Chapter 125:  The Reaper Approaches

Step, step.

Viscount Cobalt walked through the garden of the Calpion estate.

“Huuuu…”

Just as he let out a sigh, his face worn with fatigue, a voice called out from the side.

“Young Master.”

“Ah, Mulgybson. So you were in Calpion?”

“Yes, I came to recruit conscripts… and heard you were here.”

Former Commander Mulgybson bowed his head.

“Anyway, did everything go well?”

Glancing at the mansion, he asked cautiously. Viscount Cobalt let out a deep sigh and replied with a face full of discomfort.

“Yes, well… I managed somehow. Though it feels strange, like I did something that doesn't suit me.”

Mulgybson let out a faint chuckle and responded.

“You did it for the House. There’s no need to dwell on it.”

“For the House… Yes, you’re right. And what about you?”

“I conscripted about thirty more from Calpion today. They’ll begin training this afternoon.”

“Is the training progressing well?”

“Yes. They’re all showing a fair amount of enthusiasm. We should have enough troops to fully occupy the Mudside fortifications within the timeframe.”

“Good. That’s a relief.”

Mulgybson nodded in response.

“Then let’s head out together.”

“Yes.”

The two walked forward in silence.

Then, Cobalt asked in a low voice,

“Mulgybson, what do you think will come of this war?”

“Why do you ask all of a sudden?”

“We’re up against the Count of Tread. The strongest in Luden Shire.”

When Mulgybson glanced at him, he saw a trace of unease on Viscount Cobalt’s face.

Though he tried hard to mask it with a forced expressionless face, his skin trembled subtly.

Staring at him for a moment, Mulgybson closed his eyes tightly, then opened them as he answered.

“We will win.”

“…Will we?”

“Yes. Princess Medeia has promised to support us… and the entire House is united in this effort. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, you're right. It has to be that way.”

“Are you worried?”

“…”

Cobalt couldn’t answer easily. Seeing this, Mulgybson offered a soft smile.

“I believe in the Young Master.”

“You mean Hardin?”

“Yes. He’s the one who overcame the war with Calpion, and countless situations that were thought to be impossible. And now that very Young Master is leading this fight as the commander of the knights… I don’t believe we’ll lose. Don’t you agree?”

Step.

Suddenly, Cobalt came to a halt and exhaled as he gazed into the air.

‘Believe in Hardin…’

Then, with a strangely relieved expression, he spoke.

“I was saying something unnecessary.”

“…”

“Let’s go. We’ve got much to do, and little time.”

“Yes!”

When Mulgybson nodded, his face full of energy, the two men left the garden with noticeably lighter steps.

---

Inside the Count of Tread’s estate, far larger and wider than that of Daphne, shaped like a massive anvil.

Above the forge known as the ‘Salamander’s Tongue’, the barracks of the ‘Anvil Knight Order’ were spread out.

East, West, South, North.

Each of the 1st to 4th Units had their own barracks.

At the center of the four large barracks was an enormous training ground spacious enough for hundreds to use at once.

By the time the sun stood high in the sky, at the training ground of the Anvil Knight Order—

“Aaaaagh!”

“Guhh!”

Paaak!

Chillas, the Captain of the 2nd Unit of the Anvil Knight Order, thrust his wooden sword forward.

“Bleergh! Uueegh!”

A knight struck by it tumbled backwards, dry heaving on the ground.

Behind him—

“Ughhhhh…”

“M-my back…”

Around a dozen knights lay curled up like shrimp, writhing on the ground.

 Squad One, come at me all at once!

 Huh? But…

 Now!

When they charged at Chillas upon his command for a sparring drill, they were mercilessly trampled down.

Everyone’s faces were twisted with pain.

Chillas shouted with a furious expression, as if he couldn’t care less.

“You worthless trash! What the hell was that?! You didn’t even last ten minutes!”

“S-sorry, sir!”

Ptuh.

Chillas spat to the side.

Useless fools… If it weren’t for them…

“Next! Squad Two, step forward!”

At that, the waiting knights, their faces pale, flinched.

‘Damn it, now it’s our turn to get beaten?’

‘Forget this kind of training, I’d rather just…’

As the knights hesitated and stalled, unable to step forward—

Voices murmured from the side.

“What’s he doing?”

“No clue. Probably blowing off steam.”

“Heh, he made such a fuss, now look at him.”

The blatant gazes from the knights of the 3rd and 4th Units could be felt.

Their voices full of sneers and mocking smiles.

Among them were Gilton, Captain of the 3rd Unit, and Bohim, Captain of the 4th Unit—both rivals of Chillas.

