Lire

Arc#5 Chapter 24: In and Out (3)

[Author's Note]

It's a bit late because I was too busy preparing for my flight and getting to my flight, but...

HAPPY NEW YEARS!

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Despite his surprise, Reivan maintained his cool and dipped his head lightly in a quick bow—just as any commoner would if their gaze collided with a prince's. And it was a good thing too, because the Argonian prince looked away the next moment.

Reivan maintained his stony expression while inwardly sighing in relief. Since his [Supreme Insight] had been "resisted", he thought that the Argonian would somehow be informed of where the "attack" came from. But that didn't seem to be the case, or at least the information wasn't clear. Because if it had been, the Argonian would have confronted Reivan about it.

'Prince Axion, huh...? I guess I'll keep tabs on what he does. Maybe even kill him if the opportunity presents itself.'

Not now, though.

If Reivan struck out and tried to assassinate Axion right this instant, he might succeed. But he would surely perish in the aftermath because he was far too deep within enemy territory and there were too many vanguards around. He would just get ganged up on by hundreds or even thousands of enemy warriors who weren't much weaker than him. It may have been a viable risk to take if the Samsara Forces were striking in tandem, but there was still quite a while before they were supposed to do so.

For now, he could only let the Argonian prince go.

'Now, about the people in the tent...'

Once all the important people left the tent, Reivan managed to catch a few smidgens of conversation from the servants within. They definitely spoke in Arkhanian, and it was with native accents that were difficult to fake. That, along with the short glimpses earlier, pretty much confirmed that there were Arkhanian captives within. Not a lot, though. From the faint footsteps, he counted a dozen or so—significantly fewer than the previous tents.

Just as he was internally debating whether to attempt a rescue now or wait until his allies struck, Reivan felt a distinct change in the atmosphere. It was subtle, but he felt that the area around the tent had grown quieter.

And that was when a feeling turned into conviction; he wasn't sure how exactly, but he'd been discovered.

'Fuck.'

Reivan turned around and ripped a hole through the tent with a quick swipe of his hand, summoning Zouros as he rushed inside. Dodging an arrow that came very close to piercing his head, he activated an aetherblade art that spread a deep dark fog out with him as the origin, hoping it would make things more difficult for his opponents to hinder his actions. The surroundings were quickly obscured, even spilling outside the tent through various gaps and the hole he'd made. With a heavy stomp, darkness unfurled from the soles of his feet, filling the entire tent and even affecting the area outside.

The fourteen Arkhanian ladies in the tent were unable to resist, losing consciousness as they were scooped up by a large snake with a maw big enough to fit three people. On the other hand, the Argonian vanguards outside suffered from dozens of shadowy hands grabbing at their legs and draining them of their energies.

With his targets acquired, Reivan launched sixteen swords outward, piercing straight through the tent and skewering one Argonian warrior each. Just as he burst out of one of the holes to escape the tent, he willed the swords to twist, churning the enemies' organs and snuffing out their lives once and for all.

‘I need to fire off the signal early.’

He would have really preferred to give the knights more time to rest, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards right now. It was a good thing that they agreed on a signal in case he didn’t have time to communicate through the dream crystal—which meant the situation was really urgent, because exchanging information through those things took practically no time.

The moment Reivan left the tent, he confirmed that he was, in fact, surrounded. Luckily, he could only sense a few hundred presences. That did not sound like he was lucky at all, but if a few hundred people were surrounding a large area, that meant they were spread too thin to lock down someone like him.

“There he is!” some Argonian said, alerting everyone. “Catch him!”

“You wish!” Reivan snarled as he summoned dozens of daggers and launched all of them as hard as he could. He couldn’t be bothered to aim them all properly, hoping some of them would connect.

With a light toss, he sent numerous activated spell balls outward, causing streams of myriad-colored lights to shoot up towards the cloud like fireworks on new years. Though some of the Argonians realized that he’d sent up some sort of signal, stopping the streaks wouldn’t help at this point—whoever needed to see them already has.

Capitalizing on the enemies’ carelessness, Zouros exploded out of the dark fog behind him, immediately growing to its maximum size to snap up a grand total of twelve people in one fluid motion. The presence of such a giant creature, seamingly from out of nowhere, caused an even bigger disturbance, but that would work in Reivan’s favor so he wouldn't complain.

Not holding back any more of his cards, a white wolf rushed out of Reivan’s shadow. On its head and gleaming proudly were three golden horns jutting out of its head to form what looked like a crown. With savage ferocity, it tore into enemy lines, easily overpowering anyone foolish enough to block the White King. Lightning surged throughout his body and zapped anyone coming near as frosty winds flooded the surroundings, chilling enemies down to their bones. Those unable to resist or move out of the way in time were ripped to shreds by razor sharp teeth or mauled by blade-like talons.

“He’s getting away!” someone cried out. “And he’s got two spirit beasts! Be careful!”

Easily getting out of the encirclement, Reivan made Zouros shrink to avoid being a larger target. The three of them then blew off tents and people in their path as they rushed northward. Though his serpentine companion could fly and grow big enough for him to ride on, doing so would only expose them to every single enemy in the camp.

It was better to stay low for now.

“Whoa there!” Reivan exclaimed as he jumped onto Dom’s back, ignoring the white wolf’s disgruntled grumbling through their mental connection. With the White King handling the movement and dodging anything dangerous, Reivan knew that he could focus on taking out enemies.

Sixteen blades reappeared around them and cut down any opponents strong enough to warrant death in their path, while he summoned a bow to take out enemies farther away. His flying fangs and arrows all met their marks, with a life being taken for every move.

Still, there were a lot of people chasing after him, and from time to time, a javelin or a spear would come very close to striking at his armor. And though he trusted his soul armament’s defensive capabilities, he didn’t want to test if it could block attacks to the head.

‘Zee! You can do the thing! We don’t really have the leeway to hold back right now!’

Zouros’ pitch black wings fluttered powerfully, sending countless black feathers drifting through their air as if they were utterly weightless. The seemingly harmless act caused many of the Argonians trailing behind them to pause, but some of the more courageous ones powered through despite the feathers.

Which was a huge mistake, because their bodies rapidly turned to stone, gradually spreading from various parts of their bodies. The more cunning ones thought that they simply needed to evade coming into contact with the feathers themselves, but this was a misconception that would cost them their lives.

The feathers were just conduits—not the source of the petrification.

Strange power emanated from the feathers slowly drifting in the air, relentlessly invading the bodies of any “enemies” nearby and turning them into stone sculptures, their expressions of fear frozen on their faces forevermore.

‘Good lord, Zee. I wouldn't wanna get on your bad side!’

Zouros let him know that it was very confused as to why he would ever get on its bad side, seemingly thinking that such a thing was impossible. Exasperated, Reivan resolved to teach his favorite snake more about humor and metaphorical expressions when they returned to Lageton. The petrifying feather move apparently tuckered it out, so he wouldn’t do it today.

Just in time, he heard the clamor of distant fighting farther up north, accompanied by tempestuous winds upturning the very earth itself and blinding flashes of lightning that struck down from the heavens like divine tribulation. Had he been late in blocking off his sensitive ears, he would have winced at how loud those thunderclaps were.

Clearly, his allies were very concerned with his well being and had stopped pulling punches. The chaos they were no doubt causing was headed for his direction at a tremendous rate.

‘Oh. Right.’

As he headed northward without letting anything stop him, Reivan inevitably came across the clumped together pink tents that he’d spotted earlier. Since his allies were close enough, he went ahead and entered one of the tents with a shrunken Zouros, knocked everyone out without explaining, then had his snake eat them all up—temporarily, of course. Meanwhile, Dom stood watch outside, mercilessly taking down anyone foolish enough to come close.

It was when he entered the third tent—the one in the middle—that someone burst out of the ground with their hand making a grab for his neck.

Reivan was already dodging it when Zouros’ maw snapped shut, right where the ambusher’s hand used to be.

“Well, now. That’s one scary spirit beast you got there.” A voice spoke from among the throng of frightened naked women.

Following the source of the voice, Reivan unconsciously licked his lips upon seeing that it was the troublesome prince from earlier: Prince Axion Argonia.

“So you found out about me after all…” Reivan muttered just loud enough for the other side to hear.

Axion smiled widely, his teeth bared like a lion finding a heart meal. “I’ve never experienced that before, so you’ve made quite an impression on me. Care to tell me your name?”

“Rather than my name, you should worry about yourself.” Reivan sneered under his helm, knowing the other side would never guess who he really was. Even if the Argonian could somehow see into a helm made by a soul armament, Reivan was still wearing the face of some imperial vanguard he killed earlier.

Still grinning confidently, Axion procured a decorated halberd from his spatial ring, swinging it around wantonly, without a care for the Arkhanian women cowering away in panic. “Why should I be worried? Is it because your allies are coming? If so, mine are coming too. In fact, mine should already be here.”

With a scoff, Reivan rolled his eyes even though he knew it was the truth. He could hear Dom growling and snarling in exertion from fending off his legendary battle. A single step forward spread darkness throughout the room, knocking out all the women and causing the Argonian to frown at the shadowy hands grabbing at is legs.

“You have strange abilities, knight.” Axion remarked, not caring about the captives that Zouros was now depositing into its mouth. “But they’re nothing much.”

The Argonian nonchalantly kicked the misty arms around his legs into nothingness before charging at Reivan like a charging bull.

Reivan activated all the buffs he could as he conjured a shield to deflect the enemy prince’s strike, stabbing forward with the sword in his other hand.

Surprisingly, the Argonian slapped the tip of the incoming blade away like one would to a gnat, redirecting its trajectory just before it buried its point into his neck. With merciless efficiency, Axon aimed a kick at Reivan’s exposed legs while pulling back his halberd for another strike.

‘What the hell…He’s as strong as me! Nobody human’s supposed to be as strong as me!’

With the combination of his half-ascendant physique, qi reinforcement, perfect magic power application, soul armament energy, and his [Beast Gate] ability, Reivan should have been unmatched by any other human in the mortal realm.

Now, if he was against a half-ascendant warbeast, with perfect magic power application and a soul armament, then he would concede. There was no way he could match a transformed warbeast in pure physical might.

But Prince Axion was a human, as far as he could tell.

‘That means he must have an ability similar to Helen’s that can boost his physical abilities… And if he’s matching me without a soul armament, then his special ability is better than Helen’s.’

Alternatively, the enemy prine might also have fully stacked [Malevolence], just like Valter did. Reivan would never know since the bastard was apparently resistant to [Supreme Insight].

All in all, Reivan designated Prince Axion as “extremely dangerous” and a prime target to get rid of as soon as possible. So much so that he was even willing to forgo the rest of the women he hadn’t saved yet if it would give him a better chance.

After all, the longer Prince Axion survives, the more lives would be lost.

The guy was not only difficult to assassinate without sending an entire group of knights, but the enemy prince seemed to have a decent head on his shoulders too, judging from the conversations Reivan heard earlier—just not a head capable of mercy, it seemed.

“Hm…” Axion flexed the fingers on the arm he used to block. “You are stronger than you look, knight.”

“Pitiful Argonian,” Reivan feigned confidence as he summoned his sixteen flying fangs, launching them toward the enemy at supersonic speeds. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Yet the Argonian swatted some away, using spear or bare palm, all while dodging the rest as if it were easy. With no civilians in the tent, Reivan didn’t hold back as much; the swords ripped up the tent in their attempt to get an angle on the enemy.

Sensing that the enemy was adamant about hindering him, Reivan sent blades of ice that ripped up the last two tents and sent Zouros toward the captives, who were pitifully too exhausted or injured to even huddle in the corner. Some of them weren’t even terrified by the developments, as if they'd already lost all sense of self-preservation.

As for knocking them out so they weren’t traumatized by the cosmic horror that was Zouros’ stomach, well, the giant black serpent with beautiful ebony wings could do that too. After all, Reivan’s ability to do so came from it in the first place.

Reivan just hoped it could control its draining powers enough not to instantly kill the women. Honestly, Reivan really wanted to do it himself but was too occupied.

‘It’s all because of this annoying nuisance.’

“Oh.” Axion smirked and nudged his head southward, where dozens of imperials caught up with him after circling around the feather-infested area. “Looks like my friends got here first.”

“Seems like it.” Reivan snorted, subtly noting his surroundings.

Dom was still untouchable, momentarily transforming into a gust of freezing wind, a bolt of lightning, or simply jumping into a shadow when he was in a bind. Meanwhile, anyone who let their guard down—and even some who were perfectly on guard—were rented asunder.

Meanwhile, Zouros was halfway into rescuing the unconscious captives.

Axion frowned when he saw the giant serpent. “I can’t believe it was even possible to essentially kidnap people like that. So that’s how you took away all the war slaves in the other tents?”

Reivan didn’t answer, but he inwardly cursed. Axion probably waited for him inside one of the remaining pink tents after noticing that whoever the intruder was, they were aiming to rescue the captives.

But that said, it wasn’t as if Reivan could do anything about that. What, was he supposed to fill it up with new slaves after rescuing the old ones? Even if he was going to walk down that idiotic route, where would he even get the new slaves from? He didn’t keep a stock of them inside Zouros’ stomach, that was for sure.

Noticing some of the Argonians who caught up to him moving to his blindspots, Reivan casually flicked his wrist, sending flying swords toward them. As expected of warriors lauded as Imperial Vanguards, they parried or evaded in time, having already seen him control weapons earlier.

Really, tricks weren’t as effective the second or the third time around. This was exactly why people more experienced than him kept on telling him to keep as many of his cards close.

‘Try this on for size, then.’

The flying swords that were parried, blocked, or avoided burst into a thick cloud of frosty mist that seeped through the gaps in his enemies’ armor and wormed through their pores to penetrate into their bodies.

Scream filled the air as steel shattered like glass and limbs snapped off. Some were unlucky enough for their heads to be the affected area, dying instantly without a chance to realize what happened to them.

These were the types of techniques he couldn’t ever use when sparring with an ally. Now, on the field of battle where enemies were aplenty, they were finally finding a use.

Axion scanned the surroundings with a somber grimace. “I suppose the veterans’ stories about knights weren’t overblown. You people really are monsters. We have elementalists too, but none who can do things like this with such ease. I commend you, knight.”

“Where’s all the confidence from earlier?” Reivan gloated a little, even though he knew it was a waste of time to exchange words with an enemy.

Though in his defense, he was waiting for Zouros to completely rescue all the captives and for his allied knights to arrive and help him get the heck out of this place. So maybe, for once, talk-no-jutsu was the best choice in a real-life situation.

“Ah, well.” Axion shrugged. “I’m just a little alarmed at the thought that there could be more of you. But at least I can kill one of you here.”

“You’re not lacking in confidence, at least. Where does it all come from, I wonder?” Reivan continuously eyed his surroundings for as many escape routes as possible. When outnumbered like this, the thing he had to avoid the most was getting surrounded without a way out. The only reason he wasn’t dead yet was because he managed to do this so well, capitalizing on his opponents’ surprise and the mysteriousness of his abilities.

If he stood still for too long and let them completely cage him in, he would eventually fall.

‘Hm. Zouros would finish in a few seconds, so he always had the choice of just taking off into the air.‘

He didn’t like it because his companion would likely get shot down in the process, but Zouros could always revive as long as Reivan survived. That was a lot better than both of them perishing here, at least, and Zouros was mentally endorsing the idea as he thought of it.

“You’re looking for a way out, I see,” Axion remarked, breaking Reivan away from his thoughts. ”A foolish assumption to make, thinking you can still escape.”

“Like I said,” Reivan scoffed. “Where is it all coming from? We are a match in pure strength but I exceed you in many ways. Even these warriors you’re so proud of are just fodder for me.”

“Where is my confidence coming from…?” Axion repeated, taking out what seemed to be a scroll of some kind. His fingers tightened around it, crumpling the ancient parchment and causing it to erupt into flames before quickly turning into ash.

Just as Reivan wondered what the hell that was about, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He immediately hopped on Zouros—who had finished rescuing all the hostages—and had his long-time companion soar into the sky. Dom, taking the hint, returned to his soul in the middle of mauling someone.

Not one to waste an opportunity, he threw up several spellballs that sent signals upward to mark his location, just in time for thousands of espers to rise up from the earth and chase after him. Their ghastly faces were twisted in malice as they pursued, much faster than any other espers he’d faced in the past.

‘What the fuck!’

Afraid that Zouros was too big a target, he had the giant serpent shrink to the thickness of a horse. Unfortunately, length was not so easily adjustable, so just as he feared, some of the espers caught up and grabbed onto its tail. He couldn’t tell from their faces, but they seemed to be making an effort to pull Zouros back, though it wasn’t working very well.

They did, however, steadily climb their way toward him, forcing Reivan to engage them while his thighs clamped on for dear life.

“Fuck!” Reivan jerked his head to the side in time to dodge a javelin, cursing as he remembered how lauded legionary throwing arms were.

It went without saying that vanguards, their direct upgrades, had good throwing arms as well. He just wished the reminder didn’t come at the cost of almost losing his head.

Annoyed at all the flies buzzing around it, Zouros turned its head back to suck in dozens of them into the void that was its mouth.

Unfortunately, this made Zouros slow down a little.

“No!” Reivan yelled in frustration as hundreds of javelins aimed for Zouros.

Quickly, he conjured dozens of floating shields to stop some, but under the rain of javelins, the shields were either blasted away or shattered. Though he could reform them, it created enough of an opening for some of the javelins to bury themselves into Zouros’ body, penetrating through layers of obsidian scales.

Zouros hissed in a mix of anger and pain, yet that wasn’t the end.

As the vanguards on the ground readied another volley, a spectral horde of espers grabbed anywhere they could on his serpentine companion. He would have liked to escape their grasp by having Zouros and himself turn into a cloud of black mist like they would against normal opponents, but espers were ethereal. 

The fuckers could grab the two of them out of the technique.

Predicting its impending doom and apologizing for its mistake, Zouros gave up on defense. It enlarged to its full size and inhaled as much of the espers as it could. They were numerous, too many to count, but being a world-devouring serpent meant something, even if it wasn’t an Archon.

‘Son of a bitch… Zee, I’ll see you later!’

Zouros’ massive form protected him from the javelin volley. And even when he could feel the familiar loss of something in their connection, the halfway ethereal serpent’s body didn’t disappear until the volley ended.

When it did, Reivan free-falled to the ground. There were still some errant espers that had somehow escaped the void of Zouros’ stomach, but he could easily deal with those. Espers could only attack by going into melee range, after all, so all he had to do was wait for the scattered bastards to come to him.

Just as he thought that, he felt another chill run down his back. That was when he became aware of the familiar sound of something breaking the sound barrier. He followed it to the source to discover a lone javelin flying toward him. This one was thrown with much more force than the other ones, and he could already tell that a certain overconfident Argonian prince did it.

‘This bastard actually waited until the final moment to snipe me!’

Reivan was annoyed, but inwardly praised his enemy. Not everyone had such a sharp presence of mind. With a grin, he conjured a shield to kick against, redirecting his falling trajectory. He did this a couple more times so he would fall farther north, toward his allies.

But his grin fell off and his eyes narrowed when he noticed the casual shift in the javelin’s own trajectory.

‘What the hell is up with that thing!?’

In a bit of a panic but still moving with precision, Reivan conjured more shields to redirect his trajectory, but every time, the incoming javelin continued to adjust itself.

Eventually, he gave up on dodging and resolved to block the projectile, deflect it, or at least let it strike a non-lethal area. There was the option of turning into an element just as the attack connected, but as soon as he considered that, his spine chilled again—most likely, Axion had used a technique similar to the one that knights used when facing ethereal opponents.

Biting his lip and swearing to himself that he’d get his revenge for this, Reivan formed a column of conjured shields in the javelin’s path to slow it down or at least weaken it.

His plan was shattered when the thing just swerved out of the way though. Gritting his teeth, he crushed numerous defensive spellballs with [Formless Will] and conjured a long warhammer. Then he activated as many aetherblade arts as he could to empower his swing, striking the javelin’s body just before it struck him, hoping to redirect it forcefully.

Reivan’s heart dropped in horror when the thing didn’t even budge. Before the pain could rebound from his arm all the way to his shoulder, the damned javelin broke through all the barriers surrounding his body as if they didn’t even exist.

‘Are you fucking Cu Chulain or something!?’

Gritting his teeth, Reivan shifted his body just enough for the javelin to pierce his left shoulder. It drilled through everything in its path, be it steel or bone. Only a few sinews of muscle near where his armpit used to be attached his left arm to his body, but that didn’t last long.

Reivan held back a grunt as he grabbed his arm out of the air and stored it into his spatial ring. Growing back an arm was significantly harder than reattaching it, even when a bunch of flesh was missing.

Also, being the same arm he’d used for nineteen years in this world, he’d grown quite attached to it.

‘Heh. Attached. Hehehe. I’m so dumb.’

Filling his head with anything but bad things, Reivan made sure the javelin wasn’t preparing to come back and finish him off. Thankfully, the sharp end had seemingly disintegrated after mutilating him beyond natural repair. A cautious glance toward where that asshole was supposed to be told him he got blown away too far for them to attack him with throwing weapons.

With his only remaining hand, he took out his dream crystal, asking his allies for help. He could have landed on the ground by himself somehow, but why do that when he could do it more gently with a [Wind] attribute knight’s help? There were plenty of them here.

Before he could procure a spellball to signal where was, Reivan felt someone grab him by the scruff of his neck. He wasn’t surprise to see that it was Helen. Though he couldn’t see her face through that blood-splattered helm of hers, he was happy to see her.

Reivan laughed awkwardly as he looked at his missing arm and his wife, who was no doubt giving him a death glare at the moment. 

“See? What’d I tell ya? In and out. Worked like a charm.”

Arc#5 Chapter 23: In and Out (2)

If Reivan was being honest, the smell inside the pink tent got to him before the visual shock did.

Even he couldn't deny that he was a bit of a degenerate who liked indulging in the pleasures of the flesh. That's why despite him not wanting to, he was familiar with how his own semen smelled. And even the "fresh" stuff smelled obnoxiously awful to him. Despite his lovers' apparent lack of aversion to it, the smell of his own jizz caused him to gag—which, when he thought about it, might be a magnified reaction caused by his sharp sense of smell.

But one could get used to everything. Especially one's own odors. It was why people with bad breath or smelly sweat never really noticed until someone told them or unless the smell got so bad that it bypassed their defense against their own smell. At some point, as long as it wasn't a few inches close to his face, he could somewhat ignore it the same way he didn't really mind his own sweaty odor right after training.

'Today's a bad day to have a functional nose.'

Reivan shut his mouth shut and covered it with his hand to stop himself from wasting food. The abhorrent stench filling the interior of the tent made his eyes water from how putrid it was. It was so intense that he felt as if he could see the fumes. Never in his two lives was he ever curious about what days-old semen smelled like, but he unfortunately knew now. There was blood, sweat, and other things mixed in too, making one of the most rancid combinations of smells his nose had ever been cursed with.

It was only slightly inferior to how the Outlands smelled. And that was really saying something.

Once he recovered from the temporary mutilation of his nose, Reivan finally got to fully take in how disgusting certain aspects of war were. Women without a speck of clothing were strewn about as if they were discarded pieces of trash, with some piled on top of others. Their arms were tied together but their legs were unrestrained, likely for more heinous reasons. The Argonians hadn't even given them the dignity of wearing rags, letting them lay languidly across the dirt as naked as the day they were born. Their white Arkhanian skin was marred with soil, sweat, and presumably, dried semen. He could even spot a few who had bloody lips and bruises all over their bodies, likely a consequence of resistance.

Some raised their head slightly in response to his entry, only to shiver in fear at what he might do to them. Meanwhile, some didn't even react, their blank eyes staring mindlessly off into space.

If there was any consolation, it was that the inside only had lanterns for illumination. So the hundred or so ladies pitifully crammed into the tent were spared from truly seeing what was happening all around—though this did not help them with what was happening to them.

"Huh?" the older legionary that Reivan had seen earlier looked up in surprise at his sudden entry, pulling one of the cleaner women to one corner of the tent. "Who're you?"

Reivan casually flicked his hand, not even gracing the man with an answer. A skewer appeared out of nowhere and shot straight through the man's skull, killing him instantly. Just as the younger legionary realized what was happening, his head snapped a hundred and eighty degrees before his body fell to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

The women that the two legionaries were about to rape squealed in shock at the unexpected bout of silence, and so too did the others. Some women remained impassive though, and Reivan feared that they were already dead—or worse, mentally broken beyond recovery.

"I'm here to get you out of here," Reivan spoke clearly in Arkhanian, immediately proving that he wasn't one of them. After all, none of the men who ravaged them likely took the time to learn the republic's language. "I'm very sorry that I don't have time to explain. But know that when you wake up, you'll be in a safe place."

Not waiting for a response, darkness spread from his feet and filled the tent's interior. A second later, all the women lost consciousness when their stamina was drained past a certain point.

'Zee. Help me out here, bud. Do the thing.'

In response to his mental plea, a serpent manifested into reality and became big enough to just swallow a few people at a time. Its body almost entirely filled the tent, but that was fine. The massive serpent deposited the girls into his stomach two or three at a time, keeping them safe and allowing Reivan to take them with him when he escaped the camp. Making them lose consciousness first wasn't him being cruel though, he just didn't want them to see whatever cosmic horror was inside a World-devouring Serpent.

Even Reivan didn't know what was truly like inside that place. And Zouros advised him not to let his curiosity get the better of him.

Without even asking him, Zouros ate up the two legionaries' bodies. These wouldn't be treated with the same level of care as the captive Arkhanian women, that was for sure.

'Oh. That must be the ones that were mentioned earlier.'

Among the unconscious women were a few that still did have their clothes on. They stood out as being a lot more attractive than the others, and they were obviously from the richer end of the spectrum. The ones who caught them must have realized that too and kept them "untouched" for the lords to taste first.

Reivan noticed that one of them had a familiar shade of crimson hair and he momentarily blanched. He turned her face toward him with [Formless Will] and sighed when he discovered that she wasn't anyone he knew. But that relief made him feel a trace of disgust for himself even though he knew that he wasn't truly at fault.

Once the job was done, Reivan gave the snake's snout a hearty pat. "Good work. Now, let's see if I can find the other tents. Don't sleep, alright? I might need your help."

Zouros flicked its tongue in acquiescence, returning to his soul. Being an entity that could turn invisible to everyone but him and presumably spirit beasts, it would have been the perfect scout in this situation.

But Argonia had way too many mysterious powers. Reivan didn't know if the empire had any ways of detecting spiritual entities. The republic and the empire were in constant conflict, after all, so it wouldn't even be that strange if the latter did have a method to do so.

He was already taking a lot of risks by infiltrating the enemy camp. Adding more risks to that seemed incredibly unwise.

Especially now that he had more than a hundred women in his "pocket" who would get recaptured if he got caught.

'Should I go back first, or...'

After a moment of thought, Reivan decided to keep going for now. Nobody knew that an entire tent full of captured women had just been emptied out, so the other pleasure tents wouldn't be on guard. If he came back for another day, however, he might not have such an easy time extracting the girls.

Just as he was about to come out of the tent, he heard footsteps gradually headed in his direction. He immediately sunk into one of the shadows.

"Where in the plowing hell are the guards...?" someone said from outside. A moment later, the tent flapped as a legionary entered, together with three other legionaries and five young women—who, thankfully, were clothed and clean, if not for the obvious signs of being struck in the face. "Huh!? Where are all the other girls in this tent!?"

"Maybe they got moved to another one?" another legionary offered.

"Imbecile. We came here because all the other ones were full to the brim. Even the guards couldn't stand the smell. Plowing knights, attack so often that we don't have time to wash the slaves. Even I wouldn't put my dick in any of those."

"That's true... Then where could the ones over here be?"

Reivan materialized right behind the men, his soul armament mimicking the armor of a vanguard. "What the hell are you louts doing here?"

The four legionaries, and the five women all reacted in surprise, turning around to see someone appear seemingly out of nowhere. Smiling sheepishly, the first legionary dipped his head in respect. "Warrior. We were sent out to re-scavenge anything we could use from the towns we'd already raided. There, we found stragglers. The men and kids have already been sent to the motherland while the elderly have been fed to those monsters."

Another legionary continued off. "These women, on the other hand, looked pretty enough so we wanted to have our lord have a taste first but they're still injured. We were told to keep them in one of the tents for now and to instruct the guards not to touch 'em before the lord recovers and has the first turn."

"Oh?" Reivan raised a brow. "And I'm supposed to believe that you haven't tried these ones yet?"

Snickering, the legionary answered with a grin. "We may have copped a feel, but that's all."

"Is that so..." Reivan hummed in thought before asking. "Remind me again, how many tents like this one are in the camp? I only just got here and don't know my way around yet."

The legionaries seemed confused, but the one closest to him still answered. "Uh... There are a dozen or so, warrior."

"And where are the others? Can you tell me so I can visit them?"

"Eh, well... I'm not quite sure where all of 'em are, but we visited five in the northern part of the camp..."

"Heard anything about where all the others are?"

"Uh, warrior... You're asking some questionable things..." The legionary's gaze finally turned suspicious as he backed away. "My apologies, but could you tell me what division and regiment you're part of?"

Reivan clicked his tongue, realizing that the jig was up. With a casual wave, the four legionaries also had their necks snapped like the two he'd killed in the tent. He then rushed to pull the girls into the tent and undid his transformation, shocking them. "I'm here to help you all."

"You're Arkhanian...?" One of the girls gasped, a charming young blonde presumably in her late teens.

"Uh, no..." Reivan pointed at his silver hair a bit sheepishly. "You may have heard about me. I'm Reivan Aizenwald..."

"Ah! You're right!" exclaimed another woman. "I remember him from the papers."

"Yes, yes. That's me." He nodded, relieved that they actually recognized him. It would have been fatally mortifying if he acted famous only for them to not know. "Anyway, I'm here to take you girls out of here. Preferably, everyone who was captured. But I don't know where they're all being kept for now. If you know anything, I'd appreciate you telling me..."

The girls glanced at each other before telling him what they knew. Sadly, all they had to offer wasn't very helpful, and most of it had been revealed by the now-dead legionaries anyway.

Still, Reivan thanked them and cut off their restraints. Especially since they had to relive what was most likely the scariest moments of their lives. "Thank you very much for your help. Now, don't be surprised. You'll lose consciousness and wake up somewhere safe, alright? I don't really have time to explain everything right now."

Before confusion fully set in, the five young women were knocked out and deposited into Zouros' belly. He then ran out of the tent and sunk into the shadows, careful to avoid any light.

'The north... I'm pretty sure I'm in the eastern area right now.'

It was actually quite convenient for him that his only known targets were in the northern part of the camp because Samsara's forces were stalking the imperial army from the southeast. Even now, knights kept on harassing the army, serving as an excellent diversion for his covert actions.

Just as a precaution, he picked off some isolated legionaries and peasant levies, interrogating them in not-so-gentle ways. But the levies knew next to nothing even though they gave in quickly, while the legionaries preferred death.

'If nothing else, I have to praise their soldiers' loyalty. But it's not helping me right now.'

In the end, he gave up on obtaining the locations of all the tents through interrogation. He would find the five tents supposedly in the northern area, save the girls, and then see how things played out from there. In situations like these, he had to be decisive. Otherwise, he'd lose more lives.

Once he reached the northern area, Reivan had a pretty easy time finding the tents. Three of them were fortunately right next to each other. The other two were crowded, seemingly "under heavy use".

Unfortunately, the situation didn't allow him to do much.

The three pink tents adjacent to each other also had guards. While each only had two, they were within eyesight of the others. So he would instantly be discovered if he took any out. Sneaking in wouldn't work because he'd be noticed by the guards outside, and it was already established that he couldn't kill those.

Meanwhile, the crowded tents were, well, too crowded. He would inevitably let some of those slip or scream for help. Furthermore, the only ones allowed to peruse the captive women were imperial vanguards, so it wouldn't be easy for Reivan to slaughter dozens of them without the guards outside noticing. Maybe it was possible to take out a few dozen with a large-scale elemental art but that would be akin to lighting a flame in the darkness—he would be swarmed by vanguards within seconds.

'Guess there's no way to do this subtly.'

Reivan hid in a corner and took out his dream crystal. He telepathically sent forth the information he'd found and ordered the knights to assault the northern portion of the camp. Naturally, they would have to penetrate deep and fast, so he could help secure the area and extract the prisoners.

Gwen quickly responded, scheduling it for about two hours later. The knights had just performed multiple strikes and needed to rest for a bit before they could perform to the best of their abilities. A lot of the homunculi were actually stationed nearby in anticipation of a rear attack, so the knights were going to have a really hard time. They needed all the strength they could spare.

Naturally, Reivan agreed. Even though he pitied the women, he didn't want any of the knights to die. Especially not in a rushed rescue attempt. After all, every knight dead would lower their overall ability to help, thereby lowering the number of lives they could actually save.

Some of the captive women were being ravaged, yes. But at least they were alive. With any hope, they could recover from their horrible experiences.

'Oh, right. Should have just asked her to scout for me in the first place.'

Reivan also asked Gwen to send someone capable of flight to mark down any pink tents in the enemy camp. And it didn't take long to receive an answer.

The image of a map was pushed into his head, where the five tents that he'd already discovered were marked along with the one he'd cleaned out. Thankfully, that wasn't all because there were six other points spread out around the camp.

Five more were at the west and they were thankfully separated from each other. The last one, unfortunately, was very close to the center—likely a tent filled for nobles to use.

'But then why did one of the lords send for a legionary to fetch a girl from the lone east tent? Did the legionary not know about the tent in the middle? Or is the tent at the center only available for really important lords or something?'

There were many questions, but Reivan decided on a plan of action. Before the forces of Samsara recovered their strength and assaulted the northern section of the camp, he had to clean out the other six.

'I'll go for the five in the west sector first. Then see if I can do something about the one at the center...'

His route decided, Reivan took a deep breath and glanced at the stars above before running off.

════════════════════════════════

Surprisingly, the western section's pleasure tents were very easy to liberate.

It may have been because he got lucky, but there weren't many vanguards nearby. And not many vanguards meant not many had the clearance to be anywhere near the captives. Reivan took out the guards one by one and extracted the girls the same way as the first one. Just like that, he managed to free five tents worth of captives within thirty minutes.

'Now's the hard part.'

Because priests were concentrated in the center along with the nobles, the security was far too tight. There were no shadows to speak of, with corners and blindspots minimized to an obsessive degree. Clearly, the empire was used to dealing with [Darkness] attributed knights infiltrating their base. They had just gotten careless on the first day when Xander blew up their supplies.

Luckily, Reivan had other options. He disguised himself as an Imperial Vanguard patrolling the area. There were other Vanguards doing the same thing, and they would give him a look before nodding in greeting. He would do the same and continue on as if it was business as usual.

He found the pink tent easily enough, but even from afar, he realized that it was different from the others.

First off, it had a lot more guards.

Second, when some people entered it, the momentary gap in the tent flap gave him a peek at the interior—which was decidedly not filled with a bunch of naked women. Instead, the inside of the tent seemed more like a meeting room or something. That said, he still glimpsed a few scantily clad women seemingly serving drinks inside.

'I guess they were dressed up to serve lords...? Either way, this one's going to be tricky.'

One advantage he had was that he didn't need to be as discreet with this one. The five northern tents would be secured by the knights, so he didn't need to worry about them anymore. This also meant that Reivan could be more forceful with his methods as long as he could still escape to the north afterward.

"It's gonna be tricky..." he muttered to himself.

As he idly continued along his patrol route—which he copied from someone else—one of the vanguards guarding the pink tent suddenly flagged him down. Though he was a bit reluctant, Reivan dutifully walked up to the man and scanned for any armor decorations that would set them apart. There didn't seem to be any, so the Argonian was likely at the lowest rank among the vanguards just like the guy Reivan was disguised as.

"Are you the guy replacing me for guard duty?"

"No," Reivan answered after a while. He wasn't even sure where this guy was guarding. "I'm supposed to patrol through this route."

"Plowing heavens..." the vanguard cursed under his breath. "Well, can you take over for me then? I've been guarding the command tent for hours. I was supposed to swap out with someone, but the plowing sack of crap hasn't come to relieve me yet."

'Probably because they're one of the guys I killed.'

Reivan hummed in thought as he pointed at the large pink tent. "That command tent, right?"

The vanguard frowned. "Yeah. There ain't no other command tent, now is there?"

"Was just making sure they didn't set up a new one because of the attacks." Reivan made up an excuse and shrugged. "Those plowing knights haven't given us a rest these days."

"Ain't that the truth," The Argonian chuckled, losing his suspicion. "Well? You up for it? I'll just inform the overseer that I had one of the patrols swap with me. Then I'll hunt down the slacker that was supposed to be here..."

Reivan groaned but internally pumped his fists. "Sure thing. I don't mind. But I better not get in trouble for this."

The vanguard laughed, playfully punching Reivan's arm. "Thanks! Oh, what's your name, by the way? So I can tell the overseer."

"Axi. Name's Berikal," he said. It was the name of an imperial vanguard he slew. Specifically, the one who used to own his current appearance.

"Berikal... Alright. Thanks. I'm Valdi and you don't worry about anything. All you gotta do is stand there and look imposing. You don't even get sent off to the front lines if the camp gets attacked again."

With a final wave, the imperial vanguard went off to who knew where, leaving Reivan alone to stand in the middle of the path. Fully immersing himself in the role, Reivan walked over to the spot that had been previously occupied by the vanguard named Valdi. Unfortunately, said spot wasn't near the entrance of the tent, but rather, somewhere to the side. Vanguards were safeguarding the tent from all sides, and he was just one of many now. His colleagues didn't seem up for a chat though, so he just went along with it and stood there like a statue.

'I think I can hear inside...'

No matter how prepared they were, it was very hard to completely fortify any location within a single day—and that was with stable structures. A camp with only tents wasn't even a possibility unless the tents themselves were enchanted—and to enchant such a flimsy material, Ascendants had to be the ones to do it. With that being impossible, the tent was perfectly ordinary and didn't guard very well against eavesdropping. Reivan had even examined it with [Supreme Insight] just to be sure.

Strangely, there was a cold air seeping out from the tent's lower gaps, presumably to counter the uncomfortable heat. And when he thought about it, Reivan realized that the temperature wasn't that bad even outside the tent. It hadn't been bad even at the first pink tent he came across, even though it was still probably near forty degrees.

'It doesn't seem like elementalism though. So they must have some other way to counteract the heat.'

He'd mostly ignored it until now, but he wondered how the imperials did it.

"The lords are growing anxious," a deep voice rumbled from within the tent, barely audible through the gaps. If Reivan wasn't half warbeast, he may not have heard at all.

"Let them be, Axion," another male voice said. This one seemed a little younger. "They were the most insistent on a coalition, first to argue over who gets the land, first to demand loot and women... Yet when the knights come knocking, they are also the first to suggest retreat. The nerve of them. We should have just gone by ourselves. It's not as if their levies and the pitiful number of vanguard-level warriors they brought along make a difference. They're just slowing us down and consuming what little food we managed to hide away."

"Now, now..." Axion chided, sounding amused. "While I don't disagree, we must throw them a bone sometimes. If they suffer catastrophic losses here, they will be more reluctant to insert themselves in any of our future campaigns. Besides, they have thankfully taken it upon themselves to fulfill all the grunt work. They've absorbed much of the pressure from the knights as well—even with all the vanguards we've lost, it is still much less than we predicted thanks to the sacrifices of the levies."

A new voice, that of a woman, spoke out this time. "We have shed plenty of legionary blood as well. They are seeds who strive to become vanguards and they are dying by the hundreds. Furthermore, though we still have months worth of supplies to maintain our core forces, the supplies lost in the initial ambush are still a big blow. If we wish to muster another campaign under this coalition, then it'll take us many more months before we can gather the required supplies. I'm sure the other coalitions are doing much better. I've heard they're about to take over all the western provinces of Arkhan. This campaign... is a failure."

More voices voiced their agreement as Reivan digested the information.

'There are other armies like this one. And this army still has food hidden somewhere... Probably in a few spatial storage artifacts.'

"So is that it?" the unnamed man from earlier chortled condescendingly. "We just... fall back. Like cowards? Sent home crying by the big scary knights. Is that it? That's what you all want to be known for? We'll be a laughing stock!"

There was silence before Axion cut through it with pragmatic words. "Better shamed than dead. Honor can be reclaimed. But a life? I don't think so, unless you consider becoming a revenant viable."

"And what would you suggest we do? You've been acting like the coalition's commander from the start. Any bright ideas, then?"

"A few," Axion said. "But before I share mine, I'd like to know what you all have to contribute."

The woman who had spoken up earlier cleared her throat. "You gathered all the espers that the ancestor gave us. What has come of that endeavor? Still nothing?"

"Unfortunately, nothing much." Axion chuckled sheepishly. "The ones I sent to Lageton, Aizen's main foothold on the continent, were all taken out somehow."

"All of them?"

"All of the ones that managed to infiltrate the city, yes. I still have others around the area, riling up volcanoes for us."

A new man's voice cut in. "And how is that going?"

Axion was silent for a moment before he sighed. "Unfortunately, they're dealing with the situation easily enough. At this point, I really have to hand it to them—those knights are monsters."

"We are against those monsters," another man said. "So I'd appreciate it if you could stop praising them so much. You've been doing it for days. It's fine if it's just us, but it'll lower the morale for others."

"On the contrary, I think acknowledging the strengths of our enemies is the first step to defeating them."

"Bah." The first man that had spoken from a while ago scoffed. "You talk a big game, but you've wasted all of our espers. Not just yours, but ours too?"

Axion chuckled. "Tsk tsk tsk. Relax, the only espers that got taken out were mine. Yours are still alive. As I said, some are hiding around Lageton to pin down some of the kingdom's forces. Others have infiltrated all straggler communities along our army's path. Even if we retreat, they might be able to infiltrate Lageton just by living among the Arkhanians. That'll make our future campaign easier. We even found a hidden settlement the other day because an esper managed to infiltrate the community."

The knowledge that their own personal troops weren't taken out seemed to calm the general atmosphere within the tent. The discussion became much more productive after that.

"So retreat is really the best option here?" a man asked.

"Yes, unfortunately," Axion said. "Honestly, the only reason why I rushed the formation of our temporary coalition is because I was hoping that Aizen would be too busy to pay attention to us. They're attacking the motherland itself too, as you all know. Arkhan isn't the only war front. Not to mention how they've apparently absorbed most of the Spirit Tower."

"Unfortunately," the woman said with a somewhat tired voice. "They saw it coming. We managed to take over quite a bit of land, but our coalition alarmed our competitors, encouraging them to form their own coalitions. Except theirs will be much more successful because they're far away from the knights."

'Wait a minute... It almost sounds like there are other groups vying for supremacy in Arkhan other than the kingdom and the empire...'

Reivan stood ramrod straight like a statue as he tried to process what he'd heard. That's when he caught sight of multiple flags all around the camp and things finally clicked into place.

'The empire's purpose with the treaty is to create an environment of strife so he could raise capable people.'

Specifically, the War God wanted to raise heroes. But perhaps he also planned to use the chaos to raise a leadership figure as well. If so, he would obviously pick his descendants—of which there were reportedly numerous by now, given the empire's more than a millennia's worth of history. 

Reivan surmised, adding everything else he'd heard from the conversations, that imperial princes and princesses were being made to compete against each other. And it seemed that each one had a certain number of forces assigned to them. Specifically, homunculi, espers, legionaries, and imperial vanguards. Sensing the threat posed by the kingdom's interference, multiple imperial family members banded together to form a coalition so they could conquer southward more safely.

As for the lords and aristocrats, they had simply invited themselves into the part, so to speak.

"Quiet," the woman seemingly tapped the table to get everyone's attention. "You said you had a plan, Axion. Clearly, no one else has one, so why don't you share it now?"

"Oh, well it's quite simple, really," Axion said with confidence. "We'll use the slaves as hostages. I'll negotiate with the knight leader and release all the ones we have in exchange for safe passage. If they don't let us, then we flay some slaves and hang them up along our path of retreat."

None of the others in the tent seemed to think it was a good idea. And they made sure to voice their concerns.

"Knights don't submit to threats like that. Not unless you have a prince or someone captive."

"This won't work. I read multiple reports where they just let hostages die and do unspeakable things to the ones who did it."

"They won't even negotiate. Likely, they know they're in a superior position and will abuse that."

"They might also just renege. Say they'll let us go for the hostages but they'll attack anyway."

"So much backlash..." Axion seemed exasperated. "But valid points all around. Remember though, the situation has changed a lot from the past."

"How so?" the woman sought clarification with genuine curiosity.

"In the past," Axion began. "When a knight lets a hostage get killed, the people of Aizen never blamed the knight—they blamed the one who killed the hostage. This is a reasonable way of thinking, honestly, but the general populace isn't supposed to be reasonable like that. Such results are mainly because three thousand years worth of knights have forged an ironclad reputation of trustworthiness."

"Your point?"

"That reputation only exists for Aizen's people. Everywhere else, they're god-like beings who can beat everything. If they let a bunch of hostages die, who will the people of Arkhan blame? The Argonians who're just doing what they always do or the supposedly strong knights who can do anything if they really want to?"

There was a moment of silence before someone said, "The former, no?"

Axion clicked his tongue. "Well, yes. Most will. But I guarantee that some will blame the latter, my dear cousins. That is simply how the ignorant populace works. I would know, because unlike you all, I grew up in the dirt and mud. When a hunter comes back with a dead apprentice, most blame the bear, but there are always those that blame the hunter for not being perfect."

"And so what if that does happen?" a young man asked with doubt in his tone. "Say we kill hostages after they refuse to let us go unmolested. Our forces will still suffer massive losses during the retreat."

"My brother is right." the woman said. "We stain their reputation among Arkhanians for a while in exchange for tens of thousands of Argonians? That doesn't seem like a good exchange."

Axion chuckled. "I don't either. But it's a threat, right? Think of it this way... Alphon. Let us say, for argument's sake, that you only have a hundred vanguards in your retinue. Now, I make a bet with you—I'll flip a coin, and if you get it right, I will give you twenty of my vanguards. But if you get it wrong, you will have to give me ten. Would you play?"

There was a moment of silence before Alphon, the young man who'd spoken earlier, seemingly clicked his tongue. "I wouldn't."

"Is that so? Even though you could gain more for little risk? How about we play this game right now?"

"I don't want to."

"Suit yourself," Axion continued. "Most people, like Alphon over here, value the avoidance of loss more than the possibility of gain. Consider the current situation from the knights' perspective—they have suffered no losses whatsoever, they've taken out numerous enemy forces, and now, the imperial army is basically begging to be released from suffering. Essentially, the knights are winning. They could go home right now and be proud of their gains because the big bad people from Argonia are retreating no matter what they do. Would they, under these circumstances, stain their reputation—potentially beyond recovery—in exchange for the lives of a few hundred thousand peasant levies? Of which none will truly affect the course of this war?"

Again, there was silence before the woman spoke again. "What if they do?"

"Ah, well." Axion chuckled, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Honestly, if they take that route, I'll personally send their new leader my respects. Maybe I'll release all the homunculi we have and let them rampage around Arkhan. That'll keep 'em busy until we can get out of here."

"You crazy bastard..."

"Anyway. Silvin, didn't you and Alphon over there see that prince they call the Young Wolf? Back when we were all still attending the Spirit Tower."

The woman grunted. "What of it?"

"Why don't you tell us your impressions of the guy? I was unfortunately too busy studying magic and couldn't care less at the time."

"What do you expect us to tell you? We barely interacted." Alphon scoffed. "And what interaction we did have probably wasn't his true self anyway."

Axion sighed. "That's why I asked for your impression of the guy."

Silvin answered after a bit of thought. "He's strong. Probably stronger than any vanguard."

"Oh?" Axion whistled. "What about me?"

"I don't know."

"Tsk. Well, I suppose I'll just assume that he is stronger than me. Seems safer." Axion cleared his throat and there was a wooden clatter as he seemingly got up from his seat. "That's all for now. We should all catch whatever sleep we can catch. None of you can take more than a few sleepless nights, so I won't keep you for too long. We'll inform the lords of our decision tomorrow morning. I'm sure they're too busy plowing some unfortunate wench."

After that, the people inside steadily filed out. Reivan watched them all, scanning each and every single one with [Supreme Insight]. Among them were two faces he recognized from his time before infiltrating the Spirit Tower—Alphon and Silvin. He had even interacted more closely with Alphon as Clover, working out near each other in the Tower's training hall.

Last to leave was a tall man, with a muscular build that Arnold Schwarzenegger had in his prime. The torso seemed like an inverted triangle with chest muscles barely contained in a white tunic. The man had sun-kissed brown skin and a head of blonde hair.

'This must be that Axion fellow.'

Reivan immediately used [Supreme Insight], only for it to result in something he'd never seen before.

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

[ The target's special ability has resisted Supreme Insight. ]

[ Some information cannot be revealed. ]

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

Name: Axion Stran Argonia

Species: Human

Realm: Mortal

Age: 21

Sex: Male

Favor

(Interest) 13 / 100

Threat Level

B+

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

'Well, that's new. I've either been allowed or denied entirely. It says it's because of the guy's special ability though, so I guess there really are all kinds of gifts out there.'

Just as wondered what else the special gift did, Reivan's gaze met with a pair of blood-red eyes.

The imperial prince was staring right at him.

Arc#5 Chapter 22: In and Out (1)

[Author's Note]

Merry Chrismas, everyone!

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Reivan and the forces of Samsara continued their frequent assaults for three days, yet the empire's massive army continued its much slower advance southward.

Despite the relative success they found on the first day, the empire wasn't led by fools and as such, naturally came up with countermeasures. Or rather, they utilized the countermeasures that old imperial generals used when fighting against knights in the past. Such countermeasures involved putting most of the levied forces in a relatively secure area while the giant homunculi or Imperial Vanguards waited at the edges of the army, ready to rain down ranged attacks on the knights.

While the attacks weren't that dangerous, once they had expended a significant amount of force behind them just to close the distance, they successfully discouraged the knights from further pressing forward. Of course, Reivan and the knights could force the attack, but doing so would be an unnecessary risk when the mere threat of an attack was enough to sap away the enemy's stamina and will to fight. Besides, the empire didn't bring an unlimited number of arrows and projectiles, so continuing to maintain distance while spooking them from time to time wasn't a loss in the long run.

Now, even if Reivan and his forces had a way to somewhat deal with stamina problems, magic power had to be recovered if they wanted to fight effectively. Since their skirmishes have devolved into ranged harassment, both sides had to stop and rest more frequently.

Argonians could just rest their ass safely, protected by their big hulking beasts and walls upon walls of their people's corpses. Even though many died from the knights' ambushes, there were still more than five hundred thousand imperials in the army after all.

But Samsara's forces only numbered a minuscule two hundred in comparison. If they were going to rest at all, they couldn't do it somewhere in the open. With no more greeneries left in the wake of Arkhan's unnatural heatwaves, that limited them tremendously.

'Good thing we found these underground chambers! What a life-saver.'

Reivan's golden bestial eyes penetrated the darkness as he scanned the expansive dark chasm underneath one of Arkhan's many abandoned towns. The place had apparently been prepared over the course of a few weeks by battlemages who had [Earth] attribute spirit beasts. Under the conceptual knowledge that hot air rose higher and cold air sunk, they sought to escape the blasted heat by keeping the ordinary people hidden in underground chambers much like the one Samsara's forces were using as their temporary base.

The hollowed-out area wasn't that big, truth be told, only capable of comfortably housing a few hundred—but could probably squeeze thousands within. And there were no partitions, so privacy must not have been an available commodity for everyone staying there. Not even a proper bathroom, it seemed.

But at least they didn't die from heatstrokes or dehydration.

Those people had all been forcefully evacuated to Lageton though, which was also why Reivan and the others knew about the underground chamber in the first place. Surprisingly, the battlemages in various other settlements thought of similar ideas despite no correspondence between each other, so the subterranean bunker that Reivan was in wasn't the only one in Arkhan.

And they were quite thankful for having readied places to hide in.

Reivan was making good use of his time by chewing on field rations while sitting on a rock. Naturally, he could have taken out a freshly cooked meal frozen in time within Zouros' belly or retrieved one of the many comfy furniture he collected for personal use. But that didn't seem very appropriate given the current situation. And besides, he didn't want to get too comfortable when battle could erupt at any minute.

Around him were the other knights dutifully waiting for their mana to recover. Some used the time, like Reivan, to fill their stomachs with some fuel. While some merely leaned against a wall, a rock, or a comrade's back to get some light sleep. Others still, talked with their fellows in hushed tones, most likely discussing tactics or exchanging tips regarding fighting style.

Gwen was discussing things with Sir Gregory and Sir Vino, while Xander was passed out not too far away. The poor knight had to get knocked out because he wouldn't take a rest, even after Reivan asked him to go on an extended scouting trip.

Helen, his wife, was squatting on the craggy floor nearby as she munched on her own field rations. She was making a point of turning her face away, which didn't strike him as strange because she was a little annoyed at him right now.

Reivan finished his handful of lizard jerky before sheepishly nudging her leg with his foot. "Hey. I know you're worried, but I'll be fine."

"That's what people who don't end up fine say before going off to get themselves killed."

"Uh... Yeah, that's probably right. But relax. Just like the time I infiltrated the Tower, I'll be in and out before anyone even notices."

Helen finally turned to him with an exasperated sigh and a cheek that was slightly bulging—which, he decided, shouldn't be commented on for now. "I know you've done it before, but I still think it's an unnecessary risk. Dame Gwendolyn and the others agree with me too, that the empire is practically guaranteed to retreat and break up their coalition since they've run out of food and we can easily attack any supply convoys that try to relieve them. We even caught the riders they sent to ask for aid."

"But still, wouldn't it be better to be extra sure?"

"For the price of your life? No. No, it wouldn't."

"I'm not guaranteed to die, you know? I have the [Darkness] affinity so I'll be harder to detect."

"The risk still exists," Helen rebutted, sighing again. "You don't have to infiltrate enemy camp. Our side has essentially secured victory already. Or at least, we've secured a stalemate where a full-on clash will never occur."

Reivan groaned. He'd only mentioned it in passing on one of the war councils they held after every other ambush. But as he voiced his thoughts aloud, the benefits gradually dawned on him.

Sadly, the others didn't agree.

Gwendolyn, at least, acknowledged the boons and how much the conflict would be accelerated to its end. But she still dismissed it as too much of a risk when the method of slowly suffocating the enemy army was perfectly fine. Sir Vino praised his valor too, saying that Reivan really was a warbeast at his core.

On the other hand, Sir Xander, Sir Gregory, and Helen were vehemently denying his plan despite its merits.

"C'mon, it's not as bad as it sounds," Reivan continued to try to convince her. "And like I said, I've done it before. In the Spirit Tower, there were Ascendants everywhere and even a Transcendent. Now there's just a bunch of mortals so the risk is even less."

"And how much time did you spend in preparation for that?"

Reivan froze for a moment before reluctantly answering. "More than a year..."

"Uh-huh. And you knew just about everything about the person you were impersonating too, right?"

"Yes..."

"You even practiced how to act like him and noted down mannerisms the person didn't know they had."

Groaning, Reivan raised both hands in surrender. "Alright, alright... When did you get so good at arguing with me anyway? Good lord..."

Helen turned her face away in what was probably a mix of annoyance and exasperation for a few moments. But she eventually glanced at him and spoke in a hushed tone that he could barely hear. "In the first place, are you asking or telling?"

Despite her lack of clarification, Reivan understood what she meant. Basically, she wanted to know if he sought her counsel or simply told her his plans with no intention of changing them no matter what she said.

It may have been different in the past, but they were husband and wife now. His life no longer belonged to him alone, just as her life didn't belong to her alone. They were partners now, and they were supposed to be companions in the journey through life—making life-threatening decisions without the other's input wasn't just. Of course, there were times when they were bound to ignore the other's opinion, such as when Helen wouldn't have agreed to be left behind in Lageton while he went off on this mission. But if their positions were reversed, Reivan would ignore her sentiments and go with her too. That was just how it was.

At the heart of this quiet discussion, it felt as if Helen was trying to ascertain what kind of relationship he wanted theirs to be—one where he went and did whatever he wanted, pulling her along for the ride. Or one where they worked together in the truest sense.

"I'm asking. Of course, I'm asking." Reivan got up from his rock and sat on the ground right next to her, grabbing her hand and holding it tight. "Sorry, if it didn't seem that way."

Helen hummed and finally faced him fully, a small smile gracing her face. "That's nice. But you shouldn't be showing this kind of stuff off when there are others watching..."

"Ah."

As he'd just noted down earlier when looking around the cave, there weren't any partitions or anything like that, meaning privacy was nonexistent. This was fine too, because everyone was in everyone else's line of sight, essentially making it so that their group covered for each other.

But that also meant that their little moment was out on display for two hundred knights to see.

"Ehem, excuse me." Reivan cleared his throat and looked around, noting that Gwen didn't even seem to notice, too drawn into her discussion with Sir Gregory and Sir Vino. Meanwhile, most of Hosue Mercer's knights discreetly looked away or were busying themselves with something—such as observing the bumpy ground and walls or cleaning their perfectly clean soul armaments.

The warbeasts, on the other hand, were not so considerate. They openly smirked, and some even wolf-whistled.

He threateningly waved his fist at them to make them stop before shyly turning back to his wife, whose mood had improved drastically. "A-Anyway, about my plans..."

"I still don't like it. Too risky. We'll win even if you don't do anything like it."

"I understand that, but I also want to infiltrate the camp so we can gather information. I want to sneak in and maybe catch some conversation between important figures. I also want to know who the important figures are and maybe assassinate them if I can."

"Like I said, too risky. We'll win any—"

"Right. We'll win this battle." Reivan interjected. "But even if we kill, what, a few hundred thousand peasant levies, tens of thousands of legionaries, and a few thousand vanguards, what does that even do to the empire as a whole? They have hundreds of millions of people in there. Maybe even billions, though nobody's sure. They can refill their ranks and come back another day. Maybe with a bigger army."

Helen groaned, unable to deny it.

Pressing the attack, Reivan continued. "We need to hit them where it hurts, Helen. Not all their nobles are important, but if we take enough of them out, won't other nobles who hear about it become reluctant to join up the next time some asshole tries to gather an army of this scale again? We're making them bleed right now, but that's all. They go home and lick their wounds, then it's as if we never wounded them in the first place."

"That's..."

"If we want to hurt them, we need to do more. We need to make them afraid, Helen. We need to make it so that every time they march on us, their spines will chill at the thought that they could die before they even see our walls."

Reivan stopped to check if she was starting to be convinced, but instead, he noticed that the other knights seemed more convinced and approving. They didn't make it obvious, but they were nodding along and some even muttered about how he was right.

Finally, Helen nodded. "I can see how this would benefit us..."

"Then—"

"But it still places you at tremendous risk. I don't like it. Nobody here does."

Reivan groaned, remembering something his father had said in passing. When arguing with a woman, logic had to take a back seat in favor of the emotional side of things. This was mainly where men and women didn't see eye to eye, sometimes valuing entirely different things. "Like I said, the risks aren't as high as you think... I have Zee with me and Dom too. I have a bunch of runestones and spell balls just in case of a pickle as well."

Since they were made by Transcendents, he had to temporarily leave behind Frey's Blessing, which essentially granted him a second life and the ability to cast miracles. The same could be said of the Sword Star's silver bell.

But even then, how could the prince of one of the world's most ancient nations not have a bag full of extremely expensive tricks? The empire would have a very hard time exhausting the bombs he had in his bag, so to speak.

Suddenly being hit by a bout of inspiration, Reivan brought his lips close to her ear and whispered so that nobody else would hear. "Also, the sooner we end this, the sooner we can get back to Lageton and focus on making a kid."

That seemed to impact her a lot because she bit her lip and furrowed her brow. "That's true..."

"Also, if we crush their hopes for long enough, I can spend a lot of time with you and the baby even after it's born. At most, I'll be gone for a few days at a time, never for extended periods to deal with massive armies like this one."

"You say that as if you're not taking in a second wife and dozens of concubines. But I can see the merits."

"R-Right..." Reivan cleared his throat and wiped the bead of sweat on his brow. "And if I can rescue any captive Arkhanians, it might help my image as a ruler and subsequently endear me to the general public. That means my regime can rule more effectively and I'll be even less busy. I can pretty much throw all the administrative tasks to Gwen and Jiji without showing up as much."

Helen groaned before finally sighing, her shoulders slumping in resignation. "Fine. I understand. I won't say anything about this anymore."

"Really?"

"Yes. But, you'll have to do it at dusk and get back out at dawn. Like you said, in and out."

"Of course. It won't take that long. And I won't greed for more gains."

"Okay... Also, if you don't get back on time, I'll never let you talk me into supporting your recklessness ever again. Got it?"

Reivan nodded vehemently, a smile forming on his lips as he got up and offered her a hand. "Alright. C'mon, let's discuss this with the others."

Helen took his offer and stood on her feet before nonchalantly calling out to him. "Rein."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for discussing this with me."

Reivan's brows rose and he glanced at her, chuckling when he noticed that she'd already gone on ahead of him toward Gwen and the other two important figures in their merry little warband.

'I'm glad I did too.'

════════════════════════════════

The plan was simple.

Samsara's forces would do what they had done on the first day—strike swiftly and decisively, like a spear digging into a beast's hide as deep as it could. They would have to endure more resistance than the first day and a few were likely to come out injured, but the empire's forces wouldn't expect it at this point. The Argonians had been lulled into a false sense of peace these past few days, so they wouldn't expect Samsara to switch tactics so suddenly.

In the chaos of that attack, Reivan would disguise himself as a common peasant levy and blend back into the imperial army. As for who he would be impersonating, he could simply procure it in the battle. There would be plenty of opportunities to do so. In fact, he highly doubted anyone memorized almost half a million people's faces. Especially not the nobles, who were known for treating their own levies as cannon fodder. So he could just come up with an entirely new face and go largely unrecognized.

As for why he chose a peasant levy—who had the lowest standing within the army—instead of a legionary or an Imperial Vanguard, that was because the latter two were professional soldiers. That would make them all much harder to impersonate since Reivan didn't know military traditions and etiquette. If he impersonated a peasant levy, then even if he did something stupid, everybody would just chalk it up to him being a bit dim in the head. Or maybe they'd just chastise him for not paying attention to training or something.

After infiltrating, he'd skulk around as Samsara's forces continued to pressure the empire. This would also make it much easier to move around in the army's camp, and also provide him ample opportunity to escape.

Now, as for what he was going to accomplish, that was still up in the air. But he had a list of things to look for. He'd just have to pray that his luck was decent today.

On the dusk of the fourth day, since Samsara's forces collided with the gargantuan imperial army, Reivan seamlessly infiltrated the enemy camp.

'That was so easy, it's actually kind of alarming.'

Reivan pretended to groan in pain as he rolled around in the mud. Samsara's forces had already retreated after being chased off by a force of about ten three thousand Vanguards and about a dozen homunculi. A lot of the latter were killed, however, their ridiculously massive carcasses blocked his view of his retreating allies. Since that was the case, he may as well screw his eyes shut.

"Oi, we got a live one over there!" someone called out in some Argonian dialect, which Reivan could only understand because he'd learned a few dialects including the main one through a pearl of wisdom. A few heartbeats later, a wet squelch filled his right ear as someone knelt before him before clicking their tongue. "By the Sun God. Just my plowing luck, this guy's a peasant levy too. Would've been great if I managed to save a legionary..."

Despite what the man said, Reivan still felt himself get carried off and slung over someone's shoulder. From what conversation he could hear nearby, it seemed he and anyone else found alive in the battle site were to be brought to a priest for healing. Which wasn't good, because he wasn't actually injured.

'Lord have mercy, I'm already running into trouble...!? Damnit. I should've dislocated my arm, at least...'

Having lived a knight's lifestyle growing up, he had plenty of experience having limbs dislocated and setting them back. Honestly, he didn't even flinch when it happened nowadays, which scared him a little when he really thought about it.

He peered through his eyelids and observed the surroundings he passed by, noting how well-organized everything was. The large ten-person tents were arranged with uniform distances in between, just enough for three people to pass through if they walked shoulder to shoulder. Not only that, but the surroundings outside of the tents were pretty clean too.

If he was being perfectly honest, he'd expected Argonians to just shit in a pot inside their tents before wantonly throwing it outside. So this was a bit of an eye-opener. Maybe there was something about the red color that made things look cleaner? He couldn't be sure.

As he passed, he saw some legionaries maintaining their rifles or oiling their blades with practiced precision, sitting on scattered crates while giving levies the stink eye from time to time. Given how numerous the imperial army was, it went without saying that observing his surroundings got old really fast. At some point, he'd seen it all and there wasn't anything of interest. Only levies and legionaries were in this area, apparently. Because anyone higher ranked was either in the middle of the camp or at the edges to guard against enemy harassment.

Just as the man porting him complained about how his back was aching from how heavy Reivan was, they made it to an especially large collection of white tents, each with a priest treating particularly bloody patients or reattaching limbs. Additionally, there was a particularly large tent that seemed as if it could easily fit a hundred people in the middle, where lesser injuries were being treated. Most of the injured were being brought into the larger tent.

There were a lot of injured people inside though. Clearly, Samsara's attack had produced plenty of injured men.

'We went for the kill though. I guess they were just out of killing range.'

When he looked closer and listened to surrounding conversations, he realized that the majority of the injuries were caused by rubble sent flying by the fights or an errant gust of wind blowing them away, only to crash into the ground enough to break bones but not kill. Some even got injured because they were trampled by others when the undisciplined levies rushed to get away from the area where the knights suddenly attacked.

Seemingly too impatient to wait in line, Reivan's human mount roughly set him down inside the tent before leaving.

'Alright, how do I get out of here...'

Reivan cracked his eyes open and observed the interior of the tent. The inside was lit with floating balls of white flame that radiated an unnatural brilliance, each one presumably following the priest that conjured them. Still, despite their brightness, there were shadows he could exploit because the sources of light kept moving around without illuminating the entire tent. And in a stroke of luck, he'd been set down in one of those shadows.

When he was sure that nobody was paying attention to him and no one was heading inside to bring in more injured, Reivan's disguise quickly fell away, allowing him access to all his abilities once again. He then transformed into a shadow that rushed through the gaps beneath the tent and blended seamlessly into the night. That said, even though the [Darkness] affinity made it impossible for ordinary people to notice him if he didn't want them to, even mortals could eventually detect him if they were close enough to Ascendance. After all, with the improvement of the body comes the evolution of one's senses.

Of course, even those people wouldn't notice him immediately. Especially not if he was surrounded by darkness like he was right now.

'I should still play it safe and move carefully though.'

A dead man with a thousand successes only had to mess up once.

For a few hours, Reivan aimlessly wandered the expansive campsite by moving from shadow to shadow, taking extra care to be as far away from light as possible. He was actually curious about the center of the camp where all the really important people were gathered, but he was sure that a lot of powerful people were concentrated there too. It was also a terrible idea for him to willingly make his way to the center, thereby making it much easier to get surrounded if he was exposed.

That was why he mainly roamed the part somewhat close to the areas supposedly in danger from a knight attack. Justifiably, there wasn't much to speak of but a bunch of soldiers grumbling about the lack of food, but what surprised Reivan even more was that they hadn't run out of food entirely.

'There must have been another food storage other than the one Sir Xander blew up. Or maybe they kept it in spatial storage artifacts?'

If it was the latter, then they probably wouldn't last long anyway. And it also proved that he was correct in infiltrating the camp, because the imperial army clearly wasn't in as a dire state as they thought. The battle would have been prolonged even more.

Just when he was trying to come up with a way to find it, he suddenly heard an interesting conversation between two passing legionaries.

"Sormon have mercy on my soul, I hate this job sometimes," one of the two, the older one with a grey beard, complained. "We're getting plowed to high heaven by those bastards from Aizen, but some noble brat wants me to fetch one of the Arkanian prisoners for him?"

"Eh, what else can we do." the other chuckled. He was much younger than the other and seemed to look up to his senior. "Hey. Maybe we could have a turn before they do."

