《In A Fantasy World I Can Absorbs Abilities》


 Chapter 1 The Beginning

    A hooded old man stood silently, gazing at the altar before him. The flickering candlelight illuminated the stone surface.Disheveled black hair swayed in his vision as he moved closer. Beside him, a white-bearded elderly man, his only friend and collaborator in this grim endeavor, exhaled anxiously.


    "This ritual offers no guarantees," the white-bearded man said, his voice trembling. "The child''s soul may not return whole. An external force might seize him instead."


    The man in the black hood gave no reply. He continued to approach the altar, determination etched into his every step. The ritual commenced with deliberate precision. He drew the required sigils and chanted the prescribed incantations, his voice imbued with desperate hope.


    His dark eyes mirrored the flickering candlelight, full of yearning. The sigils etched upon the altar began to radiate, their intricate patterns spreading outward. Shadows seemed to deepen, and darkness coiled ominously around the markings.


    Beneath the altar, the air stirred as waves of energy pulsed outward, their intensity growing until the vibrations echoed through the void. The atmosphere grew dense with foreboding, and the white-bearded man''s unease became palpable.


    It was too late to turn back.


    Raising both hands high, the man in the black hood shouted with fervor, "Awaken!"


    Now


    The young man stood before a mirror, scrutinizing his reflection. His jet-black hair and red eyes framed a youthful face that appeared to belong to someone in their late teens. It bore similarities to his former self, yet it was undeniably different. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He knew he had to adapt, but each glance in the mirror left him uneasy. Determined to focus, he slapped his cheeks with both hands, the sound echoing in the room. He needed clarity.


    The world he found himself in was anything but ordinary. Magic, knights, divine powers, dragons, and monstrous creatures abounded¡ªphenomena he had only encountered in fantasy novels. While life superficially resembled the Middle Ages, its essence was entirely alien.


    The civilized society where he, as an orphan, had once lived relatively peacefully, was no more. His priority now was survival. The very thought of being discovered made him shudder.


    This world, steeped in religious fervor and belief in demons, allowed no room for deviation. A single misstep could cost him his life. If anyone uncovered the truth¡ªthat he was not of this world¡ªthere would be but one outcome.


    Execution by fire.


    To avoid such a fate, he resolved to mimic the habits of his current identity while holding tightly to the memories of who he truly was. He steeled himself once more, determined to leave the past buried and focus on the present.


    His mind drifted back to the moment he first awakened in this unfamiliar body. Days ago, he had opened his eyes to find his head bloodied, his limbs contorted unnaturally.


    The excruciating pain had jolted a memory to the surface¡ªhis aircraft had crashed. He had been performing aerial maneuvers during an airshow when a mechanical failure caused the engine to fail.


    As the plane plummeted, he instinctively reached for the ejection button but hesitated, picturing the packed spectator stands. The hesitation was brief. He had no family to mourn him; as an orphan, there was no one to grieve his loss. Accepting his fate, he gripped the controls and aimed for an unpopulated area, ensuring the safety of others.


    He remembered the final moments vividly: the gray runway growing larger in his tear-filled eyes, the cacophony of alarms, and the undeniable knowledge that he wouldn''t survive.


    Yet here he was. Alive. Somehow.


    His crash had been catastrophic¡ªsurvival should have been impossible. But instead of dying, he had awakened in this body, with a world of questions and no answers.


    The people who had rushed to him upon his awakening wore strange clothing and had hair and eyes in colors that defied natural explanation. The ceiling above him was adorned with a lavish tapestry. He wasn''t in a hospital.


    The conclusion was undeniable.


    He, a 34-year-old Air Force pilot from The U.S, had somehow been transported to another world and reborn in another body.


    The enormity of it all had overwhelmed him. He had fainted, consciousness fading as unfamiliar memories began to seep into his mind.


    Were they the memories of this body''s former owner? That seemed to be the case. At the very least, it offered some solace.

 Chapter 2 The Child is Not a Bastard

    Michael, now lying still in his bed, continued to feign unconsciousness to avoid the prying eyes of those around him. He needed time. Sorting through the merging memories of his current self and the original owner of his body, he slowly came to terms with his new identity as Michael, a boy living in this unfamiliar world.It was no dream. It couldn''t be. Michael¡ªformerly a man named Jon in another life¡ªquickly pulled himself together. In his previous life, he had been an orphan, with no family or close relatives except the orphanage director who had given him the surname Hardy and the name Jon.


    By now, the insurance payout from his supposed death must have reached the director. Jon hoped it would be used to improve the orphanage facilities.


    Perhaps it was his name¡ª"Jon," meaning "the present"¡ªor perhaps it was his lack of lingering attachments to his former life that made it relatively easy to accept his new existence. The memories of the body''s previous owner began to surface, feeling as though they were his own. Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It was a strange experience¡ªgaining memories, habits, and even behaviors that weren''t truly his. Michael''s original owner had been a timid and calculating individual, quite the opposite of Jon, who was known for his upright, fair, and occasionally tactless personality. The combination of the two was creating a peculiar mix, though Michael himself was unaware of the changes taking shape within him.


    "By the name of light, med¨¦l?fer!"


    A warm glow touched Michael''s forehead, soothing his body and easing his discomfort.


    "How much longer will Michael remain asleep like this, Sir Hope?" a woman with her brown hair tied up asked anxiously. Her hands clutched her apron tightly, as though wringing out her worries.


    Hope, the healer, gave a slight shake of his head. "His body has already awakened its aura. He should regain full consciousness soon. Most of his injuries have healed, but he did hit his head when he fell from the wall¡­"


    "What does that mean?" the woman pressed, her voice tinged with desperation.


    "The mind is the domain of the gods," Hope explained with a weary sigh. "There''s no telling how the aftermath will manifest."


    Listening quietly with his eyes closed, Michael felt a sense of relief. If his behavior seemed unusual after he woke up, it might be excused as part of his condition.


    "Could he stay like this forever, never waking?" the woman asked fearfully.


    "That''s unlikely. However, he''ll need a stable environment for his recovery. He might have partial memory loss, but most of it should return over time," Hope reassured her.


    The woman glanced toward the imposing figure of a silent, broad-shouldered older man standing nearby. He remained grim, his expression unwavering. Turning back to Hope, she asked again, "So, we just wait and watch over him?"


    Hope nodded. "His vital signs are stable now. Don''t be overly anxious. When he wakes, start with porridge, then give him the most nutritious food he can handle."


    Hope stroked his beard thoughtfully and turned to the towering man. "Alfred, ease that frown of yours. Lincoln will face the consequences of his actions. The lord has already decided to send him on a beast subjugation mission. After some suffering, maybe that rotten mindset of his will improve."


    However, Alfred''s expression remained unchanged. Seeing no further response, Hope coughed awkwardly and began to leave. "Well then, Clara, I''ll take my leave."


    Clara, the woman, attempted to slip a pouch into Hope''s hand, but he firmly declined. Though healing magic was expensive, Hope had treated Michael for free for several days now, despite being the only healer in the barony.


    "Ha! If you''re that insistent, treat me to some of your stew later. Not now, though¡ªwait until Michael is fully recovered," Hope said with a chuckle as he left.


    Clara, still flustered, saw him off and returned to the room. She glanced at Alfred, whose massive fists were clenched tightly, as if barely containing his anger. She spoke cautiously.


    "Father, this is too cruel for Michael. The beasts in the neighboring territory are hardly a threat, and besides, that''s Lincoln''s maternal family''s land. After what Lincoln did to Michael, this punishment feels far too lenient. Shouldn''t we protest to the lord?"


    Outside the bedroom, Michael strained to listen to their conversation. Any information he could gather was valuable.


    "Leave it to me. Don''t concern yourself with this matter," Alfred replied in a deep, commanding voice.


    Michael remembered seeing Alfred when he first regained consciousness¡ªa giant of a man over two meters tall, clad in a black tunic. He looked like a bear, with a massive frame and muscular build that seemed capable of lifting a human head with one hand. His black eyes and hair were the only features that tied him to Michael, whose delicate face bore little resemblance to the imposing elder.


    "...I understand, Father," Clara finally said, her voice wavering with resignation.


    Michael, still under the effects of the healing magic, succumbed to the drowsiness creeping over him. He needed rest to recover, and soon, sleep claimed him.


    Meanwhile, in the barony of Gregory Crassus, within the castle walls, Baron Gregory Crassus sat in his study, fingers interlaced, deep in thought. How should he resolve this situation?


    He was concerned¡ªdeeply so. He knew well the strength and persistence of the individual he was dealing with. Resolving this matter quickly was imperative.


    The baron sighed heavily, his gaze falling on his eldest son, who stood before him. With his faded blond hair and blue eyes, the young man bore a resemblance to his mother. His thin lips were pressed into a firm line, exuding stubbornness and narrow-mindedness that only fueled the baron''s irritation.


    Patience. He needed to exercise patience. His eldest son was the child of his first wife and was connected to another baronial family through his maternal grandparents. That family provided consistent support, both financially and in concern for their grandson''s well-being.


    Despite his flaws, the eldest son was still the heir to the barony. Primogeniture was an unspoken law in the kingdom, and the baron had to uphold it.

 Chapter 3

    Resolving to act swiftly, the baron finally spoke. "I''ll provide you with twenty soldiers. Go to your maternal family''s lands and participate in the beast subjugation there."Lincoln, the baron''s eldest son, glared at his father.


    This was nothing new. As the firstborn and heir to the barony, Lincoln had always resented the attention his father gave to that boy¡ªMichael.


    "Why must I leave the barony?" Lincoln demanded. "If that fool fell because of his own clumsiness, is that my fault?"


    The baron''s anger flared, his jaw tightening. "Do you hear yourself? Do you think anyone in this castle would believe such nonsense? If you''re going to act, do it properly. Everyone saw what happened, and yet you claim he just lost his footing? Do you take the world for a gathering of fools like yourself?"


    Lincoln clenched his jaw, his eyes burning with hatred. He refused to back down.


    "You will leave for your maternal family''s lands at once," the baron ordered. "Once the beast subjugation is complete, you''ll proceed to the capital. Arrangements have been made for you to find a suitable match there. Your grandfather and I have already discussed it. Now, leave."


    But Lincoln remained rooted to the spot. "If I had any talent for swordsmanship, would you still favor him over me? If that cursed brat hadn''t awakened his aura¡ª"


    "Silence!" the baron roared, cutting Lincoln off. "How dare you say such a thing! Yes, Michael awakened his aura and became a knight. Even so, you are the heir to this barony and his elder brother. If you had shown a shred of generosity and accepted him, none of this would have happened. Do you even understand what it means to have another knight in the barony? He''s not just your brother¡ªhe''s one of only three knights in our entire domain. Do you realize what that represents?" S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "I do! And that''s exactly why I did it!" Lincoln snapped. "That brat never respected me as the heir. He always looked down on me. If he wanted to play executioner, he should have stayed in that role. Why did he have to claw his way back as a knight? If he''d chosen to become a wandering knight, I wouldn''t have cared. But why, of all things, did he return here? Do you have any idea how I felt when you welcomed him? That damned bastard child¡ª!"


    A loud crack interrupted Lincoln''s tirade as the baron''s hand struck his cheek, whipping his head to the side. Lincoln touched his bleeding lip and gave a bitter laugh.


    "Hah. It''s always like this. Is it wrong to call a bastard a bastard?"


    "...He is not a bastard," the baron said, his voice low and firm. "Margaret and I were wed under the light of the divine."


    "She was already carrying Michael when you married her!" Lincoln spat.


    The baron ran a hand over his face, weariness seeping into his features. His first marriage, an arrangement for political gain, had been a misery. His first wife had been stubborn, narrow-minded, and obsessed with vanity¡ªtraits she had passed on to their eldest son.


    After her death, the baron had been captivated by Margaret, an angelic woman of beauty and kindness. Their passionate night together had resulted in Michael''s conception, and under the sharp scrutiny of her father, Alfred, the baron had married her without hesitation. It was a responsibility he had been prepared to shoulder, and for a time, he was genuinely happy.


    But Margaret''s smile, her warmth, and the idyllic dream of their union faded with her death during childbirth. The baron could still recall holding Michael''s blood-soaked body in his trembling hands. The details of her funeral were a blur; he had blocked it all out.


    Perhaps that was why he had sent Michael to his maternal grandfather. Financial strains from recurring droughts had compelled him to marry a wealthy merchant''s daughter as his third wife, and sending Michael away had seemed practical¡ªa means of giving the boy a different future.


    At the time, the baron had not realized the depth of Lincoln''s hatred, nor could he have anticipated Michael''s remarkable talents. Sometimes, exceptional gifts could be as much a curse as a blessing.


    When Michael returned, having awakened his aura and become a knight, he spoke of his longing for the castle and his desire to claim what was rightfully his. He declared that he would not spend his life handling corpses as an executioner. His eyes had burned with ambition as he expressed his desire to protect the barony as one of its knights.


    The baron had welcomed him back with open arms, perhaps driven by a lingering sense of inferiority toward Alfred, Michael''s maternal grandfather¡ªa knight of towering stature and formidable skill. Welcoming Michael had been a decision rooted in admiration and guilt, but it had led to disastrous consequences.


    The baron sighed deeply, his voice heavy with fatigue. "Please, Lincoln. Do not make this more miserable than it already is. This is the best course of action for everyone. I promise you¡ªyour position will not be threatened. After the subjugation, go to the capital, marry, and return with a son."


    Lincoln hesitated. For the first time, his father''s once-imposing shoulders seemed small and frail. Though Lincoln''s anger toward Michael burned hot, a sliver of guilt for his actions tempered his resolve. At length, he relented.


    "Fine. I''ll go. But Michael must stay in that house. If he sets foot in this castle again, I''ll kill him."


    The baron gave a weary nod. He knew that even if Michael fully recovered, Alfred would never allow him to return to the castle. Moreover, Michael''s duties would keep him bound to the barony''s five territories, far from the capital where Lincoln would reside. Lincoln would be safe in the capital, free to find a wife and secure his position as heir.


    Whatever punishment Lincoln might face upon returning to the barony would come after his position as successor was firmly established. And by then, it would no longer matter.

 Chapter 4 Would You Revive Him?

    While Michael remained asleep, Alfred finished a hearty meal of white bread slathered with butter, savory smoked ham, and crisp onion pickles, all washed down with milk. Rising from his seat, he stretched and prepared to leave. The night had already settled in, but it was of no concern to him.Clara, still seated at the dining table, looked up curiously as she noticed Alfred reaching for his cloak. "Where are you going at this hour?"


    "Just out for a walk," Alfred replied curtly.


    Clara thought nothing of it. Her father-in-law was fond of evening strolls, and he was strong enough to take care of himself. Any lurking spirits or bandits in the night would have more reason to fear Alfred than the other way around.


    "Shall I prepare a lantern for you?" she offered.


    "No need."


    The door creaked shut behind him. Left alone in the faint glow of the dining room lamp, Clara sighed and resumed her sewing. With her husband away in the village investigating the culprit behind a recent incident, her tasks were limited to mending clothes and keeping the household in order.


    Alfred returned from his walk just as Clara was starting her third garment. Draped over his broad shoulders was a massive bear carcass. Apparently, an audacious bear had attacked him during his stroll. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Clara helped Alfred hang the beast in the barn, marveling at the pristine condition of the pelt. The old man''s skillful bare-handed kill had left the fur unblemished, a testament to his formidable strength.


    By the time Michael opened his eyes, he had fully regained the memories of his new self. Gentle sunlight filtered through the window, warming his brow. His body felt much improved; he knew it was time to start moving again. After days confined to bed, his muscles ached from disuse, and he was eager to regain his strength.


    With his memories now complete, Michael felt more assured. The fear of a grim, fiery end¡ªhis so-called "charcoal ending"¡ªno longer loomed over him.


    As Clara entered the room to change the bed linens, she brightened at the sight of him awake. Michael''s face, illuminated by the sunlight, seemed almost holy, his angelic smile reminiscent of his childhood days.


    "Michael, you''re awake! Are you feeling hungry?" she asked warmly.


    "I''m starving, Aunt," Michael replied with a sheepish grin.


    In a flurry, Clara prepared breakfast. She boiled porridge with generous amounts of milk and finely chopped bear meat. While she would have liked to serve freshly baked bread and eggs, she opted for a lighter meal, mindful of Michael''s recovery. Nonetheless, she seasoned the dish liberally, ensuring it was both nutritious and flavorful.


    Michael finished the porridge and a glass of milk with gusto. Though he had worried about the quality of food in a world resembling the Middle Ages, he was pleasantly surprised. The warmth and care that went into the meal made it all the more satisfying.


    Feeling revitalized, Michael slowly stood and left his room. In the hallway, he encountered his grandfather, Alfred, lighting a pipe. The older man''s towering, muscular frame still exuded an intimidating presence.


    "You''re up. How''s your body?" Alfred asked, his deep eyes revealing little emotion.


    "Thanks to your care, I''m fully recovered. Thank you," Michael replied brightly.


    Alfred puffed on his pipe as he regarded Michael. His black hair mirrored Alfred''s own, while his vivid red eyes were a reflection of his late mother''s. After a moment, Alfred nodded and settled back into his armchair.


    "I feel stiff after lying in bed for so long. I think I''ll take a walk," Michael said.


    Alfred nodded again without a word, though Michael couldn''t help but feel a shiver run down his spine. Did Alfred suspect anything? The thought of those massive fists¡ªcapable of crushing a human skull¡ªwas hard to ignore.


    Michael strolled through the nearby woods, letting the brisk northern winter wind slash at his cheeks like a blade. The cold, crisp air filled his lungs, invigorating him as he walked.


    With his thoughts now clearer, Michael decided to test something he had been putting off. After ensuring no one was around, he spoke aloud.


    "Status window."


    Nothing happened. As expected.


    Still, he wasn''t ready to give up. "Gacha. Dice roll. Lottery. Random box¡­"


    He ran out of ideas. The futile attempt left him feeling embarrassed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Shaking his head, Michael trudged back toward the house, his mind swirling with unease.


    When he reached the yard, he noticed a wagon parked out front. His uncle must have returned from the village. A glossy brown horse neighed in greeting as it spotted him. Drawing from his inherited memories, Michael unfastened the harness and led the horse to the stable, where he fed it some hay.


    The wagon bed was stained red, though whether it was blood or something else, Michael couldn''t be sure. He fetched water and a scrubbing brush to clean it, layering fresh straw once the task was complete.


    As he worked, faint screams reached his ears. "Aaaah! Hngh¡­ urgh¡­"


    Someone was being tortured nearby. Oddly, Michael found himself unperturbed. Was it his training as a fighter pilot? Or perhaps Michael''s memories were influencing him. At just seventeen years old, he was already accustomed to the sound of screams¡ªcries of confession, the crack of whips on flesh, and the struggles of condemned souls.


    After finishing with the wagon, Michael spotted Clara in the yard, carrying a basket of laundry. She smiled at him.


    "Oh, I was going to take care of that. Thank you, Michael."


    "It''s nothing, Aunt. Uncle has returned, hasn''t he? He seems to have gotten straight to work," Michael said, glancing toward a building set apart from the main house.


    The two-story annex, painted black and barred with iron windows, radiated an eerie atmosphere. Even in the height of summer, the place exuded a chilling aura. From inside, the tortured screams continued.


    "Yes, we caught the man at last," Clara''s husband said. "Father and I are taking care of him now."


    "Who is he?" Michael asked.


    "The man who assaulted and strangled little Jacques'' six-year-old daughter. He''s receiving the punishment he deserves."


    "And now¡­?" Michael asked, his gaze shifting toward the annex.


    Clara solemnly nodded and mimed a cutting motion. The gesture made Michael wince involuntarily.


    "A fitting punishment," Michael remarked. The man was a child predator and a murderer; nothing could be more appropriate.

 Chapter 5

    Smiling faintly, Michael began cleaning an iron hook hanging from the annex wall. Blood stained the metal, likely from where the criminal had been dragged by his collarbone. Muffled sobs and wails continued to seep from the building."They''ll need a branding iron, won''t they?" Michael asked.


    "I left one by the fireplace to heat up. I was going to bring it to them after hanging the laundry," Clara replied.


    "I''ll take it," Michael offered. "You can finish hanging the clothes."


    "Thank you. Be careful not to burn yourself."


    Michael entered the house and spotted the branding iron glowing red among the embers of the fireplace. It still needed a little more time to heat up fully. As he waited, his eyes wandered to a massive sword leaning against the wall¡ªa weapon that had always seemed terrifying in his inherited memories.


    He approached and grasped the hilt. The moment his fingers curled around it, a peculiar sensation coursed through him. A voice, dry and mechanical, echoed in his mind:


    [Activation conditions met. Absorbing mana. Mana absorption complete. Ability use conditions not satisfied. Function terminated.]


    Michael stood frozen for a moment before regaining his senses. What had just happened?


    As he released the sword, glittering fragments fell from its blade to the ground. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was the mana stone embedded in the hilt that had shattered. These stones kept the blade perpetually sharp without needing maintenance.


    Had he absorbed its mana by touching it? And what were these "ability use conditions" it mentioned? His heart pounded with curiosity, but he knew he shouldn''t rush. Discovering the answers would require time and experimentation.


    Calming himself, Michael picked up the branding iron and the sword before heading to the annex.


    Inside, the criminal lay bleeding and groaning in pain. Alfred took the branding iron, seared the man''s lower body, applied medicinal herbs, and wrapped him in tight bandages.


    The man would die eventually, but it wouldn''t be from blood loss before his execution by beheading. His screams of agony filled the room until he finally passed out. Alfred then hoisted the unconscious man onto his shoulder and stepped out of the annex.


    At a nearby water barrel, Alfred washed the blood from his hands. Henry, Michael''s uncle, who had been overseeing the scene, turned toward his nephew with a broad grin.


    "You''re finally up! How are you feeling?" Henry asked, his expression kind despite his rugged features.


    "I''m fine now," Michael replied with a small smile.


    "Good. Don''t go back to the castle. Stay here and live peacefully with us," Henry said, though his worried expression betrayed his cheerful tone.


    Michael chuckled softly. Seeing such a tender expression on Henry''s massive frame was almost endearing. "I''ve come to my senses. I''ll stay here."


    Henry''s smile widened. Alfred, observing the exchange, finally spoke. "If we''re done here, let''s head to the square." S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The final task remained¡ªto execute the criminal.


    The town square was packed by the time the sun had passed its zenith. It was a bright, sunny day¡ªperfect for carrying out an execution. Laughter and the cheerful chatter of vendors selling baked goods and preserved fruits filled the air.


    Dressed in their finest, townspeople had turned the execution into an outing. Michael and Henry loaded the prisoner into the wagon. The man, now half-mad, mumbled incoherently.


    "It wasn''t me¡­ It was the demon inside me¡­ Yes, he made me do it. He told me to strangle her soft neck, to defile her. I''m a good man, don''t you know? I was once the great archer, Yoan! Women used to throw themselves at me. I was a war hero! That girl¡ªshe tempted me! She must have been the devil''s child. This is all the demon''s doing. I''m innocent¡­"


    Michael ignored the delusional muttering. In cases where mitigating circumstances applied, criminals might be given a sedative before their execution to ease their passing. But Alan warranted no such mercy.


    Henry hitched the well-fed brown horse back to the wagon and pulled the reins. Michael climbed onto the wagon''s rear with Alfred, the rickety wheels creaking as they began their journey to the square.


    As the wagon rolled down the forest path, Michael''s thoughts returned to the dry, mechanical voice he had heard when the mana stone shattered. What did it mean? And what would come next?


    The wagon reached the square, where Jacques, the father of the murdered girl, pushed through the crowd with a pale face. Alfred intercepted him.


    "This man will pay the price, Jacques. He''ll die in the most excruciating way. I swear it," Alfred said solemnly.


    Jacques broke into sobs, clutching his daughter''s ribbon in his trembling hands. "Please, Executioner. My wife has cried herself into exhaustion. My little Marie¡­ she was so kind, so beautiful. You know that, don''t you? Such a small, innocent child¡­ Oh, God¡­"


    Alfred said nothing, his face hard as he hooked the criminal''s underarms and dragged him from the wagon. Yoan, drenched in blood, screamed in protest as Alfred hauled him onto the execution platform.


    The townspeople jeered, their anger mingled with grief for the murdered girl. No one prayed for Yoan''s soul.


    The execution platform loomed high above the square. At the toll of the bell signaling three o''clock, the crowd fell silent. Bound and trembling, Yoan''s wide eyes darted across the faces of the onlookers, terror etched into every feature.


    Alfred''s voice rang out, steady and firm. "If I do not stain my hands with blood, who will? Peace comes from vengeance, and death brings rest."


    The sword fell.


    First, Yoan''s ears were severed, then his shoulders slashed, and finally, his neck shattered. Alfred had kept his promise to Jacques. Alan died in agony and terror.


    The crowd began to disperse, their emotions a mix of relief and unease. Jacques stayed behind, cutting a lock of the criminal''s hair to show his wife, perhaps seeking closure for their shared grief.


    The village scribe approached Alfred, bowed respectfully, and left. Alfred lit his pipe, smoke curling around his weathered face as Henry and Michael collected Yoan''s remains.


    The day''s work was nearly done. The body would be buried in the graveyard for the unclaimed, a final duty to complete the grim affair.


    As Michael lifted Yoan''s severed head, a voice echoed in his mind once more:


    [The absorbed mana is sufficient. Ability use conditions satisfied. Would you like to revive him? Yes/No.]

 Chapter 6 Acquiring

    Revive him? This man? The idea was unthinkable. Michael shook his head instinctively. Once again, the dry, mechanical voice spoke in his mind:[Ten seconds have passed. The revival option has expired. Would you like to extract a random ability? Yes/No.]


    The words of the condemned man echoed in Michael''s mind¡ªthe self-proclaimed war hero and renowned archer. If there was any truth to his claims, perhaps... Michael gave a slight nod and answered internally.


    "Yes."


    In an instant, a vision overtook him. The scene was surreal¡ªa vast sky, shrouded in shadow, with faint stars barely flickering in the darkness. Among them, one star shone vividly, piercing through the gloom. Michael felt the star draw closer, its light sinking into his brow as he closed his eyes.


    [You have acquired "Archery Skills" from Alan Velzeff. Would you like to explore the origin of the ability? Yes/No.]


    Explore its origin? Yes.


    [Alan Velzeff was a naturally gifted archer who gained renown through participation in twelve territorial wars. However, after a series of poor decisions, he was punished by the amputation of both thumbs and forefingers. Reduced to a wandering vagrant, his unchecked lust drove him to prey on the weak. He assaulted four young girls and five elderly individuals, murdering three of them. His crimes caught up to him after his final murder, and he was executed by Alfred von Wittelbach in the barony of Gregory Crassus. Exhibit Alan''s legendary archery skills, renowned for their unerring precision.]


    Michael opened his eyes as the voice faded. His uncle, Henry, stood before him, looking concerned.


    "You alright? Maybe you overdid it, getting up so soon. Here, hand me that and rest in the back of the wagon," Henry said, gesturing toward the severed head Michael held.


    Michael waved his hand dismissively. "I''m fine. Just felt a little lightheaded for a moment."


    Their day''s work concluded with burying the condemned criminal in the unmarked gravesite for those without kin. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Henry grinned at Michael.


    "Alright, let''s head home. Your aunt''s probably got some bear stew simmering, just waiting for us."


    It was a feast. The bear stew was rich and savory, its juices soaking into the soft white bread they dipped into it. Clara worried aloud that the meal might be too heavy for someone who had only recently recovered, but Michael couldn''t resist. For dessert, they had rolls coated with honey and cinnamon, accompanied by freshly picked apricots from the garden. It felt like a taste of heaven.


    Afterwards, Michael settled into a chair by the fireplace, cradling his full stomach. Fighting off the pull of sleep, he organized his thoughts.


    Unfamiliar yet instinctive knowledge of archery flooded his mind. He longed to pick up a bow and try it. Techniques came to him effortlessly¡ªhow to adjust for wind direction, how to strike two targets with a single arrow, and how to rapidly fire consecutive shots. It was as if he had lived decades as an archer.


    "This must be from that ability extraction," Michael mused.


    The image of Alan''s severed hands came to mind¡ªthumbs and forefingers missing, a reflection of his tarnished legacy. Michael forced the thought aside, choosing instead to focus on the skills he had gained.


    The next morning, Michael rose early and asked his uncle to find him a bow. Henry rummaged through the shed behind the house and produced an old longbow. Though slightly worn, it became serviceable after some restringing and sanding of frayed edges.


    Michael''s newfound skills proved remarkable. With the strength of his current body combined with the precision of Alan''s expertise, his arrows consistently struck their targets. From 200 meters, he even managed to take down a rabbit with a single shot. Pumping his fist in triumph, Michael felt a surge of exhilaration.


    It felt like playing a shooting game with a cheat code at his disposal.


    However, his palms soon began to ache. Following the instincts embedded in his mind, he set about crafting a shooting glove from the bear hide Alfred had brought back. Despite never having made one before, he completed a functional glove that fit perfectly. When he tested the bow with the glove on, the improvement was immediately noticeable.


    With both archery and swordsmanship at his command, Michael felt a newfound confidence. He now had the means to fight at both long and close range. Though the future remained uncertain, he knew that survival demanded a diverse skill set. He was eager to acquire more abilities, particularly if they proved as useful as this one.


    But abilities required mana stones. Three stones were needed for his next extraction, and each cost a staggering 30 gold coins. At that price, his funds would quickly run dry.


    Looking at the scattered arrows from his practice, Michael realized he couldn''t afford to waste anything. Collecting and reusing the arrows was essential, especially since crafting new ones wasn''t cheap. He winced at the sight of blunted arrowheads, the result of his immense strength.


    The memory of Alfred silently replenishing the mana stone in his sword after an execution flashed through Michael''s mind. Could he absorb the mana from that stone as well?


    No. Repeating the act would surely draw suspicion. He needed money. A lot of it.


    Michael sighed and diligently gathered the arrows strewn across the field. Once done, he headed to his room and opened a chest to check his finances. Beneath ropes, hooks, chains, and torture tools, the glint of gold coins caught his eye¡ª27 in total. It was the allowance he had saved from annual visits to the castle.


    He pocketed the coins and turned to the cupboard, where various pouches of dried herbs lined the shelves. Selling them might fetch another two gold coins, at most. Hunting for pelts and meat would help as well, but even then, saving enough for three mana stones felt like an insurmountable task.


    Sighing again, Michael resolved to chip away at the goal bit by bit.


    Later that day, Michael ventured to the square. The cold air filled his lungs, sharper than usual under the overcast sky. Merchants shouted over each other, hawking their wares. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Pulling up his coat collar and tugging his hat low, Michael blended into the bustling crowd.

 Chapter 7

    The alleyway was littered with trash and filth, its stench permeating the air. Michael carefully picked his way through, avoiding the worst of it as he hurried along. Even the beggars tasked with collecting garbage avoided this area, leaving it in squalor.Those beggars, under orders from Michael''s grandfather Alfred, spent their days lounging in the shadows, gathering rumors, and their nights cleaning the town square and main streets. They knew everything¡ªwho beat their spouse or children, which shopkeepers rigged their scales to cheat customers. Nothing escaped their watchful eyes.


    Finally emerging from the mire, Michael arrived at his destination: the home of Hannah, the midwife.


    Hannah was one of the town''s skilled midwives, known not just for delivering babies but also for her expertise in brewing potions. She crafted remedies to prevent unwanted pregnancies, potions for terminating them, and even aphrodisiacs marketed as "love elixirs." Her proficiency in herbal mixtures and sharp business sense made her a prominent figure in the market.


    "Ah, young master! It''s been a while. How are you feeling? Come in, come in, and warm yourself by the fire. Goodness, you''ve lost so much weight!" Hannah exclaimed, her chestnut curls bouncing as she ushered him inside. She was a plump, motherly woman who radiated warmth.


    A former apprentice magician who had been dismissed for a lack of talent, Hannah had instead honed her skills in potion-making, carving out a comfortable niche for herself.


    "The herbs you brought last time were excellent," she said, examining the pouch Michael handed her. "I''ve been struggling to keep up with demand lately, so this is perfect timing. I''ll pay more if you keep supplying me. Dried or fresh¡ªeither is fine, as much as you can bring."


    "That''s good to hear. I''ll keep bringing more," Michael replied.


    Hannah meticulously inspected the neatly dried and sorted herbs, nodding approvingly. "Excellent quality as always. I''ll give you three gold coins for these. Keep up the good work, alright?"


    Three gold coins¡ªmore than Michael had expected. He silently congratulated himself for selling directly to Hannah instead of going through the general herbal merchants.


    By the time Michael returned home, it was late at night. He slipped through the door quietly and bolted it behind him, but as he headed toward his room, a deep voice stopped him in his tracks.


    "You''re just now getting back?"


    His heart sank. Alfred sat by the fireplace, his dark, penetrating eyes seeming to see straight through Michael''s soul.


    "Still awake, Grandfather?" Michael asked, trying to keep his voice even.


    Alfred tapped the ashes from his pipe into the fireplace. "Don''t stay out so late. The forest is dangerous."


    With that, Alfred gave a slight nod, dismissing him. The firelight cast shadows over the deep scar on his cheek, making him look like a predator lurking in the dark.


    Forcing a polite smile, Michael retreated to his room, closing the door behind him. Interacting with Alfred was still a daunting experience.


    Counting the coins in his possession, Michael now had 30 gold¡ªenough for one mana stone. Tomorrow, he decided, he would head into the forest to hunt.


    The forest was dense with history, its ruins telling tales of a bygone era. Michael stood before a moss-covered, crumbling tower, remnants of an ancient castle scattered around him. He climbed a collapsed stone staircase, its vines clinging to the broken walls.


    These ruins were once part of the domain of House Barclay, a family that ruled over five territories 300 years ago. As a descendant of the vassals who betrayed the Barclays, Michael couldn''t help but feel a chill run down his spine.


    From his vantage point atop the staircase, he spotted a stag grazing beneath the trees. It was the same elusive creature he''d been tracking for hours¡ªquick and vigilant, always staying just out of range. Its majestic antlers sprawled like the branches of an old tree. A fine trophy that would fetch a handsome price.


    Michael steadied his breath, raised his bow, and pulled the string taut. The arrow flew true, striking the stag''s neck. A triumphant smile spread across his face.


    As he hurried down the stairs to retrieve his prize, Michael froze. In the growing shadows of the ruins, a blackened hand reached out from the gloom.


    The oppressive malice in the air was unmistakable. A malevolent spirit.


    The skeletal knight stepped forward, its hollow eye sockets glowing with fiery light. Its gaze locked onto Michael, hatred emanating from its very core.


    "Damn traitor Gregory Crassus! Unforgivable!" the spirit bellowed.


    Michael cursed under his breath. Why had he chosen this place to hunt? His decision to seek higher ground had inadvertently lured him into danger.


    Desperately, Michael drew his sword, though he knew it would do little good. As a novice knight, his aura was still weak, and he lacked the precision to wield it effectively against such a foe.


    The skeletal knight lunged, its movements erratic yet relentless. Michael barely evaded its grasp, scrambling to put distance between himself and the spirit.


    Thankfully, the spirit appeared bound to the ruins, unable to leave its domain. If Michael could escape, he might survive.


    Despite its lack of intelligence, the knight''s fury was unrelenting. Michael''s attempts to strike back only chipped away at the creature''s bones, causing no significant damage. Exhaustion began to set in, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.


    Realizing he had no choice, Michael decided to use his aura. If he could land a single decisive blow, he might shatter the spirit''s core. But if he failed, he''d be defenseless, an easy target for the enraged specter.


    He needed a moment to focus. As he maneuvered to create an opening, Michael''s foot slipped on a vine, throwing him off balance. The knight''s bony hand reached for him, its skeletal fingers brushing his skin.


    Is this how I die? The thought raced through Michael''s mind as a flood of memories flashed before him.


    But then¡­ something unexpected happened.


    The moment the spirit''s hand touched Michael, it let out an ear-piercing scream.


    "Gyaaaaaaah!" S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael stared in shock as the knight recoiled, its fiery eyes dimming.


    [Activation conditions met. Absorbing mana.]


    A smirk spread across Michael''s face as realization dawned. The spirit was no longer an enemy¡ªit was a convenient source of mana.

 Chapter 8 My Brother is Dead

    [Insufficient mana absorbed. Required mana is now twice the previous amount. Please charge more mana. Function terminated.]The skeletal knight, its fiery eyes blazing with malice, crumbled into dust and vanished. Michael silently bid the spirit farewell, appreciating its "generosity."


    Based on his observations, a single malevolent spirit seemed to provide mana equivalent to three mana stones. But with the required mana now doubled, it would take six stones¡ªor two spirits¡ªfor his next ability. By that logic, the next tier would demand twelve stones or four spirits, an exponential increase.


    The cost was steep, rivaling the most exploitative moneylenders. Yet the rewards were undeniable. Transforming from a novice archer to a marksman of extraordinary precision was worth the effort.


    Even with an old longbow, Michael''s archery skills had become impeccable. He could only imagine what he might achieve with a high-quality, finely-tuned bow. Furthermore, his physical abilities had subtly improved¡ªhe felt faster, stronger, more resilient.


    But where could he find more spirits? They were far from common. As much as his new abilities expanded his possibilities, their conditions were daunting. And there was another issue. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    What if someone witnessed the mana absorption process? Whether it was mana stones dissolving or spirits being drained, the sight could only lead to trouble in a world quick to label anything unusual as the work of demons or evil gods. Michael couldn''t afford that kind of suspicion.


    Maybe gloves would prevent accidental absorption? Then again, wearing gloves at all times might seem unnatural.


    [Absorption settings can be adjusted.]


    A new message interrupted his thoughts. Was this an option all along?


    [Settings will be updated. During the 12-hour update process, mana absorption will be disabled. The update begins now.]


    The voice almost sounded cheerful, though Michael dismissed it as his imagination. Relieved, he turned toward home, his cart laden with the day''s haul of game.


    By the time Michael skinned and cleaned the animals, the evening was already upon him. Washing the blood from his hands, he stepped inside the house, where Clara approached him in a rush, her face grave.


    "Go to the annex. There''s been an accident¡ªfive people died during logging. Your uncle is bringing the bodies."


    Without hesitation, Michael made his way to the annex. In addition to the execution chamber, the annex housed a workspace for tasks like autopsies and post-accident examinations.


    When he arrived, Henry was already unloading the bodies, each shrouded in blood-stained white cloth. The accident must have been gruesome. Michael silently joined his uncle in transferring the bodies from the cart to the workbench.


    As they moved one of the bodies, an arm slipped out from beneath the shroud, dangling limply. No matter how many times he faced such scenes, he could never fully grow accustomed to them. The day''s tragedy would cast a shadow over many families in the barony.


    Before long, a group of men gathered outside the annex¡ªsurvivors of the accident, many of them limping or nursing bandaged wounds. A somber-looking middle-aged man stepped forward as their representative.


    "Please, take care of them¡­ We''ll cover the costs through the logging guild. Just make them presentable for their families. In this state, we can''t even leave the coffins open," he pleaded.


    Henry nodded solemnly. Preparing bodies was one of his specialties¡ªa skill Michael still had much to learn.


    "Inform the families. Tell them the bodies will be ready in two days. They can prepare the funerals," Henry said. "I''m more concerned about the surviving workers. Are they alright?"


    The man sighed heavily. "It''s hard to say. This could have happened to any of us. I can''t stop thinking about how to break the news to their families. Some of them are already struggling to get through the winter¡­"


    For these laborers, death wasn''t the end of tragedy¡ªit left those still living to carry the burden. The weight of it all was etched on the man''s face as he turned and left with the others.


    Inside the annex, Michael began arranging the bodies on the workbench. While Henry fetched supplies, Michael straightened twisted limbs, cleaned dried blood, and began basic preparations.


    Standing over the least damaged body, he gripped the shoulder with one hand and gently pulled the neck back into place. The unnatural angle slowly corrected itself. Moving on to the next body, he extended broken limbs and carefully wiped away the blood.


    The rest of the work required Henry''s expertise. The bodies would need to be embalmed, crushed areas filled with carved wood, torn skin stitched, and collapsed sections padded with cotton. Finally, Clara would take over, dressing and grooming the deceased for their final presentation.


    The process wasn''t just about honoring the dead¡ªit was for the living. Funerals helped families confront and accept death, remembering their loved ones as they were in life.


    Only executioners and their descendants were entrusted with such tasks. As agents of vengeance and peace, they carried the dual role of restoring dignity to the dead and helping the living face loss.


    Henry wouldn''t sleep tonight, working tirelessly to fulfill his promise to the families. Michael would stay and assist, continuing to learn the trade passed down through their family.


    By early morning, Clara appeared at the annex door, carrying a tray with steaming tea and snacks.


    "Take a break, both of you. Have something to eat¡ªyou didn''t even have dinner."


    Henry grinned in gratitude, removing his gloves and quickly downing the tea and snacks Clara had brought. Michael, seated nearby, took a careful sip of the hot tea. The warmth seemed to ease his exhaustion.


    Clara set the tray aside and brushed her hand gently through Michael''s blonde hair. Though he looked no older than his late teens, the weight of his duties mirrored that of an adult. For Clara, every young life lost was a reminder of her own sorrow. After three stillbirths, she was unable to bear children, and each tragedy brought her to the brink of tears.


    Outside, snow began to fall, blanketing the world in a silent, white stillness.


    Elsewhere, deep in the forest, Alfred stood unmoving, the snow gathering on his shoulders. The woods were deathly quiet, as though all living creatures had stopped to hold their breath.


    With his eyes closed, Alfred stretched out a hand. Shadows spilled across the snow, spreading like creeping vines. As he grasped at the shadows, they twisted and coiled, forming into two distinct masses.


    "Find those who killed you," Alfred commanded.

 Chapter 9

    The shadowy vines converged on a spot, where the frozen ground began to shift. Two corpses emerged from the snow, their lifeless forms animated by an unseen force.Michael felt like he was dreaming. He remembered sitting with Henry, sipping the tea Clara had brought, but now he was somewhere unfamiliar.


    The air around him was a swirling red mist. Dizzy and disoriented, he stumbled, eventually losing his footing and falling. In the haze before him, a massive face emerged.


    The face tilted curiously, its features eerily beautiful yet disturbingly grotesque. The corners of its lips curled into a sly smile as soft, mocking laughter filled the air.


    Then the mouth began to open¡ªwider and wider until it encompassed the entire face. Sharp, jagged teeth glinted ominously in the crimson light, and a snake-like tongue darted out, slick with decay.


    The laughter grew louder, almost taunting, as the tongue flicked pieces of rotting flesh onto the ground.


    A rapid, jarring voice suddenly filled Michael''s ears:


    "Look at me. Look now. Can you see me? Isn''t this what you wanted? I''ve come just as you wished. Isn''t it good? Don''t you like it? Answer me. Speak. Speak now. Why aren''t you answering? Why won''t you speak? Why won''t you¡ª"


    The words poured forth in a torrent, overwhelming him. Yet the voice was familiar¡ªdry and emotionless, like the one he''d heard before.


    As Michael staggered back, his vision expanded. A towering, pale figure stood before him, her body unnaturally tall. Even standing, Michael barely reached her ankles. In her hand, she clutched a colossal, severed head¡ªthe same one that had first appeared to him.


    Why hadn''t he recognized it sooner? The woman held her own decapitated head, and Michael felt his breath hitch. His lips quivered as he realized the truth: he was nothing more than a plaything, and she could destroy him with the flick of a finger.


    Michael''s scream tore through the silence as he jolted awake.


    Clara and Henry were at his side, their faces etched with concern.


    "Are you alright?" Clara asked, brushing a hand across his forehead. "You''re drenched in sweat. Did you have a bad dream? You should rest."


    "I''m fine," Michael said, forcing a smile. "I just nodded off." S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "You probably had a nightmare," Henry teased, though his eyes held a hint of worry.


    Michael chuckled nervously. Was it truly just a dream? Deep down, he knew it wasn''t. The eerie encounter felt linked to the voice he''d heard earlier that day.


    Pushed by his relatives to rest, Michael returned to his room, locking the door behind him. Sliding down against the wall, he clutched his chest, feeling the frantic pounding of his heart. No matter how much he tried to calm himself, the terror lingered.


    After a long while, he finally stood. But as he did, the voice returned, resonating in his mind.


    [The function creation is complete. Settings can now be adjusted. Please assign a name.]


    No matter how tightly Michael covered his ears, the voice continued to echo.


    [The function creation is complete. Settings can now be adjusted. Please assign a name.]


    The demand grew sharper and more insistent.


    [Assign a name.]


    [Name.]


    [NAME!]


    Fear gripped Michael. It felt as though the towering woman from his dream might appear if he didn''t comply. Panicked, he shouted the first name that came to mind.


    "Penelope! Your name is Penelope!"


    A satisfied sigh followed, and the voice finally subsided. Michael''s hands were clammy with sweat. What on earth was that?


    As the fear ebbed, he began to think more clearly. Whatever Penelope was, her abilities were undeniably useful. Despite her terrifying appearance, she hadn''t harmed him¡ªif anything, she seemed oddly pleased with him.


    Driven by a strange compulsion, Michael closed his eyes and whispered, "Penelope."


    [Yes, state the desired setting,] the voice replied.


    "Show me how much mana is left for revivals or ability extractions."


    [Setting applied as requested.]


    A graph appeared before Michael, showing his current mana level at half capacity. The clear visualization calmed him slightly, the tension in his body dissipating. Exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he fell asleep where he sat.


    The next afternoon brought shocking news.


    Lincoln, Michael''s older brother and heir to the Crassus barony, was dead.


    When the news of Lincoln''s death arrived, Michael was tending to the injured daughter of the village blacksmith. The wound¡ªa deep gash on her shin¡ªwas serious but not life-threatening. It would have healed quickly with healing magic, but such luxuries were beyond the reach of commoners.


    In this land, only the wealthy or noble had access to healing magic. Most villagers sought aid from the executioner''s family for injuries or ailments that couldn''t be managed at home. For those even poorer, the only option was the unlicensed barbers who performed crude surgeries for as little as nine coppers, with a survival rate of barely 20%. And yet, even those services were out of reach for many serfs, who could only pray not to succumb to infections or sickness.


    Michael carefully stitched the girl''s exposed muscle, bandaged the wound, and advised her to keep it cool with cold compresses. The shy girl nodded repeatedly, thanking him profusely as she handed him three silvers before limping out of the treatment room.


    Watching her leave, Michael sighed. The treatment fee was far too low, but he had no choice. Raising the price would drive away those in need.


    The people of the barony lived on the edge of subsistence, praying for enough food to eat and for their families to stay healthy. Though two years had passed since the last territorial war, the village''s condition had barely improved. Last summer''s storm had destroyed many fields, and several workers were swept away while attempting to clear clogged riverbanks. The recent accident at the logging site only worsened the community''s already dire situation.


    By contrast, Michael''s family lived comfortably enough to keep their fees low. The real problem was that Michael''s personal finances were painfully light.


    Back in the castle, Lincoln''s death had caused an uproar. A courier reported that Lincoln had died during a beast subjugation mission. While camping with his unit, he was allegedly attacked and killed by a bear. Witnesses claimed to have seen a hungry-looking bear lingering near the campsite, even approaching a cooking pot before being chased away with firewood.

 Chapter 10 Weve Come to Fetch Him

    Lincoln was found alone in his tent, and the exact circumstances of his death remained unclear. The truth might be discovered by summoning a grand mage from the capital to question Lincoln''s lingering soul, but his death hardly warranted such effort or expense. It was neither noble nor heroic.In his vanity, Lincoln had pitched his tent away from the common soldiers, seeking to maintain a pristine, aristocratic appearance even in the wilderness¡ªa decision that cost him his life. Two guards stationed near Lincoln''s tent testified that a large creature, likely the bear, had knocked them unconscious. By the time they awoke, Lincoln was already dead.


    Rumors spread that Lincoln''s penchant for eating alone in his tent had attracted the bear. His death became a subject of mockery, not mourning.


    Baron Crassus, Lincoln''s father, was devastated. The son he had sent away to ensure his survival had met his end in such a foolish manner. If Lincoln were still alive, the baron might have beaten him to death himself.


    More pressing than grief was the issue of succession. Without a recognized heir within six months, the barony''s status would be jeopardized, requiring complex and costly interventions.


    "Lincoln, you fool¡­" the baron muttered. Though a moment of sadness flickered within him, it was short-lived. The world was ruthless, a place where only the strong survived. Considering the hereditary nature of intelligence, perhaps it was better for the family that Lincoln was gone.


    The resources invested in Lincoln were a waste, but dwelling on it now was pointless. The baron resolved to focus on the family''s future. Summoning his retainers, he began planning his next move.


    Among those gathered was Ronald, the barony''s sole knight aside from Michael. Ronald, known for his martial prowess but not his intelligence, stepped forward.


    "My lord," he said, "allow me to fetch Michael. If we show him the proper respect, I''m sure he will gladly accept his role."


    The baron shook his head. Only someone ignorant of the past would say such a thing. Ronald might be a skilled warrior, but his lack of insight was glaring. Then again, if he were both clever and strong, he wouldn''t still be in this barony.


    A scribe seated beside Ronald leaned over and whispered in his ear. Ronald''s face paled as the details sank in.


    "Th-that''s¡­ If that''s true, my lord, this is no ordinary matter. Returning to them after what happened would be shameless," Ronald stammered, horrified.


    The other retainers avoided his gaze, their faces flushed with discomfort. Ignoring Ronald''s blunder, the baron addressed the treasurer.


    "Even devils can be swayed by profit. Treasurer, how much can we offer as a gesture of goodwill?"


    After a moment of calculation, the treasurer replied, "We could manage 5,000 gold coins. That should be enough to purchase a growth elixir. Along with a warhorse from the Pamir Highlands, a high-quality longsword, and full plate armor, it would be a substantial gift." S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The baron nodded thoughtfully. Such gifts could elevate Michael''s status as a knight, enabling him to ascend from a mere 9th-tier novice to an 8th-tier or even a 7th-tier knight if he had the talent. Growth elixirs, rare and valuable, refined a knight''s mana channels, accelerating their development.


    While most knights plateaued at the 7th tier, exceptional individuals might reach the 6th tier by middle age. Growth elixirs were often exclusive to ancient noble families, passed down as secret formulas. As a baron, Crassus could only acquire one through auctions or connections.


    "Secure the gifts immediately," the baron ordered. "Once everything is ready, Sir Ronald and I will personally seek forgiveness and bring Michael back. As for Lincoln¡­"


    Despite his frustrations, the baron couldn''t entirely suppress his paternal grief. Suppressing the emotion, he continued to issue commands.


    The baron''s voice rang out as the meeting concluded.


    "Lincoln''s funeral will be a private affair for family only. There''s no need for anyone else to attend. As for the succession, Michael will be the next heir. You may all leave."


    The retainers exchanged uneasy glances before bowing and departing, leaving the baron alone to grapple with his emotions.


    Meanwhile, the news of Lincoln''s death left Michael with mixed feelings. The manner of his brother''s death was pathetic¡ªkilled by a bear while camping during a beast subjugation mission. Though it was unfortunate for a young noble to meet such an end, Michael couldn''t summon much sympathy.


    Lincoln had never shown him kindness. They barely interacted, meeting only once or twice a year, and every encounter was marred by Lincoln''s scorn and intimidation. For the original Michael, Lincoln''s cruelty had culminated in the fateful shove that sent him plummeting from the castle wall, ending his life.


    For Michael, Lincoln''s death at the hands of a bear seemed almost poetic¡ªa form of karmic retribution.


    Still, the situation forced Michael to confront an uncomfortable reality: as the barony''s new heir, he might have to leave the home he had grown to love.


    Despite the short time he had spent with them, Michael had come to see his maternal family as true kin. Clara''s warm smiles, Henry''s patient guidance, and Alfred''s silent but steadfast support had built a sense of belonging he hadn''t felt in either of his lives.


    Even Alfred, whose piercing gaze sometimes seemed to penetrate Michael''s secret, felt like family. Michael didn''t want to leave.


    But another part of him¡ªa part growing stronger every day¡ªhungered for more. His body was changing, growing stronger and faster, and he couldn''t help but yearn for greater purpose and challenges. If leaving this place was inevitable, he resolved to extract the best possible terms from the situation.


    The baron and Sir Ronald arrived the day after Lincoln''s death was announced. Standing in the front yard of Alfred''s house, the baron looked around impatiently before clearing his throat to prompt Ronald.


    Ronald, oblivious, stood awkwardly until the baron nudged him with a whisper. Startled, the knight stumbled forward and knocked on the door.


    Henry answered, his expression neutral.


    "What brings you here?" he asked.


    Ronald glanced at the baron, unsure of how to respond.


    "I¡­ I''ve come to¡­ fetch Michael," he stammered, his voice incongruously meek for someone of his size.


    Annoyed by Ronald''s fumbling, the baron stepped forward. "There''s been an incident at the castle," he began.

 Chapter 11

    Henry froze momentarily before offering measured condolences. "I am sorry for your loss. It''s a tragic event." sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.The baron waved off the sentiment. Despite being the lord of the barony, he couldn''t assert his authority too forcefully here¡ªnot with Henry, who was both the heir to the executioner''s legacy and his brother-in-law.


    "Life is short, and he''s been called to the light of the Radiant One. He''ll find peace," the baron said coolly.


    To Henry, who had never forgotten the children Clara had lost, the baron''s indifference was incomprehensible. But his growing anger was only stoked by the baron''s next words.


    "I''ve come to take Michael with me."


    Henry''s temper flared. He glared at the baron, his resemblance to Alfred unmistakable in that moment.


    "Where do you intend to take him, my lord? Michael''s home is here. He has work to do today and nowhere else to be."


    Ignoring Henry''s indignation, the baron called out toward the house. "Michael! Come out. We need to talk."


    Henry stepped forward, his voice firm. "If you have something to say, you''ll say it to me. I am Michael''s guardian."


    "I am his father," the baron countered, his tone sharp. "I have every right¡ª"


    "You gave up that right long ago. Twice over, in fact. You have no claim here!" Henry snapped, his anger burning bright.


    From behind him, a cutting voice chimed in. "That''s enough."


    Clara stepped forward, her tone cold as steel.


    The baron removed his hat and offered her a polite nod, unruffled. For nobles, shamelessness was a necessary skill.


    "Clara, it''s been a while. I trust you''ve been well?" He paused, then continued smoothly, "As you may have heard, my eldest son has passed. Michael now has the right to inherit as the family''s heir."


    Clara faltered. She despised the baron''s calculating use of Lincoln''s death as leverage, but the truth of his words was undeniable.


    Her thoughts turned to Michael. Though she had poured all her love into him, there was always a shadow of longing in his eyes¡ªa void left by the affection he had been denied. She remembered the night he left for the castle, determined to claim his place as a knight. His parting words, laced with anger and bitterness, still stung. She didn''t want to hear them again.


    Tears welled up in her eyes, but before they could fall, a warm hand rested on her shoulder.


    "It''s alright, Aunt Clara. I''ll handle this."


    Michael''s voice cut through the tension as he emerged from the house.


    Michael couldn''t help but curse his predecessor. The memories of the original Michael were fresh in his mind, and the sheer arrogance and recklessness of that boy made his blood boil. To be raised with care and love by relatives who took him in as a baby, only to hurl insults at them? Unforgivable.


    Having grown up in an orphanage himself, Michael knew the pain and struggles of children abandoned by their parents. For Michael, who now held the memories of both lives, it was appalling how the original Michael had treated Clara and Henry, his aunt and uncle. Their warm, nurturing care had been met with nothing but cruelty.


    Michael turned to Clara and Henry, both looking at him with worry etched on their faces. He reassured them gently, sending them back into the house. Whatever needed to be done, he would handle it himself.


    Michael and the baron walked along a forest trail, tension crackling in the air. Michael knew he needed to show his anger first.


    "Why now, Father?" Michael demanded, his voice sharp. "You abandoned me when I was injured, sent me away like I was nothing. And now, suddenly, you need me because Lincoln is dead? When Lincoln tried to kill me, you said nothing."


    "Don''t let emotions control you," the baron replied coolly. "That''s not how a noble behaves."


    "Taking responsibility for one''s actions is the duty of a noble, isn''t it? Owning up to one''s mistakes and paying for them¡ªthat''s what it means to be noble," Michael shot back.


    "You certainly have a lot to say," the baron muttered, clearing his throat. He waved Ronald away to give them privacy before turning back to face Michael. His eyes softened for a moment. She really does live on in him.


    "I won''t waste time on sentiment," the baron continued. "Think of the benefits. You''ll inherit everything¡ªlands, soldiers, title, the castle, and all of Crassus'' wealth. Isn''t that what you wanted?"


    Michael''s lips curled into a sneer. "I used to want it. Not anymore. I don''t care what happens to the barony. Go home. I''ve decided to live as an executioner."


    The baron''s composure wavered. "I''ve prepared growth elixirs, a Pamir Highland warhorse, armor, and a longsword for you. Do you realize how much I''ve invested? Five thousand gold¡ªhalf of the barony''s annual income!"


    Michael''s laugh was cold. "Five thousand? Do you think I''m a fool?"


    He knew better. With six thousand freemen in the barony, even with taxes and tithes to the Radiant Church, the baron''s annual income was far higher than that. And the equipment he offered¡ªa knight''s basic gear¡ªwas nothing more than an obligation the barony owed its heir. The only true gift was the growth elixir, and even that wasn''t enough to sway him.


    As Michael''s expression grew darker, the baron''s anxiety deepened. Finally, the older man relented.


    "What do you want?" he asked, his tone almost pleading.


    Michael crossed his arms, weighing his options. "Three thousand gold as reparations and one hundred mana stones. Deliver them by tonight."


    The baron winced but calculated quickly. Given the barony''s size, sourcing one hundred mana stones was feasible, though it would require depleting reserves. Michael''s demand was steep but not unreasonable.


    "Why mana stones? You''re not planning to forge a cursed sword, are you? Your grandfather would never allow it."


    A cursed sword? Michael thought, connecting the dots. So that mysterious weapon really was special. But he kept his thoughts to himself. "What I do with them is my business. Will you pay, or shall we end this conversation?"

 Chapter 12 Grandfather

    After a tense silence, the baron conceded, though he grimaced. "I can give you fifty mana stones and five hundred gold. That''s the best I can do. You''ll have to be content with that."Michael didn''t respond, his silence a clear refusal.


    Grinding his teeth, the baron raised his offer. "Seventy mana stones, but I can''t give you more gold. Do you want the barony to collapse?"


    Michael''s eyes narrowed dangerously. Collapse? Did the baron really expect him to believe that after being cast aside twice, he should return for a paltry five hundred gold?


    Realizing his misstep, the baron hastily continued. "Fine! One hundred mana stones and seven hundred gold. That''s all I can spare. The barony''s reserves are already strained." S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael doubted that. For a man who had ruled for over forty years, the baron surely had hidden funds. Still, he allowed the baron to sweat as he mulled over the offer.


    Seeing Michael turn slightly away, the baron''s voice became more urgent. "What about your sisters? Should they be married off with nothing? Fine¡ªone thousand gold, plus a five-hundred-gold mana beast core. It''s a manticore''s core, fifth-tier. Consuming it will increase your mana reserves, or you can refine it into a detoxifying artifact."


    That caught Michael''s attention. A smile crept onto his face.


    "Very well. That will do. Go fetch the payment, and while you''re at it, bring Lincoln''s body. We''ll host his funeral here, free of charge. It''s only right to see him off personally."


    The baron exhaled in relief. It was a steep price, but far better than losing the barony entirely. The negotiation concluded, they parted ways. Any pretense of familial harmony was overshadowed by the gulf of mistrust between them.


    The baron delivered on his promise. Ronald personally brought a wagon to Michael''s home, laden with the agreed items. Handing over the goods, Ronald hesitated before speaking.


    "Michael," he began awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "Don''t hate the baron too much. He''s been through a lot."


    Michael barely acknowledged him, focused instead on counting the gold, mana stones, and securing the manticore core.


    Turning to the wagon, Michael retrieved Lincoln''s body, now sealed in an icy preservation spell. Placing it into a temporary coffin, Michael addressed Ronald without looking at him.


    "The funeral will be held in two days. Tell my father to be ready and prepare accordingly. It will be a family affair."


    Ronald faltered but nodded. Michael sighed and continued.


    Michael''s response to Ronald was calm, though his tone carried a touch of warmth.


    "I don''t blame my father. Everyone has their burdens. After the funeral, I''ll head to the castle. Please look out for me then, Uncle Ronald."


    Hearing the familiar childhood title, Ronald''s eyes glistened with tears. "Ah, young master Michael, you haven''t forgotten. Please, always call me that."


    Michael, uneasy at the sight of Ronald''s tearful face, quickly turned away and began moving Lincoln''s body into the workshop. Ronald''s booming promise to return soon echoed as Michael disappeared inside.


    Inside the workshop, Henry and Clara were tending to the five bodies brought in earlier. When Clara noticed Michael, she looked up, her face lined with concern.


    "So, you''re going to the castle?" she asked softly.


    "Yes," Michael replied. "I don''t have much choice. I can''t let the barony fall into the wrong hands. Don''t worry, Aunt Clara. It''s mostly for appearances. I''ll find a way to balance being an executioner and managing the estate."


    "I just don''t want you to overwork yourself," Clara said, her voice tinged with worry. "Can you really do both? Where will you stay?"


    "I''ll stay here," Michael assured her. "Being the heir doesn''t mean I need to hover around the castle all day. I can train with the knights in the mornings, return here in the afternoons, and learn the administrative work as I go. You know how quick I am at picking things up."


    Clara smiled faintly and resumed her work. "I do know. But still, don''t push yourself too hard. No matter what, we''re always here to support you."


    Michael joined them in their work, preparing the bodies for burial. As night fell, he planned to test the mana stones provided by the baron. His thoughts briefly drifted to Alfred, who hadn''t returned that evening.


    "Grandfather isn''t back yet, I see," Michael remarked.


    "He''s overseeing a funeral for the Korsik family," Clara explained. "He won''t return until tomorrow at the earliest."


    By the time they finished dressing the five bodies in clothing provided by the bereaved families, it was late into the night. Michael''s stomach growled, reminding him he hadn''t eaten properly. Over a hastily prepared meal, he listened to Henry and Clara talk before retreating to his room.


    Alone in his room, Michael took out the mana stones from the chest. The polished stones shimmered under the lamplight, their beauty belying their staggering cost.


    "One stone costs 30 gold, and it takes three just to fuel a single ability?" Michael muttered to himself, his shoulders sagging at the thought of the ever-increasing power requirements. The 100 stones he''d secured from the baron would barely last three uses before they were depleted.


    "Penelope," he called. "Absorb the mana."


    [Activation conditions met. Absorbing mana. Mana fully absorbed. Ability activation conditions not met. Function terminated.]


    Warm energy coursed through Michael''s body as the mana flowed inward. Satisfied for now, he decided to test his newfound power in the morning, focusing on the body of the eldest lumberjack among the corpses.


    Morning brought frustration. Michael had tried everything with the lumberjack''s corpse¡ªtouching it, lifting it, even inspecting it thoroughly¡ªbut nothing worked.


    [Ability activation conditions not met.]


    What was the missing condition? Growling in annoyance, Michael''s eyes landed on another lumberjack''s decapitated body. Perhaps¡­ he would need to sever a head?


    He hesitated before untying the stitches on the severed head, but even that yielded nothing.


    [Ability activation conditions not met.]


    More confused than ever, Michael sighed heavily and began re-stitching the lumberjack''s head, apologizing silently to the deceased. Afterward, he went through the other corpses in the workshop, touching and lifting them, but the result was always the same.

 Chapter 13

    [Ability activation conditions not met.]As his irritation grew, Michael''s gaze shifted toward the temporary coffin containing Lincoln''s body. He had avoided looking at it, unwilling to confront the mangled remains of the brother who had once shoved him off a castle wall. But now, there was no other option.


    With a deep breath, Michael opened the coffin. Lincoln''s body lay in a grotesque state, his neck torn clean from his torso. The sight stirred conflicting emotions within Michael. Though Lincoln had wronged him, he couldn''t suppress a pang of pity.


    Steeling himself, Michael reached for Lincoln''s severed head.


    [Mana fully absorbed. Activation conditions met. Would you like to resurrect this individual? Yes/No.]


    The prompt made Michael freeze. What''s the difference this time? He dismissed his curiosity, unwilling to risk reviving Lincoln.


    [10 seconds elapsed. Resurrection option expired. Would you like to extract a random ability? Yes/No.]


    "Yes!" Michael mentally shouted, closing his eyes.


    The familiar vision of a starry sky appeared, and a single bright star descended into him.


    [Extracting the ability ''Noble Demeanor'' from Lincoln von Crassus. Would you like to explore the origin of this ability?]


    Michael nodded, and Lincoln''s compressed life story played out in his mind.


    [Lincoln von Crassus took immense pride in his noble heritage. He considered refinement in dance, rhetoric, and appreciation for fine arts essential traits of nobility. Believing bloodline trumped talent, he whipped two servants to death for perceived disrespect and pushed his gifted younger brother off a castle wall. While fleeing the barony, he was caught and executed by Alfred von Vittelbach, his grandfather.]


    Michael''s breath caught. Executed? By Grandfather? Something didn''t add up.


    "Grandfather¡­?" Michael murmured, confusion and unease blooming in his chest.


    Michael felt cold sweat trickle down his back. Executed? Lincoln was executed by Grandfather?


    His grandfather''s words echoed in his mind: "I am the agent of vengeance and the executor of death."


    Alfred knew. He knew that his grandson Michael was dead and that his body was now occupied by someone else. The execution of Lincoln wasn''t a coincidence¡ªit was justice for Michael''s death. But when had Alfred realized the truth?


    The weight of the revelation pressed heavily on Michael. Was he next? Would Alfred include him in his list of targets for revenge? Without knowing Alfred''s exact standards for judgment, the uncertainty gnawed at him.


    Michael had only one course of action. He would confess and throw himself at his grandfather''s mercy. Running away wasn''t an option¡ªwhere could he go in a world he barely understood? And besides, wasn''t he a victim too? The body was still technically Alfred''s grandson''s, so perhaps Alfred wouldn''t kill him outright. Michael could only hope.


    "Michael, is something wrong? You look pale. Are you feeling ill?" Clara''s concerned voice pulled him back to the present.


    Michael forced a smile, trying to mask his unease. Survival required strategy. "No, Aunt Clara. I''m just worried about what to say when Grandfather gets back. Do you think he has anything he particularly likes? Maybe I could use that to break the ice."


    "Are you nervous about becoming the heir?" Clara asked gently. "He''ll understand. It''s not like you had a choice. Don''t overthink it."


    After a moment''s thought, she added, "If you want to ease the conversation, he does love his pipe. Maybe you could prepare some tobacco for him? Bring it to him and start the discussion there." Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael''s face brightened at the suggestion. Of course¡ªhis pipe! He could clearly picture Alfred sitting by the hearth with his pipe in hand. Why hadn''t he thought of that?


    Alfred returned later that evening, his broad shoulders slumping as he removed his hat and settled into the armchair by the fireplace. He looked weary, and Michael''s stomach churned. He knew why his grandfather was so exhausted¡ªhe had likely used those hands to take Lincoln''s life.


    Alfred''s sharp gaze didn''t miss Michael''s anxious fidgeting. In Michael''s hands was a small box.


    "What''s that?" Alfred asked gruffly.


    Michael stepped forward and handed the box to him. It contained finely shredded, high-quality tobacco leaves¡ªan expensive purchase from the market. Alfred opened it, inhaled the rich aroma, and packed his pipe with the fresh leaves. After lighting it, he took a deep drag, exhaling slowly.


    "Is there something you wish to say?" Alfred asked, his tone neutral as he observed Michael.


    Michael forced another awkward smile. "It''s... hard to talk here. Would you join me for a walk?"


    Alfred drew deeply from his pipe again before shaking his head. "Tomorrow. After the villagers'' funerals. I''m too tired tonight."


    He rose and retreated to his room, the thick wooden door creaking as it closed behind him.


    The next day, Michael stood beside Clara during the funeral, clutching a handkerchief as she dabbed her eyes. The service for the five lumberjacks was solemn but well-attended. A village clerk oversaw the proceedings, and compensation from the castle had reportedly been delivered.


    Alfred presided over the rites, his commanding voice carrying the prayers for the deceased. Michael watched in silence, his mind racing as he planned how to confess.


    "You''re the heir now," Clara whispered, handing him a small object. "Show some sincerity. This is a relic passed down through my family. They say it brings blessings to the departed. Place it on the coffins and offer a prayer."


    Michael accepted the relic, a pendant shaped like radiant light, representing the Church of Radiance. Just as he held it, that familiar, eerie voice spoke in his mind.


    [Would you like to absorb the mana?]


    No! Absolutely not! Michael shouted internally. He couldn''t damage Clara''s family heirloom.


    Following Clara''s instructions, Michael placed the pendant on each of the five coffins in turn, reciting the standard prayer that everyone in the land knew. While his family followed a different faith centered on death and vengeance, the Church of Radiance was so widespread that its rituals weren''t foreign to them.


    After the ceremony, Michael retreated to a secluded spot behind the annex. Once alone, he finally let out a stifled cry of pain.

 Chapter 14 You Called Me

    "Damn it¡­ it hurts so much."His palm bore a dark burn in the exact shape of the pendant. The moment he had refused the offer to absorb mana, a searing pain had erupted in his hand.


    Shivers ran down his spine. What is this? Am I cursed? The memory of that grotesque woman from his dream resurfaced, sending fresh waves of fear through him.


    He resolved to investigate. There might be clues in the family''s collection of books. If not, he''d have to look in the castle''s library.


    After applying a quick poultice to his burned hand, Michael approached Alfred, who had just finished overseeing the funeral. Despite his fear, Michael knew he had to tell the truth.


    Alfred and Michael walked in silence along the forest trail. The only sounds were the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant rustling of branches. Michael was the first to break the silence.


    "Grandfather," he began, his voice steady despite the tension in his chest. "Have you heard the news? My brother Lincoln is dead, and I''ve been named the heir to the barony."


    Alfred''s jet-black eyes, inscrutable as always, fixated on Michael.


    "I already know. It is your rightful claim. You don''t need to explain it to me." sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael hesitated before speaking. "But I don''t want to leave home. I was thinking... maybe I could commute to the castle for training and administration?"


    Alfred paused, considering the suggestion before shaking his head. "Living here while traveling back and forth daily would be unreasonable. You''ll move into the castle. Your uncle and aunt will accompany you to settle in. I''ll finish my tasks here and follow shortly."


    A weight lifted slightly off Michael''s chest. If he wouldn''t be entirely separated from his family, moving into the castle might not be so bad.


    He drew a deep breath. It was time to broach the real topic.


    "Grandfather... have you ever heard stories about people waking up in someone else''s body after a near-death experience? Or finding themselves in an entirely different world?"


    Alfred came to an abrupt halt. Michael nearly bumped into his back before steadying himself.


    "...Is that what happened to you?"


    The unspoken wall of pretense between them shattered. Michael had no more room to back away now. Would Alfred treat him like a stranger? Cast him out?


    For a fleeting moment, Michael''s mind raced with horrifying images¡ªbeing exorcised like an evil spirit, his existence wiped away by some holy rite.


    Then Alfred spoke.


    "There''s no need to explain. I summoned you."


    Michael blinked in shock, his head snapping up to meet Alfred''s gaze. What does he mean by that?


    "When you fell from the wall and entered a coma, I had only one option left: to bring you back. The ritual succeeded, and you woke. I don''t know where you came from or what kind of life you lived before. But one thing is certain¡ªyou cannot summon a soul that is not linked to the body. Whether your memories are from a past life or the life ahead, you are still my grandson. So don''t be afraid. I will never harm you."


    Relief washed over Michael, so profound it made his knees weak. He was safe.


    The question of whether he was Michael''s reincarnation or an interloper faded into irrelevance. Whatever the case, Alfred acknowledged him as his grandson.


    The two sat on a fallen tree trunk.


    "Do Uncle and Aunt Clara know about this?" Michael asked cautiously.


    "They don''t need to. Unless you choose to reveal it, no one else will know. And I''d prefer you live as Michael."


    That made sense. Having accepted his situation, Michael resolved to embrace this life fully.


    "How did you figure it out? That I wasn''t... the original Michael?"


    "I can see through to the essence of things. But don''t worry¡ªno one else can discern it unless they''ve been intimately familiar with you."


    Michael fidgeted, tracing patterns in the dirt with his shoe. He looked up hesitantly.


    "Can I still call you Grandfather?"


    "Of course. You''re my grandson. Who else would call me that?"


    Alfred''s voice was gruff but carried a warmth that made Michael''s chest ache.


    "In your old world, what kind of life did you live?" Alfred asked, his tone even.


    "I was much older than I am now. An orphan¡ªI never knew my parents, and I never married. But I worked hard and lived decently. The world I came from was more advanced than this one¡ªno social classes, lots of advanced technology. I was a soldier, piloting something called a ''fighter jet.'' It''s like an artifact that flies. My last memory is showing off some aerial maneuvers before crashing... and waking up here."


    Alfred was silent for a moment before asking, "Do you regret ending up here?"


    Michael met his grandfather''s gaze squarely. "Not at all. Never."


    After sending Michael back home, Alfred continued his walk deeper into the forest.


    A rustling sound came from the bushes behind him.


    "Mrow."


    A small black kitten emerged, its emerald eyes gleaming. Its fur was sleek as ink, and it moved with deliberate grace.


    "Alfred, why didn''t you tell him the whole truth?"


    The kitten''s words were unmistakably human, yet Alfred showed no surprise.


    "What truth didn''t I tell him?" Alfred responded flatly.


    "He''s Michael''s soul, but not entirely. You have a duty, don''t you? To eliminate the foreign entity. Why are you keeping him alive?"


    Alfred raised his hand, and dark tendrils of shadow snaked out, enveloping the kitten and lifting it into the air.


    "Eek! What are you doing?! You can''t punish someone just for speaking their mind!"


    "He is my grandson. Say one more word, and I will not be so lenient."


    The kitten flailed its legs helplessly before being dropped unceremoniously to the ground.


    "Fine! But what if the foreign deity claims him? What will you do then? By then, it''ll be too late!"


    Alfred''s voice was icy and resolute. "I will seal her myself."

 Chapter 15

    "I won''t help you!" the kitten yowled. "You''re on your own. Binding me with that ridiculous contract was already bad enough!"Shadow surged from Alfred''s hand, menacingly close to the kitten. sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "If Michael comes to harm while I''m away..."


    The kitten whimpered, its ears flattening. "F-fine! But you''ll owe me! One gold coin a day, fresh meat for every meal, and two liters of milk!"


    Alfred''s tone was indifferent. "You start once Michael leaves for the castle. Remember your duty."


    With its tail dragging, the kitten trudged back into the woods, grumbling as it went.


    Behind it, Alfred murmured to himself.


    "I just don''t want to make the same mistake again. Never again..."


    Michael entered the house with an uncharacteristic lightness in his step. The world seemed brighter, colors more vivid, and even the air carried a sweet aroma. To be accepted for who he was, without needing to distinguish between his past and present selves, was a revelation.


    But above all, his grandfather had acknowledged him as family. As someone abandoned at an orphanage with no trace of his origins, even being able to claim the most common surname felt like a hollow privilege. Now, he had a family¡ªtrue kin.


    His father''s aloofness and his brother''s betrayal were minor details compared to the love and support of his aunt, uncle, and a grandfather willing to summon his very soul from another realm. Michael''s heart swelled with gratitude as he stepped into the house, but an unusual silence greeted him.


    "Uncle? Aunt Clara?"


    Realizing where they must be, Michael''s expression softened. "They''re probably working on Lincoln''s body," he thought.


    With slight hesitation, Michael made his way to the separate annex. Despite the bitterness of their relationship and Lincoln''s attempts to kill him, Michael felt compelled to pay his respects. After all, Lincoln had unknowingly left Michael a valuable gift: the ability, "Nobility''s Refinement."


    His body now moved with an elegance he had never known. He instinctively understood the art of formal dining, the nuances of escorting a lady, and even the rhythm of a proper waltz. If anything, Michael almost felt indebted to his late brother.


    The annex was abuzz with quiet yet focused activity. Uncle Henry worked alongside Aunt Clara, meticulously preparing Lincoln''s remains. The sight of Lincoln''s reassembled body made Michael pause. Clara''s touch had transformed Lincoln''s once-terrified expression into a semblance of serene sleep. His severed neck had been expertly stitched, and his face was smoothed to near perfection.


    Michael joined them, assisting with the final preparations. The outfit provided by the castle¡ªa frilled shirt and tights¡ªsuited Lincoln''s scholarly and delicate features.


    The next day, Lincoln''s modest funeral brought together the remnants of the Crassus family. Present were the baron, Michael''s father; Lincoln''s full-blood sister, Elizabeth; and their younger half-sisters, Phoebe and Kate, who were twins.


    Michael silently observed the gathering. A family where siblings shared multiple mothers, where half-brothers attempted murder¡ªit was the epitome of dysfunction. Elizabeth, as the eldest daughter, took the position of hostess in the absence of a baroness. Though she wasn''t particularly close to Lincoln, her sense of propriety dictated her actions.


    The twins, only fifteen and deeply sentimental, seemed detached from the somber atmosphere. Their limited interactions with Lincoln, coupled with their awareness of his disdain for their merchant-class maternal heritage, left them with little sorrow for his passing.


    After a brief eulogy, the family took turns laying flowers on Lincoln''s casket. Michael followed suit, placing a rose from the castle''s greenhouse. His solemn expression seemed to embody forgiveness and compassion, elevating his presence to something almost saintly.


    Even Elizabeth, who often harbored mixed feelings about her half-brother, couldn''t deny Michael''s striking appearance. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, seemingly more captivated by Michael than consumed by grief.


    After the ceremony, the family retired to share refreshments. The atmosphere was strained, their relationships as cold as the weather. Elizabeth and Clara were the only ones engaging in polite conversation. They exchanged compliments on attire and shared household tips while the rest of the family sat in awkward silence.


    The baron finally broke the tension.


    "Well, now that Michael is assuming the role of heir, there will be many changes. Elizabeth, you''re of age now; it''s time to think about marriage. When Michael goes to the capital for his formal registration, you should accompany him to find a suitable match."


    Elizabeth stiffened, her striking blue eyes narrowing. Her words, though measured, carried an edge.


    "I''ll maintain my dignity by keeping this brief, Father. I don''t believe traveling to the capital is necessary for finding a husband."


    The baron frowned. "And what options do you think this backwater offers? You''ll never find a worthy match here."


    Elizabeth''s beauty was renowned in neighboring territories, and the baron held high hopes for a prestigious alliance.


    "If there''s no one suitable, I''ll remain here and bring in a knight as a consort. It would solve multiple problems at once. Besides, Phoebe and Kate are younger¡ªthey have better prospects in the capital."


    The twins, who had been quietly nibbling on pastries, suddenly became defensive.


    "Excuse me? Are you trying to get rid of us, Elizabeth?"


    "She''s the prettiest one¡ªshe should go," Phoebe added, her voice dripping with sarcasm.


    Kate chimed in, "Yeah, we know our limits. No way we''re getting matched with a capital noble."


    The twins'' sharp retorts reflected their disinterest in leaving their home and the safety it offered. They''d already experienced the judgment and condescension directed at their merchant-born mother.


    Meanwhile, Michael observed the exchange without a word. The baron''s increasingly strained attempts to foster unity among his children only highlighted their disconnection. Michael, watching from the sidelines, couldn''t help but view the situation with a mix of pity and amusement.

 Chapter 16 Its a Racial Trait!

    The baron was utterly defeated.Elizabeth''s sharp wit and the twins'' cheeky remarks left him grasping for control. Though he wanted nothing more than to see at least one of his daughters married off, forcing the matter would only backfire.


    In hindsight, Elizabeth''s suggestion wasn''t entirely unreasonable. Rather than pouring resources into debuting her in the capital''s cutthroat social scene, it might be wiser to find a skilled knight nearby and bring him into the family as a consort.


    As he began to entertain this alternative, the atmosphere shifted. There was tension brewing, and the baron couldn''t shake the unease that had begun to gnaw at him.


    Turning to Michael, he asked, "When will you be moving to the castle?"


    "Two or three days should be enough to prepare," Michael replied with a calm confidence.


    At least his last remaining son was cooperative, even if the baron knew that cooperation had come at a steep financial cost.


    Once the baron and his family returned to the castle, Clara eagerly helped Michael pack. S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Knowing she and Henry would be accompanying him, her excitement was palpable.


    She hummed a light tune as she folded clothes and organized belongings, her joy infectious.


    Michael couldn''t help but smile at her enthusiasm. This time, returning to the castle would be different. No longer an outsider, Michael was the heir¡ªand the family''s investment in securing his goodwill extended to those he cared about.


    The morning''s funeral and Alfred''s cryptic words echoed in his mind: "I''ll ensure you claim everything that''s rightfully yours."


    Moving into the castle with his aunt and uncle was the first step in realizing that promise.


    Once packing was done, Michael grabbed his sword and bow to head outside.


    Strength and skill were paramount, especially now. In a land rife with territorial disputes and tribal skirmishes, an heir who couldn''t defend his claim would be devoured.


    Determined to excel, Michael practiced until his muscles ached and his breath came in gasps. The effort left him proud, the satisfaction of improvement radiating through him.


    As he returned to the house, he was greeted by an unexpected sight: Clara playing with a kitten in the living room.


    The tiny black cat, adorned with a red ribbon, batted at its own tail with playful enthusiasm.


    "Where''d the cat come from?" Michael asked, intrigued.


    "I found her while hanging laundry. She wobbled over to me, poor thing, so I gave her some milk. She was so hungry! I think she''s just a kitten and might have lost her mother. Isn''t she adorable? I thought we could keep her."


    The kitten, as if understanding the conversation, tilted her head and let out a soft meow.


    "Meow?"


    Michael laughed. "She''s a cute one, all right. Can I hold her?"


    Clara handed over the kitten, who fit snugly in Michael''s hands. Her fur was impossibly soft, like silk, and her weight felt oddly substantial for such a small creature.


    "She''s so light," Michael said, stroking her gently as she stretched lazily in his arms.


    "Have you named her yet?"


    "Not yet. Would you like to?"


    "How about Nyangnyang? She meows so much, it seems fitting¡ªow!"


    The kitten, as if offended, extended her claws and scrambled up Michael''s shoulder.


    "She likes it!" Michael declared, laughing as the kitten perched and purred.


    "Look! She''s wagging her tail. That means she''s happy, right?"


    Clara hesitated. "I think... I''ve heard cats wag their tails when they''re annoyed..."


    Michael shrugged. "She''s just playful. Aren''t you, Nyangnyang?"


    Despite her doubts, Clara didn''t press the issue. If Nyangnyang brought Michael joy, that was enough.


    To her surprise, Alfred welcomed the kitten as well. He even instructed them to feed her meat and fresh milk daily.


    Nyangnyang quickly made herself at home, following Michael wherever he went. At night, she curled up at his feet, her warmth a comforting presence.


    While Michael slept, Nyangnyang slipped out to find Alfred.


    Her emerald eyes glinted in the moonlight as she confronted him.


    "You heard him!" she hissed.


    Alfred, calm as ever, merely raised an eyebrow. "Heard what?"


    "My name! He dared to call me Nyangnyang!"


    Alfred''s lips twitched, but he suppressed his laughter. "It''s a charming name."


    "Charming? It''s humiliating! Tell him my real name or I''m leaving!"


    Alfred''s expression hardened. "You signed a contract, Sphinx. Or have you forgotten the meat, milk, and gold you''ve received?"


    The kitten, bristling with indignation, hissed again. "It''s Neferteri Hatshepsut Sphinx, not Nyangnyang! Do you understand how degrading this is?"


    "And yet here you are, meowing. It suits you."


    Her hissing turned into a full-blown snarl. "That''s a racial trait, not my choice!"


    Alfred''s rare chuckle echoed in the quiet forest.


    As the moon hung high, Michael slept soundly, blissfully unaware of the drama surrounding his new companion.


    The next day, Michael entered the castle with a black cat perched haughtily on his shoulder. Attempts to remove the feline were futile, as it bared its claws and growled threateningly whenever disturbed.


    Clara and Henry accompanied him. They had agreed to use the castle''s basement for their work when necessary. Since the previous executioners had also conducted their tasks within the castle, no special preparations were required.


    Arriving at the castle in their carriage, they were greeted by the butler and head maid, who guided them to their respective rooms. Michael''s accommodations were better than during his previous visits. Located on the third floor, his room overlooked the training grounds and had multiple windows, making it both spacious and well-ventilated.


    After inspecting Clara''s and Henry''s quarters and finding them satisfactory, Michael nodded with approval. It was clear that the treatment they received had noticeably improved.


    Sometime later, the butler escorted Michael to the baron''s office. The baron stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out the window.


    "You''ve arrived just in time. But what''s with the cat?" he asked.


    Michael explained the situation, prompting the baron to add, "Well, keeping a pet is fine, but don''t let it interfere with your training. Now that you''re fully immersed in the noble world, there are some things you must keep in mind. The political situation within and around our castle is very complicated. You''re aware that our territory, along with five others, recently separated from the Earl of Barkley, aren''t you?

 Chapter 17 The Answer Ends with

    "Our castle is part of the northeastern region. The court count responsible for this area is from the Woodlock family, and Count Woodlock is a loyal servant of His Majesty the King. However, there''s little need to concern yourself with him¡ªhe holds only an honorary title and resides in the northeastern palace without actual dominion. The true power in the region is Count Charles. He''s as ambitious as he is capable, so be cautious around him."Sigh¡­ If only I had more time to properly train you as my successor¡­"


    Michael, puzzled by the baron''s lament about insufficient time for successor training, soon learned the reason.


    "A critical report arrived yesterday. A group of deranged cultists has settled on the outskirts of Crowley Barony and massacred two villages in succession. Baron Crowley sought aid from both Count Woodlock and Count Charles, and all five neighboring territories have been ordered to join the subjugation effort. As the heir of this domain and a knight, you must accompany me in this expedition. Among the cultists are necromancers, so they won''t be easy foes."


    Michael remained unshaken, having anticipated such developments. In this era, there was even a saying: "Wars grow like barley sprouts," highlighting their frequency. Wars were as common as the barley harvest, be it between kingdoms, empires, or noble factions vying for territory.


    Although this was a subjugation rather than a war, the gathering of northeastern nobles ensured inevitable conflicts. Without the fantastical elements like magic and aura, Michael might have doubted whether he had been reborn in a medieval era. Except for the foreign Pamir Empire, a federation of tribes, the Rubel Continent resembled medieval Europe to a fault.


    "When will we set out?" Michael inquired.


    "We''ll depart at dawn in a week and head to the Kensington Barony, where we''ll join the other reinforcements. There''s no need to go early and become fodder for arrows. Prepare accordingly. The butler will provide you with the promised items. Also, select a couple of squires¡ªthey''re all direct descendants of our vassals and will be of great assistance."


    It was a wise decision. There was no need to take unnecessary risks by leading the vanguard.


    After receiving growth-enhancing elixirs and armor from the butler, Michael headed to the stables. There, a black horse with a massive, imposing frame stood alone, snorting aggressively in one corner.


    The stable master cleared his throat. "That one, sir. It''s got quite the temper. I''m not sure you can tame it within a week. If not, you''ll have to ride another horse."


    Michael locked eyes with the spirited animal as the cat on his shoulder tensed. Climbing onto the horse, he immediately felt the power of its rippling muscles. It was a fine horse. Although it resisted briefly, Michael exerted firm pressure with his thighs, and the animal quickly submitted.


    After circling the training grounds a few times, Michael glanced at the stable master, who stood gaping at the sight. "It''s completely tame. Was it handled incorrectly?" Michael questioned.


    The horse lowered itself to assist Michael''s dismount and followed his commands effortlessly, never requiring a whip. What part of this horse had a bad temperament?


    "Well, it seems it recognizes its master," the stable master stammered. "Everyone else who tried to ride it got thrown off immediately."


    Though the stable master had spent fifty years around horses, he was at a loss for words at Michael''s seamless bond with the animal.


    "So, what''s its name?" the stable master asked. "I can have it engraved on the saddle."


    After a moment''s thought, Michael replied, "Bucephalus." The name matched that of the famous horse of a legendary conqueror from a past life.


    The stable master, Paul, nodded approvingly, finding the name fitting. After riding Bucephalus a few more laps around the training grounds, Michael dismounted, feeling refreshed. Nothing beat exercise for lifting one''s spirits.


    At a well by the training grounds, Michael splashed his face with cold water when Sir Ronald approached, leading a group of a dozen children. The youngsters, visibly tense, stood in silence.


    A knight required at least two squires to assist with tasks such as donning and removing armor, calming and grooming horses after battle, and maintaining weapons. These children, selected from the kin of vassals, were undoubtedly talented.


    As squires, they would have a high chance of becoming knights themselves, learning swordsmanship and gaining experience under their knight''s guidance. On the battlefield, trust in one''s retainers was paramount. A squire was expected to protect their knight, even at the cost of their own life. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    There was a reason that direct descendants or close relatives of loyal vassals were traditionally chosen as squires. The boys standing before Michael ranged from twelve to fifteen years old. They were noticeably taller and sturdier than the average commoners, likely due to better upbringing and nourishment.


    Contemplating how to select his squires, Michael decided on an elimination method. He first made the boys run laps around the training grounds while wearing sandbags to assess their basic stamina. From there, he chose six boys with the best endurance and held a tournament to finalize the selection.


    The boys ran with fierce determination. Watching their desperate efforts, Michael felt a twinge of sympathy. Bringing children this young to the battlefield was far from ideal. Naturally, the older boys had an advantage when it came to stamina, but Michael was determined not to take excessively young squires to war.


    In this harsh, survival-of-the-fittest world, risk was inevitable for those seeking to rise. The boys understood this and threw themselves into the competition as if their lives depended on it. For many, this was a chance to elevate their families and secure even a small parcel of land.


    Eventually, six boys returned to the starting line while the rest collapsed onto the ground, swallowing their tears. The tournament began with wooden swords and ended quickly. Michael named Alex, the winner, and Antony, the runner-up, as his squires. Together, they accompanied him to observe the soldiers'' training.


    What Michael saw left him stunned. The soldiers'' skills were abysmal¡ªworse than he had imagined. Their basic drills were chaotic, and their clumsy handling of spears, with their backsides sticking out awkwardly, was laughable.

 Chapter 18

    To Michael, who had lived as a modern military officer, the current training methods were crude and haphazard. There was no structure, no professionalism. Skills like swordsmanship, spear techniques, and shield usage were passed down exclusively among nobles, resulting in soldiers being little more than disposable meat shields on the battlefield. They served as barriers to buy time for knights to charge.This would not do. Michael needed well-trained soldiers. He wondered if the low standard was unique to his family''s troops or if it reflected the era''s overall military capabilities. Seeking answers, he headed to a library tucked away in a corner of the castle.


    The so-called library was pitifully small, with few books, suggesting a lack of interest in learning among his ancestors. The collection consisted solely of military-related volumes. Michael picked up Introduction to Military Science and began reading. As he suspected, the book''s slim size reflected the near absence of proper training methods or tactics in this era.


    This had to change. As a former air force officer and fighter pilot, Michael felt it was his duty to resolve the situation.


    "Did you all skip breakfast? Why are your responses so weak? Sweating now is better than bleeding on the battlefield. You there, fourth from the left in the second row! Yes, you! Can''t you perform the drill properly?"


    It was winter, yet Michael''s back was drenched in sweat as he barked orders. Jonathan, the second son of a baker who had defied his mother''s protests to become a soldier, began to regret his decision with every fiber of his being. Just three days ago, it had seemed like a cushy job¡ªthree square meals a day and minimal effort, swinging a spear a few times at dawn and dusk.


    Now, the situation was sheer torture. Jumping jacks, squatting runs around the training grounds, and synchronized sit-stand drills were just the beginning. The "demon" leading the training seemed unfazed by the sight of exhausted soldiers collapsing in pain.


    "All responses end with ''Ack!'' Understood, soldiers?" Michael commanded.


    "Ack!" they shouted.


    "Yes!" some replied hesitantly.


    "I said it ends with ''Ack!'' Anyone who replied with ''Yes,'' step forward!"


    Jonathan''s heart sank as tears blurred his vision. Trembling, he stepped forward, spotting his neighbor Hans in the same predicament. At least he wasn''t alone.


    Punished with yet another grueling lap, Jonathan, drenched in sweat and possibly tears, grabbed Hans''s arm to pull him back. "Sorry, my friend," he muttered under his breath. "I have to survive."


    The training was relentless. Even Michael''s squires, five years younger but physically larger, were merciless in their role of disciplining the soldiers. Jonathan began to understand why all responses had to end with "Ack!"¡ªit came naturally under such duress.


    Michael observed the scene with satisfaction. In just three days, these ragtag troops had started to form ranks and follow orders with some semblance of discipline. The soldiers'' standardized supplies were another accomplishment. Remembering the chaotic assortment of belongings they had initially brought¡ªsome even lugging thick winter blankets¡ªstill made his head spin.


    Under Michael''s system, each soldier was issued one blanket, one towel, four cloths, a spoon, a fork, a canteen, three changes of underwear, and thermal shirts. Additional items, like multi-layered quilted combat vests, thick cloaks that doubled as ground sheets, and waterproofed paper, were provided to ensure preparedness.


    With help from the castle''s mage, Sergey, Michael had also designed backpacks. Once packed with the issued supplies, the soldiers'' gear began to resemble proper military kits.


    Watching his son drill the troops, the baron felt a swell of pride. Truly, this was his child. The baron marveled at Michael''s ingenuity, wondering how he had come up with such ideas. Knowledge was the most difficult thing to acquire in this world, especially military knowledge, often guarded as family secrets by powerful noble houses. For a family like theirs, with little inherited wisdom, organized training and provisioning were groundbreaking achievements.


    The baron instructed a scribe to observe and document Michael''s training methods. This knowledge must be passed down to future generations.


    After a week of rigorous military training, it was finally time to depart.


    The baron climbed the watchtower and surveyed the gathered soldiers. Before him stood seventy trained domain soldiers and thirty conscripted serf soldiers, arranged in orderly rows and columns. Their tense faces betrayed their unease, and their spears pointed toward the sky, gripped tightly in nervous hands.


    The domain soldiers, hardened by Michael''s grueling training, carried large shields and spears tailored to the tactics he had taught them. While the serf soldiers were similarly armed, their equipment and skills were far inferior. The gap between the two groups was undeniable.


    Like the baron, the other lords had likely gathered only the minimum number of troops required. With all five baronies combined, the force was expected to total around 500 soldiers. The inclusion of Count Charles and other nobles with their retinues should make this number sufficient.


    The serf soldiers among the recruits were volunteers, motivated by the dream of winning glory and securing freedom for their families. In a world where knowledge was scarce, war remained one of the few accessible paths to social mobility. Among them were a few individuals with unusual backgrounds¡ªcaptives from the Pamir Empire who had been enslaved after failing to pay their ransom. These individuals now fought on the front lines for a chance at freedom. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The domain soldiers, in contrast, were mostly freemen who resided within the castle, receiving regular wages and provisions. Thanks to Michael''s rigorous drilling, they now exuded discipline and confidence. There had been no forced conscriptions¡ªneither freemen, valuable taxpayers, nor serfs, crucial as a labor force, were to be mistreated. These individuals could flee to neighboring territories at any time, making coercion a risky and counterproductive strategy.


    Nearby, supply officers loaded food and materials onto wagons pulled by packhorses. Since neither Count Woodlock nor Count Charles was likely to compensate for expenses or manpower, it was essential to ensure that the barony gained some profit from this expedition.

 Chapter 19 Time to Play the Game

    Cutting down the cultists and reclaiming resources from the ravaged territories would require swift action, but they also had to avoid standing out too much, lest they become targets themselves. The delicate balance of inter-baronial politics promised a fierce contest of wits.The baron turned to Michael, his expression grave. News had arrived only yesterday that the cultists had not merely ravaged two villages but had overtaken the entirety of Crowley Barony.


    "How do you plan to deploy the guards?" the baron asked.


    Unlike the regular soldiers, the guards were the military backbone of the domain, trained in swordsmanship and essential to its defense. A significant loss among the guards would deal a critical blow to the barony, whereas the soldiers and serf troops could sustain moderate casualties without jeopardizing its foundation.


    "No matter how poorly defended Crowley Barony might have been, if they overran two villages and captured the castle, the enemy won''t be easy to defeat," Michael replied. "Unfortunately, the late arrival of this information means the soldiers'' training is still lacking. To compensate, I''ve assigned one guard for every ten soldiers, appointing them as unit leaders. Additionally, the supply convoy will include mages and healers for protection, along with ten guards. That should suffice."


    "Well done," the baron acknowledged. Then, after a pause, he asked, "What do you make of the fact that we only received this news on the eve of our departure?"


    The answer was clear to Michael. A faint smirk crossed his face.


    "Whether it''s Count Woodlock or Count Charles, someone seems intent on weakening the five baronies. Otherwise, this information wouldn''t have been so restricted. Given that Count Woodlock has no ties to this land, it''s likely Count Charles''s handiwork."


    The baron felt a swell of pride as he observed his son''s sharp judgment.


    "Exactly," the baron said. "The cultists have been rebelling for three weeks now. Crowley, situated right next to Count Charles''s territory, must have sought his aid. That he turned a blind eye to this calamity speaks volumes about his intentions. And now, there are no survivors among Crowley Barony''s retainers."


    Michael''s eyes glinted with realization.


    "If there are no survivors from the Crowley family¡­"


    Unlike the newer baronies of the five domains, the Crowley lineage was famed for its ancient heritage and valuable estates. For Count Charles, who had long coveted the Crowley Barony, the cultist rebellion presented an excellent opportunity. It was likely he intended to use the cultists to weaken other nobles and then absorb the barony into his domain.


    "It''s possible that the cultists were acting on Count Charles''s orders," Michael speculated.


    "Surely not," the baron said skeptically. "Could Count Charles be that calculating?"


    Michael smiled knowingly. The one who benefits most from a disaster is often the perpetrator. It was better to remain cautious and guarded than to be blindsided.


    "Perhaps," Michael replied. "But for now, we should focus on fortifying our position. Instead of taking unnecessary risks for glory, it''s wiser to secure gains from the shadows. If this subjugation weakens the other baronies, it will only benefit us."


    Their objective was clear: conserve their strength and seize advantages discreetly. It was a strategy that might draw criticism, but in a world where power decided everything, survival equaled strength. There was no need to risk their lives for Crowley Barony''s wealth or Count Charles''s ambitions.


    "Indeed," the baron agreed. "It''s better to bide our time and emerge victorious in the end."


    They exchanged smiles, finding mutual satisfaction in their cunning plan.


    "I''ll leave the responsibility of commanding this expedition to you," the baron said. "I''ll support you from behind. Sir Ronald is too focused on brute force to be suitable as a commander."


    The baron, who had often worn himself thin managing both command and administration during past expeditions, found this arrangement preferable. With Michael taking the lead, he could now focus on assisting his son. Whether the barony thrived under his rule or Michael''s, it would still be a shared legacy. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Yes," Michael replied. "Training the soldiers on the way should improve their quality, even if only slightly."


    Though he pitied the soldiers who would endure relentless drills during the journey, it was necessary for the barony''s survival. Michael also understood that the baron embodied the archetype of a "modern" knight¡ªpolitically astute but militarily inadequate.


    Here is the translation of the second part of Chapter 11, rewritten in the third-person narrative style:


    The Crassus family''s success rate in war had always been mediocre. Their survival strategy hinged on only charging at knights of comparable rank. By unspoken agreement, knights would bow to one another, assume their stances, and then charge forward with their squires'' assistance. Victory was a relief, while defeat merely required a ransom payment for release. Occasionally, an unlucky knight would be trampled by a horse or skewered by a spear, but the baron had managed to avoid such misfortunes.


    Sir Ronald, however, was a different case. Known for combining intelligence with strength, he had never lost a duel against knights of a higher rank. Half of the indemnities earned during wartime came from his victories.


    Michael, however, intended to put an end to this reckless approach to warfare. It wasn''t that the people of this world were ignorant¡ªit simply wasn''t yet an era of strategy and tactics. Michael knew he couldn''t entirely avoid charges. Refusing a duel between knights would brand him a coward and a disgrace to nobility. Even so, he wouldn''t be the first to rush into battle for glory. To him, the notions of knightly honor and valor were nothing but nonsense.


    Michael''s plan was simple: follow the lead of those in front. If the unfortunate knight ahead won, so would he; if that knight lost, Michael would simply run a bit faster to avoid the same fate. In this subjugation campaign, he had to prioritize his own survival.


    This time, the enemy wasn''t another noble. In battles between nobles, the loser paid a ransom. Against the cultists, what might be demanded was Michael''s head. Having been given a second chance at life, Michael intended to live long and rise in status.

 Chapter 20

    The Crassus family was a minor barony. Alongside the other four baronies, they formed a small cluster of influence, a minuscule faction within the broader kingdom.After considering these thoughts, Michael signaled to the messenger. As the signal flag waved, the 100 soldiers and supply unit began their march. Mage Sergey and healer Hope followed closely behind. The baron and Michael descended from the watchtower and mounted their horses. On the saddle before Michael sat Nyangnyang, his beloved cat. The cat had refused to eat the food prepared by the maids, curling up instead, so Michael had no choice but to bring it along. Fond of the clever and affectionate feline, Michael worried it might starve in his absence. He planned to let the cat roam freely in the camp, which would be safe¡ªafter all, if the camp were breached, no one would survive.


    The journey was grueling. The soldiers endured relentless harassment from their "devil" trainers, who now numbered ten per group. Whenever the formation faltered, a trainer would appear seemingly out of nowhere to kick it back into order. Soldiers struggled to keep their provisions from reappearing on the ground, barely managing under the punishing drills.


    Michael watched with frustration. Though the soldiers had undergone a week of training, they still failed to meet his standards. What had appeared to be a disciplined force at the start of the march devolved over time. Michael realized he had to tighten their discipline before they reached the assembly point.


    Reluctantly, he adjusted the marching pace, mindful of the soldiers carrying their three-day emergency rations and full packs. Beating them into submission alone wouldn''t suffice. Slowing the pace yielded noticeable improvement in their formation. Though far from perfect, they now resembled a marching army rather than a haphazard mob.


    Thanks to their standardized uniforms and packs, they looked more cohesive¡ªthough Michael suspected that before his reforms, they must have resembled a train of peddlers.


    The guards, composed mostly of vassals'' sons, glanced nervously at Michael. Gone were the days when they only needed to worry about their own survival. Having endured ten times the hardship of the soldiers during training, they couldn''t help but tread carefully around Michael.


    By Michael''s standards, the troops were still a ragtag bunch, though better than most other forces. At the very least, they hadn''t pillaged villages along their route like locusts, a common practice among poorly disciplined troops.


    Michael repeatedly emphasized the importance of maintaining formation. Even so, villagers fled in terror at the sight of the approaching soldiers. The extent of past pillaging was evident¡ªlocals treated the soldiers as if they were specters. Villagers knelt and wailed whenever the soldiers stopped to replenish their water supplies. Their emaciated faces and cracked hands tugged at Michael''s conscience.


    During the march, they encountered several wandering warriors¡ªmen seeking to earn recognition in battle and ascend to knighthood. Most were distant relatives of noble families, lacking the aptitude to become knights through training alone. These warriors roamed battlefields, hoping to gain experience and awaken their potential. While few achieved the coveted aura awakening, they still clung to their dreams.


    Through conversations with these warriors, Michael realized something strange. What he considered a tortoise-like march was perceived by the warriors as remarkably fast. Arriving too quickly might leave a strong impression, but it also increased the risk of becoming the first target. Michael further slowed their pace.


    He ensured the troops marched during daylight and rested late into the morning. In the evenings, they hunted for fresh game, preparing hearty meals with warm soups and portions of meat¡ªeven the serf soldiers received some. S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The wandering warriors provided Michael with valuable information. The cultists occupying Crowley Barony worshipped an "outer god"¡ªa terrifying spider goddess said to have the upper body of a beautiful woman and the lower body of a spider. Such a deity would indeed inspire fear.


    In this world, outer gods were universally reviled. They were said to pierce the material plane, luring humans with cursed whispers, bestowing abilities, and claiming them as followers. The mention of the spider goddess reminded Michael of a certain whispering woman, though he found no records matching her description. He didn''t want to dwell on the possibility of her connection to an outer god¡ªit was a daunting thought.


    When outer gods were confirmed to appear, the Radiant Church would dispatch priests and holy knights. With declining numbers of followers due to corruption among their leadership, the church was desperate for victories.


    After ten days, the troops arrived at Kensington Barony, having covered approximately 90 kilometers at a leisurely pace. They were the fourth of the five baronies to arrive¡ªperfect timing.


    As Michael watched the soldiers set up camp, his squire, Antony, the treasurer''s youngest son, approached with a message.


    "Master Michael, an invitation to a banquet from Baron Kensington has arrived. Baron Aramund has just arrived as the last to join us."


    The time had come to play the nobles'' game.


    Jonathan, the second son of a baker from the Crassus Barony, grumbled as he nibbled on his ration of dark bread. Made from a mix of barley and rye, the bread was dry and flavorless. He found himself longing for the meat broth that accompanied their hardtack during the march.


    The bakery in Kensington Barony must have been incompetent¡ªor lacked integrity. The bread even had sand in it, whether from careless milling or deliberate adulteration. Jonathan wondered if the issue lay with the guild overseeing the bakeries or with this particular establishment.


    As he grumbled with his friend Hans, a rough-looking soldier approached. It was Harry, a frequent debtor to Jonathan''s family bakery.


    "Hey, Jonathan, did you hear the news?" Harry asked. "About Crowley Barony? Those cultist bastards have completely taken over."


    Jonathan managed to swallow his unpalatable bread before responding. "Last I heard, they''d overrun two villages. Now they''ve taken the whole barony? Isn''t that dangerous?"


    "Dangerous, sure. But think about it¡ªthe whole barony! There''s plenty to loot," Harry said, his eyes gleaming.

 Chapter 21 Trust Me This Once

    Jonathan''s imagination ran wild. He could already picture himself as a wealthy man, his family flush with gold from the plundered riches of Crowley Barony. This was exactly why he had defied his family''s protests and enlisted as a soldier: not just for the steady wages and three meals a day, but for the chance to earn extra income. One day, he could feast on fine white bread instead of this dark, coarse loaf.The subjugation campaign would be risky, but the greater the risk, the greater the reward. If he distinguished himself, perhaps he could even become a member of the barony''s guards. With more effort, he might be trained in swordsmanship and eventually knighted.


    "Don''t get your hopes too high," said an older soldier nearby. Clearly a veteran of past campaigns, the man added, "This isn''t going to be easy. If you want to earn any glory, you''d better stick close to the seasoned fighters and follow their lead. Nobody''s going to take responsibility for you if you end up dead."


    Harry scoffed. "Old man, maybe it''s too late for you to rise through the ranks, but not for me. I''m going to make it as a guard, just you watch."


    Jonathan and Hans, more cautious by nature, gravitated toward the veteran''s advice. Glory was enticing, but not at the cost of their lives or limbs. They edged away from Harry and sat down beside the older soldier.


    Conversations like this unfolded around campfires throughout the clearing. Soldiers from different baronies mingled in search of information. On this cold night, visible breath puffed into the air, and the fires burned steadily until morning.


    Meanwhile, Michael mounted his horse alongside the baron, preparing to attend a banquet at Kensington Castle. Baron Kensington was known as an eccentric noble.


    "Ah, thank you for coming. You must have had a long journey," Baron Kensington greeted them warmly. Then, his eyes fell on Michael''s horse. "Your son''s horse is magnificent!" S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "You''re too kind, Baron Kensington. But your horse looks equally impressive," the baron replied.


    "Haha, thank you! I recently paid a fortune for this stud. Just look at its mane and tail¡ªthey shimmer with rainbow hues, don''t they? This is the famous breed Rainbow Plus. Under sunlight, the reflection is stunning. Brushing it every morning and evening is such a delight. And its eyes¡ªso mysterious! Let me tell you¡­"


    The more he was complimented, the more animated Baron Kensington became, his speech stretching endlessly. This was his peculiar quirk¡ªhe was an animal and magical beast enthusiast. News of anyone acquiring an unusual creature or forming a pact with a magical beast would drive him to investigate immediately.


    Once a prosperous barony rivaling Crowley in wealth, Kensington''s fortunes had steadily declined due to its lord''s eccentricities. Among northeastern nobles, the phrase "a Kensington-like fool who ruins his household" had become popular. Rumor even held that a section of his castle housed a collection of rare animals.


    As Michael stood by his father, enduring an extended ode to Baron Kensington''s horse, he couldn''t even dismount from his own. Just as Baron Kensington began explaining why his horse''s hooves were exceptional, his eyes caught sight of something unusual.


    "What is that?" he exclaimed.


    His gaze had landed on Nyangnyang, who was perched atop Bucephalus, holding onto the horse''s mane.


    "That¡­ is that a cat?" Baron Kensington asked, incredulous.


    What kind of cat sat upright on a horse, clutching its mane for balance? Receiving a subtle signal from his father to humor the man, Michael explained, "Ah, this is my pet cat. It refuses to eat unless I feed it myself, so I had no choice but to bring it along. It won''t leave my side for a moment. Isn''t it adorable?"


    Baron Kensington stammered, "But... it''s holding onto the mane?"


    "Exactly! That''s what makes it so smart," Michael said with pride. "When I first placed it on the horse, I worried it might fall, but it grabbed the mane and held on tight. Cats are naturally agile, after all."


    Baron Kensington, fascinated yet skeptical, stared at the cat. Could all cats perform such feats? Probably not. His eyes gleamed with avarice.


    "Could you sell me that cat?" he asked.


    Michael''s expression turned serious. Nyangnyang, perhaps sensing the situation, let out an indignant hiss and leapt onto Michael''s shoulder.


    "Absolutely not," Michael replied. "How could you ask such a thing? This cat is family."


    Baron Kensington sighed, disappointed. Though peculiar, he wasn''t known for being cruel or forceful. "Could I at least hold it? You called it Nyangnyang, right? Come here, sweetie," he coaxed.


    Nyangnyang¡ªno, Sphinx Nephertari¡ªlet out another disdainful hiss before turning its head away. Its tail lashed furiously, its whiskers quivering with the indignity of the situation.


    Here is the translation of the second part of Chapter 12, rewritten in the third-person narrative style:


    Michael dismounted his horse, guided by an attendant, wearing an expression of regret as he glanced at Nyangnyang, who completely ignored Baron Kensington''s pleas for attention. The castle, steeped in history, reflected the grandeur befitting a prominent figure in the northeastern territories. Though it had a sparse and worn appearance, likely from the sale of decorative items over time, it still retained its beauty.


    Inside the castle, nobles gathered in small groups, engaging in lively conversation. As Michael and his father entered, all eyes turned toward them. Greetings were exchanged, followed by compliments, politeness, and thinly veiled probing. Many seemed curious about the new heir of the Crassus family.


    "You have such a striking son! A face like an angel and the physique of a knight¡ªhow enviable!" one noble exclaimed.


    Michael found the endless stream of compliments about his appearance awkward. He had never thought much about his looks or build, and the excessive praise left him uneasy. Meanwhile, Baron Kensington trailed after him, still trying to coax Nyangnyang into letting him hold it. His obsession with animals was evident, and it was no surprise that he''d rather focus on creatures than engage in political scheming.

 Chapter 22

    Despite his eccentricities, Baron Kensington''s combat prowess was undeniable. As a sixth-level knight who tamed and rode a seventh-grade magical beast¡ªa griffon¡ªhe was arguably the strongest individual in the room. His blend of strength and peculiar charm made him a notable figure, attracting both admiration and ridicule."Michael, could you lend me that cat, just for a moment?" Baron Kensington pleaded.


    Michael''s interactions with the eccentric baron drew attention from the gathered nobles. Seeing the popular baron''s interest in Michael, many quietly revised their assessment of the young heir upward.


    The nobles attending the banquet were all barons of minor territories or knights overseeing small estates. While their outward demeanor was cordial, each harbored personal ambitions. Some even took the opportunity to promote their daughters to Michael. Uninterested in marriage until he had solidified his position, Michael merely smiled politely.


    After failing to hold Nyangnyang, Baron Kensington shifted his focus back to the attendees. "Everyone, gather around! I have a fantastic proposal to share!" he announced. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The lively banquet hall fell silent as all eyes turned to the baron.


    "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!" he began, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "I recently succeeded in breeding my prized stallion, Rainbow Plus, and the results are extraordinary. Alfred! Bring them in!"


    At his command, a servant led in three foals adorned with ribboned manes and tails. However, the foals'' appearance was¡­ highly unconventional. Their coats looked as though someone had splattered random colors of paint, creating a chaotic and dizzying pattern. Unlike the iridescent beauty of Rainbow Plus, these foals radiated a jarring and unnatural vibrancy, even in the absence of sunlight.


    The nobles recoiled in shock.


    "These foals are the result of painstaking efforts!" Baron Kensington declared. "Aren''t they stunning? Their unique coloration is their charm point. Just look at their glossy coats! I''m offering these magnificent creatures at a bargain price of 10,000 gold each!"


    The nobles avoided eye contact, unwilling to even entertain the offer. The idea of paying 10,000 gold for such peculiar creatures was absurd. Michael shook his head in pity. The baron had completely misjudged his audience. These northern nobles prioritized military strength over luxury and would rather invest in armaments than colorful foals.


    Had these been warhorses instead of ornamental curiosities, the reaction might have been different. Even so, finding someone in this gathering with 10,000 gold to spare was unlikely.


    Baron Kensington, undeterred, lowered his price. "5,000 gold! Surely someone is interested at that price?"


    The nobles suddenly found the ceiling and tapestries extremely fascinating. Some even began counting the figures depicted in the wall hangings.


    Grinding his teeth, Baron Kensington made one last attempt. "3,000 gold! That''s less than the cost of the breeding process!"


    Michael, unable to watch the spectacle any longer, stepped in. "Baron Kensington, we are all knights. We can''t take such brightly colored horses into battle. However, why not try selling them in the capital? Wealthy ladies there would surely be interested in such unique creatures."


    The other nobles quickly chimed in.


    "Exactly! Imagine us rugged men riding those into battle¡ªpeople would think we''ve lost our minds!"


    "Baron Kensington, surely you don''t want to see these beautiful horses carrying the likes of us into the fray?"


    Baron Kensington sighed and admitted defeat. While their reasoning was valid, he still felt these northern brutes lacked an appreciation for beauty. Clapping his hands, he instructed his servants to remove the foals. With no prospect of making a sale, his mood soured.


    "Fine, let''s start the banquet!" he declared.


    As the host''s words signaled a shift in atmosphere, music filled the hall, and servants busily brought out food. The guests formed groups, chatting and indulging in food and drink. Unlike the capital, there were no strict dining etiquettes here¡ªtrue to the northern nobles'' belief that such formalities were for the weak.


    While his father mingled and laughed among the nobles with practiced ease, Michael approached Baron Kensington, who stood alone on a terrace, visibly disheartened.


    "Baron Kensington, are you brooding in solitude?" Michael asked with a faint smile.


    The baron''s face was dark with frustration. He needed gold to fill his empty coffers, but his attempts to sell the foals had failed miserably. Michael, unfazed by the baron''s mood, leaned closer and whispered, "Baron, I know a way for you to earn gold. Trust me this once, will you?"


    The word "gold" worked its magic, instantly calming Baron Kensington''s anger.


    The financial state of the domain had collapsed due to breeding experiments.


    On top of that, with numerous children to marry off, the Baroness''s gaze grew sharper by the day. Just yesterday, the Baron of Kensington had even heard her mutter that perhaps all the animals should be sold off.


    In a more peaceful time, he might have been able to borrow small amounts of money from noble or merchant acquaintances, but with a punitive expedition looming, even that option was out of reach.


    War begins with money and ends with money.


    With fanatics uprising in the neighboring Baron Crowley''s domain, he had no choice but to provide campsites and bake bread for the army, all while gritting his teeth.


    The situation naturally drew Baron Kensington''s attention.


    "Is there really a need for us to be so formal? Just call me Uncle Vincent," the Baron said.


    "Yes, Uncle Vincent," Michael replied without hesitation.


    "Now, Michael, tell me about this plan of yours."


    Michael sipped his wine, glanced around to ensure no one was listening, and spoke in a low voice.


    "There''s a way to extract as much wealth as possible during the punitive expedition. The scale of this rebellion is no small matter. Not only has the wealth of Baron Crowley''s estate been seized, but the assets of merchants and high-ranking officials in the region are likely in the hands of the fanatics. If we eliminate them, all that wealth will become ours."


    Baron Kensington''s mood sank. Wasn''t that obvious?


    "Ah, Michael, you''re still young. No matter how much loot there is, it''ll never reach our hands. Count Charles will take the lion''s share, leaving us with little more than scraps."

 Chapter 23 No Way Out

    Few nobles become rich through war¡ªnot because war lacks value, but because those at the top monopolize the spoils."Uncle Vincent, hear me out. Count Charles must be overwhelmed right now. Kensington lies to the left of Baron Crowley''s domain, while Count Charles''s territory is to the right. From what I''ve seen, no fanatics have been spotted near here, and the villages have suffered no damage except for what the soldiers took for supplies. This suggests the fanatics are heading toward Count Charles''s domain. Their goal is to kill, convert followers, and offer them to their false god. They won''t stop at Crowley''s land; they''ll try to cause as much destruction as possible before the punitive expedition begins."


    Michael continued, "I spoke with nobles coming from Count Charles''s territory. They mentioned capturing and executing some fanatics on their way here, which confirms their direction. If we combine forces with the other barons, including your own, we can form a force of a thousand. Uncle, with your influence, you can unite them. Once we''ve formed an alliance, we delay our march and negotiate with Count Charles. The longer we stall, the better terms he''ll offer because he won''t know when the fanatics might overrun his lands. You, Uncle, would serve as the alliance''s representative. The profits will be substantial, and, of course, my domain should also benefit. What do you think of my proposal?"


    Baron Kensington, though of modest rank and with a reputation for squandering his fortune, was still a legitimate sixth-grade knight. He also possessed a seventh-grade magical beast, a griffon, along with several others of the eighth and ninth grades.


    With his skills, character, and individuality, he wielded considerable influence among the nobles. Although he had never taken the lead before, if he decided to form an alliance, at least the nobles gathered at this banquet would not refuse.


    There were over seventy territories in the northeastern planet, and few could muster a thousand soldiers. Even with half that number, they could conduct an independent expedition.


    If scattered, they would become pawns of larger forces, forced into dangerous tasks. But united, they could stand as a power in their own right.


    This alliance might become a thorn in the side of other factions, but that was irrelevant. Nobles existed in a perpetual cycle of devouring one another.


    Faced with Michael''s proposal, which might seem ruthless, Baron Kensington hesitated.


    "Can we really unite them all? And intentionally delaying¡ªdoesn''t that tarnish our honor as knights?"


    Though well-liked, Baron Kensington lacked a knack for politics or business, as evidenced by his failure to grow his estate despite his abilities, earning him a reputation for bankruptcy.


    "People gather where there is profit," Michael replied. "And Count Charles was the first to abandon his moral obligations. Had he acted sooner, the fanatics wouldn''t have gained this much power, and Baron Crowley''s estate would have been spared. His negligence put his domain at risk."


    Michael smiled, confident in his judgment after extensive inquiries and efforts to build rapport with the nobles. Since they were participating in the expedition, they might as well maximize their gains.


    Baron Kensington made his decision, gathering everyone to explain the plan. His proposal to unite the thirty noble factions and act independently won enthusiastic support.


    Whether the alliance would succeed or hold strong remained uncertain. Conflicts of interest could cause it to crumble like a sandcastle.


    Still, Michael believed it was better than nothing. At least they had the numbers.


    The alliance''s core included five baronies, each contributing 100 soldiers, and Baron Kensington, who brought 100 soldiers and three magical beasts. Additional support came from sub-barons with around 50 soldiers and numerous knightly families with fewer than 20 soldiers.


    The alliance of thirty noble factions amassed 57 knights, 1,000 soldiers, and three magical beasts¡ªa force rivaling a mid-tier viscounty.


    After the banquet, as they returned, Baron Gregory Crassus praised Michael. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "You''ve done well, Michael. How did you come up with such an idea?"


    Michael merely smiled, brushing it off as a shift in perspective. In an era where military accomplishments depended on sheer force, his plan was nothing special.


    Upon returning to the camp, Michael carefully removed the kitten, Miaomiao, from his shoulder and fed it some meat. Watching it munch on the raw meat alongside milk filled him with a sense of satisfaction.


    Nearby, Alex, his squire, tilted his head in confusion.


    "Is it really okay for a kitten to eat raw meat with milk?" he wondered aloud, but Michael dismissed his concerns. "As long as it eats well, that''s all that matters."


    Despite serving such a remarkable and skilled knight, Alex often found himself bewildered by his master''s occasional lack of common sense.


    As Alex wrestled with his thoughts, Michael found himself thinking about his grandfather.


    "I wish I could have brought Grandfather along..." he thought.


    Michael''s grandfather, with his incredible strength and skill that could slice through an enemy''s throat in a single strike, was formidable enough to defeat most knights with ease. But when the old man had waved off Michael''s request for help, claiming he had something to take care of alone and disappearing into the shadows, Michael had no choice but to let him go.


    At dawn the next day, the drums signaling the march resounded through the camp. Soldiers who had gathered in the encampment rose groggily and joined their respective formations. Bright banners fluttered in the breeze, but the sight of soldiers moving about in disarray caught Michael''s attention.


    He sighed inwardly.


    "Our soldiers really are the cream of the crop here," he thought.


    Apart from a few families, there was virtually no sense of discipline among the other forces. After observing the chaos, Michael concluded that his soldiers ranked within the top three of the alliance in terms of skill and organization¡ªeven when he considered his estimate conservative.


    The soldiers of other noble houses wielded crude spears, with many wearing shabby tunics over worn-out clothes. Those fortunate enough to don leather armor or proper equipment appeared to be from wealthier families or the offspring of vassals. Yet even they showed no understanding of proper formation, suggesting they''d never undergone formal drill training.

 Chapter 24

    In such a situation, revealing his troops'' capabilities might make them prime targets for dangerous tasks, so Michael resolved to keep their strength hidden as much as possible.But it wouldn''t be easy.


    As far as he could tell, only the soldiers from Crassus Barony maintained proper formations. The other armies struggled to even gather their troops by estate. If things continued as they were, it seemed more likely the fanatics would defeat the soldiers rather than the other way around.


    Michael realized why these nobles had never formed an alliance before. With troops of this quality, it was no wonder they scattered and sought the protection of larger factions.


    The march was excruciatingly slow¡ªnot just due to intentional delays but because the situation made speed impossible. Comparing them to turtles would be an insult to turtles, which at least have shells to protect themselves when stationary.


    At the edge of Crowley''s domain stood the Bartelberg Fortress, the final bastion against the fanatics and the gathering point for the allied forces.


    Count Charles, who had already established his camp there with his forces, raised his eyebrows in irritation.


    "When will the other nobles arrive?" he asked sharply.


    By his side stood Viscounts Henri and Dumas, who had arrived with him two days prior. Each had brought 500 soldiers, uniting ten local factions to form an army of 1,500 men.


    Count Charles himself commanded the largest contingent, with 1,000 soldiers of his own. Including his extended family''s direct retainers, the number approached 2,000.


    While the court count had not mobilized any troops, he still commanded a personal guard of 20 knights.


    However, Count Charles could not afford to relax. Their enemy consisted of frenzied fanatics and necromancers. Though the necromancers, known as one-man armies, were formidable, the greater threat lay in the fanatics, who were infused with the power of their false god. Suppressing their relentless and reckless assaults would inevitably lead to significant casualties.


    Though Count Charles wished to annihilate the fanatics as quickly as possible, the other nobles disagreed. They insisted on holding their positions until all the nobles from the northeastern planet had arrived. To rush into battle and risk depleting their forces could spell disaster for their houses.


    The fanatic threat had proven stronger than anticipated.


    At the very least, all factions needed to suffer equally to avoid being devoured by wolves.


    "The minor nobles have already left Kensington''s domain," reported a middle-aged knight. "But their pace is so slow it''ll take five more days for them to arrive."


    Count Charles exploded in anger.


    "They must think me a fool! Fifteen days have passed since I issued the conscription order, and this is what I get?"


    His anger stemmed partly from guilt. When Baron Crowley had called for help, Charles had delayed responding in pursuit of his own interests, allowing the situation to spiral out of control. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The court count, Woodrock, could see through Charles''s actions, as could Michael.


    Determined to salvage his dignity as one of the great nobles of the northeastern planet, Count Charles decided to act more aggressively. He could not openly admit to negligence and tarnish his reputation.


    "Your Grace, now isn''t the time to assign blame," said a knight. "We must focus our efforts. Though Bartelberg Fortress is sturdy, the fanatics'' momentum is unnerving."


    Indeed, the fanatics would not respect noble rules of engagement. Knights and nobles were as vulnerable as ordinary soldiers in this conflict. Charles had underestimated the threat, and now he had to take responsibility for the chaos he''d allowed to unfold.


    No amount of ranting or raving would justify his actions. To make amends, Charles mobilized every available force. The fallout from this crisis was too great to allow it to spread further.


    Judging by Woodrock''s piercing gaze, news of the situation had likely reached the king. If the king discovered Charles''s failings, Crowley''s domain might fall under Woodrock''s control, shifting the balance of power in the northeastern planet.


    With his back against the wall, Count Charles had no choice but to act decisively.


    "Send messengers," he ordered, gritting his teeth. "Inform the nobles that any who arrive promptly will receive a share of Crowley''s land and assets, distributed according to their contributions. We''ll determine the exact proportions after their arrival, but urge them to hurry!"


    Count Charles didn''t yet realize this decision would lead to his regret. It was the second grave mistake of his campaign.


    The flat terrain gradually gave way to mountain paths. As the tense atmosphere faded with the slow march, the mood of the soldiers became increasingly relaxed, as if they were on a leisurely outing.


    Michael observed his troops with a critical eye.


    Even if all the soldiers in the world behaved this way, his own soldiers could not. The disciplined mindset of an Air Force officer occasionally surfaced in him.


    While maintaining order among his troops, Michael kept his ears open to the rumors spreading around the camp.


    By avoiding Baron Crowley''s occupied domain and moving into the mountain range, more minor nobles joined their ranks, bringing with them additional information. Where people gathered, tongues inevitably wagged.


    To ease their guilt over the slow march, the nobles blamed Count Charles and mourned Baron Crowley''s house. Of course, their criticism was empty, and their grief crocodilian. None of them would dare challenge a great noble for the sake of a house that no longer existed.


    Passive sabotage became even more blatant.


    The fanatics had grown stronger? That was Count Charles''s negligence, they reasoned. He should handle the consequences himself. Since the fanatics were reportedly heading toward his domain, it was someone else''s problem.


    While Count Charles''s forces focused on suppressing the rebellion, they could linger, gaining influence and collecting wealth along the way. They already had excuses prepared for the lack of progress: "What could we possibly do against these fanatics running amok? We, minor nobles, are too weak to handle them."

 Chapter 25 We Go Left

    As always, the truth was irrelevant.By the time they reached the mountainside and darkness descended over the forest, the troops began to set up camp.


    The soldiers from Crassus Barony swiftly constructed their campsite using field shovels issued as part of their supplies. These versatile tools, carried alongside their packs, could dig trenches in peacetime and deliver a decisive blow in emergencies. Created under Michael''s direction by every blacksmith in the castle, the shovels proved their worth. When heated over a fire, they could even be used to cook meat or pancakes.


    After feasting on roasted meat brought back by knights and guards, accompanied by warm tea, the soldiers retired to their tents. With blankets spread beneath them and thick cloaks covering their bodies, the cold night became bearable.


    The next morning, as Michael conducted roll call, he was startled.


    He had brought exactly 100 soldiers, yet the count¡ªperformed by squires since few soldiers could count beyond 50¡ªcame to 116.


    What in the world was going on?


    The soldiers responsible for guarding the supplies and important figures were accounted for separately, so the number of soldiers should have been an even 100. They hadn''t split like amoebas overnight.


    After individually identifying the unfamiliar faces among the troops, Michael discovered the reason for the discrepancy.


    "Where are you from? Whose domain do you serve?" he asked one of the strangers.


    "I''m from a village with a huge oak tree," the man replied. "Don''t know the name of the lord. Never met him."


    Sixteen such individuals had joined their ranks¡ªpeasants who didn''t even know which domain they belonged to, let alone the name of their lord.


    Perhaps feeding the troops had been a mistake. Soldiers from other domains, drawn by the smell of roasted meat, had wandered over and failed to return to their camps.


    "Sir Michael, could they be spies sent by the fanatics or Count Charles?" Alex, his squire, asked cautiously.


    Michael chuckled.


    "Spies? These fools? If they were actual spies, they would have killed a soldier and infiltrated discreetly. No one would employ such obvious fools as spies."


    Had this been an era of espionage, Michael might have suspected a highly skilled infiltrator. But this was not such an age, and there was no significant gain to be had by infiltrating his camp. This was simply the result of poorly disciplined soldiers from other domains making foolish mistakes.


    Someone might come looking for their missing soldiers eventually, but time passed, and no noble came forward to reclaim them. Whether due to desertions from other domains or the complete absence of roll calls elsewhere, it remained a mystery.


    Here, Michael''s modern perspective came to light.


    Among all the participating domains, only Crassus Barony had not lost a single soldier during the march. Other domains had long been losing troops to sickness, malnutrition, or desertion, often dismissing their disappearance as unfortunate but inevitable. The disregard for human life was part of the culture.


    Unaware of this broader context, Michael happily took in the stragglers. There was no need to make a fuss about returning them to their owners when no one came to claim them. In this world, the finder was the keeper.


    This might not have been noble or knightly behavior by the standards of the time, but Michael had experienced a different world. His actions were not driven by greed but by a humanitarian impulse: these underfed individuals needed to be nourished before they could return to their original domains.


    Distributing the surplus troops among his ten-man units, Michael was interrupted by the sight of a messenger riding toward him in haste, bearing Count Charles''s banner.


    "Orders from the Count!" the messenger announced. "The illustrious Count Charles has declared that any noble and their forces who arrive at Bartelberg Fortress within two days shall receive a share of all the land and wealth of Crowley''s domain, divided according to their contributions! The exact distribution will be determined in a meeting upon arrival, so make haste to obey!" sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The situation had shifted.


    News of tangible rewards brought smiles to the faces of the nobles. What had been a duty-bound conscription now promised material compensation.


    Crowley''s domain contained not only the wealth of the barony but also the lands and assets of its knights, minor nobles, and merchants¡ªdozens of holdings in total.


    Moreover, Crowley Barony, renowned for its fertile lands despite being located in the harsh northern region, boasted some of the wealthiest villages in the area.


    With the heads of the Crowley family already severed and the estate open for claiming, whoever arrived first would be the owner.


    Even nobles who had just been lamenting the tragedy of Crowley''s fall now licked their lips and gleamed with avarice. Count Charles, once the target of their scorn, suddenly became a figure of admiration.


    The reputations of Baron Kensington and Michael, who had first proposed the plan, soared.


    What had seemed an uncertain gamble had come to fruition.


    Count Charles, notorious for his cunning, might have reneged on a private promise, but a public declaration was a different matter. No noble would break a vow made in the name of their house, lest they be condemned and exiled from noble society.


    Michael grew uneasy at Count Charles''s sudden decisiveness. Such acts of generosity were often a cause for suspicion.


    However, he couldn''t dampen the enthusiasm of the nobles, who seemed ready to dash to the fortress at any moment. To do so would risk undoing the goodwill he had painstakingly cultivated.


    Still, there was cause for concern. The fanatics'' strength appeared greater than anticipated. If they were as weak as some believed, would Count Charles have surrendered so quickly?


    One of the ten most powerful nobles in the kingdom would not be so easily swayed. His resources and intelligence far surpassed those of the allied minor nobles.


    Had Count Charles perhaps found an heir to the Crowley family? If so, by supporting that heir to inherit the lands and titles, the alliance could find itself outmaneuvered, reduced to dogs chasing after a cart.


    But Michael shook his head. No, that was unlikely. Having lost their domain to the fanatics, the Crowley family would have no legitimate claim to it. Nobles were obligated to defend their lands, and a domain without an heir reverted to the kingdom.

 Chapter 26

    The most plausible explanation was that Count Charles intended to use the allied nobles as cannon fodder in a decisive battle against the fanatics.As the murmurs among the nobles grew louder, Baron Kensington stepped in to restore order. Excitement before the battle was counterproductive.


    Some nobles were already discussing how to divide the nonexistent spoils and redistribute wealth from the Crowley lands, as if the fanatics were already defeated. The alliance had turned into a raucous afternoon marketplace.


    Michael approached Baron Kensington quietly, preferring not to speak up himself lest he draw the ire of the frenzied nobles.


    "Enough! Stop this nonsense," Baron Kensington bellowed. "Arguing over spoils we don''t even have yet is pointless. Count Charles''s orders are clear: we must reach the fortress within two days. If we fail to do so, there will be no rewards. Let us move now to make the deadline instead of wasting time here."


    His words, like cold water dousing a fire, calmed the nobles. They weren''t fools; their excitement over Count Charles''s unprecedented proclamation had simply clouded their judgment.


    Exchanging knowing glances, the nobles returned to their camps, eager to set off ahead of the others. Every step gained on their rivals would mean greater influence in the division of spoils.


    Watching the nobles scurry about, Michael returned to his camp at a leisurely pace. There was no point in rushing. They were bound together as an alliance, and reaching the fortress a step earlier would change nothing. Most of the nobles would likely not even be admitted to the negotiations.


    Having secured an agreement with Baron Kensington, Michael moved with deliberate calm. The road to Bartelberg Fortress was rugged due to the mountain range, but it wasn''t particularly far. As long as they maintained a steady pace, they would arrive on time.


    The allied minor nobles marched with an air of grandeur. Though their formations lacked discipline, the sight of over a thousand people traveling together along the same path was undeniably impressive.


    Hans and Jonathan, soldiers from Crassus Barony, surveyed the scene around them, feeling a surge of pride.


    "There''s no other domain like ours," Hans remarked.


    While soldiers from other domains trudged along in small, disorganized groups, often carrying little more than a bundle of belongings, the soldiers from Crassus Barony marched in neat, orderly formations. Their matching uniforms and packs made them stand out, drawing admiration from onlookers.


    Their pride swelled to its peak. This, they believed, was all thanks to Michael.


    By the next day, the watchtower of Bartelberg Fortress came into view. As they neared the fortress, the nobles at the front of the march gathered together, tension building.


    The further they descended from the mountains, the more frequent the fanatics'' sporadic ambushes became. These fanatics, devoid of chivalry or morality, were truly despicable beings. But then again, that was to be expected of fanatics.


    Adopting a cautious strategy, Michael had positioned his forces in the middle of the procession, ensuring he lost no soldiers. In contrast, nobles at the edges of the march had already suffered significant losses.


    In the distance, the gates of the fortress came into view. The reason for Count Charles''s urgency became clear¡ªthe fortress was under attack.


    The fanatics, startled by the sudden arrival of the allied minor nobles, halted their assault and let out incoherent screams before charging toward them. Their ferocity was unsettling.


    Though still some distance away, it was only a matter of time before the two forces clashed.


    "Knights! There is no retreat in our vocabulary. Follow me!" Baron Kensington shouted as he spurred his horse forward.


    Other nobles and lords quickly followed, galloping ahead in an impromptu charge.


    Michael was taken aback.


    "Why? Why aren''t they advancing with their soldiers?" he wondered.


    Sensing his hesitation, his father, Baron Crassus, spoke in a gentle but urging tone.


    "Come now, Michael. I understand you''re nervous for your first battle, but we must join them quickly."


    As a trained officer, Michael couldn''t agree. While he wasn''t against charging, such reckless advances were not his style.


    He turned to his father.


    "Father, these aren''t knights we''re fighting. Charging in like this could lead to disaster. I''m not saying we shouldn''t charge, but we need to wait for the right moment."


    Baron Crassus hesitated but decided to trust his son''s judgment. Michael had proven his worth in the past, and there was no reason to doubt him now.


    Meanwhile, Michael climbed to the highest vantage point he could find, scanning the battlefield. His gaze met that of Sir Ronald, who seemed eager to join the fray.


    "Sir Ronald, lead the soldiers and follow me. We''re going to flank from the left," Michael commanded.


    At that moment, Baron Kensington was leading a direct charge into the fanatics'' front lines. His massive greatsword cleaved through six fanatics in one swing. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The knights following him, though less skilled, fought valiantly. But a frontal assault carried immense risk.


    One knight was pulled from his horse and brutally butchered. It was clear the fanatics had no intention of sparing captives or bargaining for ransom.


    Michael drew his bow. It was time to aim for the enemy commander.


    Before setting out for the expedition, Michael visited Greg, the village''s most skilled blacksmith, and assigned him a special task: crafting a steel bow.


    The longbow Michael had received from his uncle, made of yew wood, had broken after only a few hunts. Whether it was due to Michael''s extraordinary strength or the bow''s age, it hadn''t lasted long.


    Hearing Michael''s request, Greg stroked his beard and his eyes lit up with excitement.


    "Haha, to undertake such a challenge at my age¡ªit''s intriguing! Could you check if there''s any magic steel in the castle''s storage? It''s far more flexible and durable than regular steel. If you channel your aura into it, it would be perfect. My family has passed down a technique for tempering magic steel, and I''d love to try it for this occasion."


    Eagerly, Michael had the steward open the estate''s armory, where they found a stash of magic steel stored carefully in a corner. That rare resource became the foundation for Michael''s steel bow.

 Chapter 27 They Must Die

    The completed bow was shorter than a standard bow, designed specifically for ease of use on horseback. It was a powerful bow that required five men to draw its string. Even Sir Ronald, known for his great strength, could barely pull it, let alone fire an arrow.Only Michael, with his innate physical prowess and the "archery skill" he had honed, could wield the steel bow effectively.


    The arrows he shot flew with unerring precision and so much force that they were unaffected by the wind. However, the strength of the bow posed a new problem¡ªthe arrows themselves couldn''t withstand the power. Even at greater distances, arrows would often crumple on impact.


    The steel bow''s power far surpassed that of a wooden bow. The string, too, was an issue. The combined strength of Michael and the bow snapped every string he tried.


    In the end, they used the hair from the tail of a Pegasus, an heirloom passed down in Michael''s family for five generations. The steward, tearfully handing over the precious material, felt his heart break each time a strand snapped under the strain.


    For the arrows, there was no perfect solution. They resorted to using the sturdiest wood available, tipped with heavy iron heads.


    Holding his steel bow, the product of such arduous preparation, Michael fixed his gaze on the battlefield ahead.


    Shifting his unit to the left flank had been worth it; the position made it easier to aim. Using his improved vision and keen "archery skill," he spotted the enemy commander.


    The man, covered in strange red patterns as if painted with blood, was grotesque to behold. In the cold winter air, steam rose from his bare body, and his lips moved ceaselessly in what seemed like an incantation, accompanied by bizarre movements.


    "A mad sorcerer," Michael muttered to himself. S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The commander had no helmet, as though he was utterly careless or overconfident due to the distance.


    "Looks like you''re begging to die. Wish granted."


    Michael released the arrow, which flew with blistering speed.


    The enemy commander died instantly, his head struck clean through. As blood spurted like a fountain from the corpse, Michael turned his focus to the next target.


    More figures with similarly grotesque appearances caught his eye.


    "Lord, sending another one to you," Michael quipped, as his next arrow smashed through a fanatic''s skull like a watermelon.


    Perhaps he had used too much force.


    Smiling faintly, Michael nudged his horse, Bucephalus, into motion. The Pamir mountain steed responded with fluid agility, allowing Michael to maintain his position in the blind spots of the enemy forces while continuing his deadly archery.


    Five or six commanders fell in rapid succession, their skulls shattered before they even realized what was happening.


    Then Michael noticed something strange.


    As the grotesque commanders fell, fanatics began collapsing en masse. The wild-eyed attackers, who had been screaming in fury, now crumpled into withered corpses, their vitality seemingly drained away.


    "So that''s why they were so crazed. Must''ve been under some berserk spell," Michael thought.


    The front lines opened up.


    "This is the chance!" Michael shouted. "Sir Ronald! Father! Now is the time to storm the fortress. Rally the soldiers!"


    Sir Ronald, who had been stunned by Michael''s skill with the bow, quickly gathered the soldiers, with Michael''s father following close behind.


    The remaining fanatics, disorganized and weakened, were no match for Ronald''s swordsmanship. Wielding a massive greatsword in one hand, he cut down the enemy with an ease that reminded onlookers of the legendary warrior Zhang Fei.


    From a safe distance, Michael continued firing arrow after arrow, eliminating threats whenever his allies were in danger. In no time, dozens of fanatics fell to his relentless assault.


    Baron Crassus took advantage of the chaos to behead several more enemies.


    Baron Kensington, meanwhile, realized with a sinking heart that his comrades were falling one by one.


    These fanatics were beyond reason. Their bloodshot eyes and disregard for life made them terrifying opponents.


    By now, some should have hesitated or retreated in fear, but they all pressed forward with unrelenting fervor.


    Then Baron Kensington noticed the scattered commanders among the fanatics¡ªbare, bloodied figures chanting incomprehensible spells and gesturing wildly. Each cry from them seemed to further intensify the fanatics'' assault.


    "Kill them! Those naked ones! Take them out!" he shouted.


    But it was easier said than done.


    The knights with bows attempted to shoot the commanders, but their aim was poor, and the targets were too far away. As the casualties mounted, Baron Kensington grew increasingly anxious.


    He was no fool. The more nobles and knights fell, the weaker the alliance''s collective strength would become.


    Unintentionally, he had moved too far from his soldiers, leaving himself vulnerable to being surrounded by fanatics.


    Frustrated, he turned his gaze toward the fortress.


    "Damn that Count! Reinforcements are here, and he''s still not deploying his troops. How can this be?"


    Grinding his teeth in anger, Baron Kensington regretted holding back his gryphon and magical beasts.


    "Everyone, pull back and regroup! The fortress troops will come to our aid soon," he ordered.


    Inside the fortress, Count Charles clicked his tongue as he watched the minor nobles struggle.


    "I had hoped to weaken these irritating small fry using the fanatics, but they''re already retreating. Useless fools," he muttered.


    Still, he couldn''t let things go too far. Breaking the unwritten rules of noble warfare would tarnish his reputation.


    Now that the survivors had been sufficiently humbled, it was time to save them and be hailed as a hero.


    As he watched, he noticed a group of soldiers nearing the fortress gates.


    "Ah, Crassus Barony. Impressive," he mused.


    Mounting his fourth-grade magical beast, a chimera passed down through his family, Count Charles prepared to make a grand charge, leading his knights to secure victory.


    A fanatic''s neck snapped with a sickening crack as the chimera''s snake head coiled around it.


    The sight of over a hundred knights charging on horseback was awe-inspiring. The ground trembled under the thunderous sound of hooves.


    Baron Kensington and the other struggling minor nobles didn''t remain idle. Once Count Charles''s knights joined forces with them, a path was cleared in no time.


    The chimera''s combat power was overwhelming. Its lion head spewed fire, the goat head exhaled black mist, and the snake head extended to snap the necks of the fanatics.

 Chapter 28

    Once Michael safely entered the fortress, he looked around. It seemed his unit was the first of the alliance to make it inside.Considering he had eliminated five or six enemy commanders, his contributions were significant.


    While resting after dismounting, he watched as other allied nobles trickled into the fortress one by one. They all looked shaken and defeated.


    Meanwhile, Count Charles, after dismounting from the chimera and inspecting the face of a slain enemy commander, wore a grim expression.


    "From a distance, I couldn''t tell, but... this is..."


    The strange blood-red patterns painted on the commander''s face, the naked priests, the incomprehensible chants¡ªthese sights stirred troubling memories of his family''s ancient lore.


    The Count''s eyes widened in shock as realization dawned.


    "How can this be? Bloodseal¡ªwasn''t it sealed a thousand years ago by the Holy Radiant Kingdom? How could it fall into the hands of the fanatics?"


    Finally understanding why the fanatics had grown so powerful, Count Charles felt his mind spiral.


    The Crowley Barony, despite its wealth and resources, had fallen without putting up a proper fight. Now he understood why.


    He regretted not responding to the initial distress call immediately. It wasn''t the first time he had felt this remorse.


    Bloodseal!


    The cursed artifact from 1,500 years ago.


    Even someone with no knowledge of magic or curses could use the Bloodseal to carve runes onto their face and transform a thousand docile serfs into fanatics.


    It required a thousand lives to inscribe a single rune, but once the process began, the cult could expand its forces exponentially.


    Ordinary humans couldn''t match knights in strength, but when enough ants swarmed, even an elephant could fall.


    The fanatics they faced now had likely been commoners or serfs, living normal lives before suddenly becoming zealots of an otherworldly deity.


    Count Charles recalled his family''s lore.


    Fifteen hundred years ago, the Kingdom of Orland had been destroyed by the Bloodseal, an abominable artifact created by the bastard son of a king, who had borrowed the power of an otherworldly god.


    Every time the Bloodseal resurfaced throughout history, it left devastation in its wake.


    Eventually, the Holy Radiant Kingdom led a continent-wide coalition to suppress the cult and banish the artifact from memory. Over time, its name became one that people feared to even speak.


    Only as a great noble, with access to his family''s traditions, did Count Charles know of its existence.


    The Bloodseal had to be secured immediately.


    If left unchecked, even his own soldiers might fall under its influence. To resist its effects, he and his men would need to seek blessings from the priests of the Holy Radiant Church¡ªblessings that had to be renewed monthly.


    The thought of the church''s demands and the costs involved made his head ache.


    He recalled the message sent by the wyvern riders, informing him that a paladin and priests from the Holy Radiant Kingdom were on their way.


    "It makes sense now. That cursed kingdom must have known the Bloodseal was stolen and are coming to retrieve it¡ªprobably to profit from the situation while they''re at it."


    The image of the self-satisfied messenger who had delivered the news made Count Charles grind his teeth in frustration.


    Still, he had no choice. He could only hope the paladin and priests would arrive soon.


    But how much damage would occur before then? The cost of the war effort alone was staggering. Even as the most powerful noble in the northeastern planet, his resources were being stretched thin.


    There would also be criticism for his delay in suppressing the cult. If things went poorly, he might even lose his title.


    Perhaps they should strike the cult''s base before the Holy Radiant Kingdom arrived. But finding such a well-hidden enemy seemed an impossible task, leaving Count Charles feeling helpless. S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As he stood in despair, a banner fluttering on the fortress walls caught his attention. The urgent sound of a war horn followed.


    "Damn it!"


    Count Charles suddenly realized the situation and hastily mounted his chimera.


    Among the enemy forces was a necromancer.


    The shriveled corpses lying on the battlefield could rise at any moment to attack.


    Leaving the bodies of the fallen knights and soldiers behind, Count Charles fled in haste.


    Meanwhile, Michael was inspecting his troops.


    Despite their training, casualties were unavoidable. Several familiar faces were missing.


    The final tally was nine dead, ten severely injured, and twenty-one lightly wounded. Fortunately, there were no missing soldiers¡ªalive or dead, every comrade had been accounted for.


    The severely wounded were entrusted to Hope for healing, regardless of whether they were regular soldiers or conscripted serfs. Within two days, they would likely recover enough to move on their own.


    The lightly wounded received assistance from supply medics.


    The basic medical training taught by Michael''s uncle Henry and Carla had proven effective. Without the time to recruit and train dedicated medics, this temporary measure had worked well.


    Overall, the state of the Crassus troops was excellent compared to the allied minor nobles.


    The losses among the allied forces were severe.


    Some lost nearly all their soldiers, while others had their knights or even family heads killed.


    The minor noble alliance gathered in Baron Kensington''s tent.


    Their once-shining armor was now stained with blood, and their eyes glinted with hostility.


    Michael feigned a somber expression. Had he joined their charge, the Crassus troops would have suffered similarly heavy losses.


    In reality, he felt relief¡ªhis troops had the fewest casualties, yet his contributions to the battle were among the greatest. Internally, he celebrated but kept his outward demeanor in tune with the somber atmosphere.


    "Everyone has worked hard," Baron Kensington began in a grim tone.


    As the alliance''s leader, he felt the burden of their losses.


    His own losses were substantial. Though his gryphon and other magical beasts remained untouched, he had lost half of his 100 soldiers. Even one of the knights he had taken as a son-in-law had been gravely injured.


    Knights who had awakened their aura were difficult to heal, and it would take at least five days before the knight could even stand.


    With such losses, it was critical to secure substantial rewards. Properly managing the aftermath was essential for preserving the alliance. Without careful handling, it could fall apart.


    "Now that everyone is here, let''s head to Count Charles''s tent. We must voice our grievances and claim what is rightfully ours!" Kensington declared.


    These matters needed to be resolved early. Waiting until after the punitive expedition ended would reduce everything to empty talk.


    The nobles in the tent, including Michael, nodded in agreement and shouted in unison:


    "Let''s confront Count Charles and claim our rights!"


    "Indeed! We deserve fair compensation!"


    Fueled by righteous indignation, the group marched toward Count Charles''s tent.

 Chapter 29 Ensure the Profits!

    Count Charles greeted the minor nobles storming into his tent with a smile, though inwardly he grumbled, comparing them to summer gnats."Come in, come in. Thank you all for coming," he said.


    The unexpected hospitality caught the nobles off guard, their expressions stiffening. Despite repeated invitations, none of them sat down. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As the representative of the alliance, Baron Kensington stepped forward.


    "Your Grace, forgive us, but we are still in our armor. Let us speak standing."


    Count Charles nodded awkwardly, though his face showed no sign of actual regret.


    The nobles didn''t mind. As seasoned players of political games, they would have been suspicious if Count Charles had seemed genuinely apologetic.


    Their unity was for one purpose: profit. Any pretense of seeking justice for the fallen was merely an excuse.


    Clearing his throat, Count Charles began to speak.


    "Very well, as you wish. Some of you may already have guessed, but the recent fanatic uprising is tied to the Bloodseal. We''ve found proof."


    Baron Kensington couldn''t suppress a gasp.


    "That''s impossible! Who could have broken the Holy Radiant Kingdom''s seal and brought out that cursed artifact?"


    "I didn''t want to believe it either, but it''s true. It''s the same object that plunged the continent into chaos 1,500 years ago."


    Both Count Charles and Baron Kensington came from ancient noble lineages.


    Baron Kensington was a descendant of a prolific count''s family whose traditions and knowledge far exceeded those of lesser nobles. His ancestors had participated in the war to seal the Bloodseal, losing over twenty direct descendants in the process. Had his ancestor not had so many children, the family line would have been extinguished like many others.


    Michael, observing the conversation, felt out of place. Though he didn''t fully understand the significance of the Bloodseal, the tense atmosphere indicated it was a grave matter. Seeing that others looked equally bewildered, he found some comfort in not being the only one.


    He waited for Count Charles to elaborate.


    "The Bloodseal is a cursed artifact of an otherworldly deity, taking the form of a brush. By sacrificing a thousand lives and using their blood, it carves runes that turn a thousand people into fanatics. It has reappeared after being sealed away in the Holy Radiant Kingdom, and we must act swiftly. Fortunately, we''ve already killed several commanders bearing its runes. We must continue targeting their leaders."


    Michael raised a question.


    "Will our soldiers be affected? Has the Holy Radiant Kingdom sent aid? Their failure to properly secure the seal has caused us to suffer these losses."


    "You''re correct," Count Charles replied. "The Holy Radiant Kingdom sent word via wyvern rider that reinforcements are on their way. They should arrive within a few days. As for the soldiers, all stationed here will receive blessings from the Holy Radiant priests in my domain. Once baptized, they will be safe for a month, though the process will need to be repeated monthly."


    Michael pondered the situation.


    The rebellion within the kingdom, coupled with the involvement of the Holy Radiant Kingdom, made the matter far from simple. The Bloodseal''s exposure necessitated drastic measures, but something felt off.


    He sensed deeper machinations at play.


    For now, however, the immediate crisis took precedence. Failing to suppress the uprising would endanger not only Count Charles''s domain but the entire northeastern planet. If it fell, the Kingdom of Rania, where Michael''s territory was located, would also face peril.


    The nobles began murmuring among themselves.


    "In that case, wouldn''t it be better to stay fortified in the fortress until the Holy Radiant Kingdom arrives? Engaging in more battles will only lead to further casualties," one noble suggested.


    His words drew glares from the others, silencing him. Such sentiments were unacceptable for knights and nobles.


    As a modern thinker, Michael privately agreed, but he knew better than to voice such thoughts. In a world where single-minded traditions ruled, pragmatic ideas were often dismissed.


    Besides, staying in the fortress might give the fanatics more time to bolster their forces.


    Baron Crassus, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. His seasoned wisdom cut to the heart of the matter.


    "Let''s not lose sight of our purpose here. The Bloodseal has already surfaced, so there''s no point debating its existence. If we see the enemy, we strike them down. We''ve already killed several of their commanders, proving they''re not invincible. For now, we must focus on what needs to be done. Count Charles, how do you intend to take responsibility for this situation? Your delay in acting has caused us great losses."


    His pointed remark brought the group to their senses.


    Yes, the damage was already done. It was time to secure compensation.


    "Baron Crassus, your greed is excessive. This isn''t the time to focus on personal gains," Count Charles retorted.


    But his call for unity was met with sharp stares.


    The nobles knew Count Charles had initially delayed his response for selfish reasons, so his argument held little weight.


    Seizing the momentum, Baron Kensington added his voice.


    "The situation seems dire, but it may not be as catastrophic as it appears. While the Bloodseal was once a powerful artifact, 1,500 years of the Great God of Light''s blessings must have diminished its strength. If its power were at its peak, the fanatics would have spread beyond Crowley''s domain by now. If we act quickly to disrupt the Bloodseal''s influence, we can resolve this ourselves."


    Murmurs of agreement arose from all sides.


    Count Charles, now unable to oppose the consensus, reluctantly spoke.


    "Very well... though this isn''t the time for such discussions..."


    His brazen attempt to deflect responsibility drew glares, prompting him to clear his throat and avert his eyes.


    Sensing the tense mood, he sought to buy time.


    "It''s late. Let''s take a break for dinner and reconvene afterward."


    As the Korean proverb says, "Too many cooks spoil the broth," and the same held true in the Rubel Continent.


    While dining in Baron Kensington''s tent, dozens of nobles vied to boast of their contributions and claim rewards. At this rate, it might take a month to reach any conclusions.

 Chapter 30

    "Enough!" someone finally exclaimed. "If we delay any longer, the reinforcements from the Holy Radiant Kingdom will arrive, and our share will diminish. We must decide before then."The noisy nobles fell silent. The logic was undeniable.


    "What should we do, then?" one asked.


    Baron Crassus stepped in with an answer.


    "Let''s first establish the distribution ratios. Once we secure what we''re owed, we can reassess contributions after the campaign ends. Then we''ll have time for proper discussions. What do you think?"


    No one objected.


    Having gained unanimous agreement, Baron Crassus exchanged a knowing glance with Michael. As expected, the plan was proceeding smoothly.


    "Then let''s appoint five representatives to negotiate with Count Charles and finalize the distribution ratios," Baron Crassus declared.


    From this point, the representatives would be chosen based on their influence and abilities.


    The five representatives were chosen based on the remaining strength of their forces, and naturally, Baron Crassus was among them. Clearing his throat, he offered a suggestion.


    "Count Charles is a cunning man, capable of anything. Why not bring a squire with each of us?"


    Being accustomed to having attendants, the other representatives agreed. For Baron Crassus, the "squire" he brought along was, unsurprisingly, Michael.


    The idea of bringing a knight as a squire was absurd, but no one objected. Meanwhile, the other representatives began quietly looking for clever and perceptive aides to bring with them.


    "Good luck to us all," someone remarked. "We must elevate the banner of our alliance."


    Now that they had survived the battle, rewards were inevitable. Even if some of them perished, their heirs would inherit the glory. With Count Charles''s missteps so evident, they were confident they could extract significant concessions.


    After dinner, Michael and Baron Crassus endured waves of flattery from other nobles.


    Exaggerating only slightly, Michael estimated that a third of the nobles present had some familial connection to the Crassus family. Now, these connections swarmed them, seeking favors or scraps of advantage.


    It wasn''t necessarily a bad thing. As long as their own interests weren''t compromised, having mutual support from allies could be beneficial¡ªnot only in negotiating the spoils but also for future campaigns. The tight-knit noble society might be treacherous at times, but outright betrayal was rare.


    As Michael left Baron Kensington''s tent, he noticed smoke rising beyond the fortress.


    It was from the cremation of corpses to prevent their use by necromancers.


    "What a waste!" Michael thought, an idea striking him.


    He quickly returned to his camp and summoned his squires, along with the serf-soldiers and "lost" soldiers from other domains. Handing them each a sack, he led them out of the fortress. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Fortunately, many of the corpses had only been partially burned. Michael urged his men to strip the bodies of usable clothes and gather their weapons.


    Most of the bodies were those of soldiers, so the haul wasn''t particularly valuable. But for the poorly equipped serf-soldiers and "lost" troops, the salvaged items were a godsend.


    While the regular troops of Crassus Barony had standard uniforms and supplies, the serf-soldiers had little more than rags. The retrieved leather armor, sturdy clothing, weapons, and other items were a windfall for them.


    The men eagerly filled their sacks, showing no guilt. These were ownerless goods that would have been incinerated. If not for Michael''s quick thinking, they would have missed this unearned fortune.


    Recycling was a necessity in times of scarcity.


    Inspired by Michael''s example, other nobles cautiously followed suit, sending their own men to scavenge from the cremation piles. By the time Michael returned to the fortress, however, he had already claimed the best items.


    The haul included armor and weapons, though most bore the insignias of other houses. While they couldn''t be used as-is, they could be reworked in the forge back home.


    Equipping the serf-soldiers with proper gear was another victory. Even a few horse carcasses had been salvaged, which would provide much-needed meat for the soldiers'' meals.


    Back at camp, the men eagerly poured out their loot, each looking for gear that fit them. Weapons went to whoever claimed them first, while clothing was swapped among the men until everyone was outfitted.


    Some lucky soldiers now boasted leather armor and steel weapons, cutting impressive figures.


    Fights broke out over the best items, with the strongest soldiers inevitably claiming the most valuable gear. Michael didn''t intervene¡ªbetter that the strongest were the best armed. Giving premium equipment to weaklings would only serve the enemy.


    Leaving his men to their merriment, Michael reflected on the day''s battle.


    It had been his first combat experience, and despite the challenges, he had achieved significant results. He was confident of securing a large share of the spoils.


    Now, his focus was on achieving even greater feats¡ªa goal he believed was well within his reach.


    Meanwhile, Count Charles was nearly at his wits'' end.


    The onslaught of nobles, whom he likened to a swarm of gnats, left him wanting to cry.


    His losses were staggering. Three of his knights had been killed, falling from their horses and being torn apart by fanatics.


    Despite this, his achievements were meager¡ªonly one enemy commander slain.


    The nobles'' earlier reactions made it clear they deeply resented him. Even the court count had scolded him for his delayed response to the reinforcements.


    "How could I have known things would turn out like this?" Count Charles thought, frustrated.


    Mistakes had piled up, growing into an uncontrollable snowball. He was certain he would lose significant power and influence over this debacle. If he failed to satisfy the nobles, he risked losing his position as the leading noble of the northeastern region.


    "Bring the representatives to my tent," he ordered.


    Better to face the consequences sooner rather than later.


    Despite the bruises to his pride and reputation, Count Charles resolved to recover. He believed in the resilience of his family and its legacy.


    Having cleaned himself up and straightened his attire, he welcomed the representatives. Most of them bore visible signs of loss, except for Baron Crassus, whose success was evident.


    As they exchanged glances, many nobles couldn''t help but recall that Michael was still unmarried. Their predatory stares made Michael shiver uncomfortably.

 Chapter 31

    The Count''s tent was surrounded by rows of cavalry, a display of strength that caught Michael''s attention."I want those heavy cavalry," he thought enviously.


    "Thank you for coming despite your fatigue," Count Charles began. "Let us begin the discussion."


    The room was tense as nobles exchanged furtive looks. Most were warriors by nature, ill-suited for negotiations. They relied on their aides to guide them.


    Michael whispered to Baron Crassus, "Your Grace, the Count surely knows the extent of the damage we''ve suffered. We should demand 70% of the spoils from this campaign, in addition to retaining whatever our troops have claimed for themselves."


    Count Charles''s face darkened. "Seventy percent? That''s outrageous! We''ve lost three knights, and there will be more casualties to come."


    "Three knights?" one of the representatives interjected. "We lost 21 knights, including five lords! How will you compensate for those losses?"


    Count Charles clicked his tongue in frustration. "Fine. Then we''ll allocate shares according to each house''s contributions, as has been customary. Individual soldiers may keep what they''ve claimed."


    "That won''t do," Baron Crassus retorted. "We''ve already agreed to divide the spoils collectively. If 70% is too much, then we demand 50% of the total spoils, which we will distribute among ourselves. As for personal claims, those will remain untouched."


    Count Charles hesitated. Overwhelmed by the alliance''s united front, he had no choice but to relent.


    "Very well. I''ll bear the losses," he conceded.


    The meeting ended more swiftly than expected, with the minor noble alliance leaving in high spirits.


    Watching them go, Count Charles smirked.


    "Celebrate while you can. You''re not the only ones with alliances," he muttered, thinking of the viscount houses and other nobles he could rally to his side.


    Still, with his recent string of bad luck, there was no guarantee his plans would succeed.


    The minor nobles were overjoyed with the profits secured by their five representatives.


    Receiving half of the collective spoils, excluding individual loot, was an unprecedented gain. The spoils even included territories. For nobles, acquiring land was irresistible.


    Even if the land was far from their current holdings, they could always exchange it with others. Since estates were often contiguous, swapping territories was a common practice.


    Michael was in good spirits, too. It was now clear to all the minor nobles that he was the true force behind the alliance.


    With such accomplishments, he no longer needed to rely on Baron Kensington to rally support. S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After the meeting concluded, Michael and Baron Crassus hastened back to their camp. The casualties from the battle had unsettled the soldiers, and it was not wise for the lord and his heir to remain absent for long.


    As they approached the camp, the acrid stench of burning flesh assaulted their senses.


    By the fires, soldiers stood solemnly, mourning their fallen comrades. The cremation of the dead was underway.


    This was a grim necessity. On the battlefield, burning corpses was standard protocol¡ªnot just to prevent the spread of disease but to avoid a more sinister threat.


    In this world, the dead often returned. Reanimated comrades usually announced their return with ravenous bites aimed at their former allies.


    With a necromancer among the enemy forces, the precautions were even more critical. The bodies had to be burned completely, leaving nothing but ashes.


    Still, the dead deserved dignity. As the grandson and heir of an executioner, Michael felt it appropriate to offer some form of funeral rite.


    He excused himself from the baron and approached the burning pyre.


    The soldiers made way as Michael stepped forward.


    "Those who rest here, rejoice with all your heart," Michael began, reciting the executioner''s prayer. "Death is peace, a promised sanctity. Do not grieve the end, for I will avenge you. If not me, then who will stain their hands with blood? Peace comes from vengeance, and death is rest."


    Standing before the flames, Michael traced the sacred sign of the gods of death and vengeance.


    The soldiers, who had been watching in awe, hastily mimicked his gesture, drawing the same symbol over their chests.


    It was a cruel world, one where war would never cease.


    Though Michael had not yet gained the strength to reshape its course, he hoped to always make the right choices.


    After a solemn bow toward the blazing pyre, Michael turned and walked away.


    As he departed, the soldiers saluted him with newfound respect.


    His steps toward the barracks were heavy.


    Though he felt no aversion to killing, likely due to a survival instinct, the deaths of his allies weighed on him differently.


    Without such feelings, he would have feared becoming a psychopath.


    Through blood and fire, Michael had undergone a harsh initiation into this world.


    Indeed, humanity was a creature shaped by its environment.


    The next morning, the sound of horns signaling assembly echoed through the camp.


    Dragging his heavy body, Michael mounted Bucephalus. Baron Crassus and Sir Ronald, their eyes shadowed with exhaustion, joined him.


    The aftereffects of their first battle were palpable.


    Though they longed for a day of rest, there was no time to spare.


    The Bloodseal needed to be neutralized, and the remaining fanatics had to be eliminated.


    Failure to act swiftly could endanger their territories.


    The soldiers, understanding this, moved with urgency.


    The haunting image of the fanatics'' blood-red eyes lingered in their minds. They could not allow that same fire to threaten their families.


    Count Charles divided the assembled forces into four legions.


    The first legion comprised Count Charles''s troops and his vassals, along with the 20 court knights brought by the Court Count.


    The second legion consisted of the viscount families and their retainers.


    The third legion was formed from nobles unaffiliated with the minor noble alliance.


    Naturally, the minor noble alliance made up the fourth legion.


    Michael and Baron Crassus directed Sir Ronald to organize their formation while seeking out the other nobles.


    Now that they were part of a legion, they needed to establish a proper order. They could no longer afford to fight as a disorganized mob.


    The allied nobles agreed wholeheartedly.


    They had learned the hard way during the previous battle that 90% of their forces were untrained and ineffective.


    Under standard military structure, units were organized into squads of ten, companies of a hundred, and regiments of a thousand.


    However, the allied nobles instead grouped themselves haphazardly, forming six companies based on personal connections.

 Chapter 32 These Wretched Creatures!

    The scene was chaotic, with soldiers calling out names and searching for relatives among the ranks.Michael opposed this slapdash organization, but he had no authority over soldiers from other domains.


    Even within the alliance, such interference would be overstepping his bounds.


    This was still an era of feudal governance, where each lord managed their own domain.


    Thus, the fourth legion ended up with only six companies¡ªbarely half of its original strength.


    Watching the other legions form their units, Michael felt a growing sense of unease.


    Among the four legions, the fourth was undoubtedly the weakest.


    The first legion, led by Count Charles, included the elite court knights, totaling nearly 100. They even had heavy cavalry.


    The second legion was equally formidable, boasting 70 knights.


    The third legion had a similar number of soldiers to the fourth but included 50 knights.


    In contrast, the minor noble alliance had only 36 knights remaining, having lost 21 in the previous battle.


    The disparity was glaring.


    Adding to Michael''s frustration was the allocation of the 20 court knights to the first legion. Though Count Charles had promised that personal spoils could be kept, this maneuver now seemed like a calculated ploy.


    The alliance nobles were furious that the fourth legion had been given the least number of knights. Complaints would only be met with excuses about spoils distribution, so they resolved to fend for themselves.


    Some even boasted about their skills, claiming they didn''t need help. To Michael, it sounded like sour grapes.


    Still, what could he do? These nobles would rather die than admit weakness. Though Michael couldn''t understand their pride, he had no choice but to go along with it.


    "This cursed world," Michael thought. "If I don''t change the way people think, we''ll all suffocate in this nonsense."


    Due to their contributions in the previous battle, Michael and Baron Crassus were each placed in charge of a regiment. Michael was given command of the fifth regiment in the fourth legion, while Baron Crassus led the sixth.


    As if offering a token of goodwill, Count Charles assigned serf-soldiers to their regiments.


    Each regiment received a hundred serf-soldiers, and Michael was speechless.


    There were different classes of serf-soldiers. The first class consisted of war captives from other nations who couldn''t afford ransom. The second class were those who sold themselves into servitude to survive. Michael suspected that the soldiers assigned to them were from the lowest tier of the second class.


    The serf-soldiers assigned to the fourth legion appeared malnourished and frail¡ªmore suited for burial than battle.


    "It seems we''ve certainly earned Count Charles''s ire," Michael remarked dryly.


    Baron Crassus nodded solemnly. "That much is clear."


    The entrenched elites were clearly trying to suppress the rising influence of the minor noble alliance. This was the result of the larger nobles working together to undermine them.


    Left with no alternative, Michael clenched his teeth and summoned the soldiers of the fifth and sixth regiments to one corner of the camp.


    "Let''s get to work," he said grimly, as preparations for another grueling round of training began.


    Other nobles in the alliance did not follow Michael''s example. In this era, the value of systematic training was poorly understood. They failed to grasp the advantages of discipline and formations.


    Moreover, even within the alliance, the pursuit of glory turned allies into rivals. There was no need to urge the others to train. Allowing them to lag behind was enough to satisfy any moral obligations. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael implemented a mentorship system, pairing each trained soldier from Crassus Barony with a serf-soldier for one-on-one instruction.


    The results were remarkable.


    The training began in the morning and continued until midday, just before the march. The frail serf-soldiers were transformed into something resembling proper troops.


    Intensive, hands-on training proved highly effective. Michael noted that as long as the training didn''t devolve into blind harassment, this approach could yield excellent results.


    Meanwhile, Count Charles was secretly meeting with the other factions, excluding the minor noble alliance.


    Though the delay in departure was regrettable, Michael could only scoff at the typical arrogance of those who underestimated the enemy.


    Once his secret meetings concluded, Count Charles confidently declared the start of the expedition.


    The hasty alliance forces, freshly assembled, lacked cohesion, and as soon as they set out, their disorganization became glaringly apparent.


    The accelerated pace of the march only worsened matters. What began as small cracks in the operation would inevitably grow larger as the campaign continued.


    Michael read the orders handed down to the minor noble alliance and let out a bitter laugh.


    "So that''s what all those secret talks were about¡ªsetting us up with this nonsense," he thought.


    The alliance''s new mission was to oversee supply transport.


    Carts loaded with food and hay began gathering near the fourth legion''s camp.


    In theory, protecting the supply convoy was a vital task, but in practice, it was thankless.


    Supply soldiers rarely ventured into battle. Instead, they stayed at the rear, guarding the convoy. Without opportunities to engage the enemy, the alliance nobles would neither earn accolades nor claim spoils.


    If the convoy was successfully protected, it would simply be expected. If anything went wrong, the blame would fall squarely on them.


    In a campaign against fanatics, where the enemy had no strategy beyond killing and burning, the likelihood of an attack on the supply convoy was slim.


    Still, without enemies to fight, the alliance would return from the campaign empty-handed.


    Michael didn''t yet realize that the nobles of this era considered attacking supply lines dishonorable. Knights and soldiers were expected to face each other head-on. Ambushes or subterfuge were seen as shameful.


    The era was rife with tragic strategists who had been scorned for daring to think outside the box, bearing titles like "Coward King Richard" or "Treacherous John." This, too, was a value system Michael hoped to reform.


    "This is ridiculous!" Baron Aramund grumbled. "How are we supposed to achieve personal glory with this mission?"


    His complaints stirred similar murmurings among the alliance nobles.


    The alliance began to fracture under the weight of dissatisfaction.

 Chapter 33

    Michael shook his head, marveling at Count Charles''s cunning. It was obvious he had assigned this task to sow discord among the minor nobles.Many families had already lost soldiers without earning notable achievements. If the campaign ended with the alliance simply guarding supplies, only Kensington and Crassus would emerge with meaningful contributions.


    Greed was a powerful motivator, and resentful gazes began to turn toward Baron Kensington.


    "Baron Kensington!" one noble demanded. "What do you plan to do about this? At this rate, we''ll lose soldiers for nothing!"


    Kensington clenched his fists, seething with anger. While Count Charles''s machinations infuriated him, the accusations from his allies were even harder to bear.


    "These wretched pigs," he thought. The same nobles who had cheered him on now turned on him without hesitation. He wanted nothing more than to lash out at them.


    Seeing Kensington''s rising frustration, Baron Crassus stepped in.


    "This infighting is exactly what Count Charles wants," Crassus said. "We must stay calm."


    "Hah! Easy for you to say," another noble shot back. "You already have your achievements. Splitting the gains between Kensington and Crassus is fine for you, but what about the rest of us? We''ve lost men with nothing to show for it!"


    The room erupted in arguments until Baron Kensington raised his voice.


    "Enough! I''m no shameless man. If we protect the supplies and see this mission through, I''ll ensure the spoils are distributed according to casualties. Will that suffice?"


    The bickering subsided.


    Kensington''s willingness to take a loss left the others with little room to argue.


    All eyes turned to Baron Crassus, who suddenly felt cornered. Were they expecting him to share his hard-won achievements as well?


    Before the situation could escalate further, Michael stepped forward.


    "I have a plan," he said. "One that will let us achieve both glory and profit. Shall I explain?"


    Michael smirked slyly as he waved the command scroll in his hand.


    "The orders have been issued, so our task is to execute the supply mission perfectly. That''s not likely to be difficult. We''re at the very rear of the army, and unless the fanatics annihilate all the legions ahead of us, there''s little chance of losing the supplies. And, as you can see, the orders don''t say anything about us not earning merit."


    Baron Aramund, impatient as ever, grumbled, "What merit could we possibly earn while guarding supplies? Like you said, there''s no chance the fanatics will even get close to us."


    "We''ll split into two groups," Michael proposed. "One group stays behind to guard the supplies while the other takes on a side mission."


    "A side mission? What kind of side mission?"


    "Think about it," Michael said. "Most of the fanatics are concentrated at Crowley Castle. The first, second, and third legions are advancing ahead of us at an increasing pace, so they won''t have the resources to reclaim occupied villages. The fanatics remaining in those villages are likely minimal, with most of their forces supporting the castle. So, we leave soldiers and some knights to guard the supplies, gather an elite team, and use the three beast mounts to liberate villages.


    "I spoke to Baron Kensington earlier," Michael continued. "He said the three beasts can carry up to 100 people in total and are available if needed. With their speed, we can scout for suitable villages to reclaim. If things get dicey, we can retreat quickly. That way, we earn merit and seize spoils."


    The nobles exchanged wide-eyed glances.


    Baron Kensington''s jaw dropped. "So that''s why you asked about the mounts earlier?"


    Michael''s reasoning was sound. Villages occupied by fanatics wouldn''t be nearly as fortified as the ones near Crowley Castle. The number of fanatics would likely only amount to a few dozen. Killing them all might not result in significant merit, but the real goal wasn''t merit¡ªit was acquiring resources.


    Even if they encountered more fanatics than expected, retreating as Michael suggested would mitigate the risk.


    The idea of reclaiming villages was just a pretext. The true aim was to loot and recover wealth.


    The nobles exchanged knowing looks, silently agreeing on the brilliance of the plan.


    Meanwhile, at Crowley Castle, Leonardo, the high priest, necromancer, and fervent worshiper of the Outer God, stood at the highest point, letting the wind sweep over him.


    He was exhilarated.


    The great and beautiful goddess had spoken to him¡ªa mere servant.


    [Le-Leonardo, are you there? I require more offerings. The stronger they are, the better. The ones you gave me before were delicious. Bring me more of such offerings.]


    Leonardo fell to his knees, bowing in reverence.


    "Oh, most noble one whose name cannot even be uttered, I will soon deliver more offerings to you. I''ve heard that foolish mortals are marching toward us, unwittingly presenting themselves as sacrifices for your greatness. By drawing them in and killing them, we can summon even more followers."


    The goddess laughed, and the sound crushed Leonardo''s soul, leaving it in pieces. Yet he found the experience euphoric.


    "Ah, my goddess..."


    This power¡ªthis was it. A force unparalleled, one that had torn its way into this world.


    He was intoxicated by it.


    What of the old gods? Were they not once like his goddess¡ªforeign entities to this realm?


    The ignorant masses refused to acknowledge the Outer Gods as legitimate deities, but Leonardo''s perspective was different.


    Witnessing the birth of a new god and her worshipers was, to him, a divine mission.


    A new era was dawning.


    In a hundred years, a thousand years, or ten thousand years, the story he was shaping would become mythology, and he would be its prophet.


    Leonardo struggled to contain the overwhelming emotion surging within him. This was a rare chance to hear the voice of the goddess, and he wouldn''t waste it.


    "Oh, great goddess! I am your first¡ª"


    His words faltered as he realized something was amiss. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The goddess''s voice had vanished.


    "Goddess...? Goddess!"


    Elsewhere, Alfred stood in the depths of the mountains, outside a dark cave.


    The trail had ended here.

 Chapter 34 Lets Take Up a Side Hustle

    Raising his hand, he shattered the barrier guarding the cave like glass.As the barrier broke, a foul stench seeped out from the cave''s depths, causing him to wrinkle his nose.


    "I''ve found the right place," he muttered.


    For his beloved grandson, swift action was necessary. Alfred stepped into the cave, the stench growing stronger with each step.


    At the cave''s end, "she" awaited.


    Her long black hair flowed like a waterfall, framing a face of divine beauty. Her pale, ample bosom only added to her ethereal allure.


    But the enchantment ended at her navel.


    From the waist down, she was a massive spider¡ªa grotesque blend of woman and arachnid.


    It was her. The target.


    [Who-who are you? How-how did you find this place?]


    The creature was visibly startled, sensing a power far beyond that of any human.


    Fear radiated from her as she trembled before the undeniable gap in strength.


    "It doesn''t matter who I am," Alfred replied coldly. "A mere fragment of an Outer God, pretending to be a deity."


    [Si-Silence! How dare you call me a fragment? Insolent fool! I will tear you apart myself!]


    "Do I look like one of your idiotic priests?" Alfred sneered. "Spare me the theatrics."


    [You insolent wretch! I am the great and terrifying goddess of dread!]


    Alfred''s eyes, which had been gazing at the spider-woman with boredom, suddenly blazed with fury. Those who knew him would have been shocked to see such a strong display of emotion.


    "To dare speak the word ''dread'' in my presence!" Alfred roared, raising his hand.


    Shadowy vines rose from his arm, surging toward the spider-woman. She screamed helplessly, her cries enough to shatter an ordinary human''s soul. Yet Alfred stood unaffected.


    Was he even human?


    The spider-woman, weakened from piercing the material realm, could not resist. The shadowy vines bound her completely.


    [Screeech! Who-who are you? How do you wield the power of dread? Are you her descendant? No... That cannot be. She is gone. How does such power still exist in this world?]


    Greed flickered in the spider-woman''s eyes. If only she could make that power her own...


    But as the thought crossed her mind, her world flipped upside down.


    [Wh-what is happening?]


    The world spun around her, and she found herself looking at her own severed body¡ªa beautiful upper half atop a grotesque spider lower half.


    Her thoughts ceased there.


    Alfred nudged the rolling head with his foot until it stopped, then approached her main body. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Slashing it open, he extracted its core, a small orb that pulsated faintly with power. A rare smile crossed Alfred''s grim face.


    "This will suffice to seal ''that thing'' and solve Michael''s problem," he murmured.


    Meanwhile, Leonardo was in chaos.


    The connection to his goddess had been severed, and he could feel her presence fading entirely. All that remained was the power she had bestowed upon him¡ªthe ability to charm and manipulate others.


    But what use was that power if the goddess herself was gone?


    Consumed by despair, Leonardo let out a guttural scream of rage.


    Hearing his cries, the priests he had personally appointed and empowered came running.


    "High Priest! Are you alright?"


    Leonardo collapsed into a chair, his movements sluggish and resigned.


    "None of this matters anymore," he muttered. "Not those fools outside, not these wretched worshippers. Without her, what''s the point of it all?"


    He waved dismissively at the priests.


    "I''m fine. Leave me."


    "But the screams¡ª"


    "I said leave!" he bellowed.


    The priests exchanged uneasy glances before retreating. Once outside the tower, they shook their heads.


    "Same as always," one muttered.


    "Shh! Be quiet," another hissed. "Do you want to end up as food?"


    The bald priest who had spoken first shivered, recalling the horrors of their sacrifices to the spider entity. People had been torn apart, their bodies devoured, and even their souls consumed.


    "Ugh. If I''d known it would be like this, I''d have stuck to being a bandit," he grumbled.


    "Shut up! Do you want to get caught?"


    The bald priest fell silent but couldn''t help thinking about how much things had changed.


    Once, they had been carefree bandits. Now, their former comrades danced naked and crazed, invoking a goddess with manic fervor.


    Forced to join in the bizarre rituals, he often felt overwhelming shame.


    Still, survival demanded that he play along. With a sigh, he trudged toward the base of the castle.


    Leonardo paced the tower, biting his nails. His mind was clouded and chaotic.


    In his haze, he sensed a faint aura.


    "My goddess!"


    He was certain it was her. But why was her power so weak? And why outside the cave?


    Had she escaped from the forces of Radiance, concealing herself in a weakened state?


    Fury boiled within him.


    "Damn Radiance!" he spat. "Those meddlesome dogs, always interfering!"


    Consumed by anger, he sought out his deputy priest.


    After berating the man for his tardiness, Leonardo calmed slightly.


    "I have somewhere to go," he announced. "The rest is up to you."


    The deputy priest was alarmed.


    "High Priest, may I ask where you are going?"


    "You may not, fool. Just do as I say."


    "But the Blood Quill¡ª"


    "You deal with it! I have urgent matters to attend to."


    Strapping on his satchel, Leonardo leapt from the castle wall.


    The corpse golem waiting below caught him effortlessly.


    Perched atop his 3-meter-tall masterpiece, Leonardo pointed decisively.


    "Go! To where I sense the goddess''s aura."


    The deputy priest, also known as Orpheus, a covert priest of Radiance, stood dumbfounded.


    This was disastrous.


    All the meticulous planning was now on the brink of collapse because that idiot had fled.


    "What do I do now?" Orpheus muttered, clutching his head.


    Finding and manipulating that dim-witted necromancer into using the Blood Quill had been no small feat.


    The plan had gone perfectly¡ªturning bandits into priests, killing Baron Crowley and his family, and transforming the barony''s population into fanatics.


    With the arrival of Radiance''s forces, the fanatics would have been effortlessly defeated.


    How was he supposed to explain this debacle when his comrades arrived?

 Chapter 35

    Frantically wracking his brain, Orpheus realized the situation might work to his advantage.That stubborn necromancer had always been difficult to control.


    Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise.


    All he needed to do was outfit one of the dead bandits in a hood and carry on as planned.


    Radiance''s ultimate goal was to restore faith by staging a theatrical triumph.


    The barony''s unfortunate inhabitants, turned into unwitting fanatics, would play their roles in the grand performance.


    Orpheus felt no pity for them.


    To him, they should consider it an honor to serve as tools for the glory of Radiance.


    "All proceeds as intended," he muttered.


    When the holy knights arrived, they would annihilate the fanatics, allowing the Blood Quill to be sealed once more.


    But there was no need to inform the world of its re-sealing.


    Instead, the clergy of Radiance would demand that all citizens across the continent receive monthly blessings to ensure the Quill''s containment.


    Recalling the applause he had received when proposing this plan to Radiance''s leadership, Orpheus''s chest swelled with pride.


    "This isn''t a conspiracy," he thought. "It''s Radiance''s guidance for a wayward world. Let there be light!"


    As dusk fell over the forest, Alfred hefted the unconscious necromancer onto his shoulder.


    "Such a fine gift for my grandson," he mused with a faint smile.


    Count Charles ascended a hill on his chimera, surveying the chaotic formations of the allied forces below. The sight was headache-inducing. He had been aware that the coalition army''s capabilities varied widely, but he had underestimated just how disorganized they were.


    Barely into the march, the troops had already descended into disorder. The pace of the march had to match the slowest units, making any effort to maintain cohesion nearly impossible.


    No matter how much the vanguard, the 1st Corps, accelerated, it was futile. The 2nd Corps lagged behind by half the distance, followed by the 3rd Corps, and somewhere far at the rear, the 4th Corps, responsible for logistics, was completely out of sight.


    Count Charles''s frustrations mounted further when a message arrived from the 4th Corps. They reported that they could not keep up with the march because they lacked sufficient beasts of burden, forcing soldiers to pull the supply wagons themselves.


    The count fumed as he read the dispatch.


    "What kind of unit is this? How could they possibly be short of animals for the wagons?" S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    His adjutant quietly provided an explanation.


    "Your Excellency, the 4th Corps includes Baron Kensington. It seems their supply wagons rely on his war beasts for transport, which leaves no spare livestock. Additionally, the oxen we sent were used as food for the beasts, and the horses were allocated to replace those lost by knights during yesterday''s skirmish. Baron Kensington has stated that if his war beasts are deprived of food or overburdened, he will send them back to his territory."


    "Th-that...!" Charles spluttered, suppressing his anger. "Fine. Fine! Tell them to follow as best they can."


    The reasoning was sound. In a confrontation with a necromancer, three war beasts were a significant asset.


    Moreover, each soldier carried at least a day''s worth of rations, so the delay of the supply wagons was manageable.


    After all, Charles himself had maneuvered to assign the 4th Corps to logistical duties. He reassured himself that the slow pace of the other corps meant they could all rendezvous at the camp that night.


    While the sluggish pace of the march had been justified, a new conflict arose among the minor nobles of the 4th Corps.


    Someone had to oversee the soldiers transporting the supplies, but no one wanted the task.


    Baron Kensington scanned the gathered knights and nobles, hoping someone would volunteer.


    "Come now," he urged, "it''s crucial that we safeguard the supplies. Someone responsible, diligent, and capable must stay behind to lead the corps. Who will step forward?"


    The group collectively avoided eye contact, each hoping someone else would take on the dull and thankless duty.


    Michael, observing the standstill, realized he would have to step in once more. Without decisive leadership, the corps would never make it to camp by nightfall.


    "Let''s do it this way," Michael proposed. "Whoever stays behind to oversee the supplies will still receive an equal share of the spoils."


    Even then, no one volunteered. The nobles grumbled inwardly¡ªwhat use was a share of the spoils when the thrill of combat and plunder lay ahead?


    Baron Kensington felt his frustration rising. He, of all people, wanted to be part of the vanguard. As one of the poorest nobles present, he could ill afford to pass up the chance for loot.


    "Michael, you''re the most intelligent and capable among us," chimed in Baron Brun, one of the senior nobles, with a sly smile. "Surely you''re the best candidate for this task."


    Michael shot a glare at Brun that could have pierced steel.


    Before he could respond, his father, Baron Crassus, stepped forward.


    "Is that how you treat the architect of this plan?" he rebuked. "If no one else will take the responsibility, I will. My son still has much to learn through firsthand experience in battle. It''s only right that the older generation handles this."


    Michael looked at his father, deeply moved. While the elder Crassus often played his role as a parent in his own gruff way, Michael truly appreciated the gesture this time.


    Baron Crassus''s declaration prompted several other senior knights to step forward, all of them experienced veterans without heirs to risk in battle.


    Their collective agreement silenced Brun, who retreated sheepishly, realizing he''d drawn the ire of the older knights.


    With the looting, or rather, the "village reclamation force" decided, Baron Kensington mounted his griffon and soared into the skies.


    He flew cautiously, mindful not to climb so high that he''d be spotted by other corps, nor too low to risk hitting tree branches. His mission was to scout for villages worth reclaiming, where his mounted team could follow.


    Though it pained him to push his treasured war beasts to their limits, he steeled himself¡ªprofits awaited.

 Chapter 36 Jackpot!

    Thanks to the griffon''s speed, the reconnaissance was completed quickly. The chosen village, once wealthy, showed clear signs of enemy occupation but seemed poorly defended.The operation began swiftly. Mounted on the war beasts, Michael marveled at their agility and speed. For the first time, he experienced their convenience and vowed to someday acquire one for himself.


    The reclamation force dealt with the scattered fanatics swiftly. Though the village''s defenders fought fiercely, they lacked the numbers or organization to resist the coordinated attack.


    As the fighting subsided, Michael couldn''t help but feel a sense of triumph.


    "Jackpot," he muttered under his breath.


    The fanatics who weren''t in the presence of their commanders were like lifeless puppets, mindlessly charging forward with vacant stares. Dispatching them was a quick and easy task for the invading force.


    Inside the grain guild''s storage, sacks of wheat, oats, and barley were piled high. Unlike typical rebels, who would have either stolen or destroyed such resources, these fanatics seemed to have left everything untouched¡ªlikely due to their unnatural allegiance to the Blood Quill. S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    This worked out perfectly for the invaders, as there was plenty to "reclaim." The nobles and soldiers eagerly raced toward the village''s mansions.


    Michael chose a nearby manor, deciding not to waste time searching for a larger or more extravagant one. Efficiency trumped greed.


    Upon entering, he began stuffing silver candelabras, gilded picture frames, and other valuables into a sack.


    Before he realized it, Miaomiao¡ªhis deceptively innocent-looking sphinx companion¡ªhad brought him a string of large pearls in its mouth.


    Moments later, it returned with a sapphire ring and even a small gold ingot.


    Michael beamed, petting the feline.


    "Well done, Miaomiao! You seem to like shiny things, huh? Good kitty."


    The sphinx, Neferteri, nearly choked on indignation. How could someone be this dense? She had to stifle the urge to reveal her true identity. If Michael didn''t even suspect her, what would be the point? To admit it now would be beneath her dignity.


    Sighing, Neferteri trotted off to fetch more treasures.


    ''Still, I do like shiny things,'' she admitted to herself, her tail flicking in amusement.


    In no time, their haul had filled the sack: 12 silver candelabras, three gilded frames, a pearl necklace, a sapphire ring, five gold ingots the size of a finger, and 300 gold in coins.


    Michael secured the sack onto the wagon outside. "A knight''s honor," he thought, assured that no ally would dare to pilfer from another''s haul.


    With Neferteri leading the way, they moved to a second house. This time, the feline chose a modest two-story residence.


    Inside, Michael noticed something unusual¡ªa lit candle in the parlor.


    Given the abandoned state of the village, with dust covering every surface, the presence of a burning candle was a clear anomaly.


    Picking it up, Michael''s eyes widened in delight.


    "A magical candle! Miaomiao, you''ve done it again!"


    These enchanted candles, found only in the finest noble homes, emitted a bright, steady light akin to electric bulbs and produced no soot. Nearly perpetual in their use, they were both practical and prestigious.


    Satisfied, Michael began meticulously searching the house. If they had magical candles, what other treasures might be hidden here?


    In the dining room, he discovered a tray with fresh food¡ªa steaming bowl of soup, an apple, and perfectly cooked bacon. Intrigued, he bit into the apple, which was crisp and bursting with flavor.


    "A magical serving tray?" he muttered, astonished. While not particularly practical for everyday use, such trays were a favorite of nobles during lavish banquets. This was a prime find, perfect for selling when he traveled to the capital.


    It was now evident¡ªthe house''s owner wasn''t just wealthy; they were a magic artisan capable of creating enchanted items. Michael''s excitement reached a fever pitch.


    Scooping up Neferteri in his arms, he pressed his cheek to her fur.


    "You''re my lucky charm, Miaomiao!"


    The sphinx squirmed, meowing in protest, but Michael held tight, basking in the soft swats of her paw against his face. Even her faint huff of indignation couldn''t dampen his spirits.


    In the bedroom, Michael struck gold¡ªliterally and figuratively.


    He found a leather pouch that, upon opening, revealed a dark, endless void. A spatial pouch.


    "Jackpot!" he exclaimed.


    With trembling hands, he explored its contents: 450 mana stones, a unicorn horn, leaves from the Tree of Life, basilisk venom, and countless other rare and valuable ingredients.


    Even a small vial of dragon''s blood was tucked inside. Though he wasn''t sure of its exact use, Michael knew it was invaluable.


    Holding the pouch close, Michael vowed to keep it on him at all times. This was not something to leave on a wagon.


    As he prepared to leave the bedroom, Neferteri began scratching furiously at a section of the bookshelf.


    "What''s this?" he murmured, pulling on the book she had marked.


    With a creak, the bookshelf rotated, revealing a hidden staircase.


    Michael stared at the dark passage, excitement coursing through him. But just as he took a step forward, Neferteri blocked his path, hissing and headbutting him away.


    "Alright, alright, I get it. It''s almost time to regroup," Michael said, misinterpreting her warnings. "You''re so clever, Miaomiao."


    Neferteri let out an exasperated sigh. She had already disabled the self-destruct enchantment, but she knew this was no place for Michael. The magic in this hidden chamber was far beyond his capabilities.


    With a mix of reluctance and determination, Michael left the house, marking its location in his memory. He''d return when better prepared.


    As he rejoined the group, he couldn''t help but grin.


    This raid had been far more rewarding than he had imagined.


    After raiding three more houses, Michael couldn''t help but feel a tinge of disappointment. The last few yielded only gold and silver treasures, lacking the rare magical artifacts he''d previously discovered.


    Still, with his pockets heavier, he felt unusually content. It''s true what they say: wealth brings peace of mind.


    Exhausted from the relentless scavenging, Miaomiao clung to Michael''s shoulder, letting out soft, pitiful meows.

 Chapter 37 The Raiding Party

    "Tired, huh? You''ve worked hard," Michael said with a warm smile, stroking the feline''s head."Tonight, I''ll treat you to something special."


    The tiny purring that followed made Michael''s chest feel light and warm. He resolved to serve Miaomiao the finest beef available.


    On their way to the designated meeting point in the village square, the streets were chaotic. Nobles and their retainers darted about like locusts during harvest season, all frantically searching for loot.


    Upon reaching the square, Michael spotted Kensington Baron feeding a cow to his Great Worm, an enormous 8th-tier magical beast. Curious, Michael approached him.


    "Brother Vincent, you''re already here? Didn''t think there''d be any cows left in the village."


    Having been ordered to address the baron as "brother" instead of the more formal "uncle," Michael had reluctantly agreed to the odd request. Despite the 25-year age gap, Kensington seemed insistent.


    "Of course. This isn''t our last stop, after all. Found it half-starved and tethered in a barn. Figured it''s better off feeding my Gaius II than dying here."


    Michael raised a brow, suspecting Kensington had probably been the first to grab any valuable livestock during reconnaissance. Still, given the risks the baron often took, Michael decided to let it slide.


    Kensington gazed lovingly at his monstrous worm as it finished devouring the cow, its wriggling form almost dancing with delight.


    "Adorable, isn''t he?"


    Michael forced a smile.


    "...Charming, I suppose."


    "His father was being sold on the black market. Barely managed to save him and start breeding this magnificent line. Took a lot of effort¡ªand dragon blood¡ªto make it happen."


    At the mention of dragon blood, Michael''s ears perked up. He had wanted to ask about it since discovering the vial in the magical pouch.


    "Is it true dragon blood is essential for breeding magical beasts?"


    "Well, nothing awakens a beast''s potential like it. It even makes breeding easier. The best stuff is dragon''s pure blood, though that''s beyond someone like me. Only the richest or most powerful can afford such a luxury."


    Michael nodded in understanding. Dragons, classified as 1st-tier magical beasts, were intelligent creatures capable of speech and unparalleled strength. Their blood was rare and extraordinarily valuable.


    "How did you come to know so much about this?" Michael asked.


    "Our family keeps a record of such things. Old experiments from wars between dragons and humans are well-documented. I''ll lend it to you someday if you''re interested."


    Michael''s eyes lit up.


    Knowledge was the rarest and most valuable currency in the world. Most noble families guarded theirs fiercely, so Kensington''s offer was a rare gift.


    As they talked, Michael''s gaze drifted to a Bronco Lizard nearby. The massive creature was munching on tree trunks instead of leaves, its appearance reminiscent of the sauropod dinosaurs from Earth.


    "Is that Bronco a 9th-tier magical beast? How much gold would it take to acquire one?" Michael asked, half-joking.


    Kensington laughed heartily. "If you marry my youngest daughter, I''ll throw him in as part of the dowry." S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael''s face twitched slightly, but he kept his composure, forcing a polite smile.


    "Marriage is a matter for my parents to decide. But I''m curious¡ªhow did you come by this Bronco?"


    "Ah, my sweet Galatea. She was up for auction on the black market. Some brutes were planning to sell her as meat¡ªcan you imagine? There are people who believe eating dragon meat prolongs your life. Ridiculous. Of course, since she belongs to the dragon species, she almost met the same fate. Luckily, I arrived in time for the auction. She was about the size of a dog back then, but look at her now¡ªa perfect specimen."


    Michael took in the gentle gaze of the Bronco Lizard. It was enormous, its size comparable to a small two-story house. Capable of carrying 70 men at once, faster than horses, and docile by nature¡ªit was the ultimate beast for logistics and exploration.


    Kensington, clearly fond of his collection of beasts, rested a heavy hand on Michael''s shoulder.


    "So, you like magical beasts, eh? My youngest is quite the beauty, takes after me, of course. Come visit when you want to see those family records¡ªI''ll make sure you meet her."


    Michael resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his smile growing increasingly strained.


    Kensington was a towering figure, over 190 centimeters tall, with fiery red hair and a rugged beard. He looked every bit the archetypal mountain bandit, albeit dressed in noble attire.


    "Perhaps when things are less chaotic, I''ll visit. But tell me, how much did you pay for Galatea?"


    "Hm¡­ about 7,000 gold, I think. The bidding started at 1,000, but I got carried away. You know how rare live magical beasts are. Even with lower-tier ones, living specimens are ten times more expensive than their cores. While 9th-tier beasts aren''t too uncommon, Galatea is part dragon, so she''s naturally pricier. My first Great Worm, Gaius I, was much cheaper."


    Michael sighed in frustration.


    It was no wonder Kensington had gone from being one of the wealthiest lords in the northeastern territory to teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. Maintaining three high-tier magical beasts was a staggering financial burden.


    Between the cow-devouring Great Worm, the tree-munching Bronco, and the Griffin that required buckets of offal for each meal, it was a wonder the baron had any gold left at all.


    Looking at the relatively modest gains from today''s raids, Michael felt a pang of despair. Even after hauling so much loot, he could barely afford half a Bronco Lizard.


    Still, as the gathered nobles prepared for the next target, Michael steeled himself. Tomorrow would be better, and for now, he''d work with what he had.


    The raiding party climbed back onto their beasts, heading toward the next village already scouted by Kensington.


    There was no telling what treasures they''d find next.


    After raiding two more villages, Michael and his comrades returned, utterly exhausted. The mental toll of picking and choosing the wealthiest houses was worse than the actual battle.


    With so many "dud" houses, the knights who struck gold found themselves the target of envious glares.

 Chapter 38 Take My Son With You

    Luckily for Michael, he had struck early and fast, so no one truly knew the extent of his haul. His relatively small stack of sacks didn''t attract much attention, keeping him out of the spotlight.But Michael knew better. His share was undoubtedly the largest, thanks to his "lucky charm," Miaomiao. Every house the cat led him to turned out to be a treasure trove.


    Even if none could match the marvels of the mage''s house, each stop had been lucrative in its own way.


    Rejoining the supply convoy, the raiding party eventually arrived at the camp, well past the hour of midnight. Other divisions had long since finished their meals and settled in for the night.


    After notifying Count Charles of their return, Michael and the other noble representatives hastily scarfed down some rations before gathering in Kensington Baron''s tent.


    There was still much to do¡ªchief among them was the exchange of spoils.


    The nobles displayed their treasures, trading items they didn''t need for those they did. What one found useless might be another''s prize, and Michael approached the task with keen eyes.


    A few chose to leave their rewards behind for those who had remained with the supply unit. Kensington, as usual, set an example by generously allowing those left behind to pick freely from his share. The baron''s selflessness earned him a wave of admiration from the crowd.


    Michael quietly observed the goods on display. He paid particular attention to works of art. Most northern nobles lacked the refinement to appreciate such pieces, which could lead to spectacular opportunities for those who could.


    Thanks to the education passed down by Lincoln, Michael recognized the value of artistry and rare artifacts.


    Among the offerings, he noticed several promising paintings and approached the owner of one.


    "How much are you asking for this painting?"


    The seller, a grizzled old knight, glanced dismissively at the piece.


    "This? Ten gold should do. Some fool grabbed it, saying it was pretty, but it''s just taking up space. Wooden frame, nothing special. Better to get some coin for it."


    Michael turned his attention to the young man behind the knight, likely the "fool" who had chosen the painting. The wiry youth didn''t seem to fit the typical mold of a northern noble¡ªhe looked more suited to wielding a pen than a sword.


    "A fine eye your son has," Michael began with a small smile. "You might not realize, but this painting is a masterpiece. It''s a 300-year-old portrait of a Caprice Kingdom princess, painted by none other than Bellastes, the royal court artist.


    "This piece was thought lost during the kingdom''s fall 170 years ago. If you took it to an auction in the capital, it would fetch no less than 1,000 gold."


    The knight''s stern face softened as he turned to his son, a proud smile forming.


    "Well, I''ll be damned. My boy really does have an eye for these things!"


    He turned back to Michael, gratitude plain on his face. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Bless you, young man! You could''ve kept quiet and bought this off me for ten gold, made a killing at my expense. How can I repay you for your honesty?"


    Michael leaned in slightly and whispered a suggestion.


    The old knight listened intently, his face breaking into an expression of awe.


    "Smart, resourceful, and honest¡ªa rare combination! Consider it done. Oh, and, young man, would you consider taking my son under your wing? He''s still a squire, but he''s got potential.


    "If he were born to a wealthier house, he might already be a knight. Poor lad''s stuck with a rusty old codger like me for a father. Take him, and I''ll send 50 gold each year as a training stipend."


    Michael smiled inwardly at the knight''s calculated move. This was precisely why he had chosen to approach a noble with influence and a good reputation.


    Turning to the nervous young squire, Michael asked, "What''s your name?"


    The youth, unable to meet Michael''s gaze, stammered, "I-I''m Julian, sir. I look forward to serving you."


    The old knight clapped his son''s back so hard that the younger man wobbled under the impact.


    "Take good care of him, will you? I''m no seer, but I know talent when I see it. He''ll make a fine knight someday¡ªand bring honor to our house."


    Pushing Julian toward Michael, the old knight''s eyes shone with unshed tears. His pride and love for his son were evident.


    "I''ll leave my boy in your capable hands. Meanwhile, I''ll go spread the word about your expertise in appraising art!"


    With a cheerful wave, the knight strode off, loudly boasting about Michael''s skills to his peers.


    Soon, other nobles approached Michael, asking for his help in assessing their treasures.


    As he accepted offers of appraisal fees, Michael struggled to suppress a grin.


    "Jackpot."


    The morning dawned clear.


    Michael, who had fallen asleep only at dawn after staying up late to process a torrent of emotions, forced his tired eyes open. Nearby, his newly recruited squire, Julian, was meticulously adjusting his armor. Unlike the younger Alex and Anthony, Julian had a habit of seeking out tasks to do without being told, which made him seem quite capable.


    Noticing Michael rising, Julian approached and stood politely before him.


    "My lord, Count Charles has sent a message. He requests your presence in his tent as soon as you awaken."


    Michael frowned slightly. Something felt off. He briefly reviewed his recent actions, wondering if he had made any missteps. As long as there wasn''t a spy among the serf soldiers sent by Count Charles to the Small Nobles'' Alliance, there should be nothing to criticize. Even if there were spies, it would have been impossible for them to see the 100 knights leaving for their raid from the position of the serf soldiers.


    Still...


    As he began to ponder further, Michael shook his head. He would find out soon enough.


    When Michael arrived at Count Charles''s tent, the Count was in the middle of having breakfast.

 Chapter 39 Taking Care Of The Counts Son

    "Oh, Sir Michael! Come in. I''ve had a meal prepared for you as well. Servant, bring in the food!"Michael sat down, his guard not entirely hidden. Shortly after, a servant dressed immaculately entered with a well-prepared tray. The meal was overly luxurious for a battlefield: rich tea accompanied by cream and sugar, freshly baked bread, bacon, prosciutto, scrambled eggs, butter, and milk.


    Indeed, high-ranking nobles were on a different level.


    "This is a splendid feast. I won''t refuse," Michael said, digging in.


    After finishing his meal and sipping tea, the conversation turned to business. Count Charles clasped his hands together and fixed his gaze on Michael as he began.


    "Sir Michael, I''ve heard of your exploits. They say your quick judgment was key to entering the fortress first. How old are you?"


    "I turned 17 this year," Michael replied.


    "Ah, an early awakening to aura! If I may be so bold, I''ve heard you didn''t grow up in a castle. Who taught you swordsmanship?"


    "My maternal family oversees five territories as executioners. I grew up there and learned the beheading blade technique from my grandfather. I''ve had no other formal instruction."


    Count Charles''s eyes sparkled.


    This was precious.


    A raw talent who had awakened aura without growth stimulants or formal swordsmanship training! A rough diamond, the finest grade of all.


    "Ha ha! Truly remarkable at such a young age. You have a shining gift. I understand you were appointed heir after your brother''s death. The burden must feel heavy all of a sudden. Are you coping well?"


    Michael found the Count''s sudden familiarity unsettling. What was he after? He studied the Count with wary eyes. Sensing Michael''s apprehension, the Count cleared his throat and got to the point.


    "Ah, well... The truth is, you remind me of my son. My youngest is about your age. I plan to assign him to the supply unit, and I was wondering if you could keep an eye on him. What do you think?"


    Count Charles''s youngest son was the apple of his eye, a late-born child cherished despite already having an heir who had grown old enough to give him grandchildren. The boy had been force-fed growth stimulants to artificially awaken aura, but such an awakening made him only a half-knight at best.


    The young man''s first campaign had left him terrified. As the battlefield drew nearer, his silence and shrinking demeanor had worsened. Unable to bear it any longer, Count Charles had made this decision. He had tried scolding and cajoling his son, but there was little he could do about the boy''s timid nature. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    If anything went wrong, it would be disastrous. He intended to protect his son by assigning him to the safest position at the rear while also observing Michael''s character.


    Michael, however, was flustered. He had raids to carry out!


    "I''m afraid I lack the qualifications to accompany your son. Perhaps a more experienced knight would be better suited?"


    The Count laughed heartily.


    "Ha ha! No need to worry. My son has already agreed and is eager to befriend you. Being a late-born child of high status, he has no peers his age. Forming a friendship with you would be ideal."


    Count Charles had other intentions as well. The Crassus Barony was in an excellent position to be drawn into his influence. Protecting his son while assessing Michael''s character, and perhaps even marrying off one of his daughters if Michael proved worthy, seemed like a solid plan. His fourth daughter, though born of a concubine, was legally adopted by his first wife, which would make her an acceptable match for the Crassus family.


    While the Count indulged in his schemes, Michael was speechless. If he took responsibility for the Count''s youngest son, he would have to abandon the raid. Worse, if the boy were to get injured or killed, it would spell disaster.


    He would be saddled with a useless burden. Yet, there was no way to refuse. Feeling as though he had been struck by lightning on a clear day, Michael was near tears. His plans for a profitable raid that day were dashed.


    It seemed he would have to ask his father to take charge of the operation instead.


    "Well, then. Let me introduce you to my son. Bring Louis in!"


    Moments later, the tent''s entrance opened, and a young man with unremarkable brown hair and a fragile demeanor entered. His expression was somber. Glancing briefly at Michael, he quickly bowed his head.


    "I am Louis Brian de Charles. Please take care of me."


    Resigned, Michael had no choice but to accept.


    "Likewise, I am Michael von Crassus. I look forward to working with you."


    Back at the camp with the timid Louis in tow, Michael sought out his father. He needed his father to take charge and secure plenty of spoils in his stead.


    "This is how things turned out, Father. Please lead the recovery mission for me."


    Baron Crassus sighed. Their family''s lack of influence had reduced them to caretakers for others.


    "Well, there''s no helping it. Now that it''s come to this, do your best to get along with him. Ensure he stays out of danger."


    "That''s my plan. The Count must truly care for his son; he assigned twelve knights to guard him. If I place him among them, he won''t slow us down."


    "Good thinking. And be careful with your words. Count Charles wouldn''t send his son out for such a simple reason. He likely has an ulterior motive, though we don''t know what it is yet. Don''t give him any reason to find fault with you.


    "Still... who could I blame for having such an outstanding son? It''s all because of you."


    Despite his words, the Baron''s face was full of pride and joy. The root of this issue was, after all, his son''s exceptional talent.


    No matter how much Michael tried to hide his brilliance, it was impossible to suppress it. Like a needle piercing through cloth, his talents inevitably showed.


    Seeing his father practically glowing with pride, Michael cleared his throat.


    At least he seems to be taking this well, Michael thought.

 Chapter 40 The Frustrated Raiding Forces

    Michael discreetly saw his father off, doing his best to divert the attention of Louis and his escort knights. He had wanted to send Miaomiao along with his father, but that proved impossible. The determined feline clung to Michael''s shoulder, digging in with its claws and flailing wildly, making it impossible to pry the cat off.In the end, Michael could only hope his father had a good eye for valuable goods.


    The remaining supply unit commanders were all old knights who had sent their heirs off to join the raiding forces. Being the only young man present, Michael naturally became the focus of everyone''s attention.


    The old knights chuckled and left all the responsibilities to Michael, riding leisurely at the rear of the unit and chatting amongst themselves as if they were on a pleasant outing.


    With the leadership in such disarray, the supply unit''s discipline was in shambles. The procession resembled a disorganized mass of writhing worms rather than a military unit.


    Michael took a deep breath, striving to calm himself as he observed the chaos. If nothing else, the experience was a lesson in patience and discipline. He felt as though he might ascend to enlightenment at this rate.


    Still, something had to be done. While he couldn''t set overly high standards for soldiers who weren''t even under his direct command, the current state of affairs was unacceptable. At the very least, they needed to resemble a proper army.


    Michael opted for his final and best solution, one that was a bit forceful but necessary under the circumstances. For a disorderly rabble like this, the harshest methods were often the most effective.


    He began by assigning one of his personal guards to each wagon in the convoy.


    "You are now responsible for the soldiers assigned to your wagon," Michael instructed them. "You will move, eat, and sleep together. Ensure that the soldiers watch over one another. Enforce the rules. Any soldier who breaks formation or disobeys orders will be punished with the whip. Conversely, those who perform well will be rewarded. Every soldier must understand that they share life and death with their wagon mates.


    "If any soldier abandons their post or disrupts the formation, the entire wagon team will go without food. On the other hand, wagons that maintain discipline and perform well will be rewarded with meat and wine. Soldiers may only go hungry, but I will personally punish the guards responsible for lapses. I will not tolerate disorder among my subordinates."


    After surveying the soldiers to gauge their reactions, Michael continued in a commanding voice. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Do you think I''m bluffing? Test me, then. Any soldier who dares to disobey military orders will be hanged. And if anyone thinks they can escape responsibility by deserting, know this: your families¡ªyoung and old alike¡ªwill be executed. Their bodies will hang at the village gates for all to see.


    "Remember, I am a man of clear rewards and punishments. Lead your wagon and soldiers well, and you will be rewarded in kind. Understood?"


    A resounding "Yes, sir!" erupted from the soldiers.


    Michael had effectively introduced collective responsibility within the supply unit. Though harsh, it was undeniably effective. While such measures were unsuitable for long-term use, they were practical in a short-term crisis like this.


    For the majority of the wagon guards, who were serf soldiers, hunger was the ultimate punishment, while the promise of meat and wine was the highest incentive. Michael aimed to instill in them the importance of working together.


    When the army resumed its march, Michael prepared a feast during the midday break.


    He began roasting the game he had hunted earlier, letting the savory aroma waft through the entire supply unit. Soon, soldiers received salted roasted meat, and the taste left them longing for more.


    Compared to the bland, hard rations they had been eating, the meat was a revelation. Following the roasted meat, Michael served a stew made with peppered meat. Even the tough rations softened when soaked in the rich broth, transforming into a meal that was surprisingly enjoyable.


    Once they had experienced good food, the soldiers became motivated. They worked together, eagerly taking initiative, and the procession gradually became more orderly.


    Though the pace remained consistent with the raiding forces they had to keep up with, discipline was finally taking hold. Michael''s efforts paid off, even if it meant using up the bags of salt and pepper he had seized from the village the previous day.


    As good food became available, the soldiers'' opinion of Michael skyrocketed. He transformed in their eyes from a tyrant to a noble benefactor. There was a reason modern armies focused so heavily on improving rations; in the dreariness of military life, good food could be a great morale booster.


    Watching this transformation from the sidelines, Louis was in awe.


    He had learned about using rewards and punishments to command and train soldiers, but this approach was entirely new to him. Watching the soldiers unite and strive to outdo one another impressed him deeply.


    Now Louis understood why his father had sent him to observe Michael.


    At the same time, in the eighth village, Baron Kensington was on the verge of losing his mind.


    There was not a single piece of gold or silver to be found, and the grain storages were completely empty. It was as though the fanatics had suddenly developed foresight, fleeing with all their belongings.


    Every village they raided was the same. This was the third village in a row to yield no spoils.


    During reconnaissance, the fanatics had appeared to be aimlessly wandering about like zombies, and the villages had seemed untouched. What could have caused such a drastic change?


    Now, with nothing to show for their efforts, Baron Kendington and the raiding troops could only stare blankly at one another. It was maddening.


    While Michael pressed ahead with his training and the Small Nobles'' Alliance raiding forces were steeped in frustration, Leonardo, a priest of the Outer Faith, was enduring his own torment.

 Chapter 41 Whats Going On?

    Not only had he failed to rescue the goddess, but he had been captured and was now at the mercy of a monstrous man¡ªif the creature could even be called human.''How did I end up here?'' Leonardo lamented, tears streaming down his face. "Goddess, please forgive your unworthy servant!"


    If there were anyone left in the world still unyielding in their faith, Leonardo wished he could introduce them to this monstrous elder. A few beatings, and they too would abandon all convictions, pleading for mercy as he had.


    Alfred, the monstrous elder, watched Leonardo mutter with disdain. Leonardo, trembling under Alfred''s sharp gaze, hurried to organize his subordinates to carry the loot.


    All the storage pouches were now full, leaving them no choice but to use the corpses to transport more goods. His loyal followers had been reduced to mere porters.


    The humiliation was unbearable.


    ''Damn monster!'' Leonardo thought, glancing nervously at Alfred.


    As if it weren''t enough to be dragged along like a sack of grain, Leonardo was now forced to scavenge every village they passed, gathering anything of value with the skeletons and zombies under his command.


    He felt utterly defeated and dejected.


    ''One day, I''ll rescue the goddess and escape this monster''s grasp.''


    No matter what plans Leonardo devised, Alfred paid him no mind. To Alfred, Leonardo was nothing more than a bonus gift for his grandson.


    Unintentionally intercepting all the spoils meant for the Small Nobles'' Alliance, Alfred was quite satisfied with the treasures he had amassed for his grandson.


    Oblivious to his new role as a "buy-one-get-one-free" gift, Leonardo worked tirelessly. Not that it mattered¡ªknowing wouldn''t improve his situation anyway.


    Baron Kensington and the other nobles returned empty-handed, their expressions laden with disappointment and frustration.


    As the army marched onward, Michael managed to slip away from Louis and his escort knights, approaching the Baron with concern.


    "What happened? Why have you come back empty-handed?"


    "Ah... It seems those fanatics have finally caught on. They''ve disappeared, taking all their valuables with them. Even the granaries were completely empty. I suppose this is the end of it," the Baron replied with a weary sigh.


    "Don''t give up yet," Michael suggested. "Tomorrow, focus on smaller villages. They likely didn''t have time to send their followers to collect everything from those."


    Baron Kensington''s eyes lit up at the suggestion.


    Of course! Smaller villages, ones not connected to major roads, were bound to have something worth taking.


    Michael then briefed the Baron on the training conducted that day. As the leader of the Alliance, the Baron deserved respect, even if his performance left much to be desired.


    Unimpressed but unwilling to bother further, Kensington dismissed Michael, instructing him to manage things until the supply unit rejoined the main forces. For good measure, he gave Michael the nominal title of deputy commander to make his authority clear.


    That evening, Count Charles scouted for the next campsite, growing increasingly anxious.


    With the fanatics spreading like a plague, there was no telling when they might invade his lands. Yet, the army''s sluggish pace made him uneasy.


    At this rate, it would take them five days to cover a mere 40 kilometers.


    Calling for Louis''s escort knight, Chris, the Count inquired about the cause of the delays.


    "So, what''s slowing the supply unit down?"


    Chris hesitated before responding. "It''s... a dire situation, my lord. The wagons are being pulled by people, not animals, and the majority of the soldiers are untrained serfs. Naturally, their pace is slow. Honestly, I didn''t understand it at first, but after observing their efforts, I can see they''re all trying their best."


    Chris, who had been impressed by Michael''s tireless efforts during the training exercises, unintentionally found himself defending the young knight. Unlike the older knights, who idled at the rear of the convoy, Michael had been the only one actively managing the soldiers.


    Unbeknownst to Chris, the older knights were absent because they were busy pillaging. With everyone''s stories aligned, Chris had no reason to doubt the narrative.


    Hearing this, Count Charles had no choice but to pray the fanatics wouldn''t descend upon his lands.


    In truth, Charles had little reason to worry. The fanatics had no plans to approach his domain, as their appearance was part of the Lumina Holy Nation''s grand scheme.


    Three days earlier, Orpheus, the sub-priest, had been in a secret meeting with Xenon, the leader of the Seventh Holy Knights, dispatched by the Holy Nation. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    According to the original plan, Count Charles''s punitive force should have arrived by now and engaged the fanatics in battle. However, the punitive force was nowhere to be seen.


    Their arrival was crucial to the Holy Nation''s agenda¡ªa grand spectacle to announce the revival of the Lumina faith.


    Growing impatient with the punitive force''s snail-like pace, Orpheus decided to deal with a thorn in his side in the meantime.


    Sliding a pouch of 10,000 gold coins across the table to Xenon, Orpheus said, "I hope this will suffice."


    Xenon peeked inside the pouch and smiled broadly. "Ha! You certainly know how to make a point. Now, tell me about this so-called priest."


    Orpheus, relieved that his gesture had been well-received, explained, "I regret to inform you that I let that corpse peddler slip away. I''ve found someone to impersonate him for now, but if he resurfaces, it could become problematic."


    "Hmm. So you need him captured and eliminated?" Xenon asked, his tone casual.


    "Yes," Orpheus replied, feigning remorse. "At first, I thought he might have caught on and fled, but upon reflection, it seems more likely that he''s returned to that wretched fragment of the Outer God he worships. He''s been known to offer sacrifices there on occasion."


    Xenon nodded in understanding. With the hefty bribe in hand, there was no reason to refuse. He had also brought a sacred relic designed to detect traces of the Outer God, so the timing was perfect.


    "I''ll handle it," Xenon assured him. "Fortunately, His Holiness granted me a relic capable of sensing the presence of the Outer God. It will make the task much simpler."


    Xenon''s connection to the Holy Nation''s pope was well-known, as was the nepotism within the church''s upper echelons.

 Chapter 42 Maybe An Opportunity

    Flattering Xenon, Orpheus said, "Your Excellency, you truly embody the grace of Lumina. I''m in awe of your wisdom and power."Pleased by the praise, Xenon tucked the pouch into his sleeve and stood. "Then I''ll begin immediately. Lend me 300 of your sturdier fanatics. I''d rather not waste my knights on this task."


    Orpheus led Xenon out of the chamber, the two discussing their next steps. While Orpheus had little faith in Xenon''s abilities, he trusted in the relic''s power.


    Now, their only remaining task was to find and eliminate the Outer God''s fragment while waiting for the punitive force to arrive.


    Entering the forest, Xenon activated the sacred relic. The device, resembling a compass, emitted a faint glow and a subtle vibration.


    Three distinct signals appeared.


    Xenon frowned. Why were there three traces of the Outer God?


    The closest one, he reasoned, was likely the blood-marked target. Another must belong to the fragment of the Outer God accompanying the priest. But what of the third?


    Did this mean another trace of the Outer God had appeared within a 300-kilometer radius?


    That would complicate things.


    "Ah, I see now," Xenon muttered, studying the relic closely.


    One of the signals was weak, suggesting it merely marked an item imbued with the Outer God''s essence. That could wait. After dealing with the fragment, Xenon planned to retrieve the item and sell it at auction¡ªthere was always a market for such relics.


    Focusing on the relic''s guidance, Xenon began moving deeper into the forest, followed by his knights, 300 fanatics, and priests tasked with controlling the fanatics.


    Among the group was Albert, a bald former bandit who had unexpectedly found himself ordained as a priest of the Outer God. Nervous and uneasy, he couldn''t shake the feeling that something was amiss.


    The disappearance of the high priest was suspicious enough, but the man they were now following, appointed by the sub-priest, looked far too much like someone from the Lumina church.


    Albert, the bald man who had once been a bandit and now found himself an unwilling priest of the Outer God, was tense.


    Despite his rough past, he had always adhered to certain principles. Orphaned and raised in the temples of the Lumina Church, he could recognize the signs others might miss. The silver armor adorned with the church''s sacred insignia was unmistakable.


    He held his breath as dread washed over him.


    Though he had chosen this path in the hopes of helping bring about change, as his former leader had envisioned, things had taken a darker turn. His companions were becoming increasingly deranged, and he felt fear tightening its grip around him.


    This wasn''t the life he had wanted. He had to escape¡ªno matter the cost.


    Xenon advanced with the sacred relic in one hand and the hilt of his sword gripped tightly in the other. Three days had passed since he began tracking the aura of the Outer God.


    The accursed aura kept moving, and its path was perplexing.


    Was the priest heading toward the capital with the Outer God fragment in tow?


    The trajectory suggested as much, and that posed a significant problem.


    The punitive force was supposed to stage a grand performance by slaying the fanatics in front of the capital. If the Outer God itself made an appearance, it would create chaos, rendering the situation uncontrollable.


    Xenon needed to resolve this matter before the priest reached the capital. S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The relic''s signal grew stronger with each passing moment, vibrating more intensely to indicate the proximity of the Outer God''s presence. Xenon pressed on, determined to follow the trail.


    Eventually, he stopped in shock. From a distance, he could see the punitive force''s encampment.


    What was this incompetent priest doing here?


    Could he be hiding among the troops, disguised as one of them?


    Xenon deliberated for a moment before reaching a conclusion: this might actually be an opportunity.


    By orchestrating a small skirmish to draw part of the punitive force into danger, he could then "rescue" them with his knights and gain their trust. Once embedded within the troops, he could discreetly locate and eliminate the Outer God and its priest.


    With the sacred relic in hand, this plan seemed feasible.


    After discussing the plan with his subordinates, Xenon selected a priest of the Outer God to carry out the task. It was the bald one¡ªAlbert¡ªwhose audacity to meet his gaze directly had irked him from the beginning.


    The next morning, Baron Kensington and Michael decided to demonstrate progress by increasing the supply unit''s marching pace by one kilometer per day. The move was meant to impress Louis and his escort knights.


    Michael made a deliberate show of bustling around the camp, urging soldiers to hurry, all while Louis and Chris observed.


    The soldiers played along, motivated by the knowledge that more spoils would mean larger rewards for themselves. Their performance grew increasingly convincing by the day.


    Watching the chaotic yet strangely effective preparations, Louis and Chris were left speechless. Managing to safely transport supplies under such conditions, without deserters or major incidents, was a feat in itself.


    Louis''s admiration for Michael deepened. What had initially been a superficial desire to befriend him had transformed into genuine respect. According to the rules of nobility, the more competent allies one had, the better.


    Despite increasing the pace, they delayed their departure from camp as much as possible. They needed time to ensure the raiding knights had returned before the supply unit arrived at the next campsite.


    Half a day passed as other units moved ahead. Finally, the supply unit began its slow march, prompting Baron Kensington and his knights to slip away to their next raid.


    Michael, watching his father depart once again to earn their keep, sighed and returned to training the soldiers.


    Using wagons as props, the training focused on building strength and teamwork. They practiced maneuvering through difficult terrain, defending the wagons, and maintaining formation.


    By noon, the soldiers had improved remarkably. No one had to endure the punishment of skipping meals¡ªa significant achievement.


    Everyone shared hearty bowls of porridge enriched with meat, eating together in good spirits. Michael joined them, eating the same meal as the soldiers.

 Chapter 43 Paolo Fiery End

    After finishing his meal, Michael stood to enjoy a cup of tea when a soldier came rushing toward him, looking panicked. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality."Sir! A situation, sir!"


    The soldier was unfamiliar to Michael.


    "I¡ªI went to fetch water and saw something strange in the forest. A group of fanatics performing a ritual!"


    "Are you certain?" Michael asked, his tone sharp.


    "Yes, sir! They were definitely fanatics. Their faces were painted red, and they were dancing. I saw it clearly!"


    Michael scrutinized the soldier. He was a bald man with a well-fed appearance, his head flushed red with excitement, his lips glistening with saliva as he spoke.


    "Hmm. I see. Were there many of them?"


    "No, sir. Just a few. If you send the knights, they''ll be easy to handle!"


    Michael''s interest faded. So, there really were forces foolish enough to use such incompetent spies.


    The soldiers of the Fifth Legion had long been trained to speak with precise responses. The bald man''s clumsy attempt at subterfuge only solidified Michael''s suspicion.


    Sending knights into the forest now, in response to such a dubious report, was too convenient a trap.


    "Well done," Michael said, feigning approval. "You''ve earned your reward. Kneel."


    The bald man obeyed, kneeling before Michael. With a subtle signal, Michael gestured to Julian and Alex, who quickly bound and gagged the man before he could utter a sound.


    Once the spy was secured, Michael issued orders to the camp.


    "All units, prepare for defense! Soldiers, form a defensive square around the wagons and stay vigilant. We will maintain this formation as we move."


    If the enemy intended to lure them into the forest, it was imperative to secure their position and leave the area as quickly as possible. In war, seizing the advantageous ground was always the priority.


    From his hiding spot in the underbrush, Xenon waited for the knights to charge into the forest. His plan was to rescue them from the chaos and emerge as a hero.


    But as time passed, no one came.


    "What... what is going on?" Xenon muttered, baffled by the turn of events.


    The priest of the Lumina Church, Paolo, who had accompanied Xenon on this mission, felt like he was at the end of his rope.


    The boy named Michael seemed far too timid to be coaxed into the forest. At first glance, Michael had appeared inexperienced and young¡ªsomeone who would easily take the bait and rush in. Paolo had been certain he would leap at the chance to claim glory.


    Who could have predicted that this cowardly boy would refuse an opportunity to make a name for himself?


    Initially, Xenon, the captain of the Holy Knights, had been pleased with the plan and confident in its success. But as time dragged on, his face darkened, eventually turning crimson with rage.


    Six hours had passed since Paolo had used the blood sigil to incite the fanatics into a frenzy. For those six hours, the priests had danced themselves to exhaustion. Many of the frenzied fanatics now teetered on the edge of collapse, their bodies giving out under the strain of the life-force-draining rituals.


    Paolo glanced at the fanatics, their veins rupturing from the strain, and felt like crying. He couldn''t let this continue any longer.


    Magic that drained vitality always carried consequences. These fanatics would soon fall dead if nothing changed.


    Paolo hesitated, torn between waiting or launching a direct attack on the supply unit.


    Drawing the enemy into the advantageous terrain of the forest seemed impossible now. The enemy numbered 1,200. Attacking with 300 fanatics in the forest against a smaller group of knights was one thing, but confronting a combined force of knights and soldiers on open ground would be suicide.


    If the supply unit prevailed, any reinforcements arriving later would seem opportunistic rather than heroic. Paolo had no desire to risk his life under such circumstances.


    But retreating now would mean abandoning the frenzied fanatics. What would happen to them? Was he supposed to bury all 300 of them in the forest, having accomplished nothing?


    While he wrestled with his options, the decision was taken out of his hands.


    Xenon stormed over, unable to contain his frustration any longer.


    "Brother Paolo, what is the meaning of this? Your ''brilliant'' plan has backfired and left us stuck here! What will you do if these fanatics lose control and die on the spot? Take responsibility now! Set those wretched fanatics ablaze and use them to inflict damage! There are supplies and fodder stockpiled with the enemy¡ªwhy haven''t you considered using fire? Or is it that you value your miserable life too much to act? Fool! If you don''t want me to kill you myself, charge at them now!"


    Paolo felt a wave of injustice wash over him. It was Xenon who had come up with the plan in the first place; he had only added a few details to flesh it out.


    But who could argue against the one holding the higher rank?


    "A hypocrite through and through! May the gods curse him!" Paolo cursed silently, though he was in no position to criticize. After all, he had been instrumental in turning ordinary villagers into fanatics.


    When one''s own life was on the line, however, perspectives changed.


    Forced to charge at the enemy, Paolo cursed his fate. I should have just launched a direct attack! At least then I wouldn''t have to die!


    The fanatics, their expressions blank, doused themselves with oil. Once they exited the forest, they would set themselves alight.


    Leading the charge, tears streaming down his face, Paolo sprinted ahead, drenched in holy oil. But what greeted him left him stunned.


    The enemy, whom he had expected to remain huddled defensively, was nowhere to be seen.


    They''re gone!


    Why had he assumed they would stay in place?


    As Paolo and Xenon waited futilely for the enemy to approach, the supply unit had long since departed.


    Paolo turned to retreat, but it was too late. Around him, human torches began to ignite. The fanatics, having left the forest, were setting themselves on fire.


    "No! Stop! Don''t come near me! No!!!"


    The fanatics¡ªno, the brainwashed villagers¡ªadvanced toward Paolo, their bodies engulfed in flames.


    Whether their actions were driven by revenge or madness, they smiled as they burned, advancing toward the man who had destroyed their simple lives.

 Chapter 44 The Lumina Holy Nation

    From a distance, Xenon watched Paolo meet his fiery end. He dusted off his sleeves and turned away."What a fool," he muttered.


    This simple task had been completely botched. Xenon had hoped to appear as a hero, celebrated and admired. Instead, this failure would mar the Lumina Church''s century-long plan, one centered on the power of the blood sigil.


    His fury grew as he recalled the young commander of the supply unit. That impudent brat! S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Xenon seethed at the thought of having been outmaneuvered. The inability to deploy wyverns for reconnaissance while hiding in the forest had cost him dearly. Had he been able to use them, this humiliation could have been avoided.


    Drawing a holy sign and composing himself, Xenon began gathering his comrades to devise their next move.


    "All glory to Lumina!"


    "All glory to Lumina!"


    "Let there be light!"


    Meanwhile, Michael continued advancing his wagons, maintaining a square formation and keeping a vigilant eye on the surroundings. The entire supply convoy had long since left the forest behind.


    Far behind them, smoke rose from where the spy had been captured.


    Of course they''d resort to fire, Michael thought, noting the large quantities of food and fodder the enemy had likely set ablaze. He praised his own quick thinking for avoiding the ambush and pressed on.


    There was no time to concern himself with the knights who had gone raiding. He had left a trail marked with spices for the Great Worm to follow, ensuring they could catch up.


    Knowing there were enemies on their tail, Michael focused on finding a suitable location to establish a defensive position. In war, securing advantageous ground was paramount.


    Before long, they found the perfect site for a stronghold.


    It was a natural fortress, surrounded on three sides by steep cliffs, with only one narrow entry point.


    Michael quickly gave orders for the soldiers to begin fortifying the area.


    The first task was to fell nearby trees to create a wooden barrier. The strong wooden walls would encircle the camp, providing much-needed protection.


    The soldiers moved efficiently, following Michael''s instructions with precision. The chaotic, undisciplined group they had once been was a distant memory.


    Finally, Michael instructed the soldiers to build a watchtower slightly taller than the barricades, using earth and wood at the cliff''s edge. From there, they could monitor the surrounding area and anticipate any attacks.


    The watchtower was intended to monitor enemy movements and, if necessary, fire arrows. By the time darkness fell, the fortress was nearly complete.


    Michael ordered the soldiers to rest and ensured they were well-fed. The soldiers ate hurriedly, their faces resolute.


    Having pushed and pulled wagons together, they had forged strong camaraderie. Once merely comrades-in-arms, they now trusted one another like brothers.


    After finishing his meal, Michael climbed the watchtower to survey the camp. Satisfied with the orderliness, he instructed his squire, Alex, to bring the bald spy captured earlier in the day.


    Albert, the former bandit turned fanatic priest, was dragged in, bound and bent awkwardly like a shrimp. His face was a mess of tears and snot, and though he tried to scream, the gag reduced his cries to incoherent sounds.


    With a calm demeanor, Michael directed that Albert be tied to a chair. Then, he began pulling tools out of his bag one by one.


    Finally, the lessons Michael''s grandfather had taught him as a child¡ªhow to use pliers¡ªwould come in handy. Although he hadn''t directly learned these techniques, the memories were clear. What difference did it make, anyway? He carried the same soul, didn''t he?


    Humming a tune, Michael took out a pair of pliers, wire cutters, a hammer, a soldering iron, and a hook, laying them out in an orderly manner.


    Albert squirmed in his bindings. Why is this knight smiling? Why is he humming? And why are torture tools spilling out of his bag?!


    With a pleased expression, Michael picked up the hook. Albert, realizing he was about to be hoisted by his collarbone and hung from the ceiling, struggled desperately.


    "Please! I''ll tell you everything! Just take the gag off! Shouldn''t you ask questions before you start torturing me? Isn''t that the proper order of things?"


    Michael paused, realizing he hadn''t started with questions.


    "Ah, my apologies. It''s my first time, and I got a little carried away. So, what should I ask first?"


    The moment the gag was removed, Albert began babbling at high speed, terrified the smiling knight might gag him again.


    "Everything! I''ll tell you everything! Please, just spare me! I''m from Sorel, a domain on the western edge of the Kingdom of Lania. My father and mother died in a war with the neighboring domain when I was a child..."


    Albert''s lengthy personal history soon turned into a ramble. But when Michael''s gaze grew sharp and impatient, Albert quickly got to the point.


    "After that, I became a bandit and lived well enough until one day, this guy Leonardo showed up. He said he was starting some religion and... uh, his subordinate, I think his name was Orpheus or something¡ªthe sub-priest¡ªanyway..."


    Michael sighed. So much for testing the pliers handed down through generations. He hadn''t even had a chance to squeeze a single finger, and Albert was already spilling his secrets like a flood.


    "So, after Leonardo disappeared, the sub-priest ordered you to travel with the Holy Knights? Are you certain they''re Holy Knights?"


    "Yes, yes! Without a doubt. I grew up in a temple of the Lumina Church, so I can recognize their armor and insignias anywhere. Those knights are definitely from the Lumina Church."


    "Hmm..."


    Michael nodded. The story was plausible. From the blood sigil''s appearance to the Holy Nation''s swift involvement, things had felt suspicious from the start.


    Now, with Albert''s testimony, Michael''s suspicions were confirmed. This so-called fanatic uprising was a fabrication orchestrated by the Lumina Holy Nation.


    Thinking of the continent''s current state¡ªwhere royal authority and religious power clashed¡ªand recalling the ruined Crowley Barony and its innocent people, Michael felt a surge of anger.

 Chapter 45 No Matter How You Look At It Miaomiao Is Just A Cat

    But what was done was done. Spilled water couldn''t be scooped back up.After a moment of mourning, Michael began calculating how best to use this situation to benefit himself and his territory.


    Exposing the Holy Nation''s scheme wasn''t an option. He lacked hard evidence, and his sole witness was a former bandit turned fanatic priest. Such claims would earn him nothing but ridicule¡ªor worse, an assassination attempt.


    Michael thought back to his previous life. Adhering strictly to principles had earned him nothing but mocking nicknames like "pedantic" or "clueless." Back then, being alone, he could afford to rebel passively against society. But now, he had too much to lose: his family, his territory, and his people.


    As a noble opposing the Holy Nation''s influence, expanding his domain and increasing his power would strike a far greater blow against them than any public expos¨¦.


    Still, Michael felt relieved to learn there was no immediate threat of a fanatic attack. According to Albert, the blood sigil''s effects lasted only six hours, after which the fanatics would collapse, lifeless. Enough time had passed that they were surely corpses by now.


    With his mind made up, Michael ordered Albert to be tied up in a corner of the camp and left the tent. It was time to focus solely on his own gains and those of his territory.


    Meanwhile, Baron Crasus, consumed with worry for his son, arrived at a frantic pace.


    Michael was his only remaining heir¡ªa capable and precious child he cherished above all else. When the Great Worm detected the danger signal left by the spices, the Baron had rushed toward the source in a state of panic.


    His anxiety only subsided when he saw the fortified camp. Spotting his son among the vigilant soldiers, he examined Michael carefully, ensuring he was unhurt.


    "What happened here?" the Baron asked, relief evident in his voice.


    Michael smiled at his father''s concern. There was no need to share the day''s revelations. In an era dominated by religion, Michael could process events rationally thanks to his modern mindset, but his father might not see things the same way. It was better to control variables whenever possible.


    "We encountered an attempt by fanatics to lure us into the forest. Fortunately, we spotted it in advance and avoided the area. I decided it was better to secure a favorable defensive position and prepare for a potential ambush rather than pushing to rejoin the main force immediately."


    "Well done," the Baron replied with a nod. "From tomorrow, we should focus on advancing. It seems there are no more villages worth stopping for."


    Shortly afterward, the other knights and Baron Kensington arrived. Hearing Michael''s account, they agreed with the decision to prioritize movement over further raids.


    With plans made for the next day, everyone dispersed to their tents.


    Michael, after assigning soldiers to keep watch, retired to his own tent. Exhausted, he quickly fell into a deep sleep.


    Hours later, he was jolted awake by a frantic voice.


    His face stung for some reason.


    "Wake up, Michael, you fool! Wake up right now!"


    Miaomiao was speaking human words, smacking Michael''s cheeks relentlessly with its paws.


    Is this... a dream?


    A winding dirt path stretched ahead, narrow and overgrown, far removed from the polished, packed trails where the wagons of the supply unit had passed. Following Miaomiao''s directions, Michael veered onto the smaller path, sprinting swiftly through the shadows of overhanging branches.


    In the distance, lights flickered¡ªa campsite.


    "That''s them, right? The Holy Knights with the relic that can detect me?" Michael asked, his voice low.


    [That''s right,] Miaomiao replied. [If they come to your camp, join forces with your group, and discover you, it''ll be a disaster. You need to either destroy that relic or deal with those knights first.]


    "How many knights are there?"


    [From what I can sense, about 50. That''s an entire division¡ªstubborn, relentless, and annoyingly persistent.]


    Michael exhaled deeply. A talking cat seemed strange enough, but the revelation that an Outer God had partially merged with him wasn''t all that shocking anymore.


    He had suspected something like this for a while, but Miaomiao?


    The self proclaimed ancient divine beast insisted it was a being of immeasurable greatness, but no matter how Michael looked at it, Miaomiao was just a cat.


    From behind them, a wheezing voice interrupted his thoughts.


    "Ah, Lady Nephertari, I can''t run anymore. Just kill me and drag me along!"


    [You fool, Hoff! This is your fault. Who told you to team up with Alfred and summon an Outer God? This is your mess too, so take responsibility! Now, stop whining and come here!]


    Hoff, an old man with a trembling white beard, looked as though he might collapse. Like Michael, he had been unceremoniously dragged from his sleep for this mission.


    Michael glanced at Hoff, his lips twitching into a wry smile. "Grandpa Hoff, we can see the knights now. You don''t have to run anymore. Just lower your voice and come this way quietly."


    Hoff eyed Michael warily. Ever since learning that an Outer God had partially merged with him, the old man had been on edge.


    [Oh, you exasperating old fool! I told you, Michael is fine! The Outer God and Michael''s soul are separated. Why are you still hesitating?!]


    Hoff muttered under his breath, shuffling forward hesitantly. Frustrated, Miaomiao thumped its little paws against its chest, an act that only made it look cuter.


    [Hurry up! I need to cast the sleep spell, and you need to get closer for that! Now, come closer so I can jump onto your shoulder.]


    "Couldn''t Lady Nephertari just come here herself instead?" Hoff muttered, his tone tinged with rebellion.


    Miaomiao leaped onto Hoff''s shoulder, grabbing his white beard and tugging with surprising strength.


    [There! I came to you, just like you wanted, you miserable fool!]


    "Ah, mercy, Lady Nephertari! Please be gentle!"


    "Could you both please lower your voices?" Michael muttered, exasperated by their antics. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After the brief commotion, Miaomiao created a protective barrier around herself and Hoff. Though she claimed it was a Sphinx-like ability, it didn''t seem magical¡ªit was as if they simply vanished from existence.

 Chapter 46 Damn Corpse Peddler!

    With this near-invisibility, they crept toward the Holy Knights'' campsite.As they approached, Hoff began murmuring incantations, pulling out strange powder and scattering it into the air. His legs trembled under the strain, but he kept at it until he finally shouted the spell''s trigger word:


    "Dormi!"


    The powder shimmered, glowing faintly as it dispersed across the campsite. The knights, previously standing watch around the campfires with bored expressions, began collapsing one by one, falling into a deep sleep where they stood.


    A hush fell over the camp, broken only by the crackling of the fires.


    Hoff exhaled deeply, surveying the scene with satisfaction. His spell had worked. Finally, he could relax without fear of Miaomiao''s constant berating.


    Or so he thought.


    Miaomiao, still perched on Hoff''s shoulder, yanked his beard again.


    [You fool! Don''t relax now! This isn''t over! Find the relic and destroy it!]


    With a resigned sigh, Hoff began picking his way through the camp, careful not to step on the slumbering knights. The flickering campfires provided just enough light to guide his steps.


    [Hurry up, Hoff! We don''t have much time!] Miaomiao urged.


    "Lady Miaomiao¡ªuh, Lady Nephertari¡ªperhaps if you were quieter, I could work faster," Hoff grumbled.


    [Who are you calling Miaomiao?! I''m Nephertari, you fool! Wait, what?!]


    Miaomiao fell silent, seemingly confused by its own identity crisis.


    At last, they reached the largest tent in the camp¡ªthe commander''s. If the relic was anywhere, it would be here.


    Quietly, they entered the tent. On the cot lay a middle-aged knight with graying hair, deep in slumber.


    Miaomiao tapped Hoff''s shoulder with her paw.


    [Alright, search that big, fluffy lump. He must have it on him.]


    "Did you have to phrase it like that? Couldn''t you just say ''conduct a search'' or something?"


    [Stop complaining! I don''t want to touch that furball myself!]


    Sighing, Hoff trudged forward. Fortunately, the knight wasn''t wearing his armor¡ªit seemed even knights didn''t sleep in such discomfort.


    Carefully, Hoff searched the knight''s clothing. After a moment, he felt something odd in one of the chest pockets. Reaching in deeper, he pulled out a small leather pouch.


    "There''s something here," Hoff whispered.


    [Open it!]


    Inside, he found an ancient compass-like object, engraved with intricate runes. The needle glowed faintly, pointing directly at the location where Michael was hiding.


    They''d found it!


    [That''s the relic! Be careful not to touch it with your bare hands.]


    "So, we destroy it, right?" Hoff asked. "We should make sure there''s no trace left¡ªno evidence pointing to us."


    [That''s the tricky part,] Miaomiao admitted. [Let''s regroup with Michael and figure it out together. Three heads are better than one!]


    "If only Alfred were here," Hoff muttered as he carefully placed the relic in his robe''s inner pocket, using gloved hands to avoid direct contact. He even slipped a small pebble into the commander''s pouch where the relic had been, ensuring nothing seemed amiss.


    [Exactly! Where has that man gone, leaving me to babysit humans? It''s an outrage! A Sphinx should live a life of leisure and dignity, not chaos and chores!] Miaomiao retorted, licking its paw in a show of indignation.


    Rejoining Michael, who had been waiting in the thicket, the group made their way out of the forest as quickly as possible. The sleeping knights would wake soon, and there was no time to waste.


    Back at the camp, the trio gathered in Hoff''s tent. With Michael''s squires present in his own, Hoff''s was the safest choice for their discussion.


    [Now, we need to destroy this thing!] Miaomiao declared, pointing at the relic.


    "Why don''t you return to your true form, Lady Nephertari? Wouldn''t that make it easier?" Hoff suggested.


    [Nephertari. Not "Lady Miaomiao." Ugh, whatever.] The cat sighed in frustration. [If I use my true form, the Holy Knights will sense the power surge immediately and come straight here. Use your brain, old man!]


    "Then why didn''t we destroy it on the spot?" Hoff grumbled.


    [Because the knights would''ve woken up and attacked us, you fool! Honestly, you''re hopeless!] Miaomiao batted Hoff with her paw in mock frustration.


    As the cat chastised the old man, Michael extended his hand toward the relic.


    [Wait! Don''t touch it with your bare hands! It''ll¡ªwait, what?]


    The relic, once solid and foreboding, crumbled to dust the moment Michael touched it. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    [Activation conditions met. Absorbing magical energy. Absorption complete. Insufficient conditions to use abilities. Shutting down function.]


    A warm energy flowed into Michael, filling him with a sense of calm. As I thought, he mused, a slight smile playing on his lips.


    "Penelope, how many times can I use abilities with the energy absorbed from this?" he asked inwardly.


    [With this amount of energy, you can use abilities seven times.]


    Seven?! Michael could barely contain his excitement. It was like absorbing the power of a thousand mana stones in one go. He suppressed an urge to raid every temple for their relics. Knowing the mechanism now, he planned to target high-quality remains to absorb in the future.


    The problem was finding someone truly powerful among the condemned. Given the randomness of absorption, even executing a skilled individual might result in useless abilities. Michael decided to simply absorb the condemned as he encountered them, leaving the selection to chance¡ªor perhaps research the graves of previously executed figures.


    Lost in thought, Michael was interrupted by Hoff''s frantic voice.


    "Michael, did you... did you just accept the power of the Outer God? This is terrible! Absolutely catastrophic!"


    Hoff paced the tent nervously, his hands tugging at his beard. Miaomiao rolled its eyes and tried to calm him.


    [It''s fine. Even trash can be useful in the right circumstances. Besides, Alfred is already looking for a way to seal the Outer God tied to Michael.]


    Hoff''s frantic movements slowed as he absorbed Miaomiao''s words.


    "What does it mean to accept the power of the Outer God?" Michael asked, turning to the cat.


    [Outer Gods tempt their believers by granting power. The type of power depends on the god. Usually, it''s an ability that elevates their divine status.]


    "How does that power manifest?" Michael pressed.


    [It varies. Some humans claim to have been seduced by a divine beauty, while others say a god descended directly.]

 Chapter 47 Never Seen A Cat Eat?

    Michael frowned in thought. Was it because of his modern mindset that the power manifested as a game-like system?"And this sealing business," Michael began. "If the Outer God is sealed, do I lose the abilities it granted?"


    Miaomiao let out a derisive snort. [Worried about losing your precious powers? Relax. Even if the god is sealed or destroyed, the abilities remain. The power has already been severed from the god, so it''s independent now. Many so-called ''heroes'' of old received their abilities this way. It''s a double-edged sword, though. The stronger the Outer God, the harder it is to seal. For a fragment like this one, a high priest with the right relics can destroy it. If it''s the god''s main body, only someone on the level of the pope can do it. And if the god descends in full, you''d need another god''s core to seal it. Judging by the strength of the relic we destroyed, the god tied to you is strong. Alfred will have his hands full.]


    Miaomiao finished with a mischievous chuckle.


    She enjoys Grandpa''s suffering, doesn''t she? Michael thought with a sigh.


    Hoff, shaking his head at their casual attitudes, muttered to himself, "Young people these days¡ªthey don''t seem afraid of anything."


    With Hoff still fretting, Michael and Miaomiao returned to their respective tents. The night was giving way to dawn, and some problems were best left for time to resolve.


    Meanwhile, back at the Holy Knights'' camp, chaos reigned.


    "It''s gone! Gone, I tell you! That damned corpse peddler¡ªI''ll kill him myself!!!"


    Xenon''s furious screams echoed through the forest as he cursed Leonardo for the vanished relic.


    At the same moment Xenon was throwing a fit, cursing Leonardo and hurling objects around his tent in a rage, the so-called "corpse peddler" was being carried along on the shoulders of an old man who resembled a monster.


    Surprisingly, Leonardo had begun to grow comfortable with the arrangement. The old man''s broad shoulders were stable, his stride steady and swift. It wasn''t much different from being carried by a corpse golem, after all. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Perhaps it was Leonardo''s survival instincts, honed by years of enduring an abusive upbringing, that allowed him to adapt so quickly. Still, his thoughts strayed to the goddess he had been trying to protect. Her presence was growing fainter, and he feared she might soon fade entirely. He had to find her a new host body.


    But trapped as he was, his options were limited.


    Leonardo decided to try reasoning with the old man carrying him.


    "Sir, if I may, there''s a safe house within this territory where I keep my artifacts. You must be hungry, no? I left a meal untouched because I was called away by the goddess so abruptly. It''s probably still fresh. I even used a magical tray to preserve it. You don''t have to worry about hygiene¡ªone of my many talents back when I was a celebrated artisan. Before I became a necromancer, I crafted artifacts for prominent lords. My skill in working with corpses eventually surpassed my craftsmanship, so I shifted careers, but my reputation as an artisan was notable. If we could visit, I promise it wouldn''t interfere with your plans. Quite the opposite, actually¡ªit might help."


    Leonardo''s ability to ramble was impressive, especially while hanging upside down.


    The old man, Alfred, glanced at him with mild disdain but chose to ignore him. This one can''t be trusted, Alfred thought.


    Frustrated by Alfred''s silence, Leonardo became increasingly desperate. If he could just lure the old man to his safe house, he could activate the traps he had prepared there and eliminate him!


    "Sir, please. There are so many precious artifacts there. Leaving them would be a waste. By the way, how old do you think I am? I look like I''m in my twenties, don''t I? Actually, I''m over forty. I even have an artifact that restores youth! Judging by your imposing figure and sharp features, I''d wager you''ve made your share of women cry. With my artifact, you could¡ª"


    Before Leonardo could finish, Alfred smacked him into silence.


    Alfred had tolerated the man thus far because his summoned undead were performing their roles as porters adequately. But this incessant chatter had pushed him to his limit.


    Leonardo let out a muffled cry and fell limp. The undead, fortunately, continued their march undeterred.


    Good. Now this is more tolerable.


    As Alfred quickened his pace, the ribbon around Miaomiao''s neck swayed, indicating the direction they needed to go.


    Meanwhile, Michael''s day began on a lighter note. After completing his morning routine, his first order of business was to feed Miaomiao the special meal he had promised¡ªbeef.


    As Miaomiao ate noisily, Michael found himself reflecting on the events of the previous day.


    So it wasn''t a dream.


    [What are you staring at? Never seen a cat eat?] Miaomiao shot him a glance before returning to its meal.


    After finishing, the cat cleaned its face meticulously with its paw before hopping onto Michael''s shoulder.


    Talking cat or not, Miaomiao was still just Miaomiao. Michael decided it was better this way. If she could speak, she could be useful, and that was what mattered.


    Several hours into their march, Michael finally relaxed. The Holy Knights hadn''t uncovered his involvement in the theft of their relic.


    [See? I told you no one would figure it out. They underestimated the wisdom of the great Sphinx. Next time, listen to me.]


    "What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three legs in the evening?" Michael asked suddenly.


    [Wait... give me a second.] Miaomiao''s brow furrowed in concentration.


    Amused, Michael left the cat to ponder the riddle as they continued toward Count Charles''s camp. By the time they arrived, the sun was setting.


    Having already sent word of their delayed arrival, Michael''s group was warmly received.


    "I''m glad you arrived safely. I heard there was trouble, but Sir Michael handled it admirably," Count Charles said with a smile.

 Chapter 48 End of Times

    Several eyewitnesses had seen the forest burning and heard the commotion after Michael''s group left. Michael''s capture of the spy had only bolstered his reputation."Yes, I was tending to the beasts at the time, so I wasn''t in the thick of it. But Sir Michael truly did an excellent job," Baron Kensington added, his tone full of praise.


    Michael felt the growing admiration in the gazes of Count Charles and Baron Kensington. The way they looked at him was almost unnerving, as if they were ready to marry him off immediately to secure an alliance.


    In a society where political marriages solidified alliances, such a possibility was far from unlikely.


    Michael quietly moved closer to his father.


    "Father, please don''t let them pressure you. I''d prefer to find a match once my position is more stable," Michael whispered.


    Baron Crassus gave his son a startled look.


    "What nonsense are you talking about? A baron''s daughter? Ridiculous. As for Count Charles, all his legitimate daughters are already married. The only one left is an illegitimate child posing as a proper daughter. Your marriage will be decided with care, balancing the needs of our territory and your personal gains. Besides, your grandfather is... well, never mind. Don''t worry about it."


    Relieved, Michael nodded. He was still young, and his rank wasn''t insignificant. There was time yet.


    Miaomiao, still puzzling over the riddle, remained unusually quiet. Michael chuckled, patting her head affectionately.


    Since learning that Miaomiao''s true form was a Sphinx and that she had been sent by his grandfather, carrying her on his shoulder had become second nature. She was a dependable guardian.


    After regrouping with his soldiers and his father''s men, Michael resumed training them. This time, he focused on gathering those who had experience with bows.


    Following Johann''s advice, Michael structured the drills with precision, leading to noticeable improvements in efficiency. The abundance of skilled hunters in Crassus territory, where forest hunting was permitted, further bolstered their efforts.


    The archers among Michael''s soldiers were not particularly skilled individually, but rotating their shots in volleys improved their effectiveness. Meanwhile, those with no prior experience in archery practiced advancing in formation and thrusting with spears in unison.


    Michael also had the soldiers form tightly packed defensive squares, shields up, practicing synchronized counterattacks with their spears. The square formation revolved around the wagons, making it a mobile, defensive stronghold.


    By incorporating military drills learned back in the territory, each soldier became more adept at holding their position without disrupting the overall formation. With repetition, the unit began moving as one, visibly gaining confidence.


    Julian, Michael''s squire, meticulously recorded these drills. One day, these techniques would become part of the Crassus family''s military doctrine.


    Julian''s father had essentially pledged his loyalty to the Crassus family when he entrusted his son to Michael''s care. Adding another knight to the family''s retinue was a worthwhile exchange.


    "Michael, come here," Baron Crassus called. "Baron Kensington wants to have a quiet word with us."


    Curious, Michael followed his father to a secluded spot where Kensington awaited them with a mischievous grin.


    "Ah, Michael, my friend! I''ve come upon a fantastic opportunity," Kensington began. "While scouting the area last night, I discovered a mandrake grove near the northern edge of the mountains. It''s about three hours away by griffon flight. It''s not enough for an entire company, but it''s perfect for two families to share. I resisted the urge to harvest it myself and saved it for us. What do you think?"


    Hah. He couldn''t do it alone, so he''s bringing us in, Michael thought, suppressing a smirk.


    Harvesting mandrakes was no small task. It required at least four knights: one to hold the leaves, another to dig, a third to subdue the mandrake the moment it emerged, and a fourth to stand guard. Even with ear protection, the mandrake''s scream was dangerous, so only aura-awakened knights could participate.


    A healer was also essential for emergencies. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Despite the risks, it was an enticing offer. A single mandrake could fetch 300 gold.


    Thus, the mandrake expedition was formed: Michael, his father, Julian''s father Lancaster, Kensington, and the healer Hoff. They slipped out of camp quietly, leaving Julian and Sir Ronald, a strong but not-so-bright knight, to maintain order.


    Meanwhile, Xenon and the Holy Knights trudged back toward the Crowley Barony in defeat. Without the relic to track the Outer God''s presence, they were at a loss.


    This failure was catastrophic, even with Xenon''s connections to the pope. A knight of his rank failing to counteract magical interference was inexcusable. Should the truth spread, reformists within the Vatican would gain the upper hand.


    Within the Lania Kingdom, the implications were even graver. The Holy Nation had orchestrated this entire charade to curb the kingdom''s growing independence from their influence. The Church had long since lost its authority in the kingdom, its tithes dwindling year by year.


    Xenon sighed. He longed for the days when the Holy Nation''s power was absolute¡ªwhen they could make kings kneel and burn dissenting nobles at the stake.


    Once, heresies were mere sparks fanned into flames from the shadows. Now, the Church had to ignite those flames themselves.


    But without heresy, how could the Church demonstrate its glory? Everything, he told himself, was for the light.


    As he lamented, an outrider galloped back with news.


    "Commander! Sir Gabriel has spotted a suspicious figure leading a horde of undead!"


    Xenon''s eyes lit up. Could it be?


    "Did he wear a black hood?"


    "Yes, Commander. And he appears to be fleeing with a hostage¡ªa frail woman over his shoulder."


    Relief surged through Xenon. The necromancer and the relic were within reach again. Gathering his knights, he prepared to strike.


    Meanwhile, the mandrake expedition was having less luck.


    "I could swear it was around here," Kensington muttered for the fifth time, his voice increasingly defensive under their withering stares.


    "Baron Kensington," Lancaster said coldly. "When you found the grove, did it not occur to you to mark its location?"

 Chapter 49 The Worlds Gone Mad

    "Well... I was returning from a raid at the time, so I only noted the general area. I couldn''t risk getting too close," Kensington admitted sheepishly."So you''ve never actually seen the mandrakes?"


    "No, no, I have! My griffon confirmed it. Its sense of smell is impeccable!"


    The griffon, as if to back up Kensington''s claim, nodded its head. Trusting the beast''s sharp senses, the group began searching the ground more carefully.


    After a long while, they heard the clash of weapons in the distance.


    "What''s that?"


    Unable to suppress their curiosity, they cautiously approached the noise.


    There, in the distance, they saw a knight locked in combat with a horde of undead.


    "Foul necromancer! Unhand her at once!" the knight roared.


    Alfred was dumbfounded. A Holy Knight trying to rescue a necromancer? S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The world''s gone mad. Simply mad.


    That morning, in the office of Crowley''s southern fortress, Orpheus, a sub-priest of the fanatics and a priest of the Church of Radiance, was enjoying a hearty breakfast, entirely unaware that the holy relics had been stolen by the knights.


    As he scooped cream-laden tea into his mouth, the rich aroma wafted up to his nose, a sensation he relished. Indeed, this was the privilege of the high-ranking elite. The Necromancer Priest would be handled by Xenon, and all he needed to do now was await the arrival of the punitive force.


    "By now, there should be some results. Perhaps today would be a good day to visit the priest''s hideout," Orpheus mused. The thought of the countless artifacts and magical items stored there brought a smile to his face. Since the knight commander knew nothing of this, Orpheus planned to claim it all for himself.


    Finishing his tea, Orpheus reflected, It''s unfortunate I have to handle this matter personally. But great rewards often require great effort.


    After his meal, he stood and gazed out the window. If he used the wealth he would acquire from the Necromancer''s hideout well, his position within the papacy would only grow stronger.


    Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Orpheus clasped his hands behind his back and planned his day. Soon, he headed to Leonardo''s room. The activation word for the teleportation magic circle was already known to him, making the task straightforward. Without that knowledge, he wouldn''t have dared venture there alone.


    "It''s such a shame," Orpheus muttered under his breath as he shook his head. "A talent like his, wasted this way."


    Leonardo was a genius who had designed a teleportation circle that only required inserting a magic stone and reciting the activation word.


    "How could he have fallen for such heresy?" Orpheus clicked his tongue, lamenting the situation. Though he recognized the utility of such heretics, their dangers far outweighed their benefits. His decision, though harsh, was necessary.


    When he reached Leonardo''s room, Orpheus retrieved a key and unlocked the door. He had been wise to prepare a spare key in advance. The room was silent, its contents untouched, bearing traces of Leonardo''s presence.


    Orpheus glanced at the floor, where the teleportation circle was drawn, and a smile crept onto his face. After I gather everything, I''ll have the house demolished, he resolved.


    With that thought in mind, he placed a magic stone at the center of the circle. Reciting the activation word, he watched as the circle began to glow. For a moment, he stared at the light before stepping into the magic circle without hesitation.


    Instantly, his surroundings distorted, and he felt as though his body and soul were being sucked into an unknown space. When the magic concluded, he found himself standing before the Necromancer Priest''s hideout. He had succeeded.


    Orpheus began sweeping the artifacts stored in the underground chamber into the spatial pocket he had brought with him. While collecting, he paused upon noticing a large box tucked away in a corner.


    The box resembled a cage, draped in a black cloth.


    "What on earth is this¡­?" he murmured, curiosity piqued. He approached the box and lifted the cloth.


    The moment he saw its contents, Orpheus screamed in horror.


    "Leonardo, you lunatic! What were you thinking, keeping something like this here? Do you want us all to die?!"


    Meanwhile


    Once a bandit leader, Nicholas now served as an elder priest of the heretical cult. He had become utterly consumed by its mysterious powers. The sensation he had first experienced upon encountering the cult¡ªthe euphoria of the blood quill''s touch on his body¡ªwas an ecstasy greater than anything he had known.


    As his addiction deepened over time, Nicholas began delving into forbidden dark arts.


    "All of this will be perfected through the holiness of the Goddess," he declared, laughter bubbling from his lips.


    Before him lay a scene of depravity¡ªnaked men and women entwined, a chaotic mass of bodies. They were his former bandit subordinates, now priests, and women taken captive from within the castle.


    The women wailed and cursed their captors, mourning families murdered and their lives ruined. But the priests were unbothered. On the contrary, the more the women screamed, the more delight the priests seemed to derive from their suffering.


    Under the neglect of the sub-priest Orpheus and the disappearance of the high priest, these atrocities had escalated. The cultists believed such acts were offerings to their god, though in reality, they merely catered to Nicholas''s perverse desires.


    Yet there was a purpose, however twisted it might be. The rituals were a rehearsal to amuse the Goddess before the "sacrifice" hidden in the high priest''s hideout was brought here.


    Unlike the high priest, who worshipped a fragment of the Outsider, Nicholas believed he served the true deity.


    As he reveled in his twisted conviction, the voice of the Goddess emanated from the blood quill, sticky and saccharine as if soaked in blood.


    [Nicholas, my faithful servant. Everything will soon be complete. When the time comes, I will grant you the promised power. Until then, continue to please me. Do you understand?]


    Prostrating himself on the ground, Nicholas offered his devotion.


    "Do not worry, O Goddess of Blood. The monster is already trapped within our grasp. Your loyal servants are retrieving it via the magic circle and will have it here by tonight."


    [Why is it taking so long?]

 Chapter 50 The Defeated Holy Knights

    "My deepest apologies. Transporting the beast to the circle is fraught with instability¡­ But we''ve ensured no local supplies were requisitioned. There will surely be carts and horses available. At the latest, we will perform the ritual by dawn tomorrow. Please wait a little longer¡­"[Ah, my beloved Nicholas. How could I not wait for you? But beware¡ªI am a fickle goddess. You must not delay too long.] S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Nicholas gazed at the blood quill with dazed eyes. The artifact floated in the air, exuding a sinister red glow. Behind it, the fleeting figure of a beautiful woman would occasionally appear and vanish.


    "Yes, O Goddess of Blood¡­ Your humble servant Nicholas begs for your grace," he murmured, his trembling voice brimming with longing.


    The dimly lit ballroom where they resided, shrouded in thick darkness, resonated with the Goddess''s eerie laughter¡ªa sound like countless ghosts laughing in unison.


    As he awaited the Goddess''s blessing, Nicholas grasped the blood quill with trembling hands.


    [Nicholas, my loyal servant,] the Goddess''s voice resounded from within the quill.


    [I know of your devotion. Now, offer me your blood and bring me joy. My joy shall become yours.]


    Shaking, Nicholas lifted the quill, already soaked in blood, and plunged it into his body. As his blood flowed into the artifact, its red glow intensified, and it floated higher into the air.


    The ballroom''s atmosphere grew heavier and more oppressive.


    "Receive my blood, O Goddess, and grant me your power," Nicholas prayed, his voice unwavering even in the throes of agony.


    Simultaneously, the priests engaged in their debauchery began stabbing and slashing the women in their grasp.


    The women screamed and resisted until their last moments, but their efforts were futile. Amid the chaos of cries and splattered blood, the blood quill greedily absorbed every drop of blood that approached it. The scene was nothing short of a vision of hell.


    Orpheus, who had been despairing at the sight of the cage and its horrifying contents, suddenly noticed the teleportation circle glowing. Someone was coming.


    Should he hide? There was nowhere to conceal himself. In the end, he chose to stand before the cage, adopting a solemn stance. After all, the only people who could arrive here were either the Priest Leonardo or Elder Priest Nicholas. With either of them, he figured he could talk his way out of trouble.


    Moments later, the figures who emerged from the teleportation circle were priests loyal to Nicholas and servants of the Outsider. Orpheus sighed in relief. If it had been Leonardo, it would have meant that something had gone terribly wrong with the holy knights'' plans.


    The priests seemed startled to see Orpheus.


    "Oh! Sub-Priest! What brings you here? Did you come early after hearing about Elder Priest Nicholas''s orders?"


    Thankfully, the foolish priests gave him an opening. Orpheus quickly composed himself, determined not to let his real intentions slip.


    "That''s correct. Ahem. I''ve heard the basics, but what do you plan to do next?"


    "Of course, we''ll transport it and offer it in tomorrow''s ritual. Surely you understand, Sub-Priest."


    Though this was news to him, Orpheus nodded, feigning agreement. He suspected that Nicholas and Leonardo had orchestrated this madness together. It was a plausible assumption, given the fanatics'' obsession with the Outsider.


    Orpheus deliberated. If this "sacrifice" was successfully offered, it would spell disaster. Somehow, he had to stop these lunatics. For now, there was no better option than to follow them and look for an opportunity.


    The priests soon procured a few emaciated horses and a cart from the village. Loading the cage onto the cart, they set off at a brisk pace, with Orpheus trailing behind. As they traveled, he silently prayed, hoping that Xenon and the holy knights might be nearby.


    Perhaps the Radiance answered his prayer. Midway through their journey, Orpheus sensed the presence of holy knights within a one-kilometer radius. He stopped briefly, scanning the surroundings, while the heretical priests remained preoccupied with their path ahead.


    He needed to contact the knights immediately. They could deal with these cultists and the horrifying cage.


    Looking for an opening, Orpheus positioned himself at the back of the cart, seated away from the priests. He quietly slipped off the cart and crouched low, moving stealthily toward the direction of the holy knights. His heart pounded furiously in his chest.


    Once he was a safe distance away, he broke into a sprint.


    The Mandragora Expedition was in shock. Holy knights were flying¡ªliterally flying¡ªthrough the air.


    At the center of the commotion stood a towering man cloaked in black robes. Each time he lashed out with shadowy whips that resembled vines, knights were sent soaring into the air as if gravity had abandoned them.


    The man didn''t move from his spot, effortlessly parrying and countering the knights'' attacks with a calm elegance that resembled a choreographed dance. The Mandragora Expedition couldn''t tear their eyes away from the surreal battle.


    Although the knights numbered close to fifty, their attempts to attack en masse were thwarted by the undead surrounding the robed man. It was clear that the location had been chosen with meticulous intent¡ªit severely limited the number of knights who could attack at once.


    Strangely, it seemed as though the man wasn''t being protected by the undead; rather, he was the one protecting them.


    The shadowy whips split into multiple tendrils, moving like living creatures as they hurled knights away from the undead. When one knight tried to approach from the side, the man ensnared him with the whips, lifting him from the ground. The knight screamed in agony before being flung into the air.


    Another knight attempted to sneak up from behind, but the man reacted instantly, spinning around and striking the knight''s chest with his bare hand. Despite the mismatch of flesh against armor, the knight was sent flying backward, his weapon slipping from his grasp.


    The robed man was unquestionably in control of the battle. He toyed with the knights, dismantling their formations one by one while the shadowy whips encircled them like a living nightmare.


    In the end, every knight fell.

 Chapter 51 Interrogation

    As if nothing had happened, the robed man turned to one of the undead and took a fragile figure into his arms. Then, his gaze shifted to the Mandragora Expedition.It was him¡ªthe grandfather.


    Michael stepped forward with an awkward smile, but before he could speak, a shadowy whip lashed out like lightning, narrowly missing his head and extending far behind him.


    Moments later, the whip returned, dragging with it a man clad in priestly robes.


    Startled, Michael hurried to the old man''s side. Alfred, standing over the priest with one foot planted on his chest, spoke with a cold expression. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "What are you doing here? You should be with your unit."


    "Well, I was hoping to earn a little extra on the side," Michael replied sheepishly.


    "No matter. I was looking for you anyway. You can come back with us."


    "Who is this person you''ve captured?" Michael asked.


    "He was running toward us suspiciously, so I grabbed him."


    Alfred glanced down at the priest, who groaned in pain beneath his foot. Pressing down harder, Alfred prompted a strangled wheeze from the man.


    "This is no time for this! Call Sir Xenon immediately! Ugh, they''re planning something catastrophic!" the man croaked.


    Alfred applied more pressure.


    "That''s not the tone of someone asking for a favor," he said coolly.


    "P-please¡­ I beg you! I¡­"


    The priest, Orpheus, hesitated, unsure of how to introduce himself. Should he claim to be a priest of the Outsider? Or one of Radiance?


    While he wavered, Alfred''s foot pressed down even harder.


    "Argh! Stop! Please stop! This is no time for this!"


    Though he had ignored the suffering of Crowley''s people, Orpheus couldn''t endure his own pain. Alfred''s indifferent gaze bore into him.


    "Judging by your appearance, you''re a dog of Radiance. What are you doing here, hiding under the guise of the Outsider?"


    Orpheus''s face turned pale. How does he know? Wait¡­ that robe''s emblem¡­


    Before he could complete his thought, Michael grabbed Alfred''s wrist.


    "Wait a moment, Grandfather," he said.


    Orpheus was about to feel relief¡ªfinally, a voice of reason¡ªbut Michael''s next words wiped away that hope.


    "Let me handle the interrogation. There''s something I''ve been wanting to try," Michael said with a mischievous grin.


    Alfred''s lips curled into a proud smile as he looked at his ever-resourceful grandson.


    "Well done, my boy," he said.


    In the end, torture wasn''t necessary. Every one of them, be it this man or that, was so cowardly that they confessed before a single finger could be broken.


    "So, you''re saying that the blood quill''s seal was broken, and it was handed over to that Necromancer named Leonardo by the papacy itself?" Michael asked, lifting a stick threateningly.


    Orpheus, who had been watching for any sign of danger like a nervous rat, spoke up immediately as he saw Michael holding the stick. He couldn''t bear the thought of his fingers being caught between that stick again.


    "Yes, that''s correct. I was only following orders from above. Everything came from the brains of the papacy''s upper echelons. All they care about is donations and expanding their influence," Orpheus confessed hastily, hoping to lessen his guilt.


    But his attempt to shift blame crumbled quickly.


    "Shut your mouth, you scoundrel! How dare you insult His Holiness the Pope? Wasn''t it your proposal to begin with?" Xenon, who was tied up beside him, managed to lift his bound legs and kick Orpheus, sending both of them sprawling to the ground.


    "Enough! If I catch you lying one more time, I won''t let you off so easily," Michael warned. "Every word will be cross-verified by the fifty-two others here, so stick to the truth."


    Orpheus, realizing there was no hope of escaping this predicament, tried another angle.


    "Uh¡­ but, my lord, we should capture those heading toward Crowley''s estate first. They''re planning something truly catastrophic¡ª"


    "There''s no need to worry about that," Michael interrupted. "Grandfather and the other knights are already on their way to intercept them. All you need to do is tell the truth."


    Orpheus''s heart sank. He had been hoping for a chance to escape amid the chaos of a skirmish. But if "Grandfather" referred to the man he thought it did, there was no hope left.


    He gave up quickly. With so many potential victims around, resistance was futile. Loyalty to the papacy? Faith? None of that mattered in the face of physical pain. Orpheus had never been particularly devout; he became a clergyman only because his father was a high-ranking priest in the papacy.


    "I''ll answer everything truthfully¡ªjust please, no torture," he pleaded. "The Knight Commander knows nothing. He''s an ignorant brute who can barely wield a sword properly."


    His craven nature shone through as he immediately betrayed others to save himself. Xenon, tied beside him, fumed and spat in frustration, but Orpheus paid no mind.


    "You''re quick to adapt. Good. Now, who currently possesses the blood quill?" Michael asked.


    "The blood quill is with Elder Priest Nicholas. He uses it to paint symbols on the faces and bodies of the priests and to communicate with the Outsider embedded in the quill," Orpheus explained.


    "So, you''re saying that all of you are acting independently, united only by a shared goal?" Michael probed further.


    "Yes, that''s correct. When the papacy first devised this plan, they sought individuals with an affinity for the Outsider. Among the candidates, Leonardo seemed the easiest to manipulate and the simplest to understand."


    "He had already been in contact with an Outsider, and once we realized the ability granted by that Outsider was persuasion, the plan took off. We approached him, encouraged the formation of a new religion, and used the excuse of reforming bandits to contact Nicholas."


    "Nicholas was a criminal we often hired for dirty work and led a gang of bandits, who were subsequently turned into priests of the Outsider."


    "But we never expected Nicholas to become so consumed by the blood quill''s pleasures. Now, he''s lost himself to its allure and plans to sacrifice the¡­ entity in our possession. I know I''m not in a position to say this, but that madness must be stopped. Please, show mercy."


    "Ha! You''re not doing this out of concern for others. You''re just worried you''ll get caught up in the aftermath," Michael retorted sharply.

 Chapter 52 A Young Dragon

    Orpheus clammed up, realizing he had been seen through. Surely, they would spare him for his honesty, wouldn''t they? He glanced nervously around."It''s said that the blood quill requires blood sacrifices to function. What did you do to procure those sacrifices?" Michael''s voice was cold.


    Orpheus''s eyes darted nervously. If he confessed the truth¡­


    "Don''t even think about lying. The truth will come out during cross-verification," Michael warned.


    Backed into a corner, Orpheus took a deep breath and began recounting his crimes.


    "I¡­ First, with Nicholas and the knight commander, Xenon, we targeted a few slash-and-burn farming villages. And then¡­" Orpheus faltered, unable to continue.


    A swift punishment followed. Slaps landed across his face until he broke down in tears, spilling the rest.


    "Enough! Please, stop! I''ll confess everything. First, we selected young children and¡­ cut open their stomachs to extract their hearts. We made their parents watch, ensuring their hatred and resentment peaked before we decapitated them and offered their blood to the quill. Without blood steeped in such intense hatred, the Outsider sealed for centuries could not awaken¡­"


    Michael clenched his fists, struggling to suppress his rising anger. It was hard enough knowing the plight of serfs, but what these innocents had endured was beyond comprehension. His heart burned with the desire to strike Orpheus down, but he restrained himself. Not yet.


    "Was this why the blood quill was kept instead of being destroyed? To use it in situations like this? Is that also why kingdoms and nobles who defied the papacy fell into ruin?" Michael pressed.


    Orpheus didn''t answer, trembling and sweating as he lay prone.


    "Such a noble god and clergy," Michael muttered bitterly. "After committing atrocities like this, how can you speak of divinity?"


    He shook his head. The gods he knew, however harsh, only granted power for rightful vengeance. But Radiance? Michael pushed the thought aside. This was no time to invoke divine scrutiny.


    For now, he needed written confessions from Orpheus and the knight commander. These would be sealed and sent to the royal palace. Such matters were beyond even Count Charles''s ability to handle alone.


    "Is there no way to restore those turned into the Outsider''s followers by the blood quill?" Michael asked. At the very least, he hoped to bring peace to the survivors.


    Orpheus, still lying face down, shook his head.


    "No¡­ It''s impossible. Once someone has been stimulated by it, they are bound to follow its orders until their life force is extinguished."


    "Truly useless," Michael spat. "You''re good for nothing. Perhaps I''ll have your skin turned into a drum¡ªat least that would be of some use."


    "Please, spare my life¡­" Orpheus begged.


    Ignoring him, Michael approached Xenon, who was playing dead on the ground. A single kick forced him upright, and the cross-verification began.


    Fifty people were questioned, but all were guilty. Compared to them, even Leonardo, the dreaded Necromancer, seemed like a saint. At least Leonardo bore no direct responsibility for the atrocities committed in the farming villages or the baron''s lands.


    The more Michael listened, the more his fury grew. These so-called clergy and knights had done nothing but kill innocents, torment them, and offer them as sacrifices to the Outsider.


    Could this be allowed?


    As the interrogation drew to a close, Alfred and his group arrived. True to Orpheus''s words, they had brought the cart carrying the cage. The priests of the Outsider, former bandits, were nowhere to be seen, likely slain to prevent further harm.


    Alfred approached the cage and pulled away the cloth covering it. A stunned silence followed.


    Inside was a small dragon, its wings pierced by iron rods. Its body was battered and bloody, slumped unconscious in the cage.


    "What is this¡­?" Michael muttered, recoiling instinctively from the grotesque sight. The young dragon''s condition was horrific.


    "It''s so small¡­ It must be a hatchling, just as that priest claimed. How could anyone do this? Do they not fear the wrath of the dragons for harming a hatchling?" Alfred asked.


    [Nyah¡­ This isn''t a hatchling¡­] purred Miaomiao, the spirit beast accompanying Michael.


    [A young dragon, yes, but not a hatchling. Still, this is¡­] Miaomiao hesitated, his voice trailing off.


    Alfred finished his sentence.


    "This is a disgrace among the dragons themselves."


    [It may look young, but it''s definitely not a hatchling,] Miaomiao explained. [Hatchlings are bigger than this. Only fully grown divine beasts can alter their forms, and a hatchling would never be left unguarded by both parents. It''s clear this is a young dragon with incomplete inheritance.]