They were clearly reveling in Chillas’ failure.

‘Those bastards…’

Grit.

Chillas’ teeth ground together, and a vein popped on his forehead.

“What are you waiting for! I said step forward!”

“…Yes, sir!”

Only then did the 2nd Unit members, hesitant and nervous, slowly step forward under Chillas’ prodding.

Then—

Vwooooom!

“Uwaaagh!”

Chillas immediately charged forward, his wooden sword glowing with blue light.

‘What the hell is that?’

‘H-he’s so fast!’

Chillas’ face transformed into something monstrous.

The unit members, all 2-star Knights, could tell with just a glance—just from his presence.

If they took that attack head-on, they’d shatter like glass.

“Hiiieek!”

“Damn iiiiit!”

As panic set in, the knights began to retreat, stumbling backward.

“Fight back, damn it! You worthless fools!”

Bwoooooong!

Chillas’s sword shot forward like a lightning strike.

In that instant—

Taaack!

“Huh?!”

The wooden sword in his hand spun into the air, and Chillas’s eyes widened in shock.

Immediately afterward, the figure of a man appeared before him.

His entire body drenched in blood, with long white hair flowing behind him… and a magnificent mustache, the old knight stared at Chillas with a cold expression.

“Pathetic.”

Baaam!

“Guhhheuk!”

He kicked Chillas square in the stomach.

Chillas rolled backward several times before managing to get back on his feet.

“Cough! Guh, cough!”

He spat out several mouthfuls of blood, quickly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and straightened his stance.

“Y-you’ve returned, Sir Pattinson.”

Pattinson, Captain of the Knight Order.

Commander of the 1st Unit—the elite of the House—and hailed as the strongest knight, now stood blocking the way.

“How disappointing. The operation ended in complete failure… and here you are, taking your frustration out on your men. Because of you, I’ve been dragged into another nuisance.”

“N-no, Sir Pattinson, there’s a reason for all this…”

“Silence.”

With a sweeping motion of the hand holding something—

Thud!

A severed head rolled to a stop before Chillas.

“This is…”

“Captain Lowe’s head.”

The nearby knights’ eyes widened in shock.

‘Captain Lowe?’

‘He already took him down?’

Captain Lowe.

A notorious pirate who’d plundered dozens of merchant ships in the area, laying waste to any mercenary or knight order that attempted to subdue him—he had become the embodiment of terror around these waters.

Rumor had it not only was he an exceptional navigator, but both he and his crew were formidable mana users.

And yet Pattinson had taken his head within less than two weeks.

Pattinson let out a long sigh.

“I’ll be resting for a while. You’ll report to the Lord, Chillas.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

When Chillas nodded—

Step, step… tap!

Pattinson brushed past him, pushing his shoulder aside.

“Damn it, wasting time again on small fry like Daphne… What a bother.”

He muttered under his breath with a face full of annoyance.

And behind him—

Clink, clink!

The 1st Unit knights, clad in black plate armor still stained with blood, followed behind their captain with heads held high.

Perhaps it was the aura they carried—but their procession looked like the very embodiment of the Grim Reaper.

As they advanced—

“M-make way!”

“Y-yes, sir!”

The knights standing in their path stepped aside, clearing a way on the training grounds.

“Damn it…”

Staring at their retreating backs, Chillas’s face twisted in a mix of rage and resentment.

---

A few more weeks had passed.

“Alright, just one more ship to go!”

“Here comes the iron plating!”

On the beach of Mudside—

The carpenters were already completing their fourth ironclad vessel.

“We finish this by the end of the week! Everyone, pick up the pace!”

“Yes, sir!”

Under Malion’s direct command, the port fortification construction was nearing its final stage.

Meanwhile, at the training grounds of Daphne’s main stronghold—

“Haaah! Haaah!”

“Harder!”

“Yes, sir!”

Around a hundred conscripts moved in perfect unison like wind-up dolls, swinging their spears with precision.

“Fire!”

Thwack-thwack-thwack!

A volley of longbows fired from one side, with most arrows landing right on target.

“What do you think, Lord?”

“Hmmm… excellent.”

Former Commander Mulgybson and Viscount Cobalt, who had been observing nearby, nodded with serious expressions.

And at that same time, over at Rocky Isle and its surroundings—

On the western side of the island, a massive stone tower, as large as a giant, had been erected.

Screeeech…

Next to it, a Cockatrice was sound asleep, off in dreamland.

And on the eastern side of the island—

“Uuugh…”

Splash, splash…

Daphne’s knights carefully stepped across the surface of the sea, one foot at a time.