"Don't even think about it, boy. No noble is gonna like it if you handed them a freshly used woman. They'd hang you for less. Best to stay out of trouble."

"I was just joking..." the younger one grumbled. "But it ain't right. The legionaries are the ones who scoured those cities while the Vanguards just jerked themselves off in camp. But they're the only ones allowed to plow the Arkhanian slaves we captured? I didn't feel as bad about it a few days ago because I thought they'd protect us if any knights came running, but they haven't even killed a single one. It's been what, four days?

"Don't talk so loudly. You'll get us both in trouble." the older one whispered with urgency but didn't refute the younger one's words. "I'm not too satisfied with them either, honestly. Lots of our boys even got killed because they keep letting those plowing knights because the vanguards keep allowing them to walk all over us."

"They got my cousin the other day. Good guy, that one. He even gave me a turn at the redhead he caught a week ago before he turned her over to the overseers. Tightest plow of my life, I swear to Sormon. I almost ascended then and there."

"Did ya, now? Should've called me so I could've had a turn too."

"Sorry about that, old man. Slipped my mind. I swear it won't happen next time we get to pillage."

The more Reivan listened, the more his guilt over the Argonians he slew over the past few days dissipated.

If he really tried to, he could probably recall most of their faces, but he indulged himself by avoiding such thoughts. Even though he knew that he had to kill them, he'd always felt a certain level of guilt over what was essentially murder. It wasn't indirect deaths like when countless people died because of the information he divulged about the Sage King's plans. These people died as a direct consequence of his actions, like Maya and the boy he killed in the Sanctuary.

Now, he felt as if he could be a bit less concerned. Not to the point of total indifference, of course. But he certainly wouldn't be agonizing over the Argonians he killed any time soon.

Reivan didn't hesitate to follow the two legionaries for now, eventually reaching a very large tent very similar to the one he'd been deposited in earlier. Except this one was easily distinguishable from the white tents that priests used or the red ones meant for most of the soldiers.

This one was a very bright pink and was illuminated with plenty of lanterns.

Guarding the large tent were two very imposing men in full-plate armor—Imperial Vanguards. And a quick examination placed them at around 800 Might each.

The two vanguards looked at the legionaries with suspicion. "Halt. State your business. Legionaries and peasant levies aren't allowed past this point."

"We are aware, great warrior." the older legionary stepped forward with a friendly smile. "It's just that we're under orders from Lord Clavelus to bring him some fine girls. Untouched, if you would be so kind."

"Ah..." The vanguards immediately eased up. Clearly, this wasn't the first time something like this happened. "Aye. We anticipated this so we've set some aside if a lord ever wanted to partake. If we didn't, all they'd have to choose from won't be pretty no matter how good they looked at the start."

The old legionary chuckled knowingly. "Then they'll somehow find a reason to blame us, am I right? As if we were supposed to just leave 'em all alone."

"You got that right, old timer." one of the vanguards laughed and the other soon followed before nudging his armored head toward the tent. "Go ahead inside. You'll want the ones chained to the very back. Can't miss 'em. They've still got their clothes on, after all."

"Thank you, warriors. Ah, but... Since we're here already, could me and the boy be allowed to have a go at the used ones?" The older legionary hooked his arm over the younger one. "This guy's never touched a woman, if you'll believe it. Have some pity, would ya?"

Immediately catching on, the younger legionary nodded vigorously. "Please, warriors. I don't wanna die before getting to plow anything."

"Hah?" one of the vanguards grunted in apparent confusion. "Didn't you get to pillage on the way here?"

"We did," the older legionary interjected. "But we weren't lucky to find any young'uns. Just men and kids we sold off. And a bit of loot. The young women always got snatched up, before I could help this boy shed his youth."

The vanguards looked at each other before one of them shrugged and turned to the legionaries with a nod. "We won't say anything. None of the vanguards can have a go because of these plowing knights. May as well let you teach those Arkhanian wenches what's what. Just shoot your shot, pick a girl, and plow off, alright? Don't you be staying too long after, thinking you could rest up and have another go. We're not supposed to let you bastards have a turn at all. Us two're just nice fellows."

"Thank you, thank you, warriors." The old legionary grinned and dipped his head. "We won't be forgetting this any time soon."

"Oh, sod off already old man. No need to butter us up."

The two legionaries were then allowed to go into the large pink tent. Unlike the one with the priests in it, this one actually had its flap set down to hide the interior from prying eyes. But when the legionaries entered, Reivan managed to glimpse the harrowing scene within.

And the smell too, reached him from his hiding spot a dozen yards away.

'These inhuman swine...'

Reivan's fist couldn't help but clench, trembling under the strength of his grip. He quickly calmed down, however. Time was of the essence, and if he delayed for longer, at least two of those girls were going to suffer even more than they already had. Maybe it was just one drop in a very full bucket, but he wouldn't allow that drop if he could stop it.

Because it was too bright in this area, especially around the large pink tent, Reivan couldn't just sneak into the place the same way he'd been sneaking around until now.

'I guess this is where the disguise comes in.'

Reivan chose a hidden corner to come back into existence, quickly switching to a different face. This one had belonged to a brown-haired legionary in his early twenties. After rapidly putting on the man's looted uniform, he confidently walked up the the tent with a smile.

"Evening, warriors," he greeted before they could tell him to stop. "I know I'm not supposed to be here, but hear me out. A bunch of drunk lords asked me to pick up a few girls for them and I'm kind of in a hurry. Judging by how drunk they are, they'll either completely forget they ordered me at all, or have me hanged if I take too long. I'm not much of a gambler, honestly. So if you don't mind, could you help a poor soldier out?"

The two vanguards glanced at each other before one of them sighed in exasperation. "These lords, I swear to Sormon... Which one ordered you?"

Reivan raised both hands in shook his head. "I'm gonna be frank with you fellows, I don't even know who they are. Too many of 'em too. But they're dressed nice and they're guarded by other vanguards, so..."

"Agh, fine, fine. Get in and make it quick. Don't be looking around too much."

Laughing at how easy it was, Reivan bobbed his head with an ingratifying smile. "I know my place, warriors. I ain't great enough to have a go at the wenches like you all."

One of the vanguards chuckled. "Got a good mouth on you, man. Well, if you weren't in such a hurry, we wouldn't have said anything if you had one go."

"What? Seriously?" Reivan slumped his shoulders. "Just my luck... Would you let me if I come back here after delivering the girls to the lords?"

"Haha. Don't push your luck, boy."

"C'mon. Even the fugly ones will do."

"The fugly ones were sent off to home, fool." one of the vanguards laughed and even slapped his belly, which was behind a cuirass. "Only the decent-looking ones get the honor of being a tent girl."

Reivan had to try very hard not to grimace. "An honor, huh..."

"Of course." the vanguard on the left waved a hand dismissively. "These plowing Arkhanians had it coming to 'em. They're lucky if one of the vanguards take a liking to them enough to bring 'em home."

"If they survive, yeah?" the other vanguard said with a grin. "It's pretty rough having to handle so many, you know? I heard it's worse over in the other comfort tents."

Reivan's ears immediately perked up.

'There's more than one tent...!'

When he really thought about it, that made perfect sense. The Argonian's words implied that men, children, and women who weren't attractive enough were shipped back to Argonia as slaves. Even if they only picked out women above a certain level of charm, they wouldn't all fit in just one tent considering just how many settlements this army passed through and ravaged.

'Fuck. If I had known that the tents were color-coded, I would've had Zee scout from the sky and note down where all the pink ones were.'

That meant the girls were separated, making it harder for him to rescue all of them at once. If the absence of even one tent was revealed, the other tents would be more strictly guarded and would have more vanguards on them. While he could easily handle more than ten at once, chances were high that he'd get overrun before he could silence all ten.

But there was no going back now. Rescuing some was better than rescuing nobody. He would retrieve all the women here and then see what he could do about the others.

In the end, he'd just have to try his best on that front.

Since that was the case anyway, Reivan's disguise rapidly fell away along with the weakness it caused him. Before the vanguards could react, the swords in each of his hands had already traced a line across their necks. Just as their armored heads fell, Reivan retrieved all the parts and stored them inside Zouros' stomach. Checking to see that nobody had noticed, Reivan strode into the tent.

Even when he'd anticipated it, and even when he'd already glimpsed a bit of what was inside earlier, he still couldn't help but grimace.

'Now I understand why some knights are really racist against Argonians.'

Reivan was starting to think that becoming racist wouldn't be so bad.

Arc#5 Chapter 21: Devastation

The attack started without warning.

No fanfare, no arrogant bastard declaring the beginning of hostilities, and no surrenders were solicited.

Suddenly, dozens of tents were sent flying by powerful gusts of winds in the dead of night. Campfires were extinguished as people flew through the air like discarded dolls, all before they landed on the ground with their bodies broken. Some soldiers outside of the initially affected range were killed by weapons or debris coincidentally landing on them as they slept in their own tents. Dust was everywhere since part of the ground was upturned, serving as a makeshift smokescreen that caused even more confusion.

And then armored knights broke through the mist of sand and began to harvest dozens of lives with every swing. Their formation was like a spear's head, penetrating deeply into the imperial army's campsite as if nothing stood in their way.

'Dear lord...'

Reivan was running with about a hundred knights from House Mercer, hidden in the middle of the formation with little to do because those at the front killed everything. Through the slats of his visor, his eyes beheld the sheer destruction that "mere mortals" could wreak. It was clear that Transcendents were unconditionally the most proficient destroyers, but mortals weren't to be underestimated.

Not that Senior-grade Knights fit the mold of "mortal" very well. They were superhumans that normal people wouldn't stand a chance against, after all.

The formation of knights continued to dig into the camps, slaying hundreds of people by the second. Most of the mangled corpses around them likely belonged to peasant levies—ordinary imperial citizens conscripted to war with not a single cent of pay except for the right to pillage and keep whatever they get their hands on. These people were so weak they may as well be grass, unable to resist being trampled. They never asked for this war, yet they were going to be the majority of deaths in it.

He knew he should feel pity for them, but then Reivan remembered that these levies were fresh from conquering Northern Arkhan—they had likely raped the lands and its people on their way here. Along the scattered tents were loot they probably got from the campaign thus far.

'There's still no response. It's good that we picked this time to strike. Truly, veterans know their shit.'

On the suggestion of House Mercer's representative, the knights had attacked at around midnight because that was apparently one of the best times to do so—too early in the night and the guards would still be fresh, but too close to dawn and the troops would have gotten a good amount of rest. At this time, however, a lot of sentries would have been dozing off from the monotony while most soldiers were still a bit fatigued.

Also, it was the darkest period of the day, which was detrimental to mundane soldiers. Imperial Vanguards wouldn't mind it, but the knights would be invisible to levies and legionaries.

Not only that, but just a cursory scouting trip allowed Sir Gregory Mercer to pinpoint the optimal spot to begin the attack—one least likely to have a lot of Imperial Vanguards nearby, and was far away from where the army kept their supplies. That was why there was still no significant resistance three minutes into the attack.

'Three minutes may not sound like a lot, but that's way too long for a combatant on a similar physical level to Senior Knights. They should have gathered and charged us by now.'

Just as he thought so, those at the front of their formation signaled a retreat as they backed off.

Reivan's eyes squinted as he examined a group of around twelve hundred hastily-dressed warriors charged in his direction—well, the knight formation's direction, anyway. A cursory use of [Supreme Insight] on ten of them revealed that most of them were on the same level as a Junior-grade Knight, with some Senior-grade individuals mixed in. Sadly, he couldn't check more than a thousand people's status pages in an instant, so he would just have to make do with what he found.

After sharing this information through the dream crystals that they all had, heralding the beginning of their plan's Second Step.

Immediately, the formation shifted to adjust; the knights that had formerly been in the middle retreated to the middle since they were the most tired, and then those who had been in the middle moved to replace them as the ones most in danger of being attacked. Meanwhile, the knights at the very back began lobbing ranged attacks at the incoming elite enemy forces.

All of this, while retracing their steps in an orderly retreat.

Majority of all knights produced by House Mercer had the [Wind] attribute, so they were obviously fast when they wanted to—which didn't apply to the current situation. Instead of retreating at full speed and leaving the enemy in the dust, the knights intentionally slowed down to give the other side some "hope" to catch up.

They never did, of course, one-sidedly suffering from arrows and javelin throws while just close enough to catch the knights by the coattails.

Reivan kept up without much trouble, making sure not to "pull the trigger" preemptively. He had initially been in the very middle of the group, so now that their strategy reached the next step, he was part of the group closest to the imperial forces chasing them down. Pretty much, he'd be one of the first people to enter combat if it ever happened any time soon.

That also meant that the imperial forces chasing him down were within range of everything he could dish out. Should the chasing troops suffer too many casualties, however, they might get too scared to continue the pursuit—and that wasn't a good thing for him and the other knights.

In the thick of battle, Reivan found it surprisingly difficult to, well, do nothing. There were dozens of easy kills just behind him. With their momentum, their reactions would be slowed if he suddenly turned around and attacked. Such thoughts occupied his mind and his knightly predilection to capitalize on all openings was screaming at him to do so.

Fortunately, he wasn't some thoughtless beast that couldn't control himself. He did carelessly throw some light attacks, intentionally missing most of them to give off the impression that he was a panicked rat fleeing from a hungry cat.

'Oh, they're really gunning for us, huh!'

There was blood in the eyes of the imperial warriors chasing Reivan and the others down. It was clear that, given the opportunity, these Argonians would rip any knight they got their hands on to shreds. Was it because their pride got wounded? Or did all of them know someone from the tens of thousands of people their group of one hundred killed in under four minutes?

Either way, the empire's pursuit force obediently trailed behind them. Some, he noticed, had realized that even though they were still technically in the campsite, they were in the ruined portion of it—meaning there were fewer allies. These sharp people tried to alert the others but the ones at the front continued the pursuit like rabid dogs. Then, what seemed like a ball of white light shot into the sky from the pursuit force before exploding in a shower of sparks.

'A signal, huh?'

That must have been to alert any reinforcements of the current location, hinting at how they were all being led away.

Reivan clicked his tongue, snuffing out the sparks of light with an orb of shadows that swallowed the light whole. Unfortunately, the little fireworks show must have still been seen, so he told Sir Xander through their dream crystals to begin the attack on the enemy supplies.

Not even a second later, a series of explosions echoed out in the distance as pillars of flame rose, banishing the darkness of the night with their scalding radiance.

'That outta occupy them for a while. Reinforcements to the ones chasing us will be delayed.'

And just in time too, because it was now time for Step 3 in their strategy.

Reivan activated all of his physical buffs other than [Beast Gate], immediately turning around to attack their pursuers. Sixteen blades appeared around him and shot through the air to plant themselves in an Imperial Vanguard's body. He made sure to aim for the weakest opponents to remove them as variables early, allowing him and the other knights to focus on the actual threats among the group.

Meanwhile, Reivan caught a Senior-grade threat with their proverbial pants down, surprised that the "prey" they'd been chasing was now baring fangs.

Though the Argonian reacted, it was too late and the edge of Reivan's sword was moments away from the man's neck. And at that moment, their gazes met.

Burnt brown skin typical for those who worked under the sun, an even distribution of muscles born from decades of hard work, and brilliant green eyes filled with despair. If Qi hadn't muddied the waters so much, the imperial would have looked the same age as Rodin, Reivan's father.

Yet, his blade didn't stop as it traced a merciless line through the man's neck before sending the corpse flying back with a pulse of his willpower.

And a moment later, a ghastly phantom burst out of the body and charged at him before being bisected by a nearby knight who'd just slain their own opponent.

"Freaking espers..." Reivan muttered from behind his helmet as he transformed into a bolt of lightning, picking out distracted foes. Was it cowardly to stab one's enemies in the back?

No, it was practical. A distracted adversary cannot take you down with them, after all. It was easy work.

Easy enough that he had leeway to use [Supreme Insight] on more people. He wasn't specifically searching for the strong or the weak.

Rather, their MIght wasn't relevant—Reivan was searching for any espers. Those bastards were creatures one had to kill twice unless the entire body was evaporated in the initial death. Even if one was watching out for it, the battlefield was a collection of chaos; opportunities to catch people off guard were guaranteed. He would be fine, but the knights were a different matter.

Just as he thought so, battle cries resounded from the left and right of the pursuit force, announcing the arrival of the warbeasts.

Even with the enemy forces essentially pincered from three sides, that did not suddenly solve the sheer numbers disadvantage; it was still 200 or so knights versus more than 1000 imperial forces. A lot of the Argonians were taken out by ranged harassment during the retreat, but the disparity was still a glaring fact.

'Not that we're at risk or anything...'

The consensus when dealing with knights against other forces was to outnumber knights ten to one. So in a dogfight, the kingdom actually had the advantage. Not to mention how every knight present was a senior knight while most of the enemy were junior-grade knights or even lower.

That said, the current battle wasn't one where the two sides would throw themselves at each other until one side collapsed.

If the empire's forces decided to throw everything they had into a retreat, then most of them were likely to escape.

'That's why we have to take out as much as we can right now!'

Reivan was a storm of death, slaying warrior after warrior, accompanied by flying swords that could immediately take out anyone who wasn't paying attention by attacking from impossible angles and blind spots. At some point, covered in blood as the beating of his heart drummed in his ears, he noticed one abnormality.

In this execution field, where every knight was expected to handle ten enemies at once if they had to, one Argonian was valiantly battling against six warbeasts on his own. Unlike some of the other Imperial Vanguards who had rushed here without putting on all of their equipment, this one was fully decked out in full plate. A crimson tabard and cape adorned with golden edges decorated the heroic warrior as he calmly wielded a sword and shield against his beastly adversaries.

'Whoa. Who's that...?'

Reivan quickly checked the man and found nothing particularly impressive. The man was a Half-Ascendant who had reached the limit of mortal potential, yes. But the warrior didn't have any affinities or special abilities, though he did have a maxed out [Malevolence] adding a few hundred to his physical combat prowess.

'I mean, sure. The warbeasts haven't reached their physical growth limits yet, but they've already passed what humans can achieve. Plus the boon from soul armaments, that means any one of these six surpasses him in pure Might.'

Yet, this one warrior was holding his own against six warbeasts.

"Rein," the familiar voice of his wife brought him out of his musings. She had been watching his back all this time, letting him really run loose on the battlefield. Now, she spoke to him with a warning tone. "Don't do anything stupid."

"What? I haven't even done anything."

"I know you want to fight that guy on your own."

Reivan clicked his tongue quietly. That was what he was thinking. "Can you blame me though?"

Though he hadn't been watching the fight for that long, the Argonian's skill was clear for all to see. All of the other Argonians in this area had already been killed or fled—only this one remained. To top it off, the warrior's movements remained practical and measured, as if being completely surrounded by knights wasn't enough to faze him.

Reivan couldn't quite place it, but he could feel something intangible roiling off of the Argonian. Like an aura that would burn him if he came close.

'Is this what Argonians call a hero...?'

The empire really liked to talk about them—great men born in hard times who were just different from the others. They didn't come around all the time, but every single one was allegedly destined for greatness or something. And it seemed Reivan may have perhaps stumbled into one.

If so, then wouldn't he be an idiot to waste this chance to test himself?

Looking around, Reivan noted that the battle lines had already moved on without him, and only Argonian corpses adorned the ground. The knights who passed by looked at the hero fighting six warbeasts and wrote the guy off as a dead man, charging past in favor of finding other targets.

Only Reivan and Helen stopped to watch the battle—which sounded bad because they were essentially slacking off, but by now, the Argonian forces had routed. Most had given up on the fight and fled instead, which meant that it was now the knights' turn to pursue the fleeing Argonians and take out as much as possible before retreating for real.

With the craven having made their move, the hero fighting alone stood out even more.

Finally, Reivan couldn't take it anymore. He stepped up and signaled for the six warbeasts to back off. The Argonian, in response, just stood at the ready, steamy breaths rhythmically escaping his helm.

Reverse summoning his own helm, Reivan smiled at the warrior as he spoke in Argonian—the language he'd just learned through a pearl of wisdom. "What is your name, Hero?"

Of course, he already knew what the Argonian's name was, but still asked for the sake of it.

After some hesitation, a baritone voice answered back in muffled gasps. "My name... is Goriagos. Son of Sogos. And I... I am no hero."

"You could have fooled me." Reivan grinned before stabbing his sword into the ground. Then he gestured at the surroundings that had grown quiet when most of the knights left to hunt down the fleeing Argonians. "As you can see, you are now alone."

"Indeed."

"If things continue, you will die."

"I will."

"Then why not work for me instead? Use your strength to fight for the winning side."

Goriagos didn't even hesitate. "I refuse."

"Mhm. I can't say that I expected you to answer in any other way." Reivan pulled his sword out and pointed it at the lone warrior. "Then you will die."

"Certainly." The hero nodded, falling into a fighting stance with his sword and shield. "But I will not go quietly into the night."

"Wouldn't have wanted anything less."

Reivan laughed and re-summoned his helm. Just as he was about to begin the fight, he sensed his wife's glare—even when she was wearing a helm too. With a glance behind him, he could already sense the small lecture she wanted to subject him to later. "It would shame the order if we needed six people to kill this guy, no?"

Helen didn't move but he could somehow tell that she had just rolled her eyes just from the way she crossed her arms. "Just be careful."

Chuckling, Reivan turned back to the hero. "Sorry about that. In any case, I now give you a shot at dying together with one of Aizen's princes. Be glad."

Goriagos' head momentarily turned to the others watching them before focusing on Reivan again. "So it is true that knights are honorable. It is a good thing to know before I am reunited with my ancestors."

Reivan didn't really know how to react to that, so he just launched all sixteen of his flying swords at the guy while taking a step back. He wondered how Goriagos would react to an attack from all sides. Sure, the shield would cover a lot, but there were a lot of ways around that.

A few moments later, Reivan was shocked to discover that the man could parry the swords in a way that they were redirected to each other. On top of using his shield to block, he also used Reivan's attacks to neutralize his other attacks.

It was in that way that the hero didn't suffer a single wound.

'Okay, this guy's good. Helen and Gwen can do that too, but that's also because they fight me so often.'

Unfortunately, physical attacks weren't the only way he could use his flying swords.

While four of them continued the offensive, the other twelve rapidly revolved in a twenty-meter radius around Goriagos while constantly releasing a frigid white mist that also obscured vision. Reivan then stomped on the ground as jet-black darkness spread out from his soles, spreading outward. Ghostly hands of darkness rose up to grab at the Argonia's legs or limbs, simultaneously sapping the man of both stamina and mana.

The hero's movements immediately became sluggish, making it hard to dodge the swords and the incessant interference of the black hands. He gradually started letting some of the attacks through, his armor ridden with various holes and dents. On top of that, the parts of his armor that the dark hands made contact with were melting off, exposing his flesh to further corrosion.

Piling on the pressure, Reivan calmly summoned a bow and started harassing the hero with arrows—which were easy to swat out of the air or evade for someone of the hero's caliber, but still added yet another factor to consider.

Perhaps in desperation or a misguided bout of inspiration, Goriagos charged out with all his might, trying to destroy or at least disable one of the blades revolving around him. The swords were revolving so fast that a single swing of the man's sword ended up hitting six swords before Reivan could stop the others.

But while this temporarily disabled six swords and allowed the hero to escape the frigid white mist, the man's actions had the unfortunate consequence of leaving him open to attack from the other swords. Reivan naturally wouldn't let such an opening go unpunished, so Goriagos was promptly impaled by three of the blades, each one finding a different spot on his torso.

'Bad idea.'

With a clap of his gauntleted hands, the swords skewering Goriagos started to furiously produce white mist. The man groaned for the first time in the battle as his wounds started to frost over. His knees buckled and he dropped his sword in favor of trying to pull the swords out.

But even when he succeeded, the other flying swords turned the hero into a metal porcupine.

'Game over.'

Reivan couldn't help but sigh. Truly, it was really difficult for someone without an elemental attribute to face against someone who did. Elementalism just provided too big of an advantage—which really made Reivan wonder how the Sword Star got so strong without one.

Suddenly, Goriagos kicked off the ground and pulled back his shield arm with the apparent intention of beating Reivan with it. The man had erupted with so much force that the distance had instantly closed. It was almost as if all of the hero's remaining life force was being used for one last kamikaze attack.

But despite falling into thought, Reivan hadn't let his mind wander away from the battle completely. Even if he'd practically won, a fight was never over until you were back home in your nice warm bed—every knight knew this.

Reivan's bow vanished and transformed into a large shield and a mace. He raised the latter to protect against Goriagos' shield bash before pivoting off his back foot to strike the Argonian's side with the mace. There was a loud crunch as the familiar feeling of crushing steel and bones traveled through his arm. Goriagos groaned and his bare hand reached for Reivan's neck.

But Reivan suddenly erupted with increased strength and speed when he finally activated [Beast Gate]. He'd been fighting without it all this time so he could use it as a trump card to catch someone off-guard.

Just like now. With a casual kick, Goriagos was sent sailing through the air like a ragdoll.

The hero spun mid-air and landed on his feet, barely managing to remain standing as blood spilled out of the slats on his helm.

"Pick it up. I'll let you die with a weapon in hand." Reivan gestured at the hero's sword, fallen by the Argonian's feet. He'd coincidentally launched his opponent close to their weapon, which wasn't exactly ideal but he decided to act like it was intentional.

Unfortunately, his kindness wasn't appreciated.

"Don't look down on me!" Goriagos' roar shook the air. The man's rage could be felt clearly just from that, but the hero still picked up the fallen weapon before charging with his shield primed in front of him, seemingly intending to ram into Reivan.

With a quick step to the side, he let the berserk Argonian pass by before extending his foot a bit forward, causing the man to trip. Just as he was about to strike the falling Argonian, Goriagos pivoted mid-air and almost kicked Reivan's face in if the prince hadn't transformed into lightning in time to avoid it.

'He almost got me with that one.'

Of course, he wouldn't have died from it but it would have been an unneeded injury.

"Aren't you a little too hardy?" he complained out loud as he waved his hand. Immediately, all of the swords skewering Goriagos were pulled out, causing a prodigious amount of blood to leak out of the holes. "A dozen swords. A dozen swords penetrated you, you know? Normal people die from that."

With a sigh, Reivan switched his mace and shield for a two-handed longsword—his most familiar weapon. Then he stepped toward the hero, who had once again fallen to his knees. This seemed like a bad idea, but he'd been draining the guy of mana and stamina all this time—and just now, he realized there was nothing left to drain.

The hero was fully spent now.

Reivan grabbed the kneeling man by the helm and yanked it off, finding the perfectly ordinary face of a man who seemed to be in his sixties. Of course, he knew that Goriagos was actually 178 years old, proving, even more, how wonky age estimations were in a world where aging could be slowed so much. Much like the first Argonian he killed in this battle, Goriagos had the brown skin of someone who spent a lot of time laboring under the sun and brilliant green eyes.

"Nice try." Reivan rested his sword on his right shoulder, engraving the face of the first hero he would slay into his memory. Then, without fanfare or warning, he swung his sword.

'Hm?'

Suddenly, his intuition screamed danger. He didn't know what it was, but something had just burst out of the ground behind him and was aiming to kill him in one fell stroke. His mana instinctively roiled in preparation to transform into lightning or a cloud of dark mist, but then he stopped himself.

Knights were trained to value the instincts they had honed, letting them control their bodies so their minds were free to think. And the logic in Reivan's head made him silence his instincts to ignore the new threat.

Reivan's sword drew a perfect arc through the air, instantly beheading Goriagos. Just before the head slipped off, he took it by the man's hair and threw it into his spatial ring. Goriagos was likely someone famous, so the man's head could be used to demoralize the Argonian forces.

"It was an esper." Helen tapped him on the shoulder. "It suddenly came out of the ground."

"Yeah. Thanks, by the way." Reivan grinned, punching her arm lightly. "Also, fuck these espers. Now I'll have to pay attention to the floor every time I fight?"

"You should probably bring Gwen along personally."

There was, indeed, a lot of sense in that. Gwen's future vision pretty much nullified ambushes after all.

In any case, Goriagos' death signaled the end of their little skirmish. Reivan took out his dream crystal and received the good news that Sir Xander got out safely after crippling the army's supplies. Meanwhile, there were no casualties among the two hundred knights he'd brought with him other than a few wounds and bruises—which were not injuries that his pills couldn't fix.

The pursuing force, originally numbering twelve hundred, was absolutely devasted. According to Gwen, only three hundred survived and managed to escape. It was a much better result than they initially expected, so everyone but the Argonians were happy with this.

"Right." Reivan sighed, unconsciously easing up. "Retreat. For real, this time."

════════════════════════════════

Upon Sir Gregory's suggestion, the knights performed yet another attack just two hours after the first one.

Even though people were a lot more on guard than during the initial assault, very few people actually expected another surprise attack right after one. That was what made it so great. It was like kicking someone down just when they were about to get up. What's more, the medicine Reivan produced could allow the knights to fight without caring for minor injuries.

And though the Beast King's Ichor that he used so extensively couldn't restore the stamina of humans outright, it could do that to fellow warbeasts. Because of that, the Terracatta Knights fiercely threw themselves into battle while knowing that as long as they stayed alive by the end of the battle, their wounds would be healed and their stamina restored to full. They were responsible for killing most of the imperial elites that Samsara's forces encountered.

Of course, the empire's leadership wasn't foolish enough to let their elites chase the knights too far again. But this created a situation where knights could simply remain at range and harass the empire's forces with arrow volleys or elemental attacks. This, ironically, resulted in more casualties than if they chased the knights all the way.

In the end, the Argonian army was attacked a total of six times before the sun fully rose and they lost 130,000 forces of assorted strength in just the first day.

Arc#5 Chapter 20: Interception

[Author's Note]

Happy holidays, to you all~!

I only just realized that my posting schedule coincidentally means that I will post a chapter on both Christmas and New Years, which is nice.

Anyway, I have safely made it to Japan. It is justifiably freezing in here. But being a tropical boy, I'm just really hyped about looking out the window and seeing a bunch of snow.

Like, there's just so much. Holy crap. It's beautiful.

Anyway, here is the chapter. There won't be any interruptions even though I'm on vacation. I wrote a backlog, anticipating how little time I'm actually going to have for writing while I'm here.

Everything is fantastic though. The people, the scenery, the everything. Maybe not so much the food, but that's a hundred percent because it just doesn't match my personal preferences. Everyone else seems to love it.

Whoops, look at me ramble. Anyway, here it is~!

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While the news Sir Xander brought was alarming and Reivan wanted to hear the whole thing out immediately, he opted to gather the part of his staff involved in military affairs before doing so.

Even when the sun hadn't risen yet.

'Good thing I still maintain a disciplined routine. Otherwise, Sir Xander would have waited until I woke up. And that would have been a potentially fatal delay.'

Well, realistically speaking, the knight would have informed someone else who would likely be awake at this time—such as Gwen or Jiji, who similarly lived with the disciplined lifestyle of a knight but weren't recently married.

"Right." Reivan looked around the meeting room and nodded. "We're all here. So if you would kindly continue your report, Sir Xander."

Said meeting room was arranged in a way much like a boardroom, except his spot was on an elevated platform away from everyone else's. His chair could have easily been mistaken for a throne too, except a lot more comfortable because of the soft cushions on it.

In his war council was Gwen, naturally. Then there was Jiji, Iselle the darkin princess, and two knights who each represented House Mercer and the Terracatta Clan. Thankfully, the final two were male, so Reivan didn't feel outnumbered by the fairer sex. Helen was also there, but rather than sitting down, she stood adjacent to his seat like some sort of guard.

"Yes, Your High—I mean, Your Excellency." Sir Xander saluted, recovering from the slip of the tongue that nobody would chastise. A lot of people weren't used to the change in addressing Reivan, after all. "As per your orders, I have been roaming Northern Arkhan and absorbing as much information as I can. Just as I was thinking of returning, I noticed large groups of imperial forces gathering and delayed my return."

"And that," Reivan interjected. "Is when you discovered that they were forming a larger army to march southward?"

"Yes, Your Excellency. I don't have the exact number, but I estimate their numbers to be at least five hundred thousand. But lower than seven hundred thousand. When I left, however, more were joining up so even my estimations may be insufficient by the time they arrive in Lageton's vicinity."

The lone darkin in the room sucked in a breath. "F-five hundred thousand...? That's..."

Gwen turned to her in assurance. "Please do not worry, Lady Iselle. This scale is actually normal for the empire. Their population and territory exceed the kingdom's by hundreds of times. Yet we have had no trouble fending them off."

Reivan nodded in agreement but was internally exasperated. This was the first large-scale battle against humans he would ever participate in and the numbers were like this? Wasn't that a little too much?

"If I may?" House Mercer's representative, a dark-haired middle-aged man named Gregory, raised a hand as he glanced in Reivan's direction. Only after the Hierarch gestured in approval did the senior knight voice his query to Sir Xander. "How much of that number is relevant? I'm sure most of them are mundane soldiers. Anyone in this room can exterminate tens of thousands within an hour if uninterrupted, so there is no need to be too alarmed by the size of the army."

'That's a fair question.'

Given enough time, Reivan could also slay a million mundane soldiers under 100 Might single-handedly. He didn't even need to use any large-scale aetherblade arts—just running around and mowing swathes of people down with his remote blades was enough. It would be slower but would cost him practically no energy to use for extended periods.

On that note, five hundred thousand may not be as daunting as it should be.

'My god... This is the world I live in, huh? I look at half a million and disregard anyone without elite strength.'

In response to the question, Sir Xander could only shake his head. "I admit that most of the soldiers I saw were at the level of ordinary people, probably conscripts handed a spear and a sword before getting sent off to war. Only around a hundred thousand were legionaries."

"Legionaries?" Vino—the representative from the Terracatta Clan—spoke up in confusion. He was yet middle-aged man, sporting the lithe but muscular physique of a predator. Just like all the normal Terracatta Clan warbeasts, he had hair the color of clay, which extended to the fur on his tail and the ears atop his head. His stubble, strangely enough, was graying a little.

Gwen had informed Reivan that Vino may have had a bit of resentment for him because the warbeast representative had numerous brothers who couldn't join the war because of the limitation Reivan implemented. Still, Reivan barely noticed any resentment so far.

In an attempt to improve rapport, Reivan smiled as he answered. "Legionaries are imperial career soldiers. They are normally equipped with guns and are delegated to commanding imperial levies. Also, they are somewhat decent in various aspects of warfare."

Vino grunted in understanding. "So they are similar to knights? Is that right?"

"Oh, no. Not in the slightest." Reivan shook his head. "Legionaries still haven't unlocked their Qi, so they are still considered mundane soldiery. They are close, though. The closest equivalent to knights in the empire are called Imperial Vanguards, which is a status that legionaries aim to be promoted to. Those are the ones we have to watch out for most, along with espers and homunculi."

"I see..." Vino dipped his head toward the Hierarch in respect. "Thank you for enlightening me, Your Excellency."

"Not at all. I'm sure you already know what espers are, right?"

"I've not seen any yet, but I and the others from my clan have learned the arts to deal with them."

"That's great. I'll be counting on you, then."

Vino offered a feral smile and nodded.

'There we go. We're playing nice.'

Quite satisfied with himself, Reivan turned his attention back to Sir Xander. "I won't even ask for an estimate of how many espers they have, given how tough they are to pick out with the naked eye. But surely, you have a count of how many homunculi were in the army? They're not exactly easy to hide, after all."

"Yes." Xander saluted. "At the time, I spotted around three hundred of them, chained up at the rear of the army."

'Three hundred... That's a fucking lot of monsters...'

Homunculi was yet another name Aizen assigned to one of the empire's forces. Similar to Espers, Reivan didn't quite agree with the term they chose. But that was only his opinion as someone more intimate with fantasy culture back in Modern Earth. The linguistic experts of the kingdom only knew homunculi as a word pertaining to an artificial lifeform made through alchemy.

If Reivan had gotten to name the monstrous creatures the kingdom called homunculi, he would have christened them under the blanket term of "abomination".

To him, when he heard the term "homunculus" he would think of an artificial human being. Alchemists in stories usually wanted to play god when they dabbled in making homunculi, so they would obviously aim to create something human-like. Alternatively, they made homunculi to act as servants or assistants, which would be more aesthetically pleasing if made in the likeness of mankind.

Of course, there were the occasional alchemist stories that made a homunculus and added their creation to the harem, but Reivan didn't want to remember those stories.

The "homunculi" in this world were never made to look like humans. They weren't even humanoid.

Hell, their appearance wasn't even uniform. Each homunculus looked subtly different from the other. The only similarities they had were their quadrupedal forms and being the size of a mansion.

Reivan had never seen one in person before, but Stella had told him that they were huge. They were also hard to control, often going after both ally and foe.

'Good thing all homunculi are mortals. Though only Senior-grade Knights can take each of them down.'

If that was the case, then he may be in a bit of a pickle if there were really three hundred homunculi. He still didn't know how many Imperial Vanguards there were in the large army marching southward, but just the number of homunculi alone closely matched his number of Senior-grade knights.

Vanguards would further complicate things. And as a general rule of thumb when battling the empire, there were always more Vanguards than there were homunculi.

Despite the unpleasant news, only Iselle seemed nervous. Though Vino may been calm mainly because of ignorance. Both the darkin and warbeasts were relatively new to the Sentorale Continent, so their knowledge needed to be filled out.

"How fast are they moving?" Jiji asked, getting the discussion back on track.

Xander answered quickly as if expecting the query. "By my estimate, they should arrive in three months."

"Oh." Vino's ears perked up. "That's a long time. But I suppose with that many people, it's understandable."

Unless one had hundreds of sky arks, mobilizing an army in the hundreds of thousands was going to be difficult. Such a large collection of people would obviously move at a snail's pace. Much less, an army lugging around giant monsters that wanted to tear apart their allies just as much as they wanted to devour their enemies.

"Though I said they were marching in Lageton's direction, their purpose isn't Lageton specifically," Xander continued calmly. His Aizenian features had entirely lost Valter's likeness after countless generations but still managed to give off a similar impression of dependability as his ancestor. "They are simply marching southward and conquering whatever they come across. That is also why they are so slow, though the size of their army is undoubtedly a factor as well."

According to Xander, some Arkhanian settlements had banded together to form their own little nations. And upon news of the large army, these nations banded together as well.

Unfortunately, they weren't enough for a concentrated imperial effort, so they fell. The people they were protecting were rounded up and sent back to the empire's mainland as slaves too, though quite a few managed to flee for some strange reason.

'Ah. Maybe it's because of them...?'

Reivan thought back to the Sons of Arkhan. The last he heard from Filth was that they were focusing on activities up north. So perhaps the mysteriously capable organization was helping evacuate people. For all their presumed hatred of foreigners, the Sons of Arkhan was a patriotic organization—and it seemed they were proving that patriotism right now.

That said, that aid didn't seem to include force, sadly. He supposed they didn't have much in terms of muscle, so to speak.

Regardless, he needn't concern himself with the Sons of Arkhan at the moment. The obvious issue was what to do with the gigantic imperial army that was trampling over the republic right now.

'A larger army that travels slowly... I guess there's only that tactic, huh?'

"Right." Reivan looked around the room. "Sir Gregory, Sir Vino, and Dame Gwen. You are to gather all the Senior-grade knights under you and join me outside the city in thirty minutes. We're going to harass the imperial force and whittle it down as much as possible. Standard tactics apply."

It was a common play for Aizen, who was historically disadvantaged in terms of numbers. Sir Gregory, as a veteran of Fort Alexander, most likely had immense experience in this regard. Vino may have had no experience in knight tactics, but his age alone told Reivan that the warbeast had been old enough to be considered a combatant when the Terracatta Clan were still landless vagabonds back in the Eastern Continent.

As for Gwen, she was coming with him just because.

Reivan then turned to Jiji. "You're in charge of preparing the forces that remain here, just in case we have to fall back and endure a siege."

"Understood." The white-haired princess bowed in her seat. "I'll also ask home for reinforcements just in case."

"Uhm!" Lady Iselle raised her voice suddenly, her hand in the air. "What about us? We can be of help in the battle as well."

"You're not a good match for this type of mission, sadly." Reivan shook his head. "The empire is accustomed to being on guard against air attacks. Avian spirit beasts are common in Arkhan, meanwhile, the kingdom has House Mercer's wind elementalists."

"But..."

"I'd much rather have the darkin stay here in case any more of those Lava Demons show up." Reivan cut her off, looking into her eyes. "I hope you do not underestimate the significance of me asking your kind to protect the place that we will all return to."

"Ah." Iselle gasped in shock for a moment before resolution filled her face. "I will absolutely make sure that Lageton stays safe, Your Excellency."

"That's what I like to hear. I'm counting on you, Lady Iselle."

Reivan stood up with a smile.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's get to work."

════════════════════════════════

Reivan would have liked to personally say goodbye to Elsamina and even Mira, who obviously wasn't going to come with the harassment corps.

But there wasn't enough time for that, especially when he had his own preparations to make. They probably weren't even awake yet, with how early in the morning it was. A short message was all he could do. With any hope, he could return quickly enough before they worried too much.

As for Helen, Reivan hadn't addressed her in the war council because he was certain that she wouldn't allow him to leave her behind.

'Not that I would have. She's too strong a card not to use. Even though I wish I didn't have to.'

Dawn's light barely peeked out of the horizon when Reivan and around two hundred knights departed Lageton. Each and every single one was a Senior-grade knight of at least 800 Might, though most were already near the peak of human potential—hell, the warbeasts all surpassed that easily, being superior to humanity on a physical level.

One hundred from House Mercer, another hundred from the Terracatta Clan, about a dozen from the forces assigned by Aizen to him, plus Reivan, Helen, Gwen, and Xander—who was resuming duties as the replacement Guardian Knight in place of Valter.

Two hundred against at least half a million were odds even the most drunken gamblers wouldn't bet on. But their aim wasn't to eradicate the army or rout it.

They were wolves.

The knights simply intended to tear off some flesh with their fangs and claws. If the army tried to chase after them, they would retreat, possibly drawing enemy forces too far from the main force. Then they'd turn and devour those who chased too far before repeating the same tactics from the beginning.

'It's very hard to catch a knight when they just full-on flee with no intention of fighting, after all.'

════════════════════════════════

Sir Xander had estimated that the army would reach Lageton in three months, but that was not a testament to the distance between the army and the city. Large groups of people traveled slower in general, not to mention how the imperial forces intended to quash any resistance in their way.

The army itself wasn't far, all things considered. And it took Reivan's group only one week of nonstop running to catch up to it. If he couldn't produce medicine that restored stamina, they would have been delayed by the need to rest but they were able to maintain their ungodly pace thanks to him.

'That... is a big fucking army.'

Having lived in the capital of the Aizen Kingdom, Reivan was used to seeing a large amount of people concentrated in a relatively small place. But this was his first time seeing so many soldiers in one spot.

Needless to say, it was a grand sight.

Reivan and Xander left behind the others because they were quite literally the only ones who had the [Darkness] attribute, drastically lowering the chances of being discovered. It would have been great if foliage still existed for them to hide behind, but most plant life had been wiped out in Arkhan due to recent events. Luckily, night had just fallen, providing a cover of darkness for them to use as they saw fit.

Despite being practically invisible and having zero presence to detect, both Reivan and Xander were taking extra care not to be discovered by hiding amongst rubble or boulders. One could never truly be too careful.

While the two of them scouted out the enemy forces, the others took a much-needed breather after an entire week of mindless running. The Terracatta Clan helpfully created a small underground chamber for everyone to hide in while waiting for the order to strike.

Numerous tents were sprawled out across a wide plain, with countless soldiers bustling about like ants. Pillars of smoke were rising here and there, presumably produced by fires from cooking. With how hot it was, nobody would be dumb enough to make a fire for the fun of it.

'It seems Sir Xander was right about the numbers possibly increasing...'

The number of the common tents told him that there would be a minimum of seven hundred thousand people. That didn't even include those that probably housed higher-ranked combatants.

Reivan wiped the sweat forming on his forehead before turning to the most noticeable part of the army. Gathered at the back of the army were mountainous forms, all struggling under their shackles. If it weren't for the large metal muzzles keeping their maws shut, they would no doubt be filling the night air with their monstrous roars.

Given their feral nature, Reivan immediately thought of setting the rampaging beasts free. However, that was a recipe for disaster. He didn't want those homunculi running around Arkhan and potentially killing innocent people. It would be one thing if the empire did that while he wasn't around to stop it, but he wouldn't do that himself.

"Now that I have more leeway to observe..." Xander suddenly pointed out certain items jutting out throughout the camps. "See those banners, Your Excellency? They all have different crests on them."

Reivan squinted as he followed his finger. "Oh, you're right... Huh. I thought this was one massive imperial army, but maybe not?"

"Then that means they are a coalition of different groups. I apologize, I am not well-studied in imperial heraldry."

"Don't worry about it. I'm not either."

'Luckily, we don't have to.'

Taking out a dream crystal, Reivan asked Gwendolyn if she knew about the crests and got the affirmative answer that he'd expected. Apparently, some of the crests belonged to imperial clans, while most were actually from various noble households. Meaning they weren't actually a united army and were merely working together. It was, however, possible that they agreed upon a single chain of command, which meant Reivan couldn't expect to cause discord easily by taking out any random officer.

"Your Excellency,"

"Hm?"

"I believe I've found their supplies..." Xander pointed out a different spot, far away from where all the monsters were. "There. See? Carts upon carts of supplies."

Reivan, again, followed the knight's directions and smiled. "I suppose not everyone has the luxury of having a nearly limitless supply of spatial storage artifacts. Not even the empire."

Food was another requirement when waging war. Even Reivan and the others would be hard-pressed to fight on empty stomachs for months.

Luckily, Aizen's military forces had few mouths to feed. The kingdom's rate of production when it came to food could easily support it.

On the other hand, the empire didn't have it so easy. Though their expansive lands and territories ensured they also had a high rate of production, they also had a lot more people to account for. The same went for their armies. Every military campaign, such as this one, took lots of preparations.

'That's going to be one of the biggest targets to hit.'

But rather than just stealing or destroying it, Reivan's thoughts lit up with dark brilliance.

The food supply would, eventually, end up in a soldier's stomach. Didn't that provide a different sort of opportunity? Rather than making the empire retreat for fear of hunger, only to eventually return a few months down the line... Wouldn't it be better to eradicate as much of them as he could now, when the opportunity presented itself?

'Sadly, the Crimen Virus can't thrive in the current environment...'

The Crimen Virus.

A virus developed by Professor Discrimen, a royal scholar discredited by the royal academy because of his insistence on studying viruses. One of his crowning achievements, aside from the virus that took out espers, was a virus that specifically targeted Argonians. Sadly, both viruses couldn't thrive in outer temperatures of above ten degrees Celsius. Reivan would have to wait until the temperatures all across Arkhan cooled back down before he could even consider using the biological weapons that Aizen's local mad scientist invented.

Fortunately, he could produce various poisons too. Ones that didn't choose who they killed.

For a moment, Reivan hesitated to actually put such a plan into action. It would be a knot of guilt in the back of his mind for a while on top of setting a precedent in the war—that poisoning food was fine.

After deciding that the cons outweighed the pros, Reivan decided against poisoning the imperial supplies and just destroying them.

"Sir Xander," Reivan handed him a spatial storage ring. "You're in charge of sneaking in and getting rid of the supplies. Runestones are difficult to make for mortals, so we can only use the spellballs that the Tower provided. But they're more than good enough. Use more of them than what you think you need. Better to use too many than too few."

"Understood. But then the supplies would be wasted. Are you sure we can't just steal them?"

"It would complicate things and we also aren't hurting for supplies anyway. And if you steal them, then they believe they can still take it back and pursue you. But if they're set aflame or destroyed, some of them will waste time trying to salvage what they can."

"Brilliant. I will do as you command."

Reivan chuckled sheepishly. Rather than brilliance, this was all in a military manual years ago. "Still, that only pertains to food. If you spot anything useful then go ahead and steal it."

Xander nodded. "Then shall I go now?"

"Hm... Yes. But wait until I give you the go-ahead through the dream crystals before making your move. Just put yourself close to the supplies and suss out anything worth robbing."

With that, Xander disappeared into a cloud of black mist that blended into the air as it flew in the direction of the imperial camp. At this point, even Reivan couldn't detect Xander if he closed his eyes.

════════════════════════════════

After going back to the others, Reivan began handing out duties—which wasn't all that difficult. There were loads of war records available in the royal archives, and he'd studied quite a few when he was idly waiting for his wedding preparations.

In Step One, the Mercer Knights would basically be the point of the spear. They would wreak absolute chaos on one side, killing as many soldiers as they could while avoiding prolonged engagements. With the force of a hundred knights, the empire wouldn't be dumb enough to charge in an equal number of Vanguards—they would gather up way more before mounting a counterattack. But before they could, the Mercers would already be retreating.

Step Two involved luring the main forces away if they gave chase or simply continuing the retreat if they didn't. If the former happens, the Mercers would eventually turn around to fight together with the Warbeasts, who were hidden in the flanks to protect the Mercers from ever being surrounded while they were wreaking havoc in Step One.

Step Three, on the other hand, was just waiting until the imperial forces let their guards down and repeating Step One somewhere else.

As for Xander's role in destroying the supplies, that was a one-time thing that would happen between steps one and two. That way, the empire forces would have their attentions split.

With their roles assigned, the forces of Aizen—well technically, they were the forces of Samsara right now, but whatever—made their final preparations before heading off to their assigned positions. During Step One, Reivan would be joining the Mercers before going off to do his own thing. Gwen would be left behind to take over for him in case something weird happened, and Sir Gregory's experience set his mind at ease concerning the timing of when to retreat and when to resume the offense.

Reivan, wearing an undecorated suit of full plate to cover everything below the neck looked outward, gazing at the site of his first real battle against a human force. To be honest, he had thought that he would be more nervous or even afraid—not because he was scared of what may happen to him, but because he was concerned about what he could do to others.

But as his golden eyes beheld the people he would slay, as his nose caught the subtle scent of steel, and as his ears heard the drumming of his heart, Reivan realized that he felt none of the emotions he expected to feel going into this battle.

Instead, he felt excited.

Suddenly, a heavy gauntlet landed on his shoulder. "Well, would you look at that? You're one of us after all, Your Excellency."

Reivan turned to the side to see Vino, the Warbeast of the Terracatta Clan who had also donned full plate. "What does that mean?"

"I mean that you're a warbeast too." Vino grinned as he jerked his head to the people behind them. "It's in the name, Your Excellency. We were built for this. For war."

With a raised brow, Reivan glanced behind him to see almost a hundred pairs of golden eyes staring right back. Was it his imagination that their gazes seemed to carry a more intense glow than normal?

Did his own eyes carry the same glow?

Judging from the way Vino seemed to be treating him with more familiarity, that seemed likely.

"No mercy, Your Excellency." Vino once again patted his shoulder, a little stronger and more affectionately this time—like a brother in arms—before turning around to leave. "When your nature tells you to grant them kindness, try to remember if they would extend that same kindness toward you. I heard those imperials are fond of enslaving the defeated? I bet they'd love to make a slave outta you, the prince of a nation they've been in conflict with for millennia."

Reivan chuckled in response, realizing that the warbeast was right, despite the savage nature of his ethics. He spent a few moments watching the man's back recede before turning back to the battlefield and summoning a helm.

With a grin that nobody could see, he spoke.

"Let us bathe in their blood."

There was no response, no shouts and hoorah. But Reivan felt more than a hundred people unified in silent agreement.

Arc#5 Chapter 19: Reclamation

Someone once said that just by thinking of something bad happening, you help it become a reality.

Reivan really wanted to find who said that because they might just be right.

'I can't believe I actually found an esper in my fucking city...'

Just as he thought that Lageton was clean, he found an esper on the last gathering he needed to check. There was just one, but that was still one too many by his standards.

Helen, who was standing right next to him as he stood on the edge of a tall building's rooftop, must have noticed his change in demeanor because she looked toward him and asked. "Did you find one?"

Reivan sighed. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Then we need to kill it fast," she said, turning pensive for a moment. "Come to think of it, if the esper planned to cause an incident, wouldn't it have already done so by now? There's so many people gathered here, after all."

"You have a point..."

"Is it alone? Have you checked everyone else? It would be tragic if we took one out and unknowingly tipped off the other."

"You're right." Reivan licked his lips and pointed out a particularly burly man among the crowd in the plaza below. "Watch that one. The big blonde oaf with a rifle on his back. I'm going to make sure there aren't any other espers here."

Helen nodded and gestured for him to go on, so he did.

Offering up a silent prayer, Reivan examined all the other people in the crowd and sighed in relief when he didn't find any other espers.

'Alright. If it's just this one, then there's not much of a problem other than our abysmal security.'

They would really need to tighten up regulations. It would be very inconvenient to any refugees rushing to Lageton in hopes of security, but potentially letting an imperial esper into any populated city was a recipe for tragedy.

Even Arkhan had a history of entire villages and unprotected cities falling to a single esper.

"I'll deal with this one quietly on my own. Wouldn't want to cause a panic when everyone's finally calmed down a little." Reivan turned to Helen. "But watch out in case I somehow mess up."

"Will you, though? Mess up, I mean."

"No way. But just in case, y'know?"

Helen nodded and gestured for him to go on.

Reivan smiled and turned into a cloud of black mist that rematerialized into his disguised self right in the middle of the festive crowd. He navigated through the forest of bodies and snatched a mug of beer from a man who was obviously too drunk to finish it.

The esper in question looked unassuming and blended in perfectly with the crowd; his clothes were somewhat tattered and dirty from days or maybe even weeks of use, his face was unshaven, his hair was frayed, and he was also armed. With how dangerous the situation was, having a gun was expected among the more recent refugees, so carrying one around didn't even attract second looks.

Practically nobody knew that the man in question didn't need a gun to deal fatal damage to hundreds of people all at once.

'I gotta pull him away from the crowd first.'

Reivan contemplated how he would go about accomplishing such an endeavor but froze.

He didn't even need to think of a way because his target slipped away on its own, not even pretending to be part of the festivities. Fortunately, this further proved that the esper didn't intend to cause a scene for now.

'Today's my lucky day...'

Reivan pretended to be a drunken citizen as he tailed the esper. Along the way, he clinked mugs with drunken men and somehow got kissed on the cheek by a somewhat elderly lady. He almost got into a fight too but managed to get out of it by sucker-punching the moron just hard enough for a knockout.

Finally, the target entered one of the buildings designated as a temporary shelter for refugees. Which was perfect, since there probably weren't too many people inside right now. After all, the free food and drinks given away outside were significantly better than any of the rations everyone had been for weeks—it was all you could eat and drink too, so they could have as much as they wanted.

Anyone still inside at a time like this either couldn't go outside or weren't interested in delicious food for some reason or another.

Reivan hurried his steps, shedding his feigned intoxication to tail the esper all the way until he saw the target enter a bathroom.

'Perfect.'

Turning into a cloud of black mist to close the distance in the shortest time, Reivan seeped through the gaps in the door and reformed within the bathroom, a dagger in hand. Surprised, the esper tried to lash out but was immediately slain by a dagger penetrating the side of its head.

But it wasn't over yet because killing the host body only forced the esper out of it. If one really wanted to get rid of an esper, it had to be killed twice—using special means of attacking ethereal creatures to finish it off.

Reivan naturally had his methods, so just as a hideous spectral face jumped out of the corpse, Reivan swung his other hand and punched out with a glowing fist to shatter the esper once and for all.

'And that's the end of that.'

The corpse fell but he stored it away in one of his spatial rings. He didn't know the person that the esper possessed, but Reivan would give the unlucky fellow a proper burial along with the other esper victims he slew yesterday. Luckily, the corpses were fresh enough that [Supreme Insight] still tacked a name on them, such as "So and so's Corpse" or "That Person's Corpse". If too much time had passed, his ability would have just labeled it "Corpse"—or worse, "Human Meat".

In any case, because he knew their names, he could add them to their tombstone. Who knew, maybe a relative would find it one day and achieve some sort of closure. The last thing he wanted was for them to hold out hope for years only for that hope to never come to fruition.

'This is really distasteful.'

Reivan licked his lips and beat down the disgust he felt. Sure, he wasn't the most innocent person and he admitted that he would kill without question if it was to further his nation's interests.

But there was just something repulsive to killing a person, defiling their body, and wearing it to wreak more havoc. Even he wasn't that bad. He may have stolen Clover Salwyn's identity for a while, but didn't he give the guy an opportunity for a good life in exchange?

He was not the same as these imperial scums. And he was finding himself increasingly proud of it.

════════════════════════════════

The next few days were relatively peaceful.

A normal ruler would have their hands full managing domestic affairs. But he was a Senior-grade knight with various special abilities and two spiritual companions near the same level—his talents would be wasted if he was made to sit behind a desk all day.

Of course, once things died down he would probably have to take up those kinds of duties, but things hadn’t died down yet.

And besides, there wasn’t much to do in all honesty. The best course of action at the moment was to let the land heal and for the people to gradually rise back up. There was still the issue of currency having lost its value, but he and his staff already had a plan for that.

Elsamamina was also living in the palace per his orders, so it was very tempting to just stay inside and indulge in hedonistic desires. But Reivan was a man of iron will, so he managed to satisfy himself by spending time together at dinner.

Helen, naturally, was present as well. Because of that, supper was always nerve-wracking with his wife and his wife-to-be sharing a table. But he took what he could get. At least they weren’t at each other’s throats because that wouldn’t end well for Elsa if violence entered the equation.

In any case, with Jiji—his “advisor”—back in the palace to hold the fort on the domestic management side of things, Reivan had taken Gwen and a sizeable force with him to reclaim nearby areas.

Reclaiming sounded impressive, but it didn’t actually mean that he would have people live in the reclaimed settlements as is. Rather, the point was to acquire resources and create outposts in the area from which to launch further assaults.

If push comes to shove, they would retreat and fight any opposing forces in the reclaimed lands, essentially turning it all into a “buffer zone” to minimize the chance of combat bleeding into the populated areas.

Furthermore, if there were still people living in those places, Reivan and his forces would forcefully relocate them to Lageton. After all, with the empire sending espers and giant balls of lava bursting out of the ground like some sort of Dark Souls boss encounter, anyone staying in such an unprotected land was either suicidal or mentally impaired.

No matter how much they insisted on staying to protect their property, one’s life was always the most valuable. They could just return once the area was secured in the future anyway, so there was no need to risk it all by staying there now.

Reivan’s party was met with great luck, acquiring numerous factories and production sites. And with the help of the battlemages from the tower, they had managed to find a cache of War Golems—massive steel titans that had served as Arkhan’s foot soldiers against the empire for centuries.

“I’ve seen them a few times back in Vel Ayala,” Reivan craned his neck and narrowed his eyes, his gaze trained on the giant mass of steel. “But these fuckers are really massive. They must be ridiculously expensive to make.”

War Golems were the height of a ten-story building at a glance, and instead of looking like humans, they had six crab legs supporting their hulking upper body. There were a lot of turrets on its shoulders and its arms ended in a pair of pincers—which had cannons within them.

‘It’s very obviously based on a crab-human hybrid of some kind…’

Despite that, it didn’t look goofy at all. Rather, it looked incredibly imposing just on account of its sheer size. There was no way common soldiers were going to look at this and go “Yeah, we can fight that motherfucker!” or something.

Reivan and his forces only managed to reclaim ten of these big boys, but there were smaller golems who were still as tall as three men stacked on top of each other. These were also modeled after crab-men, but they sadly did not have cannons inside their pincers.

These were excellent finds because they were disposable.

Golems weren’t alive after all and so far, nobody had started a “Golem Lives Matter” movement or something along those lines. That’s why he could just leave them in very dangerous areas without much consideration.

Strength-wise, a War Golem would require the aid of a Junior-grade Knight at least, because anything less than that would be crushed under sheer mass or would be too slow to evade. The smaller Assault Golems, on the other hand, would destroy anything below the 100 Might threshold but would still damage those above it, though only slightly.

‘It’s morbidly interesting that the Battle Golems can ride the War Golem by being stored in their stomach… Agh, now I imagined a Helen version of a War Golem…’

Sometimes, he cursed his active imagination.

“Apparently,” Gwen spoke from beside him, similarly observing ten War Golems march back to Lageton, each containing a hundred Battle Golems inside them. “We will have to secure pilots for each one.”

“Yeah…” Reivan sighed. “I thought for sure that they were automated. I never knew they were being remotely piloted.”

“That’s not strange, Your Excellency. The kingdom also thought they were controlled by a form of artificial intelligence. If the mages from the tower hadn’t revealed the truth, we never would have known.”

It was one of the most well-kept secrets of the republic’s army that their combat golems weren’t automated, but rather, controlled by a specialized soldier very far away.

While somewhat disappointing because his small dream of having a maid robot died with the news, it was still impressive. Arkhan had pretty much eliminated the risks that mundane soldiers took in war. Sure, battlemages were still at risk, but they weren’t exactly mundane, given their supernatural powers.

‘We could take this and implement it in Aizen, no?’

The main reason why the kingdom didn’t employ a standing army the same way the empire did, was because they didn’t want to risk so many lives in a fight that could be decided by the presence or absence of a particularly powerful individual.

A Senior-grade Knight would plow through a mundane army in the tens of thousands given enough time. So there wasn’t much of a point to employ such weaklings in war. It would place more burden on their elites, but that was a worthy trade-off.

With these golems, the kingdom now had a way of increasing its forces without placing anyone at risk.

‘And another thing…’

Reivan thought back to Lady Iselle and the rest of the darkin still somewhere in the Outlands.

If these golems could be controlled remotely, they would be perfect scouts to send into the accursed place. Sure, the golems wouldn’t make it very far, but that was a fact for the current golems. Who knew what kind of improvements the kingdom’s artificers would make if they had their way?

According to the mages, there was a separate organization that focused on training golem pilots, and only a few of them were ever in the tower. The smaller Assault Golems stayed within the War Golems’ stomachs not because it was more efficient, but because they didn’t even have enough pilots to use all of them.

Samsara had fifteen pilots, and ten of them were busy controlling the massive War Golems from the safety of the Mage Tower in Lageton. So even if Reivan had millions of War Golems at his disposal, they would all just be mountains of useless steel unless he found the golem pilot organization—which was apparently called “The Golden Gear”.

Yes, he could just have the fifteen pilots he did have to train up some new ones, but there were tens of thousands of pilots just waiting for him to recruit if he played things correctly.

‘How unlucky. So they were based in Southwestern Arkhan.’

Samsara was very far away from there.

Fortunately, because Samsara was at the eastern edge of the former Arkhan, he was poised to control the entire east portion and have a bid for the south and center—where Vel Ayala used to be. The East focused on industrial endeavors, so there were actually golem factories here.

This fact luckily removed any trouble he had with securing the necessary tools and apparatus to chug out a bunch of golems.

Securing the Golden Gear meant that he wouldn’t have to risk the forces he got from Aizen too much. Ideally, he would use Arkhanian forces to defend Arkhanian land.

‘Hm… Rather than march there, it’d make more sense to go by airship—I mean, by sky ark.’

Riding a giant flying ship across the sky was very flashy, and would undoubtedly reveal his location to any enemies who still had working eyes. But to him, the risks were well-warranted. Furthermore, it went without saying that the Golden Gear probably had even more golems at their disposal.

For now, though, he would send a few of the golems and some of the spare pilots to Aizen.

“You did really well, Elder Voltares.” Reivan looked to the side, where an elderly wizard stood, waiting to be addressed. “If you keep showing your loyalty, I won’t treat House Demoscene unfairly.”

“Of course, Your Excellency.” The current head of the Demoscene Clan—one of the Four High Magus Families— smiled. “I’m sure the other three houses will be more cooperative soon.”

“Let us hope so.” Reivan chuckled, gesturing at the old man. “But I won’t forget that it was the Demoscenes that stepped forward first. You have my gratitude.”

Seemingly very pleased by this, the old man smiled.

‘Lip service like this is essential. Can’t forget.’

Reivan then rubbed his chin. “Elder Voltares, remind me if I’m wrong, but your house focuses on having Water-attribute spirit beasts, yes?”

Voltares Demoscene nodded promptly. “That is right, Your Excellency. House Barial prefers fire, Morval prefers wind, and Sentel is partial to the earth-attribute.”

“Ah, then doesn’t that mean House Morval has been helping us from the start? Many mages with avian spirit beasts have been patrolling Samsara’s surroundings.”

It was Gwen who answered. “Most of the patrol team are unaffiliated with the Four High Magus Families, Hierarch Reivan. Though there were a few from each house, actually, being avian doesn’t guarantee that a spirit beast has the wind attribute.”

Reivan’s brows raised, realizing that made sense. After all, Grace—Gwendolyn’s swan-type spirit beast—didn’t have the wind attribute. “Forgive my ignorance. I’m not embarrassed to admit that I’m not very knowledgeable about spirit beasts.”

“But of course, Your Excellency.” Voltares chuckled good-naturedly, but Reivan didn’t miss the wily glint in the old man’s eye. “If you are curious to know more about spirit beasts, I can teach you more about them. Or better yet, our clan has many youths your age that can assist you in these kinds of matters.”

‘Oh, my days… He’s trying to set me up with someone in his clan…’

Thinking about it, such intentions likely weren’t unique to House Demoscene. Once the Four High Magus Houses realized he had dozens of concubines lined up, they were likely to offer some candidates of their own.

And honestly, it made sense to agree. It would solidify the relationship between him and these four ancient families.

‘All I wanted were Helen and Elsa…’

He’d read about political marriages a lot back in his past life, and he always thought they were so outdated and were annoyed at the trope. Now that he was in a position of power, however, he realized just how necessary they were at times.

Times like these.

‘Agh, fuck it. I’ll leave tomorrow’s problems to tomorrow’s me.’

“I’m going to have to ask for your support once again, Elder.” Reivan gestured vaguely in the direction of Southwestern Arkhan. “We will need to send a quick expedition to retrieve the personnel of the Golden Gear that you mentioned.”

“You have it, Your Excellency. You have it.” Voltares rubbed his palms together and bobbed his old little head. “If I may be allowed to ask… Do you intend to go by air?”

“Hm? Of course. It’s the quickest way and we can transport all the personnel and even some equipment through the sky ark.”

“But would that not carry the risk of being discovered by any enemies? I heard espers tried to assassinate you and even infiltrate the Great City of Lageton…”

Reivan briefly wondered where such a grand title for Lageton came from, but refocused on the subject at hand. “There are risks, yes. But do you have an alternative suggestion, perhaps?”

It seemed he was right, because Elder Voltares grinned. “You just mentioned this earlier, Your Excellency, but the esteemed mages of my household mostly have water spirit beasts…”

“Ah.”

Reivan realized what the elder was implying immediately.

‘He plans to go by sea…’

Certainly, there were a lot of merits in that. Argonia had no sea presence in Arkhan’s southern coasts, so any journey through it would be faced with no obstruction and would be relatively more secretive than flying through the air.

Reivan’s gaze met with Gwen, and he immediately realized she had a question. So he nodded to signal her to go ahead.

“If your house does take on this task,” Gwen asked, staring stoically at the elderly wizard. “How will you transport all the personnel and any relevant equipment?”

“We have whales, Secretary Gwendolyn.” Voltares smiled. “My spirit beast just happens to be one. And a few others have whales as well. There will be no trouble ferrying a few thousand people from Lageton to the Golden Gear’s base.”

“Hmm…” Reivan licked his lips as he sunk into thought. Honestly, this sounded like a better idea than going by air, purely based on how much more secretive it was. “I like this idea, Elder Voltares. But I’m curious why House Demoscene is so enthusiastic?”

“I’d like to say that we only wish to serve…” the old man trailed off with a grin. “But I’m sure nobody here would believe that.”

“True enough. So? What is it that you’re aiming for?”

“Preferential treatment, of course,” Elder Voltares shamelessly admitted. “And a small sky ark would be nice.”

Reivan scoffed but found himself unable to suppress a grin. He really didn’t hate these kinds of people; their desires were all laid out in the open and that made interactions much easier. “I can’t promise that I can be too partial to House Demoscene. It would not be wise to break my image of impartiality this early, no?”