    "Well, that''s a relief. If that priest was right, and a horde of dragons was about to descend, it would''ve been a catastrophe," Michael said. "But you keep mentioning ''inheritance.'' What is that, exactly?"


    Miaomiao snorted in apparent irritation before replying.


    [For divine beasts like me¡ªor what you humans call first-grade magical beasts¡ªinheritance is passed down during conception. It''s part of our bloodline. Dragons, however, are foolish. Sometimes their inheritance isn''t properly transferred, and when that happens, the unlucky dragon is abandoned by the group as soon as it reaches adulthood. This one''s parents must have failed to pass down its legacy while it was still in its egg. Foolish and lazy creatures, dragons are little more than beasts.]


    "So, this captured dragon is¡­ a bit lacking, is that what you''re saying?" Michael asked.


    Miaomiao chuckled dryly.


    [Of course. A fully capable first-grade magical beast would never be captured like this. Even if a magical beast contract is possible with first-grade creatures, just look at this state. Dragons are notoriously greedy. It probably fell for some human''s trick or scheme, which led to this pitiful condition. Anyway, let''s keep it asleep. It''d be a disaster if it woke up and started causing trouble.]


    "What about its wings? They''re in such bad shape. Won''t that cause problems later?"


    [Hmph, it''ll be fine. Even a dull-witted dragon''s body should heal without issue.] Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Miaomiao''s tone carried an undercurrent of disdain for dragons.


    The group decided to transport the caged dragon, along with the captured priests and knights, to Leonardo''s secret chamber. To do so, they would need to unlock the chamber''s seal.

 Chapter 53 Battle Aftermath

    While Orpheus and the priests knew how to exit the chamber, entering it was a different matter. Knowing the traps that guarded the entrance, Miaomiao slapped Leonardo awake.Leonardo woke with a start, panicked and frantic, until Alfred raised his fist. The threat of another strike silenced him immediately.


    Despite the commotion, the dragon remained unconscious. Its deep slumber persisted undisturbed.


    Baron Kensington piloted a griffon to shuttle back and forth between the group and Leonardo''s hideout multiple times before they finally set off.


    By then, the evening sky was painted in the fiery hues of sunset. It was time to return to camp.


    The Mandragora Expedition had long been forgotten, overshadowed by the events of the day. The sheer magnitude of what had occurred left everyone reeling. S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    When they arrived, the camp was already set up. By morning, they would reach Crowley''s castle.


    "First Archery Squad, form up! Fire!"


    The battle had begun.


    With no way to save the fanatics, the only option was to grant them eternal rest.


    The last remaining leader within the castle, Nicholas, was overwhelmed. The dragon he intended to offer as a sacrifice hadn''t arrived, and the Goddess had yet to fully awaken.


    In this state, without any military training or even basic literacy, Nicholas was utterly incapable of mounting a proper defense.


    The soldiers from Baron Crassus''s domain, on the other hand, fought brilliantly. Unlike the disorganized foot soldiers from other regions, these troops moved in perfect harmony, dominating the battlefield with precision.


    Shield bearers formed the front line, fending off enemy attacks while archers behind them unleashed volleys of arrows. When enemies approached, spearmen coordinated flawlessly to repel their advance.


    Their seamless cooperation was like a single, massive organism moving with purpose.


    Michael, commanding the soldiers, targeted the priests exclusively.


    "Shout louder, everyone! The Goddess will surely¡ª"


    The priest leading the charge didn''t finish his sentence. Michael''s arrow pierced his throat, ending his life.


    Every time a notable figure emerged, another arrow silenced them. Before long, no priests dared to raise their voices.


    With the priests no longer controlling them, the fanatics grew weaker. Most importantly, time was their greatest ally. The frenzy of the fanatics would wane after six hours.


    Michael continued to pick off priests, buying as much time as possible. When the first signs of the fanatics aging prematurely began to show, he ordered the soldiers to advance.


    The soldiers, exhausted but resolute, cut down the faltering fanatics with grim efficiency, harvesting their lives like wheat in a field.


    Count Charles and his knights didn''t remain idle. Charging on horseback, they tore through the battlefield with relentless determination.


    After slaying the last priest in sight, Michael surveyed the battlefield. The fanatics lay scattered on the ground, lifeless. Their expressions, however, seemed almost peaceful, as if finally finding rest.


    Michael clasped his hands together and offered a prayer for the departed, tracing a sign of the cross over his chest.


    He prayed that these poor souls would find peace and that their deaths would not go unavenged.


    Nicholas, watching his forces crumble one by one, realized it was over. Clutching the blood quill tightly, he fled to Leonardo''s room inside the castle.


    He needed to use the teleportation circle immediately.


    With frantic hands, he placed the magic stone into the center of the circle. But nothing happened.


    Panic set in, and as he turned around, he found himself face-to-face with a young knight with a sturdy frame and a calm yet piercing gaze.


    "Where do you think you''re going? Don''t you think it''s time to face justice?" Michael said.


    [Activation conditions met. Absorbing mana. Mana absorption complete. Usage conditions not fulfilled. Shutting down functionality.]


    After subduing Nicholas, Michael reached out and touched the blood quill. A warm sensation coursed through him as distant, ethereal screams echoed in his mind.


    Moments later, Michael withdrew his hand. The quill crumbled into dust, scattering into the air. Destroying it was the right thing to do.


    Dragging the unconscious Nicholas to the ballroom, Michael confronted the horrors Orpheus had hinted at. Nicholas, after losing several teeth during interrogation, had reluctantly revealed the location of the women he had taken.


    The ballroom was drenched in blood.


    The lifeless bodies of women, from girls no older than ten to middle-aged mothers, lay strewn across the floor. Some were old corpses, others freshly dead, but all were mutilated beyond recognition.


    Michael stood frozen, unable to speak. After witnessing the horrors on the battlefield, this atrocity left him utterly shattered.


    How could anyone commit such acts?


    As Michael sank into silent despair, Miaomiao approached cautiously.


    [Michael, I''ve solved the riddle. It''s humans. Humans did this,] the spirit beast said softly.


    Michael reached out and gently stroked Miaomiao''s head. The small creature rubbed its head against his hand, offering comfort.


    "Yes¡­ humans," Michael whispered. "Humans did this. And humans will clean up this mess. Thank you, Miaomiao. You''ve helped me see things clearly."


    For the first time since coming into this world, Michael felt a sense of purpose.


    To achieve his goal of changing the world, Michael first needed to deal with the immediate situation. That meant informing others about Orpheus, the captured priest of the Church of Radiance.


    "This is not something we can resolve on our own. We should wash our hands of it and inform Count Charles and the Court Marquis immediately," Baron Crassus urged.


    "I agree. Keeping them imprisoned with some misguided sense of justice won''t gain us anything. It''s better to report this to the court and claim the rewards," Baron Kensington added.


    Both barons insisted that withdrawing from the matter was the wisest course of action. Alfred and Hope remained silent, while Lord Lancaster declared he would follow the consensus. Michael also knew he had no other options.


    As long as the Church of Radiance was involved, there was no way forward on his own.


    As for the dragon, it was decided that Miaomiao, the sphinx, would handle it. Being a fellow first-grade magical beast, she argued that there was no one more suitable than herself. Her reasoning left everyone speechless¡ªor perhaps it was fear of her strength that silenced any objections.

 Chapter 54 Divide The Spoils

    Baron Kensington, meanwhile, couldn''t hide his awe. He was practically drooling at the chance to see and converse with a noble, ancient divine beast. For a magical beast enthusiast like him, it was overwhelming.When Count Charles received their message, he was deeply shocked. While everyone had suspected some kind of conspiracy, no one had expected to secure such definitive evidence. This was truly an enormous development.


    Court Marquis Woodrock, his expression heavy, immediately dispatched a message to the royal palace. The wyvern confiscated from the holy knights soared toward the court, carrying the urgent report.


    With that, the matter was no longer in their hands. Whatever decision the court made, they had no choice but to follow.


    Michael sighed, acutely aware of his own weakness. In his current state, there was little he could do. He needed to grow stronger¡ªand to do that, he would have to maximize the benefits from this campaign.


    Strength came with power, and power required money to function.


    The coalition of minor nobles, which had briefly united during the "recapture" of the villages, disbanded like a castle of sand. The spoils of their campaign were being divided, and disputes arose over the allocation of resources.


    Baron Kensington was particularly troubled as he reviewed the contribution lists. While loot obtained through plundering was claimed individually and avoided disputes, dividing 50% of the total wealth of Crowley''s barony proved far more contentious.


    The value of the barony''s lands and tangible assets was immense, and every noble present was eager to claim their share. Even before contributions had been fully calculated, they began arguing over who had done the most.


    If not for Baron Kensington''s efforts to mediate, there would already have been half a dozen duels.


    The northern nobles were poor and each had their own calculations. If the wealth of Crowley''s barony were liquidated, it would exceed one million gold. Half of that¡ªfive hundred thousand gold¡ªwas to be divided among the coalition, a sum greater than the fifty-year net income of most estates.


    The staggering amount put everyone on edge. Alliances dissolved in the face of greed, and the camp erupted in shouting matches, finger-pointing, and even three duels.


    Ultimately, Baron Crassus secured 10% of the total wealth for his domain¡ªa recognition of Michael''s contributions. While other families grumbled, they could do little else.


    Michael and Baron Crassus opted to forgo land claims in favor of receiving their share entirely in gold. As a result, they gained a staggering fifty thousand gold.


    Excluding plundered loot, fifty thousand gold was their reward¡ªproving once again that war was a path to wealth.


    However, it was now time to return the serf-soldiers borrowed from other domains. While it felt like throwing away hard-earned gains, it was unavoidable.


    He had trained these men, only to have to return them. The thought was deeply frustrating.


    Though he could secretly keep the stragglers who had been left behind, the serf-soldiers distributed by Count Charles had to be returned. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Using a bit of subterfuge, Michael identified soldiers who didn''t wish to return to their original lands. He officially marked them as deceased, bringing around one hundred additional serfs to the Crassus domain.


    These serfs expressed a desire to bring their families over if given the chance. With the heads of their households gone, their families were likely to become impoverished slash-and-burn farmers anyway, so relocating them wouldn''t be difficult.


    Sigh¡­ All I''ve gained is fifty thousand gold, some grain, and one hundred serfs, Michael thought, realizing the limits of his current position.


    He was eager to return to his domain and make the most of his new resources.


    While the wealth of Crowley''s barony was being carved up and distributed, a formal complaint from the Kingdom of Lania arrived at the Papacy of the Church of Radiance.


    "Look at this!" Pope Allegro III exclaimed, hurling the letter of complaint at Bishop Orion, father of Orpheus. "Your son caused this disaster! Thanks to his schemes, we''ve gained nothing but a pile of complaints!"


    Orion, outraged by the Pope''s attempt to shift blame, retorted heatedly.


    "How is this solely my son''s fault? What about Xenon, the knight commander? What was he doing there?"


    The two engaged in a bitter argument, their accusations cutting into one another like self-inflicted wounds.


    Eventually, realizing the futility of their squabble, they coughed awkwardly and tried to calm themselves.


    "This is not the time for this. We need a plan," Orion muttered.


    "I agree. We must not acknowledge this publicly," Allegro III said.


    The struggle between royal and divine authority was nothing new, and countless schemes had played out behind the scenes over the years. But rarely had something so scandalous come to light.


    "This must be framed as an isolated incident of personal misconduct. Harsh as it may seem, we have no choice."


    While they couldn''t deny the reappearance of the blood quill, they could limit the papacy''s accountability to acknowledging its theft as an individual act of defiance.


    Rumors that the papacy had sought to increase donations or secretly supported fanatics had to remain unproven speculation.


    "Rest assured, Your Holiness. I will handle the aftermath," Vito, the captain of the First Order of Holy Knights and the Pope''s right-hand man, declared confidently.


    As Vito strategized, Pope Allegro clicked his tongue, calculating how to cover the financial losses. For nearly two centuries, rebellious kingdoms had drained the papacy''s resources. Now, this scandal added further strain.


    Is the divine abandoning me? he wondered bitterly. Why had this disaster occurred during his papacy?


    The papal secretaries were already drafting a response:


    The theft of the blood quill was a personal act of defiance. However, the papacy acknowledges its moral responsibility and will provide reparations. All damaged temples in the Kingdom of Lania will be rebuilt, and royal and noble tithes within the kingdom will be waived for three years.


    The letter, though lengthy and filled with legal jargon, carried a clear subtext:


    Take this as compensation and return our people to us. Push further, and we won''t hold back either.


    Diplomacy, after all, was a game of sparring without striking the face.


    After dismissing Bishop Orion and Commander Vito, Pope Allegro III sat in the sacred seat, lost in thought. How could the financial losses from this incident be covered?

 Chapter 55 Contract

    No matter how much he pondered, only one option came to mind: utilizing the darker paths of commerce.He gestured to Cardinal Jacobo, his loyal left hand, who stood waiting behind him.


    "To make up for these losses, there''s no other way. Increase the supply of magical elixirs, juvenile magical beasts, and relics of the Outsider on the black market. About five times the usual volume should suffice," the Pope instructed.


    Jacobo bowed respectfully and left the audience chamber to carry out the order.


    Left alone, Pope Allegro III let out a heavy sigh.


    "What is becoming of this world¡­ Radiance, grant us your light."


    Though the papacy had hoarded vast wealth over the generations, the idea of tapping into those resources didn''t occur to anyone.


    King Charles V of the Kingdom of Lania was thoroughly satisfied with the papacy''s official letter.


    A tax exemption? Such a boon was well worth handing over Crowley''s barony. After all, the commoners sacrificed in this ordeal were mere numbers on paper.


    Whether a thousand or ten thousand had died, it didn''t matter to the nobility. The kingdom''s position was that these sacrifices would not be in vain if the newfound wealth bolstered the military and strengthened the nation.


    With the surplus funds, perhaps they could even erect a memorial stone for the fallen.


    "Well then, let''s consider this matter settled. Hand over the captured holy knights and priests to the papacy," the king ordered.


    And so, the tragedy of Crowley''s barony was concluded, with no one held accountable.


    Spring seemed to be on its way. The winds, once sharp as blades, had softened, and puddles dotted the roads. The frozen ground was beginning to thaw.


    Michael and Miaomiao had returned to the castle. With Alfred''s help, they had removed the spiked rods piercing the dragon''s wings.


    The young dragon lay sleeping soundly, as if it had not a care in the world. Whether it was under the influence of a sleep spell or some kind of sedative, the dragon slumbered deeply even as the rods were carefully extracted.


    It had been more than two weeks since the dragon was found at Leonardo''s hideout, and it still showed no signs of waking. Michael wondered if the dragon might be hibernating.


    As for Leonardo, he had been secretly taken by Alfred for "repentance." He was to be sent back to Michael after serving his penance, though the thought alone gave Michael a headache.


    When Leonardo first met Michael, he had burst into tears and shouted, falling to his knees and placing a hand over his chest.


    "Oh, great one! I pledge myself to your will. Please, accept me!"


    Although Leonardo was a talented artifact craftsman, his excessive devotion to the Outsider made him a problematic addition. Michael would likely have to correct his behavior when he arrived.


    As Michael shook his head at the memory, Miaomiao suddenly exclaimed,


    [Michael! This guy is waking up!] Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The young dragon, roughly the size of a small foal, was stretching its wings and yawning.


    The male dragon rubbed its eyes with its short forelegs and fixed its gaze on Michael and Miaomiao.


    [How dare you kidnap the great me! Humans, return me to my lair at once, or I shall devour you!]


    Before Michael could respond, Miaomiao leapt forward and smacked the dragon''s head.


    [What nonsense are you spouting, you dim-witted dragon head?! We saved you from being sacrificed to the Outsider! Try to remember!]


    The dragon scratched its head with a foreleg, looking thoroughly confused.


    Sensing an opportunity, Michael interjected. Whether or not this dragon had incomplete inheritance, it was still a dragon¡ªa magical beast worth forming a contract with.


    "Oh, mighty dragon, may I ask your name?" Michael said respectfully.


    Miaomiao glared at Michael, ready to pounce, but he held her back tightly.


    "Calm down, Miaomiao. We need to secure the contract first."


    Hissing in frustration, Miaomiao eventually relented, though her swishing tail betrayed her displeasure.


    The dragon turned its bewildered gaze to Michael. Pleased by the respectful tone, it lifted its head arrogantly.


    [My name is Marcus. My parents used to call me Max.]


    Michael offered a friendly smile.


    "Marcus, may I call you Max?"


    The dragon hesitated briefly before nodding.


    [Very well.]


    It plopped onto the ground, extending its hindquarters. Neither the human before it nor the feline nearby seemed particularly threatening.


    [So, why have you brought me here? The last human I met promised to build me a lair of gold, but instead, he captured me and did terrible things. How do I know you''re not like him?]


    Michael smiled again.


    "If I were like that human, would I be treating you so politely?"


    The dragon tilted its head in agreement.


    [Fair enough. Then return me to my lair. I don''t need a golden lair¡ª]


    The dragon paused, suddenly uncertain. Do I really not need one? It imagined how splendid a golden lair would be.


    Michael seized the moment.


    "Oh, mighty dragon, would you truly leave without repaying your benefactor? We saved you from being offered to the Outsider."


    The dragon considered this for a moment. It didn''t particularly enjoy thinking, but it supposed Michael had a point.


    [Then how should I repay you?]


    Michael felt a twinge of guilt for manipulating a dragon with incomplete inheritance, but the opportunity to form a contract with a first-grade magical beast was too tempting to pass up.


    "It''s simple. Grant me a contract for just one-tenth of your remaining life. If I die before that time, the contract will extend to my descendants. This arrangement benefits you far more than it does me. What do you think?"


    [10%? How much is that?]


    Dragons typically lived for around 5,000 years, meaning Michael was proposing a 500-year contract¡ªa highly one-sided deal.


    "One-tenth is like giving up just one apple out of a basket of ten. During the contract, I will provide you with lodging filled with beautiful art and a golden nest lined with silk. Your meals will consist of the finest beef and lamb, served every day."

 Chapter 56 Banish The Outsider

    The dragon mulled it over. Since leaving its parents'' nest, life had been hard. Its damp, smelly cave and diet of tasteless magical beast meat left much to be desired. It longed for the roasted venison its mother used to prepare.[Deer. I want deer too, roasted.]


    Michael nodded eagerly. Compared to the benefits of becoming a dragon knight, the cost was negligible.


    "Then please extend your foreleg. It will sting for a moment, but it''ll be over quickly."


    Hesitant, the dragon finally held out its foreleg.


    Michael drew a knife, making a small cut on the dragon''s foreleg and his own finger, mingling their blood.


    As he did, Miaomiao chanted an incantation:


    Haec pactio sub praesentia divinae creaturae conficitur!


    [Thus, the contract between Marcus of the dragonkin and Michael von Crassus is complete.]


    As Miaomiao''s words ended, Michael felt something sear itself onto his soul.


    And so, the eighth dragon knight of the continent of Rubel was born.


    The day had finally arrived. Alfred completed all preparations for the sealing ritual and called Michael to the site. Michael, accompanied by Miaomiao the sphinx and Marcus the dragon, made his way to an abandoned castle deep in the forest.


    As darkness blanketed the area, Alfred guided Michael into the depths of the dilapidated castle. Its walls were covered in ancient bricks and dust, with remnants of old battles scattered throughout. They stopped at an ancient altar located where the castle''s heart once thrived.


    The altar, inscribed with arcane symbols and magical markings, had a designated space at its center to hold the core. Hope stood nearby, his expression nervous as he glanced at the preparations.


    Alfred lit a series of candles around the altar, their soft glow pushing back the encroaching darkness and bathing the area in a warm, flickering light. With deliberate care, he placed the Outsider''s core at the center of the altar.


    The core emanated a malevolent aura, as though it were anticipating the ritual''s commencement.


    Michael felt an unsettling pressure rising within him, a suffocating sensation emanating from deep in his chest. Could the Outsider within him sense the impending seal? The pain was unbearable, and his eyes began to glow crimson.


    Alfred took a deep breath and knelt Michael before the altar.


    "It''s time. This will only take a moment¡ªendure it," Alfred said firmly.


    Alfred and Hope began chanting an ancient incantation. Their voices echoed around the altar, weaving through the air and resonating with the arcane symbols. The core grew brighter and more ominous, pulsating as if alive.


    Rays of light from the core wrapped around Michael, pulling at the Outsider''s power hidden within him. Michael groaned in pain, his body convulsing as the extraction began. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In his mind, Penelope''s voice screamed wildly, her words an incoherent, desperate stream:


    [Screams of rage echoed through his mind: How dare you! How could you! This is impossible! Unthinkable! It cannot be!]


    The Outsider''s power was being forcibly drawn from Michael''s body, and Alfred channeled the energy into the core. Penelope''s resistance was fierce, but Alfred''s relentless chanting and manipulation of the altar''s inscriptions intensified.


    ["Grandfather! Please! Stop! It hurts! Save me, Grandfather!"]


    Michael''s voice, or rather Penelope''s mimicry of it, echoed through the chamber.


    Alfred hesitated briefly before renewing his efforts, moving the shadowy tendrils around the altar faster. Penelope''s cries escalated into a shrill, furious scream as a crimson shadow began to coalesce around Michael, writhing chaotically before being pulled entirely into the core.


    When the shadow had fully entered the core, the candles around the altar flickered violently.


    With a brilliant flash, the Outsider''s core shattered into countless pieces, crumbling into nothingness.


    Alfred let out a heavy sigh as the shadows around him dissipated. Michael, still kneeling before the altar, trembled as he lifted his head, his eyes filled with confusion.


    The abandoned castle fell silent once more. Hope, drenched in sweat, gently helped Michael to his feet.


    "It''s over now, Michael. The Outsider within you has been banished," Hope reassured him.


    Michael nodded weakly, gratitude in his gaze as he looked at Alfred and Hope.


    He called Penelope''s name inwardly, but no answer came. Had he lost his powers?


    "Are you wondering if your powers are gone?" Alfred asked, sensing Michael''s hesitation.


    Before Michael could respond, Alfred brought forth Nicholas, still bound and writhing.


    Nicholas had been separated from the rest of the captured knights and priests sent to the capital. Alfred had kept him back for this moment.


    "This man deserves execution, so don''t feel guilty about using him to test your abilities," Alfred said coldly.


    Michael''s mind flashed with images of the women Nicholas had violated and murdered, and the innocent villagers turned into fanatics only to die in agony. Executing him would be an act of justice for those victims.


    Nicholas thrashed against his bindings, desperate to escape. He had envisioned a future of glory and power for himself, not this humiliating end.


    Alfred''s greatsword flashed through the air, slicing cleanly through Nicholas''s neck. His head fell to the ground in a precise, almost mercifully quick death.


    For his crimes, it was far too kind.


    Michael stepped forward and placed a hand on Nicholas''s corpse. The knowledge of what to do came to him instinctively.


    "Absorptionem eligo."


    The familiar starry expanse unfolded before him. Among countless twinkling lights, one descended into his forehead.


    He knew intuitively what power he had gained this time: lockpicking.


    It seemed like a thief''s skill, and while not particularly impressive, it was better than nothing.


    "Did it work?" Alfred asked.


    Michael nodded.


    "The Outsider''s gift, the power to resurrect the dead or absorb one of their abilities at random, still works," Michael confirmed.


    "I see. And you haven''t used the resurrection ability yet?" Alfred asked.


    "No. I''ve never met anyone worthy of being resurrected," Michael admitted.


    Alfred''s expression turned thoughtful.


    "Well, I know of someone perfect for it."


    With that cryptic remark, they buried Nicholas''s remains in a pauper''s graveyard and began their journey home.

 Chapter 57 A Sense Of Relief

    Miaomiao, perched atop Marcus''s back, was scolding the dragon.[You fool! Can''t you walk more steadily?]


    [This is the best I can do, ma''am. Please, have mercy on me.]


    [Hmph! Foolish Max! Stupid Max!]


    Despite her harsh words, Miaomiao gently patted Marcus''s head with a paw, softening the blow.


    [Don''t cry, or you''ll truly be a foolish dragon.]


    Watching the two bicker in their own way brought a smile to Michael''s face.


    Meanwhile, Alfred prodded the groggy Leonardo awake in the annex where he had been bound.


    "You have two choices," Alfred said bluntly. "You can spend the rest of your life imprisoned for offering the souls of villagers and knights to the Outsider, or you can be executed and resurrected to serve Michael."


    Leonardo''s eyes sparkled as though the choice was obvious.


    "Execution, of course!" he exclaimed without hesitation.


    Alfred turned to Hope with a smug look, as if to say, See? I told you.


    Hope sighed, shaking his head as he handed over five gold coins, losing their bet for the 37th time.


    Fearing Leonardo might resurrect in his current state, they decided to administer poison beforehand. Leonardo, utterly unfazed by the idea of death, calmly drank the poison as though it were water.


    Here''s the second part of Chapter 29, translated into English and converted into the third person narrative style:


    Michael felt a chill run down his spine. As Leonardo took his last breath, he looked directly at Michael and smiled brightly¡ªan unsettling sight for someone moments from death.


    He felt no desire to revive him. But leaving someone who had paid the price for their sins without completing their penance wouldn''t sit right. Reluctantly, Michael hesitantly placed his hand on Leonardo''s corpse.


    Once again, the knowledge of what to do came instinctively.


    "Resurrectionis electio."


    Leonardo revived, his pale, bloodless face smiling eerily as he knelt before Michael. His crimson eyes glowed unnaturally¡ªan appearance that would surely invite fiery judgment if he stepped outside.


    "Grandfather¡­ I don''t think he came back as a human," Michael remarked, his voice uneasy. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Alfred studied Leonardo for a long moment.


    "He''s become a yoma," Alfred declared. "Things have just gotten more complicated."


    At the mention of the word yoma, Leonardo''s head snapped up in alarm.


    "A yoma? Are you saying I''ve become a yoma? Oh, this is¡­"


    Before Leonardo could finish, Michael interrupted, "I didn''t expect this power to work like this¡­"


    But before he could elaborate, Leonardo raised his hands in excitement, cutting him off.


    "This is incredible! I''ve always wanted to be different from everyone else!"


    "¡­Oh. Well, if you''re happy about it, I suppose that''s fine¡­" Michael muttered, unsure how to respond to the enthusiasm.


    As Michael watched Leonardo in disbelief, he turned to Alfred and asked, "Even if he''s useful, we can''t exactly take him anywhere like this, can we?"


    Alfred gave Michael a curious look.


    "That''s not an issue. All you need to do is register him as a familiar with the central office in the capital. Of course, it''ll complicate matters since I''ll have to go personally," Alfred explained.


    "Wait¡­ register him as a familiar?" Michael asked, confused.


    "Exactly. Did you think yoma didn''t exist in this world? Far from it. The capital even has an office specifically for managing registered yoma. As long as he''s registered properly, it won''t be a problem¡ªso long as we avoid the Church of Radiance''s territories."


    Michael frowned, his assumptions about the world shaken.


    "I thought all yoma and demons were burned at the stake¡­"


    "Demons, yes¡ªthey''re always burned. An unregistered yoma will be burned if caught causing trouble, and even registered ones will face the same fate if they harm humans without their master''s command."


    "So yoma can only act under human supervision?"


    "Precisely."


    Michael realized he had misunderstood Alfred all along. He had always envisioned his grandfather as a zealot who eradicated all evil beings indiscriminately. But in reality, Alfred was pragmatic, caring only about rightful vengeance and following a rational approach in most matters.


    "So, all we need to do is register Leonardo at this central office?" Michael asked.


    "Exactly. Most of the maids and servants in executioner households are such beings. They''re convenient, and they live forever. Our family didn''t need one before, but now we have one," Alfred said.


    Leonardo, who had looked uneasy at first, seemed to relax as the conversation went on.


    "Still, Leonardo," Alfred said, his tone turning critical, "you''re a yoma now, but you can''t even manage your appearance?"


    Leonardo blinked, realization dawning. He began touching his body, and moments later, his scrawny frame and unkempt hair transformed into that of a handsome man.


    "This¡­ this is amazing! I''m so glad I''ve been given the chance to serve you, Master!" Leonardo exclaimed, his eyes brimming with tears as he admired his new appearance.


    Michael sighed, torn between sympathy and exhaustion.


    "Well, Grandfather, I was already planning to travel to the capital soon for my heir appointment. Why don''t we take him with us then?"


    "That works. I''ll arrange for permission to leave the five estates under my jurisdiction," Alfred replied.


    "By the way, Grandfather, why is it that executioners can''t leave their assigned territories without permission?"


    "Simple: overlapping jurisdictions would cause chaos. Each executioner family has inherited the duty of protecting its designated region, which includes wielding the ability to perceive the essence of others. When I leave my territory, my successor temporarily assumes my role. If I need to cross into someone else''s territory, I must get their approval first," Alfred explained.


    Michael nodded in understanding.


    "So until Leonardo is registered, he''ll have to remain hidden here," he said.


    Alfred smiled faintly.


    "I''ll issue the necessary documents. As an executioner and priest of the God of Death, I''ll certify him as an official familiar of this jurisdiction. That''ll ensure he won''t be suddenly taken away and burned."


    The fear Michael had once felt upon arriving in this world¡ªof being mistaken for a demon or the like and executed¡ªsuddenly felt laughable

 Chapter 58 Titles And Lands

    After all, yoma were fundamentally different from demons or Outsiders. While yoma were created from transformed spirits, animals, or human souls, demons and Outsiders were beings from entirely separate planes of existence.The distinction explained why yoma were treated differently.


    Michael smirked at the irony of the situation. Wasn''t the Church of Radiance''s behavior no different from the Outsider cults they vilified? Hidden away, gathering power in secret, the Church only seemed "divine" because its influence was already established.


    He quickly shook off the thought. In a world where divine eyes could land upon you at any moment, such musings were dangerous.


    Curious, Michael asked, "If Leonardo has become a yoma, what abilities has he gained?"


    Alfred took a sip of tea, courtesy of Clara, before responding.


    "Not all yoma gain special abilities, but ones created like this often do. Given Leonardo''s prior gift from the Outsider, it''s likely his abilities have evolved."


    Leonardo beamed with excitement.


    "Indeed, Master! I can feel it. My original persuasion ability has expanded into the realms of hypnosis and suggestion. Should I demonstrate by charming this woman here?"


    It seemed becoming a yoma hadn''t improved Leonardo''s social awareness.


    Michael shook his head in exasperation.


    "She''s my aunt. Treat her with the same respect you show me."


    Startled, Leonardo quickly apologized.


    "Oh, my deepest apologies, my lady!"


    Clara, ever unfazed by unusual personalities, smiled warmly and reassured him.


    "It''s fine, really. Just relax. By the way, could you chop some firewood outside? And while you''re at it, maybe do some laundry too."


    Her cheerful, nonchalant tone as she assigned chores left Michael speechless.


    Indeed, the true ruler of the house was Clara.


    At that moment, Court Marquis Woodrock sat in his opulent study alongside Count Charles, reviewing a missive from the royal palace. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting shadows across the room and accentuating the refined elegance of the estate.


    The walls were lined with centuries-old tomes and exquisite artwork, while the heavy cherrywood desk bore neatly arranged documents adorned with intricate insignias.


    "So, they''re quietly asking us to investigate the whereabouts of the blood quill¡­" Marquis Woodrock mused, folding the missive carefully and setting it aside.


    He looked up, his expression thoughtful.


    "Count Charles, you thoroughly searched Crowley Castle, didn''t you? From my perspective, it seems likely that this Nicholas fellow fled to the Church of Radiance with the quill. Didn''t they find a teleportation circle in the room he used as his sanctum?"


    Count Charles hesitated momentarily before nodding. Stay tuned with My Virtual Library Empire


    "Yes, I think so too. There''s no way to track him now, and the evidence points to the quill being returned to the Church of Radiance. We''ve already uncovered proof that their agents deliberately approached Nicholas and Leonardo," he said, his tone dark and heavy.


    Marquis Woodrock snorted in disdain.


    "Ha! Those brazen cowards. I hear they''re now accusing us of hiding the blood quill. Such audacity from people who dare to call themselves priests."


    He threw the document onto his desk with a show of anger. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Count Charles nodded, sharing the Marquis''s frustration.


    "Indeed. Truly despicable. They preemptively smuggled the quill away, and now they''re accusing us of concealing it. It''s infuriating," Charles said with a weary sigh.


    Marquis Woodrock turned toward the window, gazing out thoughtfully.


    "Still, with the Church of Radiance having retrieved the quill, there''s no guarantee they won''t cause another uproar, is there?"


    He glanced back at Count Charles, who responded with firm resolve.


    "They''ve suffered a severe humiliation, and their baseless accusations against us suggest they''re desperate to deflect blame. It''s likely they''ll keep the quill hidden away for good this time, both to avoid further scandal and to obscure their own sins," Charles said confidently.


    Marquis Woodrock mulled over this for a moment before nodding.


    "Fair point. If the quill reappeared, it would be like smearing filth on their own faces."


    He allowed himself a faint smile of relief. Count Charles returned the expression, reassured.


    "So I think we can rest easy on that front," Charles concluded.


    The Marquis''s tense features relaxed slightly.


    "Still, their cunning knows no bounds. Their bold accusations are likely a preemptive move to dissuade us from demanding greater compensation," Woodrock observed.


    Charles nodded in agreement.


    "Exactly. Infuriating as it is, at least we''ve secured a significant benefit: exemption from tithes. That alone is a win for us," he said, a small, satisfied smile spreading across his face. His eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of someone who had scored a minor victory over the Church.


    Marquis Woodrock unfolded the missive once more, tapping his desk thoughtfully.


    "I hear that young Michael of House Crassus distinguished himself during this ordeal. What''s your impression of him?"


    There was a trace of curiosity, perhaps even envy, in the Marquis''s voice. While he acknowledged Michael''s accomplishments, there was a subtle undertone of resentment¡ªan unspoken comparison to his own son, who had yet to receive such recognition.


    Charles''s reply carried a hint of tension.


    "He''s a decent man. I had my son Louis spend some time with him, and the boy said Michael was both competent and virtuous. From what I''ve seen, he''s an exceptional talent, particularly in training soldiers. I even considered proposing a marriage alliance by offering my illegitimate daughter, but¡­ I didn''t want to risk straining relations over her status, so I dropped the idea altogether," Charles admitted, his tone tinged with regret.


    Marquis Woodrock watched Charles''s expression with interest, detecting the faintest trace of jealousy.


    "I see. If he''s of that caliber, then it''s no surprise the royal palace is considering raising his title and expanding his lands," Woodrock remarked casually.


    Charles''s eyes widened in shock.


    "An elevation in rank and additional lands?"


    He sank back into his chair, struggling to process the news. Jealousy and wariness swirled within him at the prospect of House Crassus receiving such a substantial reward.


    "That''s¡­ problematic," Charles murmured. "House Crassus holds one of the five baronies carved from the old Barkley Earldom, shared among five vassals. Expanding their territory would cause significant backlash from the others. They swore a pact among themselves to prevent just such an occurrence."


    His voice carried both genuine concern and thinly veiled resentment.

 Chapter 59 New Era of Pioneering

    Marquis Woodrock smiled knowingly, as though already privy to the royal court''s plans."Perhaps they''ll be granted one of the newly designated frontier lands instead," he suggested, his tone brimming with confidence.


    Understanding dawned on Charles, and he nodded. A mixture of emotions flitted across his face¡ªthough jealousy and apprehension remained, the prospect of House Crassus being assigned a distant, undeveloped territory offered some consolation.


    "Ah, that makes sense," Charles said, his tone noticeably lighter.


    "Besides, that region has been rife with conflict with the Pamir Empire. Assigning it to a capable leader would be a logical choice," he added, his voice now carrying a note of approval.


    "Still, that sounds more like a punishment than a reward. Ha! Not that I''m complaining¡ªfewer competitors for me," Charles quipped with a laugh, masking his mixed feelings of pity and relief at House Crassus''s predicament.


    Marquis Woodrock chuckled in agreement.


    "House Crassus is a rising noble family with little influence in the central court," Charles remarked. "It seems their significant gains from the Crowley territory have irritated the two viscounts. They probably think House Crassus stole what should have been theirs."


    Marquis Woodrock nodded in agreement.


    "That''s likely. The viscounts have strong ties to the central court, so they won''t tolerate House Crassus gaining more power. However, with a title promotion and a territory several times larger than their current holdings, they can''t outright oppose it."


    The viscounts, as long-established noble houses deeply entrenched in central politics, viewed the success of the emerging House Crassus with jealousy and suspicion. Fearing that their influence and power might be diminished, they were likely planning ways to undermine Crassus''s growth.


    "Those two viscounts are always shrewd political players," Charles continued.


    "They won''t sit idly by while House Crassus strengthens its position. They''ll undoubtedly take measures to curb their influence, whether by applying political pressure through their central connections or by stirring unrest within Crassus''s new territory."


    The Marquis nodded, his expression grim.


    "Indeed. The viscount houses will do whatever it takes to protect their interests. They won''t stand by and let Baron Crassus rise to the rank of viscount and wield even greater power."


    Charles, too, reflected on the viscounts'' complex political maneuvers.


    "In the end, this is all about the struggle for power and influence. House Crassus may grow stronger from this opportunity, but they''ll face considerable challenges along the way," he said.


    Tension hung heavy in the room. Marquis Woodrock, wary of northeastern nobles gaining too much authority, and Charles, uneasy about the rise of new powers, both pondered their next moves.


    "Well, at least we can breathe a little easier," the Marquis said finally, breaking the silence. "If they''re sent to the frontier, it''ll be less of a headache for us. Ha!"


    The two men shared a laugh, their earlier tension easing as the room''s atmosphere lightened. The elegant study returned to its usual tranquil state.


    The next morning, a royal messenger arrived at Crassus Manor.


    The morning sunlight gleamed off the high towers of the estate, and the fresh spring breeze swept over the castle walls.


    Michael and Baron Crassus stood by the castle gates, awaiting the messenger.


    As the gates opened, the royal courier entered, bearing a scroll embossed with the ornate seal of the royal palace.


    The atmosphere within the castle grew tense. Servants and guards paused their work to watch the courier, curiosity etched on their faces.


    The baron and Michael greeted the messenger and escorted him to the great hall.


    With a bow, the courier began to speak.


    "Baron Crassus, Sir Michael, I bring an important decree from His Majesty, King Charles V."


    Baron Crassus accepted the scroll, broke the seal, and unrolled the parchment. All eyes in the room were fixed on his hands.


    Taking a deep breath, the baron read the decree aloud:


    "By the order of Charles V, rightful and just king of the Kingdom of Lania, Baron Crassus is hereby elevated to the rank of viscount and tasked with pioneering a new territory in the northern frontier."


    A heavy silence descended on the hall.


    Then, murmurs began to spread among the assembled retainers, their hushed voices growing louder as the implications sank in. Enjoy new stories from My Virtual Library Empire


    "This makes no sense!" one retainer hissed, his face flushed with anger.


    "They want us to abandon our current land and move to the frontier? What kind of decree is this?"


    Another clenched his fists, his voice trembling with unease.


    "Why would the king disregard us and make such a decision?"


    As the murmurs turned into a clamor, indignation and fear filled the room.


    "This is absurd! Pioneering the frontier is dangerous!" a retainer shouted. His eyes burned with both dread and fury.


    "Leave a stable territory to settle in some uncharted wilderness? The title promotion is just sugarcoating¡ªthey''re trying to rein us in!"


    The growing uproar began to unsettle the royal messenger. Sensing the tension, Baron Crassus raised his hand, his voice cutting through the noise.


    "Enough! Quiet down!"


    The baron''s firm tone brought a measure of calm.


    "Listen. This isn''t all bad news. The new territory we''ve been granted is five times the size of our current lands. True, it''s on the frontier, but with effort and cultivation, it could far surpass what we have now. Haven''t we already dealt with constant friction from neighboring lords here?"


    His voice carried both authority and reason, momentarily soothing the crowd. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael stepped forward to support his father.


    "From my perspective, our current territory has little room for further development," Michael began.


    "As you know, our barony was once part of a larger earldom, divided among five barons. The boundaries are too tightly packed, and the covenant made during the division prevents us from expanding further. Isn''t that correct?"


    Several retainers nodded reluctantly, acknowledging the truth in Michael''s words.


    He paused, giving them time to absorb his argument.


    While the new territory promised many dangers and challenges, it also held the potential for growth and prosperity. Considering the ongoing disputes over boundaries with neighboring lords, starting fresh in an unclaimed land might be a wiser course.

 Chapter 60 Harsh Reality

    One retainer spoke up hesitantly."Sir Michael has a point. Pioneering new land is risky, but if successful, the rewards could be immense."


    Another chimed in, his tone more thoughtful.


    "True. Our current land has been nothing but a source of contention with neighboring lords. With no opportunity for territorial expansion, it''s become a burden. Starting anew might be the better choice."


    Seeing the gradual shift in his retainers'' attitudes, Baron Crassus exchanged a glance with Michael.


    The decree was final; there was no room for negotiation. But Michael''s timely reasoning had quelled much of the initial unrest. S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The baron gave his son an approving nod before addressing the room.


    "Exactly. Let''s approach this as an opportunity rather than a setback. It won''t be easy, but if we work together, we can make this new land our own and create a brighter future."


    The retainers began nodding, their resolve slowly solidifying. While traces of unease and resentment remained, they understood they had little choice but to accept.


    Watching the scene unfold, Michael thought to himself:


    Tackling the challenges of our current land seemed overwhelming, but perhaps this change is a blessing in disguise.


    A new era of pioneering was about to begin.


    Michael contemplated the most critical task for developing the new territory. Was it establishing efficient transportation or improving the environment? No. The foremost priority was securing talent.


    This had long been an issue for House Crassus. As a relatively new noble family¡ªseparated from the Barclay Earldom 300 years ago¡ªthey lacked the prestige of an ancient lineage. The stigma of betrayal hung over their name, tarnishing their reputation and limiting their ability to attract talented individuals.


    Most of the current retainers were descendants of families who had served the Crassus estate for generations. Recruiting new talent was challenging, and even retaining existing personnel was a struggle.


    Michael gazed out of his study window at the vast plains and forests stretching across the horizon. Despite the picturesque landscape, his thoughts remained heavy. Leaving behind the familiar to pioneer new lands was no small task. Michael''s vision wasn''t merely territorial expansion¡ªit was true development, where knowledge and technology flourished.


    But the reality was harsh.


    The great noble houses monopolized knowledge and hoarded talent, while smaller houses suffered from a severe shortage of capable individuals.


    Seated in his study, Michael reflected on the past. His memories reminded him of the many academies scattered across the continent. However, the graduates of these academies were often tied to powerful patrons or noble houses with established reputations. Those free to choose their paths were so exceptional that House Crassus could hardly hope to attract them¡ªneither their wealth nor their honor was sufficient to compete.


    Michael knew how dire the situation was. For House Crassus to overcome its limitations as an upstart noble house, he needed a novel approach.


    Summoning Leonardo to his study, Michael hoped the talented artifact artisan might have connections to the academies or mage towers.


    Leonardo, who had become a yoma, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his new existence. His loyalty to Michael was as overwhelming as it was unsettling.


    Led by Alex, Michael''s squire, Leonardo entered the study, visibly excited. His transformed appearance was striking¡ªhis towering frame, muscular build, and handsome features, crowned with long black hair, bore little resemblance to his former self.


    Yet, Michael found it unnerving.


    Having such a strikingly handsome man gazing at him with adoration in his eyes was nothing short of uncomfortable.


    "Leonardo, take a seat," Michael instructed, gesturing toward a chair.


    Leonardo obeyed without hesitation, settling into the seat as he awaited orders.


    Since gaining new powers as a yoma, Leonardo had devoted himself to crafting new scripture for Michael, viewing him as a divine figure. Even with the Outsider sealed and gone, Leonardo''s devotion had not wavered.


    In truth, his former worship of the spider-like Outsider had shifted entirely to Michael. His mind teemed with plans to establish a religion around Michael, complete with sacred texts.


    Michael would have been horrified if he knew.


    "Master, your humble servant has come at your call. What is it that you require of me?" Leonardo asked, his tone reverent.


    Michael sighed. While the excessive loyalty was appreciated in a way, it was more unsettling than reassuring.


    "Leonardo, which mage towers have you studied at?" Michael asked, steering the conversation toward the matter at hand.


    Leonardo paused briefly before answering.


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    "I was born and raised in the Church of Radiance and first enrolled at the Bronia Academy within its domain," he began, his voice tinged with the bitterness of unpleasant memories. The rigid rules and religious indoctrination of Bronia had suffocated his spirit.


    "But their incessant preaching and strictness drove me away. I fled to the Pamir Empire, only to find their approach overly militant. They were obsessed with battle magic, and the so-called mages focused solely on creating combat spells. I wanted something more scholarly, so I left for the Kingdom of Celeste."


    A faint smile graced Leonardo''s face at the mention of Celeste.


    "It truly lived up to its reputation as a center of art and learning. I became the apprentice of an artifact artisan and learned many things. Unfortunately, I had to flee again when my master decided to marry me off to his daughter. I had no interest in marriage. After that, I wandered the continent, studying at various mage towers, until I eventually met my previous master. But all that is in the past now. Ever since meeting you, I''ve realized my former allegiance meant nothing."


    Leonardo''s voice brimmed with satisfaction as he gazed at Michael with fervent eyes. The intensity of his devotion made Michael''s head ache.


    Still, in this remote region, someone of Leonardo''s caliber was a rare gem. Michael knew he had to make the most of it.


    "I need your help to recruit and cultivate talent," Michael said. "Do you know anyone worth bringing here? It doesn''t matter what field they excel in, as long as they''re exceptional. How can we attract academy-trained individuals to join us?"

 Chapter 61 Attract Talents

    Leonardo''s eyes gleamed with renewed zeal."My lord, to be of service to you is the greatest honor! I''ve already thought of a way! With your resources, we can entice them easily!"


    "Tell me specifically how we''d do that," Michael prompted, wary of Leonardo''s intensity but intrigued nonetheless.


    Leonardo flashed a radiant smile that sent a shiver down Michael''s spine. It was the kind of unnerving grin that reminded him of a famous villain from his past life''s movies.


    "It''s simple! You, my lord, are a dragon knight and have a sphinx under your command. What is there to hesitate about? Just let it be known that scholars can come here to study your dragon and sphinx, and the mad mages will swarm in like bees to honey. The knights trying to breed magical beasts using dragon blood will be no different!"


    Michael sat silently, pondering Leonardo''s bold suggestion. He replayed the words in his mind.


    Of course, he thought. I''ve been viewing this situation too much from a modern perspective. Sometimes, you fail to recognize the value of what''s right in front of you.


    Leonardo''s words had opened his eyes to the unique opportunity presented by the presence of Miaomiao, the sphinx, and Markus, the dragon. He had underestimated how their existence could captivate the minds of others and draw unparalleled attention.


    A flicker of excitement lit up within him as he realized the potential.


    "Are you saying the sphinx and the dragon could be enough to lure talented individuals here?" Michael asked, still processing the idea.


    Leonardo nodded vigorously.


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    "Absolutely, my lord! Magicians are always on the hunt for new knowledge and research opportunities. There are only seven dragon knights across the continent, and I can assure you, none of their dragons are as approachable as Markus. Moreover, the prospect of researching magical beasts using dragon blood is irresistible to knights with their own beasts. Many of them are high-ranking nobles or influential figures who could become your patrons.


    "And let''s not forget the sphinx. The chance to converse with such a rare and mythical creature would have the archmages lining up at your doorstep! If you make your presence known during your upcoming trip to the capital, I bet you''ll return with a retinue of scholars and knights. They''ll be flocking to your banner like moths to a flame!"


    The audacity of the plan left Michael momentarily speechless.


    "But... wouldn''t that be dangerous?" he asked cautiously. "Wouldn''t attracting so much attention make us a target for jealousy from the major powers?"


    Leonardo scoffed, his confidence unwavering.


    "Hah! Who would dare provoke the wrath of a sphinx and a dragon? While they may not tilt the scale of a territorial war or a conflict between nations, they can certainly handle anyone foolish enough to be a ringleader. Even a king would think twice before meddling."


    Leonardo''s words brimmed with conviction, a testament to his understanding of the immense power embodied by the sphinx and the dragon. These were not mere magical beasts; the sphinx symbolized wisdom and mystery, while the dragon represented unmatched strength and destruction.


    Michael exhaled slowly, nodding in agreement.


    "I see. That''s reassuring. We''ll proceed with your plan to attract talent. If we can draw magicians and knights, bringing in other scholars should be even easier. Thank you, Leonardo. You''ve lightened my burden."


    Leonardo''s eyes welled with tears, his emotions spilling over.


    "To have my humble suggestion accepted by you, my lord it''s an honor beyond words!" he exclaimed, tears streaming down his face like chicken droplets.


    Michael watched the emotional display with a mix of awkwardness and exasperation. He wiped the sweat from his brow as Leonardo left the room, still sniffling with joy.


    "I can''t take much more of this," Michael muttered to himself before heading off to find his father, Baron Dominic.


    "Ah, Michael. What brings you here?" Dominic asked, his voice warm.


    "I wanted to discuss our plans for the upcoming trip to the capital," Michael replied.


    "Good timing," Dominic said, leaning forward. "I was about to call for you myself. With my title about to be elevated, I need to make preparations for the journey. What do you think about the size of the entourage we should take?"


    Michael, focused on the broader picture, began explaining his ideas and Leonardo''s proposal. As he spoke, Dominic''s expression brightened, his enthusiasm growing with each detail.


    When Michael finished, Dominic clapped his hands together.


    "Well, isn''t that a brilliant idea? To think those ''pets'' of yours are such incredible assets... Your grandfather should have sent them to us sooner. Haha! We''ve struck gold with this arrangement! But tell me, how did you manage to form a contract with the dragon? They''re known for their pride and only bond with those they deem worthy."


    Michael hesitated, then admitted reluctantly, "To be honest, it''s because Markus is... well, not the brightest."


    "Ah," Dominic murmured, nodding in understanding. "I see."


    After a moment of contemplation, he added, "No need to let anyone else know that. Let''s keep that little detail between us."


    "Understood," Michael said, inwardly sighing.


    Dominic seemed to consider something else. "Markus exudes a certain confidence when he''s silent. As long as he doesn''t speak too much, no one will suspect anything. We can use his natural greed to intimidate anyone who questions us."


    Satisfied with that plan, Michael shifted the conversation to a more pressing concern.


    "How do you plan to fund the pioneering efforts? The gold we earned from the Crowley campaign won''t be nearly enough."


    Dominic fell silent, his expression thoughtful, before responding.


    "First, we''ll collect contributions from our vassals. They''ve served our house faithfully all these years; it''s only fair they invest in this venture. Next, we can request funds from the freemen who wish to accompany us. They''ll see the opportunities in a new land and won''t mind making a small investment. As for the serfs, well, they''re ours by default. They don''t have a choice in the matter."


    Michael nodded, following his father''s logic.


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 Chapter 62 A Ride To The Capital

    Dominic continued, "Then there''s this estate. We don''t yet know who will inherit it, but we can certainly demand compensation. This land is the result of our family''s labor, and anyone taking it will owe us for that."We can also sell various rights¡ªpassage rights, hunting rights, and judicial privileges. These were hard-won by our house, and we can set a fair price for them. If anyone dares to contest that, well, let them try."


    Dominic''s confidence was contagious, and Michael''s spirits lifted.


    "You''re right," Michael agreed. "Those measures should provide substantial funding. And given that this relocation is by royal decree, we should also petition the crown for additional support. No, we should demand it."


    Dominic smiled approvingly.


    "Precisely. We''re entitled to compensation and assistance. The crown must have its reasons for relocating us, so we''ll ensure they provide adequate resources."


    Encouraged by the momentum of the conversation, Michael added, "It might also be worthwhile to court investors from the capital''s merchant class. If we bring renowned mages and knights to the frontier, we''ll certainly catch the merchants'' attention."


    Dominic''s expression brightened further.


    "Yes, the merchants are always eager to seize new opportunities. And don''t forget, we can also draw on connections from the in-laws of your sisters. That''s the whole point of building strong marriage alliances." Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Dominic cast a proud look at his son, his thoughts briefly drifting to Michael''s future.


    No, it was too soon to consider marriage for him. Michael was still young, with so much potential ahead.


    "For now, let''s finalize our plans for the entourage," Dominic said.


    Michael smiled, a sense of anticipation filling him.


    With the entourage decided and the season turning warmer, the journey to the capital would soon begin.


    The fortress of Namjang was filled with tension and energy. The morning sunlight bathed the walls, wrapping the entire fortress in a warm embrace. The weather was pleasantly mild¡ªperfect for traveling.


    In the expansive courtyard within the fortress, people bustled about. Fifty selected guards exchanged conversations with their visiting families. Greg, officially appointed as the barony''s blacksmith, inspected weapons and shields with precision.


    Inside the living quarters of the baron and his family, the sharp voice of Elizabeth echoed through the halls.


    "Anna! We''ll need more muslin cloth. What we have isn''t even enough to polish the pauldrons! Brianna! Help me wrap Father''s and Michael''s dress uniforms in parchment paper."


    The head maid, Anna, and Elizabeth''s personal attendant, Brianna, moved swiftly. They had to embroider the surcoats and cloaks with the newly crafted family crest for the knighting ceremony and prepare the formal dress uniforms for the ball. They also packed elaborate hats, pauldrons, gauntlets, and boots into boxes, locking them securely. The endless list of travel necessities left them overwhelmed.


    In the great hall, Oliver, the steward, inspected the retainers'' preparations. He meticulously examined their luggage, ensuring that anything excessive was reduced and any deficiencies were supplemented.


    At the stables, Paul, the stable master, conducted a final check of the horses. He brushed their manes and looked each of them in the eye.


    "Don''t worry, my friends. We''ll make it back safely."


    The harnesses were all inspected, and everything was set for departure.


    In the kitchen on the first floor, Margaret, the head chef, prepared provisions for the journey. She instructed the servants to pack bread, smoked meat, dried rations, and separately include fruits and vegetables. The servants moved briskly, placing the food into baskets and loading them for transport.


    At the chapel within the fortress, Edward, the priest of the Radiant Church, offered a quiet prayer. Although the baron and Michael harbored grievances against the church, Edward himself was a devout and virtuous man. His solemn voice added a sense of sanctity and tranquility to the chapel.


    "O Lord of Light, our sanctuary and guide, please bless this journey and grant us safety."


    Behind him, the young Phoebe and Kate knelt in prayer, aware of how critical this trip to the capital was for their family. Find more chapters on My Virtual Library Empire


    In the library, Michael, the scribe, organized the documents necessary for the knighting ceremony. With his strict demeanor, he carefully reviewed the papers spread across his desk, ensuring that no details were overlooked.


    After what seemed like preparations that would never end, everything was finally ready. Dominic and Michael gathered with their retainers in front of the gate. Dominic addressed Lawrence, the treasurer.


    "Is the budget well-prepared?"


    Lawrence replied with confidence. "Of course, my lord. All expenses are accounted for within the budget."


    The baron turned to the soldiers and shouted, "This journey is of utmost importance. I expect everyone to be fully prepared!"


    The soldiers responded with a unified nod and resounding cheers. At the front, Sir Ronald raised the banner high. The golden embroidery of a roaring sphinx and dragon gleamed under the sunlight¡ªa new crest for House Crassus, designed by Leonardo himself. The imagery of the sphinx and dragon seemed to prophesize the family''s future prosperity.


    With their thorough preparations complete, the entourage passed through the fortress gates, accompanied by the farewells of their families. At the rear, the healer Hope and Carl rode on horseback. Michael and his squire, Julian, rode in a carriage to accommodate the sphinx Miaomiao and the dragon Marcus.


    Dominic had hoped to join them but was driven off by Miaomiao''s hissing protests. Other squires, Alex and Anthony, flanked the carriage to guard it, while Leonardo himself took the reins as the coachman, having ousted the original driver in his determination to claim the honor of driving Michael''s carriage.


    Unexpectedly, the group also included the Baron of Kensington. Officially, he claimed to be traveling to sell his prized "Rainbow Plus" colt in the capital, but everyone knew his real goal was Miaomiao and Marcus. Like Dominic, however, he failed to secure a seat in the carriage.


    The carriage itself was a masterpiece. Specially crafted by the village carpenters and blacksmiths, it was designed to ensure smooth travel for the sphinx and dragon. The exterior was built from sturdy oak, adorned with intricate carvings and gilded accents showcasing the family crest. Its steel-reinforced wheels made it suitable for any terrain, and the door was fortified with metal locks for safety.

 Chapter 63 Collapsed Road

    The windows were custom-made artifacts by Leonardo, worth tens of thousands of gold. The magical glass allowed those inside to see out, but not the reverse, a feature that was sure to delight the ladies of the capital.Inside, a plush chair was set up for Miaomiao, while Marcus had his portable nest¡ªa luxurious creation lined with gold-threaded brocade. True to his dragon nature, Marcus lounged in his nest, clutching gemstones from his recent spoils in his claws as he dozed off. Watching him, Miaomiao clicked her tongue.


    [What a lazy dragon. Hey! Wake up, will you?]


    Startled by Miaomiao''s prodding, Marcus groggily opened his eyes. [What is it now, sister? Do you need something?]


    [Ha! All you do is eat and sleep. You''re no different from a baby chick. Why don''t we just call you ''Peep''?]


    [Call me whatever you want, sister. Just know that if anyone else tries, they''ll be my next meal.]


    Exasperated by his indifference, Miaomiao sighed deeply. What a dull reaction! Maybe she''d go and bother Hope instead.


    Michael watched the pair with a satisfied smile. It was good to see them getting along. Julian, however, had his hands full serving them. From trimming Miaomiao''s claws to brushing her fur, and ensuring Marcus''s meals were on time, the young squire found himself handling more beastly errands than knightly duties. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It felt odd, but it wasn''t all bad. Who knew what opportunities might arise?


    There was speculation about whether Michael''s growing affinity with the beasts might one day make him a Beast Rider upon his knightly awakening. The most common method of acquiring a beast companion was to venture into the Drago Mountains and test one''s luck. However, knights who ventured there usually met one of two fates: either they emerged with a beast or they themselves became a mutated monster.


    Everyone dreamed of finding a high-grade beast capable of intelligent communication, but such fortune was rare. This was why beast breeding and the sale of young beasts flourished as businesses¡ªmoney offered a safer alternative to risk.


    Michael harbored hopes that as his territory prospered, it might eventually support beast breeding. Perhaps, like the Wyvern Battalions of the Radiant Kingdom, his lands could develop a lineage of wyverns bred for military might. Theoretically, the purified blood of a dragon could elevate a lesser beast''s bloodline, and when used on a pregnant beast, it often resulted in offspring of a higher grade than their parents. For this reason, Michael knew he had to maintain Marcus''s goodwill.


    The journey grew monotonous, and Miaomiao seemed endlessly restless, constantly seeking to play.


    [Marcus, you little chick! Are you napping again? Ugh, seriously¡­ wake up already!]


    "Miaomiao, stop bothering Max. He still needs time to fully heal from his injuries," Michael said, his tone calm but firm.


    Momentarily hesitating, Miaomiao reached out and gently patted Marcus''s head. Marcus mumbled incoherently before burying his snout in his wings and drifting back to sleep.


    [Chick-like as ever. Sigh¡­ Michael, give me another riddle. The last one was quite good, you know.]


    Michael smiled at the bored sphinx. To maintain peace inside the carriage, he decided another riddle might be in order.


    "Hmm¡­ Alright, here''s a tougher one this time. Try to solve it."


    He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then spoke in a serious tone.


    "I have no house, yet I enter people''s homes. I have no wings, yet I''m always flying. What am I?"


    Miaomiao grew quiet as she pondered the question. The carriage fell into a serene calm once again. Michael gazed out the window, contemplating the journey ahead as the carriage rocked gently along the road.


    After some time, Miaomiao''s triumphant voice broke the silence.


    [Got it! It''s the wind! It''s wind, isn''t it, Michael?]


    "Wow, as expected of the wise sphinx! That''s correct, Miaomiao," Michael praised her.


    Pleased with the compliment, Miaomiao raised her tail high, the tip quivering with pride.


    [Hmph! Another one! Give me another riddle!] Explore stories on My Virtual Library Empire


    "Alright, alright. Here''s one more," Michael replied with a chuckle. After thinking for a moment, he posed the next question.


    "I have thousands of leaves, yet I am not a tree. What am I?"


    Miaomiao''s tail flicked as she delved into deep thought again. Just as she was about to answer, a loud commotion erupted from outside.


    The carriage came to an abrupt halt, jolting Marcus awake. Michael quickly opened the carriage door to assess the situation.


    "What''s going on?" he asked.


    Anthony, who was standing guard nearby, responded immediately.


    "My lord, the road ahead has collapsed. It appears to be blocked. Alex has gone ahead to investigate."


    Michael moved to step out of the carriage, but both Miaomiao and Leonardo stopped him. Reluctantly, he issued instructions through Anthony.


    "Remain on alert! Inspect the surroundings and ensure the safety of my father and Baron Kensington. Where is Grandfather?"


    The soldiers quickly drew their weapons and surrounded the carriage in a defensive formation. Leonardo leapt onto the roof of the carriage to get a better view.


    "The baron and the¡­ uh, monster¡ªno, I mean, your grandfather¡ªare safe, my lord," Leonardo reported. "The baron is with Baron Kensington under the soldiers'' protection, and your grandfather is with Hope. Fortunately, no one appears to be injured."


    Despite this reassurance, the situation demanded caution. A road collapse on the main route to the capital was far from ordinary. There had been no recent heavy rains to explain such an occurrence.


    Michael gave Anthony another order.


    "This doesn''t seem accidental. Divide the soldiers¡ªhalf will guard the carriage, and the rest will scout the area. Report anything unusual immediately."


    Anthony nodded and sprinted off. Leonardo, perched atop the carriage, scanned the horizon with sharp, reddened eyes.


    Suddenly, Michael felt a surge of foreboding. Drawing his sword, he thrust it downward into the carriage floor.


    A spray of blood and a sharp scream followed. At the same time, Miaomiao''s massive paw slammed into the air with crushing force. Her claws tore through the shadow of a man attempting to sneak beneath the carriage.

 Chapter 64 Eliminate Everyone And Hide the Inside Story

    Michael adjusted his stance and leapt out of the carriage. The scene outside was already chaos.Enemies, emerging from the fractured ground, clashed fiercely with the trained soldiers. Sir Ronald battled multiple foes simultaneously, while Michael''s father and Baron Kensington fought with intensity.


    Carl''s shadow magic ensnared and crushed several assassins at once, driving them into the ground.


    Drawing his sword, Michael charged into the fray. When an enemy blocked his path, he swiftly ducked and slashed at the man''s legs, sending him to the ground screaming. Without hesitation, Michael finished him off before moving on to the next target.


    "Hold the defensive line as trained! Form groups of five and drive the enemy back!" Michael shouted.


    As more assassins surged forward, Leonardo threw himself into their path, howling in desperation to protect his master. However, he was quickly overwhelmed, and it was Miaomiao who saved him.


    [You fool! Why are you rushing in when your ability is confusion magic, you idiot?!]


    Now larger than a Siberian tiger, Miaomiao shoved Leonardo aside with her tail before ripping the assassin apart with her claws. Shaking the blood from her paw, she grabbed Michael and flew toward Carl.


    Yes, Miaomiao had wings.


    Carl barely spared them a glance as he continued to crush assassins with his shadow magic. His relentless assault began to push the enemy back. The soldiers, moving in coordination with Michael''s commands, formed a protective circle around the baron and Baron Kensington.


    When the battle finally ended, the area fell silent. Michael stepped forward to assess the situation, flanked by Miaomiao and Carl. Discover exclusive tales on My Virtual Library Empire


    Although Marcus''s wings had not fully healed, his draconic aggression seemed to boil over, leaving him visibly agitated.


    "Is everyone safe?" Michael asked.


    Fortunately, there were no fatalities among their party. This was thanks to Miaomiao and Carl''s heroics, Michael''s leadership, and the combined strength of Sir Ronald and Baron Kensington.


    The visibly shaken Baron Crassus rushed toward Michael.


    "Are you alright? Grandfather, are you unharmed?"


    Carl, unimpressed by Dominic''s concern, turned his gaze away. His eyes fell on several captured enemies.


    "Well, we''ve got some survivors. Let''s prepare for an interrogation, Michael," he said, his voice dark with intent.


    Excited by the prospect, Michael stepped forward, only to have Leonardo block his path.


    "My lord! There''s no need to dirty your hands. With my confusion magic, I can¡ª"


    Leonardo faltered mid-sentence, bewildered by the expression on Michael''s face.


    "Why is my lord looking at me like that¡­?" Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Although they didn''t resort to torture, Leonardo''s hypnosis ability proved exceptionally effective and fast. As his crimson-red eyes locked with the assassin''s, the latter''s pupils dilated and his expression grew vacant.


    "Well, did everything go as planned?" Leonardo asked.


    "Yes, madam," the assassin replied robotically. "As ordered, we eliminated everyone from Crassus Barony. That brat Michael? We chopped off his limbs, left him writhing pathetically like an insect, and then beheaded him. Everything was done as instructed."


    "Is that so? Do you know who I am?" Leonardo''s voice carried a probing edge.


    "Of course, you''re the mistress of the household, aren''t you? But don''t worry, we assassins guarantee confidentiality as part of our services," the assassin assured him.


    "And what household am I mistress of?" Leonardo continued.


    "Uh¡­ well, obviously the house of Bishop Orion. Why are you asking this?" the assassin said, puzzled.


    "I just wanted to ensure you knew exactly who you were dealing with. I was also curious whether my husband is aware of this operation."


    "Oh, right, you did specifically request us to handle this without the bishop''s knowledge. Don''t worry, I remember it clearly. By the way, about the remaining payment...?"


    "Hmm. You''ll receive it soon enough. For now, step back ten paces, clean your neck, and wait. Oh, and do you happen to know why I gave this order?"


    "I wouldn''t know, nor do I need to. All I care about is the payment. Please expedite it, madam," the assassin replied.


    Following his instructions, the man obediently stepped back ten paces and began rubbing his neck with his palm, completely entranced.


    "Well, it''s certainly cleaner than torture, I''ll give it that," Michael remarked, clicking his tongue in dissatisfaction. He turned his gaze to Dominic and his grandfather, Carl. The confession suggested that the person behind the assassination was likely the bishop''s mistress. If that was true...


    Dominic, who had been deep in thought, spoke. "It seems likely that one of the priests or holy knights recently extradited to the Radiant Kingdom is an illegitimate child of the bishop."


    Michael nodded. The scenario wasn''t surprising. He recalled how in medieval Christianity, such scandals were not uncommon. The Radiant Church in this world was even more corrupt, so the existence of illegitimate offspring among priests and knights wasn''t far-fetched.


    "If that''s the case, they likely intend to eliminate everyone involved and bury the matter entirely," Michael speculated. "They''re probably framing this as an individual''s misconduct to brush it under the rug."


    Dominic chuckled, impressed by his son''s quick analysis. "Exactly. It wouldn''t be surprising if they''re already dead, and we just haven''t received word yet."


    The baron''s assumption was correct.


    Several days earlier, Isabella, the long-time mistress of Bishop Orion, had been on the verge of madness after learning that her precious youngest son had been massacred while being extradited to the Radiant Kingdom.


    Despite being over sixty, Isabella appeared no older than forty¡ªa stunning beauty with fiery red hair. She lay sprawled across the marble floor, wailing in anguish.


    "My lord! I cannot accept this! Why did our dear Orpheus have to die like that? Couldn''t you have sacrificed someone else and saved him instead?"


    Bishop Orion''s face was pale as he grappled with the reality of his son''s death. It was especially painful knowing his own actions had led to it.


    "Enough! What do you expect me to do about it now? Not just Orpheus, but the entire Seventh Holy Knight Regiment was wiped out. Even the pope''s nephew was among the casualties. My hands were tied!" he barked.

 Chapter 65 My Precious Assets…No, My Loyal People

    Isabella''s sobbing grew louder, her grief almost unbearable to witness. Unable to stand it any longer, Orion pulled her to her feet, his hands firm but not unkind.Despite her tears, Isabella''s beauty remained unblemished. Decades as his mistress had not dulled her allure; if anything, her sorrow only added to her tragic charm. For nearly forty years, she had been his companion, a de facto wife in all but name. Seeing her so broken stirred something in Orion''s heart, but he quickly reined it in. His judgment remained cold and calculating.


    "Now, calm yourself," he said firmly. "I''m aware you sent assassins to Crassus Barony. That''s enough. Stop this now. Remember, you still have three sons left. And don''t forget, I have other children besides yours."


    Isabella''s tear-streaked face shot up in shock at the subtle but unmistakable warning in his tone. While Orion wasn''t inherently cruel, he was not a man who tolerated anyone crossing the line. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Yes, she needed to tread carefully. After losing one child already, she couldn''t risk alienating Orion further. Besides, she wasn''t the only mistress in his life.


    Slowly, Isabella composed herself and walked toward the velvet sofa in the reception room. Even in sorrow, her movements were graceful, her beauty undiminished. When she seemed sufficiently calm, Orion kissed her pale, soft forehead and left the room.


    The moment he was gone, however, Isabella''s demeanor changed completely. The grief-stricken expression vanished, replaced by one of pure venom. She tossed her handkerchief aside and summoned her maid.


    "Rosa! Fetch my contact with the assassins, immediately!"


    Rosa, who knew her mistress''s temperament well, approached her with trembling hands.


    "Madam¡­ do you really plan to continue this? Judging by the bishop''s reaction, wouldn''t it be better to stop here?"


    Isabella scoffed, her fiery gaze silencing the maid''s protests.


    "Hmph! Do you think you know him better than I do? Don''t worry. I know his limits. Judging by his response, the previous assassins failed. That was practically permission to try again. This will be the last time, though. If they fail again, I''ll bury the grudge in my heart."


    Her voice trembled as she spoke the final words, her resolve faltering briefly. No, this time would be different. She would hire the best assassin¡ªsomeone unrivaled in their craft¡ªand finally exact her revenge.


    Isabella steadied herself, ready to meet the contact from the assassin''s guild.


    Meanwhile, back at the Crassus camp, the baron and Michael worked swiftly to tend to the injured and reorganize their group. Under the direction of Treasurer Lawrence and Sir Ronald, the servants and guards moved with precision and efficiency.


    Michael approached Carl, who sat on a tree stump with Hope nearby.


    "Grandfather, wouldn''t it be safer for you to stay inside the carriage? Being out here seems dangerous," Michael said with concern.


    He hesitated, glancing at his grandfather, who towered over him at over 190 centimeters with a broad, muscular frame. It felt absurd to think he could protect Carl; if anything, he seemed more like someone who should be asking for Carl''s protection.


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    Noticing his grandson''s unease, Carl smiled reassuringly. "Don''t worry about me. I feel more at ease keeping watch out here, especially with the possibility of more trouble ahead. Besides, Miaomiao is guarding the interior of the carriage."


    Michael knew better than to argue. Carl''s overwhelming strength was a source of comfort to the group, and having him stand guard outside provided an extra layer of security.


    Even Dominic and Baron Kensington seemed to sense this, gradually inching closer to the carriage for added protection.


    Leonardo, meanwhile, worked on repairing the carriage''s damaged floor. The surviving assassins, still under his hypnosis, assisted him with surprising competence. Whether it was due to past experience as carpenters or Leonardo''s exceptional hypnotic control, their movements were remarkably coordinated.


    "Bring the spare planks over here," Leonardo instructed.


    One of the assassins immediately complied, handing him a wooden board. Leonardo fitted the plank into place, reinforcing it with magic before securing it tightly.


    His heart burned with determination.


    Leonardo''s hands trembled slightly as he watched the carriage''s repaired frame. His mistake had nearly endangered his master''s life. He swore silently that no carriage under his care would suffer such damage again.


    His eyes turned toward Paul, the stable master, who loitered nearby with a flustered expression. Paul had joined the journey intending to tend the horses and repair any damaged carriages, but Leonardo''s commanding presence left him with no opportunity to contribute.


    Paul glanced at Leonardo nervously, baffled by the squire''s intense glare. "Uh¡­ have these men worked as carpenters before?" he asked, his voice hesitant.


    Without looking up, Leonardo snapped, "Silence, human. How dare you question me?"


    Paul blinked in surprise. The squire appeared to be human, so why did he speak like that?


    Michael interjected with a calm but firm tone. "Leonardo, be polite to our companions. They''re valuable members of this party¡ªmy precious assets¡­ no, my loyal people."


    Paul gazed at Michael with admiration, though he couldn''t shake the feeling something strange had been said. Surely, it was just a misunderstanding.


    "Thank you, young master," Paul replied, bowing slightly.


    Chastened by Michael''s remark, Leonardo begrudgingly apologized. "My apologies. As a mage, I can use hypnosis to draw out individuals'' latent abilities. I''ve simply stimulated their craftsmanship through magic."


    To conceal his true nature as a fiend, Leonardo attributed his abilities to magic¡ªa plausible explanation for most, given that few humans knew much about magic, let alone practiced it. Paul, like many others, lacked the knowledge to question him further.


    The hypnotized assassins followed Leonardo''s instructions with remarkable efficiency, and the carriage steadily regained its original shape. Before long, it was completely repaired. As Leonardo dusted off his hands and stood, the assassins returned to their vacant, dazed states.


    Carl stepped forward and led the hypnotized assassins into the forest for judgment. Although he initially harbored a faint hope that they might be victims of circumstance¡ªorphans sold into the guild or individuals forced into a life of crime¡ªhis interrogation revealed the truth. These men reveled in murder, rape, and theft, making them irredeemable scum.

 Chapter 66 The Moon Shadows

    Their sentence was hanging.Carl selected sturdy branches, tied nooses, and hung each assassin one by one. Hanging was not only simpler than beheading but also served as a public warning when signs were placed beneath the bodies.


    After a time, all the lifeless bodies dangled from the branches, swaying gently. Among them was the corpse of the group''s apparent leader, which was brought to Michael. Carl, Miaomiao, and Michael had already decided that Michael would absorb abilities from only the most worthy targets, and this assassin fit the bill.


    Placing his hand on the limp body, Michael uttered the familiar incantation:


    "Absorptionem eligo!"


    As always, the process revealed the absorbed ability immediately.


    "Shadow Concealment!" Michael exclaimed.


    Jackpot. He had expected something mundane, like tracking or memorization skills, but this was an extraordinary find.


    The memory of the shadow that had tried to infiltrate the carriage earlier surfaced in his mind. Combined with his grandfather''s vast knowledge, Michael quickly connected the dots.


    When Michael glanced at Carl, his grandfather nodded knowingly. "Hmm. Moon Shadows. We''ve crossed paths with troublesome foes." Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Carl''s expression darkened slightly. "I had a friend once who was trained by the Moon Shadows. From a young age, they''re subjected to harsh training to become one with shadows. Their techniques differ from ordinary stealth; they become shadows, making them incredibly difficult to counter. Absorbing that ability was a stroke of luck. Try using it."


    Taking Carl''s suggestion, Michael surveyed his surroundings, seeking the darkest shadow nearby. Stepping into the dense shadows cast by the forest, Michael felt his body slowly merge with the darkness until he vanished entirely, as though absorbed by the void.


    His vision dimmed slightly, as if walking through the shadow itself. Quietly, he began to move, gliding through the darkness undetected.


    Despite his invisibility, Carl and Miaomiao tracked his movements with uncanny precision, their eyes following him as he moved. Michael navigated the shadows toward his father, Dominic.


    Dominic seemed to sense something momentarily, tilting his head slightly, but he quickly returned to his task. Michael passed by his father''s shadow and approached Sir Ronald and Baron Kensington.


    Neither man noticed his presence. Even the griffon accompanying Baron Kensington raised its head sharply, sensing something, but it failed to locate Michael. The creature''s uncertain growls only added to its unease.


    Michael marveled at the power''s potential. A skill that allowed him to evade detection and approach his target undetected¡ªit was perfect for reconnaissance and subterfuge. Against knights ranked below Grade Five or ordinary beasts, it would be unstoppable. Although he wouldn''t be able to bypass protective wards, the possibilities for this ability were endless.


    Returning to Carl and Miaomiao, Michael''s gaze shifted toward the remaining hanging corpses, his eyes glinting with greed.


    Carl intervened with a firm voice. "Enough. Upon examining the bodies, I can tell only two of them were Moon Shadows¡ªthe one you absorbed and the one Miaomiao killed. They''re not common, so don''t waste time on the rest."


    Accepting this, Michael nodded. "Grandfather, please tell me everything you know about the Moon Shadows."


    Carl shared his knowledge, recounting the Moon Shadows'' methods and history. With this information, Michael began to formulate a plan.


    Later, he approached his father.


    "Father," Michael began, "the assassins sent by the bishop''s mistress weren''t from an ordinary guild. They were Moon Shadows. According to what I''ve learned, the Moon Shadows start by sending mixed teams of novices and veterans. If the mission fails, they send their best operative for the final attempt. If even the best fails, there''s no further need for concern.


    "Instead of waiting for the next attack, I suggest we set a trap. I''ve already devised a plan."


    As Michael explained his strategy, Dominic''s expression grew brighter.


    "Yes, that''s the way forward," Dominic agreed.


    With renewed determination, the party set out once more. They needed to reach the Lancaster estate, where Julian''s father resided, by nightfall to put the plan into action.


    Sir Lancaster warmly welcomed the unexpected guests who arrived just before dinner. His estate, though not particularly large, was meticulously maintained, and the guards stationed at the entrance were well-trained and disciplined.


    The manor itself, situated at the heart of the estate, was a sturdy stone building of considerable size, containing multiple rooms and halls. Since the Lancasters had already sworn fealty to House Crassus, the visit was met with great hospitality¡ªfurther enhanced by the fact that Julian, Lancaster''s son, served as Michael''s squire.


    In the spacious hall of the manor, a pile of packed luggage indicated that the Lancaster family was also preparing to move to the new frontier lands. Julian''s mother, Ginevra, despite being occupied with organizing furniture and antiques for the journey, ensured that the guests were treated with the utmost care and courtesy.


    A large wooden table, adorned with holly and mistletoe, was placed in the center of the hall, creating a cozy atmosphere. As the guests took their designated seats, they were served an extravagant feast. Course after course of rare delicacies¡ªmeat, fish, bread, and fruit¡ªwere laid before them. Fine mead, wine, and dark beer flowed freely, adding to the meal''s splendor.


    Once the feast concluded, Baron Crassus sent the retainers to their assigned rooms and convened the core members of the group in the drawing room. Gathered there were Dominic, Carl, Hope, Michael, Leonardo, Sir Ronald, and Baron Kensington. The warm fire crackling in the hearth warded off the evening chill.


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    Sir Lancaster broke the silence first.


    "I heard there was trouble on your journey. You must have had a hard time. Is there anything I can do to assist you?"


    Dominic, sipping spiced mead to stave off his fatigue, responded with a weary but genial smile.


    "There is, in fact, something we need to ask of you. First, however¡­"


    At Dominic''s prompting, Sir Lancaster clapped his hands, dismissing the servants. Once the drawing room doors were closed, Dominic lowered his voice and began explaining Michael''s plan.


    The conversation unfolded against the soft, rhythmic crackling of the firewood. As the logs burned and the flames danced, the night deepened.


    "Here''s what I need you to create. Think you can manage it?"

 Chapter 67 Trap

    Michael handed Leonardo a detailed list of specifications. Upon reading it, Leonardo''s face lit up with enthusiasm."Of course, my lord! To be of service to you is the highest honor," he declared, his voice brimming with passion and resolve. Tears of joy glistened in his eyes as he immediately set to work.


    From his enchanted bag¡ªa spatial artifact¡ªLeonardo began pulling out an endless stream of tools and materials. Soon, the room Lancaster had provided for Michael was filled to the brim, leaving little space to maneuver.


    Leonardo commandeered the desk, sketching blueprints for the requested artifacts with a singular focus. His eyes, gleaming with a manic intensity, remained fixed on the intricate designs, while his hands moved swiftly and with precision.


    Michael, unable to tell him to work elsewhere, found himself observing the process. As he watched, he gained a renewed appreciation for Leonardo''s extraordinary skill as both an artifact craftsman and a mage.


    "He might be insane, but he''s serious when he works. Reviving him was worth it. Even if I''d absorbed his abilities, I doubt I''d achieve this level of efficiency."


    Unaware of Michael''s thoughts, Leonardo continued his frenetic pace. His unparalleled talent, combined with the stamina of his fiendish body, allowed him to work without rest. He became so absorbed in the task that he wouldn''t have noticed if Michael moved to another room.


    For two days straight, Leonardo meticulously assembled every piece, imbuing them with magical energy. By the time the final, most intricate artifact was completed, he jumped to his feet, shouting triumphantly.


    The results were stunning. Each artifact was crafted with precision and beauty, exceeding Michael''s expectations. While functionality was paramount, Leonardo took great pride in aesthetics, ensuring his creations were not only effective but also works of art.


    Carefully packing the artifacts into his spatial bag, Leonardo made his way to Michael''s room to deliver them.


    While Leonardo worked tirelessly, the others ventured into the surrounding mountains.


    Among those gathered in the hall the previous evening, only Carl, Hope, and Dominic stayed behind. Dominic feigned injury from the earlier assassin attack as an excuse to remain at the manor, hoping to leverage his supposed condition for compensation later in the capital. Hope, as the group''s healer, stayed by his side, while Carl guarded the estate against potential threats.


    The rest of the group explored the Drago Mountains, relying on Marcus''s exceptional sense of smell to track their target. Mounted on a griffon, they scouted the rugged terrain with the help of their beasts.


    [Humans, I think it''s this way,] Marcus announced, sniffing the air.


    [You idiot chick! "I think" doesn''t cut it! What kind of answer is that? And how long are you going to keep calling Michael "human"?] Miaomiao snapped, batting Marcus with her paw.


    [Don''t hit me, Miaomiao! I''m sure it''s here. I''ll try to fix my wording¡­ eventually.]


    As Miaomiao and Marcus bickered, the group dismounted and advanced on foot into a damp and shadowy area. The ground beneath them was covered with old graves, likely left by comrades who had buried their fallen in the treacherous mountains. Decaying tombstones and toppled trees added to the eerie atmosphere.


    The sodden earth clung to their boots, making every step a chore. The place was unsettling in every sense.


    Baron Kensington, who had led them in the wrong direction earlier, scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. The others shot him annoyed glances but pressed on.


    "Haha, I was sure it was over there... I must have remembered wrong. Well, no matter, we''ve found it now," Baron Kensington said with a sheepish laugh, scratching the back of his neck.


    The group collectively shook their heads but continued deeper into the forest. The towering trees above blotted out the sunlight, leaving the ground covered in moss and layers of fallen leaves.


    In the shadow of an ancient graveyard, beneath the twisted roots of a massive tree, they finally located their target.


    Baron Kensington and Sir Lancaster, upon seeing the sheer number of specimens, couldn''t hide their delight.


    "This is fantastic," Lancaster exclaimed. "Let''s head back now. With this haul, not only can we proceed with the plan, but we can all share a tidy profit."


    Relief washed over Michael''s face. The essential condition for his plan''s success had been met.


    Having secured the location, Michael took careful notes of the surrounding terrain, sketching a rough map. Thanks to the aerial perspective provided by their beasts, he was able to create a detailed map of the Drago Mountains¡ªa treasure that would make other nobles and knights green with envy.


    Though the great houses might have some historical records, even they wouldn''t possess an aerial map of such accuracy. Without the aid of Miaomiao and Marcus, navigating the beast-filled mountains and creating even a rough draft would have been impossible.


    With their work done, the group promptly left the site. Now that they had completed their reconnaissance, it was time to return to the estate and proceed with the next phase of their plan, utilizing the artifacts Leonardo had prepared.


    The next day, Michael, Dominic, Leonardo, and Hope returned to the location.


    The operation proceeded more smoothly than expected, thanks to their team of five knights, an adept support beast, and a skilled healer. Leonardo''s artifacts proved invaluable.


    Baron Kensington was particularly enamored with his artifact, his hands trembling as if reluctant to return it. Explore stories on My Virtual Library Empire


    With all the preparations complete, Michael equipped himself and waited for the Moon Shadow''s top assassin to arrive. His heart was a mixture of anticipation and tension.


    According to Carl, those who could use Shadow Concealment would immediately sense if another user occupied the same shadows. However, the incoming assassin wouldn''t know that Michael had mastered this ability, giving him a significant advantage.


    Michael went over his plan again in his mind, finding renewed confidence in its simplicity and effectiveness. He knew that even with Carl, Miaomiao, and Marcus providing protection, there were limits to how much could be defended. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 68 Capturing The Top Assassin From The Moon Shadows

    No matter how many protectors surrounded him, a single skilled assassin could slip through. And as for magical defenses? Magic in this world was far from omnipotent. Protective and barrier spells had inherent weaknesses. Ultimately, a person had to rely on their own ingenuity."Grandfather, I''m heading out to hunt. Don''t worry, I''m taking Miaomiao with me," Michael called out cheerfully before departing the estate.


    The operation to use himself as bait was now in its third day. The group had been at the Lancaster estate for nearly a week, and although the mornings remained peaceful, Michael felt a dark shadow looming over his thoughts.


    He was determined to bring the operation to a swift conclusion. So far, Dominic''s fabricated injury had kept rumors at bay, but any further delays would invite unwelcome attention.


    It would be best to end things today. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Familiar with the path by now, Michael and Miaomiao moved quietly through the underbrush toward the hunting grounds.


    Spotting a grouse perched in the distance, Michael raised his bow, only to sense something unusual. The shadows around him began to ripple faintly.


    As expected. This assassin is highly skilled¡ªwaiting for the perfect moment to strike while I''m distracted.


    Remaining calm, Michael silently waited for Miaomiao''s signal. With his sound-canceling artifact in place, he relied entirely on his companion to pinpoint the precise moment. Stay connected via My Virtual Library Empire


    Finally, Miaomiao gave the signal, tugging sharply on a strand of Michael''s hair.


    "Now, Michael!"


    At the predetermined cue, Michael swiftly pulled out a box from his pack.


    This was Leonardo''s masterpiece, now unveiled to the world. As he activated the intricate magical mechanism on the box, it began to extract the roots of the plant contained within.


    A deafening screech filled the air.


    The mandrake they had painstakingly unearthed in the Drago Mountains let out an ear-splitting wail.


    Simultaneously, the shadows around them convulsed violently, and a figure emerged¡ªa silver-haired man with dark skin.


    The assassin tumbled to the ground, writhing in agony. Blood poured from every orifice on his face, and the look in his eyes was a mixture of confusion and pain. His dagger slipped from his grasp as he rolled helplessly across the dirt.


    After several moments of thrashing, he lay still, reduced to shallow, ragged breaths.


    "Grab him, Miaomiao!"


    Miaomiao, her body now several times larger, pinned the man under her massive paw. The tension that had gripped Michael for days finally melted away.


    He removed the sound-dampening artifact from his ears, allowing the cacophony of the world to rush back in. The rustling of leaves in the wind, birdsong, and the babble of a nearby stream crashed over him like a wave. The sudden onslaught of noise made him stumble backward briefly, but he regained his balance.


    Once his heightened senses adjusted, Michael scanned his surroundings. No further threats emerged. Everything had gone according to plan.


    As expected of a Moon Shadow, the top assassin had come alone¡ªa fact Michael had anticipated when formulating his strategy.


    Michael approached the subdued man, now crushed beneath Miaomiao''s paw. The assassin, still gasping for air, wore an expression of resignation, the pain still etched across his features.


    Crouching down, Michael grabbed the man''s bloodied chin and lifted it, meeting his gaze.


    "Gotcha, you fiend," Michael said, a triumphant smile spreading across his face.


    Isper''s memories of his childhood were faint, like wisps of smoke. He vaguely remembered his tribe living in one of the most barren deserts of the Pamir Plateau¡ªa land infamous for its harshness.


    One particular memory stood out: a young woman''s voice, warning him not to wander outside during sandstorms lest the sand spirits take him. Perhaps she had been his mother. The warmth and comfort in that voice remained vivid even now.


    His recollections ended with a blurred image of being snatched away on horseback and carried across the desert. He assumed he had been abducted by a visitor to his tribe and sold into slavery. After all, it wasn''t uncommon for wanderers rescued by nomads to repay their saviors with betrayal.


    Sometimes, he wondered about his roots and if he could ever return to them, but the thought was futile.


    Training to become an assassin had been grueling. The Moon Shadows'' hidden base was tucked away in a corner of the desert, its environment as unforgiving as its teachings.


    The other trainees, all around his age, began training at dawn to avoid the midday heat. Yet even at dawn, the sun''s wrath was merciless.


    The first lessons were in patience and ruthlessness. Meals were sparse¡ªdried fruit, grains, and a small ration of water tossed to them by the instructors. Isper had learned to cherish every drop of water, but eventually, like the others, he was forced to steal and fight for sustenance.


    His resilience caught the attention of his master, who chose him to learn Shadow Concealment.


    After surviving the brutal training and rising to become the Moon Shadows'' top assassin, Isper''s master had once told him:


    "Isper, you''re excellent, but you think too much. Assassins shouldn''t overthink things."


    That was the last piece of advice his master gave before disappearing. Left alone, Isper carried the weight of his thoughts¡ªand his blade.


    The splash of cold water on his face jolted him back to reality. What had happened?


    Oh, right. He''d been ambushed while trying to strike his target. The memory of that horrific shriek was still fresh, as was the excruciating pain that had followed.


    He probed his tongue against his molars, only to find that the poison capsule he had hidden there was gone. Suicide by poison was no longer an option. Biting his tongue wouldn''t kill him either; even if it bled profusely, it wouldn''t be enough to end his life.


    He resigned himself to the inevitable torture. But to his surprise, no such torment came.


    Instead, his gaze met that of a strikingly handsome man with long blond hair. Isper felt as if his soul had been pierced.


    "Ah, hypnosis," he thought, recognizing the technique immediately.


    "Stop!" he shouted, squeezing his eyes shut with all his willpower. "I''ll tell you whatever you want. Just stop the hypnosis. I want to preserve my honor as the top assassin of the Moon Shadows."

 Chapter 69 A Gut Feeling

    Carl, who had once known a former Moon Shadow, observed Isper with a neutral expression. "Do you swear upon the Dark Side of the Moon?"Isper flinched briefly but then lowered his head in resignation. "I, Isper, swear upon the Dark Side of the Moon."


    At Michael''s nod, Leonardo retracted his glowing red gaze.


    "Your name is Isper, then? State your personal details, your group, and the mission you were assigned," Michael commanded.


    Eyes still closed, Isper began to speak.


    "Yes, my name is Isper. I do not know my family name or my exact age. I was sold to the Moon Shadows as a child and suspect I am from a nomadic desert tribe. I currently serve as the top assassin of the Moon Shadows. Above me is only the Master, who handles finances and contracts. Functionally, he is the strongest member of the Moon Shadows.


    "My mission was to kill the heir of House Crassus and eliminate all evidence. The original contract came through another assassin guild, requesting the eradication of the entire Crassus family en route to the capital. Two guild members were sent initially but failed. That''s when I, the strongest of the Moon Shadows, was dispatched. If I fail and die, the mission will be considered a lost cause, and no further attempts will be made.


    "I''ve told you everything. Spare me the humiliation and kill me now."


    What Isper said largely aligned with what Michael already knew.


    Michael studied Isper with a pensive expression. There was one crucial question that needed answering.


    "During your assignments, have you ever killed innocent bystanders or committed crimes such as murder, robbery, or rape unrelated to your missions?"


    Isper looked up, perplexed. "Why ask such a thing? I am not a sadistic killer. I never wanted to become an assassin in the first place¡ªwhy would I commit such atrocities?"


    Satisfied, Michael nodded and handed Isper a cup containing an unknown liquid.


    "You have two choices: serve House Crassus for the rest of your life or die. The choice is yours."


    "Serve? What do you mean?"


    "Exactly what I said. Killing someone of your skill would be a waste. Instead, we''ll cleanse your identity and make you a shadow of House Crassus. You''ll serve as an asset to our family."


    Isper scoffed and accepted the cup. "Another shadow, huh? At least you''re giving me a choice. I decline. Perhaps in the next life, we''ll meet again."


    He drank the liquid in one gulp. As he stared into Michael''s eyes, he noticed something odd. Why did the young lord look at him with such pity? Was he mourning Isper''s life?


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    When Isper awoke, he understood. That look of pity hadn''t been for his death¡ªit had been for what came next.


    This wasn''t the next life he had imagined.


    Leonardo clapped him on the shoulder. "Alright, let me explain the rules you''ll follow as a familiar of House Crassus."


    Damn this wretched life...


    As Isper was dragged away by Leonardo, his expression blank and hopeless, Michael couldn''t help but feel some sympathy.


    If Isper had chosen to serve in life, his debt would have been paid within a century at most. But by choosing death, he had sentenced himself to eternal servitude.


    Still, there was no need for excessive pity. No matter the circumstances, Isper had killed dozens of innocents as part of his missions.


    Michael felt a grim sense of satisfaction. With Leonardo''s customization and training, Isper would become an invaluable close-range bodyguard for House Crassus.


    The remainder of the journey was uneventful.


    After two months of travel, the group finally arrived in the capital. Days of riding horses and sitting in carriages had taken their toll, even with Leonardo''s efforts to make the carriage as comfortable as possible.


    Stretching his stiff body, Michael looked around the inn they had reserved. The inn was situated in the southern part of the capital, not far from the royal palace and bustling markets. Its structure, a mix of stone and wood, exuded an air of history and tradition.


    A large sign reading "Royal Certification" hung over the entrance, signifying that this establishment catered primarily to the nobility. One of their guards had been sent ahead to book the entire inn for their party.


    Each of the key retainers was assigned a private room, while the soldiers shared rooms in groups of five.


    Michael inspected his quarters first. Though small, the room was clean and orderly. A neatly made bed with linen sheets, a small wooden table, and a wall-mounted candleholder filled the space. Opening the window, he let in a refreshing breeze, a testament to the innkeeper''s care for the premises. A basin and water jug were set up in one corner for washing.


    The innkeeper assured them that hot bathwater would be prepared soon for each room, while the soldiers eagerly ran outside to use the communal baths. Though basic and requiring water to be refilled after each use, it was a luxury compared to nothing.


    Thanks to his noble status, Michael had the privilege of having hot water delivered to his room. Sinking into a wooden tub filled with steaming water, he let out a sigh of relief, finally shedding the weariness of the long journey. After weeks of camping, a proper bath felt like a gift from the heavens. The warm water eased his tense muscles, granting him a rare moment of peace.


    After his bath, Michael descended to the inn''s dining hall on the first floor.


    The hall, furnished with wooden tables and benches, was simple but cozy, with a fireplace radiating warmth. The meal was modest yet satisfying: freshly baked bread with butter, cheese, ham, and even fresh fruit. The innkeeper went a step further, offering Michael and his party an egg dish and warm tea. For a standard inn meal, it was surprisingly delightful.


    As expected of an inn frequented by nobles and knights, provisions for their magical beasts had not been overlooked. Miaomiao shared Michael''s table, feasting on thick cuts of grilled beef.


    After the meal, Michael greeted his companions briefly before retiring to his room, where he fell into a deep, well-earned sleep. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 70 The Subtle Tremors Of An Impending War

    The following day, Marcus remained in his temporary nest, too tired to stir. Considering the upcoming royal banquet, where the dragon planned to make a grand debut, it was just as well for him to remain unseen for now.Only Miaomiao, who looked like nothing more than a small black kitten, perched on Michael''s shoulder as they ventured out. The party members who had never been to the capital joined him, eager to explore.


    Once outside, Michael separated from the group, moving independently. Following behind him like a silent shadow was Isper, now a loyal familiar of House Crassus. Unlike Leonardo, Isper retained his original appearance, as his work as an assassin required him to remain as inconspicuous as possible.


    While the others wandered off, laughing and shopping for trinkets, Michael headed for a specific destination.


    The inn was located near a vibrant market district, with shops lining the streets and bustling crowds. The streets radiated out from a wide main road, with narrow alleys branching off like veins. Being so close to the palace, the area was clean and orderly.


    The market stalls were packed tightly together, displaying an array of goods to tempt passersby. Merchants set up colorful canopies over their stalls, their voices ringing out to attract customers.


    "Fresh bread! Hot out of the oven!"


    "Soft, warm wool at the best price!"


    "Top-quality iron tools right here!"


    Elsewhere, stalls overflowed with fresh fruits and vegetables: rosy apples, plump pears, and crisp greens neatly arranged to showcase their freshness. The fruit vendor cheerfully handed out samples to potential buyers.


    The thriving commerce caught Michael''s attention. As someone about to develop new lands, he noted the bustling activity with interest.


    His destination, however, was an herb shop where he planned to sell the mandrakes they had collected. Most of his party members had agreed to convert the mandrakes into cash, except for Hope and Leonardo, who wanted to use a portion for experimentation. Michael had taken charge of the transaction.


    Having inquired about the most reputable and fair herb shop in the area from the innkeeper beforehand, he quickly found his way there.


    Outside the shop, exotic spices in small pouches and bottles emitted a strong aroma, undoubtedly meant to entice customers. Inside, herbalists sorted various plants and concocted medicines, explaining the unique benefits of their products to curious patrons.


    Michael entered, and the shopkeeper immediately hurried out to greet him upon hearing he had mandrakes to sell.


    "Oh, welcome, welcome! Such a rare treasure! You have no idea how difficult it''s been to acquire longevity herbs like mandrakes these days. It''s not just mandrakes, either¡ªeverything from the Drago Mountains is scarce right now. If you have more to sell, I''ll gladly take it off your hands," the shopkeeper said eagerly.


    Michael''s instincts tingled at the comment. Mandrakes were always valuable, but the shortage of all goods from the Drago Mountains was concerning.


    Feigning casual interest, Michael replied, "Is that so? I could sell more if needed. What items are particularly in short supply?"


    The shopkeeper, wary yet intrigued, darted a glance at Michael. He seemed unsure whether Michael''s claim was true but answered nonetheless.


    "Beast hides and byproducts are valuable, but items requiring freshness¡ªherbs, magical beast meat, and blood¡ªare especially scarce. Even the mage towers are scrambling for supplies."


    Michael watched the shopkeeper closely as he continued, "The mage towers are in desperate need of these items, are they?"


    The shopkeeper lowered his voice, glancing around before speaking. "Well, you know how mages are. Always conducting strange experiments. High-grade magical beast blood and materials? They''ll pay a fortune for those¡ªespecially if they''re fresh. Living specimens? Even better. By any chance¡­"


    "I don''t have anything on hand right now," Michael interrupted smoothly. "But I could look into acquiring some. Now, about the mandrakes¡ªwhat price are you offering?"


    The shopkeeper named a generous price, which Michael accepted. As he finalized the sale, he discreetly surveyed the shop. While most shelves were stocked with herbs, he noticed several conspicuously empty spaces.


    After leaving the shop, Michael strolled through the market, lost in thought. The streets were lively, but as he looked more closely, he noticed several closed shops scattered among the open ones.


    Something feels off, he thought.


    This wasn''t just a supply shortage. To Michael, it felt like the subtle tremors of an impending war.


    Upon returning to the inn, Michael requested a private meeting with his father, Dominic, and Baron Kensington. The three gathered in Dominic''s room, the largest in the inn, making it well-suited for discussions.


    After hearing Michael''s observations, Dominic let out a deep sigh, the lines on his forehead furrowing with concern.


    "You may be right. It''s hardly a secret that the herbalists in the Drago Mountains are actually soldiers assigned to the Pamir Plateau. But for the supply of herbs and magical beast byproducts to dwindle so drastically¡­ the situation doesn''t look good."


    Baron Kensington nodded gravely, his expression equally serious. His eyes reflected the cautious vigilance borne of years of experience.


    "Indeed," the baron agreed. "If it''s not the threat of war, then it must mean high-grade magical beasts are causing havoc." S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael quickly dismissed the idea.


    "If it were a magical beast, Miaomiao and Marcus would have sensed something when we entered the mountains. No, this is either preparation for war or efforts to shore up defenses against an invasion."


    As Kensington nodded thoughtfully, Dominic added his own perspective. Though the baron and Michael were now close enough to address each other as brothers, Dominic''s voice carried the weight of his authority.


    "Our kingdom certainly wouldn''t be the one instigating a war. Frankly, we lack the strength, and we''re not foolish enough to provoke a fight. It seems likely that the Pamir Empire is up to something."


    Baron Kensington chimed in, his voice laced with concern.


    "With the emperor growing older, he may wish to secure a final achievement. And considering the rumors of the crown prince''s debauchery, there are likely other sons eager to build military reputations for themselves."

 Chapter 71 Lobbying For The Estate

    Dominic sighed deeply. "It won''t be easy. Michael, when do you think the war might break out?"Michael, who had been listening intently, shared his thoughts.


    "Most likely after the spring planting season, as we approach summer. If the Pamir Empire makes a move, their target will almost certainly be the kingdom''s grain supplies."


    Baron Kensington nodded in agreement.


    "Exactly. As always, they''ll claim the northern territories and the Drago Mountains as their rightful land, but their true goal will be the grain depots. Parasites, the lot of them."


    Dominic nodded solemnly. "Then we don''t need to panic just yet. However, we must conclude the negotiations and investiture ceremony as quickly as possible and return to secure the estate. If we face a war with our lands in disarray, we''ll be in serious trouble."


    Michael added, "I''ll do my best to use our connections to rally support. As for the presentation of Miaomiao and Marcus, we should follow our original plan. We''ll first showcase the Rainbow Plus foals to build intrigue before introducing them. That will maximize their impact¡ªand help Brother Vincent sell more horses."


    "Haha, that sounds like a plan," Kensington said with a grin. "Once the audience is captivated, we''ll draw them in. That should make the nobles more willing to cooperate. And I''ll make some sales while I''m at it!"


    "Good," Michael replied. "Father, we can use their unveiling to win over potential allies for the estate''s defense. Please spare no expense in making the banquet as grand as possible¡ªeven if it means dipping into the war reserve funds."


    Dominic nodded in agreement. "That makes sense. I''ve already submitted the request for an audience with the king, and we should receive word by the end of the day. We can host the banquet immediately after the audience."


    They planned to leverage the presence of Miaomiao and Marcus to attract influential figures in the capital. Baron Kensington used his extensive network to send invitations, emphasizing the unveiling of rare and extraordinary beasts at the upcoming court banquet.


    As a respected expert in magical beast breeding and a prominent member of the beast enthusiasts'' society, Kensington knew he could stir interest.


    Dominic, meanwhile, reached out to every contact he had, including some who had distanced themselves after Lincoln''s death. Even his estranged in-laws were willing to lend support, given their connection to Michael''s younger sister, Elizabeth. The twins'' maternal family also sent financial assistance, agreeing to import food supplies until the new frontier estate could achieve stable crop production.


    The contracts were finalized smoothly, as both parties stood to benefit.


    The Crassus family''s new estate had attracted a host of hopeful candidates eager to fill the soon-to-be-vacant barony. Nobles from the northeastern frontier and other regions of the capital eyed the opportunity, driven by the promise of fertile lands.


    Since the introduction of primogeniture, many second sons had no choice but to seek military or clerical careers. But the declining influence of the Radiant Church made the army the preferred option. The limited availability of land and the reluctance of parents to send their children to the war-torn borders meant competition was fierce, with most candidates falling into the same middling category.


    While the eldest inherited everything, parents still cared for their younger children. With the king issuing only a vague edict about the Crassus estate''s relocation, it was clear that the family could exercise some discretion in the matter. As a result, Dominic found himself inundated with petitions.


    Michael, curious about the king''s temperament, asked his father what kind of ruler Charles V was.


    Dominic took a moment to think before answering carefully.


    "King Charles V is¡­ a multifaceted man. He treasures the queen and is kind to his children, but he has a reputation for being ruthless. When he first ascended the throne at a young age, he allowed territorial disputes among the nobles to play out, earning a reputation as a puppet. However, those who expanded their influence during that time were ultimately undone by their own greed. The king acted during their moment of weakness, consolidating power. Today, the crown is stronger than ever. Does that answer your question?" S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael nodded. A king of such cunning and strength might see the relocation of the Crassus estate as an opportunity to further weaken the nobility. It seemed unlikely that the northeastern aristocracy would be granted the land outright; it might even be divided.


    The northwestern lords were especially active in lobbying for the estate, resentful that the northeastern territories enjoyed more fertile lands despite sharing the burden of defending the northern borders.


    Their frustration was understandable. While the Drago Mountains posed a potential threat with magical beasts, the nomadic tribes of the Pamir Plateau presented a more immediate danger, disrupting production with frequent skirmishes.


    Dominic''s quarters were bustling with visitors, each vying for his favor.


    The most vocal group in the capital was undoubtedly the nobles of the Northwestern Province, who were fiercely competing for control of the Crassus Barony. Their wealth was displayed openly, enough to provide extravagant tributes to secure an audience with the king.


    Dominic, aware that such tributes were tacitly approved by the crown, saw no reason to refuse these unexpected gains. Amid the influx of gifts, the royal messenger finally delivered the king''s summons.


    The messenger handed Dominic an official document, announcing the royal decree.


    "His Majesty has granted you an audience. You are to arrive at the palace gates before dawn tomorrow. The investiture ceremony will take place during the audience, so both Baron Crassus and his heir must attend in full ceremonial attire. Due to the palace''s current state of activity, accompanying retinues will be limited to five individuals each."


    Michael and Dominic promptly began their preparations. They donned formal surcoats embroidered with the Crassus family crest in golden thread, layered with cloaks lined with black sable fur. Shoulder epaulets, ceremonial hats, and polished boots completed their attire.


    After the final adjustments by tailors hired in the capital, they radiated the dignity and authority befitting their station.

 Chapter 72 Impending War With The Pamir Empire

    The next morning, Michael and Dominic, accompanied by their chosen attendants, made their way to the palace.At the gates, royal guards greeted them and verified their audience permits before escorting them inside.


    The palace''s grandeur was awe-inspiring, with its expansive halls and high ceilings. Striking a balance between elegance and restraint, it was neither overly ostentatious nor underwhelming.


    The group was led to a waiting room, where Michael and Dominic steadied their nerves. They weren''t the only ones summoned¡ªseveral other nobles waited nearby, all observing decorum as they anticipated their turns.


    Finally, their names were called.


    Led by a royal steward, they stood before the enormous bronze doors of the audience chamber. As the doors opened, a brilliant chandelier hanging from the high ceiling greeted them with its dazzling light. Behind the throne hung an ornate tapestry, showcasing the kingdom''s heraldry.


    Michael and Dominic approached the king, stopping at the designated spot where they knelt, bowing their heads respectfully.


    "It is an honor to meet Your Majesty," Dominic began. "We humbly present a modest gift gathered from the Drago Mountains."


    A servant carried the carefully wrapped mandrakes forward. The king, holding up a hand, waved off further formalities.


    "A rare treasure indeed," he remarked. "Please rise. Such excessive courtesy is unnecessary. I''ve heard of the Crassus family''s remarkable achievements. I also heard that you were ambushed by assassins on your journey. How fares your health?"


    Dominic replied humbly, "I am grateful for Your Majesty''s concern. My father sustained significant injuries and required a week of recovery at a vassal''s estate. However, the assassins were all eliminated. Their confessions revealed that this was a personal matter instigated by Orion, a priest''s mistress in Radiant Sanctum, grieving over the loss of her son."


    "Hm," the king mused. "If that''s the case, there''s no formal grounds for a diplomatic protest. Nonetheless, you''ve suffered in service to the kingdom, and I will ensure my gratitude is conveyed appropriately. After all, your efforts have spared us from paying tithes. Now, tell me¡ªdo you harbor any grievances over the relocation of your lands?"


    Dominic hesitated briefly, knowing that voicing complaints would achieve nothing.


    "Not at all, Your Majesty," he replied carefully. "It is an honor to elevate our station with a larger territory. However, the challenges of frontier development are undeniable, and any support you could provide would be deeply appreciated."


    The king chuckled. "Good to hear. Support, you say? With the treasury strained from successive droughts, substantial aid is unfeasible. However, I shall grant you a privilege. Bring it here!"


    At the king''s command, a royal steward approached carrying an ornate box. Inside was a rolled parchment, which was promptly unfurled before Michael and Dominic.


    The two men gasped as they studied its contents¡ªa highly detailed map of the Drago Mountains and the surrounding northeastern and northwestern provinces. Marked upon it were significant resources, including some rare deposits.


    "Surprised? Don''t be," the king said. "As you''ve no doubt sensed, the Pamir Empire''s movements are growing bolder. This map, acquired through¡­ fortunate circumstances, is vital for the kingdom''s defense. I''m not a tyrant, after all. You may choose your preferred land from these locations. Furthermore, I grant you a ten-year exemption from taxes. Should war break out and you distinguish yourself, you will also have rights to war spoils and the recruitment of serfs."


    Michael and Dominic exchanged glances, silently acknowledging that the offer was more than fair. While the risks of defending the frontier were significant, the rewards made it worthwhile.


    "Your Majesty," Dominic ventured cautiously, "this humble servant requires a moment to deliberate. May we have some time to consider?"


    "Of course," the king replied generously. "Take your time. My steward will guide you to a side chamber."


    They were led to a well-lit room furnished with a large table. Once inside, father and son spread the map out and began their discussion.


    Several key locations immediately stood out, marked for their fertile soil, mineral wealth, or potential as transportation hubs. While the most desirable territories had already been claimed, the remaining options were still impressive.


    Being granted the ability to choose their land was an extraordinary privilege. However, Michael understood that it was also a double-edged sword.


    The northwestern provinces had endured successive invasions with relative resilience, largely due to the indirect support of other regions. No one wanted to face the aggressive Pamir Empire alone, so the surrounding provinces and even neighboring kingdoms occasionally extended aid to prevent the empire''s expansion.


    Michael scanned the map, deliberately excluding the most fertile lands. What I desire, others will covet as well, he thought. His finger eventually landed on a basin located where the northeastern and northwestern provinces met, nestled deep within the mountain range. S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The basin, surrounded by mountains, was a natural fortress. While its soil wasn''t exceptionally fertile, it promised sufficient agricultural yields for self-sufficiency. Additionally, the area contained an iron mine.


    Dominic''s expression tightened as he saw Michael''s choice.


    "Michael," he cautioned, "think carefully. That mine may be rich in ore, but extracting it is an entirely different challenge. The North lacks quality coal for smelting, and what little exists is of poor quality. Transporting charcoal from other regions would cost a fortune, leaving little profit. The iron from this mine might barely be enough for farming tools. Why not choose one of the more fertile regions instead?"


    Michael smiled, offering a subtle reminder.


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    "Father, don''t forget¡ªwe have Marcus. Dragons are exceptional at detecting resources and excel at development. Think about how they locate their lairs."


    Dominic''s face lit up in realization. Aha! How did I not consider that?


    While the Drago Mountains promised untapped resources, their development had always been too challenging. But with Marcus, the prospect seemed far more attainable. Dominic''s expression brightened, his earlier concerns easing.


    After deliberating on their choice of land, Dominic and Michael once again requested an audience with King Charles V. The king, wearing a benevolent expression, welcomed them back.


    "So, have you reached a decision?" he asked, glancing at the map presented before him. A spark of intrigue lit up his eyes. "Hmm, an interesting choice. Are you confident you won''t regret it?"

 Chapter 73 Truly Magnificent

    Michael stepped forward, his face serious and resolute. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality."Yes, Your Majesty. Though my understanding of such matters is limited, I firmly believe this territory is the most suitable for our family."


    The king''s smile widened in satisfaction. Raising his voice, he issued his decree with enthusiasm.


    "Very well, then! Hear this, all present: I hereby elevate Baron Crassus to the rank of Viscount and proclaim the territory of Iron Valley as the Crassus Viscounty. Furthermore, the viscounty is granted a ten-year exemption from taxes, along with rights to spoils of war and the acquisition of serfs during times of conflict. To aid in the development of the land, I bestow upon them 50,000 gold coins. Lastly, I formally recognize Michael von Crassus as the lawful heir to the Viscountcy. This proclamation, under my command, Charles V, takes effect immediately."


    Now officially Viscount Crassus, Dominic, along with his newly recognized heir, Michael, knelt and pledged their loyalty.


    "We vow eternal allegiance to Your Majesty and the kingdom."


    The king, raising his hand in acknowledgment, declared, "Rise. I trust in your unwavering loyalty."


    After a brief moment, Dominic, carefully watching the king''s demeanor, made a polite request.


    "Your Majesty, to share this joy and express our gratitude for your boundless generosity, we wish to host a banquet. May we humbly request permission to use the Emerald Hall of the palace for this purpose?"


    The king appeared to deliberate briefly before granting his approval.


    "The halls of the palace are not easily lent. However, I recognize your loyalty and shall make an exception. I will attend the banquet myself."


    Though the request and approval were largely procedural, as the hall had already been reserved and paid for, Dominic bowed deeply, his face alight with gratitude.


    "Your Majesty''s grace knows no bounds. We shall ensure it is a banquet worthy of your presence."


    "Very well. You may go now," the king said with a dismissive wave.


    With the territory secured, a generous development fund granted, and the king''s commitment to attend the banquet, the Crassus family had achieved all they had hoped for. Father and son respectfully took their leave.


    The royal steward led them to the Emerald Hall, where preparations for the banquet were already underway.


    The Banquet Preparations


    A banquet was an essential element of noble life, serving as a platform to celebrate, network, and display power and resources. It was an opportunity to showcase everything from fine goods to rare magical beasts. Observing a family''s banquet could often reveal much about their status and aspirations.


    Dominic spared no expense in preparing for the event. With the resources granted for the development of their new territory, he sought to solidify the family''s reputation and secure alliances.


    Leonardo, ever the inventive artisan, had spent the journey crafting hundreds of magical lamps. These were not only to illuminate the banquet but also to serve as items for sale. The lamps, fitted with magical candles, could withstand wind, relight themselves if extinguished, and came in beautifully decorated glass housings that emitted colorful light.


    In addition to the lamps, Leonardo had created special enchanted serving trays. These trays kept food warm, and with a spoken command, prearranged dishes could appear atop them. While the trays didn''t actually cook food, they allowed the efficient transport of meals over short distances. Though their range was limited to about seven meters, the novelty alone was enough to captivate the capital''s luxury-obsessed nobility.


    The banquet''s highlight, however, was the planned appearance of the Sphinx Miaomiao and the dragon Marcus.


    Kensington had arrived early, grooming the Rainbow Plus foals he planned to showcase before the magical beasts made their grand entrance. Targeting the noblewomen in attendance, he aimed to secure a few sales by the end of the evening.


    Meanwhile, Miaomiao and Marcus were undergoing final preparations.


    Miaomiao had transformed into a strikingly majestic form, resembling a winged jaguar about three meters in length. Her black fur shimmered with an iridescent blue hue, while her wings, tipped with a mix of blue and gold, were adorned with sparkling gemstones. A thick platinum pendant around her neck added an air of elegance and authority.


    Marcus, now fully healed from his injuries, had grown to a similar size. Though his red scales bore faint scars, they only added to his fearsome appearance. Gold chains draped between his scales enhanced his dazzling presence, a testament to Marcus''s flamboyant taste. Around his neck hung a large gold pendant, and jeweled caps adorned his claws.


    The banquet hall itself was resplendent. Leonardo''s magical lamps, hung alongside the grand chandeliers, bathed the space in radiant light. The central table, reserved for the king, queen, and other distinguished guests, was set with exquisite detail. Below it, circular tables awaited the other attendees.


    The red carpet, a concept devised by Michael, stretched across the center of the hall, ready to welcome the magical beasts. Decorated with tapestries, banners, and the Crassus family crest, the hall exuded grandeur.


    The banquet''s centerpiece was, of course, the food. Dominic had hired the capital''s most renowned chefs, who prepared a lavish array of dishes. Fresh ingredients ensured that every plate¡ªfrom meats roasted with fragrant herbs to freshly baked breads and cheeses¡ªwas of the highest quality.


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    Wine and spirits, sourced from all corners of the kingdom, included honey mead, beers, and a special sangria infused with fresh fruits, a rare treat Michael suggested to intrigue the noblewomen.


    Musicians and jesters completed the ambiance, their melodies blending harp, viola, and violin harmonies as they readied for their performance.


    The first guests began arriving, their attire as dazzling as the banquet hall itself. Dominic introduced Michael to each noble, ensuring his son had the opportunity to network and build alliances.


    Finally, the grand arrival of the king and queen marked the start of the evening''s most anticipated events.


    The king entered the hall adorned in a regal cape, while the queen graced the gathering in a velvet gown, her hair veiled in a golden net encrusted with pearls. Following closely were the crown prince and the kingdom''s only princess.

 Chapter 74 Banquet

    The crown prince, bearing a striking resemblance to the king, was a sharp featured young man with a prominent aquiline nose and a mischievous glint in his eyes. The princess, on the other hand, was a vision of beauty, often hailed as the kingdom''s greatest jewel.As the royal family made their entrance, a fanfare of trumpets resounded through the hall, prompting all guests to rise and pay their respects to the royalties.


    Dominic and Michael approached the royal family, bowing deeply before the king and queen, then exchanging polite introductions with the prince and princess.


    Once the greetings concluded and everyone had taken their seats, the highlight of the evening finally began.


    Kensington Baron, with a flourish, presented his impeccably groomed Rainbow Plus foals. A chorus of gasps and exclamations erupted from the gathered ladies, enchanted by the creatures'' beauty.


    Following Michael''s advice, Kensington first gifted one of the foals to the princess. The princess, charmed by the creature, named it "Lola" and affectionately stroked its forehead. The simple act won over every noblewoman in attendance, shifting their focus entirely onto the foals.


    Feeling triumphant, Kensington privately reveled in his newfound success. Finally, the perfect market had been found.


    The event''s crescendo followed shortly after, with the grand entrance of the sphinx, Miaomiao, and the dragon, Marcus, set to a specially commissioned march. For this formal occasion, Miaomiao''s full name was used.


    An entertainer, hired at great expense, announced their arrival with flair.


    "Behold! The pride of this evening''s host, Sir Michael von Crassus! His companions are none other than Neferetari Hatshepsut, the Sphinx of legends, and Marcus Plenysos, a descendant of the mighty dragon lineage!"


    The hall buzzed with excitement as murmurs rose among the crowd. Some guests even stood, unable to contain their amazement.


    With poise and dignity, Miaomiao and Marcus walked down the red carpet, taking their places beside Michael. Their regal demeanor left an indelible impression on all present.


    The crown prince, unable to resist his curiosity, approached with wide-eyed wonder.


    "Sir Michael! Are these magical beasts truly bound to you? How in the world did you manage it?"


    Miaomiao answered coolly before Michael could respond, her voice resonating with authority, devoid of her usual playful tone.


    [Your Highness, we divine beings do not serve anyone. I chose to befriend Michael and stand by his side. Marcus, on the other hand, has his own unique arrangement.]


    Caught off guard, Marcus hastily chimed in, nudged by Miaomiao''s sharp glance.


    [I have entered a contract with Michael, not subjugation, human.]


    Had anyone else addressed the crown prince so bluntly, it might have caused a scandal. However, Marcus''s status as a dragon granted him leeway.


    The prince, far from offended, laughed heartily and extended his hand to both beasts.


    "Then we can become friends, too! It''s a pleasure to meet you both. I am Crown Prince Randolph."


    The prince''s easygoing demeanor encouraged others to approach as well. Soon, Miaomiao and Marcus found themselves surrounded by eager nobles, all vying for their attention.


    Overwhelmed by the onslaught of questions, Miaomiao let out a sharp hiss, scattering the crowd. Still, many lingered nearby, unable to suppress their curiosity.


    The spotlight inevitably shifted to Michael, with nobles flocking to him for stories and insights.


    "Sir Michael! What an incredible feat¡ªhow did you come across a sphinx? I''ve only ever heard of them in legends. My heart''s still racing!"


    "Count Barkus, hold your horses! I was speaking with Sir Michael first. Sir Michael, I''d love to hear about your dragon¡ª"


    The lively debate over who would get Michael''s attention first was a clear sign of the evening''s success.


    The banquet exceeded expectations. The food was exquisite, the enchanted serving trays Leonardo crafted became an instant sensation, and the magical lamps earned widespread acclaim.


    Every time a guest uttered the activation phrase, food seamlessly appeared on the trays, eliciting gasps of amazement. The lamps'' soft, colorful glow added to the enchanting atmosphere.


    Lawrence, the Crassus family treasurer, diligently took orders for the new items, cheerfully directing interested buyers to the inn for contract discussions.


    Guests continued stealing glances at Marcus and Miaomiao while enjoying performances by jesters and magicians.


    As the night progressed, Michael seized an opportunity to showcase the abilities of his two companions.


    Miaomiao launched herself into the air, performing an elegant flip before instantly transforming into her kitten form and perching on Michael''s shoulder. The ladies in the audience erupted into delighted screams. Even the princess blushed with excitement. Find more to read at My Virtual Library Empire


    Marcus, embodying his draconic heritage, delivered a breathtaking fire display. A stream of intense flames shot skyward, morphing into a fiery phoenix that soared through an open window and disappeared into the night.


    The crowd gawked in awe, unaware that Leonardo had orchestrated the latter part of the display.


    Miaomiao, now settled on Michael''s shoulder, nonchalantly licked her paw, her tail puffed up in irritation.


    "Not enjoying yourself, Miaomiao?" Michael asked, stroking her head apologetically.


    [I''m fine. A poor household can''t help but resort to these measures.] S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael chuckled awkwardly at her jab, continuing to gently soothe her.


    As he did, the princess, her cheeks still flushed, cautiously approached.


    "Sir Michael... if it''s not too forward of me, may I pet your sphinx?"


    Michael glanced at Miaomiao, gauging her mood. To his relief, she showed no signs of irritation, even appearing slightly intrigued by the princess.


    [You''re beautiful, so I''ll allow it. But only if you offer me a strand of your golden hair.]


    Smiling, the princess signaled to a maid, who promptly returned with a small jewelry box containing previously trimmed strands of her hair. Handing it over, she gently cradled Miaomiao, stroking her soft fur.


    "Oh, so soft... truly magnificent. Neferetari, may I call you that?"


    Miaomiao, curling herself into the princess''s arms, purred contentedly.


    [Very well, you''re a princess and quite lovely. I''ll allow it.]


    Michael, observing this exchange, was left speechless. So dignified until now! The bias toward appearances is simply outrageous.


    ...


    AN: There will be a mass mass release next week.

 Chapter 75 Astrid

    Now elevated to the rank of Viscount, Dominic maneuvered effortlessly through the capital''s elite circles, forging valuable connections with influential nobles.Amidst his efforts, he spotted his son, Michael, engaged in animated conversation with Princess Astrid. Whatever Michael said must have been amusing, for the princess''s radiant laughter lit up the space around her.


    A satisfied smile spread across Dominic''s face as he observed the scene. Perhaps, just perhaps, Astrid might one day become Michael''s lady. Even if romance or marriage between the two wasn''t a realistic possibility, having the princess as a close ally could yield immense political and social advantages. The support and goodwill of the kingdom''s sole princess would be a treasure beyond measure.


    Unaware of his father''s thoughts, Michael was sincerely enjoying his conversation with the princess, entirely free of ulterior motives.


    "I never imagined a sphinx could be so captivating," Astrid remarked, her voice tinged with wonder. "I always thought of them as creatures of legend¡ªreal but entirely out of reach for someone ordinary like me."


    Smiling warmly, Michael replied, "Ordinary? Your Highness, you''re anything but. Just look at Neferetari¡ªshe''s comfortably curled up in your arms, enchanted by your beauty."


    At that moment, Miaomiao, ever opportunistic, nestled closer into the princess''s embrace, rubbing her head affectionately against her arm. Helping Michael score points is a small price to pay for being pampered by royalty, Miaomiao seemed to think.


    Unused to such interactions with young men, Astrid''s cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink. As the precious only daughter of the king and queen, she had grown up protected and sheltered, leaving her unprepared for Michael''s easy charm. She lowered her head slightly, focusing on stroking Miaomiao to hide her flustered expression.


    "Such high praise," she murmured. "But truly, it''s my mother who''s the renowned beauty."


    The queen, once the daughter of a count, had captivated the king with her intelligence and unmatched elegance, becoming a formidable presence in the royal court. Yet Astrid, unlike her assertive and commanding mother, seemed gentle and reserved. Of course, one could never tell what storms might lie hidden beneath her calm exterior.


    Michael continued, his gaze steady on the princess. "Your Highness, I find you far more captivating. You should have more confidence in yourself."


    Miaomiao gave Michael an approving look as if to say, Finally, you''re learning how to play the game.


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    Astrid, clearly unused to such compliments, fanned herself with a dainty folding fan, her cheeks flushing an even deeper red.


    "You may call me Astrid, Sir Michael. That is, if addressing you as ''Sir Michael'' isn''t too forward?"


    Her words startled Michael, but a hint of joy crept into his expression. Excellent! We''re becoming more familiar, he thought.


    "It''s an honor, Princess Astrid," he replied, his tone sincere and respectful.


    Astrid felt a warmth spreading through her chest. Life within the rigid confines of the royal court had often left her feeling stifled, unable to express her true self. But conversing with Michael was like stepping into fresh, open air.


    Her eyes sparkled, reflecting the dreams and aspirations she had long kept hidden. "Then I shall call you Sir Michael without hesitation. It''s been a delight talking with you."


    Michael, recalling advice from a once prolific friend skilled in navigating social dynamics, maintained eye contact and responded gently. His previous life hadn''t exactly afforded him many close female friendships, but he assumed the same principles applied in this world. Judging by Astrid''s animated expressions, it seemed he was making progress.


    "The pleasure is mine, Astrid," he said. "Having this opportunity to speak with you is a privilege I deeply cherish."


    To any observer, the princess appeared like a young girl experiencing her first brush with love¡ªthough Michael, utterly oblivious to the effect he was having, remained unaware.


    His lack of perception stemmed from a lifetime of underestimating his own appearance. In his former life, he had been an average reserved man in his thirties. Before that, Michael had been a withdrawn 17 year old with little confidence.


    However, to Astrid, Michael was the epitome of a hero tall at over 190 cm, angelically handsome, with striking crimson eyes, and a demeanor that radiated both grace and strength. Unlike the impulsive boys her age, Michael''s composed and thoughtful manner was irresistibly charming.


    As Michael''s conversation with the princess carried on, nobles milling around them shifted their attention to Dominic instead, flocking to the viscount in hopes of gaining favor.


    Meanwhile, Michael remained focused solely on Astrid, oblivious to the flurry of activity around him. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    A growing number of young women had also set their sights on Michael, intrigued by his rising reputation as the "Godly Archer" and his unassuming yet captivating presence. For many noblewomen, marriage was as much about survival as romance, and Michael¡ªunmarried, accomplished, and destined to inherit both title and land¡ªwas a prime candidate.


    Yet Michael''s straightforward nature and disinterest in social games created an unyielding barrier, leaving most of his admirers frustrated. His continued attention to Astrid stemmed from a desire to make a favorable impression on the princess, hoping she might speak positively of his family to the king.


    While Michael''s demeanor seemed warm and affable, his every word and gesture toward the princess was carefully measured, aimed at cultivating goodwill and rapport.


    As the evening wore on, the dazzling lights, lively music, and clinking glasses created a festive atmosphere. But for Michael, his sole focus remained on building a connection with Astrid.


    Fortunately, the princess''s affection for Miaomiao and Marcus ensured their conversation flowed easily. The night unfolded in a haze of laughter, charm, and mutual admiration, leaving the guests in awe of Michael''s composure and skillful diplomacy.


    The next morning, the inn was abuzz with activity.


    A colorful array of visitors¡ªnobles, knights, robed elders with flowing white beards, and portly merchants bedecked in opulent attire¡ªcrowded the premises, eagerly awaiting an audience.


    Sensing a business opportunity, the innkeeper set up a makeshift stall outside, selling refreshments to the throngs of people.

 Chapter 76 High Priest

    "Weren''t we told we''d see the sphinx and dragon here? Why haven''t they appeared yet?" demanded an elderly man with a beard so long it nearly reached his waist.His complaint was quickly echoed by others.


    "Exactly! I''ve been here since dawn!"


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    "Dawn? Ha! I heard the story from my apprentice last night and came running immediately. It''s a pity I couldn''t catch them after the banquet."


    The innkeeper chuckled inwardly. After a night of drinking, isn''t it reasonable to expect people to need some rest?


    The crowd outside the inn grew more restless, but the innkeeper had no intention of intervening beyond his business interests. Whether their knees give out or not isn''t my concern; I''m here to sell snacks and drinks, he thought smugly.


    Inside the inn, Treasurer Laurence finally emerged from his room after a leisurely breakfast. It was fortunate that he had instructed the innkeeper to keep the doors firmly shut the previous night.


    The moment the doors opened, Laurence was greeted by a sea of people that spilled out into the street.


    "Ah! At last! Now, where are the dragon and sphinx? Show them to us, quickly!"


    Laurence, a veteran of countless negotiations and chaotic markets, wasn''t the least bit flustered. Instead, he unfurled a set of papers in his hand and shouted over the clamor.


    "Listen up! If you want to meet the dragon or sphinx, please queue here. If you''re here to purchase magical items showcased last night, queue over there. No pushing or shoving, or you''ll be escorted out immediately! Take a number and wait your turn¡ªwe''ll call you in numerical order."


    Michael''s idea of distributing numbered tickets quickly restored order. Though initially surprised, the crowd soon fell into line, each person taking a ticket and moving to the appropriate area.


    By the end of the distribution, there were 78 individuals eager to speak about the dragon and sphinx, 39 ready to purchase magical items, and 15 others seeking private investment discussions. Many sent their attendants to hold their places, the streets echoing with chants of numbers as the attendees memorized their spots.


    Laurence set up shop in a separate room to handle the merchants. After all, no noble or knight of standing would stoop to haggling with traders themselves. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Fifty magical lamps in exchange for 300 oxen, 50 pack horses, and 2,000 sheep? Based on current livestock market prices, that''s about 15,000 gold. It''s a bit of a loss for us, considering it''s a barter deal, but we''ll agree¡ªon the condition that you transport the livestock to our fiefdom, and we''ll hand over the lamps upon delivery. Deal?"


    "Ten magical trays for 100 gold ingots? That''s absurdly low. You''re offering only ten finger-sized ingots per tray? Do you know how much nobles are willing to splurge on luxury items like this? These trays are practically eternal, as long as the mana stones are replenished. The short transfer range doesn''t diminish their value. Double the offer, and we have a deal."


    Laurence concluded deal after deal, his grin widening with every agreement. Watching the coffers swell with gold and goods brought him unbridled joy.


    Meanwhile, Michael handled the knights and mages in a neighboring room.


    "So, you wish to converse with Neferetari, the sphinx? And you''re affiliated with¡­ the Royal Academy''s Mage Tower? Impressive. What''s your specialization? Fire magic, fifth tier, I see. However, Neferetari is quite selective about whom she meets. If you''re truly interested, you could gain an audience by investing in our fiefdom''s development or contributing to the frontier effort. Would that work for you?"


    "You want dragon''s essence? Ha! You''re hardly the first to ask. What sets you apart from the rest? If you wish to stand out, I suggest supporting our endeavors¡ªperhaps through development aid or financial backing."


    By day''s end, Michael had secured pledges from 24 knights and 48 mages willing to relocate to his fiefdom.


    Others who couldn''t leave immediately promised investment funds and planned future visits to the territory. Some mages even proposed sending their disciples instead. Michael negotiated to accept three 7th-tier, five 8th-tier, and several 9th-tier disciples as proxies.


    As word spread, other mages followed suit, eager to offload their disciples onto the venture. By the end of the day, 20 senior mages had committed 160 disciples¡ª60 of 7th and 8th tier, and 100 of 9th tier¡ªto the endeavor. The senior mages themselves also pledged to visit, ensuring the fiefdom wouldn''t be short on magical expertise.


    While Michael and Laurence busily reaped the fruits of their efforts, Dominic was handling a more delicate matter.


    Accompanied by his intimidating father-in-law, Alfred, Dominic visited the main temple to register Leonardo and Ispher as contracted demons and secure their status as property of the Crassus family.


    As executioner and enforcer, Leonardo and Ispher would require official registration, including restrictions such as needing authorization to leave the territory and maintaining their initial forms when outside the fiefdom.


    Though Michael had hoped to use Ispher''s shadow concealment ability for covert operations, these restrictions made that impossible¡ªfor now. Still, Alfred and Miaomiao had noted the extraordinary refinement of Ispher''s shadow magic, which remained nearly undetectable.


    For the registry, Ispher''s tracking skills would be documented, while Leonardo''s artifact crafting was highlighted. Their more dangerous capabilities¡ªlike Leonardo''s enthrallment and Ispher''s combat-oriented stealth¡ªwould remain concealed, thanks to Alfred and Dominic''s intervention.


    The temple''s standard protocol involved two verification stages for demon abilities, but Alfred and Dominic''s reputations ensured that their declarations would suffice.


    When they arrived at the main temple, a black-robed priest greeted them warmly. His expression lit up upon recognizing Alfred.


    "Ah, High Priest Alfred! It''s been far too long. What a delight to see you again. Dare I hope this means you''re considering returning to the temple?"


    Alfred raised a hand to cut him off, his tone curt. "Unnecessary chatter. We''re here on other business."


    Dominic, standing beside him, looked visibly taken aback.


    High Priest? Returning?


    Alfred paid no mind to Dominic''s puzzled expression. The priest, glancing at Alfred briefly, cleared his throat and led them inside the temple. Dominic, who had never been close to his father-in-law, merely found himself curious. He had always suspected Alfred wasn''t just an ordinary executioner. Shaking off the thought, Dominic reminded himself of what mattered most: Alfred was helping Michael.

 Chapter 77 Serf Traders

    As they stepped into the temple, the radiant stained glass windows cast a dazzling glow. The air in the Temple of Death and Vengeance was both divine and solemn. Dominic was awestruck by the sacred atmosphere, while Alfred , seemingly unfazed, kept his gaze elsewhere.Contrary to his stern first impression, the priest conducted the registration process with surprising efficiency. Within ten minutes, everything was complete, with no trials involving the demonic beasts required¡ªjust a few basic questions for the records. Leonardo and Ispher received their transformation prohibitions and stepped out shortly after. Leonardo flexed his arm, inspecting the new restriction, while Ispher remained silent.


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    Curious about the situation back at the inn, Dominic hurried back. Alfred claimed to have other business and disappeared elsewhere, leaving the demonic beasts to follow Dominic.


    The inn was still bustling with activity. Dominic threw himself into assisting his son, deftly handling knights and nobles. In the midst of this chaos, Treasurer Lawrence approached Dominic with a discreet report.


    "My lord, there are 15 individuals waiting for private discussions with you," Lawrence murmured.


    Dominic frowned briefly before nodding. He made his way to a reserved guest room, where the first merchant soon entered. The man, with his plump figure and jiggling cheeks, approached with an exuberant smile. Rings encrusted with gemstones glimmered brightly as he clasped his hands together.


    "My lord! To meet you in person is truly an honor. I''ve heard so much about you. You embody the qualities of a hero!" the merchant began in a syrupy voice, bowing deeply.


    Dominic coughed lightly and fixed the merchant with a steady gaze, determined not to be deceived by his seemingly foolish demeanor and flattering words.


    "Enough with the pleasantries. Let''s get straight to the point. Why did you request to see me?" Dominic asked.


    Momentarily flustered, the merchant quickly regained his composure, offering an awkward smile before explaining his business.


    "Ah... Would you be in need of serfs, by any chance? The more serfs a new territory has, the better, wouldn''t you agree?"


    Dominic''s interest was piqued. Could this man be one of the rumored serf traders? Narrowing his eyes, he tried to gauge the merchant''s intentions.


    "Explain in detail," Dominic commanded.


    Seeing Dominic''s growing interest, the merchant''s cheeks quivered with excitement.


    "Indeed, my lord. I have 500 slaves of impeccable status awaiting a new master. What do you think?"


    Dominic remained silent for a moment, his thoughts swirling.


    "That would depend on where these serfs come from," he finally said.


    The merchant leaned forward, his excitement mounting. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "There are no issues whatsoever! It''s a common matter. While people may be scarce in the northern regions, the south has the opposite problem. There, the land is limited, but the serfs keep multiplying. Their lords even prohibit them from marrying to curb the numbers!"


    Dominic frowned at the explanation. It sounded plausible, but...


    "Isn''t buying and selling people against the law? How do you plan to handle the paperwork?" Dominic inquired, his skepticism evident.


    The merchant, unfazed by Dominic''s suspicious gaze, offered a sly grin.


    "It''s quite simple. You''ll purchase 10 pyeong of land in the southern territories. The paperwork already states that the serfs are attached to that land. They''ll legally become your property. Since it''s unlikely a northern lord would manage land in the south, you can quickly resell the land and solve the issue."


    Dominic pondered the proposal. It was undeniably tempting. If the merchant''s words were true, it would be an efficient way to increase the population and develop new farmland.


    Sensing Dominic''s hesitation, the merchant eagerly added more incentives.


    "Let''s sweeten the deal! To celebrate forming ties with a distinguished figure like you, I''m willing to take a slight loss. How about this? I''ll throw in an additional 50 serfs¡ª550 in total¡ªfor the price of 500."


    Dominic made up his mind. Passing up such an opportunity would be foolish.


    "Very well, but there''s a condition. The serfs must be sold as family units. I won''t allow families to be separated, as it would cause unrest or attempts to escape."


    The merchant hesitated, annoyed at the stipulation. Originally, he had planned to separate the attractive ones for individual sale. Still, adhering to Dominic''s terms would allow him to offload the elderly and children as well. His hesitation was brief.


    "Agreed. However, the robust men and women are already accounted for, so bringing their families will increase the overall numbers. Here''s the breakdown: 100 gold per able-bodied man (180 in total), 70 gold per able-bodied woman (160 in total), and 45 gold per elderly or child regardless of gender. Would it be acceptable to include the extra 50 serfs from the elderly and children category?"


    Dominic nodded. The price seemed reasonable.


    "I''ll pay a deposit of 1,000 gold for now. Who is vouching for your credibility?" Dominic asked, wanting to avoid being swindled.


    "The guarantee for my identity comes from Lord Balkan, a southern baron who manages serf trading. Here is his certification," the merchant replied, producing a document.


    Dominic examined the document, which bore Baron Balkan''s seal, and nodded in satisfaction.


    "Where will the exchange and final payment take place?" the merchant inquired.


    After some thought, Dominic gave his instructions. Transporting such a large group of serfs directly from the current location was unnecessary.


    "The serfs should be delivered to the new territory. Set up a flag and station soldiers in the gorge near Iron Valley. Once we leave the capital, bring them there. Ensure there are no losses during transit¡ªthey''re already sold."


    The merchant grinned broadly as he replied, "Thank you for such a generous deal, my lord. I will ensure the serfs are well-fed and in perfect condition before they are sent to you."


    This transaction, precariously straddling the line between legality and expedience, was just one of 14 similar deals that followed. By evening, Dominic had secured 3,987 serfs, three Grade-9 magical beasts, and five passes to the black market. The serfs were necessary to populate the newly acquired lands, while the beasts were essential for the pioneering efforts.

 Chapter 78 Spending Time With Astrid

    Dominic couldn''t help but reflect on the events of the day. It was clear now why merchants like these naturally sought out nobles who had been granted new territories. What he''d heard turned out to be true.Meanwhile, Lawrence and Michael had concluded their negotiations as well. Once the delivery of goods was finalized, the funds available for managing the new territory would significantly increase. The fact that they could relocate without incurring debt was already remarkable. Baron Kensington, notorious for his financial struggles, looked on at them with envious eyes.


    With most of the tasks in the capital completed, Dominic''s gaze shifted to Michael.


    "Well, it seems we''ve wrapped up most of the work here. Are you ready to depart for the territory? If all is in order, we could leave as early as tomorrow," he said.


    Michael recalled his promise to the princess. He had expressed a desire to visit the royal library, and to his surprise, the princess had agreed.


    "I''ve made plans to visit the royal library with the princess tomorrow afternoon," Michael responded.


    Dominic''s face lit up with pride. "Well done, my son!" he exclaimed, clapping Michael on the shoulder in encouragement. "That''s excellent news. Even after we leave the capital, make sure to keep in touch with the princess. Who knows? She might even become a lady of the house someday."


    Michael nodded. It was a prospect he too had hoped for.


    "Yes, we''ve already agreed to exchange letters. Her character is truly admirable," he said.


    Spring was in full bloom at the royal palace. The lush grass shimmered, and flower petals danced in the breeze, carrying their fragrance throughout the gardens.


    Michael greeted the princess as she approached in casual attire, a stark contrast to her formal appearance at the ball.


    "Once again, you look radiant, Princess. It is an honor to meet you again," Michael said with a warm smile.


    Princess Astrid returned the smile and replied, "Please, call me Astrid. Today, we''re meeting as friends who share a love for books."


    "If that''s the case, Astrid it is. Shall we?" Michael offered his arm.


    "Yes, Sir Michael."


    Michael supported her hand with a gentlemanly touch and walked slightly ahead, carefully scanning for obstacles in their path. His refined manners, a skill honed under Lincoln''s guidance, did not go unnoticed. The handmaidens accompanying the princess exchanged glances of admiration at his elegance, which was far from typical of a knight.


    As they strolled through the gardens, their conversation flowed naturally. Astrid shared stories about the books she had recently begun reading, and Michael listened attentively, offering his thoughts when appropriate.


    "Sir Michael, your insights are remarkable. I truly enjoy our discussions," Astrid said, her voice filled with genuine appreciation.


    Michael silently thanked Lincoln. Without his teachings, he would have surely exposed his lack of knowledge.


    "The pleasure is all mine, Astrid. I never imagined I''d meet someone so brilliant and charming during my time in the capital," Michael replied.


    Astrid, with a soft smile, led him to the royal library. The grand space was both majestic and timeless, with walls lined with bookshelves stretching to the ceiling. A large, inviting table with plush chairs stood at the center of the room.


    "This is my favorite place in the palace. Here, I can read to my heart''s content and dream of the world beyond," Astrid said, her voice filled with a hint of longing.


    Michael admired the library, nodding in agreement. He also made a point to offer her words of reassurance. "One day, you''ll see that vast world with your own eyes. This is truly a beautiful space."


    Astrid looked at him with a wistful gaze. Could that dream really come true?


    "There are so many books here. I''ve never seen anything like it," Michael remarked.


    "Our kingdom has collected these books over many years. From fairy tales for children to enchanting tomes of magic, we preserve every book we acquire, even those taken as spoils of war," Astrid explained.


    Michael marveled at the collection. It was no small feat to gather such a vast array of knowledge, especially considering the challenges noble families faced in protecting their legacies.


    "Would it be inappropriate if I read some of these?" he asked.


    "Not at all. Feel free to explore the general collection. Unfortunately, the restricted section is off-limits. It''s my father''s rule, and I must follow it," Astrid said with an apologetic smile.


    Michael returned the smile, reassuring her. "No need to apologize, Astrid. This is more than enough. Shall we pick out some books together?"


    Her cheeks flushed slightly as she nodded with a laugh. They quietly selected their books and settled into their seats to read. The handmaidens, sensing an opportunity to give the princess some freedom, discreetly left the library. They had worked hard to convince the queen to allow this meeting and hoped it would bring Astrid some solace.


    Time passed in serene silence, broken only by the sound of turning pages. After two hours, Michael glanced up and found Astrid deeply engrossed in her book, biting her lower lip lightly¡ªa habit, it seemed.


    He couldn''t help but admire her beauty, though his admiration felt more like appreciating a work of art than romantic desire. Sensing his gaze, Astrid looked up and met his eyes. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red. Read exclusive adventures at My Virtual Library Empire Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "You''re staring. It''s embarrassing," she murmured.


    "Forgive me, Astrid. I couldn''t help it. You look so captivating when you''re focused," Michael admitted.


    Flustered, Astrid quickly set her book down and stood. "It''s already so late. I should be going. I''ll send you a letter soon."


    Michael rose and bowed politely. "I''ll look forward to it, Astrid. I hope today brought you as much joy as it did me."


    "I truly enjoyed myself as well. Until next time," Astrid said before leaving the library with a graceful demeanor. Outside, she instructed her handmaidens to close the door and leaned against it, trying to calm her racing heart.


    Her thoughts raced. The way Michael had looked at her, the way her face had burned¡ªit was overwhelming. What was this feeling?


    As Michael exited the palace, he felt lighter than ever. He believed they had grown close enough for the king to speak kindly of him. Continued correspondence with Astrid would surely yield even more benefits in the future.

 Chapter 79 Judge People Based On Appearances

    Dominic and Michael had arrived in the Barony of Crassus and were inspecting the harvest stored in the warehouses. Though the journey had been exhausting, the sight of the vast troves of goods piled high in the storage quickly banished their fatigue. The warehouse was packed with chests of gold ingots and a variety of valuable items."To simplify transport for the move to the new territory, I converted most of the funds into gold ingots. It''s much easier to move that way," Dominic explained.


    Michael nodded in agreement. "That was wise of you. The total was 280,000 gold, wasn''t it?"


    "Yes, and after conversion, it came out to five chests of ingots. I plan to assign guards to keep them secure," Dominic replied.


    Michael, deep in thought for a moment, offered a suggestion. "Why not hide the gold under the seat of my carriage? If my sisters ride in my carriage, the added security won''t seem unusual."


    Dominic, who had been admiring the stacks of goods with satisfaction, looked up and nodded. "That''s a good idea. That way, we won''t draw unnecessary attention."


    Relieved about the transportation plan, Dominic suddenly had a thought. "But wait, will Marcus and Miaomiao be in the same carriage? What if Marcus sees the chests of gold and becomes tempted?"


    The thought of a dragon in close proximity to a stash of gold, only to have it taken away, was enough to conjure images of chaos and bloodshed. While Marcus was considered unusually docile for a dragon, there was no telling how he might react to such temptation.


    "If he doesn''t see the gold, there won''t be any problem. Dragons can''t smell gold through a sealed chest, after all," Michael reassured him.


    The logic was sound¡ªso long as the chests were properly sealed and out of sight, Marcus wouldn''t even notice.


    "Alright then, I trust you with this," Dominic said with a nod.


    "I''ll have Leonardo prepare a space under the seat of the carriage. With Miaomiao and Marcus around, there won''t be any issues with safety," Michael added.


    Dominic, his face lighting up with satisfaction, cast another glance at the treasure-filled warehouse. "It''s truly gratifying. Never in my life did I imagine our storage would be filled with such fine goods."


    In addition to the gold ingots, there were ten chests of high-quality fabrics, ten chests each of premium tea and coffee, ten chests of spices excluding salt, three chests of assorted gems, five sets of armor, twelve longswords, and a chest of Grade-5 or lower magic cores.


    After confirming the excellent condition of all the items, the two men exchanged looks of relief. These treasures would serve as a crucial foundation for their new territory. On top of this, there were numerous other resources set to be transported, including three magical beasts and 3,987 serfs. The anticipation of the incoming mages and knights only added to their sense of satisfaction.


    Dominic sighed, his tone tinged with both relief and a hint of melancholy. "This is enough to get us started in the new territory, but now we need to assess the state of the villages there."


    Leaving one''s long-held lands was never easy, even if the new lands promised more opportunity. Most of the freemen had already pledged to follow the Crassus family to the new territory, so ensuring adequate housing for them was another task that needed to be addressed.


    "There''s supposed to be an existing castle in the new territory, isn''t there?" Michael asked.


    Dominic nodded. "Yes, Iron Valley was once the domain of Baron Crown. However, after the Pamir Empire''s invasion, the baron and his entire household, including their retainers, were massacred. The land was left abandoned without an heir. Being on the frontier, no lord has wanted to claim it since. If it feels ominous, we can always summon priests to perform a cleansing ritual and start repairs."


    Michael held back a smirk. A cleansing ritual? If there were any lingering spirits, they could actually prove useful.


    "That won''t be necessary," Michael replied gently. "I''ll take Miaomiao and scout the area first."


    Dominic''s face brightened at the offer. With so much already on his plate, delegating the task was a relief. "Would you? Check how much of it is damaged and report back. Afterward, you can take Elizabeth and her attendants to discuss how best to renovate." Your next read is at My Virtual Library Empire


    Michael smiled. Working alongside Elizabeth on various preparations during their trip to the capital had brought them closer. Though she appeared reserved on the surface, she was caring and highly capable when it came to managing tasks. Thinking of his sharp and dependable sister brought a chuckle to his lips.


    "Yes, being a former baron''s castle, it''s bound to be larger than our current one," he noted.


    "Undoubtedly. Will you be taking guards with you?" Dominic asked.


    "That won''t be necessary. You know Miaomiao''s temperament," Michael replied.


    Dominic grimaced at the thought of the small creature, who seemed to hiss at him every chance it got. "True enough¡­ I can''t quite figure out what Miaomiao''s criteria are. Why does it dislike me so much?" S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael wisely kept silent. How could he tell his father that Miaomiao judged people based on appearances?


    "To check the iron deposits, it might be a good idea to bring Marcus as well," Michael continued. "Please handle the preparations here. I''ll take Miaomiao and Marcus to Iron Valley."


    Dominic looked at him with concern, the bond between them having grown stronger over time. "Be careful. And take the new longsword with you¡ªit''s made of pure silver."


    "Yes, Father," Michael said with a respectful nod before leaving the room.


    The longsword, crafted from silver, was light and effective against spirits. It was rare to acquire such a weapon unless passed down through a noble family or obtained directly from the kingdom, making it a valuable addition. Perhaps one day, he''d be able to don a full set of silver armor as well.


    With his attendants helping him prepare for departure, Michael mounted Bucephalus with Miaomiao perched on his shoulder. The small creature gazed up at the sky, while Marcus soared above them, his powerful wings cutting through the air. The gentle spring breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers, and the fields below were awash with vibrant colors.

 Chapter 80 Cursed Castle

    [Miaomiao, do you think the castle will be bigger than this one?] Michael asked, breaking the silence."It should be, considering it''s a baron''s castle. Why do you ask?" he replied.


    Miaomiao licked its paw nonchalantly. [I''d like my own room. Marcus snores too loudly.]


    Michael chuckled. "True, his snoring can be quite loud. Alright, when we renovate the castle, I''ll make sure you have your own room next to mine. Ispher mentioned wanting to stay close for security, so it''ll have to be a big room. Don''t worry, I''ll make it happen." S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Miaomiao flicked its tail with approval. [Well, I suppose I don''t mind Ispher sharing.]


    Known for its superficial judgments based on appearances, Miaomiao resumed grooming its paw. Michael narrowed his eyes as he observed the creature. Yes, Ispher was handsome, but it wasn''t worth debating. Instead, he changed the topic.


    "I''ve only seen the castle on maps, so I''m curious to see what it looks like in person. With you and Marcus around, I doubt any magical beasts will dare approach."


    Miaomiao raised its nose in mock indignation. [Of course not. How dare mere beasts come near us? Marcus and I are divine beings.]


    "Yes, yes, I know," Michael said as he looked at the map. "According to this, the mine should be located behind the castle. We''ll have to see what state it''s in."


    [Naturally, that little chick will find it easily,] Miaomiao quipped, licking a paw. [He''s so good at digging through the ground, after all.]


    Michael sighed, turning to the feline on his shoulder. "Can''t you treat Marcus a bit better? He doesn''t even have other dragons to live with. Don''t you feel sorry for him?"


    [Hmph! I treat him just fine,] Miaomiao replied, flicking her tail. [Calling him ''chick'' is just a nickname. Look at him flapping around up there¡ªhe''s exactly like a baby bird, don''t you think?]


    Michael glanced up at Marcus, who was soaring joyfully through the air, twisting and turning in graceful loops. His red scales gleamed in the sunlight, reflecting a dazzling glow. There wasn''t a trace of the aggressive nature usually associated with dragons; instead, he looked as carefree as a fledgling taking its first flight.


    "Well¡­ I''ll admit, he does seem innocent," Michael remarked.


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    As they ventured beyond the village, Marcus reverted to his true form, spreading his massive wings and performing elegant aerial maneuvers. The sight of his shimmering scales against the backdrop of a clear spring sky added to the serene beauty of the moment.


    Bucephalus, restless from the slow pace, pawed at the ground with his front hooves. Sensing the stallion''s impatience, Michael decided it was time for a change of pace. Gripping the reins tightly, he called out, "How about we pick up the pace, Miaomiao? Hold on tight!"


    [Don''t worry about me, focus on yourself!] Miaomiao retorted, her tail flicking in defiance.


    Under the vibrant spring sun, with flowers in full bloom across the rolling fields, Michael, Miaomiao, and Bucephalus dashed forward, their spirits soaring. Marcus, too, quickened his pace, gliding effortlessly in the air to keep up.


    When they arrived at Iron Valley, the village surrounding the castle came into view. It was unusual in design: the castle wasn''t surrounded by walls. Instead, the village seemed to encircle the castle itself.


    As Michael rode through the village, he noticed a few houses still appeared inhabited. Could these be remnants of the previous Baron Crown''s subjects? According to his knowledge, the villagers tied to Iron Valley had long been absorbed into neighboring territories.


    Curious, Michael approached the nearest house, a modest farmhouse. He knocked on the door, and after a moment, an elderly woman with snow-white hair cautiously peered out. The interior was dim and littered with straw, evidence that livestock had been housed indoors through the winter.


    "Who''s there? Oh my, a nobleman!" the woman exclaimed, her hands trembling as she prepared to bow low.


    Michael quickly stopped her, offering a reassuring smile. "There''s no need for such formalities. Are you a resident of Iron Valley?"


    "Yes, my lord," the woman replied, her voice quivering. "My name is Osa, a humble native of these lands."


    Michael softened his tone, aware of her frailty. "Osa, I thought all the villagers here had been relocated to neighboring territories. Why are you still here?"


    Osa sighed deeply before answering. "Well, my lord, families with strong, able-bodied men were accepted by other territories, but those of us who are old and weak had nowhere to go. The land here is empty, so we scrape by, barely surviving. Do we¡­ need to leave now?"


    Panic crept into Osa''s voice as she gripped her apron tightly. Michael quickly reassured her, "No, nothing like that. My family has been granted this land, and I''m here to survey it. How many others are still living here?"


    Osa hesitated, counting on her fingers slowly. She seemed honest but struggled with larger numbers. "Well¡­ there''s me, my husband, and my simple-minded son¡ªthat''s three of us. Next door, old Miranda and her husband make two more. Across the way, Piggy''s house has three, and further down, Jona''s household has four since their elder passed this winter. That''s it."


    Michael nodded. Her count matched the visible signs of life in the village¡ªfour occupied houses.


    "So, there are twelve of you altogether," he confirmed. "I''ve heard there''s still a castle here. What condition is it in?"


    Osa''s small eyes widened in fear, and she wrung her hands nervously. "Oh, kind knight, please don''t take my words the wrong way, but that place is cursed. We''ve managed to survive out here in the village, but no one who has stayed in the castle has lived long."


    Michael frowned. "What do you mean? As far as I know, Baron Crown and his family died during the war."


    Osa shook her head sadly. "That''s true, but the baron''s family was only a distant branch that inherited the title. They were wiped out within three months. Before them, the previous lords died of illness, their entire household wasting away. And before them, another family invited all sorts of exorcists to drive out what they said were evil spirits, only to meet their end as well."

 Chapter 81 Youre Keeping Track Of My Payment Properly, Right?

    Her voice dropped to a whisper. "For nearly 500 years, my family has lived here, and the stories of the castle have always been grim. Even the sturdiest knights who dared enter ended up sickly and weak. People say they hear a woman crying at night, or they see fingers reaching out from the well. That''s why most of the villagers left¡ªafraid the curse would seep out into the village."Michael studied her trembling hands and frightened expression. Her account, however fantastical, didn''t seem fabricated.


    "If it''s such a notorious place, why haven''t I heard any rumors about it across the region?" he asked.


    Osa''s reply was humble. "Well, my lord, it''s just gossip among us common folk. We''ve never had the chance to tell anyone important."


    Her explanation made sense. If he had inherited land from a distant relative, he wouldn''t have paid much attention to local superstitions either. The repeated deaths and the lack of heirs could explain why the Crown family line had dwindled and the land had reverted to the kingdom.


    But Michael had one more question. "As a baronial domain, there must have been priests or executioners from the Radiant Church here. What did they do about it? Executioners are essentially priests of death and vengeance, after all." Continue your adventure at My Virtual Library Empire


    Osa clasped her hands together, bowing her head. "We might call it a curse, but the officials seemed to think it was just a coincidence. I''ve never heard of the priests doing anything. When the villagers left, they left too."


    Michael turned his gaze toward the distant castle. The stories certainly gave it an eerie air, but instead of fear, he smiled.


    A curse? Evil spirits? He thought to himself, That might actually be a good thing.


    As Michael approached the castle, Miaomiao cautiously spoke to him.


    "[Michael, this might not be as easy as it seems, Miao. Isn''t it strange that no one has claimed a territory with an iron mine, a castle, and a village still intact, Miao? There must be rumors circulating among the nobles, Miao. The Radiance Church is notoriously irresponsible, and executioners are such a closed-off group with highly individualistic tendencies. If the executioner here is an irresponsible person, it''s likely they avoided dealing with something they couldn''t handle, Miao.]"


    In the light that stretched across the village square, Michael listened to Miaomiao''s concerns and paused to think. Her green eyes glimmered nervously as she awaited his response.


    Michael, understanding her worries, smiled to reassure her. "Yes, I know. Under normal circumstances, this place would already belong to someone. Don''t worry. I''m not going to the castle alone. For now, I want to check the condition of the iron mine in the mountains behind the castle. We''ll go to the castle together tomorrow with Grandpa. Does that sound okay?"


    Relieved, Miaomiao curled her tail and settled back onto the saddle of Bucephalos. "[That''s a relief, Miao. I was worried you might get too excited and do something irreversible... Not that I think you''re weak or untrustworthy, Miao!]"


    Seeing her watching him anxiously, Michael gently stroked her brow. His touch carried a genuine warmth, and Miaomiao half-closed her eyes, purring contentedly.


    "Don''t worry, I''m not that reckless. Thanks to Oisin''s power¡ªat least, I think that''s the reason¡ªI''m getting stronger every day. I feel like the absorbed mana is affecting my body."


    After mulling it over, Miaomiao nodded in agreement. Her black fur shimmered in the sunlight. "[That''s entirely possible, Miao. After all, we''re strong because we''re born with mana. It would make sense for humans infused with mana to experience the same, Miao.]"


    Michael gestured toward Marcus, who was still soaring through the sky. Apparently keeping an eye on them even while flying freely, Marcus descended and began to shrink in size. His massive frame gradually transformed until he was about the size of a pony.


    "[Ah, that was delightful. Sister. Human¡ªno, Michael. Why did you call me?]" Marcus''s landing caused a slight ripple in the air as he turned his curious gaze to Michael.


    "We''re about to explore the mine," Michael explained. "I''ve heard that dragons are naturally skilled at prospecting and mining. Is that true?"


    Having previously yielded to Miaomiao''s insistence that he drop formal speech with her, Marcus stood proudly, his chest puffed out, exuding confidence. His eyes gleamed with pride. "[Of course! Human¡ªno, Michael. As a member of the great Red Dragons, I possess exceptional talent for locating and excavating minerals.]" S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Playing to Marcus''s ego, Michael praised him enthusiastically. "That''s incredible, Marcus. Truly worthy of the great Red Dragons. So we''ll get to see that talent in action today."


    Pleased, Marcus spread the thin membranes of his face wide open. "[Indeed, Michael. You''ll witness my abilities firsthand.]"


    Though Miaomiao looked at Marcus with disdain, Michael remained undeterred. "Great! Thank you, Marcus. I''m counting on you. I heard there''s an iron mine in that mountain range. Can you check how long it is and how much ore it contains?"


    "[Understood. Wait here a moment.]" Marcus spread his wings grandly, preparing to take off.


    "Wait a minute! Marcus, you need to carry us. Go back to your original size over at that clearing."


    Marcus nodded and flew toward the clearing. While Michael secured Bucephalos in an empty stable, Miaomiao whispered behind him. "[That fool¡­ He doesn''t even know he should demand compensation for labor, Miao. Really, he''s such a naive chick, Miao. Michael, you''re keeping track of my payment properly, right, Miao?]"


    Michael recalled her payment as explained by his grandfather: one gold per day, along with a good meal and milk. Since the food and milk were being provided daily, it seemed she was referring to the gold. "Of course! Your gold is being carefully saved. By the way, Miaomiao, do you know what an investment is?"


    While Michael subtly tried to introduce her to the concept of investment¡ªor, perhaps, a scam¡ªMarcus reached the clearing and returned to his original size. Michael approached him, holding a specially crafted saddle he had requested from Leonardo.

 Chapter 82 Easy To Fool

    The saddle, made of finely worked leather and metal, was imbued with shape adjusting magic. Michael draped it over the area between Marcus''s shoulders. The saddle automatically expanded to fit perfectly against his massive frame. He tightened the straps securely around Marcus''s body, ensuring a snug fit."Alright, Marcus. Try jumping a bit," Michael instructed.


    Marcus leaped into the air without hesitation, testing the saddle''s stability. Despite his vigorous movements, the saddle remained firmly in place. Satisfied, Michael climbed onto the saddle, gripping the reins embedded between Marcus''s scales. Marcus, in turn, crouched low to make it easier for Michael to mount. Once everything was secured, Michael called out, "Let''s go!"


    With a powerful beat of Marcus''s enormous wings, they rose swiftly into the sky. The ground fell away beneath them as Michael marveled at the stunning view of the open sky, the vast landscape below, and the distant mountain range.


    Perhaps thanks to his training as a pilot, the flight felt unexpectedly smooth. Glancing back at him, Marcus''s eyes sparkled with a hint of challenge. "[Can we go faster, Michael?]"


    Michael chuckled. "Go ahead. As fast as you like!" Explore more stories with My Virtual Library Empire


    With a small smirk, Marcus flapped his wings even harder. He had secretly expected the human to struggle, but to his surprise, Michael seemed completely unfazed.


    ''How is he still so calm?'' Marcus wondered incredulously.


    Michael kept his eyes open, enjoying the wind rushing past him. Although he was wearing specially designed goggles crafted by Leonardo, it was still remarkable to see a human remain so composed in the sky.


    Marcus, curious about Michael''s resilience, decided to test him with a series of acrobatic maneuvers. He dove and climbed rapidly, twisting his body freely in the air. Yet Michael''s expression remained unchanged; in fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself.


    Admitting defeat internally, Marcus finally acknowledged Michael. Well, at least someone of his caliber deserves to be my contractor.


    Despite Marcus''s antics, they eventually arrived at the mine nestled midway up the mountain range. The mine was embedded in a massive rock face, and as Michael dismounted onto the overgrown clearing in front of it, he clicked his tongue.


    The mine entrance was overgrown with waist high grass, and abandoned mining tools were scattered haphazardly, showing how long it had been since operations ceased. Michael bent down to inspect the ground. Picking up a piece of brown tinged iron ore from a mining cart, he handed it to Marcus.


    "Here, Marcus. This is what we''re looking for. If you can figure out how much of this is here and how deep it runs, I''ll make sure to decorate your lair with even more gold. Your future diet of plump cattle¡ªor, heaven forbid, scrawny sheep and goats¡ªdepends on your work today. So, do your best."


    Marcus snorted in indignation.


    "[Scrawny sheep or goats? Watch and see how skilled I am at locating minerals! But tonight, I demand a cows as a reward, no two cows.]"


    The kitten shot Michael a shocked look, torn between chastising him for exploiting Marcus or berating the gullible dragon for being so easily manipulated.


    Watching Marcus storm toward the mine entrance in a huff, Miaomiao sighed. "[That fool¡­ Doesn''t he remember we already agreed on a set food allowance? Michael, you tell me to be nice to the chick, and yet¡­ What''s this about?]"


    Michael coughed lightly. "Sometimes compromises are necessary in social situations," he muttered.


    Meanwhile, Marcus sniffed the ground, shook his head, and pressed his paws against various spots as if searching for something. Suddenly, he lifted his head sharply and pointed in a direction with the tip of his wing.


    "[Over here! The vein extends this way. Get on my back.]"


    Miaomiao grumbled. "[It''s rare to see a dragon so eager to carry people, Miao.]"


    "Shh! Don''t complain. If he''s being cooperative, what''s the harm in that?" Michael said, silencing her.


    With Miaomiao mumbling something about disgraces to dragons and divine beasts, Michael climbed onto Marcus''s back. Marcus, already familiar with the process, waited patiently while Michael secured the harness to the saddle. Do other dragon riders have dragons this compliant? Probably not, Michael mused.


    "Thanks, Marcus. Let''s go," Michael said.


    With a nod, Marcus launched into the air, beating his wings powerfully as they ascended. He flew over the mine and continued deeper into the mountains. As they traveled farther, Michael grew suspicious and asked, "Wait, Marcus. Are you sure? It feels like we''ve already left the mine''s boundary."


    Marcus tilted his head to look back at Michael, his eyes gleaming with confidence. "[Of course, human. Are you doubting my ability? I''m following the vein, and the quality of the ore is improving the farther we go.]"


    Michael burst out laughing. "Haha, not bad at all. Good job, Marcus. I''ll ask the chef to prepare extra steaks for you tonight as a reward." sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "[Ha! This is nothing. I can find even more if you want!]" Marcus declared, lifting his head proudly.


    Miaomiao, unimpressed, shook her head and muttered, "[That fool¡­]"


    The extent of the vein far exceeded what Michael had seen on maps in the royal palace. It stretched across the mountains, reaching a small plateau and even a lake. Seeing this, Michael called out, "Marcus! Is there iron ore beneath that plateau and lake too?"


    Marcus lazily flicked his tail. "[Yes, human no, Michael. The amount of iron ore beneath the lake is several times greater than what''s on land.]"


    Michael fell into thought. It was clear that the Crown family had only mined the most accessible areas of the mountains. He recalled hearing that the mines had been abandoned due to the low quality of exposed ore, which made it difficult to produce high grade iron and required costly charcoal imports. However, the ore beneath the lake and plateau was far superior.


    Excitement bubbled within Michael at the new possibilities. "Miaomiao, do you think we could mine the plateau and lake areas using Marcus and some mages from the capital?"

 Chapter 83 Asking For Help

    "[It''s possible, Miao. But if you start mining, the royal family will find out. Are you okay with that?]"Michael hesitated. If they could produce high-quality iron ore, it might be worth sharing the profits with the royal family at a 70-30 split to start mining operations. However, this wasn''t a decision he could make alone. He resolved to discuss it with his father first.


    "Marcus, that''s enough for now. Let''s stop here," Michael said.


    Marcus slowed his flight. The vein didn''t extend much farther and wouldn''t cross the border. That reassured Michael. A broader conflict with the Pamir Empire would become inevitable if rumors spread about the wealth of high-quality ore near the border.


    While the plateau and lake technically belonged to Iron Valley, territorial disputes often came down to brute force rather than legal claims. Still, the potential profits from mining made it worth the risk.


    Michael gazed at the wetlands near the lake. If he claimed the wetlands were being developed into farmland to bolster food production, he could discreetly mine the iron ore without drawing too much attention. The region''s lack of food production provided a plausible excuse.


    "Marcus, do you think the vein extends beyond the lake and plateau?"


    Marcus considered it for a moment before answering, "[I suspect it might touch the mountains slightly, but it doesn''t go much farther.]"


    Relieved, Michael nodded. If the vein didn''t extend beyond the mountains, the risk of disputes would be minimized. Still, with war clouds looming, avoiding conflict entirely might be impossible.


    Looking around at the towering mountains, Michael felt a measure of comfort. Even if war broke out, the mountains would provide a strong defensive position.


    Drawing on memories from his previous life, Michael observed the area more closely. The regions Marcus identified as containing ore had smaller, tilted trees, while the areas beyond the vein were far denser with vegetation.


    "That should be enough for now," Michael decided.


    He climbed back onto Marcus''s back. The next step was to find the former residents of Iron Valley. There must be skilled miners among them who could handle this work.


    Returning to the castle, Michael went to find his father. Dominic was immersed in writing documents.


    "Oh, Michael. You''re back? So, how''s the castle?"


    "I scouted the village and focused on exploring the mine. As for the castle, I heard there might be some issues, so I plan to visit again tomorrow with Grandfather."


    "Issues? What sort of issues?"


    Michael explained what the old woman had told him.


    "Hmm... Wise decision. It''s best not to take unnecessary risks. But a curse, you say? Now that I think about it, the Crown Viscount family ending without an heir is certainly unusual. So you''ll be going with your grandfather?"


    "Yes. He''s the most trustworthy person I know."


    "Haha, that''s true."


    Dominic recalled the priest from the Temple of Death and Vengeance, the one who had nervously referred to Alfred as the High Priest.


    "So, are you heading to your grandfather''s house now?"


    "Yes. By the way, Grandfather has decided to live in the castle, but I''m not sure when he''ll be moving in."


    Michael feigned ignorance as Dominic''s eyes flickered with unease. Well, I''m the one bringing him here, so what can he do about it?


    "Oh... I see. That''s a great idea," Dominic said, giving up on voicing his concerns. Although Alfred could be a challenging presence, having him live in the castle would offer many advantages.


    "And I''d like to bring back the former residents of Iron Valley who worked in the mines. How should I go about doing that?" Michael asked.


    "That''s simple. Most of them probably moved to nearby territories. Speak with the lords of those territories, offer a form of compensation, and persuade the former residents directly to return. It''s a good plan. Skilled miners will definitely help with the excavation efforts."


    "Understood. I''ll visit the nearby territories soon."


    "Alright. I''ll write letters for you to deliver. Come to my office tomorrow morning; I''ll have them ready."


    "Thank you, Father."


    Dominic watched Michael''s back as he left the office, pride evident in his gaze. Then, he returned to his work, faced with a mountain of tasks awaiting resolution.


    Michael rode Bucephalos alone, traveling familiar paths. The villagers he encountered in the square greeted him warmly.


    Miaomiao and Marcus, claiming they needed rest after yesterday''s exertions, had sprawled out in Michael''s chambers and refused to budge. Michael didn''t mind; he, too, wanted some quiet time with his grandfather and was content to let them rest.


    The familiar trail through the forest eventually led him to the house he longed to see.


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    Alfred was outside in the clearing, splitting logs. Each time the wood split with a sharp crack, his arm muscles rippled with power. Watching the display, Michael swallowed hard. He looks just like the strongest wrestlers I admired in my past life.


    "I''m here, Grandfather," Michael called.


    Alfred tossed the last piece of split wood onto a nearby pile and turned to his grandson.


    "Ah, you''re here. I take it something''s come up."


    Michael scratched his head awkwardly. "Sorry, Grandfather. It seems I only visit when there''s a problem."


    Alfred waved him off. "Nonsense. Come inside."


    Once inside, Michael settled on the sofa near the fireplace. Alfred, with practiced ease, prepared tea and handed a cup to Michael.


    "Here, have a cup. What''s going on?"


    Michael recounted the events in detail. Alfred listened attentively, his brow furrowing as the story unfolded. He sipped his tea thoughtfully before speaking.


    "If the executioner assigned to that area is the one I know, then it makes sense. He was a lazy drunkard who never took his job seriously. A man like that wouldn''t have risked his life unnecessarily. As for the priests of the Radiance Church, ordinary priests are weaklings not worth mentioning. It seems clear there''s some sort of issue within the castle."


    "Exactly. That''s why I thought it''d be dangerous to go alone and came to you for help. I''m sorry to keep burdening you like this."


    Alfred looked up at Michael, his crimson eyes carrying a familiar weight of sorrow. He smiled gently.


    "Don''t be ridiculous. Helping you brings me joy. When do you plan to leave?" sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Tomorrow, I think. I''ll take Miaomiao and Marcus with me. They''ve been a great help."

 Chapter 84 The Baron Of Chamber

    "Ah, you seem to have grown close to Miaomiao. That little one loves handsome and beautiful things, so I figured she''d warm up to you.""Haha, I''m flattered. Thank you, Grandfather." S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "But there''s a slight problem. I have an errand to run tomorrow, so I''ll be away for a bit. Could we leave the day after?"


    "There''s no rush. The title transfer for the territory hasn''t been finalized, and the nobles of the northeastern and northwestern provinces seem to be locked in a power struggle. I''ll use tomorrow to take care of some business and come back the day after."


    "That sounds like a good plan."


    Alfred gazed at Michael, the shadows of the setting sun casting a soft glow on his face. His heart ached once again. When will this pain ever go away?


    "Will you stay for dinner?" Alfred asked.


    "Of course! Take a seat, Grandfather. Tonight, I''ll cook for you. It''s a dish I used to enjoy, and I think you''ll like it too."


    With that, Michael hurried outside. He wanted to prepare a French-style braised beef dish he used to cook occasionally in his solitary days. It was a simple recipe: saut¨¦ing vegetables, meat, and bacon before simmering them in wine.


    He retrieved the beef and other ingredients wrapped in parchment from Bucephalos''s saddle and began cooking.


    When Alfred tasted the finished dish, his eyes widened. "This is delicious. I didn''t know you could cook like this."


    "Well, I lived alone for a while, and sometimes I just wanted to treat myself. This was one of those dishes."


    Alfred''s gaze softened as he looked at Michael. "You must have been lonely. Didn''t you ever think of finding someone to share your life with?"


    "Hmm¡­ I had a few blind dates and arranged meetings, but I always ended up stopping partway through. I felt like someone who''d never been loved couldn''t love another or build a family. But now¡­ things feel different."


    Alfred patted the back of Michael''s hand. "That''s right. It''s time to live differently. This is really good. Eat up."


    Under the warm glow of the magical lamp Leonardo had gifted them, the grandfather and grandson shared a pleasant conversation over dinner. The atmosphere was peaceful and comforting.


    Michael held up the saddle, now a familiar piece of equipment for him. Marcus, having grown accustomed to the process, immediately enlarged his body and crouched down to allow the saddle to be strapped on. The servants around them gasped and scurried back, their wide-eyed gazes darting between Michael and Marcus with a mix of awe and fear.


    Michael attached a specially crafted net beneath the saddle. He carefully loaded the wooden boxes into the net, padded them with extra materials to prevent scratches, and pulled the ropes taut to secure them.


    "Um, my lord... Are you sure we won''t fall from the sky wearing this?" one of the squires asked nervously as they helped load the gifts into the net. Their trembling hands fastened their harnesses.


    "Of course. As long as you wear the harness and hold tightly to the handles attached to the saddle, you''ll be fine," Michael assured them calmly.


    Sighing in reluctant acceptance, the squires climbed onto the saddle, their hands shaking as they took their places. The saddle covered nearly half of Marcus''s broad back.


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    Michael, seated at the front where the reins were attached, unfolded a map. He had identified three potential territories where the former residents of Iron Valley might have settled. Deciding to start with the closest one, he set his course for the Chamber Barony.


    Once everyone was seated, Michael gave Marcus a gentle command. "Alright, let''s go. Fly with as much dignity as possible. I''ll direct you as we go¡ªhead west for now."


    Marcus obeyed, soaring gracefully into the sky. For Michael, this was an exceptionally convenient mode of transportation, though the squires behind him, gagging and groaning, would undoubtedly disagree.


    It wasn''t long before the Chamber Castle came into view. As Marcus, with his saddle and passengers, approached the castle, the villagers below screamed and fell to the ground in terror.


    Pleased with the intended effect, Michael leaned forward and said, "Marcus, could you give a roar? It might impress them enough to bring you some jewels."


    Despite Miaomiao''s judgmental stare, Michael remained unbothered. Marcus, flattered by the suggestion, let out a deep, resonating roar.


    "[Grrraaaahhh!]"


    The sound echoed through the air like the ominous rumbling of an impending volcanic eruption. Inside the castle, the Baron of Chamber, who had rushed out upon hearing of the dragon''s approach, clutched his ears and threw himself to the ground in panic.


    "Is the dragon attacking? What''s happening?" the baron exclaimed.


    "...My lord," a steward replied, "it appears the dragon only roared. The rider atop it is asking if they may land in the courtyard."


    "A dragon? Why would a dragon land in my castle?"


    "It''s not just the dragon¡ªit''s a dragon rider."


    Slowly lifting his head, the baron spotted the saddle atop the dragon hovering by the castle walls.


    "I am Michael von Crassus, heir to Viscount Crassus. I''ve come to speak with the lord of this castle, Baron Chamber. May I land in your courtyard?"


    Dusting off his clothes and feigning composure, the baron called out, "Of course! Welcome, esteemed Dragon Knight of the Eighth Order!"


    Michael''s reputation as a dragon rider who had once flown into the capital alongside a sphinx had spread across the kingdom.


    "Steward, show our utmost respect. There''s no harm in forging a friendship with a Dragon Knight," the baron whispered.


    With a grand welcome, Michael was escorted into the baron''s office. The meeting yielded the desired results swiftly. Baron Chamber granted permission for Michael to take as many of the former Iron Valley residents as he wished.


    The process unfolded efficiently. The steward summoned the domain''s manager, who instructed the townsfolk from Iron Valley to gather in the square.


    As they assembled, their anxious gazes flitting nervously, Michael stepped forward and addressed them.


    "I am Michael von Crassus, heir to the new lord of Iron Valley, Viscount Crassus. Are there any miners among you who once worked in Iron Valley?"

 Chapter 85 Reopen The Mines

    A dozen or so individuals hesitated before stepping forward."I plan to reopen the mines. Those who return with me to Iron Valley will be provided with housing based on their family size, farmland to cultivate, and wages for their mining work. Does anyone wish to return home?" sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After a moment of hesitation, one brave soul asked, "My lord, will we be allowed to choose our houses? I don''t want to live in the village near the castle."


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    The others nodded in agreement, confirming what Michael had already suspected based on the old woman''s earlier comments.


    "That can be arranged," Michael replied. "Wages will start at a minimum of three silver a month. Take your time to consider."


    The murmurs in the square grew louder. Three silver coins a month? For comparison, peasants with farmland typically earned between 1.5 to 2 silver coins a month.


    The one who had asked the question stepped forward again. "I''ll go, my lord! But it''ll take some time to bring my family along. When do we need to be ready?"


    His declaration triggered a chorus of eager responses as others clamored to join.


    Even those who weren''t miners but hailed from Iron Valley looked on enviously. Seizing the opportunity, Michael continued, "You don''t need to have mining experience to join. Anyone originally from Iron Valley may register. Simply give your name and mark to my squire. Soldiers will come to collect you later."


    The square erupted into a bustling crowd as people lined up to register. Michael''s squire, Alex, worked diligently to calm the crowd and maintain order.


    Watching Alex, Michael approached Marcus, intending to head to the next territory. However, Marcus seemed deflated.


    "[Michael... Do I lack dignity? The humans didn''t offer any jewels...]"


    Michael patted Marcus reassuringly. "Don''t worry, Marcus. You were plenty dignified. Next time, I''m sure someone will bring jewels."


    With those comforting words, Michael urged Marcus onward.


    The scenes in the other two baronies unfolded similarly. Despite Marcus''s impressive roars, no one brought jewels. As their journey ended and they returned to collect the squires, Marcus''s spirits visibly waned. Even his once-mighty wingbeats lost some of their vigor.


    Upon reaching Crassus Castle, Michael approached the sulking Marcus and handed him a small box.


    "Here, Marcus. This is your reward for all the hard work you''ve done. Open it."


    Marcus''s eyes widened with excitement, and he quickly opened the box. Inside was a finely crafted gold necklace.


    Overjoyed, Marcus picked it up with his claws and licked it to confirm its authenticity. It was real gold. His elation was evident as he admired the gift, while Miaomiao muttered under her breath, "[What a fool...]"


    Michael and Alfred stood in the clearing before the Iron Valley Castle. The gloomy weather cast an even darker aura over the place.


    "Let''s go in. Shall we, Grandfather?"


    Michael took the lead, holding the silver crossbow Leonardo had specially crafted for him. Miaomiao and Marcus perched on his shoulders, and Alfred followed, pulling back the black hood of his cloak as they entered the foreboding castle grounds.


    Crossing the dried-up moat and passing through the still-sturdy castle walls, Michael and Alfred entered the inner courtyard of the castle. Unlike the Crassus estate, the castle walls enclosed only the fortress itself, not a surrounding village.


    A heavy silence lingered in the courtyard. The first structure that caught their attention was a well in the center.


    "They say fingers occasionally emerge from that well. Have you ever heard of such a type of wraith?" Michael asked, moving closer to the well with Alfred.


    The well''s edge was covered in moss, and the structure was built from ancient stone. The water inside was still and clear. Without hesitation, Michael pulled on the rope connected to the pulley, drawing water up from the depths. Fortunately, no fingers emerged.


    "I''ve heard of cases where heavy rains caused underground tombs to flood, washing bones into wells. But fingers? And intact ones at that... That''s a first," Alfred remarked.


    Michael nodded. According to the old woman''s story, the fingers weren''t skeletal but appeared as if they still had flesh attached. He peered into the well, lost in thought.


    "Do you think there''s something wrong with this castle?" Michael asked.


    "It seems likely. Should we head inside to investigate?" Alfred replied, removing his hand from the edge of the well.


    "Yes. If it''s a wraith or something similar, that might actually be better. I can simply absorb it."


    "If only things were always that simple," Alfred said with a faint smile.


    Perched on Michael''s shoulder, Miaomiao interjected, "[Alfred, don''t you think something feels off? I can sense an ominous energy coming from beneath the castle.]"


    Alfred nodded in agreement. "I do. We should head straight to the underground level."


    The group crossed the courtyard, searching for a staircase that would lead to the castle''s underground chambers.


    The old basement was dark and damp, with cobwebs draping the ceiling. Michael lit the magical lamp Leonardo had crafted for him, instantly illuminating the pitch-black surroundings.


    As they descended, the air grew colder and carried a musty scent that prickled their noses. The moment Michael set foot in the underground chamber, he could feel that the place wasn''t ordinary.


    The basement was flooded with water¡ªbut the strange part was how unnaturally clear the water appeared. Despite being stagnant, it was pristine, without a single speck of debris floating in it.


    Faint light shimmered beneath the surface, as though hiding a secret.


    "This water is unusually clear. Was it always like this? Or did it become this way after the castle was abandoned?" Michael asked.


    "Hard to say," Alfred replied.


    Miaomiao pointed to a nearby stone with her paw. "[This castle was built using materials from an ancient temple, if not constructed over the temple itself. Look at that stone.]"


    The stone bore strange inscriptions, unlike anything Michael had ever seen before.


    "[I recognize those ancient characters from old traditions, miao. They refer to the Goddess of Ashes and Fire¡ªone of the ancient deities who disappeared when the Radiance overthrew them 10,000 years ago.]"

 Chapter 86 Disabling The Barrier

    Despite being submerged for millennia, the stones looked pristine, as though time had stopped. The surfaces were smooth and radiant, showing no signs of wear."So, could these stones be the reason the castle''s residents perished?" Michael asked.


    "[Most likely. Living atop a god''s domain rarely ends well for anyone, miao,]" Miaomiao replied grimly.


    "That means, for us to live here, we''d need to remove all these stones. Is that even possible, Grandfather?" Michael asked.


    "It might be easier to tear the castle down and rebuild it," Alfred said, his voice heavy with contemplation as he studied the inscriptions. Find more adventures on My Virtual Library Empire


    Michael shared his grandfather''s sentiments. If that were the case...


    "Miaomiao, do you think you could translate all the writing on these stones?"


    "[I think I can, but it''ll take some time, miao,]" she replied. Leaping off Michael''s shoulder, she dove into the water and swam gracefully, her green eyes glowing as she examined the stones.


    After a while, she surfaced and began to read aloud.


    "[I''ll summarize the important parts, miao. ''Those who tread upon this land without offering worship will incur the wrath of the goddess. Oh, Goddess, vanquish the vile Radiance and return to us. With this plea, we leave the last remnants of the goddess''s power in the lake.'']"


    Michael turned to Alfred, his gaze firm. "This explains why only the nobles died. The servants and villagers would have always been bowing their heads and behaving respectfully."


    "That seems likely," Alfred agreed. "You mentioned there''s a lake nearby, didn''t you?" S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Yes. We need to go there. If I can absorb or eliminate the remnants of the goddess''s power, the castle should be safe."


    "I agree. Let''s head there."


    At that moment, Miaomiao called out, "[Wait! There''s another inscription¡ªit looks like it was added later. It''s carved into a large cornerstone.]"


    Michael turned back. "Read it for us."


    "[It''s also in an ancient script, but it seems more advanced than the earlier one¡ªprobably written around 2,000 years later, miao. It says: ''During the establishment of this outpost, a detachment stationed near the lake was found dead. Their bodies bore no injuries but were covered in a thick layer of dust, exuding an ominous aura. Alarmed, we left immediately. The local tribes say this happens every year around this time. The deceased were found near the lake, with no wounds or signs of disease. This serves as a grim reminder of something sinister in the lake. Therefore, I, General Tiberius, declare this area forbidden and warn all to stay away.'']"


    Michael listened to the warning and fell deep into thought. Dust-covered bodies with no injuries, a goddess of ashes and fire, an ominous energy¡ªhis mind began piecing it all together.


    "A volcanic lake!" Michael exclaimed.


    He recalled stories of volcanic craters that, even thousands of years after an eruption, still released harmful gases and particles that made the area uninhabitable. This would explain the unnaturally clear water¡ªmineral-rich hot spring water must be flowing in from the crater.


    "Grandfather, there might still be a volcanic crater beneath the lake. If the Goddess of Ashes and Fire was once enshrined here, it makes sense that she would be associated with a volcano. The clear water, the dust-covered corpses¡ªit all fits. The goddess''s remaining power must be causing these disasters."


    His heartbeat quickened. If the volcano were to erupt, it could be catastrophic.


    Michael and Alfred hurried out of the basement and climbed onto Marcus''s back.


    "Marcus, as a red dragon, you should be able to sense volcanic activity. Is there a crater beneath the lake?"


    "[Uh... When I was searching for ore, I wasn''t paying attention to that. But if I concentrate, I should be able to tell,]" Marcus replied.


    "Then let''s go quickly. We need to resolve this," Michael urged.


    Spreading his wings, Marcus soared toward the lake. As they circled the area, Marcus suddenly shouted, "[Here it is, Michael! There''s a crater beneath the lake. But there''s something strange¡ªthere are structures near both the lake and the crater.]"


    They had found it.


    The castle builders must have reused parts of an ancient temple that had been exposed over time. While it seemed impossible by conventional wisdom to construct a subterranean temple near a volcanic crater, this was no ordinary world.


    "[Michael, I can sense the presence of a powerful force within the temple. It seems to be suppressing a potential volcanic eruption, miao,]" Miaomiao warned.


    Michael hesitated. Would absorbing this power trigger the volcano? Yet, leaving the temple as it was meant the castle would remain unusable.


    "I''m not sure what we should do, but we should start by examining the temple," Michael suggested.


    Alfred nodded in agreement.


    They discarded their metal equipment and entered the cold water of the lake. Though frigid, it was bearable. Miaomiao and Marcus followed close behind.


    As they descended, a massive barrier surrounding the submerged temple came into view. The structure exuded an otherworldly aura, a blend of mystery and foreboding.


    Miaomiao swam ahead, pressing her paw against the barrier. It responded like a living organism, parting to create an opening.


    "[Deciphering and disabling barriers is a unique ability of sphinxes, miao,]" she explained, noticing Michael''s curious gaze.


    Michael was quietly thrilled at the versatility of her abilities.


    Inside the barrier, the water vanished, replaced by an atmosphere that felt as if they''d stepped into another world. They could breathe and walk as though on dry land.


    The group explored the temple. Massive pillars adorned with intricate patterns towered above them, and ancient inscriptions were etched across the walls.


    "I can sense the remnants of an outer god here," Alfred murmured. "It seems that without worshippers for millennia, the deity has faded, leaving only this fragment of its power behind."


    Michael felt reassured by this. If it was merely the remnants of an outer god''s power, he could absorb it without issue.


    As they ventured deeper into the temple, the walls were lined with murals.


    The first depicted a beautiful woman with four arms wielding fire, commanding volcanoes.


    The subsequent murals grew darker. They showed a war, though the primary combatants were not humans. Giants, known only from legends, were locked in battle with the goddess, whose fiery resistance was vividly portrayed.

 Chapter 87 Absorbing The Divinity Powers

    The scenes became progressively chaotic, showing the goddess fighting against dragons, Radiant angels, demons, and wraiths. Each new enemy grew more numerous and fierce, and the goddess''s expressions turned from determination to despair.The final mural depicted the fallen goddess, her body battered and broken, surrounded by mourning followers prostrated in sorrow.


    "[The murals tell of the downfall of the old gods, miao. The Radiance incited the united races to destroy them, and the Goddess of Ashes and Fire was the last to fall,]" Miaomiao explained.


    Passing the murals, the group pressed deeper into the temple.


    The next sight was gruesome: bodies lay everywhere.


    Some corpses were missing limbs, while others had their fingers severed. Clad in ancient garments, the bodies were so well preserved that they appeared to have just died.


    Michael looked at Alfred in shock. "Could it be...?"


    Alfred nodded solemnly. "Yes, now we know where the fingers from the well came from."


    "[They were sacrifices, miao. The ancient gods demanded human offerings, and the power of this temple was sustained through the sacrificial rituals performed here,]" Miaomiao said, her voice steady but somber.


    Michael recalled the ancient stones from the well. If those stones came from this temple, it was likely parts of these bodies were in the castle''s basement as well.


    Shaking off the horror of the scene, Michael steadied himself. These were events from a long distant past.


    "Once we''re done here, we should give these bodies a proper burial," he said softly.


    They moved further into the temple. The air grew colder, heavy with a chilling energy.


    At the temple''s center, they entered a vast hall.


    A magnificent statue of the goddess stood there, holding a still burning flame in her hands.


    The statue was exquisitely crafted, so lifelike it seemed to breathe. Michael found himself drawn to the flickering flame, unable to look away.


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    Suddenly, a melodic female voice filled the air, seductive and inviting.


    Alfred, too, paused abruptly, seemingly captivated by the sound.


    "Come closer and place your hand into the flame. I will grant you limitless power," the voice promised.


    Michael''s lips twitched in annoyance. Outer gods¡ªthey always tried the same tricks. Unlimited power? If it was so unlimited, why didn''t she free herself instead of enticing humans?


    Feigning hesitation, Michael asked, "Are you the Goddess of Ashes and Fire? How could someone as great as you end up in a place like this?"


    Miaomiao shot him a look, as if to say not this again, but Michael ignored her.


    "This is all the work of the Radiance!" the voice exclaimed, growing more desperate. "They ambushed me and massacred my followers. Release me, and I will make you the greatest being in the world. Quickly!"


    Michael took a step back, feigning fear. "But... won''t releasing you cause the volcano to erupt? As the heir to this land, I can''t take such a risk."


    The voice softened, coaxing. "That''s nothing to worry about. The barrier here stabilizes the volcano''s power and has nothing to do with me. Just free me, and you''ll be safe."


    Michael hesitated theatrically. "There''s another problem. People near the lake have been dying for years. If I don''t understand why¡ª"


    The air in the temple trembled as the voice snapped, "That was me! How could I allow unworthy mortals to settle near my sacred lake? But it doesn''t matter. Become my new priest, and all will be forgiven..."


    Glancing at Miaomiao and Alfred, Michael saw them nod slightly.


    "Is that so? Well, that''s a relief," Michael said nonchalantly.


    Before the voice could finish its plea, Michael stepped forward and placed his hand on the statue.


    "Not there! Put your hand into the flame¡ª"


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    Unleashing his ability, Michael activated a massive force that began absorbing the goddess''s power.


    "No! Stop! This can''t be happening¡ªaaaghhh!"


    Her scream echoed throughout the temple as the statue cracked and began to crumble.


    The immense power that had been sealed within flowed into Michael. He relished the sensation, letting the energy course through him and reveling in his complete control over it.


    Smirking, he looked down at the shattered remains of the statue. Whether she was desperate from her millennia long imprisonment or simply foolish, Michael was glad the goddess''s attempts to manipulate him had failed.


    "One thing the statue got right¡ªit really was harmless," he remarked, looking around cautiously.


    Fearing the possibility of an unexpected twist, Michael scanned the temple. But no calamity came. The temple remained still and serene, save for the destroyed statue.


    Sighing in relief, Michael turned to his companions. "Let''s search the area. This is an ancient temple¡ªthere might be more treasures to uncover."


    As Michael was about to leave the temple, he noticed something sparkling among the crumbled statue debris.


    Carefully brushing the remains aside, his eyes fell on a glowing, red gemstone. The gem was a deep, intense red, as though flames were flickering inside it.


    "[Huh? That''s the Heart of Fire. You''ve found something really valuable. Doesn''t the gem feel hot to the touch? There''s definitely the power of fire within it. What a find!]" Miaomiao exclaimed.


    Michael grasped the gemstone, feeling its warmth, and tried to calm his excitement.


    Lincoln''s grandfather, a baron and an appraiser at the capital''s auction house, had passed on a wealth of knowledge. With that expertise, Michael immediately recognized the gem''s value. It would be incredibly useful for refining high quality iron.


    Feeling Marcus''s greedy gaze, Michael quickly tucked the gemstone into his spatial pouch. Marcus, looking downcast, stuck out his tongue and slumped.


    "Cheer up, Marcus! I''m sure there''s more treasure here. This place, where the goddess once dreamed of resurrection, can''t be without treasure," Michael encouraged.


    At the mention of more treasures, Marcus perked up, eager to move forward. He even tapped his claws on the floor, impatient to hurry.


    "[Let''s go quickly! What if someone else takes the treasure?]"


    "[You fool, there''s no one else here]" Miaomiao growled, swiftly grabbing Marcus to prevent him from running ahead.

 Chapter 88 Lucrecia

    "Take it easy. There might be traps here," Michael cautioned."Yes, Grandfather. It''s better to be cautious," Marcus said, calming down.


    Michael, having just found the Heart of Fire, tried to steady his emotions.


    Since this was an ancient temple, there was no telling what dangers lay ahead. The sight of the bodies in the previous room came to mind¡ªthis temple was one dedicated to a god that demanded human sacrifices. They had to proceed with care.


    As they left the central hall, a long corridor appeared. The atmosphere was dark and oppressive.


    When they reached the end of the hall, a grey mist began to rise. The mist slowly coalesced into a human shape, then shifted to become a woman, her hood pulled low.


    "[At last, you''ve come! The new master of Ashes and Fire, I see.]"


    Michael''s heart began to race. The new master of Ashes and Fire? Was it because he held the Heart of Fire, or had it been the goddess''s power he absorbed? Regardless of the reason, he felt no fear.


    He steadied himself and chose to be bold. "It''s a pleasure. I am Michael von Crassus. Who are you?"


    The woman''s figure responded with deep reverence.


    "[I am a loyal servant, waiting for my master for countless years. I have been bound here, serving ever since. How is the goddess? Is she safe?]"


    Michael paused, recalling the final moments of the statue. He decided to be honest; there was no reason to lie.


    "The goddess passed on her final strength to me before returning to the heavens."


    The woman froze, her words momentarily lost. After a long pause, she smiled sadly.


    "[Ah, the goddess! So noble, even in her final moments. Master, may I ask... will you avenge the goddess? Will you destroy the Radiance?]"


    Michael didn''t hesitate for a second. The vows he had made after witnessing the tragedy at Crowley Manor were still fresh in his mind, the memories weighing heavily on him.


    "I will dedicate everything to destroying the Radiance."


    Building power and increasing his worth was part of that mission. Perhaps there was a bit of personal ambition mixed in, but that didn''t matter.


    The woman bowed deeply. Her movements were graceful and respectful.


    "[Then I will serve you as my master. Welcome, new master of Fire. I am Lucrecia, the goddess''s steward.]"


    "A steward? What kind of storehouse are you guarding?"


    Lucrecia''s red lips curved into a smile.


    "[What would you like? Gold, jewels, weapons and armor, food supplies, cloth, magical materials¡­ We also have training rooms, sleeping quarters, and baths.]"


    Michael exchanged a glance with Alfred.


    Marcus, barely able to contain his excitement, stomped his feet impatiently.


    "Well, I guess we should start with the jewel storehouse."


    Lucrecia smiled again, and the grey mist enveloped the group.


    "[It might make you dizzy, so please close your eyes.]"


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    They all closed their eyes. A slight dizziness overcame them, and it felt as though they were being pulled somewhere. The air shifted, and Lucrecia''s voice spoke once more.


    "[You may open your eyes now.]"


    Anticipation filled Michael''s gaze as he opened his eyes¡ªonly to feel disappointment wash over him.


    In the vast, dark storehouse, there were only a few boxes.


    He frowned as he surveyed the empty shelves.


    "Is this it?"


    He couldn''t hide his disappointment as he asked. Lucrecia laughed nervously, her smile faltering.


    "[There was significant consumption during the last great war, so...]"


    Michael quickly regained his composure. This was still a surprising find¡ªthere was no reason to complain.


    Marcus, snorting in frustration, was practically foaming at the mouth. Miaomiao tapped her paw against the ground, visibly irritated. Alfred showed no interest in the boxes, standing still as though unaffected.


    Michael opened the first box, and his mood immediately brightened.


    Inside were bars of gold, stacked neatly. The gold bars were the size of a finger, and the sight of them filled him with a sense of satisfaction.


    By the size of the box, Michael estimated the value to be around 500,000 gold. This alone would be enough to pour all the current funds in his estate into further development.


    Marcus stared at the gold, his eyes wide with awe. Michael quickly stuffed the box into his spatial pouch, before Marcus could make a move.


    Marcus looked as though he''d just witnessed the saddest thing in the world.


    Michael, feeling buoyed by the gold, opened the second box with excitement.


    Inside was a single necklace¡ªan exquisite pearl necklace. Its size was unlike anything Michael had ever seen. He was mesmerized as he lifted the necklace.


    "Wow¡­ this is beautiful," Miaomiao said, her voice full of awe.


    The necklace was beyond stunning. Each pearl was adorned with platinum and ruby, and the centerpiece was a teardrop-shaped pearl the size of a thumb. The pearls gleamed with a soft, ethereal glow, as if the light within them was coming to life.


    Michael''s resolve firmed. This would become an heirloom, passed down through generations.


    "Does it please you? This pearl necklace can also be transformed into a brooch or a tiara if you prefer," Lucrecia explained.


    Michael''s desire to keep it only grew stronger after hearing that.


    Marcus, with his eyes wide and almost glazed over, was entranced by the necklace.


    Michael tucked the necklace into the spatial pouch along with the box, and then with trembling hands, opened the third box.


    This one was filled with an array of sparkling jewels: sapphires, emeralds, rubies, topaz, diamonds¡ªgems of every kind, each one shimmering brightly.


    Marcus couldn''t hold back anymore. With a determined leap, he pounced on the box, diving into the jewels and wrapping himself in them.


    "[Hey, you idiot! Get out of there! Those are Michael''s!]" Miaomiao yelled, grabbing Marcus by the tail to drag him away. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Calm down, Marcus! Stay still, and I''ll give you ten of the gems you want."


    Marcus, still dazed, stared at them with wide, confused eyes.


    "[S-sorry, ma''am. It''s just instinct¡­]," Marcus stammered, retreating sheepishly.


    Michael pretended not to notice the jewel caught on Marcus''s claw and turned his attention to the last chest. Inside, he found it filled to the brim with white silver¡ªan extremely rare and valuable material.


    A chest like this alone was worth as much as an entire castle. Michael looked up at Lucrecia and asked, "If this is what''s left over, just how much was there in the beginning?"


    "[Our goddess once ruled the world. There were countless chests like these, filling entire storehouses. But those days are long gone,]" Lucrecia said with a bittersweet smile.

 Chapter 89 Training Room

    Michael, reining in his excitement, stored the white silver chest in his spatial pouch. The now empty and pristine storehouse left him with a strange sense of emptiness."[Where would you like to go next?]" Lucrecia asked.


    After a moment''s thought, Michael replied, "Take us to the weapons and armor storehouse."


    "[Very well. Please close your eyes,]" she instructed.


    The weapons and armor storehouse, like the jewel storehouse, was nearly empty.


    Michael''s attention was drawn to a suit of armor in one corner. The lower half of the armor glowed with a fiery red hue that transitioned into a silvery sheen toward the top.


    "[That''s armor made of white silver and meteorite steel. It''s lightweight, durable, and resistant to magical attacks. It also has an adaptive feature, adjusting to the wearer''s body,]" Lucrecia explained.


    Michael reached out to try on the armor, but Lucrecia stepped in his way.


    "[There''s better armor than this. This one is just standard knight armor.]"


    Standard? Michael wondered if the craftsmanship from 10,000 years ago was truly so superior. Even the armor of Zenon, the Radiance Church''s Paladin Commander, couldn''t compare to this.


    "In that case, I''ll take it for the knights of my estate. How many of these are left?"


    "[Twelve sets remain. Shall I prepare them for transport?]"


    "Yes. Load them into my spatial pouch."


    Twelve sets of armor floated into the air and disappeared into Michael''s pouch.


    Lucrecia frowned slightly at the pouch. "[Why are you using such a low-quality spatial pouch? Wouldn''t a spatial ring or earring suit you better?]"


    Michael was caught off guard. Spatial rings and earrings were relics, only passed down through royal families.


    "Do such things still exist? In today''s world, only a handful of spatial rings remain," Michael admitted.


    "[Is that so? How long has it been since the goddess fell asleep?]"


    "Ten thousand years."


    "[Ten thousand years... That explains it. The Radiance worked hard to erase all remnants of wonder from the world,]" Lucrecia said with a sigh. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Her words made Michael think back to the Radiance Church''s doctrine. Even in a time when the Radiance''s kingdom housed magical towers, fundamentalists still opposed magic.


    "[I was once a shaman from the Pamir Plateau tribes. The Radiance''s dogs accused me of deceiving people with my magic. They gouged out my eyes, severed my limbs, and impaled me before burning me alive. The goddess saved me,]" Lucrecia explained, slowly lifting her head.


    Where her eyes should have been were empty sockets. Her hands and feet were missing as well. The sight made Michael''s stomach churn.


    "[But it''s fine now. I exist only as a spirit, and I''m grateful to the goddess for giving me a purpose,]" she said softly.


    "Her husband was the god of blacksmiths. One of his last masterpieces remains. Do you have a particular weapon or armor in mind?"


    As she spoke, a red aura began forming in the air.


    Michael considered what he needed most. "I need a bow and arrows. Archery is my specialty, but I don''t have a bow that can handle all my strength."


    "[Visualize its form. Whatever you desire will take shape,]" Lucrecia instructed.


    Michael imagined a bow that could transform into an accessory when not in use and arrows that regenerated automatically upon being fired.


    As his thoughts solidified, the red aura began to take form. The energy coalesced into a crimson bow and floated toward Michael.


    "[Draw the bowstring,]" Lucrecia urged.


    Michael raised the glowing red bow. Its smooth surface seemed to ripple with the intensity of fire, and intricate flame-like patterns adorned its frame.


    The bow felt perfectly balanced in his hands¡ªlight yet substantial. When he pulled the string, an arrow matching the bow''s color materialized, its tip flickering with a small flame.


    "Can the bow''s strength and range be adjusted?" Michael asked.


    "[As long as your mana permits, the power and range are limitless,]" Lucrecia assured him.


    Satisfied, Michael lowered the bow. It transformed into a bracelet, wrapping snugly around his wrist.


    Marcus stared at the flame-inscribed bracelet, awestruck. To console him, Michael took out a gemstone from his pouch and handed it to the dragon. Marcus sniffed the gem, then purred contentedly.


    "What about that armor you mentioned earlier? Is it also made by the blacksmith god?" Michael asked.


    Lucrecia summoned a suit of black armor, floating it before Michael.


    "[While it''s not as exceptional as your new weapon, this armor is another of the blacksmith god''s creations. It is highly durable, offers magical protection, and increases its defensive capabilities based on the wearer''s mana,]" she explained.


    Michael accepted the armor. Made entirely of black metal, it was a masterpiece, closer to art than equipment.


    "How do I put it on?" he asked.


    "[Wear this bracelet and speak the activation word. It will equip itself,]" Lucrecia said, handing him a bracelet adorned with obsidian.


    Grumbling about collecting bracelets, Michael put it on. The obsidian glowed faintly.


    "Press the obsidian and choose an activation word. It''s never been worn, so you can decide," Lucrecia added.


    After a moment''s thought, Michael pressed the stone and declared, "Armor!"


    The straightforward command made Lucrecia pause. "[...Well, at least it''s unforgettable.]"


    The armor adjusted itself perfectly to Michael''s body. It was so light he almost forgot he was wearing it.


    "Add any remaining weapons or armor to the pouch," Michael instructed.


    Lucrecia gestured, and various weapons and pieces of armor floated into the air¡ªgleaming swords, sturdy shields, and intricately crafted helmets. In total, about thirty items hovered before him.


    With the armor he''d already gathered, Michael was confident he could equip a large number of knights.


    "[Where to next?]" Lucrecia asked.


    "Food supplies, magical materials, and fabrics are what''s left, right? Just collect everything¡ªyou''ll know better than me what''s valuable."


    "[There are also spatial rings and earrings available. Shall I store everything in those?]"


    Michael''s eyes lit up. "Yes, please!"


    "You mentioned a training room earlier. I''d like to test the bow and armor there," Michael added.


    As Lucrecia summoned grey mist, a grand bronze door materialized. Its surface was adorned with ancient carvings, radiating an air of mystery.


    "[Be cautious. The training room will generate opponents matching your abilities. If you feel overwhelmed, shout ''enough,'' and it will stop,]" Lucrecia warned.


    The others opted to rest in the bedrooms they''d been assigned. After bidding them farewell, Michael stepped boldly through the bronze doors.


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    Inside, a vast training arena unfolded. The domed ceiling stretched high above, and the space was imbued with a strange, electric energy.


    With his bow in hand and armor equipped, Michael strode to the center of the arena. This was the perfect chance to test his newfound power.

 Chapter 90 One Shooting A Dark Elf

    Stepping into the training grounds, Michael slowly surveyed his surroundings. The dome-shaped ceiling was gone, replaced by what seemed like untouched nature. A vast blue sky stretched overhead, where birds chirped and flitted through the air.Beneath his feet, he no longer felt the cold, hard stone of the floor but the soft, natural give of earth.


    An illusion? he wondered, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight.


    As he observed the serene scene, a man clad in armor began approaching him.


    Michael, sensing potential danger, instinctively tensed and fixed his gaze on the stranger. But the armored man greeted him warmly.


    "Hey! It''s been ages since I''ve seen another person. Are you the new paladin?"


    The man removed his helmet, revealing golden hair that shimmered in the sunlight. His cheerful smile radiated a genuine friendliness.


    However, the moment his eyes met Michael''s, the man''s expression changed. Composing himself, he placed a hand over his chest and knelt on one knee. Bowing his head, he spoke with reverence.


    "Forgive my rudeness, O new Master of Fire. I am Alexander, a soul bound to this training ground by the will of the goddess. What brings you here?"


    Michael motioned for him to rise. Having picked up on clues from the knight''s words, Michael quickly steadied his thoughts and played along.


    "Treat me as you would any other knight here. I''m merely here to train. Are you, like Lucrecia, bound to this place?"


    Alexander nodded, his expression clouded by sorrow and regret.


    "That is correct, my lord. I am Alexander Furbles, the first commander of the Radiance''s Holy Knights. I once served the vile Radiance but came to my senses after meeting the goddess. For my betrayal, I was sentenced to be burned alive by the Radiance''s hounds. The goddess saved my wretched soul and allowed me to remain here."


    After taking a moment to compose himself, Alexander turned to Michael and asked, "My lord, what kind of training do you desire?"


    Michael studied Alexander in silence, a mix of emotions swirling within him. Sadness, empathy, and curiosity. How had the Radiance''s first knight commander ended up bound to this place?


    "I''ve recently acquired some new techniques," Michael finally said. "I''d like training that will help me maximize their potential."


    Alexander nodded. "To tailor your training, I''ll first need to assess your skills. What is your weapon of choice?" S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael silently raised his bow.


    "A bow! And quite an extraordinary one at that," Alexander remarked with admiration. "I have just the challenge in mind. Would you care to hit every bird in flight?"


    Raising his hand, Alexander summoned a flock of birds from the distant forest. They soared into the sky, countless in number, varying in size, and moving in erratic, unpredictable patterns.


    Michael observed the birds'' movements for a moment. Not too difficult.


    Taking a deep breath, he slowly drew his bowstring. His first arrow pierced the heart of the highest bird.


    Almost instantly, a second arrow followed, curving gracefully to strike two birds at once.


    Alexander watched in amazement. The fluidity of Michael''s movements and the precision of his arrows made it seem as if the arrows guided themselves.


    With each shot, the birds burst into flames and disappeared. It was a testament to the countless hours Michael had spent honing his archery skills.


    He continued firing arrow after arrow, each one finding its target without fail.


    "...Did you just hit all of them? How is that even possible?" Alexander asked, unable to hide his astonishment.


    Michael lowered his bow and smiled. "You said to hit them all, didn''t you?"


    "Incredible¡­ You are a natural marksman," Alexander said, his eyes shining with admiration. Collecting himself, he continued, "Would you now like to spar against another archer? This opponent specializes in stealth and will prove quite challenging."


    "I''m open to any opponent. I want to gauge my current abilities and continue improving," Michael replied confidently.


    Alexander gave a silent gesture, and a figure materialized from thin air.


    A tall woman with dark skin and long, pointed ears stepped forward. Her body was adorned with intricate tattoos, and she moved with an eerie silence.


    Is that¡­ a dark elf? Michael wondered, intrigued.


    The woman carried a sleek, black bow and walked with the quiet grace of a shadow.


    "This is a dark elf, an ancient race long extinct. In this training ground, anything can be summoned. She is a perfect replica of a real individual and will test your skills thoroughly. Let''s begin!" Alexander announced.


    Clapping his hands, he sent the dark elf sprinting toward the forest.


    Her movements were cat-like¡ªswift, fluid, and silent. In an instant, she vanished from sight.


    Michael didn''t hesitate. He moved quickly, melding into the shadows of the training ground''s structures. If she''s using stealth, I''ll counter with stealth as well.


    He scanned his surroundings sharply, missing nothing, not even the smallest flicker of movement.


    As he emerged from the shadows into the forest, Michael spotted her.


    The dark elf crouched among the trees, her eyes cold and predatory as she aimed her bow like a hunter stalking prey.


    But who was the true hunter?


    Locating her position, Michael held his breath and waited.


    Finally, he saw an opening. Raising his bow, he drew the string back slowly, his focus razor-sharp.


    The faint sound of the string being drawn seemed to alert the dark elf. She began to dodge, but it was too late.


    Michael''s arrow flew true, striking her square in the waist.


    "Argh¡­" she groaned, clutching her side as she stumbled.


    The fatal wound caused her to convulse. Moments later, her form began to dissolve into flames.


    As Michael approached, the last flicker of fire consumed her, leaving no trace behind.


    Watching from outside the forest, Alexander was visibly stunned.


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    "So quickly¡­?"


    Shaking his head in disbelief, Alexander walked over to Michael, his expression a mixture of awe and respect.


    "My lord, your skill is unbelievable. She was the pride of the dark elves, a master of stealth. Yet you defeated her so swiftly."


    Michael shrugged nonchalantly, lowering his bow. His breathing remained steady, and there wasn''t a single bead of sweat on his brow.

 Chapter 91 A Sky Knight? Whats that?

    "Constant practice has its rewards. According to Lucrecia, this training ground adjusts opponents based on my level. Who''s my next challenge?" Michael asked, his composure unshaken.Alexander nodded, though his amazement lingered. "Indeed. However, it''s difficult to gauge your true level. Officially, you rank as an eighth-class knight, but your actual skills far exceed that. With your archery and stealth abilities, you could defeat opponents several levels above you."


    Michael''s lips curled into a faint smile. "Let''s see how much further I can go."


    "Could you summon random opponents for me? I want to test my limits," Michael asked.


    Alexander nodded and gestured toward the dark corners of the forest. Black silhouettes began to rise, their forms coalescing into masked figures.


    "Very well. Then let us begin! You''ll need to use every skill at your disposal," Alexander said, his tone laced with challenge.


    Michael gripped his bow tightly, his eyes scanning the area with sharp precision. The first thing he did was count his enemies: thirty-eight in total.


    As the masked figures charged toward him, Michael swiftly melted into the shadows nearby.


    The masked enemies hesitated, disoriented by the sudden disappearance of their target. Then, from above, Michael emerged silently on a tree branch.


    He spotted his first target and, without hesitation, released an arrow. The arrow pierced the lead enemy''s head, turning him into ash.


    When the remaining enemies began moving toward the direction of the attack, Michael disappeared into the shadows again.


    Moving with ghost-like precision, he began systematically eliminating the masked figures one by one.


    Despite their efforts to locate him, Michael always managed to stay one step ahead. His movements were silent and fluid, like a natural-born assassin.


    As chaos spread among the enemies, Michael moved between trees and shadows, picking them off with a relentless efficiency.


    The third, fourth, and fifth enemies fell in rapid succession, each dissolving into ash as Michael''s arrows struck their marks.


    With each takedown, his movements grew faster, and his precision became deadlier.


    Eventually, only one masked figure remained.


    From his perch in the trees, Michael aimed his bow at the final target.


    The arrow flew true, piercing the figure''s heart. With a scream of pain, the last enemy crumbled into ash, leaving the battlefield silent.


    Michael emerged from the forest, heading toward the training grounds. Alexander was there, clapping with genuine admiration.


    "As expected, remarkable work, my lord. Now, may I have the honor of facing you myself?" Alexander asked, his eyes alight with a competitive gleam.


    Michael hesitated for a moment. Alexander, the first commander of the Radiance''s Holy Knights, personally stepping in as his opponent?


    Making up his mind, Michael drew his sword. "Let''s start with swords, then. Come at me!"


    Alexander nodded and unsheathed his own blade, his presence exuding the poise and power of a seasoned knight.


    The two warriors slowly closed the distance between them, their eyes locked, the tension in the air palpable.


    Alexander moved first, charging forward with a loud battle cry. His sword slashed through the air with speed and precision.


    Michael reacted instantly, raising his blade to block the strike.


    The clash of steel echoed across the training grounds as Alexander launched a series of rapid attacks. Your next chapter awaits on My Virtual Library Empire


    His strikes were sharp and precise, the product of years of refined technique. Michael, meanwhile, relied on his quick reflexes and raw power to parry and counter.


    Alexander''s attacks were masterful, his movements a display of disciplined skill. Michael''s style, in contrast, was unorthodox¡ªaggressive and unpredictable, favoring brute strength over finesse.


    Spotting an opening, Michael lowered his stance and aimed for Alexander''s side. His blade nearly broke through Alexander''s guard, but the knight quickly spun away, evading the strike.


    The two warriors stepped back, resetting their positions.


    "You have incredible strength and reflexes, my lord. But your technique needs refinement," Alexander commented with a smirk before resuming his offensive.


    As Alexander lunged forward again, Michael vanished into the shadows.


    The seasoned knight paused, scanning his surroundings with caution. He knew Michael was hiding, but pinpointing his exact location was another matter.


    After a brief moment of stillness, Alexander''s eyes widened in realization. He spun around just as Michael emerged from his shadow, bow in hand.


    Michael fired an arrow, but Alexander''s reflexes kicked in. He deflected the shot with his sword, sending sparks flying.


    Smiling confidently, Alexander relaxed for a split second¡ªonly to feel the cold edge of Michael''s blade against his neck.


    "You let your guard down. I win," Michael declared, his voice calm and assured.


    A bead of sweat trickled down Alexander''s brow, but his competitive spirit remained unshaken.


    "It''s been far too long since I''ve dueled. If I''d shown my full strength, the outcome might''ve been different," he said with a sheepish grin.


    Michael chuckled. "I haven''t fully utilized my armor or bow''s abilities either."


    Acknowledging his mistake, Alexander lowered his head. "I was too overconfident. Forgive my excuses. Shall we continue your training?" S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Of course. I want to test the limits of my new bow and armor," Michael replied.


    "I was a third-class knight during my lifetime. My current strength matches that of a seventh-class knight, calibrated to your level. Would you like to face me at my peak?"


    Michael couldn''t hide his surprise. As expected of the first commander of the Radiance''s Holy Knights.


    "A third-class knight... That''s a level surpassed by only two people on the entire continent today. I''ve never even heard of anyone beyond that," Michael remarked.


    Alexander raised an eyebrow. "Only two? The world has grown soft, it seems. In my time, there were more than ten third-class knights, and the strongest among us was the Sky Knight."


    "The Sky Knight? What''s that?"


    Alexander sighed, shaking his head. "How much has been forgotten over the ages? Once a knight surpasses first-class, they reach a new realm. Beyond first-class is the rank of Earth Knight, capable of splitting mountains and carving through the earth. Beyond the Earth Knight is the Sky Knight, one who can fly with their own power. Have you never heard of them?"

 Chapter 92 Teach Me

    Michael fell silent, deep in thought."No, I was merely the heir of a baron until recently. My family''s knowledge is limited, and even the great noble houses wouldn''t hide something like this. It seems this knowledge has been lost entirely."


    Alexander''s expression turned somber. "The legacy of true strength has vanished. To ascend to higher realms, one must cultivate the power of life itself. But the Radiance always opposed human advancement."


    "The power of life?" Michael asked, intrigued. "Is that another term for aura? I''ve already awakened mine."


    "Show me," Alexander requested.


    Michael concentrated, channeling his aura into his blade. A faint red glow began at the tip of the sword, gradually spreading along its length.


    "That''s aura, yes, but it''s far too weak. Have you not learned a proper sword path?" Alexander inquired.


    "No, my training has only covered inherited execution techniques. I''ve never studied a sword path," Michael admitted.


    "Perfect. Without a proper sword path, advancing is nearly impossible. Would you like to learn from me?"


    Michael hesitated. "But weren''t you a holy knight of the Radiance? If I use their techniques, I''ll end up being hunted."


    Alexander laughed. "I was also a prince of the East Kingdom. Naturally, I learned the royal sword path. By the way, is the East Kingdom still standing?"


    "No, I''ve never heard of it. I''m sorry," Michael replied.


    "Good riddance. There was no love lost for the royal family¡ªit was more corrupt than even the Radiance," Alexander said dismissively. Enjoy new chapters from My Virtual Library Empire


    Caught off guard by his bluntness, Michael was unsure how to respond.


    "So, will you inherit my legacy? It would be an honor to pass it on properly," Alexander said, his fiery gaze locking onto Michael as he firmly clasped his hand.


    Why does this feel... ominous? Michael thought.


    Michael hesitated at Alexander''s sudden proposal.


    "Well, I''d be happy to learn, but I don''t exactly have much time right now," he admitted.


    Alexander''s eyes gleamed with enthusiasm as he grasped Michael''s hand.


    "Time is not an issue here, my lord. This training ground was designed during the Final War to produce as many holy knights as possible. Here, ten days pass as only an hour in the outside world. The only drawback is that each person can only use this space once every three years."


    "Is that so?" Michael murmured, his hesitation fading. This could be a golden opportunity. After a brief moment of thought, he nodded firmly.


    "Then I''ll be in your care. But you mentioned the ''power of life'' earlier¡ªdoes that refer to aura?"


    Alexander''s expression grew serious as he explained.


    "Upon examining your aura flow, I noticed something unusual. During my time, knights etched mana holes across their entire bodies to channel power. But you seem to concentrate everything around your heart."


    Michael frowned thoughtfully. "That''s odd. I''m sure I''m not doing anything different from others."


    "That suggests the original method has been lost," Alexander concluded grimly. "The Radiance must have deliberately tampered with the process."


    After a pause, he sighed deeply. "Channeling aura solely through the heart is a simplified approach. It''s not ideal for anyone pursuing the path of a true knight."


    Michael''s voice carried a mixture of curiosity and anger as he asked, "What exactly is the Radiance? Why did it suppress power so aggressively?"


    Alexander lowered his gaze. "Even as the first commander of the Radiance''s Holy Knights, I didn''t know all their secrets. I only knew their goal was to eradicate all forms of mystery and power from the world."


    The room fell silent. Michael''s expression darkened.


    "No magic, no rituals, no knightly arts¡­ Is that the kind of world they wanted?"


    Alexander nodded solemnly. "First, they sought to eliminate the gods. Then came the other races, followed by mages and shamans. Their ultimate goal was a world devoid of all mystery. Tragically, many followed the Radiance without realizing its true intentions."


    Michael froze as he processed this revelation. His mind flickered to his ability to absorb powers¡ªwas this related somehow? Shaking off the thought, he refocused on the matter at hand.


    "Are you saying the Radiance left behind only degraded methods of aura training?"


    "Precisely," Alexander confirmed.


    A spark ignited in Michael''s eyes. "That means¡­"


    A surge of realization coursed through him. If Alexander''s words were true, he might be the only person alive with access to proper aura techniques.


    "Teach me immediately," Michael demanded, his determination unwavering.


    Recognizing Michael''s resolve, Alexander nodded. "First, we need to erase the flawed pathways etched into your body. It will be painful. Let me know when you''re ready."


    Michael didn''t hesitate. "I''m ready."


    Alexander guided Michael to sit cross-legged, ensuring his posture was straight. Michael braced himself for the pain to come.


    The process was excruciating. Beads of sweat formed on Michael''s brow as his breathing grew labored, but he endured the ordeal without so much as a groan. His unwavering focus and sheer willpower saw him through.


    When the procedure was finally complete, Michael''s face was pale, his body drenched in sweat.


    "I must say, I''m impressed, my lord. That was no easy feat," Alexander remarked, genuine admiration evident in his voice.


    "Is it done? What''s next?" Michael asked, his voice steady despite his exhaustion.


    "You''ll need to learn a new sword path. For most, it takes about a year to master using mana holes throughout the body," Alexander explained.


    "A year? So only about two days in the outside world¡­ I''d better inform my companions. They''re waiting for me," Michael noted. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Alexander nodded. "I''ll relay the message through Lucrecia. She''s not particularly fond of me contacting her, but these are special circumstances."


    Michael raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Why doesn''t she like it? Did you get rejected or something?"


    Alexander''s expression turned sullen, confirming Michael''s guess.


    Ah¡­ He was rejected, Michael thought, awkwardly patting Alexander on the shoulder.


    "Well¡­ that''s all in the past now," Alexander muttered with a forced smile before regaining his composure. "Your message has been sent. Shall we begin?"

 Chapter 93 Altar

    What followed was grueling.Each day, Michael was pushed to his limits. The training involved unlearning old habits, refining his swordsmanship, and adjusting his aura pathways. By the end of each session, he would collapse from exhaustion.


    Alexander showed no mercy. Every day brought new challenges and pain, but Michael gritted his teeth and persevered.


    After six months of intense training, Michael collapsed onto the ground, panting heavily. His body was drenched in sweat, his muscles trembling from strain.


    Seeing that the training was complete, Alexander approached and offered his hand.


    "It has been an honor to train you, my lord. You''ve accomplished in six months what most would take a year to achieve. Your talent is truly remarkable," Alexander said, his blue eyes glinting with pride.


    Michael took his hand, a smile tugging at his lips.


    "It''s been an honor learning from you, Alexander."


    Thanks to the training, Michael''s aura no longer concentrated solely around his heart¡ªit now flowed seamlessly through his entire body. He felt stronger, more in control than ever before. The aura, once requiring focused effort to summon, now came as naturally as breathing.


    Michael knew this technique would turn the world upside down if it became widely known.


    Alexander, sensing Michael''s thoughts, spoke solemnly. "I have one request. Please promise me that the techniques I''ve taught you remain within your family. You are my final and greatest student, my lord."


    Placing a hand over his chest, Michael bowed deeply. "I, Michael von Crassus, swear to carry your legacy as your sole successor."


    Tears welled in Alexander''s eyes. "Such an honor¡­ Thank you, my lord. If you ever have children, bring them here. I''ll ensure your lineage carries this legacy forward."


    Michael nodded, gratitude evident in his expression. "Thank you, Alexander. I''ll never forget this debt. But must you remain bound here forever?"


    Alexander''s wistful smile hinted at a deeper sorrow. S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Bound by his contract with the goddess, Alexander sighed resignedly.


    "I have no choice but to follow the goddess''s will. Unless the gods descend again, I am tied to this place," he explained.


    Michael placed a reassuring hand on Alexander''s shoulder before pulling him into a firm embrace.


    "I can''t promise to visit often, but I''ll make sure to drop by when I can. And when I do, you''ll have to spar with me."


    His hug radiated warmth and solace, and Alexander hesitated briefly before awkwardly patting Michael''s back.


    "...Of course, my lord. It would be my honor," Alexander replied, his voice tinged with emotion.


    As they released each other, Michael took a step back, locking eyes with Alexander. The shared understanding and camaraderie built over six months of grueling training passed silently between them.


    Turning toward the exit of the training ground, Michael began walking away. Alexander stood silently, watching Michael''s retreating figure for a long moment.


    "My new lord¡­ may you remain strong and victorious always," he murmured to himself.


    Emerging from the training ground, Michael was greeted by Lucrecia''s familiar voice and welcoming smile.


    "Welcome back, my lord. Was your training fruitful?"


    "It was more than fruitful," Michael replied with a satisfied nod. "Where are the others?"


    "They are resting, my lord. Would you like me to summon them?"


    "That would be helpful, thank you."


    With a slight tilt of her head, Lucrecia sent gray mist billowing outward. Before long, the mist began to dissipate, revealing Michael''s companions one by one.


    [Michael! You''re finally back! This place is amazing!] Miaomiao exclaimed, her tail flicking excitedly. [The hot springs made my fur so soft! You have to feel it!]


    She brushed her tail against Michael''s leg, and he picked her up, stroking her back with a smile. Miaomiao purred contentedly until her eyes locked onto Marcus.


    [Hiss! What are you staring at?]


    [Nothing, nothing, sister¡­ You''re just treated so differently than me...] Marcus muttered, his crest drooping in dejection.


    Their squabbling was interrupted by Alfred''s arrival. Refreshed and relaxed, he gave Michael an approving look.


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    "Back already? I see you''ve accomplished much," Alfred observed.


    "Yes, though I can''t share all the details, I''ve gained something invaluable," Michael replied with a meaningful smile.


    "That''s all that matters. Let''s head back, then."


    After exchanging farewells with Lucrecia, the group prepared to depart.


    "Thank you for everything, Lucrecia. You''re bound to this place as well, aren''t you?" Michael asked.


    Lucrecia''s serene smile returned. "Yes, my lord. Like Alexander, I am tied here by my contract with the goddess."


    "What will you do now that the storerooms are empty?"


    "I will simply remain here. I can sleep in mist form when there''s nothing to tend to, so please do not worry about me."


    Michael placed a comforting hand on her slender shoulder and drew her into an embrace. Despite her missing limbs, she felt no different from any other person.


    "Take care, Lucrecia. I''ll visit when I can."


    Her radiant smile, free of its usual melancholy, lit up her face.


    "I will await your return, my lord."


    Michael turned toward his companions, ready to leave, but Lucrecia called out to him.


    "One moment, my lord. Your journey here was guided by the temple''s cornerstone, correct? That cornerstone is part of a paired offering altar," she explained.


    Michael looked back at her, intrigued.


    "The paired altars were used to transport offerings to the goddess. Originally, both were on the surface, but it seems one was repurposed for the castle."


    Lucrecia extended a tendril of mist toward the central hall.


    "The other altar lies there. Even in our time, it was considered ancient and relied on the power of the volcano below. You can use it to travel to the other altar''s location."


    Michael''s eyes lit up.


    If the altar connected the castle and the temple, it could serve as a critical evacuation route for his family and people in times of crisis.


    "We won''t become sacrifices using this thing, will we?" Michael asked, half-joking.


    Lucrecia''s tone turned defensive. "Not at all, my lord. While you trained, I altered its function to ensure your safety. However, the altar still requires the spiritual energy of the deceased offerings to activate¡ªonly for the first use, of course."

 Chapter 94 Visits

    Her explanation came hurriedly, as if bracing for accusations."The souls have already ascended, so there''s no harm done," she added quickly.


    "And afterward?" Michael asked. "We won''t need souls to keep it running, will we?"


    "Not at all. Once the initial energy is expended, you''ll be able to power it using mana stones," Lucrecia assured him.


    "Good. What do I need to do?"


    "First, gather the remains from the other altar and bring them here. Once the offerings are in place, I''ll activate the magic circle." Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael and Alfred returned to the previous chamber and carefully collected the remains, along with their ancient garments and ornaments. The items might fetch a good price at the black market.


    Marcus grumbled about his role as a makeshift cart but perked up when Michael offered him a few gems, his tail wagging with newfound enthusiasm.


    "Let''s get this over with!" Marcus exclaimed.


    The remains were piled before Lucrecia, and the group moved to the central hall. Lucrecia stretched her mist toward the altar, chanting in an ancient tongue.


    "¦Ê¦Á¦Ë?¦Ò?? ¦Ó?? ?¦Ñ¦Ö¦Á?¦Á? ¦Ä¦Ô¦Í?¦Ì¦Å¦É?!"


    As a familiar pulling sensation enveloped them, the group found themselves standing in a dry, cold underground chamber. The water was gone, leaving the floor pristine and dry.


    [Wow¡­ This is incredible,] Miaomiao said, her eyes glimmering. [Even the imperial palace wouldn''t have magic circles like this. They say it can transport dozens of people at once!]


    "It could prove invaluable in a war," Alfred noted.


    Michael nodded. "Yes, it''s a perfect hideout."


    Taking the lead, Michael climbed the stairs to the surface.


    "Let''s inspect the castle''s structure and figure out what repairs are needed. At least we don''t have to worry about any more curses."


    The inspection didn''t take long. By nightfall, Michael and his group returned to the castle, only to find Dominic waiting with a grim expression.


    "There are signs of war brewing," Dominic announced urgently. "Mages and knights from the capital have arrived. We need to convene in the war room immediately."


    Michael and Dominic strode purposefully through the castle''s grand corridor, their conversation low but urgent.


    "Wizards and knights from the capital, you said? They''re the ones claiming war is on the horizon?" Michael asked, his brow furrowed.


    Dominic nodded, pushing open the door at the end of the corridor to reveal a passage leading to the reception hall.


    "Yes. There were no signs when they first set out, but along the way, news kept arriving¡ªhints of unrest, supply stockpiling, and most alarmingly, the empire''s ambassador has returned home. It''s not official yet, but the pieces are falling into place."


    Michael''s gaze hardened as he followed his father through the candle lit hallway.


    "If that''s the case, we need to expedite the relocation plans. Are all the key figures already in the meeting room? And where are the rest of the visitors staying?"


    Dominic sighed heavily, his exhaustion seeping into his voice.


    "We''re overrun with entourages. The knights'' retainers have set up tents in the training yard, while the wizards are staying in village inns or requisitioned houses."


    "Well done," Michael replied, nodding. "No sense housing them together¡ªthey''d only end up at each other''s throats."


    The two continued walking through the long passage adorned with portraits of family ancestors. Dominic glanced wistfully at the paintings, his voice tinged with melancholy.


    "It''s hard to leave a place so familiar, but with my title rising and the territory expanding, our forebears would surely understand."


    After a moment of quiet reflection, he spoke with renewed energy.


    "By the way, the heads of both groups are eager to see the sphinx and the dragon. They''ve been clamoring about it all day."


    Michael interrupted firmly.


    "We don''t need to cater to their every whim, Father. We must maintain the upper hand here."


    Dominic''s expression shifted, momentarily tinged with regret.


    "You''re right, of course. I acted hastily¡ªhaving so many important people descend on us at once caught me off guard."


    Michael placed a reassuring hand on his father''s shoulder.


    "Anyone would have been overwhelmed in your place. Just remember: we''re the ones in a position to grant favors, not them."


    Dominic straightened his posture, drawing confidence from his son''s steady tone.


    "Understood. I''ll see to it they wait for us in the audience chamber."


    "Good. Keep up the air of authority," Michael advised, watching as his father walked away, his confidence visibly restored.


    Once Dominic had gone, Alfred approached Michael, his footsteps slow and deliberate.


    "Grandfather, you should rest. The maids will show you to the guest quarters where Uncle Godric and Aunt Sophia are staying."


    "They''ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival, and I''m sure you''d enjoy catching up," Michael added with a small smile.


    Alfred inclined his head. "Very well. I''ll go now. But take care, Michael¡ªdon''t overwork yourself."


    His voice was laden with genuine concern as he departed.


    Left alone for the moment, Michael sank into the sofa, letting its plush comfort soothe his weary body. The faint scent of lavender filled the room, a small luxury that helped ease his fatigue.


    Soon, Elizabeth entered, her golden hair gleaming in the soft light.


    "You''re back," she greeted warmly. "How was the castle? What''s its condition?"


    "It''s in surprisingly good shape, Sister," Michael replied, sitting up straighter. "The scale is immense¡ªabout four times larger than this one. It has plenty of guest rooms and separate annexes for additional accommodations."


    Elizabeth''s shoulders visibly relaxed, a relieved smile spreading across her face.


    "That''s excellent news. I was worried about budgeting for extensive repairs, but it sounds like that won''t be necessary." She tilted her head curiously. "Did you manage to draw up the plans?"


    "Yes. Leonardo gave me a measuring tool that sped up the process considerably. The floor plans and measurements are all here."


    Michael retrieved the plans from his dimensional pouch and handed them over. Elizabeth examined the detailed drawings, her eyes widening in admiration.


    "Where does he even come up with these inventions? That man must be a genius," she remarked. "You were fortunate to bring him into the family¡ªhe must have cost you dearly."

 Chapter 95 Hook, Line, and Sinker!

    Michael shook his head modestly. "He''s family now. Helping each other is only natural."Elizabeth''s smile wavered, and a shadow passed over her features.


    "Not every family works that way, Michael," she murmured, her voice carrying a trace of bitterness.


    Michael fell silent, sensing the weight of unspoken memories.


    Elizabeth recovered quickly, brightening as she redirected the conversation.


    "Anyway, let me know if you have any special requests for your quarters at the new castle."


    "Actually, I''d like two extra rooms attached to my suite¡ªfor Miaomiao and Isper to use."


    Elizabeth chuckled. "Of course. A main bedroom with an adjoining sitting room, two guest bedrooms, and a dressing room should suffice, don''t you think?"


    "That would be perfect. Thank you, Sister," Michael replied with a grateful nod.


    She smiled, pleased to fulfill her brother''s request.


    "What about Marcus''s lair? Should we move the existing one or build a new one?"


    "The current lair should do, but it needs to be moved in his presence¡ªhe''s very possessive about his things," Michael warned.


    Elizabeth laughed softly, brushing her golden locks back with a graceful motion.


    "A dragon''s nature, I suppose. Though I must admit, even my hair isn''t safe from his covetous gaze," she teased, her tone light.


    Michael chuckled, standing as Elizabeth prepared to leave.


    "Shall I have some light refreshments sent in?" she offered.


    "That would be wonderful. Thank you, Sister."


    Elizabeth nodded, gliding out of the room with a poise that reminded Michael just how fortunate he was to have her.


    Left alone once more, he began organizing his thoughts, mentally reviewing the tasks that lay ahead.


    The arrival of the capital''s mages had been perfectly timed; he could assign them to oversee repairs in the village. It wasn''t the work they were accustomed to, but they''d have to make do.


    A while later, a well-rested Miaomiao and Marcus entered the reception room, both looking refreshed and prepared. Michael stood, having just finished the sandwiches and tea brought in by the maids.


    The timing was perfect¡ªit was finally time to make their entrance.


    Following Michael''s instructions, Miaomiao and Marcus had dressed to impress. Whatever awaited them in the audience chamber, Michael was ready to take control of the situation.


    Marcus stood proudly adorned with sparkling jewels on each claw, his golden reins catching the light like a parade of wealth. While Marcus basked in the splendor of his flamboyant attire, Miaomiao''s mood was far less cheerful. She wore an emerald circlet on her forehead and looked utterly displeased.


    "Come on, Miaomiao, don''t scowl like that. It suits you perfectly!" Michael chuckled, finding her grumpy expression utterly endearing.


    [Exactly, Sister! If you don''t like it, give it to me!] Marcus teased, his eyes gleaming with mischief.


    [Hiss! Who said I don''t like it?] Miaomiao snapped back, her fur bristling as she bared her sharp teeth at Marcus.


    As always, Marcus''s playful needling worked wonders to rouse Miaomiao from her sulking. Michael intervened before their banter escalated further.


    "Alright, that''s enough, you two. We need to focus. This is an important moment." S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Hearing the firmness in his voice, both creatures straightened their postures and fell in line behind him, their playful antics momentarily set aside.


    As they approached the audience chamber, the sound of heated arguments leaked through the heavy wooden doors. Michael gestured for the guards to open them, and the scene inside confirmed the chaos.


    "We were here first! As wizards from the esteemed Mage Tower, we absolutely cannot tolerate these knights overstepping their bounds!"


    The speaker, a wizard with a long beard that nearly brushed his waist, glared furiously at the opposing group, his face red with indignation.


    "Overstepping? Can''t you see our beasts waiting outside? It''s clear the Sphinx should be researched first, while we take the dragon!" retorted a knight, his tone a mix of anger and urgency.


    The wizard scoffed. "And you think this dire political situation calls for breeding experiments? If anyone should have priority, it''s us!"


    "Breeding experiments? Don''t be absurd! The dragon''s potential is wasted on your so-called research. It''s far better suited to bolster military strength!"


    Their arguments escalated into a near-shouting match. Meanwhile, Dominic sat at the head of the table, visibly exhausted as he tried¡ªand failed¡ªto mediate.


    Michael stood for a moment, observing the unruly scene. His calm demeanor was in stark contrast to the cacophony around him. He walked purposefully toward the high seat, Miaomiao and Marcus flanking him like regal guardians.


    All eyes turned to Michael as he entered the chamber. His steady stride and the imposing presence of his companions immediately drew attention.


    "Gentlemen, please," Michael said, his voice low but commanding. "Take your seats. No matter how much you argue, the decision lies with us. Save your energy."


    His warning carried weight. Even Miaomiao and Marcus added their own expressions of displeasure¡ªMiaomiao''s eyes gleamed with an intimidating glow, while Marcus let his claws scrape audibly against the stone floor.


    The effect was immediate. Wizards and knights alike hesitated before slowly returning to their seats, the tension in the room palpable.


    One of the wizards was the first to break the silence, though his tone was laced with frustration.


    "This is not what we agreed upon! We were assured access to the Sphinx and dragon for research purposes¡ª"


    "Enough!" Michael interrupted sharply.


    "Was that truly the agreement? Or are you conveniently forgetting the terms? Let me remind everyone here: the agreement was contingent upon your assistance with the development of the new territory. Tell me, what contributions have you made so far?"


    The wizard faltered, his confidence shaken. Indeed, they hadn''t lifted a finger to assist yet.


    Sensing an opportunity, a knight rose from his seat.


    "We''ve already paid significant sums! Surely, that entitles us to priority access¡ª"


    "Paid?" Michael raised an eyebrow, taking a deliberate step toward the knight. "Did you think Marcus was for sale? Let''s be clear: your payments were investments in the territory, nothing more."


    Michael retrieved a copy of the contract from his dimensional pouch and held it up for all to see.


    "It''s all here in writing: ''Funds provided are investments in the territory''s development, to be reimbursed over a century as the land prospers.'' Your payments do not grant you ownership or special privileges."


    The knight opened his mouth to protest but hesitated, unsure of how to counter.


    "Yes, you''ll receive dragon blood," Michael continued, his tone even, "but only once the territory is fully developed."


    He turned to the assembled knights, meeting their gazes one by one.


    "Now, here''s a proposal: if war does break out, any knight who aids us until its conclusion will receive a flask of dragon blood as compensation."


    The room fell silent, the weight of Michael''s words sinking in.


    "For those unwilling to join us in battle, you may still receive your investment returns over a century¡ªor, alternatively, contribute directly to the territory''s development. However, with war looming, the timeline for development will likely stretch significantly."


    The knights exchanged uneasy glances, their faces betraying a mix of frustration and resignation.


    Michael shook the contract again for emphasis.


    "Let me remind you of another clause: any offspring produced from Marcus''s dragon blood will belong to our house. You agreed to this when you signed."


    He smiled faintly as the knights'' expressions soured further. Meanwhile, the wizards smirked, finding some schadenfreude in their rivals'' predicament.


    But Michael wasn''t done.


    "Now, as for the esteemed wizards," he said, turning to them, "your work begins tomorrow. Those who are prepared to assist in the territory''s development first thing in the morning will have the privilege of riding on Marcus''s back."


    The room erupted into murmurs as the wizards processed his words. The chance to ride a dragon was a rare and coveted opportunity.


    Michael''s smile widened ever so slightly.


    Hook, line, and sinker.

 Chapter 96 Re-awakening of Arnan

    Late at night, Michael climbed the stairs, his body weighed down with fatigue after a lengthy meeting. Though he had outlined a plan to utilize the mages, he still doubted its feasibility. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.As he reached the corridor at the top of the stairs, Alfred stood in his path.


    "We need to go somewhere together," Alfred said.


    Michael hesitated briefly before nodding. His grandfather wouldn''t ask something harmful of him¡ªthere must be a reason.


    The two mounted Marcus and soared into the sky, eventually arriving at an old graveyard where they had once dug up a mandrake.


    "This is the burial ground for executioners of the old Holy Kingdom," Alfred explained. "Later, executioners from the Pamir Empire were also buried here."


    Michael''s eyes lit up. Executioners from both the Holy Kingdom and the Pamir Empire? Just recalling a few names, he was already overwhelmed by their renown.


    "Does that mean the legendary reformer Arnan of the Holy Kingdom is buried here?" Michael asked eagerly.


    "Exactly. The greatest genius of the Holy Kingdom and an emblem of misfortune," Alfred replied.


    Michael remembered Arnan''s legend¡ªa man whose every reformative idea touched the Holy Kingdom''s most sensitive nerve, ultimately leading to his execution.


    "According to legend, he was buried beneath a stone engraved with the symbol of the saint he adored in life," Alfred added.


    Carrying magical lamps, the two began searching for the saint''s symbol. Time passed before Michael discovered an emblem shaped like an anemone flower. The two exchanged a glance, lifted the stone, and dug tirelessly into the ground.


    Soon, a crumbling coffin emerged. Michael opened its lid, releasing a cloud of acrid dust. Inside lay a decayed corpse, its head and body separated.


    Placing his hand on the brittle skull, Michael called out,


    "Resurrectionis electio!"


    The skull reattached itself to the body, flesh began regenerating, and a miraculous transformation unfolded. Moments later, a man with plain brown hair sat upright in the coffin, his sharp gaze fixed on Michael.


    "Who awakened me? What is it you seek from me?" the man asked sternly.


    Clutching his head as if overwhelmed, the man soon knelt before Michael.


    "My apologies for not recognizing my lord immediately upon awakening. I am Arnan, a reformer from the Holy Kingdom, a man who once knew and understood all things."


    Michael extended his hand to Arnan. With this man, he thought, he could fully utilize the mages.


    The training grounds of Crassus Castle buzzed with activity early in the morning. It was packed with master-level mages ranked at Level 5 and above, along with their apprentices.


    "Master, please sit down and have something to eat. You''ve been standing for too long¡ªyou''ll harm your health," one apprentice pleaded.


    "Sit? When the chance to ride a dragon is at stake? Look at those crazy old fools up front," the master grumbled. "I came here at one in the morning, and yet this is what I get."


    "What else could we have done? Word has it that five masters pitched tents and camped out here as soon as Michael finished speaking yesterday. We underestimated them."


    "Crazy old fools! That''s what they are¡ªcrazy old fools!"


    This was Elias, a master of the earth magic school, who staunchly believed he didn''t belong in the "crazy old fool" category.


    "Still, there''s hope. What is our specialty? Earth magic. Surely, we''ll be invaluable for the development of new territory, and we''ll get to ride the dragon," his apprentice offered optimistically.


    "That''s the problem¡ªwe assumed that and ended up like this. Michael did say it would be first-come, first-served..."


    "From what I''ve seen, Michael isn''t an inflexible person. Negotiations should be possible," the apprentice reassured.


    "You think so? Riding a dragon¡­ what a rare experience that would be. Where else could we ever do such a thing?"


    Similar conversations buzzed all around the grounds.


    Meanwhile, Dionysus, one of the masters who had camped out last night, perked up his ears as he overheard the discussions.


    "What? The earth magic school thinks they have an advantage? I won''t stand for that!"


    As a master of the water magic school, Dionysus couldn''t help but feel insecure. Even he wasn''t sure what role his school could play in developing new lands.


    "Calm down, Master. That''s why we came here first. We''ll get to ride the dragon," his apprentice said reassuringly.


    "Hmm, yes. Your suggestion to sleep here turned out to be brilliant. Well done," Dionysus said, his mood brightening.


    The gates of the castle creaked open, prompting Dionysus to leap to his feet.


    "They''re coming out. Ugh, my back..." he groaned, as his apprentice Rahela gently patted his back.


    Michael surveyed the mass of mages assembled on the training grounds and sighed.


    Did they all want to ride a dragon so badly? It seemed every mage in the castle was here. Many even looked disheveled, as if they had slept here. Why were even the elderly so eager?


    Nearby, Miaomiao, his feline companion, licked her paw and muttered,


    [You''ve underestimated their thirst for knowledge. Mages would sell their souls to explore something new.]


    "Yeah... I must''ve oversimplified things. Marcus?" Michael called.


    Still groggy from the previous night''s outing, Marcus mumbled,


    [What is it?]


    "It seems you''ll need to make a few trips back and forth to the new territory. Can you handle it?"


    Marcus yawned widely, extending a paw.


    [As long as there''s proper compensation, I don''t mind.]


    Michael shot a glare at Miaomiao. She had clearly corrupted Marcus with her influence!


    "Of course. We can''t have our precious Marcus working without compensation. How about charging 500 gold per mage? They''re all quite wealthy and can afford it. I''ll split the earnings with you. How''s that sound?"


    Michael ignored Miaomiao''s look of shock as Marcus''s eyes lit up.


    [That''s a great idea.]


    But how much would 500 gold per mage add up to? Marcus tilted his head quizzically.


    "Don''t worry," Michael said with a grin, patting Marcus''s wing. "I''ll handle the calculations and make sure you''re paid. Oh, by the way, Marcus, have you ever heard of investing? It''s when ten gold turns into eleven over ten years..."

 Chapter 97 Collect Donations For Marcus

    Miaomiao nodded approvingly. She herself was already engaged in such investments. As Marcus''s elder sister figure, she felt proud of his newfound opportunities.Under Michael''s orders, soldiers began organizing the mages into lines.


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    "As per the conditions I set yesterday, everyone who gathered here before we arrived will get a chance to ride Marcus to the new territory," Michael announced.


    Scanning the crowd, he continued,


    "Marcus can carry up to 150 people at once, but doing so would ruin the essence of what it means to ride a dragon, wouldn''t it?"


    The gathered mages nodded in agreement.


    It wasn''t just about riding a dragon; the mages were here to observe and conduct research.


    "That''s why the journey will require multiple trips," Michael explained. "However, given the sheer number of people gathered, some negotiation seems necessary." He shook his head in feigned exasperation, prompting an impatient mage to ask,


    "What kind of negotiation? Can''t we just do this on a first come, first served basis?"


    Mages who had arrived late, knowing they would lose under such a rule, shouted their protests from all directions.


    "How can we compete with those who camped here all night? That would be utterly unfair!"


    Michael raised his hand to calm the crowd.


    "I am a man of my word," he assured them. "All you need to do is provide a modest contribution for Marcus''s efforts."


    The crowd quieted, reassured that no one would be excluded from riding the dragon.


    "As you know," Michael continued, "dragons love building nests. Therefore, we''ll collect donations for Marcus''s nest. 500 gold per person should suffice."


    The mages, most of whom came from wealthy families and enjoyed substantial earnings even after becoming mages, found the suggestion reasonable.


    "That sounds fair. Where do we pay the 500 gold?" one mage asked.


    "Soldiers will come around with chests," Michael said. "Please deposit your 500 gold into the chests as they pass."


    Soldiers moved through the crowd in pairs, carrying large chests. Masters of schools and 9th tier mages alike paid the same fee¡ª500 gold each.


    "What about the first ride?" a mage asked eagerly.


    Michael paused before responding.


    "For the first ride, I hope for significant research results. Isn''t everyone here eager to study how the dragon spreads its wings or rides the wind?"


    The master of the Aeromancy school nodded.


    "Precisely. For us, who specialize in flight magic, observing a dragon''s flight will lead to remarkable breakthroughs."


    Not to be outdone, the master of the Celestial school interjected,


    "It''s also a rare opportunity to observe atmospheric flow from above. We of the Celestial school would like priority as well." S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The master of the Aquamancy school, who had been first in line, protested,


    "That''s absurd! The first ride should be based on order of arrival."


    Michael reassured him with a thoughtful suggestion.


    "What if we prioritize masters and their assistants? After all, meaningful research is more likely to come from those at the master level."


    The proposal received unanimous approval. No one minded if assistants or others came later.


    "Masters, please bring one assistant and step forward," Michael instructed.


    There were 40 masters present, each accompanied by an assistant, making a total of 80 people. This number allowed ample space for observation during the dragon''s flight.


    After successfully "selling" seats, Marcus took off. As the dragon ascended, the masters busily began their research, moving about the broad expanse of its back.


    Michael watched the elderly masters with admiration. Their passion at their age was truly impressive.


    One master approached him¡ªDionysus of the Aquamancy school.


    "Thank you for this extraordinary experience. I am Dionysus, master of the Aquamancy school."


    Michael regarded him curiously, prompting the older man to clear his throat.


    "Well, about our contribution to the development of the new territory¡­ If our school''s skills aren''t particularly needed, I''d like to offer financial support to make up for it."


    Ah, Michael thought, he''s worried that being deemed unhelpful will exclude his school from further opportunities. Smiling, Michael replied,


    "You don''t need to worry about that. The Aquamancy school will handle cleaning up the village¡ªkeeping it tidy and functional."


    Dionysus froze momentarily, his expression betraying his disbelief. The great Aquamancy school reduced to cleaners? But he quickly recovered, realizing it would be his apprentices doing the work, not him.


    "That''s a relief. My apprentices came along, so while they''re busy, I can focus on my research, right?"


    "Of course," Michael said magnanimously. "Masters will only need to provide minimal assistance in times of war. In return, you''ll receive dragon ichor under the same terms as the knights."


    Dionysus brightened at this. The promise of dragon ichor was worth any inconvenience, even if "minimal assistance" left him slightly uneasy.


    "I''d prefer ichor from a Sphinx dragon, if possible," Dionysus said.


    Michael leaned toward Miaomiao, perched on his shoulder, and whispered. The feline''s tail bristled as she glared at Dionysus.


    [Think about it, Miaomiao. Dragon ichor regenerates. This is a golden opportunity to make a profit.]


    After a moment of consideration, Miaomiao sighed.


    [Fine. If living a luxurious life as a Sphinx means this, so be it. But make sure to invest the proceeds wisely.]


    "Then let''s finalize the agreement," Michael said, as Julian, his steward, presented a contract.


    Dionysus eagerly pressed his seal onto the document before returning to his research, casting a greedy glance at Miaomiao.


    Word spread quickly, and other masters approached to negotiate similar terms. By the time Michael was done, every master had signed a contract. He entrusted Julian with safeguarding the documents, confident they would secure the territory''s safety and military contributions in times of need.


    With Michael overseeing the contracts, half the credit for any contributions by knights or mages would ultimately go to him.


    The flight to the new territory was brief. The masters disembarked reluctantly, shaking their heads at the missed opportunity for extended observation. They resolved to send their apprentices to begin work as soon as possible.


    ...


    AN: I was planning to end the mass release here, but since I received so many reviews and feedback, I''ll just give you everything I have right now.

 Chapter 98 Assigning Tasks

    Marcus took off again, heading back to fetch the apprentices.Standing beside Michael, now dressed in a servant''s garb, was Arnan. Though both were fatigued from their overnight meeting, their eyes gleamed with determination.


    Arnan, in particular, seemed elated at the chance to achieve the reforms he could never realize in his previous life. His dream of using magic to improve lives had been the very reason for his execution in the Holy Kingdom.


    As Arnan marveled at this new opportunity, he silently expressed his gratitude to his lord. Michael, the one who had resurrected him and would help him fulfill his vision, began to speak.


    The plan that Michael and Arnan had carefully devised the night before was now ready for implementation. Michael stood in the empty village square, overgrown with weeds, and addressed the masters gathered before him.


    "Alright, let''s assign tasks!" his voice rang out.


    He turned to the Pyromancy school first.


    "Pyromancy school! You will collaborate with the Geomancy school to produce bricks. Can you do it?"


    The Pyromancy master, Vulkan, looked at the Geomancy master in confusion.


    Bricks? How are we supposed to make bricks?


    Seeing their puzzled expressions, Michael elaborated with a smile.


    "The Geomancy school will extract clay and soil from the ground and mold it into brick shapes. After that, the Pyromancy school will dry and fire the bricks to complete the process."


    Michael paused and pointed toward the distant mountains.


    "The clay can be sourced from the lakes and highlands beyond the mountains. It''s the perfect environment for extracting mud and sand. Simple, right?"


    An awkward silence fell over the group.


    What kind of nonsense is this? Vulkan stepped forward, voicing his objection.


    "We''ve never done anything like this! We don''t even know how to make bricks!"


    His frustration resonated with the other masters, who nodded in agreement.


    Michael, unfazed, looked straight at Vulkan and said with an air of confidence,


    "Brickmakers will arrive today to teach you the basics. Once you use magic, the process will speed up considerably. The more you practice, the better you''ll get."


    He added casually, as if it were the simplest thing in the world,


    "We''re not rebuilding the entire village from scratch, just making some repairs. You''ll only need about ten million bricks."


    Ten million?! Is that a name or a quantity?


    While the Pyromancy and Geomancy schools grappled with the sheer scale of the task, Michael moved on.


    "Next, the Hydromancy school! You''ll work with the Mist school to clean the polluted village, castle, and house interiors." S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Pausing to catch his breath, Michael continued,


    "The Hydromancy school will use high pressure water to remove dirt, and the Mist school will handle the finer cleaning and drying."


    Yurik, the master of the Mist school, looked alarmed and started to step forward, but Michael raised a hand to stop him.


    "I know you can do it," Michael said firmly.


    "The Mist school''s magic can handle both cleaning and drying. There are three more villages of a similar size. You''ll start as soon as the apprentices arrive."


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    Yurik hesitated, but eventually retreated without a word.


    The masters turned to look at the village. Its massive scale left them speechless. There are three more villages like this?


    It''s possible, they thought, exchanging glances, but we''ll have to work the apprentices to the bone.


    Michael noted their reactions with a glance and moved on to the next task. He was pleased to see the wisdom in separating the apprentices from their masters; the apprentices would be the ones doing the hard labor, while the masters merely supervised from a distance.


    "Metallurgy school, Cryomancy school, and Volcanology school!"


    The named masters straightened nervously as Michael''s gaze swept over them.


    "The lake above us contains volcanic activity, so there''s a good chance groundwater flows beneath the village."


    Michael gestured toward the ground, drawing all eyes downward.


    "The Volcanology school will detect the groundwater first. Then, using magic circles, you''ll channel geothermal energy to create hot water flows."


    Kuohto, the oldest master of the Volcanology school, stepped forward, his face grim.


    "That will require an astronomical number of mana stones. It''s possible, but where are we supposed to get so many?"


    Michael chuckled lightly.


    "Have you forgotten? Marcus is a red dragon and can summon fire spirits. Use them."


    His next words made the Volcanology masters flinch.


    "Also, I know you have lava crystals. Each one can be exchanged for a vial of dragon or Sphinx ichor. What do you think?"


    Kuohto''s eyes lit up. Fire spirits and lava crystals? That would allow for perpetual energy production.


    Sure, the fire spirits would be sacrificed and trapped underground as energy sources, but who cares about their plight? The other masters were plotting to work their apprentices to exhaustion¡ªwhat rights did spirits have in such a world?


    Satisfied with the Volcanology school''s reluctant agreement, Michael turned to the Cryomancy school.


    "Cryomancy school!"


    Aurora, their representative master, raised her head nervously at his call.


    "You''ll create wells for the groundwater to flow through. Freeze the ground to stabilize the structure, then melt it to excavate," Michael explained.


    Whew. That doesn''t sound too bad, Aurora thought, feeling a moment of relief. This task seemed simpler than she had feared.


    But her relief was short lived.


    "You''ll only need to dig down about 1 to 2 kilometers to channel the geothermal energy effectively. It shouldn''t be too difficult right?" Michael added nonchalantly.


    "Don''t forget to coordinate with the Volcanology school to reinforce the ground," he said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.


    Why don''t you try it yourself, you bastard!


    Aurora barely restrained the urge to hurl her staff at him. Her frustration dissipated, however, when she caught sight of Miaomiao lazily wagging her tail, exuding an air of indifference.


    This wasn''t going to be easy, but there was no turning back now.


    As Michael observed Aurora''s shifting expressions while assigning her tasks, he swiftly moved on to the next group before she reached her limits

 Chapter 99 Well Figure It Out By Overworking The Apprentices

    "Metallurgy school!" he called out. "Master of Metallurgy, your task is to create copper pipes and work with the Volcanology and Cryomancy schools to install plumbing for groundwater flow."The Metallurgy master, known for his adventurous spirit, lit up with excitement.


    "The pipes must ultimately connect the excavated wells to the castle''s central well and every well in the village," Michael explained.


    The master furrowed his brow in thought before asking,


    "Won''t this interfere with the moat''s water supply?"


    "We''re not planning to raise fish in the moat, so it doesn''t matter," Michael replied curtly, keeping further details to himself.


    This task was part of Michael''s broader strategy. He envisioned using the groundwater system to establish defensive measures, set magical traps, boil the moat to repel invaders, create large-scale greenhouses for exotic crops, or refine minerals. He also planned to convert geothermal energy into mana using a magical converter he had instructed Leonardo to design.


    The three schools'' masters exchanged uncertain glances before nodding reluctantly. Their shared thought: We''ll figure it out by overworking the apprentices.


    Michael''s voice rang out again.


    "Aeromancy and Biomancy schools!"


    The masters of both schools immediately focused their attention.


    "The Aeromancy school will work with Marcus," Michael began.


    At the mention of Marcus, all eyes turned to him.


    "When Marcus breathes fire, you''ll manipulate the wind to burn and gather all the weeds and fallen leaves in the village. Precision is key to prevent wildfires."


    The Aeromancy master, gripping his staff, trembled with excitement. Michael briefly worried that the man might have a heart attack from sheer enthusiasm.


    "Additionally," Michael continued, "Marcus''s accumulated waste will be delivered shortly. Combine it with the weeds and ashes to create fertilizer with the Biomancy school."


    The Biomancy master''s eyes widened, his excitement barely contained. He seemed on the verge of dancing with joy until Michael raised a hand to calm him.


    "The Biomancy school will inject nutrients into the fermented mixture and add elements essential for plant growth. Using organic magic, this should be entirely feasible. Am I correct?"


    "Of course! This is a tremendous honor!" the Biomancy master exclaimed passionately, his eyes gleaming.


    "Until now, we''ve only sold fertilizer made from animal or monster droppings. Dragon manure is groundbreaking! It''ll be immune to any pests or diseases!"


    Watching the Biomancy master''s exuberance, Michael smiled. Just as expected.


    "Good," Michael said. "Coordinate with the Aeromancy school to determine the optimal fermentation and drying speeds. Adjust the temperature using wind manipulation." Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After giving the Biomancy and Aeromancy schools a moment to calm down, Michael added,


    "Also, research how to maximize efficiency. Dragon waste is limited, after all."


    Everyone nodded, especially the Biomancy master, who seemed moved to tears at the mere thought of working with dragon waste. To him, this was a revolution in the field of fertilizer production.


    "Of course! We can''t afford to waste such a precious resource!" Your adventure continues at My Virtual Library Empire


    Other masters glanced enviously at the Aeromancy and Biomancy schools. Working alongside a dragon was an unparalleled opportunity, and their murmured complaints betrayed their jealousy.


    Meanwhile, Miaomiao, perched on Michael''s shoulder, facepalmed and stared at Marcus. Despite the public discussion of his droppings, Marcus seemed blissfully indifferent.


    Well¡­ at least he doesn''t care about "dragon rights" issues, Miaomiao thought with a sigh.


    Michael ignored Miaomiao''s sigh and moved on to the final assignments.


    "Lastly¡­ Aeromancy and Beast mastery schools!"


    The masters'' attention snapped back to him.


    "Beastmasters will collaborate with the knights to transport materials and supplies using the beasts they''ve brought. I trust no one understands the unique traits and capabilities of these beasts better than your school."


    Given the variety of creatures and their individual strengths, this collaboration was essential for efficiency.


    "I''ve already coordinated with the knights, so work with them to find the best methods for each beast," Michael concluded, studying the masters'' reactions.


    As expected, they didn''t look thrilled about working alongside knights. Anticipating this, Michael offered an enticing incentive.


    "If this task is completed successfully, you''ll be granted the honor of participating in dragon ichor-assisted breeding projects."


    At this, the Beastmastery masters'' faces lit up. Observing and assisting with dragon ichor breeding was a lifelong dream for many in their field.


    Michael allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. He had also promised the knights that the Beastmasters would assist with breeding if they loaned out their beasts. As long as both parties benefited, all was well.


    The Beastmastery masters, now brimming with enthusiasm, began envisioning their breeding plans.


    Michael turned his attention to the Aeromancy masters.


    "Aeromancy school, your task is to assist with material transportation using flight and gravity magic."


    Given their expertise, they were perfect for the job.


    "Move the materials to the right places as quickly as possible. Marcus will occasionally assist with transportation as well, so I expect your cooperation."


    Though initially disgruntled at being reduced to "haulers," the Aeromancy masters'' expressions brightened at the prospect of collaborating with Marcus. Michael''s carefully crafted words had minimized their resistance.


    With all tasks assigned, Michael finally allowed himself a moment of rest. He entered an empty house and sank into a chair, his body weary from the day''s efforts.


    Arnan followed him quietly inside.


    "I''ll get to see all these plans come to life," Arnan said, bowing deeply. His voice was filled with genuine respect. "Thank you, my lord."


    Michael looked at him with gratitude.


    "I should be thanking you. None of this would''ve been possible without the details you provided. My ideas were nothing more than rough sketches."


    Arnan shook his head modestly, his eyes shining.


    "Not at all. You''ve come up with things I never would have imagined. I''m thrilled to have finally found a true master to serve."


    Michael''s lips twitched. Do demons naturally develop a talent for flattery? Regardless, as long as Arnan remained loyal, it was all that mattered.


    Outside, the masters were loudly discussing how to carry out their tasks. Their voices faded into the background as Michael mused to himself.


    Which corpse should I dig up tonight?

 Chapter 100 Resurrectionis electio! Rabouin

    Alfred and Michael flew on Marcus toward the familiar graveyard¡ªa treasure trove, as far as Michael was concerned. Alfred''s earlier investigations into the graves of the Draigo mountain range had been based on the legend that mandrakes grew by feeding on the blood of executed individuals."Thank you so much, Grandfather. Thanks to you, I''ll be able to recruit many talented individuals," Michael said gratefully.


    "Helping my grandson is only natural," Alfred replied, smiling warmly at him.


    "Have you decided which condemned soul you''ll revive today?" Alfred asked.


    Michael beamed as he revealed his plan.


    "Yes. Today, I''ll revive Rabouin, a scholar from the Holy Kingdom. He was executed as a heretic, but his expertise could be invaluable to the territory."


    Michael thought of Rabouin, the man who had introduced the concept of chemistry to the world. He imagined Rabouin developing gunpowder, with Marcus and flying beasts carrying out aerial bombardments. Just the thought made Michael smile.


    "After all, isn''t it said that highly advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic?" Michael mused. Since Rabouin''s execution, the world had seen almost no progress in chemistry. Introducing gunpowder as a new "magic" would likely arouse no suspicion. S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Rabouin, eh? He lived around 700 years ago," Alfred said thoughtfully. "We should look for graves built in the style of that era." Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire


    "Yes," Michael agreed. "Rabouin had many disciples, so even if he was executed, they would''ve ensured he received a proper burial."


    Michael pondered further before adding,


    "The burial style of that period involved carving symbols representing the deceased. As a scholar, Rabouin''s grave should be marked with a book."


    Alfred looked at his grandson with pride.


    "You''ve remembered what I taught you."


    "Of course," Michael said, scratching his head sheepishly. "I''ll eventually inherit your role as an executioner, after all."


    "Marcus, we''ll soon reach the mandrake habitat from before. Land there," Michael instructed.


    [This is the third time already. I know where it is,] Marcus grumbled, swishing his spiked tail irritably.


    Michael patted Marcus''s wing in a soothing gesture.


    "I know, I know. Our Marcus is a master navigator. You''ve been working hard helping me every night, haven''t you? Just hang in there a little longer. I''ll reward you with a pearl after today''s task."


    Rejuvenated by the promise, Marcus perked up and flapped his wings with renewed vigor.


    [We''ve arrived. The ground here feels sticky. It''s unpleasant.]


    "When we return, I''ll have the servants bathe you thoroughly. A soak in the lake will make you feel better," Michael assured.


    [Make sure they soap me properly, too.]


    Given Marcus''s size, even using diluted soap would require at least two bars. Michael''s lips twitched at the thought of the expense but quickly relaxed. Such trivial costs no longer concerned him.


    "Of course, bathing in your full form will feel far better," Michael replied.


    [Obviously. It''s a hundred times better,] Marcus said.


    "Alright, Marcus. Wait here for now," Michael instructed.


    [Finish quickly. The ground is too sticky for me to lie down,] Marcus complained.


    After giving Marcus a reassuring pat, Michael gathered the necessary tools with Alfred. Excavating a 700-year-old sarcophagus would require proper equipment.


    "Hmm¡­ we found Arnan over there, so Rabouin''s grave should be further downhill," Michael said, pointing.


    "That''s likely, based on chronology, though we can''t be certain," Alfred replied.


    "True. There''s no guarantee the graves were arranged in order. I''ll search uphill; could you check below?" Michael suggested.


    Dividing their efforts, the two began their search for Rabouin''s tomb.


    After some time, Alfred called out to Michael.


    "Here it is! Rabouin de Balassier. I''ve found it."


    Michael ran to Alfred''s location, his face alight with excitement. The white marble gravestone, carved in the shape of a book, bore Rabouin''s name. There was no doubt¡ªit was his grave.


    Wielding pickaxes and shovels, they began breaking through the gravestone. Though they could have used magic to expedite the process, it would have been disrespectful to the deceased¡ªa strict principle of executioners, especially in the case of someone unjustly executed like Rabouin.


    Eventually, the sarcophagus beneath the stone was exposed. Using a pickaxe as a lever, they lifted the heavy lid.


    Rabouin''s body had been preserved in the sealed sarcophagus, mummified but intact. Unlike Arnan, Rabouin''s neck was still attached to his body, indicating greater care had been taken with his burial.


    Nodding in approval, Michael placed his hand on the corpse and chanted,


    "Resurrectionis electio!"


    As if time reversed, Rabouin''s body began to restore itself. Flesh regenerated, and his once-deformed form straightened. Soon, the figure of a scholar wearing a white wig emerged.


    Rabouin opened his eyes and met Michael''s gaze.


    "Good heavens, I''m alive again! What on earth is happening?"


    After a moment of shock, Rabouin reacted like the other revived souls.


    "My lord, was it you who awakened me? Thank you! There''s so much research I still wish to conduct. I pledge my loyalty to you, my noble master."


    Rabouin sprang to his feet and knelt before Michael.


    Perfect, Michael thought, suppressing a grin. I''ve gained a new alchemist¡ªor rather, a devoted gunpowder manufacturer.


    Exhausted, Michael and Alfred returned to the new territory just before dawn. After bidding farewell to Alfred and entrusting Rabouin to Arnan, Michael barely managed to reach his temporary quarters before collapsing into bed.


    Though he could replenish his energy with absorbed mana, the acts of resurrection and power absorption still drained his physical strength.


    It felt like only moments had passed before his steward, Julian, shook him awake.


    "My lord, please rise. The masters and apprentices have already begun their tasks," Julian informed him.


    Still groggy, Michael forced himself up. Julian, ever-efficient, handed him freshly baked bread and a cup of coffee.


    "Thank you, Julian. How are things progressing?" Michael asked, sipping his coffee.


    "There''s been some friction, but overall, the work is proceeding smoothly," Julian replied, pouring more coffee with practiced ease.


    "The Geomancy and Pyromancy schools are the most vocal. They''re having difficulty learning brick-making techniques from the artisans."


    Michael dabbed his mouth with a napkin and stood.


    "Let''s take a look. Lead the way."

 Chapter 101 Do You Really Want To Be A Knight?

    Julian draped a cloak over Michael''s shoulders and guided him to the source of the commotion."You''re doing it wrong! How many times do I have to tell you? You need to put the exact amount of clay into the mold. If it''s uneven like this, it won''t work!" one artisan bellowed.


    A flustered mage, unused to such reprimands, shouted back,


    "I''ve never done this kind of work before!"


    "The heir to the territory instructed me to teach you the process. I''m just following orders. You need to understand every step to make proper bricks!" the artisan countered.


    Watching the escalating argument, Michael stepped forward to mediate.


    "Alright, everyone, calm down," Michael said, stepping into the tense scene. "You there, brickmaker, your name is...?"


    "I am Vernon, my lord," replied the startled artisan, dropping to the ground in a hurried bow.


    Michael helped him back to his feet. "No need for formalities, Vernon. You don''t need to explain every single step of the brick-making process to them."


    "But how will they learn to make proper bricks then, my lord?" Vernon asked, bewildered.


    "Which part of the process absolutely requires a craftsman''s touch? Specifically, the parts the mages seem to struggle with?" Michael inquired.


    "Well... mixing water with the soil and shaping the bricks in the molds are tricky. We rely on intuition for that, which makes it hard to explain," Vernon admitted.


    "Not everyone needs to participate in every part of the process. Split your team into two groups: one to mix the soil and water, and the other to shape the bricks in the molds. Leave the rest to the mages."


    "Would that really work?" Vernon asked hesitantly.


    "It will be enough," Michael assured him.


    Turning to the mages, Michael addressed a young man standing nearby.


    "And which school are you from?"


    "I am Niki, Master Elius''s apprentice and the supervisor for the Geomancy school''s mages," he replied confidently.


    "Very well, Niki. The Geomancy school will extract soil from the lakeside and highlands, purify it, and deliver it to the artisans. Once they''ve mixed it with water, your task will be to knead the mixture. Can you manage that?"


    "That''s what we Geomancy mages excel at. Of course, we can," Niki replied with a brightened expression.


    "Good. Like the artisans, divide your team into two groups to increase efficiency," Michael instructed.


    With newfound clarity, Niki led the Geomancy mages off to collect soil, visibly relieved that their role had been clarified. Michael watched them go, glad to have avoided further lectures on brick-making.


    He then turned his attention to the Pyromancy school, where murmurs of confusion were audible. A sharp-eyed mage stepped forward.


    "I am Eric, Master Vulkan''s apprentice. How can we help?"


    "Eric, you and the Pyromancy mages will handle the drying and firing of the bricks after the artisans have shaped them. Maintain a consistent temperature to prevent the bricks from cracking."


    "Temperature control is our specialty. Consider it done," Eric said confidently. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Good. Divide into two groups and share the workload. This will help everyone become more efficient in their tasks."


    "Understood. A brilliant plan¡ªit will definitely improve productivity," Eric said with approval.


    With the brick-making process divided into six clear stages, Michael rubbed his tired eyes and turned to Julian.


    "If they use magic, the bricks should be finished by the end of the day. As soon as they''re ready, instruct the plasterers to start repairing the village," Michael said.


    "Understood, my lord. Shall we prioritize the castle repairs after the village?" Julian asked.


    "No, focus on the village first. The castle can wait until we have a proper design plan for the repairs," Michael replied.


    Julian nodded.


    "Very well, my lord. I''ll see to it."


    "You''re doing an excellent job, as always. Thank you, Julian. But tell me, do you truly wish to become a knight?" Michael asked suddenly.


    The question startled Julian, who stiffened.


    "I¡­ I know I lack the aptitude for knighthood, but my family has been knights for generations..."


    "I don''t distinguish between knights and administrators. Frankly, you''re better suited to administrative work than knighthood. You should stop knight training and learn practical governance from Arnan. I believe even your father would prefer that," Michael said gently.


    Julian''s eyes glistened, but he managed to keep his composure. "Do you truly mean that, my lord?"


    "I do. You have the potential to excel as an administrator," Michael said firmly.


    Overwhelmed with gratitude, Julian bowed deeply and strode off to find Arnan. He didn''t know that Michael held back a thought: "You''ll be my eternal workhorse¡­ I mean, my loyal chancellor."


    As Michael watched Julian walk away, he turned his attention to the other schools.


    The Hydromancy and Mist schools, as expected, were demonstrating their hidden prowess in cleaning. The Volcanology mages were wandering the village, bickering as they searched for groundwater. Meanwhile, the Cryomancy school repeatedly froze and thawed the ground, while the Metallurgy masters were deep in a heated discussion about pipe design and thickness.


    Watching them diligently carry out their assigned tasks, Michael felt it was worth leveraging Marcus and Miaomiao to motivate them.


    When Michael arrived at the fertilizer station, the Aeromancy and Biomancy schools were in the middle of their research. Marcus''s droppings were prominently displayed, and the mages seemed genuinely thrilled.


    How can they be so happy over dragon dung? Michael thought, bemused. Still, knowing that the success of their work would boost the territory''s agricultural output made him appreciate their enthusiasm.


    Meanwhile, the Beastmastery mages were busy training rare, high-grade beasts to transport supplies. Nearby, knights nervously hovered over their beasts, worried they might get injured.


    By now, the Geomancy mages had already departed to gather soil.


    "Excellent work, everyone," Michael said, addressing the gathered mages and knights. "The Geomancy school will soon bring soil. Which team¡ªBeastmastery or Aeromancy¡ªwill transport it first?"


    The Aeromancy master, Nirke, eagerly raised his hand. "The Aeromancy school is ready anytime! Will Marcus assist with the first transport?"


    Michael offered a kind smile.


    "Of course. This is a significant first transport, so Marcus will certainly participate."


    Overcome with excitement, Nirke clasped his hands together like a giddy child.


    "What an honor! I''ll personally assist with the first transport."


    Michael leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially,


    "Marcus loves jewels. If you reward him with one after each transport, he''ll be delighted."


    "Jewels? That''s no problem at all. Thank you for the valuable advice!" Nirke exclaimed. Experience new stories on My Virtual Library Empire


    As Nirke beamed, Michael smiled to himself. He had secured jewels for Marcus with minimal effort.


    After surveying the bustling village, Michael climbed to the top of the castle''s watchtower. Smoke rose from various areas, and the village teemed with activity. The lively scene filled his heart with pride.


    This is it¡ªCrassus'' new domain.

 Chapter 102 Bringing In The Serfs And Livestock

    In the distance, Marcus soared through the sky with other magical beasts trailing behind him, instinctively following the dragon''s superior aura.On the castle watchtower, Miaomiao stretched and yawned as she lazily rubbed her eyes with her paws, having just woken up from a long nap.


    [That chick is so carefree. He looks happy even while working, doesn''t he?]


    "That''s a good thing, isn''t it?" Michael replied with a smile. "Did you sleep well?"


    [Hmm, no matter how much I sleep, I''m still sleepy,] Miaomiao murmured, stifling another yawn. Her eyes sharpened with curiosity as she added, [Did we gain another demon? I can sense a new one.]


    "Yes," Michael confirmed. "Grandfather and I visited the graveyard yesterday. We need all the talent we can get."


    Miaomiao''s tail flicked back and forth as her curiosity deepened.


    [That''s smart. Mages and knights will leave eventually. What powers does this new demon have?]


    Michael paused, organizing his thoughts as a gentle breeze tousled his hair.


    "His name is Rabouin. In life, he was a renowned chemist and inventor. It seems his abilities include summoning elements and transmuting materials."


    Miaomiao''s eyes gleamed with excitement, her whiskers twitching forward.


    [Chemistry! That was a lost discipline after Rabouin''s death. If his powers are exactly as you say, this is incredible¡ªsummoning specific elements and transforming materials? That''s ridiculously useful!]


    Michael nodded, acknowledging the enormity of Rabouin''s talents. "Exactly. He seemed overjoyed when he woke up."


    [Overjoyed doesn''t even begin to cover it. Considering how tragic his end was, he deserves this second chance,] Miaomiao said, leaping onto Michael''s shoulder.


