster from the point where it starts to clump.”

“C’mon... Couldn’t you have told me that earlier? Why’d you hit my head...?”

Just as Mikkelsen was complaining with a miserable expression—

“Hm?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

Hardin suddenly looked in another direction, and Mikkelsen was about to press him further when—

“Move.”

“Wha—!”

Screeech!

Hardin shoved Mikkelsen to the side and quickly flung his wooden sword forward.

“Ahhhh!”

A scream echoed from the distance at the same time.

“What the hell?”

“A scream?”

The knights all widened their eyes and turned in that direction.

‘Who’s that...?’

They saw a man in a black robe collapsed face-up on the sand.

Everyone’s gaze fixed on him, and tension appeared on their faces.

“Who is this, Young Master?”

A spy? Could he be from the Count of Tread?

Everyone surrounded the man in the black robe with wary expressions.

“Well, we’ll know once we check.”

Hardin approached, squatted beside the man, and pulled back his robe.

At that moment—

“Hm?”

“Ughhh...!”

They saw a man with a swollen face streaming tears.

But... his face looked oddly familiar?

Hardin rubbed his chin, then snapped his fingers as if he had remembered.

“Gadol...ph?”

...It was you?

A faint look of awkwardness crossed Hardin’s face when—

Thud!

“Wh-Wh-What the hell?!”

Gadolph, with his face swollen, suddenly sat up and grabbed Hardin by the collar, breathing fire from his mouth.

“Why the hell would you throw something so dangerous at someone’s head without warning?!”

“Tch, I thought maybe a spy from Tread had shown up. Who told you to dress like that?”

“You told me to go discreetly, didn’t you, Young Master! That’s why I wore the stealth outfit!”

Gadolph passionately defended himself, looking thoroughly wronged.

“Ah... did I? Sorry.”

Hardin averted his gaze and awkwardly scratched his head, then continued speaking.

“Ahem! So, did you bring everything I asked for?”

“...That’s all the apology I get? My head nearly got cracked open!”

“I’m sorry, really. I’ll make sure you get a bonus for the trouble. Alright?”

“Treatment fee, you mean.”

“Anyway.”

Forget it. What was I even expecting...

Gadolph let out a long sigh and answered.

“...Haahhh, I’ve got everything ready, so follow me quickly.”

“Hahaha, alright, alright. Good work, you really did well.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Hardin followed behind Gadolph, casually massaging his shoulder for no reason.

“Hey, I’ll be back in a bit, so you guys keep training on your own.”

“Ah... Yes, sir.”

As the two disappeared into the distance, the knights who had been staring at them exchanged glances and murmured among themselves.

“What the hell’s going on?”

“Beats me...”

Showing up dressed like that in the middle of the night?

Something about this smelled suspicious...

Puzzlement filled the expressions of the knights.

---

A little later, inside a small, secluded warehouse in Mudside.

The place was filled with stacked wooden crates. Gadolph, Hardin, and about half a dozen sturdy men lit up the interior with torches.

The defined muscles on their shoulders and arms made it clear these men were carpenters from the Daphne main estate.

“Let’s see here...”

Creeeak!

When Hardin opened one of the crates stacked near the top, he found it filled with black powder.

He dipped his finger in the powder and lightly licked it with his tongue...

“Ptuh-ptuh! Ugh, that’s bitter as hell.”

He immediately made a face and spat it out.

“Why the hell would you taste gunpowder? It’s not some kind of medicine.”

“Hey, this is how you check the purity. Haven’t you read any chivalry novels?”

Gadolph sighed deeply in disbelief and continued.

“So? What’s the purity like?”

“Well... looks usable enough. What about the rest?”

“Over there.”

When Gadolph pointed, Hardin moved to the side and opened another crate.

Creeeak!

Inside were long lances.

“Hmm, these aren’t bad either.”

Not the heavy steel lances used on the battlefield, but wooden ones.

The kind commonly seen in knightly jousting tournaments were neatly packed in the crate.

Hardin picked up one of the lances and ran his palm along the surface as he asked,

“This is made from teak wood, right?”

“Yes, I’m sure. After buying all this, I’ve basically become a wood expert now.”

When he pulled his fingers away from the lance’s surface, the tips glistened with oil.

‘Well, this should be more than enough.’

Hardin grinned, then stretched out his hand.

“Tools.”

“Ah, yes!”

One of the carpenters who had been standing by quickly handed over a carving knife and hammer from his bag.

“Watch closely. I’m only going to show this once.”

“Understood.”

As the carpenters nodded, Hardin rolled his wrist a few times...

Tack tack tack! Tack tack tack!

He brought the carving knife to the shaft of the lance and tapped the back of it with the hammer.

He pushed it in deeply, as if carving a long vertical chamber inside the lance.

Crack!

Wood fragments fell cleanly out.

Then Hardin held out his hand again.

“Small shovel.”

“Yes.”

Receiving the small shovel handed to him promptly, Hardin stuck it into the box filled with gunpowder.

Swoosh!

He scooped up a handful and carefully filled the hollowed part of the lance.

As the inside of the lance turned pitch black, he then took the piece of wood he had carved out earlier and placed it back over the opening...

“Wax.”

“Yes.”

This time, another man behind him handed over a lit candle.

Drip! Drip! Drip!

Hardin let the wax drip onto the carved section, letting it seep into the gaps and seal the opening firmly.

Once all the work was complete, Hardin examined the lance and smiled with satisfaction.

‘Perfect.’

A secret weapon to send those Tread bastards straight to hell... This was it.

Just as a wicked shadow crossed Hardin’s face—

“Um... Young Master?”

“Ah.”

Hardin snapped out of it at Gadolph’s voice.

With an embarrassed look, he cleared his throat and said,

“Ahem. You saw everything, right? Make all of these the same way by tomorrow. And be careful not to ignite the gunpowder.”

“...Yes.”

“Understood.”

The carpenters quickly nodded their heads.

“Then I’m off.”

“Take care, sir.”

Hardin slung the lance he made over his shoulder and walked out of the warehouse.

Then...

“...”

The carpenters exchanged glances nervously and looked toward Gadolph.

“Um, Sir Gadolph.”

“What is it?”

“This might be a bit rude to ask, but... what exactly are we making these things for?”

“What they’re for?”

“Yes, it’s the first time I’ve seen anything like this... I just can’t figure out the purpose.”

A troubled look appeared on Gadolph’s face.

 We’re going to have a fireworks show. A grand one...

 Excuse me? Are you seriously saying that in your right mind?

As Hardin’s words came to mind, a chill ran down Gadolph’s spine.

“Don’t worry about it. He just said he had a use for them somewhere.”

“And that ‘use’ is...?”

“Ahem! Let’s just focus on finishing these as quickly as possible. And you all know—keep your mouths shut about everything that happened here, got it?”

When Malion brought a finger to his lips, the carpenters nodded reluctantly.

“Ugh... Understood.”

What on earth are we making this for...?

Still full of questions, the carpenters began their work.

---

A short while later.

A quiet beach far from Mudside.

KWAANG!

Suddenly, a huge column of water shot violently upward from the sea.

Like an underwater volcano had exploded, the force was ferocious.

Fish and all sorts of sea creatures were flung into the air and came crashing back down onto the water’s surface—a truly spectacular sight.

And after about ten more seconds...

“Puwaaaaah!”

A man burst through the surface of the sea.

A blond-haired young man—Hardin Daphne.

“It works like a charm.”

Hardin turned his head toward the other side of the sea and smirked.

It was the direction where the Count of Tread’s warships were docked.

“You’re all... dead now.”

You goddamn bastards.

A wicked grin spread across Hardin’s face.

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