“Of course, Your Excellency. This humble one misspoke.”

“A sky ark can certainly be arranged though.”

To that, Elder Voltares smiled so wide his teeth were laid bare.

════════════════════════════════

More days passed in relative mundanity.

Lageton had received a large influx of citizens forced into evacuation, in addition to sorcerers who had kept said citizens alive through the heatwaves. These sorcerers weren’t battlemages, but rather, mages who had failed to get accepted to the tower in their youth but still retained their skills in sorcery.

They would be a useful addition to the new tower, which would now focus on sorcery. After all, they had “lost” the Sanctuary where they obtained spirit beasts, so the mages were on their own now and were much less picky about who they invited into the tower—which had now been renamed to the Mage Tower.

Reivan hung out in the refugee area to suss out any espers and diligently his among the patrol parties to catch any espers by surprise. Fortunately, none showed up, so his efforts were wasted.

As for land reclamation, Lageton could still somewhat sustain Samsara’s population so Reivan’s staff decided to focus on developing the city into a place worthy of being a nation’s capital—with a thriving population to match.

Good news just kept on coming too, as the temperature stopped being fatal.

It was still at around roughly thirty-eight degrees Celsius—which was still quite high, but was still at a manageable level. Some tropical regions back in Modern Earth experienced such temperatures during the summer, so Lageton was no longer plagued by a supernatural level of heat.

This was achieved by finding all the awakened volcanoes or any chasms where magma seemed to have burst into the surface at some point, then plugging them up with loads of earth with the help of earth-attribute knights and spirit beasts.

Nobody knew when such a method would cease being functional. Of course, Reivan and his staff were aware that it was just a stopgap and were still alert to any more of those giant lava balls.

Despite everything, Samsara’s situation was steadily improving and so was the general mood of the populace. There was even a petition for the factories and production line to be started up so that people could get back to making a living. With the Arkhanian economy all but shattered, it seemed the people intended to sell their products to Aizen—which was certainly possible despite the lack of demand.

What Reivan really wanted them to try was agriculture, but the land was still a bit too damaged for that. Again, all they could do was wait for time to do its thing.

Reivan held a modest hope that things would continue to go well, but one day, on a lazy afternoon, Sir Xander returned from his solo mission to the north with grave news.

The empire was sending an army in the hundreds of thousands in his direction.

Arc#5 Chapter 18: Duties

[Author's Note]

It's a bit late because I was too busy preparing for my flight and getting to my flight, but...

HAPPY NEW YEARS!

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Even though the uninvited guests from the empire were dealt with rather easily, their mere presence here had very alarming implications.

One was that the empire had reached a point in the invasion where it now felt like it required information about what Aizen was doing. And another was how easily espers managed to sneak so close despite frequent sentries.

Though not as sharp and absolute as an Ascendant's senses, even mortals could somewhat detect presences around them as their bodies improved. Reivan could do the same as well, and that included Helen, Gwen, Jiji, and all the other knights Juinor-grade and above. Their senses were just much sharper than ordinary mortals, allowing them to notice other living beings through subtle changes in the surroundings—such as a scent, the anxious heartbeat of someone trying to hide, footsteps against the floor, the crunch of grass as it was crushed underfoot, and even the way a breeze seemed to be interrupted by something.

Basically, a mortal could detect other beings by noticing signs of life around them.

Espers got around that by, well, not being biological creatures in a normal sense.

It was the benefit of being an ethereal creature similar to unmanifested spirit beasts. Sure, they could inhabit a human and that human would technically still be alive. But it was enough for them to simply hop out and hide their body underground whenever a sentry passed by, then jump back in to continue infiltration.

Though Espers, as they were so inaptly named, weren't much of an existential threat to knights who were above a certain level of ability, the ghastly creatures were still troublesome to deal with because of this.

'Great. Now we have to check the entire population to find any espers that infiltrated.'

Reivan felt a headache as he climbed into bed with Helen. They both weren't really in the mood to get freaky tonight, which was fine.

His mind was too full of complaints about all the work he would undoubtedly have to do. Aizen had its own way of detecting them, but the easiest way was for him to use [Supreme Insight].

It was enough for him to look at their extra skills to see if they had abilities called [Poltergeist]. The ability was something a lot of people likened to his [Formless Will], so he'd made sure to research it. Unlike his gift, [Poltergeist] didn't lose power when aimed at targets with wills of their own or were affected by the will of other entities—such as weapons and armor among other things.

That said, [Poltergeist] was apparently much more effective on objects than other living creatures. This made Reivan's ability sound as if it was a much weaker version, given how [Formless Will] only had negative modifiers.

But this was not actually the case. Reivan's ability had the benefit of scaling off his physical capabilities. Meaning as he got stronger, [Formless Will] would too. Meanwhile, [Poltergeist] remained the same no matter how strong the esper was, making it ineffective when fighting opponents above a certain level.

That was why none of the espers Reivan and Helen fought used it—they were all aware that the two knights wouldn't even feel a thing. Now, if the couple were Elementary-grade knights on the weaker end of the spectrum, things would be drastically different. They wouldn't even get to fight at all, the esper would just snap their necks with a snap.

'If it went on a rampage in a populated area, it could take a tenth of Lageton's population before it gets taken down. Guess I'll have to hunt secretly.'

This ability of his was actually part of the reason why he needed to be the one to stick around in Aizen's vassal state.

The fact that he was male and a member of the royal family was just an add-on, so to speak. It wasn't as if the kingdom couldn't just hand over the duty to House Mercer. Reivan's ability was secretly the greatest contributor to why he was now its ruler—the position gave him an excuse to be present, without inviting suspicion from the enemy or something along those lines. If the empire sent espers to assassinate the puppet state's leader, Reivan would definitely not fall for any disguises.

Still, the best case scenario was if proper detective measures were placed in Samsara too. All around Aizen were various ways to detect any espers trying to infiltrate, making it only a matter of time before they were quietly taken care of in the shadows when their guard was down from the elation of success. Samsara didn't benefit from those measures, however. Not yet, anyway.

"Rein," Helen called out, sitting beside him on the bed. "Are you still thinking about it? The espers."

"I am," he nodded. "We can't let their presence out. Not now. Not when people are already anxious."

"Hm... What're you planning to do, then?"

"I'll have to start with checking every citizen to see if they're espers. Then we now have to set up stricter watches around the area. And any new refugees from now on will have to stay far from populated areas until I can personally inspect them—which I'll do while I'm in disguise."

Her brows furrowed, and she held his head and directed it to her lap. "Sounds like it'll be a lot of work."

Reivan smiled as he used her thighs as a pillow. They weren't as soft and full as his mother's used to be, but these were his thighs. Only he would get to use them—until his kids came along, he supposed. Sharing with them wouldn't be so bad. "It is. Good thing I'm just a figurehead here and I can leave all the boring administrative stuff to others. You'll have to come with me during the inspections though."

"I would've done so even if you didn't tell me to. Sir Xander's not back yet, after all. When will he, by the way? He's supposed to be your replacement guardian knight, so surely you won't send him out for too long?"

"He'll bring back news soon enough. And I can't help sending him out. Among the knights under my umbrella, he's the best guy for this particular job. He also has an Arkhanian identity so he can sneak around better than others."

Of course, Filth was potentially a great choice too. But Valter's descendant was better for this particular undertaking.

Though Filth surpassed Sir Xander in terms of stealth, the gap in terms of mobility and versatility was insurmountable. If combat was required, Xander would have way more options than Filth, not to mention how Xander could deliver the information to Reivan much faster.

'Besides, Filth is already doing something with that strangely capable organization.'

Reivan frowned every time he thought of the so-called "Sons of Arkhan". Judging from his previous encounter, he'd written them off as an overzealous group of misguided patriots. But recently, he was getting forced into revising his opinion of them.

'It'd be great if we could recruit whoever has the special ability regarding escape points.'

There seemed to be a number of downsides—such as not being able to set up an escape point near areas where escape points were recently placed—but the superpower's utility went without saying. For one thing, it would be a tremendous boon in exploring the Outlands. Of course, it would be useful in the conquest of Arkhan's former territories but Reivan inherently treated the matter as a done deal, though it would take a lot of time. He was very confident in his country.

'Heh. I guess I've become a bit of a patriot too.'

Reivan chuckled when he thought of the time when he didn't really care about the country that much. It felt so long ago now. Though of course, his family was still higher up in his heart, Aizen and its people had grown on him at some point.

"What's so funny?" Helen asked as her willowy hand gently played with his hair.

"Nothing." Reivan smiled and looked up at her. "Your lap feels nice."

"Is that so? If you're well-behaved, then I can do this more often."

"So not that much, huh? A shame."

════════════════════════════════

“Have the projectors been set up?” Reivan raised a brow, turning to Gwen as he smoothed over his clothes. They were a bit stiff and not all that comfortable, which was par for the course when they prioritized elegance and majesty.

Only his upper body would be shown, but he was still wearing full regalia, choosing a white and gold ensemble instead of his usual black and gold.

‘My brother and father wore these all the time… Oh well. I’ll get used to them at some point.’

Maybe he just felt uncomfortable because they were unfamiliar. When he stopped to get a better feel, they weren’t much different from what he usually wore—except the gold was dialed up from five to ten.

“Yes, they’re ready.” Gwen nodded while fiddling with the dream crystal on her wrist, seemingly communicating with someone. “Unless they’re holed up indoors, everyone in Lageton should be able to see it. That said, all of the citizens have been gathered in various open spaces too, as per your orders.”

“Fantastic. Let’s get this over with before I forget the speech I wrote,” Reivan joked with a grin.

With his memory, there was no way he would actually fumble. Still, this was his first speech as a monarch so his nervousness could cause him to mess up.

‘Hopefully, I don’t stutter or bite my tongue.’

Reivan took a deep breath before walking out onto a wide balcony overlooking a square full of people.

Well, “overlooking” was a bit of a stretch given how high up the balcony was. Most people wouldn’t have the eyesight sharp enough to make out his features. But there was supposed to be a projection in the sky behind him to fix that somehow, offering everyone a close-up view of him.

It was a similar setup from the time he fought three senior-grade knights in an exhibition match.

Reivan hadn’t planned to do one under so much fanfare, but given recent events, there was a glaring need to alleviate the people’s unease. It was not enough that the republic collapsed and the weather fucked it up right after. Now, giant balls of lava could be seen floating near the horizon, seemingly seeking to burn away what little semblance of home they had left.

There were apparently voices stating that they should just move to Aizen, which made some sense.

But they had to stay here because it would set a bad precedent. If Reivan allowed it once, he would have to do it again and again. Should the entirety of Arkhan be colonized, would that mean that the entirety of Arkhan’s population would have to be moved to Aizen because it was more convenient to live there?

Obviously not. There was no way they would all fit, given how much smaller the kingdom was. In the first place, the kingdom was already on the verge of suffering from high population density, to the extent that they were expanding underground.

That was why the Arkhanians had to stay. They sadly could not be allowed to mass migrate to Aizen.

It was part of Reivan’s duties as the figurehead Hierarch to make them want to stay.

“Good day, people of Samsara.”

Reivan spoke in fluid Arkhanian with all the confidence and poise he could muster. He had given thought to what type of face he would show to his people. Though the temptation to seem like an approachable and relatable leader was there, he decided against it.

In the end, he chose to capitalize on the royal family’s prestige. The fear and awe it inspired, almost as if they were chosen by the gods to rule the world.

Yes, it would make him seem distant. Like an entity that could never be reached. But that was fine.

The people needed to be assured that this nation wouldn’t flop. And to ensure that, a normal guy wasn’t going to cut it.

It had to be someone great. Someone worthy.

Reivan would play that role.

“I’m sure you know who I am by now,” he said. “But let me say it anyway: I am Reivan Aizenwald, prince of the Aizen Kingdom. Now, I am the Hierarch of Samsara, the nation you all now belong to.”

He paused for effect, staring calmly at a floating ball in front of him. This was the “camera”, though the artificers were calling it a “Glass Eye”.

Some were even calling it the “Eye of the King”. There was a pun to be made here, but Reivan didn’t want to say it aloud because he personally didn’t approve of puns.

‘It's the Eye-zen. My god. Hopefully, nobody ever says that in front of me. I might riot.’

Tossing aside his random thoughts, Reivan continued his personally prepared speech while making sure to keep his expression relatively stoic.

“I may not be the ruler you asked for.” Reivan calculatingly raised his chin, showing a smidgen of arrogance. “But I am the one you need.”

‘Pause here again.’

There would be a lot of pauses like this, he mused. Silence, unironically, was an integral part of public speaking. When done right, they placed weight and emphasis on what was said, while also giving people time to digest the words.

Hopefully, he was doing it right. But when he practiced in front of his family earlier, they said he was doing great. He would have to believe they were right.

“Though things don’t seem to be going very well at the moment, what with Martial Law being established shortly after my arrival. But bear with me. I know what I am doing.”

“Need I remind you, that I come from a long and prestigious line of rulers,” Reivan recounted. “When the republic of Arkhan was still a smattering of small nations who fought each other over every inch of territory, my ancestors had already built and stabilized the kingdom. That was thousands of years ago, yet the kingdom still stands—with my family as its rulers.”

“Every generation has ruled the kingdom with wisdom and fairness. Now, you find yourselves under the rule of one as well.”

“It will not happen immediately, but I will fix this nation if you all cooperate.”

Finished with his pompous introduction, Reivan once again let the silence hang in the air for a moment before continuing on to his agenda.

“I am aware that certain events have… alarmed you all. But rest assured that everything is under control. The kingdom has survived worse and we are prepared to aid the people of Samsara in their path to recovery.”

Suddenly thinking of something, he then directed his gaze at a tall tower with four floating islands chained to it. “Additionally, we have also gained support from the esteemed mages who have stood as Arkhan’s guardians in the past.”

Then he smiled and looked back into the Eye-zen. “Not to mention the Warbeasts of the Terracatta Clan and the Darkin who have offered up their strength to protect you all from harm. And though you may have your reservations of religion, the Church of Sormon’s healing services are free for all who are ailed by injuries or maladies.”

“Samsara has everything it needs to recover now.” Reivan raised his hand to chest height and deliberately clenched it. “We just need to give it time. And it is guaranteed to happen.”

He held that pose for a few moments before letting his fist fall to his side.

Then he smiled.

“With all of that out of the way, I feel that recent times have been too gloomy. So I propose a modest celebration to commemorate the birth of our nation.”

“The birth of Samsara.”

This time, Reivan paused not because of his speech. He did it because his personnel were setting up stalls to give away wine and food in all the plazas, squares, parks, and all the other places where people were asked to gather.

Once he believed he’d stopped enough, Reivan continued.

“I am sure the past few weeks have been so grim that you haven’t had the chance for any sort of merry-making. Many have died and many more lives were affected by the horrible tragedy that befell the republic. If you feel that way, then treat this as a reminder.”

“A reminder that it’s not over yet.”

“The sky may fall and the ground may erupt in an explosion of fire and brimstone.”

“But as long as there is life, there is a chance to rise again. And I will make you all rise again.”

Reivan knew he was laying it on a little too thick, but this kind of stuff apparently worked better. Besides, maybe his sensibilities as someone from Modern Earth were making him feel that way.

“Samsara.”

“It’s a word from a language few know of, and it pertains to the cycle of death and rebirth.”

“Tragedy has all but slain the republic of Arkhan. It is now but a shadow of what it once was.”

“But that does not mean it will remain that way. With my and the kingdom’s help, you will rise. And perhaps, we will all come out stronger for it.”

“It is with that hope that I chose this as the name for our new nation.”

“Samsara.”

“Every time you hear that word, I hope you remember what it means. That while Arkhan is no more, Samsara is here—and it is with that name that you will prove to the world that your people are not done yet. That you will not stop! That you cannot be stopped!”

Somehow, his words seemed well-received because he could hear the shouts and cheers coming from all over the city. Reivan couldn’t help but smile, feeling good about himself and relieved. He’d done his best to come up with the speech and his family and staff seemed to approve—but he thought they might just be saying it because it was him.

The cheering felt as if the people had accepted him. As if they approved of him. And there was no way that wouldn’t feel good.

Reivan retrieved a goblet of wine from his spatial ring and held it up in a toast.

“To our Samsara.”

Then he downed the half-filled goblet in one go. Most likely, not everyone in the city had wine in their hands. But it was the thought that counts. There was plenty of opportunity to toast each other instead, given how he had ordered for food and wine to be given out until dawn the next day.

He had even hired Arkhanian performers to spice things up a little.

With his goblet empty, the speech had also ended. Now, he would have to depend on nationwide inebriation to raise everyone’s spirits.

His job was not over yet, however.

════════════════════════════════

After grabbing Helen—who was hiding her appearance through an artifact and plain Arkhanian clothing—Reivan flew over to the nearest gathering venues and chose a spot that offered him a good view of the people.

Just in case, he had changed his attire to something simpler and also taken on the appearance of a random Arkhanian man he had seen months and months ago. With [Reality Falsification], disguising himself was as easy as snapping his fingers.

Transformation still hurt like a bitch, though. He really hoped it wouldn’t.

“Should I move farther away?” Helen asked from beside him, sporting a homely face and blonde hair. She looked nothing like her real appearance, meaning her disguise was effective.

Reivan shrugged, looking around the rooftop of the seven-story high building they chose as their observation point. “No need for now. Nobody’s going to look too hard up here. And only those with particularly sharp mana sensitivity can see through your disguise.”

She nodded before turning to the bustling plaza below. “Well, it seems spirits have been raised.”

“Yeah…” he muttered as he followed her gaze.

Men and women were smashing wooden mugs with each other and taking large swigs with happy looks on their faces. Children were participating too, though they were only given various types of fruit juice. Food that was easy to carry around was also given out freely.

It was like a festival.

‘They’re blowing off steam. That’s good.’

Given the cold climate in the past, Arkhan had a very intimate relationship with alcohol. So having it freely given out like this did wonders for the general mood of the citizens, not to mention how it reminded them of times when everything was still fine.

Maybe it also filled them with hope for the future too.

Furthermore, it showed just how secure the food situation was. If the ruler themself was giving out so much, then that had to mean there was plenty to go around. The wine itself proved this, as it was not a necessity—but a luxury that most people enjoyed in the past.

With any hope, this would set the people’s minds at ease regarding the scarcity of food.

Smiling to himself, Reivan began his work of examining each and every single person in the plaza to see if they were possessed by an esper.

Simultaneously, he was looking for anyone with a special ability and doing census work. There was a glaring need to have better records of who and how many people there were in his nation. Of course, his staff would handle the nitty-gritty details, such as verifying and issuing identification papers, but he could start some of it himself.

Taking out a dream crystal, Reivan began scanning the people one by one while recording the information he saw as well as a portrait of what they looked like when he took a look at them. His staff could use the records he took as a cross-reference.

‘Say goodbye to paper trails. The future is now, baby.’

This would be one of the innovations he would implement in his regime: the use of dream crystals and holostones to record things instead of paper.

He’d grown up looking at his father and brother buried in mountains of documents, so he naturally didn’t want to follow in their footsteps.

Processing the information through dream crystals was instantaneous because of how they linked to the mind. Only knights and people who could be truly trusted were allowed to use them though, but that was fine because he was obviously allowed to.

Holostones were a little less convenient, but they at least didn’t use paper and could send information to other Holostones within a fairly wide radius, making them very convenient.

Furthermore, with Reivan’s suggestions and input, the kingdom’s artificers managed to create a type of “server” crystal that could hold massive amounts of information. Holostones with access permission were the only ones who could, well, access the information. And depending on who they were, they could also change or add to it.

‘If it goes well here, even the kingdom’s going to implement it.’

One of the dream crystal's and holostone's weaknesses was how they couldn’t store a lot of information for a long time the same way documents could. Now, that weakness had been resolved somewhat and Samsara would be the testing grounds of an administrative revolution.

Reivan wasn’t all that hyped about it, but Gwen and Jiji were both ecstatic. He got a lot of praise for his input.

After a few minutes, Reivan finished checking and recording the information of around a thousand people.

“Didn’t find anything?” Helen tilted her head.

“Yup. Not a thing.”

“That’s good.”

He ended up not discovering anything of particular interest, but that was actually a good thing, in a way. Sure, it sucked that he couldn’t find anyone with a special ability, but not finding one was better than encountering an esper.

Gathering citizens in such a large group placed them at enormous risk if the esper decided to throw caution to the wind after all. It was the main reason why Reivan wanted to check everyone stealthily like this.

“Let’s go to the next place then.” Reivan put his dream crystal away and pointed west. “We have to finish this before people start going home from getting too drunk.”

“Mhm.” Helen nodded. “I’ll watch your back while you work.”

“I appreciate that. C’mon, let’s go.”

And so, Reivan’s first day as Hierarch was spent giving a speech, spreading the wonders of alcohol, and doing mind-numbing census work.

It wasn’t the flashiest set of duties, but it had to be done.

Once the nation was stabilized, he could then start going on the offensive against the empire.

‘Sending assassins, huh? I’m not going to just let that slide, you fat fucks.’

Some retaliation should be in order.

Arc#5 Chapter 17: Ghost

Just as Reivan, Helen, and the giant serpent they were riding on passed Lageton's city walls, Reivan realized that it probably wouldn't be a good idea to make his heroic entrance this way.

Zouros had an effect on spirit beasts, after all. One that involved scaring the shit out of them with his mere presence.

That's why when they got close enough, Reivan called Zouros back and shamefully piggybacked on Helen. She could fly on account of her affinity with the [Wind] element, after all. And he wasn't heavy enough to hinder her.

'Oh, my days... This is embarrassing.'

It was a good thing Sir Xander—Valter’s descendant and the one slated to fill in as Reivan’s guardian knight here in Samsara—wasn’t here, otherwise, the ride would get pretty awkward. Reivan had sent him away to scope out the situation over in the northern portion of Arkhan.

That said, even without Zouros, he could summon Dom as a steed instead—though his lupine companion wouldn't like being ridden one bit. Given the battle situation though, it would be ill-advised to approach his forces so suddenly. Friendly fire was unlikely, but the chances weren't zero. Flight always had the weakness of being in the enemy's line of sight, but in this case, it worked to their advantage because their own allies could see them coming and know they weren't enemies.

Besides, sneaking up on that giant ball of lava wasn't feasible. In the first place, they didn't even know how its sensory organs worked, so how could they skirt around it?

'Seriously though. That thing is massive.'

It had looked huge from far away, but it looked even bigger up close. Actually, it was messing with his sense of perspective. He wondered how to go about defeating such a foe.

As it turned out, the forces in Lageton had taken out a couple of them, so that meant it wasn't impossible.

In any case, he now had some leeway to examine the battle.

"Don't move around so much," Helen complained.

"My bad." Reivan chuckled sheepishly. As expected, he was a little bigger than Helen and found it hard to mount her properly. It was a lot easier when it was that kind of mounting, but he had no interest in being piggybacked.

After squirming into a somewhat stable position without annoying his wife, Reivan redirected his attention to the battle.

Surrounding the Lava Demon were twenty or so darkin circling in the sky, firing streams of black fire when they sensed an opportune time to attack. Using fire against lava seemed like it should prove fruitless, but somehow, it was working. Where the dark flames licked, everything vanished.

Reivan still didn’t quite understand why or how it worked. But it did, and that was a good thing for them.

Other than them, there were also numerous knights running around on the ground and firing off various elemental attacks, never staying in one spot for too long. Some, probably knights from House Mercer, were flying similarly to Helen and blowing away the lava.

Surprisingly, there were quite a few battlemages too, each flying on avian-type spirit beasts while firing off streams of blue light that shaved off some of the lava as well. Where these lights struck, the lava would harden and fall off, landing on the ground in an ashen splatter.

‘They’re not really aiming for anything in particular… Just shaving away at the lava.’

Reivan was horrified to realize that because the Lava Demon didn’t have any particular weaknesses or exposed vitals, the only way to kill it was by shaving all the lava down.

It was an undertaking that must have taken an incredible amount of time. Not to mention the sheer heat the Lava Demon constantly releases is enough to burn someone’s hair off even if the person isn’t that close.

‘Plus, it’s not as if the thing just stands there and allows itself to get fucked.’

Sometimes, tendrils of lava would reach out and make a grab for the many flying creatures buzzing around it like flies. Sadly, this wasn’t very effective because the darkin, knights, and the spirit beasts were all keeping a respectable distance from the orb that allowed them ample time to react.

Another form of attack seemed to involve simply shooting clumps of lava at people, which was much more troublesome to deal with but also accelerated the goal of whittling it down.

‘That’s it, though. It’s not that complicated.’

Really, it seemed the only extraordinary thing about these so-called Lava Demons was how tenacious and hardy they were. The bastards were certainly difficult to kill, he’d give them that.

“Attacks that affect large areas are better against it than lethal ones,” Helen muttered loud enough for him to hear given their proximity, though the wind blowing past his ears almost made him miss it. “Don’t you have that thing? With the swords and the ice.”

“I do, indeed.” Reivan nodded. “We gotta get a little closer though. We’re still too far.”

“On it.”

Along the way, the darkin and knights noticed Reivan and Helen’s arrival and were visibly relieved when the new arrival wasn’t an enemy. No doubt, some of them were disappointed after finding out that their reinforcements were just a young woman with a dude on her back.

They quickly realized that the “dude” in question was Reivan Aizenwald though.

“Hello~!” Reivan waved at them as the distance closed. And when he was finally at an optimal distance, he summoned about a hundred swords and sent them to surround the gigantic Lava Demon on all sides.

Though he was limited to sixteen flying blades while fighting elites, he could control a lot more if he didn’t need very fine-tuned control of each one. He just made a bunch of swords through his soul armament and went ham.

There was no refinement or grace to the trajectory—only brute force.

Reivan didn’t know if the giant ball of lava was sentient enough to ignore the blades because pure physical attacks were ineffective against it, but it made no move to defend against the blades.

‘Stupid bitch.’

All one hundred blades suddenly burst out with a thick cloud of frost, managing to cover a significant portion of the giant lava creature. It was such an intense display of icy energy that the heat filling the air until now was temporarily replaced by a freezing cold.

When the white mist cleared, a significant portion of the Lava Demon fell off as hardened lava.

Seemingly seeking to fix itself, what remained of the lava was pulled into the center, reforming the creature into a sphere once again—except it was a lot smaller than last time.

‘Well, I definitely did tons of damage.’

Reivan chuckled breathily, his mind muddled by how much mana he’d spent all at once. “Helen, look. I did that. I’m awesome, right?”

Helen nodded. “Mhm. Really awesome.”

“Heh. That’s right. Butter me up, baby.”

“You’re the best. The strongest.”

It may have sounded somewhat sarcastic, but Helen wasn’t the type of person to use that particular weapon a lot—unlike Jiji. That meant her compliment had a bit of sincerity to it—though he didn’t know how much of it was just said to flatter him.

“You’re drained though.” Helen pointed out with a smidgen of worry tainting her voice. “We should go back now.”

After a little while, Reivan managed to banish the dizziness of mana exhaustion. “Didn’t you want to fight something? You know, get the muscles moving.”

Helen turned her head to the giant lava ball that was now being ganged up on even more fervently by knights, darkin, and battlemages. Then she shook her head. “Seems boring. I’m fine with just going back like this.”

‘Guess she has a point.’

From everything he’d observed, this Lava Demon was similar to an MMO raid boss.

They were huge and extremely hard to kill. But if you studied their attack patterns, had decent equipment, and good teammates, then it was possible to defeat them. It would be a long, boring, and repetitive raid, but it was possible to defeat it like this.

And victory was all that mattered.

Such things didn’t appeal to his wife much. If she was going to fight, she wanted to use the opportunity to improve her skills by using the opponent as a whetstone—even if the battle ended up being a lot harder. This adversary wouldn’t provide that.

In fact, he also didn’t find the Lava Demon worthy of his attention when he saw what it could do up close. He may complain about it sometimes, but his temperament was similar to Helen's in a lot of places. This was just one of them.

‘At least I looked pretty impressive to my subordinates!’

In Aizen’s royal family, it was imperative that one’s subjects didn’t consider the ruler as someone who only stayed safe in the confines of the palace. They had to know that if push came to shove, the ruler would fight alongside them, rolling around in the dirt and mud to defend this tiny little corner of the creation named Aizen.

Administrative skill was important, but in a world of violence and the supernatural, having a hard fist to use when necessary was the best.

Though it was a small and ultimately insignificant bit of help, the point was that Reivan proved to his citizens that he wasn’t just going to order people onto the battlefield without the willingness to go there himself.

“Let’s go back,” Reivan said. “It’s almost time for bed too. I really want to see how you can be so sure our first kid's going to be a boy...”

Helen hummed in agreement before turning around and flying back to Lageton.

Reivan stopped her though, asking to be let down. He initially thought he’d get used to piggybacking off his wife, but he was wrong. It was still uncomfortable and embarrassing at the same time.

‘I showed up to my subjects like this! My dignity is ruined...!’

After being let down, he summoned his cranky wolf mount to ride instead. And just as he’d expected, the orange light coming from behind them gradually dimmed halfway through his trip back.

It was a sign that Samsara’s forces were just a few steps away from victory.

As he smiled in satisfaction at this, his body suddenly tensed up and transformed into lightning to create distance from his previous location. Helen had done so at the same time as him, turning into a gust of wind that took to the skies. Dom had also followed after him, apparently taking his lead but unsure of what was happening.

Moments after they both got out, a dozen black-clad men came swinging out of the ground with their spears, maces, and axes.

Reivan grimaced at the unexpected assailants. “Who the fuck are you idiots? Do you know where you are right now?”

Not waiting for a response, Reivan stomped on the ground.

‘Good thing I still have just enough in the tank to do this.’

From the spot he’d stomped, an impenetrable darkness spread outward. Tendrils of darkness grabbed at the mysterious assailant’s feet and rapidly drained them of magic power.

This was the same technique he used on the public exhibition match where he first fought Gwen. Except the affected area was much smaller. On the other hand, the drain was much faster because of training and general insights on how to improve it.

The absorbed magic power immediately restored a good portion of his depleted mana given that there were twelve targets.

‘Good stuff. Now we’re back in business.’

Reivan snapped his fingers as even more tendrils spawned to wrap around the assailants.

The assailants were immediately but silently alarmed, trying to cut off the tendrils and make a run for it. But before they even finished cutting off one, more would have grabbed at them. It was a never-ending cycle, and little did they know that their own magic power was what fueled the tendrils.

Perhaps because of that hopeless situation, one of them took something out. Judging from how the arm’s muscles tensed, Reivan expected that something to be thrown.

As expected, some kind of throwing knife was lobbed toward him, but with a casual wave of his hand, the knife stopped mid-air and flew gently into his hand. With a casual inspection, he discovered it was laced with poison.

‘This is strong, but weaker than the poisons I’ve memorized. Haha… They tried to poison the guy with a poisonous body with this much.’

“Fools.” Reivan sneered as he gloated. When fighting other sentient creatures, angering them often invites mistakes. “You think your meager abilities can take me down? Go back to your mothers and suck on their tits a bit more then come back.”

“Rein, you’re being too much…” Helen grimaced at him. “Isn’t there no need for mind games with opponents this weak?”

“Ah. I guess you’re right. My bad.”

“It’s okay. Just don’t waste time like that next time.”

‘She’s pretty good at this.’

Her words seemed to anger them more than his, in fact. Their struggles against the shadow tendrils were growing more intense. Was it because the insults came from a pretty woman? Men certainly got hurt by insults from women more than other men, after all.

Sadly for them, their struggles were futile.

Flying swords stabbed them from behind, the razor-sharp tip emerging out of their stomachs. Their bodies immediately tensed up in pain, but nobody could muster up any strength as they bled to death on accursed grounds that sapped them of both stamina and strength.

Eventually, the assailants grew limp as every ounce of energy in their body was drained out.

“Gonna interrogate them?” Helen guessed.

“Not me. I’ll ask some more experienced hands.” Reivan shrugged, taking out a small vial that contained a liquid healing potion that Saintess Frey asked him to try out. He’d tried it and it was good, but the holy power in it couldn’t be replicated by his ability, making it useless for him.

Frey sent him crates of the stuff, so he needed reasons to burn through them.

Controlling the vial remotely with [Formless Will], he floated it over one of the more cooperative prisoners. The cork was soon popped and the leafgreen liquid poured into the man’s body.

“What do we do with the others?” Helen gestured at the other eleven assailants.

Reivan looked at them too and remembered how he would have lost his life if he hadn’t spent his childhood getting hit in the back of the head during training. His intuition saved his bacon once again.

‘Try to assassinate me, huh?’

He shrugged. “I only need to interrogate one of them, no?”

With another snap of his fingers, the swords stabbed into the other assailants twisted with a fleshy crunch as the scent of blood permeated the air around them.

It was a bit messy, but offering mercy to one’s enemies was risking the lives of his loved ones.

Reivan threw a glance at all the corpses and then snorted. He then walked over to the one he’d saved and took up the mask covering the mystery man’s face.

‘Huh.’

He’d expected some ugly bastard with a face that even a mother wouldn’t love. But what he found was a completely shriveled-up face that looked like it should be wrapped in bandages and belonged in a sarcophagus.

‘Shit.’

Immediately realizing what the assailant was, Reivan blew the body away with a quick and powerful pulse of [Formless Will]. He then kicked off against the ground to create as much distance from the Argonian Esper.

Just as he’d feared, the criminal he’d spared exploded in a shower of blood, flesh, and bones. Even the other eleven corpses did too.

Ghastly specters with long flowing white hair erupted from the unfortunate men. Shrieks of madness rasped out of the ghostly mouths like a twisted welcome to the world of mortal kind. Long grey arms ended in sharp white nails while everything from the hips down ended in a spindly pair of legs that were nailed together, floating off the ground.

‘Fuck. It really is the empire, huh…’

He supposed it made sense. Reivan had sent Sir Xander to spy on the empire’s activities north so it made sense that the empire would do something to monitor Aizen’s actions in Arkhan.

‘They must have seen an opportunity to assassinate me and took it.’

If Reivan had stayed back, these assailants wouldn’t have revealed themselves at all.

‘Unlucky.’

Reivan clicked his tongue as he summoned a sword, preparing for combat. Most likely, some of the people fighting the Lava Demon discovered the anomaly happening to him and were rushing to his aid.

But he didn’t think he needed them. Though troublesome, he could handle a couple of espers. And besides, Helen was here.

‘They really got it wrong when they named these things espers.’

Reivan couldn’t blame the past scholars of Aizen, though. All the modern earth shit was left behind by the First King through notes. The natives of this world justifiably didn’t understand certain nuances that only those from Modern Earth would understand.

These specters had psychokinetic abilities and could read minds. That was why the ancient Aizenians called them espers.

On the other hand, Reivan knew that wasn’t quite right.

‘They’re wraiths. Or ghosts, specters, phantoms, or whatever.’

Because some people kept comparing his [Formless Will] to these things’ psychokinetic powers, Reivan did some reading on them and discovered that they definitely weren’t “espers”.

Espers didn’t possess people and eat their host’s flesh to eventually gain a body by which to interact with the world.

As for the psychokinetic powers, he supposed they were similar to “poltergeists” or something along those lines. Reading minds would also be easy if you literally possessed someone. That was most definitely not how an esper did it.

Sadly, Reivan couldn’t correct his nation’s naming mistake. So he was forced to just live with this irksome fact gnawing on the back of his head.

‘In any case, let’s deal with these shits first.’

Capturing them alive was impossible since that required a lot of prior arrangements, so he could only kill these wrait—espers, he meant. He would have to kill all of these espers to prevent them from possessing some other poor sap.

“There’s twelve.” Helen kept her stoic gaze on the espers moving to surround them as she brandished a saber, with a dagger waiting on the other hand. “That should be six each if we split it… But how about we race to seven? No large area techniques.”

Reivan grinned. “Interesting. I’m up for it.”

“Loser has to come up with ten name suggestions for the baby.”

“Eh, wait a minu—”

“Ready. Go.”

‘You little…! Lemme talk!’

They came out to find a good time, but the good time had found them.

Not one to waste time, Helen’s eyes flickered with lightning before she vanished. Two of the espers immediately evaporated, a third one barely blocking her blade with its sharp claws.

Suddenly finding himself on the back foot, Reivan rushed the nearest espers by turning into lightning. He wasn’t as fast as Helen and he never would because her affinities were just built for speed.

Fortunately, he didn’t lack power.

Time seemed to slow around him as he reappeared in front of a hapless esper that didn’t know its unlife was turned into a competition between husband and wife.

Its reaction speed seemed extremely fast because it tried to block despite his sudden assault. But Reivan’s blade broke through its feeble claws and parted it in half.

‘That’s one!’

To speed things up, Reivan summoned his sixteen flying swords, not forgetting to imbue them with a special aetherblade art that made it possible to attack incorporeal enemies—like espers or knights who abused the technique of turning into elemental energy for a moment.

Espers completely nullified physical attacks against them despite being able to attack at the same time. That made them troublesome opponents for younger knights.

‘Beginner-grade and Junior-grade knights, I mean. Gotta get used to those new ranks…’

He was technically very young, and yet, he was a Senior-grade knight after all. Youth and age had little to do with strength and ability in this world.

Reivan then rushed yet another esper and cut it in two with little resistance. That created an opening that two other espers wanted to capitalize on but Reivan just scoffed.

A giant snake's head bit down from above and swallowed one of the espers. Meanwhile, a large white wolf with golden crown-like horns jumped out of the shadows to tear the other esper apart with claws and fangs.

‘She said no large area techniques, but she didn’t say I couldn’t ask help from the tenants living in my soul!’

It definitely wasn’t cheating. Sure, he felt like shit because he was breaking the honor of a duel, but he felt too burdened by thinking of ten names for his child.

What if he came up with a shitty name? Wouldn’t his kid hate him forever?

He didn’t want that at all. Not one bit.

‘Three! Four more to go, boys! Help me out!’

Zouros enthusiastically snapped up another one while Dom casually turned another into a popsicle with a single breath.

Reivan was just about to kill his sixth one while targeting a seventh one with his remote blades when both of them were cut apart before his blades even touched them.

“I win.”

Reivan swiveled over to his wife to find her holding up a peace sign with a crossbow in the other hand.

A tiny green lizard—no, it was a dragon—landed on her shoulder and proudly puffed out its chest while looking at Reivan.

“This little one is very fast as well.” Helen smiled and tickled the mini-dragon’s chin, causing it to coo in a way he didn’t know dragons could. “I expect a list of possible names by next week, okay?”

Reivan sighed as his shoulders slumped. He did lose this one, so he reluctantly nodded. “Understood…”

Seemingly amused at him, Helen smiled. “You should get used to naming children. Aren’t you supposed to father dozens?”

“Don’t even remind me… I wish there was a book with a bunch of names.”

“There is one. But I don’t want you to use it. Come up with something on your own. Isn’t that a worthy birthday gift to your child?”

‘Why does she have to make so much sense…?’

Reivan sighed once again but resolved to get better at naming things. For his kids.

════════════════════════════════

With the sheer gap in ability, the two Senior-grade knights made quick work of the twelve espers and returned to Lageton without any additional incident.

Reivan ended up losing the impromptu contest that Helen proposed. Despite the bitterness of his defeat, he couldn’t help but once again realize why the rest of the world called knights monsters.

Espers were by no means weak.

They were incorporeal, meaning you were fucked if you didn’t know magic, didn’t have a spirit beast, or didn’t know elementalism. Using Qi or Mana would be mildly effective, and essence even more so. But by the time you killed them, would you still be alive?

Not to mention how espers had no fear of death, unlike humans.

Fast reflexes, razor-sharp claws, great speed, and the ability to turn invisible or hide in someone else’s body for a while made them very troublesome if you weren’t overwhelmingly stronger or extremely prepared.

Yet either Reivan or Helen would have had no problem fighting all twelve. Heck, they had been ambushed when Reivan initially had low magic power, caught completely off-guard.

And throughout the entire battle of life and death, Reivan didn’t even feel an ounce of fear or alarm. He knew his capabilities and knew the enemy’s, so his confidence was maintained despite being focused.

The result spoke for itself.

‘We’re… really fucking strong. Oh, my days…’

Not just Reivan and Helen either. They were abnormalities, in a way. But the other Senior-grade knights weren’t that far off—a lot of them could have utterly toyed with a dozen espers by themself.

He supposed this was why people said that each knight had to be outnumbered at least ten to one if they were to be defeated. Preferably, it would be twenty or thirty, with each member having similar physical capabilities.

This little event had reassured him further: the rulers of this continent would be surnamed Aizenwald.

‘Now, I just gotta switch my surname to Samsara or something to make sure it’s not me…’

Arc#5 Chapter 16: Sun

[Author's Note]

Merry Chrismas, everyone~!

════════════════════════════════

Reivan's party arrived in Lageton as fast as they expected and without any issues.

The only unsatisfying part was how there wasn't really much fanfare to welcome them—which was somewhat understandable, given how bleak the general situation was. Some of the people either experienced or heard about entire families getting wiped out for various reasons. Add to that the apparent monster problem spawning from literally underneath the ground. Nobody was in a very welcoming mood and even Reivan didn't particularly want a festival or something.

Really, it had been two months since the Sage King died but the effects of the battle were still felt.

'Hm? It feels as if it's less hot than before. Or is that just me? Ah, maybe it’s because it’s 4 pm and the sun’s about to set?'

As he alighted from his sky ark together with his entourage of close associates, Reivan subtly touched his neck and felt slightly less sweat than he expected. After a moment of contemplation, the heat hadn't died down, but its nature had changed since the last time he was here.

It felt as if the heat had become more normal. Essentially meaning that people like him—who possessed extremely refined physiques that should be resistant to this level of temperature—could now resist it more easily.

'Ah, but it's not quite there yet. I honestly shouldn't be sweating at all.'

But it was an improvement, and that was what mattered. The improving climate conditions would make it easier for the knights to do their jobs, at least.

"It's not as hot as you said," Helen said from beside him, dressed as a knight rather than as his wife for reasons he could not be bothered to argue with her about. She even walked a step behind him as if she was his guard. "Did you lie again?"

"I didn't, okay?" Reivan grumbled a little. "It just got better. Right, Gwen?"

"His Excellency is right, Lady Helen," Gwen backed him up—and rightfully so because he was both correct and her boss. Though she was a knight, she had already donned clothes that made her look like an important official, all billowy and totally different from what hot secretaries usually wore back on Modern Earth.

"Look alive, people," Jiji announced in a tone loud enough for only them to hear, wearing an elegant dress that should have been similar to what Helen should be wearing as his lady. "Stop goofing off in front of our subordinates."

Despite not having the entire city throw confetti at them, the arrival of a royal family member anywhere couldn't just be treated as if some nobody showed up from the Worgon Outpost. Some of the personnel that had already been here in advance were waiting for them in the port where the sky arks would be parked until they had to be used—which was practically the Samsara Palace's private port, given its position at the easternmost edge of the city.

With the temporary banning of all voyages between Lageton and Worgon, the ports previously dedicated to this had been integrated into his new home until further notice.

It was here that his government's staff awaited. Most of them were handpicked by Jiji and Gwen, so Reivan had already been introduced to them about a week ago before they got shipped off to Lageton in advance. Hector and Mimi would have been part of the group too, if Reivan hadn't successfully convinced them to wait in Aizen until the atrocious weather conditions didn't pose a threat to the child in his sister's belly—which was a point heavy enough for both of them to immediately agree. Mira should have also been here, but was probably playing coy by not showing up. As for the darkin and warbeasts, they were also not present because they were probably hard at work already.

In essence, everyone here was already familiar with everyone else and nobody else was watching them now. That meant they didn't need to make a show of playing niceties and whatnot.

There were some exceptions though.

'Priests of Sormon...? Did Frey send a delegation?'

Reivan easily spotted a group of white-robed individuals in priestly garb.

At the head of their group was a charming woman who noticeably had a motherly figure and a mole near the right side of her lower lip. She gave off an air of maturity, and though he couldn't explain it, kindness. Or maybe it was just because she was wearing priest robes that Frey seemed to abhor wearing in everyday life. Though even when surrounded by priests wearing similar clothes, she still managed to come off as especially benevolent.

Upon a quick look with [Supreme Insight], he discovered that she was named Isolde and was surprisingly 152 years old. Aside from that, there was nothing extraordinary in her status page other than the fact that she was a half-ascendant. Scanning the other priests around her revealed that they were also all half-ascendants or close to the limit of human physical development.

This was a very beefy group of priests even though they all looked like bookish people who couldn’t hurt a fly.

Reivan glanced at Gwen for answers but found that she didn't seem to have any. That meant that the priests weren't expected to be here at all.

He shared glances with Jiji and Gwen, nonverbally deciding to split up. While he and Helen headed straight for the unexpected group of priests, the other two women went off to say hello to their subordinates. The two valued practicality and they planned to get to work as soon as possible.

As Reivan and Helen neared, Isolde stepped forward as the group's representative and bowed.

"May the light of the sun warm your path, Your Excellency," she greeted.

"Same to you, priestess." Reivan also gave her a respectful dip of the head. Not too much though, because he was the nation's leader now and a ruler's crown should never sink too low.

'I'm not wearing one right now though.'

With their greetings out of the way, Isolde was the first to introduce herself. “This humble servant is named Isolde. I am a daughter of the kingdom who chose to dedicate her life to the Saintess’ cause instead of following in my father’s footsteps as a knight. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Excellency.”

“I see. You do look like one of ours,” Reivan chuckled goodnaturedly before asking the questions he wanted answered. “And to what do I owe this pleasure, if I may ask? I did not expect to see the faithful here.”

Given their inherent desire to help any who needed healing and their sheer ability to do just that, it made perfect sense to invite the Sormon Church into his budding nation. And he did, in fact, want to do so too.

There were some very glaring problems that may get away from that, however.

First, because of past incidents in their history, all religions were banned in Arkhan. The people also inherently avoided them, the aversion to anything related to gods becoming ingrained into their very psyche.

Second, given the Sormon Faith’s reach all over the Argonia Empire, the people of Arkhan never had a very good impression of it, even when compared to other religions. It is said that the banning of all religions is mainly to prevent one of Argonia’s staunchest allies from spreading its influence into the republic.

Reivan did not know how the citizens would receive any Sormon Priest that arrived, even if said priests only wanted to help them. Quietly walking away and refusing treatment was one thing, but what if the Arkhanians tried to attack the priests while they were busy healing someone? What if they threw slurs at the relatively pure clerics?

Not wanting the priests to suffer any trauma from such an experience, Reivan chose not to invite them here at all.

Funnily enough, it seemed as if they’d invited themselves.

“The Saintess was waiting for you to send us an invitation,” Isolde sheepishly smiled as her pretty brown eyes met his. “But she realized that you may have some reservations about inviting us to a potentially unwelcoming environment. That is why I and a number of volunteers journeyed here to directly ask you for permission to operate in Lageton.”

“I would have liked to have this conversation back in Aizen.” Reivan shrugged, not really minding how they had done things. He really did want them here. If they volunteered, knowing what to expect, then he had nothing else to say. “Sormon’s faithful are welcome here. I’d tell you to be careful, but I can tell that all of you are quite capable of taking care of yourselves.”

Isolde giggled, demurely covering her mouth. “I was told that the prince was extremely perceptive. It seems the praise is well-deserved.”

“Oh, it’s just a talent I’ve always had… In any case, you have my full support here.”

“Thank you very much, Your Excellency. Now, as for where we’re staying…”

Reivan nonchalantly flicked his wrist. “You and the others can temporarily stay in the palace while I have a church set up here.”

Isolde’s shoulders jumped and she hastily shook her head. “That would be far too much, Your Excellency. I was thinking something along the lines of an inn recommendation letter or some such…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have a portion of our budget allotted to it.”

“No, that wasn’t the problem… Or rather, that makes it even more of a problem if you intend to pay for the construction…”

Seeing her reluctance, Reivan sighed and offered a reasonable compromise. “Then let’s go with this: there are many vacant buildings or ones made irrelevant given our current situation. We’ll perform quick renovations to it so it can be made into a chapel.”

“But—”

“This will also function as a treatment center, so it’s fine. You and the other priests get a roof over your heads while we are freed from the fear of diseases and injuries. We are the ones who benefit more from this, Priestess Isolde.”

Isolde seemed to think on it for a few moments before reluctantly nodding. “Then we’ll have to impose on the prince’s—I mean, the hierarch’s generosity.”

Reivan ignored her verbal slip and smiled. Honestly, he really did come out as the winner in all of this. He would get to choose where the site for the chapel would be too, and there were many options to go around.

Having a Sormon Priest anywhere nearby was a massive load off his mind. It was not beneficial only to his constituents, but also to himself and those he loved.

As for the costs, he couldn’t care less about that. It was just money. He had a lot of it and no amount of the stuff could bring someone from the dead if they died from not having a priest save them in time. Plus, he already had knights stationed in the city, so he could just ask those who had the [Earth] attribute for help in fixing up the building.

Said knights were on the Aizen Kingdom’s payroll, so it cost Reivan nothing.

With that, he exchanged a few more pleasantries with the kind older woman and proceeded toward his palace, with Helen staring very hard at the back of his head.

“What is it, my lovely wife?” Reivan asked with a hint of playfulness when he couldn’t take her silent glare any longer. “Did you fall in love with me again? You can’t keep doing that every day, you know?”

Helen impassively rolled her eyes. “Priestess Isolde seems nice.”

“Oh, her? Well, Sormon’s devotees normally end up like that, no? Most of 'em are really nice people.”

“She was big too.”

Reivan didn’t need her to elaborate, because he had obviously noticed as well. He also couldn’t get out of this line of conversation without addressing it. “They were, but they were a little too big… I like yo—”

“They were around as big as Elsa, though?”

Swallowing his words, Reivan shut his mouth. It seemed that making it out of this undamaged was not in the cards, so he would have to try to mitigate some of the damage. He could have cited the ridiculous age gap, practically disqualifying someone older than his own mother from becoming a romantic partner. But that honestly would’ve made him sound like a bit of an asshole and he didn’t like that.

Besides, all things considered, Isolde looked amazing despite her age. He wouldn’t have even noticed if he didn’t have [Supreme Insight].

Obviously, saying all that wasn’t going to help his case. “Just so you know, I didn’t stare at her lewdly at all... It was all business.”

Helen snorted in annoyance. “I won’t say anything about Elsa and the other concubines. But she better not—”

“She won’t! She won’t, I assure you.” Reivan held a hand to his chest. “Promise. You can literally leave me if I do that.”

She groaned. “I don’t think I can go that far…”

Honestly, her words made him feel great but the context made his mood fall. He grabbed her hand and didn’t let go until they made it into the palace.

════════════════════════════════

Reivan and Helen together with Jiji and Gwen—who reunited with them once their business was done—toured the important bits of the palace but he wasn’t really invested in it because he’d been there once before. Though brief, he’d managed to get a pretty good idea of where everything he needed to know about was.

Obviously, Gwen didn’t need the tour either, but she still came along anyway.

The biggest surprise was how large the section of the palace dedicated to his concubines was. But he supposed that made sense given how he was expected to have a lot. And probably some more, if good candidates continued to volunteer.

‘Sweet mother of… I should have a palace dedicated to just my concubines and the kids I have with them…’

Eventually, the tour wrapped up and the four of them decided to have dinner in a veranda overlooking the bleak landscape of Lageton and its surrounding areas.

"Burn this all into your retinas, ladies," Reivan said as he willed a few flying swords to release a pleasant chill that staved off the incessant heat. "We're the ones who have to fix this mess. Somehow."

"I mean," Jiji gracefully guided a spoonful of soup into her mouth, only speaking afterward. "While this was a tragedy, we essentially eliminated a competitor for the domination of the continent just as they were getting close to ending the game once and for all. We're also in a slightly superior position against the empire. Cleaning up any mess resulting from that is but a minor inconvenience."

Gwen nodded as she efficiently put away her food. "I agree, Advisor Jiji."

"Glad to hear it, Secretary Gwendolyn." the cat-eared princess grinned. "It'll take some getting used to. These new titles, I mean. Don't you agree, Your Excellency, the Grand Hierarch Reivan Aizenwald? Or should it be Reivan Samsara? How about Reivan A. Samsara?"

Reivan groaned under his breath, careful of the eyes around them. "Can you give it a rest with that?"

Jiji giggled. "Why? I am merely addressing you with your well-deserved title. Anything less is disrespectful to your hallowed station."

"One of these days..." Reivan sighed before turning to Gwen while pointing at something in the distance. “Anyway, care to explain why there’s a giant floating fireball on the horizon that’s not the sun? It’s seven o’clock so the sun should be long gone anyway.”

Gwen finely chewed on her mouthful before answering with a casual wave at the nearby sun. “It and a number of smaller versions pop out of a volcano every once in a while. Worry not, for size does not always mean it is strong. It’s a bit troublesome given their lack of a weak spot, but they can be taken out by sheer persistence.”

“You said they come from volcanoes?” Jiji clarified. “Even the ones that are supposed to be dormant?”

“Upon recent scouting trips, all volcanoes are now active.”

‘Shit. I can already tell that it’s somehow because of that elven Transcendent who got offed by Sir Rolf.’

Reivan didn’t even know it was possible for that to happen. Transcendents were really the stuff of both nightmares and legends if their mere presence could awaken dormant volcanoes.

‘Seriously, what the fuck.’

Squinting a little, Reivan looked into the distance and used [Supreme Insight] on the giant ball of fire and—now that he was looking at it—was surprised to realize that there was no result.

Or rather, it was as if he couldn’t target anything with it when he looked.

“Well, that’s strange…” Reivan muttered to himself. Is the real body somewhere inside, and that’s why I can’t counter.”

Jiji seemed to notice his confusion, but chose to ask questions instead. “What do you call it?”

“We are going with Lava Demons for now,” Gwen said nonchalantly. “It paints a good picture when we’re fighting these monsters. Because they’re so big, their demise can be seen even by ordinary people. Because of that, we can improve our reputation.”

“Two birds, one stone. I like it.” Jiji snickered in approval.

“How strong is that one?”

Gwen took one look at the distant ball of fire and the faint traces of tiny shadows buzzing around it. “It is stronger than me, at least. Though it can be taken down by sheer numbers. It’s relatively good teamwork training for the knights, so I have assigned knights to be the ones to take care of them.”

Reivan continued to look into the distance. “Seems they’re having trouble. You think I should help?”

“There’s no need. But if His Excellency wishes to do so, then by all means. Just please remember to head out with a guard escort.”

“Great! I’ve been wanting to stretch my fingers for a while now.”

“Me too.” Helen tapped him on the shoulder. “I’m coming too.”

“No, you are not. What if you’re pregnant?”

“I’m not. Not yet.”

“Yeah, but what if you are?”

“I’m not though. I know my body better than you.”

Reivan clicked his tongue, not really capable of a decent retort. Since she didn’t seem like she’d give in, he just shrugged. “Fine. But you’re only offering ranged support, got it?”

Helen frowned in dissatisfaction but nodded in acceptance.

And so, he summoned Zee and both of them rode the giant winged serpent toward the equally enormous sphere of burning lava.

Arc#5 Chapter 15: Samsara

Enjoying some afternoon tea in one of the palace's many pavilions, Reivan took a sip from his cup as he serenely stared out into the garden where his nieces were playing with Dippy the blob-thing after they grew bored of the strange game they were playing earlier.

The game was something they made up, and it seemed to involve sneaking up on him. They weren't very good at it, of course. But he wasn't going to be a spoilsport, so he naturally let them win by pretending to be distracted by a particularly interesting cloud from time to time. It was just one of those things that he believed grown-ups should do.

One shouldn't expose them to the cruel reality of their relative weakness that soon.

'Cute little buggers.'

"It's so peaceful..." Reivan signed in satisfaction at the calmness of the month directly after his wedding.

It had been a great month where absolutely nothing eventful happened. No mysterious organizations that could somehow create invisible warp gates bothered him. Zero volcanoes erupted. And no fights between grand beings that could destroy large swathes of the continent occurred.

Just peace and quiet.

Helen, who was having tea with him, wiped her mouth with a napkin after devouring all of the tea cakes that were supposed to be shared between them. "It feels like time just blew past. Our honeymoon's over and we have to go to Lageton tomorrow."

"My dear wife," Reivan's shoulders fell as he dejectedly sighed. "You shouldn't remind me of the problems I'm trying to run away from. Why don't you help me run from them instead? You should support me in my endeavors."

"We all know you can't keep running forever." She rolled her eyes—something she didn't usually do but was now becoming an increasing occurrence because he often acted silly when he was around his cute nieces. "Besides, didn't you say that you like responsibility?"

"I did say that."

"Were you lying?"

"No, I wasn't lying..." Reivan grumbled as he rested his face against the marble table, enjoying its cool surface against his cheeks. "But I can complain, right? Complaining makes me feel better."

Helen laughed softly in amusement, playing with his silver hair. "So my role here is to listen to your whining, is that it?"

"I prefer to think about it as you helping me vent stress, but yes. That is essentially it."

"I see. Should I get the cheese to accompany your whine, then?"

"Har har. Very funny." As revenge for her use of an age-old pun, he grabbed the hand toying with his hair and lightly bit her finger.

Helen raised a brow at that, doubling down on his antics by pushing it deeper into his mouth. "How does it feel to have something shoved down your throat for once?"

Reivan's shoulders jumped at her words, pulling the finger out of his mouth and hissing at her while looking to where his nieces were. "Helen, there are children present."

"They can't hear us from here. And they're too busy playing."

She had a point, he'd admit it. Dippy got the memo and was bouncing around slowly enough for the children to catch it if they exerted themselves a little. With their pleasant laughter filling the air, they wouldn't have heard his wife's scandalous words.

'Well, she didn't say anything directly, so it wouldn't have mattered if the kids heard them. But still...!'

The kids could have interpreted it in any number of ways. And all they'd have to do was mention it to the rest of the family for Reivan to have an awkward dinner.

'Oh, but then again, I won't be having dinner here for a while, so maybe it's okay?'

"Hey." Helen turned to him with a smile as she rubbed her belly. "I think we'll get some good news soon."

Reivan raised a brow but nodded with a smile of his own. "Well, we've been trying way before the wedding, so it wouldn't be strange."

Given his father's previous experience with a wife dying in childbirth, Reivan was somewhat concerned about the same thing happening to him. Sure, there were plenty of Sormon Priests to help prevent that nowadays. But tragedy struck when you least expect it.

For Helen, however, his mind was at ease.

He'd seen her take a lot of punishment in sparring matches. Childbirth seemed comparatively tame when compared to that.

Reivan was more worried about the child's life because Helen's survival was pretty much guaranteed.

Helen continued to rub her flat and toned belly as if there was already a baby inside. "It's going to be a boy, I know it."

Amused, Reivan shrugged. "We won't know until much later. Besides, I don't mind it being a girl. Girls are cute."

"No, I'll make sure of it. I feel like if I try hard, it'll be a boy."

"You're not making any sense. Pregnancy doesn't work like that. Didn't you pay attention to your lessons?"

"Those were really boring..."

"Well, there you have it."

Reivan spent the next few minutes explaining to his wife that the baby's sex was completely up in the air. And since he was a hybrid warbeast-human, perhaps the child's race would be too.

Surprisingly, however, Helen was adamant that it'd be a boy.

'What the hell. You're not even pregnant yet!'

Reivan was slightly concerned about how she would react if, after all her insistence, their first child ended up being a girl. She probably wouldn't neglect the child or be cruel, but he wanted to welcome his child into the world with positive feelings.

No baby should ever be born unwanted. Like he had been in his past life.

'She's oddly convincing though...'

Reivan scratched his head. Somehow, he really did feel like it'd be a boy if she wanted it to be. He wondered if it was his intuition or some strange assurance that Helen could do it because she was Helen.

'I'm really married to an abnormal woman...'

Abnormal in a good way, of course.

════════════════════════════════

Just like that one time he left Aizen as the head of a diplomatic delegation, Reivan would have to be physically seen as leaving through a sky ark. His retinue this time would have to leave in a similar manner.

This not only announced to the citizens of Aizen that their royal family was doing something, but it would also let him arrive at his new nation in style.

Reivan was going to be the ruler, after all. There had to be a certain weight in everything he did. Gravitas, so to speak.

This was not to instill fear or intimidate his subjects, but rather, it was to set their hearts at ease.

They were in capable hands now. All their problems would soon be made to go away.

Reivan wanted them to have those thoughts. He wanted to inspire those sentiments in his subjects.

There was a not-so-heartfelt departure ceremony. Everyone in his family knew he had access to a portal and could return to the palace at any time—even his little nieces. In fact, he’d probably be back in a few days. The knights were in the know too, so literally nobody felt that inclined to see him off.

Other than a crowd of citizens who kept calling him by some odd nickname.

“You heard what they kept calling me?” Reivan sat at one of his personal sky ark’s lounges.

Helen sat right next to him, her shoulder touching with his. “Lovestruck Prince.”

“Yeah. That. Where’d that come from?”

Jiji snorted as she also took a seat nearby. “Have you no self-awareness? It’s because of how foolishly you acted during your wedding. And after it, too.”

Reivan felt his cheeks burn slightly at that. There was absolutely nothing wrong with a man thinking his wife was pretty, but he was a bit too over the top that day. The worst part was that none of it had been intentional.

Clearing his throat to shoo away some of his embarrassment, Reivan turned an aggrieved side glance at his little sister. “You talk as if you saw it. As I recall, you didn’t even attend your own brother’s wedding! Where were you, anyway?”

Jiji crossed her arms and turned her head away with a snort. “I thought that the darkin would feel left out, so I accompanied them. They could see the crystal broadcast in the sky and were quite curious about everything, so I graciously explained things to them.”

“O-Oh… Okay, that’s a pretty good reason.” Reivan nodded and let the matter rest. The darkin had a special place in his heart and mind because their fate and prosperity were a matter left to him by Zell—his greatest benefactor. “Anyway, where’s Gwen…?”

As soon as he voiced that question, a blonde beauty with shoulder-length hair entered the room wearing not the usual knight's uniform, but a special set of official’s attire.

It was Gwen, who would be his Head of Staff while also being his secretary, essentially being an extension of himself.

Reivan whistled and clapped. “It suits you, Gwen.”

“Thank you, Your Excellency.” Gwen dipped her head slightly before looking around the room. “I greet Her Highness Princess Jiji and Lady Helen.”

Helen simply nodded in greeting while Jiji shook her head. “Where we’re going, I’m not a princess. I'm just this fool’s advisor. Dispense with the formalities.”

“As you wish.”

“You’re still not doing it… Well, fine. Just get used to it, hm?” Jiji smiled at her and left it at that.

Reivan smiled at the two people who would likely do most of the ruling on his behalf.

Jiji would be his advisor. While that didn’t place her in any department, she arguably had a say in any department she wanted simply because she could walk around and say that Reivan approved it. Her other status as the princess of the kingdom also gave her near absolute power over any Aizenian in Lageton.

Gwendolyn was the official superior of every single personnel under him. As his secretary, she also had the option of doing anything she wanted under the premise that Reivan approved it.

Basically, both of them were below one person and above everyone else.

As for Helen, he was his wife so she was valuable by default. Also, she was one of the strongest entities he had under his command as long as she didn’t get pregnant. He already had Sir Xander as his personal guard, but having her around provided an extra layer of security.

Of course, he wasn’t a weakling who could only let others protect him, so he himself was one of his strongest bodyguards.

“You’ve been in Lageton this whole month, right?” Reivan asked when he remembered. “Good work. You rushed here to be on time for the departure ceremony, but you didn’t have to take the trouble.”

Gwen shook her head. “Given how Your Excellency will be stuck in this ark for the better half of a day, I felt it would be more efficient if I briefed you on a number of things along the way.”

Reivan hummed in understanding. The last time he’d taken a sky ark to Arkhan, he’d ridden The Fenrir— Aizen’s royal vessel and one of the largest sky arks in existence—and arrived in a couple of days.

This time, however, the place they were traveling to was not only closer, but they didn’t have to intentionally slow their pace for various reasons. That’s why it wouldn’t even take a day for them to arrive at their destination.

‘Anyway, this new sky ark’s nice.’

Reivan had his own sky ark, but he’d gotten a new one from his brother as a sort of advanced reward. Well, no. Roland had worded it as an apology—a reason that almost made Reivan give the airship back.

It was a black and gold sky ark that was thrice as large as his first one. And it was fitted with weapons too, which was neat.

‘Really brings me back.’

Reivan looked down at his right hand, which was firmly in his wife’s grasp. It seemed their thoughts were relatively the same, because she was also looking at him with a meaningful gaze.

It was inside a sky ark that they had… well, consummated their love. Where all the walls between them were broken and they could just embrace each other without a care.

Sky arks were pretty special for the two of them.

'Since I have two sky arks now, should I give her my old one? Or should I leave that as something to pass down to my son, I wonder?’

Reivan felt conflicted over pleasing his wife and being a cool dad who gave away sky arks. Realistically, it would take maybe two decades before any child of his could drive a sky ark, but…

“Akhan is now being beset by fire-based life forms that have crawled out of once-dormant volcanoes.”

The stoic statement from his Head of Staff jolted Reivan out of his momentary internal conflict. “I heard something along those lines. They showed up after I returned to Aizen, right?”

Gwen nodded. “They are everywhere now, particularly in the southwestern area.”

“That’s really far from Lageton, right?” Jiji tilted her head. “Lageton’s in the southeast, after all. Or far east.”

“That’s not the point…” Reivan sighed, asking the dreaded question. “Are they too strong, or…?”

“They’re relatively easy to deal with,” Gwen said, immediately causing him to sigh in relief. “If we were to use your special gift’s effect of estimating someone’s physical capabilities, they should have around two hundred might.”

“Oh, that’s not too bad. I could probably kill, like, a few hundred of those at a time, no?”

“Indeed. But the problem is they don’t seem to be running out. They constantly pop out. The knights who were in charge of recon also reported a strange feeling from the volcanic entrances. As if something strong was lurking there.”

Jiji hummed in thought. “I think this is legal grounds to send Ascendants to investigate, right? It’s not breaking the treaty.”

“I’ve also considered that and have petitioned the castle for aid. Finding and taking out any Ascendants won’t break the treaty.”

“You certainly work fast,”

“Right, right?” Reivan crossed his arms and grinned smugly. “Our Gwen’s really capable, you know?”

“Why are you bragging, Yani?” Jiji looked at him strangely before shaking her head—as if she’d given up on him. “Anyway, what of Lageton itself?”

“There have been no problems so far.” Gwen revealed a smile as she recounted. “That is also why we can skip our original plans to seize a seat of power through elections. And can skip right into taking it. The people of Lageton already see us as their overlords. Whoever we want to place on the high seat is who the people want.”

Initially, Aizen’s takeover plan for Lageton and its surroundings was to hold an election. Though unsavory, they would rig it so Reivan would win in case he didn’t, but it would effectively give him legitimacy despite his foreign roots.

The relief efforts in Lageton had the additional use of promoting him. Adding fragrance to his name, so to speak. Even though the kingdom itself sent the aid, the people on the field would be wording it so that Reivan would seem like the proprietor of the relief efforts.

This had all been planned out by his brother, told to him back when he was informed of his incoming post as the Hierarch.

Unexpectedly, the people of Lageton were more desperate than Roland anticipated, openly accepting a foreign prince as their ruler. It was unknown whether these people made this decision with certain possibilities in mind—such as their new overlord establishing an entirely new nation separate from both the old republic and the kingdom.

Regardless, they would not be able to stop the takeover. The opinion of helpless people hardly mattered when entire nations moved, even if there were enough of them to fill a city.

‘Lageton and every other city in the eastern portion of Arkhan were focused on industrial manufacturing among other things. They didn't have fields and relied on shipments from the west, north, and central regions.’

That meant that Lageton was entirely reliant on Aizen now.

The kingdom had all the leverage and there was little Lageton could do about it even if force was taken out of the equation.

Everyone in the room understood that, so nobody else mentioned or elaborated on it. They all non-verbally decided to move on to the next topic of discussion.