    The two stood silently on the watchtower, watching the bustling village below. Before long, Julian and Arnan approached, their hurried steps signaling urgency.


    "Perfect timing," Michael greeted them with a bright smile. "I have tasks for both of you."


    To Michael, they were the two strongest workhorses¡ªahem,¡ªmost dependable retainers in his service.


    "Send soldiers to the neighboring territory to fetch the miners we contracted earlier. Let them select houses according to the size of their families," Michael instructed.


    His initial plan was to develop the existing mines. With war looming, high quality iron ore would likely be seized by the crown, so it was better to avoid risks. Michael thought of Charles V, a shrewd and unpredictable ruler, and decided to proceed cautiously.


    He turned back to his retainers and gave more detailed instructions.


    "Tell the miners we''ll bring their families after the village renovations are complete. For now, have them pitch tents near the mines and begin work. Do you think you can handle this?"


    Arnan and Julian exchanged glances before nodding. Setting up sturdy tents with beds and lockers wouldn''t be a problem.


    "Absolutely, my lord. We''ve already assigned the women of the territory to tent production," Julian replied confidently.


    Thanks to Michael''s work allocation system, Crassus''s territory was producing over 100 tents daily, part of a broader plan to accommodate incoming serfs and support future development.


    "And the lamp style hats I asked Leonardo to make¡ªare they finished?"


    "They should be completed as of yesterday," Julian confirmed. "I''ll have Leonardo brought here using one of the flying beasts."


    Julian always strived to meet Michael''s expectations.


    "Good. Also, ask the Aeromancy school to apply ventilation magic morning and evening in the mines. Chronic lung disease is a major issue for miners, but this should reduce occupational illnesses significantly," Michael said.


    Arnan was visibly impressed by Michael''s thoughtfulness. "What a generous policy, my lord. Humanity must be at the core of all actions."


    Michael smiled faintly. In truth, his goal was to improve productivity, but he saw no harm in embracing Arnan''s interpretation. As a descendant of Dangun, Michael carried the philosophy of "Hongik Ingan"¡ªbenefiting humanity¡ªand he nodded in agreement.


    "Good. Let''s proceed with that plan. Now, what was so urgent that you came to find me?"


    Julian stepped forward. "My lord, the serfs and livestock we purchased from the capital have arrived. The soldiers stationed at the gorge reported their arrival."


    Michael''s face lit up. He had been anxiously awaiting their arrival.


    "Excellent news. Did everyone make it here safely? Never mind¡ªI''ll go see for myself. You two, carry on with your tasks." S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael lightly prodded Miaomiao, who stretched lazily on his shoulder. With an exaggerated sigh, she rose, her feline form shimmering briefly before transforming into her true self¡ªa majestic creature with large, powerful wings.


    The red ribbon she usually wore reconfigured into a harness. Michael swiftly climbed onto her back, grabbing the reins.


    With a powerful beat of her wings, Miaomiao soared into the sky, leaving the castle to shrink rapidly in the distance.


    The two flew swiftly and reached the Iron Valley Gorge, the territory''s natural defensive barrier and primary entrance.


    From atop Miaomiao, Michael looked down at the narrow entrance, where soldiers stood guard. The gorge''s width made it difficult for large groups to pass through at once.


    Near the guards stood a familiar face¡ªa plump merchant who was mopping his sweaty brow. Michael recognized him as someone he had met through his father.


    As Michael dismounted, the merchant hurried forward and bowed deeply.


    "Ah, my lord! It''s an honor to see you again. Have you been well?"


    Michael fixed him with a cool gaze.


    "Yes, I''ve been fine. Have you brought the serfs and livestock?"


    His eyes scanned the gorge, where families of serfs were clustered together. Behind them, the faint sounds of animals could be heard.


    "Ah, my lord, you wouldn''t believe how arduous the journey was. Five young ones and seventeen old ones perished along the way. As an apology, I''ve brought the worth of fifteen strong men to compensate. Will that suffice?" the merchant asked nervously.


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    Michael considered for a moment before nodding.


    "That''s acceptable. Are all the serfs brought here in family units?"


    The merchant showed a relieved expression and quickly nodded to Michael.


    "Of course, my lord! I wouldn''t dare play games with you. Every single one of them is here with their families."

 Chapter 103 Settling The Serfs

    His confidence was evident, but Michael remained vigilant.


    "Good. Were there any losses among the livestock?" Michael asked.


    The merchant brightened.


    "Some of the animals did die along the way, but we had an equal number of births. The numbers have actually increased, so there''s no change in value."


    Michael nodded in satisfaction.


    "That''s excellent news. And the herders¡ªare they here as well?"


    The merchant gestured toward a group of men standing a short distance away, dressed in vests and rugged clothing.


    "Yes, my lord. They are shepherds and cattle herders."


    "Are they all hired by your caravan?"


    "I employed them to accompany us on this journey. Do you need them for your estate?" the merchant asked, his shrewdness evident.


    Michael smiled. "Indeed. While we do have some shepherds among the villagers, their numbers are insufficient for the increased livestock. We''ll need more workers."


    The merchant clapped his hands and gestured for the herders to step forward.


    "What can we do for you, my lord?" asked an older man, seemingly the leader, as he respectfully removed his hat.


    "If you have no other commitments, how about temporary employment on my estate? I''ll pay you the same rate as the caravan."


    The leader hesitated, a faint tension in his voice as he replied.


    "Well¡­ we don''t have any immediate plans, but taking this job means losing an entire season of work. If you can provide assurances¡­"


    "How about I hire you until this time next year? All of you. If things go well, you''re welcome to bring your families and settle here permanently," Michael proposed, his tone calm and inviting.


    The herders exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves. The offer was fair and practical, showing both generosity and foresight.


    After a brief discussion, the leader''s expression brightened.


    "We accept, my lord. And you truly mean it¡ªthat we can bring our families to live here later?"


    The merchant interjected, his voice stern.


    "Do you think a nobleman like Sir Michael would go back on his word? Show some respect!"


    Realizing his mistake, the leader scratched his head sheepishly.


    "My apologies, my lord. I''m just an ignorant man."


    Michael chuckled.


    "No need to apologize. It''s natural to have questions. Skilled shepherds like you will be most welcome here. We''ll allocate homes and farmland based on your family size."


    But then Michael''s tone turned serious, his gaze sharp.


    "However, if even one of you causes trouble within the estate, you''ll all be punished and expelled."


    The herders tensed but nodded in agreement. For laborers like them, the opportunity to settle permanently with land and homes was a rare stroke of luck.


    "Of course, my lord. We''re all honest folk," the leader assured him. Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The merchant backed them up.


    "I wouldn''t have hired them if they weren''t reliable. They''re all members of the herders'' guild."


    Satisfied, Michael nodded. "Good. Follow the soldiers to the highlands. There''s a nearby lake and plenty of grasslands, perfect for grazing."


    His tone softened as he added,


    "Set up fences and let the livestock roam. I trust you''ll handle it well."


    The herders responded enthusiastically and began leading the animals toward the highlands under the soldiers'' guidance.


    Behind them, the serf families started murmuring among themselves, their apprehension clear. The merchant stepped forward to calm them.


    "Silence, all of you! This man is now your master¡ªa noble heir to the promising Crassus family. Serve him well, and your lives will prosper!"


    The serfs hesitated before slowly kneeling, their movements stiff and uncertain. Being from the populous southern regions, submission seemed ingrained in them. Your adventure continues at My Virtual Library Empire


    Michael observed them and spoke gently, avoiding excessive intimidation.


    "That''s enough. Merchant, here''s a letter for my father. Present it at Crassus Castle to receive your payment."


    Taking the letter, the merchant bowed deeply.


    "Thank you, my lord. I''ll take my leave now. Don''t worry about the serfs¡ªthey''ve been trained on the way here. They''ll obey without issue."


    Relief was evident on the merchant''s face as he departed, pleased with the smooth transaction.


    "By the way, did you see any caravans transporting magical beasts along the way?" Michael asked.


    The merchant paused to think before clapping his hands.


    "Ah, yes! A few days ago, I passed a caravan transporting magical beasts. They must be headed here."


    "Good to know. They''ll arrive soon. Thank you for the information."


    "Not at all, my lord. I''ll see you again if fortune permits," the merchant said, departing with a polite bow.


    Michael turned his attention back to the serfs. They looked exhausted, their sunken faces and hollow eyes bearing the weight of their arduous journey. Clearly, they needed rest and care before beginning work.


    He instructed the soldiers to organize the serfs into groups of 100. Some resisted, fearing separation from their families, but quieted when reassured they''d reunite in the village.


    From Miaomiao''s back, Michael watched the long line of serfs winding through the gorge. Even with 22 casualties among the elderly and infirm, the survivors bore clear signs of the journey''s hardships. Clutching their meager belongings, they trudged forward, their eyes filled with uncertainty.


    Michael, having arrived in the village ahead of them, called for Julian and Arnan.


    "The livestock has been sent to the highlands with the shepherds. The serfs will arrive shortly," Michael informed them.


    "They''ll be exhausted. It''s best to let them rest first," Arnan said, his tone filled with compassion for the weary serfs.


    "I agree. Assign them small tents by family and provide proper meals," Michael said.


    Julian raised a practical concern.


    "Shall we place their homes near the farms? Repairs there may take some time."


    "Yes," Michael agreed after a moment''s thought. "I don''t want them living in makeshift shacks or hovels like before. Let''s reinforce the buildings properly during the repairs, and ensure they have plenty of food."


    His reasoning was pragmatic¡ªpoor living conditions led to disease, which in turn reduced productivity. A baseline standard of living was essential for maximizing efficiency. Humans weren''t machines, after all.


    Misinterpreting his practicality as altruism, Arnan looked at Michael with admiration.


    What a kind and noble leader, he thought. A true ruler worthy of loyalty.


    Arnan silently vowed to support Michael with unwavering devotion.

 Chapter 104 Ethan

    Ethan''s life, as the sixth son of a serf family in the southern territories, had always been harsh. Born into poverty, he matured early, understanding his responsibilities as a child of meager means. To avoid angering his perpetually irritated father, Ethan diligently completed his assigned tasks and never neglected to help his frail mother, worn out from numerous childbirths.


    Though four more siblings were born after him, only one brother and two sisters survived. Despite days spent toiling in the fields until his bones ached, the family subsisted on rough bread mixed with sand¡ªand even that was a luxury.


    At sixteen, Ethan married his childhood friend, Anna, from the neighboring house. However, the sweetness of their newlywed life was short-lived, ending with the stillbirth of their first child. The hard labor Anna endured during her pregnancy, coupled with poor nutrition, had taken its toll.


    Anna fell into a deep depression, her vitality gradually fading.


    "Why the fuss? A baby dies, and she collapses? She''s got it easy, hasn''t she?" whispered the villagers, their hearts hardened by unending labor and loss.


    Though Anna eventually recovered, her weakened body could not regain its former strength. To support her, Ethan worked even harder. Slowly, her smiles returned.


    But one day, when things seemed to be improving, a farm overseer''s subordinate brought crushing news.


    "Ethan, you''ve been reassigned to the rocky fields. Just a heads-up."


    "What? But¡­ we''ve already finished planting," Ethan protested.


    "Come on now, you know no one will buy those rocky fields. It means you''ll be sold off soon," the man replied bluntly.


    "And my parents? My wife?" Ethan asked, panic creeping into his voice.


    "The elderly and weak women won''t be sold. Your wife will probably remarry some widower in the village, and your brother can take care of your parents."


    Ethan''s thoughts flashed to his older brother, who had returned from the lord''s war with one arm. Despite his efforts, his harvest was half of what others managed. After taxes and tributes to the lord, he often relied on handouts from Ethan and their married sisters.


    And Anna? Could he really leave her to marry someone else? He pictured her shy smile from their wedding night.


    No. Never.


    "My lord, you know my brother''s condition. I''m the only one supporting my family. Please, I beg you!" Ethan pleaded.


    "Enough! The lord has already decided. You''re not the only one¡ªevery able-bodied man and unmarried woman in the village is being sold," the subordinate replied with a pitying shake of his head. Discover exclusive content at My Virtual Library Empire


    The village''s poor yield the previous year had left it vulnerable. Though the land was naturally barren, the lord needed immediate funds, and the villagers were the sacrifice.


    Ethan collapsed in despair as the cries of families being torn apart echoed throughout the village.


    Days passed in a haze of hopelessness until the subordinate returned with surprising news.


    "Ethan, I''ve got good news for you."


    Ethan, his eyes hollow and lifeless, looked up.


    "Is it time for me to be sold?"


    The man coughed awkwardly before speaking in a placating tone.


    "Not quite. The lord who purchased you is a generous man. To prevent families from being separated, he''s decided to buy the families of all his serfs as well."


    A glimmer of life returned to Ethan''s eyes.


    "Really? Then I won''t be separated from my family?"


    "That''s right. It''s a relief for me too. Prepare to leave in three days. Your one-armed brother and your sisters'' families are included. The whole village is being moved," the man explained.


    Overwhelmed with gratitude, Ethan''s tears flowed freely.


    "Thank you, my new lord¡­"


    What Ethan didn''t know was that similar scenes were unfolding across other southern estates.


    With his meticulous nature, Ethan spent the three days preparing as best as he could. While some neighbors scoffed at his efforts, others followed his example, organizing their families for the journey.


    Ethan gathered cloth to wrap their feet, stripping even the window coverings from their small home. He fashioned walking sticks that could double as weapons if needed. Into their bundles, he packed smoked meat from winter poaching¡ªenough for each family member to have a piece for strength. He even included the baby clothes of their first child, treasuring its memory.


    The journey was grueling. Some of the elderly and children died along the way, their bodies buried hastily before the group moved on.


    After countless days of walking, their destination finally came into view: the Crassus estate, accessible only through a narrow gorge.


    As they waited for their guide, Anna clutched Ethan''s sleeve, her wide eyes fixed on something in the distance. Following her gaze, Ethan saw a knight descending on a dark blue jaguar-like beast.


    "Is that an angel?" Anna whispered. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "No, it''s a magical beast. They say nobles ride those creatures," another villager murmured as the crowd began to buzz.


    Ethan, stealing a glance at the knight''s face as he dismounted, was stunned. Could someone really look like that?


    Under the soldiers'' guidance, they were led through the gorge to their new home, a place that seemed like paradise.


    Each family was assigned a tent equipped with simple beds and lockers. The beds, made from stacked logs, were both practical and efficient, as the logs could later be repurposed as firewood. Fresh straw was laid on top of the beds¡ªa luxury Anna marveled at as she ran her fingers through the clean, dry fibers.


    "That knight¡ªhe''s the heir to the Crassus estate, isn''t he?" Anna asked, her voice tinged with wonder.


    "Yes, and this place seems truly exceptional," Ethan replied.


    His older brother, Yurik, looked equally pleased. Having recently promised his future to a young widow from a neighboring estate, he was filled with hope.


    Assigned to tents near the farmland, they soon set out to work. Though the planting season had passed, the fields clearly needed extensive clearing and preparation.


    Their allocated plots were larger than what they were used to¡ªlarge enough to leave surplus even after taxes. Moreover, the taxes here were significantly lower than at their previous estate, and there was no need to pay tributes.

 Chapter 105 To Live Like Human Beings

    Even more astonishing was the news that every five families would be provided with a draft horse and ox for shared use.


    Initially, Ethan couldn''t believe it. But then Anna''s brother, Rooney, came to him, expressing skepticism.


    "Do you really believe that? They''ll probably make us pay for the animals later, leaving our descendants in endless debt."


    Ethan shook his head. "No, this estate is different. The knight¡ªthe heir¡ªpersonally issued these orders. There''s no middleman to twist things."


    Though Rooney remained cautious, Ethan allowed himself a glimmer of hope. Could this truly be a place where they could live like human beings?


    "Late arrivals might only get the leftovers, so form teams and move quickly," Ethan urged Rooney, recounting the instructions given by the estate manager. Though skeptical, Ethan approached the farm steward and returned, awestruck, with a draft horse and ox.


    It''s true!


    The only condition was that he had to feed and care for the animals during the rental period, but that was a small price to pay. The estate even provided grain for free in the first year, with the expectation that it would be repaid in installments after future harvests.


    How could such a place exist?


    By the time the land-clearing was nearly finished, news arrived that the farmhouses were ready for occupancy. When Ethan and his family entered their assigned home, they gasped in amazement.


    The brick house was clean, with sizable windows fitted with glass panes¡ªa luxury unheard of.


    Ethan''s elderly father shuffled toward one of the windows, his hands trembling.


    "This¡­ this is glass," he murmured. "The last time I saw something like this was as a child, when Father took me to the lord''s castle. To think I''d ever live in a house with glass windows¡­"


    Tears streamed down the old man''s face, and Ethan''s mother discreetly wiped her own tears.


    Ethan turned to Anna, their eyes meeting in shared joy.


    "Here," he said, smiling, "we can live like humans."


    From a distance, Julian and Arnan observed the serfs entering their new homes, their delighted exclamations reaching the two men.


    "Our hard work paid off," Arnan said quietly, his voice laced with satisfaction.


    "You''ve done so much, Sir Arnan," Julian replied, nodding in agreement.


    Julian, steadily bridging the gap between human and demon, had been learning administration, management, and politics from Arnan. He was blossoming into a capable steward.


    "I merely followed the lord''s lead," Arnan said humbly, shaking his head.


    "Our lord truly is extraordinary," Julian said, his tone filled with admiration.


    "Indeed. Large-scale production of bricks and glass¡ªwho could have imagined?" Arnan mused.


    The production had been nothing short of revolutionary. Leonardo had combined artifacts and alchemical knowledge to innovate the manufacturing process, while the mages provided magical support for key tasks, maximizing efficiency.


    "Only our lord could devise such methods," Julian agreed. "He always speaks of these things as if they''re simple, but it''s his genius at work."


    Arnan chuckled. "I used to think mages were only suited for research, yet they''ve proven remarkably practical under his direction."


    "It''s amazing how many have gathered here under his leadership, even those who avoided conscription during wartime," Julian added.


    "At first, they seemed unsure, but now they actively seek out tasks," Arnan noted, recalling the mages'' newfound enthusiasm.


    "Apparently, their magical reserves have increased significantly since working here. After focusing solely on research, applying their skills practically has enhanced their abilities," Julian explained.


    "That makes sense," Arnan said, nodding thoughtfully. "No wonder they seem so energetic lately."


    "Even the masters, after hearing from their apprentices, have joined in one by one," Julian added.


    "Ah, so that''s why the masters have been harder to find recently. They used to linger around Miaomiao and Marcus all the time," Arnan remarked with a grin.


    "Yes, Miaomiao hated it. Marcus, on the other hand, let them observe him up close as long as they offered him jewels," Julian said, laughing.


    As the discussion turned to the estate''s progress, Julian suggested, "Shall we visit the newly settled areas? We can use one of the flying beasts to get there quickly."


    After a brief moment of consideration, Arnan agreed.


    "Let''s do that. It''s time I introduced myself to the lord properly."


    Arnan smiled as he added, "But speaking of innovations, the livestock lending program is a remarkable idea. Consider this: a draft animal can plow a field in a fraction of the time it would take several people."


    Julian nodded attentively as Arnan continued. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Yet no one thought to implement such a system before. Why?"


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    Julian frowned in thought before replying, "Most lords would rather slaughter the animals for meat than lend them to serfs. After all, they see serfs as nothing more than speaking beasts."


    Arnan sighed deeply, his face darkening.


    "True. Even after a thousand years, the world hasn''t changed much."


    "Even with the growing number of mages, their contributions rarely extend beyond their own benefit. That''s why I place so much hope in our lord," Arnan said, his voice steady with conviction.


    "I feel the same," Julian replied. "I''ve learned so much under his guidance and continue to grow."


    Thinking of Michael, Julian''s eyes sparkled with renewed loyalty.


    "I''ll follow you to the ends of the earth, my lord."


    Sixty years later, Julian would curse his younger self as he sorted through mountains of paperwork, but that was a future he couldn''t foresee.


    Meanwhile, Michael, the subject of all this praise, was entirely consumed with his current task: exhuming his third corpse.


    Alfred had gone to another estate to handle execution duties, leaving Michael to work alone.


    Wiping the sweat from his brow, he muttered,


    "Why is this grave so damn deep?"


    Late into the night, the sound of Michael''s shovel slicing through the earth was the only thing breaking the silence of the dark sky.


    Not long after being revived, Rabouin was engulfed in deep despair. This was because he had learned that his wife had been executed five years after his death.

 Chapter 106 For The Sake Of Investment, Onward

    His wife, Evelyn, was fifteen years younger than him, yet she possessed wisdom and kindness far beyond her years. She wasn''t merely his wife; Evelyn was also the younger sister of a colleague and later became Rabouin''s most trusted apprentice after their marriage. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    With her radiant intellect, she was both a research partner who shared his aspirations and a beacon of hope whenever he faltered. Her words often comforted him:


    "You can do this. Just a little more effort."


    Her soft voice always managed to soothe Rabouin''s heart.


    "Why are you staring at me like that?" she once asked.


    "Because you''re so kind and beautiful," he replied.


    "Oh, you silly man," she said with a gentle laugh.


    Every time he glanced to his side during experiments, she was always there. Her eyes shone with warmth and brightness. Even when they had to use up all her dowry to fund his research, she never complained.


    "I know what''s truly important to us. Your research will change the world," she had reassured him.


    But the world did not recognize their devotion and sacrifices. Rabouin was branded a heretic by the religious elite of the Sacred Nation and was ultimately imprisoned.


    Even then, Evelyn never abandoned him. She fought with all her might to save him, striving to prove his innocence. Rabouin later learned that, while seeking support from nobles by writing petitions, Evelyn fell ill and collapsed. Despite the letter he had written to her from prison under the moonlight, urging her to live a happy life, she couldn''t forget her unworthy husband.


    "She... my Evelyn... even after my death, she campaigned to restore my honor, compiled my writings, and was captured and executed?" Rabouin asked in disbelief.


    "That''s right," replied Leonardo. "From what I know, she resisted advice to flee to another country and was executed five years later. Honestly, I can''t understand that kind of love. There are so many other things in the world to be obsessed with!"


    Rabouin despaired. Was it wrong to seek out traces of his past? Was it wrong to hope that her final days weren''t miserable? Leonardo''s tactless revelation left him crushed.


    For days, Rabouin couldn''t bring himself to return to his beloved experiments. It was then that Michael, who had been preoccupied with overseeing the resumption of mining operations and arranging laborers, rushed to his side upon hearing that Rabouin was accomplishing nothing and only crying.


    "What''s the matter with you, Rabouin?" Michael asked in astonishment. The sight of the middle-aged man weeping with tears and snot running down his face was both pitiful and comedic, especially with his powdered wig.


    Between sobs, Rabouin managed to stammer, "M-my... my wife... Evelyn! My poor Evelyn!" before breaking into wails again. Michael glanced at Leonardo, prompting him to explain reluctantly.


    "Well... I thoughtlessly told him that his wife had also been executed. But it''s not like I could lie, could I?" Leonardo defended himself.


    Realizing the gravity of the situation, Michael raised his voice. "How could you leave him like this? You should have told me sooner!"


    Leonardo was aghast. "That''s absurd! Why would the master waste his powers reviving some ordinary human?"


    Before the argument could continue, Rabouin, his face streaked with tears, clung desperately to Michael''s trousers. "Please! Bring my wife back! I''ll do anything you ask. I hesitated before, but if you want gunpowder, I''ll make it. I''d even blow up the Papacy for her. My wife was an exceptional person. She always helped me with my experiments."


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    And so, Michael found himself digging up Evelyn''s grave. Nobles'' bodies, especially those executed, were often buried deeper to prevent desecration. Evelyn''s grave was no exception.


    "If I''d known, I would''ve brought Rabouin with me," Michael muttered regretfully as he gripped the shovel tighter. There was no choice but to keep digging.


    The reunion of the couple was tearful. Evelyn, now revived, was a petite woman with soft, golden hair, looking at least twenty years younger than the middle-aged Rabouin. But if they were happy, that was all that mattered.


    Revitalized, Rabouin threw himself into his work. Evelyn, as a revived entity, had gained the power to catalyze chemical reactions, a perfect complement to Rabouin''s abilities. Together, their experiments reached new heights.


    The laboratory, set up in the northern annex of the castle, frequently echoed with explosive sounds. Had they not been demonic beings, the two would have perished ten times over. The resident cat, Miaomiao, hissed at the latest explosion.


    "How do they expect anyone to nap with all this racket?" she grumbled.


    "Want me to set fire to it, big sis?" Marcus, her companion, asked.


    "That''d just make it worse! Use your brain for once!" she retorted, batting his head with her paw.


    Michael chuckled and offered them custom-made earmuffs. "The louder it is, the better they''re doing. Be patient. Here, take these earmuffs."


    Though intrigued, the two were reminded of their duties. Michael firmly reminded them, "Finish your work first. We''re supposed to check the mine today."


    Grumbling, Marcus prepared to leave while Miaomiao, pretending to nap, found herself hoisted onto Michael''s shoulder.


    "What''s this? Put me down!" she hissed.


    Ignoring her protests, Michael walked on. She eventually gave in with a resigned sigh.


    "No one in this world is as pitiful as me," she lamented.


    Michael laughed lightly. "What nonsense. You''re on your way to being the richest sphinx ever."


    The thought cheered her up instantly. "You''re right! For the sake of investment, onward!"


    Here''s the translation with the shift to third-person narrative while retaining the original length and tone:


    Feeling a pang of guilt, Michael averted his gaze. I really need to establish that investment bank soon...


    As Michael and his group prepared for takeoff in the clearing, a group of knights approached them, visibly fuming. Leading the group was Sir Benjamin, the master of a Rank-3 magical beast, Hydra. His face was clouded with displeasure.


    "Sir Michael! What kind of mischief have you been stirring up with our magical beasts?" Benjamin demanded.

 Chapter 107 We Want Private Property Too

    Michael''s eyes widened in surprise. "What are you talking about?"


    Nearby, both Miaomiao and Marcus momentarily avoided eye contact, their behavior suspicious. Benjamin continued his protest.


    "My Hydra has started protesting, demanding wages! And it''s not just him¡ªother magical beasts are doing the same!"


    From a distance, the Hydra and other magical beasts peeked out, observing the situation. Realizing what had happened, Michael''s lips curved into a faint smile.


    "Well, it seems even magical beasts have come to recognize their worth."


    Seeing Michael''s reaction wasn''t outright negative, Miaomiao and Marcus perked up, chiming in support.


    [That''s right! Hydra, Pegasus, they''ve been serving the same family for over 300 years. And yet, they''ve never even touched a single gold coin! Isn''t that outrageous?]


    {Exactly! We haven''t even worked for a year, and we''ve already earned... how much again?}


    Marcus began trying to count his accumulated gold using his claws, but it proved to be a futile effort. Michael interjected with a grin.


    "Don''t worry about your gold. I''ve been investing it wisely, and it''s growing every day."


    Satisfied by Michael''s reassurance, Miaomiao and Marcus nodded approvingly. Michael then turned to Benjamin and the other knights. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "I used to think only my dragons and sphinxes cared for gold, but it seems other magical beasts feel the same. Why not simply pay them a fair wage?"


    Benjamin looked bewildered, struggling to refute. "Why in the world would magical beasts need wages? We provide them with food and shelter already..." Your next chapter is on My Virtual Library Empire


    Miaomiao and Marcus stepped forward in unison, exuding an imposing presence that caused the knights to retreat slightly.


    [Excuse me? If that''s your argument, why do you live in large houses and hoard wealth you''ll never fully use? By your logic, you''re stockpiling grain and cattle you''ll never consume in a lifetime. Isn''t that just as pointless?]


    Miaomiao''s sharp words hit their mark, and Benjamin faltered, stumbling over his response. "W-well, that''s private property, and..."


    [We want private property too. With it, we can buy jewels whenever we like, and we won''t have to wait for someone to bring us food.]


    Other magical beasts nodded in agreement as Miaomiao spoke without hesitation. Michael, observing her with pride, envisioned the beasts eventually investing in his future institution.


    Magical beasts, with their near-immortal lifespans barring accidents, would not only earn wages but could become a reliable source of revenue for the domain. Given that they already received sustenance from their affiliated families, it was unlikely they would withdraw their investments. If they did, returning their gold with moderate interest would suffice.


    Most magical beasts, Michael noted, were highly intelligent. Though exceptions like Marcus existed, beasts ranked 7 or higher could communicate fluently, and even lower-ranked ones understood instructions well. Convincing them of the long-term benefits of investment would not be difficult.


    Intimidated by Miaomiao''s imposing presence, the knights grumbled as they departed, muttering about the absurdity of having to determine wages for magical beasts.


    "This is utterly ridiculous..." one knight complained, only to be glared at by his contracted magical beast. Flustered, the knight hurried to placate his beast.


    Watching their retreating figures, Michael and Marcus soared into the sky.


    Michael pondered who might best handle the establishment of his investment bank as they approached the mine entrance. The once-abandoned mine had undergone a remarkable transformation, bustling with energy and the sounds of activity.


    The miners who had returned to Iron Valley wore bright expressions. They hadn''t left their homeland because the work was hard, but because there was no hope.


    What could miners do with an ownerless mine? Secretly extract ore and sell it? No one had a death wish. For these men and women, raised in the mines since childhood, regaining their jobs brought immense joy.


    Even non-miners could now work without a lengthy apprenticeship, thanks to Michael''s revolutionary system. Wearing magically enhanced helmets inspired by modern safety gear, the miners entered the shafts with confidence, singing praises for Michael.


    "This helmet is incredible. No more carrying torches around!"


    "Right? And look at this thing called a drill. We used to heat rocks and douse them with water to crack them, but now iron ore falls right out when we use this. How did Sir Michael even come up with this?"


    "That''s why he''s a man of greatness. We simple folk could never manage something like this."


    Miaomiao, with her sharp hearing, relayed the conversations to Michael, who smiled in satisfaction. Pushing Leonardo to develop the drill had been the right decision. With Rabouin working on gunpowder, mining would soon become even more efficient.


    The mining process itself had also become more streamlined. Experienced miners now partnered with Marcus to identify optimal excavation sites. Once marked, Miaomiao and the recently arrived Rank-9 magical beast, Great Worm, entered to carve out the tunnels.


    As the Great Worm burrowed through the mountains, Miaomiao followed, fortifying the walls¡ªa task befitting the descendant of sphinxes who once built and guarded the tombs of ancient gods.


    Next, miners trained in using drills broke through rocks, while others wielding picks, crowbars, hammers, and chisels extracted iron ore. The ore was then collected into carts and transported out of the mine for sorting.


    Previously, miners apprenticed under a single master and handled every stage of the process. With the new division of labor, speed increased, and even novices could quickly become proficient.


    Michael inspected the sorted iron ore. Its brownish hue indicated mediocre quality, sufficient for farm tools or low-grade weaponry. With demand for such items still high, it would suffice for now. High-quality iron could be extracted once the war ended.


    He recalled a letter he had recently received from Princess Astrid. Written on delicate, rose-embellished paper with a faint fragrance, it conveyed her regards and a warning that war would break out within two months.


    "This is why connections are invaluable," Michael mused, a smile tugging at his lips. Two months would be enough time to relocate his people and prepare for war.


    As he stood lost in thought, a man suddenly came rushing out of the mine, shouting, "Sir! Please come here for a moment!"

 Chapter 108 Inside the Mine

    The man running toward Michael was out of breath, unable to speak for a moment. After pausing to catch his breath, he glanced around cautiously and lowered his voice.


    "Sir, I''ve discovered something incredible."


    Michael led the man into a quiet office to avoid prying eyes. "What is it? Take your time and explain."


    The miner''s eyes sparkled as he began recounting the events. "I was hard at work, using the magical drill to break through the rock wall, when I noticed something odd. Normally, there''s a consistent resistance when drilling into the rock, but this time, it felt different¡ªsubtly so."


    The man hesitated briefly, watching Michael''s reaction before continuing. "As I kept drilling around that area, I felt faint vibrations. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but then I placed my hand on the rock and realized I could feel a very faint breeze. I''m certain there''s another space behind the wall." Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After finishing his explanation, the miner looked up with a proud expression.


    "Are you absolutely sure? This wasn''t just a mistake?" Michael asked in a calm but serious tone.


    The miner''s face stiffened for a moment before he responded confidently. "I may not look like it, but I''m a Grade-2 miner from North Valley, personally selected by the previous lord. North Valley had a similar spot where a breeze was felt through the rock, and when we dug it up, there was a massive cavern."


    Hearing this, Michael fell silent, deep in thought. North Valley was a complex iron mine, and a miner who had worked there could be considered trustworthy.


    Eventually, Michael rose from his seat and made a decision. Calling over the mining supervisor, he issued a command. "Suspend all mining operations for now. There seems to be an issue in the mine."


    The supervisor hesitated briefly but soon began clearing out the miners. Once the mine was quiet, Michael and the reporting miner ventured inside.


    The mine was dark, and the air was thick with dust, despite the use of ventilation magic. After walking for some time, the miner finally stopped and pointed at a rock wall marked with a small X.


    "It''s here," he said.


    Michael carefully extended his hand, feeling the cold breeze seeping through the cracks in the rock.


    "What do you think? You can feel the breeze, right?" the miner asked, his voice trembling with excitement.


    Michael nodded. This was indeed a significant discovery. "Has anyone else besides you learned of this?" he asked, his gaze sharp.


    The miner, sensing Michael''s intensity, instinctively lowered his head. A cold sweat broke out as he noticed the soldiers guarding the mine''s entrance. Is he planning to silence me? Should I make a run for it?


    Panicking, the miner hastily protested, "I swear, I haven''t told anyone! My lips are sealed. Please, believe me, sir! I won''t say a word to anyone, ever!"


    Desperate, the miner prostrated himself, trembling in fear and cursing his loose tongue. Why didn''t I just keep this to myself? Now my family might get dragged into this and killed because of me...


    Michael snapped his fingers, and from the shadows emerged Isfer, who had been quietly guarding him. At Michael''s gesture, Isfer deftly struck the back of the miner''s neck, rendering him unconscious.


    "Take him to my tent in the village and keep him under watch. When Leonardo arrives, have him cast an illusion and place the man under hypnosis. He''ll need to be rewarded appropriately for his discovery."


    Isfer nodded silently, lifting the limp miner and disappearing into the shadows. As a transformed demonic being, Isfer could remain concealed in the darkness indefinitely.


    Contrary to the miner''s fears, Michael intended to reward him generously. However, the existence of this cavern had to remain a secret.


    Michael''s thoughts turned to the underground temple he had discovered near the lake. According to Lucrezia, the temple had been built atop an ancient magic circle. If so, there was a strong possibility that something significant lay beneath this mine as well.


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    "What do you think, Miaomiao?" he asked.


    [We absolutely have to dig. If you can feel air moving through cracked stone, it''s either a cavern or another passageway.]


    Michael called over Marcus, who had shrunk to a smaller form and was closely examining the breezy spot, even licking it out of curiosity.


    "Marcus, didn''t you sense anything unusual here during previous surveys?" Michael asked.


    [Nope. I didn''t feel anything back then, and honestly, I don''t feel much now except for the breeze.]


    That could only mean one thing: a concealed space. Whatever lay beyond the wall was likely hidden by a powerful barrier or shielding magic, impervious to ordinary detection.


    "All right, let''s dig," Michael decided.


    [Great! Call the Great Worm already,] Miaomiao said, her whiskers twitching with excitement as she rolled her paws eagerly.


    Michael grabbed Miaomiao gently, meeting her gaze. "It''s too risky for Marcus to handle this alone. Go fetch the Great Worm from the nearby forest. It''s rested enough; just bring the first one you find."


    Grumbling, Miaomiao stalked off into the shadows. Watching her small, lithe form disappear, Michael sighed internally. I should have brought my other retainers...


    Unfortunately, everyone had their roles. His retainers were preoccupied with training soldiers and preparing for the population''s relocation. Michael lamented the perpetual shortage of capable hands.


    Before long, a well-trained Great Worm emerged, writhing under the control of the beast-tamer mages. Michael offered the Worm a special treat prepared by the mage guild. The creature squirmed with delight as it consumed the treat, indicating its satisfaction.


    Michael patted its forehead and softly instructed, "Dig here carefully. There''s likely a cavern inside, so be cautious not to cause a collapse."


    Though unable to speak, the Great Worm understood human language. It nodded slightly before starting its work. As its massive head approached the wall, it began secreting acid. The moment the acid touched the rock, faint smoke rose, and the solid surface quickly melted into a sticky fluid.

 Chapter 109 Gargoyles

    The Worm sucked up the molten rock like a straw, revealing a smooth, glistening tunnel. According to the beast-tamer mages, the Worm would later regurgitate the ingested rock as hardened crystalline forms in about five to six hours.


    As the Great Worm finished its work, Miaomiao approached the newly dug area. She extended a paw to the ground, and a faint glow spread out from her paw pads, solidifying the terrain in an instant. Finally, it was safe to descend.


    Michael smiled in satisfaction as he glanced at the Worm. When it wriggled its massive body, Michael pulled out another treat and placed it into the Worm''s mouth. The Worm squirmed happily and affectionately nudged Michael with its head.


    "Well done. Thank you so much," Michael said, pulling out a 10-gold voucher and tucking it into the pouch around the Worm''s neck.


    Under their contract, the Worms were paid 5 gold monthly, with an additional 10 gold for every mining tunnel they excavated. As expected, magical beasts were highly responsive to gold. All three Great Worms had accepted these terms and signed contracts with Michael. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Considering the typical success rate of magical beast contracts was only about 30%, this was an impressive feat. While using magic could boost success rates to nearly 100%, such contracts often extracted less than half the beasts'' full strength.


    During the signing, Michael had presented the Worms with gold-trimmed vouchers and delivered a year''s wages in a gleaming tin chest, promising that the vouchers could be exchanged for gold at any time. The Worms had gazed at the silver tin with rapture, their excitement evident.


    Watching this, Marcus and Miaomiao had grown envious and requested their own vouchers in exchange for their gold and jewels. They had competed eagerly to collect more, much to Michael''s amusement.


    Now, Michael and Miaomiao peered into the hole the Worm had created, ready to explore the mysterious underground space. Adjusting the magical miner''s helmet snugly on his head, Michael took a deep breath and climbed onto Marcus''s back.


    Marcus gripped the edge of the hole with his claws, his thick tail maintaining balance. Step by step, he descended into the dark shaft until they entered the cavern, where he spread his wings and soared upward.


    Michael looked down, his eyes widening at the sight before him. Beneath them was a massive underground chamber. The floor was unexpectedly smooth, and in one corner lay an underground lake.


    His gaze shifted to the corners of the cavern, where ancient statues stood. Despite the passage of time, the statues radiated a powerful presence.


    Approaching one of the statues, Michael examined the lamp it held. The lamp had a glass door, and the central compartment was empty. Reaching into his spatial ring, Michael pulled out a mana stone. He opened the glass door and placed the stone inside. With a soft pop, the lamp emitted a brilliant light.


    One by one, he repeated this process with the other statues, each lamp illuminating as he inserted mana stones. The cavern grew brighter with each activation, leaving Michael and Miaomiao momentarily speechless as they took in the grand space.


    Regaining his composure, Michael addressed his companions. "Let''s move further in."


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    [Right. I don''t sense any immediate danger, but we should stay cautious,] Miaomiao replied.


    Raising a paw, she cast protective magic over Michael and Marcus, enveloping them in faint shields. Together, they ventured deeper into the cavern.


    The statues were spaced approximately 200 meters apart. Michael continued placing mana stones into the lamps as they progressed, the increasing light reinforcing his conviction.


    This place wasn''t natural¡ªit was artificially constructed. The walls were unnaturally smooth, and the air circulation was too deliberate to be coincidental. The passage ahead had clearly been crafted by human hands.


    Michael continued forward, his curiosity mounting. Suddenly, the tunnel widened, revealing a group of statues resembling magical beasts. These statues, approximately 2.5 meters tall, bore a striking resemblance to winged dinosaurs.


    The beasts had their wings folded, their sharp claws embedded in the floor as they stood watchful, their expressions stern.


    [Miaomiao, Marcus, hold your ground. These are Rank-6 magical beasts¡ªGargoyles,] Miaomiao warned.


    She began chanting in an ancient tongue. As the chant echoed through the cavern, the statues'' eyes glowed red, and their sharp claws slowly detached from the walls.


    With a resounding thud, a dozen gargoyles descended from their pedestals, landing on the ground. They immediately turned to Miaomiao, bowing deeply in submission.


    [We greet the guardian of the tomb, the great Sphinx. At last, you have come for us,] they said in unison.


    The tension in Miaomiao''s posture eased, and Michael let out a quiet sigh of relief.


    "What did you just do?" Michael asked, curious.


    [The gargoyles are vassals of our lineage. It''s an ancient pact. I simply awakened them,] Miaomiao explained.


    Michael''s expression brightened. He imagined these magnificent creatures adorning the castle, coming to life to defend it against enemies.


    "Yes, this is perfect! Let''s take them all," he declared enthusiastically.


    Miaomiao nodded in agreement. [Once awakened, it''s only right to take responsibility. I am Nefertari Hatshepsut Sphinx, a noble of the Sphinx lineage. From now on, you are my subordinates. Follow me.]


    The gargoyles glanced at one another before awkwardly shuffling forward. Upon closer inspection, their wide, innocent eyes and stout, winged dinosaur-like bodies exuded an unexpected charm.


    Michael, overcome with emotion, gazed at them fondly. Finally, he thought, I have my own dinosaurs!


    Despite their fearsome appearance, the gargoyles displayed remarkable composure and spoke with an air of antiquity.


    [It has been countless years. It is only right that we now serve a new master. I am Garett, the chieftain of the Guardian Clan. We all share the same name, so you may address all of us, myself included, as Garett.]


    The thought of using the gargoyles as sentinels for his estate brought a smile to Michael''s face. Turning to Garett, he asked, "Why were you guarding this place? What was it used for?"

 Chapter 110 Ancient Tomb

    [This is the stone tomb of an ancient god. I served alongside Lord Akhenaten Memphis Sphinx to protect this site,] Garett replied.


    Miaomiao, who had been sitting quietly on Michael''s shoulder, suddenly leapt to the ground. Startled, Michael glanced at her, but her focus was locked on Garett.


    [Akhenaten Memphis Sphinx? Did you truly serve him?] she asked, her usual playful tone entirely absent, replaced by an uncharacteristic gravity.


    Noticing the tension, Michael decided to stay silent and observe their exchange.


    [Indeed, we all served Lord Akhenaten. Do you know of him?] Garett inquired.


    Miaomiao''s eyes shimmered with sorrow. Michael, alarmed by her expression, tried to calm her, but she drew a deep breath and spoke in a trembling voice.


    [Michael, Akhenaten Memphis Sphinx was my grandfather. He disappeared fifteen thousand years ago. Neither I nor my father ever had the chance to meet him. Do you have any idea what happened to him?]


    Garett and the other gargoyles silently knelt again, their gestures conveying deep reverence as though they had finally met their rightful master.


    [To think you are truly our master''s descendant. It is an honor to meet you, Lady Nefertari. While guarding this tomb, a group of individuals arrived seeking Lord Akhenaten. After much deliberation, he left with them,] Garett explained.


    Miaomiao''s voice trembled as she asked, [Who were these people who came for my grandfather?]


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    Garett took a moment to recall. [They were diverse¡ªhumans, dragons, the forest clans, and the earth clans. They mentioned a gathering of many races to discuss a matter of grave importance for the continent''s survival.]


    His eyes grew distant as he continued. [Lord Akhenaten left with them, instructing us to protect the tomb. Later, he returned with a new group. We wished to accompany him, but he deemed it too dangerous. He sealed us here and ventured inside. He never emerged. When the bond of his spirit was severed, we knew¡­]


    Garett''s voice trailed off, heavy with grief. Miaomiao turned to Michael, her face etched with sadness.


    [He was the strongest of the Sphinx lineage. Something must have gone terribly wrong. Are you certain no one else emerged from the tomb?]


    Garett nodded solemnly. [No one. We have waited here, sealed, for our master to return and awaken us. But none came out.]


    The other gargoyles nodded in unison, their movements synchronized like a disciplined army.


    Miaomiao looked back at Michael, determination burning in her eyes. [I must confirm my grandfather''s fate. The core of the Sphinx cannot simply be left unclaimed. There must be a reason I was drawn here. It is his call for me to recover the core.]


    Michael nodded, understanding the necessity of continuing their exploration. Relieved, Miaomiao resumed her questioning.


    [Do you remember anything else?]


    [After Lord Akhenaten and his companions entered the depths, there was a massive surge of mana. The ground shook briefly before the outer parts of the tomb were sealed. It was undoubtedly his sealing magic. He seemed to have blocked the path to the sea, but the reason remains unclear. Perhaps he simply wanted to ensure this place remained hidden,] Garett replied.


    Miaomiao placed a paw on Michael''s shoulder, her voice thoughtful. [Between the magic circle at the lake and this place, it seems the continent''s strongest beings gathered to seal a volcano. If that volcano had erupted, the entire continent would have been affected. The body of an ancient god would have been an immense source of mana¡ªa power they likely harnessed to activate the magic circle.]


    Michael looked at her, intrigued. "A source of mana?" S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Miaomiao nodded, her tone returning to its usual playful cadence as she explained. [Exactly. That''s why our Sphinx clan guarded the tomb. So many invaders targeted these tombs that our numbers dwindled. Now, no other tombs remain.]


    Michael''s shoulders slumped at the revelation. Sensing his dismay, Miaomiao gently patted him with her paw.


    [Don''t lose hope. Ancient gods'' tombs were always buried with vast treasures. Even a mundane item from that era would sell for a fortune. It''s worth looking forward to,] she said, smiling as Michael''s spirits visibly lifted.


    [And remember, my grandfather took our family''s heirloom with him. If we find him, we''ll find the treasure too. Stay strong! Oh, and if I absorb his core, I''ll become at least twice as powerful!]


    The mention of the Sphinx heirloom and a stronger Miaomiao filled Michael with excitement. His mind raced with possibilities.


    "Garett, do you know the layout of this place?" Michael asked.


    Standing rigidly, Garett replied, [I do not know everything, but I am familiar with the general structure. Beyond the tomb lies a coastal cave where seawater flows in and out. I have not ventured further.]


    Michael was astonished. "This place is connected to the sea?"


    [Yes. It takes about two hours of flight from here to reach it. The tide flows in and out at intervals. Although I''ve never ventured outside, Lord Akhenaten often went there for fresh air. I suppose now he was visiting his family,] Garett said nonchalantly.


    Michael was exhilarated by this unexpected revelation. He knew that beyond the Iron Valley''s lake and mountain ranges lay the ocean, but the journey over the mountains took over five days and was fraught with high-level beasts.


    If this passage could serve as a direct route to the sea, it would provide a significant strategic advantage. His mind swirled with plans involving maritime access.


    Exchanging a glance with Miaomiao, Michael and the group took flight, heading toward the ancient god''s tomb. Previously cautious in their approach, they now moved with purpose.


    As Michael glanced at Miaomiao wiping her eyes with her paw, her face seemed even more somber.


    [I thought knowing his fate would bring me peace, but my heart feels heavier. I don''t even know how to explain this to my grandmother or father,] she confessed, her voice laden with sorrow.


    Michael gently patted her back, wishing to console her but unsure of what to say. Moments like these reminded him of his emotional shortcomings. Despite his progress, there was still much to learn.


    Seeing his concern, Miaomiao suddenly straightened and shouted confidently.


    [Enough moping around! Let''s stay strong!] Miaomiao suddenly shouted, her voice brimming with determination.

 Chapter 111 Loot

    Michael and Marcus both turned to look at her. Seeing her usual spark return to her eyes, they couldn''t help but smile.


    The path to the tomb was uneventful but felt long. Michael''s gaze occasionally drifted to Garett''s plump tail, which twitched every time the gargoyle flapped his wings. He couldn''t help but feel a swell of pride¡ªhis own squadron of winged beasts! These gargoyles were far more majestic and imposing than any pterodactyl, making his heart swell with excitement.


    After flying for a while, Garett folded his wings and descended to the ground. [You mentioned seeking the grave goods, correct?]


    Marcus, hovering briefly in the air, chose a suitable landing spot. [We''re here. Even if the body is no longer present, we should proceed with reverence. From the aura I sense, it seems the divine remains have indeed vanished.]


    Michael nodded, as this was more or less what he expected.


    [Michael! We''re splitting whatever we find here evenly, right?] Miaomiao asked, her tone mischievous.


    Michael gave her a look, realizing how deeply entrenched she had become in her capitalistic tendencies.


    [Of course! Since we came here together, it''s only fair to divide the loot equally,] Marcus chimed in, his nostrils flaring with excitement.


    Watching Marcus''s enthusiasm, Michael briefly wondered if he was corrupting his companions. Still, he nodded with a proud expression. After all, he could distribute vouchers as their share later. Keeping everyone motivated was a win-win.


    Garett led them through a labyrinth of passages to a stone chamber. [Taking a different route or entering the wrong chamber would have triggered significant consequences. While those safeguards are currently inactive, Lady Nefertari''s blood on the Guardian Stone will allow us to reactivate them. It would also unseal the coastal cave.]


    Michael marveled. Modern magic paled in comparison to the wonders of ancient sorcery. He now understood why Leonardo''s skills as an artifact craftsman had improved so dramatically after studying ancient ruins.


    When Michael entered the chamber, he felt a pang of disappointment. A beautifully carved sarcophagus sat in the center, its lid ajar and its interior empty. There were no grave goods in sight.


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    The sarcophagus was massive, large enough to accommodate two people. It was clearly meant to house the divine remains.


    "Ah... There''s nothing here," Michael muttered, crestfallen.


    At that moment, Garett pressed a brick on the wall with his plump forepaw. The wall trembled and began to rise, revealing a hidden chamber bathed in a dazzling light. Dozens of magical lamps embedded in the ceiling illuminated the space so brightly it was almost blinding.


    As Michael squinted to adjust, he spotted Marcus rolling gleefully on a large golden-threaded carpet. The carpet, approximately five meters long and 2.5 meters wide, seemed to bring Marcus immense joy.


    Ignoring Marcus''s antics, Michael approached the rows of chests placed on the carpet. The first row contained ornate wooden boxes filled with dishes, plates, and cups, all meticulously packed. The next row held garments woven with gold and silver threads, adorned with jewels. Beyond that were accessories, somewhat crude in design but possessing a certain charm.


    [The ancients believed that even gods who had died would someday return. Hence, they buried essential items with them, all of the highest quality,] Garett explained.


    Michael nodded, recalling that ancient gods, like humans, were beings capable of love and death. New gods had eventually emerged, eradicating the old ones, only for those new gods to be destroyed by the Radiance.


    He carefully placed the chests into his spatial ring, musing that these antiques might fetch higher prices than gemstones. Marcus, meanwhile, was still sprawled on the carpet.


    When Michael tugged at the carpet, Marcus looked up with dazed eyes and asked, [C-can I keep this?]


    Smiling indulgently, Michael stowed the carpet in his spatial ring. [I''ll make a replica for your nest later. For now, let me hold onto it.]


    The carpet, being made of gold thread, appealed to Marcus not for its antiquity but for its material, making it an easy compromise. Michael then opened the next set of chests.


    Inside were seven crates brimming with weapons and armor: swords, bows, spears, war hammers, shields, full plate armor, and barding for mounts. Each piece gleamed, enchanted with preservation magic. When Michael pulled out a finger-length sword, it instantly reverted to its original size.


    Spotting the armor and barding, Michael couldn''t suppress a cry of delight. There were at least a hundred sets¡ªmore than enough to outfit a unit of heavy cavalry.


    Heavy cavalry! A dream come true! he thought, raising his fists in triumph. Combined with his gargoyle squadron, he felt confident that this force could dominate any battlefield.


    Watching Michael brim with joy, Marcus peeked into one of the chests out of curiosity. Finding the contents uninteresting, he flopped back onto the floor with a huff. Meanwhile, Michael finished packing away the weapons and armor and turned his attention to the next set of chests.


    The three chests before him were clearly special, each adorned with intricate carvings and luxurious embellishments. The ancient engravings on each chest were distinct, hinting at their unique origins and raising his anticipation.


    Michael opened the first chest. Inside lay a pair of earrings¡ªone set with a ruby as red as blood, the other with a sapphire as blue as the sea. The jewels emitted an otherworldly glow, their mystical energy almost palpable. S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Miaomiao''s voice trembled as she spoke. [Wow, those are the Earrings of Ines, the Goddess of Love, and Castro, the God of War! So, my grandfather was guarding gods like Ines and Castro!]


    "Ines and Castro?" Michael asked, his curiosity piqued.


    Her eyes sparkled with reverence and astonishment. She continued, [Yes, they were lovers. During the war of the gods, Ines was ambushed and killed. Driven mad with grief, Castro carried her body into battle, seeking revenge. After avenging her, he ended his own life. They were buried facing each other, wishing to see each other''s faces first when they were reborn. Isn''t that romantic?]


    Miaomiao clasped her paws over her chest, her expression dreamy as she recounted the tale. Her voice carried an air of admiration for their love and tragedy.

 Chapter 112 Eahs Shield

    Michael, however, remained indifferent. He remembered who the gods were.


    "They both had spouses, didn''t they? So, this is just the tragic end of an affair."


    The supposedly romantic story left Michael unfazed.


    Miaomiao hissed in frustration. [Hiss! You''re so... unromantic!]


    "Romance doesn''t pay the bills. I prefer focusing on reality," Michael replied casually, continuing to examine the earrings.


    Exasperated, Miaomiao thumped her chest with her paw. [Poor Princess Astrid, poor her!]


    Ignoring her complaints, Michael changed the subject. "So, do you know what these artifacts do?"


    Miaomiao regained her composure and answered confidently, [Of course! These are the ''Whisper of Tears'' earrings. Whoever wears one can communicate with the other, no matter the distance.]


    Michael''s eyes widened in excitement. Communication! He had tried to commission something like this from Leonardo, but even he couldn''t create such an artifact. The possibilities for its use were endless. For once, the fallout of an affair seemed useful.


    "By the way, if Ines and Castro were buried here together, the intruders who tried to raid the tomb must have been formidable. Your grandfather must''ve been incredibly strong to guard it," Michael remarked, subtly shifting the topic.


    Pleased by the compliment, Miaomiao lifted her chin. [Of course! I come from a distinguished Sphinx lineage. You''d best treat me with respect!]


    "Yes, yes, understood," Michael replied, tucking the embarrassingly named earrings into his spatial ring. He then opened the next chest.


    "What about this one?" Michael asked, holding a palm-sized stone tablet. sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Miaomiao''s eyes lit up. [That''s great too! It''s an essential artifact for war¡ªEah''s Shield.]


    "Eah''s Shield?" Michael echoed.


    [Yes. It was a gift from Eah, the Goddess of Earth, to Ines. Pour your blood into it, and the shield will bind to you. You can then summon an impenetrable barrier twice a day in a designated area. It could protect your new castle and the attached village!]


    Michael was awestruck. Such an artifact was almost too good to be true!


    "These artifacts must remain a secret. If anyone found out about them, they''d lose their minds," Michael remarked.


    Miaomiao nodded seriously. [You''re right. Unless it''s an absolute emergency, we shouldn''t use them. Ancient gods'' artifacts always attract bloodshed. When the owner dies, they return to their original location. Only a few remain on the continent.]


    "Then why not just find them at their original locations?" Michael asked.


    [It''s not that simple. We were only able to access this one because of the guardians'' cooperation,] Miaomiao explained with a cautious tone.


    Michael nodded in understanding. The rarer the artifact, the harder it was to obtain.


    Using his sword, Michael pricked his finger and let his blood drip onto the stone tablet. The tablet glowed brightly before transforming into a shield and merging with Michael''s palm. Concentrating, Michael summoned the shield again, watching it materialize with satisfaction before storing it.


    Next, Michael approached the final chest. Inside was a pair of plain black gloves, devoid of any decoration. Their simple design gave no indication of their purpose.


    Miaomiao tilted her head, puzzled. [Hmm... I''m not sure what these are.]


    "Guess I''ll just have to try them on," Michael said.


    As he slipped on the gloves, a sharp pain pricked his fingers. Another artifact that recognizes its owner through blood, he thought.


    Moments later, he noticed something strange. Above Miaomiao and Marcus''s heads, glowing yellow words appeared: Friendship.


    Above Garett and his companions, the word Loyalty appeared in glowing blue, floating like a hologram in the air.


    Michael grinned as he understood the gloves'' function. This artifact reveals the emotions others feel toward me! The possibilities were endless¡ªdistinguishing between those who harbored ill intent and those who were sincere, or even leveraging this in negotiations.


    But if it''s always active, wouldn''t that be exhausting? He imagined his surroundings constantly flashing with words and colors. That wouldn''t be sustainable.


    Examining the gloves, Michael noticed two small gems on the wrist. Pressing the first gem, the words above everyone''s heads vanished instantly. So it''s all or nothing? Interesting.


    Curious, he pressed the second gem. Nothing happened¡ªuntil Miaomiao, her curiosity piqued, wrapped her tail around Michael''s leg. Above her head, the word Friendship flickered briefly before disappearing.


    Michael realized the second gem allowed him to see the emotions of anyone he physically touched.


    "Miaomiao, this artifact is incredible. It lets me see what others feel about me," Michael explained excitedly.


    Miaomiao''s eyes widened in surprise. [Really? That''s perfect for someone as clueless as you! So, what does it say about me?]


    "You and Marcus both show as Friendship. Thanks, I consider you both my friends too."


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    Purring contentedly, Miaomiao replied, [If it showed everyone''s emotions all day, that would be exhausting.]


    "It''s adjustable. I''ve set it so I only see emotions when I make contact. If I suspect someone, I can just offer a handshake," Michael said.


    [Smart move,] Miaomiao agreed. [We''ve scored big with this haul. So, how much are you planning to share with us?]


    Marcus perked up at the mention of shares, his ears twitching expectantly.


    "Well," Michael began, "we''ll sell the grave goods and split 10% of the proceeds into vouchers. The artifacts, since they''ll benefit all of us, won''t have a price assigned. Does that work?"


    [Hmm, it feels a bit light, but we''re good-hearted sacred beasts, so I''ll accept it,] Miaomiao said with an exaggerated sigh. Marcus nodded, satisfied.


    Michael then summoned all twelve Garetts and explained their wages and bonuses. Listening with reverent attention, the gargoyles seemed overjoyed. Their tails wagged enthusiastically when Michael promised each a share of 1% of the haul''s proceeds.


    Miaomiao approached the gargoyles slyly. [Listen carefully, Garett. In this domain, magical beasts work and earn money. Now that you''re contracted with Michael, remember this: investment is how money grows. If you don''t invest, you''re letting your money rot. Got it?]


    She wasn''t promoting investment because Michael promised a 3% commission for new clients¡ªdefinitely not. She was merely sharing wisdom for the benefit of her subordinates. Absolutely.


    After Miaomiao''s pitch, the gargoyles turned to Michael with eager expressions. [Sir Michael, could we also participate in this voucher investment Lady Nefertari and Sir Marcus are doing?]


    Michael''s smile radiated benevolence. "Of course, as much as you''d like!"

 Chapter 113 We Were Betrayed!

    The group left the tomb and took flight once more. After about fifteen minutes, they arrived at a large cavern. Unlike the smooth walls of the previous chambers, this space retained its natural ruggedness.


    Outside the cavern, crystal clear blue seawater shimmered, connecting to a wide entrance large enough for a ship to pass through. The entrance was nestled between cliffs, shrouded in thick mist that ensured it couldn''t be seen from the outside.


    [That mist is the seal I mentioned,] Garett One said quietly.


    Michael murmured in awe, "Your grandfather concealed this place to the very end... Miaomiao, he truly was incredible."


    Tears welled in Miaomiao''s eyes, but she quickly wiped them away with her paw. [Of course! He''s my grandfather, after all! Hehe.]


    The group began exploring the vast cavern. Its sheer size, combined with the darkness and mist, made it difficult to survey in its entirety.


    As Michael meticulously examined the surroundings, something caught his eye¡ªa shipwreck emerging faintly from the mist. The vessel''s silhouette was obscured, making it hard to discern its details at first.


    Miaomiao, perched on Michael''s shoulder, gasped. [That''s it! That''s the heirloom I mentioned¡ªthe ancient magic ship! I can''t believe it''s been abandoned like this...]


    Excitement surged through Michael as he rushed toward the ship. From a distance, it looked decrepit and ruined, but up close, its condition was surprisingly intact. Though weathered with signs of age, the ship''s structure remained sound.


    "We should go aboard. What do you all think?" Michael asked. Everyone nodded in agreement.


    [Still, we should be cautious. Wait a moment,] Miaomiao said, her concern evident. She cast protective magic over the group before they advanced.


    Michael prepared himself, equipping Eah''s Shield and donning the armor and bow gifted to him by Lucrezia. With everyone ready, they climbed onto the ship.


    As they stepped aboard, it became clear the deck was far larger than it appeared from the outside. Just as Miaomiao had said, the ship was an ancient magic vessel.


    Spread across the deck were piles of bones, arranged in a circular pattern at regular intervals. The remains, now reduced to skeletons, wore garments that were surprisingly well preserved despite the passage of time. Most were mage robes, though there were also several sets of finely crafted armor.


    Interspersed among the bones were magical cores from beasts and remains of non human entities. It seemed representatives from every race on the continent had gathered here.


    At the center of the deck, a faintly glowing crystal rested in a circular formation. The entire arrangement gave the impression of a ritual having taken place. A chill ran down everyone''s spines.


    Miaomiao''s voice quivered as she pointed toward the crystal. [Michael, that''s my grandfather''s core.]


    Michael tried to comfort Miaomiao, whose head hung low as she gazed at the glowing core, radiant like a precious gemstone.


    [It''s fine. Just finding a trace of my grandfather is enough,] she said, forcing a smile to mask her sorrow.


    Michael asked quietly, "What happened here for so many people to die in this manner?"


    The scene before them was deeply unsettling¡ªskeletons that had maintained their forms for 25,000 years.


    Miaomiao slowly walked toward the core, her eyes fixed on its luminescence. As she placed her paw on it, a deep, powerful voice reverberated through the air.


    [My descendant, you have finally come.]


    A massive spectral Sphinx appeared, towering above them.


    "So large..." Michael thought, awestruck, his mouth slightly agape. And so majestic.


    The apparition''s form was sleek and agile, reminiscent of a jaguar. Though it bore a resemblance to Miaomiao, its amber eyes and the intense glow radiating from them spoke of unparalleled strength in life. Its glossy black fur was particularly long around its head and chin, giving it an air of regality.


    The Garetts immediately prostrated themselves in reverence. Miaomiao reached out a paw toward the specter as if to embrace it, but her paw passed through the intangible image.


    With a sorrowful tone, the apparition spoke again. [You must be my granddaughter. It brings me joy to see you, even in this way.]


    [Yes, I am Nefertari Hatshepsut Sphinx. Grandfather! What happened to you? How did things come to this?]


    Akhenaten looked upward at the cavern''s ceiling and let out a harrowing roar of anguish. His voice, filled with fury, resentment and anger, echoed throughout the cavern.


    [We were betrayed!]


    The shocking declaration left the group holding their breath, awaiting his next words.


    [When the Vesuth Volcano was discovered to be on the verge of eruption, every intelligent being on the continent convened,] Akhenaten began, his tone steadying as he recounted the events. [The assembly decided that the eruption and its aftermath must be stopped at all costs. Three hundred of the continent''s strongest beings were divided into two groups. The first team, tasked with sealing the volcano, carried an enormous collection of mana stones contributed by all the continent''s people. The scale was staggering¡ªenough to fill a thousand spatial rings completely.] Stay tuned for updates on My Virtual Library Empire sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Akhenaten''s gaze grew distant as if he were staring through the cavern walls into the past.


    [Even with that many mana stones, it was only enough to activate the first group''s magic circle. The second team was tasked with channeling lava and ash toward the sea, a monumental endeavor that required breaching a path through the volcanic conduits. To achieve this, we decided to harness the power of an ancient god.]


    His eyes hardened. [The power of an ancient god is a double edged sword. Mishandling it could lead to a catastrophic backlash that would annihilate us all. But we had no choice. This tomb was the only one left intact, housing two divine remains. Even that wasn''t enough¡ªwe had to gather every fragment of the ancient gods scattered across the continent. The strongest among us were all assigned to the second team, myself included.]


    Pride flickered across Akhenaten''s spectral visage. Michael realized that Miaomiao had inherited that trait. Or perhaps, it was the other way around.

 Chapter 114 A Larger Scheme!

    [As the tomb''s guardian, I wrestled with my duty, but for the continent''s safety¡ªand for my unborn child¡ªI made my decision. I dismantled the protective barriers and brought the two divine remains here. As we pooled our strength, a traitor revealed their hand.]


    Akhenaten''s jaw clenched, his fury resonating throughout the cavern. The air itself seemed to vibrate with his anger, causing the walls to hum ominously. Even as a mere apparition, his power was palpable¡ªa testament to his status as one of the ancient era''s strongest beings.


    [The traitor absorbed the power of the two divine remains and every fragment of the ancient gods we had gathered. We only realized what was happening far too late. We assumed the energy was being drawn into the magic circle, but by the time we discovered the truth, the power had already been stolen.]


    The vibrations grew louder, and debris began falling from the ceiling. Akhenaten took a moment to compose himself, and the cavern stilled once more. S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    [Breaking our concentration could have caused a catastrophic backlash that would''ve annihilated us all. The traitor, having absorbed all the divine power, attacked us, disrupting the delicate balance of energy. We collapsed, coughing blood, while he escaped unscathed. Pursuing him was futile¡ªwe couldn''t retrieve the stolen power. Absorbing that much divine energy should have caused countless backlashes, yet he showed no signs of strain. It was... unheard of.]


    He sighed, his tone tinged with bitterness.


    Michael felt a growing tension, his unease mirrored in Miaomiao''s anxious gaze. The mention of absorbing divine power struck uncomfortably close to Michael''s own abilities.


    [We tried contacting the first team using the Whisper of Tears earrings,] Akhenaten continued. [But there was no response. When we reached their tomb, we found one earring left behind in its case.]


    A single tear rolled down Akhenaten''s ethereal face.


    Miaomiao''s voice trembled. [The first team... they were all killed, weren''t they? That explains why so few artifacts from the ancient gods remain¡ªthey return to their original locations when their owners die.]


    Akhenaten nodded silently.


    [Exactly. With no time to confirm if the first team had succeeded, I resorted to an ancient soul-binding ritual.]


    Miaomiao''s eyes widened in shock. [So that''s why everyone was positioned that way when they died!]


    Akhenaten looked at her with a mix of sorrow and affection, his gaze softening as he beheld his granddaughter.


    [Yes, it was painful to know I would never meet the child who was to be born, but we all agreed to give our lives. Not one of us hesitated,] Akhenaten said, his voice filled with solemn resolve.


    Tears streamed down Miaomiao''s small face. Sobbing, she turned to Michael and explained, [The soul-binding ritual... It requires a being of great power to willingly extract their own heart, offering their soul and magic as a sacrifice. It''s the ultimate ritual, demanding the ultimate sacrifice...]


    Her words broke off into uncontrollable sobs. If Akhenaten''s account was true, then apart from the traitor, 149 of the continent''s strongest beings had willingly sacrificed themselves for the survival of all.


    Michael and the group bowed deeply toward Akhenaten and the remains scattered on the deck, their expressions filled with reverence.


    [Through everyone''s sacrifice, the ritual succeeded. We watched the magic circle activate as we passed away. There is no regret in that choice, only sorrow that I could not remain to protect you,] Akhenaten said, his gaze tender as he looked at Miaomiao.


    She smiled back through her tears. [You''re leaving soon, aren''t you? If there''s anything you''d like me to convey, please tell me. I''ll make sure your message is delivered.]


    Akhenaten beckoned her closer and whispered softly. Miaomiao''s face lit up with a radiant smile. [Yes, I''ll make sure to tell them, Grandfather.]


    His expression composed, Akhenaten addressed the entire group.


    [As the ritual''s executor, I remained as this projection, but my comrades could not even leave their final words. I do not know if their descendants survive, but the only thing I can hope for now is vengeance.]


    Michael hesitated. "It''s been 25,000 years since those events. Even if you sought revenge, your target..."


    Akhenaten shook his head, cutting Michael off. [At some point, I could no longer speak the traitor''s name. After absorbing that much power, he ascended to godhood. His name is Lu*#%@.]


    The end of the name was distorted, as though another force intervened. Ignoring it, Akhenaten continued. Read new chapters at My Virtual Library Empire


    [I do not know what religion he may have founded, but I trust you can uncover it. No faith built by such a being could be righteous. Destroy it. It will be a difficult path, but I ask this of you... even if it is only an effort. Will you swear to this?]


    Michael thought of the Radiance Church, believed to have originated 15,000 years ago. Could it be that this betrayal dated back 25,000 years? He shook his head quickly. Until he had the strength, it was too dangerous to reveal hostility toward such an entity.


    Miaomiao seemed to share his realization, exchanging a meaningful look with Michael. Together, they swore their pledge to Akhenaten.


    Once again, fate seemed to bind them to a larger scheme. Was this destiny''s cruel jest?


    As the others made their vows, satisfaction spread across Akhenaten''s face. From within his form, he produced a scroll.


    [Here is a record of the comrades who perished with me and the artifacts of the ancient gods they carried. I''ve marked the locations of their tombs. While the methods to breach their defenses change constantly, knowing the locations will allow Nefertari and the Garetts to assist. Imagine, a tomb guardian encouraging grave-robbing! Hahaha! My granddaughter, absorb the remaining cores here and grow stronger.]


    Pausing, Akhenaten turned to Michael with a serious expression.


    [Should you find any descendants of my comrades and see them struggling, would you take care of them?]


    Michael nodded confidently. [Of course. Seeing the descendants of such noble sacrifices suffer would be unacceptable. I''ll do everything I can to help.]

 Chapter 115 Laness Spear

    Relief washed over Akhenaten''s face as he threw his head back and roared to the cavern''s ceiling.


    [I, Akhenaten Memphis Sphinx, have lived my life as a true Sphinx! Now, I have no regrets left!]


    His projection began to fade, breaking into golden particles that scattered into the air like grains of sand in the wind.


    Simultaneously, the skeletal remains on the deck dissolved into golden light, dispersing and filling the cavern with a serene glow. After thousands of years, the fallen could finally rest.


    Miaomiao reached out as if to grasp the particles but let her paw fall limply, lowering her head. Her tears sparkled as they dropped onto the dark wooden deck.


    Marcus unfolded his large wings to shield her as she wept, offering silent comfort. The Garetts watched their lord''s departure with somber expressions, crossing their forepaws over their chests in a solemn salute. Read new adventures at My Virtual Library Empire


    Michael gently consoled Miaomiao, gazing into the distance. He almost felt as if he could see the heroes of 25,000 years ago, laughing and joking as they moved on. They seemed content.


    After a moment of silence, the group gathered the remaining robes and armor from the ship. They knew their future opponents would be formidable, and every bit of strength would count.


    Michael turned to Miaomiao, who was sweeping the deck absentmindedly with her tail, the collected cores piled nearby.


    "Come to think of it, this ship was supposed to be magical, right?" Michael asked, hoping to lighten the mood.


    Startled, Miaomiao replied, [Yes. This is an heirloom of my family. It''s an ancient artifact that operates autonomously, disperses mist to conceal its movements, and can even call upon sea beasts for aid. It has a permanent spatial enchantment, making it far larger than it appears.]


    Michael''s mind raced with possibilities for the ship''s use, a sly smile spreading across his face. Yes, that would work perfectly.


    Noticing his expression, Miaomiao and Marcus exchanged worried glances and shook their heads.


    Whenever Michael smiled like that, it meant trouble.


    The group decided to rest before setting out again. The ancient scroll needed to be examined carefully.


    The ship''s cabin was clean and surprisingly comfortable, with each room even equipped with its own bathroom¡ªa luxury Michael hadn''t expected.


    "This is a great ship. Thanks, Miaomiao," Michael said appreciatively.


    [Even I had only heard about it. It''s much better than I imagined,] Miaomiao replied.


    Gathering in the common area, the group unfurled the scroll to review its contents. Fortunately, the list of artifacts was organized by proximity to the Draco Mountain Range.


    The first item that caught their attention was Ianes''s Spear.


    Ianes''s Spear


    The legendary spearman, Curse, entrusted this artifact. Ianes''s Spear can strike any target within 3 kilometers with perfect accuracy three times a day. After each strike, the spear automatically returns to the wielder. Once the three uses are exhausted, it functions as a normal spear, though the return feature remains permanently active. Use it wisely!


    Michael couldn''t help but cheer inwardly. Though he primarily used a bow, a spear was an essential weapon for a knight. The prospect of adding this artifact to his arsenal thrilled him.


    After noting its location, he estimated that with proper time management, they could retrieve it before the day ended. His gaze fell on Marcus.


    Feeling Michael''s eyes on him, Marcus raised a paw. [One hundred gold!]


    Michael grumbled to himself. Darn, I''ve raised a greedy tiger.


    Still, he nodded. It wasn''t a bad deal, after all. "Fine. Payment will be in vouchers."


    [Perfect! Gold-embossed vouchers!] Marcus agreed enthusiastically.


    [Before we leave, I need to absorb the cores here,] Miaomiao said. [I''ll use this cabin, so you all rest in the others.]


    Michael vacated the space for her, while Marcus and the Garetts disappeared into the cabins they''d picked. Surprisingly, the gargoyles could shrink themselves to a mere 50 centimeters, resembling tiny dinosaurs from the opening scene of a certain dinosaur movie¡ªa sight that made Michael clutch his chest. For a dinosaur enthusiast like him, it was almost too much.


    Left alone, Michael began sketching a rough map of the continent, plotting the locations of the 15 artifacts listed on the scroll. If he could secure them all, his collection would surpass anyone else''s on the entire continent.


    Once he finalized the route, Michael moved on to his next task: identifying the form in which the next person to awaken might be entombed.


    He wracked his brain for something he''d read in the royal library¡ªmemories of intriguing texts about tombs and rituals.


    Conveniently, the location turned out to be a mandragora field. No wonder the mandragoras there are so large and abundant... It seems every criminal in the world has been buried there.


    With his plans complete, Michael lay down on the bed, closing his eyes. His thoughts drifted from artifacts to ancient gods, divine energy, and betrayal before sleep claimed him.


    He awoke to Miaomiao patting his cheek insistently.


    "Wow, I feel great. How long did I sleep?" Michael asked groggily. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    [You slept like a log. It''s been eight hours,] Miaomiao replied.


    "What? Eight hours? No wonder I''m starving. Let''s head out; we''re already late."


    [Everyone''s ready. You''re the last one,] she teased, giggling as Michael scrambled to get ready.


    The group flew to the coastal area beyond the Draco Mountain Range, successfully excavating the tomb of the ancient god and retrieving Ianes''s Spear.


    The journey turned out to be easier than expected, and the rewards were more than satisfying. The return trip was smooth, taking just two and a half hours from the coastal cave to the mine.


    Upon arriving at the mine, they faced a dilemma.


    "What should we do about this hole?" Michael asked. "If we just cover it up, people will get curious."


    The problem was resolved quickly when Garett stepped forward, offering to use his guardian abilities. Pressing his paw to the ground, he chanted an incantation, causing the hole to seal seamlessly as if it had never existed.


    [Now, access will only be possible if accompanied by Lady Nefertari or myself,] Garett explained.


    Michael mused. I should really give these guys a raise. They''re amazing.

 Chapter 116 Baron Kensington Visite

    Outside, rain poured steadily. The Garetts seemed delighted by the rare sight, some tasting the raindrops with their tongues while others spread their wings to soar through the drizzle.


    Meanwhile, the mine remained idle, awaiting the go-ahead to resume operations. Michael called the overseer, assuring him that all toxic gases in the tunnels had been cleared and that work could safely resume.


    The nervous overseer beamed with relief, quickly summoning the miners. Their cheers filled the air.


    "Thank you, Sir Michael!"


    "You''ve saved us yet again!"


    "Not only did you give us jobs, but you also care about our safety. We''re forever grateful!"


    Michael waved at the grateful miners, smiling as he watched their worn faces brighten with joy. Seeing the once-haggard people laugh and express their gratitude felt even better than acquiring rare artifacts.


    So this is the satisfaction of being recognized.


    Returning to the now-familiar tent, Michael was greeted by Leonardo, who practically leapt toward him, his pupils dilated with excitement.


    "Master! I''ve prepared everything for the task you assigned me!"


    Leonardo''s intensity was overwhelming, prompting Michael to take a step back. Yet, seeing the determination in his eyes, Michael couldn''t help but feel a pang of sympathy.


    He''s worked so hard.


    "Alright. What have you done?" Michael asked.


    "I heard from Isfer that you needed to deal with troublemakers requiring persuasion and hypnosis. I''ve perfected the process to make them completely compliant to your wishes!"


    Michael''s eyes darted to the corner of the tent in alarm. The miner he had seen earlier was tied to a post, his face pale and expression blank. He looked utterly terrified, as if his wits had abandoned him.


    "Just adjust his memory a little," Michael instructed Leonardo. "And hold off on anything extreme for now."


    Leonardo''s face fell with disappointment. Stay tuned with My Virtual Library Empire


    As Leonardo approached the miner, the man began to sob uncontrollably.


    "Please, let me go! I swear I won''t say a word to anyone! Have mercy! I have kids as sweet as rabbits and a wife as strong as a bear. Please don''t take me away from them..."


    The miner was inconsolable, leaving Michael no choice but to signal Leonardo to put him to sleep. After the miner collapsed into unconsciousness, Michael carried him to the bed.


    "Make him remember discovering toxic gas in the mine, reporting it to me, and then collapsing from gas poisoning. Can you handle that?"


    Leonardo perked up, nodding enthusiastically. "Of course, Master! For you, I would even walk into a pit of fire¡ª"


    "Skip the fire-walking and focus on this first," Michael said wearily.


    Leonardo got to work, meticulously altering the miner''s memories. Soon, the man awoke, a mix of gratitude and confusion etched on his face.


    "Thank you, my lord! A simple man like me doesn''t deserve to be treated so kindly," the miner said, bowing deeply.


    Michael rewarded him with a cow, 50 gold, and a piece of prime farmland. The miner left the tent beaming with gratitude, his joy evident in the way he carried himself.


    After sending the miner on his way, Michael set about tackling a backlog of paperwork. Leonardo''s endless praise served as an amusing background noise, making the task pass quickly.


    With his work complete, Michael stood, preparing to visit the castle currently undergoing repairs.


    At the castle, Michael was met with unexpected guests: Baron Kensington and Louis, the youngest son of Count Charles.


    Louis appeared utterly infatuated with Elizabeth, his ears flushed red as he hung on her every word. He didn''t even notice Michael''s arrival.


    Baron Kensington, however, greeted Michael with his usual hearty smile, striding over to clap him on the shoulder.


    "Michael," the baron began bluntly, "why on earth did you choose this fief? I was a bit puzzled before, but after hearing more, I felt I had to come and ask you myself."


    The baron paused, glancing at Michael to gauge his reaction. Fortunately, Michael''s expression remained calm, encouraging him to continue.


    "You could''ve claimed more fertile land, but you picked this place instead? Sure, it''s in a basin, but the soil here isn''t as productive as richer lands¡ªit yields less than 80% of what fertile fields can produce. At first, I thought it might be because of the mines, but do you realize the iron here is of poor quality? Mining it will only ruin the land further."


    Michael smiled warmly, sensing the baron''s genuine concern. He had noticed the <Friendship> marker glowing above Kensington''s head earlier, leaving no doubt about his sincerity.


    "Brother Vincent, I appreciate your concern," Michael replied. "But the situation here isn''t as bad as it seems. While it''s true that grain production is lower, this region is vast. The plateau by the lake, for instance, is incredibly fertile and well-suited for livestock. We''ve already started grazing animals there."


    Michael gestured toward the plateau.


    "There''s also marshland near the lake that can be drained and cultivated. My previous fief was fertile but small, and we were bound by a non-aggression pact with neighboring territories, leaving no room for growth. After much discussion with my father, I decided this fief had the most potential for development. There''s plenty of unclaimed land near the mountains and in the surrounding area. Its remoteness has kept others from coveting it."


    He chuckled softly before his tone grew serious.


    "This war, like many before it, is unlikely to be conclusive. When it ends, noble scions seeking to make their mark will swarm the northwest and south. Where will they aim their ambitions next? Not this barren land¡ªthey''ll target Crawley territory and other abandoned lands. It''s better to quietly cultivate this area than risk being caught in a struggle between titans."


    The baron''s expression grew increasingly serious as Michael spoke.


    "Given this, I''ve gathered many knights and mages to help secure and develop the territory. It''s a long-term investment, but one I''m confident in."


    The best way to persuade someone is to mix truth with deception. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Reassured, Baron Kensington nodded. "Well, I''m glad to hear that. I was starting to worry after hearing so much talk about it... I thought you might''ve made a mistake."


    He scratched his head sheepishly.


    Michael smiled knowingly. "You must have another reason for visiting, though, don''t you?"

 Chapter 117 Negotiation

    The baron laughed heartily. "Caught me. I wanted to see the magical beasts."


    Of course, a beast enthusiast.


    Michael pointed toward a clearing behind the castle. "That''s where the beast tamers are training them. Half of them are on duty while the rest are being trained¡ªyou''ll get your fill there."


    Delighted, Baron Kensington strode off eagerly.


    Michael turned his attention to Louis and Elizabeth. Even without paying much attention, it was clear Louis was utterly smitten, while Elizabeth seemed barely tolerating his presence, suppressing her irritation.


    Determined to rescue his sister, Michael stepped in.


    "What brings you here, Sir Louis?" he asked.


    Startled, Louis snapped out of his reverie. "Ah, Sir Michael. I didn''t see you there."


    Seizing the moment, Elizabeth made her escape.


    "Since Michael is here, I''ll take my leave. I have much to attend to. My apologies, Sir Louis. I hope you enjoy your visit."


    Louis stared wistfully after her retreating figure.


    "Sir Louis?" Michael prompted, snapping him back to reality.


    "Oh, apologies, Sir Michael. My father sent me with a letter for you."


    Michael accepted the letter, quickly skimming its contents. The information it contained was unexpectedly helpful, leaving him momentarily stunned.


    Why would they share this?


    A glance at Louis''s na?ve expression clarified things. The young noble was an open book, making him the perfect conduit for such exchanges.


    No harm in returning the favor, Michael decided.


    "There are many knights and mages from the capital staying here," he said to Louis. "Why not spend some time getting to know them? You''re welcome to stay."


    The Duke of Rochester, one of the five great dukes of the Kingdom of Lania and the leader of the northwestern nobility, was in a private meeting with his illegitimate son, Philip.


    Philip was the son he had with Esmeralda, a stunning beauty who had retained her place as the duke''s mistress for 20 years. The duke had ensured Philip''s rise to the rank of baron through generous allocations of military merit. Now, however, it was time to send Philip elsewhere.


    "This will be your foundation," the duke said firmly. "Go there and make something of yourself."


    Philip, who had inherited his mother''s striking features, met his father''s gaze with resignation.


    "Yes," he sighed. "It''s clear that staying here will only lead to further clashes with my brother."


    Despite his outward acceptance, Philip couldn''t help but feel the sting of injustice. He was confident that his talents were at least equal to, if not greater than, those of his elder brother. Yet, his birthright¡ªor lack thereof¡ªwas an insurmountable barrier.


    Though the duke clearly favored Esmeralda and Philip over his legitimate family, the kingdom''s inheritance laws were unyielding. As long as the duke had a legitimate wife and heir, Philip remained a mere illegitimate son. Even if his legitimate brother were to die, the title would pass to another legitimate relative, leaving Philip even lower in the pecking order.


    The duke had shown care and affection for Philip, but he never allowed him to forget his station. Philip''s resources had always been lesser compared to his elder brother''s.


    Objectively, Philip''s situation was far from dire¡ªhe had achieved military success and secured a barony with his father''s support. But for Philip, it was never enough. S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He harbored a deep resentment for the sneers and whispers behind his back, for the failed marriage proposals caused by his precarious status. He saw himself as a victim, unable to recognize that much of his frustration stemmed from the unrealistic ambitions he and his mother harbored.


    Esmeralda, still breathtakingly beautiful in her thirties, tearfully pleaded with the duke on her son''s behalf.


    "Must Philip really go to that place? Isn''t there a way for him to remain here and earn more distinctions?"


    The duke sighed. "Esmeralda, try to understand my position. I can only provide so much support. And we must consider what will happen after I''m gone."


    Tears glistened in her large, expressive eyes as she clung to the duke. "Don''t say such things. How could Philip and I possibly live without you?" Enjoy new chapters from My Virtual Library Empire


    The duke spoke with measured patience. "That''s precisely why I''m saying this. If Philip establishes himself in the northeast, he won''t need to rely on Pavel''s goodwill in the future."


    Esmeralda''s sobs intensified. She wasn''t entirely opposed to her son leaving; she was calculating how to extract as many resources as possible for him before he left.


    The northeast, though not as barren as the northwest where frequent tribal raids occurred, was still a challenging place. However, with hard work, it could yield prosperity for generations, securing not only Philip''s future but also Esmeralda''s comfortable old age.


    Still, she aimed to push for the maximum support. Her tears, paired with a heartfelt plea the previous night, proved effective once again.


    The duke relented, granting ample resources for Philip''s relocation. As Esmeralda embraced the duke, she cast a sly smile at her son, her cunning evident beneath her maternal facade.


    Back in his tent after inspecting the progress of his estate''s development, Michael pulled out the letter he had skimmed earlier.


    The missive from Count Charles confirmed that a new baron, Philip, had been selected to take over the Crassus Barony.


    Reading through Philip''s background, Michael''s mind whirred with calculations.


    "An illegitimate son of the duke, showered with undeserved accolades? A favored but overindulged bastard? Excellent. He''s a prime target to squeeze for all he''s worth."


    Traditionally, when a new lord assumes control of a territory, they must compensate the outgoing lord for judicial rights and other administrative privileges. The kingdom often turned a blind eye to these transactions, understanding them as part of the transition process.


    Michael resolved to negotiate aggressively.


    The preparations for relocating his people were nearly complete. The village reconstruction was in its final stages, with the fire and earth mages having finished producing bricks, while the water and mist mages had completed the cleanup.


    Other mages were absorbed in unrelated tasks, and the time had come to move the estate''s residents.

 Chapter 118 Where Did The Botans Go

    Knowing that news of his relocation had already reached Count Charles, Michael anticipated the arrival of the new baron soon. Before departing to assist with the relocation, however, there was one more task to address. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    With Miaomiao, Marcus, and the gargoyles in tow, Michael ventured into the Drago Mountains.


    His gaze softened as he looked at the loyal gargoyles. He planned to distribute the grenades being manufactured by Rabouin and his wife among them. Initially, he had considered using flying beasts brought by the knights, but the gargoyles'' reliability and lack of personal preferences made them ideal for the task.


    Michael unrolled a scroll, examining the next artifact on their list.


    Artifact: Ariadne''s Compass


    Recorded by Princess Medeia of the Kingdom of Kargotha


    "According to legend, this compass carries the will of the goddess Ariadne, who sought the most exceptional successor among her descendants. To use it, let a drop of blood fall on the compass. The threads of destiny connecting blood relatives will guide the compass to the most talented descendant. Eighty-five human heroes have contributed a drop of blood to this artifact in hopes of safeguarding their lineage. May their hopes guide you to nurture the gifted among their descendants."


    With 13 artifacts left to retrieve, Ariadne''s Compass was the nearest target. Though time had passed, the bloodlines were likely intact¡ªdestiny worked in predictable ways, especially in a world steeped in magic and mystery.


    Michael glanced down at the Ariadne''s Compass in his hand, its needle faintly glowing as it pointed toward a small group of itinerant slash-and-burn farmers trudging through the Drago Mountains.


    "It seems we''ve found them," he muttered to himself.


    The massive shadow of Marcus falling over the group sent them into immediate panic. They dropped their bundles and threw themselves to the ground in terror. Seeing a dragon in the mountains was rare, even in these wild regions.


    When Michael dismounted, however, their fear turned to sheer panic.


    "A knight! Run!" someone shouted, and the group scattered in all directions.


    "What the...?" Michael was taken aback.


    He quickly ordered the gargoyles to round up the fleeing farmers. Within minutes, their leader¡ªa wiry man with sharp features¡ªwas brought before Michael, trembling.


    "P-please, my lord," the man stammered, "we''re just humble people. Not criminals or runaway slaves, I swear it!"


    Michael raised a hand to calm him. "Relax. I''m not here to harm your people."


    He turned his attention back to the compass, which glowed brighter as he moved closer to the group. Walking among the gathered farmers, the needle eventually flared brightly and displayed an inscription: Experience exclusive tales on My Virtual Library Empire


    "Descendant of the barefoot hero of the plains, Botan, found."


    The compass''s light focused on a young boy with ebony skin and a wiry build. Michael stepped closer and gestured for the boy to stand.


    "You, boy," he said gently. "Come forward."


    The boy, visibly frightened, rose slowly. Despite his youth, his frame already showed the wiry strength typical of the tribe.


    The group was uniformly tall and muscular, their physique a testament to the hardships of life in the dangerous mountains. If Botan''s legendary blood ran through this tribe, the boy must be an exceptional prodigy.


    "I am Michael von Crassus," Michael introduced himself. "I''ve recently settled in the lands beyond the mountains. May I ask where your people are headed?"


    The leader hesitated, his gaze darting nervously between Michael and Marcus. "W-we were relocating, my lord. The movements of the beasts have been unsettling of late."


    Michael nodded, his suspicion confirmed. "It seems you''ve endured much. I''d like to invite you and your people to settle in my lands. Life in the mountains is harsh and unforgiving. In my territory, you''ll have stability and opportunities to thrive."


    The farmers exchanged uncertain glances, whispering among themselves. Finally, the leader voiced the group''s apprehension.


    "Forgive me, my lord, but... we are simple folk, uneducated and unworthy. Wouldn''t we risk becoming slaves or worse?"


    Michael smiled reassuringly, pointing to Marcus.


    "I am a dragon knight," he declared. "I swear on my dragon''s honor that no harm will come to you. My lands are newly founded, and the possibilities are endless. There will be no discrimination, and if anyone troubles you, you may come to me directly. Your efforts will be rewarded with land and a place to call your own. Isn''t that what you seek?"


    The group murmured among themselves, clearly tempted.


    "I will waive all taxes for three years," Michael added, driving the final nail into their doubts. "This, I guarantee in the name of Michael von Crassus, heir of the Crassus estate."


    After some deliberation, the leader bowed deeply.


    "Very well, my lord. We will follow you. But... we have kin scattered across the mountains. May they join us as well?"


    Michael''s smile widened. "Of course. The more, the better."


    The leader''s request was calculated; with more numbers, they could secure greater influence in the new territory. Michael, however, welcomed the prospect. The more people he brought to his land, the faster he could establish a thriving settlement.


    As he surveyed the tribe, his mind raced with possibilities. Their powerful physiques and combat potential would make them invaluable as soldiers.


    Over the next several days, Michael swept through the Drago Mountains, gathering the scattered tribes of the Botan people and escorting them to his lands.


    Meanwhile, Philip, the illegitimate son of the Duke of Rochester, was on a parallel mission. Tasked with revitalizing his newly granted barony, he sought to recruit the Botan people as residents.


    His plan was straightforward: present the tribe with gifts and convince them to join him.


    "This will be easy," the merchant accompanying Philip had assured him. "I''ve traded with them for years. A few trinkets, and they''ll come running."


    However, reality proved otherwise.


    At their fifth empty encampment, Philip was fuming. Signs of recent habitation were evident, but the people themselves were gone.


    "I don''t understand," he muttered. "They were here just a few days ago!"


    The merchant looked equally baffled, shifting nervously.


    "Perhaps they all migrated together?" he offered weakly.


    Philip clenched his fists, glaring at the untouched gifts piled behind him.


    Unbeknownst to him, the Botan people had already moved to Michael''s territory, leaving Philip and his grand plans in the dust.


    "Damn it all," Philip muttered, staring at the abandoned campsite. "Where did they all go?"

 Chapter 119 Philip

    The members of the Botana tribe could not hide their admiration as they surveyed the land they had come to inhabit. The same was true for the former residents of the domain who had relocated to this territory.


    Having acquired homes that were significantly larger and cleaner than their previous dwellings, they were greatly satisfied. What particularly delighted them were the glass windows. In the past, only the wealthiest of the domain''s residents could afford glass windows, but now, every house was equipped with them.


    The improvements did not stop there. The roads were neatly arranged, and each district had pumps installed to provide warm water. In front of these pumps, there were designated areas for laundry and separate bathhouses for men and women. Soldiers patrolled the vicinity of the pumps and bathhouses to ensure security.


    "Now we can bathe as much as we like." "It''ll be much easier to do the laundry too."


    Inspired by the concept of Roman bathhouses and laundries, Damian had initiated their construction with the goal of improving hygiene. While the aristocrats fared relatively well in terms of cleanliness, the general populace of the domain often struggled with poor hygiene, leading to frequent outbreaks of disease.


    Fortunately, unlike in the medieval periods of Damian''s previous world, there were no negative perceptions surrounding bathing. The problem was simply the difficulty of the process. For the common people, taking a bath required fetching a significant amount of water, heating it, and then disposing of the used water afterward¡ªan arduous task.


    "Mother, come here! The floor is warm!"


    Hearing her daughter''s call, a woman approached and gasped in astonishment. The floor was indeed warm.


    In the northern regions, the winter winds were piercingly cold, and even in summer, the temperature rarely exceeded 25 degrees Celsius. Taking these natural conditions into account, Damian had designed a system where underground water heated the floors of every house.


    This achievement was made possible by the efforts and sacrifices of the Lava and Metallurgy schools. While Damian would have liked to install individual pumps in every household, there were limitations.


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    He divided the settlements into ten districts, with approximately 3,000 people per village, totaling around 15,000 residents. This number included serfs, freemen, and the newly arrived members of the Botana tribe. However, it was still far from sufficient. The land was now nearly five times larger than before, yet the population was nowhere near enough to fully utilize it. This was an issue that only time could resolve.


    Fortunately, the Crassus family''s reputation was decent, making it possible to bring over all the former residents of the territory. Of course, promises of larger farmlands and new homes played a role in persuading them.


    Thanks to Damian''s various revenue sources, he did not need to impose additional investments on the freemen. Moreover, those who relocated to the new domain were exempted from taxes for a year. This incentive played a major role in ensuring that all the freemen decided to follow.


    Additionally, the sight of Damian traveling with a dragon and a sphinx helped convince the people. A powerful domain was beneficial to its inhabitants.


    Although the new lord, who had inherited an empty domain, might see it as a misfortune, there was nothing to be done. As Damian observed the newly settled residents with satisfaction, he made his way toward the castle. It was time to summon Philip, who had taken over the previous domain. The tax revenue lost due to the relocation of residents needed to be compensated, and Philip would have to bear that burden.


    Philip, feeling dejected, returned to his tent without having seen a single trace of the Botana tribe. He had climbed the mountains, investing valuable time in search of them, only to achieve nothing.


    Just then, a gargoyle descended before him, carrying a message from the Crassus family.


    "The Crassus family invites Baron Philip. This meeting is to discuss the rights associated with the former territories of the Crassus family. We ask that you do not decline, and we wish you blessings on your journey to the domain."


    The messenger read the letter in a clear, authoritative voice. Philip''s expression twisted with irritation as he looked at the gargoyle, its wings folded neatly as it stood before him. He had heard rumors that Damian had contracted a dragon and a sphinx, but now there was even a gargoyle?


    Suddenly, the fact that he had to rely on horseback for travel, without a single magical beast of his own, made him feel pitiful.


    Turning to his retainer, he asked, "Do I really have to stop by this new domain? Couldn''t they just come to my castle later and sell the rights?"


    The retainer, after a brief hesitation, answered, "Wouldn''t it be better to secure the rights before arriving at your domain? This way, you can avoid any unnecessary disputes later. Besides, it is along the way."


    Realizing he had no choice, Philip took the letter from the messenger and said, "Inform them that I will visit soon."


    As soon as he spoke, the messenger immediately soared into the sky, an action that only deepened Philip''s irritation. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The journey with the 800 soldiers his father had assigned him, along with their families, was grueling. To avoid potential attacks from magical beasts, they had to take a detour around the mountains, which consumed both time and supplies.


    While traveling within the Northwestern Province was relatively manageable, the journey became more difficult as they entered the Northeastern Province. Tensions rose, and food supplies, which they had expected to replenish along the way, turned out to be exorbitantly priced. The noble lords of the Northeastern Province demanded extortionate rates, seemingly unwilling to make any compromises.


    It became clear that Philip''s acquisition of the Crassus domain had displeased the established noble families. Yet, there was no other option. No matter how expensive, he could not allow his soldiers and their families to starve.


    The hardships of this journey made him nostalgic for the past. Even though he was born a bastard, he had at least enjoyed his father''s support before.

 Chapter 120 What Kind Of Scoundrels Are These

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    After much difficulty, Philip and his entourage finally reached the new domain of the Crassus family. As they passed through the village at the base of the castle, he was struck with disbelief.


    The merchant who had accompanied him on the journey to search for the Botana tribe in the mountains was equally astonished.


    ''Why on earth is the Botana tribe here?''


    The tall, dark-skinned members of the tribe were walking openly through the village, chatting and laughing with the former residents as if they had already assimilated.


    Philip was dumbfounded.


    "Merchant, what is the meaning of this? Aren''t those people the Botana tribe you spoke of?"


    While the merchant was struggling to find an appropriate response, a familiar Botana tribesman approached Philip and initiated a conversation.


    "No way, aren''t you Ivan? I was feeling guilty for coming here without informing your trading company, but what a coincidence! We somehow ended up settling here. Haha. It''s a great place to live."


    Ivan felt doomed and clutched his head inwardly. He had planned to claim that he didn''t know this Botana tribe, but now that excuse was no longer viable.


    Philip''s gaze narrowed as he looked at Ivan, expecting an explanation. However, Ivan was at a loss for words.


    No, when I was here last time, there was no mention of anything like this.


    The more one tried to explain in situations like this, the stranger it became. In the end, Ivan gave up on justifying himself. It seemed best to get away from this group and find a way to survive.


    He had initially planned to invest in the new lord, having heard rumors that he was the illegitimate son of a duke, hoping to expand his trading company. But now, with things as they were, he reconsidered¡ªperhaps it would be better to establish trade with the newly emerging Crassus territory.


    The more he thought about it, the more reasonable the idea seemed. Ivan surveyed his surroundings. The well-maintained roads and the attire of the townspeople indicated that the territory''s economy was in decent shape. His mind gradually leaned toward investing in Crassus.


    Meanwhile, Philip continued to resent the merchant, unaware that Ivan had already lost the opportunity to invest his trading company''s resources in the territory. Philip believed he had been deceived by Ivan''s claims about an uncertain tribal migration. Even when he saw the trading company falling behind the group, he merely assumed it was because of their guilty conscience.


    I should never have taken the words of a mere merchant so seriously.


    As he entertained thoughts unbecoming of a lord, Philip entered the castle.


    The moment he stepped inside, an enormous red dragon came into view. Its vertically slit golden eyes gleamed menacingly, sending a shiver down his spine.


    They actually ride monsters like that?


    Feeling intimidated, Philip awkwardly sidestepped to avoid the dragon. He didn''t even consider that Damian had deliberately arranged such an intimidating welcome.


    As he turned, he was met with the sight of a sphinx lying lazily on the ground, adorned with a golden collar. Instinctively avoiding the dragon, Philip had unknowingly walked into the territory of another magical beast.


    The sphinx let out a low growl, startling Philip. Nearby, a large feline creature, Miaomiao, licked its sharp claws, fixing its piercing gaze on him. Surrounding them were a dozen gargoyles, adding to the oppressive atmosphere.


    Philip, overwhelmed by the silent intimidation, froze in fear. Though he was the illegitimate son of a duke and had encountered magical beasts before, he had never witnessed such a scene.


    Damian approached Philip, greeting him with a composed demeanor. His long black hair was tied tightly behind his head, adding to his imposing presence. The black armor he wore¡ªits material unknown¡ªmade him appear even more formidable.


    From his higher vantage point, Damian extended a hand for a handshake. As Philip took it, he felt a pang of self-doubt. He had never considered himself short or unattractive, yet he suddenly felt insignificant.


    "Now, rather than standing around here, let''s head inside. We have much to discuss, don''t we?"


    With that, Philip followed Damian into the castle''s office. He wanted to conclude the business swiftly and establish himself as a dignified lord.


    Inside, Dominic was already waiting.


    "Welcome to our territory. I heard you earned great merits in the Northwestern campaign. I look forward to your future accomplishments on the battlefield."


    There was no need to bring up the uncomfortable truth that Philip had only received those merits due to his noble lineage. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Our family holds the rights to passage, hunting, and judicial authority in this land. Here is the official decree from His Majesty recognizing these rights."


    "I understand, but since the territory has now passed into my hands, aren''t these rights practically meaningless?"


    "Well¡­ Are you aware that our family has a non-aggression pact with neighboring territories? If you don''t pay a sufficient price, we could always sell these rights to them."


    "You wouldn''t dare! Selling off rights attached to my territory to another land¡­"


    In negotiations like these, the one who raised their voice first was at a disadvantage.


    Damian interjected smoothly, playing the role of the intermediary.


    "Of course, selling to another territory should be avoided. As long as you show the appropriate sincerity, that won''t be necessary."


    Philip frowned. What exactly does ''appropriate sincerity'' mean?


    "If it''s just a reasonable gesture of sincerity, I can pay. But if you''re exploiting the situation for an unfair profit¡ª"


    "Unfair profit?" Dominic scoffed. "We are simply selling our rightful claims. Our family cultivated this land from barren wilderness into what it is today. The forests are rich with game, and the judicial fines we collect annually are quite profitable. We also collect significant tolls from merchants passing through. Given all this, we are requesting ten years'' worth of the current territory''s revenue."


    Philip''s eyes widened in disbelief.


    "Ten years'' worth of revenue? Just how much is that?"


    "Around 200,000 gold should suffice."


    "200,000 gold?! That''s absurd! Do you know how much money will be needed to develop the territory further?"


    "Then we have no choice but to sell to a neighboring lord."


    "That would be a shame, Father," Damian chimed in. "200,000 gold isn''t an unreasonable sum, yet look how he reacts to our generosity. We might as well look elsewhere."


    Philip fumed. What kind of scoundrels are these?

 Chapter 121 Negotiation

    "That''s too much! Let''s negotiate. I can go up to 100,000 gold."


    Considering the money Damian had already accumulated, the amount wasn''t too significant. However, this was a matter of pride.


    "100,000 is too low. 180,000."


    "120,000!"


    "170,000!"


    Philip''s glare intensified as he locked eyes with Dominic and Damian. But then, he caught sight of the dragon''s massive eye peeking through the office window. The dragon slightly parted its mouth, revealing rows of menacing fangs.


    Philip''s resolve crumbled.


    "¡­150,000. Let''s settle at 150,000."


    Defeated, he lowered his head.


    Dominic and Damian exchanged triumphant smiles. In truth, selling the rights to another territory had never been a real option. Even so, securing 150,000 gold was still a substantial gain.


    Philip''s mind was in turmoil.


    He already missed his father.


    Here, even the duke''s influence held no power.


    They actually used a dragon to intimidate me¡­ What kind of situation is this?


    Having completed the relocation of his subjects and disposed of the rights to his old territory, Michael felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Now, he could focus entirely on his new domain. Watching the fields of the developing frontier gradually take shape filled him with pride.


    The highlands, untouched by human hands for years, were transforming into fertile farmland as the development progressed. Although the first harvest would not be abundant, it was expected to yield enough crops to sustain the settlers. Even so, Michael lamented the severe shortage of manpower compared to the vast expanse of land.


    Despite bringing over all the freemen from Crassus, summoning the former Iron Valley residents, and even incorporating the Botana tribe, the population was still insufficient. However, since Michael had been generous in granting land, he anticipated that the harvest would improve significantly next year. Enjoy more content from My Virtual Library Empire


    While the temporary tax exemptions caused a dip in the estate''s finances, this was a necessary investment. After all, a prosperous populace meant a prosperous lord. The contributions of the serfs from the southern regions stood out in particular. Compared to the barren north, the south''s advanced agricultural techniques were instrumental in enriching the soil.


    Michael also paid a visit to the reopened mines. Mining operations, inherently labor-intensive, required significant manpower at every stage¡ªfrom extraction and refinement to smelting and casting. These mines were destined to become a primary source of revenue for the new Crassus estate. To this end, Michael had gathered every blacksmith from the surrounding areas and even attracted some settlers by offering high wages.


    Young men eager to learn new skills and save money responded enthusiastically to recruitment efforts. Initially, the blacksmiths were hesitant when Michael shared his plans.


    "You don''t need to train apprentices. Each worker will handle a single task in the production process. This will make the work much easier. Trust me," Michael assured them.


    Vernon, the brick artisan, chimed in to support him. "That''s right. We were skeptical at first too, but the work indeed became faster. Sir Knight is someone you can trust."


    "But our craft is not so simple," one blacksmith countered. "Such methods won''t produce skilled blacksmiths."


    Michael remained steadfast. "What we need right now are not master blacksmiths but people who can complete their tasks quickly. Skilled blacksmiths might think they''re at a disadvantage in this system, but the reality is quite different."


    In an era when iron weapons and tools were handcrafted, blacksmiths were among the most well-compensated workers in the community. Many earned enough not only to cover living expenses but also to own multiple market stalls. This profitability stemmed from the scarcity of their trade, maintained through the apprenticeship system.


    Recognizing the potential resistance from entrenched blacksmiths, Michael devised a solution. "Those skilled in forging weapons and armor will have their livelihoods guaranteed. They will act as supervisors for each production stage and receive performance-based bonuses. Base pay for supervisors will be 10 gold per year, with additional incentives for smooth production lines."


    Since the plan didn''t aim for mass production of fine weapons and armor, as long as workers performed their assigned roles well, the system would suffice. One blacksmith asked cautiously, "So, we won''t have to hammer iron ourselves anymore?"


    Relieved at the prospect of avoiding grueling work under intense heat, the blacksmiths exchanged glances. If they only needed to teach one specific process, there was no risk of their skills being undermined or their status threatened.


    Thanks to the compromise between Michael and the blacksmiths, the clanging of iron echoed endlessly around the mines. With geothermal heat harnessed by mages and assistance from Marcus, high-quality iron was being produced in large quantities, surpassing expectations.


    "Sir Knight, could you take a look at these weapons?"


    Following Greg, the head blacksmith, Michael approached the busy operations at the mine''s edge. The forge, constructed along an extended waterway from the lake, was bustling with activity as ores were melted, iron was extracted, and products were crafted.


    Selling raw iron would have generated income, but producing and selling finished weapons was far more profitable. Greg, visibly nervous, presented newly forged swords, spearheads, and shields reinforced with iron, anxiously awaiting Michael''s evaluation.


    "The weapons... They''re not of great quality," Michael noted. "The iron itself isn''t bad, but most of these items have flaws that make it difficult to sell them at a fair price." S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael had not expected high-quality weapons from a basic mass-production system. Examining the swords, he noted inconsistent weights and lengths, while the spearheads lacked precision, potentially diminishing their lethality.


    Yet Michael found this outcome satisfactory. After all, these weapons weren''t intended for his army; they were meant for sale to other territories. Compared to wooden spears or shields, even these flawed iron weapons were far superior.


    Targeting cash-strapped nobles ensured a reliable demand for these products. Attempting to sell high-quality weapons on such a scale would have raised suspicions and potentially drawn attention from the royal family, given the strategic implications.


    "This level of quality is sufficient, so don''t worry about it," Michael said reassuringly. "Continue producing to this standard. The most important thing is to keep production costs low; there''s no need to strive for higher quality."

 Chapter 122 Where Is Everyone?

    Greg, who had been worried, let out a sigh of relief. Michael continued, "Produce 5,000 spearheads and shields within a month. That should be manageable, right?"


    Greg nodded confidently. While quality might have dropped after establishing the production line, the speed of manufacturing had increased dramatically.


    "Later, I''ll bring in high-quality iron. That''s when I''ll need you and the master blacksmiths to forge it yourselves," Michael added. "We''ll be using those items for our own troops."


    Greg''s eyes sparkled at the discreet order. Supervising had kept his hands itching for work, so he was more than ready. "Leave it to me. I''m confident we''ll do a great job." Continue reading stories on My Virtual Library Empire


    Pleased, Michael patted Greg''s shoulder and handed him a prepared bonus. Accepting the reward with a broad smile, Greg and the other blacksmiths felt motivated to push production even further.


    Michael''s mind, however, was teeming with thoughts. There was still so much to do. While the immediate priority was ramping up production of basic weapons for wartime needs, his long-term goal was to shift focus to improved agricultural tools.


    Lost in thought, Michael left the forge and headed toward Baron Kensington''s residence. He would need the baron''s network of connections to achieve his goals.


    Baron Kensington followed Michael into the makeshift armory. Inside, stacks of spearheads and shields filled the space, a testament to the recent production efforts. While the quality left much to be desired, the sheer volume overwhelmed the baron.


    After a lengthy negotiation, Michael agreed to provide 200 weapons as an introductory commission. In return, Baron Kensington promised to connect him with potential buyers and receive a 1% cut of the sales revenue.


    The production cost for each spearhead, excluding the shaft, was about one silver coin, while swords and shields cost six silvers each. Since Michael couldn''t personally act as a traveling merchant, and involving regular traders would cut into profits, it was more advantageous to leverage Baron Kensington''s influence, even if it meant taking an initial loss.


    Baron Kensington, a prominent figure in the northeastern provinces, wasted no time. As soon as the contract was signed, he mounted his griffin and soared away. Not long after, he returned with three nobles in tow.


    In the current market, iron weapons sold by merchants were of excellent quality but prohibitively expensive and scarce. This made Michael''s lower-quality weapons highly appealing. Even basic iron-tipped spears provided a significant combat advantage to serf soldiers who would otherwise rely on wooden weapons.


    With war against the Pamir Empire on the horizon, the demand for affordable weapons was undeniable. The entire stock of arms was sold out in no time. Watching this unfold, Michael resolved to expedite production further. While he had anticipated success, the speed and scale of the sales exceeded his expectations.


    Meanwhile, Phillip, now the new lord of the old Crassus estate, entered the territory with a dejected expression. For a moment, he wondered if he had taken a wrong turn. The fertile lands promised by the Crassus family were nowhere to be seen.


    Fields that should have been planted long ago were barren, infrastructure was in shambles, wells were clogged with dirt, and houses had crumbling walls. "What on earth is this mess?" he exclaimed in frustration.


    Though all the serfs had been relocated, not a single freeman remained. The scene before him resembled the aftermath of a war. "Where is everyone?" he demanded.


    One of his attendants hesitated before replying cautiously, "Well, my lord, according to inquiries made along the way, the Crassus family is highly regarded. They offered farmland practically for free, so everyone flocked to their new estate."


    Phillip clenched his fists in rage. Selling off the rights to the estate at such a price, leaving not a single freeman behind¡ªit was shameless. "Fine, but why is the village in such a state?"


    "Uh, it''s¡­ I hate to say this, my lord, but your reputation in the northeastern provinces isn''t great. It seems this damage was caused by those harboring grudges against you."


    Phillip was at a loss for words. While he had braced for some resistance, this level of destruction was beyond anything he had imagined. "Surely, no matter how angry they are, they could have left the place livable. This is outrageous!"


    The attendant suppressed his thoughts. Reaping what you sow, perhaps?


    In this era, the fortunes of a noble family rose and fell with its members. The duke''s massacre of northeastern nobles and knights had earned him many enemies, and Phillip was now paying the price. Count Charles had been a key instigator of the estate''s ruin. While he bore no personal grudge, he sought to prevent the duke''s influence from growing in the region. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After the Crassus family''s departure, a band of northeastern nobles disguised as bandits destroyed everything they could. Though despicable, their actions were effective. Rebuilding the estate from such devastation would cost hundreds of thousands of gold coins¡ªa burden too great for Phillip, who had already been bled dry by the Crassus family.


    Phillip''s anger reached a boiling point when he saw the damaged castle gates. "Is this also the work of those holding grudges?"


    "That¡­ no, my lord," the attendant stammered. "It appears the Crassus family took the gates with them. They were heirlooms, after all."


    Phillip exploded in rage. "They took the gates too? After stealing the people and selling the rights to this wreckage at that price?"


    "Removing gates bearing the family crest is the right of the previous lord," the attendant added meekly.


    Phillip''s furious glare bore down on the unfortunate attendant. "Whose side are you on, exactly?"


    The attendant shrank back, silently cursing his loose tongue.


    Meanwhile, Michael watched with satisfaction as the iron gates of his former castle melted down in the forge. The gates, painstakingly crafted by his ancestors, had been difficult to dismantle and transport, but the effort was worth it.


    He planned to repurpose the iron to produce high-quality weapons for his soldiers. The thought of his troops being armed with gleaming new equipment filled him with pride. Surely, his ancestors would approve of such a decision.

 Chapter 123 Endless Cycle Of War

    A fierce wind swept across Charles V''s face as he stood atop the watchtower. The heavy cape draped over his shoulders clung tightly to his body, buffeted by the gusts. Below, the capital city of the Kingdom of Lania lay shrouded in a downpour, rain lashing against the streets and rooftops.


    Charles V gazed out at the sprawling city scape, his mind clouded with heavy thoughts. Life as a king was far from easy, and for a ruler like him, whose kingdom bordered the war like Pamir Empire, the burdens were particularly immense. No king of Lania had ever lived past the age of sixty¡ªa testament to the weight of their struggles.


    Though Charles V''s reign had been marked by an unusual absence of major wars, that very peace left him feeling even more uneasy. The current emperor of the Pamir Empire was old, but rumors abounded about his plans to replace the crown prince, known for his hedonistic ways, depending on the outcome of the next war.


    Charles V recalled the secret missive sent by a spy embedded within the Pamir royal court. Of the five great tribes that formed the backbone of the empire, three had already agreed to support a southern campaign, and the remaining two were expected to follow suit soon. War was inevitable; it was only a matter of negotiating its spoils.


    While Lania had always managed to defend its borders, claiming a decisive victory against the Pamir Empire was another matter entirely. The empire''s vast population turned each war into little more than a means of population control. The imperial elite ensured that the five great tribes¡ªkey to the empire''s foundation¡ªsuffered minimal losses by drafting soldiers from lesser tribes to fight in their stead.


    "When will we finally escape this endless cycle of war?" Charles V sighed heavily.


    "Your Majesty, please come inside. The wind is growing stronger," urged Alfredo, the loyal royal chamberlain, his face etched with concern.


    Charles V glanced up at the intensifying rain. "Hah, this spring storm is quite harsh. Have you carried out my orders?"


    Alfredo bowed his head and replied, "Yes, Your Majesty. Letters have been sent to all the key nobles of the realm, particularly to Duke Rochester of the Northwest Palace. I have made your requests clear."


    Charles V nodded and shifted his gaze northward. "Good. The Pamir Empire will likely push through the northern front, so we need as many reinforcements as possible. Do you think they''ll cooperate?"


    "Nobles are always self serving, Your Majesty," Alfredo admitted. "But with danger looming so close, at least the nobles of the Northwest Palace should join the effort. If they don''t, the other nobles won''t let them off easily this time."


    Charles V sighed. "It''s not just nobles¡ªit''s human nature. But if they participate, that''s enough for now. The Northwest Palace nobles have received more support than anyone; they must bear their share of responsibility."


    Charles V''s disdain for the Northwest Palace nobility was shared by nearly every noble in Lania. Decades earlier, during a pivotal war, their delayed support had caused the frontline to collapse. The disaster had led to the near annihilation of the northeastern nobles and knights, as well as heavy losses among reinforcements from other regions. The wounds of that war still lingered, and the Northwest Palace nobles, despite receiving the most funding under the pretext of guarding the borders, were deeply resented.


    "Has Duke Rochester stopped his smuggling operations?" Charles V asked.


    "Yes, Your Majesty. It seems your letter startled him into compliance. He''s ceased his activities and sold his stockpiled weapons to royal merchants," Alfredo reported.


    Charles V allowed himself a small smile. "This war feels different from the others. The rise of the Radiant Holy Kingdom and the declining health of the Pamir Emperor worry me."


    "Well, the emperor is over 150 years old," Alfredo remarked. "No matter how vigorous he was in his youth, his time must be nearing its end."


    "And yet, that old man clings to life, defying expectations. Hopefully, he won''t start a grand war as his final wish. That would be worse than him miraculously recovering," Charles V muttered.


    The Pamir Emperor''s supposed imminent death had been rumored countless times, only for the monarch to reappear in good health, as if by magic. Meanwhile, his sons had begun dying before him, leaving the fourth prince¡ªknown for his debauchery¡ªas the current crown prince.


    While the Pamir Empire''s internal drama was troublesome, it was the actions of the Radiant Holy Kingdom that truly gave Charles V a headache. The Holy Kingdom had recently antagonized the Celeste Empire, meddling in their succession and stoking political chaos.


    "The Radiant Holy Kingdom is still causing trouble, I see," Charles V said. "What''s their reasoning this time?"


    "This time, they opposed the coronation of Celeste''s new emperor," Alfredo replied. "It''s blatant interference." sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The story was a tangled one. After the unexpected death of the Celeste Emperor, who had named no successor, a conflict erupted between the eldest prince, the legitimate heir, and the second prince, born of a concubine. The eldest prince emerged victorious. But the Radiant Holy Kingdom inexplicably sided with the second prince, sheltering him and declaring the new emperor a heretic unworthy of the throne.


    The blatant overreach enraged the new emperor, and few doubted that the Holy Kingdom''s actions were a power play to reassert dominance.


    "They still think they rule the continent," Charles V mused. "But their sun has long since set."


    "Indeed, Your Majesty. Their influence is fading."


    Charles V sighed again. "At least, if they create trouble for the Pamir Empire, it might work in our favor. My greater concern is whether the surrounding kingdoms will provide sufficient aid."


    "No one wants their lands invaded, Your Majesty. They''ll honor their sacred duty."


    Faced with relentless raids and plundering from the Pamir Empire, three neighboring nations, including Lania, had formed an alliance to counter the threat. While the arrangement provided some hope, Charles V remained anxious. Your journey continues on My Virtual Library Empire

 Chapter 124 Selling More Weapons

    "Let''s hope we can navigate this crisis safely," he murmured, stepping back into the palace as the cold rain trickled down his neck. His thoughts, tangled and unrelenting, would not find peace until the war had ended.


    Michael was deeply engrossed in selling low grade weapons. Whether to genuinely assist Michael or to line his own pockets, Baron Kensington had introduced a vast network of connections. Among the many visitors drawn by these efforts was Philip, who had come reluctantly, seemingly pushed into it by circumstances.


    Regardless of his motivations, a paying customer was still a customer, and Michael never neglected his patrons. This time, Philip was treated with greater hospitality¡ªtea and cookies were served, a marked improvement from his previous visit, which had included the threat of dragons or sphinxes. Unfortunately, Philip was in no mood to enjoy such comforts.


    The weapons his father had promised to send had not arrived. Instead, he had received only a letter:


    "Dear Son,


    I regret to inform you that the royal court has issued a decree. All high quality weapons manufactured by our family have been requisitioned by the crown. Though they claim it is a purchase, it''s little more than theft. Alas, we have no choice but to comply. Apart from the initial support I provided, I can offer no further aid. I hope you understand. Stay safe, my son."


    After reading the letter, Philip had raged helplessly. He cursed himself for not bringing more weapons when he left, but his baggage had already been overburdened. His family''s illicit dealings with Pamir smugglers also left him no choice but to comply with the requisition, lest their secret be exposed.


    Desperate to secure weapons, Philip scoured every possible source before learning that the Crassus family was selling low grade arms. Though he initially balked at dealing with Michael, whom he considered despicable, his alternatives were either exorbitantly priced or utterly inadequate in quality. Reluctantly, he turned to Michael.


    Having spent tens of thousands of gold on buying serfs from the southern regions, Philip was already stretched thin. He had barely managed to acquire essential artisans through his father''s connections, but the lack of settlers remained a dire problem. The only viable solution was to accept refugees displaced by the war. To attract them, however, he would need to make a significant contribution in the conflict and ensure the security of his lands.


    Thus, with no other options, Philip found himself humbling himself before Michael. "Honorable Sir Michael, I''ve heard you''re selling weapons. Might you sell some to me as well?"


    Michael greeted his valuable customer with a broad smile. "Of course! The weapons are in this warehouse. Feel free to choose what you need. We also offer custom orders. However, as the premier supplier of weapons in the northeastern provinces, we do not cater to small transactions. A minimum purchase of 300 units is required, and we do not offer discounts, no matter the quantity."


    Had Philip come with a letter of introduction from Baron Kensington, the terms might have been more favorable. But since he had arrived of his own accord, there would be no such benefits. The thought of being overcharged yet again made Philip seethe inwardly.


    "...I understand," Philip replied, gritting his teeth so tightly his words were almost inaudible. Michael''s demeanor was more akin to that of a ruthless merchant than a noble. If Philip had any choice, he would have turned around and left immediately.


    Unfortunately, he had no such choice. To arm his serf soldiers, he needed at least 500 weapons. As Michael opened the warehouse doors, Philip was momentarily awestruck. Rows upon rows of neatly arranged weapons greeted him. While not of the finest quality, they were serviceable enough.


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    "Go ahead and select the items you need. The weapons you see here are exactly what you''ll receive," Michael said generously, as if offering a great favor.


    Philip examined the materials while discreetly checking the price tags. As rumored, the prices were not excessively high. The cheapest items were spearheads at 5 silver coins each, while the most expensive was a fully iron forged sword priced at 1 gold and 5 silver. Reinforced wooden shields were priced at 1 gold apiece.


    Calculating quickly, Philip estimated the cost of equipping 100 elite soldiers with swords, spears, and shields, and 400 regular soldiers with just shields and spears. The total came to 900 gold. Not an unreasonable amount, he admitted grudgingly.


    The straightforward transaction, devoid of haggling, left Michael equally satisfied. "Then it''s settled. I''ll have the items delivered to you by the end of the month. As for transportation, we''ll keep it simple¡ªjust cover meals for the haulers. Let''s say 10 gold?"


    Philip''s hands trembled as he handed over the payment, his resentment palpable.


    Watching Philip leave, his fury barely contained, Michael couldn''t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. Perhaps it was lingering bitterness from the forced relocation of his estate.


    "[Michael, making a lot of money today too? But when''s the bank going to be built?]" came a voice in his mind.


    "Ah, sorry, sorry. I''ve been so busy lately, I haven''t had time to dig up the grave. I''ll get to it soon."


    "[Why a grave?]"


    "We need someone who can dedicate themselves entirely to managing the bank and investments. Everyone around me is far too busy."


    "[If that''s the case, it can''t be helped. Is my money being saved properly, though?]"


    "Don''t worry. Your money, Marcus''s money, and the others'' are all being saved and managed perfectly."


    "[Others'' money?]"


    "Remember when you bragged in front of the other monsters and knights came swarming in? Thanks to that, monsters started earning annual salaries. Now they ask me to convert their salaries into bonds for investment."


    "[Ah, that! Well, we could say we''re trendsetters.]" The proud tone of the voice made Michael smile.


    Still, the thought nagged at him. He really needed to dig up that grave soon. If he delayed any further, the monsters might revolt.


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 Chapter 125 Plunder Everything!

    Riding on Marcus''s broad back, Michael flew toward the graveyard accompanied by Isper and Leonardo. With two individuals to resurrect today, their assistance was indispensable.


    Marcus''s powerful wingbeats made the air around them hum with weighty vibrations. Leonardo, consumed with excitement, had a manic gleam in his eyes that shimmered even in the darkness.


    "To witness my master''s divine power again! I must immortalize this moment in a mural someday!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with reverence and awe.


    Michael, unfazed, paid him no mind, letting the words pass in one ear and out the other. Instead, his attention turned to Isper, whose stiff expression stood out against the night.


    "Isper, why do you look so tense?" Michael asked.


    Isper hesitated before replying in a quiet voice, "I suppose I''ve spent so much time in the shadows that being out in the open feels strange."


    Michael didn''t respond, but he silently acknowledged Isper''s unwavering loyalty, appreciating the shadows in which his ally had faithfully protected him all this time.


    By now, Marcus had grown accustomed to these nocturnal journeys to the graveyard. As they approached their destination, the great beast descended smoothly, his enormous wings casting shadows over the trees and rocks below.


    "I''ll rest here. Be quick," Marcus muttered, his eyes half-closed as he watched Michael dismount. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Thank you, Marcus," Michael said before disappearing into the darkness with his companions.


    Having done this several times before, Michael quickly located their targets. After guiding Isper and Leonardo to the sites they needed to excavate, he began digging as well. The soft black earth scattered under the thrust of his spade.


    This particular grave revealed its coffin more quickly than others, likely because no one had bothered to conduct a proper burial. As Michael brushed the remaining dirt away, a decayed and corroded coffin lid came into view.


    He paused briefly, looking down at the coffin. The air seemed to grow heavy with the anguish and resentment of the soul buried within. Taking a deep breath, Michael carefully opened the lid to reveal the charred remains of a corpse.


    The sight was harrowing. Once a man who had wielded immense power over the entire financial system of the Rubel Continent, the body before him now lay reduced to ash and ruin, consumed by fire. This was Zark de Murray, the former Grand Commander of the Radiant Holy Kingdom''s Paladin Order and financial administrator to Pope Clement, the 175th pontiff.


    As Grand Commander, Zark had displayed unparalleled brilliance, transforming the paladin order into a force not only of military might but also of economic and political influence. Under his stewardship, the order''s wealth and power grew exponentially, consolidating the Holy Kingdom''s finances.


    Yet his exceptional talents became his downfall. Despite devoting his life to the kingdom and the church, Zark fell victim to envy and betrayal, becoming a scapegoat for his adversaries. His death marked the beginning of the Holy Kingdom''s decline¡ªa bitter irony of history.


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    Before being burned at the stake, Zark had declared to the crowd, "The true heresy lies within the Radiance itself!" His final words, drowned out by the roaring flames, became the stuff of legend.


    Now, Michael sought to resurrect this tormented soul. With his deep hatred for the Holy Kingdom and his unparalleled financial acumen, Zark would be the perfect steward for the Crassus Bank.


    Michael placed his hand on the fragile remains, chanting an incantation with practiced precision. A cold energy emanated from his fingertips, enveloping the surrounding air.


    "Resurrectionis electio!"


    The atmosphere around the grave began to vibrate, and the extraordinary scene unfolded before their eyes. Zark''s charred body began to transform. Blood flowed through his veins again, his desiccated flesh regrew, and life returned to his lifeless form.


    The bitterness and pain etched into Zark''s face gradually faded, replaced by vitality. With a gasp, his eyes flew open, blazing with new life. For a moment, Zark appeared disoriented, but understanding soon dawned upon him.


    Like the other resurrected souls, he knelt before Michael. "You have pulled me from the endless abyss, my true master. Thank you for granting me this chance for vengeance."


    His voice carried a mixture of emotions¡ªdevotion to Michael, seething anger toward the Holy Kingdom and its pope, and above all, profound relief at escaping death''s clutches.


    Michael glanced toward Leonardo and Isper, who were calling out from another part of the graveyard. It seemed their excavation was taking longer, even with both of them working together. With a nod to the newly resurrected Zark, who was still unsteady on his feet, Michael walked toward his companions.


    He found them digging through a pit filled with a chaotic jumble of skeletal remains. The grave had been neglected for years, causing the bones to become entangled. Thankfully, Leonardo and Isper''s anatomical expertise allowed them to swiftly sort through the remains.


    Once reassembled, they identified nine distinct skeletons¡ªjust as legend described. Michael carefully examined the remains, noting the ravages of time. He inspected each skeleton for distinguishing features, his methodical approach soon rewarded. Among the bones, he found a skull bearing an eyepatch.


    A faint smile crossed Michael''s face as he rested his hand on the skeleton with the eyepatch. This was none other than Drake "Billy" Kidd, the legendary pirate captain.


    "Resurrectionis electio!"


    In an instant, the air around them fell silent. Drake Billy Kidd, once the scourge of the seas, began to stir.


    Michael envisioned using Drake and his crew to recreate the legendary privateering of old aboard an ancient ship. The idea had come to him when Miaomiao explained the family''s treasure ship, which could conceal itself in mist and evade detection. Combining this unique characteristic with Drake''s unparalleled skills promised the creation of the ultimate privateer vessel.


    Drake approached Michael and knelt respectfully. "My lord, before I pledge my loyalty, I have a question."


    Michael nodded, signaling him to proceed. "Ask anything."


    A mix of emotions flickered in Drake''s eyes as he prepared to unburden himself of a weight he had carried for centuries. "My beloved, Ariel de Celeste... Has she passed?"

 Chapter 126 The Crassus Bank

    A heavy silence settled between them. Michael had anticipated this question, knowing Drake''s life had been entwined with the queen''s in ways both painful and tumultuous.


    "She passed long ago," Michael replied quietly. "She never married and left the throne to her nephew."


    Drake''s expression shifted subtly¡ªwas it hatred or regret? He bowed his head slightly and spoke with a hint of relief. "Then I won''t need to end her life with my own hands. Thank you."


    His voice carried a blend of sorrow and solace, reflecting the complex and unresolved bond he had shared with her. However, Michael quickly brought the conversation back to the present.


    "What''s important now isn''t your past but your abilities," Michael said, his tone firm. "If I revive your crew, will you serve me without hesitation?"


    Drake''s head shot up, a spark of life reigniting in his eyes. "If you can do that, I will give you everything, my lord."


    Michael, satisfied with Drake''s unwavering determination, nodded. "Very well," he said, turning to the skeletal remains of Drake''s loyal crew. To operate a privateer ship effectively, he needed capable and discreet sailors, and Drake''s men fit the bill.


    One by one, Michael revived them. Drake reunited with his crew in a tearful display, their shared bonds transcending even death. Watching the scene, Michael allowed them a moment before stepping in.


    "Save your reunion for later," he said. "It''s time to show you the ship you''ll be commanding."


    Michael led Drake and his crew to a hidden coastal cave deep within the ancient graveyard. This secluded location would serve as their base for future privateering operations. Building a proper harbor or engaging in large-scale trade was out of the question for now. Instead, Michael saw greater value in small-scale piracy¡ªamassing wealth and targeting ships belonging to the Radiant Holy Kingdom.


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    As they reached the cave, Drake and his men fell silent, awestruck by the sight of the ancient treasure ship. Though seasoned sailors who had seen countless vessels, they immediately recognized that this was no ordinary ship. It emanated an aura of ancient power and secrecy.


    Overwhelmed by their good fortune, Drake and his men marveled at the prospect of reclaiming dominance over the seas. As demons, most of their abilities were linked to ship navigation, but Drake''s unique talent stood out: astral projection.


    Michael glanced at Drake with mild amusement. "I take it this ability reflects how much you wanted to stay by the queen''s side during your life," he remarked with a faint smirk before clearing his throat.


    "It''s a useful power," Michael continued. "It''ll make communication with me much easier."


    "Yes, my lord," Drake replied. "I will use it to report on the situation as we conduct our missions."


    Michael left them with one clear directive: "Plunder every ship belonging to the Radiant Holy Kingdom!"


    Returning to the castle, Michael and Zark began an extensive discussion. They needed to finalize the purpose of the soon-to-be-established bank and decide how the resources, including the wealth recovered from Drake''s hidden treasure, would be reinvested.


    "The bank must not be limited to simple financial management," Zark began, his tone resolute. "Our ambitions must be larger and more strategic."


    Michael nodded. "I agree. How do you propose we operate?"


    Zark outlined his plan. "The initial capital will come from the demon contracts and the hidden treasures we''ve accumulated. We should focus on commercial investments, particularly in high-value goods like war supplies and precious metals, given the current climate."


    "And we''ll reinvest the profits?" Michael asked.


    "Exactly. The next step is real estate," Zark continued. "Real estate is both a stable asset and a critical means of strengthening ties with the elite. During wartime, many nobles will offer land and estates as collateral. We must seize these opportunities."


    Michael nodded, absorbing Zark''s insights. "Do you have any other ideas?"


    "We could also provide discreet loans to the Radiant Holy Kingdom, the Celeste Empire, and neighboring duchies in exchange for bonds," Zark suggested.


    "Wouldn''t that draw too much attention to the bank?" Michael asked, skeptical.


    Zark smiled knowingly. "That''s where discretion comes in. I specialize in covert operations. We''ll establish multiple secret branches that appear unrelated on the surface. The bank''s key functions must be entrusted to reliable managers. Just as Drake has his crew, I have my own network. Many of them were executed alongside me, but if you revive them, they''ll be invaluable assets."


    Michael raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You have more capable people like yourself? The more talent we have, the better."


    Trusting Zark implicitly as one of his loyal demons, Michael agreed. "I''ll leave this entirely in your hands. I expect great results."


    With that, the foundation of the Crassus Bank was laid. Michael reflected on the immense potential of his team and silently honored the foreign forces who had sacrificed to empower him.


    Despite Philip''s repeated efforts, the Barony of Fitzroy remained in ruins. Once fertile farmland now lay overrun with useless weeds. Reports continued to confirm that it would take at least one or two years just to restore the desolated land to a functional state.


    "This is outrageous! How could this happen?" Philip exclaimed, rising abruptly from his chair. His eyes burned with fury as he gazed out the window at his devastated estate, feeling the weight of unrelenting despair. Even if time healed the land, the humiliation of this situation would linger.


    Though he was a bastard son, Philip was still the offspring of the most powerful noble in the northwestern provinces. He had confidence in his abilities and had never considered his birth a hindrance. Yet this disgrace threatened to amplify the whispers surrounding his lineage.


    Philip''s anger flared anew. Count Charles and Michael¡ªthose scheming individuals¡ªhad cornered him with their treachery. The count''s motive was clear: to prevent the northwestern nobles from exploiting the empty lands of the northeast, using Philip''s case as a stark warning.


    Clenching his fists, Philip vowed he would not tolerate this humiliation. No matter how long it took, he would restore his estate. And when that time came, those who had mocked him would pay the price for his disgrace. S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 127 Preparing For War

    "What''s the status of the investigation?" he asked curtly. His steward replied with caution.


    "As expected, my lord, there is no evidence linking the Crassus family to the destruction of the estate. It appears to be the work of Count Charles''s faction."


    Philip scowled, frustration tightening his features. "Even so, we can''t move against Count Charles. The man is always surrounded by guards¡­"


    He trailed off, deep in thought. "I''ve heard that Sir Michael often travels alone. Is that true?"


    The steward nodded. "It''s true that he ventures out alone at times, but don''t take that too literally. He''s always accompanied by the sphinx, and he frequently rides the dragon Marcus."


    Philip narrowed his eyes, jealousy threading through his tone. Though aware that others were responsible for the ruin of his estate, he fixated on Michael, channeling his resentment toward him. Michael''s reputation and abilities were a constant source of irritation for Philip. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Is the sphinx really so formidable? Surely Michael himself is nothing special?" he pressed, a competitive edge in his voice.


    Sensing Philip''s hubris, the steward bowed slightly and spoke carefully. "My lord, it would be unwise to underestimate Sir Michael''s prowess. Though he received no formal training, his innate talent allowed him to awaken his aura. He is also renowned as a master archer. To ambush him successfully, you''d need at least five knights and two hundred soldiers. Even then, the risk of retaliation would be high. It might be better to wait for another opportunity."


    Despite the steward''s words of caution, Philip''s expression darkened further. His emotions churned¡ªa volatile mix of rage and frustration. "Are you saying I''m not capable of handling him?" he growled.


    The steward softened his tone, hoping to soothe his lord''s bruised ego. "My lord, even a tiger uses its full strength to hunt a rabbit. This isn''t about your lack of ability, but rather¡­"


    "Enough!" Philip interrupted angrily. "You''re telling me I can''t compete with him in wealth, can''t ambush him, and should just live quietly in disgrace? Is that it?" Find exclusive stories on My Virtual Library Empire


    The steward bowed his head, choosing his words carefully. Why does he think he''s so wronged? he mused silently. For a duke''s illegitimate son, being raised to the rank of baron with significant support isn''t bad at all. Does he expect the world to praise him like they do Sir Michael?


    Philip''s simmering insecurities made him unwilling to listen. Yet deep down, he knew he lacked the power to act. For now, he resolved to bide his time, endure the humiliation, and strike later¡ªperhaps during the war, when circumstances might work in his favor.


    As Philip stewed in his thoughts, the steward hesitantly spoke again. "My lord, Sir Michael''s personal abilities may be impressive, but his family''s strength is not as remarkable. Look at the land they''ve chosen to exploit¡ªa mere iron mine beneath a lake. Their weapons are of such poor quality that while they may sell for now, it won''t last in the long run."


    The steward''s analysis provided Philip with some comfort. Seeing his lord take an interest in his words, the steward felt relieved. "Once their short-term mining ventures dry up, they''ll be forced to rely on farming. In the grand scheme of things, what significance does that hold? Meanwhile, your lordship will achieve great military feats in the upcoming war and rise far above Sir Michael. His power likely depends on the dragon and sphinx anyway."


    Though the steward''s words were largely speculative, Philip found solace in the flattery. Ignorant of the wealth Michael had accumulated through the iron mine and other ventures, Philip took satisfaction in the reassurance, his mood improving at last.


    While Philip and his steward debated Michael''s future, Michael himself was preoccupied with his next endeavor. With the rush of low-grade weapons behind him, he shifted his focus to training heavy cavalry.


    "Master Michael! These armors you''ve provided are magnificent. With these, we can achieve great victories in the war!" exclaimed Sir Ronald as he approached Michael with enthusiasm.


    The armors Michael had delivered were light enough for ordinary soldiers to wear while offering excellent protection. Traditionally, heavy cavalry required seasoned warriors nurtured by noble families over many years, but these armors allowed even regular soldiers to perform as heavy cavalry.


    The sight of 120 soldiers clad in crimson armor wielding lances was a spectacle to behold. Their precise, unified movements were awe-inspiring. Michael commended Sir Ronald, along with Alex and Anthony, for their efforts.


    "Well done. Keep up the good work," Michael said with approval.


    Wearing the gleaming red armor Michael had retrieved from the underground temple, the soldiers responded with fervent shouts of loyalty. By now, they were ready to follow Michael into even the fiercest inferno.


    In the office of the Papacy within the Radiant Holy Kingdom, news reached Pope Allegro III that ignited uncontrollable fury. His face reddened as he leapt to his feet.


    "What? That damned emperor expelled our archbishop?" he bellowed.


    Allegro III was momentarily at a loss for words. It was bad enough that the second prince he had supported failed to ascend to the throne of the Celeste Empire. Now, the archbishop, accused of interfering in the succession, had been unceremoniously dismissed. Following the failure of his plans in the Alpha Kingdom, this latest setback felt like the world mocking him.


    "Draft a statement immediately," Allegro III ordered firmly. "We cannot acknowledge this insult under any circumstances."


    Though resolute in his outward response, the pope inwardly seethed with frustration. The Papacy could present a bold front to the outside world, but internally, someone would have to take the fall.


    His gaze settled on Vito, the captain of the First Paladin Order, who had already failed him once before.


    "Your Holiness," Vito said, stepping forward with dignity, "this failure stems from my inability to properly control public opinion. I take full responsibility."


    Though he had prepared his allies behind the scenes, Vito knew it was necessary to appear accountable in public. Before the pope could respond, Cardinal Soleno intervened.

 Chapter 128 Michaels Army

    "Your Holiness," Soleno began, "while it''s true that Captain Vito cannot be absolved of all responsibility, it would be unjust to lay the entire blame on him. The Celeste Empire is far from our reach, with many kingdoms between us. Information may have been miscommunicated or delayed. It would not be wise to punish him excessively under these circumstances."


    Allegro III''s frustration erupted in a loud, angry exclamation. "How did the sacred Radiance come to this? Once we ruled the entire Rubel Continent, and now we cower before the Celeste Empire!"


    His voice was laden with a mix of disappointment and anger. The Papacy, which had once dominated the continent, had devolved into a shadow of its former power, forced to watch its actions and defer to lesser kingdoms. This was the reality Allegro III had inherited¡ªa crumbling institution riddled with internal decay.


    The officials gathered in the pope''s office were more politicians than clergy, and Vito''s offer to take responsibility wasn''t born of guilt. Someone had to take the blame, and as the lowest ranking individual present, Vito had stepped forward to protect his superiors.


    However, making Vito a scapegoat outright would only provoke infighting among factions vying for his position¡ªa conflict that could destabilize the Paladin Order and, by extension, weaken the pope''s authority.


    Cardinal Jacobo, who had already received a nod from the pope, spoke up. "Your Holiness, while Cardinal Soleno raises valid points, there must still be accountability. Even if Captain Vito bears no direct fault, some of his subordinates may have played a role in this debacle. Silently removing those individuals would restore the Papacy''s authority while preserving Captain Vito''s honor."


    Jacobo''s suggestion was calculated, offering a compromise. It allowed for a clear assignment of blame without fully sacrificing Vito, maintaining internal stability while eliminating dissent within the Paladin Order. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After a brief contemplation, Allegro III nodded in agreement. "Do it. Captain Vito must cleanse his order of any corruption and reestablish firm leadership. Punish those responsible for this failure but ensure the Paladin Order as a whole remains intact."


    Kneeling before the pope, Vito responded with solemn determination. "Thank you, Your Holiness, for your guidance. I will root out the rot within my order without delay."


    As Vito left, Allegro III''s mind churned with frustration. Why had these disasters plagued his tenure? The Papacy had begun to rot generations ago, with high ranking positions often inherited by the illegitimate offspring of elites. Reforming such a deeply ingrained system now seemed nearly impossible. Find adventures at My Virtual Library Empire


    Allegro III himself had benefited from the privileges of his birth into a clerical family, using those advantages to ascend to the papacy. It would be hypocritical to demand others forgo the same path. Gazing out the window, he reflected on the precarious balance of factions within the Papacy. While they created constant friction, they also maintained equilibrium, preventing any single group from gaining unchecked power.


    "Jacobo," he said at last, "how is the situation progressing?"


    Jacobo, his head bowed, replied confidently. "Do not worry, Your Holiness. Four of the five great tribes have agreed to support us, and the last is on the verge of joining."


    Satisfied, Allegro III nodded. "Good. The Kingdom of Lania has pushed us too far. We won''t let them prosper unchallenged¡ªespecially not their northeastern nobles. Let them fight if they''re so eager. Let''s see how long their bravado lasts."


    Recent provocations from Lania and its northeastern nobles had cost the Papacy dearly, and Allegro III was determined to send a powerful warning. The time had come to stoke the flames of war, using the Pamir Empire to turn the Rubel Continent into a battlefield.


    Jacobo showed no surprise at the pope''s decision. He had seen other popes use similar tactics. "As Your Holiness commands. Soon, the continent will once again look to the Radiant Holy Kingdom for salvation."


    A month had passed since Princess Adelaide had subtly warned Michael of the impending war. His primary focus now was the production of military supplies. Based on his observations during his visit to the capital and numerous other signs, this war was shaping up to be massive.


    Wars of this scale were more than capable of weakening great nobles and utterly destroying smaller ones. For every success in war, there were countless failures. Michael, aware of his own limitations, refused to overestimate his abilities. History had shown him that overconfidence was the root of all defeats. The ultimate victor in any war, he knew, was the one who survived.


    To survive, preparation was essential. What was the most critical factor in leading an army and achieving military success? Troops? Strength? No¡ªit was a strong logistical foundation. No strategy or strength could endure without financial and material support.


    Michael''s current priorities included equipping his soldiers, ensuring an adequate food supply, and securing supply lines in case the war dragged on. Staring out over his still developing estate, Michael sighed deeply. A little more time would have been ideal, but war''s footsteps drew nearer every day.


    From a continental perspective, his territory was still too weak; even within the Kingdom of Lania, it lagged behind. At best, his name carried some weight in the northeastern provinces. Though he had added one more knight to his ranks, it wasn''t enough to make a significant impact in the coming conflict. His force of 120 heavy cavalry and 12 gargoyle riders was a modest comfort.


    Alongside Marcus and his grandfather, Alfred, Michael''s power ranked just below that of Count Charles. Yet these resources had to remain his trump card; an overly aggressive move could invite disaster.


    Determined to maximize his preparations for the war, Michael mobilized every resource his house could muster.


    "Alex, tell the miners to extract as much iron ore as possible," Michael instructed. "Antony, inform Old Greg to ramp up low quality weapon production. If necessary, offer night pay and hire more workers to run operations around the clock. And we need more high quality weapons for our own troops."

 Chapter 129 Official Decree... Full-Scale Mobilization

    For Michael, selling substandard weapons was both a business opportunity and a form of civic duty, helping to defend the kingdom. If rowing while the tide is high was ever apt, it was now. In a way, producing these weapons was a noble effort, contributing to national defense and aiding neighboring territories.


    A blast of magical energy erupted through the mist, striking the port side of the ship Pavilion with a bright flash. The vessel, tasked with transporting grain from the Radiant Holy Kingdom to the Pamir Empire, reeled as crew members¡ªdisguised paladins¡ªscreamed and fell to the deck.


    While trained as sailors, their lack of experience made it impossible to stabilize the ship under such conditions. Sir Jared, captain of the Pavilion and one of the Radiant Holy Kingdom''s Paladin Order leaders, wiped the sweat from his brow, grinding his teeth in frustration.


    The fog thickened as the ship swayed precariously once more. Jared''s voice thundered across the deck. "Where is the enemy firing from?"


    His cry echoed across the sea, but only another volley of magical energy answered. The source of the attack was impossible to discern, as though they were being assaulted by a ghost ship. Hidden in the mist, the unseen enemy seemed to mock them with every strike.


    The attack had begun suddenly. Awakened by the deafening sound of cannon fire, Jared had rushed to the deck only to find his ship enveloped in fog. Blue flashes of light pierced the darkness, sending his already disoriented crew into a panic.


    Although the Pavilion was a magically armed transport vessel, its weaponry was useless in the face of an unseen enemy. Jared barked orders, urging his men to retaliate, but it was a futile effort. They had no idea whether their counterattacks were even landing.


    Some of his subordinates argued that they should fight to the end, insisting they couldn''t betray the Radiant Holy Kingdom. But Jared silenced them. As the son of a high-ranking archbishop, he had too much to lose. He had no intention of dying in the middle of the sea at the hands of an unknown foe. Find more to read on My Virtual Library Empire


    When the crew raised a white flag of surrender, the relentless assault finally ceased. Drake, standing triumphantly aboard his pirate ship, stepped onto the deck of the Pavilion to celebrate their first raid.


    He spotted the captain immediately¡ªa man in his underclothes, unarmed and trembling. Meanwhile, the other crew members were fully dressed and armed. A sneer crossed Drake''s face. The Holy Kingdom truly has fallen into ruin.


    "W-we surrender! Spare our lives, I beg of you!" Jared stammered, his eyes wide with desperation.


    Shaking his head, Drake glared at the defeated captain. "Silence, coward. The moment you raised the white flag, you lost all claim to respect. Luka! Throw this disgrace overboard."


    Jared protested frantically. "Wait! No captain deserves to be treated this way! This is all my crew''s incompetence¡ª"


    Luka, grinning wickedly, approached Jared. "You crawled out in your underwear, and you dare call yourself a captain? We''re pirates, not the navy! Now, go give the sea a kiss!"


    Jared struggled, but Luka''s grip was unyielding. As Jared screamed, he was hurled into the ocean, to the cheers of Drake''s crew.


    Reborn from lives filled with resentment, they now served Michael as devoted followers, their mission focused on plundering the Holy Kingdom''s ships.


    Drake and his crew explored the ship, inspecting their spoils. The cargo hold and all storage areas were packed with grain¡ªnot gold or jewels, which was disappointing, but the quantity was substantial enough to count as a successful first raid.


    In the captain''s quarters, Drake discovered secret correspondence between the Radiant Holy Kingdom and the Pamir Empire. Smirking, he scanned the letters, which were filled with enthusiastic support for an invasion of the Kingdom of Lania. The documents also revealed detailed shipping schedules and routes for additional supply ships.


    "Thanks to our master, we''re exacting proper revenge on the Holy Kingdom," Drake muttered with satisfaction.


    As he strode out of the captain''s quarters, his cape billowing behind him, he erupted into laughter. "Kill them all! Let these so-called holy servants meet their end!"


    A month passed in the blink of an eye. Word spread quickly that the massive army of the Pamir Empire was advancing toward the northeastern provinces. Duke Woodrock and Count Charles urgently summoned a high-level meeting of the nobility.


    Wyverns soared from Count Charles''s estate, carrying messages far and wide. Nobles from across the region, including Dominic and Michael from the Crassus Viscounty, soon arrived. Even lords who had clashed over territorial disputes set aside their grievances to confront their shared enemy¡ªthe Pamir Empire''s invading forces.


    The gathering became a flurry of alliances, with nobles scrambling to secure mutual support. The Crassus family, once overlooked, now enjoyed newfound prestige thanks to Michael''s rising prominence. Count Charles''s warm smile as he greeted Michael reflected this change in status.


    Surveying the assembly, Michael discreetly identified the key figures with his father''s guidance. Of the fifteen families represented, seven belonged to Count Charles''s faction¡ªan impressive display of the count''s influence as the leading force in the northeastern provinces.


    "This document is an official decree from the royal court," announced Count Charles solemnly, holding up a scroll. "You may read it, but it must not leave this room."


    Behind him stood a mage holding an enchanted seal. "Before we proceed, I must ask you all to sign this confidentiality contract. It is essential for maintaining secrecy ahead of the war."


    The kingdom''s security measures were stringent, relying on magical contracts rather than mere verbal oaths. Once signed, the contract imposed a faint sense of binding. As long as the agreement was honored, it would remain unobtrusive. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "You''ve all seen the signs¡ªthis war will be no ordinary conflict," Count Charles began. His voice carried across the room, commanding attention. The gathered nobles exchanged uneasy glances.


    "The Pamir Emperor has ordered a full-scale mobilization. Even with two allied nations sharing the burden, our kingdom will face the brunt of the assault. As the northeastern provinces are the kingdom''s frontline, we will be the first to engage the enemy. I trust that each of you has prepared based on your intelligence."

 Chapter 130 Every Citizen Is A Soldier

    A murmur spread through the assembly before Count Charles raised a hand to silence it.


    "I have summoned you here because King Charles V has issued a critical directive. From this moment, our kingdom will operate under the principle that every citizen is a soldier."


    He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. Determination and apprehension flickered across the faces of the gathered lords.


    "Our northeastern provinces are tasked with mobilizing between 100,000 and 150,000 soldiers. While this entire force won''t be deployed at once, the first expeditionary army alone must number at least 70,000. In our last great war, the sacrifices made by nobles, commoners, and serfs alike were immeasurable."


    The grim memory of those losses caused many to clench their fists.


    "To avoid a similar fate, we must prepare thoroughly. This directive is not optional. Each domain must contribute its assigned number of soldiers, by whatever means necessary."


    The room buzzed with hushed conversations until Count Charles''s voice cut through again, firm and unyielding.


    "This is a war for the kingdom''s survival¡ªthere will be no negotiations. By the decree of His Majesty King Charles V, I have been appointed Governor-General of the northeastern provinces and granted full military authority. I expect your complete cooperation."


    The announcement sent ripples of surprise through the assembly. Michael, too, was taken aback. While he had anticipated a large-scale conflict, the mobilization of the entire population was unprecedented. Was the Pamir Emperor truly so reckless in his twilight years? Regardless, the royal court''s resolve was clear, signaling the severity of the situation.


    Meeting his father''s gaze, Michael nodded. Preparing for the worst, he resolved to train every able-bodied serf and citizen in his domain.


    "Governor-General, while it is only right to follow the royal court''s directive, the issue of cost must be addressed," spoke Viscount Wyatt with a calculated air of concern. Located at the southernmost tip of the northeastern provinces, his domain was relatively insulated from immediate threats, making him reluctant to bear the financial burden.


    Sensing an opportunity, Michael interjected. If he intended to train his own serfs and citizens, securing food supplies was paramount¡ªand he happened to have an abundance of it.


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    "Governor-General, Viscount Wyatt raises a valid point," Michael said. "Many domains are still recovering from last winter''s devastation caused by fanatics. If the entire population is to be trained, food production will give way to consumption, driving up grain prices and leaving many unable to cope with the rising costs."


    Count Charles raised an eyebrow. "And what do you propose?"


    "I suggest that the central command purchase surplus grain from the estates and redistribute it to impoverished nobles and their domains," Michael explained. "Our family, for instance, has a considerable stockpile of grain left over from our recent relocation. We procured it through contacts in the southern regions but didn''t end up needing as much as anticipated. I believe other families may also have reserves that could be put to use."


    It was the perfect opportunity to offload the massive quantities of grain accumulated through Drake''s successful raids.


    Count Charles considered Michael''s proposal, his expression thoughtful. It was clear that while the war would demand sacrifices from everyone, those who played their cards right¡ªlike Michael¡ªstood to gain.


    Count Charles fell into deep thought after hearing Michael''s proposal. As wrinkles formed on his forehead, the tension in the conference room grew. With the large-scale war looming, it was essential for the nobles within the castle to stockpile grain.


    Baron Kensington, catching Michael''s gaze, added his voice to the discussion.


    "Your Excellency, the Governor. Sir Michael''s proposal is excellent. Self-sufficiency in food during a war is absolutely necessary. If the nobles who have extra grain release it and the leadership purchases it to curb price hikes, it will greatly benefit us."


    Others nodded in agreement, relief mixing into their expressions. Selling surplus grain now was preferable to having it seized later under the guise of requisition at a low price.


    "What do you think, Court Count Woodlock? Would it be acceptable to use military funds to purchase surplus grain and sell it to minor nobles?"


    Since the suggestion aligned with the king''s orders, Count Woodlock had no reason to oppose it. The nobles gathered here were the affluent ones from the northeastern planet. As such, they could amass a substantial amount of grain. Affordable food always helped stabilize public sentiment.


    "Well, if we can buy it cheaply and stockpile provisions for the war, it would certainly be a great help. I''ll request the royal family for a budget allocation. How much grain do you all have in reserve?"


    "Our Charles family can offer about 1,000 seok of wheat. Let''s set the price at 90% of the market rate," Count Charles responded.


    The conditions seemed reasonable. Dominic then spoke up.


    "Our Crassus barony has a fair amount of stockpiled grain. We can provide 1,500 seok of wheat and 1,000 seok of oats at the same rate as Count Charles."


    Once they set the tone, others eagerly offered their surplus grain. From Count Charles'' and Court Count Woodlock''s perspectives, it was an excellent way to stockpile provisions, while the nobles could sell their excess grain and procure military supplies.


    When the meeting concluded, Dominic left the conference room with his son, overwhelmed with joy. Previously, as a minor noble, he had been in the position of buying food. Now, thanks to his son, he could sell his surplus grain.


    Dominic gazed at Michael with deep affection.


    "I never thought our family''s fortunes would turn around like this. It''s all thanks to you."


    "Not at all, Father. It''s the result of everyone''s efforts," Michael replied. S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Dominic laughed heartily and patted Michael''s shoulder.


    "Don''t be so modest. I''ve been the lord for almost 50 years, but no one has ever benefited the territory as much as you have. Thank you."


    While Michael basked in his father''s praise, Philip was seething with frustration. Reading the letter from his father had left him utterly incredulous.


    "Make contributions in the northeastern planet because circumstances don''t allow it here? Then he should send reinforcements!"

 Chapter 131 Forging Alliances

    Philip threw the letter aside, venting his dissatisfaction. His father''s words were vastly different from what he had been told when he was first sent here. It felt like his father was exiling him to this remote place to die for his older brother''s benefit.


    Initially, Philip had been scheduled to join the war from the northwestern palace. He had expected to earn merits there alongside his father''s subordinates, just as before. But now, the letter merely instructed him to remain in the northeastern planet and make contributions from there. sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Is this an attempt to isolate me? To cut me off completely from the family?"


    In truth, the duke had ordered Philip to stay in the northeastern planet for his own safety¡ªa strategic decision to avoid putting all eggs in one basket. Although Philip was an illegitimate child, he was still his father''s blood. However, to Philip, who had been experiencing a series of misfortunes lately, the letter seemed like nothing more than a plot to distance him further.


    "What now? I was supposed to join forces with Father''s subordinates at the northwestern palace. That way, I wouldn''t need to ally with the nobles here, and I could earn merits. But now I''m expected to survive here alone. Does this even make sense?"


    Philip''s voice carried despair. The butler, who had raised him since childhood, stepped forward.


    "My lord, please don''t worry too much. Surely there are nobles here willing to cooperate..."


    Philip shook his head at the butler''s na?ve optimism.


    "Can''t you see the state of the territory? This place is full of people who would rather devour me than cooperate. If they don''t stab me in the back, I''d consider myself lucky."


    Philip sank into deep contemplation. The 500 soldiers his father had assigned him might make him one of the stronger barons in the northeastern planet. However, that was only relevant in territorial disputes or rebellion suppression¡ªnot in a full-scale war.


    For survival, nobles were encouraged to ally and form coalitions, typically organizing armies based on proximity or familial ties.


    On the northern border, the Lania Kingdom was already at a numerical disadvantage. Unity was crucial for survival. Yet, there were no nobles in the northeastern planet willing to ally with Philip.


    Should he defy his father''s orders and recklessly return home? Philip gritted his teeth. That was out of the question. Without an official command bearing his father''s seal, he could not leave the northeastern planet on his own accord.


    Protecting the territory was a noble''s duty. Even if the only freemen left were the families of the soldiers he had brought, it remained his responsibility. Abandoning his territory would mean losing everything as a noble. Find more chapters on My Virtual Library Empire


    But allying with small forces? What would that achieve? Minor forces couldn''t change the tides of war or earn significant merits.


    The more Philip thought about it, the more resentment he felt toward his father for sending him to such a place.


    "Hmm... If I may give you a hint, yes. It seems the war won''t be limited to the northern region but will engulf the entire kingdom. Dispatches will soon be sent to every castle," Dominic said.


    The confirmation of what he had dreaded turned Lord Broad''s face pale. For a mere knight who had not even ascended to the rank of baron, this news was like a bolt from the blue. After hesitating briefly, Broad finally got to the point.


    "Forgive my audacity, but I have a request. From what I can see, Lord Dominic and Sir Michael are more than capable of leading an entire legion. The North has always been the first region to be engulfed in war. My family, though modest, is also making preparations." Broad carefully observed Dominic and Michael''s reactions before continuing.


    "When war breaks out, armies are often formed based on regions, but they are also sometimes freely organized. Compatibility among forces is crucial for effective combat. Though my family is small, I can muster about 100 soldiers. If possible, I would like our forces to be integrated into Lord Dominic''s legion during the war..."


    Dominic, who had already discussed such scenarios with Michael, maintained a neutral expression, neither accepting nor rejecting the proposal. Broad, growing anxious at Dominic''s ambiguous response, decided to speak more directly.


    "If you accept, I will lead my entire household to the Crassus Barony and stand with you in life and death," Broad offered.


    Dominic smiled at the reply he had been waiting for. Simply joining a legion would not be enough to make it worthwhile. It was crucial to determine if Broad could become a reliable ally. Michael had no intention of laboring on behalf of others without a clear gain.


    Lord Broad trusted his instincts. Though the Crassus family might not be the most powerful in the northeastern planet, they had been blessed with good fortune so far. Momentum was a formidable force, especially on the battlefield. Reflecting on recent events, Michael had experienced nothing but success.


    Among the populace, there were even whispers that Michael, who commanded a sphinx and a dragon¡ªboth high-class magical beasts¡ªwas the reincarnation of a great being. No one could stand against a man blessed with public favor and good fortune.


    Broad believed that this moment was the time to stake everything his family had. Only by taking a firm stance now could his family remain under Michael''s protection. Other minor nobles with similar thoughts began to approach Michael as well, each seeking a powerful protector to shield them from the looming storm of war.


    Michael inwardly smiled. The more people under his command, the better.


    Meanwhile, preparations for war were not limited to the Lania Kingdom. The neighboring Pasha Kingdom and Elonia Kingdom were also accelerating their preparations. These two kingdoms, allied with Lania to resist the Pamir Empire''s aggression, were in slightly better circumstances than Lania.


    Unlike Lania, which often bore the brunt of full-scale wars, these two nations had only faced small-scale invasions in the past. When Lania announced its plans for a full-scale war, both kingdoms were greatly alarmed.

 Chapter 132 The Pamir Empires Launch Their Attack

    Of the two, the smaller Elonia Kingdom, which was closer to the Pamir Empire, was particularly shocked.


    "Has the Pamir Empire truly made its decision? Has the emperor finally gone mad?"


    Inside the royal palace of Elonia, King Henry III asked his ministers in a somber voice.


    "Since the news comes from the Lania Kingdom, it is likely accurate, Your Majesty. Having fought the Pamir Empire for decades, they know the empire better than anyone else. Even if this doesn''t escalate into a full-scale war, it is certain that the scale of conflict will be greater than before. It would be wise to prepare for the worst," Chancellor Mark replied cautiously.


    As the weakest of the three allied kingdoms, Elonia was particularly vulnerable. If the Pamir Empire chose to target them first, the consequences would be dire. General Louis agreed with the chancellor.


    "In past wars, the Pamir Empire often provoked all three kingdoms simultaneously. Those brutes, if nothing else, excel at breeding soldiers. Even when fighting three fronts at once, they show no hesitation."


    With his two most trusted advisors in agreement, King Henry III made his decision.


    "Then prepare for war with all our might! Fortify the strongholds and recruit soldiers."


    Although he did not consider himself an exceptional ruler, Henry III prided himself on being realistic. The Elonia Kingdom, with its small population and limited experience in warfare, was ill-equipped to withstand even a minor invasion.


    The Pamir Empire''s army was infamous for its cruelty, leaving no life behind in the lands they conquered. To make matters worse, this war had arrived on the heels of a devastating drought. Henry III could not help but wonder if the kingdom was nearing its doom.


    In the royal palace of the Lania Kingdom, King Charles V felt an unusual sense of calm as the war approached. The once divided court was now united in its focus on preparing for battle.


    "Your Majesty, the northeastern planet has requested a budget for grain stockpiling," an official reported.


    "Work with the military and treasury departments to allocate an appropriate budget. Be accommodating where possible, but reject any excessive demands," Charles V instructed.


    "Yes, Your Majesty. It shall be done."


    "Chancellor Lant, oversee the budget execution alongside the military, treasury, and the Senate. If there are any who dare exploit the kingdom even in this dire situation, they must not be tolerated!" the king declared with a stern expression.


    "And report which regions are the least active in preparing for war. In times of war, those who lack discipline do not deserve to survive."


    At that moment, the Pamir Empire''s forces launched their attack on the fortress of Elnimo in the northwestern planet.


    A week had passed since news of the Pamir Empire''s invasion first broke. With the ominous signs of war becoming an ever-more tangible reality, Michael stood atop the watchtower of the castle wall, his gaze calm yet penetrating. Other noble knights, all wearing solemn expressions, began ascending to the tower one by one. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Below the tower, the vast training grounds stretched far beyond what the eye could see, filled with soldiers of various appearances. These were men summoned from their respective territories, numbering over fifty thousand.


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    When Michael first heard of this figure, he had been astonished, though he quickly composed himself. These fifty thousand soldiers were drawn from every corner of the territories, a desperate effort to militarize the population. Every man between the ages of sixteen and forty had been conscripted, resulting in this staggering number.


    Naturally, not all of them were suitable for military service. Most had never undergone proper training, and a thorough process of selection and reorganization would be essential.


    From the Crassus Barony, Michael had brought 2,500 men, a number that might seem modest compared to other territories but represented most of the able-bodied men from his domain. Only 1,000 of them were adequately trained soldiers; the remaining 1,500 would have to be shifted to auxiliary roles to avoid being wasted in combat.


    Protecting them was critical, as losing this many men would devastate the barony''s economy and society, despite leaving behind the minimum number required to sustain the territory. Though the conscription had begun with the intent to militarize the entire population, it was clear that not all able-bodied men could be deployed as frontline combatants.


    Of the assembled force, only 10,000 to 20,000 would form the initial vanguard.


    As Count Charles surveyed the soldiers with a grim expression, he spoke in a low voice to Michael.


    "Sir Michael, I noticed during my previous visit that your training methods are quite intriguing. Could you take charge of training some of these men? Of course, our family and others will also train soldiers."


    After a moment of thought, Michael nodded.


    "I''ll gladly take on about 5,000 soldiers, focusing on my own men as the core," he replied.


    It wasn''t that Michael lacked the ability to handle more but rather that there weren''t enough trainers available. Even if he deployed all his personal guards as instructors, training more than 5,000 men simultaneously would be impossible.


    Count Charles seemed to understand this and looked pleased.


    "Then I leave it to you. His Majesty has decreed that the least prepared planets will form the vanguard. The order is absolute, so I have decided to send our least-trained troops to the front lines. I hope everyone gives their best effort," the count remarked.


    As Count Charles finished speaking, minor nobles who had aligned themselves with the Crassus family gathered around Michael. Meanwhile, other nobles also began clustering together. While more soldiers were always welcome on the battlefield, no one wanted allies who would become a burden. The collective responsibility inherent in their society ensured that everyone carried a resolute demeanor.


    Michael led his troops and the soldiers from the minor nobles to an open field. The soldiers, naturally grouping by origin, carried weapons crafted in the Crassus Barony. Any skilled blacksmith could tell that these weapons, wielded by Michael''s soldiers, were sharper and sturdier than most.

 Chapter 133 Preparations for Deployment

    The sharpness of their weapons wasn''t the only distinguishing feature. Michael''s soldiers had undergone two months of intense training, transforming them into capable warriors. Their morale was unmatched, and the Crassus family''s elite guards, in particular, exhibited exceptional individual combat prowess.


    As a commander, Michael''s thoughts were conflicted. The confrontation with the Pamir Empire''s forces was drawing near, and he knew his time was limited. Could he raise these unpolished recruits to the level of the Crassus soldiers? Would his efforts bear fruit, or would they perish on the battlefield?


    Closing his eyes briefly, Michael inhaled deeply. All he could do now was prepare them to the best of his ability. Who would survive and who would fall in the flames of war was beyond anyone''s prediction. Enjoy more content from My Virtual Library Empire


    A week passed. The soldiers, to Michael''s surprise, were far more enthusiastic about their training than he had anticipated. Their zeal wasn''t driven solely by the fear of war¡ªit was also fueled by the intimidating presence of the magical beasts, Miaomiao and Marcus, who revealed their true forms as they sat grooming their claws.


    Michael had implemented a system where underperforming soldiers were separated and trained under the watchful eyes of the beasts. The results were extraordinary. To avoid being singled out for this special training, the soldiers pushed themselves harder.


    The story of a soldier who broke his leg while fleeing in terror from Miaomiao''s piercing gaze spread like wildfire. This incident birthed rumors that "subpar soldiers would become beast fodder." When Michael''s attendants, Alex and Anthony, reported this to him, he deemed the fear an acceptable price for maintaining discipline.


    After completing basic military training, Michael addressed the troops to boost their morale. Thanks to an amplification artifact crafted by Leonardo, his voice resonated across the field.


    "You have all worked hard," Michael began. "Thank you for diligently following the basic training regimen. But this is only the beginning. Soon, you will return to your respective legions and enter the fires of war. Even on the march, do not forget what you have learned here¡ªkeep practicing.


    "Even if you are conscripted peasants, you should know how much you stand to gain from earning merit in battle. The greater the danger, the greater the rewards. Soldiers, I wish you all good fortune!"


    As Michael''s speech concluded, the soldiers erupted into cheers, their faces brimming with determination. Watching them, Michael felt a pang of doubt. How many of them would survive to achieve glory? Having seen the brutality of war firsthand, he knew morale alone could not guarantee victory.


    Shaking off his thoughts, he reminded himself that he couldn''t afford to worry about others'' soldiers. It was challenging enough to ensure the safety of his own.


    Albert, a former bandit, cultist, and prisoner, had been assigned to the penal battalion, destined for the most perilous fronts. He had been captured during the fanatic rebellion and later conscripted as a model prisoner for reclamation projects.


    With the sudden outbreak of war, Albert, along with other petty criminals, found himself conscripted into the penal battalion. Despite this turn of events, Albert considered his situation not as dire as he had expected. He was fed three meals a day, and no one beat him¡ªconditions far better than he had feared.


    Though he was anxious about where he might be deployed, he thought it might be better to earn merits and gain freedom than endure twenty years of hard labor. Of course, surviving to achieve such a goal was another matter entirely.


    To calm his nerves, Albert began doing jumping exercises, focusing on building his stamina. While he was at it, a pickpocket named Jean approached him. Jean, a slightly dim but kind-hearted individual, had chosen ten years of forced labor over losing his hands as punishment for his crimes.


    "Albert, why are you always doing those jumping exercises?" Jean asked curiously.


    "If I build my stamina, I might be able to swing my spear one more time. You should stop wasting your breath and start moving too," Albert replied.


    "Ugh, I''m already tired of the training. If I move any more, I''ll probably throw up the barley bread I just ate. Besides, if it gets dangerous, I''ll just run," Jean said with a grin.


    Albert jabbed his finger at Jean.


    "Idiot! Don''t even think about running. If you run and get caught, you''ll die for nothing. Do you even know what that mark on your forehead is?"


    Jean rubbed his forehead indifferently, referring to the magical mark that Michael had ordered to be inscribed on every penal soldier before deployment.


    "This? Eh, I''ll just burn it off with fire after I run," Jean replied nonchalantly.


    "You fool! That''s magic! If you don''t respond when the overseer calls your name, your head will explode right then and there," Albert snapped.


    Jean''s face turned pale.


    "No way... That Sir Michael, with his fine looks, would order something so horrific?"


    "Shh! Watch your mouth, you idiot. Do you want to get me killed too?" Albert hissed, pressing his hand over Jean''s mouth and glancing around nervously. His face was drenched in sweat.


    Albert still had nightmares about Michael, whose angelic face betrayed no emotion as he casually prepared torture tools. S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Jean spat out Albert''s hand.


    "Ugh, gross. What are you so scared of? I was just joking. Sir Michael''s one of the best nobles we could hope for. He feeds us, trains us, and even gives us good weapons. Do you know what it was like for penal soldiers before?"


    Jean''s voice dropped as he looked around conspiratorially, as if sharing a ghost story.


    "Penal soldiers like us used to be practice dummies for knights learning how to swing their swords. They said we were too troublesome to manage."


    Jean shuddered as he spoke but continued.


    "If the successor had taken over just a bit earlier, I wouldn''t have even thought about becoming a pickpocket. Do you know how much better life has gotten since he became the successor? Well, you wouldn''t know, coming from somewhere else."

 Chapter 134 Against The Odds

    Jean''s sudden shift in tone, as if brimming with pride, made Albert relax slightly.


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    "Well... Compared to other nobles who treat their peasants and serfs like animals, he''s definitely better," Albert admitted. He then resumed his jumping exercises and urged Jean to join him.


    "Start moving too! If you want to survive, you need stamina."


    Meanwhile, Michael, unaware of how Albert and others perceived him, was focused on gathering more soldiers. While having a large army wasn''t always advantageous, having too few soldiers was a guaranteed disadvantage. In battles fought with cold steel, the number of soldiers directly influenced survival.


    Fortunately, the noble families who had observed Michael''s military training spread word of his methods, drawing many to join him. Most knights, lacking resources, could only maintain small contingents of fewer than a hundred soldiers. With limited funds and knowledge, they couldn''t dream of systematic training.


    The promise of training and weapons for those who aligned with the Crassus family was irresistible, and many flocked to join. For Michael, there was no reason to refuse. Increasing the number of allied soldiers was crucial to preserving his direct forces.


    Michael''s training philosophy remained consistent: seize opportunities to gain merits and, if defeat seemed inevitable, retreat faster than anyone else. If all his soldiers adhered to this principle, the worst could be avoided.


    "Sir Michael, thank you again. Thanks to you, my soldiers won''t have to charge into battle unarmed," said Joseph, an elderly knight with a hearty laugh.


    "Not at all, Sir Joseph. It''s thanks to you and your soldiers joining our legion that my worries have lessened," Michael replied.


    Joseph, a former mercenary who had roamed countless battlefields before awakening his aura and becoming a knight in his later years, chuckled. Though he had spent his life fighting, his fortunes hadn''t turned out as he had hoped. After spending all his savings to acquire a small fief, he had struggled to arm his fifty conscripted peasants properly. Joining Michael''s forces had been a blessing, as it allowed his men to be equipped.


    For Michael, gaining a seasoned mercenary-turned-knight was also advantageous. Though some high-ranking nobles scoffed at his recruitment of aging knights, Michael thought otherwise.


    In a war-torn world, knights who had survived despite lacking wealth and support were true assets.


    As Michael exchanged pleasantries with Sir Joseph, his squire Alex ran toward him.


    "My lord! Count Charles is requesting your presence!"


    Michael nodded. It was time to march.


    Inside the Pamir Empire''s border fortress, Crown Prince Oswald issued a cold command to the concubines scattered across his chamber.


    "Leave, all of you."


    This had long been Oswald''s habit. No matter how much he favored a concubine, he never allowed anyone to stay by his side while he slept. Once the concubines had left, Oswald, who had been lounging indulgently moments before, sat upright. His previously drunken demeanor had vanished, leaving no trace of inebriation.


    From the shadows, a figure emerged¡ªa mage in a black robe.


    "My lord, please do not overexert yourself," the mage urged.


    Oswald waved a dismissive hand at the figure.


    "I''m fine. I can endure. After all, how many years have I spent maintaining this charade? It''s not something I can abandon now," Oswald replied with a bitter smile.


    After a brief pause, he continued, "As long as the old man is alive, I have no choice but to continue this act. Now, what news do you have?"


    The black-robed mage, Carlton, looked at his master with a gaze full of pity and concern.


    "There''s no visible movement yet. For now, it seems the plan is to amass energy through the war," Carlton reported softly.


    "Of course," Oswald said with a hollow laugh. "Starting a war on such a massive scale... It means I still have some value left."


    The laugh quickly faded, and tears began to stream down his face. For years, Oswald had played the role of a hedonistic prince, indulging in wine and women and living a life that appeared carefree and devoid of anguish.


    But deep in his heart, pain resided, a torment born from secrets he could never share. The burden of that secret had consumed him over time.


    If only he could go back to that day when he was fifteen, he thought bitterly. He would stop himself from opening his brother''s coffin. If he hadn''t been driven by curiosity, he could have lived a life of blissful ignorance, like his other siblings, striving for power without knowing the truth.


    But that one choice had changed his life forever.


    "Don''t give up, my lord. It''s too soon for that," Carlton said in a low voice.


    Oswald chuckled weakly and stared at the ceiling.


    "Ha... After the war, when the energy has been gathered, my turn will come next. I won''t give up¡ªI''ll survive, no matter what. But... I can''t deny that I feel lost."


    After discovering that his aging father was extending his life at the cost of his children and subjects, Oswald had deliberately lived a life of excess. He wanted to appear worthless in his father''s eyes, believing that this was the only way to spare his life.


    But now, with no other blood relatives left, he could no longer see a way out. To survive, Oswald resolved to betray his father, though the thought tore at him.


    Was it truly inevitable for a father and son to shed each other''s blood? He agonized over the path ahead, uncertain of what awaited him at its end.


    In the military council, Michael stood among the assembled nobles as Count Charles addressed the group. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, and the knights and nobles, seated silently, seemed to sense the gravity of the moment as they awaited the count''s words.


    "Now that everyone is here, let me get straight to the point," Count Charles began decisively.


    "As many of you have already guessed, the time has come to march."


    He continued with a firm tone, "The Pamir Empire is attacking both the northwestern planet and the Elonia Kingdom. Their forces number a staggering 500,000. In comparison, even when combining our forces with those of the northwestern planet and Elonia, we can only muster 200,000. But this level of disparity is not new to us. We must do our best." S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 135 Archer Units

    The council chamber was filled with a tense silence. Michael and Dominic''s expressions were somber as the count proceeded with his orders.


    "The Pamir Empire seems to be focusing its main offensive on the Elonia Kingdom, leaving the northwestern planet relatively intact. Therefore, we will march to aid the Elonia Kingdom. All nobles and knights from the northeastern planet will take selected soldiers to the front lines. This includes everyone present here, myself included," Count Charles declared.


    The faces of those gathered reflected their solemn determination, Michael and Dominic among them.


    The selected troops would march first to reinforce the Elonia Kingdom. Although it was unusual for the Pamir Empire to target Elonia initially, whenever they did, it always resulted in heavy casualties. The burden of responsibility was immense.


    After a brief pause, Count Charles continued, "The rations we purchased earlier will be distributed, but other supplies are critically lacking¡ªweapons, armor, hay, arrows, medical cloth, horses, oxen, and camping equipment. We will assign quotas to each territory. Transporting supplies will be handled by a dedicated logistics unit, ensuring an uninterrupted flow of food and fodder. This crucial task will be led by Court Count Woodlock and a team of selected knights."


    As Count Charles'' aides began distributing scrolls detailing the quotas to each noble, Michael opened his scroll and carefully reviewed its contents. After a moment of contemplation, he raised his hand to speak.


    "Your Excellency, while it''s feasible to mobilize soldiers, meeting the exact quotas for every category of supplies may prove difficult. If every territory must contribute evenly across all categories, few would be able to meet the demands. Wouldn''t it be more efficient for each territory to focus on the categories they excel in?" Michael suggested.


    The nobles in the chamber nodded in agreement, and after a brief consideration, Count Charles also concurred.


    "As long as the total quantity is met, that approach should suffice. Let us proceed that way. Any shortfalls will be purchased with the command''s budget, and penalties will be imposed on territories that fail to contribute," the count concluded.


    The tension in the room eased slightly, as this solution seemed reasonable. Each noble began discussing their contributions, with the Crassus territory naturally offering to supply grain, as they had an abundance of it thanks to recent plundering from the Radiant Star Kingdom.


    Count Charles added a final note, "If any merchant attempts to hoard supplies or exploit the situation for profit, they will be severely punished. Report such actions directly to the command."


    The nobles nodded gravely. In times like these, there was no room for leniency. Over the years, the Lania Kingdom had suffered greatly from the Pamir Empire''s invasions, but it had learned the importance of thorough war preparations through hard earned lessons. No noble had forgotten them.


    After the meeting, Michael and Dominic gathered their selected troops. They ensured the transport of pre-prepared rations and finalized the logistics for departure. Other nobles, too, quickly readied their supplies, allowing the mobilization to proceed smoothly.


    Among the selected soldiers were mounted knights equipped as medium cavalry. Their performance would significantly increase the survival rate of the infantry. Michael, in particular, held high expectations for the archers he had personally selected and trained.


    True to Michael''s nickname as the "Divine Archer," he had assembled a formidable archer unit. Fortunately, the Pamir Empire''s soldiers were not well equipped. Armed with the bows Michael had procured, his archers could easily penetrate the enemy''s inferior armor.


    The ranks also included penal soldiers and conscripted serfs who were former prisoners. Driven by a fierce desire to restore their status, these men were determined to prove themselves, and their contributions were expected to be significant.


    Knights and mages from the capital were scheduled to rendezvous with the main force at the border. For now, there was no need to parade them around for display.


    In the royal palace of the Lania Kingdom, King Charles V listened to reports arriving from various regions. Gradually, his expression relaxed. The recruitment of soldiers and the procurement of supplies were proceeding smoothly. The years of rigorous preparation had not been in vain. Stay connected through My Virtual Library Empire


    Moreover, the news that the Pamir Empire was focusing its attack on the Elonia Kingdom instead of the northwestern planet came as a relief. While the kingdom was an ally, it was undoubtedly preferable to support a war in another nation than to see one erupt within his own borders.


    A faint, sardonic smile crept onto King Charles'' lips. Though alliances were important, he was ultimately the ruler of a single nation, and his priority was always the interest of his own kingdom.


    As Charles reviewed the support allocations, a particular detail caught his attention.


    "Why does the northeastern planet''s budget include so much animal meat? And milk? Are the soldiers so desperate for luxury that they''ve gone mad?" Charles asked, his voice tinged with irritation. In times of war, even bare essentials were often insufficient, and yet this appeared extravagant.


    Chancellor Lant responded calmly.


    "Your Majesty, Count Charles sent a letter explaining this matter personally. Do you recall the knight named Michael, who was presented to the court last time? He owns a dragon and a sphinx. The meat and milk are intended for these creatures."


    For a moment, King Charles was at a loss for words. On the continent of Rubel, magical beasts were treated with greater reverence than humans. Especially prized were first class magical beasts, considered treasures.


    Two first class magical beasts were being deployed, and denying their upkeep was unthinkable. After a brief moment of contemplation, Charles came to a decision. Sear?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Two first class magical beasts are being deployed, so we cannot refuse to fund their maintenance. However, pass this burden on to the Elonia Kingdom."


    To lend credibility to his decision, Charles outlined his reasoning further.


    "Let them know that we are deploying these beasts specifically for their benefit. With both a dragon and a sphinx in their support, they should shoulder this cost without complaint."

 Chapter 136 The Pasha Kingdom Calculations

    With all the knights from the northeastern planet, 100,000 reinforcements, and two first-class magical beasts, Lania Kingdom''s commitment to its ally was evident. The cost of feeding the beasts seemed a reasonable price for Elonia to pay in return.


    Meanwhile, the Pasha Kingdom, another ally, found itself in a dilemma. As one of the three allied nations, it was obliged to respond to Elonia Kingdom''s request for assistance.


    The Lania Kingdom had already declared its commitment to send 100,000 troops. Being the only ally to abstain was not an option for the Pasha Kingdom.


    "Grand Duke Maximilian, how many troops should we send?" asked King Alphonse II in a youthful voice.


    The young king had never experienced war or overseen the mobilization of troops. Standing behind him was the Queen Dowager Regent, who exchanged a glance with her brother.


    "Alphonse, Grand Duke Maximilian is already overwhelmed with training the soldiers. Wouldn''t it be better to discuss this with your uncle instead?" the Queen Dowager suggested, her tone laced with authority. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The Grand Duke scowled at the Queen Dowager''s blatant overreach.


    "Do not worry, Your Grace. Though I am old, I still have enough vigor for this task. Our Pasha Kingdom must send at least 50,000 troops, Your Majesty," Maximilian stated firmly.


    Politically and militarily, it was imperative for the Pasha Kingdom to participate. Failing to do so would jeopardize the alliance and leave them vulnerable in the future.


    "I would prefer to send more troops, but our resources are limited. However, we must act swiftly to reinforce Elonia''s border forts," Maximilian added.


    "Grand Duke Maximilian, do not be so naive," interjected Chancellor Guiness, a political rival and maternal relative of the king.


    "The Lania Kingdom''s declaration of 100,000 troops is surely an exaggeration. At best, they''ll send a few tens of thousands of peasants. What we should be discussing is how to make this situation most advantageous for the Pasha Kingdom. There''s no need to fret over our allies."


    Maximilian bristled at the chancellor''s dismissive tone.


    "What nonsense! Such treachery will only make us the scapegoat later!"


    "Haha, that is mere speculation. Preserving our forces is not a path to ruin. For the Pamir Empire to reach us, they must first pass through Elonia. They are not fools; they will not risk unnecessary danger," Guiness argued with a smirk.


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    As the chancellor''s narrow perspective became more evident, the hot-blooded Grand Duke''s temper flared. His face flushed red as he shouted, his booming voice echoing through the chamber.


    Startled by the commotion, the young King Alphonse clutched at his mother''s skirt in fear.


    "Enough! You''re scaring Alphonse," the Queen Dowager snapped. "Grand Duke Maximilian, are you threatening a widow and a child? Return to your estate and reflect on your actions. As Regent, I decree that Chancellor Guiness will handle this matter."


    Defeated, Maximilian sighed deeply and left the hall. His heart was heavy with worry.


    "What will become of this kingdom?" he muttered to himself as he departed.


    King Henry III of the Elonia Kingdom heaved a sigh of relief upon hearing of Lania Kingdom''s support. The 100,000 soldiers, along with two first-class magical beasts and their accompanying knights and mages, would provide significant aid. Above all, it reassured him that Lania Kingdom was fulfilling its responsibilities as an ally.


    But his relief was short-lived. Chancellor Mark handed him a letter that filled him with fury.


    "Damn it! What is Pasha Kingdom thinking?" Henry III exclaimed.


    The letter stated that Pasha Kingdom''s reinforcements would gather at Renac Fortress to form a defensive line. Renac Fortress? If the Pamir Empire''s army reached Renac, the Duchy of Elonia would already have fallen beyond recovery.


    It was a purely symbolic gesture, devoid of any real value.


    "It seems Pasha Kingdom is trying to back out," Chancellor Mark said cautiously.


    "Of course. It must be that witless Queen Dowager Regent''s doing," Henry III muttered, letting out a deep sigh as he rested his head in his hands. His face was etched with frustration.


    Michael soared into the sky on Marcus, his gaze scanning the long procession of troops marching silently with backpacks on their shoulders.


    The backpacks were Michael''s idea, suggested as essential military supplies, and they had proven to be of great help to the soldiers. The Crassus family, which had produced these backpacks, had reaped significant profits as well. By standardizing the contents of the backpacks, Michael had maximized efficiency, a strategy that had been successful.


    Leading the army as a cohesive unit was crucial. Like many other nobles, Michael had little faith in Elonia Kingdom''s logistical capabilities. Ensuring survival required every measure at his disposal.


    Watching his disciplined troops march in formation filled him with pride. The training and preparations had not been in vain.


    The sight of Michael''s soldiers stunned other nobles. Their orderly conduct and high morale were remarkable. While other noble armies had some elite soldiers, few, if any, could match Michael''s army, where every soldier seemed like an elite.


    Each soldier was well-fed, physically robust, and instilled with discipline forged through rigorous training and drills conducted under the watchful eyes of magical beasts. Their improved physical condition was evident.


    "Sir Michael, your soldiers make mine feel like a rabble. How on earth did you manage this?" one baron asked in awe.


    Another noble chimed in.


    "If your training methods could be applied to all our soldiers, it would be extraordinary. Could you share your methods?"


    Michael responded with a polite smile.


    "Haha, for now, let''s focus on the war. We can discuss this in detail afterward."


    The nobles had not asked out of genuine curiosity but rather to curry favor with Michael. It was clear to them that if Michael survived this war, he was destined for great success. Building a relationship with him now was a calculated move.


    Michael, perceiving their intentions, showed no sign of awareness. His focus remained solely on the war.


    Although the Lania Kingdom''s reinforcements advanced with vigor, the sheer size of the force slowed their progress. Amid this, urgent news arrived: the Elonia Kingdom''s Dolce defensive line was on the verge of collapse.

 Chapter 137 The Arrogant Crown Prince

    A royal envoy from Elonia, sent as a special emissary, stood before the assembled nobles and soldiers.


    "The situation is dire," he announced. "The Pamir Empire''s advance is faster than anticipated, and the defensive line is close to being breached. Look at Sir Michael''s forces¡ªso disciplined and exemplary! Follow his example, maintain your formations, and quicken your march!"


    The envoy praised Michael''s army''s orderliness and urged the others to emulate them, pushing for faster movement.


    Even though Michael tried to avoid drawing attention, the excellence of his forces inevitably stood out. Envy and resentment radiated from all sides, but Michael ignored the stares and focused on his responsibilities.


    The reinforcements included soldiers from five different planets, including the northeastern planet, resulting in a chaotic mix. Coordinating such a diverse force inevitably led to confusion.


    Although Duke Capone had been dispatched as the commander by the royal court, his efforts to unite the nobles from various regions faced significant challenges. Recognizing the issues, the royal envoy reported them to King Charles V.


    In the palace, King Charles V furrowed his brows as he read the report. The message highlighted how chaotic the reinforcements were, except for the 5,000 soldiers under Michael''s command.


    Chancellor Lant offered his assessment with measured words.


    "Your Majesty, it was always going to be challenging to mobilize such a large force and march them together. Duke Capone lacks the reputation needed to unite nobles from various territories. Perhaps it''s time to consider replacing the commander."


    As the kingdom''s chancellor, Lant had identified the root of the problem. The more diverse the army''s composition, the higher the demands on its commander. While a duke theoretically had enough authority to lead a coalition, Duke Capone''s courtly background left him with little practical influence.


    Out of respect for the king, the nobles treated Duke Capone with courtesy, but courtesy alone could not ensure effective leadership.


    "But sending another commander would be difficult given the domestic situation," the king replied. "With the Pamir Empire''s movements unpredictable, our key generals cannot leave their posts."


    Chancellor Lant offered a subtle suggestion.


    "The commander need not necessarily be a military figure, Your Majesty."


    King Charles V paused, deep in thought. He had already been considering this possibility.


    "Are you suggesting the crown prince?"


    On the continent of Rubel, it was not uncommon for kings or crown princes to personally lead armies.


    It was a common tradition on the continent for a crown prince to take on a nominal role as commander by personally going to the battlefield. The more King Charles V considered it, the more sense it made.


    "Yes, this could be a good opportunity for him to gain experience. Since it''s the path of reinforcements, we''ll ensure he stays in the safest areas¡ªnothing should go wrong," the king decided.


    With the sudden announcement that the crown prince himself would join the battlefield, Count Charles convened all the nobles of the northeastern planet. When Michael first heard the news, he was dumbfounded. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The crown prince on a dangerous battlefield? Wouldn''t it be better to send a different commander if Duke Capone was inadequate? But soon, Michael realized the strategic reasoning.


    No commander would dare place the crown prince in real danger. The prince''s presence would be more symbolic than practical, and there was little risk involved as long as he didn''t directly enter combat. Strategically, an expedition to a foreign land was preferable to remaining in the domestic sphere.


    If the expedition succeeded, the crown prince would take the credit; if it failed, Elonia Kingdom would bear the blame for its incompetence.


    The news of the crown prince''s arrival on the front line excited many, but Michael remained indifferent, focusing instead on maintaining military discipline.


    Michael saw no reason to curry favor with the crown prince unless he planned to enter the royal court, which he did not. He already had a connection with Princess Astrid, and maintaining that relationship was more about building his reputation than seeking real power. Besides, Astrid had a personality he found agreeable, while the crown prince did not.


    Michael''s first impression of the prince had been one of excessive arrogance, a trait undesirable in a leader or a future king.


    Thanks to Michael''s efforts, his 5,000 soldiers were even more disciplined than before. Marching in perfect formation, their unified steps drew everyone''s attention. Though they had not yet entered the battlefield, Michael''s reputation was spreading throughout the army.


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    The royal envoy''s public praise of Michael further amplified his fame. As the owner of both a dragon and a sphinx, a master archer, and a skilled commander, Michael''s renown was inevitable.


    While overseeing his soldiers'' march, Michael spotted a group of magical beasts flying toward them. As he looked up, his gaze lingered briefly on the young man dressed in elaborate attire, riding a third-class magical beast¡ªa pegasus. It was the crown prince, Randolph.


    Excitement lit up Randolph''s face as he called out, "Sir Michael, your army is as disciplined as the rumors say. This expedition is going to be quite exciting!"


    Beside him, General Leonard, his advisor and bodyguard, cleared his throat.


    "Your Highness, you must not let your excitement cloud your judgment. The fact that Sir Michael''s army stands out so much only underscores the poor condition of the other forces. Do not underestimate this campaign," the general cautioned.


    Randolph scoffed.


    "Hmph! I know that. Don''t be so rigid," he replied dismissively.


    Nearby, Duke Capone, riding a gryphon, appeared deeply troubled. Not only had he been sidelined from command, but now he also had to manage the whims of the reckless crown prince. Young nobles often overestimated their abilities, and this tendency was even stronger in those of high status.


    Sighing, the duke thought about the prince''s arrogance. He only hoped the prince wouldn''t overestimate the capabilities of the expeditionary forces based on Michael''s exceptional army and attempt something beyond their means.


    "Ha! Let''s hurry down¡ªI want another look at Sir Michael''s dragon and sphinx," Randolph declared, urging his pegasus to descend before anyone could stop him.

 Chapter 138 The Greenhouse Prince

    The naturally gentle pegasus obeyed its master''s command, gliding down toward the ground. General Leonard and Duke Capone reluctantly followed. Discover exclusive content at My Virtual Library Empire


    As Randolph landed, his escort knights waved banners to announce his arrival. Nobles, led by Count Charles, quickly gathered around the prince, bowing respectfully.


    "Greetings to the kingdom''s young sun. General Leonard, Duke Capone, welcome. You must be weary from your journey. Shall we arrange for you to ride in the carriage?"


    The sudden appearance of such high-ranking figures stirred excitement among the troops. While the soldiers celebrated, Michael remained unenthused. The crown prince''s presence was not something he welcomed.


    Unlike the other nobles, Michael stood quietly at the rear, avoiding the commotion. But Randolph soon singled him out.


    "Sir Michael! There you are. Come over here," the prince called out.


    Michael frowned briefly before smoothing his expression. There was no need to display hostility.


    As Randolph enthusiastically shared his views on military strategy, Michael listened without expressing any opinions. It wasn''t that he lacked thoughts on the matter, but speaking candidly on such sensitive topics was dangerous.


    While the prince had the liberty to discuss any subject, Michael could not afford the same freedom. His restraint was not due to timidity but a calculated decision. Michael respected King Charles V not because of his title but because of his exceptional leadership and merit as a ruler. The crown prince, however, had yet to demonstrate such worth.


    Randolph, noticing Michael''s lack of response, frowned.


    "Sir Michael, you''ve been rather quiet. Do you find my ideas unworthy of a reply?" he asked, irritation evident in his tone.


    Before Michael could answer, Duke Capone intervened.


    "Your Highness, such words are uncalled for. Sir Michael is merely a corps commander. He refrains from commenting out of respect for your authority, not out of disdain. Please forgive any perceived slight."


    Randolph''s scowl softened, and he laughed heartily. Clapping Michael on the shoulder, he declared,


    "Ha! So that''s how it is. It would be a shame for someone as talented as you to lack the position you deserve. I value ability above all else. As supreme commander of the expeditionary forces, I hereby appoint Sir Michael von Crassus as the First Corps Commander and bestow upon him the rank of baron!"


    The sudden announcement left everyone stunned.


    As supreme commander, the crown prince had the authority to make such appointments, but doing so without prior consultation was unprecedented.


    While Michael''s qualifications were undeniable¡ªbeing the owner of a dragon and a sphinx, an exceptional archer, and a brilliant tactician¡ªthe promotion seemed abrupt.


    Amused by the unexpected turn of events, Michael thought to himself,


    "Even arrogant and impulsive superiors can occasionally be useful."


    The sudden elevation of Michael''s status startled the nobles, prompting murmurs and sidelong glances. Their envious stares brushed past him, but Michael remained impassive, offering gratitude to the crown prince who had granted him the title. In such a situation, excessive flattery or overt displays of joy could easily invite trouble.


    The crown prince appeared oblivious to the nobles'' discontent. To him, the soldiers under Michael''s command seemed to be the only true army, while the rest were nothing more than a disorganized rabble.


    In truth, the other noble-led armies weren''t intentionally lax in discipline or deliberately slowing their march. On the contrary, their pace was relatively quick¡ªcovering approximately 20 kilometers a day despite being hastily assembled infantry units. However, in comparison to Michael''s forces, their efforts seemed insignificant.


    "It''s merely a reward for a knight who set an example during these trying times. What is there to complain about?" the crown prince asked, his brow furrowed as he glanced around. Sensing his dissatisfaction, the nobles quickly quieted down.


    "All the nobles need to do is fulfill their duties as faithfully as Sir Michael," he added. His simplistic perspective only made the atmosphere more uncomfortable.


    Perhaps it was because he had been raised in the comfort of a greenhouse-like environment, but his political instincts were woefully lacking. It was hard to believe he was the son of Charles V, who was famed for his cunning political acumen. Was it because he was the only prince and had been excessively coddled? Or was his eagerness to step out of his father''s shadow leading to repeated blunders?


    The nobles responded with silence, their gazes growing colder.


    Unable to bear the crown prince''s continued missteps, Duke Capone intervened. "Your Highness, it seems we will soon reach the border of the Kingdom of Elonia. How should we prepare for the inspection?" Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The crown prince, who had been venting his frustrations, finally collected himself. "There''s no need for a formal inspection. After all, not all the troops have gathered yet. The gravity of the situation should ensure the Kingdom of Elonia understands."


    Although his tone was calmer, an undercurrent of arrogance still lingered. Duke Capone noted that the crown prince still failed to fully grasp the situation. However, as a seasoned politician, he concealed his thoughts and carefully continued, "A wise decision, Your Highness. It would be best to rest briefly at the border fortress and finalize how we''ll engage after all reinforcements arrive. If Your Highness personally explains the circumstances, it will prevent any unnecessary misunderstandings with the Kingdom of Elonia."


    Michael silently admired Duke Capone''s tact. Initially, he had questioned why such an inept prince was given any autonomy, but it became clear that the duke''s presence was a key reason. Above all, Michael doubted Charles V truly understood how disastrously incompetent his son was. After all, even a hedgehog finds its offspring endearing.


    Meanwhile, in the Kingdom of Elonia, the atmosphere inside the palace''s conference room was tense as the sun set. Urgent reports from the frontline arrived one after another, and the heavy air pressed down on everyone present.


    News came that two of the five main tribes of the Pamir Empire, considered its primary force, had begun their invasion.


    "When will reinforcements from the Kingdom of Lania arrive?" King Henry III asked in a voice heavy with fatigue.


    Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, and his shoulders drooped as if burdened by the weight of the world. Today, more than ever, the throne felt unbearably uncomfortable. The fate of the Kingdom of Elonia teetered on the edge of collapse.

 Chapter 139 The Desperate Situation Of Elonia

    All able-bodied men capable of wielding weapons had already been sent to the front lines, leaving only the bare minimum to guard the capital. Despite these efforts, they had barely managed to hold back the enemy''s vanguard. The growing pressure was steadily pushing the front line to its breaking point.


    "Your Majesty, nearly 30,000 troops from the Kingdom of Lania''s reinforcements have already arrived at the border. Additional forces are en route, and the full force of 100,000 soldiers is expected to assemble within three or four days. Please do not be overly concerned. They are doing their utmost," Chancellor Mark explained, his expression troubled.


    Privately, Mark seethed at Lania''s calculated moves. If they intended to send reinforcements, why not deploy their elite border troops instead of conscripting private armies from noble families in the rear?


    Reports indicated that only the first corps could be considered elite among the reinforcements, while the rest were poorly trained and advancing sluggishly. Though he refrained from voicing these thoughts to avoid demoralizing the court, his dissatisfaction with Lania''s actions was evident.


    Further exacerbating his frustration was the news that Lania had been expanding its border fortresses. It was clear they were preparing for Elonia''s potential fall. sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Even so, compared to the Kingdom of Pasha, which hasn''t sent any reinforcements, Lania could be considered cooperative," King Henry III murmured, trailing off into thought. He could not simply stand by as war threatened to consume his nation.


    Resolute, Henry III adopted a colder demeanor. "Send an envoy to the border to inform Lania''s nobles: any who achieve significant merits in defending our border will be granted wealth, titles, and land¡ªregardless of nationality."


    Noble troops, being pragmatic by nature, would undoubtedly strive to minimize their losses. However, as reinforcements fighting on foreign soil, they would need concrete incentives to risk their lives.


    Even if it meant giving up half the kingdom, it would be preferable to complete ruin. After all, as the war progressed, more unclaimed land would inevitably emerge along the border.


    The king''s decree sparked a commotion in the conference room. As the murmurs grew louder, Henry III slammed his hand on the table, silencing the room.


    "Enough!" he commanded.


    All eyes turned toward the king. "No matter what is said, this decision will not be overturned. Only Chancellor Mark will remain; the rest of you may leave!"


    Faced with the king''s firm tone, the nobles had no choice but to withdraw quietly.


    Once the room emptied, leaving only Chancellor Mark and King Henry III, the king let out a weary sigh, shedding his royal composure.


    "There truly is no other way," he lamented, despair and resignation filling his gaze.


    "Sending their crown prince as commander shows that Lania has no real intention of committing to this war. If they were serious, they wouldn''t send their prince into such a perilous situation. They''re hedging their bets¡ªhoping for gains if he succeeds, but ready to accept the loss if he doesn''t."


    Chancellor Mark lowered his head, unable to refute the painful truth. As both the king''s chancellor and brother-in-law, he was left speechless.


    Breaking the silence, Henry III abruptly suggested, "What if we sent Elise and Charlotte to the border fortress? Not just because they''re my daughters, but because I believe they could capture the crown prince''s interest. Try convincing the queen. She won''t listen to me."


    Mark felt his breath catch at the unexpected proposal.


    The faces of his young nieces, only fifteen and seventeen years old, suddenly flashed through Chancellor Mark''s mind.


    That cannot be allowed!


    He lifted his head, his lips trembling as he saw tears streaming down the king''s face. The weight on his chest left him speechless. The realization that the situation had become so desperate that even the princesses might be used in such a scheme filled him with deep sorrow.


    Finally, he bowed his head in submission. "I will¡­ do my utmost to persuade the queen, Your Majesty."


    Within the Papal States, a heavy silence and palpable tension filled the air. High-ranking clergy in the Pope''s office sat rigidly, exchanging uneasy glances. The magical candle on the long meeting table cast eerie shadows across their faces.


    Rumors had spread across the continent like wildfire following the dismissal of an archbishop for meddling in the imperial succession of the Celeste Empire. Worse yet, revelations about their involvement in the Pamir Empire''s activities had emerged.


    Whispers claimed that the Pamir Empire''s recent invasion had been instigated by the Holy State. Even more damning, some rumors suggested that the original target of the Holy State''s manipulation was the Kingdom of Lania, but due to unpaid compensation, the Kingdom of Elonia had become the unintended victim instead.


    The problem was that these rumors were true.


    In response, the Celeste Empire severed all diplomatic relations with the Holy State and declared it would expel the Radiance Church entirely. The Kingdom of Lania, seemingly waiting for such an opportunity, issued a strong condemnation. Although the Kingdom of Elonia, overwhelmed by its immediate crisis, refrained from issuing an official statement, it revealed its displeasure by confiscating church-owned assets.


    In some foreign Radiance Church temples, high-ranking clergy of the Holy State were even denounced as heretics and publicly decried. The humiliation was unparalleled.


    "What is the meaning of all this?" Discover stories with My Virtual Library Empire


    The Pope''s reprimand echoed through the office, causing the leader of the Knights of Xenos to shrink back.


    "Your Holiness, twenty ships laden with grain left the port, but none reached their destination," the knight stammered.


    "Does that even make sense? If a storm had sunk them, other ships from other nations would have been affected too! Are you telling me that only our ships¡ªspecifically those carrying grain¡ªwere lost?"


    The knight tried to offer another explanation. "Perhaps¡­ the Kingdom of Lania or the Celeste Empire noticed our actions and sent a mage to intervene¡­"


    The Pope, Allegro III, erupted in fury. "What nonsense! Do you think they have mages who could track ships in the vast open sea and cast spells on them? Do you not understand that high-ranking mages have been almost extinct since the heretic purges over millennia ago?"

 Chapter 140 Sigmund

    At that moment, Cardinal Pablo, a lifelong rival of the Knight Commander, spoke up. "It''s clear there''s a spy within the Holy Knights. How else could this happen?"


    The knight slammed his fist on the table and snarled, "Silence! Are you accusing our knights of treachery?"


    Pablo smirked. "If not, how do you explain this? Someone must have uncovered our plans and stolen only the grain meant for the Pamir Empire, leaving no trace behind. What''s next¡ªghost ships crewed by phantom pirates?"


    Unknowingly, Pablo''s sarcastic remark came closer to the truth than anyone realized. In reality, Zark, acting on Michael''s orders, had orchestrated the scheme, though no one in the room was aware of it.


    Pablo continued his mocking tone. "And now rumors are spreading as though someone deliberately wanted them to. Rumors that reveal our plans in excruciating detail. This reeks of Holy Knight involvement. How will you explain that?"


    Though Pablo''s accusations hit uncomfortably close to home, the truth remained elusive to all.


    The Knight Commander bristled. "Our knights are all sons of noble families. None of them would ever stoop to such actions¡­"


    Pablo scoffed. "Oh? Are you saying every one of them is above reproach? Even after all the purges and expulsions, I doubt that''s true."


    As the argument escalated, Allegro III could bear no more. "Enough! Be silent, all of you!"


    His shout echoed through the room. "This is not the time to argue over how things came to this. We must focus on how to resolve it!"


    Although his words blatantly favored the Holy Knights, none dared challenge him. It was an open secret that the Holy Knights served as the Pope''s enforcers, cleaning up his messes.


    Another cardinal cautiously spoke up. "Your Holiness, in a situation like this, perhaps silence is the best course. After all, time will pass, and this too shall fade. Has the Holy State not weathered worse storms in its illustrious history?"


    The others nodded in agreement, as did the Pope.


    This was a fitting strategy for a group that had committed countless schemes and faced no accountability. At this level of entanglement, brazen disregard was often the most effective approach.


    "Very well. We''ll let this pass. What can they possibly do to us?"


    The Pope concluded the meeting.


    Much later, Allegro III would regret this decision deeply. But for now, he remained oblivious to the storm yet to come.


    The Celeste Empire''s capital radiated magnificence befitting its reputation as the second-greatest empire on the continent. The imperial palace, constructed from gleaming white marble, shone brilliantly under the sun.


    In the throne room, the young emperor Sigmund, who had recently ascended to the throne following his coronation, burst into laughter. His laughter was filled with mockery.


    "Haha! The look on that old Pope''s face must be priceless."


    Lelius, the son of a grand duke and a companion to the emperor, smirked in response. "Indeed, Your Majesty. It is the price for daring to challenge the divine authority bestowed upon you by the heavens."


    The emperor tilted his goblet and took a sip, his smile lingering. "Cut the formal talk, Lelius. You know how much I despise that." S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Sigmund''s gaze fixed on Lelius. Though his lips smiled, his eyes were cold and calculating.


    "Still, Your Majesty, one must maintain the dignity of one''s station," Lelius replied cautiously. Discover more stories at My Virtual Library Empire


    "Sigh¡­ Fine. I suppose there''s no helping it," Sigmund said, his expression softening just enough to let Lelius breathe a sigh of relief internally. If he had taken the emperor''s words at face value and acted too familiarly, his current status might have been forfeit.


    "Well, the Holy State wouldn''t have provoked us with their military expansions and such if they hadn''t overreached. But now that we''ve started, we must see it through to the end," Sigmund mused, idly tracing the rim of his goblet with a finger.


    The Holy State''s interference in the Celeste Empire''s succession was not a new issue, but this time Sigmund was determined to address it decisively. Their military expansions, meant to sustain their growing forces, had destabilized the continent and revived memories of the era when the Holy State dominated. This tension had finally prompted the empire to publicly denounce them.


    "So, what do you think we should do now? Elonia and Lania have requested reinforcements. We''ll have to make a show of goodwill, won''t we?" Sigmund asked.


    "Lip and teeth depend on each other," Lelius replied.


    Without the defensive buffer of the countries bordering the Pamir Empire, the savage tribes would inevitably push into the continent''s central regions.


    "Ah, what a nuisance. The five main tribes, in particular, are such a headache. Did you know they carry the blood of the ancient beastfolk?" Sigmund''s sudden statement startled Lelius.


    "Pardon? The ancient beastfolk?"


    "Yes, the ones said to have been created through unions with dark gods. The five main tribes are descended from them. That''s why they''re so aggressive and possess certain abilities. Especially their royal lineage. They say the tribes'' warriors channel spirits into their bodies during battle. Hah, spirits? It''s just their beastfolk blood manifesting. One of the reasons we fight so hard to keep the Pamir Empire out of the continent is because of this. It''s a secret known only to our family and the heads of other royal families," Sigmund said nonchalantly.


    Hearing this revelation so casually shared, Lelius felt a chill run down his spine.


    Why is he bringing this up now?


    "Lelius, my idiot father might have been good for nothing, but he sure had a talent for fathering children. Even though I''ve killed all my brothers except for the one who fled, I have no desire to kill the daughters who hold no claim to the throne. That''s left me with quite a lot of sisters. Arranging marriages for them all is giving me a headache. Since they don''t share the same mother as me, I don''t want to risk sending them to other royal families. So, why don''t we become a real family ourselves?"


    Sigmund''s golden eyes glinted with madness as he looked at Lelius.


    This was the unique lunacy of the Celeste Imperial Family, who had once intermarried siblings under the pretext of preserving territory and reducing dowries. Though such practices were no longer in place, their bloodthirsty, feral tendencies persisted.


    But I have a fianc¨¦e¡­! Lelius swallowed the words rising in his throat and nodded instead.

 Chapter 141 The First Battle

    He revealed the royal family''s secret first to pressure me. What a terrifying man.


    "I am honored, Your Majesty," Lelius said, bowing and kneeling on one knee.


    Sigmund regarded the back of Lelius''s head coldly. She''s just a commoner''s daughter with no claim to the throne anyway. A capable subordinate like him is worth keeping close¡ªand under surveillance.


    "Oh, by the way, how goes the search for my beloved brother?"


    Lelius swallowed hard and broke into a cold sweat. "It is proceeding well, Your Majesty. We''ve uncovered a critical lead and are tracking him as we speak. I will ensure he is brought to you as soon as possible."


    Sigmund''s lips curled into a sinister smile. "Good. Bring him to me quickly, so I can tear him apart with my own hands."


    In a dark room with drawn curtains, Charles V stared intently at an ornate mirror hanging on the wall. The surface of the mirror rippled like water.


    This artifact, known as the "Mirror of Communion," was a priceless relic passed down among the leaders of the eight major nations of the continent.


    Charles V traced the edge of the mirror with a heavy hand. It was only used during moments of extreme upheaval, such as the Pamir Empire''s invasion. The activation of the mirror required the recitation of an ancient incantation, which exacted a toll on the life force of all participants.


    Although the drained vitality would gradually replenish, the resulting fatigue and emptiness were not easily endured. There was even the lingering fear that it might reduce one''s lifespan. Thus, the mirror could only be used with the unanimous agreement of all eight leaders.


    At the repeated urging of Henry III of Elonia, the leaders had finally agreed to convene. As their vitality was offered to the mirror, the images of the leaders began to materialize.


    Their forms appeared distorted as though reflected on water, their expressions obscured. Gradually, as all were seated, the vision cleared.


    Henry III was the first to speak. "Thank you for responding to this call. The situation has become dire. The Pamir Empire has crossed our borders and begun pillaging. We can no longer hold them back. If we continue to stand by, the entire continent will be engulfed in war." Enjoy more content from My Virtual Library Empire


    Charles V, having already sent reinforcements, watched the others with a calm demeanor. His eyes caught the regent of the Pasha Kingdom clasping her hands as if grappling with guilt. In the young king''s stead, she stammered out a response.


    "Our¡­ our kingdom has already mobilized to the Lenac Fortress. We are holding our ground there to prevent further incursions. We have no resources left to spare."


    Sigmund, seated arrogantly, spoke next. "The northern three nations formed an alliance to support one another, did they not? If I recall, during the last war, the Kingdom of Lania alone managed to hold out for over a year. Why are we hearing such complaints so soon this time?"


    Henry III gritted his teeth but forced himself to remain composed. He couldn''t let the provocation get to him.


    As for the Pasha Kingdom¡­ The betrayal left a bitter taste in his mouth, but there was no choice. They would have to settle the score for breaking the alliance once the war was over.


    "We have made grave mistakes. Our preparations for war were inadequate, and the most critical defensive line, the Dolce Fortress, fell far too easily. I humbly petition for the assembly of allied forces," Henry III pleaded.


    Sigmund''s gaze shifted to Allegro III. "Pope, have you nothing to say about this situation? Strange rumors are spreading across the continent."


    Allegro III feigned ignorance, his practiced indifference honed over fifty years. Even Henry III''s piercing glare, which seemed to scream a desire to strangle him on the spot, failed to faze him.


    "Ahem. The Holy State has already prepared reinforcements," Allegro III finally declared, though the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.


    Originally, he had planned to send reinforcements triumphantly, casting the Holy State as the savior of the continent. But now, it felt like a concession born of guilt, an offering given under duress. Even his unparalleled audacity couldn''t transform the current circumstances into a moment of glory.


    "Well, the more people, the better. Even if they''re knights who haven''t seen proper combat in decades," Charles V remarked sarcastically, causing the Pope''s blood pressure to spike.


    Yet the comment held truth. Despite numerous wars over the years, the Holy State had rarely, if ever, dispatched reinforcements.


    "This time, the Holy Knights will display their full might. We will deploy 1,000 of our elite knights, 50,000 infantry, and 50 hippogriff riders," Allegro III announced.


    Henry III nodded with satisfaction. While rumors painted the Holy State as the root of all the current turmoil, their willingness to take responsibility was reassuring. Even if this gesture was a means to assert their dominance and pressure other nations, it hardly mattered now.


    Romano II of the Kingdom of Therma spoke up. The longer the meeting dragged on, the greater the toll it took. From his position in the central continent, where his kingdom often watched conflicts from the sidelines, he was eager to conclude the discussions swiftly.


    "Deployments are inevitable, aren''t they? Let''s quickly confirm troop commitments and decide which front to prioritize. The Kingdom of Therma will send 2,000 cavalry, 20 wyvern riders, and 30,000 infantry. However, given the distance, it will take some time for the full force to arrive. The cavalry and wyvern riders will reach their destinations first. From my perspective, the Kingdom of Elonia appears to be in the most urgent need. What say you?"


    Charles V nodded heavily. The primary front was already forming along Elonia''s border. Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "I agree. However, once the Kingdom of Elonia is stabilized, we will need your support in our territories as well."


    "Agreed. But keep in mind, we cannot provide additional reinforcements should our forces dwindle. The Kingdom of Therma is not a military-focused nation," Romano replied, his proposal reasonable.


    Everyone nodded in agreement.


    The Kingdom of Astoria, which had a similar level of power as Therma, pledged an equivalent force but offered three Class-3 magical beasts in place of wyvern riders.

 Chapter 142 The Terror Of The Dragon

    The Brabant Kingdom, being closer to the north, committed slightly larger numbers: 3,000 cavalry, 50,000 infantry, and 100 reptar riders. These troops would all be sent to the Kingdom of Elonia.


    Among those gathered, Sigmund, representing the most powerful Celeste Empire, observed with a sardonic smile. As all eyes turned toward him, the young emperor brought his hand down loudly on the central round table.


    "Our Celeste Empire," he began, "plans to establish a new Papal Office. The god we will serve is¡­ the Sun."


    It was a clear provocation. The Sun and Radiance were essentially synonymous!


    By invoking a different name for the same deity, the flow of power and faith toward Radiance would weaken. The Pope exploded with fury.


    "What madness is this? The Holy See of Radiance already exists! How dare you?!"


    "The god you serve is Radiance. The god we serve is the Sun. Where is the problem?" Sigmund replied smoothly.


    The room fell silent as the other monarchs watched Sigmund and Allegro III with wide-eyed astonishment. It was a display of audacity befitting the second-greatest empire on the continent¡ªpractically a slap in the face.


    "If you dislike it, return my brother, who fled to your lands. Then we can reconsider," Sigmund added.


    Allegro III trembled with rage, his body shaking uncontrollably.


    "You lunatic! You''ve lost your mind! Why would your brother be with us¡­?"


    Sigmund''s eyes, gleaming with madness, bore into the Pope. Experience exclusive tales on My Virtual Library Empire


    "You know better than anyone, don''t you? You have one week. Return him alive¡ªor else. Mark my words¡ªhe must be alive. Understood?"


    Sigmund cast one last glance at the Pope''s red, furious face before smiling brightly. Turning to Henry III, he said, "Apologies, Henry, for the delay. Of course, we''ll send reinforcements: 5,000 cavalry, 50,000 infantry, and 50 griffon riders. And now, if you''ll excuse me."


    Before the Pope could rise in protest, Sigmund vanished from the room.


    One by one, the other monarchs coughed awkwardly and disappeared from the meeting, leaving a trembling, enraged Pope and a bewildered Henry III to guard the shadowed world reflected in the mirror.


    Michael crossed the border and was welcomed by the Elonian army. The crown prince had already been escorted to the command tent with special treatment.


    Around the fortress, tattered flags fluttered in the wind¡ªa symbol of Elonia''s dire circumstances.


    The courtyard of the temporary base was filled with wounded soldiers. Healers and medics who had arrived with the reinforcements moved quickly, prioritizing the severely injured while leaving minor injuries to field medics.


    The state of the base made it clear that there was no time for ceremonial inspections.


    As Michael mounted his dragon, Marcus, to assess the situation, the fortress''s alarm bells began to ring frantically.


    Beyond the fragile walls, the Pamir Empire''s forces were advancing with battering rams.


    Three in total, these siege engines, while crudely built, were still formidable. The Pamir Empire, lacking magicians among their ranks, relied heavily on such devices. Flying serpents circled the rams, providing aerial protection.


    Without hesitation, Michael soared into the sky on Marcus.


    "Marcus, breathe fire on those battering rams! the kitten, eliminate any ground forces that might be armed with anti-dragon ballistae. Garrett, cover the airspace! We must seize control of the skies."


    Gargoyles, previously concealed as small stone figurines in a box strapped to Marcus''s saddle, awoke. Their stone bodies stretched, and they let out a long wail before taking flight to shield Marcus like arrows in the air.


    Thus began the first battle of this war.


    Marcus''s massive wings beat with a thunderous roar, their shadow eclipsing the battlefield as the setting sun illuminated his silhouette. Flames erupted from his jaws, cutting through the air like a living entity and engulfing a battering ram in their fiery embrace.


    The siege engine groaned under the intense heat, its iron plates glowing red-hot and its wooden beams consumed by flames. Black smoke billowed into the sky as the structure began to collapse. With the support beams failing, the heavy chains and mechanisms fell one by one, shaking the earth with each impact.


    Pamir Empire soldiers stationed atop the battering ram screamed as the flames consumed them. Meanwhile, snake-like beasts circling nearby attempted to extinguish the fire with jets of water, but their efforts were futile. Compared to Marcus''s inferno, the water streams were pitiful, evaporating instantly in the overwhelming heat.


    The serpentine beasts writhed in desperation, trying to evade the flames, but it was too late. The fire latched onto their scales, climbing their bodies and silencing their anguished cries. As the burnt remains of the beasts fell to the ground, Marcus let out a victorious roar.


    Before the sheer terror of the dragon, the Pamir soldiers scattered in panic.


    "It''s a dragon! Save us!"


    "Argh!"


    Warriors of the tribes rushed forward on horseback, desperately trying to extinguish the blaze. They poured water and heaped sand onto the flames, doing everything they could to combat the inferno. But their efforts were in vain¡ªthe fire only grew stronger, mocking their attempts.


    The blistering heat was unbearable, forcing even those who approached to flee. Warriors caught in the flames screamed and writhed, their bodies alight like grotesque human candles. No one dared approach the battering ram again, leaving only the sound of crackling flames, clanging metal, and thick smoke to dominate the battlefield.


    The soldiers of the Pamir Empire could only watch in stunned silence. In an instant, they had lost all three of their battering rams. Attempting a counterattack, they aimed their ballistae at Marcus, but their efforts were swiftly thwarted.


    Miaomiao, reverting to her original form, darted through the enemy ranks like a flash of lightning, tearing apart the soldiers manning the ballistae. In her wake, she left dismembered limbs, shattered weapons, and blood-soaked earth. Once her work was done, she shrank back into a smaller form and disappeared into the chaos of the imperial army.


    From a distance, enemy beasts rose into the air to challenge Marcus. Griffins and wyverns filled the skies, their piercing cries echoing across the battlefield.


    Garrett''s calm voice warned Michael.


    [Five griffins and twelve wyverns are approaching. Coordinates: 40 degrees west, 70 degrees below Marcus''s current position.]


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 Chapter 143 Rampage Across The Battlefield

    Michael turned, spotting the advancing beasts. Assessing the situation, he issued an order to Marcus.


    "Marcus, climb above the clouds. Let''s use the strategy we practiced. Remember?"


    Excitement coursed through Marcus as he straightened his body, his pulse thrumming beneath Michael''s grip on the reins. With his wings fully spread, Marcus soared into the sky, his enormous frame cutting through the wind. Michael couldn''t help but smile at the familiar rush of air against his face.


    It was a sensation he had deeply missed.


    As Marcus ascended through the clouds, the gargoyles sprang into action. They quickly filled the space Marcus vacated, retrieving bombs from the pouches around their necks. Lighting the fuses with care, they hurled the explosives at the approaching beasts before retreating to safety.


    Unlike the autonomous gargoyles, the imperial beasts carried riders, who mistakenly swung their swords at the incoming bombs. It was a grave error.


    The flaming bombs exploded upon contact, unleashing a fiery blast that scattered shockwaves through the air. The beasts caught in the explosion roared in agony, their bodies twisting as they desperately tried to extinguish the flames¡ªbut it was useless. One by one, the burning creatures plummeted to the ground.


    From their vantage point above the clouds, Marcus and Michael surveyed the battlefield. Marcus''s eyes gleamed as he observed the carnage below: the burning carcasses of beasts, the panicked retreat of imperial soldiers, and the chaos engulfing their ranks.


    [Wow~!] Marcus roared in exhilaration, unable to contain his excitement. His usual gentle demeanor was replaced by an unrelenting ferocity as he reveled in the battle. Even the membranes of his face flared open with excitement.


    To keep him grounded, Michael gently patted Marcus''s neck. "Hold on, Marcus. You''ll get your chance to unleash everything soon. Just wait a little longer."


    Michael placed a hand on his ancient god''s earring, an artifact he had acquired from the underground temple. It emitted a faint glow, responding to his touch. The matching earring was held by his father, Viscount Dominic.


    "Father, lead the knights and cavalry to strike the imperial forces. I''ll join you shortly," Michael instructed.


    Hearing his son''s voice through the artifact, Dominic inhaled deeply. With a firm gesture, he rallied the waiting cavalry.


    "Now is our chance! The enemy is in disarray! Soldiers, seize this moment and break through their lines!"


    At his signal, Sir Ronald led the family''s cavalry into the fray. Behind them, the infantry of the First Corps followed, gripping their weapons tightly as they charged.


    The imperial forces were swept away by the storm like advance.


    Watching the battlefield from above, Michael gave Marcus a new command.


    "Get ready, Marcus. Let''s tear through them," Michael commanded.


    Marcus responded with a powerful flap of his wings, breaking through the clouds and diving sharply toward the battlefield. His descent was like a crimson bolt of lightning striking the earth. The gargoyles, having eliminated the griffins and wyverns, followed closely behind. Miaomiao, who had been destroying siege ballistae, spread her wings and soared into the sky.


    [Michael! All the ballistae are destroyed. What should I do now?]


    Michael laughed heartily. "Now, everyone, assist the soldiers at the struggling points. Use your judgment for attacks. Be swift but cautious. Understood?"


    With cheers of acknowledgment, they dispersed across the battlefield.


    The creatures of war, inherently aggressive, charged into the fray. The gargoyles and Miaomiao were no exception.


    A formidable Hydra, a fourth tier beast with nine venomous heads dripping greenish poison, lunged at Miaomiao. Having identified her as the culprit behind the destruction of their ballistae, the Hydra sought vengeance.


    Unfazed, Miaomiao deftly dodged the attack and extended her claws. S§×ar?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


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    [How dare you! You insolent snake!]


    The Hydra hesitated, its nine heads recoiling instinctively. But Miaomiao''s speed outmatched their reaction. With a single, lethal swipe of her claws, all nine heads were severed simultaneously.


    The Hydra''s vaunted regeneration ability was useless without at least one head intact. Its decapitated body writhed and convulsed, but the battle was already over.


    Nearby soldiers scattered to avoid the splattering venom, casting wary, reverent gazes at Miaomiao. She casually flicked the blood off her claws before lunging at the soldiers, beginning a one sided slaughter.


    Unlike other beasts, which instinctively sought opponents of similar strength, Miaomiao fought cunningly. She targeted knights first, systematically eliminating as many soldiers as possible. Her calculated rampage left a trail of devastation across the battlefield.


    Her usual playful demeanor was nowhere to be found; she fought with cold precision, prioritizing Michael''s mission to kill as many enemies as possible. War demanded death¡ªbetter the enemy than their own forces.


    Meanwhile, the gargoyles spread out to aid endangered allies. One spotted Sir Lancaster, isolated and dismounted from his horse. A massive tribal warrior was bearing down on him with relentless attacks.


    Lancaster struggled to block the warrior''s axe but was losing ground due to his injured leg. Seeing this, the gargoyle swooped in to help.


    The warrior, too focused on his assault, failed to notice the gargoyle''s approach. In a flash, the gargoyle''s claws closed around the warrior''s head.


    "Arrgh!" The startled warrior screamed, dropping his axe as he was dragged into the sky. Moments later, his long scream ended with a sickening thud as his lifeless body crashed to the ground.


    Sir Lancaster, still panting from exertion, watched his attacker reduced to a bloody pulp and exhaled in relief. His heart pounded in his chest as the gargoyle returned to carefully carry him to safety.


    "Thank you¡­ Truly, thank you," Lancaster said.


    The gargoyle turned its head, revealing a sharp toothed grin. [Think nothing of it.]


    Meanwhile, Michael dominated the battlefield, loosing arrow after arrow with lethal precision. Each shot claimed an important target, striking fear into the enemy''s ranks.


    Marcus rampaged across the battlefield, unleashing flames and swinging his massive tail with destructive force. Unlike Michael''s calculated strikes, Marcus''s attacks were indiscriminate, mowing down entire groups of soldiers. The sheer ferocity of his assault sent the Pamir soldiers fleeing in terror.

 Chapter 144 Flawless Victory

    Doric, the Pamir Empire''s commanding general, trembled with rage. His face flushed red as he shouted, "Coward! Ordering a dragon to massacre my men¡ªhave you no honor as a knight?"


    A veteran tribal chief and warrior for over fifty years, Doric''s voice carried across the battlefield.


    Michael sneered in response. "Honor? In war, it''s results that matter, not honor."


    Without hesitation, Michael drew his bow and aimed at Doric. He had been searching for the general''s location, and now Doric had revealed himself.


    Before Doric could react, an arrow struck him square in the forehead. His eyes widened in shock as he toppled from his horse, lifeless.


    The startled horse reared back with a loud whinny as Doric''s body hit the ground, raising a cloud of dust. His death was sudden and futile.


    "Chief! How could this happen?"


    "Father!"


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    Michael watched coldly as warriors rushed toward Doric''s fallen body. He nocked another arrow and loosed it at the grieving soldiers. One by one, they fell, unable even to scream.


    The battlefield fell into an eerie silence. The wailing stopped, and no one dared move, even as their comrades lay dead around them.


    Sensing victory, Michael raised his voice, letting it carry across the battlefield.


    "I am Michael von Crassus, commander of the First Corps of the Kingdom of Lania. The commanding general of the Pamir Empire''s forces is dead¡ªkilled by my hand. I repeat, the Pamir Empire''s general is dead. Surrender now!"


    His declaration, carried by the wind, struck the enemy troops already consumed by chaos and fear. The cavalry under the Crassus banner intensified their assault, trampling over the disheartened soldiers.


    One by one, the Pamir soldiers dropped their weapons and fell to the ground, their faces etched with despair and exhaustion.


    With their siege engines destroyed, their beasts slain, and their leaders picked off by unseen arrows, resistance became meaningless.


    The battlefield grew quiet. The once fearsome Pamir army, which had charged toward the fortress with such confidence, now surrendered en masse.


    Michael dismounted from Marcus, dust trailing behind him. A standard bearer approached and knelt before him, offering a flag emblazoned with the image of a roaring sphinx and dragon.


    Taking the flag, Michael marched to the center of the battlefield and drove it firmly into the ground.


    A gust of wind unfurled the banner, its bold colors catching the light of the setting sun.


    The air filled with a triumphant roar of cheers.


    It was a flawless victory.


    The first victory against the Pamir Empire''s invasion brought joy to both Elonia and Lania.


    King Henry III of Elonia received the news of the triumph at the royal palace. Letting out a deep sigh of relief, he wiped tears from his eyes. For the first time, it felt as though the kingdom had taken a step back from the brink of ruin. A sense of joy replaced the heavy burden on his face.


    The queen, who had been abstaining from food and drink since sending her daughters to the frontlines with the grim task of seducing Prince Randolph, finally rose from her bed. The princesses had departed with the resolve to sacrifice their dignity to save their imperiled country.


    However, with such a significant victory, there was no longer any need for such desperate measures. Instead of rushing to use such drastic tactics, there was now a foundation for a more gradual approach. The queen began drafting a letter to the eldest princess, Elise, to inform her of the change in circumstances.


    Meanwhile, the Kingdom of Lania also celebrated. Although they had initially planned only nominal participation in the war, the victory was nonetheless an opportunity to claim credit¡ªa welcome prospect for all.


    King Charles V of Lania entered the council chamber with a broad smile, holding the victorious report in hand. Nobles already assembled offered their congratulations as the king strode in. S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The one most recognized as the hero of the victory was Michael, who had led the charge to success. Charles V, too, joined the nobles in heaping praise on Michael, delighted by how this achievement could further bolster Prince Randolph''s reputation.


    "Michael''s contributions to this victory are unparalleled," the king declared. "Randolph met him near the Elonian border and spoke highly of his exceptional talents."


    The king''s intentions were clear, and the ministers quickly followed suit, showering the crown prince with praise.


    One noble remarked, "No matter how talented an individual may be, it''s useless without someone to recognize and promote them. This victory is thanks to His Highness''s keen eye for talent."


    Another added, "Indeed, Your Majesty. It''s said that His Highness elevated Michael from a mere commander to a baron and entrusted him with leading the First Corps. Such discernment is a blessing for the kingdom."


    Pleased with the reactions, Charles V beamed. Sending the crown prince to the frontlines to gain experience had proven to be a wise decision. If things continued as they were, there would be little more to wish for.


    Elonia sent its princesses and crown prince to celebrate Lania''s victory, a gesture that could be considered the highest level of hospitality during wartime.


    A grand banquet was held in the fortress hall under the pretense of honoring the soldiers who had defended the frontlines. While the pretext was plausible, the keen observers in attendance were quick to discern Elonia''s true intentions.


    The extravagance of the banquet was excessive, considering Elonia''s dire circumstances. Golden chandeliers bathed the hall in radiant light, dancers and dwarven performers entertained the guests, and the atmosphere was more akin to a peacetime celebration than a hasty wartime gathering.


    The highlight of the evening came with the arrival of the princesses, who entered the hall impeccably dressed to emphasize their unique charms. Although the Elonian crown prince accompanied them, he remained in the background, allowing the princesses to take center stage.


    The sudden appearance of the princesses caused a stir among the attendees. Conversations ceased as all eyes turned to admire their elegant figures.

 Chapter 145 Victory Banquet

    While it would have been sufficient to send only the crown prince to congratulate Lania, bringing along two princesses adorned so exquisitely spoke volumes about Elonia''s intentions. Throughout the hall, knowing smiles spread among those who grasped the political underpinnings of the spectacle.


    Both princesses were stunning, but it was the eldest, Princess Elise, who truly shone. Her radiant smile seemed to transform the very air around her.


    "She''s truly breathtaking. The Elonian royal family is famed for its beauty, but seeing it in person is something else entirely," one noble murmured, unable to take his eyes off Elise.


    "Even with this victory, the war is far from over. Why would the princesses come here?" another asked, his tone laced with confusion.


    "Shh, keep your voice down," his companion replied with a sly smile. "Isn''t it obvious?"


    Elonia had undoubtedly sent the princesses to capture Prince Randolph''s attention. The lavish banquet was not merely a celebration but an extension of political maneuvering.


    Princess Elise, unfazed by the attention, gracefully approached Prince Randolph. Lifting the hem of her dress in a formal greeting, she spoke with a warm smile.


    "It is an honor to meet the radiant sun of Lania, Prince Randolph. All the people of Elonia offer their deepest respects for your magnificent victory."


    "It''s a pleasure to see you again, Princess Elise. I recall meeting you at a banquet several years ago," Randolph replied.


    "I was very young back then," Elise said with a playful smile.


    "Indeed. Much time has passed since," Randolph agreed.


    Standing behind the prince, Michael deliberately kept his distance. As the central figure in the victory, his position had elevated dramatically, and he was careful not to invite any misunderstandings. Fortunately, the princesses had no interest in him, focusing their attention entirely on Prince Randolph.


    Princess Elise, at a marriageable age, deployed all her charm. She wore a rose-hued gown embroidered with gold thread and a ruby-encrusted crown, accentuating her dazzling beauty. If Lania''s Princess Astrid was the epitome of innocence, Elise radiated allure and playfulness.


    A pearl necklace sparkled between her delicate collarbones, resting just above her ample bosom. When she lifted her fan with a smile, she resembled a blooming rose.


    "You''ve grown truly stunning. Would you honor me with a dance?" Randolph asked.


    Smiling sweetly, Elise accepted, taking Randolph''s hand and moving to the center of the hall. Their graceful dance captivated the audience, as if they were watching a painting come to life. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Whatever words they exchanged during the dance, they left Elise laughing as she playfully tapped Randolph''s chest with her hand. Her lighthearted gesture brought a broad smile to the prince''s face.


    Even after the dance ended, their conversation continued. Elise listened intently, her sparkling eyes reflecting curiosity and understanding. Occasionally, she posed sharp questions that caught Randolph off guard or offered subtle smiles that stoked his competitive spirit.


    Her strategy wasn''t to agree with everything Randolph said but to display her intellect while subtly enticing him. Observing her deft handling of the prince, Michael couldn''t help but marvel at her skill.


    Charlotte, the second princess, wore a sapphire-studded crown and a blue gown embroidered with silver thread, her long hair braided elegantly down her back. Unlike her elder sister, Elise, who actively engaged Prince Randolph, Charlotte appeared indifferent.


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    Perhaps it was her youth¡ªher face still bore traces of baby fat, giving her a childlike appearance. Occasionally, she covered her mouth with a fan to stifle a yawn, her disinterest evident. She seemed content to play a supporting role, allowing her elder sister to take the lead in capturing Randolph''s attention.


    Randolph, standing between the radiant princesses, seemed utterly captivated. His expression of pure happiness left Michael inwardly sighing.


    The crown prince''s vulnerability to beauty suggested the rumors of his sheltered upbringing were true. He had no defenses against such charms and was already completely entranced by Princess Elise.


    Michael felt a wave of frustration but quickly dismissed it. If Randolph was willingly falling into this trap, what right did Michael have to intervene?


    While Prince Randolph was engrossed in his growing rapport with Princess Elise, the military leadership convened for a meeting.


    The generals from Elonia entered the room with grim expressions, the tension palpable. Despite the overwhelming success of the first battle, there were still many challenges ahead.


    The vast plains that brought Elonia prosperity were a significant weakness in wartime. Michael couldn''t help but lament the fall of the Dolce defensive line.


    Had the defenses nestled among the foothills of the Draco Mountains held, military operations would have been far easier. Now, only a few fortresses scattered across the plains remained to stand against the enemy.


    The generals grappled with mixed emotions¡ªwhether to blame Elonia''s incompetence for losing such a crucial line or to admire the strength of the Pamir Empire''s forces. The Pamir soldiers'' overwhelming numbers and exceptional cavalry rendered Elonia''s flat defenses nearly useless.


    Elonia''s generals looked visibly uncomfortable, some even embarrassed. Michael steadied himself.


    There was no point in dwelling on the past. What was lost could be reclaimed, and the remaining fortresses needed to be used for flexible defense strategies.


    Surveying the room, Michael spoke calmly, his presence commanding attention. Having led the first battle to victory, he was now treated with the deference of a de facto commander.


    "The loss of the Dolce defensive line is regrettable, but the war has only just begun. Let''s focus on developing new defensive strategies."


    Some generals bristled, but Michael paid them no mind. His reputation as the master of a sphinx and dragon, a prodigious swordsman, and an unmatched marksman preceded him. Furthermore, Prince Randolph''s open support for Michael during the previous night''s banquet lent additional weight to his words.


    Michael continued, his tone conciliatory. "I''d like to hear your insights. If anyone has ideas for strategies, please share them."


    His genuine demeanor softened the generals'' initial reluctance, and they began exchanging ideas.


    The room regained its energy as Count Demonic, one of Elonia''s most renowned strategists, spoke up.


    "We must neutralize the mobility of their forces on the plains. Most of the Pamir warriors move on horseback. How about setting traps throughout the plains?"

 Chapter 146 Arrival Of Reinforcements From Other Regions

    The suggestion garnered nods of agreement. Until now, Elonia had avoided venturing onto the plains out of fear of enemy attacks. However, having regained control of the area near the fortresses, implementing traps seemed feasible.


    General Louis of Lania added his thoughts. "We could dig deep pits and camouflage them with grass or embed spikes in the ground to injure their horses. These methods would effectively slow them down."


    Another general proposed, "For better defense, we could construct mobile barricades."


    The ideas seemed sound. Michael nodded in agreement and presented his plan.


    "All of these strategies are worth pursuing. Additionally, I propose using the remaining fortresses as bases to disrupt the enemy''s movements. We could form special task forces to conduct guerrilla raids and cut off their supply lines."


    The concept of a special operations unit, a modern military strategy, captivated the generals. S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "These task forces would consist of highly mobile elite soldiers capable of penetrating enemy lines. Generals, please select capable knights and soldiers from your ranks and assemble them at the fortress training grounds this afternoon," Michael instructed.


    He met the eyes of those present as he continued. "While strength is important, adaptability is crucial for this mission. Since the operations will require high levels of autonomy, I ask that you choose your candidates carefully."


    After emphasizing the importance of selecting suitable personnel, Michael turned to the subject of traps.


    "We''ll have mages handle the installation of traps. These won''t merely impede the enemy but will also predict and manipulate their movements."


    He concluded by stressing the importance of collaboration. "We''ll need the help of soldiers familiar with the terrain. By combining the knowledge of local soldiers with the expertise of mages, we can maximize the effectiveness of our traps."


    The meeting continued in earnest. Although the crown princes of various kingdoms were absent, their absence was inconsequential. They were symbolic figures at best, offering little to the actual war effort.


    The thought of Randolph lingered in Michael''s mind, stirring unease. If Randolph succumbed to Elonia''s tactics, the political ramifications could become complex.


    Still, Michael shook off his concerns. Such matters were for Charles V and the queen to worry about, not him. His priority was securing victories on the battlefield.


    If the war dragged on, bringing him more opportunities to achieve merit, there would be no downside to that.


    After the meeting, the commanders and officers gathered for a meal. In the spirit of conserving supplies, the buffet featured repurposed dishes from the previous night''s banquet.


    Michael selected a plate of honey-glazed ham and took a seat. As the savory sweetness coated his palate, a burly middle-aged man approached and sat across from him.


    It was Count Demonic, a general from the Kingdom of Elonia. He greeted Michael with a broad smile.


    "Does Elonia''s cuisine suit your taste?"


    "Yes, it''s excellent. Thank you for the meal," Michael replied, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.


    Count Demonic waved dismissively at Michael''s formal manners.


    "No need for such formality. You''re the true hero of this victory, and while it''s not official yet, you''re practically our supreme commander already."


    Michael offered a modest smile and a slight bow. Humility, regardless of rank, was a trait that only benefited him.


    "You flatter me. I still lack experience and will need much guidance."


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    He avoided outright denying the possibility of assuming command. While maintaining humility, Michael ensured his position remained secure.


    Count Demonic chuckled and took a sip of wine. "I''m sure you''ve heard that our kingdom plans to grant titles and land to those who lead the frontlines to victory?"


    "Of course. But I understand that it''s premature to discuss such matters when the war isn''t over yet," Michael replied, his tone firm.


    There was no reason to entertain talk of accepting a title from Elonia at this stage. Doing so might only create unnecessary complications and expose him to political vulnerabilities.


    "I see what you mean. Don''t worry, I wasn''t trying to pressure you," Count Demonic said with a friendly laugh before leaning closer and lowering his voice. "But tell me¡­ Do you have a lady you''re promised to?"


    Michael stifled a sigh, immediately recognizing the Count''s true motive.


    "Ha, my marriage is a matter for my father and grandfather to decide. I have no say in it," he replied with a polite smile.


    "A young man like you must have a type, though?" the Count pressed.


    Michael kept his composure. "I''m quite traditional. I leave such decisions to my family. Personal preferences have no place in such matters."


    Realizing his persistence was futile, the Count clicked his tongue in disappointment. He had hoped to secure a promising son-in-law with a bright future but found Michael unyielding. Most men would have at least humored the conversation, but Michael allowed no room for negotiation.


    As Michael continued enjoying his meal, the discussion shifted to lighter topics, particularly regarding military strategy. For a fleeting moment, the image of Princess Astrid crossed his mind. Probably because she''s the only woman I really know, he thought, dismissing the notion.


    Two days passed as soldiers worked tirelessly to set traps across the plains and construct mobile barricades. Reinforcements from other regions began to trickle in, bolstering Elonia''s forces.


    However, the reinforcements failed to impress. Elonia''s soldiers, accustomed to Michael''s elite troops, found the new arrivals underwhelming.


    Meanwhile, Prince Randolph inexplicably insisted on inspecting the entire army. His demands left General Louis and Duke Capone scrambling to dissuade him.


    "Your Highness, not all units have fully assembled, and the plains are riddled with traps. If the troops march out now, they might damage the traps we just laid," Duke Capone explained carefully, trying to calm the prince.


    General Louis interjected, "No noble would support such a proposal under these circumstances."


    Prince Randolph''s eyes flared with indignation, interpreting the general''s words as a slight against his authority. Duke Capone shot a glare at the tactless general.


    Great, just when I was soothing him, you pour oil on the fire.


    Duke Capone hastily added, "Please, Your Highness, don''t be upset. This isn''t a matter of ignoring your orders. The nobles who brought their troops here have their own rights and responsibilities. Forcing an inspection without sufficient reason could be seen as an insult."

 Chapter 147 The Troublesome Future King

    Prince Randolph gritted his teeth in frustration. His father had often expressed exasperation over dealing with the nobles, and Randolph was beginning to understand why.


    "They send urgent reports from the frontlines, claiming that defensive lines are falling. Morale is already low, and showing our strength would reassure our soldiers and intimidate the enemy. It''s not as if I''m asking for a battle¡ªjust a show of might to deter the reinforcements of the Pamir Empire," Randolph argued.


    Watching the exchange from a distance, Michael felt a pang of disbelief. The prince seemed more interested in posturing than preparing for the enemy. Such actions could provoke even greater opposition, especially considering the Pamir Empire''s reliance on overwhelming numbers.


    It was clear to Michael that Randolph''s true motivation was to impress Princess Elise. Randolph''s frustration only deepened as he recalled Elise''s melancholy smile, her sadness over her inability to directly aid her country. He wanted to ease her worries, but the resistance from the nobles infuriated him.


    Turning abruptly, Randolph addressed Michael. "What about you, Sir Michael? Do you also find my proposal unwise?"


    Caught off guard, Michael quickly composed himself.


    "Your Highness, a parade of our forces could indeed bolster morale. However, I suggest one condition: for your safety, you should remain within the fortress. Your well-being is more critical to us than any display of military strength."


    With this, Michael deftly balanced the prince''s pride while subtly thwarting his plan. Randolph''s desire for a spectacle was evident, but Michael managed to elevate him in the eyes of his subordinates without allowing him to act recklessly.


    Duke Capone and General Louis exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the deftness of Michael''s words.


    Such command over words rivals his military prowess. We are witnessing the rise of a new star while our influence wanes.


    Prince Randolph, still flustered, pressed the matter. "Are you saying I shouldn''t lead the army in a review?"


    Without such a display, the prince felt his intentions would be meaningless. Noticing his expression, Michael seized the opportunity to solidify his position.


    "With all due respect, Your Highness, I fear the current state of our troops might not withstand the strain of such an inspection. While the northeastern forces are well-trained due to repeated skirmishes, I cannot say the same for the others. Given the situation, the risk of an incident is simply too great. For now, it would be unwise for Your Highness to personally oversee them," Michael said, shaking his head as if pained by the reality.


    Randolph paused, his pride wounded but his reason slowly catching up. He cleared his throat in an attempt to recover his composure.


    "Hmm, I see. You make a valid point. That being said¡­ Sir Michael, your forces are exemplary. Perhaps we could train the others to reach a similar standard?"


    Michael had to summon every ounce of patience from both his past and present lives to hold his tongue. The prince''s request struck a nerve.


    Train them? Train them?!


    His mind raced with frustration. What makes you think training other nobles'' troops would turn them into mine? Why should I bear the burden of training someone else''s soldiers?


    The First Corps under Michael''s command was composed of knights sworn to the Crassus family, alongside their handpicked men. Nobles guarded their training methods fiercely, passing them down within their lineage to maintain power. For Randolph to suggest such an overreach was nothing short of appalling.


    Before Michael''s tight-lipped smile could fully falter, Duke Capone stepped in.


    "Your Highness, such a proposal is unlikely to be well-received. Training one''s soldiers is a noble''s privilege, entirely separate from following commands during wartime," the duke explained diplomatically.


    Randolph''s irritation was evident.


    Useless, selfish nobles! he thought bitterly. Once I ascend to the throne, I''ll rid the kingdom of those who lack the vision to serve the greater good.


    Michael watched Randolph closely, quickly realizing that the prince''s frustrations stemmed from more than naivety.


    It''s not a lack of education¡ªit''s an excess of it.


    Having witnessed King Charles V''s struggles against the entrenched power of the nobility, Randolph had developed a disdain for feudal limitations. As a future monarch, his desire for absolute authority was understandable, but to Michael, a noble himself, it was unsettling. The political climate under Randolph''s rule would need careful observation.


    Randolph finally relented with a tight smile. "Very well. I appreciate your concern for my safety, Sir Michael. It seems only you truly understand the value of our kingdom''s strength."


    His tone softened, and his gaze toward Michael grew more favorable.


    Duke Capone silently sighed in relief, thankful that the tension had subsided. Outwardly, he smiled, but inwardly, Michael''s concerns lingered. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


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    This man, so ambitious and arrogant, yet lacking the substance to match his aspirations, will someday be king¡­ The challenges ahead are already clear.


    The next day, Prince Randolph seemed to have regained his spirits. A red ribbon tied around his wrist, gifted by Princess Elise, fluttered with his every movement. He frequently touched it, a satisfied smile on his face.


    The sight was enough to confirm that Elonia''s efforts had not been in vain.


    Meanwhile, Michael''s mood had also lifted. The rewards sent by Elonia for his recent victory had arrived, exceeding expectations.


    Having subtly hinted at his preferences through Count Demonic, the rewards came mostly in the form of material goods: chests of gold and jewels, fine weaponry, armor, and even warhorses.


    Michael distributed the rewards generously. The warhorses went to Sir Lancaster and other knights who had lost their steeds in battle. Additional treasures were shared among his men, ensuring their satisfaction.


    When heavy pouches of gold reached the hands of the knights, their faces lit with gratitude. Michael knew well the importance of rewarding loyalty.


    "Rest assured, this is only the beginning," Michael said. "For those who continue to follow the Crassus family, there will be ample rewards once the war concludes. Titles and lands await the deserving. Fight well, and you will not be disappointed."


    His words sparked eager determination in the knights, many of whom lacked substantial landholdings. Even those with existing estates perked up at the prospect of fertile Elonian lands.

 Chapter 148 Target

    After dismissing the knights, Michael allowed himself a moment of reprieve. He glanced at Marcus, who slyly pocketed a few jewels from the stash. Pretending not to notice, Michael focused on refining his strategies.


    His thoughts were interrupted when his squire, Alex, entered hurriedly.


    "Sir, Lady Miaomia and the gargoyles have returned."


    Michael''s elite reconnaissance team, composed of the shapeshifting Miaomia and the gargoyles, had been scouting the plains. Their versatility made them ideal for the task.


    Miaomia, upon entering, immediately flopped onto the floor in a show of exaggerated exhaustion. S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Did the mission go well?" Michael asked, hiding his amusement.


    [Exhausted. They''re faster than I expected. But as you suspected, they''re moving in tribal units. I''ve marked their general locations. We focused on tracking supply routes, as you requested.]


    Michael nodded, satisfied. His prediction about their mobility and tactics had been accurate. Soon, they would regret splitting into smaller units.


    Taking the scrolls brought back by the reconnaissance team, Michael headed to the secret training ground where the special task force was drilling.


    The task force was composed of knights chosen by the nobility of Elonia and Lania. Most were either direct descendants of noble families or closely related to knights.


    This arrangement reflected the nobles'' desire to avoid placing all their heirs in one place. While eldest sons remained with their families to defend the main frontlines, younger sons were sent to join the task force and operate in the plains.


    It was a calculated move to prevent the catastrophic loss of all heirs in a single battle.


    As Michael arrived at the training ground, the exhausted knights sprang to their feet, snapping to attention.


    "The devil has arrived!" someone muttered under their breath, but Michael ignored it, his mind focused on the battle to come.


    Louis, the youngest son of Count Charles, had volunteered for the special task force. He was acutely aware of how his life had been shielded under his father''s protection. For the first time, he wanted to step out from that shelter and achieve something on his own.


    Thankfully, his efforts had not been in vain, as he was selected to join the special unit. The selection process had been grueling, but it brought with it a sense of accomplishment. Among the chosen, Louis recognized many familiar faces¡ªyoung nobles like himself, sharing similar privileged backgrounds.


    This was true even for those from Elonia. Aside from the knights Michael had personally brought, most of the members were scions of prominent families. These young men and women, not yet fully seasoned, were ready to risk their lives to prove their worth.


    Count Charles visited the training ground to congratulate his son. Seeing the task force composed of esteemed noble offspring reassured him. With such distinguished members, there was little risk of them being treated as expendable.


    These recruits were not just noble by birth but also skilled and talented. While the nature of their missions carried inherent danger, it seemed unlikely they would meet senseless deaths. Moreover, with Michael personally leading the unit, their chances of survival increased significantly.


    Michael''s reputation as a competent commander, coupled with the proven skill of the knights he had brought, gave Count Charles further peace of mind.


    However, Louis''s training quickly turned into a harsh reality. The charismatic and approachable Michael seemed to vanish, replaced by a merciless commander. Training sessions were grueling beyond imagination, testing both body and mind to their breaking point.


    For Louis, the physical and mental agony was unlike anything he had ever endured. Compared to this, his past training felt like child''s play.


    Watching his youngest son, covered in sweat and dirt, struggling through the exercises, Count Charles couldn''t help but feel a pang of sorrow. Eventually, he approached Michael to voice his concerns.


    "Sir Michael, the training seems excessively harsh. As you know, these young men are inexperienced. Couldn''t the training be moderated somewhat?"


    Michael''s response was cold and firm.


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    "Count Charles, the special task force will be deployed on the most dangerous and critical missions. Those who can''t survive the training won''t survive on the battlefield. Regardless of rank or status, this rigorous training will continue. If you''re concerned, I suggest withdrawing your son. This is a war, not a picnic."


    Count Charles''s face hardened as he fell into a heavy silence. To pull Louis out now would be a disgrace, one that neither of them could live down.


    Resolving to support his son''s decision, he stepped back and left the training to continue.


    The grueling training finally ended, and the recruits sprawled across the training ground, utterly exhausted. Their bodies were covered in sweat and dirt, and their muscles were strained to their limits.


    Some exchanged lighthearted jokes, but most remained silent, catching their breath.


    When Michael appeared, the atmosphere instantly shifted. The recruits scrambled to their feet, the air growing heavy with tension.


    Holding a scroll containing intelligence gathered by Miaomiao and the gargoyles, Michael addressed the group.


    "Our target is the rearmost unit of the Pamir Empire''s forces," he announced in a low, commanding voice.


    "The nearest target is located 200 kilometers ahead. Their numbers are approximately 2,000, though we haven''t identified their tribe. Judging by their discipline, they won''t be an easy opponent. Tonight, we''ll launch a surprise attack. Stay alert!"


    A palpable tension spread among the recruits as they processed Michael''s words. Louis took a deep breath, replaying the instructions in his mind.


    One of the knights hesitated before raising a hand. His voice betrayed a mix of anxiety and curiosity.


    "Why target the rearmost unit? Is it a supply unit? Wouldn''t it make more sense to strike the closest advancing force to halt their progress?"


    Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group. Michael surveyed the knights calmly before responding.


    "Attacking the nearest advancing unit might seem logical, but it would also expose us. If the advancing tribes find their comrades annihilated, they''ll be on high alert."


    He paused, meeting the eyes of the questioning knight and others.


    "Our goal isn''t to annihilate the Empire''s forces entirely but to disrupt their supply lines and diminish their numbers. Do you understand?"


    The knights nodded in agreement, the reasoning clear.

 Chapter 149 The Birth of a legend

    The young, inexperienced recruits couldn''t hide their nervousness, while Michael''s seasoned knights exuded calm confidence. Many of them had initially joined to claim Marcus''s bloodline, only to find themselves under Michael''s command. Though they had entered reluctantly, the accolades they earned in battle made them active participants.


    With their participation, there was no shortage of aerial mounts for this mission.


    Mounting Marcus, Michael led the way. The recruits followed, each boarding their assigned mounts.


    As the creatures'' wings unfurled and began to beat, Michael gave the command.


    "Let''s go, Marcus!"


    Marcus took to the sky with a powerful leap, and the other mounts followed in formation.


    Louis felt the ground recede beneath him and gripped the reins tightly. The chimera lent to him by his father offered words of reassurance.


    [Don''t be too nervous. You''ll be fine.]


    The first mission of the elite task force, composed entirely of handpicked soldiers, was underway.


    Hidden in the cover of night, Michael and the task force soared undetected, thanks to the concealment magic cast by Miaomiao. Even if someone on the ground looked up, they would see nothing but shadows darker than usual.


    Below, the Pamir Empire''s forces had set up camp on the plains. The air was filled with the sounds of raucous laughter, singing, and the clinking of glasses as the soldiers feasted on meat and drank freely.


    The knights, observing the lively scene from above, felt their nerves tighten. Stay tuned for updates on My Virtual Library Empire


    Michael, silent among the darkened skies, studied the enemy camp intently. Though the details were obscured by the night, the size and layout of the encampment indicated that this was no ordinary force. S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    From the number of horses alone, it was clear that over half of the 2,000-strong unit were warriors, a testament to their strength.


    His sharp gaze swept across the enemy lines, and with calculated calm, he issued his next command.


    Michael stood tall, addressing the special task force assembled before him. His voice carried authority, cutting through the tension in the air.


    "Marcus, the First Battalion, and I will lead the initial assault. The Second and Third Battalions will encircle the area, ensuring no one escapes. We can''t afford to let a single one of them survive. Only then can we continue these ambushes without raising their alarm. Understood?"


    The knights listened intently, determination flashing in their eyes.


    As the night veiled their movements, the ambush began. With a smaller force against a larger enemy, their attack needed to be swift and overwhelming.


    Marcus unleashed a torrent of flames upon the enemy camp, lighting up the night sky with a crimson glow. The fire spread rapidly, consuming the tents and supplies.


    Inside one of the burning tents, Ihar, the Black Hawk Tribe''s chieftain, was jolted awake by the frantic voice of one of his trusted warriors.


    "Chieftain! Wake up! A dragon is attacking the camp from the skies!"


    Still groggy from sleep, Ihar pushed aside his blanket and stepped outside. The sight that greeted him was chaos: flames engulfing the camp, soldiers running in panic, and horses whinnying in terror.


    Wasting no time, Ihar grabbed his axe and barked orders at a young soldier frozen in place.


    "Pull yourself together! Find your unit and regroup! Abandon the burning tents and focus on escaping. We''ll reorganize later!"


    While it pained him to leave their supplies behind, Ihar''s quick decision reflected his leadership. With his bodyguards, he began navigating through the flames to escape.


    Unfortunately, he faced an opponent far superior.


    From above, Michael spotted the fleeing group and drew his enchanted bow. He relished the weapon''s efficiency, needing no arrows as each shot materialized on command.


    Taking a deep breath, he loosed an arrow. The sharp twang of the bowstring was followed by a piercing sound as the arrow struck true.


    Ihar looked down, confused. A glowing arrow was embedded in his chest. It disintegrated into light moments later, but the wound remained. Before he could process what had happened, he collapsed.


    Seeing their chieftain fall, his warriors panicked. Chaos spread as they were picked off one by one by Michael''s relentless arrows.


    The knights cheered at the sight of Michael''s precision.


    "Truly a divine marksman!"


    "Let''s not lag behind! Kill any who try to escape!"


    The knights, mounted on their beasts, formed a perimeter around the camp. Warriors who attempted to escape the flames met their end at the hands of the knights.


    Michael, ever cautious, reminded them not to be reckless.


    "Don''t rush into the flames to claim glory! Target only those emerging from the fire."


    Following his orders, the knights avoided unnecessary risks, focusing on eliminating fleeing enemies.


    With Ihar and his bodyguards neutralized, Michael ascended on Marcus''s back to survey the battlefield. Below, the scene was a hellscape of fire and death.


    He tasked Miaomiao with further reconnaissance.


    "Miaomiao, scout the perimeter. Ensure no one escapes to warn other tribes."


    [Understood,] she replied succinctly, leaping off Michael''s shoulder and taking flight.


    Those who managed to slip past the knights were soon hunted down by Miao and the gargoyles.


    Michael himself continued his deadly vigil from above, loosing arrows with unerring accuracy. The silent, unseen projectiles sowed confusion and terror among the fleeing warriors.


    The Pamir soldiers, unable to see their attackers, succumbed to panic. They tripped over one another, desperate to escape the invisible hunter. In the shadow of death, they were reduced to prey.


    "Excellent work, everyone," Michael murmured to himself, his voice calm yet resolute.


    He took aim at a small group attempting to break through the encirclement, his expression unwavering. Methodically, he shattered their hopes of survival with each precise shot.


    As the battle wore on, the enemy''s desperation grew. Warriors sprinted blindly through the flames or sought refuge in the nearby woods. Their survival instincts varied, but the outcome was always the same: death.


    The knights, following Michael''s instructions, left no stragglers alive.


    When dawn finally broke, the once-fiery battlefield was reduced to smoldering ruins. The air was thick with the stench of smoke and blood.


    Michael dismounted from Marcus and walked through the charred remains of the enemy camp. The aftermath was one of absolute destruction¡ªproof of the night''s ferocity.


    "Roll call," he commanded curtly.


    The battalion leaders quickly assembled their men, calling out their reports.


    "First Battalion! No casualties. Three wounded, none critically!"


    The First Battalion leader''s voice, though fatigued, carried satisfaction.


    "Second Battalion! No casualties or injuries!"


    The announcement drew a collective sigh of relief and a flicker of hope.


    "Third Battalion! Same here¡ªno casualties, two lightly injured!"


    As the final report was delivered, a wave of jubilant cheers erupted among the knights.


    They clapped each other on the shoulders, celebrating their success. Against a force nearly seven times their size, they had achieved the impossible: the enemy was annihilated, and their own suffered no losses.


    The camaraderie born from their grueling training now solidified in victory. Their hearts swelled with pride and relief.


    Above all, their admiration for Michael reached new heights.


    They looked to him with reverence, seeing in him not just a commander but a hero. His tactical brilliance, unwavering leadership, and unmatched combat skills left no doubt in their minds.


    A new legend had been born.

 Chapter 150 A Stroke of Luck

    With roll call completed, Michael scanned the surroundings, his gaze sharp and calculating.


    "Marcus, take care of it," he said, his voice calm but firm.


    Marcus nodded, stepping forward to unleash a torrent of flames upon the Pamir Empire''s camp. The fire roared to life, devouring everything in its path. The bodies of the fallen were consumed, reduced to ashes in the inferno.


    The early morning mist thickened, blending seamlessly with the concealment magic Miaomiao had cast earlier. This ensured that their operation remained unnoticed.


    "Search the area thoroughly. There may still be survivors," Michael ordered.


    His squad, accompanied by beasts with keen senses of smell, dispersed to comb the area. The once-chaotic battlefield now lay in eerie silence, with only the faint heat of the dissipating flames lingering in the air.


    Before long, a scout returned with a report.


    "We found no signs of life. All enemies appear to have perished."


    Michael narrowed his eyes, his expression contemplative. Miaomiao, perched on his shoulder, whispered softly.


    [The scout''s right. There are no survivors.]


    Satisfied with the confirmation, Michael mounted Marcus once more.


    "Good. Reform the ranks. We''ll head straight for the next Imperial unit and continue disrupting their supply lines."


    The soldiers nodded, their movements precise as they regrouped. Michael was determined to make the most of their position, targeting as many enemy forces as possible before returning.


    Meanwhile, at Orlando Fortress, good news arrived, spreading relief among the ranks. A direct message to the high command detailed the success of Michael''s special task force. They had accomplished their mission without any casualties.


    Count Charles and the other senior officers of the Lania forces breathed a collective sigh of relief. Many of them had sent their sons to join the special task force, hoping to temper their skills and experience. Despite their confidence in their children''s abilities, worry had lingered in their hearts.


    To hear of such a decisive victory brought immense joy.


    "Their performance has exceeded expectations," Count Charles remarked, his voice tinged with pride.


    General Louis nodded in agreement.


    "With so many inexperienced recruits, I was concerned, but the results speak for themselves."


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    The room buzzed with admiration for Michael''s leadership.


    "It seems Sir Michael truly led them splendidly," one officer said.


    "He''s exceeded every expectation," added another.


    "I should have sent my son along as well," joked a third, eliciting laughter from the group.


    Not everyone shared the same enthusiasm. Prince Randolph, who had arrived late to the military meeting after oversleeping, frowned as he listened to the praise being heaped upon Michael.


    Before he could voice his displeasure, Duke Capone approached and informed him of the details.


    "Sir Michael and his special task force successfully eliminated a group of approximately 2,000 enemy soldiers. They achieved this without a single casualty."


    Randolph''s expression darkened. He had been irked since the decision to form the task force was made in his absence. It wasn''t the creation of the unit that bothered him but rather the fact that it had been decided without his input.


    And now, to hear of their success only added salt to the wound.


    "Hmm, so they attacked a scattered rear unit, killing every last one without suffering any losses?" His tone was laced with skepticism.


    The room grew tense. Despite the positive news, the prince''s reaction cast a shadow over the atmosphere.


    General Louis, perplexed by the prince''s response, wondered if his concern stemmed from fears of exaggeration or false claims of glory.


    "Rest assured, Your Highness," Louis said cautiously. "The achievements of Sir Michael and his task force are above reproach. The unit includes many nobles'' children from both Lania and Elonia."


    Randolph''s eyes narrowed as he listened. Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Achievements?" he scoffed. "Ambushing a slow-moving rear unit and wiping them out¡ªdoes that really count as a significant achievement?"


    His words carried a hint of derision, prompting Duke Capone to step in diplomatically.


    "Your Highness, while it''s possible the accomplishment has been somewhat exaggerated, dismissing it entirely would be unwise. The task force comprises distinguished knights and noble scions. Casting doubt on their success could create unnecessary friction among the aristocracy."


    Though he had spoken candidly earlier, Randolph knew better than to push further. He composed himself and adopted a more amicable tone.


    "My concern isn''t with their current accomplishments," he explained. "I simply wish for them to aim higher. This is only the beginning of their potential, don''t you agree?"


    The tension in the room eased as the nobles laughed, perceiving his words as a sign of encouragement. Randolph smiled faintly, satisfied that he had deflected any suspicion.


    Michael, unaware of the prince''s veiled scrutiny, remained focused on the battlefield. His only priority was to ensure swift and decisive victories.


    Unlike the previous night''s ambush, the daytime operation posed new challenges. Under the bright sun, the effects of concealment magic were diminished, and the enemy would likely maintain a higher state of vigilance.


    The target this time was a larger force¡ª1,000 cavalry and 4,000 infantry, escorting a convoy of supply wagons.


    "What do we know about the tribe ahead?" asked Louis, riding alongside an Elonian knight atop his borrowed chimera.


    Though exhilarated by the previous night''s success, the daylight engagement filled Louis with unease.


    The knight squinted, studying the enemy from a distance.


    "It''s difficult to identify the tribe from this range," he admitted. "But judging by the convoy and their numbers, they''re undoubtedly stronger than the group we faced last night."


    The unease was palpable among the task force, prompting Michael to address them directly.


    "Stay calm," he said firmly.


    His voice carried authority and reassurance.


    "The force ahead is larger, but their banners tell the story. Look closely. Those aren''t the markings of a single tribe¡ªit''s a patchwork of different groups. They lack cohesion and unity."


    The knights looked closer, noticing the varied banners fluttering in the wind. Michael was right.


    "Our primary concern is their cavalry," he continued. "The infantry is disorganized and uncoordinated. For now, wait here. I''ll initiate the attack and signal when it''s time for the rest of you to advance. Understood?"

 Chapter 151 Battle Concluded

    The knights murmured amongst themselves, their apprehension turning to awe as Michael readied himself.


    "He''s attacking alone?" someone whispered.


    The doubts vanished as Michael mounted Marcus, bow in hand, and descended toward the enemy.


    High above, Michael steadied himself on Marcus''s back, surveying the enemy convoy below. The supply wagons formed the heart of the column, flanked by soldiers on all sides.


    Michael nocked five arrows simultaneously and aimed at the enemy column below. As the bowstring released, the arrows shot through the air with a piercing sound, striking down five targets instantly.


    The precision and speed of his attack left the enemy dumbfounded. Panic spread as soldiers looked around in confusion, searching for the source of the attack. Michael wasted no time, lifting his bow again and unleashing another volley.


    Mounted soldiers fell one after another, unable to react in time. As the assault continued, the front-line warriors raised their shields and sought cover behind the supply wagons, desperately trying to survive.


    Some of the soldiers managed to spot Michael and Marcus high in the sky, but there was little they could do. Their attempts to counterattack only deepened the chaos.


    "A dragon rider! He''s attacking from the sky!"


    "The arrows are raining down on us from above!"


    A few archers, at their commander''s frantic orders, tried to fire back at Michael. Their arrows, however, fell short, barely even reaching Marcus.


    "Shoot higher! He can''t have unlimited arrows¡ªwear him down!" shouted the last remaining commander, his voice trembling.


    But even his commands were futile. The disoriented archers, shooting blindly at the sky, quickly exposed their positions. Michael, observing their efforts from above, smirked coldly.


    "You want to duel with a bow? Very well, challenge accepted," he muttered.


    He quickly shifted his aim, targeting the archers who had revealed themselves. One by one, they fell, unable to match his unmatched precision.


    The commander, hiding beneath a supply wagon, barked orders in desperation, but his cowardice only fueled the soldiers'' despair. With their leaders dead or cowering, the soldiers began to flee.


    "Run! He''s a monster¡ªa demon!"


    "Stop! Rally together!" the commander screamed, but his voice no longer reached his troops.


    Michael continued his assault methodically, focusing on mounted enemies first and then targeting heavily armored soldiers. The chaos reached its peak when even the cowardly commander under the wagon was finally silenced by Michael''s arrow.


    With all leadership eliminated, the remaining soldiers were nothing more than disorganized infantry.


    The task force, perched atop their flying beasts, watched the scene unfold with jaws agape.


    "Is he even human?" one knight muttered.


    "What are we witnessing here?"


    Even for seasoned warriors, Michael''s feat was beyond comprehension. To fire hundreds of arrows from the back of a dragon, each finding its mark flawlessly¡ªsuch a thing was unheard of.


    By the time Michael lowered his bow, over 700 enemies lay dead. The knights, unaware of the magical power Michael had absorbed, could only watch in stunned silence.


    Satisfied with the results, Michael gave the signal for the task force to advance. Marcus''s fiery tail lashed through the air, and the knights charged with a roar, their beasts diving toward the panicked enemy.


    Michael watched as his soldiers surged forward, his bow now at rest. The hard part was over¡ªhe had shattered the enemy''s morale. The task force could handle the rest.


    As the knights clashed with the remaining soldiers, Michael directed his attention to any stragglers attempting to flee. Mounted on Marcus, he patrolled the battlefield, picking off escapees with deadly precision.


    Though not as one-sided as the previous night''s ambush, the outcome was just as decisive. Find your next adventure on My Virtual Library Empire sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    When the battle concluded, Michael descended from Marcus''s back, surveying the wreckage.


    "Miaomiao, check the perimeter. Make sure no one escaped. Take the other beasts with you," he ordered.


    [Understood,] Miaomiao replied, summoning other beasts to assist in the sweep. The disciplined hierarchy among the beasts was evident as they followed her command without hesitation.


    Meanwhile, Michael and the task force began gathering the fallen soldiers'' bodies into a central area.


    Michael knew better than anyone the dangers of leaving corpses unattended. The risk of disease was high, and in a world filled with magic, there was always the possibility of malevolent spirits or dark entities taking advantage of such remnants.


    "Bring all the bodies here. Ensure none are left scattered. Let''s finish this quickly," he instructed.


    While the soldiers moved the bodies, Michael enlisted a few beasts to dig a massive pit. Their powerful claws made short work of the task.


    [Is this deep enough?] one of the beasts asked.


    "Perfect. Now, toss the bodies in," Michael replied.


    Once the bodies were piled into the pit, Michael turned to Marcus.


    "Burn it," he commanded.


    Marcus unleashed a torrent of flames, reducing the corpses to ash. The fire roared fiercely, its heat and smoke spreading across the plains.


    The task force stood silently, watching the flames consume the remains. The acrid stench of burning flesh filled the air, but no one flinched. They knew this was a necessary step.


    Amidst the carnage, one surprising discovery lifted their spirits. Upon inspecting the enemy''s wagons, the soldiers uncovered a trove of supplies¡ªfood, weapons, and other valuable resources.


    "This is incredible," one soldier exclaimed, his voice tinged with awe. The excitement rippled through the group as they explored the unexpected bounty.


    Michael allowed himself a rare smile.


    "Looks like we got lucky. These supplies will be well-received back at the fortress."


    After ensuring the spoils of war were distributed among the beasts, Michael urged them onward. Marcus, who noticed a golden chest on the back of another beast, let out a sorrowful whimper, but Michael pretended not to notice.


    "Miaomiao," Michael called softly.


    The small creature perched on his shoulder, busily grooming its fur, lazily raised its head. Its bright green eyes met Michael''s.


    "Select a few beasts with keen eyesight and have them scout the surroundings. Cover all directions¡ªnorth, south, east, and west¡ªwithin a 30-kilometer radius," he instructed.


    Letting out a sigh, Miaomiao nodded.


    "Understood, but include this reconnaissance as a special mission and compensate me accordingly," the creature replied telepathically.

 Chapter 152 The Rock Bear Tribe

    "Of course. All the gold you and Marcus earn is being managed wisely by Zark," Michael reassured.


    With Miaomiao dispatched to lead the reconnaissance, Michael took to the skies with his other comrades. Marcus''s now-familiar wing beats harmonized with the soft wind, creating a soothing rhythm.


    The troops'' faces reflected a mixture of fatigue and joy¡ªan earned pride from their victory using an unprecedented attack strategy. As dozens of beasts flew in a line against the crimson sunset, the sight resembled a magnificent painting. S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Following the success of the Special Task Force''s mission, Michael felt a slight sense of relief. Yet, victory did not grant the luxury of complacency. Suppressing the elation bubbling within, Michael raised his voice to address the group.


    "Do not remove your armor yet, and remain vigilant. The enemies we''ve faced so far were not the Pamir Empire''s main forces. Overconfidence will be our downfall¡ªstay on guard!"


    No sooner had he issued his orders than a laid-back voice chimed in from behind.


    "Sir Michael, don''t you think you''re being overly cautious? Encountering a significant threat here is highly unlikely¡ªunless one of the Five Great Tribes happens to be nearby. Haha!"


    Turning, Michael saw Sir Kevin atop his Hydra, wearing a relaxed smile. A seasoned knight dispatched from the capital to retrieve Marcus''s pure blood, Kevin was known for his nonchalant remarks. His Hydra, too, had been lured into service by promises of a salary¡ªthanks to Marcus and Miaomiao''s sly tactics.


    Michael sighed at Kevin''s cavalier attitude. "Sir Kevin, heed my warning. Regardless of past achievements, death can come in an instant."


    Barely had Michael finished speaking when a griffon swooped in with a rush of powerful wings, its labored breathing signaling urgency. This griffon was one of the scouts sent with Miaomiao.


    "Lady Nefertari has intercepted and killed a Rock Bear Tribe messenger 40 kilometers ahead. According to him, their forces were en route to join the supply unit we annihilated. Upon discovering the destruction of their allies, they have requested reinforcements from another Rock Bear unit. Nefertari advises immediate action, as they await further orders," the griffon reported.


    Hearing this, Michael fixed Kevin with a glare laden with reproach. His earlier flippant comments had now been proven disastrously short-sighted. With their presence exposed, there was no avoiding a confrontation.


    "Everyone, prepare for battle formations!" Michael commanded. As the leader of the Special Task Force, his authority was absolute.


    The troops quickly snapped into action, donning armor and readying their weapons with steely determination. Michael roused Marcus, who was dozing off mid-flight, his wings flapping unconsciously.


    "Wake up, Marcus. The enemy is ahead," Michael said firmly.


    Marcus opened his weary eyes and grumbled, "I''m too tired¡­ Can''t we just avoid them?"


    "No," Michael replied decisively. "They''ve already found traces of us. It''s a Rock Bear Tribe unit meant to reinforce the supply convoy we destroyed. From now on, leave some commanders alive for interrogation."


    The Rock Bear Tribe, one of the Five Great Tribes, was not to be underestimated. Hailing from the desert, they were renowned for their bravery and their warriors'' ability to harness the power of bear spirits. Many could transform into half-beast, half-human forms, and while their full transformations were rare, even their hybrid state made them formidable foes.


    Michael assessed the enemy''s strength. Approximately 3,000 Rock Bear warriors were stationed ahead¡ªsmaller than what might be expected from one of the Five Great Tribes but understandable given their assignment. Resolving to leave no trace of their own forces, Michael led a cautious advance.


    "Keep a 1-kilometer distance between groups and follow me carefully," he instructed.


    With their movements coordinated, the task force approached the enemy under Michael''s command. Marcus, stretching his forelegs to shake off drowsiness, followed the griffon scout. Behind them, dozens of beasts aligned themselves in formation.


    In the distance, the Rock Bear Tribe''s distinctive banner¡ªa black bear on a crimson background¡ªbecame visible. Warriors imbued with the spirits of bears were seen patrolling, their massive forms cloaked in coarse black fur. At nearly three meters tall, their imposing figures struck fear into any observer.


    Fortunately, few among them appeared to have fully merged with their bear spirits¡ªa state reserved for their strongest warriors, comprising only about 10% of their force. Even so, their sheer presence was daunting.


    After completing his reconnaissance, Michael returned to his waiting troops, who had held position a kilometer behind.


    "Up ahead lies a force of roughly 3,000 from the Rock Bear Tribe, one of the Five Great Tribes of the Pamir Empire," he announced, pausing to let the gravity of his words settle.


    "Their numbers may seem small, but this unit was deployed to support the supply convoy we eliminated earlier. If we execute our plan methodically, this victory will be a significant achievement." Stay updated via My Virtual Library Empire


    The troops stiffened at the mention of the Rock Bear Tribe, known for their natural strength and courage. Their ability to channel the power of spirits in battle had instilled fear even in seasoned knights. But recalling their recent victories under Michael''s leadership, the soldiers steadied themselves.


    They trusted their commander¡ªand knew that triumph lay in disciplined execution.


    Michael carefully observed the resolute expressions of his troops before continuing.


    "Everyone, stay mounted and conceal yourselves in the surrounding area. Identify the exact path the enemy will take, and establish a perfect encirclement. Once Marcus and I give the signal, launch a coordinated attack immediately. Do not miss the signal. Understood?"


    "Yes, sir!"


    The resounding response echoed with confidence, their eyes burning with determination rather than fear. Satisfied with their readiness, Michael nodded.


    "This battle will be unlike any previous ones. The enemy is elite and possesses extraordinary abilities. In particular, those who have fully transformed into bears wield immense power. Fortunately, their numbers are few. I will personally take care of them. Each of you, carry out your roles from your assigned positions and fight to survive."


    Meanwhile, among the Rock Bear Tribe¡­


    "Commander Sakar, the supply unit we were supposed to meet here appears to have been annihilated. Their goods are gone, and all we found were shattered carts and scattered corpses."


    The unexpected report caused Sakar, an elder with crimson-hued skin, to scowl deeply.

 Chapter 153 How Dare They!

    "Who dares? We were assured that the forces of the Elonia Kingdom were holed up in their fortress, nowhere in sight! Was it those damn Black Hawk Tribe scouts giving us false information to target us deliberately?"