Their bodies were emaciated, covered in salt residue dried white over their skin—it was hard to tell if they were people or walking dried fish fillets.

Yet, oddly enough, their eyes remained sharp and alive.

‘Equalize the pushing force and pulling force…’

‘With each step, match the ratio of residual mana and exhaled mana…’

Repeating the scoldings they’d heard until their ears bled, they focused desperately on the flow of mana.

Humans are creatures of adaptation, they say.

The hunger that felt like their stomachs were tearing, the burning sun that once scorched their flesh—none of it registered anymore.

Everyone’s faces were covered in sweat, their eyes bloodshot, their bodies trembling as they focused.

Step by step.

Their movements resembled walking on thin ice.

At the very front of the formation stood Beryl and Manton.

Just one step.

Just one more step onto the rocky reef would mark their success.

“…”

Tremble…

The two slowly stepped onto the rocky surface almost at the same time.

Tap!

“We—we did it!”

“Ahahahaha! We made it!”

At that moment, bright smiles spread across both of their faces.

Even—

“Outta the way! Move!”

Even Mikkelsen, who had been right behind them, managed to step onto Rocky Isle as well.

“Ooooooh! Mikkelsen, not bad at all!”

“That’s nothing. Hahaha!”

As Beryl patted him on the back, Mikkelsen rubbed his nose and smiled proudly.

Of course…

“Uwaaaa!”

Splash!

Most of the knights following behind were still falling into the water.

At that moment, Hardin, watching from the shore, nodded slowly.

‘Well, even so… at this pace, we’ll be done soon enough.’

Honestly, even this much had exceeded his expectations.

Among all the guys strutting around calling themselves 2-star or 3-star knights…

There weren’t many who could manage mana control at the level these knights were currently demonstrating.

‘They’re almost there. Just need a little push now.’

With a slight smile, Hardin stretched out his arm and pointed at Beryl, Manton, and Mikkelsen.

“Hey, you three. Come over here.”

“Yes, sir!”

The three quickly approached Hardin.

“Let’s see… Hold on a sec.”

Hardin glanced around, searching for something.

‘What’s he up to?’

‘Why’s he acting like this all of a sudden?’

‘Ugh, why does he always do this? Making people nervous…’

Their faces were a mix of anxiety and anticipation.

Then, Hardin picked up a few sticks lying on the ground and held them out to the three.

“…?”

“Well? Take one each.”

“Ah, yes.”

Why sticks, all of a sudden?

All of them tilted their heads in confusion—then Hardin suddenly gave a strange command.

“Mikkelsen. You. Try using Weapon Enchant.”

“Wait, what?”

“I said use Weapon Enchant. Don’t know how?”

“N-no, I know how, but…”

You want me to use that now?

Weapon Enchant.

A technique that binds internal mana to a weapon, drastically increasing its power.

Unlike body hardening, where one simply disperses mana around their body, this required sending mana to a specific and distant point—so the size of one’s mana circuits, control ability, and more were all critical.

Even Beryl-hyung had just barely managed to pull it off recently—and now he wanted me to do it?

“Come on, how am I supposed to do that? That’s insane.”

Tap.

Hardin adjusted Mikkelsen’s posture and said,

“Do it. Maintain the mana’s shape and send it into the blade. You’ve been practicing here all this time—shouldn’t be impossible now.”

“Are… are you serious?”

“Or what, was all that training for nothing?”

Gulp.

Mikkelsen swallowed hard.

Suddenly aware of his surroundings, he noticed all the knights—soaked to the bone—were staring straight at him.

“…I-I’ll try.”

Hardin nodded in reply.

‘Damn it. This is ridiculous. Just because I trained a little, you think I suddenly broke through to the next level?’

Grit.

Mikkelsen bit his lip and tightened his core.

‘Push and pull forces… keep them balanced.’

The technique was the same as what he had been practicing all this time.

Just like maintaining a steady flow of mana to the soles of his feet—

He now bound the mana that scattered at the end of his circuit and slowly guided it toward the hand holding the stick.

Tremble…

His body shook from the concentration, and veins bulged on his forehead.

And then—just as he was shifting the mana to his hand, to the branch—

Vwooooom!

“Huh?”

Everyone’s eyes went wide.

Because a distinct blue glow had formed on the branch in Mikkelsen’s hand.

Which meant…

“Whaaaaat? I—did Weapon Enchant?”

“That guy… does that mean he’s a 2-star Knight?”

“That actually worked? You mean the training really… has results?”

The knights, one after another, blinked blankly in disbelief, wearing stunned expressions.

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