“Your Excellency,” Gwen turned to him. “I’m sure you still remember that you’ve done assessments on a number of knights, given how your special gift seems to provide you with a numerical representation of their comprehensive physical capabilities.”

“That’s right.” Reivan nodded. “I haven’t done it in a while, though. They've stopped asking for me.”

“That is because administrators have figured out how to make rough estimates based on the data you’ve provided. It wasn’t that hard, though the numbers produced normally deviate by 100 points at maximum and 10 points at the minimum.”

‘Oh, that’s cool. So that’s why…’

“Ah, is this related to that?” Helen suddenly spoke up, gently stroking a little green-scaled lizard on her lap that wasn’t there before—it was the spirit beast he’d given her and it seemed like it had awoken from its spirit dew-induced slumber. “I was given a notice that I’m a Senior-grade Knight…”

Reivan’s brows furrowed in confusion. “When was that?”

“A month ago? Or was it two weeks ago?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“I thought you’d know already. Also, we were on our honeymoon so…”

“...Okay, fair enough.”

Naturally, they hadn’t just locked themselves up in a room and went nuts on each other. They spent the majority of the month following their marriage touring the kingdom, revisiting old haunts, and discovering new places that popped up while they were busy with their responsibilities.

The Modern Earth tradition of going overseas for these kinds of things didn’t really make it over to this world, given how potentially dangerous it was.

Argonia definitely wasn’t a good destination for anything but a raiding party, while Arkhan hadn’t been all that friendly until recent decades. There were the Pentagoria Continent’s five principalities, but the journey there wasn’t entirely safe given how dangerous the seas were to landlubbers—it was an unrestrained pool that was potentially full of very powerful monsters, after all.

That’s why, in Aizen and just about everywhere else, a newlywed couple just kind of spent the next few months adjusting to a life so close to another person. Honeymoons, the way Reivan used to know of them, were a purely royal tradition—and at most, it involved traveling the nation in secret and posing as peasants for a while.

In any case, it was perfectly understandable for Helen to have forgotten to inform him at such a time. Honestly, Reivan had also cleared his mind of all other thoughts to enjoy his time with her more, so he couldn’t exactly blame her even if he wanted to.

“So what’s this about grades and such?” Reivan turned to Gwen, with a momentary glance at Jiji since he wasn’t sure if she also knew. Judging from his sister’s expression, she did.

“Though all knights were collectively known as knights,” Gwen said. “We did have our own underlying ranks. And for a time, we are also tied to certain departments. These have an effect on our salaries, but that’s beside the point—we never classified ourselves based on sheer physical capabilities.”

“Not because previous rulers never thought to do so, mind you,” Jiji chimed in. “But because they saw no merit in potentially demeaning a knight based on their strength alone. They wanted to focus on rewarding merits and competence rather than sheer unproven ability.”

“Makes sense.” Reivan nodded along, internally noting the kingdom’s predilection to meritocracy. “And that has changed?”

“We are in a state of war at the moment,” Gwen continued after his prompting. “And for the first time, mortals play a much larger role than Ascendants. For practicality’s sake, we need to properly have an assessment of a knight’s ability so they can be assigned to a task appropriate to their level.”

“Will my salary increase from this?” Helen asked. “I’m apparently a Senior-grade Knight now.”

‘You still get a salary…? Wait, what am I thinking? Of course, she does. She’s still a knight even though she’s my wife!’

“Strength will naturally have an effect on salaries, yes,” Gwen confirmed. “But there is still a focus on overall merits and the number of things you can do for the kingdom. It is not enough to have power, after all. It must also be used for the good of the nation.”

“Mhm. That’s why mine’s still low… All I’ve been doing is training and occasionally fighting in the Outlands.” Helen released a light sigh, causing Reivan to pat her back.

Because of her talent, the kingdom encouraged Helen to focus on training quietly, as that was what produced the best results for her. She was a fraudulent cheater that grew more powerful even if you left her to her own devices, so why would the kingdom put her in danger at all? All they had to do was keep her safe and she guaranteed to grow.

It certainly worked, given her meteoric rise in ability, but that also meant she had very little opportunity to earn merit as a knight.

She was powerful. But untested.

‘The republic will be her proving grounds, then.’

Gwen elaborated on the ranking system and it was pretty easy to understand, especially for him given how he was the origin of the numerical assessment system. Basically, there were five rankings: Elementary, Junior, Senior, Master, and Grandmaster.

Elementary-grade Knights were those who had just gotten knighted—meaning their might was in the 100s range—up until the 300s.

Intermediate was the rank where knights would spend the most time because it encompassed knights in the 400s to the 700s range.

Senior-grade Knights were those who had 800 Might and more. Half-Ascendants like Gwen, Helen, and Reivan also fell into this category.

As for Masters and Grandmasters, they were all Ascendants and there wasn’t really much of a difference when it came to pure physical prowess. What separated the two were their abilities beyond that, as well as their experience.

Obviously, the Twelve Helms were all immediately classified as Grandmasters. Valter too, was one. And clearly, Vianna and Viktor were Grandmasters as well.

They were basically a class of Ascendants that could very easily take out other Ascendants. The type of people you didn’t want to be on the opposite side of a battlefield with, though Reivan supposed he wouldn’t want to fight any Ascendant in his current state.

“Based on this ranking system, we can gain a better idea of how strong our core forces in Lageton are.”

“Hm,” Reivan grunted in agreement as he received a deluge of information from Gwen through his dream crystal. Likely, everyone else in the room experienced the same thing.

His core forces were basically as follows:

• 10 Senior-grade Knights (not including Sir Xander, Dame Gwendolyn, Dame Helen, and Jiji—who barely made the cut)

• 90 Intermediate-grade Knights.

• 900 Elementary-grade Knights who would likely rank up within the year.

That totaled up to a thousand knights assigned to him by his brother.

Of course, that didn’t include the hundred knights sent over by House Mercer, all of whom were either close to being Senior-grade Knights or already were. Not to mention that every single one had the [Wind] or [Lightning] attributes—maybe even both.

In essence, he actually had 1100 human knights whose loyalty and motivations were unquestionable.

Now, the non-human forces on the other hand…

The Terracatta Clan’s forces and the darkin weren’t included in the count, but Reivan still allowed them to send troops. Furthermore, he’d limited them to only a hundred each.

The limitation placed on them wasn’t some form of harassment or an attempt to curtail their achievements. Rather, it was aimed to force the two races to choose their most capable mortal realm warriors only, leaving behind anyone who couldn’t fight. After all, Reivan feared that in their zeal to prove their worth, they would throw even those too weak to fight into battle.

In the end, Reivan chose to prioritize their safety rather than let them potentially kill themselves.

It wasn’t much of a problem for the darkin, as they numbered less than five hundred. But the warbeasts of the Terracatta Clan were not so few—there was apparently a fierce competition over who got to join since they had so many powerful warriors. With the special nature of how warbeasts all specialized in physical combat, he could expect all one hundred of the people they were sending to be at the level of Senior-grade Knights.

'They're not going to be happy about it...'

Such a decision, in the end, would win him no favors. But he didn’t really mind, if he was being honest. At least, his conscience would be a little cleaner knowing that the people he would send into battle were actually strong—meaning if even they died, there really wasn’t much that could be done to avoid the casualty.

Some other forces weren’t included in the number, however.

“What about the battlemages?” Helen asked, once again having returned to absentmindedly stroking the mini dragon—which had rolled over and exposed its stomach for her fingers. “There are a lot of them, no?”

“Indeed.” Gwen nodded and for the first time, seemed troubled. “Our method of assessment does not really work for battlemages. Not only is their magic not tied to physical ability, but their spirit beasts have to be taken into account. They are an absolute nightmare to classify.”

It was the first time Reivan had seen her like this so he unconsciously smiled, though of course he still treated the matter seriously. “It’s fine. I’ll help classify their spirit beasts, at least. How many of them are there, by the way?”

“Our most recent count is at 10,989.”

“That’s a lot. Wow.”

“There should be a lot more, but most are still spread throughout the republic. Likely wherever they were posted before the event happened.” Gwen emphasized, alluding to the cataclysmic fight involving more than a handful of Transcendents. “That said, a lot of them ended up here from the north to flee the empire’s witch hunters.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen what spellbane bullets can do.” Reivan scratched his chin. “Though I think it should only be effective in ambushes or against battlemages with really weak spirit beasts. The stronger ones would just shrug any bullets off, spellbane or not.”

Gwen hummed in agreement. “We have also recruited plenty of people who are capable of magic, but aren’t battlemages because they don’t have spirit beasts. They do not know any lethal spells, however.”

The combination of qualities made it obvious to Reivan where these sorcerers came from. “Were they from local academies?”

“Yes.”

“I knew it.”

That meant they were all much like Clover before he was found by Reivan. Just another one of the many people in the republic who dreamed of being a battlemage.

“That’s perfect, then.” Jiji clapped her hand, a white kitten purring on her lap. “We can use them as foot soldiers instead of recruiting from the mundane. They’d be more effective in various ways… Hm, since the empire employs a lot of mundane troops, why not just give the sorcerers some guns? There has to be plenty stocked up in the various cities nearby.”

“Ah, that’s a good idea.” Reivan hummed in agreement. He unconsciously eyed his wife’s lap before glancing at his sister’s. Both of them had creatures on them.

Not wanting to be left out, he was about to summon Dippy before deciding on Zouros instead. He didn’t give his favorite snake enough love these days.

With that out of the way, Reivan continued. “Lageton’s in an industrial manufacturing region so there ought to be some factories that produced guns nearby… Though I hope it hasn’t been looted for everything it’s worth yet.”

“There is no need to worry,” Gwen announced. “Since there were plenty of flight-capable battlemages, I’ve sent a party over to search through arms factories nearby. Lady Elsamina was kind enough to provide me with a detailed list of where they all were when I mentioned it. Apparently, she secretly owned some of them, and was just happy that the loss could be salvaged somehow.”

Reivan hummed in satisfaction at his competent subordinate. “That’s nice. I’ll make sure to thank Elsa myself. Pay her for the damages too, since it’s technically the kingdom’s fault that everything went to shit.”

“And how, may I ask, are you going to pay her back?” Helen asked, hand on his thigh.

Zouros, who was coiled up in his lap, looked at the suddenly invading hand and gave it a sharp lick before going back to napping.

Feeling somewhat betrayed by his comrade’s lack of reaction, Reivan chuckled dryly. “With money, of course…”

Jiji snorted. “I doubt that’s all. Helen, watch your husband. You might lose him if you’re too careless.”

Helen frowned pensively at her but nodded. “Noted.”

Perhaps to help him out of his predicament by suddenly changing the subject, Gwen turned to him and asked him a question he didn’t want to be asked.

“By the way, Your Excellency. Have you decided on the nation’s name yet?”

Reivan groaned. He had given it some thought. But this was a country. What if he came up with a stupid name? Everybody would know him as the stupid name guy.

But then again, he couldn’t avoid it forever. “I did.”

“Oh, this oughta be fun.” Jiji covered her mouth and snickered. “Please tell us, oh Great Hierarch Reivan.”

Biting his lip in hesitation as he glared resentfully at his sister, he squeezed out the name he’d come up with.

“Samsara. That’s what I want the nation to be called…”

Reivan looked around and only saw confusion, which made sense since it probably wasn’t a familiar word for them. Though the kingdom used English as its language because his ancestor spread it around, the word he’d just spoken was Sanskrit, not English.

Samsara was a word that was tied to him as well.

It pertained to the cycle of life and rebirth. Basically, reincarnation—which he was a grateful benefactor of.

Reivan wanted to give the new nation this name in the hopes that he could help it be reborn as well.

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes. Or the first signs of spring after a cold harsh winter. Samsara would rise anew, and the people of the old republic would be better off for it.

He was really starting to like the name he came up with when his wife suddenly spoke up.

“I don’t like it.”

Stunned, Reivan muttered. “Eh? But why…?”

Helen resentfully nudged him with her elbow. “It sounds like a woman’s name. Why are you naming it after her and not me?”

“Wh-what? No! It’s not some woman’s name!... Though it kind of does sound like one, now that I think about it. Particularly the ‘Sara’ part. But it's not, I swear!”

‘Honestly, I feel like I’ve had a fling with someone named Sara…’

Of course, Reivan wouldn’t say that out loud.

Since there was no way he could pretend that he knew a language that didn’t exist in this world, he just lied and said that the word sounded cool. With [Essence of Falsehood]’s assistance, they believed him, and the name was given a passing grade.

And so, the Hierarchy of Samsara was officially christened on a black sky ark flying over the sea.

Arc#5 Chapter 14: Spellbound

It felt like a long time coming, but the day of the wedding finally arrived.

Unfortunately, Earth's custom of forbidding the groom and the bride from seeing each other before the actual ceremony made it to this one. As such, he woke up at dawn alone, did his morning routine alone, and showered alone.

This morning would probably be the last time that would happen.

'Good lord, why am I so nervous? It's not like I have to duel her or something!'

As a kingdom of knights, it actually wouldn't have been surprising if there was some strange tradition involving the bride and groom duking it out with sword and shield in hand. It was fortunate that such a tradition didn't exist. Just normal stuff. The groom dresses up in a suit while the bride dons a beautiful white dress. Then they get married in front of their colleagues, friends, and loved ones.

He was a knight though, so perhaps he would have been less nervous if all he had to do was duel her. Though she was closer to Ascendance than him, he actually won most of their sparring matches. Maybe they both held back a little, but still.

'It's really happening. To me.'

Reivan gulped as he fixed his radiant blue and gold tie.

"You do remember what you're supposed to do and say, right?" Roland stood right next to him, wearing a similar but less extravagant version of Reivan's white and gold tuxedo—which was obviously an attempt not to stand out more than the groom. "I'm asking because I almost forgot mine on my wedding day. I was a little too mesmerized by Stella, you see."

"Do you think I'm an idiot? Of course, I remember."

"Shush." Rodin, who was also standing in a row with his two sons chided them quietly. "Stop squirming about. Have you forgotten about the hundreds of people watching us?"

The two young men immediately shut their mouths and waited quietly for the bride to arrive.

They were all currently within the Sol Sanctum—the capital's holiest structure and was also home to the Saintess. Pretty much all royal weddings for the past three hundred years were held here, officiated by the high-standing priests or priestesses. Though the Sol Sanctum was a simple church, paying homage to the Sormon Faith's humble roots, the place was naturally spruced up in light of his wedding. Flowers both white and blue were hung up everywhere, with beautifully arranged wreaths hung up at the end of each row of seats. A thick royal blue carpet had been rolled down the aisle, waiting to welcome the bride.

There was more and it was all very nice, but Reivan didn't have the leeway to admire the various decorations. His mind was entirely focused on this life-changing moment.

"Nervous?"

Reivan flinched at the pleasant voice in his ear. He turned to the source and saw the embodiment of holiness—Saintess Frey.

She stood calmly at the head of the altar overlooking the hall, donning flowing white robes that truly matched her status as the Sun God's representative. It was a stark contrast to how she usually dressed, but it made sense that she'd go the extra mile today because she was officiating his wedding.

It was a great honor and few could ever say that a Transcendent presided over any event in their life.

Reivan chuckled sheepishly. "A little."

Frey giggled. "I cannot relate, but I think you should look happy when the bride arrives, right?"

Immediately, Reivan realized how he'd almost blundered. What would Helen feel if she walked up here and saw him looking uneasy? She might think he was having doubts—which obviously wasn't true and she would know that too. But it certainly wouldn't be pleasant for her.

"You're right..." Reivan closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. This was a very happy moment in his life so he should look happy.

Just as he was trying to remember how to smile, the large double doors to the Sol Sanctum swung open and revealed a procession of ladies with Helen in the lead.

If he remembered correctly, the bride was usually last to arrive, but apparently due to past incidents of brides getting sniped by assassins right outside the venues, brides were now ushered in first just to be sure. That was all the way back when Aizen still hadn’t completely conquered the lands it currently occupied, but the tradition had stuck.

That was why Helen led the procession, and the bride’s maids and all the other women who were part of the ceremony trailed behind her.

“Wow…” Reivan couldn’t help but mutter as his breath got caught in his throat. Even his chest tightened as his mind blanked.

The moment he saw his bride, the rest of the world lost color.

He could have spared a glance at the shower of petals and the pretty lights that heralded her arrival. Or admired the craftsmanship of her wedding dress or the elegance of her braided hair. Maybe he could have smiled at his cute nieces, who were energetically trying to keep up with the procession and unloading their own baskets of flower petals.

But he found that he couldn’t really care less about anything else.

At this moment, there was only her and a blurred background.

‘Beautiful.’

As she drew near, Reivan was granted the fortune of taking more of her in. His eyes easily pierced through her veil, he was blessed with the sight of a smile much wider than what she usually saw on her lips. It didn’t take a genius to realize that she was smiling out of joy.

Of happiness.

Happiness of getting married to him.

Reivan couldn’t look away, despite himself. He could literally stare at her for years without getting rest. But he was forced to stop when someone nudged him not-so-gently.

“What the hell are you doing?” Roland hissed into his ear, quiet but sharp, so that nobody but them would hear. “Snap out of it and escort your bride to the damned altar.”

Only then did Reivan realize that Helen was already right before him, not halfway down the aisle. The rest of the procession had also taken up their assigned positions, and everyone in the church was looking at him with warm but amused smiles.

It should have felt embarrassing, but somehow, Reivan could only step toward his bride and offer his arm.

“Am I pretty?” Helen asked in a hushed tone as she hooked her arm around his.

Reivan gulped and nodded vigorously.

“The prettiest.”

His answer seemed to satisfy her because her smile grew even more radiant, though not many could see. “The veil’s supposed to hide it. You’re cheating right now. Now, c’mon. We’re supposed to kneel over there, remember?”

Together, they slowly walked forward. Even in his middleheaded state, he still instinctively took care not to go too fast. Her dress was long, after all. He didn’t want her to step on anything in her haste to keep up with him.

All the way to the altar, Reivan’s gaze was locked on her. He could not pull away even if he wanted to—and he didn’t want to, so the result was obvious.

There were chuckles and he heard some male acquaintances jeer at him. One of the voices even sounded like his uncle’s. But again, nothing else mattered to him.

Only her.

There was only her.

Helen had to pull on his arm when they reached the altar because he didn’t notice that they’d reached the spot where they were supposed to kneel to the Saintess—and subsequently, to the Sun God. That caused even more cheers and laughter, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t care.

The Saintess then began to talk about something, but Reivan’s mind tuned it out as time slowed down. He understood though. Naturally, he understood that he should be paying attention. This was his wedding too, after all.

From time to time, Helen would look over and their eyes would meet through the veil. She would look all amused at him, melting his heart and casting some kind of spell on him so he couldn’t look away. Then she’d turn to the front again, treating him to a view of her beautiful side profile.

Really, he couldn’t get enough of her. Did he perhaps get drugged? Probably not.

As he was enjoying the best view in the entire world, Helen once again looked toward him with a troubled smile, causing him to grin stupidly in response.

That didn’t seem to be what she was looking for, so she leaned a little closer and whispered something to him.

“You’re supposed to answer the Saintess, now.”

“What?”

Frey’s giggle, which sounded like the pleasant ringing of bells, momentarily snapped him out of his stupor. She spoke with a loud and amused voice that the entire church could hear. “Goodness, it seems our groom is a little too mesmerized by his bride. He truly doesn’t seem to have heard me.”

That got a round of laughter from everyone. Not the mocking kind, of course. But the well-meaning kind.

Reivan looked behind him and caught sight of his mother shaking her head in exasperation, his father and brother simultaneously holding their forehead like they were each other’s clone, and his uncle loudly guffawing at the very back of the church. Hector was there too, right next to a pregnant Mimi who looked as if they didn’t want anyone to know they knew the groom.

“I’ll ask again then, Your Highness.” Saintess Frey smiled as she turned to him. “Do you take Helen as your lawfully wedded wife?”

“...Ah. I do!” Reivan finally realized what he’d missed, nodding vigorously. “Yes! I do, I do. I really do.”

“Oh, really? Who could have expected that answer, hm?” Saintess Frey teased, producing another round of chuckles and giggles. “Very enthusiastic. I like it!”

Reivan thought himself as a person with some tolerance to shame, but even he felt his ears heat up from embarrassment. He truly didn’t know what was happening to him.

Saintess Fret then turned to Helen. “Your groom seems to want this over with, so let’s skip the formalities. Do you want to marry him?”

Helen turned her head toward him and said, “I do. And I won’t let him get away even if he tries to run.”

“An equally enthusiastic answer from the bride!” Frey exclaimed. “Well then, by the power vested in me by the Sun God and the crown, I now declare you husband and wife. Now, give her a good smooch!”

Reivan nodded vigorously as he and Helen faced each other. With slightly shaky hands, he reached up and raised her veil to reveal her beautiful face, once again rendering him under her spell.

In that muddled state, he couldn’t help but ask. “Are you really fine with me?”

“You’re asking that now…?” Helen grinned, shaking her head in exasperation. “Rein, just shut up and kiss me already. Or rather—”

Suddenly, she grabbed him by the tie and pulled.

The next moment, their lips were connected and Reivan couldn’t really remember what happened after that.

════════════════════════════════

There was supposed to be a parade around the capital to show off the newlywed couple.

A parade float had been prepared and everything, powered forward by a prototype artifact version of a magitech engine. The entire event was going to be broadcasted over the skies of every city in the country so that all could share in this joyous day.

Unfortunately, Reivan couldn’t get into it until the end.

He and Helen sat right next to each other on the float and they were both supposed to smile and wave to the crowd. Look around, smile, the usual stuff.

But Reivan’s eyes were stuck on his wife as he half-heartedly let his arm sway like a reversed pendulum. She looked so nice waving and existing, it would be wrong of him not to admire the view.

And so, just like that, an indeterminate period of time passed in pleasant bliss. Somehow or another, Reivan and Helen made it back to the palace and were now at reception, where they were offered congratulations by a bunch of people.

He knew it was impolite, but Helen pretty much did all the talking—which was funny, because their positions had reversed from when they were children. It had usually been him doing most of the talking when they were alone, and Helen just kind of did her own thing.

In any case, it seemed as if his incessant staring had finally gotten to her since she pinched his thigh under the table.

“Stop staring so much…” Helen muttered under her breath, her ears somewhat red.

“I’m sorry,” Reivan said.

“If you’re sorry, shouldn’t you stop?”

He nodded, but still couldn’t look away. “I should. But I can’t.”

Helen looked at him with a bit of resentment before turning away in embarrassment. “I can let you look at me all you want later. Just give it a rest for now, okay?”

Despite her suggestion, he still ended up utterly spellbound by her. He really couldn’t look away for some reason.

“Is our presence interrupting your alone time with my sister?” Hector was suddenly next to him, with an arm wrapped around his shoulders. “I haven’t gone to many weddings in my lifetime, but yours is definitely the funniest, my friend.”

Mimi, who was right next to Hector and supporting the small bump in her stomach, giggled as she looked from Reivan to Helen. “Congratulations, Helen. I always knew you’d be the first one to marry this guy.”

“Mhm.” Helen nodded before sighing, fixing Reivan with a sharp glance. “I almost wasn’t the first though.”

“Eh, what matters is the end results.” Hector shrugged, before falling silent as he looked at his twin sister. After a moment, however, he smiled sincerely. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you. It’ll be your turn next.”

“Ahaha. Well, it won’t be anything like this. But it’ll be fine as long as all my friends are there.”

After that, the rest of their family came over to congratulate the newlyweds.

Roland was just exasperated at how idiotic Reivan had acted, but overall seemed amused.

Stella stopped her husband from ruining the mood with his nagging before sharing a tight hug with Helen.

Viktor smacked Reivan on the back and playfully cursed Reivan for getting married before he did.

Vianna hugged both the bride and the groom, telling them to watch out for each other.

And finally, Rodin, his father, offered a curt but heartfelt congratulations and a whispered warning to Reivan to tone down the womanizing a little. Things were very different from before now that he was a married man. Helen would be well within her rights to punish him for infidelity.

His concubines, of course, were an exception. With that many women, if he still sought out others, he would really inspire wrath.

Reivan luckily maintained mental presence throughout the whole ordeal.

Or maybe he was starting to get used to his wife’s charms? That thought would immediately vanish when he glanced at her, however. As he would need to be pinched to snap out of it again. He was so utterly spellbound that he couldn’t remember what he ate, just that it was some of the best food he’d ever tasted in both lives.

Celebrations continued well into the night, with dancers, acting troupes, and all sorts of top-class performers entertaining the guests. But even as the others cheered, Reivan only cared about one person today.

And that person was squirming under his stare, her ears and neck red from mortification. It wasn’t an expression he usually saw on Helen, so it encouraged him to do it even more. He even purposely whispered compliments for her from time to time.

In the end, Helen couldn’t take it anymore and pulled him away early—much to the cheers and heckling of the guests.

════════════════════════════════

Back in their room—well, it had been his room but now it was theirs—and still in the clothes they wore during the wedding, Helen sat Reivan down on the bed and huffed in annoyance at him.

“You’re too much. Are you doing this on purpose?”

Reivan shook his head defensively. “I really couldn’t help it…”

Helen groaned, seemingly not knowing what to do with him. “Fine. I’ll believe you. But don’t do this again.”

“I’ll try.” Reivan couldn’t control himself any longer and grabbed her hand, pulling her gently into his lap. “But it’s not my fault. Who told you to look that good?”

“Oh, shut up…”

Maybe it was because they were back in such a familiar place, Reivan discovered that his mind was clearer than earlier. Yet, all he could think about was this beauty sitting on his lap and trying to hide her embarrassment.

He hooked her chin and turned her face toward his, making it easier to seal her lips with his own. They’d just done this in front of hundreds of people earlier today, but now that they were alone, he sought something less-appropriate for the eyes of children.

Their tongues intertwined and before they knew it, Reivan was already pinning her to the bed.

Helen looked up at him with what he could only perceive as a loving gaze. “If we had followed traditions, this would be my first time with you.”

At that, Reivan chuckled. “We’re way past that. And it was your fault for coming onto me so strongly…”

“Are you really blameless?”

“...Hm. Well, I’ll admit that I may have been extremely attracted to you.”

“Is that still the case right now?”

Reivan’s gaze fell on her silky black hair, her bewitching dark eyes, and the face that seemed to have been specially arranged by a god of beauty. He ran a hand down her soft white cheek, marveling at how smooth and pleasant it was as he traced her lips with his thumb.

His answer was obvious.

“My dear wife, I want to do all kinds of things to you that children absolutely can’t hear about.”

“Thought so.” Helen grinned, looking a little smug. “On that note, I prepared something special for tonight.”

“Something special?”

“Uh-huh. Get off me for a bit.”

Reivan really didn’t want to because he was very much in the mood to just jump her right this instant, but he was also curious about what she was talking about.

Surprisingly, Helen procured a shocking set of clothes from her spatial ring.

“I don’t know if you’ll like this.” Helen showed it off to him by placing it against her body. “But this design has been passed down from the womenfolk of the royal family. Apparently, the men of the royal family really like this.”

Reivan ran his gaze down the outfit once again and unconsciously thanked his ancestor.

‘It’s… It’s a bunny suit… It’s a bunny suit! With ears! Holy shit!’

“I also have this.” Helen pulled out a different outfit, this time, it was a maid’s uniform. Of course, this one was modified to have a shorter skirt and expose more skin—which made it something that palace maids would never wear. “You like them?”

Reivan nodded vigorously. His mind was a mess, unable to decide whether he wanted to mess her up in her wedding dress, a bunny suit, or in a maid uniform.

“I see… So you like this sort of thing.” Helen nodded to herself before setting the outfits to the side of the bed. “I’m about to make you very happy then.”

“I was already happy even before you took out the outfits.”

“Mhm. Me too.”

They both smiled, only for them to erupt in a fit of laughter as they fell atop the bed.

It didn’t go as planned because Helen was a little too pretty today, but their wedding could be called a success. One of the happiest moments of both their lives just happened. And they were glad to have shared it with each other.

For a while, they just lay there, holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes, and basking in the feeling of finally advancing their relationship to the highest level.

That only lasted for a short time, though.

In the end, both of them were hotblooded youths who were very attractive to the other. Both of them didn’t know who really started it, but it did not take long before their bodies intertwined as soft gasps filled the chamber.

They did not stop until dawn.

════════════════════════════════

Unbeknownst to Reivan, his mesmerized state earned him a reputation among the populace that had viewed the sky broadcast of the parade.

They didn’t see how he acted within the Sol Sanctum, nor did they see the reception party in the palace. But what they witnessed was enough for them to endearingly call Prince Reivan by a name that may or may not count as impudence.

The Lovestruck Prince, he was called.

Surprisingly, it had positive effects on his reputation.

The women of Aizen wanted to find a man who would look at them the same way Prince Reivan looked at Lady Helen—even better if the man they found was rich, handsome, of high standing, and a capable knight.

A girl could dream, some of them would say.

But nonetheless, the prince had set a very hard standard within the nation that would make a lot of men curse him in their sleep.

Already, writers were making plans to research the young couple’s story to turn it into a stage play. Artists furiously sketched out the scene they saw in the sky while it was still vivid in their minds. And numerous young girls pictured him as their “prince charming”.

Though he did look a little foolish, it somehow managed to endear him to the public.

Arc#5 Chapter 13: Motives Revealed

What Reivan really didn't want to happen was for the people of the republic to somehow blame the darkin for the misfortune that befell their nation.

Naturally, that was a bit farfetched. But people weren't the most rational creatures when they were pressed by hard times like right now. The darkin were primarily composed of charming young women, but they also had very eerie appearances if one focused on their black wings, their ebony hair, crimson eyes, or the fact that they could conjure dark flames.

They were very ominous. Even though they've only shown good behavior during the time they've spent on this side of the portal,

‘They’ve been nothing but sweet, well-behaved girls who seem a little clueless because of their new environment. I don’t want them to experience such scorn.’

Part of him considered that he might be overthinking things. But he’d read enough stories to somewhat predict the possibilities. Even if those were all just fictional, he’d always thought they made sense—the world was not a kind place, especially when people were having a hard time.

Besides, he was a little cynical to begin with, so he was watching out for the worst outcomes.

‘It’d be bad not to hear them out though…’

“Is there a particular reason why you seem adamant about this?” Reivan asked with a troubled expression. “Do you perhaps find the kingdom’s reception lacking in some way?”

Iselle’s shoulders jumped and she vehemently shook her head. “No, no! That’s not the case, Your Highness. I and my people have vividly felt the kingdom’s sincerity and hospitality. We have nothing to complain about.”

“That’s certainly good to hear. Then why?”

She hesitated for a moment, seemingly arranging the words in her head. Then she took a deep breath and began. “The kingdom is both powerful and plentiful. There are valiant warriors, intelligent scholars, earnest workers, and capable leaders. Would you not say so, Your Highness?”

Reivan crossed his arms and nodded. ”Indeed. But what’s your point?”

“This place does not need us.” Iselle breathed out with difficulty. “We have no place in it.”

“That’s taking it a bit too far…” Reivan gently chided, glancing at his sister and Helen for support. “You haven’t been here for very long. It is not a sufficient period of time to form those kinds of thoughts.”

“I’ve already told her that,” Jiji said with an exasperated smile. “She wouldn’t listen. I even cited how my race, the Terracatta Clan, are newcomers here too.”

“Mhm.” Helen nodded. “There’s never enough knights. Just like the Warbeasts in the order, the darkin should join up too. After sufficient training. You’re rushing things.”

Despite the voices of assurance, Iselle didn’t seem to be very moved. She shook her head and stared right into Reivan’s eyes. “The kingdom is a big table where every seat is occupied by people who belong there. We, as newcomers, can only stand to the side and wait for one to be prepared? The civilization we have built may have been destroyed, but our honor remains. We do not wish to one-sidedly benefit from the kingdom’s kindness.”

Reivan groaned. “It’s not as if we saved you to benefit from you…”

“We know.” The darkin bowed her head with a smile. “And that makes us want to prove our worth even more. Please allow us.”

‘Well, damn.’

Honestly, Reivan was inclined to just let them. He could understand their sentiments, after all.

They didn’t like being useless burdens. That resonated with him.

But that said, they had little stake in the conflict between Argonia and Aizen. Was it really okay to potentially allow them a direct road to their destruction? One could say that the darkin had responsibility over themselves, but they weren’t knowledgeable enough about the world for that.

Even a child has more common sense than them. And one wouldn’t allow a child responsibility over themself, right?

Seemingly sensing his hesitation, Lady Iselle pressed forward, grabbing his hands pleadingly. “Please, Your Highness. We have heard that the place you are going to has been plagued with an uncomfortable warmth. My kind are resistant to such things. We also require little food and do not need water to survive like you humans do. You can simply leave us to our own devices and we will prove useful.”

Reivan looked to Helen and Jiji for help again.

Helen was the first to voice her opinion. “I don’t see the problem, as long as they learn proper military discipline first. Their way of fighting seems a little… unpolished. So maybe we could have some knights teach the darkin martial arts while serving as reserve forces over there. Ah, and naturally, we should have anyone who is eligible and willing to swear the oath so they can get a soul armament.”

When she mentioned someone teaching the darkin how to fight, Reivan’s mind reflexively thought of Sir Donovan. But he quickly shook off that thought. The darkin may have looked like fallen angels, but they didn't deserve whatever hell Donovan would put them through. Maybe they’d all run back into the Outlands to get away from the guy.

Besides, Donovan was an Ascendant. And as such, he couldn’t be brought to Lageton.

‘It would be possible if they stayed here to train for a year or two. But they seem to want to come with me to Lageton.’

Donovan was also busy training the human talents of the kingdom, so suddenly dropping hundreds of darkin onto his lap was a bit much.

The other knights would have to do.

‘Ah. Why am I thinking as if they’re already going?’

That was still up for debate.

“Jiji told me that to get those strange weapons…” Iselle whispered to herself. “One must swear an eternal oath of loyalty to the kingdom that can never be broken. The weapons grant great power, though. And are durable enough for those with more wings to use.”

“That’s right.” Reivan snapped out of his thoughts. “Would you be willing? All of our warriors have sworn those same oaths. That is how they can all trust each other on the battlefield.”

With some hesitation, Iselle nodded. “Our fate has already been intertwined with the kingdom… I will be the first among us to swear the oath.”

‘Wow. She’s really up for it!?’

Truthfully, he hadn’t expected that.

It was one thing for someone born and raised in Aizen, growing up on stories of knighthood and being treated well by the royal family. But outsiders would generally shy away from that, right? The Terracatta Clan initially didn’t swear any oaths until years later, when they were sure that the kingdom would treat their people fairly.

Yet Lady Iselle seemed willing to agree just like that?

‘It hasn’t been a month since they arrived!’

They couldn’t possibly feel attached enough to the kingdom to feel at ease swearing an unbreakable oath of loyalty. As such, it was at that moment that Revian truly realized just how desperate the darkin felt.

Desperate for a place in this new and strange world they’ve arrived in. Desperate to be accepted.

“Conflict and survival are all we’ve known,” Iselle gripped his hands firmly. “Please let us show you. I don’t wish for it to sound like an excuse, but I’m actually much stronger than what I have shown you today…”

“I can understand.” Reivan grinned sheepishly. He’d also felt that she was holding back a bit.

In particular, he was a hundred percent sure that her black flames could maintain a much more lethal temperature compared to what he’d experienced. Clearly, even though she was taking the spar seriously, she remembered to hold back enough not to really harm her opponent.

An opponent was not necessarily an enemy, after all.

Of course, Reivan also had some lethal cards held back, so she wasn’t the only one who didn’t show everything off.

“If all of you get wiped out…” Reivan released a troubled sigh. “What would we tell the rest of your people? The one we intend to retrieve from the Outlands?”

“Tell them we fought valiantly,” Iselle said, without hesitation. “Tell them we endeavored to set the stage for their arrival. That we tried to have this world accept us so it may accept them when the time comes. That we wished to create a home here that they can rest their wings in the moment they breathe this wonderful world’s air.”

“I don’t see the problem, Yani,” Jiji chimed in. “It’s not like we’re going to throw them into all the dangerous situations. How’s this? We make them reserve forces until they finish some level of combat training and gain experience in our world. That’ll keep them safe, but they’ll also grow into an asset for the new nation—which, by the way, hasn’t been named yet. You should get on that soon.”

“Reserve…” the darkin muttered, obviously displeased.

Jiji snorted. “Izzy, you underestimate the quality we expect out of our forces. You may be powerful, but power isn’t everything. It is not enough for you to have ways to slay foes, you must also know what ways your foes have to slay you. And you must naturally come up with ways to avoid their ways.”

Helen nodded with a soft grunt. “You seem strong, but in this aspect, you are weak. Acknowledge that weakness and act accordingly until you can replace it with strength.”

Reivan raised a brow. He never thought he’d suddenly hear Helen quote one of the kingdom’s classic works. After his slight surprise subsided, he turned to the darkin who still hadn’t let go of his hands. “I will deliberate on the matter, Lady Iselle. But if I do agree to take you along, it will be under the conditions my sister has mentioned.”

“That’s…”

“I know you have your own motives, but this kingdom did not rescue you for the benefits you bring. And I did not advocate for you just so I can see you fly to your own deaths.”

Lady Iselle’s crimson eyes trembled as their gazes met, but she eventually relented. With a deep bow, she said. “Your Highness’ consideration for us has moved me. Thank you. Then I will have my people ready to leave with you at any moment.”

“I’m still thinking about it, okay? I may just refuse and have you all stay here until you fully adjust.”

“I will be waiting for the good news, then.”

‘She’s suddenly not listening!’

With that, Iselle left the slightly ruined courtyard. She seemed to know where she was going, given how frequently Jiji toured the palace with her.

“What a headache…” Reivan pinched the bridge of his nose and threw a side glance at his sister. “And you knew all of this.”

“Only some of it.” Jiji turned away with a huff. “She’s nice and well-behaved most of the time, but she can be stubborn.”

“I could see that.”

“I really did try to persuade her out of it, okay? But she was really adamant and I was eventually convinced that it’d be fine. That’s why I helped her. I didn’t know all of her reasons, however.”

“What are the chances that…” Helen kneeled down and picked up a clump of dirt burned by darkin flame. “She has another agenda?”

Reivan raised a brow. “Like what?’

Helen shrugged. “Maybe breaking off from our supervision?”

Jiji snorted at her. “Then she wouldn’t be willing to swear an eternal oath at all. I’ve already told her about that without missing the important detail of it being an eternal oath that’s unbreakable.”

Before the two started arguing or something, Reivan got between them and shrugged. “Well, nothing to it. I’ll talk to our elder brother. Ask him what he thinks about this.”

“Oh? Already running to big bro, huh?” Jiji teased with a smirk. “Isn’t this the time to practice some independent thought as a ruler?”

“Silly little sister. I’m a figurehead, remember? Of a vassal nation, at that. I naturally have to make sure that my actions are in line with my boss’ intentions.”

‘Besides, with the lives of the darkin on the line, I shouldn’t let pride lead me into stupid decisions.’

With their morning sparring over and done with, they all parted ways for the day.

Jiji had her own duties and preparations to make. And Helen told him to go ahead and meet with his brother while she handled wedding matters for him.

Meanwhile, Reivan cleansed himself before heading straight to the king’s office.

════════════════════════════════

“I don’t see the problem. Go ahead, if you want.”

That was the response Reivan immediately got from his brother when he explained everything.

“That’s it?” Reivan asked, feeling as if things were developing a bit anticlimactic.

Sitting behind a majestic desk engraved with time and history itself, King Roland ceaselessly worked through an intimidating pile of paperwork laid down on the ground next to his desk. “Rather, won’t they be a big help, being capable of flight and all that?”

“They won’t be interrupting some sort of overarching plan, right?”

“Their arrival is entirely unexpected, little brother.” Roland chuckled, signing off on a document with a flourish before moving on to the next one. “We don’t have plans with them in it.”

Reivan nodded to himself. “That’s a good point.”

“Besides, the plan in Arkhan is to play it by ear, remember? The place is too chaotic to develop any sort of strategy. In fact, the only viable plan is to huddle up in Lageton and build a foundation of rapport with its people. That’ll make the takeover smoother.”

“That’s true…” Reivan grunted, putting the matter of the darkin on hold for now. He’d sleep on it before deciding. “By the way, any tips on how to run a country?”

“I haven’t been king long enough to have those, you know? Why don’t you ask Father? I swear, that man has just been fooling around all this time… Meanwhile, we siblings are swamped with work!”

‘I’m… I’m not actually swamped with work. I will be, though.’

“Still…” Roland put down his pen and stared at his brother. “I guess I can give you some of my thoughts.”

“Sounds great.”

“I really think that Lageton, as it is, can only endure for now. The intense heatwave makes it very hard for ordinary people to get any work done outside the city.”

Reivan crossed his arms and sat on the windowsill, his back to the open skies. “I agree.”

“You could depend on knights and battlemages to repair roads and whatnot. But everything else should be left to the ordinary people when the climate stabilizes.”

“Because it’s an opportunity to kickstart the economy back to a serviceable state by offering jobs to the largely jobless laborers in the city?”

“Precisely.” Roland gave the top of his desk a light slap. “The main problems in Arkhan at the moment are the absence of economy—thereby devaluing money—and, of course, the relative idleness of the population.”

“Really? I could've sworn it was the heatwave and the giant empire marching armies across the land in a bid to swallow the entire nation.”

“The heatwave can be mitigated and orthodox armies don’t just teleport a quarter of the continent in mere days. Feeding such large armies through lands bereft of natural resources would increase the difficulty even more. Argonia doesn't have sky arcs or any way to transport large numbers like we do, after all. As such, your unborn nation’s greatest problem remains to be its own people. You need to get them to work, and you also need to make money valuable again.”

Reivan sighed and tried to think why those were the problems, but he couldn’t come up with something he was satisfied with. “Why those two issues?”

“Hm.” Roland pinched empty air and an item appeared in between his fingers. With a smile, he showed it to Reivan. “What’s this?”

“A bluestone coin,” Reivan answered. “Worth ten thousand lumens.”

“What do you think I can get with this?”

“A lot.”

“And how many of these things do you think I have?”

“A lot.”

“At what rate do you think I acquire these?”

“...A lot.”

Roland frowned at him, obviously not very happy with his answers. “Let’s look at it this way. The fact that this coin has any purchasing power at all grants power to the government. Look outside, Rein.”

Doing as he was told, Reivan turned his head and looked at the kingdom’s capital sprawled out beneath him. With his eyesight, he could make out the countless specks bustling about. “I’m looking.”

“Every single one of those people is paying us taxes."

"Uh... I mean, that's true. But what about it?"

"Meaning, after a certain amount of time, their wealth is slightly reduced and the amount taken is deposited into our pocket.”

“That’s a horrible way to put it, but yeah. You're right.”

“We then spend the money we took from them on various things. Such as paying the peacekeepers a salary to maintain public order. Paying the structural maintenance workers to make sure bridges, roads, and a bunch of other things don’t suddenly collapse from wear and tear. Paying teachers and professors to teach in our schools… Now, turn all of that around."

"What?"

"The peacekeepers maintain public order partly because they are getting paid to do so, thereby feeding themselves and their families. Our nation's engineers maintain public infrastructure partly because they are being paid to do so. Teachers and professors offer their skills in our institutions because they are being paid to do so. Get it now?"

Reivan grunted. “Yeah…”

“A government cannot function well if these little shiny rocks and the bills we print have no value.” Roland reiterated. “As long as it has value, money is power. It moves people. It can solve problems. And we, as the rulers, can even mint more, if we need to. That essentially means we can move the people. We can make them want to move. We can reward them for moving. We can do many things. A lot of things. With this objectively useless rock whose value exists because we treat it as if it is valuable.”

“I understand now… We really can’t just cruise through with strength alone, huh?”

“Maybe. If we have the muscle, we could threaten people to stay in line. But that’s not a government. That is tyranny. Now, it’d be fine if that was how you wanted to do things—”

“It’s not.” he immediately cut his brother off.

Roland seemed happy about this and continued. “That’s good. Really good. Moving back on track, that’s one of your problems—currency is worthless to the people at the moment. You have pseudo-money in the form of relief goods right now. But you need to re-establish a more orthodox form of currency. One that doesn’t expire and attract mice.”

“Right. The second is idleness?”

“Exactly. People get up to all sorts of nonsense when they have nothing to do. And I’m not just talking about rebellion or crime. It’s dangerous for them to get used to getting food in exchange for doing nothing. When the time comes that the nation needs them to work, they’ll compare it to the time when they got to sit around and do nothing all week on the government’s dime. It’s fine right now, but it cannot persist for too long. It must not become a norm.”

“Understood. I suppose there are other problems, they're just not worthy of mentioning because we can solve them easily?"

Roland chuckled. "That's right. We have actual power, Rein. One that doesn't depend on the populace's acceptance. With that, we can magically make certain problems go away. Like those giant fire moles that apparently showed up around Lageton the moment you left."

"You just had to remind me... Anyway, thanks a lot. This conversation was enlightening.”

“Eh, it's no big deal. It was about time for a break, anyway. If I stare at another piece of paper, I might just turn into one. Besides, how could I ignore my beloved little brother who is so enthusiastic about helping out?”

Reivan scoffed and shook his head, throwing one more glance at the metropolis below and secretly comparing it to the bleak cityscape of Lageton, a once-growing city thriving from the good relations between the kingdom and the republic.

‘Haahhh… Now I’m bummed out again.’

The task of getting Lageton back on its feet now fell on his shoulders. But he didn’t know if he had what it took to succeed.

Arc#5 Chapter 12: Fang and Feather

With his soon-to-be wife's urging, Reivan became more partial to accepting Lady Iselle's request.

"Eh, what's the harm..." Reivan scratched his head as he sized up his supposed opponent. "I guess you're already dressed for a spar, Lady Iselle. That looks good on you, by the way."

Iselle's brows shot up a little before she schooled her expression and smiled demurely. "Thank you. Jiji helped me avoid making a fool of myself by dressing weirdly."

The inner courtyard they were in right now was very spacious precisely because this was a kingdom of knights and it begged to differ that royalty would practice combat skills too. As such, they moved to the middle and stood in position, with Helen and Jiji standing to the side as referees.

"Yani," Jiji called out with a smile. "The darkin have actually sparred with our knights on previous occasions. Do not underestimate them."

'Huh. Guess they're pretty capable if she's putting it that way.'

Reivan never underestimated them in the first place. The darkin was a race that somehow survived in one of the most unfriendly environments he knew of. They naturally weren't pushovers.

That said, they had only been fighting monsters all this time. Their combat skills and experience most likely focused on eliminating monsters.

Ironically, knights were the same these days, since most of the time they were clearing out nightmare spawns. But at their core, knights were professionals in anti-personnel combat.

And Reivan had trained to be one extensively. Maybe he didn't have a lot of actual combat experience fighting other humans, but still.

'I never underestimated them, but I'm still sure that we're better in this particular field.'

Jiji's words ensured they were that much, at least.

Helen's eyes met his and he could read the confidence that he'd win in her gaze. Or rather, it seemed as if she was telling him to win just with her eyes. Only when he nodded to assure her that he'd try his best did she turn to his opponent.

"Lady Iselle."

"Ah, yes...?" The darkin lady turned to look at Helen with mild surprise at suddenly being addressed.

Helen seemed to think over her words for a moment before speaking. "Reivan is really strong. So you should be careful too."

Since he wasn't deaf, he naturally heard her. And her words really helped stoke his ego. Which man didn't want his woman to think he was awesome? Especially since Helen herself was so formidable too.

"Thank you for your warning, Lady Helen," Iselle said as she bowed. "I have heard plenty of good things about His Highness' prowess. Needless to say, I have come here prepared to lose."

Then the darkin looked at him with a smile.

"But I will not be making it easy for him."

Jiji whistled. "Them's fighting words, Yani. She's serious."

Reivan chuckled awkwardly, but even he felt a little excited. "Then should I do it seriously too?"

Lady Iselle nodded twice. "Please do so, Your Highness. There's no need to hold back. I'm quite durable, despite how I look."

In the back of his mind, he thought that he should restrain some of the skills that he wanted to keep secret so as to surprise anyone aiming for his life. But he'd met with Donovan lately and the most proficient bald instructor had advised him to start inching away from the mindset of holding back.

There was merit in keeping one's trump cards a secret, but one couldn't get used to holding back. Else, one might unconsciously do so when in real combat situations.

It was fine if they were still students and trainees, since it would force them to develop more skills and increase versatility. But Reivan was no longer a trainee. And the place he was going to wasn't going to be as peaceful as the kingdom's capital.

Donovan made him switch priorities in his training. Acquiring and developing more weapons was no longer needed—now he had to sharpen the blades he already had, so to speak.

And the way to do that was to keep on fighting to the limits of one's capabilities and gradually pushing forward.

'Sadly, there hasn't been anyone I could really beat up, since the people I spar with are all...'

One was his fiancee, who may or may not end up pregnant before their wedding. They have been doing it without contraceptives for a while now. Obviously, he had been extremely conscious of avoiding anywhere near her stomach when they fought.

The others were Gwen, whose health was paramount in ensuring his personal affairs were in order. Jiji, who was far weaker than him and would probably die in training if he really went full force. And Hector, who was in a similar boat to Jiji.

He could pull some other knights, but the strong mortal ones were mostly sent to the three Forts in preparation for something or to Lageton. The capital was oversaturated with Ascendant knights though, but those wouldn't provide good combat experience.

The darkin's suggestion was right on time, so to speak.

Seemingly pumped up as well, Iselle clenched her fists to her chest. "I will treat this spar as if my life depends on it."

"Eh?" Reivanw as suddenly pulled out of his thoughts. "That's not really how a spar works, you know...? Wait, let's—"

He wanted to clarify that they should still pull their punches enough not to kill each other or cause too much injury, but Helen clapped her hands loudly.

"Begin!"

Reivan was forced to dodge to the side when a black streak of darkness shot past where his stomach had been. Deciding to hold off on finding out what the projectile was, he had his soul armament conjure an armor of thick plate around his body before grabbing empty air.

As his hand closed, a spear's handle appeared in his grip. It extended to fully turn into a spear.

'She's probably going to fly, so I'll need a weapon with reach.'

He could go for a bow if she ever flew too high, but a spear could be thrown and was a decent dueling weapon.

When he looked at his opponent, he saw that her beautiful black wings were spread outward and her entire body was covered in what appeared to be flames.

Ebony flames.

'Holy shit, does she have a black flame dragon sealed in her arm or something...?'

Jokes aside, the heat radiating off her felt as if there was a naked flame licking his skin. This was despite her being a few dozen paces away, so he decided it'd be ill-advised to get too close. Iselle didn't seem like an opponent one took out in a slug fight.

'Perfect. I wanted to test a few things.'

To start things off, he lobbed his spear toward her, casually breaking the sound barrier as he created a bit more distance.

Iselle's wings flexed and flapped downward with tremendous force faster than he ever thought they could. She shot upward so fast that his spear completely missed her, bouncing off the palace wall like a toy stick. In her current form, her features were obscured, hidden in an armor of black fire. Only her eyes weren't covered in the strange flames, appearing simply as glowing motes of crimson lights—truly the look of some evil demonic being. Even her feathers looked like they had been set aflame.

As he thought about how it was such a waste to burn such a beautiful pair of wings, Reivan conjured a bow and started pelting her with arrows. Simultaneously, he conjured sixteen floating swords all around him, each ready to shoot toward whatever direction she evaded to.

Who would have thought that she wouldn't dodge at all, merely wrapping herself in her large wings and taking the arrow head-on? There was a surprisingly metallic noise as his arrow just pinged off and was utterly disintegrated by the flames wrapped around her.

'Yikes. Looks like touching her isn’t going to be pleasant.'

That arrow burned down a little too fast for comfort considering how the flames didn't look that intense.

Still, it was a good probing attack. He somewhat ascertained how dangerous the flames were and discovered that the part the arrow struck was temporarily devoid of flames at the moment after the collision.

It was a fact that would aid in creating an opportunity out of nothing.

Reivan was just about to send another arrow to test her out even more, while also sending all his spears toward her unmoving form. But then something happened.

Iselle's wings suddenly unfurled with great exertion as she spun once. It was a movement filled with grace and poise, making him want to take a moment to admire the view.

But in her one fluid motion, countless little daggers of flame were scattered in the air, each pointed menacingly at him. He thought they might be her feathers, but in the end, that didn't really matter. Because no matter what those tiny little daggers were truly made of, he'd be a goner if he didn't defend.

In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but think she was being a bit unfair. Sure, he was the first one to conjure a bunch of floating projectiles, but even he couldn't summon that many.

'Fuck.'

There was no use dodging or turning into an element to be momentarily invulnerable, so Reivan prepared a defensive skill. Or he would have, if he didn't suddenly think of a better idea.

It was a bit of a gamble though, but this was a spar. Now was a time to test his limits and try stupid shit.

Reivan inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with air. As he released his breath, he swiped his arm across the air and produced, forming a ferocious blizzard around him that would freeze his enemies. It was like a cyclone of ice and frost, with him standing calmly at the eye.

The blizzard clashed with the countless flaming black daggers trying to turn him into a pin cushion. With sheer momentum alone, the relatively light daggers were swept into the storm, the black flame covering them gradually being whittled down by the chilling frost. This revealed his previous suspicions, all of the projectiles were black feathers, not daggers.

‘If she was here and looking just the same as last time… That means she lied about how fast her feathers regenerate?’

That didn’t seem right either. He would’ve been able to tell.

But that didn't really matter because his gamble worked.

A layer of ice now covered the feathers that had already been caught by the tempest of frost surrounding him. And ice was his area of expertise.

With a flick of his wrist, the cyclone vanished and all the tiny little feathers inside were freed. Being covered in his main element, however, made them easy for him to control. Another flick of his wrist caused all the frozen feathers to come rocketing toward Iselle. If she couldn't do something against this attack, she would be turned into a pin cushion by her own feather popsicles.

Surprised but unperturbed, she flapped her wings and released a pulse of black flames that spread outward. The ice covering the countless projectiles melted as they got close, freeing them from his control and returning them all to her. She must have realized how pointless it was to continue that line of attack, because the feathers all seemed to seamlessly return to her flaming wings.

As they did, the floating swords around him broke the sound barrier as they shot toward her from multiple directions.

Reivan, as a hybrid, didn’t have the ability to transform into a beast. But who said he didn’t have fangs? He would show off all sixteen of them.

Iselle immediately fell under siege to a flurry of continuous attacks from all directions. Trying to block would only expose her to multiple other blades, so Iselle swiftly moved through the air to let most of the floating swords pass her by.

‘Gotcha.’

This situation was one where Reivan held an absolute advantage.

After all, if one was under constant attack from all directions, they would eventually slip up and reveal an opening—an opening he would exploit. Meanwhile, he was leisurely watching from the sides, completely safe.

He manipulated his remote blades with precision, attacking in a rhythmic pattern to lull his target into his trap. It was his way of taking advantage of her different upbringing. Living in the Outlands exposed her to constant savagery and malice, but she wasn’t used to dealing with a more intelligent sort of malevolence.

Knights capitalized on such gaps, turning them into lethal injuries that ended battles in one strike.

Just as he planned, Iselle got used to the constant cycle of attacks that seemingly followed some set interval. So when he broke the pattern and attacked when he wasn’t supposed to, she went a little stiff and revealed an opening.

Two swords snuck past her guard and were about to skewer her.

Not giving up, Iselle seemed to take a gamble of her own. Instead of dodging, she swung her wings, each meeting one of the flying blades head-on.

The swords were by no means zooming around slowly and with little force. They were being controlled through [Formless Will] and that scaled with his own physical capabilities—which were incredibly high at the moment, given all the steroid-type abilities he held.

That was why the metallic clang produced when the flying swords bounced right off her wings made him doubt his eyes.

“Huh? Seriously…?” Reivan couldn’t help but mutter to himself as he watched the frustrating scene. Those wings were so big, capable of completely covering the darkin’s body. So didn’t that mean that his flying fangs weren’t a threat at all?

Rather, if he came up there and tried to smash a mace into her wings, wouldn’t he also get bounced off?

‘What the fuck is up with those wings…? Zouros’ wings aren’t that sturdy!’

It seemed even Iselle hadn’t expected such a result because she visibly paused mid-air before shifting into a full-tilt charge. Clearly, she had realized that her defenses were a lot more effective than she anticipated.

As she swooped through the air like a falcon diving for hapless prey, Reivan conjured a sword and a shield, immediately bracing for impact.

‘Fuck it. Let’s try slugging it out for a bit.’

Just before they collided, Iselle shifted her body in the air and rose up to avoid confrontation. Only for her to circle around him and dive again in one fluid motion, as if some technique had preserved all the momentum somehow.

Reivan frantically transformed into lightning to temporarily dodge one of the most dangerous dropkicks he had ever seen. The ground he’d been standing on was upturned, launching grass and dirt everywhere. He rematerialized in a blind spot behind her as he swung his weapon down with all his might.

If he’d been fighting a knight, he would have expected Iselle to do what he’d just done, temporarily transform their body into elemental essence to avoid harm and reposition.

Iselle was not a knight, however.

She turned around with agility he didn’t expect from a mortal in the air. Her lips parted as her mouth opened, and he immediately noticed how her neck muscles moved.

Reivan didn’t need powerful intuition to know that he should block his ears off with his qi. It would rob him of a great asset as a hybrid warbeast, but that was just a loss he would need to accept for now.

Just as he’d expected, his body was blown back by soundwaves that would have probably shattered his eardrums if he could still hear. The sheer vibrations he felt on his skin were enough to impress upon him just how much it would have hurt if he didn’t react on time.

‘A soundwave attack. Of course. The race with only women in it has an ability related to screaming…’

That sounded a bit sexist, but records stated a lot of similar cases.

The War God had a corpse puppet of a snake woman who had once belonged to a race that was composed only of females—and that puppet still retained the soundwave-based attacks of their race. There were other examples too, such as gorgons and the legendary mermaid race.

It was a recognizable pattern. All exclusively female races seemed to have soundwave-based racial abilities in one way or another. He was glad that he'd been expecting it somewhat, ever since he found out the darkin didn't have men.

One of his flying swords waited along his body’s flight path and he kicked off against it to break his momentum, jumping through sword after sword until he could comfortably come to a full stop on the ground.

“Are we still continuing?” Reivan asked aloud as he unblocked his ears.

Iselle did not say anything but nodded to him. Judging from her usually respectful demeanor, she probably couldn’t talk while her body was wrapped in black flames.

‘Ah, now that I think about it that way, isn’t it only natural that she can’t talk?’

Rationalizing the silent treatment he got from one of his newest acquaintances, Reivan resumed harassing her with his sixteen fangs.

Sure, they couldn’t go through her ridiculously weird wings that were somehow hard enough to repel his attacks while being soft enough to gracefully flap like a bird’s wings. But that would require Iselle to keep herself covered all the time.

She fundamentally couldn’t keep that up constantly because she had to flap her wings to continue staying in the air. That would obviously create openings to exploit, and he was not the type to just let her get away with it.

Reivan once again gained the upper hand. In fact, he even made some improvements to his attack patterns.

Instead of longswords, he controlled daggers instead, allowing them to get past her defenses more easily. Also, when he knew that a blade was going to strike the wing, he had it pause in the air instead, menacingly threatening to attack her any time. Meanwhile, the other blades continued to look for openings.

She tried to melt the floating weapons, and was actually met with success. But his weapons were conjured by his soul armament—he could just conjure them again.

As she continued her desperate battle against his fangs, one of them got a little bit too close for comfort. She managed to swat it away by hitting the flat part of the blade before it could cut open her stomach.

The moment her hand made contact, the blade released a powerful blast of frosty wind that forcefully released the black flames covering her stomach and the forearm she used to strike the blade down.

As if waiting for that exact moment, Reivan became lightning incarnate as he flashed through the battlefield and closed the distance instantly. His fist drove into her undefended stomach, sending her flying backward like a ragdoll.

Despite how fast and sudden his attack was, she’d still managed to counterattack. Some of the black flames jumped at him in that brief moment. He quickly discovered how insidious they were, instantly melting through his armor and rapidly burning his flesh, making it easy for it to be corroded by the flame’s obvious darkness attribute.

It hurt like hell too. Seriously.

Reivan wasn’t a masochist who enjoyed kinks where he burned himself, so he didn’t wait for even a second to dispel the flames.

‘Right. Melee slugfests definitely aren't an option against her.’

It would be fine to finish her off, but trying to weaken her that way was an exercise in futility. One would tire oneself out quicker because of the constant need to dispel the fire.

Reivan could theoretically just power through it by enduring, repeatedly regenerating wounds through [Effect Reproduction] instead of dispelling the fire. But that was crazy and he’d only do that if his literal life was on the line.

Good thing they weren’t really enemies, then. Iselle’s troublesome powers were her enemy’s problems now.

Watching her skid to a halt dozens of paces away, Reivan flexed the fingers in the hand he’d just used.

‘So soft…’

With a fake cough to clear his head of stupid thoughts that would get him flak from a certain young lady who had supernatural intuition, Reivan squinted to get a better look at his opponent and realized she wasn’t down for the count yet.

And judging from the look in her eyes, she hadn’t given up yet either.

Before she could recover and regain her bearings, sixteen swords descended to stab in the ground and form a circle around her. Each of the blades exploded in a burst of frost essence. Under his manipulation, none of the cold left the circle.

All of it was focused on the being struggling to stand up in the middle.

When his technique was over, there was a giant pillar of ice with a beauty frozen within.

“That’s new,” Jiji remarked from the side, a tiny white kitten in her arms. “You never did that against me when we sparred.”

Reivan tried to catch his breath. His mana pool was running dry after that. “Of course. You have the ice attribute too, so why would I use ice against you?”

“You didn’t use it against Helen either though?”

“Eh, well…” Reivan momentarily glanced at Helen’s stomach before looking away. “I didn’t want any accidents. Just in case.”

Helen smiled, her hands carefully stroking her navel.

Jiji saw this and snorted. “You guys are acting as if she’s already pregnant. A priest checks every morning, no? Can you stop that?”

Instead of stopping, Helen turned her entire body toward the cat-eared princess and rubbed her stomach with even more exaggerated motions.

Some bickering immediately ensued, but Reivan just let them be. He walked toward the ice pillar and with a mere thought, the entire thing dissolved back into frost essence that would have dissolved into the air.

Except he used the ability he and Zouros shared, absorbing the essence that would have gone to waste. All of it got sucked straight back into his body.

It didn’t restore all the mana he’d spent, but this was more than enough.

If he could spare the effort to do this in battle, he could fight for much longer periods. Add to that how he could absorb energy from his opponents too, and his battle stamina was truly fraudulent. Even he had to admit that he was a little too OP for his realm.

Any Ascendent could still turn him into a pancake with a mere thought though. So he wouldn’t ever get a big head over his relatively meager power though.

“Ah…” Iselle fell to her knees, shivering. The dark flames around her body were all gone but her clothes were thankfully intact, to Reivan’s relief and mild disappointment.

“Do you yield?” Reivan smiled and pressed a sword to her throat.

Immediately understanding her situation, she nodded. “I lost, Your Highness.”

“Uh-huh. You fought well.” Satisfied, Reivan’s blade vanished and so too did his armor. He then reached out to offer her a hand.

She just looked at his hand with confusion as she stood up herself though.

‘Ah. Do they not help each other up or something?’

It was another culture thing. He didn’t let it bother him and withdrew his hand.

“I am ashamed,” Iselle shrunk into herself as her head hung low. “I was defeated so easily by Your Highness. You don’t seem to be tired at all.”

“Ah, that’s…” Reivan scratched his head.

How could he explain that he had various special abilities? And some of them helped him not only heal his wounds but also restore his stamina. His bond with Zouros lets him use abilities to absorb the energy around him too.

It was very hard for him to get tired in any sense of the word. Basing how difficult the battle was solely on that wasn’t going to produce accurate estimates.

‘She’s a tricky enemy.’

Iselle didn’t seem weak in close combat at all, and was actually the most dangerous when she was close. Teaching her grappling techniques would probably go a long way. And if she had a soul armament to create armor for her, she’d be even more troublesome to deal with.

Then there was her ranged bombardment capabilities and her soundwave attacks. Both didn’t work well on him, but not everyone was Reivan Aizenwald.

‘She’s extremely well-balanced.’

There’s also the fact that she could fly, which he mitigated by having remote blades. But again, not everyone was him—not everyone was going to have an answer to her weapons.

‘Hm… She’s rough and unrefined. It’s a pure dependence on racial abilities that lacks refinement…’

But if she got polished up by, say, Sir Donovan…

Then Lady Iselle might grow to be a match for Helen.

Of course, Helen would destroy Iselle in their current state. Being a flying creature was a weakness in and of itself when you faced a skilled wind elementalist. None of the offensive techniques she showed today would be able to catch someone like Helen either, having both wind and lightning attributes.

Iselle would just suffer a one-sided beating.

Still, it was just an issue of compatibility. The strength she showed today was still impressive. Reivan was just a little more impressive, which made her seem weaker than she was.

“So,” Reivan offered her some medicine as he raised a brow. “Care to elaborate on your request now?”

“Yes…” Iselle gingerly took the medicine and swallowed it. Apparently, this wasn’t her first encounter with his healing medicine, meaning she’d taken it after sparring with someone else. “I wanted you to take us with you to this place called Lageton. As your personal retainers…”

“And by us, you mean…?”

“All the darkin in Aizen, of course,” she clarified.

Reivan palmed his forehead. “You can’t be serious…”

“I am.” Iselle clasped her hands to her chest. “I wanted to prove how capable we are by sparring with you… but…”

“Setting aside how the issue isn’t even your capabilities, aren’t you part of the matriarch bloodline? That means you’re stronger than the others of your clan. You're not an accurate depiction of the darkin’s average strength.”

She shook her head. “Aside from pure physical prowess, my sisters are not much different from me. Please believe me. Everything I have shown you is something all of them can do as well.”

‘Damn. Seriously?’

Reivan was a bit tempted. Having an aerial force composed of fallen angels was ridiculously enticing. But he forced himself to be rational. “Lageton is no joking matter.”

“We understand that.” Iselle stepped closer. “That is why we wish to come. To offer our services.”

“We already have enough warriors. All of which are very capable.”

“But we, the darkin, can do things your warriors cannot.”

“I don’t want to demean you, Lady Iselle,” Reivan scratched his head. “But wind elementalists can fly as well. We have sky arks too, if we want to bombard an area below or transport things through the air. The darkin do not offer anything particularly unique in my eyes.”

That seemed to have stung a little, because Iselle visibly deflated, not knowing what to say.

‘Agh, crap. Maybe I was a little too hard on her…’

He couldn’t just let her take her people somewhere so dangerous though. Especially when they were so ignorant of many things in the world and might not understand just what they were getting themselves into.

Furthermore, they were a race oppressed by the environment they resided in until recently—they hadn’t fully adjusted to the shift in their lifestyles. Why would he allow them to change lifestyles again? If that wasn’t enough, he didn’t know how others would react to the darkin.

The darkin was too big of a chaotic element.

Arc#5 Chapter 11: The Power of Numbers

Time passed quickly for Reivan after he returned from his short reunion with Elsamina and his first exposure to the republic's tragic state.

The darkin ladies were handled exclusively by his sister, Jiji. She was both a woman and a non-human, so she was one of the royal family members that the darkin could relate to the most. His Uncle Viktor had a very high reputation among the winged ladies too, and by virtue of looking very similar, she got a boost in her affability. Jiji was also very good at socializing when she tried, making her perfect for the job.

As for the wedding preparations, Reivan wished he could continue letting the women in his family handle that since their aesthetic tastes regarding this kind of thing obviously trumped his own. But sadly, being the groom meant that he couldn't too many steps back. It was fortunate that he remembered the advice of his forebears to simply nod along and say that everything was perfect.

Except for the cake. The advice really was valuable because he almost got stuck with boring old chocolate.

'Not that I'm hating on chocolate, but...'