    Grinding his teeth, Sakar let out a heavy sigh. Though part of the same empire, the tribes were rife with factionalism. The Black Hawk Tribe, known for their cunning and their role as scouts due to their ability to move swiftly on wings, often played their own games. Sakar suspected they might have distorted information to diminish the Rock Bear Tribe''s influence.


    Scanning his surroundings, Sakar felt his anger boiling over. Finally, unable to suppress it any longer, he lashed out.


    "What are you all standing around for? The supply unit was no pushover. If they were wiped out, the enemy must be formidable. Get into formation now! Must I spell everything out for you?" Discover more content at My Virtual Library Empire


    Barking orders at his younger kin, Sakar steadied his breathing and began drawing upon the ancestral power of their tribe. His muscles swelled, thick black fur sprouted across his arms, and his jaw elongated into a muzzle lined with razor-sharp teeth. His entire body grew larger as he transformed.


    Fully assuming his bear-like form, Sakar surveyed the area with fierce vigilance. The enemy could strike at any moment.


    "Fools, I warned them to finish this war before Lania Kingdom intervenes¡­" he thought bitterly, suppressing his rage as best he could.


    The transformation made it harder to control his emotions, but as he brooded over the tribe''s leaders who had wasted time bickering over terms, a sudden sharp pain pierced his thoughts.


    An arrow struck his forehead squarely, and his surroundings fell silent. In a flash, everything stopped. The world blurred and faded away as a chilling cold spread through his body.


    "Uncle!"


    A young warrior, Karato, screamed as he witnessed Sakar fall lifelessly. Looking toward the direction of the arrow, he spotted a crimson dragon hovering far in the distance.


    Grinding his teeth in fury, Karato transformed into his bear-like form, his enlarged arm grabbing a spear strapped to his back. He hurled it at the dragon with all his might, aiming for its rider.


    The spear intercepted Michael''s second arrow mid-air and continued its trajectory, falling just short of Marcus.


    Michael, impressed by the display of strength, smirked. "So, the Five Great Tribes truly live up to their reputation." sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Marcus, we should gain more altitude," he advised.


    Though there likely weren''t many enemies capable of such power, there was no point in risking unnecessary danger. Michael adjusted his position and resumed his assault. Each time an arrow split the air, another warrior fell, leaving the tribe reeling in horror.


    Karato froze momentarily as he processed the carnage. Even at full strength, his spear couldn''t reach the dragon above. "How can we possibly counter this?" he thought in despair.


    Before he could fall deeper into hopelessness, a protective barrier shimmered to life in front of him, shattering Michael''s next arrow aimed at his right eye. Karato turned to see Kalina, the tribe''s shaman, stepping forward.


    "Get a grip, Karato! With Commander Sakar gone, you''re the next in command," she snapped.


    Karato shook himself awake. Kalina, her braided blood-red hair gleaming, clutched her staff adorned with beads and fixed him with a stern glare.


    "Apologies, Kalina. I lost my focus again," Karato admitted.


    "If you''ve come to your senses, then cover me. I''ll drag him down from the sky," Kalina ordered.


    Karato rallied the nearby warriors, forming a defensive ring around her. Kalina began chanting, her eyes rolling back as she swung her staff. A crimson energy radiated from its tip, distorting the air around them.


    Michael, noticing her movements, loosed another arrow toward her, but the surrounding warriors intercepted it, sacrificing themselves to buy her time.


    As Kalina completed her spell, her staff pierced the air. Michael and Marcus suddenly felt an intense force pulling them downward.


    "Michael, something''s wrong! It feels like something is dragging us from below," Marcus said, his wings struggling to stay aloft.


    Michael glanced down to assess the situation and saw Kalina, her face strained with effort, channeling her spell.


    "Gravity magic¡­" he realized.


    The shamans of the Pamir Empire were notorious for their unique bloodline-based spells, and this one was no exception. Thankfully, the magic seemed to target only him and Marcus.


    As Marcus''s wing beats faltered further, Miaomiao revealed herself, breaking her stealth. The small beast darted toward Kalina like a streak of lightning.


    Kalina raised her staff in a desperate attempt to defend herself, but Miaomiao was already upon her, claws flashing.


    "How dare you threaten Michael and my brother?" Miaomiao hissed.


    With the shaman''s head severed, the invisible force binding Michael and Marcus dissipated instantly. Michael lifted his bow again, now as light as a feather. The oppressive weight that had pressed into his very bones vanished entirely.


    "Shamans will need more caution in the future," Michael thought.


    His armor, taken from an underground temple, had been tested for its durability against magic and explosives. While it easily deflected most magic and survived close-range explosions, shamanic magic was a completely unexpected challenge. Whether it operated on principles different from conventional magic or was simply too powerful for the armor to withstand remained a mystery.


    "Thanks, Miaomiao!" Michael called out. "Next time we encounter a shaman, capture them if you can. We need to study their power."


    "Even now, you''re talking about research? Fine, understood!" Miaomiao replied, her voice brimming with exasperation.


    Having dispatched the shaman, Miaomiao was now targeting the strongest enemies, cutting them down one by one. Each swing of her claws left transformed warriors of the Rock Bear Tribe collapsing in bloody heaps. Even fully transformed warriors, whose thick hides were legendary, fell swiftly under her attacks. She was like a black storm tearing through the battlefield.


    Michael, meanwhile, continued his assault. The Rock Bear Tribe''s reputation for their ability to borrow spirit powers intrigued him. This battle presented an excellent opportunity to test his arrows against the defense of one of the Five Great Tribes, renowned for their unparalleled resilience.

 Chapter 154 Consecutive Victories

    He aimed first at the thick torsos of his foes. Though his arrows struck true, the warriors merely paused before charging with renewed fury, seemingly strengthened by their rage.


    Dismounting from Marcus''s back, Michael dodged their attacks with agile movements, using the chaos to experiment further. From above, Marcus provided cover, protecting him from any flanking assaults. Taking advantage of an opening, Michael imbued his arrow with aura and fired, piercing a warrior''s thick hide and striking their heart.


    However, this technique was draining. It worked well for eliminating commanders but wasn''t practical in the heat of battle. Michael quickly adjusted his approach, targeting weak points like eyes, mouths, and ears. Every strike was deadly.


    After eliminating the most formidable opponents, Michael signaled Marcus.


    Marcus gave a sharp nod and lashed his tail in wide, sweeping motions, resembling a windmill. Recognizing the signal, the soldiers surged forward in unison.


    "Target their eyes, mouths, and ears!" Michael shouted. "Aim for any part still in human form¡ªthose are the weak spots!"


    A brutal melee ensued. The formation, composed entirely of knights, struck with overwhelming force. Each beast carried three to five knights, with those in the front wearing heavy armor and wielding shields. Behind them, knights with long spears mercilessly impaled their foes. The selection of knights capable of generating aura at the spear tips paid off as they broke through enemy lines with precision.


    The warriors who had fully transformed into bears had already been killed, leaving the hybrid form warriors to be trampled by beasts and skewered by spears.


    The enemy numbers dwindled rapidly, but the task force suffered casualties as well. The Rock Bear warriors, despite being outmatched, fought fiercely, and their strength took a toll on Michael''s forces.


    Watching the battle from a distance, Karato cursed the heavens. Since the death of Kalina, the tribe''s shaman and his cousin, their forces had been slaughtered relentlessly. With the strongest warriors gone, reassembling the frontlines was nearly impossible.


    Karato clenched his teeth in frustration, despairing as the battle slipped further out of his control. His warriors were being pushed back, their morale visibly waning. Unable to bear it any longer, he shouted, "Form groups of ten and attack together! I''ll circle around to the rear and lead a charge. Isaac, follow me with the first battalion!"


    Though it seemed like a desperate counterattack, it was a ploy to buy time for an escape.


    Michael, perceiving Karato''s intent, smirked. The last remaining commander was resorting to such a cowardly tactic.


    "Rock Bear Tribe commander is fleeing!" Michael shouted, his voice carrying across the battlefield.


    Startled, the Rock Bear warriors turned to see Karato, now in human form, astride a direwolf and fleeing the battlefield. A group of followers, mostly his kin, trailed behind him.


    In the midst of this chaos, Michael loosed an arrow that struck the Rock Bear banner, sending it tumbling to the ground. The already fragile morale of the tribe shattered completely.


    Those with enough strength followed Karato''s lead and fled in panic. Those who remained, disoriented and without direction, became easy prey for the Special Task Force.


    The Elonia Kingdom soldiers stood out with their ferocity, their hatred for the invaders and their desire for glory fueling their relentless attacks.


    Fleeing in the middle of battle was fatal. The Rock Bear warriors were cut down by spears and arrows as they fled, reduced to living targets.


    "Let''s go after him, Miaomiao, Marcus," Michael said, focusing on Karato. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The gap between them closed swiftly. Miaomiao intercepted Karato, blocking his path with a leisurely yet menacing air. Licking her paws, her silver white claws gleamed ominously under the dark sky.


    Behind her, Michael aimed his bow from atop Marcus. With all escape routes cut off, Karato had no choice but to surrender. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but survival was all that mattered now.


    Raising his hands in defeat, Karato ordered his followers to drop to the ground. Michael''s voice rang out across the battlefield.


    "Rock Bear Tribe, hear me! Your commander has surrendered. I repeat your commander has surrendered! Resistance is futile. Kneel and submit now or die!"


    The sound of his voice carried over the field, reaching every corner. Those still fighting paused to assess the situation. Realizing the battle was lost, many began shedding their transformations and prostrating themselves on the ground.


    A few hesitant warriors glanced around, searching for a way out, but it was too late. There was no escape. Michael''s forces were closing in, tightening the noose.


    Seeing the hopelessness of their plight, even the most defiant eventually dropped to their knees. The famed valor of the Rock Bear Tribe was nowhere to be found¡ªthey were utterly broken.


    If the Rock Bear warriors had responded with a coordinated counterattack rather than succumbing to chaos as their commanders fell, the outcome might have been different. However, they failed to regroup, and more than half their forces were wiped out in the ensuing carnage.


    Even the remaining warriors, tense and fearful of unseen arrows, found themselves too disoriented to fight effectively, retreating in panic. Karato, who had promised to launch a rear attack, was instead seen fleeing with his kin, shattering any remaining morale.


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    When the last remnants of resistance faltered, Karato was dragged back into the fray, dangling helplessly from Miaomiao''s jaws. His face was etched with despair and resignation.


    "Karato..." one warrior muttered under his breath, still in his transformed state. The voice carried no hope, only desolation.


    After that single word, the warriors relinquished their forms, kneeling in surrender. The series of blows¡ªthe loss of their strongest fighters, the death of their shaman, the onslaught of Michael''s beasts, and the betrayal and capture of their leader¡ªhad left them broken.


    Karato, bound and thrown to the ground in humiliation, was consumed by bitterness. He regretted not choosing to die fighting alongside his warriors. Instead, he had trusted his uncle''s plan to bring only a small elite force to support the supply unit.

 Chapter 155 Direwolf-Mounted Knights

    "If only we had brought the full might of the Rock Bear Tribe''s elite warriors, we wouldn''t have fallen so easily," Karato thought bitterly.


    His mind turned to Kalina. She had been reluctant to join the battle, citing her inexperience as a novice shaman. Karato had insisted, convincing her to come along to gain experience. Now she was dead, and the weight of that decision pressed heavily on him.


    As he hung limply from Miaomiao''s jaws, his despair gave way to a simmering fury. "Kalina was the granddaughter of the Grand Shaman! When they learn of her death, you won''t escape retribution," he spat.


    Michael snorted. "I see no reason to fear threats from someone who isn''t even here," he replied coolly.


    Turning to his soldiers, Michael''s tone softened slightly. "Well done, everyone. Secure the prisoners and begin the roll call."


    The battlefield grew quiet. The earlier elation of survival was tempered by the sobering task of accounting for the fallen.


    The captured warriors shuddered under the cold stares of Michael''s troops, some even weeping as they were herded together. The soldiers methodically subdued and restrained the prisoners, binding their limbs tightly to prevent any transformations and gagging them before lining them up.


    When the roll call was completed, the report came in: 12 dead, 35 wounded. Michael closed his eyes briefly, the toll weighing on him. While the casualties were remarkably low considering the scale of their victory, the memory of missions where all his soldiers returned alive made the losses harder to bear.


    He opened his eyes and turned his gaze to the captured Rock Bear warriors¡ª200 in total. This was no minor skirmish. Unlike previous opponents from obscure tribes, the Rock Bear Tribe was one of the Five Great Tribes. Capturing their warriors would have significant political and strategic implications.


    Though the secretive nature of the Special Task Force meant the victory couldn''t be announced immediately, Michael could already imagine the scene when the prisoners were paraded before the allied forces of La-Elonia. Their morale would soar to unprecedented heights, while the prestige of the Pamir Empire would plummet.


    Michael also anticipated lucrative ransom payments. The Five Great Tribes, with their strict adherence to bloodline purity, would spare no expense to reclaim their kin.


    As he paced among the captives, the sticky sound of blood-soaked earth clinging to his boots filled the silence. Each step reinforced the reality of their victory. The Rock Bear warriors, once proud and fierce, now sat with heads bowed in defeat, their eyes reflecting fear and submission.


    Looking around, Michael saw his troops beginning to shake off the fatigue and sorrow of battle. Their spirits lifted as they celebrated their hard-earned triumph.


    The spoils of war were considerable. Beyond the prisoners and their equipment, over 100 direwolves had been captured. These majestic creatures, prized even among beasts, were undoubtedly the greatest prize of the battle.


    The direwolves, initially snarling and baring their teeth, had quickly become docile upon encountering Miaomiao and Marcus. The sight of these once-ferocious animals lying on their backs and wagging their tails brought an unexpected lightness to the grim aftermath.


    Some soldiers, particularly those without personal mounts, approached the direwolves with eagerness, seeking to form bonds with them. For soldiers from Michael''s contingent, who lacked the wealth or status to possess their own beasts, this was an unparalleled opportunity.


    Michael observed with a faint smile as his soldiers approached him, their eyes filled with hope. He nodded his approval, and a cheer erupted among the ranks.


    The knights wasted no time selecting their direwolves, forging bonds with their chosen mounts. For those whose wolves still recognized their former owners, the contracts had to be severed before new ones could be formed. Miaomiao, ever opportunistic, facilitated the contracts in exchange for additional gold.


    "This makes you mine now," one soldier whispered to a pure white direwolf as he gently stroked its head. The wolf, unable to speak but clearly understanding the sentiment, nodded slightly.


    Watching the scene unfold, Michael''s smile grew. The thought of a knightly force mounted on direwolves filled him with pride. This victory not only solidified his leadership but also promised to elevate his family''s standing.


    The prospect of commanding a direwolf-mounted knight battalion made his chest swell with anticipation.


    By the time the battlefield was cleared and the contracts with the direwolves completed, it was late into the night. The light drizzle had turned into a steady downpour, soaking the ground and everyone on it. Around the camp, Michael noted the exhaustion on the faces of his troops. Moving under cover of night seemed unwise; rest was necessary before they resumed their march at dawn.


    Having made his decision, Michael approached Sir Kevin and Louis.


    "We''ll rest here tonight. Meeting enemies while we''re this fatigued would be disastrous," he said.


    Sir Kevin nodded, shaking the rain from his damp hair.


    "That would be wise, Captain. Traveling in this state isn''t feasible." S§×arch* The N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It was the first time Sir Kevin had addressed Michael as "Captain," a sign that he had earned Kevin''s genuine respect through his leadership and strength.


    "The rain won''t let up anytime soon," Michael continued. "Set up tents and light campfires in groups of ten. Use portable sleeping bags."


    The soldiers quickly followed his orders. Fires sprang to life across the camp, providing warmth and a place to dry equipment. Some began preparing a simple meal of soup made with jerky and ground grains. Others stripped off wet gear and hung it near the fires to dry.


    In the first tent erected, healers were already tending to the wounded. Thanks to the noble heritage of most of the troops, two skilled healers had been brought along for the mission.


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    After ensuring that his troops were settled, Michael walked toward where the prisoners were held. The rain soaked his boots, creating squelching noises with every step as he trudged through the mud.


    He arrived to find a wall of flame encircling the area, courtesy of Marcus. The fire burned like a living barrier, its intense heat making it difficult to approach. Michael could see the beasts lounging within the fiery circle, basking in the warmth. The rain evaporated before it even touched the ground, shrouding the area in a thick mist.

 Chapter 156 Brilliant Victory

    The prisoners were bound in the center of this fiery enclosure. Even if they managed to loosen their bonds and escape, they would never make it past the flames. The realization of their captivity had broken their will, and they sat with heads bowed, utterly dejected.


    Michael glanced at Marcus and Miaomiao, who were huddled together in sleep. Their peaceful forms brought a small smile to his face.


    As the night deepened, the rain intensified. The downpour washed away much of the lingering scent of blood, cleansing the air. Michael ordered his soldiers to maintain a watch rotation and tend the fires. Fatigue was no excuse to lower their guard.


    Taking the lead, Michael volunteered for the first watch. The soldiers protested.


    "Captain, there''s no need for this. You''ve worked harder than anyone. Please rest," one said.


    But Michael shook his head firmly.


    "Everyone is tired. As your leader, I must set an example for you to follow," he replied.


    Reluctantly, the soldiers acquiesced. Michael sat near a fire, listening to the crackle of flames and the patter of rain. The sounds blended into the quiet serenity of the plain, and his thoughts wandered to the state of the front lines.


    Eventually, his watch ended, and the next soldier approached.


    "Captain, it''s my turn now. Please, get some rest," the soldier said.


    Michael handed over the fire poker and rose.


    "Keep a close eye on things, and report any disturbances immediately," he instructed before lying down.


    Though the ground was hard and the air cold, his exhaustion quickly pulled him into a deep sleep.


    Early the next morning...


    Michael awoke to the chill of morning rain on his face. He splashed the cold water over his cheeks, letting it wash away the last vestiges of sleep and fatigue. Nearby, the soldier on watch yawned as he poked the dying embers of a campfire.


    The once-blazing fire had dwindled to faint warmth, barely holding on. Stretching out his stiff limbs, Michael approached Marcus, who was still dozing.


    "Marcus, I need your help," Michael said.


    Marcus blinked awake, yawning widely before looking at Michael.


    "What is it? Why so early?"


    Michael''s gaze drifted to the battlefield, now quiet but still bearing the scars of the fierce fight.


    "Can you dig a large pit over there? Find a boulder to place over it when you''re done."


    Marcus tilted his head in confusion.


    "Why bother with that? Can''t this wait? I could use more sleep," he grumbled. sea??h th§× ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael placed a hand on Marcus''s crimson-scaled flank and spoke softly. Continue your journey at My Virtual Library Empire


    "We need to bury the fallen Rock Bear warriors. In exchange, you can keep whatever treasures we find on their bodies."


    Marcus''s eyes lit up at the mention of treasure. Nothing motivated him more. Stretching his wings, he rose quickly, stomping the ground as he cleared the fiery barrier to create a path.


    The task didn''t take long. The rain-soaked earth was soft, yielding easily to Marcus''s claws. As he worked, Michael roused his troops. The commotion also woke the prisoners, who huddled together nervously, watching the activity with wary eyes.


    Once the pit was dug, Marcus rolled a large boulder to its edge. Michael directed his soldiers to move the stripped bodies of the fallen Rock Bear warriors into the grave. All usable equipment had already been removed.


    When the last body was laid to rest, they covered the pit with earth and placed the boulder atop it. The prisoners observed the burial from a distance, their expressions a mix of resignation, sorrow, and faint relief. Some closed their eyes and muttered prayers, paying quiet respects to the dead.


    Addressing the prisoners, Michael spoke with authority.


    "Those who fall in battle deserve respect as warriors. I''ve given them that respect. As prisoners, I expect you to do the same by following us without resistance. Understood?"


    Karato hesitated, but eventually nodded. The other prisoners, subdued and somber, bowed their heads in agreement.


    Leaving the now-docile captives, Michael turned to the tent housing the wounded. Inside, the bodies of their fallen comrades lay respectfully prepared. Michael wiped the blood from each with care, placing them in leather pouches sprinkled with preservatives. Though it wasn''t a perfect method, it would suffice to keep the bodies intact for a few days.


    As Michael completed the solemn task of preparing the fallen comrades for preservation, a quiet crowd of soldiers gathered around him. None spoke, their eyes fixed on their captain. Michael raised his head to meet their somber gazes, his expression heavy with the weight of loss.


    In a low, steady voice, he began a prayer:


    "To those who rest here, rejoice with all your heart. Death is a sanctuary, a promised holiness. Do not mourn its end; your vengeance will be mine to bear. If not me, who else shall stain their hands with blood? Peace comes through vengeance, and death brings rest."


    When Michael''s prayer ended, all those present closed their eyes in silent tribute. Tears mingled with the rain as they streamed down the soldiers'' faces. For this moment, all thoughts of victory and survival were set aside; it was time to honor their fallen comrades.


    "The Special Task Force achieved a brilliant victory during this campaign," Count Charles announced, his voice resonating through the chamber. "They annihilated nearly 10,000 enemies, captured 200 warriors from the Rock Bear Tribe¡ªone of the Five Great Tribes¡ªand formed contracts with 105 direwolves. Let''s not forget the food supplies they seized, which otherwise would have gone to the enemy."


    Excitement and pride filled Charles''s voice, and the room mirrored his sentiment. The news of Michael and the Special Task Force''s return to the fortress with such spoils had electrified the kingdom. Soldiers cheered as the bound warriors of the Rock Bear Tribe were paraded into the city. Cries of praise for Michael and his troops echoed endlessly.


    The previously somber atmosphere, burdened by the news of the Pamir Empire''s Five Great Tribes joining the war, was suddenly transformed. Riding the wave of this victory, Charles pressed on.

 Chapter 157 Blood Debt

    "No record in history tells of 300 soldiers defeating 10,000. We must publicize this triumph!" he declared.


    Other nobles quickly voiced their agreement. The Count of Demonic from the Kingdom of Elonia nodded.


    "Without a doubt! This is a monumental achievement, especially after the string of defeats we''ve endured."


    The Duke of Capone from the Kingdom of Lania offered a small smile.


    "Indeed, this victory is especially reassuring. It marks our first major success through an aggressive strategy, making it even more significant."


    "Three hundred against ten thousand¡ªthis is nothing short of a miracle!" one noble exclaimed.


    "All thanks to Sir Michael! Young as he is, every battle he has fought in has ended in resounding success. A true rising star¡ªa new hero for our time!"


    As the nobles heaped praise upon Michael, Dominic, his father, quietly smiled. Pride radiated from his face. The inclusion of prominent nobles'' offspring in the Special Task Force had proven a wise decision, as their families now worked tirelessly to elevate Michael''s accomplishments.


    "How about calling this victory the Battle of Elandor?" suggested one noble. "After the plains where the Special Task Force fought so valiantly."


    The proposal was met with unanimous approval. Both the Elonian Kingdom, eager for a morale boost after repeated losses, and the Kingdom of Lania, hungry for their allies'' success, celebrated this monumental achievement.


    For political reasons, the fame of Michael and the Special Task Force grew rapidly. Michael, in particular, became the center of attention, hailed as the hero of a new era. Every battle he fought resulted in complete victory, earning him titles such as "Star of a New Age," "Child of Fortune," and "The New Hero."


    Yet amidst the joy, Crown Prince Randolph couldn''t conceal his displeasure. His lack of involvement in forming the Special Task Force gnawed at his pride.


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    In the Rock Bear Tribe''s Encampment...


    Inside a tent adorned with the Rock Bear Tribe''s banner, an elderly woman clutched a shattered branch in trembling hands. This branch, once imbued with her granddaughter Kalina''s life force, lay broken. Its state left no doubt: Kalina was dead. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Who..." the old woman muttered, her voice shaking with grief. "Who killed my Kalina?"


    Images of her granddaughter''s bright smile from days ago, as she prepared to join the supply unit''s mission, filled her mind. "I should have stopped her," she thought bitterly, tears streaming down her deeply lined face. The sorrow and regret weighed on her like a stone in her chest.


    Clenching her teeth, the woman wiped her tears and steadied herself. With her staff in hand, she left the tent and headed to the chieftain''s quarters.


    "Ah, High Priestess Babaru, what brings you here?" the chieftain, Yandor, asked, startled by her appearance. Babaru had been vehemently opposed to the tribe''s participation in the war and had remained confined to her tent since their departure.


    Babaru''s gaze burned with anger and grief.


    "My granddaughter is dead," she declared. "She left to support Sakar''s unit, but the branch tied to her life force has shattered. She''s gone."


    Yandor shot to his feet, his expression grim. Sakar, his brother, had led that unit, which also included his youngest son, Karato.


    "Are you certain? What could have happened?" Yandor''s voice trembled. Memories of Sakar''s confident assurances came rushing back.


    For Kalina, a shaman and priority for protection, to have perished, it was unlikely that Sakar and Karato had survived either.


    Babaru, consumed by fury, shouted, "Do you think I would jest about this? Kalina was all I had left! You know I lost my children and their spouses to this war. Now my granddaughter too... Find out who killed her! I will tear them apart myself!"


    Yandor sighed heavily.


    "It was supposed to be a simple support mission for the supply unit... I''ll investigate and send our elite warriors for vengeance if needed."


    "No!" Babaru cried, her rage boiling over. "Just tell me who killed her! I''ll take care of the rest myself. I''ll even offer my body to the gods for vengeance!"


    She clutched a sacred artifact passed down through generations of the Rock Bear Tribe¡ªa relic of their goddess. As the tribe''s high priestess, Babaru knew the dangers of invoking divine power. But what did her life matter now?


    Her eyes burned with resolve. Even if it cost her life, she would repay this blood debt.


    The astounding achievements of Michael and the Special Task Force quickly spread across the continent. The unbelievable tale of 300 soldiers annihilating 10,000 enemies while suffering only 12 casualties shocked everyone. Interest in Michael soared further when it was revealed that their victory included the capture of 200 warriors from the Rock Bear Tribe, one of the Five Great Tribes.


    Though the Special Task Force had intended to continue their covert operations, their success was too monumental to remain under wraps. The people, weary from repeated defeats, needed a beacon of hope, and Michael''s triumph became the centerpiece of a widespread propaganda campaign.


    Elonia Kingdom, Royal Palace


    King Henry III sat in council with his ministers, deliberating on how to reward Michael and the Special Task Force. It had already been publicly announced that rewards would be granted without discrimination of origin, including titles and land grants.


    "Everyone," Henry began, "what are your thoughts on how we should proceed with these rewards?"


    The precarious state of the war made it unwise to grant overly generous rewards. However, if the rewards were insufficient, who would be motivated to contribute to the war effort?


    Mark, the chancellor and a longtime confidant of Henry, smiled knowingly. "Your Majesty, many of the nobles here have sent their kin to the Special Task Force. Who among us would dare discuss rewards for our own blood? Perhaps we should first address the compensation for the Lania Kingdom''s participants."


    Henry''s eyes swept over the gathered nobles, understanding the chancellor''s subtle hint.


    "Do not worry about fairness," he declared. "It is only right to reward meritorious service appropriately. I trust you all to handle this matter impartially."


    The mention of "impartiality" elicited a subtle reaction from the council. The seasoned politicians understood the weight of that word, knowing it was both a command and a warning.

 Chapter 158 The Familys Decision

    One noble, whose second son served in the Special Task Force, spoke gently. sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "We are willing to defer rewards for our own men. Given the uncertain outcome of the war, it may be better to finalize their compensation afterward. Their contributions will be recorded regardless. However, those who voluntarily joined from the Lania Kingdom should receive fitting rewards to encourage their continued support."


    Henry''s dilemma was clear. What was the point of rewards when the war was far from over? Lands left unclaimed or ravaged by the Empire''s forces were not practical grants. Nobles who sent their second sons to the Task Force did so with the expectation of securing proper fiefs post-war.


    In contrast, compensating the participants from Lania was more straightforward. Narrowing his eyes, Henry posed a direct question.


    "Are there any among the Lania participants who wish to remain in our kingdom?"


    The intent behind his words was unmistakable. If any were willing to pledge loyalty to Elonia, substantial rewards could be justified. The prospect of incorporating elite knights from Lania into Elonia''s ranks was highly appealing.


    Mark hesitated before replying, his expression strained. "Your Majesty, discreet inquiries were made through nobles stationed at the fortress. However, their loyalty to their homeland runs deep. None expressed interest in remaining here, even with the promise of land."


    Henry frowned. "If they don''t wish to stay, so be it. We''ll defer rewards for our own loyalists until the war''s conclusion and grant rewards to the Lania participants first. Michael shall be awarded the most fertile lands of the Elandor Plains and elevated to Count of Elandor. Handle the rest as you see fit."


    The declaration drew murmurs of approval and subtle glances among the ministers. The lands of the Elandor Plains sounded impressive, but their actual value was contingent on securing victory in the war.


    Mark cautiously inquired, "And what of other rewards, Your Majesty?"


    Henry coughed, adjusting his tone. "Allocate 300,000 gold from the treasury, with 100,000 to Michael personally. Distribute the rest among the others as deemed appropriate."


    Elonia was rich in gold but had failed to channel its wealth into the military, a failure Henry now lamented. Shaking off his thoughts, he added, "Send an appropriate gift to Crown Prince Randolph as well. His recommendation of Michael warrants recognition."


    As Henry exchanged a meaningful look with Mark and exited the council chamber, the nobles began animated discussions about dividing land and titles among the Lania participants.


    "What about parceling the northern wetlands of the Elandor Plains?" one minister suggested.


    Though the land was currently barren, its potential for development made it a plausible reward. It was also a safe option for offering minimal actual value.


    Another minister scoffed. "Those wetlands flood whenever it rains. Even as a symbolic gesture, it''s not fitting. We should consider the western borderlands instead."


    The western lands, adjoining the Drago Mountain Range, were notorious for frequent monster attacks and poor soil quality. Yet, they were closer to Lania and boasted unique resources, making them appear more valuable on the surface.


    "Those lands change hands constantly due to the monster incursions," someone remarked.


    The ministers exchanged knowing smiles.


    "Exactly," one said. "That makes them perfect. They''ll likely revert to us in the future anyway."


    Here''s the translated and restructured passage in the third-person narrative style:


    "For the next 50 years, the land will belong to them only if they can defend it successfully. With the size of the tracts, each recipient would hold at least a barony. Such conditions shouldn''t seem unreasonable."


    Some ministers found the terms harsh, but they couldn''t argue against the majority''s decision.


    "They''re capable individuals," one minister reassured. "They''ll manage."


    With the distribution of land settled, the council quickly moved on to assigning titles and dividing the gold within the predetermined budget. The discussions concluded swiftly. Though the rewards might seem modest considering the Special Task Force''s achievements, favoritism toward Elonia''s own nobles was inevitable.


    In Lania Kingdom...


    Unlike the drawn-out deliberations in Elonia, Lania''s rewards were swiftly finalized.


    "The Crassus family shall be elevated to the rank of count, and the barony held by Michael von Crassus will henceforth be inherited by the family''s successors. Additionally, the entirety of the Drago Mountain Range near the Crassus estate shall be included in their domain. Material rewards will be provided once the war concludes. These decrees take effect immediately," declared Charles V, King of Lania.


    By further elevating the Crassus family, Charles V demonstrated his satisfaction with Michael''s achievements. The addition of the entire Drago Mountain Range to the family''s domain was a significant enhancement. Previously, the Crassus territory extended only to the lake near their estate.


    With the mountain range under their control, the Crassus family would collect taxes from those hunting beasts or gathering herbs in the area. This alone would surpass the income of many countships, making it a substantial reward.


    After finalizing Michael''s reward, Charles V turned to the rest of the court.


    "Other members of the Special Task Force shall receive rewards based on their contributions, divided into three tiers. The chancellor will oversee the criteria and distribution."


    As soon as the king finished speaking, Chancellor Lant stepped forward.


    "Your Majesty, while Sir Michael deserves recognition, his accomplishments were only possible thanks to the Crown Prince''s keen judgment in assigning him the mission. Shouldn''t the prince also be rewarded?"


    Charles V''s expression brightened as he chuckled.


    "Haha, the boy will inherit the kingdom one day. Seeking talent is a prince''s duty, isn''t it?"


    Not wanting to miss another opportunity, the prime minister stood abruptly.


    "Your Majesty, while that may be true privately, officially, he is Crown Prince of Lania. If he has contributed, he too should be rewarded appropriately."


    Charles V''s smile grew broader, his hand stroking his beard more vigorously.


    "Indeed. Without the Crown Prince''s foresight, Sir Michael''s talents might have remained buried. Perhaps the greatest credit belongs to the prince," added the treasurer, his sycophantic tone drawing a slight frown from the king.


    "That man is too transparent," thought Charles V. While he loved his son dearly, he was also a shrewd ruler.


    "Enough," Charles V said, raising his scepter and striking it twice against the floor. After a moment''s thought, he continued, "The Crown Prince shall also be rewarded. Bestow upon him the royal family''s ancestral pearl set."

 Chapter 159 Ancestral Land

    The treasurer looked puzzled for a moment, wondering why women''s jewelry was chosen. Chancellor Lant leaned over to whisper, "The prince has sought permission to marry Princess Elise of Elonia. The king opposed it before but seems inclined to agree now, given his recent achievements. Elonia''s renewed hope makes it timely."


    Realization dawned on the treasurer, his expression darkening. A royal marriage! The wedding, likely to follow the war''s conclusion, would undoubtedly drain the treasury.


    Michael stood outside his father Dominic''s quarters, summoned unexpectedly. Strangely, there were no guards or attendants at the door.


    "I should have brought Miaomiao," Michael thought, gripping his sword hilt. If trouble arose, the shadowy presence of Isperman might not be enough.


    Just as he prepared to draw his blade, the door opened, and Dominic stepped out.


    "You''re here. Come in," he said warmly. "I sent the guards and attendants away. I wanted to speak with you privately tonight."


    Michael sighed in relief and followed Dominic inside. The room was warm, the crackling fireplace casting a cozy glow. It wasn''t particularly cold, and Michael noted the unusual gesture.


    Catching his son''s glance toward the fire, Dominic raised his wrist with a smile.


    "Ah, an old wound from the previous war. My wrist and chest ache terribly at night, and I occasionally cough. The healers can''t help, but keeping warm eases the pain."


    Michael thought of the grueling marches they had endured the previous winter. His father had never complained.


    Pouring wine into two glasses, Dominic''s face carried a mix of emotions¡ªregret, pride, and joy.


    "This is the first time we''re sharing a drink together," Dominic said.


    "Then let''s make it a regular thing," Michael replied with a small smile.


    "We should," Dominic agreed. "I''ve been neglectful, haven''t I?"


    Michael bowed his head, unsure how to respond. The father he remembered was a quintessential medieval knight¡ªplacing duty to the family above personal bonds. How could he respond to such a man?


    Dominic''s thoughts mirrored Michael''s in many ways. As a father, he had tried to lead by example, living by strict discipline and responsibility. Perhaps too much, he realized now.


    "I know I haven''t always been the father you deserved," Dominic said softly, his voice heavy with emotion. "But I did my best."


    "I understand," Michael replied. "You''ve always done what you believed was right. I respect that."


    For a moment, Dominic''s eyes grew misty as he looked at his son, so much like himself. Turning away, he walked to the window, gazing at the fiery sunset.


    "I''ve made my decision," Dominic said at last. "For the sake of our family, I will retire. From this moment on, the head of the Crassus family is you, Michael."


    "A family head? Does this mean your health has worsened?" Michael asked, startled by the unexpected announcement. His gaze bore into Dominic, searching for answers.


    Dominic smiled gently, as though soothing his son''s concerns. "No, it''s not that. I''m stepping down to focus the family''s power on you. With your recent accomplishments, the kingdom will undoubtedly elevate our title. When that happens..."


    He paused, meeting Michael''s eyes. "It would mean little if I remained the head of the family. But if you, as the head, receive the promotion, it changes everything. There''s a distinct difference between a future count leading the charge and a count already holding that title."


    Understanding dawned on Michael, and his eyes gleamed with realization.


    "That makes sense," he replied. "But I''ve never been formally trained as a successor."


    Being a family head came with tremendous responsibility¡ªnot only for the legal and administrative duties but also for safeguarding the family''s legacy and the futures of its retainers. Michael would need to lead daily meetings, oversee decisions, and take ultimate accountability.


    Dominic chuckled, sensing his son''s apprehension. "Don''t worry about that. I''ll continue handling the day-to-day matters alongside the retainers, just as I do now. Your focus will remain on the battlefield."


    His confidence in Michael was evident in his gaze, a mix of pride, faith, and even reverence. Dominic''s unwavering belief in his son''s abilities had been shaped by Michael''s remarkable accomplishments. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Feeling the weight of his father''s trust, Michael managed a sheepish smile. "In that case, I''ll accept."


    Dominic''s face lit up with a broad smile at his son''s agreement. He began sharing a piece of family history Michael had never learned.


    "You weren''t trained as a successor, so you may not know this, but our family descends from an ancient kingdom."


    Michael, already aware of his royal lineage through the artifacts of Ariadne, listened intently. While he knew of his royal blood, the details of how a former royal house had become mere vassals were a mystery to him.


    "It''s a long-forgotten tale known only to the family head and their successor," Dominic continued. "Our lineage nearly ended, and our ancestral lands have long been lost. But the truth remains¡ªwe carry royal blood."


    Taking a sip of wine, Dominic resumed.


    "According to continental law, even if a kingdom falls, a royal descendant can reclaim ownership of their lands if they liberate them. Of course, that''s nothing more than a dream now."


    His eyes drifted to the distant horizon as though envisioning the grandeur of their ancestors.


    "After the kingdom''s collapse, surviving royals sought refuge with loyal retainers. Our ancestor changed their name and pledged themselves to a count in Lania. Initially welcomed as guests, they eventually became retainers themselves."


    Dominic paused, watching Michael closely. His gaze held both regret for lost glory and hope that his son might forge a new path. Restraining himself to avoid burdening Michael, he added in a lighter tone, "But don''t worry, I''m not asking you to rebuild a kingdom or anything absurd like that. Relax. You''re not planning to claim the throne, are you?"


    Michael laughed, knowing full well that any ambitions he harbored were not ready to surface. Dominic, sensing his son''s restraint, smiled warmly.


    "I''m telling you this so you understand the last request of our ancestors," Dominic explained. "Though they fled with nothing, they left behind one wish: ''If the opportunity arises, reclaim the old lands.'' Pass this along to your own heir one day."


    Dominic placed a firm hand on Michael''s shoulder, and the two exchanged a smile. No further words were needed to convey the depth of their understanding.


    With Michael''s agreement, the process moved swiftly. By the next day, after relaying the Crassus family''s decision through Duke Capone, an official decree bearing the Crown Prince''s seal arrived. Michael was now the head of the Crassus family.

 Chapter 160 Count of Crassus

    As Randolph, the Crown Prince, signed the decree, he couldn''t conceal his irritation. The lingering resentment over Michael''s independent formation of the Special Task Force and his subsequent glory still stung. Experience tales at My Virtual Library Empire


    "Duke Capone, why the rush in finalizing this?" Randolph asked curtly.


    The duke responded with a knowing smile, aware of the prince''s underlying frustration.


    "Sir Michael''s achievements warrant such expedience. Even His Majesty is delighted. I hear rewards will soon be bestowed in the capital."


    Capone''s smile carried a subtle rebuke. As someone entrusted by Charles V to guide the prince, Capone recognized the folly of showing continued resentment toward a rising hero like Michael.


    Randolph cleared his throat awkwardly, recalling the private letter from his father. Charles V had explicitly instructed him to win Michael''s favor and ensure he became a loyal sword to the royal family.


    Capone, sensing the moment, spoke earnestly.


    "Your Highness, I''ve mentioned this in passing before, but now I must insist¡ªMichael is no longer who he once was. He is the hero of the Battle of Elandor and, at his young age, already the head of the Crassus family."


    He paused to gauge the prince''s reaction before continuing.


    "Even Dominic is no fool. For him to relinquish his position and support Michael so fully speaks volumes. Word has it His Majesty plans to elevate the Crassus family''s title. If that happens, Michael will become a count."


    Capone sighed, adding, "This level of advancement hasn''t been seen in two centuries. It reflects His Majesty''s immense trust in Michael. Remember, Your Highness, you were the one who first recognized Michael''s talent and sponsored his rise. You must maintain a good relationship with him."


    Randolph clenched his teeth. While he disliked the persistent reminders of his missteps, he couldn''t deny the truth. Michael''s meteoric rise was undeniable, and keeping him close was essential.


    Randolph, the Crown Prince, was still young and prone to emotional outbursts. His temper flared as he stood abruptly, his cloak sweeping the air.


    "Enough! I''ve heard you, so let''s leave it at that. Do you think I''m so petty as to be jealous of my subject''s achievements? That''s not the issue!" he snapped, his voice rising. "What bothers me is that I, the Crown Prince and supreme commander of this warfront, was not consulted about the formation of such a critical unit as the Special Task Force."


    Duke Capone sighed inwardly. What nonsense is this? Who barred you from attending the meetings? Despite being urged to participate in critical discussions, the prince had neglected his duties, distracted by his pursuit of Princess Elise. Now, he seemed to regret being unable to claim credit for Michael''s achievements.


    "Your Highness," Capone said calmly, "you are the cornerstone of this kingdom. Your contributions have already been proven by recognizing Sir Michael''s potential and allowing him to serve. The more Michael succeeds, the more your reputation will shine. Please, exercise restraint."


    Randolph''s tense expression began to ease, though deep inside, a gnawing insecurity remained. He wished he truly possessed the foresight to recognize Michael''s potential, as others believed. Yet he alone knew the truth: his decision to elevate Michael had been impulsive and immature.


    To mask his unease, Randolph forced a bright smile and clapped a hand on Capone''s shoulder.


    "Very well! I won''t act so small-minded again. After all, having a young talent like Michael rise in the kingdom is a cause for celebration. Let''s drink and put this behind us!"


    Though the tension in the prince''s laughter lingered, Capone chose not to press further.


    "Wise words, Your Highness," he replied, raising his glass.


    Their goblets clinked together with a clear note, and the mood in the room gradually grew convivial once more.


    A Royal Decree S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    A royal decree arrived from the Lania Kingdom, addressed to Michael as the commander of the Special Task Force. Kneeling on one knee, Michael listened attentively to the royal envoy''s proclamation:


    "By the authority of Charles V, sovereign of the Lania Kingdom and rightful heir to its throne, the following honors are bestowed upon the Crassus family. The Crassus family is hereby elevated to the rank of Countship..."


    The decree was lengthy, filled with grandiose language, but Michael absorbed the essence. His family was granted a hereditary countship, with his father Dominic officially recognized as the acting head for procedural purposes. Additionally, the Crassus estate was expanded to include portions of the Drago Mountain Range, along with taxation and judicial rights. However, the family was now obligated to attend annual royal meetings in the capital.


    Accepting the decree, Michael rose and bowed in the direction of the capital, vowing to uphold the responsibilities bestowed upon his family.


    The rewards extended beyond Michael. Other members of the Special Task Force from Lania also received individual honors based on their contributions. By the time the ceremonies concluded, the sun had set.


    Celebrations


    A modest yet hearty banquet followed, bringing together nobles, knights, and soldiers within the fortress. Toasts were raised, and laughter filled the hall as everyone indulged in the rare reprieve. Even outside the fortress, soldiers were treated to a feast¡ªstew rich with meat, fresh bread, roasted meat, sausages, and ale.


    The penal troops, often relegated to meager rations, were astonished by the generous spread. Albert and Jean wasted no time, eagerly devouring the warm food. The hearty stew soothed their weary bodies, leaving them momentarily content.


    "We must survive to experience this again," they resolved, savoring the rare luxury.


    Even the beasts were treated to roasted livestock stuffed with fruit and seasoned with a spicy glaze.


    "They should always prepare food like this," one beast murmured.


    "Agreed! The seasoning is divine," another chimed in.


    Marcus, chewing contentedly, thought to himself, This is my everyday life! I''m so glad I chose to follow Michael.


    Noticing Marcus''s smug grin, Miaomiao shot him a disdainful glare.


    "Not hungry, are you?" Marcus teased. "I''ll take your share then¡ª"


    Before he could finish, Miaomiao smacked him on the head and protectively cradled her meal, hissing in warning.


    The lavish feast, funded entirely by the Crassus family, further cemented Michael''s growing reputation. Generosity, after all, drew admiration across cultures.

 Chapter 161 Troublesome Prince

    In the Rock Bear Tribe


    Inside the tent of the high shaman Babaru, preparations for a ritual were underway. Sitting before a mirror, she painted a third eye onto her forehead with black dye and draped herself in a bear pelt.


    As the reflection grew darker, a sinister aura filled the tent. Rising slowly, Babaru stepped outside, where her long-time companion awaited¡ªa second-tier magical beast, a siren. Its upper body was that of an exquisite maiden, while its lower body shimmered with scales. The siren spread its massive white wings.


    Though the tribe''s chieftain had attempted to conceal the identity of Kalina''s killer, Babaru had her own sources. The Lania Kingdom''s fledgling hero, Michael, was responsible.


    Two hundred of her kin had been taken as prisoners, leaving the tribe paralyzed. Yet Babaru, long detached from her kin, felt only cold resolve. The moment she learned of Kalina''s death, her heart had frozen over.


    Mounting the siren, Babaru''s voice echoed with fury. "Let''s go! Kalina''s death will not go unanswered."


    Her eyes burned with vengeance as they soared into the night sky.


    "Ha ha! It''s refreshing to indulge for once, isn''t it, Count Michael?" Randolph, the Crown Prince, declared loudly, his voice echoing through the grand banquet hall. Reclining comfortably in the seat of honor, he swirled the wine in his goblet, his broad shoulders radiating ease.


    "All thanks to Your Highness," Michael replied politely. "The wine is exquisite."


    Michael, recently elevated to count, sat between the Crown Prince and Duke Capone. Despite his newfound fame and elevated status, he maintained a cautious demeanor.


    "Ah, this wine? Elise recommended it," Randolph said with a grin. "She''s a woman of refined taste and knows how to support a man."


    Michael suppressed a sigh. Randolph''s casual mention of Princess Elise''s name hinted at their growing familiarity. The banquet, hosted in the same opulent hall where a grand ball had once taken place, felt overly indulgent, especially given the war''s ongoing challenges.


    The dazzling chandelier hanging from the high ceiling illuminated the luxurious hall. Nobles mingled, chatting over delicacies and fine wine, their laughter mingling with the tinkling of glassware.


    The ostentatious grandeur of the Elonia fortress starkly contrasted with the memory of its ill-equipped soldiers. Michael shook his head at the thought.


    Nobles flocked to exchange greetings with Michael and the Crown Prince, eager to make an impression. Their overconfidence troubled Michael. The recent victory against the Rock Bear Tribe, one of the Five Great Tribes, had clearly emboldened the nobles of Lania.


    "It''s surprising how much the Elonians exaggerated their plight," remarked a viscount from the central regions, sipping his wine with a smirk.


    "Indeed," another noble chimed in. "While we''ve endured countless wars, Elonia seems unaccustomed to conflict. They could have avoided such humiliation if they''d invested their wealth in military strength instead of luxury."


    The group laughed, their derision filling the room. However, nobles from the northeastern provinces, more experienced with the Empire''s forces, frowned at the remarks.


    "They speak so lightly," one whispered to another. "They''ll pay for their arrogance."


    "Michael''s victory was as much a result of careful preparation as tactical brilliance," another replied. "They underestimate the Empire at their peril."


    The cautious northeastern nobles remained silent, unwilling to provoke their complacent peers. Even Randolph seemed unbothered by the reckless attitudes. Michael, too, chose not to intervene, merely observing with a faint smile.


    The limitations of feudalism, Michael thought grimly. The reckless boasting and lack of coordination underscored the challenges of managing the coalition forces. The Special Task Force''s covert operations had already been compromised by the fanfare surrounding their success.


    Despite the festive atmosphere, Michael''s unease deepened. The advancing Pamir Imperial Army was a formidable foe, one that demanded vigilance.


    "Count Michael, what are your plans for tomorrow?" Randolph asked suddenly. "I plan to ride with Princess Elise after breakfast. Would you care to join us? We could discuss current affairs during the ride."


    Most nobles would have eagerly accepted such an invitation, especially given the rumors of a potential royal engagement between Randolph and Elise. But Michael was not most nobles, and he had no interest in the prince''s romantic pursuits.


    "Forgive me, Your Highness," Michael replied, "but I have scheduled a full day of training with my soldiers." S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Oh? Then perhaps I''ll visit after my ride to observe your training," Randolph suggested, his tone bright.


    Michael''s expression tightened. The Crown Prince''s growing interest in his forces threatened to undermine his command. Noticing Michael''s discomfort, Duke Capone interjected smoothly.


    "Your Highness," the duke said, "Count Michael has recently assumed his new title. As the head of his house, he''ll need time to reorganize his forces. Perhaps a visit would be more appropriate at a later date."


    Michael offered the duke a small nod of gratitude. Capone returned the gesture with a benevolent smile. Explore more stories at My Virtual Library Empire


    "Ah, I see," Randolph said, laughing lightly. "My apologies, Count. I got ahead of myself."


    "Not at all, Your Highness," Michael replied, his tone measured. "It would be an honor to host you, but as the duke mentioned, I must first stabilize my position. I hope you''ll visit once everything is in order."


    Unaccustomed to deferring to others, Randolph simply laughed, brushing off the matter with ease. Capone, sensing the prince''s growing agitation, quickly moved to diffuse the situation further.


    "Count Michael, you seem fatigued. Perhaps you should retire early and rest," the duke suggested.


    Michael seized the opportunity, pretending to press a hand to his temple. "Thank you for your consideration, Your Grace. Your Highness, with your permission, I''ll take my leave."


    Randolph, oblivious to the undercurrents, waved him off cheerfully. "Go, go. Rest well. We''ll speak again soon."


    Bowing politely, Michael exited the hall, his mind already shifting to the challenges ahead.


    Randolph, the Crown Prince, seemed thoroughly satisfied and waved Michael off with a genial smile.


    "Of course, go and rest. It just occurred to me¡ªyou''ve been fighting relentlessly without a proper break. To think I had you kneeling to receive a decree in such a state... Ha! My apologies. I should have let you retire sooner."


    "It was an honor to speak with Your Highness," Michael replied courteously.


    "Good to hear. Let''s make time for more conversations in the future."


    Michael bowed to those gathered, then left the hall. The banquet, however, continued in full swing behind him.

 Chapter 1 - 1 The Beginning

    A hooded old man stood silently, gazing at the altar before him. The flickering candlelight illuminated the stone surface.


    Disheveled black hair swayed in his vision as he moved closer. Beside him, a white-bearded elderly man, his only friend and collaborator in this grim endeavor, exhaled anxiously.


    "This ritual offers no guarantees," the white-bearded man said, his voice trembling. "The child''s soul may not return whole. An external force might seize him instead." S§×ar?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The man in the black hood gave no reply. He continued to approach the altar, determination etched into his every step. The ritual commenced with deliberate precision. He drew the required sigils and chanted the prescribed incantations, his voice imbued with desperate hope.


    His dark eyes mirrored the flickering candlelight, full of yearning. The sigils etched upon the altar began to radiate, their intricate patterns spreading outward. Shadows seemed to deepen, and darkness coiled ominously around the markings.


    Beneath the altar, the air stirred as waves of energy pulsed outward, their intensity growing until the vibrations echoed through the void. The atmosphere grew dense with foreboding, and the white-bearded man''s unease became palpable.


    It was too late to turn back.


    Raising both hands high, the man in the black hood shouted with fervor, "Awaken!"


    Now


    The young man stood before a mirror, scrutinizing his reflection. His jet-black hair and red eyes framed a youthful face that appeared to belong to someone in their late teens. It bore similarities to his former self, yet it was undeniably different.


    He knew he had to adapt, but each glance in the mirror left him uneasy. Determined to focus, he slapped his cheeks with both hands, the sound echoing in the room. He needed clarity.


    The world he found himself in was anything but ordinary. Magic, knights, divine powers, dragons, and monstrous creatures abounded¡ªphenomena he had only encountered in fantasy novels. While life superficially resembled the Middle Ages, its essence was entirely alien.


    The civilized society where he, as an orphan, had once lived relatively peacefully, was no more. His priority now was survival. The very thought of being discovered made him shudder.


    This world, steeped in religious fervor and belief in demons, allowed no room for deviation. A single misstep could cost him his life. If anyone uncovered the truth¡ªthat he was not of this world¡ªthere would be but one outcome.


    Execution by fire.


    To avoid such a fate, he resolved to mimic the habits of his current identity while holding tightly to the memories of who he truly was. He steeled himself once more, determined to leave the past buried and focus on the present.


    His mind drifted back to the moment he first awakened in this unfamiliar body. Days ago, he had opened his eyes to find his head bloodied, his limbs contorted unnaturally.


    The excruciating pain had jolted a memory to the surface¡ªhis aircraft had crashed. He had been performing aerial maneuvers during an airshow when a mechanical failure caused the engine to fail.


    As the plane plummeted, he instinctively reached for the ejection button but hesitated, picturing the packed spectator stands. The hesitation was brief. He had no family to mourn him; as an orphan, there was no one to grieve his loss. Accepting his fate, he gripped the controls and aimed for an unpopulated area, ensuring the safety of others.


    He remembered the final moments vividly: the gray runway growing larger in his tear-filled eyes, the cacophony of alarms, and the undeniable knowledge that he wouldn''t survive.


    Yet here he was. Alive. Somehow.


    His crash had been catastrophic¡ªsurvival should have been impossible. But instead of dying, he had awakened in this body, with a world of questions and no answers.


    The people who had rushed to him upon his awakening wore strange clothing and had hair and eyes in colors that defied natural explanation. The ceiling above him was adorned with a lavish tapestry. He wasn''t in a hospital.


    The conclusion was undeniable.


    He, a 34-year-old Air Force pilot from The U.S, had somehow been transported to another world and reborn in another body.


    The enormity of it all had overwhelmed him. He had fainted, consciousness fading as unfamiliar memories began to seep into his mind.


    Were they the memories of this body''s former owner? That seemed to be the case. At the very least, it offered some solace.

 Chapter 2 - 2 The Child is Not a Bastard

    Michael, now lying still in his bed, continued to feign unconsciousness to avoid the prying eyes of those around him. He needed time. Sorting through the merging memories of his current self and the original owner of his body, he slowly came to terms with his new identity as Michael, a boy living in this unfamiliar world.


    It was no dream. It couldn''t be. Michael¡ªformerly a man named Jon in another life¡ªquickly pulled himself together. In his previous life, he had been an orphan, with no family or close relatives except the orphanage director who had given him the surname Hardy and the name Jon.


    By now, the insurance payout from his supposed death must have reached the director. Jon hoped it would be used to improve the orphanage facilities.


    Perhaps it was his name¡ª"Jon," meaning "the present"¡ªor perhaps it was his lack of lingering attachments to his former life that made it relatively easy to accept his new existence. The memories of the body''s previous owner began to surface, feeling as though they were his own.


    It was a strange experience¡ªgaining memories, habits, and even behaviors that weren''t truly his. Michael''s original owner had been a timid and calculating individual, quite the opposite of Jon, who was known for his upright, fair, and occasionally tactless personality. The combination of the two was creating a peculiar mix, though Michael himself was unaware of the changes taking shape within him.


    "By the name of light, med¨¦l?fer!"


    A warm glow touched Michael''s forehead, soothing his body and easing his discomfort.


    "How much longer will Michael remain asleep like this, Sir Hope?" a woman with her brown hair tied up asked anxiously. Her hands clutched her apron tightly, as though wringing out her worries.


    Hope, the healer, gave a slight shake of his head. "His body has already awakened its aura. He should regain full consciousness soon. Most of his injuries have healed, but he did hit his head when he fell from the wall¡­"


    "What does that mean?" the woman pressed, her voice tinged with desperation.


    "The mind is the domain of the gods," Hope explained with a weary sigh. "There''s no telling how the aftermath will manifest."


    Listening quietly with his eyes closed, Michael felt a sense of relief. If his behavior seemed unusual after he woke up, it might be excused as part of his condition.


    "Could he stay like this forever, never waking?" the woman asked fearfully.


    "That''s unlikely. However, he''ll need a stable environment for his recovery. He might have partial memory loss, but most of it should return over time," Hope reassured her.


    The woman glanced toward the imposing figure of a silent, broad-shouldered older man standing nearby. He remained grim, his expression unwavering. Turning back to Hope, she asked again, "So, we just wait and watch over him?"


    Hope nodded. "His vital signs are stable now. Don''t be overly anxious. When he wakes, start with porridge, then give him the most nutritious food he can handle."


    Hope stroked his beard thoughtfully and turned to the towering man. "Alfred, ease that frown of yours. Lincoln will face the consequences of his actions. The lord has already decided to send him on a beast subjugation mission. After some suffering, maybe that rotten mindset of his will improve."


    However, Alfred''s expression remained unchanged. Seeing no further response, Hope coughed awkwardly and began to leave. "Well then, Clara, I''ll take my leave."


    Clara, the woman, attempted to slip a pouch into Hope''s hand, but he firmly declined. Though healing magic was expensive, Hope had treated Michael for free for several days now, despite being the only healer in the barony.


    "Ha! If you''re that insistent, treat me to some of your stew later. Not now, though¡ªwait until Michael is fully recovered," Hope said with a chuckle as he left.


    Clara, still flustered, saw him off and returned to the room. She glanced at Alfred, whose massive fists were clenched tightly, as if barely containing his anger. She spoke cautiously.


    "Father, this is too cruel for Michael. The beasts in the neighboring territory are hardly a threat, and besides, that''s Lincoln''s maternal family''s land. After what Lincoln did to Michael, this punishment feels far too lenient. Shouldn''t we protest to the lord?"


    Outside the bedroom, Michael strained to listen to their conversation. Any information he could gather was valuable.


    "Leave it to me. Don''t concern yourself with this matter," Alfred replied in a deep, commanding voice.


    Michael remembered seeing Alfred when he first regained consciousness¡ªa giant of a man over two meters tall, clad in a black tunic. He looked like a bear, with a massive frame and muscular build that seemed capable of lifting a human head with one hand. His black eyes and hair were the only features that tied him to Michael, whose delicate face bore little resemblance to the imposing elder.


    "...I understand, Father," Clara finally said, her voice wavering with resignation.


    Michael, still under the effects of the healing magic, succumbed to the drowsiness creeping over him. He needed rest to recover, and soon, sleep claimed him.


    Meanwhile, in the barony of Gregory Crassus, within the castle walls, Baron Gregory Crassus sat in his study, fingers interlaced, deep in thought. How should he resolve this situation?


    He was concerned¡ªdeeply so. He knew well the strength and persistence of the individual he was dealing with. Resolving this matter quickly was imperative.


    The baron sighed heavily, his gaze falling on his eldest son, who stood before him. With his faded blond hair and blue eyes, the young man bore a resemblance to his mother. His thin lips were pressed into a firm line, exuding stubbornness and narrow-mindedness that only fueled the baron''s irritation.


    Patience. He needed to exercise patience. His eldest son was the child of his first wife and was connected to another baronial family through his maternal grandparents. That family provided consistent support, both financially and in concern for their grandson''s well-being.


    Despite his flaws, the eldest son was still the heir to the barony. Primogeniture was an unspoken law in the kingdom, and the baron had to uphold it.


    S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 3 - 3

    Resolving to act swiftly, the baron finally spoke. "I''ll provide you with twenty soldiers. Go to your maternal family''s lands and participate in the beast subjugation there."


    Lincoln, the baron''s eldest son, glared at his father.


    This was nothing new. As the firstborn and heir to the barony, Lincoln had always resented the attention his father gave to that boy¡ªMichael.


    "Why must I leave the barony?" Lincoln demanded. "If that fool fell because of his own clumsiness, is that my fault?"


    The baron''s anger flared, his jaw tightening. "Do you hear yourself? Do you think anyone in this castle would believe such nonsense? If you''re going to act, do it properly. Everyone saw what happened, and yet you claim he just lost his footing? Do you take the world for a gathering of fools like yourself?"


    Lincoln clenched his jaw, his eyes burning with hatred. He refused to back down.


    "You will leave for your maternal family''s lands at once," the baron ordered. "Once the beast subjugation is complete, you''ll proceed to the capital. Arrangements have been made for you to find a suitable match there. Your grandfather and I have already discussed it. Now, leave."


    But Lincoln remained rooted to the spot. "If I had any talent for swordsmanship, would you still favor him over me? If that cursed brat hadn''t awakened his aura¡ª"


    "Silence!" the baron roared, cutting Lincoln off. "How dare you say such a thing! Yes, Michael awakened his aura and became a knight. Even so, you are the heir to this barony and his elder brother. If you had shown a shred of generosity and accepted him, none of this would have happened. Do you even understand what it means to have another knight in the barony? He''s not just your brother¡ªhe''s one of only three knights in our entire domain. Do you realize what that represents?" Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "I do! And that''s exactly why I did it!" Lincoln snapped. "That brat never respected me as the heir. He always looked down on me. If he wanted to play executioner, he should have stayed in that role. Why did he have to claw his way back as a knight? If he''d chosen to become a wandering knight, I wouldn''t have cared. But why, of all things, did he return here? Do you have any idea how I felt when you welcomed him? That damned bastard child¡ª!"


    A loud crack interrupted Lincoln''s tirade as the baron''s hand struck his cheek, whipping his head to the side. Lincoln touched his bleeding lip and gave a bitter laugh.


    "Hah. It''s always like this. Is it wrong to call a bastard a bastard?"


    "...He is not a bastard," the baron said, his voice low and firm. "Margaret and I were wed under the light of the divine."


    "She was already carrying Michael when you married her!" Lincoln spat.


    The baron ran a hand over his face, weariness seeping into his features. His first marriage, an arrangement for political gain, had been a misery. His first wife had been stubborn, narrow-minded, and obsessed with vanity¡ªtraits she had passed on to their eldest son.


    After her death, the baron had been captivated by Margaret, an angelic woman of beauty and kindness. Their passionate night together had resulted in Michael''s conception, and under the sharp scrutiny of her father, Alfred, the baron had married her without hesitation. It was a responsibility he had been prepared to shoulder, and for a time, he was genuinely happy.


    But Margaret''s smile, her warmth, and the idyllic dream of their union faded with her death during childbirth. The baron could still recall holding Michael''s blood-soaked body in his trembling hands. The details of her funeral were a blur; he had blocked it all out.


    Perhaps that was why he had sent Michael to his maternal grandfather. Financial strains from recurring droughts had compelled him to marry a wealthy merchant''s daughter as his third wife, and sending Michael away had seemed practical¡ªa means of giving the boy a different future.


    At the time, the baron had not realized the depth of Lincoln''s hatred, nor could he have anticipated Michael''s remarkable talents. Sometimes, exceptional gifts could be as much a curse as a blessing.


    When Michael returned, having awakened his aura and become a knight, he spoke of his longing for the castle and his desire to claim what was rightfully his. He declared that he would not spend his life handling corpses as an executioner. His eyes had burned with ambition as he expressed his desire to protect the barony as one of its knights.


    The baron had welcomed him back with open arms, perhaps driven by a lingering sense of inferiority toward Alfred, Michael''s maternal grandfather¡ªa knight of towering stature and formidable skill. Welcoming Michael had been a decision rooted in admiration and guilt, but it had led to disastrous consequences.


    The baron sighed deeply, his voice heavy with fatigue. "Please, Lincoln. Do not make this more miserable than it already is. This is the best course of action for everyone. I promise you¡ªyour position will not be threatened. After the subjugation, go to the capital, marry, and return with a son."


    Lincoln hesitated. For the first time, his father''s once-imposing shoulders seemed small and frail. Though Lincoln''s anger toward Michael burned hot, a sliver of guilt for his actions tempered his resolve. At length, he relented.


    "Fine. I''ll go. But Michael must stay in that house. If he sets foot in this castle again, I''ll kill him."


    The baron gave a weary nod. He knew that even if Michael fully recovered, Alfred would never allow him to return to the castle. Moreover, Michael''s duties would keep him bound to the barony''s five territories, far from the capital where Lincoln would reside. Lincoln would be safe in the capital, free to find a wife and secure his position as heir.


    Whatever punishment Lincoln might face upon returning to the barony would come after his position as successor was firmly established. And by then, it would no longer matter.

 Chapter 4 - 4 Would You Revive Him?

    While Michael remained asleep, Alfred finished a hearty meal of white bread slathered with butter, savory smoked ham, and crisp onion pickles, all washed down with milk. Rising from his seat, he stretched and prepared to leave. The night had already settled in, but it was of no concern to him.


    Clara, still seated at the dining table, looked up curiously as she noticed Alfred reaching for his cloak. "Where are you going at this hour?"


    "Just out for a walk," Alfred replied curtly.


    Clara thought nothing of it. Her father-in-law was fond of evening strolls, and he was strong enough to take care of himself. Any lurking spirits or bandits in the night would have more reason to fear Alfred than the other way around.


    "Shall I prepare a lantern for you?" she offered.


    "No need."


    The door creaked shut behind him. Left alone in the faint glow of the dining room lamp, Clara sighed and resumed her sewing. With her husband away in the village investigating the culprit behind a recent incident, her tasks were limited to mending clothes and keeping the household in order.


    Alfred returned from his walk just as Clara was starting her third garment. Draped over his broad shoulders was a massive bear carcass. Apparently, an audacious bear had attacked him during his stroll.


    Clara helped Alfred hang the beast in the barn, marveling at the pristine condition of the pelt. The old man''s skillful bare-handed kill had left the fur unblemished, a testament to his formidable strength.


    By the time Michael opened his eyes, he had fully regained the memories of his new self. Gentle sunlight filtered through the window, warming his brow. His body felt much improved; he knew it was time to start moving again. After days confined to bed, his muscles ached from disuse, and he was eager to regain his strength.


    With his memories now complete, Michael felt more assured. The fear of a grim, fiery end¡ªhis so-called "charcoal ending"¡ªno longer loomed over him.


    As Clara entered the room to change the bed linens, she brightened at the sight of him awake. Michael''s face, illuminated by the sunlight, seemed almost holy, his angelic smile reminiscent of his childhood days.


    "Michael, you''re awake! Are you feeling hungry?" she asked warmly.


    "I''m starving, Aunt," Michael replied with a sheepish grin.


    In a flurry, Clara prepared breakfast. She boiled porridge with generous amounts of milk and finely chopped bear meat. While she would have liked to serve freshly baked bread and eggs, she opted for a lighter meal, mindful of Michael''s recovery. Nonetheless, she seasoned the dish liberally, ensuring it was both nutritious and flavorful.


    Michael finished the porridge and a glass of milk with gusto. Though he had worried about the quality of food in a world resembling the Middle Ages, he was pleasantly surprised. The warmth and care that went into the meal made it all the more satisfying.


    Feeling revitalized, Michael slowly stood and left his room. In the hallway, he encountered his grandfather, Alfred, lighting a pipe. The older man''s towering, muscular frame still exuded an intimidating presence.


    "You''re up. How''s your body?" Alfred asked, his deep eyes revealing little emotion.


    "Thanks to your care, I''m fully recovered. Thank you," Michael replied brightly.


    Alfred puffed on his pipe as he regarded Michael. His black hair mirrored Alfred''s own, while his vivid red eyes were a reflection of his late mother''s. After a moment, Alfred nodded and settled back into his armchair.


    "I feel stiff after lying in bed for so long. I think I''ll take a walk," Michael said.


    Alfred nodded again without a word, though Michael couldn''t help but feel a shiver run down his spine. Did Alfred suspect anything? The thought of those massive fists¡ªcapable of crushing a human skull¡ªwas hard to ignore.


    Michael strolled through the nearby woods, letting the brisk northern winter wind slash at his cheeks like a blade. The cold, crisp air filled his lungs, invigorating him as he walked. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    With his thoughts now clearer, Michael decided to test something he had been putting off. After ensuring no one was around, he spoke aloud.


    "Status window."


    Nothing happened. As expected.


    Still, he wasn''t ready to give up. "Gacha. Dice roll. Lottery. Random box¡­"


    He ran out of ideas. The futile attempt left him feeling embarrassed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Shaking his head, Michael trudged back toward the house, his mind swirling with unease.


    When he reached the yard, he noticed a wagon parked out front. His uncle must have returned from the village. A glossy brown horse neighed in greeting as it spotted him. Drawing from his inherited memories, Michael unfastened the harness and led the horse to the stable, where he fed it some hay.


    The wagon bed was stained red, though whether it was blood or something else, Michael couldn''t be sure. He fetched water and a scrubbing brush to clean it, layering fresh straw once the task was complete.


    As he worked, faint screams reached his ears. "Aaaah! Hngh¡­ urgh¡­"


    Someone was being tortured nearby. Oddly, Michael found himself unperturbed. Was it his training as a fighter pilot? Or perhaps Michael''s memories were influencing him. At just seventeen years old, he was already accustomed to the sound of screams¡ªcries of confession, the crack of whips on flesh, and the struggles of condemned souls.


    After finishing with the wagon, Michael spotted Clara in the yard, carrying a basket of laundry. She smiled at him.


    "Oh, I was going to take care of that. Thank you, Michael."


    "It''s nothing, Aunt. Uncle has returned, hasn''t he? He seems to have gotten straight to work," Michael said, glancing toward a building set apart from the main house.


    The two-story annex, painted black and barred with iron windows, radiated an eerie atmosphere. Even in the height of summer, the place exuded a chilling aura. From inside, the tortured screams continued.


    "Yes, we caught the man at last," Clara''s husband said. "Father and I are taking care of him now."


    "Who is he?" Michael asked.


    "The man who assaulted and strangled little Jacques'' six-year-old daughter. He''s receiving the punishment he deserves."


    "And now¡­?" Michael asked, his gaze shifting toward the annex.


    Clara solemnly nodded and mimed a cutting motion. The gesture made Michael wince involuntarily.


    "A fitting punishment," Michael remarked. The man was a child predator and a murderer; nothing could be more appropriate.

 Chapter 5 - 5

    Smiling faintly, Michael began cleaning an iron hook hanging from the annex wall. Blood stained the metal, likely from where the criminal had been dragged by his collarbone. Muffled sobs and wails continued to seep from the building.


    "They''ll need a branding iron, won''t they?" Michael asked.


    "I left one by the fireplace to heat up. I was going to bring it to them after hanging the laundry," Clara replied.


    "I''ll take it," Michael offered. "You can finish hanging the clothes."


    "Thank you. Be careful not to burn yourself."


    Michael entered the house and spotted the branding iron glowing red among the embers of the fireplace. It still needed a little more time to heat up fully. As he waited, his eyes wandered to a massive sword leaning against the wall¡ªa weapon that had always seemed terrifying in his inherited memories.


    He approached and grasped the hilt. The moment his fingers curled around it, a peculiar sensation coursed through him. A voice, dry and mechanical, echoed in his mind:


    [Activation conditions met. Absorbing mana. Mana absorption complete. Ability use conditions not satisfied. Function terminated.]


    Michael stood frozen for a moment before regaining his senses. What had just happened? S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As he released the sword, glittering fragments fell from its blade to the ground. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was the mana stone embedded in the hilt that had shattered. These stones kept the blade perpetually sharp without needing maintenance.


    Had he absorbed its mana by touching it? And what were these "ability use conditions" it mentioned? His heart pounded with curiosity, but he knew he shouldn''t rush. Discovering the answers would require time and experimentation.


    Calming himself, Michael picked up the branding iron and the sword before heading to the annex.


    Inside, the criminal lay bleeding and groaning in pain. Alfred took the branding iron, seared the man''s lower body, applied medicinal herbs, and wrapped him in tight bandages.


    The man would die eventually, but it wouldn''t be from blood loss before his execution by beheading. His screams of agony filled the room until he finally passed out. Alfred then hoisted the unconscious man onto his shoulder and stepped out of the annex.


    At a nearby water barrel, Alfred washed the blood from his hands. Henry, Michael''s uncle, who had been overseeing the scene, turned toward his nephew with a broad grin.


    "You''re finally up! How are you feeling?" Henry asked, his expression kind despite his rugged features.


    "I''m fine now," Michael replied with a small smile.


    "Good. Don''t go back to the castle. Stay here and live peacefully with us," Henry said, though his worried expression betrayed his cheerful tone.


    Michael chuckled softly. Seeing such a tender expression on Henry''s massive frame was almost endearing. "I''ve come to my senses. I''ll stay here."


    Henry''s smile widened. Alfred, observing the exchange, finally spoke. "If we''re done here, let''s head to the square."


    The final task remained¡ªto execute the criminal.


    The town square was packed by the time the sun had passed its zenith. It was a bright, sunny day¡ªperfect for carrying out an execution. Laughter and the cheerful chatter of vendors selling baked goods and preserved fruits filled the air.


    Dressed in their finest, townspeople had turned the execution into an outing. Michael and Henry loaded the prisoner into the wagon. The man, now half-mad, mumbled incoherently.


    "It wasn''t me¡­ It was the demon inside me¡­ Yes, he made me do it. He told me to strangle her soft neck, to defile her. I''m a good man, don''t you know? I was once the great archer, Yoan! Women used to throw themselves at me. I was a war hero! That girl¡ªshe tempted me! She must have been the devil''s child. This is all the demon''s doing. I''m innocent¡­"


    Michael ignored the delusional muttering. In cases where mitigating circumstances applied, criminals might be given a sedative before their execution to ease their passing. But Alan warranted no such mercy.


    Henry hitched the well-fed brown horse back to the wagon and pulled the reins. Michael climbed onto the wagon''s rear with Alfred, the rickety wheels creaking as they began their journey to the square.


    As the wagon rolled down the forest path, Michael''s thoughts returned to the dry, mechanical voice he had heard when the mana stone shattered. What did it mean? And what would come next?


    The wagon reached the square, where Jacques, the father of the murdered girl, pushed through the crowd with a pale face. Alfred intercepted him.


    "This man will pay the price, Jacques. He''ll die in the most excruciating way. I swear it," Alfred said solemnly.


    Jacques broke into sobs, clutching his daughter''s ribbon in his trembling hands. "Please, Executioner. My wife has cried herself into exhaustion. My little Marie¡­ she was so kind, so beautiful. You know that, don''t you? Such a small, innocent child¡­ Oh, God¡­"


    Alfred said nothing, his face hard as he hooked the criminal''s underarms and dragged him from the wagon. Yoan, drenched in blood, screamed in protest as Alfred hauled him onto the execution platform.


    The townspeople jeered, their anger mingled with grief for the murdered girl. No one prayed for Yoan''s soul.


    The execution platform loomed high above the square. At the toll of the bell signaling three o''clock, the crowd fell silent. Bound and trembling, Yoan''s wide eyes darted across the faces of the onlookers, terror etched into every feature.


    Alfred''s voice rang out, steady and firm. "If I do not stain my hands with blood, who will? Peace comes from vengeance, and death brings rest."


    The sword fell.


    First, Yoan''s ears were severed, then his shoulders slashed, and finally, his neck shattered. Alfred had kept his promise to Jacques. Alan died in agony and terror.


    The crowd began to disperse, their emotions a mix of relief and unease. Jacques stayed behind, cutting a lock of the criminal''s hair to show his wife, perhaps seeking closure for their shared grief.


    The village scribe approached Alfred, bowed respectfully, and left. Alfred lit his pipe, smoke curling around his weathered face as Henry and Michael collected Yoan''s remains.


    The day''s work was nearly done. The body would be buried in the graveyard for the unclaimed, a final duty to complete the grim affair.


    As Michael lifted Yoan''s severed head, a voice echoed in his mind once more:


    [The absorbed mana is sufficient. Ability use conditions satisfied. Would you like to revive him? Yes/No.]

 Chapter 6 - 6 Acquiring

    Revive him? This man? The idea was unthinkable. Michael shook his head instinctively. Once again, the dry, mechanical voice spoke in his mind:


    [Ten seconds have passed. The revival option has expired. Would you like to extract a random ability? Yes/No.]


    The words of the condemned man echoed in Michael''s mind¡ªthe self-proclaimed war hero and renowned archer. If there was any truth to his claims, perhaps... Michael gave a slight nod and answered internally.


    "Yes."


    In an instant, a vision overtook him. The scene was surreal¡ªa vast sky, shrouded in shadow, with faint stars barely flickering in the darkness. Among them, one star shone vividly, piercing through the gloom. Michael felt the star draw closer, its light sinking into his brow as he closed his eyes.


    [You have acquired "Archery Skills" from Alan Velzeff. Would you like to explore the origin of the ability? Yes/No.]


    Explore its origin? Yes.


    [Alan Velzeff was a naturally gifted archer who gained renown through participation in twelve territorial wars. However, after a series of poor decisions, he was punished by the amputation of both thumbs and forefingers. Reduced to a wandering vagrant, his unchecked lust drove him to prey on the weak. He assaulted four young girls and five elderly individuals, murdering three of them. His crimes caught up to him after his final murder, and he was executed by Alfred von Wittelbach in the barony of Gregory Crassus. Exhibit Alan''s legendary archery skills, renowned for their unerring precision.]


    Michael opened his eyes as the voice faded. His uncle, Henry, stood before him, looking concerned.


    "You alright? Maybe you overdid it, getting up so soon. Here, hand me that and rest in the back of the wagon," Henry said, gesturing toward the severed head Michael held.


    Michael waved his hand dismissively. "I''m fine. Just felt a little lightheaded for a moment."


    Their day''s work concluded with burying the condemned criminal in the unmarked gravesite for those without kin. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Henry grinned at Michael.


    "Alright, let''s head home. Your aunt''s probably got some bear stew simmering, just waiting for us."


    It was a feast. The bear stew was rich and savory, its juices soaking into the soft white bread they dipped into it. Clara worried aloud that the meal might be too heavy for someone who had only recently recovered, but Michael couldn''t resist. For dessert, they had rolls coated with honey and cinnamon, accompanied by freshly picked apricots from the garden. It felt like a taste of heaven.


    Afterwards, Michael settled into a chair by the fireplace, cradling his full stomach. Fighting off the pull of sleep, he organized his thoughts.


    Unfamiliar yet instinctive knowledge of archery flooded his mind. He longed to pick up a bow and try it. Techniques came to him effortlessly¡ªhow to adjust for wind direction, how to strike two targets with a single arrow, and how to rapidly fire consecutive shots. It was as if he had lived decades as an archer.


    "This must be from that ability extraction," Michael mused.


    The image of Alan''s severed hands came to mind¡ªthumbs and forefingers missing, a reflection of his tarnished legacy. Michael forced the thought aside, choosing instead to focus on the skills he had gained.


    The next morning, Michael rose early and asked his uncle to find him a bow. Henry rummaged through the shed behind the house and produced an old longbow. Though slightly worn, it became serviceable after some restringing and sanding of frayed edges.


    Michael''s newfound skills proved remarkable. With the strength of his current body combined with the precision of Alan''s expertise, his arrows consistently struck their targets. From 200 meters, he even managed to take down a rabbit with a single shot. Pumping his fist in triumph, Michael felt a surge of exhilaration.


    It felt like playing a shooting game with a cheat code at his disposal.


    However, his palms soon began to ache. Following the instincts embedded in his mind, he set about crafting a shooting glove from the bear hide Alfred had brought back. Despite never having made one before, he completed a functional glove that fit perfectly. When he tested the bow with the glove on, the improvement was immediately noticeable.


    With both archery and swordsmanship at his command, Michael felt a newfound confidence. He now had the means to fight at both long and close range. Though the future remained uncertain, he knew that survival demanded a diverse skill set. He was eager to acquire more abilities, particularly if they proved as useful as this one.


    But abilities required mana stones. Three stones were needed for his next extraction, and each cost a staggering 30 gold coins. At that price, his funds would quickly run dry.


    Looking at the scattered arrows from his practice, Michael realized he couldn''t afford to waste anything. Collecting and reusing the arrows was essential, especially since crafting new ones wasn''t cheap. He winced at the sight of blunted arrowheads, the result of his immense strength.


    The memory of Alfred silently replenishing the mana stone in his sword after an execution flashed through Michael''s mind. Could he absorb the mana from that stone as well?


    No. Repeating the act would surely draw suspicion. He needed money. A lot of it.


    Michael sighed and diligently gathered the arrows strewn across the field. Once done, he headed to his room and opened a chest to check his finances. Beneath ropes, hooks, chains, and torture tools, the glint of gold coins caught his eye¡ª27 in total. It was the allowance he had saved from annual visits to the castle.


    He pocketed the coins and turned to the cupboard, where various pouches of dried herbs lined the shelves. Selling them might fetch another two gold coins, at most. Hunting for pelts and meat would help as well, but even then, saving enough for three mana stones felt like an insurmountable task. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Sighing again, Michael resolved to chip away at the goal bit by bit.


    Later that day, Michael ventured to the square. The cold air filled his lungs, sharper than usual under the overcast sky. Merchants shouted over each other, hawking their wares.


    Pulling up his coat collar and tugging his hat low, Michael blended into the bustling crowd.

 Chapter 7 - 7

    The alleyway was littered with trash and filth, its stench permeating the air. Michael carefully picked his way through, avoiding the worst of it as he hurried along. Even the beggars tasked with collecting garbage avoided this area, leaving it in squalor.


    Those beggars, under orders from Michael''s grandfather Alfred, spent their days lounging in the shadows, gathering rumors, and their nights cleaning the town square and main streets. They knew everything¡ªwho beat their spouse or children, which shopkeepers rigged their scales to cheat customers. Nothing escaped their watchful eyes.


    Finally emerging from the mire, Michael arrived at his destination: the home of Hannah, the midwife.


    Hannah was one of the town''s skilled midwives, known not just for delivering babies but also for her expertise in brewing potions. She crafted remedies to prevent unwanted pregnancies, potions for terminating them, and even aphrodisiacs marketed as "love elixirs." Her proficiency in herbal mixtures and sharp business sense made her a prominent figure in the market.


    "Ah, young master! It''s been a while. How are you feeling? Come in, come in, and warm yourself by the fire. Goodness, you''ve lost so much weight!" Hannah exclaimed, her chestnut curls bouncing as she ushered him inside. She was a plump, motherly woman who radiated warmth.


    A former apprentice magician who had been dismissed for a lack of talent, Hannah had instead honed her skills in potion-making, carving out a comfortable niche for herself.


    "The herbs you brought last time were excellent," she said, examining the pouch Michael handed her. "I''ve been struggling to keep up with demand lately, so this is perfect timing. I''ll pay more if you keep supplying me. Dried or fresh¡ªeither is fine, as much as you can bring."


    "That''s good to hear. I''ll keep bringing more," Michael replied.


    Hannah meticulously inspected the neatly dried and sorted herbs, nodding approvingly. "Excellent quality as always. I''ll give you three gold coins for these. Keep up the good work, alright?"


    Three gold coins¡ªmore than Michael had expected. He silently congratulated himself for selling directly to Hannah instead of going through the general herbal merchants.


    By the time Michael returned home, it was late at night. He slipped through the door quietly and bolted it behind him, but as he headed toward his room, a deep voice stopped him in his tracks.


    "You''re just now getting back?"


    His heart sank. Alfred sat by the fireplace, his dark, penetrating eyes seeming to see straight through Michael''s soul.


    "Still awake, Grandfather?" Michael asked, trying to keep his voice even.


    Alfred tapped the ashes from his pipe into the fireplace. "Don''t stay out so late. The forest is dangerous."


    With that, Alfred gave a slight nod, dismissing him. The firelight cast shadows over the deep scar on his cheek, making him look like a predator lurking in the dark.


    Forcing a polite smile, Michael retreated to his room, closing the door behind him. Interacting with Alfred was still a daunting experience.


    Counting the coins in his possession, Michael now had 30 gold¡ªenough for one mana stone. Tomorrow, he decided, he would head into the forest to hunt.


    The forest was dense with history, its ruins telling tales of a bygone era. Michael stood before a moss-covered, crumbling tower, remnants of an ancient castle scattered around him. He climbed a collapsed stone staircase, its vines clinging to the broken walls.


    These ruins were once part of the domain of House Barclay, a family that ruled over five territories 300 years ago. As a descendant of the vassals who betrayed the Barclays, Michael couldn''t help but feel a chill run down his spine.


    From his vantage point atop the staircase, he spotted a stag grazing beneath the trees. It was the same elusive creature he''d been tracking for hours¡ªquick and vigilant, always staying just out of range. Its majestic antlers sprawled like the branches of an old tree. A fine trophy that would fetch a handsome price.


    Michael steadied his breath, raised his bow, and pulled the string taut. The arrow flew true, striking the stag''s neck. A triumphant smile spread across his face.


    As he hurried down the stairs to retrieve his prize, Michael froze. In the growing shadows of the ruins, a blackened hand reached out from the gloom.


    The oppressive malice in the air was unmistakable. A malevolent spirit.


    The skeletal knight stepped forward, its hollow eye sockets glowing with fiery light. Its gaze locked onto Michael, hatred emanating from its very core.


    "Damn traitor Gregory Crassus! Unforgivable!" the spirit bellowed.


    Michael cursed under his breath. Why had he chosen this place to hunt? His decision to seek higher ground had inadvertently lured him into danger.


    Desperately, Michael drew his sword, though he knew it would do little good. As a novice knight, his aura was still weak, and he lacked the precision to wield it effectively against such a foe.


    The skeletal knight lunged, its movements erratic yet relentless. Michael barely evaded its grasp, scrambling to put distance between himself and the spirit.


    Thankfully, the spirit appeared bound to the ruins, unable to leave its domain. If Michael could escape, he might survive.


    Despite its lack of intelligence, the knight''s fury was unrelenting. Michael''s attempts to strike back only chipped away at the creature''s bones, causing no significant damage. Exhaustion began to set in, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.


    Realizing he had no choice, Michael decided to use his aura. If he could land a single decisive blow, he might shatter the spirit''s core. But if he failed, he''d be defenseless, an easy target for the enraged specter.


    He needed a moment to focus. As he maneuvered to create an opening, Michael''s foot slipped on a vine, throwing him off balance. The knight''s bony hand reached for him, its skeletal fingers brushing his skin.


    Is this how I die? The thought raced through Michael''s mind as a flood of memories flashed before him.


    But then¡­ something unexpected happened.


    The moment the spirit''s hand touched Michael, it let out an ear-piercing scream. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Gyaaaaaaah!"


    Michael stared in shock as the knight recoiled, its fiery eyes dimming.


    [Activation conditions met. Absorbing mana.]


    A smirk spread across Michael''s face as realization dawned. The spirit was no longer an enemy¡ªit was a convenient source of mana.

 Chapter 8 - 8 My Brother is Dead

    [Insufficient mana absorbed. Required mana is now twice the previous amount. Please charge more mana. Function terminated.]


    The skeletal knight, its fiery eyes blazing with malice, crumbled into dust and vanished. Michael silently bid the spirit farewell, appreciating its "generosity."


    Based on his observations, a single malevolent spirit seemed to provide mana equivalent to three mana stones. But with the required mana now doubled, it would take six stones¡ªor two spirits¡ªfor his next ability. By that logic, the next tier would demand twelve stones or four spirits, an exponential increase.


    The cost was steep, rivaling the most exploitative moneylenders. Yet the rewards were undeniable. Transforming from a novice archer to a marksman of extraordinary precision was worth the effort.


    Even with an old longbow, Michael''s archery skills had become impeccable. He could only imagine what he might achieve with a high-quality, finely-tuned bow. Furthermore, his physical abilities had subtly improved¡ªhe felt faster, stronger, more resilient.


    But where could he find more spirits? They were far from common. As much as his new abilities expanded his possibilities, their conditions were daunting. And there was another issue.


    What if someone witnessed the mana absorption process? Whether it was mana stones dissolving or spirits being drained, the sight could only lead to trouble in a world quick to label anything unusual as the work of demons or evil gods. Michael couldn''t afford that kind of suspicion.


    Maybe gloves would prevent accidental absorption? Then again, wearing gloves at all times might seem unnatural.


    [Absorption settings can be adjusted.]


    A new message interrupted his thoughts. Was this an option all along?


    [Settings will be updated. During the 12-hour update process, mana absorption will be disabled. The update begins now.]


    The voice almost sounded cheerful, though Michael dismissed it as his imagination. Relieved, he turned toward home, his cart laden with the day''s haul of game.


    By the time Michael skinned and cleaned the animals, the evening was already upon him. Washing the blood from his hands, he stepped inside the house, where Clara approached him in a rush, her face grave.


    "Go to the annex. There''s been an accident¡ªfive people died during logging. Your uncle is bringing the bodies."


    Without hesitation, Michael made his way to the annex. In addition to the execution chamber, the annex housed a workspace for tasks like autopsies and post-accident examinations. Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    When he arrived, Henry was already unloading the bodies, each shrouded in blood-stained white cloth. The accident must have been gruesome. Michael silently joined his uncle in transferring the bodies from the cart to the workbench.


    As they moved one of the bodies, an arm slipped out from beneath the shroud, dangling limply. No matter how many times he faced such scenes, he could never fully grow accustomed to them. The day''s tragedy would cast a shadow over many families in the barony.


    Before long, a group of men gathered outside the annex¡ªsurvivors of the accident, many of them limping or nursing bandaged wounds. A somber-looking middle-aged man stepped forward as their representative.


    "Please, take care of them¡­ We''ll cover the costs through the logging guild. Just make them presentable for their families. In this state, we can''t even leave the coffins open," he pleaded.


    Henry nodded solemnly. Preparing bodies was one of his specialties¡ªa skill Michael still had much to learn.


    "Inform the families. Tell them the bodies will be ready in two days. They can prepare the funerals," Henry said. "I''m more concerned about the surviving workers. Are they alright?"


    The man sighed heavily. "It''s hard to say. This could have happened to any of us. I can''t stop thinking about how to break the news to their families. Some of them are already struggling to get through the winter¡­"


    For these laborers, death wasn''t the end of tragedy¡ªit left those still living to carry the burden. The weight of it all was etched on the man''s face as he turned and left with the others.


    Inside the annex, Michael began arranging the bodies on the workbench. While Henry fetched supplies, Michael straightened twisted limbs, cleaned dried blood, and began basic preparations.


    Standing over the least damaged body, he gripped the shoulder with one hand and gently pulled the neck back into place. The unnatural angle slowly corrected itself. Moving on to the next body, he extended broken limbs and carefully wiped away the blood.


    The rest of the work required Henry''s expertise. The bodies would need to be embalmed, crushed areas filled with carved wood, torn skin stitched, and collapsed sections padded with cotton. Finally, Clara would take over, dressing and grooming the deceased for their final presentation.


    The process wasn''t just about honoring the dead¡ªit was for the living. Funerals helped families confront and accept death, remembering their loved ones as they were in life.


    Only executioners and their descendants were entrusted with such tasks. As agents of vengeance and peace, they carried the dual role of restoring dignity to the dead and helping the living face loss.


    Henry wouldn''t sleep tonight, working tirelessly to fulfill his promise to the families. Michael would stay and assist, continuing to learn the trade passed down through their family.


    By early morning, Clara appeared at the annex door, carrying a tray with steaming tea and snacks.


    "Take a break, both of you. Have something to eat¡ªyou didn''t even have dinner."


    Henry grinned in gratitude, removing his gloves and quickly downing the tea and snacks Clara had brought. Michael, seated nearby, took a careful sip of the hot tea. The warmth seemed to ease his exhaustion.


    Clara set the tray aside and brushed her hand gently through Michael''s blonde hair. Though he looked no older than his late teens, the weight of his duties mirrored that of an adult. For Clara, every young life lost was a reminder of her own sorrow. After three stillbirths, she was unable to bear children, and each tragedy brought her to the brink of tears.


    Outside, snow began to fall, blanketing the world in a silent, white stillness.


    Elsewhere, deep in the forest, Alfred stood unmoving, the snow gathering on his shoulders. The woods were deathly quiet, as though all living creatures had stopped to hold their breath.


    With his eyes closed, Alfred stretched out a hand. Shadows spilled across the snow, spreading like creeping vines. As he grasped at the shadows, they twisted and coiled, forming into two distinct masses.


    "Find those who killed you," Alfred commanded.

 Chapter 9 - 9

    The shadowy vines converged on a spot, where the frozen ground began to shift. Two corpses emerged from the snow, their lifeless forms animated by an unseen force.


    Michael felt like he was dreaming. He remembered sitting with Henry, sipping the tea Clara had brought, but now he was somewhere unfamiliar.


    The air around him was a swirling red mist. Dizzy and disoriented, he stumbled, eventually losing his footing and falling. In the haze before him, a massive face emerged.


    The face tilted curiously, its features eerily beautiful yet disturbingly grotesque. The corners of its lips curled into a sly smile as soft, mocking laughter filled the air.


    Then the mouth began to open¡ªwider and wider until it encompassed the entire face. Sharp, jagged teeth glinted ominously in the crimson light, and a snake-like tongue darted out, slick with decay.


    The laughter grew louder, almost taunting, as the tongue flicked pieces of rotting flesh onto the ground.


    A rapid, jarring voice suddenly filled Michael''s ears:


    "Look at me. Look now. Can you see me? Isn''t this what you wanted? I''ve come just as you wished. Isn''t it good? Don''t you like it? Answer me. Speak. Speak now. Why aren''t you answering? Why won''t you speak? Why won''t you¡ª"


    The words poured forth in a torrent, overwhelming him. Yet the voice was familiar¡ªdry and emotionless, like the one he''d heard before.


    As Michael staggered back, his vision expanded. A towering, pale figure stood before him, her body unnaturally tall. Even standing, Michael barely reached her ankles. In her hand, she clutched a colossal, severed head¡ªthe same one that had first appeared to him.


    Why hadn''t he recognized it sooner? The woman held her own decapitated head, and Michael felt his breath hitch. His lips quivered as he realized the truth: he was nothing more than a plaything, and she could destroy him with the flick of a finger.


    Michael''s scream tore through the silence as he jolted awake.


    Clara and Henry were at his side, their faces etched with concern.


    "Are you alright?" Clara asked, brushing a hand across his forehead. "You''re drenched in sweat. Did you have a bad dream? You should rest." sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "I''m fine," Michael said, forcing a smile. "I just nodded off."


    "You probably had a nightmare," Henry teased, though his eyes held a hint of worry.


    Michael chuckled nervously. Was it truly just a dream? Deep down, he knew it wasn''t. The eerie encounter felt linked to the voice he''d heard earlier that day.


    Pushed by his relatives to rest, Michael returned to his room, locking the door behind him. Sliding down against the wall, he clutched his chest, feeling the frantic pounding of his heart. No matter how much he tried to calm himself, the terror lingered.


    After a long while, he finally stood. But as he did, the voice returned, resonating in his mind.


    [The function creation is complete. Settings can now be adjusted. Please assign a name.]


    No matter how tightly Michael covered his ears, the voice continued to echo.


    [The function creation is complete. Settings can now be adjusted. Please assign a name.]


    The demand grew sharper and more insistent.


    [Assign a name.]


    [Name.]


    [NAME!]


    Fear gripped Michael. It felt as though the towering woman from his dream might appear if he didn''t comply. Panicked, he shouted the first name that came to mind.


    "Penelope! Your name is Penelope!"


    A satisfied sigh followed, and the voice finally subsided. Michael''s hands were clammy with sweat. What on earth was that?


    As the fear ebbed, he began to think more clearly. Whatever Penelope was, her abilities were undeniably useful. Despite her terrifying appearance, she hadn''t harmed him¡ªif anything, she seemed oddly pleased with him.


    Driven by a strange compulsion, Michael closed his eyes and whispered, "Penelope."


    [Yes, state the desired setting,] the voice replied.


    "Show me how much mana is left for revivals or ability extractions."


    [Setting applied as requested.]


    A graph appeared before Michael, showing his current mana level at half capacity. The clear visualization calmed him slightly, the tension in his body dissipating. Exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he fell asleep where he sat.


    The next afternoon brought shocking news.


    Lincoln, Michael''s older brother and heir to the Crassus barony, was dead.


    When the news of Lincoln''s death arrived, Michael was tending to the injured daughter of the village blacksmith. The wound¡ªa deep gash on her shin¡ªwas serious but not life-threatening. It would have healed quickly with healing magic, but such luxuries were beyond the reach of commoners.


    In this land, only the wealthy or noble had access to healing magic. Most villagers sought aid from the executioner''s family for injuries or ailments that couldn''t be managed at home. For those even poorer, the only option was the unlicensed barbers who performed crude surgeries for as little as nine coppers, with a survival rate of barely 20%. And yet, even those services were out of reach for many serfs, who could only pray not to succumb to infections or sickness.


    Michael carefully stitched the girl''s exposed muscle, bandaged the wound, and advised her to keep it cool with cold compresses. The shy girl nodded repeatedly, thanking him profusely as she handed him three silvers before limping out of the treatment room.


    Watching her leave, Michael sighed. The treatment fee was far too low, but he had no choice. Raising the price would drive away those in need.


    The people of the barony lived on the edge of subsistence, praying for enough food to eat and for their families to stay healthy. Though two years had passed since the last territorial war, the village''s condition had barely improved. Last summer''s storm had destroyed many fields, and several workers were swept away while attempting to clear clogged riverbanks. The recent accident at the logging site only worsened the community''s already dire situation.


    By contrast, Michael''s family lived comfortably enough to keep their fees low. The real problem was that Michael''s personal finances were painfully light.


    Back in the castle, Lincoln''s death had caused an uproar. A courier reported that Lincoln had died during a beast subjugation mission. While camping with his unit, he was allegedly attacked and killed by a bear. Witnesses claimed to have seen a hungry-looking bear lingering near the campsite, even approaching a cooking pot before being chased away with firewood.

 Chapter 10 - 10 We’ve Come to Fetch Him

    Lincoln was found alone in his tent, and the exact circumstances of his death remained unclear. The truth might be discovered by summoning a grand mage from the capital to question Lincoln''s lingering soul, but his death hardly warranted such effort or expense. It was neither noble nor heroic.


    In his vanity, Lincoln had pitched his tent away from the common soldiers, seeking to maintain a pristine, aristocratic appearance even in the wilderness¡ªa decision that cost him his life. Two guards stationed near Lincoln''s tent testified that a large creature, likely the bear, had knocked them unconscious. By the time they awoke, Lincoln was already dead.


    Rumors spread that Lincoln''s penchant for eating alone in his tent had attracted the bear. His death became a subject of mockery, not mourning.


    Baron Crassus, Lincoln''s father, was devastated. The son he had sent away to ensure his survival had met his end in such a foolish manner. If Lincoln were still alive, the baron might have beaten him to death himself.


    More pressing than grief was the issue of succession. Without a recognized heir within six months, the barony''s status would be jeopardized, requiring complex and costly interventions.


    "Lincoln, you fool¡­" the baron muttered. Though a moment of sadness flickered within him, it was short-lived. The world was ruthless, a place where only the strong survived. Considering the hereditary nature of intelligence, perhaps it was better for the family that Lincoln was gone.


    The resources invested in Lincoln were a waste, but dwelling on it now was pointless. The baron resolved to focus on the family''s future. Summoning his retainers, he began planning his next move.


    Among those gathered was Ronald, the barony''s sole knight aside from Michael. Ronald, known for his martial prowess but not his intelligence, stepped forward.


    "My lord," he said, "allow me to fetch Michael. If we show him the proper respect, I''m sure he will gladly accept his role."


    The baron shook his head. Only someone ignorant of the past would say such a thing. Ronald might be a skilled warrior, but his lack of insight was glaring. Then again, if he were both clever and strong, he wouldn''t still be in this barony.


    A scribe seated beside Ronald leaned over and whispered in his ear. Ronald''s face paled as the details sank in.


    "Th-that''s¡­ If that''s true, my lord, this is no ordinary matter. Returning to them after what happened would be shameless," Ronald stammered, horrified.


    The other retainers avoided his gaze, their faces flushed with discomfort. Ignoring Ronald''s blunder, the baron addressed the treasurer.


    "Even devils can be swayed by profit. Treasurer, how much can we offer as a gesture of goodwill?"


    After a moment of calculation, the treasurer replied, "We could manage 5,000 gold coins. That should be enough to purchase a growth elixir. Along with a warhorse from the Pamir Highlands, a high-quality longsword, and full plate armor, it would be a substantial gift."


    The baron nodded thoughtfully. Such gifts could elevate Michael''s status as a knight, enabling him to ascend from a mere 9th-tier novice to an 8th-tier or even a 7th-tier knight if he had the talent. Growth elixirs, rare and valuable, refined a knight''s mana channels, accelerating their development.


    While most knights plateaued at the 7th tier, exceptional individuals might reach the 6th tier by middle age. Growth elixirs were often exclusive to ancient noble families, passed down as secret formulas. As a baron, Crassus could only acquire one through auctions or connections.


    "Secure the gifts immediately," the baron ordered. "Once everything is ready, Sir Ronald and I will personally seek forgiveness and bring Michael back. As for Lincoln¡­"


    Despite his frustrations, the baron couldn''t entirely suppress his paternal grief. Suppressing the emotion, he continued to issue commands.


    The baron''s voice rang out as the meeting concluded.


    "Lincoln''s funeral will be a private affair for family only. There''s no need for anyone else to attend. As for the succession, Michael will be the next heir. You may all leave."


    The retainers exchanged uneasy glances before bowing and departing, leaving the baron alone to grapple with his emotions.


    Meanwhile, the news of Lincoln''s death left Michael with mixed feelings. The manner of his brother''s death was pathetic¡ªkilled by a bear while camping during a beast subjugation mission. Though it was unfortunate for a young noble to meet such an end, Michael couldn''t summon much sympathy.


    Lincoln had never shown him kindness. They barely interacted, meeting only once or twice a year, and every encounter was marred by Lincoln''s scorn and intimidation. For the original Michael, Lincoln''s cruelty had culminated in the fateful shove that sent him plummeting from the castle wall, ending his life.


    For Michael, Lincoln''s death at the hands of a bear seemed almost poetic¡ªa form of karmic retribution.


    Still, the situation forced Michael to confront an uncomfortable reality: as the barony''s new heir, he might have to leave the home he had grown to love.


    Despite the short time he had spent with them, Michael had come to see his maternal family as true kin. Clara''s warm smiles, Henry''s patient guidance, and Alfred''s silent but steadfast support had built a sense of belonging he hadn''t felt in either of his lives.


    Even Alfred, whose piercing gaze sometimes seemed to penetrate Michael''s secret, felt like family. Michael didn''t want to leave.


    But another part of him¡ªa part growing stronger every day¡ªhungered for more. His body was changing, growing stronger and faster, and he couldn''t help but yearn for greater purpose and challenges. If leaving this place was inevitable, he resolved to extract the best possible terms from the situation. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The baron and Sir Ronald arrived the day after Lincoln''s death was announced. Standing in the front yard of Alfred''s house, the baron looked around impatiently before clearing his throat to prompt Ronald.


    Ronald, oblivious, stood awkwardly until the baron nudged him with a whisper. Startled, the knight stumbled forward and knocked on the door.


    Henry answered, his expression neutral.


    "What brings you here?" he asked.


    Ronald glanced at the baron, unsure of how to respond.


    "I¡­ I''ve come to¡­ fetch Michael," he stammered, his voice incongruously meek for someone of his size.


    Annoyed by Ronald''s fumbling, the baron stepped forward. "There''s been an incident at the castle," he began.

 Chapter 11 - 11

    Henry froze momentarily before offering measured condolences. "I am sorry for your loss. It''s a tragic event."


    The baron waved off the sentiment. Despite being the lord of the barony, he couldn''t assert his authority too forcefully here¡ªnot with Henry, who was both the heir to the executioner''s legacy and his brother-in-law.


    "Life is short, and he''s been called to the light of the Radiant One. He''ll find peace," the baron said coolly.


    To Henry, who had never forgotten the children Clara had lost, the baron''s indifference was incomprehensible. But his growing anger was only stoked by the baron''s next words.


    "I''ve come to take Michael with me."


    Henry''s temper flared. He glared at the baron, his resemblance to Alfred unmistakable in that moment.


    "Where do you intend to take him, my lord? Michael''s home is here. He has work to do today and nowhere else to be."


    Ignoring Henry''s indignation, the baron called out toward the house. "Michael! Come out. We need to talk."


    Henry stepped forward, his voice firm. "If you have something to say, you''ll say it to me. I am Michael''s guardian."


    "I am his father," the baron countered, his tone sharp. "I have every right¡ª"


    "You gave up that right long ago. Twice over, in fact. You have no claim here!" Henry snapped, his anger burning bright.


    From behind him, a cutting voice chimed in. "That''s enough."


    Clara stepped forward, her tone cold as steel.


    The baron removed his hat and offered her a polite nod, unruffled. For nobles, shamelessness was a necessary skill.


    "Clara, it''s been a while. I trust you''ve been well?" He paused, then continued smoothly, "As you may have heard, my eldest son has passed. Michael now has the right to inherit as the family''s heir."


    Clara faltered. She despised the baron''s calculating use of Lincoln''s death as leverage, but the truth of his words was undeniable.


    Her thoughts turned to Michael. Though she had poured all her love into him, there was always a shadow of longing in his eyes¡ªa void left by the affection he had been denied. She remembered the night he left for the castle, determined to claim his place as a knight. His parting words, laced with anger and bitterness, still stung. She didn''t want to hear them again.


    Tears welled up in her eyes, but before they could fall, a warm hand rested on her shoulder.


    "It''s alright, Aunt Clara. I''ll handle this."


    Michael''s voice cut through the tension as he emerged from the house.


    Michael couldn''t help but curse his predecessor. The memories of the original Michael were fresh in his mind, and the sheer arrogance and recklessness of that boy made his blood boil. To be raised with care and love by relatives who took him in as a baby, only to hurl insults at them? Unforgivable.


    Having grown up in an orphanage himself, Michael knew the pain and struggles of children abandoned by their parents. For Michael, who now held the memories of both lives, it was appalling how the original Michael had treated Clara and Henry, his aunt and uncle. Their warm, nurturing care had been met with nothing but cruelty. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael turned to Clara and Henry, both looking at him with worry etched on their faces. He reassured them gently, sending them back into the house. Whatever needed to be done, he would handle it himself.


    Michael and the baron walked along a forest trail, tension crackling in the air. Michael knew he needed to show his anger first.


    "Why now, Father?" Michael demanded, his voice sharp. "You abandoned me when I was injured, sent me away like I was nothing. And now, suddenly, you need me because Lincoln is dead? When Lincoln tried to kill me, you said nothing."


    "Don''t let emotions control you," the baron replied coolly. "That''s not how a noble behaves."


    "Taking responsibility for one''s actions is the duty of a noble, isn''t it? Owning up to one''s mistakes and paying for them¡ªthat''s what it means to be noble," Michael shot back.


    "You certainly have a lot to say," the baron muttered, clearing his throat. He waved Ronald away to give them privacy before turning back to face Michael. His eyes softened for a moment. She really does live on in him.


    "I won''t waste time on sentiment," the baron continued. "Think of the benefits. You''ll inherit everything¡ªlands, soldiers, title, the castle, and all of Crassus'' wealth. Isn''t that what you wanted?"


    Michael''s lips curled into a sneer. "I used to want it. Not anymore. I don''t care what happens to the barony. Go home. I''ve decided to live as an executioner."


    The baron''s composure wavered. "I''ve prepared growth elixirs, a Pamir Highland warhorse, armor, and a longsword for you. Do you realize how much I''ve invested? Five thousand gold¡ªhalf of the barony''s annual income!"


    Michael''s laugh was cold. "Five thousand? Do you think I''m a fool?"


    He knew better. With six thousand freemen in the barony, even with taxes and tithes to the Radiant Church, the baron''s annual income was far higher than that. And the equipment he offered¡ªa knight''s basic gear¡ªwas nothing more than an obligation the barony owed its heir. The only true gift was the growth elixir, and even that wasn''t enough to sway him.


    As Michael''s expression grew darker, the baron''s anxiety deepened. Finally, the older man relented.


    "What do you want?" he asked, his tone almost pleading.


    Michael crossed his arms, weighing his options. "Three thousand gold as reparations and one hundred mana stones. Deliver them by tonight."


    The baron winced but calculated quickly. Given the barony''s size, sourcing one hundred mana stones was feasible, though it would require depleting reserves. Michael''s demand was steep but not unreasonable.


    "Why mana stones? You''re not planning to forge a cursed sword, are you? Your grandfather would never allow it."


    A cursed sword? Michael thought, connecting the dots. So that mysterious weapon really was special. But he kept his thoughts to himself. "What I do with them is my business. Will you pay, or shall we end this conversation?"

 Chapter 12 - 12 Grandfather

    After a tense silence, the baron conceded, though he grimaced. "I can give you fifty mana stones and five hundred gold. That''s the best I can do. You''ll have to be content with that."


    Michael didn''t respond, his silence a clear refusal.


    Grinding his teeth, the baron raised his offer. "Seventy mana stones, but I can''t give you more gold. Do you want the barony to collapse?"


    Michael''s eyes narrowed dangerously. Collapse? Did the baron really expect him to believe that after being cast aside twice, he should return for a paltry five hundred gold?


    Realizing his misstep, the baron hastily continued. "Fine! One hundred mana stones and seven hundred gold. That''s all I can spare. The barony''s reserves are already strained."


    Michael doubted that. For a man who had ruled for over forty years, the baron surely had hidden funds. Still, he allowed the baron to sweat as he mulled over the offer.


    Seeing Michael turn slightly away, the baron''s voice became more urgent. "What about your sisters? Should they be married off with nothing? Fine¡ªone thousand gold, plus a five-hundred-gold mana beast core. It''s a manticore''s core, fifth-tier. Consuming it will increase your mana reserves, or you can refine it into a detoxifying artifact."


    That caught Michael''s attention. A smile crept onto his face.


    "Very well. That will do. Go fetch the payment, and while you''re at it, bring Lincoln''s body. We''ll host his funeral here, free of charge. It''s only right to see him off personally."


    The baron exhaled in relief. It was a steep price, but far better than losing the barony entirely. The negotiation concluded, they parted ways. Any pretense of familial harmony was overshadowed by the gulf of mistrust between them.


    The baron delivered on his promise. Ronald personally brought a wagon to Michael''s home, laden with the agreed items. Handing over the goods, Ronald hesitated before speaking.


    "Michael," he began awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "Don''t hate the baron too much. He''s been through a lot."


    Michael barely acknowledged him, focused instead on counting the gold, mana stones, and securing the manticore core.


    Turning to the wagon, Michael retrieved Lincoln''s body, now sealed in an icy preservation spell. Placing it into a temporary coffin, Michael addressed Ronald without looking at him. S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "The funeral will be held in two days. Tell my father to be ready and prepare accordingly. It will be a family affair."


    Ronald faltered but nodded. Michael sighed and continued.


    Michael''s response to Ronald was calm, though his tone carried a touch of warmth.


    "I don''t blame my father. Everyone has their burdens. After the funeral, I''ll head to the castle. Please look out for me then, Uncle Ronald."


    Hearing the familiar childhood title, Ronald''s eyes glistened with tears. "Ah, young master Michael, you haven''t forgotten. Please, always call me that."


    Michael, uneasy at the sight of Ronald''s tearful face, quickly turned away and began moving Lincoln''s body into the workshop. Ronald''s booming promise to return soon echoed as Michael disappeared inside.


    Inside the workshop, Henry and Clara were tending to the five bodies brought in earlier. When Clara noticed Michael, she looked up, her face lined with concern.


    "So, you''re going to the castle?" she asked softly.


    "Yes," Michael replied. "I don''t have much choice. I can''t let the barony fall into the wrong hands. Don''t worry, Aunt Clara. It''s mostly for appearances. I''ll find a way to balance being an executioner and managing the estate."


    "I just don''t want you to overwork yourself," Clara said, her voice tinged with worry. "Can you really do both? Where will you stay?"


    "I''ll stay here," Michael assured her. "Being the heir doesn''t mean I need to hover around the castle all day. I can train with the knights in the mornings, return here in the afternoons, and learn the administrative work as I go. You know how quick I am at picking things up."


    Clara smiled faintly and resumed her work. "I do know. But still, don''t push yourself too hard. No matter what, we''re always here to support you."


    Michael joined them in their work, preparing the bodies for burial. As night fell, he planned to test the mana stones provided by the baron. His thoughts briefly drifted to Alfred, who hadn''t returned that evening.


    "Grandfather isn''t back yet, I see," Michael remarked.


    "He''s overseeing a funeral for the Korsik family," Clara explained. "He won''t return until tomorrow at the earliest."


    By the time they finished dressing the five bodies in clothing provided by the bereaved families, it was late into the night. Michael''s stomach growled, reminding him he hadn''t eaten properly. Over a hastily prepared meal, he listened to Henry and Clara talk before retreating to his room.


    Alone in his room, Michael took out the mana stones from the chest. The polished stones shimmered under the lamplight, their beauty belying their staggering cost.


    "One stone costs 30 gold, and it takes three just to fuel a single ability?" Michael muttered to himself, his shoulders sagging at the thought of the ever-increasing power requirements. The 100 stones he''d secured from the baron would barely last three uses before they were depleted.


    "Penelope," he called. "Absorb the mana."


    [Activation conditions met. Absorbing mana. Mana fully absorbed. Ability activation conditions not met. Function terminated.]


    Warm energy coursed through Michael''s body as the mana flowed inward. Satisfied for now, he decided to test his newfound power in the morning, focusing on the body of the eldest lumberjack among the corpses.


    Morning brought frustration. Michael had tried everything with the lumberjack''s corpse¡ªtouching it, lifting it, even inspecting it thoroughly¡ªbut nothing worked.


    [Ability activation conditions not met.]


    What was the missing condition? Growling in annoyance, Michael''s eyes landed on another lumberjack''s decapitated body. Perhaps¡­ he would need to sever a head?


    He hesitated before untying the stitches on the severed head, but even that yielded nothing.


    [Ability activation conditions not met.]


    More confused than ever, Michael sighed heavily and began re-stitching the lumberjack''s head, apologizing silently to the deceased. Afterward, he went through the other corpses in the workshop, touching and lifting them, but the result was always the same.

 Chapter 13 - 13

    [Ability activation conditions not met.]


    As his irritation grew, Michael''s gaze shifted toward the temporary coffin containing Lincoln''s body. He had avoided looking at it, unwilling to confront the mangled remains of the brother who had once shoved him off a castle wall. But now, there was no other option.


    With a deep breath, Michael opened the coffin. Lincoln''s body lay in a grotesque state, his neck torn clean from his torso. The sight stirred conflicting emotions within Michael. Though Lincoln had wronged him, he couldn''t suppress a pang of pity.


    Steeling himself, Michael reached for Lincoln''s severed head.


    [Mana fully absorbed. Activation conditions met. Would you like to resurrect this individual? Yes/No.]


    The prompt made Michael freeze. What''s the difference this time? He dismissed his curiosity, unwilling to risk reviving Lincoln.


    [10 seconds elapsed. Resurrection option expired. Would you like to extract a random ability? Yes/No.]


    "Yes!" Michael mentally shouted, closing his eyes.


    The familiar vision of a starry sky appeared, and a single bright star descended into him.


    [Extracting the ability ''Noble Demeanor'' from Lincoln von Crassus. Would you like to explore the origin of this ability?]


    Michael nodded, and Lincoln''s compressed life story played out in his mind.


    [Lincoln von Crassus took immense pride in his noble heritage. He considered refinement in dance, rhetoric, and appreciation for fine arts essential traits of nobility. Believing bloodline trumped talent, he whipped two servants to death for perceived disrespect and pushed his gifted younger brother off a castle wall. While fleeing the barony, he was caught and executed by Alfred von Vittelbach, his grandfather.]


    Michael''s breath caught. Executed? By Grandfather? Something didn''t add up. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Grandfather¡­?" Michael murmured, confusion and unease blooming in his chest.


    Michael felt cold sweat trickle down his back. Executed? Lincoln was executed by Grandfather?


    His grandfather''s words echoed in his mind: "I am the agent of vengeance and the executor of death."


    Alfred knew. He knew that his grandson Michael was dead and that his body was now occupied by someone else. The execution of Lincoln wasn''t a coincidence¡ªit was justice for Michael''s death. But when had Alfred realized the truth?


    The weight of the revelation pressed heavily on Michael. Was he next? Would Alfred include him in his list of targets for revenge? Without knowing Alfred''s exact standards for judgment, the uncertainty gnawed at him.


    Michael had only one course of action. He would confess and throw himself at his grandfather''s mercy. Running away wasn''t an option¡ªwhere could he go in a world he barely understood? And besides, wasn''t he a victim too? The body was still technically Alfred''s grandson''s, so perhaps Alfred wouldn''t kill him outright. Michael could only hope.


    "Michael, is something wrong? You look pale. Are you feeling ill?" Clara''s concerned voice pulled him back to the present.


    Michael forced a smile, trying to mask his unease. Survival required strategy. "No, Aunt Clara. I''m just worried about what to say when Grandfather gets back. Do you think he has anything he particularly likes? Maybe I could use that to break the ice."


    "Are you nervous about becoming the heir?" Clara asked gently. "He''ll understand. It''s not like you had a choice. Don''t overthink it."


    After a moment''s thought, she added, "If you want to ease the conversation, he does love his pipe. Maybe you could prepare some tobacco for him? Bring it to him and start the discussion there."


    Michael''s face brightened at the suggestion. Of course¡ªhis pipe! He could clearly picture Alfred sitting by the hearth with his pipe in hand. Why hadn''t he thought of that?


    Alfred returned later that evening, his broad shoulders slumping as he removed his hat and settled into the armchair by the fireplace. He looked weary, and Michael''s stomach churned. He knew why his grandfather was so exhausted¡ªhe had likely used those hands to take Lincoln''s life.


    Alfred''s sharp gaze didn''t miss Michael''s anxious fidgeting. In Michael''s hands was a small box.


    "What''s that?" Alfred asked gruffly.


    Michael stepped forward and handed the box to him. It contained finely shredded, high-quality tobacco leaves¡ªan expensive purchase from the market. Alfred opened it, inhaled the rich aroma, and packed his pipe with the fresh leaves. After lighting it, he took a deep drag, exhaling slowly.


    "Is there something you wish to say?" Alfred asked, his tone neutral as he observed Michael.


    Michael forced another awkward smile. "It''s... hard to talk here. Would you join me for a walk?"


    Alfred drew deeply from his pipe again before shaking his head. "Tomorrow. After the villagers'' funerals. I''m too tired tonight."


    He rose and retreated to his room, the thick wooden door creaking as it closed behind him.


    The next day, Michael stood beside Clara during the funeral, clutching a handkerchief as she dabbed her eyes. The service for the five lumberjacks was solemn but well-attended. A village clerk oversaw the proceedings, and compensation from the castle had reportedly been delivered.


    Alfred presided over the rites, his commanding voice carrying the prayers for the deceased. Michael watched in silence, his mind racing as he planned how to confess.


    "You''re the heir now," Clara whispered, handing him a small object. "Show some sincerity. This is a relic passed down through my family. They say it brings blessings to the departed. Place it on the coffins and offer a prayer."


    Michael accepted the relic, a pendant shaped like radiant light, representing the Church of Radiance. Just as he held it, that familiar, eerie voice spoke in his mind.


    [Would you like to absorb the mana?]


    No! Absolutely not! Michael shouted internally. He couldn''t damage Clara''s family heirloom.


    Following Clara''s instructions, Michael placed the pendant on each of the five coffins in turn, reciting the standard prayer that everyone in the land knew. While his family followed a different faith centered on death and vengeance, the Church of Radiance was so widespread that its rituals weren''t foreign to them.


    After the ceremony, Michael retreated to a secluded spot behind the annex. Once alone, he finally let out a stifled cry of pain.

 Chapter 14 - 14 You Called Me

    "Damn it¡­ it hurts so much."


    His palm bore a dark burn in the exact shape of the pendant. The moment he had refused the offer to absorb mana, a searing pain had erupted in his hand.


    Shivers ran down his spine. What is this? Am I cursed? The memory of that grotesque woman from his dream resurfaced, sending fresh waves of fear through him.


    He resolved to investigate. There might be clues in the family''s collection of books. If not, he''d have to look in the castle''s library.


    After applying a quick poultice to his burned hand, Michael approached Alfred, who had just finished overseeing the funeral. Despite his fear, Michael knew he had to tell the truth.


    Alfred and Michael walked in silence along the forest trail. The only sounds were the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant rustling of branches. Michael was the first to break the silence.


    "Grandfather," he began, his voice steady despite the tension in his chest. "Have you heard the news? My brother Lincoln is dead, and I''ve been named the heir to the barony."


    Alfred''s jet-black eyes, inscrutable as always, fixated on Michael.


    "I already know. It is your rightful claim. You don''t need to explain it to me."


    Michael hesitated before speaking. "But I don''t want to leave home. I was thinking... maybe I could commute to the castle for training and administration?"


    Alfred paused, considering the suggestion before shaking his head. "Living here while traveling back and forth daily would be unreasonable. You''ll move into the castle. Your uncle and aunt will accompany you to settle in. I''ll finish my tasks here and follow shortly."


    A weight lifted slightly off Michael''s chest. If he wouldn''t be entirely separated from his family, moving into the castle might not be so bad.


    He drew a deep breath. It was time to broach the real topic.


    "Grandfather... have you ever heard stories about people waking up in someone else''s body after a near-death experience? Or finding themselves in an entirely different world?"


    Alfred came to an abrupt halt. Michael nearly bumped into his back before steadying himself.


    "...Is that what happened to you?"


    The unspoken wall of pretense between them shattered. Michael had no more room to back away now. Would Alfred treat him like a stranger? Cast him out?


    For a fleeting moment, Michael''s mind raced with horrifying images¡ªbeing exorcised like an evil spirit, his existence wiped away by some holy rite.


    Then Alfred spoke.


    "There''s no need to explain. I summoned you."


    Michael blinked in shock, his head snapping up to meet Alfred''s gaze. What does he mean by that?


    "When you fell from the wall and entered a coma, I had only one option left: to bring you back. The ritual succeeded, and you woke. I don''t know where you came from or what kind of life you lived before. But one thing is certain¡ªyou cannot summon a soul that is not linked to the body. Whether your memories are from a past life or the life ahead, you are still my grandson. So don''t be afraid. I will never harm you."


    Relief washed over Michael, so profound it made his knees weak. He was safe.


    The question of whether he was Michael''s reincarnation or an interloper faded into irrelevance. Whatever the case, Alfred acknowledged him as his grandson.


    The two sat on a fallen tree trunk.


    "Do Uncle and Aunt Clara know about this?" Michael asked cautiously.


    "They don''t need to. Unless you choose to reveal it, no one else will know. And I''d prefer you live as Michael."


    That made sense. Having accepted his situation, Michael resolved to embrace this life fully.


    "How did you figure it out? That I wasn''t... the original Michael?"


    "I can see through to the essence of things. But don''t worry¡ªno one else can discern it unless they''ve been intimately familiar with you."


    Michael fidgeted, tracing patterns in the dirt with his shoe. He looked up hesitantly.


    "Can I still call you Grandfather?"


    "Of course. You''re my grandson. Who else would call me that?"


    Alfred''s voice was gruff but carried a warmth that made Michael''s chest ache.


    "In your old world, what kind of life did you live?" Alfred asked, his tone even.


    "I was much older than I am now. An orphan¡ªI never knew my parents, and I never married. But I worked hard and lived decently. The world I came from was more advanced than this one¡ªno social classes, lots of advanced technology. I was a soldier, piloting something called a ''fighter jet.'' It''s like an artifact that flies. My last memory is showing off some aerial maneuvers before crashing... and waking up here."


    Alfred was silent for a moment before asking, "Do you regret ending up here?"


    Michael met his grandfather''s gaze squarely. "Not at all. Never."


    After sending Michael back home, Alfred continued his walk deeper into the forest.


    A rustling sound came from the bushes behind him.


    "Mrow."


    A small black kitten emerged, its emerald eyes gleaming. Its fur was sleek as ink, and it moved with deliberate grace.


    "Alfred, why didn''t you tell him the whole truth?" Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The kitten''s words were unmistakably human, yet Alfred showed no surprise.


    "What truth didn''t I tell him?" Alfred responded flatly.


    "He''s Michael''s soul, but not entirely. You have a duty, don''t you? To eliminate the foreign entity. Why are you keeping him alive?"


    Alfred raised his hand, and dark tendrils of shadow snaked out, enveloping the kitten and lifting it into the air.


    "Eek! What are you doing?! You can''t punish someone just for speaking their mind!"


    "He is my grandson. Say one more word, and I will not be so lenient."


    The kitten flailed its legs helplessly before being dropped unceremoniously to the ground.


    "Fine! But what if the foreign deity claims him? What will you do then? By then, it''ll be too late!"


    Alfred''s voice was icy and resolute. "I will seal her myself."

 Chapter 15 - 15

    "I won''t help you!" the kitten yowled. "You''re on your own. Binding me with that ridiculous contract was already bad enough!"


    Shadow surged from Alfred''s hand, menacingly close to the kitten.


    "If Michael comes to harm while I''m away..."


    The kitten whimpered, its ears flattening. "F-fine! But you''ll owe me! One gold coin a day, fresh meat for every meal, and two liters of milk!"


    Alfred''s tone was indifferent. "You start once Michael leaves for the castle. Remember your duty."


    With its tail dragging, the kitten trudged back into the woods, grumbling as it went.


    Behind it, Alfred murmured to himself.


    "I just don''t want to make the same mistake again. Never again..."


    Michael entered the house with an uncharacteristic lightness in his step. The world seemed brighter, colors more vivid, and even the air carried a sweet aroma. To be accepted for who he was, without needing to distinguish between his past and present selves, was a revelation.


    But above all, his grandfather had acknowledged him as family. As someone abandoned at an orphanage with no trace of his origins, even being able to claim the most common surname felt like a hollow privilege. Now, he had a family¡ªtrue kin.


    His father''s aloofness and his brother''s betrayal were minor details compared to the love and support of his aunt, uncle, and a grandfather willing to summon his very soul from another realm. Michael''s heart swelled with gratitude as he stepped into the house, but an unusual silence greeted him.


    "Uncle? Aunt Clara?"


    Realizing where they must be, Michael''s expression softened. "They''re probably working on Lincoln''s body," he thought.


    With slight hesitation, Michael made his way to the separate annex. Despite the bitterness of their relationship and Lincoln''s attempts to kill him, Michael felt compelled to pay his respects. After all, Lincoln had unknowingly left Michael a valuable gift: the ability, "Nobility''s Refinement."


    His body now moved with an elegance he had never known. He instinctively understood the art of formal dining, the nuances of escorting a lady, and even the rhythm of a proper waltz. If anything, Michael almost felt indebted to his late brother.


    The annex was abuzz with quiet yet focused activity. Uncle Henry worked alongside Aunt Clara, meticulously preparing Lincoln''s remains. The sight of Lincoln''s reassembled body made Michael pause. Clara''s touch had transformed Lincoln''s once-terrified expression into a semblance of serene sleep. His severed neck had been expertly stitched, and his face was smoothed to near perfection.


    Michael joined them, assisting with the final preparations. The outfit provided by the castle¡ªa frilled shirt and tights¡ªsuited Lincoln''s scholarly and delicate features.


    The next day, Lincoln''s modest funeral brought together the remnants of the Crassus family. Present were the baron, Michael''s father; Lincoln''s full-blood sister, Elizabeth; and their younger half-sisters, Phoebe and Kate, who were twins.


    Michael silently observed the gathering. A family where siblings shared multiple mothers, where half-brothers attempted murder¡ªit was the epitome of dysfunction. Elizabeth, as the eldest daughter, took the position of hostess in the absence of a baroness. Though she wasn''t particularly close to Lincoln, her sense of propriety dictated her actions.


    The twins, only fifteen and deeply sentimental, seemed detached from the somber atmosphere. Their limited interactions with Lincoln, coupled with their awareness of his disdain for their merchant-class maternal heritage, left them with little sorrow for his passing.


    After a brief eulogy, the family took turns laying flowers on Lincoln''s casket. Michael followed suit, placing a rose from the castle''s greenhouse. His solemn expression seemed to embody forgiveness and compassion, elevating his presence to something almost saintly.


    Even Elizabeth, who often harbored mixed feelings about her half-brother, couldn''t deny Michael''s striking appearance. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, seemingly more captivated by Michael than consumed by grief.


    After the ceremony, the family retired to share refreshments. The atmosphere was strained, their relationships as cold as the weather. Elizabeth and Clara were the only ones engaging in polite conversation. They exchanged compliments on attire and shared household tips while the rest of the family sat in awkward silence.


    The baron finally broke the tension.


    "Well, now that Michael is assuming the role of heir, there will be many changes. Elizabeth, you''re of age now; it''s time to think about marriage. When Michael goes to the capital for his formal registration, you should accompany him to find a suitable match."


    Elizabeth stiffened, her striking blue eyes narrowing. Her words, though measured, carried an edge.


    "I''ll maintain my dignity by keeping this brief, Father. I don''t believe traveling to the capital is necessary for finding a husband."


    The baron frowned. "And what options do you think this backwater offers? You''ll never find a worthy match here."


    Elizabeth''s beauty was renowned in neighboring territories, and the baron held high hopes for a prestigious alliance.


    "If there''s no one suitable, I''ll remain here and bring in a knight as a consort. It would solve multiple problems at once. Besides, Phoebe and Kate are younger¡ªthey have better prospects in the capital."


    The twins, who had been quietly nibbling on pastries, suddenly became defensive.


    "Excuse me? Are you trying to get rid of us, Elizabeth?"


    "She''s the prettiest one¡ªshe should go," Phoebe added, her voice dripping with sarcasm.


    Kate chimed in, "Yeah, we know our limits. No way we''re getting matched with a capital noble."


    The twins'' sharp retorts reflected their disinterest in leaving their home and the safety it offered. They''d already experienced the judgment and condescension directed at their merchant-born mother.


    Meanwhile, Michael observed the exchange without a word. The baron''s increasingly strained attempts to foster unity among his children only highlighted their disconnection. Michael, watching from the sidelines, couldn''t help but view the situation with a mix of pity and amusement. S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 16 - 16 Its a Racial Trait!

    The baron was utterly defeated.


    Elizabeth''s sharp wit and the twins'' cheeky remarks left him grasping for control. Though he wanted nothing more than to see at least one of his daughters married off, forcing the matter would only backfire.


    In hindsight, Elizabeth''s suggestion wasn''t entirely unreasonable. Rather than pouring resources into debuting her in the capital''s cutthroat social scene, it might be wiser to find a skilled knight nearby and bring him into the family as a consort.


    As he began to entertain this alternative, the atmosphere shifted. There was tension brewing, and the baron couldn''t shake the unease that had begun to gnaw at him.


    Turning to Michael, he asked, "When will you be moving to the castle?"


    "Two or three days should be enough to prepare," Michael replied with a calm confidence.


    At least his last remaining son was cooperative, even if the baron knew that cooperation had come at a steep financial cost.


    Once the baron and his family returned to the castle, Clara eagerly helped Michael pack.


    Knowing she and Henry would be accompanying him, her excitement was palpable.


    She hummed a light tune as she folded clothes and organized belongings, her joy infectious.


    Michael couldn''t help but smile at her enthusiasm. This time, returning to the castle would be different. No longer an outsider, Michael was the heir¡ªand the family''s investment in securing his goodwill extended to those he cared about.


    The morning''s funeral and Alfred''s cryptic words echoed in his mind: "I''ll ensure you claim everything that''s rightfully yours."


    Moving into the castle with his aunt and uncle was the first step in realizing that promise.


    Once packing was done, Michael grabbed his sword and bow to head outside.


    Strength and skill were paramount, especially now. In a land rife with territorial disputes and tribal skirmishes, an heir who couldn''t defend his claim would be devoured.


    Determined to excel, Michael practiced until his muscles ached and his breath came in gasps. The effort left him proud, the satisfaction of improvement radiating through him.


    As he returned to the house, he was greeted by an unexpected sight: Clara playing with a kitten in the living room.


    The tiny black cat, adorned with a red ribbon, batted at its own tail with playful enthusiasm.


    "Where''d the cat come from?" Michael asked, intrigued.


    "I found her while hanging laundry. She wobbled over to me, poor thing, so I gave her some milk. She was so hungry! I think she''s just a kitten and might have lost her mother. Isn''t she adorable? I thought we could keep her."


    The kitten, as if understanding the conversation, tilted her head and let out a soft meow.


    "Meow?"


    Michael laughed. "She''s a cute one, all right. Can I hold her?"


    Clara handed over the kitten, who fit snugly in Michael''s hands. Her fur was impossibly soft, like silk, and her weight felt oddly substantial for such a small creature.


    "She''s so light," Michael said, stroking her gently as she stretched lazily in his arms.


    "Have you named her yet?"


    "Not yet. Would you like to?"


    "How about Nyangnyang? She meows so much, it seems fitting¡ªow!"


    The kitten, as if offended, extended her claws and scrambled up Michael''s shoulder.


    "She likes it!" Michael declared, laughing as the kitten perched and purred.


    "Look! She''s wagging her tail. That means she''s happy, right?"


    Clara hesitated. "I think... I''ve heard cats wag their tails when they''re annoyed..."


    Michael shrugged. "She''s just playful. Aren''t you, Nyangnyang?"


    Despite her doubts, Clara didn''t press the issue. If Nyangnyang brought Michael joy, that was enough.


    To her surprise, Alfred welcomed the kitten as well. He even instructed them to feed her meat and fresh milk daily. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Nyangnyang quickly made herself at home, following Michael wherever he went. At night, she curled up at his feet, her warmth a comforting presence.


    While Michael slept, Nyangnyang slipped out to find Alfred.


    Her emerald eyes glinted in the moonlight as she confronted him.


    "You heard him!" she hissed.


    Alfred, calm as ever, merely raised an eyebrow. "Heard what?"


    "My name! He dared to call me Nyangnyang!"


    Alfred''s lips twitched, but he suppressed his laughter. "It''s a charming name."


    "Charming? It''s humiliating! Tell him my real name or I''m leaving!"


    Alfred''s expression hardened. "You signed a contract, Sphinx. Or have you forgotten the meat, milk, and gold you''ve received?"


    The kitten, bristling with indignation, hissed again. "It''s Neferteri Hatshepsut Sphinx, not Nyangnyang! Do you understand how degrading this is?"


    "And yet here you are, meowing. It suits you."


    Her hissing turned into a full-blown snarl. "That''s a racial trait, not my choice!"


    Alfred''s rare chuckle echoed in the quiet forest.


    As the moon hung high, Michael slept soundly, blissfully unaware of the drama surrounding his new companion.


    The next day, Michael entered the castle with a black cat perched haughtily on his shoulder. Attempts to remove the feline were futile, as it bared its claws and growled threateningly whenever disturbed.


    Clara and Henry accompanied him. They had agreed to use the castle''s basement for their work when necessary. Since the previous executioners had also conducted their tasks within the castle, no special preparations were required.


    Arriving at the castle in their carriage, they were greeted by the butler and head maid, who guided them to their respective rooms. Michael''s accommodations were better than during his previous visits. Located on the third floor, his room overlooked the training grounds and had multiple windows, making it both spacious and well-ventilated.


    After inspecting Clara''s and Henry''s quarters and finding them satisfactory, Michael nodded with approval. It was clear that the treatment they received had noticeably improved.


    Sometime later, the butler escorted Michael to the baron''s office. The baron stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing out the window.


    "You''ve arrived just in time. But what''s with the cat?" he asked.


    Michael explained the situation, prompting the baron to add, "Well, keeping a pet is fine, but don''t let it interfere with your training. Now that you''re fully immersed in the noble world, there are some things you must keep in mind. The political situation within and around our castle is very complicated. You''re aware that our territory, along with five others, recently separated from the Earl of Barkley, aren''t you?

 Chapter 17 - 17 The Answer Ends with

    "Our castle is part of the northeastern region. The court count responsible for this area is from the Woodlock family, and Count Woodlock is a loyal servant of His Majesty the King. However, there''s little need to concern yourself with him¡ªhe holds only an honorary title and resides in the northeastern palace without actual dominion. The true power in the region is Count Charles. He''s as ambitious as he is capable, so be cautious around him.


    "Sigh¡­ If only I had more time to properly train you as my successor¡­"


    Michael, puzzled by the baron''s lament about insufficient time for successor training, soon learned the reason.


    "A critical report arrived yesterday. A group of deranged cultists has settled on the outskirts of Crowley Barony and massacred two villages in succession. Baron Crowley sought aid from both Count Woodlock and Count Charles, and all five neighboring territories have been ordered to join the subjugation effort. As the heir of this domain and a knight, you must accompany me in this expedition. Among the cultists are necromancers, so they won''t be easy foes."


    Michael remained unshaken, having anticipated such developments. In this era, there was even a saying: "Wars grow like barley sprouts," highlighting their frequency. Wars were as common as the barley harvest, be it between kingdoms, empires, or noble factions vying for territory.


    Although this was a subjugation rather than a war, the gathering of northeastern nobles ensured inevitable conflicts. Without the fantastical elements like magic and aura, Michael might have doubted whether he had been reborn in a medieval era. Except for the foreign Pamir Empire, a federation of tribes, the Rubel Continent resembled medieval Europe to a fault.


    "When will we set out?" Michael inquired.


    "We''ll depart at dawn in a week and head to the Kensington Barony, where we''ll join the other reinforcements. There''s no need to go early and become fodder for arrows. Prepare accordingly. The butler will provide you with the promised items. Also, select a couple of squires¡ªthey''re all direct descendants of our vassals and will be of great assistance."


    It was a wise decision. There was no need to take unnecessary risks by leading the vanguard.


    After receiving growth-enhancing elixirs and armor from the butler, Michael headed to the stables. There, a black horse with a massive, imposing frame stood alone, snorting aggressively in one corner.


    The stable master cleared his throat. "That one, sir. It''s got quite the temper. I''m not sure you can tame it within a week. If not, you''ll have to ride another horse."


    Michael locked eyes with the spirited animal as the cat on his shoulder tensed. Climbing onto the horse, he immediately felt the power of its rippling muscles. It was a fine horse. Although it resisted briefly, Michael exerted firm pressure with his thighs, and the animal quickly submitted.


    After circling the training grounds a few times, Michael glanced at the stable master, who stood gaping at the sight. "It''s completely tame. Was it handled incorrectly?" Michael questioned.


    The horse lowered itself to assist Michael''s dismount and followed his commands effortlessly, never requiring a whip. What part of this horse had a bad temperament?


    "Well, it seems it recognizes its master," the stable master stammered. "Everyone else who tried to ride it got thrown off immediately."


    Though the stable master had spent fifty years around horses, he was at a loss for words at Michael''s seamless bond with the animal.


    "So, what''s its name?" the stable master asked. "I can have it engraved on the saddle."


    After a moment''s thought, Michael replied, "Bucephalus." The name matched that of the famous horse of a legendary conqueror from a past life.


    The stable master, Paul, nodded approvingly, finding the name fitting. After riding Bucephalus a few more laps around the training grounds, Michael dismounted, feeling refreshed. Nothing beat exercise for lifting one''s spirits.


    At a well by the training grounds, Michael splashed his face with cold water when Sir Ronald approached, leading a group of a dozen children. The youngsters, visibly tense, stood in silence.


    A knight required at least two squires to assist with tasks such as donning and removing armor, calming and grooming horses after battle, and maintaining weapons. These children, selected from the kin of vassals, were undoubtedly talented.


    As squires, they would have a high chance of becoming knights themselves, learning swordsmanship and gaining experience under their knight''s guidance. On the battlefield, trust in one''s retainers was paramount. A squire was expected to protect their knight, even at the cost of their own life.


    There was a reason that direct descendants or close relatives of loyal vassals were traditionally chosen as squires. The boys standing before Michael ranged from twelve to fifteen years old. They were noticeably taller and sturdier than the average commoners, likely due to better upbringing and nourishment.


    Contemplating how to select his squires, Michael decided on an elimination method. He first made the boys run laps around the training grounds while wearing sandbags to assess their basic stamina. From there, he chose six boys with the best endurance and held a tournament to finalize the selection.


    The boys ran with fierce determination. Watching their desperate efforts, Michael felt a twinge of sympathy. Bringing children this young to the battlefield was far from ideal. Naturally, the older boys had an advantage when it came to stamina, but Michael was determined not to take excessively young squires to war.


    In this harsh, survival-of-the-fittest world, risk was inevitable for those seeking to rise. The boys understood this and threw themselves into the competition as if their lives depended on it. For many, this was a chance to elevate their families and secure even a small parcel of land.


    Eventually, six boys returned to the starting line while the rest collapsed onto the ground, swallowing their tears. The tournament began with wooden swords and ended quickly. Michael named Alex, the winner, and Antony, the runner-up, as his squires. Together, they accompanied him to observe the soldiers'' training. sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    What Michael saw left him stunned. The soldiers'' skills were abysmal¡ªworse than he had imagined. Their basic drills were chaotic, and their clumsy handling of spears, with their backsides sticking out awkwardly, was laughable.

 Chapter 18 - 18

    To Michael, who had lived as a modern military officer, the current training methods were crude and haphazard. There was no structure, no professionalism. Skills like swordsmanship, spear techniques, and shield usage were passed down exclusively among nobles, resulting in soldiers being little more than disposable meat shields on the battlefield. They served as barriers to buy time for knights to charge.


    This would not do. Michael needed well-trained soldiers. He wondered if the low standard was unique to his family''s troops or if it reflected the era''s overall military capabilities. Seeking answers, he headed to a library tucked away in a corner of the castle.


    The so-called library was pitifully small, with few books, suggesting a lack of interest in learning among his ancestors. The collection consisted solely of military-related volumes. Michael picked up Introduction to Military Science and began reading. As he suspected, the book''s slim size reflected the near absence of proper training methods or tactics in this era.


    This had to change. As a former air force officer and fighter pilot, Michael felt it was his duty to resolve the situation.


    "Did you all skip breakfast? Why are your responses so weak? Sweating now is better than bleeding on the battlefield. You there, fourth from the left in the second row! Yes, you! Can''t you perform the drill properly?"


    It was winter, yet Michael''s back was drenched in sweat as he barked orders. Jonathan, the second son of a baker who had defied his mother''s protests to become a soldier, began to regret his decision with every fiber of his being. Just three days ago, it had seemed like a cushy job¡ªthree square meals a day and minimal effort, swinging a spear a few times at dawn and dusk.


    Now, the situation was sheer torture. Jumping jacks, squatting runs around the training grounds, and synchronized sit-stand drills were just the beginning. The "demon" leading the training seemed unfazed by the sight of exhausted soldiers collapsing in pain.


    "All responses end with ''Ack!'' Understood, soldiers?" Michael commanded.


    "Ack!" they shouted.


    "Yes!" some replied hesitantly.


    "I said it ends with ''Ack!'' Anyone who replied with ''Yes,'' step forward!"


    Jonathan''s heart sank as tears blurred his vision. Trembling, he stepped forward, spotting his neighbor Hans in the same predicament. At least he wasn''t alone.


    Punished with yet another grueling lap, Jonathan, drenched in sweat and possibly tears, grabbed Hans''s arm to pull him back. "Sorry, my friend," he muttered under his breath. "I have to survive."


    The training was relentless. Even Michael''s squires, five years younger but physically larger, were merciless in their role of disciplining the soldiers. Jonathan began to understand why all responses had to end with "Ack!"¡ªit came naturally under such duress.


    Michael observed the scene with satisfaction. In just three days, these ragtag troops had started to form ranks and follow orders with some semblance of discipline. The soldiers'' standardized supplies were another accomplishment. Remembering the chaotic assortment of belongings they had initially brought¡ªsome even lugging thick winter blankets¡ªstill made his head spin.


    Under Michael''s system, each soldier was issued one blanket, one towel, four cloths, a spoon, a fork, a canteen, three changes of underwear, and thermal shirts. Additional items, like multi-layered quilted combat vests, thick cloaks that doubled as ground sheets, and waterproofed paper, were provided to ensure preparedness.


    With help from the castle''s mage, Sergey, Michael had also designed backpacks. Once packed with the issued supplies, the soldiers'' gear began to resemble proper military kits.


    Watching his son drill the troops, the baron felt a swell of pride. Truly, this was his child. The baron marveled at Michael''s ingenuity, wondering how he had come up with such ideas. Knowledge was the most difficult thing to acquire in this world, especially military knowledge, often guarded as family secrets by powerful noble houses. For a family like theirs, with little inherited wisdom, organized training and provisioning were groundbreaking achievements.


    The baron instructed a scribe to observe and document Michael''s training methods. This knowledge must be passed down to future generations.


    After a week of rigorous military training, it was finally time to depart.


    The baron climbed the watchtower and surveyed the gathered soldiers. Before him stood seventy trained domain soldiers and thirty conscripted serf soldiers, arranged in orderly rows and columns. Their tense faces betrayed their unease, and their spears pointed toward the sky, gripped tightly in nervous hands.


    The domain soldiers, hardened by Michael''s grueling training, carried large shields and spears tailored to the tactics he had taught them. While the serf soldiers were similarly armed, their equipment and skills were far inferior. The gap between the two groups was undeniable. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Like the baron, the other lords had likely gathered only the minimum number of troops required. With all five baronies combined, the force was expected to total around 500 soldiers. The inclusion of Count Charles and other nobles with their retinues should make this number sufficient.


    The serf soldiers among the recruits were volunteers, motivated by the dream of winning glory and securing freedom for their families. In a world where knowledge was scarce, war remained one of the few accessible paths to social mobility. Among them were a few individuals with unusual backgrounds¡ªcaptives from the Pamir Empire who had been enslaved after failing to pay their ransom. These individuals now fought on the front lines for a chance at freedom.


    The domain soldiers, in contrast, were mostly freemen who resided within the castle, receiving regular wages and provisions. Thanks to Michael''s rigorous drilling, they now exuded discipline and confidence. There had been no forced conscriptions¡ªneither freemen, valuable taxpayers, nor serfs, crucial as a labor force, were to be mistreated. These individuals could flee to neighboring territories at any time, making coercion a risky and counterproductive strategy.


    Nearby, supply officers loaded food and materials onto wagons pulled by packhorses. Since neither Count Woodlock nor Count Charles was likely to compensate for expenses or manpower, it was essential to ensure that the barony gained some profit from this expedition.

 Chapter 19 - 19 Time to Play the Game

    Cutting down the cultists and reclaiming resources from the ravaged territories would require swift action, but they also had to avoid standing out too much, lest they become targets themselves. The delicate balance of inter-baronial politics promised a fierce contest of wits.


    The baron turned to Michael, his expression grave. News had arrived only yesterday that the cultists had not merely ravaged two villages but had overtaken the entirety of Crowley Barony.


    "How do you plan to deploy the guards?" the baron asked.


    Unlike the regular soldiers, the guards were the military backbone of the domain, trained in swordsmanship and essential to its defense. A significant loss among the guards would deal a critical blow to the barony, whereas the soldiers and serf troops could sustain moderate casualties without jeopardizing its foundation.


    "No matter how poorly defended Crowley Barony might have been, if they overran two villages and captured the castle, the enemy won''t be easy to defeat," Michael replied. "Unfortunately, the late arrival of this information means the soldiers'' training is still lacking. To compensate, I''ve assigned one guard for every ten soldiers, appointing them as unit leaders. Additionally, the supply convoy will include mages and healers for protection, along with ten guards. That should suffice."


    "Well done," the baron acknowledged. Then, after a pause, he asked, "What do you make of the fact that we only received this news on the eve of our departure?"


    The answer was clear to Michael. A faint smirk crossed his face.


    "Whether it''s Count Woodlock or Count Charles, someone seems intent on weakening the five baronies. Otherwise, this information wouldn''t have been so restricted. Given that Count Woodlock has no ties to this land, it''s likely Count Charles''s handiwork."


    The baron felt a swell of pride as he observed his son''s sharp judgment.


    "Exactly," the baron said. "The cultists have been rebelling for three weeks now. Crowley, situated right next to Count Charles''s territory, must have sought his aid. That he turned a blind eye to this calamity speaks volumes about his intentions. And now, there are no survivors among Crowley Barony''s retainers."


    Michael''s eyes glinted with realization.


    "If there are no survivors from the Crowley family¡­"


    Unlike the newer baronies of the five domains, the Crowley lineage was famed for its ancient heritage and valuable estates. For Count Charles, who had long coveted the Crowley Barony, the cultist rebellion presented an excellent opportunity. It was likely he intended to use the cultists to weaken other nobles and then absorb the barony into his domain.


    "It''s possible that the cultists were acting on Count Charles''s orders," Michael speculated.


    "Surely not," the baron said skeptically. "Could Count Charles be that calculating?"


    Michael smiled knowingly. The one who benefits most from a disaster is often the perpetrator. It was better to remain cautious and guarded than to be blindsided.


    "Perhaps," Michael replied. "But for now, we should focus on fortifying our position. Instead of taking unnecessary risks for glory, it''s wiser to secure gains from the shadows. If this subjugation weakens the other baronies, it will only benefit us."


    Their objective was clear: conserve their strength and seize advantages discreetly. It was a strategy that might draw criticism, but in a world where power decided everything, survival equaled strength. There was no need to risk their lives for Crowley Barony''s wealth or Count Charles''s ambitions.


    "Indeed," the baron agreed. "It''s better to bide our time and emerge victorious in the end."


    They exchanged smiles, finding mutual satisfaction in their cunning plan.


    "I''ll leave the responsibility of commanding this expedition to you," the baron said. "I''ll support you from behind. Sir Ronald is too focused on brute force to be suitable as a commander."


    The baron, who had often worn himself thin managing both command and administration during past expeditions, found this arrangement preferable. With Michael taking the lead, he could now focus on assisting his son. Whether the barony thrived under his rule or Michael''s, it would still be a shared legacy.


    "Yes," Michael replied. "Training the soldiers on the way should improve their quality, even if only slightly."


    Though he pitied the soldiers who would endure relentless drills during the journey, it was necessary for the barony''s survival. Michael also understood that the baron embodied the archetype of a "modern" knight¡ªpolitically astute but militarily inadequate.


    Here is the translation of the second part of Chapter 11, rewritten in the third-person narrative style:


    The Crassus family''s success rate in war had always been mediocre. Their survival strategy hinged on only charging at knights of comparable rank. By unspoken agreement, knights would bow to one another, assume their stances, and then charge forward with their squires'' assistance. Victory was a relief, while defeat merely required a ransom payment for release. Occasionally, an unlucky knight would be trampled by a horse or skewered by a spear, but the baron had managed to avoid such misfortunes.


    Sir Ronald, however, was a different case. Known for combining intelligence with strength, he had never lost a duel against knights of a higher rank. Half of the indemnities earned during wartime came from his victories.


    Michael, however, intended to put an end to this reckless approach to warfare. It wasn''t that the people of this world were ignorant¡ªit simply wasn''t yet an era of strategy and tactics. Michael knew he couldn''t entirely avoid charges. Refusing a duel between knights would brand him a coward and a disgrace to nobility. Even so, he wouldn''t be the first to rush into battle for glory. To him, the notions of knightly honor and valor were nothing but nonsense.


    Michael''s plan was simple: follow the lead of those in front. If the unfortunate knight ahead won, so would he; if that knight lost, Michael would simply run a bit faster to avoid the same fate. In this subjugation campaign, he had to prioritize his own survival.


    This time, the enemy wasn''t another noble. In battles between nobles, the loser paid a ransom. Against the cultists, what might be demanded was Michael''s head. Having been given a second chance at life, Michael intended to live long and rise in status.


    S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 20 - 20

    The Crassus family was a minor barony. Alongside the other four baronies, they formed a small cluster of influence, a minuscule faction within the broader kingdom.


    After considering these thoughts, Michael signaled to the messenger. As the signal flag waved, the 100 soldiers and supply unit began their march. Mage Sergey and healer Hope followed closely behind. The baron and Michael descended from the watchtower and mounted their horses. On the saddle before Michael sat Nyangnyang, his beloved cat. The cat had refused to eat the food prepared by the maids, curling up instead, so Michael had no choice but to bring it along. Fond of the clever and affectionate feline, Michael worried it might starve in his absence. He planned to let the cat roam freely in the camp, which would be safe¡ªafter all, if the camp were breached, no one would survive.


    The journey was grueling. The soldiers endured relentless harassment from their "devil" trainers, who now numbered ten per group. Whenever the formation faltered, a trainer would appear seemingly out of nowhere to kick it back into order. Soldiers struggled to keep their provisions from reappearing on the ground, barely managing under the punishing drills.


    Michael watched with frustration. Though the soldiers had undergone a week of training, they still failed to meet his standards. What had appeared to be a disciplined force at the start of the march devolved over time. Michael realized he had to tighten their discipline before they reached the assembly point.


    Reluctantly, he adjusted the marching pace, mindful of the soldiers carrying their three-day emergency rations and full packs. Beating them into submission alone wouldn''t suffice. Slowing the pace yielded noticeable improvement in their formation. Though far from perfect, they now resembled a marching army rather than a haphazard mob.


    Thanks to their standardized uniforms and packs, they looked more cohesive¡ªthough Michael suspected that before his reforms, they must have resembled a train of peddlers.


    The guards, composed mostly of vassals'' sons, glanced nervously at Michael. Gone were the days when they only needed to worry about their own survival. Having endured ten times the hardship of the soldiers during training, they couldn''t help but tread carefully around Michael.


    By Michael''s standards, the troops were still a ragtag bunch, though better than most other forces. At the very least, they hadn''t pillaged villages along their route like locusts, a common practice among poorly disciplined troops.


    Michael repeatedly emphasized the importance of maintaining formation. Even so, villagers fled in terror at the sight of the approaching soldiers. The extent of past pillaging was evident¡ªlocals treated the soldiers as if they were specters. Villagers knelt and wailed whenever the soldiers stopped to replenish their water supplies. Their emaciated faces and cracked hands tugged at Michael''s conscience.


    During the march, they encountered several wandering warriors¡ªmen seeking to earn recognition in battle and ascend to knighthood. Most were distant relatives of noble families, lacking the aptitude to become knights through training alone. These warriors roamed battlefields, hoping to gain experience and awaken their potential. While few achieved the coveted aura awakening, they still clung to their dreams.


    Through conversations with these warriors, Michael realized something strange. What he considered a tortoise-like march was perceived by the warriors as remarkably fast. Arriving too quickly might leave a strong impression, but it also increased the risk of becoming the first target. Michael further slowed their pace.


    He ensured the troops marched during daylight and rested late into the morning. In the evenings, they hunted for fresh game, preparing hearty meals with warm soups and portions of meat¡ªeven the serf soldiers received some.


    The wandering warriors provided Michael with valuable information. The cultists occupying Crowley Barony worshipped an "outer god"¡ªa terrifying spider goddess said to have the upper body of a beautiful woman and the lower body of a spider. Such a deity would indeed inspire fear. S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In this world, outer gods were universally reviled. They were said to pierce the material plane, luring humans with cursed whispers, bestowing abilities, and claiming them as followers. The mention of the spider goddess reminded Michael of a certain whispering woman, though he found no records matching her description. He didn''t want to dwell on the possibility of her connection to an outer god¡ªit was a daunting thought.


    When outer gods were confirmed to appear, the Radiant Church would dispatch priests and holy knights. With declining numbers of followers due to corruption among their leadership, the church was desperate for victories.


    After ten days, the troops arrived at Kensington Barony, having covered approximately 90 kilometers at a leisurely pace. They were the fourth of the five baronies to arrive¡ªperfect timing.


    As Michael watched the soldiers set up camp, his squire, Antony, the treasurer''s youngest son, approached with a message.


    "Master Michael, an invitation to a banquet from Baron Kensington has arrived. Baron Aramund has just arrived as the last to join us."


    The time had come to play the nobles'' game.


    Jonathan, the second son of a baker from the Crassus Barony, grumbled as he nibbled on his ration of dark bread. Made from a mix of barley and rye, the bread was dry and flavorless. He found himself longing for the meat broth that accompanied their hardtack during the march.


    The bakery in Kensington Barony must have been incompetent¡ªor lacked integrity. The bread even had sand in it, whether from careless milling or deliberate adulteration. Jonathan wondered if the issue lay with the guild overseeing the bakeries or with this particular establishment.


    As he grumbled with his friend Hans, a rough-looking soldier approached. It was Harry, a frequent debtor to Jonathan''s family bakery.


    "Hey, Jonathan, did you hear the news?" Harry asked. "About Crowley Barony? Those cultist bastards have completely taken over."


    Jonathan managed to swallow his unpalatable bread before responding. "Last I heard, they''d overrun two villages. Now they''ve taken the whole barony? Isn''t that dangerous?"


    "Dangerous, sure. But think about it¡ªthe whole barony! There''s plenty to loot," Harry said, his eyes gleaming.

 Chapter 21 - 21 Trust Me This Once

    Jonathan''s imagination ran wild. He could already picture himself as a wealthy man, his family flush with gold from the plundered riches of Crowley Barony. This was exactly why he had defied his family''s protests and enlisted as a soldier: not just for the steady wages and three meals a day, but for the chance to earn extra income. One day, he could feast on fine white bread instead of this dark, coarse loaf.


    The subjugation campaign would be risky, but the greater the risk, the greater the reward. If he distinguished himself, perhaps he could even become a member of the barony''s guards. With more effort, he might be trained in swordsmanship and eventually knighted.


    "Don''t get your hopes too high," said an older soldier nearby. Clearly a veteran of past campaigns, the man added, "This isn''t going to be easy. If you want to earn any glory, you''d better stick close to the seasoned fighters and follow their lead. Nobody''s going to take responsibility for you if you end up dead."


    Harry scoffed. "Old man, maybe it''s too late for you to rise through the ranks, but not for me. I''m going to make it as a guard, just you watch."


    Jonathan and Hans, more cautious by nature, gravitated toward the veteran''s advice. Glory was enticing, but not at the cost of their lives or limbs. They edged away from Harry and sat down beside the older soldier.


    Conversations like this unfolded around campfires throughout the clearing. Soldiers from different baronies mingled in search of information. On this cold night, visible breath puffed into the air, and the fires burned steadily until morning.


    Meanwhile, Michael mounted his horse alongside the baron, preparing to attend a banquet at Kensington Castle. Baron Kensington was known as an eccentric noble.


    "Ah, thank you for coming. You must have had a long journey," Baron Kensington greeted them warmly. Then, his eyes fell on Michael''s horse. "Your son''s horse is magnificent!"


    "You''re too kind, Baron Kensington. But your horse looks equally impressive," the baron replied.


    "Haha, thank you! I recently paid a fortune for this stud. Just look at its mane and tail¡ªthey shimmer with rainbow hues, don''t they? This is the famous breed Rainbow Plus. Under sunlight, the reflection is stunning. Brushing it every morning and evening is such a delight. And its eyes¡ªso mysterious! Let me tell you¡­"


    The more he was complimented, the more animated Baron Kensington became, his speech stretching endlessly. This was his peculiar quirk¡ªhe was an animal and magical beast enthusiast. News of anyone acquiring an unusual creature or forming a pact with a magical beast would drive him to investigate immediately.


    Once a prosperous barony rivaling Crowley in wealth, Kensington''s fortunes had steadily declined due to its lord''s eccentricities. Among northeastern nobles, the phrase "a Kensington-like fool who ruins his household" had become popular. Rumor even held that a section of his castle housed a collection of rare animals.


    As Michael stood by his father, enduring an extended ode to Baron Kensington''s horse, he couldn''t even dismount from his own. Just as Baron Kensington began explaining why his horse''s hooves were exceptional, his eyes caught sight of something unusual.


    "What is that?" he exclaimed.


    His gaze had landed on Nyangnyang, who was perched atop Bucephalus, holding onto the horse''s mane.


    "That¡­ is that a cat?" Baron Kensington asked, incredulous.


    What kind of cat sat upright on a horse, clutching its mane for balance? Receiving a subtle signal from his father to humor the man, Michael explained, "Ah, this is my pet cat. It refuses to eat unless I feed it myself, so I had no choice but to bring it along. It won''t leave my side for a moment. Isn''t it adorable?"


    Baron Kensington stammered, "But... it''s holding onto the mane?" sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Exactly! That''s what makes it so smart," Michael said with pride. "When I first placed it on the horse, I worried it might fall, but it grabbed the mane and held on tight. Cats are naturally agile, after all."


    Baron Kensington, fascinated yet skeptical, stared at the cat. Could all cats perform such feats? Probably not. His eyes gleamed with avarice.


    "Could you sell me that cat?" he asked.


    Michael''s expression turned serious. Nyangnyang, perhaps sensing the situation, let out an indignant hiss and leapt onto Michael''s shoulder.


    "Absolutely not," Michael replied. "How could you ask such a thing? This cat is family."


    Baron Kensington sighed, disappointed. Though peculiar, he wasn''t known for being cruel or forceful. "Could I at least hold it? You called it Nyangnyang, right? Come here, sweetie," he coaxed.


    Nyangnyang¡ªno, Sphinx Nephertari¡ªlet out another disdainful hiss before turning its head away. Its tail lashed furiously, its whiskers quivering with the indignity of the situation.


    Here is the translation of the second part of Chapter 12, rewritten in the third-person narrative style:


    Michael dismounted his horse, guided by an attendant, wearing an expression of regret as he glanced at Nyangnyang, who completely ignored Baron Kensington''s pleas for attention. The castle, steeped in history, reflected the grandeur befitting a prominent figure in the northeastern territories. Though it had a sparse and worn appearance, likely from the sale of decorative items over time, it still retained its beauty.


    Inside the castle, nobles gathered in small groups, engaging in lively conversation. As Michael and his father entered, all eyes turned toward them. Greetings were exchanged, followed by compliments, politeness, and thinly veiled probing. Many seemed curious about the new heir of the Crassus family.


    "You have such a striking son! A face like an angel and the physique of a knight¡ªhow enviable!" one noble exclaimed.


    Michael found the endless stream of compliments about his appearance awkward. He had never thought much about his looks or build, and the excessive praise left him uneasy. Meanwhile, Baron Kensington trailed after him, still trying to coax Nyangnyang into letting him hold it. His obsession with animals was evident, and it was no surprise that he''d rather focus on creatures than engage in political scheming.

 Chapter 22 - 22

    Despite his eccentricities, Baron Kensington''s combat prowess was undeniable. As a sixth-level knight who tamed and rode a seventh-grade magical beast¡ªa griffon¡ªhe was arguably the strongest individual in the room. His blend of strength and peculiar charm made him a notable figure, attracting both admiration and ridicule.


    "Michael, could you lend me that cat, just for a moment?" Baron Kensington pleaded.


    Michael''s interactions with the eccentric baron drew attention from the gathered nobles. Seeing the popular baron''s interest in Michael, many quietly revised their assessment of the young heir upward.


    The nobles attending the banquet were all barons of minor territories or knights overseeing small estates. While their outward demeanor was cordial, each harbored personal ambitions. Some even took the opportunity to promote their daughters to Michael. Uninterested in marriage until he had solidified his position, Michael merely smiled politely.


    After failing to hold Nyangnyang, Baron Kensington shifted his focus back to the attendees. "Everyone, gather around! I have a fantastic proposal to share!" he announced.


    The lively banquet hall fell silent as all eyes turned to the baron.


    "This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!" he began, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "I recently succeeded in breeding my prized stallion, Rainbow Plus, and the results are extraordinary. Alfred! Bring them in!"


    At his command, a servant led in three foals adorned with ribboned manes and tails. However, the foals'' appearance was¡­ highly unconventional. Their coats looked as though someone had splattered random colors of paint, creating a chaotic and dizzying pattern. Unlike the iridescent beauty of Rainbow Plus, these foals radiated a jarring and unnatural vibrancy, even in the absence of sunlight.


    The nobles recoiled in shock.


    "These foals are the result of painstaking efforts!" Baron Kensington declared. "Aren''t they stunning? Their unique coloration is their charm point. Just look at their glossy coats! I''m offering these magnificent creatures at a bargain price of 10,000 gold each!"


    The nobles avoided eye contact, unwilling to even entertain the offer. The idea of paying 10,000 gold for such peculiar creatures was absurd. Michael shook his head in pity. The baron had completely misjudged his audience. These northern nobles prioritized military strength over luxury and would rather invest in armaments than colorful foals.


    Had these been warhorses instead of ornamental curiosities, the reaction might have been different. Even so, finding someone in this gathering with 10,000 gold to spare was unlikely.


    Baron Kensington, undeterred, lowered his price. "5,000 gold! Surely someone is interested at that price?"


    The nobles suddenly found the ceiling and tapestries extremely fascinating. Some even began counting the figures depicted in the wall hangings.


    Grinding his teeth, Baron Kensington made one last attempt. "3,000 gold! That''s less than the cost of the breeding process!"


    Michael, unable to watch the spectacle any longer, stepped in. "Baron Kensington, we are all knights. We can''t take such brightly colored horses into battle. However, why not try selling them in the capital? Wealthy ladies there would surely be interested in such unique creatures."


    The other nobles quickly chimed in.


    "Exactly! Imagine us rugged men riding those into battle¡ªpeople would think we''ve lost our minds!"


    "Baron Kensington, surely you don''t want to see these beautiful horses carrying the likes of us into the fray?"


    Baron Kensington sighed and admitted defeat. While their reasoning was valid, he still felt these northern brutes lacked an appreciation for beauty. Clapping his hands, he instructed his servants to remove the foals. With no prospect of making a sale, his mood soured.


    "Fine, let''s start the banquet!" he declared.


    As the host''s words signaled a shift in atmosphere, music filled the hall, and servants busily brought out food. The guests formed groups, chatting and indulging in food and drink. Unlike the capital, there were no strict dining etiquettes here¡ªtrue to the northern nobles'' belief that such formalities were for the weak.


    While his father mingled and laughed among the nobles with practiced ease, Michael approached Baron Kensington, who stood alone on a terrace, visibly disheartened.


    "Baron Kensington, are you brooding in solitude?" Michael asked with a faint smile.


    The baron''s face was dark with frustration. He needed gold to fill his empty coffers, but his attempts to sell the foals had failed miserably. Michael, unfazed by the baron''s mood, leaned closer and whispered, "Baron, I know a way for you to earn gold. Trust me this once, will you?"


    The word "gold" worked its magic, instantly calming Baron Kensington''s anger.


    The financial state of the domain had collapsed due to breeding experiments.


    On top of that, with numerous children to marry off, the Baroness''s gaze grew sharper by the day. Just yesterday, the Baron of Kensington had even heard her mutter that perhaps all the animals should be sold off.


    In a more peaceful time, he might have been able to borrow small amounts of money from noble or merchant acquaintances, but with a punitive expedition looming, even that option was out of reach.


    War begins with money and ends with money.


    With fanatics uprising in the neighboring Baron Crowley''s domain, he had no choice but to provide campsites and bake bread for the army, all while gritting his teeth.


    The situation naturally drew Baron Kensington''s attention.


    "Is there really a need for us to be so formal? Just call me Uncle Vincent," the Baron said.


    "Yes, Uncle Vincent," Michael replied without hesitation.


    "Now, Michael, tell me about this plan of yours."


    Michael sipped his wine, glanced around to ensure no one was listening, and spoke in a low voice.


    "There''s a way to extract as much wealth as possible during the punitive expedition. The scale of this rebellion is no small matter. Not only has the wealth of Baron Crowley''s estate been seized, but the assets of merchants and high-ranking officials in the region are likely in the hands of the fanatics. If we eliminate them, all that wealth will become ours."


    Baron Kensington''s mood sank. Wasn''t that obvious?


    "Ah, Michael, you''re still young. No matter how much loot there is, it''ll never reach our hands. Count Charles will take the lion''s share, leaving us with little more than scraps." S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 23 - 23 No Way Out

    Few nobles become rich through war¡ªnot because war lacks value, but because those at the top monopolize the spoils.


    "Uncle Vincent, hear me out. Count Charles must be overwhelmed right now. Kensington lies to the left of Baron Crowley''s domain, while Count Charles''s territory is to the right. From what I''ve seen, no fanatics have been spotted near here, and the villages have suffered no damage except for what the soldiers took for supplies. This suggests the fanatics are heading toward Count Charles''s domain. Their goal is to kill, convert followers, and offer them to their false god. They won''t stop at Crowley''s land; they''ll try to cause as much destruction as possible before the punitive expedition begins."


    Michael continued, "I spoke with nobles coming from Count Charles''s territory. They mentioned capturing and executing some fanatics on their way here, which confirms their direction. If we combine forces with the other barons, including your own, we can form a force of a thousand. Uncle, with your influence, you can unite them. Once we''ve formed an alliance, we delay our march and negotiate with Count Charles. The longer we stall, the better terms he''ll offer because he won''t know when the fanatics might overrun his lands. You, Uncle, would serve as the alliance''s representative. The profits will be substantial, and, of course, my domain should also benefit. What do you think of my proposal?"


    Baron Kensington, though of modest rank and with a reputation for squandering his fortune, was still a legitimate sixth-grade knight. He also possessed a seventh-grade magical beast, a griffon, along with several others of the eighth and ninth grades.


    With his skills, character, and individuality, he wielded considerable influence among the nobles. Although he had never taken the lead before, if he decided to form an alliance, at least the nobles gathered at this banquet would not refuse.


    There were over seventy territories in the northeastern planet, and few could muster a thousand soldiers. Even with half that number, they could conduct an independent expedition. S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    If scattered, they would become pawns of larger forces, forced into dangerous tasks. But united, they could stand as a power in their own right.


    This alliance might become a thorn in the side of other factions, but that was irrelevant. Nobles existed in a perpetual cycle of devouring one another.


    Faced with Michael''s proposal, which might seem ruthless, Baron Kensington hesitated.


    "Can we really unite them all? And intentionally delaying¡ªdoesn''t that tarnish our honor as knights?"


    Though well-liked, Baron Kensington lacked a knack for politics or business, as evidenced by his failure to grow his estate despite his abilities, earning him a reputation for bankruptcy.


    "People gather where there is profit," Michael replied. "And Count Charles was the first to abandon his moral obligations. Had he acted sooner, the fanatics wouldn''t have gained this much power, and Baron Crowley''s estate would have been spared. His negligence put his domain at risk."


    Michael smiled, confident in his judgment after extensive inquiries and efforts to build rapport with the nobles. Since they were participating in the expedition, they might as well maximize their gains.


    Baron Kensington made his decision, gathering everyone to explain the plan. His proposal to unite the thirty noble factions and act independently won enthusiastic support.


    Whether the alliance would succeed or hold strong remained uncertain. Conflicts of interest could cause it to crumble like a sandcastle.


    Still, Michael believed it was better than nothing. At least they had the numbers.


    The alliance''s core included five baronies, each contributing 100 soldiers, and Baron Kensington, who brought 100 soldiers and three magical beasts. Additional support came from sub-barons with around 50 soldiers and numerous knightly families with fewer than 20 soldiers.


    The alliance of thirty noble factions amassed 57 knights, 1,000 soldiers, and three magical beasts¡ªa force rivaling a mid-tier viscounty.


    After the banquet, as they returned, Baron Gregory Crassus praised Michael.


    "You''ve done well, Michael. How did you come up with such an idea?"


    Michael merely smiled, brushing it off as a shift in perspective. In an era where military accomplishments depended on sheer force, his plan was nothing special.


    Upon returning to the camp, Michael carefully removed the kitten, Miaomiao, from his shoulder and fed it some meat. Watching it munch on the raw meat alongside milk filled him with a sense of satisfaction.


    Nearby, Alex, his squire, tilted his head in confusion.


    "Is it really okay for a kitten to eat raw meat with milk?" he wondered aloud, but Michael dismissed his concerns. "As long as it eats well, that''s all that matters."


    Despite serving such a remarkable and skilled knight, Alex often found himself bewildered by his master''s occasional lack of common sense.


    As Alex wrestled with his thoughts, Michael found himself thinking about his grandfather.


    "I wish I could have brought Grandfather along..." he thought.


    Michael''s grandfather, with his incredible strength and skill that could slice through an enemy''s throat in a single strike, was formidable enough to defeat most knights with ease. But when the old man had waved off Michael''s request for help, claiming he had something to take care of alone and disappearing into the shadows, Michael had no choice but to let him go.


    At dawn the next day, the drums signaling the march resounded through the camp. Soldiers who had gathered in the encampment rose groggily and joined their respective formations. Bright banners fluttered in the breeze, but the sight of soldiers moving about in disarray caught Michael''s attention.


    He sighed inwardly.


    "Our soldiers really are the cream of the crop here," he thought.


    Apart from a few families, there was virtually no sense of discipline among the other forces. After observing the chaos, Michael concluded that his soldiers ranked within the top three of the alliance in terms of skill and organization¡ªeven when he considered his estimate conservative.


    The soldiers of other noble houses wielded crude spears, with many wearing shabby tunics over worn-out clothes. Those fortunate enough to don leather armor or proper equipment appeared to be from wealthier families or the offspring of vassals. Yet even they showed no understanding of proper formation, suggesting they''d never undergone formal drill training.

 Chapter 24 - 24

    In such a situation, revealing his troops'' capabilities might make them prime targets for dangerous tasks, so Michael resolved to keep their strength hidden as much as possible.


    But it wouldn''t be easy.


    As far as he could tell, only the soldiers from Crassus Barony maintained proper formations. The other armies struggled to even gather their troops by estate. If things continued as they were, it seemed more likely the fanatics would defeat the soldiers rather than the other way around.


    Michael realized why these nobles had never formed an alliance before. With troops of this quality, it was no wonder they scattered and sought the protection of larger factions.


    The march was excruciatingly slow¡ªnot just due to intentional delays but because the situation made speed impossible. Comparing them to turtles would be an insult to turtles, which at least have shells to protect themselves when stationary.


    At the edge of Crowley''s domain stood the Bartelberg Fortress, the final bastion against the fanatics and the gathering point for the allied forces.


    Count Charles, who had already established his camp there with his forces, raised his eyebrows in irritation.


    "When will the other nobles arrive?" he asked sharply.


    By his side stood Viscounts Henri and Dumas, who had arrived with him two days prior. Each had brought 500 soldiers, uniting ten local factions to form an army of 1,500 men.


    Count Charles himself commanded the largest contingent, with 1,000 soldiers of his own. Including his extended family''s direct retainers, the number approached 2,000.


    While the court count had not mobilized any troops, he still commanded a personal guard of 20 knights. S§×ar?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    However, Count Charles could not afford to relax. Their enemy consisted of frenzied fanatics and necromancers. Though the necromancers, known as one-man armies, were formidable, the greater threat lay in the fanatics, who were infused with the power of their false god. Suppressing their relentless and reckless assaults would inevitably lead to significant casualties.


    Though Count Charles wished to annihilate the fanatics as quickly as possible, the other nobles disagreed. They insisted on holding their positions until all the nobles from the northeastern planet had arrived. To rush into battle and risk depleting their forces could spell disaster for their houses.


    The fanatic threat had proven stronger than anticipated.


    At the very least, all factions needed to suffer equally to avoid being devoured by wolves.


    "The minor nobles have already left Kensington''s domain," reported a middle-aged knight. "But their pace is so slow it''ll take five more days for them to arrive."


    Count Charles exploded in anger.


    "They must think me a fool! Fifteen days have passed since I issued the conscription order, and this is what I get?"


    His anger stemmed partly from guilt. When Baron Crowley had called for help, Charles had delayed responding in pursuit of his own interests, allowing the situation to spiral out of control.


    The court count, Woodrock, could see through Charles''s actions, as could Michael.


    Determined to salvage his dignity as one of the great nobles of the northeastern planet, Count Charles decided to act more aggressively. He could not openly admit to negligence and tarnish his reputation.


    "Your Grace, now isn''t the time to assign blame," said a knight. "We must focus our efforts. Though Bartelberg Fortress is sturdy, the fanatics'' momentum is unnerving."


    Indeed, the fanatics would not respect noble rules of engagement. Knights and nobles were as vulnerable as ordinary soldiers in this conflict. Charles had underestimated the threat, and now he had to take responsibility for the chaos he''d allowed to unfold.


    No amount of ranting or raving would justify his actions. To make amends, Charles mobilized every available force. The fallout from this crisis was too great to allow it to spread further.


    Judging by Woodrock''s piercing gaze, news of the situation had likely reached the king. If the king discovered Charles''s failings, Crowley''s domain might fall under Woodrock''s control, shifting the balance of power in the northeastern planet.


    With his back against the wall, Count Charles had no choice but to act decisively.


    "Send messengers," he ordered, gritting his teeth. "Inform the nobles that any who arrive promptly will receive a share of Crowley''s land and assets, distributed according to their contributions. We''ll determine the exact proportions after their arrival, but urge them to hurry!"


    Count Charles didn''t yet realize this decision would lead to his regret. It was the second grave mistake of his campaign.


    The flat terrain gradually gave way to mountain paths. As the tense atmosphere faded with the slow march, the mood of the soldiers became increasingly relaxed, as if they were on a leisurely outing.


    Michael observed his troops with a critical eye.


    Even if all the soldiers in the world behaved this way, his own soldiers could not. The disciplined mindset of an Air Force officer occasionally surfaced in him.


    While maintaining order among his troops, Michael kept his ears open to the rumors spreading around the camp.


    By avoiding Baron Crowley''s occupied domain and moving into the mountain range, more minor nobles joined their ranks, bringing with them additional information. Where people gathered, tongues inevitably wagged.


    To ease their guilt over the slow march, the nobles blamed Count Charles and mourned Baron Crowley''s house. Of course, their criticism was empty, and their grief crocodilian. None of them would dare challenge a great noble for the sake of a house that no longer existed.


    Passive sabotage became even more blatant.


    The fanatics had grown stronger? That was Count Charles''s negligence, they reasoned. He should handle the consequences himself. Since the fanatics were reportedly heading toward his domain, it was someone else''s problem.


    While Count Charles''s forces focused on suppressing the rebellion, they could linger, gaining influence and collecting wealth along the way. They already had excuses prepared for the lack of progress: "What could we possibly do against these fanatics running amok? We, minor nobles, are too weak to handle them."

 Chapter 25 - 25 We Go Left

    As always, the truth was irrelevant.


    By the time they reached the mountainside and darkness descended over the forest, the troops began to set up camp.


    The soldiers from Crassus Barony swiftly constructed their campsite using field shovels issued as part of their supplies. These versatile tools, carried alongside their packs, could dig trenches in peacetime and deliver a decisive blow in emergencies. Created under Michael''s direction by every blacksmith in the castle, the shovels proved their worth. When heated over a fire, they could even be used to cook meat or pancakes.


    After feasting on roasted meat brought back by knights and guards, accompanied by warm tea, the soldiers retired to their tents. With blankets spread beneath them and thick cloaks covering their bodies, the cold night became bearable.


    The next morning, as Michael conducted roll call, he was startled.


    He had brought exactly 100 soldiers, yet the count¡ªperformed by squires since few soldiers could count beyond 50¡ªcame to 116.


    What in the world was going on?


    The soldiers responsible for guarding the supplies and important figures were accounted for separately, so the number of soldiers should have been an even 100. They hadn''t split like amoebas overnight.


    After individually identifying the unfamiliar faces among the troops, Michael discovered the reason for the discrepancy.


    "Where are you from? Whose domain do you serve?" he asked one of the strangers.


    "I''m from a village with a huge oak tree," the man replied. "Don''t know the name of the lord. Never met him."


    Sixteen such individuals had joined their ranks¡ªpeasants who didn''t even know which domain they belonged to, let alone the name of their lord.


    Perhaps feeding the troops had been a mistake. Soldiers from other domains, drawn by the smell of roasted meat, had wandered over and failed to return to their camps.


    "Sir Michael, could they be spies sent by the fanatics or Count Charles?" Alex, his squire, asked cautiously.


    Michael chuckled.


    "Spies? These fools? If they were actual spies, they would have killed a soldier and infiltrated discreetly. No one would employ such obvious fools as spies."


    Had this been an era of espionage, Michael might have suspected a highly skilled infiltrator. But this was not such an age, and there was no significant gain to be had by infiltrating his camp. This was simply the result of poorly disciplined soldiers from other domains making foolish mistakes.


    Someone might come looking for their missing soldiers eventually, but time passed, and no noble came forward to reclaim them. Whether due to desertions from other domains or the complete absence of roll calls elsewhere, it remained a mystery.


    Here, Michael''s modern perspective came to light.


    Among all the participating domains, only Crassus Barony had not lost a single soldier during the march. Other domains had long been losing troops to sickness, malnutrition, or desertion, often dismissing their disappearance as unfortunate but inevitable. The disregard for human life was part of the culture. S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Unaware of this broader context, Michael happily took in the stragglers. There was no need to make a fuss about returning them to their owners when no one came to claim them. In this world, the finder was the keeper.


    This might not have been noble or knightly behavior by the standards of the time, but Michael had experienced a different world. His actions were not driven by greed but by a humanitarian impulse: these underfed individuals needed to be nourished before they could return to their original domains.


    Distributing the surplus troops among his ten-man units, Michael was interrupted by the sight of a messenger riding toward him in haste, bearing Count Charles''s banner.


    "Orders from the Count!" the messenger announced. "The illustrious Count Charles has declared that any noble and their forces who arrive at Bartelberg Fortress within two days shall receive a share of all the land and wealth of Crowley''s domain, divided according to their contributions! The exact distribution will be determined in a meeting upon arrival, so make haste to obey!"


    The situation had shifted.


    News of tangible rewards brought smiles to the faces of the nobles. What had been a duty-bound conscription now promised material compensation.


    Crowley''s domain contained not only the wealth of the barony but also the lands and assets of its knights, minor nobles, and merchants¡ªdozens of holdings in total.


    Moreover, Crowley Barony, renowned for its fertile lands despite being located in the harsh northern region, boasted some of the wealthiest villages in the area.


    With the heads of the Crowley family already severed and the estate open for claiming, whoever arrived first would be the owner.


    Even nobles who had just been lamenting the tragedy of Crowley''s fall now licked their lips and gleamed with avarice. Count Charles, once the target of their scorn, suddenly became a figure of admiration.


    The reputations of Baron Kensington and Michael, who had first proposed the plan, soared.


    What had seemed an uncertain gamble had come to fruition.


    Count Charles, notorious for his cunning, might have reneged on a private promise, but a public declaration was a different matter. No noble would break a vow made in the name of their house, lest they be condemned and exiled from noble society.


    Michael grew uneasy at Count Charles''s sudden decisiveness. Such acts of generosity were often a cause for suspicion.


    However, he couldn''t dampen the enthusiasm of the nobles, who seemed ready to dash to the fortress at any moment. To do so would risk undoing the goodwill he had painstakingly cultivated.


    Still, there was cause for concern. The fanatics'' strength appeared greater than anticipated. If they were as weak as some believed, would Count Charles have surrendered so quickly?


    One of the ten most powerful nobles in the kingdom would not be so easily swayed. His resources and intelligence far surpassed those of the allied minor nobles.


    Had Count Charles perhaps found an heir to the Crowley family? If so, by supporting that heir to inherit the lands and titles, the alliance could find itself outmaneuvered, reduced to dogs chasing after a cart.


    But Michael shook his head. No, that was unlikely. Having lost their domain to the fanatics, the Crowley family would have no legitimate claim to it. Nobles were obligated to defend their lands, and a domain without an heir reverted to the kingdom.

 Chapter 26 - 26

    The most plausible explanation was that Count Charles intended to use the allied nobles as cannon fodder in a decisive battle against the fanatics.


    As the murmurs among the nobles grew louder, Baron Kensington stepped in to restore order. Excitement before the battle was counterproductive.


    Some nobles were already discussing how to divide the nonexistent spoils and redistribute wealth from the Crowley lands, as if the fanatics were already defeated. The alliance had turned into a raucous afternoon marketplace.


    Michael approached Baron Kensington quietly, preferring not to speak up himself lest he draw the ire of the frenzied nobles.


    "Enough! Stop this nonsense," Baron Kensington bellowed. "Arguing over spoils we don''t even have yet is pointless. Count Charles''s orders are clear: we must reach the fortress within two days. If we fail to do so, there will be no rewards. Let us move now to make the deadline instead of wasting time here."


    His words, like cold water dousing a fire, calmed the nobles. They weren''t fools; their excitement over Count Charles''s unprecedented proclamation had simply clouded their judgment.


    Exchanging knowing glances, the nobles returned to their camps, eager to set off ahead of the others. Every step gained on their rivals would mean greater influence in the division of spoils.


    Watching the nobles scurry about, Michael returned to his camp at a leisurely pace. There was no point in rushing. They were bound together as an alliance, and reaching the fortress a step earlier would change nothing. Most of the nobles would likely not even be admitted to the negotiations.


    Having secured an agreement with Baron Kensington, Michael moved with deliberate calm. The road to Bartelberg Fortress was rugged due to the mountain range, but it wasn''t particularly far. As long as they maintained a steady pace, they would arrive on time.


    The allied minor nobles marched with an air of grandeur. Though their formations lacked discipline, the sight of over a thousand people traveling together along the same path was undeniably impressive.


    Hans and Jonathan, soldiers from Crassus Barony, surveyed the scene around them, feeling a surge of pride.


    "There''s no other domain like ours," Hans remarked.


    While soldiers from other domains trudged along in small, disorganized groups, often carrying little more than a bundle of belongings, the soldiers from Crassus Barony marched in neat, orderly formations. Their matching uniforms and packs made them stand out, drawing admiration from onlookers.


    Their pride swelled to its peak. This, they believed, was all thanks to Michael.


    By the next day, the watchtower of Bartelberg Fortress came into view. As they neared the fortress, the nobles at the front of the march gathered together, tension building.


    The further they descended from the mountains, the more frequent the fanatics'' sporadic ambushes became. These fanatics, devoid of chivalry or morality, were truly despicable beings. But then again, that was to be expected of fanatics.


    Adopting a cautious strategy, Michael had positioned his forces in the middle of the procession, ensuring he lost no soldiers. In contrast, nobles at the edges of the march had already suffered significant losses.


    In the distance, the gates of the fortress came into view. The reason for Count Charles''s urgency became clear¡ªthe fortress was under attack.


    The fanatics, startled by the sudden arrival of the allied minor nobles, halted their assault and let out incoherent screams before charging toward them. Their ferocity was unsettling.


    Though still some distance away, it was only a matter of time before the two forces clashed.


    "Knights! There is no retreat in our vocabulary. Follow me!" Baron Kensington shouted as he spurred his horse forward.


    Other nobles and lords quickly followed, galloping ahead in an impromptu charge.


    Michael was taken aback.


    "Why? Why aren''t they advancing with their soldiers?" he wondered.


    Sensing his hesitation, his father, Baron Crassus, spoke in a gentle but urging tone.


    "Come now, Michael. I understand you''re nervous for your first battle, but we must join them quickly." S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As a trained officer, Michael couldn''t agree. While he wasn''t against charging, such reckless advances were not his style.


    He turned to his father.


    "Father, these aren''t knights we''re fighting. Charging in like this could lead to disaster. I''m not saying we shouldn''t charge, but we need to wait for the right moment."


    Baron Crassus hesitated but decided to trust his son''s judgment. Michael had proven his worth in the past, and there was no reason to doubt him now.


    Meanwhile, Michael climbed to the highest vantage point he could find, scanning the battlefield. His gaze met that of Sir Ronald, who seemed eager to join the fray.


    "Sir Ronald, lead the soldiers and follow me. We''re going to flank from the left," Michael commanded.


    At that moment, Baron Kensington was leading a direct charge into the fanatics'' front lines. His massive greatsword cleaved through six fanatics in one swing.


    The knights following him, though less skilled, fought valiantly. But a frontal assault carried immense risk.


    One knight was pulled from his horse and brutally butchered. It was clear the fanatics had no intention of sparing captives or bargaining for ransom.


    Michael drew his bow. It was time to aim for the enemy commander.


    Before setting out for the expedition, Michael visited Greg, the village''s most skilled blacksmith, and assigned him a special task: crafting a steel bow.


    The longbow Michael had received from his uncle, made of yew wood, had broken after only a few hunts. Whether it was due to Michael''s extraordinary strength or the bow''s age, it hadn''t lasted long.


    Hearing Michael''s request, Greg stroked his beard and his eyes lit up with excitement.


    "Haha, to undertake such a challenge at my age¡ªit''s intriguing! Could you check if there''s any magic steel in the castle''s storage? It''s far more flexible and durable than regular steel. If you channel your aura into it, it would be perfect. My family has passed down a technique for tempering magic steel, and I''d love to try it for this occasion."


    Eagerly, Michael had the steward open the estate''s armory, where they found a stash of magic steel stored carefully in a corner. That rare resource became the foundation for Michael''s steel bow.

 Chapter 27 - 27 They Must Die

    The completed bow was shorter than a standard bow, designed specifically for ease of use on horseback. It was a powerful bow that required five men to draw its string. Even Sir Ronald, known for his great strength, could barely pull it, let alone fire an arrow.


    Only Michael, with his innate physical prowess and the "archery skill" he had honed, could wield the steel bow effectively.


    The arrows he shot flew with unerring precision and so much force that they were unaffected by the wind. However, the strength of the bow posed a new problem¡ªthe arrows themselves couldn''t withstand the power. Even at greater distances, arrows would often crumple on impact.


    The steel bow''s power far surpassed that of a wooden bow. The string, too, was an issue. The combined strength of Michael and the bow snapped every string he tried.


    In the end, they used the hair from the tail of a Pegasus, an heirloom passed down in Michael''s family for five generations. The steward, tearfully handing over the precious material, felt his heart break each time a strand snapped under the strain.


    For the arrows, there was no perfect solution. They resorted to using the sturdiest wood available, tipped with heavy iron heads.


    Holding his steel bow, the product of such arduous preparation, Michael fixed his gaze on the battlefield ahead.


    Shifting his unit to the left flank had been worth it; the position made it easier to aim. Using his improved vision and keen "archery skill," he spotted the enemy commander.


    The man, covered in strange red patterns as if painted with blood, was grotesque to behold. In the cold winter air, steam rose from his bare body, and his lips moved ceaselessly in what seemed like an incantation, accompanied by bizarre movements.


    "A mad sorcerer," Michael muttered to himself.


    The commander had no helmet, as though he was utterly careless or overconfident due to the distance.


    "Looks like you''re begging to die. Wish granted."


    Michael released the arrow, which flew with blistering speed.


    The enemy commander died instantly, his head struck clean through. As blood spurted like a fountain from the corpse, Michael turned his focus to the next target.


    More figures with similarly grotesque appearances caught his eye.


    "Lord, sending another one to you," Michael quipped, as his next arrow smashed through a fanatic''s skull like a watermelon.


    Perhaps he had used too much force.


    Smiling faintly, Michael nudged his horse, Bucephalus, into motion. The Pamir mountain steed responded with fluid agility, allowing Michael to maintain his position in the blind spots of the enemy forces while continuing his deadly archery.


    Five or six commanders fell in rapid succession, their skulls shattered before they even realized what was happening.


    Then Michael noticed something strange.


    As the grotesque commanders fell, fanatics began collapsing en masse. The wild-eyed attackers, who had been screaming in fury, now crumpled into withered corpses, their vitality seemingly drained away.


    "So that''s why they were so crazed. Must''ve been under some berserk spell," Michael thought.


    The front lines opened up.


    "This is the chance!" Michael shouted. "Sir Ronald! Father! Now is the time to storm the fortress. Rally the soldiers!"


    Sir Ronald, who had been stunned by Michael''s skill with the bow, quickly gathered the soldiers, with Michael''s father following close behind.


    The remaining fanatics, disorganized and weakened, were no match for Ronald''s swordsmanship. Wielding a massive greatsword in one hand, he cut down the enemy with an ease that reminded onlookers of the legendary warrior Zhang Fei.


    From a safe distance, Michael continued firing arrow after arrow, eliminating threats whenever his allies were in danger. In no time, dozens of fanatics fell to his relentless assault.


    Baron Crassus took advantage of the chaos to behead several more enemies.


    Baron Kensington, meanwhile, realized with a sinking heart that his comrades were falling one by one. sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    These fanatics were beyond reason. Their bloodshot eyes and disregard for life made them terrifying opponents.


    By now, some should have hesitated or retreated in fear, but they all pressed forward with unrelenting fervor.


    Then Baron Kensington noticed the scattered commanders among the fanatics¡ªbare, bloodied figures chanting incomprehensible spells and gesturing wildly. Each cry from them seemed to further intensify the fanatics'' assault.


    "Kill them! Those naked ones! Take them out!" he shouted.


    But it was easier said than done.


    The knights with bows attempted to shoot the commanders, but their aim was poor, and the targets were too far away. As the casualties mounted, Baron Kensington grew increasingly anxious.


    He was no fool. The more nobles and knights fell, the weaker the alliance''s collective strength would become.


    Unintentionally, he had moved too far from his soldiers, leaving himself vulnerable to being surrounded by fanatics.


    Frustrated, he turned his gaze toward the fortress.


    "Damn that Count! Reinforcements are here, and he''s still not deploying his troops. How can this be?"


    Grinding his teeth in anger, Baron Kensington regretted holding back his gryphon and magical beasts.


    "Everyone, pull back and regroup! The fortress troops will come to our aid soon," he ordered.


    Inside the fortress, Count Charles clicked his tongue as he watched the minor nobles struggle.


    "I had hoped to weaken these irritating small fry using the fanatics, but they''re already retreating. Useless fools," he muttered.


    Still, he couldn''t let things go too far. Breaking the unwritten rules of noble warfare would tarnish his reputation.


    Now that the survivors had been sufficiently humbled, it was time to save them and be hailed as a hero.


    As he watched, he noticed a group of soldiers nearing the fortress gates.


    "Ah, Crassus Barony. Impressive," he mused.


    Mounting his fourth-grade magical beast, a chimera passed down through his family, Count Charles prepared to make a grand charge, leading his knights to secure victory.


    A fanatic''s neck snapped with a sickening crack as the chimera''s snake head coiled around it.


    The sight of over a hundred knights charging on horseback was awe-inspiring. The ground trembled under the thunderous sound of hooves.


    Baron Kensington and the other struggling minor nobles didn''t remain idle. Once Count Charles''s knights joined forces with them, a path was cleared in no time.


    The chimera''s combat power was overwhelming. Its lion head spewed fire, the goat head exhaled black mist, and the snake head extended to snap the necks of the fanatics.

 Chapter 28 - 28

    Once Michael safely entered the fortress, he looked around. It seemed his unit was the first of the alliance to make it inside.


    Considering he had eliminated five or six enemy commanders, his contributions were significant.


    While resting after dismounting, he watched as other allied nobles trickled into the fortress one by one. They all looked shaken and defeated.


    Meanwhile, Count Charles, after dismounting from the chimera and inspecting the face of a slain enemy commander, wore a grim expression.


    "From a distance, I couldn''t tell, but... this is..."


    The strange blood-red patterns painted on the commander''s face, the naked priests, the incomprehensible chants¡ªthese sights stirred troubling memories of his family''s ancient lore.


    The Count''s eyes widened in shock as realization dawned.


    "How can this be? Bloodseal¡ªwasn''t it sealed a thousand years ago by the Holy Radiant Kingdom? How could it fall into the hands of the fanatics?"


    Finally understanding why the fanatics had grown so powerful, Count Charles felt his mind spiral.


    The Crowley Barony, despite its wealth and resources, had fallen without putting up a proper fight. Now he understood why.


    He regretted not responding to the initial distress call immediately. It wasn''t the first time he had felt this remorse.


    Bloodseal!


    The cursed artifact from 1,500 years ago.


    Even someone with no knowledge of magic or curses could use the Bloodseal to carve runes onto their face and transform a thousand docile serfs into fanatics.


    It required a thousand lives to inscribe a single rune, but once the process began, the cult could expand its forces exponentially.


    Ordinary humans couldn''t match knights in strength, but when enough ants swarmed, even an elephant could fall.


    The fanatics they faced now had likely been commoners or serfs, living normal lives before suddenly becoming zealots of an otherworldly deity.


    Count Charles recalled his family''s lore.


    Fifteen hundred years ago, the Kingdom of Orland had been destroyed by the Bloodseal, an abominable artifact created by the bastard son of a king, who had borrowed the power of an otherworldly god.


    Every time the Bloodseal resurfaced throughout history, it left devastation in its wake.


    Eventually, the Holy Radiant Kingdom led a continent-wide coalition to suppress the cult and banish the artifact from memory. Over time, its name became one that people feared to even speak.


    Only as a great noble, with access to his family''s traditions, did Count Charles know of its existence.


    The Bloodseal had to be secured immediately.


    If left unchecked, even his own soldiers might fall under its influence. To resist its effects, he and his men would need to seek blessings from the priests of the Holy Radiant Church¡ªblessings that had to be renewed monthly.


    The thought of the church''s demands and the costs involved made his head ache.


    He recalled the message sent by the wyvern riders, informing him that a paladin and priests from the Holy Radiant Kingdom were on their way.


    "It makes sense now. That cursed kingdom must have known the Bloodseal was stolen and are coming to retrieve it¡ªprobably to profit from the situation while they''re at it."


    The image of the self-satisfied messenger who had delivered the news made Count Charles grind his teeth in frustration.


    Still, he had no choice. He could only hope the paladin and priests would arrive soon.


    But how much damage would occur before then? The cost of the war effort alone was staggering. Even as the most powerful noble in the northeastern planet, his resources were being stretched thin.


    There would also be criticism for his delay in suppressing the cult. If things went poorly, he might even lose his title.


    Perhaps they should strike the cult''s base before the Holy Radiant Kingdom arrived. But finding such a well-hidden enemy seemed an impossible task, leaving Count Charles feeling helpless.


    As he stood in despair, a banner fluttering on the fortress walls caught his attention. The urgent sound of a war horn followed.


    "Damn it!"


    Count Charles suddenly realized the situation and hastily mounted his chimera.


    Among the enemy forces was a necromancer.


    The shriveled corpses lying on the battlefield could rise at any moment to attack.


    Leaving the bodies of the fallen knights and soldiers behind, Count Charles fled in haste.


    Meanwhile, Michael was inspecting his troops.


    Despite their training, casualties were unavoidable. Several familiar faces were missing.


    The final tally was nine dead, ten severely injured, and twenty-one lightly wounded. Fortunately, there were no missing soldiers¡ªalive or dead, every comrade had been accounted for.


    The severely wounded were entrusted to Hope for healing, regardless of whether they were regular soldiers or conscripted serfs. Within two days, they would likely recover enough to move on their own.


    The lightly wounded received assistance from supply medics.


    The basic medical training taught by Michael''s uncle Henry and Carla had proven effective. Without the time to recruit and train dedicated medics, this temporary measure had worked well.


    Overall, the state of the Crassus troops was excellent compared to the allied minor nobles.


    The losses among the allied forces were severe.


    Some lost nearly all their soldiers, while others had their knights or even family heads killed. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The minor noble alliance gathered in Baron Kensington''s tent.


    Their once-shining armor was now stained with blood, and their eyes glinted with hostility.


    Michael feigned a somber expression. Had he joined their charge, the Crassus troops would have suffered similarly heavy losses.


    In reality, he felt relief¡ªhis troops had the fewest casualties, yet his contributions to the battle were among the greatest. Internally, he celebrated but kept his outward demeanor in tune with the somber atmosphere.


    "Everyone has worked hard," Baron Kensington began in a grim tone.


    As the alliance''s leader, he felt the burden of their losses.


    His own losses were substantial. Though his gryphon and other magical beasts remained untouched, he had lost half of his 100 soldiers. Even one of the knights he had taken as a son-in-law had been gravely injured.


    Knights who had awakened their aura were difficult to heal, and it would take at least five days before the knight could even stand.


    With such losses, it was critical to secure substantial rewards. Properly managing the aftermath was essential for preserving the alliance. Without careful handling, it could fall apart.


    "Now that everyone is here, let''s head to Count Charles''s tent. We must voice our grievances and claim what is rightfully ours!" Kensington declared.


    These matters needed to be resolved early. Waiting until after the punitive expedition ended would reduce everything to empty talk.


    The nobles in the tent, including Michael, nodded in agreement and shouted in unison:


    "Let''s confront Count Charles and claim our rights!"


    "Indeed! We deserve fair compensation!"


    Fueled by righteous indignation, the group marched toward Count Charles''s tent.

 Chapter 29 - 29 Ensure the Profits!

    Count Charles greeted the minor nobles storming into his tent with a smile, though inwardly he grumbled, comparing them to summer gnats.


    "Come in, come in. Thank you all for coming," he said.


    The unexpected hospitality caught the nobles off guard, their expressions stiffening. Despite repeated invitations, none of them sat down.


    As the representative of the alliance, Baron Kensington stepped forward.


    "Your Grace, forgive us, but we are still in our armor. Let us speak standing."


    Count Charles nodded awkwardly, though his face showed no sign of actual regret.


    The nobles didn''t mind. As seasoned players of political games, they would have been suspicious if Count Charles had seemed genuinely apologetic. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Their unity was for one purpose: profit. Any pretense of seeking justice for the fallen was merely an excuse.


    Clearing his throat, Count Charles began to speak.


    "Very well, as you wish. Some of you may already have guessed, but the recent fanatic uprising is tied to the Bloodseal. We''ve found proof."


    Baron Kensington couldn''t suppress a gasp.


    "That''s impossible! Who could have broken the Holy Radiant Kingdom''s seal and brought out that cursed artifact?"


    "I didn''t want to believe it either, but it''s true. It''s the same object that plunged the continent into chaos 1,500 years ago."


    Both Count Charles and Baron Kensington came from ancient noble lineages.


    Baron Kensington was a descendant of a prolific count''s family whose traditions and knowledge far exceeded those of lesser nobles. His ancestors had participated in the war to seal the Bloodseal, losing over twenty direct descendants in the process. Had his ancestor not had so many children, the family line would have been extinguished like many others.


    Michael, observing the conversation, felt out of place. Though he didn''t fully understand the significance of the Bloodseal, the tense atmosphere indicated it was a grave matter. Seeing that others looked equally bewildered, he found some comfort in not being the only one.


    He waited for Count Charles to elaborate.


    "The Bloodseal is a cursed artifact of an otherworldly deity, taking the form of a brush. By sacrificing a thousand lives and using their blood, it carves runes that turn a thousand people into fanatics. It has reappeared after being sealed away in the Holy Radiant Kingdom, and we must act swiftly. Fortunately, we''ve already killed several commanders bearing its runes. We must continue targeting their leaders."


    Michael raised a question.


    "Will our soldiers be affected? Has the Holy Radiant Kingdom sent aid? Their failure to properly secure the seal has caused us to suffer these losses."


    "You''re correct," Count Charles replied. "The Holy Radiant Kingdom sent word via wyvern rider that reinforcements are on their way. They should arrive within a few days. As for the soldiers, all stationed here will receive blessings from the Holy Radiant priests in my domain. Once baptized, they will be safe for a month, though the process will need to be repeated monthly."


    Michael pondered the situation.


    The rebellion within the kingdom, coupled with the involvement of the Holy Radiant Kingdom, made the matter far from simple. The Bloodseal''s exposure necessitated drastic measures, but something felt off.


    He sensed deeper machinations at play.


    For now, however, the immediate crisis took precedence. Failing to suppress the uprising would endanger not only Count Charles''s domain but the entire northeastern planet. If it fell, the Kingdom of Rania, where Michael''s territory was located, would also face peril.


    The nobles began murmuring among themselves.


    "In that case, wouldn''t it be better to stay fortified in the fortress until the Holy Radiant Kingdom arrives? Engaging in more battles will only lead to further casualties," one noble suggested.


    His words drew glares from the others, silencing him. Such sentiments were unacceptable for knights and nobles.


    As a modern thinker, Michael privately agreed, but he knew better than to voice such thoughts. In a world where single-minded traditions ruled, pragmatic ideas were often dismissed.


    Besides, staying in the fortress might give the fanatics more time to bolster their forces.


    Baron Crassus, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. His seasoned wisdom cut to the heart of the matter.


    "Let''s not lose sight of our purpose here. The Bloodseal has already surfaced, so there''s no point debating its existence. If we see the enemy, we strike them down. We''ve already killed several of their commanders, proving they''re not invincible. For now, we must focus on what needs to be done. Count Charles, how do you intend to take responsibility for this situation? Your delay in acting has caused us great losses."


    His pointed remark brought the group to their senses.


    Yes, the damage was already done. It was time to secure compensation.


    "Baron Crassus, your greed is excessive. This isn''t the time to focus on personal gains," Count Charles retorted.


    But his call for unity was met with sharp stares.


    The nobles knew Count Charles had initially delayed his response for selfish reasons, so his argument held little weight.


    Seizing the momentum, Baron Kensington added his voice.


    "The situation seems dire, but it may not be as catastrophic as it appears. While the Bloodseal was once a powerful artifact, 1,500 years of the Great God of Light''s blessings must have diminished its strength. If its power were at its peak, the fanatics would have spread beyond Crowley''s domain by now. If we act quickly to disrupt the Bloodseal''s influence, we can resolve this ourselves."


    Murmurs of agreement arose from all sides.


    Count Charles, now unable to oppose the consensus, reluctantly spoke.


    "Very well... though this isn''t the time for such discussions..."


    His brazen attempt to deflect responsibility drew glares, prompting him to clear his throat and avert his eyes.


    Sensing the tense mood, he sought to buy time.


    "It''s late. Let''s take a break for dinner and reconvene afterward."


    As the Korean proverb says, "Too many cooks spoil the broth," and the same held true in the Rubel Continent.


    While dining in Baron Kensington''s tent, dozens of nobles vied to boast of their contributions and claim rewards. At this rate, it might take a month to reach any conclusions.

 Chapter 30 - 30

    "Enough!" someone finally exclaimed. "If we delay any longer, the reinforcements from the Holy Radiant Kingdom will arrive, and our share will diminish. We must decide before then."


    The noisy nobles fell silent. The logic was undeniable.


    "What should we do, then?" one asked.


    Baron Crassus stepped in with an answer.


    "Let''s first establish the distribution ratios. Once we secure what we''re owed, we can reassess contributions after the campaign ends. Then we''ll have time for proper discussions. What do you think?"


    No one objected.


    Having gained unanimous agreement, Baron Crassus exchanged a knowing glance with Michael. As expected, the plan was proceeding smoothly.


    "Then let''s appoint five representatives to negotiate with Count Charles and finalize the distribution ratios," Baron Crassus declared.


    From this point, the representatives would be chosen based on their influence and abilities.


    The five representatives were chosen based on the remaining strength of their forces, and naturally, Baron Crassus was among them. Clearing his throat, he offered a suggestion.


    "Count Charles is a cunning man, capable of anything. Why not bring a squire with each of us?"


    Being accustomed to having attendants, the other representatives agreed. For Baron Crassus, the "squire" he brought along was, unsurprisingly, Michael.


    The idea of bringing a knight as a squire was absurd, but no one objected. Meanwhile, the other representatives began quietly looking for clever and perceptive aides to bring with them.


    "Good luck to us all," someone remarked. "We must elevate the banner of our alliance."


    Now that they had survived the battle, rewards were inevitable. Even if some of them perished, their heirs would inherit the glory. With Count Charles''s missteps so evident, they were confident they could extract significant concessions.


    After dinner, Michael and Baron Crassus endured waves of flattery from other nobles.


    Exaggerating only slightly, Michael estimated that a third of the nobles present had some familial connection to the Crassus family. Now, these connections swarmed them, seeking favors or scraps of advantage.


    It wasn''t necessarily a bad thing. As long as their own interests weren''t compromised, having mutual support from allies could be beneficial¡ªnot only in negotiating the spoils but also for future campaigns. The tight-knit noble society might be treacherous at times, but outright betrayal was rare.


    As Michael left Baron Kensington''s tent, he noticed smoke rising beyond the fortress.


    It was from the cremation of corpses to prevent their use by necromancers.


    "What a waste!" Michael thought, an idea striking him.


    He quickly returned to his camp and summoned his squires, along with the serf-soldiers and "lost" soldiers from other domains. Handing them each a sack, he led them out of the fortress.


    Fortunately, many of the corpses had only been partially burned. Michael urged his men to strip the bodies of usable clothes and gather their weapons.


    Most of the bodies were those of soldiers, so the haul wasn''t particularly valuable. But for the poorly equipped serf-soldiers and "lost" troops, the salvaged items were a godsend.


    While the regular troops of Crassus Barony had standard uniforms and supplies, the serf-soldiers had little more than rags. The retrieved leather armor, sturdy clothing, weapons, and other items were a windfall for them.


    The men eagerly filled their sacks, showing no guilt. These were ownerless goods that would have been incinerated. If not for Michael''s quick thinking, they would have missed this unearned fortune.


    Recycling was a necessity in times of scarcity.


    Inspired by Michael''s example, other nobles cautiously followed suit, sending their own men to scavenge from the cremation piles. By the time Michael returned to the fortress, however, he had already claimed the best items.


    The haul included armor and weapons, though most bore the insignias of other houses. While they couldn''t be used as-is, they could be reworked in the forge back home.


    Equipping the serf-soldiers with proper gear was another victory. Even a few horse carcasses had been salvaged, which would provide much-needed meat for the soldiers'' meals.


    Back at camp, the men eagerly poured out their loot, each looking for gear that fit them. Weapons went to whoever claimed them first, while clothing was swapped among the men until everyone was outfitted.


    Some lucky soldiers now boasted leather armor and steel weapons, cutting impressive figures.


    Fights broke out over the best items, with the strongest soldiers inevitably claiming the most valuable gear. Michael didn''t intervene¡ªbetter that the strongest were the best armed. Giving premium equipment to weaklings would only serve the enemy.


    Leaving his men to their merriment, Michael reflected on the day''s battle.


    It had been his first combat experience, and despite the challenges, he had achieved significant results. He was confident of securing a large share of the spoils.


    Now, his focus was on achieving even greater feats¡ªa goal he believed was well within his reach.


    Meanwhile, Count Charles was nearly at his wits'' end.


    The onslaught of nobles, whom he likened to a swarm of gnats, left him wanting to cry.


    His losses were staggering. Three of his knights had been killed, falling from their horses and being torn apart by fanatics.


    Despite this, his achievements were meager¡ªonly one enemy commander slain.


    The nobles'' earlier reactions made it clear they deeply resented him. Even the court count had scolded him for his delayed response to the reinforcements.


    "How could I have known things would turn out like this?" Count Charles thought, frustrated. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Mistakes had piled up, growing into an uncontrollable snowball. He was certain he would lose significant power and influence over this debacle. If he failed to satisfy the nobles, he risked losing his position as the leading noble of the northeastern region.


    "Bring the representatives to my tent," he ordered.


    Better to face the consequences sooner rather than later.


    Despite the bruises to his pride and reputation, Count Charles resolved to recover. He believed in the resilience of his family and its legacy.


    Having cleaned himself up and straightened his attire, he welcomed the representatives. Most of them bore visible signs of loss, except for Baron Crassus, whose success was evident.


    As they exchanged glances, many nobles couldn''t help but recall that Michael was still unmarried. Their predatory stares made Michael shiver uncomfortably.

 Chapter 31 - 31

    The Count''s tent was surrounded by rows of cavalry, a display of strength that caught Michael''s attention.


    "I want those heavy cavalry," he thought enviously.


    "Thank you for coming despite your fatigue," Count Charles began. "Let us begin the discussion."


    The room was tense as nobles exchanged furtive looks. Most were warriors by nature, ill-suited for negotiations. They relied on their aides to guide them.


    Michael whispered to Baron Crassus, "Your Grace, the Count surely knows the extent of the damage we''ve suffered. We should demand 70% of the spoils from this campaign, in addition to retaining whatever our troops have claimed for themselves."


    Count Charles''s face darkened. "Seventy percent? That''s outrageous! We''ve lost three knights, and there will be more casualties to come."


    "Three knights?" one of the representatives interjected. "We lost 21 knights, including five lords! How will you compensate for those losses?"


    Count Charles clicked his tongue in frustration. "Fine. Then we''ll allocate shares according to each house''s contributions, as has been customary. Individual soldiers may keep what they''ve claimed."


    "That won''t do," Baron Crassus retorted. "We''ve already agreed to divide the spoils collectively. If 70% is too much, then we demand 50% of the total spoils, which we will distribute among ourselves. As for personal claims, those will remain untouched."


    Count Charles hesitated. Overwhelmed by the alliance''s united front, he had no choice but to relent.


    "Very well. I''ll bear the losses," he conceded.


    The meeting ended more swiftly than expected, with the minor noble alliance leaving in high spirits.


    Watching them go, Count Charles smirked. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Celebrate while you can. You''re not the only ones with alliances," he muttered, thinking of the viscount houses and other nobles he could rally to his side.


    Still, with his recent string of bad luck, there was no guarantee his plans would succeed.


    The minor nobles were overjoyed with the profits secured by their five representatives.


    Receiving half of the collective spoils, excluding individual loot, was an unprecedented gain. The spoils even included territories. For nobles, acquiring land was irresistible.


    Even if the land was far from their current holdings, they could always exchange it with others. Since estates were often contiguous, swapping territories was a common practice.


    Michael was in good spirits, too. It was now clear to all the minor nobles that he was the true force behind the alliance.


    With such accomplishments, he no longer needed to rely on Baron Kensington to rally support.


    After the meeting concluded, Michael and Baron Crassus hastened back to their camp. The casualties from the battle had unsettled the soldiers, and it was not wise for the lord and his heir to remain absent for long.


    As they approached the camp, the acrid stench of burning flesh assaulted their senses.


    By the fires, soldiers stood solemnly, mourning their fallen comrades. The cremation of the dead was underway.


    This was a grim necessity. On the battlefield, burning corpses was standard protocol¡ªnot just to prevent the spread of disease but to avoid a more sinister threat.


    In this world, the dead often returned. Reanimated comrades usually announced their return with ravenous bites aimed at their former allies.


    With a necromancer among the enemy forces, the precautions were even more critical. The bodies had to be burned completely, leaving nothing but ashes.


    Still, the dead deserved dignity. As the grandson and heir of an executioner, Michael felt it appropriate to offer some form of funeral rite.


    He excused himself from the baron and approached the burning pyre.


    The soldiers made way as Michael stepped forward.


    "Those who rest here, rejoice with all your heart," Michael began, reciting the executioner''s prayer. "Death is peace, a promised sanctity. Do not grieve the end, for I will avenge you. If not me, then who will stain their hands with blood? Peace comes from vengeance, and death is rest."


    Standing before the flames, Michael traced the sacred sign of the gods of death and vengeance.


    The soldiers, who had been watching in awe, hastily mimicked his gesture, drawing the same symbol over their chests.


    It was a cruel world, one where war would never cease.


    Though Michael had not yet gained the strength to reshape its course, he hoped to always make the right choices.


    After a solemn bow toward the blazing pyre, Michael turned and walked away.


    As he departed, the soldiers saluted him with newfound respect.


    His steps toward the barracks were heavy.


    Though he felt no aversion to killing, likely due to a survival instinct, the deaths of his allies weighed on him differently.


    Without such feelings, he would have feared becoming a psychopath.


    Through blood and fire, Michael had undergone a harsh initiation into this world.


    Indeed, humanity was a creature shaped by its environment.


    The next morning, the sound of horns signaling assembly echoed through the camp.


    Dragging his heavy body, Michael mounted Bucephalus. Baron Crassus and Sir Ronald, their eyes shadowed with exhaustion, joined him.


    The aftereffects of their first battle were palpable.


    Though they longed for a day of rest, there was no time to spare.


    The Bloodseal needed to be neutralized, and the remaining fanatics had to be eliminated.


    Failure to act swiftly could endanger their territories.


    The soldiers, understanding this, moved with urgency.


    The haunting image of the fanatics'' blood-red eyes lingered in their minds. They could not allow that same fire to threaten their families.


    Count Charles divided the assembled forces into four legions.


    The first legion comprised Count Charles''s troops and his vassals, along with the 20 court knights brought by the Court Count.


    The second legion consisted of the viscount families and their retainers.


    The third legion was formed from nobles unaffiliated with the minor noble alliance.


    Naturally, the minor noble alliance made up the fourth legion.


    Michael and Baron Crassus directed Sir Ronald to organize their formation while seeking out the other nobles.


    Now that they were part of a legion, they needed to establish a proper order. They could no longer afford to fight as a disorganized mob.


    The allied nobles agreed wholeheartedly.


    They had learned the hard way during the previous battle that 90% of their forces were untrained and ineffective.


    Under standard military structure, units were organized into squads of ten, companies of a hundred, and regiments of a thousand.


    However, the allied nobles instead grouped themselves haphazardly, forming six companies based on personal connections.

 Chapter 32 - 32 These Wretched Creatures!

    The scene was chaotic, with soldiers calling out names and searching for relatives among the ranks.


    Michael opposed this slapdash organization, but he had no authority over soldiers from other domains.


    Even within the alliance, such interference would be overstepping his bounds.


    This was still an era of feudal governance, where each lord managed their own domain.


    Thus, the fourth legion ended up with only six companies¡ªbarely half of its original strength.


    Watching the other legions form their units, Michael felt a growing sense of unease.


    Among the four legions, the fourth was undoubtedly the weakest.


    The first legion, led by Count Charles, included the elite court knights, totaling nearly 100. They even had heavy cavalry.


    The second legion was equally formidable, boasting 70 knights.


    The third legion had a similar number of soldiers to the fourth but included 50 knights.


    In contrast, the minor noble alliance had only 36 knights remaining, having lost 21 in the previous battle.


    The disparity was glaring.


    Adding to Michael''s frustration was the allocation of the 20 court knights to the first legion. Though Count Charles had promised that personal spoils could be kept, this maneuver now seemed like a calculated ploy.


    The alliance nobles were furious that the fourth legion had been given the least number of knights. Complaints would only be met with excuses about spoils distribution, so they resolved to fend for themselves.


    Some even boasted about their skills, claiming they didn''t need help. To Michael, it sounded like sour grapes.


    Still, what could he do? These nobles would rather die than admit weakness. Though Michael couldn''t understand their pride, he had no choice but to go along with it.


    "This cursed world," Michael thought. "If I don''t change the way people think, we''ll all suffocate in this nonsense."


    Due to their contributions in the previous battle, Michael and Baron Crassus were each placed in charge of a regiment. Michael was given command of the fifth regiment in the fourth legion, while Baron Crassus led the sixth.


    As if offering a token of goodwill, Count Charles assigned serf-soldiers to their regiments.


    Each regiment received a hundred serf-soldiers, and Michael was speechless.


    There were different classes of serf-soldiers. The first class consisted of war captives from other nations who couldn''t afford ransom. The second class were those who sold themselves into servitude to survive. Michael suspected that the soldiers assigned to them were from the lowest tier of the second class.


    The serf-soldiers assigned to the fourth legion appeared malnourished and frail¡ªmore suited for burial than battle.


    "It seems we''ve certainly earned Count Charles''s ire," Michael remarked dryly.


    Baron Crassus nodded solemnly. "That much is clear."


    The entrenched elites were clearly trying to suppress the rising influence of the minor noble alliance. This was the result of the larger nobles working together to undermine them.


    Left with no alternative, Michael clenched his teeth and summoned the soldiers of the fifth and sixth regiments to one corner of the camp.


    "Let''s get to work," he said grimly, as preparations for another grueling round of training began.


    Other nobles in the alliance did not follow Michael''s example. In this era, the value of systematic training was poorly understood. They failed to grasp the advantages of discipline and formations.


    Moreover, even within the alliance, the pursuit of glory turned allies into rivals. There was no need to urge the others to train. Allowing them to lag behind was enough to satisfy any moral obligations.


    Michael implemented a mentorship system, pairing each trained soldier from Crassus Barony with a serf-soldier for one-on-one instruction.


    The results were remarkable.


    The training began in the morning and continued until midday, just before the march. The frail serf-soldiers were transformed into something resembling proper troops.


    Intensive, hands-on training proved highly effective. Michael noted that as long as the training didn''t devolve into blind harassment, this approach could yield excellent results.


    Meanwhile, Count Charles was secretly meeting with the other factions, excluding the minor noble alliance.


    Though the delay in departure was regrettable, Michael could only scoff at the typical arrogance of those who underestimated the enemy.


    Once his secret meetings concluded, Count Charles confidently declared the start of the expedition.


    The hasty alliance forces, freshly assembled, lacked cohesion, and as soon as they set out, their disorganization became glaringly apparent.


    The accelerated pace of the march only worsened matters. What began as small cracks in the operation would inevitably grow larger as the campaign continued.


    Michael read the orders handed down to the minor noble alliance and let out a bitter laugh.


    "So that''s what all those secret talks were about¡ªsetting us up with this nonsense," he thought.


    The alliance''s new mission was to oversee supply transport.


    Carts loaded with food and hay began gathering near the fourth legion''s camp.


    In theory, protecting the supply convoy was a vital task, but in practice, it was thankless.


    Supply soldiers rarely ventured into battle. Instead, they stayed at the rear, guarding the convoy. Without opportunities to engage the enemy, the alliance nobles would neither earn accolades nor claim spoils.


    If the convoy was successfully protected, it would simply be expected. If anything went wrong, the blame would fall squarely on them.


    In a campaign against fanatics, where the enemy had no strategy beyond killing and burning, the likelihood of an attack on the supply convoy was slim.


    Still, without enemies to fight, the alliance would return from the campaign empty-handed.


    Michael didn''t yet realize that the nobles of this era considered attacking supply lines dishonorable. Knights and soldiers were expected to face each other head-on. Ambushes or subterfuge were seen as shameful.


    The era was rife with tragic strategists who had been scorned for daring to think outside the box, bearing titles like "Coward King Richard" or "Treacherous John." This, too, was a value system Michael hoped to reform. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "This is ridiculous!" Baron Aramund grumbled. "How are we supposed to achieve personal glory with this mission?"


    His complaints stirred similar murmurings among the alliance nobles.


    The alliance began to fracture under the weight of dissatisfaction.

 Chapter 33 - 33

    Michael shook his head, marveling at Count Charles''s cunning. It was obvious he had assigned this task to sow discord among the minor nobles.


    Many families had already lost soldiers without earning notable achievements. If the campaign ended with the alliance simply guarding supplies, only Kensington and Crassus would emerge with meaningful contributions.


    Greed was a powerful motivator, and resentful gazes began to turn toward Baron Kensington.


    "Baron Kensington!" one noble demanded. "What do you plan to do about this? At this rate, we''ll lose soldiers for nothing!"


    Kensington clenched his fists, seething with anger. While Count Charles''s machinations infuriated him, the accusations from his allies were even harder to bear.


    "These wretched pigs," he thought. The same nobles who had cheered him on now turned on him without hesitation. He wanted nothing more than to lash out at them.


    Seeing Kensington''s rising frustration, Baron Crassus stepped in.


    "This infighting is exactly what Count Charles wants," Crassus said. "We must stay calm."


    "Hah! Easy for you to say," another noble shot back. "You already have your achievements. Splitting the gains between Kensington and Crassus is fine for you, but what about the rest of us? We''ve lost men with nothing to show for it!"


    The room erupted in arguments until Baron Kensington raised his voice.


    "Enough! I''m no shameless man. If we protect the supplies and see this mission through, I''ll ensure the spoils are distributed according to casualties. Will that suffice?"


    The bickering subsided.


    Kensington''s willingness to take a loss left the others with little room to argue.


    All eyes turned to Baron Crassus, who suddenly felt cornered. Were they expecting him to share his hard-won achievements as well?


    Before the situation could escalate further, Michael stepped forward.


    "I have a plan," he said. "One that will let us achieve both glory and profit. Shall I explain?"


    Michael smirked slyly as he waved the command scroll in his hand.


    "The orders have been issued, so our task is to execute the supply mission perfectly. That''s not likely to be difficult. We''re at the very rear of the army, and unless the fanatics annihilate all the legions ahead of us, there''s little chance of losing the supplies. And, as you can see, the orders don''t say anything about us not earning merit."


    Baron Aramund, impatient as ever, grumbled, "What merit could we possibly earn while guarding supplies? Like you said, there''s no chance the fanatics will even get close to us."


    "We''ll split into two groups," Michael proposed. "One group stays behind to guard the supplies while the other takes on a side mission."


    "A side mission? What kind of side mission?"


    "Think about it," Michael said. "Most of the fanatics are concentrated at Crowley Castle. The first, second, and third legions are advancing ahead of us at an increasing pace, so they won''t have the resources to reclaim occupied villages. The fanatics remaining in those villages are likely minimal, with most of their forces supporting the castle. So, we leave soldiers and some knights to guard the supplies, gather an elite team, and use the three beast mounts to liberate villages.


    "I spoke to Baron Kensington earlier," Michael continued. "He said the three beasts can carry up to 100 people in total and are available if needed. With their speed, we can scout for suitable villages to reclaim. If things get dicey, we can retreat quickly. That way, we earn merit and seize spoils."


    The nobles exchanged wide-eyed glances.


    Baron Kensington''s jaw dropped. "So that''s why you asked about the mounts earlier?"


    Michael''s reasoning was sound. Villages occupied by fanatics wouldn''t be nearly as fortified as the ones near Crowley Castle. The number of fanatics would likely only amount to a few dozen. Killing them all might not result in significant merit, but the real goal wasn''t merit¡ªit was acquiring resources.


    Even if they encountered more fanatics than expected, retreating as Michael suggested would mitigate the risk.


    The idea of reclaiming villages was just a pretext. The true aim was to loot and recover wealth.


    The nobles exchanged knowing looks, silently agreeing on the brilliance of the plan.


    Meanwhile, at Crowley Castle, Leonardo, the high priest, necromancer, and fervent worshiper of the Outer God, stood at the highest point, letting the wind sweep over him.


    He was exhilarated.


    The great and beautiful goddess had spoken to him¡ªa mere servant.


    [Le-Leonardo, are you there? I require more offerings. The stronger they are, the better. The ones you gave me before were delicious. Bring me more of such offerings.]


    Leonardo fell to his knees, bowing in reverence.


    "Oh, most noble one whose name cannot even be uttered, I will soon deliver more offerings to you. I''ve heard that foolish mortals are marching toward us, unwittingly presenting themselves as sacrifices for your greatness. By drawing them in and killing them, we can summon even more followers."


    The goddess laughed, and the sound crushed Leonardo''s soul, leaving it in pieces. Yet he found the experience euphoric.


    "Ah, my goddess..."


    This power¡ªthis was it. A force unparalleled, one that had torn its way into this world.


    He was intoxicated by it.


    What of the old gods? Were they not once like his goddess¡ªforeign entities to this realm? Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The ignorant masses refused to acknowledge the Outer Gods as legitimate deities, but Leonardo''s perspective was different.


    Witnessing the birth of a new god and her worshipers was, to him, a divine mission.


    A new era was dawning.


    In a hundred years, a thousand years, or ten thousand years, the story he was shaping would become mythology, and he would be its prophet.


    Leonardo struggled to contain the overwhelming emotion surging within him. This was a rare chance to hear the voice of the goddess, and he wouldn''t waste it.


    "Oh, great goddess! I am your first¡ª"


    His words faltered as he realized something was amiss.


    The goddess''s voice had vanished.


    "Goddess...? Goddess!"


    Elsewhere, Alfred stood in the depths of the mountains, outside a dark cave.


    The trail had ended here.

 Chapter 34 - 34 Let’s Take Up a Side Hustle

    Raising his hand, he shattered the barrier guarding the cave like glass.


    As the barrier broke, a foul stench seeped out from the cave''s depths, causing him to wrinkle his nose.


    "I''ve found the right place," he muttered.


    For his beloved grandson, swift action was necessary. Alfred stepped into the cave, the stench growing stronger with each step.


    At the cave''s end, "she" awaited.


    Her long black hair flowed like a waterfall, framing a face of divine beauty. Her pale, ample bosom only added to her ethereal allure.


    But the enchantment ended at her navel.


    From the waist down, she was a massive spider¡ªa grotesque blend of woman and arachnid.


    It was her. The target.


    [Who-who are you? How-how did you find this place?]


    The creature was visibly startled, sensing a power far beyond that of any human.


    Fear radiated from her as she trembled before the undeniable gap in strength.


    "It doesn''t matter who I am," Alfred replied coldly. "A mere fragment of an Outer God, pretending to be a deity."


    [Si-Silence! How dare you call me a fragment? Insolent fool! I will tear you apart myself!]


    "Do I look like one of your idiotic priests?" Alfred sneered. "Spare me the theatrics."


    [You insolent wretch! I am the great and terrifying goddess of dread!]


    Alfred''s eyes, which had been gazing at the spider-woman with boredom, suddenly blazed with fury. Those who knew him would have been shocked to see such a strong display of emotion.


    "To dare speak the word ''dread'' in my presence!" Alfred roared, raising his hand.


    Shadowy vines rose from his arm, surging toward the spider-woman. She screamed helplessly, her cries enough to shatter an ordinary human''s soul. Yet Alfred stood unaffected.


    Was he even human?


    The spider-woman, weakened from piercing the material realm, could not resist. The shadowy vines bound her completely.


    [Screeech! Who-who are you? How do you wield the power of dread? Are you her descendant? No... That cannot be. She is gone. How does such power still exist in this world?]


    Greed flickered in the spider-woman''s eyes. If only she could make that power her own...


    But as the thought crossed her mind, her world flipped upside down.


    [Wh-what is happening?]


    The world spun around her, and she found herself looking at her own severed body¡ªa beautiful upper half atop a grotesque spider lower half.


    Her thoughts ceased there.


    Alfred nudged the rolling head with his foot until it stopped, then approached her main body.


    Slashing it open, he extracted its core, a small orb that pulsated faintly with power. A rare smile crossed Alfred''s grim face.


    "This will suffice to seal ''that thing'' and solve Michael''s problem," he murmured.


    Meanwhile, Leonardo was in chaos.


    The connection to his goddess had been severed, and he could feel her presence fading entirely. All that remained was the power she had bestowed upon him¡ªthe ability to charm and manipulate others.


    But what use was that power if the goddess herself was gone?


    Consumed by despair, Leonardo let out a guttural scream of rage.


    Hearing his cries, the priests he had personally appointed and empowered came running.


    "High Priest! Are you alright?"


    Leonardo collapsed into a chair, his movements sluggish and resigned.


    "None of this matters anymore," he muttered. "Not those fools outside, not these wretched worshippers. Without her, what''s the point of it all?"


    He waved dismissively at the priests.


    "I''m fine. Leave me."


    "But the screams¡ª"


    "I said leave!" he bellowed.


    The priests exchanged uneasy glances before retreating. Once outside the tower, they shook their heads. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Same as always," one muttered.


    "Shh! Be quiet," another hissed. "Do you want to end up as food?"


    The bald priest who had spoken first shivered, recalling the horrors of their sacrifices to the spider entity. People had been torn apart, their bodies devoured, and even their souls consumed.


    "Ugh. If I''d known it would be like this, I''d have stuck to being a bandit," he grumbled.


    "Shut up! Do you want to get caught?"


    The bald priest fell silent but couldn''t help thinking about how much things had changed.


    Once, they had been carefree bandits. Now, their former comrades danced naked and crazed, invoking a goddess with manic fervor.


    Forced to join in the bizarre rituals, he often felt overwhelming shame.


    Still, survival demanded that he play along. With a sigh, he trudged toward the base of the castle.


    Leonardo paced the tower, biting his nails. His mind was clouded and chaotic.


    In his haze, he sensed a faint aura.


    "My goddess!"


    He was certain it was her. But why was her power so weak? And why outside the cave?


    Had she escaped from the forces of Radiance, concealing herself in a weakened state?


    Fury boiled within him.


    "Damn Radiance!" he spat. "Those meddlesome dogs, always interfering!"


    Consumed by anger, he sought out his deputy priest.


    After berating the man for his tardiness, Leonardo calmed slightly.


    "I have somewhere to go," he announced. "The rest is up to you."


    The deputy priest was alarmed.


    "High Priest, may I ask where you are going?"


    "You may not, fool. Just do as I say."


    "But the Blood Quill¡ª"


    "You deal with it! I have urgent matters to attend to."


    Strapping on his satchel, Leonardo leapt from the castle wall.


    The corpse golem waiting below caught him effortlessly.


    Perched atop his 3-meter-tall masterpiece, Leonardo pointed decisively.


    "Go! To where I sense the goddess''s aura."


    The deputy priest, also known as Orpheus, a covert priest of Radiance, stood dumbfounded.


    This was disastrous.


    All the meticulous planning was now on the brink of collapse because that idiot had fled.


    "What do I do now?" Orpheus muttered, clutching his head.


    Finding and manipulating that dim-witted necromancer into using the Blood Quill had been no small feat.


    The plan had gone perfectly¡ªturning bandits into priests, killing Baron Crowley and his family, and transforming the barony''s population into fanatics.


    With the arrival of Radiance''s forces, the fanatics would have been effortlessly defeated.


    How was he supposed to explain this debacle when his comrades arrived?

 Chapter 35 - 35

    Frantically wracking his brain, Orpheus realized the situation might work to his advantage.


    That stubborn necromancer had always been difficult to control.


    Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise.


    All he needed to do was outfit one of the dead bandits in a hood and carry on as planned.


    Radiance''s ultimate goal was to restore faith by staging a theatrical triumph.


    The barony''s unfortunate inhabitants, turned into unwitting fanatics, would play their roles in the grand performance.


    Orpheus felt no pity for them.


    To him, they should consider it an honor to serve as tools for the glory of Radiance.


    "All proceeds as intended," he muttered.


    When the holy knights arrived, they would annihilate the fanatics, allowing the Blood Quill to be sealed once more.


    But there was no need to inform the world of its re-sealing.


    Instead, the clergy of Radiance would demand that all citizens across the continent receive monthly blessings to ensure the Quill''s containment.


    Recalling the applause he had received when proposing this plan to Radiance''s leadership, Orpheus''s chest swelled with pride.


    "This isn''t a conspiracy," he thought. "It''s Radiance''s guidance for a wayward world. Let there be light!"


    As dusk fell over the forest, Alfred hefted the unconscious necromancer onto his shoulder.


    "Such a fine gift for my grandson," he mused with a faint smile.


    Count Charles ascended a hill on his chimera, surveying the chaotic formations of the allied forces below. The sight was headache-inducing. He had been aware that the coalition army''s capabilities varied widely, but he had underestimated just how disorganized they were.


    Barely into the march, the troops had already descended into disorder. The pace of the march had to match the slowest units, making any effort to maintain cohesion nearly impossible.


    No matter how much the vanguard, the 1st Corps, accelerated, it was futile. The 2nd Corps lagged behind by half the distance, followed by the 3rd Corps, and somewhere far at the rear, the 4th Corps, responsible for logistics, was completely out of sight.


    Count Charles''s frustrations mounted further when a message arrived from the 4th Corps. They reported that they could not keep up with the march because they lacked sufficient beasts of burden, forcing soldiers to pull the supply wagons themselves.


    The count fumed as he read the dispatch.


    "What kind of unit is this? How could they possibly be short of animals for the wagons?"


    His adjutant quietly provided an explanation.


    "Your Excellency, the 4th Corps includes Baron Kensington. It seems their supply wagons rely on his war beasts for transport, which leaves no spare livestock. Additionally, the oxen we sent were used as food for the beasts, and the horses were allocated to replace those lost by knights during yesterday''s skirmish. Baron Kensington has stated that if his war beasts are deprived of food or overburdened, he will send them back to his territory."


    "Th-that...!" Charles spluttered, suppressing his anger. "Fine. Fine! Tell them to follow as best they can."


    The reasoning was sound. In a confrontation with a necromancer, three war beasts were a significant asset.


    Moreover, each soldier carried at least a day''s worth of rations, so the delay of the supply wagons was manageable.


    After all, Charles himself had maneuvered to assign the 4th Corps to logistical duties. He reassured himself that the slow pace of the other corps meant they could all rendezvous at the camp that night.


    While the sluggish pace of the march had been justified, a new conflict arose among the minor nobles of the 4th Corps.


    Someone had to oversee the soldiers transporting the supplies, but no one wanted the task.


    Baron Kensington scanned the gathered knights and nobles, hoping someone would volunteer.


    "Come now," he urged, "it''s crucial that we safeguard the supplies. Someone responsible, diligent, and capable must stay behind to lead the corps. Who will step forward?"


    The group collectively avoided eye contact, each hoping someone else would take on the dull and thankless duty.


    Michael, observing the standstill, realized he would have to step in once more. Without decisive leadership, the corps would never make it to camp by nightfall.


    "Let''s do it this way," Michael proposed. "Whoever stays behind to oversee the supplies will still receive an equal share of the spoils."


    Even then, no one volunteered. The nobles grumbled inwardly¡ªwhat use was a share of the spoils when the thrill of combat and plunder lay ahead?


    Baron Kensington felt his frustration rising. He, of all people, wanted to be part of the vanguard. As one of the poorest nobles present, he could ill afford to pass up the chance for loot.


    "Michael, you''re the most intelligent and capable among us," chimed in Baron Brun, one of the senior nobles, with a sly smile. "Surely you''re the best candidate for this task."


    Michael shot a glare at Brun that could have pierced steel.


    Before he could respond, his father, Baron Crassus, stepped forward.


    "Is that how you treat the architect of this plan?" he rebuked. "If no one else will take the responsibility, I will. My son still has much to learn through firsthand experience in battle. It''s only right that the older generation handles this."


    Michael looked at his father, deeply moved. While the elder Crassus often played his role as a parent in his own gruff way, Michael truly appreciated the gesture this time.


    Baron Crassus''s declaration prompted several other senior knights to step forward, all of them experienced veterans without heirs to risk in battle.


    Their collective agreement silenced Brun, who retreated sheepishly, realizing he''d drawn the ire of the older knights.


    With the looting, or rather, the "village reclamation force" decided, Baron Kensington mounted his griffon and soared into the skies.


    He flew cautiously, mindful not to climb so high that he''d be spotted by other corps, nor too low to risk hitting tree branches. His mission was to scout for villages worth reclaiming, where his mounted team could follow.


    Though it pained him to push his treasured war beasts to their limits, he steeled himself¡ªprofits awaited. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 36 - 36 Jackpot!

    Thanks to the griffon''s speed, the reconnaissance was completed quickly. The chosen village, once wealthy, showed clear signs of enemy occupation but seemed poorly defended.


    The operation began swiftly. Mounted on the war beasts, Michael marveled at their agility and speed. For the first time, he experienced their convenience and vowed to someday acquire one for himself.


    The reclamation force dealt with the scattered fanatics swiftly. Though the village''s defenders fought fiercely, they lacked the numbers or organization to resist the coordinated attack.


    As the fighting subsided, Michael couldn''t help but feel a sense of triumph.


    "Jackpot," he muttered under his breath.


    The fanatics who weren''t in the presence of their commanders were like lifeless puppets, mindlessly charging forward with vacant stares. Dispatching them was a quick and easy task for the invading force.


    Inside the grain guild''s storage, sacks of wheat, oats, and barley were piled high. Unlike typical rebels, who would have either stolen or destroyed such resources, these fanatics seemed to have left everything untouched¡ªlikely due to their unnatural allegiance to the Blood Quill.


    This worked out perfectly for the invaders, as there was plenty to "reclaim." The nobles and soldiers eagerly raced toward the village''s mansions.


    Michael chose a nearby manor, deciding not to waste time searching for a larger or more extravagant one. Efficiency trumped greed.


    Upon entering, he began stuffing silver candelabras, gilded picture frames, and other valuables into a sack.


    Before he realized it, Miaomiao¡ªhis deceptively innocent-looking sphinx companion¡ªhad brought him a string of large pearls in its mouth.


    Moments later, it returned with a sapphire ring and even a small gold ingot.


    Michael beamed, petting the feline.


    "Well done, Miaomiao! You seem to like shiny things, huh? Good kitty."


    The sphinx, Neferteri, nearly choked on indignation. How could someone be this dense? She had to stifle the urge to reveal her true identity. If Michael didn''t even suspect her, what would be the point? To admit it now would be beneath her dignity.


    Sighing, Neferteri trotted off to fetch more treasures.


    ''Still, I do like shiny things,'' she admitted to herself, her tail flicking in amusement.


    In no time, their haul had filled the sack: 12 silver candelabras, three gilded frames, a pearl necklace, a sapphire ring, five gold ingots the size of a finger, and 300 gold in coins.


    Michael secured the sack onto the wagon outside. "A knight''s honor," he thought, assured that no ally would dare to pilfer from another''s haul.


    With Neferteri leading the way, they moved to a second house. This time, the feline chose a modest two-story residence.


    Inside, Michael noticed something unusual¡ªa lit candle in the parlor.


    Given the abandoned state of the village, with dust covering every surface, the presence of a burning candle was a clear anomaly.


    Picking it up, Michael''s eyes widened in delight.


    "A magical candle! Miaomiao, you''ve done it again!"


    These enchanted candles, found only in the finest noble homes, emitted a bright, steady light akin to electric bulbs and produced no soot. Nearly perpetual in their use, they were both practical and prestigious.


    Satisfied, Michael began meticulously searching the house. If they had magical candles, what other treasures might be hidden here?


    In the dining room, he discovered a tray with fresh food¡ªa steaming bowl of soup, an apple, and perfectly cooked bacon. Intrigued, he bit into the apple, which was crisp and bursting with flavor.


    "A magical serving tray?" he muttered, astonished. While not particularly practical for everyday use, such trays were a favorite of nobles during lavish banquets. This was a prime find, perfect for selling when he traveled to the capital.


    It was now evident¡ªthe house''s owner wasn''t just wealthy; they were a magic artisan capable of creating enchanted items. Michael''s excitement reached a fever pitch.


    Scooping up Neferteri in his arms, he pressed his cheek to her fur.


    "You''re my lucky charm, Miaomiao!"


    The sphinx squirmed, meowing in protest, but Michael held tight, basking in the soft swats of her paw against his face. Even her faint huff of indignation couldn''t dampen his spirits.


    In the bedroom, Michael struck gold¡ªliterally and figuratively.


    He found a leather pouch that, upon opening, revealed a dark, endless void. A spatial pouch.


    "Jackpot!" he exclaimed.


    With trembling hands, he explored its contents: 450 mana stones, a unicorn horn, leaves from the Tree of Life, basilisk venom, and countless other rare and valuable ingredients.


    Even a small vial of dragon''s blood was tucked inside. Though he wasn''t sure of its exact use, Michael knew it was invaluable. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Holding the pouch close, Michael vowed to keep it on him at all times. This was not something to leave on a wagon.


    As he prepared to leave the bedroom, Neferteri began scratching furiously at a section of the bookshelf.


    "What''s this?" he murmured, pulling on the book she had marked.


    With a creak, the bookshelf rotated, revealing a hidden staircase.


    Michael stared at the dark passage, excitement coursing through him. But just as he took a step forward, Neferteri blocked his path, hissing and headbutting him away.


    "Alright, alright, I get it. It''s almost time to regroup," Michael said, misinterpreting her warnings. "You''re so clever, Miaomiao."


    Neferteri let out an exasperated sigh. She had already disabled the self-destruct enchantment, but she knew this was no place for Michael. The magic in this hidden chamber was far beyond his capabilities.


    With a mix of reluctance and determination, Michael left the house, marking its location in his memory. He''d return when better prepared.


    As he rejoined the group, he couldn''t help but grin.


    This raid had been far more rewarding than he had imagined.


    After raiding three more houses, Michael couldn''t help but feel a tinge of disappointment. The last few yielded only gold and silver treasures, lacking the rare magical artifacts he''d previously discovered.


    Still, with his pockets heavier, he felt unusually content. It''s true what they say: wealth brings peace of mind.


    Exhausted from the relentless scavenging, Miaomiao clung to Michael''s shoulder, letting out soft, pitiful meows.

 Chapter 37 - 37 The Raiding Party

    "Tired, huh? You''ve worked hard," Michael said with a warm smile, stroking the feline''s head.


    "Tonight, I''ll treat you to something special."


    The tiny purring that followed made Michael''s chest feel light and warm. He resolved to serve Miaomiao the finest beef available.


    On their way to the designated meeting point in the village square, the streets were chaotic. Nobles and their retainers darted about like locusts during harvest season, all frantically searching for loot.


    Upon reaching the square, Michael spotted Kensington Baron feeding a cow to his Great Worm, an enormous 8th-tier magical beast. Curious, Michael approached him.


    "Brother Vincent, you''re already here? Didn''t think there''d be any cows left in the village."


    Having been ordered to address the baron as "brother" instead of the more formal "uncle," Michael had reluctantly agreed to the odd request. Despite the 25-year age gap, Kensington seemed insistent.


    "Of course. This isn''t our last stop, after all. Found it half-starved and tethered in a barn. Figured it''s better off feeding my Gaius II than dying here."


    Michael raised a brow, suspecting Kensington had probably been the first to grab any valuable livestock during reconnaissance. Still, given the risks the baron often took, Michael decided to let it slide.


    Kensington gazed lovingly at his monstrous worm as it finished devouring the cow, its wriggling form almost dancing with delight.


    "Adorable, isn''t he?"


    Michael forced a smile.


    "...Charming, I suppose."


    "His father was being sold on the black market. Barely managed to save him and start breeding this magnificent line. Took a lot of effort¡ªand dragon blood¡ªto make it happen."


    At the mention of dragon blood, Michael''s ears perked up. He had wanted to ask about it since discovering the vial in the magical pouch.


    "Is it true dragon blood is essential for breeding magical beasts?"


    "Well, nothing awakens a beast''s potential like it. It even makes breeding easier. The best stuff is dragon''s pure blood, though that''s beyond someone like me. Only the richest or most powerful can afford such a luxury."


    Michael nodded in understanding. Dragons, classified as 1st-tier magical beasts, were intelligent creatures capable of speech and unparalleled strength. Their blood was rare and extraordinarily valuable.


    "How did you come to know so much about this?" Michael asked.


    "Our family keeps a record of such things. Old experiments from wars between dragons and humans are well-documented. I''ll lend it to you someday if you''re interested."


    Michael''s eyes lit up.


    Knowledge was the rarest and most valuable currency in the world. Most noble families guarded theirs fiercely, so Kensington''s offer was a rare gift.


    As they talked, Michael''s gaze drifted to a Bronco Lizard nearby. The massive creature was munching on tree trunks instead of leaves, its appearance reminiscent of the sauropod dinosaurs from Earth.


    "Is that Bronco a 9th-tier magical beast? How much gold would it take to acquire one?" Michael asked, half-joking.


    Kensington laughed heartily. "If you marry my youngest daughter, I''ll throw him in as part of the dowry."


    Michael''s face twitched slightly, but he kept his composure, forcing a polite smile.


    "Marriage is a matter for my parents to decide. But I''m curious¡ªhow did you come by this Bronco?"


    "Ah, my sweet Galatea. She was up for auction on the black market. Some brutes were planning to sell her as meat¡ªcan you imagine? There are people who believe eating dragon meat prolongs your life. Ridiculous. Of course, since she belongs to the dragon species, she almost met the same fate. Luckily, I arrived in time for the auction. She was about the size of a dog back then, but look at her now¡ªa perfect specimen."


    Michael took in the gentle gaze of the Bronco Lizard. It was enormous, its size comparable to a small two-story house. Capable of carrying 70 men at once, faster than horses, and docile by nature¡ªit was the ultimate beast for logistics and exploration.


    Kensington, clearly fond of his collection of beasts, rested a heavy hand on Michael''s shoulder.


    "So, you like magical beasts, eh? My youngest is quite the beauty, takes after me, of course. Come visit when you want to see those family records¡ªI''ll make sure you meet her."


    Michael resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his smile growing increasingly strained.


    Kensington was a towering figure, over 190 centimeters tall, with fiery red hair and a rugged beard. He looked every bit the archetypal mountain bandit, albeit dressed in noble attire.


    "Perhaps when things are less chaotic, I''ll visit. But tell me, how much did you pay for Galatea?"


    "Hm¡­ about 7,000 gold, I think. The bidding started at 1,000, but I got carried away. You know how rare live magical beasts are. Even with lower-tier ones, living specimens are ten times more expensive than their cores. While 9th-tier beasts aren''t too uncommon, Galatea is part dragon, so she''s naturally pricier. My first Great Worm, Gaius I, was much cheaper."


    Michael sighed in frustration.


    It was no wonder Kensington had gone from being one of the wealthiest lords in the northeastern territory to teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. Maintaining three high-tier magical beasts was a staggering financial burden.


    Between the cow-devouring Great Worm, the tree-munching Bronco, and the Griffin that required buckets of offal for each meal, it was a wonder the baron had any gold left at all.


    Looking at the relatively modest gains from today''s raids, Michael felt a pang of despair. Even after hauling so much loot, he could barely afford half a Bronco Lizard. S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Still, as the gathered nobles prepared for the next target, Michael steeled himself. Tomorrow would be better, and for now, he''d work with what he had.


    The raiding party climbed back onto their beasts, heading toward the next village already scouted by Kensington.


    There was no telling what treasures they''d find next.


    After raiding two more villages, Michael and his comrades returned, utterly exhausted. The mental toll of picking and choosing the wealthiest houses was worse than the actual battle.


    With so many "dud" houses, the knights who struck gold found themselves the target of envious glares.

 Chapter 38 - 38 Take My Son With You

    Luckily for Michael, he had struck early and fast, so no one truly knew the extent of his haul. His relatively small stack of sacks didn''t attract much attention, keeping him out of the spotlight.


    But Michael knew better. His share was undoubtedly the largest, thanks to his "lucky charm," Miaomiao. Every house the cat led him to turned out to be a treasure trove.


    Even if none could match the marvels of the mage''s house, each stop had been lucrative in its own way.


    Rejoining the supply convoy, the raiding party eventually arrived at the camp, well past the hour of midnight. Other divisions had long since finished their meals and settled in for the night.


    After notifying Count Charles of their return, Michael and the other noble representatives hastily scarfed down some rations before gathering in Kensington Baron''s tent.


    There was still much to do¡ªchief among them was the exchange of spoils.


    The nobles displayed their treasures, trading items they didn''t need for those they did. What one found useless might be another''s prize, and Michael approached the task with keen eyes.


    A few chose to leave their rewards behind for those who had remained with the supply unit. Kensington, as usual, set an example by generously allowing those left behind to pick freely from his share. The baron''s selflessness earned him a wave of admiration from the crowd.


    Michael quietly observed the goods on display. He paid particular attention to works of art. Most northern nobles lacked the refinement to appreciate such pieces, which could lead to spectacular opportunities for those who could.


    Thanks to the education passed down by Lincoln, Michael recognized the value of artistry and rare artifacts.


    Among the offerings, he noticed several promising paintings and approached the owner of one.


    "How much are you asking for this painting?"


    The seller, a grizzled old knight, glanced dismissively at the piece.


    "This? Ten gold should do. Some fool grabbed it, saying it was pretty, but it''s just taking up space. Wooden frame, nothing special. Better to get some coin for it."


    Michael turned his attention to the young man behind the knight, likely the "fool" who had chosen the painting. The wiry youth didn''t seem to fit the typical mold of a northern noble¡ªhe looked more suited to wielding a pen than a sword.


    "A fine eye your son has," Michael began with a small smile. "You might not realize, but this painting is a masterpiece. It''s a 300-year-old portrait of a Caprice Kingdom princess, painted by none other than Bellastes, the royal court artist.


    "This piece was thought lost during the kingdom''s fall 170 years ago. If you took it to an auction in the capital, it would fetch no less than 1,000 gold."


    The knight''s stern face softened as he turned to his son, a proud smile forming.


    "Well, I''ll be damned. My boy really does have an eye for these things!"


    He turned back to Michael, gratitude plain on his face.


    "Bless you, young man! You could''ve kept quiet and bought this off me for ten gold, made a killing at my expense. How can I repay you for your honesty?"


    Michael leaned in slightly and whispered a suggestion.


    The old knight listened intently, his face breaking into an expression of awe.


    "Smart, resourceful, and honest¡ªa rare combination! Consider it done. Oh, and, young man, would you consider taking my son under your wing? He''s still a squire, but he''s got potential.


    "If he were born to a wealthier house, he might already be a knight. Poor lad''s stuck with a rusty old codger like me for a father. Take him, and I''ll send 50 gold each year as a training stipend."


    Michael smiled inwardly at the knight''s calculated move. This was precisely why he had chosen to approach a noble with influence and a good reputation.


    Turning to the nervous young squire, Michael asked, "What''s your name?"


    The youth, unable to meet Michael''s gaze, stammered, "I-I''m Julian, sir. I look forward to serving you."


    The old knight clapped his son''s back so hard that the younger man wobbled under the impact.


    "Take good care of him, will you? I''m no seer, but I know talent when I see it. He''ll make a fine knight someday¡ªand bring honor to our house."


    Pushing Julian toward Michael, the old knight''s eyes shone with unshed tears. His pride and love for his son were evident.


    "I''ll leave my boy in your capable hands. Meanwhile, I''ll go spread the word about your expertise in appraising art!"


    With a cheerful wave, the knight strode off, loudly boasting about Michael''s skills to his peers.


    Soon, other nobles approached Michael, asking for his help in assessing their treasures.


    As he accepted offers of appraisal fees, Michael struggled to suppress a grin.


    "Jackpot."


    The morning dawned clear.


    Michael, who had fallen asleep only at dawn after staying up late to process a torrent of emotions, forced his tired eyes open. Nearby, his newly recruited squire, Julian, was meticulously adjusting his armor. Unlike the younger Alex and Anthony, Julian had a habit of seeking out tasks to do without being told, which made him seem quite capable.


    Noticing Michael rising, Julian approached and stood politely before him.


    "My lord, Count Charles has sent a message. He requests your presence in his tent as soon as you awaken."


    Michael frowned slightly. Something felt off. He briefly reviewed his recent actions, wondering if he had made any missteps. As long as there wasn''t a spy among the serf soldiers sent by Count Charles to the Small Nobles'' Alliance, there should be nothing to criticize. Even if there were spies, it would have been impossible for them to see the 100 knights leaving for their raid from the position of the serf soldiers.


    Still... S~ea??h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As he began to ponder further, Michael shook his head. He would find out soon enough.


    When Michael arrived at Count Charles''s tent, the Count was in the middle of having breakfast.

 Chapter 39 - 39 Taking Care Of The Counts Son

    "Oh, Sir Michael! Come in. I''ve had a meal prepared for you as well. Servant, bring in the food!"


    Michael sat down, his guard not entirely hidden. Shortly after, a servant dressed immaculately entered with a well-prepared tray. The meal was overly luxurious for a battlefield: rich tea accompanied by cream and sugar, freshly baked bread, bacon, prosciutto, scrambled eggs, butter, and milk.


    Indeed, high-ranking nobles were on a different level.


    "This is a splendid feast. I won''t refuse," Michael said, digging in.


    After finishing his meal and sipping tea, the conversation turned to business. Count Charles clasped his hands together and fixed his gaze on Michael as he began.


    "Sir Michael, I''ve heard of your exploits. They say your quick judgment was key to entering the fortress first. How old are you?"


    "I turned 17 this year," Michael replied.


    "Ah, an early awakening to aura! If I may be so bold, I''ve heard you didn''t grow up in a castle. Who taught you swordsmanship?"


    "My maternal family oversees five territories as executioners. I grew up there and learned the beheading blade technique from my grandfather. I''ve had no other formal instruction."


    Count Charles''s eyes sparkled.


    This was precious.


    A raw talent who had awakened aura without growth stimulants or formal swordsmanship training! A rough diamond, the finest grade of all.


    "Ha ha! Truly remarkable at such a young age. You have a shining gift. I understand you were appointed heir after your brother''s death. The burden must feel heavy all of a sudden. Are you coping well?"


    Michael found the Count''s sudden familiarity unsettling. What was he after? He studied the Count with wary eyes. Sensing Michael''s apprehension, the Count cleared his throat and got to the point.


    "Ah, well... The truth is, you remind me of my son. My youngest is about your age. I plan to assign him to the supply unit, and I was wondering if you could keep an eye on him. What do you think?" S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Count Charles''s youngest son was the apple of his eye, a late-born child cherished despite already having an heir who had grown old enough to give him grandchildren. The boy had been force-fed growth stimulants to artificially awaken aura, but such an awakening made him only a half-knight at best.


    The young man''s first campaign had left him terrified. As the battlefield drew nearer, his silence and shrinking demeanor had worsened. Unable to bear it any longer, Count Charles had made this decision. He had tried scolding and cajoling his son, but there was little he could do about the boy''s timid nature.


    If anything went wrong, it would be disastrous. He intended to protect his son by assigning him to the safest position at the rear while also observing Michael''s character.


    Michael, however, was flustered. He had raids to carry out!


    "I''m afraid I lack the qualifications to accompany your son. Perhaps a more experienced knight would be better suited?"


    The Count laughed heartily.


    "Ha ha! No need to worry. My son has already agreed and is eager to befriend you. Being a late-born child of high status, he has no peers his age. Forming a friendship with you would be ideal."


    Count Charles had other intentions as well. The Crassus Barony was in an excellent position to be drawn into his influence. Protecting his son while assessing Michael''s character, and perhaps even marrying off one of his daughters if Michael proved worthy, seemed like a solid plan. His fourth daughter, though born of a concubine, was legally adopted by his first wife, which would make her an acceptable match for the Crassus family.


    While the Count indulged in his schemes, Michael was speechless. If he took responsibility for the Count''s youngest son, he would have to abandon the raid. Worse, if the boy were to get injured or killed, it would spell disaster.


    He would be saddled with a useless burden. Yet, there was no way to refuse. Feeling as though he had been struck by lightning on a clear day, Michael was near tears. His plans for a profitable raid that day were dashed.


    It seemed he would have to ask his father to take charge of the operation instead.


    "Well, then. Let me introduce you to my son. Bring Louis in!"


    Moments later, the tent''s entrance opened, and a young man with unremarkable brown hair and a fragile demeanor entered. His expression was somber. Glancing briefly at Michael, he quickly bowed his head.


    "I am Louis Brian de Charles. Please take care of me."


    Resigned, Michael had no choice but to accept.


    "Likewise, I am Michael von Crassus. I look forward to working with you."


    Back at the camp with the timid Louis in tow, Michael sought out his father. He needed his father to take charge and secure plenty of spoils in his stead.


    "This is how things turned out, Father. Please lead the recovery mission for me."


    Baron Crassus sighed. Their family''s lack of influence had reduced them to caretakers for others.


    "Well, there''s no helping it. Now that it''s come to this, do your best to get along with him. Ensure he stays out of danger."


    "That''s my plan. The Count must truly care for his son; he assigned twelve knights to guard him. If I place him among them, he won''t slow us down."


    "Good thinking. And be careful with your words. Count Charles wouldn''t send his son out for such a simple reason. He likely has an ulterior motive, though we don''t know what it is yet. Don''t give him any reason to find fault with you.


    "Still... who could I blame for having such an outstanding son? It''s all because of you."


    Despite his words, the Baron''s face was full of pride and joy. The root of this issue was, after all, his son''s exceptional talent.


    No matter how much Michael tried to hide his brilliance, it was impossible to suppress it. Like a needle piercing through cloth, his talents inevitably showed.


    Seeing his father practically glowing with pride, Michael cleared his throat.


    At least he seems to be taking this well, Michael thought.

 Chapter 40 - 40 The Frustrated Raiding Forces

    Michael discreetly saw his father off, doing his best to divert the attention of Louis and his escort knights. He had wanted to send Miaomiao along with his father, but that proved impossible. The determined feline clung to Michael''s shoulder, digging in with its claws and flailing wildly, making it impossible to pry the cat off.


    In the end, Michael could only hope his father had a good eye for valuable goods.


    The remaining supply unit commanders were all old knights who had sent their heirs off to join the raiding forces. Being the only young man present, Michael naturally became the focus of everyone''s attention.


    The old knights chuckled and left all the responsibilities to Michael, riding leisurely at the rear of the unit and chatting amongst themselves as if they were on a pleasant outing.


    With the leadership in such disarray, the supply unit''s discipline was in shambles. The procession resembled a disorganized mass of writhing worms rather than a military unit.


    Michael took a deep breath, striving to calm himself as he observed the chaos. If nothing else, the experience was a lesson in patience and discipline. He felt as though he might ascend to enlightenment at this rate.


    Still, something had to be done. While he couldn''t set overly high standards for soldiers who weren''t even under his direct command, the current state of affairs was unacceptable. At the very least, they needed to resemble a proper army.


    Michael opted for his final and best solution, one that was a bit forceful but necessary under the circumstances. For a disorderly rabble like this, the harshest methods were often the most effective.


    He began by assigning one of his personal guards to each wagon in the convoy.


    "You are now responsible for the soldiers assigned to your wagon," Michael instructed them. "You will move, eat, and sleep together. Ensure that the soldiers watch over one another. Enforce the rules. Any soldier who breaks formation or disobeys orders will be punished with the whip. Conversely, those who perform well will be rewarded. Every soldier must understand that they share life and death with their wagon mates.


    "If any soldier abandons their post or disrupts the formation, the entire wagon team will go without food. On the other hand, wagons that maintain discipline and perform well will be rewarded with meat and wine. Soldiers may only go hungry, but I will personally punish the guards responsible for lapses. I will not tolerate disorder among my subordinates."


    After surveying the soldiers to gauge their reactions, Michael continued in a commanding voice.


    "Do you think I''m bluffing? Test me, then. Any soldier who dares to disobey military orders will be hanged. And if anyone thinks they can escape responsibility by deserting, know this: your families¡ªyoung and old alike¡ªwill be executed. Their bodies will hang at the village gates for all to see.


    "Remember, I am a man of clear rewards and punishments. Lead your wagon and soldiers well, and you will be rewarded in kind. Understood?"


    A resounding "Yes, sir!" erupted from the soldiers.


    Michael had effectively introduced collective responsibility within the supply unit. Though harsh, it was undeniably effective. While such measures were unsuitable for long-term use, they were practical in a short-term crisis like this. S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    For the majority of the wagon guards, who were serf soldiers, hunger was the ultimate punishment, while the promise of meat and wine was the highest incentive. Michael aimed to instill in them the importance of working together.


    When the army resumed its march, Michael prepared a feast during the midday break.


    He began roasting the game he had hunted earlier, letting the savory aroma waft through the entire supply unit. Soon, soldiers received salted roasted meat, and the taste left them longing for more.


    Compared to the bland, hard rations they had been eating, the meat was a revelation. Following the roasted meat, Michael served a stew made with peppered meat. Even the tough rations softened when soaked in the rich broth, transforming into a meal that was surprisingly enjoyable.


    Once they had experienced good food, the soldiers became motivated. They worked together, eagerly taking initiative, and the procession gradually became more orderly.


    Though the pace remained consistent with the raiding forces they had to keep up with, discipline was finally taking hold. Michael''s efforts paid off, even if it meant using up the bags of salt and pepper he had seized from the village the previous day.


    As good food became available, the soldiers'' opinion of Michael skyrocketed. He transformed in their eyes from a tyrant to a noble benefactor. There was a reason modern armies focused so heavily on improving rations; in the dreariness of military life, good food could be a great morale booster.


    Watching this transformation from the sidelines, Louis was in awe.


    He had learned about using rewards and punishments to command and train soldiers, but this approach was entirely new to him. Watching the soldiers unite and strive to outdo one another impressed him deeply.


    Now Louis understood why his father had sent him to observe Michael.


    At the same time, in the eighth village, Baron Kensington was on the verge of losing his mind.


    There was not a single piece of gold or silver to be found, and the grain storages were completely empty. It was as though the fanatics had suddenly developed foresight, fleeing with all their belongings.


    Every village they raided was the same. This was the third village in a row to yield no spoils.


    During reconnaissance, the fanatics had appeared to be aimlessly wandering about like zombies, and the villages had seemed untouched. What could have caused such a drastic change?


    Now, with nothing to show for their efforts, Baron Kendington and the raiding troops could only stare blankly at one another. It was maddening.


    While Michael pressed ahead with his training and the Small Nobles'' Alliance raiding forces were steeped in frustration, Leonardo, a priest of the Outer Faith, was enduring his own torment.

 Chapter 41 - 41 Whats Going On?

    Not only had he failed to rescue the goddess, but he had been captured and was now at the mercy of a monstrous man¡ªif the creature could even be called human.


    ''How did I end up here?'' Leonardo lamented, tears streaming down his face. "Goddess, please forgive your unworthy servant!"


    If there were anyone left in the world still unyielding in their faith, Leonardo wished he could introduce them to this monstrous elder. A few beatings, and they too would abandon all convictions, pleading for mercy as he had.


    Alfred, the monstrous elder, watched Leonardo mutter with disdain. Leonardo, trembling under Alfred''s sharp gaze, hurried to organize his subordinates to carry the loot.


    All the storage pouches were now full, leaving them no choice but to use the corpses to transport more goods. His loyal followers had been reduced to mere porters.


    The humiliation was unbearable.


    ''Damn monster!'' Leonardo thought, glancing nervously at Alfred.


    As if it weren''t enough to be dragged along like a sack of grain, Leonardo was now forced to scavenge every village they passed, gathering anything of value with the skeletons and zombies under his command.


    He felt utterly defeated and dejected.


    ''One day, I''ll rescue the goddess and escape this monster''s grasp.''


    No matter what plans Leonardo devised, Alfred paid him no mind. To Alfred, Leonardo was nothing more than a bonus gift for his grandson.


    Unintentionally intercepting all the spoils meant for the Small Nobles'' Alliance, Alfred was quite satisfied with the treasures he had amassed for his grandson.


    Oblivious to his new role as a "buy-one-get-one-free" gift, Leonardo worked tirelessly. Not that it mattered¡ªknowing wouldn''t improve his situation anyway.


    Baron Kensington and the other nobles returned empty-handed, their expressions laden with disappointment and frustration. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As the army marched onward, Michael managed to slip away from Louis and his escort knights, approaching the Baron with concern.


    "What happened? Why have you come back empty-handed?"


    "Ah... It seems those fanatics have finally caught on. They''ve disappeared, taking all their valuables with them. Even the granaries were completely empty. I suppose this is the end of it," the Baron replied with a weary sigh.


    "Don''t give up yet," Michael suggested. "Tomorrow, focus on smaller villages. They likely didn''t have time to send their followers to collect everything from those."


    Baron Kensington''s eyes lit up at the suggestion.


    Of course! Smaller villages, ones not connected to major roads, were bound to have something worth taking.


    Michael then briefed the Baron on the training conducted that day. As the leader of the Alliance, the Baron deserved respect, even if his performance left much to be desired.


    Unimpressed but unwilling to bother further, Kensington dismissed Michael, instructing him to manage things until the supply unit rejoined the main forces. For good measure, he gave Michael the nominal title of deputy commander to make his authority clear.


    That evening, Count Charles scouted for the next campsite, growing increasingly anxious.


    With the fanatics spreading like a plague, there was no telling when they might invade his lands. Yet, the army''s sluggish pace made him uneasy.


    At this rate, it would take them five days to cover a mere 40 kilometers.


    Calling for Louis''s escort knight, Chris, the Count inquired about the cause of the delays.


    "So, what''s slowing the supply unit down?"


    Chris hesitated before responding. "It''s... a dire situation, my lord. The wagons are being pulled by people, not animals, and the majority of the soldiers are untrained serfs. Naturally, their pace is slow. Honestly, I didn''t understand it at first, but after observing their efforts, I can see they''re all trying their best."


    Chris, who had been impressed by Michael''s tireless efforts during the training exercises, unintentionally found himself defending the young knight. Unlike the older knights, who idled at the rear of the convoy, Michael had been the only one actively managing the soldiers.


    Unbeknownst to Chris, the older knights were absent because they were busy pillaging. With everyone''s stories aligned, Chris had no reason to doubt the narrative.


    Hearing this, Count Charles had no choice but to pray the fanatics wouldn''t descend upon his lands.


    In truth, Charles had little reason to worry. The fanatics had no plans to approach his domain, as their appearance was part of the Lumina Holy Nation''s grand scheme.


    Three days earlier, Orpheus, the sub-priest, had been in a secret meeting with Xenon, the leader of the Seventh Holy Knights, dispatched by the Holy Nation.


    According to the original plan, Count Charles''s punitive force should have arrived by now and engaged the fanatics in battle. However, the punitive force was nowhere to be seen.


    Their arrival was crucial to the Holy Nation''s agenda¡ªa grand spectacle to announce the revival of the Lumina faith.


    Growing impatient with the punitive force''s snail-like pace, Orpheus decided to deal with a thorn in his side in the meantime.


    Sliding a pouch of 10,000 gold coins across the table to Xenon, Orpheus said, "I hope this will suffice."


    Xenon peeked inside the pouch and smiled broadly. "Ha! You certainly know how to make a point. Now, tell me about this so-called priest."


    Orpheus, relieved that his gesture had been well-received, explained, "I regret to inform you that I let that corpse peddler slip away. I''ve found someone to impersonate him for now, but if he resurfaces, it could become problematic."


    "Hmm. So you need him captured and eliminated?" Xenon asked, his tone casual.


    "Yes," Orpheus replied, feigning remorse. "At first, I thought he might have caught on and fled, but upon reflection, it seems more likely that he''s returned to that wretched fragment of the Outer God he worships. He''s been known to offer sacrifices there on occasion."


    Xenon nodded in understanding. With the hefty bribe in hand, there was no reason to refuse. He had also brought a sacred relic designed to detect traces of the Outer God, so the timing was perfect.


    "I''ll handle it," Xenon assured him. "Fortunately, His Holiness granted me a relic capable of sensing the presence of the Outer God. It will make the task much simpler."


    Xenon''s connection to the Holy Nation''s pope was well-known, as was the nepotism within the church''s upper echelons.

 Chapter 42 - 42 Maybe An Opportunity

    Flattering Xenon, Orpheus said, "Your Excellency, you truly embody the grace of Lumina. I''m in awe of your wisdom and power."


    Pleased by the praise, Xenon tucked the pouch into his sleeve and stood. "Then I''ll begin immediately. Lend me 300 of your sturdier fanatics. I''d rather not waste my knights on this task."


    Orpheus led Xenon out of the chamber, the two discussing their next steps. While Orpheus had little faith in Xenon''s abilities, he trusted in the relic''s power.


    Now, their only remaining task was to find and eliminate the Outer God''s fragment while waiting for the punitive force to arrive.


    Entering the forest, Xenon activated the sacred relic. The device, resembling a compass, emitted a faint glow and a subtle vibration.


    Three distinct signals appeared.


    Xenon frowned. Why were there three traces of the Outer God?


    The closest one, he reasoned, was likely the blood-marked target. Another must belong to the fragment of the Outer God accompanying the priest. But what of the third?


    Did this mean another trace of the Outer God had appeared within a 300-kilometer radius?


    That would complicate things.


    "Ah, I see now," Xenon muttered, studying the relic closely.


    One of the signals was weak, suggesting it merely marked an item imbued with the Outer God''s essence. That could wait. After dealing with the fragment, Xenon planned to retrieve the item and sell it at auction¡ªthere was always a market for such relics.


    Focusing on the relic''s guidance, Xenon began moving deeper into the forest, followed by his knights, 300 fanatics, and priests tasked with controlling the fanatics.


    Among the group was Albert, a bald former bandit who had unexpectedly found himself ordained as a priest of the Outer God. Nervous and uneasy, he couldn''t shake the feeling that something was amiss.


    The disappearance of the high priest was suspicious enough, but the man they were now following, appointed by the sub-priest, looked far too much like someone from the Lumina church.


    Albert, the bald man who had once been a bandit and now found himself an unwilling priest of the Outer God, was tense.


    Despite his rough past, he had always adhered to certain principles. Orphaned and raised in the temples of the Lumina Church, he could recognize the signs others might miss. The silver armor adorned with the church''s sacred insignia was unmistakable.


    He held his breath as dread washed over him.


    Though he had chosen this path in the hopes of helping bring about change, as his former leader had envisioned, things had taken a darker turn. His companions were becoming increasingly deranged, and he felt fear tightening its grip around him.


    This wasn''t the life he had wanted. He had to escape¡ªno matter the cost.


    Xenon advanced with the sacred relic in one hand and the hilt of his sword gripped tightly in the other. Three days had passed since he began tracking the aura of the Outer God.


    The accursed aura kept moving, and its path was perplexing.


    Was the priest heading toward the capital with the Outer God fragment in tow?


    The trajectory suggested as much, and that posed a significant problem.


    The punitive force was supposed to stage a grand performance by slaying the fanatics in front of the capital. If the Outer God itself made an appearance, it would create chaos, rendering the situation uncontrollable.


    Xenon needed to resolve this matter before the priest reached the capital.


    The relic''s signal grew stronger with each passing moment, vibrating more intensely to indicate the proximity of the Outer God''s presence. Xenon pressed on, determined to follow the trail.


    Eventually, he stopped in shock. From a distance, he could see the punitive force''s encampment.


    What was this incompetent priest doing here?


    Could he be hiding among the troops, disguised as one of them?


    Xenon deliberated for a moment before reaching a conclusion: this might actually be an opportunity.


    By orchestrating a small skirmish to draw part of the punitive force into danger, he could then "rescue" them with his knights and gain their trust. Once embedded within the troops, he could discreetly locate and eliminate the Outer God and its priest.


    With the sacred relic in hand, this plan seemed feasible.


    After discussing the plan with his subordinates, Xenon selected a priest of the Outer God to carry out the task. It was the bald one¡ªAlbert¡ªwhose audacity to meet his gaze directly had irked him from the beginning.


    The next morning, Baron Kensington and Michael decided to demonstrate progress by increasing the supply unit''s marching pace by one kilometer per day. The move was meant to impress Louis and his escort knights.


    Michael made a deliberate show of bustling around the camp, urging soldiers to hurry, all while Louis and Chris observed.


    The soldiers played along, motivated by the knowledge that more spoils would mean larger rewards for themselves. Their performance grew increasingly convincing by the day.


    Watching the chaotic yet strangely effective preparations, Louis and Chris were left speechless. Managing to safely transport supplies under such conditions, without deserters or major incidents, was a feat in itself.


    Louis''s admiration for Michael deepened. What had initially been a superficial desire to befriend him had transformed into genuine respect. According to the rules of nobility, the more competent allies one had, the better.


    Despite increasing the pace, they delayed their departure from camp as much as possible. They needed time to ensure the raiding knights had returned before the supply unit arrived at the next campsite.


    Half a day passed as other units moved ahead. Finally, the supply unit began its slow march, prompting Baron Kensington and his knights to slip away to their next raid.


    Michael, watching his father depart once again to earn their keep, sighed and returned to training the soldiers.


    Using wagons as props, the training focused on building strength and teamwork. They practiced maneuvering through difficult terrain, defending the wagons, and maintaining formation.


    By noon, the soldiers had improved remarkably. No one had to endure the punishment of skipping meals¡ªa significant achievement.


    Everyone shared hearty bowls of porridge enriched with meat, eating together in good spirits. Michael joined them, eating the same meal as the soldiers.


    S§×ar?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 43 - 43 Paolo Fiery End

    After finishing his meal, Michael stood to enjoy a cup of tea when a soldier came rushing toward him, looking panicked.


    "Sir! A situation, sir!"


    The soldier was unfamiliar to Michael.


    "I¡ªI went to fetch water and saw something strange in the forest. A group of fanatics performing a ritual!"


    "Are you certain?" Michael asked, his tone sharp.


    "Yes, sir! They were definitely fanatics. Their faces were painted red, and they were dancing. I saw it clearly!"


    Michael scrutinized the soldier. He was a bald man with a well-fed appearance, his head flushed red with excitement, his lips glistening with saliva as he spoke.


    "Hmm. I see. Were there many of them?"


    "No, sir. Just a few. If you send the knights, they''ll be easy to handle!"


    Michael''s interest faded. So, there really were forces foolish enough to use such incompetent spies.


    The soldiers of the Fifth Legion had long been trained to speak with precise responses. The bald man''s clumsy attempt at subterfuge only solidified Michael''s suspicion.


    Sending knights into the forest now, in response to such a dubious report, was too convenient a trap.


    "Well done," Michael said, feigning approval. "You''ve earned your reward. Kneel."


    The bald man obeyed, kneeling before Michael. With a subtle signal, Michael gestured to Julian and Alex, who quickly bound and gagged the man before he could utter a sound.


    Once the spy was secured, Michael issued orders to the camp.


    "All units, prepare for defense! Soldiers, form a defensive square around the wagons and stay vigilant. We will maintain this formation as we move."


    If the enemy intended to lure them into the forest, it was imperative to secure their position and leave the area as quickly as possible. In war, seizing the advantageous ground was always the priority.


    From his hiding spot in the underbrush, Xenon waited for the knights to charge into the forest. His plan was to rescue them from the chaos and emerge as a hero.


    But as time passed, no one came.


    "What... what is going on?" Xenon muttered, baffled by the turn of events.


    The priest of the Lumina Church, Paolo, who had accompanied Xenon on this mission, felt like he was at the end of his rope.


    The boy named Michael seemed far too timid to be coaxed into the forest. At first glance, Michael had appeared inexperienced and young¡ªsomeone who would easily take the bait and rush in. Paolo had been certain he would leap at the chance to claim glory.


    Who could have predicted that this cowardly boy would refuse an opportunity to make a name for himself?


    Initially, Xenon, the captain of the Holy Knights, had been pleased with the plan and confident in its success. But as time dragged on, his face darkened, eventually turning crimson with rage.


    Six hours had passed since Paolo had used the blood sigil to incite the fanatics into a frenzy. For those six hours, the priests had danced themselves to exhaustion. Many of the frenzied fanatics now teetered on the edge of collapse, their bodies giving out under the strain of the life-force-draining rituals.


    Paolo glanced at the fanatics, their veins rupturing from the strain, and felt like crying. He couldn''t let this continue any longer.


    Magic that drained vitality always carried consequences. These fanatics would soon fall dead if nothing changed.


    Paolo hesitated, torn between waiting or launching a direct attack on the supply unit.


    Drawing the enemy into the advantageous terrain of the forest seemed impossible now. The enemy numbered 1,200. Attacking with 300 fanatics in the forest against a smaller group of knights was one thing, but confronting a combined force of knights and soldiers on open ground would be suicide.


    If the supply unit prevailed, any reinforcements arriving later would seem opportunistic rather than heroic. Paolo had no desire to risk his life under such circumstances.


    But retreating now would mean abandoning the frenzied fanatics. What would happen to them? Was he supposed to bury all 300 of them in the forest, having accomplished nothing?


    While he wrestled with his options, the decision was taken out of his hands.


    Xenon stormed over, unable to contain his frustration any longer.


    "Brother Paolo, what is the meaning of this? Your ''brilliant'' plan has backfired and left us stuck here! What will you do if these fanatics lose control and die on the spot? Take responsibility now! Set those wretched fanatics ablaze and use them to inflict damage! There are supplies and fodder stockpiled with the enemy¡ªwhy haven''t you considered using fire? Or is it that you value your miserable life too much to act? Fool! If you don''t want me to kill you myself, charge at them now!"


    Paolo felt a wave of injustice wash over him. It was Xenon who had come up with the plan in the first place; he had only added a few details to flesh it out.


    But who could argue against the one holding the higher rank?


    "A hypocrite through and through! May the gods curse him!" Paolo cursed silently, though he was in no position to criticize. After all, he had been instrumental in turning ordinary villagers into fanatics.


    When one''s own life was on the line, however, perspectives changed.


    Forced to charge at the enemy, Paolo cursed his fate. I should have just launched a direct attack! At least then I wouldn''t have to die!


    The fanatics, their expressions blank, doused themselves with oil. Once they exited the forest, they would set themselves alight.


    Leading the charge, tears streaming down his face, Paolo sprinted ahead, drenched in holy oil. But what greeted him left him stunned. S§×ar?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The enemy, whom he had expected to remain huddled defensively, was nowhere to be seen.


    They''re gone!


    Why had he assumed they would stay in place?


    As Paolo and Xenon waited futilely for the enemy to approach, the supply unit had long since departed.


    Paolo turned to retreat, but it was too late. Around him, human torches began to ignite. The fanatics, having left the forest, were setting themselves on fire.


    "No! Stop! Don''t come near me! No!!!"


    The fanatics¡ªno, the brainwashed villagers¡ªadvanced toward Paolo, their bodies engulfed in flames.


    Whether their actions were driven by revenge or madness, they smiled as they burned, advancing toward the man who had destroyed their simple lives.

 Chapter 44 - 44 The Lumina Holy Nation

    From a distance, Xenon watched Paolo meet his fiery end. He dusted off his sleeves and turned away.


    "What a fool," he muttered.


    This simple task had been completely botched. Xenon had hoped to appear as a hero, celebrated and admired. Instead, this failure would mar the Lumina Church''s century-long plan, one centered on the power of the blood sigil.


    His fury grew as he recalled the young commander of the supply unit. That impudent brat!


    Xenon seethed at the thought of having been outmaneuvered. The inability to deploy wyverns for reconnaissance while hiding in the forest had cost him dearly. Had he been able to use them, this humiliation could have been avoided.


    Drawing a holy sign and composing himself, Xenon began gathering his comrades to devise their next move.


    "All glory to Lumina!"


    "All glory to Lumina!"


    "Let there be light!"


    Meanwhile, Michael continued advancing his wagons, maintaining a square formation and keeping a vigilant eye on the surroundings. The entire supply convoy had long since left the forest behind.


    Far behind them, smoke rose from where the spy had been captured.


    Of course they''d resort to fire, Michael thought, noting the large quantities of food and fodder the enemy had likely set ablaze. He praised his own quick thinking for avoiding the ambush and pressed on.


    There was no time to concern himself with the knights who had gone raiding. He had left a trail marked with spices for the Great Worm to follow, ensuring they could catch up.


    Knowing there were enemies on their tail, Michael focused on finding a suitable location to establish a defensive position. In war, securing advantageous ground was paramount.


    Before long, they found the perfect site for a stronghold.


    It was a natural fortress, surrounded on three sides by steep cliffs, with only one narrow entry point.


    Michael quickly gave orders for the soldiers to begin fortifying the area.


    The first task was to fell nearby trees to create a wooden barrier. The strong wooden walls would encircle the camp, providing much-needed protection.


    The soldiers moved efficiently, following Michael''s instructions with precision. The chaotic, undisciplined group they had once been was a distant memory.


    Finally, Michael instructed the soldiers to build a watchtower slightly taller than the barricades, using earth and wood at the cliff''s edge. From there, they could monitor the surrounding area and anticipate any attacks.


    The watchtower was intended to monitor enemy movements and, if necessary, fire arrows. By the time darkness fell, the fortress was nearly complete.


    Michael ordered the soldiers to rest and ensured they were well-fed. The soldiers ate hurriedly, their faces resolute.


    Having pushed and pulled wagons together, they had forged strong camaraderie. Once merely comrades-in-arms, they now trusted one another like brothers.


    After finishing his meal, Michael climbed the watchtower to survey the camp. Satisfied with the orderliness, he instructed his squire, Alex, to bring the bald spy captured earlier in the day.


    Albert, the former bandit turned fanatic priest, was dragged in, bound and bent awkwardly like a shrimp. His face was a mess of tears and snot, and though he tried to scream, the gag reduced his cries to incoherent sounds.


    With a calm demeanor, Michael directed that Albert be tied to a chair. Then, he began pulling tools out of his bag one by one.


    Finally, the lessons Michael''s grandfather had taught him as a child¡ªhow to use pliers¡ªwould come in handy. Although he hadn''t directly learned these techniques, the memories were clear. What difference did it make, anyway? He carried the same soul, didn''t he?


    Humming a tune, Michael took out a pair of pliers, wire cutters, a hammer, a soldering iron, and a hook, laying them out in an orderly manner.


    Albert squirmed in his bindings. Why is this knight smiling? Why is he humming? And why are torture tools spilling out of his bag?!


    With a pleased expression, Michael picked up the hook. Albert, realizing he was about to be hoisted by his collarbone and hung from the ceiling, struggled desperately.


    "Please! I''ll tell you everything! Just take the gag off! Shouldn''t you ask questions before you start torturing me? Isn''t that the proper order of things?"


    Michael paused, realizing he hadn''t started with questions.


    "Ah, my apologies. It''s my first time, and I got a little carried away. So, what should I ask first?"


    The moment the gag was removed, Albert began babbling at high speed, terrified the smiling knight might gag him again.


    "Everything! I''ll tell you everything! Please, just spare me! I''m from Sorel, a domain on the western edge of the Kingdom of Lania. My father and mother died in a war with the neighboring domain when I was a child..."


    Albert''s lengthy personal history soon turned into a ramble. But when Michael''s gaze grew sharp and impatient, Albert quickly got to the point.


    "After that, I became a bandit and lived well enough until one day, this guy Leonardo showed up. He said he was starting some religion and... uh, his subordinate, I think his name was Orpheus or something¡ªthe sub-priest¡ªanyway..."


    Michael sighed. So much for testing the pliers handed down through generations. He hadn''t even had a chance to squeeze a single finger, and Albert was already spilling his secrets like a flood.


    "So, after Leonardo disappeared, the sub-priest ordered you to travel with the Holy Knights? Are you certain they''re Holy Knights?"


    "Yes, yes! Without a doubt. I grew up in a temple of the Lumina Church, so I can recognize their armor and insignias anywhere. Those knights are definitely from the Lumina Church."


    "Hmm..." S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael nodded. The story was plausible. From the blood sigil''s appearance to the Holy Nation''s swift involvement, things had felt suspicious from the start.


    Now, with Albert''s testimony, Michael''s suspicions were confirmed. This so-called fanatic uprising was a fabrication orchestrated by the Lumina Holy Nation.


    Thinking of the continent''s current state¡ªwhere royal authority and religious power clashed¡ªand recalling the ruined Crowley Barony and its innocent people, Michael felt a surge of anger.

 Chapter 45 - 45 No Matter How You Look At It Miaomiao Is Just A Cat

    But what was done was done. Spilled water couldn''t be scooped back up.


    After a moment of mourning, Michael began calculating how best to use this situation to benefit himself and his territory.


    Exposing the Holy Nation''s scheme wasn''t an option. He lacked hard evidence, and his sole witness was a former bandit turned fanatic priest. Such claims would earn him nothing but ridicule¡ªor worse, an assassination attempt.


    Michael thought back to his previous life. Adhering strictly to principles had earned him nothing but mocking nicknames like "pedantic" or "clueless." Back then, being alone, he could afford to rebel passively against society. But now, he had too much to lose: his family, his territory, and his people.


    As a noble opposing the Holy Nation''s influence, expanding his domain and increasing his power would strike a far greater blow against them than any public expos¨¦.


    Still, Michael felt relieved to learn there was no immediate threat of a fanatic attack. According to Albert, the blood sigil''s effects lasted only six hours, after which the fanatics would collapse, lifeless. Enough time had passed that they were surely corpses by now.


    With his mind made up, Michael ordered Albert to be tied up in a corner of the camp and left the tent. It was time to focus solely on his own gains and those of his territory.


    Meanwhile, Baron Crasus, consumed with worry for his son, arrived at a frantic pace.


    Michael was his only remaining heir¡ªa capable and precious child he cherished above all else. When the Great Worm detected the danger signal left by the spices, the Baron had rushed toward the source in a state of panic.


    His anxiety only subsided when he saw the fortified camp. Spotting his son among the vigilant soldiers, he examined Michael carefully, ensuring he was unhurt.


    "What happened here?" the Baron asked, relief evident in his voice.


    Michael smiled at his father''s concern. There was no need to share the day''s revelations. In an era dominated by religion, Michael could process events rationally thanks to his modern mindset, but his father might not see things the same way. It was better to control variables whenever possible.


    "We encountered an attempt by fanatics to lure us into the forest. Fortunately, we spotted it in advance and avoided the area. I decided it was better to secure a favorable defensive position and prepare for a potential ambush rather than pushing to rejoin the main force immediately."


    "Well done," the Baron replied with a nod. "From tomorrow, we should focus on advancing. It seems there are no more villages worth stopping for."


    Shortly afterward, the other knights and Baron Kensington arrived. Hearing Michael''s account, they agreed with the decision to prioritize movement over further raids.


    With plans made for the next day, everyone dispersed to their tents.


    Michael, after assigning soldiers to keep watch, retired to his own tent. Exhausted, he quickly fell into a deep sleep.


    Hours later, he was jolted awake by a frantic voice.


    His face stung for some reason.


    "Wake up, Michael, you fool! Wake up right now!"


    Miaomiao was speaking human words, smacking Michael''s cheeks relentlessly with its paws. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Is this... a dream?


    A winding dirt path stretched ahead, narrow and overgrown, far removed from the polished, packed trails where the wagons of the supply unit had passed. Following Miaomiao''s directions, Michael veered onto the smaller path, sprinting swiftly through the shadows of overhanging branches.


    In the distance, lights flickered¡ªa campsite.


    "That''s them, right? The Holy Knights with the relic that can detect me?" Michael asked, his voice low.


    [That''s right,] Miaomiao replied. [If they come to your camp, join forces with your group, and discover you, it''ll be a disaster. You need to either destroy that relic or deal with those knights first.]


    "How many knights are there?"


    [From what I can sense, about 50. That''s an entire division¡ªstubborn, relentless, and annoyingly persistent.]


    Michael exhaled deeply. A talking cat seemed strange enough, but the revelation that an Outer God had partially merged with him wasn''t all that shocking anymore.


    He had suspected something like this for a while, but Miaomiao?


    The self proclaimed ancient divine beast insisted it was a being of immeasurable greatness, but no matter how Michael looked at it, Miaomiao was just a cat.


    From behind them, a wheezing voice interrupted his thoughts.


    "Ah, Lady Nephertari, I can''t run anymore. Just kill me and drag me along!"


    [You fool, Hoff! This is your fault. Who told you to team up with Alfred and summon an Outer God? This is your mess too, so take responsibility! Now, stop whining and come here!]


    Hoff, an old man with a trembling white beard, looked as though he might collapse. Like Michael, he had been unceremoniously dragged from his sleep for this mission.


    Michael glanced at Hoff, his lips twitching into a wry smile. "Grandpa Hoff, we can see the knights now. You don''t have to run anymore. Just lower your voice and come this way quietly."


    Hoff eyed Michael warily. Ever since learning that an Outer God had partially merged with him, the old man had been on edge.


    [Oh, you exasperating old fool! I told you, Michael is fine! The Outer God and Michael''s soul are separated. Why are you still hesitating?!]


    Hoff muttered under his breath, shuffling forward hesitantly. Frustrated, Miaomiao thumped its little paws against its chest, an act that only made it look cuter.


    [Hurry up! I need to cast the sleep spell, and you need to get closer for that! Now, come closer so I can jump onto your shoulder.]


    "Couldn''t Lady Nephertari just come here herself instead?" Hoff muttered, his tone tinged with rebellion.


    Miaomiao leaped onto Hoff''s shoulder, grabbing his white beard and tugging with surprising strength.


    [There! I came to you, just like you wanted, you miserable fool!]


    "Ah, mercy, Lady Nephertari! Please be gentle!"


    "Could you both please lower your voices?" Michael muttered, exasperated by their antics.


    After the brief commotion, Miaomiao created a protective barrier around herself and Hoff. Though she claimed it was a Sphinx-like ability, it didn''t seem magical¡ªit was as if they simply vanished from existence.

 Chapter 46 - 46 Damn Corpse Peddler!

    With this near-invisibility, they crept toward the Holy Knights'' campsite.


    As they approached, Hoff began murmuring incantations, pulling out strange powder and scattering it into the air. His legs trembled under the strain, but he kept at it until he finally shouted the spell''s trigger word:


    "Dormi!"


    The powder shimmered, glowing faintly as it dispersed across the campsite. The knights, previously standing watch around the campfires with bored expressions, began collapsing one by one, falling into a deep sleep where they stood.


    A hush fell over the camp, broken only by the crackling of the fires.


    Hoff exhaled deeply, surveying the scene with satisfaction. His spell had worked. Finally, he could relax without fear of Miaomiao''s constant berating.


    Or so he thought.


    Miaomiao, still perched on Hoff''s shoulder, yanked his beard again.


    [You fool! Don''t relax now! This isn''t over! Find the relic and destroy it!]


    With a resigned sigh, Hoff began picking his way through the camp, careful not to step on the slumbering knights. The flickering campfires provided just enough light to guide his steps.


    [Hurry up, Hoff! We don''t have much time!] Miaomiao urged.


    "Lady Miaomiao¡ªuh, Lady Nephertari¡ªperhaps if you were quieter, I could work faster," Hoff grumbled.


    [Who are you calling Miaomiao?! I''m Nephertari, you fool! Wait, what?!]


    Miaomiao fell silent, seemingly confused by its own identity crisis.


    At last, they reached the largest tent in the camp¡ªthe commander''s. If the relic was anywhere, it would be here.


    Quietly, they entered the tent. On the cot lay a middle-aged knight with graying hair, deep in slumber.


    Miaomiao tapped Hoff''s shoulder with her paw.


    [Alright, search that big, fluffy lump. He must have it on him.]


    "Did you have to phrase it like that? Couldn''t you just say ''conduct a search'' or something?"


    [Stop complaining! I don''t want to touch that furball myself!]


    Sighing, Hoff trudged forward. Fortunately, the knight wasn''t wearing his armor¡ªit seemed even knights didn''t sleep in such discomfort.


    Carefully, Hoff searched the knight''s clothing. After a moment, he felt something odd in one of the chest pockets. Reaching in deeper, he pulled out a small leather pouch.


    "There''s something here," Hoff whispered.


    [Open it!]


    Inside, he found an ancient compass-like object, engraved with intricate runes. The needle glowed faintly, pointing directly at the location where Michael was hiding.


    They''d found it!


    [That''s the relic! Be careful not to touch it with your bare hands.]


    "So, we destroy it, right?" Hoff asked. "We should make sure there''s no trace left¡ªno evidence pointing to us."


    [That''s the tricky part,] Miaomiao admitted. [Let''s regroup with Michael and figure it out together. Three heads are better than one!] S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "If only Alfred were here," Hoff muttered as he carefully placed the relic in his robe''s inner pocket, using gloved hands to avoid direct contact. He even slipped a small pebble into the commander''s pouch where the relic had been, ensuring nothing seemed amiss.


    [Exactly! Where has that man gone, leaving me to babysit humans? It''s an outrage! A Sphinx should live a life of leisure and dignity, not chaos and chores!] Miaomiao retorted, licking its paw in a show of indignation.


    Rejoining Michael, who had been waiting in the thicket, the group made their way out of the forest as quickly as possible. The sleeping knights would wake soon, and there was no time to waste.


    Back at the camp, the trio gathered in Hoff''s tent. With Michael''s squires present in his own, Hoff''s was the safest choice for their discussion.


    [Now, we need to destroy this thing!] Miaomiao declared, pointing at the relic.


    "Why don''t you return to your true form, Lady Nephertari? Wouldn''t that make it easier?" Hoff suggested.


    [Nephertari. Not "Lady Miaomiao." Ugh, whatever.] The cat sighed in frustration. [If I use my true form, the Holy Knights will sense the power surge immediately and come straight here. Use your brain, old man!]


    "Then why didn''t we destroy it on the spot?" Hoff grumbled.


    [Because the knights would''ve woken up and attacked us, you fool! Honestly, you''re hopeless!] Miaomiao batted Hoff with her paw in mock frustration.


    As the cat chastised the old man, Michael extended his hand toward the relic.


    [Wait! Don''t touch it with your bare hands! It''ll¡ªwait, what?]


    The relic, once solid and foreboding, crumbled to dust the moment Michael touched it.


    [Activation conditions met. Absorbing magical energy. Absorption complete. Insufficient conditions to use abilities. Shutting down function.]


    A warm energy flowed into Michael, filling him with a sense of calm. As I thought, he mused, a slight smile playing on his lips.


    "Penelope, how many times can I use abilities with the energy absorbed from this?" he asked inwardly.


    [With this amount of energy, you can use abilities seven times.]


    Seven?! Michael could barely contain his excitement. It was like absorbing the power of a thousand mana stones in one go. He suppressed an urge to raid every temple for their relics. Knowing the mechanism now, he planned to target high-quality remains to absorb in the future.


    The problem was finding someone truly powerful among the condemned. Given the randomness of absorption, even executing a skilled individual might result in useless abilities. Michael decided to simply absorb the condemned as he encountered them, leaving the selection to chance¡ªor perhaps research the graves of previously executed figures.


    Lost in thought, Michael was interrupted by Hoff''s frantic voice.


    "Michael, did you... did you just accept the power of the Outer God? This is terrible! Absolutely catastrophic!"


    Hoff paced the tent nervously, his hands tugging at his beard. Miaomiao rolled its eyes and tried to calm him.


    [It''s fine. Even trash can be useful in the right circumstances. Besides, Alfred is already looking for a way to seal the Outer God tied to Michael.]


    Hoff''s frantic movements slowed as he absorbed Miaomiao''s words.


    "What does it mean to accept the power of the Outer God?" Michael asked, turning to the cat.


    [Outer Gods tempt their believers by granting power. The type of power depends on the god. Usually, it''s an ability that elevates their divine status.]


    "How does that power manifest?" Michael pressed.


    [It varies. Some humans claim to have been seduced by a divine beauty, while others say a god descended directly.]

 Chapter 47 - 47 Never Seen A Cat Eat?

    Michael frowned in thought. Was it because of his modern mindset that the power manifested as a game-like system?


    "And this sealing business," Michael began. "If the Outer God is sealed, do I lose the abilities it granted?"


    Miaomiao let out a derisive snort. [Worried about losing your precious powers? Relax. Even if the god is sealed or destroyed, the abilities remain. The power has already been severed from the god, so it''s independent now. Many so-called ''heroes'' of old received their abilities this way. It''s a double-edged sword, though. The stronger the Outer God, the harder it is to seal. For a fragment like this one, a high priest with the right relics can destroy it. If it''s the god''s main body, only someone on the level of the pope can do it. And if the god descends in full, you''d need another god''s core to seal it. Judging by the strength of the relic we destroyed, the god tied to you is strong. Alfred will have his hands full.]


    Miaomiao finished with a mischievous chuckle.


    She enjoys Grandpa''s suffering, doesn''t she? Michael thought with a sigh.


    Hoff, shaking his head at their casual attitudes, muttered to himself, "Young people these days¡ªthey don''t seem afraid of anything."


    With Hoff still fretting, Michael and Miaomiao returned to their respective tents. The night was giving way to dawn, and some problems were best left for time to resolve.


    Meanwhile, back at the Holy Knights'' camp, chaos reigned.


    "It''s gone! Gone, I tell you! That damned corpse peddler¡ªI''ll kill him myself!!!"


    Xenon''s furious screams echoed through the forest as he cursed Leonardo for the vanished relic.


    At the same moment Xenon was throwing a fit, cursing Leonardo and hurling objects around his tent in a rage, the so-called "corpse peddler" was being carried along on the shoulders of an old man who resembled a monster.


    Surprisingly, Leonardo had begun to grow comfortable with the arrangement. The old man''s broad shoulders were stable, his stride steady and swift. It wasn''t much different from being carried by a corpse golem, after all.


    Perhaps it was Leonardo''s survival instincts, honed by years of enduring an abusive upbringing, that allowed him to adapt so quickly. Still, his thoughts strayed to the goddess he had been trying to protect. Her presence was growing fainter, and he feared she might soon fade entirely. He had to find her a new host body.


    But trapped as he was, his options were limited.


    Leonardo decided to try reasoning with the old man carrying him.


    "Sir, if I may, there''s a safe house within this territory where I keep my artifacts. You must be hungry, no? I left a meal untouched because I was called away by the goddess so abruptly. It''s probably still fresh. I even used a magical tray to preserve it. You don''t have to worry about hygiene¡ªone of my many talents back when I was a celebrated artisan. Before I became a necromancer, I crafted artifacts for prominent lords. My skill in working with corpses eventually surpassed my craftsmanship, so I shifted careers, but my reputation as an artisan was notable. If we could visit, I promise it wouldn''t interfere with your plans. Quite the opposite, actually¡ªit might help."


    Leonardo''s ability to ramble was impressive, especially while hanging upside down.


    The old man, Alfred, glanced at him with mild disdain but chose to ignore him. This one can''t be trusted, Alfred thought.


    Frustrated by Alfred''s silence, Leonardo became increasingly desperate. If he could just lure the old man to his safe house, he could activate the traps he had prepared there and eliminate him!


    "Sir, please. There are so many precious artifacts there. Leaving them would be a waste. By the way, how old do you think I am? I look like I''m in my twenties, don''t I? Actually, I''m over forty. I even have an artifact that restores youth! Judging by your imposing figure and sharp features, I''d wager you''ve made your share of women cry. With my artifact, you could¡ª"


    Before Leonardo could finish, Alfred smacked him into silence.


    Alfred had tolerated the man thus far because his summoned undead were performing their roles as porters adequately. But this incessant chatter had pushed him to his limit.


    Leonardo let out a muffled cry and fell limp. The undead, fortunately, continued their march undeterred.


    Good. Now this is more tolerable.


    As Alfred quickened his pace, the ribbon around Miaomiao''s neck swayed, indicating the direction they needed to go.


    Meanwhile, Michael''s day began on a lighter note. After completing his morning routine, his first order of business was to feed Miaomiao the special meal he had promised¡ªbeef.


    As Miaomiao ate noisily, Michael found himself reflecting on the events of the previous day.


    So it wasn''t a dream.


    [What are you staring at? Never seen a cat eat?] Miaomiao shot him a glance before returning to its meal.


    After finishing, the cat cleaned its face meticulously with its paw before hopping onto Michael''s shoulder.


    Talking cat or not, Miaomiao was still just Miaomiao. Michael decided it was better this way. If she could speak, she could be useful, and that was what mattered. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Several hours into their march, Michael finally relaxed. The Holy Knights hadn''t uncovered his involvement in the theft of their relic.


    [See? I told you no one would figure it out. They underestimated the wisdom of the great Sphinx. Next time, listen to me.]


    "What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three legs in the evening?" Michael asked suddenly.


    [Wait... give me a second.] Miaomiao''s brow furrowed in concentration.


    Amused, Michael left the cat to ponder the riddle as they continued toward Count Charles''s camp. By the time they arrived, the sun was setting.


    Having already sent word of their delayed arrival, Michael''s group was warmly received.


    "I''m glad you arrived safely. I heard there was trouble, but Sir Michael handled it admirably," Count Charles said with a smile.

 Chapter 48 - 48 End of Times

    Several eyewitnesses had seen the forest burning and heard the commotion after Michael''s group left. Michael''s capture of the spy had only bolstered his reputation.


    "Yes, I was tending to the beasts at the time, so I wasn''t in the thick of it. But Sir Michael truly did an excellent job," Baron Kensington added, his tone full of praise.


    Michael felt the growing admiration in the gazes of Count Charles and Baron Kensington. The way they looked at him was almost unnerving, as if they were ready to marry him off immediately to secure an alliance.


    In a society where political marriages solidified alliances, such a possibility was far from unlikely.


    Michael quietly moved closer to his father.


    "Father, please don''t let them pressure you. I''d prefer to find a match once my position is more stable," Michael whispered.


    Baron Crassus gave his son a startled look.


    "What nonsense are you talking about? A baron''s daughter? Ridiculous. As for Count Charles, all his legitimate daughters are already married. The only one left is an illegitimate child posing as a proper daughter. Your marriage will be decided with care, balancing the needs of our territory and your personal gains. Besides, your grandfather is... well, never mind. Don''t worry about it."


    Relieved, Michael nodded. He was still young, and his rank wasn''t insignificant. There was time yet.


    Miaomiao, still puzzling over the riddle, remained unusually quiet. Michael chuckled, patting her head affectionately.


    Since learning that Miaomiao''s true form was a Sphinx and that she had been sent by his grandfather, carrying her on his shoulder had become second nature. She was a dependable guardian.


    After regrouping with his soldiers and his father''s men, Michael resumed training them. This time, he focused on gathering those who had experience with bows.


    Following Johann''s advice, Michael structured the drills with precision, leading to noticeable improvements in efficiency. The abundance of skilled hunters in Crassus territory, where forest hunting was permitted, further bolstered their efforts.


    The archers among Michael''s soldiers were not particularly skilled individually, but rotating their shots in volleys improved their effectiveness. Meanwhile, those with no prior experience in archery practiced advancing in formation and thrusting with spears in unison.


    Michael also had the soldiers form tightly packed defensive squares, shields up, practicing synchronized counterattacks with their spears. The square formation revolved around the wagons, making it a mobile, defensive stronghold.


    By incorporating military drills learned back in the territory, each soldier became more adept at holding their position without disrupting the overall formation. With repetition, the unit began moving as one, visibly gaining confidence.


    Julian, Michael''s squire, meticulously recorded these drills. One day, these techniques would become part of the Crassus family''s military doctrine.


    Julian''s father had essentially pledged his loyalty to the Crassus family when he entrusted his son to Michael''s care. Adding another knight to the family''s retinue was a worthwhile exchange.


    "Michael, come here," Baron Crassus called. "Baron Kensington wants to have a quiet word with us."


    Curious, Michael followed his father to a secluded spot where Kensington awaited them with a mischievous grin.


    "Ah, Michael, my friend! I''ve come upon a fantastic opportunity," Kensington began. "While scouting the area last night, I discovered a mandrake grove near the northern edge of the mountains. It''s about three hours away by griffon flight. It''s not enough for an entire company, but it''s perfect for two families to share. I resisted the urge to harvest it myself and saved it for us. What do you think?"


    Hah. He couldn''t do it alone, so he''s bringing us in, Michael thought, suppressing a smirk.


    Harvesting mandrakes was no small task. It required at least four knights: one to hold the leaves, another to dig, a third to subdue the mandrake the moment it emerged, and a fourth to stand guard. Even with ear protection, the mandrake''s scream was dangerous, so only aura-awakened knights could participate.


    A healer was also essential for emergencies.


    Despite the risks, it was an enticing offer. A single mandrake could fetch 300 gold.


    Thus, the mandrake expedition was formed: Michael, his father, Julian''s father Lancaster, Kensington, and the healer Hoff. They slipped out of camp quietly, leaving Julian and Sir Ronald, a strong but not-so-bright knight, to maintain order.


    Meanwhile, Xenon and the Holy Knights trudged back toward the Crowley Barony in defeat. Without the relic to track the Outer God''s presence, they were at a loss.


    This failure was catastrophic, even with Xenon''s connections to the pope. A knight of his rank failing to counteract magical interference was inexcusable. Should the truth spread, reformists within the Vatican would gain the upper hand. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Within the Lania Kingdom, the implications were even graver. The Holy Nation had orchestrated this entire charade to curb the kingdom''s growing independence from their influence. The Church had long since lost its authority in the kingdom, its tithes dwindling year by year.


    Xenon sighed. He longed for the days when the Holy Nation''s power was absolute¡ªwhen they could make kings kneel and burn dissenting nobles at the stake.


    Once, heresies were mere sparks fanned into flames from the shadows. Now, the Church had to ignite those flames themselves.


    But without heresy, how could the Church demonstrate its glory? Everything, he told himself, was for the light.


    As he lamented, an outrider galloped back with news.


    "Commander! Sir Gabriel has spotted a suspicious figure leading a horde of undead!"


    Xenon''s eyes lit up. Could it be?


    "Did he wear a black hood?"


    "Yes, Commander. And he appears to be fleeing with a hostage¡ªa frail woman over his shoulder."


    Relief surged through Xenon. The necromancer and the relic were within reach again. Gathering his knights, he prepared to strike.


    Meanwhile, the mandrake expedition was having less luck.


    "I could swear it was around here," Kensington muttered for the fifth time, his voice increasingly defensive under their withering stares.


    "Baron Kensington," Lancaster said coldly. "When you found the grove, did it not occur to you to mark its location?"

 Chapter 49 - 49 The Worlds Gone Mad

    "Well... I was returning from a raid at the time, so I only noted the general area. I couldn''t risk getting too close," Kensington admitted sheepishly.


    "So you''ve never actually seen the mandrakes?" Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "No, no, I have! My griffon confirmed it. Its sense of smell is impeccable!"


    The griffon, as if to back up Kensington''s claim, nodded its head. Trusting the beast''s sharp senses, the group began searching the ground more carefully.


    After a long while, they heard the clash of weapons in the distance.


    "What''s that?"


    Unable to suppress their curiosity, they cautiously approached the noise.


    There, in the distance, they saw a knight locked in combat with a horde of undead.


    "Foul necromancer! Unhand her at once!" the knight roared.


    Alfred was dumbfounded. A Holy Knight trying to rescue a necromancer?


    The world''s gone mad. Simply mad.


    That morning, in the office of Crowley''s southern fortress, Orpheus, a sub-priest of the fanatics and a priest of the Church of Radiance, was enjoying a hearty breakfast, entirely unaware that the holy relics had been stolen by the knights.


    As he scooped cream-laden tea into his mouth, the rich aroma wafted up to his nose, a sensation he relished. Indeed, this was the privilege of the high-ranking elite. The Necromancer Priest would be handled by Xenon, and all he needed to do now was await the arrival of the punitive force.


    "By now, there should be some results. Perhaps today would be a good day to visit the priest''s hideout," Orpheus mused. The thought of the countless artifacts and magical items stored there brought a smile to his face. Since the knight commander knew nothing of this, Orpheus planned to claim it all for himself.


    Finishing his tea, Orpheus reflected, It''s unfortunate I have to handle this matter personally. But great rewards often require great effort.


    After his meal, he stood and gazed out the window. If he used the wealth he would acquire from the Necromancer''s hideout well, his position within the papacy would only grow stronger.


    Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Orpheus clasped his hands behind his back and planned his day. Soon, he headed to Leonardo''s room. The activation word for the teleportation magic circle was already known to him, making the task straightforward. Without that knowledge, he wouldn''t have dared venture there alone.


    "It''s such a shame," Orpheus muttered under his breath as he shook his head. "A talent like his, wasted this way."


    Leonardo was a genius who had designed a teleportation circle that only required inserting a magic stone and reciting the activation word.


    "How could he have fallen for such heresy?" Orpheus clicked his tongue, lamenting the situation. Though he recognized the utility of such heretics, their dangers far outweighed their benefits. His decision, though harsh, was necessary.


    When he reached Leonardo''s room, Orpheus retrieved a key and unlocked the door. He had been wise to prepare a spare key in advance. The room was silent, its contents untouched, bearing traces of Leonardo''s presence.


    Orpheus glanced at the floor, where the teleportation circle was drawn, and a smile crept onto his face. After I gather everything, I''ll have the house demolished, he resolved.


    With that thought in mind, he placed a magic stone at the center of the circle. Reciting the activation word, he watched as the circle began to glow. For a moment, he stared at the light before stepping into the magic circle without hesitation.


    Instantly, his surroundings distorted, and he felt as though his body and soul were being sucked into an unknown space. When the magic concluded, he found himself standing before the Necromancer Priest''s hideout. He had succeeded.


    Orpheus began sweeping the artifacts stored in the underground chamber into the spatial pocket he had brought with him. While collecting, he paused upon noticing a large box tucked away in a corner.


    The box resembled a cage, draped in a black cloth.


    "What on earth is this¡­?" he murmured, curiosity piqued. He approached the box and lifted the cloth.


    The moment he saw its contents, Orpheus screamed in horror.


    "Leonardo, you lunatic! What were you thinking, keeping something like this here? Do you want us all to die?!"


    Meanwhile


    Once a bandit leader, Nicholas now served as an elder priest of the heretical cult. He had become utterly consumed by its mysterious powers. The sensation he had first experienced upon encountering the cult¡ªthe euphoria of the blood quill''s touch on his body¡ªwas an ecstasy greater than anything he had known.


    As his addiction deepened over time, Nicholas began delving into forbidden dark arts.


    "All of this will be perfected through the holiness of the Goddess," he declared, laughter bubbling from his lips.


    Before him lay a scene of depravity¡ªnaked men and women entwined, a chaotic mass of bodies. They were his former bandit subordinates, now priests, and women taken captive from within the castle.


    The women wailed and cursed their captors, mourning families murdered and their lives ruined. But the priests were unbothered. On the contrary, the more the women screamed, the more delight the priests seemed to derive from their suffering.


    Under the neglect of the sub-priest Orpheus and the disappearance of the high priest, these atrocities had escalated. The cultists believed such acts were offerings to their god, though in reality, they merely catered to Nicholas''s perverse desires.


    Yet there was a purpose, however twisted it might be. The rituals were a rehearsal to amuse the Goddess before the "sacrifice" hidden in the high priest''s hideout was brought here.


    Unlike the high priest, who worshipped a fragment of the Outsider, Nicholas believed he served the true deity.


    As he reveled in his twisted conviction, the voice of the Goddess emanated from the blood quill, sticky and saccharine as if soaked in blood.


    [Nicholas, my faithful servant. Everything will soon be complete. When the time comes, I will grant you the promised power. Until then, continue to please me. Do you understand?]


    Prostrating himself on the ground, Nicholas offered his devotion.


    "Do not worry, O Goddess of Blood. The monster is already trapped within our grasp. Your loyal servants are retrieving it via the magic circle and will have it here by tonight."


    [Why is it taking so long?]

 Chapter 50 - 50 The Defeated Holy Knights

    "My deepest apologies. Transporting the beast to the circle is fraught with instability¡­ But we''ve ensured no local supplies were requisitioned. There will surely be carts and horses available. At the latest, we will perform the ritual by dawn tomorrow. Please wait a little longer¡­"


    [Ah, my beloved Nicholas. How could I not wait for you? But beware¡ªI am a fickle goddess. You must not delay too long.]


    Nicholas gazed at the blood quill with dazed eyes. The artifact floated in the air, exuding a sinister red glow. Behind it, the fleeting figure of a beautiful woman would occasionally appear and vanish.


    "Yes, O Goddess of Blood¡­ Your humble servant Nicholas begs for your grace," he murmured, his trembling voice brimming with longing.


    The dimly lit ballroom where they resided, shrouded in thick darkness, resonated with the Goddess''s eerie laughter¡ªa sound like countless ghosts laughing in unison.


    As he awaited the Goddess''s blessing, Nicholas grasped the blood quill with trembling hands.


    [Nicholas, my loyal servant,] the Goddess''s voice resounded from within the quill.


    [I know of your devotion. Now, offer me your blood and bring me joy. My joy shall become yours.]


    Shaking, Nicholas lifted the quill, already soaked in blood, and plunged it into his body. As his blood flowed into the artifact, its red glow intensified, and it floated higher into the air.


    The ballroom''s atmosphere grew heavier and more oppressive.


    "Receive my blood, O Goddess, and grant me your power," Nicholas prayed, his voice unwavering even in the throes of agony.


    Simultaneously, the priests engaged in their debauchery began stabbing and slashing the women in their grasp.


    The women screamed and resisted until their last moments, but their efforts were futile. Amid the chaos of cries and splattered blood, the blood quill greedily absorbed every drop of blood that approached it. The scene was nothing short of a vision of hell.


    Orpheus, who had been despairing at the sight of the cage and its horrifying contents, suddenly noticed the teleportation circle glowing. Someone was coming.


    Should he hide? There was nowhere to conceal himself. In the end, he chose to stand before the cage, adopting a solemn stance. After all, the only people who could arrive here were either the Priest Leonardo or Elder Priest Nicholas. With either of them, he figured he could talk his way out of trouble.


    Moments later, the figures who emerged from the teleportation circle were priests loyal to Nicholas and servants of the Outsider. Orpheus sighed in relief. If it had been Leonardo, it would have meant that something had gone terribly wrong with the holy knights'' plans.


    The priests seemed startled to see Orpheus.


    "Oh! Sub-Priest! What brings you here? Did you come early after hearing about Elder Priest Nicholas''s orders?"


    Thankfully, the foolish priests gave him an opening. Orpheus quickly composed himself, determined not to let his real intentions slip. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "That''s correct. Ahem. I''ve heard the basics, but what do you plan to do next?"


    "Of course, we''ll transport it and offer it in tomorrow''s ritual. Surely you understand, Sub-Priest."


    Though this was news to him, Orpheus nodded, feigning agreement. He suspected that Nicholas and Leonardo had orchestrated this madness together. It was a plausible assumption, given the fanatics'' obsession with the Outsider.


    Orpheus deliberated. If this "sacrifice" was successfully offered, it would spell disaster. Somehow, he had to stop these lunatics. For now, there was no better option than to follow them and look for an opportunity.


    The priests soon procured a few emaciated horses and a cart from the village. Loading the cage onto the cart, they set off at a brisk pace, with Orpheus trailing behind. As they traveled, he silently prayed, hoping that Xenon and the holy knights might be nearby.


    Perhaps the Radiance answered his prayer. Midway through their journey, Orpheus sensed the presence of holy knights within a one-kilometer radius. He stopped briefly, scanning the surroundings, while the heretical priests remained preoccupied with their path ahead.


    He needed to contact the knights immediately. They could deal with these cultists and the horrifying cage.


    Looking for an opening, Orpheus positioned himself at the back of the cart, seated away from the priests. He quietly slipped off the cart and crouched low, moving stealthily toward the direction of the holy knights. His heart pounded furiously in his chest.


    Once he was a safe distance away, he broke into a sprint.


    The Mandragora Expedition was in shock. Holy knights were flying¡ªliterally flying¡ªthrough the air.


    At the center of the commotion stood a towering man cloaked in black robes. Each time he lashed out with shadowy whips that resembled vines, knights were sent soaring into the air as if gravity had abandoned them.


    The man didn''t move from his spot, effortlessly parrying and countering the knights'' attacks with a calm elegance that resembled a choreographed dance. The Mandragora Expedition couldn''t tear their eyes away from the surreal battle.


    Although the knights numbered close to fifty, their attempts to attack en masse were thwarted by the undead surrounding the robed man. It was clear that the location had been chosen with meticulous intent¡ªit severely limited the number of knights who could attack at once.


    Strangely, it seemed as though the man wasn''t being protected by the undead; rather, he was the one protecting them.


    The shadowy whips split into multiple tendrils, moving like living creatures as they hurled knights away from the undead. When one knight tried to approach from the side, the man ensnared him with the whips, lifting him from the ground. The knight screamed in agony before being flung into the air.


    Another knight attempted to sneak up from behind, but the man reacted instantly, spinning around and striking the knight''s chest with his bare hand. Despite the mismatch of flesh against armor, the knight was sent flying backward, his weapon slipping from his grasp.


    The robed man was unquestionably in control of the battle. He toyed with the knights, dismantling their formations one by one while the shadowy whips encircled them like a living nightmare.


    In the end, every knight fell.

 Chapter 51 - 51 Interrogation

    As if nothing had happened, the robed man turned to one of the undead and took a fragile figure into his arms. Then, his gaze shifted to the Mandragora Expedition.


    It was him¡ªthe grandfather.


    Michael stepped forward with an awkward smile, but before he could speak, a shadowy whip lashed out like lightning, narrowly missing his head and extending far behind him.


    Moments later, the whip returned, dragging with it a man clad in priestly robes.


    Startled, Michael hurried to the old man''s side. Alfred, standing over the priest with one foot planted on his chest, spoke with a cold expression.


    "What are you doing here? You should be with your unit."


    "Well, I was hoping to earn a little extra on the side," Michael replied sheepishly.


    "No matter. I was looking for you anyway. You can come back with us."


    "Who is this person you''ve captured?" Michael asked.


    "He was running toward us suspiciously, so I grabbed him."


    Alfred glanced down at the priest, who groaned in pain beneath his foot. Pressing down harder, Alfred prompted a strangled wheeze from the man. sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "This is no time for this! Call Sir Xenon immediately! Ugh, they''re planning something catastrophic!" the man croaked.


    Alfred applied more pressure.


    "That''s not the tone of someone asking for a favor," he said coolly.


    "P-please¡­ I beg you! I¡­"


    The priest, Orpheus, hesitated, unsure of how to introduce himself. Should he claim to be a priest of the Outsider? Or one of Radiance?


    While he wavered, Alfred''s foot pressed down even harder.


    "Argh! Stop! Please stop! This is no time for this!"


    Though he had ignored the suffering of Crowley''s people, Orpheus couldn''t endure his own pain. Alfred''s indifferent gaze bore into him.


    "Judging by your appearance, you''re a dog of Radiance. What are you doing here, hiding under the guise of the Outsider?"


    Orpheus''s face turned pale. How does he know? Wait¡­ that robe''s emblem¡­


    Before he could complete his thought, Michael grabbed Alfred''s wrist.


    "Wait a moment, Grandfather," he said.


    Orpheus was about to feel relief¡ªfinally, a voice of reason¡ªbut Michael''s next words wiped away that hope.


    "Let me handle the interrogation. There''s something I''ve been wanting to try," Michael said with a mischievous grin.


    Alfred''s lips curled into a proud smile as he looked at his ever-resourceful grandson.


    "Well done, my boy," he said.


    In the end, torture wasn''t necessary. Every one of them, be it this man or that, was so cowardly that they confessed before a single finger could be broken.


    "So, you''re saying that the blood quill''s seal was broken, and it was handed over to that Necromancer named Leonardo by the papacy itself?" Michael asked, lifting a stick threateningly.


    Orpheus, who had been watching for any sign of danger like a nervous rat, spoke up immediately as he saw Michael holding the stick. He couldn''t bear the thought of his fingers being caught between that stick again.


    "Yes, that''s correct. I was only following orders from above. Everything came from the brains of the papacy''s upper echelons. All they care about is donations and expanding their influence," Orpheus confessed hastily, hoping to lessen his guilt.


    But his attempt to shift blame crumbled quickly.


    "Shut your mouth, you scoundrel! How dare you insult His Holiness the Pope? Wasn''t it your proposal to begin with?" Xenon, who was tied up beside him, managed to lift his bound legs and kick Orpheus, sending both of them sprawling to the ground.


    "Enough! If I catch you lying one more time, I won''t let you off so easily," Michael warned. "Every word will be cross-verified by the fifty-two others here, so stick to the truth."


    Orpheus, realizing there was no hope of escaping this predicament, tried another angle.


    "Uh¡­ but, my lord, we should capture those heading toward Crowley''s estate first. They''re planning something truly catastrophic¡ª"


    "There''s no need to worry about that," Michael interrupted. "Grandfather and the other knights are already on their way to intercept them. All you need to do is tell the truth."


    Orpheus''s heart sank. He had been hoping for a chance to escape amid the chaos of a skirmish. But if "Grandfather" referred to the man he thought it did, there was no hope left.


    He gave up quickly. With so many potential victims around, resistance was futile. Loyalty to the papacy? Faith? None of that mattered in the face of physical pain. Orpheus had never been particularly devout; he became a clergyman only because his father was a high-ranking priest in the papacy.


    "I''ll answer everything truthfully¡ªjust please, no torture," he pleaded. "The Knight Commander knows nothing. He''s an ignorant brute who can barely wield a sword properly."


    His craven nature shone through as he immediately betrayed others to save himself. Xenon, tied beside him, fumed and spat in frustration, but Orpheus paid no mind.


    "You''re quick to adapt. Good. Now, who currently possesses the blood quill?" Michael asked.


    "The blood quill is with Elder Priest Nicholas. He uses it to paint symbols on the faces and bodies of the priests and to communicate with the Outsider embedded in the quill," Orpheus explained.


    "So, you''re saying that all of you are acting independently, united only by a shared goal?" Michael probed further.


    "Yes, that''s correct. When the papacy first devised this plan, they sought individuals with an affinity for the Outsider. Among the candidates, Leonardo seemed the easiest to manipulate and the simplest to understand."


    "He had already been in contact with an Outsider, and once we realized the ability granted by that Outsider was persuasion, the plan took off. We approached him, encouraged the formation of a new religion, and used the excuse of reforming bandits to contact Nicholas."


    "Nicholas was a criminal we often hired for dirty work and led a gang of bandits, who were subsequently turned into priests of the Outsider."


    "But we never expected Nicholas to become so consumed by the blood quill''s pleasures. Now, he''s lost himself to its allure and plans to sacrifice the¡­ entity in our possession. I know I''m not in a position to say this, but that madness must be stopped. Please, show mercy."


    "Ha! You''re not doing this out of concern for others. You''re just worried you''ll get caught up in the aftermath," Michael retorted sharply.

 Chapter 52 - 52 A Young Dragon

    Orpheus clammed up, realizing he had been seen through. Surely, they would spare him for his honesty, wouldn''t they? He glanced nervously around. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "It''s said that the blood quill requires blood sacrifices to function. What did you do to procure those sacrifices?" Michael''s voice was cold.


    Orpheus''s eyes darted nervously. If he confessed the truth¡­


    "Don''t even think about lying. The truth will come out during cross-verification," Michael warned.


    Backed into a corner, Orpheus took a deep breath and began recounting his crimes.


    "I¡­ First, with Nicholas and the knight commander, Xenon, we targeted a few slash-and-burn farming villages. And then¡­" Orpheus faltered, unable to continue.


    A swift punishment followed. Slaps landed across his face until he broke down in tears, spilling the rest.


    "Enough! Please, stop! I''ll confess everything. First, we selected young children and¡­ cut open their stomachs to extract their hearts. We made their parents watch, ensuring their hatred and resentment peaked before we decapitated them and offered their blood to the quill. Without blood steeped in such intense hatred, the Outsider sealed for centuries could not awaken¡­"


    Michael clenched his fists, struggling to suppress his rising anger. It was hard enough knowing the plight of serfs, but what these innocents had endured was beyond comprehension. His heart burned with the desire to strike Orpheus down, but he restrained himself. Not yet.


    "Was this why the blood quill was kept instead of being destroyed? To use it in situations like this? Is that also why kingdoms and nobles who defied the papacy fell into ruin?" Michael pressed.


    Orpheus didn''t answer, trembling and sweating as he lay prone.


    "Such a noble god and clergy," Michael muttered bitterly. "After committing atrocities like this, how can you speak of divinity?"


    He shook his head. The gods he knew, however harsh, only granted power for rightful vengeance. But Radiance? Michael pushed the thought aside. This was no time to invoke divine scrutiny.


    For now, he needed written confessions from Orpheus and the knight commander. These would be sealed and sent to the royal palace. Such matters were beyond even Count Charles''s ability to handle alone.


    "Is there no way to restore those turned into the Outsider''s followers by the blood quill?" Michael asked. At the very least, he hoped to bring peace to the survivors.


    Orpheus, still lying face down, shook his head.


    "No¡­ It''s impossible. Once someone has been stimulated by it, they are bound to follow its orders until their life force is extinguished."


    "Truly useless," Michael spat. "You''re good for nothing. Perhaps I''ll have your skin turned into a drum¡ªat least that would be of some use."


    "Please, spare my life¡­" Orpheus begged.


    Ignoring him, Michael approached Xenon, who was playing dead on the ground. A single kick forced him upright, and the cross-verification began.


    Fifty people were questioned, but all were guilty. Compared to them, even Leonardo, the dreaded Necromancer, seemed like a saint. At least Leonardo bore no direct responsibility for the atrocities committed in the farming villages or the baron''s lands.


    The more Michael listened, the more his fury grew. These so-called clergy and knights had done nothing but kill innocents, torment them, and offer them as sacrifices to the Outsider.


    Could this be allowed?


    As the interrogation drew to a close, Alfred and his group arrived. True to Orpheus''s words, they had brought the cart carrying the cage. The priests of the Outsider, former bandits, were nowhere to be seen, likely slain to prevent further harm.


    Alfred approached the cage and pulled away the cloth covering it. A stunned silence followed.


    Inside was a small dragon, its wings pierced by iron rods. Its body was battered and bloody, slumped unconscious in the cage.


    "What is this¡­?" Michael muttered, recoiling instinctively from the grotesque sight. The young dragon''s condition was horrific.


    "It''s so small¡­ It must be a hatchling, just as that priest claimed. How could anyone do this? Do they not fear the wrath of the dragons for harming a hatchling?" Alfred asked.


    [Nyah¡­ This isn''t a hatchling¡­] purred Miaomiao, the spirit beast accompanying Michael.


    [A young dragon, yes, but not a hatchling. Still, this is¡­] Miaomiao hesitated, his voice trailing off.


    Alfred finished his sentence.


    "This is a disgrace among the dragons themselves."


    [It may look young, but it''s definitely not a hatchling,] Miaomiao explained. [Hatchlings are bigger than this. Only fully grown divine beasts can alter their forms, and a hatchling would never be left unguarded by both parents. It''s clear this is a young dragon with incomplete inheritance.]


    "Well, that''s a relief. If that priest was right, and a horde of dragons was about to descend, it would''ve been a catastrophe," Michael said. "But you keep mentioning ''inheritance.'' What is that, exactly?"


    Miaomiao snorted in apparent irritation before replying.


    [For divine beasts like me¡ªor what you humans call first-grade magical beasts¡ªinheritance is passed down during conception. It''s part of our bloodline. Dragons, however, are foolish. Sometimes their inheritance isn''t properly transferred, and when that happens, the unlucky dragon is abandoned by the group as soon as it reaches adulthood. This one''s parents must have failed to pass down its legacy while it was still in its egg. Foolish and lazy creatures, dragons are little more than beasts.]


    "So, this captured dragon is¡­ a bit lacking, is that what you''re saying?" Michael asked.


    Miaomiao chuckled dryly.


    [Of course. A fully capable first-grade magical beast would never be captured like this. Even if a magical beast contract is possible with first-grade creatures, just look at this state. Dragons are notoriously greedy. It probably fell for some human''s trick or scheme, which led to this pitiful condition. Anyway, let''s keep it asleep. It''d be a disaster if it woke up and started causing trouble.]


    "What about its wings? They''re in such bad shape. Won''t that cause problems later?"


    [Hmph, it''ll be fine. Even a dull-witted dragon''s body should heal without issue.]


    Miaomiao''s tone carried an undercurrent of disdain for dragons.


    The group decided to transport the caged dragon, along with the captured priests and knights, to Leonardo''s secret chamber. To do so, they would need to unlock the chamber''s seal.

 Chapter 53 - 53 Battle Aftermath

    While Orpheus and the priests knew how to exit the chamber, entering it was a different matter. Knowing the traps that guarded the entrance, Miaomiao slapped Leonardo awake.


    Leonardo woke with a start, panicked and frantic, until Alfred raised his fist. The threat of another strike silenced him immediately.


    Despite the commotion, the dragon remained unconscious. Its deep slumber persisted undisturbed.


    Baron Kensington piloted a griffon to shuttle back and forth between the group and Leonardo''s hideout multiple times before they finally set off.


    By then, the evening sky was painted in the fiery hues of sunset. It was time to return to camp.


    The Mandragora Expedition had long been forgotten, overshadowed by the events of the day. The sheer magnitude of what had occurred left everyone reeling.


    When they arrived, the camp was already set up. By morning, they would reach Crowley''s castle.


    "First Archery Squad, form up! Fire!"


    The battle had begun.


    With no way to save the fanatics, the only option was to grant them eternal rest.


    The last remaining leader within the castle, Nicholas, was overwhelmed. The dragon he intended to offer as a sacrifice hadn''t arrived, and the Goddess had yet to fully awaken.


    In this state, without any military training or even basic literacy, Nicholas was utterly incapable of mounting a proper defense.


    The soldiers from Baron Crassus''s domain, on the other hand, fought brilliantly. Unlike the disorganized foot soldiers from other regions, these troops moved in perfect harmony, dominating the battlefield with precision.


    Shield bearers formed the front line, fending off enemy attacks while archers behind them unleashed volleys of arrows. When enemies approached, spearmen coordinated flawlessly to repel their advance.


    Their seamless cooperation was like a single, massive organism moving with purpose.


    Michael, commanding the soldiers, targeted the priests exclusively.


    "Shout louder, everyone! The Goddess will surely¡ª"


    The priest leading the charge didn''t finish his sentence. Michael''s arrow pierced his throat, ending his life.


    Every time a notable figure emerged, another arrow silenced them. Before long, no priests dared to raise their voices.


    With the priests no longer controlling them, the fanatics grew weaker. Most importantly, time was their greatest ally. The frenzy of the fanatics would wane after six hours.


    Michael continued to pick off priests, buying as much time as possible. When the first signs of the fanatics aging prematurely began to show, he ordered the soldiers to advance.


    The soldiers, exhausted but resolute, cut down the faltering fanatics with grim efficiency, harvesting their lives like wheat in a field.


    Count Charles and his knights didn''t remain idle. Charging on horseback, they tore through the battlefield with relentless determination. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After slaying the last priest in sight, Michael surveyed the battlefield. The fanatics lay scattered on the ground, lifeless. Their expressions, however, seemed almost peaceful, as if finally finding rest.


    Michael clasped his hands together and offered a prayer for the departed, tracing a sign of the cross over his chest.


    He prayed that these poor souls would find peace and that their deaths would not go unavenged.


    Nicholas, watching his forces crumble one by one, realized it was over. Clutching the blood quill tightly, he fled to Leonardo''s room inside the castle.


    He needed to use the teleportation circle immediately.


    With frantic hands, he placed the magic stone into the center of the circle. But nothing happened.


    Panic set in, and as he turned around, he found himself face-to-face with a young knight with a sturdy frame and a calm yet piercing gaze.


    "Where do you think you''re going? Don''t you think it''s time to face justice?" Michael said.


    [Activation conditions met. Absorbing mana. Mana absorption complete. Usage conditions not fulfilled. Shutting down functionality.]


    After subduing Nicholas, Michael reached out and touched the blood quill. A warm sensation coursed through him as distant, ethereal screams echoed in his mind.


    Moments later, Michael withdrew his hand. The quill crumbled into dust, scattering into the air. Destroying it was the right thing to do.


    Dragging the unconscious Nicholas to the ballroom, Michael confronted the horrors Orpheus had hinted at. Nicholas, after losing several teeth during interrogation, had reluctantly revealed the location of the women he had taken.


    The ballroom was drenched in blood.


    The lifeless bodies of women, from girls no older than ten to middle-aged mothers, lay strewn across the floor. Some were old corpses, others freshly dead, but all were mutilated beyond recognition.


    Michael stood frozen, unable to speak. After witnessing the horrors on the battlefield, this atrocity left him utterly shattered.


    How could anyone commit such acts?


    As Michael sank into silent despair, Miaomiao approached cautiously.


    [Michael, I''ve solved the riddle. It''s humans. Humans did this,] the spirit beast said softly.


    Michael reached out and gently stroked Miaomiao''s head. The small creature rubbed its head against his hand, offering comfort.


    "Yes¡­ humans," Michael whispered. "Humans did this. And humans will clean up this mess. Thank you, Miaomiao. You''ve helped me see things clearly."


    For the first time since coming into this world, Michael felt a sense of purpose.


    To achieve his goal of changing the world, Michael first needed to deal with the immediate situation. That meant informing others about Orpheus, the captured priest of the Church of Radiance.


    "This is not something we can resolve on our own. We should wash our hands of it and inform Count Charles and the Court Marquis immediately," Baron Crassus urged.


    "I agree. Keeping them imprisoned with some misguided sense of justice won''t gain us anything. It''s better to report this to the court and claim the rewards," Baron Kensington added.


    Both barons insisted that withdrawing from the matter was the wisest course of action. Alfred and Hope remained silent, while Lord Lancaster declared he would follow the consensus. Michael also knew he had no other options.


    As long as the Church of Radiance was involved, there was no way forward on his own.


    As for the dragon, it was decided that Miaomiao, the sphinx, would handle it. Being a fellow first-grade magical beast, she argued that there was no one more suitable than herself. Her reasoning left everyone speechless¡ªor perhaps it was fear of her strength that silenced any objections.

 Chapter 54 - 54 Divide The Spoils

    Baron Kensington, meanwhile, couldn''t hide his awe. He was practically drooling at the chance to see and converse with a noble, ancient divine beast. For a magical beast enthusiast like him, it was overwhelming.


    When Count Charles received their message, he was deeply shocked. While everyone had suspected some kind of conspiracy, no one had expected to secure such definitive evidence. This was truly an enormous development.


    Court Marquis Woodrock, his expression heavy, immediately dispatched a message to the royal palace. The wyvern confiscated from the holy knights soared toward the court, carrying the urgent report.


    With that, the matter was no longer in their hands. Whatever decision the court made, they had no choice but to follow. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael sighed, acutely aware of his own weakness. In his current state, there was little he could do. He needed to grow stronger¡ªand to do that, he would have to maximize the benefits from this campaign.


    Strength came with power, and power required money to function.


    The coalition of minor nobles, which had briefly united during the "recapture" of the villages, disbanded like a castle of sand. The spoils of their campaign were being divided, and disputes arose over the allocation of resources.


    Baron Kensington was particularly troubled as he reviewed the contribution lists. While loot obtained through plundering was claimed individually and avoided disputes, dividing 50% of the total wealth of Crowley''s barony proved far more contentious.


    The value of the barony''s lands and tangible assets was immense, and every noble present was eager to claim their share. Even before contributions had been fully calculated, they began arguing over who had done the most.


    If not for Baron Kensington''s efforts to mediate, there would already have been half a dozen duels.


    The northern nobles were poor and each had their own calculations. If the wealth of Crowley''s barony were liquidated, it would exceed one million gold. Half of that¡ªfive hundred thousand gold¡ªwas to be divided among the coalition, a sum greater than the fifty-year net income of most estates.


    The staggering amount put everyone on edge. Alliances dissolved in the face of greed, and the camp erupted in shouting matches, finger-pointing, and even three duels.


    Ultimately, Baron Crassus secured 10% of the total wealth for his domain¡ªa recognition of Michael''s contributions. While other families grumbled, they could do little else.


    Michael and Baron Crassus opted to forgo land claims in favor of receiving their share entirely in gold. As a result, they gained a staggering fifty thousand gold.


    Excluding plundered loot, fifty thousand gold was their reward¡ªproving once again that war was a path to wealth.


    However, it was now time to return the serf-soldiers borrowed from other domains. While it felt like throwing away hard-earned gains, it was unavoidable.


    He had trained these men, only to have to return them. The thought was deeply frustrating.


    Though he could secretly keep the stragglers who had been left behind, the serf-soldiers distributed by Count Charles had to be returned.


    Using a bit of subterfuge, Michael identified soldiers who didn''t wish to return to their original lands. He officially marked them as deceased, bringing around one hundred additional serfs to the Crassus domain.


    These serfs expressed a desire to bring their families over if given the chance. With the heads of their households gone, their families were likely to become impoverished slash-and-burn farmers anyway, so relocating them wouldn''t be difficult.


    Sigh¡­ All I''ve gained is fifty thousand gold, some grain, and one hundred serfs, Michael thought, realizing the limits of his current position.


    He was eager to return to his domain and make the most of his new resources.


    While the wealth of Crowley''s barony was being carved up and distributed, a formal complaint from the Kingdom of Lania arrived at the Papacy of the Church of Radiance.


    "Look at this!" Pope Allegro III exclaimed, hurling the letter of complaint at Bishop Orion, father of Orpheus. "Your son caused this disaster! Thanks to his schemes, we''ve gained nothing but a pile of complaints!"


    Orion, outraged by the Pope''s attempt to shift blame, retorted heatedly.


    "How is this solely my son''s fault? What about Xenon, the knight commander? What was he doing there?"


    The two engaged in a bitter argument, their accusations cutting into one another like self-inflicted wounds.


    Eventually, realizing the futility of their squabble, they coughed awkwardly and tried to calm themselves.


    "This is not the time for this. We need a plan," Orion muttered.


    "I agree. We must not acknowledge this publicly," Allegro III said.


    The struggle between royal and divine authority was nothing new, and countless schemes had played out behind the scenes over the years. But rarely had something so scandalous come to light.


    "This must be framed as an isolated incident of personal misconduct. Harsh as it may seem, we have no choice."


    While they couldn''t deny the reappearance of the blood quill, they could limit the papacy''s accountability to acknowledging its theft as an individual act of defiance.


    Rumors that the papacy had sought to increase donations or secretly supported fanatics had to remain unproven speculation.


    "Rest assured, Your Holiness. I will handle the aftermath," Vito, the captain of the First Order of Holy Knights and the Pope''s right-hand man, declared confidently.


    As Vito strategized, Pope Allegro clicked his tongue, calculating how to cover the financial losses. For nearly two centuries, rebellious kingdoms had drained the papacy''s resources. Now, this scandal added further strain.


    Is the divine abandoning me? he wondered bitterly. Why had this disaster occurred during his papacy?


    The papal secretaries were already drafting a response:


    The theft of the blood quill was a personal act of defiance. However, the papacy acknowledges its moral responsibility and will provide reparations. All damaged temples in the Kingdom of Lania will be rebuilt, and royal and noble tithes within the kingdom will be waived for three years.


    The letter, though lengthy and filled with legal jargon, carried a clear subtext:


    Take this as compensation and return our people to us. Push further, and we won''t hold back either.


    Diplomacy, after all, was a game of sparring without striking the face.


    After dismissing Bishop Orion and Commander Vito, Pope Allegro III sat in the sacred seat, lost in thought. How could the financial losses from this incident be covered?

 Chapter 55 - 55 Contract

    No matter how much he pondered, only one option came to mind: utilizing the darker paths of commerce.


    He gestured to Cardinal Jacobo, his loyal left hand, who stood waiting behind him.


    "To make up for these losses, there''s no other way. Increase the supply of magical elixirs, juvenile magical beasts, and relics of the Outsider on the black market. About five times the usual volume should suffice," the Pope instructed.


    Jacobo bowed respectfully and left the audience chamber to carry out the order.


    Left alone, Pope Allegro III let out a heavy sigh.


    "What is becoming of this world¡­ Radiance, grant us your light."


    Though the papacy had hoarded vast wealth over the generations, the idea of tapping into those resources didn''t occur to anyone.


    King Charles V of the Kingdom of Lania was thoroughly satisfied with the papacy''s official letter.


    A tax exemption? Such a boon was well worth handing over Crowley''s barony. After all, the commoners sacrificed in this ordeal were mere numbers on paper.


    Whether a thousand or ten thousand had died, it didn''t matter to the nobility. The kingdom''s position was that these sacrifices would not be in vain if the newfound wealth bolstered the military and strengthened the nation.


    With the surplus funds, perhaps they could even erect a memorial stone for the fallen.


    "Well then, let''s consider this matter settled. Hand over the captured holy knights and priests to the papacy," the king ordered.


    And so, the tragedy of Crowley''s barony was concluded, with no one held accountable.


    Spring seemed to be on its way. The winds, once sharp as blades, had softened, and puddles dotted the roads. The frozen ground was beginning to thaw.


    Michael and Miaomiao had returned to the castle. With Alfred''s help, they had removed the spiked rods piercing the dragon''s wings.


    The young dragon lay sleeping soundly, as if it had not a care in the world. Whether it was under the influence of a sleep spell or some kind of sedative, the dragon slumbered deeply even as the rods were carefully extracted.


    It had been more than two weeks since the dragon was found at Leonardo''s hideout, and it still showed no signs of waking. Michael wondered if the dragon might be hibernating.


    As for Leonardo, he had been secretly taken by Alfred for "repentance." He was to be sent back to Michael after serving his penance, though the thought alone gave Michael a headache.


    When Leonardo first met Michael, he had burst into tears and shouted, falling to his knees and placing a hand over his chest.


    "Oh, great one! I pledge myself to your will. Please, accept me!"


    Although Leonardo was a talented artifact craftsman, his excessive devotion to the Outsider made him a problematic addition. Michael would likely have to correct his behavior when he arrived.


    As Michael shook his head at the memory, Miaomiao suddenly exclaimed,


    [Michael! This guy is waking up!]


    The young dragon, roughly the size of a small foal, was stretching its wings and yawning.


    The male dragon rubbed its eyes with its short forelegs and fixed its gaze on Michael and Miaomiao.


    [How dare you kidnap the great me! Humans, return me to my lair at once, or I shall devour you!]


    Before Michael could respond, Miaomiao leapt forward and smacked the dragon''s head.


    [What nonsense are you spouting, you dim-witted dragon head?! We saved you from being sacrificed to the Outsider! Try to remember!]


    The dragon scratched its head with a foreleg, looking thoroughly confused.


    Sensing an opportunity, Michael interjected. Whether or not this dragon had incomplete inheritance, it was still a dragon¡ªa magical beast worth forming a contract with.


    "Oh, mighty dragon, may I ask your name?" Michael said respectfully.


    Miaomiao glared at Michael, ready to pounce, but he held her back tightly.


    "Calm down, Miaomiao. We need to secure the contract first."


    Hissing in frustration, Miaomiao eventually relented, though her swishing tail betrayed her displeasure.


    The dragon turned its bewildered gaze to Michael. Pleased by the respectful tone, it lifted its head arrogantly.


    [My name is Marcus. My parents used to call me Max.]


    Michael offered a friendly smile.


    "Marcus, may I call you Max?"


    The dragon hesitated briefly before nodding.


    [Very well.]


    It plopped onto the ground, extending its hindquarters. Neither the human before it nor the feline nearby seemed particularly threatening.


    [So, why have you brought me here? The last human I met promised to build me a lair of gold, but instead, he captured me and did terrible things. How do I know you''re not like him?]


    Michael smiled again. sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "If I were like that human, would I be treating you so politely?"


    The dragon tilted its head in agreement.


    [Fair enough. Then return me to my lair. I don''t need a golden lair¡ª]


    The dragon paused, suddenly uncertain. Do I really not need one? It imagined how splendid a golden lair would be.


    Michael seized the moment.


    "Oh, mighty dragon, would you truly leave without repaying your benefactor? We saved you from being offered to the Outsider."


    The dragon considered this for a moment. It didn''t particularly enjoy thinking, but it supposed Michael had a point.


    [Then how should I repay you?]


    Michael felt a twinge of guilt for manipulating a dragon with incomplete inheritance, but the opportunity to form a contract with a first-grade magical beast was too tempting to pass up.


    "It''s simple. Grant me a contract for just one-tenth of your remaining life. If I die before that time, the contract will extend to my descendants. This arrangement benefits you far more than it does me. What do you think?"


    [10%? How much is that?]


    Dragons typically lived for around 5,000 years, meaning Michael was proposing a 500-year contract¡ªa highly one-sided deal.


    "One-tenth is like giving up just one apple out of a basket of ten. During the contract, I will provide you with lodging filled with beautiful art and a golden nest lined with silk. Your meals will consist of the finest beef and lamb, served every day."

 Chapter 56 - 56 Banish The Outsider

    The dragon mulled it over. Since leaving its parents'' nest, life had been hard. Its damp, smelly cave and diet of tasteless magical beast meat left much to be desired. It longed for the roasted venison its mother used to prepare.


    [Deer. I want deer too, roasted.]


    Michael nodded eagerly. Compared to the benefits of becoming a dragon knight, the cost was negligible.


    "Then please extend your foreleg. It will sting for a moment, but it''ll be over quickly."


    Hesitant, the dragon finally held out its foreleg.


    Michael drew a knife, making a small cut on the dragon''s foreleg and his own finger, mingling their blood.


    As he did, Miaomiao chanted an incantation:


    Haec pactio sub praesentia divinae creaturae conficitur!


    [Thus, the contract between Marcus of the dragonkin and Michael von Crassus is complete.]


    As Miaomiao''s words ended, Michael felt something sear itself onto his soul.


    And so, the eighth dragon knight of the continent of Rubel was born.


    The day had finally arrived. Alfred completed all preparations for the sealing ritual and called Michael to the site. Michael, accompanied by Miaomiao the sphinx and Marcus the dragon, made his way to an abandoned castle deep in the forest.


    As darkness blanketed the area, Alfred guided Michael into the depths of the dilapidated castle. Its walls were covered in ancient bricks and dust, with remnants of old battles scattered throughout. They stopped at an ancient altar located where the castle''s heart once thrived.


    The altar, inscribed with arcane symbols and magical markings, had a designated space at its center to hold the core. Hope stood nearby, his expression nervous as he glanced at the preparations.


    Alfred lit a series of candles around the altar, their soft glow pushing back the encroaching darkness and bathing the area in a warm, flickering light. With deliberate care, he placed the Outsider''s core at the center of the altar.


    The core emanated a malevolent aura, as though it were anticipating the ritual''s commencement.


    Michael felt an unsettling pressure rising within him, a suffocating sensation emanating from deep in his chest. Could the Outsider within him sense the impending seal? The pain was unbearable, and his eyes began to glow crimson.


    Alfred took a deep breath and knelt Michael before the altar. Sear?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "It''s time. This will only take a moment¡ªendure it," Alfred said firmly.


    Alfred and Hope began chanting an ancient incantation. Their voices echoed around the altar, weaving through the air and resonating with the arcane symbols. The core grew brighter and more ominous, pulsating as if alive.


    Rays of light from the core wrapped around Michael, pulling at the Outsider''s power hidden within him. Michael groaned in pain, his body convulsing as the extraction began.


    In his mind, Penelope''s voice screamed wildly, her words an incoherent, desperate stream:


    [Screams of rage echoed through his mind: How dare you! How could you! This is impossible! Unthinkable! It cannot be!]


    The Outsider''s power was being forcibly drawn from Michael''s body, and Alfred channeled the energy into the core. Penelope''s resistance was fierce, but Alfred''s relentless chanting and manipulation of the altar''s inscriptions intensified.


    ["Grandfather! Please! Stop! It hurts! Save me, Grandfather!"]


    Michael''s voice, or rather Penelope''s mimicry of it, echoed through the chamber.


    Alfred hesitated briefly before renewing his efforts, moving the shadowy tendrils around the altar faster. Penelope''s cries escalated into a shrill, furious scream as a crimson shadow began to coalesce around Michael, writhing chaotically before being pulled entirely into the core.


    When the shadow had fully entered the core, the candles around the altar flickered violently.


    With a brilliant flash, the Outsider''s core shattered into countless pieces, crumbling into nothingness.


    Alfred let out a heavy sigh as the shadows around him dissipated. Michael, still kneeling before the altar, trembled as he lifted his head, his eyes filled with confusion.


    The abandoned castle fell silent once more. Hope, drenched in sweat, gently helped Michael to his feet.


    "It''s over now, Michael. The Outsider within you has been banished," Hope reassured him.


    Michael nodded weakly, gratitude in his gaze as he looked at Alfred and Hope.


    He called Penelope''s name inwardly, but no answer came. Had he lost his powers?


    "Are you wondering if your powers are gone?" Alfred asked, sensing Michael''s hesitation.


    Before Michael could respond, Alfred brought forth Nicholas, still bound and writhing.


    Nicholas had been separated from the rest of the captured knights and priests sent to the capital. Alfred had kept him back for this moment.


    "This man deserves execution, so don''t feel guilty about using him to test your abilities," Alfred said coldly.


    Michael''s mind flashed with images of the women Nicholas had violated and murdered, and the innocent villagers turned into fanatics only to die in agony. Executing him would be an act of justice for those victims.


    Nicholas thrashed against his bindings, desperate to escape. He had envisioned a future of glory and power for himself, not this humiliating end.


    Alfred''s greatsword flashed through the air, slicing cleanly through Nicholas''s neck. His head fell to the ground in a precise, almost mercifully quick death.


    For his crimes, it was far too kind.


    Michael stepped forward and placed a hand on Nicholas''s corpse. The knowledge of what to do came to him instinctively.


    "Absorptionem eligo."


    The familiar starry expanse unfolded before him. Among countless twinkling lights, one descended into his forehead.


    He knew intuitively what power he had gained this time: lockpicking.


    It seemed like a thief''s skill, and while not particularly impressive, it was better than nothing.


    "Did it work?" Alfred asked.


    Michael nodded.


    "The Outsider''s gift, the power to resurrect the dead or absorb one of their abilities at random, still works," Michael confirmed.


    "I see. And you haven''t used the resurrection ability yet?" Alfred asked.


    "No. I''ve never met anyone worthy of being resurrected," Michael admitted.


    Alfred''s expression turned thoughtful.


    "Well, I know of someone perfect for it."


    With that cryptic remark, they buried Nicholas''s remains in a pauper''s graveyard and began their journey home.

 Chapter 57 - 57 A Sense Of Relief

    Miaomiao, perched atop Marcus''s back, was scolding the dragon.


    [You fool! Can''t you walk more steadily?]


    [This is the best I can do, ma''am. Please, have mercy on me.]


    [Hmph! Foolish Max! Stupid Max!]


    Despite her harsh words, Miaomiao gently patted Marcus''s head with a paw, softening the blow.


    [Don''t cry, or you''ll truly be a foolish dragon.]


    Watching the two bicker in their own way brought a smile to Michael''s face.


    Meanwhile, Alfred prodded the groggy Leonardo awake in the annex where he had been bound.


    "You have two choices," Alfred said bluntly. "You can spend the rest of your life imprisoned for offering the souls of villagers and knights to the Outsider, or you can be executed and resurrected to serve Michael."


    Leonardo''s eyes sparkled as though the choice was obvious.


    "Execution, of course!" he exclaimed without hesitation.


    Alfred turned to Hope with a smug look, as if to say, See? I told you.


    Hope sighed, shaking his head as he handed over five gold coins, losing their bet for the 37th time.


    Fearing Leonardo might resurrect in his current state, they decided to administer poison beforehand. Leonardo, utterly unfazed by the idea of death, calmly drank the poison as though it were water.


    Here''s the second part of Chapter 29, translated into English and converted into the third person narrative style:


    Michael felt a chill run down his spine. As Leonardo took his last breath, he looked directly at Michael and smiled brightly¡ªan unsettling sight for someone moments from death.


    He felt no desire to revive him. But leaving someone who had paid the price for their sins without completing their penance wouldn''t sit right. Reluctantly, Michael hesitantly placed his hand on Leonardo''s corpse.


    Once again, the knowledge of what to do came instinctively.


    "Resurrectionis electio."


    Leonardo revived, his pale, bloodless face smiling eerily as he knelt before Michael. His crimson eyes glowed unnaturally¡ªan appearance that would surely invite fiery judgment if he stepped outside.


    "Grandfather¡­ I don''t think he came back as a human," Michael remarked, his voice uneasy.


    Alfred studied Leonardo for a long moment.


    "He''s become a yoma," Alfred declared. "Things have just gotten more complicated."


    At the mention of the word yoma, Leonardo''s head snapped up in alarm.


    "A yoma? Are you saying I''ve become a yoma? Oh, this is¡­"


    Before Leonardo could finish, Michael interrupted, "I didn''t expect this power to work like this¡­"


    But before he could elaborate, Leonardo raised his hands in excitement, cutting him off.


    "This is incredible! I''ve always wanted to be different from everyone else!"


    "¡­Oh. Well, if you''re happy about it, I suppose that''s fine¡­" Michael muttered, unsure how to respond to the enthusiasm.


    As Michael watched Leonardo in disbelief, he turned to Alfred and asked, "Even if he''s useful, we can''t exactly take him anywhere like this, can we?"


    Alfred gave Michael a curious look.


    "That''s not an issue. All you need to do is register him as a familiar with the central office in the capital. Of course, it''ll complicate matters since I''ll have to go personally," Alfred explained.


    "Wait¡­ register him as a familiar?" Michael asked, confused.


    "Exactly. Did you think yoma didn''t exist in this world? Far from it. The capital even has an office specifically for managing registered yoma. As long as he''s registered properly, it won''t be a problem¡ªso long as we avoid the Church of Radiance''s territories."


    Michael frowned, his assumptions about the world shaken. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "I thought all yoma and demons were burned at the stake¡­"


    "Demons, yes¡ªthey''re always burned. An unregistered yoma will be burned if caught causing trouble, and even registered ones will face the same fate if they harm humans without their master''s command."


    "So yoma can only act under human supervision?"


    "Precisely."


    Michael realized he had misunderstood Alfred all along. He had always envisioned his grandfather as a zealot who eradicated all evil beings indiscriminately. But in reality, Alfred was pragmatic, caring only about rightful vengeance and following a rational approach in most matters.


    "So, all we need to do is register Leonardo at this central office?" Michael asked.


    "Exactly. Most of the maids and servants in executioner households are such beings. They''re convenient, and they live forever. Our family didn''t need one before, but now we have one," Alfred said.


    Leonardo, who had looked uneasy at first, seemed to relax as the conversation went on.


    "Still, Leonardo," Alfred said, his tone turning critical, "you''re a yoma now, but you can''t even manage your appearance?"


    Leonardo blinked, realization dawning. He began touching his body, and moments later, his scrawny frame and unkempt hair transformed into that of a handsome man.


    "This¡­ this is amazing! I''m so glad I''ve been given the chance to serve you, Master!" Leonardo exclaimed, his eyes brimming with tears as he admired his new appearance.


    Michael sighed, torn between sympathy and exhaustion.


    "Well, Grandfather, I was already planning to travel to the capital soon for my heir appointment. Why don''t we take him with us then?"


    "That works. I''ll arrange for permission to leave the five estates under my jurisdiction," Alfred replied.


    "By the way, Grandfather, why is it that executioners can''t leave their assigned territories without permission?"


    "Simple: overlapping jurisdictions would cause chaos. Each executioner family has inherited the duty of protecting its designated region, which includes wielding the ability to perceive the essence of others. When I leave my territory, my successor temporarily assumes my role. If I need to cross into someone else''s territory, I must get their approval first," Alfred explained.


    Michael nodded in understanding.


    "So until Leonardo is registered, he''ll have to remain hidden here," he said.


    Alfred smiled faintly.


    "I''ll issue the necessary documents. As an executioner and priest of the God of Death, I''ll certify him as an official familiar of this jurisdiction. That''ll ensure he won''t be suddenly taken away and burned."


    The fear Michael had once felt upon arriving in this world¡ªof being mistaken for a demon or the like and executed¡ªsuddenly felt laughable

 Chapter 58 - 58 Titles And Lands

    After all, yoma were fundamentally different from demons or Outsiders. While yoma were created from transformed spirits, animals, or human souls, demons and Outsiders were beings from entirely separate planes of existence.


    The distinction explained why yoma were treated differently.


    Michael smirked at the irony of the situation. Wasn''t the Church of Radiance''s behavior no different from the Outsider cults they vilified? Hidden away, gathering power in secret, the Church only seemed "divine" because its influence was already established.


    He quickly shook off the thought. In a world where divine eyes could land upon you at any moment, such musings were dangerous.


    Curious, Michael asked, "If Leonardo has become a yoma, what abilities has he gained?"


    Alfred took a sip of tea, courtesy of Clara, before responding.


    "Not all yoma gain special abilities, but ones created like this often do. Given Leonardo''s prior gift from the Outsider, it''s likely his abilities have evolved."


    Leonardo beamed with excitement.


    "Indeed, Master! I can feel it. My original persuasion ability has expanded into the realms of hypnosis and suggestion. Should I demonstrate by charming this woman here?"


    It seemed becoming a yoma hadn''t improved Leonardo''s social awareness.


    Michael shook his head in exasperation.


    "She''s my aunt. Treat her with the same respect you show me."


    Startled, Leonardo quickly apologized.


    "Oh, my deepest apologies, my lady!"


    Clara, ever unfazed by unusual personalities, smiled warmly and reassured him.


    "It''s fine, really. Just relax. By the way, could you chop some firewood outside? And while you''re at it, maybe do some laundry too."


    Her cheerful, nonchalant tone as she assigned chores left Michael speechless.


    Indeed, the true ruler of the house was Clara.


    At that moment, Court Marquis Woodrock sat in his opulent study alongside Count Charles, reviewing a missive from the royal palace. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting shadows across the room and accentuating the refined elegance of the estate.


    The walls were lined with centuries-old tomes and exquisite artwork, while the heavy cherrywood desk bore neatly arranged documents adorned with intricate insignias.


    "So, they''re quietly asking us to investigate the whereabouts of the blood quill¡­" Marquis Woodrock mused, folding the missive carefully and setting it aside.


    He looked up, his expression thoughtful.


    "Count Charles, you thoroughly searched Crowley Castle, didn''t you? From my perspective, it seems likely that this Nicholas fellow fled to the Church of Radiance with the quill. Didn''t they find a teleportation circle in the room he used as his sanctum?"


    Count Charles hesitated momentarily before nodding.


    "Yes, I think so too. There''s no way to track him now, and the evidence points to the quill being returned to the Church of Radiance. We''ve already uncovered proof that their agents deliberately approached Nicholas and Leonardo," he said, his tone dark and heavy.


    Marquis Woodrock snorted in disdain.


    "Ha! Those brazen cowards. I hear they''re now accusing us of hiding the blood quill. Such audacity from people who dare to call themselves priests."


    He threw the document onto his desk with a show of anger.


    Count Charles nodded, sharing the Marquis''s frustration.


    "Indeed. Truly despicable. They preemptively smuggled the quill away, and now they''re accusing us of concealing it. It''s infuriating," Charles said with a weary sigh.


    Marquis Woodrock turned toward the window, gazing out thoughtfully.


    "Still, with the Church of Radiance having retrieved the quill, there''s no guarantee they won''t cause another uproar, is there?"


    He glanced back at Count Charles, who responded with firm resolve.


    "They''ve suffered a severe humiliation, and their baseless accusations against us suggest they''re desperate to deflect blame. It''s likely they''ll keep the quill hidden away for good this time, both to avoid further scandal and to obscure their own sins," Charles said confidently.


    Marquis Woodrock mulled over this for a moment before nodding.


    "Fair point. If the quill reappeared, it would be like smearing filth on their own faces."


    He allowed himself a faint smile of relief. Count Charles returned the expression, reassured.


    "So I think we can rest easy on that front," Charles concluded.


    The Marquis''s tense features relaxed slightly.


    "Still, their cunning knows no bounds. Their bold accusations are likely a preemptive move to dissuade us from demanding greater compensation," Woodrock observed.


    Charles nodded in agreement.


    "Exactly. Infuriating as it is, at least we''ve secured a significant benefit: exemption from tithes. That alone is a win for us," he said, a small, satisfied smile spreading across his face. His eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of someone who had scored a minor victory over the Church.


    Marquis Woodrock unfolded the missive once more, tapping his desk thoughtfully. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "I hear that young Michael of House Crassus distinguished himself during this ordeal. What''s your impression of him?"


    There was a trace of curiosity, perhaps even envy, in the Marquis''s voice. While he acknowledged Michael''s accomplishments, there was a subtle undertone of resentment¡ªan unspoken comparison to his own son, who had yet to receive such recognition.


    Charles''s reply carried a hint of tension.


    "He''s a decent man. I had my son Louis spend some time with him, and the boy said Michael was both competent and virtuous. From what I''ve seen, he''s an exceptional talent, particularly in training soldiers. I even considered proposing a marriage alliance by offering my illegitimate daughter, but¡­ I didn''t want to risk straining relations over her status, so I dropped the idea altogether," Charles admitted, his tone tinged with regret.


    Marquis Woodrock watched Charles''s expression with interest, detecting the faintest trace of jealousy.


    "I see. If he''s of that caliber, then it''s no surprise the royal palace is considering raising his title and expanding his lands," Woodrock remarked casually.


    Charles''s eyes widened in shock.


    "An elevation in rank and additional lands?"


    He sank back into his chair, struggling to process the news. Jealousy and wariness swirled within him at the prospect of House Crassus receiving such a substantial reward.


    "That''s¡­ problematic," Charles murmured. "House Crassus holds one of the five baronies carved from the old Barkley Earldom, shared among five vassals. Expanding their territory would cause significant backlash from the others. They swore a pact among themselves to prevent just such an occurrence."


    His voice carried both genuine concern and thinly veiled resentment.

 Chapter 59 - 59 New Era of Pioneering

    Marquis Woodrock smiled knowingly, as though already privy to the royal court''s plans.


    "Perhaps they''ll be granted one of the newly designated frontier lands instead," he suggested, his tone brimming with confidence.


    Understanding dawned on Charles, and he nodded. A mixture of emotions flitted across his face¡ªthough jealousy and apprehension remained, the prospect of House Crassus being assigned a distant, undeveloped territory offered some consolation.


    "Ah, that makes sense," Charles said, his tone noticeably lighter.


    "Besides, that region has been rife with conflict with the Pamir Empire. Assigning it to a capable leader would be a logical choice," he added, his voice now carrying a note of approval.


    "Still, that sounds more like a punishment than a reward. Ha! Not that I''m complaining¡ªfewer competitors for me," Charles quipped with a laugh, masking his mixed feelings of pity and relief at House Crassus''s predicament.


    Marquis Woodrock chuckled in agreement.


    "House Crassus is a rising noble family with little influence in the central court," Charles remarked. "It seems their significant gains from the Crowley territory have irritated the two viscounts. They probably think House Crassus stole what should have been theirs."


    Marquis Woodrock nodded in agreement.


    "That''s likely. The viscounts have strong ties to the central court, so they won''t tolerate House Crassus gaining more power. However, with a title promotion and a territory several times larger than their current holdings, they can''t outright oppose it." sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The viscounts, as long-established noble houses deeply entrenched in central politics, viewed the success of the emerging House Crassus with jealousy and suspicion. Fearing that their influence and power might be diminished, they were likely planning ways to undermine Crassus''s growth.


    "Those two viscounts are always shrewd political players," Charles continued.


    "They won''t sit idly by while House Crassus strengthens its position. They''ll undoubtedly take measures to curb their influence, whether by applying political pressure through their central connections or by stirring unrest within Crassus''s new territory."


    The Marquis nodded, his expression grim.


    "Indeed. The viscount houses will do whatever it takes to protect their interests. They won''t stand by and let Baron Crassus rise to the rank of viscount and wield even greater power."


    Charles, too, reflected on the viscounts'' complex political maneuvers.


    "In the end, this is all about the struggle for power and influence. House Crassus may grow stronger from this opportunity, but they''ll face considerable challenges along the way," he said.


    Tension hung heavy in the room. Marquis Woodrock, wary of northeastern nobles gaining too much authority, and Charles, uneasy about the rise of new powers, both pondered their next moves.


    "Well, at least we can breathe a little easier," the Marquis said finally, breaking the silence. "If they''re sent to the frontier, it''ll be less of a headache for us. Ha!"


    The two men shared a laugh, their earlier tension easing as the room''s atmosphere lightened. The elegant study returned to its usual tranquil state.


    The next morning, a royal messenger arrived at Crassus Manor.


    The morning sunlight gleamed off the high towers of the estate, and the fresh spring breeze swept over the castle walls.


    Michael and Baron Crassus stood by the castle gates, awaiting the messenger.


    As the gates opened, the royal courier entered, bearing a scroll embossed with the ornate seal of the royal palace.


    The atmosphere within the castle grew tense. Servants and guards paused their work to watch the courier, curiosity etched on their faces.


    The baron and Michael greeted the messenger and escorted him to the great hall.


    With a bow, the courier began to speak.


    "Baron Crassus, Sir Michael, I bring an important decree from His Majesty, King Charles V."


    Baron Crassus accepted the scroll, broke the seal, and unrolled the parchment. All eyes in the room were fixed on his hands.


    Taking a deep breath, the baron read the decree aloud:


    "By the order of Charles V, rightful and just king of the Kingdom of Lania, Baron Crassus is hereby elevated to the rank of viscount and tasked with pioneering a new territory in the northern frontier."


    A heavy silence descended on the hall.


    Then, murmurs began to spread among the assembled retainers, their hushed voices growing louder as the implications sank in.


    "This makes no sense!" one retainer hissed, his face flushed with anger.


    "They want us to abandon our current land and move to the frontier? What kind of decree is this?"


    Another clenched his fists, his voice trembling with unease.


    "Why would the king disregard us and make such a decision?"


    As the murmurs turned into a clamor, indignation and fear filled the room.


    "This is absurd! Pioneering the frontier is dangerous!" a retainer shouted. His eyes burned with both dread and fury.


    "Leave a stable territory to settle in some uncharted wilderness? The title promotion is just sugarcoating¡ªthey''re trying to rein us in!"


    The growing uproar began to unsettle the royal messenger. Sensing the tension, Baron Crassus raised his hand, his voice cutting through the noise.


    "Enough! Quiet down!"


    The baron''s firm tone brought a measure of calm.


    "Listen. This isn''t all bad news. The new territory we''ve been granted is five times the size of our current lands. True, it''s on the frontier, but with effort and cultivation, it could far surpass what we have now. Haven''t we already dealt with constant friction from neighboring lords here?"


    His voice carried both authority and reason, momentarily soothing the crowd.


    Michael stepped forward to support his father.


    "From my perspective, our current territory has little room for further development," Michael began.


    "As you know, our barony was once part of a larger earldom, divided among five barons. The boundaries are too tightly packed, and the covenant made during the division prevents us from expanding further. Isn''t that correct?"


    Several retainers nodded reluctantly, acknowledging the truth in Michael''s words.


    He paused, giving them time to absorb his argument.


    While the new territory promised many dangers and challenges, it also held the potential for growth and prosperity. Considering the ongoing disputes over boundaries with neighboring lords, starting fresh in an unclaimed land might be a wiser course.

 Chapter 60 - 60 Harsh Reality

    One retainer spoke up hesitantly.


    "Sir Michael has a point. Pioneering new land is risky, but if successful, the rewards could be immense."


    Another chimed in, his tone more thoughtful.


    "True. Our current land has been nothing but a source of contention with neighboring lords. With no opportunity for territorial expansion, it''s become a burden. Starting anew might be the better choice."


    Seeing the gradual shift in his retainers'' attitudes, Baron Crassus exchanged a glance with Michael.


    The decree was final; there was no room for negotiation. But Michael''s timely reasoning had quelled much of the initial unrest.


    The baron gave his son an approving nod before addressing the room.


    "Exactly. Let''s approach this as an opportunity rather than a setback. It won''t be easy, but if we work together, we can make this new land our own and create a brighter future."


    The retainers began nodding, their resolve slowly solidifying. While traces of unease and resentment remained, they understood they had little choice but to accept.


    Watching the scene unfold, Michael thought to himself:


    Tackling the challenges of our current land seemed overwhelming, but perhaps this change is a blessing in disguise.


    A new era of pioneering was about to begin.


    Michael contemplated the most critical task for developing the new territory. Was it establishing efficient transportation or improving the environment? No. The foremost priority was securing talent.


    This had long been an issue for House Crassus. As a relatively new noble family¡ªseparated from the Barclay Earldom 300 years ago¡ªthey lacked the prestige of an ancient lineage. The stigma of betrayal hung over their name, tarnishing their reputation and limiting their ability to attract talented individuals.


    Most of the current retainers were descendants of families who had served the Crassus estate for generations. Recruiting new talent was challenging, and even retaining existing personnel was a struggle.


    Michael gazed out of his study window at the vast plains and forests stretching across the horizon. Despite the picturesque landscape, his thoughts remained heavy. Leaving behind the familiar to pioneer new lands was no small task. Michael''s vision wasn''t merely territorial expansion¡ªit was true development, where knowledge and technology flourished.


    But the reality was harsh.


    The great noble houses monopolized knowledge and hoarded talent, while smaller houses suffered from a severe shortage of capable individuals.


    Seated in his study, Michael reflected on the past. His memories reminded him of the many academies scattered across the continent. However, the graduates of these academies were often tied to powerful patrons or noble houses with established reputations. Those free to choose their paths were so exceptional that House Crassus could hardly hope to attract them¡ªneither their wealth nor their honor was sufficient to compete.


    Michael knew how dire the situation was. For House Crassus to overcome its limitations as an upstart noble house, he needed a novel approach.


    Summoning Leonardo to his study, Michael hoped the talented artifact artisan might have connections to the academies or mage towers.


    Leonardo, who had become a yoma, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his new existence. His loyalty to Michael was as overwhelming as it was unsettling.


    Led by Alex, Michael''s squire, Leonardo entered the study, visibly excited. His transformed appearance was striking¡ªhis towering frame, muscular build, and handsome features, crowned with long black hair, bore little resemblance to his former self. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Yet, Michael found it unnerving.


    Having such a strikingly handsome man gazing at him with adoration in his eyes was nothing short of uncomfortable.


    "Leonardo, take a seat," Michael instructed, gesturing toward a chair.


    Leonardo obeyed without hesitation, settling into the seat as he awaited orders.


    Since gaining new powers as a yoma, Leonardo had devoted himself to crafting new scripture for Michael, viewing him as a divine figure. Even with the Outsider sealed and gone, Leonardo''s devotion had not wavered.


    In truth, his former worship of the spider-like Outsider had shifted entirely to Michael. His mind teemed with plans to establish a religion around Michael, complete with sacred texts.


    Michael would have been horrified if he knew.


    "Master, your humble servant has come at your call. What is it that you require of me?" Leonardo asked, his tone reverent.


    Michael sighed. While the excessive loyalty was appreciated in a way, it was more unsettling than reassuring.


    "Leonardo, which mage towers have you studied at?" Michael asked, steering the conversation toward the matter at hand.


    Leonardo paused briefly before answering.


    "I was born and raised in the Church of Radiance and first enrolled at the Bronia Academy within its domain," he began, his voice tinged with the bitterness of unpleasant memories. The rigid rules and religious indoctrination of Bronia had suffocated his spirit.


    "But their incessant preaching and strictness drove me away. I fled to the Pamir Empire, only to find their approach overly militant. They were obsessed with battle magic, and the so-called mages focused solely on creating combat spells. I wanted something more scholarly, so I left for the Kingdom of Celeste."


    A faint smile graced Leonardo''s face at the mention of Celeste.


    "It truly lived up to its reputation as a center of art and learning. I became the apprentice of an artifact artisan and learned many things. Unfortunately, I had to flee again when my master decided to marry me off to his daughter. I had no interest in marriage. After that, I wandered the continent, studying at various mage towers, until I eventually met my previous master. But all that is in the past now. Ever since meeting you, I''ve realized my former allegiance meant nothing."


    Leonardo''s voice brimmed with satisfaction as he gazed at Michael with fervent eyes. The intensity of his devotion made Michael''s head ache.


    Still, in this remote region, someone of Leonardo''s caliber was a rare gem. Michael knew he had to make the most of it.


    "I need your help to recruit and cultivate talent," Michael said. "Do you know anyone worth bringing here? It doesn''t matter what field they excel in, as long as they''re exceptional. How can we attract academy-trained individuals to join us?"

 Chapter 61 - 61 Attract Talents

    Leonardo''s eyes gleamed with renewed zeal.


    "My lord, to be of service to you is the greatest honor! I''ve already thought of a way! With your resources, we can entice them easily!"


    "Tell me specifically how we''d do that," Michael prompted, wary of Leonardo''s intensity but intrigued nonetheless.


    Leonardo flashed a radiant smile that sent a shiver down Michael''s spine. It was the kind of unnerving grin that reminded him of a famous villain from his past life''s movies.


    "It''s simple! You, my lord, are a dragon knight and have a sphinx under your command. What is there to hesitate about? Just let it be known that scholars can come here to study your dragon and sphinx, and the mad mages will swarm in like bees to honey. The knights trying to breed magical beasts using dragon blood will be no different!"


    Michael sat silently, pondering Leonardo''s bold suggestion. He replayed the words in his mind.


    Of course, he thought. I''ve been viewing this situation too much from a modern perspective. Sometimes, you fail to recognize the value of what''s right in front of you.


    Leonardo''s words had opened his eyes to the unique opportunity presented by the presence of Miaomiao, the sphinx, and Markus, the dragon. He had underestimated how their existence could captivate the minds of others and draw unparalleled attention.


    A flicker of excitement lit up within him as he realized the potential.


    "Are you saying the sphinx and the dragon could be enough to lure talented individuals here?" Michael asked, still processing the idea.


    Leonardo nodded vigorously.


    "Absolutely, my lord! Magicians are always on the hunt for new knowledge and research opportunities. There are only seven dragon knights across the continent, and I can assure you, none of their dragons are as approachable as Markus. Moreover, the prospect of researching magical beasts using dragon blood is irresistible to knights with their own beasts. Many of them are high-ranking nobles or influential figures who could become your patrons.


    "And let''s not forget the sphinx. The chance to converse with such a rare and mythical creature would have the archmages lining up at your doorstep! If you make your presence known during your upcoming trip to the capital, I bet you''ll return with a retinue of scholars and knights. They''ll be flocking to your banner like moths to a flame!"


    The audacity of the plan left Michael momentarily speechless.


    "But... wouldn''t that be dangerous?" he asked cautiously. "Wouldn''t attracting so much attention make us a target for jealousy from the major powers?"


    Leonardo scoffed, his confidence unwavering.


    "Hah! Who would dare provoke the wrath of a sphinx and a dragon? While they may not tilt the scale of a territorial war or a conflict between nations, they can certainly handle anyone foolish enough to be a ringleader. Even a king would think twice before meddling."


    Leonardo''s words brimmed with conviction, a testament to his understanding of the immense power embodied by the sphinx and the dragon. These were not mere magical beasts; the sphinx symbolized wisdom and mystery, while the dragon represented unmatched strength and destruction.


    Michael exhaled slowly, nodding in agreement.


    "I see. That''s reassuring. We''ll proceed with your plan to attract talent. If we can draw magicians and knights, bringing in other scholars should be even easier. Thank you, Leonardo. You''ve lightened my burden."


    Leonardo''s eyes welled with tears, his emotions spilling over.


    "To have my humble suggestion accepted by you, my lord it''s an honor beyond words!" he exclaimed, tears streaming down his face like chicken droplets. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael watched the emotional display with a mix of awkwardness and exasperation. He wiped the sweat from his brow as Leonardo left the room, still sniffling with joy.


    "I can''t take much more of this," Michael muttered to himself before heading off to find his father, Baron Dominic.


    "Ah, Michael. What brings you here?" Dominic asked, his voice warm.


    "I wanted to discuss our plans for the upcoming trip to the capital," Michael replied.


    "Good timing," Dominic said, leaning forward. "I was about to call for you myself. With my title about to be elevated, I need to make preparations for the journey. What do you think about the size of the entourage we should take?"


    Michael, focused on the broader picture, began explaining his ideas and Leonardo''s proposal. As he spoke, Dominic''s expression brightened, his enthusiasm growing with each detail.


    When Michael finished, Dominic clapped his hands together.


    "Well, isn''t that a brilliant idea? To think those ''pets'' of yours are such incredible assets... Your grandfather should have sent them to us sooner. Haha! We''ve struck gold with this arrangement! But tell me, how did you manage to form a contract with the dragon? They''re known for their pride and only bond with those they deem worthy."


    Michael hesitated, then admitted reluctantly, "To be honest, it''s because Markus is... well, not the brightest."


    "Ah," Dominic murmured, nodding in understanding. "I see."


    After a moment of contemplation, he added, "No need to let anyone else know that. Let''s keep that little detail between us."


    "Understood," Michael said, inwardly sighing.


    Dominic seemed to consider something else. "Markus exudes a certain confidence when he''s silent. As long as he doesn''t speak too much, no one will suspect anything. We can use his natural greed to intimidate anyone who questions us."


    Satisfied with that plan, Michael shifted the conversation to a more pressing concern.


    "How do you plan to fund the pioneering efforts? The gold we earned from the Crowley campaign won''t be nearly enough."


    Dominic fell silent, his expression thoughtful, before responding.


    "First, we''ll collect contributions from our vassals. They''ve served our house faithfully all these years; it''s only fair they invest in this venture. Next, we can request funds from the freemen who wish to accompany us. They''ll see the opportunities in a new land and won''t mind making a small investment. As for the serfs, well, they''re ours by default. They don''t have a choice in the matter."


    Michael nodded, following his father''s logic.

 Chapter 62 - 62 A Ride To The Capital

    Dominic continued, "Then there''s this estate. We don''t yet know who will inherit it, but we can certainly demand compensation. This land is the result of our family''s labor, and anyone taking it will owe us for that.


    "We can also sell various rights¡ªpassage rights, hunting rights, and judicial privileges. These were hard-won by our house, and we can set a fair price for them. If anyone dares to contest that, well, let them try."


    Dominic''s confidence was contagious, and Michael''s spirits lifted.


    "You''re right," Michael agreed. "Those measures should provide substantial funding. And given that this relocation is by royal decree, we should also petition the crown for additional support. No, we should demand it."


    Dominic smiled approvingly.


    "Precisely. We''re entitled to compensation and assistance. The crown must have its reasons for relocating us, so we''ll ensure they provide adequate resources."


    Encouraged by the momentum of the conversation, Michael added, "It might also be worthwhile to court investors from the capital''s merchant class. If we bring renowned mages and knights to the frontier, we''ll certainly catch the merchants'' attention."


    Dominic''s expression brightened further.


    "Yes, the merchants are always eager to seize new opportunities. And don''t forget, we can also draw on connections from the in-laws of your sisters. That''s the whole point of building strong marriage alliances."


    Dominic cast a proud look at his son, his thoughts briefly drifting to Michael''s future.


    No, it was too soon to consider marriage for him. Michael was still young, with so much potential ahead.


    "For now, let''s finalize our plans for the entourage," Dominic said.


    Michael smiled, a sense of anticipation filling him.


    With the entourage decided and the season turning warmer, the journey to the capital would soon begin.


    The fortress of Namjang was filled with tension and energy. The morning sunlight bathed the walls, wrapping the entire fortress in a warm embrace. The weather was pleasantly mild¡ªperfect for traveling.


    In the expansive courtyard within the fortress, people bustled about. Fifty selected guards exchanged conversations with their visiting families. Greg, officially appointed as the barony''s blacksmith, inspected weapons and shields with precision.


    Inside the living quarters of the baron and his family, the sharp voice of Elizabeth echoed through the halls.


    "Anna! We''ll need more muslin cloth. What we have isn''t even enough to polish the pauldrons! Brianna! Help me wrap Father''s and Michael''s dress uniforms in parchment paper."


    The head maid, Anna, and Elizabeth''s personal attendant, Brianna, moved swiftly. They had to embroider the surcoats and cloaks with the newly crafted family crest for the knighting ceremony and prepare the formal dress uniforms for the ball. They also packed elaborate hats, pauldrons, gauntlets, and boots into boxes, locking them securely. The endless list of travel necessities left them overwhelmed.


    In the great hall, Oliver, the steward, inspected the retainers'' preparations. He meticulously examined their luggage, ensuring that anything excessive was reduced and any deficiencies were supplemented.


    At the stables, Paul, the stable master, conducted a final check of the horses. He brushed their manes and looked each of them in the eye.


    "Don''t worry, my friends. We''ll make it back safely."


    The harnesses were all inspected, and everything was set for departure.


    In the kitchen on the first floor, Margaret, the head chef, prepared provisions for the journey. She instructed the servants to pack bread, smoked meat, dried rations, and separately include fruits and vegetables. The servants moved briskly, placing the food into baskets and loading them for transport.


    At the chapel within the fortress, Edward, the priest of the Radiant Church, offered a quiet prayer. Although the baron and Michael harbored grievances against the church, Edward himself was a devout and virtuous man. His solemn voice added a sense of sanctity and tranquility to the chapel.


    "O Lord of Light, our sanctuary and guide, please bless this journey and grant us safety." S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Behind him, the young Phoebe and Kate knelt in prayer, aware of how critical this trip to the capital was for their family.


    In the library, Michael, the scribe, organized the documents necessary for the knighting ceremony. With his strict demeanor, he carefully reviewed the papers spread across his desk, ensuring that no details were overlooked.


    After what seemed like preparations that would never end, everything was finally ready. Dominic and Michael gathered with their retainers in front of the gate. Dominic addressed Lawrence, the treasurer.


    "Is the budget well-prepared?"


    Lawrence replied with confidence. "Of course, my lord. All expenses are accounted for within the budget."


    The baron turned to the soldiers and shouted, "This journey is of utmost importance. I expect everyone to be fully prepared!"


    The soldiers responded with a unified nod and resounding cheers. At the front, Sir Ronald raised the banner high. The golden embroidery of a roaring sphinx and dragon gleamed under the sunlight¡ªa new crest for House Crassus, designed by Leonardo himself. The imagery of the sphinx and dragon seemed to prophesize the family''s future prosperity.


    With their thorough preparations complete, the entourage passed through the fortress gates, accompanied by the farewells of their families. At the rear, the healer Hope and Carl rode on horseback. Michael and his squire, Julian, rode in a carriage to accommodate the sphinx Miaomiao and the dragon Marcus.


    Dominic had hoped to join them but was driven off by Miaomiao''s hissing protests. Other squires, Alex and Anthony, flanked the carriage to guard it, while Leonardo himself took the reins as the coachman, having ousted the original driver in his determination to claim the honor of driving Michael''s carriage.


    Unexpectedly, the group also included the Baron of Kensington. Officially, he claimed to be traveling to sell his prized "Rainbow Plus" colt in the capital, but everyone knew his real goal was Miaomiao and Marcus. Like Dominic, however, he failed to secure a seat in the carriage.


    The carriage itself was a masterpiece. Specially crafted by the village carpenters and blacksmiths, it was designed to ensure smooth travel for the sphinx and dragon. The exterior was built from sturdy oak, adorned with intricate carvings and gilded accents showcasing the family crest. Its steel-reinforced wheels made it suitable for any terrain, and the door was fortified with metal locks for safety.

 Chapter 63 - 63 Collapsed Road

    The windows were custom-made artifacts by Leonardo, worth tens of thousands of gold. The magical glass allowed those inside to see out, but not the reverse, a feature that was sure to delight the ladies of the capital.


    Inside, a plush chair was set up for Miaomiao, while Marcus had his portable nest¡ªa luxurious creation lined with gold-threaded brocade. True to his dragon nature, Marcus lounged in his nest, clutching gemstones from his recent spoils in his claws as he dozed off. Watching him, Miaomiao clicked her tongue.


    [What a lazy dragon. Hey! Wake up, will you?]


    Startled by Miaomiao''s prodding, Marcus groggily opened his eyes. [What is it now, sister? Do you need something?]


    [Ha! All you do is eat and sleep. You''re no different from a baby chick. Why don''t we just call you ''Peep''?]


    [Call me whatever you want, sister. Just know that if anyone else tries, they''ll be my next meal.] S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Exasperated by his indifference, Miaomiao sighed deeply. What a dull reaction! Maybe she''d go and bother Hope instead.


    Michael watched the pair with a satisfied smile. It was good to see them getting along. Julian, however, had his hands full serving them. From trimming Miaomiao''s claws to brushing her fur, and ensuring Marcus''s meals were on time, the young squire found himself handling more beastly errands than knightly duties.


    It felt odd, but it wasn''t all bad. Who knew what opportunities might arise?


    There was speculation about whether Michael''s growing affinity with the beasts might one day make him a Beast Rider upon his knightly awakening. The most common method of acquiring a beast companion was to venture into the Drago Mountains and test one''s luck. However, knights who ventured there usually met one of two fates: either they emerged with a beast or they themselves became a mutated monster.


    Everyone dreamed of finding a high-grade beast capable of intelligent communication, but such fortune was rare. This was why beast breeding and the sale of young beasts flourished as businesses¡ªmoney offered a safer alternative to risk.


    Michael harbored hopes that as his territory prospered, it might eventually support beast breeding. Perhaps, like the Wyvern Battalions of the Radiant Kingdom, his lands could develop a lineage of wyverns bred for military might. Theoretically, the purified blood of a dragon could elevate a lesser beast''s bloodline, and when used on a pregnant beast, it often resulted in offspring of a higher grade than their parents. For this reason, Michael knew he had to maintain Marcus''s goodwill.


    The journey grew monotonous, and Miaomiao seemed endlessly restless, constantly seeking to play.


    [Marcus, you little chick! Are you napping again? Ugh, seriously¡­ wake up already!]


    "Miaomiao, stop bothering Max. He still needs time to fully heal from his injuries," Michael said, his tone calm but firm.


    Momentarily hesitating, Miaomiao reached out and gently patted Marcus''s head. Marcus mumbled incoherently before burying his snout in his wings and drifting back to sleep.


    [Chick-like as ever. Sigh¡­ Michael, give me another riddle. The last one was quite good, you know.]


    Michael smiled at the bored sphinx. To maintain peace inside the carriage, he decided another riddle might be in order.


    "Hmm¡­ Alright, here''s a tougher one this time. Try to solve it."


    He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then spoke in a serious tone.


    "I have no house, yet I enter people''s homes. I have no wings, yet I''m always flying. What am I?"


    Miaomiao grew quiet as she pondered the question. The carriage fell into a serene calm once again. Michael gazed out the window, contemplating the journey ahead as the carriage rocked gently along the road.


    After some time, Miaomiao''s triumphant voice broke the silence.


    [Got it! It''s the wind! It''s wind, isn''t it, Michael?]


    "Wow, as expected of the wise sphinx! That''s correct, Miaomiao," Michael praised her.


    Pleased with the compliment, Miaomiao raised her tail high, the tip quivering with pride.


    [Hmph! Another one! Give me another riddle!]


    "Alright, alright. Here''s one more," Michael replied with a chuckle. After thinking for a moment, he posed the next question.


    "I have thousands of leaves, yet I am not a tree. What am I?"


    Miaomiao''s tail flicked as she delved into deep thought again. Just as she was about to answer, a loud commotion erupted from outside.


    The carriage came to an abrupt halt, jolting Marcus awake. Michael quickly opened the carriage door to assess the situation.


    "What''s going on?" he asked.


    Anthony, who was standing guard nearby, responded immediately.


    "My lord, the road ahead has collapsed. It appears to be blocked. Alex has gone ahead to investigate."


    Michael moved to step out of the carriage, but both Miaomiao and Leonardo stopped him. Reluctantly, he issued instructions through Anthony.


    "Remain on alert! Inspect the surroundings and ensure the safety of my father and Baron Kensington. Where is Grandfather?"


    The soldiers quickly drew their weapons and surrounded the carriage in a defensive formation. Leonardo leapt onto the roof of the carriage to get a better view.


    "The baron and the¡­ uh, monster¡ªno, I mean, your grandfather¡ªare safe, my lord," Leonardo reported. "The baron is with Baron Kensington under the soldiers'' protection, and your grandfather is with Hope. Fortunately, no one appears to be injured."


    Despite this reassurance, the situation demanded caution. A road collapse on the main route to the capital was far from ordinary. There had been no recent heavy rains to explain such an occurrence.


    Michael gave Anthony another order.


    "This doesn''t seem accidental. Divide the soldiers¡ªhalf will guard the carriage, and the rest will scout the area. Report anything unusual immediately."


    Anthony nodded and sprinted off. Leonardo, perched atop the carriage, scanned the horizon with sharp, reddened eyes.


    Suddenly, Michael felt a surge of foreboding. Drawing his sword, he thrust it downward into the carriage floor.


    A spray of blood and a sharp scream followed. At the same time, Miaomiao''s massive paw slammed into the air with crushing force. Her claws tore through the shadow of a man attempting to sneak beneath the carriage.

 Chapter 64 - 64 Eliminate Everyone And Hide the Inside Story

    Michael adjusted his stance and leapt out of the carriage. The scene outside was already chaos.


    Enemies, emerging from the fractured ground, clashed fiercely with the trained soldiers. Sir Ronald battled multiple foes simultaneously, while Michael''s father and Baron Kensington fought with intensity.


    Carl''s shadow magic ensnared and crushed several assassins at once, driving them into the ground.


    Drawing his sword, Michael charged into the fray. When an enemy blocked his path, he swiftly ducked and slashed at the man''s legs, sending him to the ground screaming. Without hesitation, Michael finished him off before moving on to the next target.


    "Hold the defensive line as trained! Form groups of five and drive the enemy back!" Michael shouted.


    As more assassins surged forward, Leonardo threw himself into their path, howling in desperation to protect his master. However, he was quickly overwhelmed, and it was Miaomiao who saved him.


    [You fool! Why are you rushing in when your ability is confusion magic, you idiot?!]


    Now larger than a Siberian tiger, Miaomiao shoved Leonardo aside with her tail before ripping the assassin apart with her claws. Shaking the blood from her paw, she grabbed Michael and flew toward Carl.


    Yes, Miaomiao had wings.


    Carl barely spared them a glance as he continued to crush assassins with his shadow magic. His relentless assault began to push the enemy back. The soldiers, moving in coordination with Michael''s commands, formed a protective circle around the baron and Baron Kensington.


    When the battle finally ended, the area fell silent. Michael stepped forward to assess the situation, flanked by Miaomiao and Carl.


    Although Marcus''s wings had not fully healed, his draconic aggression seemed to boil over, leaving him visibly agitated.


    "Is everyone safe?" Michael asked.


    Fortunately, there were no fatalities among their party. This was thanks to Miaomiao and Carl''s heroics, Michael''s leadership, and the combined strength of Sir Ronald and Baron Kensington.


    The visibly shaken Baron Crassus rushed toward Michael.


    "Are you alright? Grandfather, are you unharmed?"


    Carl, unimpressed by Dominic''s concern, turned his gaze away. His eyes fell on several captured enemies.


    "Well, we''ve got some survivors. Let''s prepare for an interrogation, Michael," he said, his voice dark with intent.


    Excited by the prospect, Michael stepped forward, only to have Leonardo block his path.


    "My lord! There''s no need to dirty your hands. With my confusion magic, I can¡ª"


    Leonardo faltered mid-sentence, bewildered by the expression on Michael''s face. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Why is my lord looking at me like that¡­?"


    Although they didn''t resort to torture, Leonardo''s hypnosis ability proved exceptionally effective and fast. As his crimson-red eyes locked with the assassin''s, the latter''s pupils dilated and his expression grew vacant.


    "Well, did everything go as planned?" Leonardo asked.


    "Yes, madam," the assassin replied robotically. "As ordered, we eliminated everyone from Crassus Barony. That brat Michael? We chopped off his limbs, left him writhing pathetically like an insect, and then beheaded him. Everything was done as instructed."


    "Is that so? Do you know who I am?" Leonardo''s voice carried a probing edge.


    "Of course, you''re the mistress of the household, aren''t you? But don''t worry, we assassins guarantee confidentiality as part of our services," the assassin assured him.


    "And what household am I mistress of?" Leonardo continued.


    "Uh¡­ well, obviously the house of Bishop Orion. Why are you asking this?" the assassin said, puzzled.


    "I just wanted to ensure you knew exactly who you were dealing with. I was also curious whether my husband is aware of this operation."


    "Oh, right, you did specifically request us to handle this without the bishop''s knowledge. Don''t worry, I remember it clearly. By the way, about the remaining payment...?"


    "Hmm. You''ll receive it soon enough. For now, step back ten paces, clean your neck, and wait. Oh, and do you happen to know why I gave this order?"


    "I wouldn''t know, nor do I need to. All I care about is the payment. Please expedite it, madam," the assassin replied.


    Following his instructions, the man obediently stepped back ten paces and began rubbing his neck with his palm, completely entranced.


    "Well, it''s certainly cleaner than torture, I''ll give it that," Michael remarked, clicking his tongue in dissatisfaction. He turned his gaze to Dominic and his grandfather, Carl. The confession suggested that the person behind the assassination was likely the bishop''s mistress. If that was true...


    Dominic, who had been deep in thought, spoke. "It seems likely that one of the priests or holy knights recently extradited to the Radiant Kingdom is an illegitimate child of the bishop."


    Michael nodded. The scenario wasn''t surprising. He recalled how in medieval Christianity, such scandals were not uncommon. The Radiant Church in this world was even more corrupt, so the existence of illegitimate offspring among priests and knights wasn''t far-fetched.


    "If that''s the case, they likely intend to eliminate everyone involved and bury the matter entirely," Michael speculated. "They''re probably framing this as an individual''s misconduct to brush it under the rug."


    Dominic chuckled, impressed by his son''s quick analysis. "Exactly. It wouldn''t be surprising if they''re already dead, and we just haven''t received word yet."


    The baron''s assumption was correct.


    Several days earlier, Isabella, the long-time mistress of Bishop Orion, had been on the verge of madness after learning that her precious youngest son had been massacred while being extradited to the Radiant Kingdom.


    Despite being over sixty, Isabella appeared no older than forty¡ªa stunning beauty with fiery red hair. She lay sprawled across the marble floor, wailing in anguish.


    "My lord! I cannot accept this! Why did our dear Orpheus have to die like that? Couldn''t you have sacrificed someone else and saved him instead?"


    Bishop Orion''s face was pale as he grappled with the reality of his son''s death. It was especially painful knowing his own actions had led to it.


    "Enough! What do you expect me to do about it now? Not just Orpheus, but the entire Seventh Holy Knight Regiment was wiped out. Even the pope''s nephew was among the casualties. My hands were tied!" he barked.

 Chapter 65 - 65 My Precious Assets…No, My Loyal People

    Isabella''s sobbing grew louder, her grief almost unbearable to witness. Unable to stand it any longer, Orion pulled her to her feet, his hands firm but not unkind.


    Despite her tears, Isabella''s beauty remained unblemished. Decades as his mistress had not dulled her allure; if anything, her sorrow only added to her tragic charm. For nearly forty years, she had been his companion, a de facto wife in all but name. Seeing her so broken stirred something in Orion''s heart, but he quickly reined it in. His judgment remained cold and calculating.


    "Now, calm yourself," he said firmly. "I''m aware you sent assassins to Crassus Barony. That''s enough. Stop this now. Remember, you still have three sons left. And don''t forget, I have other children besides yours."


    Isabella''s tear-streaked face shot up in shock at the subtle but unmistakable warning in his tone. While Orion wasn''t inherently cruel, he was not a man who tolerated anyone crossing the line.


    Yes, she needed to tread carefully. After losing one child already, she couldn''t risk alienating Orion further. Besides, she wasn''t the only mistress in his life.


    Slowly, Isabella composed herself and walked toward the velvet sofa in the reception room. Even in sorrow, her movements were graceful, her beauty undiminished. When she seemed sufficiently calm, Orion kissed her pale, soft forehead and left the room.


    The moment he was gone, however, Isabella''s demeanor changed completely. The grief-stricken expression vanished, replaced by one of pure venom. She tossed her handkerchief aside and summoned her maid.


    "Rosa! Fetch my contact with the assassins, immediately!"


    Rosa, who knew her mistress''s temperament well, approached her with trembling hands.


    "Madam¡­ do you really plan to continue this? Judging by the bishop''s reaction, wouldn''t it be better to stop here?"


    Isabella scoffed, her fiery gaze silencing the maid''s protests.


    "Hmph! Do you think you know him better than I do? Don''t worry. I know his limits. Judging by his response, the previous assassins failed. That was practically permission to try again. This will be the last time, though. If they fail again, I''ll bury the grudge in my heart."


    Her voice trembled as she spoke the final words, her resolve faltering briefly. No, this time would be different. She would hire the best assassin¡ªsomeone unrivaled in their craft¡ªand finally exact her revenge.


    Isabella steadied herself, ready to meet the contact from the assassin''s guild.


    Meanwhile, back at the Crassus camp, the baron and Michael worked swiftly to tend to the injured and reorganize their group. Under the direction of Treasurer Lawrence and Sir Ronald, the servants and guards moved with precision and efficiency.


    Michael approached Carl, who sat on a tree stump with Hope nearby.


    "Grandfather, wouldn''t it be safer for you to stay inside the carriage? Being out here seems dangerous," Michael said with concern.


    He hesitated, glancing at his grandfather, who towered over him at over 190 centimeters with a broad, muscular frame. It felt absurd to think he could protect Carl; if anything, he seemed more like someone who should be asking for Carl''s protection.


    Noticing his grandson''s unease, Carl smiled reassuringly. "Don''t worry about me. I feel more at ease keeping watch out here, especially with the possibility of more trouble ahead. Besides, Miaomiao is guarding the interior of the carriage."


    Michael knew better than to argue. Carl''s overwhelming strength was a source of comfort to the group, and having him stand guard outside provided an extra layer of security.


    Even Dominic and Baron Kensington seemed to sense this, gradually inching closer to the carriage for added protection.


    Leonardo, meanwhile, worked on repairing the carriage''s damaged floor. The surviving assassins, still under his hypnosis, assisted him with surprising competence. Whether it was due to past experience as carpenters or Leonardo''s exceptional hypnotic control, their movements were remarkably coordinated.


    "Bring the spare planks over here," Leonardo instructed.


    One of the assassins immediately complied, handing him a wooden board. Leonardo fitted the plank into place, reinforcing it with magic before securing it tightly. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    His heart burned with determination.


    Leonardo''s hands trembled slightly as he watched the carriage''s repaired frame. His mistake had nearly endangered his master''s life. He swore silently that no carriage under his care would suffer such damage again.


    His eyes turned toward Paul, the stable master, who loitered nearby with a flustered expression. Paul had joined the journey intending to tend the horses and repair any damaged carriages, but Leonardo''s commanding presence left him with no opportunity to contribute.


    Paul glanced at Leonardo nervously, baffled by the squire''s intense glare. "Uh¡­ have these men worked as carpenters before?" he asked, his voice hesitant.


    Without looking up, Leonardo snapped, "Silence, human. How dare you question me?"


    Paul blinked in surprise. The squire appeared to be human, so why did he speak like that?


    Michael interjected with a calm but firm tone. "Leonardo, be polite to our companions. They''re valuable members of this party¡ªmy precious assets¡­ no, my loyal people."


    Paul gazed at Michael with admiration, though he couldn''t shake the feeling something strange had been said. Surely, it was just a misunderstanding.


    "Thank you, young master," Paul replied, bowing slightly.


    Chastened by Michael''s remark, Leonardo begrudgingly apologized. "My apologies. As a mage, I can use hypnosis to draw out individuals'' latent abilities. I''ve simply stimulated their craftsmanship through magic."


    To conceal his true nature as a fiend, Leonardo attributed his abilities to magic¡ªa plausible explanation for most, given that few humans knew much about magic, let alone practiced it. Paul, like many others, lacked the knowledge to question him further.


    The hypnotized assassins followed Leonardo''s instructions with remarkable efficiency, and the carriage steadily regained its original shape. Before long, it was completely repaired. As Leonardo dusted off his hands and stood, the assassins returned to their vacant, dazed states.


    Carl stepped forward and led the hypnotized assassins into the forest for judgment. Although he initially harbored a faint hope that they might be victims of circumstance¡ªorphans sold into the guild or individuals forced into a life of crime¡ªhis interrogation revealed the truth. These men reveled in murder, rape, and theft, making them irredeemable scum.

 Chapter 66 - 66 The Moon Shadows

    Their sentence was hanging.


    Carl selected sturdy branches, tied nooses, and hung each assassin one by one. Hanging was not only simpler than beheading but also served as a public warning when signs were placed beneath the bodies.


    After a time, all the lifeless bodies dangled from the branches, swaying gently. Among them was the corpse of the group''s apparent leader, which was brought to Michael. Carl, Miaomiao, and Michael had already decided that Michael would absorb abilities from only the most worthy targets, and this assassin fit the bill.


    Placing his hand on the limp body, Michael uttered the familiar incantation:


    "Absorptionem eligo!"


    As always, the process revealed the absorbed ability immediately.


    "Shadow Concealment!" Michael exclaimed.


    Jackpot. He had expected something mundane, like tracking or memorization skills, but this was an extraordinary find.


    The memory of the shadow that had tried to infiltrate the carriage earlier surfaced in his mind. Combined with his grandfather''s vast knowledge, Michael quickly connected the dots.


    When Michael glanced at Carl, his grandfather nodded knowingly. "Hmm. Moon Shadows. We''ve crossed paths with troublesome foes."


    Carl''s expression darkened slightly. "I had a friend once who was trained by the Moon Shadows. From a young age, they''re subjected to harsh training to become one with shadows. Their techniques differ from ordinary stealth; they become shadows, making them incredibly difficult to counter. Absorbing that ability was a stroke of luck. Try using it."


    Taking Carl''s suggestion, Michael surveyed his surroundings, seeking the darkest shadow nearby. Stepping into the dense shadows cast by the forest, Michael felt his body slowly merge with the darkness until he vanished entirely, as though absorbed by the void.


    His vision dimmed slightly, as if walking through the shadow itself. Quietly, he began to move, gliding through the darkness undetected.


    Despite his invisibility, Carl and Miaomiao tracked his movements with uncanny precision, their eyes following him as he moved. Michael navigated the shadows toward his father, Dominic.


    Dominic seemed to sense something momentarily, tilting his head slightly, but he quickly returned to his task. Michael passed by his father''s shadow and approached Sir Ronald and Baron Kensington.


    Neither man noticed his presence. Even the griffon accompanying Baron Kensington raised its head sharply, sensing something, but it failed to locate Michael. The creature''s uncertain growls only added to its unease.


    Michael marveled at the power''s potential. A skill that allowed him to evade detection and approach his target undetected¡ªit was perfect for reconnaissance and subterfuge. Against knights ranked below Grade Five or ordinary beasts, it would be unstoppable. Although he wouldn''t be able to bypass protective wards, the possibilities for this ability were endless.


    Returning to Carl and Miaomiao, Michael''s gaze shifted toward the remaining hanging corpses, his eyes glinting with greed.


    Carl intervened with a firm voice. "Enough. Upon examining the bodies, I can tell only two of them were Moon Shadows¡ªthe one you absorbed and the one Miaomiao killed. They''re not common, so don''t waste time on the rest." S~ea??h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Accepting this, Michael nodded. "Grandfather, please tell me everything you know about the Moon Shadows."


    Carl shared his knowledge, recounting the Moon Shadows'' methods and history. With this information, Michael began to formulate a plan.


    Later, he approached his father.


    "Father," Michael began, "the assassins sent by the bishop''s mistress weren''t from an ordinary guild. They were Moon Shadows. According to what I''ve learned, the Moon Shadows start by sending mixed teams of novices and veterans. If the mission fails, they send their best operative for the final attempt. If even the best fails, there''s no further need for concern.


    "Instead of waiting for the next attack, I suggest we set a trap. I''ve already devised a plan."


    As Michael explained his strategy, Dominic''s expression grew brighter.


    "Yes, that''s the way forward," Dominic agreed.


    With renewed determination, the party set out once more. They needed to reach the Lancaster estate, where Julian''s father resided, by nightfall to put the plan into action.


    Sir Lancaster warmly welcomed the unexpected guests who arrived just before dinner. His estate, though not particularly large, was meticulously maintained, and the guards stationed at the entrance were well-trained and disciplined.


    The manor itself, situated at the heart of the estate, was a sturdy stone building of considerable size, containing multiple rooms and halls. Since the Lancasters had already sworn fealty to House Crassus, the visit was met with great hospitality¡ªfurther enhanced by the fact that Julian, Lancaster''s son, served as Michael''s squire.


    In the spacious hall of the manor, a pile of packed luggage indicated that the Lancaster family was also preparing to move to the new frontier lands. Julian''s mother, Ginevra, despite being occupied with organizing furniture and antiques for the journey, ensured that the guests were treated with the utmost care and courtesy.


    A large wooden table, adorned with holly and mistletoe, was placed in the center of the hall, creating a cozy atmosphere. As the guests took their designated seats, they were served an extravagant feast. Course after course of rare delicacies¡ªmeat, fish, bread, and fruit¡ªwere laid before them. Fine mead, wine, and dark beer flowed freely, adding to the meal''s splendor.


    Once the feast concluded, Baron Crassus sent the retainers to their assigned rooms and convened the core members of the group in the drawing room. Gathered there were Dominic, Carl, Hope, Michael, Leonardo, Sir Ronald, and Baron Kensington. The warm fire crackling in the hearth warded off the evening chill.


    Sir Lancaster broke the silence first.


    "I heard there was trouble on your journey. You must have had a hard time. Is there anything I can do to assist you?"


    Dominic, sipping spiced mead to stave off his fatigue, responded with a weary but genial smile.


    "There is, in fact, something we need to ask of you. First, however¡­"


    At Dominic''s prompting, Sir Lancaster clapped his hands, dismissing the servants. Once the drawing room doors were closed, Dominic lowered his voice and began explaining Michael''s plan.


    The conversation unfolded against the soft, rhythmic crackling of the firewood. As the logs burned and the flames danced, the night deepened.


    "Here''s what I need you to create. Think you can manage it?"

 Chapter 67 - 67 Trap

    Michael handed Leonardo a detailed list of specifications. Upon reading it, Leonardo''s face lit up with enthusiasm.


    "Of course, my lord! To be of service to you is the highest honor," he declared, his voice brimming with passion and resolve. Tears of joy glistened in his eyes as he immediately set to work.


    From his enchanted bag¡ªa spatial artifact¡ªLeonardo began pulling out an endless stream of tools and materials. Soon, the room Lancaster had provided for Michael was filled to the brim, leaving little space to maneuver.


    Leonardo commandeered the desk, sketching blueprints for the requested artifacts with a singular focus. His eyes, gleaming with a manic intensity, remained fixed on the intricate designs, while his hands moved swiftly and with precision.


    Michael, unable to tell him to work elsewhere, found himself observing the process. As he watched, he gained a renewed appreciation for Leonardo''s extraordinary skill as both an artifact craftsman and a mage.


    "He might be insane, but he''s serious when he works. Reviving him was worth it. Even if I''d absorbed his abilities, I doubt I''d achieve this level of efficiency."


    Unaware of Michael''s thoughts, Leonardo continued his frenetic pace. His unparalleled talent, combined with the stamina of his fiendish body, allowed him to work without rest. He became so absorbed in the task that he wouldn''t have noticed if Michael moved to another room.


    For two days straight, Leonardo meticulously assembled every piece, imbuing them with magical energy. By the time the final, most intricate artifact was completed, he jumped to his feet, shouting triumphantly.


    The results were stunning. Each artifact was crafted with precision and beauty, exceeding Michael''s expectations. While functionality was paramount, Leonardo took great pride in aesthetics, ensuring his creations were not only effective but also works of art.


    Carefully packing the artifacts into his spatial bag, Leonardo made his way to Michael''s room to deliver them.


    While Leonardo worked tirelessly, the others ventured into the surrounding mountains.


    Among those gathered in the hall the previous evening, only Carl, Hope, and Dominic stayed behind. Dominic feigned injury from the earlier assassin attack as an excuse to remain at the manor, hoping to leverage his supposed condition for compensation later in the capital. Hope, as the group''s healer, stayed by his side, while Carl guarded the estate against potential threats.


    The rest of the group explored the Drago Mountains, relying on Marcus''s exceptional sense of smell to track their target. Mounted on a griffon, they scouted the rugged terrain with the help of their beasts. S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    [Humans, I think it''s this way,] Marcus announced, sniffing the air.


    [You idiot chick! "I think" doesn''t cut it! What kind of answer is that? And how long are you going to keep calling Michael "human"?] Miaomiao snapped, batting Marcus with her paw.


    [Don''t hit me, Miaomiao! I''m sure it''s here. I''ll try to fix my wording¡­ eventually.]


    As Miaomiao and Marcus bickered, the group dismounted and advanced on foot into a damp and shadowy area. The ground beneath them was covered with old graves, likely left by comrades who had buried their fallen in the treacherous mountains. Decaying tombstones and toppled trees added to the eerie atmosphere.


    The sodden earth clung to their boots, making every step a chore. The place was unsettling in every sense.


    Baron Kensington, who had led them in the wrong direction earlier, scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. The others shot him annoyed glances but pressed on.


    "Haha, I was sure it was over there... I must have remembered wrong. Well, no matter, we''ve found it now," Baron Kensington said with a sheepish laugh, scratching the back of his neck.


    The group collectively shook their heads but continued deeper into the forest. The towering trees above blotted out the sunlight, leaving the ground covered in moss and layers of fallen leaves.


    In the shadow of an ancient graveyard, beneath the twisted roots of a massive tree, they finally located their target.


    Baron Kensington and Sir Lancaster, upon seeing the sheer number of specimens, couldn''t hide their delight.


    "This is fantastic," Lancaster exclaimed. "Let''s head back now. With this haul, not only can we proceed with the plan, but we can all share a tidy profit."


    Relief washed over Michael''s face. The essential condition for his plan''s success had been met.


    Having secured the location, Michael took careful notes of the surrounding terrain, sketching a rough map. Thanks to the aerial perspective provided by their beasts, he was able to create a detailed map of the Drago Mountains¡ªa treasure that would make other nobles and knights green with envy.


    Though the great houses might have some historical records, even they wouldn''t possess an aerial map of such accuracy. Without the aid of Miaomiao and Marcus, navigating the beast-filled mountains and creating even a rough draft would have been impossible.


    With their work done, the group promptly left the site. Now that they had completed their reconnaissance, it was time to return to the estate and proceed with the next phase of their plan, utilizing the artifacts Leonardo had prepared.


    The next day, Michael, Dominic, Leonardo, and Hope returned to the location.


    The operation proceeded more smoothly than expected, thanks to their team of five knights, an adept support beast, and a skilled healer. Leonardo''s artifacts proved invaluable.


    Baron Kensington was particularly enamored with his artifact, his hands trembling as if reluctant to return it.


    With all the preparations complete, Michael equipped himself and waited for the Moon Shadow''s top assassin to arrive. His heart was a mixture of anticipation and tension.


    According to Carl, those who could use Shadow Concealment would immediately sense if another user occupied the same shadows. However, the incoming assassin wouldn''t know that Michael had mastered this ability, giving him a significant advantage.


    Michael went over his plan again in his mind, finding renewed confidence in its simplicity and effectiveness. He knew that even with Carl, Miaomiao, and Marcus providing protection, there were limits to how much could be defended.

 Chapter 68 - 68 Capturing The Top Assassin From The Moon Shadows

    No matter how many protectors surrounded him, a single skilled assassin could slip through. And as for magical defenses? Magic in this world was far from omnipotent. Protective and barrier spells had inherent weaknesses. Ultimately, a person had to rely on their own ingenuity. Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Grandfather, I''m heading out to hunt. Don''t worry, I''m taking Miaomiao with me," Michael called out cheerfully before departing the estate.


    The operation to use himself as bait was now in its third day. The group had been at the Lancaster estate for nearly a week, and although the mornings remained peaceful, Michael felt a dark shadow looming over his thoughts.


    He was determined to bring the operation to a swift conclusion. So far, Dominic''s fabricated injury had kept rumors at bay, but any further delays would invite unwelcome attention.


    It would be best to end things today.


    Familiar with the path by now, Michael and Miaomiao moved quietly through the underbrush toward the hunting grounds.


    Spotting a grouse perched in the distance, Michael raised his bow, only to sense something unusual. The shadows around him began to ripple faintly.


    As expected. This assassin is highly skilled¡ªwaiting for the perfect moment to strike while I''m distracted.


    Remaining calm, Michael silently waited for Miaomiao''s signal. With his sound-canceling artifact in place, he relied entirely on his companion to pinpoint the precise moment.


    Finally, Miaomiao gave the signal, tugging sharply on a strand of Michael''s hair.


    "Now, Michael!"


    At the predetermined cue, Michael swiftly pulled out a box from his pack.


    This was Leonardo''s masterpiece, now unveiled to the world. As he activated the intricate magical mechanism on the box, it began to extract the roots of the plant contained within.


    A deafening screech filled the air.


    The mandrake they had painstakingly unearthed in the Drago Mountains let out an ear-splitting wail.


    Simultaneously, the shadows around them convulsed violently, and a figure emerged¡ªa silver-haired man with dark skin.


    The assassin tumbled to the ground, writhing in agony. Blood poured from every orifice on his face, and the look in his eyes was a mixture of confusion and pain. His dagger slipped from his grasp as he rolled helplessly across the dirt.


    After several moments of thrashing, he lay still, reduced to shallow, ragged breaths.


    "Grab him, Miaomiao!"


    Miaomiao, her body now several times larger, pinned the man under her massive paw. The tension that had gripped Michael for days finally melted away.


    He removed the sound-dampening artifact from his ears, allowing the cacophony of the world to rush back in. The rustling of leaves in the wind, birdsong, and the babble of a nearby stream crashed over him like a wave. The sudden onslaught of noise made him stumble backward briefly, but he regained his balance.


    Once his heightened senses adjusted, Michael scanned his surroundings. No further threats emerged. Everything had gone according to plan.


    As expected of a Moon Shadow, the top assassin had come alone¡ªa fact Michael had anticipated when formulating his strategy.


    Michael approached the subdued man, now crushed beneath Miaomiao''s paw. The assassin, still gasping for air, wore an expression of resignation, the pain still etched across his features.


    Crouching down, Michael grabbed the man''s bloodied chin and lifted it, meeting his gaze.


    "Gotcha, you fiend," Michael said, a triumphant smile spreading across his face.


    Isper''s memories of his childhood were faint, like wisps of smoke. He vaguely remembered his tribe living in one of the most barren deserts of the Pamir Plateau¡ªa land infamous for its harshness.


    One particular memory stood out: a young woman''s voice, warning him not to wander outside during sandstorms lest the sand spirits take him. Perhaps she had been his mother. The warmth and comfort in that voice remained vivid even now.


    His recollections ended with a blurred image of being snatched away on horseback and carried across the desert. He assumed he had been abducted by a visitor to his tribe and sold into slavery. After all, it wasn''t uncommon for wanderers rescued by nomads to repay their saviors with betrayal.


    Sometimes, he wondered about his roots and if he could ever return to them, but the thought was futile.


    Training to become an assassin had been grueling. The Moon Shadows'' hidden base was tucked away in a corner of the desert, its environment as unforgiving as its teachings.


    The other trainees, all around his age, began training at dawn to avoid the midday heat. Yet even at dawn, the sun''s wrath was merciless.


    The first lessons were in patience and ruthlessness. Meals were sparse¡ªdried fruit, grains, and a small ration of water tossed to them by the instructors. Isper had learned to cherish every drop of water, but eventually, like the others, he was forced to steal and fight for sustenance.


    His resilience caught the attention of his master, who chose him to learn Shadow Concealment.


    After surviving the brutal training and rising to become the Moon Shadows'' top assassin, Isper''s master had once told him:


    "Isper, you''re excellent, but you think too much. Assassins shouldn''t overthink things."


    That was the last piece of advice his master gave before disappearing. Left alone, Isper carried the weight of his thoughts¡ªand his blade.


    The splash of cold water on his face jolted him back to reality. What had happened?


    Oh, right. He''d been ambushed while trying to strike his target. The memory of that horrific shriek was still fresh, as was the excruciating pain that had followed.


    He probed his tongue against his molars, only to find that the poison capsule he had hidden there was gone. Suicide by poison was no longer an option. Biting his tongue wouldn''t kill him either; even if it bled profusely, it wouldn''t be enough to end his life.


    He resigned himself to the inevitable torture. But to his surprise, no such torment came.


    Instead, his gaze met that of a strikingly handsome man with long blond hair. Isper felt as if his soul had been pierced.


    "Ah, hypnosis," he thought, recognizing the technique immediately.


    "Stop!" he shouted, squeezing his eyes shut with all his willpower. "I''ll tell you whatever you want. Just stop the hypnosis. I want to preserve my honor as the top assassin of the Moon Shadows."

 Chapter 69 - 69 A Gut Feeling

    Carl, who had once known a former Moon Shadow, observed Isper with a neutral expression. "Do you swear upon the Dark Side of the Moon?"


    Isper flinched briefly but then lowered his head in resignation. "I, Isper, swear upon the Dark Side of the Moon."


    At Michael''s nod, Leonardo retracted his glowing red gaze.


    "Your name is Isper, then? State your personal details, your group, and the mission you were assigned," Michael commanded.


    Eyes still closed, Isper began to speak.


    "Yes, my name is Isper. I do not know my family name or my exact age. I was sold to the Moon Shadows as a child and suspect I am from a nomadic desert tribe. I currently serve as the top assassin of the Moon Shadows. Above me is only the Master, who handles finances and contracts. Functionally, he is the strongest member of the Moon Shadows.


    "My mission was to kill the heir of House Crassus and eliminate all evidence. The original contract came through another assassin guild, requesting the eradication of the entire Crassus family en route to the capital. Two guild members were sent initially but failed. That''s when I, the strongest of the Moon Shadows, was dispatched. If I fail and die, the mission will be considered a lost cause, and no further attempts will be made.


    "I''ve told you everything. Spare me the humiliation and kill me now."


    What Isper said largely aligned with what Michael already knew.


    Michael studied Isper with a pensive expression. There was one crucial question that needed answering.


    "During your assignments, have you ever killed innocent bystanders or committed crimes such as murder, robbery, or rape unrelated to your missions?"


    Isper looked up, perplexed. "Why ask such a thing? I am not a sadistic killer. I never wanted to become an assassin in the first place¡ªwhy would I commit such atrocities?"


    Satisfied, Michael nodded and handed Isper a cup containing an unknown liquid.


    "You have two choices: serve House Crassus for the rest of your life or die. The choice is yours."


    "Serve? What do you mean?"


    "Exactly what I said. Killing someone of your skill would be a waste. Instead, we''ll cleanse your identity and make you a shadow of House Crassus. You''ll serve as an asset to our family."


    Isper scoffed and accepted the cup. "Another shadow, huh? At least you''re giving me a choice. I decline. Perhaps in the next life, we''ll meet again."


    He drank the liquid in one gulp. As he stared into Michael''s eyes, he noticed something odd. Why did the young lord look at him with such pity? Was he mourning Isper''s life?


    "Resurrectionis electio!"


    When Isper awoke, he understood. That look of pity hadn''t been for his death¡ªit had been for what came next.


    This wasn''t the next life he had imagined.


    Leonardo clapped him on the shoulder. "Alright, let me explain the rules you''ll follow as a familiar of House Crassus."


    Damn this wretched life...


    As Isper was dragged away by Leonardo, his expression blank and hopeless, Michael couldn''t help but feel some sympathy. S~ea??h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    If Isper had chosen to serve in life, his debt would have been paid within a century at most. But by choosing death, he had sentenced himself to eternal servitude.


    Still, there was no need for excessive pity. No matter the circumstances, Isper had killed dozens of innocents as part of his missions.


    Michael felt a grim sense of satisfaction. With Leonardo''s customization and training, Isper would become an invaluable close-range bodyguard for House Crassus.


    The remainder of the journey was uneventful.


    After two months of travel, the group finally arrived in the capital. Days of riding horses and sitting in carriages had taken their toll, even with Leonardo''s efforts to make the carriage as comfortable as possible.


    Stretching his stiff body, Michael looked around the inn they had reserved. The inn was situated in the southern part of the capital, not far from the royal palace and bustling markets. Its structure, a mix of stone and wood, exuded an air of history and tradition.


    A large sign reading "Royal Certification" hung over the entrance, signifying that this establishment catered primarily to the nobility. One of their guards had been sent ahead to book the entire inn for their party.


    Each of the key retainers was assigned a private room, while the soldiers shared rooms in groups of five.


    Michael inspected his quarters first. Though small, the room was clean and orderly. A neatly made bed with linen sheets, a small wooden table, and a wall-mounted candleholder filled the space. Opening the window, he let in a refreshing breeze, a testament to the innkeeper''s care for the premises. A basin and water jug were set up in one corner for washing.


    The innkeeper assured them that hot bathwater would be prepared soon for each room, while the soldiers eagerly ran outside to use the communal baths. Though basic and requiring water to be refilled after each use, it was a luxury compared to nothing.


    Thanks to his noble status, Michael had the privilege of having hot water delivered to his room. Sinking into a wooden tub filled with steaming water, he let out a sigh of relief, finally shedding the weariness of the long journey. After weeks of camping, a proper bath felt like a gift from the heavens. The warm water eased his tense muscles, granting him a rare moment of peace.


    After his bath, Michael descended to the inn''s dining hall on the first floor.


    The hall, furnished with wooden tables and benches, was simple but cozy, with a fireplace radiating warmth. The meal was modest yet satisfying: freshly baked bread with butter, cheese, ham, and even fresh fruit. The innkeeper went a step further, offering Michael and his party an egg dish and warm tea. For a standard inn meal, it was surprisingly delightful.


    As expected of an inn frequented by nobles and knights, provisions for their magical beasts had not been overlooked. Miaomiao shared Michael''s table, feasting on thick cuts of grilled beef.


    After the meal, Michael greeted his companions briefly before retiring to his room, where he fell into a deep, well-earned sleep.

 Chapter 70 - 70 The Subtle Tremors Of An Impending War

    The following day, Marcus remained in his temporary nest, too tired to stir. Considering the upcoming royal banquet, where the dragon planned to make a grand debut, it was just as well for him to remain unseen for now.


    Only Miaomiao, who looked like nothing more than a small black kitten, perched on Michael''s shoulder as they ventured out. The party members who had never been to the capital joined him, eager to explore.


    Once outside, Michael separated from the group, moving independently. Following behind him like a silent shadow was Isper, now a loyal familiar of House Crassus. Unlike Leonardo, Isper retained his original appearance, as his work as an assassin required him to remain as inconspicuous as possible.


    While the others wandered off, laughing and shopping for trinkets, Michael headed for a specific destination.


    The inn was located near a vibrant market district, with shops lining the streets and bustling crowds. The streets radiated out from a wide main road, with narrow alleys branching off like veins. Being so close to the palace, the area was clean and orderly.


    The market stalls were packed tightly together, displaying an array of goods to tempt passersby. Merchants set up colorful canopies over their stalls, their voices ringing out to attract customers.


    "Fresh bread! Hot out of the oven!"


    "Soft, warm wool at the best price!"


    "Top-quality iron tools right here!"


    Elsewhere, stalls overflowed with fresh fruits and vegetables: rosy apples, plump pears, and crisp greens neatly arranged to showcase their freshness. The fruit vendor cheerfully handed out samples to potential buyers. S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The thriving commerce caught Michael''s attention. As someone about to develop new lands, he noted the bustling activity with interest.


    His destination, however, was an herb shop where he planned to sell the mandrakes they had collected. Most of his party members had agreed to convert the mandrakes into cash, except for Hope and Leonardo, who wanted to use a portion for experimentation. Michael had taken charge of the transaction.


    Having inquired about the most reputable and fair herb shop in the area from the innkeeper beforehand, he quickly found his way there.


    Outside the shop, exotic spices in small pouches and bottles emitted a strong aroma, undoubtedly meant to entice customers. Inside, herbalists sorted various plants and concocted medicines, explaining the unique benefits of their products to curious patrons.


    Michael entered, and the shopkeeper immediately hurried out to greet him upon hearing he had mandrakes to sell.


    "Oh, welcome, welcome! Such a rare treasure! You have no idea how difficult it''s been to acquire longevity herbs like mandrakes these days. It''s not just mandrakes, either¡ªeverything from the Drago Mountains is scarce right now. If you have more to sell, I''ll gladly take it off your hands," the shopkeeper said eagerly.


    Michael''s instincts tingled at the comment. Mandrakes were always valuable, but the shortage of all goods from the Drago Mountains was concerning.


    Feigning casual interest, Michael replied, "Is that so? I could sell more if needed. What items are particularly in short supply?"


    The shopkeeper, wary yet intrigued, darted a glance at Michael. He seemed unsure whether Michael''s claim was true but answered nonetheless.


    "Beast hides and byproducts are valuable, but items requiring freshness¡ªherbs, magical beast meat, and blood¡ªare especially scarce. Even the mage towers are scrambling for supplies."


    Michael watched the shopkeeper closely as he continued, "The mage towers are in desperate need of these items, are they?"


    The shopkeeper lowered his voice, glancing around before speaking. "Well, you know how mages are. Always conducting strange experiments. High-grade magical beast blood and materials? They''ll pay a fortune for those¡ªespecially if they''re fresh. Living specimens? Even better. By any chance¡­"


    "I don''t have anything on hand right now," Michael interrupted smoothly. "But I could look into acquiring some. Now, about the mandrakes¡ªwhat price are you offering?"


    The shopkeeper named a generous price, which Michael accepted. As he finalized the sale, he discreetly surveyed the shop. While most shelves were stocked with herbs, he noticed several conspicuously empty spaces.


    After leaving the shop, Michael strolled through the market, lost in thought. The streets were lively, but as he looked more closely, he noticed several closed shops scattered among the open ones.


    Something feels off, he thought.


    This wasn''t just a supply shortage. To Michael, it felt like the subtle tremors of an impending war.


    Upon returning to the inn, Michael requested a private meeting with his father, Dominic, and Baron Kensington. The three gathered in Dominic''s room, the largest in the inn, making it well-suited for discussions.


    After hearing Michael''s observations, Dominic let out a deep sigh, the lines on his forehead furrowing with concern.


    "You may be right. It''s hardly a secret that the herbalists in the Drago Mountains are actually soldiers assigned to the Pamir Plateau. But for the supply of herbs and magical beast byproducts to dwindle so drastically¡­ the situation doesn''t look good."


    Baron Kensington nodded gravely, his expression equally serious. His eyes reflected the cautious vigilance borne of years of experience.


    "Indeed," the baron agreed. "If it''s not the threat of war, then it must mean high-grade magical beasts are causing havoc."


    Michael quickly dismissed the idea.


    "If it were a magical beast, Miaomiao and Marcus would have sensed something when we entered the mountains. No, this is either preparation for war or efforts to shore up defenses against an invasion."


    As Kensington nodded thoughtfully, Dominic added his own perspective. Though the baron and Michael were now close enough to address each other as brothers, Dominic''s voice carried the weight of his authority.


    "Our kingdom certainly wouldn''t be the one instigating a war. Frankly, we lack the strength, and we''re not foolish enough to provoke a fight. It seems likely that the Pamir Empire is up to something."


    Baron Kensington chimed in, his voice laced with concern.


    "With the emperor growing older, he may wish to secure a final achievement. And considering the rumors of the crown prince''s debauchery, there are likely other sons eager to build military reputations for themselves."

 Chapter 71 - 71 Lobbying For The Estate

    Dominic sighed deeply. "It won''t be easy. Michael, when do you think the war might break out?"


    Michael, who had been listening intently, shared his thoughts.


    "Most likely after the spring planting season, as we approach summer. If the Pamir Empire makes a move, their target will almost certainly be the kingdom''s grain supplies."


    Baron Kensington nodded in agreement.


    "Exactly. As always, they''ll claim the northern territories and the Drago Mountains as their rightful land, but their true goal will be the grain depots. Parasites, the lot of them."


    Dominic nodded solemnly. "Then we don''t need to panic just yet. However, we must conclude the negotiations and investiture ceremony as quickly as possible and return to secure the estate. If we face a war with our lands in disarray, we''ll be in serious trouble."


    Michael added, "I''ll do my best to use our connections to rally support. As for the presentation of Miaomiao and Marcus, we should follow our original plan. We''ll first showcase the Rainbow Plus foals to build intrigue before introducing them. That will maximize their impact¡ªand help Brother Vincent sell more horses."


    "Haha, that sounds like a plan," Kensington said with a grin. "Once the audience is captivated, we''ll draw them in. That should make the nobles more willing to cooperate. And I''ll make some sales while I''m at it!"


    "Good," Michael replied. "Father, we can use their unveiling to win over potential allies for the estate''s defense. Please spare no expense in making the banquet as grand as possible¡ªeven if it means dipping into the war reserve funds."


    Dominic nodded in agreement. "That makes sense. I''ve already submitted the request for an audience with the king, and we should receive word by the end of the day. We can host the banquet immediately after the audience."


    They planned to leverage the presence of Miaomiao and Marcus to attract influential figures in the capital. Baron Kensington used his extensive network to send invitations, emphasizing the unveiling of rare and extraordinary beasts at the upcoming court banquet.


    As a respected expert in magical beast breeding and a prominent member of the beast enthusiasts'' society, Kensington knew he could stir interest.


    Dominic, meanwhile, reached out to every contact he had, including some who had distanced themselves after Lincoln''s death. Even his estranged in-laws were willing to lend support, given their connection to Michael''s younger sister, Elizabeth. The twins'' maternal family also sent financial assistance, agreeing to import food supplies until the new frontier estate could achieve stable crop production.


    The contracts were finalized smoothly, as both parties stood to benefit.


    The Crassus family''s new estate had attracted a host of hopeful candidates eager to fill the soon-to-be-vacant barony. Nobles from the northeastern frontier and other regions of the capital eyed the opportunity, driven by the promise of fertile lands.


    Since the introduction of primogeniture, many second sons had no choice but to seek military or clerical careers. But the declining influence of the Radiant Church made the army the preferred option. The limited availability of land and the reluctance of parents to send their children to the war-torn borders meant competition was fierce, with most candidates falling into the same middling category.


    While the eldest inherited everything, parents still cared for their younger children. With the king issuing only a vague edict about the Crassus estate''s relocation, it was clear that the family could exercise some discretion in the matter. As a result, Dominic found himself inundated with petitions.


    Michael, curious about the king''s temperament, asked his father what kind of ruler Charles V was.


    Dominic took a moment to think before answering carefully. sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "King Charles V is¡­ a multifaceted man. He treasures the queen and is kind to his children, but he has a reputation for being ruthless. When he first ascended the throne at a young age, he allowed territorial disputes among the nobles to play out, earning a reputation as a puppet. However, those who expanded their influence during that time were ultimately undone by their own greed. The king acted during their moment of weakness, consolidating power. Today, the crown is stronger than ever. Does that answer your question?"


    Michael nodded. A king of such cunning and strength might see the relocation of the Crassus estate as an opportunity to further weaken the nobility. It seemed unlikely that the northeastern aristocracy would be granted the land outright; it might even be divided.


    The northwestern lords were especially active in lobbying for the estate, resentful that the northeastern territories enjoyed more fertile lands despite sharing the burden of defending the northern borders.


    Their frustration was understandable. While the Drago Mountains posed a potential threat with magical beasts, the nomadic tribes of the Pamir Plateau presented a more immediate danger, disrupting production with frequent skirmishes.


    Dominic''s quarters were bustling with visitors, each vying for his favor.


    The most vocal group in the capital was undoubtedly the nobles of the Northwestern Province, who were fiercely competing for control of the Crassus Barony. Their wealth was displayed openly, enough to provide extravagant tributes to secure an audience with the king.


    Dominic, aware that such tributes were tacitly approved by the crown, saw no reason to refuse these unexpected gains. Amid the influx of gifts, the royal messenger finally delivered the king''s summons.


    The messenger handed Dominic an official document, announcing the royal decree.


    "His Majesty has granted you an audience. You are to arrive at the palace gates before dawn tomorrow. The investiture ceremony will take place during the audience, so both Baron Crassus and his heir must attend in full ceremonial attire. Due to the palace''s current state of activity, accompanying retinues will be limited to five individuals each."


    Michael and Dominic promptly began their preparations. They donned formal surcoats embroidered with the Crassus family crest in golden thread, layered with cloaks lined with black sable fur. Shoulder epaulets, ceremonial hats, and polished boots completed their attire.


    After the final adjustments by tailors hired in the capital, they radiated the dignity and authority befitting their station.

 Chapter 72 - 72 Impending War With The Pamir Empire

    The next morning, Michael and Dominic, accompanied by their chosen attendants, made their way to the palace.


    At the gates, royal guards greeted them and verified their audience permits before escorting them inside.


    The palace''s grandeur was awe-inspiring, with its expansive halls and high ceilings. Striking a balance between elegance and restraint, it was neither overly ostentatious nor underwhelming.


    The group was led to a waiting room, where Michael and Dominic steadied their nerves. They weren''t the only ones summoned¡ªseveral other nobles waited nearby, all observing decorum as they anticipated their turns.


    Finally, their names were called.


    Led by a royal steward, they stood before the enormous bronze doors of the audience chamber. As the doors opened, a brilliant chandelier hanging from the high ceiling greeted them with its dazzling light. Behind the throne hung an ornate tapestry, showcasing the kingdom''s heraldry.


    Michael and Dominic approached the king, stopping at the designated spot where they knelt, bowing their heads respectfully.


    "It is an honor to meet Your Majesty," Dominic began. "We humbly present a modest gift gathered from the Drago Mountains."


    A servant carried the carefully wrapped mandrakes forward. The king, holding up a hand, waved off further formalities.


    "A rare treasure indeed," he remarked. "Please rise. Such excessive courtesy is unnecessary. I''ve heard of the Crassus family''s remarkable achievements. I also heard that you were ambushed by assassins on your journey. How fares your health?"


    Dominic replied humbly, "I am grateful for Your Majesty''s concern. My father sustained significant injuries and required a week of recovery at a vassal''s estate. However, the assassins were all eliminated. Their confessions revealed that this was a personal matter instigated by Orion, a priest''s mistress in Radiant Sanctum, grieving over the loss of her son."


    "Hm," the king mused. "If that''s the case, there''s no formal grounds for a diplomatic protest. Nonetheless, you''ve suffered in service to the kingdom, and I will ensure my gratitude is conveyed appropriately. After all, your efforts have spared us from paying tithes. Now, tell me¡ªdo you harbor any grievances over the relocation of your lands?"


    Dominic hesitated briefly, knowing that voicing complaints would achieve nothing.


    "Not at all, Your Majesty," he replied carefully. "It is an honor to elevate our station with a larger territory. However, the challenges of frontier development are undeniable, and any support you could provide would be deeply appreciated."


    The king chuckled. "Good to hear. Support, you say? With the treasury strained from successive droughts, substantial aid is unfeasible. However, I shall grant you a privilege. Bring it here!"


    At the king''s command, a royal steward approached carrying an ornate box. Inside was a rolled parchment, which was promptly unfurled before Michael and Dominic.


    The two men gasped as they studied its contents¡ªa highly detailed map of the Drago Mountains and the surrounding northeastern and northwestern provinces. Marked upon it were significant resources, including some rare deposits.


    "Surprised? Don''t be," the king said. "As you''ve no doubt sensed, the Pamir Empire''s movements are growing bolder. This map, acquired through¡­ fortunate circumstances, is vital for the kingdom''s defense. I''m not a tyrant, after all. You may choose your preferred land from these locations. Furthermore, I grant you a ten-year exemption from taxes. Should war break out and you distinguish yourself, you will also have rights to war spoils and the recruitment of serfs."


    Michael and Dominic exchanged glances, silently acknowledging that the offer was more than fair. While the risks of defending the frontier were significant, the rewards made it worthwhile.


    "Your Majesty," Dominic ventured cautiously, "this humble servant requires a moment to deliberate. May we have some time to consider?"


    "Of course," the king replied generously. "Take your time. My steward will guide you to a side chamber."


    They were led to a well-lit room furnished with a large table. Once inside, father and son spread the map out and began their discussion.


    Several key locations immediately stood out, marked for their fertile soil, mineral wealth, or potential as transportation hubs. While the most desirable territories had already been claimed, the remaining options were still impressive.


    Being granted the ability to choose their land was an extraordinary privilege. However, Michael understood that it was also a double-edged sword. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The northwestern provinces had endured successive invasions with relative resilience, largely due to the indirect support of other regions. No one wanted to face the aggressive Pamir Empire alone, so the surrounding provinces and even neighboring kingdoms occasionally extended aid to prevent the empire''s expansion.


    Michael scanned the map, deliberately excluding the most fertile lands. What I desire, others will covet as well, he thought. His finger eventually landed on a basin located where the northeastern and northwestern provinces met, nestled deep within the mountain range.


    The basin, surrounded by mountains, was a natural fortress. While its soil wasn''t exceptionally fertile, it promised sufficient agricultural yields for self-sufficiency. Additionally, the area contained an iron mine.


    Dominic''s expression tightened as he saw Michael''s choice.


    "Michael," he cautioned, "think carefully. That mine may be rich in ore, but extracting it is an entirely different challenge. The North lacks quality coal for smelting, and what little exists is of poor quality. Transporting charcoal from other regions would cost a fortune, leaving little profit. The iron from this mine might barely be enough for farming tools. Why not choose one of the more fertile regions instead?"


    Michael smiled, offering a subtle reminder.


    "Father, don''t forget¡ªwe have Marcus. Dragons are exceptional at detecting resources and excel at development. Think about how they locate their lairs."


    Dominic''s face lit up in realization. Aha! How did I not consider that?


    While the Drago Mountains promised untapped resources, their development had always been too challenging. But with Marcus, the prospect seemed far more attainable. Dominic''s expression brightened, his earlier concerns easing.


    After deliberating on their choice of land, Dominic and Michael once again requested an audience with King Charles V. The king, wearing a benevolent expression, welcomed them back.


    "So, have you reached a decision?" he asked, glancing at the map presented before him. A spark of intrigue lit up his eyes. "Hmm, an interesting choice. Are you confident you won''t regret it?"

 Chapter 73 - 73 Truly Magnificent

    Michael stepped forward, his face serious and resolute.


    "Yes, Your Majesty. Though my understanding of such matters is limited, I firmly believe this territory is the most suitable for our family."


    The king''s smile widened in satisfaction. Raising his voice, he issued his decree with enthusiasm.


    "Very well, then! Hear this, all present: I hereby elevate Baron Crassus to the rank of Viscount and proclaim the territory of Iron Valley as the Crassus Viscounty. Furthermore, the viscounty is granted a ten-year exemption from taxes, along with rights to spoils of war and the acquisition of serfs during times of conflict. To aid in the development of the land, I bestow upon them 50,000 gold coins. Lastly, I formally recognize Michael von Crassus as the lawful heir to the Viscountcy. This proclamation, under my command, Charles V, takes effect immediately."


    Now officially Viscount Crassus, Dominic, along with his newly recognized heir, Michael, knelt and pledged their loyalty.


    "We vow eternal allegiance to Your Majesty and the kingdom."


    The king, raising his hand in acknowledgment, declared, "Rise. I trust in your unwavering loyalty."


    After a brief moment, Dominic, carefully watching the king''s demeanor, made a polite request.


    "Your Majesty, to share this joy and express our gratitude for your boundless generosity, we wish to host a banquet. May we humbly request permission to use the Emerald Hall of the palace for this purpose?"


    The king appeared to deliberate briefly before granting his approval.


    "The halls of the palace are not easily lent. However, I recognize your loyalty and shall make an exception. I will attend the banquet myself."


    Though the request and approval were largely procedural, as the hall had already been reserved and paid for, Dominic bowed deeply, his face alight with gratitude.


    "Your Majesty''s grace knows no bounds. We shall ensure it is a banquet worthy of your presence."


    "Very well. You may go now," the king said with a dismissive wave.


    With the territory secured, a generous development fund granted, and the king''s commitment to attend the banquet, the Crassus family had achieved all they had hoped for. Father and son respectfully took their leave.


    The royal steward led them to the Emerald Hall, where preparations for the banquet were already underway.


    The Banquet Preparations


    A banquet was an essential element of noble life, serving as a platform to celebrate, network, and display power and resources. It was an opportunity to showcase everything from fine goods to rare magical beasts. Observing a family''s banquet could often reveal much about their status and aspirations.


    Dominic spared no expense in preparing for the event. With the resources granted for the development of their new territory, he sought to solidify the family''s reputation and secure alliances.


    Leonardo, ever the inventive artisan, had spent the journey crafting hundreds of magical lamps. These were not only to illuminate the banquet but also to serve as items for sale. The lamps, fitted with magical candles, could withstand wind, relight themselves if extinguished, and came in beautifully decorated glass housings that emitted colorful light.


    In addition to the lamps, Leonardo had created special enchanted serving trays. These trays kept food warm, and with a spoken command, prearranged dishes could appear atop them. While the trays didn''t actually cook food, they allowed the efficient transport of meals over short distances. Though their range was limited to about seven meters, the novelty alone was enough to captivate the capital''s luxury-obsessed nobility.


    The banquet''s highlight, however, was the planned appearance of the Sphinx Miaomiao and the dragon Marcus.


    Kensington had arrived early, grooming the Rainbow Plus foals he planned to showcase before the magical beasts made their grand entrance. Targeting the noblewomen in attendance, he aimed to secure a few sales by the end of the evening.


    Meanwhile, Miaomiao and Marcus were undergoing final preparations.


    Miaomiao had transformed into a strikingly majestic form, resembling a winged jaguar about three meters in length. Her black fur shimmered with an iridescent blue hue, while her wings, tipped with a mix of blue and gold, were adorned with sparkling gemstones. A thick platinum pendant around her neck added an air of elegance and authority.


    Marcus, now fully healed from his injuries, had grown to a similar size. Though his red scales bore faint scars, they only added to his fearsome appearance. Gold chains draped between his scales enhanced his dazzling presence, a testament to Marcus''s flamboyant taste. Around his neck hung a large gold pendant, and jeweled caps adorned his claws.


    The banquet hall itself was resplendent. Leonardo''s magical lamps, hung alongside the grand chandeliers, bathed the space in radiant light. The central table, reserved for the king, queen, and other distinguished guests, was set with exquisite detail. Below it, circular tables awaited the other attendees.


    The red carpet, a concept devised by Michael, stretched across the center of the hall, ready to welcome the magical beasts. Decorated with tapestries, banners, and the Crassus family crest, the hall exuded grandeur.


    The banquet''s centerpiece was, of course, the food. Dominic had hired the capital''s most renowned chefs, who prepared a lavish array of dishes. Fresh ingredients ensured that every plate¡ªfrom meats roasted with fragrant herbs to freshly baked breads and cheeses¡ªwas of the highest quality.


    Wine and spirits, sourced from all corners of the kingdom, included honey mead, beers, and a special sangria infused with fresh fruits, a rare treat Michael suggested to intrigue the noblewomen.


    Musicians and jesters completed the ambiance, their melodies blending harp, viola, and violin harmonies as they readied for their performance. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The first guests began arriving, their attire as dazzling as the banquet hall itself. Dominic introduced Michael to each noble, ensuring his son had the opportunity to network and build alliances.


    Finally, the grand arrival of the king and queen marked the start of the evening''s most anticipated events.


    The king entered the hall adorned in a regal cape, while the queen graced the gathering in a velvet gown, her hair veiled in a golden net encrusted with pearls. Following closely were the crown prince and the kingdom''s only princess.

 Chapter 74 - 74 Banquet

    The crown prince, bearing a striking resemblance to the king, was a sharp featured young man with a prominent aquiline nose and a mischievous glint in his eyes. The princess, on the other hand, was a vision of beauty, often hailed as the kingdom''s greatest jewel.


    As the royal family made their entrance, a fanfare of trumpets resounded through the hall, prompting all guests to rise and pay their respects to the royalties.


    Dominic and Michael approached the royal family, bowing deeply before the king and queen, then exchanging polite introductions with the prince and princess.


    Once the greetings concluded and everyone had taken their seats, the highlight of the evening finally began.


    Kensington Baron, with a flourish, presented his impeccably groomed Rainbow Plus foals. A chorus of gasps and exclamations erupted from the gathered ladies, enchanted by the creatures'' beauty.


    Following Michael''s advice, Kensington first gifted one of the foals to the princess. The princess, charmed by the creature, named it "Lola" and affectionately stroked its forehead. The simple act won over every noblewoman in attendance, shifting their focus entirely onto the foals.


    Feeling triumphant, Kensington privately reveled in his newfound success. Finally, the perfect market had been found.


    The event''s crescendo followed shortly after, with the grand entrance of the sphinx, Miaomiao, and the dragon, Marcus, set to a specially commissioned march. For this formal occasion, Miaomiao''s full name was used.


    An entertainer, hired at great expense, announced their arrival with flair.


    "Behold! The pride of this evening''s host, Sir Michael von Crassus! His companions are none other than Neferetari Hatshepsut, the Sphinx of legends, and Marcus Plenysos, a descendant of the mighty dragon lineage!"


    The hall buzzed with excitement as murmurs rose among the crowd. Some guests even stood, unable to contain their amazement.


    With poise and dignity, Miaomiao and Marcus walked down the red carpet, taking their places beside Michael. Their regal demeanor left an indelible impression on all present.


    The crown prince, unable to resist his curiosity, approached with wide-eyed wonder.


    "Sir Michael! Are these magical beasts truly bound to you? How in the world did you manage it?"


    Miaomiao answered coolly before Michael could respond, her voice resonating with authority, devoid of her usual playful tone.


    [Your Highness, we divine beings do not serve anyone. I chose to befriend Michael and stand by his side. Marcus, on the other hand, has his own unique arrangement.]


    Caught off guard, Marcus hastily chimed in, nudged by Miaomiao''s sharp glance.


    [I have entered a contract with Michael, not subjugation, human.]


    Had anyone else addressed the crown prince so bluntly, it might have caused a scandal. However, Marcus''s status as a dragon granted him leeway.


    The prince, far from offended, laughed heartily and extended his hand to both beasts.


    "Then we can become friends, too! It''s a pleasure to meet you both. I am Crown Prince Randolph."


    The prince''s easygoing demeanor encouraged others to approach as well. Soon, Miaomiao and Marcus found themselves surrounded by eager nobles, all vying for their attention.


    Overwhelmed by the onslaught of questions, Miaomiao let out a sharp hiss, scattering the crowd. Still, many lingered nearby, unable to suppress their curiosity.


    The spotlight inevitably shifted to Michael, with nobles flocking to him for stories and insights.


    "Sir Michael! What an incredible feat¡ªhow did you come across a sphinx? I''ve only ever heard of them in legends. My heart''s still racing!"


    "Count Barkus, hold your horses! I was speaking with Sir Michael first. Sir Michael, I''d love to hear about your dragon¡ª"


    The lively debate over who would get Michael''s attention first was a clear sign of the evening''s success.


    The banquet exceeded expectations. The food was exquisite, the enchanted serving trays Leonardo crafted became an instant sensation, and the magical lamps earned widespread acclaim.


    Every time a guest uttered the activation phrase, food seamlessly appeared on the trays, eliciting gasps of amazement. The lamps'' soft, colorful glow added to the enchanting atmosphere.


    Lawrence, the Crassus family treasurer, diligently took orders for the new items, cheerfully directing interested buyers to the inn for contract discussions.


    Guests continued stealing glances at Marcus and Miaomiao while enjoying performances by jesters and magicians.


    As the night progressed, Michael seized an opportunity to showcase the abilities of his two companions.


    Miaomiao launched herself into the air, performing an elegant flip before instantly transforming into her kitten form and perching on Michael''s shoulder. The ladies in the audience erupted into delighted screams. Even the princess blushed with excitement.


    Marcus, embodying his draconic heritage, delivered a breathtaking fire display. A stream of intense flames shot skyward, morphing into a fiery phoenix that soared through an open window and disappeared into the night.


    The crowd gawked in awe, unaware that Leonardo had orchestrated the latter part of the display.


    Miaomiao, now settled on Michael''s shoulder, nonchalantly licked her paw, her tail puffed up in irritation.


    "Not enjoying yourself, Miaomiao?" Michael asked, stroking her head apologetically.


    [I''m fine. A poor household can''t help but resort to these measures.] sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael chuckled awkwardly at her jab, continuing to gently soothe her.


    As he did, the princess, her cheeks still flushed, cautiously approached.


    "Sir Michael... if it''s not too forward of me, may I pet your sphinx?"


    Michael glanced at Miaomiao, gauging her mood. To his relief, she showed no signs of irritation, even appearing slightly intrigued by the princess.


    [You''re beautiful, so I''ll allow it. But only if you offer me a strand of your golden hair.]


    Smiling, the princess signaled to a maid, who promptly returned with a small jewelry box containing previously trimmed strands of her hair. Handing it over, she gently cradled Miaomiao, stroking her soft fur.


    "Oh, so soft... truly magnificent. Neferetari, may I call you that?"


    Miaomiao, curling herself into the princess''s arms, purred contentedly.


    [Very well, you''re a princess and quite lovely. I''ll allow it.]


    Michael, observing this exchange, was left speechless. So dignified until now! The bias toward appearances is simply outrageous.


    ...


    AN: There will be a mass mass release next week.

 Chapter 75 - 75 Astrid

    Now elevated to the rank of Viscount, Dominic maneuvered effortlessly through the capital''s elite circles, forging valuable connections with influential nobles. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Amidst his efforts, he spotted his son, Michael, engaged in animated conversation with Princess Astrid. Whatever Michael said must have been amusing, for the princess''s radiant laughter lit up the space around her.


    A satisfied smile spread across Dominic''s face as he observed the scene. Perhaps, just perhaps, Astrid might one day become Michael''s lady. Even if romance or marriage between the two wasn''t a realistic possibility, having the princess as a close ally could yield immense political and social advantages. The support and goodwill of the kingdom''s sole princess would be a treasure beyond measure.


    Unaware of his father''s thoughts, Michael was sincerely enjoying his conversation with the princess, entirely free of ulterior motives. Stay tuned to My Virtual Library Empire


    "I never imagined a sphinx could be so captivating," Astrid remarked, her voice tinged with wonder. "I always thought of them as creatures of legend¡ªreal but entirely out of reach for someone ordinary like me."


    Smiling warmly, Michael replied, "Ordinary? Your Highness, you''re anything but. Just look at Neferetari¡ªshe''s comfortably curled up in your arms, enchanted by your beauty."


    At that moment, Miaomiao, ever opportunistic, nestled closer into the princess''s embrace, rubbing her head affectionately against her arm. Helping Michael score points is a small price to pay for being pampered by royalty, Miaomiao seemed to think.


    Unused to such interactions with young men, Astrid''s cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink. As the precious only daughter of the king and queen, she had grown up protected and sheltered, leaving her unprepared for Michael''s easy charm. She lowered her head slightly, focusing on stroking Miaomiao to hide her flustered expression.


    "Such high praise," she murmured. "But truly, it''s my mother who''s the renowned beauty."


    The queen, once the daughter of a count, had captivated the king with her intelligence and unmatched elegance, becoming a formidable presence in the royal court. Yet Astrid, unlike her assertive and commanding mother, seemed gentle and reserved. Of course, one could never tell what storms might lie hidden beneath her calm exterior.


    Michael continued, his gaze steady on the princess. "Your Highness, I find you far more captivating. You should have more confidence in yourself."


    Miaomiao gave Michael an approving look as if to say, Finally, you''re learning how to play the game.


    Astrid, clearly unused to such compliments, fanned herself with a dainty folding fan, her cheeks flushing an even deeper red.


    "You may call me Astrid, Sir Michael. That is, if addressing you as ''Sir Michael'' isn''t too forward?"


    Her words startled Michael, but a hint of joy crept into his expression. Excellent! We''re becoming more familiar, he thought.


    "It''s an honor, Princess Astrid," he replied, his tone sincere and respectful.


    Astrid felt a warmth spreading through her chest. Life within the rigid confines of the royal court had often left her feeling stifled, unable to express her true self. But conversing with Michael was like stepping into fresh, open air.


    Her eyes sparkled, reflecting the dreams and aspirations she had long kept hidden. "Then I shall call you Sir Michael without hesitation. It''s been a delight talking with you."


    Michael, recalling advice from a once prolific friend skilled in navigating social dynamics, maintained eye contact and responded gently. His previous life hadn''t exactly afforded him many close female friendships, but he assumed the same principles applied in this world. Judging by Astrid''s animated expressions, it seemed he was making progress.


    "The pleasure is mine, Astrid," he said. "Having this opportunity to speak with you is a privilege I deeply cherish."


    To any observer, the princess appeared like a young girl experiencing her first brush with love¡ªthough Michael, utterly oblivious to the effect he was having, remained unaware.


    His lack of perception stemmed from a lifetime of underestimating his own appearance. In his former life, he had been an average reserved man in his thirties. Before that, Michael had been a withdrawn 17 year old with little confidence.


    However, to Astrid, Michael was the epitome of a hero tall at over 190 cm, angelically handsome, with striking crimson eyes, and a demeanor that radiated both grace and strength. Unlike the impulsive boys her age, Michael''s composed and thoughtful manner was irresistibly charming.


    As Michael''s conversation with the princess carried on, nobles milling around them shifted their attention to Dominic instead, flocking to the viscount in hopes of gaining favor.


    Meanwhile, Michael remained focused solely on Astrid, oblivious to the flurry of activity around him.


    A growing number of young women had also set their sights on Michael, intrigued by his rising reputation as the "Godly Archer" and his unassuming yet captivating presence. For many noblewomen, marriage was as much about survival as romance, and Michael¡ªunmarried, accomplished, and destined to inherit both title and land¡ªwas a prime candidate.


    Yet Michael''s straightforward nature and disinterest in social games created an unyielding barrier, leaving most of his admirers frustrated. His continued attention to Astrid stemmed from a desire to make a favorable impression on the princess, hoping she might speak positively of his family to the king.


    While Michael''s demeanor seemed warm and affable, his every word and gesture toward the princess was carefully measured, aimed at cultivating goodwill and rapport.


    As the evening wore on, the dazzling lights, lively music, and clinking glasses created a festive atmosphere. But for Michael, his sole focus remained on building a connection with Astrid.


    Fortunately, the princess''s affection for Miaomiao and Marcus ensured their conversation flowed easily. The night unfolded in a haze of laughter, charm, and mutual admiration, leaving the guests in awe of Michael''s composure and skillful diplomacy.


    The next morning, the inn was abuzz with activity.


    A colorful array of visitors¡ªnobles, knights, robed elders with flowing white beards, and portly merchants bedecked in opulent attire¡ªcrowded the premises, eagerly awaiting an audience.


    Sensing a business opportunity, the innkeeper set up a makeshift stall outside, selling refreshments to the throngs of people.

 Chapter 76 - 76 High Priest

    "Weren''t we told we''d see the sphinx and dragon here? Why haven''t they appeared yet?" demanded an elderly man with a beard so long it nearly reached his waist.


    His complaint was quickly echoed by others.


    "Exactly! I''ve been here since dawn!"


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    "Dawn? Ha! I heard the story from my apprentice last night and came running immediately. It''s a pity I couldn''t catch them after the banquet."


    The innkeeper chuckled inwardly. After a night of drinking, isn''t it reasonable to expect people to need some rest?


    The crowd outside the inn grew more restless, but the innkeeper had no intention of intervening beyond his business interests. Whether their knees give out or not isn''t my concern; I''m here to sell snacks and drinks, he thought smugly.


    Inside the inn, Treasurer Laurence finally emerged from his room after a leisurely breakfast. It was fortunate that he had instructed the innkeeper to keep the doors firmly shut the previous night.


    The moment the doors opened, Laurence was greeted by a sea of people that spilled out into the street.


    "Ah! At last! Now, where are the dragon and sphinx? Show them to us, quickly!"


    Laurence, a veteran of countless negotiations and chaotic markets, wasn''t the least bit flustered. Instead, he unfurled a set of papers in his hand and shouted over the clamor.


    "Listen up! If you want to meet the dragon or sphinx, please queue here. If you''re here to purchase magical items showcased last night, queue over there. No pushing or shoving, or you''ll be escorted out immediately! Take a number and wait your turn¡ªwe''ll call you in numerical order."


    Michael''s idea of distributing numbered tickets quickly restored order. Though initially surprised, the crowd soon fell into line, each person taking a ticket and moving to the appropriate area.


    By the end of the distribution, there were 78 individuals eager to speak about the dragon and sphinx, 39 ready to purchase magical items, and 15 others seeking private investment discussions. Many sent their attendants to hold their places, the streets echoing with chants of numbers as the attendees memorized their spots.


    Laurence set up shop in a separate room to handle the merchants. After all, no noble or knight of standing would stoop to haggling with traders themselves.


    "Fifty magical lamps in exchange for 300 oxen, 50 pack horses, and 2,000 sheep? Based on current livestock market prices, that''s about 15,000 gold. It''s a bit of a loss for us, considering it''s a barter deal, but we''ll agree¡ªon the condition that you transport the livestock to our fiefdom, and we''ll hand over the lamps upon delivery. Deal?"


    "Ten magical trays for 100 gold ingots? That''s absurdly low. You''re offering only ten finger-sized ingots per tray? Do you know how much nobles are willing to splurge on luxury items like this? These trays are practically eternal, as long as the mana stones are replenished. The short transfer range doesn''t diminish their value. Double the offer, and we have a deal."


    Laurence concluded deal after deal, his grin widening with every agreement. Watching the coffers swell with gold and goods brought him unbridled joy.


    Meanwhile, Michael handled the knights and mages in a neighboring room.


    "So, you wish to converse with Neferetari, the sphinx? And you''re affiliated with¡­ the Royal Academy''s Mage Tower? Impressive. What''s your specialization? Fire magic, fifth tier, I see. However, Neferetari is quite selective about whom she meets. If you''re truly interested, you could gain an audience by investing in our fiefdom''s development or contributing to the frontier effort. Would that work for you?"


    "You want dragon''s essence? Ha! You''re hardly the first to ask. What sets you apart from the rest? If you wish to stand out, I suggest supporting our endeavors¡ªperhaps through development aid or financial backing."


    By day''s end, Michael had secured pledges from 24 knights and 48 mages willing to relocate to his fiefdom.


    Others who couldn''t leave immediately promised investment funds and planned future visits to the territory. Some mages even proposed sending their disciples instead. Michael negotiated to accept three 7th-tier, five 8th-tier, and several 9th-tier disciples as proxies.


    As word spread, other mages followed suit, eager to offload their disciples onto the venture. By the end of the day, 20 senior mages had committed 160 disciples¡ª60 of 7th and 8th tier, and 100 of 9th tier¡ªto the endeavor. The senior mages themselves also pledged to visit, ensuring the fiefdom wouldn''t be short on magical expertise. sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    While Michael and Laurence busily reaped the fruits of their efforts, Dominic was handling a more delicate matter.


    Accompanied by his intimidating father-in-law, Alfred, Dominic visited the main temple to register Leonardo and Ispher as contracted demons and secure their status as property of the Crassus family.


    As executioner and enforcer, Leonardo and Ispher would require official registration, including restrictions such as needing authorization to leave the territory and maintaining their initial forms when outside the fiefdom.


    Though Michael had hoped to use Ispher''s shadow concealment ability for covert operations, these restrictions made that impossible¡ªfor now. Still, Alfred and Miaomiao had noted the extraordinary refinement of Ispher''s shadow magic, which remained nearly undetectable.


    For the registry, Ispher''s tracking skills would be documented, while Leonardo''s artifact crafting was highlighted. Their more dangerous capabilities¡ªlike Leonardo''s enthrallment and Ispher''s combat-oriented stealth¡ªwould remain concealed, thanks to Alfred and Dominic''s intervention.


    The temple''s standard protocol involved two verification stages for demon abilities, but Alfred and Dominic''s reputations ensured that their declarations would suffice.


    When they arrived at the main temple, a black-robed priest greeted them warmly. His expression lit up upon recognizing Alfred.


    "Ah, High Priest Alfred! It''s been far too long. What a delight to see you again. Dare I hope this means you''re considering returning to the temple?"


    Alfred raised a hand to cut him off, his tone curt. "Unnecessary chatter. We''re here on other business."


    Dominic, standing beside him, looked visibly taken aback.


    High Priest? Returning?


    Alfred paid no mind to Dominic''s puzzled expression. The priest, glancing at Alfred briefly, cleared his throat and led them inside the temple. Dominic, who had never been close to his father-in-law, merely found himself curious. He had always suspected Alfred wasn''t just an ordinary executioner. Shaking off the thought, Dominic reminded himself of what mattered most: Alfred was helping Michael.

 Chapter 77 - 77 Serf Traders

    As they stepped into the temple, the radiant stained glass windows cast a dazzling glow. The air in the Temple of Death and Vengeance was both divine and solemn. Dominic was awestruck by the sacred atmosphere, while Alfred , seemingly unfazed, kept his gaze elsewhere. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Contrary to his stern first impression, the priest conducted the registration process with surprising efficiency. Within ten minutes, everything was complete, with no trials involving the demonic beasts required¡ªjust a few basic questions for the records. Leonardo and Ispher received their transformation prohibitions and stepped out shortly after. Leonardo flexed his arm, inspecting the new restriction, while Ispher remained silent.


    Curious about the situation back at the inn, Dominic hurried back. Alfred claimed to have other business and disappeared elsewhere, leaving the demonic beasts to follow Dominic.


    The inn was still bustling with activity. Dominic threw himself into assisting his son, deftly handling knights and nobles. In the midst of this chaos, Treasurer Lawrence approached Dominic with a discreet report.


    "My lord, there are 15 individuals waiting for private discussions with you," Lawrence murmured.


    Dominic frowned briefly before nodding. He made his way to a reserved guest room, where the first merchant soon entered. The man, with his plump figure and jiggling cheeks, approached with an exuberant smile. Rings encrusted with gemstones glimmered brightly as he clasped his hands together.


    "My lord! To meet you in person is truly an honor. I''ve heard so much about you. You embody the qualities of a hero!" the merchant began in a syrupy voice, bowing deeply.


    Dominic coughed lightly and fixed the merchant with a steady gaze, determined not to be deceived by his seemingly foolish demeanor and flattering words.


    "Enough with the pleasantries. Let''s get straight to the point. Why did you request to see me?" Dominic asked.


    Momentarily flustered, the merchant quickly regained his composure, offering an awkward smile before explaining his business.


    "Ah... Would you be in need of serfs, by any chance? The more serfs a new territory has, the better, wouldn''t you agree?"


    Dominic''s interest was piqued. Could this man be one of the rumored serf traders? Narrowing his eyes, he tried to gauge the merchant''s intentions.


    "Explain in detail," Dominic commanded.


    Seeing Dominic''s growing interest, the merchant''s cheeks quivered with excitement.


    "Indeed, my lord. I have 500 slaves of impeccable status awaiting a new master. What do you think?"


    Dominic remained silent for a moment, his thoughts swirling.


    "That would depend on where these serfs come from," he finally said.


    The merchant leaned forward, his excitement mounting.


    "There are no issues whatsoever! It''s a common matter. While people may be scarce in the northern regions, the south has the opposite problem. There, the land is limited, but the serfs keep multiplying. Their lords even prohibit them from marrying to curb the numbers!"


    Dominic frowned at the explanation. It sounded plausible, but...


    "Isn''t buying and selling people against the law? How do you plan to handle the paperwork?" Dominic inquired, his skepticism evident.


    The merchant, unfazed by Dominic''s suspicious gaze, offered a sly grin.


    "It''s quite simple. You''ll purchase 10 pyeong of land in the southern territories. The paperwork already states that the serfs are attached to that land. They''ll legally become your property. Since it''s unlikely a northern lord would manage land in the south, you can quickly resell the land and solve the issue."


    Dominic pondered the proposal. It was undeniably tempting. If the merchant''s words were true, it would be an efficient way to increase the population and develop new farmland.


    Sensing Dominic''s hesitation, the merchant eagerly added more incentives.


    "Let''s sweeten the deal! To celebrate forming ties with a distinguished figure like you, I''m willing to take a slight loss. How about this? I''ll throw in an additional 50 serfs¡ª550 in total¡ªfor the price of 500."


    Dominic made up his mind. Passing up such an opportunity would be foolish.


    "Very well, but there''s a condition. The serfs must be sold as family units. I won''t allow families to be separated, as it would cause unrest or attempts to escape."


    The merchant hesitated, annoyed at the stipulation. Originally, he had planned to separate the attractive ones for individual sale. Still, adhering to Dominic''s terms would allow him to offload the elderly and children as well. His hesitation was brief.


    "Agreed. However, the robust men and women are already accounted for, so bringing their families will increase the overall numbers. Here''s the breakdown: 100 gold per able-bodied man (180 in total), 70 gold per able-bodied woman (160 in total), and 45 gold per elderly or child regardless of gender. Would it be acceptable to include the extra 50 serfs from the elderly and children category?"


    Dominic nodded. The price seemed reasonable.


    "I''ll pay a deposit of 1,000 gold for now. Who is vouching for your credibility?" Dominic asked, wanting to avoid being swindled.


    "The guarantee for my identity comes from Lord Balkan, a southern baron who manages serf trading. Here is his certification," the merchant replied, producing a document.


    Dominic examined the document, which bore Baron Balkan''s seal, and nodded in satisfaction.


    "Where will the exchange and final payment take place?" the merchant inquired.


    After some thought, Dominic gave his instructions. Transporting such a large group of serfs directly from the current location was unnecessary.


    "The serfs should be delivered to the new territory. Set up a flag and station soldiers in the gorge near Iron Valley. Once we leave the capital, bring them there. Ensure there are no losses during transit¡ªthey''re already sold."


    The merchant grinned broadly as he replied, "Thank you for such a generous deal, my lord. I will ensure the serfs are well-fed and in perfect condition before they are sent to you."


    This transaction, precariously straddling the line between legality and expedience, was just one of 14 similar deals that followed. By evening, Dominic had secured 3,987 serfs, three Grade-9 magical beasts, and five passes to the black market. The serfs were necessary to populate the newly acquired lands, while the beasts were essential for the pioneering efforts.

 Chapter 78 - 78 Spending Time With Astrid

    Dominic couldn''t help but reflect on the events of the day. It was clear now why merchants like these naturally sought out nobles who had been granted new territories. What he''d heard turned out to be true.


    Meanwhile, Lawrence and Michael had concluded their negotiations as well. Once the delivery of goods was finalized, the funds available for managing the new territory would significantly increase. The fact that they could relocate without incurring debt was already remarkable. Baron Kensington, notorious for his financial struggles, looked on at them with envious eyes.


    With most of the tasks in the capital completed, Dominic''s gaze shifted to Michael.


    "Well, it seems we''ve wrapped up most of the work here. Are you ready to depart for the territory? If all is in order, we could leave as early as tomorrow," he said.


    Michael recalled his promise to the princess. He had expressed a desire to visit the royal library, and to his surprise, the princess had agreed.


    "I''ve made plans to visit the royal library with the princess tomorrow afternoon," Michael responded.


    Dominic''s face lit up with pride. "Well done, my son!" he exclaimed, clapping Michael on the shoulder in encouragement. "That''s excellent news. Even after we leave the capital, make sure to keep in touch with the princess. Who knows? She might even become a lady of the house someday."


    Michael nodded. It was a prospect he too had hoped for.


    "Yes, we''ve already agreed to exchange letters. Her character is truly admirable," he said.


    Spring was in full bloom at the royal palace. The lush grass shimmered, and flower petals danced in the breeze, carrying their fragrance throughout the gardens.


    Michael greeted the princess as she approached in casual attire, a stark contrast to her formal appearance at the ball.


    "Once again, you look radiant, Princess. It is an honor to meet you again," Michael said with a warm smile.


    Princess Astrid returned the smile and replied, "Please, call me Astrid. Today, we''re meeting as friends who share a love for books."


    "If that''s the case, Astrid it is. Shall we?" Michael offered his arm.


    "Yes, Sir Michael." sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael supported her hand with a gentlemanly touch and walked slightly ahead, carefully scanning for obstacles in their path. His refined manners, a skill honed under Lincoln''s guidance, did not go unnoticed. The handmaidens accompanying the princess exchanged glances of admiration at his elegance, which was far from typical of a knight.


    As they strolled through the gardens, their conversation flowed naturally. Astrid shared stories about the books she had recently begun reading, and Michael listened attentively, offering his thoughts when appropriate.


    "Sir Michael, your insights are remarkable. I truly enjoy our discussions," Astrid said, her voice filled with genuine appreciation.


    Michael silently thanked Lincoln. Without his teachings, he would have surely exposed his lack of knowledge.


    "The pleasure is all mine, Astrid. I never imagined I''d meet someone so brilliant and charming during my time in the capital," Michael replied.


    Astrid, with a soft smile, led him to the royal library. The grand space was both majestic and timeless, with walls lined with bookshelves stretching to the ceiling. A large, inviting table with plush chairs stood at the center of the room.


    "This is my favorite place in the palace. Here, I can read to my heart''s content and dream of the world beyond," Astrid said, her voice filled with a hint of longing.


    Michael admired the library, nodding in agreement. He also made a point to offer her words of reassurance. "One day, you''ll see that vast world with your own eyes. This is truly a beautiful space."


    Astrid looked at him with a wistful gaze. Could that dream really come true?


    "There are so many books here. I''ve never seen anything like it," Michael remarked.


    "Our kingdom has collected these books over many years. From fairy tales for children to enchanting tomes of magic, we preserve every book we acquire, even those taken as spoils of war," Astrid explained.


    Michael marveled at the collection. It was no small feat to gather such a vast array of knowledge, especially considering the challenges noble families faced in protecting their legacies.


    "Would it be inappropriate if I read some of these?" he asked.


    "Not at all. Feel free to explore the general collection. Unfortunately, the restricted section is off-limits. It''s my father''s rule, and I must follow it," Astrid said with an apologetic smile.


    Michael returned the smile, reassuring her. "No need to apologize, Astrid. This is more than enough. Shall we pick out some books together?"


    Her cheeks flushed slightly as she nodded with a laugh. They quietly selected their books and settled into their seats to read. The handmaidens, sensing an opportunity to give the princess some freedom, discreetly left the library. They had worked hard to convince the queen to allow this meeting and hoped it would bring Astrid some solace.


    Time passed in serene silence, broken only by the sound of turning pages. After two hours, Michael glanced up and found Astrid deeply engrossed in her book, biting her lower lip lightly¡ªa habit, it seemed.


    He couldn''t help but admire her beauty, though his admiration felt more like appreciating a work of art than romantic desire. Sensing his gaze, Astrid looked up and met his eyes. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red.


    "You''re staring. It''s embarrassing," she murmured.


    "Forgive me, Astrid. I couldn''t help it. You look so captivating when you''re focused," Michael admitted.


    Flustered, Astrid quickly set her book down and stood. "It''s already so late. I should be going. I''ll send you a letter soon."


    Michael rose and bowed politely. "I''ll look forward to it, Astrid. I hope today brought you as much joy as it did me."


    "I truly enjoyed myself as well. Until next time," Astrid said before leaving the library with a graceful demeanor. Outside, she instructed her handmaidens to close the door and leaned against it, trying to calm her racing heart.


    Her thoughts raced. The way Michael had looked at her, the way her face had burned¡ªit was overwhelming. What was this feeling?


    As Michael exited the palace, he felt lighter than ever. He believed they had grown close enough for the king to speak kindly of him. Continued correspondence with Astrid would surely yield even more benefits in the future.

 Chapter 79 - 79 Judge People Based On Appearances

    Dominic and Michael had arrived in the Barony of Crassus and were inspecting the harvest stored in the warehouses. Though the journey had been exhausting, the sight of the vast troves of goods piled high in the storage quickly banished their fatigue. The warehouse was packed with chests of gold ingots and a variety of valuable items.


    "To simplify transport for the move to the new territory, I converted most of the funds into gold ingots. It''s much easier to move that way," Dominic explained.


    Michael nodded in agreement. "That was wise of you. The total was 280,000 gold, wasn''t it?"


    "Yes, and after conversion, it came out to five chests of ingots. I plan to assign guards to keep them secure," Dominic replied.


    Michael, deep in thought for a moment, offered a suggestion. "Why not hide the gold under the seat of my carriage? If my sisters ride in my carriage, the added security won''t seem unusual."


    Dominic, who had been admiring the stacks of goods with satisfaction, looked up and nodded. "That''s a good idea. That way, we won''t draw unnecessary attention."


    Relieved about the transportation plan, Dominic suddenly had a thought. "But wait, will Marcus and Miaomiao be in the same carriage? What if Marcus sees the chests of gold and becomes tempted?"


    The thought of a dragon in close proximity to a stash of gold, only to have it taken away, was enough to conjure images of chaos and bloodshed. While Marcus was considered unusually docile for a dragon, there was no telling how he might react to such temptation.


    "If he doesn''t see the gold, there won''t be any problem. Dragons can''t smell gold through a sealed chest, after all," Michael reassured him.


    The logic was sound¡ªso long as the chests were properly sealed and out of sight, Marcus wouldn''t even notice.


    "Alright then, I trust you with this," Dominic said with a nod.


    "I''ll have Leonardo prepare a space under the seat of the carriage. With Miaomiao and Marcus around, there won''t be any issues with safety," Michael added.


    Dominic, his face lighting up with satisfaction, cast another glance at the treasure-filled warehouse. "It''s truly gratifying. Never in my life did I imagine our storage would be filled with such fine goods."


    In addition to the gold ingots, there were ten chests of high-quality fabrics, ten chests each of premium tea and coffee, ten chests of spices excluding salt, three chests of assorted gems, five sets of armor, twelve longswords, and a chest of Grade-5 or lower magic cores.


    After confirming the excellent condition of all the items, the two men exchanged looks of relief. These treasures would serve as a crucial foundation for their new territory. On top of this, there were numerous other resources set to be transported, including three magical beasts and 3,987 serfs. The anticipation of the incoming mages and knights only added to their sense of satisfaction.


    Dominic sighed, his tone tinged with both relief and a hint of melancholy. "This is enough to get us started in the new territory, but now we need to assess the state of the villages there."


    Leaving one''s long-held lands was never easy, even if the new lands promised more opportunity. Most of the freemen had already pledged to follow the Crassus family to the new territory, so ensuring adequate housing for them was another task that needed to be addressed.


    "There''s supposed to be an existing castle in the new territory, isn''t there?" Michael asked.


    Dominic nodded. "Yes, Iron Valley was once the domain of Baron Crown. However, after the Pamir Empire''s invasion, the baron and his entire household, including their retainers, were massacred. The land was left abandoned without an heir. Being on the frontier, no lord has wanted to claim it since. If it feels ominous, we can always summon priests to perform a cleansing ritual and start repairs."


    Michael held back a smirk. A cleansing ritual? If there were any lingering spirits, they could actually prove useful.


    "That won''t be necessary," Michael replied gently. "I''ll take Miaomiao and scout the area first."


    Dominic''s face brightened at the offer. With so much already on his plate, delegating the task was a relief. "Would you? Check how much of it is damaged and report back. Afterward, you can take Elizabeth and her attendants to discuss how best to renovate."


    Michael smiled. Working alongside Elizabeth on various preparations during their trip to the capital had brought them closer. Though she appeared reserved on the surface, she was caring and highly capable when it came to managing tasks. Thinking of his sharp and dependable sister brought a chuckle to his lips.


    "Yes, being a former baron''s castle, it''s bound to be larger than our current one," he noted.


    "Undoubtedly. Will you be taking guards with you?" Dominic asked.


    "That won''t be necessary. You know Miaomiao''s temperament," Michael replied. S§×arch* The n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Dominic grimaced at the thought of the small creature, who seemed to hiss at him every chance it got. "True enough¡­ I can''t quite figure out what Miaomiao''s criteria are. Why does it dislike me so much?"


    Michael wisely kept silent. How could he tell his father that Miaomiao judged people based on appearances?


    "To check the iron deposits, it might be a good idea to bring Marcus as well," Michael continued. "Please handle the preparations here. I''ll take Miaomiao and Marcus to Iron Valley."


    Dominic looked at him with concern, the bond between them having grown stronger over time. "Be careful. And take the new longsword with you¡ªit''s made of pure silver."


    "Yes, Father," Michael said with a respectful nod before leaving the room.


    The longsword, crafted from silver, was light and effective against spirits. It was rare to acquire such a weapon unless passed down through a noble family or obtained directly from the kingdom, making it a valuable addition. Perhaps one day, he''d be able to don a full set of silver armor as well.


    With his attendants helping him prepare for departure, Michael mounted Bucephalus with Miaomiao perched on his shoulder. The small creature gazed up at the sky, while Marcus soared above them, his powerful wings cutting through the air. The gentle spring breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers, and the fields below were awash with vibrant colors.

 Chapter 80 - 80 Cursed Castle

    [Miaomiao, do you think the castle will be bigger than this one?] Michael asked, breaking the silence.


    "It should be, considering it''s a baron''s castle. Why do you ask?" he replied.


    Miaomiao licked its paw nonchalantly. [I''d like my own room. Marcus snores too loudly.]


    Michael chuckled. "True, his snoring can be quite loud. Alright, when we renovate the castle, I''ll make sure you have your own room next to mine. Ispher mentioned wanting to stay close for security, so it''ll have to be a big room. Don''t worry, I''ll make it happen."


    Miaomiao flicked its tail with approval. [Well, I suppose I don''t mind Ispher sharing.]


    Known for its superficial judgments based on appearances, Miaomiao resumed grooming its paw. Michael narrowed his eyes as he observed the creature. Yes, Ispher was handsome, but it wasn''t worth debating. Instead, he changed the topic.


    "I''ve only seen the castle on maps, so I''m curious to see what it looks like in person. With you and Marcus around, I doubt any magical beasts will dare approach."


    Miaomiao raised its nose in mock indignation. [Of course not. How dare mere beasts come near us? Marcus and I are divine beings.]


    "Yes, yes, I know," Michael said as he looked at the map. "According to this, the mine should be located behind the castle. We''ll have to see what state it''s in."


    [Naturally, that little chick will find it easily,] Miaomiao quipped, licking a paw. [He''s so good at digging through the ground, after all.]


    Michael sighed, turning to the feline on his shoulder. "Can''t you treat Marcus a bit better? He doesn''t even have other dragons to live with. Don''t you feel sorry for him?"


    [Hmph! I treat him just fine,] Miaomiao replied, flicking her tail. [Calling him ''chick'' is just a nickname. Look at him flapping around up there¡ªhe''s exactly like a baby bird, don''t you think?]


    Michael glanced up at Marcus, who was soaring joyfully through the air, twisting and turning in graceful loops. His red scales gleamed in the sunlight, reflecting a dazzling glow. There wasn''t a trace of the aggressive nature usually associated with dragons; instead, he looked as carefree as a fledgling taking its first flight.


    "Well¡­ I''ll admit, he does seem innocent," Michael remarked.


    As they ventured beyond the village, Marcus reverted to his true form, spreading his massive wings and performing elegant aerial maneuvers. The sight of his shimmering scales against the backdrop of a clear spring sky added to the serene beauty of the moment.


    Bucephalus, restless from the slow pace, pawed at the ground with his front hooves. Sensing the stallion''s impatience, Michael decided it was time for a change of pace. Gripping the reins tightly, he called out, "How about we pick up the pace, Miaomiao? Hold on tight!"


    [Don''t worry about me, focus on yourself!] Miaomiao retorted, her tail flicking in defiance.


    Under the vibrant spring sun, with flowers in full bloom across the rolling fields, Michael, Miaomiao, and Bucephalus dashed forward, their spirits soaring. Marcus, too, quickened his pace, gliding effortlessly in the air to keep up.


    When they arrived at Iron Valley, the village surrounding the castle came into view. It was unusual in design: the castle wasn''t surrounded by walls. Instead, the village seemed to encircle the castle itself.


    As Michael rode through the village, he noticed a few houses still appeared inhabited. Could these be remnants of the previous Baron Crown''s subjects? According to his knowledge, the villagers tied to Iron Valley had long been absorbed into neighboring territories.


    Curious, Michael approached the nearest house, a modest farmhouse. He knocked on the door, and after a moment, an elderly woman with snow-white hair cautiously peered out. The interior was dim and littered with straw, evidence that livestock had been housed indoors through the winter. S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Who''s there? Oh my, a nobleman!" the woman exclaimed, her hands trembling as she prepared to bow low.


    Michael quickly stopped her, offering a reassuring smile. "There''s no need for such formalities. Are you a resident of Iron Valley?"


    "Yes, my lord," the woman replied, her voice quivering. "My name is Osa, a humble native of these lands."


    Michael softened his tone, aware of her frailty. "Osa, I thought all the villagers here had been relocated to neighboring territories. Why are you still here?"


    Osa sighed deeply before answering. "Well, my lord, families with strong, able-bodied men were accepted by other territories, but those of us who are old and weak had nowhere to go. The land here is empty, so we scrape by, barely surviving. Do we¡­ need to leave now?"


    Panic crept into Osa''s voice as she gripped her apron tightly. Michael quickly reassured her, "No, nothing like that. My family has been granted this land, and I''m here to survey it. How many others are still living here?"


    Osa hesitated, counting on her fingers slowly. She seemed honest but struggled with larger numbers. "Well¡­ there''s me, my husband, and my simple-minded son¡ªthat''s three of us. Next door, old Miranda and her husband make two more. Across the way, Piggy''s house has three, and further down, Jona''s household has four since their elder passed this winter. That''s it."


    Michael nodded. Her count matched the visible signs of life in the village¡ªfour occupied houses.


    "So, there are twelve of you altogether," he confirmed. "I''ve heard there''s still a castle here. What condition is it in?"


    Osa''s small eyes widened in fear, and she wrung her hands nervously. "Oh, kind knight, please don''t take my words the wrong way, but that place is cursed. We''ve managed to survive out here in the village, but no one who has stayed in the castle has lived long."


    Michael frowned. "What do you mean? As far as I know, Baron Crown and his family died during the war."


    Osa shook her head sadly. "That''s true, but the baron''s family was only a distant branch that inherited the title. They were wiped out within three months. Before them, the previous lords died of illness, their entire household wasting away. And before them, another family invited all sorts of exorcists to drive out what they said were evil spirits, only to meet their end as well."

 Chapter 81 - 81 Youre Keeping Track Of My Payment Properly, Right?

    Her voice dropped to a whisper. "For nearly 500 years, my family has lived here, and the stories of the castle have always been grim. Even the sturdiest knights who dared enter ended up sickly and weak. People say they hear a woman crying at night, or they see fingers reaching out from the well. That''s why most of the villagers left¡ªafraid the curse would seep out into the village."


    Michael studied her trembling hands and frightened expression. Her account, however fantastical, didn''t seem fabricated.


    "If it''s such a notorious place, why haven''t I heard any rumors about it across the region?" he asked.


    Osa''s reply was humble. "Well, my lord, it''s just gossip among us common folk. We''ve never had the chance to tell anyone important."


    Her explanation made sense. If he had inherited land from a distant relative, he wouldn''t have paid much attention to local superstitions either. The repeated deaths and the lack of heirs could explain why the Crown family line had dwindled and the land had reverted to the kingdom.


    But Michael had one more question. "As a baronial domain, there must have been priests or executioners from the Radiant Church here. What did they do about it? Executioners are essentially priests of death and vengeance, after all." S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Osa clasped her hands together, bowing her head. "We might call it a curse, but the officials seemed to think it was just a coincidence. I''ve never heard of the priests doing anything. When the villagers left, they left too."


    Michael turned his gaze toward the distant castle. The stories certainly gave it an eerie air, but instead of fear, he smiled.


    A curse? Evil spirits? He thought to himself, That might actually be a good thing.


    As Michael approached the castle, Miaomiao cautiously spoke to him.


    "[Michael, this might not be as easy as it seems, Miao. Isn''t it strange that no one has claimed a territory with an iron mine, a castle, and a village still intact, Miao? There must be rumors circulating among the nobles, Miao. The Radiance Church is notoriously irresponsible, and executioners are such a closed-off group with highly individualistic tendencies. If the executioner here is an irresponsible person, it''s likely they avoided dealing with something they couldn''t handle, Miao.]"


    In the light that stretched across the village square, Michael listened to Miaomiao''s concerns and paused to think. Her green eyes glimmered nervously as she awaited his response.


    Michael, understanding her worries, smiled to reassure her. "Yes, I know. Under normal circumstances, this place would already belong to someone. Don''t worry. I''m not going to the castle alone. For now, I want to check the condition of the iron mine in the mountains behind the castle. We''ll go to the castle together tomorrow with Grandpa. Does that sound okay?"


    Relieved, Miaomiao curled her tail and settled back onto the saddle of Bucephalos. "[That''s a relief, Miao. I was worried you might get too excited and do something irreversible... Not that I think you''re weak or untrustworthy, Miao!]"


    Seeing her watching him anxiously, Michael gently stroked her brow. His touch carried a genuine warmth, and Miaomiao half-closed her eyes, purring contentedly.


    "Don''t worry, I''m not that reckless. Thanks to Oisin''s power¡ªat least, I think that''s the reason¡ªI''m getting stronger every day. I feel like the absorbed mana is affecting my body."


    After mulling it over, Miaomiao nodded in agreement. Her black fur shimmered in the sunlight. "[That''s entirely possible, Miao. After all, we''re strong because we''re born with mana. It would make sense for humans infused with mana to experience the same, Miao.]"


    Michael gestured toward Marcus, who was still soaring through the sky. Apparently keeping an eye on them even while flying freely, Marcus descended and began to shrink in size. His massive frame gradually transformed until he was about the size of a pony.


    "[Ah, that was delightful. Sister. Human¡ªno, Michael. Why did you call me?]" Marcus''s landing caused a slight ripple in the air as he turned his curious gaze to Michael.


    "We''re about to explore the mine," Michael explained. "I''ve heard that dragons are naturally skilled at prospecting and mining. Is that true?"


    Having previously yielded to Miaomiao''s insistence that he drop formal speech with her, Marcus stood proudly, his chest puffed out, exuding confidence. His eyes gleamed with pride. "[Of course! Human¡ªno, Michael. As a member of the great Red Dragons, I possess exceptional talent for locating and excavating minerals.]"


    Playing to Marcus''s ego, Michael praised him enthusiastically. "That''s incredible, Marcus. Truly worthy of the great Red Dragons. So we''ll get to see that talent in action today."


    Pleased, Marcus spread the thin membranes of his face wide open. "[Indeed, Michael. You''ll witness my abilities firsthand.]"


    Though Miaomiao looked at Marcus with disdain, Michael remained undeterred. "Great! Thank you, Marcus. I''m counting on you. I heard there''s an iron mine in that mountain range. Can you check how long it is and how much ore it contains?"


    "[Understood. Wait here a moment.]" Marcus spread his wings grandly, preparing to take off.


    "Wait a minute! Marcus, you need to carry us. Go back to your original size over at that clearing."


    Marcus nodded and flew toward the clearing. While Michael secured Bucephalos in an empty stable, Miaomiao whispered behind him. "[That fool¡­ He doesn''t even know he should demand compensation for labor, Miao. Really, he''s such a naive chick, Miao. Michael, you''re keeping track of my payment properly, right, Miao?]"


    Michael recalled her payment as explained by his grandfather: one gold per day, along with a good meal and milk. Since the food and milk were being provided daily, it seemed she was referring to the gold. "Of course! Your gold is being carefully saved. By the way, Miaomiao, do you know what an investment is?"


    While Michael subtly tried to introduce her to the concept of investment¡ªor, perhaps, a scam¡ªMarcus reached the clearing and returned to his original size. Michael approached him, holding a specially crafted saddle he had requested from Leonardo.

 Chapter 82 - 82 Easy To Fool

    The saddle, made of finely worked leather and metal, was imbued with shape adjusting magic. Michael draped it over the area between Marcus''s shoulders. The saddle automatically expanded to fit perfectly against his massive frame. He tightened the straps securely around Marcus''s body, ensuring a snug fit.


    "Alright, Marcus. Try jumping a bit," Michael instructed.


    Marcus leaped into the air without hesitation, testing the saddle''s stability. Despite his vigorous movements, the saddle remained firmly in place. Satisfied, Michael climbed onto the saddle, gripping the reins embedded between Marcus''s scales. Marcus, in turn, crouched low to make it easier for Michael to mount. Once everything was secured, Michael called out, "Let''s go!"


    With a powerful beat of Marcus''s enormous wings, they rose swiftly into the sky. The ground fell away beneath them as Michael marveled at the stunning view of the open sky, the vast landscape below, and the distant mountain range.


    Perhaps thanks to his training as a pilot, the flight felt unexpectedly smooth. Glancing back at him, Marcus''s eyes sparkled with a hint of challenge. "[Can we go faster, Michael?]"


    Michael chuckled. "Go ahead. As fast as you like!"


    With a small smirk, Marcus flapped his wings even harder. He had secretly expected the human to struggle, but to his surprise, Michael seemed completely unfazed.


    ''How is he still so calm?'' Marcus wondered incredulously.


    Michael kept his eyes open, enjoying the wind rushing past him. Although he was wearing specially designed goggles crafted by Leonardo, it was still remarkable to see a human remain so composed in the sky.


    Marcus, curious about Michael''s resilience, decided to test him with a series of acrobatic maneuvers. He dove and climbed rapidly, twisting his body freely in the air. Yet Michael''s expression remained unchanged; in fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself.


    Admitting defeat internally, Marcus finally acknowledged Michael. Well, at least someone of his caliber deserves to be my contractor.


    Despite Marcus''s antics, they eventually arrived at the mine nestled midway up the mountain range. The mine was embedded in a massive rock face, and as Michael dismounted onto the overgrown clearing in front of it, he clicked his tongue.


    The mine entrance was overgrown with waist high grass, and abandoned mining tools were scattered haphazardly, showing how long it had been since operations ceased. Michael bent down to inspect the ground. Picking up a piece of brown tinged iron ore from a mining cart, he handed it to Marcus.


    "Here, Marcus. This is what we''re looking for. If you can figure out how much of this is here and how deep it runs, I''ll make sure to decorate your lair with even more gold. Your future diet of plump cattle¡ªor, heaven forbid, scrawny sheep and goats¡ªdepends on your work today. So, do your best."


    Marcus snorted in indignation.


    "[Scrawny sheep or goats? Watch and see how skilled I am at locating minerals! But tonight, I demand a cows as a reward, no two cows.]"


    The kitten shot Michael a shocked look, torn between chastising him for exploiting Marcus or berating the gullible dragon for being so easily manipulated.


    Watching Marcus storm toward the mine entrance in a huff, Miaomiao sighed. "[That fool¡­ Doesn''t he remember we already agreed on a set food allowance? Michael, you tell me to be nice to the chick, and yet¡­ What''s this about?]"


    Michael coughed lightly. "Sometimes compromises are necessary in social situations," he muttered.


    Meanwhile, Marcus sniffed the ground, shook his head, and pressed his paws against various spots as if searching for something. Suddenly, he lifted his head sharply and pointed in a direction with the tip of his wing.


    "[Over here! The vein extends this way. Get on my back.]"


    Miaomiao grumbled. "[It''s rare to see a dragon so eager to carry people, Miao.]" Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Shh! Don''t complain. If he''s being cooperative, what''s the harm in that?" Michael said, silencing her.


    With Miaomiao mumbling something about disgraces to dragons and divine beasts, Michael climbed onto Marcus''s back. Marcus, already familiar with the process, waited patiently while Michael secured the harness to the saddle. Do other dragon riders have dragons this compliant? Probably not, Michael mused.


    "Thanks, Marcus. Let''s go," Michael said.


    With a nod, Marcus launched into the air, beating his wings powerfully as they ascended. He flew over the mine and continued deeper into the mountains. As they traveled farther, Michael grew suspicious and asked, "Wait, Marcus. Are you sure? It feels like we''ve already left the mine''s boundary."


    Marcus tilted his head to look back at Michael, his eyes gleaming with confidence. "[Of course, human. Are you doubting my ability? I''m following the vein, and the quality of the ore is improving the farther we go.]"


    Michael burst out laughing. "Haha, not bad at all. Good job, Marcus. I''ll ask the chef to prepare extra steaks for you tonight as a reward."


    "[Ha! This is nothing. I can find even more if you want!]" Marcus declared, lifting his head proudly.


    Miaomiao, unimpressed, shook her head and muttered, "[That fool¡­]"


    The extent of the vein far exceeded what Michael had seen on maps in the royal palace. It stretched across the mountains, reaching a small plateau and even a lake. Seeing this, Michael called out, "Marcus! Is there iron ore beneath that plateau and lake too?"


    Marcus lazily flicked his tail. "[Yes, human no, Michael. The amount of iron ore beneath the lake is several times greater than what''s on land.]"


    Michael fell into thought. It was clear that the Crown family had only mined the most accessible areas of the mountains. He recalled hearing that the mines had been abandoned due to the low quality of exposed ore, which made it difficult to produce high grade iron and required costly charcoal imports. However, the ore beneath the lake and plateau was far superior.


    Excitement bubbled within Michael at the new possibilities. "Miaomiao, do you think we could mine the plateau and lake areas using Marcus and some mages from the capital?"

 Chapter 83 - 83 Asking For Help

    "[It''s possible, Miao. But if you start mining, the royal family will find out. Are you okay with that?]"


    Michael hesitated. If they could produce high-quality iron ore, it might be worth sharing the profits with the royal family at a 70-30 split to start mining operations. However, this wasn''t a decision he could make alone. He resolved to discuss it with his father first.


    "Marcus, that''s enough for now. Let''s stop here," Michael said.


    Marcus slowed his flight. The vein didn''t extend much farther and wouldn''t cross the border. That reassured Michael. A broader conflict with the Pamir Empire would become inevitable if rumors spread about the wealth of high-quality ore near the border.


    While the plateau and lake technically belonged to Iron Valley, territorial disputes often came down to brute force rather than legal claims. Still, the potential profits from mining made it worth the risk.


    Michael gazed at the wetlands near the lake. If he claimed the wetlands were being developed into farmland to bolster food production, he could discreetly mine the iron ore without drawing too much attention. The region''s lack of food production provided a plausible excuse.


    "Marcus, do you think the vein extends beyond the lake and plateau?"


    Marcus considered it for a moment before answering, "[I suspect it might touch the mountains slightly, but it doesn''t go much farther.]"


    Relieved, Michael nodded. If the vein didn''t extend beyond the mountains, the risk of disputes would be minimized. Still, with war clouds looming, avoiding conflict entirely might be impossible.


    Looking around at the towering mountains, Michael felt a measure of comfort. Even if war broke out, the mountains would provide a strong defensive position.


    Drawing on memories from his previous life, Michael observed the area more closely. The regions Marcus identified as containing ore had smaller, tilted trees, while the areas beyond the vein were far denser with vegetation.


    "That should be enough for now," Michael decided.


    He climbed back onto Marcus''s back. The next step was to find the former residents of Iron Valley. There must be skilled miners among them who could handle this work. sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Returning to the castle, Michael went to find his father. Dominic was immersed in writing documents.


    "Oh, Michael. You''re back? So, how''s the castle?"


    "I scouted the village and focused on exploring the mine. As for the castle, I heard there might be some issues, so I plan to visit again tomorrow with Grandfather."


    "Issues? What sort of issues?"


    Michael explained what the old woman had told him.


    "Hmm... Wise decision. It''s best not to take unnecessary risks. But a curse, you say? Now that I think about it, the Crown Viscount family ending without an heir is certainly unusual. So you''ll be going with your grandfather?"


    "Yes. He''s the most trustworthy person I know."


    "Haha, that''s true."


    Dominic recalled the priest from the Temple of Death and Vengeance, the one who had nervously referred to Alfred as the High Priest.


    "So, are you heading to your grandfather''s house now?"


    "Yes. By the way, Grandfather has decided to live in the castle, but I''m not sure when he''ll be moving in."


    Michael feigned ignorance as Dominic''s eyes flickered with unease. Well, I''m the one bringing him here, so what can he do about it?


    "Oh... I see. That''s a great idea," Dominic said, giving up on voicing his concerns. Although Alfred could be a challenging presence, having him live in the castle would offer many advantages.


    "And I''d like to bring back the former residents of Iron Valley who worked in the mines. How should I go about doing that?" Michael asked.


    "That''s simple. Most of them probably moved to nearby territories. Speak with the lords of those territories, offer a form of compensation, and persuade the former residents directly to return. It''s a good plan. Skilled miners will definitely help with the excavation efforts."


    "Understood. I''ll visit the nearby territories soon."


    "Alright. I''ll write letters for you to deliver. Come to my office tomorrow morning; I''ll have them ready."


    "Thank you, Father."


    Dominic watched Michael''s back as he left the office, pride evident in his gaze. Then, he returned to his work, faced with a mountain of tasks awaiting resolution.


    Michael rode Bucephalos alone, traveling familiar paths. The villagers he encountered in the square greeted him warmly.


    Miaomiao and Marcus, claiming they needed rest after yesterday''s exertions, had sprawled out in Michael''s chambers and refused to budge. Michael didn''t mind; he, too, wanted some quiet time with his grandfather and was content to let them rest.


    The familiar trail through the forest eventually led him to the house he longed to see.


    Alfred was outside in the clearing, splitting logs. Each time the wood split with a sharp crack, his arm muscles rippled with power. Watching the display, Michael swallowed hard. He looks just like the strongest wrestlers I admired in my past life.


    "I''m here, Grandfather," Michael called.


    Alfred tossed the last piece of split wood onto a nearby pile and turned to his grandson.


    "Ah, you''re here. I take it something''s come up."


    Michael scratched his head awkwardly. "Sorry, Grandfather. It seems I only visit when there''s a problem."


    Alfred waved him off. "Nonsense. Come inside."


    Once inside, Michael settled on the sofa near the fireplace. Alfred, with practiced ease, prepared tea and handed a cup to Michael.


    "Here, have a cup. What''s going on?"


    Michael recounted the events in detail. Alfred listened attentively, his brow furrowing as the story unfolded. He sipped his tea thoughtfully before speaking.


    "If the executioner assigned to that area is the one I know, then it makes sense. He was a lazy drunkard who never took his job seriously. A man like that wouldn''t have risked his life unnecessarily. As for the priests of the Radiance Church, ordinary priests are weaklings not worth mentioning. It seems clear there''s some sort of issue within the castle."


    "Exactly. That''s why I thought it''d be dangerous to go alone and came to you for help. I''m sorry to keep burdening you like this."


    Alfred looked up at Michael, his crimson eyes carrying a familiar weight of sorrow. He smiled gently.


    "Don''t be ridiculous. Helping you brings me joy. When do you plan to leave?"


    "Tomorrow, I think. I''ll take Miaomiao and Marcus with me. They''ve been a great help."

 Chapter 84 - 84 The Baron Of Chamber

    "Ah, you seem to have grown close to Miaomiao. That little one loves handsome and beautiful things, so I figured she''d warm up to you."


    "Haha, I''m flattered. Thank you, Grandfather."


    "But there''s a slight problem. I have an errand to run tomorrow, so I''ll be away for a bit. Could we leave the day after?"


    "There''s no rush. The title transfer for the territory hasn''t been finalized, and the nobles of the northeastern and northwestern provinces seem to be locked in a power struggle. I''ll use tomorrow to take care of some business and come back the day after."


    "That sounds like a good plan."


    Alfred gazed at Michael, the shadows of the setting sun casting a soft glow on his face. His heart ached once again. When will this pain ever go away?


    "Will you stay for dinner?" Alfred asked.


    "Of course! Take a seat, Grandfather. Tonight, I''ll cook for you. It''s a dish I used to enjoy, and I think you''ll like it too."


    With that, Michael hurried outside. He wanted to prepare a French-style braised beef dish he used to cook occasionally in his solitary days. It was a simple recipe: saut¨¦ing vegetables, meat, and bacon before simmering them in wine.


    He retrieved the beef and other ingredients wrapped in parchment from Bucephalos''s saddle and began cooking.


    When Alfred tasted the finished dish, his eyes widened. "This is delicious. I didn''t know you could cook like this."


    "Well, I lived alone for a while, and sometimes I just wanted to treat myself. This was one of those dishes."


    Alfred''s gaze softened as he looked at Michael. "You must have been lonely. Didn''t you ever think of finding someone to share your life with?"


    "Hmm¡­ I had a few blind dates and arranged meetings, but I always ended up stopping partway through. I felt like someone who''d never been loved couldn''t love another or build a family. But now¡­ things feel different."


    Alfred patted the back of Michael''s hand. "That''s right. It''s time to live differently. This is really good. Eat up."


    Under the warm glow of the magical lamp Leonardo had gifted them, the grandfather and grandson shared a pleasant conversation over dinner. The atmosphere was peaceful and comforting.


    Michael held up the saddle, now a familiar piece of equipment for him. Marcus, having grown accustomed to the process, immediately enlarged his body and crouched down to allow the saddle to be strapped on. The servants around them gasped and scurried back, their wide-eyed gazes darting between Michael and Marcus with a mix of awe and fear.


    Michael attached a specially crafted net beneath the saddle. He carefully loaded the wooden boxes into the net, padded them with extra materials to prevent scratches, and pulled the ropes taut to secure them.


    "Um, my lord... Are you sure we won''t fall from the sky wearing this?" one of the squires asked nervously as they helped load the gifts into the net. Their trembling hands fastened their harnesses.


    "Of course. As long as you wear the harness and hold tightly to the handles attached to the saddle, you''ll be fine," Michael assured them calmly.


    Sighing in reluctant acceptance, the squires climbed onto the saddle, their hands shaking as they took their places. The saddle covered nearly half of Marcus''s broad back.


    Michael, seated at the front where the reins were attached, unfolded a map. He had identified three potential territories where the former residents of Iron Valley might have settled. Deciding to start with the closest one, he set his course for the Chamber Barony.


    Once everyone was seated, Michael gave Marcus a gentle command. "Alright, let''s go. Fly with as much dignity as possible. I''ll direct you as we go¡ªhead west for now."


    Marcus obeyed, soaring gracefully into the sky. For Michael, this was an exceptionally convenient mode of transportation, though the squires behind him, gagging and groaning, would undoubtedly disagree.


    It wasn''t long before the Chamber Castle came into view. As Marcus, with his saddle and passengers, approached the castle, the villagers below screamed and fell to the ground in terror.


    Pleased with the intended effect, Michael leaned forward and said, "Marcus, could you give a roar? It might impress them enough to bring you some jewels." S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Despite Miaomiao''s judgmental stare, Michael remained unbothered. Marcus, flattered by the suggestion, let out a deep, resonating roar.


    "[Grrraaaahhh!]"


    The sound echoed through the air like the ominous rumbling of an impending volcanic eruption. Inside the castle, the Baron of Chamber, who had rushed out upon hearing of the dragon''s approach, clutched his ears and threw himself to the ground in panic.


    "Is the dragon attacking? What''s happening?" the baron exclaimed.


    "...My lord," a steward replied, "it appears the dragon only roared. The rider atop it is asking if they may land in the courtyard."


    "A dragon? Why would a dragon land in my castle?"


    "It''s not just the dragon¡ªit''s a dragon rider."


    Slowly lifting his head, the baron spotted the saddle atop the dragon hovering by the castle walls.


    "I am Michael von Crassus, heir to Viscount Crassus. I''ve come to speak with the lord of this castle, Baron Chamber. May I land in your courtyard?"


    Dusting off his clothes and feigning composure, the baron called out, "Of course! Welcome, esteemed Dragon Knight of the Eighth Order!"


    Michael''s reputation as a dragon rider who had once flown into the capital alongside a sphinx had spread across the kingdom.


    "Steward, show our utmost respect. There''s no harm in forging a friendship with a Dragon Knight," the baron whispered.


    With a grand welcome, Michael was escorted into the baron''s office. The meeting yielded the desired results swiftly. Baron Chamber granted permission for Michael to take as many of the former Iron Valley residents as he wished.


    The process unfolded efficiently. The steward summoned the domain''s manager, who instructed the townsfolk from Iron Valley to gather in the square.


    As they assembled, their anxious gazes flitting nervously, Michael stepped forward and addressed them.


    "I am Michael von Crassus, heir to the new lord of Iron Valley, Viscount Crassus. Are there any miners among you who once worked in Iron Valley?"

 Chapter 85 - 85 Reopen The Mines

    A dozen or so individuals hesitated before stepping forward.


    "I plan to reopen the mines. Those who return with me to Iron Valley will be provided with housing based on their family size, farmland to cultivate, and wages for their mining work. Does anyone wish to return home?"


    After a moment of hesitation, one brave soul asked, "My lord, will we be allowed to choose our houses? I don''t want to live in the village near the castle."


    The others nodded in agreement, confirming what Michael had already suspected based on the old woman''s earlier comments.


    "That can be arranged," Michael replied. "Wages will start at a minimum of three silver a month. Take your time to consider."


    The murmurs in the square grew louder. Three silver coins a month? For comparison, peasants with farmland typically earned between 1.5 to 2 silver coins a month.


    The one who had asked the question stepped forward again. "I''ll go, my lord! But it''ll take some time to bring my family along. When do we need to be ready?"


    His declaration triggered a chorus of eager responses as others clamored to join.


    Even those who weren''t miners but hailed from Iron Valley looked on enviously. Seizing the opportunity, Michael continued, "You don''t need to have mining experience to join. Anyone originally from Iron Valley may register. Simply give your name and mark to my squire. Soldiers will come to collect you later."


    The square erupted into a bustling crowd as people lined up to register. Michael''s squire, Alex, worked diligently to calm the crowd and maintain order.


    Watching Alex, Michael approached Marcus, intending to head to the next territory. However, Marcus seemed deflated.


    "[Michael... Do I lack dignity? The humans didn''t offer any jewels...]"


    Michael patted Marcus reassuringly. "Don''t worry, Marcus. You were plenty dignified. Next time, I''m sure someone will bring jewels."


    With those comforting words, Michael urged Marcus onward.


    The scenes in the other two baronies unfolded similarly. Despite Marcus''s impressive roars, no one brought jewels. As their journey ended and they returned to collect the squires, Marcus''s spirits visibly waned. Even his once-mighty wingbeats lost some of their vigor.


    Upon reaching Crassus Castle, Michael approached the sulking Marcus and handed him a small box.


    "Here, Marcus. This is your reward for all the hard work you''ve done. Open it."


    Marcus''s eyes widened with excitement, and he quickly opened the box. Inside was a finely crafted gold necklace.


    Overjoyed, Marcus picked it up with his claws and licked it to confirm its authenticity. It was real gold. His elation was evident as he admired the gift, while Miaomiao muttered under her breath, "[What a fool...]"


    Michael and Alfred stood in the clearing before the Iron Valley Castle. The gloomy weather cast an even darker aura over the place.


    "Let''s go in. Shall we, Grandfather?"


    Michael took the lead, holding the silver crossbow Leonardo had specially crafted for him. Miaomiao and Marcus perched on his shoulders, and Alfred followed, pulling back the black hood of his cloak as they entered the foreboding castle grounds.


    Crossing the dried-up moat and passing through the still-sturdy castle walls, Michael and Alfred entered the inner courtyard of the castle. Unlike the Crassus estate, the castle walls enclosed only the fortress itself, not a surrounding village.


    A heavy silence lingered in the courtyard. The first structure that caught their attention was a well in the center. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "They say fingers occasionally emerge from that well. Have you ever heard of such a type of wraith?" Michael asked, moving closer to the well with Alfred.


    The well''s edge was covered in moss, and the structure was built from ancient stone. The water inside was still and clear. Without hesitation, Michael pulled on the rope connected to the pulley, drawing water up from the depths. Fortunately, no fingers emerged.


    "I''ve heard of cases where heavy rains caused underground tombs to flood, washing bones into wells. But fingers? And intact ones at that... That''s a first," Alfred remarked.


    Michael nodded. According to the old woman''s story, the fingers weren''t skeletal but appeared as if they still had flesh attached. He peered into the well, lost in thought.


    "Do you think there''s something wrong with this castle?" Michael asked.


    "It seems likely. Should we head inside to investigate?" Alfred replied, removing his hand from the edge of the well.


    "Yes. If it''s a wraith or something similar, that might actually be better. I can simply absorb it."


    "If only things were always that simple," Alfred said with a faint smile.


    Perched on Michael''s shoulder, Miaomiao interjected, "[Alfred, don''t you think something feels off? I can sense an ominous energy coming from beneath the castle.]"


    Alfred nodded in agreement. "I do. We should head straight to the underground level."


    The group crossed the courtyard, searching for a staircase that would lead to the castle''s underground chambers.


    The old basement was dark and damp, with cobwebs draping the ceiling. Michael lit the magical lamp Leonardo had crafted for him, instantly illuminating the pitch-black surroundings.


    As they descended, the air grew colder and carried a musty scent that prickled their noses. The moment Michael set foot in the underground chamber, he could feel that the place wasn''t ordinary.


    The basement was flooded with water¡ªbut the strange part was how unnaturally clear the water appeared. Despite being stagnant, it was pristine, without a single speck of debris floating in it.


    Faint light shimmered beneath the surface, as though hiding a secret.


    "This water is unusually clear. Was it always like this? Or did it become this way after the castle was abandoned?" Michael asked.


    "Hard to say," Alfred replied.


    Miaomiao pointed to a nearby stone with her paw. "[This castle was built using materials from an ancient temple, if not constructed over the temple itself. Look at that stone.]"


    The stone bore strange inscriptions, unlike anything Michael had ever seen before.


    "[I recognize those ancient characters from old traditions, miao. They refer to the Goddess of Ashes and Fire¡ªone of the ancient deities who disappeared when the Radiance overthrew them 10,000 years ago.]"

 Chapter 86 - 86 Disabling The Barrier

    Despite being submerged for millennia, the stones looked pristine, as though time had stopped. The surfaces were smooth and radiant, showing no signs of wear.


    "So, could these stones be the reason the castle''s residents perished?" Michael asked.


    "[Most likely. Living atop a god''s domain rarely ends well for anyone, miao,]" Miaomiao replied grimly.


    "That means, for us to live here, we''d need to remove all these stones. Is that even possible, Grandfather?" Michael asked.


    "It might be easier to tear the castle down and rebuild it," Alfred said, his voice heavy with contemplation as he studied the inscriptions.


    Michael shared his grandfather''s sentiments. If that were the case...


    "Miaomiao, do you think you could translate all the writing on these stones?"


    "[I think I can, but it''ll take some time, miao,]" she replied. Leaping off Michael''s shoulder, she dove into the water and swam gracefully, her green eyes glowing as she examined the stones.


    After a while, she surfaced and began to read aloud.


    "[I''ll summarize the important parts, miao. ''Those who tread upon this land without offering worship will incur the wrath of the goddess. Oh, Goddess, vanquish the vile Radiance and return to us. With this plea, we leave the last remnants of the goddess''s power in the lake.'']"


    Michael turned to Alfred, his gaze firm. "This explains why only the nobles died. The servants and villagers would have always been bowing their heads and behaving respectfully."


    "That seems likely," Alfred agreed. "You mentioned there''s a lake nearby, didn''t you?"


    "Yes. We need to go there. If I can absorb or eliminate the remnants of the goddess''s power, the castle should be safe."


    "I agree. Let''s head there."


    At that moment, Miaomiao called out, "[Wait! There''s another inscription¡ªit looks like it was added later. It''s carved into a large cornerstone.]"


    Michael turned back. "Read it for us."


    "[It''s also in an ancient script, but it seems more advanced than the earlier one¡ªprobably written around 2,000 years later, miao. It says: ''During the establishment of this outpost, a detachment stationed near the lake was found dead. Their bodies bore no injuries but were covered in a thick layer of dust, exuding an ominous aura. Alarmed, we left immediately. The local tribes say this happens every year around this time. The deceased were found near the lake, with no wounds or signs of disease. This serves as a grim reminder of something sinister in the lake. Therefore, I, General Tiberius, declare this area forbidden and warn all to stay away.'']" S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael listened to the warning and fell deep into thought. Dust-covered bodies with no injuries, a goddess of ashes and fire, an ominous energy¡ªhis mind began piecing it all together.


    "A volcanic lake!" Michael exclaimed.


    He recalled stories of volcanic craters that, even thousands of years after an eruption, still released harmful gases and particles that made the area uninhabitable. This would explain the unnaturally clear water¡ªmineral-rich hot spring water must be flowing in from the crater.


    "Grandfather, there might still be a volcanic crater beneath the lake. If the Goddess of Ashes and Fire was once enshrined here, it makes sense that she would be associated with a volcano. The clear water, the dust-covered corpses¡ªit all fits. The goddess''s remaining power must be causing these disasters."


    His heartbeat quickened. If the volcano were to erupt, it could be catastrophic.


    Michael and Alfred hurried out of the basement and climbed onto Marcus''s back.


    "Marcus, as a red dragon, you should be able to sense volcanic activity. Is there a crater beneath the lake?"


    "[Uh... When I was searching for ore, I wasn''t paying attention to that. But if I concentrate, I should be able to tell,]" Marcus replied.


    "Then let''s go quickly. We need to resolve this," Michael urged.


    Spreading his wings, Marcus soared toward the lake. As they circled the area, Marcus suddenly shouted, "[Here it is, Michael! There''s a crater beneath the lake. But there''s something strange¡ªthere are structures near both the lake and the crater.]"


    They had found it.


    The castle builders must have reused parts of an ancient temple that had been exposed over time. While it seemed impossible by conventional wisdom to construct a subterranean temple near a volcanic crater, this was no ordinary world.


    "[Michael, I can sense the presence of a powerful force within the temple. It seems to be suppressing a potential volcanic eruption, miao,]" Miaomiao warned.


    Michael hesitated. Would absorbing this power trigger the volcano? Yet, leaving the temple as it was meant the castle would remain unusable.


    "I''m not sure what we should do, but we should start by examining the temple," Michael suggested.


    Alfred nodded in agreement.


    They discarded their metal equipment and entered the cold water of the lake. Though frigid, it was bearable. Miaomiao and Marcus followed close behind.


    As they descended, a massive barrier surrounding the submerged temple came into view. The structure exuded an otherworldly aura, a blend of mystery and foreboding.


    Miaomiao swam ahead, pressing her paw against the barrier. It responded like a living organism, parting to create an opening.


    "[Deciphering and disabling barriers is a unique ability of sphinxes, miao,]" she explained, noticing Michael''s curious gaze.


    Michael was quietly thrilled at the versatility of her abilities.


    Inside the barrier, the water vanished, replaced by an atmosphere that felt as if they''d stepped into another world. They could breathe and walk as though on dry land.


    The group explored the temple. Massive pillars adorned with intricate patterns towered above them, and ancient inscriptions were etched across the walls.


    "I can sense the remnants of an outer god here," Alfred murmured. "It seems that without worshippers for millennia, the deity has faded, leaving only this fragment of its power behind."


    Michael felt reassured by this. If it was merely the remnants of an outer god''s power, he could absorb it without issue.


    As they ventured deeper into the temple, the walls were lined with murals.


    The first depicted a beautiful woman with four arms wielding fire, commanding volcanoes.


    The subsequent murals grew darker. They showed a war, though the primary combatants were not humans. Giants, known only from legends, were locked in battle with the goddess, whose fiery resistance was vividly portrayed.

 Chapter 87 - 87 Absorbing The Divinity Powers

    The scenes became progressively chaotic, showing the goddess fighting against dragons, Radiant angels, demons, and wraiths. Each new enemy grew more numerous and fierce, and the goddess''s expressions turned from determination to despair.


    The final mural depicted the fallen goddess, her body battered and broken, surrounded by mourning followers prostrated in sorrow.


    "[The murals tell of the downfall of the old gods, miao. The Radiance incited the united races to destroy them, and the Goddess of Ashes and Fire was the last to fall,]" Miaomiao explained.


    Passing the murals, the group pressed deeper into the temple.


    The next sight was gruesome: bodies lay everywhere.


    Some corpses were missing limbs, while others had their fingers severed. Clad in ancient garments, the bodies were so well preserved that they appeared to have just died.


    Michael looked at Alfred in shock. "Could it be...?"


    Alfred nodded solemnly. "Yes, now we know where the fingers from the well came from."


    "[They were sacrifices, miao. The ancient gods demanded human offerings, and the power of this temple was sustained through the sacrificial rituals performed here,]" Miaomiao said, her voice steady but somber.


    Michael recalled the ancient stones from the well. If those stones came from this temple, it was likely parts of these bodies were in the castle''s basement as well.


    Shaking off the horror of the scene, Michael steadied himself. These were events from a long distant past.


    "Once we''re done here, we should give these bodies a proper burial," he said softly.


    They moved further into the temple. The air grew colder, heavy with a chilling energy.


    At the temple''s center, they entered a vast hall.


    A magnificent statue of the goddess stood there, holding a still burning flame in her hands.


    The statue was exquisitely crafted, so lifelike it seemed to breathe. Michael found himself drawn to the flickering flame, unable to look away.


    Suddenly, a melodic female voice filled the air, seductive and inviting.


    Alfred, too, paused abruptly, seemingly captivated by the sound.


    "Come closer and place your hand into the flame. I will grant you limitless power," the voice promised.


    Michael''s lips twitched in annoyance. Outer gods¡ªthey always tried the same tricks. Unlimited power? If it was so unlimited, why didn''t she free herself instead of enticing humans?


    Feigning hesitation, Michael asked, "Are you the Goddess of Ashes and Fire? How could someone as great as you end up in a place like this?"


    Miaomiao shot him a look, as if to say not this again, but Michael ignored her.


    "This is all the work of the Radiance!" the voice exclaimed, growing more desperate. "They ambushed me and massacred my followers. Release me, and I will make you the greatest being in the world. Quickly!"


    Michael took a step back, feigning fear. "But... won''t releasing you cause the volcano to erupt? As the heir to this land, I can''t take such a risk."


    The voice softened, coaxing. "That''s nothing to worry about. The barrier here stabilizes the volcano''s power and has nothing to do with me. Just free me, and you''ll be safe."


    Michael hesitated theatrically. "There''s another problem. People near the lake have been dying for years. If I don''t understand why¡ª"


    The air in the temple trembled as the voice snapped, "That was me! How could I allow unworthy mortals to settle near my sacred lake? But it doesn''t matter. Become my new priest, and all will be forgiven..."


    Glancing at Miaomiao and Alfred, Michael saw them nod slightly.


    "Is that so? Well, that''s a relief," Michael said nonchalantly.


    Before the voice could finish its plea, Michael stepped forward and placed his hand on the statue.


    "Not there! Put your hand into the flame¡ª"


    "Absorptionem eligo!"


    Unleashing his ability, Michael activated a massive force that began absorbing the goddess''s power.


    "No! Stop! This can''t be happening¡ªaaaghhh!"


    Her scream echoed throughout the temple as the statue cracked and began to crumble.


    The immense power that had been sealed within flowed into Michael. He relished the sensation, letting the energy course through him and reveling in his complete control over it.


    Smirking, he looked down at the shattered remains of the statue. Whether she was desperate from her millennia long imprisonment or simply foolish, Michael was glad the goddess''s attempts to manipulate him had failed.


    "One thing the statue got right¡ªit really was harmless," he remarked, looking around cautiously.


    Fearing the possibility of an unexpected twist, Michael scanned the temple. But no calamity came. The temple remained still and serene, save for the destroyed statue.


    Sighing in relief, Michael turned to his companions. "Let''s search the area. This is an ancient temple¡ªthere might be more treasures to uncover."


    As Michael was about to leave the temple, he noticed something sparkling among the crumbled statue debris.


    Carefully brushing the remains aside, his eyes fell on a glowing, red gemstone. The gem was a deep, intense red, as though flames were flickering inside it.


    "[Huh? That''s the Heart of Fire. You''ve found something really valuable. Doesn''t the gem feel hot to the touch? There''s definitely the power of fire within it. What a find!]" Miaomiao exclaimed.


    Michael grasped the gemstone, feeling its warmth, and tried to calm his excitement.


    Lincoln''s grandfather, a baron and an appraiser at the capital''s auction house, had passed on a wealth of knowledge. With that expertise, Michael immediately recognized the gem''s value. It would be incredibly useful for refining high quality iron.


    Feeling Marcus''s greedy gaze, Michael quickly tucked the gemstone into his spatial pouch. Marcus, looking downcast, stuck out his tongue and slumped. S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Cheer up, Marcus! I''m sure there''s more treasure here. This place, where the goddess once dreamed of resurrection, can''t be without treasure," Michael encouraged.


    At the mention of more treasures, Marcus perked up, eager to move forward. He even tapped his claws on the floor, impatient to hurry.


    "[Let''s go quickly! What if someone else takes the treasure?]"


    "[You fool, there''s no one else here]" Miaomiao growled, swiftly grabbing Marcus to prevent him from running ahead.

 Chapter 88 - 88 Lucrecia

    "Take it easy. There might be traps here," Michael cautioned.


    "Yes, Grandfather. It''s better to be cautious," Marcus said, calming down.


    Michael, having just found the Heart of Fire, tried to steady his emotions.


    Since this was an ancient temple, there was no telling what dangers lay ahead. The sight of the bodies in the previous room came to mind¡ªthis temple was one dedicated to a god that demanded human sacrifices. They had to proceed with care.


    As they left the central hall, a long corridor appeared. The atmosphere was dark and oppressive.


    When they reached the end of the hall, a grey mist began to rise. The mist slowly coalesced into a human shape, then shifted to become a woman, her hood pulled low.


    "[At last, you''ve come! The new master of Ashes and Fire, I see.]"


    Michael''s heart began to race. The new master of Ashes and Fire? Was it because he held the Heart of Fire, or had it been the goddess''s power he absorbed? Regardless of the reason, he felt no fear.


    He steadied himself and chose to be bold. "It''s a pleasure. I am Michael von Crassus. Who are you?"


    The woman''s figure responded with deep reverence.


    "[I am a loyal servant, waiting for my master for countless years. I have been bound here, serving ever since. How is the goddess? Is she safe?]"


    Michael paused, recalling the final moments of the statue. He decided to be honest; there was no reason to lie.


    "The goddess passed on her final strength to me before returning to the heavens."


    The woman froze, her words momentarily lost. After a long pause, she smiled sadly.


    "[Ah, the goddess! So noble, even in her final moments. Master, may I ask... will you avenge the goddess? Will you destroy the Radiance?]"


    Michael didn''t hesitate for a second. The vows he had made after witnessing the tragedy at Crowley Manor were still fresh in his mind, the memories weighing heavily on him.


    "I will dedicate everything to destroying the Radiance."


    Building power and increasing his worth was part of that mission. Perhaps there was a bit of personal ambition mixed in, but that didn''t matter.


    The woman bowed deeply. Her movements were graceful and respectful.


    "[Then I will serve you as my master. Welcome, new master of Fire. I am Lucrecia, the goddess''s steward.]"


    "A steward? What kind of storehouse are you guarding?"


    Lucrecia''s red lips curved into a smile.


    "[What would you like? Gold, jewels, weapons and armor, food supplies, cloth, magical materials¡­ We also have training rooms, sleeping quarters, and baths.]"


    Michael exchanged a glance with Alfred.


    Marcus, barely able to contain his excitement, stomped his feet impatiently.


    "Well, I guess we should start with the jewel storehouse."


    Lucrecia smiled again, and the grey mist enveloped the group.


    "[It might make you dizzy, so please close your eyes.]"


    They all closed their eyes. A slight dizziness overcame them, and it felt as though they were being pulled somewhere. The air shifted, and Lucrecia''s voice spoke once more.


    "[You may open your eyes now.]"


    Anticipation filled Michael''s gaze as he opened his eyes¡ªonly to feel disappointment wash over him.


    In the vast, dark storehouse, there were only a few boxes.


    He frowned as he surveyed the empty shelves.


    "Is this it?"


    He couldn''t hide his disappointment as he asked. Lucrecia laughed nervously, her smile faltering.


    "[There was significant consumption during the last great war, so...]"


    Michael quickly regained his composure. This was still a surprising find¡ªthere was no reason to complain.


    Marcus, snorting in frustration, was practically foaming at the mouth. Miaomiao tapped her paw against the ground, visibly irritated. Alfred showed no interest in the boxes, standing still as though unaffected.


    Michael opened the first box, and his mood immediately brightened.


    Inside were bars of gold, stacked neatly. The gold bars were the size of a finger, and the sight of them filled him with a sense of satisfaction.


    By the size of the box, Michael estimated the value to be around 500,000 gold. This alone would be enough to pour all the current funds in his estate into further development.


    Marcus stared at the gold, his eyes wide with awe. Michael quickly stuffed the box into his spatial pouch, before Marcus could make a move.


    Marcus looked as though he''d just witnessed the saddest thing in the world.


    Michael, feeling buoyed by the gold, opened the second box with excitement.


    Inside was a single necklace¡ªan exquisite pearl necklace. Its size was unlike anything Michael had ever seen. He was mesmerized as he lifted the necklace.


    "Wow¡­ this is beautiful," Miaomiao said, her voice full of awe.


    The necklace was beyond stunning. Each pearl was adorned with platinum and ruby, and the centerpiece was a teardrop-shaped pearl the size of a thumb. The pearls gleamed with a soft, ethereal glow, as if the light within them was coming to life.


    Michael''s resolve firmed. This would become an heirloom, passed down through generations.


    "Does it please you? This pearl necklace can also be transformed into a brooch or a tiara if you prefer," Lucrecia explained.


    Michael''s desire to keep it only grew stronger after hearing that.


    Marcus, with his eyes wide and almost glazed over, was entranced by the necklace.


    Michael tucked the necklace into the spatial pouch along with the box, and then with trembling hands, opened the third box.


    This one was filled with an array of sparkling jewels: sapphires, emeralds, rubies, topaz, diamonds¡ªgems of every kind, each one shimmering brightly.


    Marcus couldn''t hold back anymore. With a determined leap, he pounced on the box, diving into the jewels and wrapping himself in them.


    "[Hey, you idiot! Get out of there! Those are Michael''s!]" Miaomiao yelled, grabbing Marcus by the tail to drag him away.


    "Calm down, Marcus! Stay still, and I''ll give you ten of the gems you want."


    Marcus, still dazed, stared at them with wide, confused eyes.


    "[S-sorry, ma''am. It''s just instinct¡­]," Marcus stammered, retreating sheepishly.


    Michael pretended not to notice the jewel caught on Marcus''s claw and turned his attention to the last chest. Inside, he found it filled to the brim with white silver¡ªan extremely rare and valuable material.


    A chest like this alone was worth as much as an entire castle. Michael looked up at Lucrecia and asked, "If this is what''s left over, just how much was there in the beginning?"


    "[Our goddess once ruled the world. There were countless chests like these, filling entire storehouses. But those days are long gone,]" Lucrecia said with a bittersweet smile. Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 89 - 89 Training Room

    Michael, reining in his excitement, stored the white silver chest in his spatial pouch. The now empty and pristine storehouse left him with a strange sense of emptiness.


    "[Where would you like to go next?]" Lucrecia asked.


    After a moment''s thought, Michael replied, "Take us to the weapons and armor storehouse."


    "[Very well. Please close your eyes,]" she instructed.


    The weapons and armor storehouse, like the jewel storehouse, was nearly empty.


    Michael''s attention was drawn to a suit of armor in one corner. The lower half of the armor glowed with a fiery red hue that transitioned into a silvery sheen toward the top.


    "[That''s armor made of white silver and meteorite steel. It''s lightweight, durable, and resistant to magical attacks. It also has an adaptive feature, adjusting to the wearer''s body,]" Lucrecia explained.


    Michael reached out to try on the armor, but Lucrecia stepped in his way.


    "[There''s better armor than this. This one is just standard knight armor.]"


    Standard? Michael wondered if the craftsmanship from 10,000 years ago was truly so superior. Even the armor of Zenon, the Radiance Church''s Paladin Commander, couldn''t compare to this.


    "In that case, I''ll take it for the knights of my estate. How many of these are left?"


    "[Twelve sets remain. Shall I prepare them for transport?]"


    "Yes. Load them into my spatial pouch."


    Twelve sets of armor floated into the air and disappeared into Michael''s pouch.


    Lucrecia frowned slightly at the pouch. "[Why are you using such a low-quality spatial pouch? Wouldn''t a spatial ring or earring suit you better?]"


    Michael was caught off guard. Spatial rings and earrings were relics, only passed down through royal families.


    "Do such things still exist? In today''s world, only a handful of spatial rings remain," Michael admitted.


    "[Is that so? How long has it been since the goddess fell asleep?]"


    "Ten thousand years."


    "[Ten thousand years... That explains it. The Radiance worked hard to erase all remnants of wonder from the world,]" Lucrecia said with a sigh.


    Her words made Michael think back to the Radiance Church''s doctrine. Even in a time when the Radiance''s kingdom housed magical towers, fundamentalists still opposed magic.


    "[I was once a shaman from the Pamir Plateau tribes. The Radiance''s dogs accused me of deceiving people with my magic. They gouged out my eyes, severed my limbs, and impaled me before burning me alive. The goddess saved me,]" Lucrecia explained, slowly lifting her head.


    Where her eyes should have been were empty sockets. Her hands and feet were missing as well. The sight made Michael''s stomach churn.


    "[But it''s fine now. I exist only as a spirit, and I''m grateful to the goddess for giving me a purpose,]" she said softly.


    "Her husband was the god of blacksmiths. One of his last masterpieces remains. Do you have a particular weapon or armor in mind?"


    As she spoke, a red aura began forming in the air.


    Michael considered what he needed most. "I need a bow and arrows. Archery is my specialty, but I don''t have a bow that can handle all my strength."


    "[Visualize its form. Whatever you desire will take shape,]" Lucrecia instructed.


    Michael imagined a bow that could transform into an accessory when not in use and arrows that regenerated automatically upon being fired.


    As his thoughts solidified, the red aura began to take form. The energy coalesced into a crimson bow and floated toward Michael.


    "[Draw the bowstring,]" Lucrecia urged.


    Michael raised the glowing red bow. Its smooth surface seemed to ripple with the intensity of fire, and intricate flame-like patterns adorned its frame.


    The bow felt perfectly balanced in his hands¡ªlight yet substantial. When he pulled the string, an arrow matching the bow''s color materialized, its tip flickering with a small flame.


    "Can the bow''s strength and range be adjusted?" Michael asked.


    "[As long as your mana permits, the power and range are limitless,]" Lucrecia assured him.


    Satisfied, Michael lowered the bow. It transformed into a bracelet, wrapping snugly around his wrist.


    Marcus stared at the flame-inscribed bracelet, awestruck. To console him, Michael took out a gemstone from his pouch and handed it to the dragon. Marcus sniffed the gem, then purred contentedly.


    "What about that armor you mentioned earlier? Is it also made by the blacksmith god?" Michael asked.


    Lucrecia summoned a suit of black armor, floating it before Michael.


    "[While it''s not as exceptional as your new weapon, this armor is another of the blacksmith god''s creations. It is highly durable, offers magical protection, and increases its defensive capabilities based on the wearer''s mana,]" she explained.


    Michael accepted the armor. Made entirely of black metal, it was a masterpiece, closer to art than equipment.


    "How do I put it on?" he asked.


    "[Wear this bracelet and speak the activation word. It will equip itself,]" Lucrecia said, handing him a bracelet adorned with obsidian.


    Grumbling about collecting bracelets, Michael put it on. The obsidian glowed faintly.


    "Press the obsidian and choose an activation word. It''s never been worn, so you can decide," Lucrecia added.


    After a moment''s thought, Michael pressed the stone and declared, "Armor!"


    The straightforward command made Lucrecia pause. "[...Well, at least it''s unforgettable.]"


    The armor adjusted itself perfectly to Michael''s body. It was so light he almost forgot he was wearing it.


    "Add any remaining weapons or armor to the pouch," Michael instructed. sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Lucrecia gestured, and various weapons and pieces of armor floated into the air¡ªgleaming swords, sturdy shields, and intricately crafted helmets. In total, about thirty items hovered before him.


    With the armor he''d already gathered, Michael was confident he could equip a large number of knights.


    "[Where to next?]" Lucrecia asked.


    "Food supplies, magical materials, and fabrics are what''s left, right? Just collect everything¡ªyou''ll know better than me what''s valuable."


    "[There are also spatial rings and earrings available. Shall I store everything in those?]"


    Michael''s eyes lit up. "Yes, please!"


    "You mentioned a training room earlier. I''d like to test the bow and armor there," Michael added.


    As Lucrecia summoned grey mist, a grand bronze door materialized. Its surface was adorned with ancient carvings, radiating an air of mystery.


    "[Be cautious. The training room will generate opponents matching your abilities. If you feel overwhelmed, shout ''enough,'' and it will stop,]" Lucrecia warned.


    The others opted to rest in the bedrooms they''d been assigned. After bidding them farewell, Michael stepped boldly through the bronze doors.


    Inside, a vast training arena unfolded. The domed ceiling stretched high above, and the space was imbued with a strange, electric energy.


    With his bow in hand and armor equipped, Michael strode to the center of the arena. This was the perfect chance to test his newfound power.

 Chapter 90 - 90 One Shooting A Dark Elf

    Stepping into the training grounds, Michael slowly surveyed his surroundings. The dome-shaped ceiling was gone, replaced by what seemed like untouched nature. A vast blue sky stretched overhead, where birds chirped and flitted through the air.


    Beneath his feet, he no longer felt the cold, hard stone of the floor but the soft, natural give of earth.


    An illusion? he wondered, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight.


    As he observed the serene scene, a man clad in armor began approaching him.


    Michael, sensing potential danger, instinctively tensed and fixed his gaze on the stranger. But the armored man greeted him warmly.


    "Hey! It''s been ages since I''ve seen another person. Are you the new paladin?"


    The man removed his helmet, revealing golden hair that shimmered in the sunlight. His cheerful smile radiated a genuine friendliness.


    However, the moment his eyes met Michael''s, the man''s expression changed. Composing himself, he placed a hand over his chest and knelt on one knee. Bowing his head, he spoke with reverence.


    "Forgive my rudeness, O new Master of Fire. I am Alexander, a soul bound to this training ground by the will of the goddess. What brings you here?"


    Michael motioned for him to rise. Having picked up on clues from the knight''s words, Michael quickly steadied his thoughts and played along.


    "Treat me as you would any other knight here. I''m merely here to train. Are you, like Lucrecia, bound to this place?"


    Alexander nodded, his expression clouded by sorrow and regret.


    "That is correct, my lord. I am Alexander Furbles, the first commander of the Radiance''s Holy Knights. I once served the vile Radiance but came to my senses after meeting the goddess. For my betrayal, I was sentenced to be burned alive by the Radiance''s hounds. The goddess saved my wretched soul and allowed me to remain here."


    After taking a moment to compose himself, Alexander turned to Michael and asked, "My lord, what kind of training do you desire?"


    Michael studied Alexander in silence, a mix of emotions swirling within him. Sadness, empathy, and curiosity. How had the Radiance''s first knight commander ended up bound to this place?


    "I''ve recently acquired some new techniques," Michael finally said. "I''d like training that will help me maximize their potential."


    Alexander nodded. "To tailor your training, I''ll first need to assess your skills. What is your weapon of choice?"


    Michael silently raised his bow.


    "A bow! And quite an extraordinary one at that," Alexander remarked with admiration. "I have just the challenge in mind. Would you care to hit every bird in flight?"


    Raising his hand, Alexander summoned a flock of birds from the distant forest. They soared into the sky, countless in number, varying in size, and moving in erratic, unpredictable patterns.


    Michael observed the birds'' movements for a moment. Not too difficult.


    Taking a deep breath, he slowly drew his bowstring. His first arrow pierced the heart of the highest bird.


    Almost instantly, a second arrow followed, curving gracefully to strike two birds at once.


    Alexander watched in amazement. The fluidity of Michael''s movements and the precision of his arrows made it seem as if the arrows guided themselves.


    With each shot, the birds burst into flames and disappeared. It was a testament to the countless hours Michael had spent honing his archery skills.


    He continued firing arrow after arrow, each one finding its target without fail.


    "...Did you just hit all of them? How is that even possible?" Alexander asked, unable to hide his astonishment.


    Michael lowered his bow and smiled. "You said to hit them all, didn''t you?"


    "Incredible¡­ You are a natural marksman," Alexander said, his eyes shining with admiration. Collecting himself, he continued, "Would you now like to spar against another archer? This opponent specializes in stealth and will prove quite challenging."


    "I''m open to any opponent. I want to gauge my current abilities and continue improving," Michael replied confidently.


    Alexander gave a silent gesture, and a figure materialized from thin air.


    A tall woman with dark skin and long, pointed ears stepped forward. Her body was adorned with intricate tattoos, and she moved with an eerie silence.


    Is that¡­ a dark elf? Michael wondered, intrigued.


    The woman carried a sleek, black bow and walked with the quiet grace of a shadow.


    "This is a dark elf, an ancient race long extinct. In this training ground, anything can be summoned. She is a perfect replica of a real individual and will test your skills thoroughly. Let''s begin!" Alexander announced.


    Clapping his hands, he sent the dark elf sprinting toward the forest.


    Her movements were cat-like¡ªswift, fluid, and silent. In an instant, she vanished from sight.


    Michael didn''t hesitate. He moved quickly, melding into the shadows of the training ground''s structures. If she''s using stealth, I''ll counter with stealth as well.


    He scanned his surroundings sharply, missing nothing, not even the smallest flicker of movement.


    As he emerged from the shadows into the forest, Michael spotted her.


    The dark elf crouched among the trees, her eyes cold and predatory as she aimed her bow like a hunter stalking prey.


    But who was the true hunter?


    Locating her position, Michael held his breath and waited.


    Finally, he saw an opening. Raising his bow, he drew the string back slowly, his focus razor-sharp.


    The faint sound of the string being drawn seemed to alert the dark elf. She began to dodge, but it was too late.


    Michael''s arrow flew true, striking her square in the waist.


    "Argh¡­" she groaned, clutching her side as she stumbled.


    The fatal wound caused her to convulse. Moments later, her form began to dissolve into flames.


    As Michael approached, the last flicker of fire consumed her, leaving no trace behind.


    Watching from outside the forest, Alexander was visibly stunned.


    "So quickly¡­?"


    Shaking his head in disbelief, Alexander walked over to Michael, his expression a mixture of awe and respect.


    "My lord, your skill is unbelievable. She was the pride of the dark elves, a master of stealth. Yet you defeated her so swiftly."


    Michael shrugged nonchalantly, lowering his bow. His breathing remained steady, and there wasn''t a single bead of sweat on his brow.


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 Chapter 91 - 91 A Sky Knight? What’s that?

    "Constant practice has its rewards. According to Lucrecia, this training ground adjusts opponents based on my level. Who''s my next challenge?" Michael asked, his composure unshaken.


    Alexander nodded, though his amazement lingered. "Indeed. However, it''s difficult to gauge your true level. Officially, you rank as an eighth-class knight, but your actual skills far exceed that. With your archery and stealth abilities, you could defeat opponents several levels above you."


    Michael''s lips curled into a faint smile. "Let''s see how much further I can go."


    "Could you summon random opponents for me? I want to test my limits," Michael asked.


    Alexander nodded and gestured toward the dark corners of the forest. Black silhouettes began to rise, their forms coalescing into masked figures.


    "Very well. Then let us begin! You''ll need to use every skill at your disposal," Alexander said, his tone laced with challenge.


    Michael gripped his bow tightly, his eyes scanning the area with sharp precision. The first thing he did was count his enemies: thirty-eight in total. S~ea??h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As the masked figures charged toward him, Michael swiftly melted into the shadows nearby.


    The masked enemies hesitated, disoriented by the sudden disappearance of their target. Then, from above, Michael emerged silently on a tree branch.


    He spotted his first target and, without hesitation, released an arrow. The arrow pierced the lead enemy''s head, turning him into ash.


    When the remaining enemies began moving toward the direction of the attack, Michael disappeared into the shadows again.


    Moving with ghost-like precision, he began systematically eliminating the masked figures one by one.


    Despite their efforts to locate him, Michael always managed to stay one step ahead. His movements were silent and fluid, like a natural-born assassin.


    As chaos spread among the enemies, Michael moved between trees and shadows, picking them off with a relentless efficiency.


    The third, fourth, and fifth enemies fell in rapid succession, each dissolving into ash as Michael''s arrows struck their marks.


    With each takedown, his movements grew faster, and his precision became deadlier.


    Eventually, only one masked figure remained.


    From his perch in the trees, Michael aimed his bow at the final target.


    The arrow flew true, piercing the figure''s heart. With a scream of pain, the last enemy crumbled into ash, leaving the battlefield silent.


    Michael emerged from the forest, heading toward the training grounds. Alexander was there, clapping with genuine admiration.


    "As expected, remarkable work, my lord. Now, may I have the honor of facing you myself?" Alexander asked, his eyes alight with a competitive gleam.


    Michael hesitated for a moment. Alexander, the first commander of the Radiance''s Holy Knights, personally stepping in as his opponent?


    Making up his mind, Michael drew his sword. "Let''s start with swords, then. Come at me!"


    Alexander nodded and unsheathed his own blade, his presence exuding the poise and power of a seasoned knight.


    The two warriors slowly closed the distance between them, their eyes locked, the tension in the air palpable.


    Alexander moved first, charging forward with a loud battle cry. His sword slashed through the air with speed and precision.


    Michael reacted instantly, raising his blade to block the strike.


    The clash of steel echoed across the training grounds as Alexander launched a series of rapid attacks.


    His strikes were sharp and precise, the product of years of refined technique. Michael, meanwhile, relied on his quick reflexes and raw power to parry and counter.


    Alexander''s attacks were masterful, his movements a display of disciplined skill. Michael''s style, in contrast, was unorthodox¡ªaggressive and unpredictable, favoring brute strength over finesse.


    Spotting an opening, Michael lowered his stance and aimed for Alexander''s side. His blade nearly broke through Alexander''s guard, but the knight quickly spun away, evading the strike.


    The two warriors stepped back, resetting their positions.


    "You have incredible strength and reflexes, my lord. But your technique needs refinement," Alexander commented with a smirk before resuming his offensive.


    As Alexander lunged forward again, Michael vanished into the shadows.


    The seasoned knight paused, scanning his surroundings with caution. He knew Michael was hiding, but pinpointing his exact location was another matter.


    After a brief moment of stillness, Alexander''s eyes widened in realization. He spun around just as Michael emerged from his shadow, bow in hand.


    Michael fired an arrow, but Alexander''s reflexes kicked in. He deflected the shot with his sword, sending sparks flying.


    Smiling confidently, Alexander relaxed for a split second¡ªonly to feel the cold edge of Michael''s blade against his neck.


    "You let your guard down. I win," Michael declared, his voice calm and assured.


    A bead of sweat trickled down Alexander''s brow, but his competitive spirit remained unshaken.


    "It''s been far too long since I''ve dueled. If I''d shown my full strength, the outcome might''ve been different," he said with a sheepish grin.


    Michael chuckled. "I haven''t fully utilized my armor or bow''s abilities either."


    Acknowledging his mistake, Alexander lowered his head. "I was too overconfident. Forgive my excuses. Shall we continue your training?"


    "Of course. I want to test the limits of my new bow and armor," Michael replied.


    "I was a third-class knight during my lifetime. My current strength matches that of a seventh-class knight, calibrated to your level. Would you like to face me at my peak?"


    Michael couldn''t hide his surprise. As expected of the first commander of the Radiance''s Holy Knights.


    "A third-class knight... That''s a level surpassed by only two people on the entire continent today. I''ve never even heard of anyone beyond that," Michael remarked.


    Alexander raised an eyebrow. "Only two? The world has grown soft, it seems. In my time, there were more than ten third-class knights, and the strongest among us was the Sky Knight."


    "The Sky Knight? What''s that?"


    Alexander sighed, shaking his head. "How much has been forgotten over the ages? Once a knight surpasses first-class, they reach a new realm. Beyond first-class is the rank of Earth Knight, capable of splitting mountains and carving through the earth. Beyond the Earth Knight is the Sky Knight, one who can fly with their own power. Have you never heard of them?"

 Chapter 92 - 92 Teach Me

    Michael fell silent, deep in thought.


    "No, I was merely the heir of a baron until recently. My family''s knowledge is limited, and even the great noble houses wouldn''t hide something like this. It seems this knowledge has been lost entirely."


    Alexander''s expression turned somber. "The legacy of true strength has vanished. To ascend to higher realms, one must cultivate the power of life itself. But the Radiance always opposed human advancement."


    "The power of life?" Michael asked, intrigued. "Is that another term for aura? I''ve already awakened mine."


    "Show me," Alexander requested.


    Michael concentrated, channeling his aura into his blade. A faint red glow began at the tip of the sword, gradually spreading along its length.


    "That''s aura, yes, but it''s far too weak. Have you not learned a proper sword path?" Alexander inquired.


    "No, my training has only covered inherited execution techniques. I''ve never studied a sword path," Michael admitted.


    "Perfect. Without a proper sword path, advancing is nearly impossible. Would you like to learn from me?"


    Michael hesitated. "But weren''t you a holy knight of the Radiance? If I use their techniques, I''ll end up being hunted."


    Alexander laughed. "I was also a prince of the East Kingdom. Naturally, I learned the royal sword path. By the way, is the East Kingdom still standing?"


    "No, I''ve never heard of it. I''m sorry," Michael replied.


    "Good riddance. There was no love lost for the royal family¡ªit was more corrupt than even the Radiance," Alexander said dismissively.


    Caught off guard by his bluntness, Michael was unsure how to respond.


    "So, will you inherit my legacy? It would be an honor to pass it on properly," Alexander said, his fiery gaze locking onto Michael as he firmly clasped his hand.


    Why does this feel... ominous? Michael thought.


    Michael hesitated at Alexander''s sudden proposal.


    "Well, I''d be happy to learn, but I don''t exactly have much time right now," he admitted.


    Alexander''s eyes gleamed with enthusiasm as he grasped Michael''s hand.


    "Time is not an issue here, my lord. This training ground was designed during the Final War to produce as many holy knights as possible. Here, ten days pass as only an hour in the outside world. The only drawback is that each person can only use this space once every three years."


    "Is that so?" Michael murmured, his hesitation fading. This could be a golden opportunity. After a brief moment of thought, he nodded firmly.


    "Then I''ll be in your care. But you mentioned the ''power of life'' earlier¡ªdoes that refer to aura?"


    Alexander''s expression grew serious as he explained. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Upon examining your aura flow, I noticed something unusual. During my time, knights etched mana holes across their entire bodies to channel power. But you seem to concentrate everything around your heart."


    Michael frowned thoughtfully. "That''s odd. I''m sure I''m not doing anything different from others."


    "That suggests the original method has been lost," Alexander concluded grimly. "The Radiance must have deliberately tampered with the process."


    After a pause, he sighed deeply. "Channeling aura solely through the heart is a simplified approach. It''s not ideal for anyone pursuing the path of a true knight."


    Michael''s voice carried a mixture of curiosity and anger as he asked, "What exactly is the Radiance? Why did it suppress power so aggressively?"


    Alexander lowered his gaze. "Even as the first commander of the Radiance''s Holy Knights, I didn''t know all their secrets. I only knew their goal was to eradicate all forms of mystery and power from the world."


    The room fell silent. Michael''s expression darkened.


    "No magic, no rituals, no knightly arts¡­ Is that the kind of world they wanted?"


    Alexander nodded solemnly. "First, they sought to eliminate the gods. Then came the other races, followed by mages and shamans. Their ultimate goal was a world devoid of all mystery. Tragically, many followed the Radiance without realizing its true intentions."


    Michael froze as he processed this revelation. His mind flickered to his ability to absorb powers¡ªwas this related somehow? Shaking off the thought, he refocused on the matter at hand.


    "Are you saying the Radiance left behind only degraded methods of aura training?"


    "Precisely," Alexander confirmed.


    A spark ignited in Michael''s eyes. "That means¡­"


    A surge of realization coursed through him. If Alexander''s words were true, he might be the only person alive with access to proper aura techniques.


    "Teach me immediately," Michael demanded, his determination unwavering.


    Recognizing Michael''s resolve, Alexander nodded. "First, we need to erase the flawed pathways etched into your body. It will be painful. Let me know when you''re ready."


    Michael didn''t hesitate. "I''m ready."


    Alexander guided Michael to sit cross-legged, ensuring his posture was straight. Michael braced himself for the pain to come.


    The process was excruciating. Beads of sweat formed on Michael''s brow as his breathing grew labored, but he endured the ordeal without so much as a groan. His unwavering focus and sheer willpower saw him through.


    When the procedure was finally complete, Michael''s face was pale, his body drenched in sweat.


    "I must say, I''m impressed, my lord. That was no easy feat," Alexander remarked, genuine admiration evident in his voice.


    "Is it done? What''s next?" Michael asked, his voice steady despite his exhaustion.


    "You''ll need to learn a new sword path. For most, it takes about a year to master using mana holes throughout the body," Alexander explained.


    "A year? So only about two days in the outside world¡­ I''d better inform my companions. They''re waiting for me," Michael noted.


    Alexander nodded. "I''ll relay the message through Lucrecia. She''s not particularly fond of me contacting her, but these are special circumstances."


    Michael raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Why doesn''t she like it? Did you get rejected or something?"


    Alexander''s expression turned sullen, confirming Michael''s guess.


    Ah¡­ He was rejected, Michael thought, awkwardly patting Alexander on the shoulder.


    "Well¡­ that''s all in the past now," Alexander muttered with a forced smile before regaining his composure. "Your message has been sent. Shall we begin?"

 Chapter 93 - 93 Altar

    What followed was grueling.


    Each day, Michael was pushed to his limits. The training involved unlearning old habits, refining his swordsmanship, and adjusting his aura pathways. By the end of each session, he would collapse from exhaustion.


    Alexander showed no mercy. Every day brought new challenges and pain, but Michael gritted his teeth and persevered.


    After six months of intense training, Michael collapsed onto the ground, panting heavily. His body was drenched in sweat, his muscles trembling from strain.


    Seeing that the training was complete, Alexander approached and offered his hand.


    "It has been an honor to train you, my lord. You''ve accomplished in six months what most would take a year to achieve. Your talent is truly remarkable," Alexander said, his blue eyes glinting with pride.


    Michael took his hand, a smile tugging at his lips.


    "It''s been an honor learning from you, Alexander."


    Thanks to the training, Michael''s aura no longer concentrated solely around his heart¡ªit now flowed seamlessly through his entire body. He felt stronger, more in control than ever before. The aura, once requiring focused effort to summon, now came as naturally as breathing.


    Michael knew this technique would turn the world upside down if it became widely known.


    Alexander, sensing Michael''s thoughts, spoke solemnly. "I have one request. Please promise me that the techniques I''ve taught you remain within your family. You are my final and greatest student, my lord."


    Placing a hand over his chest, Michael bowed deeply. "I, Michael von Crassus, swear to carry your legacy as your sole successor."


    Tears welled in Alexander''s eyes. "Such an honor¡­ Thank you, my lord. If you ever have children, bring them here. I''ll ensure your lineage carries this legacy forward."


    Michael nodded, gratitude evident in his expression. "Thank you, Alexander. I''ll never forget this debt. But must you remain bound here forever?"


    Alexander''s wistful smile hinted at a deeper sorrow.


    Bound by his contract with the goddess, Alexander sighed resignedly.


    "I have no choice but to follow the goddess''s will. Unless the gods descend again, I am tied to this place," he explained.


    Michael placed a reassuring hand on Alexander''s shoulder before pulling him into a firm embrace.


    "I can''t promise to visit often, but I''ll make sure to drop by when I can. And when I do, you''ll have to spar with me."


    His hug radiated warmth and solace, and Alexander hesitated briefly before awkwardly patting Michael''s back.


    "...Of course, my lord. It would be my honor," Alexander replied, his voice tinged with emotion.


    As they released each other, Michael took a step back, locking eyes with Alexander. The shared understanding and camaraderie built over six months of grueling training passed silently between them.


    Turning toward the exit of the training ground, Michael began walking away. Alexander stood silently, watching Michael''s retreating figure for a long moment.


    "My new lord¡­ may you remain strong and victorious always," he murmured to himself.


    Emerging from the training ground, Michael was greeted by Lucrecia''s familiar voice and welcoming smile.


    "Welcome back, my lord. Was your training fruitful?"


    "It was more than fruitful," Michael replied with a satisfied nod. "Where are the others?"


    "They are resting, my lord. Would you like me to summon them?"


    "That would be helpful, thank you."


    With a slight tilt of her head, Lucrecia sent gray mist billowing outward. Before long, the mist began to dissipate, revealing Michael''s companions one by one. Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    [Michael! You''re finally back! This place is amazing!] Miaomiao exclaimed, her tail flicking excitedly. [The hot springs made my fur so soft! You have to feel it!]