He had it so often though. Obviously, he wanted something fresh and different to commemorate one of the most significant days of both his lives. Everyone involved seemed to understand him, so the most famous cake makers were called and asked for a contribution.

Surprisingly, it was the elderly patissier who made the initial cake who stepped up and presented the best alternative. Reivan couldn't quite compare it with anything in his previous world since the flavoring used fruits unique to the Pentagoria Continent, mixed with vanilla cream and crushed cookies.

It tasted absolutely fantastic. Helen liked it too, thereby sealing the deal. The only complaint they had was that they wouldn't be able to taste it for the first time during the wedding reception. But that was fine, since at least they wouldn't be stuck with a boring cake.

Now, everything was perfect and Reivan could proudly say that he contributed something to the preparations.

Of course, he wasn't just idling around and trying his best to help. He was doing his own set of preparations for the coming years by spending some time in the Sword Sanctum.

"Did I do it right, Mother?" Reivan strained his neck to glance at the woman squatting behind him on the grass with a palm on his back. "I did, didn't I? I really am a genius."

Vianna snorted, but still smiled. "You certainly learn quickly, but shouldn't you lower your arrogance?"

"If it's true, then it's not arrogance. But confidence."

"Yes, yes. My son's all grown up and he's always right."

Reivan chuckled as the hand on his back came up to pinch his cheeks instead. "Not always, but I am all grown up. I'm even getting married in a few days~!"

"And now he's boasting about it..." Vianna shook her head in exasperation as she let go of him and leaned against the pink cherry blossom tree behind her. "With this, you've learned all you can for now. Anything else will either have to wait until you Ascend, or if you come up with some other versions on your own."

"I think they're good enough on their own, but I'll try to improve them along with what I learned from Uncle if I can. Doubt I could, though. They're techniques that you two came up with, after all."

"Don't count yourself out that quickly. Different people have different insights on things." Vianna chided him with a soft thump on the back of his head. "Take what you can and make it your own. That's the best way."

Reivan touched the spot she hit and smiled. "I'll do my best. Thanks for worrying about me."

It was only for a short time, but his mother and uncle taught him some techniques along with possible ways to utilize his bloodline. He wasn't a warbeast, so none of them knew if the information was relevant to him. But the techniques didn't need to draw upon any bloodlines so they were definitely useful.

He knew for a fact that they were just concerned for his safety and wanted him to have as many combat options as possible.

"Son..." Vianna suddenly hugged him from behind, her familiar motherly warmth enveloping him. "If it's too hard, you should just come back here, alright? Your life is still the most important."

Reivan leaned into her embrace with closed eyes, enjoying the sensation he had grown so used to in this life but never experienced in his past. "I know. But don't worry too much. I'm pretty strong too, but I'm still going to be protected by a lot of knights. And there won't be any Ascendants participating... if the treaty is to be trusted."

"Only a fool would trust it completely. Do not be a fool."

"I'm won't, I won't. The treaty isn't absolutely binding the same way a knight's vows are. I will be careful and always assume the worst."

"Very good." Vianna stroked his head, just like she always did when he was young. "But I'm serious, you know? You can say no whenever you want. I'll take your side even if your father and brother say otherwise."

Reivan's brows furrowed and he opened his eyes. "Don't say such things."

"I mean it."

"There's no need." Reivan released himself from her and pushed up against the green grass to stand up. He then stared down at her. "One cannot spend their life doing only what they want. I will do what I must because I am a prince who shares responsibility for this nation. Because I am a part of this family. Because I share responsibility for the happiness of its members. And because I want to."

Their golden eyes met across the air before she pouted a little too cutely for someone with a son. "But I've heard you complaining about how many concubines you have..."

"Urgh... Well..." Reivan scratched his cheek sheepishly as he looked away. "I'll admit that my personality's not the best, so I frequently complain about things out loud..."

"If it's like that, then shouldn't you just say no, then?"

"You don't understand, Mother. Didn't I say I'm doing this to make my family happy? If having a bunch of concubines and fathering a ton of children will do that, then that is what I will do. We all have our parts to do, and I know that this is mine. By raising me with love and care, you have fulfilled yours."

"That's—"

"Besides," Reivan cut her off with a smirk. "I like taking care of children. Seeing a bunch of them running around and playing won't be such a bad thing."

Of course, he only meant children in his family. He didn't think he liked children in general.

Kyouka when she was little, Helen when she was younger, and now there were Roland's kids. Reivan realized that seeing kids being kids scratched an itch in his heart that he wasn't fully aware of. Seeing them happy made him happy too. Almost as if he was living vicariously through them.

He didn't have some grand goal to change the world or save it from evil. There was nothing wrong with just doing everything he could for the people who gave him so much joy in this life, right?

Reivan thought that he owed his mother a lot, though it wasn't like he was doing everything just to pay her back. Her goals were his goals now. And as her son, he would shoulder her expectations.

Because he could. Because no one else could. Because he must.

And because he wanted to.

"Oh, you..." Vianna bit her lip and stood up to hug him again. "You really know what to say, you cheeky brat..."

Reivan chuckled as he hugged her back. This. This warmth was something he would go to war for, he felt. A life of not growing up with it made him appreciate it even more.

"I suppose you're ready for marriage if you can appease a woman like this." Vianna let go of him and squished his cheeks together. "Then I shouldn't hold back with my expectations, hm?"

"Eh? Well, uh... Maybe hold back a little bit, okay?"

"Where's all the bluster and confidence from earlier?"

"You'll have to ask my secretary, since I seem to have misplaced them."

The two of them laughed and chatted for a bit longer before parting ways, though Reivan chose to stay in the Sanctum to digest what he'd learned. There was just something about the place that fostered focus, inducing a trance-like state that made it easier to perceive the supernatural forces of the world.

Hell, maybe it was placebo and he was talking out of his ass. Who knew?

In any case, one of the most useful techniques he learned was one that spread cold air throughout a very wide area.

Though he could accomplish something similar with a brute force display and with the help of numerous other frost elementalists, with this technique, he could do it by himself. Of course, he would need some prior preparation, so it wasn't very practical for battle. But he wasn't planning to use it for battle in the first place.

'Lageton, I swear I'll be ready for you.'

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On one seemingly ordinary morning, Reivan and Helen's routine of sparring with each other was broken by an unexpected visitor.

It was Lady Iselle, the young leader of the darkin.

Reivan signed for Helen to stop just before she struck his head with a mace—a weapon she didn't use much, but she wanted to refresh her blunt weapon proficiencies today—and turned to the visitors. "Jiji. Lady Iselle. A pleasant morning to you... But what brings you here of all places?"

Jiji subtly pointed at Iselle with just her eyes as she explained. "Izzy here has something to talk to you about. Isn't that right?"

Lady Iselle nodded demurely. "I had to trouble Jiji, but I hope I'm not being a nuisance to His Highness."

'Izzy...?'

Clearly, they'd gotten closer seeing as they were already using nicknames. Jiji's name was so short that a nickname would be ironically harder to say, so being allowed to refer to her using only her first name, without a title, was a privilege few had in this world. Some people, like her adoptive brother, liked to refer to her as "brat" sometimes though.

"Not at all." Reivan shook his head with a smile, turning to Helen for confirmation.

Noticing what he wanted of her, Helen nodded with a small smile of her own—which was about the best her stony face could manage on such short notice. "You're not being a nuisance, Lady Iselle. Please, feel free to speak."

Satisfied with her follow-up, Reivan sized up the visitor.

Gone were the darkin's previous garbs. Iselle now wore a clean white tunic that contrasted her crimson irises and her jet-black hair was braided into an elegant bun behind her head. It seemed some modifications had been made to her top, for her wings jutted out of it and were comfortably folded behind her. As for her legs, they were wrapped in those knightly breeches that Reivan appreciated very much.

All in all, she looked a lot cleaner and more put together than the first time they'd met. Like a princess trying to blend into the crowd, but very badly doing so because of just how majestic they were.

'Hm? Given her status, shouldn't they have given her a few dresses? And the darkin seemed to really like dresses too...'

Her current attire made him think she was here to spar with them or something. However, that seemed a bit absurd given how she was an Ascendant while everyone in the courtyard was a mortal.

"Eh? Wait a minute..." Reivan suddenly noticed the absence of a familiar pressure whenever he met an Ascendant.

To confirm his suspicions, he checked her with [Supreme Insight] and had to rub his eyes to see if he was seeing correctly. Everything was mostly the same. Only two pieces of information had changed.

"You're not an Ascendant anymore...?" he muttered in a daze.

Helen raised a brow beside him and whispered. "Was she one in the first place?"

"Yes, she was. I checked her first when they all arrived."

"Maybe you mixed her up with someone else?"

"There's no way I did..." Reivan frowned as he scratched his head. "Or did I?"

'Holy shit, was I actually wrong? Or am I gaslighting myself into thinking I'm wrong right now?'

His memory wasn't that bad. In fact, it was rather good since with his rising physical capabilities, his brain's capabilities rose with it. As such, he was rather confident in this matter. But the present situation was making him second-guess himself.

Eventually, Jiji held her hand out with a giggle. "Don't worry, Yani. You're not wrong and you're not going senile either."

Reivan and Helen tilted their heads in sync.

It was Lady Iselle who spoke up with a sheepish smile. "If you'll allow me to explain..."

Apparently, members of the darkin's matriarch bloodline had a special technique that allowed them to take a bit of power from every clan member nearby, gathering that within themselves and temporarily rising in power. If the power obtained tipped over enough, then they'd temporarily rise in realm. The other two Ascendants were true Ascendants, but Iselle had temporarily boosted her strength when their group got cut off and came under attack.

'That... That sounds extremely overpowered! Oh my god!'

Didn't that mean that with sufficient numbers, they could boost someone up beyond Transcendence? If there were seven billion darkin, could they temporarily give birth to an Archon? Or maybe just an Empyrean, but even that was crazy.

Iselle followed up by saying that the technique did have a fatal drawback that made it something to be used only in extreme emergencies. Basically, the strength taken would return after a few days, but it wouldn't return completely. A quarter of the strength would vanish, and the darkin who lent part of their power would be permanently weaker.

And they couldn't just train to make it rise again. Because what disappeared was potential. They couldn't train back what they'd lost, because they lower the limits of their body every time they participate.

Apparently, this loss of potential followed them even after they Ascended.

'Oh. That explains why their Ascendants are weaker compared to ours.'

That also meant that their people were forced to use this costly technique very frequently. It would take a lot of uses to explain the relative weakness of their Ascendents when compared to human ones.

"Your people really had it rough," Helen remarked with sympathetic eyes. "You still seem quite strong yourself, despite that."

Iselle shyly nodded. "Though I feel embarrassed about it, I was called somewhat of a prodigy among my people. So I've been able to come close to the next step despite my youth. I was actually preparing to make an attempt when we got split off."

"You should stand proud." Reivan smiled reassuringly. "Not everyone can become a Half-Ascendant at such a young age."

"Yes..."

It seemed she got a bit shy from praise, so Reivan didn't trouble her and changed the subject despite the instinct to continue teasing. "Ah, you wanted to talk to me about something, right? We got sidetracked because I noticed the change in you... or rather, the reversal of changes."

"Ah. Yes, that's right." Lady Iselle then bowed deeply. "It's just that Jiji has told me that you were very adamant about helping our people, even going so far as to speak out for us. You were the loudest voice in the royal family regarding our good treatment. I came here to offer you our sincere gratitude."

"Oh, there's no need to keep mentioning that..." Reivan chuckled and sheepishly scratched his head. He wasn't doing this out of some goodwill, but to fulfill the favor that Zell asked him of. Given everything that the world-devouring serpent did for him, he obviously felt quite indebted to her and would aim to help the darkin out as long as it didn't negatively impact the nation too much.

Endangering knights in search of them had been too much by his books. But the crown and the knights were all curious about the signs of civilization they'd been finding for the longest time, so expeditions would have happened regardless of his influence. The portal and the Outlands weren't going anywhere, so Aizen wanted to understand it as much as possible—and through understanding, they would know how to better handle the accursed place.

"Izzy, take it out." Jiji nudged the winged woman with a grin.

"Ah, yes. I almost forgot..." Iselle gingerly retrieved something from her spatial ring and presented it to him. "It is not much, and I don't even know if you will like it, but we have prepared a gift for you."

'Oh? What's this...?'

Reivan carefully received the cloak seemingly fashioned from numerous black feathers and immediately realized where said feathers came from. "Oh, wow. This is so cool..."

"I told you he'd like it," Jiji whispered unquietly to Iselle before turning to him. "All the darkin pitched in to hand over feathers you know?"

"Really? There are so many though... I hope nobody's walking around with no feathers. That'd be horrible."

"Uhm, there's no need to worry about that..." Iselle offered with a bit of panic. "Our feathers don't come off easily, but when they do, they'll grow back quickly enough. And each of us only had to contribute ten or so feathers."

Reivan hummed in understanding as he ran a hand across the cloak. It looked surprisingly durable and rather than being held together by something, it was almost as if the feathers were magnetically attached to each other. With a quick examination, [Supreme Insight] told him that the cloak didn't have any particular effects. But oddly enough, that made the gift more sincere in his eyes.

The darkin had practically nothing to their name. Yet they still racked their brain to come up with something to gift him. It meant a lot more than a sack of precious jewels from a rich man, so to speak. They had quite literally scraped the bottom of the barrel just to show him their appreciation.

"Can I really have this?" Reivan raised a brow, turning to Iselle with a smile.

"It would be an honor if you would take it." She bowed again. "And it is also to congratulate you on your... uhm, wedding? I believe it was called. The human mating ritual. We have made one for Lady Helen as well."

"Eh? Me too?" Helen tilted her head and pointed at herself. But she also received a cloak of feathers and smiled. "It's nice. Thank you."

"We truly appreciate the darkin's gifts, Lady Iselle." Reivan tried not to laugh at what the darkin called marriage, lest he make her feel made fun of. "I would have loved it if you could attend."

"That would also be an honor, but unfortunately, we are afraid we'd embarrass ourselves in front of your guests... And as it is a special day for His Highness, we would not want to steal away the attention."

'Ah. Didn't think of it that way... They're really considerate, aren't they?'

It was a quality that made them very easy to get along with and simultaneously made everyone around them amiable.

Reivan suddenly realized that his sister may have said something to incite such an opinion, so he unconsciously looked at her with suspicion.

And it seemed she could tell what he was thinking, because her brows furrowed as she explained. "I tried to convince them it'd be fine, okay? I didn't bully them in any way."

"I didn't say anything though? Why are you so defensive?"

"Your eyes said it all."

Reivan snorted at her before smiling at Iselle once again. "I'm sure you and your people will adjust to life here in time. Then we can reveal your existence to the rest of the nation. And I'm sure our people will welcome you with open arms."

Iselle delicately nodded. "Yes..."

"Oh, and of course, I will do my utmost to accelerate the attempt to send a search party for the rest of your kind."

His words seemed to go over very well because she brightened up and practically beamed in joy at him. "Yes. Thank you, Your Highness. All of us truly appreciate your kindness."

"Uh-huh. Well, that's all well and good, but I hope you understand that it may take a while... Months, at least. Perhaps even a year of preparation is required for another trip. The Outlands is a very dangerous place that devours the unprepared, as I'm confident you've experienced plenty of times."

"We understand. Please do not worry and take your time." She bowed with a solemn expression and glanced at Jiji for a moment before her smile returned. "Jiji has helped us calm down and think things through more clearly."

"Really, now? How so?"

"We will no longer insist on returning to our world by ourselves."

"That's... That's excellent news." Reivan nodded to himself. The darkin recklessly going off on their own and getting themselves killed was one of the worst-case scenarios in Reivan's mind. But it seemed as if they had finally seen the light. "What brought this on, if I may ask?"

It was Jiji who answered. "I simply pointed out that while their clan had a chance of surviving in the Outlands, the group we rescued did not. They would simply be getting themselves killed for no reason, given their overall strength."

Iselle nodded. "That alone wasn't enough to convince us, but she also said that rather than getting ourselves killed, it is better to pave the way for the rest of our kind. We will live in this world and be accepted, making it easier for the others to be accepted when they finally arrive. We will set the foundation for the place where our kind will belong."

"That's a fantastic mindset." Reivan smiled proudly as he looked toward his sister. She had done really well this time. He supposed that mouth of hers had a use after all, other than spouting insolent crap at him in private. "Of course, I will also help as much as I can in this wonderful endeavor."

It was a lot better than a suicidal expedition with little support from the kingdom and its knights.

"Thank you very much." Iselle happily bowed, the hair bun on the back of her head unsteadily shaking from the exertion. Then she looked up with a bit of hesitation. "To be honest, I have a request regarding that..."

"A request...?" Reivan momentarily glanced at Jiji and noted how the cat-eared princess wasn't surprised in the slightest. "Let's hear it then."

If Jiji wasn't surprised, that meant she knew. And that likely meant that Iselle had either consulted her or the request was conceived during a prior conversation of theirs. Finally, if Jiji didn't inform him in advance, that meant it wasn't too troublesome.

'Or it's so troublesome that she knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that I'd refuse.'

Reivan thought that he'd built a reputation as being a tolerant prince, so people generally understood that they would have to go really far to get on his nerves. This wasn't just for those he was close to either, but to those beneath him as well.

After all, in his past life, a literal butler had filled the role of a father figure for him. And he received so much care from other servants too. Naturally, he grew to be more respectful of the people taking care of his daily needs, even if they were being fairly compensated to do so.

Hopefully, he could instill such qualities in his future children as well. Without the trauma he himself had to suffer, of course.

'Anyway, I wonder what she's going to ask for?'

If it was just some money to fund the construction of a home suitable to their tastes, then he would be more than happy to give it to them. He had more than enough money at this point. And when he took up his post in Lageton, he would have little need of it due to the full support of Aizen's coffers behind him.

As long as it didn't involve sacrificing his firstborn child or anything, he would probably grant them their request.

Still, he had learned his lessons from past conversations and knew better than to accept before hearing it all out.

"Before that..." Iselle momentarily glanced at Helen before her crimson eyes returned to answer his gaze. "I would like to participate in your morning spar."

"Huh?" Reivan raised a brow. "What for?"

"I believe that my request will be received better if you are aware of my strength."

"Uh, there's no need for violence and whatnot..."

With his special ability, he could see that her Might was actually similar to his. Of course, he could increase it even more because of his numerous steroid abilities. But he could already tell that she wasn't some pushover.

That said, strength couldn't be entirely summed up with just a number.

Seeing his reluctance must have made her panic, because she bowed once again. "Please. Let me prove my capabilities."

As Reivan hesitated from the increased sincerity, Helen nudged him with her elbow. "Why don't you just do it?"

"Why are you suddenly taking her side...?" he asked her with a hint of shock. "Coming from you, I would've thought that you'd want to spar her in my place."

"She seems to really want to, so why not? We haven't been able to fight each other properly, so you may as well use her as a whetstone instead. Also, she'll be a fresh experience because you two have never fought before and have no idea of how the other fights. Maybe you'll get new combat insights from the battle."

"That... Okay, you have a point."

Reivan scratched his chin, once again realizing that he had become a bit of a battle junky since embracing the knightly lifestyle.

Arc#5 Chapter 10: Survey Team

[Author's Note]

Merry Chrismas, everyone~!

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Given the event they had just attended, both Reivan and Elsamina understandably did not feel up to a hot and passionate night.

But that was fine. Cuddling as they fell into the embrace of slumber was a very nice alternative. The warmth they felt from each other's presence was the most pleasant blanket and the other's gentle breathing was the most delightful serenade. It made them forget how fragile happiness was, for tragedy could strike at any moment and in entirely unpredictable ways.

The following morning, Reivan expected to wake up first since his routine usually started before the sun peeked out from beyond the horizon. But Elsamina woke up just as he did, though she was adorably rubbing her eyes as she followed him to the mansion's inner courtyard where he meditated.

It was a bit hard to focus though because she was watching.

Unable to take it anymore, Reivan cracked his eyes open and glanced at her. "Why don't you go back to sleep?"

Elsamina couldn't suppress a yawn before answering. "I want to watch. I can't?"

"It's not that you can't..."

"Am I bothering you?"

She was, actually. But Reivan shook his head with a smile and closed his eyes again.

With his impending duties and the need to father some children, he had no plans to Ascend anytime soon. But it didn't hurt to continue practicing so he could when the time came. Helen seemed confident she could do it whenever she wanted to and he wanted to be able to say the same thing.

Immortality.

It still boggled his mind just how close he was to achieving it. As someone who woke up every day wondering if that was the last time he would ever open his eyes, it was strange to think about how he could achieve eternal life.

The two energies within him—mana and qi—fused into essence easily enough due to regular practice. But he still found it difficult to fuse directly with his body.

Over time, he realized that "fusing it with the vessel" actually meant injecting the essence into himself on a molecular level. It was crazy to him how he could now perceive the tiny little building blocks that composed his very being, but he supposed that wasn't even the craziest thing he had come to know since dying.

Naturally, it was difficult. Otherwise, there would be more Ascendants flying around like fruit flies. The body denied the essence. Rejected it, even. Despite essence being a combination of energies that already resided within his body, the moment he tried to infuse it into his cells, rejection would occur.

'There has to be a trick to it.'

He just hasn't figured it out yet, Reivan thought. Internally, he wished he could ask someone for advice but apparently, this step had to be explored alone. Because each individual had a different body and Ascendance wasn't the same for everyone. At least he could find solace in the knowledge that it was possible; just a quick glance at any Ascendant proved that fusing essence and flesh was feasible.

Unfortunately, all he could do was push himself for now. Specifically, he would maintain the state for as long as he could while trying to suss out what he was doing wrong—the brute force method, in other words.

One could only do this for so long, however.

"Haa." Reivan released a tired sigh as he opened his eyes again, noticing how sweaty he'd gotten. His entire body was soaked, strands of hair clinging to his face as beads of sweat trickled down his chin. With a flick of his wrist, however, the sweat was frozen and extracted, leaving behind only a feeling of freshness.

"You weren't moving, but you sweat so much," Elsamina commented from the side, a tray of sandwiches on her lap as she sat right beside him on the grass. She gestured for him to take some before she continued. "It felt like something was happening though."

"I was training to Ascend." He took one and bit into it, immediately realizing that the sandwich had ham, cheese, and bacon in it. It tasted fantastic despite the simplicity, making him unconsciously lick his lips to prevent wasting the meaty juices. "I'm not going to go through with it yet, but it never hurts to know."

"Hmm... I heard Ascendants can't have kids."

"That's right. That's also why I don't really want to Ascend yet." Reivan grinned as he brought his face close. "Who's going to make you a mother if I become an Ascendant? It's natural for me to hold back for now."

Elsamina playfully pushed him away and fed him another sandwich. "But who said Ascendants couldn't?"

"Who...? Well, it isn't as if someone said so. That's just how it is. People have tried. People have failed."

"Really... I wonder why?"

Reivan chewed on his mouthful carefully before opening his mouth to ask her to feed him again—a request she granted with an amused smile. When he was done, he swallowed and began to explain. He wanted her to Ascend one day, so it wouldn't hurt to explain more about Ascendants. Knowledge about them wasn't exactly widespread among the ordinary populace.

Elsamina latched on to one particular fact though. "So Ascendants are basically made of energy and can just take a physical form... And that's part of why they can't have children?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Hmm. So since Ascendants are different from mortals, why do they think doing it the mortal way is going to get them what they want?"

Reivan's hand paused on its way to take the last sandwich. "Huh?"

Elsamina rolled her wrist as she elaborated. "No, see. If they're made of energy, then it only makes sense that trying it the biological way isn't going to work. Humans have sex and everything to procreate, just like most other animals made of flesh and blood. Ascendants aren't flesh and blood."

"I can see your point, yeah..."

"Even among biological creatures, there are different ways of reproduction, right? I got an Aizenian tutor so I can at least be as educated as a graduate, and I know the kingdom even teaches children about this. Humans and a lot of beasts mate, birds and fish lay eggs. And I forgot what it was called, but some creatures split themselves in half to reproduce, right? Little tiny ones you can't see unless you use a special magnifying tool. Maybe Ascendants have a special way too. Just one that nobody's figured out yet."

Slowly, Reivan covered his mouth and fell into thought. Honestly, she was making some very good points. But he realized that if she'd thought about this, plenty of other people in eras past probably thought about it too.

They thought about it, but even then, they still couldn't find what the method was. Or if it even existed at all.

People probably tried all sorts of things but nothing worked.

'It's an interesting line of thought though.'

Everything that is known about everything isn't everything there is to know.

Some old Aizenian scholar said that and someone else saw fit to quote it. Now the same words were engraved on the royal academy's archway. Reivan supposed it was similar to that quote about knowing how little one truly knows, no matter how knowledgeable one becomes.

"You're making some really good points." Reivan smiled as he tucked a tuft of her hair behind her ear, feeling her soft cheeks brush against his fingers. "I'll point it out to some Ascendants I know when I get home."

Elsamina shrugged as she tilted her head toward him. "Hm... It's fine. Considering Aizen's long history, someone has probably thought of the same thing and tried to find a way for Ascendants to make children. They just couldn't find it in the end."

Unconsciously, Reivan smiled. It seemed he and his wife had similar thought processes from time to time.

After finishing off his impromptu breakfast, Reivan went to take a bath. Not to cleanse himself of sweat, seeing as he pulled Elsamina in with him and didn't leave until quite a while. His promise with Helen meant he had to get home by morning though, so he couldn't let it pass.

His time together with Elsa would temporarily end.

That said, she accompanied him all the way to the newly built castle on the eastern edge of Lageton, where the teleportation gate was hidden underground. It was a fact he appreciated greatly.

Reivan opened the magitech carriage door but looked at his seatmate before climbing out. "I'll see you. After the thing."

"Just call it a wedding, honey." Elsa rolled her eyes and shooed him away. "Go. Go get married and come back."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll do my best." Reivan playfully grinned as he beat his chest twice. "Take care of yourself... Gwen is apparently still around so ask her for help if you need anything. She's really great. Oh, and don't feel shy about asking one of the [Ice] affinity knights to help you cool down in this godforsaken heat. Also—"

"I believe you've told me all of this before."

Reivan nodded. He had indeed told her all of this before, but he still couldn't help but worry a little, so he added something else. "You should move into the castle. It's more secure than the mansion."

Elsa's brows furrowed. "Is that really okay?"

"What do you mean? Of course. You're going to be my wife soon, so there is naturally nothing wrong with you staying at my castle."

"But you haven't announced it yet, right? We just appeared at the funeral last night. You were using your Ken face for it."

Reivan slapped himself on the mouth. "Crap. You're right... It'll look bad, won't it?"

Either people would interpret that as the prince stealing someone else's woman. Or the prince was getting cucked. Either way, Elsamina would be seen as a cheating whore. None of the interpretations were real, of course, since the men she was involved with were both him. But in this case, the truth didn't matter—what mattered was what the ordinary populace would believe.

'That's my bad, honestly. I shouldn't have mindlessly shown up with her like that... Wait, won't this mess up the wedding too? I doubt people would forget Elsa walking around arm-in-arm with some other dude.'

Elsa hummed in thought for a moment, offering a reasonable suggestion. "Since the prince isn't officially in the castle yet, I think it'll be fine as long as the stated reason as to why I'm staying there is something reasonable."

Reivan tried to come up with a solution too before eventually shrugging. "Just say you've been given a position. And that's partly why your companies are in charge of relief distribution."

"I suppose that could work... But really, I don't think I need to go this far. The mansion is perfectly safe and is already guarded. You've even granted me an additional escort—which I now know are knights."

"The castle is still safer. Stay there until the situation in Arkhan stabilizes."

"But our people will find it harder to reach me if I live in the castle..."

"This isn't negotiable, Elsa." Reivan licked his lower lip, knowing he was being a little overbearing. "Kindly stay in the castle for the meantime. Nowhere in Arkhan is safe at the moment."

Elsamina smiled as her emerald eyes gazed deeply into his own. "We're not even married yet and you're already like this?"

"Urgh... I'm sor—"

"Don't apologize. I was just joking," she said, momentarily sticking her tongue out. "I can understand your concerns and it's not much trouble to stay here instead. Rather, it'd be an honor, since if any place is having its temperature maintained to a comfortable level, it's this place."

Reivan sighed in relief. "That's good to hear."

"Is there a reason you're insisting on this more than I expected? I mean, sure it's a little chaotic right now, but the mansion is fortified and has plenty of guards. I've had no trouble living in it these past few months."

'No, no. You don't get it. Things have a high chance of growing even worse than it is now.'

Arkhan would pretty much be Argonia and Aizen's playground from now on. In this place, they would use mortals to fight each other. According to the Sword Star, it's probably because the War God wanted a land of constant strife to use as proving grounds for his heroes.

Reivan didn't know what exactly that entailed, but using the closest thing he could think of, he supposed it would be akin to summoning a bunch of genius knights like Hector.

'They probably don't compare to Helen or me, though... I hope not, at least.'

But a bunch of Hectors running around with the rabid intention of shoving a blade through his throat was somewhat alarming. They may not even be geniuses of pure strength, but of tactics, administration, or something else.

In any case, going after key personnel like Elsa was right up the imperial playbook. Hence, she needed to be protected.

One would think that the empire was full of fighting junkies that sought out the strongest foes to use as whetstones for their rise to greatness. And that was actually the case. However, they also had a very practical view of warfare where picking off weak but important people whenever they could was acceptable—no, it was downright recommended.

‘Well, it’s not like she’s completely unprotected now.’

Sometime last night, Reivan had helped Elsa form a temporary contract with one of the spirit beasts he’d brought home from the Sanctuary all those months ago. It was a reddish lion with fiery hair that wasn’t actually fire, since he’d pulled on it when they fought.

Though its Might was only at the eight hundreds, that was more than enough to destroy most mortals. Spirit beasts even had the edge of not worrying about their lives, enabling them to be more reckless in their attacks. Additionally, they were born elementalists. What humans worked hard to learn came naturally to them.

‘It’s unfortunate that it didn’t immediately want to form a permanent contract with her like the dragons did with Helen and Hector or the swan with Gwen. But I guess they’re exceptions.’

The lion did seem to view Elsa favorably though, so he had high hopes things would go well. And the unlimited supply of spirit dew pills to sweeten the deal pretty much-guaranteed success. In any case, that added yet another layer of safety for his relatively fragile fiancee—on top of all the knights guarding her too.

It really set his mind at ease.

“See you soon.” Reivan leaned forward and gave her a peck on the forehead before climbing out. “Remember—”

“I know, honey.” Elsamina rolled her eyes with an exasperated giggle. “You worry too much.”

“I worry a moderate amount, thank you very much.”

“Oh, whatever. Get out of here already.”

With that, they truly parted ways. Reivan stood at the castle gates as Elsa’s carriage clankered off, the sounds it produced once again reminding him to ask for a rendition of the magitech carriage made with the art of artificing instead of sorcery. Hopefully, it would ride much smoother.

“Your Highness.”

“Fu—!” Reivan looked back and tried very hard not to make his surprise too apparent. “..Gwen. Don’t sneak up on people like that… You don’t even have the darkness affinity so how’d you even…?”

She gestured at the air, where seemingly nothing resided. It took a moment for him to realize that she must have been referring to her spirit beast. “Grace can hide our presence surprisingly well. Though it still wouldn’t hold a candle to that person.”

‘Filth, huh? Come to think of it, I wonder what that guy’s up to?’

Honestly, he’d forgotten about the person he’d saved and granted an opportunity to lead a second life. It felt so long ago now too, given how much has happened.

Judging by Gwen’s lack of special mention, he was sure Filth was alive somewhere.

‘Actually, now that Ascendants and Transcendents are disallowed in Arkhan, hasn’t his usefulness gone up by, like, a lot?’

Filth could literally go anywhere undetected and basically unopposed too. Perhaps there was no merit in training him up a little now. Just enough for him to run away from most things.

“Oh.” Reivan snapped out of his thoughts when he realized Gwen was just standing there, seemingly letting him think. “Did you need something? I was just about to head back to Aizen though.”

“Rather than need something,” Gwen pushed away a stray bead of sweat dripping down her cheeks before continuing. “I believe you’ll want to participate.”

“Hm? In what?”

“Recent information has made me think it would be a good idea to perform a quick survey of the surrounding land.”

“A survey…” Reivan trailed off in thought.

Come to think of it, most of the maps detailing Arkhan had lost some of their accuracy now. Given how a bunch of Transcendents nuked part of the continent and caused some volcanic eruptions among other things, it was understandable.

After that cataclysmic battle, there were also a bunch of fights between Ascendants from Argonia and the destroyed Spirit Tower's silver cloaks. It could arguably be said that they changed the landscape more than the Transcendents did—though the wide-scale change in climate within Arkhan would be a big point toward the Transcendents on this.

“What do you mean by recent information, by the way?” he asked after only a moment’s contemplation.

Gwen closed her eyes and nodded before her gaze fell in the direction of Lageton. “You may not have heard, refugees from other settlements have started to trickle into Lageton, being much safer than staying where they were.”

Reivan hummed in affirmation. “Yeah. We’ve invited them weeks ago, but they were understandably reluctant to leave their homes. That has changed?”

“Indeed. They’ve started coming in larger and larger groups. According to the words of refugees I had our battlemages question, there are more coming. From various cities at that.”

“This has been happening since when?”

“Though few in number, it started a week ago.”

“A week ago…” Reivan rubbed his chin. “These refugees and the news they bring may be the impetus for the people’s unease about the food situation then. They don’t believe we can sustain them for too long, given the rising number of mouths to feed.”

“Rest assured, Your Highness. I have already resolved to order more rations and plan to orchestrate a ploy to unintentionally reveal just how vast our supplies are. I’ll pay off a few residents to spread rumors too. That should alleviate some of the public's anxiety.”

“You’re always on top of things… Elsa and I actually talked about this exact topic last night. Maybe you two can work together on this?”

“That was what I had planned, yes. She is a highly competent woman so I believe things will go smoothly.”

“Wonderful. Now, let’s get back on the survey…” Reivan tilted his head. “What’s it for?”

Gwen took out a sheaf of papers and presented them to him. “These are a summarized version of various refugees recounting their journey to Lageton. Though lesser mortals don’t have the capability to confirm much, I have reason to believe a large host of monsters are headed our way.”

“Monsters? That’s…”

Reivan’s brows furrowed as he licked his lower lip. Thinking about it now, there were surely some monsters that had somehow survived. And these monsters either had higher resistance to heat or were fortunate enough to be where it wasn’t as bad as everywhere else.

Whatever the case, they were all going to try to move away from the origin of the intense heatwave—which was wherever that elven Transcendent kicked the bucket.

That had happened near the middle of Arkhan. Well, actually, it was more to the southern part of the middle region or the northern part of the lower region. But for simplicity’s sake, it was in the middle.

‘The heatwave spread outward from there, so the farther away you were, the better.’

Worgon Outpost was Aizen’s closest settlement to Arkhan, but it wasn’t affected at all by this heatwave. And though Lageton was suffering a whopping fifty degrees Celsius—without intervention from battlemages and knights—it was apparently worse in the middle.

‘Strangely, the heatwave wasn’t this worse directly after the tragedy. Even in the middle. This all just suddenly happened a long while after the Transcendent’s death, so something strange is afoot.’

Some brave people had apparently surveyed the old capital of Arkhan, so clearly, people didn’t melt just by being there. Now they would though, and a large portion of Arkhan’s lower regions were basically certain death zones.

Anyway, all of that meant that the towns farther away from the point of origin were having a better time than everyone else in the republic.

The monsters likely knew this too. Instinctively, or by noticing the number of people heading in this direction. Some of them were smarter than anyone gave them credit for, so it was quite possible.

‘Surveying the land is a good idea.’

It’d allow them to spot monster herds or particularly large monsters before they did anything serious. Then a sufficient suppression force can be mustered in preparation to put the creatures down. In fact, if the monsters weren't much of a big deal, the survey team could take the monsters out themselves.

“Who’s coming?” Reivan raised a brow and crossed his arms. “Surely it’s not just you and me, right?”

“House Mercer has sent a small force of mortal knights, so we have plenty of knights capable of flying,” Gwen listed off in an even tone. “There are only a hundred of them, however, and a lot of them are being tasked with climate control. So to bolster our survey team, I’ve enlisted battlemages with avian spirit beasts large enough to ride—of which there are surprisingly a lot. Battlemages prefer avian types, and this has worked to our advantage.”

‘Ah. She’s planning to ride Grace, isn’t she?’

He was glad to see that his gift was already enabling her to take even more action.

“Today’s survey will be quick,” she said. “Would you like to join us, Your Highness?”

“Of course.” Reivan nodded.

Since it was quick, surely it wouldn’t take much time. He’d get back before the morning was over.

════════════════════════════════

Reivan had initially planned to ride Zouros, but that didn’t seem like a very good idea considering how much his serpentine friend scared the crap out of nearby spirit beasts. Besides, he wasn’t even supposed to be here. A lot of people would seek him out if they knew, and then he wouldn’t get back home in time because they'd bother him in all sorts of ways.

As such, he was forced to tag along with Gwen. Naturally, he was also using a completely different appearance than the ones he usually used so as not to complicate matters.

“There weren’t any battles near Lageton, so it really boggles my mind how the surrounding terrain has changed,” he remarked as he looked down, his hands placed on Gwen’s shoulder to steady himself atop Grace, the giant white swan.

Below them was a glaring lack of greenery, just withered trees and dead earth as far as the eye could see. Dotted here and there were abandoned villages, serving as yet another reminder of just how drastic the lives of Arkhan’s people had changed since the Sage King's demise. He could see everything in great detail despite the distance and without requiring a pair of binoculars, but that pricked at his guilt more than if the scenery was too blurry.

Meanwhile, behind them were about a dozen armored knights lifting themselves up with wind and an even greater number of giant birds, each with a cloaked mage riding atop them.

‘Crazy how so many battlemages work for us now.’

Though they likely knew that Aizen had a hand in why their nation was ravaged, they still believed that Aizen was a better alternative to the empire.

And they also understood that the Sage King’s death meant that they were very dangerous liabilities who didn’t have a powerful backer protecting them. Battlemages could only avoid being hunted down if they joined one of the Treaty of Alexander’s signatories. A large number of their silver cloaks died to imperial witchhunter squads because they couldn’t duck under Aizen’s umbrella in time. What silver cloaks survived were now in Aizen, while all the mortal ones were staying in Lageton and acting as part of its military force.

All in all, however, the spirit dew pills he produced were just an additional boon for them that would also attract the more… practical battlemages who only saw their profession as a job that brought tangible benefits, not a noble calling.

“The terrain won’t trouble our knights, but the golems we salvaged from the Tower…” Gwen muttered to herself as she wrote something on her clipboard.

Reivan took a peek and his brows shot up when he realized she was drawing a map. It was surprisingly detailed too, despite its relative simplicity. Moreover, she was completing it quite fast.

‘Wow, she could make money from making manga if she wasn’t a knight. And if manga existed here.’

“You’re good at that. Drawing, I mean,” he praised, trying very hard not to move her shoulders too much.

“I sometimes draw to train my precision and dexterity,” Gwen revealed, her hands not stopping. “I can memorize what I see rather easily, but I still prefer a physical way of viewing it like this. So my training has unintended boons.”

“Can you draw other things? Or people?”

“I can draw anything.”

“Anything, huh…”

Reivan was tempted to joke around and ask her to draw hentai, but he stopped himself. That was a bit too much for a jest, given the situation. Besides, she wasn’t really the type to enjoy that particular brand of silliness.

“Shouldn’t we split up to cover more ground?” he suggested after a while.

“While that would be more efficient, I’d like to prioritize the safety of our personnel. We don’t have a lot to work with. And I’m not very familiar with how self-sufficient battlemages are. If it were just knights, I could delegate tasks more confidently, but…”

“That makes sense, yeah.”

‘I suppose she’s still getting used to the situation. Makes sense. Nobody adapts instantly to everything.’

Honestly, he was also unfamiliar with just how well battlemages did in combat. He’d been one for a while, sure, but his squad at the Tower was on the lower end of the spectrum—newborn chicks who had yet to take flight or babies who were still crawling on all fours.

Most of the ones on their impromptu survey team were veterans. True battlemages whose spell repertoire could harm even knights and whose spirit beasts had Mights at least at the four to six hundred range, with some being even stronger.

“There’s merit in holding a few spars,” Reivan suggested in a hushed tone, lowering the chance that the others could hear. “Or you could have them fight any of the monsters we see before the knights step in.”

“I will keep this in mind.” Gwen nodded, flipping a page on her clipboard to write a note to herself. “In any case, it doesn’t seem as if there’s anything abnormal nearby. We’ll return for now.”

“Already?”

“We never planned to go too far. I also just wanted to ensure that the roads weren’t entirely unusable. Though the refugees confirmed its state already, I wanted to make sure with my own eyes. We’ll send regular survey teams out from now on, in anticipation of more refugee groups.”

“I see…”

‘Well, I was expecting something exciting to happen, like a dragon showing up out of nowhere to take revenge on the one the old man killed, but I guess life’s not that eventful.’

With his heart torn between relief and a strange disappointment, the survey team returned to Lageton. Afterward, Reivan stepped through the portal and arrived at the palace on time, thereby fulfilling his promise to Helen.

Arc#5 Chapter 9: A Day to Remember

Reivan and Elsa shamelessly flirted inside the magitech carriage until they were interrupted by the a knock from the front. They hadn't even noticed it, but the carriage had lurched to a stop at some point, and the driver thankfully reminded them.

"Looks like we're here." Reivan smoothed out his clothes to make sure he was still presentable, even taking out a mirror to check if his disguise was still fine. Even though he could feel that it was, he was still compelled to make sure.

‘It never hurts to double-check these things.’

He’d never had the equivalent of a wardrobe malfunction when it came to his transformations and disguises, but he’d like to keep it that way.

Then he looked at Elsa and glanced at one of the rings on her left hand.

It was actually a heat-neutralizing artifact of the highest quality that he'd procured before coming here and was supposed to be distributed to key members of Ouroboros' staff. They specialized in handling heat instead of the temperature-neutralizing ones, which handled cold and heat.

'The current climate really is troublesome though.'

Elsamina didn't put it to use, but she innately had the [Fire]affinity. That meant she was resistant to heat, just as Reivan—who had the [Ice[ affinity—was resistant to cold.

That said, resistance didn't equate to immunity. If the temperature was intense enough, just the boon that an affinity granted wouldn't suffice. Reivan, for one, could still be frozen into a popsicle by an Ascendant or if he was dropped in a vat of liquid nitrogen for a couple of days.

And since the heat wave plaguing them right now was caused by a Transcendent, everybody in Arkhan clearly needed a bit more oomph to handle it. Luckily, just possessing the [Fire] affinity alone would have prevented her from dying of heatstroke even without the help of artifacts—though, of course, she was still heavily inconvenienced by the discomfort.

Even now, she was dabbing away at beads of sweat that constantly sprouted from her neck and forehead. It wasn’t the sexy kind of sweating either. She just looked downright uncomfortable and he didn't like that at all.

"You okay?" Reivan couldn't help but ask her just to be sure.

Elsamina put her handkerchief away and nodded with a troubled smile. "I can handle it. I've been making my rounds even before today, you know? And it's night now, so it's actually milder than usual. Still uncomfortable, but it's manageable."

He hummed in thought before taking her hand and infusing some cold energy into her body. Such an act actually counted as an "attack" and would have harmed her if done inexpertly. With how strong his body had become, his elementalism had grown equally more potent and dangerous for lesser mortals.

Perhaps because the target was someone very important to him though, Reivan found himself in top shape at the moment. He had no trouble gently guiding his energy through her veins.

"Oh, that feels nice," Elsamina remarked with wide eyes. "Thanks."

"Glad I could help." Reivan smiled and let go, opening the door and getting off the carriage first. He then turned around and offered his hand as she followed after him. "Watch your step."

She obviously didn't need any help but appreciated the gesture anyway, linking arms with him as they started walking to... well actually, Reivan didn't know. Wherever they needed to be, he supposed.

Looking around, all he could see was some walled off area, surrounded by a gray stone. Even after searching through his memories of Lageton, he couldn't remember there being a place like this. But then again, he wasn't exactly around that much these past few months.

Fortunately, Elsamina must have anticipated his confusion since she began explaining in a quiet voice. "The knights helped us set up a makeshift graveyard in the outskirts. We walled it off so monsters wouldn't dig the bodies up, though I don't think there are any left around here."

'Oh, that makes sense.'

Part of the reason why cremation was prevalent as a way to deal with the bodies of the deceased was because nobody wanted their precious family member's body to end up in some scavenger-type monster's belly. Such monsters were normally numerous and quick to proliferate. But so weak that they avoided hunting themselves.

Thankfully, that meant that they had likely gotten utterly wiped out in the chaos and the aftermath of the Sage King's death. Or perhaps they would have thrived because of all the bodies everywhere? He should probably check at some point, but he was willing to bet that they were erased from majority of Arkhan. At the very least, they would not be able to survive this heat unassisted.

In the past, the kingdom also had pest problems when it came to scavengers. That's why cremation had become the "traditional way" in Aizen since a long time ago, lasting up until the present era. Even though unrestrained monsters were nonexistent within its borders now, the tradition has simply stuck and people didn't see the need to change what had worked for thousands of years. The planting of trees the way it was done for knights in the Sword Star’s mountain was an outlier though, one reserved for heroic figures.

But with all that said, only common people were restricted to cremation as their only choice. People rich and powerful enough to erect tombs in protected areas had other options—not that they exercised this option a lot.

With his future wife in tow and idle thoughts running through his mind, Reivan walked through a very simple archway leading into the would-be cemetery.

‘That’s a lot of people.’

Scattered throughout were tombstones with actual inscriptions, with a few graves having people mourning over them. Here and there, Reivan could spot knights and what appeared to be battlemages inscribing names on the headstones with advice from the bereaved—the two types of soldiers easily distinguishable by their general features and the presence of wands.

The process of burying everyone didn’t seem to have been completed though, as countless corpses wrapped in white cloth lay strewn everywhere, waiting in eternal silence for their turn. Some were still in carts, stacked high like rolls of carpets.

“It seems they started ahead of schedule.” Elsamina looked around soberly as her hold on his arm tightened. “I wasn’t informed.”

“Well, it’s not like you were available.” Reivan cleared his throat. “We, uh, made it perfectly clear that we didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Oh. Good point, now that I think about it. I thought the organizers just didn’t want me to see the grunt work. They insisted that I only show up toward the end.”

“That was very considerate of them.”

“You know how I lived, honey. My stomach can take this kind of thing. I saw a corpse once every few weeks. And more often than not, they were someone I knew and talked to.”

Reivan grunted mutely. “Well, it’s been years since then. Are you sure you’re still the same person?”

Elsamina giggled quietly. “I suppose you’re right. Objectively, it hasn’t been all that long. But that point of my life feels so far away now.”

“That’s a good thing. Right?”

“Indeed it is. And I have you to thank.” She smiled, momentarily laying her head on his shoulder. “You took a chance on me when nobody else would have. When everybody else only saw me as something dirty and impure.“

“Eh, I was young.” Reivan shrugged with a joking grin. “Maybe I was just horny.”

“Pfff. Then I have your little guy to thank.”

"Please don't call it little..."

"Oh? I just meant it was little when compared to you as a whole. Your little one is most definitely not little."

"And like I said, stop calling it little!"

They shared amused smiles, but the reality of their surroundings quickly put a damper on things once again. In this place, happiness was hard to find and maintain. For all around them were reminders of the tragedy that had befallen the people of Arkhan—or rather, the tragedy that was still ongoing.

Looking around as they walked, the corners of Reivan’s lips gradually fell as he watched names be engraved into stone, cloth-wrapped bodies be lowered into freshly dug pits, and people from various walks of life shed tears or stop them from falling.

A silver lining, if anything, was the knights and mages working tirelessly to maintain comfortable temperatures throughout the area. Mages, on the one hand, used more direct methods like creating balls of chilling air that cooled their surroundings. Meanwhile, frost and wind-attributed knights worked hand-in-hand to create cold air and circulate it while those with the water and fire attributes manipulated temperatures directly.

The knights were foreigners. And though it wasn’t public knowledge, Aizen was partly responsible for the tragedy they suffered.

Yet at this moment, nobody cared about anybody’s origin. Nobody cared if the other’s face looked different from what they were used to. Or if the people around them weren’t those they swore to protect when they took their oaths.

Everybody just looked at the tombstones and the corpses, wishing that those people weren’t dead. Because the pain of losing someone was a pain that everybody from all walks of life around the world could understand. And few would wish that pain upon someone else.

“Honey…” Elsamina looked up at him, her green eyes holding a silent prayer behind them. “No, Your Excellency. Can I ask how you intend to handle the people? You know, when you finally hold power.”

Reivan paused to give the question the amount of consideration it deserved, but stopped when he realized how simple it was and how there really was only one answer. “It has already been decided, but how do you want me to handle them?”

“I…" she hesitated but eventually spoke in a quiet voice. "I want to help them get back up… If it won't interrupt whatever the kingdom plans...”

With a nod, Reivan directed his gaze forward. “Perfect. That was my intention too.”

Elsamina also seemed to smile. “I see. That’s good. If it ever becomes a question of money, then I’m willing to give up what little wealth I’ve personally accrued…”

Ouroboros essentially belonged to Reivan, so its bounty naturally trickled into his wallet. Elsa ran it for him, but like everyone else in the organization, she was an employee. As such, whether the businesses did well or not, she didn’t profit very much.

‘That was how she thought, at least.’

Naturally, that didn’t seem right to Reivan. So to stop her from refusing a salary—saying that as a liberated slave, she was only paying him back for freeing her—Reivan forced her to accept part of the entire organization’s profits instead of a flat sum.

Given the scale that Ouroboros had grown to, Elsamina actually ended up very wealthy in her own right. Everything was in the Aizenian lumen too, so even if the republic’s currency ended up being debased after all this, she was sitting pretty. Besides, even if she did have everything in the republic’s currency, he would have allowed her to convert it to lumen even though the crown would take a loss. Or rather, he would have asked his brother and would have easily gotten permission.

“Why are you worried about money?” Reivan scoffed. “You’ll be officially joining the family soon, so listen well, my beloved. We don’t worry about money. We’re the ones who make money. There's this artifact that prints it out and stuff.”

“As expected of Aizen’s prince.”

“That’s right. We are absolutely loaded beyond your wildest dreams. And besides,” he said as he subtly gestured all around them. “Look at this place. Do you think money has any value to these people anymore?”

Elsamina frowned, but couldn’t deny it.

With the national economy essentially devastated, people could only procure supplies locally, be it food, medical supplies, or other things like luxury items. It hadn’t reached the point where people had to starve, but that possibility inched closer day by day.

Luckily, the kingdom was sending relief aid while using Ouroboros’ subsidiaries as distribution channels.

That said, currency had all but lost its value in light of the current situation. You couldn’t eat it, wear it, or use it for self-defense. It even made for bad toilet paper. Now, goods held priority above all—in particular, food. And water too, with how rivers and seas were contaminated with ash.

“Anyway…” Reivan’s eyes sharply observed a certain item hanging from numerous people’s belts and he couldn’t help but grimace. “I’m seeing a lot of firearms.”

Elsa followed his gaze and hummed in agreement. “These are troubled times. People want to feel safe. I can understand them. Back when I was powerless—well, more powerless than I am now—I also saw security in having them. Always kept one with me back then, but now I have spell balls, runestones, and a knight escort.”

‘Yeah, but the guns are a problem. Not for us, knights, and battlemages. But for ordinary people.’

It was one of the problems Gwen had warned him about. Though it wasn’t as if guns were being sold on every street corner like fried potato snacks, they were still quite accessible to most Arkhanian households should they have excess funds to invest in protecting themselves.

Though they weren’t a threat to the crown and its authority, Aizen had long banned rampant possession of such weapons since they were a potentially harmful element for other ordinary citizens. The kingdom understood that just giving people the option to enact violence could push a normally harmless person into doing something regrettable.

But that wasn’t the case here in Arkhan. And it was a problem just waiting to happen.

Limited food supply and questionable public order? Yeah, nobody was going to use their gun to steal from other people—said no one ever.

‘We could confiscate them, but that could also be seen as the kingdom oppressing them. Or preparing to.’

Knights could bully ordinary citizens with or without those citizens possessing firearms. But said citizens couldn’t quite understand that until they started actually getting bullied. Having a gun was power, and it made those who possessed one believe that such an item could protect them from all harm.

They were wrong, of course. It was just dangerous for them and everyone around them. The only thing a gun could harm at the moment were ordinary people and maybe a sleeping battlemage with a retarded spirit beast companion.

With the special agreement in place between Aizen and Argonia, no Ascendants were allowed in these lands barring special circumstances. And that meant it was impossible to keep an eye on every single inch of every single settlement at every single minute of every day. Crimes were going to get through, unlike in Aizen, where you could walk through a dark alley naked and come out the other end unmolested.

Eventually, somebody was going to shoot someone else in the face over something that could have been avoided.

‘What a pain in the fucking ass…’

Honestly, Reivan wanted to take the hardline approach of going ahead with the mass confiscation. Or maybe just announcing an order to surrender all weapons. It was a reasonable request, the way he saw it.

If they were going to eat out of the kingdom’s hands and depend on its protection, then they should submit to its authority. By doing so, the kingdom could protect them more easily and actually focus on making their lives a little better than it is.

Wasn’t that how Aizen had done it these past few millennia? It had worked, that was for sure. All authority belonged to the crown and all who lived under its shadow must surrender to its rule. Everyone born in the kingdom understood this and accepted it early on in life.

The problem was how differently Arkhanians were raised.

‘It’s all democracy’s fault, honestly.’

If they don’t like a politician, then they just vote for someone they do like in the next election. That was basically how most Arkhanians thought about the people who led them.

To them, voting was power. Power to choose, power over those above them, and power to decide what direction Arkhan went in. It made them feel as if they, individually, had more authority than they actually did—it made them defiant to authority.

That made them a little harder to govern without ruffling feathers. Some were always going to complain, the loud ones being particularly vocal.

‘Gwen warned me about a bunch of stuff, suggesting I think about it before I actually take office, but…’

It was hard though.

Honestly, Reivan wanted to be liked as a ruler, but he also understood that pandering would get them nowhere. And if that happened, he would be hated and disdained for being incompetent anyway.

He did try to think of ways to satisfy everyone, however. Such as improving the situation to the extent that nobody would feel the need to use their guns, for one thing. That would make the citizens happy and put a bandaid over the problem. And who knew if he couldn't just go through with the mass confiscation afterward by riding the momentum of his success?

“Elsa.” Rievan turned to her. “You're closer to the people here than I am. How is public opinion on the food situation? Are people hoarding or panicking about the possibility they’d run out?”

Though he wouldn’t have faulted her if she said she didn’t know, fortunately, it seemed she did.

With a nod, she spoke in hushed tones so the people they were passing couldn’t hear. They were already attracting enough attention as is, being so well-dressed and all that. “Merchants who coincidentally stocked up before everything happened. Markets are empty, save for some people betting on the chance to convert their money into something useful.”

“What about normal households? Middle class and whatnot.”

“They’re being frugal about it, of course. I think I heard some people rationing in anticipation of a shortage.”

“The lower class?”

“They’re pretty much dependent on relief aid. They were people who lived on their daily wage from the very beginning, so they never had a stockpile of anything. Using wages from yesterday, they'll buy what they need today—that's how they've been living. That isn't possible now, since anyone with a stock won't be selling. With the economic situation like this, employers aren’t calling these people in for work. And even if they did, workers wouldn't take money as payment in our current situation.”

“Fuck…”

Elsamina sighed. “Fuck, indeed. I have tried to remedy it by employing as much as I can in moving the supplies the kingdom sent, in exchange for some of the supplies themselves. That way, they won’t feel too pressured to feed their selves or their families."

Reivan squeezed her hand and gazed at her in admiration. “That was really good thinking.”

“Thanks. But it’s really not that big of a deal… We have the crown to thank for the relatively bright situation.” she said, before shaking her head. "But I can only employ so much, especially since our companies have never been understaffed in the first place. Most of our businesses have also lost relevance now, so I've relegated most of our employees to working as porters or managing the stock. Restaurants, tourist services, souvenirs... It's all closed now. But at least the volume of relief aid the kingdom sends is so large that Lageton’s in no danger of starving any time soon."

"But that’s not what people believe. No?”

Elsamina smiled sadly as she nodded. "I'm afraid that's the case, even though I've ordered our people to subtly assure the populace that Lageton is in no danger of starving."

“That’s certainly a problem…” Reivan thought about it for a bit, and came up with a makeshift solution. “Stop being subtle then. Just outright show off how many supplies remain undistributed.”

Elsa tilted her head. “Are you sure? Shouldn’t we keep that under wraps so people don’t feel tempted to sneak in and steal anything? It’ll also make them question why we aren’t just giving it out already. It's always like that during hard times. The weak think everyone above them is out to exploit them. If people have unanswered questions like that, they tend to get anxious that those above are—forgive my language—fucking them in the ass.”

He had to physically stop himself from laughing at her words by slapping his mouth, reminding himself how serious the discussion was. “It’s better than them panicking. Besides, knights and battlemages are guarding the warehouses. No ordinary gang of burglars can get through that. And if they question why we aren’t just giving it all out, just say it’s to make sure the food doesn’t go bad or something. Say that our warehouses have more regulated temperatures than anywhere else.”

“That’d be a lie though, wouldn't it? Is that how you want to start your reign?"

“Good point. But as the people demonstrated in this particular dilemma, the truth doesn’t matter. What matters is what they believe. Besides, it’s a harmless lie. They just need to keep quiet and let us help them. Securing their cooperation is vital for Lageton's recovery.”

Elsamina looked down in thought for a few moments before nodding. “Understood. I’ll get right to it.”

Sensing her complicated feelings, Reivan squeezed her hand again. “We’re going to help a lot of people Elsa. It’s just… We can’t help them if they don’t let us. We also can’t do it if they’re shooting each other and questioning every little thing we do because they can't trust anyone. For now, it is paramount that they stay quiet and behave until this tragedy passes. Then we can start trying to rebuild and get everyone back on their feet. Then we can start making things better.”

She looked up and met his gaze with a grin. “I get it. I was never against it in the first place. Did you think I was doubting you?”

With a shrug, he rolled his eyes. “Hey, I was just trying to set your mind at ease and eliminate any misgivings. Shouldn’t you thank me instead?”

“I suppose you’re right. Oh, dear me. Whatever shall I do to repay the prince’s grace? I have nothing on me at the moment.”

“Repay me? Hm, well…” Reivan grinned as greasily as he could as he pointedly gazed at her chest. “I can think of a few ways. Two, in fact. And they barely fit in my hands.”

"You fiend."

"Eh, isn't it your fault? Who told you to look so criminally beautiful?"

Once again, they shared a moment of happiness that was quickly dampened by the surrounding atmosphere. It was to the extent that they would have felt horrible if they laughed or talked too loudly while other people were bawling and tearing their throats out in the wake of their wailing.

It had been a short time, but Reivan felt as if he got a good glimpse into the underlying problem of the domain he would come to rule after his marriage.

And though he could think of possible solutions to each one, he was unsure if he could see it through.

════════════════════════════════

Once people started noticing the very well-dressed couple, Ouroboros executives who recognized Elsamina approached and led the two of them into a wooden stage that allowed them to look over the entire cemetery.

Amusingly, very few people knew who Reivan was and were quite surprised when Elsa introduced him as the real head of whatever decoy company she said she was running. Of course, if he wore his real face, everybody would no doubt recognize him on account of his silvery-white hair and golden irises.

He was somewhat afraid they’d take the opportunity to suck up, but they didn’t. Everybody offered greetings and retreated back into their own corners and cliques. Conversations were quiet and the mood was grim. It was clear that even the executives had lost some people. Whether they were acquaintances, lovers, or family, he didn’t know.

In respect, Reivan and Elsamina didn’t say a word while waiting for the burials to finish.

As he did, Reivan solemnly looked around. He watched the porters hauling corpses, the workers delivering carts full of cadavers before returning to get more, the mages carving names they were hearing for the first time onto stone headplates, and knights maintaining the temperature in an endeavor to provide some measure of comfort for the bereaved of another country.

Reivan observed and carved everything into his memory—that this was the price paid by others for the continued prosperity of his homeland.

And even if they loathed him for thinking so, he would still prefer this to the alternative of letting the Sage King complete whatever plans he had, potentially endangering the kingdom’s sovereignty. If he went back in time to the moment he helped set the war into motion, he would do it again.

He would create this scene again without hesitation.

It was with a hint of guilt that Reivan desired to help these people rise up again. And maybe, if they cooperated, he could aid them in rising even higher—in becoming a civilization as peaceful and secure as the home he'd found in his second life.

With those thoughts in his heart, the burials finished and the funeral rites began.

Arkhan didn’t have a religion and actually prevented its proliferation because of historical events. But death was present in all societies across the various planes, as such, ceremonies to see off the dead were always going to pop up somehow.

There was an emcee of sorts, and he stepped front and center stage before saying a few words about how the deceased would always be remembered. Then he took out a bottle of wine and nearly emptied it on the soil below before drinking the rest.

Some people in the crowd took out their own bottles or small flasks, doing the same thing for their beloved. There were even people who shared what little they had with others who didn’t bring wine of their own.

Alcohol was an integral part of Arkhanian culture. It warmed one’s insides and fought off the perpetual cold. To them, pouring one last drink for the dead meant a solemn wish for the deceased to keep warm on their way to oblivion.

The chilling winds they had always known were gone now and nobody knew if they would ever return. But the dead still needed to be sent off. And the people only knew one way to do it.

“Here.” Reivan took out two bottles of wine and handed one to Elsa before emptying the remaining bottle on stage. These were probably quite pricey, even for a particularly wealthy citizen of Aizen. But he couldn't care enough to check, nor did he care if he was right.

He had lost nobody. In fact, he did the things that he did because he didn’t want to lose anybody even at the cost of other people’s suffering.

Maybe he didn’t have the right to pay respects. Perhaps his current actions angered the dead enough for them to lay a curse on him or something.

But for him, it was fine if they got angry. He was prepared to accept that much, at least.

Once all the wine was gone and only empty bottles or flasks remained, the funeral rite for hundreds of people ended just like that. Not for most of the people though, since the wounds caused by the deaths of their loved ones were cuts that wouldn’t heal today. Or any time soon.

Most remained even after the upturned soil settled, and maybe they would stay long after that. Perhaps some of the people here today would never truly leave, becoming entirely different people when they passed through that stone archway again.

Maybe Reivan was one of them.

As he closed his eyes to offer a silent prayer for these people he didn't know, he knew that it would be hard to forget this day.

Arc#5 Chapter 8: Responsibility

While Reivan's little surprise was a success, he, unfortunately, got kicked out because Elsamina was too embarrassed. The transparency of her clothes was one thing, but she was apparently too soaked with sweat so her reaction wasn't very strange.

'She's been covered in sweat and something else when we really got into it, so I don't see why she needs to be so shy.'

Maybe it had something to do with the cause of the sweat. There was no reason for her to be bashful if he was the reason she was all sweaty, and she'd proven numerous times that she didn't mind. So the only thing different in this case was that the sweat came from how obscenely hot it was.

Of course, before she kicked him out, the redheaded bombshell hugged and rained kisses down on him out of relief for his safety. Apparently, even if she was told that he was perfectly fine, seeing him really cemented the fact and removed all doubts. It was hard to be sure in these trying times, so cold hard proof like this was the best way to set one's mind at ease.

Since he needed some time to calm down too, so he quietly waited for her in one of the mansion's rooms—the master room that Elsamina seemed to sleep in, to be exact. She was getting dressed in an adjacent chamber that housed the majority of her wardrobe and presumably some very large mirrors. Just with a cursory glance around the bedroom, he could see the signs of having been lived in—like the set of cosmetics on a nearby vanity that had yet to be put away or some discarded documents.

The large tubs filled with what he assumed was melted ice placed in the four corners of the room were a new addition, however.

'I suppose temperature-neutralizing artifacts aren't quite enough for this level of discomfort.'

One of the knights guarding her must have had the ice attribute, thankfully. And judging by some of the heat that seemed to constantly get sifted out along with any humidity, it seemed there were fire and water elementalists nearby as well. All of that meant that the master bedroom was probably one of the most comfortable spots in Lageton at the moment.

In any case, it didn't take long for Elsamina to reenter, seemingly having freshened herself up and gotten fully dressed.

Well, it was a bit of a stretch to say that she was fully dressed because she was only wearing a somewhat transparent negligee. It was a striking green, complimenting her beautiful white skin and the luxurious mane of crimson hair flowing down her back in waves. Her incredible figure was out on full display for his eyes only and he couldn't help but salivate a little at the sight, though he managed not to let her notice.

"Goodness, you're not hiding your intentions at all," he remarked with amusement. "If I didn't know any better, you brought me here just to toy with my body."

Elsamina sat beside him, a smirk gracing her face as her green eyes searched for his. "It seems I've been exposed. You've deduced it correctly. I did, in fact, bring you here to toy with your body. Give up now, for there is nothing you can do."

"You animal!" Reivan slowly let himself fall to the bed. "I am powerless to stop you. Go on then. Do your worst! You may have my body, but not my dignity!"

"Alright, alright." She leaned over him and smooshed his cheeks with one hand, causing him to pucker. "Enough fooling around. I actually prefer being the one who's attacked, so..."

Reivan did not need to be told twice, being quite smart when it came to things of this nature. He proceeded to push her down, his loins stirring when she squealed in pleasant surprise. It was almost like a moan, and boy was she good at those. There was a feedback loop whenever they jumped into bed together. She'd turn him on, then he'd try to make her feel good, and then she'd moan—thereby turning him on even more and starting the cycle anew.

To him, this was the circle of life. A truly beautiful circle. The best kind of circle.

"Sorry. I should probably say something witty now, but I'm a little too entranced to come up with anything."

After saying that, Reivan couldn't help but lean down a little and steal a kiss. Well, it wasn't really stealing since he saw how she closed her eyes just in time, as if she was expecting it.

Once they parted, she licked her lips and hooked an arm around his head to stop him from backing away too far. And with a tug, she pulled him close for another one.

At that point, there was no stopping them.

════════════════════════════════

By the time they'd had enough of their fun, a significant portion of the day had already passed. The sky outside the window had turned orange and they were starting to get hungry since the only thing they ate for lunch was each other and a few croissants he kept in his ring—the former need not be mentioned, but the latter's filling was a tad too sweet for him.

They had both taken a shot of aphrodisiac and she even asked for some stamina medicine to keep up with his vigor. Naturally, Reivan didn't let her do it alone, purposely dosing himself with a more concentrated version through [Effect Reproduction].

Because of that, the bed was somewhat of a mess. As were their clothes and bodies. So they both opted to take a bath first before moving to catch up in another room.

Naturally, something happened during the bath that would require them to bathe again, but there was no problem with that.

"Are you trying something new?" Reivan asked from his spot on a nearby sofa as he watched her get dressed. She noticeably used a lot more cosmetics than he remembered, but they weren't enough to warrant confusion. What really boggled him was her choice of clothing. "Are you going to a funeral? Ah, but you look good in them, of course."

"Do I really?" Elsamina got up from her seat in front of the vanity and did a little spin for him. "It's not too alluring, is it?"

'Are you kidding, anything's alluring if you wear it.'

Yet the dress she wore was already alluring enough on its own.

A black sleeveless one-piece dress that reached her knees, with long lace gloves that obscured everything from just above her elbows to the tips of her fingers. Nobody but him would know, but she wore a garter belt to hold up the lace stockings covering her legs. To top it all off, she wore a black hat with a wide rim and a green feather adorning it, a pair of obsidian heels, and various jewelry that served to magnify her beauty.

She looked amazing. Fantastic, even.

'Hm. So this is why men gifted women with jewelry...'

Reivan felt slightly enlightened. Initially, he thought that the reason was because the men wanted to get laid, but that may not have been the end of it. It was far deeper than he could have predicted.

"Ken." Elsamina pinched his cheek. "You're staring too much. And you aren't even answering."

"Ah. Right. Sorry." Hearing his old name snapped him out of the mental jungle in his head. "Were you really planning to go to a funeral?"

"That's right."

"For Ouroboros employees or...?

She shook her head. "No casualties among any of our people. It's a good thing that because of Arkhan's usual climate, we gave out temperature-neutralizing artifacts to all our workers so they all made it through. Unfortunately, we didn't have an unlimited number of artifacts to give out to everyone's families too. So some of them lost their loved ones. To save time and effort, we're also including the rest of the victims who aren't necessarily affiliated with us."

"Oh..." Reivan unconsciously clenched his fist as he tried to maintain an even expression. "I'll come too... But is that's okay?"

Elsamina's eyes met his and she smiled a little wider. "Of course. I'd actually prefer having you as an escort instead of the usual procession. Don't get me wrong, they're dependable. But they're not very talkative."

"Alright. Luckily, I like black clothes so I'll undoubtedly have something to wear... Oh, wait a minute." He didn't need to check his pocket watch to know how late it was in the day, given how he'd spent the majority of it rolling around in bed with Elsa. The orange light coming from outside was a telling fact too. "Is the funeral happening at night? Why?"

"The heat makes it hard to preserve corpses unless a person dedicated to cooling a place down is assigned. And we don't have a lot of those. Because of that, we're rushing to deal with the corpses. We can't even wait to inform kin who live in other cities... mainly because we couldn't be sure if those people were dead too. Looking for them in this situation isn't very practical either."

Reivan somberly nodded. "That makes sense..."

"Additionally," Elsa raised a finger. "Corpses that have somewhat rotten aren't exactly pretty to look at. Doing it at night will make it hard for people to get a good look."

"I didn't consider that, but it makes sense now that I think about it." He crossed his legs and poured himself a cup of wine from a nearby carafe. It was of Arkhanian make, he mused. And this might even be the last time he'd taste it. "How are the bodies going to be dealt with? Cremation?"

She sat down in front of the vanity again and seemed to be contemplating which earrings she would wear as she talked to him. "That would have been the plan, but we didn't think it'd be a good idea to burn the corpses of people who died due to heat."

"Oh, I can see the logic in that..." Reivan sipped at his drink in contemplation. "What about letting them float away into the sea? In rafts, I mean? All the leaves dried off, but there are still some trees in the area, no?"

Elsamina's brows shot up in surprise. And he couldn't blame her because what he just suggested was a primitive funeral ceremony from Earth.

After seemingly thinking about it, Elsamina shook her head. "I haven't heard of that method yet, but I don't think it's a good idea either. The seawater close to the majority of the southern shores is contaminated with ash at the moment. But the bodies could get eaten by sea monsters... or worse, attract them."

'Whoops. Didn't think of that either. Guess a different world really is different. In a lot of ways.'

"Then what?" Reivan tilted his head. "Bury them outside the city? I'm assuming there's a lot so it'll be a monumental task. I could help, of course."

"Some battlemages have volunteered," she said with a smile as she replaced her earring with one made of a big pearl, examining her reflection to see if it looked good enough. "A few of the knights volunteered as well. In fact, they've already made numerous individual pits with stone coffins at the bottom."

"I see. That was nice of them." he smiled, internally praising his nation's prided warriors.

"Right? The kingdom really stepped up. They're even having us distribute relief supplies to the citizens, though they're making it really obvious that they intend to take over Lageton..."

Reivan cleared his throat. "On that note... How are the people reacting? To Aizen pretty much taking charge here, I mean."

Elsamina hummed in thought for a heartbeat before shrugging. "People aren't dumb, Ken. They know that the kingdom is the only choice they have. From the look of things, they intend to do it peacefully, putting forward intentions of holding an election. But nobody in their right mind is going to step up to govern a place that's so close to getting wiped out. To the people of Lageton, it doesn't even matter who the kingdom sends as a candidate, be it the king's cousin's husband's brother, or some other nobody. No sane person is going to run against the kingdom in an election. Not when the country's like this. Even I would hesitate."

'So it's as we predicted.'

For everyone but Argonia and Aizen, the lands of the former Arkhan were hot potatoes. Each and every single city. Only a large country had the resources to help what used to be the republic recover to mildly liveable conditions.

Reivan emptied his wine glass and got up, walking up to Elsamina's back and helping her set her hair. He'd gotten quite good at it from helping Helen every day, though he probably shouldn't volunteer that information. Growing up with little sisters two times also gave him plenty of reason to gain proficiency at the art.

"Thanks." Elsa smiled widely up at him before picking out a different necklace instead. There were plenty, and he remembered most of them coming from him. "By the way, I didn't get to ask because I was a bit too excited to see you. But what brought you here?"

"A bit? It was a lot more than just a bit, no? Our lips were glued together for hours and I'm quite sure my balls are utterly empty. Not that I'm complaining, of course. But saying it's a little bit is an understatement."

"Oh, be quiet and answer the question," she rolled her eyes but grinned smugly—probably proud of how good he'd obviously felt throughout the entire session.

It was very easy to measure how good a man felt during the deed, after all. The volume of the load was different for everyone, he assumed, but the number of shots one fired was a metric that could easily be understood.

"I heard you'd be busy until the end of the month," she continued, snapping him out of his idle thoughts. "I didn't think you'd arrive until then."

Reivan momentarily wondered who she heard that from, but shrugged because it didn't matter. He leaned down and gave the crown of her heard a peck, getting a whiff of her fragrant hair. "You're here. Why wouldn't I want to come?"

"There you go again with your double meanings... And you know you don't need to flatter me anymore. My heart is already filled with you."

"Your heart isn't the only thing I filled..."

"Scoundrel. My fiance's an irredeemably lecherous scoundrel." Elsamina giggled, bumping his stomach with the back of her head. "Woe is me. It seems I'm going to be defiled over and over after the wedding."

"Oh, you know it." Reivan playfully smirked like an evil villain, wriggling his fingers as he reached down for her breasts. "You'd better be ready!"

She slapped his hands away. "You'll wrinkle my dress. And you haven't answered my question."

Reivan slapped his hand and pouted like a kicked dog. "But I said it was because I wanted to see you..."

"That is likely one of the reasons, but what are the others?"

Groaning, Reivan finally sighed with a nod. "I came to talk about a few things."

"I've kept communication channels open, so shouldn't you have been perfectly capable of sending messages through the relay?"

"I felt that the topic had to be discussed personally."

Through the mirror’s reflection, he saw Elsamina raise a brow as she held up a silver necklace with an embedded ruby as big as his pinky. It had also been something he’d gifted her a year or two ago, though he couldn’t remember what the occasion had been. Honestly, he could have gifted it to her for no particular reason.

He did that a lot, now that he thought about it.

After a few moments of silence passed, Elsa finally spoke, though her voice was somewhat muted. "Good news, I hope. Or is it bad news? Have you perhaps realized that you want to break our engagement...?"

"What? No, no, no. It's definitely not that, Elsa." Reivan let go of the hair he was braiding and hugged her from behind. “I’m not letting anything stop that. Not even the Sage King coming back from the dead will separate us.”

“That’s too much,” Elsa giggled and her mood returned to normal. “Then what'd you want to talk to me about?”

“Well…” Reivan licked his lips in hesitation. He was about to tell her his true identity. And it was now or never, since he didn’t want to delay it any longer.

One thing was certain, he didn’t want to experience the trope where he kept holding on to the secret and some big event popped up that separated them for a long time. Then he’d only get to tell her after the climax of the arc.

Today was an ordinary day. And that made it perfect. He didn’t want fanfare to accompany his big reveal.

‘Besides, I’ve already hinted that the face I’m using isn’t my real face from the very start…’

Now was just the time to show her the real him. That was all. She was about to get married to him and benefit from the protection of the royal family, so there was no longer any risk to her knowing who he really was.

At the very back of his mind, however, he was afraid she’d break things off with him if she knew who he really was. It was a baseless fear, he knew. But it gnawed at him nonetheless.

“What is it, Ken?” Elsa looked up at him innocently, her smile setting his heart at ease. “Tell me. I’ll listen.”

‘That’s… That’s right. What am I so worried about? It’s not like she fell in love with my face, right?’

Or was it? Well, it may have been a factor, but his real face didn’t look too bad either so it should be fine, no? Oh, but what if his “Ken” face was her type but his “Reivan” face just wasn’t? That would be disastrous.

Suddenly, Reivan found himself getting cold feet. But he pushed through anyway. Surely, their relationship was stronger than that. It wouldn’t end just because of something like disliking the other’s face. At this point, he wouldn't break things off with her even if half her face melted off and she looked like an unmasked Two-Face.

Worst case scenario, he could just transform while she was with her.

“You know how this face isn’t my real one, right?” Reivan nervously resumed braiding her soft red locks. “You still remember that?”

“I did, though it’s been a while since we’ve addressed it.”

“Yeah… Well, I’ve been thinking. And I think it’s about time that I took the disguise off… We’re getting married within the year, after all.”

It would be a bit much to marry both Helen and Elsa at the same time or in quick succession, but half a year seemed like a respectable amount of time. In the past, he’d thought about waiting a whole year, but he didn’t think he was patient enough to wait that long anymore.

Half a year was his max. If he had to wait even longer, he’d much rather force it through, public opinion be damned. He could just sneak Elsa into the Sun God’s main church and ask Saintess Frey to officiate.

The likelihood of him having to resort to that was low, but he was ready to do it.

Naturally, he’d have done it for Helen too, but the national-level support their union was receiving made his resolve irrelevant. In fact, everyone was rushing them at this point. Not that he minded, of course.

“I see…” Elsamina put down the jewelry she’d been holding up to her neck and gazed into his eyes through the mirror. “So it’s finally time for you to tell me that you’re Reivan Aizenwald, huh?”

“That’s right. Now, I know it’s a little hard to take in, but—”

Suddenly, Reivan stopped himself from talking and tried to think back to what she’d just said. He thought he’d heard wrong for a moment, but the surprisingly impish grin on the usually mature Elsa’s lips made him think otherwise.

“Did you just—” he started, but was interrupted.

“Did I just say that you’re Reivan Aizenwald, second prince of the Aizen Kingdom?” Elsamina finished for him, covering her giggling mouth. “Yes. I believe I did.”

Reivan’s head was left spinning in confusion after he just got the rug pulled from under him. “H-How did you… Wait, did someone tell you? No, that can’t be it…”

“That’s not it.” She stood up to turn around, grabbing both of his hands as they faced each other. “I found out on my own.”

“On your own…? How?”

“Well, you know how you mentioned using some really advanced illusion artifact that doesn’t wear off even if someone touches you?”

Reivan nodded.

Elsamina then reached up and ruffled his hair. “Well, it stops affecting any of the hair that falls off. And I found a silver one after some particularly rough lovemaking.”

“Th-that’s…” Reivan’s jaw slackened as he thought about it. “That surely isn’t enough of a reason to assume it was me…?”

“Extremely strong at a young age. Access to intricate artifacts not available even to Aizen's bourgeoise.” Elsa began listing off some very incriminating facts that, in hindsight, made it very obvious who he was. “Our entire enterprise receiving preferential treatment in the kingdom’s market—”

“Okay, okay. Stop.” He held up a hand and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I get it. I understand it now.”

She didn’t stop though. “Besides, you assigned a lot of powerful female guards with hyper-militaristic discipline to me like it was nothing. And there are very few ways for a woman to get that powerful. Knighthood stood out the most because the order accepts any citizen who’s willing to swear loyalty to the crown.”

“Son of a…” Reivan licked his lower lip, realizing that he hadn’t exactly been subtle with his power abuse. “You’re right.”

“Well, I appreciate it since I can really feel how much you think about my safety…”

“Of course, I do.”

Elsamina giggled, wrapping her arms around him and standing on tiptoes to give him a peck on the lips. “I’m happy that you finally decided to tell me yourself though.”

Reivan returned her hug, not particularly amused by her antics. “You didn’t let me tell you myself.”

“I got a bit too excited.” she stuck her tongue out playfully.

Seeing her smile like the child she never got to be, Reivan’s heart sank in a way it had never done.

‘Holy fuck. I love this woman. And I’m going to marry her too.’

It wasn’t some sudden discovery. But at this very moment, he, oddly enough, didn’t feel happy. His heart was instead filled with an emotion he couldn’t quite describe.

Very soon, this woman who he loved so much was going to be his responsibility. Not just her safety, but her happiness and the welfare of their children too.

He’d felt the same pressure with Helen at the start before his childhood friend set the record straight between them. But Elsamina was different.

Helen was… well, Helen. She was extremely self-sufficient. You could leave her alone somewhere and she’d probably still be there when you returned, unharmed and unfazed. His first wife was the pinnacle of talent and someone who was going to get stronger than him eventually. Sure, he was going to try to keep up. But he might fail. And it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing if he did because that would mean that Helen was just that good.

At the back of his mind, Reivan knew that he didn’t need to worry about her that much. He still would, but there was a confidence within him that she would somehow get through most situations.

Elsamina was different. Sure, she was self-sufficient in her own right. It wasn’t as if she was some useless damsel whose only redeeming quality was being pretty.

But she was weak.

In a world where violence was a possible answer to every problem as long as you had enough of it, Elsamina was very very poor.

And that made her someone to protect in Reivan’s eyes. Someone that he had to protect.

Someone he wanted to protect.

Reivan looked at the woman lovingly looking up at him and felt the weight of her life on his shoulders. It had always been there, but this moment was what made him notice just how heavy it was and how he wanted it to be there.

“I love you, Elsa.” he blurted out, but the moment the words came out on their own he chose to double down. “Please marry me.”

Elsa’s arms around him tightened and her smile widened. “I love you too, but don’t you think you ask me to marry you too much?”

“...Do I?”

“This must be the tenth time already.”

“That much? Damn.” Reivan chuckled. “And I wanted this to be a special moment too.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Elsa giggled along with him. “I like the boring and repetitive moments too.”

“Ouch. Boring and repetitive…?”

“Oh, you know that’s not what I meant. Stop being such a baby.”

“I’ll show you who’s a baby.” Reivan grinned ferally and grabbed big handfuls of her ass.

“W-wait, we shouldn't do this… I just finished getting ready.”

Slightly annoyed, Reivan let her go. She was right, after all. He couldn’t inconvenience her by ruining hours of preparation just because he felt emotional.

“Oh, what am I going to do with you…” Elsa sighed in affectionate exasperation, probably noticing his frustration. With a troubled smile, she took him by the hand. “Come, sit over here.”

Confused, Reivan allowed himself to be led into the seat Elsamina had just been occupying in front of the vanity. Then Elsa, the goddess of kindness that she was, knelt down in front of him and grabbed him by the belt.

“Well, if I do it like this, I’ll only have to reapply it to my lips… Be satisfied with this, okay?”

“Uh, you don’t have to, really…”

“Shush.”

Elsa seductively licked her lip.

“Don’t think you’re the only one in the mood after all that.”

════════════════════════════════

After having his soul sucked out of him through his second head, Reivan accompanied Elsamina to the outskirts of Lageton.

Usually, Elsa had an entire guard detail of female knights, but since Reivan was present, there were only two with them. One was driving the magitech carriage they were taking to their destination while the other followed them from the shadows.

On their way there, Reivan gave Elsamina a brief rundown of what the kingdom intended for Lageton and a few facts about how the republic turned out this way. He basically treated her as part of his household now, so she had every right to know.

That had the undesirable side-effect of her knowing that the kingdom was partly to blame for the disaster Arkhan was suffering though.

At the back of his mind, however, Reivan only accepted blame for the Sage King’s death and was partly responsible for the government’s collapse. The heatwave was caused by that elf while Argonia was the one who hunted down silver cloaks shortly after Antonnel’s death. Sir Rolf also didn’t cause any collateral damage.

Still, none of it would have happened if Aizen left Arkhan alone, allowing it to potentially gain enough power to dominate the continent.

The kingdom did what it had to. And though it was an undesirable result, the people of Arkhan suffered for it.

“Are you disillusioned by us?” Reivan asked her, their arms linked as they got shaken around in the damned death cart of a magitech carriage.

To his surprise, Elsamina shook her head. “If I was in the kingdom’s position, I would have done the same thing. The royal family has taken care of the kingdom for thousands of years—if I were in their shoes, I wouldn't allow any risks of it being destroyed.”

“I see…”

“And besides.” She smiled sadly. “The strong do as they will, while the weak suffer what they must. That’s just the truth of the world. Aizen simply did what it had to so it could remain as one of the strong. For the people, am I right?”

Reivan bit his lip as his grip on her hand tightened a little. “You’re right.”

“I expect the same level of dedication for any kids we have.”

“Uh.” Reivan’s brows shot up, dumbfounded by the sudden statement. But he vigorously nodded after a heartbeat. “Of course. You can count on me.”

Elsamina reached up to pinch his cheek. “That’s my boy.”

“...I’m an adult.”

“Do you think I, of all people, don’t know that?”

She giggled, and the tiny bit of annoyance he felt at being treated like a kid melted away. In exchange, he felt like he wanted to express his affection in some way.

By now, he’d already realized that his favorite ways of showing love were intimate physical contact and gifts. But since they’d just had a bunch of the former, he tried the latter instead.

That was when he realized that he did have a gift for her. One that he’d intended to give her in person for a long time now.

“Elsa, look here.” Reivan pulled out an amethyst orb and showed it to her.

She had her eyes closed though, basking in the moment. His usual antics made her think he was trying to show her something else though. “Honey, I told you that we should wait until after the funeral, right? Don’t think showing me your thing is going to change that.”

“It’s not tha—C’mon, just look. it’s not my dick!”

Finally, she opened her eyes and made a little noise of surprise when her gaze fell on the purple ball in his palm. “It’s pretty. Is this another gift? You already know I’m starting to run out of places to put them… I’m still thankful though. How do you even wear this? Or is it a decoration?”

Reivan shook his head and held it up to her face. “No, it’s not a jewel. Well, maybe it is. I don’t know. But look closer. Right there, something’s inside.”

Elsa seemed a bit skeptical but followed along anyway. She kept one eye closed as she peered into the orb, jerking back when she realized there was something moving within. “Is that some kind of illusion? There’s a tiny lion inside.”

“It’s a spirit beast.” He smiled as he placed it on her hand. “A powerful one. I got it for you way back before the republic got messed up.”

“A spirit beast…?”

“Yup. There’s a spell that you need to do to form a temporary contract that can become permanent if it likes you. But don’t worry about that part, because I have my ways.”

“Wow…” Elsamina cupped the orb with both hands and watched the miniature adult lion with a mane of flame-like hair look up at her curiously. “This is amazing… But do I really need more guards?”

“No, uh…” Reivan arranged the words in his head first so she would understand it easier. “So you see, there’s a way for people to extend their lifespan or even reach Ascendance with the help of spirit beasts. A knight that I know and respect did it that way too, until they Ascended on their own anyway.”

Realizing his intentions, her eyes widened. “Honey… This is…”

“You’ll receive it, right?” Reivan leaned forward and rested his chin on her shoulder, trying very hard to look cute but probably seeming like an idiot instead. “Surely, you won’t say no to my gift.”

“H-How could I refuse at this point…? It must have been hard for you to get this.”

“Nah, it was easy. Don’t worry about it.”

═══════════════

{ [Essence of Falsehood] has activated! }

═══════════════

Reivan knew that he could have probably scored some points with her if she knew the things he had to go through and the risks he took, but that couldn’t outweigh the guilt she would feel.

Some people would argue that lying, even when it was for the person’s own good, was wrong no matter how you put it. But Reivan’s opinion was that those people could shove their opinion up their asses. Because in his experience, the truth didn’t set him free—it doubled the burden and gave it to the next person.

There were times when a simple lie would lead everyone involved to happiness.

Besides, did he really need more points with her? She was obviously utterly in love with him. Maybe just as much as he loved her.

‘Eh, she might find out anyway. One day. But not today.’

“Liar…” Elsamina surprisingly didn’t believe him, making all of his considerations pointless. “There’s no way it was easy. The Tower had a monopoly on spirit beasts for so long, you know? Nobody outside of it could even fathom how they did it.”

[Essence of Falsehood] only made his lies more believable. But it seemed in this case, Elsamina was a bit too informed about things to be deceived. His little lie was apparently absurd in her eyes.

Slightly embarrassed at his epic failure, Reivan cleared his throat. “I said don’t worry about it. Aren’t I alive?”

“But it was dangerous, right?”

“I’m a prince, so I had my own set of failsafes.”

“Failsafes can fail.”

“Elsa.”

Reivan cut her off, brushing a tuft of her hair behind her ear. “You better get used to me doing things for you. Because I would do so much more.”

“I…” Elsamina was about to say something but averted her gaze instead, exposing the side of her face and the red tip of her ear.

‘Adorable.’

“And if you haven’t already noticed, I actually like being around you.” Amused, he hooked her chin and turned her face back toward him. “So I’d obviously want you around forever. Countries can rise and fall. Seas dry up and mountains can vanish. But even then, I want us to be by my side through it all.”

At this point, the blush had bled into her face and she couldn’t help but physically push his face away. “Y-You say that, but I’m still the second wife.”

“Urk!”

Reivan groaned. He really couldn’t say anything to that. It was true, after all. And there was no way around it. What’s worse was how he wouldn’t push Helen away even if Elsa begged him to. Of course, the opposite was true as well.

He literally had no rebuttal.

Naturally, he’d thought about what to say when this exact situation came up, but even he wasn’t that confident in its legitimacy. “I swear I’ll love you both equally…”

Elsa edged to the other end of the carriage, putting distance between them. “How can I trust the words of a womanizer? Hmph.”

Even though he could sense that she was just joking around, he still couldn’t help but get cut by her words. He really had no way to deny such allegations. She didn’t even know about Mira yet. Good lord, he really hoped that when she found out, Elsa wouldn’t be exasperated to the extent of divorcing him.

His silence must have clued her in that he was admitting defeat in this little verbal spar of theirs, so she turned back to him after regaining her calm. “Don’t feel too bad about it. I’m happy enough as it is to be an official wife instead of a concubine… My past needs no mentioning.”

“Elsa—”

“I know, I know.” She waved her hand dismissively as she scooted closer to him. “It was never my fault and you don’t mind. You’ve said it many times. But still, I’m thankful that I’m getting more than I deserve. Thank you… for loving someone like me.”

Reivan grabbed her hand and squeezed a little hard so his sentiments would come through. Feeling as if he didn’t really like the subject, however, he shifted the conversation elsewhere. “Anyway, I’ll be getting married to Helen first…”

“Yes, I heard. The nation’s apparently abuzz. Aizen’s citizens aren’t even paying attention to the things happening over here.”

“Yeah…”

‘Part of the reason why my marriage is getting rushed is to divert public attention, after all.’

Really, it was just a minor reason. Just an instance of the stars aligning. It’s not as if the crown wouldn’t have had the Sage King killed if the public protested about it. This was a matter of national interest, after all. The stakes were so high that very few things mattered in comparison.

The hubbub over his wedding just helped things go smoother.

Everyone loved a good wedding, after all. There weren’t a lot of royals in recent decades, so it didn’t happen that often. Besides, wasn’t it better to prefer nearby celebrations instead of mourning tragedies across the border? Not to mention how revered the Aizenwald royal family was by the kingdom’s people.

His wedding was a joyous occasion that would simultaneously prevent the general public in Aizen from fixating on the republic's situation for a while.

“So…” Reivan licked his lip in hesitation for a moment before forcing out the words. “Helen was wondering if you wanted to come…”

“She did?” Elsamina’s brows shot up in what was clearly genuine astonishment. “We don’t meet often, but I didn’t get the impression that she liked me very much.”

“She, uh, doesn’t. Actually. Oh, but she doesn’t hate you.”

“Understandable. I don’t hate her either, but I can’t really like her much… Though I did plan to at least try getting along with her when we started seeing each other more.”

Elsamina hummed in contemplation for a few heartbeats before she nodded.

“Right. I don’t think I’ll go.” 

Reivan frowned. “You won’t?”

“Yes. I don’t know how I’ll feel if I watch someone else get married to you—even if I'm still not used to considering your real self as my beloved. And the bride probably won’t be all that happy to see me either. Also, it’ll spoil the experience for when we get married. I’ll always compare it to hers.”

“I-I see… Alright. I’ll tell her you were busy...”

“Please do. Oh, but thank her for the invitation. It means a lot to me that she’s willing to go at least that far. Makes me think that we really can keep things civil.”

Her frank words made sense to him and made him realize that perhaps having a harem wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Was he going to be okay? He wasn’t sure now.

“Worried?” Elsamina pinched his cheek again. She must have noticed his inner conflict due to his grimace. “Don’t worry too much. I know my place as the second wife. It’s a bit sad though…”

“Elsa…”

“Oh, but if our husband pays enough attention to me, maybe I won’t feel as sad about my inferior position?”

Seeing her impish grin, Reivan couldn’t help but feel as if he’d stumbled into another trap. But at this point, he may as well jump in. “Noted. I’ll be sure to give my poor second wife lots of love.”

Elsamina giggled and pinched his nose this time, giving it a little shake. “I’m counting on you… Reivan.”

A moment after saying his name, however, she grimaced.

“That’s gonna take some getting used to…” she muttered to herself before turning to him. “I hope you understand, but for years, the face I imagined whenever I get lonely is the one you’re wearing right now. Not the prince’s.”

Reivan nodded helplessly, a bit conflicted. On one hand, he was sad that he’d still need to keep his disguise for a while until she adjusted. And on the other hand, he was happy that she loved him to such an extent that it was hard for her to adjust.

“Once in a while…” Elsa quietly squeezed his hand, the orb in her other. “Let’s do it while you're using your real face.”

“Alright." he chuckled sheepishly. "Please take care of me, then.”

“Please take care of me too," she said before leaning in close and whispering into his ear. "Forever.”

Reivan couldn’t help but smile at that, causing her to mirror the joy on his face. Then she pecked him on the cheek before resting her head on his shoulder.

‘You can count on me.’

Arc#5 Chapter 7: Climate Change

"Are you sure it's okay?" Reivan raised a brow as he looked at the blonde beauty beside him. "If you're coming just so I'm not alone, you don't have to worry. Zee's always there and I didn't give Dom any spirit dew today, since I wanted him awake just in case."

Gwendolyn shook her head impassively. "There are no issues, Your Highness. It was about time for me to check in on what's happening over in Lageton anyway."

"If you say so, then alright. Let's go."

Not really having any qualms with Gwen accompanying him on his trip to the republic, Reivan led the way through the palace.

To make things more convenient for him—who was going to be commuting from the royal palace and Lageton—a teleportation gate had been set up in one of the palace's underground chambers. With the plans to make him the "ruler" of a puppet state, said teleportation gate was obviously set to be erected in his palace.

'Right. I'm going to have a palace of my own...'

Once his brother's children grew up, Reivan planned to move out of the palace and live in a mansion somewhere. He had enough money for it because of the "allowance" he saved up from being a literal prince,and because he got a fairly big cut of whatever Ouroboros earned. A mansion or two was chump change, so this wasn't much of an issue. Besides, with Zouros in tow, he could fly to the palace and visit his relatives any time he wanted.

Now, those plans were somewhat irrelevant because he was getting a palace of his own. It wasn't in Aizen though, but a palace was a palace. Hell, the engineers working on it were responsible for the maintenance of the royal palace in Aizen, so his palace would probably have plenty of similarities.

It was also preemptively being made to have a very expansive rear area to house all of the concubines he was slated to have and the children he would undoubtedly father.

'There's no way I'm letting them stay in Lageton though. It'd make it far too easy for imperial assassins to get at them with how many there are. And besides...'

Even with his new palace, Reivan still had a bunch of mansions constructed in various locations around the kingdom. He would have his concubines live there, preferably close to the concubine's hometown. With their sheer number, it was virtually impossible to spend a lot of time with any of them so he wanted them to at least be somewhere familiar.

Also, he didn't think it was a good idea to keep that many women—who may or may not come to foster romantic feelings for him—together in one place, so separating them seemed like a wise decision. He had read his fair share of cultivation novels and knew just how dirty conflicts between women could become.

'Ah, I'm getting way over my head.'

It was a problem for his future self, but Reivan didn't think it was a bad idea to prepare.

His eventual relationship problems aside, teleportation gates were going to be a big part of his lifestyle from now on. The way things worked with Aizen's teleportation gates, each one could connect with any of the others. So he could install one in every location relevant to him and reach it in no time at all. That would allow him the leeway to juggle his relationships and his official duties.

They were a bit costly in terms of energy, but worst case scenario, he'd personally spend some time near the Outland portal to hunt for crystals.

'Oh, we're here.'

Reivan snapped out of his idle musings when he realized that they were already standing before one of the teleportation gates within the royal palace.

As a gate connecting a relatively less secure area to the heart of the kingdom, Ascendants were naturally guarding the gate. Four of them, to be exact. Since they were in full armor, he couldn't quite tell if they were male or female without using [Supreme Insight], but either way, they all looked very dependable standing there like metal statues.

"Don't mind us. We're just passing through." Reivan smiled and gestured for them not to make a fuss, then nodded toward a knight to the side, who moved to activate the circular gate. Once the swirling spatial fluctuations within the ring seemed to stabilize, Reivan turned to Gwen and cleared his throat. "Ladies first."

Gwen nodded before saluting to the knights in the room. Just before she stepped toward the gate, however, she turned to Reivan as if she'd just remembered something. "Your Highness, please remember to turn on your temperature-neutralizing artifact before stepping through."

"Of course. I won't forget, but is it really that bad? You know I can cool myself down, right? And my body's strong enough to shrug off heat anyway."

"Even so. Please."

Seeing how serious she was about it, Reivan made a show of turning it on in front of her. The artifact in question was a cloak with a jeweled ornament to pin it to the body. As for its effect, it neutralized temperatures that went too high on either end of the spectrum.

Too hot or too cold? The artifact would counteract it and help keep the wearer nice and snug.

‘Neat.’

"It's on." Reivan flicked the jeweled pin, catching the very quiet humming it produced as the artifact’s enchantment activated.

This type of artifact had apparently been around for more than a thousand years, yet didn't undergo much change. Which was somewhat understandable. It wasn't very popular in the kingdom though because the climate was relatively mild, with summers not being too hot and winters not being all that cold.

“Excellent,” Gwen said, satisfied as she turned around and disappeared through the gate.

Once the gate stopped fluctuating from someone passing through it, Reivan followed her and opened his eyes to an underground chamber much like the one he’d just been in.

Except he instantly felt how different the air was, even when he was undoubtedly indoors.

“What in the…” Reivan looked around and saw another four knights, though these ones were mortals due to the agreement with Argonia.

Different from the ones on the other side, these knights weren’t wearing their full suits of armor but their knight uniforms instead. Hanging from their shoulders were cloaks similar to the one he was wearing. Being guards of such an important location, it would have been correct to chastise them, but Reivan held his tongue.

How could he scold them when it was obviously sweltering hot?

The surroundings itself seemed warped from the sheer heat around them. Being a vehement hater of hot weather in his past life, Reivan would have been the first to complain if he wasn’t wearing an artifact that mitigated temperatures like this. He hadn't been here for a minute and beads of sweat were already forming on his arms.

“The average temperature has been measured at fifty degrees Celsius, Your Highness,” Gwen answered the question he was about to ask. “Though it’s a bit lower here, being underground among other reasons.”

“Fifty…!? There's no way that's true...” Reivan was momentarily stunned by the number. Not because it was high, but because he and any decently-trained knight shouldn’t be affected by such a low number. It didn’t take long for him to realize the reason. “Is it because a Transcendent caused it? Is that why I can feel it more vividly?”

Gwen nodded solemnly as she led the way up a long flight of stone stairs. “That is what we assume. Even those with the fire attribute feel uncomfortable.”

“Good lord… Wait, then isn't the general populace in danger? Temperatures that high aren’t sustainable for ordinary people.”

“We have preemptively declared martial law and gathered the citizens in certain areas where we have knights with ice or fire attributes to manipulate the temperatures to more manageable levels. There is also medicine prepared just in case they collapse anyway. I’ve managed to consult with Sir Rolf, and he said that it should die down in a few months.”

“Months? You have got you kidding me...”

“Unfortunately, no.”

Reivan massaged the space between his brows. This state of affairs is supposed to last months? Why was he getting married when the affairs in the nation he would supposedly rule were this bad? Wasn't this a lot more important, given how many lives were at stake?

He wasn’t exactly the most scholarly hospital patient in the world, but back when he was glued to a bed, Reivan remembered a novel mentioning that the maximum temperature a human could tolerate was forty to fifty celsius. At which point, death was all but a certainty.

‘Shit. Are people dropping like flies as we speak?’

“There is no need to be alarmed, Your Highness.” Gwen looked back and assured him with an even tone and an expression that conveyed how everything was business as usual. “Very soon, we will have plenty of helpers and the situation will improve.”

“How soon, if I may ask?”

“A day or two. Negotiations with the battlemage remnants have been finalized by my proxies here. Though they were helping out even before that, now we can unify our efforts and achieve better results.”

Gwen then told him about a few things she found out from her subordinates' findings—which were part of the reason why she wanted to return today in the first place.

According to people who had been in Lageton from the very beginning, the heatwave wasn’t this bad at the start. It had presumably spread outward from somewhere in the middle of the republic, where old man Rolf fought the elf and the red dragon.

At the beginning, there was just ashfall from the dormant volcanoes that the dragon’s presence apparently caused to erupt—which was freaky to Reivan because he didn't know it was possible to cause natural disasters unnaturally. The heat had followed from a different direction, and while it blew the ash toward the sea, it also caused a whole host of other problems that weren’t just heat-related.

The remnant battlemages had taken the initiative to help out the settlements that they could, which just happened to be concentrated around the west and southwestern part of what used to be the republic. That also just so happened to be the area Aizen planned to include in the vassal nation. In other words, the battlemages spared from the empire’s witch hunt helped the kingdom’s interests by saving all the Arkhanians. All that was left was to absorb both the battlemages and the territories they had saved from doom.

Sadly, not all the battlemages came with the recruiters to Lageton, stubbornly staying where they were to protect the people in the area.

Reivan sighed in relief before his attention snapped back to national interests. “About the recruited battlemages… Are the conditions the same as we talked about?”

“Affirmative.”

“Excellent. There should be Ascendants among them though…?”

“They aren’t covered by the treaty, which places them all in immense danger. So they’ve accepted the kingdom’s asylum for now. All that’s left are the mortal battlemages from the Tower and the majority of four clans that are apparently quite important among battlemages. The Four Great Magus Clans, I believe they are called.”

“Ah, I’ve actually heard about them. Didn’t make much contact since I didn't explore the Upper Cities nor did I have anyone from their families to interact with.”

“Perhaps it is for the best, so you don’t let anything slip. In any case, I scheduled for you to meet every person of importance sometime after your wedding. Specifically, when you officially move into your residence here in Lageton. But if you have time…”

“I planned to return by tomorrow morning, so I don’t think so.” Reivan thought back to Elsamina.

It was a shame, but he couldn't spend more than a day here. He’d made a promise with Helen, who had magnanimously permitted him to visit Elsamina fully knowing what they’d do when they were reunited after months of not seeing each other. Starting their marriage with a broken vow didn’t seem wise, in any case, so he was committed to fulfilling it.

“How’s the residence, by the way?” he asked to change the topic.

Gwen shook her head. “From what I’ve been told, it isn’t finished yet. The climate isn’t making things any easier, but it should be done by the time you officially move in. The basic structure is finished, but the enchantments will take some time. Not to mention furnishing it.”

When the two of them made it out of the staircase, Reivan scanned the surroundings and saw nothing but stone walls until Gwen easily flipped one of the walls around like a rotating door. They came out to what was obviously an office made to look very similar to the one he had at the palace.

“This is to be your office, Your Highness.”

“Uh-huh. Looks just like the one I had back home.”

“Should I have refrained?”

Reivan shook his head with a smile. “No. I like it better this way.”

“That’s good to hear.” Gwen nodded, before gesturing toward the rotating wall. “By the way, there were other staircases in the underground chamber, each one leading to a different part of the palace. So you won’t have to worry about people constantly filling in and out of your office, Your Highness. You can also use those other routes if you wish. I will show you where all of them are once you officially move in. Even the secret ones.”

“For emergency escapes, huh? Sounds promising. Anyway, we should get to it.”

“Indeed.”

With a mental nudging through their bond, Reivan summoned Dom, the powerful spirit beast he’d made a contract with at the Sanctuary. In energy-saving mode, Dom appeared as a normal-sized adult wolf. It was the largest energy-saving form Reivan had ever seen from a spirit beast since most of them became small enough to appear as realistic stuffed toys.

Dom still had those three golden horns that looked a lot like the prongs of a crown though, so nobody would ever mistake him as an ordinary wolf. The arrogant mutt had been in a constant state of sleep because it took one of his spirit dew pills every time it woke up. Reivan had made expressly sure that Dom would be awake for now though.

And it wasn’t just because of personal security reasons.

“Alright.” he turned to Dom and gave the wolf’s head a pat. "You know what to do."

Snorting, yet still obediently following, Dom closed his eyes and seemingly focused on nothing. In response, both Reivan and Gwen looked through the window on the far side of the room to catch any changes.

But nothing happened, and Dom’s ears slumped both in disappointment and frustration.

“Don’t worry about it too much. It was a longshot anyway,” Reivan assured. “Sure, you have the ability to change the weather, but you can’t go against adversaries of higher realms. It seems this heatwave really is some kind of delayed weather effect. In which case, we can't really do anything about it but endure.”

Dom still looked a bit upset, so against his better judgment, Reivan gave it some spirit dew pills and set it back into his soul when it fell asleep.

“It is unfortunate that it didn’t work,” Gwen remarked from beside him. Surprisingly, she truly looked disappointed at the results. “I was hoping it would be enough to remedy the situation in Lageton. It would have been amazing material for propaganda as well.”

“Ah, well. We can’t have everything.”

“Indeed. I suppose we’ll just have to make do with what we have.”

“That's the plan, it seems. I’m counting on you, Gwen.”

“Of course. I shall do my utmost.” Gwen saluted again, crisp and brimming with confidence. “With that out of the way, I believe this is where we part ways for now.”

Reivan nodded. “Stay safe out there.”

“Yes. Please return to the motherland without me tomorrow. I plan to stay here for two or three days before going back.”

“Noted. I’ll be fine on my own, so don’t worry.”

Even though he had to leave behind any items made by Ascendants and above—including the Sword Star's bell and Saintess Frey's blessing—because it would break treaty, Reivan was confident enough in his own strength to at least run away from anything the empire could throw his way.

Seemingly satisfied, Gwen stepped out of the office and disappeared off to who knew where.

Left alone, Reivan found his feet carrying him toward the window. Peering outside revealed mostly barren streets and the sad state of a once lively city. Lageton had truly fallen from grace, though he supposed that was the case for most of the republic. In fact, Lageton was probably among the places that are better off.

The only silver lining was how the infrastructure looked to be somewhat serviceable. There was some minor damage here and there because of the shockwaves brought upon by a spirit king’s struggle against the Tower, but what remained of that damage was insignificant enough to be ignored in light of the current situation.

Basically, as long as the people endured until the climate stabilized, then the people could regain some measure of normalcy.

“Fuck,” Reivan cursed, despite the optimism he was trying to muster. Looking down at his arm, beads of sweat were forming on his bare skin despite all the measures he was taking against heat. He could even feel his armpits moisten. Hell, even places down there were starting to feel steamy.

‘This seriously ain’t your average fifty-degree weather.’

Sure, it was hot. But it felt as if any resistance was being nullified so he could well and truly feel it. He didn’t need to be told that this was some Transcendent bullshit because it made no sense—and that was reason enough to assume a Transcendent did it.

“How the fuck are we going to get through this though…?” Reivan unconsciously asked aloud. “Food self-sufficiency is practically impossible.”

Lageton didn’t have many fields around it given how it was in Eastern Arkhan—which was a region that focused on industrial endeavors—but what little it did have probably wasn’t doing so well considering the ashfall and the heatwave that followed. The city was right next to the sea, so fishing should have been an option but the ash from various volcanic eruptions contaminated the sea. And besides, the heat also didn’t do the fish near the shores any favors, as countless marine creatures floated up to the surface as inedible corpses.

Even monster fish weren’t fairing any better.

‘If we want to fish, we’ll have to go really far offshore. And that’s big monster territory. Krakens and Dagons probably start showing up.’

Of course, he didn’t actually know if Dagons existed here, but giant squids definitely did. They tasted great with soy sauce or grilled with salt. A restaurant in Starwater even served them raw, like sushi. It was amazing. Picky as he was, he’d give it a solid eight out of ten.

Reivan cleared his throat, realizing he probably shouldn’t be thinking of such leisurely things when so many people were suffering over here. The contrast to the peace in Aizen was staggering.

In any case, it was apparent that Lageton would be entirely dependent on the kingdom's aid for the foreseeable future, given their atrocious food situation. Water too, since mages couldn’t make drinkable water. As if that wasn't enough, all sources of freshwater in the vicinity had either evaporated or were contaminated with ash.

‘I suppose one silver lining is how the monster populations have been mostly wiped out.’

The only ones that remained were probably those with the fire attribute, which were rare since Arkhan hadn’t been a desert or peppered with active volcanoes before the cataclysmic events that changed everything.

“Ugh, guess we'll just have to try our best.” Reivan’s shoulder slumped as he opened the window and flinched upon being blasted with the blistering heat outside. He waved it away with a gust of frosty air before jumping down and landing on Zee’s giant body.

Once up in the sky, Reivan got an even better view of the current Lageton and his eyes widened.

There were a number of things that weren’t there before.

First was the castle he’d just left, placed on the eastern edge of Lageton. Just as he had been informed, there were going to be multiple district-sized areas around his main palace for him to house his concubines and children, just in case they ever wanted to live with him. People with Aizenian features were bustling around it and presumably applying the finishing touches to the soon-to-be ruler’s residence. Technically, they shouldn’t have done it yet since there was supposed to be a farce where he would run for governor, but nobody in Lageton had it in them to chastise the people handing out food.

That seemed like a really good way to go hungry, after all. No threats were made, of course, but people simply used their common sense and actively stopped any idiots from saying anything stupid to the kind foreigners who had all the food.

Second, was the literal Spirit Tower planted smack dab in the middle of Lageton. There was supposed to be a government building there, but that was no longer the case.

‘The old man really stole the Tower and ran off. Un-fucking-believable. Who even does that? Who just steals a building...!?’

Reivan didn’t know how a structure as large as the Spirit Tower could be stolen, but the Sword Star had done it. The old man must have had a history of banditry because this was just crazy.

And third on his list of new sights were the four floating islands that were collectively known as the Upper City in Vel Ayala. They weren’t in Vel Ayala now, that was for sure. Each of the four islands was still chained to the Tower, just as Reivan remembered them.

‘Crazy old man. He didn’t know where all the important stuff was, so he just stole the whole place. That’s nuts.’

Needless to say, Aizen’s knights had already sacked the place and took everything of value back to the capital.

The biggest piece of loot was undoubtedly The Sanctuary—a portion of the spirit world that Sage King Antonnel apparently ripped out for his own purposes. It had been hard to move because it was so delicate, but they had managed.

Now, the next generation of knights was going to have spirit beasts as companions to grow alongside with. That obviously meant that mages would not have this benefit anymore—essentially dissolving the term "battlemage"—but to the victor goes the spoils.

‘Only problem is how to make more of those orbs.’

Since the Ascendant battlemages joined, the kingdom now knew how the orbs were made. The thing was, the material could only be harvested once a year and in limited amounts.

Of course, there was also the brute force method of sending an army of knights over and just hoping most of them attract a spirit beast without the need for an orb. Spirit beasts seemed to like elementalists, after all. And all knights with an attribute trained as elementalists.

In any case, this whole tragedy had some good and bad points; the Sage King was no more and the kingdom found yet another way to strengthen itself.

“So big…” Reivan spent a moment looking at the tower that had lost its status as a Transcendent’s domain upon the Sage King’s death. It was certainly still a majestic piece of architecture, but it was also a giant target with sub-optimal defensive capabilities.

Palaces were superior. And he wasn’t just being biased as someone who had lived in one for almost twenty years.

‘Okay, maybe I am a bit biased.’

Zouros seemed unaffected by the high temperature as he flew through the cityscape with Reivan on his back. Rather, his serpentine companion seemed to like it for some reason.

Eventually, they made it to an expansive estate that didn’t even try to hide its affiliation with Ouroboros—flying proudly on both sides of the entrance, there were literally banners depicting a golden serpent forming a ring as it ate its own tail on a black and purple background.

“Heh. Guess there's no reason to hide it anymore,” Reivan remarked with amusement. He then tapped the giant winged snake he was riding and pointed at the banners. “Look, Zee. That's you.”

Its tongue peeked out for a moment before protests reached Reivan’s mind. The sassy serpent disagreed with him because its scales were black, while the banner had a golden serpent on it. No wings on the banner either.

‘You’re so particular about these things, but sure. It’s not you. Happy?’

Zouros’ enormous head bobbed up and down as it rolled in the air and let Reivan fall to his doom.

Or not. Reivan gracefully landed on the estate’s courtyard.

Immediately, he could feel countless people's attention focus on him. But the shrunken Zouros draped over his shoulders and his appearance must have been enough. The knights tasked to protect Elsa knew him and his disguises, after all, so there would be no problems with him dropping in like this. One of them even appeared before him and saluted.

“Your Highness.” The female knight with a blonde ponytail and charming freckles spread around her nose saluted. “Lady Elsamina is currently resting in one of the private lounges.”

“Thank you.” Reivan tapped Zouros on the snout and it rubbed its head on his cheek before retreating back into his soul. He then used [Reality Falsification] to transform into the man Elsamina thought of as her lover. “Would you mind leading the way?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

The walk was short, and Reivan arrived before a large pool of water that seemed made for swimming. They were on the second floor, so the extravagance was not lost on him. Also, the room’s roof opened up to let sunlight illuminate the intricately designed chamber, creating a picturesque scene that could easily belong in a painting.

Reivan couldn’t care less about the water, the hole in the roof, or the paintings.

There was a beautiful whitewood sofa next to the pool, and a bombshell of a woman was fanning herself as she wore what looked like a very thin white toga. It made her seem even more like some Greek goddess. And she may indeed have been the reincarnation of one. At least, he would believe it if someone told him that.

“Ugh, why is it so hot~!?” Elsamina complained as she swept aside the strands of red hair that clung to her sweaty forehead. “I feel like even my eyes are sweating… and it’s so disgusting… I don't want to do anything today...”

She still had yet to notice him, revealing a childish slovenliness he didn't get to see very often. Her eyes were closed and he wasn’t exactly stomping on the ground as he walked toward her, so it made sense she hadn’t noticed yet.

‘So she had this side too, hm? Also, she’s poison to the eyes. My goodness...’

Since Elsamina was soon to be his wife anyway, Reivan felt it was his divine privilege to ogle her in her misshapen state. Her fair white skin glistened with sweat and the way strands of her luscious red hair clung to her neck held an irresistible allure. Not to mention how her toga had gotten a bit see-through from either water or sweat.

It was strange. He’d already seen every nook and cranny of her body. Yet seeing her in wet clothes turned him on a lot more than he cared to admit.

‘Well, maybe it’s also because we haven’t seen each other in a while.’

Some part of him knew that he was a giant pervert, so it was natural for him to get excited over such a sight. And why wouldn’t he?

Growing more impatient, he couldn’t even think of a way to prank her. So he just tapped her on the shoulder and snapped his fingers. Shards of ice that released chilling winds appeared around them, counteracting the heat that filled the chamber.

That must have felt fantastic because Elsamina released a soft gasp of pleasure that sent his internal patience meter crashing down. He really wanted to just take her then and there, but he controlled himself. There was a process to these things.

“Honey, I’m back,” Reivan announced, his mind already thinking of all the things he was going to do in the limited time he had before he needed to return.

As expected, his fiancee’s eyes popped open and her jaw slackened in shock at the sound of his voice. “Ken! It’s you!”

He chuckled, satisfied by her surprise. “Missed me?”

"What a silly question—of course I did." Elsa stood up and embraced him, which wasn't very comfortable given how sopping wet she was and how he was also a bit sweaty underneath all his clothes.

Then she froze.

"Since when have you been here?"

Reivan chuckled, intent on dodging the question.

Arc#5 Chapter 6: Moments with the Twins

It would have been a waste to part ways when fate and chance just happened to bring them together already, so Reivan and Hector chose one of the many private parlors in the palace to kill some time—which eventually transformed into sharing a drink.

Before he left to fulfill his duties in Arkhan, Reivan never liked drinking alcohol. That is, until his little foray as Clover Salwyn made him appreciate the devil's water a little.

Naturally, he wasn't a big fan of hangovers and blackouts. It was fortunate that his original body had some level of tolerance for booze. Or maybe it was just because his body—and subsequently, his metabolism and all sorts of other stuff—had developed to the extent that he needed a ridiculous amount of alcohol to feel even a little tipsy.

'Yep. It's great when I don't have the alcohol tolerance of a wet tissue. Now I can really take the time to take in the smell and the taste.'

"Good stuff." Reivan licked his lips and savored the finely aged wine. Though it was a bit too early to be drinking by Aizen's standards, nobody around would chastise them. Besides, they wouldn't be having very much so it hardly mattered.

Probably.

"Ah. We're all out..." Hector muttered with a frown, pouring the last drop of wine from the carafe into his own cup. He downed it all in one go and shrugged. "Oh well. It's a bad idea to drink too much anyway."

"Right, right. Adult responsibilities and whatnot."

"Speaking of adult responsibilities... I heard you brought home some Arkhanian girl. Pretty too, according to trustworthy sources."

Reivan found himself grimacing as he threw a suspicious glare at his best friend. "Where'd you even hear that?"

"Here and there." Hector motioned nonchalantly at nothing in particular while idly stroking a miniature dragon curled up on his lap—the same one Reivan had given him as a bit of a souvenir. "Sometimes, the winds bring news. That's all."

"You're so full of shit. Was it Helen?"

"Who else could it be?"

"Urgh..." Reivan groaned as he clicked his tongue. "Did she... uh, say anything...? Y'know, about being displeased and whatnot."

Hector shook his head. "No, I was informed only recently about her. Particularly, it's so I don't think she's some kind of intruder when I come visit. Which is funny, because who'd be dumb enough to infiltrate the palace of all things? You'd have to be a madman."

"is that all?"

"No. She also told me not to tease you too much about it."

"Then you should've done as she said, you ass."

"That's so lame though. Anyway, you didn’t answer the question. What’s up with the chick? Are you marrying her too? Don't you think you should ease up a bit?”

“Why are you being so damned persistent…?" Reivan massaged the bridge of his nose before shrugging. “And as for marrying her, that’s still up in the air. She kind of hates me a little… Or maybe not so much anymore. But for now, we're just trying to be friends.”

“If you say so,” Hector said in a tone that made it very obvious that he didn’t believe him. “Right. Also, I'm moving to Lageton eventually. Maybe a little bit after you arrive there, if conditions are right.”

“Huh. I thought you’d want to enjoy married life a little?”

“Things kind of aligned, y'see. Oh, but it'll have to be after the kid's born. And the rumored climate problems die down.”

Apparently, House Mercer was going to send a number of mortal knights to establish a branch family based in the new country—which Reivan was still supposed to name but hadn’t gotten around to yet because he wasn’t very good at naming things.

That went double for the Terracatta Clan, who would be sending even more. Unlike House Mercer, they didn’t have Fort Alexander to protect after all, meaning they didn't have a territory or much else to do other than activities in the Outlands. Even without all that, he understood that they wanted a place where they could prove themselves.

Because of that and his friendship with Reivan, Hector was tasked with being the de facto head of the subsidiary clan from the Mercer side of things. And Mimi, a member of the royal family, would be a good bridge between the Terracatta Clan and Reivan—the new ruler—even though she technically wasn't part of the warbeast's clan anymore.

Blood was thicker than water. That applied here too because Mimi just couldn't find it in her to completely break away from her people the same way Jiji did, as the former didn't suffer from the same ostracization as the latter.

In essence, there were political reasons why it was convenient for Hector and Mimi to go to Lageton. It was convenient for Reivan, so he wouldn't be complaining about the arrangements any time soon. Not that he had anything to complain about.

“Also, I just want to be there, ya know?” Hector shrugged, lightly punching Reivan’s shoulder. “I admit I'm not that great, but there’s gonna be a lot of fighting so someone’s gotta watch your back, right?”

Reivan couldn’t help but smile at that. “Thanks, Hector. It'd be great to have you.”

“Well, don’t thank me yet. Who knows, I might make a catastrophic mistake that dooms us all.”

“Pfft. Yeah… I can kind of see that happening...”

Hector punched him again. A bit harder this time. “I was joking. You’re supposed to reassure me that I’m not that bad."

The two childhood friends joked around like old times—times when their greatest worries seemed so trivial and irrelevant. Reivan felt his heart lighten because of precious moments like these, hoping he’d have more of it. It was a fantastic reprieve from constantly being on edge while behind enemy lines, far away from the home he'd found in his second life.

When he returned from his prolonged stay in the republic, Reivan and Hector had numerous chats and even drank together to catch up on things—which was mainly just Reivan recounting what had happened to him. It had taken multiple meetups to actually recount all that had happened, and only after did Hector begin to tell him about what happened while staying in Aizen—which wasn’t much, but that was a good thing because it meant no tragedies or mishaps occured.

Truly, peace was wonderful. It would be great if it lasted forever, but they both knew that wouldn't be the case.

“Hey,” Reivan crossed his legs and reclined, sinking even deeper into his soft armchair when the conversation had died down. “Remember the trainee battlemage in my squad I told you about? The one that chased skirts like his life depended on it.”

Hector raised a brow and seemed to dig through his memories for a moment before snapping his fingers. “Aldimir, right? What about him?”

“I told you about him but I forgot to say that he reminded me of you.”

“Oh yeah? Was he handsome and charismatic like me?”

“He was confident, yes.” Reivan rolled his eyes with a grin. “But he was actually the complete opposite of you in a lot of ways.”

Aldimir had been a womanizer while Hector surprisingly fixated on just a single woman like most men in Aizen. The former had been lazy while the latter was disciplined and secretly diligent to a fault. And though it wasn’t that important, their chosen fighting styles were opposites.

But with all that said, they had plenty of similarities: the way they talked, the way they both had issues with their parents, and the way they both didn’t have it in them to be disloyal to comrades.

Reivan sighed when he recalled what Mordred had told him about Aldimir's reaction to Clover's death. “He was a good guy. All in all.”

Hector nodded to himself as a somber mood filled the air. And only after a dozen heartbeats passed did he break the silence. “Is he dead?”

To that, Reivan could only shake his head. “I didn’t kill him, at the very least. But I’m not sure if he is. And if he is still alive, I'm not sure where he'd be. Apparently, he and the rest of the squad weren't in the Tower when the Sword Star ripped it out.”

“I see… Do you want him to be alive?”

“I…" Reivan paused to muse on his feelings but found himself nodding in just a heartbeat. "I think I do. No, I'm sure I do. There's no need for him to die, so... And I think this way about the rest of the squad too. They're all good people.”

“Then let’s hope that they're all okay. I’d like to meet this Aldimir in particular though. Tell him to stay away from my daughters, if I ever have any.”

“I don’t think he likes them that young.” Reivan chuckled, thinking that it would be nice to see a meeting between the two.

But then again, should Reivan even tell Aldimir and the rest of his squad about him being the Clover that they knew? Was there a merit to that? There were definitely demerits, such as revealing that there was a way to transform into people without being detected even by Ascendants—and that Reivan had access to that method.

‘Yeah… I probably shouldn’t.’

He supposed this was yet another conflict of interests between his selfish desires of the responsibility of being one of the kingdom's many swords. These kinds of things were going to pop out a lot in his life, he realized. But he was just going to have to agonize and deal with it because both aspects were him. They were two parts of a whole.

“Van,” Hector carefully called out, using the nickname that only a few people used. “Are you okay? You know… About all of this. There’s the whole concubine army thing. Then there’s being the head of a literal country. And then there’s helping those darkin ladies you mentioned too.”

Reivan looked up from his empty cup and saw the worry in his friend’s eyes. It was at these moments that he thanked whatever gods looked over him for having met a friend like this. He may not have had plenty, but the one he had was worth countless acquaintances who would only stick with him when the weather was fair.

Because troubled times were when you needed a friend the most.

“I’m fine. Really.” Reivan traced his empty cup’s rim with his thumb as he spoke. “I think I actually like the responsibility and the expectations placed upon me.”

Hector's brows furrowed in confusion. “You like it...?”

"Yeah." Reivan nodded with a sheepish grin. “You see… They look at me and see someone dependable. Someone they can share their burdens with. Someone they can count on. And I want to prove them right.”

He would complain, he knew, when the workload was heavy. Or when he was so busy he never had the time to indulge in hobbies or spend time with the people he loved. When he was leagues away from the people he wanted close, surely, he would be frustrated and homesick.

But he’d take this over being perpetually ignored as if he was some stain on the floor any day. Like the little boy who spent thirteen years sleeping alone in a lonely room that smelled of medicine, hoping his parents would visit at least once before he passed away.

Reivan didn’t want to be that boy anymore. He didn’t want to be a burden that was better off being forgotten.

‘I want them all to see me. Because I’m right here.’

“I…” Hector also seemed pensive, his gaze lowered to his own empty cup. “I think I can understand. I mean, if I wasn’t talented or friends with you, I don’t think my clan would even look at me. Now, that’s definitely not the case anymore. And I suppose it doesn’t feel all that bad.”

“Oh yeah?” Reivan raised a brow, finding the corners of his lip rising. “I thought you hated your family.”

“Hate… is what I thought I felt. I was young, after all. I didn't even know what I was supposed to feel. But I realized that wasn’t actually it. I probably just wanted to prove them wrong. That my mother did the right thing by giving birth to me. And I think I’ve already accomplished that.”

"They still kind of treated you like shit, no?"

"Some did, yes. But the clan still raised me and my sister, right? They didn't leave us in an orphanage just so they'd never have to see us again."

“I guess that's true." Reivan hummed in thought, suddenly discovering that his friend was a lot more mature than he was. Because he wasn't sure if he could let go of a grudge had their positions been switched.

'And to think I'm mentally twice this guy's age even without all the time I spend in my head.'

"Cheers, then." Reivan raised a toast. "To those who don't want to be ignored.”

"What kind of shitty toast is that..." Despite what he was saying, Hector still chuckled.

And with smirks, they clinked their empty cups together.

════════════════════════════════

Men were strange creatures that were prone to feeling very awkward after a heartfelt moment, so Reivan and Hector split up after that.

Hector had been on his way to see his pregnant wife-to-be before he got sidetracked by the encounter with Reivan. Reivan wasn’t uncouth enough to butt into that so that was even more reason to say goodbye and do their own thing.

Funnily enough, Mimi had told Hector to visit her once every day to rub her belly. It was apparently a warbeast thing, but both Hector and Reivan were sure she just made it up. There was no such tradition, but that did remind Reivan that he should probably talk to his brother about setting Hector up in the palace. As it was, Hector was too inconvenienced by the everyday commute between the Mercer Manor and the Royal Palace.

Now that Mimi—a princess, though an adopted one—was pregnant, it made sense for Hector to be taken in too. It was the same for Stella in the past and Helen presently; both pretty much lived in the palace before their respective wedding ceremonies.

If he knew his brother though, arrangements to do so were probably in the works already. Maybe Hector would move in as early as today. There were just a bunch of other issues cropping up lately—such as the possible destruction of the kingdom if the Sword Star died in the Battle of the Titans or the literal discovery of the darkin race—that prevented his brother from noticing these relatively mundane concerns.

In any case, Reivan just ended up killing time until dinner at one of the smaller dining halls, where his whole family was surprisingly present.

His parents were there, as well as the reigning royal couple. Both of his adopted sisters too, plus the pregnant one’s fiancee. Despite the noise, his baby nephew was sleeping peacefully in a nearby crib and his young nieces were happily sitting on his Uncle Viktor's shoulders, enjoying the higher vantage point.

Naturally, his own fiancee was there too, looking as beautiful as ever.

It was a peaceful scenery, one that Reivan wanted to see every day for the rest of his life. Sadly, he wouldn’t get to see it as much after getting married, but such is the weight of responsibility that he would gladly bear. He’d satisfy himself with seeing it every once in a while.

After that, his uncle pulled him away so they could catch up and they were joined by his father, his brother, and his other brother—Hector. Unexpectedly, all the men of the royal family were gathered, though he supposed his nephew was missing on account of being an infant who was better off staying away from noisy drunks. With their cups filled to the brim with the really strong stuff, conversations stopped making sense at some point. And Reivan found himself forgetting what they even talked about as he stumbled back to his room.

“You stink.” Helen immediately told him when he got inside their shared chambers. "You drank too much, no?"

“Father pulled out the good stuff, see...” Reivan chuckled, looking at her and finding her extremely huggable. The moment he thought so, she was somehow already in his arms. He wasn’t very clear on who initiated it, but it didn’t really matter to his tipsy mind.

His hands naturally lowered and found two soft peaches.

‘This is great…’

“Hey, watch where you're grabbing...” Helen muttered, looking up at him with clear exasperation. “Are you just going to sleep like this?”

“I think so…” he muttered as he leaned down to rain kisses down on her neck. And he must have been doing it right because he felt an arm hook around his head to pull him even deeper in.

While in his stint as Clover Salwyn, Reivan was the type of drunk who didn’t remember what happened while he was drunk. But as himself, he realized that he was the dizzy type. Or perhaps that was just the particular alcohol he consumed.

He wasn’t sure. But sometimes, it would just make him horny or cloud his judgment.

‘Hell. Maybe it’s dependent on the moon and stars at this point.’

Helen eventually pushed him away, her nose crinkled. "I can't. The smell of alcohol is just too much."

"Eh, c'mon..."

"No."

Reivan pouted but relented, dispelling his drunkenness with [Effect Reproduction] and getting rid of his smell through a release of icy mist. If he did it too close to the furniture, he might ruin it in a moment of carelessness. Of course, he was adept enough to avoid such an outcome. Even half-asleep, he'd never be muddleheaded enough to damage his own chambers.

Maybe.

'Ah. Did I just raise a flag where I end up destroying my room...? Surely not.'

"What about now?" Reivan spread his arms wide with a grin before hopping onto their bed.

Helen sat at the edge and took a sniff. "Better. You shouldn't neglect bathing properly though..."

"Hey, I take a bath every day and brush my teeth twice a day, okay?"

They both changed into more comfortable clothing—which was easy, since they were products of their soul armaments and he could change with a mere thought.

And even though she just expressed her doubts about his hygiene, Helen still cuddled up to him under the covers. Which he really appreciated because he didn’t think he could go back to sleeping alone after these past few weeks. It had become one of his creature comforts and he couldn't bear to live without it.

Well, he probably could, but he didn’t want to.

“Van,” Helen whispered.

“Yes, my lovely wife?” Reivan played along with a grin as he matched her hushed tone. “Is there something I can do for you? Or is there something wrong?”

She shook her head, still buried in his embrace. "No. I actually wanted to ask you if there was something wrong. About everything that's been happening lately.”

“What are you talking about? Everything’s perfect. I trust your judgment on matters of our wedding.”

“What? No. I’m not talking about just the wedding. And it feels like you’ve been saying those exact words a lot lately…”

‘Fuck.’

He cleared his throat and found himself more sober than before. “What did you mean, then?”

“You know… About all sorts of things," she repeated slowly, seemingly mulling over every word. "Everything is happening all at once. For you, especially. The wedding, the concubines... and then there's the move to Lageton too. And that's right after you spent months infiltrating enemy lines. I just thought that you'd... be having a hard time. If you want, we could delay the wedding until things calm down a little...”

Reivan finally cracked his eyes open and looked down to his chest, where the worry was clear in Helen’s eyes. Despite the situation, he found himself grinning.

‘Is it because they’re twins? They’re similar in more ways than I thought.’

He once again found himself appreciating the sort of company he found himself around. Truly, few people had his lucky stars on this particular aspect.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Reivan said, almost telling her exactly what he’d told Hector. But he stopped himself in time. Because while his feelings were the same, one was his best friend and the other was going to be his wife soon.

In a moment of clarity, he spoke. “I can take on the world if you’re with me.”

That seemed to go over very well, because even Helen seemed to get shy, averting her gaze as the arms around him tightened. Really, he was going to spend a lot of effort getting all sorts of reactions out of her usually inexpressive face. It was his privilege as the husband, he thought.

“I’ll do my best…” she quietly said.

“I know.” Reivan kissed her on the forehead as comforting drowsiness completely overtook him. “I will too. Now, no more talks of delaying the wedding. I'm excited for it too, y'know?”

"Even though you think the preparations are a pain?"

"I-I mean..."

"Y'know, I've heard there's this slip of paper getting passed around with wedding tips for men..."

Reivan heart sank.

════════════════════════════════

The next day, Helen was still in a very good mood, presumably because of their little chat before going to sleep.

During their early morning spar, she didn’t hit him in the face at all and was markedly more gentle with the strikes that did land. Obviously, he wouldn’t hit her that hard either. They were a little too in the mood for this, clearly. Because of that, the spar was quite useless because both of them unconsciously held back too much.

‘Yeah, this isn’t gonna work, huh?’

They were going to have to find different sparring partners soon.

While it was touching for it to happen when they had always been capable of putting feelings aside during spars, it was unhealthy for their skills.

‘Hector is going to be around a lot now, but…’

While his best friend was amazing in his own right, he wasn’t quite at Reivan and Helen’s level yet. In matters of technique, he was close or even on par with them. But there was still a gap in physical potency. Considering that close combat was a knight’s main weapon against an opponent of a similar level, that was a big disadvantage.

Most likely, he’d have to go with Gwendolyn or some other nearby knight instead. Because of the Treaty, all the knights he would have around him very soon would be mortal ones, giving him plenty of choices.

‘Ah. That reminds me. Valter’s going to be out of a job for a while…’

Officially, the Treaty of Alexander was an agreement not to utilize Ascendants and Transcendents against other signatories, and that a nation would need the votes of half the signatories to become one.

That said, there was an agreement that only Argonia and Aizen were a part of. And that was to keep their most powerful forces out of Arkhan entirely in addition to being confined to their respective capital regions—the Capital Province for the Empire and the entirety of Aizen for the Kingdom. Surprisingly, Aizen was only as big as one of Argonia's provinces, which really cemented just how expansive Argonia was.

This arrangement was actually great for Aizen because their biggest problem was the portal to the Outlands, not some other nation. Most countries only had one Transcendent, after all, but the Outlands had an innumerable number of them and it would continue to produce more.

An exception to the rule was the monthly patrol of one’s territory, where they were allowed to scour the lands for any Ascendants who were unaccounted for—such as ones that came from other continents or monsters that Ascended. Another exception was if their territory was attacked or threatened by a force above the mortal level, which was a reasonable exception to the rules.

In any case, Valter couldn’t actually come with Reivan because of those limitations. A sad thing, really. But they could see each other whenever they pleased because of the gate portal installed in Lageton. It cost resources every trip, however, so he couldn’t be too wanton about it.

Replacing Valter as his guardian knight was Sir Xander, Valter’s descendant and someone who had served as a spy for years. He’d be officially retiring his identity as “Xanthus” and handing the reins of leading Ouroboros’ paramilitary corps to someone else.

As for Ouroboros itself, he still had to talk to Elsamina about it but he essentially planned for the organization to be partnered with the government he would be heading. And by that, he meant all of Ouroboros, including all of its subsidiary and decoy companies.

Essentially, it would completely break away from its underground nature and become his government's partner. This would fully pull it out of the darkness and into the light, which was in line with what Reivan and Elsa's recent intentions for the organization.

‘Elsa…’

Reivan sighed wistfully when he remembered his other fiancee, who he hadn’t seen for quite a while now. He had exchanged messages over relay holostones, though. And Gwen had told Elsamina that Reivan—or rather, “Ken”—was fine, sparing her from any sleepless nights of worrying about him.