    She brushed her tail against Michael''s leg, and he picked her up, stroking her back with a smile. Miaomiao purred contentedly until her eyes locked onto Marcus.


    [Hiss! What are you staring at?]


    [Nothing, nothing, sister¡­ You''re just treated so differently than me...] Marcus muttered, his crest drooping in dejection.


    Their squabbling was interrupted by Alfred''s arrival. Refreshed and relaxed, he gave Michael an approving look.


    "Back already? I see you''ve accomplished much," Alfred observed.


    "Yes, though I can''t share all the details, I''ve gained something invaluable," Michael replied with a meaningful smile.


    "That''s all that matters. Let''s head back, then."


    After exchanging farewells with Lucrecia, the group prepared to depart.


    "Thank you for everything, Lucrecia. You''re bound to this place as well, aren''t you?" Michael asked.


    Lucrecia''s serene smile returned. "Yes, my lord. Like Alexander, I am tied here by my contract with the goddess."


    "What will you do now that the storerooms are empty?"


    "I will simply remain here. I can sleep in mist form when there''s nothing to tend to, so please do not worry about me."


    Michael placed a comforting hand on her slender shoulder and drew her into an embrace. Despite her missing limbs, she felt no different from any other person.


    "Take care, Lucrecia. I''ll visit when I can."


    Her radiant smile, free of its usual melancholy, lit up her face.


    "I will await your return, my lord."


    Michael turned toward his companions, ready to leave, but Lucrecia called out to him.


    "One moment, my lord. Your journey here was guided by the temple''s cornerstone, correct? That cornerstone is part of a paired offering altar," she explained.


    Michael looked back at her, intrigued.


    "The paired altars were used to transport offerings to the goddess. Originally, both were on the surface, but it seems one was repurposed for the castle."


    Lucrecia extended a tendril of mist toward the central hall.


    "The other altar lies there. Even in our time, it was considered ancient and relied on the power of the volcano below. You can use it to travel to the other altar''s location."


    Michael''s eyes lit up.


    If the altar connected the castle and the temple, it could serve as a critical evacuation route for his family and people in times of crisis.


    "We won''t become sacrifices using this thing, will we?" Michael asked, half-joking.


    Lucrecia''s tone turned defensive. "Not at all, my lord. While you trained, I altered its function to ensure your safety. However, the altar still requires the spiritual energy of the deceased offerings to activate¡ªonly for the first use, of course."

 Chapter 94 - 94 Visits

    Her explanation came hurriedly, as if bracing for accusations.


    "The souls have already ascended, so there''s no harm done," she added quickly.


    "And afterward?" Michael asked. "We won''t need souls to keep it running, will we?"


    "Not at all. Once the initial energy is expended, you''ll be able to power it using mana stones," Lucrecia assured him.


    "Good. What do I need to do?"


    "First, gather the remains from the other altar and bring them here. Once the offerings are in place, I''ll activate the magic circle."


    Michael and Alfred returned to the previous chamber and carefully collected the remains, along with their ancient garments and ornaments. The items might fetch a good price at the black market. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Marcus grumbled about his role as a makeshift cart but perked up when Michael offered him a few gems, his tail wagging with newfound enthusiasm.


    "Let''s get this over with!" Marcus exclaimed.


    The remains were piled before Lucrecia, and the group moved to the central hall. Lucrecia stretched her mist toward the altar, chanting in an ancient tongue.


    "¦Ê¦Á¦Ë?¦Ò?? ¦Ó?? ?¦Ñ¦Ö¦Á?¦Á? ¦Ä¦Ô¦Í?¦Ì¦Å¦É?!"


    As a familiar pulling sensation enveloped them, the group found themselves standing in a dry, cold underground chamber. The water was gone, leaving the floor pristine and dry.


    [Wow¡­ This is incredible,] Miaomiao said, her eyes glimmering. [Even the imperial palace wouldn''t have magic circles like this. They say it can transport dozens of people at once!]


    "It could prove invaluable in a war," Alfred noted.


    Michael nodded. "Yes, it''s a perfect hideout."


    Taking the lead, Michael climbed the stairs to the surface.


    "Let''s inspect the castle''s structure and figure out what repairs are needed. At least we don''t have to worry about any more curses."


    The inspection didn''t take long. By nightfall, Michael and his group returned to the castle, only to find Dominic waiting with a grim expression.


    "There are signs of war brewing," Dominic announced urgently. "Mages and knights from the capital have arrived. We need to convene in the war room immediately."


    Michael and Dominic strode purposefully through the castle''s grand corridor, their conversation low but urgent.


    "Wizards and knights from the capital, you said? They''re the ones claiming war is on the horizon?" Michael asked, his brow furrowed.


    Dominic nodded, pushing open the door at the end of the corridor to reveal a passage leading to the reception hall.


    "Yes. There were no signs when they first set out, but along the way, news kept arriving¡ªhints of unrest, supply stockpiling, and most alarmingly, the empire''s ambassador has returned home. It''s not official yet, but the pieces are falling into place."


    Michael''s gaze hardened as he followed his father through the candle lit hallway.


    "If that''s the case, we need to expedite the relocation plans. Are all the key figures already in the meeting room? And where are the rest of the visitors staying?"


    Dominic sighed heavily, his exhaustion seeping into his voice.


    "We''re overrun with entourages. The knights'' retainers have set up tents in the training yard, while the wizards are staying in village inns or requisitioned houses."


    "Well done," Michael replied, nodding. "No sense housing them together¡ªthey''d only end up at each other''s throats."


    The two continued walking through the long passage adorned with portraits of family ancestors. Dominic glanced wistfully at the paintings, his voice tinged with melancholy.


    "It''s hard to leave a place so familiar, but with my title rising and the territory expanding, our forebears would surely understand."


    After a moment of quiet reflection, he spoke with renewed energy.


    "By the way, the heads of both groups are eager to see the sphinx and the dragon. They''ve been clamoring about it all day."


    Michael interrupted firmly.


    "We don''t need to cater to their every whim, Father. We must maintain the upper hand here."


    Dominic''s expression shifted, momentarily tinged with regret.


    "You''re right, of course. I acted hastily¡ªhaving so many important people descend on us at once caught me off guard."


    Michael placed a reassuring hand on his father''s shoulder.


    "Anyone would have been overwhelmed in your place. Just remember: we''re the ones in a position to grant favors, not them."


    Dominic straightened his posture, drawing confidence from his son''s steady tone.


    "Understood. I''ll see to it they wait for us in the audience chamber."


    "Good. Keep up the air of authority," Michael advised, watching as his father walked away, his confidence visibly restored.


    Once Dominic had gone, Alfred approached Michael, his footsteps slow and deliberate.


    "Grandfather, you should rest. The maids will show you to the guest quarters where Uncle Godric and Aunt Sophia are staying."


    "They''ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival, and I''m sure you''d enjoy catching up," Michael added with a small smile.


    Alfred inclined his head. "Very well. I''ll go now. But take care, Michael¡ªdon''t overwork yourself."


    His voice was laden with genuine concern as he departed.


    Left alone for the moment, Michael sank into the sofa, letting its plush comfort soothe his weary body. The faint scent of lavender filled the room, a small luxury that helped ease his fatigue.


    Soon, Elizabeth entered, her golden hair gleaming in the soft light.


    "You''re back," she greeted warmly. "How was the castle? What''s its condition?"


    "It''s in surprisingly good shape, Sister," Michael replied, sitting up straighter. "The scale is immense¡ªabout four times larger than this one. It has plenty of guest rooms and separate annexes for additional accommodations."


    Elizabeth''s shoulders visibly relaxed, a relieved smile spreading across her face.


    "That''s excellent news. I was worried about budgeting for extensive repairs, but it sounds like that won''t be necessary." She tilted her head curiously. "Did you manage to draw up the plans?"


    "Yes. Leonardo gave me a measuring tool that sped up the process considerably. The floor plans and measurements are all here."


    Michael retrieved the plans from his dimensional pouch and handed them over. Elizabeth examined the detailed drawings, her eyes widening in admiration.


    "Where does he even come up with these inventions? That man must be a genius," she remarked. "You were fortunate to bring him into the family¡ªhe must have cost you dearly."

 Chapter 95 - 95 Hook, Line, and Sinker!

    Michael shook his head modestly. "He''s family now. Helping each other is only natural."


    Elizabeth''s smile wavered, and a shadow passed over her features.


    "Not every family works that way, Michael," she murmured, her voice carrying a trace of bitterness.


    Michael fell silent, sensing the weight of unspoken memories.


    Elizabeth recovered quickly, brightening as she redirected the conversation.


    "Anyway, let me know if you have any special requests for your quarters at the new castle."


    "Actually, I''d like two extra rooms attached to my suite¡ªfor Miaomiao and Isper to use."


    Elizabeth chuckled. "Of course. A main bedroom with an adjoining sitting room, two guest bedrooms, and a dressing room should suffice, don''t you think?"


    "That would be perfect. Thank you, Sister," Michael replied with a grateful nod.


    She smiled, pleased to fulfill her brother''s request.


    "What about Marcus''s lair? Should we move the existing one or build a new one?"


    "The current lair should do, but it needs to be moved in his presence¡ªhe''s very possessive about his things," Michael warned.


    Elizabeth laughed softly, brushing her golden locks back with a graceful motion.


    "A dragon''s nature, I suppose. Though I must admit, even my hair isn''t safe from his covetous gaze," she teased, her tone light.


    Michael chuckled, standing as Elizabeth prepared to leave.


    "Shall I have some light refreshments sent in?" she offered.


    "That would be wonderful. Thank you, Sister."


    Elizabeth nodded, gliding out of the room with a poise that reminded Michael just how fortunate he was to have her.


    Left alone once more, he began organizing his thoughts, mentally reviewing the tasks that lay ahead.


    The arrival of the capital''s mages had been perfectly timed; he could assign them to oversee repairs in the village. It wasn''t the work they were accustomed to, but they''d have to make do.


    A while later, a well-rested Miaomiao and Marcus entered the reception room, both looking refreshed and prepared. Michael stood, having just finished the sandwiches and tea brought in by the maids.


    The timing was perfect¡ªit was finally time to make their entrance.


    Following Michael''s instructions, Miaomiao and Marcus had dressed to impress. Whatever awaited them in the audience chamber, Michael was ready to take control of the situation.


    Marcus stood proudly adorned with sparkling jewels on each claw, his golden reins catching the light like a parade of wealth. While Marcus basked in the splendor of his flamboyant attire, Miaomiao''s mood was far less cheerful. She wore an emerald circlet on her forehead and looked utterly displeased.


    "Come on, Miaomiao, don''t scowl like that. It suits you perfectly!" Michael chuckled, finding her grumpy expression utterly endearing.


    [Exactly, Sister! If you don''t like it, give it to me!] Marcus teased, his eyes gleaming with mischief.


    [Hiss! Who said I don''t like it?] Miaomiao snapped back, her fur bristling as she bared her sharp teeth at Marcus.


    As always, Marcus''s playful needling worked wonders to rouse Miaomiao from her sulking. Michael intervened before their banter escalated further.


    "Alright, that''s enough, you two. We need to focus. This is an important moment." Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Hearing the firmness in his voice, both creatures straightened their postures and fell in line behind him, their playful antics momentarily set aside.


    As they approached the audience chamber, the sound of heated arguments leaked through the heavy wooden doors. Michael gestured for the guards to open them, and the scene inside confirmed the chaos.


    "We were here first! As wizards from the esteemed Mage Tower, we absolutely cannot tolerate these knights overstepping their bounds!"


    The speaker, a wizard with a long beard that nearly brushed his waist, glared furiously at the opposing group, his face red with indignation.


    "Overstepping? Can''t you see our beasts waiting outside? It''s clear the Sphinx should be researched first, while we take the dragon!" retorted a knight, his tone a mix of anger and urgency.


    The wizard scoffed. "And you think this dire political situation calls for breeding experiments? If anyone should have priority, it''s us!"


    "Breeding experiments? Don''t be absurd! The dragon''s potential is wasted on your so-called research. It''s far better suited to bolster military strength!"


    Their arguments escalated into a near-shouting match. Meanwhile, Dominic sat at the head of the table, visibly exhausted as he tried¡ªand failed¡ªto mediate.


    Michael stood for a moment, observing the unruly scene. His calm demeanor was in stark contrast to the cacophony around him. He walked purposefully toward the high seat, Miaomiao and Marcus flanking him like regal guardians.


    All eyes turned to Michael as he entered the chamber. His steady stride and the imposing presence of his companions immediately drew attention.


    "Gentlemen, please," Michael said, his voice low but commanding. "Take your seats. No matter how much you argue, the decision lies with us. Save your energy."


    His warning carried weight. Even Miaomiao and Marcus added their own expressions of displeasure¡ªMiaomiao''s eyes gleamed with an intimidating glow, while Marcus let his claws scrape audibly against the stone floor.


    The effect was immediate. Wizards and knights alike hesitated before slowly returning to their seats, the tension in the room palpable.


    One of the wizards was the first to break the silence, though his tone was laced with frustration.


    "This is not what we agreed upon! We were assured access to the Sphinx and dragon for research purposes¡ª"


    "Enough!" Michael interrupted sharply.


    "Was that truly the agreement? Or are you conveniently forgetting the terms? Let me remind everyone here: the agreement was contingent upon your assistance with the development of the new territory. Tell me, what contributions have you made so far?"


    The wizard faltered, his confidence shaken. Indeed, they hadn''t lifted a finger to assist yet.


    Sensing an opportunity, a knight rose from his seat.


    "We''ve already paid significant sums! Surely, that entitles us to priority access¡ª"


    "Paid?" Michael raised an eyebrow, taking a deliberate step toward the knight. "Did you think Marcus was for sale? Let''s be clear: your payments were investments in the territory, nothing more."


    Michael retrieved a copy of the contract from his dimensional pouch and held it up for all to see.


    "It''s all here in writing: ''Funds provided are investments in the territory''s development, to be reimbursed over a century as the land prospers.'' Your payments do not grant you ownership or special privileges."


    The knight opened his mouth to protest but hesitated, unsure of how to counter.


    "Yes, you''ll receive dragon blood," Michael continued, his tone even, "but only once the territory is fully developed."


    He turned to the assembled knights, meeting their gazes one by one.


    "Now, here''s a proposal: if war does break out, any knight who aids us until its conclusion will receive a flask of dragon blood as compensation."


    The room fell silent, the weight of Michael''s words sinking in.


    "For those unwilling to join us in battle, you may still receive your investment returns over a century¡ªor, alternatively, contribute directly to the territory''s development. However, with war looming, the timeline for development will likely stretch significantly."


    The knights exchanged uneasy glances, their faces betraying a mix of frustration and resignation.


    Michael shook the contract again for emphasis.


    "Let me remind you of another clause: any offspring produced from Marcus''s dragon blood will belong to our house. You agreed to this when you signed."


    He smiled faintly as the knights'' expressions soured further. Meanwhile, the wizards smirked, finding some schadenfreude in their rivals'' predicament.


    But Michael wasn''t done.


    "Now, as for the esteemed wizards," he said, turning to them, "your work begins tomorrow. Those who are prepared to assist in the territory''s development first thing in the morning will have the privilege of riding on Marcus''s back."


    The room erupted into murmurs as the wizards processed his words. The chance to ride a dragon was a rare and coveted opportunity.


    Michael''s smile widened ever so slightly.


    Hook, line, and sinker.

 Chapter 96 - 96 Re-awakening of Arnan

    Late at night, Michael climbed the stairs, his body weighed down with fatigue after a lengthy meeting. Though he had outlined a plan to utilize the mages, he still doubted its feasibility.


    As he reached the corridor at the top of the stairs, Alfred stood in his path.


    "We need to go somewhere together," Alfred said.


    Michael hesitated briefly before nodding. His grandfather wouldn''t ask something harmful of him¡ªthere must be a reason.


    The two mounted Marcus and soared into the sky, eventually arriving at an old graveyard where they had once dug up a mandrake.


    "This is the burial ground for executioners of the old Holy Kingdom," Alfred explained. "Later, executioners from the Pamir Empire were also buried here."


    Michael''s eyes lit up. Executioners from both the Holy Kingdom and the Pamir Empire? Just recalling a few names, he was already overwhelmed by their renown. S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Does that mean the legendary reformer Arnan of the Holy Kingdom is buried here?" Michael asked eagerly.


    "Exactly. The greatest genius of the Holy Kingdom and an emblem of misfortune," Alfred replied.


    Michael remembered Arnan''s legend¡ªa man whose every reformative idea touched the Holy Kingdom''s most sensitive nerve, ultimately leading to his execution.


    "According to legend, he was buried beneath a stone engraved with the symbol of the saint he adored in life," Alfred added.


    Carrying magical lamps, the two began searching for the saint''s symbol. Time passed before Michael discovered an emblem shaped like an anemone flower. The two exchanged a glance, lifted the stone, and dug tirelessly into the ground.


    Soon, a crumbling coffin emerged. Michael opened its lid, releasing a cloud of acrid dust. Inside lay a decayed corpse, its head and body separated.


    Placing his hand on the brittle skull, Michael called out,


    "Resurrectionis electio!"


    The skull reattached itself to the body, flesh began regenerating, and a miraculous transformation unfolded. Moments later, a man with plain brown hair sat upright in the coffin, his sharp gaze fixed on Michael.


    "Who awakened me? What is it you seek from me?" the man asked sternly.


    Clutching his head as if overwhelmed, the man soon knelt before Michael.


    "My apologies for not recognizing my lord immediately upon awakening. I am Arnan, a reformer from the Holy Kingdom, a man who once knew and understood all things."


    Michael extended his hand to Arnan. With this man, he thought, he could fully utilize the mages.


    The training grounds of Crassus Castle buzzed with activity early in the morning. It was packed with master-level mages ranked at Level 5 and above, along with their apprentices.


    "Master, please sit down and have something to eat. You''ve been standing for too long¡ªyou''ll harm your health," one apprentice pleaded.


    "Sit? When the chance to ride a dragon is at stake? Look at those crazy old fools up front," the master grumbled. "I came here at one in the morning, and yet this is what I get."


    "What else could we have done? Word has it that five masters pitched tents and camped out here as soon as Michael finished speaking yesterday. We underestimated them."


    "Crazy old fools! That''s what they are¡ªcrazy old fools!"


    This was Elias, a master of the earth magic school, who staunchly believed he didn''t belong in the "crazy old fool" category.


    "Still, there''s hope. What is our specialty? Earth magic. Surely, we''ll be invaluable for the development of new territory, and we''ll get to ride the dragon," his apprentice offered optimistically.


    "That''s the problem¡ªwe assumed that and ended up like this. Michael did say it would be first-come, first-served..."


    "From what I''ve seen, Michael isn''t an inflexible person. Negotiations should be possible," the apprentice reassured.


    "You think so? Riding a dragon¡­ what a rare experience that would be. Where else could we ever do such a thing?"


    Similar conversations buzzed all around the grounds.


    Meanwhile, Dionysus, one of the masters who had camped out last night, perked up his ears as he overheard the discussions.


    "What? The earth magic school thinks they have an advantage? I won''t stand for that!"


    As a master of the water magic school, Dionysus couldn''t help but feel insecure. Even he wasn''t sure what role his school could play in developing new lands.


    "Calm down, Master. That''s why we came here first. We''ll get to ride the dragon," his apprentice said reassuringly.


    "Hmm, yes. Your suggestion to sleep here turned out to be brilliant. Well done," Dionysus said, his mood brightening.


    The gates of the castle creaked open, prompting Dionysus to leap to his feet.


    "They''re coming out. Ugh, my back..." he groaned, as his apprentice Rahela gently patted his back.


    Michael surveyed the mass of mages assembled on the training grounds and sighed.


    Did they all want to ride a dragon so badly? It seemed every mage in the castle was here. Many even looked disheveled, as if they had slept here. Why were even the elderly so eager?


    Nearby, Miaomiao, his feline companion, licked her paw and muttered,


    [You''ve underestimated their thirst for knowledge. Mages would sell their souls to explore something new.]


    "Yeah... I must''ve oversimplified things. Marcus?" Michael called.


    Still groggy from the previous night''s outing, Marcus mumbled,


    [What is it?]


    "It seems you''ll need to make a few trips back and forth to the new territory. Can you handle it?"


    Marcus yawned widely, extending a paw.


    [As long as there''s proper compensation, I don''t mind.]


    Michael shot a glare at Miaomiao. She had clearly corrupted Marcus with her influence!


    "Of course. We can''t have our precious Marcus working without compensation. How about charging 500 gold per mage? They''re all quite wealthy and can afford it. I''ll split the earnings with you. How''s that sound?"


    Michael ignored Miaomiao''s look of shock as Marcus''s eyes lit up.


    [That''s a great idea.]


    But how much would 500 gold per mage add up to? Marcus tilted his head quizzically.


    "Don''t worry," Michael said with a grin, patting Marcus''s wing. "I''ll handle the calculations and make sure you''re paid. Oh, by the way, Marcus, have you ever heard of investing? It''s when ten gold turns into eleven over ten years..."

 Chapter 97 - 97 Collect Donations For Marcus

    Miaomiao nodded approvingly. She herself was already engaged in such investments. As Marcus''s elder sister figure, she felt proud of his newfound opportunities.


    Under Michael''s orders, soldiers began organizing the mages into lines.


    "As per the conditions I set yesterday, everyone who gathered here before we arrived will get a chance to ride Marcus to the new territory," Michael announced.


    Scanning the crowd, he continued,


    "Marcus can carry up to 150 people at once, but doing so would ruin the essence of what it means to ride a dragon, wouldn''t it?" sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The gathered mages nodded in agreement.


    It wasn''t just about riding a dragon; the mages were here to observe and conduct research.


    "That''s why the journey will require multiple trips," Michael explained. "However, given the sheer number of people gathered, some negotiation seems necessary." He shook his head in feigned exasperation, prompting an impatient mage to ask,


    "What kind of negotiation? Can''t we just do this on a first come, first served basis?"


    Mages who had arrived late, knowing they would lose under such a rule, shouted their protests from all directions.


    "How can we compete with those who camped here all night? That would be utterly unfair!"


    Michael raised his hand to calm the crowd.


    "I am a man of my word," he assured them. "All you need to do is provide a modest contribution for Marcus''s efforts."


    The crowd quieted, reassured that no one would be excluded from riding the dragon.


    "As you know," Michael continued, "dragons love building nests. Therefore, we''ll collect donations for Marcus''s nest. 500 gold per person should suffice."


    The mages, most of whom came from wealthy families and enjoyed substantial earnings even after becoming mages, found the suggestion reasonable.


    "That sounds fair. Where do we pay the 500 gold?" one mage asked.


    "Soldiers will come around with chests," Michael said. "Please deposit your 500 gold into the chests as they pass."


    Soldiers moved through the crowd in pairs, carrying large chests. Masters of schools and 9th tier mages alike paid the same fee¡ª500 gold each.


    "What about the first ride?" a mage asked eagerly.


    Michael paused before responding.


    "For the first ride, I hope for significant research results. Isn''t everyone here eager to study how the dragon spreads its wings or rides the wind?"


    The master of the Aeromancy school nodded.


    "Precisely. For us, who specialize in flight magic, observing a dragon''s flight will lead to remarkable breakthroughs."


    Not to be outdone, the master of the Celestial school interjected,


    "It''s also a rare opportunity to observe atmospheric flow from above. We of the Celestial school would like priority as well."


    The master of the Aquamancy school, who had been first in line, protested,


    "That''s absurd! The first ride should be based on order of arrival."


    Michael reassured him with a thoughtful suggestion.


    "What if we prioritize masters and their assistants? After all, meaningful research is more likely to come from those at the master level."


    The proposal received unanimous approval. No one minded if assistants or others came later.


    "Masters, please bring one assistant and step forward," Michael instructed.


    There were 40 masters present, each accompanied by an assistant, making a total of 80 people. This number allowed ample space for observation during the dragon''s flight.


    After successfully "selling" seats, Marcus took off. As the dragon ascended, the masters busily began their research, moving about the broad expanse of its back.


    Michael watched the elderly masters with admiration. Their passion at their age was truly impressive.


    One master approached him¡ªDionysus of the Aquamancy school.


    "Thank you for this extraordinary experience. I am Dionysus, master of the Aquamancy school."


    Michael regarded him curiously, prompting the older man to clear his throat.


    "Well, about our contribution to the development of the new territory¡­ If our school''s skills aren''t particularly needed, I''d like to offer financial support to make up for it."


    Ah, Michael thought, he''s worried that being deemed unhelpful will exclude his school from further opportunities. Smiling, Michael replied,


    "You don''t need to worry about that. The Aquamancy school will handle cleaning up the village¡ªkeeping it tidy and functional."


    Dionysus froze momentarily, his expression betraying his disbelief. The great Aquamancy school reduced to cleaners? But he quickly recovered, realizing it would be his apprentices doing the work, not him.


    "That''s a relief. My apprentices came along, so while they''re busy, I can focus on my research, right?"


    "Of course," Michael said magnanimously. "Masters will only need to provide minimal assistance in times of war. In return, you''ll receive dragon ichor under the same terms as the knights."


    Dionysus brightened at this. The promise of dragon ichor was worth any inconvenience, even if "minimal assistance" left him slightly uneasy.


    "I''d prefer ichor from a Sphinx dragon, if possible," Dionysus said.


    Michael leaned toward Miaomiao, perched on his shoulder, and whispered. The feline''s tail bristled as she glared at Dionysus.


    [Think about it, Miaomiao. Dragon ichor regenerates. This is a golden opportunity to make a profit.]


    After a moment of consideration, Miaomiao sighed.


    [Fine. If living a luxurious life as a Sphinx means this, so be it. But make sure to invest the proceeds wisely.]


    "Then let''s finalize the agreement," Michael said, as Julian, his steward, presented a contract.


    Dionysus eagerly pressed his seal onto the document before returning to his research, casting a greedy glance at Miaomiao.


    Word spread quickly, and other masters approached to negotiate similar terms. By the time Michael was done, every master had signed a contract. He entrusted Julian with safeguarding the documents, confident they would secure the territory''s safety and military contributions in times of need.


    With Michael overseeing the contracts, half the credit for any contributions by knights or mages would ultimately go to him.


    The flight to the new territory was brief. The masters disembarked reluctantly, shaking their heads at the missed opportunity for extended observation. They resolved to send their apprentices to begin work as soon as possible.


    ...


    AN: I was planning to end the mass release here, but since I received so many reviews and feedback, I''ll just give you everything I have right now.

 Chapter 98 - 98 Assigning Tasks

    Marcus took off again, heading back to fetch the apprentices.


    Standing beside Michael, now dressed in a servant''s garb, was Arnan. Though both were fatigued from their overnight meeting, their eyes gleamed with determination.


    Arnan, in particular, seemed elated at the chance to achieve the reforms he could never realize in his previous life. His dream of using magic to improve lives had been the very reason for his execution in the Holy Kingdom.


    As Arnan marveled at this new opportunity, he silently expressed his gratitude to his lord. Michael, the one who had resurrected him and would help him fulfill his vision, began to speak.


    The plan that Michael and Arnan had carefully devised the night before was now ready for implementation. Michael stood in the empty village square, overgrown with weeds, and addressed the masters gathered before him.


    "Alright, let''s assign tasks!" his voice rang out.


    He turned to the Pyromancy school first.


    "Pyromancy school! You will collaborate with the Geomancy school to produce bricks. Can you do it?"


    The Pyromancy master, Vulkan, looked at the Geomancy master in confusion.


    Bricks? How are we supposed to make bricks?


    Seeing their puzzled expressions, Michael elaborated with a smile.


    "The Geomancy school will extract clay and soil from the ground and mold it into brick shapes. After that, the Pyromancy school will dry and fire the bricks to complete the process."


    Michael paused and pointed toward the distant mountains.


    "The clay can be sourced from the lakes and highlands beyond the mountains. It''s the perfect environment for extracting mud and sand. Simple, right?"


    An awkward silence fell over the group.


    What kind of nonsense is this? Vulkan stepped forward, voicing his objection.


    "We''ve never done anything like this! We don''t even know how to make bricks!"


    His frustration resonated with the other masters, who nodded in agreement. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael, unfazed, looked straight at Vulkan and said with an air of confidence,


    "Brickmakers will arrive today to teach you the basics. Once you use magic, the process will speed up considerably. The more you practice, the better you''ll get."


    He added casually, as if it were the simplest thing in the world,


    "We''re not rebuilding the entire village from scratch, just making some repairs. You''ll only need about ten million bricks."


    Ten million?! Is that a name or a quantity?


    While the Pyromancy and Geomancy schools grappled with the sheer scale of the task, Michael moved on.


    "Next, the Hydromancy school! You''ll work with the Mist school to clean the polluted village, castle, and house interiors."


    Pausing to catch his breath, Michael continued,


    "The Hydromancy school will use high pressure water to remove dirt, and the Mist school will handle the finer cleaning and drying."


    Yurik, the master of the Mist school, looked alarmed and started to step forward, but Michael raised a hand to stop him.


    "I know you can do it," Michael said firmly.


    "The Mist school''s magic can handle both cleaning and drying. There are three more villages of a similar size. You''ll start as soon as the apprentices arrive."


    Yurik hesitated, but eventually retreated without a word.


    The masters turned to look at the village. Its massive scale left them speechless. There are three more villages like this?


    It''s possible, they thought, exchanging glances, but we''ll have to work the apprentices to the bone.


    Michael noted their reactions with a glance and moved on to the next task. He was pleased to see the wisdom in separating the apprentices from their masters; the apprentices would be the ones doing the hard labor, while the masters merely supervised from a distance.


    "Metallurgy school, Cryomancy school, and Volcanology school!"


    The named masters straightened nervously as Michael''s gaze swept over them.


    "The lake above us contains volcanic activity, so there''s a good chance groundwater flows beneath the village."


    Michael gestured toward the ground, drawing all eyes downward.


    "The Volcanology school will detect the groundwater first. Then, using magic circles, you''ll channel geothermal energy to create hot water flows."


    Kuohto, the oldest master of the Volcanology school, stepped forward, his face grim.


    "That will require an astronomical number of mana stones. It''s possible, but where are we supposed to get so many?"


    Michael chuckled lightly.


    "Have you forgotten? Marcus is a red dragon and can summon fire spirits. Use them."


    His next words made the Volcanology masters flinch.


    "Also, I know you have lava crystals. Each one can be exchanged for a vial of dragon or Sphinx ichor. What do you think?"


    Kuohto''s eyes lit up. Fire spirits and lava crystals? That would allow for perpetual energy production.


    Sure, the fire spirits would be sacrificed and trapped underground as energy sources, but who cares about their plight? The other masters were plotting to work their apprentices to exhaustion¡ªwhat rights did spirits have in such a world?


    Satisfied with the Volcanology school''s reluctant agreement, Michael turned to the Cryomancy school.


    "Cryomancy school!"


    Aurora, their representative master, raised her head nervously at his call.


    "You''ll create wells for the groundwater to flow through. Freeze the ground to stabilize the structure, then melt it to excavate," Michael explained.


    Whew. That doesn''t sound too bad, Aurora thought, feeling a moment of relief. This task seemed simpler than she had feared.


    But her relief was short lived.


    "You''ll only need to dig down about 1 to 2 kilometers to channel the geothermal energy effectively. It shouldn''t be too difficult right?" Michael added nonchalantly.


    "Don''t forget to coordinate with the Volcanology school to reinforce the ground," he said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.


    Why don''t you try it yourself, you bastard!


    Aurora barely restrained the urge to hurl her staff at him. Her frustration dissipated, however, when she caught sight of Miaomiao lazily wagging her tail, exuding an air of indifference.


    This wasn''t going to be easy, but there was no turning back now.


    As Michael observed Aurora''s shifting expressions while assigning her tasks, he swiftly moved on to the next group before she reached her limits

 Chapter 99 - 99 Well Figure It Out By Overworking The Apprentices

    "Metallurgy school!" he called out. "Master of Metallurgy, your task is to create copper pipes and work with the Volcanology and Cryomancy schools to install plumbing for groundwater flow."


    The Metallurgy master, known for his adventurous spirit, lit up with excitement.


    "The pipes must ultimately connect the excavated wells to the castle''s central well and every well in the village," Michael explained.


    The master furrowed his brow in thought before asking,


    "Won''t this interfere with the moat''s water supply?"


    "We''re not planning to raise fish in the moat, so it doesn''t matter," Michael replied curtly, keeping further details to himself.


    This task was part of Michael''s broader strategy. He envisioned using the groundwater system to establish defensive measures, set magical traps, boil the moat to repel invaders, create large-scale greenhouses for exotic crops, or refine minerals. He also planned to convert geothermal energy into mana using a magical converter he had instructed Leonardo to design.


    The three schools'' masters exchanged uncertain glances before nodding reluctantly. Their shared thought: We''ll figure it out by overworking the apprentices. S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael''s voice rang out again.


    "Aeromancy and Biomancy schools!"


    The masters of both schools immediately focused their attention.


    "The Aeromancy school will work with Marcus," Michael began.


    At the mention of Marcus, all eyes turned to him.


    "When Marcus breathes fire, you''ll manipulate the wind to burn and gather all the weeds and fallen leaves in the village. Precision is key to prevent wildfires."


    The Aeromancy master, gripping his staff, trembled with excitement. Michael briefly worried that the man might have a heart attack from sheer enthusiasm.


    "Additionally," Michael continued, "Marcus''s accumulated waste will be delivered shortly. Combine it with the weeds and ashes to create fertilizer with the Biomancy school."


    The Biomancy master''s eyes widened, his excitement barely contained. He seemed on the verge of dancing with joy until Michael raised a hand to calm him.


    "The Biomancy school will inject nutrients into the fermented mixture and add elements essential for plant growth. Using organic magic, this should be entirely feasible. Am I correct?"


    "Of course! This is a tremendous honor!" the Biomancy master exclaimed passionately, his eyes gleaming.


    "Until now, we''ve only sold fertilizer made from animal or monster droppings. Dragon manure is groundbreaking! It''ll be immune to any pests or diseases!"


    Watching the Biomancy master''s exuberance, Michael smiled. Just as expected.


    "Good," Michael said. "Coordinate with the Aeromancy school to determine the optimal fermentation and drying speeds. Adjust the temperature using wind manipulation."


    After giving the Biomancy and Aeromancy schools a moment to calm down, Michael added,


    "Also, research how to maximize efficiency. Dragon waste is limited, after all."


    Everyone nodded, especially the Biomancy master, who seemed moved to tears at the mere thought of working with dragon waste. To him, this was a revolution in the field of fertilizer production.


    "Of course! We can''t afford to waste such a precious resource!"


    Other masters glanced enviously at the Aeromancy and Biomancy schools. Working alongside a dragon was an unparalleled opportunity, and their murmured complaints betrayed their jealousy.


    Meanwhile, Miaomiao, perched on Michael''s shoulder, facepalmed and stared at Marcus. Despite the public discussion of his droppings, Marcus seemed blissfully indifferent.


    Well¡­ at least he doesn''t care about "dragon rights" issues, Miaomiao thought with a sigh.


    Michael ignored Miaomiao''s sigh and moved on to the final assignments.


    "Lastly¡­ Aeromancy and Beast mastery schools!"


    The masters'' attention snapped back to him.


    "Beastmasters will collaborate with the knights to transport materials and supplies using the beasts they''ve brought. I trust no one understands the unique traits and capabilities of these beasts better than your school."


    Given the variety of creatures and their individual strengths, this collaboration was essential for efficiency.


    "I''ve already coordinated with the knights, so work with them to find the best methods for each beast," Michael concluded, studying the masters'' reactions.


    As expected, they didn''t look thrilled about working alongside knights. Anticipating this, Michael offered an enticing incentive.


    "If this task is completed successfully, you''ll be granted the honor of participating in dragon ichor-assisted breeding projects."


    At this, the Beastmastery masters'' faces lit up. Observing and assisting with dragon ichor breeding was a lifelong dream for many in their field.


    Michael allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. He had also promised the knights that the Beastmasters would assist with breeding if they loaned out their beasts. As long as both parties benefited, all was well.


    The Beastmastery masters, now brimming with enthusiasm, began envisioning their breeding plans.


    Michael turned his attention to the Aeromancy masters.


    "Aeromancy school, your task is to assist with material transportation using flight and gravity magic."


    Given their expertise, they were perfect for the job.


    "Move the materials to the right places as quickly as possible. Marcus will occasionally assist with transportation as well, so I expect your cooperation."


    Though initially disgruntled at being reduced to "haulers," the Aeromancy masters'' expressions brightened at the prospect of collaborating with Marcus. Michael''s carefully crafted words had minimized their resistance.


    With all tasks assigned, Michael finally allowed himself a moment of rest. He entered an empty house and sank into a chair, his body weary from the day''s efforts.


    Arnan followed him quietly inside.


    "I''ll get to see all these plans come to life," Arnan said, bowing deeply. His voice was filled with genuine respect. "Thank you, my lord."


    Michael looked at him with gratitude.


    "I should be thanking you. None of this would''ve been possible without the details you provided. My ideas were nothing more than rough sketches."


    Arnan shook his head modestly, his eyes shining.


    "Not at all. You''ve come up with things I never would have imagined. I''m thrilled to have finally found a true master to serve."


    Michael''s lips twitched. Do demons naturally develop a talent for flattery? Regardless, as long as Arnan remained loyal, it was all that mattered.


    Outside, the masters were loudly discussing how to carry out their tasks. Their voices faded into the background as Michael mused to himself.


    Which corpse should I dig up tonight?

 Chapter 100 - 100 Resurrectionis electio! Rabouin

    Alfred and Michael flew on Marcus toward the familiar graveyard¡ªa treasure trove, as far as Michael was concerned. Alfred''s earlier investigations into the graves of the Draigo mountain range had been based on the legend that mandrakes grew by feeding on the blood of executed individuals.


    "Thank you so much, Grandfather. Thanks to you, I''ll be able to recruit many talented individuals," Michael said gratefully.


    "Helping my grandson is only natural," Alfred replied, smiling warmly at him.


    "Have you decided which condemned soul you''ll revive today?" Alfred asked.


    Michael beamed as he revealed his plan.


    "Yes. Today, I''ll revive Rabouin, a scholar from the Holy Kingdom. He was executed as a heretic, but his expertise could be invaluable to the territory."


    Michael thought of Rabouin, the man who had introduced the concept of chemistry to the world. He imagined Rabouin developing gunpowder, with Marcus and flying beasts carrying out aerial bombardments. Just the thought made Michael smile.


    "After all, isn''t it said that highly advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic?" Michael mused. Since Rabouin''s execution, the world had seen almost no progress in chemistry. Introducing gunpowder as a new "magic" would likely arouse no suspicion.


    "Rabouin, eh? He lived around 700 years ago," Alfred said thoughtfully. "We should look for graves built in the style of that era."


    "Yes," Michael agreed. "Rabouin had many disciples, so even if he was executed, they would''ve ensured he received a proper burial."


    Michael pondered further before adding,


    "The burial style of that period involved carving symbols representing the deceased. As a scholar, Rabouin''s grave should be marked with a book."


    Alfred looked at his grandson with pride.


    "You''ve remembered what I taught you."


    "Of course," Michael said, scratching his head sheepishly. "I''ll eventually inherit your role as an executioner, after all."


    "Marcus, we''ll soon reach the mandrake habitat from before. Land there," Michael instructed.


    [This is the third time already. I know where it is,] Marcus grumbled, swishing his spiked tail irritably.


    Michael patted Marcus''s wing in a soothing gesture.


    "I know, I know. Our Marcus is a master navigator. You''ve been working hard helping me every night, haven''t you? Just hang in there a little longer. I''ll reward you with a pearl after today''s task."


    Rejuvenated by the promise, Marcus perked up and flapped his wings with renewed vigor. S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    [We''ve arrived. The ground here feels sticky. It''s unpleasant.]


    "When we return, I''ll have the servants bathe you thoroughly. A soak in the lake will make you feel better," Michael assured.


    [Make sure they soap me properly, too.]


    Given Marcus''s size, even using diluted soap would require at least two bars. Michael''s lips twitched at the thought of the expense but quickly relaxed. Such trivial costs no longer concerned him.


    "Of course, bathing in your full form will feel far better," Michael replied.


    [Obviously. It''s a hundred times better,] Marcus said.


    "Alright, Marcus. Wait here for now," Michael instructed.


    [Finish quickly. The ground is too sticky for me to lie down,] Marcus complained.


    After giving Marcus a reassuring pat, Michael gathered the necessary tools with Alfred. Excavating a 700-year-old sarcophagus would require proper equipment.


    "Hmm¡­ we found Arnan over there, so Rabouin''s grave should be further downhill," Michael said, pointing.


    "That''s likely, based on chronology, though we can''t be certain," Alfred replied.


    "True. There''s no guarantee the graves were arranged in order. I''ll search uphill; could you check below?" Michael suggested.


    Dividing their efforts, the two began their search for Rabouin''s tomb.


    After some time, Alfred called out to Michael.


    "Here it is! Rabouin de Balassier. I''ve found it."


    Michael ran to Alfred''s location, his face alight with excitement. The white marble gravestone, carved in the shape of a book, bore Rabouin''s name. There was no doubt¡ªit was his grave.


    Wielding pickaxes and shovels, they began breaking through the gravestone. Though they could have used magic to expedite the process, it would have been disrespectful to the deceased¡ªa strict principle of executioners, especially in the case of someone unjustly executed like Rabouin.


    Eventually, the sarcophagus beneath the stone was exposed. Using a pickaxe as a lever, they lifted the heavy lid.


    Rabouin''s body had been preserved in the sealed sarcophagus, mummified but intact. Unlike Arnan, Rabouin''s neck was still attached to his body, indicating greater care had been taken with his burial.


    Nodding in approval, Michael placed his hand on the corpse and chanted,


    "Resurrectionis electio!"


    As if time reversed, Rabouin''s body began to restore itself. Flesh regenerated, and his once-deformed form straightened. Soon, the figure of a scholar wearing a white wig emerged.


    Rabouin opened his eyes and met Michael''s gaze.


    "Good heavens, I''m alive again! What on earth is happening?"


    After a moment of shock, Rabouin reacted like the other revived souls.


    "My lord, was it you who awakened me? Thank you! There''s so much research I still wish to conduct. I pledge my loyalty to you, my noble master."


    Rabouin sprang to his feet and knelt before Michael.


    Perfect, Michael thought, suppressing a grin. I''ve gained a new alchemist¡ªor rather, a devoted gunpowder manufacturer.


    Exhausted, Michael and Alfred returned to the new territory just before dawn. After bidding farewell to Alfred and entrusting Rabouin to Arnan, Michael barely managed to reach his temporary quarters before collapsing into bed.


    Though he could replenish his energy with absorbed mana, the acts of resurrection and power absorption still drained his physical strength.


    It felt like only moments had passed before his steward, Julian, shook him awake.


    "My lord, please rise. The masters and apprentices have already begun their tasks," Julian informed him.


    Still groggy, Michael forced himself up. Julian, ever-efficient, handed him freshly baked bread and a cup of coffee.


    "Thank you, Julian. How are things progressing?" Michael asked, sipping his coffee.


    "There''s been some friction, but overall, the work is proceeding smoothly," Julian replied, pouring more coffee with practiced ease.


    "The Geomancy and Pyromancy schools are the most vocal. They''re having difficulty learning brick-making techniques from the artisans."


    Michael dabbed his mouth with a napkin and stood.


    "Let''s take a look. Lead the way."

 Chapter 101 - 101 Do You Really Want To Be A Knight?

    Julian draped a cloak over Michael''s shoulders and guided him to the source of the commotion.


    "You''re doing it wrong! How many times do I have to tell you? You need to put the exact amount of clay into the mold. If it''s uneven like this, it won''t work!" one artisan bellowed.


    A flustered mage, unused to such reprimands, shouted back,


    "I''ve never done this kind of work before!"


    "The heir to the territory instructed me to teach you the process. I''m just following orders. You need to understand every step to make proper bricks!" the artisan countered.


    Watching the escalating argument, Michael stepped forward to mediate.


    "Alright, everyone, calm down," Michael said, stepping into the tense scene. "You there, brickmaker, your name is...?"


    "I am Vernon, my lord," replied the startled artisan, dropping to the ground in a hurried bow.


    Michael helped him back to his feet. "No need for formalities, Vernon. You don''t need to explain every single step of the brick-making process to them."


    "But how will they learn to make proper bricks then, my lord?" Vernon asked, bewildered.


    "Which part of the process absolutely requires a craftsman''s touch? Specifically, the parts the mages seem to struggle with?" Michael inquired.


    "Well... mixing water with the soil and shaping the bricks in the molds are tricky. We rely on intuition for that, which makes it hard to explain," Vernon admitted.


    "Not everyone needs to participate in every part of the process. Split your team into two groups: one to mix the soil and water, and the other to shape the bricks in the molds. Leave the rest to the mages."


    "Would that really work?" Vernon asked hesitantly.


    "It will be enough," Michael assured him.


    Turning to the mages, Michael addressed a young man standing nearby.


    "And which school are you from?"


    "I am Niki, Master Elius''s apprentice and the supervisor for the Geomancy school''s mages," he replied confidently.


    "Very well, Niki. The Geomancy school will extract soil from the lakeside and highlands, purify it, and deliver it to the artisans. Once they''ve mixed it with water, your task will be to knead the mixture. Can you manage that?"


    "That''s what we Geomancy mages excel at. Of course, we can," Niki replied with a brightened expression.


    "Good. Like the artisans, divide your team into two groups to increase efficiency," Michael instructed.


    With newfound clarity, Niki led the Geomancy mages off to collect soil, visibly relieved that their role had been clarified. Michael watched them go, glad to have avoided further lectures on brick-making.


    He then turned his attention to the Pyromancy school, where murmurs of confusion were audible. A sharp-eyed mage stepped forward.


    "I am Eric, Master Vulkan''s apprentice. How can we help?"


    "Eric, you and the Pyromancy mages will handle the drying and firing of the bricks after the artisans have shaped them. Maintain a consistent temperature to prevent the bricks from cracking."


    "Temperature control is our specialty. Consider it done," Eric said confidently.


    "Good. Divide into two groups and share the workload. This will help everyone become more efficient in their tasks."


    "Understood. A brilliant plan¡ªit will definitely improve productivity," Eric said with approval.


    With the brick-making process divided into six clear stages, Michael rubbed his tired eyes and turned to Julian.


    "If they use magic, the bricks should be finished by the end of the day. As soon as they''re ready, instruct the plasterers to start repairing the village," Michael said.


    "Understood, my lord. Shall we prioritize the castle repairs after the village?" Julian asked.


    "No, focus on the village first. The castle can wait until we have a proper design plan for the repairs," Michael replied.


    Julian nodded.


    "Very well, my lord. I''ll see to it."


    "You''re doing an excellent job, as always. Thank you, Julian. But tell me, do you truly wish to become a knight?" Michael asked suddenly.


    The question startled Julian, who stiffened.


    "I¡­ I know I lack the aptitude for knighthood, but my family has been knights for generations..."


    "I don''t distinguish between knights and administrators. Frankly, you''re better suited to administrative work than knighthood. You should stop knight training and learn practical governance from Arnan. I believe even your father would prefer that," Michael said gently.


    Julian''s eyes glistened, but he managed to keep his composure. "Do you truly mean that, my lord?"


    "I do. You have the potential to excel as an administrator," Michael said firmly.


    Overwhelmed with gratitude, Julian bowed deeply and strode off to find Arnan. He didn''t know that Michael held back a thought: "You''ll be my eternal workhorse¡­ I mean, my loyal chancellor."


    As Michael watched Julian walk away, he turned his attention to the other schools. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The Hydromancy and Mist schools, as expected, were demonstrating their hidden prowess in cleaning. The Volcanology mages were wandering the village, bickering as they searched for groundwater. Meanwhile, the Cryomancy school repeatedly froze and thawed the ground, while the Metallurgy masters were deep in a heated discussion about pipe design and thickness.


    Watching them diligently carry out their assigned tasks, Michael felt it was worth leveraging Marcus and Miaomiao to motivate them.


    When Michael arrived at the fertilizer station, the Aeromancy and Biomancy schools were in the middle of their research. Marcus''s droppings were prominently displayed, and the mages seemed genuinely thrilled.


    How can they be so happy over dragon dung? Michael thought, bemused. Still, knowing that the success of their work would boost the territory''s agricultural output made him appreciate their enthusiasm.


    Meanwhile, the Beastmastery mages were busy training rare, high-grade beasts to transport supplies. Nearby, knights nervously hovered over their beasts, worried they might get injured.


    By now, the Geomancy mages had already departed to gather soil.


    "Excellent work, everyone," Michael said, addressing the gathered mages and knights. "The Geomancy school will soon bring soil. Which team¡ªBeastmastery or Aeromancy¡ªwill transport it first?"


    The Aeromancy master, Nirke, eagerly raised his hand. "The Aeromancy school is ready anytime! Will Marcus assist with the first transport?"


    Michael offered a kind smile.


    "Of course. This is a significant first transport, so Marcus will certainly participate."


    Overcome with excitement, Nirke clasped his hands together like a giddy child.


    "What an honor! I''ll personally assist with the first transport."


    Michael leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially,


    "Marcus loves jewels. If you reward him with one after each transport, he''ll be delighted."


    "Jewels? That''s no problem at all. Thank you for the valuable advice!" Nirke exclaimed.


    As Nirke beamed, Michael smiled to himself. He had secured jewels for Marcus with minimal effort.


    After surveying the bustling village, Michael climbed to the top of the castle''s watchtower. Smoke rose from various areas, and the village teemed with activity. The lively scene filled his heart with pride.


    This is it¡ªCrassus'' new domain.

 Chapter 102 - 102 Bringing In The Serfs And Livestock

    In the distance, Marcus soared through the sky with other magical beasts trailing behind him, instinctively following the dragon''s superior aura.


    On the castle watchtower, Miaomiao stretched and yawned as she lazily rubbed her eyes with her paws, having just woken up from a long nap.


    [That chick is so carefree. He looks happy even while working, doesn''t he?]


    "That''s a good thing, isn''t it?" Michael replied with a smile. "Did you sleep well?"


    [Hmm, no matter how much I sleep, I''m still sleepy,] Miaomiao murmured, stifling another yawn. Her eyes sharpened with curiosity as she added, [Did we gain another demon? I can sense a new one.]


    "Yes," Michael confirmed. "Grandfather and I visited the graveyard yesterday. We need all the talent we can get."


    Miaomiao''s tail flicked back and forth as her curiosity deepened.


    [That''s smart. Mages and knights will leave eventually. What powers does this new demon have?]


    Michael paused, organizing his thoughts as a gentle breeze tousled his hair.


    "His name is Rabouin. In life, he was a renowned chemist and inventor. It seems his abilities include summoning elements and transmuting materials."


    Miaomiao''s eyes gleamed with excitement, her whiskers twitching forward.


    [Chemistry! That was a lost discipline after Rabouin''s death. If his powers are exactly as you say, this is incredible¡ªsummoning specific elements and transforming materials? That''s ridiculously useful!]


    Michael nodded, acknowledging the enormity of Rabouin''s talents. "Exactly. He seemed overjoyed when he woke up."


    [Overjoyed doesn''t even begin to cover it. Considering how tragic his end was, he deserves this second chance,] Miaomiao said, leaping onto Michael''s shoulder.


    The two stood silently on the watchtower, watching the bustling village below. Before long, Julian and Arnan approached, their hurried steps signaling urgency.


    "Perfect timing," Michael greeted them with a bright smile. "I have tasks for both of you."


    To Michael, they were the two strongest workhorses¡ªahem,¡ªmost dependable retainers in his service.


    "Send soldiers to the neighboring territory to fetch the miners we contracted earlier. Let them select houses according to the size of their families," Michael instructed.


    His initial plan was to develop the existing mines. With war looming, high quality iron ore would likely be seized by the crown, so it was better to avoid risks. Michael thought of Charles V, a shrewd and unpredictable ruler, and decided to proceed cautiously.


    He turned back to his retainers and gave more detailed instructions.


    "Tell the miners we''ll bring their families after the village renovations are complete. For now, have them pitch tents near the mines and begin work. Do you think you can handle this?"


    Arnan and Julian exchanged glances before nodding. Setting up sturdy tents with beds and lockers wouldn''t be a problem.


    "Absolutely, my lord. We''ve already assigned the women of the territory to tent production," Julian replied confidently.


    Thanks to Michael''s work allocation system, Crassus''s territory was producing over 100 tents daily, part of a broader plan to accommodate incoming serfs and support future development.


    "And the lamp style hats I asked Leonardo to make¡ªare they finished?"


    "They should be completed as of yesterday," Julian confirmed. "I''ll have Leonardo brought here using one of the flying beasts."


    Julian always strived to meet Michael''s expectations.


    "Good. Also, ask the Aeromancy school to apply ventilation magic morning and evening in the mines. Chronic lung disease is a major issue for miners, but this should reduce occupational illnesses significantly," Michael said.


    Arnan was visibly impressed by Michael''s thoughtfulness. "What a generous policy, my lord. Humanity must be at the core of all actions."


    Michael smiled faintly. In truth, his goal was to improve productivity, but he saw no harm in embracing Arnan''s interpretation. As a descendant of Dangun, Michael carried the philosophy of "Hongik Ingan"¡ªbenefiting humanity¡ªand he nodded in agreement.


    "Good. Let''s proceed with that plan. Now, what was so urgent that you came to find me?"


    Julian stepped forward. "My lord, the serfs and livestock we purchased from the capital have arrived. The soldiers stationed at the gorge reported their arrival."


    Michael''s face lit up. He had been anxiously awaiting their arrival.


    "Excellent news. Did everyone make it here safely? Never mind¡ªI''ll go see for myself. You two, carry on with your tasks."


    Michael lightly prodded Miaomiao, who stretched lazily on his shoulder. With an exaggerated sigh, she rose, her feline form shimmering briefly before transforming into her true self¡ªa majestic creature with large, powerful wings.


    The red ribbon she usually wore reconfigured into a harness. Michael swiftly climbed onto her back, grabbing the reins.


    With a powerful beat of her wings, Miaomiao soared into the sky, leaving the castle to shrink rapidly in the distance.


    The two flew swiftly and reached the Iron Valley Gorge, the territory''s natural defensive barrier and primary entrance.


    From atop Miaomiao, Michael looked down at the narrow entrance, where soldiers stood guard. The gorge''s width made it difficult for large groups to pass through at once.


    Near the guards stood a familiar face¡ªa plump merchant who was mopping his sweaty brow. Michael recognized him as someone he had met through his father.


    As Michael dismounted, the merchant hurried forward and bowed deeply.


    "Ah, my lord! It''s an honor to see you again. Have you been well?"


    Michael fixed him with a cool gaze. sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Yes, I''ve been fine. Have you brought the serfs and livestock?"


    His eyes scanned the gorge, where families of serfs were clustered together. Behind them, the faint sounds of animals could be heard.


    "Ah, my lord, you wouldn''t believe how arduous the journey was. Five young ones and seventeen old ones perished along the way. As an apology, I''ve brought the worth of fifteen strong men to compensate. Will that suffice?" the merchant asked nervously.


    Michael considered for a moment before nodding.


    "That''s acceptable. Are all the serfs brought here in family units?"


    The merchant showed a relieved expression and quickly nodded to Michael.


    "Of course, my lord! I wouldn''t dare play games with you. Every single one of them is here with their families."

 Chapter 103 - 103 Settling The Serfs

    His confidence was evident, but Michael remained vigilant.


    "Good. Were there any losses among the livestock?" Michael asked.


    The merchant brightened.


    "Some of the animals did die along the way, but we had an equal number of births. The numbers have actually increased, so there''s no change in value."


    Michael nodded in satisfaction.


    "That''s excellent news. And the herders¡ªare they here as well?"


    The merchant gestured toward a group of men standing a short distance away, dressed in vests and rugged clothing.


    "Yes, my lord. They are shepherds and cattle herders."


    "Are they all hired by your caravan?"


    "I employed them to accompany us on this journey. Do you need them for your estate?" the merchant asked, his shrewdness evident.


    Michael smiled. "Indeed. While we do have some shepherds among the villagers, their numbers are insufficient for the increased livestock. We''ll need more workers."


    The merchant clapped his hands and gestured for the herders to step forward.


    "What can we do for you, my lord?" asked an older man, seemingly the leader, as he respectfully removed his hat.


    "If you have no other commitments, how about temporary employment on my estate? I''ll pay you the same rate as the caravan."


    The leader hesitated, a faint tension in his voice as he replied.


    "Well¡­ we don''t have any immediate plans, but taking this job means losing an entire season of work. If you can provide assurances¡­"


    "How about I hire you until this time next year? All of you. If things go well, you''re welcome to bring your families and settle here permanently," Michael proposed, his tone calm and inviting.


    The herders exchanged glances, murmuring among themselves. The offer was fair and practical, showing both generosity and foresight.


    After a brief discussion, the leader''s expression brightened.


    "We accept, my lord. And you truly mean it¡ªthat we can bring our families to live here later?" sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The merchant interjected, his voice stern.


    "Do you think a nobleman like Sir Michael would go back on his word? Show some respect!"


    Realizing his mistake, the leader scratched his head sheepishly.


    "My apologies, my lord. I''m just an ignorant man."


    Michael chuckled.


    "No need to apologize. It''s natural to have questions. Skilled shepherds like you will be most welcome here. We''ll allocate homes and farmland based on your family size."


    But then Michael''s tone turned serious, his gaze sharp.


    "However, if even one of you causes trouble within the estate, you''ll all be punished and expelled."


    The herders tensed but nodded in agreement. For laborers like them, the opportunity to settle permanently with land and homes was a rare stroke of luck.


    "Of course, my lord. We''re all honest folk," the leader assured him.


    The merchant backed them up.


    "I wouldn''t have hired them if they weren''t reliable. They''re all members of the herders'' guild."


    Satisfied, Michael nodded. "Good. Follow the soldiers to the highlands. There''s a nearby lake and plenty of grasslands, perfect for grazing."


    His tone softened as he added,


    "Set up fences and let the livestock roam. I trust you''ll handle it well."


    The herders responded enthusiastically and began leading the animals toward the highlands under the soldiers'' guidance.


    Behind them, the serf families started murmuring among themselves, their apprehension clear. The merchant stepped forward to calm them.


    "Silence, all of you! This man is now your master¡ªa noble heir to the promising Crassus family. Serve him well, and your lives will prosper!"


    The serfs hesitated before slowly kneeling, their movements stiff and uncertain. Being from the populous southern regions, submission seemed ingrained in them.


    Michael observed them and spoke gently, avoiding excessive intimidation.


    "That''s enough. Merchant, here''s a letter for my father. Present it at Crassus Castle to receive your payment."


    Taking the letter, the merchant bowed deeply.


    "Thank you, my lord. I''ll take my leave now. Don''t worry about the serfs¡ªthey''ve been trained on the way here. They''ll obey without issue."


    Relief was evident on the merchant''s face as he departed, pleased with the smooth transaction.


    "By the way, did you see any caravans transporting magical beasts along the way?" Michael asked.


    The merchant paused to think before clapping his hands.


    "Ah, yes! A few days ago, I passed a caravan transporting magical beasts. They must be headed here."


    "Good to know. They''ll arrive soon. Thank you for the information."


    "Not at all, my lord. I''ll see you again if fortune permits," the merchant said, departing with a polite bow.


    Michael turned his attention back to the serfs. They looked exhausted, their sunken faces and hollow eyes bearing the weight of their arduous journey. Clearly, they needed rest and care before beginning work.


    He instructed the soldiers to organize the serfs into groups of 100. Some resisted, fearing separation from their families, but quieted when reassured they''d reunite in the village.


    From Miaomiao''s back, Michael watched the long line of serfs winding through the gorge. Even with 22 casualties among the elderly and infirm, the survivors bore clear signs of the journey''s hardships. Clutching their meager belongings, they trudged forward, their eyes filled with uncertainty.


    Michael, having arrived in the village ahead of them, called for Julian and Arnan.


    "The livestock has been sent to the highlands with the shepherds. The serfs will arrive shortly," Michael informed them.


    "They''ll be exhausted. It''s best to let them rest first," Arnan said, his tone filled with compassion for the weary serfs.


    "I agree. Assign them small tents by family and provide proper meals," Michael said.


    Julian raised a practical concern.


    "Shall we place their homes near the farms? Repairs there may take some time."


    "Yes," Michael agreed after a moment''s thought. "I don''t want them living in makeshift shacks or hovels like before. Let''s reinforce the buildings properly during the repairs, and ensure they have plenty of food."


    His reasoning was pragmatic¡ªpoor living conditions led to disease, which in turn reduced productivity. A baseline standard of living was essential for maximizing efficiency. Humans weren''t machines, after all.


    Misinterpreting his practicality as altruism, Arnan looked at Michael with admiration.


    What a kind and noble leader, he thought. A true ruler worthy of loyalty.


    Arnan silently vowed to support Michael with unwavering devotion.

 Chapter 104 - 104 Ethan

    Ethan''s life, as the sixth son of a serf family in the southern territories, had always been harsh. Born into poverty, he matured early, understanding his responsibilities as a child of meager means. To avoid angering his perpetually irritated father, Ethan diligently completed his assigned tasks and never neglected to help his frail mother, worn out from numerous childbirths.


    Though four more siblings were born after him, only one brother and two sisters survived. Despite days spent toiling in the fields until his bones ached, the family subsisted on rough bread mixed with sand¡ªand even that was a luxury.


    At sixteen, Ethan married his childhood friend, Anna, from the neighboring house. However, the sweetness of their newlywed life was short-lived, ending with the stillbirth of their first child. The hard labor Anna endured during her pregnancy, coupled with poor nutrition, had taken its toll.


    Anna fell into a deep depression, her vitality gradually fading.


    "Why the fuss? A baby dies, and she collapses? She''s got it easy, hasn''t she?" whispered the villagers, their hearts hardened by unending labor and loss.


    Though Anna eventually recovered, her weakened body could not regain its former strength. To support her, Ethan worked even harder. Slowly, her smiles returned.


    But one day, when things seemed to be improving, a farm overseer''s subordinate brought crushing news.


    "Ethan, you''ve been reassigned to the rocky fields. Just a heads-up."


    "What? But¡­ we''ve already finished planting," Ethan protested.


    "Come on now, you know no one will buy those rocky fields. It means you''ll be sold off soon," the man replied bluntly.


    "And my parents? My wife?" Ethan asked, panic creeping into his voice.


    "The elderly and weak women won''t be sold. Your wife will probably remarry some widower in the village, and your brother can take care of your parents."


    Ethan''s thoughts flashed to his older brother, who had returned from the lord''s war with one arm. Despite his efforts, his harvest was half of what others managed. After taxes and tributes to the lord, he often relied on handouts from Ethan and their married sisters.


    And Anna? Could he really leave her to marry someone else? He pictured her shy smile from their wedding night.


    No. Never.


    "My lord, you know my brother''s condition. I''m the only one supporting my family. Please, I beg you!" Ethan pleaded.


    "Enough! The lord has already decided. You''re not the only one¡ªevery able-bodied man and unmarried woman in the village is being sold," the subordinate replied with a pitying shake of his head.


    The village''s poor yield the previous year had left it vulnerable. Though the land was naturally barren, the lord needed immediate funds, and the villagers were the sacrifice.


    Ethan collapsed in despair as the cries of families being torn apart echoed throughout the village.


    Days passed in a haze of hopelessness until the subordinate returned with surprising news.


    "Ethan, I''ve got good news for you."


    Ethan, his eyes hollow and lifeless, looked up. Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Is it time for me to be sold?"


    The man coughed awkwardly before speaking in a placating tone.


    "Not quite. The lord who purchased you is a generous man. To prevent families from being separated, he''s decided to buy the families of all his serfs as well."


    A glimmer of life returned to Ethan''s eyes.


    "Really? Then I won''t be separated from my family?"


    "That''s right. It''s a relief for me too. Prepare to leave in three days. Your one-armed brother and your sisters'' families are included. The whole village is being moved," the man explained.


    Overwhelmed with gratitude, Ethan''s tears flowed freely.


    "Thank you, my new lord¡­"


    What Ethan didn''t know was that similar scenes were unfolding across other southern estates.


    With his meticulous nature, Ethan spent the three days preparing as best as he could. While some neighbors scoffed at his efforts, others followed his example, organizing their families for the journey.


    Ethan gathered cloth to wrap their feet, stripping even the window coverings from their small home. He fashioned walking sticks that could double as weapons if needed. Into their bundles, he packed smoked meat from winter poaching¡ªenough for each family member to have a piece for strength. He even included the baby clothes of their first child, treasuring its memory.


    The journey was grueling. Some of the elderly and children died along the way, their bodies buried hastily before the group moved on.


    After countless days of walking, their destination finally came into view: the Crassus estate, accessible only through a narrow gorge.


    As they waited for their guide, Anna clutched Ethan''s sleeve, her wide eyes fixed on something in the distance. Following her gaze, Ethan saw a knight descending on a dark blue jaguar-like beast.


    "Is that an angel?" Anna whispered.


    "No, it''s a magical beast. They say nobles ride those creatures," another villager murmured as the crowd began to buzz.


    Ethan, stealing a glance at the knight''s face as he dismounted, was stunned. Could someone really look like that?


    Under the soldiers'' guidance, they were led through the gorge to their new home, a place that seemed like paradise.


    Each family was assigned a tent equipped with simple beds and lockers. The beds, made from stacked logs, were both practical and efficient, as the logs could later be repurposed as firewood. Fresh straw was laid on top of the beds¡ªa luxury Anna marveled at as she ran her fingers through the clean, dry fibers.


    "That knight¡ªhe''s the heir to the Crassus estate, isn''t he?" Anna asked, her voice tinged with wonder.


    "Yes, and this place seems truly exceptional," Ethan replied.


    His older brother, Yurik, looked equally pleased. Having recently promised his future to a young widow from a neighboring estate, he was filled with hope.


    Assigned to tents near the farmland, they soon set out to work. Though the planting season had passed, the fields clearly needed extensive clearing and preparation.


    Their allocated plots were larger than what they were used to¡ªlarge enough to leave surplus even after taxes. Moreover, the taxes here were significantly lower than at their previous estate, and there was no need to pay tributes.

 Chapter 105 - 105 To Live Like Human Beings

    Even more astonishing was the news that every five families would be provided with a draft horse and ox for shared use.


    Initially, Ethan couldn''t believe it. But then Anna''s brother, Rooney, came to him, expressing skepticism.


    "Do you really believe that? They''ll probably make us pay for the animals later, leaving our descendants in endless debt."


    Ethan shook his head. "No, this estate is different. The knight¡ªthe heir¡ªpersonally issued these orders. There''s no middleman to twist things."


    Though Rooney remained cautious, Ethan allowed himself a glimmer of hope. Could this truly be a place where they could live like human beings?


    "Late arrivals might only get the leftovers, so form teams and move quickly," Ethan urged Rooney, recounting the instructions given by the estate manager. Though skeptical, Ethan approached the farm steward and returned, awestruck, with a draft horse and ox.


    It''s true!


    The only condition was that he had to feed and care for the animals during the rental period, but that was a small price to pay. The estate even provided grain for free in the first year, with the expectation that it would be repaid in installments after future harvests.


    How could such a place exist?


    By the time the land-clearing was nearly finished, news arrived that the farmhouses were ready for occupancy. When Ethan and his family entered their assigned home, they gasped in amazement.


    The brick house was clean, with sizable windows fitted with glass panes¡ªa luxury unheard of.


    Ethan''s elderly father shuffled toward one of the windows, his hands trembling.


    "This¡­ this is glass," he murmured. "The last time I saw something like this was as a child, when Father took me to the lord''s castle. To think I''d ever live in a house with glass windows¡­"


    Tears streamed down the old man''s face, and Ethan''s mother discreetly wiped her own tears.


    Ethan turned to Anna, their eyes meeting in shared joy.


    "Here," he said, smiling, "we can live like humans."


    From a distance, Julian and Arnan observed the serfs entering their new homes, their delighted exclamations reaching the two men.


    "Our hard work paid off," Arnan said quietly, his voice laced with satisfaction. S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "You''ve done so much, Sir Arnan," Julian replied, nodding in agreement.


    Julian, steadily bridging the gap between human and demon, had been learning administration, management, and politics from Arnan. He was blossoming into a capable steward.


    "I merely followed the lord''s lead," Arnan said humbly, shaking his head.


    "Our lord truly is extraordinary," Julian said, his tone filled with admiration.


    "Indeed. Large-scale production of bricks and glass¡ªwho could have imagined?" Arnan mused.


    The production had been nothing short of revolutionary. Leonardo had combined artifacts and alchemical knowledge to innovate the manufacturing process, while the mages provided magical support for key tasks, maximizing efficiency.


    "Only our lord could devise such methods," Julian agreed. "He always speaks of these things as if they''re simple, but it''s his genius at work."


    Arnan chuckled. "I used to think mages were only suited for research, yet they''ve proven remarkably practical under his direction."


    "It''s amazing how many have gathered here under his leadership, even those who avoided conscription during wartime," Julian added.


    "At first, they seemed unsure, but now they actively seek out tasks," Arnan noted, recalling the mages'' newfound enthusiasm.


    "Apparently, their magical reserves have increased significantly since working here. After focusing solely on research, applying their skills practically has enhanced their abilities," Julian explained.


    "That makes sense," Arnan said, nodding thoughtfully. "No wonder they seem so energetic lately."


    "Even the masters, after hearing from their apprentices, have joined in one by one," Julian added.


    "Ah, so that''s why the masters have been harder to find recently. They used to linger around Miaomiao and Marcus all the time," Arnan remarked with a grin.


    "Yes, Miaomiao hated it. Marcus, on the other hand, let them observe him up close as long as they offered him jewels," Julian said, laughing.


    As the discussion turned to the estate''s progress, Julian suggested, "Shall we visit the newly settled areas? We can use one of the flying beasts to get there quickly."


    After a brief moment of consideration, Arnan agreed.


    "Let''s do that. It''s time I introduced myself to the lord properly."


    Arnan smiled as he added, "But speaking of innovations, the livestock lending program is a remarkable idea. Consider this: a draft animal can plow a field in a fraction of the time it would take several people."


    Julian nodded attentively as Arnan continued.


    "Yet no one thought to implement such a system before. Why?"


    Julian frowned in thought before replying, "Most lords would rather slaughter the animals for meat than lend them to serfs. After all, they see serfs as nothing more than speaking beasts."


    Arnan sighed deeply, his face darkening.


    "True. Even after a thousand years, the world hasn''t changed much."


    "Even with the growing number of mages, their contributions rarely extend beyond their own benefit. That''s why I place so much hope in our lord," Arnan said, his voice steady with conviction.


    "I feel the same," Julian replied. "I''ve learned so much under his guidance and continue to grow."


    Thinking of Michael, Julian''s eyes sparkled with renewed loyalty.


    "I''ll follow you to the ends of the earth, my lord."


    Sixty years later, Julian would curse his younger self as he sorted through mountains of paperwork, but that was a future he couldn''t foresee.


    Meanwhile, Michael, the subject of all this praise, was entirely consumed with his current task: exhuming his third corpse.


    Alfred had gone to another estate to handle execution duties, leaving Michael to work alone.


    Wiping the sweat from his brow, he muttered,


    "Why is this grave so damn deep?"


    Late into the night, the sound of Michael''s shovel slicing through the earth was the only thing breaking the silence of the dark sky.


    Not long after being revived, Rabouin was engulfed in deep despair. This was because he had learned that his wife had been executed five years after his death.

 Chapter 106 - 106 For The Sake Of Investment, Onward

    His wife, Evelyn, was fifteen years younger than him, yet she possessed wisdom and kindness far beyond her years. She wasn''t merely his wife; Evelyn was also the younger sister of a colleague and later became Rabouin''s most trusted apprentice after their marriage.


    With her radiant intellect, she was both a research partner who shared his aspirations and a beacon of hope whenever he faltered. Her words often comforted him:


    "You can do this. Just a little more effort."


    Her soft voice always managed to soothe Rabouin''s heart.


    "Why are you staring at me like that?" she once asked.


    "Because you''re so kind and beautiful," he replied.


    "Oh, you silly man," she said with a gentle laugh.


    Every time he glanced to his side during experiments, she was always there. Her eyes shone with warmth and brightness. Even when they had to use up all her dowry to fund his research, she never complained.


    "I know what''s truly important to us. Your research will change the world," she had reassured him.


    But the world did not recognize their devotion and sacrifices. Rabouin was branded a heretic by the religious elite of the Sacred Nation and was ultimately imprisoned.


    Even then, Evelyn never abandoned him. She fought with all her might to save him, striving to prove his innocence. Rabouin later learned that, while seeking support from nobles by writing petitions, Evelyn fell ill and collapsed. Despite the letter he had written to her from prison under the moonlight, urging her to live a happy life, she couldn''t forget her unworthy husband.


    "She... my Evelyn... even after my death, she campaigned to restore my honor, compiled my writings, and was captured and executed?" Rabouin asked in disbelief.


    "That''s right," replied Leonardo. "From what I know, she resisted advice to flee to another country and was executed five years later. Honestly, I can''t understand that kind of love. There are so many other things in the world to be obsessed with!"


    Rabouin despaired. Was it wrong to seek out traces of his past? Was it wrong to hope that her final days weren''t miserable? Leonardo''s tactless revelation left him crushed.


    For days, Rabouin couldn''t bring himself to return to his beloved experiments. It was then that Michael, who had been preoccupied with overseeing the resumption of mining operations and arranging laborers, rushed to his side upon hearing that Rabouin was accomplishing nothing and only crying.


    "What''s the matter with you, Rabouin?" Michael asked in astonishment. The sight of the middle-aged man weeping with tears and snot running down his face was both pitiful and comedic, especially with his powdered wig. S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Between sobs, Rabouin managed to stammer, "M-my... my wife... Evelyn! My poor Evelyn!" before breaking into wails again. Michael glanced at Leonardo, prompting him to explain reluctantly.


    "Well... I thoughtlessly told him that his wife had also been executed. But it''s not like I could lie, could I?" Leonardo defended himself.


    Realizing the gravity of the situation, Michael raised his voice. "How could you leave him like this? You should have told me sooner!"


    Leonardo was aghast. "That''s absurd! Why would the master waste his powers reviving some ordinary human?"


    Before the argument could continue, Rabouin, his face streaked with tears, clung desperately to Michael''s trousers. "Please! Bring my wife back! I''ll do anything you ask. I hesitated before, but if you want gunpowder, I''ll make it. I''d even blow up the Papacy for her. My wife was an exceptional person. She always helped me with my experiments."


    And so, Michael found himself digging up Evelyn''s grave. Nobles'' bodies, especially those executed, were often buried deeper to prevent desecration. Evelyn''s grave was no exception.


    "If I''d known, I would''ve brought Rabouin with me," Michael muttered regretfully as he gripped the shovel tighter. There was no choice but to keep digging.


    The reunion of the couple was tearful. Evelyn, now revived, was a petite woman with soft, golden hair, looking at least twenty years younger than the middle-aged Rabouin. But if they were happy, that was all that mattered.


    Revitalized, Rabouin threw himself into his work. Evelyn, as a revived entity, had gained the power to catalyze chemical reactions, a perfect complement to Rabouin''s abilities. Together, their experiments reached new heights.


    The laboratory, set up in the northern annex of the castle, frequently echoed with explosive sounds. Had they not been demonic beings, the two would have perished ten times over. The resident cat, Miaomiao, hissed at the latest explosion.


    "How do they expect anyone to nap with all this racket?" she grumbled.


    "Want me to set fire to it, big sis?" Marcus, her companion, asked.


    "That''d just make it worse! Use your brain for once!" she retorted, batting his head with her paw.


    Michael chuckled and offered them custom-made earmuffs. "The louder it is, the better they''re doing. Be patient. Here, take these earmuffs."


    Though intrigued, the two were reminded of their duties. Michael firmly reminded them, "Finish your work first. We''re supposed to check the mine today."


    Grumbling, Marcus prepared to leave while Miaomiao, pretending to nap, found herself hoisted onto Michael''s shoulder.


    "What''s this? Put me down!" she hissed.


    Ignoring her protests, Michael walked on. She eventually gave in with a resigned sigh.


    "No one in this world is as pitiful as me," she lamented.


    Michael laughed lightly. "What nonsense. You''re on your way to being the richest sphinx ever."


    The thought cheered her up instantly. "You''re right! For the sake of investment, onward!"


    Here''s the translation with the shift to third-person narrative while retaining the original length and tone:


    Feeling a pang of guilt, Michael averted his gaze. I really need to establish that investment bank soon...


    As Michael and his group prepared for takeoff in the clearing, a group of knights approached them, visibly fuming. Leading the group was Sir Benjamin, the master of a Rank-3 magical beast, Hydra. His face was clouded with displeasure.


    "Sir Michael! What kind of mischief have you been stirring up with our magical beasts?" Benjamin demanded.

 Chapter 107 - 107 We Want Private Property Too

    Michael''s eyes widened in surprise. "What are you talking about?"


    Nearby, both Miaomiao and Marcus momentarily avoided eye contact, their behavior suspicious. Benjamin continued his protest.


    "My Hydra has started protesting, demanding wages! And it''s not just him¡ªother magical beasts are doing the same!"


    From a distance, the Hydra and other magical beasts peeked out, observing the situation. Realizing what had happened, Michael''s lips curved into a faint smile.


    "Well, it seems even magical beasts have come to recognize their worth."


    Seeing Michael''s reaction wasn''t outright negative, Miaomiao and Marcus perked up, chiming in support.


    [That''s right! Hydra, Pegasus, they''ve been serving the same family for over 300 years. And yet, they''ve never even touched a single gold coin! Isn''t that outrageous?]


    {Exactly! We haven''t even worked for a year, and we''ve already earned... how much again?}


    Marcus began trying to count his accumulated gold using his claws, but it proved to be a futile effort. Michael interjected with a grin.


    "Don''t worry about your gold. I''ve been investing it wisely, and it''s growing every day." S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Satisfied by Michael''s reassurance, Miaomiao and Marcus nodded approvingly. Michael then turned to Benjamin and the other knights.


    "I used to think only my dragons and sphinxes cared for gold, but it seems other magical beasts feel the same. Why not simply pay them a fair wage?"


    Benjamin looked bewildered, struggling to refute. "Why in the world would magical beasts need wages? We provide them with food and shelter already..."


    Miaomiao and Marcus stepped forward in unison, exuding an imposing presence that caused the knights to retreat slightly.


    [Excuse me? If that''s your argument, why do you live in large houses and hoard wealth you''ll never fully use? By your logic, you''re stockpiling grain and cattle you''ll never consume in a lifetime. Isn''t that just as pointless?]


    Miaomiao''s sharp words hit their mark, and Benjamin faltered, stumbling over his response. "W-well, that''s private property, and..."


    [We want private property too. With it, we can buy jewels whenever we like, and we won''t have to wait for someone to bring us food.]


    Other magical beasts nodded in agreement as Miaomiao spoke without hesitation. Michael, observing her with pride, envisioned the beasts eventually investing in his future institution.


    Magical beasts, with their near-immortal lifespans barring accidents, would not only earn wages but could become a reliable source of revenue for the domain. Given that they already received sustenance from their affiliated families, it was unlikely they would withdraw their investments. If they did, returning their gold with moderate interest would suffice.


    Most magical beasts, Michael noted, were highly intelligent. Though exceptions like Marcus existed, beasts ranked 7 or higher could communicate fluently, and even lower-ranked ones understood instructions well. Convincing them of the long-term benefits of investment would not be difficult.


    Intimidated by Miaomiao''s imposing presence, the knights grumbled as they departed, muttering about the absurdity of having to determine wages for magical beasts.


    "This is utterly ridiculous..." one knight complained, only to be glared at by his contracted magical beast. Flustered, the knight hurried to placate his beast.


    Watching their retreating figures, Michael and Marcus soared into the sky.


    Michael pondered who might best handle the establishment of his investment bank as they approached the mine entrance. The once-abandoned mine had undergone a remarkable transformation, bustling with energy and the sounds of activity.


    The miners who had returned to Iron Valley wore bright expressions. They hadn''t left their homeland because the work was hard, but because there was no hope.


    What could miners do with an ownerless mine? Secretly extract ore and sell it? No one had a death wish. For these men and women, raised in the mines since childhood, regaining their jobs brought immense joy.


    Even non-miners could now work without a lengthy apprenticeship, thanks to Michael''s revolutionary system. Wearing magically enhanced helmets inspired by modern safety gear, the miners entered the shafts with confidence, singing praises for Michael.


    "This helmet is incredible. No more carrying torches around!"


    "Right? And look at this thing called a drill. We used to heat rocks and douse them with water to crack them, but now iron ore falls right out when we use this. How did Sir Michael even come up with this?"


    "That''s why he''s a man of greatness. We simple folk could never manage something like this."


    Miaomiao, with her sharp hearing, relayed the conversations to Michael, who smiled in satisfaction. Pushing Leonardo to develop the drill had been the right decision. With Rabouin working on gunpowder, mining would soon become even more efficient.


    The mining process itself had also become more streamlined. Experienced miners now partnered with Marcus to identify optimal excavation sites. Once marked, Miaomiao and the recently arrived Rank-9 magical beast, Great Worm, entered to carve out the tunnels.


    As the Great Worm burrowed through the mountains, Miaomiao followed, fortifying the walls¡ªa task befitting the descendant of sphinxes who once built and guarded the tombs of ancient gods.


    Next, miners trained in using drills broke through rocks, while others wielding picks, crowbars, hammers, and chisels extracted iron ore. The ore was then collected into carts and transported out of the mine for sorting.


    Previously, miners apprenticed under a single master and handled every stage of the process. With the new division of labor, speed increased, and even novices could quickly become proficient.


    Michael inspected the sorted iron ore. Its brownish hue indicated mediocre quality, sufficient for farm tools or low-grade weaponry. With demand for such items still high, it would suffice for now. High-quality iron could be extracted once the war ended.


    He recalled a letter he had recently received from Princess Astrid. Written on delicate, rose-embellished paper with a faint fragrance, it conveyed her regards and a warning that war would break out within two months.


    "This is why connections are invaluable," Michael mused, a smile tugging at his lips. Two months would be enough time to relocate his people and prepare for war.


    As he stood lost in thought, a man suddenly came rushing out of the mine, shouting, "Sir! Please come here for a moment!"

 Chapter 108 - 108: Inside the Mine

    The man running toward Michael was out of breath, unable to speak for a moment. After pausing to catch his breath, he glanced around cautiously and lowered his voice.


    "Sir, I''ve discovered something incredible."


    Michael led the man into a quiet office to avoid prying eyes. "What is it? Take your time and explain."


    The miner''s eyes sparkled as he began recounting the events. "I was hard at work, using the magical drill to break through the rock wall, when I noticed something odd. Normally, there''s a consistent resistance when drilling into the rock, but this time, it felt different¡ªsubtly so."


    The man hesitated briefly, watching Michael''s reaction before continuing. "As I kept drilling around that area, I felt faint vibrations. At first, I thought I was imagining it, but then I placed my hand on the rock and realized I could feel a very faint breeze. I''m certain there''s another space behind the wall."


    After finishing his explanation, the miner looked up with a proud expression.


    "Are you absolutely sure? This wasn''t just a mistake?" Michael asked in a calm but serious tone.


    The miner''s face stiffened for a moment before he responded confidently. "I may not look like it, but I''m a Grade-2 miner from North Valley, personally selected by the previous lord. North Valley had a similar spot where a breeze was felt through the rock, and when we dug it up, there was a massive cavern."


    Hearing this, Michael fell silent, deep in thought. North Valley was a complex iron mine, and a miner who had worked there could be considered trustworthy.


    Eventually, Michael rose from his seat and made a decision. Calling over the mining supervisor, he issued a command. "Suspend all mining operations for now. There seems to be an issue in the mine."


    The supervisor hesitated briefly but soon began clearing out the miners. Once the mine was quiet, Michael and the reporting miner ventured inside.


    The mine was dark, and the air was thick with dust, despite the use of ventilation magic. After walking for some time, the miner finally stopped and pointed at a rock wall marked with a small X.


    "It''s here," he said.


    Michael carefully extended his hand, feeling the cold breeze seeping through the cracks in the rock.


    "What do you think? You can feel the breeze, right?" the miner asked, his voice trembling with excitement.


    Michael nodded. This was indeed a significant discovery. "Has anyone else besides you learned of this?" he asked, his gaze sharp.


    The miner, sensing Michael''s intensity, instinctively lowered his head. A cold sweat broke out as he noticed the soldiers guarding the mine''s entrance. Is he planning to silence me? Should I make a run for it?


    Panicking, the miner hastily protested, "I swear, I haven''t told anyone! My lips are sealed. Please, believe me, sir! I won''t say a word to anyone, ever!"


    Desperate, the miner prostrated himself, trembling in fear and cursing his loose tongue. Why didn''t I just keep this to myself? Now my family might get dragged into this and killed because of me...


    Michael snapped his fingers, and from the shadows emerged Isfer, who had been quietly guarding him. At Michael''s gesture, Isfer deftly struck the back of the miner''s neck, rendering him unconscious.


    "Take him to my tent in the village and keep him under watch. When Leonardo arrives, have him cast an illusion and place the man under hypnosis. He''ll need to be rewarded appropriately for his discovery."


    Isfer nodded silently, lifting the limp miner and disappearing into the shadows. As a transformed demonic being, Isfer could remain concealed in the darkness indefinitely.


    Contrary to the miner''s fears, Michael intended to reward him generously. However, the existence of this cavern had to remain a secret.


    Michael''s thoughts turned to the underground temple he had discovered near the lake. According to Lucrezia, the temple had been built atop an ancient magic circle. If so, there was a strong possibility that something significant lay beneath this mine as well.


    "What do you think, Miaomiao?" he asked.


    [We absolutely have to dig. If you can feel air moving through cracked stone, it''s either a cavern or another passageway.]


    Michael called over Marcus, who had shrunk to a smaller form and was closely examining the breezy spot, even licking it out of curiosity.


    "Marcus, didn''t you sense anything unusual here during previous surveys?" Michael asked.


    [Nope. I didn''t feel anything back then, and honestly, I don''t feel much now except for the breeze.] S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    That could only mean one thing: a concealed space. Whatever lay beyond the wall was likely hidden by a powerful barrier or shielding magic, impervious to ordinary detection.


    "All right, let''s dig," Michael decided.


    [Great! Call the Great Worm already,] Miaomiao said, her whiskers twitching with excitement as she rolled her paws eagerly.


    Michael grabbed Miaomiao gently, meeting her gaze. "It''s too risky for Marcus to handle this alone. Go fetch the Great Worm from the nearby forest. It''s rested enough; just bring the first one you find."


    Grumbling, Miaomiao stalked off into the shadows. Watching her small, lithe form disappear, Michael sighed internally. I should have brought my other retainers...


    Unfortunately, everyone had their roles. His retainers were preoccupied with training soldiers and preparing for the population''s relocation. Michael lamented the perpetual shortage of capable hands.


    Before long, a well-trained Great Worm emerged, writhing under the control of the beast-tamer mages. Michael offered the Worm a special treat prepared by the mage guild. The creature squirmed with delight as it consumed the treat, indicating its satisfaction.


    Michael patted its forehead and softly instructed, "Dig here carefully. There''s likely a cavern inside, so be cautious not to cause a collapse."


    Though unable to speak, the Great Worm understood human language. It nodded slightly before starting its work. As its massive head approached the wall, it began secreting acid. The moment the acid touched the rock, faint smoke rose, and the solid surface quickly melted into a sticky fluid.

 Chapter 109 - 109 Gargoyles

    The Worm sucked up the molten rock like a straw, revealing a smooth, glistening tunnel. According to the beast-tamer mages, the Worm would later regurgitate the ingested rock as hardened crystalline forms in about five to six hours.


    As the Great Worm finished its work, Miaomiao approached the newly dug area. She extended a paw to the ground, and a faint glow spread out from her paw pads, solidifying the terrain in an instant. Finally, it was safe to descend.


    Michael smiled in satisfaction as he glanced at the Worm. When it wriggled its massive body, Michael pulled out another treat and placed it into the Worm''s mouth. The Worm squirmed happily and affectionately nudged Michael with its head.


    "Well done. Thank you so much," Michael said, pulling out a 10-gold voucher and tucking it into the pouch around the Worm''s neck.


    Under their contract, the Worms were paid 5 gold monthly, with an additional 10 gold for every mining tunnel they excavated. As expected, magical beasts were highly responsive to gold. All three Great Worms had accepted these terms and signed contracts with Michael.


    Considering the typical success rate of magical beast contracts was only about 30%, this was an impressive feat. While using magic could boost success rates to nearly 100%, such contracts often extracted less than half the beasts'' full strength.


    During the signing, Michael had presented the Worms with gold-trimmed vouchers and delivered a year''s wages in a gleaming tin chest, promising that the vouchers could be exchanged for gold at any time. The Worms had gazed at the silver tin with rapture, their excitement evident.


    Watching this, Marcus and Miaomiao had grown envious and requested their own vouchers in exchange for their gold and jewels. They had competed eagerly to collect more, much to Michael''s amusement.


    Now, Michael and Miaomiao peered into the hole the Worm had created, ready to explore the mysterious underground space. Adjusting the magical miner''s helmet snugly on his head, Michael took a deep breath and climbed onto Marcus''s back.


    Marcus gripped the edge of the hole with his claws, his thick tail maintaining balance. Step by step, he descended into the dark shaft until they entered the cavern, where he spread his wings and soared upward.


    Michael looked down, his eyes widening at the sight before him. Beneath them was a massive underground chamber. The floor was unexpectedly smooth, and in one corner lay an underground lake.


    His gaze shifted to the corners of the cavern, where ancient statues stood. Despite the passage of time, the statues radiated a powerful presence.


    Approaching one of the statues, Michael examined the lamp it held. The lamp had a glass door, and the central compartment was empty. Reaching into his spatial ring, Michael pulled out a mana stone. He opened the glass door and placed the stone inside. With a soft pop, the lamp emitted a brilliant light.


    One by one, he repeated this process with the other statues, each lamp illuminating as he inserted mana stones. The cavern grew brighter with each activation, leaving Michael and Miaomiao momentarily speechless as they took in the grand space. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Regaining his composure, Michael addressed his companions. "Let''s move further in."


    [Right. I don''t sense any immediate danger, but we should stay cautious,] Miaomiao replied.


    Raising a paw, she cast protective magic over Michael and Marcus, enveloping them in faint shields. Together, they ventured deeper into the cavern.


    The statues were spaced approximately 200 meters apart. Michael continued placing mana stones into the lamps as they progressed, the increasing light reinforcing his conviction.


    This place wasn''t natural¡ªit was artificially constructed. The walls were unnaturally smooth, and the air circulation was too deliberate to be coincidental. The passage ahead had clearly been crafted by human hands.


    Michael continued forward, his curiosity mounting. Suddenly, the tunnel widened, revealing a group of statues resembling magical beasts. These statues, approximately 2.5 meters tall, bore a striking resemblance to winged dinosaurs.


    The beasts had their wings folded, their sharp claws embedded in the floor as they stood watchful, their expressions stern.


    [Miaomiao, Marcus, hold your ground. These are Rank-6 magical beasts¡ªGargoyles,] Miaomiao warned.


    She began chanting in an ancient tongue. As the chant echoed through the cavern, the statues'' eyes glowed red, and their sharp claws slowly detached from the walls.


    With a resounding thud, a dozen gargoyles descended from their pedestals, landing on the ground. They immediately turned to Miaomiao, bowing deeply in submission.


    [We greet the guardian of the tomb, the great Sphinx. At last, you have come for us,] they said in unison.


    The tension in Miaomiao''s posture eased, and Michael let out a quiet sigh of relief.


    "What did you just do?" Michael asked, curious.


    [The gargoyles are vassals of our lineage. It''s an ancient pact. I simply awakened them,] Miaomiao explained.


    Michael''s expression brightened. He imagined these magnificent creatures adorning the castle, coming to life to defend it against enemies.


    "Yes, this is perfect! Let''s take them all," he declared enthusiastically.


    Miaomiao nodded in agreement. [Once awakened, it''s only right to take responsibility. I am Nefertari Hatshepsut Sphinx, a noble of the Sphinx lineage. From now on, you are my subordinates. Follow me.]


    The gargoyles glanced at one another before awkwardly shuffling forward. Upon closer inspection, their wide, innocent eyes and stout, winged dinosaur-like bodies exuded an unexpected charm.


    Michael, overcome with emotion, gazed at them fondly. Finally, he thought, I have my own dinosaurs!


    Despite their fearsome appearance, the gargoyles displayed remarkable composure and spoke with an air of antiquity.


    [It has been countless years. It is only right that we now serve a new master. I am Garett, the chieftain of the Guardian Clan. We all share the same name, so you may address all of us, myself included, as Garett.]


    The thought of using the gargoyles as sentinels for his estate brought a smile to Michael''s face. Turning to Garett, he asked, "Why were you guarding this place? What was it used for?"

 Chapter 110 - 110 Ancient Tomb

    [This is the stone tomb of an ancient god. I served alongside Lord Akhenaten Memphis Sphinx to protect this site,] Garett replied.


    Miaomiao, who had been sitting quietly on Michael''s shoulder, suddenly leapt to the ground. Startled, Michael glanced at her, but her focus was locked on Garett.


    [Akhenaten Memphis Sphinx? Did you truly serve him?] she asked, her usual playful tone entirely absent, replaced by an uncharacteristic gravity.


    Noticing the tension, Michael decided to stay silent and observe their exchange.


    [Indeed, we all served Lord Akhenaten. Do you know of him?] Garett inquired.


    Miaomiao''s eyes shimmered with sorrow. Michael, alarmed by her expression, tried to calm her, but she drew a deep breath and spoke in a trembling voice.


    [Michael, Akhenaten Memphis Sphinx was my grandfather. He disappeared fifteen thousand years ago. Neither I nor my father ever had the chance to meet him. Do you have any idea what happened to him?]


    Garett and the other gargoyles silently knelt again, their gestures conveying deep reverence as though they had finally met their rightful master.


    [To think you are truly our master''s descendant. It is an honor to meet you, Lady Nefertari. While guarding this tomb, a group of individuals arrived seeking Lord Akhenaten. After much deliberation, he left with them,] Garett explained.


    Miaomiao''s voice trembled as she asked, [Who were these people who came for my grandfather?]


    Garett took a moment to recall. [They were diverse¡ªhumans, dragons, the forest clans, and the earth clans. They mentioned a gathering of many races to discuss a matter of grave importance for the continent''s survival.]


    His eyes grew distant as he continued. [Lord Akhenaten left with them, instructing us to protect the tomb. Later, he returned with a new group. We wished to accompany him, but he deemed it too dangerous. He sealed us here and ventured inside. He never emerged. When the bond of his spirit was severed, we knew¡­]


    Garett''s voice trailed off, heavy with grief. Miaomiao turned to Michael, her face etched with sadness.


    [He was the strongest of the Sphinx lineage. Something must have gone terribly wrong. Are you certain no one else emerged from the tomb?]


    Garett nodded solemnly. [No one. We have waited here, sealed, for our master to return and awaken us. But none came out.]


    The other gargoyles nodded in unison, their movements synchronized like a disciplined army.


    Miaomiao looked back at Michael, determination burning in her eyes. [I must confirm my grandfather''s fate. The core of the Sphinx cannot simply be left unclaimed. There must be a reason I was drawn here. It is his call for me to recover the core.]


    Michael nodded, understanding the necessity of continuing their exploration. Relieved, Miaomiao resumed her questioning.


    [Do you remember anything else?]


    [After Lord Akhenaten and his companions entered the depths, there was a massive surge of mana. The ground shook briefly before the outer parts of the tomb were sealed. It was undoubtedly his sealing magic. He seemed to have blocked the path to the sea, but the reason remains unclear. Perhaps he simply wanted to ensure this place remained hidden,] Garett replied.


    Miaomiao placed a paw on Michael''s shoulder, her voice thoughtful. [Between the magic circle at the lake and this place, it seems the continent''s strongest beings gathered to seal a volcano. If that volcano had erupted, the entire continent would have been affected. The body of an ancient god would have been an immense source of mana¡ªa power they likely harnessed to activate the magic circle.]


    Michael looked at her, intrigued. "A source of mana?"


    Miaomiao nodded, her tone returning to its usual playful cadence as she explained. [Exactly. That''s why our Sphinx clan guarded the tomb. So many invaders targeted these tombs that our numbers dwindled. Now, no other tombs remain.]


    Michael''s shoulders slumped at the revelation. Sensing his dismay, Miaomiao gently patted him with her paw. S§×arch* The novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    [Don''t lose hope. Ancient gods'' tombs were always buried with vast treasures. Even a mundane item from that era would sell for a fortune. It''s worth looking forward to,] she said, smiling as Michael''s spirits visibly lifted.


    [And remember, my grandfather took our family''s heirloom with him. If we find him, we''ll find the treasure too. Stay strong! Oh, and if I absorb his core, I''ll become at least twice as powerful!]


    The mention of the Sphinx heirloom and a stronger Miaomiao filled Michael with excitement. His mind raced with possibilities.


    "Garett, do you know the layout of this place?" Michael asked.


    Standing rigidly, Garett replied, [I do not know everything, but I am familiar with the general structure. Beyond the tomb lies a coastal cave where seawater flows in and out. I have not ventured further.]


    Michael was astonished. "This place is connected to the sea?"


    [Yes. It takes about two hours of flight from here to reach it. The tide flows in and out at intervals. Although I''ve never ventured outside, Lord Akhenaten often went there for fresh air. I suppose now he was visiting his family,] Garett said nonchalantly.


    Michael was exhilarated by this unexpected revelation. He knew that beyond the Iron Valley''s lake and mountain ranges lay the ocean, but the journey over the mountains took over five days and was fraught with high-level beasts.


    If this passage could serve as a direct route to the sea, it would provide a significant strategic advantage. His mind swirled with plans involving maritime access.


    Exchanging a glance with Miaomiao, Michael and the group took flight, heading toward the ancient god''s tomb. Previously cautious in their approach, they now moved with purpose.


    As Michael glanced at Miaomiao wiping her eyes with her paw, her face seemed even more somber.


    [I thought knowing his fate would bring me peace, but my heart feels heavier. I don''t even know how to explain this to my grandmother or father,] she confessed, her voice laden with sorrow.


    Michael gently patted her back, wishing to console her but unsure of what to say. Moments like these reminded him of his emotional shortcomings. Despite his progress, there was still much to learn.


    Seeing his concern, Miaomiao suddenly straightened and shouted confidently.


    [Enough moping around! Let''s stay strong!] Miaomiao suddenly shouted, her voice brimming with determination.

 Chapter 111 - 111 Loot

    Michael and Marcus both turned to look at her. Seeing her usual spark return to her eyes, they couldn''t help but smile.


    The path to the tomb was uneventful but felt long. Michael''s gaze occasionally drifted to Garett''s plump tail, which twitched every time the gargoyle flapped his wings. He couldn''t help but feel a swell of pride¡ªhis own squadron of winged beasts! These gargoyles were far more majestic and imposing than any pterodactyl, making his heart swell with excitement.


    After flying for a while, Garett folded his wings and descended to the ground. [You mentioned seeking the grave goods, correct?]


    Marcus, hovering briefly in the air, chose a suitable landing spot. [We''re here. Even if the body is no longer present, we should proceed with reverence. From the aura I sense, it seems the divine remains have indeed vanished.] S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael nodded, as this was more or less what he expected.


    [Michael! We''re splitting whatever we find here evenly, right?] Miaomiao asked, her tone mischievous.


    Michael gave her a look, realizing how deeply entrenched she had become in her capitalistic tendencies.


    [Of course! Since we came here together, it''s only fair to divide the loot equally,] Marcus chimed in, his nostrils flaring with excitement.


    Watching Marcus''s enthusiasm, Michael briefly wondered if he was corrupting his companions. Still, he nodded with a proud expression. After all, he could distribute vouchers as their share later. Keeping everyone motivated was a win-win.


    Garett led them through a labyrinth of passages to a stone chamber. [Taking a different route or entering the wrong chamber would have triggered significant consequences. While those safeguards are currently inactive, Lady Nefertari''s blood on the Guardian Stone will allow us to reactivate them. It would also unseal the coastal cave.]


    Michael marveled. Modern magic paled in comparison to the wonders of ancient sorcery. He now understood why Leonardo''s skills as an artifact craftsman had improved so dramatically after studying ancient ruins.


    When Michael entered the chamber, he felt a pang of disappointment. A beautifully carved sarcophagus sat in the center, its lid ajar and its interior empty. There were no grave goods in sight.


    The sarcophagus was massive, large enough to accommodate two people. It was clearly meant to house the divine remains.


    "Ah... There''s nothing here," Michael muttered, crestfallen.


    At that moment, Garett pressed a brick on the wall with his plump forepaw. The wall trembled and began to rise, revealing a hidden chamber bathed in a dazzling light. Dozens of magical lamps embedded in the ceiling illuminated the space so brightly it was almost blinding.


    As Michael squinted to adjust, he spotted Marcus rolling gleefully on a large golden-threaded carpet. The carpet, approximately five meters long and 2.5 meters wide, seemed to bring Marcus immense joy.


    Ignoring Marcus''s antics, Michael approached the rows of chests placed on the carpet. The first row contained ornate wooden boxes filled with dishes, plates, and cups, all meticulously packed. The next row held garments woven with gold and silver threads, adorned with jewels. Beyond that were accessories, somewhat crude in design but possessing a certain charm.


    [The ancients believed that even gods who had died would someday return. Hence, they buried essential items with them, all of the highest quality,] Garett explained.


    Michael nodded, recalling that ancient gods, like humans, were beings capable of love and death. New gods had eventually emerged, eradicating the old ones, only for those new gods to be destroyed by the Radiance.


    He carefully placed the chests into his spatial ring, musing that these antiques might fetch higher prices than gemstones. Marcus, meanwhile, was still sprawled on the carpet.


    When Michael tugged at the carpet, Marcus looked up with dazed eyes and asked, [C-can I keep this?]


    Smiling indulgently, Michael stowed the carpet in his spatial ring. [I''ll make a replica for your nest later. For now, let me hold onto it.]


    The carpet, being made of gold thread, appealed to Marcus not for its antiquity but for its material, making it an easy compromise. Michael then opened the next set of chests.


    Inside were seven crates brimming with weapons and armor: swords, bows, spears, war hammers, shields, full plate armor, and barding for mounts. Each piece gleamed, enchanted with preservation magic. When Michael pulled out a finger-length sword, it instantly reverted to its original size.


    Spotting the armor and barding, Michael couldn''t suppress a cry of delight. There were at least a hundred sets¡ªmore than enough to outfit a unit of heavy cavalry.


    Heavy cavalry! A dream come true! he thought, raising his fists in triumph. Combined with his gargoyle squadron, he felt confident that this force could dominate any battlefield.


    Watching Michael brim with joy, Marcus peeked into one of the chests out of curiosity. Finding the contents uninteresting, he flopped back onto the floor with a huff. Meanwhile, Michael finished packing away the weapons and armor and turned his attention to the next set of chests.


    The three chests before him were clearly special, each adorned with intricate carvings and luxurious embellishments. The ancient engravings on each chest were distinct, hinting at their unique origins and raising his anticipation.


    Michael opened the first chest. Inside lay a pair of earrings¡ªone set with a ruby as red as blood, the other with a sapphire as blue as the sea. The jewels emitted an otherworldly glow, their mystical energy almost palpable.


    Miaomiao''s voice trembled as she spoke. [Wow, those are the Earrings of Ines, the Goddess of Love, and Castro, the God of War! So, my grandfather was guarding gods like Ines and Castro!]


    "Ines and Castro?" Michael asked, his curiosity piqued.


    Her eyes sparkled with reverence and astonishment. She continued, [Yes, they were lovers. During the war of the gods, Ines was ambushed and killed. Driven mad with grief, Castro carried her body into battle, seeking revenge. After avenging her, he ended his own life. They were buried facing each other, wishing to see each other''s faces first when they were reborn. Isn''t that romantic?]


    Miaomiao clasped her paws over her chest, her expression dreamy as she recounted the tale. Her voice carried an air of admiration for their love and tragedy.

 Chapter 112 - 112 Eahs Shield

    Michael, however, remained indifferent. He remembered who the gods were.


    "They both had spouses, didn''t they? So, this is just the tragic end of an affair."


    The supposedly romantic story left Michael unfazed.


    Miaomiao hissed in frustration. [Hiss! You''re so... unromantic!]


    "Romance doesn''t pay the bills. I prefer focusing on reality," Michael replied casually, continuing to examine the earrings. S§×ar?h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Exasperated, Miaomiao thumped her chest with her paw. [Poor Princess Astrid, poor her!]


    Ignoring her complaints, Michael changed the subject. "So, do you know what these artifacts do?"


    Miaomiao regained her composure and answered confidently, [Of course! These are the ''Whisper of Tears'' earrings. Whoever wears one can communicate with the other, no matter the distance.]


    Michael''s eyes widened in excitement. Communication! He had tried to commission something like this from Leonardo, but even he couldn''t create such an artifact. The possibilities for its use were endless. For once, the fallout of an affair seemed useful.


    "By the way, if Ines and Castro were buried here together, the intruders who tried to raid the tomb must have been formidable. Your grandfather must''ve been incredibly strong to guard it," Michael remarked, subtly shifting the topic.


    Pleased by the compliment, Miaomiao lifted her chin. [Of course! I come from a distinguished Sphinx lineage. You''d best treat me with respect!]


    "Yes, yes, understood," Michael replied, tucking the embarrassingly named earrings into his spatial ring. He then opened the next chest.


    "What about this one?" Michael asked, holding a palm-sized stone tablet.


    Miaomiao''s eyes lit up. [That''s great too! It''s an essential artifact for war¡ªEah''s Shield.]


    "Eah''s Shield?" Michael echoed.


    [Yes. It was a gift from Eah, the Goddess of Earth, to Ines. Pour your blood into it, and the shield will bind to you. You can then summon an impenetrable barrier twice a day in a designated area. It could protect your new castle and the attached village!]


    Michael was awestruck. Such an artifact was almost too good to be true!


    "These artifacts must remain a secret. If anyone found out about them, they''d lose their minds," Michael remarked.


    Miaomiao nodded seriously. [You''re right. Unless it''s an absolute emergency, we shouldn''t use them. Ancient gods'' artifacts always attract bloodshed. When the owner dies, they return to their original location. Only a few remain on the continent.]


    "Then why not just find them at their original locations?" Michael asked.


    [It''s not that simple. We were only able to access this one because of the guardians'' cooperation,] Miaomiao explained with a cautious tone.


    Michael nodded in understanding. The rarer the artifact, the harder it was to obtain.


    Using his sword, Michael pricked his finger and let his blood drip onto the stone tablet. The tablet glowed brightly before transforming into a shield and merging with Michael''s palm. Concentrating, Michael summoned the shield again, watching it materialize with satisfaction before storing it.


    Next, Michael approached the final chest. Inside was a pair of plain black gloves, devoid of any decoration. Their simple design gave no indication of their purpose.


    Miaomiao tilted her head, puzzled. [Hmm... I''m not sure what these are.]


    "Guess I''ll just have to try them on," Michael said.


    As he slipped on the gloves, a sharp pain pricked his fingers. Another artifact that recognizes its owner through blood, he thought.


    Moments later, he noticed something strange. Above Miaomiao and Marcus''s heads, glowing yellow words appeared: Friendship.


    Above Garett and his companions, the word Loyalty appeared in glowing blue, floating like a hologram in the air.


    Michael grinned as he understood the gloves'' function. This artifact reveals the emotions others feel toward me! The possibilities were endless¡ªdistinguishing between those who harbored ill intent and those who were sincere, or even leveraging this in negotiations.


    But if it''s always active, wouldn''t that be exhausting? He imagined his surroundings constantly flashing with words and colors. That wouldn''t be sustainable.


    Examining the gloves, Michael noticed two small gems on the wrist. Pressing the first gem, the words above everyone''s heads vanished instantly. So it''s all or nothing? Interesting.


    Curious, he pressed the second gem. Nothing happened¡ªuntil Miaomiao, her curiosity piqued, wrapped her tail around Michael''s leg. Above her head, the word Friendship flickered briefly before disappearing.


    Michael realized the second gem allowed him to see the emotions of anyone he physically touched.


    "Miaomiao, this artifact is incredible. It lets me see what others feel about me," Michael explained excitedly.


    Miaomiao''s eyes widened in surprise. [Really? That''s perfect for someone as clueless as you! So, what does it say about me?]


    "You and Marcus both show as Friendship. Thanks, I consider you both my friends too."


    Purring contentedly, Miaomiao replied, [If it showed everyone''s emotions all day, that would be exhausting.]


    "It''s adjustable. I''ve set it so I only see emotions when I make contact. If I suspect someone, I can just offer a handshake," Michael said.


    [Smart move,] Miaomiao agreed. [We''ve scored big with this haul. So, how much are you planning to share with us?]


    Marcus perked up at the mention of shares, his ears twitching expectantly.


    "Well," Michael began, "we''ll sell the grave goods and split 10% of the proceeds into vouchers. The artifacts, since they''ll benefit all of us, won''t have a price assigned. Does that work?"


    [Hmm, it feels a bit light, but we''re good-hearted sacred beasts, so I''ll accept it,] Miaomiao said with an exaggerated sigh. Marcus nodded, satisfied.


    Michael then summoned all twelve Garetts and explained their wages and bonuses. Listening with reverent attention, the gargoyles seemed overjoyed. Their tails wagged enthusiastically when Michael promised each a share of 1% of the haul''s proceeds.


    Miaomiao approached the gargoyles slyly. [Listen carefully, Garett. In this domain, magical beasts work and earn money. Now that you''re contracted with Michael, remember this: investment is how money grows. If you don''t invest, you''re letting your money rot. Got it?]


    She wasn''t promoting investment because Michael promised a 3% commission for new clients¡ªdefinitely not. She was merely sharing wisdom for the benefit of her subordinates. Absolutely.


    After Miaomiao''s pitch, the gargoyles turned to Michael with eager expressions. [Sir Michael, could we also participate in this voucher investment Lady Nefertari and Sir Marcus are doing?]


    Michael''s smile radiated benevolence. "Of course, as much as you''d like!"

 Chapter 113 - 113 We Were Betrayed!

    The group left the tomb and took flight once more. After about fifteen minutes, they arrived at a large cavern. Unlike the smooth walls of the previous chambers, this space retained its natural ruggedness.


    Outside the cavern, crystal clear blue seawater shimmered, connecting to a wide entrance large enough for a ship to pass through. The entrance was nestled between cliffs, shrouded in thick mist that ensured it couldn''t be seen from the outside.


    [That mist is the seal I mentioned,] Garett One said quietly.


    Michael murmured in awe, "Your grandfather concealed this place to the very end... Miaomiao, he truly was incredible." S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Tears welled in Miaomiao''s eyes, but she quickly wiped them away with her paw. [Of course! He''s my grandfather, after all! Hehe.]


    The group began exploring the vast cavern. Its sheer size, combined with the darkness and mist, made it difficult to survey in its entirety.


    As Michael meticulously examined the surroundings, something caught his eye¡ªa shipwreck emerging faintly from the mist. The vessel''s silhouette was obscured, making it hard to discern its details at first.


    Miaomiao, perched on Michael''s shoulder, gasped. [That''s it! That''s the heirloom I mentioned¡ªthe ancient magic ship! I can''t believe it''s been abandoned like this...]


    Excitement surged through Michael as he rushed toward the ship. From a distance, it looked decrepit and ruined, but up close, its condition was surprisingly intact. Though weathered with signs of age, the ship''s structure remained sound.


    "We should go aboard. What do you all think?" Michael asked. Everyone nodded in agreement.


    [Still, we should be cautious. Wait a moment,] Miaomiao said, her concern evident. She cast protective magic over the group before they advanced.


    Michael prepared himself, equipping Eah''s Shield and donning the armor and bow gifted to him by Lucrezia. With everyone ready, they climbed onto the ship.


    As they stepped aboard, it became clear the deck was far larger than it appeared from the outside. Just as Miaomiao had said, the ship was an ancient magic vessel.


    Spread across the deck were piles of bones, arranged in a circular pattern at regular intervals. The remains, now reduced to skeletons, wore garments that were surprisingly well preserved despite the passage of time. Most were mage robes, though there were also several sets of finely crafted armor.


    Interspersed among the bones were magical cores from beasts and remains of non human entities. It seemed representatives from every race on the continent had gathered here.


    At the center of the deck, a faintly glowing crystal rested in a circular formation. The entire arrangement gave the impression of a ritual having taken place. A chill ran down everyone''s spines.


    Miaomiao''s voice quivered as she pointed toward the crystal. [Michael, that''s my grandfather''s core.]


    Michael tried to comfort Miaomiao, whose head hung low as she gazed at the glowing core, radiant like a precious gemstone.


    [It''s fine. Just finding a trace of my grandfather is enough,] she said, forcing a smile to mask her sorrow.


    Michael asked quietly, "What happened here for so many people to die in this manner?"


    The scene before them was deeply unsettling¡ªskeletons that had maintained their forms for 25,000 years.


    Miaomiao slowly walked toward the core, her eyes fixed on its luminescence. As she placed her paw on it, a deep, powerful voice reverberated through the air.


    [My descendant, you have finally come.]


    A massive spectral Sphinx appeared, towering above them.


    "So large..." Michael thought, awestruck, his mouth slightly agape. And so majestic.


    The apparition''s form was sleek and agile, reminiscent of a jaguar. Though it bore a resemblance to Miaomiao, its amber eyes and the intense glow radiating from them spoke of unparalleled strength in life. Its glossy black fur was particularly long around its head and chin, giving it an air of regality.


    The Garetts immediately prostrated themselves in reverence. Miaomiao reached out a paw toward the specter as if to embrace it, but her paw passed through the intangible image.


    With a sorrowful tone, the apparition spoke again. [You must be my granddaughter. It brings me joy to see you, even in this way.]


    [Yes, I am Nefertari Hatshepsut Sphinx. Grandfather! What happened to you? How did things come to this?]


    Akhenaten looked upward at the cavern''s ceiling and let out a harrowing roar of anguish. His voice, filled with fury, resentment and anger, echoed throughout the cavern.


    [We were betrayed!]


    The shocking declaration left the group holding their breath, awaiting his next words.


    [When the Vesuth Volcano was discovered to be on the verge of eruption, every intelligent being on the continent convened,] Akhenaten began, his tone steadying as he recounted the events. [The assembly decided that the eruption and its aftermath must be stopped at all costs. Three hundred of the continent''s strongest beings were divided into two groups. The first team, tasked with sealing the volcano, carried an enormous collection of mana stones contributed by all the continent''s people. The scale was staggering¡ªenough to fill a thousand spatial rings completely.]


    Akhenaten''s gaze grew distant as if he were staring through the cavern walls into the past.


    [Even with that many mana stones, it was only enough to activate the first group''s magic circle. The second team was tasked with channeling lava and ash toward the sea, a monumental endeavor that required breaching a path through the volcanic conduits. To achieve this, we decided to harness the power of an ancient god.]


    His eyes hardened. [The power of an ancient god is a double edged sword. Mishandling it could lead to a catastrophic backlash that would annihilate us all. But we had no choice. This tomb was the only one left intact, housing two divine remains. Even that wasn''t enough¡ªwe had to gather every fragment of the ancient gods scattered across the continent. The strongest among us were all assigned to the second team, myself included.]


    Pride flickered across Akhenaten''s spectral visage. Michael realized that Miaomiao had inherited that trait. Or perhaps, it was the other way around.

 Chapter 114 - 114 A Larger Scheme!

    [As the tomb''s guardian, I wrestled with my duty, but for the continent''s safety¡ªand for my unborn child¡ªI made my decision. I dismantled the protective barriers and brought the two divine remains here. As we pooled our strength, a traitor revealed their hand.]


    Akhenaten''s jaw clenched, his fury resonating throughout the cavern. The air itself seemed to vibrate with his anger, causing the walls to hum ominously. Even as a mere apparition, his power was palpable¡ªa testament to his status as one of the ancient era''s strongest beings.


    [The traitor absorbed the power of the two divine remains and every fragment of the ancient gods we had gathered. We only realized what was happening far too late. We assumed the energy was being drawn into the magic circle, but by the time we discovered the truth, the power had already been stolen.]


    The vibrations grew louder, and debris began falling from the ceiling. Akhenaten took a moment to compose himself, and the cavern stilled once more.


    [Breaking our concentration could have caused a catastrophic backlash that would''ve annihilated us all. The traitor, having absorbed all the divine power, attacked us, disrupting the delicate balance of energy. We collapsed, coughing blood, while he escaped unscathed. Pursuing him was futile¡ªwe couldn''t retrieve the stolen power. Absorbing that much divine energy should have caused countless backlashes, yet he showed no signs of strain. It was... unheard of.]


    He sighed, his tone tinged with bitterness.


    Michael felt a growing tension, his unease mirrored in Miaomiao''s anxious gaze. The mention of absorbing divine power struck uncomfortably close to Michael''s own abilities.


    [We tried contacting the first team using the Whisper of Tears earrings,] Akhenaten continued. [But there was no response. When we reached their tomb, we found one earring left behind in its case.]


    A single tear rolled down Akhenaten''s ethereal face.


    Miaomiao''s voice trembled. [The first team... they were all killed, weren''t they? That explains why so few artifacts from the ancient gods remain¡ªthey return to their original locations when their owners die.]


    Akhenaten nodded silently.


    [Exactly. With no time to confirm if the first team had succeeded, I resorted to an ancient soul-binding ritual.]


    Miaomiao''s eyes widened in shock. [So that''s why everyone was positioned that way when they died!]


    Akhenaten looked at her with a mix of sorrow and affection, his gaze softening as he beheld his granddaughter.


    [Yes, it was painful to know I would never meet the child who was to be born, but we all agreed to give our lives. Not one of us hesitated,] Akhenaten said, his voice filled with solemn resolve. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Tears streamed down Miaomiao''s small face. Sobbing, she turned to Michael and explained, [The soul-binding ritual... It requires a being of great power to willingly extract their own heart, offering their soul and magic as a sacrifice. It''s the ultimate ritual, demanding the ultimate sacrifice...]


    Her words broke off into uncontrollable sobs. If Akhenaten''s account was true, then apart from the traitor, 149 of the continent''s strongest beings had willingly sacrificed themselves for the survival of all.


    Michael and the group bowed deeply toward Akhenaten and the remains scattered on the deck, their expressions filled with reverence.


    [Through everyone''s sacrifice, the ritual succeeded. We watched the magic circle activate as we passed away. There is no regret in that choice, only sorrow that I could not remain to protect you,] Akhenaten said, his gaze tender as he looked at Miaomiao.


    She smiled back through her tears. [You''re leaving soon, aren''t you? If there''s anything you''d like me to convey, please tell me. I''ll make sure your message is delivered.]


    Akhenaten beckoned her closer and whispered softly. Miaomiao''s face lit up with a radiant smile. [Yes, I''ll make sure to tell them, Grandfather.]


    His expression composed, Akhenaten addressed the entire group.


    [As the ritual''s executor, I remained as this projection, but my comrades could not even leave their final words. I do not know if their descendants survive, but the only thing I can hope for now is vengeance.]


    Michael hesitated. "It''s been 25,000 years since those events. Even if you sought revenge, your target..."


    Akhenaten shook his head, cutting Michael off. [At some point, I could no longer speak the traitor''s name. After absorbing that much power, he ascended to godhood. His name is Lu*#%@.]


    The end of the name was distorted, as though another force intervened. Ignoring it, Akhenaten continued.


    [I do not know what religion he may have founded, but I trust you can uncover it. No faith built by such a being could be righteous. Destroy it. It will be a difficult path, but I ask this of you... even if it is only an effort. Will you swear to this?]


    Michael thought of the Radiance Church, believed to have originated 15,000 years ago. Could it be that this betrayal dated back 25,000 years? He shook his head quickly. Until he had the strength, it was too dangerous to reveal hostility toward such an entity.


    Miaomiao seemed to share his realization, exchanging a meaningful look with Michael. Together, they swore their pledge to Akhenaten.


    Once again, fate seemed to bind them to a larger scheme. Was this destiny''s cruel jest?


    As the others made their vows, satisfaction spread across Akhenaten''s face. From within his form, he produced a scroll.


    [Here is a record of the comrades who perished with me and the artifacts of the ancient gods they carried. I''ve marked the locations of their tombs. While the methods to breach their defenses change constantly, knowing the locations will allow Nefertari and the Garetts to assist. Imagine, a tomb guardian encouraging grave-robbing! Hahaha! My granddaughter, absorb the remaining cores here and grow stronger.]


    Pausing, Akhenaten turned to Michael with a serious expression.


    [Should you find any descendants of my comrades and see them struggling, would you take care of them?]


    Michael nodded confidently. [Of course. Seeing the descendants of such noble sacrifices suffer would be unacceptable. I''ll do everything I can to help.]

 Chapter 115 - 115 Laness Spear

    Relief washed over Akhenaten''s face as he threw his head back and roared to the cavern''s ceiling.


    [I, Akhenaten Memphis Sphinx, have lived my life as a true Sphinx! Now, I have no regrets left!]


    His projection began to fade, breaking into golden particles that scattered into the air like grains of sand in the wind.


    Simultaneously, the skeletal remains on the deck dissolved into golden light, dispersing and filling the cavern with a serene glow. After thousands of years, the fallen could finally rest.


    Miaomiao reached out as if to grasp the particles but let her paw fall limply, lowering her head. Her tears sparkled as they dropped onto the dark wooden deck.


    Marcus unfolded his large wings to shield her as she wept, offering silent comfort. The Garetts watched their lord''s departure with somber expressions, crossing their forepaws over their chests in a solemn salute.


    Michael gently consoled Miaomiao, gazing into the distance. He almost felt as if he could see the heroes of 25,000 years ago, laughing and joking as they moved on. They seemed content.


    After a moment of silence, the group gathered the remaining robes and armor from the ship. They knew their future opponents would be formidable, and every bit of strength would count.


    Michael turned to Miaomiao, who was sweeping the deck absentmindedly with her tail, the collected cores piled nearby.


    "Come to think of it, this ship was supposed to be magical, right?" Michael asked, hoping to lighten the mood.


    Startled, Miaomiao replied, [Yes. This is an heirloom of my family. It''s an ancient artifact that operates autonomously, disperses mist to conceal its movements, and can even call upon sea beasts for aid. It has a permanent spatial enchantment, making it far larger than it appears.]


    Michael''s mind raced with possibilities for the ship''s use, a sly smile spreading across his face. Yes, that would work perfectly.


    Noticing his expression, Miaomiao and Marcus exchanged worried glances and shook their heads.


    Whenever Michael smiled like that, it meant trouble.


    The group decided to rest before setting out again. The ancient scroll needed to be examined carefully.


    The ship''s cabin was clean and surprisingly comfortable, with each room even equipped with its own bathroom¡ªa luxury Michael hadn''t expected.


    "This is a great ship. Thanks, Miaomiao," Michael said appreciatively.


    [Even I had only heard about it. It''s much better than I imagined,] Miaomiao replied.


    Gathering in the common area, the group unfurled the scroll to review its contents. Fortunately, the list of artifacts was organized by proximity to the Draco Mountain Range.


    The first item that caught their attention was Ianes''s Spear.


    Ianes''s Spear S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The legendary spearman, Curse, entrusted this artifact. Ianes''s Spear can strike any target within 3 kilometers with perfect accuracy three times a day. After each strike, the spear automatically returns to the wielder. Once the three uses are exhausted, it functions as a normal spear, though the return feature remains permanently active. Use it wisely!


    Michael couldn''t help but cheer inwardly. Though he primarily used a bow, a spear was an essential weapon for a knight. The prospect of adding this artifact to his arsenal thrilled him.


    After noting its location, he estimated that with proper time management, they could retrieve it before the day ended. His gaze fell on Marcus.


    Feeling Michael''s eyes on him, Marcus raised a paw. [One hundred gold!]


    Michael grumbled to himself. Darn, I''ve raised a greedy tiger.


    Still, he nodded. It wasn''t a bad deal, after all. "Fine. Payment will be in vouchers."


    [Perfect! Gold-embossed vouchers!] Marcus agreed enthusiastically.


    [Before we leave, I need to absorb the cores here,] Miaomiao said. [I''ll use this cabin, so you all rest in the others.]


    Michael vacated the space for her, while Marcus and the Garetts disappeared into the cabins they''d picked. Surprisingly, the gargoyles could shrink themselves to a mere 50 centimeters, resembling tiny dinosaurs from the opening scene of a certain dinosaur movie¡ªa sight that made Michael clutch his chest. For a dinosaur enthusiast like him, it was almost too much.


    Left alone, Michael began sketching a rough map of the continent, plotting the locations of the 15 artifacts listed on the scroll. If he could secure them all, his collection would surpass anyone else''s on the entire continent.


    Once he finalized the route, Michael moved on to his next task: identifying the form in which the next person to awaken might be entombed.


    He wracked his brain for something he''d read in the royal library¡ªmemories of intriguing texts about tombs and rituals.


    Conveniently, the location turned out to be a mandragora field. No wonder the mandragoras there are so large and abundant... It seems every criminal in the world has been buried there.


    With his plans complete, Michael lay down on the bed, closing his eyes. His thoughts drifted from artifacts to ancient gods, divine energy, and betrayal before sleep claimed him.


    He awoke to Miaomiao patting his cheek insistently.


    "Wow, I feel great. How long did I sleep?" Michael asked groggily.


    [You slept like a log. It''s been eight hours,] Miaomiao replied.


    "What? Eight hours? No wonder I''m starving. Let''s head out; we''re already late."


    [Everyone''s ready. You''re the last one,] she teased, giggling as Michael scrambled to get ready.


    The group flew to the coastal area beyond the Draco Mountain Range, successfully excavating the tomb of the ancient god and retrieving Ianes''s Spear.


    The journey turned out to be easier than expected, and the rewards were more than satisfying. The return trip was smooth, taking just two and a half hours from the coastal cave to the mine.


    Upon arriving at the mine, they faced a dilemma.


    "What should we do about this hole?" Michael asked. "If we just cover it up, people will get curious."


    The problem was resolved quickly when Garett stepped forward, offering to use his guardian abilities. Pressing his paw to the ground, he chanted an incantation, causing the hole to seal seamlessly as if it had never existed.


    [Now, access will only be possible if accompanied by Lady Nefertari or myself,] Garett explained.


    Michael mused. I should really give these guys a raise. They''re amazing.

 Chapter 116 - 116 Baron Kensington Visite

    Outside, rain poured steadily. The Garetts seemed delighted by the rare sight, some tasting the raindrops with their tongues while others spread their wings to soar through the drizzle.


    Meanwhile, the mine remained idle, awaiting the go-ahead to resume operations. Michael called the overseer, assuring him that all toxic gases in the tunnels had been cleared and that work could safely resume.


    The nervous overseer beamed with relief, quickly summoning the miners. Their cheers filled the air.


    "Thank you, Sir Michael!"


    "You''ve saved us yet again!"


    "Not only did you give us jobs, but you also care about our safety. We''re forever grateful!"


    Michael waved at the grateful miners, smiling as he watched their worn faces brighten with joy. Seeing the once-haggard people laugh and express their gratitude felt even better than acquiring rare artifacts.


    So this is the satisfaction of being recognized.


    Returning to the now-familiar tent, Michael was greeted by Leonardo, who practically leapt toward him, his pupils dilated with excitement.


    "Master! I''ve prepared everything for the task you assigned me!"


    Leonardo''s intensity was overwhelming, prompting Michael to take a step back. Yet, seeing the determination in his eyes, Michael couldn''t help but feel a pang of sympathy.


    He''s worked so hard.


    "Alright. What have you done?" Michael asked.


    "I heard from Isfer that you needed to deal with troublemakers requiring persuasion and hypnosis. I''ve perfected the process to make them completely compliant to your wishes!"


    Michael''s eyes darted to the corner of the tent in alarm. The miner he had seen earlier was tied to a post, his face pale and expression blank. He looked utterly terrified, as if his wits had abandoned him.


    "Just adjust his memory a little," Michael instructed Leonardo. "And hold off on anything extreme for now."


    Leonardo''s face fell with disappointment.


    As Leonardo approached the miner, the man began to sob uncontrollably.


    "Please, let me go! I swear I won''t say a word to anyone! Have mercy! I have kids as sweet as rabbits and a wife as strong as a bear. Please don''t take me away from them..."


    The miner was inconsolable, leaving Michael no choice but to signal Leonardo to put him to sleep. After the miner collapsed into unconsciousness, Michael carried him to the bed.


    "Make him remember discovering toxic gas in the mine, reporting it to me, and then collapsing from gas poisoning. Can you handle that?"


    Leonardo perked up, nodding enthusiastically. "Of course, Master! For you, I would even walk into a pit of fire¡ª"


    "Skip the fire-walking and focus on this first," Michael said wearily.


    Leonardo got to work, meticulously altering the miner''s memories. Soon, the man awoke, a mix of gratitude and confusion etched on his face.


    "Thank you, my lord! A simple man like me doesn''t deserve to be treated so kindly," the miner said, bowing deeply.


    Michael rewarded him with a cow, 50 gold, and a piece of prime farmland. The miner left the tent beaming with gratitude, his joy evident in the way he carried himself.


    After sending the miner on his way, Michael set about tackling a backlog of paperwork. Leonardo''s endless praise served as an amusing background noise, making the task pass quickly.


    With his work complete, Michael stood, preparing to visit the castle currently undergoing repairs.


    At the castle, Michael was met with unexpected guests: Baron Kensington and Louis, the youngest son of Count Charles.


    Louis appeared utterly infatuated with Elizabeth, his ears flushed red as he hung on her every word. He didn''t even notice Michael''s arrival.


    Baron Kensington, however, greeted Michael with his usual hearty smile, striding over to clap him on the shoulder.


    "Michael," the baron began bluntly, "why on earth did you choose this fief? I was a bit puzzled before, but after hearing more, I felt I had to come and ask you myself."


    The baron paused, glancing at Michael to gauge his reaction. Fortunately, Michael''s expression remained calm, encouraging him to continue. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "You could''ve claimed more fertile land, but you picked this place instead? Sure, it''s in a basin, but the soil here isn''t as productive as richer lands¡ªit yields less than 80% of what fertile fields can produce. At first, I thought it might be because of the mines, but do you realize the iron here is of poor quality? Mining it will only ruin the land further."


    Michael smiled warmly, sensing the baron''s genuine concern. He had noticed the <Friendship> marker glowing above Kensington''s head earlier, leaving no doubt about his sincerity.


    "Brother Vincent, I appreciate your concern," Michael replied. "But the situation here isn''t as bad as it seems. While it''s true that grain production is lower, this region is vast. The plateau by the lake, for instance, is incredibly fertile and well-suited for livestock. We''ve already started grazing animals there."


    Michael gestured toward the plateau.


    "There''s also marshland near the lake that can be drained and cultivated. My previous fief was fertile but small, and we were bound by a non-aggression pact with neighboring territories, leaving no room for growth. After much discussion with my father, I decided this fief had the most potential for development. There''s plenty of unclaimed land near the mountains and in the surrounding area. Its remoteness has kept others from coveting it."


    He chuckled softly before his tone grew serious.


    "This war, like many before it, is unlikely to be conclusive. When it ends, noble scions seeking to make their mark will swarm the northwest and south. Where will they aim their ambitions next? Not this barren land¡ªthey''ll target Crawley territory and other abandoned lands. It''s better to quietly cultivate this area than risk being caught in a struggle between titans."


    The baron''s expression grew increasingly serious as Michael spoke.


    "Given this, I''ve gathered many knights and mages to help secure and develop the territory. It''s a long-term investment, but one I''m confident in."


    The best way to persuade someone is to mix truth with deception.


    Reassured, Baron Kensington nodded. "Well, I''m glad to hear that. I was starting to worry after hearing so much talk about it... I thought you might''ve made a mistake."


    He scratched his head sheepishly.


    Michael smiled knowingly. "You must have another reason for visiting, though, don''t you?"

 Chapter 117 - 117 Negotiation

    The baron laughed heartily. "Caught me. I wanted to see the magical beasts."


    Of course, a beast enthusiast.


    Michael pointed toward a clearing behind the castle. "That''s where the beast tamers are training them. Half of them are on duty while the rest are being trained¡ªyou''ll get your fill there."


    Delighted, Baron Kensington strode off eagerly.


    Michael turned his attention to Louis and Elizabeth. Even without paying much attention, it was clear Louis was utterly smitten, while Elizabeth seemed barely tolerating his presence, suppressing her irritation.


    Determined to rescue his sister, Michael stepped in.


    "What brings you here, Sir Louis?" he asked.


    Startled, Louis snapped out of his reverie. "Ah, Sir Michael. I didn''t see you there."


    Seizing the moment, Elizabeth made her escape.


    "Since Michael is here, I''ll take my leave. I have much to attend to. My apologies, Sir Louis. I hope you enjoy your visit."


    Louis stared wistfully after her retreating figure.


    "Sir Louis?" Michael prompted, snapping him back to reality.


    "Oh, apologies, Sir Michael. My father sent me with a letter for you."


    Michael accepted the letter, quickly skimming its contents. The information it contained was unexpectedly helpful, leaving him momentarily stunned.


    Why would they share this?


    A glance at Louis''s na?ve expression clarified things. The young noble was an open book, making him the perfect conduit for such exchanges.


    No harm in returning the favor, Michael decided.


    "There are many knights and mages from the capital staying here," he said to Louis. "Why not spend some time getting to know them? You''re welcome to stay."


    The Duke of Rochester, one of the five great dukes of the Kingdom of Lania and the leader of the northwestern nobility, was in a private meeting with his illegitimate son, Philip.


    Philip was the son he had with Esmeralda, a stunning beauty who had retained her place as the duke''s mistress for 20 years. The duke had ensured Philip''s rise to the rank of baron through generous allocations of military merit. Now, however, it was time to send Philip elsewhere.


    "This will be your foundation," the duke said firmly. "Go there and make something of yourself."


    Philip, who had inherited his mother''s striking features, met his father''s gaze with resignation. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Yes," he sighed. "It''s clear that staying here will only lead to further clashes with my brother."


    Despite his outward acceptance, Philip couldn''t help but feel the sting of injustice. He was confident that his talents were at least equal to, if not greater than, those of his elder brother. Yet, his birthright¡ªor lack thereof¡ªwas an insurmountable barrier.


    Though the duke clearly favored Esmeralda and Philip over his legitimate family, the kingdom''s inheritance laws were unyielding. As long as the duke had a legitimate wife and heir, Philip remained a mere illegitimate son. Even if his legitimate brother were to die, the title would pass to another legitimate relative, leaving Philip even lower in the pecking order.


    The duke had shown care and affection for Philip, but he never allowed him to forget his station. Philip''s resources had always been lesser compared to his elder brother''s.


    Objectively, Philip''s situation was far from dire¡ªhe had achieved military success and secured a barony with his father''s support. But for Philip, it was never enough.


    He harbored a deep resentment for the sneers and whispers behind his back, for the failed marriage proposals caused by his precarious status. He saw himself as a victim, unable to recognize that much of his frustration stemmed from the unrealistic ambitions he and his mother harbored.


    Esmeralda, still breathtakingly beautiful in her thirties, tearfully pleaded with the duke on her son''s behalf.


    "Must Philip really go to that place? Isn''t there a way for him to remain here and earn more distinctions?"


    The duke sighed. "Esmeralda, try to understand my position. I can only provide so much support. And we must consider what will happen after I''m gone."


    Tears glistened in her large, expressive eyes as she clung to the duke. "Don''t say such things. How could Philip and I possibly live without you?"


    The duke spoke with measured patience. "That''s precisely why I''m saying this. If Philip establishes himself in the northeast, he won''t need to rely on Pavel''s goodwill in the future."


    Esmeralda''s sobs intensified. She wasn''t entirely opposed to her son leaving; she was calculating how to extract as many resources as possible for him before he left.


    The northeast, though not as barren as the northwest where frequent tribal raids occurred, was still a challenging place. However, with hard work, it could yield prosperity for generations, securing not only Philip''s future but also Esmeralda''s comfortable old age.


    Still, she aimed to push for the maximum support. Her tears, paired with a heartfelt plea the previous night, proved effective once again.


    The duke relented, granting ample resources for Philip''s relocation. As Esmeralda embraced the duke, she cast a sly smile at her son, her cunning evident beneath her maternal facade.


    Back in his tent after inspecting the progress of his estate''s development, Michael pulled out the letter he had skimmed earlier.


    The missive from Count Charles confirmed that a new baron, Philip, had been selected to take over the Crassus Barony.


    Reading through Philip''s background, Michael''s mind whirred with calculations.


    "An illegitimate son of the duke, showered with undeserved accolades? A favored but overindulged bastard? Excellent. He''s a prime target to squeeze for all he''s worth."


    Traditionally, when a new lord assumes control of a territory, they must compensate the outgoing lord for judicial rights and other administrative privileges. The kingdom often turned a blind eye to these transactions, understanding them as part of the transition process.


    Michael resolved to negotiate aggressively.


    The preparations for relocating his people were nearly complete. The village reconstruction was in its final stages, with the fire and earth mages having finished producing bricks, while the water and mist mages had completed the cleanup.


    Other mages were absorbed in unrelated tasks, and the time had come to move the estate''s residents.

 Chapter 118 - 118 Where Did The Botans Go

    Knowing that news of his relocation had already reached Count Charles, Michael anticipated the arrival of the new baron soon. Before departing to assist with the relocation, however, there was one more task to address.


    With Miaomiao, Marcus, and the gargoyles in tow, Michael ventured into the Drago Mountains.


    His gaze softened as he looked at the loyal gargoyles. He planned to distribute the grenades being manufactured by Rabouin and his wife among them. Initially, he had considered using flying beasts brought by the knights, but the gargoyles'' reliability and lack of personal preferences made them ideal for the task.


    Michael unrolled a scroll, examining the next artifact on their list.


    Artifact: Ariadne''s Compass


    Recorded by Princess Medeia of the Kingdom of Kargotha


    "According to legend, this compass carries the will of the goddess Ariadne, who sought the most exceptional successor among her descendants. To use it, let a drop of blood fall on the compass. The threads of destiny connecting blood relatives will guide the compass to the most talented descendant. Eighty-five human heroes have contributed a drop of blood to this artifact in hopes of safeguarding their lineage. May their hopes guide you to nurture the gifted among their descendants."


    With 13 artifacts left to retrieve, Ariadne''s Compass was the nearest target. Though time had passed, the bloodlines were likely intact¡ªdestiny worked in predictable ways, especially in a world steeped in magic and mystery.


    Michael glanced down at the Ariadne''s Compass in his hand, its needle faintly glowing as it pointed toward a small group of itinerant slash-and-burn farmers trudging through the Drago Mountains.


    "It seems we''ve found them," he muttered to himself.


    The massive shadow of Marcus falling over the group sent them into immediate panic. They dropped their bundles and threw themselves to the ground in terror. Seeing a dragon in the mountains was rare, even in these wild regions.


    When Michael dismounted, however, their fear turned to sheer panic.


    "A knight! Run!" someone shouted, and the group scattered in all directions.


    "What the...?" Michael was taken aback.


    He quickly ordered the gargoyles to round up the fleeing farmers. Within minutes, their leader¡ªa wiry man with sharp features¡ªwas brought before Michael, trembling.


    "P-please, my lord," the man stammered, "we''re just humble people. Not criminals or runaway slaves, I swear it!"


    Michael raised a hand to calm him. "Relax. I''m not here to harm your people."


    He turned his attention back to the compass, which glowed brighter as he moved closer to the group. Walking among the gathered farmers, the needle eventually flared brightly and displayed an inscription:


    "Descendant of the barefoot hero of the plains, Botan, found."


    The compass''s light focused on a young boy with ebony skin and a wiry build. Michael stepped closer and gestured for the boy to stand.


    "You, boy," he said gently. "Come forward."


    The boy, visibly frightened, rose slowly. Despite his youth, his frame already showed the wiry strength typical of the tribe.


    The group was uniformly tall and muscular, their physique a testament to the hardships of life in the dangerous mountains. If Botan''s legendary blood ran through this tribe, the boy must be an exceptional prodigy.


    "I am Michael von Crassus," Michael introduced himself. "I''ve recently settled in the lands beyond the mountains. May I ask where your people are headed?"


    The leader hesitated, his gaze darting nervously between Michael and Marcus. "W-we were relocating, my lord. The movements of the beasts have been unsettling of late." Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael nodded, his suspicion confirmed. "It seems you''ve endured much. I''d like to invite you and your people to settle in my lands. Life in the mountains is harsh and unforgiving. In my territory, you''ll have stability and opportunities to thrive."


    The farmers exchanged uncertain glances, whispering among themselves. Finally, the leader voiced the group''s apprehension.


    "Forgive me, my lord, but... we are simple folk, uneducated and unworthy. Wouldn''t we risk becoming slaves or worse?"


    Michael smiled reassuringly, pointing to Marcus.


    "I am a dragon knight," he declared. "I swear on my dragon''s honor that no harm will come to you. My lands are newly founded, and the possibilities are endless. There will be no discrimination, and if anyone troubles you, you may come to me directly. Your efforts will be rewarded with land and a place to call your own. Isn''t that what you seek?"


    The group murmured among themselves, clearly tempted.


    "I will waive all taxes for three years," Michael added, driving the final nail into their doubts. "This, I guarantee in the name of Michael von Crassus, heir of the Crassus estate."


    After some deliberation, the leader bowed deeply.


    "Very well, my lord. We will follow you. But... we have kin scattered across the mountains. May they join us as well?"


    Michael''s smile widened. "Of course. The more, the better."


    The leader''s request was calculated; with more numbers, they could secure greater influence in the new territory. Michael, however, welcomed the prospect. The more people he brought to his land, the faster he could establish a thriving settlement.


    As he surveyed the tribe, his mind raced with possibilities. Their powerful physiques and combat potential would make them invaluable as soldiers.


    Over the next several days, Michael swept through the Drago Mountains, gathering the scattered tribes of the Botan people and escorting them to his lands.


    Meanwhile, Philip, the illegitimate son of the Duke of Rochester, was on a parallel mission. Tasked with revitalizing his newly granted barony, he sought to recruit the Botan people as residents.


    His plan was straightforward: present the tribe with gifts and convince them to join him.


    "This will be easy," the merchant accompanying Philip had assured him. "I''ve traded with them for years. A few trinkets, and they''ll come running."


    However, reality proved otherwise.


    At their fifth empty encampment, Philip was fuming. Signs of recent habitation were evident, but the people themselves were gone.


    "I don''t understand," he muttered. "They were here just a few days ago!"


    The merchant looked equally baffled, shifting nervously.


    "Perhaps they all migrated together?" he offered weakly.


    Philip clenched his fists, glaring at the untouched gifts piled behind him.


    Unbeknownst to him, the Botan people had already moved to Michael''s territory, leaving Philip and his grand plans in the dust.


    "Damn it all," Philip muttered, staring at the abandoned campsite. "Where did they all go?"

 Chapter 119 - 119 Philip

    The members of the Botana tribe could not hide their admiration as they surveyed the land they had come to inhabit. The same was true for the former residents of the domain who had relocated to this territory.


    Having acquired homes that were significantly larger and cleaner than their previous dwellings, they were greatly satisfied. What particularly delighted them were the glass windows. In the past, only the wealthiest of the domain''s residents could afford glass windows, but now, every house was equipped with them.


    The improvements did not stop there. The roads were neatly arranged, and each district had pumps installed to provide warm water. In front of these pumps, there were designated areas for laundry and separate bathhouses for men and women. Soldiers patrolled the vicinity of the pumps and bathhouses to ensure security.


    "Now we can bathe as much as we like." "It''ll be much easier to do the laundry too."


    Inspired by the concept of Roman bathhouses and laundries, Damian had initiated their construction with the goal of improving hygiene. While the aristocrats fared relatively well in terms of cleanliness, the general populace of the domain often struggled with poor hygiene, leading to frequent outbreaks of disease.


    Fortunately, unlike in the medieval periods of Damian''s previous world, there were no negative perceptions surrounding bathing. The problem was simply the difficulty of the process. For the common people, taking a bath required fetching a significant amount of water, heating it, and then disposing of the used water afterward¡ªan arduous task.


    "Mother, come here! The floor is warm!"


    Hearing her daughter''s call, a woman approached and gasped in astonishment. The floor was indeed warm.


    In the northern regions, the winter winds were piercingly cold, and even in summer, the temperature rarely exceeded 25 degrees Celsius. Taking these natural conditions into account, Damian had designed a system where underground water heated the floors of every house.


    This achievement was made possible by the efforts and sacrifices of the Lava and Metallurgy schools. While Damian would have liked to install individual pumps in every household, there were limitations.


    He divided the settlements into ten districts, with approximately 3,000 people per village, totaling around 15,000 residents. This number included serfs, freemen, and the newly arrived members of the Botana tribe. However, it was still far from sufficient. The land was now nearly five times larger than before, yet the population was nowhere near enough to fully utilize it. This was an issue that only time could resolve.


    Fortunately, the Crassus family''s reputation was decent, making it possible to bring over all the former residents of the territory. Of course, promises of larger farmlands and new homes played a role in persuading them.


    Thanks to Damian''s various revenue sources, he did not need to impose additional investments on the freemen. Moreover, those who relocated to the new domain were exempted from taxes for a year. This incentive played a major role in ensuring that all the freemen decided to follow.


    Additionally, the sight of Damian traveling with a dragon and a sphinx helped convince the people. A powerful domain was beneficial to its inhabitants.


    Although the new lord, who had inherited an empty domain, might see it as a misfortune, there was nothing to be done. As Damian observed the newly settled residents with satisfaction, he made his way toward the castle. It was time to summon Philip, who had taken over the previous domain. The tax revenue lost due to the relocation of residents needed to be compensated, and Philip would have to bear that burden. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Philip, feeling dejected, returned to his tent without having seen a single trace of the Botana tribe. He had climbed the mountains, investing valuable time in search of them, only to achieve nothing.


    Just then, a gargoyle descended before him, carrying a message from the Crassus family.


    "The Crassus family invites Baron Philip. This meeting is to discuss the rights associated with the former territories of the Crassus family. We ask that you do not decline, and we wish you blessings on your journey to the domain."


    The messenger read the letter in a clear, authoritative voice. Philip''s expression twisted with irritation as he looked at the gargoyle, its wings folded neatly as it stood before him. He had heard rumors that Damian had contracted a dragon and a sphinx, but now there was even a gargoyle?


    Suddenly, the fact that he had to rely on horseback for travel, without a single magical beast of his own, made him feel pitiful.


    Turning to his retainer, he asked, "Do I really have to stop by this new domain? Couldn''t they just come to my castle later and sell the rights?"


    The retainer, after a brief hesitation, answered, "Wouldn''t it be better to secure the rights before arriving at your domain? This way, you can avoid any unnecessary disputes later. Besides, it is along the way."


    Realizing he had no choice, Philip took the letter from the messenger and said, "Inform them that I will visit soon."


    As soon as he spoke, the messenger immediately soared into the sky, an action that only deepened Philip''s irritation.


    The journey with the 800 soldiers his father had assigned him, along with their families, was grueling. To avoid potential attacks from magical beasts, they had to take a detour around the mountains, which consumed both time and supplies.


    While traveling within the Northwestern Province was relatively manageable, the journey became more difficult as they entered the Northeastern Province. Tensions rose, and food supplies, which they had expected to replenish along the way, turned out to be exorbitantly priced. The noble lords of the Northeastern Province demanded extortionate rates, seemingly unwilling to make any compromises.


    It became clear that Philip''s acquisition of the Crassus domain had displeased the established noble families. Yet, there was no other option. No matter how expensive, he could not allow his soldiers and their families to starve.


    The hardships of this journey made him nostalgic for the past. Even though he was born a bastard, he had at least enjoyed his father''s support before.

 Chapter 120 - 120 What Kind Of Scoundrels Are These

    After much difficulty, Philip and his entourage finally reached the new domain of the Crassus family. As they passed through the village at the base of the castle, he was struck with disbelief.


    The merchant who had accompanied him on the journey to search for the Botana tribe in the mountains was equally astonished.


    ''Why on earth is the Botana tribe here?''


    The tall, dark-skinned members of the tribe were walking openly through the village, chatting and laughing with the former residents as if they had already assimilated.


    Philip was dumbfounded.


    "Merchant, what is the meaning of this? Aren''t those people the Botana tribe you spoke of?"


    While the merchant was struggling to find an appropriate response, a familiar Botana tribesman approached Philip and initiated a conversation.


    "No way, aren''t you Ivan? I was feeling guilty for coming here without informing your trading company, but what a coincidence! We somehow ended up settling here. Haha. It''s a great place to live."


    Ivan felt doomed and clutched his head inwardly. He had planned to claim that he didn''t know this Botana tribe, but now that excuse was no longer viable.


    Philip''s gaze narrowed as he looked at Ivan, expecting an explanation. However, Ivan was at a loss for words.


    No, when I was here last time, there was no mention of anything like this.


    The more one tried to explain in situations like this, the stranger it became. In the end, Ivan gave up on justifying himself. It seemed best to get away from this group and find a way to survive.


    He had initially planned to invest in the new lord, having heard rumors that he was the illegitimate son of a duke, hoping to expand his trading company. But now, with things as they were, he reconsidered¡ªperhaps it would be better to establish trade with the newly emerging Crassus territory.


    The more he thought about it, the more reasonable the idea seemed. Ivan surveyed his surroundings. The well-maintained roads and the attire of the townspeople indicated that the territory''s economy was in decent shape. His mind gradually leaned toward investing in Crassus.


    Meanwhile, Philip continued to resent the merchant, unaware that Ivan had already lost the opportunity to invest his trading company''s resources in the territory. Philip believed he had been deceived by Ivan''s claims about an uncertain tribal migration. Even when he saw the trading company falling behind the group, he merely assumed it was because of their guilty conscience.


    I should never have taken the words of a mere merchant so seriously.


    As he entertained thoughts unbecoming of a lord, Philip entered the castle.


    The moment he stepped inside, an enormous red dragon came into view. Its vertically slit golden eyes gleamed menacingly, sending a shiver down his spine.


    They actually ride monsters like that?


    Feeling intimidated, Philip awkwardly sidestepped to avoid the dragon. He didn''t even consider that Damian had deliberately arranged such an intimidating welcome.


    As he turned, he was met with the sight of a sphinx lying lazily on the ground, adorned with a golden collar. Instinctively avoiding the dragon, Philip had unknowingly walked into the territory of another magical beast.


    The sphinx let out a low growl, startling Philip. Nearby, a large feline creature, Miaomiao, licked its sharp claws, fixing its piercing gaze on him. Surrounding them were a dozen gargoyles, adding to the oppressive atmosphere.


    Philip, overwhelmed by the silent intimidation, froze in fear. Though he was the illegitimate son of a duke and had encountered magical beasts before, he had never witnessed such a scene.


    Damian approached Philip, greeting him with a composed demeanor. His long black hair was tied tightly behind his head, adding to his imposing presence. The black armor he wore¡ªits material unknown¡ªmade him appear even more formidable.


    From his higher vantage point, Damian extended a hand for a handshake. As Philip took it, he felt a pang of self-doubt. He had never considered himself short or unattractive, yet he suddenly felt insignificant.


    "Now, rather than standing around here, let''s head inside. We have much to discuss, don''t we?"


    With that, Philip followed Damian into the castle''s office. He wanted to conclude the business swiftly and establish himself as a dignified lord.


    Inside, Dominic was already waiting.


    "Welcome to our territory. I heard you earned great merits in the Northwestern campaign. I look forward to your future accomplishments on the battlefield."


    There was no need to bring up the uncomfortable truth that Philip had only received those merits due to his noble lineage.


    "Our family holds the rights to passage, hunting, and judicial authority in this land. Here is the official decree from His Majesty recognizing these rights."


    "I understand, but since the territory has now passed into my hands, aren''t these rights practically meaningless?"


    "Well¡­ Are you aware that our family has a non-aggression pact with neighboring territories? If you don''t pay a sufficient price, we could always sell these rights to them."


    "You wouldn''t dare! Selling off rights attached to my territory to another land¡­"


    In negotiations like these, the one who raised their voice first was at a disadvantage.


    Damian interjected smoothly, playing the role of the intermediary.


    "Of course, selling to another territory should be avoided. As long as you show the appropriate sincerity, that won''t be necessary."


    Philip frowned. What exactly does ''appropriate sincerity'' mean?


    "If it''s just a reasonable gesture of sincerity, I can pay. But if you''re exploiting the situation for an unfair profit¡ª"


    "Unfair profit?" Dominic scoffed. "We are simply selling our rightful claims. Our family cultivated this land from barren wilderness into what it is today. The forests are rich with game, and the judicial fines we collect annually are quite profitable. We also collect significant tolls from merchants passing through. Given all this, we are requesting ten years'' worth of the current territory''s revenue."


    Philip''s eyes widened in disbelief. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Ten years'' worth of revenue? Just how much is that?"


    "Around 200,000 gold should suffice."


    "200,000 gold?! That''s absurd! Do you know how much money will be needed to develop the territory further?"


    "Then we have no choice but to sell to a neighboring lord."


    "That would be a shame, Father," Damian chimed in. "200,000 gold isn''t an unreasonable sum, yet look how he reacts to our generosity. We might as well look elsewhere."


    Philip fumed. What kind of scoundrels are these?

 Chapter 121 - 121 Negotiation

    "That''s too much! Let''s negotiate. I can go up to 100,000 gold."


    Considering the money Damian had already accumulated, the amount wasn''t too significant. However, this was a matter of pride.


    "100,000 is too low. 180,000."


    "120,000!"


    "170,000!"


    Philip''s glare intensified as he locked eyes with Dominic and Damian. But then, he caught sight of the dragon''s massive eye peeking through the office window. The dragon slightly parted its mouth, revealing rows of menacing fangs.


    Philip''s resolve crumbled.


    "¡­150,000. Let''s settle at 150,000."


    Defeated, he lowered his head.


    Dominic and Damian exchanged triumphant smiles. In truth, selling the rights to another territory had never been a real option. Even so, securing 150,000 gold was still a substantial gain.


    Philip''s mind was in turmoil.


    He already missed his father.


    Here, even the duke''s influence held no power.


    They actually used a dragon to intimidate me¡­ What kind of situation is this?


    Having completed the relocation of his subjects and disposed of the rights to his old territory, Michael felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Now, he could focus entirely on his new domain. Watching the fields of the developing frontier gradually take shape filled him with pride.


    The highlands, untouched by human hands for years, were transforming into fertile farmland as the development progressed. Although the first harvest would not be abundant, it was expected to yield enough crops to sustain the settlers. Even so, Michael lamented the severe shortage of manpower compared to the vast expanse of land. Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Despite bringing over all the freemen from Crassus, summoning the former Iron Valley residents, and even incorporating the Botana tribe, the population was still insufficient. However, since Michael had been generous in granting land, he anticipated that the harvest would improve significantly next year.


    While the temporary tax exemptions caused a dip in the estate''s finances, this was a necessary investment. After all, a prosperous populace meant a prosperous lord. The contributions of the serfs from the southern regions stood out in particular. Compared to the barren north, the south''s advanced agricultural techniques were instrumental in enriching the soil.


    Michael also paid a visit to the reopened mines. Mining operations, inherently labor-intensive, required significant manpower at every stage¡ªfrom extraction and refinement to smelting and casting. These mines were destined to become a primary source of revenue for the new Crassus estate. To this end, Michael had gathered every blacksmith from the surrounding areas and even attracted some settlers by offering high wages.


    Young men eager to learn new skills and save money responded enthusiastically to recruitment efforts. Initially, the blacksmiths were hesitant when Michael shared his plans.


    "You don''t need to train apprentices. Each worker will handle a single task in the production process. This will make the work much easier. Trust me," Michael assured them.


    Vernon, the brick artisan, chimed in to support him. "That''s right. We were skeptical at first too, but the work indeed became faster. Sir Knight is someone you can trust."


    "But our craft is not so simple," one blacksmith countered. "Such methods won''t produce skilled blacksmiths."


    Michael remained steadfast. "What we need right now are not master blacksmiths but people who can complete their tasks quickly. Skilled blacksmiths might think they''re at a disadvantage in this system, but the reality is quite different."


    In an era when iron weapons and tools were handcrafted, blacksmiths were among the most well-compensated workers in the community. Many earned enough not only to cover living expenses but also to own multiple market stalls. This profitability stemmed from the scarcity of their trade, maintained through the apprenticeship system.


    Recognizing the potential resistance from entrenched blacksmiths, Michael devised a solution. "Those skilled in forging weapons and armor will have their livelihoods guaranteed. They will act as supervisors for each production stage and receive performance-based bonuses. Base pay for supervisors will be 10 gold per year, with additional incentives for smooth production lines."


    Since the plan didn''t aim for mass production of fine weapons and armor, as long as workers performed their assigned roles well, the system would suffice. One blacksmith asked cautiously, "So, we won''t have to hammer iron ourselves anymore?"


    Relieved at the prospect of avoiding grueling work under intense heat, the blacksmiths exchanged glances. If they only needed to teach one specific process, there was no risk of their skills being undermined or their status threatened.


    Thanks to the compromise between Michael and the blacksmiths, the clanging of iron echoed endlessly around the mines. With geothermal heat harnessed by mages and assistance from Marcus, high-quality iron was being produced in large quantities, surpassing expectations.


    "Sir Knight, could you take a look at these weapons?"


    Following Greg, the head blacksmith, Michael approached the busy operations at the mine''s edge. The forge, constructed along an extended waterway from the lake, was bustling with activity as ores were melted, iron was extracted, and products were crafted.


    Selling raw iron would have generated income, but producing and selling finished weapons was far more profitable. Greg, visibly nervous, presented newly forged swords, spearheads, and shields reinforced with iron, anxiously awaiting Michael''s evaluation.


    "The weapons... They''re not of great quality," Michael noted. "The iron itself isn''t bad, but most of these items have flaws that make it difficult to sell them at a fair price."


    Michael had not expected high-quality weapons from a basic mass-production system. Examining the swords, he noted inconsistent weights and lengths, while the spearheads lacked precision, potentially diminishing their lethality.


    Yet Michael found this outcome satisfactory. After all, these weapons weren''t intended for his army; they were meant for sale to other territories. Compared to wooden spears or shields, even these flawed iron weapons were far superior.


    Targeting cash-strapped nobles ensured a reliable demand for these products. Attempting to sell high-quality weapons on such a scale would have raised suspicions and potentially drawn attention from the royal family, given the strategic implications.


    "This level of quality is sufficient, so don''t worry about it," Michael said reassuringly. "Continue producing to this standard. The most important thing is to keep production costs low; there''s no need to strive for higher quality."

 Chapter 122 - 122 Where Is Everyone?

    Greg, who had been worried, let out a sigh of relief. Michael continued, "Produce 5,000 spearheads and shields within a month. That should be manageable, right?"


    Greg nodded confidently. While quality might have dropped after establishing the production line, the speed of manufacturing had increased dramatically.


    "Later, I''ll bring in high-quality iron. That''s when I''ll need you and the master blacksmiths to forge it yourselves," Michael added. "We''ll be using those items for our own troops."


    Greg''s eyes sparkled at the discreet order. Supervising had kept his hands itching for work, so he was more than ready. "Leave it to me. I''m confident we''ll do a great job."


    Pleased, Michael patted Greg''s shoulder and handed him a prepared bonus. Accepting the reward with a broad smile, Greg and the other blacksmiths felt motivated to push production even further.


    Michael''s mind, however, was teeming with thoughts. There was still so much to do. While the immediate priority was ramping up production of basic weapons for wartime needs, his long-term goal was to shift focus to improved agricultural tools.


    Lost in thought, Michael left the forge and headed toward Baron Kensington''s residence. He would need the baron''s network of connections to achieve his goals.


    Baron Kensington followed Michael into the makeshift armory. Inside, stacks of spearheads and shields filled the space, a testament to the recent production efforts. While the quality left much to be desired, the sheer volume overwhelmed the baron.


    After a lengthy negotiation, Michael agreed to provide 200 weapons as an introductory commission. In return, Baron Kensington promised to connect him with potential buyers and receive a 1% cut of the sales revenue.


    The production cost for each spearhead, excluding the shaft, was about one silver coin, while swords and shields cost six silvers each. Since Michael couldn''t personally act as a traveling merchant, and involving regular traders would cut into profits, it was more advantageous to leverage Baron Kensington''s influence, even if it meant taking an initial loss.


    Baron Kensington, a prominent figure in the northeastern provinces, wasted no time. As soon as the contract was signed, he mounted his griffin and soared away. Not long after, he returned with three nobles in tow.


    In the current market, iron weapons sold by merchants were of excellent quality but prohibitively expensive and scarce. This made Michael''s lower-quality weapons highly appealing. Even basic iron-tipped spears provided a significant combat advantage to serf soldiers who would otherwise rely on wooden weapons.


    With war against the Pamir Empire on the horizon, the demand for affordable weapons was undeniable. The entire stock of arms was sold out in no time. Watching this unfold, Michael resolved to expedite production further. While he had anticipated success, the speed and scale of the sales exceeded his expectations.


    Meanwhile, Phillip, now the new lord of the old Crassus estate, entered the territory with a dejected expression. For a moment, he wondered if he had taken a wrong turn. The fertile lands promised by the Crassus family were nowhere to be seen.


    Fields that should have been planted long ago were barren, infrastructure was in shambles, wells were clogged with dirt, and houses had crumbling walls. "What on earth is this mess?" he exclaimed in frustration.


    Though all the serfs had been relocated, not a single freeman remained. The scene before him resembled the aftermath of a war. "Where is everyone?" he demanded.


    One of his attendants hesitated before replying cautiously, "Well, my lord, according to inquiries made along the way, the Crassus family is highly regarded. They offered farmland practically for free, so everyone flocked to their new estate."


    Phillip clenched his fists in rage. Selling off the rights to the estate at such a price, leaving not a single freeman behind¡ªit was shameless. "Fine, but why is the village in such a state?"


    "Uh, it''s¡­ I hate to say this, my lord, but your reputation in the northeastern provinces isn''t great. It seems this damage was caused by those harboring grudges against you."


    Phillip was at a loss for words. While he had braced for some resistance, this level of destruction was beyond anything he had imagined. "Surely, no matter how angry they are, they could have left the place livable. This is outrageous!"


    The attendant suppressed his thoughts. Reaping what you sow, perhaps?


    In this era, the fortunes of a noble family rose and fell with its members. The duke''s massacre of northeastern nobles and knights had earned him many enemies, and Phillip was now paying the price. Count Charles had been a key instigator of the estate''s ruin. While he bore no personal grudge, he sought to prevent the duke''s influence from growing in the region. Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After the Crassus family''s departure, a band of northeastern nobles disguised as bandits destroyed everything they could. Though despicable, their actions were effective. Rebuilding the estate from such devastation would cost hundreds of thousands of gold coins¡ªa burden too great for Phillip, who had already been bled dry by the Crassus family.


    Phillip''s anger reached a boiling point when he saw the damaged castle gates. "Is this also the work of those holding grudges?"


    "That¡­ no, my lord," the attendant stammered. "It appears the Crassus family took the gates with them. They were heirlooms, after all."


    Phillip exploded in rage. "They took the gates too? After stealing the people and selling the rights to this wreckage at that price?"


    "Removing gates bearing the family crest is the right of the previous lord," the attendant added meekly.


    Phillip''s furious glare bore down on the unfortunate attendant. "Whose side are you on, exactly?"


    The attendant shrank back, silently cursing his loose tongue.


    Meanwhile, Michael watched with satisfaction as the iron gates of his former castle melted down in the forge. The gates, painstakingly crafted by his ancestors, had been difficult to dismantle and transport, but the effort was worth it.


    He planned to repurpose the iron to produce high-quality weapons for his soldiers. The thought of his troops being armed with gleaming new equipment filled him with pride. Surely, his ancestors would approve of such a decision.

 Chapter 123 - 123 Endless Cycle Of War

    A fierce wind swept across Charles V''s face as he stood atop the watchtower. The heavy cape draped over his shoulders clung tightly to his body, buffeted by the gusts. Below, the capital city of the Kingdom of Lania lay shrouded in a downpour, rain lashing against the streets and rooftops.


    Charles V gazed out at the sprawling city scape, his mind clouded with heavy thoughts. Life as a king was far from easy, and for a ruler like him, whose kingdom bordered the war like Pamir Empire, the burdens were particularly immense. No king of Lania had ever lived past the age of sixty¡ªa testament to the weight of their struggles.


    Though Charles V''s reign had been marked by an unusual absence of major wars, that very peace left him feeling even more uneasy. The current emperor of the Pamir Empire was old, but rumors abounded about his plans to replace the crown prince, known for his hedonistic ways, depending on the outcome of the next war.


    Charles V recalled the secret missive sent by a spy embedded within the Pamir royal court. Of the five great tribes that formed the backbone of the empire, three had already agreed to support a southern campaign, and the remaining two were expected to follow suit soon. War was inevitable; it was only a matter of negotiating its spoils.


    While Lania had always managed to defend its borders, claiming a decisive victory against the Pamir Empire was another matter entirely. The empire''s vast population turned each war into little more than a means of population control. The imperial elite ensured that the five great tribes¡ªkey to the empire''s foundation¡ªsuffered minimal losses by drafting soldiers from lesser tribes to fight in their stead.


    "When will we finally escape this endless cycle of war?" Charles V sighed heavily.


    "Your Majesty, please come inside. The wind is growing stronger," urged Alfredo, the loyal royal chamberlain, his face etched with concern.


    Charles V glanced up at the intensifying rain. "Hah, this spring storm is quite harsh. Have you carried out my orders?"


    Alfredo bowed his head and replied, "Yes, Your Majesty. Letters have been sent to all the key nobles of the realm, particularly to Duke Rochester of the Northwest Palace. I have made your requests clear."


    Charles V nodded and shifted his gaze northward. "Good. The Pamir Empire will likely push through the northern front, so we need as many reinforcements as possible. Do you think they''ll cooperate?"


    "Nobles are always self serving, Your Majesty," Alfredo admitted. "But with danger looming so close, at least the nobles of the Northwest Palace should join the effort. If they don''t, the other nobles won''t let them off easily this time."


    Charles V sighed. "It''s not just nobles¡ªit''s human nature. But if they participate, that''s enough for now. The Northwest Palace nobles have received more support than anyone; they must bear their share of responsibility."


    Charles V''s disdain for the Northwest Palace nobility was shared by nearly every noble in Lania. Decades earlier, during a pivotal war, their delayed support had caused the frontline to collapse. The disaster had led to the near annihilation of the northeastern nobles and knights, as well as heavy losses among reinforcements from other regions. The wounds of that war still lingered, and the Northwest Palace nobles, despite receiving the most funding under the pretext of guarding the borders, were deeply resented.


    "Has Duke Rochester stopped his smuggling operations?" Charles V asked.


    "Yes, Your Majesty. It seems your letter startled him into compliance. He''s ceased his activities and sold his stockpiled weapons to royal merchants," Alfredo reported.


    Charles V allowed himself a small smile. "This war feels different from the others. The rise of the Radiant Holy Kingdom and the declining health of the Pamir Emperor worry me."


    "Well, the emperor is over 150 years old," Alfredo remarked. "No matter how vigorous he was in his youth, his time must be nearing its end."


    "And yet, that old man clings to life, defying expectations. Hopefully, he won''t start a grand war as his final wish. That would be worse than him miraculously recovering," Charles V muttered.


    The Pamir Emperor''s supposed imminent death had been rumored countless times, only for the monarch to reappear in good health, as if by magic. Meanwhile, his sons had begun dying before him, leaving the fourth prince¡ªknown for his debauchery¡ªas the current crown prince.


    While the Pamir Empire''s internal drama was troublesome, it was the actions of the Radiant Holy Kingdom that truly gave Charles V a headache. The Holy Kingdom had recently antagonized the Celeste Empire, meddling in their succession and stoking political chaos.


    "The Radiant Holy Kingdom is still causing trouble, I see," Charles V said. "What''s their reasoning this time?"


    "This time, they opposed the coronation of Celeste''s new emperor," Alfredo replied. "It''s blatant interference."


    The story was a tangled one. After the unexpected death of the Celeste Emperor, who had named no successor, a conflict erupted between the eldest prince, the legitimate heir, and the second prince, born of a concubine. The eldest prince emerged victorious. But the Radiant Holy Kingdom inexplicably sided with the second prince, sheltering him and declaring the new emperor a heretic unworthy of the throne.


    The blatant overreach enraged the new emperor, and few doubted that the Holy Kingdom''s actions were a power play to reassert dominance.


    "They still think they rule the continent," Charles V mused. "But their sun has long since set."


    "Indeed, Your Majesty. Their influence is fading."


    Charles V sighed again. "At least, if they create trouble for the Pamir Empire, it might work in our favor. My greater concern is whether the surrounding kingdoms will provide sufficient aid."


    "No one wants their lands invaded, Your Majesty. They''ll honor their sacred duty." S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Faced with relentless raids and plundering from the Pamir Empire, three neighboring nations, including Lania, had formed an alliance to counter the threat. While the arrangement provided some hope, Charles V remained anxious.

 Chapter 124 - 124 Selling More Weapons

    "Let''s hope we can navigate this crisis safely," he murmured, stepping back into the palace as the cold rain trickled down his neck. His thoughts, tangled and unrelenting, would not find peace until the war had ended.


    Michael was deeply engrossed in selling low grade weapons. Whether to genuinely assist Michael or to line his own pockets, Baron Kensington had introduced a vast network of connections. Among the many visitors drawn by these efforts was Philip, who had come reluctantly, seemingly pushed into it by circumstances.


    Regardless of his motivations, a paying customer was still a customer, and Michael never neglected his patrons. This time, Philip was treated with greater hospitality¡ªtea and cookies were served, a marked improvement from his previous visit, which had included the threat of dragons or sphinxes. Unfortunately, Philip was in no mood to enjoy such comforts.


    The weapons his father had promised to send had not arrived. Instead, he had received only a letter:


    "Dear Son,


    I regret to inform you that the royal court has issued a decree. All high quality weapons manufactured by our family have been requisitioned by the crown. Though they claim it is a purchase, it''s little more than theft. Alas, we have no choice but to comply. Apart from the initial support I provided, I can offer no further aid. I hope you understand. Stay safe, my son."


    After reading the letter, Philip had raged helplessly. He cursed himself for not bringing more weapons when he left, but his baggage had already been overburdened. His family''s illicit dealings with Pamir smugglers also left him no choice but to comply with the requisition, lest their secret be exposed.


    Desperate to secure weapons, Philip scoured every possible source before learning that the Crassus family was selling low grade arms. Though he initially balked at dealing with Michael, whom he considered despicable, his alternatives were either exorbitantly priced or utterly inadequate in quality. Reluctantly, he turned to Michael.


    Having spent tens of thousands of gold on buying serfs from the southern regions, Philip was already stretched thin. He had barely managed to acquire essential artisans through his father''s connections, but the lack of settlers remained a dire problem. The only viable solution was to accept refugees displaced by the war. To attract them, however, he would need to make a significant contribution in the conflict and ensure the security of his lands.


    Thus, with no other options, Philip found himself humbling himself before Michael. "Honorable Sir Michael, I''ve heard you''re selling weapons. Might you sell some to me as well?"


    Michael greeted his valuable customer with a broad smile. "Of course! The weapons are in this warehouse. Feel free to choose what you need. We also offer custom orders. However, as the premier supplier of weapons in the northeastern provinces, we do not cater to small transactions. A minimum purchase of 300 units is required, and we do not offer discounts, no matter the quantity." S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Had Philip come with a letter of introduction from Baron Kensington, the terms might have been more favorable. But since he had arrived of his own accord, there would be no such benefits. The thought of being overcharged yet again made Philip seethe inwardly.


    "...I understand," Philip replied, gritting his teeth so tightly his words were almost inaudible. Michael''s demeanor was more akin to that of a ruthless merchant than a noble. If Philip had any choice, he would have turned around and left immediately.


    Unfortunately, he had no such choice. To arm his serf soldiers, he needed at least 500 weapons. As Michael opened the warehouse doors, Philip was momentarily awestruck. Rows upon rows of neatly arranged weapons greeted him. While not of the finest quality, they were serviceable enough.


    "Go ahead and select the items you need. The weapons you see here are exactly what you''ll receive," Michael said generously, as if offering a great favor.


    Philip examined the materials while discreetly checking the price tags. As rumored, the prices were not excessively high. The cheapest items were spearheads at 5 silver coins each, while the most expensive was a fully iron forged sword priced at 1 gold and 5 silver. Reinforced wooden shields were priced at 1 gold apiece.


    Calculating quickly, Philip estimated the cost of equipping 100 elite soldiers with swords, spears, and shields, and 400 regular soldiers with just shields and spears. The total came to 900 gold. Not an unreasonable amount, he admitted grudgingly.


    The straightforward transaction, devoid of haggling, left Michael equally satisfied. "Then it''s settled. I''ll have the items delivered to you by the end of the month. As for transportation, we''ll keep it simple¡ªjust cover meals for the haulers. Let''s say 10 gold?"


    Philip''s hands trembled as he handed over the payment, his resentment palpable.


    Watching Philip leave, his fury barely contained, Michael couldn''t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. Perhaps it was lingering bitterness from the forced relocation of his estate.


    "[Michael, making a lot of money today too? But when''s the bank going to be built?]" came a voice in his mind.


    "Ah, sorry, sorry. I''ve been so busy lately, I haven''t had time to dig up the grave. I''ll get to it soon."


    "[Why a grave?]"


    "We need someone who can dedicate themselves entirely to managing the bank and investments. Everyone around me is far too busy."


    "[If that''s the case, it can''t be helped. Is my money being saved properly, though?]"


    "Don''t worry. Your money, Marcus''s money, and the others'' are all being saved and managed perfectly."


    "[Others'' money?]"


    "Remember when you bragged in front of the other monsters and knights came swarming in? Thanks to that, monsters started earning annual salaries. Now they ask me to convert their salaries into bonds for investment."


    "[Ah, that! Well, we could say we''re trendsetters.]" The proud tone of the voice made Michael smile.


    Still, the thought nagged at him. He really needed to dig up that grave soon. If he delayed any further, the monsters might revolt.

 Chapter 125 - 125 Plunder Everything!

    Riding on Marcus''s broad back, Michael flew toward the graveyard accompanied by Isper and Leonardo. With two individuals to resurrect today, their assistance was indispensable.


    Marcus''s powerful wingbeats made the air around them hum with weighty vibrations. Leonardo, consumed with excitement, had a manic gleam in his eyes that shimmered even in the darkness.


    "To witness my master''s divine power again! I must immortalize this moment in a mural someday!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with reverence and awe.


    Michael, unfazed, paid him no mind, letting the words pass in one ear and out the other. Instead, his attention turned to Isper, whose stiff expression stood out against the night.


    "Isper, why do you look so tense?" Michael asked.


    Isper hesitated before replying in a quiet voice, "I suppose I''ve spent so much time in the shadows that being out in the open feels strange."


    Michael didn''t respond, but he silently acknowledged Isper''s unwavering loyalty, appreciating the shadows in which his ally had faithfully protected him all this time.


    By now, Marcus had grown accustomed to these nocturnal journeys to the graveyard. As they approached their destination, the great beast descended smoothly, his enormous wings casting shadows over the trees and rocks below.


    "I''ll rest here. Be quick," Marcus muttered, his eyes half-closed as he watched Michael dismount. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Thank you, Marcus," Michael said before disappearing into the darkness with his companions.


    Having done this several times before, Michael quickly located their targets. After guiding Isper and Leonardo to the sites they needed to excavate, he began digging as well. The soft black earth scattered under the thrust of his spade.


    This particular grave revealed its coffin more quickly than others, likely because no one had bothered to conduct a proper burial. As Michael brushed the remaining dirt away, a decayed and corroded coffin lid came into view.


    He paused briefly, looking down at the coffin. The air seemed to grow heavy with the anguish and resentment of the soul buried within. Taking a deep breath, Michael carefully opened the lid to reveal the charred remains of a corpse.


    The sight was harrowing. Once a man who had wielded immense power over the entire financial system of the Rubel Continent, the body before him now lay reduced to ash and ruin, consumed by fire. This was Zark de Murray, the former Grand Commander of the Radiant Holy Kingdom''s Paladin Order and financial administrator to Pope Clement, the 175th pontiff.


    As Grand Commander, Zark had displayed unparalleled brilliance, transforming the paladin order into a force not only of military might but also of economic and political influence. Under his stewardship, the order''s wealth and power grew exponentially, consolidating the Holy Kingdom''s finances.


    Yet his exceptional talents became his downfall. Despite devoting his life to the kingdom and the church, Zark fell victim to envy and betrayal, becoming a scapegoat for his adversaries. His death marked the beginning of the Holy Kingdom''s decline¡ªa bitter irony of history.


    Before being burned at the stake, Zark had declared to the crowd, "The true heresy lies within the Radiance itself!" His final words, drowned out by the roaring flames, became the stuff of legend.


    Now, Michael sought to resurrect this tormented soul. With his deep hatred for the Holy Kingdom and his unparalleled financial acumen, Zark would be the perfect steward for the Crassus Bank.


    Michael placed his hand on the fragile remains, chanting an incantation with practiced precision. A cold energy emanated from his fingertips, enveloping the surrounding air.


    "Resurrectionis electio!"


    The atmosphere around the grave began to vibrate, and the extraordinary scene unfolded before their eyes. Zark''s charred body began to transform. Blood flowed through his veins again, his desiccated flesh regrew, and life returned to his lifeless form.


    The bitterness and pain etched into Zark''s face gradually faded, replaced by vitality. With a gasp, his eyes flew open, blazing with new life. For a moment, Zark appeared disoriented, but understanding soon dawned upon him.


    Like the other resurrected souls, he knelt before Michael. "You have pulled me from the endless abyss, my true master. Thank you for granting me this chance for vengeance."


    His voice carried a mixture of emotions¡ªdevotion to Michael, seething anger toward the Holy Kingdom and its pope, and above all, profound relief at escaping death''s clutches.


    Michael glanced toward Leonardo and Isper, who were calling out from another part of the graveyard. It seemed their excavation was taking longer, even with both of them working together. With a nod to the newly resurrected Zark, who was still unsteady on his feet, Michael walked toward his companions.


    He found them digging through a pit filled with a chaotic jumble of skeletal remains. The grave had been neglected for years, causing the bones to become entangled. Thankfully, Leonardo and Isper''s anatomical expertise allowed them to swiftly sort through the remains.


    Once reassembled, they identified nine distinct skeletons¡ªjust as legend described. Michael carefully examined the remains, noting the ravages of time. He inspected each skeleton for distinguishing features, his methodical approach soon rewarded. Among the bones, he found a skull bearing an eyepatch.


    A faint smile crossed Michael''s face as he rested his hand on the skeleton with the eyepatch. This was none other than Drake "Billy" Kidd, the legendary pirate captain.


    "Resurrectionis electio!"


    In an instant, the air around them fell silent. Drake Billy Kidd, once the scourge of the seas, began to stir.


    Michael envisioned using Drake and his crew to recreate the legendary privateering of old aboard an ancient ship. The idea had come to him when Miaomiao explained the family''s treasure ship, which could conceal itself in mist and evade detection. Combining this unique characteristic with Drake''s unparalleled skills promised the creation of the ultimate privateer vessel.


    Drake approached Michael and knelt respectfully. "My lord, before I pledge my loyalty, I have a question."


    Michael nodded, signaling him to proceed. "Ask anything."


    A mix of emotions flickered in Drake''s eyes as he prepared to unburden himself of a weight he had carried for centuries. "My beloved, Ariel de Celeste... Has she passed?"

 Chapter 126 - 126 The Crassus Bank

    A heavy silence settled between them. Michael had anticipated this question, knowing Drake''s life had been entwined with the queen''s in ways both painful and tumultuous.


    "She passed long ago," Michael replied quietly. "She never married and left the throne to her nephew."


    Drake''s expression shifted subtly¡ªwas it hatred or regret? He bowed his head slightly and spoke with a hint of relief. "Then I won''t need to end her life with my own hands. Thank you."


    His voice carried a blend of sorrow and solace, reflecting the complex and unresolved bond he had shared with her. However, Michael quickly brought the conversation back to the present.


    "What''s important now isn''t your past but your abilities," Michael said, his tone firm. "If I revive your crew, will you serve me without hesitation?"


    Drake''s head shot up, a spark of life reigniting in his eyes. "If you can do that, I will give you everything, my lord."


    Michael, satisfied with Drake''s unwavering determination, nodded. "Very well," he said, turning to the skeletal remains of Drake''s loyal crew. To operate a privateer ship effectively, he needed capable and discreet sailors, and Drake''s men fit the bill.


    One by one, Michael revived them. Drake reunited with his crew in a tearful display, their shared bonds transcending even death. Watching the scene, Michael allowed them a moment before stepping in.


    "Save your reunion for later," he said. "It''s time to show you the ship you''ll be commanding."


    Michael led Drake and his crew to a hidden coastal cave deep within the ancient graveyard. This secluded location would serve as their base for future privateering operations. Building a proper harbor or engaging in large-scale trade was out of the question for now. Instead, Michael saw greater value in small-scale piracy¡ªamassing wealth and targeting ships belonging to the Radiant Holy Kingdom.


    As they reached the cave, Drake and his men fell silent, awestruck by the sight of the ancient treasure ship. Though seasoned sailors who had seen countless vessels, they immediately recognized that this was no ordinary ship. It emanated an aura of ancient power and secrecy.


    Overwhelmed by their good fortune, Drake and his men marveled at the prospect of reclaiming dominance over the seas. As demons, most of their abilities were linked to ship navigation, but Drake''s unique talent stood out: astral projection. S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael glanced at Drake with mild amusement. "I take it this ability reflects how much you wanted to stay by the queen''s side during your life," he remarked with a faint smirk before clearing his throat.


    "It''s a useful power," Michael continued. "It''ll make communication with me much easier."


    "Yes, my lord," Drake replied. "I will use it to report on the situation as we conduct our missions."


    Michael left them with one clear directive: "Plunder every ship belonging to the Radiant Holy Kingdom!"


    Returning to the castle, Michael and Zark began an extensive discussion. They needed to finalize the purpose of the soon-to-be-established bank and decide how the resources, including the wealth recovered from Drake''s hidden treasure, would be reinvested.


    "The bank must not be limited to simple financial management," Zark began, his tone resolute. "Our ambitions must be larger and more strategic."


    Michael nodded. "I agree. How do you propose we operate?"


    Zark outlined his plan. "The initial capital will come from the demon contracts and the hidden treasures we''ve accumulated. We should focus on commercial investments, particularly in high-value goods like war supplies and precious metals, given the current climate."


    "And we''ll reinvest the profits?" Michael asked.


    "Exactly. The next step is real estate," Zark continued. "Real estate is both a stable asset and a critical means of strengthening ties with the elite. During wartime, many nobles will offer land and estates as collateral. We must seize these opportunities."


    Michael nodded, absorbing Zark''s insights. "Do you have any other ideas?"


    "We could also provide discreet loans to the Radiant Holy Kingdom, the Celeste Empire, and neighboring duchies in exchange for bonds," Zark suggested.


    "Wouldn''t that draw too much attention to the bank?" Michael asked, skeptical.


    Zark smiled knowingly. "That''s where discretion comes in. I specialize in covert operations. We''ll establish multiple secret branches that appear unrelated on the surface. The bank''s key functions must be entrusted to reliable managers. Just as Drake has his crew, I have my own network. Many of them were executed alongside me, but if you revive them, they''ll be invaluable assets."


    Michael raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You have more capable people like yourself? The more talent we have, the better."


    Trusting Zark implicitly as one of his loyal demons, Michael agreed. "I''ll leave this entirely in your hands. I expect great results."


    With that, the foundation of the Crassus Bank was laid. Michael reflected on the immense potential of his team and silently honored the foreign forces who had sacrificed to empower him.


    Despite Philip''s repeated efforts, the Barony of Fitzroy remained in ruins. Once fertile farmland now lay overrun with useless weeds. Reports continued to confirm that it would take at least one or two years just to restore the desolated land to a functional state.


    "This is outrageous! How could this happen?" Philip exclaimed, rising abruptly from his chair. His eyes burned with fury as he gazed out the window at his devastated estate, feeling the weight of unrelenting despair. Even if time healed the land, the humiliation of this situation would linger.


    Though he was a bastard son, Philip was still the offspring of the most powerful noble in the northwestern provinces. He had confidence in his abilities and had never considered his birth a hindrance. Yet this disgrace threatened to amplify the whispers surrounding his lineage.


    Philip''s anger flared anew. Count Charles and Michael¡ªthose scheming individuals¡ªhad cornered him with their treachery. The count''s motive was clear: to prevent the northwestern nobles from exploiting the empty lands of the northeast, using Philip''s case as a stark warning.


    Clenching his fists, Philip vowed he would not tolerate this humiliation. No matter how long it took, he would restore his estate. And when that time came, those who had mocked him would pay the price for his disgrace.

 Chapter 127 - 127 Preparing For War

    "What''s the status of the investigation?" he asked curtly. His steward replied with caution.


    "As expected, my lord, there is no evidence linking the Crassus family to the destruction of the estate. It appears to be the work of Count Charles''s faction."


    Philip scowled, frustration tightening his features. "Even so, we can''t move against Count Charles. The man is always surrounded by guards¡­"


    He trailed off, deep in thought. "I''ve heard that Sir Michael often travels alone. Is that true?"


    The steward nodded. "It''s true that he ventures out alone at times, but don''t take that too literally. He''s always accompanied by the sphinx, and he frequently rides the dragon Marcus."


    Philip narrowed his eyes, jealousy threading through his tone. Though aware that others were responsible for the ruin of his estate, he fixated on Michael, channeling his resentment toward him. Michael''s reputation and abilities were a constant source of irritation for Philip.


    "Is the sphinx really so formidable? Surely Michael himself is nothing special?" he pressed, a competitive edge in his voice.


    Sensing Philip''s hubris, the steward bowed slightly and spoke carefully. "My lord, it would be unwise to underestimate Sir Michael''s prowess. Though he received no formal training, his innate talent allowed him to awaken his aura. He is also renowned as a master archer. To ambush him successfully, you''d need at least five knights and two hundred soldiers. Even then, the risk of retaliation would be high. It might be better to wait for another opportunity."


    Despite the steward''s words of caution, Philip''s expression darkened further. His emotions churned¡ªa volatile mix of rage and frustration. "Are you saying I''m not capable of handling him?" he growled.


    The steward softened his tone, hoping to soothe his lord''s bruised ego. "My lord, even a tiger uses its full strength to hunt a rabbit. This isn''t about your lack of ability, but rather¡­"


    "Enough!" Philip interrupted angrily. "You''re telling me I can''t compete with him in wealth, can''t ambush him, and should just live quietly in disgrace? Is that it?"


    The steward bowed his head, choosing his words carefully. Why does he think he''s so wronged? he mused silently. For a duke''s illegitimate son, being raised to the rank of baron with significant support isn''t bad at all. Does he expect the world to praise him like they do Sir Michael?


    Philip''s simmering insecurities made him unwilling to listen. Yet deep down, he knew he lacked the power to act. For now, he resolved to bide his time, endure the humiliation, and strike later¡ªperhaps during the war, when circumstances might work in his favor.


    As Philip stewed in his thoughts, the steward hesitantly spoke again. "My lord, Sir Michael''s personal abilities may be impressive, but his family''s strength is not as remarkable. Look at the land they''ve chosen to exploit¡ªa mere iron mine beneath a lake. Their weapons are of such poor quality that while they may sell for now, it won''t last in the long run."


    The steward''s analysis provided Philip with some comfort. Seeing his lord take an interest in his words, the steward felt relieved. "Once their short-term mining ventures dry up, they''ll be forced to rely on farming. In the grand scheme of things, what significance does that hold? Meanwhile, your lordship will achieve great military feats in the upcoming war and rise far above Sir Michael. His power likely depends on the dragon and sphinx anyway."


    Though the steward''s words were largely speculative, Philip found solace in the flattery. Ignorant of the wealth Michael had accumulated through the iron mine and other ventures, Philip took satisfaction in the reassurance, his mood improving at last.


    While Philip and his steward debated Michael''s future, Michael himself was preoccupied with his next endeavor. With the rush of low-grade weapons behind him, he shifted his focus to training heavy cavalry.


    "Master Michael! These armors you''ve provided are magnificent. With these, we can achieve great victories in the war!" exclaimed Sir Ronald as he approached Michael with enthusiasm.


    The armors Michael had delivered were light enough for ordinary soldiers to wear while offering excellent protection. Traditionally, heavy cavalry required seasoned warriors nurtured by noble families over many years, but these armors allowed even regular soldiers to perform as heavy cavalry.


    The sight of 120 soldiers clad in crimson armor wielding lances was a spectacle to behold. Their precise, unified movements were awe-inspiring. Michael commended Sir Ronald, along with Alex and Anthony, for their efforts.


    "Well done. Keep up the good work," Michael said with approval.


    Wearing the gleaming red armor Michael had retrieved from the underground temple, the soldiers responded with fervent shouts of loyalty. By now, they were ready to follow Michael into even the fiercest inferno. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    In the office of the Papacy within the Radiant Holy Kingdom, news reached Pope Allegro III that ignited uncontrollable fury. His face reddened as he leapt to his feet.


    "What? That damned emperor expelled our archbishop?" he bellowed.


    Allegro III was momentarily at a loss for words. It was bad enough that the second prince he had supported failed to ascend to the throne of the Celeste Empire. Now, the archbishop, accused of interfering in the succession, had been unceremoniously dismissed. Following the failure of his plans in the Alpha Kingdom, this latest setback felt like the world mocking him.


    "Draft a statement immediately," Allegro III ordered firmly. "We cannot acknowledge this insult under any circumstances."


    Though resolute in his outward response, the pope inwardly seethed with frustration. The Papacy could present a bold front to the outside world, but internally, someone would have to take the fall.


    His gaze settled on Vito, the captain of the First Paladin Order, who had already failed him once before.


    "Your Holiness," Vito said, stepping forward with dignity, "this failure stems from my inability to properly control public opinion. I take full responsibility."


    Though he had prepared his allies behind the scenes, Vito knew it was necessary to appear accountable in public. Before the pope could respond, Cardinal Soleno intervened.

 Chapter 128 - 128 Michaels Army

    "Your Holiness," Soleno began, "while it''s true that Captain Vito cannot be absolved of all responsibility, it would be unjust to lay the entire blame on him. The Celeste Empire is far from our reach, with many kingdoms between us. Information may have been miscommunicated or delayed. It would not be wise to punish him excessively under these circumstances."


    Allegro III''s frustration erupted in a loud, angry exclamation. "How did the sacred Radiance come to this? Once we ruled the entire Rubel Continent, and now we cower before the Celeste Empire!"


    His voice was laden with a mix of disappointment and anger. The Papacy, which had once dominated the continent, had devolved into a shadow of its former power, forced to watch its actions and defer to lesser kingdoms. This was the reality Allegro III had inherited¡ªa crumbling institution riddled with internal decay.


    The officials gathered in the pope''s office were more politicians than clergy, and Vito''s offer to take responsibility wasn''t born of guilt. Someone had to take the blame, and as the lowest ranking individual present, Vito had stepped forward to protect his superiors.


    However, making Vito a scapegoat outright would only provoke infighting among factions vying for his position¡ªa conflict that could destabilize the Paladin Order and, by extension, weaken the pope''s authority.


    Cardinal Jacobo, who had already received a nod from the pope, spoke up. "Your Holiness, while Cardinal Soleno raises valid points, there must still be accountability. Even if Captain Vito bears no direct fault, some of his subordinates may have played a role in this debacle. Silently removing those individuals would restore the Papacy''s authority while preserving Captain Vito''s honor."


    Jacobo''s suggestion was calculated, offering a compromise. It allowed for a clear assignment of blame without fully sacrificing Vito, maintaining internal stability while eliminating dissent within the Paladin Order.


    After a brief contemplation, Allegro III nodded in agreement. "Do it. Captain Vito must cleanse his order of any corruption and reestablish firm leadership. Punish those responsible for this failure but ensure the Paladin Order as a whole remains intact."


    Kneeling before the pope, Vito responded with solemn determination. "Thank you, Your Holiness, for your guidance. I will root out the rot within my order without delay."


    As Vito left, Allegro III''s mind churned with frustration. Why had these disasters plagued his tenure? The Papacy had begun to rot generations ago, with high ranking positions often inherited by the illegitimate offspring of elites. Reforming such a deeply ingrained system now seemed nearly impossible.


    Allegro III himself had benefited from the privileges of his birth into a clerical family, using those advantages to ascend to the papacy. It would be hypocritical to demand others forgo the same path. Gazing out the window, he reflected on the precarious balance of factions within the Papacy. While they created constant friction, they also maintained equilibrium, preventing any single group from gaining unchecked power. S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Jacobo," he said at last, "how is the situation progressing?"


    Jacobo, his head bowed, replied confidently. "Do not worry, Your Holiness. Four of the five great tribes have agreed to support us, and the last is on the verge of joining."


    Satisfied, Allegro III nodded. "Good. The Kingdom of Lania has pushed us too far. We won''t let them prosper unchallenged¡ªespecially not their northeastern nobles. Let them fight if they''re so eager. Let''s see how long their bravado lasts."


    Recent provocations from Lania and its northeastern nobles had cost the Papacy dearly, and Allegro III was determined to send a powerful warning. The time had come to stoke the flames of war, using the Pamir Empire to turn the Rubel Continent into a battlefield.


    Jacobo showed no surprise at the pope''s decision. He had seen other popes use similar tactics. "As Your Holiness commands. Soon, the continent will once again look to the Radiant Holy Kingdom for salvation."


    A month had passed since Princess Adelaide had subtly warned Michael of the impending war. His primary focus now was the production of military supplies. Based on his observations during his visit to the capital and numerous other signs, this war was shaping up to be massive.


    Wars of this scale were more than capable of weakening great nobles and utterly destroying smaller ones. For every success in war, there were countless failures. Michael, aware of his own limitations, refused to overestimate his abilities. History had shown him that overconfidence was the root of all defeats. The ultimate victor in any war, he knew, was the one who survived.


    To survive, preparation was essential. What was the most critical factor in leading an army and achieving military success? Troops? Strength? No¡ªit was a strong logistical foundation. No strategy or strength could endure without financial and material support.


    Michael''s current priorities included equipping his soldiers, ensuring an adequate food supply, and securing supply lines in case the war dragged on. Staring out over his still developing estate, Michael sighed deeply. A little more time would have been ideal, but war''s footsteps drew nearer every day.


    From a continental perspective, his territory was still too weak; even within the Kingdom of Lania, it lagged behind. At best, his name carried some weight in the northeastern provinces. Though he had added one more knight to his ranks, it wasn''t enough to make a significant impact in the coming conflict. His force of 120 heavy cavalry and 12 gargoyle riders was a modest comfort.


    Alongside Marcus and his grandfather, Alfred, Michael''s power ranked just below that of Count Charles. Yet these resources had to remain his trump card; an overly aggressive move could invite disaster.


    Determined to maximize his preparations for the war, Michael mobilized every resource his house could muster.


    "Alex, tell the miners to extract as much iron ore as possible," Michael instructed. "Antony, inform Old Greg to ramp up low quality weapon production. If necessary, offer night pay and hire more workers to run operations around the clock. And we need more high quality weapons for our own troops."

 Chapter 129 - 129 Official Decree... Full-Scale Mobilization

    For Michael, selling substandard weapons was both a business opportunity and a form of civic duty, helping to defend the kingdom. If rowing while the tide is high was ever apt, it was now. In a way, producing these weapons was a noble effort, contributing to national defense and aiding neighboring territories.


    A blast of magical energy erupted through the mist, striking the port side of the ship Pavilion with a bright flash. The vessel, tasked with transporting grain from the Radiant Holy Kingdom to the Pamir Empire, reeled as crew members¡ªdisguised paladins¡ªscreamed and fell to the deck.


    While trained as sailors, their lack of experience made it impossible to stabilize the ship under such conditions. Sir Jared, captain of the Pavilion and one of the Radiant Holy Kingdom''s Paladin Order leaders, wiped the sweat from his brow, grinding his teeth in frustration.


    The fog thickened as the ship swayed precariously once more. Jared''s voice thundered across the deck. "Where is the enemy firing from?" sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    His cry echoed across the sea, but only another volley of magical energy answered. The source of the attack was impossible to discern, as though they were being assaulted by a ghost ship. Hidden in the mist, the unseen enemy seemed to mock them with every strike.


    The attack had begun suddenly. Awakened by the deafening sound of cannon fire, Jared had rushed to the deck only to find his ship enveloped in fog. Blue flashes of light pierced the darkness, sending his already disoriented crew into a panic.


    Although the Pavilion was a magically armed transport vessel, its weaponry was useless in the face of an unseen enemy. Jared barked orders, urging his men to retaliate, but it was a futile effort. They had no idea whether their counterattacks were even landing.


    Some of his subordinates argued that they should fight to the end, insisting they couldn''t betray the Radiant Holy Kingdom. But Jared silenced them. As the son of a high-ranking archbishop, he had too much to lose. He had no intention of dying in the middle of the sea at the hands of an unknown foe.


    When the crew raised a white flag of surrender, the relentless assault finally ceased. Drake, standing triumphantly aboard his pirate ship, stepped onto the deck of the Pavilion to celebrate their first raid.


    He spotted the captain immediately¡ªa man in his underclothes, unarmed and trembling. Meanwhile, the other crew members were fully dressed and armed. A sneer crossed Drake''s face. The Holy Kingdom truly has fallen into ruin.


    "W-we surrender! Spare our lives, I beg of you!" Jared stammered, his eyes wide with desperation.


    Shaking his head, Drake glared at the defeated captain. "Silence, coward. The moment you raised the white flag, you lost all claim to respect. Luka! Throw this disgrace overboard."


    Jared protested frantically. "Wait! No captain deserves to be treated this way! This is all my crew''s incompetence¡ª"


    Luka, grinning wickedly, approached Jared. "You crawled out in your underwear, and you dare call yourself a captain? We''re pirates, not the navy! Now, go give the sea a kiss!"


    Jared struggled, but Luka''s grip was unyielding. As Jared screamed, he was hurled into the ocean, to the cheers of Drake''s crew.


    Reborn from lives filled with resentment, they now served Michael as devoted followers, their mission focused on plundering the Holy Kingdom''s ships.


    Drake and his crew explored the ship, inspecting their spoils. The cargo hold and all storage areas were packed with grain¡ªnot gold or jewels, which was disappointing, but the quantity was substantial enough to count as a successful first raid.


    In the captain''s quarters, Drake discovered secret correspondence between the Radiant Holy Kingdom and the Pamir Empire. Smirking, he scanned the letters, which were filled with enthusiastic support for an invasion of the Kingdom of Lania. The documents also revealed detailed shipping schedules and routes for additional supply ships.


    "Thanks to our master, we''re exacting proper revenge on the Holy Kingdom," Drake muttered with satisfaction.


    As he strode out of the captain''s quarters, his cape billowing behind him, he erupted into laughter. "Kill them all! Let these so-called holy servants meet their end!"


    A month passed in the blink of an eye. Word spread quickly that the massive army of the Pamir Empire was advancing toward the northeastern provinces. Duke Woodrock and Count Charles urgently summoned a high-level meeting of the nobility.


    Wyverns soared from Count Charles''s estate, carrying messages far and wide. Nobles from across the region, including Dominic and Michael from the Crassus Viscounty, soon arrived. Even lords who had clashed over territorial disputes set aside their grievances to confront their shared enemy¡ªthe Pamir Empire''s invading forces.


    The gathering became a flurry of alliances, with nobles scrambling to secure mutual support. The Crassus family, once overlooked, now enjoyed newfound prestige thanks to Michael''s rising prominence. Count Charles''s warm smile as he greeted Michael reflected this change in status.


    Surveying the assembly, Michael discreetly identified the key figures with his father''s guidance. Of the fifteen families represented, seven belonged to Count Charles''s faction¡ªan impressive display of the count''s influence as the leading force in the northeastern provinces.


    "This document is an official decree from the royal court," announced Count Charles solemnly, holding up a scroll. "You may read it, but it must not leave this room."


    Behind him stood a mage holding an enchanted seal. "Before we proceed, I must ask you all to sign this confidentiality contract. It is essential for maintaining secrecy ahead of the war."


    The kingdom''s security measures were stringent, relying on magical contracts rather than mere verbal oaths. Once signed, the contract imposed a faint sense of binding. As long as the agreement was honored, it would remain unobtrusive.


    "You''ve all seen the signs¡ªthis war will be no ordinary conflict," Count Charles began. His voice carried across the room, commanding attention. The gathered nobles exchanged uneasy glances.


    "The Pamir Emperor has ordered a full-scale mobilization. Even with two allied nations sharing the burden, our kingdom will face the brunt of the assault. As the northeastern provinces are the kingdom''s frontline, we will be the first to engage the enemy. I trust that each of you has prepared based on your intelligence."

 Chapter 130 - 130 Every Citizen Is A Soldier

    A murmur spread through the assembly before Count Charles raised a hand to silence it.


    "I have summoned you here because King Charles V has issued a critical directive. From this moment, our kingdom will operate under the principle that every citizen is a soldier."


    He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. Determination and apprehension flickered across the faces of the gathered lords.


    "Our northeastern provinces are tasked with mobilizing between 100,000 and 150,000 soldiers. While this entire force won''t be deployed at once, the first expeditionary army alone must number at least 70,000. In our last great war, the sacrifices made by nobles, commoners, and serfs alike were immeasurable."


    The grim memory of those losses caused many to clench their fists.


    "To avoid a similar fate, we must prepare thoroughly. This directive is not optional. Each domain must contribute its assigned number of soldiers, by whatever means necessary."


    The room buzzed with hushed conversations until Count Charles''s voice cut through again, firm and unyielding.


    "This is a war for the kingdom''s survival¡ªthere will be no negotiations. By the decree of His Majesty King Charles V, I have been appointed Governor-General of the northeastern provinces and granted full military authority. I expect your complete cooperation."


    The announcement sent ripples of surprise through the assembly. Michael, too, was taken aback. While he had anticipated a large-scale conflict, the mobilization of the entire population was unprecedented. Was the Pamir Emperor truly so reckless in his twilight years? Regardless, the royal court''s resolve was clear, signaling the severity of the situation.


    Meeting his father''s gaze, Michael nodded. Preparing for the worst, he resolved to train every able-bodied serf and citizen in his domain.


    "Governor-General, while it is only right to follow the royal court''s directive, the issue of cost must be addressed," spoke Viscount Wyatt with a calculated air of concern. Located at the southernmost tip of the northeastern provinces, his domain was relatively insulated from immediate threats, making him reluctant to bear the financial burden.


    Sensing an opportunity, Michael interjected. If he intended to train his own serfs and citizens, securing food supplies was paramount¡ªand he happened to have an abundance of it.


    "Governor-General, Viscount Wyatt raises a valid point," Michael said. "Many domains are still recovering from last winter''s devastation caused by fanatics. If the entire population is to be trained, food production will give way to consumption, driving up grain prices and leaving many unable to cope with the rising costs."


    Count Charles raised an eyebrow. "And what do you propose?"


    "I suggest that the central command purchase surplus grain from the estates and redistribute it to impoverished nobles and their domains," Michael explained. "Our family, for instance, has a considerable stockpile of grain left over from our recent relocation. We procured it through contacts in the southern regions but didn''t end up needing as much as anticipated. I believe other families may also have reserves that could be put to use."


    It was the perfect opportunity to offload the massive quantities of grain accumulated through Drake''s successful raids.


    Count Charles considered Michael''s proposal, his expression thoughtful. It was clear that while the war would demand sacrifices from everyone, those who played their cards right¡ªlike Michael¡ªstood to gain.


    Count Charles fell into deep thought after hearing Michael''s proposal. As wrinkles formed on his forehead, the tension in the conference room grew. With the large-scale war looming, it was essential for the nobles within the castle to stockpile grain.


    Baron Kensington, catching Michael''s gaze, added his voice to the discussion.


    "Your Excellency, the Governor. Sir Michael''s proposal is excellent. Self-sufficiency in food during a war is absolutely necessary. If the nobles who have extra grain release it and the leadership purchases it to curb price hikes, it will greatly benefit us."


    Others nodded in agreement, relief mixing into their expressions. Selling surplus grain now was preferable to having it seized later under the guise of requisition at a low price.


    "What do you think, Court Count Woodlock? Would it be acceptable to use military funds to purchase surplus grain and sell it to minor nobles?"


    Since the suggestion aligned with the king''s orders, Count Woodlock had no reason to oppose it. The nobles gathered here were the affluent ones from the northeastern planet. As such, they could amass a substantial amount of grain. Affordable food always helped stabilize public sentiment.


    "Well, if we can buy it cheaply and stockpile provisions for the war, it would certainly be a great help. I''ll request the royal family for a budget allocation. How much grain do you all have in reserve?"


    "Our Charles family can offer about 1,000 seok of wheat. Let''s set the price at 90% of the market rate," Count Charles responded.


    The conditions seemed reasonable. Dominic then spoke up.


    "Our Crassus barony has a fair amount of stockpiled grain. We can provide 1,500 seok of wheat and 1,000 seok of oats at the same rate as Count Charles."


    Once they set the tone, others eagerly offered their surplus grain. From Count Charles'' and Court Count Woodlock''s perspectives, it was an excellent way to stockpile provisions, while the nobles could sell their excess grain and procure military supplies.


    When the meeting concluded, Dominic left the conference room with his son, overwhelmed with joy. Previously, as a minor noble, he had been in the position of buying food. Now, thanks to his son, he could sell his surplus grain.


    Dominic gazed at Michael with deep affection.


    "I never thought our family''s fortunes would turn around like this. It''s all thanks to you."


    "Not at all, Father. It''s the result of everyone''s efforts," Michael replied.


    Dominic laughed heartily and patted Michael''s shoulder.


    "Don''t be so modest. I''ve been the lord for almost 50 years, but no one has ever benefited the territory as much as you have. Thank you."


    While Michael basked in his father''s praise, Philip was seething with frustration. Reading the letter from his father had left him utterly incredulous.


    "Make contributions in the northeastern planet because circumstances don''t allow it here? Then he should send reinforcements!" Sear?h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 131 - 131 Forging Alliances

    Philip threw the letter aside, venting his dissatisfaction. His father''s words were vastly different from what he had been told when he was first sent here. It felt like his father was exiling him to this remote place to die for his older brother''s benefit.


    Initially, Philip had been scheduled to join the war from the northwestern palace. He had expected to earn merits there alongside his father''s subordinates, just as before. But now, the letter merely instructed him to remain in the northeastern planet and make contributions from there.


    "Is this an attempt to isolate me? To cut me off completely from the family?"


    In truth, the duke had ordered Philip to stay in the northeastern planet for his own safety¡ªa strategic decision to avoid putting all eggs in one basket. Although Philip was an illegitimate child, he was still his father''s blood. However, to Philip, who had been experiencing a series of misfortunes lately, the letter seemed like nothing more than a plot to distance him further.


    "What now? I was supposed to join forces with Father''s subordinates at the northwestern palace. That way, I wouldn''t need to ally with the nobles here, and I could earn merits. But now I''m expected to survive here alone. Does this even make sense?"


    Philip''s voice carried despair. The butler, who had raised him since childhood, stepped forward.


    "My lord, please don''t worry too much. Surely there are nobles here willing to cooperate..."


    Philip shook his head at the butler''s na?ve optimism.


    "Can''t you see the state of the territory? This place is full of people who would rather devour me than cooperate. If they don''t stab me in the back, I''d consider myself lucky."


    Philip sank into deep contemplation. The 500 soldiers his father had assigned him might make him one of the stronger barons in the northeastern planet. However, that was only relevant in territorial disputes or rebellion suppression¡ªnot in a full-scale war.


    For survival, nobles were encouraged to ally and form coalitions, typically organizing armies based on proximity or familial ties.


    On the northern border, the Lania Kingdom was already at a numerical disadvantage. Unity was crucial for survival. Yet, there were no nobles in the northeastern planet willing to ally with Philip.


    Should he defy his father''s orders and recklessly return home? Philip gritted his teeth. That was out of the question. Without an official command bearing his father''s seal, he could not leave the northeastern planet on his own accord.


    Protecting the territory was a noble''s duty. Even if the only freemen left were the families of the soldiers he had brought, it remained his responsibility. Abandoning his territory would mean losing everything as a noble.


    But allying with small forces? What would that achieve? Minor forces couldn''t change the tides of war or earn significant merits.


    The more Philip thought about it, the more resentment he felt toward his father for sending him to such a place.


    "Hmm... If I may give you a hint, yes. It seems the war won''t be limited to the northern region but will engulf the entire kingdom. Dispatches will soon be sent to every castle," Dominic said.


    The confirmation of what he had dreaded turned Lord Broad''s face pale. For a mere knight who had not even ascended to the rank of baron, this news was like a bolt from the blue. After hesitating briefly, Broad finally got to the point.


    "Forgive my audacity, but I have a request. From what I can see, Lord Dominic and Sir Michael are more than capable of leading an entire legion. The North has always been the first region to be engulfed in war. My family, though modest, is also making preparations." Broad carefully observed Dominic and Michael''s reactions before continuing.


    "When war breaks out, armies are often formed based on regions, but they are also sometimes freely organized. Compatibility among forces is crucial for effective combat. Though my family is small, I can muster about 100 soldiers. If possible, I would like our forces to be integrated into Lord Dominic''s legion during the war..."


    Dominic, who had already discussed such scenarios with Michael, maintained a neutral expression, neither accepting nor rejecting the proposal. Broad, growing anxious at Dominic''s ambiguous response, decided to speak more directly.


    "If you accept, I will lead my entire household to the Crassus Barony and stand with you in life and death," Broad offered.


    Dominic smiled at the reply he had been waiting for. Simply joining a legion would not be enough to make it worthwhile. It was crucial to determine if Broad could become a reliable ally. Michael had no intention of laboring on behalf of others without a clear gain.


    Lord Broad trusted his instincts. Though the Crassus family might not be the most powerful in the northeastern planet, they had been blessed with good fortune so far. Momentum was a formidable force, especially on the battlefield. Reflecting on recent events, Michael had experienced nothing but success.


    Among the populace, there were even whispers that Michael, who commanded a sphinx and a dragon¡ªboth high-class magical beasts¡ªwas the reincarnation of a great being. No one could stand against a man blessed with public favor and good fortune.


    Broad believed that this moment was the time to stake everything his family had. Only by taking a firm stance now could his family remain under Michael''s protection. Other minor nobles with similar thoughts began to approach Michael as well, each seeking a powerful protector to shield them from the looming storm of war.


    Michael inwardly smiled. The more people under his command, the better. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Meanwhile, preparations for war were not limited to the Lania Kingdom. The neighboring Pasha Kingdom and Elonia Kingdom were also accelerating their preparations. These two kingdoms, allied with Lania to resist the Pamir Empire''s aggression, were in slightly better circumstances than Lania.


    Unlike Lania, which often bore the brunt of full-scale wars, these two nations had only faced small-scale invasions in the past. When Lania announced its plans for a full-scale war, both kingdoms were greatly alarmed.

 Chapter 132 - 132 The Pamir Empires Launch Their Attack

    Of the two, the smaller Elonia Kingdom, which was closer to the Pamir Empire, was particularly shocked.


    "Has the Pamir Empire truly made its decision? Has the emperor finally gone mad?"


    Inside the royal palace of Elonia, King Henry III asked his ministers in a somber voice.


    "Since the news comes from the Lania Kingdom, it is likely accurate, Your Majesty. Having fought the Pamir Empire for decades, they know the empire better than anyone else. Even if this doesn''t escalate into a full-scale war, it is certain that the scale of conflict will be greater than before. It would be wise to prepare for the worst," Chancellor Mark replied cautiously.


    As the weakest of the three allied kingdoms, Elonia was particularly vulnerable. If the Pamir Empire chose to target them first, the consequences would be dire. General Louis agreed with the chancellor.


    "In past wars, the Pamir Empire often provoked all three kingdoms simultaneously. Those brutes, if nothing else, excel at breeding soldiers. Even when fighting three fronts at once, they show no hesitation."


    With his two most trusted advisors in agreement, King Henry III made his decision.


    "Then prepare for war with all our might! Fortify the strongholds and recruit soldiers."


    Although he did not consider himself an exceptional ruler, Henry III prided himself on being realistic. The Elonia Kingdom, with its small population and limited experience in warfare, was ill-equipped to withstand even a minor invasion.


    The Pamir Empire''s army was infamous for its cruelty, leaving no life behind in the lands they conquered. To make matters worse, this war had arrived on the heels of a devastating drought. Henry III could not help but wonder if the kingdom was nearing its doom.


    In the royal palace of the Lania Kingdom, King Charles V felt an unusual sense of calm as the war approached. The once divided court was now united in its focus on preparing for battle.


    "Your Majesty, the northeastern planet has requested a budget for grain stockpiling," an official reported.


    "Work with the military and treasury departments to allocate an appropriate budget. Be accommodating where possible, but reject any excessive demands," Charles V instructed.


    "Yes, Your Majesty. It shall be done."


    "Chancellor Lant, oversee the budget execution alongside the military, treasury, and the Senate. If there are any who dare exploit the kingdom even in this dire situation, they must not be tolerated!" the king declared with a stern expression.


    "And report which regions are the least active in preparing for war. In times of war, those who lack discipline do not deserve to survive."


    At that moment, the Pamir Empire''s forces launched their attack on the fortress of Elnimo in the northwestern planet.


    A week had passed since news of the Pamir Empire''s invasion first broke. With the ominous signs of war becoming an ever-more tangible reality, Michael stood atop the watchtower of the castle wall, his gaze calm yet penetrating. Other noble knights, all wearing solemn expressions, began ascending to the tower one by one.


    Below the tower, the vast training grounds stretched far beyond what the eye could see, filled with soldiers of various appearances. These were men summoned from their respective territories, numbering over fifty thousand.


    When Michael first heard of this figure, he had been astonished, though he quickly composed himself. These fifty thousand soldiers were drawn from every corner of the territories, a desperate effort to militarize the population. Every man between the ages of sixteen and forty had been conscripted, resulting in this staggering number.


    Naturally, not all of them were suitable for military service. Most had never undergone proper training, and a thorough process of selection and reorganization would be essential. sea??h th§× N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    From the Crassus Barony, Michael had brought 2,500 men, a number that might seem modest compared to other territories but represented most of the able-bodied men from his domain. Only 1,000 of them were adequately trained soldiers; the remaining 1,500 would have to be shifted to auxiliary roles to avoid being wasted in combat.


    Protecting them was critical, as losing this many men would devastate the barony''s economy and society, despite leaving behind the minimum number required to sustain the territory. Though the conscription had begun with the intent to militarize the entire population, it was clear that not all able-bodied men could be deployed as frontline combatants.


    Of the assembled force, only 10,000 to 20,000 would form the initial vanguard.


    As Count Charles surveyed the soldiers with a grim expression, he spoke in a low voice to Michael.


    "Sir Michael, I noticed during my previous visit that your training methods are quite intriguing. Could you take charge of training some of these men? Of course, our family and others will also train soldiers."


    After a moment of thought, Michael nodded.


    "I''ll gladly take on about 5,000 soldiers, focusing on my own men as the core," he replied.


    It wasn''t that Michael lacked the ability to handle more but rather that there weren''t enough trainers available. Even if he deployed all his personal guards as instructors, training more than 5,000 men simultaneously would be impossible.


    Count Charles seemed to understand this and looked pleased.


    "Then I leave it to you. His Majesty has decreed that the least prepared planets will form the vanguard. The order is absolute, so I have decided to send our least-trained troops to the front lines. I hope everyone gives their best effort," the count remarked.


    As Count Charles finished speaking, minor nobles who had aligned themselves with the Crassus family gathered around Michael. Meanwhile, other nobles also began clustering together. While more soldiers were always welcome on the battlefield, no one wanted allies who would become a burden. The collective responsibility inherent in their society ensured that everyone carried a resolute demeanor.


    Michael led his troops and the soldiers from the minor nobles to an open field. The soldiers, naturally grouping by origin, carried weapons crafted in the Crassus Barony. Any skilled blacksmith could tell that these weapons, wielded by Michael''s soldiers, were sharper and sturdier than most.

 Chapter 133 - 133 Preparations for Deployment

    The sharpness of their weapons wasn''t the only distinguishing feature. Michael''s soldiers had undergone two months of intense training, transforming them into capable warriors. Their morale was unmatched, and the Crassus family''s elite guards, in particular, exhibited exceptional individual combat prowess.


    As a commander, Michael''s thoughts were conflicted. The confrontation with the Pamir Empire''s forces was drawing near, and he knew his time was limited. Could he raise these unpolished recruits to the level of the Crassus soldiers? Would his efforts bear fruit, or would they perish on the battlefield?


    Closing his eyes briefly, Michael inhaled deeply. All he could do now was prepare them to the best of his ability. Who would survive and who would fall in the flames of war was beyond anyone''s prediction.


    A week passed. The soldiers, to Michael''s surprise, were far more enthusiastic about their training than he had anticipated. Their zeal wasn''t driven solely by the fear of war¡ªit was also fueled by the intimidating presence of the magical beasts, Miaomiao and Marcus, who revealed their true forms as they sat grooming their claws.


    Michael had implemented a system where underperforming soldiers were separated and trained under the watchful eyes of the beasts. The results were extraordinary. To avoid being singled out for this special training, the soldiers pushed themselves harder.


    The story of a soldier who broke his leg while fleeing in terror from Miaomiao''s piercing gaze spread like wildfire. This incident birthed rumors that "subpar soldiers would become beast fodder." When Michael''s attendants, Alex and Anthony, reported this to him, he deemed the fear an acceptable price for maintaining discipline.


    After completing basic military training, Michael addressed the troops to boost their morale. Thanks to an amplification artifact crafted by Leonardo, his voice resonated across the field.


    "You have all worked hard," Michael began. "Thank you for diligently following the basic training regimen. But this is only the beginning. Soon, you will return to your respective legions and enter the fires of war. Even on the march, do not forget what you have learned here¡ªkeep practicing.


    "Even if you are conscripted peasants, you should know how much you stand to gain from earning merit in battle. The greater the danger, the greater the rewards. Soldiers, I wish you all good fortune!"


    As Michael''s speech concluded, the soldiers erupted into cheers, their faces brimming with determination. Watching them, Michael felt a pang of doubt. How many of them would survive to achieve glory? Having seen the brutality of war firsthand, he knew morale alone could not guarantee victory.


    Shaking off his thoughts, he reminded himself that he couldn''t afford to worry about others'' soldiers. It was challenging enough to ensure the safety of his own.


    Albert, a former bandit, cultist, and prisoner, had been assigned to the penal battalion, destined for the most perilous fronts. He had been captured during the fanatic rebellion and later conscripted as a model prisoner for reclamation projects.


    With the sudden outbreak of war, Albert, along with other petty criminals, found himself conscripted into the penal battalion. Despite this turn of events, Albert considered his situation not as dire as he had expected. He was fed three meals a day, and no one beat him¡ªconditions far better than he had feared.


    Though he was anxious about where he might be deployed, he thought it might be better to earn merits and gain freedom than endure twenty years of hard labor. Of course, surviving to achieve such a goal was another matter entirely.


    To calm his nerves, Albert began doing jumping exercises, focusing on building his stamina. While he was at it, a pickpocket named Jean approached him. Jean, a slightly dim but kind-hearted individual, had chosen ten years of forced labor over losing his hands as punishment for his crimes.


    "Albert, why are you always doing those jumping exercises?" Jean asked curiously.


    "If I build my stamina, I might be able to swing my spear one more time. You should stop wasting your breath and start moving too," Albert replied.


    "Ugh, I''m already tired of the training. If I move any more, I''ll probably throw up the barley bread I just ate. Besides, if it gets dangerous, I''ll just run," Jean said with a grin.


    Albert jabbed his finger at Jean.


    "Idiot! Don''t even think about running. If you run and get caught, you''ll die for nothing. Do you even know what that mark on your forehead is?"


    Jean rubbed his forehead indifferently, referring to the magical mark that Michael had ordered to be inscribed on every penal soldier before deployment. S§×arch* The NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "This? Eh, I''ll just burn it off with fire after I run," Jean replied nonchalantly.


    "You fool! That''s magic! If you don''t respond when the overseer calls your name, your head will explode right then and there," Albert snapped.


    Jean''s face turned pale.


    "No way... That Sir Michael, with his fine looks, would order something so horrific?"


    "Shh! Watch your mouth, you idiot. Do you want to get me killed too?" Albert hissed, pressing his hand over Jean''s mouth and glancing around nervously. His face was drenched in sweat.


    Albert still had nightmares about Michael, whose angelic face betrayed no emotion as he casually prepared torture tools.


    Jean spat out Albert''s hand.


    "Ugh, gross. What are you so scared of? I was just joking. Sir Michael''s one of the best nobles we could hope for. He feeds us, trains us, and even gives us good weapons. Do you know what it was like for penal soldiers before?"


    Jean''s voice dropped as he looked around conspiratorially, as if sharing a ghost story.


    "Penal soldiers like us used to be practice dummies for knights learning how to swing their swords. They said we were too troublesome to manage."


    Jean shuddered as he spoke but continued.


    "If the successor had taken over just a bit earlier, I wouldn''t have even thought about becoming a pickpocket. Do you know how much better life has gotten since he became the successor? Well, you wouldn''t know, coming from somewhere else."

 Chapter 134 - 134 Against The Odds

    Jean''s sudden shift in tone, as if brimming with pride, made Albert relax slightly.


    "Well... Compared to other nobles who treat their peasants and serfs like animals, he''s definitely better," Albert admitted. He then resumed his jumping exercises and urged Jean to join him.


    "Start moving too! If you want to survive, you need stamina."


    Meanwhile, Michael, unaware of how Albert and others perceived him, was focused on gathering more soldiers. While having a large army wasn''t always advantageous, having too few soldiers was a guaranteed disadvantage. In battles fought with cold steel, the number of soldiers directly influenced survival.


    Fortunately, the noble families who had observed Michael''s military training spread word of his methods, drawing many to join him. Most knights, lacking resources, could only maintain small contingents of fewer than a hundred soldiers. With limited funds and knowledge, they couldn''t dream of systematic training.


    The promise of training and weapons for those who aligned with the Crassus family was irresistible, and many flocked to join. For Michael, there was no reason to refuse. Increasing the number of allied soldiers was crucial to preserving his direct forces.


    Michael''s training philosophy remained consistent: seize opportunities to gain merits and, if defeat seemed inevitable, retreat faster than anyone else. If all his soldiers adhered to this principle, the worst could be avoided. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Sir Michael, thank you again. Thanks to you, my soldiers won''t have to charge into battle unarmed," said Joseph, an elderly knight with a hearty laugh.


    "Not at all, Sir Joseph. It''s thanks to you and your soldiers joining our legion that my worries have lessened," Michael replied.


    Joseph, a former mercenary who had roamed countless battlefields before awakening his aura and becoming a knight in his later years, chuckled. Though he had spent his life fighting, his fortunes hadn''t turned out as he had hoped. After spending all his savings to acquire a small fief, he had struggled to arm his fifty conscripted peasants properly. Joining Michael''s forces had been a blessing, as it allowed his men to be equipped.


    For Michael, gaining a seasoned mercenary-turned-knight was also advantageous. Though some high-ranking nobles scoffed at his recruitment of aging knights, Michael thought otherwise.


    In a war-torn world, knights who had survived despite lacking wealth and support were true assets.


    As Michael exchanged pleasantries with Sir Joseph, his squire Alex ran toward him.


    "My lord! Count Charles is requesting your presence!"


    Michael nodded. It was time to march.


    Inside the Pamir Empire''s border fortress, Crown Prince Oswald issued a cold command to the concubines scattered across his chamber.


    "Leave, all of you."


    This had long been Oswald''s habit. No matter how much he favored a concubine, he never allowed anyone to stay by his side while he slept. Once the concubines had left, Oswald, who had been lounging indulgently moments before, sat upright. His previously drunken demeanor had vanished, leaving no trace of inebriation.


    From the shadows, a figure emerged¡ªa mage in a black robe.


    "My lord, please do not overexert yourself," the mage urged.


    Oswald waved a dismissive hand at the figure.


    "I''m fine. I can endure. After all, how many years have I spent maintaining this charade? It''s not something I can abandon now," Oswald replied with a bitter smile.


    After a brief pause, he continued, "As long as the old man is alive, I have no choice but to continue this act. Now, what news do you have?"


    The black-robed mage, Carlton, looked at his master with a gaze full of pity and concern.


    "There''s no visible movement yet. For now, it seems the plan is to amass energy through the war," Carlton reported softly.


    "Of course," Oswald said with a hollow laugh. "Starting a war on such a massive scale... It means I still have some value left."


    The laugh quickly faded, and tears began to stream down his face. For years, Oswald had played the role of a hedonistic prince, indulging in wine and women and living a life that appeared carefree and devoid of anguish.


    But deep in his heart, pain resided, a torment born from secrets he could never share. The burden of that secret had consumed him over time.


    If only he could go back to that day when he was fifteen, he thought bitterly. He would stop himself from opening his brother''s coffin. If he hadn''t been driven by curiosity, he could have lived a life of blissful ignorance, like his other siblings, striving for power without knowing the truth.


    But that one choice had changed his life forever.


    "Don''t give up, my lord. It''s too soon for that," Carlton said in a low voice.


    Oswald chuckled weakly and stared at the ceiling.


    "Ha... After the war, when the energy has been gathered, my turn will come next. I won''t give up¡ªI''ll survive, no matter what. But... I can''t deny that I feel lost."


    After discovering that his aging father was extending his life at the cost of his children and subjects, Oswald had deliberately lived a life of excess. He wanted to appear worthless in his father''s eyes, believing that this was the only way to spare his life.


    But now, with no other blood relatives left, he could no longer see a way out. To survive, Oswald resolved to betray his father, though the thought tore at him.


    Was it truly inevitable for a father and son to shed each other''s blood? He agonized over the path ahead, uncertain of what awaited him at its end.


    In the military council, Michael stood among the assembled nobles as Count Charles addressed the group. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, and the knights and nobles, seated silently, seemed to sense the gravity of the moment as they awaited the count''s words.


    "Now that everyone is here, let me get straight to the point," Count Charles began decisively.


    "As many of you have already guessed, the time has come to march."


    He continued with a firm tone, "The Pamir Empire is attacking both the northwestern planet and the Elonia Kingdom. Their forces number a staggering 500,000. In comparison, even when combining our forces with those of the northwestern planet and Elonia, we can only muster 200,000. But this level of disparity is not new to us. We must do our best."

 Chapter 135 - 135 Archer Units

    The council chamber was filled with a tense silence. Michael and Dominic''s expressions were somber as the count proceeded with his orders.


    "The Pamir Empire seems to be focusing its main offensive on the Elonia Kingdom, leaving the northwestern planet relatively intact. Therefore, we will march to aid the Elonia Kingdom. All nobles and knights from the northeastern planet will take selected soldiers to the front lines. This includes everyone present here, myself included," Count Charles declared.


    The faces of those gathered reflected their solemn determination, Michael and Dominic among them.


    The selected troops would march first to reinforce the Elonia Kingdom. Although it was unusual for the Pamir Empire to target Elonia initially, whenever they did, it always resulted in heavy casualties. The burden of responsibility was immense.


    After a brief pause, Count Charles continued, "The rations we purchased earlier will be distributed, but other supplies are critically lacking¡ªweapons, armor, hay, arrows, medical cloth, horses, oxen, and camping equipment. We will assign quotas to each territory. Transporting supplies will be handled by a dedicated logistics unit, ensuring an uninterrupted flow of food and fodder. This crucial task will be led by Court Count Woodlock and a team of selected knights."


    As Count Charles'' aides began distributing scrolls detailing the quotas to each noble, Michael opened his scroll and carefully reviewed its contents. After a moment of contemplation, he raised his hand to speak.


    "Your Excellency, while it''s feasible to mobilize soldiers, meeting the exact quotas for every category of supplies may prove difficult. If every territory must contribute evenly across all categories, few would be able to meet the demands. Wouldn''t it be more efficient for each territory to focus on the categories they excel in?" Michael suggested.


    The nobles in the chamber nodded in agreement, and after a brief consideration, Count Charles also concurred.


    "As long as the total quantity is met, that approach should suffice. Let us proceed that way. Any shortfalls will be purchased with the command''s budget, and penalties will be imposed on territories that fail to contribute," the count concluded.


    The tension in the room eased slightly, as this solution seemed reasonable. Each noble began discussing their contributions, with the Crassus territory naturally offering to supply grain, as they had an abundance of it thanks to recent plundering from the Radiant Star Kingdom.


    Count Charles added a final note, "If any merchant attempts to hoard supplies or exploit the situation for profit, they will be severely punished. Report such actions directly to the command."


    The nobles nodded gravely. In times like these, there was no room for leniency. Over the years, the Lania Kingdom had suffered greatly from the Pamir Empire''s invasions, but it had learned the importance of thorough war preparations through hard earned lessons. No noble had forgotten them.


    After the meeting, Michael and Dominic gathered their selected troops. They ensured the transport of pre-prepared rations and finalized the logistics for departure. Other nobles, too, quickly readied their supplies, allowing the mobilization to proceed smoothly.


    Among the selected soldiers were mounted knights equipped as medium cavalry. Their performance would significantly increase the survival rate of the infantry. Michael, in particular, held high expectations for the archers he had personally selected and trained.


    True to Michael''s nickname as the "Divine Archer," he had assembled a formidable archer unit. Fortunately, the Pamir Empire''s soldiers were not well equipped. Armed with the bows Michael had procured, his archers could easily penetrate the enemy''s inferior armor.


    The ranks also included penal soldiers and conscripted serfs who were former prisoners. Driven by a fierce desire to restore their status, these men were determined to prove themselves, and their contributions were expected to be significant.


    Knights and mages from the capital were scheduled to rendezvous with the main force at the border. For now, there was no need to parade them around for display.


    In the royal palace of the Lania Kingdom, King Charles V listened to reports arriving from various regions. Gradually, his expression relaxed. The recruitment of soldiers and the procurement of supplies were proceeding smoothly. The years of rigorous preparation had not been in vain.


    Moreover, the news that the Pamir Empire was focusing its attack on the Elonia Kingdom instead of the northwestern planet came as a relief. While the kingdom was an ally, it was undoubtedly preferable to support a war in another nation than to see one erupt within his own borders.


    A faint, sardonic smile crept onto King Charles'' lips. Though alliances were important, he was ultimately the ruler of a single nation, and his priority was always the interest of his own kingdom.


    As Charles reviewed the support allocations, a particular detail caught his attention.


    "Why does the northeastern planet''s budget include so much animal meat? And milk? Are the soldiers so desperate for luxury that they''ve gone mad?" Charles asked, his voice tinged with irritation. In times of war, even bare essentials were often insufficient, and yet this appeared extravagant.


    Chancellor Lant responded calmly.


    "Your Majesty, Count Charles sent a letter explaining this matter personally. Do you recall the knight named Michael, who was presented to the court last time? He owns a dragon and a sphinx. The meat and milk are intended for these creatures."


    For a moment, King Charles was at a loss for words. On the continent of Rubel, magical beasts were treated with greater reverence than humans. Especially prized were first class magical beasts, considered treasures.


    Two first class magical beasts were being deployed, and denying their upkeep was unthinkable. After a brief moment of contemplation, Charles came to a decision.


    "Two first class magical beasts are being deployed, so we cannot refuse to fund their maintenance. However, pass this burden on to the Elonia Kingdom."


    To lend credibility to his decision, Charles outlined his reasoning further.


    "Let them know that we are deploying these beasts specifically for their benefit. With both a dragon and a sphinx in their support, they should shoulder this cost without complaint."


    S~ea??h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 136 - 136 The Pasha Kingdom Calculations

    With all the knights from the northeastern planet, 100,000 reinforcements, and two first-class magical beasts, Lania Kingdom''s commitment to its ally was evident. The cost of feeding the beasts seemed a reasonable price for Elonia to pay in return.


    Meanwhile, the Pasha Kingdom, another ally, found itself in a dilemma. As one of the three allied nations, it was obliged to respond to Elonia Kingdom''s request for assistance.


    The Lania Kingdom had already declared its commitment to send 100,000 troops. Being the only ally to abstain was not an option for the Pasha Kingdom.


    "Grand Duke Maximilian, how many troops should we send?" asked King Alphonse II in a youthful voice.


    The young king had never experienced war or overseen the mobilization of troops. Standing behind him was the Queen Dowager Regent, who exchanged a glance with her brother.


    "Alphonse, Grand Duke Maximilian is already overwhelmed with training the soldiers. Wouldn''t it be better to discuss this with your uncle instead?" the Queen Dowager suggested, her tone laced with authority.


    The Grand Duke scowled at the Queen Dowager''s blatant overreach.


    "Do not worry, Your Grace. Though I am old, I still have enough vigor for this task. Our Pasha Kingdom must send at least 50,000 troops, Your Majesty," Maximilian stated firmly.


    Politically and militarily, it was imperative for the Pasha Kingdom to participate. Failing to do so would jeopardize the alliance and leave them vulnerable in the future.


    "I would prefer to send more troops, but our resources are limited. However, we must act swiftly to reinforce Elonia''s border forts," Maximilian added.


    "Grand Duke Maximilian, do not be so naive," interjected Chancellor Guiness, a political rival and maternal relative of the king.


    "The Lania Kingdom''s declaration of 100,000 troops is surely an exaggeration. At best, they''ll send a few tens of thousands of peasants. What we should be discussing is how to make this situation most advantageous for the Pasha Kingdom. There''s no need to fret over our allies."


    Maximilian bristled at the chancellor''s dismissive tone.


    "What nonsense! Such treachery will only make us the scapegoat later!"


    "Haha, that is mere speculation. Preserving our forces is not a path to ruin. For the Pamir Empire to reach us, they must first pass through Elonia. They are not fools; they will not risk unnecessary danger," Guiness argued with a smirk.


    As the chancellor''s narrow perspective became more evident, the hot-blooded Grand Duke''s temper flared. His face flushed red as he shouted, his booming voice echoing through the chamber.


    Startled by the commotion, the young King Alphonse clutched at his mother''s skirt in fear.


    "Enough! You''re scaring Alphonse," the Queen Dowager snapped. "Grand Duke Maximilian, are you threatening a widow and a child? Return to your estate and reflect on your actions. As Regent, I decree that Chancellor Guiness will handle this matter."


    Defeated, Maximilian sighed deeply and left the hall. His heart was heavy with worry.


    "What will become of this kingdom?" he muttered to himself as he departed.


    King Henry III of the Elonia Kingdom heaved a sigh of relief upon hearing of Lania Kingdom''s support. The 100,000 soldiers, along with two first-class magical beasts and their accompanying knights and mages, would provide significant aid. Above all, it reassured him that Lania Kingdom was fulfilling its responsibilities as an ally.


    But his relief was short-lived. Chancellor Mark handed him a letter that filled him with fury.


    "Damn it! What is Pasha Kingdom thinking?" Henry III exclaimed.


    The letter stated that Pasha Kingdom''s reinforcements would gather at Renac Fortress to form a defensive line. Renac Fortress? If the Pamir Empire''s army reached Renac, the Duchy of Elonia would already have fallen beyond recovery.


    It was a purely symbolic gesture, devoid of any real value.


    "It seems Pasha Kingdom is trying to back out," Chancellor Mark said cautiously.


    "Of course. It must be that witless Queen Dowager Regent''s doing," Henry III muttered, letting out a deep sigh as he rested his head in his hands. His face was etched with frustration. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael soared into the sky on Marcus, his gaze scanning the long procession of troops marching silently with backpacks on their shoulders.


    The backpacks were Michael''s idea, suggested as essential military supplies, and they had proven to be of great help to the soldiers. The Crassus family, which had produced these backpacks, had reaped significant profits as well. By standardizing the contents of the backpacks, Michael had maximized efficiency, a strategy that had been successful.


    Leading the army as a cohesive unit was crucial. Like many other nobles, Michael had little faith in Elonia Kingdom''s logistical capabilities. Ensuring survival required every measure at his disposal.


    Watching his disciplined troops march in formation filled him with pride. The training and preparations had not been in vain.


    The sight of Michael''s soldiers stunned other nobles. Their orderly conduct and high morale were remarkable. While other noble armies had some elite soldiers, few, if any, could match Michael''s army, where every soldier seemed like an elite.


    Each soldier was well-fed, physically robust, and instilled with discipline forged through rigorous training and drills conducted under the watchful eyes of magical beasts. Their improved physical condition was evident.


    "Sir Michael, your soldiers make mine feel like a rabble. How on earth did you manage this?" one baron asked in awe.


    Another noble chimed in.


    "If your training methods could be applied to all our soldiers, it would be extraordinary. Could you share your methods?"


    Michael responded with a polite smile.


    "Haha, for now, let''s focus on the war. We can discuss this in detail afterward."


    The nobles had not asked out of genuine curiosity but rather to curry favor with Michael. It was clear to them that if Michael survived this war, he was destined for great success. Building a relationship with him now was a calculated move.


    Michael, perceiving their intentions, showed no sign of awareness. His focus remained solely on the war.


    Although the Lania Kingdom''s reinforcements advanced with vigor, the sheer size of the force slowed their progress. Amid this, urgent news arrived: the Elonia Kingdom''s Dolce defensive line was on the verge of collapse.

 Chapter 137 - 137 The Arrogant Crown Prince

    A royal envoy from Elonia, sent as a special emissary, stood before the assembled nobles and soldiers.


    "The situation is dire," he announced. "The Pamir Empire''s advance is faster than anticipated, and the defensive line is close to being breached. Look at Sir Michael''s forces¡ªso disciplined and exemplary! Follow his example, maintain your formations, and quicken your march!"


    The envoy praised Michael''s army''s orderliness and urged the others to emulate them, pushing for faster movement.


    Even though Michael tried to avoid drawing attention, the excellence of his forces inevitably stood out. Envy and resentment radiated from all sides, but Michael ignored the stares and focused on his responsibilities. S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The reinforcements included soldiers from five different planets, including the northeastern planet, resulting in a chaotic mix. Coordinating such a diverse force inevitably led to confusion.


    Although Duke Capone had been dispatched as the commander by the royal court, his efforts to unite the nobles from various regions faced significant challenges. Recognizing the issues, the royal envoy reported them to King Charles V.


    In the palace, King Charles V furrowed his brows as he read the report. The message highlighted how chaotic the reinforcements were, except for the 5,000 soldiers under Michael''s command.


    Chancellor Lant offered his assessment with measured words.


    "Your Majesty, it was always going to be challenging to mobilize such a large force and march them together. Duke Capone lacks the reputation needed to unite nobles from various territories. Perhaps it''s time to consider replacing the commander."


    As the kingdom''s chancellor, Lant had identified the root of the problem. The more diverse the army''s composition, the higher the demands on its commander. While a duke theoretically had enough authority to lead a coalition, Duke Capone''s courtly background left him with little practical influence.


    Out of respect for the king, the nobles treated Duke Capone with courtesy, but courtesy alone could not ensure effective leadership.


    "But sending another commander would be difficult given the domestic situation," the king replied. "With the Pamir Empire''s movements unpredictable, our key generals cannot leave their posts."


    Chancellor Lant offered a subtle suggestion.


    "The commander need not necessarily be a military figure, Your Majesty."


    King Charles V paused, deep in thought. He had already been considering this possibility.


    "Are you suggesting the crown prince?"


    On the continent of Rubel, it was not uncommon for kings or crown princes to personally lead armies.


    It was a common tradition on the continent for a crown prince to take on a nominal role as commander by personally going to the battlefield. The more King Charles V considered it, the more sense it made.


    "Yes, this could be a good opportunity for him to gain experience. Since it''s the path of reinforcements, we''ll ensure he stays in the safest areas¡ªnothing should go wrong," the king decided.


    With the sudden announcement that the crown prince himself would join the battlefield, Count Charles convened all the nobles of the northeastern planet. When Michael first heard the news, he was dumbfounded.


    The crown prince on a dangerous battlefield? Wouldn''t it be better to send a different commander if Duke Capone was inadequate? But soon, Michael realized the strategic reasoning.


    No commander would dare place the crown prince in real danger. The prince''s presence would be more symbolic than practical, and there was little risk involved as long as he didn''t directly enter combat. Strategically, an expedition to a foreign land was preferable to remaining in the domestic sphere.


    If the expedition succeeded, the crown prince would take the credit; if it failed, Elonia Kingdom would bear the blame for its incompetence.


    The news of the crown prince''s arrival on the front line excited many, but Michael remained indifferent, focusing instead on maintaining military discipline.


    Michael saw no reason to curry favor with the crown prince unless he planned to enter the royal court, which he did not. He already had a connection with Princess Astrid, and maintaining that relationship was more about building his reputation than seeking real power. Besides, Astrid had a personality he found agreeable, while the crown prince did not.


    Michael''s first impression of the prince had been one of excessive arrogance, a trait undesirable in a leader or a future king.


    Thanks to Michael''s efforts, his 5,000 soldiers were even more disciplined than before. Marching in perfect formation, their unified steps drew everyone''s attention. Though they had not yet entered the battlefield, Michael''s reputation was spreading throughout the army.


    The royal envoy''s public praise of Michael further amplified his fame. As the owner of both a dragon and a sphinx, a master archer, and a skilled commander, Michael''s renown was inevitable.


    While overseeing his soldiers'' march, Michael spotted a group of magical beasts flying toward them. As he looked up, his gaze lingered briefly on the young man dressed in elaborate attire, riding a third-class magical beast¡ªa pegasus. It was the crown prince, Randolph.


    Excitement lit up Randolph''s face as he called out, "Sir Michael, your army is as disciplined as the rumors say. This expedition is going to be quite exciting!"


    Beside him, General Leonard, his advisor and bodyguard, cleared his throat.


    "Your Highness, you must not let your excitement cloud your judgment. The fact that Sir Michael''s army stands out so much only underscores the poor condition of the other forces. Do not underestimate this campaign," the general cautioned.


    Randolph scoffed.


    "Hmph! I know that. Don''t be so rigid," he replied dismissively.


    Nearby, Duke Capone, riding a gryphon, appeared deeply troubled. Not only had he been sidelined from command, but now he also had to manage the whims of the reckless crown prince. Young nobles often overestimated their abilities, and this tendency was even stronger in those of high status.


    Sighing, the duke thought about the prince''s arrogance. He only hoped the prince wouldn''t overestimate the capabilities of the expeditionary forces based on Michael''s exceptional army and attempt something beyond their means.


    "Ha! Let''s hurry down¡ªI want another look at Sir Michael''s dragon and sphinx," Randolph declared, urging his pegasus to descend before anyone could stop him.

 Chapter 138 - 138 The Greenhouse Prince

    The naturally gentle pegasus obeyed its master''s command, gliding down toward the ground. General Leonard and Duke Capone reluctantly followed.


    As Randolph landed, his escort knights waved banners to announce his arrival. Nobles, led by Count Charles, quickly gathered around the prince, bowing respectfully. S~ea??h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Greetings to the kingdom''s young sun. General Leonard, Duke Capone, welcome. You must be weary from your journey. Shall we arrange for you to ride in the carriage?"


    The sudden appearance of such high-ranking figures stirred excitement among the troops. While the soldiers celebrated, Michael remained unenthused. The crown prince''s presence was not something he welcomed.


    Unlike the other nobles, Michael stood quietly at the rear, avoiding the commotion. But Randolph soon singled him out.


    "Sir Michael! There you are. Come over here," the prince called out.


    Michael frowned briefly before smoothing his expression. There was no need to display hostility.


    As Randolph enthusiastically shared his views on military strategy, Michael listened without expressing any opinions. It wasn''t that he lacked thoughts on the matter, but speaking candidly on such sensitive topics was dangerous.


    While the prince had the liberty to discuss any subject, Michael could not afford the same freedom. His restraint was not due to timidity but a calculated decision. Michael respected King Charles V not because of his title but because of his exceptional leadership and merit as a ruler. The crown prince, however, had yet to demonstrate such worth.


    Randolph, noticing Michael''s lack of response, frowned.


    "Sir Michael, you''ve been rather quiet. Do you find my ideas unworthy of a reply?" he asked, irritation evident in his tone.


    Before Michael could answer, Duke Capone intervened.


    "Your Highness, such words are uncalled for. Sir Michael is merely a corps commander. He refrains from commenting out of respect for your authority, not out of disdain. Please forgive any perceived slight."


    Randolph''s scowl softened, and he laughed heartily. Clapping Michael on the shoulder, he declared,


    "Ha! So that''s how it is. It would be a shame for someone as talented as you to lack the position you deserve. I value ability above all else. As supreme commander of the expeditionary forces, I hereby appoint Sir Michael von Crassus as the First Corps Commander and bestow upon him the rank of baron!"


    The sudden announcement left everyone stunned.


    As supreme commander, the crown prince had the authority to make such appointments, but doing so without prior consultation was unprecedented.


    While Michael''s qualifications were undeniable¡ªbeing the owner of a dragon and a sphinx, an exceptional archer, and a brilliant tactician¡ªthe promotion seemed abrupt.


    Amused by the unexpected turn of events, Michael thought to himself,


    "Even arrogant and impulsive superiors can occasionally be useful."


    The sudden elevation of Michael''s status startled the nobles, prompting murmurs and sidelong glances. Their envious stares brushed past him, but Michael remained impassive, offering gratitude to the crown prince who had granted him the title. In such a situation, excessive flattery or overt displays of joy could easily invite trouble.


    The crown prince appeared oblivious to the nobles'' discontent. To him, the soldiers under Michael''s command seemed to be the only true army, while the rest were nothing more than a disorganized rabble.


    In truth, the other noble-led armies weren''t intentionally lax in discipline or deliberately slowing their march. On the contrary, their pace was relatively quick¡ªcovering approximately 20 kilometers a day despite being hastily assembled infantry units. However, in comparison to Michael''s forces, their efforts seemed insignificant.


    "It''s merely a reward for a knight who set an example during these trying times. What is there to complain about?" the crown prince asked, his brow furrowed as he glanced around. Sensing his dissatisfaction, the nobles quickly quieted down.


    "All the nobles need to do is fulfill their duties as faithfully as Sir Michael," he added. His simplistic perspective only made the atmosphere more uncomfortable.


    Perhaps it was because he had been raised in the comfort of a greenhouse-like environment, but his political instincts were woefully lacking. It was hard to believe he was the son of Charles V, who was famed for his cunning political acumen. Was it because he was the only prince and had been excessively coddled? Or was his eagerness to step out of his father''s shadow leading to repeated blunders?


    The nobles responded with silence, their gazes growing colder.


    Unable to bear the crown prince''s continued missteps, Duke Capone intervened. "Your Highness, it seems we will soon reach the border of the Kingdom of Elonia. How should we prepare for the inspection?"


    The crown prince, who had been venting his frustrations, finally collected himself. "There''s no need for a formal inspection. After all, not all the troops have gathered yet. The gravity of the situation should ensure the Kingdom of Elonia understands."


    Although his tone was calmer, an undercurrent of arrogance still lingered. Duke Capone noted that the crown prince still failed to fully grasp the situation. However, as a seasoned politician, he concealed his thoughts and carefully continued, "A wise decision, Your Highness. It would be best to rest briefly at the border fortress and finalize how we''ll engage after all reinforcements arrive. If Your Highness personally explains the circumstances, it will prevent any unnecessary misunderstandings with the Kingdom of Elonia."


    Michael silently admired Duke Capone''s tact. Initially, he had questioned why such an inept prince was given any autonomy, but it became clear that the duke''s presence was a key reason. Above all, Michael doubted Charles V truly understood how disastrously incompetent his son was. After all, even a hedgehog finds its offspring endearing.


    Meanwhile, in the Kingdom of Elonia, the atmosphere inside the palace''s conference room was tense as the sun set. Urgent reports from the frontline arrived one after another, and the heavy air pressed down on everyone present.


    News came that two of the five main tribes of the Pamir Empire, considered its primary force, had begun their invasion.


    "When will reinforcements from the Kingdom of Lania arrive?" King Henry III asked in a voice heavy with fatigue.


    Dark circles hung beneath his eyes, and his shoulders drooped as if burdened by the weight of the world. Today, more than ever, the throne felt unbearably uncomfortable. The fate of the Kingdom of Elonia teetered on the edge of collapse.

 Chapter 139 - 139 The Desperate Situation Of Elonia

    All able-bodied men capable of wielding weapons had already been sent to the front lines, leaving only the bare minimum to guard the capital. Despite these efforts, they had barely managed to hold back the enemy''s vanguard. The growing pressure was steadily pushing the front line to its breaking point.


    "Your Majesty, nearly 30,000 troops from the Kingdom of Lania''s reinforcements have already arrived at the border. Additional forces are en route, and the full force of 100,000 soldiers is expected to assemble within three or four days. Please do not be overly concerned. They are doing their utmost," Chancellor Mark explained, his expression troubled.


    Privately, Mark seethed at Lania''s calculated moves. If they intended to send reinforcements, why not deploy their elite border troops instead of conscripting private armies from noble families in the rear?


    Reports indicated that only the first corps could be considered elite among the reinforcements, while the rest were poorly trained and advancing sluggishly. Though he refrained from voicing these thoughts to avoid demoralizing the court, his dissatisfaction with Lania''s actions was evident.


    Further exacerbating his frustration was the news that Lania had been expanding its border fortresses. It was clear they were preparing for Elonia''s potential fall.


    "Even so, compared to the Kingdom of Pasha, which hasn''t sent any reinforcements, Lania could be considered cooperative," King Henry III murmured, trailing off into thought. He could not simply stand by as war threatened to consume his nation.


    Resolute, Henry III adopted a colder demeanor. "Send an envoy to the border to inform Lania''s nobles: any who achieve significant merits in defending our border will be granted wealth, titles, and land¡ªregardless of nationality."


    Noble troops, being pragmatic by nature, would undoubtedly strive to minimize their losses. However, as reinforcements fighting on foreign soil, they would need concrete incentives to risk their lives.


    Even if it meant giving up half the kingdom, it would be preferable to complete ruin. After all, as the war progressed, more unclaimed land would inevitably emerge along the border.


    The king''s decree sparked a commotion in the conference room. As the murmurs grew louder, Henry III slammed his hand on the table, silencing the room.


    "Enough!" he commanded.


    All eyes turned toward the king. "No matter what is said, this decision will not be overturned. Only Chancellor Mark will remain; the rest of you may leave!"


    Faced with the king''s firm tone, the nobles had no choice but to withdraw quietly.


    Once the room emptied, leaving only Chancellor Mark and King Henry III, the king let out a weary sigh, shedding his royal composure. S§×ar?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "There truly is no other way," he lamented, despair and resignation filling his gaze.


    "Sending their crown prince as commander shows that Lania has no real intention of committing to this war. If they were serious, they wouldn''t send their prince into such a perilous situation. They''re hedging their bets¡ªhoping for gains if he succeeds, but ready to accept the loss if he doesn''t."


    Chancellor Mark lowered his head, unable to refute the painful truth. As both the king''s chancellor and brother-in-law, he was left speechless.


    Breaking the silence, Henry III abruptly suggested, "What if we sent Elise and Charlotte to the border fortress? Not just because they''re my daughters, but because I believe they could capture the crown prince''s interest. Try convincing the queen. She won''t listen to me."


    Mark felt his breath catch at the unexpected proposal.


    The faces of his young nieces, only fifteen and seventeen years old, suddenly flashed through Chancellor Mark''s mind.


    That cannot be allowed!


    He lifted his head, his lips trembling as he saw tears streaming down the king''s face. The weight on his chest left him speechless. The realization that the situation had become so desperate that even the princesses might be used in such a scheme filled him with deep sorrow.


    Finally, he bowed his head in submission. "I will¡­ do my utmost to persuade the queen, Your Majesty."


    Within the Papal States, a heavy silence and palpable tension filled the air. High-ranking clergy in the Pope''s office sat rigidly, exchanging uneasy glances. The magical candle on the long meeting table cast eerie shadows across their faces.


    Rumors had spread across the continent like wildfire following the dismissal of an archbishop for meddling in the imperial succession of the Celeste Empire. Worse yet, revelations about their involvement in the Pamir Empire''s activities had emerged.


    Whispers claimed that the Pamir Empire''s recent invasion had been instigated by the Holy State. Even more damning, some rumors suggested that the original target of the Holy State''s manipulation was the Kingdom of Lania, but due to unpaid compensation, the Kingdom of Elonia had become the unintended victim instead.


    The problem was that these rumors were true.


    In response, the Celeste Empire severed all diplomatic relations with the Holy State and declared it would expel the Radiance Church entirely. The Kingdom of Lania, seemingly waiting for such an opportunity, issued a strong condemnation. Although the Kingdom of Elonia, overwhelmed by its immediate crisis, refrained from issuing an official statement, it revealed its displeasure by confiscating church-owned assets.


    In some foreign Radiance Church temples, high-ranking clergy of the Holy State were even denounced as heretics and publicly decried. The humiliation was unparalleled.


    "What is the meaning of all this?"


    The Pope''s reprimand echoed through the office, causing the leader of the Knights of Xenos to shrink back.


    "Your Holiness, twenty ships laden with grain left the port, but none reached their destination," the knight stammered.


    "Does that even make sense? If a storm had sunk them, other ships from other nations would have been affected too! Are you telling me that only our ships¡ªspecifically those carrying grain¡ªwere lost?"


    The knight tried to offer another explanation. "Perhaps¡­ the Kingdom of Lania or the Celeste Empire noticed our actions and sent a mage to intervene¡­"


    The Pope, Allegro III, erupted in fury. "What nonsense! Do you think they have mages who could track ships in the vast open sea and cast spells on them? Do you not understand that high-ranking mages have been almost extinct since the heretic purges over millennia ago?"

 Chapter 140 - 140 Sigmund

    At that moment, Cardinal Pablo, a lifelong rival of the Knight Commander, spoke up. "It''s clear there''s a spy within the Holy Knights. How else could this happen?"


    The knight slammed his fist on the table and snarled, "Silence! Are you accusing our knights of treachery?"


    Pablo smirked. "If not, how do you explain this? Someone must have uncovered our plans and stolen only the grain meant for the Pamir Empire, leaving no trace behind. What''s next¡ªghost ships crewed by phantom pirates?"


    Unknowingly, Pablo''s sarcastic remark came closer to the truth than anyone realized. In reality, Zark, acting on Michael''s orders, had orchestrated the scheme, though no one in the room was aware of it.


    Pablo continued his mocking tone. "And now rumors are spreading as though someone deliberately wanted them to. Rumors that reveal our plans in excruciating detail. This reeks of Holy Knight involvement. How will you explain that?"


    Though Pablo''s accusations hit uncomfortably close to home, the truth remained elusive to all.


    The Knight Commander bristled. "Our knights are all sons of noble families. None of them would ever stoop to such actions¡­"


    Pablo scoffed. "Oh? Are you saying every one of them is above reproach? Even after all the purges and expulsions, I doubt that''s true."


    As the argument escalated, Allegro III could bear no more. "Enough! Be silent, all of you!"


    His shout echoed through the room. "This is not the time to argue over how things came to this. We must focus on how to resolve it!"


    Although his words blatantly favored the Holy Knights, none dared challenge him. It was an open secret that the Holy Knights served as the Pope''s enforcers, cleaning up his messes.


    Another cardinal cautiously spoke up. "Your Holiness, in a situation like this, perhaps silence is the best course. After all, time will pass, and this too shall fade. Has the Holy State not weathered worse storms in its illustrious history?"


    The others nodded in agreement, as did the Pope.


    This was a fitting strategy for a group that had committed countless schemes and faced no accountability. At this level of entanglement, brazen disregard was often the most effective approach.


    "Very well. We''ll let this pass. What can they possibly do to us?"


    The Pope concluded the meeting.


    Much later, Allegro III would regret this decision deeply. But for now, he remained oblivious to the storm yet to come.


    The Celeste Empire''s capital radiated magnificence befitting its reputation as the second-greatest empire on the continent. The imperial palace, constructed from gleaming white marble, shone brilliantly under the sun.


    In the throne room, the young emperor Sigmund, who had recently ascended to the throne following his coronation, burst into laughter. His laughter was filled with mockery.


    "Haha! The look on that old Pope''s face must be priceless."


    Lelius, the son of a grand duke and a companion to the emperor, smirked in response. "Indeed, Your Majesty. It is the price for daring to challenge the divine authority bestowed upon you by the heavens."


    The emperor tilted his goblet and took a sip, his smile lingering. "Cut the formal talk, Lelius. You know how much I despise that."


    Sigmund''s gaze fixed on Lelius. Though his lips smiled, his eyes were cold and calculating.


    "Still, Your Majesty, one must maintain the dignity of one''s station," Lelius replied cautiously.


    "Sigh¡­ Fine. I suppose there''s no helping it," Sigmund said, his expression softening just enough to let Lelius breathe a sigh of relief internally. If he had taken the emperor''s words at face value and acted too familiarly, his current status might have been forfeit.


    "Well, the Holy State wouldn''t have provoked us with their military expansions and such if they hadn''t overreached. But now that we''ve started, we must see it through to the end," Sigmund mused, idly tracing the rim of his goblet with a finger.


    The Holy State''s interference in the Celeste Empire''s succession was not a new issue, but this time Sigmund was determined to address it decisively. Their military expansions, meant to sustain their growing forces, had destabilized the continent and revived memories of the era when the Holy State dominated. This tension had finally prompted the empire to publicly denounce them.


    "So, what do you think we should do now? Elonia and Lania have requested reinforcements. We''ll have to make a show of goodwill, won''t we?" Sigmund asked.


    "Lip and teeth depend on each other," Lelius replied.


    Without the defensive buffer of the countries bordering the Pamir Empire, the savage tribes would inevitably push into the continent''s central regions. S§×arch* The ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Ah, what a nuisance. The five main tribes, in particular, are such a headache. Did you know they carry the blood of the ancient beastfolk?" Sigmund''s sudden statement startled Lelius.


    "Pardon? The ancient beastfolk?"


    "Yes, the ones said to have been created through unions with dark gods. The five main tribes are descended from them. That''s why they''re so aggressive and possess certain abilities. Especially their royal lineage. They say the tribes'' warriors channel spirits into their bodies during battle. Hah, spirits? It''s just their beastfolk blood manifesting. One of the reasons we fight so hard to keep the Pamir Empire out of the continent is because of this. It''s a secret known only to our family and the heads of other royal families," Sigmund said nonchalantly.


    Hearing this revelation so casually shared, Lelius felt a chill run down his spine.


    Why is he bringing this up now?


    "Lelius, my idiot father might have been good for nothing, but he sure had a talent for fathering children. Even though I''ve killed all my brothers except for the one who fled, I have no desire to kill the daughters who hold no claim to the throne. That''s left me with quite a lot of sisters. Arranging marriages for them all is giving me a headache. Since they don''t share the same mother as me, I don''t want to risk sending them to other royal families. So, why don''t we become a real family ourselves?"


    Sigmund''s golden eyes glinted with madness as he looked at Lelius.


    This was the unique lunacy of the Celeste Imperial Family, who had once intermarried siblings under the pretext of preserving territory and reducing dowries. Though such practices were no longer in place, their bloodthirsty, feral tendencies persisted.


    But I have a fianc¨¦e¡­! Lelius swallowed the words rising in his throat and nodded instead.

 Chapter 141 - 141 The First Battle

    He revealed the royal family''s secret first to pressure me. What a terrifying man.


    "I am honored, Your Majesty," Lelius said, bowing and kneeling on one knee.


    Sigmund regarded the back of Lelius''s head coldly. She''s just a commoner''s daughter with no claim to the throne anyway. A capable subordinate like him is worth keeping close¡ªand under surveillance.


    "Oh, by the way, how goes the search for my beloved brother?"


    Lelius swallowed hard and broke into a cold sweat. "It is proceeding well, Your Majesty. We''ve uncovered a critical lead and are tracking him as we speak. I will ensure he is brought to you as soon as possible."


    Sigmund''s lips curled into a sinister smile. "Good. Bring him to me quickly, so I can tear him apart with my own hands."


    In a dark room with drawn curtains, Charles V stared intently at an ornate mirror hanging on the wall. The surface of the mirror rippled like water. S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    This artifact, known as the "Mirror of Communion," was a priceless relic passed down among the leaders of the eight major nations of the continent.


    Charles V traced the edge of the mirror with a heavy hand. It was only used during moments of extreme upheaval, such as the Pamir Empire''s invasion. The activation of the mirror required the recitation of an ancient incantation, which exacted a toll on the life force of all participants.


    Although the drained vitality would gradually replenish, the resulting fatigue and emptiness were not easily endured. There was even the lingering fear that it might reduce one''s lifespan. Thus, the mirror could only be used with the unanimous agreement of all eight leaders.


    At the repeated urging of Henry III of Elonia, the leaders had finally agreed to convene. As their vitality was offered to the mirror, the images of the leaders began to materialize.


    Their forms appeared distorted as though reflected on water, their expressions obscured. Gradually, as all were seated, the vision cleared.


    Henry III was the first to speak. "Thank you for responding to this call. The situation has become dire. The Pamir Empire has crossed our borders and begun pillaging. We can no longer hold them back. If we continue to stand by, the entire continent will be engulfed in war."


    Charles V, having already sent reinforcements, watched the others with a calm demeanor. His eyes caught the regent of the Pasha Kingdom clasping her hands as if grappling with guilt. In the young king''s stead, she stammered out a response.


    "Our¡­ our kingdom has already mobilized to the Lenac Fortress. We are holding our ground there to prevent further incursions. We have no resources left to spare."


    Sigmund, seated arrogantly, spoke next. "The northern three nations formed an alliance to support one another, did they not? If I recall, during the last war, the Kingdom of Lania alone managed to hold out for over a year. Why are we hearing such complaints so soon this time?"


    Henry III gritted his teeth but forced himself to remain composed. He couldn''t let the provocation get to him.


    As for the Pasha Kingdom¡­ The betrayal left a bitter taste in his mouth, but there was no choice. They would have to settle the score for breaking the alliance once the war was over.


    "We have made grave mistakes. Our preparations for war were inadequate, and the most critical defensive line, the Dolce Fortress, fell far too easily. I humbly petition for the assembly of allied forces," Henry III pleaded.


    Sigmund''s gaze shifted to Allegro III. "Pope, have you nothing to say about this situation? Strange rumors are spreading across the continent."


    Allegro III feigned ignorance, his practiced indifference honed over fifty years. Even Henry III''s piercing glare, which seemed to scream a desire to strangle him on the spot, failed to faze him.


    "Ahem. The Holy State has already prepared reinforcements," Allegro III finally declared, though the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.


    Originally, he had planned to send reinforcements triumphantly, casting the Holy State as the savior of the continent. But now, it felt like a concession born of guilt, an offering given under duress. Even his unparalleled audacity couldn''t transform the current circumstances into a moment of glory.


    "Well, the more people, the better. Even if they''re knights who haven''t seen proper combat in decades," Charles V remarked sarcastically, causing the Pope''s blood pressure to spike.


    Yet the comment held truth. Despite numerous wars over the years, the Holy State had rarely, if ever, dispatched reinforcements.


    "This time, the Holy Knights will display their full might. We will deploy 1,000 of our elite knights, 50,000 infantry, and 50 hippogriff riders," Allegro III announced.


    Henry III nodded with satisfaction. While rumors painted the Holy State as the root of all the current turmoil, their willingness to take responsibility was reassuring. Even if this gesture was a means to assert their dominance and pressure other nations, it hardly mattered now.


    Romano II of the Kingdom of Therma spoke up. The longer the meeting dragged on, the greater the toll it took. From his position in the central continent, where his kingdom often watched conflicts from the sidelines, he was eager to conclude the discussions swiftly.


    "Deployments are inevitable, aren''t they? Let''s quickly confirm troop commitments and decide which front to prioritize. The Kingdom of Therma will send 2,000 cavalry, 20 wyvern riders, and 30,000 infantry. However, given the distance, it will take some time for the full force to arrive. The cavalry and wyvern riders will reach their destinations first. From my perspective, the Kingdom of Elonia appears to be in the most urgent need. What say you?"


    Charles V nodded heavily. The primary front was already forming along Elonia''s border.


    "I agree. However, once the Kingdom of Elonia is stabilized, we will need your support in our territories as well."


    "Agreed. But keep in mind, we cannot provide additional reinforcements should our forces dwindle. The Kingdom of Therma is not a military-focused nation," Romano replied, his proposal reasonable.


    Everyone nodded in agreement.


    The Kingdom of Astoria, which had a similar level of power as Therma, pledged an equivalent force but offered three Class-3 magical beasts in place of wyvern riders.

 Chapter 142 - 142 The Terror Of The Dragon

    The Brabant Kingdom, being closer to the north, committed slightly larger numbers: 3,000 cavalry, 50,000 infantry, and 100 reptar riders. These troops would all be sent to the Kingdom of Elonia.


    Among those gathered, Sigmund, representing the most powerful Celeste Empire, observed with a sardonic smile. As all eyes turned toward him, the young emperor brought his hand down loudly on the central round table.


    "Our Celeste Empire," he began, "plans to establish a new Papal Office. The god we will serve is¡­ the Sun."


    It was a clear provocation. The Sun and Radiance were essentially synonymous!


    By invoking a different name for the same deity, the flow of power and faith toward Radiance would weaken. The Pope exploded with fury.


    "What madness is this? The Holy See of Radiance already exists! How dare you?!"


    "The god you serve is Radiance. The god we serve is the Sun. Where is the problem?" Sigmund replied smoothly.


    The room fell silent as the other monarchs watched Sigmund and Allegro III with wide-eyed astonishment. It was a display of audacity befitting the second-greatest empire on the continent¡ªpractically a slap in the face.


    "If you dislike it, return my brother, who fled to your lands. Then we can reconsider," Sigmund added.


    Allegro III trembled with rage, his body shaking uncontrollably.


    "You lunatic! You''ve lost your mind! Why would your brother be with us¡­?"


    Sigmund''s eyes, gleaming with madness, bore into the Pope.


    "You know better than anyone, don''t you? You have one week. Return him alive¡ªor else. Mark my words¡ªhe must be alive. Understood?"


    Sigmund cast one last glance at the Pope''s red, furious face before smiling brightly. Turning to Henry III, he said, "Apologies, Henry, for the delay. Of course, we''ll send reinforcements: 5,000 cavalry, 50,000 infantry, and 50 griffon riders. And now, if you''ll excuse me."


    Before the Pope could rise in protest, Sigmund vanished from the room.


    One by one, the other monarchs coughed awkwardly and disappeared from the meeting, leaving a trembling, enraged Pope and a bewildered Henry III to guard the shadowed world reflected in the mirror.


    Michael crossed the border and was welcomed by the Elonian army. The crown prince had already been escorted to the command tent with special treatment.


    Around the fortress, tattered flags fluttered in the wind¡ªa symbol of Elonia''s dire circumstances.


    The courtyard of the temporary base was filled with wounded soldiers. Healers and medics who had arrived with the reinforcements moved quickly, prioritizing the severely injured while leaving minor injuries to field medics.


    The state of the base made it clear that there was no time for ceremonial inspections.


    As Michael mounted his dragon, Marcus, to assess the situation, the fortress''s alarm bells began to ring frantically.


    Beyond the fragile walls, the Pamir Empire''s forces were advancing with battering rams.


    Three in total, these siege engines, while crudely built, were still formidable. The Pamir Empire, lacking magicians among their ranks, relied heavily on such devices. Flying serpents circled the rams, providing aerial protection.


    Without hesitation, Michael soared into the sky on Marcus.


    "Marcus, breathe fire on those battering rams! the kitten, eliminate any ground forces that might be armed with anti-dragon ballistae. Garrett, cover the airspace! We must seize control of the skies." sea??h th§× n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Gargoyles, previously concealed as small stone figurines in a box strapped to Marcus''s saddle, awoke. Their stone bodies stretched, and they let out a long wail before taking flight to shield Marcus like arrows in the air.


    Thus began the first battle of this war.


    Marcus''s massive wings beat with a thunderous roar, their shadow eclipsing the battlefield as the setting sun illuminated his silhouette. Flames erupted from his jaws, cutting through the air like a living entity and engulfing a battering ram in their fiery embrace.


    The siege engine groaned under the intense heat, its iron plates glowing red-hot and its wooden beams consumed by flames. Black smoke billowed into the sky as the structure began to collapse. With the support beams failing, the heavy chains and mechanisms fell one by one, shaking the earth with each impact.


    Pamir Empire soldiers stationed atop the battering ram screamed as the flames consumed them. Meanwhile, snake-like beasts circling nearby attempted to extinguish the fire with jets of water, but their efforts were futile. Compared to Marcus''s inferno, the water streams were pitiful, evaporating instantly in the overwhelming heat.


    The serpentine beasts writhed in desperation, trying to evade the flames, but it was too late. The fire latched onto their scales, climbing their bodies and silencing their anguished cries. As the burnt remains of the beasts fell to the ground, Marcus let out a victorious roar.


    Before the sheer terror of the dragon, the Pamir soldiers scattered in panic.


    "It''s a dragon! Save us!"


    "Argh!"


    Warriors of the tribes rushed forward on horseback, desperately trying to extinguish the blaze. They poured water and heaped sand onto the flames, doing everything they could to combat the inferno. But their efforts were in vain¡ªthe fire only grew stronger, mocking their attempts.


    The blistering heat was unbearable, forcing even those who approached to flee. Warriors caught in the flames screamed and writhed, their bodies alight like grotesque human candles. No one dared approach the battering ram again, leaving only the sound of crackling flames, clanging metal, and thick smoke to dominate the battlefield.


    The soldiers of the Pamir Empire could only watch in stunned silence. In an instant, they had lost all three of their battering rams. Attempting a counterattack, they aimed their ballistae at Marcus, but their efforts were swiftly thwarted.


    Miaomiao, reverting to her original form, darted through the enemy ranks like a flash of lightning, tearing apart the soldiers manning the ballistae. In her wake, she left dismembered limbs, shattered weapons, and blood-soaked earth. Once her work was done, she shrank back into a smaller form and disappeared into the chaos of the imperial army.


    From a distance, enemy beasts rose into the air to challenge Marcus. Griffins and wyverns filled the skies, their piercing cries echoing across the battlefield.


    Garrett''s calm voice warned Michael.


    [Five griffins and twelve wyverns are approaching. Coordinates: 40 degrees west, 70 degrees below Marcus''s current position.]

 Chapter 143 - 143 Rampage Across The Battlefield

    Michael turned, spotting the advancing beasts. Assessing the situation, he issued an order to Marcus.


    "Marcus, climb above the clouds. Let''s use the strategy we practiced. Remember?"


    Excitement coursed through Marcus as he straightened his body, his pulse thrumming beneath Michael''s grip on the reins. With his wings fully spread, Marcus soared into the sky, his enormous frame cutting through the wind. Michael couldn''t help but smile at the familiar rush of air against his face.


    It was a sensation he had deeply missed.


    As Marcus ascended through the clouds, the gargoyles sprang into action. They quickly filled the space Marcus vacated, retrieving bombs from the pouches around their necks. Lighting the fuses with care, they hurled the explosives at the approaching beasts before retreating to safety.


    Unlike the autonomous gargoyles, the imperial beasts carried riders, who mistakenly swung their swords at the incoming bombs. It was a grave error.


    The flaming bombs exploded upon contact, unleashing a fiery blast that scattered shockwaves through the air. The beasts caught in the explosion roared in agony, their bodies twisting as they desperately tried to extinguish the flames¡ªbut it was useless. One by one, the burning creatures plummeted to the ground.


    From their vantage point above the clouds, Marcus and Michael surveyed the battlefield. Marcus''s eyes gleamed as he observed the carnage below: the burning carcasses of beasts, the panicked retreat of imperial soldiers, and the chaos engulfing their ranks.


    [Wow~!] Marcus roared in exhilaration, unable to contain his excitement. His usual gentle demeanor was replaced by an unrelenting ferocity as he reveled in the battle. Even the membranes of his face flared open with excitement.


    To keep him grounded, Michael gently patted Marcus''s neck. "Hold on, Marcus. You''ll get your chance to unleash everything soon. Just wait a little longer."


    Michael placed a hand on his ancient god''s earring, an artifact he had acquired from the underground temple. It emitted a faint glow, responding to his touch. The matching earring was held by his father, Viscount Dominic.


    "Father, lead the knights and cavalry to strike the imperial forces. I''ll join you shortly," Michael instructed.


    Hearing his son''s voice through the artifact, Dominic inhaled deeply. With a firm gesture, he rallied the waiting cavalry.


    "Now is our chance! The enemy is in disarray! Soldiers, seize this moment and break through their lines!"


    At his signal, Sir Ronald led the family''s cavalry into the fray. Behind them, the infantry of the First Corps followed, gripping their weapons tightly as they charged.


    The imperial forces were swept away by the storm like advance. S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Watching the battlefield from above, Michael gave Marcus a new command.


    "Get ready, Marcus. Let''s tear through them," Michael commanded.


    Marcus responded with a powerful flap of his wings, breaking through the clouds and diving sharply toward the battlefield. His descent was like a crimson bolt of lightning striking the earth. The gargoyles, having eliminated the griffins and wyverns, followed closely behind. Miaomiao, who had been destroying siege ballistae, spread her wings and soared into the sky.


    [Michael! All the ballistae are destroyed. What should I do now?]


    Michael laughed heartily. "Now, everyone, assist the soldiers at the struggling points. Use your judgment for attacks. Be swift but cautious. Understood?"


    With cheers of acknowledgment, they dispersed across the battlefield.


    The creatures of war, inherently aggressive, charged into the fray. The gargoyles and Miaomiao were no exception.


    A formidable Hydra, a fourth tier beast with nine venomous heads dripping greenish poison, lunged at Miaomiao. Having identified her as the culprit behind the destruction of their ballistae, the Hydra sought vengeance.


    Unfazed, Miaomiao deftly dodged the attack and extended her claws.


    [How dare you! You insolent snake!]


    The Hydra hesitated, its nine heads recoiling instinctively. But Miaomiao''s speed outmatched their reaction. With a single, lethal swipe of her claws, all nine heads were severed simultaneously.


    The Hydra''s vaunted regeneration ability was useless without at least one head intact. Its decapitated body writhed and convulsed, but the battle was already over.


    Nearby soldiers scattered to avoid the splattering venom, casting wary, reverent gazes at Miaomiao. She casually flicked the blood off her claws before lunging at the soldiers, beginning a one sided slaughter.


    Unlike other beasts, which instinctively sought opponents of similar strength, Miaomiao fought cunningly. She targeted knights first, systematically eliminating as many soldiers as possible. Her calculated rampage left a trail of devastation across the battlefield.


    Her usual playful demeanor was nowhere to be found; she fought with cold precision, prioritizing Michael''s mission to kill as many enemies as possible. War demanded death¡ªbetter the enemy than their own forces.


    Meanwhile, the gargoyles spread out to aid endangered allies. One spotted Sir Lancaster, isolated and dismounted from his horse. A massive tribal warrior was bearing down on him with relentless attacks.


    Lancaster struggled to block the warrior''s axe but was losing ground due to his injured leg. Seeing this, the gargoyle swooped in to help.


    The warrior, too focused on his assault, failed to notice the gargoyle''s approach. In a flash, the gargoyle''s claws closed around the warrior''s head.


    "Arrgh!" The startled warrior screamed, dropping his axe as he was dragged into the sky. Moments later, his long scream ended with a sickening thud as his lifeless body crashed to the ground.


    Sir Lancaster, still panting from exertion, watched his attacker reduced to a bloody pulp and exhaled in relief. His heart pounded in his chest as the gargoyle returned to carefully carry him to safety.


    "Thank you¡­ Truly, thank you," Lancaster said.


    The gargoyle turned its head, revealing a sharp toothed grin. [Think nothing of it.]


    Meanwhile, Michael dominated the battlefield, loosing arrow after arrow with lethal precision. Each shot claimed an important target, striking fear into the enemy''s ranks.


    Marcus rampaged across the battlefield, unleashing flames and swinging his massive tail with destructive force. Unlike Michael''s calculated strikes, Marcus''s attacks were indiscriminate, mowing down entire groups of soldiers. The sheer ferocity of his assault sent the Pamir soldiers fleeing in terror.

 Chapter 144 - 144 Flawless Victory

    Doric, the Pamir Empire''s commanding general, trembled with rage. His face flushed red as he shouted, "Coward! Ordering a dragon to massacre my men¡ªhave you no honor as a knight?"