‘It’s about time I tell her the entire truth, huh?’

As far as he knew, Elsamina still wasn't aware of his true identity. And though she understood that he was supposed to marry another girl before he married her, he hadn’t told her that it would be happening very soon. Which was perfectly understandable because even he hadn’t been clear about the exact date until he actually came back.

“Helen…” Reivan cleared his throat and looked at the beautiful dark-haired woman he was going to marry soon, sporting that familiar ponytail that exposed her nape. It was a shame he was about to possibly end her good mood. “We need to talk about Elsa…”

“Mhm.” Helen’s face soured a little as expected, but she thankfully didn’t look outright upset or angry. “Have you told her who you really are yet?”

“No, not yet. I planned to, though.”

“Then you should head over to Lageton and do that. Today’s good. You’re not really doing anything since you’ve left all the wedding matters to me, big sis, and mother-in-law. Seriously, mother-in-law was right about men...”

Sheepishly, he chuckled and averted his gaze. “Today, huh…”

“Yes. You’d have to go before the wedding if you’re to invite her to it, no?”

Reivan’s brows shot up. “Is that really alright with you…? You wouldn’t mind?”

Helen grimaced for a brief moment before sighing. She then stabbed her sword into the grass and sat down. “I’ve done a lot of thinking on my own while you weren’t around. About our future.”

“Oh. Okay. And…?”

“And though I won’t pretend like I like her… I don’t think I hate her either. I’m sure you understand, but we won’t ever get along. I hope you never expect us to either."

"That... makes sense." he nodded with a sigh.

"I can tolerate sharing given your status, but I won’t ever like it. You understand, right?”

"Yes." Reivan bobbed his head repeatedly. Trying to think about it from her perspective, he wouldn’t like it if she had a lover other than him. Even if world peace literally depended on it or something, he would understand but he would hate it.

“But,” Helen said, turning to meet his gaze. Her dark eyes were clear, and there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “She’s worked hard for your sake and I can’t find myself disliking her for that. If she’s going to support you more in the future, then I’ll try to get along with her as long as you’re not around.”

“...Eh? Is that your way of telling me to fuck off?”

“You misunderstand.”

Helen stood up, hooked his chin, and held it in place. Her eyes narrowed in an almost predatory way that sent a tingle down Reivan's spine.

“When we’re together, I want your eyes to be solely on me.”

“Ah.” Reivan found himself breathless for a moment before nodding. “Yes, ma’am. Loud and clear.”

“Very good.” She smiled and let go, turning around and walking off to the palace. “Get going, then. Before I change my mind and lock you in chains. I already have the chains just in case."

"You're joking..." he laughed awkwardly but the notification of a lie being detected never came. So he cleared his throat and resolved to be a bit more on guard for a while. “Right. I’ll be back by tomorrow.”

“Not tonight, but tomorrow, huh…?” Helen’s steps halted before she sighed and continued. “Well, fine. I won’t mind what you do with others as long as I don’t see it and as long as you’re mine alone when we are together. As for Elsamina, I would rather she was absent from my wedding but I at least want to invite her. I don't think she'll want to come though... Because I wouldn't want to come to hers.”

Reivan wiped a bead of cold sweat running down his forehead. “I'll invite her.”

“Don't try too hard.”

And with that statement that sounded slightly threatening, Helen disappeared into the palace leaving Reivan in the garden. Inexplicably, he found himself rubbing his neck.

‘That went a lot better than I thought it would...’

Honestly, he didn't know how all those harem protagonists did it.

In any case, Reivan had expected some last-minute arguing regarding Elsamina. Sure, Helen may have already said that she wasn't going to stop him in the past. But there was always the chance that she had a change of heart. And he wouldn't have blamed her for it either.

Afterall, not all good things were better when shared.

Arc#5 Chapter 5: Resolve

As the scent of paper wafted into his nose, Reivan couldn't help but smile.

The royal archives looked the same as he remembered it. Books. Just, books everywhere you looked. Shelves upon shelves upon shelves of the good stuff.

That said, not everything was the same. As it turned out, the old lore keeper who knew where everything was had changed from his childhood. It was a little sad to think about, but such is life. And who knew, maybe the old man was still alive and enjoying retirement with dozens of great-grandkids or something. Not everything had to be a tragedy.

In any case, since the royal archives weren't built for public use, they weren't optimized for people to find what they were looking for themselves—only knights and the royal family could peruse them after all. As such, you either had to know where you needed to search or ask the lorekeeper. Unlike the public library, it didn't have a sitting area. You could scan the books to see if they were what you were looking for then leave. That was it. Sticking around wasn't advised.

Of course, there were exceptions.

'She has such horrible posture...'

Reivan's steps were soundless as he paced closer and closer to a young woman sitting with her back leaning on one of the shelves, hunched over a book she had placed on her lap. He suddenly had to stop and hide when she stood up, grunting as she stretched her undoubtedly stiff back. They weren't that loud, but his hearing was good enough to hear how her spine cracked.

Clearly, she had been in an uncomfortable position for a while.

"Ugh, my poor back..." Mira groaned in a hushed voice before grumbling to herself. "Stupid Aizenians. Is it so hard to put a few chairs in here? How's a girl supposed to read comfortably like this? Better yet, put some beds in here for crying out loud..."

Reivan couldn't help but smirk as he listened, moving with the quiet intention to shadow her. He wanted to see how long it would take for her to notice someone was walking five feet behind her.

After she returned the book she was reading to its proper slot, Mira lumbered over to another aisle of shelves. Eventually, she stopped upon a rather familiar part of the archives—one dedicated to history.

Not just recent history either. This was the place you went to if you wanted to look stuff up from more than a thousand years ago. Reivan had personally read some of the tomes from this area, seeing as major historical points in the kingdom's life were integral to his education. Every time he thought about it, he felt amazed by the fact that he could learn so much from people who had died so long ago.

Valter wasn't even alive at that point yet. And he was the second oldest entity in the kingdom.

"Should be around here..." Mira looked around as she continued to mutter to herself. In her hand was a set of notes with her hastily scrawled handwriting on it. Strangely enough, they were in English, so she was putting her new knowledge to good use. "Let's see..."

Reivan took a look at her notes, immediately knowing which book she wanted. It was one of the ones that royals had to know by heart, so he had no trouble finding it. With a lazy beckon, the book flew into his hand from a row so high up that a normal person required a ladder to reach it.

'Huh. This is newly transcribed.'

The hardcover looked a lot fresher than he remembered, so it must have been a renewed copy. Which made sense since it was a book that was perused a lot, making it more susceptible to wear and tear no matter how careful the readers were. His fingers fondly ran across the tome's spine, reminded of when he was still a young prince—well, a younger prince. The familiar texture also reminded him of how long it had been since he really hunkered down and read a few books. He had so little time for his old hobbies nowadays.

"Where the heck is it...?" Mira clicked her tongue. She still hadn't noticed his presence behind her or how he just sucked the book she was looking for into his hand. "Is it not here? Did I get it wrong? Damnit, it's all because they don't put up signs in this place... So inefficient..."

Reivan held in a snicker as he tapped her shoulder. Before she saw him, however, he immediately turned into a shadow and avoided her line of sight.

"Huh?" Mira's eyes widened when she realized nobody was behind her, so she turned around again. Then looked around at the areas below and above her. "Wh-who... Is anyone there?"

Sensing that she was starting to actually get scared, he materialized right in front of her and took the book she was looking for out of his spatial ring. Unlike the Spirit Tower's archives, the royal archives didn't enchant their books so they couldn't be put into a storage artifact.

Not the ones on the first floor, that is. The ones below, on the other hand, did.

"Relax," Reivan said. "It's just me."

"Oh." Mira sighed in relief for a moment before she frowned. "So it was you. Don't princes have better things to do that toy with innocent maidens?"

"Not this one, sadly. Toying with innocent maidens is my favorite pastime. Right up there with extorting hapless villagers of everything they have and scheming for world domination."

"I see. My horizons have been expanded today."

"A little prickly today, are we?" Reivan raised a brow and chuckled. He then tapped the book with his knuckles, directing her attention toward it. "Anyway, is this what you're looking for? I'll carry it for you."

"Who needs your help—" Mira took one look at the extremely thick book he was holding, her gaze lingering on the title and then the actual size. "Okay. That thing looks heavy."

"This particular year in our history was extremely eventful, you see."

“And you can just wave it around with one hand, huh?”

“I’m a little strong,” Reivan admitted with some shyness. It felt a bit weird to boast about his meager capabilities while knowing just what the people at the top were capable of.

Though he supposed he still retained some bragging rights. Considering how few in number Ascendants and Transcendents were in comparison to the population of the world, he was in the top percentile when it came to power.

The thing is, there was a massive gap in ability within that top percentile. A handful of people could solo the majority.

Some of his feelings must have leaked through in his demeanor because Mira didn’t retort. Which placed them in a bit of an awkward position because the conversation had stalled.

“Anway.” Reivan cleared his throat and changed the subject. “How long have you been skulking around in here?”

Mira snorted. “I don’t skulk.”

“Right. Fine. How long have you not been skulking around in here then?”

She grimaced at him but hummed in contemplation, seriously giving it some thought. It was clear in her expression that she wasn’t particularly sure of herself though. “Since dinner?”

Reivan scoffed in exasperation. “Mira, it is noon now. You’ve been here since last night?”

“That… That depends.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“If you look at it in a different way, I’m just early for today's session.”

Reivan shook his head. “You still suck at English, so don’t try to trick me with semantics.”

Mira clicked her tongue. “Why do you care anyway…?”

“I thought we had an understanding.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

With a sigh, Reivan stopped and pinned her against the wall. She squealed a little and shrunk into herself. But he glowered down at her anyway. “We had an agreement. That you’d take good care of yourself.”

“B-But I am…” Mira’s eyes swam, trying very hard to look anywhere but at him.

He didn’t need to see the notification to know she was lying. What’s funny was that the notification proved that she thought she wasn’t taking care of herself.

“Hunched over for hours,” Reivan drawled. “Sitting on the cold hard floor. Presumably skipping meals too. Is that your idea of taking care of yourself.?”

“Well…”

“If it is, how about I have your relatives live like that too? No beds or mats or chairs. Only two meals a day and a cold hard floor.”

Mira pursed her lips before quietly grumbling to herself. “That’s being unfair…”

“Maybe. What can you do about it though?” Reivan sneered, before stepping away from her and sighing. “There won’t be a second time, I hope.”

She nodded, her gaze lowered.

Seeing her look like a child who had just gotten scolded reminded Reivan of his little sister, Kyouka. That young lady hadn’t been the paragon of good behavior as a child either—which made sense since a child couldn’t possibly know how to properly act in every situation from the start.

With their parents gone, it had fallen on his younger self to scold his sibling. It generally went over well though, since Kyouka had been a rather obedient child. She’d rarely make the same mistake twice.

The woman before him was not a child though. And this wasn’t her first offense.

‘God. It feels like I have a teenage daughter…’

In a way, maybe dealing with Mira was good practice for parenthood. He was looking forward to seeing his kids a little too much.

Mira then cleared her throat, presumably to clear away her embarrassment. “Anyway, I was starting to think you’ve finally gotten bored of annoying me, but then you showed up today. Why are you here?”

“We’re in the Aizen Kingdom’s royal palace and I just happen to be a prince. I kind of live here, remember?”

“Let me rephrase that. Why are you here specifically? In this portion of this very very large palace.”

Reivan licked his lips and shrugged. “I have some news relevant to your current situation.”

That got her frowning fast. Mira hesitantly glanced up at him. “Am I…?”

“No, it’s not whatever you’re thinking,” he cut her off. “I’m sure you know that the republic has essentially ceased to function.”

“You’ve said something to that effect… though you said it was only a prediction.”

“The prediction has come true.”

Mira gulped. “Is it really that bad…?”

Reivan nodded gravely. “Only ten percent of Arkhan was directly affected by the fight with the Sage King. Then thirty percent of it was either damaged by fights between Argonia’s forces and the silver cloaks they were hunting down. That leaves the last sixty percent relatively unaffected—half of which, has already been converted into imperial protectorates. That said, a bunch of previously dead volcanoes became very active for some reason—presumably because of a Transcendent close with the element of fire having fought nearby—and now even the supposedly untouched sixty percent is being affected in some way.”

"Wha..."

"So basically, the entirety of the nation is suffering in some way."

“That much…!?”

“Unfortunately. Most of the untouched lands were in Western Arkhan while the south was devastated—with the capital left as nothing but a crater. Some of the areas between the former capital and what used to be Vel Ayala have been equally devastated too.”

“What about the north?” she asked, obviously concerned over her former homeland.

Reivan recalled the report he’d received from what little operatives were left within Arkhan. “As the border between the empire and the republic, the north was particularly saturated with silver cloaks. And they naturally resisted when the imperials showed up to claim their heads.”

Perhaps unconsciously, Mira’s right thumb found itself on her lips, chewing on her nail as she sunk into the mire of her own thoughts. Goodness knows what would have happened if her family hadn’t come with Reivan’s people during the attempt to extract them.

“What now?” she posited after some reflection. “What happens to the republic now?”

“Well…” Reivan tried very hard to think of ways to phrase his words without sounding too harsh. He knew that for how she acted, she actually loved her homeland enough to not even consider defecting. “You can’t really call it a nation anymore. Just a collection of cities disconnected from each other, ruled by their own local governments.”

“No. What I mean is what are you going to do about it?”

He did not miss the implication that “you” meant “the kingdom” rather than him as an individual. So he gave her as reasonable an answer as he could.

“We’re going to establish a vassal nation with Lageton as the capital,” Reivan said. “Well, it’s essentially a puppet state. But we're going to start it on a more peaceful note to avoid ruffling the people's feathers.”

“And how are you going to peacefully make a new country out of a fallen nation's people?”

“There’s going to be an election and I’m running.”

Mira’s brows shot up in surprise. “You?”

“Yes. Naturally, the election will be rigged,” Reivan shamelessly revealed.

“Oh, yeah. Because it’s perfectly ordinary and ethical to rig elections.”

“Of course. Nothing strange about that.  they are entirely dependent on the kingdom's aid at the moment. Also, the current governor is already in our pocket and a lot of companies that keep the place running are on my side.”

‘Well, rather than being on my side, Ouroboros owns them. So I and Elsa own them.’

After clearing his throat, he continued. “The city is more on the industrial side and depended on shipments from other areas for its food. That's not available now, sadly. And that means that Lageton and the surrounding areas will be dependent on the kingdom’s exports to survive. Even without rigging it, I will probably still win the election.”

Mira groaned in realization. “Because everyone who’s not an idiot will realize that they need you to win if they’re to survive…”

“Exactly. As we speak, the people of Lageton are being made aware that their peace is thanks to me.”

“Uh-huh… And then what?”

“Hm… Well, once I become governor, all that’s left is to declare independence and start a new nation—whose name is yet to be decided. Immediately after, martial law will be declared on account of the literal war that’s going on and the prospect of fending off Argonia’s clutches. From there, the newborn nation will transition away from democracy and be converted into a monarchy or something else that will allow us to do as we please. Because a bunch of politicians voting for every national decision is much too slow for what is about to happen to this continent.”

“Is it really okay to tell me all of this?”

“To be honest, it doesn’t really matter even if you tell other people.” Reivan shrugged. “We are the only choice the people of Lageton have now, Mira. Do you understand? The other option is to be left to fend for themselves, which I guarantee won’t last long. Or to submit to the empire—and you know what imperial warbands do to conquered territory as a reward to its soldiers, right?”

Biting her lip in utter frustration, Mira nodded. “I get it… You guys are the best option. Even if you’re partly to blame for all of this in the first place.”

Reivan let her pointed glare bounce off him. “We admit that the Sage King’s demise is partly our fault. And we also deserve some responsibility for the damage caused by the fight between Transcendents—even though Sir Rolf was the only one who purposely controlled his power to cause as little damage as possible. But the others? We are faultless. It is the empire that hunted down the silver cloaks. We tried to organize what is left of the battlemages and actually shelter them from annihilation.”

“Hmph.” Mira turned away but didn’t offer a retort.

“In any case…” Reivan hooked her chin and forced her to look at him before letting go. “I think your family would prefer living in Lageton as opposed to starting over here—even though I highly suggest just staying.”

“That’s…” she trailed off, clearly thinking about it. Only a few heartbeats passed before she nodded in agreement, however. “I think so too. Arkhan is our home.”

“Will you ask them for me? We’ll still compensate them for the assets they lost in your hometown, but the land will be near Lageton instead. Or some other nearby city, if they so prefer. Nearby towns and cities will likely be conquered by our side anyway.”

“I’ll ask…”

“Thanks. Anyway, that leaves you,” Reivan gestured at her. “What’ll you do? Are you staying here or will you come with me to Lageton?”

Hesitantly, Mira looked around the royal archives. There was so much knowledge stored in just his massive hall, ready to be absorbed. And she so wanted to do just that.

“I’ll go with you.”

However, she quickly came to an answer, a resolute expression on her face.

Reivan released the breath he hadn’t noticed was being held, asking a question to hide his relief. “To be honest, I thought you’d stay.”

She shook her head, looking down at the book he was carrying for her. “I’m here partly to sate my curiosity and to gather knowledge to advance Arkhan into the next age. But now, what Arkhan needs isn’t to improve, but to survive. And I can’t help with that if I’m all the way over here.”

“What do you plan to do to help, if I may ask? Any ideas?”

“Uh…” Mira groaned and scratched her head. “I think I’ll have to get back to you on that. Maybe a week from now.”

“So dependable.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“There we go.” Reivan chuckled. “Finally, a decent proposition.”

Realization struck her a moment later and she blushed as she furiously beat his shoulder in utter mortification. “You! Perverted! Scoundrel…!”

He continued laughing, completely unfazed by her attacks. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re coming with me.”

“Urgh…” She stopped hitting him, looking up to meet his gaze with those doe-like blue eyes of hers. “Why?"

"Because that's just how I feel. What do you want from me?"

"I think I know why. So you can have someone to toy with?" Mira looked at him with suspicion before lowering her voice in what he could only assume was a mocking impression of how he talked. "Oh, let's just be mean to the girl who can't fight back and who falls for the kissing prank all the time.”

“Maybe you're right.”

“Die.”

Reivan grinned, before suddenly bringing his face close and forcing her up against the shelf with nowhere to retreat. “Well, maybe I also just want you around? Maybe that's all there is to it.”

Mira tried to look away as she always did in these types of situations, but he hooked her chin and forced her to face forward again. “You’re too close…”

“Am I though? One can say we’re not close enough, no?”

She groaned, trying very hard to breathe quietly. “I h-heard, y’know? That you’re getting married by the end of the month…”

Reivan raised a brow at that, wondering where she heard it. The likely culprit would have been his sister, but it could have honestly just been the maids making idle conversation, unknowingly doing so when Mira was within earshot. In any case, it didn’t really matter to him if she knew. He had no intention of hiding it either, he simply didn’t have the chance to tell her.

“Is that a problem?” he asked, tilting his forehead forward so it touched with hers for a moment.

Mira squirmed but surprisingly didn’t make much of an effort to get away. “I’d… I’d like to think it’s a very big problem… Doing all this when you’re getting married soon…”

“Did you also hear that I’m going to have a whole bunch of concubines?”

“Yes—”

“Then this shouldn’t matter, no?”

“...Y-Y-You’re a piece of trash,” she said, her eyes narrowed in disdain for only a moment before he let go of her and stepped away again.

“Maybe that’s true.” Reivan chuckled, self-aware about how it may seem to other people. Though he supposed they weren’t that far off. “Anyway, good talk. I’ll leave you alone for now. Oh, and remember, talk to your family. And don’t spend all day here. Also, take care of yourself—or else.”

“You’d make a great mom. You've got the nagging part down pat.”

Ignoring her snide remarks, he tried to think of what else to say. It was when his gaze fell on the book he'd been holding did he realized something so obvious that it made him slap his forehead in exasperation.

Mira frowned as she looked at him like he had three eyes. “Wh-what’s wrong with you all of a sudden…? You've finally gone crazy or what?”

“I just remembered something.” Reivan took out one of his many spare spatial storage rings and extracted all the stuff he’d placed inside, replacing it with a few others—including the thick tome he had been carrying for her. He then seized her hand and pushed the ring into her palm. “I’m sure you know what this is.”

“It’s a ring,” she commented before her eyes shot upward in surprised realization. “It’s a spatial storage ring.”

“The highest class. It can probably store a few shelves.”

“Wah…”

“Remember? You promised to help me pick one out? Well, I don’t really need your help anymore. But here’s one anyway.”

“W-wait a minute, I’m pretty sure this stuff is super valuable.”

“It is.”

“Then—”

“Instead of sticking around here,” Reivan cut her off. “Just take what you want to read with you to your room. Ah, but make sure to return everything within the day in case someone else needs it and to only take, say, maybe five at a time. There are also a few armchairs that I like inside. Test ‘em out to see which you like. If you ever feel too lazy to go back to your room—which I know you will—just use them here. I’ll tell the lorekeeper that you’re free to take a chair out for yourself and borrow a few books.”

Mira seemed a little overwhelmed with all the special treatment she was getting. “You don’t have to do all that…”

“It’s okay. I want to.” Reivan smiled, gently grabbing her hand and giving it a bit of a squeeze before letting go. “I’ll see you around.”

She seemed to want to say something, so he waited for her. But in the end, she just went quiet and walked off to another aisle, presumably to find some other book. With his business with her finished, Reivan made his way out of the royal archives after a little chat with the new lorekeeper—who was apparently the previous lorekeeper’s grandson.

‘How nice. It’s like their family’s thing now.’

Musingly, he wondered if any of his kids were going to want to be like him too.

════════════════════════════════

Surprisingly, Reivan met a familiar face just as he stepped out of the archives.

“Hector,” he said, with mild surprise. The mild scent of cologne roiled off his best friend so it was clear as to what the young man’s purpose was. “Off to shag my sister, huh?”

“Can you not say it like that? Please?” Hector retorted. Noticeably, a denial did not follow. The bastard. “Besides, are you really one to talk? You’re doing it to my sister too! You’re even getting married soon!”

“...Good point.”

“Oh, but just to make it clear, it wasn’t like I was doing any of this to get back at you or anything.”

“I know, I know. You’re all lovey-dovey with Mimi, huh?”

Hector smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah. I fell really hard. Like, really hard.”

“Oh, yeah? How hard?”

“Ease up on the teasing, Van. Don’t forget all the crap I know about you. We grew up together, yeah?”

Sensing that he was on the back foot on this, Reivan immediately de-escalated. “Can you relax? It was a joke… though it ended up being real. Congratulations.”

Hector nodded and lightly punched his arm. “Yep. Thanks.”

Reivan swept back his hair as he regarded the dark-haired youth in front of him with a complicated gaze. “Still, I kind of expected it, but don’t you think you should’ve waited until after marriage to, y’know… get her pregnant? Her belly was bulging when I saw her!”

Nobody had seen fit to tell him while he was in Arkhan, but Mimi was two to three months pregnant. She was, like all warbeasts, fit and lithe so any changes to that were extremely noticeable. Obviously, he noticed her baby bump and was flabbergasted that nobody informed him of the pleasant news in advance.

She even acted smug about it. As if having babies was a competition or something.

‘And it was this guy who did it, no question.’

It wasn’t like his sister was a slut who slept around, so there was only one suspect—the young handsome knight she was always seen with and was allegedly in a relationship with.

Hector’s ears blushed crimson a little, averting his gaze. “I mean… She kept asking for it… It’s not my—okay, it is my fault. But still..! You get it, right? It’s really hard to refuse when you’re in the moment. Especially if they act all cute…”

“No, man. You’re on your own on this.” Reivan shook his head and raised both of his hands, denying the accusation. “I was able to stop myself until very recently. And that’s only because my wedding’s in a matter of weeks anyway.”

“Urgh…” Hector winced at the cutting words only to counter with his own. “This coming from someone who has two fiancees. And that doesn’t even include concubines.”

“Ugh…”

“And I heard he recently brought home some Arkhanian chick too.”

“Ugh…!” Reivan hastily gripped Hector’s shoulder to signal a temporary truce. “Stop. We’re friends. Why are we hurting each other?”

“True… So I definitely shouldn’t mention how there’s, like, a line of concubine applicants outside the palace right now.”

“I thought we agreed not to hurt each…!?” Reivan grabbed him by the neck.

But similarly to Helen, Hector could freely transform into the wind as well, easily escaping his attack with a confident grin.

‘And I was starting to put it out of my mind too…! This guy just had to remind me!’

Though he’d tried his best to escape the fact, Reivan could not deny that there was indeed a line of bachelorettes outside the palace hoping against hope to get an audience with him—and potentially become a concubine too.

Somehow, information that he was building a harem got out to the general public.

Due to his efforts in the past, he was relatively well-known and his portraits were all over the newspapers. Not to mention that he was a literal prince in a nation where the royalty may as well have been gods among men. There was the exhibition match where he fought three half-ascendants too.

So when the news that he was looking for concubines got out to the public, there was understandably some turmoil. Reivan, naturally, chose to respond to it in the most reasonable way—by pretending the problem didn’t exist.

Besides, his concubines-to-be had already been chosen. He’d even met most of them personally and found their personalities or demeanor decent enough.

While some were daughters of knights, a lot of them were actually from trustworthy families that had served national interests for generations. In Aizen, that meant a lot more than being well-connected. After all, despite being a monarchy, the kingdom had the tendencies of a meritocracy too—meaning if a family served the royal family for generations, that meant they were extremely capable. If he was going to marry for the sake of only having children, then he may as well make babies with women who had good genes.

Or at least, that was the reasoning he was told. There was probably some internal politics involved too, but the explanation made enough sense that Reivan didn’t mind it too much.

And besides, knowing what role he was supposed to play overseas after his marriage, Reivan found the idea of marrying all these women even more attractive. Not because of lascivious reasons, but because he valued the skills these women from various fields could offer.

Aside from mothering his kids, they could serve as his advisors and consultants, or outright help him manage things as part of his internal staff.

He got to help his mother and uncle revive his warbeast bloodline, receive a large influx of talented women who could help him in various ways, increase the chances that his kids wouldn’t be as dim as him, and obviously, the very fact that he’d get concubines out of it was a bit of a plus too.

It was like shooting down a bunch of birds with one stone.

With all that said, his concubines underwent rigorous selection processes before he even got to know about them. Not everyone could be trusted, after all. And too much ambition was a gamebreaker. The woman also had to have a relatively good personality so they didn’t serve as a bad influence on his children—who may or may not hold high authority in the future.

For his concubines, Reivan couldn’t just pick any random hot chick off the streets and call it a day.

Each one had to pass the various requirements to mother a member of the royal family.

‘Well, technically, my kids won’t be part of the royal family anymore.’

Reivan himself would forever be a prince. But that did not make his children princes. They would be commoners on paper, though obviously, they would be the type of commoners who had golden spoons shoved into their mouths upon birth.

None of his kids would have a claim to the throne, basically. Unless Roland and all his kids died all of a sudden—which hopefully never happened. In that scenario, Reivan would become king, and his progeny would become the main royal bloodline.

‘Ahhhh. I don’t wanna think about any of this.’

To most men, having hundreds or thousands of women literally lining up to offer themselves to him was a dream come true. But to Reivan, it was just a burden—not to mention actually accepting them all. In the first place, how much time would he even have to spend to knock up all those women? And the sheer volume of sex he would need to have was staggering. Because of his special abilities, he had infinite stamina so he could do it, theoretically, but that wasn’t the point.

Wouldn’t he be utterly sick of it if he did it that much? He’d never get turned on by a naked woman again, surely.

A terrifying thought.

‘My god… What if I loop around and become gay after having all that sex…!? Is that a thing? Does that actually happen!?’

“Oh, by the way,” Hector, the ungrateful wretch that reminded Reivan of his woes, punched his pal as if he’d just remembered something. “I think your mother’s gathering a bunch of warbeasts to be your concubine too. Did you know?”

Reivan sighed. “I did.”

That had been a suggestion on his part, actually.

His uncle and mother wanted to revive their warbeast bloodline. And though they probably wouldn’t have minded human children, accepting them with warmth the same way they accepted him, Reivan knew they would prefer warbeast children.

And according to Zell, a half-breed like him was an anomaly. Also because of her, he actually knew the chances when two people from two different humanoid species procreated.

Basically, there was a 30% chance it turned out as the father’s race and a 70% chance of being the mother’s. He didn’t even know how the chances got fucked if one of the participants was a half-breed—Reivan, in particular.

That meant that to satisfy his mother and uncle, Reivan was better off focusing on coupling with other warbeasts. Since the exact chances weren’t public knowledge, his mother and uncle were obviously quite ecstatic about it, amending the plans. It would have been rude to cancel all the arrangements he’d made with all the human concubine candidates though, so they kept those around anyway—more kids wouldn't hurt.

The only problem was explaining away how he knew such information. But he managed to cobble together enough bullshit to make them shrug it off.

In any case, there would likely be more warbeast concubine candidates than human ones. They would obviously be taken from the Terracatta Clan, which was the clan that Mimi and Jiji came from. It felt a bit strange, coupling people who may or may not be related to his adopted sisters. But so be it.

And besides, maybe there wouldn’t be many warbeast women volunteering. He was quite sure his mother wouldn’t go as far as to threaten them or anything like that. Being recent additions to the kingdom, the Terracatta Clan didn’t think that highly of the royal family when compared to the populace.

Surely, there would be less of a reaction than the long conga line of women Reivan was trying to forget about. He’d already sent word to inform them all that he was no longer looking, but they persisted for some reason. As if he was just testing their willpower or something. Did they think he'd show up any time now and say it was all a prank?

“Agh, my fucking head…” Reivan massaged the bridge of his nose as he wondered how to disperse the line without resorting to drastic measures or showing himself.

After all, it wasn’t as if these girls were being disruptive or mean. He couldn’t just call the Peacekeepers to shepherd them away if they really wanted to wait outside the palace.

“Hey,” Hector draped his arm over Reivan’s shoulders. “At least you have me around.”

To that, Reivan could only roll his eyes.

“Lucky me.”

Arc#5 Chapter 4: A Helping Hand

With a sigh, Reivan turned to the anxious darkin, still halfway into prostration once again. A lofty Ascendant, bowing to three mortals. What a time to be alive.

“The Outlands are profoundly expansive, Lady Iselle," Reivan said, trying hard not to sound too dismissive. He was on their side after all, but he was also on the kingdom's side in that he wanted to lower the risks to the knights. "How would we go about finding them? You've shared that your clan is a nomadic one. That will make things much harder, no?”

It was said in passing earlier, that one of the ways their tribe survived in the Outlands was to be on the move constantly.

Apparently, they could see thrice as far as humans even in the Outlands. Ascendant darkin could perceive things around ten times as far as an Ascendant knight—barring knights with special loopholes that helped extend their perception range like Dame Lamorak. And though they loathed it, they even built hovels underground to hide, staying there for a few weeks at a time. Even the mortal members of their species could fly, so traveling was relatively manageable.

'They're like migratory birds. Except they migrate every few days instead of, y'know, every few seasons.'

With all their innate advantages, the darkin could sustain a nomadic lifestyle in the Outlands. That probably meant that they had no permanent base or stronghold to retreat to, nor did they have a set rendezvous point if part of their tribe got separated. As such, even if the kingdom wanted to help the other darkin, it would be a perilous undertaking that could possibly result in catastrophic losses. Finding Iselle and the others had just been a matter of luck, after all.

Aizen was practical in that it didn't expect luck to favor them a second time.

The main reason why the recent operation even got the go-ahead was because the kingdom spent months scouting out a route and investigating clues presumably left behind by the darkin. There was a trail to follow, in other words. And only after extensive investigation did the kingdom feel safe enough to send a force of a hundred knights out in search of... something. Anything, really.

Because of that, they found what they didn't know they were looking for.

It was just extremely unsafe to try again, given how the party got attacked by a horde of Ascendant nightmare spawns on the way back. No knights died, but the situation had just gotten a lot riskier than before they departed. Fumbling about in the Outlands without knowing which way they needed to go made it even more so. Furthermore, if the darkin was being chased by a horde of Ascendant nightmare spawns, they obviously wouldn't leave behind a trail of breadcrumbs for the knights to follow—it would be nigh-impossible to track them as they did before.

'Plus, if her tribe really had a Transcendent, then the fact that they were placed on the backfoot means...'

That they were faced by a Transcendent spawn. Perhaps the horde was the Transcendent Nightmare Spawn's doing, in fact.

A very dangerous situation indeed.

“I am of the matriarch bloodline.” Iselle feebly spoke, looking up at them. She had undoubtedly noticed their reluctance to take the risk of helping the darkin. “I have an innate sense of where my kin are... though only in the general direction. It has felt a bit strange after coming to this world, but I'm confident I'll be able to rejoin with the others... Naturally, I am resolved to accompany any attempt. My people and I can serve as the vanguard or a distraction should retreat for your forces be necessary.”

King Roland turned to his brother questioningly, prompting Reivan to nod. There were no lies so far.

“If your warriors and your mother were so powerful,” Jiji said, raising a brow. There was no edge to her tone, just pure curiosity. It was very different from how she talked to Helen, Mira, and Elsa. “How did you, the equivalent of a princess, get separated to the extent that you almost died? I would have liked to think that you’re high on the list of targets to protect.”

“It is because the others and I were foraging for food when it happened. We were taken by surprise and had to flee in whatever direction ensured a greater chance at survival."

‘Well, that kind of makes sense.’

Reivan hadn't asked what the darkin ate in all their years roaming the Outlands, but he could imagine it wasn't easy to procure whatever it was. Doing so probably demanded them to risk their lives constantly. And they likely couldn't afford to pass up any opportunity to do so.

"As long as we live and someone from the matriarch bloodline is nearby, the group can always regroup with the main flock," Iselle continued. "Unfortunately, it seems the main flock also came under attack, so we couldn't rejoin them. Mother must have used her special technique...”

"Special technique?" Jiji echoed questioningly.

Iselle glanced at each of their faces before nodding. "Mother can manipulate space to a certain extent... Though I haven't the foggiest idea how it works. She can teleport herself and even the entire tribe with her if she must. Though it takes a lot out of her."

Roland and Jiji said nothing, but Reivan was sure they both believed her. If the darkin matriarch was truly a Transcendent, then doing something like that was par for the course. The kingdom had an Ascendant that could do that, for crying out loud. And the Sword Star naturally could too.

Their silence must have stoked Iselle's anxiety, however, because she prostrated once again. "Please help us. And if you will not, then I implore you to allow at least myself to go back."

"Aizen welcomes your kind, Lady Iselle," Roland said with a small smile that hid whatever it was he truly felt. "And we would like to aid you in any way we can. But our knights... our warriors are very important to us as well. Please understand that we wish to lessen the risks to their wellbeing as much as we can, even if circumstances sometimes force us to send them somewhere dangerous."

"I do." She looked up and nodded gravely. "It is the same for us."

"That's good. Then you understand that even if we were to help, we would still need to make our own preparations, yes?"

"Of course." The darkin woman nodded again. "Just the fact that you are considering it means a lot to us. We already feel thankful that you are willing to accept us into your world."

Roland smiled and sighed. "Then I think we'll end our talks here for today. We must deliberate on how we will respond to your plight. But please be assured that we are on your side on this matter."

Iselle gracefully stood up and smiled before closing her eyes as she bowed. "Thank you for your kindness. Please do not hesitate to summon me if you need me. For anything."

The three royals watched quietly as the beautiful winged woman flew off into the sky as a pleasant breeze swept through where she had once been.

Scratching his head, Reivan turned to his brother. “I think we should help."

"Was that ever a question?" Jiji grinned at him, playing with a few strands of her beautiful white hair. "They have a Transcendent. Taking them in and fostering gratitude is a no-brainer. Rather, we will benefit greatly from this. All our problems might go away upon success. We can even break that treaty with Argonia outright—Sentorale would belong to the crown without question. Then we can turn our attention east..."

'Well, my purposes weren't as calculating, but sure. Let's go with that.'

Roland looked at them both and shrugged, his gaze finally falling on their sister. "Bringing in a Transcendent may be a boon to us, but it may also be a seed of conflict. It is naive to think that someone will feel grateful if you help them. And even if they do feel gratitude, that doesn't necessarily translate into peaceful coexistence."

"I agree." Jiji nodded before divulging her thoughts. "But we can simply make their kind dependent on us. We are, after all, their only point of connection with this world. How about instead of teaching them English, we learn their language instead? That way, they wouldn't be able to communicate with other factions without us. If they choose to strike out on their own anyway, Argonia will be on their case, not to mention how every other faction in the world won't even consider negotiating with them. They'll be utterly isolated in a world where alliances between factions with Transcendents exist. More likely than not, it'll be the second coming of the Sage King, beaten down like a dog by sheer numbers."

For a moment, Reivan couldn't help but marvel at the manipulative woman his sister turned out to be. It was kind of scary but he couldn't help but be a little proud. How in the world did she turn out that way? Sure not because she was mistreated by the royal family. Hadn't they showered her with love and care? Yet she still turned out this way when he wasn't looking.

Truly, kids grow up fast if you look away for even a moment. He'd make sure to pay attention to his own children in the future.

'In this case, it's advantageous for us though. But I don't know how to feel about this...'

On one hand, he was relieved that his sister probably wouldn't be scammed into anything. But on the other hand, he didn't think having such a twisted mind was a good thing.

"Hm. That's what I thought too," Roland said, not looking particularly impressed by Jiji's insights. Almost as if he had expected her to think the same way as he did. "But assuming they're not idiots, they'll realize what we're aiming for. Our intentions would leak through and that would sour relations. And besides, our dearest brother over here has already ensured that hundreds of darkin already know English—it's a bit too late to deprive them of our language."

"Oh, I’m so sorry.." Reivan rolled his eyes upon receiving the blaming gazes of his siblings, though he knew they weren't actually serious. "How'd you expect us to communicate with them if I hadn't?"

Jiji shrugged. “Maybe just infusing the meaning of what you want them to do into the pearl you gave them instead of the entire language? Tell them you want one of them to temporarily deposit the knowledge of their language into the pearl.”

After that, Roland also put in his two cents. “We could have also not used the pearls at all. Tasking scholars to learn their language slowly was an option too. It’s not as if it couldn’t be done. That’s what we did with the Sutherim orcs. Despite how difficult it was, communication was still established.”

“That’s…” Reivan licked his lips and frowned. “Okay. I didn’t think of that.”

His siblings shared a look and they both smiled.

“Don’t worry, Yani.” Jiji clapped his shoulders and stood up. “We love you anyway.”

Roland bobbed his head and stood up as well. “That’s right, brother. You're wonderful just the way you are.”

“I hate both of you…” Reivan sighed and also stood up. “I think both of your ways are too cumbersome though. The first one has the unnecessary risk of coming off as unwelcoming of their kind. The second one just takes a crap ton of time. I still think I was right in doing it my way.”

“I suppose you have a point.” Roland hummed and ruffled Reivan’s hair. “But the fact of the matter is, you didn’t think there were other ways. That has limited our options now.”

To that, Reivan could only groan as his elder brother ruined the hair he’d spent an entire minute setting.

‘Can’t really argue about that…’

Not really wanting to inflict mental self-harm, Reivan changed the subject. “If we do end up sending a party out to find the rest of the darkin, I should probably go, no?”

“Absolutely not,” Jiji immediately replied. "Yani, are you crazy? You really only think with your..."

Roland was also against it, letting go of him and grabbing him by the shoulders instead. “It would be far too dangerous for you to go. You have many responsibilities to handle here, not to mention your marriage. And Mother wouldn’t even hear it.”

Somewhat expecting that he’d be against everyone on this, Reivan shrugged. “But I’m the only one unaffected by the Outlands’ fog. I’d be extremely useful for finding stuff in there.”

“This is an Ascendant level undertaking, Yani.” Jiji rolled her eyes. “No matter how good your eyes are, you wouldn’t be able to see an Ascendant coming from any distance unless they stood around like an idiot before attacking. Last I heard, nightmare spawns weren’t polite enough for that.”

“It is out of the question until you reach the next realm,” Roland chimed in. “Which won’t be happening any time soon. Not because your talent is in doubt, but rather, because Ascendence prevents you from performing one of your other duties. Remember?”

“No, Yani has to be a Transcendent first.” Jiji looked to the king of Aizen and shook her head. “There are Transcendents running around out there. The expedition this time was just fortunate enough not to have met any. But remember, the developments Lady Iselle shared earlier imply there was one, otherwise, her clan's matriarch wouldn't have fled and simply annihilated the horde of Ascendant nightmare spawns. Additionally, the Sword Star fights one every once in a while, so it isn't beyond the realm of possibility to meet after straying too far.”

Reivan raised his hands up in both surrender and exasperation. “Alright, alright. I get it. I’m sorry. Didn’t expect both of you to go off on me like that. I feel so loved.”

“If you spout nonsense like that again,” Jiji harrumphed, crossing her arms across her chest and turning away. “I’m telling mom.”

“You wouldn’t dare…”

“I would.”

"We're adults, no? Shouldn't we keep our parents out of this?” Reivan bit his lip and spat. “When did you grow up to be so nasty?"

The catty princess snorted, glaring at him with disdain. “When I realized my Yani is a womanizing man-whore who brings home a different woman every time he leaves home for more than a month.”

“That’s not…”

Just as Reivan was about to deny the accusations, he suddenly had to stop and think for a second. Because she wasn’t exactly wrong.

Having just watched their little verbal spar with a grin, Roland finally clapped his hands and drew their attention back to the matter at hand. “Anyway, the matter of the darkin will have to be put aside for now. Far to the side. With a Transcendant running around somewhere, setting out immediately is dangerous, to say the least. Both of you will just have to focus on your current assignment: the creation of a vassal nation with Lageton as the capital.”

“Fine…” Reivan nodded and was just about to leave it at that, but he was suddenly struck with inspiration. “Wait. Didn’t we have one free request for the Gladiator King? The one that I won for us by negotiating away the technology for the trains and the rights for running a transportation system?”

Jiji clicked her tongue and couldn’t help but mutter. “Damnit, he caught on…”

“That was one of the ways I was considering, yes.” Roland nodded, smiling proudly. It seemed he was glad that Reivan made good use of his brain. “But it’s a very important card for us if we ever come into conflict with Argonia. You know that too, right?”

“I do…” Reivan licked his lower lip in thought. “But still.”

“Why do you want to help them so much anyway?” Jiji frowned at him. “Is it because their entire race is composed of beautiful women? You want to add an entire race to your harem, is that it? I can’t believe you!”

“I didn’t say all that! I had no intention of doing so! Where are all these allegations coming from!?”

“Psh. Wouldn’t put it past you, Yani. You’re an irredeemable horndog!”

“You little…” Reivan clenched his fist, already imagining how he was going to teach this brat a lesson. The most intense noogie in history was about to unfold but was stopped by his brother.

“Alright, break it up.” Roland, again, clapped his hands to force them both back on topic. He then turned to Reivan with a raised brow. “Though you exchanged something owned by the kingdom for it, ultimately, the exchange wouldn’t have happened at all if it weren’t for you. So I won’t go against whatever you decide to use the Gladiator King on. Are you sure you want to use it for the darkin?”

Reivan thought back to the favor Zell asked. Truly, if it hadn’t been for that cosmic horror disguised as a woman, Reivan wouldn’t even be here. He’d be dead, swallowed by oblivion that lasted for eternity, right after living an unsatisfying life where all he could do was be a burden.

Then he thought back to the darkin. It wasn’t their fault that their world suddenly became like that. To them, they were living peaceful lives until fate decided to douse them in boiling hot shit for no apparent reason. The world they knew collapsed, and a bleak reality replaced it.

Was that not similar to his own circumstances?

As Reivan laid on that lonely hospital bed, looking up at the same ceiling he'd stared at for more than a decade, he remembered wishing for someone—anyone—to help him.

It didn’t have to be god. Hell, it could have been the devil and he would have gladly taken their hand. So long as it was anything but his sister or Hanzo, he was ready to give up anything and everything.

Yet, no one came until the very end.

This time, he could be the help that someone out there was desperately wishing for. The hand in the dark, the silver string that would lead them out of hell.

A hero.

Well, there were probably a lot more people in similar situations. And if he looked hard enough, he could find them—especially given the recent tragedy that has befallen what used to be Arkhan. But helping the darkin satisfied his desires and served as completing a favor for someone he owed tremendous gratitude to.

Even Zouros wanted to help out the darkin, so another reason to help was added.

“I’m sure.” Reivan turned to his brother. “I want to help them out as much as we’re allowed.”

“Alright.” Roland smiled at him and chuckled. “With your recent accomplishments and the responsibilities you’ve willingly taken up recently, I’m not shameless enough to refuse at this point. Seeing as your future office is closer to the Gladiator King, you do the negotiations when it is convenient for you. It’ll have to be after the wedding. You owe it to everyone to wait until after that.”

“Hm. Alright.”

“Is it really okay?” Jiji asked, the uncertainty in her voice clear. “We’ll have to reveal the portal’s existence to the Star of Fortune if we want to enlist the Gladiator King’s help.”

“It matters little at this point.” Roland nonchalantly rolled his wrist. “Saintess Frey has been diligently expressing her desire to aid in the reinforcement of the defenses around the portal. She has even agreed to spend time and infuse… I don’t know what to call it. Hymns? She sings and things light up and become stronger for some reason. It didn't make sense to me, but it happened anyway. Anyway, the Sage King is gone so the only hostile Transcendent that would want to use the portal’s existence against us is the War God.”

“The Star of Fortune are merchants though,” Jiji reminded him. “They go to the highest bidder.”

“They wouldn’t unleash an unlimited amount of horrors on the continent for any amount of coin. They're not fools.”

“True… It’d be bad for business and they wouldn’t have the capacity to endure the fallout. Every other Transcendent on the continent is going to be out for their blood. Maybe infighting will happen too, as is the case for profiteering enterprises.”

Roland turned to Reivan again. “During the negotiations, try to frame it as if the portal is everyone’s problem—not just ours. It’s true, so you wouldn’t even be lying. We soak up most of the risk, so it is in their best interest to ensure our attention isn’t diverted into anything but the portal. For all our sakes.”

“Duly noted.” Reivan nodded resolutely, making a mental note reminding him to tell Gwen afterward. With the heavy topic somewhat settled, the lighter ones started to resurface in his mind. “Are we seriously just going to house them in the Sanctum?”

“It’s convenient for us because there are an endless number of eyes present here to watch them.” Roland tilted his head and hummed in thought. “But it does feel wrong in all sorts of ways. They're guests and we're just letting them rough it out in the woods.”

“I know, right?” Reivan agreed, noticing that Jiji also made a noise of affirmation.

The Sword Sanctum technically referred to the set of structures near the top of the mountain, serving as the home of the Sword Star and housing countless caves where Ascendants meditated in an attempt to reach Transcendence. Mortals often went into seclusion there when they tried to Ascend as well.

But in actuality, people included the entire mountain as the Sword Sanctum in their hearts. That included the sea of trees leading up to the top, each one symbolizing a knight that had either fallen in the line of duty or died of old age after failing Ascendence.

It was, in many ways, a very special place to the knighthood and the royal family.

Housing a group of people who weren’t knights there was… strange, to say the least. It wasn’t unpleasant nor would anyone act like a "Karen", clamoring for the darkin to make themselves scarce. But all the same, the darkin shouldn’t stay there. Aizen kingdom was all about practicality, but some things couldn’t be waved away—they had to be treated with the gravitas they deserved.

The Sword Sanctum was one of them.

It was a place that housed heroes of the past, inspired the warriors of the present, and awaited the fallen of the future.

“Any ideas?” Roland turned to him with a raised brow.

At that question, Reivan could only shrug. “I mean, I can’t really suggest anything when I barely know anything about them. I’d suggest the Wolf’s Jaw, but who knows? They might be uncomfortable with some other aspect of the place I’m not aware of. Not to mention the place overlooks the Grey Wastes, so it’s not a place I’d want civilians to live in.”

Roland grunted. “The Jaw acts as a military facility, so it’s out of the question anyway.”

“Right. There’s that too.”

“Let’s suggest the Undercities regardless,” Jiji suggested. “You never know. They might be okay with it. Just as an alternative. I’ll talk to them and try to learn more about their culture. That’ll help us decide.”

“Now that’s what I wanted to hear.” Roland chuckled. “Can I leave this to you? You have your own duties, after all.”

“Not as much as you, Your Majesty. But it won’t be a problem.” She smirked, twirling a few strands of her hair around her finger. “In fact, I can use the excuse of our new citizens to escape a number of social calls I’m supposed to do.”

“Ah. The truth is finally revealed.”

Reivan raised his hand. “Me. I wanna get to know the darkin too.”

“You stay away from them, Yani.” Jiji glared him down. Far from being intimidating though, she just looked adorable. “I don’t want you getting any of them pregnant when I’m not looking.”

“What the hell?” Reivan’s jaw slackened, aghast at the accusation. “You say that like I push every woman I see down. And they reproduce by laying eggs so I can’t even get them pregnant even if I tried!”

‘...Hm? Now that I think about it, they didn’t explicitly state they couldn’t do that. Wait, no, no, no. It doesn’t matter if they could because I’m not gonna try!’

“You’re getting married in less than a month,” Jiji said, looking at him as if he was a clump of sewer sludge that had grown a pair of eyes and a mouth. “And you want to chat up a race composed only of women? How do you think your wife will feel about this?”

Reivan’s shoulders twitched. He couldn’t deny her words at all. Honestly, his interest in the darkin was entirely innocent, but others wouldn’t necessarily perceive it that way.

‘I mean… They’re fallen angels, for crying out loud! How can I not be interested in them?’

All weebs underwent a phase where they thought fallen angels were the height of coolness. Hell, Reivan still thought fallen angels were awesome. The black wings that sprouted from their lower back, crimson eyes that shared the color of blood, and just their general aesthetic were amazing.

It just awakened that edge lord within him that he’d beaten down and kicked to the very back of his psyche at some point.

Maybe he’d be too embarrassed to be a fallen angel or even dress up as one. But the darkin had nothing to be embarrassed about because being fallen angels was their reality… except they probably were an entirely different race, not divine servants that fell from grace.

He wouldn’t sweat the details though.

In any case, real-life fallen angels were right there. How could he not want to learn more about them? Naturally, he’d want to. They could have been an all-men race and he would have still felt the same.

‘Ah, well… I won’t deny that they’re nice to look at though. Especially Lady Iselle. But that’s beside the point!’

Saying it out loud would also incriminate him, so he justifiably kept that sealed.

“Well, what’s the harm?” Roland secretly winked at him, being the best brother ever. “He’s probably bored, having nothing to do all day.”

“Shouldn’t he help out with the wedding preparations though?” Jiji raised a brow, her arms crossed under her chest.

“Everything is perfect already,” Reivan robotically insisted. “So I would just ruin it if I tried to do anything.”

“Uh-huh.” She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Let's not pretend as if you just think it's a pain in the ass.”

“Anyway, I’m coming too, and that’s that.”

“...Fine. But only if I’m around. I don’t have to explain how bad it’ll look if you associate with a race composed only of women too much, right? Leading up to your wedding too.”

Reivan begrudgingly nodded. He saw no problem in that arrangement anyway, though he was a bit miffed at the treatment he was receiving. He did admit that he deserved some of it, given how many women he was involved with—both romantically and physically.

‘...Okay, yeah. I deserve it.’

There were just so many that his face heated up in shame if he even tried to deny it. And he was supposed to be good at lying too. His reputation was so horrible that his ability couldn't help him cover it up anymore, not even activating when he denied accusations.

“Well, that’s settled.” Roland clapped both of them on the shoulder with a smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. There’s a steadily increasing pile of work on my desk. Every minute, another document of some kind is added to the pile.”

“Understandable.” Jiji shrugged. “A lot of your staff is going to move over to the vassal state after all. Lots of rearranging, I assume?”

The king shook his head. “Not much of a problem on that front. The academic school year has just ended, so there are a lot of scholars fresh out of the college. I just pulled out a few veterans to teach them here and on-site.”

Reivan listened in as best as he could, but matters of bureaucracy were just extremely boring to him. Which was why he was so glad his sister was coming along.

She loved that stuff. Probably.

After that, Roland went off to return to his neverending battle against domestic affairs like he usually did and Jiji left to apparently train up the newly minted ministers he would be bringing with him overseas. Gwen was also recruiting her own set of personnel, but the more the merrier. One could never have enough internal staff, especially considering how he’d probably be conquering additional territory in the name of the yet-to-be-named nation he was supposed to lead.

Chatting with the darkin would have to be left for tomorrow. The winged beauties were undoubtedly tired and it would be incredibly rude to disturb them. Poor things deserved some peace and quiet.

As such, Reivan went off and tried to find something to occupy himself with.

‘Ah. It’s about time for me to go check on Mira.’

And tell her that she and her family could probably go back to living in Arkhan, though at a different location given how their previous hometown was probably an imperial protectorate now.

He didn’t know how she’d react to being pulled away from the royal archives though.

Arc#5 Chapter 3: A Desperate Plea

Before the short amount of time needed to activate the pearl of wisdom's power ran out, Reivan was suddenly met with the embrace of a woman he'd only met today.

That was strange. Usually, he had to take girls out on expensive dates or say a few witty pick-up lines before he got to that stage.

'What...'

Reivan tried to replay what happened in his mind, trying to see where things went awry.

First, he approached the group of darkin. The actions of the surrounding knights made it obvious that he was of some importance, so if they interpreted him as the faction's representative, then they were correct.

After that, an important person from the darkin's side stepped forward. Which made sense if they really thought Reivan was the human representative. Nothing was wrong up to this point.

Next, the darkin's representative suddenly prostrated. He didn't know if that meant anything other than begging or apologizing in darkin culture, but Reivan interpreted her actions as a plea for aid. The darkin didn't exactly have a secure place to stay and—assuming they ate—a steady supply of food along with them. They were in obvious need of help, and the kingdom wouldn't have looked for them if it wasn't prepared to provide at least that much.

Reivan's obvious response to this would be to help her up with his best attempt at a reassuring smile. With any hope, it was interpreted as him accepting their request.

'Hm. Is that what went wrong?'

Since it was the prime opportunity to do so, Reivan went ahead and tried to use the pearl of wisdom to teach Iselle—the darkin who was currently embracing him for Sormon knew what reason—the English language. That way, they could actually communicate with each other. Because as a wise man once said, communication was key. They wouldn't get anywhere without it.

The result of that had been his current situation.

'Alright, Rein. That's what you did wrong... Hm. Is it really wrong though? Isn't this kind of a good outcome? Hugs don't necessarily have to be lewd. I hug my brother and parents all the time! I even hugged my uncle just a while ago.'

Reivan nodded to himself, awkwardly returning the darkin woman's embrace. Certainly, hugs weren't a bad thing. Maybe it was just his mind being unnecessarily dirty. Hugging little girls sounded wrong, but it was a completely innocent thing when it was him doing it to his adorable little nieces. Those little rascals were just so huggable, after all.

He didn't know if it was true, but some Western countries on modern Earth treated hugs and kisses like handshakes. Maybe this was that kind of thing.

'Yeah. That must be it. Let's go with that.'

Besides, they'd been hugging for almost half a minute now. And that meant this young lady's head was about to be stuffed with the king's English.

Everything would work itself out eventually.

Iselle the clingy darkin looked up with a small smile and said something in a language he didn’t know, almost causing him to reflexively nod to pretend as if he understood. Thankfully, he stopped himself in time. God knows what she was asking, so he couldn't just agree. What if she was asking for him to sell his soul in exchange for peanuts or something equally absurd? He would be cooked beyond belief.

As expected, she seemed confused as to why he wasn’t answering. And just as he was about to say something, her eyes widened as her brows shot up.

‘Yep. It finally hit, huh?’

The pearls of wisdom had seen extensive experimentation since he sent most of them off to the kingdom some time ago. And by now, everyone was sure there was no pain or headache to be felt after an infusion of knowledge. Just a strange sense of confusion—a feeling as if you already knew about all of it a long time ago, even if you clearly did not.

Still, Reivan waited for some time to pass before speaking to her. “Can you understand me now?”

“I… yes…” Iselle answered, a bit dazed. "Though I do not know why..."

Her accent was strange, probably because she was using different parts of her vocal cords or something. That was how it was when Japanese people tried to learn English. Both he and Kyouka had a lot of trouble with that crap when they were young.

“I see. That’s wonderful news.” Reivan smiled, letting his hands dangle even as he was tightly embraced. “If so… and I mean no disrespect whatsoever, can you let go of me now?”

“Oh, certainly…” Iselle acquiesced, backing away a step or two, her beautiful black wings gently folding into themselves.

‘Those seem really soft. Wonder how they feel? I kinda wanna touch them…’

He’d wait a while before he asked, however. Past stories he read and watched often had a trope where a winged race’s wings were sexually sensitive organs or at least something only touched by family. Or partners. With his wedding coming up, he was paying extra attention to how he interacted with the fairer sex.

"Ehem." Reivan cleared his throat to psyche himself up and get his mind out of the gutter. “In any case, let me introduce myself. My name is Reivan Aizenwald. But you can just call me Reivan, for simplicity’s sake. I am the Aizen Kingdom’s second prince. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

‘Well, actually, now that my brother’s king, I suppose you can say I’m the nation’s first prince now...Or does that title go to my nephew?’

In any case, he considerately let the darkin refer to him without titles and all that pompous mumbo jumbo. Though they’d just learned English, that was just the language. Knowledge of culture and the appropriate gravitas of the world’s ruling class wasn’t included in that. Not extensively, anyhow.

It would be downright idiotic of him to expect that of them. And besides, Reivan wasn’t really the type of person who cared about that kind of thing.

Respect was shown. Not just spoken. He valued the former more than the latter.

“Ah, I’m named Iselle,” she said as she joined her arms in front of her navel and bowed. “And I’m… Uh…”

Reivan patiently waited, thinking that she was probably having trouble translating something in her language to English. Actually, it wouldn’t be strange if there was no equivalent word for some of the things she wanted to say.

After a few moments of thought, Iselle shook her head and bowed again. “I am the daughter of our clan’s matriarch. I offer greetings to the prince. I am sorry if I am speaking strangely…”

He shook his head. “There’s no problem at all. You're doing really well so far.”

“Thank you for your understanding… Uhm, may I ask what happened? I suddenly knew a language I've never known…”

Reivan hesitated for a moment, thinking if he really had to explain the nature of the pearls. But then decided they wouldn’t get anywhere if he was too stingy with explanations. “It’s the pearl you hold in your hand. It has the power to teach our language to those who hold it for a certain amount of time.”

Iselle’s brows shot upward as her gaze lowered to her hand. “How extraordinary…”

“Yes. With this, our people can communicate with each other. I understood nothing of our earlier interaction, so I’m actually wondering why you suddenly hugged me…”

“Oh! Yes.” The darkin lady nodded. “It is because our meeting has been prophesied. And I recognized you as the Destined Savior.”

“Eh? Destined Savior…?”

“Yes.”

“What even is that… Or rather, how are you sure it was me?”

Iselle smiled at that, holding her joined hands to her chest. “Our god, The Desolate One, granted our matriarch with a prophecy. A prophecy that our salvation will be delivered by a young human with white hair and golden eyes. And that he would have a serpent with wings as a companion.”

“Oh my god. That definitely sounds like me…”

‘So I didn’t just accidentally propose to someone? Well, that’s a good thing, but…’

Reivan’s mind spun at her words, and he realized that a certain Archon—who had been the one to tell him about the darkin—must have done something to smoothen the process of saving them. Certainly, telling them he was coming would eliminate a lot of their barriers, thereby making it easier to help them. No dancing around doubt and belief.

“I had thought it was that gentleman at first.” Iselle respectfully nodded toward his Uncle Viktor, who was standing to the side with the intention of having nothing to do with this. “But he isn’t human. And the age also doesn’t match.”

Viktor’s cheek twitched at her words but he couldn’t necessarily refute. Though he didn’t look his age, he still couldn’t be called “young” anymore. It was most definitely his height and the stubble on his face though. He could probably pass as a particularly buff man in his early twenties if he took the effort.

The knights all around them were naturally listening but none had the gall to openly tease one of Aizen’s strongest knights about it.

Except for Reivan and a lady who looked suspiciously similar to Stella and the House Mercer’s matriarch.

“Puhaha!” Reivan laughed, slapping his knee just to annoy his uncle extra hard. “Well, certainly. He doesn’t really match the description. That man is my uncle, if you must know. He is more than four times my age.”

Iselle must not have noticed anything strange in the air because she merely nodded, throwing another glance at his uncle. “Me and my people have much to thank him for. I have bore witness to his bravery in battle. Naturally, the other warriors too.”

“Heard that, everyone?” Reivan looked around, his arms spread wide. “Yet again, they praise Aizen’s valor.”

A smattering of “Hear hear!” and various other exclamations followed his words, and the mood was generally celebratory. Which made sense because all of these people had just spent months in undisputedly the most unfriendly place in the world—they were ecstatic to be back home.

“We have plenty to talk about,” he said, turning back to Iselle. “But we can do that in a more… comfortable place. Would you mind telling your people to follow us into that portal over there? Even if it may look dangerous, I swear it isn't.”

Iselle turned a suspicious glance at said portal, biting her lip in hesitation. After a bit of thought, she sheepishly bowed to Reivan. “My apologies if I sound overly doubtful. But the other parts of the prophecy have yet to be confirmed…”

Reivan raised a brow and thought back to what she said earlier.

He was young. A human too, though just partly. Also, he had white hair and a pair of golden eyes that all warbeasts shared.

‘...Ah. Right. How could I forget?’

With a bit of a mental nudge, the oldest companion in his soul roused from its light slumber, manifesting into reality as a giant obsidian serpent that could easily wrap itself around mountains. Golden eyes with slits down the middle domineeringly bore down on them all from above.

Reivan unconsciously whistled, looking up at Zouros. It had been some time since he let his favorite danger noodle out and about in full size, but he still noticed how much bigger it had gotten.

Which was strange since his Might didn’t increase at all, even though his partner was so much more intimidating now. It hadn't moved since years ago, staying at a flat one thousand for some odd reason.

“Wings, Zee,” he called out to it. “You forgot the wings.”

Zouros twitched, realizing its blunder. Its mouth yawned open as a giant pair of black wings cast a dark shadow over them all.

“Beautiful…” Iselle stared up at it in reverence, falling to her knees. “There can be no mistake. The aura I can sense from this serpent is similar to The Desolate One.”

Following her, the other darkin prostrated on the cursed soil, chanting something he couldn’t understand. It sounded like one of those Buddhist chants he rarely heard in his past life, though obviously in an entirely different language.

Reivan scratched his head as he watched them, feeling as if hurrying them would be too disrespectful. It was obviously a big deal to them and he didn’t want to ruffle their feathers for no good reason.

‘Heh. Ruffle their feathers. Cuz they have wings and stuff. Get it, Zee? Aren't I funny?’

Zouros, obviously, did not like his puns. But it didn't have to roll its eyes in front of all these people. With how huge it was, everyone noticed.

While waiting, he occupied himself by fooling around in his head, but he had to stop when Zouros’ thoughts funneled into him.

‘Oh? You like them, huh?’

Reivan mentally asked Zouros to clarify if that meant it liked them as food or as people, and the giant serpent responded that it was the latter. Which was good. Because there was no way he was feeding all of these ladies to Zouros no matter how persistently it asked.

‘You want me to help them out? Well, I was already planning to do that, but sure.’

Surprised by the serpent’s request, Reivan couldn’t help but raise a brow. Zouros didn’t ask for much, all things considered. It was actually a mannerly little bugger, going as far as to sleep for the majority of the day so it didn’t devour everything in the kingdom’s food reserves. A world-devouring serpent understandably had a voracious appetite, after all.

As such, Reivan was even more inclined to help these people out.

Now the request was coming from both Zell and Zouros, he had to do his best. He couldn't let the two snakes down.

Zouros eventually put a stop to the worship session by shrinking into a more manageable size, draping itself over his shoulders while staring at Iselle. Taking this as a sign, the other darkin stood up too.

“That should prove it without a doubt, I hope?” Reivan grinned and offered a hand to help Iselle up.

She nodded, gratefully accepting the unneeded help to stand. “Yes. You are indeed the one spoken of in our prophecies. It seems the endless night has finally ended...”

“Yes, it most definitely has. Now, let’s get everyone out of here. I’m sure everyone’s tired, hungry, and just generally tired of this accursed place. Anywhere is better.”

Iselle nodded, turning to her people and speaking in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. Clearly, she was summarizing things in a positive fashion because all the pretty ladies had visibly brighter expressions.

“That went well.” Uncle Viktor stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder. “Those pearls sure are handy. You got them at the perfect time too.”

“All according to plan,” Reivan shamelessly lied. He most definitely did not have a plan of any sort. The encounter with Aguru and the pearls of wisdom were total coincidences that unexpectedly bore fruit. “I heard you had Dame Lamorak with you?”

“I do. She’s over there. See that woman hiding from responsibility? That’s her.”

With mild amusement, Reivan followed his gaze to find the only other person who laughed at his uncle’s expense earlier. Aside from himself, that is.

‘Oh, so that’s why she looks like a Mercer. Because she is one.’

Black hair and eyes weren’t exactly uncommon in the kingdom, but about nine times out of ten, anyone with this combination was of the Mercer bloodline. Even more so if they were inhumanly attractive. Good genes seemed to run in the family, which justified why the royal family so often picked marriage partners out of their clan.

Dame Lamorak must have noticed his gaze since she languidly saluted before floating over to him and saluting again. “I greet His Highness, Prince Reivan. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine,” he responded as he froze. A familiar scent just invaded his nose. Just to make sure, he sniffed the air again. “Is that the smell of Bliss? A highly concentrated variant too…”

“You know of it, Your Highness?” Her brows shot up for a moment before nodding to herself, seemingly having come to some kind of conclusion. “I see. I suppose princes know how to party as well.”

“Uh, no… I generally make a point of partaking in all kinds of medicinal implements. It's for my special gift...”

‘Also, I sell this crap.’

Or rather, the secret organization he was technically the head of sold it. In the past, that is. That was no longer the case, according to Elsa.

It somehow made its way to Arkhan, but initially, Bliss was a sedative widely prevalent in the kingdom before the church set up shop. Now it was just a narcotic, though still used for its original purposes in more remote sections of the republic.

‘Is she an addict…? Hm. That doesn’t sound right.’

The unspoken question must have shown in his face or his silence because Dame Lamorak sheepishly answered it for him. “Overusing my unique techniques gives me somewhat of a headache, you see. I take Bliss to ease the side effects.”

“I see…”

“Ever since I Ascended, I could handle the downsides easier. But I still use it out of habit. Also, it feels great, so...”

‘Hey…!’

Reivan scratched his head, not really knowing what to make of it. Ultimately, he decided to just ignore it. If she was so respected as a knight, she couldn’t possibly be someone who couldn’t manage her vices. Besides, she might just be downplaying how bad the side effects were. Knights generally had the predisposition to treat any hardship as some form of masochistic training. Ashamed as he was to admit, he had a similar mindset.

“I can make more concentrated doses that’ll last for longer if you want,” he offered with exasperation. “I’ll have someone do a survey of how many people might need it first. So I can get a better idea of how much I need to make. It’ll show up as an available provision in, say, a week or two?”

“That’d be great!” Lamorak smiled. “You’re so nice, Your Highness. And you’re unmarried too. Do you like older women, by any chance?”

“Maybe if they’re only a little bit older. More than a hundred-year gap is a bit much.” Reivan rolled his eyes checking to see if the darkin were ready to cross the portal with them. Iselle was silently waiting at the front of her group, waiting for him to address her. “Are you and the others ready, Lady Iselle?”

“Yes, we are.” She nodded before showing him the pearl that he hadn’t taken from her yet. “What do I do with this now?”

“Oh, you can keep it with you. Kindly help the others use it as well. That way, you’ll know the language spoken over on our side. Just please be careful not to lose or break it.”