    A veteran tribal chief and warrior for over fifty years, Doric''s voice carried across the battlefield.


    Michael sneered in response. "Honor? In war, it''s results that matter, not honor."


    Without hesitation, Michael drew his bow and aimed at Doric. He had been searching for the general''s location, and now Doric had revealed himself.


    Before Doric could react, an arrow struck him square in the forehead. His eyes widened in shock as he toppled from his horse, lifeless.


    The startled horse reared back with a loud whinny as Doric''s body hit the ground, raising a cloud of dust. His death was sudden and futile.


    "Chief! How could this happen?"


    "Father!"


    Michael watched coldly as warriors rushed toward Doric''s fallen body. He nocked another arrow and loosed it at the grieving soldiers. One by one, they fell, unable even to scream.


    The battlefield fell into an eerie silence. The wailing stopped, and no one dared move, even as their comrades lay dead around them.


    Sensing victory, Michael raised his voice, letting it carry across the battlefield. sea??h th§× N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "I am Michael von Crassus, commander of the First Corps of the Kingdom of Lania. The commanding general of the Pamir Empire''s forces is dead¡ªkilled by my hand. I repeat, the Pamir Empire''s general is dead. Surrender now!"


    His declaration, carried by the wind, struck the enemy troops already consumed by chaos and fear. The cavalry under the Crassus banner intensified their assault, trampling over the disheartened soldiers.


    One by one, the Pamir soldiers dropped their weapons and fell to the ground, their faces etched with despair and exhaustion.


    With their siege engines destroyed, their beasts slain, and their leaders picked off by unseen arrows, resistance became meaningless.


    The battlefield grew quiet. The once fearsome Pamir army, which had charged toward the fortress with such confidence, now surrendered en masse.


    Michael dismounted from Marcus, dust trailing behind him. A standard bearer approached and knelt before him, offering a flag emblazoned with the image of a roaring sphinx and dragon.


    Taking the flag, Michael marched to the center of the battlefield and drove it firmly into the ground.


    A gust of wind unfurled the banner, its bold colors catching the light of the setting sun.


    The air filled with a triumphant roar of cheers.


    It was a flawless victory.


    The first victory against the Pamir Empire''s invasion brought joy to both Elonia and Lania.


    King Henry III of Elonia received the news of the triumph at the royal palace. Letting out a deep sigh of relief, he wiped tears from his eyes. For the first time, it felt as though the kingdom had taken a step back from the brink of ruin. A sense of joy replaced the heavy burden on his face.


    The queen, who had been abstaining from food and drink since sending her daughters to the frontlines with the grim task of seducing Prince Randolph, finally rose from her bed. The princesses had departed with the resolve to sacrifice their dignity to save their imperiled country.


    However, with such a significant victory, there was no longer any need for such desperate measures. Instead of rushing to use such drastic tactics, there was now a foundation for a more gradual approach. The queen began drafting a letter to the eldest princess, Elise, to inform her of the change in circumstances.


    Meanwhile, the Kingdom of Lania also celebrated. Although they had initially planned only nominal participation in the war, the victory was nonetheless an opportunity to claim credit¡ªa welcome prospect for all.


    King Charles V of Lania entered the council chamber with a broad smile, holding the victorious report in hand. Nobles already assembled offered their congratulations as the king strode in.


    The one most recognized as the hero of the victory was Michael, who had led the charge to success. Charles V, too, joined the nobles in heaping praise on Michael, delighted by how this achievement could further bolster Prince Randolph''s reputation.


    "Michael''s contributions to this victory are unparalleled," the king declared. "Randolph met him near the Elonian border and spoke highly of his exceptional talents."


    The king''s intentions were clear, and the ministers quickly followed suit, showering the crown prince with praise.


    One noble remarked, "No matter how talented an individual may be, it''s useless without someone to recognize and promote them. This victory is thanks to His Highness''s keen eye for talent."


    Another added, "Indeed, Your Majesty. It''s said that His Highness elevated Michael from a mere commander to a baron and entrusted him with leading the First Corps. Such discernment is a blessing for the kingdom."


    Pleased with the reactions, Charles V beamed. Sending the crown prince to the frontlines to gain experience had proven to be a wise decision. If things continued as they were, there would be little more to wish for.


    Elonia sent its princesses and crown prince to celebrate Lania''s victory, a gesture that could be considered the highest level of hospitality during wartime.


    A grand banquet was held in the fortress hall under the pretense of honoring the soldiers who had defended the frontlines. While the pretext was plausible, the keen observers in attendance were quick to discern Elonia''s true intentions.


    The extravagance of the banquet was excessive, considering Elonia''s dire circumstances. Golden chandeliers bathed the hall in radiant light, dancers and dwarven performers entertained the guests, and the atmosphere was more akin to a peacetime celebration than a hasty wartime gathering.


    The highlight of the evening came with the arrival of the princesses, who entered the hall impeccably dressed to emphasize their unique charms. Although the Elonian crown prince accompanied them, he remained in the background, allowing the princesses to take center stage.


    The sudden appearance of the princesses caused a stir among the attendees. Conversations ceased as all eyes turned to admire their elegant figures.

 Chapter 145 - 145 Victory Banquet

    While it would have been sufficient to send only the crown prince to congratulate Lania, bringing along two princesses adorned so exquisitely spoke volumes about Elonia''s intentions. Throughout the hall, knowing smiles spread among those who grasped the political underpinnings of the spectacle. S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Both princesses were stunning, but it was the eldest, Princess Elise, who truly shone. Her radiant smile seemed to transform the very air around her.


    "She''s truly breathtaking. The Elonian royal family is famed for its beauty, but seeing it in person is something else entirely," one noble murmured, unable to take his eyes off Elise.


    "Even with this victory, the war is far from over. Why would the princesses come here?" another asked, his tone laced with confusion.


    "Shh, keep your voice down," his companion replied with a sly smile. "Isn''t it obvious?"


    Elonia had undoubtedly sent the princesses to capture Prince Randolph''s attention. The lavish banquet was not merely a celebration but an extension of political maneuvering.


    Princess Elise, unfazed by the attention, gracefully approached Prince Randolph. Lifting the hem of her dress in a formal greeting, she spoke with a warm smile.


    "It is an honor to meet the radiant sun of Lania, Prince Randolph. All the people of Elonia offer their deepest respects for your magnificent victory."


    "It''s a pleasure to see you again, Princess Elise. I recall meeting you at a banquet several years ago," Randolph replied.


    "I was very young back then," Elise said with a playful smile.


    "Indeed. Much time has passed since," Randolph agreed.


    Standing behind the prince, Michael deliberately kept his distance. As the central figure in the victory, his position had elevated dramatically, and he was careful not to invite any misunderstandings. Fortunately, the princesses had no interest in him, focusing their attention entirely on Prince Randolph.


    Princess Elise, at a marriageable age, deployed all her charm. She wore a rose-hued gown embroidered with gold thread and a ruby-encrusted crown, accentuating her dazzling beauty. If Lania''s Princess Astrid was the epitome of innocence, Elise radiated allure and playfulness.


    A pearl necklace sparkled between her delicate collarbones, resting just above her ample bosom. When she lifted her fan with a smile, she resembled a blooming rose.


    "You''ve grown truly stunning. Would you honor me with a dance?" Randolph asked.


    Smiling sweetly, Elise accepted, taking Randolph''s hand and moving to the center of the hall. Their graceful dance captivated the audience, as if they were watching a painting come to life.


    Whatever words they exchanged during the dance, they left Elise laughing as she playfully tapped Randolph''s chest with her hand. Her lighthearted gesture brought a broad smile to the prince''s face.


    Even after the dance ended, their conversation continued. Elise listened intently, her sparkling eyes reflecting curiosity and understanding. Occasionally, she posed sharp questions that caught Randolph off guard or offered subtle smiles that stoked his competitive spirit.


    Her strategy wasn''t to agree with everything Randolph said but to display her intellect while subtly enticing him. Observing her deft handling of the prince, Michael couldn''t help but marvel at her skill.


    Charlotte, the second princess, wore a sapphire-studded crown and a blue gown embroidered with silver thread, her long hair braided elegantly down her back. Unlike her elder sister, Elise, who actively engaged Prince Randolph, Charlotte appeared indifferent.


    Perhaps it was her youth¡ªher face still bore traces of baby fat, giving her a childlike appearance. Occasionally, she covered her mouth with a fan to stifle a yawn, her disinterest evident. She seemed content to play a supporting role, allowing her elder sister to take the lead in capturing Randolph''s attention.


    Randolph, standing between the radiant princesses, seemed utterly captivated. His expression of pure happiness left Michael inwardly sighing.


    The crown prince''s vulnerability to beauty suggested the rumors of his sheltered upbringing were true. He had no defenses against such charms and was already completely entranced by Princess Elise.


    Michael felt a wave of frustration but quickly dismissed it. If Randolph was willingly falling into this trap, what right did Michael have to intervene?


    While Prince Randolph was engrossed in his growing rapport with Princess Elise, the military leadership convened for a meeting.


    The generals from Elonia entered the room with grim expressions, the tension palpable. Despite the overwhelming success of the first battle, there were still many challenges ahead.


    The vast plains that brought Elonia prosperity were a significant weakness in wartime. Michael couldn''t help but lament the fall of the Dolce defensive line.


    Had the defenses nestled among the foothills of the Draco Mountains held, military operations would have been far easier. Now, only a few fortresses scattered across the plains remained to stand against the enemy.


    The generals grappled with mixed emotions¡ªwhether to blame Elonia''s incompetence for losing such a crucial line or to admire the strength of the Pamir Empire''s forces. The Pamir soldiers'' overwhelming numbers and exceptional cavalry rendered Elonia''s flat defenses nearly useless.


    Elonia''s generals looked visibly uncomfortable, some even embarrassed. Michael steadied himself.


    There was no point in dwelling on the past. What was lost could be reclaimed, and the remaining fortresses needed to be used for flexible defense strategies.


    Surveying the room, Michael spoke calmly, his presence commanding attention. Having led the first battle to victory, he was now treated with the deference of a de facto commander.


    "The loss of the Dolce defensive line is regrettable, but the war has only just begun. Let''s focus on developing new defensive strategies."


    Some generals bristled, but Michael paid them no mind. His reputation as the master of a sphinx and dragon, a prodigious swordsman, and an unmatched marksman preceded him. Furthermore, Prince Randolph''s open support for Michael during the previous night''s banquet lent additional weight to his words.


    Michael continued, his tone conciliatory. "I''d like to hear your insights. If anyone has ideas for strategies, please share them."


    His genuine demeanor softened the generals'' initial reluctance, and they began exchanging ideas.


    The room regained its energy as Count Demonic, one of Elonia''s most renowned strategists, spoke up.


    "We must neutralize the mobility of their forces on the plains. Most of the Pamir warriors move on horseback. How about setting traps throughout the plains?"

 Chapter 146 - 146 Arrival Of Reinforcements From Other Regions

    The suggestion garnered nods of agreement. Until now, Elonia had avoided venturing onto the plains out of fear of enemy attacks. However, having regained control of the area near the fortresses, implementing traps seemed feasible.


    General Louis of Lania added his thoughts. "We could dig deep pits and camouflage them with grass or embed spikes in the ground to injure their horses. These methods would effectively slow them down."


    Another general proposed, "For better defense, we could construct mobile barricades."


    The ideas seemed sound. Michael nodded in agreement and presented his plan.


    "All of these strategies are worth pursuing. Additionally, I propose using the remaining fortresses as bases to disrupt the enemy''s movements. We could form special task forces to conduct guerrilla raids and cut off their supply lines."


    The concept of a special operations unit, a modern military strategy, captivated the generals.


    "These task forces would consist of highly mobile elite soldiers capable of penetrating enemy lines. Generals, please select capable knights and soldiers from your ranks and assemble them at the fortress training grounds this afternoon," Michael instructed.


    He met the eyes of those present as he continued. "While strength is important, adaptability is crucial for this mission. Since the operations will require high levels of autonomy, I ask that you choose your candidates carefully."


    After emphasizing the importance of selecting suitable personnel, Michael turned to the subject of traps.


    "We''ll have mages handle the installation of traps. These won''t merely impede the enemy but will also predict and manipulate their movements."


    He concluded by stressing the importance of collaboration. "We''ll need the help of soldiers familiar with the terrain. By combining the knowledge of local soldiers with the expertise of mages, we can maximize the effectiveness of our traps."


    The meeting continued in earnest. Although the crown princes of various kingdoms were absent, their absence was inconsequential. They were symbolic figures at best, offering little to the actual war effort.


    The thought of Randolph lingered in Michael''s mind, stirring unease. If Randolph succumbed to Elonia''s tactics, the political ramifications could become complex.


    Still, Michael shook off his concerns. Such matters were for Charles V and the queen to worry about, not him. His priority was securing victories on the battlefield.


    If the war dragged on, bringing him more opportunities to achieve merit, there would be no downside to that.


    After the meeting, the commanders and officers gathered for a meal. In the spirit of conserving supplies, the buffet featured repurposed dishes from the previous night''s banquet.


    Michael selected a plate of honey-glazed ham and took a seat. As the savory sweetness coated his palate, a burly middle-aged man approached and sat across from him.


    It was Count Demonic, a general from the Kingdom of Elonia. He greeted Michael with a broad smile.


    "Does Elonia''s cuisine suit your taste?"


    "Yes, it''s excellent. Thank you for the meal," Michael replied, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.


    Count Demonic waved dismissively at Michael''s formal manners. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "No need for such formality. You''re the true hero of this victory, and while it''s not official yet, you''re practically our supreme commander already."


    Michael offered a modest smile and a slight bow. Humility, regardless of rank, was a trait that only benefited him.


    "You flatter me. I still lack experience and will need much guidance."


    He avoided outright denying the possibility of assuming command. While maintaining humility, Michael ensured his position remained secure.


    Count Demonic chuckled and took a sip of wine. "I''m sure you''ve heard that our kingdom plans to grant titles and land to those who lead the frontlines to victory?"


    "Of course. But I understand that it''s premature to discuss such matters when the war isn''t over yet," Michael replied, his tone firm.


    There was no reason to entertain talk of accepting a title from Elonia at this stage. Doing so might only create unnecessary complications and expose him to political vulnerabilities.


    "I see what you mean. Don''t worry, I wasn''t trying to pressure you," Count Demonic said with a friendly laugh before leaning closer and lowering his voice. "But tell me¡­ Do you have a lady you''re promised to?"


    Michael stifled a sigh, immediately recognizing the Count''s true motive.


    "Ha, my marriage is a matter for my father and grandfather to decide. I have no say in it," he replied with a polite smile.


    "A young man like you must have a type, though?" the Count pressed.


    Michael kept his composure. "I''m quite traditional. I leave such decisions to my family. Personal preferences have no place in such matters."


    Realizing his persistence was futile, the Count clicked his tongue in disappointment. He had hoped to secure a promising son-in-law with a bright future but found Michael unyielding. Most men would have at least humored the conversation, but Michael allowed no room for negotiation.


    As Michael continued enjoying his meal, the discussion shifted to lighter topics, particularly regarding military strategy. For a fleeting moment, the image of Princess Astrid crossed his mind. Probably because she''s the only woman I really know, he thought, dismissing the notion.


    Two days passed as soldiers worked tirelessly to set traps across the plains and construct mobile barricades. Reinforcements from other regions began to trickle in, bolstering Elonia''s forces.


    However, the reinforcements failed to impress. Elonia''s soldiers, accustomed to Michael''s elite troops, found the new arrivals underwhelming.


    Meanwhile, Prince Randolph inexplicably insisted on inspecting the entire army. His demands left General Louis and Duke Capone scrambling to dissuade him.


    "Your Highness, not all units have fully assembled, and the plains are riddled with traps. If the troops march out now, they might damage the traps we just laid," Duke Capone explained carefully, trying to calm the prince.


    General Louis interjected, "No noble would support such a proposal under these circumstances."


    Prince Randolph''s eyes flared with indignation, interpreting the general''s words as a slight against his authority. Duke Capone shot a glare at the tactless general.


    Great, just when I was soothing him, you pour oil on the fire.


    Duke Capone hastily added, "Please, Your Highness, don''t be upset. This isn''t a matter of ignoring your orders. The nobles who brought their troops here have their own rights and responsibilities. Forcing an inspection without sufficient reason could be seen as an insult."

 Chapter 147 - 147 The Troublesome Future King

    Prince Randolph gritted his teeth in frustration. His father had often expressed exasperation over dealing with the nobles, and Randolph was beginning to understand why.


    "They send urgent reports from the frontlines, claiming that defensive lines are falling. Morale is already low, and showing our strength would reassure our soldiers and intimidate the enemy. It''s not as if I''m asking for a battle¡ªjust a show of might to deter the reinforcements of the Pamir Empire," Randolph argued.


    Watching the exchange from a distance, Michael felt a pang of disbelief. The prince seemed more interested in posturing than preparing for the enemy. Such actions could provoke even greater opposition, especially considering the Pamir Empire''s reliance on overwhelming numbers.


    It was clear to Michael that Randolph''s true motivation was to impress Princess Elise. Randolph''s frustration only deepened as he recalled Elise''s melancholy smile, her sadness over her inability to directly aid her country. He wanted to ease her worries, but the resistance from the nobles infuriated him.


    Turning abruptly, Randolph addressed Michael. "What about you, Sir Michael? Do you also find my proposal unwise?"


    Caught off guard, Michael quickly composed himself.


    "Your Highness, a parade of our forces could indeed bolster morale. However, I suggest one condition: for your safety, you should remain within the fortress. Your well-being is more critical to us than any display of military strength."


    With this, Michael deftly balanced the prince''s pride while subtly thwarting his plan. Randolph''s desire for a spectacle was evident, but Michael managed to elevate him in the eyes of his subordinates without allowing him to act recklessly.


    Duke Capone and General Louis exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the deftness of Michael''s words.


    Such command over words rivals his military prowess. We are witnessing the rise of a new star while our influence wanes.


    Prince Randolph, still flustered, pressed the matter. "Are you saying I shouldn''t lead the army in a review?"


    Without such a display, the prince felt his intentions would be meaningless. Noticing his expression, Michael seized the opportunity to solidify his position.


    "With all due respect, Your Highness, I fear the current state of our troops might not withstand the strain of such an inspection. While the northeastern forces are well-trained due to repeated skirmishes, I cannot say the same for the others. Given the situation, the risk of an incident is simply too great. For now, it would be unwise for Your Highness to personally oversee them," Michael said, shaking his head as if pained by the reality.


    Randolph paused, his pride wounded but his reason slowly catching up. He cleared his throat in an attempt to recover his composure.


    "Hmm, I see. You make a valid point. That being said¡­ Sir Michael, your forces are exemplary. Perhaps we could train the others to reach a similar standard?"


    Michael had to summon every ounce of patience from both his past and present lives to hold his tongue. The prince''s request struck a nerve.


    Train them? Train them?!


    His mind raced with frustration. What makes you think training other nobles'' troops would turn them into mine? Why should I bear the burden of training someone else''s soldiers?


    The First Corps under Michael''s command was composed of knights sworn to the Crassus family, alongside their handpicked men. Nobles guarded their training methods fiercely, passing them down within their lineage to maintain power. For Randolph to suggest such an overreach was nothing short of appalling.


    Before Michael''s tight-lipped smile could fully falter, Duke Capone stepped in.


    "Your Highness, such a proposal is unlikely to be well-received. Training one''s soldiers is a noble''s privilege, entirely separate from following commands during wartime," the duke explained diplomatically.


    Randolph''s irritation was evident.


    Useless, selfish nobles! he thought bitterly. Once I ascend to the throne, I''ll rid the kingdom of those who lack the vision to serve the greater good.


    Michael watched Randolph closely, quickly realizing that the prince''s frustrations stemmed from more than naivety.


    It''s not a lack of education¡ªit''s an excess of it.


    Having witnessed King Charles V''s struggles against the entrenched power of the nobility, Randolph had developed a disdain for feudal limitations. As a future monarch, his desire for absolute authority was understandable, but to Michael, a noble himself, it was unsettling. The political climate under Randolph''s rule would need careful observation. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Randolph finally relented with a tight smile. "Very well. I appreciate your concern for my safety, Sir Michael. It seems only you truly understand the value of our kingdom''s strength."


    His tone softened, and his gaze toward Michael grew more favorable.


    Duke Capone silently sighed in relief, thankful that the tension had subsided. Outwardly, he smiled, but inwardly, Michael''s concerns lingered.


    This man, so ambitious and arrogant, yet lacking the substance to match his aspirations, will someday be king¡­ The challenges ahead are already clear.


    The next day, Prince Randolph seemed to have regained his spirits. A red ribbon tied around his wrist, gifted by Princess Elise, fluttered with his every movement. He frequently touched it, a satisfied smile on his face.


    The sight was enough to confirm that Elonia''s efforts had not been in vain.


    Meanwhile, Michael''s mood had also lifted. The rewards sent by Elonia for his recent victory had arrived, exceeding expectations.


    Having subtly hinted at his preferences through Count Demonic, the rewards came mostly in the form of material goods: chests of gold and jewels, fine weaponry, armor, and even warhorses.


    Michael distributed the rewards generously. The warhorses went to Sir Lancaster and other knights who had lost their steeds in battle. Additional treasures were shared among his men, ensuring their satisfaction.


    When heavy pouches of gold reached the hands of the knights, their faces lit with gratitude. Michael knew well the importance of rewarding loyalty.


    "Rest assured, this is only the beginning," Michael said. "For those who continue to follow the Crassus family, there will be ample rewards once the war concludes. Titles and lands await the deserving. Fight well, and you will not be disappointed."


    His words sparked eager determination in the knights, many of whom lacked substantial landholdings. Even those with existing estates perked up at the prospect of fertile Elonian lands.

 Chapter 148 - 148 Target

    After dismissing the knights, Michael allowed himself a moment of reprieve. He glanced at Marcus, who slyly pocketed a few jewels from the stash. Pretending not to notice, Michael focused on refining his strategies.


    His thoughts were interrupted when his squire, Alex, entered hurriedly.


    "Sir, Lady Miaomia and the gargoyles have returned."


    Michael''s elite reconnaissance team, composed of the shapeshifting Miaomia and the gargoyles, had been scouting the plains. Their versatility made them ideal for the task.


    Miaomia, upon entering, immediately flopped onto the floor in a show of exaggerated exhaustion.


    "Did the mission go well?" Michael asked, hiding his amusement.


    [Exhausted. They''re faster than I expected. But as you suspected, they''re moving in tribal units. I''ve marked their general locations. We focused on tracking supply routes, as you requested.]


    Michael nodded, satisfied. His prediction about their mobility and tactics had been accurate. Soon, they would regret splitting into smaller units.


    Taking the scrolls brought back by the reconnaissance team, Michael headed to the secret training ground where the special task force was drilling.


    The task force was composed of knights chosen by the nobility of Elonia and Lania. Most were either direct descendants of noble families or closely related to knights.


    This arrangement reflected the nobles'' desire to avoid placing all their heirs in one place. While eldest sons remained with their families to defend the main frontlines, younger sons were sent to join the task force and operate in the plains.


    It was a calculated move to prevent the catastrophic loss of all heirs in a single battle.


    As Michael arrived at the training ground, the exhausted knights sprang to their feet, snapping to attention.


    "The devil has arrived!" someone muttered under their breath, but Michael ignored it, his mind focused on the battle to come.


    Louis, the youngest son of Count Charles, had volunteered for the special task force. He was acutely aware of how his life had been shielded under his father''s protection. For the first time, he wanted to step out from that shelter and achieve something on his own.


    Thankfully, his efforts had not been in vain, as he was selected to join the special unit. The selection process had been grueling, but it brought with it a sense of accomplishment. Among the chosen, Louis recognized many familiar faces¡ªyoung nobles like himself, sharing similar privileged backgrounds.


    This was true even for those from Elonia. Aside from the knights Michael had personally brought, most of the members were scions of prominent families. These young men and women, not yet fully seasoned, were ready to risk their lives to prove their worth.


    Count Charles visited the training ground to congratulate his son. Seeing the task force composed of esteemed noble offspring reassured him. With such distinguished members, there was little risk of them being treated as expendable.


    These recruits were not just noble by birth but also skilled and talented. While the nature of their missions carried inherent danger, it seemed unlikely they would meet senseless deaths. Moreover, with Michael personally leading the unit, their chances of survival increased significantly.


    Michael''s reputation as a competent commander, coupled with the proven skill of the knights he had brought, gave Count Charles further peace of mind.


    However, Louis''s training quickly turned into a harsh reality. The charismatic and approachable Michael seemed to vanish, replaced by a merciless commander. Training sessions were grueling beyond imagination, testing both body and mind to their breaking point.


    For Louis, the physical and mental agony was unlike anything he had ever endured. Compared to this, his past training felt like child''s play.


    Watching his youngest son, covered in sweat and dirt, struggling through the exercises, Count Charles couldn''t help but feel a pang of sorrow. Eventually, he approached Michael to voice his concerns.


    "Sir Michael, the training seems excessively harsh. As you know, these young men are inexperienced. Couldn''t the training be moderated somewhat?"


    Michael''s response was cold and firm.


    "Count Charles, the special task force will be deployed on the most dangerous and critical missions. Those who can''t survive the training won''t survive on the battlefield. Regardless of rank or status, this rigorous training will continue. If you''re concerned, I suggest withdrawing your son. This is a war, not a picnic."


    Count Charles''s face hardened as he fell into a heavy silence. To pull Louis out now would be a disgrace, one that neither of them could live down.


    Resolving to support his son''s decision, he stepped back and left the training to continue.


    The grueling training finally ended, and the recruits sprawled across the training ground, utterly exhausted. Their bodies were covered in sweat and dirt, and their muscles were strained to their limits.


    Some exchanged lighthearted jokes, but most remained silent, catching their breath.


    When Michael appeared, the atmosphere instantly shifted. The recruits scrambled to their feet, the air growing heavy with tension.


    Holding a scroll containing intelligence gathered by Miaomiao and the gargoyles, Michael addressed the group.


    "Our target is the rearmost unit of the Pamir Empire''s forces," he announced in a low, commanding voice.


    "The nearest target is located 200 kilometers ahead. Their numbers are approximately 2,000, though we haven''t identified their tribe. Judging by their discipline, they won''t be an easy opponent. Tonight, we''ll launch a surprise attack. Stay alert!"


    A palpable tension spread among the recruits as they processed Michael''s words. Louis took a deep breath, replaying the instructions in his mind.


    One of the knights hesitated before raising a hand. His voice betrayed a mix of anxiety and curiosity.


    "Why target the rearmost unit? Is it a supply unit? Wouldn''t it make more sense to strike the closest advancing force to halt their progress?"


    Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group. Michael surveyed the knights calmly before responding.


    "Attacking the nearest advancing unit might seem logical, but it would also expose us. If the advancing tribes find their comrades annihilated, they''ll be on high alert."


    He paused, meeting the eyes of the questioning knight and others. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Our goal isn''t to annihilate the Empire''s forces entirely but to disrupt their supply lines and diminish their numbers. Do you understand?"


    The knights nodded in agreement, the reasoning clear.

 Chapter 149 - 149 The Birth of a legend

    The young, inexperienced recruits couldn''t hide their nervousness, while Michael''s seasoned knights exuded calm confidence. Many of them had initially joined to claim Marcus''s bloodline, only to find themselves under Michael''s command. Though they had entered reluctantly, the accolades they earned in battle made them active participants.


    With their participation, there was no shortage of aerial mounts for this mission.


    Mounting Marcus, Michael led the way. The recruits followed, each boarding their assigned mounts.


    As the creatures'' wings unfurled and began to beat, Michael gave the command.


    "Let''s go, Marcus!"


    Marcus took to the sky with a powerful leap, and the other mounts followed in formation.


    Louis felt the ground recede beneath him and gripped the reins tightly. The chimera lent to him by his father offered words of reassurance.


    [Don''t be too nervous. You''ll be fine.]


    The first mission of the elite task force, composed entirely of handpicked soldiers, was underway.


    Hidden in the cover of night, Michael and the task force soared undetected, thanks to the concealment magic cast by Miaomiao. Even if someone on the ground looked up, they would see nothing but shadows darker than usual.


    Below, the Pamir Empire''s forces had set up camp on the plains. The air was filled with the sounds of raucous laughter, singing, and the clinking of glasses as the soldiers feasted on meat and drank freely.


    The knights, observing the lively scene from above, felt their nerves tighten.


    Michael, silent among the darkened skies, studied the enemy camp intently. Though the details were obscured by the night, the size and layout of the encampment indicated that this was no ordinary force.


    From the number of horses alone, it was clear that over half of the 2,000-strong unit were warriors, a testament to their strength.


    His sharp gaze swept across the enemy lines, and with calculated calm, he issued his next command.


    Michael stood tall, addressing the special task force assembled before him. His voice carried authority, cutting through the tension in the air.


    "Marcus, the First Battalion, and I will lead the initial assault. The Second and Third Battalions will encircle the area, ensuring no one escapes. We can''t afford to let a single one of them survive. Only then can we continue these ambushes without raising their alarm. Understood?"


    The knights listened intently, determination flashing in their eyes.


    As the night veiled their movements, the ambush began. With a smaller force against a larger enemy, their attack needed to be swift and overwhelming.


    Marcus unleashed a torrent of flames upon the enemy camp, lighting up the night sky with a crimson glow. The fire spread rapidly, consuming the tents and supplies.


    Inside one of the burning tents, Ihar, the Black Hawk Tribe''s chieftain, was jolted awake by the frantic voice of one of his trusted warriors.


    "Chieftain! Wake up! A dragon is attacking the camp from the skies!"


    Still groggy from sleep, Ihar pushed aside his blanket and stepped outside. The sight that greeted him was chaos: flames engulfing the camp, soldiers running in panic, and horses whinnying in terror.


    Wasting no time, Ihar grabbed his axe and barked orders at a young soldier frozen in place.


    "Pull yourself together! Find your unit and regroup! Abandon the burning tents and focus on escaping. We''ll reorganize later!"


    While it pained him to leave their supplies behind, Ihar''s quick decision reflected his leadership. With his bodyguards, he began navigating through the flames to escape. sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Unfortunately, he faced an opponent far superior.


    From above, Michael spotted the fleeing group and drew his enchanted bow. He relished the weapon''s efficiency, needing no arrows as each shot materialized on command.


    Taking a deep breath, he loosed an arrow. The sharp twang of the bowstring was followed by a piercing sound as the arrow struck true.


    Ihar looked down, confused. A glowing arrow was embedded in his chest. It disintegrated into light moments later, but the wound remained. Before he could process what had happened, he collapsed.


    Seeing their chieftain fall, his warriors panicked. Chaos spread as they were picked off one by one by Michael''s relentless arrows.


    The knights cheered at the sight of Michael''s precision.


    "Truly a divine marksman!"


    "Let''s not lag behind! Kill any who try to escape!"


    The knights, mounted on their beasts, formed a perimeter around the camp. Warriors who attempted to escape the flames met their end at the hands of the knights.


    Michael, ever cautious, reminded them not to be reckless.


    "Don''t rush into the flames to claim glory! Target only those emerging from the fire."


    Following his orders, the knights avoided unnecessary risks, focusing on eliminating fleeing enemies.


    With Ihar and his bodyguards neutralized, Michael ascended on Marcus''s back to survey the battlefield. Below, the scene was a hellscape of fire and death.


    He tasked Miaomiao with further reconnaissance.


    "Miaomiao, scout the perimeter. Ensure no one escapes to warn other tribes."


    [Understood,] she replied succinctly, leaping off Michael''s shoulder and taking flight.


    Those who managed to slip past the knights were soon hunted down by Miao and the gargoyles.


    Michael himself continued his deadly vigil from above, loosing arrows with unerring accuracy. The silent, unseen projectiles sowed confusion and terror among the fleeing warriors.


    The Pamir soldiers, unable to see their attackers, succumbed to panic. They tripped over one another, desperate to escape the invisible hunter. In the shadow of death, they were reduced to prey.


    "Excellent work, everyone," Michael murmured to himself, his voice calm yet resolute.


    He took aim at a small group attempting to break through the encirclement, his expression unwavering. Methodically, he shattered their hopes of survival with each precise shot.


    As the battle wore on, the enemy''s desperation grew. Warriors sprinted blindly through the flames or sought refuge in the nearby woods. Their survival instincts varied, but the outcome was always the same: death.


    The knights, following Michael''s instructions, left no stragglers alive.


    When dawn finally broke, the once-fiery battlefield was reduced to smoldering ruins. The air was thick with the stench of smoke and blood.


    Michael dismounted from Marcus and walked through the charred remains of the enemy camp. The aftermath was one of absolute destruction¡ªproof of the night''s ferocity.


    "Roll call," he commanded curtly.


    The battalion leaders quickly assembled their men, calling out their reports.


    "First Battalion! No casualties. Three wounded, none critically!"


    The First Battalion leader''s voice, though fatigued, carried satisfaction.


    "Second Battalion! No casualties or injuries!"


    The announcement drew a collective sigh of relief and a flicker of hope.


    "Third Battalion! Same here¡ªno casualties, two lightly injured!"


    As the final report was delivered, a wave of jubilant cheers erupted among the knights.


    They clapped each other on the shoulders, celebrating their success. Against a force nearly seven times their size, they had achieved the impossible: the enemy was annihilated, and their own suffered no losses.


    The camaraderie born from their grueling training now solidified in victory. Their hearts swelled with pride and relief.


    Above all, their admiration for Michael reached new heights.


    They looked to him with reverence, seeing in him not just a commander but a hero. His tactical brilliance, unwavering leadership, and unmatched combat skills left no doubt in their minds.


    A new legend had been born.

 Chapter 150 - 150 A Stroke of Luck

    With roll call completed, Michael scanned the surroundings, his gaze sharp and calculating.


    "Marcus, take care of it," he said, his voice calm but firm.


    Marcus nodded, stepping forward to unleash a torrent of flames upon the Pamir Empire''s camp. The fire roared to life, devouring everything in its path. The bodies of the fallen were consumed, reduced to ashes in the inferno.


    The early morning mist thickened, blending seamlessly with the concealment magic Miaomiao had cast earlier. This ensured that their operation remained unnoticed.


    "Search the area thoroughly. There may still be survivors," Michael ordered.


    His squad, accompanied by beasts with keen senses of smell, dispersed to comb the area. The once-chaotic battlefield now lay in eerie silence, with only the faint heat of the dissipating flames lingering in the air.


    Before long, a scout returned with a report.


    "We found no signs of life. All enemies appear to have perished."


    Michael narrowed his eyes, his expression contemplative. Miaomiao, perched on his shoulder, whispered softly.


    [The scout''s right. There are no survivors.] S§×arch* The Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Satisfied with the confirmation, Michael mounted Marcus once more.


    "Good. Reform the ranks. We''ll head straight for the next Imperial unit and continue disrupting their supply lines."


    The soldiers nodded, their movements precise as they regrouped. Michael was determined to make the most of their position, targeting as many enemy forces as possible before returning.


    Meanwhile, at Orlando Fortress, good news arrived, spreading relief among the ranks. A direct message to the high command detailed the success of Michael''s special task force. They had accomplished their mission without any casualties.


    Count Charles and the other senior officers of the Lania forces breathed a collective sigh of relief. Many of them had sent their sons to join the special task force, hoping to temper their skills and experience. Despite their confidence in their children''s abilities, worry had lingered in their hearts.


    To hear of such a decisive victory brought immense joy.


    "Their performance has exceeded expectations," Count Charles remarked, his voice tinged with pride.


    General Louis nodded in agreement.


    "With so many inexperienced recruits, I was concerned, but the results speak for themselves."


    The room buzzed with admiration for Michael''s leadership.


    "It seems Sir Michael truly led them splendidly," one officer said.


    "He''s exceeded every expectation," added another.


    "I should have sent my son along as well," joked a third, eliciting laughter from the group.


    Not everyone shared the same enthusiasm. Prince Randolph, who had arrived late to the military meeting after oversleeping, frowned as he listened to the praise being heaped upon Michael.


    Before he could voice his displeasure, Duke Capone approached and informed him of the details.


    "Sir Michael and his special task force successfully eliminated a group of approximately 2,000 enemy soldiers. They achieved this without a single casualty."


    Randolph''s expression darkened. He had been irked since the decision to form the task force was made in his absence. It wasn''t the creation of the unit that bothered him but rather the fact that it had been decided without his input.


    And now, to hear of their success only added salt to the wound.


    "Hmm, so they attacked a scattered rear unit, killing every last one without suffering any losses?" His tone was laced with skepticism.


    The room grew tense. Despite the positive news, the prince''s reaction cast a shadow over the atmosphere.


    General Louis, perplexed by the prince''s response, wondered if his concern stemmed from fears of exaggeration or false claims of glory.


    "Rest assured, Your Highness," Louis said cautiously. "The achievements of Sir Michael and his task force are above reproach. The unit includes many nobles'' children from both Lania and Elonia."


    Randolph''s eyes narrowed as he listened.


    "Achievements?" he scoffed. "Ambushing a slow-moving rear unit and wiping them out¡ªdoes that really count as a significant achievement?"


    His words carried a hint of derision, prompting Duke Capone to step in diplomatically.


    "Your Highness, while it''s possible the accomplishment has been somewhat exaggerated, dismissing it entirely would be unwise. The task force comprises distinguished knights and noble scions. Casting doubt on their success could create unnecessary friction among the aristocracy."


    Though he had spoken candidly earlier, Randolph knew better than to push further. He composed himself and adopted a more amicable tone.


    "My concern isn''t with their current accomplishments," he explained. "I simply wish for them to aim higher. This is only the beginning of their potential, don''t you agree?"


    The tension in the room eased as the nobles laughed, perceiving his words as a sign of encouragement. Randolph smiled faintly, satisfied that he had deflected any suspicion.


    Michael, unaware of the prince''s veiled scrutiny, remained focused on the battlefield. His only priority was to ensure swift and decisive victories.


    Unlike the previous night''s ambush, the daytime operation posed new challenges. Under the bright sun, the effects of concealment magic were diminished, and the enemy would likely maintain a higher state of vigilance.


    The target this time was a larger force¡ª1,000 cavalry and 4,000 infantry, escorting a convoy of supply wagons.


    "What do we know about the tribe ahead?" asked Louis, riding alongside an Elonian knight atop his borrowed chimera.


    Though exhilarated by the previous night''s success, the daylight engagement filled Louis with unease.


    The knight squinted, studying the enemy from a distance.


    "It''s difficult to identify the tribe from this range," he admitted. "But judging by the convoy and their numbers, they''re undoubtedly stronger than the group we faced last night."


    The unease was palpable among the task force, prompting Michael to address them directly.


    "Stay calm," he said firmly.


    His voice carried authority and reassurance.


    "The force ahead is larger, but their banners tell the story. Look closely. Those aren''t the markings of a single tribe¡ªit''s a patchwork of different groups. They lack cohesion and unity."


    The knights looked closer, noticing the varied banners fluttering in the wind. Michael was right.


    "Our primary concern is their cavalry," he continued. "The infantry is disorganized and uncoordinated. For now, wait here. I''ll initiate the attack and signal when it''s time for the rest of you to advance. Understood?"

 Chapter 151 - 151 Battle Concluded

    The knights murmured amongst themselves, their apprehension turning to awe as Michael readied himself.


    "He''s attacking alone?" someone whispered.


    The doubts vanished as Michael mounted Marcus, bow in hand, and descended toward the enemy.


    High above, Michael steadied himself on Marcus''s back, surveying the enemy convoy below. The supply wagons formed the heart of the column, flanked by soldiers on all sides.


    Michael nocked five arrows simultaneously and aimed at the enemy column below. As the bowstring released, the arrows shot through the air with a piercing sound, striking down five targets instantly.


    The precision and speed of his attack left the enemy dumbfounded. Panic spread as soldiers looked around in confusion, searching for the source of the attack. Michael wasted no time, lifting his bow again and unleashing another volley.


    Mounted soldiers fell one after another, unable to react in time. As the assault continued, the front-line warriors raised their shields and sought cover behind the supply wagons, desperately trying to survive.


    Some of the soldiers managed to spot Michael and Marcus high in the sky, but there was little they could do. Their attempts to counterattack only deepened the chaos. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "A dragon rider! He''s attacking from the sky!"


    "The arrows are raining down on us from above!"


    A few archers, at their commander''s frantic orders, tried to fire back at Michael. Their arrows, however, fell short, barely even reaching Marcus.


    "Shoot higher! He can''t have unlimited arrows¡ªwear him down!" shouted the last remaining commander, his voice trembling.


    But even his commands were futile. The disoriented archers, shooting blindly at the sky, quickly exposed their positions. Michael, observing their efforts from above, smirked coldly.


    "You want to duel with a bow? Very well, challenge accepted," he muttered.


    He quickly shifted his aim, targeting the archers who had revealed themselves. One by one, they fell, unable to match his unmatched precision.


    The commander, hiding beneath a supply wagon, barked orders in desperation, but his cowardice only fueled the soldiers'' despair. With their leaders dead or cowering, the soldiers began to flee.


    "Run! He''s a monster¡ªa demon!"


    "Stop! Rally together!" the commander screamed, but his voice no longer reached his troops.


    Michael continued his assault methodically, focusing on mounted enemies first and then targeting heavily armored soldiers. The chaos reached its peak when even the cowardly commander under the wagon was finally silenced by Michael''s arrow.


    With all leadership eliminated, the remaining soldiers were nothing more than disorganized infantry.


    The task force, perched atop their flying beasts, watched the scene unfold with jaws agape.


    "Is he even human?" one knight muttered.


    "What are we witnessing here?"


    Even for seasoned warriors, Michael''s feat was beyond comprehension. To fire hundreds of arrows from the back of a dragon, each finding its mark flawlessly¡ªsuch a thing was unheard of.


    By the time Michael lowered his bow, over 700 enemies lay dead. The knights, unaware of the magical power Michael had absorbed, could only watch in stunned silence.


    Satisfied with the results, Michael gave the signal for the task force to advance. Marcus''s fiery tail lashed through the air, and the knights charged with a roar, their beasts diving toward the panicked enemy.


    Michael watched as his soldiers surged forward, his bow now at rest. The hard part was over¡ªhe had shattered the enemy''s morale. The task force could handle the rest.


    As the knights clashed with the remaining soldiers, Michael directed his attention to any stragglers attempting to flee. Mounted on Marcus, he patrolled the battlefield, picking off escapees with deadly precision.


    Though not as one-sided as the previous night''s ambush, the outcome was just as decisive.


    When the battle concluded, Michael descended from Marcus''s back, surveying the wreckage.


    "Miaomiao, check the perimeter. Make sure no one escaped. Take the other beasts with you," he ordered.


    [Understood,] Miaomiao replied, summoning other beasts to assist in the sweep. The disciplined hierarchy among the beasts was evident as they followed her command without hesitation.


    Meanwhile, Michael and the task force began gathering the fallen soldiers'' bodies into a central area.


    Michael knew better than anyone the dangers of leaving corpses unattended. The risk of disease was high, and in a world filled with magic, there was always the possibility of malevolent spirits or dark entities taking advantage of such remnants.


    "Bring all the bodies here. Ensure none are left scattered. Let''s finish this quickly," he instructed.


    While the soldiers moved the bodies, Michael enlisted a few beasts to dig a massive pit. Their powerful claws made short work of the task.


    [Is this deep enough?] one of the beasts asked.


    "Perfect. Now, toss the bodies in," Michael replied.


    Once the bodies were piled into the pit, Michael turned to Marcus.


    "Burn it," he commanded.


    Marcus unleashed a torrent of flames, reducing the corpses to ash. The fire roared fiercely, its heat and smoke spreading across the plains.


    The task force stood silently, watching the flames consume the remains. The acrid stench of burning flesh filled the air, but no one flinched. They knew this was a necessary step.


    Amidst the carnage, one surprising discovery lifted their spirits. Upon inspecting the enemy''s wagons, the soldiers uncovered a trove of supplies¡ªfood, weapons, and other valuable resources.


    "This is incredible," one soldier exclaimed, his voice tinged with awe. The excitement rippled through the group as they explored the unexpected bounty.


    Michael allowed himself a rare smile.


    "Looks like we got lucky. These supplies will be well-received back at the fortress."


    After ensuring the spoils of war were distributed among the beasts, Michael urged them onward. Marcus, who noticed a golden chest on the back of another beast, let out a sorrowful whimper, but Michael pretended not to notice.


    "Miaomiao," Michael called softly.


    The small creature perched on his shoulder, busily grooming its fur, lazily raised its head. Its bright green eyes met Michael''s.


    "Select a few beasts with keen eyesight and have them scout the surroundings. Cover all directions¡ªnorth, south, east, and west¡ªwithin a 30-kilometer radius," he instructed.


    Letting out a sigh, Miaomiao nodded.


    "Understood, but include this reconnaissance as a special mission and compensate me accordingly," the creature replied telepathically.

 Chapter 152 - 152 The Rock Bear Tribe

    "Of course. All the gold you and Marcus earn is being managed wisely by Zark," Michael reassured.


    With Miaomiao dispatched to lead the reconnaissance, Michael took to the skies with his other comrades. Marcus''s now-familiar wing beats harmonized with the soft wind, creating a soothing rhythm.


    The troops'' faces reflected a mixture of fatigue and joy¡ªan earned pride from their victory using an unprecedented attack strategy. As dozens of beasts flew in a line against the crimson sunset, the sight resembled a magnificent painting.


    Following the success of the Special Task Force''s mission, Michael felt a slight sense of relief. Yet, victory did not grant the luxury of complacency. Suppressing the elation bubbling within, Michael raised his voice to address the group.


    "Do not remove your armor yet, and remain vigilant. The enemies we''ve faced so far were not the Pamir Empire''s main forces. Overconfidence will be our downfall¡ªstay on guard!"


    No sooner had he issued his orders than a laid-back voice chimed in from behind.


    "Sir Michael, don''t you think you''re being overly cautious? Encountering a significant threat here is highly unlikely¡ªunless one of the Five Great Tribes happens to be nearby. Haha!"


    Turning, Michael saw Sir Kevin atop his Hydra, wearing a relaxed smile. A seasoned knight dispatched from the capital to retrieve Marcus''s pure blood, Kevin was known for his nonchalant remarks. His Hydra, too, had been lured into service by promises of a salary¡ªthanks to Marcus and Miaomiao''s sly tactics.


    Michael sighed at Kevin''s cavalier attitude. "Sir Kevin, heed my warning. Regardless of past achievements, death can come in an instant."


    Barely had Michael finished speaking when a griffon swooped in with a rush of powerful wings, its labored breathing signaling urgency. This griffon was one of the scouts sent with Miaomiao.


    "Lady Nefertari has intercepted and killed a Rock Bear Tribe messenger 40 kilometers ahead. According to him, their forces were en route to join the supply unit we annihilated. Upon discovering the destruction of their allies, they have requested reinforcements from another Rock Bear unit. Nefertari advises immediate action, as they await further orders," the griffon reported.


    Hearing this, Michael fixed Kevin with a glare laden with reproach. His earlier flippant comments had now been proven disastrously short-sighted. With their presence exposed, there was no avoiding a confrontation.


    "Everyone, prepare for battle formations!" Michael commanded. As the leader of the Special Task Force, his authority was absolute.


    The troops quickly snapped into action, donning armor and readying their weapons with steely determination. Michael roused Marcus, who was dozing off mid-flight, his wings flapping unconsciously.


    "Wake up, Marcus. The enemy is ahead," Michael said firmly.


    Marcus opened his weary eyes and grumbled, "I''m too tired¡­ Can''t we just avoid them?" S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "No," Michael replied decisively. "They''ve already found traces of us. It''s a Rock Bear Tribe unit meant to reinforce the supply convoy we destroyed. From now on, leave some commanders alive for interrogation."


    The Rock Bear Tribe, one of the Five Great Tribes, was not to be underestimated. Hailing from the desert, they were renowned for their bravery and their warriors'' ability to harness the power of bear spirits. Many could transform into half-beast, half-human forms, and while their full transformations were rare, even their hybrid state made them formidable foes.


    Michael assessed the enemy''s strength. Approximately 3,000 Rock Bear warriors were stationed ahead¡ªsmaller than what might be expected from one of the Five Great Tribes but understandable given their assignment. Resolving to leave no trace of their own forces, Michael led a cautious advance.


    "Keep a 1-kilometer distance between groups and follow me carefully," he instructed.


    With their movements coordinated, the task force approached the enemy under Michael''s command. Marcus, stretching his forelegs to shake off drowsiness, followed the griffon scout. Behind them, dozens of beasts aligned themselves in formation.


    In the distance, the Rock Bear Tribe''s distinctive banner¡ªa black bear on a crimson background¡ªbecame visible. Warriors imbued with the spirits of bears were seen patrolling, their massive forms cloaked in coarse black fur. At nearly three meters tall, their imposing figures struck fear into any observer.


    Fortunately, few among them appeared to have fully merged with their bear spirits¡ªa state reserved for their strongest warriors, comprising only about 10% of their force. Even so, their sheer presence was daunting.


    After completing his reconnaissance, Michael returned to his waiting troops, who had held position a kilometer behind.


    "Up ahead lies a force of roughly 3,000 from the Rock Bear Tribe, one of the Five Great Tribes of the Pamir Empire," he announced, pausing to let the gravity of his words settle.


    "Their numbers may seem small, but this unit was deployed to support the supply convoy we eliminated earlier. If we execute our plan methodically, this victory will be a significant achievement."


    The troops stiffened at the mention of the Rock Bear Tribe, known for their natural strength and courage. Their ability to channel the power of spirits in battle had instilled fear even in seasoned knights. But recalling their recent victories under Michael''s leadership, the soldiers steadied themselves.


    They trusted their commander¡ªand knew that triumph lay in disciplined execution.


    Michael carefully observed the resolute expressions of his troops before continuing.


    "Everyone, stay mounted and conceal yourselves in the surrounding area. Identify the exact path the enemy will take, and establish a perfect encirclement. Once Marcus and I give the signal, launch a coordinated attack immediately. Do not miss the signal. Understood?"


    "Yes, sir!"


    The resounding response echoed with confidence, their eyes burning with determination rather than fear. Satisfied with their readiness, Michael nodded.


    "This battle will be unlike any previous ones. The enemy is elite and possesses extraordinary abilities. In particular, those who have fully transformed into bears wield immense power. Fortunately, their numbers are few. I will personally take care of them. Each of you, carry out your roles from your assigned positions and fight to survive."


    Meanwhile, among the Rock Bear Tribe¡­


    "Commander Sakar, the supply unit we were supposed to meet here appears to have been annihilated. Their goods are gone, and all we found were shattered carts and scattered corpses."


    The unexpected report caused Sakar, an elder with crimson-hued skin, to scowl deeply.

 Chapter 153 - 153 How Dare They!

    "Who dares? We were assured that the forces of the Elonia Kingdom were holed up in their fortress, nowhere in sight! Was it those damn Black Hawk Tribe scouts giving us false information to target us deliberately?"


    Grinding his teeth, Sakar let out a heavy sigh. Though part of the same empire, the tribes were rife with factionalism. The Black Hawk Tribe, known for their cunning and their role as scouts due to their ability to move swiftly on wings, often played their own games. Sakar suspected they might have distorted information to diminish the Rock Bear Tribe''s influence.


    Scanning his surroundings, Sakar felt his anger boiling over. Finally, unable to suppress it any longer, he lashed out.


    "What are you all standing around for? The supply unit was no pushover. If they were wiped out, the enemy must be formidable. Get into formation now! Must I spell everything out for you?"


    Barking orders at his younger kin, Sakar steadied his breathing and began drawing upon the ancestral power of their tribe. His muscles swelled, thick black fur sprouted across his arms, and his jaw elongated into a muzzle lined with razor-sharp teeth. His entire body grew larger as he transformed.


    Fully assuming his bear-like form, Sakar surveyed the area with fierce vigilance. The enemy could strike at any moment.


    "Fools, I warned them to finish this war before Lania Kingdom intervenes¡­" he thought bitterly, suppressing his rage as best he could.


    The transformation made it harder to control his emotions, but as he brooded over the tribe''s leaders who had wasted time bickering over terms, a sudden sharp pain pierced his thoughts.


    An arrow struck his forehead squarely, and his surroundings fell silent. In a flash, everything stopped. The world blurred and faded away as a chilling cold spread through his body.


    "Uncle!"


    A young warrior, Karato, screamed as he witnessed Sakar fall lifelessly. Looking toward the direction of the arrow, he spotted a crimson dragon hovering far in the distance.


    Grinding his teeth in fury, Karato transformed into his bear-like form, his enlarged arm grabbing a spear strapped to his back. He hurled it at the dragon with all his might, aiming for its rider.


    The spear intercepted Michael''s second arrow mid-air and continued its trajectory, falling just short of Marcus.


    Michael, impressed by the display of strength, smirked. "So, the Five Great Tribes truly live up to their reputation."


    "Marcus, we should gain more altitude," he advised.


    Though there likely weren''t many enemies capable of such power, there was no point in risking unnecessary danger. Michael adjusted his position and resumed his assault. Each time an arrow split the air, another warrior fell, leaving the tribe reeling in horror.


    Karato froze momentarily as he processed the carnage. Even at full strength, his spear couldn''t reach the dragon above. "How can we possibly counter this?" he thought in despair.


    Before he could fall deeper into hopelessness, a protective barrier shimmered to life in front of him, shattering Michael''s next arrow aimed at his right eye. Karato turned to see Kalina, the tribe''s shaman, stepping forward.


    "Get a grip, Karato! With Commander Sakar gone, you''re the next in command," she snapped.


    Karato shook himself awake. Kalina, her braided blood-red hair gleaming, clutched her staff adorned with beads and fixed him with a stern glare.


    "Apologies, Kalina. I lost my focus again," Karato admitted.


    "If you''ve come to your senses, then cover me. I''ll drag him down from the sky," Kalina ordered.


    Karato rallied the nearby warriors, forming a defensive ring around her. Kalina began chanting, her eyes rolling back as she swung her staff. A crimson energy radiated from its tip, distorting the air around them.


    Michael, noticing her movements, loosed another arrow toward her, but the surrounding warriors intercepted it, sacrificing themselves to buy her time.


    As Kalina completed her spell, her staff pierced the air. Michael and Marcus suddenly felt an intense force pulling them downward.


    "Michael, something''s wrong! It feels like something is dragging us from below," Marcus said, his wings struggling to stay aloft.


    Michael glanced down to assess the situation and saw Kalina, her face strained with effort, channeling her spell.


    "Gravity magic¡­" he realized.


    The shamans of the Pamir Empire were notorious for their unique bloodline-based spells, and this one was no exception. Thankfully, the magic seemed to target only him and Marcus.


    As Marcus''s wing beats faltered further, Miaomiao revealed herself, breaking her stealth. The small beast darted toward Kalina like a streak of lightning.


    Kalina raised her staff in a desperate attempt to defend herself, but Miaomiao was already upon her, claws flashing.


    "How dare you threaten Michael and my brother?" Miaomiao hissed.


    With the shaman''s head severed, the invisible force binding Michael and Marcus dissipated instantly. Michael lifted his bow again, now as light as a feather. The oppressive weight that had pressed into his very bones vanished entirely.


    "Shamans will need more caution in the future," Michael thought. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    His armor, taken from an underground temple, had been tested for its durability against magic and explosives. While it easily deflected most magic and survived close-range explosions, shamanic magic was a completely unexpected challenge. Whether it operated on principles different from conventional magic or was simply too powerful for the armor to withstand remained a mystery.


    "Thanks, Miaomiao!" Michael called out. "Next time we encounter a shaman, capture them if you can. We need to study their power."


    "Even now, you''re talking about research? Fine, understood!" Miaomiao replied, her voice brimming with exasperation.


    Having dispatched the shaman, Miaomiao was now targeting the strongest enemies, cutting them down one by one. Each swing of her claws left transformed warriors of the Rock Bear Tribe collapsing in bloody heaps. Even fully transformed warriors, whose thick hides were legendary, fell swiftly under her attacks. She was like a black storm tearing through the battlefield.


    Michael, meanwhile, continued his assault. The Rock Bear Tribe''s reputation for their ability to borrow spirit powers intrigued him. This battle presented an excellent opportunity to test his arrows against the defense of one of the Five Great Tribes, renowned for their unparalleled resilience.

 Chapter 154 - 154 Consecutive Victories

    He aimed first at the thick torsos of his foes. Though his arrows struck true, the warriors merely paused before charging with renewed fury, seemingly strengthened by their rage.


    Dismounting from Marcus''s back, Michael dodged their attacks with agile movements, using the chaos to experiment further. From above, Marcus provided cover, protecting him from any flanking assaults. Taking advantage of an opening, Michael imbued his arrow with aura and fired, piercing a warrior''s thick hide and striking their heart.


    However, this technique was draining. It worked well for eliminating commanders but wasn''t practical in the heat of battle. Michael quickly adjusted his approach, targeting weak points like eyes, mouths, and ears. Every strike was deadly.


    After eliminating the most formidable opponents, Michael signaled Marcus.


    Marcus gave a sharp nod and lashed his tail in wide, sweeping motions, resembling a windmill. Recognizing the signal, the soldiers surged forward in unison. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Target their eyes, mouths, and ears!" Michael shouted. "Aim for any part still in human form¡ªthose are the weak spots!"


    A brutal melee ensued. The formation, composed entirely of knights, struck with overwhelming force. Each beast carried three to five knights, with those in the front wearing heavy armor and wielding shields. Behind them, knights with long spears mercilessly impaled their foes. The selection of knights capable of generating aura at the spear tips paid off as they broke through enemy lines with precision.


    The warriors who had fully transformed into bears had already been killed, leaving the hybrid form warriors to be trampled by beasts and skewered by spears.


    The enemy numbers dwindled rapidly, but the task force suffered casualties as well. The Rock Bear warriors, despite being outmatched, fought fiercely, and their strength took a toll on Michael''s forces.


    Watching the battle from a distance, Karato cursed the heavens. Since the death of Kalina, the tribe''s shaman and his cousin, their forces had been slaughtered relentlessly. With the strongest warriors gone, reassembling the frontlines was nearly impossible.


    Karato clenched his teeth in frustration, despairing as the battle slipped further out of his control. His warriors were being pushed back, their morale visibly waning. Unable to bear it any longer, he shouted, "Form groups of ten and attack together! I''ll circle around to the rear and lead a charge. Isaac, follow me with the first battalion!"


    Though it seemed like a desperate counterattack, it was a ploy to buy time for an escape.


    Michael, perceiving Karato''s intent, smirked. The last remaining commander was resorting to such a cowardly tactic.


    "Rock Bear Tribe commander is fleeing!" Michael shouted, his voice carrying across the battlefield.


    Startled, the Rock Bear warriors turned to see Karato, now in human form, astride a direwolf and fleeing the battlefield. A group of followers, mostly his kin, trailed behind him.


    In the midst of this chaos, Michael loosed an arrow that struck the Rock Bear banner, sending it tumbling to the ground. The already fragile morale of the tribe shattered completely.


    Those with enough strength followed Karato''s lead and fled in panic. Those who remained, disoriented and without direction, became easy prey for the Special Task Force.


    The Elonia Kingdom soldiers stood out with their ferocity, their hatred for the invaders and their desire for glory fueling their relentless attacks.


    Fleeing in the middle of battle was fatal. The Rock Bear warriors were cut down by spears and arrows as they fled, reduced to living targets.


    "Let''s go after him, Miaomiao, Marcus," Michael said, focusing on Karato.


    The gap between them closed swiftly. Miaomiao intercepted Karato, blocking his path with a leisurely yet menacing air. Licking her paws, her silver white claws gleamed ominously under the dark sky.


    Behind her, Michael aimed his bow from atop Marcus. With all escape routes cut off, Karato had no choice but to surrender. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but survival was all that mattered now.


    Raising his hands in defeat, Karato ordered his followers to drop to the ground. Michael''s voice rang out across the battlefield.


    "Rock Bear Tribe, hear me! Your commander has surrendered. I repeat your commander has surrendered! Resistance is futile. Kneel and submit now or die!"


    The sound of his voice carried over the field, reaching every corner. Those still fighting paused to assess the situation. Realizing the battle was lost, many began shedding their transformations and prostrating themselves on the ground.


    A few hesitant warriors glanced around, searching for a way out, but it was too late. There was no escape. Michael''s forces were closing in, tightening the noose.


    Seeing the hopelessness of their plight, even the most defiant eventually dropped to their knees. The famed valor of the Rock Bear Tribe was nowhere to be found¡ªthey were utterly broken.


    If the Rock Bear warriors had responded with a coordinated counterattack rather than succumbing to chaos as their commanders fell, the outcome might have been different. However, they failed to regroup, and more than half their forces were wiped out in the ensuing carnage.


    Even the remaining warriors, tense and fearful of unseen arrows, found themselves too disoriented to fight effectively, retreating in panic. Karato, who had promised to launch a rear attack, was instead seen fleeing with his kin, shattering any remaining morale.


    When the last remnants of resistance faltered, Karato was dragged back into the fray, dangling helplessly from Miaomiao''s jaws. His face was etched with despair and resignation.


    "Karato..." one warrior muttered under his breath, still in his transformed state. The voice carried no hope, only desolation.


    After that single word, the warriors relinquished their forms, kneeling in surrender. The series of blows¡ªthe loss of their strongest fighters, the death of their shaman, the onslaught of Michael''s beasts, and the betrayal and capture of their leader¡ªhad left them broken.


    Karato, bound and thrown to the ground in humiliation, was consumed by bitterness. He regretted not choosing to die fighting alongside his warriors. Instead, he had trusted his uncle''s plan to bring only a small elite force to support the supply unit.

 Chapter 155 - 155 Direwolf-Mounted Knights

    "If only we had brought the full might of the Rock Bear Tribe''s elite warriors, we wouldn''t have fallen so easily," Karato thought bitterly.


    His mind turned to Kalina. She had been reluctant to join the battle, citing her inexperience as a novice shaman. Karato had insisted, convincing her to come along to gain experience. Now she was dead, and the weight of that decision pressed heavily on him.


    As he hung limply from Miaomiao''s jaws, his despair gave way to a simmering fury. "Kalina was the granddaughter of the Grand Shaman! When they learn of her death, you won''t escape retribution," he spat.


    Michael snorted. "I see no reason to fear threats from someone who isn''t even here," he replied coolly.


    Turning to his soldiers, Michael''s tone softened slightly. "Well done, everyone. Secure the prisoners and begin the roll call."


    The battlefield grew quiet. The earlier elation of survival was tempered by the sobering task of accounting for the fallen.


    The captured warriors shuddered under the cold stares of Michael''s troops, some even weeping as they were herded together. The soldiers methodically subdued and restrained the prisoners, binding their limbs tightly to prevent any transformations and gagging them before lining them up.


    When the roll call was completed, the report came in: 12 dead, 35 wounded. Michael closed his eyes briefly, the toll weighing on him. While the casualties were remarkably low considering the scale of their victory, the memory of missions where all his soldiers returned alive made the losses harder to bear.


    He opened his eyes and turned his gaze to the captured Rock Bear warriors¡ª200 in total. This was no minor skirmish. Unlike previous opponents from obscure tribes, the Rock Bear Tribe was one of the Five Great Tribes. Capturing their warriors would have significant political and strategic implications.


    Though the secretive nature of the Special Task Force meant the victory couldn''t be announced immediately, Michael could already imagine the scene when the prisoners were paraded before the allied forces of La-Elonia. Their morale would soar to unprecedented heights, while the prestige of the Pamir Empire would plummet.


    Michael also anticipated lucrative ransom payments. The Five Great Tribes, with their strict adherence to bloodline purity, would spare no expense to reclaim their kin.


    As he paced among the captives, the sticky sound of blood-soaked earth clinging to his boots filled the silence. Each step reinforced the reality of their victory. The Rock Bear warriors, once proud and fierce, now sat with heads bowed in defeat, their eyes reflecting fear and submission.


    Looking around, Michael saw his troops beginning to shake off the fatigue and sorrow of battle. Their spirits lifted as they celebrated their hard-earned triumph.


    The spoils of war were considerable. Beyond the prisoners and their equipment, over 100 direwolves had been captured. These majestic creatures, prized even among beasts, were undoubtedly the greatest prize of the battle.


    The direwolves, initially snarling and baring their teeth, had quickly become docile upon encountering Miaomiao and Marcus. The sight of these once-ferocious animals lying on their backs and wagging their tails brought an unexpected lightness to the grim aftermath. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Some soldiers, particularly those without personal mounts, approached the direwolves with eagerness, seeking to form bonds with them. For soldiers from Michael''s contingent, who lacked the wealth or status to possess their own beasts, this was an unparalleled opportunity.


    Michael observed with a faint smile as his soldiers approached him, their eyes filled with hope. He nodded his approval, and a cheer erupted among the ranks.


    The knights wasted no time selecting their direwolves, forging bonds with their chosen mounts. For those whose wolves still recognized their former owners, the contracts had to be severed before new ones could be formed. Miaomiao, ever opportunistic, facilitated the contracts in exchange for additional gold.


    "This makes you mine now," one soldier whispered to a pure white direwolf as he gently stroked its head. The wolf, unable to speak but clearly understanding the sentiment, nodded slightly.


    Watching the scene unfold, Michael''s smile grew. The thought of a knightly force mounted on direwolves filled him with pride. This victory not only solidified his leadership but also promised to elevate his family''s standing.


    The prospect of commanding a direwolf-mounted knight battalion made his chest swell with anticipation.


    By the time the battlefield was cleared and the contracts with the direwolves completed, it was late into the night. The light drizzle had turned into a steady downpour, soaking the ground and everyone on it. Around the camp, Michael noted the exhaustion on the faces of his troops. Moving under cover of night seemed unwise; rest was necessary before they resumed their march at dawn.


    Having made his decision, Michael approached Sir Kevin and Louis.


    "We''ll rest here tonight. Meeting enemies while we''re this fatigued would be disastrous," he said.


    Sir Kevin nodded, shaking the rain from his damp hair.


    "That would be wise, Captain. Traveling in this state isn''t feasible."


    It was the first time Sir Kevin had addressed Michael as "Captain," a sign that he had earned Kevin''s genuine respect through his leadership and strength.


    "The rain won''t let up anytime soon," Michael continued. "Set up tents and light campfires in groups of ten. Use portable sleeping bags."


    The soldiers quickly followed his orders. Fires sprang to life across the camp, providing warmth and a place to dry equipment. Some began preparing a simple meal of soup made with jerky and ground grains. Others stripped off wet gear and hung it near the fires to dry.


    In the first tent erected, healers were already tending to the wounded. Thanks to the noble heritage of most of the troops, two skilled healers had been brought along for the mission.


    After ensuring that his troops were settled, Michael walked toward where the prisoners were held. The rain soaked his boots, creating squelching noises with every step as he trudged through the mud.


    He arrived to find a wall of flame encircling the area, courtesy of Marcus. The fire burned like a living barrier, its intense heat making it difficult to approach. Michael could see the beasts lounging within the fiery circle, basking in the warmth. The rain evaporated before it even touched the ground, shrouding the area in a thick mist.

 Chapter 156 - 156 Brilliant Victory

    The prisoners were bound in the center of this fiery enclosure. Even if they managed to loosen their bonds and escape, they would never make it past the flames. The realization of their captivity had broken their will, and they sat with heads bowed, utterly dejected.


    Michael glanced at Marcus and Miaomiao, who were huddled together in sleep. Their peaceful forms brought a small smile to his face.


    As the night deepened, the rain intensified. The downpour washed away much of the lingering scent of blood, cleansing the air. Michael ordered his soldiers to maintain a watch rotation and tend the fires. Fatigue was no excuse to lower their guard.


    Taking the lead, Michael volunteered for the first watch. The soldiers protested.


    "Captain, there''s no need for this. You''ve worked harder than anyone. Please rest," one said.


    But Michael shook his head firmly.


    "Everyone is tired. As your leader, I must set an example for you to follow," he replied.


    Reluctantly, the soldiers acquiesced. Michael sat near a fire, listening to the crackle of flames and the patter of rain. The sounds blended into the quiet serenity of the plain, and his thoughts wandered to the state of the front lines.


    Eventually, his watch ended, and the next soldier approached.


    "Captain, it''s my turn now. Please, get some rest," the soldier said.


    Michael handed over the fire poker and rose.


    "Keep a close eye on things, and report any disturbances immediately," he instructed before lying down.


    Though the ground was hard and the air cold, his exhaustion quickly pulled him into a deep sleep.


    Early the next morning...


    Michael awoke to the chill of morning rain on his face. He splashed the cold water over his cheeks, letting it wash away the last vestiges of sleep and fatigue. Nearby, the soldier on watch yawned as he poked the dying embers of a campfire.


    The once-blazing fire had dwindled to faint warmth, barely holding on. Stretching out his stiff limbs, Michael approached Marcus, who was still dozing.


    "Marcus, I need your help," Michael said.


    Marcus blinked awake, yawning widely before looking at Michael.


    "What is it? Why so early?"


    Michael''s gaze drifted to the battlefield, now quiet but still bearing the scars of the fierce fight.


    "Can you dig a large pit over there? Find a boulder to place over it when you''re done."


    Marcus tilted his head in confusion.


    "Why bother with that? Can''t this wait? I could use more sleep," he grumbled.


    Michael placed a hand on Marcus''s crimson-scaled flank and spoke softly.


    "We need to bury the fallen Rock Bear warriors. In exchange, you can keep whatever treasures we find on their bodies."


    Marcus''s eyes lit up at the mention of treasure. Nothing motivated him more. Stretching his wings, he rose quickly, stomping the ground as he cleared the fiery barrier to create a path. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The task didn''t take long. The rain-soaked earth was soft, yielding easily to Marcus''s claws. As he worked, Michael roused his troops. The commotion also woke the prisoners, who huddled together nervously, watching the activity with wary eyes.


    Once the pit was dug, Marcus rolled a large boulder to its edge. Michael directed his soldiers to move the stripped bodies of the fallen Rock Bear warriors into the grave. All usable equipment had already been removed.


    When the last body was laid to rest, they covered the pit with earth and placed the boulder atop it. The prisoners observed the burial from a distance, their expressions a mix of resignation, sorrow, and faint relief. Some closed their eyes and muttered prayers, paying quiet respects to the dead.


    Addressing the prisoners, Michael spoke with authority.


    "Those who fall in battle deserve respect as warriors. I''ve given them that respect. As prisoners, I expect you to do the same by following us without resistance. Understood?"


    Karato hesitated, but eventually nodded. The other prisoners, subdued and somber, bowed their heads in agreement.


    Leaving the now-docile captives, Michael turned to the tent housing the wounded. Inside, the bodies of their fallen comrades lay respectfully prepared. Michael wiped the blood from each with care, placing them in leather pouches sprinkled with preservatives. Though it wasn''t a perfect method, it would suffice to keep the bodies intact for a few days.


    As Michael completed the solemn task of preparing the fallen comrades for preservation, a quiet crowd of soldiers gathered around him. None spoke, their eyes fixed on their captain. Michael raised his head to meet their somber gazes, his expression heavy with the weight of loss.


    In a low, steady voice, he began a prayer:


    "To those who rest here, rejoice with all your heart. Death is a sanctuary, a promised holiness. Do not mourn its end; your vengeance will be mine to bear. If not me, who else shall stain their hands with blood? Peace comes through vengeance, and death brings rest."


    When Michael''s prayer ended, all those present closed their eyes in silent tribute. Tears mingled with the rain as they streamed down the soldiers'' faces. For this moment, all thoughts of victory and survival were set aside; it was time to honor their fallen comrades.


    "The Special Task Force achieved a brilliant victory during this campaign," Count Charles announced, his voice resonating through the chamber. "They annihilated nearly 10,000 enemies, captured 200 warriors from the Rock Bear Tribe¡ªone of the Five Great Tribes¡ªand formed contracts with 105 direwolves. Let''s not forget the food supplies they seized, which otherwise would have gone to the enemy."


    Excitement and pride filled Charles''s voice, and the room mirrored his sentiment. The news of Michael and the Special Task Force''s return to the fortress with such spoils had electrified the kingdom. Soldiers cheered as the bound warriors of the Rock Bear Tribe were paraded into the city. Cries of praise for Michael and his troops echoed endlessly.


    The previously somber atmosphere, burdened by the news of the Pamir Empire''s Five Great Tribes joining the war, was suddenly transformed. Riding the wave of this victory, Charles pressed on.

 Chapter 157 - 157 Blood Debt

    "No record in history tells of 300 soldiers defeating 10,000. We must publicize this triumph!" he declared.


    Other nobles quickly voiced their agreement. The Count of Demonic from the Kingdom of Elonia nodded.


    "Without a doubt! This is a monumental achievement, especially after the string of defeats we''ve endured."


    The Duke of Capone from the Kingdom of Lania offered a small smile.


    "Indeed, this victory is especially reassuring. It marks our first major success through an aggressive strategy, making it even more significant."


    "Three hundred against ten thousand¡ªthis is nothing short of a miracle!" one noble exclaimed.


    "All thanks to Sir Michael! Young as he is, every battle he has fought in has ended in resounding success. A true rising star¡ªa new hero for our time!"


    As the nobles heaped praise upon Michael, Dominic, his father, quietly smiled. Pride radiated from his face. The inclusion of prominent nobles'' offspring in the Special Task Force had proven a wise decision, as their families now worked tirelessly to elevate Michael''s accomplishments.


    "How about calling this victory the Battle of Elandor?" suggested one noble. "After the plains where the Special Task Force fought so valiantly."


    The proposal was met with unanimous approval. Both the Elonian Kingdom, eager for a morale boost after repeated losses, and the Kingdom of Lania, hungry for their allies'' success, celebrated this monumental achievement.


    For political reasons, the fame of Michael and the Special Task Force grew rapidly. Michael, in particular, became the center of attention, hailed as the hero of a new era. Every battle he fought resulted in complete victory, earning him titles such as "Star of a New Age," "Child of Fortune," and "The New Hero."


    Yet amidst the joy, Crown Prince Randolph couldn''t conceal his displeasure. His lack of involvement in forming the Special Task Force gnawed at his pride.


    In the Rock Bear Tribe''s Encampment...


    Inside a tent adorned with the Rock Bear Tribe''s banner, an elderly woman clutched a shattered branch in trembling hands. This branch, once imbued with her granddaughter Kalina''s life force, lay broken. Its state left no doubt: Kalina was dead.


    "Who..." the old woman muttered, her voice shaking with grief. "Who killed my Kalina?"


    Images of her granddaughter''s bright smile from days ago, as she prepared to join the supply unit''s mission, filled her mind. "I should have stopped her," she thought bitterly, tears streaming down her deeply lined face. The sorrow and regret weighed on her like a stone in her chest.


    Clenching her teeth, the woman wiped her tears and steadied herself. With her staff in hand, she left the tent and headed to the chieftain''s quarters.


    "Ah, High Priestess Babaru, what brings you here?" the chieftain, Yandor, asked, startled by her appearance. Babaru had been vehemently opposed to the tribe''s participation in the war and had remained confined to her tent since their departure.


    Babaru''s gaze burned with anger and grief.


    "My granddaughter is dead," she declared. "She left to support Sakar''s unit, but the branch tied to her life force has shattered. She''s gone."


    Yandor shot to his feet, his expression grim. Sakar, his brother, had led that unit, which also included his youngest son, Karato.


    "Are you certain? What could have happened?" Yandor''s voice trembled. Memories of Sakar''s confident assurances came rushing back.


    For Kalina, a shaman and priority for protection, to have perished, it was unlikely that Sakar and Karato had survived either.


    Babaru, consumed by fury, shouted, "Do you think I would jest about this? Kalina was all I had left! You know I lost my children and their spouses to this war. Now my granddaughter too... Find out who killed her! I will tear them apart myself!"


    Yandor sighed heavily.


    "It was supposed to be a simple support mission for the supply unit... I''ll investigate and send our elite warriors for vengeance if needed."


    "No!" Babaru cried, her rage boiling over. "Just tell me who killed her! I''ll take care of the rest myself. I''ll even offer my body to the gods for vengeance!"


    She clutched a sacred artifact passed down through generations of the Rock Bear Tribe¡ªa relic of their goddess. As the tribe''s high priestess, Babaru knew the dangers of invoking divine power. But what did her life matter now?


    Her eyes burned with resolve. Even if it cost her life, she would repay this blood debt.


    The astounding achievements of Michael and the Special Task Force quickly spread across the continent. The unbelievable tale of 300 soldiers annihilating 10,000 enemies while suffering only 12 casualties shocked everyone. Interest in Michael soared further when it was revealed that their victory included the capture of 200 warriors from the Rock Bear Tribe, one of the Five Great Tribes.


    Though the Special Task Force had intended to continue their covert operations, their success was too monumental to remain under wraps. The people, weary from repeated defeats, needed a beacon of hope, and Michael''s triumph became the centerpiece of a widespread propaganda campaign.


    Elonia Kingdom, Royal Palace


    King Henry III sat in council with his ministers, deliberating on how to reward Michael and the Special Task Force. It had already been publicly announced that rewards would be granted without discrimination of origin, including titles and land grants. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Everyone," Henry began, "what are your thoughts on how we should proceed with these rewards?"


    The precarious state of the war made it unwise to grant overly generous rewards. However, if the rewards were insufficient, who would be motivated to contribute to the war effort?


    Mark, the chancellor and a longtime confidant of Henry, smiled knowingly. "Your Majesty, many of the nobles here have sent their kin to the Special Task Force. Who among us would dare discuss rewards for our own blood? Perhaps we should first address the compensation for the Lania Kingdom''s participants."


    Henry''s eyes swept over the gathered nobles, understanding the chancellor''s subtle hint.


    "Do not worry about fairness," he declared. "It is only right to reward meritorious service appropriately. I trust you all to handle this matter impartially."


    The mention of "impartiality" elicited a subtle reaction from the council. The seasoned politicians understood the weight of that word, knowing it was both a command and a warning.

 Chapter 158 - 158 The Family’s Decision

    One noble, whose second son served in the Special Task Force, spoke gently.


    "We are willing to defer rewards for our own men. Given the uncertain outcome of the war, it may be better to finalize their compensation afterward. Their contributions will be recorded regardless. However, those who voluntarily joined from the Lania Kingdom should receive fitting rewards to encourage their continued support."


    Henry''s dilemma was clear. What was the point of rewards when the war was far from over? Lands left unclaimed or ravaged by the Empire''s forces were not practical grants. Nobles who sent their second sons to the Task Force did so with the expectation of securing proper fiefs post-war.


    In contrast, compensating the participants from Lania was more straightforward. Narrowing his eyes, Henry posed a direct question.


    "Are there any among the Lania participants who wish to remain in our kingdom?"


    The intent behind his words was unmistakable. If any were willing to pledge loyalty to Elonia, substantial rewards could be justified. The prospect of incorporating elite knights from Lania into Elonia''s ranks was highly appealing.


    Mark hesitated before replying, his expression strained. "Your Majesty, discreet inquiries were made through nobles stationed at the fortress. However, their loyalty to their homeland runs deep. None expressed interest in remaining here, even with the promise of land."


    Henry frowned. "If they don''t wish to stay, so be it. We''ll defer rewards for our own loyalists until the war''s conclusion and grant rewards to the Lania participants first. Michael shall be awarded the most fertile lands of the Elandor Plains and elevated to Count of Elandor. Handle the rest as you see fit."


    The declaration drew murmurs of approval and subtle glances among the ministers. The lands of the Elandor Plains sounded impressive, but their actual value was contingent on securing victory in the war.


    Mark cautiously inquired, "And what of other rewards, Your Majesty?"


    Henry coughed, adjusting his tone. "Allocate 300,000 gold from the treasury, with 100,000 to Michael personally. Distribute the rest among the others as deemed appropriate."


    Elonia was rich in gold but had failed to channel its wealth into the military, a failure Henry now lamented. Shaking off his thoughts, he added, "Send an appropriate gift to Crown Prince Randolph as well. His recommendation of Michael warrants recognition." sea??h th§× N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As Henry exchanged a meaningful look with Mark and exited the council chamber, the nobles began animated discussions about dividing land and titles among the Lania participants.


    "What about parceling the northern wetlands of the Elandor Plains?" one minister suggested.


    Though the land was currently barren, its potential for development made it a plausible reward. It was also a safe option for offering minimal actual value.


    Another minister scoffed. "Those wetlands flood whenever it rains. Even as a symbolic gesture, it''s not fitting. We should consider the western borderlands instead."


    The western lands, adjoining the Drago Mountain Range, were notorious for frequent monster attacks and poor soil quality. Yet, they were closer to Lania and boasted unique resources, making them appear more valuable on the surface.


    "Those lands change hands constantly due to the monster incursions," someone remarked.


    The ministers exchanged knowing smiles.


    "Exactly," one said. "That makes them perfect. They''ll likely revert to us in the future anyway."


    Here''s the translated and restructured passage in the third-person narrative style:


    "For the next 50 years, the land will belong to them only if they can defend it successfully. With the size of the tracts, each recipient would hold at least a barony. Such conditions shouldn''t seem unreasonable."


    Some ministers found the terms harsh, but they couldn''t argue against the majority''s decision.


    "They''re capable individuals," one minister reassured. "They''ll manage."


    With the distribution of land settled, the council quickly moved on to assigning titles and dividing the gold within the predetermined budget. The discussions concluded swiftly. Though the rewards might seem modest considering the Special Task Force''s achievements, favoritism toward Elonia''s own nobles was inevitable.


    In Lania Kingdom...


    Unlike the drawn-out deliberations in Elonia, Lania''s rewards were swiftly finalized.


    "The Crassus family shall be elevated to the rank of count, and the barony held by Michael von Crassus will henceforth be inherited by the family''s successors. Additionally, the entirety of the Drago Mountain Range near the Crassus estate shall be included in their domain. Material rewards will be provided once the war concludes. These decrees take effect immediately," declared Charles V, King of Lania.


    By further elevating the Crassus family, Charles V demonstrated his satisfaction with Michael''s achievements. The addition of the entire Drago Mountain Range to the family''s domain was a significant enhancement. Previously, the Crassus territory extended only to the lake near their estate.


    With the mountain range under their control, the Crassus family would collect taxes from those hunting beasts or gathering herbs in the area. This alone would surpass the income of many countships, making it a substantial reward.


    After finalizing Michael''s reward, Charles V turned to the rest of the court.


    "Other members of the Special Task Force shall receive rewards based on their contributions, divided into three tiers. The chancellor will oversee the criteria and distribution."


    As soon as the king finished speaking, Chancellor Lant stepped forward.


    "Your Majesty, while Sir Michael deserves recognition, his accomplishments were only possible thanks to the Crown Prince''s keen judgment in assigning him the mission. Shouldn''t the prince also be rewarded?"


    Charles V''s expression brightened as he chuckled.


    "Haha, the boy will inherit the kingdom one day. Seeking talent is a prince''s duty, isn''t it?"


    Not wanting to miss another opportunity, the prime minister stood abruptly.


    "Your Majesty, while that may be true privately, officially, he is Crown Prince of Lania. If he has contributed, he too should be rewarded appropriately."


    Charles V''s smile grew broader, his hand stroking his beard more vigorously.


    "Indeed. Without the Crown Prince''s foresight, Sir Michael''s talents might have remained buried. Perhaps the greatest credit belongs to the prince," added the treasurer, his sycophantic tone drawing a slight frown from the king.


    "That man is too transparent," thought Charles V. While he loved his son dearly, he was also a shrewd ruler.


    "Enough," Charles V said, raising his scepter and striking it twice against the floor. After a moment''s thought, he continued, "The Crown Prince shall also be rewarded. Bestow upon him the royal family''s ancestral pearl set."

 Chapter 159 - 159 Ancestral Land

    The treasurer looked puzzled for a moment, wondering why women''s jewelry was chosen. Chancellor Lant leaned over to whisper, "The prince has sought permission to marry Princess Elise of Elonia. The king opposed it before but seems inclined to agree now, given his recent achievements. Elonia''s renewed hope makes it timely."


    Realization dawned on the treasurer, his expression darkening. A royal marriage! The wedding, likely to follow the war''s conclusion, would undoubtedly drain the treasury.


    Michael stood outside his father Dominic''s quarters, summoned unexpectedly. Strangely, there were no guards or attendants at the door.


    "I should have brought Miaomiao," Michael thought, gripping his sword hilt. If trouble arose, the shadowy presence of Isperman might not be enough.


    Just as he prepared to draw his blade, the door opened, and Dominic stepped out.


    "You''re here. Come in," he said warmly. "I sent the guards and attendants away. I wanted to speak with you privately tonight."


    Michael sighed in relief and followed Dominic inside. The room was warm, the crackling fireplace casting a cozy glow. It wasn''t particularly cold, and Michael noted the unusual gesture.


    Catching his son''s glance toward the fire, Dominic raised his wrist with a smile.


    "Ah, an old wound from the previous war. My wrist and chest ache terribly at night, and I occasionally cough. The healers can''t help, but keeping warm eases the pain."


    Michael thought of the grueling marches they had endured the previous winter. His father had never complained.


    Pouring wine into two glasses, Dominic''s face carried a mix of emotions¡ªregret, pride, and joy.


    "This is the first time we''re sharing a drink together," Dominic said.


    "Then let''s make it a regular thing," Michael replied with a small smile.


    "We should," Dominic agreed. "I''ve been neglectful, haven''t I?"


    Michael bowed his head, unsure how to respond. The father he remembered was a quintessential medieval knight¡ªplacing duty to the family above personal bonds. How could he respond to such a man?


    Dominic''s thoughts mirrored Michael''s in many ways. As a father, he had tried to lead by example, living by strict discipline and responsibility. Perhaps too much, he realized now.


    "I know I haven''t always been the father you deserved," Dominic said softly, his voice heavy with emotion. "But I did my best."


    "I understand," Michael replied. "You''ve always done what you believed was right. I respect that."


    For a moment, Dominic''s eyes grew misty as he looked at his son, so much like himself. Turning away, he walked to the window, gazing at the fiery sunset.


    "I''ve made my decision," Dominic said at last. "For the sake of our family, I will retire. From this moment on, the head of the Crassus family is you, Michael."


    "A family head? Does this mean your health has worsened?" Michael asked, startled by the unexpected announcement. His gaze bore into Dominic, searching for answers.


    Dominic smiled gently, as though soothing his son''s concerns. "No, it''s not that. I''m stepping down to focus the family''s power on you. With your recent accomplishments, the kingdom will undoubtedly elevate our title. When that happens..."


    He paused, meeting Michael''s eyes. "It would mean little if I remained the head of the family. But if you, as the head, receive the promotion, it changes everything. There''s a distinct difference between a future count leading the charge and a count already holding that title."


    Understanding dawned on Michael, and his eyes gleamed with realization.


    "That makes sense," he replied. "But I''ve never been formally trained as a successor."


    Being a family head came with tremendous responsibility¡ªnot only for the legal and administrative duties but also for safeguarding the family''s legacy and the futures of its retainers. Michael would need to lead daily meetings, oversee decisions, and take ultimate accountability.


    Dominic chuckled, sensing his son''s apprehension. "Don''t worry about that. I''ll continue handling the day-to-day matters alongside the retainers, just as I do now. Your focus will remain on the battlefield."


    His confidence in Michael was evident in his gaze, a mix of pride, faith, and even reverence. Dominic''s unwavering belief in his son''s abilities had been shaped by Michael''s remarkable accomplishments.


    Feeling the weight of his father''s trust, Michael managed a sheepish smile. "In that case, I''ll accept."


    Dominic''s face lit up with a broad smile at his son''s agreement. He began sharing a piece of family history Michael had never learned.


    "You weren''t trained as a successor, so you may not know this, but our family descends from an ancient kingdom." S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael, already aware of his royal lineage through the artifacts of Ariadne, listened intently. While he knew of his royal blood, the details of how a former royal house had become mere vassals were a mystery to him.


    "It''s a long-forgotten tale known only to the family head and their successor," Dominic continued. "Our lineage nearly ended, and our ancestral lands have long been lost. But the truth remains¡ªwe carry royal blood."


    Taking a sip of wine, Dominic resumed.


    "According to continental law, even if a kingdom falls, a royal descendant can reclaim ownership of their lands if they liberate them. Of course, that''s nothing more than a dream now."


    His eyes drifted to the distant horizon as though envisioning the grandeur of their ancestors.


    "After the kingdom''s collapse, surviving royals sought refuge with loyal retainers. Our ancestor changed their name and pledged themselves to a count in Lania. Initially welcomed as guests, they eventually became retainers themselves."


    Dominic paused, watching Michael closely. His gaze held both regret for lost glory and hope that his son might forge a new path. Restraining himself to avoid burdening Michael, he added in a lighter tone, "But don''t worry, I''m not asking you to rebuild a kingdom or anything absurd like that. Relax. You''re not planning to claim the throne, are you?"


    Michael laughed, knowing full well that any ambitions he harbored were not ready to surface. Dominic, sensing his son''s restraint, smiled warmly.


    "I''m telling you this so you understand the last request of our ancestors," Dominic explained. "Though they fled with nothing, they left behind one wish: ''If the opportunity arises, reclaim the old lands.'' Pass this along to your own heir one day."


    Dominic placed a firm hand on Michael''s shoulder, and the two exchanged a smile. No further words were needed to convey the depth of their understanding.


    With Michael''s agreement, the process moved swiftly. By the next day, after relaying the Crassus family''s decision through Duke Capone, an official decree bearing the Crown Prince''s seal arrived. Michael was now the head of the Crassus family.

 Chapter 160 - 160 Count of Crassus

    As Randolph, the Crown Prince, signed the decree, he couldn''t conceal his irritation. The lingering resentment over Michael''s independent formation of the Special Task Force and his subsequent glory still stung.


    "Duke Capone, why the rush in finalizing this?" Randolph asked curtly.


    The duke responded with a knowing smile, aware of the prince''s underlying frustration.


    "Sir Michael''s achievements warrant such expedience. Even His Majesty is delighted. I hear rewards will soon be bestowed in the capital."


    Capone''s smile carried a subtle rebuke. As someone entrusted by Charles V to guide the prince, Capone recognized the folly of showing continued resentment toward a rising hero like Michael.


    Randolph cleared his throat awkwardly, recalling the private letter from his father. Charles V had explicitly instructed him to win Michael''s favor and ensure he became a loyal sword to the royal family.


    Capone, sensing the moment, spoke earnestly.


    "Your Highness, I''ve mentioned this in passing before, but now I must insist¡ªMichael is no longer who he once was. He is the hero of the Battle of Elandor and, at his young age, already the head of the Crassus family."


    He paused to gauge the prince''s reaction before continuing.


    "Even Dominic is no fool. For him to relinquish his position and support Michael so fully speaks volumes. Word has it His Majesty plans to elevate the Crassus family''s title. If that happens, Michael will become a count."


    Capone sighed, adding, "This level of advancement hasn''t been seen in two centuries. It reflects His Majesty''s immense trust in Michael. Remember, Your Highness, you were the one who first recognized Michael''s talent and sponsored his rise. You must maintain a good relationship with him."


    Randolph clenched his teeth. While he disliked the persistent reminders of his missteps, he couldn''t deny the truth. Michael''s meteoric rise was undeniable, and keeping him close was essential.


    Randolph, the Crown Prince, was still young and prone to emotional outbursts. His temper flared as he stood abruptly, his cloak sweeping the air.


    "Enough! I''ve heard you, so let''s leave it at that. Do you think I''m so petty as to be jealous of my subject''s achievements? That''s not the issue!" he snapped, his voice rising. "What bothers me is that I, the Crown Prince and supreme commander of this warfront, was not consulted about the formation of such a critical unit as the Special Task Force."


    Duke Capone sighed inwardly. What nonsense is this? Who barred you from attending the meetings? Despite being urged to participate in critical discussions, the prince had neglected his duties, distracted by his pursuit of Princess Elise. Now, he seemed to regret being unable to claim credit for Michael''s achievements.


    "Your Highness," Capone said calmly, "you are the cornerstone of this kingdom. Your contributions have already been proven by recognizing Sir Michael''s potential and allowing him to serve. The more Michael succeeds, the more your reputation will shine. Please, exercise restraint."


    Randolph''s tense expression began to ease, though deep inside, a gnawing insecurity remained. He wished he truly possessed the foresight to recognize Michael''s potential, as others believed. Yet he alone knew the truth: his decision to elevate Michael had been impulsive and immature.


    To mask his unease, Randolph forced a bright smile and clapped a hand on Capone''s shoulder.


    "Very well! I won''t act so small-minded again. After all, having a young talent like Michael rise in the kingdom is a cause for celebration. Let''s drink and put this behind us!" sea??h th§× nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Though the tension in the prince''s laughter lingered, Capone chose not to press further.


    "Wise words, Your Highness," he replied, raising his glass.


    Their goblets clinked together with a clear note, and the mood in the room gradually grew convivial once more.


    A Royal Decree


    A royal decree arrived from the Lania Kingdom, addressed to Michael as the commander of the Special Task Force. Kneeling on one knee, Michael listened attentively to the royal envoy''s proclamation:


    "By the authority of Charles V, sovereign of the Lania Kingdom and rightful heir to its throne, the following honors are bestowed upon the Crassus family. The Crassus family is hereby elevated to the rank of Countship..."


    The decree was lengthy, filled with grandiose language, but Michael absorbed the essence. His family was granted a hereditary countship, with his father Dominic officially recognized as the acting head for procedural purposes. Additionally, the Crassus estate was expanded to include portions of the Drago Mountain Range, along with taxation and judicial rights. However, the family was now obligated to attend annual royal meetings in the capital.


    Accepting the decree, Michael rose and bowed in the direction of the capital, vowing to uphold the responsibilities bestowed upon his family.


    The rewards extended beyond Michael. Other members of the Special Task Force from Lania also received individual honors based on their contributions. By the time the ceremonies concluded, the sun had set.


    Celebrations


    A modest yet hearty banquet followed, bringing together nobles, knights, and soldiers within the fortress. Toasts were raised, and laughter filled the hall as everyone indulged in the rare reprieve. Even outside the fortress, soldiers were treated to a feast¡ªstew rich with meat, fresh bread, roasted meat, sausages, and ale.


    The penal troops, often relegated to meager rations, were astonished by the generous spread. Albert and Jean wasted no time, eagerly devouring the warm food. The hearty stew soothed their weary bodies, leaving them momentarily content.


    "We must survive to experience this again," they resolved, savoring the rare luxury.


    Even the beasts were treated to roasted livestock stuffed with fruit and seasoned with a spicy glaze.


    "They should always prepare food like this," one beast murmured.


    "Agreed! The seasoning is divine," another chimed in.


    Marcus, chewing contentedly, thought to himself, This is my everyday life! I''m so glad I chose to follow Michael.


    Noticing Marcus''s smug grin, Miaomiao shot him a disdainful glare.


    "Not hungry, are you?" Marcus teased. "I''ll take your share then¡ª"


    Before he could finish, Miaomiao smacked him on the head and protectively cradled her meal, hissing in warning.


    The lavish feast, funded entirely by the Crassus family, further cemented Michael''s growing reputation. Generosity, after all, drew admiration across cultures.

 Chapter 161 - 161 Troublesome Prince

    In the Rock Bear Tribe


    Inside the tent of the high shaman Babaru, preparations for a ritual were underway. Sitting before a mirror, she painted a third eye onto her forehead with black dye and draped herself in a bear pelt.


    As the reflection grew darker, a sinister aura filled the tent. Rising slowly, Babaru stepped outside, where her long-time companion awaited¡ªa second-tier magical beast, a siren. Its upper body was that of an exquisite maiden, while its lower body shimmered with scales. The siren spread its massive white wings.


    Though the tribe''s chieftain had attempted to conceal the identity of Kalina''s killer, Babaru had her own sources. The Lania Kingdom''s fledgling hero, Michael, was responsible.


    Two hundred of her kin had been taken as prisoners, leaving the tribe paralyzed. Yet Babaru, long detached from her kin, felt only cold resolve. The moment she learned of Kalina''s death, her heart had frozen over.


    Mounting the siren, Babaru''s voice echoed with fury. "Let''s go! Kalina''s death will not go unanswered."


    Her eyes burned with vengeance as they soared into the night sky.


    "Ha ha! It''s refreshing to indulge for once, isn''t it, Count Michael?" Randolph, the Crown Prince, declared loudly, his voice echoing through the grand banquet hall. Reclining comfortably in the seat of honor, he swirled the wine in his goblet, his broad shoulders radiating ease.


    "All thanks to Your Highness," Michael replied politely. "The wine is exquisite."


    Michael, recently elevated to count, sat between the Crown Prince and Duke Capone. Despite his newfound fame and elevated status, he maintained a cautious demeanor.


    "Ah, this wine? Elise recommended it," Randolph said with a grin. "She''s a woman of refined taste and knows how to support a man."


    Michael suppressed a sigh. Randolph''s casual mention of Princess Elise''s name hinted at their growing familiarity. The banquet, hosted in the same opulent hall where a grand ball had once taken place, felt overly indulgent, especially given the war''s ongoing challenges.


    The dazzling chandelier hanging from the high ceiling illuminated the luxurious hall. Nobles mingled, chatting over delicacies and fine wine, their laughter mingling with the tinkling of glassware.


    The ostentatious grandeur of the Elonia fortress starkly contrasted with the memory of its ill-equipped soldiers. Michael shook his head at the thought.


    Nobles flocked to exchange greetings with Michael and the Crown Prince, eager to make an impression. Their overconfidence troubled Michael. The recent victory against the Rock Bear Tribe, one of the Five Great Tribes, had clearly emboldened the nobles of Lania.


    "It''s surprising how much the Elonians exaggerated their plight," remarked a viscount from the central regions, sipping his wine with a smirk.


    "Indeed," another noble chimed in. "While we''ve endured countless wars, Elonia seems unaccustomed to conflict. They could have avoided such humiliation if they''d invested their wealth in military strength instead of luxury."


    The group laughed, their derision filling the room. However, nobles from the northeastern provinces, more experienced with the Empire''s forces, frowned at the remarks.


    "They speak so lightly," one whispered to another. "They''ll pay for their arrogance."


    "Michael''s victory was as much a result of careful preparation as tactical brilliance," another replied. "They underestimate the Empire at their peril."


    The cautious northeastern nobles remained silent, unwilling to provoke their complacent peers. Even Randolph seemed unbothered by the reckless attitudes. Michael, too, chose not to intervene, merely observing with a faint smile.


    The limitations of feudalism, Michael thought grimly. The reckless boasting and lack of coordination underscored the challenges of managing the coalition forces. The Special Task Force''s covert operations had already been compromised by the fanfare surrounding their success.


    Despite the festive atmosphere, Michael''s unease deepened. The advancing Pamir Imperial Army was a formidable foe, one that demanded vigilance.


    "Count Michael, what are your plans for tomorrow?" Randolph asked suddenly. "I plan to ride with Princess Elise after breakfast. Would you care to join us? We could discuss current affairs during the ride."


    Most nobles would have eagerly accepted such an invitation, especially given the rumors of a potential royal engagement between Randolph and Elise. But Michael was not most nobles, and he had no interest in the prince''s romantic pursuits. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Forgive me, Your Highness," Michael replied, "but I have scheduled a full day of training with my soldiers."


    "Oh? Then perhaps I''ll visit after my ride to observe your training," Randolph suggested, his tone bright.


    Michael''s expression tightened. The Crown Prince''s growing interest in his forces threatened to undermine his command. Noticing Michael''s discomfort, Duke Capone interjected smoothly.


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    "Your Highness," the duke said, "Count Michael has recently assumed his new title. As the head of his house, he''ll need time to reorganize his forces. Perhaps a visit would be more appropriate at a later date."


    Michael offered the duke a small nod of gratitude. Capone returned the gesture with a benevolent smile.


    "Ah, I see," Randolph said, laughing lightly. "My apologies, Count. I got ahead of myself."


    "Not at all, Your Highness," Michael replied, his tone measured. "It would be an honor to host you, but as the duke mentioned, I must first stabilize my position. I hope you''ll visit once everything is in order."


    Unaccustomed to deferring to others, Randolph simply laughed, brushing off the matter with ease. Capone, sensing the prince''s growing agitation, quickly moved to diffuse the situation further.


    "Count Michael, you seem fatigued. Perhaps you should retire early and rest," the duke suggested.


    Michael seized the opportunity, pretending to press a hand to his temple. "Thank you for your consideration, Your Grace. Your Highness, with your permission, I''ll take my leave."


    Randolph, oblivious to the undercurrents, waved him off cheerfully. "Go, go. Rest well. We''ll speak again soon."


    Bowing politely, Michael exited the hall, his mind already shifting to the challenges ahead.


    Randolph, the Crown Prince, seemed thoroughly satisfied and waved Michael off with a genial smile.


    "Of course, go and rest. It just occurred to me¡ªyou''ve been fighting relentlessly without a proper break. To think I had you kneeling to receive a decree in such a state... Ha! My apologies. I should have let you retire sooner."


    "It was an honor to speak with Your Highness," Michael replied courteously.


    "Good to hear. Let''s make time for more conversations in the future."


    Michael bowed to those gathered, then left the hall. The banquet, however, continued in full swing behind him.

 Chapter 162 - 162 Infiltration

    Under the cover of darkness, Babaru approached the fortress, veiled in a shroud of magic. The spell she cast, though not rendering her truly invisible, blended her figure into the surroundings and muted her presence¡ªmore than adequate for sneaking inside.


    Perched on her companion, the siren Alona, Babaru scaled the fortress walls with practiced precision, finally slipping into the shadows within. The aroma of roasting meat and the distant sound of drunken soldiers retching filled the air. S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Celebrating after killing my granddaughter¡­ how dare they?


    Her hands trembled with barely contained rage, but she forced herself to focus. In a low voice, she addressed her companion.


    "Alona, keep watch while I divine his location."


    The siren nodded silently, her gestures conveying understanding. Her voice, imbued with innate magic, remained unused except in moments of utmost necessity.


    Babaru retrieved fragments of bone from a pouch at her side, tossing them into the air before they clattered onto the ground. Closing her eyes, she began chanting, her words ancient and resonant. The discolored bones shifted and clinked against each other, rearranging into patterns.


    Opening her eyes, Babaru scrutinized the arrangement with a keen gaze, her bony fingers tracing their positions.


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    "There you are," she whispered, a triumphant gleam in her eyes as she discerned Michael''s location. Carefully gathering the bones back into her pouch, she secured it to her waist, where an array of similar pouches hung.


    Babaru moved stealthily through the fortress, keeping to the shadows. Her third eye, drawn upon her forehead in dark dye, enhanced her perception, allowing her to map the fortress''s layout and pinpoint the positions of guards.


    The celebratory atmosphere had made the defenses lax, with sentries distracted and patrols sluggish. Hugging the walls, Babaru and Alona advanced with caution. Climbing a watchtower, the siren paused at Babaru''s signal to remain below as she ascended.


    From the vantage point, Babaru saw two guards stationed on the stairs leading toward Michael''s quarters. Their faces were flushed from alcohol, and they exchanged complaints in hushed tones.


    "Of all nights to pull sentry duty¡­"


    "Tell me about it. Everyone else is drinking and feasting while we freeze out here."


    "Yeah, well, orders are orders. Not like they care about us."


    From another pouch, Babaru produced a fine powder. She scattered it into the air, and the faint breeze carried it toward the guards. Moments later, they began to nod off, their exhaustion overtaking them.


    Slipping past without a sound, Babaru entered the corridor leading to Michael''s chambers. The route was less heavily guarded than the watchtower, but patrols roamed intermittently. She waited in the shadows, observing their patterns, then moved with precision, hiding behind columns and alcoves as she approached her target.


    At last, she reached the door to Michael''s quarters. Two guards stood vigilant outside. Killing them would draw attention, and even putting them to sleep risked discovery by nearby patrols. From yet another pouch, Babaru retrieved a rare substance¡ªfaerie dust, known for inducing short-lived but vivid hallucinations.


    Holding her breath, she scattered the dust toward the guards. As it settled, their eyes glazed over, and their minds succumbed to illusions. Babaru stepped boldly into their line of sight. Despite her movements, the enchanted guards remained oblivious, their senses clouded.


    Entering Michael''s chamber, she released a final pinch of faerie dust, ensuring its effects would lull him into a dreamlike stupor. As she approached the bed, her trembling hands steadied, her rage cooling into cold resolve.


    I''ll tear him apart. Piece by piece, he''ll pay for Kalina''s death.


    Drawing on the power of the Rock Bear goddess, Babaru lunged toward the bed. She had never killed with her bare hands before, but her hatred propelled her. Her hands reached out¡ª


    And froze.


    A chilling sensation coursed through her, her instincts screaming in alarm. Spinning around, she felt the presence of an overwhelming force behind her.


    The room was no longer hers to command.


    Michael lay down on his bed, feeling a deep sense of fatigue. As the tension in his muscles eased, sleep began to take hold. However, just before he drifted off, he sensed something unusual and opened his eyes immediately.


    Quietly rising from his bed, Michael scanned his surroundings. Outside the door, he could feel an external energy¡ªa dense and hostile force. Moving silently, he stepped out of bed and walked cautiously. His movements blended seamlessly into the darkness as he approached the window.


    Moonlight streamed faintly through the window frame, casting a soft glow. In that dim light, Michael noticed a slight movement near the door. Initially, he thought it might be just dust, but gradually, more particles began to move unnaturally. Tiny silver particles were drifting into the room through the gap in the door.


    These minute particles floated slowly in the air, emitting a beautiful glow. Yet, Michael could sense the danger hidden behind their beauty. Instinctively, he covered his mouth and nose with his hand. These particles were undoubtedly hazardous.


    His gaze sharpened, and his muscles tensed. His heartbeat quickened, though he remained calm. Positioning himself behind a pillar where the faint moonlight couldn''t reach, Michael calculated the situation quickly.


    Meanwhile, his companions, Miaomiao and Markus, were likely outside, indulging themselves in merriment with other beasts. Michael decided to send a message to Miaomiao. Since he and Castro had shared Ines''s enchanted earrings, immediate communication was possible.


    The door continued to rattle. The adversary outside appeared to assume that Michael had inhaled the mysterious powder and fallen unconscious, judging by their leisurely approach.


    Michael carefully moved his fingers to his earring. Concentrating on it, he channeled his magic, feeling its power ripple through his fingertips. In a low whisper, he spoke into the earring. Despite the ongoing rattling of the doorknob, he remained composed.


    "Miaomiao, can you hear me? There''s a hostile external force outside my bedroom. Come here immediately. If you encounter anyone suspicious on the way, capture them."


    As he awaited a response, Michael''s world narrowed to just the rattling doorknob, the earring, and the rhythmic thudding of his heart. Though he was confident in his ability to confront the situation alone, he couldn''t guarantee that there was only one enemy.

 Chapter 163 - 163 A Midnight Attack

    "I hear you, Michael. I''ll be there as quickly as I can. Stay safe."


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    Miaomiao''s calm voice reached him faintly through the earring. Relieved by her prompt response, Michael regained his composure and prepared for the imminent confrontation.


    He melded seamlessly into the shadows by the window. The deep, dark shade created by the moonlight cloaked him completely, making him disappear into the darkness. Hidden within the shadows, Michael held his breath, straining his ears for any sound.


    The silver powder continued to float in the room, but fortunately, the shadows shielded him from its effects. They provided him with the perfect hiding place. Pressing his back against the wall, Michael minimized his movements and controlled his breathing.


    The silence was broken by the faint creak of the door opening. The sound resonated loudly in the quiet of the night, putting Michael further on edge.


    As the door opened, a gust of wind swept into the room, scattering the floating particles. Shortly after, a large shadow emerged from beyond the doorway.


    The intruder, moving with the precision of a predator hunting its prey, stepped cautiously into the bedroom. Hidden in the shadows, Michael narrowed his eyes and observed the intruder''s movements.


    The shadow was far too large to belong to a human. As the moonlight illuminated the figure more clearly, Michael realized it was a giant bear. For a moment, he doubted his eyes. His concentration wavered briefly, causing him to momentarily expose himself from the shadows. Sear?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The enormous bear, its form nearly touching the ceiling, emitted low, guttural growls between heavy breaths. Its massive body moved clumsily, and Michael immediately understood why the door had taken so long to open. Manipulating the small doorknob with its thick, rough paws must have been a difficult task.


    The bear, nearing the bed, growled louder, seemingly excited. Its black eyes glinted sharply in the light, a blend of feral savagery and human cunning reflected in its gaze.


    Initially, Michael had considered confronting the intruder head-on. Regardless of the enemy''s identity, he was confident in his ability to prevail. However, realizing the adversary was a massive bear changed his approach entirely.


    Fighting a creature of that size head-on would be foolish. Moreover, this was no ordinary bear¡ªit was undoubtedly part of the Rock Bear Tribe. The magical powder seeping through the door and the pouches hanging at its waist hinted at its purpose.


    Michael recalled Karato''s warning: retribution was inevitable after the death of the grand shaman''s only granddaughter. Clearly, Karato''s words hadn''t been an empty threat.


    Identifying the enemy, Michael melted back into the shadows. The bear''s ferocious eyes gleamed with rage and a thirst for vengeance, its immense strength now subdued.


    "What was that power?" Michael wondered briefly before refocusing on the task at hand.


    The bear swung its massive paw, slicing through the air with incredible force. The bed splintered under the impact, its wooden frame and fabric shredded as if made of paper.


    Watching from the shadows, Michael shuddered at the thought of that immense power being directed at him. The bear, realizing the bed was empty, began to rampage. Furniture shattered under its colossal paws as it wreaked havoc in the room.


    Whatever enchantment was cast outside, no soldiers responded despite the chaos. The eerie silence heightened Michael''s unease.


    Crouching in the shadows, he carefully moved to find the bear''s blind spot. His shadow concealment spell was highly effective, but it had one critical weakness¡ªhe would become visible when attacking.


    This meant he had to find the perfect opportunity for a single, fatal strike. Anything less would leave him vulnerable to the bear''s claws. This was no ordinary bear; it wielded the power of an external force.


    If Michael could touch the bear''s body, he might be able to absorb its magic. However, doing so would put him at great risk. The safest option was to deal a fatal blow first before attempting to siphon its power.


    The bear continued its rampage, destroying everything in its path as Michael quietly calculated his next move from the shadows.


    Moving gracefully within the shadows, Michael searched for the bear''s weak point. His target was the neck. If he could strike an arrow between the nape and the spine, it would deal a fatal blow. But for that, he needed the perfect opportunity.


    His focus sharpened further. The sound of the bear''s breathing, its claws scraping against the floor¡ªthis was a situation where even the slightest mistake could not be afforded. Taking a deep breath, Michael steadied his mind once more.


    He couldn''t rely on Miaomiao or Markus for assistance. The complete silence outside indicated that the enemy''s external force was likely blocking any external interference.


    The enraged bear, Babaru, scoured the bedroom relentlessly. Her divinations still indicated that Michael was in the room, which only served to intensify her fury. It had all been a perfect plan¡ªor so she thought.


    "Where could he be hiding? Cunning little pest," she muttered internally, her anger mounting.


    Michael moved nimbly between the shadows, avoiding the bear''s rampage. Babaru swung her heavy paw, toppling a luxurious wardrobe made of fine wood. The crashing of the wardrobe onto the floor filled the room with a deafening noise, scattering fabric and wooden debris in all directions.


    Seizing the chaos as an opportunity, Michael used the flying dust and fragments as cover to reposition himself. When Babaru bent down to inspect the wardrobe''s contents, Michael didn''t miss the chance.


    Quietly, he raised his bow from within the shadows, his eyes cold and focused as he took aim. Steadying his breath, he drew the bowstring and nocked an arrow. In that moment, all the noise in the room seemed to vanish, leaving only his target in his sight.


    He could see every muscle rippling along the bear''s back, every strand of fur shifting with each breath. As he silently recited an executioner''s prayer, he released the arrow.


    The arrow cut through the air, hurtling toward the bear. Babaru sensed something amiss and began to turn, but it was already too late. The arrow buried itself deep into her neck, piercing through the thick hide and severing her spine.

 Chapter 164 - 164 Executing The Intruder By Mistake

    A sharp, piercing scream echoed through the room, so chilling that it seemed to make the surrounding darkness tremble. Writhing in pain, Babaru collapsed to the floor.


    From the shadows, Michael emerged slowly. His eyes fixed on the fallen bear, a glimmer of steel in his gaze.


    "The avenger of Karina," he thought.


    Babaru''s fading vision locked onto the dark-haired young man approaching her. She could feel the immense power emanating from him, a force entwined with multiple external energies.


    Summoning the last of her strength, Babaru attempted to raise her paw, but it barely twitched. Michael remained composed, his expression indifferent as he assessed her condition. Only after confirming that the threat had been neutralized did he step closer.


    It would be best to secure her completely, he decided. Babaru glared at him, her bloodied mouth trembling as her breaths became increasingly erratic.


    Her eyes, filled with a mixture of rage and despair, bore into Michael, but his gaze was devoid of emotion. Calmly, Michael approached the growling bear and gripped her thick, powerful shoulder.


    Babaru struggled to break free, but she no longer had the strength to resist.


    The divine energy of the Rock Bear Goddess began to flow toward Michael, the raw and untamed magic surging into him. Feeling the powerful wave of energy, Michael exhaled in exhilaration. This was enough to replenish his expended magic¡ªand then some.


    Babaru, sensing the divine power of her goddess being absorbed by her enemy, let out a scream of pain and despair.


    "You¡­ dare defile the sacred power of the goddess? No¡­ oh goddess, forgive me!"


    The bear''s form began to fade, her massive body shrinking and dissolving. Soon, all that remained was an old crone, shriveled and weak, draped in a bear pelt and clutching a carved bear figurine.


    She collapsed, utterly drained, glaring at Michael with eyes filled with venomous hatred, rage, and fear.


    "You¡­ what is the nature of your power¡­?" she rasped, her voice barely audible as her final breath escaped her lips.


    Michael flinched at the unexpected outcome. He had intended to keep her alive and interrogate her about how she had infiltrated the room. But it no longer mattered. The execution had been carried out, and if needed, she could be revived.


    Placing a hand on her lifeless body, Michael began to chant the resurrection spell.


    "[Resurrectionis electio!]"


    Nothing happened.


    Confused, he tried again.


    "[Resurrectionis electio!]"


    The result was the same.


    "[Resurrectionis electio!]"


    "[Resurrectionis electio!]"


    For the first time, the spell failed repeatedly. Michael paused, forcing himself to analyze the situation calmly.


    Babaru had committed crimes, and her execution was just retribution for attacking a commander during wartime. He had recited the executioner''s prayer correctly. So why wasn''t the resurrection working?


    Reaching out, he touched her body once more and chanted a different spell.


    "[Absorptionem eligo!]"


    A gentle light arose, flowing into Michael''s body.


    Absorbing her abilities worked, but resurrection did not? His gaze swept over Babaru''s lifeless form.


    There must be some condition, he thought, for the resurrection spell to succeed.


    As soon as Babaru met her demise, the barrier sealing the area seemed to dissipate, allowing Miaomiao to burst through the door. Outside the window, Marcus''s eyes were filled with deep concern.


    "There''s no need to worry. It''s over now," Michael reassured him.


    [Have you captured the intruder who infiltrated this place? On my way here, I managed to capture a beast as well,] Miaomiao declared.


    "What rank is it?" Michael asked, his interest piqued.


    If the beast was of the sixth rank or higher, communication would be possible, and they could extract information about its origin and how it had infiltrated their territory. With luck, they might even uncover the current location of the Rock Bear Tribe''s encampment.


    [It''s a second-rank beast¡ªa Siren. I''ve already sealed its abilities, and Marcus and I have thoroughly intimidated it. With some persuasion, it should be willing to cooperate,] Miaomiao replied confidently.


    Michael sighed in relief. His mind drifted back to the abilities he had absorbed from Babaru. Now, at last, he could focus on them without distraction. As he concentrated, Babaru''s entire life flashed before his eyes.


    He saw her childhood, running freely across the grasslands with friends. He saw her younger years, when she received the call of the Rock Bear Goddess. Then came the war, sanctioned by her tribe, which had led to the meaningless sacrifice of her son and daughter-in-law. He saw her holding her young granddaughter in her arms, weeping.


    She had fought desperately to prevent her tribe from engaging in yet another war, but in the end, she had been forced to participate alongside her granddaughter. And finally, he witnessed her granddaughter''s tragic death and Babaru''s unfulfilled thirst for vengeance.


    Michael opened his eyes, having relived the life of a woman whose fate had been written in pain and loss.


    He reviewed the ability he had acquired, nodding to himself. It was an incredible power¡ªone that could easily dominate the battlefield. Read exclusive adventures at My Virtual Library Empire


    A bitter smile formed on his lips as he recalled Babaru''s actions. Despite possessing such an extraordinary ability, she had infiltrated enemy lines alone, determined to assassinate a single person. In the end, she had thrown her life away in vain.


    Had she possessed even a basic understanding of military strategy or actively participated in warfare, the outcome could have been vastly different. Perhaps it had been sheer luck on his part. S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    If Michael had not killed Babaru''s granddaughter, Kalina, she would have fought in the war. And if she had encountered even a slightly competent commander, she could have fully utilized her potential.


    A certain saying surfaced in his mind: Those blessed by the Outer Gods are accompanied by fortune.


    If that was true, then Michael was undoubtedly favored. The blessings he had received from the Outer Gods were unparalleled¡ªwas it really surprising that he experienced fortune far beyond that of others?


    By now, soldiers had gathered around, alerted by the disturbances in his quarters. Upon witnessing the carnage inside, they hesitated, fearful of reprimand. Michael waved them away.


    He needed time for a private discussion with Miaomiao.


    "All of you, withdraw for now. The situation has already been resolved. Head downstairs and wait. I need to speak with the Sphinx and determine how the intruders managed to enter."

 Chapter 165 - 165 Restrictions On The power Of Resurrection

    Once the soldiers had vacated the room, Michael turned to Miaomiao and spoke.


    "Miaomiao, as a member of the wise Sphinx clan, you should know much about the abilities granted by the Outer Gods. The old woman who infiltrated tonight was the High Shaman of the Rock Bear Tribe. After executing her, I attempted to resurrect her¡ªbut it didn''t work. However, my ability to absorb powers functioned without issue. Why do you think that is? Is there some kind of limitation on the ability?"


    Miaomiao pondered the question for a moment, her eyes gleaming with wisdom before she finally spoke.


    [To be honest, I always thought your ability lacked proper restrictions. The power to resurrect should not be so absolute. Typically, such abilities are constrained when the deceased harbors deep resentment or unfulfilled grudges toward the one trying to bring them back.]


    It made sense.


    Until now, none of the people Michael had resurrected bore any ill will toward him.


    Leonardo had accepted his fate willingly, and Ispher had done the same. As for the ones he had revived from graves, they had never even encountered him in life.


    Now it was clear. Babaru had died with immense hatred and resentment toward him for killing her only granddaughter, Kalina. That was why the resurrection had failed.


    [Additionally, those who pass away without lingering attachments often refuse to return, even when the power of resurrection reaches them,] Miaomiao added.


    Michael nodded.


    That meant there were two clear conditions for resurrection.


    The first was that the deceased must not bear strong resentment toward the one attempting to bring them back. Since Babaru had died cursing Michael, the power had not taken effect.


    This also meant that if he had attempted to resurrect Lincoln, it might have failed as well. Back then, he had only used his ability to absorb powers, so he hadn''t been aware of these conditions.


    The second condition was that the deceased had to possess the will to live again.


    Babaru, having lost her granddaughter, had no desire to return to a world without her. S§×arch* The n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    All those Michael had revived so far had harbored a strong yearning to continue living.


    Even Ispher, he later learned, had been desperately searching for his origins before his death.


    Understanding why Babaru''s resurrection had failed, Michael felt at ease.


    From now on, when faced with such cases, he would simply use his power absorption ability instead.


    He had grown reliant on the convenience of resurrecting the dead, but sometimes, it seemed, there were limits even to his powers.


    Their discussion was abruptly cut short as commotion erupted downstairs.


    The sound of hurried footsteps echoed up the stairwell¡ªCrown Prince Randolph and the King himself were approaching, accompanied by their men.


    A moment later, Ispher, who had remained in the banquet hall to gather information, arrived first.


    Kneeling before Michael, his face pale, he spoke in a grave tone.


    "I have failed as your guard. To think that you suffered such an ordeal in my absence¡ªI have no excuse."


    Michael helped Ispher to his feet, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.


    "There''s no need for such words. You were only following my orders, so don''t let this weigh on you. Now, before others notice, return to the shadows."


    Though Ispher had not entirely erased the somber expression from his face, he silently disappeared into the darkness.


    At that moment, Crown Prince Randolph appeared at the top of the staircase.


    "What in the world has happened here? Count Michael, this is a grave matter indeed! Some vile scoundrel dared to target my most valued commander?"


    Behind him stood Dominic, Michael''s father, his face tight with concern. However, upon confirming his son''s safety, he visibly relaxed.


    "The intruder has already been dealt with, and the beast accompanying them has been captured. Thank you for your concern, Your Highness," Michael said, addressing Crown Prince Randolph.


    Randolph''s expression of deep concern as he looked at Michael made his head ache. He was well aware of the prince''s intent to get closer to him and wished to avoid further proximity.


    The soldiers of the Crassus family, who had followed Dominic, appeared pleased to see the crown prince paying such close attention to their lord. However, Dominic''s face was far from cheerful, as he fully understood the burden weighing on his son.


    Randolph glanced at the ruined bedroom and offered a suggestion. "You won''t be able to rest comfortably in this state. Why not move to the room next to mine? There''s something I''ve been meaning to discuss with you. For tonight, get some rest, and come to my quarters for breakfast tomorrow morning."


    Although Randolph''s concern and invitation were unnecessary, Michael felt compelled to express his gratitude, even if the gesture was unwelcome.


    "I gratefully accept your invitation, Your Highness."


    Pleased with himself, Randolph slowly gathered his belongings, bidding Michael to rest before disappearing from sight.


    Behind him stood the anxious captain of the Elonia guard, clearly worried about being reprimanded for the breach. Bowing repeatedly, the captain began to apologize profusely.


    "My deepest apologies for this incident. I assure you, we will tighten our security measures to prevent such occurrences in the future. Please forgive us."


    Michael raised his hand to stop him. "It''s impossible to stop every determined intruder. Don''t dwell on it too much. Instead, ensure that the security around the crown prince and princesses is reinforced. Given their importance, their quarters must be secured."


    In truth, the royal family''s lodgings were likely far better guarded than Michael''s, but even that wouldn''t have mattered against an attack by a grand shaman like today. If anything, had the intruder targeted the prince or princesses, their mission might have been successful.


    After offering lengthy apologies and leaving several subordinates to assist with clearing the room, the captain finally withdrew, leaving Michael in a rare moment of quiet.


    Ordering the soldiers to gather his belongings, Michael turned to his father with a faint smile. Dominic, still visibly tense, spoke with concern.


    "Are you truly unharmed? What happened here? Was there really a beast involved, as well as this intruder?"

 Chapter 166 - 166 The Siren

    Approaching Babaru''s lifeless body, Dominic nudged it with his foot, flipping her so her face was exposed. He had initially thought the intruder''s small frame seemed unusual, and now he clicked his tongue.


    The revealed face belonged to an old crone, her wrinkles deep and numerous.


    "Sending a frail old woman as an assassin¡­ what were they thinking?" Dominic muttered.


    Michael smiled slightly and replied calmly, "Don''t underestimate her. She was the grand shaman of the Rock Bear Tribe."


    Startled, Dominic recoiled, wiping the sole of his boot against the floor as if cleansing himself of something foul. His expression now showed a mix of shock, fear, and disgust.


    "A shaman of the steppes? And from a major tribe like the Rock Bears? Such a figure is considered sacred¡ªwhat on earth was she thinking, coming here in person?"


    "She sought vengeance for her only remaining granddaughter, whom I killed during the last expedition," Michael explained.


    Recalling the battle between Michael and the Rock Bear Tribe, Dominic nodded. If this was for the sake of avenging her sole blood relative, such a daring infiltration made sense.


    "Even so, it was a reckless endeavor. Shamans aren''t meant to operate like this. Regardless, this has earned you a great achievement. Killing the grand shaman of one of the five great tribes is no small feat."


    Dominic''s face lit up with pride. His son truly was a harbinger of fortune, achieving monumental feats without even stepping onto the battlefield.


    "Indeed," Michael said. "But she likely never imagined her life would end so miserably in this place. Her lack of real combat experience as a shaman was evident."


    Inexperience aside, the fact remained that the deceased was a grand shaman. Dominic shook his head as he glanced at Babaru''s lifeless form once more.


    "No time to dwell on this. I''ll report your accomplishment immediately. You must be exhausted, so go rest in the quarters the prince arranged for you. I''ll handle the paperwork. By the way, what kind of beast was captured?"


    Michael thought of the Siren, which Miaomiao and Marcus were currently guarding. With both of them keeping watch, the Grade 2 beast wouldn''t dare make a move.


    "Miaomiao says it''s a Grade 2 Siren. Its powers are sealed, and it''s been thoroughly subdued, so it might prove useful later," Michael replied.


    Dominic nodded, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "That''s excellent. A Grade 2 beast... if we can utilize it on the battlefield, that will be another significant contribution."


    "Let''s focus on interrogating the Siren for now," Michael suggested cautiously. "For the moment, just report the death of the grand shaman. There''s still much we need to uncover."


    "Understood. You''ve done exceptionally well, and most importantly, I''m grateful you survived such an attack," Dominic said warmly.


    Michael offered a faint smile in response to his father''s kind words.


    As Dominic, still buoyant, ascended the stairs toward his quarters, Michael sighed deeply. The fatigue from his battle with Babaru coursed through his body.


    All he wanted now was rest.


    The bedroom prepared by Crown Prince Randolph was comfortable. Michael awoke from a deep sleep on a bed far softer than his previous one, finally feeling somewhat restored. Stretching slowly, he still felt the lingering fatigue throughout his body. After his grueling battle with the massive bear, there wasn''t a part of him that didn''t ache. The tension from the ordeal hadn''t fully dissipated either.


    Beside his bed, Miaomiao and Marcus were fast asleep, while Michael could sense Esper lingering in the shadows. A faint smile appeared on his face. It seemed the previous day''s attack had unsettled them all. sea??h th§× n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As Michael quietly got up, Miaomiao stirred, rubbing her sleepy eyes before sitting up.


    "[I was busy interrogating the Siren yesterday¡­ no, I mean, questioning it thoroughly,]" Miaomiao reported. "[The intruder and the Siren were indeed from the Rock Bear Tribe. The old woman''s name was Babaru, and she was the grand shaman of the entire tribe.]"


    That much Michael had already suspected. He even knew her name.


    "Thank you, Miaomiao. Did you learn anything else?"


    Encouraged by Michael''s praise, Miaomiao''s tail began to twitch with excitement. Marcus, meanwhile, had woken partially and was watching their exchange with one eye half-open.


    "[The Rock Bear Tribe didn''t send her to assassinate you¡ªit was Babaru acting on her own. The Siren was a beast bound to Babaru''s family for generations, but it claims it wants to pledge itself to you now.]"


    "Really?" Michael''s eyes narrowed.


    A Grade 2 beast like a Siren pledging allegiance to him seemed too convenient. Was there an ulterior motive?


    "Does it show any signs of harboring thoughts of revenge or anything similar?"


    Miaomiao''s eyes sparkled as she answered, "[The Siren species are not particularly aggressive or battle-hardened. They''re a mysterious kind, living in deep seas, and their voices are imbued with magic, which is why they rank as Grade 2 beasts. It says it was captured by humans and forced into servitude. Now that Babaru''s direct bloodline is severed, the binding contract is gone, and it''s free. It seems trustworthy.]"


    Michael nodded but remained cautious.


    "What''s your opinion? Could this be a trap?"


    Miaomiao shrugged nonchalantly. "[It doesn''t seem that way. I tested it, and it isn''t lying. Besides, given the nature of the Siren species, it can''t return to its kin. If it forms a new contract with a suitable master, it should be manageable.]"


    Michael''s expression grew contemplative.


    The first potential candidate for the Siren''s contract that came to mind was his father. A Siren would be a useful companion, capable of serving as a guard or even transportation.


    "Take good care of it for now. Let''s observe it a bit longer before deciding."


    Miaomiao nodded and lay back down. She understood Michael''s caution, considering the Siren had been an enemy just a day ago. If he had taken the situation lightly, it would have been more concerning. Marcus, too, yawned and closed his eyes again.


    Michael''s thoughts turned to the ability he had acquired the day before. It was related to weather manipulation. Although there were limitations on the range and duration, it could be an incredibly powerful asset on the battlefield. He could slow enemy advances, ease troop movements, or even aid in ambushes.


    As he pondered the possibilities, someone cleared their throat outside the door. Michael''s gaze shifted to the sound.

 Chapter 167 - 167 The Art Of Courtly Gossip

    "Count Michael, are you awake? His Highness the Crown Prince has invited you to join him for breakfast," came the servant''s cautious voice from beyond the door.


    Michael took a moment to compose himself. Breakfast with the crown prince so early in the day was unlikely to be a relaxing occasion.


    "Very well. Let him know I''ll prepare and join shortly," Michael replied.


    Shaking off his thoughts, Michael rose from his seat and quickly dressed. The need to pay attention to every detail of his attire reminded him of the conveniences of modern times.


    As he entered the dining hall, he was greeted by Crown Prince Randolph, who was already dressed in elaborate morning attire. The prince greeted Michael warmly, his bright smile masking an undercurrent of subtle emotion that didn''t escape Michael''s notice.


    Michael sat as eggs prepared in varying styles, bread, butter, and jam were brought before him. A servant stood ready to pour tea or coffee at a moment''s notice. Randolph was already eating, his golden-accented plates arranged neatly before him, and a fragrant rose in the centerpiece added a touch of elegance to the meal.


    Considering the ongoing war, the lavish breakfast was almost excessive.


    "I''ll have coffee, no milk, with a bit of water," Michael requested in a calm tone. He needed to stay alert.


    Once his coffee was served, Michael picked up his knife and fork and began eating at a measured pace.


    After wiping his mouth with a napkin, Randolph initiated casual conversation. "I originally planned to take a morning walk with Elise today, but after last night''s unfortunate events involving you, Michael, I thought it better to catch up with a peer and discuss the current state of affairs. I hope that''s alright with you?"


    Michael smiled politely. "I appreciate Your Highness''s thoughtfulness."


    Though unsure of the crown prince''s exact intentions behind the breakfast invitation, Michael maintained his composure, masking his wariness with an amiable smile. He took a bite of the soft, perfectly cooked eggs, savoring their flavor.


    As Michael ate, Randolph continued to share his thoughts on the current situation. Without the Duke of Capone to temper him, the prince seemed particularly animated.


    Michael nodded and responded lightly, keeping up the conversation. Wasting such a fine breakfast would indeed be a crime.


    "Have you seen the noble troops from the central regions? Their discipline is laughable compared to the soldiers you''ve personally trained. They''ve grown fat, gorging themselves on the lifeblood of my people," Randolph said, emotion creeping into his tone.


    As the prince''s remarks grew more impassioned, Michael remained careful not to be drawn in. Regional tensions were a sensitive topic in the Kingdom of Lania, especially between the nobles of the borderlands and those of the prosperous central regions.


    Michael couldn''t discern if Crown Prince Randolph''s remarks were meant to align with Michael''s identity as a border noble defending the northern regions or if the prince genuinely cared about "his" people. It was puzzling, especially considering that Randolph''s father, Charles V, was still firmly on the throne, making the claim of "his" people seem premature.


    To avoid revealing unnecessary emotions, Michael took a quiet sip of his coffee.


    "Their discipline is indeed somewhat loose," he replied, his tone carefully neutral and slightly dry. "But we must remember that they are all fighting for the glory of the kingdom."


    Randolph leaned forward. "But think about it. Doesn''t it seem strange that their advance was so slow? Even if this place is far from the central regions, such delays shouldn''t happen. Don''t you agree?"


    The prince''s question was laden with a trap. He seemed eager for Michael to echo his frustrations.


    Michael took a moment to steady his thoughts before responding. "Even so, they haven''t violated military orders, have they? At a time like this, unity is paramount. We shouldn''t let past grievances cloud our cooperation."


    Seeing Michael''s reluctance to engage in criticism, Randolph changed the subject. Michael maintained his role as a measured listener, offering occasional remarks that were bland and inoffensive. It wasn''t out of disinterest or disregard for the prince, but because of the sensitive nature of the topics. Any misstep on Michael''s part could easily be twisted.


    Unlike Randolph, whose position allowed for candid opinions and unrestrained discussions, Michael couldn''t afford such liberties. Having gained significant acclaim in the current war, he was in a precarious position. Any poorly chosen words could create unintended consequences.


    Still, Michael''s attentive gaze and occasional gestures of acknowledgment seemed to keep Randolph in good spirits as he continued talking.


    "...And so, a duel broke out between Count Ava and Viscount Landen," Randolph recounted with a chuckle. "It was utterly ridiculous! Count Ava is over seventy, for goodness'' sake. He had to send his knight as a proxy, leaving the poor fellow in an awkward spot. And it''s not as if Count Ava''s wife is some extraordinary beauty¡ªshe''s just fifty years younger and moderately attractive. And Landen¡­."


    Michael couldn''t help but marvel. This is the art of courtly gossip. S§×ar?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Randolph seemed to have an endless reservoir of stories, ranging from recent military developments to the latest scandals in the social sphere. The sheer variety of topics was almost impressive.


    However, as the conversation dragged on with little substance, Michael began to feel a twinge of boredom. Still, hiding his emotions was one of his strengths, and he kept his demeanor neutral.


    Eventually, Randolph began steering the conversation toward the main topic.


    "...In any case, I believe you''re the only noble who truly acts with pride and loyalty befitting your station, Michael. If all nobles were as capable and devoted as you, there''d be no reason to worry about the kingdom."


    Michael responded with a light laugh, recognizing the superficiality of the praise. Randolph wasn''t genuinely complimenting him; this was merely the prelude to the real discussion.


    Soon, Randolph revealed the crux of the matter.


    "I hear that reinforcements from the Radiant Holy Kingdom, the Celeste Empire, and other allied nations will be arriving soon. With their arrival, we''ll be able to expand the frontlines. Thankfully, we secured this key fortress first¡ªotherwise, the credit might have gone to someone else."

 Chapter 168 - 168 Randolphs Ambition

    Hearing this new and significant information, Michael''s eyes sharpened.


    "How many reinforcements are expected to arrive here?" he asked.


    Randolph, as if waiting for the question, responded confidently. "Oh, there''s no need to worry about that. With a commander of your caliber here and our current forces more than sufficient, additional troops would only create confusion in the chain of command. So, I declined reinforcements for this location. Elonia''s crown prince has brought adequate guards as well."


    Michael''s composure nearly cracked at the prince''s astonishingly shortsighted decision. Who in their right mind would reject reinforcements during a war, all for the sake of hoarding credit?


    Suppressing his rising frustration, Michael took a deep breath before speaking in an even tone.


    "Avoiding confusion in command is important, Your Highness. However, additional reinforcements could provide strategic flexibility. We could launch offensives on other fronts or provide support where needed."


    Randolph''s eyebrows twitched in surprise. He hadn''t expected this response but quickly dismissed it, stubbornly clinging to his perspective.


    "I disagree. More troops aren''t always the answer. Haven''t you yourself achieved decisive victories with fewer forces? A well-coordinated army under unified leadership is what truly matters."


    Internally, Michael sighed. He now understood the prince''s reasoning. It wasn''t just shortsightedness¡ªit was an attempt to consolidate control and claim credit.


    If that was the case, Michael knew there was only one course of action. He needed to steer the conversation toward ensuring clear military authority, preferably under his own command.


    "In that case, to maximize efficiency, I suggest we clarify the command structure. Perhaps we should convene a military meeting to formalize the chain of command," Michael proposed.


    Randolph''s expression shifted subtly as he studied Michael. The prince''s original plan had been to enlist Michael''s support in securing supreme command for himself. But before he could even broach the subject, Michael had maneuvered the discussion in a different direction.


    Still, Randolph couldn''t openly oppose the idea. After all, who else but the crown prince could assume the role of supreme commander? The Elonia crown prince, though a guest, was too preoccupied with securing a marriage alliance for his sister to challenge Randolph''s authority. The other generals and nobles were similarly unthreatening. And Michael, despite his accomplishments, was still merely a count.


    Nodding, Randolph instructed his attendant to summon the generals and nobles for a meeting.


    Michael watched silently, sensing the inevitable confrontation over command that lay ahead.


    Under Crown Prince Randolph''s initiative, another military meeting was convened. This time, both Crown Princes of Rania and Elonia were present. The meeting was largely orchestrated by Randolph''s efforts to secure the position of supreme commander.


    Elonia''s Crown Prince Edward hesitated at the door of the meeting room, unable to hide his nerves. His neatly tailored uniform only accentuated his youthful features, making him appear even younger than his 15 years. S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    You can do this. Don''t be afraid. Be strong! he thought, recalling the encouraging smile of his twin sister, Princess Charlotte. Yet, the memory provided little comfort.


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    After taking a deep breath, Edward finally opened the door to the meeting room. The assembled figures turned their attention to him.


    Two seats of honor had been prepared for the crown princes. The weight of sitting in one of those seats felt overwhelming to Edward as he took cautious steps inside. Randolph was already seated, exuding confidence.


    Edward glanced at Randolph and attempted to mimic his composed expression, but the effort proved futile. His anxiety remained evident.


    Behind Randolph stood his trusted advisor, Duke Capone, while Duke Ethan, Edward''s mentor and advisor, took his place behind the younger prince.


    Michael, now recognized as a key figure for the Rania side, sat next to the seats of honor. Opposite him was Count Demonic, representing Elonia.


    Randolph made a subtle gesture toward General Louis, one of his closest allies. However, Louis, known for his lack of perceptiveness, seemed content to sit beside Michael instead of closer to Randolph.


    Leaning back in his chair, Randolph addressed Duke Capone with a question. Though Randolph already knew the answer, it was necessary to revisit the topic for the benefit of the others present.


    "What''s the status of the reinforcements?"


    Surveying the room briefly, Duke Capone responded in a calm tone.


    "Your Highness, the reinforcements from the Radiant Holy Kingdom have already arrived at East Fortress. The Celeste Empire''s forces are expected to gather at Kent Fortress within three days. Meanwhile, allied troops from various kingdoms are en route to Broad Fortress, though it will take about a week for all the reinforcements to assemble."


    Edward listened intently, but his thoughts were muddled, as if ink had spilled across his mind. He found himself glancing at Count Michael, whom he deeply admired.


    While Randolph occasionally disparaged Michael as arrogant, Edward couldn''t see anything but greatness in him.


    Michael, unaware of Edward''s admiration, sighed inwardly. The distribution of reinforcements across various fortresses left little hope for additional troops being sent to Orlando Fortress.


    "So, it''s safe to assume there will be no reinforcements sent to Orlando Fortress. What about the Pamir Imperial Army? When are they expected to arrive?" Michael asked.


    "They should gather within three days at the latest. According to the scouts, the number of tribes joining them is steadily increasing," Capone replied.


    As Michael suspected, news of his victories had led the tribal forces to abandon isolated actions. They were now organizing for a large-scale assault.


    After a moment of silence, Michael spoke. "I suggest we strengthen our defenses starting today. You''ve all heard about the assassin who infiltrated my quarters last night. In addition to enhancing the security of key figures, I propose increasing our reconnaissance forces. We need to broaden our surveillance efforts."


    The room collectively nodded in agreement. Taking the opportunity to steer the discussion, Randolph raised his voice to draw attention.


    "With the arrival of the Imperial Army, it''s time to establish a clear command structure," he declared, his voice rising to command the room''s focus.


    "We''ve been operating without a unified front so far, but the situation has changed. As the Crown Prince of Rania, I am ready to take on the role of supreme commander and lead us on the frontlines."

 Chapter 169 - 169 Establishing Command

    Randolph''s words were firm, his gaze steely. Yet beneath the surface, he burned with a competitive spirit toward Michael.


    A tense silence followed his declaration. Having coordinated with Randolph beforehand, Edward hesitantly voiced his support.


    "I''m still young, so I agree that Randolph should take command," Edward said awkwardly, his words trailing off as though unsure of himself.


    The Elonia generals appeared uneasy but refrained from speaking up. Emboldened, Randolph raised his chin and smiled confidently.


    Meanwhile, Duke Capone looked visibly distressed.


    With Michael¡ªa rising star of military strategy¡ªalready here, why should the Crown Prince lead the frontlines? Despite his attempts to dissuade Randolph, the prince had stubbornly insisted.


    Capone, as Randolph''s advisor, couldn''t openly contradict him in a public setting like this. Recognizing Capone''s predicament, Michael decided to voice his objections.


    The room grew tense as Michael''s calm voice broke the silence.


    "Your Highness," Michael began, meeting Randolph''s gaze.


    "What I''m about to say may be unpleasant, but I must speak. The Pamir Imperial Army, including its five main tribes, is converging on this location. The situation is dangerous, and for your safety, it would be wiser for you to remain within the fortress."


    Randolph''s face hardened instantly.


    Having observed the prince, Michael knew he was unfit to lead in the field. At best, Randolph could serve as a symbolic figurehead. The victories of the troops under his command would still reflect well on him, so his insistence on personally leading the frontlines was perplexing.


    For the sake of Randolph''s safety¡ªand the success of the campaign¡ªMichael hoped the prince would heed his advice and stay within the fortress.


    However, Randolph, clearly affronted by Michael''s candid words, erupted in anger. His face turned red with frustration.


    "What is the meaning of this? I was appointed commander-in-chief by His Majesty the King! How can I fulfill my role if I don''t lead on the frontlines? Are you suggesting I should be content with being a figurehead?"


    Michael responded calmly.


    "My concern is for your safety, Your Highness. Should anything happen to you here, it would throw the frontlines into chaos and lead to irreversible consequences for both Rania and Elonia. Is such a risk necessary?"


    Unable to find a flaw in Michael''s reasoning, Randolph glared at him in silence.


    Sensing the escalating tension, Duke Capone quickly intervened to defuse the situation.


    "Your Highness, Count Michael''s argument is valid. A tree must have strong roots to thrive, and we are but branches extending from your roots. If the branches bear fruit, it is ultimately the roots that benefit. But if the roots are harmed, the entire tree withers," Duke Capone explained, his tone calm but his metaphor clear.


    General Louis chimed in as well. "Your Highness, you represent the kingdom itself. If you expose yourself on the frontlines, it will make effective maneuvers nearly impossible. Should the Empire''s forces capture you, the consequences would be catastrophic. We can''t afford to allocate troops solely for your protection either." S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Randolph''s hands trembled with anger.


    Even the foreigners from Elonia don''t oppose my taking command, yet my own kingdom''s nobles humiliate me like this?


    Randolph had heard his father complain about the nobles'' arrogance countless times, but he hadn''t expected it to this degree.


    Unbeknownst to Randolph, the Elonia delegation privately agreed with Rania''s generals. While their precarious situation forced them to show deference to Randolph, they were relieved to see Rania''s advisors maintaining sound judgment.


    For Michael, who had led the opposition against Randolph''s decision to take command, the support was a welcome surprise. He hadn''t expected such agreement but appreciated the sensible behavior of those sent by King Charles V.


    Michael was now confident that the Rania delegation did not endorse the prince''s reckless ambition. Even if Charles V learned of the meeting''s proceedings, he would likely side with Michael''s reasoning.


    Michael also believed that Randolph, once his temper cooled, would come to understand the rationale behind his counsel. While the prince''s current emotions clouded his judgment, Michael had faith that logic would prevail eventually.


    Even if Randolph held a grudge, Michael wasn''t concerned. If the prince sought retribution after ascending the throne, Michael would likely have accumulated enough power by then to hold his own. The Crassus family had already suffered the loss of its ancestral lands under the guise of a royal reward; there was little more the crown could take. This was one of the few advantages nobles had under feudal law.


    "So, I''m supposed to just remain in the fortress?" Randolph hissed, grinding his teeth.


    He couldn''t stand the thought of Michael continuing to thrive while he was sidelined. Though he couldn''t fully explain why, Randolph harbored an intense rivalry with Michael. Perhaps it was jealousy over someone his age achieving such renown, or perhaps it was sheer competitive instinct.


    One thing was certain: if Randolph had a dragon or a sphinx at his command, he believed he could have accomplished just as much as Michael.


    It was a naive thought, born of inexperience, but the young prince didn''t realize it.


    "Your presence within the fortress alone would command respect, Your Highness," one of the advisors offered.


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    "Ha! And yet, you chastised me for not attending previous military meetings. Why bother asking my opinion when you make all the decisions yourselves? Come, Prince Edward. Let us leave¡ªclearly, we''re just decorative pieces here!" Randolph spat, rising abruptly and storming out with his cloak billowing behind him.


    Caught off guard, Edward scrambled to his feet and hesitantly followed.


    The room fell silent as the two princes departed. Duke Capone sighed and took charge of the situation.


    "His Highness must be feeling cooped up, having been confined to the fortress for so long. His Majesty has entrusted me with full authority in his absence. Let us proceed with the meeting," Capone announced.


    The attendees visibly relaxed. Michael, however, silently clicked his tongue. Doesn''t Randolph realize how damaging this tantrum is to his image?


    Whether it was youthful arrogance or a lack of worldly experience, Randolph''s actions demonstrated his immaturity. Michael couldn''t help but worry about the kingdom''s future after Charles V''s reign. In a feudal system, a weak monarch only emboldened their vassals.

 Chapter 170 - 170 supreme commander

    To earn respect, one must do something worthy of it. While it was uncertain how Randolph would mature, his current behavior gave little hope. Michael suspected Charles V would rue having only one heir.


    As Duke Capone observed Michael''s calm demeanor, he grew increasingly uneasy. For someone so young to display such composure... it''s terrifying.


    Even with Randolph as the nominal commander-in-chief, Michael''s poise and confidence were unsettling.


    With the princes gone, the meeting progressed smoothly, and the attendees quickly reached a consensus.


    "If we defend this fortress successfully, it will send a strong message. It may even be possible to reclaim the Dolce Line," one general noted.


    "Indeed. Securing Orlando Fortress and reclaiming the Dolce Line would cut off the Empire''s supply routes. The Dolce Line''s destruction was unfortunate, but the scorched-earth strategy during the retreat was brilliant. The fields were burned, and wells were filled in, leaving the Empire with no resources in the occupied areas. If we can disrupt their supply chains further, victory is within reach," another added.


    "The question remains: who should assume the role of supreme commander?"


    "May I propose a candidate?" Duke Capone asked, stroking his beard thoughtfully.


    The room turned to him, granting him permission to speak.


    "The role of supreme commander is critical in this campaign. It requires someone who can balance the interests of all parties involved. Considering the recent victories and strategic brilliance displayed, I believe Count Michael is the most suitable candidate. What are your thoughts?"


    Michael remained silent, lowering his head to allow the others time for discussion.


    After exchanging glances and brief deliberation, the attendees reached a unanimous decision.


    "Let Count Michael assume supreme command."


    "I agree."


    "We can trust Count Michael to lead."


    "You''ll have to shoulder the burden, Count Michael."


    Raising his head, Michael smiled. At last, he had secured command.


    A royal envoy from Elonia arrived at Orlando Fortress.


    The envoy, a middle-aged man cloaked in a black robe, exuded authority with the diamond-encrusted badge draped over his shoulder. He unfurled a scroll bearing the royal seal and surveyed the gathered knights with sharp eyes.


    His voice was calm and dignified as he read the proclamation aloud, but its contents drew murmurs of dissatisfaction from the audience.


    "In recognition of the valiant achievements of the special task force selected from the Kingdom of Lania, His Majesty Henry III has decreed the following rewards of titles and lands. First, Sir Michael von Crassus. For your courageous leadership as commander of the task force, which brought victory to the battlefield, you are granted the title of Count of Elandor and the most fertile plains within Elandor as your domain. Next¡­"


    As the envoy continued reading, a ripple of discontent spread among the knights. While the honorary titles bestowed by Elonia were of little practical value, the awarded lands were currently occupied by the Pamir Imperial Army.


    Even if these lands were reclaimed, their state of devastation due to scorched-earth tactics meant that rebuilding them would take years. Continue your saga on My Virtual Library Empire S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The knights exchanged disgruntled whispers.


    "They''re giving us useless land? Ha! They might as well hand out gold instead."


    "Even if we win the war, how are we supposed to restore and manage that?"


    Noticing the growing dissatisfaction, the envoy cleared his throat and resumed reading.


    "¡­Additionally, as monetary rewards for their valor, a total of 3 million gold pieces will be distributed. Of this, 1 million gold is awarded to Count Michael von Crassus, with the remaining 2 million to be distributed according to individual contributions. The list of honorees is as follows¡­"


    As the long list of names was read aloud, the knights swallowed hard, waiting to hear their own.


    While the land grants were unimpressive, the gold was a different matter entirely. The knights whose names were called brightened visibly. Even the lowest-ranked honorees, designated as third-class contributors, received 50,000 gold pieces each.


    "Amazing. A rich nation is truly different," one knight muttered.


    "Indeed," another agreed. "They say even dogs in Elonia''s capital carry gold scraps in their mouths. That must be true."


    Michael, too, was quite satisfied.


    The grant of the Elandor region as his domain did not trouble him. Combined with the lands awarded by Charles V, Elandor elevated Michael''s holdings to rival those of a duke. While he would need to invest significant effort into reclaiming the territory, war was unavoidable anyway.


    Receiving a fertile region within Elandor, famous for its richness, was a promising reward. And the 1 million gold was certainly gratifying.


    Though Michael''s recent windfalls had eased his financial burdens, no one ever complained about having too much gold.


    Finally, the magical beasts that had served alongside him were also rewarded. News of Michael''s practice of compensating beasts for their contributions had spread across the continent, prompting royal courts to improve their treatment of such creatures.


    As part of this effort, rewards were given to the beasts. Miaomiao and Markus, designated as first-class contributors among the beasts, received golden saddles.


    Although Miaomiao grumbled, "What do they think I am, a mere mount?" she clutched the golden saddle tightly, purring softly. Markus, meanwhile, expressed unreserved joy, demanding to drape the ill-fitting ceremonial saddle over his back.


    Other beasts were given golden reins or helmets according to their contributions. While all the beasts were pleased, those designated as third-class contributors couldn''t hide their envy as they eyed Miaomiao and Markus.


    To further reward their efforts, Michael allocated 100,000 gold each from his monetary reward to Miaomiao and Markus, adding it to their investments.


    Their faces lit up with delight upon hearing the news. Recently, the two had developed a keen interest in their growing "bank accounts."


    Markus gazed at his account book with a dreamy expression. "Ah, I really love gold¡­" he murmured.


    Miaomiao, glaring at Markus with disdain, nevertheless hugged her account book tightly. Around her neck dangled a golden pouch Michael had crafted at her request. She now refused to part with her purse, even avoiding transforming into her feline form for fear of misplacing it.

 Chapter 171 - 171 Frustrated Crown Prince

    This unintended side effect had worked in Michael''s favor. The disappearance of opportunistic nobles trying to ingratiate themselves with him had been a welcome change. Anyone with genuine business wasn''t deterred by a sphinx''s presence nearby.


    Unknowingly, Miaomiao had become an excellent deterrent to sycophants.


    Meanwhile, Crown Prince Randolph sat deep in thought, holding a letter from his father.


    He was already troubled by the embarrassing scene he''d caused during the military meeting, and the contents of the letter only added to his unease.


    The message, written by Charles V, urged Randolph to remain safe within the fortress and avoid unnecessary risks. Though phrased diplomatically, it was clear his father supported Michael''s role as supreme commander.


    Turning to Duke Capone, who sat beside him sipping tea with elegant composure, Randolph asked cautiously, "Duke Capone, was I too hasty?"


    Without losing his refined demeanor, Capone replied, "I have told you many times, Your Highness, that you need not compete for glory. You are far above such concerns."


    Randolph let out a long sigh. "Hah¡­ I suppose you''re right. I should apologize to Michael before the situation worsens."


    The duke smiled approvingly.


    Despite Randolph''s flaws¡ªhis emotional nature, arrogance, and stubborn need to win¡ªhe possessed one redeeming quality: the ability to listen to advice.


    Though young and inexperienced, his shortcomings could be remedied with time. Much of his insecurity stemmed from being compared to his brilliant father. However, Randolph was neither malicious nor irredeemably foolish.


    Perhaps Duke Capone''s optimism was influenced by years of watching Randolph grow, but he believed the prince had potential.


    Setting his teacup down, Capone reassured him, "Count Michael is a pragmatic man. He will appreciate Your Highness''s apology. It''s important to maintain a good relation with him¡ªhe is a talent with great potential, provided he survives this war."


    Randolph flinched slightly at the praise for Michael.


    For years, Randolph had basked in the unreserved admiration of the royal court. His father, Charles V, had always hoped that his only son would not repeat the painful struggles of his own reign.


    Randolph Crown Prince had always been celebrated for even the smallest accomplishments, with both his father and mother doting on him excessively. The prince had grown up in an environment of unrelenting praise, which inevitably fostered arrogance.


    When raised in such conditions, it becomes easy to see everyone else as inferior. Michael''s emergence as someone objectively superior was something Randolph simply couldn''t accept. For the first time, he was consumed by a feeling of inferiority, a notion he wanted desperately to reject.


    Perhaps the educational approach of Charles V and the queen had been flawed. While the naturally docile Astrid Princess had been raised under strict discipline, Randolph, with his fiery temperament, had been coddled with constant compliments. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Duke Capone, observing the crown prince, considered this thoughtfully.


    Randolph''s behavior had often been disappointing, but this wasn''t merely about Michael. It seemed to stem from a deeper seated inferiority complex, fostered by years of implicit comparisons with his illustrious father, Charles V V. Growing up under the shadow of such a renowned monarch was no easy burden.


    Still, Capone was relieved to see Randolph reflecting on his actions and showing a willingness to accept advice. How many kingdoms throughout history had fallen because their rulers ignored sound counsel?


    If Michael had known Capone''s thoughts, he might have pointed out the downside of Randolph''s ability to take advice. Being open to others'' suggestions also meant being easily swayed and having a lack of conviction.


    Michael accepted Randolph''s apology.


    It was better to mend fences and allow the prince to collect himself rather than let him continue sulking. Whether the apology was heartfelt or merely perfunctory didn''t matter to Michael. After all, their paths would diverge in time.


    While some might praise Randolph''s humility in apologizing to a subordinate, Michael thought differently.


    The prince''s actions were far too frivolous for someone destined to ascend the throne. Without any significant war experience or accomplishments, Randolph had no right to demand genuine command authority solely based on his title. If he truly wanted that position, he should have either crushed his opposition through sheer force or used cunning strategies to secure it.


    Storming out of a meeting and then returning with an apology? It was a display of weakness that left Michael increasingly disappointed.


    For now, the firm presence of Charles V concealed these flaws. But if anything were to happen to the king, such behavior would become a grave concern for the kingdom.


    Michael pulled himself out of his musings. There was no time to dwell on the future of the kingdom; immediate matters demanded his attention.


    As supreme commander, Michael''s first actions were to review the soldiers'' training and inspect the traps laid outside the fortress.


    While his appointment as commander drew grumbles from the central nobles of Lania, no one dared openly voice dissent against the young man flanked by a dragon and a sphinx.


    Even so, the disarray in military discipline and the hushed murmurs among the troops reflected the unrest. Michael knew that brute force alone wouldn''t resolve this situation.


    Once again, he decided to employ a strategy that had worked before: offering opportunities for glory to win over the nobles.


    Having successfully integrated Elonian aristocrats into his command by giving them meaningful roles, Michael was confident he could do the same here.


    The announcement of a new special operations unit sparked excitement among nobles whose offspring hadn''t been selected for the original task force.


    The first special task force had focused heavily on individual combat skills, leading many noble heirs to be disqualified. Others had been held back by their families, who deemed the unconventional unit too dangerous.


    But things were different this time.


    The success of the first task force had been monumental, with an exceptionally high survival rate. Most members had returned alive, save for a few unlucky individuals. Additionally, the selection criteria for the new unit were less stringent, drawing a flood of applicants.

 Chapter 172 - 172 An Ensemble Of Golden Spoon Knights.

    In a world where non knights received little recognition, nobles were desperate to elevate their heirs. Many resorted to feeding their children rare elixirs or growth stimulants to awaken their latent auras, producing barely competent knights.


    Had the Crassus family possessed sufficient funds, they might have turned Lincoln into a knight as well. But the cost of such treatments was equivalent to that of an entire castle, far beyond what the family could afford in the past.


    Standing on a platform, Michael observed the noble scions laughing and chatting before him. Each had undergone training that cost as much as a castle, hailing from wealthy families concentrated in the central regions of Lania.


    Yet, despite their artificially awakened auras, their abilities were underwhelming. Unlike Louis, the youngest son of Count Charles, who had used a growth stimulant but achieved true knighthood through relentless effort, these individuals showed no such dedication. They were more interested in leisure than discipline.


    At least their families'' wealth ensured they were well equipped, which was a small consolation.


    The new unit, named the Special Task Force, became a parade of privilege¡ªan ensemble of golden spoon knights.


    Designed to foster aristocratic unity, the unit''s primary objective was to provide these nobles with just enough success to appease their egos. Still, Michael ensured they underwent adequate training to function as a military force.


    The veterans of the first task force, seeing this as an opportunity to "train" their juniors, enthusiastically took on the task.


    That night, the vast training grounds of Orlando Fortress echoed with the wails of noble born knights as their rigorous training stretched late into the night.


    Michael stood before a scaled down model of Orlando Fortress and its surrounding terrain.


    The model was one of the artifacts crafted by Leonardo, who had arrived days earlier, laden with items Michael had requested. Small flags were embedded in the model, each enchanted to display the movements and formations of different armies.


    Designed to facilitate tactical planning, the artifact exceeded Michael''s expectations. Satisfied, he picked up a flag representing the newly formed Special Task Force and planted it near the fortress on the model.


    The Special Task Force had completed their training the previous evening under the guidance of the task force instructors. Now it was time to test their readiness and mobility. Michael, after much deliberation, decided to send them on a reconnaissance mission around the fortress.


    While there was a slight risk of encountering the vanguard of the Pamir Imperial Army, the likelihood was low. To ensure safety, Michael planned to accompany the force personally, confident that his presence would guarantee the mission''s success.


    With his decision made, Michael rose from his seat. Miaomiao, who had been napping beside his bed, followed him. As Markus also prepared to stand, Michael stopped him.


    "It''s fine, Markus. I''ll be taking the Special Task Force to scout the area. We''ll be riding, so take a break," Michael said.


    Assessing the task force''s mobility required Michael to ride alongside them. Unlike the original Special Operations Unit, which included beast mounted warriors, the members of the new task force served as cavalry.


    Since most of the Special Task Force members had not bonded with magical beasts, they relied on horses. Still, their role as cavalry gave the unit a distinct advantage.


    These noble born knights, accustomed to privilege, all owned exceptional steeds. Many rode the famed Pamir Mountain horses, known for their speed. With such mounts, the Special Task Force could excel in their duties.


    Before the task force''s departure, Crown Prince Randolph came to see them off. Unlike his earlier outbursts during the meeting, he now conducted himself as a proper crown prince.


    Though his true feelings remained a mystery, he stood alongside Princess Elise, who offered encouragement to the soldiers. The affection in Randolph''s gaze toward Elise indicated her efforts to support him had not been in vain.


    The noble families, eager to see their offspring succeed, also gathered to bid farewell. S~ea??h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Although it was a minor mission to scout the fortress vicinity, the nobles, aware of their children''s limitations, took every precaution. In Elonia''s case, the concern over their children''s safety had even led a coalition of nobles to send 1,000 soldiers to accompany the task force.


    It was gratifying to see the efforts to integrate these previously uncooperative nobles paying off. Many had invested personal funds to provide their children with equipment and skilled escorts.


    Even the once hostile central nobles of Lania appeared more at ease, realizing Michael had no intention of monopolizing glory. As long as they cooperated, he was more than willing to share the spotlight.


    Michael was equally pleased. His strategy of including these privileged yet underperforming heirs in the task force was yielding results. Sometimes, practicality was the wisest course of action.


    While Michael possessed exceptional abilities, hoarding achievements would only breed resentment. By involving others and allowing them to share in success, he could cement alliances and expand his influence.


    If this mission went smoothly, the nobles'' heirs would gain accolades, further solidifying their families'' support for Michael.


    As the morning sun climbed higher, the Special Task Force and their accompanying 1,000 soldiers began their march.


    For their first mission, the task force moved with flawless precision, their formation unmarred by even the slightest error.


    Michael couldn''t help but smile as he watched the sunlight glint off their polished armor. The sight of the disciplined procession filled him with pride.


    The task force''s impeccable display reassured both Michael and the nobles, who had been skeptical of their children''s transformation.


    The soldiers provided by Elonia, though less polished, marched with commendable composure, living up to their reputation as an elite contingent.


    Buoyed by the sight of the unified force and the cheerful send-off, Michael left the fortress in high spirits.


    His growing reputation was evident in how others now regarded him with respect and admiration. While he knew better than to become complacent, it was undeniably satisfying to receive such recognition.

 Chapter 173 - 173 Reconnaissance Force Of The Five Great Tribes

    Who wouldn''t appreciate genuine respect and admiration? Michael wasn''t a materialistic man, but neither was he a lofty idealist.


    Amid the calm atmosphere, Michael turned to Andrew, the commander of the Special Task Force, and offered a word of caution.


    "This is a reconnaissance mission around the fortress. There''s little chance of danger, but we can''t afford to be careless. Stay vigilant; the Pamir Imperial Army''s vanguard could still appear," Michael advised.


    Andrew, his expression tense, nodded earnestly. As the youngest son of Duke Capone, he had long fallen short of his father''s expectations. Now, under Michael''s command, he hoped to redeem himself as the commander of the task force.


    "Yes, Sir. Both the task force and the soldiers are on high alert. This is an opportunity to demonstrate the results of our training, and we''ll give it our all," Andrew assured him.


    Michael avoided Andrew''s burning gaze, his smile tinged with bittersweetness. He knew these young nobles would likely never see true battle.


    "Good. That''s the right attitude. But don''t overthink it. Treat this as an opportunity to get to know each other better¡ªit''s only the first mission, after all," Michael said.


    Behind Andrew, Sir Adam interjected with a bright grin.


    "But wouldn''t it be incredible if we encountered and defeated the Pamir Imperial Army''s vanguard? It would be a chance to prove ourselves and earn great honor! I can''t wait to test our training in a real fight," Adam declared, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight.


    Adam, a notorious troublemaker, had been reluctantly included by his father, General Louis. Yet, despite his initial resistance, Adam had come to enjoy the camaraderie and sense of accomplishment the training provided.


    Michael chuckled at Adam''s enthusiasm, recognizing the general''s carefree attitude in his son''s exuberant remarks.


    "Indeed. If such a situation arises, be ready to show your bravery," Michael replied with a smile.


    Pamir Imperial Camp


    It had been half a day since the armies dispatched by the various tribes of the Pamir Empire had gathered. Despite their full assembly, the offensive had yet to commence. The reason was simple: too many leaders led to discord.


    Even during peacetime, the tribes bickered endlessly over territorial disputes and resources. Now, with diverging priorities, they couldn''t even agree on the direction of their advance.


    Crown Prince Oswald, the nominal commander of the united forces, remained in the central command tent. Yet, none of the tribal chiefs acknowledged his authority, largely due to his reputation as a libertine.


    The Lion''s Mane Tribe and the Fire Boar Tribe advocated for an attack on East Fortress. They argued it was critical to focus their forces there to preempt the reinforcements from the Radiant Holy Kingdom.


    In truth, their insistence stemmed from anger toward the kingdom for promising aid but failing to deliver. They didn''t know the food supplies had been intercepted by Michael''s pirates.


    On the other hand, the Black Hawk Tribe and the Stone Bear Tribe pushed for an assault on Orlando Fortress. Unlike other fortresses, which had been taken or heavily attacked, Orlando Fortress had repelled the allied tribes'' advances due to Michael''s decisive actions.


    Kanta, the Lion''s Mane chieftain, scoffed at their arguments.


    "Hah! It''s not about strategy. You just want to rescue your captured tribesmen."


    Kisha, the Red Serpent chieftain and a longtime rival of the Stone Bear Tribe, added mockingly, "Why bother with weaklings like them? Sacrificing a few captives is better for the tribe''s future. Losing 200 warriors because 300 couldn''t handle themselves? What a disgrace."


    Yandor, the Stone Bear chieftain, clenched his trembling fists. His youngest son, Karato, was among the captives. The shame stung as much as the worry.


    Falcon, the Black Hawk chieftain, stepped in to support Yandor.


    "Enough! Now''s not the time for blame. We should cut down that brat Michael before he becomes more of a threat."


    The aggressive Fire Boar chieftain, Petan, snorted derisively.


    "I''d like to see what makes him so special. Either way, I don''t care where we go. Let''s see how my tusks fare against him."


    With that, the chiefs resumed their squabbling.


    From his seat of honor, Crown Prince Oswald massaged his temples. The bickering had been going on for hours. None of them would yield an inch.


    This was precisely why the Pamir Empire, despite its vast territory and population, had failed to conquer the Rubel Continent.


    Repeated invasions meant nothing if the tribes withdrew their forces the moment they secured some benefit, fearing further losses. If they could unite and commit to a proper campaign, the Three-Nation Alliance would pose no challenge.


    Instead, they remained paralyzed by fear of losing influence or falling from the ranks of the Five Great Tribes.


    Unable to endure the infighting any longer, Oswald finally shouted.


    "Enough! That''s enough! We can''t delay our decision any further. Intelligence reports that the enemy''s reinforcements will soon arrive at their fortresses. Do you want to retreat again with only minor gains? I have a proposition that should interest everyone."


    The chiefs fell silent, their attention on Oswald.


    He knew his reputation as a libertine was holding him back. But if he intended to defy his father, he needed to prove himself competent.


    "I recommend attacking Orlando Fortress. Both the Lania and Elonia crown princes are stationed there, along with two beautiful princesses. On top of that, the Lania crown prince is so arrogant he hasn''t even requested reinforcements. I don''t believe this Michael is as formidable as you think. His victories are thanks to ambush tactics and the aid of a dragon and sphinx. If we take Orlando Fortress and capture the crown princes, the rewards will be immeasurable. The princesses are a bonus."


    Yandor nodded approvingly, and the other chiefs reluctantly agreed.


    Though each chief was capable in their own right, a compelling argument was all it took to align their interests.


    After further discussion, they agreed to send an initial reconnaissance force. Members were drawn from the Five Great Tribes and the broader allied forces.


    Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 174 - 174 Reconnaissance and Preparation for Battle

    Distrust among the tribes prevented them from committing to a full-scale attack. Instead, they opted for a cautious, defensive approach to assess the situation.


    Each tribe withheld its elite warriors, cleverly disguising their intentions. The reconnaissance force, though large in number, consisted mostly of expendable soldiers.


    Falcon whispered to his advisor, "Did you make sure to pull out our elites? These people are all schemers; we can''t trust them. It''s enough to keep up appearances. The chance of the vanguard encountering the enemy is slim, anyway."


    The advisor replied quietly, "They''ll just scout near the fortress and return. That''s the best we can hope for."


    Falcon nodded grimly. His tribe had always borne the brunt of reconnaissance duties due to their wings. As a result, they had suffered heavy losses to enemy magical beasts. He had no intention of letting his tribe continue to be exploited.


    Had Oswald been more experienced, he might have inspected the troops more thoroughly. Instead, he naively assumed the tribes had provided their best soldiers and was content with their apparent cooperation.


    The distance between the Pamir camp and Orlando Fortress was approximately 50 kilometers. By the time the vanguard returned from their reconnaissance, they would have reached within 10 kilometers of the fortress.


    The vanguard comprised 7,000 soldiers from the allied tribes. Their expressions were uniformly grim.


    One Black Hawk soldier tightened the straps of his armor, avoiding eye contact with the Fire Boar soldiers nearby.


    "Being stuck with those brute pigs¡­ I fear them more than the enemy."


    The Fire Boar soldiers, sharpening their axes, sneered in turn.


    "What do we do with these cowardly crows? If they don''t flee at the first sight of danger, it''ll be a miracle."


    Similar scenes played out across the ranks, mistrust palpable in every interaction. Nevertheless, the vanguard set off.


    Oswald watched their departure, a strange unease settling in his chest.


    Why did he feel so uneasy?


    Michael led a force of 2,000 soldiers composed of the Special Detached Unit, their squires and bodyguards, and the soldiers dispatched by Elonia. Riding atop Bucephalus, Michael relished the wind sweeping across the plains, a refreshing change amidst the war. S§×arch* The N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    However, the sense of freedom was fleeting as his reason reminded him of his responsibility. Leading an inexperienced unit demanded caution.


    "Knights, check the armor on yourselves and your horses. If anyone neglects their attire due to heat or discomfort, I''ll personally see to their punishment. Soldiers, group yourselves in units of ten and remain vigilant of your surroundings," he ordered.


    Once he confirmed the troops were following his instructions, Michael called for Andrew.


    "Sir Andrew, organize the knights into five teams and have them scout the vicinity within a 10-kilometer radius. Be vigilant; we may encounter the vanguard of the Pamir Imperial forces."


    Michael believed it was better to over-prepare than to be caught off guard. As soon as he finished speaking, Sir Adam''s cheerful voice broke the seriousness.


    "Your Excellency, we haven''t even moved 10 kilometers from the fortress yet. Isn''t it too early to worry?"


    Annoyed by the foolish comment, Michael suppressed his irritation. He noticed that many knights seemed to share Adam''s sentiment and decided to emphasize the gravity of the situation. Fixing a sharp gaze on Adam, Michael interrupted him mid-sentence.


    "Sir Adam. We are in a state of war. Surely, you''re aware of the consequences of neglecting vigilance in wartime? Remember, you have only one life. Have you not heard what the Lion''s Mane Tribe does to captives?"


    Adam''s face turned pale. The Lion''s Mane Tribe, known for their lion-like transformation, had a reputation for roasting and eating their prisoners.


    As Michael''s words reverberated through the ranks, the knights gulped nervously, envisioning their grim fates if captured. Determined not to let such a fate befall them, the knights quickly formed teams and began their reconnaissance.


    Michael positioned himself atop a nearby hill, making it easy for the scouts to locate him. Time passed before a knight, his face pale with urgency, rode back at full speed.


    "Your Excellency! Approximately 15 kilometers ahead, we''ve spotted the vanguard of the Imperial forces. Their exact numbers are uncertain, but they''re at least several thousand strong!"


    Michael sighed, his premonition of trouble proving correct yet again. He asked the scout, "Were you detected?"


    The knight''s reply was quick and firm.


    "Absolutely not, Your Excellency! I observed the dust clouds from afar and approached cautiously."


    The clarity and decisiveness of the knight''s response reassured Michael. Turning to Miaomiao, who was lazily licking her paw nearby, he spoke.


    "Miaomiao, come with me to assess the enemy''s strength and composition."


    The sphinx readily agreed, understanding the potential for extra gold from these special missions.


    [Alright. Leave that dumb horse behind and ride on my back.]


    Bucephalus snorted indignantly, pawing at the ground in frustration, but fell silent under Miaomiao''s sharp glare.


    "I''ll conduct reconnaissance. Prepare for battle in my absence," Michael instructed.


    Before the knights could respond, Miaomiao leaped into action, her speed blurring her form as she vanished from sight with Michael on her back.


    As the enemy forces came into view, Michael asked Miaomiao to ascend into the skies. The high vantage point, combined with a concealment spell that enveloped them in mist, allowed them to observe undetected. From below, they would appear as nothing more than a passing cloud.


    Enhanced by his innate magic, Michael''s vision surpassed human limits. From above, he could clearly discern the composition and numbers of the enemy forces.


    The Imperial forces'' formation was disorganized, their soldiers ill-equipped and mismatched. Though the banners of the Five Great Tribes were scattered among them, the soldiers'' weak builds and unfocused gazes suggested they were far from elite.


    Estimating their numbers to be around 7,000, Michael carefully surveyed the area for additional units but found none. It appeared the Empire had deployed a reconnaissance force drawn from various tribes.


    ''So, they''ve sent these troops to scout the area and establish a foothold,'' Michael mused.


    The distance between the Imperial forces and the Special Detached Unit was now approximately 15 kilometers. Reflecting on past victories, such as defeating 3,000 Stone Bear warriors with only 300 soldiers, Michael felt confident in his 2,000-strong force''s chances against this disorganized opposition.


    Returning to the waiting knights, Michael prepared to outline his strategy.

 Chapter 175 - 175 The Cavalry Charge

    Back at the Camp


    "Your Excellency, which tribes comprise the Imperial forces? And what are their numbers?" Sir Andrew asked, his face tense with worry. The gathered knights, too, appeared visibly uneasy.


    Michael removed his helmet and addressed them calmly.


    "Do not worry. The Imperial forces ahead consist of approximately 7,000 soldiers. Their formation is chaotic, and their equipment is inconsistent. They''re nothing more than a ragtag group. With your abilities, victory is well within reach. Follow my orders, and we will triumph!" Sear?h the n??el Fire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    His composed and reassuring tone steadied the knights, and their unease dissipated.


    Satisfied with their restored morale, Michael began organizing the forces. The Special Detached Unit numbered 530, but with squires and bodyguards included, their total reached 1,000.


    "Form into your pre-assigned groups and await further orders. The soldiers will integrate into your units. Special Detached Unit knights, mount your horses and follow me!"


    Given the flat terrain, Michael planned to utilize cavalry for the main offensive. Gripping his bow, he observed the dust clouds in the distance as the enemy approached.


    Just as in previous battles, the strategy was to disrupt the enemy by eliminating their leaders, sowing chaos among their ranks.


    Meanwhile, the vanguard of the Imperial forces continued their tedious march, unaware of the 2,000-strong force waiting ahead. The plains stretched endlessly before them, offering no cover or shade. The Elonia forces'' scorched-earth tactics had left the area devoid of resources, even water.


    "Damn them! They''re trying to cook us alive!" one soldier grumbled.


    Another complained, "It''s so hot. Where''s the water, supply officer? Give me more!"


    The supply officer hesitated, constrained by the tight control of resources by the Five Great Tribes.


    The supply officer, under mounting pressure, explained, "I was instructed to distribute water to the soldiers of the Five Great Tribes first. Only after that may I divide the remaining supplies."


    One frustrated soldier snapped, "The Five Great Tribes? They''re barely 2,000 strong and all positioned far behind us! Shouldn''t those of us here, in immediate need, receive water first?"


    Grumbling spread through the ranks, as most soldiers silently nodded in agreement. But the supply officer could only shrug helplessly.


    "The orders are as they stand. If you wish, you can go and request permission from the leaders behind us. Otherwise, I can''t do anything more."


    Naturally, no one volunteered to walk back and beg for a mere canteen''s worth of water. The thought of returning with nothing but humiliation made such an option even less appealing.


    As the murmuring soldiers backed down, the officer attempted to placate them. "I understand your frustration, but the military code is strict. Please conserve what you have, as best as you can. We have limited supplies left, and we must also prepare for the return journey."


    The logic was sound, albeit cold comfort. Complaining further would only worsen the dryness in their throats.


    Despite their grumblings, the soldiers resumed their tiresome march under the unrelenting sun. The vanguard of the scouting force, lacking coordination and leadership, allowed discipline to crumble. The leaders from the Five Great Tribes remained far behind, strolling leisurely.


    Several tribal commanders attempted to rally their troops, but it was like pouring water on sand. Morale remained low, and vigilance was nonexistent.


    One commander, however, glanced upward, noticing a fleeting shadow pass over the ground.


    "What was that...?"


    The thought ended as abruptly as his life when sharp claws slashed his throat.


    The surprise attack spread quickly through the ranks as commanders were felled one after another¡ªsome with arrows through their foreheads, others with their throats cut. Soldiers erupted into chaos.


    Some transformed out of panic, but their partial animalistic shifts were pitifully weak. Their abilities, diluted through generations, amounted to little more than a few sharpened teeth or patches of coarse fur.


    Watching from a distant hill, Michael fired arrow after arrow, his aim unerring. Each shaft claimed a leader, sending ripples of fear through the enemy ranks.


    Michael''s immense physical strength, enhanced by magic, allowed him to fire at exceptional range with deadly precision. His magical bow and the enchanted armor acquired from the ancient temple gave him an edge that seemed almost unfair.


    Meanwhile, Miaomiao tore through the ranks of the Five Great Tribes, killing their commanders with ruthless efficiency.


    [Trash. All of you are nothing but trash!] she sneered as she eliminated another leader.


    Even those attempting to summon ancestral powers to fight back found themselves no match for the coordinated attacks of Michael and Miaomiao. The transformed warriors, far from intimidating, became easy targets.


    As the two withdrew after decimating the enemy leadership, chaos and terror rippled through the remaining soldiers.


    The remnants of the vanguard¡ªbereft of leadership and direction¡ªmilled about in disarray.


    Escape was futile on the open plains, where every path offered little cover. Nonetheless, one veteran soldier among them attempted to take charge, rallying the others.


    "Regroup! We need to retreat immediately! Michael will surely return to the fortress to bring reinforcements, but that will take time. Let''s retreat and use the gap to our advantage!"


    It was, effectively, a call for retreat¡ªa desperate attempt to flee. But their withdrawal ended before it began.


    Back at his position, Michael had already issued orders.


    "Special Detached Unit, follow me for a direct charge! Infantry, encircle the area and ensure no one escapes. These enemies hold no value as prisoners¡ªkill them all!"


    In wartime, mercy was a luxury few could afford. Michael''s forces, clad in shining armor, mounted their warhorses, and prepared to charge.


    Michael himself climbed atop Bucephalus, leaving Miaomiao to rest. His piercing gaze swept across his forces as they formed ranks.


    The infantry, alongside the support personnel, began constructing an encirclement. With the enemy trapped, Michael signaled the charge.


    The cavalry thundered into the disorganized enemy, their lances striking down everything in their path. The charge was devastating.


    Panicked soldiers attempted to fight back, but they might as well have been hurling pebbles at a war machine. The cavalry tore through the enemy lines with precision, scattering them like leaves before a storm.

 Chapter 176 - 176 The Battle

    Even the Special Detached Unit¡ªinitially anxious about their abilities¡ªfound newfound confidence as they witnessed the enemy crumble under their assault.


    A few Imperial soldiers attempted to escape, only to find the encircling infantry waiting to cut them down.


    The battle concluded in a decisive victory. The field was littered with the bodies of Imperial soldiers, while Michael''s forces emerged largely unscathed.


    The battlefield left in the wake of the one-sided combat was nothing short of devastating. The wide plain was strewn with trampled grass and hoof marks, while countless crushed bodies lay scattered everywhere. The grim scene evoked a profound sense of life''s transience.


    Standing before the mass of corpses created under his command, Michael silently prayed for their souls. Perhaps it could be called hypocrisy, but someone had to shoulder the burden. The reason he didn''t voice his prayers was simple: as the supreme commander, showing sympathy for the enemy could weaken his army''s morale.


    After silently paying his respects to the fallen, Michael turned his attention to rallying his soldiers. The corpses needed to be gathered and burned to prevent the spread of disease. Soldiers and knights, regardless of rank, threw themselves into the grim task with fervor. Their camaraderie, forged in the heat of battle, drove them to work as one.


    Despite his desire to ease their burden by using the weather manipulation ability he had acquired from Babalu, Michael held himself back. Such intervention could disrupt the burning process. Under the blazing sun, the soldiers panted as they dug trenches and carried bodies. Occasionally, a gentle breeze passed by, but it was of little help. Instead, it stirred up dust, which found its way into their mouths and noses, further hindering their efforts.


    The knights suffered even more. Moving in gear caked with dirt and dust was a torment in itself. Yet wearing armor was essential during such operations, as no one could rule out the possibility of surviving enemies lying in wait for an opportunity.


    Exhausted soldiers collapsed at a distance from the blazing pyres, the heat and fatigue leaving them gasping for breath. Hands busily reached for water canteens scattered around. Quartermasters darted to and fro, distributing water to those in need.


    Once Michael confirmed that the fire had taken hold within the deep trenches, he decided it was safe to use his weather manipulation ability. He had tested it on an empty plain before, and the ability''s range extended to a 100-meter radius for about 30 minutes. It required six hours to recharge, but no immediate reuse seemed necessary.


    Michael approached the detachment soldiers, who had to ride in full plate armor. Their gear was drenched in sweat and dust, and they radiated heat from head to toe. After enduring a battle in heavy armor and then digging trenches under the scorching sun, they were utterly drained. Without rest, they risked dehydration or heatstroke. Yet vigilance against potential threats was paramount.


    Scanning the detachment, Michael noticed a few soldiers whose armor bore no trace of dust. "Everyone, remove your armor and rest for a while. Those wearing breathable enchanted armor will accompany me for reconnaissance."


    Magically enchanted armor, while expensive, was not excessively rare. The Crassus family, for instance, had outfitted all their knights with it. Though Michael''s own armor was of royal caliber, enchanted armor offering improved ventilation and defense was relatively accessible.


    As expected, about half of the detachment stepped forward. Among them were 50 knights and squires. Those who remained began loosening the straps of their armor, casting envious glances at the privileged few. Although common enough, the price of enchanted armor was anything but trivial. The fact that more than half of the detachment possessed it spoke volumes about their noble lineage. S§×arch* The n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    While the enchanted armor wearers mounted their horses, the clatter of heavy armor hitting the ground echoed around them. Squires assisted knights in removing their armor and then turned to tend to the horses, gently patting their exhausted mounts as they removed the gear. The horses, too, were breathing heavily.


    Meanwhile, the regular soldiers stripped off their leather armor, baring their sweat-drenched chests. One soldier, his face flushed from the heat, murmured in gratitude for having a sensible commander. Sweat trickled down his reddened chest.


    "It''s lucky we have a commander with common sense," he said. "I''ve served under a fool before¡ªhe stayed cool in his enchanted armor while yelling at us for loosening ours in the heat, saying it was undisciplined."


    Another soldier, struggling to open his canteen with trembling hands, chuckled weakly. "Sounds familiar. Either we served under the same idiot, or there''s more than one out there. Our commander''s called a great leader for a reason. Even small acts of consideration like this make all the difference."


    A third soldier, shaking dirt out of his leather boots, chimed in. "Exactly. Look at him¡ªtaking only those with enchanted armor for reconnaissance. Other commanders just sit back barking orders, but ours steps into battle himself to reduce casualties. It feels like he sees us as equals."


    The soldiers all deeply respected Michael. Composed of seasoned veterans, they recognized his exceptional qualities as a commander. Though he might appear stern, every one of his orders reflected careful consideration for his troops and sound logic. This respect for their efforts and well-being was a novel experience for many of them.


    As the heat of summer intensified, the plain baked under relentless sunlight. At best, a faint breeze occasionally swept through. Michael, standing beside his feline companion Miaomiao, spoke quietly.


    "Miaomiao, I''m going to use the weather manipulation ability I gained earlier. Make it look like magic so no one suspects."


    The perceptive Miaomiao rose, her sleek black fur shimmering in the sunlight. "[Understood. I''ll pretend to cast a spell for you.]"


    Michael smiled and nodded. He stood behind Miaomiao, closed his eyes, and focused on summoning his ability. Imagining a refreshing breeze infused with a hint of coolness, he concentrated. Soon, a soothing wind began to blow within a 100-meter radius.

 Chapter 177 - 177 The Conclusion of the Battle

    Miaomiao played her part, chanting a mock incantation. "[Ventus Veni, Vis tua invoca!!]"


    Miaomiao rose to her hind legs, stretching her paws skyward. It might have resembled a cat reaching for a butterfly, but in her imposing sphinx form, the posture carried a majestic weight.


    The weary soldiers, startled by the sudden gust of wind, lifted their heads. Before them stood the sphinx, her paws outstretched toward the sky as she chanted a spell. Cool wind, tinged with a refreshing chill, swept over them, banishing the oppressive heat and instantly drying their sweat.


    "Wow, a first-class magical beast really is something else. Great job!" a few soldiers cheered, waving their hands toward her in encouragement.


    Miaomiao, suppressing the rising irritation at being reduced to a "beast" in their eyes, bit back her retort. Dealing with these ignorant humans wasn''t worth the effort; grooming her fur seemed a better use of her time. Sitting down, she wrapped her tail around herself and enjoyed the breeze. The soldiers'' cheers weren''t entirely unpleasant, though.


    Meanwhile, Michael continued his reconnaissance with 300 knights, surveying the area for any remaining threats. In his absence, the soldiers relished the cool wind that alleviated the stifling heat. Though the sun still blazed overhead, the breeze was enough to soothe their exhaustion.


    They chewed on the jerky rationed before the campaign, washing it down with water while exchanging lighthearted conversations. Slowly, the tension and fatigue from the battle began to dissipate.


    After 30 minutes, the wind started to subside, though the lingering coolness still wrapped around them. Eventually, Michael and the knights returned from their patrol. Despite the grueling battle, the disposal of enemy corpses, and the extended reconnaissance, the knights'' faces glowed with anticipation and excitement.


    Michael allowed them a break, distributing jerky and water. The knights dismounted, sharing laughs as they tore into the jerky and patted one another on the back. Their laughter echoed across the plain.


    When enough time had passed, Michael mounted his horse, Bucephalus, and addressed the troops. All eyes turned to him.


    "The 7,000-strong reconnaissance force sent by the Pamir Empire included members of their five great tribes. We''ve annihilated them all without suffering any casualties. This is a monumental victory. When we return to the fortress, everyone will receive their due rewards. Now, rise and prepare to march!"


    The soldiers and knights, who had been resting, erupted into cheers. They quickly donned their armor, their faces now brimming with confidence. Unlike when they had first set out, their spirits were high after achieving such unexpected results during what was meant to be a routine patrol. Following Michael''s command had proven worthwhile.


    For the members of the elite detachment, the victory brought an even greater sense of joy. Many had lived under the shadow of more accomplished peers or family members. One knight, with the help of his squire, fastened his armor and spoke up.


    "My mother always sighed whenever she looked at me, constantly comparing me to my cousin. I wonder what expression she''ll make when I come home after this achievement."


    Another knight, inspecting his armor for any damage, nodded in agreement. "Same here. Don''t even get me started. My father outright said he was relieved I wasn''t the heir to the family. A sigh would''ve been mercy compared to that."


    A third knight, securing the clasps on his boots, laughed as he straightened up. The heavy weight of comparison and inferiority that had always burdened him seemed to lift. "I can''t wait to see the look on my brother''s face when he hears about this victory. Just thinking about it gives me a thrill."


    Under Michael''s command, their morale soared to new heights. Though the enemy they defeated wasn''t the elite force of the Pamir Empire, a victory was a victory. Combined with the elite background of the special detachment, a few more accomplishments like this would likely earn them their own estates.


    The soldiers, too, shared in the elation. While they knew becoming nobility overnight was impossible, the reward gold promised opportunities¡ªenough to buy fertile farmland or secure a prosperous future.


    "If I get a reward for this, I''ll buy a beautiful ring and propose to Cordelia," one young soldier said dreamily, his face still marked with traces of youthful acne. Despite his tender age, he had survived three wars. Having lost his parents early, he joined the army and fought desperately to survive. Now, he was ready to start a family.


    The soldier beside him patted his shoulder. "If you''re thinking about buying a ring, you must already have the land and house sorted, huh? Lucky guy. I''m planning to expand my house. My wife''s pregnant with our third child, and the place we have now isn''t nearly big enough. My kids are going to grow up in a better environment than I did."


    The man''s eyes shone with hope for his children''s future, a future much brighter than his own.


    Overhearing these conversations with his heightened senses, Michael couldn''t help but smile. The special detachment, though recruited from noble families, had a lively and human side to them that set them apart from the stiff elites of the main forces. Their camaraderie and optimism were refreshing, and Michael thought they wouldn''t be bad companions for the battles ahead.


    The soldiers from Ellonia, assigned by noble families to support the detachment, had also proven their worth. As veterans, they worked seamlessly alongside the knights and squires, fulfilling their roles admirably. Listening to their chatter, Michael felt a surge of pride. Knowing that his leadership inspired such trust and achievement eased some of the guilt that lingered in his heart.


    No matter how resolute he tried to be, the knowledge that lives hung on his decisions was never easy to bear. Yet hearing the troops'' plans for the future reassured him that his path was not misguided. Even so, Michael steeled himself for the battles to come.


    Worried that their soaring morale might lead to complacency, Michael adopted a sterner expression and spoke with gravity. "The enemy reconnaissance unit coming this close means a major battle is imminent at the fortress. Everyone, prepare yourselves."


    The lighthearted mood darkened as reality sank in. The soldiers'' expressions grew serious. Indeed, the war was far from over. It was only beginning. S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 178 - 178 Great Victory

    A messenger sent by Michael entered the fortress with the flag held high, exuding an air of confidence. Soldiers gathered near the supply station for their evening meal turned their attention to the messenger''s booming announcement. The bustling fortress fell silent, the messenger''s voice reverberating through the air.


    "Urgent report! The special detachment led by Count Michael von Crassus, along with 2,000 soldiers, encountered the enemy vanguard during reconnaissance and annihilated them without a single casualty on our side! They are currently returning to the fortress. Additionally, be prepared, as the enemy is expected to arrive within a day!"


    The messenger''s powerful voice reached every corner of the fortress. Soldiers eating their rationed dinners in groups paused, and nobles enjoying their refined meals inside the fortress peeked out in curiosity.


    Duke Capone looked up in disbelief, his spoon dropping to the floor with a clatter. "Did my youngest just achieve a military feat?"


    The other nobles, who had also placed their children in the special detachment, were equally astonished. Parents knew the limits of their children. They had sent them off with the hope they would merely return alive from reconnaissance, yet now they were hearing of a victory. Their initial confusion soon gave way to pride, smiles spreading across their faces. The more adept a noble, the quicker they masked their surprise with expressions of delight.


    A victory was still a victory, even if it had been won by chance. The nobles began to move swiftly. With their previously unremarkable offspring now basking in glory, they had to embellish the achievement, ensuring it was magnified.


    Thanks to their efforts, the sound of victory horns echoed throughout the entire fortress of Orlando. Judging by the celebratory atmosphere, one might have thought the war had been decisively won.


    When Michael entered the fortress with his knights, exhausted from battle, he was taken aback. Flags fluttered everywhere, military bands played drums and horns, and soldiers lined the streets, cheering and waving banners.


    The preemptive dispatch of a messenger had been worth it. What might have been considered a routine skirmish had been turned into a grand event by the nobles eager to promote their children.


    Pamir Empire Camp


    In the camp of the Pamir Empire, Crown Prince Oswald''s command tent glowed brightly in the dark, illuminated by magical lanterns. The unique milky-white light of the lanterns reached every corner of the massive tent.


    Seated at a large wooden table, the crown prince was busily poring over maps and supply reports. His hands moved swiftly over the documents until they abruptly stopped, and he began tapping the table. The realization dawned on him¡ªthere had been no word from the reconnaissance unit dispatched earlier.


    Oswald shook a gilded bell, summoning his guard stationed outside the tent. A tall, silver-haired man entered swiftly and knelt before him.


    "Kahut, is there still no news from the tribal alliance unit sent on reconnaissance?"


    The guard, his face reflecting both respect and apprehension, responded, "Your Highness, I regret to inform you that there is no news yet."


    Deep lines formed on Oswald''s forehead. This was unusual. After a moment of contemplation, he made a decision. "Go to the chieftain of the Black Hawk Tribe and tell him to select an elite team to search for the reconnaissance unit."


    Kahut hesitated. The Black Hawk Tribe had been reluctant to send their elites into reconnaissance missions after suffering repeated losses. It was well known that they had refused further deployments. Summoning his courage, Kahut spoke up.


    "Your Highness, the Black Hawk Tribe has maintained their stance of not dispatching any more elites for reconnaissance. Too many of their best have already failed to return."


    A flicker of anger flashed in Oswald''s eyes, but he quickly suppressed it, his practiced patience prevailing. He took a deep breath, recognizing that venting his frustration on Kahut would achieve nothing.


    "Then convey my request for the Black Hawk chieftain to come to my tent," he said evenly.


    Though Oswald''s tone was calm, Kahut felt a chill run down his spine. The once frivolous crown prince had become an intimidating presence. Bowing deeply, Kahut replied, "By your command, Your Highness!" and hurriedly exited the tent.


    As Oswald watched him leave, he placed a hand on his forehead. A throbbing pain hammered at his temples, as if someone were striking an anvil in his skull.


    A soft touch on his temple startled him. It was Carlton, his trusted mage, who had appeared silently and began massaging the crown prince''s temples. Carlton''s low voice offered words of comfort.


    "Do not overburden yourself, Your Highness. I fear for your health."


    Oswald, eyes closed and head leaned back, murmured, "The headaches are unbearable." His voice, tinged with exhaustion, grew softer.


    "They only care about the safety of their own tribes," he said with a sigh. "None of them can see the bigger picture."


    Carlton remained silent for a moment before offering a measured response. "Once, they were the pillars of the Empire''s strength. But over time, they''ve become obsessed with preserving their bloodlines." Sear?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Oswald''s thoughts turned bitterly to the five great tribes, their obstinate chieftains, and their unyielding ways. Descendants of beastfolk, their obsession with lineage was beyond comprehension. Those with purer bloodlines could fully transform into beastly forms, while those with diluted bloodlines barely managed to sprout excessive fur. The disparities between tribes grew, with the strong withdrawing and the weak pushed to the frontlines, perpetuating a cycle of death and decay.


    If the lower tribes rebelled, it wouldn''t come as a surprise.


    "This won''t do. Drastic measures are needed," Oswald muttered, determined.


    Before he could elaborate, a loud commotion erupted outside the tent. The familiar voice of Falcon, the chieftain of the Black Hawk Tribe, cut through the air.


    "Stop! You need His Highness''s permission to enter!"


    "Step aside! I''ve come by his command!" Falcon barked back.


    Carlton quickly stepped into the shadows. Oswald opened his eyes, shaking his head as the tent''s door was pushed open with force.

 Chapter 179 - 179 Diverging Thoughts

    Falcon strode in, adorned in garments lined with black feathers, his sharp gaze fixed on Oswald. Though his behavior bordered on insubordination, Oswald refrained from rebuking him.


    Raging inside the command tent, Falcon''s voice echoed with anger. "I told you, there will be no more deployment of our elites. Send another tribe instead!"


    Oswald met the Black Hawk chieftain''s fury with a calm, steady gaze. "Falcon, this war is not just your war¡ªit is a war for all of us. Even if reconnaissance forces suffer losses, we must cooperate for the good of the Empire as a whole. Which tribe, if not yours, is equipped for reconnaissance?"


    Grinding his teeth, Falcon retorted, "The elites we''ve lost were the pride of our tribe. Among them were even my own kin! Why must only our tribe make such sacrifices? The other five great tribes must share the burden equally for it to be fair."


    The thought of the fallen elites stoked Falcon''s anger. The Black Hawk Tribe was already the weakest among the five great tribes, and the repeated loss of their finest warriors only worsened their standing. Many had returned as lifeless bodies; others had vanished without a trace, and Falcon held little hope they were still alive.


    In the Pamir Empire, war was constant¡ªeither with other nations or among the tribes themselves. With limited resources, conflict was inevitable. For Falcon, the death of his warriors meant the Black Hawk Tribe''s diminished power, which would leave them vulnerable even after the war ended. He believed the other tribes should suffer equally to maintain balance.


    Oswald responded with measured words. "Falcon, I understand your position, but each tribe has its strengths. The Black Hawk Tribe will be assigned to rear guard duties in the upcoming battles. Meanwhile, tribes that have yet to make significant sacrifices will take the lead in combat. For now, we must all compromise a little."


    Though still visibly agitated, Falcon could not deny the logic in Oswald''s reasoning. Slowly, his anger began to subside. While the loss of their elites was painful, securing a rear guard position for the tribe was a favorable outcome.


    "Fine," Falcon said after a pause. "I''ll consider this settled. I''ll send our elites to scout the situation with the reconnaissance unit. But if you break your promise, our tribe will withdraw from this war."


    Oswald nodded solemnly. "I will not forget the sacrifices your tribe has made. Thank you, Chieftain Falcon."


    Falcon added one final demand. "Before I send out our elites, I need your oath, Your Highness. Swear on the honor of your ancestors and our tribe''s name."


    Falcon''s request was excessive, though understandable from a leader seeking to protect his people. Still, Oswald''s eyes flashed with restrained fury. How dare he! If Falcon had any respect for him, such a demand would have been unthinkable.


    Oswald closed his eyes, forcing himself to suppress his rage. To escape his father''s shadow, this war''s victory was critical. For that, even the arrogant demands of the tribes had to be endured.


    "...I swear," Oswald said at last, his voice tight with controlled anger. "I, Oswald of the White Elephant Tribe, swear on my ancestors'' honor to keep the promises made to the Black Hawk Tribe. Is that sufficient?"


    Falcon''s defiance eased slightly. Without another word, he turned and left the tent. Watching him go, Oswald clenched his fists tightly.


    "At this rate, the Empire will collapse," he muttered to himself. "I must find a way to overthrow my father and set things right."


    Carlton, who had reappeared behind him, spoke softly. "I deeply share Your Highness''s vision."


    The Orlando Fortress


    "Duke Capone, congratulations on your youngest son''s victory," Crown Prince Randolph said cheerfully.


    Though Michael''s rising reputation irritated him, Randolph couldn''t deny that victories under his command were beneficial. After much persuasion from his advisors, he had come to accept that his subordinates'' successes were, by extension, his own. Additionally, his father, Charles V, had recently given a tentative nod to his marriage with Princess Elise, which further lightened his mood.


    Duke Capone, caught off guard, accepted the prince''s congratulations with a polite smile. "Thank you, Your Highness. It is only because of the steadfast support you''ve provided." S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Randolph grinned broadly. "Your advice has been invaluable, Duke."


    The crown prince felt a sense of relief. A newfound camaraderie with a like minded ally meant he didn''t have to mask his true feelings in front of the duke. Surrounded by people lauding Michael''s success and character, Randolph took solace in having someone who shared his perspective.


    Thinking of a recent conversation with another ally, Randolph subtly tested Duke Capone''s thoughts. His frustration at being sidelined in military command had only grown after learning of Michael''s achievements with the special detachment.


    "Even my father, in his youth, led troops into battle," Randolph said, feigning casualness. "Perhaps it wouldn''t be so reckless for me to participate in a limited capacity? Of course, I wouldn''t do anything rash. I was considering moving with a group led by a trusted knight."


    The duke frowned slightly, prompting Randolph to hastily add, "Naturally, I''d remain in the rear lines. My personal guard would accompany me, of course. Have you heard of Duke Rochester''s illegitimate son? Though of humble origin, he''s an exceptional warrior with extensive combat experience. They say he even earned a barony on his own merits. His name is Philip."


    Capone hesitated. He had heard of Philip, Duke Rochester''s illegitimate child, but he had no inkling that Philip and Randolph shared mutual disdain for Michael.


    After some deliberation, the duke nodded. "If Your Highness is so determined, it cannot be helped. However, you must only observe from the rear, under strict guard. You must not under any circumstances enter the battlefield."


    Watching the prince, Capone felt a strange sense of unease. The boy he had watched grow into a man now seemed unfamiliar.


    "This should be fine," Capone reassured himself, though doubt lingered in his heart. It has to be fine.

 Chapter 180 - 180 Randolph Leading The Reinforcements

    Sir Philip, the illegitimate son of the Duke of Rochester and the new master of the former Crassus estate, had recently been cultivating a relationship with Crown Prince Randolph.


    Rumors quickly spread that a confrontation had occurred between the crown prince and Michael during a recent military meeting, resulting in Prince Randolph storming out in anger. Seizing the opportunity, Philip, who had long envied Michael''s meteoric rise, approached the prince and succeeded in befriending him.


    With the rhetorical skill inherited from his mother, who had captivated the Duke of Rochester, Philip found the task relatively easy. His exceptional eloquence and polished social skills pleased the crown prince, and the shared animosity toward Michael served as a convenient bridge for their camaraderie.


    Philip skillfully stoked the prince''s inferiority complex and dissatisfaction, subtly manipulating his emotions. After all, wasn''t a mutual target for criticism the shortest path to friendship? Yet Philip''s ambitions extended far beyond mere friendship with the prince.


    He began subtly provoking the crown prince''s desire to lead an army and achieve glory on the battlefield, feeding his aspirations bit by bit.


    "Your Highness, listening to your vast insights, I can''t help but think how unfortunate it is that such a noble figure as yourself has not had the chance to personally participate in the battlefield," Philip remarked in a low, weighted tone, lowering his gaze.


    "I hail from the Northwest Palace," he continued, "and had frequent clashes with the Pamir tribes. They are numerous, yes, but far from formidable. Their numbers only contribute to the chaos of their command structure."


    Noticing the spark of interest in the prince''s eyes, Philip pressed further. With a confident expression, he whispered, "The Five Great Tribes may be renowned, but look at the prisoners of the Rock Bear Tribe that Sir Michael captured. Where in them can one find any sense of spirit? With a dragon or a sphinx, anyone could claim such victories."


    Philip''s flattery-laden rhetoric began to sway Prince Randolph, who had already been entertaining similar thoughts. While others around him had dismissed and discouraged his ideas, Philip''s sweet words tantalized the prince, stirring the embers of repressed ambition. A faint smile crept across Randolph''s face as the suppressed flames of his desires reignited. His heart thumped with anticipation as a long-buried ambition took root.


    Sensing the prince''s wavering resolve, Philip leaned in slightly, lowering his voice further to continue his persuasive efforts.


    "Though I cannot compare to Your Highness, I too have some military insight. Even in the barren and desolate conditions of the Northwest Palace, I have achieved several victories, which has earned me the loyalty of many knights."


    Philip paused momentarily, giving Randolph time to reflect on his words. Then, with a subtle gesture of his hand, he added, "If I could rally these men and achieve a victory, Your Highness''s fame would spread across the entire kingdom. Of course, even without military achievements, Your Highness is already the most radiant figure. But imagine the glory if military triumphs were added to your brilliance."


    Philip had been diligently recruiting knights who had failed to join Michael''s ranks. With the prestige of his father, the Duke of Rochester, combined with his budding rapport with the crown prince, a significant number of knights had begun to gather around him.


    Though most were nobles from the central and southern regions, they too formed their own factions. By combining the forces of their soldiers, Philip had amassed an army of approximately five thousand men.


    Even if Duke Capone, a close confidant of the crown prince, disapproved of Randolph personally leading troops, Philip believed it mattered little. After all, Randolph would be a mere figurehead while Philip assumed true command.


    Having kindled the flames of ambition in the crown prince''s heart, Philip awaited the right moment to act. When news of another of Michael''s victories reached them, Philip and Randolph convened once more.


    The crown prince, buoyed by Duke Capone''s approval, appeared visibly elated. Observing Randolph''s confident expression, Philip inwardly laughed. Clearly, the duke had granted permission.


    Philip silently mocked the crown prince''s impotence, requiring a subordinate''s consent to join the front lines even as the heir to the throne. Yet he quickly concealed his contempt; after all, this granted him his own chance to achieve glory.


    "The enemy will soon be upon us. I have received Duke Capone''s permission to join the front," Randolph declared, omitting the condition that he would remain safely in the rear. "Are the soldiers prepared?"


    "Do not worry, Your Highness. Five thousand soldiers eagerly await the chance to achieve glory under your valiant command," Philip replied. Of course, he didn''t disclose that most of the assembled soldiers were inexperienced novices, making them something of kindred spirits.


    "Are they all in agreement with my leadership?" Randolph asked, his expression serious. While lacking practical combat experience, he was well aware of the risk of becoming a mere puppet.


    Noticing the prince''s unease, Philip offered a sly smile, attempting to assuage his concerns.


    "Your Highness, everyone is eagerly awaiting your orders. They are utterly weary of Sir Michael''s tyranny and deeply grateful for your intervention."


    In truth, the knights were merely outcasts lacking military prowess, political acumen, or wealth, relegated to insignificant posts. But the crown prince need not know that. Their efforts to align themselves with different factions were at least genuine.


    "Hmm, as crown prince, I cannot stand idly by while my subjects struggle. This is all due to Sir Michael''s discrimination. As the supreme commander, he should not reserve opportunities for glory solely for his close associates," Randolph proclaimed, his voice firm as he looked toward Philip.


    Philip, naturally, fully agreed with these sentiments. After all, hadn''t Michael utterly ignored him, denying even the smallest chance for recognition? Though Philip could have ingratiated himself with Michael, the pragmatist, he had no intention of doing so.


    "Exactly, Your Highness. Sir Michael''s unfair practices have left many disheartened and without opportunity," Philip said, pushing harder as he caught the prince''s approving gaze.


    S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 181 - 181 Tensions of War

    "If Your Highness leads the soldiers to a grand victory, the Kingdom of Elonia will be profoundly grateful. They are woefully unprepared for the invasion, struggling as it is. Your assistance at such a crucial time would only enhance your reputation." S~ea??h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Randolph''s imagination began to churn, envisioning the glory awaiting him.


    The vision of leading five thousand soldiers to a sweeping victory, being embraced and kissed in gratitude by Princess Elise, and earning the recognition of his father, Charles V, surged through Prince Randolph''s mind like waves. The crown prince, brushing aside his last moments of hesitation, declared decisively:


    "Yes! Missing such a golden opportunity would be foolish. Sir Philip, let us achieve great deeds together!"


    As the prince and Philip exchanged ambitious smiles, their eyes gleamed with determination. Whether things would proceed as they envisioned, however, remained uncertain.


    Rain began to fall over the fortress.


    Michael stood atop the watchtower, letting the rain soak him as he fixed his gaze on the frontlines where the enemy would advance. Water streamed down his hair, but his focus never wavered. When his squire, Alex, approached to shield him with an umbrella, Michael refused with a firm gesture.


    At the moment, he needed to cool his overburdened mind. The rain couldn''t persist¡ªit was essential that it didn''t. He worried that the traps they had painstakingly set might fail to function as intended if the rain continued.


    "Duke Capone, have the soldiers inspect the traps and repair any damage they find," Michael ordered.


    Without delay, Duke Capone relayed the commands. Though Capone outranked Michael as a duke, the young general held ultimate authority during wartime as the supreme commander. Fortunately, Capone was no narrow minded aristocrat obsessed with hierarchy, ensuring the chain of command operated smoothly.


    The rain, Michael thought as he surveyed the horizon, had its advantages. Muddy paths were not conducive to marching. The saturated plains would inevitably slow the Pamir Empire''s army. Even so, there was no room for complacency. With summer approaching, the roads would dry quickly once the rain stopped. Preparations for that moment needed to be thorough.


    "For now, the fortress is well stocked, but we cannot predict how long this will last," Michael remarked. "Issue an edict prohibiting civilian movement under the pretext of ensuring their safety due to the dangerous environment. If the siege is prolonged, we may need to requisition supplies. We can provide promissory notes to compensate them later."


    Duke Capone nodded in agreement. It was a prudent course of action.


    If the frontlines were surrounded and a siege seemed imminent, wartime merchants would undoubtedly scramble to flee the area. Holding them in place while movement was still feasible would prove invaluable later.


    The fortress was already home to several wartime profiteers. Some operated brothel wagons, others sold essential goods and food to the soldiers. The Zarc Trading Company, revived under Michael''s leadership, was also stationed within the fortress. Their grain supplies alone could sustain the entire population of the fortress through a prolonged siege.


    Issuing promissory notes meant the merchants wouldn''t incur losses, creating a mutually beneficial arrangement. Of course, the merchants might wish to flee preemptively, fearing for their lives should the fortress fall. But wasn''t accepting such risks part of being a wartime merchant?


    "Ensure the soldiers'' meals include fresh vegetables and fruits. The assigned rations must be strictly adhered to. If any quartermaster is found diverting or lowering the quality of supplies intended for the soldiers, inform them that they will be executed regardless of rank," Michael commanded.


    Maintaining the soldiers'' strength required proper nutrition, and Michael understood how disastrous poor supply management could be for an army. His orders continued.


    "Additionally, prohibit nobles and knights, except for the rank and file soldiers, from using the brothel wagons. Information leaking through the women stationed there must not be allowed."


    While brothel wagons were an unspoken norm in wartime to alleviate soldiers'' stress, Michael found the situation distasteful. Still, he conceded to the era''s realities. Caution was essential¡ªspies exploiting honey traps were always a possibility.


    Turning his attention back to the frontlines, Michael remained vigilant. The rain continued to fall.


    Duke Capone hesitated briefly but soon agreed. Though the order might stir dissatisfaction among the nobles and knights, it was necessary. After issuing the instructions through his adjutant, Capone looked at Michael with a mix of admiration and respect.


    The idea that enemy spies might infiltrate through brothel wagons hadn''t even occurred to him. Upon reflection, it seemed entirely plausible. After such encounters, people often let their guard down, sharing idle chatter that could include sensitive information.


    "To think someone so young possesses such insight¡­" Capone marveled inwardly. This young commander meticulously accounted for every detail on the battlefield.


    Inevitably, Capone couldn''t help but compare the crown prince to Michael. He sighed deeply, recalling Randolph''s relentless attempts to secure a place on the battlefield. As the royal family''s sole heir, his actions were incomprehensible.


    What the crown prince needed wasn''t military accolades. While adding military achievements to his name would be a bonus, political acumen and mature judgment were far more critical. The more Capone compared the two, the more evident Randolph''s shortcomings became.


    If only he were the kingdom''s successor¡­


    Capone startled at the intrusive thought, hastily shaking his head to banish it. Such ideas, even as idle musings, were forbidden.


    Yet he couldn''t deny it¡ªMichael had quietly become more reliable than the crown prince. Unable to suppress the truth, Capone let out another heavy sigh.


    The rain continued to pour relentlessly, its sound blending with the wind beating against the stone walls and windows of the fortress''s meeting hall, amplifying the tense atmosphere.


    Inside, all the senior officials of the fortress were gathered. A military conference had been convened to strategize for the battles ahead.


    Michael intended to overhaul the reward system to boost the morale of the knights and soldiers and encourage them to fight courageously. At the start of the meeting, he explained the new system he had devised.

 Chapter 182 - 182 The System Was Refused Because Its Too Progressive

    "So far, all the troops within the fortress have fought admirably," Michael began. "However, it seems to me that the rewards have been somewhat inadequate. Currently, rewards are distributed arbitrarily, without clear criteria. I believe visualizing future rewards based on merits and allowing for personal choices could improve overall performance. To that end, I''ve prepared this system for your consideration."


    He gestured to a model on the table, crafted by Leonardo, which could be operated with a single staff.


    "This system I''ve designed can be applied to all knights and soldiers in the fortress. Please take a look at the illustrations displayed on the model."


    As Leonardo tapped the model with his staff, glowing letters and graphs began to appear in the air. The data was laid out in a way that was easy to understand at a glance.


    Returning to the subject at hand, Michael continued in a solemn tone.


    "The contributions made by knights and soldiers during battle will be converted into points, which can then be exchanged for titles, estates, land, or gold¡ªwhichever they choose. This system will facilitate smooth distribution of rewards and motivate them to fight to their fullest. Earning merits will provide even the most basic level of compensation, improving the quality of life for our soldiers."


    A subtle shift rippled through the atmosphere of the meeting hall. While the idea was innovative, it also challenged tradition.


    Duke Capone stroked his beard thoughtfully, his gaze lowered. Until now, rewards were granted arbitrarily by superiors, often based on personal discretion. This system would fundamentally alter that paradigm.


    Then, Crown Prince Randolph abruptly rose from his seat, his face flushed with anger.


    "I object to this!" he exclaimed.


    Michael closed his eyes briefly, exhaling deeply. He had anticipated such opposition.


    The disagreement stemmed from a difference in perspective. While Michael sought to reward merit, Crown Prince Randolph and the nobles favored a system based on status and background. If commoners and nobles were awarded the same points for their achievements, how could the authority of the royal family be upheld?


    The prince''s voice, filled with agitation, resounded through the hall. His reaction was not merely one of disagreement but of unbridled anger, fueled by a deep-seated inferiority complex toward Michael.


    "To give choices to these ignorant fools? Rewards are ours to bestow as we see fit! How dare lowly soldiers presume to make demands? Dispensing rewards and punishments has been the sole privilege of the royal family since ancient times!"


    The nobles in the room nodded gravely, their expressions tense.


    Duke Capone, too, found merit in the prince''s argument. Such a system could indeed undermine the royal family''s authority.


    "For leaders like us, is this truly a suitable system? I believe we need time to deliberate carefully. This is not a decision to be made lightly, especially under these circumstances," the duke remarked tactfully, though his words were clearly an expression of opposition. The others silently shared his sentiments.


    Michael met Crown Prince Randolph''s fiery gaze.


    "Your Highness makes a valid point," Michael conceded. "However, Elonia is in a precarious situation, teetering on the brink of destruction. In such critical times, it is essential to provide all soldiers and knights with fair opportunities. We are at a clear disadvantage. Morale and motivation are crucial."


    His gaze shifted to Crown Prince Edward, who blushed as the man he admired looked directly at him. Edward agreed with Michael''s proposal but, being young and timid, lacked the courage to speak up. He could only watch Michael with shining eyes.


    To Edward, who had just entered adolescence, Michael appeared magnificent and extraordinary.


    Unaware of Edward''s reverence, Michael continued, "I am confident that this system will significantly aid Elonia''s recovery. What are your thoughts, Your Highness Edward?"


    Unable to meet Michael''s piercing gaze, Edward averted his eyes, silently pleading for help from Count Demonic. The count cleared his throat awkwardly.


    "Hm, this is a rather radical proposal. I believe this is a matter beyond our authority to decide. Perhaps it would be best to leave the decision to His Majesty Henry III and His Majesty Charles V," Count Demonic suggested.


    Michael sighed. Each time he encountered the constraints of the era, it felt as if his hands and feet were bound. S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    ''Indeed, it seems this system is too progressive for them to accept. Perhaps I''ll limit its implementation to our own family,'' he thought to himself.


    Surveying the room, Michael noted the heavy atmosphere that hung over the meeting hall. Out of respect for him as a commander, no one openly voiced opposition, but their sentiments were clear.


    Crown Prince Randolph, now seated, continued to fume, unable to let go of his anger.


    Despite Michael''s seemingly unreasonable suggestion, he was the only one to object openly. To Randolph, it felt as though his authority was slipping away. The confidence he had displayed when trying to enlist Michael now seemed like a distant memory.


    "When I proposed taking command, they all rushed to oppose me. Yet, when that man suggests something absurd, they say nothing? Cowards, every last one of them. Just wait," Randolph fumed inwardly.


    Michael, however, gracefully accepted the consensus. To show resentment would only make him appear petty.


    "Understood. It seems I was short-sighted. Please forget this proposal. Now, let us proceed with the military meeting," he said, casually diffusing the situation.


    As Michael''s composed demeanor eased the tension, the faces around him began to relax¡ªexcept for Randolph, whose scowl remained.


    At Michael''s signal, Leonardo raised his staff, causing all the elements on the model to arrange themselves as they would appear in reality.


    Michael resumed in a solemn tone, "First, we must discuss the placement and operation of the magic cannons and magic crossbows."


    The weapons on the model glowed, categorized by type. The Orlando Fortress housed a total of 30 magic crossbows and 18 magic cannons. These expensive, resource-intensive tools were reserved for times of dire national crisis.


    The magic crossbows were essential for repelling magical beasts. The Pamir Empire also deployed such beasts, in addition to the Black Hawk Tribe, known for their exceptional flight abilities. The Black Hawks would often ambush and abduct key figures, making the use of magic crossbows indispensable.

 Chapter 183 - 183 The Scheming Elise

    Each magic crossbow required 50 mana stones, one mage, and five soldiers to operate. While it lacked the raw firepower of a magic cannon, it was easier to handle and allowed for greater flexibility in targeting angles. To optimize their use, the forces divided management of the crossbows between the left and right flanks.


    Magic cannons, on the other hand, were far rarer artifacts. Each shot consumed 500 mana stones and required two mages and fifteen soldiers to operate. They were massive and immensely powerful. A direct hit from a magic cannon could obliterate even a first-class magical beast in a single blow. However, their drawbacks were significant.


    For instance, a magic cannon might be incapable of keeping up with the flight speed of someone like Marcus or even Miaomiao. Moreover, stealth attacks were nearly impossible; the process of a magic cannon charging its mana was so conspicuous that it could be spotted from over a kilometer away.


    Thus, while magic cannons were formidable, magic crossbows often proved more practical. Even the continent''s strongest warriors, third-tier knights, were vulnerable to a well-placed bolt from a magic crossbow. This vulnerability was why such knights rarely entered the battlefield against standard troops.


    The meeting extended late into the afternoon, with numerous issues beyond the deployment of magic crossbows and cannons requiring attention. As Michael led the discussions with unwavering focus, Crown Prince Randolph narrowed his eyes.


    "This won''t do," Randolph thought. "I need to gather more soldiers and seize an opportunity."


    Later that evening, Princess Elise and Crown Prince Randolph met in secret, taking a stroll through a small garden within the fortress. Their rendezvous was carefully supervised by Elise''s attendants, who watched from a distance. This, too, was part of Elise''s plan¡ªto heighten Randolph''s longing by keeping him at arm''s length.


    Her strategy worked. Randolph''s feelings for her deepened with each passing day. He had already expressed his desire to marry Elise to the monarchs of their respective nations. Henry III warmly supported the union, and Charles V''s response was similarly positive.


    That night, Elise wore a pearl necklace gifted by Charles V, proudly displaying it. Yet, despite the romantic setting, Randolph appeared unusually dejected.


    "Ah, it''s about that leadership nonsense again," Elise thought, already aware that Randolph and Philip were scheming together.


    Stopping their stroll, Elise gently took Randolph''s hand, pulling him closer. Startled, he glanced toward her attendants, only to be reassured by her mischievous smile.


    "Don''t worry, Randolph," Elise said. "They''re my trusted aides."


    They soon found a bench ensconced in rose vines and shared a passionate kiss. Once Elise confirmed that Randolph''s spirits had lifted, she cautiously inquired, "Randolph, is something troubling you? Is there anything I can do to help? I want to be of service to you."


    Her caring words, spoken like a wise and devoted partner, provided Randolph with a profound sense of comfort. After a moment''s hesitation, he confessed, "Elise, I want to go to the battlefield. I don''t want to hide in the rear like a coward¡ªI want to achieve great deeds and stand proud before you and my father."


    A faint wrinkle appeared on Elise''s flawless brow, her concern only enhancing her beauty. Her outward expression of worry masked a cold and calculated inner resolve.


    The Elonian royal family did not want Randolph on the battlefield. Should anything happen to him, the Kingdom of Lania would bear the full brunt of the blame. Still, it was impossible to dissuade him. There was only one option.


    "Randolph¡­ will you still go, even if I ask you not to?" Elise asked.


    Randolph nodded firmly. The moment he did, Elise turned away and began to cry. She had practiced countless times in front of a mirror and knew precisely how to cry beautifully.


    Seeing tears fall from her eyes, Randolph panicked.


    "Why¡ªwhy are you crying, Elise? I''ll be fine. Don''t you trust me?" he stammered.


    "It''s not that, Randolph. How could I not trust you? I just¡­ I resent the situation that forces you to go to war," she replied, her voice trembling with emotion.


    If she couldn''t stop him, she would ensure he had as much support as possible¡ªwhile also leaving him indebted to her.


    "Take my and my younger sister''s escort forces and soldiers with you," Elise offered. "If the fortress falls, we''ve resolved to take our own lives rather than face dishonor. In that case, escorts will be unnecessary."


    She gazed at Randolph with a sorrowful expression. No man could remain unmoved by the idea of a beloved woman sacrificing herself for his sake. Randolph, overwhelmed by love, embraced her tightly.


    In his arms, Elise wrapped her arms around his neck and locked eyes with him. Her tear-drenched lashes trembled delicately.


    "But I have a request," she whispered.


    "Anything," Randolph replied, planting a soft kiss on her lips. "Tell me."


    "Randolph, I want us to marry¡ªeven if only in a simple ceremony. I don''t need an extravagant event. I just want to become your true partner. I want to give you everything I have¡­"


    Elise''s words hung in the air as she parted her rosy lips slightly, her gaze smoldering with allure. Despite her provocative request, her cheeks flushed deeply, and her eyes gleamed with shyness.


    Moved by her vulnerable yet seductive demeanor, Randolph pulled her into a fervent embrace and kissed her passionately.


    "Oh, my dearest Elise! Let''s marry at once. I''ll find a priest, exchange vows, and spend the night together. Would that be acceptable?" he exclaimed.


    It was precisely what Elise wanted. Even a simple ceremony officiated by a priest would solidify their union. If Randolph died on the battlefield, Lania could no longer disown her. S~ea??h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As she rested in Randolph''s embrace, Elise smiled coldly. Tonight, she would use that potion. A magical concoction guaranteed to ensure pregnancy.


    The potion came with risks¡ªa high chance of the child being born with disabilities. But if it secured her position as the future queen of Lania, that was a price Elise was willing to pay.

 Chapter 184 - 184 Undercurrents

    Under the watchful eye of a priest invited by Princess Elise, the marriage vows were exchanged, and the couple spent a blissful wedding night that felt like a dream. While Elise had meticulously calculated the political implications of the union, Crown Prince Randolph was swept away by emotion.


    After the impulsive exchange of vows, Randolph fretted over how his father, Charles V, would react. However, what was done was done. Taking a deep breath, he looked at his sleeping wife beside him. Her golden hair spread softly across the pillow, glinting in the morning light.


    Looking at her serene beauty, any lingering regret melted away. After all, his father had already half-approved the match. Though the wedding was premature and lacked the blessing of their nations, the wartime situation made it understandable. A proper ceremony could be held after the war.


    Rising with a bright expression, Randolph found an additional advantage to the marriage. As Elise''s husband, he now had authority over the soldiers sent by the Elonian royal family to protect the princess and her siblings. Sear?h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    After planting a gentle kiss on Elise''s cheek, still flushed from the passion of the night, Randolph left the room. Once the door closed, Elise''s eyes snapped open, a sly smile spreading across her face.


    The moment she heard Randolph''s footsteps receding, she reached for a small vial hidden in a secret drawer beside the bed. The potential side effects didn''t matter¡ªshe was prepared to take any risk to ensure pregnancy.


    Elise downed the bitter liquid in one gulp, the acrid taste trailing down her throat. Despite the unpleasantness, her smile only deepened.


    "Now, I am the undisputed Crown Princess of Lania," she thought.


    For this moment, she had worked tirelessly, enduring life as a beautiful doll trapped between a foolish younger brother and an incompetent father. Compared to the conservative Elonian kingdom, Lania offered queens and dowager queens far greater power, and Elise intended to capitalize on that difference.


    Letting the blanket slip to the floor, Elise approached the mirror, her bare figure glowing softly in the sunlight streaming through the window. She smiled at her reflection, admiring the lingering evidence of her wedding night''s passion. Her golden hair framed a flawless face, her ample curves and slender waist earning her the reputation of a peerless beauty.


    Raising a graceful hand, Elise lightly traced her own features.


    From her childhood, an uncanny voice had whispered in her ears, offering guidance.


    "See? It''s good you followed my advice. Now you''ll become a queen. If your country hadn''t fallen into such disarray, you could have even aimed for empress of an empire. Poor Elise."


    It was this voice that had revealed the formula for the potion and taught her how to captivate men. Once again, it murmured in her mind.


    "Your father is so foolish, thinking the only way to save the country is by selling his daughter. How does that qualify him as a father? And your brother¡ªhogging everything that should be yours simply because he''s a son. Isn''t it unfair? You can do anything, Elise. Just keep listening to me, and you can seduce any man. Understand, my beautiful, obedient Elise?"


    Shivering with exhilaration, Elise smiled blissfully, the voice''s words tickling her ears. By following its teachings¡ªenhancing her beauty and perfecting her pitiable expressions¡ªshe had won the kindness of countless men.


    What did it matter if the voice came from a foreign entity? As long as it was useful, it was enough. What had her father and her country ever done for her?


    Clenching her lips in frustration as memories of her ineffectual father and the kingdom''s dire state surfaced, Elise calmed herself. After all, compared to other princesses forced into political marriages with decrepit kings, her situation wasn''t so bad.


    "If that foolish prince dies on the battlefield¡­"


    Her lips curled into a cold smile reflected in the mirror.


    If Randolph perished due to a reckless decision on the battlefield, Elise would immediately gain practical power. Placing a hand on her flat stomach, she whispered to herself, "And if Randolph dies and Charles V succumbs to grief¡­ even better."


    Satisfied with her thoughts, Elise lay back on the bed, a serene smile playing on her lips. Even the mere fantasy of such an outcome filled her with happiness.


    On the Elonian side, Count Demonic was taken aback by Crown Prince Randolph''s sudden request. Amid the frenzy of preparing for a siege against the Pamir Empire, the prince approached him, speaking in a resolute tone.


    "The two princesses and Crown Prince Edward have ceded their escort forces to me. This is confidential¡ªonly you may know. I completed my marriage vows with Princess Elise yesterday. We are now, for all intents and purposes, united."


    The count was momentarily at a loss for words. While the union between Princess Elise and Crown Prince Randolph was favorable news for Elonia, the abruptness of it all was staggering. Choosing his words carefully, he offered his congratulations.


    "Congratulations, Your Highness. May your union bring boundless glory and prosperity."


    However, the timing of this announcement was troubling. The military formations and supply logistics were already finalized, and any changes now would create significant chaos. It seemed clear that Randolph had traded the wedding ceremony for control over the escort forces.


    Remembering Randolph''s past clashes with Michael over command, Count Demonic sighed. Such actions were far from wise.


    While it wasn''t unheard of for royalty to lead troops on the battlefield in the Lubel continent, it came with conditions¡ªthe royal must possess military aptitude and experience. Without those prerequisites, they were expected to remain in ceremonial roles, gradually proving their worth over time.


    The alliance of the three kingdoms had only managed to hold against the Pamir Empire thanks to the brilliance of skilled commanders, not because of royal involvement on the frontlines. Sudden interference was unwelcome, especially when lives were at stake.


    After a brief pause, Count Demonic offered his advice cautiously.


    "Your Highness, I urge you to reconsider. The royal escort forces have predefined roles and missions. A sudden redeployment could severely disrupt operations."

 Chapter 185 - 185 A New Reward System

    "Your Highness, I urge you to reconsider. The royal escort forces have predefined roles and missions. A sudden redeployment could severely disrupt operations."


    Randolph frowned at the count''s suggestion, his long-suppressed anger finally erupting.


    Randolph seethed inwardly. His decision to take the battlefield was supposed to demonstrate his abilities and surpass his father, yet obstacles seemed to arise at every turn. From Michael to a host of lesser figures, it felt as though everyone was intent on blocking his path.


    "I am fully capable as a commander. With the princess and the crown prince entrusting me with operational control of the unit, why is there so much dissent?" Randolph exclaimed.


    Count Demonic struggled to contain his frustration. If Randolph had been the crown prince of Elonia, he would have insisted more firmly on reconsideration. However, Randolph was a prince from an allied nation, one whose cooperation was vital for future support from Lania. While Randolph didn''t have actual command authority, his status as royalty, combined with the endorsement of the escort forces'' leaders, left little room for objection.


    Reluctantly, Count Demonic bowed his head. "Understood, Your Highness. I will follow your orders."


    The reallocation of the escort forces commenced immediately. Soldiers and knights were forced to abandon their current tasks to prepare for the sudden transfer. To many of them, it felt like a bolt from the blue. Despite complying with the orders, a palpable sense of unease spread among the troops, as the previously established formations unraveled.


    With the royal escort forces now under his control, Randolph merged them with the soldiers Philip had assembled, looking upon the assembled troops with pride. That pride, however, was short-lived.


    Unlike Michael''s well-disciplined and orderly soldiers, the men gathered before Randolph were disorganized and undisciplined¡ªa true rabble. This was hardly surprising. Michael''s tireless efforts had transformed his forces, comprising soldiers from the northeastern province and Elonian recruits, into a formidable army. Even some southern and central noblemen who had heeded Michael''s advice had trained their soldiers to an acceptable standard.


    In contrast, the troops under Philip''s command had no such training or experience. While the Elonian royal escort forces were in better condition, their numbers were limited. Despite all his efforts, Randolph now commanded a force of 5,000 poorly trained soldiers and 1,000 semi-competent troops.


    Randolph''s lips twitched in frustration, and his growing anger made Philip visibly nervous.


    "Baron Philip, what is the meaning of this?" Randolph demanded, his tone sharp. "Why are they so disorganized and chaotic?"


    Philip squirmed under Randolph''s glare, responding in a timid voice, "There simply wasn''t enough time, Your Highness. Count Michael trained his own soldiers thoroughly but neglected these men and even obstructed my attempts to organize them."


    Philip shifted all the blame onto Michael. The reality, however, was that many of the southern and central nobles had rejected Michael''s assistance, preferring to train their soldiers independently. Philip had tried to whip the troops into shape, but the task was daunting.


    This ragtag group could only hope to contribute by following the larger military effort. But what Randolph wanted was an independent, elite army.


    Watching the scene unfold, Count Demonic silently prayed for Randolph to realize the futility of his ambitions and relinquish command. Yet the prince''s determination showed no signs of wavering.


    "Sir Philip," Randolph declared, "see to it that these men are properly trained. I''ve seen Count Michael make his soldiers battle-ready in a single day. You claim to be no less capable, do you not?"


    Philip had no choice but to nod. He, too, believed he could rival Michael. Now that the opportunity had presented itself, he resolved to make the most of it.


    As the commander of Orlando Fortress, Michael''s intelligence network was nothing short of meticulous. News quickly reached him that Princess Elise and Crown Prince Randolph had secretly exchanged marriage vows and consummated their union. It was also reported that Randolph now controlled the entire Elonian royal escort force and had incorporated Philip''s 5,000 troops.


    "Well, they''re certainly trying hard," Michael remarked with a smirk.


    He had anticipated Randolph''s reluctance to remain in the rear and his inevitable plotting. Though Randolph had shown some adherence to the chain of command initially, this turn of events came as no surprise.


    Michael decided to do nothing. If the crown prince insisted on keeping his plans hidden, there was no need to expose them. By acting independently, Randolph effectively absolved Michael of any responsibility for his actions.


    Michael was not Randolph''s nanny. The prince would have to bear the consequences of his decisions.


    As Michael ascended the fortress watchtower to survey the frontlines, thoughts of Randolph''s antics faded from his mind. Orlando Fortress stood at a crossroads of fate. Would it remain the bastion against the empire''s invasion or fall to ruin? The stage for the decisive battle was set.


    The fortress held immense strategic value, ensuring that the coming conflict would be fierce and unrelenting.


    Gathering his knights and soldiers, Michael addressed them with unwavering authority. While the other nobles had refused to implement his reward system, Michael believed it was vital for maintaining morale in the face of prolonged tension. Hope, he knew, was essential for progress.


    "Listen carefully," Michael announced. "Those who distinguish themselves in battle will earn points. Perform your duties to the best of your ability and survive! Points can later be exchanged for rewards of your choosing. If you want land, you shall have land. If you want gold, you shall have gold. Do you understand?"


    The soldiers responded with resounding cheers, raising their weapons high.


    They had already been briefed by their squad leaders on how the points system worked. After each battle, soldiers would report their achievements to their squad leaders, who would assign points accordingly. With Leonardo''s recording devices accompanying each unit, falsifying reports was impossible, as cross-verification by dedicated record officers would ensure accuracy.


    Seeing the soldiers'' spirits rise, Michael smiled. For now, the system applied only to the soldiers under his direct command, but he was confident that its effectiveness would eventually lead to its adoption across the entire army. Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 186 - 186 Theres No Need For Strategy—Just Charge

    In theory, the Orlando Fortress housed a formidable force of 150,000 soldiers: 100,000 from Lania''s reinforcements and 50,000 from the fortress''s existing garrison. However, the reality was far less impressive. Only slightly more than half of that number was truly operational.


    The 30,000 soldiers gathered from the northeastern provinces under Michael''s command had been rigorously trained and were now elite troops. In contrast, the soldiers from the southern and central regions were far less capable. Despite the royal conscription order, able-bodied men had evaded the draft, leaving only the unfit and inexperienced to be sent.


    Some foresighted nobles had selected competent soldiers, bolstering the military''s strength, and many of these troops had undergone extensive training under Michael upon arriving at the fortress. Unfortunately, many others had not. The situation among the Elonian garrison troops was no better.


    Many of the soldiers and knights stationed at the fortress had already perished in prior skirmishes with invaders. Thus, while the garrison was nominally 50,000 strong, the actual number was closer to 20,000. Michael''s available forces now totaled approximately 120,000. Factoring out the unfit soldiers assigned to logistical roles like cooking and weapon maintenance, the number of deployable soldiers was reduced to 90,000.


    Crown Prince Edward, his youthful face lit with curiosity, tilted his head upward to address Michael. At barely 160 cm tall, he had to crane his neck to meet the gaze of Michael, who towered over him at over 190 cm.


    "Count Michael, I have a question. Please don''t dismiss it as the musings of a simpleton," Edward said hesitantly.


    Though Edward had sided with Crown Prince Randolph during the military meeting, Michael bore no ill will toward him. In fact, he often felt sympathy for the boy, having witnessed him being belittled by both Elise and Randolph on several occasions.


    "You may ask me anything, Your Highness," Michael replied.


    Edward''s cheeks flushed as he mustered the courage to voice his query. His eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.


    "Why would the enemy choose to attack the fortress directly when there''s such a vast plain? If it were me, I''d find a way around, even if it meant taking a longer route."


    It was a question anyone unfamiliar with military strategy might ask. Michael considered how best to explain before responding methodically.


    "Armies require supplies, Your Highness. Orlando Fortress is strategically located at the crossroads of major routes, and bypassing it would jeopardize their supply lines. Moreover, if they were to avoid the fortress, would we simply stand by? We''d pursue and harass them relentlessly, compromising their rear security. Do you understand?"


    Edward nodded earnestly. This kind of military insight wasn''t something he could have learned from ordinary tutors. Asking Count Demonic was equally unthinkable, given the hierarchical gap between them.


    Though Edward had been educated in the martial arts to prepare for knighthood, he lacked the aptitude for it and had neglected his studies, leading to his current shortcomings. He had once asked Randolph a similar question, only to be met with a dismissive sneer.


    Now, standing before Michael¡ªa renowned commander who treated him kindly¡ªEdward felt safe to ask even seemingly foolish questions.


    "Thank you, Count Michael. May I come to you for advice from time to time?" Edward asked shyly.


    Michael smiled. Though still young, Edward was Elonia''s sole prince and future heir. Given the strained relationship with Randolph, cultivating a rapport with Edward could prove advantageous.


    The political structure of Rubel Continent bore similarities to medieval Europe. While nobles and knights fought ostensibly for their nations, they primarily defended their own territories. It wasn''t uncommon for individuals to hold titles granted by foreign kingdoms.


    Though Michael''s roots in Lania were firm, fostering connections in other nations was always prudent.


    While Michael was deepening his bond with Edward, a message from Crown Prince Oswald of the Pamir Empire reached the chieftains of the Five Great Tribes. It conveyed grim news: the vanguard sent to scout the area and establish forward positions had been completely annihilated. S§×arch* The nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The chieftains'' faces darkened upon hearing the report. If the vanguard had executed its mission properly, it should have returned by now. Though they had suspected something was amiss, confirmation of their total destruction was a bitter blow.


    The vanguard hadn''t consisted of elite forces, but it had still been a sizable contingent.


    As the news spread, the tribal leaders gathered around Oswald, who was riding at the head of the column. To maintain their swift pace, they continued conversing on horseback.


    "The fortress will know we''re approaching now, thanks to the vanguard''s failure," said Yandor, the chieftain of the Rock Bear Tribe, his voice heavy with frustration. Having already lost nearly 3,000 of his kin and seen his youngest son, Karato, taken prisoner, the news was particularly painful for him.


    "Hah, as if they didn''t already know we were coming," hissed Kisha, chieftain of the Red Snake Tribe and Yandor''s long-standing rival. Oswald intervened to mediate.


    "Even so, they likely didn''t know how far we had advanced," Oswald remarked. "Interrogating the vanguard would have revealed much, so they now have detailed knowledge of our movements."


    Phetan, the chieftain of the Wild Boar Tribe, bared his teeth in a savage grin. "Bah! Let them think what they will. We''ll crush them in one fell swoop, as always. There''s no need for strategy¡ªjust charge at them and scatter their wits before leading our elites to finish the job."


    ''And that''s precisely why we haven''t conquered the continent'', Oswald thought, stifling his irritation. Such impulsive behavior needed to be curbed.


    "Such recklessness won''t do, Chieftain Phetan," Oswald said firmly. "We''re invading Orlando Fortress, a critical military stronghold of Elonia. Michael is leading the defense, and he is not an opponent to be underestimated. This isn''t the same as the Dolce Fortress we toppled before."


    Phetan snorted but fell silent. Even he had to admit a certain fear of Michael and the two Class 1 magical beasts under his command.

 Chapter 187 - 187 Deployment

    The most strategic-minded among the chieftains, Falcon of the Black Hawk Tribe, spoke in a measured tone.


    "We cannot bring down that fortress with brute force alone. Michael is a cunning adversary. Many of our tribe''s elite warriors fell at the hands of knights commanding flying magical beasts under his command," said Falcon, the chieftain of the Black Hawk Tribe, his tone measured and analytical.


    Kanta, the chieftain of the Lion''s Mane Tribe, scoffed in response. "So what do you propose we do? Stand around idly and wait for the fortress to collapse on its own? You criticize but fail to present a viable strategy."


    Their argument was interrupted by Crown Prince Oswald, who stepped in to mediate. "If ambushes and frontal assaults are too difficult, then we''ll lay siege to the fortress. Orlando Fortress once held a garrison of 50,000. Their numbers have since swelled to 150,000, but their resources are finite. Even if they''ve stockpiled supplies, a prolonged siege will eventually deplete them."


    He gestured to the surrounding plains. "Unlike the scorched earth we''ve passed through, this region hasn''t been ravaged. We''ll surround the fortress with our forces to trap them inside while dividing our troops to pillage the surrounding areas. The barley harvest is nearly ready, isn''t it? Additionally, we have a tactic they won''t even consider. Let''s have the weaker tribes transform and graze like livestock."


    The suggestion was met with nods of agreement. With over 500,000 soldiers gathered from various tribes, it seemed plausible. Of those, nearly 400,000 hailed from tribes descended from animal shifters like deer, rabbits, and antelopes. By tapping into their ancestral abilities, they could graze for sustenance, reducing the need for rations.


    However, this strategy revealed Oswald''s ignorance of the state of the other tribes. While the Five Great Tribes retained the strength to draw upon their ancestral powers, many other tribes had suffered generations of oppression and forced conscription. Their connection to their lineage had weakened significantly. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The decree stirred anger among those tribes designated to graze.


    "What do they take us for¡ªactual rabbits?" protested Yuran, the chieftain of the Meadow Rabbit Tribe. "We can graze if we must, but it won''t suffice. Surely, we''re entitled to some rations."


    The messenger delivering Oswald''s orders was indifferent. "Figure it out yourselves. You''re herbivores, aren''t you? If that''s unsatisfactory, you can defy the prince''s orders and watch your entire tribe be executed."


    Yuran suppressed his rage, though tears of frustration burned in his eyes. How he longed to escape this brutal empire and find sanctuary elsewhere. Yet, where could they go?


    On the Rubel Continent, Pamir tribes like his were often treated as little more than slaves. Resigned, Yuran trudged back to his people, dreading how to break the news.


    Inside Orlando Fortress, Crown Prince Randolph prepared for his departure. He penned two letters, sealing them with his crest. With tears streaming down her face, Elise accepted the letters from him.


    "Elise, please stop crying and take these letters," Randolph implored. "Seeing your tears feels like my heart is being torn apart."


    Elise smiled through her tears, though her true feelings remained hidden. Her reddened eyes and sorrowful expression had a moving effect on those who saw her. Like a dewy rose in bloom, she clung to Randolph''s chest.


    "I''m sorry, Randolph. I shouldn''t show you such weakness before your departure. Please forgive me. Seeing your bravery fills me with pride, and the tears won''t stop. Please, return victorious and hold me tightly once more."


    Buoyed by his beloved wife''s encouragement, Randolph kissed her lips.


    "Keep these letters safe," he said. "If anything happens to me¡­"


    Before he could finish, Elise shook her head vehemently, as if rejecting the possibility. Finally, at his insistence, she took the letters with trembling fingers.


    One letter was addressed to his father, Charles V. In it, Randolph expressed his desire for Elise to be formally recognized as the crown princess should anything happen to him. If he returned victorious, the letter would remain unsent.


    The second letter was meant for a child who might already be growing in Elise''s womb. If Randolph were to fall in battle, that child would be born fatherless. Writing these letters was Randolph''s way of demonstrating the seriousness with which he approached the battlefield.


    While his advisors insisted that the crown prince did not need military accolades, Randolph thought differently. He had received proper training as both a commander and a knight¡ªwhy shouldn''t he fight?


    After all, Michael himself had been an untested youth before his first deployment. It was sheer luck that had led Michael to bond with a sphinx and a dragon. No matter how many times Randolph compared himself to Michael objectively, he always arrived at the same conclusion: he was no less capable.


    Now, his path was clear. When the Pamir Empire''s forces attacked, he would appear to be managing supplies in the rear, then seize the opportunity to charge into the fray and achieve glory. Success would require precise timing and brilliant tactics, but Randolph was confident in his abilities.


    "There''s no need for you to come outside. Seeing you weakens my resolve," he told Elise before sweeping out of the room, his cloak billowing behind him.


    Watching him leave, Elise smiled softly. No matter what happened to Randolph on the battlefield, her position was secure as long as she had the letters.


    A massive cloud of dust began to rise on the horizon, blotting out the sky. What had initially appeared as faint specks in the distance steadily grew larger, revealing their true form.


    The ground beneath the approaching enemy vibrated with their footsteps, and their mere presence began to weigh on the hearts of the soldiers within the fortress.


    From atop the watchtower, the soldiers stationed there watched the spectacle with growing dread. Their faces grew pale as they struggled to fathom the sheer number of enemies concealed within that cloud of dust.


    This was the overwhelming force that had effortlessly overtaken Dolce Fortress, now advancing on Orlando Fortress. The soldiers exchanged glances, their eyes filled with fear.

 Chapter 188 - 188 Trap

    The blazing heat of the sun above and the rhythmic march of the enemy caused their hearts to race and their breaths to quicken.


    Some felt their palms slick with sweat, while one soldier noticed his spear trembling faintly in his grasp. Beads of sweat dripped from his fingers to the earth below, his heart already gripped by terror as if he were staring down the edge of an enemy''s blade.


    Sergeants moved through the ranks, patting soldiers on the shoulder and urging them to overcome their fear. Yet, their reassurances barely scratched the surface of the mounting panic.


    "They''re just numerous, not strong!" one sergeant shouted, but his voice failed to penetrate the soldiers'' terrified minds.


    The scene before them was nothing short of harrowing. The enemy''s march felt like an unstoppable tidal wave bearing down upon them. Dust swirled upward, almost touching the sun, and some soldiers instinctively stepped back, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.


    "What are you scared of? They''re still far away!" the sergeant barked again, but the deep-seated fear had already taken root.


    The soldiers swallowed hard, gripping their weapons tightly despite their sweaty palms. Their lips, however, grew dry as a desert.


    As the enemy drew closer, their shapes became clearer. Banners fluttered in the wind, their sheer numbers forming an endless sea beneath them. The sunlight reflected off their armor like cold, glittering fire.


    Whether it was imagination or reality, the soldiers could swear they heard the sound of the enemy''s march, growing louder like an approaching storm.


    "Tens of thousands¡­ maybe hundreds of thousands¡­" one soldier muttered in a trembling voice.


    Another soldier nearby widened his eyes in response, as the sheer magnitude of the enemy forces made their throats tighten.


    The sergeant pushed through the troops, shouting, "Hold your ground! When this war is over, you''ll be able to boast of your glory for generations! Follow your training, and we will win!"


    But the words were insufficient.


    Realizing that fear was spreading through the ranks, Michael turned to Marcus for assistance. Floating high above, the magical beast roared with deafening might, jolting the soldiers out of their terror-induced stupor.


    The sergeants'' encouragements, once muffled by fear, began to register. The soldiers tightened their grips on their weapons, glancing at one another with renewed determination.


    Though their fear didn''t vanish completely, their tension began to ease. A fragile but growing sense of resolve rippled through the ranks.


    Michael stood atop the watchtower, closely monitoring the enemy''s movements. His sharp gaze followed the vanguard, steadily drawing closer to the fortress.


    He waited patiently for them to reach the position of the traps. With a piercing look, he ensured the readiness of his archers.


    The archers, personally trained by Michael, felt the weight of their bows in trembling hands. However, Michael''s steady gaze filled them with resolve, and they straightened their postures.


    Time seemed to crawl as the entire fortress held its breath in tense anticipation.


    Finally, the enemy''s vanguard appeared within sight. With enhanced vision, Michael discerned that the approaching troops were mostly infantry from the allied minor tribes, not part of the Five Great Tribes.


    Miaomiao, circling in the sky to guard against the Black Hawk Tribe''s aerial ambushes, relayed a message to Michael through her enchanted earring.


    "No hidden ambushes. They''re advancing honestly this time."


    "Same strategy as always. Thanks, Miaomiao. Keep watching," Michael replied.


    The Pamir Empire often relied on the same tactic: sending weaker allied forces to exhaust the defenders before deploying their elite units. Despite its predictability, this strategy often succeeded due to the empire''s vast population and the overwhelming strength of its elites.


    Michael analyzed the enemy''s strengths and compared them to his own. Unless through ambush, the chances of winning a direct confrontation against the Pamir elites were slim. Each of their elite warriors was a near-superhuman monster.


    Even without transformations, the disparity in cavalry numbers was glaring. It was crucial not to waste arrows on the initial wave. The traps alone had to suffice in repelling them.


    As the enemy''s vanguard approached the area where the traps had been set, Michael raised his hand high to give the signal.


    Nearby mages, who had been standing by, began chanting in unison. Their voices vibrated through the air, and the previously tranquil ground began to rumble violently.


    The allied tribes'' infantry hesitated, alarmed by the sudden upheaval of the earth beneath their feet. Explosive sounds erupted around them, and flames shot skyward, splitting the plains with roaring infernos.


    "Fire!" one of the allied commanders shouted in panic. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Buried across the plains, coal and hay bundles ignited instantly under the power of fire-element mages. The flames roared like living beasts, devouring everything in their path.


    Although coal normally required high temperatures to ignite, fire mages easily bypassed such physical limitations.


    The flames coiled and surged, enveloping the enemy in a blazing storm.


    The soldiers within the fortress erupted in cheers, their voices echoing as they watched the raging inferno consume the advancing troops.


    The sight of soldiers and mages working on the plains had been observed by the allied tribes, but they never imagined such a devastating trap awaited them.


    "Fire! The mages have set it ablaze!"


    As the once-calm plains were engulfed in towering flames, wind mages scrambled to redirect the inferno away from the fortress. These mages, originally researchers studying dragons and sphinxes, now found themselves reluctantly serving as makeshift mercenaries.


    For the weary soldiers within the fortress, the sight of the enemy burning in the flames was exhilarating. It brought rare smiles to their faces, rekindling a sense of hope that had been smothered by the overwhelming might of the allied tribes'' advance.


    Cheers erupted among the ranks.


    "We did it! They''re getting roasted alive. Burn them all!"


    Outside, however, the plains had transformed into a living hell. The allied forces, charging bravely moments before, were now screaming in terror as they were consumed by the raging fire.


    The sudden blaze sent them into chaos, with soldiers colliding and trampling one another in their desperate attempts to escape. But there was nowhere to run. No matter where they turned, the inferno surrounded them.

 Chapter 189 - 189 Anger And Hatred Rising Withing The Empire

    "Throw dirt on it! Extinguish the flames!"


    Commanders shouted orders, trying to regain control, but their voices were quickly drowned out by the roar of the fire.


    Soldiers writhed on the ground, desperately attempting to douse the flames that clung to their bodies. Yet the fire showed no mercy, consuming them relentlessly.


    The acrid stench of burning flesh and fabric filled the air. The flames grew fiercer, accompanied by a chorus of agonized screams.


    "Retreat! Fall back!"


    Desperate commanders shouted in vain. The chaos had already spiraled beyond their control, and the fire, alive with malevolent energy, continued to spread among their ranks.


    The leaders of the Five Great Tribes were stunned by the carnage. While the vanguard had consisted of weaker allied tribes, such a catastrophic outcome had not been anticipated. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Help us! Please!"


    Panicked soldiers fled toward the rear, but even the chieftains of the Five Great Tribes could not bring themselves to stop them. Despite their reputation for ruthlessness, they couldn''t begrudge those who simply wanted to survive.


    Yet even those who managed to escape the flames often succumbed to severe burns shortly thereafter.


    The shamans of the Five Great Tribes worked frantically, but there was little they could do. Ancient weather-altering rituals were the domain of the Rock Bear Tribe''s priestess, Babaru, but she was nowhere to be found.


    Kanta, the chieftain of the Lion''s Mane Tribe, confronted Yandor.


    "Yandor! Bring your tribe''s priestess here immediately. Whether she summons wind or rain, she must act now!"


    Yandor, who had been concealing Babaru''s absence to protect his tribe''s reputation, hesitated before replying weakly.


    "Babaru¡­ infiltrated the fortress seeking vengeance for her granddaughter. She hasn''t been seen since."


    His admission sparked outrage among the other chieftains.


    "What? A key figure like that has been missing, and you didn''t think to inform us?"


    "How do you expect us to fix this mess now? Rock Bears truly live up to their name¡ªnothing but thick-headed fools!"


    Yandor bristled at the insult, but before he could retaliate, Crown Prince Oswald intervened.


    "Enough! Cease this bickering. What can we do against a calculated fire attack like this? It''s fortunate that only the allied tribes have suffered losses. Let''s withdraw and reassess the situation. We''ll be more cautious moving forward."


    Reluctantly, the chieftains agreed, pulling their troops back.


    The battlefield they left behind was littered with countless charred corpses. Soldiers within the fortress observed the aftermath with a renewed sense of victory.


    "Look at that! They''re all burned to ash!"


    "The mages did it! They torched the whole lot of them!"


    Their triumphant shouts echoed throughout the fortress. The soldiers'' eyes gleamed with confidence, and no sympathy was spared for their foes. The cheers persisted until the flames finally subsided.


    Michael allowed the soldiers to revel in their victory. Morale, he knew, was paramount in war.


    Meanwhile, the few survivors of the allied tribes were sent back to the battlefield by the relentless demands of the Five Great Tribes.


    Armed with sticks, they were tasked with smothering the remaining embers on the scorched plains. The ground was still searing hot, and sporadic flames leapt out at the struggling soldiers. Yet they had no choice but to continue.


    Failure to comply or hesitation in their work would result in whipping.


    Their efforts were clumsy, their hands blistered from the heat radiating off the charred earth. Smoke stung their lungs, but they had to keep bending over like beasts of burden, beating at the embers until their hands were raw and burnt.


    Yuran, the chieftain of the Meadow Rabbit Tribe, suppressed tears as he worked. His tribe had survived the fire thanks to quick thinking, but the prospect of the battles ahead left him despairing.


    Even if the war expanded the empire, his tribe would gain nothing. The spoils would go to the Five Great Tribes and the powerful clans; there was no meaning in this endless suffering.


    Yuran paused briefly to gaze at the ash-covered plains. Smoke still rose from scattered patches, casting ghostly shadows over the land. Among the debris lay unrecognizable corpses, their bodies twisted in agony.


    Charred remains with outstretched arms, burned black, appeared to cry out silently. The mix of scorched flesh, smoke, and the metallic stench of blood turned his stomach.


    His anger and hatred toward the Five Great Tribes and the royal family far surpassed his enmity for Michael, the enemy commander who had orchestrated the trap.


    Yuran''s gaze shifted to the chieftains of the Five Great Tribes, perched on horseback and barking orders. Even now, they were bickering among themselves.


    "This wretched empire can burn to the ground for all I care," Yuran thought bitterly.


    From a distance, Michael observed the allied tribes closely. The palpable tension among them was evident even from afar. To Michael, it was an opportunity ripe for exploitation.


    After the trap operation using firebombs succeeded, the terrified Pamir Empire forces settled on a distant hill and didn''t move. Darkness soon blanketed the land, bringing a cold night.


    Michael, having agreed to alternate shifts with Duke Capone to inspect the watchtower, headed toward his tent. Since the start of the war, he had been living in the barracks alongside the soldiers. His tent was situated on one side of the fortress. The nobles who shared Michael''s ideals rested nearby, their positions centered around his tent.


    Inside the tent, Nyangnyangi and Marcus were peacefully asleep, their weary bodies sprawled out. Marcus had reduced his enormous size to that of an elephant, curling up his body and snoring softly. Nyangnyangi occasionally twitched his front paws, furrowing his brow as if dreaming.


    Despite the approaching summer, the nights were still chilly. However, the warmth emanating from Marcus made it unnecessary to light a fire in Michael''s tent. As Michael took a seat at the table, his attendants approached to serve him.


    "Master, do you require anything? Shall we prepare a meal or warm tea for you?" asked Alex, breaking Michael''s train of thought. Michael, now accustomed to his magical equipment, no longer needed attendants to assist with removing armor or maintaining weapons. His horse, Bucephalus, was already resting, freshly groomed by the stable master.

 Chapter 190 - 190 Weakness Of The Empires

    Alex and Antony had yet to awaken their aura. Perhaps due to this, they appeared overly anxious, eager to prove their worth in any way possible. Michael shook his head and gestured for them to come closer.


    "No, it''s fine. Come here," he said. Hesitant, Alex and Antony exchanged glances before shuffling forward. Having grown up in a humble environment, Michael tended to do things on his own.


    "Master, did we do something wrong?" Antony asked cautiously.


    Michael smiled and shook his head. "Not at all, Alex. You no longer need to handle menial tasks. Your job now is to train. Starting tomorrow, join me for an hour of training every morning and evening. I apologize that I can''t spare more time, but I need you to awaken your aura as soon as possible and stand by my side."


    The sincerity in Michael''s voice moved the attendants, who bowed their heads. Having spent time with him, they understood his character well and harbored no unnecessary doubts. Accepting Michael''s words at face value, they expressed their gratitude.


    "Thank you, Master. It''s an honor that you would dedicate your precious time to us. Shall we prepare your sleeping quarters?" they offered.


    Michael laughed. "Didn''t I just say no more menial tasks? Don''t worry and leave. I''ve already instructed the guard knights to arrange your tent."


    Exchanging glances, Alex and Antony left the tent with joyous expressions. Once alone, Michael fell into deep thought. Preparing to rally the weaker tribes of the Pamir Empire required thorough planning.


    He called for Iskar, who had been hiding in the shadows. Since the intrusion of Babaru, the shamaness of the Rock Bear Tribe, Iskar hadn''t left his side for a moment.


    "Iskar, you mentioned being from one of the Pamir Plateau tribes. Do you remember which one?" Michael asked.


    Under the flickering light of a magical candle, Iskar''s composed face wavered slightly. After a moment of wistfulness, he shook his head.


    "I don''t remember. I was kidnapped as a child, and my memories are fragmented. I don''t even recall my name or family," Iskar admitted.


    Michael clicked his tongue. How should I open the way forward then? he pondered, tapping the table lightly with his fingers.


    Watching Michael, Iskar finally spoke. "If you wish to understand the state of the tribes, I can provide some insight. When I wandered to search for my roots, I gathered a significant amount of information. However, my tribe wasn''t one of the five great tribes or any powerful group, so I didn''t think it would be useful and kept silent."


    Michael''s eyes lit up. Information on the weaker tribes was precisely what he needed most now.


    "What I need is knowledge about the weaker tribes. Are you familiar with their traits? Which tribes exist?" Michael inquired.


    Iskar nodded confidently. "Yes, I am well-acquainted with them."


    He continued in a calm voice. "The weaker tribes are generally categorized by their innate abilities, often referred to as the power of spirits. These tribes usually name themselves after animals, which makes them easy to identify."


    Michael listened attentively, nodding along. Most tribes of the Pamir Empire bore animal names, though there were rare exceptions, like the descendants of Botan who had joined him.


    "The five great tribes also bear animal names. The Rock Bear Tribe you encountered earlier is an example. Tribes with animal names tend to wield the power of the corresponding animal spirit," Iskar explained, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.


    "However, the weaker tribes harness the powers of gentler animals, such as sheep, goats, rabbits, or mice. For some reason, they instinctively submit to tribes with stronger powers, much like how prey freezes before predators. It''s unfortunate that their limits seem predetermined from birth," he remarked, his gaze distant as if recalling the past.


    "I once met the heir of the Mountain Hare Tribe. Even without invoking his spirit''s power, his hands were covered in soft fur," Iskar said, his voice tinged with nostalgia.


    Michael leaned in, intrigued by Iskar''s connection to a high-ranking member of a weaker tribe.


    "That heir told me their abilities were rooted in ancestral power rather than spirits, meaning it depended on bloodline. Other than running away swiftly in emergencies, they had little else to boast of," Iskar recounted, pausing before meeting Michael''s eyes with a cautious expression.


    "This is merely my own theory, so take it with a grain of salt. I believe these tribes are the descendants of beastfolk who once roamed the plateau, using the diluted powers in their bloodlines as so-called spirit powers," he speculated.


    Michael nodded thoughtfully. He, too, had suspected something similar after witnessing the Rock Bear Tribe wield their abilities. Unlike magic, their powers emitted no mana waves or external energy.


    Iskar continued. "The five great tribes have maintained their dominant positions due to their pure bloodlines. In contrast, the weaker tribes have mixed bloodlines or descend from less powerful ancestors, which is why they remain subjugated. Of course, this is just my hypothesis."


    Iskar finished speaking, and Michael rested his chin on his hand, lost in thought. After a while, he turned his gaze toward Iskar.


    "You''ve given me excellent information, Iskar. Thank you. Are you still on good terms with that Mountain Hare Tribe successor you mentioned?" he asked.


    Iskar nodded. During his travels across the Pamir Plateau, he had accompanied Yuran, sharing trials and tribulations together. They had continued to exchange letters afterward, and Iskar had even spent his own money to help Yuran''s tribe during a drought and periods of exploitation. Their relationship could be considered quite close.


    "Yes, I wouldn''t claim we trust each other with our lives, but he''s one of the few friends I have," Iskar admitted.


    This was fortunate. Michael observed Iskar carefully. With his shadow-stealth abilities now honed to perfection after his transformation into a yokai, Iskar could infiltrate the tribes and complete the mission safely. Sear?h the ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "I see a deep divide among the tribes of the Pamir Plateau," Michael said, his tone deliberate. "I intend to exploit those feelings. To do so, we''ll need¡­"

 Chapter 191 - 191 Sowing Discord

    Michael began outlining his strategy, and Iskar listened intently, not missing a single word. Though a small part of him worried about the potential harm to his friend, the Michael he had come to know wasn''t one to use people only to abandon them. By the end of Michael''s explanation, Iskar felt reassured that his trust in his master had not been misplaced. If the plan succeeded, Yuran and his tribe could break free from the exploitation and tyranny of the five great tribes, finally gaining true freedom.


    Meanwhile, Yuran, the chieftain of the Mountain Hare Tribe, visited the tent of Pharos, the chieftain of the Horned Ibex Tribe. Pharos had remained behind on the burning plains to evacuate his people, suffering a severe burn on his thigh in the process. Yuran had come to check on him.


    "How are you feeling, Pharos? I brought some herbs that are good for burns," Yuran said, offering the bundle.


    Pharos, lying on a makeshift cot, looked up at Yuran. His eyes carried the wisdom of many years.


    "Thank you for coming, Yuran. Those are valuable¡ªsave them for your people. I''ve already been treated. A little rest, and I''ll be fine," Pharos replied.


    "Ha! Do you think they''ll let us rest? They''re desperate to work us to the bone. We haven''t even received a single bean since yesterday. You''ve heard the orders, haven''t you? They want us to eat grass as we march. Grass!" Yuran said, his voice filled with indignation.


    A flash of anger crossed Pharos''s gentle face but was quickly replaced by resignation, the result of years of learned helplessness.


    "They truly see us as herbivores. But what can we do? We''ll ration the food we''ve hidden and try to hold out. If it runs out, we''ll gather the chieftains and plead with them, saying the fire burned all the grass and we have nothing to eat. They might throw us a little food to keep us alive," Pharos suggested, sighing.


    Yuran clenched his fists, trembling with suppressed rage. The fine fur on the back of his hands quivered.


    "This cannot go on. We''ve never received even a piece of meat. They take every animal we hunt for themselves, claiming it''s theirs. And we''re people too! Have you heard about the Black Goat Tribe? They took away a freshly caught buffalo, and when the tribe protested, they mocked them, saying, ''If you''re so desperate for meat, cook your own children.'' Then they threatened, ''If we don''t get our meat, we might just eat you instead.'' And the worst part? They weren''t joking."


    Pharos lowered his head, shame clouding his expression. This was why the Pamir Empire was shunned by others on the Rubel continent. Many tribes with strong beastfolk bloodlines practiced cannibalism, the Lion Paw Tribe being a prime example.


    Yuran stared at Pharos, whose gaze avoided him. "Pharos, how long does it take to reach the level of acceptance you''ve achieved in situations like this?" Yuran asked, his voice tinged with frustration.


    Pharos reached out with his gnarled hand, gripping Yuran''s trembling one. He saw in the young chieftain a reflection of his younger self, once burning with anger and despair. Yuran began to sob quietly, the rough texture of Pharos''s hand conveying the hardships he had endured.


    Pharos wasn''t a coward or an opportunist. He had always fought at the front lines, a seasoned warrior who had survived countless battles. He had simply come to terms with reality. Sear?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "We must become like trees, Yuran. Just stand firm, provide shade and fruit for our people, and endure. When our time comes, we''ll fall and become firewood. That''s the life we must live¡ªfor the sake of those who rely on us," Pharos said, his voice steady.


    Yuran hesitated. Pharos''s words revealed that he understood the dangerous thoughts swirling in Yuran''s mind. With a stern gaze resembling that of Yuran''s late father, Pharos admonished him. Yuran tried to pull his hand away, but Pharos held firm.


    "Remember this. No tribe that betrayed the Empire has survived. A few escaped to the Drago Mountains, but that was during the Empire''s early days. Don''t entertain reckless ideas. If we''re caught, every one of us will be torn apart. And even if we escape, what about those left behind in the territory?" Pharos''s sharp words drained the strength from Yuran''s hand, tears streaming down his face. Pharos gently patted his hand.


    "Don''t think too deeply about it. Just forget it all. There''s no place in this world without discrimination. If such a place existed, I''d be the first to go, but only if I could take even the youngest lamb of the tribe. But where would you find such a place?" Pharos concluded with a bitter laugh, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears.


    Forcing the herbs into Pharos''s hand, Yuran left and squeezed his body onto his rough cot. The tattered tent did little to block the cold winds of the plains. Shivering, he tried to sleep, but movement in the corner caught his eye.


    Startled, he sat up, only to be overpowered and pinned down. As he struggled, a familiar voice hushed him.


    "Shh! Yuran, it''s me. Stay still," the voice whispered.


    Yuran''s large eyes grew even wider as he stared at the figure emerging from the shadows.


    "Iskar?" he murmured.


    The previous night, Yuran, filled with renewed hope after Iskar''s sudden visit, began preparing for a secret meeting. The tribes he invited were carefully selected, chosen from among the most trustworthy individuals. These were people he could rely on completely.


    Among them, Yuran singled out the most agile and quick-thinking members, entrusting them with specific tasks. After spending the entire night pondering, he had finally decided to reveal his plan to the chosen tribes.


    Given the extreme tyranny of the five great tribes and the royal family, rallying the weaker tribes didn''t seem overly challenging. Still, Yuran took every precaution to mitigate the risk of betrayal. Even among these tribes, there were significant disparities. Tribes that weren''t part of the five great tribes but held some power often allied with the stronger ones, while others survived by scavenging the leftovers of such alliances.

 Chapter 192 - 192 Receiving Moldy Provisions!

    Thanks to his careful planning, 15 tribal chieftains gathered in Yuran''s tent that night.


    "Thank you for coming. I believe you have some idea why I''ve called you here," Yuran began.


    Known for his rebellious spirit among the weaker tribes, Yuran had a reputation that preceded him. The chieftains in attendance all shared one thing in common¡ªthey had each been severely wronged by the five great tribes or the royal family at some point. Pharos nodded, worry evident in his eyes.


    "So, after much deliberation, you''ve made up your mind?" Pharos asked.


    Yuran slowly scanned the room, his gaze reflecting years of pent-up frustration and anger. "Yes, I''ve thought this through and made my decision."


    He paused, letting his eyes meet each chieftain''s face in turn. Tension filled the air, but none of them seemed inclined to leave. With renewed determination, Yuran continued in a resolute tone.


    "How much longer are we going to live under their rule, having our resources stolen and our lives constantly threatened?" Yuran asked, clenching his fist as he stood. The chieftains nodded in unison, understanding his anger born of shared suffering.


    "Think about how many tribes have been wiped out due to their oppression. Take this battle, for example. Dangerous tasks always fall to us," Yuran said, pausing as he took a step closer to the gathered leaders.


    "If the five great tribes had taken the lead in this fight, the damage wouldn''t have been as severe. They have shamans to protect them and armor capable of resisting fire."


    The chieftains clenched their teeth at Yuran''s words, echoing thoughts they had harbored countless times before. Yuran pressed on with his speech.


    He began to outline the plan Iskar had shared with him the night before. Though the suddenness of the proposal surprised everyone, they received it positively. After all, continuing as they were meant certain death on the battlefield. And if the men died, leaving only women and the elderly behind, their tribes would eventually be driven from their lands and face extinction.


    In such dire circumstances, it was better to take a chance, even if it meant risking their lives. If the plan succeeded, they and their people could finally escape their oppressive existence.


    As the night deepened, the resolve of the weaker tribes only grew stronger.


    Meanwhile, Elise warmly welcomed her husband, who returned in low spirits. Randolph, visibly dejected, had left with grand ambitions and even left behind a letter of resolve, yet he had achieved nothing of note.


    He had hoped to seize an opportunity to earn merit once fighting broke out near the fortress, but the foolish enemy fell into traps and never even approached the stronghold.


    "Elise, I couldn''t find an opportunity. Earning merit is proving to be very difficult," Randolph lamented.


    Elise, placing his head on her lap, gently stroked his hair. Her hands glowed faintly red, infused with external energy. However, the crown prince, lying with his eyes closed, was unaware of this. He simply found his wife''s touch warm and comforting.


    "Don''t worry, my love. Your chance will come someday," Elise whispered soothingly.


    Her power, however, clouded the prince''s judgment and brought out his impulsive nature. As he continued making poor decisions, he would either succumb to the weight of his mistakes or meet his end at the hands of allies who could no longer tolerate him.


    "The soldiers don''t follow my orders properly. Their training is inadequate¡ªit''s a complete mess," Randolph complained.


    In response, Elise whispered even more sweetly. "Then why not recruit other nobles? Gather those in desperate need of gold. Offer them enough, and they''ll follow you."


    Randolph closed his eyes, pondering her words. Her touch was so soft that he felt a sense of drowsy contentment.


    "Yes, enlisting barons with a rough disposition might work. They may be unruly, but they''re strong. If I offer enough gold, they''ll do as I ask. But¡­ where would I get the gold?" he asked.


    Elise continued to caress his hair with care. Randolph felt his mind growing hazy and his body lethargic. The feeling was too pleasant to resist.


    "What about targeting merchants?" Elise suggested. "Find unscrupulous traders and exchange low-quality goods for money or supplies. Then, give those supplies to Michael and his followers to throw them off balance. Doesn''t that sound like a good plan, my love?"


    Caught in a haze, Randolph smiled. He had lost all sense of judgment.


    "Yes, that could work," he agreed. S§×ar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    At the Orlando Fortress encampment, Michael sat across from Lawrence, the financial overseer of the Crassus family and the man in charge of supplies for the war. Michael''s expression was grave.


    "Moldy provisions were given to the soldiers?" Michael asked, his tone sharp.


    Lowering his gaze, Lawrence nodded solemnly. "Yes, my lord. More than half of the grain we received was moldy, and the remaining half was of poor quality, mixed with bran. I checked the supplies of other families, and while the ratios varied, most of their provisions were in similar condition."


    After finishing his report, Lawrence signaled a nearby soldier, who poured a sack of grain onto a mat. As Lawrence described, the quality of the grain was clearly poor, with visible mold.


    Though it had rained recently, there was no excuse for distributing provisions in such a state. Frowning, Michael recalled the face of Crown Prince Randolph, who had been assigned to handle supply logistics and fortress repairs in the rear.


    Whether this was an intentional move by the crown prince or a result of his subordinate''s corruption, Randolph couldn''t escape responsibility. Michael sighed and gave Lawrence his next instructions.


    "Inspect the provisions of each family, and if you find any moldy or low-quality food, confiscate it," Michael ordered. He paused briefly, deliberating, before making his decision. Such actions required stern punishment to eradicate the problem at its root.


    "Also, go to the food storage facility, check the ledgers, and examine the identification tags on the grain sacks. Bring back all the grain purchased from the same merchant," he instructed Lawrence.


    Michael then turned to Sir Ronald, who was standing nearby, visibly fuming. "Sir Ronald, have your retainers locate the supply officer responsible for this batch of provisions. If there are any merchants involved, apprehend them as well."


    Ronald, who had been brimming with discontent, grinned broadly and dashed off. Whoever the supply officer was, they would undoubtedly face a harsh reckoning at Ronald''s hands.

 Chapter 193 - 193 Executing Garfield

    Before long, Ronald returned, dragging a badly beaten knight whose face was almost unrecognizable. He flung the man to the ground.


    "My lord, this is Sir Garfield, the one assigned to handle the supplies for the Rania troops. I learned that the original supply officer was suddenly replaced not long ago. As for the merchant involved, it seems they''ve fled, so I''ve issued a warrant for their capture," Ronald reported.


    "Hm. I see he put up quite a fight," Michael remarked.


    "Yes, very much so," Ronald replied, exchanging amused glances with Michael.


    The beaten knight, Sir Garfield, forced his swollen mouth open to protest. "Count Michael! Even as commander-in-chief, you have no right to treat a fellow noble this way. I am under direct orders from His Highness, the Crown Prince¡ª"


    "Silence!" Michael''s voice cut through like ice. "If you have eyes, then look at this grain. Does this appear to be fit for consumption? You dare invoke the Crown Prince''s name after distributing such provisions to soldiers headed to battle?"


    Startled by Michael''s intensity, Sir Garfield darted his eyes around, scrambling for excuses. "Th-that''s because of the recent rains. It was an unavoidable natural disaster. Please understand!" he stammered.


    Michael let out a hollow laugh. "Are you saying you left the provisions outside in the rain? Is that what happened?"


    "I-I wasn''t the supply officer then. You should question the previous officer about that," Garfield retorted, his neck stiff with defiance.


    Unable to tolerate his lies any longer, Michael took the ledger from Lawrence. The records clearly detailed the dates of grain acquisition and distribution. Beads of sweat began to form on Garfield''s brow.


    "Your lies are quite impressive," Michael said mockingly. "Are you telling me you didn''t know the grain sacks were tagged? This grain was purchased yesterday from the merchant you dealt with."


    "Then it must have been the merchant''s negligence!" Garfield exclaimed.


    "Do you think I''m blind? I anticipated this excuse and had all the grain purchased from that merchant brought here. Look for yourself."


    At Michael''s command, the confiscated grain was emptied out. Every sack contained moldy, poorly processed grain unfit even for livestock.


    "You mean to tell me that as a supply officer, you didn''t even inspect the grain you purchased? And why did you buy additional provisions when there was already plenty in storage?" Michael demanded.


    Unable to conjure another excuse, Garfield collapsed to his knees and wailed. "I-I was wrong! It wasn''t intentional. The merchant, a friend, promised me a good price if I bought it in advance. I just... wasn''t thorough in checking!"


    He glanced up at Michael, searching for any sign of leniency. Both Garfield and Michael knew this had been done under orders from the Crown Prince. Since a superior was implicated, Garfield likely assumed the punishment would be lenient.


    "It''s true that I was negligent, but I swear I meant no harm. Please forgive me! I''ll ensure it never happens again," Garfield pleaded.


    Michael regarded him coldly, his expression unreadable. The cause of this incident was obvious. Crown Prince Randolph had likely orchestrated this to hinder Michael and the soldiers of the Northeastern Province, while simultaneously lining his own coffers.


    This behavior puzzled Michael. Randolph had not always been so reckless. What could have driven him to such extremes? Was it merely greed for command, or was there something more sinister at play?


    As Michael deliberated, Duke Capone hurried over, having heard of the supply crisis. Perhaps replacing the supply officer at the Crown Prince''s request had been a mistake, Capone thought bitterly. He chastised himself for his lack of judgment.


    Surveying the ruined grain and the sobbing Sir Garfield, Capone began to grasp the situation. He approached Michael and whispered cautiously, "Count Michael, please show mercy. His Highness must have been momentarily clouded in judgment. This man is one of His Highness''s aides¡ª"


    Michael interrupted him firmly. "Your Grace, such actions cannot be forgiven."


    Capone averted his gaze, unable to refute Michael''s stern logic. The crime was undeniable, and even he couldn''t continue to defend the Crown Prince.


    "I''ve already issued orders that any collaboration with merchants to divert supplies or introduce substandard military goods would be punishable by death," Michael said coldly.


    He leaned closer to Capone and whispered, "Out of respect for His Highness''s dignity, I''ll settle this by taking this man''s life. Let''s not speak further on the matter."


    Capone stepped back, resigned. He should be grateful Michael wasn''t delving further into the issue. S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael unsheathed his sword. Sir Garfield, still unaware of his fate, craned his neck, perhaps hoping the Crown Prince would arrive to save him. Michael silently recited a prayer for the dead as he swung his sword cleanly through Garfield''s neck. Blood gushed out like a fountain, but Garfield''s expression remained dazed, as if he didn''t comprehend what had just happened.


    The surrounding soldiers stood in grim silence, staring at the lifeless body. Holding up Garfield''s severed head, Michael declared sternly, "Let this be a warning: anyone caught colluding with merchants to provide substandard military goods or stealing supplies will be executed on the spot, regardless of rank. Do you understand?"


    "Yes, sir!" The soldiers responded in unison. Seeing a noble knight executed, none would dare tamper with military supplies.


    Duke Capone sighed deeply. It had come to this. He began to doubt the Crown Prince''s character. Difficult times reveal a person''s true nature, and Randolph''s had been nothing short of disappointing. Capone had no idea that Elise, under the influence of external forces, was goading Randolph into impulsive decisions. The Crown Prince was no longer the man he used to be.


    Michael ordered Garfield''s body to be wrapped in a rough mat and buried. A man like him wasn''t even worth expending further effort. At the same time, Michael steeled himself for the inevitable conflict with the Crown Prince. Having executed a corrupt officer tied to Randolph''s orders, confrontation was unavoidable.


    Now that things had come to this, there was no room for hesitation. People reap what they sow. For Michael, leaving Randolph unchecked was no longer an option¡ªnot even for his own safety.

 Chapter 194 - 194 The Crown Prince Acting Recklessly

    Randolph stormed around his tent, trembling with rage. His plan to gather allies through gold had crumbled from the outset. Veins bulged on his flushed forehead, sweat beading and dripping down. His face was red enough to seem as though it might burst.


    Seething, Randolph struck one of the tent''s supporting pillars and bellowed, "How dare he! Executing Garfield, knowing full well he was one of my aides? This is an affront to the royal family! Treason!"


    His furious kicks sent the table bearing the map clattering to the ground. Still unsatisfied, he picked up a chair and hurled it. The finely crafted yew chair shattered on impact, its splinters grazing his cheek.


    Momentarily startled by the pain, Randolph tried to collect himself but failed. His mind remained foggy, his heart racing wildly. Anxiety gnawed at him, and his thoughts turned increasingly extreme.


    He began to see Michael, who had carried out Garfield''s execution, and Duke Capone, who had stood by silently, as co-conspirators. The more he reflected, the more plausible it seemed. Randolph''s face contorted with suspicion and fury. Sear?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "They''re all in this together! They''re scheming to deceive me. If this continues, the kingdom will fall! Only I can correct this mess¡­ damn it!" Randolph gripped his sword tightly, his imagination conjuring images of Michael and Duke Capone mocking him behind his back. If they were before him now, he would strike them down without hesitation.


    Overwhelming waves of anger consumed him. He clutched his head with both hands and stomped his feet, his throbbing temples making him feel as if his skull might burst. His bloodshot eyes blazed as he roared, thrashing wildly.


    Sir Philip watched from the corner of the tent, his pale face betraying his regret at choosing to align with Randolph. The crown prince had grown increasingly unhinged. In the past, he had been stubborn and arrogant but not intolerable, considering his position. Now, he seemed no less than a madman.


    Philip could not fathom why Randolph had tampered with the food supplies just to hoard gold. Even with additional funds, the most he could recruit were a few infamous barons known for extorting tolls and looting nearby lands. Such forces would be of little use in a real battle¡ªwhy would the crown prince resort to such disgraceful tactics?


    Fearing he might become the target of Randolph''s wrath, Philip kept as far back as possible, his body crouched low. He dared not intervene, worried the crown prince''s fury might turn on him.


    Yet despite his efforts to avoid notice, Randolph''s crimson eyes landed squarely on Philip. Frozen in place, Philip couldn''t move, his fear rendering him as still as a statue.


    Though Randolph''s appearance was unchanged, there was something disturbingly unfamiliar about him. A low growl escaped from his throat, more beastlike than human.


    "Sir Philip, we ride to the battlefield today¡ªno matter what. I must show them what I''m capable of. Do you understand?" Randolph growled.


    Philip could only nod silently. He felt as if he were riding a runaway horse, unable to dismount or steer. There was no way out.


    At dawn, Michael convened the magicians again to prepare the second trap. Timing was crucial for this one, requiring careful, sequential coordination. The magicians reviewed their assignments meticulously.


    As Michael worked with them, Alex, his attendant, rushed over, his face pale with urgency. Michael had tasked Alex with monitoring Randolph''s movements, so he immediately stepped aside to a quieter spot to hear the report.


    "Master, Crown Prince Randolph has left through the western gate with cavalry and soldiers. Baron Philip is accompanying him," Alex reported, panting.


    Michael handed him a water flask, allowing Alex to gulp down the liquid. After catching his breath, Alex continued with a steadier voice.


    "Baron Philip led the procession and told the soldiers guarding the gate that they were going to scout the area and inspect the traps before returning. The crown prince was hidden among the cavalry."


    Despite the sudden and reckless nature of Randolph''s actions, Michael remained calm. He had expected something like this.


    "What was the crown prince wearing when he left?" Michael asked unexpectedly.


    Momentarily surprised, Alex quickly answered, "Now that you mention it, he wasn''t wearing his usual attire. He left in plain clothes."


    Randolph, who typically dressed in lavish outfits befitting his status, had chosen simple clothing¡ªa clear sign of his intent. He wanted to earn merit not as a crown prince but as a knight. Michael smirked coldly. Randolph was walking into his own doom.


    "This must remain confidential. As far as anyone is concerned, I''ve heard nothing. Do you understand?" Michael said sternly.


    Alex, a politically savvy knight-in-training, immediately grasped his master''s intentions and nodded solemnly. "You needn''t worry, Master. I''ll handle it carefully. The soldiers at the western gate didn''t even realize the crown prince was among them."


    Pleased with Alex''s quick wit, Michael promised him a reward for his diligence. He then entered his tent and called for Iskar.


    Emerging from the shadows where he had been standing guard, Iskar approached. Michael leaned in close, his voice a hushed whisper. The command he was about to issue was one no one could know.


    "The crown prince is acting recklessly. Follow him, and ensure he doesn''t die. Remember, his life must be preserved."


    Iskar nodded, fully understanding the implications of Michael''s words. As a former assassin, he knew precisely what his master meant.


    "Yes, I''ll make sure he only survives," Iskar replied.


    Michael smiled faintly, confident in Iskar''s comprehension. The sole heir to the royal family could not be allowed to perish. As a noble sworn to the crown, Michael could not permit such a disaster.


    Randolph''s fate seemed inevitable. A prince raised in the comfort of a sheltered palace, witnessing the horrors of war and losing his sanity was entirely plausible. If he were to waste away and die after such an ordeal, it could hardly be helped. After all, such an end would still be better than dying outright on the battlefield.

 Chapter 195 - 195 The Crown Princes Downfall

    Confident as he departed the fortress, Randolph gradually found himself overwhelmed by the feeling that something was amiss. His intentions had been clear when he left: to flank the enemy''s camp, launch a surprise attack, and capture the crown prince of the Pamir Empire.


    To that end, he had even brought one of the royal treasures, an artifact capable of cloaking its wearer''s presence and rendering them invisible. With this artifact and mounted on his griffon, Randolph believed he could easily infiltrate the enemy camp, cause confusion, and achieve his goal. After all, hadn''t Michael managed to assassinate enemy commanders with just a small group of elite operatives?


    The plan appeared sound in theory: unleash thousands of soldiers to sow chaos in the enemy camp, while a single, invisible warrior captured their leader. However, the plan''s success hinged on several critical conditions.


    Accurate intelligence about the enemy camp was essential.The artifact''s functionality had to remain consistent, even during combat, which required the user to have trained extensively with it. The artifact wasn''t all-powerful¡ªit demanded mental fortitude from its wielder.The individual tasked with capturing the enemy leader needed to be experienced, decisive, and highly skilled in combat.The soldiers and knights involved needed to be disciplined, cooperative, and well-trained.


    Unfortunately, Randolph and his forces failed to meet any of these criteria.


    As time passed, Randolph''s initial confidence waned. The further he distanced himself from Elise''s influence, the clearer his mind became, and his returning judgment began to sound alarms. The haze that had clouded his thoughts lifted, revealing the flaws in his plan. But by then, it was too late.


    The ambush failed catastrophically. The 5,000 cavalry he had led were annihilated in an instant. They were discovered before they could breach the enemy camp''s defenses and were quickly decimated. Randolph had believed their movements were cautious, but the enemy had known of their approach all along.


    As soon as they neared the enemy camp, a relentless rain of arrows descended upon them. Caught off guard and disorganized, Randolph''s forces were soon surrounded. The mocking, incredulous stares of the enemy soldiers remained etched in Randolph''s memory. They couldn''t comprehend how such an unprepared force could have dared to attack.


    Baron Philip, who had previously boasted with grand words, vanished during the chaos. Whether he fled to save himself or perished was unknown.


    Seeing no other option, Randolph shouted for his men to retreat. Scattered and confused, the soldiers fled in all directions. Randolph, too, managed to escape amidst the chaos, riding his griffon. However, he wasn''t entirely free; enemy pursuers trailed him closely.


    As Randolph frantically urged his griffon to flee, his confidence crumbled entirely. He tried to maintain his invisibility using the artifact, but his scattered thoughts rendered it ineffective.


    Flying away was impossible. His griffon, a loyal companion for years, had been targeted during the battle. Its wings had been shattered by concentrated attacks, leaving it unable to take flight. The sight of the griffon struggling to save him, despite its injuries, filled Randolph with indescribable sorrow.


    As the griffon staggered away, covered in blood, a ballista bolt struck it, delivering a fatal blow. The creature collapsed, looking up at Randolph with dimming eyes. Letting out a final cry, the griffon closed its eyes forever. Randolph stroked its feathers and leaned against its still-warm body.


    "So, this is how it ends," he thought bitterly. "Father, Mother, Astrid¡­ Elise¡­"


    With his returning clarity, Randolph began to see Elise in a suspicious light. If he died here, she would ascend to the royal family as a legitimate crown princess. The realization twisted his heart.


    Blaming his incompetence, Randolph wept. Fortunately, he wore plain clothes, concealing his identity as the crown prince of Lania. If the enemy had discovered who he was, they would have captured him and forced him to sign a humiliating treaty.


    This, he thought bitterly, might be the only contribution he had made to his kingdom.


    Leaning against the body of his fallen companion, Randolph''s thoughts wandered to his first meeting with Michael. He remembered that day vividly, approaching to admire the sphinxes and dragons, feeling radiant and full of potential. A single tear slid down his cheek as he recalled the past.


    Resigned to his fate, Randolph opened his eyes, determined to face death with dignity. But his surroundings darkened. Cold, black shadows began to encroach on him.


    "What is this¡­?" he murmured, stopping his hand mid-stroke on the griffon''s feathers.


    The shadows around him moved as though alive, slithering like a serpent''s tongue. They extended toward him, and though he tried to recoil, his strength had left him. Randolph was drawn into the darkness, his body growing colder with each passing moment, until he lost consciousness.


    Iskar loomed over Randolph, his expression impassive. For someone destined to inherit a kingdom, the crown prince was remarkably inept. Approaching Randolph, Iskar extended a hand to his head. The shadows, controlled with precision, began to dismantle Randolph''s mind.


    Even as he reduced a man to a hollow shell, Iskar felt no guilt. Randolph''s past actions had been foolish enough; becoming a true simpleton might be an improvement. At the very least, it ensured that he would no longer pose a threat to Michael.


    ...


    Princess Elise felt an instinctive fear under Duke Capone''s gaze, her shoulders trembling slightly. His piercing eyes were sharp and cold, reminiscent of a serpent''s stare. S~ea??h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As a princess raised in the royal court, where she''d been privy to the kingdom''s secrets, Elise had no trouble guessing why the duke was looking at her with such suspicion. Her entire body stiffened under the weight of that gaze, but she refused to give up so easily. The thought of stopping now was unbearable.


    Drawing on her usual charm, Elise struck a delicate, vulnerable pose, emphasizing her slender waist and contrastingly full chest. Her voice, soft and imploring, carried a calculated undertone as she spoke.


    "For His Highness''s recovery, I believe it would be best to leave this fortress. Given my condition, accompanying him to the Lania palace would be ideal¡­"

 Chapter 196 - 196 A Fool Who Thinks the Sun Spins Around Her

    Before she could finish, Duke Capone''s cold, mocking gaze cut her off. A faint smirk played at his lips as he replied bluntly.


    "How could he possibly travel in such a state? Furthermore, the royal elders have yet to grant their approval for your union. It would be wise for you to restrain yourself, Your Highness."


    His words were pointed, making it clear that the child she carried was not formally recognized by the royal family and was no better than illegitimate. Elise bit her lip, swallowing her growing fury as her heart raced. Her anger swelled to the point of eruption.


    She couldn''t endure this any longer. Her face pale, Elise clenched her fists and shouted with gritted teeth.


    "His Highness and I vowed our union under the witness of a priest! I am the rightful princess of Elonia!"


    She raised her voice, desperately defending herself. "The child conceived between His Highness and me has every right to be treated with dignity and respect!"


    Duke Capone, however, simply scoffed at her words, his eyes gleaming with disdain. There wasn''t a shred of sympathy in his expression as he responded in a deliberately slow tone.


    "I must say, I have no recollection of any such ceremony between you and His Highness. Without his testimony, what reason do I have to believe your claims?"


    Armed with his unshakable confidence, the duke remained brazen in his stance. Even if he appeared heartless, it didn''t matter. With the Crown Prince in such a state, the royal family of Elonia had no gains to extract from this union.


    Since no formal betrothal or public marriage vow had taken place, and with the child still unborn, dissolving the alliance was likely what the Elonian royal court desired. After all, if the child simply ceased to exist, everyone could move on.


    In the duke''s eyes, it might even be better for Elise in the long run. While parting from someone she loved might be painful, this chapter would eventually pass.


    Of course, this assumption stemmed from the duke''s ignorance of Elise''s true intentions. Had he known her plans, his perspective would have been very different.


    Elise, on the other hand, felt as though her insides were burning. She realized how dire her situation was and instinctively grabbed the duke''s hand in desperation. She had only one option left.


    Her pale, slender fingers wrapped around his calloused hand. For a brief moment, Duke Capone swayed, his head spinning, but Elise pressed on unfazed.


    "Please, Duke, believe me. I swear it''s the truth. My handmaidens can all testify to it."


    As she spoke, an otherworldly energy emanated from her. The air around them filled with an intoxicatingly sweet aroma, subtle but pervasive. It clouded the duke''s consciousness, and his eyes wavered as if entranced by Elise''s ethereal beauty.


    "Is she trying to seduce the duke now?"


    Michael, observing the exchange, narrowed his eyes, seeing through Elise''s ploy. He quickly decided to intervene, activating his abilities.


    The energy radiating from Michael enveloped Elise''s seductive aura, snuffing it out almost instantly. The sweetness in the air dissipated as if swept away by a sudden gust of wind.


    Duke Capone snapped back to his senses, shaking his head as if emerging from a fog. A cold sweat trickled down his back as he shuddered with instinctive fear.


    "What was I thinking?"


    The duke was horrified by the illusions that had momentarily overtaken him. Something was deeply wrong. He had no untoward intentions toward the princess, yet the moment she touched him, he was overwhelmed by a flood of vivid fantasies. S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Years of rationality and moral discipline had been swept away in an instant. This wasn''t ordinary physical contact¡ªit was unmistakably the work of a supernatural force. His fingertips trembled, and his body felt paralyzed with primal dread.


    Startled, the duke forcefully pulled his hand away from Elise.


    "Behave yourself, Princess!"


    His cold voice echoed through the room. The composed, calculating expression he had worn moments before was gone, replaced by one of outrage and disgust, as though he''d narrowly escaped something shameful.


    "Your actions only deepen my suspicions," he added icily. Even her seemingly innocent eyes, gazing at him now, repelled him. He was convinced that every move she made was an intentional deception. This was sorcery.


    Elise was stunned, her pride shattered. Ever since she had accepted the power of the otherworldly force, no man had been able to resist her allure. All had willingly fallen for her, worshipping her of their own accord. But now, she had been treated like a common charlatan. To her, this was an unbearable humiliation.


    Seeing the duke''s cold, disdainful eyes, as though he were looking at a temptress of the highest order, filled Elise with shame and anger. But she quickly suppressed her frustration, forcing her mind to work rapidly.


    Her attempt to seduce Duke Capone had failed, and she needed an escape plan. Even if she presented letters left behind by the Crown Prince, they would dismiss them outright if they chose not to acknowledge them.


    Her eyes darted around the room, searching for a way out. Now that her tricks had been uncovered, she knew an investigation would soon follow.


    The consequences were clear to Elise: at best, she would be confined; at worst, she might face execution by fire. Desperate, she clutched her stomach and let out a pained scream. It was a worn-out tactic, but one that always worked. All she needed to do was double over, trembling with an expression of agony, and they would summon the healer.


    In the commotion, she planned to announce to everyone that she was carrying the Crown Prince''s child.


    "A-ah¡­ my stomach! The baby, my baby!" she cried out in anguish.


    Her desperate scream momentarily halted Duke Capone, who froze in place, bewildered. He instinctively glanced around the room, his eyes meeting Michael''s. The duke hesitated for a moment, torn between his emotions and duty, before silently questioning himself.


    "Is this decision truly impartial? Can I claim it''s entirely for the kingdom?"

 Chapter 197 - 197 Foolish Games Only Played By Fools

    After a moment of deliberation, he nodded. It wasn''t just personal¡ªthis was for the safety and stability of the kingdom. For the sake of maintaining the fragile alliance between Elonia and Lania, this disgraceful matter had to be handled quietly.


    Even if the unborn child was the Crown Prince''s only heir, the stability of the nation came first. Given Randolph''s incompetence and current state, the duke reasoned it would be better if the child never came to term. For the sake of the kingdom''s succession plan, he had to harden his heart. King Charles V would have made the same decision, he assured himself.


    Resolute, Duke Capone turned his head coldly. The child must be lost. Seeing the duke''s steely determination, Michael remained silent, understanding the unspoken agreement.


    This world was ruthless. Elise had indulged in grand illusions, naively believing the world could be bent to her will. Born into privilege, admired by all, she had harbored ambitions that exceeded her grasp. But she hadn''t understood the harsh reality of this world.


    Randolph was no different. He had disappointed everyone with his reckless actions, unbefitting of his noble status, and now found himself in a pitiable state. In a world where a single poor harvest could claim countless lives, the consequences of misguided decisions were far worse.


    They were merely paying the price for their choices.


    In the heavy silence, Elise began to realize she had misjudged the situation. These men had no intention of sparing the child. Her wide eyes filled with disbelief as she comprehended their resolve.


    In this moment, her beauty, status, and lineage offered her no protection. She stopped screaming and, with a hoarse voice, asked a single question.


    "Will my status remain intact?"


    Duke Capone, his gaze cold and unyielding, finally spoke.


    "That will depend on the agreement between the two royal families. Your safety will be assured, of course¡ªbut first, there will be an investigation into that peculiar power of yours."


    Elise laughed bitterly, her voice ringing with defiance.


    "Ahaha, an investigation? I am a princess of Elonia! No one has the right to investigate me. Let them try, but I will demand a public trial. Can your kingdoms handle the scandal?"


    Her laughter left Duke Capone momentarily speechless. As a royal, she had the right to dictate the terms of her trial, a privilege that left the duke at a loss.


    Seizing the moment, Elise reached out to him once more. Half-mad with desperation, she tried to seduce him again.


    "Come, come closer¡­"


    Before she could proceed, the duke suddenly collapsed. Unseen by her, Michael had moved behind him and struck the back of his head to render him unconscious.


    Elise''s eyes widened in shock as she looked down at the fallen duke, then turned her gaze to Michael. Realization dawned¡ªthis was why her powers had failed earlier.


    "You¡­ How? How did you¡­?"


    Her voice was filled with panic. Beneath her fear, anger and confusion simmered. How could Michael nullify the power of the otherworldly force she had wielded so effortlessly?


    Michael met her gaze with a faint, bitter smile but offered no explanation. He saw no need. With events having escalated to this point, there was no room for negotiation.


    Slowly, he stepped toward her, reaching out his hand. Elise flinched and recoiled, but there was nowhere to run.


    As his hand neared her, she curled into herself, trembling with fear. With her powers neutralized, she was no longer a formidable figure¡ªonly a frightened, vulnerable girl.


    Michael''s hand rested on her shoulder, and Elise shuddered instinctively. His touch was neither rough nor violent, but it carried an overwhelming sense of finality.


    The potent energy that had made her the object of everyone''s adoration began to drain away. Elise could feel it being drawn into Michael, leaving her hollow.


    It felt as though the very foundation of her being was disappearing. She realized with growing dread that she would never regain that power. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    No longer would she be loved.


    Michael absorbed the energy flowing from her, fighting to remain composed as its overwhelming strength coursed through him. Exhaling deeply, he opened his eyes, his expression calm and unshaken.


    Elise stared at him, her face a mixture of awe and terror. She couldn''t comprehend what kind of being could so easily absorb the force she had relied upon. Her voice trembled as she asked,


    "Who¡­ who are you? How can a human¡­?"


    Michael gazed at her impassively, his silence cutting deeper than words. After a moment, he spoke into an earring he carried.


    "Leonardo."


    He called for Leonardo to perform the same procedure on Elise that he had carried out on Crown Prince Randolph. The foolish games of the prince and princess had ultimately led to the ruin of them both.


    ...


    Charles V let out a deep sigh, cradling his head in his hands. Gentle sunlight streamed through the large window, but it did little to dispel the heavy weight on his heart.


    His gaze rested on the two figures lying in the bed before him: Crown Prince Randolph and Princess Elise. The ornate purple and gold quilt accentuated their pale faces, stark reminders of their fragile states.


    The queen, his beloved wife, had taken to bed upon hearing that their only son had been reduced to a shell of himself following a catastrophic failure. The memory of her collapsing in tears only deepened the ache in Charles''s chest.


    Standing beside him, Duke Capone regarded the king with a look of sympathy. As a father himself, the duke could understand the pain Charles V was enduring. But that did not mean he would distort the truth to absolve Randolph of his actions.


    Charles had flown to the fortress immediately upon learning of his son''s condition. After gently stroking the Crown Prince''s lifeless face, he turned away, unable to bear the sight any longer. His long-time friend and royal kinsman, Duke Capone, met his gaze. After a prolonged silence, Charles spoke, his voice trembling.


    "Are all the mistakes attributed to the Crown Prince¡­ true?"

 Chapter 198 - 198 Resolving the Crisis

    His denial, an almost pitiful attempt to lessen his son''s culpability, tugged at the heartstrings. But the scale of Randolph''s misdeeds far exceeded what could be dismissed as mere mistakes. Resolving to confront the truth, Duke Capone began to explain.


    "Your Majesty, I regret to inform you that the reports you have received barely scratch the surface. Forgive me for speaking so bluntly, but I must speak as a friend, not as your subject."


    Charles V nodded heavily, knowing full well his son''s impulsive temperament and arrogance. While these traits had seemed manageable within the palace, they had wrought havoc on the battlefield.


    Understanding the king''s anguish, Duke Capone shifted the focus to Princess Elise, highlighting her suspicious behavior.


    "I had my doubts about the princess, Your Majesty. From their sudden secret marriage to the Crown Prince''s impulsive decisions, there were too many inexplicable elements. Thus, I summoned her for questioning."


    In truth, it was Michael who had brought Elise in, but the duke saw no harm in taking credit to bolster his position. As the narrative turned to Elise''s role in seducing and goading the Crown Prince, Charles V clenched his fists in anger. His sharp gaze landed on the princess lying in the bed.


    "To think she used that beautiful face for such wickedness!"


    The king''s entire body trembled with rage at the thought of this enchantress who had ruined his precious son. Though Randolph''s current state was more a result of his own failures than Elise''s manipulations, a father''s bias clouded his judgment.


    Duke Capone, equally inclined to shift the blame away from the Crown Prince, escalated his condemnation of Elise.


    "The princess claims to be carrying His Highness''s child. However, considering the marriage was secret and less than a month old, the timing of this ''discovery'' is highly suspicious."


    The duke paused to gauge Charles''s reaction. Seeing no overt objection, he continued with some relief.


    "I indicated, as a member of the royal family''s council, that the child could not be accepted. Forgive me if I overstepped my bounds, Your Majesty."


    Charles offered the duke a consoling remark, sharing his sentiment.


    "You were right to act as you did, Capone. A child conceived under such circumstances would only sow discord, not unity."


    The king''s agreement was as expected. Randolph''s incompetence had already jeopardized the royal family, and introducing a child under these conditions, especially with Elise''s questionable loyalty, would only exacerbate the kingdom''s instability. The precarious state of the Elonian royal family, facing near-collapse, made the matter even more dire.


    "Such a tainted seed cannot be brought into the royal family. You did well, Duke."


    "Thank you, Your Majesty," the duke replied with a respectful bow. "When I revealed this to Princess Elise, she attempted to seduce me. But it wasn''t just ordinary seduction¡­ the moment she touched me, I was overwhelmed by hallucinations."


    As Duke Capone described Elise''s use of sorcery, Charles V''s face turned ashen. Unable to endure the mounting revelations, he sank back into his large leather chair. The old leather creaked under his weight, mirroring the strain on the king''s heart.


    On the table before him sat an untouched glass of wine. Charles toyed with the stem of the glass but ultimately set it down again.


    Across from him, a high-ranking priest sat with a solemn expression. Deep wrinkles etched across his face testified to years of devotion and wisdom. Dressed in a pristine white robe, his steely gaze reflected his unwavering duty. Though a cleric of the Church of Radiance, his loyalty to the royal family of Lania was beyond question.


    Charles V straightened his posture with a sigh, signaling that he had regained some composure. Duke Capone, recognizing the moment, resumed his account.


    "When confronted, the princess became enraged and feigned abdominal pain¡ªa transparent ploy, of course. But when I suggested investigating her strange powers, her demeanor shifted again. It was like watching a witch at work."


    The duke paused and exchanged a glance with the priest, who listened intently, his sharp eyes betraying no emotion.


    "Then she tried to overpower me and Count Michael. She unleashed some sort of monstrous force and attempted to flee. I lost consciousness due to her attack."


    Shaking his head as though to dispel the memory, Duke Capone lowered his head in a gesture of deference.


    Charles V, meanwhile, was still struggling to process the convoluted situation. A son reduced to a shell of himself, a princess wielding unnatural powers¡ªhow could such a nightmare be resolved? With a dry throat, he spoke in a subdued tone.


    "Given the circumstances, sacrificing Princess Elise may be the best course of action. The Elonian royal family will likely agree."


    He turned to the priest. "Baron, would you examine the princess?"


    The priest arched an eyebrow and approached Elise with measured steps. He touched her hair, clasped her hand, and conducted a series of careful examinations. When he finally shook his head with a puzzled expression, Charles V leaned forward anxiously.


    "Is it certain? Was she under the influence of the otherworldly force?"


    The priest released Elise''s hand and replied gravely.


    "It is certain. The foreign energy has vanished entirely, but traces of it remain unmistakable."


    Duke Capone exhaled in relief, recounting the chaotic events of that day once more.


    "According to Count Michael, the moment the princess grabbed my hand and cast her spell, a powerful backlash swept through the entire chamber. This room is not the original¡ªit had to be replaced after the previous one was destroyed." S§×arch* The N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    He glanced at Michael, who stood quietly by the door. Unlike before, the duke''s gaze held no warmth for him.


    When the duke regained consciousness that day, Elise had already miscarried, her blood staining the floor. Since then, she had remained unconscious, little more than a breathing doll.


    Michael''s explanation was logical and coherent, but Duke Capone couldn''t entirely dispel his doubts. Noticing the duke''s suspicions, Michael smirked inwardly. He knew it was only a matter of time before those doubts would vanish.

 Chapter 199 - 199 Where Did It All Go Wrong?

    Henry III began his ascent up the stone steps of the Orlando fortress, his steps heavy with the weight of his thoughts. His mind was a whirlwind of worry. Amid the chaos of the war with the Pamir Empire, he now had to clean up the mess his own child had created. The burden was almost unbearable.


    The queen had pleaded with him, weeping, to save their daughter, Princess Elise. But the reality Henry faced was harsh and unyielding. When he heard of Elise succumbing to the temptations of an otherworldly force and spiraling toward ruin, he felt as though the air had been knocked from his lungs.


    Already worn down by the war, this revelation struck him like another fatal blow.


    The corridors of the fortress were dim and somber. Flickering torches cast shadows that danced across the stone walls, adding to the oppressive atmosphere. The sound of Henry III''s heavy footsteps echoed through the long hallway.


    The air was cold, the old stone walls exuding a chill that seeped into his skin. Through a narrow window, he could see the devastated plains beyond¡ªa desolate landscape that only deepened his sorrow. How joyful had he been to hear the news of victory from this very fortress?


    Standing outside the chamber, Henry III paused to steady his breath. The time had come to face the truth.


    When he finally entered the room, his gaze fell on his daughter lying motionless on the bed. Her face was pale, devoid of the life and vibrance he once knew. The sight of the daughter he had cherished so dearly in such a state tore at his heart. S§×ar?h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Despite all her misdeeds, Henry III''s love for Elise remained unbroken. His eyes traced the outline of her face and fell on her frail hand, resting outside the blanket. He reached for it, wrapping his own fingers around hers.


    Her wrist was slender, her skin cold, yet her pulse still faintly throbbed. But that was all¡ªshe showed no signs of awareness. The otherworldly force had drained the very essence of her life.


    "Elise¡­" he murmured, her name escaping his lips like a sob. Kneeling by her bedside, Henry gripped her hand tightly. Memories of walking hand in hand through the royal gardens flashed through his mind. She had once been so radiant, her laughter as bright as the sun.


    "What happened to you?" His voice was thick with a mixture of anger and sorrow. Whatever Elise had done, she was still his daughter. But the situation left him no room for sentimentality. A decision had to be made.


    Faced with the responsibilities of a king and the love of a father, Henry III, as always, chose the former.


    Rising from his knees, Henry turned to face Charles V, who was seated in a shadowed corner of the room. Charles sat with his head bowed, hands resting on his knees, utterly still. His vacant expression betrayed the immense pain he was enduring.


    Henry felt the surge of emotions threatening to choke him. But he knew the moment had come for resolution.


    "We¡­ have much to discuss," Henry said, his voice trembling.


    Charles V, still clutching his hands tightly, responded without looking up. "¡­Indeed. Let us move somewhere more appropriate."


    Charles V and Henry III sat across from each other in a quiet reception room within the fortress. The two kings, once commanding and resolute, now looked pale and worn. Their faces were gaunt, and shadows under their eyes spoke of sleepless nights.


    The proud authority of their thrones had long since faded. They sat hunched, like old lions robbed of their strength.


    A cold draft blew through the stone chamber. The walls, aged and cracked, radiated the chill of winter. The fireplace held only the barest remnants of a fire, its faint warmth insufficient to banish the room''s cold.


    The table between them was strewn with papers and untouched wine glasses. Neither king had the will to drink; they avoided each other''s gaze, silently reflecting on the failures of their children.


    They had weathered countless battles and political struggles, but now they found themselves powerless against the fallout of their offspring''s reckless decisions.


    "Where did it all go wrong?" Charles V finally broke the silence, his voice low and dry.


    Henry III sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead with a hand that trembled from exhaustion. After a long pause, he replied, "I don''t know. They were children with so much potential for happiness."


    He had sent his daughter to Lania for political reasons, but when he heard of her falling in love, he had rejoiced. Yet their story had ended in tragedy.


    Charles V''s gaze shifted to the window. Outside, the night sky was clear, its stars shining brightly¡ªa cruel contrast to the darkness they faced. Henry III took a trembling sip from his wine glass, trying to steady himself.


    The dual weight of war with the Pamir Empire and the aftermath of their children''s actions cast a heavy shadow over both their faces.


    Summoning his resolve, Henry III looked directly at Charles V. Seeing the other king sitting there, clutching his hands with a vacant expression, Henry was struck by the cruelty of time. Memories of their shared past, even attending each other''s weddings, only deepened the ache.


    Suppressing the tears threatening to rise, Henry III finally spoke.


    "Let''s discuss how we''re going to handle this."


    His voice, breaking the silence, made Charles V lift his head abruptly. His eyes burned with a fierce intensity as he stared at Henry III. For a fleeting moment, Charles wanted to lash out, to speak the raw truth boiling within him.


    "Handle this? How do you propose we handle this mess your daughter has caused? Can you undo the damage and restore my son to his former self?"


    But he swallowed his words. Before being a grieving father, Charles was the leader of the Three Kingdoms Alliance. He couldn''t let his emotions dictate his actions. And deep down, he knew his son bore his share of responsibility.


    Exhaling a long sigh, Charles V spoke, his voice heavy with resignation. "Yes¡­ we must handle this. We must."

 Chapter 200 - 200 The World Of Nobility Is A Merciless Place

    Henry III noticed the unspoken pain lingering in Charles''s eyes and released a deep sigh of his own. The kingdom of Elonia was already on the brink of ruin, and now Elise''s actions had only worsened their position. He needed Lania''s support more than ever.


    But as a sovereign, even offering an apology came with immense difficulty. Every word he spoke had repercussions for his kingdom''s stability.


    "I never imagined things would turn out this way. That Elise would succumb to the temptations of the otherworldly force¡­ But this isn''t the time to assign blame. We must put personal grievances aside and think as clearly as we can."


    Charles V tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, fighting to keep his tears from falling.


    "Yes, I''ve lost my son, and you''ve lost your daughter," he said bitterly. "All of this because we failed to raise them properly. Let''s stop laying blame. Isn''t the punishment we''re enduring already enough?"


    Tears welled in Henry III''s eyes as well. No matter what anyone said, Elise was still his beloved daughter. Though she had succumbed to the allure of the otherworldly force and committed terrible acts, memories of her smiling brightly and playfully running around as a child flooded his mind.


    "Elise¡­ I''ll handle her myself," Henry said firmly. "If we leave her like this, it will only stir up controversy. To avoid future disputes¡­ I must make the difficult decision."


    While it seemed unlikely that she would ever awaken, Henry couldn''t ignore the possibility. The trace of the otherworldly power within her made her execution inevitable.


    Charles V nodded grimly, his face hardening. If she died, it would serve as a form of justice for his son.


    "My son¡­" Charles began but fell silent before he could finish. sea??h th§× N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    For all his ruthlessness toward his enemies, Charles had always been a devoted father. The thought of ending his son''s life was unbearable. But the kingdom demanded a decision. To prevent future disputes over the throne, he had no choice.


    The image of Randolph, vacant and drooling, flashed through his mind. Remembering his once-proud and arrogant son reduced to such a state, Charles concluded that death might be a blessing.


    Backed into a corner, Charles spoke in a voice choked with despair.


    "My son as well¡­ I will handle him. Remember this: Princess Elise and our Randolph¡­ they died suddenly of an illness. This matter must remain buried."


    Henry III nodded silently. Exposing royal scandals to the public would serve no one, especially during wartime. Regaining his composure, Henry added solemnly:


    "The soldiers who died alongside the Crown Prince will be recorded as having perished in another battle."


    A face flickered through Charles V''s mind¡ªa man who had spurred his son on, marched with him into battle, and then fled alone. Grinding his teeth, Charles responded with a grimace.


    "I will do the same. None involved in this matter will be left alive."


    In a forgotten corner of the Orlando fortress, an abandoned stable sat steeped in darkness. The damp, cold air carried the stench of decay, filtering through cracks in the wooden walls.


    Inside, a man was bound hand and foot to a sturdy wooden post, a gag stuffed in his mouth to stifle any cries. Tears streaked his face, smudging the dirt and sweat that clung to his skin. Once adorned in fine silks, his body was now encased only in ropes and chains.


    No matter how hard he struggled, the unyielding chains dug deeper into his flesh, amplifying his despair.


    Philip''s thoughts were a chaotic mess. When he had boldly accompanied Crown Prince Randolph into the Pamir Empire''s stronghold, his heart had been brimming with confidence. He had believed that every part of the plan was flawless, imagining himself basking in the same glory Michael so often achieved.


    But the brutal reality quickly set in. Watching soldiers die senselessly on the battlefield, Philip realized his folly. Michael''s victories had never been a matter of mere luck. They were the product of unparalleled skill and strategy¡ªqualities Philip lacked.


    Consumed by jealousy and inferiority, Philip had ultimately led himself to ruin. Amid the chaos, he had fled, abandoning both the soldiers and the Crown Prince to their fates. What did it matter what happened to them?


    Wandering the plains alone, starving and parched, Philip had made the reckless decision to return to the fortress. He had hoped to reclaim the treasures he had left behind and escape. But the hunger gnawing at him had dulled his judgment.


    And now, this was the cost.


    Terror churned in Philip''s heart. Death was imminent. Charles V would never forgive him for abandoning the Crown Prince on the battlefield.


    "I can''t die like this¡­ please¡­ someone save me! Father!"


    He screamed inwardly for his father, the Duke of Rochester, but all that escaped his gagged mouth were muffled sobs and whimpers. His vision blurred as cold sweat dripped from his brow. A cruel end awaited him.


    The stable door creaked open, and the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the space. Philip''s body trembled uncontrollably as Charles V stepped into the dim light. The king''s silhouette radiated cold fury.


    Philip writhed in his bonds, desperate to escape, but the chains held firm. Charles approached silently, his piercing gaze fixed on the man before him.


    Though Charles knew Philip wasn''t the true architect of his son''s downfall, he needed an outlet for his rage. And Philip, who had abandoned Randolph in his darkest hour, was the perfect target.


    "Do you admit to abandoning the Crown Prince and fleeing the battlefield?" Charles asked coldly.


    Philip shook his head frantically, tears streaming down his face. Charles stared at him for a long moment, his expression one of icy contempt.


    "You betrayed the Crown Prince. Worse, you betrayed the kingdom."


    Philip could only cry silently. He had fled to save his life, but now he had to pay the price.


    Charles raised a hand in a subtle signal. A knight stepped forward and removed Philip''s gag¡ªnot to grant him freedom, but to ensure that every scream of agony would echo through the stable.

 Chapter 201 - 201 The Sleepless Princess

    Charles raised a hand in a subtle signal. A knight stepped forward and removed Philip''s gag¡ªnot to grant him freedom, but to ensure that every scream of agony would echo through the stable.


    Charles seated himself in a nearby chair, his face devoid of emotion. With a nod, the torture began.


    As Philip''s bloodcurdling screams filled the air, Charles twitched a finger as if conducting a somber requiem for his son.


    Michael shrugged at the sounds of agony coming from the abandoned stable.


    He had just received news that two coffins had been carried out from the chambers where Elise and Randolph lay. Indeed, the world was a merciless place.


    In the royal palace of Lania, Princess Astrid paced barefoot across the cold marble floor of her chamber. The chill of the stone beneath her feet seemed to mirror the unease in her heart.


    The late-night silence of the palace was oppressive. Yet, amidst the stillness, Astrid sensed a palpable tension lingering in the air. News from the Orlando fortress had arrived, prompting her father to hastily depart for the frontlines while her mother locked herself in her chambers, refusing food and company.


    Astrid moved to the window, gazing out at the view below. From her room at the highest point of the palace, the gardens spread out like a painted masterpiece. As always, the royal gardens of Lania were immaculately maintained. Under the soft glow of the moonlight, blooming roses shimmered faintly.


    Ordinarily, the serene beauty of the scene would have brought her comfort, but tonight, it offered no solace. As she stared at the gardens, her thoughts grew heavier. A foreboding feeling gripped her chest, tightening with every breath.


    From a distance, Emma, the nursemaid who had cared for Astrid since childhood, watched the young princess anxiously. After a moment of hesitation, Emma approached her quietly, draping a shawl over Astrid''s shoulders.


    "Princess, you shouldn''t walk around barefoot like this. Please, return to bed," Emma pleaded gently.


    Astrid turned to Emma, her eyes clouded with unease. After a long moment of hesitation, she finally asked, "Emma, tell me the truth. What rumors are spreading through the palace?"


    Emma froze, startled by the sudden question. Astrid, typically reserved and rarely one to voice her thoughts, was looking at her with an intensity that made it impossible to deflect the question.


    ''My poor princess¡­'' Emma thought, her heart aching with pity. She wanted nothing more than to embrace Astrid and assure her that everything would be fine. But the rumors circulating the palace were grim.


    "Princess," Emma began cautiously, "you must steel yourself. Things are¡­ dire. There''s a rumor that Crown Prince Randolph has¡­ fallen in battle."


    Emma braced herself, expecting Astrid to break down in tears. She couldn''t imagine the gentle and soft-spoken princess bearing such devastating news. But to her surprise, Astrid remained calm, her expression composed. After a brief silence, she spoke.


    "If my brother had died in battle, my father wouldn''t have rushed to the fortress," Astrid reasoned. "I think he''s injured¡­ or ill."


    Or perhaps¡­ he''s done something reckless. Astrid bit her lip, swallowing the thought before it could escape. She couldn''t bring herself to say it aloud, though it seemed the most likely possibility.


    Emma, caught off guard by the princess''s rationality, fumbled for a response. "Well¡­ that''s something only the gods can know. Everything happens by their will."


    Astrid gazed at Emma in silence, her expression unreadable. Though she appreciated Emma''s unwavering loyalty, she knew the nursemaid wasn''t someone she could confide in deeply. But then again¡­ there was no one else she could turn to.


    "Emma, I hope my brother is safe," Astrid finally said, her voice barely audible. "If he isn''t¡­ my mother will blame me."


    Emma clasped her hands over her mouth, stifling her sobs. How could anyone imagine that the queen favored her son to the extent of emotionally neglecting her daughter?


    Abuse wasn''t always physical¡ªit could leave deep emotional scars, too. Emma, well aware of the pain Astrid had endured since childhood, felt her heart ache even more at the princess''s quiet confession.


    Astrid, leaving Emma to her tears, knelt beside her bed and clasped her hands together. Memories of her brother surfaced¡ªhis mocking laughter, the way he hoarded their mother''s love as though it were never enough, and the times he had torn up her cherished books, finding amusement in her distress.


    She had learned to endure, for no reaction ever stopped his torment. She had borne it all for her father, the only family member who truly loved her.


    Clad in a white nightgown, her long golden hair cascading down her back, Astrid closed her eyes. Immersed in her thoughts, she began to pray.


    Though she had never been particularly devout or pious, at that moment, she poured her heart into her prayer.


    "Oh divine one, whoever you may be, please¡­ let my brother return unharmed. I ask for nothing else. Just don''t place me in that precarious position." sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    When her prayer ended, Astrid reflected on her own selfishness.


    ''I wasn''t praying for my brother''s recovery¡ªI was praying for my own safety. Perhaps mother is right. Maybe I am selfish.''


    Her mother, who had risen from a count''s daughter to a queen, had always emphasized the importance of Astrid''s beauty and marriage prospects. Astrid, who once loved riding horses and studying, had been forced to become a living doll under her mother''s relentless pressure.


    Whenever Astrid expressed a desire to study alongside her brother, her mother accused her of being selfish and greedy. As she grew older, Astrid tried to understand her mother''s perspective¡ªthe struggles of rising from a mere countess to queen. Randolph, as the crown prince, had solidified her mother''s position, earning all her love and attention.


    Memories of being beaten until her legs bled for daring to play with Randolph''s toys resurfaced. If her mother had reacted so harshly over something so trivial, Astrid shuddered to imagine what would happen if her brother''s misfortune thrust her into the role of heir.


    She had no desire for conflict. None at all.


    ''Please¡­ let nothing happen to my brother,'' she prayed silently.

 Chapter 202 - 202 The Peoples Indifference To Prince Randolphs

    Deep down, Astrid felt the inevitability of her fate creeping closer. As her thoughts spiraled, a familiar face flashed in her mind¡ªa man''s warm smile, gentle and kind.


    "Michael¡­"


    Unable to hold back her emotions any longer, Astrid began to cry softly.


    Charles V had ordered Philip''s battered corpse to be discarded on the plains. Afterward, he summoned Duke Capone for a drink, unable to sleep as thoughts of Randolph, now interred in the fortress''s underground crypt, consumed him. The weight of guilt and regret pressed heavily on his chest.


    Charles V lifted his trembling hand to his glass, pouring yet another drink. He had already emptied several glasses and was now noticeably inebriated. With a faint, bitter laugh, he turned to Duke Capone.


    "It''s been a while since I''ve gotten this drunk, hasn''t it, Vincent?"


    Hearing the king call him by his first name stirred something deep within Duke Capone. How long had it been since anyone called him "Vincent"? The familiarity was a fleeting glimpse of their youth. Suppressing the ache in his chest, Duke Capone managed a smile.


    "It truly has been a long time, Charles."


    The two men shared a moment of raucous laughter, the sound echoing in the quiet chamber. But the laughter soon faded, leaving a heavy silence between them. Charles V fiddled with his empty glass, his demeanor weighed down by sorrow.


    "...Do you think it''s because I failed as a father?" His voice was quiet, yet it carried the weight of deep guilt and regret. Duke Capone hesitated, unsure of how to respond. What could one possibly say to a father who had been forced to order his own child''s death?


    Eventually, Charles V covered his face with his hands and began to sob. Watching him, Duke Capone couldn''t help but think, It wasn''t your failure as a father¡ªit was your failure in choosing a wife.


    It was an unspoken truth that everyone in the palace knew, except Charles himself. The queen''s stark favoritism toward Randolph, to the detriment of Astrid, had been no secret. Perhaps Randolph''s tragic end had been inevitable from the beginning.


    Charles eventually wiped his eyes and reached for his glass again. His face was a tumult of grief and helplessness.


    "This¡­ this was the right decision, wasn''t it? For Astrid''s sake. Don''t you think?" Charles muttered, his tone seeking validation.


    Duke Capone grimaced at the king''s words. "What can I say? I, too, am a man full of sin."


    Looking at the king, who seemed to have aged ten years overnight, Duke Capone made a silent vow. He would ensure that Astrid was matched with a worthy partner. The royal family could not endure another tragedy.


    The following morning, Charles V departed the fortress with hollow eyes, his exhaustion visible to all. As the court bade him farewell, a solemn procession accompanied him. Strapped to his gryphon was the coffin of Crown Prince Randolph.


    Similarly, Henry III departed with the coffin of Princess Elise. The fortress was left in a state of unease, its atmosphere heavy with grief and unanswered questions.


    In a quiet corner of the fortress, two soldiers were brushing dirt off their boots. One broke the silence.


    "The Pamir sorcerers must''ve cursed the Crown Prince. That''s the only explanation."


    His companion scoffed. "What nonsense. If they could curse someone, wouldn''t they have gone after Count Michael instead?"


    The first soldier froze, glancing nervously around to ensure no one else had overheard. Relieved to see they were alone, he hissed, "Hey, don''t say stuff like that. You''re implying Count Michael is better than the Crown Prince!"


    The second soldier shrugged, unconvinced. "Well, the Crown Prince¡­ he talked big but didn''t really accomplish much, did he?"


    At that, the first soldier sighed deeply and shook his head. "That may be true, but if anyone hears you say that, you''ll lose your head. Be careful."


    "All right, all right," the second soldier muttered, begrudgingly dropping the subject.


    Still, his curiosity got the better of him. "If it was a curse, why did Princess Elise get sick too? Doesn''t make sense, does it?"


    The first soldier considered this for a moment before nodding. "You''re right. Maybe it''s a disease. After all, they were close, weren''t they?"


    The two soldiers fell silent, their thoughts heavy with speculation. After a while, one of them sighed.


    "She was so beautiful¡­."


    "Yeah. And she smelled so nice, too¡­."


    The Crown Prince''s death stirred surprisingly little sorrow among the populace. While Charles V and the queen were devastated, the people viewed Randolph''s death with quiet indifference¡ªsome even welcomed it. Many believed that had Charles passed, Randolph''s arrogance would have led the kingdom to ruin.


    In contrast, Princess Astrid was widely beloved for her kind and gentle nature. Her popularity among the people sparked hope for the future, with whispers of relief that she would inherit the throne.


    In his private quarters, Michael sat alone, reflecting on his actions. He meticulously reviewed every step he had taken, searching for any mistakes. Finding none, a satisfied smile crossed his lips. He could feel a new ambition stirring within him¡ªone he hadn''t previously acknowledged.


    Snapping out of his thoughts, Michael called for Ispher.


    "Ispher, what''s the current status of the Pamir Imperial Army?" Sear?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Emerging silently from the shadows, Ispher knelt before Michael and reported, "The imperial forces are on the brink of collapse. Rumors are spreading that the five great clans have been hoarding supplies for themselves, leaving the rest to suffer. Internal conflicts have intensified."


    A smile crept across Michael''s face. "Spreading those rumors was the right move. So, the clans are abandoning the army?"


    Ispher nodded. "Yes. Several, including the Yuran clan, have already left. The rumors have only hastened the desertion. Many are fleeing under the cover of night."


    It was going exactly as planned. Michael leaned back, his smile widening.


    "Good. That means we''re almost there. We''ll wait a little longer and strike at the decisive moment for an easy victory."


    With a final bow, Ispher disappeared into the shadows. Left alone in the tent, Michael''s thoughts drifted to Princess Astrid.


    For some reason, he couldn''t stop thinking about her tonight.

 Chapter 203 - 203 Time For Battle has arrived

    The temporary encampment of the Pamir Empire was eerily quiet, broken only by the labored breaths of the starving soldiers. Nestled in the middle of the barren plains, the tents that made up the camp were a pitiful sight¡ªhardly befitting a place where the Empire''s Crown Prince Oswald and the five tribal chieftains gathered.


    Inside the largest tent, Oswald and the chieftains sat around a makeshift table, their faces gaunt and haggard from over a week of starvation. The Crown Prince himself, once the embodiment of imperial grandeur, now looked like a shadow of his former self. His once-pristine ceremonial uniform was soiled with dirt, and the medals on his chest, once symbols of glory, now seemed to mock his misery. His pale, trembling hands rested on the table, betraying his exhaustion and despair.


    Oswald''s gaze shifted to the tribal leaders surrounding him. These men, once proud representatives of their clans, sat in sullen silence, their eyes hollow with defeat. The air inside the tent was damp and suffocating, carrying the faint, acrid stench of rotting horse bones¡ªthe remnants of the steeds they had been forced to slaughter for sustenance.


    Yandor, the chieftain of the Stone Bear tribe, finally broke the silence. His voice was weary, his words laden with despair.


    "It''s been nearly a week since the supplies were destroyed."


    The leaders nodded grimly. The Stone Bear warriors, known for their massive builds, struggled the most with hunger. But no tribe was spared from the ravages of starvation. Once-mighty soldiers had grown weak, their ferocity dulled by exhaustion.


    Kanta, the Lion Paw chieftain, let out a bitter laugh.


    "They''re trying to starve us to death."


    His voice was a mixture of anger and resignation. "How much longer must we endure this?"


    The soldiers, too afraid to sleep deeply, remained on constant alert, scanning the plains for signs of the enemy. Days were spent patrolling, while nights were haunted by the looming threat of a surprise attack. The soldiers'' eyes, once sharp with determination, now reflected only despair.


    Worse still, the hunger had driven some to butcher their horses. The first soldiers caught slaughtering the animals had been publicly executed, their deaths intended as a deterrent. But hunger proved a far stronger force than fear. The horses'' numbers dwindled as soldiers secretly continued to kill and consume them, and the commanders eventually gave up trying to enforce the ban. The once-proud whinnies of the horses had been replaced by a deathly silence.


    Kisha, the chieftain of the Red Serpent tribe, hissed with rage. His snake-like eyes gleamed with malice.


    "The cowards from the allied tribes have all fled."


    He was referring to the auxiliary tribes that had been stationed on the outskirts of the camp. By the time the chaos had been contained, more than half of them had deserted. The rest vanished within days, leaving the camp even more vulnerable.


    "They were just leeches, consuming our supplies," spat Petan, the Boar Hog chieftain, his voice dripping with disdain. "Good riddance."


    Petan sneered, his words cutting through the tense atmosphere. He believed the auxiliary tribes had been a liability from the start¡ªdead weight that only drained resources without contributing anything of value.


    But Oswald saw things differently. Even weak allies were still soldiers, and their absence was a blow to their numbers. After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice heavy with resignation.


    "There is no way out of this."


    The tent fell deathly silent. The chieftains exchanged uneasy glances, waiting for him to continue. After a pause, Oswald spoke again, his tone even more somber.


    "We must plan for our survival. We will flee to the nearest stronghold."


    The words hung in the air like a death knell. The chieftains were visibly shaken, though none of them seemed surprised.


    "And how do you plan to transport all these soldiers?" Falcon, one of the chieftains, finally asked, his voice cautious. "We barely have enough supplies for ourselves. The enemy will harry us every step of the way."


    Oswald''s reply was as cold as the air inside the tent.


    "We won''t take them. We''ll leave the soldiers and the grounded beasts behind. Only we and a select few will escape." sea??h th§× N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    A shocked murmur rippled through the tent. His words were brutal, but no one dared to voice outright opposition. Deep down, they had all considered the same option. It was cruel, but survival demanded ruthlessness.


    Kanta, the Lion Paw chieftain, broke the silence. His voice was resolute, though his eyes betrayed the shadow of despair.


    "I support this plan. Soldiers can be replaced. We cannot."


    The chieftains fell into a heavy silence, the weight of their collective guilt and desperation pressing down on them.


    In the suffocating quiet, the flickering light of the campfire seemed to mirror the dimming hope in their hearts.


    Kanta''s statement echoed in the tent, drawing every eye toward him. His words carried an undeniable selfishness, but none could refute him. Everyone knew his words were grounded in truth. Kanta had merely voiced what they all were thinking¡ªonly the leaders, those who represented their tribes, were worth saving.


    The tent fell into another heavy silence. The dire state of the camp had forced even the strongest to consider unthinkable choices. With soldiers starving and morale in ruins, the idea of escaping with the entire army was nothing but a delusion. The grim faces of the chieftains reflected their shared understanding: survival required sacrifice. They were prepared to abandon the majority of their soldiers if it meant securing their own lives. For them, survival wasn''t just personal¡ªit was the survival of their tribes and the continuation of the war itself.


    They exchanged subtle glances, their expressions betraying that they had already reached a consensus.


    From the back Miaomiao, Michael watched the Pamir Empire''s temporary camp with a tense expression. His Special Operations Unit surrounded him in a tight formation, their sharp gazes scanning the horizon, ready to act at a moment''s notice. In the skies above, Marcus and the gargoyles hovered like storm clouds, their every wingbeat charged with anticipation. A week had passed, and now the time for resolution had arrived.

 Chapter 204 - 204 Captives

    The silence was broken by the sound of flapping wings cutting through the air. From the distant edge of the camp, flying beasts began taking to the skies. It was Crown Prince Oswald, the five chieftains, and their chosen few attempting to escape.


    Wings tore through the clouds as the escapees soared upward, but their retreat was far from smooth. From the cover of the clouds, Marcus, Miaomiao, and the gargoyles descended with ferocious speed, their sudden appearance a harbinger of battle.


    Oswald''s face darkened with despair as he watched their carefully laid escape plan crumble. "So, this was their plan all along," he muttered bitterly. "They lured us into this trap with their silence."


    The failure of their escape was more than a personal loss¡ªit would crush the already fragile morale of the soldiers left behind. Betrayed and abandoned by their leaders, the remaining troops would undoubtedly surrender without resistance. The thought made Oswald''s already dim eyes lose their light entirely.


    Marcus took a deep breath and unleashed a torrent of fire. The flames roared through the air, engulfing the flying beasts. The sky filled with their tortured cries as the searing heat consumed them, and the wounded beasts spiraled down to the ground in a fiery descent.


    Michael''s voice rang out across the battlefield, sharp and commanding: S~ea??h the ¦ÇovelFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Capture them alive! Each one of them is worth their weight in gold!"


    Buoyed by his words, Michael''s forces attacked with precision. Miaomiao darted through the chaos, its sharp claws tearing through the wings of enemy beasts. Flesh and bone shredded mid-air, and the crippled beasts plummeted toward the earth.


    The gargoyles joined the fray, releasing explosives that detonated against the enemy''s ranks. The night sky lit up with fiery explosions, filling the air with the stench of burning flesh and the anguished cries of dying beasts. Amidst the chaos, pieces of charred bodies and fiery debris rained down upon the battlefield.


    The Pamir forces fought back desperately, their claws and fangs lashing out in all directions. But Michael''s Special Operations Unit evaded each attack with practiced ease, countering with deadly precision. The battle raged on, a maelstrom of fire, steel, and blood.


    Below, the spectacle in the skies stunned the remaining Pamir soldiers. Emerging from their tents, they gazed upward in disbelief, their faces pale with fear.


    "This must be an enemy assault!" one soldier exclaimed, his voice trembling. But another, whose sharp eyes caught the truth, scoffed.


    "Assault? No, look closely. Those are our own leaders, trying to flee!"


    Realization dawned, and another soldier gritted his teeth in rage.


    "So they planned to abandon us all along."


    Disgust and anger filled the camp as the soldiers exchanged bitter remarks.


    "Cowards! They wanted to save their own skins and leave us here to die."


    "That explains why they took the flying beasts. If it were an assault, they''d have hunkered down in their tents."


    The betrayal was unmistakable. As the air battle reached its peak, the soldiers below were consumed by resentment for their leaders. Any lingering loyalty had been shattered.


    Above, the conflict drew to a decisive close. Despite their best efforts, Oswald and the chieftains could not match Michael''s meticulously prepared forces. Their escape was decisively thwarted, leaving them no choice but to surrender.


    Oswald, his face pale as a ghost, finally descended to the ground. The Crown Prince now stood face-to-face with Michael, his crimson eyes gleaming with the same cold resolve that had orchestrated this victory.


    ''So, this is the infamous Michael,'' Oswald thought bitterly, meeting his captor''s gaze.


    Michael''s sword hovered near Oswald''s neck as he spoke.


    "Surrender?"


    Oswald lowered his head, his voice tinged with bitter pride.


    "Show me some respect. I am the Crown Prince of the Empire."


    Michael''s lips curved into a wry smile.


    "You''re my prisoner now. Seize them all!"


    At his command, the Special Operations Unit swiftly subdued Oswald and the chieftains. Enthusiasm electrified the ranks of Michael''s forces as they restrained their captives.


    Meanwhile, the soldiers in the Pamir camp watched the scene unfold with cold disdain. Not a single one moved to aid their fallen leaders, their eyes filled with contempt for the ones who had tried to abandon them.


    Prince Oswald and the five tribal chiefs, bound humiliatingly with ropes around their entire bodies, trudged across the vast plains. They had been walking for nearly three days, restrained and under constant watch. Though their captors neither starved them nor inflicted physical abuse, the prisoners'' spirits were thoroughly crushed.


    The plains stretched endlessly, the cold, harsh air biting at their skin. Every gust of wind carried dust and sand that scratched their faces. Sweat beaded on foreheads, while feet unused to long marches were raw and blistered. The scorched, charred land bore silent testimony to the scorched-earth campaign waged by the Kingdom of Elonia. Once-fertile fields lay desolate, with only burned haystacks and torn furrows hinting at the land''s former vitality.


    Prince Oswald staggered forward, his breath labored. His feet, numb for some time, were covered in blisters, and his sweat-soaked, worn-out shoes made dull, squelching sounds with every step. The high-quality magical armor he once wore had long been stripped away. Instead, he had been given tattered footwear that was utterly unsuited for traversing the rough plains, allowing stones and gritty soil to work their way between his toes. Yet, the physical discomfort paled in comparison to the reality he was now forced to face.


    Following close behind were the prince''s closest aides and the tribal chiefs, equally bound and rendered powerless. Their once-bright eyes were now hollow, their movements robotic. Among them were warriors renowned for their prowess, now reduced to prisoners, shackled and unable to summon the ancestral powers that had once defined their might. Their numbers reached nearly five hundred.


    Behind them marched the soldiers who had surrendered without raising a single weapon. Trained as the elite of their tribes, their betrayal by their leaders was a greater wound than the humiliation of defeat. For these men, the sting of treachery eclipsed even the shame of their capture. Although most walked silently, some muttered scathing criticisms of their commanders.


    One soldier broke the silence, his voice tinged with bitterness. "I get that things were dire, but couldn''t they have made a decision sooner?"

 Chapter 205 - 205 Unprecedented Victory

    Another soldier walking beside him scoffed. "Exactly. If they had retreated the moment the attack started, we wouldn''t be in this mess."


    Their conversation blended with the rhythmic clatter of hooves and the wind''s whistle around the marching prisoners. Hearing these words, some of the captives flinched, their humiliation compounded by the soldiers'' complaints. S§×ar?h the N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Yeah, holding onto their pride got us into this disaster," another soldier muttered from behind, sparking a chorus of grievances. Exhaustion and despair weighed heavily in their voices.


    "I heard they asked other generals for reinforcements," one man said, repeating a rumor from within the ranks. A few heads nodded in agreement.


    "Right, I heard the same," another soldier chimed in, swatting at flies buzzing around a burn wound. He sneered. "As if anyone could spare resources during a battle. Utter fools."


    A soldier beside him clicked his tongue. "And that''s why we''re prisoners now. If a mere commander had led us this poorly, they''d have been executed already."


    The bitter remark drew laughter, sharp and biting, but it quickly gave way to simmering anger and resignation. "And to think they tried to flee on their own, only to get caught. It''s a disgrace."


    Nearby, Michael, riding his steed Bucephalus, listened silently to the soldiers'' complaints, a faint smile on his lips. Each word of reproach caused Prince Oswald and the tribal chiefs to lower their heads further. Oswald squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the torrent of condemnation, but it was impossible. Reality felt distant, surreal.


    Looking up, he took in the bleak surroundings: scorched earth, charred trees, and dried-up wells, all stark reminders of the enemy''s ruthless strategy to sever their self-sufficiency. Fear clawed at his heart as he gazed over the barren landscape. The soldiers'' accusations, his overwhelming guilt, and the crushing weight of failure pressed heavily on his shoulders.


    "What happens now?" he thought bitterly, the image of his father, the emperor, flashing before his eyes. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. As long as he remained a captive, his father''s efforts to prolong his own life were likely in vain.


    "Would he pay any price to free me?" A self-mocking tear slipped down his cheek. No matter the outcome, the future seemed insurmountable.


    Meanwhile, Duke Capone spent a sleepless night, anxiously awaiting Michael''s return. As the dim light of dawn crept through the windows, he let out a tense breath, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The drawing room was silent except for his occasional sighs. With Charles V having left with Crown Prince Randolph''s corpse, victory was now more crucial than ever. The duke''s hopes rested solely on Michael''s successful return.


    Though normally composed, the duke''s nerves had begun to fray. The whirlwind of recent events weighed heavily on his mind. Days had flown by as he organized the captured supplies and reintegrated the soldiers and commanders stationed at the imperial encampment. Yet, in quieter moments, his fingers drummed restlessly on the desk, betraying his inner turmoil.


    "Why hasn''t he returned yet? Is the enemy resistance stronger than anticipated?"


    Such thoughts flitted through his mind, each one worse than the last. The mere possibility of Michael''s failure sent chills down his spine.


    "Should I have sent more troops?" he wondered, a pang of regret gnawing at him.


    His anxious musings were interrupted by an uproar that shattered the dawn''s stillness. Cheers erupted from all directions, accompanied by the thunder of running footsteps. Soldiers, usually stoic and disciplined, were now jubilantly shouting.


    Duke Capone stood frozen, trying to discern the cause of the commotion, until realization struck him. Michael had returned.


    Bolting upright, the duke''s gaze darted to the window, but it only revealed soldiers running and cheering in the courtyard below.


    "I need to see this for myself," he muttered. He moved toward the door, only to pause and realize he wasn''t wearing his hat.


    "Owen! Bring me my hat!" he called, his voice tinged with urgency.


    The duke, who had called for his servant, suddenly closed his mouth. He remembered that Owen had gone to fetch breakfast from the dining hall. The image of Owen''s resolute back as he left the room, determined not to let the duke continue his fast, remained vivid in his mind.


    With a restless glance around the room, the duke searched for his hat. He had not stepped outside without it since coming of age, and the thought of doing so now filled him with unease. Unconsciously, his grip tightened on the object in his hand. Then, he froze, a realization dawning upon him.


    "What am I doing?" he muttered, looking down at his hand. With a sharp slap to his forehead, he groaned, "What a fool I am."


    The hat he had been frantically searching for was already in his hand. Hastily placing it on his head, he strode toward the door with determined steps. His heart raced, and his unsteady legs reminded him of the days he had spent without proper food or rest.


    Pausing to steady his breathing, the door to his room creaked open, and his loyal aide and bodyguard stepped inside. The usually stoic man wore a rare, radiant smile.


    "Your Grace! Count Michael is returning with the imperial crown prince and the five tribal chiefs as prisoners! Not a single one escaped!"


    The news of this unprecedented victory made Duke Capone leap from his spot. His face, perpetually furrowed since Crown Prince Randolph''s death, now lit up with joy. While he had suspected from the cheers outside that they had won, he had never imagined such an extraordinary triumph.


    "Wh-what did you say? Is that true?" he stammered.


    The aide quickly moved to support the duke''s arm, mindful of his weakened state. After a brief hesitation, the duke accepted his aide''s concern and carefully began walking. Together, they made their way toward the watchtower.


    Each step up the staircase felt heavy, but the weight pressing on his heart grew lighter with every moment. The long-awaited victory breathed life back into the duke''s weary soul. Finally reaching the top, Duke Capone found the tower bustling with soldiers, their faces alight with excitement. They cheered and laughed, their voices echoing through the walls.

 Chapter 206 - 206 Duke Capone’s Proposition.

    As the duke appeared, the soldiers made way for him, guiding him to the best vantage point overlooking the plains. Slowly, he raised his gaze and saw Count Michael and the special task force leading the captives back. The rising sun cast a golden glow behind Michael, giving him the appearance of a figure wreathed in light.


    Overwhelmed by the sight, the duke gripped the tower wall with trembling hands, as though afraid he might collapse under the weight of his emotions. Tears of joy streamed down his weathered face.


    "Oh¡­ my word¡­ To see such a sight in my lifetime," he whispered.


    Beside him, his aide clenched his fists, unable to contain his own feelings. He could hardly believe he had played a role in this monumental victory. The triumph filled him with pride, eclipsing all the battles he had fought under the duke''s command.


    The soldiers surrounding them felt the same. Many had abandoned their posts to crowd onto the tower, but no one scolded them. Even the officers who might have issued reprimands had joined the throng, enraptured by the scene before them. After all, their supreme commander had captured every enemy leader¡ªan achievement worth any breach of protocol.


    The soldiers shouted incoherently, celebrating the victory before them. Their cheers grew louder as Michael approached the fortress. To their eyes, he shone like a beacon of glory.


    Later, Michael sat across from Duke Capone in the drawing room. Outside, the special task force and the beast handlers who had accompanied him basked in the praise showered upon them. Wiping away tears, the duke grasped Michael''s hand firmly.


    "Thank you. Truly, thank you. Because of you, I feel as though some of my terrible sins have been absolved," the duke said earnestly.


    Michael smiled, his tone soothing. "Please don''t trouble yourself too much, Your Grace. His Majesty will surely understand your circumstances."


    The duke nodded quietly, his tearful gaze softening. "His Majesty has always been rational and considerate. My concern isn''t with him."


    Michael''s expression hardened, sensing the implication. The duke sighed deeply, as if weighing his words.


    "The queen¡­ she is not a kind person," he began, his voice heavy. "And I don''t say that out of some outdated belief that women shouldn''t involve themselves in politics."


    He stared into the distance, his expression somber. "His Majesty fell for her at first sight and defends her actions no matter what. Perhaps it''s love, or perhaps it''s his way of justifying his own choices."


    Michael nodded silently. Emperor Charles V had defied all opposition to marry the queen. As human as anyone else, the emperor had his own vulnerabilities.


    "Now that the enemy leaders are captured, this war will soon end. And you, Count Michael, will undoubtedly be rewarded as the greatest hero of this campaign."


    The duke''s grip on Michael''s hand tightened suddenly, startling him. The young count looked up, his expression questioning.


    "Count Michael," the duke said, his gaze earnest, "will you take my words to heart?"


    Michael hesitated, then gave a resolute nod. "I will."


    The duke smiled, his tension easing as he patted Michael''s shoulder. "Tell me honestly. Do you think His Majesty and I were too cruel?"


    Michael shook his head firmly. "I do not. A soldier risks their life on the battlefield, a farmer stakes everything on their harvest, and royalty gambles their very lives on their decisions."


    The duke was silent for a moment, marveling at the young count''s wisdom. For one so young, Michael seemed to grasp the essence of power.


    "Indeed. The crown prince made one poor choice after another, and he paid the price for it. Were you ever dissatisfied with him?"


    Michael shook his head again. "His decisions have never affected me."


    It was a bold statement, but Michael''s unwavering eyes reflected nothing but truth. The duke sighed once more, contemplating the crown prince''s inadequacies compared to Michael''s brilliance.


    Finally, the duke broached the topic he had been circling. "What are your thoughts on Princess Astrid?"


    Michael remained composed despite Duke Capone''s sudden proposition. He had already anticipated this conversation to some extent. His gaze drifted to a law book from the Kingdom of Rania resting on the table. The book lay open, with a bookmark tucked into what appeared to be the section on inheritance laws.


    After briefly studying the book, Michael lifted his head and locked eyes with Duke Capone. The duke''s gray eyes, filled with nervous anticipation, met Michael''s vivid red ones. Despite decades of unwavering resolve as a seasoned politician in the Kingdom of Rania''s inner circles, Duke Capone found himself momentarily unsettled under Michael''s penetrating gaze. His eyes wavered, betraying his unease, and he eventually looked down.


    After a long pause, Michael broke the silence. "The princess is an admirable person. I believe she would make an excellent queen."


    Duke Capone''s eyes widened at the succinct reply. Fiddling with the buttons on his sleeve, he pressed on urgently. "That''s not what I meant. I''m asking what you think of her as a potential partner."


    Now that the duke had come to the crux of the matter, Michael raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Does this mean you''ve already discussed this with His Majesty?"


    The duke cleared his throat awkwardly, avoiding Michael''s gaze. The truth was that he had yet to broach the topic with Emperor Charles V. In fact, he hadn''t even hinted at the idea.


    "Not yet," Capone admitted. "I thought it best to gauge your thoughts first before bringing it up."


    Michael chuckled softly, his demeanor calm. Since the proposal had not come directly from the emperor, there was no need to rush into any commitments. Overeagerness could only work against him.


    Of course, Michael found Princess Astrid immensely appealing. However, there was no advantage in showing undue haste. He replied smoothly, "In that case, there''s nothing more to discuss. Speculating about my feelings when there''s no formal proposal seems pointless." sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Duke Capone''s expression grew more desperate, and he leaned forward, almost pleading. "No, Count Michael, please! At least tell me whether you''re interested or not. I need to know your stance before I can raise the matter with His Majesty."

 Chapter 207 - 207 The Queen Nephew

    Michael shook his head, maintaining his silence. The more he held back, the more agitated the duke became. Finally, the duke clenched his teeth and began to divulge his reasons for pushing this match.


    "The queen is an ambitious woman," Capone began gravely. "There are several young ladies residing in the royal palace, all of whom are her nieces."


    Michael''s eyes widened slightly. This was an unexpected revelation. The duke continued, confirming Michael''s suspicions.


    "It''s no secret that she has long sought to marry one of her nieces to the crown prince."


    The duke paused to sigh, the frustration evident in his voice. Though the queen had framed her actions as a way to broaden her nieces'' horizons, it was nothing more than a thinly veiled attempt to secure power. Fortunately, the queen''s nieces, stiff and unremarkable in demeanor, had failed to capture the crown prince''s interest.


    "The queen has only one nephew," Capone continued. "Now that things have reached this point, she will likely try to marry the princess to him instead. Unlike the crown prince''s situation, His Majesty might approve of such a match." Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Feigning indifference, Michael replied, "If they are mutually inclined, wouldn''t that be a good thing? Her Majesty surely wants her daughter to be happy."


    The deepening furrows on the duke''s face told a different story. Shaking his head, he let out a heavy sigh. "That''s not the case. The queen has little interest in the princess. Her Majesty raised her under the strict belief that she should never overshadow the crown prince."


    The duke''s gaze grew distant, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. If only he had paid more attention earlier, he thought. But it was too late for regrets now.


    "If the princess marries the queen''s nephew, she will be pressured to produce an heir immediately. Should a son be born, there''s a strong possibility he would be positioned as the successor."


    Michael''s expression hardened. Though he said nothing, the thought of Princess Astrid bearing another man''s child unsettled him deeply.


    "What sort of person is this nephew of hers?" Michael asked, striving to keep his discomfort hidden.


    The duke sighed again before answering. "That''s the problem. Should their child be made the heir, the nephew would likely ascend to the position of duke. But he is utterly unfit for such a role."


    While the queen adored her nephew and treated him like a precious treasure, public opinion was far less favorable. He was notorious for his frivolous ways, indulging in debauchery and showing no interest in scholarly or political pursuits. The idea of such a man becoming the father of the kingdom''s future ruler and holding a duchy was intolerable to the duke.


    Raising his eyes to Michael, Capone studied the young count. The duke couldn''t think of anyone better suited than Michael. He possessed not only striking looks and exceptional abilities but also the reputation of a war hero, making him an ideal figure to unify public sentiment.


    "Think carefully, Count Michael," the duke urged, his tone earnest. "The princess needs a strong consort. While His Majesty''s reign is stable now, once she ascends the throne, the accomplishments of his rule may be undone."


    Though his voice was filled with urgency, Michael remained silent, his thoughts turning inward. Seeing this, Capone pressed on.


    "The monarchy would weaken, and the nobility would grow increasingly fragmented. The queen''s family belongs to the aristocratic faction. Think about how territorial conflicts have decreased since His Majesty took the throne."


    Capone''s voice trembled as he clung to Michael''s sleeve. "I can''t bear to see this kingdom fall into discord. To prevent that, I need your strength."


    Michael listened quietly, discerning the blend of practicality and principle behind the duke''s words. Should the marriage come to pass, Michael would secure an undeniable place in the royal family, while the princess would gain a steadfast supporter to stabilize her rule.


    Here''s the translated and restructured passage, rendered in high-quality English and shifted to the third-person narrative:


    But that alone wasn''t enough.


    Michael''s silence thickened the air in the room. Observing him deep in thought, Duke Capone attempted to lighten the mood with a jest.


    "Above all, doesn''t the princess possess an undeniable charm? She is, after all, incredibly beautiful."


    For a fleeting moment, the image of Princess Astrid''s gentle smile crossed Michael''s mind. It would be a lie to claim he was indifferent to her. Yet, there were certain matters that needed to be settled before any formal discussion of marriage could proceed.


    Michael studied Duke Capone''s face. Having shared numerous experiences together, he had come to understand the duke''s character to some degree. In the duke''s eyes, Michael saw genuine conviction and an unspoken tension, a plea for his response. Recognizing the sincerity devoid of ulterior motives, Michael finally spoke in a low, measured tone.


    "I have no woman to whom I''m pledged, nor am I bound by any familial engagement."


    Though indirect, it was as good as a partial agreement. Relief flooded Duke Capone''s face as he clasped Michael''s hands with a grateful expression.


    "Thank you. Once we return to the palace, I will do everything in my power to persuade His Majesty."


    Michael nodded slightly and added in a calm voice, "For now, I will focus on the war. I trust you to handle the political matters, Your Grace."


    Duke Capone''s determination to involve Michael wasn''t solely driven by personal preference; it was a political necessity. The death of Crown Prince Randolph had created a power vacuum, and while both Capone and Michael bore some indirect responsibility for the events leading to it, the queen''s emotions were unpredictable. Having lost her only son, she was likely consumed with grief and hatred. From everything the duke had observed and heard, the queen was not a woman to be underestimated.


    To establish a new power center around Princess Astrid, it was imperative to have Michael on their side. After reaching a tacit agreement, Michael left the drawing room. His next step was to inform his father of this development and to begin pursuing plans he had long held close to his heart.

 Chapter 208 - 208 Plans To Reclaim The Lost Territories

    Dominic, the former Viscount of Crassus, was taken aback when Michael informed him of the sudden marriage proposal. His reaction was closer to worry than joy. Watching his son nonchalantly discuss a potential union with the princess, as though he were choosing a dinner menu, left him dumbfounded. sea??h th§× ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Are you planning to get involved with the capital''s politics? That place is dangerous," Dominic said, locking eyes with Michael.


    Michael replied in a steady, firm voice, "I''m not seeking involvement, Father. I simply cannot extricate myself. In that case, wouldn''t it be better to take an active role?"


    Dominic fell silent, reflecting on his son''s words. It was true¡ªMichael, the hero who had captured the imperial crown prince and the five tribal leaders, was destined to draw both admiration and envy. Light always casts a shadow.


    "Do you realize what it means to marry the princess? Even if you have children, they will not bear your name," Dominic said with a sigh, his gaze fixed on Michael''s face. His expression carried both unease and resolve, a determination not to let their family lineage end.


    Michael smirked slightly. "Even if I marry the princess, I won''t remain merely the queen''s consort. You needn''t worry about that."


    Dominic''s eyes wavered as he felt the sheer force of Michael''s resolve, a palpable energy filling the room.


    "Are you aiming for joint rule?" Dominic asked cautiously. Yet, before he could continue, something dawned on him. Michael, still smiling, leaned back in his chair with a relaxed demeanor that carried a clear implication.


    Dominic''s breath caught in his throat as realization struck. "You don''t mean¡­"


    Michael nodded subtly, his smile deepening. "Yes. It''s time to reclaim forgotten glory."


    Dominic shot to his feet, pacing the room in agitation. His face was a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and hope. When he finally spoke, his voice trembled.


    "Are you planning to reclaim the lost territories?"


    Michael, still composed, rose from his chair and straightened his posture, his crimson eyes gleaming with determination.


    "The lands where our ancestors once ruled now lie between the Pamir Empire and our domain. During the prisoner exchange negotiations, I intend to demand that territory. It will belong solely to our family."


    Dominic froze, his expression a blend of shock and awe. His mind raced through the implications of Michael''s plan.


    "That would change everything. If you recover the old lands and prove your lineage, you could assert a claim to co-rule with the princess," Dominic murmured, his heart pounding.


    If Michael succeeded, his marriage to Princess Astrid would symbolize not just an alliance but the revival of a fallen dynasty. It would reshape the balance of power on the continent of Rubel.


    Dominic turned to his son, his gaze filled with reverence. This vision, this grand ambition, was beyond anything he had imagined. With Rania Kingdom''s strength supporting Michael''s bloodline, the entire continent could witness a new political order.


    Gripping the edge of the desk to steady himself, Dominic took a deep breath, struggling to contain his emotions. Finally, he looked up and grasped Michael''s hand. His palms were damp with sweat, and his face was etched with a mix of exhilaration and awe.


    "If we unite the lands of Rania and the old Kingdom¡­"


    The mere thought made his heart race so fiercely that its pounding seemed to fill the silent room.


    "You mean¡­" Dominic''s voice was barely audible, filled with certainty and reverence. "You''re dreaming of an empire?"


    The word "empire" held the weight of the grandest dream a descendant of a fallen kingdom could aspire to.


    Michael placed a steadying hand on his father''s shoulder, his voice calm but firm. "For now, this must remain a secret. To secure favorable terms in negotiations with the Pamir Empire, our lineage must not yet come to light."


    Dominic nodded, his expression a mixture of pride and resolve.


    Michael helped his father back into his chair, his own mind already turning to the many tasks ahead. There was much to prepare, but the dream was no longer distant¡ªit was within reach.


    The underground prison of the Orlando Fortress was shrouded in suffocating darkness. Crown Prince Oswald of the Pamir Empire sat within the cold, oppressive confines of his cell, despair etched across his face. He had been separated from the tribal chiefs of the Five Great Clans and imprisoned in isolation.


    The prison, though dim, was surprisingly clean. Straw lined the floor, and a low, makeshift cot had been provided in one corner. While it was barely large enough to lie on, the mere presence of a bed indicated that Oswald was being treated with some semblance of respect befitting an imperial prince.


    Still, a prison was a prison. Its stifling silence pressed on Oswald''s psyche, and the grating sound of chains dragging against the floor heightened his unease. Pale and gaunt, Oswald sat on the cot, his eyes long accustomed to the darkness, though his body struggled to adjust. The sharp chill in the air clung to his skin, exacerbated by the dampness that seemed to emanate from the stone walls. Despite summer''s approach, the air inside the prison was icy, each exhalation escaping as a faint puff of mist.


    The oppressive stillness amplified his sense of isolation, and he found himself staring at his shackled hands. Once, these hands had issued royal edicts as the heir to an empire. Now, they were bound in cold iron, no different from a caged animal. A tempest of rage and sorrow swirled within him, but no matter how he tried, he couldn''t shake the weight of defeat.


    He had fought to alter his fate, risking everything, only to find himself ensnared in Michael''s grasp. In his attempts to escape his father''s clutches, he had become subject to a different, equally inescapable power.


    His gaze drifted to the iron bars separating him from the world, and his father''s face rose unbidden in his mind. The emperor¡ªcold and ruthless¡ªhad systematically eliminated Oswald''s elder brothers, absorbing their lifeblood to prolong his own. Oswald didn''t need to speculate about his future. Once the prisoner exchange negotiations concluded, his fate would follow the same trajectory. His father would use his failure in war as justification to claim him.

 Chapter 209 - 209 Something That Could Shift The Entire Course Of War

    Oswald let out a bitter laugh, his breath heavy with resignation. He had once dreamed of gathering strength through war to overthrow his father, the emperor. Instead, he now sat in chains, his ambitions thwarted.


    Lifting his gaze, Oswald''s eyes landed on the cell opposite his. There, his loyal subordinate and mage, Carlton, lay groaning in pain. Even in the shadows, the mage''s pale face and deep wounds were starkly visible. The claw marks left by the sphinx guarding the prison were severe. To stem the bleeding, Carlton had resorted to cauterizing the injuries with flame magic, but the wounds had deteriorated further. His labored, uneven breaths and twisted expression betrayed his agony.


    "Carlton¡­" Oswald murmured, his voice heavy with anguish. The sight of his loyal retainer suffering on his behalf stabbed at his heart like a dagger. Carlton could have escaped and lived freely, but his loyalty had brought him to this wretched state. Watching the mage languish helplessly filled Oswald with guilt and despair, but he refused to let those emotions paralyze him.


    ''This cannot go on,'' he thought desperately. He had to act¡ªfor Carlton''s sake, if nothing else.


    Clenching his fists, Oswald wrestled with his inner turmoil. The situation had left him with only one option. If the prisoner exchange proceeded as planned, he would be delivered back to his father, only to have his life drained. The empire''s citizens, ignorant of the truth, would praise the emperor''s calculated efficiency. The thought was maddening.


    Taking a deep breath, Oswald sat upright on the cot, cradling his knees. He had not slept peacefully for even a single night since learning of the emperor''s horrifying secret¡ªhow his father extended his life by sacrificing his sons. The revelation had left an indelible scar on Oswald''s soul. He had struggled desperately to escape that fate, yet here he was.


    Raising his head, Oswald resolved to fight. It was too early to give up. If he played his cards right, there might yet be a way out. He scanned his cell with renewed determination. The shadows no longer seemed suffocating but instead carried the faint promise of opportunity. If he could escape this place and elude his father''s grasp, survival was within reach. The empire''s stability was a secondary concern; reclaiming his life and seizing the throne mattered more than anything.


    Wiping the cold sweat from his brow, Oswald rose cautiously. The chains on his wrists and ankles clinked heavily, the sound echoing through the prison as he straightened his back and took a deliberate step forward. The cold stone floor magnified the metallic clash of his movements.


    His gaze fixed on the sphinx crouched in the corridor outside the cells. The creature''s massive frame and sharp claws radiated an intimidating aura, its cold, glowing eyes adding to its fearsome presence. Despite the terror gripping his heart, Oswald forced himself to stand tall. He inhaled deeply, summoning every ounce of courage.


    "Sphinx! Hear my words!" His voice rang out, shattering the oppressive silence of the prison.


    The sphinx, which had been staring idly at its forepaws with the wisdom of ages in its eyes, slowly turned its massive head to regard him. The creature''s gaze sent chills down Oswald''s spine, but he did not waver.


    "Relay my message to your master at once!" he demanded, his voice firm.


    The sphinx''s expression remained impassive, its cold eyes betraying a hint of disdain. It seemed almost incredulous at the human''s audacity. For a moment, Oswald''s confidence faltered, but he pushed the unease aside and continued.


    "I am Oswald, Crown Prince of the Pamir Empire. I have something to say to your master. Deliver my message without delay!"


    The sphinx''s sharp gaze turned sharper, and its displeasure was palpable. Interrupted from pondering the shape of a claw-shaped trinket it had planned to request from Michael, it narrowed its eyes at the insolent human.


    [What? Do you dare treat me, a divine beast, as a mere messenger?]


    Realizing his blunder, Oswald''s face stiffened. His mouth opened to offer a hurried explanation, but the clinking of his chains betrayed his growing anxiety.


    "I-I misspoke in a moment of confusion. My apologies," Oswald stammered, his voice trembling with unease. "Please, relay my message. I must speak with Sir Michael." S~ea??h the N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The sphinx, with its luminous green eyes glowing eerily in the darkness, stared at him with unsettling intensity.


    [What is it you wish to say?]


    Swallowing hard, Oswald met the creature''s gaze, realizing it might actually be willing to listen. Wasting no time, he took a cautious step closer and spoke with conviction.


    "It''s a matter of great importance¡ªsomething that could shift the entire course of this war."


    The sphinx regarded him skeptically, its piercing eyes scanning him from head to toe. This was, after all, the imperial crown prince¡ªsomeone of immense value. If he was pleading this earnestly, his claim might hold weight.


    [Very well. But if you''re plotting anything foolish...]


    The sphinx''s claws gleamed menacingly as it extended them slightly. Oswald, fully aware of the devastating power those claws could unleash, nodded quickly.


    "I will pay any price. Just deliver my message, I beg you."


    The sphinx flicked its tail against the ground a few times before tapping its earring and summoning Michael.


    Oswald let out a quiet sigh of relief. If Michael was as cunning and profit-minded as Oswald suspected, this plan had a real chance of succeeding. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, a chill of doubt followed.


    ''Is this truly the right choice?''


    He shook his head firmly. There was no other option. He had no choice but to throw himself onto the wheel of fate.


    Michael, reflecting on the sphinx''s message, made his way to the dark, subterranean prison. Pushing open the heavy iron door, he stepped inside, his gaze landing on Oswald. Even in the pitch-black cell, the shadow of anguish and pain etched into Oswald''s features was unmistakable.


    Facing him, Michael broke the silence with a calm voice. "What is it you wish to say?"

 Chapter 210 - 210 The Secret of Youth

    Oswald clenched his teeth before finally forcing himself to speak. Though he had braced for this, the humiliation of being an imperial crown prince pleading in chains was still unbearable.


    "Before I say anything, I have a condition. Your sphinx injured one of my men. That man, over there in that cell, is my loyal subordinate. I demand he be treated first."


    Michael glanced at the neighboring cell, his sharp eyes catching sight of a mage cloaked in a tattered mantle. As Oswald had said, the mage lay groaning, a deep wound near his waist. Michael''s gaze shifted to the sphinx.


    [He tried to spring this human out of here. I had no choice but to act,] the sphinx explained nonchalantly.


    If the sphinx''s reaction had been excessive, it was still justified under the circumstances. Raising an eyebrow slightly, Michael turned back to Oswald, his tone tinged with a cold amusement.


    "The injuries do seem severe, so I''ll allow treatment for now. But your information better be worth it."


    With that, Michael summoned Hope, the healer he trusted most to keep this matter discreet.


    Oswald''s eyes flickered with surprise. He had expected Michael to demand the information first before granting his request. This unexpected gesture of goodwill stirred something in him, and he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, "Thank you. That man is as much a friend to me as a subordinate."


    Moments later, Hope entered the cell, following the sphinx''s lead, her expression wary but determined. Oswald watched the healer at work, his face taut with tension. Despite his nerves, it was clear that Hope was skilled. The pallor on Carlton''s face gradually eased, and his breathing steadied.


    After ensuring Carlton would continue receiving treatment in his chambers, Michael turned his full attention to Oswald. The two were left alone in the dimly lit cell, an atmosphere of heavy anticipation hanging between them.


    Oswald hesitated, knowing the weight of what he was about to reveal. This information could upend the balance of power in the empire. Yet he had already made his choice¡ªhis life over the empire''s glory. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Clenching his fists, he let out a bitter chuckle before finally breaking the silence.


    "My father, the emperor... Do you know how old he is this year?"


    Michael nodded. "Well over a hundred, as I understand it. Likely past one hundred twenty, though he shows no signs of aging. It''s... unusual."


    Oswald took a deep breath, his expression growing darker. "That''s common knowledge. But what few know is this: My father hasn''t merely avoided the ravages of age. He''s kept his youth entirely intact."


    Michael''s brows furrowed as he leaned slightly forward. "Kept his youth? What exactly do you mean?"


    A dry laugh escaped Oswald as his mind conjured the image of his father''s youthful face, one that seemed younger than his own. "I mean exactly what I said. Though my father is well over 120, his body remains as vigorous and youthful as ever."


    Michael''s mind whirred. Knights and mages often extended their lifespans through extraordinary means, but even those had limits. Whatever secret Oswald was hinting at went far beyond such conventional methods.


    "So, there''s a secret behind this," Michael probed.


    Oswald nodded grimly. Now was the time to divulge the emperor''s closely guarded truth. Slowly, he recounted the chilling memory of what he had witnessed as a child.


    "¡­ After that, I did everything I could to stay out of my father''s sight," Oswald admitted, his voice hollow. "I indulged in reckless behavior, hoping to appear worthless enough for him to ignore. But even that wasn''t enough in the end."


    Michael sat in stunned silence, processing the revelation. The emperor''s secret was beyond anything he had anticipated, and yet... a plan began forming in his mind.


    This new knowledge offered an opportunity¡ªa way to leverage Oswald''s cooperation, secure his ascent to the throne, and reclaim the lost territories of his ancestors. If executed correctly, this strategy could reshape the power dynamics of the empire.


    Michael''s crimson eyes gleamed with calculated resolve as he began to outline the next steps in his mind.


    The allied soldiers from the Celeste Empire and the Kingdom of Elonia stood atop the fortress walls, peering down at the unending waves of imperial forces. The Pamir Empire''s army advanced relentlessly, their elite soldiers pushing massive siege engines forward with heavy, deliberate steps.


    The sunlight gleamed off their enormous shields, reflecting a blinding brilliance. Their march seemed endless, a tide of unyielding strength. The defenders atop the fortress walls watched in silent awe, their breaths caught in their throats.


    "Sound the horn!"


    A commander atop the watchtower bellowed, rallying the soldiers with the deep, resonant note of a war horn that cut through the air. The sound reverberated in their chests, stirring a mix of courage and desperation.


    At this signal, the archers¡ªalready in position¡ªunleashed a volley of arrows. The sky darkened as arrows soared toward the imperial forces. In response, the Pamir soldiers retaliated with their own deadly rain, the projectiles meeting midair in a chaotic dance of war.


    Despite the onslaught, the empire''s elite troops pressed forward, undeterred. Drawing on ancestral power, their bodies transformed¡ªfur sprouted thickly, and their heights doubled, making them appear as towering beasts.


    A rookie soldier, terrified by their monstrous appearance, stumbled back instinctively. "Are they even human?" he muttered, his voice trembling.


    An older soldier standing beside him chuckled, clapping the rookie on the shoulder. "Who knows? They claim it''s the power of the spirits, but they''re just beasts in armor. Don''t let their size scare you. They bleed when stabbed and fall when struck, just like anyone else. Just think of them as bigger targets."


    Reassured by the veteran''s words, the rookie tightened his grip on his sword, determination flickering in his eyes. Now was not the time for fear. If these monsters breached the fortress, the families behind the walls would be in danger. Gritting his teeth, he steadied himself, vowing to fight.


    Throughout the fortress, voices of encouragement rang out amidst the palpable tension.


    At the forefront of the imperial army, heavily armored shield-bearers advanced in unison. Their shields overlapped seamlessly, forming an impenetrable wall that protected the siege engines advancing behind them. The combined tribes of the empire, lacking armor or steel shields, marched unprotected in their wake, a stark contrast to the elite troops.

 Chapter 211 - 211 Scheming the Plan

    "Why isn''t the ballista ready yet?"


    One of Elonia''s commanders muttered anxiously, glancing back over his shoulder. He was waiting for the Celeste Empire''s massive ballista, designed to take down monstrous beasts, to be loaded and prepared. Elonia''s ballistae had long since been destroyed, leaving them dependent on their allies.


    But the Celeste Empire, using various excuses, had delayed deploying the weapon, effectively sacrificing Elonia''s soldiers in the meantime. Without the ballista, there was little hope of destroying the Pamir Empire''s siege engines.


    The commander gritted his teeth, his frustration mounting as he imagined the political maneuvering at play. With no other choice, he turned to his soldiers and shouted, "Prepare the fire arrows!"


    If reinforcements weren''t coming, they had to make do with what they had. At his command, flaming arrows arced through the sky, aimed at the siege engines. Some landed behind the imperial shields, sparking brief flames, but they quickly fizzled out, causing no significant damage. Instead, the arrows burned the unprotected tribal soldiers, whose screams echoed through the battlefield.


    The elite troops, encased in steel armor, marched onward without hesitation, trusting their heavy plating to withstand the fire. sea??h th§× n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Damn it," the Elonia commander muttered under his breath. He had carefully selected the best archers for this defense, yet their efforts were barely enough to slow the enemy''s advance.


    A massive siege tower, reinforced with thick wooden beams and steel plates, loomed closer to the fortress. Its wheels screeched loudly as it gained momentum, the ominous sound drawing the attention of the defenders atop the walls.


    "They''re bringing up the siege tower! Get ready to repel them!"


    The commanders'' voices rang out, rallying the soldiers. "If we fall here, the fortress and our families are finished!"


    One commander raised his sword high, his voice carrying over the din of battle. Arrows continued to rain down on the fortress, and while some soldiers managed to block them with shields, many fell to stray shots.


    Despite the mounting casualties, the remaining soldiers held their ground, their eyes filled with grim determination. "Hold on just a little longer! Victory is within reach!"


    The Pamir Empire''s elite troops were equally relentless. They mercilessly whipped the tribal soldiers ahead of them, forcing new waves of fighters to replace those who fell. The tribesmen, caught between the arrows from the front and the whips from behind, had no choice but to keep advancing.


    "Raise the siege tower!"


    "Work together!"


    In retaliation, the soldiers atop the fortress walls shouted orders, hurling massive stones at the approaching tower. A boulder, too large for even two men to embrace fully, rolled with deafening noise toward the siege tower, crushing the unfortunate tribal soldiers in its path. Yet the tower remained intact, inching ever closer to the wall.


    "They''re coming! Everyone, prepare yourselves!"


    Tension was etched into the faces of the fortress defenders as they braced for the imminent clash. Weapons drawn and shields raised, they awaited the onslaught.


    "End this here! Hold your ground!"


    With a triumphant roar, the imperial siege tower reached the fortress wall. A massive wooden ladder descended, and the Pamir Empire''s elite soldiers began pouring onto the wall.


    "Come! Let''s finish this here and now!"


    The defenders responded with battle cries of their own, brandishing their swords as they charged forward. None of them faltered; all stood their ground.


    "We''re almost there! Kill them all and take the fortress!"


    The combined soldiers of Celeste and Elonia fought valiantly to repel the imperial forces. Yet, with siege towers now pressing against the fortress walls from all sides, the defenders found themselves increasingly overwhelmed.


    The battlefield descended into chaos. Black smoke billowed into the sky, while the roars of monstrous beasts and the cries of dying men echoed in every direction.


    Among the defenders, a soldier wielding a sharp dagger worked frantically to sever the ropes securing the ladders. Others joined him, their sharp eyes searching for vulnerable ropes to cut.


    "We can''t let them gain a foothold!"


    The commanders'' orders weighed heavily on their shoulders as they sliced through each rope with precision. Each severed rope sent enemy soldiers plummeting to the ground below, their screams adding to the cacophony of the battlefield.


    "Target their commander!"


    A soldier aimed his arrow at the distant enemy commander and let it loose. But the arrow missed its mark, falling harmlessly into the enemy ranks.


    "Damn it! Why won''t these arrows hit?" he muttered through clenched teeth. Frustrated, he nocked another arrow and tried to steady his aim, but hitting a commander amidst the densely packed enemy forces was no easy task.


    "Forget it. I''ll never be a hero like Count Michael," he spat, drawing his sword instead. He decided his efforts were better spent cutting down the enemies scaling the walls than futilely aiming at a distant target.


    Others on the wall shared the same sentiment, turning to engage the climbing enemy troops directly.


    "Cut off their fingers! Do whatever it takes to stop them!" one soldier yelled as he slashed at the fingers of an enemy soldier gripping the wall. Screaming in pain, the soldier lost his hold and plummeted below. But more enemies quickly took his place, their heads emerging over the parapet.


    One Elonian soldier, recalling the family he had left behind, drew his sword and thrust it into the throat of an enemy soldier who had just climbed over the edge. The young enemy fell, coughing blood as he tumbled back down the wall. Yet the Elonian soldier moved on without hesitation, facing the next foe with steely resolve.


    "Roll the boulders! Crush them before they reach the top!"


    The command rang out as soldiers heaved massive boulders off the walls.


    "One, two, three!"


    The boulders tumbled down with thunderous force, smashing siege engines and flattening enemy soldiers. In another section of the wall, cauldrons of boiling oil were tipped over, pouring the scalding liquid onto the enemies below.


    "Set it alight!"


    At the commander''s shout, soldiers hurled torches into the spreading oil. Flames roared to life, engulfing the enemy ranks. Panicked cries echoed as soldiers, ablaze, fell to the ground in a desperate attempt to extinguish the fire.

 Chapter 212 - 212 The One Who Revealed the Secret

    "If we can''t put this out, we''re all dead!" an enemy commander bellowed, but the inferno only grew, consuming more of their forces.


    "They''re climbing again!"


    On the walls, defenders scrambled to prepare more oil and fire. Another cauldron was poured over the advancing siege tower, and a fresh wave of fire erupted, engulfing the tower and its attackers.


    Screams, curses, and the stench of burning flesh filled the battlefield. It was a vision of hell itself¡ªa relentless clash between those scaling the walls and those defending them.


    Far from the chaos of the battlefield, Duke Iasus of the Pamir Empire convened with the emperor''s generals inside his command tent. The tumult of war was a distant echo beyond the thick canvas walls.


    Iasus, nephew to the emperor and one of the most powerful figures in the empire, sat at the head of the table, his sharp gaze cutting through the room. His reputation for strength and decisive action preceded him, and his decisions carried the weight to shift the tide of battle.


    Clasping his hands tightly, he bit his lip in thought, his expression betraying a rare moment of uncertainty.


    "Continuing this attack is reckless, Your Grace," one general said cautiously, breaking the silence. His voice was laced with concern. "His Majesty has explicitly ordered us to prioritize the safety of the crown prince."


    Another general nodded in agreement. "It''s not just the prince. The Five Tribal Chiefs are also in captivity. If word of this spreads, the tribes will surely revolt. The consequences could be catastrophic."


    Iasus raised his head slowly, his heavy gaze silencing the room.


    "Do not act rashly," he said firmly. "His Majesty has granted me full authority as the commanding officer in this theater. My decisions take precedence."


    An uneasy silence followed until one general, emboldened by frustration, spoke up.


    "Could it be that you wish for the prince to perish? That would clear the way for you to ascend the throne."


    Iasus''s eyes flashed with anger, and his jaw tightened.


    "Hold your tongue!" he snarled. "How dare you accuse me of such treachery? I have sacrificed everything for the safety of the imperial family."


    The weight of his record was undeniable, and even the accuser faltered, mumbling an apology under his breath.


    Yet, Iasus''s internal struggle was evident. The current momentum could allow them to capture the fortress, but the capture of the prince and the chiefs had complicated matters. He seethed inwardly at their foolishness for getting caught.


    But he had no choice. The emperor''s orders were clear, and his position as the emperor''s closest relative made his every move subject to scrutiny. To avoid further suspicion, he had to call off the attack.


    The sudden sound of drums reverberated across the battlefield, signaling the Pamir forces to withdraw. Confusion rippled through the imperial ranks as soldiers hesitated, then slowly began retreating.


    "Damn it, what''s going on?"


    "Just when we were about to break through!"


    "Shut it. Duke Iasus wouldn''t make such a decision without reason. Trust in his judgment."


    On the fortress walls, the allied forces of Celeste and Elonia stared in stunned disbelief. What had caused the enemy to retreat so abruptly?


    General Elond of the allied forces, observing from a vantage point, allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. News of the imperial crown prince and the Five Tribal Chiefs'' capture had reached the fortress. He had anticipated this outcome.


    "It was wise to hold back the ballistae," he remarked, stroking his thick beard as he exchanged glances with his aide.


    "As always, your foresight is unparalleled, General," the aide replied with a hint of admiration.


    Elond chuckled softly, feigning indifference. "But what about the rumors? Do you think they''re true?"


    The aide''s expression turned serious. "I can''t say for certain, but they''re credible enough to warrant attention."


    Elond nodded thoughtfully, his fingers brushing his white beard. The weight of years hung heavy on him as he mused aloud, "A secret to extend life and restore youth¡­ If Emperor Gorbachev hears of this, he''ll lose his mind."


    Though Elond pretended to be unaffected, the gleam in his eyes betrayed his own burning curiosity. His aide, sensing an opening, ventured cautiously.


    "Perhaps you should involve yourself in this hunt, General. If the secret came from the crown prince, it''s likely true. He wouldn''t have revealed it unless his life depended on it. After all, his brothers all died before the emperor."


    Elond, expecting such encouragement, cleared his throat and replied, "Hmm, perhaps I should. Life extension¡­ rejuvenation¡­"


    He stroked his beard again, feigning a dignified air, but the greed in his eyes burned unmistakably bright.


    "Every elder across the continent will clamor for this secret," he murmured. "Even those who''ve renounced worldly ambitions will come crawling out of their retreats. The emperor won''t escape this storm."


    James, a member of the Imperial Guard of the Celeste Empire, paused momentarily before the grand doors leading to the audience chamber. He needed to steady his breath. Delivering a battlefield report directly to the Emperor was a daunting task, and his fear was overwhelming.


    "I''d rather be out on the battlefield," he thought. sea??h th§× Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    His back was already drenched in sweat. The man he was about to face, Emperor Siegmund, was no ordinary sovereign. To ascend to the pinnacle of power, Siegmund had endured countless intrigues, earning a reputation for cruelty even before his coronation. The Emperor showed no trace of sympathy or regret for his slain siblings. Whispers about Siegmund killing all his brothers to secure the throne were common, but no one dared mention it in his presence. Siegmund himself was the embodiment of fear.


    With trembling hands, James pushed open the doors of the audience chamber. A chill immediately engulfed him, cooling his sweat-soaked back. A mage specializing in ice magic was permanently stationed there to maintain the cold, as the Emperor detested warmth.


    As James walked between the towering marble columns, he couldn''t help but admire them. They seemed to stretch endlessly toward the ceiling, adorned with intricate carvings symbolizing the authority of the Empire and its ruler. These works of art could captivate anyone interested in sculpture, but their beauty did little to ease James''s anxiety.

 Chapter 213 - 213 Plotting To Strike At The Emperor

    He cautiously crossed the chamber, trying his best not to let his footsteps echo. Yet, no matter how careful he was, the sound reverberated through the vast space, making him wince. After what felt like an eternity, the base of the throne came into view. A dazzling chandelier overhead reflected light onto the gemstones embedded in the throne, making them sparkle brilliantly.


    The Emperor, Siegmund, lounged on the throne in a seemingly relaxed posture. Though his demeanor appeared idle, an air of menace surrounded him. The throne itself was a testament to his taste¡ªlavishly adorned with gold and jewels, designed by Siegmund himself to be unparalleled in magnificence.


    Siegmund swirled the wine in his goblet lazily, his eyes scanning the trembling guard before him. "Tch, they''re all the same," he mused, observing James''s fearful demeanor, reminiscent of a frightened dog. Irritated, Siegmund hurled the goblet, its contents splattering. The guard''s startled reaction amused him, though his face betrayed no emotion.


    From the Emperor''s perspective, the world seen from his throne was devoid of color¡ªeverything appeared insignificant. "What a tiresome existence," he thought.


    James, staring at the wine stains on his trousers, dropped to his knees in a frantic bow. How could he dare meet the Emperor''s gaze? Such an act demanded death as penance. As James struggled to decide how to apologize, Siegmund''s voice cut through his panic.


    "What is it?"


    Relieved that his hesitation hadn''t cost him his life, James quickly began his report, eager to finish and leave the chamber as swiftly as possible. Sensing James''s desperation, Siegmund smirked mischievously. "Shall I kill him?" he wondered, then dismissed the idea¡ªit was too much trouble. Killing this one would mean recruiting another guard. Half-listening to the report, Siegmund''s gaze wandered.


    The newly refurbished audience chamber, reconstructed to erase traces of his ancestors, was breathtakingly grand. Towering marble columns bore intricate carvings, and gilded walls displayed murals chronicling centuries of the Empire''s glory. Each mural depicted figures resembling Siegmund, their jewel-encrusted accents glittering under sunlight streaming through the windows. These murals, a display of both beauty and vanity, only deepened the chamber''s oppressive atmosphere.


    Lately, Siegmund''s pastime was dismissing his retainers, drinking alone in the chamber, and mocking the legacy of his predecessors. "If only I could place my second brother''s mummified head right here in the center," he thought with a cruel smile¡ªa smile so beautiful yet so terrifying that James involuntarily shuddered again.


    From the palace gardens, the vibrant green leaves shimmered under the sunlight, and the distant chirping of birds exuded tranquility. Yet, amidst such peace, the Emperor was a storm of violence and cruelty. As Siegmund contemplated methods to eliminate his brother who had fled to Guanghuiseong, his attention returned to the ongoing report. This report intrigued him¡ªit was about someone who had caught his interest.


    Siegmund had heard of Michael''s exploits and found them fascinating. Michael''s sheer strength was one thing, but his clever stratagems were unparalleled. His latest scheme was particularly ingenious: bribing the captured crown prince to uncover secrets, assembling a group of reclusive master swordsmen, and plotting to strike at the Emperor. It was a masterstroke of cunning, akin to achieving a goal without lifting a finger.


    Siegmund''s eyes glimmered with curiosity. "Who is this Michael?" he wondered. "I''d like to meet him." Turning to James, who awaited further orders, Siegmund spoke.


    "Spread the word to all Masters and knights ranked Grade 5 and above in the Empire. I''m eager to see their expressions when they respond."


    James hurriedly complied, bowing briefly before leaving the chamber. Spending too much time around the capricious Emperor was a risk he dared not take.


    Alone once more, Siegmund rested his chin on his hand and murmured, "Michael... Michael. What sort of man are you? I''m dying to find out."


    On the peaks of the Drago Mountains, a white-haired mage and a knight had teamed up to subdue a Grade 3 beast, a Behemoth. The knight, his muscular frame belying his advanced years, shouted boisterously.


    "Now, surrender! If you become my beast, I''ll treat you well!"


    The Behemoth, a creature of intelligence as well as power, let out a roar filled with both fear and rage. It wanted nothing more than to crush the human who had disturbed its rest and demanded its servitude. Yet, the beast knew it was outmatched. The knight''s skills were formidable, but the mage protecting him and striking from a distance was the greater threat.


    Finally, the Behemoth collapsed with a despairing cry.


    [...Keep your word, human.]


    The old knight grinned as he stroked the Behemoth''s mane.


    "Of course, of course! I swear on my honor as a Grade 3 knight, you''ll be treated well. Isn''t that right, Faust?"


    The mage, his white hair contrasting with his stern expression, cast a displeased glance at his longtime companion.


    Faust found himself glaring at his old friend Aaron, now filled with regret. Dragging him out to tame a high-grade beast, as if possessed by some whimsical desire, was frustrating beyond words.


    "Do as you please. But what''s gotten into you? You never even glanced at magical beasts before, and now you want one so badly? You''re acting like a mad old man."


    Despite the scolding, Aaron grinned sheepishly, scratching his head as if embarrassed. "Well, I heard about a strange young lad who goes around with not one but two Grade-1 beasts. They say he commands a sphinx and a dragon at will. When I heard that, I couldn''t help myself¡ªmy blood started boiling." S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Faust scoffed, unimpressed. "And for that, you woke me from my meditations after all these years? Hah! If you were so envious, you should''ve gone after a Grade-1 beast yourself."


    Aaron quickly averted his eyes. The thought of capturing a Grade-1 beast was too daunting. Unlike other beasts, Grade-1s were highly cohesive within their species, making them nearly impossible to capture. Even if they were alone, success would still be uncertain.


    Despite their bickering, the two had been friends for decades. Faust, eventually relenting, helped Aaron finalize his contract with the Behemoth. Watching Aaron treat the Behemoth like a mere pet elicited an incredulous chuckle from Faust.

 Chapter 214 - 214 A Game Of Deception

    As Faust observed his friend, a sudden surge of powerful energy made him stiffen. Instinctively, he began to scan his surroundings. Aaron, who had been joking moments before, also sensed the presence and drew his sword. A voice rang out from the air.


    "Ah, there you are! I''ve been looking for you two."


    The tension eased as Faust and Aaron recognized the voice of their old friend. Emerging from the shadows was Derek, another mage they had often associated with in their younger days. Full of excitement, Derek wasted no time delivering his news.


    "You two shouldn''t be lounging around like this. The Emperor of Pamir¡­ well, let''s just say something big is happening."


    Derek''s story was astonishing, enough to pique even their aging ears. Despite their declining vitality, the tale was impossible to ignore.


    "So, what you''re saying is, we should go after the Emperor?" Aaron asked, his tone laced with curiosity. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Derek nodded solemnly. "Exactly. Old men like us have nothing left to lose. None of us can push our limits any further. What do you say? Shall we go together?"


    Faust fell silent, his mind racing. As he aged, his magical prowess seemed to wane, and the prospect of achieving higher mastery felt increasingly out of reach. Aaron shared the same sentiment. After a brief exchange of glances, they nodded in agreement.


    "We can''t sit this one out. We''ll join you," Aaron declared.


    Similar scenes were unfolding across the Rubell continent. Spurred by rumors of the Emperor of Pamir possessing a secret to immortality and rejuvenation, an "Elder Expedition" began to take shape, driven by hope and desperation.


    Michael, on the other hand, was overjoyed by the overwhelming flood of responses his scheme had generated. Inspired by a tale involving Crown Prince Oswald, he had crafted this plan, and the results far exceeded his expectations. The rumor that the Emperor of Pamir held a miraculous life-extension technique and maintained his youth through its use spread like wildfire.


    Elders, who had previously secluded themselves to focus solely on personal cultivation, began emerging from their isolation, abandoning their long-held disciplines. The mere suggestion of a chance to extend their lifespans was enough to compel them to leap into action.


    Even Charles V, who had always maintained a distant relationship with Michael and Duke Capone, sent an encouraging letter full of warmth and praise. This alone hinted at the scale of Michael''s success.


    Michael''s objective was clear: gather reclusive masters, incite distrust and discord within the Empire, and ultimately assassinate the Emperor. By placing the comparatively inept Oswald on the throne, the benefits would be boundless.


    Unaware of Michael''s true intentions, Crown Prince Oswald looked at him with worry-filled eyes. Oswald knew the secret behind his father''s method of extending life¡ªit was a forbidden art that defied the heavens¡ªand the potential fallout terrified him.


    "Count Michael, isn''t this getting out of hand? If the truth comes to light, there will be chaos¡­" Oswald murmured anxiously.


    Michael shook his head. For him, the worse the reputation of the Pamir Empire became, the better. Still, there was no need to tell Oswald that.


    "This is the only way to bring your father down," Michael replied smoothly. "Think of it positively. A man who uses such vile techniques must die for the continent to find peace."


    It was a strange logic, but Oswald reluctantly gave up trying to persuade Michael otherwise. After all, his own survival depended on his father''s death.


    Sensing Oswald''s resignation, Michael leaned in and added softly, "Your father is said to have gathered every life-prolonging technique across the continent. Surely, there''s something among them that will appeal to these warriors. They''ll leave satisfied once they get what they came for."


    This was true. The Emperor, who had feared death to an obsessive degree since his youth, had collected every known life-extending method, enough to fill an entire library.


    "That''s true. I just hope everything goes well¡­" Oswald sighed.


    Michael smiled. It didn''t matter; he would ensure that things worked in his favor.


    "When it does, don''t forget our agreement."


    Avoiding Michael''s gaze, Oswald lowered his head. How had it come to this? he wondered bitterly. The terms of their deal haunted him¡ªassisting Michael in killing his father and ascending to the throne, in exchange for ceding a portion of the Empire''s territory.


    "Fine. I gave my word and staked my life on this contract. I''ll honor it," Oswald muttered.


    Watching Oswald''s dejection, Michael smirked internally. If only you knew, he thought. If you realized I was a forgotten descendant of the Kingdom of Xerx, you''d never have made this deal.


    In the corner of the room, Michael''s cat, Miaomiao, stared at him incredulously, as if in disbelief. Michael glanced at the feline and frowned.


    Politics, after all, was a game of deception. If people from the same country deceived one another, what harm was there in tricking the Crown Prince of a rival nation?


    ...


    The weather was nothing short of perfect. The biting chill that regularly visited during the nights had transformed into a gentle warmth, and the trees swayed lightly, showing off their lush greenery.


    In such splendid weather, Michael was grooming his horse, Bucephalus. The black, glossy-coated steed snorted softly, enjoying his master''s gentle and meticulous touch, his eyes half-closed in contentment.


    With time left before the hidden masters of the Rubell Continent were due to gather, Michael took the rare opportunity to enjoy a tranquil afternoon. Between constant battles and political maneuvering, he had hardly ever found time to rest. Now, as he basked in this momentary reprieve, he felt as though all the burdens weighing on his soul had momentarily washed away.


    As he slowly brushed Bucephalus''s sleek coat, Michael allowed himself to forget, even if briefly, about the wars, conspiracies, and struggles for power that consumed his life. Yet, deep down, he knew this peaceful time would not last, and a sigh escaped his lips.


    "A life like this, living peacefully among animals, wouldn''t be so bad," he thought. But the idea of abandoning everything for such a dream seemed impossible. There were too many goals yet to be achieved, and without fulfilling them, true peace would remain elusive. The weight of countless lives resting on his shoulders often robbed him of sleep.

 Chapter 215 - 215 Dissatisfaction With The Emperor

    Bucephalus happily crunched on the apples Michael handed him, his content expression bringing a faint smile to his master''s face. Michael continued grooming the horse, hoping his touch provided comfort. Since Marcus''s arrival, Bucephalus had seemed noticeably subdued, though he had begun regaining his usual vigor.


    Even so, seeing Bucephalus stomp his hooves in eagerness to carry Michael into battle tugged at his heart. The horse, now munching on his third apple, affectionately nuzzled Michael, drawing a smile from his lips.


    After feeding Bucephalus, Michael wiped his saliva-slicked hands on his clothes and lay on the grass. Nearby, Miaomiao, his ever-watchful feline companion, settled down beside him. Miaomiao, however, was sulking, clearly displeased with the attention Michael lavished on Bucephalus. Occasionally, the cat would bare its teeth at the horse, but Bucephalus, long accustomed to such antics, merely snorted dismissively.


    [Tch, that horse is getting cocky these days,] Miaomiao muttered, her tail flicking irritably.


    Unable to tolerate the horse''s condescending look, Miaomiao unsheathed her claws in warning. Michael chuckled at their antics, but as expected, the peaceful afternoon didn''t last long.


    In the distance, a rider appeared, galloping toward them. At first a mere speck, the figure soon grew closer, their expression filled with urgency. A messenger.


    "Lord Michael! Urgent news! Urgent news!"


    The messenger dismounted, panting heavily as he presented a sealed letter. Michael sighed as he rose from the grass. Even a short respite was a luxury he couldn''t afford. Still, he brushed aside his fleeting frustration. Being sought out for his abilities was far better than being overlooked.


    The messenger handed Michael a letter bearing bold, powerful handwriting:


    "To Supreme Commander of Orlando Fortress, Michael von Crassus¡ªPersonal."


    The sender was none other than Duke Capone, who had returned to the royal palace.


    "Is this about progress on what we discussed?" Michael wondered as he calmly broke the seal and began reading. His composed expression soon shifted to one of astonishment, then incredulity.


    "Well, this is... impressive, in its own way."


    The letter described how the retreating Pamir Empire forces, who had been driven from Elonia, were now advancing on the Pasha Kingdom. Thanks to capturing Crown Prince Oswald and the five tribal leaders, the Imperial Army had withdrawn from all fronts in Lania and Elonia.


    Michael had expected them to camp in the plains or retreat further, but raiding the Pasha Kingdom? Then again, considering their original motive for war¡ªsecuring food supplies¡ªit wasn''t entirely surprising. Elonia likely turned a blind eye, unwilling to expend resources stopping them.


    Michael chuckled at the irony. Pasha''s ministers, who had gone to great lengths to avoid sending reinforcements, were now facing the consequences of their inaction. Though he pitied the Pasha citizens, Michael couldn''t help but think, "This is what happens when you ignore the alliance."


    "This is why people should live righteously," Michael muttered wryly.


    The messenger, still lingering nearby, glanced at Michael with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Was the war over? Or had it begun anew? His face betrayed the conflicting emotions of hope and fear.


    Michael pondered briefly. He realized this news could boost his soldiers'' morale. Many troops harbored resentment toward Pasha''s delayed participation in the alliance, and this revelation might rekindle their unity.


    With a hint of amusement, Michael spoke. "The Pamir Empire forces have turned their sights on Pasha. They''re invading as we speak."


    The messenger''s reaction was immediate¡ªhis eyes widened in surprise before his face broke into a triumphant grin. "After watching others suffer like it was someone else''s problem, they''re finally facing the fire themselves. Serves them right!"


    Realizing his bluntness, the messenger quickly glanced at Michael for approval. Instead of reprimanding him, Michael simply nodded, granting silent permission to spread the news. Relieved and elated, the messenger hurried off to deliver the update.


    The soldiers, already gathered in curiosity, erupted into cheers when the news reached them. Their voices echoed across the camp in a raucous celebration. Michael watched the scene unfold, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.


    Mocking laughter about the Pasha Kingdom''s ineffectiveness echoed throughout the camp. For soldiers, who had been living in constant anxiety, unsure when the war might resume, the kingdom''s misfortune was a welcome piece of good news.


    It was a cruel reality, but humans are inherently self-centered. Besides, Pasha''s underhanded behavior during the alliance had played a significant role in shaping such reactions.


    As Michael observed his soldiers reveling in the news, a sense of satisfaction washed over him. Meanwhile, Miaomiao, who had been sprawled lazily on the grass, stretched with a wide yawn and stood up.


    [Ah, foolish Pasha. They couldn''t see beyond their own noses, chasing short-term gains, and now they''ve paid the price. Michael, make sure you don''t turn out like that.]


    Michael chuckled, reaching out to pat Miaomiao on the head.


    "Don''t worry. That won''t happen. And if it does, you''ll stop me, won''t you?"


    His playful response earned a dismissive snort from the feline, though her upright tail betrayed her good mood.


    [But if Pasha gets invaded, doesn''t that mean we''ll have to march to war again?]


    Miaomiao''s voice carried a tinge of concern. Though fierce in battle, she disliked the slaughter of war. To her, it often felt more like one-sided massacres than true conflicts.


    Michael shook his head firmly. "There''s no need for that. They betrayed the Three Kingdoms Alliance first, so there''s no point in shedding unnecessary blood. Besides, Pasha has a famous commander¡ªa seasoned veteran. Their defenses will hold."


    Miaomiao, now licking her paw, seemed lost in thought.


    [It''s not that simple. The Empire still has many elite forces. Reaching the Emperor won''t be easy.]


    Her words carried an undercurrent of worry. Michael, smiling gently, stroked her soft fur. Miaomiao closed her eyes and purred contentedly, his touch both soothing and tender.


    "You''re right. But even within the Empire, there''s considerable dissent against the Emperor. Anyone can see he''s unfit to rule. If we rally behind Crown Prince Oswald, the resistance shouldn''t be too overwhelming." S§×ar?h the N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Miaomiao let out a long sigh, her paw resting against her chest. Her gaze reflected profound disillusionment with the complexities of human politics and warfare.


    [Humans are so complicated. They don''t even enjoy their short lives but waste them scheming and fighting, only to die early¡­]


    Michael gave her a sharp look, sensing her teasing undertone. "Is she bragging about her longer lifespan?" he thought, annoyed.

 Chapter 216 - 216 No Hope Feft For The Empire

    In the imperial palace of the Pamir Empire, the inner chamber where the Emperor resided was a dazzling display of gold and amber. Every wall was adorned with ornate decorations, a blinding testament to wealth and power.


    Yet, despite its brilliance, the chamber''s atmosphere was oppressively dark and heavy. The Emperor, consumed by rage, sat with a stormy expression, his eyes glinting dangerously.


    His son, held captive by Lania, had not yet been released, and though the Emperor''s concern was far from paternal, it was worry nonetheless. It stemmed not from love but from practical concerns tied to his lineage.


    Seething with anger, he unleashed his fury on his chancellor, Mufasa, who knelt before him.


    "How has it come to this? Why are the negotiations still at a standstill?"


    The Emperor''s wrath, backed by his formidable presence as a seasoned warrior, filled the chamber with an almost tangible pressure.


    "The Crown Prince is my only son! Do you intend to let my bloodline end here? And still, you dare call yourself the Chancellor of the Empire?"


    His impatience was evident. Mufasa, having heard the rumors circulating about the Emperor, cautiously lifted his head.


    The Emperor''s youthful black hair, devoid of a single gray strand, and his unblemished, smooth skin seemed unnatural. Compared to his own white-haired visage, the Emperor looked as though he hadn''t aged a day since their first meeting decades ago.


    "Why did I never question this before?" Mufasa thought, a chill running down his spine.


    The Emperor''s anger didn''t resemble a father grieving for his child; it felt more like the fury of someone denied sustenance. Suppressing the unease welling up within him, Mufasa lowered his gaze.


    Rumors had spread, suggesting that the Emperor had discovered an ancient rejuvenation technique and was using it solely for himself. But if the Crown Prince''s allegations were true, the reality was far more horrifying.


    Oblivious to his Chancellor''s unease, the Emperor stared at his own hands. A small liver spot had appeared near his thumb¡ªa telltale sign of aging. His face froze in shock. The signs of decay were returning to his body.


    This was why he had hastily launched the war: to secure more captives. But the supply had fallen far short of his expectations. Fear gripped the Emperor, and he barked an order.


    "Bring me the prisoners in the dungeon. I will have them executed to avenge my son."


    Mufasa hesitated. Over the years, the Emperor had frequently imprisoned and executed powerful individuals under various pretexts. He had personally overseen these executions, claiming to mete out divine punishment, and the bodies had vanished without a trace.


    Pale-faced, Mufasa recalled the Crown Prince''s claims. If they were true, the Emperor had been draining life energy from his own sons and from skilled warriors awakened to aura or magic.


    Unable to meet the Emperor''s gaze, Mufasa''s fear deepened. He excused himself, hastily exiting the chamber. His steps quickened as he moved away, occasionally stumbling in his haste.


    The Emperor, meanwhile, remained seated, staring at his hands, lost in growing dread. Sear?h the novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Back in his private residence, Mufasa entered his chambers and locked the door securely. He retrieved a letter from his secret study¡ªa missive from Crown Prince Oswald, delivered just the day before.


    The letter contained shocking revelations: the Emperor had been consuming the life energy of his sons and other powerful individuals to sustain his own vitality. Blood relatives yielded the best results, but knights awakened to aura or mages attuned to magic also served as viable sources.


    Mufasa gripped the letter tightly, letting out a long sigh. At first, he had dismissed its contents as baseless.


    But after facing the Emperor today, he realized the horrifying truth might lie within those words.


    Now, he stood at a crossroads. Should he remain loyal to the Emperor, or side with the Crown Prince?


    "How can I swear loyalty to someone who devours his own children?" Mufasa''s face twisted in anguish. Yet the idea of supporting a prince who sought foreign aid to overthrow his father also felt wrong.


    Tears streamed down his wrinkled face as despair engulfed him.


    "The Empire¡­ there''s no hope left for it."


    The Orlando Fortress was brimming with unprecedented vitality. News of the capture of Pamir Empire''s Crown Prince and five tribal leaders, along with the Empire''s army advancing toward the Pasha Kingdom, had sent morale soaring.


    Among the soldiers under Michael''s command, spirits were especially high. This was largely due to the success of the merit-based reward system he had implemented.


    Under this system, each soldier earned points based on their contributions¡ªfrom basic duties like guard shifts to significant feats such as defeating enemy forces and defending the fortress. These points could be redeemed for substantial rewards, allowing even the lowest-ranking soldiers to secure enough gold to buy land and support their families back home.


    This system didn''t just offer monetary compensation. It provided a tangible acknowledgment of the blood and sweat they shed, giving them a profound sense of satisfaction and purpose. For Michael''s soldiers, it made the reasons for their sacrifices crystal clear.


    The soldiers under his command carried themselves with visible pride, their shoulders squared and their steps confident.


    "Haha! This time, I''m finally going to do something for my parents. They''ve toiled as tenant farmers their whole lives¡ªI''ll exchange my rewards for a field they can call their own!" one soldier exclaimed, punching the air in excitement.


    His comrade, resting a hand on his hip, nodded approvingly. "Good thinking. Gold is fine, but if you spend it recklessly, it won''t last. Land is the way to go."


    The soldier glanced around, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Besides, our lord Michael seems destined for greatness. Burying wealth in the ground might bring even better opportunities in the future."


    Though his tone was hushed, his smile brimmed with pride. Other soldiers overheard and quickly joined the conversation.


    "You think so too? I feel the same. Our lord isn''t one to stay confined to the title of Count. He''s bound for much greater things!"


    They exchanged hearty pats on the back, laughter and cheers filling the air. Throughout the fortress, Michael''s soldiers boasted about the spoils and rewards they''d gained from the latest battles, spreading the word far and wide.

 Chapter 217 - 217 A Way To End The War With The Pamir Empire

    This was precisely what Michael had intended.


    By ensuring each soldier received fair rewards for their contributions, he aimed to fuel their drive for battle. When Michael first proposed this system, the conservative nobility had opposed it vehemently, arguing it disrupted traditional hierarchical structures.


    As a result, he was only able to implement the system within his personal forces. Yet, even within this limited scope, the benefits his soldiers enjoyed quickly became the talk of the fortress.


    The soldiers boasted not only of their earnings and rewards but also of the land they could secure upon returning home. This drew envy and discontent from those in other units, who began to feel increasingly demoralized.


    "Why didn''t our commander think of this? Look at Michael''s troops¡ªthey''ve hit the jackpot with that point system," one soldier grumbled, his gaze fixed on Michael''s men.


    "Seriously. We all risked our lives in the same war, but the disparity in treatment is ridiculous. Shouldn''t we demand the same?"


    More soldiers nodded in agreement, their expressions clouded with frustration. "Exactly. Let''s ask for the same system. We deserve fair rewards too!"


    As soldiers with similar thoughts gathered, complaints about the lack of a merit system spread like wildfire. What began as quiet murmurs grew into a wave of frustration. Increasingly, soldiers began to encourage one another to demand better treatment from their commanders.


    Caught off guard by the sudden unrest, the nobles in charge of these units were visibly flustered. They exchanged uneasy glances, struggling to figure out how to respond to the mounting pressure.


    Michael observed their disarray calmly. Anticipating this outcome, he assigned his newly appointed lieutenants to address the situation, ensuring the chaos was swiftly brought under control.


    With the matter proceeding as planned, Michael turned his focus to preparing for the next phase of his strategy¡ªa long-awaited endeavor that he was now ready to bring to fruition.


    Meanwhile, Julian paced nervously at the base of the Drago Mountains, his eyes darting around as he awaited Michael''s arrival. Accompanied by only two knights, he shivered in the cold mountain breeze, which sent chills down his spine.


    Though he had come in response to Michael''s sudden summons, he had no idea why he''d been called to such a desolate location.


    The surrounding silence was oppressive, with dense fog shrouding the area, adding an eerie atmosphere that weighed heavily on Julian''s already growing unease.


    As time dragged on, his hands grew clammy with sweat, and a sense of foreboding crept into his heart. "What could this be about?" he wondered, resisting the urge to voice his concerns aloud.


    The appointed time drew near, and suddenly, the sound of large wings flapping broke the silence.


    Julian held his breath as a shadow emerged from the faint light of the fog. Finally, Michael revealed himself.


    Michael had taken to the skies on Marcus, his dragon, intending to visit his newly expanded domain. With only Miaomiao accompanying him and traveling at full speed, the journey to his destination didn''t take long.


    The Krasus territory now stretched to include parts of the Drago Mountains, a majestic range that emerged from the dawn mist, glowing with ethereal beauty. But Michael barely noticed the scenery. His mind was focused on a singular purpose¡ªtracking down someone using the information he had extracted from the priestess Babaru, who had once ambushed him.


    This objective was part of the reason he had involved the tribal coalition in his plans.


    As they descended to the agreed-upon location near the mountain''s foothills, Michael spotted Julian waiting anxiously, his face etched with unease.


    Julian opened his mouth to question Michael''s intentions, but Michael cut him off with a firm glance. Without hesitation, he grabbed Julian''s arm and hauled him onto Marcus''s back. Caught off guard, Julian and the two knights accompanying him found themselves unceremoniously swept onto the dragon as it took off into the sky.


    Flying low enough for Marcus''s belly to skim the ground, they soon soared upward. Strapped in with hastily secured carabiners, the passengers held on tightly, their fear mingling with exhilaration.


    "Lord Michael," Julian finally managed, wiping sweat from his brow, "what''s going on? I thought this war wasn''t over yet."


    The knights beside him wore similarly puzzled expressions. Michael glanced at them, an amused smile on his lips.


    "I''m working on a way to end this war with the Pamir Empire once and for all. Do you recall one of the tribes absorbed into our territory¡ªa particularly reclusive one?"


    Julian furrowed his brow, mulling over the question. Despite the unexpected situation, his composure was notable.


    "Reclusive in what sense? If you provide more details, it might help narrow it down. Many of the tribes have their own quirks."


    Michael nodded and elaborated. "It''s a small tribe, and their chieftain is young. But their authority seems to rest with an elder¡ªa woman who holds the title of priestess and never leaves her tent."


    Julian''s eyes lit up with recognition. "There is such a tribe. Their young chief insisted on bringing their priestess whenever they were shown potential settlement areas. What stood out was how the priestess traveled¡ªin a completely sealed palanquin, shielded from even the slightest sunlight."


    Michael''s satisfied smile grew wider. If Julian''s description was accurate, his plan was falling into place. S§×arch* The N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Excellent. What is this tribe called, and where are they now? We need to find them immediately."


    Julian, having anticipated this outcome, responded without hesitation. "They''re the Desert Fox Tribe. Their exact location is¡­"


    The daily routine of the Desert Fox Tribe began around 4 a.m. Women draped in lightweight muslin cloaks woke their children and milked the goats penned within their enclosures. Meanwhile, the men sharpened their curved blades against whetstones in preparation for the day.


    Though they had little use for these weapons after pledging allegiance to Michael and leaving the Pamir Empire''s oppressive rule, maintaining their tools was a deeply ingrained habit. The blades that once defended their lives and families across the vast Pamir plateau were treated with meticulous care.

 Chapter 218 - 218 The Desert Fox Tribe

    Some tribe members gazed wistfully westward, lost in memories. Were they recalling past glories or mourning the loved ones they had left behind during their desperate flight?


    In a gesture of solidarity, the tribe''s women ensured that meals were prepared communally, allowing everyone, especially those grieving losses, to eat together.


    The original residents of the Krasus territory, witnessing the tribe''s effort to rebuild their lives, occasionally gifted them fresh fruit or vegetables. Michael''s equitable policies, enforced by Julian and Arnando, had fostered mutual understanding between the newcomers and the locals.


    Their breakfast was a simple yet hearty affair: thin flour dough baked on hot stones, served with goat milk and vegetable salads. As always, the matron Mahu bustled around, ensuring the seasoning was perfect and that everyone had enough to eat.


    Her routine was interrupted by the sound of massive wings beating in the distance. Mahu, who had become wary and cautious from their harrowing escape, instinctively tensed. The area around their settlement in the Drago Mountains was not yet secure, and danger could strike at any moment.


    As the shadow of a large creature loomed on the horizon, Mahu grabbed a pot and banged it loudly to sound the alarm.


    Startled by the noise, the tribe''s warriors grabbed their weapons and rushed out, ready to defend their people. Women shepherded the children and elders indoors, their large, anxious eyes betraying the lingering trauma of their flight from the Empire.


    Inside one of the tents, Anita, the tribe''s priestess, awoke to the commotion. Rather than fear, her face lit up with excitement as she reached for the small bell by her side and rang it.


    Moments later, Ismahal, her grandson and the tribe''s chieftain, burst into the tent. He appeared uncertain, torn between sending a messenger to the nearby Krasus stronghold or bracing for an attack. But Anita''s radiant expression stopped him in his tracks.


    "Calm everyone down," she instructed. "He''s coming¡ªthe one who will change our destiny."


    Ismahal''s face brightened at her words. His grandmother''s prophetic abilities were unerring. With newfound confidence, he stepped out to address the gathered warriors.


    "Quiet! Everyone, be silent! Lady White Fox Anita says that riding this beast is the one who will become our new sun."


    The tribe''s tense expressions softened into relief and joy. To them, Anita''s prophecies carried the weight of divine truth. There was only one person she had ever called their "new sun"¡ªthe lord of the territory, Michael.


    Whispers of gratitude to their ancestors spread among the tribe members. From what they had heard, Michael commanded a fierce dragon and a sphinx as his loyal companions.


    The sight of the dragon landing nearby confirmed the stories.


    Michael carefully guided Marcus to land in an open field outside the village. Looking at the gathered tribe members, he knew it was time to meet her¡ªthe one who held the answers he sought.


    Michael couldn''t hide his admiration as he took in the view of the village before him. Its location was so cleverly chosen that one might pass by without ever realizing it was there. Without Julian''s guidance, it would have been nearly impossible to find, even after an entire day of searching.


    Julian, familiar with the chieftain, was the first to dismount from Marcus, bowing in greeting. Michael observed the gathered tribespeople, their gaunt and modest appearances contrasting sharply with the fiery determination in their eyes.


    As Julian exchanged greetings with Ismahal, the chieftain of the Desert Fox Tribe, the latter approached Michael with a mix of caution and curiosity. Michael descended gracefully from Marcus, who, accustomed to carrying his master, instinctively bent his legs to aid in the dismount.


    Despite the journey leaving him slightly fatigued, Michael exuded charisma befitting the renowned archer and rising hero of the continent. Ismahal studied him carefully, his gaze keen and analytical. As the leader of his people, Ismahal had wrestled with doubts about his decision to follow Michael. He worried that his personal judgment might lead his entire tribe into danger.


    Still, the die was cast, and he had no choice but to trust his instincts. Standing before Michael, he noted the man''s striking features¡ªhis long, lustrous black hair and a face so flawless it seemed sculpted from marble. Michael''s reputation as a military tactician seemed almost unbelievable based on appearance alone.


    But Ismahal''s doubts faded when he met Michael''s piercing crimson eyes. Those eyes burned with an expansive vision, steady and unwavering. If he had to trust someone based solely on their gaze, Michael would be the obvious choice.


    "No one who''s faced him could dismiss his victories as mere luck," Ismahal thought, suppressing a wry smile.


    Convinced, Ismahal silently signaled the hidden warriors stationed nearby to lower their weapons. Michael, aware of the arrows that had been trained on him, pretended not to notice as he greeted Ismahal with a warm smile.


    "It''s an honor to meet you, Lord Michael¡ªor should I say, Count? Thank you for accepting our tribal coalition," Ismahal said, his voice steady despite his youth. His sun-darkened skin and sturdy build spoke of resilience and strength.


    Michael replied with measured grace. "May the desert bring you glory and your descendants prosperity. I am Michael von Krasus. The help we exchanged before was mutual, so think nothing of it. Have you settled in comfortably?"


    Ismahal, his earlier wariness eased by Michael''s respectful demeanor, nodded. "Thanks to Lord Julian and Lord Arnando, we''ve managed well enough. What remains, time will resolve."


    By now, the tribespeople had gathered, drawn by curiosity. Michael''s breathtaking appearance and polite mannerisms caused a stir, especially among the women. Their whispers of admiration spread quickly, turning into a growing buzz of excitement.


    As the man who had freed them from the harsh conditions of the Pamir Empire and reunited families separated by war, Michael was already a figure of deep gratitude and respect. His genuine smile¡ªa rare sight¡ªonly solidified their positive impression.


    Some of the younger women blushed as they shyly invited him to join their breakfast. Julian, concerned about Michael''s schedule, attempted to intervene. Sear?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

 Chapter 219 - 219 Lady Anita

    "My lord, surely your time is limited¡­"


    But Michael waved off the concern. "I have plenty of time for a meal with those who''ve come so far to place their trust in me."


    Taking his seat among the tribespeople, Michael was greeted warmly. Before him was lanlan, the traditional flatbread of the Pamir Plateau, still warm from the fire.


    Ismahal demonstrated how to eat it, folding the bread around a tangy-sweet vegetable salad before taking a bite. Following suit, Michael found the dish surprisingly delicious¡ªthe saltiness balanced the bread''s blandness, while the vegetables added a refreshing crunch.


    After devouring nearly ten pieces, Michael and Julian leaned back, patting their full stomachs. Ismahal, puffing on a long pipe, broke the brief silence with a probing question.


    "It seems your visit isn''t just to check on our living conditions."


    Michael met his gaze with a knowing smile. "You already know why I''m here, don''t you? I''ve heard rumors of a White Deer residing in this place."


    Ismahal''s expression tensed, his earlier caution returning. But he quickly suppressed his emotions, remembering his grandmother''s instructions on how to handle such situations.


    "The White Deer, Lady Anita¡ªmy grandmother¡ªis unable to leave her quarters. You may greet her outside, but her abilities have long since waned. She might offer a simple divination, nothing more." S§×arch* The N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Michael''s smile didn''t waver, though his tone sharpened slightly. "Let''s not play games, Chieftain. I know the truth. The title of White Deer is passed down among your priestesses, isn''t it? And the current White Deer is no longer your grandmother."


    Ismahal''s face stiffened, and his pupils trembled as if struck by lightning.


    "How do you¡­ No, it''s impossible. Anita can''t be moved. She''s¡­" His voice faltered as memories of his late grandmother flooded his mind.


    Years ago, when his grandmother, the previous White Deer, had been on her deathbed, she had called for Ismahal.


    "Listen to me carefully, Ismahal. Your younger sister isn''t strong enough to bear the mantle of the White Deer. When I die, don''t announce it. Especially not to the five great tribes or the surrounding clans. Let them believe I''ve simply grown too old and weak to continue my duties."


    She paused, coughing violently, before continuing. "Thankfully, it''s been nearly a decade since I last used my powers, so no one will suspect anything. Only the old bear, Babaru, has an inkling of our situation, but even she despises war too much to involve us. Remember this, child¡ªnever let the new White Deer reveal her abilities. The strain will destroy her fragile body, and she''ll be dragged to the battlefield, only to die in vain."


    Tears streaming down his face, Ismahal had promised to honor her final wish.


    When the night came, he buried her alone under the cover of darkness. To protect his sister, he disguised her as the elder Anita, keeping her hidden in the deepest part of their home.


    Now, confronted by Michael''s probing gaze, Ismahal struggled to maintain his composure. Michael''s words threatened to unravel everything he had worked so hard to conceal.


    Had Ismahal not concealed Anita, she would have been conscripted to the battlefield long ago, her abilities wasted in vain until her death. Yet here he was, facing someone who had come for the very power he had worked so hard to protect.


    Furious at his own misjudgment, Ismahal rose abruptly, his face contorted in rage.


    "If you intend to take Anita, you''ll have to kill me first!"


    Michael, unfazed by Ismahal''s outburst, calmly reached into his coat and retrieved a silk-wrapped bundle.


    "Who said anything about taking her by force? Show me to her, and I''ll heal your sister''s illness."


    Ismahal''s eyes darted nervously toward the dragon and sphinx perched near Michael. Could his words be true? If this was a lie¡­ With Michael''s legendary skill as an archer combined with his mythical beasts, there was no chance of victory.


    Lowering his head, Ismahal wrestled with his options. He couldn''t risk the lives of his entire tribe for his sister, and yet¡­ what if Michael could actually help?


    "You claim you can heal her? Do you even know what illness she suffers from? No healer has ever been able to cure it. No one has been able to undo that cursed fate," Ismahal said, his voice tinged with desperation.


    Michael''s crimson eyes narrowed into a crescent as he smiled softly.


    "Then trust me, one last time, Chieftain Ismahal."


    Michael stood by the bedside of a frail girl, her pallid complexion even paler than that of the Rubell Continent''s natives. Her skin was so translucent it seemed more like glass than flesh. Though her features resembled her tribespeople''s, her platinum-white hair and transparent crimson eyes marked her as different.


    The traits were unmistakable¡ªshe was an albino, just as Michael had suspected.


    "Welcome, future Archon," Anita, the White Deer, greeted Michael. Her ethereal, dreamlike voice carried the cadence of a seer. Though lying down, she exuded a serene dignity.


    "My brother was disrespectful, was he not? Please forgive him."


    Michael smiled at her tranquil gaze. "Not at all, crimson-eyed angel."


    The unexpected title startled Ismahal, but Anita only smiled graciously.


    "You''re far too kind. I''ve done nothing to earn such an honor. I am merely Anita, the White Deer, priestess of my tribe and servant of our ancestors."


    Her humble response reminded Michael of the strange memories he had glimpsed in Babaru''s soul.


    The old priestess had recounted tales of albino children born among the harsh deserts of the Pamir Plateau, gifted with powers of healing and prophecy. Yet these children rarely survived beyond the age of sixteen, their frail bodies unable to bear the strain of their abilities.


    Babaru had once met such a priestess and agreed to keep the secret, repulsed by the prospect of war and unwilling to expose the girl to its horrors.


    Armed with this knowledge, Michael had come to confirm his suspicions. He gently pulled back the blanket covering Anita, causing Ismahal to flinch, though Anita herself remained calm.


    "She''s unusually composed, even for someone with prophetic abilities," Michael mused.


    He examined her thin wrists and ankles. Despite her petite frame, her bones were sturdy and unusually thick¡ªa sign of chronic illness and malnutrition.

 Chapter 220 - 220 Healing

    "Pardon me, young lady, but how old are you?" Michael asked, his tone polite.


    Anita chuckled softly, her voice brighter now. "I''m seventeen this year. Everyone said I wouldn''t make it past sixteen, but thanks to my brother''s care, I''ve survived."


    Michael nodded, noting her small stature. The signs of her prolonged illness were undeniable. Calling Julian closer, Michael turned his attention back to Anita.


    "Anita, don''t worry. I believe I can heal you," he said, his voice steady and reassuring.


    Anita glanced at Julian, her curiosity piqued. His gentle brown eyes and scholarly demeanor matched the ideal she had imagined for her savior. Though unmoved by Michael''s celestial beauty, her cheeks flushed slightly as she studied Julian.


    Noticing this, Michael subtly glanced at Julian and smiled. The budding affection between them had not escaped his notice. Perhaps an unexpected romance could blossom, he thought.


    If Anita became tied to his household through marriage, it would strengthen the integration of the tribe into his territory and foster unity between the tribal newcomers and his original subjects.


    Michael''s smile deepened. This could work even better than I planned.


    Anita repeatedly glanced at Julian but returned her gaze to Michael. To someone with prophetic abilities like hers, Michael felt different from others¡ªhe seemed to radiate an aura, almost like a divine glow.


    She was certain Michael was the "sun" destined to change her tribe''s fate. But could he truly cure her illness?


    Despite possessing the power to heal severed limbs¡ªa gift so extraordinary that even legendary healers of old would marvel¡ªshe couldn''t escape her congenital affliction. She had tried using her powers on herself, and though her condition temporarily improved, the symptoms always returned.


    Her powers left her weak and breathless, preventing frequent use, and every attempt ended in despair. It was a cruel irony. She could heal others but not herself.


    Michael studied Anita intently, piecing together the details of her condition. In truth, the solution was straightforward. Had she not been born in the desert, the cause of her illness would have been obvious.


    Anita''s sickness stemmed from a combination of her albinism, lack of sunlight, and diet devoid of crucial nutrients. Living in the sun-scorched desert while avoiding sunlight and certain foods had set the stage for her condition.


    Julian carefully unwrapped the silk bundle Michael had brought, revealing a faintly fishy smell. For the Desert Fox Tribe, accustomed to the arid sands, it was an unfamiliar scent. When Julian removed the straw covering the contents, fresh mackerel and neatly arranged eggs came into view.


    Michael ignored the puzzled expressions of those around him and turned to Anita.


    "You''ve likely had little to no exposure to sunlight, correct?"


    Anita nodded hesitantly. It was true¡ªdirect sunlight caused her skin to swell and burn painfully.


    "And I''m guessing you''ve never eaten fish before?"


    Again, she nodded. She had only ever read or heard about fish; seeing one in person was a first.


    "The staple foods of the Desert Fox Tribe are likely flatbreads made of flour, vegetables, and goat milk. You probably don''t eat eggs often either. And I''d wager you don''t like goat milk, do you?" S~ea??h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Anita nodded again, this time with a faint smile. She didn''t dislike many foods, but goat milk had always repelled her, just as it had her grandmother and mother.


    Michael smiled warmly. "That confirms it. Anita, your condition is caused by malnutrition. Without sunlight and without foods like fish or eggs, children are more vulnerable to this kind of illness."


    Gently lifting her wrist, Michael continued, "You''ve spent your life avoiding the sun, and living in the desert meant you didn''t have access to fish or eggs. That''s why you developed this condition."


    Though his explanation was incomplete, Michael withheld the full truth. He couldn''t yet reveal that her illness had ties to an ancient curse.


    Anita''s transparent crimson eyes welled with tears. "So¡­ just sunlight and fish will cure me?" she asked in a trembling voice.


    Michael reached out to wipe her tears, his touch warm and reassuring. She began to cry harder, overwhelmed by the mix of emotions.


    "Eat the fish and eggs I''ve brought, and continue using your healing powers. You''ll see improvement," he said, his bright smile cutting through the gloom of the dim room.


    Anita, captivated by Michael''s light, nodded and returned his smile, her tear-streaked face glowing with hope.


    Ismahal watched his sister''s smile, feeling immense gratitude toward Michael. That smile, radiant enough to chase away the shadows of despair, was worth everything.


    As Anita and Ismahal exchanged looks of relief and joy, Michael discreetly activated his unique abilities. He needed to confirm whether Anita''s body truly harbored the curse of an ancient deity.


    It''s as I suspected, he thought grimly.


    Anita wasn''t only suffering from rickets due to vitamin D deficiency and her albinism¡ªher condition was also tied to an ancient curse passed down through her tribe.


    In a more advanced world, rickets could be easily prevented with proper sunlight and a balanced diet. But this land, lagging even behind medieval Earth in medical knowledge, had no such luxury. The reliance on healers had stunted medical progress.


    Rickets caused bones to deform, leading to stunted growth and difficulty walking. In Anita''s case, her albinism had forced her to avoid sunlight entirely, depriving her of vitamin D. She had also avoided goat milk, a potential source of the nutrient.


    Still, a simple deficiency couldn''t explain why successive generations of the tribe''s gifted individuals had died so young. Michael''s investigations had suggested something more sinister: the curse of an ancient deity.


    If that were true, curing Anita required two steps¡ªreplenishing her vitamin D and removing the deity''s curse. Fortunately, Michael had the means to do both.


    He held Anita''s wrist and spoke gently. "Anita, I need to speak with you alone for a moment. Would everyone please step outside?"


    Ismahal hesitated but relented when Anita nodded her consent. Julian and the others followed him out, leaving Michael and Anita alone.

 Chapter 221 - 221 Completely Healed.

    Once the room was silent, Michael shifted closer to Anita, his expression soft but serious. "Anita, there''s more to your illness than just malnutrition. Do you trust me to help you?"


    Anita gazed at him, her crimson eyes filled with trust. "I trust you, Michael. You''ve given me hope when I had none."


    Michael''s lips curved into a faint smile. "Good. Let''s begin."


    Once everyone had left the room, Michael met Anita''s gaze. Calm and resolute, she spoke first.


    "You don''t need to explain what you''re going to do. Just do whatever is necessary."


    Her serene acceptance left Michael momentarily awestruck. Is this what prophecy looks like? he wondered.


    Without further hesitation, Michael began to absorb the ancient energy that had bound itself to Anita''s lineage for generations. The curse, rooted deep in her maternal bloodline, transformed into a palpable energy as it flowed into him.


    Anita''s body grew lighter, and she marveled at the sensation. Most people would have questioned the changes occurring within them, but Anita maintained her silence. Some things, she knew, were better left unknown.


    When Michael finished absorbing the curse''s energy, Anita''s complexion had visibly improved. The oppressive force that had shackled her powers was gone.


    "How do you feel?" Michael asked.


    In response, Anita raised her arms and bent her legs, testing her body with an expression of wonder. Michael watched her, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.


    "You''ll no longer lose life force when using your powers," he reassured her.


    Anita looked up at him, her crimson eyes meeting his own. "Does that mean¡­ I''ll be sent to the battlefield now?"


    The unexpected question gave Michael pause. A somber look crossed his face before he nodded reluctantly.


    "I''m sorry. Given the current situation, it''s unavoidable."


    Guilt weighed on him. He felt as though he had disrupted the peace she had known, forcing her into a life she had never asked for.


    But Anita surprised him again. "Why are you apologizing? Don''t be. I''m excited!" she said, her face alight with anticipation. "I''ve dreamed of venturing out into the world ever since I started reading storybooks. Now that I''m healthy, I can finally do it."


    Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Michael couldn''t help but chuckle. He had assumed that her frail condition had shaped a demure personality, but he realized now how wrong he had been.


    "I''m glad to hear that. There''s so much I can show you," Michael said warmly.


    Anita''s face glowed with hope and excitement. She reached out her hand to him. "I''d like to go outside. Is that possible now?"


    Michael nodded. "First, try using your healing abilities on yourself."


    Anita took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she focused on her powers. In her mind, she pictured herself strong and vibrant, running across open fields and engaging with the world. Her longing for a healthy life filled her heart.


    As she activated her abilities, her bent spine straightened, and a healthy flush returned to her once-pale complexion. With consistent use, she would grow taller and stronger.


    The moment Anita tapped into her powers, her consciousness transcended reality, reaching a higher spiritual plane.


    In this heightened state, she observed her own soul, where tiny lights began to stir, then turned her gaze outward¡ªto Michael''s soul, now vividly manifest before her. S§×ar?h the n?velFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    What she saw took her breath away. Michael''s soul was massive and unyielding, like a towering mountain. Its sheer magnitude evoked both reverence and fear, as if its presence alone could stifle her breath.


    If her soul was a delicate desert flower, Michael''s was an ancient, indomitable tree. If she was a gentle breeze, he was a storm that could reshape the world.


    His soul burned fiercely, embodying both chaos and order, light and shadow. It was a force that could influence all living things¡ªa power that transcended human limitations.


    Anita tried to comprehend the entirety of Michael''s essence but quickly realized her limits. His soul was too vast, too profound for her to fully grasp.


    With a sigh, she withdrew her focus. Compared to the ancestral spirits she had known, Michael''s soul was far greater.


    "Yes, it''s him. This man is the sun, destined to envelop everything in his light. No one can stop him."


    Yet, she wasn''t afraid. If anything, a deep yearning to support his vision filled her heart. Even if it meant sacrificing everything she held dear, she felt compelled to see his dreams come to fruition.


    As she ended her spiritual journey, Anita opened her eyes. Grasping Michael''s hand, she slowly stood.


    Her legs trembled after years of confinement, but Michael''s steady grip gave her strength. Step by unsteady step, she moved forward, her world expanding with each movement.


    For years, her entire existence had been confined to the shadows of her home. Now, for the first time, the horizon stretched endlessly before her. She tightened her hold on Michael''s hand, savoring the promise of a brighter future.


    Outside, Ismahal paced nervously. The sound of the door opening drew his attention, and he looked up in astonishment.


    There, walking on her own, was Anita¡ªhis precious sister who had never ventured outside without assistance.


    Ismahal''s breath caught in his throat, a sound like a beast''s sob escaping him.


    His sister, his jewel, was completely healed.


    After hearing the full story from Anita, Ismahal insisted on accompanying her and Michael. He wanted to witness his sister''s growth and felt a deep admiration for Michael. If Michael truly was the protagonist of the prophecy passed down through the tribe, Ismahal wanted to be there to see it unfold.


    After consulting with the tribe, he appointed a sturdy middle-aged man as interim chieftain and prepared to depart. Michael saw no reason to refuse Ismahal''s company¡ªhe recognized him as a skilled warrior and a valuable ally.


    As evening approached, Anita and Julian were reluctantly pried apart. The two had seemingly created their own little world in just a day, with promises of the future exchanged and tears shed as they parted.

 Chapter 222 - 222 The Queen Furies

    Watching their tender farewell, Ismahal narrowed his eyes at Julian, his expression bordering on disdain. How dare this man set his sights on my little sister, he fumed inwardly.


    Meanwhile, Anita settled into Marcus''s saddle, fastening her carabiner as Michael approached her with a curious smile.


    "Anita, did you foresee a future with Julian? Is that why things progressed so quickly between you two?"


    Anita''s radiant smile widened as she replied, "The future is both fluid and fixed. Actions taken to change it often lead to the very outcomes that were foreseen. I''ve come to understand this through my teachings. If I''ve revealed any part of the future, it''s because it was meant to be shared in that moment."


    Michael pondered her cryptic words. Time paradoxes, perhaps? Deciding it was too complex for him, he shrugged off the thought. His primary reason for bringing Anita was her safety, though her extraordinary healing abilities were an undeniable bonus.


    With a teasing grin, Michael asked again, "Still, you didn''t exactly answer my question."


    Blushing under the glow of the setting sun, Anita laughed softly. "Julian is exactly the kind of person I dreamed of. I''m not sure if he''s my type because I saw him in a vision or if I saw him because he''s my type. Either way¡­ isn''t it more romantic to think he''s just my type?"


    Michael nodded with a chuckle. A wise and romantic answer indeed.


    Nearby, Ismahal seethed as he watched the exchange. His sister had only just recovered, and now this man was trying to woo her. It was infuriating.


    The only silver lining was that Julian couldn''t join them due to his responsibilities in managing the territory. For now, Julian could only gaze longingly at the sky, silently praying for Michael and Anita''s safety.


    Michael glanced at him from atop Marcus and mused, Falling in love in a single day¡­ They''re like Romeo and Juliet.


    Meanwhile, in the royal palace of Lania, another woman found herself consumed by thoughts of love.


    Princess Astrid was in the midst of her lessons with her father, King Charles V. Despite the king''s stern demeanor, Astrid appreciated the time he took to educate her, even if his gaze often betrayed a subtle sadness.


    What was hardest to bear, however, was the way her mother looked at her¡ªwith resentment, as if Astrid had stolen her brother''s place.


    During a brief break, Astrid tried to clear her mind of the heavy burdens of court life by indulging in a favorite daydream. She imagined herself with Michael, selecting books together, lying on the grass as he read to her, a gentle breeze caressing them.


    But her father''s firm voice shattered her reverie.


    "Astrid, let''s continue."


    She nodded, pushing herself to absorb the knowledge her father imparted. She knew he had little faith in her, but she was determined to exceed his expectations.


    After the lesson, Astrid hurried to the library, eager to revisit a book that tied into her studies. Lifting her skirt slightly, she rushed through the palace corridors, her heart light with anticipation.


    But her path was blocked in the colonnade by none other than the queen. Sear?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Astrid froze, lowering her skirts and plastering a neutral expression on her face. Years of fear and tension welled up as the queen fixed her with a cold, mocking gaze.


    "Well, aren''t you pleased with yourself?" the queen sneered. "Skipping dance and embroidery lessons to bury your nose in books¡ªhave you found your calling at last?"


    Astrid drew a deep breath to steady herself before replying. If I can''t face my own mother, how can I ever rule a kingdom?


    "Mother, your words are unfounded. I''ve always given my best to my duties, and I see reading as an essential skill for a princess. Given the current situation, I''m fortunate that my interests align with my responsibilities."


    She curtsied lightly and tried to continue on her way, but the queen''s sharp nails dug into her wrist, halting her.


    "Stop right there! Do you think you can ignore me now that you''re the crown princess?"


    Astrid clenched her jaw, the sting of the queen''s grip fueling her determination. Sometimes, she wondered if she was truly her mother''s child.


    As if reading her thoughts, the queen hissed, "You were a thorn in my side even in the womb¡ªso different from Randolph."


    Lowering her voice to a venomous whisper, she added, "Listen carefully. Tell your father you want to marry Franklin. Do you understand me?"


    The queen''s demand for a union with her cousin was thinly veiled as she continued, "Think wisely, Astrid. Your position isn''t secure yet. You''ll need the support of my family if you wish to keep it."


    Astrid counted to ten silently, steadying her breath before replying, "That won''t be possible, Mother. Franklin is in no position to aid me. As the crown princess, it''s my duty to enter a marriage that benefits the kingdom."


    The queen''s eyes flashed with fury as her grip tightened.


    The queen''s grip on Astrid''s wrist tightened further as her anger flared.


    "How dare you imply that your maternal family is of no use to you? Are you disregarding me entirely?"


    Astrid let out a barely audible sigh, keeping her voice calm as she responded.


    "That''s not what I meant, Mother. My maternal family should support me unconditionally, shouldn''t they? What alternative do they have? Marrying a cousin offers no benefit in this situation."


    Defeated by her daughter''s logic, the queen''s fingers dug deeper into Astrid''s wrist in frustration.


    Their tense standoff was interrupted by a smooth, authoritative voice.


    "Well, well¡­ Her Majesty the Queen and the Crown Princess. Are we playing tag, perhaps? Your Majesty, might I suggest you release the princess''s wrist? Even a mother''s love shouldn''t leave marks like these."


    Startled, the queen released Astrid''s wrist. Red marks and faint traces of blood were visible on the princess''s delicate skin.


    "Duke Capone," the queen said, forcing composure into her tone. "What brings you here? I was having a private conversation with my daughter."


    Duke Capone stepped forward, his demeanor courteous yet firm. He bowed slightly to Astrid, placing a light kiss on her hand before inspecting her injury. Turning back to the queen, his expression grew serious.

 Chapter 223 - 223 Proposal

    "First, I believe tending to the princess''s injury takes precedence. Someone, please escort Her Majesty to her chambers. The sunlight seems unusually harsh today¡ªher complexion appears rather unwell."


    The queen''s attendants, who had been standing by anxiously, quickly stepped forward to intervene. Even they couldn''t ignore the impropriety of the queen leaving visible marks on the Crown Princess. Recognizing the need to preserve her dignity, the queen adjusted her skirts and withdrew with a haughty air.


    Duke Capone watched her retreat with a faint smirk before turning back to Astrid.


    "Take my hand, Your Highness. Let''s address your injury first."


    Astrid hesitated, biting her lip. She had tried so hard to avoid this kind of confrontation, yet here she was.


    "I must look so pitiful. Thank you, Duke Capone, for stepping in."


    The duke gave her a reassuring smile. "Rescuing a princess in distress is every knight''s dream, Your Highness. Think nothing of it."


    Astrid allowed herself a small smile as she took his offered hand. He called over his attendant healer to treat her wrist, then led her toward a rose garden in full bloom.


    "There''s something important I wish to discuss with you today," the duke began.


    Astrid stopped in her tracks, her heart sinking. Even him? she thought. Was he here to propose another unwanted match?


    Not wanting to worsen the situation, she decided to decline before he could ask.


    "Duke Capone," she began, her tone apologetic, "if this is about a marriage proposal, I must refuse. I have no interest in marrying your grandson. Ludwig is more like a brother to me."


    The duke blinked in surprise before bursting into laughter.


    "Ludwig? As the queen''s consort? No, Your Highness, perish the thought. The boy would be hopelessly out of his depth."


    Astrid''s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. She had jumped to conclusions too quickly.


    "My apologies, Duke Capone. I was hasty in my assumption. Lately, so many have approached me with proposals¡­" She trailed off, her voice tinged with regret.


    The duke waved off her apology and guided her to a bench in the garden.


    "No need to apologize. To be clear, I am here about a proposal¡ªbut not one involving my grandson."


    Astrid tilted her head in confusion. If not Ludwig, then who?


    The duke continued in a measured tone. "Tell me, Your Highness, what do you know of Count Michael?"


    At the mention of Michael, Astrid''s face turned crimson. She looked straight ahead, avoiding the duke''s gaze, as her heart raced.


    "Count Michael¡­ You mean the war hero? I met him once at a banquet. It was a remarkable event, with his dragon and sphinx in attendance."


    The duke''s expression brightened. If she had already met Michael, his task would be much easier.


    "Indeed. He''s a fine young man, exceptionally capable. You''re aware of his contributions to the war effort, of course."


    Astrid nodded silently, memories of her nightly prayers for Michael''s safety flooding her mind.


    "His Majesty is currently deliberating on what reward would be fitting for Count Michael," the duke explained. "Given the titles and lands he''s already received, he''s practically a margrave. And his potential for further achievements is limitless."


    Pausing, the duke observed Astrid''s reaction. Thankfully, she showed no signs of resistance.


    "That being said," he continued, "there''s a need to secure his loyalty. Do you understand what I mean?"


    The duke''s reasoning was pragmatic: tying Michael to the royal family would strengthen the kingdom''s position. However, he was unaware of Astrid''s personal feelings for the count. sea??h th§× NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Suppressing her excitement, Astrid nodded slowly. "Yes¡­ I see your point."


    Her voice faltered as she tried to frame her next words. Proposing her own marriage felt improper, even as the Crown Princess.


    The duke, sensing her hesitation, took the opportunity to broach the topic directly.


    "As the future queen, would you consider Count Michael as your consort? Of course, this depends on his willingness. I''m speaking with you first to gauge your thoughts before presenting the matter to His Majesty."


    Astrid''s heart leapt, and she struggled to contain her elation. Was it possible that Michael felt the same?


    Pressing a hand to her chest to calm her pounding heart, she asked softly, "Has Count Michael¡­ agreed to this match?"


    The seconds stretched into an eternity as she awaited the duke''s reply. Finally, he nodded.


    "Count Michael has expressed his willingness to accept the proposal. He even entrusted me with a letter for you, should you wish to read it before deciding."


    Astrid took the letter with trembling hands, her heart racing as she noticed the faint rose emblem on the envelope. Knowing that Michael had touched it made her blush even deeper.


    The duke, seeing her reaction, felt confident the match would succeed.


    After a long moment, Astrid spoke, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions within her.


    "For the good of the kingdom, we must honor the contributions of a war hero. I will accept the proposal. Please convey my decision to my father."


    As early summer approached, the royal garden was adorned with a radiant glow. Verdant leaves shimmered with sunlight, creating a rippling sea of green, while vibrant flowers bloomed in abundance. The fragrant aroma of roses filled the air, and their red and white petals drifted wistfully in the breeze.


    After concluding his conversation with Crown Princess Astrid, Duke Capone immediately sought out Charles V. Upon entering the king''s reception room, he saw Charles V standing by the window, gazing out at the scenery. The king''s eyes were somber, a reflection of the grief he still bore from the tragic death of his son, Crown Prince Randolph.


    Suppressing the sympathy that welled within him, Duke Capone greeted his old friend. "Aren''t the roses beautiful?"


    Charles V turned to face the duke, a faint smile forming on his lips. Yet behind that smile lingered an indelible sorrow. With a deep sigh, the king nodded. "Welcome, Duke Capone. People vanish so quickly, but the flowers bloom just as they always have."

 Chapter 224 - 224 The Opposite Approach

    His voice carried the weight of a father''s heartbreak. Duke Capone, seeking to uplift the king, responded in an energetic tone. "Perhaps it''s nature''s way of telling us to let time carry our burdens. Surely, Crown Prince Randolph would be praying for peace as he watches from above."


    Charles V offered a thin smile in return, though the grief in his expression was far from gone. "Ha¡­ I suppose you''re right. That foolish boy¡­ I know I should let go, but it''s easier said than done."


    The king fell silent, his gaze returning to the view outside. After a moment of contemplation, he turned back, his expression softening into a rare, serene smile. "Still, I''m relieved that Astrid has adapted far better than I had expected."


    The Crown Princess''s resilience was indeed a blessing. Duke Capone offered his heartfelt praise. "It is a great fortune for the kingdom, Your Majesty."


    Inviting the duke to sit, Charles V summoned a servant to bring tea and light refreshments. The servant, long experienced in royal service, carefully placed a prepared tea set alongside a plate of seasonal fruits. Charles V raised his teacup and spoke.


    "There was something I wanted to ask, and I''m glad you''re here." After a pause, the king broached the subject. "There''s a rumor spreading from the Orlando Fortress that the Emperor of Pamir has discovered a method to extend his life. How credible is this?"


    Duke Capone was taken aback. He hadn''t anticipated that even Charles V would be influenced by such rumors, which had been deliberately spread by Michael. Hesitant, he replied cautiously, "Well¡­ It''s true that the Emperor of Pamir has been using a method to extend his lifespan, but it''s said to be so heinous that ordinary people couldn''t even consider attempting it."


    The king sighed deeply, shaking his head. "As I thought. Then, is there a chance that those who learn the truth later might retaliate against us?"


    Duke Capone''s lips curved into a knowing smile. "Unlikely. We''ve already reached an agreement with the Crown Prince of Pamir. In exchange for aiding his ascension to the throne, we''ve secured a non-aggression pact."


    Charles V''s expression brightened with renewed hope. A non-aggression pact¡ªsuch an achievement was monumental. It was a triumph that even his ancestors had failed to secure, and as king, there could be no greater joy.


    "That''s fortunate," Charles V remarked. "I imagine even they must suspect this might be a ploy to weaken them."


    The duke nodded, sipping his tea. The faint aroma of the tea filled the room, enhancing the serene atmosphere. "Indeed. Yet, wouldn''t they still be willing to take even the smallest chance to extend their lives?"


    The king, teacup in hand, closed his eyes and let out a sigh. "Ah¡­ I can understand their desperation. It must feel as if the truth of the heavens is just out of reach. Grasping at straws, they seek even the faintest hope."


    Duke Capone nodded in agreement. While he and the king had long laid down their swords, he could empathize with the relentless pursuit of longevity and enlightenment by those unwilling to accept the passage of time.


    "That''s true," the duke said. "Perhaps among the countless methods the Emperor claims to have gathered, there might indeed be one that extends life or elevates the soul. It''s not entirely a losing endeavor for them."


    The peaceful atmosphere lingered until Charles V, having finished his tea and fruit, broached a more serious topic. "By the way¡­ the queen has suggested marrying Astrid to someone from her family. What are your thoughts?" S§×arch* The Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    At last, the conversation turned to what Duke Capone had been waiting for. It was a fortuitous opening, sparing him the trouble of initiating the subject. After a moment of feigned contemplation, he shook his head firmly.


    "That would not be wise, Your Majesty. While the queen''s desire to strengthen ties with her family is understandable, it would bring no benefit to the kingdom."


    Charles V, though deeply affectionate toward the queen, was far from naive in political matters. He was, in fact, astutely pragmatic. Hearing the duke''s response, he nodded, as if it echoed his own thoughts. "True. I''ve told the queen as much repeatedly. Then, who do you suggest? When Randolph was alive, both the queen and I had considered the Emperor of Celeste."


    Had Randolph survived, a non-aggression pact with the Pamir Empire might have made a marriage alliance with the Celeste Empire plausible. But with Astrid now standing alone, such an arrangement would be tantamount to surrendering the kingdom.


    "I assume that idea has since been abandoned?" the duke ventured. Charles V sighed. "Of course. Though the queen remains fixated on the notion¡­ it''s absurd. If only there were someone capable, yet without hunger for power¡­"


    After a pause, Duke Capone spoke, "Perhaps it''s worth considering the opposite approach."


    Charles V''s interest was piqued. "The opposite approach? What do you mean?"


    "No matter who is chosen, it''s unlikely they''ll be content merely as the queen''s consort. Even if they hide it at first, power inevitably tempts. That''s simply its nature."


    Duke Capone paused, observing the king''s reaction. Charles V nodded in agreement, signaling for him to continue.


    Duke Capone proposed his idea, his tone deliberate and calm. "Rather than taking unnecessary risks, why not choose someone currently on the rise¡ªsomeone who is gaining power and influence as Astrid''s consort? That way, you could both rein in his ambitions and use him to pursue territorial expansion. Whatever else may be said about him, his abilities are undeniably exceptional."


    Charles V quickly caught on to the duke''s implications and nodded slowly. "You''re referring to Count Michael, I presume. I''ve been racking my brain trying to decide what kind of reward to bestow upon him."


    The duke immediately affirmed, "Exactly, Your Majesty. Consider the current state of the continent, where many powerful individuals have gathered, thanks to Count Michael''s strategies. He is sure to accomplish even greater feats in the future."

 Chapter 225 - 225 The Kingdoms Interests.

    Charles V''s expression grew increasingly grave. Even based on Michael''s current contributions, it seemed inevitable that his rank would need to be elevated. And if he continued to achieve more, how far would his influence reach? The king even contemplated the possibility of granting him the title of Grand Duke, though the thought troubled him. After all, Michael''s lands lay near the border, a strategic location fraught with complications.


    The king realized that Michael might already have ties with Ellonia and possibly secret agreements with the Crown Prince of Pamir. If so, it meant the man could potentially establish a duchy¡ªor even an independent state.


    "That''s a serious matter," Charles V muttered. "So, what exactly is your suggestion?"


    Maintaining a serious demeanor, Duke Capone replied, "For these reasons, I believe Crown Princess Astrid should take Count Michael as her consort."


    The king rested his chin on his hand and fell silent, his thoughts heavy. Warm early summer sunlight streamed into the reception room, illuminating the peaceful rose garden outside. Yet Charles V''s expression was anything but serene. Meanwhile, Duke Capone kept a composed exterior, though his fingers betrayed his tension as they fidgeted with his teacup.


    If a marriage between Astrid and Michael were to come to fruition, it would undoubtedly have far-reaching consequences for the kingdom. Charles V exhaled deeply as he began to organize his thoughts.


    "Sending Astrid to Count Michael¡­" he murmured, pausing to close his eyes. He understood all too well that this decision would touch upon the very survival of the kingdom.


    The suggestion reminded Charles V of the queen''s earlier proposal to marry Astrid to her family member¡ªa match clearly driven by personal gain rather than the kingdom''s welfare. While the queen''s nephew was an easygoing boy, Count Michael was a man of extraordinary military talent and strategic acumen. Such a man, Charles V pondered, would never be content to remain merely the queen''s consort.


    Yet royal marriages were rarely, if ever, about personal happiness. Astrid, however, was different. Unlike himself, who had been able to keep the queen and her family in check, Astrid might not have the same leverage.


    As he wrestled with these thoughts, Duke Capone broke the silence. "Your Majesty, in times like these, it is crucial to prioritize the kingdom''s interests. If Count Michael were to join the royal family, his accomplishments would become those of the crown. And let us not forget the potential children from such a union."


    Charles V opened his eyes, his attention suddenly sharpened. Of course. That much was undeniable. If Count Michael became his son-in-law, the kingdom''s power would undoubtedly grow stronger.


    "You''re right," Charles V conceded. "No matter who becomes Astrid''s consort, the expansion of their influence is inevitable. If that''s the case, it''s better to entrust the role to someone capable."


    And with such an alliance, the royal bloodline would only become stronger. Charles V swallowed the unspoken thought. The queen''s beauty had been a source of great satisfaction, but her intellect¡­ remembering Randolph''s tragic death only solidified his resolve.


    Duke Capone carefully observed the king''s reaction. He sensed that Charles V both trusted and remained wary of Michael''s capabilities. This, however, was only natural for a king who was considering entrusting his daughter¡ªand the kingdom''s future¡ªto such a man.


    "Your Majesty, if I may speak freely, my observations of Count Michael have revealed him to be a man of exceptional character," Capone ventured.


    Charles V turned his gaze back to the rose garden outside. Its beauty was unchanging, but the king''s thoughts remained heavy. After a long silence, he nodded slightly. "If you believe that, it must be true. Marrying Astrid to Count Michael could help stabilize the borders."


    Having made up his mind, Charles V called for a servant and quietly issued an order. "Bring Princess Astrid here. I must hear her thoughts on this proposal."


    The reception room, bathed in the stillness of early summer, awaited the weight of a king''s decision.


    Meanwhile, back at Orlando Fortress, Michael returned to find an assortment of elderly individuals awaiting him. Their presence was a clear sign that his efforts to spread his reputation had borne fruit. Perched on his shoulder, his feline companion, Miaomiao, muttered dryly.


    [Goodness¡­ every single old geezer on the continent must have come. If they all attack at once, neither I nor Marcus will stand a chance.] Sear?h the NovelFire.net* website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Startled, Marcus turned his long neck to face her. [Sister, is that true? Are those frail elders really that strong?]


    Miaomiao nonchalantly licked her paw before replying, [Of course someone as simple-minded as you wouldn''t sense their power. You''d need to be as sharp as I am to notice.]


    Michael chuckled at their banter, shrugging. "Don''t worry, Marcus. You won''t have to fight them all at once."


    As Michael landed lightly in the fortress''s courtyard, Anita and Ismahal descended cautiously behind him, still unsteady in flight. They gripped their saddle straps so tightly that their hands ached.


    "Ah, so you''re the famed young Count Michael?" one elderly man bellowed. "You look so pale and feeble. They say you''re a master archer?"


    "Hmm," another chimed in. "Are you as skilled with a sword as with a bow? If so, I''d like to test you."


    "Look at him! So handsome," an elderly woman exclaimed. "He reminds me of my third husband."


    "Third husband? He''s been dead for fifty years!" a gruff old woman retorted.


    "He was the most handsome, though! That''s why I''m comparing him, you crazy hag!" The two bickered loudly, and chaos erupted.


    Michael sighed, steeling himself as he addressed the gathered crowd. "Thank you all for coming. Have you registered in the order of your arrival?"


    A burly old man, wielding a massive greatsword, shouted back, "Why do we need to register in order? Does arriving first give us an advantage?"


    Just as he expected, they were unruly and competitive. To bring this group under control, Michael knew he would have to stoke their desire to win. Now was the time to showcase the results of his meticulous preparation.

 Chapter 226 - 226 Battling Legends

    Michael scanned the gathered faces slowly. The early summer sun struck the cold gray stone walls of the fortress, spilling into the courtyard. The oppressive midday heat hung in the air, sharpening the tension that gripped the assembly.


    Orlando Fortress, steeped in the blood and history of countless battles, stood as a symbol of war and resilience. Beneath its gray walls, climbing roses bloomed brightly, veiling the scars of past conflicts. But today, even their vibrant beauty couldn''t pierce the heavy atmosphere.


    This place, once home to heroes who had led armies to victory, now hosted retired warriors radiating formidable energy. As their attention fixed on him, Michael shrugged with deliberate nonchalance, a provocative gesture that sent ripples of unease through the crowd.


    "Since everyone here has thrived in different times and circumstances, it''s impossible to rank you purely by strength," he announced. "The only fair way is to assign positions based on the order of arrival. The earlier you arrived, the closer to the front you''ll be placed."


    For a moment, silence fell over the crowd. Then, as expected, complaints erupted from all sides. Heated faces flushed red, eyes flashing with irritation. The mingling of their auras created a palpable tension in the air. These were individuals who had gathered here with purpose, and for them, being positioned at the front was more than a matter of honor¡ªit was a chance to grasp the Emperor of Pamir''s fabled secret and prove their strength once more.


    Long-suppressed ambitions flared within their chests.


    A red-haired veteran knight stepped forward, roughly wiping the sweat from his brow as he glared at Michael. "What nonsense is that? If we''re unsure who''s strongest, we should settle it with a fight."


    Others nodded in agreement, their eyes gleaming with pride and confidence in their own abilities.


    Just as planned. A faint smirk tugged at the corners of Michael''s mouth. These legendary warriors, each from different eras and regions, were brimming with pride and a burning sense of honor. Their collective fervor only heightened the intensity of the moment.


    Michael surveyed the crowd leisurely before speaking again. "In that case¡­ do you all agree that the strongest among you should receive the most benefit?"


    The gathered warriors turned their piercing gazes toward him. A soft breeze brushed against their faces, carrying with it the scent of the roses from the fortress walls. Weapons that had long rested in their owners'' hands came alive once more. Their eyes gleamed with a renewed hunger for competition.


    When was the last time they had felt this thrill? Though their backgrounds, weapons, and styles differed, one thing united them: their unwavering belief that they were the strongest.


    Inevitably, chaos erupted.


    The Clash of Legends


    The courtyard became a whirlwind of motion.


    "Come on, all of you! I''ll take you all on!" bellowed the red-haired knight as he unsheathed his sword. Spurred by his cry, the other warriors drew their weapons, and the courtyard roared with life. The crackling tension shattered as power collided with power, and the battle began.


    The red-haired knight, his sword glinting sharply, charged toward a nearby warrior. "Ah, so it''s you! The one who boasted that I wasn''t even worthy of being your opponent!"


    "Hah! You talk too much. I could defeat you with my toes," the warrior sneered.


    The knight''s sword sliced through the air in a sharp arc. The other man ducked swiftly, rolling to the side to evade the blow.


    "Rolling around like a worm, are you?" the knight growled.


    "It''s called strategic evasion, you brute!" came the retort. S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Enraged, the knight resumed his attack without hesitation. Sparks flew as their blades clashed, their heated battle igniting the air around them.


    Nearby, a middle-aged knight armed with a shield and spear faced off against two opponents. He blocked an axe strike with his shield, then deftly thrust his spear through a narrow opening in his adversary''s defense. The spearhead grazed the warrior''s armor, drawing a painful groan as the man stumbled back.


    But the respite was short-lived. The fallen man''s twin brother stepped in, slamming his weapon against the shield with enough force to make the knight stagger. Steeling himself against the impact, the knight held his ground, but sweat trickled down his brow as the twin''s follow-up attack bore down on him.


    Elsewhere, a dual-wielding swordsman moved with lightning speed, exploiting gaps in his opponent''s defense. His blades traced shimmering arcs through the air, one narrowly missing the agile warrior who managed to leap over the sword and somersault toward the swordsman''s head. The swordsman twisted his body just in time to dodge the attack, lowering himself to target his opponent''s legs as they landed. The agile warrior evaded again, but not without the second blade grazing his arm.


    Above the courtyard, soldiers atop the fortress walls cheered and gasped at the spectacle. Magicians, forewarned by Michael, worked tirelessly to shield the onlookers with protective spells. Sweat poured from their faces as they cast barrier after barrier, but their eyes gleamed with excitement. Where else could anyone witness such a clash of legends?


    On another side of the field, a warrior wielding a massive axe clashed with a heavily armored knight. The axe wielder brought his weapon down in a powerful swing aimed at the knight''s head. The knight ducked swiftly, countering with a thrust of his sword. The blade grazed the axe wielder''s arm, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on. His shoulders swelled, black fur spreading across his back as he drew upon ancestral strength.


    In the center of the courtyard, an elderly white-haired mage raised her staff and sneered. "Think you can beat a mage in a brawl? Let''s see you try."


    Chanting an incantation in an ancient tongue, she summoned lightning bolts that streaked from the clear sky. The air filled with the crackling sound of electricity and the deafening roar of thunder as the bolts struck the warriors below.


    But these were no ordinary fighters¡ªthey were legends. They quickly adapted, using shields to deflect the bolts, swords to ground the energy, and magic barriers to block the attacks. Some even endured the strikes head-on, their indomitable wills pushing them forward.

 Chapter 227 - 227 Gang Up

    Frustrated, the white-haired mage bit her finger, letting her blood flow onto her staff. The crimson liquid glowed as it seeped into the wood, and the lightning bolts intensified, striking with greater ferocity.


    Several warriors began to falter, unable to withstand the relentless barrage. But as the mage reveled silently in her triumph, a sharp hand chop struck the back of her neck. Her eyes widened in shock as she staggered forward and collapsed. The storm of lightning subsided instantly.


    From the shadows emerged a woman with short black hair, her slender figure exuding a quiet yet deadly grace.


    Despite her long retirement, the black-haired woman''s beauty and figure remained striking. Dusting her hands as if nothing had happened, she glanced at the fallen mage at her feet. "Rebecca, your downfall has always been your carelessness."


    With the lightning dissipated, the courtyard came alive again as the fighting resumed with renewed vigor. The gathered warriors unleashed their pent-up energy, wielding their weapons with precision and agility, parrying, dodging, and countering their opponents'' attacks.


    Blades honed to razor-sharp edges sought weak points in armor, and spears moved with fluid arcs, cutting through the air. Fierce battle cries reverberated, mingling with the clash of metal. The retired legends, who had honed their skills even in the years after their prime, displayed their prowess with unapologetic confidence.


    The clamor of steel rang out across the battlefield as the fighters poured their strength into the fray. They pushed, pulled, and clashed, weapons striking with relentless intensity. Through it all, they smiled¡ªa testament to the long-forgotten thrill of battle rekindled. The air was charged with the blazing competitiveness and camaraderie of warriors reliving their glory days.


    From atop the fortress walls, soldiers looked on in awe. It felt like watching a moment from the annals of history come to life. The intensity of the fight stirred their hearts with a mix of admiration and humility. Below, the combat unfolded like a spectacle of monstrous proportions, with blades and axes colliding and sparks flying in all directions.


    Even with the protective spells cast by the fortress magicians, the shockwaves from the battle were palpable. A soldier grimaced and muttered, "Wow¡­ if we stepped into that, we''d be flattened in seconds."


    Hearing this, the knights behind him nodded solemnly. Even seasoned warriors felt their spines stiffen under the sheer weight of the ongoing fight. One of the elder knights beside them added quietly, "It''s not just you, lad. Even knights like us would be crushed instantly."


    The soldiers fell silent, their breaths hitching at the realization. The knights themselves watched the chaos below with contemplative expressions. Despite their own dedication to honing their skills, the gulf between them and the legends battling in the courtyard was insurmountable.


    "Perhaps it''s a matter of talent," one knight murmured, breaking the heavy silence. "Or maybe we simply haven''t worked hard enough."


    Another knight shook his head and replied, "These are the warriors who once defined their eras. It''s not fair to compare ourselves to them."


    A younger knight chimed in with a determined expression, "Exactly. We''ve still got plenty to learn and grow from. Our time hasn''t come yet, that''s all. Someday, we''ll be the ones standing there."


    Their budding hope was promptly dashed when another knight spoke up. "¡­Uh, about that. Count Michael is participating in the fight too. How old is he again?"


    A heavy silence fell over the group as they processed this inconvenient truth. Michael''s youth, contrasted with his overwhelming prowess, left them exchanging awkward glances. The unspoken reality hung in the air, leaving the atmosphere atop the walls even heavier.


    The Turning Point


    The fierce melee in the courtyard caused the already stifling summer air to grow hotter. As nearly half of the participants collapsed, no longer able to fight, Michael decided it was time to act. He leapt into the air with ease, drawing the attention of those still standing.


    Several warriors who had previously targeted him groaned in defeat, sprawled on the ground. "Hah¡­ underestimated the kid. His skills are sharper than I thought," muttered an old, white-haired knight. Nearby, the mage he had defeated grumbled, "Who called him an archer? The guy wields a sword like it''s an extension of his arm. Did he eat some legendary herb or something?"


    Ignoring their complaints, Michael landed gracefully on Marcus, his dragon, as it swooped in. The remaining combatants paused their battles, startled by the massive shadow cast over the courtyard.


    A thunderous roar echoed from the sky as Marcus ascended. The warriors below looked up, stunned, at the sight of Michael standing atop the dragon without even securing himself with a saddle. His commanding figure, silhouetted against the sky, exuded the aura of a hero straight out of legend.


    The oppressive presence of the Class-1 magical beast froze the warriors momentarily. However, their pride as legends was not so easily quelled. One man pointed a finger at Michael and shouted, "Hey! Riding a dragon into battle is cheating!"


    The others, momentarily cowed by Marcus''s might, quickly joined the chorus of complaints.


    "Yeah, come on! Fight fair!" S~ea??h the N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Seriously? How''s anyone supposed to compete without a dragon?"


    Michael maintained his calm smile as he replied, "Are you saying Marcus wouldn''t be needed when I face the Emperor? If that''s the case, I''ll dismount and take you on directly."


    The complaints died down. They knew better than to dismiss the strategic importance of a dragon. Many of them had come to this gathering precisely because of rumors that Michael had both a dragon and a sphinx at his command.


    Among the crowd, some voices began calling for reason. "Hold on now! If any of us had a magical beast like that, we''d use it too. Let''s stop whining and focus on the bigger picture. If we all combine our strength, we can take on both the dragon and the sphinx."


    "Right! A couple of Class-1 magical beasts are nothing if we work together."


    "Hey, kid! Don''t complain if we gang up on you. It''s fair game."

 Chapter 228 - 228 Legendary Fight

    Michael responded with a quiet, knowing smile. The warriors, who had momentarily been thrown off by the dragon''s presence, regained their confidence. After all, these were individuals who had once shaken the very foundations of the continent. While a one on one battle against a Class-1 beast might be daunting, they believed that together, they could triumph.


    Watching from near the fortress walls, Miaomiao''s eyes gleamed dangerously at the mention of being "hunted." The feline flew over, her presence adding to the tension. Michael, maintaining his composure, plucked an arrow from his quiver and prepared his next move.


    "It''s time they learn what it feels like to be hunted," he said, his voice cold yet resolute. "Marcus, Miaomiao¡ªlet''s show them."


    The first arrow sliced through the sky, heading straight for the center of the courtyard. It moved as though alive, the light radiating from its tip blindingly intense. All those watching from the fortress walls held their breath, their eyes locked on the arrow''s path.


    The gathered warriors immediately erected barriers, knowing they couldn''t afford to take a direct hit. The energy emanating from the arrow was pure and immense, as if it contained the very essence of the sun. When the arrow struck the ground, it exploded into a radiant burst of light, engulfing the courtyard.


    The air rippled with searing heat, and the soil and gravel were obliterated, scattering like ash. The explosion unleashed waves of light that blanketed the area, heating the surrounding atmosphere and setting the air ablaze. The warriors had no choice but to shield their eyes from the overwhelming brilliance.


    Despite the sheer magnitude of the attack, Michael''s expression remained unchanged. From the fortress walls, soldiers and knights erupted into cheers for their commander, a rising star among the modern era''s warriors. Watching the legendary fighters scatter in the wake of his assault filled their hearts with awe. Mounted atop Marcus, his dragon, Michael stood amidst the light like a hero of a new age.


    Scanning the scattered fighters below, Michael raised his bow once more. A small light formed at his fingertips, traveling along his wrist and arm before coalescing at the tip of another arrow. This second arrow radiated power akin to the sun, sending vibrations through the air as it was released.


    The arrow soared skyward before splitting into multiple fragments, each veering toward the warriors who had yet to recover from the first blast. While these fragments lacked the concentrated force of the initial arrow, they were still powerful enough to challenge even the strongest among them.


    These arrows, infused with the energy Michael had refined through his training and the ancient weapon he acquired from a forgotten temple, unleashed tremendous destructive force. Despite their efforts to block or evade, the targeted fighters failed. Waves of heat and light erupted from the impact, sending dust billowing into the air like a thick fog.


    The lingering dust revealed charred and groaning figures scattered across the battlefield. Those who had been classified as defeated were gathered near the fortress walls by their peers, who had chosen to sit out and analyze the battle. They whispered among themselves, relieved not to have faced Michael directly, while placing bets on who might emerge victorious.


    All eyes remained fixed on Michael. Amidst their laughter and quiet banter, there was an undercurrent of tension. One knight, his gaze skeptical, muttered, "That bow¡­ it''s no ordinary weapon. It must be of ancient origin."


    His eyes betrayed a hint of greed.


    "Even so," another warrior interjected with a dismissive snort, "wielding such power isn''t something anyone can do. Who here doesn''t own a relic from the past? Yet none of us can match that." S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The red haired veteran knight folded his arms, letting out a low whistle of admiration. "Ha! The kid''s impressive. Sure, the bow is remarkable, but he''s channeling power directly into the arrows."


    A gray haired warrior narrowed his eyes, disagreeing. "It''s more than that. He''s compressing energy into the arrow and releasing it in a controlled explosion."


    "What difference does it make, you old fool? It''s the same thing!" retorted the red haired knight, pointing an accusatory finger.


    Their bickering drew laughter from the surrounding group. Age hadn''t tempered their personalities. These warriors, once titans of their time, now watched a new hero emerge, their expressions tinged with awe.


    "Hmph, I suppose most of us only worried about his dragon and sphinx," one of them remarked quietly. The others nodded, their smiles tinged with a bittersweet recognition of Michael''s prowess.


    "Ah, so you''re the ones he bested," someone teased loudly, earning glares from the defeated warriors.


    "Nobody said we were beaten!" one of them snapped, his voice rising before he sighed and slumped his shoulders in resignation. "Still¡­ sometimes, you have to know when to bow out. We all climbed over others to get where we are, after all."


    Though their words carried the sting of defeat, they laughed to lighten their spirits. What had happened, happened. Another defeated warrior, kicking at the dirt with the tip of his boot, muttered, "Well, he''s the real deal. I guess I should be glad he didn''t use that bow against me."


    His casual remark drew a nod and a long sigh from another. "No kidding. If he''d used the bow, we wouldn''t have even had the chance to draw our swords before it was over."


    "Even putting up a barrier wouldn''t have been fast enough. Time spares no one, I suppose."


    A brief silence settled over them, their faces etched with the quiet understanding that only warriors of their caliber could share. Even among the strongest, there was always someone stronger.


    The air over the courtyard grew heavy. The midday sun blazed through the clouds, its light spilling over the land. Beyond the fortress, the grass on the surrounding plains swayed gently in the breeze, a stark contrast to the scorched battlefield. The dense forest beyond the plains stretched into the horizon, its mysterious allure catching Michael''s eye.

 Chapter 229 - 229 Arent You Glad We Stayed Out Of It?

    From the skies, the vast forest always drew his gaze. Its tranquil, unyielding presence inspired a sense of freedom within him. As if sharing his feelings, Marcus let out a thunderous roar that split the air.


    As Michael and Marcus reveled in the moment, a colossal shadow rose to meet them. Its source was Aaron, one of the remaining warriors, astride the behemoth he had recently captured. Once a terror of the Drago Mountains, the massive beast exuded raw strength. Its earth-toned hide glistened in the sunlight, and its massive wings cast an imposing shadow over the battlefield as they unfurled.


    The Behemoth flapped its massive wings, rising slowly into the air. Its clawed appendages shimmered faintly in the summer sunlight, emanating a strange combination of sacred majesty and brutal power.


    Following Aaron and his Behemoth, other warriors mounted on flying beasts also ascended. The sky above the fortress became a chaotic tapestry of shimmering feathers and glinting scales. The magical beasts roared and howled, circling Marcus as if reenacting an ancient myth.


    Watching the scene unfold, the soldiers atop the fortress walls gasped in apprehension.


    "Can Count Michael really handle all those beasts?" one murmured.


    The fear spread like wildfire among them. The sheer number of magical beasts seemed poised to overwhelm Marcus.


    Behind the airborne warriors, Faust and his magicians prepared their spells. Low incantations spilled from their lips, and magical energy sparked at their fingertips. At the center, Faust orchestrated a massive magic circle inscribed with ancient runes, its core blazing with concentrated power. Their strategy was straightforward: exploit the dragon''s vulnerable underbelly to bring it crashing down.


    The Behemoth and other beasts would focus their attacks on Marcus''s underbelly while Faust and the magicians unleashed a devastating barrage from the ground. The magic circle radiated an intimidating force, ready to unleash its stored energy.


    From their vantage point, soldiers clenched their fists nervously, their eyes darting between the swirling skies and the magicians below.


    However, amidst the chaos, Aaron found himself frozen mid-air, his Behemoth trembling beneath him. While the other magical beasts roared and charged toward Marcus, the Behemoth whined and shifted uneasily. Its enormous body trembled as its tail coiled tightly beneath it, a picture of childlike fear.


    Aaron tried to maintain his composure, speaking to the creature in a soothing tone.


    "Come now, Behemoth. Show them your strength."


    But the Behemoth remained paralyzed, groaning softly. Its massive eyes darted nervously, and it muttered under its breath:


    [Master, I''ve been trying to tell you¡­ this isn''t right. I''m already scared out of my fur facing one dragon, but now there''s also a sphinx? This is beyond our contract''s terms.]


    Aaron''s face twisted in frustration. While the other warriors fearlessly charged their lesser-ranked beasts into battle, his Class-3 magical beast refused to budge.


    Veins bulged on his forehead as he shouted angrily, "What nonsense is this? Even beasts ranked far below you are fighting bravely. Have some pride!"


    The Behemoth, however, was undeterred, swishing its tail irritably as it muttered back, [Those other beasts were raised by humans, weren''t they? They''ve probably bonded deeply with their masters and feel compelled to protect them. You and I, though¡­ well, let''s just say our relationship is¡­ complicated.]


    The Behemoth let out a small, derisive snort, leaving Aaron momentarily speechless.


    He had carefully chosen a magical beast renowned for both its intellect and power, but now he regretted his decision. Rubbing his temples in frustration, he sighed deeply.


    "You do realize that staying frozen here won''t make the dragon any less likely to target you, right?"


    The Behemoth flinched at the comment but remained unmoving. The rank disparity between magical creatures was a fundamental law etched into their instincts. The presence of Marcus, a Class-1 dragon, and Miaomiao, a sphinx, was enough to paralyze the Behemoth with fear.


    [Master, creatures like me who grew up in the wild can''t simply ignore rank disparities. It''s ingrained in our bloodline,] the Behemoth muttered, its voice trembling.


    Aaron sighed, resigned to his fate. Despite being a Class-3 knight, he couldn''t control his own Class-3 beast. Meanwhile, the young Michael had somehow secured the loyalty of not one but two Class-1 magical creatures.


    Meanwhile, Marcus and Miaomiao reveled in the chaos of the battle, striking down enemies left and right. Magical beasts struck by Miaomiao''s claws or Marcus''s wings let out pitiful cries as they were hurled from the battlefield.


    A few knights attempted to imbue their swords with magic to launch counterattacks, but their efforts were futile. Michael, perched atop Marcus, deflected each assault with ease.


    Whenever an opponent retreated from Marcus''s defenses, Miaomiao''s razor-sharp claws were there to meet them. The sphinx''s vengeful strikes sent magical beasts and warriors scattering in terror.


    Unable to endure the spectacle any longer, Faust extended his arms, deciding to act. He had hoped to wait until Marcus was brought down to ground level, but the situation demanded otherwise.


    Lightning, far stronger than any the white-haired mage had conjured earlier, surged from Faust''s fingertips. The bolts shot toward Marcus, Michael, and Miaomiao with terrifying speed.


    Onlookers atop the fortress walls closed their eyes, unable to bear watching what they thought would be the end. The warriors on the ground, confident in their victory, gripped their weapons tightly.


    But then, Michael smiled.


    The sky darkened abruptly, and a colossal bolt of lightning descended from above, dwarfing Faust''s magic. The incoming lightning, though formidable, was consumed entirely by the massive strike summoned by Michael.


    The devastating bolt shattered Faust''s attack and illuminated the battlefield with blinding light. Thunder roared in its wake, shaking the earth and leaving the warriors speechless.


    The hands that had gripped weapons with confidence now trembled and fell slack. S§×arch* The N?velFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    As the storm''s aftermath settled, a few raindrops began to fall. The rain carried residual lightning that crackled and spread across the battlefield, leaving warriors and beasts alike writhing in panic.


    From atop Marcus, Michael surveyed the chaos, with Miaomiao perched regally beside him. Their presence was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the trembling figures below.


    Watching this, the Behemoth whispered softly to Aaron:


    [Aren''t you glad we stayed out of it?]

 Chapter 230 - 230 Gaining Command

    After the barrage of lightning subsided, the courtyard of the fortress fell into a heavy silence. The electric brilliance that had dominated the scene gradually faded, leaving behind a somber atmosphere. Heavy raindrops began to fall from the ashen sky, soaking the battlefield with a chilling dampness.


    The remnants of the battle, once etched into the ground by the lightning''s ferocity, were now washed away by the rain, leaving behind only muddy earth and scattered debris. The soldiers stationed on the fortress walls peered anxiously at the sky, where flashes of lightning still flickered intermittently among the dark clouds. The faint remnants of electricity shimmering in the air sent chills down their spines.


    Instinctively, their gazes shifted from the ominous heavens to the courtyard below. Despite enduring the relentless lightning, the fallen warriors were still alive, groaning in pain. It was a testament to their resilience, built over years of legendary battles and hard-won triumphs.


    These once-mighty figures now lay sprawled across the wet ground, their armor glistening with rain. The soldiers, awestruck, couldn''t help but admire them even in their defeat. That admiration, however, soon turned to reverence for the man still standing tall above them¡ªMichael, atop his dragon Marcus, with Miaomiao by his side.


    The sheer dominance of Michael''s presence caused one soldier to flinch, subconsciously rubbing his arm as though the chill of the rain had seeped into his very skin. In a hushed tone, he asked his comrade, "Do you think anyone died?"


    His voice carried a mix of reverence and unease. The comrade, shifting his gaze between the fallen warriors and Michael, murmured, "He must have held back. That¡­ that was unbelievable. We''ll probably never see anything like this again."


    The soldiers turned their eyes back to the courtyard. The dark storm clouds that had loomed ominously began to dissipate, and sunlight started to pierce through. The persistent drizzle tapered off into sporadic drops, and faint groans echoed across the field as the defeated warriors began to stir.


    Among them, Faust lay collapsed on the wet ground, his body slack as he absorbed the sting of defeat. Muddy water trickled down his cheek, and rain dripped steadily from his soaked hair. With a deep sigh, he muttered under his breath, "So¡­ he redirected our lightning using the sphinx''s power?"


    As he slowly pulled himself upright, Faust surveyed the scene with a dazed expression. Though he had been the one to command the attack, the results defied his understanding. The notion that Michael had absorbed Babaru''s abilities to control the weather was beyond his wildest imagination.


    Letting his head droop, Faust marveled at the flawless execution of such overwhelming power. Even with the aid of a Class-1 dragon and sphinx, Michael''s control was masterful.


    "He commands both a dragon and a sphinx¡­ of course he wouldn''t be ordinary," Faust thought, closing his eyes with a resigned sigh.


    A triumphant roar from Marcus echoed behind him, followed by Michael''s commanding voice:


    "So, do you all accept the results?"


    Michael''s words reverberated through the fortress, shaking the pride of the defeated warriors still lying in the courtyard. Groans of frustration and resignation grew louder. The self-assurance and pride they had forged through countless battles had crumbled in an instant.


    Gathered in small groups, the fallen warriors tried to console each other. S§×arch* The ¦Çov§×lFire .net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Come now, everyone. Let''s face it¡ªtimes have changed," one of them said, extending a hand to help another stand. Their camaraderie carried a sense of shared understanding and mutual respect.


    Watching them, Michael''s face softened into a smile. Despite his victory, he held deep respect for these legendary warriors. They were, after all, the comrades who would soon stand with him against the Emperor. Masking his smile with a composed expression, Michael addressed them with courtesy:


    "I have no interest in the Emperor''s secrets for immortality or rejuvenation. What I want are his gold and treasures, along with command of the upcoming battle. That is all."


    A glimmer returned to the eyes of the defeated warriors. As they exchanged glances, Michael continued:


    "Of course, I don''t intend to hoard all the treasures. I promise to distribute the rewards fairly among everyone. What do you say?"


    The warriors turned their gazes toward him. Gold and riches held little appeal for them, nor did the promise of command sway them much. They had long since grown weary of such worldly pursuits, having abandoned them to dedicate themselves to the pursuit of strength or enlightenment.


    Aaron, spared humiliation thanks to his reluctant Behemoth, quickly responded on their behalf.


    "Take what you want. We all agree."


    Michael scanned the warriors'' faces. Not a single dissenting voice rose among them. As expected, these seasoned fighters harbored little attachment to material desires.


    Meanwhile, atop the fortress, an Ellonian knight watched the scene unfold with a puzzled expression. Turning to his father, Count Demonic, he asked hesitantly, "If that''s what he wanted all along, then why did he fight them in the first place?"


    Count Demonic momentarily withdrew his admiring gaze from Michael to cuff his son on the head.


    "Because they''d never have accepted his terms otherwise. If he''d started by saying, ''Give me command, and you can have the Emperor''s secrets,'' do you think these warriors would''ve agreed? They follow strength, not words."


    The count''s tone carried the weight of experience and an acute understanding of the realities of power. The warriors gathered in the courtyard weren''t the type to follow orders unless they were compelled to by undeniable strength. Michael''s strategy had been to earn their respect through sheer dominance.


    Watching comprehension slowly dawn on his son''s face, Count Demonic sighed. His gaze returned to Michael, his admiration evident.


    "To possess such skill and cunning¡­ the continent''s balance of power is bound to shift."


    Michael approached Aaron, extending his hand in a firm gesture of camaraderie. His expression held no trace of arrogance, and Aaron, appreciating the humility, smiled.


    "Well, it seems we''ve both gotten what we wanted. I''d say this makes us all winners," Aaron remarked.

 Chapter 231 - 231 The Saint of Healing

    Michael smiled back, but their moment of peace was interrupted by a grumbling voice from the edge of the courtyard. It belonged to Aaron''s old comrade, Derrick.


    "Stop showing off and call the healers, you crazy old man!" Derrick''s grumbling voice broke the tension, and laughter erupted across the courtyard. Among the wounded, playful gripes and banter began to spread, cutting through the lingering solemnity.


    Michael, with his practiced social charm, moved among the fallen warriors, helping them to their feet and lightening the atmosphere with jokes. As they laughed and exchanged camaraderie, the remnants of bitterness faded, replaced by a newfound bond of brotherhood.


    One grizzled veteran, his face alight with humor despite the scorch marks and cuts on his armor, turned to Michael with a wide grin.


    "You''re truly something, young man. Are you married, by chance? I have a great-granddaughter who''s a stunning beauty¡ªrefined and intelligent. You''d be perfect for her."


    Another warrior nearby gasped dramatically.


    "Hold on now! Haven''t you heard the rumors? The King of Rania already has his eyes on Michael as a son-in-law!"


    Michael chuckled awkwardly, sensing that Capone Duke''s influence back in the capital was working overtime.


    As the defensive barriers around the fortress shimmered and disappeared, a group of healers dressed in flowing white robes entered the courtyard. Their faces radiated kindness and purpose, and they moved with an air of calm authority. Leading them was Anita, who immediately captured everyone''s attention. As she approached, the very atmosphere seemed to grow softer and more serene.


    Her translucent, alabaster skin and striking red eyes were mesmerizing, yet it was her presence that truly captivated those watching. There was an inexplicable warmth and peace about her that drew all eyes. Even her fellow healers, familiar with her abilities, looked at her with reverence, as if she were a saint.


    Anita walked slowly, supported by Ismahal, her older brother, whose protective grip on her arm spoke volumes about his affection and concern. Their steps were deliberate, synchronized, and steady¡ªa perfect harmony of care and grace.


    Michael''s gaze lingered on Anita, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. She had grown taller, her once-bent back now straight, her gait confident and assured.


    "She''s extraordinary," he thought to himself.


    As they approached, Michael raised his voice to introduce her.


    "This is Anita of the Pamir Highlands, known as the ''Saint of Healing.''"


    Ismahal''s face reddened with incredulity at the title. The Saint of Healing? It seemed like an unnecessary embellishment. Whispers from the onlookers only deepened his discomfort.


    "The Saint of Healing? Really? Why would someone with such abilities be hiding in the Pamir Highlands?"


    "That''s strange. Even in the Radiant Kingdom, that lineage died out long ago."


    The skeptical murmurs soon quieted. Michael''s undeniable display of power earlier made it hard to dismiss his words as mere exaggeration. Moreover, Anita''s calming aura seemed to silence dissent without a single word.


    Michael addressed the crowd again.


    "Those of you who are injured, please line up here. The most severely wounded should come forward, while those with minor injuries can wait at the back."


    The warriors, despite their pride, began shuffling into line. Their attempts to outdo one another with chivalry, however, quickly became comical.


    "After you, sir. You go first."


    "No, no, I''m far younger than you. Please, you go ahead."


    "Young? At our age, what does that even mean? Besides, you''re more injured than I am." sea??h th§× N??eFire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Ridiculous! Anyone can see you''re worse off!"


    "Listen, I''ve got plenty of time to wait. I insist you go first."


    Anita couldn''t help but smile at their antics. The scene reminded her of the elders in her village, bickering over trivial matters.


    Her gaze fell on Faust, who sat on the ground, his white beard stained with mud as he struggled to endure the pain of his injuries. Having been at the center of the magical assault, he was among the most gravely wounded.


    Anita approached him carefully, extending her hand. Startled, Faust looked up at her. The calmness in her eyes seemed to ease his tension, and after a moment''s hesitation, he took her hand.


    Closing her eyes as if in prayer, Anita''s expression grew solemn. A soft light began to emanate from her fingertips, spreading gently. The courtyard fell silent as everyone watched the ethereal glow grow brighter, like a miniature sun enveloping her and Faust.


    With precision and care, Anita directed the light to Faust''s injuries. As the radiance flowed over his burns and lacerations, his charred skin regained its natural color, and his twisted flesh smoothed and healed.


    Gasps of astonishment rippled through the crowd. The wounds that would have taken ordinary healers days of effort vanished in mere moments under Anita''s touch.


    Faust stared at his renewed body in awe and disbelief, the pain that had gripped him moments before completely gone. It was as if his very cells had been reborn.


    Even Michael watched in admiration, marveling at Anita''s skill. While he had suspected she possessed incredible abilities from Babaru''s memories, seeing her power firsthand exceeded all his expectations. Her healing seemed capable of reversing time itself¡ªperhaps even reattaching severed limbs.


    Straightening his back for the first time since the battle began, Faust let out a sigh of relief. Though he had concealed his concerns, he had doubted whether he could join the Emperor''s campaign in his battered state. Now, not only was the pain gone, but he felt stronger than ever.


    Humbled, Faust bowed deeply.


    "Truly¡­ your abilities are extraordinary. Anita, the Saint of Healing."


    Anita blushed at the title, opening her mouth to protest, but her words were drowned out by the clamor of warriors now jostling to be treated next.


    "Hey! Me first!"


    "No way! I''ve been waiting longer!"


    Thus, the legend of Anita, the Saint of Healing, began to unfold.


    With the ranks organized, Michael and the assembled warriors set off from Orlando Fortress with renewed resolve. Behind them, countless soldiers cheered and wished them luck as they departed. Their destination was the imperial capital, where the Emperor himself resided.

 Chapter 232 - 232 The Expedition Begins

    Two days had passed since their departure, with each warrior commanding their personal forces and mounted on their respective magical beasts. Their pace far outstripped that of any ordinary cavalry unit, thanks to the collective power of their airborne mounts.


    As the group flew in formation, the skies gradually darkened. Eventually, they reached the border between the Kingdom of Ellonia and the Pamir Empire, where the ruins of Dolche Fortress came into view.


    Once a proud guardian of the kingdom, Dolche Fortress now lay abandoned, shrouded in shadow. Its walls, once a symbol of unyielding strength, stood in crumbling disrepair, overtaken by weeds and time.


    Michael signaled the group to descend in front of the fortress. With nightfall approaching, rest was essential. As he surveyed the desolate stronghold, his expression grew complicated. Dolche Fortress bore the scars of being the first bastion to fall to the Empire''s onslaught. Its thick, blood-soaked walls were riddled with cracks, and the outer ramparts surrounding its moat had collapsed into heaps of rubble. S~ea??h the N?vel(F)ire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Wild grass and vines now grew unchecked, erasing traces of its former glory. The area surrounding the fortress was equally desolate. Once bustling with merchants and villagers, the roads were now silent and forlorn. The wind swept across the fields, carrying a haunting sound and stirring up dust. Beyond the broken gates, the interior of the fortress loomed eerily quiet, as though it still echoed with the despair and agony of its defenders.


    Michael''s gaze lingered on the fallen central tower, which had once stood tall to repel invaders. Now, it lay in ruins, a nesting ground for birds. Memories of the fortress''s brutal fall weighed heavily on him, as if the cries of the soldiers who perished there still echoed faintly in his ears.


    For a time, Dolche Fortress had been occupied by the Empire. However, the invaders had withdrawn after the capture of Crown Prince Oswald and the five tribal chiefs allied with the Empire. Their retreat had likely been motivated by concern for their chiefs rather than loyalty to the crown prince. Regardless of the reason, Ellonia and Rania were now safe from immediate threats.


    Michael''s eyes scanned the fortress walls, their surfaces worn by nearly four millennia of history. Dolche Fortress had endured countless wars and invasions, its strength a testament to its strategic significance. Despite its current state of disrepair, it remained a symbol of resilience.


    The fortress, constructed with the rumored aid of divine power, was legendary for its defenses. Until its recent fall, it had never been breached, a feat that underscored its formidable construction. Under normal circumstances, even the Empire''s might would have struggled to capture it quickly.


    However, the misfortune of the Marquis of Dolche changed the course of history. While inspecting nearby border villages, the marquis and his retinue encountered the Empire''s advancing forces. The marquis and his escort of elite warriors perished in the skirmish, leaving the fortress defenseless.


    Seizing the opportunity, the Empire''s army advanced unimpeded. The marquis''s body was later returned impaled on a stake, a grim warning to the remaining defenders. Demoralized, the soldiers of Dolche Fortress fought valiantly but were ultimately overwhelmed and slaughtered.


    The swift fall of Dolche Fortress had dire consequences for Ellonia, setting off a chain of defeats. Had the marquis survived and fortified the fortress, reinforcements could have been summoned, and the tide of war might have turned. Instead, Ellonia lost its most critical stronghold, leaving it vulnerable to the Empire''s relentless advance.


    Even in its current state, Dolche Fortress impressed Michael. The centuries-old structure retained an air of strength and determination, its foundations standing firm despite its outward ruin. With some repairs, he believed the fortress could be restored to its former grandeur.


    For Michael, Dolche Fortress was more than just a relic; it represented an opportunity. He resolved that, upon the conclusion of this campaign, he would claim the fortress and its surrounding lands as part of his reward. With Dolche Fortress as his new defensive stronghold, his influence would grow beyond dispute.


    When Michael first entered the war, Ellonia was desperately resisting the Empire''s invasion. Facing near-certain defeat, King Henry III promised to grant any wish to the one who could drive the Empire out. Michael had already been awarded the fertile lands of the Elandor Plains along with his title. Combined with the territory granted by Rania in the Drago Mountains and the potential addition of Dolche Fortress, his holdings would rival those of a small duchy.


    What made his plan even more advantageous was that these territories were interconnected, forming a cohesive line of defense. The proximity of resources and troops would ensure efficient management and unparalleled military strength.


    This realization filled Michael with quiet satisfaction. For Ellonia, however, it was likely an unexpected complication. The kingdom had never truly believed anyone could repel the Empire, and the promise of reward had been made as a nominal gesture.


    At the start of the war, the Empire''s overwhelming strength had pushed Ellonia to the brink of collapse. Yet now, the Empire had retreated, and Ellonia owed its survival largely to Michael. Given his contributions, the kingdom would likely count itself fortunate if his demands remained modest.


    Rich plains, a powerful fortress, and the vast territory of the Drago Mountains¡ªit was a small price to pay for salvation. Under ordinary circumstances, a noble expanding his domain so significantly would have drawn the king''s scrutiny. But Michael had no such concerns.


    With Capone Duke''s alliance effectively securing Michael''s engagement to Princess Astrid, the arrangements were as good as finalized. Charles V would undoubtedly welcome the dowry, or rather, the vast wealth and influence that Michael brought with him. After all, everything would eventually pass to the children born of Michael and Astrid.


    As Michael surveyed Dolche Fortress with satisfaction, his steps faltered upon entering the inner courtyard. Through the swirling dust carried by the wind, he caught sight of bodies dangling from poles. The gusts of wind intensified as night approached, causing the poles to creak and the bodies to sway.


    The dried, withered corpses bore the unmistakable marks of their final, agonizing moments. Their contorted faces seemed frozen in eternal screams. Michael''s eyes darkened with fury at the sight.

 Chapter 233 - 233 Anger, Sorrow, And Resolve.

    Around him, the veteran warriors from an earlier era shared his anger, their expressions filled with grief and indignation.


    "Sigh¡­ I was once close to the previous Marquis of Dolche. To think his family would meet such a tragic end," one of the older knights murmured.


    The evidence of the marquis''s and his family''s fate was painfully clear. After the fortress fell and every soldier perished, the family met a similarly grim demise. Perhaps they could have fled, but they chose to stay, facing a brutal death instead.


    Anita''s gaze fell on a smaller figure among the corpses, clearly a woman. Her torn and tattered dress hung loosely around her waist, a grim testament to the horrors she had endured. Unable to bear the sight, Anita closed her eyes.


    Nearby lay the bodies of two children, their small forms hinting at unimaginable suffering. Around them were the corpses of the marquis and his retainers, impaled in their armor. Each bore signs of torture, their mangled remains filling the air with a sickening stench whenever the wind shifted.


    Michael stood silently, staring at the horrific scene. His mind swirled with a mix of emotions¡ªanger, sorrow, and resolve.


    One of the veteran knights glanced around the desolate fortress with a hollow expression. The wind howled through the empty ruins, rustling the poles and eliciting a creaking sound that resembled a ghostly wail. Amid the swirling dust, a lone flower petal drifted on the breeze, landing atop the corpses.


    The petal settled between the marquis and his wife, a cruel echo of the love they had once shared. With a sigh of resignation, the knight spoke.


    "The Marquis of Dolche and his retinue¡­ they fought to the bitter end despite being outnumbered."


    The other veterans listened in solemn silence, their bowed heads reminiscent of a mourning vigil.


    "They resisted with everything they had," another knight said quietly. "And that resistance only led to greater cruelty for their family. The more they fought, the harsher the punishment their loved ones endured."


    A white-haired sorceress gazed into the distance and said evenly, "It couldn''t have been helped. Should they have surrendered instead? I don''t believe the Marquis made the wrong choice."


    Another woman, clad in sleek black leather, nodded in agreement. The wind brushed past the fortress walls, carrying her voice with it.


    "Exactly. Do you think surrendering would have ensured their safety? Those bastards would have thrown them into cold dungeons, tortured them, and forced them to watch their loved ones die."


    Her eyes carried the weight of past pain. She turned back to the swaying corpses, her voice heavy with old memories.


    "I had a dear friend once, captured alive by those monsters. His mind was shattered before we could rescue him. Even after he was freed, he withered away and died, haunted by what he endured. They cooked the people who were captured alongside him into soup and forced him to eat it."


    A heavy silence followed her words, filled with the weight of grief and shared anguish.


    "Sigh¡­ it''s something many of us have faced," said another knight, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But what crime did the women and children commit to deserve this?"


    The Pamir Empire''s cruelty toward prisoners was infamous across the continent, a reputation etched in blood and fear. Michael listened intently, the stories of loss and helplessness resonating deeply with him. Even these legendary warriors had memories of failing to protect those they loved.


    Clenching his fists, Michael sank into deep thought. If he wished to shield his family and subjects from such tragedies, he would need greater strength and systemic change. The Marquis of Dolche and his loyal retainers had sacrificed their lives for their country, yet their defiance only fueled the Empire''s brutality.


    The final breaths of the marquis''s family had been extinguished atop the fortress walls, reduced to mere symbols of humiliation. Michael saw their plight as more than a simple defeat; it was a stark reminder of the harsh realities of the continent''s political landscape.


    Their resistance, though honorable, had failed to earn them the respect they deserved. Surrender might have spared their lives in exchange for a ransom, but even that would have tarnished their legacy. The current system offered no fair recognition for courage or sacrifice. Instead, it left the brave branded as failures, their families stripped of status and security.


    Michael felt anger and sorrow rise within him as he reflected on the senselessness of the situation. The system, as it stood, rewarded cowardice and punished valor. It was a world where the most cunning or submissive survived, while the truly courageous were ground into dust.


    In such a society, true valor and justice could never flourish. Michael resolved that this cruel cycle had to end. His first step would be to reform how the fallen were treated. Those who fought and died bravely deserved to be honored, not branded as failures. sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    It was time to ensure that sacrifice and courage were met with dignity and respect¡ªnot mockery and ruin.


    As Michael and his expeditionary force set up camp within Dolche Fortress, far away in the Kingdom of Rania, Duke Rochester was consumed with worry over his son''s safety. The duke''s castle, constructed from sturdy gray stone, stood as a stately and imposing structure. At its heart lay the council chamber, an isolated and secure room symbolizing the power of the Rochester family, rulers of the kingdom''s northwestern territories.


    The chamber''s arched ceiling soared overhead, exuding an air of grandeur, while intricately carved statues stood guard at each corner, resembling silent protectors. Some of these statues were said to animate and defend the castle during times of peril, serving as true sentinels.


    Massive murals adorned the walls, depicting the glory of past battles alongside the family''s noble crest: a crimson rose crossed with a golden sword. The crest embodied both the family''s honor and their insatiable ambition.


    One wall was lined with a towering bookshelf filled with tomes chronicling the Rochester family''s long history of cunning and political maneuvering. The centerpiece of the room, a long mahogany table, was illuminated by magical candelabras, their glow reflecting on the faces of the gathered nobles.

 Chapter 234 - 234 The Nobles Stockpiled Goods

    Draped in opulent robes, the nobles sat with an air of forced composure, their faces betraying a mix of ambition and unease. A sharp tension filled the chamber. These lords had secretly collaborated with the Pamir Empire during the war, seeking to profit handsomely from the conflict.


    Yet their plans had been completely derailed. Michael''s capture of the empire''s crown prince and tribal chiefs had brought the war to an abrupt and unexpected end. In retaliation, the empire turned its ire toward the northwestern nobility of Rania.


    The nobles now sat in frustration, venting their anger at Michael. Their clandestine arms deals with the empire had been disrupted, leaving them without payment. Worse, the empire''s fury now loomed over them.


    "Had we only had more time," one noble lamented, pounding the table in frustration. "The profits from those smuggling ro utes would''ve been immense. We could''ve used that money to buy slaves from the empire''s brokers and replenish our dwindling population."


    With their territories ravaged by continu ous warfare, the nobles had grown reliant on slaves to maintain their fiefs. The longer the war dragged on, the greater their profits grew¡ªat the expense of their people''s lives.


    Scowling, one noble finally spoke.


    "The trade routes we established with the empire have been devastated by this war. Now they refuse to resume trade until we return the crown prince and tribal chiefs."


    Another noble, his arms crossed tightly, added, "What a disaster. This war should''ve dragged on for years, grinding to a stalemate as wars often do."


    A third noble sighed, drumming his fingers on the table.


    "Exactly. As soldiers grew weary and supply lines strained, our profits would''ve only increased. And now¡­."


    The chamber fell into sullen silence. The gathered lords exchanged glances of shared resentment, their expressions heavy with disappointment. O ne noble muttered bitterly, "All the goodwill we cultivated with the empire has been for nothing. Years of careful diplomacy¡ªgone in an instant."


    Another, clenching his fist in anger, growled, "And it doesn''t stop there! They''re pressuring us to demand the release of their crown prince and chiefs. Public sentiment is turning against us. They''re making us scapegoats!"


    Frustration simmered across the room. A noble slammed his fist on the table, his voice trembling with rage.


    "How is this fair? We didn''t even capture them ourselves, and they''re not even in our custody! How can they hold us accountable?" S§×ar?h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Another noble, brushing his hair back in irritation, sneered.


    "The problem lies with that Count Michael. This is why you can''t trust upstarts. If the war had dragged on, there would''ve been so much more to siphon off. But he doesn''t understand that¡ªso he went and ended it in one fell swoop."


    The others nodded in agreement, some even voicing their disdain.


    "Exactly! The man has no political sense. Doesn''t he realize wars are an opportunity to eliminate rivals and maximize profits?"


    One noble, managing a bitter laugh, waved his hand to redirect the discussion.


    "Enough about him. The real issue is what to do with the stockpiled goods. And the shipments we''ve already sent¡ªthey haven''t even been paid for!"


    "Can we at least demand payment for what''s already been delivered?" another asked hesitantly.


    A noble across the table shook his head grimly.


    "Do you really think they''ll pay? They''re already screaming for us to release the crown prince. They don''t operate by the rules of common decency."


    Another noble, exasperated, offered a harsh reality check.


    "It''s best to consider the goods already delivered as a loss. If we press them for payment, they''ll just threaten to expose the smuggling operation."


    The chamber grew even more oppressive. Sighs of despair and frustration rippled through the gathering. A noble rubbed the back of his neck, groaning, "How did things come to this? Even the slave trade from the empire has dried up, hasn''t it?"


    "Don''t even mention it. The Pamir Empire''s slave traders are in complete disarray. I''ve heard that entire minor tribes have vanished without a trace."


    Another noble turned to him, eyes wide with shock.


    "Is that true? I''ve heard rumors from a slave broker I know, but could it be happening across the entire empire?"


    The first noble nodded grimly.


    "Yes, it''s true. Those brokers were all connected to the five tribal chiefs. Now, no matter how closely they monitor things, the smaller tribes are disappearing entirely."


    At the far end of the table, a nervous voice interjected,


    "I''ve heard the same. Entire villages vanish overnight¡ªone evening they''re there, and by morning, not a single soul remains. This is a disaster."


    The weight of the revelation deepened the gloom in the chamber. One noble let out a deep sigh, his laughter tinged with hopelessness.


    "Oh dear, it seems this year''s autumn harvest is ruined," one noble lamented, slumping back in his chair. "I had mobilized all my serfs into the army just to prove to the royal family how much this war has cost me."


    It was one misfortune after another. Sighs echoed around the council chamber.


    "You''re not the only one," another noble grumbled. "I was counting on the death toll among my serfs to secure a hefty compensation from the crown¡­."


    Their thoughts were filled with resentment toward Michael, who had disrupted their profit-making schemes. None of them paused to consider that their woes stemmed from their own collusion with the enemy and illicit trade.


    The nobles turned their gaze toward Duke Rochester, seated at the head of the table. They hoped he would offer some solution or at least reassuring words. Yet, the duke''s mind was elsewhere, his anxiety poorly concealed.


    Sensing his unease, one of his close aides cautiously asked, "Your Grace, you seem unusually preoccupied today. Has something happened?"


    For the head of the northwestern faction to appear so distracted during such a crucial meeting was a matter of concern. The duke quickly dismissed the inquiry with a wave of his hand.


    "Nothing of consequence. I simply didn''t sleep well last night."

 Chapter 235 - 235 Equipping the Cannons

    Another aide, ever eager to please, chimed in with a sycophantic tone.


    "Ah, we aren''t as young as we once were, Your Grace. You must take care of yourself. Perhaps a nap during the day would help?"


    A third noble added, "Indeed! Surely Your Grace has been too busy to rest. If you''re feeling unwell, perhaps we should adjourn for the day and resume the meeting tomorrow."


    The room quickly filled with murmurs of concern for the duke''s health. Unlike the northeastern faction, which was mired in internal disputes, the northwestern faction was firmly under Duke Rochester''s control. Any dissenters had already been eliminated during the chaos of the war.


    Rochester furrowed his brow and shook his head.


    "That won''t be necessary. I appreciate your concern, but let''s continue with the meeting."


    He straightened in his seat, attempting to refocus on the discussion. Yet, the repetitive complaints and grievances of the other nobles only pulled his thoughts further astray.


    Philip¡­ why haven''t I heard from you?


    Philip was the duke''s son, born from his truest love, Esmeralda. Though excluded from succession due to the laws favoring legitimate heirs, Philip was exceptionally capable and held a special place in his father''s heart.


    However, since Philip had been conscripted into the allied forces supporting the Kingdom of Elonia, all contact with him had ceased. This silence gnawed at the duke, his worry growing with each passing day.


    The other nobles exchanged glances as they noticed their leader''s distracted state. It was clear that continuing the meeting in his current condition would yield no meaningful results.


    One noble cleared his throat and proposed,


    "Ahem, there seem to be several unresolved issues on our agenda. Perhaps we should reconvene tomorrow afternoon?"


    "That''s a sensible suggestion," another agreed. "There''s little point in pushing forward without proper preparation. We''ll only have to meet again."


    "Yes, let''s call it a day and resume tomorrow after a good rest," a third chimed in. "What do you say, Your Grace?"


    Rochester, startled out of his thoughts, looked up at the mention of his name.


    "There are still materials to review, so we''re suggesting postponing the meeting until tomorrow. Is that acceptable?" S§×arch* The N??elFir§×.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The duke nodded absently, relieved to have an excuse to end the session.


    "Very well. Let''s reconvene tomorrow. You''ve all worked hard¡ªcome to the castle tomorrow, and I''ll ensure you''re treated to a fine luncheon before we resume."


    With that, the nobles began to rise, gathering their belongings. What had been less of a council meeting and more of a covert assembly of spies with ties to the Pamir Empire finally came to an end.


    As the chamber emptied, Duke Rochester made his way back to his quarters, his expression heavy with unease. This silence surrounding Philip could not be ignored. If his son had perished in battle, he should have received official word by now¡ªbut there had been none.


    Once inside his private chambers, the duke summoned his most trusted knight. Lowering his voice, he gave his orders.


    "It seems something has happened to Philip. I need you to find out what has become of him."


    The knight, who had served the duke for many years, responded with a respectful bow before leaving the room. Though his feelings toward Philip, a legitimized bastard who had enjoyed numerous privileges, were complicated, he knew his duty to the duke came first.


    Meanwhile, Michael awoke nestled between Marcus and Miaomiao. Stretching and enjoying the soft fur beneath him, he quickly regained his composure. Both Marcus and Miaomiao remained fast asleep, their exhaustion evident.


    It''s no wonder¡ªthey''ve barely rested while flying nonstop.


    After dressing and tidying his belongings, Michael left the two to their slumber. Breakfast was brought to him shortly after, prepared by a chef accompanying some of the more indulgent members of the expedition. The meal was unexpectedly delightful for a campaign setting.


    Stepping out of his tent, Michael surveyed the camp. The Pamir Empire lay just ahead, and it was time to reorganize.


    Until now, they had relied on airborne travel due to the lack of enemy threats. However, such an approach would no longer suffice. While smaller groups on individual mounts could prepare for battle mid-air, transporting larger numbers made them vulnerable.


    To address this, Michael had tasked Leonardo with studying the structure of the airships commanded by Drayko, a notorious raider who targeted merchant vessels from the Holy Land of Radiance and the Pamir Empire.


    Drayko had welcomed Leonardo warmly, and now, the results of their collaboration stood before Michael.


    Leonardo approached with a beaming smile, bowing deeply before gesturing grandly toward their creation.


    "This, my lord, is the newly constructed Crassus! A marvel of engineering!"


    Tall and golden-haired, Leonardo''s fervent admiration for Michael was always a bit overwhelming. Yet, his loyalty and skill were undeniable, and once again, Leonardo had exceeded expectations.


    Michael stepped forward, drawn toward the Crassus as if spellbound. The sleek, ivory-colored airship spread its elegant wings in a graceful arc. Gasps of awe erupted around him.


    "Unbelievable! You''re saying we can actually fly in that?"


    "This is incredible. Where did he find such an alchemist?"


    "Not just an alchemist¡ªit''s said he''s of Yoma descent. Given that Michael''s maternal family were executioners, it makes sense."


    Listening to the admiration around him, Leonardo puffed out his chest and declared,


    "It doesn''t just fly, my lord. The side-mounted cannons make it a formidable weapon as well."


    Michael worked to steady the excitement building in his chest, a thought crossing his mind.


    Of course¡­ every great hero needs cannons.


    "What is that¡­?"


    On the road to Pamilian, the capital of the Pamir Empire, a small fortress stood guard. Isolated from its surroundings, the fortress acted as a shield protecting the heart of the empire, instilling pride in the soldiers stationed there.


    As the air grew colder with the approach of night, the fortress''s commander, Bulak, spotted a glittering dot on the far horizon. He frowned.


    The twinkling light in the dark, endless sky was unlike anything he''d ever seen in his life. Bulak immediately sensed it wasn''t a natural phenomenon like a star or a shooting star. The light shimmered faintly and, with each passing moment, inched closer to the capital.

 Chapter 236 - 236 Entering The Empire

    A vague unease crept over him as he stared at the glowing dot, noticing something odd: smaller black specks surrounded it.


    Being a member of the Black Hawk Clan, Bulak''s sharp eyesight allowed him to discern details others would have missed. The small specks were maintaining a precise formation, orbiting the central light in what seemed to be a protective pattern.


    At first, he thought they might be a flock of birds. Yet, their orderly movement and their synchronized formation felt too unnatural for mere animals.


    As the formation drew nearer, Bulak realized these weren''t ordinary creatures. The central light reflected off something: wings, shimmering as if polished to a metallic gleam. S§×ar?h the nov§×lF~ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "Could it be a migration of beasts? But¡­ beasts of different species moving together, in such numbers? That''s impossible¡­."


    Staring blankly at the strange procession, Bulak felt his anxiety deepen. The closer they came, the more certain he became: this wasn''t natural.


    A chill ran down his spine. Someone, somewhere, had dared to invade the great Pamir Empire.


    Bulak spun around, intending to warn the capital of the impending danger. But before he could take a step, he froze.


    A towering knight, mounted on a massive beast, blocked his path.


    The aura radiating from the knight was icy and suffocating. His mere presence left Bulak paralyzed, unable to move.


    Before Bulak could fully process the situation, the knight''s cold, glowing eyes locked onto his.


    In a flash, the knight''s arm moved with supernatural speed. The blade he unsheathed gleamed in the darkness, a metallic arc that sliced through the air with an eerie whistle.


    "Khrrk¡­!"


    Bulak collapsed without so much as a cry. Blood spilled onto the ground as his body, cleaved in two, crumpled like a broken doll. His armor, though forged of the strongest steel, was no match for the knight''s sword.


    The knight, Aron, casually flicked the blood from his blade and glanced down at the fallen commander. His expression was devoid of pity or emotion.


    "This one was too weak," Aron muttered, clicking his tongue in disappointment. He had expected more from the leader of a Black Hawk Clan fortress.


    The massive beast beneath him, Behemoth, growled.


    [Maybe he wasn''t weak¡ªyou''re just too strong. Admit it, you wanted to hear that, didn''t you? And don''t forget, it''s thanks to me that we infiltrated so quietly.]


    "Fine, fine, I get it," Aron replied, raising a hand in mock surrender. "Let''s finish this quickly and rejoin the others. Remember what happened last time? Rebecca spent hours yelling after we got separated."


    Behemoth snorted but didn''t argue. With a powerful leap, the beast propelled itself over the fortress wall, blending seamlessly into the shadows. Aron followed close behind, his sword poised and ready.


    The two moved with deadly precision. Soldiers patrolling the walls were oblivious to the approaching danger, yawning or casually chatting as they made their rounds.


    Behemoth struck first. The massive shadow loomed over a soldier, and with a swift motion, the soldier''s head separated from his body. The lifeless corpse fell silently to the ground.


    Aron didn''t hesitate. Before the dead man''s comrade could process what had happened, Aron''s blade pierced his heart. The soldier collapsed, blood pooling beneath him as Aron pulled his sword free.


    Blood sprayed into the air as Aron dispatched his next target, each strike as fluid and precise as the last. His movements were swift and lethal, leaving no room for error or counterattack.


    Meanwhile, Behemoth charged through the fortress with ruthless efficiency. Its claws tore through armor like paper, and its jaws crushed bones with ease. Soldiers scrambled to react, but Behemoth gave them no chance.


    Within moments, the fortress walls were littered with the bodies of its defenders.


    Aron leaped from the wall, entering the fortress proper. Those who realized something was wrong screamed and tried to flee, but Aron cut them down without mercy.


    "Where do you think you''re going?" he called out, his voice cold and menacing. "This place is your grave."


    The sound of his voice sent shivers down the spines of the fleeing soldiers. Even Behemoth paused to chuckle, its maw curling into what could only be described as a smirk.


    [Stop showing off and finish them already. Don''t forget our bet!]


    Annoyed by the interruption, Aron sighed but resumed the slaughter. Behemoth, too, turned its focus back to the terrified soldiers, tearing through them with brutal efficiency.


    By the time Aron delivered the final blow to the last soldier, the fortress had been reduced to a blood-soaked ruin.


    Aron flicked the blood from his blade once more, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. Behemoth, equally pleased, lumbered over to him, a smug expression in its glowing eyes.


    [I killed three more than you. Don''t forget our wager¡ªgold.]


    Aron glanced at Behemoth and patted its mane.


    "Of course, of course. You think I''d break a promise at my age?"


    Behemoth, seemingly pleased with Aron''s words and touch, narrowed its eyes in satisfaction. Together, they scoured the fortress thoroughly, ensuring no one had survived to spread word of their infiltration.


    By dawn, the pair would reunite with the main force and advance toward the imperial capital, Pamilian, without alerting the empire to their movements.


    The Crassus floated in the night sky, a gleaming phantom slicing through the heavens. Its pristine, alabaster exterior radiated an aura of both elegance and overwhelming presence.


    The cannons mounted along its flanks and its reinforced steel hull made one thing clear¡ªthis was no mere airship. Modeled after ancient magical warships, Crassus had been reborn in Leonardo''s hands, a true mobile fortress in the skies.


    Surrounding it, hundreds of aerial beasts flew in synchronized formation. Each creature, unique in form and size, beat its powerful wings to escort the Crassus.


    This formidable escort comprised beasts brought by the mighty warriors accompanying the expedition, those under Michael''s special operations units, and others subdued by Marcus and Miaomiao during their passage over the Argo Mountains.


    Each of these creatures was a living weapon, armored in impenetrable scales and armed with razor-sharp fangs.

 Chapter 237 - 237 The Second Expedition

    The beasts maintained a vigilant watch, their sharp eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. They moved with precision, forming an organic shield around the Crassus, which loomed over the sky like a supreme being.


    Inside the airship, Michael and Miaomiao alternated their shifts, meticulously overseeing the expedition.


    Utilizing the Crassus''s advanced telescopes, combined with Michael''s exceptional vision, they monitored the ground below, tracking every movement with pinpoint accuracy.


    They identified imperial defensive lines and minor fortifications and launched calculated, stealthy assaults when necessary.


    The alliance of Michael and the warriors crushed imperial strongholds one by one, advancing steadily. However, not all fortifications were attacked. Those unaware of the aerial force''s presence were ironically spared. Only those who raised alarms and caused disturbances were dealt with.


    Each assault was spearheaded by a warrior and their beast, their attacks swift and devastating. The Crassus hovered above, ready to respond to any unforeseen events, resembling a divine entity surveying the land.


    Michael watched Aron and Behemoth rejoin the expedition from his vantage point aboard the Crassus. A faint smile crossed his lips.


    It had been five days since they''d begun their covert march deep into the Pamir Empire.


    With most of the empire''s champions deployed to the warfront, its defensive lines were practically deserted. Taking advantage of these gaps, the Crassus and its fleet pressed forward unimpeded.


    This seamless advance was made possible by the unwavering support of Oswald, the imperial prince. The intelligence he provided ensured the expedition faced minimal resistance. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Prince Oswald stood beside Michael, his gaze fixed on the ground below. Despite his outward composure, his heart churned with guilt and apprehension.


    "Was this the right choice?"


    He had asked himself this question thousands of times, and as they neared Pamilian, the weight of his decision grew heavier.


    A shadow of his father, the emperor, loomed in his mind, forcing him to shake his head.


    He had no other choice. To survive, this was the only path.


    Turning to Michael, Oswald spoke in a low voice.


    "We''ll soon arrive at Pamilian. I''ve already coordinated with the city''s garrison commander."


    Michael''s gaze, cold and inscrutable, bore into Oswald. A chill ran down the prince''s spine, his instincts screaming at him to be cautious. He continued, his voice faltering slightly.


    "Um¡­ the commander of the garrison is Chancellor Mufasa. I''ve sent him a letter requesting his cooperation. He, too, harbors deep resentment toward my father''s actions."


    Oswald swallowed hard, then forced himself to continue. "The chancellor has pledged his support. I even have his written response."


    Oswald retrieved the letter and handed it to Michael with trembling hands. Michael opened it calmly, his expression unreadable as he scanned the contents. A faint, enigmatic smile curled his lips.


    The letter was a scathing condemnation of the emperor''s tyranny and pledged unwavering support for Oswald''s claim to the throne.


    But Michael wasn''t fooled. He could see through Mufasa''s intentions. With the empire''s champions and resources stretched thin, and powerful warriors converging on the emperor, the monarch''s survival was unlikely.


    Even with the entire garrison mobilized, the odds of defending the city were slim.


    The emperor, having forsaken morality and humanity, had lost the legitimacy to rule. The mantle of authority now fell to Oswald.


    Mufasa was a shrewd man. By allying with Oswald, he sought to minimize the empire''s losses and preserve its future. He likely understood the consequences of his actions¡ªshould the emperor discover his betrayal, his entire family would face annihilation.


    Michael closed the letter, his suspicions confirmed. Mufasa aimed to facilitate a bloodless entry into the capital, sparing it from devastation.


    This also aligned with Michael''s goals. With Oswald on the throne, Michael could reclaim his promised lands.


    Nodding quietly, Michael handed the letter back to Oswald, whose shoulders visibly relaxed in relief.


    The prince was grateful that Michael showed no signs of displeasure. He wanted the capital intact¡ªa symbol of continuity, not ruin. A coronation amidst rubble held no appeal.


    Yet, Michael couldn''t help but scoff inwardly at Oswald''s naivety. The emperor wasn''t the type to meekly accept defeat. Men like him, robbed of power, would sooner destroy everything than concede.


    The path to the throne would be far more treacherous than Oswald anticipated.


    The grand meeting hall buzzed with the murmurs of agreement. Every cardinal present nodded fervently, their faces lighting up with shared ambition.


    The pontiff, Allegro III, watched them closely, a sly smile tugging at his lips. His suggestion had done exactly as intended¡ªstirred the flames of greed and self-preservation in the hearts of his aging subordinates.


    One cardinal, an elderly man with trembling hands but sharp, calculating eyes, rose from his seat. This was Cardinal Jacobo, known across the Celestial Kingdom as the "Shadow Cardinal" for his ruthless political maneuvers.


    "Your Holiness," he began, his voice reverent yet firm, "declaring the emperor of the Pamir Empire a heretic is a move of divine brilliance. It is our duty to cleanse the world of such vile practices. If the emperor''s supposed longevity is not blessed by the Light, then it must be eradicated."


    The room echoed with murmurs of approval. Other cardinals quickly added their voices to the growing consensus.


    "It is only right. We must protect the faithful from falling victim to these sacrilegious practices!"


    "Indeed! The emperor''s actions mock the divine order. His punishment must be swift and absolute."


    Their zeal was palpable, though it stemmed less from a pious sense of duty and more from the tantalizing promise of immortality.


    Allegro III raised a hand, silencing the room. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he spoke.


    "Then it is settled. The Pamir Emperor is hereby declared a heretic. We will form a Second Expedition, an envoy of holy warriors and scholars, to investigate and eradicate this heresy."


    The announcement was met with thunderous applause. Beneath the surface, however, the cardinals exchanged furtive glances, each one scheming to secure a place for themselves or their allies in the expedition.


    After the meeting, Allegro III summoned Commander Vitto, the leader of the Order of Saint Ardent, to his chambers. The knightly order, known for its fervent devotion and martial prowess, was to spearhead the expedition.

 Chapter 238 - 238 The Second Expedition

    Vitto, a towering figure clad in gleaming ceremonial armor, knelt before the pontiff.


    "Your Holiness," he said, his voice deep and unwavering, "I await your command."


    Allegro III gestured for him to rise.


    "Commander, the Pamir Emperor has been declared a heretic. You and your knights shall lead the expedition to deliver divine justice."


    Vitto''s face remained stoic, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of surprise.


    "It will be done, Your Holiness. Do you have any specific instructions?"


    The pontiff leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.


    "You are to retrieve any artifacts or texts related to the emperor''s longevity. Spare no effort. Bring them to me, and ensure they remain intact. This mission is as much about enlightenment as it is about justice."


    Vitto nodded solemnly.


    "As you command."


    Allegro III''s lips curled into a smile.


    "Good. Select your most loyal knights. Additionally, the expedition will include several scholars and healers. This must appear as a divine mission of investigation, not a conquest."


    As Vitto departed to assemble his forces, the cardinals began their own preparations. Each sought to place their loyalists within the ranks of the expedition, ensuring their interests were protected.


    Jacobo, in particular, worked tirelessly through the night. His network of spies and informants buzzed with activity as he sought to uncover every detail about the emperor''s rumored methods.


    "Immortality," he muttered to himself, his eyes glinting with ambition. "If the emperor can achieve it, why not me?"


    He penned secret letters to his allies within the empire, seeking any advantage he could gain.


    Meanwhile, Allegro III stood on the balcony of his chambers, gazing out at the sprawling city of Celestia. The moonlight bathed the golden spires and bustling streets below.


    "Immortality," he whispered, the word a prayer and a curse. "It shall be mine."


    As the church prepared to launch its holy expedition, the winds of change stirred across the continent. The Pamir Empire, already reeling from internal strife and external threats, now faced the looming specter of divine judgment.


    But Allegro III and his cardinals failed to grasp one crucial truth: the emperor they sought to topple would not go down without a fight. And the secrets they coveted might unleash forces far beyond their control.


    Baron Aaron patted Behemoth''s mane, a grin spreading across his face.


    "Of course, of course. Do you think I''d break my word at this age?"


    Behemoth''s narrowed eyes seemed to approve of Aaron''s sincerity, his massive frame visibly relaxing. Together, they patrolled the fortress, ensuring no survivors remained to sound the alarm.


    By tomorrow, they would reach the capital city of Pamir Empire, Pamillian. The news of their incursion must not spread ahead of them.


    The Crassus, gleaming in its white magnificence, floated gracefully across the night sky, like a colossal ghost carving through the heavens.


    Its sleek, pearl-like body shimmered, an awe-inspiring combination of beauty and menace. The massive cannons and reinforced armor along its sides were clear indicators that the Crassus was far more than a mere airship.


    Accompanying the Crassus were hundreds of wyverns and beasts of varying shapes and sizes, their wings slicing through the air in disciplined harmony. These creatures were no ordinary mounts¡ªthey were feral, lethal war machines.


    The beasts were a mix of those brought by the legendary warriors, members of Michael''s special forces, and others who had submitted to Marcus and Miaomiao while crossing the Argo Mountains. Together, they surrounded the airship like a moving fortress.


    The Crassus, guarded by its legion of beasts, cut an imposing figure, dominating the skies with an almost divine presence.


    Inside the airship, Michael and his companions alternated shifts, scanning the ground below through the ship''s telescopes. Every movement of the enemy was meticulously observed, allowing them to bypass certain fortresses and selectively strike those that posed a threat.


    Each assault was swift and decisive. A single warrior paired with a beast led the ambushes, and their precision made victory seem almost effortless.


    Overhead, the Crassus moved deliberately, providing support and overseeing the unfolding battles, its grandeur visible even from miles away. S§×arch* The N?vel(F)ire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    By the time Aaron and Behemoth rejoined the main group, five days had passed.


    The expedition had penetrated deep into the heart of the Pamir Empire without alerting the enemy to their advance.


    Most of the Empire''s forces had been deployed to the frontlines, leaving the defenses of Pamillian¡ªthe imperial capital¡ªthin and vulnerable.


    Prince Oswald of the Pamir Empire stood beside Michael on the bridge of the Crassus, looking down at the terrain below. Though outwardly calm, his heart churned with guilt and unease.


    "Was this the right thing to do?" he wondered for the thousandth time.


    As they drew closer to Pamillian, the weight of his betrayal bore down on him. The capital, the seat of his father''s empire, loomed in the distance, but Oswald''s mind was consumed by the shadows of his choices.


    Forcing himself to speak, he turned to Michael.


    "We''ll soon arrive at Pamillian. I''ve already arranged for the city''s guards to stand down. The captain of the city''s defenses, Chancellor Mufasa, has agreed to cooperate."


    Michael regarded Oswald with a cold, unreadable expression.


    Feeling a shiver run down his spine under Michael''s gaze, Oswald nervously continued.


    "T-That is, Mufasa has grown deeply dissatisfied with my father''s actions. He sees the Emperor''s tyranny for what it is and wishes to support my ascension to the throne."


    Reaching into his robes, Oswald produced a sealed letter.


    "This is his reply. He promises his full support."


    Michael took the letter, his face betraying no emotion. As he read the contents, a faint smirk curled his lips.


    Chancellor Mufasa''s letter expressed outrage at the Emperor''s misdeeds and a solemn vow to aid Oswald in claiming the throne. But Michael could see through the Chancellor''s true intent: to minimize the Empire''s losses by allowing a swift and bloodless transfer of power.


    Michael nodded after a moment, handing the letter back to Oswald.


    "Very well. This works to our advantage. A bloodless entry into Pamillian spares us unnecessary losses."

 Chapter 239 - 239 The final battle for the Empire had begun

    Oswald exhaled a sigh of relief. Michael''s agreement was a small victory amidst the chaos.


    But as Michael turned away, his mind was already preparing for the battles to come.


    "Does the Emperor truly intend to surrender? No¡­ A man who''s clung to power for this long will not yield so easily. If he cannot keep it, he will destroy everything."


    In the heart of Pamillian, Emperor Maximilian I woke with a start, his luxurious chambers lit by the soft morning sun.


    Still in bed with his concubines, he stretched lazily, his mind drifting to his youngest son''s betrayal.


    "That fool Oswald," he muttered, "has thrown away everything for what? To side with my enemies? If they think I''ll give up my throne without a fight, they''re sorely mistaken."


    He rose, his regal figure still imposing despite his age, and donned his robe. He had spent the last few weeks preoccupied with siring a new heir, knowing Oswald''s defection meant he could no longer trust his current lineage.


    But his musings were abruptly interrupted by the sound of frantic banging on his chamber doors.


    Maximilian''s anger flared.


    "Who dares disturb me at this hour?"


    The doors flew open, and his captain of the guard, Conan, stumbled in, covered in blood.


    "Your Majesty! We must flee! The rebels¡ªrebels with foreign allies¡ªare storming the city as we speak!"


    Maximilian''s eyes widened.


    "Rebels? Foreign allies? What madness is this?!"


    Conan''s voice trembled as he continued.


    "They''ve brought airships and monstrous beasts. The city''s defenses are falling one by one!"


    The Emperor''s fury turned to icy resolve.


    "Then so be it. Prepare my guard. I will face these invaders myself. Let them know that Maximilian I does not cower before anyone!"


    The final battle for the Empire had begun


    Maximilian I, still lingering in the remnants of a sweet dream, was jolted awake by the urgent cries of his guard knight. Struggling to maintain his imperial composure, the emperor turned his gaze to the knight before him. The man''s left arm had been severed just below the shoulder, and thick streams of blood poured relentlessly from the wound, soaking the luxurious carpet beneath their feet.


    Maximilian deliberately ignored the sensation of the knight''s blood seeping onto his bare feet and demanded, "What is this commotion? Are rebels attacking us? And what foreign power are you speaking of?"


    The emperor''s calm demeanor stemmed from his confidence in the might of the Imperial Guard stationed in the capital. This elite force, led by the renowned strategist and chancellor Mufasa, was among the finest in the empire. Maximilian believed they would effectively delay any enemy assault, giving him time to call in reinforcements from the surrounding provinces to encircle and crush the invaders.


    However, the guard knight, frustrated by the emperor''s lack of understanding of the gravity of the situation, stomped his foot in exasperation. His eyes were filled with terror, and his trembling jaw betrayed his fear. What he said next froze Maximilian in place.


    "The Imperial Guard¡­ they''ve allied with the foreign forces and are storming the palace. Your Majesty, you must flee at once!"


    Before the knight''s words had fully settled, Maximilian''s dark eyes ignited with rage.


    "Mufasa! That wretch dares¡­!"


    The emperor''s furious outcry reverberated through the corridors. The realization that Mufasa¡ªhis most trusted ally and, in many ways, his right-hand man¡ªhad betrayed him was a devastating blow. Desperation threatened to consume him, but Maximilian quickly forced himself to assess the situation rationally.


    "Damn it¡­ Have they discovered my plans? That fool, too honest for his own good," he muttered under his breath, suppressing his emotions with measured breaths. Anger wouldn''t help him now; what he needed was cold, calculated judgment. sea??h th§× novel(F~)ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "If Mufasa has led a rebellion, the mastermind must be Oswald," Maximilian concluded, his voice low and bitter.


    The knight clutched his severed arm, bowing his head as his consciousness waned. Even so, he remained determined to fulfill his duty. In a desperate tone, he conveyed the dire news.


    "Yes¡­ Your Highness, the crown prince is leading the charge alongside Chancellor Mufasa and the foreign forces. They have already breached the inner palace."


    Maximilian snorted derisively. "Hah! That scum doesn''t deserve to be called a crown prince. Where are the remaining knights?"


    He swiftly pivoted to the matter of the imperial knights defending the palace. The rebellion was beyond containment; the only priority now was identifying forces capable of protecting him.


    The guard knight, pale as a ghost, raised his head. He could no longer feel anything from his severed arm, and his eyes were hollow as he replied, "They are holding their ground at the inner gates. I came ahead to ensure Your Majesty''s safety."


    The knight''s legs began to falter, his body trembling uncontrollably as blood continued to stain his armor a deep crimson. Despite superhuman willpower keeping him upright, his limit was near. His lifeless eyes betrayed his exhaustion.


    "There''s no time, Your Majesty. You must flee¡­ now," he pleaded with his final strength. As the last words escaped him, the knight collapsed. His knees buckled, and his blood-soaked body crumpled to the floor.


    But even this pitiful end failed to move Maximilian. The emperor frowned in irritation, muttering under his breath, "Damn fool. Who did you think you could protect in that sorry state? You should have brought at least one able-bodied man with you."


    Grumbling, Maximilian hurried to a massive wardrobe on the far side of the room. Ornately decorated to suit his imperial tastes, the wardrobe was crafted from black ebony wood and adorned with golden engravings and glittering jewels.


    Inside, an array of finely embroidered silk garments and fur-lined robes hung neatly. The emperor snatched the first piece of clothing within reach. Regardless of the urgency, an emperor couldn''t flee in disgraceful nudity.


    As he hastily dressed, his thoughts raced to the palace''s hidden escape routes. The ancient palace of Famillian was riddled with secret passageways, but their abundance was no guarantee of safety. Both Oswald and Mufasa were likely familiar with most of them and had probably sealed off key exits.

 Chapter 240 - 240 Help Me, Ancestors

    While Maximilian dressed, his concubines, who had been observing the situation, rushed to his side. Sensing the gravity of the situation, they fussed over his attire, buttoning his shirt and straightening his sleeves, all the while glancing nervously at his expression.


    "Your Majesty¡­ please, take me with you. I don''t want to die," one begged, her voice trembling.


    "Your Majesty, I''ll serve you faithfully¡ªplease don''t leave me behind," another implored.


    The concubines clung to him, their hands trembling as they gripped his garments. They knew the fate awaiting them should the palace fall¡ªhumiliation and death at the hands of the rebels. But their desperation only annoyed Maximilian further.


    "Get off me, you foolish women!" he snapped, shaking them off roughly. "What happens to you doesn''t concern me."


    He kicked one of the women aside in frustration, her cries of pain falling on deaf ears. Even as they recoiled in terror, one of his favorites, her tear-streaked face framed by soft blond hair, looked up at him with pleading blue eyes.


    "Your Majesty, are you abandoning me too?" she whispered in the fragile voice he had once adored.


    Under different circumstances, her tearful appeal might have softened his heart. But now, his expression turned cold. Without hesitation, he drew his sword.


    Before she could scream, she fell lifelessly to the ground, her blood splattering across the chamber. The other concubines gasped in horror and scrambled away, their anguished cries echoing through the room.


    Maximilian sheathed his sword, retrieved the imperial insignia, and strode toward the door. Behind him, the concubines, paralyzed by fear and grief, clung to each other, weeping.


    The emperor hurriedly stepped into the corridor, his ears catching the clamor near the entrance to the inner hall. Amid the noise, the voice of his youngest son, Oswald, rang out.


    "Everyone, open your eyes! The emperor has been extending his life through forbidden sorcery. Have none of you noticed anything suspicious?"


    "Silence, Crown Prince! It''s disgraceful enough to have been captured by the enemy¡ªwhat kind of brainwashing have you fallen victim to?"


    "Brainwashing? Then, what about Chancellor Mufasa? Are you saying he''s been brainwashed as well? If the emperor is innocent, why would a man as wise as Mufasa betray him?"


    "Tch! That''s¡­"


    "Enough talk, Crown Prince! There''s no need to argue. The emperor is already a scourge upon the continent. Let''s just kill him!"


    "How dare you! Who is spewing such insolence?"


    As the trembling captain of the guard demanded to know, a white-haired, elderly knight stepped forward.


    "Me? I am Aaron, the former commander of the Celeste Empire''s Order of Knights. The emperor you''ve been serving has been accused of extending his life through forbidden arts. Now, step aside!"


    Listening to the exchange from the shadows, the emperor clenched his teeth in fury before retreating swiftly. A scourge upon the continent? That accursed Oswald! That damned Mufasa!


    Clutching the imperial insignia tightly, Maximilian quickened his pace. Only two choices remained to him now. He weighed his options carefully before settling on the one that would allow him to retain the throne and drive out the traitors. Determined, he sought out one of the palace''s hidden underground passages.


    Whether it succeeded or not, he had to try.


    The underground passage was dark and damp, but the faint sound of flowing water somewhere ahead brought a moment of relief. Tension that had gripped his chest began to loosen, and a small sigh of relief escaped him. Despite the oppressive air of the subterranean tunnel, Maximilian felt a flicker of hope.


    As he pressed onward, an underground canal came into view, winding its way through the passage. It was just as described in the records left by his predecessors. Thick stone walls, carved from bedrock, were now overgrown with moss, and the water glimmered green where it touched the stone. Above, ancient stone arches soared, casting a solemn atmosphere over the scene.


    The water itself shimmered faintly in the darkness, illuminating the space with a soft glow. Along the narrow stone path beside the canal, rusty handles and remnants of old lantern hooks could be seen. In some places, magical lanterns still flickered dimly, serving as guiding lights.


    Maximilian, awestruck by the grandeur of the scene, paused briefly before raising his voice to call out. Deep in the heart of Famillian Palace, he invoked the secrets of the imperial bloodline.


    "Ancestors! Where are you? The nation you built is teetering on the brink of destruction. Please, help us!"


    His cry echoed through the underground space, reverberating against the stone walls. But the echo soon faded, leaving behind a silence so profound it felt as though all sound had been drained from the world. Maximilian scanned his surroundings anxiously.


    Suddenly, the calm surface of the water began to ripple. A silvery light emerged, growing stronger with each passing moment. The glow spread across the walls and ceiling, soft yet brilliant, and from the light, a colossal figure slowly took shape. S§×ar?h the N?velFire.n§×t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    Before Maximilian stood an enormous elephant, its body glowing with a pure white light. The gentle radiance flowed over its massive form, accentuating its muscles and skin. Intricate patterns, bearing the weight of time, were etched into its tusks¡ªpatterns unmistakably resembling the Famillian imperial crest.


    The elephant''s massive ears flapped slowly, its presence filling the space with a tangible weight. The air pulsed with a deep, rhythmic vibration with every movement, as if resonating with the power of the ancient being. It was the ancestral weapon that had allowed the imperial bloodline to rise above the mightiest tribes and claim supreme authority.


    Unlike Maximilian''s awe-stricken expression, the elephant''s gaze held a trace of irritation.


    [What is it? I told you not to disturb me unless it was absolutely necessary. I am in the midst of transcending my current state.]


    Maximilian, humbled before the semi-divine being, lowered his head in reverence. This ancestor, the last of the beastfolk lineage, had transcended mortality by partially severing his soul from the material plane.


    The emperor''s eyes gleamed with envy. Only those of pure beastfolk blood could achieve such a state. If he had been capable of using such methods, he wouldn''t be hunted as a pariah across the continent.

 Chapter 241 - 241 If He Had To Die, He Wouldnt Go Alone.

    "Ancestor¡­ I must beg your forgiveness. The crown prince is conspiring to usurp the throne," Maximilian began, his tone pleading.


    The elephant snorted and waved a massive trunk dismissively.


    [Enough! Another power struggle? I''ve warned you countless times¡ªI will not interfere in imperial disputes. Do you mean to insult me by dragging me into your petty squabbles?]


    A gust of wind, heavy with power, shook Maximilian to his core. He raised his arms to shield himself, his voice cracking with desperation.


    "No, it''s not like that! The crown prince has allied with outsiders to hand over the empire. Please, help us, Ancestor!" sea??h th§× Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    The elephant paused, its trunk still. After a moment of contemplation, it let out a huff, clearly uninterested.


    [No, that''s not sufficient reason. From what I see, you deserve the mess you''re in. Go and face your punishment.]


    Maximilian''s mouth fell open, his frustration threatening to spill over. Useless ancestor! He finally understood why previous emperors had filled their records with curses about this entity.


    Before he could argue further, the elephant raised a trunk.


    [Do not disturb my peace any longer. I will return you to where you belong.]


    With a flick of its trunk, the emperor vanished. He reappeared abruptly in his bedchamber, startling the concubines who let out shrieks of terror and huddled together.


    Maximilian laughed bitterly, his frustration spilling out as helpless mirth. Outside the chamber, the clamor of the rebellion had grown louder, now reverberating just beyond his doors.


    "This is the emperor''s chamber? Hah, he lived in quite the lap of luxury."


    "Well, let''s take him down and extract his forbidden arts."


    "Don''t forget, young Michael¡ªthose techniques belong to us."


    "Of course, gentlemen. Rest assured."


    Maximilian gritted his teeth. If he had to die, he wouldn''t go alone.


    Maximilian I paced restlessly within his opulent bedchamber, his steps betraying his mounting anxiety. The silk drapes adorning the walls retained their elegance, and the magical candelabras allowed no darkness to creep into the room, their flames burning bright.


    Yet the emperor''s heart was sunk in utter despair. He chewed on his fingernails, his eyes filled with unease as they stared blankly into the void. The decision was made, but carrying it out would demand a terrible price.


    To summon "him," a sacrifice was required¡ªa substantial one. But where, in this dire situation, could he find an offering of adequate value? Fear and hatred clouded the emperor''s gaze, his eyes settling on the concubines huddled together, trembling.


    "Even if I sacrificed all of them, it wouldn''t be enough¡­"


    If the offering fell short, "he" would unleash his wrath. Fear of this being gripped Maximilian''s body and mind. He glanced at the gold-encrusted bedposts. The chamber, filled with lavish treasures, seemed meaningless in the face of his impending doom.


    "How dare they! To challenge me, the emperor...!"


    But rage served no purpose. His fate was already spiraling out of his control. His footsteps, treading the crimson carpet, grew increasingly agitated.


    Sighs and groans escaped him. As if his thoughts weren''t tangled enough, the sound of the concubines'' quiet sobbing grated on his nerves.


    "Can''t you shut up?" he snapped.


    These women, chosen from across the empire for their beauty and charm, were now nothing but an annoyance. The emperor hurled insults at them, his voice dripping with disdain. The concubines, with their soft skin and radiant eyes¡ªprized jewels in human form¡ªflinched under his fury, their delicate lips trembling as they tried to suppress their sobs.


    The luxurious dresses and glittering jewelry that once symbolized their status now seemed meaningless. Huddled together like frightened rabbits, they clung to one another, their pale fingers entwined as they silently prayed to escape the emperor''s wrath.


    Maximilian looked upon them with undisguised contempt. Their feeble attempts to make themselves inconspicuous only irritated him further. Even their shallow breathing, muffled in fear, grated on his nerves.


    With a face twisted by anger and hatred, the emperor approached the window. Outside, the noise of enemy forces grew louder, their triumphant roars echoing through the night. They were already discussing the spoils of their presumed victory.


    "Damn it¡­ the dogs from the Radiant Kingdom are here too," he muttered.


    Mixed with the sounds of combat were familiar voices¡ªvoices of the knights he had trusted his life to. They were now groveling to the enemy, mocking him, their emperor, with vile words to curry favor.


    Maximilian''s hands trembled with rage, his eyes ablaze with madness. Even the knights, whom he had unwaveringly trusted, had betrayed him. Consumed by his fury, he began to roar.


    "Treacherous, spineless scum! Have you forgotten your oaths of loyalty to me, your emperor? Bowing to foreign powers and turning against your master? Traitors, cursed flatterers!"


    There was nothing more he could do. The weight of betrayal and despair pressed down on him like a crushing boulder. The knowledge that there was nowhere to flee, no loyal followers to depend on, suffocated him.


    With eyes alight with insanity, Maximilian strode across the chamber. The dazzling light from the chandeliers couldn''t mask the shadow darkening his face.


    He paused before the fireplace, reaching for a hidden lever embedded in the wall above it. His fingers hesitated momentarily, the cold metal biting into his skin. Then, following the predetermined sequence, he turned the lever. A low rumble filled the room as the fireplace slid back, revealing a secret passageway. The massive wall creaked and groaned, the sound echoing ominously in the stillness of the chamber.


    Before him lay a passage leading to a hidden chamber. For years, it had been the sanctuary promising him eternal life and youth. Now, it resembled the gaping maw of a monstrous creature.


    Maximilian''s expression hardened. He turned to the concubines, who were trembling in fear, their faces pale. The women who once smiled sweetly and whispered soft words of comfort now cowered, their beauty marred by terror.


    He felt a twisted satisfaction at their fear.


    The air in the room grew tense, suffused with a palpable dread. At the same time, the protective barrier surrounding the chamber began to crack, faint lines spreading like a spider''s web.


    Maximilian drew a deep breath, suppressing his roiling emotions. His hand gestured toward the concubines, his expression demanding compliance.

 Chapter 242 - 242 The Ancient Evil God

    The women''s wide eyes, filled with terror, followed his every move. Their lips trembled, unspoken pleas hanging in the air. But the emperor was cold and unyielding.


    "Get in," he commanded, his voice devoid of emotion.


    The warmth that had once colored his gaze was long gone, replaced by a cruelty that stabbed into the concubines like daggers. With an impatient flick of his finger, he pointed toward the passage. The meaning was clear: disobey, and you''ll die.


    "Now!" he barked.


    Grabbing the wrist of the nearest concubine, he dragged her toward the passage. She whimpered like a frightened animal but stepped inside, powerless to resist. The other women followed, leaning on one another as they shuffled into the dark tunnel, their steps hushed by fear.


    Inside the hidden chamber, they sank to the floor, clutching one another in trembling silence. Their thin, shaking fingers sought solace in each other''s touch, but no comfort could be found.


    As their voluminous skirts spread across the ground, the women became aware of a horrifying truth. The floor beneath them was made of flesh. S§×ar?h the Novel?ire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    They stifled their screams, eyes wide with terror. The walls, too, were covered in the same grotesque, pulsing tissue. The living flesh quivered faintly, and dark droplets of blood seeped through the gaps, trickling downward.


    Maximilian I gazed upon the chamber, now consumed by the power of the ancient god, with an expression of twisted awe. To him, it was a masterpiece sculpted from human flesh and blood. Crimson masses protruding from the walls resembled the anguished faces of tortured souls, their twisted features occasionally emitting otherworldly wails.


    The concubines were frozen in horror, their eyes locked onto the grotesque scene before them. The stench of decaying flesh filled the chilly air, forcing them to stifle their gag reflexes as they covered their mouths. Each breath was laden with the sharp scent of blood, and the dampness seeping from the floor only heightened their terror.


    Each time the fleshy walls writhed, the women let out frightened whimpers, their bodies shrinking further into themselves.


    Maximilian observed them from the shadows, a satisfied smile creeping across his face. As he took a step forward, the concubines recoiled in fear, their trembling more pronounced. He grabbed one of them by the arm and dragged her forward. Powerless to resist, she quaked in his grip, tears streaming uncontrollably down her once-beautiful face, now twisted by terror.


    "Please¡­ please, spare my life, Your Majesty¡­" she begged, her voice filled with desperation. Clinging to his sleeve, she pleaded with a tearful voice, "I''ll do anything! I won''t cry anymore, I promise. Just spare me!"


    Her pleas fell on deaf ears. The emperor''s eyes were cold and unyielding, devoid of the slightest trace of compassion. The louder her cries grew, the more indifferent his expression became. Gripping her jaw firmly, he forced her face upward, staring into her tear-streaked eyes.


    "Stop crying already. Weren''t you the bastard daughter of Count Dudley?" he asked, his tone icy and detached.


    Shaking like a leaf, the concubine hesitantly nodded, hoping this connection might save her life. Her fragile hope was shattered the next moment as the dagger of betrayal pierced her chest.


    "Y-Your Majesty¡­ why¡­?" she gasped, her wide eyes brimming with disbelief and pain.


    Without a flicker of remorse, Maximilian tossed her lifeless body aside and turned his attention to the next. He selected those with noble lineage¡ªdescendants of the five great tribes whose bloodlines carried latent potential.


    As his manic laughter echoed through the chamber, Maximilian slaughtered his concubines one by one. His face, twisted with frenzy, reflected no hesitation. When he had finished, he inflicted deep wounds upon his own arms, letting his blood mingle with theirs. Streams of crimson trickled down his hands, pooling on the flesh-covered floor.


    With a grin that betrayed his madness, he invoked the one being he believed could save him.


    "You refuse to serve me as your emperor? Then all of you shall die!" he cried. "Oh, great god, I, Maximilian, offer my blood to summon you!"


    A cold wind howled through the chamber, now drenched in the blood of the emperor and his concubines. Eerie, rasping laughter filled the space, reverberating deep within Maximilian''s mind and sending waves of excruciating pain through his skull. Clutching his head, he gritted his teeth, his vision swimming from the unbearable agony.


    The chamber pulsed with waves of malevolent energy. The mingled blood flowed toward the center of the room, as if guided by an unseen force, pooling into a dark, viscous mass. The blood formed a thick, crimson veil, coalescing into the shape of a robed figure.


    As more blood was drawn into the growing form, the figure became increasingly distinct. Maximilian, now on his knees, prostrated himself before the entity.


    "Please¡­ grant me your strength!" he implored, his voice trembling with desperation.


    The unstable form wavered like liquid, its body shifting between shapes as if made entirely of blood. It seemed to sneer at his plea, its voice a low, mocking rumble that echoed eerily.


    [You think such a paltry offering can summon my power? It''s nowhere near enough.]


    The sinister voice splintered into countless echoes, each cutting into the emperor''s resolve. Trembling, Maximilian shouted in defiance, "I will give you the lives of everyone in this capital! I swear it by the sacred insignia of the empire!"


    He held up the imperial insignia, the ancient symbol of the empire''s power passed down through generations. The entity paused, its swirling form seeming to smile.


    [Ah, now that is intriguing. Still, it''s not enough. For me to intervene in the material world, I require far more.]


    The figure''s dark gaze bore into Maximilian, its presence a yawning abyss that seemed to pierce through his soul.


    [Now, tell me¡­ how much are you truly willing to sacrifice to achieve your desire?]


    Its voice was as cold as ice, chilling the emperor to his core. He clenched his bloodied fists, his mind spinning as he weighed the cost. The price was clear, but was the reward worth it?

 Chapter 243 - 243 The Radiant Kingdom

    After a moment of hesitation, Maximilian''s face hardened with determination. What choice did he have? If he were captured, his death would be humiliating and pointless. Better to drag his enemies down with him.


    "Take all of me¡ªmy blood, my flesh. I offer everything in exchange for vengeance!" he declared, his voice resolute.


    If there had been any alternative, he wouldn''t have unleashed such a terrible being. But the rebels had left him no choice.


    [Then the pact is sealed. So, you wish for the death of all those outside? How fortuitous¡ªthose are precisely the kinds of creatures I despise. Perfect.]


    The entity glided toward Maximilian, shedding its crimson robes to reveal a massive, shifting void. Within the abyss gleamed sharp, monstrous teeth.


    As the gaping maw consumed Maximilian, a wave of malevolent energy erupted, flooding the chamber. The ancient god, now wearing the emperor''s form, let out a triumphant roar that shook the air.


    "What a delightful world this is!" it exclaimed, its voice dripping with malevolence.


    The royal palace of the Pamir Empire, in stark contrast to the empire''s desolation, was famed for its breathtaking beauty. Silver spires soared into the blue sky, as if piercing the heavens, their intricate carvings gleaming under the sunlight with an air of majesty. Despite the sweltering heat, the well-tended gardens were filled with blooming flowers and countless fountains.


    The sheer number of fountains operating in the barren highlands of Pamir alone was a testament to the emperor''s extravagance. Yet, this beautiful palace was far from peaceful.


    The expedition stationed outside the emperor''s bedchamber trembled at the ominous energy that now engulfed the entire palace. What began as a faint disturbance radiating from the chamber had grown, spreading a sinister aura throughout the grand structure. Black shadows rippled and churned in the air.


    This dark energy carried with it the echoes of those sacrificed by the emperor¡ªwails of despair, pain, and terror interwoven with the remnants of the emperor''s own cries and fears.


    Michael, standing at the forefront, immediately understood what had transpired. The emperor had sacrificed himself completely to draw forth the power of the otherworldly god. The energy emanating now was among the strongest he had ever sensed¡ªsurpassed only by the first otherworldly god that had once possessed Michael''s body.


    The formidable warriors among the expedition fell silent, their faces grim as the oppressive aura deepened. The silver spires of the palace were gradually consumed by the growing shadows.


    "What is happening¡­?" one soldier whispered.


    "The emperor must be making his final desperate move," another replied, his tone heavy.


    Michael''s expression hardened as he shouted to the expedition, "Everyone, evacuate! The palace must not be destroyed!"


    The initially startled expedition quickly heeded his command, retreating in unison. They exchanged glances, their movements coordinated as they began to withdraw. They were confident in their ability to confront the ominous energy and emerge victorious, but not within the confines of the palace.


    After all, their prize¡ªthe very object they sought¡ªlay within the palace walls. If they fought here and the palace crumbled, it would be a pyrrhic victory, leaving them with nothing. Fighting outside would also give them the advantage of summoning aid from their magical beasts.


    Their footsteps were urgent as they descended the ornate marble staircases and passed gilded walls, now shrouded in darkness. They clicked their tongues at the sight of the once-pristine statues now tarnished by shadow.


    "Such a shame¡­ these beautiful works of art," one murmured.


    "Indeed¡­ such a waste of, er¡­ priceless beauty," another lamented.


    The expedition regrouped in a corner of the grand courtyard, the once-vibrant fountains now eerily silent. The absence of flowing water gave the scene an unfamiliar and foreboding stillness.


    The towering colonnades of the courtyard provided the expedition some cover as they prepared for the battle ahead. Knights in ancient armor sharpened their silver blades, while mages gripped their staffs, murmuring incantations in preparation.


    Anita tended to those injured during their skirmishes with the imperial guard, her gentle hands working swiftly. Beside her, Ismahal stood protectively, his gaze scanning their surroundings for any threats.


    Michael, maintaining his composure, called Marcus and Miaomiao to his side. "Do not attack unless absolutely necessary," he ordered. "We''ll wait and seize the opportunity."


    The seasoned warriors nodded in understanding, their expressions resolute. Marcus and Miaomiao, their curiosity piqued, approached Michael, their sharp eyes gleaming. The magical beasts also returned to their masters, nuzzling close for reassurance.


    All eyes turned toward the Radiant Expedition, now emerging from the palace. Their late arrival and opportunistic timing were a source of irritation to the other factions, but this time, they served as a convenient distraction.


    The warriors smirked subtly, suppressing their disdain. The Radiant Kingdom''s zealots had a reputation for rushing toward anything associated with otherworldly gods like mad dogs. Undoubtedly, they would launch an attack, saving everyone else the trouble.


    The sky darkened as the ominous energy enveloping the palace thickened, shrouding the entire city of Famillian in a suffocating veil. Terrified residents locked their doors and hid, their fear compounded by the eerie stillness.


    The blazing heat of the sun faded rapidly, replaced by a chilling cold that seeped into the air. A strange silence descended over the capital as black mist coiled and writhed around the palace, growing thicker with each passing moment. The flowers and grass that had adorned the gardens with vibrant colors withered in an instant, and the remaining water in the fountains turned an ominous black.


    A trembling vibration cut through the eerie stillness, signaling the arrival of something foreign and malevolent. Sear?h the n?vel_Fire.¦Çet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    At last, the doors of the palace creaked open, and measured footsteps echoed ominously. The figure that emerged was clad in regal splendor¡ªa gold-embroidered robe and a magnificent crown perched atop his head, radiating an air of nobility.


    Yet Michael, along with the other warriors, immediately sensed the truth. This was no emperor. The power emanating from the figure was unmistakably that of an otherworldly god, and the entity made no effort to conceal it.

 Chapter 244 - 244 The Radiant Expedition

    Among the Radiant Expedition, Oswald''s breath hitched. "That''s not my father!" he whispered in horror.


    Though the figure bore an uncanny resemblance to the emperor, Oswald knew without a doubt that it was not him.


    The god, now inhabiting the emperor''s body, raised its head and took a deep breath, relishing the cold, mist-laden air.


    "Ah, how delightful it is to inhabit a human body," it murmured, its voice resonating deeply.


    The sound alone was enough to drive ordinary men to madness and death.


    With a predatory smile, the god surveyed its surroundings, its gaze brimming with greed.


    The Radiant Expedition stood frozen, their nerves taut as they faced the overwhelming presence. Among them, an aged paladin''s trembling voice broke the silence. S~ea??h the Nov§×l?ire.n(e)t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.


    "A true otherworldly god¡­ it has descended," he whispered, his hand shaking as it gripped his sword.


    A younger paladin beside him replied with a mix of fear and defiance.


    "An otherworldly god? Why are you so afraid?" scoffed the young paladin, his voice dripping with youthful arrogance. "I''ve hunted down plenty of them before."


    The seasoned paladin shook his head grimly, his face pale. "That''s no ordinary otherworldly god. It''s a fully materialized entity, baptized into this world. You have no idea of their true power¡­ We must warn the commander immediately."


    Without waiting for a reply, the older paladin hurried toward the expedition''s leader. But Alejandro, nephew of the Pope and commander of the Radiant Expedition, was too blinded by ambition to heed any warnings. His eyes gleamed with excitement at the prospect of claiming victory over an otherworldly god, bolstering his reputation and bringing further glory to the kingdom.


    "Commander! We must retreat!" the elder paladin urged. "The emperor''s life extension was tied to this god¡ªthere are no forbidden secrets to claim! Leave this fight to the others before we suffer needless casualties!"


    Alejandro shoved the old paladin aside, his face twisted in anger. "What nonsense are you spouting, old man? Do you doubt the Radiant Expedition''s strength against a mere god? Get back in line!"


    His voice rang with inflated confidence and insatiable greed for glory. The veteran paladin''s warnings fell on deaf ears.


    "Commander Alejandro," the elder paladin tried again, desperation creeping into his voice, "this is not just any god. Rushing in without a plan will cost us everything."


    "Enough cowardly drivel! If my uncle hadn''t insisted on bringing you along, I would''ve dealt with you myself! A paladin of the Holy Radiance dares to speak such cowardly words?" Alejandro''s voice boomed with indignation.


    He had no intention of relinquishing what he believed was his moment of glory. Alejandro was fully immersed in his delusion of becoming a hero through this battle.


    The veteran paladin, watching the scene unfold, felt an overwhelming sense of dread. It was as if he were witnessing the inevitable downfall of the order he had served faithfully all his life.


    The otherworldly god, gathering its strength, glanced downward at the humans below. Its sharp mind assessed the situation.


    "Annoying," it muttered, narrowing its eyes at the group of powerful warriors lingering behind the paladins. "Best to avoid them."


    Among the humans, it noticed several formidable individuals, including two first-class magical beasts and a striking black-haired man who stared at it with unnerving intensity. The god averted its gaze, its thoughts flashing back to its days of imprisonment beneath the Pamir Empire''s palace.


    It remembered the day the continent''s strongest warriors united to hunt it down. The countless years spent sealed away in the darkness came rushing back, filling it with rage. Finally freed by the emperor''s desperate bargain, it now faced another potential confrontation with powerful adversaries.


    Cursing the emperor silently, it thought, If that wretched man were still alive, I''d make him suffer the most excruciating death imaginable!


    Yet, as it silently lamented its misfortune, the black-haired man stepped aside, seemingly granting the god a clear path. The god''s confidence returned. It realized that this group had no intention of engaging unless provoked.


    The paladins, however, were a different matter entirely. Their hostility was blatant, and they were already positioning themselves for an attack.


    "Well, this works," the god mused. "The emperor''s contract demanded I kill everyone in the capital, but there was no deadline. I''ll deal with these dogs first and handle the rest later¡ªone by one, after those strong ones leave."


    Straightening with a facade of grandeur, the god spoke, its voice dripping with mockery.


    "Ah, how convenient. So many pesky insects have gathered here."


    Its gaze swept over the Radiant Expedition with open disdain. Compared to the warriors behind them, the paladins posed little threat. The god''s eyes gleamed with contempt as the paladins tightened their formation.


    Watching from afar, Michael smirked. Like many others, he harbored resentment toward the Radiant Kingdom. Their opportunistic meddling was tiresome, but they came armed with the Pope''s insignia, claiming moral superiority. Pushing them away without causing political complications had been impossible.


    Yet now, they had foolishly walked into their own demise. Michael had no intention of intervening. This was a spectacle to be enjoyed.


    Meanwhile, Alejandro drew his sacred sword and shouted triumphantly, "Prepare yourselves! We will vanquish this evil and return with the emperor''s secrets. The Radiant Kingdom shall be stronger than ever, and the Pope himself will celebrate our triumph! Are you ready to embrace martyrdom?"


    The paladins, save for the veteran, responded with fervent cries.


    "Radiance! Radiance! Radiance!"


    Alejandro basked in their enthusiasm, his face alight with pride. "In the name of Radiance, smite the evil! Paladins, charge!"


    "By the light!"


    "For Radiance''s call, we shall be sanctified!"


    "Let there be light!"


    Brandishing their swords, the paladins charged forward, their voices ringing with chants of praise. Watching them, the veteran paladin wept silently, his wrinkled face etched with sorrow. Unable to abandon his comrades, he reluctantly followed.


    "Oh, Radiance¡­ why have you forsaken us?" he murmured, his heart heavy with despair.


    In a well-manicured corner of the imperial palace gardens, an unexpected argument had broken out. Observing the paladins charging toward the otherworldly god, one of the powerful warriors from the expedition casually spoke up.