Reivan wasn’t sure how much force the pearls could withstand, but he and everyone who knew of them were understandably reluctant to test the limits. There were few of these pearls, after all, and they couldn’t be reproduced.

Not by humans, that is.

‘Aguru apparently vanished.’

A few of the knights had gone over to check after the Sage King’s death. But they found no traces of the simian hermit. The hut was still there and the area Aguru usually lived in wasn’t affected by the fiasco, but the knowledgeable ape was nowhere to be seen.

“We will surely take care of it and return it in pristine condition,” Iselle assured him. "You have my word. I will stake my life on it."

“I like the enthusiasm, but there's no need to talk of lives... Uh, anyway, let’s cross. Kindly follow me. The knights will wait until everyone has crossed.”

The darkin princess nodded, letting one of the other four-winged darkin cross first before steadily funneling the weaker ones. Only then did she and the third Ascendant darkin cross.

“Alright, then.” Reivan clapped his hands, turning to the knights. “With your safe return, your missions are now officially complete. The royal family thanks you for your service. Given the risks you bore during this mission, you are all given an entire month of paid leave that isn’t included in your already accumulated vacation days. Please take this time to rest and recharge before your next post.”

There were a few scattered whoops and cheers, with Lamorak even pumping her fist a little. But Reivan noticed a few Ascendants who almost seemed troubled at the notion of having no work for a month. Really, workaholics existed everywhere.

“Well, that’s good.” Viktor shrugged, picking him up by the scruff and dragging him over to the portal. “Enough talk. I’m sick of this place and I want a good drink!”

Reivan let himself be picked up as he signaled for the other knights to follow after.

════════════════════════════════

There was a bit of chaos after that. Obviously because of the visitors.

Surprisingly, the darkin didn’t appreciate the sun or its brightness but absolutely adored the fresh air, so the light was a tradeoff they were willing to endure. They also seemed averse to the idea of staying inside the palace, which seemed like a carved piece of stone in their eyes.

The darkin couldn’t even take a seat, given how incompatible they were with most human furniture meant for sitting. Chairs usually had backs, after all. And darkin wings grew from their lower backs. That meant chairs and darkin did not go together at all. And it seemed they disliked having to sit elevated off the ground. Beds were similarly a strange thing for them.

Taking all of that into consideration, the darkin were temporarily housed in the Sword Sanctum, of all places. They were enamored by the lush trees and the freedom of being able to fly without crashing into any spires. And it worked out for the kingdom too, because there were loads of Ascendants residing in the mountain, essentially acting as the darkin’s guards—or enforcers, on the off-chance they misbehaved.

Reivan felt a bit strange though. He felt as if he was being rude to guests by letting them stay outside. But then again, who was he to force his human preferences on a race that was completely different from his own?

Some simple clothing was modified for the darkin and handed out, to which they were quite grateful. He certainly couldn’t have a race full of women run around in worn-out rags, after all. The knights unfortunately didn't pack any spare clothes because they were using every spatial storage space they had for supplies among other things, so the darkin was still dressed in the same clothes they were found in—rags for the ordinary darkin and slightly less-raggy rags for Iselle and the other two four-winged ladies.

Certain womanly parts were constantly peaking out from time to time and the menfolk among the knights were visibly stressed about maintaining gentlemanliness.

As for food, surprisingly, the darkin had the attitude of “If it’s edible, I’ll eat it.” so there were no problems on that front. But he supposed that made sense since they lived in the Outlands for years. Reivan really wanted to ask them what they actually ate back there, but that would have to be for later.

The knights had shared field rations with them on the return trip though, and some of the darkin apparently cried tears of joy because of how good it was. Taking that into account, they might just have a stroke over how good freshly served stuff was.

All in all, despite some troubles due to how different darkin and humans were, Aizen’s new winged friends were very well-behaved guests. That fact made them easier to like, at least. Reivan would have wanted to give them at least a day before he pestered them about details and whatnot, but Iselle surprisingly approached him first.

She said she wanted to talk about the future of their clan. And so that was why Reivan, his brother, and his little sister Jiji were meeting with her.

“I apologize if I’ve taken up too much of your time,” Iselle once again prostrated, kneeling before them on the Sword Sanctum’s verdant grass. “I understand that our differences have caused some…issues. You even had to meet me out here, instead of in your home.”

“I don’t mind, actually,” Jiji commented with a smile as she shamelessly sat down on the blanket Reivan had laid out for himself. “It’s like a picnic. We haven't had one in a while.”

Reivan frowned at her but he’d honestly foreseen it. And he was about to lay one out for her anyway, so it didn’t really matter. “We don’t mind, Lady Iselle. No need for all this bowing and scraping. Right, Your Majesty?”

“My brother’s right. Please, relax.” Roland chuckled as he sat on the open grass without a care. “We welcome your kind here, milady. According to my brother here, you are called darkin? Did I say that right?”

Iselle nodded with a mildly surprised look on her face. “The Chosen One is correct. In our tongue, it means to be free.”

Reivan and Roland shared a look. The two of them had thought that "darkin" had something to do with how black their wings were or the darkness attribute that their entire race seemed to share. Now they mutually felt embarrassed over how simple-minded they were.

“That’s a very powerful message, naming your race that,” Jiji spoke up to fill the silence that the brothers left. She then gestured at the ears atop her head as her tail peeked out from behind her. “As you can see, it is not only humans that reside here. Aizen is quite accepting of other races, should you choose to integrate into this nation.”

There was an unspoken inquiry in Jiji’s words that Reivan immediately recognized. And obviously, his brother did too. But both of them decided to see how things played out. Their sister certainly seems to have it covered.

“That’s certainly a relief, Your Highness.” Iselle placed a hand on her chest and sighed. “If we have a place in this community, then we would be happy to do our part.”

“Well, there’s plenty of room… is what I’d like to say.” Jiji gave the two men a side glance. “But given your aversion to enclosed spaces, I don’t think you’ll like the undercities very much.”

‘Oh. That’s true…’

Mimi and Jiji’s clan—the Terracatta Clan—were all too happy to be housed in the undercities. In fact, they would have preferred that to a penthouse suite aboveground. They just felt at home, surrounded by earth and stone.

The darkin were different though. They seemed to prefer places where they could take to the skies at any time. He supposed it made sense from a survival standpoint, given how they had to constantly be ready to flee for their lives while living in the Outlands. Lifestyles tended to change when one had no choice but to live in such inhospitable conditions.

Or maybe it wasn’t because of a habit ingrained in their previous lifestyle. Maybe it was just a racial thing. Honestly, who knew?

“I’m sure we’ll work something out,” King Roland assured the slightly anxious darkin. Seemingly seeking to take her mind off it, he changed the subject. “By the way, Lady Iselle. I noticed that you don’t have any men with you. Did you get separated from them, perhaps?”

Iselle seemed confused for a moment before her shoulders jumped and she clapped her hands. “Oh, I almost forgot. Our world had humans too, so I unconsciously thought you would know.”

‘There were humans in their world too?’

Jiji seemed to be just as curious as him, but she decided to move the conversation along instead. “Know what?”

“That our kind do not have males.” Iselle smiled sheepishly. “We reproduce asexually. Though some of us do take mates from other species, especially if they meet one that they get along with…”

Their eyes momentarily met for a moment, but she quickly averted them.

Reivan cleared his throat and pretended it didn’t mean anything. “I have trouble imagining how that works. Can you enlighten us? If it’s not asking for too much.”

“Not at all.” Iselle shook her head. “This was common knowledge back there. It is known by all other races that the darkin reproduce by laying eggs.”

The three royals were stunned for a moment before Jiji hesitantly clarified. “...Eggs? You... Uhm, you lay eggs?”

“Yes. About once a month, each darkin beyond a certain age will lay an egg.”

Reivan gulped, unconsciously imagining it. How big were these eggs if a literal darkin hatched from them? Where would the egg even come out from? The vaginas, right? Or do they have something else down there that can facilitate hatching eggs better? Do their stomachs just open up like the Red Sea?

So many questions. Also, could he watch? Was that no good? Did they get embarrassed by that or is that something they can do in public? If it was, then that would be a bit of a problem. There would be mayhem if darkin just started laying eggs in public. Like in the middle of a street or something. Or a back alley.

Feeling Jiji’s glare, Reivan stopped that train of thought even though he was really curious about how the egg-laying worked. “By the way. You mentioned something interesting earlier. Do humans truly exist in your world too?”

“Yes. Though they had seemingly been wiped out by the time I was born.” Iselle sighed as her gaze fell to the hands crossed over her lap. “The elders speak much of the time when everything was still right. On occasion, they would speak of humans and how well our two people got along. Also, my mother showed me an illusion of one when I was a child. I never knew I’d live to see the day when I actually get to meet them. A hundred human warriors at that.”

Roland smiled. “Well, you’ll get plenty of chances to see them now that you’re here. By the way, I'm only half of one. I have qualities from both my parent species.”

"Oh, my. Truly? I heard that such a thing is impossible."

"Well, you should've told that to my parents nineteen years ago. Because it's too late now."

For a while after that, the meeting was quite pleasant. It became a sort of cultural exchange between humans and darkin. The three royals asked her about how darkin worked while Iselle asked about relatively mundane things, such as inquiring about how weather worked.

It was when the sun began to set that Iselle finally took a deep breath, her face shifting more into a serious one.

“I truly must apologize for my impudence…” Iselle scooched forward and once again prostrated. “I know you have already done us a great favor—a favor we can never truly repay. I was going to stay quiet about it but I just cannot do so any longer…”

Reivan shared a glance with both of his siblings before he spoke out, trying his best to avoid being too rough. “What do you mean, Lady Iselle? Judging from your words, you seem as if you wish to ask us for something...?”

The darkin didn’t get up, merely nodding as her forehead touched the ground. “I and the ones you have saved are actually just a small part of our clan…”

“Oh?" Jiji tilted her head. "And where are the others, then? I don’t think the others saw anyone else. Though I suppose depending on vision in the Outlands lacks reliability.”

“We were separated when a horde of powerful demons attacked our temporary base. Each one was as strong as an Isuul.”

Apparently, “Isuul” meant four-winged in their tongue. So basically, they were an Ascendant. And "demon" was the closest English word Iselle knew for "Nightmare Spawns" because the origin of the pearl's knowledge didn't know about them.

‘A horde of Ascendant nightmare spawns, eh?’

If Reivan had been there, he would have gotten squashed flat. A puny mortal like him couldn’t go up against any one of those bastards. According to his uncle, who was getting black-out drunk at the moment, they had apparently run into a horde on the way back.

That had been why one of the darkin was slain. It was a young girl who was also coincidentally the first one to make contact with Viktor and the other knights. Worst of all, his uncle wasn’t the only one who felt like shit that they’d let such a young kid die on their watch. In the chaos, nobody had even seen how the kid died—there was nobody to be found and only an arm was left.

Even though knights prioritized the kingdom and its citizens, it wasn’t as if they were unfeeling monsters who could indifferently watch a child get torn apart by nightmarish creatures for sport. Even if they only saw the result, and not the process.

“And you want help saving these people…?” Jiji hesitantly asked. "The rest of the darkin, you mean."

Iselle silently remained prostrated for a few moments before answering. “I know that it is asking for too much, but please… I will do whatever you wish. Please. Please save the others as well...”

The slight tremble in her voice couldn’t escape any of their ears, and the royal siblings exchanged wordless glances yet again.

“I know I shouldn’t ask this.” Reivan licked his lips in hesitation but pushed through. “If it’s true that they were attacked by a horde filled with that many monsters, then are you sure there is anybody left to save?”

Iselle looked up and nodded seriously. “All of our warriors were there too. My two servants and I are nothing compared to them in combat. If we survived, there is much hope that they have as well. Not to mention how numerous they are compared to our motley crew.”

“Can I ask how many?”

“I think there should have been around a thousand warriors before the attack. Though many must have died because of how sudden the demonic stampede was.”

Reivan gulped.

A thousand.

In lumens, that was not much for a prince like Reivan. But it was a massive number when it was used to count Ascendants.

Perhaps seeing that the three were still skeptical, Iselle dropped a bombshell. “My mother is there too, and she’s an Ashuul.”

“Ashuul?” Roland leaned forward, and even Jiji did too. “Does that mean what I think it means…?”

“Six Wings.” Iselle clarified for them. “I believe you call people of her caliber… a Transcendent?”

Once again, the siblings exchanged silent glances.

The presence of a Transcendent changed everything from the kingdom’s standpoint. Not only did the tribe’s survivability shoot up, but Aizen now had the opportunity to build an incredibly positive relationship with another Transcendent. Possibly one that had immense combat experience.

Recruiting them was more than a possibility.

Even if they somehow disliked the kingdom, there were no other alternatives aside from the Aizen Kingdom within the confines of Sentorale. The Magitechnocratic Republic of Arkhan was essentially no more and the Argonia Empire was so racist they made the KKK look like incarnations of Mother Theresa.

And if they flew over to another continent, they’d have to compete with other races for supremacy, potentially depleting their forces even more.

‘Agh, so not all of them were saved… Fuck.’

Reivan was a bit different from the other two accompanying him. While he did still care about the benefits saving the darkin brought to the kingdom, he was more concerned with fulfilling the favor he owed Zell. His current happiness wouldn't even be possible if it weren’t for her help in reincarnating. The feeling of indebtedness in his heart could never be forgotten or ignored.

There was Zouros’ mental nudging too, urging him to help the darkin out.

‘Geez. Why do you even like them so much? Is it just because of the wings? Why do you still eat other snakes then?’

He didn’t get a response, just more mental prodding. Or rather, he should just call it pestering at this point.

With a sigh, Reivan scratched his head as the gears in his mind started turning. They were rusty and produced alarming noises as they did so, but they were turning, alright.

That would have to be enough.

Post Delay due to Typhoon Kristine

Yep, just as it says on the Title.

The recent typhoon has been surprisingly troublesome, causing both blackouts and internet problems. It took multiple tries to get this post online and it has mad me want to throw my phone into a wall many times.

Don't worry though, I'll live. Thankfully, my workplace made the wise call not to make everyone come in to work. But the internet and electricity issues have been bothering me and my household for two fricking days now.

I have had two days from work yet couldn't spend a second writing. Though this was also because I had to help clear out the driveway of mud and seal up certain windows so the glass doesn't spread everywhere in case the wind breaks it.

Typhoon Kristine has been a headache.

Because of that, Wednesday's Patreon chapter will be delayed. Dunno when things will calm down over here.

I am very sorry I do not have weather control powers. Lmao.

Again, don't worry about my safety because I'm pretty cozy where I am. The pathways always end up muddy as fuck after a typhoon, but that's about it.

My sincere apologies. I'll see you all again in the next chapter!

Arc#5 Chapter 2: The Expedition Returns

"A teleportation gate will be installed in the castle being constructed in Lageton," Gwen assured him with her signature professional tone. "There will be no conflict with your concubines should they decline to live with you in Lageton."

"That's great." Reivan smiled, but more about the teleportation gate. Now he could give his brother a piece of his mind whenever he wished.

Furthermore, if things ever got too uncomfortable there, he could just zip back over here for a while. Nothing could compare to having the everlasting option to run away from one's problems. It was great, once in a while.

"Mother said she wanted to live there, however," Jiji said with a giggle. "But she likely won't get to do so because of the Treaty."

'Damn right. She'd probably step in to save me no matter the cost if I'm in danger. Can't have her doing that.'

"Oh!" Jiji exclaimed, her ears shooting upward, and her eyes widened as if she remembered something. "I almost forgot to tell you. The Matron of the Terracatta Clan expressed a desire to migrate most of its population to this new nation."

"Hah?" Reivan's jaw slackened, momentarily stunned. "Why...? I think we've been treating them well though? We gave them so much land."

Jiji waved her hand dismissively. "It's not because of anything negative. They want to do it so they can be as far away from the eastern continent as possible."

"Oh. Okay, that kind of makes sense..."

"Also, it's harder for their clan to distinguish themselves in the kingdom. They're nice to have around and the crown values them. But they lack the prestige of, say, House Mercer for example. They want the opportunity to truly make a name for themselves."

"Uh-huh..."

'You really don't wanna be treated as part of their tribe, huh?'

Reivan was naturally aware of the grudge Jiji harbored for the way she had been treated for her appearance when she was young. But clearly, those feelings had festered into cutting herself off from them. A full severance of all connections, so to speak.

'Hm... How do I fix this, I wonder? Ah, but should I even fix it? Does it require fixing at all? Would I be too nosy if I tried?'

He wasn't really sure. Reivan wasn't exactly a professor on how to make up with estranged family members.

Holding back a sigh, Reivan continued the topic as if they never had the non-verbal exchange. "They do understand that we can't have Ascendants muddying the waters there, right? Argonia and Aizen even went on a joint clearing operation, killing all Ascendant monsters throughout the republic's lands. Those bastards took the chance to kill off any battlemages they found though, but we can't do anything about that now."

Jiji nodded. "Their Ascendants and the young are going to stay. Only the Warbeasts who have unlocked their qi will migrate."

Reivan frowned. "So... thirteen years old and above?"

Understanding the unspoken sentiments behind his words, Jiji rolled her eyes. "You lived all civilized, Yani, so you don't know just how savage it was in the East. A Warbeast tastes blood way before they experience their first mating season."

'Jesus Christ.'

Scratching his head at the sudden bout of culture shock, Reivan didn't know how to respond. What, was he supposed to send a bunch of thirteen-year-old kittens into war? That sounded incredibly foolish and highly unethical. But apparently, according to Warbeasts, he was the weird one for thinking anything strange about that.

‘Ah. Well, I suppose I don’t have to make them do anything.’

There were probably still monster habitats all over the former republic, so he’d just throw them over there to sharpen their claws and sate whatever bloodlust they had. Since all of them would have Soul Armaments, they should be fine—

“Hm...?” Reivan grunted, suddenly realizing something. “Wait, you said Warbeasts that have unlocked their qi, right?”

“That is what I said, yes.” Jiji nodded, hugging Sen to her chest and ticking the white kitten’s tummy. “Does something about that concern you?”

“Just making sure, but they do have Soul Armaments, right?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“...Huh.”

Gwen stepped in with her own input. “While unlocking qi is a vital requirement for a knight, they must also have prerequisite martial expertise in a variety of weapons, honed combat decision-making skills, sharp reflexes, and a whole host of other things including the capability of acting in accordance to the prestige their title grants them.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh.” Reivan nodded. “So basically, not thirteen-year-old Warbeasts who are probably horny and thirsty for battle?”

The blonde knight nodded. "I believe the king was open to granting all the eligible warbeasts soul armaments in advance, only to call them trainee knights. But the Terracatta Clan's matriarch refused. Apparently, she didn't want their clan's youth to grow dependent on soul armaments."

‘Goddamnit. Even more reason not to send them anywhere dangerous! They’ll have, like, a hundred Might or so. That’s so weak! They’ll get murdered in war! I mean, I heard the empire utilized peasant levies so young Warbeasts could probably deal with that, but…’

Reivan massaged the bridge of his nose. The country he would rule wasn’t even born yet but he was already facing its problems.

Luckily, he had a very competent person by his side.

“We can simply continue their knight training in Lageton, Your Highness,” Gwen said, like the angel of salvation that she was. “It lacks much of the capital’s infrastructure, not to mention the instructors, but that shouldn’t be too much of an issue. Additionally, most of the warbeasts coming with us have sworn their oaths after training these past few years. They're quick learners when it comes to combat, though certain other qualities apparently leave much to be desired. The percentage of warbeasts you're concerned about is only around twenty percent of the warbeasts coming with us."

"Oh. That's a relief..."

"There is also no need to force yourself to utilize them. You can even send them back if you wish.”

“Eh, but won’t that upset them?” Reivan scratched his head. “They’re future knights. I don’t want to piss them off to the extent they don’t sign up when they complete training.”

“There’s little chance of that happening, Yani.” Jiji also offered some input. “Also, the Matron’s no buffoon. She won’t send all the newly minted youths of the clan to war. Just the bravest ones, probably. Most of the Warbeasts involved will be a lot older than that, seeing as they have very few Ascendants.”

‘Oh. That’s true…’

Warbeasts were a cheat-like race that would automatically unlock their qi just from becoming horny teenagers. They also had extremely strong bodies, higher physical growth limits than humans, and the ability to transform into a beast form that granted them even greater Might.

But they had less magic power capacities than humans and this had various effects, eventually snowballing into a glaring difficulty when attempting Ascension. That was why the Terracatta Clan had very few Ascendants.

Of course, this meant that any Ascendants they did have were true elites in their realm.

“In that case…” Reivan gave it some more thought before sighing. “I guess it’s fine, then. I’ll just have to monitor this issue.”

Even if there were weaklings, they could simply be helped out by the others in their tribe. The Warbeasts weren’t like the traditional Aizenian Knight, after all. They actually had plenty of experience working together—unlike the solitary guardians that the kingdom trained.

“Dame Gwen, please monitor them for me when we get there,” Reivan said, realizing that delegating the task to someone better at it would be much more ideal than leaving it to someone who might half-ass it.

In other words, someone like him.

“Of course, Your Highness.” Gwen dipped her forehead before she hummed in thought. “Or perhaps I should start calling you Your Excellency now?”

“Not you too…”

Jiji giggled from the side, standing up and walking over to his side to massage his shoulders. “Cheers, Hierarch Reivan. Please treat this humble subject kindly.”

“I haven’t even started my term yet and I’m already surrounded by insubordinate staff? Woe is me.” Reivan rolled his eyes but let his sister do her work. She was oddly good at massaging his shoulders even though he wasn’t particularly stressed there. “Oh, by the way. What has the republic’s government been up to? The remnants of it, I mean.”

Gwen pulled out a stack of papers and offered them to Reivan as she said, “The capital city of Arkhana was utterly obliterated right after Sir Valter and the other Ascendants fled the scene—which was, in turn, after you fled. Since most of the republic’s politicians resided in the capital and fulfilled their duties in the Capitol building, the republic’s government has been crippled. The terrain itself has also reportedly deteriorated in a variety of ways and for a variety of reasons.”

“Shit…” Reivan couldn’t help but curse. He’d been to that city and actually interacted with a few people there. Memories of the orphanage Filth visited as he followed were brought to the surface of his mind as he asked, “Who did it?”

“We are not completely certain,” Gwen said. “Sir Rolf reported that the place was already in that state when he arrived. We can only assume that it was the other Transcendents, as the depth of the damage exceeds what an Ascendant could wreak. These are, of course, the assumptions of Ascendant Knights I’ve consulted on this topic such as Sir Valter and Dame Mordred.”

“I see…”

‘To think that just a few months ago I was agonizing over the death of one girl and a stranger.’

Because of the information he discovered and divulged, he had sparked the series of events that led to this massive loss of life. He’d be lying if he said he felt nothing. And he didn’t think the deaths of those people were just and right.

Yet Reivan would have done the exact same thing given the choice.

Steeling his expression, he gestured for Gwen to continue.

“From what I’ve gathered,” Gwen said with aloof professionalism. “All surviving settlements are operating on a system of self-governance. They haven’t gotten around to establishing contact with other towns or cities because they fear that Ascendants are still fighting elsewhere.”

“What about Argonia?” Jiji asked. “I bet they’ve swallowed the entirety of north Arkhan. They border it, after all.”

“That is the case, Your Highness. Though I haven’t ascertained to what extent, it is unlikely that the borders have remained secure these past two weeks. What with the Tower’s collapse and the empire’s full assault.”

“Even if Argonia left the mortal battlemages and the war golems alone for their own mortal forces to fight according to the Treaty, they would have already taken out any silver cloaks. North Arkhan stands no chance.”

‘North Arkhan…’

Listening to the two young women talk, Reivan recalled how Mira’s hometown was in Northern Arkhan. It had likely been razed by now. There was no concept of “war crimes” in this world, after all. Any ethics that knights practiced was unique to them and weren’t shared by the rest of the world.

Slavery wasn’t outlawed in the empire and was actually thriving. It seemed they would receive an influx of Arkhanians soon.

‘She’s not gonna be happy about that. Well, it’s not like I’m completely at fault for it though.’

On his orders, Mira’s entire clan was brought over to ensure their safety. So at most, she’d mourn friends and acquaintances. Still, hearing about the unfortunate fates of people you knew, even vaguely, wasn’t pleasant for anyone.

It seemed their topic also reminded her of Mira, since Jiji turned to him and asked. “What happened to that woman, by the way.”

“That woman has a name.”

“Right. Mi-something something. Where’d you hide her?”

“Mira.” Reivan corrected before he sighed, knowing that anything he said on this topic would be futile. “I taught her English using one of the pearls before giving her a visitor’s pass for the royal archives. That's quieted her down by a lot.”

Jiji grimaced. “Are you sure that was wise?”

“Why not? Everything there exists in the Great Library and that’s accessible to any normal citizen. We just keep a copy in the castle in case the library burns down or something. Right, Gwen?”

The knight nodded promptly. “One would require at least knight-level clearance to have access to anything truly sensitive.”

“And what about her spirit beast?” Jiji pointed at her own, which was busy nuzzling up to her stomach. “Spirit beasts aren’t exactly restricted by walls and floors.”

Reivan turned to Gwen again because he lacked a rebuttal to the logical jab from his sister.

To the rescue once again, she answered in his stead—almost as if she was ready to answer before the question was even asked. “The space between the normal archive and the one for knights is cut off in a way that even spirit beasts cannot go. Sir Valter’s spirit beast has tested this.”

“Right.” Reivan crossed his arms and grinned smugly at the cat-eared princess. “See? It’s fine.”

Jiji rolled her eyes as she stopped massaging his shoulders, opting to return to her seat instead. “One of these days. I’ll catch you without Dame Gwen around. That'll shut you up nice and good.”

Reivan feigned fear by rubbing his arms and shivering. “Don’t say something so scary!”

Even though she was acting all snippy with him, his antics still caused her to grin for a fraction of a second. She killed that spark of a smile quickly, however. “In any case, are you bringing that woman to Lageton when you take your post?”

'I've actually been thinking about that...'

On one hand, she was safer here and her family seemed to be adjusting fine to their new lifestyle. On the other...

In the end, he just shrugged. “Dunno. I suppose I’ll ask her. Even though she’s currently absorbed with the archives, she’s still a little mad at me, y’see. I think she’ll want to come though.”

‘She loves her homeland, after all.’

Mira would be a good asset to have considering how she could provide him with the perspective of a native Arkhanian. She was also relatively trustworthy—relative in the sense that Reivan had a more fun time sussing out information from her than, say, an Arkhanina prisoner or some other person who hated his guts.

“I think that’s all, for now.” Reivan decided. “My wedding’s at the end of this month and I really don’t want to sour this happy time with troublesome thoughts. Gwen… and you, you troublesome brat. Go ahead and recruit whoever the hell you want to come with us. You’re a better judge of ability in your respective fields than I am.”

“Delegation of duty is a vital skill for a leader.” Jiji recited an old royal proverb. “My Yani is coming along quite nicely.”

“Oh, shut it.” Reivan rolled his eyes and stood up, walking over to his sister and offering a hand. “I’m bored. Let’s go somewhere. My treat.”

The white-haired princess immediately beamed. “Can I pick the place?”

“Hm? Yeah, sure. It's whatever.”

“Great! I don’t have anything lined up today, so we can really—”

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Everybody in the room except Sen the mini white panther could perceive who was beyond the door so none of them were particularly on guard. Reivan merely flicked his wrist and opened the door with his will.

Valter stepped into the room with a dip of his head. “Your Highness.”

“Hey,” Reivan waved with familiarity since they didn’t need to maintain pretenses in their present company. “You didn’t have to do the whole knocking thing, Valter. Just teleport in.”

“I have decided to be more discreet considering how you will be spending your time in the near future.”

It didn’t take much thinking to realize that his guardian knight meant that.

Sex, that is. Reivan was going to be married soon and would be making babies with dozens of concubines. So he supposed it made sense for Valter to adjust to that not-so-little change in lifestyle.

Clearing his throat, Reivan changed the topic. “Something wrong, Valter? I said you could take a long break since I won’t really be leaving the capital for a while.”

“That isn’t it.” Valter shook his head. “Your uncle has safely returned from the expedition deep into the Outlands.”

Reivan’s brows shot up and he shared a smile with his sister. His uncle treated Jiji well too, so she understandably liked the old dog. “That’s great news. We’ll come see him, then. I don’t know if this news warranted you taking a break from your break though. A different Ascendant or even a maid could have done it though.”

“They’ve brought back natives.”

Immediately, Reivan realized what was needed of him.

‘It’s the darkin…’

It’s been eighteen years since Zell the World-Devouring Serpent implored him to help the darkin out. He’d never forgotten about it, though he couldn’t really take action himself considering how fast he’d die in the Outlands should he walk around unguarded.

The kingdom, however, held no particular desire to aid the darkin. They didn’t owe an Archon for their second life like Reivan did. As such, they treated the darkin as potential guests but also potential enemies. Caution that was warranted, in his opinion. And though he owed it to Zell to try his best, Reivan would still prioritize the nation’s interests over some foreign species.

Reivan was expected to use his [Supreme Insight] to check if they had any troublesome abilities to watch out for and he would take this duty very seriously.

“Kindly take me there, Sir Valter.” Reivan put a finger on the seated Jiji’s head before she could rise to join him. “Stay.”

“What?” Jiji scowled. “I wanna go too!”

“No. What if they have some kind of disease that only affects Warbeasts?”

“What the hell are you talking about? You’re a Warbeast too!”

“Only half.”

“Still…!”

Reivan sighed as lightning sparked from his fingertips and traveled into Jiji’s brain, paralyzing her momentarily. It wouldn’t last long, however, so he nodded to Valter to signal that he was ready.

Valter snapped his fingers and a dark puddle appeared on the floor, swallowing both of them whole.

Just before darkness overcame him, however, Reivan met Gwen’s gaze and the latter understood his intentions. She nodded and embarked to resume her duties.

════════════════════════════════

Reivan opened his eyes to the sight of a familiar dark stone room with glowing obelisks scattered around a swirling portal of cyan and black. There were knights at the ready at all times, but among them was a figure that stood out like a sore thumb.

It was the Saintess of the Sun God floating directly above the center of the portal. Instead of priestly garbs, she still wore a white lab coat over what seemed to be normal work clothes.

She was a Saintess in all but fashion sense. Everything—her personality, her power, her face, and even her dream—was fine. Said Saintess was even chatting happily with some of the Ascendant Knights around the massive hall, as if they weren't hovering near the portal to an incredibly perilous place.

Saintess Frey immediately noticed his arrival, her pretty pink lips curling into a benevolent smile. “Your Highness. It has been many dawns since we’ve seen each other.”

Reivan steadied his feet and walked over to the portal’s edge. “Truly, it has. I must apologize for how Aizen’s matters have interrupted your research.”

Saintess Frey’s smile fell just as quickly as it appeared. Her gaze fell to the portal beneath her feet as she shook her head. “No, Your Highness. I’m glad the palace has revealed this to me. I’ve peered beyond and judged that there is no plague or sickness greater than what this world suffers. I would be happy to help in matters concerning this portal any time. You merely need to tell me and I will run you your aid.”

Smiling, Reivan dipped his head to one of Sentorale’s most powerful people. And likely the kindest one too. Remembering something, he took out a few boxes he’d purchased from here and there, letting them float toward the Saintess.

“It’s nothing much,” he said with a sheepish smile. “But I’ve been collecting tea leaves from all over to share with you. I hope you’ll accept them.”

‘It’s kind of a bribe. But not really.’

He just knew that she liked tea, so he got her some from different places in Arkhan. Some of the sources may have been wiped off the map now though, which was a sobering thought.

“Oh, my. You didn’t have to.” Saintess Frey smiled, sucking them all into her spatial storage ring without shame. “But since the prince has gone to all the trouble, it would be rude to refuse. I’ll accept them with gratitude.”

Reivan nodded in satisfaction. He never liked the whole back-and-forth that involved modestly refusing a few times before finally accepting. It was a big waste of time and was obviously very fake to people so used to piercing falsehood like them.

“Oh, I heard you’re getting married soon, Your Highness?” Saintess Frey's warm gaze fell on his face like the pleasant light of dawn. “Congratulations! Since I’m out of the lab already, I could officiate the ceremony. If you'll allow it, that is.”

“That would be amazing, actually. You really wouldn't mind?”

“Oh, it's no problem at all! I’m looking forward to it.”

‘Heh. Helen, I got us, like, the best priest for the wedding! And I didn't even need to ask first!’

Smiling widely, Reivan shared a few more pleasantries with the Saintess before jumping into the portal. He’d gone through it plenty of times, so he didn’t even feel disoriented nor did he grimace at the horrifyingly atrocious odor that permeated the Outlands.

He was also met by knights surrounding a group of beautiful raven-haired women.

With wings. Beautiful raven-haired women with wings.

‘What the…? Why are they all women though? Where are all the dudes? Also, these are fallen angels, no two ways about it. The first race an edgelord would select if they were available in a game.’

Honestly though, he would also select them first if they were available. Actually, maybe he was a bit of an edgelord too. And maybe that was okay. Edgelords never hurt anyone. Being one wasn't illegal either.

Regardless of whether he was an edgelord or not, Sir Valter appeared to take up a position behind him—just in time for his Uncle Viktor to step forward with a big grin.

“You brat.” Viktor roughly but lovingly ruffled Reivan’s hair. “You got bigger while I wasn’t looking.”

Reivan smirked. “I’m getting married soon, so you can’t call me a brat anymore.”

“That’s what a brat would say. Does a wolf stop being a wolf just because you paint it black or blue? It’s still a wolf. And you’re still a brat to me.”

Snorting, Reivan reached over to give his uncle a quick hug, only to receive a bear hug that would have made a normal person's spine scream. When he was finally released, he nudged his chin toward the darkin with a questioning gaze. “You brought home some interesting stuff, Uncle.”

“Interesting is an understatement.” Viktor shook his head. “Anyway, you probably know why I called for you.”

“You want me to check if any of them have anything particularly dangerous.”

“Not all of ‘em, but yeah. Just check one and that’ll be enough.”

Reivan shook his head. “May as well be thorough. I’ll check every single one. 'Sides, it's not like I'm busy or anything.”

“Suit yourself. You’re the brat with the eyes. You get to decide.”

Doing just that, Reivan’s eyes fell on a particular darkin that stuck out to him.

While all of them were pretty, had luscious dark hair, red eyes, and had a pair of ebony wings sprouting from their lower backs, this one had two pairs of black wings. There were two other darkin with two pairs of wings, but this one seemed younger than the other two. And also, for some inexplicable reason, she felt more special.

There was also the fact that the other two seemed to surround her protectively. So there’s that. Not to mention how she was dressed a bit better than literally every other darkin present. They weren't making it hard to tell that she was special in some way.

‘Lemme see what you’ve got…’

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

Name: Iselle

Species: Darkin (Matriarch Bloodline)

Realm: Ascendant

Age: 18

Sex: Female

Might: 8890

Special Abilities

[None]

Extra Skills

[Essence Theft]

[Nightmare Manipulation]

[Qi: Unleashed]

[Suffering Resistance]

[Sleep Immunity]

Elemental Affinities

[Darkness]

[Fire]

Favor

(Curiosity / Uncertainty) 15 / 100

Threat Level

Absolute

════ ⋆★★★⋆ ════

‘Huh. She’s weaker than ordinary Ascendants. Well, the ones I usually see, that is. That said, she’s eighteen so I’m trash compared to her. Even Helen falls behind. What the actual fuck…’

It would be a bit rude to their guest if he spent ages looking all of them over, so he quickly checked the two extra skills to see if they were dangerous to them, moving on to others when he realized they weren’t. The other two four-winged darkin, surprisingly, were weaker than the youngest one, only having around 6000 Might. That meant they were physically weaker than even human Ascendants.

A hastily thrown-together hypothesis was how their race wasn’t really made for physical combat, and as such, were physically weaker as a result. This Matriarch Bloodline that the first darkin had must have contributed to a slight boost because no other darkin in the group had it.

On average though, most of the mortal darkin had around 200 Might and already had their qi unleashed. Every single one had the same set of extra skills too, even though most of them were also in their teens.

‘Holy fuck. As expected of a race that literally lives in the Outlands.’

Come to think of it, since nightmare spawns were said to be born whenever someone slept, then that meant an essential aspect to have if one wanted to live in the Outlands was to not require sleep. These people seemed to have that, making them ideal residents of this accursed place.

Nobody would want to live there though. Even if they were the most suited to do the task.

“So?” Viktor nudged him on the shoulder after a while. “Hurry up. The knights have been through hell getting these people here. We didn’t lose any, but we were swarmed along the way. We even lost one of the black wings. A kid. First one we saw too.”

It was clear that whatever happened weighed heavily on his uncle, so Reivan didn’t bother to ask about it. Not now. And not while they were sober.

Consequently, he tried to lighten the mood a little. “Black wings? Is that what you came up with?”

“Well, we don’t know what to call ‘em.” Viktor shrugged, the dark shadow in his eyes vanishing slightly. “So we went with black wings.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit too literal? C’mon. Aizen’s Knight Commander can do better than that. Where's your creativity?”

“You wanna go think of a new name then?”

“You know what? Black Wings sounds good,” Reivan immediately replied.

Viktor snorted before shaking his head with a smirk. “So? Anything strange.”

“They’ve got some stuff I've never seen before, but none that we need to be bothered about.”

“Yeah? Can I let ‘em in, then? Give the order.”

Reivan raised a brow. “I mean… Just let them in if you want. Why ask me for permission? This ain’t my palace!”

“Bah. You’re a prince. Even if you’re a brat. So I gotta ask.”

Groaning, Reivan rolled his eyes with a shrug. “Fine, fine."

Then he turned to the knights and spoke aloud, with the intention for everyone to hear. "Go ahead, Sirs and Dames. Kindly escort our guests into the world that doesn’t try to kill you.”

That unexpectedly got a few chuckles from some of the more easy-going knights, only to get slapped in the back of the head by the more serious ones.

Reivan quickly realized something though—a language barrier existed between the knights and the darkin. The darkin were being coaxed through the portal using gestures and exaggerated body language. It wasn't going very well though, as the darkin were justifiably wary of the enormous swirling portal in front of them.

Anyone would, so their behavior wasn't weird.

‘Oops. Of course they’d have a language barrier. English only exists in this world because of the First King.’

Luckily, he still hadn’t reset the pearl of wisdom he used to teach Mira the English language.

The process was pretty simple, really. He took a linguistics scholar’s entire English repertoire, used the subsequent pearl on a death row prisoner, returned the pearl’s stored knowledge to the scholar, and then had the death row prisoner store all of his linguistic knowledge into the pearl.

As for the death row prisoner—who, in his opinion, deserved the punishment given his crime of participating in illegal slave trading in Worgon Outpost—he was rewarded with a painless death.

Then voila, he now had a pearl of wisdom that could teach anyone perfect English just by holding it for forty-seven seconds. Reivan intended to keep the stored knowledge in there so he could teach any Arkhanians they recruited.

“Uncle,” Reivan called out. “Give me your honest opinion. You think they’ll kill me if I touch them?”

Viktor’s face twisted into a grimace. “Brat. They haven’t even made it through the portal and you already want to have your way with them? Can’t you calm yourself down a little? You’re already an adult, so you should have learned to restrain the heat, right? This level of perverseness is a bit much...”

“Can you please not treat me like I hump everything I see? Look at this...” Reivan showed him the pearl, quickly summarizing what it could do.

Naturally, Viktor was shocked, his jaw growing slack as he marveled at the tiny pink sphere. “There’s such a thing? Where’d you get it?”

“It’s a long story. We can just talk about it over drinks.”

“Heh. Well, look at you. Drinking alcohol and shit. Fine, then. You owe me an empty bottle.”

Reivan then brought up the pearl, forcing the topic back on track. “So, see? They need to touch this for forty-seven seconds for it to take effect. I can’t really explain that before they learn English though. So I’ll have to touch them without their permission.”

“S’long as you’re not being a creep about it, shouldn’t it be fine? Don’t wriggle your fingers like you used to do or smirk like a pervert.”

Reivan stepped forward and rolled his eyes. “Gee, that’s some good advice right there.”

Just as he was contemplating which of the mortal darkin to approach, the first one he examined earlier flew forward and landed softly a few paces in front of him, a graceful smile on her face. Valter was nearby and there was no way any sane creature would try something when it was obvious how important he was to all of the scary warriors surrounding them.

‘Wow, she’s a little thin but she’s prettier up close, huh?’

Not as much as Helen or Elsamina though. Maybe he was a bit biased because his brain was filled with both love and carnal desires for particular people, but nobody was better than his fiancees. That said, the darkin called Iselle was a close runner-up right next to a bunch of other people he knew—if she wasn't malnourished, that is. Her red eyes were especially striking too, like two lunar eclipses happening at the same time, boring into his soul.

“Hm, well, there goes my right to choose,” Reivan muttered, deciding to just go with the flow. "Guess I'll go with you."

But as he was thinking of how to mime his intentions, the fallen angel suddenly did something unthinkable.

She knelt in front of him—no, she prostrated. Hands flat on the ground and her forehead touching it too. Her beautiful black wings were folded, her current posture allowing him a full view of their magnificence. He’d initially likened them to a crow or a raven’s but it was more than that.

When he stared at her wings, he felt like he was peering into an endless abyss.

It almost sucked him in.

But he snapped out of it and tried to help her up by gently holding her hand as he pulled. “There’s no need for this, miss. C’mon, please get up. You're getting dirty. You should know just how foul this place's soil is.”

‘Oh, wait. Actually, this is the perfect opportunity to get her to touch the pearl! I’m a genius.’

Reivan took out the pink pearl and pushed it into her hand while he himself held it tight. She seemed surprised by this, but he just needed her to hold on. Just forty-seven damned seconds and they could actually communicate like civilized people.

Trying to find something to distract her, he thought of something.

“Iselle,” Reivan said. It was the name of the darkin whose hands he was holding, though he wasn’t sure if he was actually pronouncing it correctly. With any hope, he was close enough. It was a name that sounded as if it would be right at home in this world, which gave him a bit more confidence.

Her name.

To distact her, he went ahead and said her name. Because nobody would expect someone they were meeting for the first time to know who they were. As a consequence of the language barrier, none of the people they traveled with for an extended period knew her name, probably.

That one time when he blurted out Freed’s true name was still a memory burned into his mind, but this time, there wasn’t a mention of true names. Maybe it was a bit optimistic, but he assumed it would be okay to say her name.

Suddenly, however, the other darkin around them started to stir. And even Iselle, wings fluttered as she stared at him with eyes widened in shock.

‘Fuck. Fuck, I did something again! Shit, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it this time!’

Reivan closely observed his surroundings and noticed that the other darkin weren’t really agitated or angry. Rather, they seemed to be… squealing? Or swooning? Like those crazy fangirls who got front-row tickets to their favorite boy band’s concert tour. Or like how Kyouka acted when she pulled a bespectacled character in a gacha game.

Even the other two Ascendant darkins were smiling in what appeared to be pleasant shock.

‘What the fuck is going on...!?’

The language. He just had to wait for a few more seconds and he could ask for an explanation.

Before time was up, however, Iselle stepped forward and wrapped her surprisingly soft arms around him in a gentle embrace.

“Eh?” Reivan dumbly exclaimed as he stood there, stunned but unharmed.

Behind him, he could hear his uncle complaining, exasperated beyond measure. “Fucking brat seduced another one…”

‘No! NO! This isn’t my fault! What the hell are you even saying!?’

Well, it kind of was his fault, but still. He felt very aggrieved.

'I know there was a meme about it back on Earth, but holding hands shouldn't be such a big deal!'

Arc#5 Chapter 1: A New Post

Reivan awoke with a start, a carpet's surface greeting him instead of a familiar ceiling or his lovely fiancee's sleeping form.

'Huh. Did I fall off? I fell off, didn't I...'

His question was immediately answered when a familiar set of feet stepped right in front of him, causing him to look up. And there stood one of his fiancees—the one that could beat him up if she really tried.

"You wouldn't wake up," Helen explained before he asked.

Reivan groaned as he slithered back into bed much like how his favorite snake would have. "Do I have to...?"

"It's dawn now. So yes."

He looked toward the window of his room in the palace and confirmed that no light was seeping through the curtain. It wasn't a very good way of telling the time, however, because they usually got up before dawn. Truly, he didn't need to check. His body's internal clock was already telling him that now was the time to get out of bed.

'What is this? I feel this overwhelming desire to stay in bed today.'

Reivan grabbed Helen's hand and pulled her into his lazy embrace. She let him do so with little resistance even though the annoyance in her impassive face was palpable to him. While hugging her tightly as the big spoon, he whispered. "Let's stay in today. Okay? Please?"

Helen stayed silent for a few moments, which made him think she was considering it. But in the end, she shook her head. "No. It'll build bad habits if we slack off for no good reason. Once is all it takes to establish a precedent."

"I mean, you're right. But... ten minutes should be fine, no?"

"No. Now, c'mon," she said, turning into a gust of wind to escape his grasp and reappearing by the door. "Get up. You can't keep running away from your duties forever."

Reivan groaned. Again, but longer and deeper this time.

She was right, of course. So he reluctantly got out of bed naked as the day he was born and materialized some decent clothes for some light morning sparring. With a wave of his hand, all the curtains were pulled aside, revealing that the sun truly hadn't risen yet.

It had been two weeks since the cataclysmic events that shook the Sentorale Continent and outright ruined one of the nations competing for its dominance.

Part of the continent was devastated beyond feasible recovery and the rest of it was in chaos. His brother, understandably so, had plans for him. Big plans. Very big plans, indeed. Plans that would be quite troublesome for Reivan, but were obviously most suited to him as the king's younger brother.

But that would be for after his wedding at the end of the month—which was two weeks from now give or take. For the month leading up to it, he was allowed to enjoy a time of peace. An advanced honeymoon, so to speak.

Upon his return to Aizen, he'd made internal jokes about how his hips would likely be pushed to their limits by the passion of reuniting with the fiancee he hadn't seen in months. But surprisingly, the past two weeks had been quite wholesome. Of course, two teenagers—who were in love and would be married very soon with the consent and support of their respective families—obviously wouldn't hold back in doing the deed. Nobody expected them not to, especially when they'd already stepped over that particular line months ago.

That said, most of their days were spent just relaxing, revisiting establishments they favored growing up, and meeting up with friends and acquaintances. Like Hector and Mimi, who were apparently engaged now. The young knights who he worked with for a time when he was training his leadership skills. Along with some other people who he only knew as "Van", the perfectly ordinary citizen who walked around with his gluttonous childhood friend.

His mother was also being suspiciously nice to him now, which was great but scary in its own way. Of course, she had always been good to him, but especially so these days. Perhaps it was because she'd somehow gotten wind of how he'd stopped using contraceptives with Helen, seeing no need to do so with their wedding literally weeks away. The list of concubines who would serve as surrogate mothers for him had also been finalized and he didn't even want to imagine the upcoming fiasco of naming all the children born from impregnating all those women—some of which, surprisingly, were part of the Terracatta Clan, which birthed Mimi and Jiji.

And nobody even saw any of this as strange. Past kings had simply been too chaste, making Reivan look like an utter manwhore in comparison. As the last mortal of their bloodline, the responsibility fell on him.

Though others would pity him or be envious of his luck, Reivan was actually happy to receive such responsibilities. It made him feel needed.

A much better fate than being a burden who only brought heartache to those he loved.

'Hopefully, Uncle makes it to the wedding.'

Apparently, his Uncle Viktor had led an expedition deep into the Outlands. They'd gone out of communication range so nobody knew anything specific, but they were apparently still alive and moving around. Not a single knight had been slain too, despite them being gone for months.

'Even the Sword Star's been busy with something, leaving the Outland portal to the Saintess...'

Well, there was nothing else to do but remain optimistic. He wanted both his uncle and the old man to be present for his first-ever wedding. A second one, for Elsamina, would follow half a year or so later and that wasn't any less special than his wedding with Helen, but he could already tell that he'd be less nervous the second time around.

Heck, it still hadn't really sunk in. He was getting married. To a woman. Him. The guy who used to be in a hospital bed all day for years on end, not knowing when he'd breathe his last.

Getting married.

It was one of the biggest wins a man could achieve in life. Having a woman acknowledge you as someone she wanted to build a family with.

And it was happening to him. To him.

'This is not a drill, man!'

Thinking about it made Reivan bounce on his feet as he walked side-by-side with his future wife. She seemed utterly aloof to the world as usual, but he could read the underlying happiness within. And that was enough to make him smile, taking her hand in his.

Helen looked at him, and for a moment, she smiled too.

'Yep. I'm a winner in life.'

That morning, the sparring wasn't as brutal as usual.

════════════════════════════════

After breakfast with the family, Helen got pulled away by his mother, Stella, and his nieces.

That left Reivan to himself for a while. Which wasn’t all that strange, since the two of them couldn’t spend every waking second of the day together, even if they were in their advanced honeymoon.

‘It’s probably about the dress. Or other wedding stuff.’

He wasn’t exactly uninterested in the wedding decor and whatnot. But he decided to follow the tradition of every man in the royal family since the kingdom’s conception. His brother had slipped a folded piece of paper with a set of family rules on the matter, showing the royal family’s accumulated wisdom once again.

1.) For all wedding matters, just nod along to whatever the family's women decide. They are inherently much better at this than you could ever be.

2.) If they insist on asking you for your input, your opinion probably doesn’t matter and they’ve already decided on something in their head. This is most common for flowers and other decorative aspects of the ceremony—this, however, is a trap. Simply smile and say “I trust your judgment”.

3.) You are, at most, allowed one very strong uncontested opinion. The First King’s suggestion is to use this to decide the cake’s flavor, if such a tradition is still retained in your era. Most have followed his lead to great success.

4.) Offer compliments such as “You’re right, this does feel perfect.” and other time-appropriate variations to please your wife or whichever female relative is handling the preparations to ensure harmony. Use them liberally. Overuse may cause suspicion.

5.) Your primary role in the preparations is to agree that everything looks splendid even if you lack a complete understanding of the wedding plans.

6.) It is important to know that the ability to adapt is paramount, as weddings are events that inherently invite chaos. This is especially so for the royal family's main line, because their weddings are often meant to be seen by the citizens and to be as extravagant as humanly possible. More variables mean a greater chance of something going wrong and ruining your wife's big day. This must be avoided at all costs because they will never forget this for the rest of your married life.

7.) There is no seventh rule. All men of the royal family are encouraged to offer their own special advice to whoever they are giving this set of rules to. We are of one blood. Let us all help each other get through this great ordeal. For Aizenwald!

His brother had added his own hastily scrawled rule at the bottom of the paper that said, “For royal weddings, there is no such thing as going over the budget. Saying that no amount of money can pay for the happiness you feel at your union will score you many many points and ensure a very satisfying honeymoon. Based on experience. Also, invest in a soundproofing artifact if you or your wife do not have the [Wind] attribute.”

Apparently, Roland himself had undergone his own trials and tribulations leading up to his wedding, but had completely lucked out by saying the above on pure reflex, clearing away all of Stella’s frustrations with him. Reivan hadn’t realized it at the time because he was just a kid with the soul of a maidenless virgin who was bedridden his whole life—there was no way in hell he would know anything about weddings.

In comparison, Helen was relatively calm about the ceremony itself. Her primary concern was the “getting married” part, which warmed his heart because that was his main concern as well. The ceremony was for everybody else to enjoy and celebrate with them and she was just happy of the fact that they would become husband and wife.

Or so she says. Though she wasn't exactly lying, she still wasn't entirely uninterested in the matter.

Now, his mother and Stella were very concerned about the wedding details. And he had understandably been avoiding them when the topic looked like it would shift to the wedding specifics. Considering the gradually nearing date, this was starting to happen much more frequently.

Helen, the sweet girl that she was, helped him distract them by expressing doubts about her dress or something.

‘We aren’t even married for real yet and she’s already helping me fight off my family. She’s a keeper, alright. I’m marrying that girl no matter what!’

In any case, he would abandon thoughts of that for now. He was to meet Gwen and Jiji to talk about the post he would be taking up shortly after his wedding.

The moment he entered the office he’d neglected for months, he was met with the sight of Gwendolyn serving Jiji tea as the latter leisurely sat on one of the sofas while stroking a white kitten on her lap—the same white kitten who was actually a young panther and who used to be Reivan’s spirit beast.

“Don’t boss Gwen around.” Reivan immediately scolded his little sister even as he walked to his desk. "She has better use for her time."

Jiji shrugged. “She offered. I merely accepted.”

“I see.” He nodded, sitting down and turning to Gwen instead. “Don’t spoil her, Gwen. Make a servant do it. We have many. You’re going to receive a very important post soon and it won’t do to have you serve anyone tea.”

“Understood.” The knight placed the teapot she’d been holding on the table and walked over to stand beside him. “I will rectify this before the position is officialized.”

Reivan then turned to the last remaining creature in the room, who was purring in his sister’s hands. Having nothing to say, he merely sighed. “Right. Well, let’s get on with it. What’s the damage? What am I going to be called now?”

Jiji snickered impishly, covering her mouth with a fan as her eyes squinted in schadenfreude. “Congratulations. On top of retaining your title as Prince Reivan, you will soon be granted the additional title of Hierarch.”

“Oh, god…” he lamented as he laid his head on the table in defeat. “Why can’t we just make it a republic again?”

Gwen tilted her head. “Are you asking seriously or…?”

Reivan waved his hand dismissively. “No, ignore that. And so? What is the nation I will soon be ruling be called?”

‘Fuck. I tried to escape the crown and it still caught up to me. Well, it’s a different one and I don't have to kill my siblings for it, but still.’

The post that his brother assigned to him—the eldest male royalty aside from the king or a former one—was to be the leader of an entirely new nation in what used to be the old republic.

A vassal nation or a protectorate, in other words.

Its purpose wasn’t to serve some kind of loophole in the Treaty of Alexander though, because there was no such thing. The goal of the new nation was to disconnect the kingdom and its reputation from whatever goes on in the protectorate.

As such, if the governance of the protectorate went south or suffered some monumental failure, the prestige of the royal family would escape too much damage.

Now, that sounded like a plot to have Reivan take the fall for something. And in one of those stories where the royal family hated each other’s guts, that would be true. But that wasn’t the case here. Reivan was going to receive sincere support from the kingdom, no doubt about that.

It was just a precaution. And it also enabled the kingdom to take more… drastic measures to discipline a potentially rebellious population.

‘Well, it’s not like it matters much to me.’

He was perfectly fine being the fall guy because he couldn’t care less what a world full of strangers thought of him. What mattered was how the people who mattered viewed him. His parents, his brothers and sisters, the rest of his extended family, his friends, and the other knights. Only their voices held relevance in his mind.

The others were just noise.

Of course, if the former Arkhanians behaved, they would be treated well. But the kingdom didn’t have a policy of treating disobedience with kindness. Though it treated its citizens well, the kingdom at its core was authoritarian after all.

Reivan looked at the extremely dependable Dame Gwendolyn and the annoyingly snickering sister of his, who was now feeding Sen some sort of fishy paste.

These two ladies would be his biggest helpers. After all, Ascendants and Transcendents weren’t allowed to meddle in mortal conflicts—which included the annexation of what used to be the Magitechnocratic Republic of Arkhan. Well, part of it, at least.

Apparently, that would now include extra-territorial management and other non-combat roles such as logistics. This thankfully didn’t apply to mainland Aizen, however, but also exempted Argonia’s capital region.

Breaking the oath would both injure the Transcendent on their side and evict them from the signatories, and no side wanted that. The first consequence in particular.

The Treaty of Alexander made it so that only mortals could truly participate in the territory grab that would shake Sentorale. It would be to the extent that if Reivan ventured outside Aizen, he would refuse aid from an Ascendant knight even if he would die from it.

‘It’s a good thing we have plenty of talented mortals!’

The knights were teaming with capable warriors.

And if Aizen was really put on the back foot, they even had the peacekeepers to utilize. Though they didn't have soul armaments and weren't trained as extensively as knights, they were still a force to be reckoned with. They were numerous too. Their numbers far exceeded the knights.

Argonia could suck his nuts because he had Gwen on his roster too. And Jiji as well, he supposed. They would be the spine of his administration. And because they were strong individuals, there was a lowered risk of them getting assassinated. At the very least, their enemies would have to try much harder.

Truthfully, he was just a figurehead and these two would likely be doing most of the governing. Naturally, they would be helped by a carefully selected host of young ministers willing to serve overseas.

Local administrative talent would be procured to bolster the numbers though.

“The capital is going to be Lageton, I suppose?” Reivan raised a brow, voicing his own expectations. “It’s the closest to the kingdom. And its population would be the easiest to integrate into our rule because of frequent contact with our people.”

Gwen nodded. “That is the case, and I have already laid out some groundwork there.”

“You have?” Jiji tilted her head. “Since when?”

“Since news of the Sage King’s elimination reached me.”

Both Reivan and Jiji made noises of admiration. He then asked the question that popped into his mind. “The recruited battlemages?”

“Have been gathered in Lageton to bolster our forces in the colonization of Arkhan,” Gwen said. “The ones referred to as silver cloaks have been sent here, however.”

Reivan’s brows shot up. “They have?”

“Ah, I think I heard something to that effect,” Jiji muttered as she teasingly played with Sen using her tail, letting the excited kitten chase after the tip. “I think His Majesty’s going to make them take oaths of knighthood. Ascendants fulfill the minimum condition soul armaments ask for by default, after all.”

This time, it was Reivan and Gwen’s turn to be surprised.

‘That’s… Certainly efficient, but a big step.’

There was a weight to the title of “Knight” in the kingdom.

One’s very presence demanded both respect and awe the moment they became one. Plenty of little boys and girls trained as squires, sacrificing both their teens and their twenties just for a chance at joining the order—only to fail because they lacked the talent. Their last chance would be to serve as peacekeepers and get knighted when they Ascend, but the difficulty of such an endeavor was obvious to all.

Of course, this wasn’t just the kingdom being unnecessarily strict with who they grant knighthood to. Rather, it was a requirement to obtain a Soul Armament, the aspect that set aside a Knight from everyone else.

And to get one, a person had to have unlocked their qi before the age of thirty.

Ascendants, no matter the age they unlocked their qi, could bypass this rule though. Of course, they would still have to feel a certain level of intention to serve the crown for eternity—which should disqualify most of the silver cloaks from success.

But more than that, what mattered was the societal impact of inducting these foreign forces into the hallowed order of knighthood.

‘This is a pretty ambitious thing to do, dear brother of mine.’

Should the oath succeed, there would be no worries about the silver cloaks betraying national interests. Knightly oaths weren’t as flimsy as the ones used by the Tower. There were no loopholes and no way to violate them. You couldn’t even do it at the cost of your life because your body would literally refuse to take harmful actions against the crown.

Even though it was practical and the royal family extolled practicality when allowed—this was only when it was allowed.

Personally, Reivan wouldn’t have made the same decision if he were in Roland’s place. He had sparred extensively with squires and knights. Trained with them, too. His very lifestyle was a mimicry of how normal knights lived, modified to suit a member of royalty.

That was why he held enormous respect for anyone in this profession. It was hard enough even with his talent. Just how tough did ordinary aspirants have to live to finally get the chance at knighthood? Some squires who fail to unlock their qi on time even enter the peacekeepers with the very slim hope of becoming an Ascendant, becoming knights later on in life.

What right did a bunch of foreigners have to join their order?

They lived completely different lives and obtained power in completely different ways. And while that power wasn’t worthy of disdain, it was not worthy of this particular honor. He would stand by that opinion even at blade point. For sure, a lot of people—probably the vast majority of Aizen, even—would feel the same way.

‘This is a very dangerous move, brother…’

It had the possibility of turning public sentiment against the crown. Heck, the knights would probably go along with it too, but most of them wouldn’t like it. Reivan, naturally, wouldn’t try anything drastic like, say, stealing the throne or something. But he would still try his best to advise his brother against this.

‘Ah. Wait a minute. If Jiji knows this already, then she must’ve realized it too. Besides, Brother’s no idiot.’

As expected, there was a glint in his sister’s eye and even Gwen seemed to have very little reaction to the news.

Reivan realized that he had been overthinking. Turning to his sister, he grimaced as he demanded answers. “Go on. Spit it out. I’m sure he’s not just going to induct them into the knight order.”

Jiji giggled. “You’re right. But take a guess.”

Seeing no harm in a bit of brain exercise, Reivan leaned back and thought about it. The cogs in his mind turned, rustily, until a satisfying enough answer came to him.

‘The problem here is the title itself. Not that they’ll be granted Soul Armaments or swear the same oaths. Knights wouldn't refuse capable allies if it would advance the nation's interests. They'd love it, actaually.’

The solution that clicked into place in his head was simple. But oftentimes, simple problems were solved by simple solutions.

“They’re not going to be called Knights, are they?” Reivan stroked his chin. “Probably something else.”

“Well done, Your Excellency, Hierarch Reivan,” Jiji complimented with a teasing smile. “As a matter of fact, the success cases will be referred to as Spellswords. This will be for any knighted mage of any level. Now or in the future.”

“Don’t call me that…” he grumbled, but nodded. As he'd expected, his brother's head was still working well. With that out of the way, he inquired about something else he was curious about. “Is the old man still transporting the Sanctuary? It’s been two weeks already.”

Anything that took a Transcendent two whole weeks to do was a truly monstrous task. And moving the fragment of the spirit world called “The Sanctuary” that was responsible for supplying the Spirit Tower’s battlemages with spirit beasts was apparently one of them.

The Sword Star had sneakily hidden it away from the War God when Vel Ayala was sacked.

That wasn’t even all that Sir Rolf stole. The First Knight even snatched away the four floating islands surrounding the Spirit Tower and the Spirit Tower itself, transporting them all to Lageton. This was a lot easier than moving the Sanctuary, apparently.

‘The Four Magus Clans have agreed to defect to Aizen, huh…?’

But then again, if one of the Transcendents who killed the strongest person on your side offered a much more amicable way to survive, few would actually choose the death and eradication of their bloodline. The major clans definitely made the right call, though he couldn’t say that their spinelessness was admirable.

Back when he was still roleplaying as Clover Salwyn, Reivan didn’t get to have much contact with the four major clans that made up the majority of upper-rank battlemages. But it seemed that would change now.

They would be a vital force in the vassal nation because he would use any knights he was granted command of sparingly. Each knight was extremely valuable, after all.

‘So much to think about…’

Reivan never wanted the crown. Mostly because he didn’t want to fight family over it. But also because he didn’t think he was a good fit for the role of a ruler. Plus, he wasn’t even the legitimate heir, so he lacked the footing to stand on even if he did want to be king.

Truly, fate was a bitch sometimes.

He may not have wanted the crown. But a crown had still found its way on his head.

'Eh. Let's give it the ole' college try.'

Arc#5 Prologue: The Scars of War

Filth trudged across the rubble left behind by what used to be a mountain.

Emphasis on "used to be". Because now, it was just a pile of shattered stone.

"Ugh..." he groaned, catching a whiff of the nauseating air in the surroundings. There was a gray smog as far as the eye could see and the only reason he hadn't suffocated to death was the magically enchanted cloth bandana he wore over his lower face. As for his eyes, the Brothers of Arkhan had given him a set of "goggles" or whatever they were called, so he wasn't too bothered.

For everything else, such as his ears and hair? He'd seen fit to cover as much as he could with cloth too, eliminating as much of his exposed skin as possible.

It had been a week since that day. The day Arkhan was upturned in just a few hours. And by command of his superiors, Filth had infiltrated the extremely patriotic organization called the "Sons of Arkhan". Surprisingly, it hadn't been that hard because they weren't exactly drowning in members.

Additionally, its members were quite aggressive and unscrupulous in their recruitment efforts. Each recruit was obligated to invite at least two people to the organization before they were officialized. Filth himself had made do with whoever he could get to agree, not particularly caring who they were or what they did in the past.

In any case, he'd succeeded in being officialized. But as the lowest rung in the organization, he was naturally relegated to the shittiest tasks—such as scouting out what used to be Arkhana, which was the nation's capital and the center of its administration.

'Great depths... All of this happened in just a couple of hours, huh...?'

The smog made things difficult, but an errant wind from the southern sea cleared things out for a few moments. That allowed Filth to truly marvel at the destruction wrought by the hands of a few unfathomable beings.

The buildings and landmarks like the Capitol Building among others, all full of rich history. A carefully laid out network of rails and roads, serving to connect settlements to each other. Humble people just looking to find a bit of happiness in their meager lives.

Gone. Just, gone.

All that remained was the ghost of their screams in the howling wind. Shadows of their suffering beyond the impenetrable smog. Or perhaps even that was a hallucination because as far as Filth knew, nobody had ever seen it coming.

It had been sudden. Instant, even.

Too fast to scream or be afraid. And too quick to suffer.

An ordinary day, shattered by an overwhelming instance of violence that no mortal could ever resist.

What used to be the jewel of the south, filled with sprawling buildings and bustling streets was now a mere crater. In fact, it was so close to the shores that Filth was convinced it would be swallowed by the sea if the tide got just a little higher—and it would, in just a few days if his experience sailing in this area was anything to go by.

Forgotten, as if it had never existed.

The ground had turned as gray as the ashen smog that plagued it, almost as if the land was utterly devoid of life and the ability to support it. It would take a long time to confirm because all the trees down to every blade of grass had been disintegrated. And if that wasn't enough, the air was tainted with a foul stench that would make even the most hardened sewer rats like Filth gag—which some smartasses called sulfur or brimstone.

'The kingdom knew about it too.'

Dame Gwendolyn, the beautiful lady knight who handled things while the prince was both away and present, had told Filth to stay away from the central areas of the republic for a while, abandoning all jobs. He had initially been confused at first, thinking that he was being forced into a small break. They did that sometimes, when he was deemed as working too hard. Aizen seemed really serious about that kind of thing.

But then this had happened.

And by now, Filth knew the kingdom had something to do with it. He didn't need to be a genius to figure it out. News had suddenly reached him over in the small town east of the republic that the Sage King was dead.

Even the Spirit Tower was no more, though it was just the organization that was disbanded. All things considered, Vel Ayala was quite intact if one ignored how the Spirit Tower was missing. Even the four floating islands were gone too, but the Lower City, filled with centuries of history, remained unmolested. But even that fact might not remain for long.

The War God and Argonia's strongest were apparently going around killing as many battlemages as they could—which, in turn, caused even more destruction. The fights lasted only for the rest of the day on that day, but the destruction caused everywhere would be remembered for decades if not centuries. While it could not compare to the sheer scale that Filth had seen throughout his survey of the lands, it was still nothing to scoff at.

Filth was pretty certain that the map had to be redrawn.

Aizen's feared knights joined in on the hunt for battlemages too, but they were apparently a lot more peaceful about it. Allegedly, they had recruited any battlemages they could find. Some of the people he'd met these past few days said so, and even the Sons of Arkhan snidely acknowledged that the Aizenians were currently preferable to the multiple imperial armies marching on their door from the north. When Dame Gwendolyn gave him the instructions to infiltrate the Sons of Arkhan, she had also mentioned that they planned to rally everyone in Lageton, which made sense, because it was the closest city to Aizen.

As for the government, surviving settlements still had their local government units but Filth was currently staring at where the capitol building used to be. And he was quite sure the president and all of the other important politicians weren't hosting tea parties under all that ash and rubble. Obviously, they had all perished in the initial conflict.

Even without the loss of the highest political entities, the republic's government was in turmoil. Local governors could do nothing of substance but keep their own cities from devolving into utter anarchy.

Surprisingly, the Sons of Arkhan was doing a whole lot better. While the government was floundering about, accomplishing nothing, they were already sending out new members to survey the damages.

‘Am I… On the right side?’

Well, this side paid more and his survival rate would go up. But what’s right isn’t always what’s easy.

The kingdom had seemed like the side that cared for the little guys like Filth. They treated him like he was actually a person and valued his skills. Even the relatively important figures didn’t talk down to him or treat him like dirt.

Yet they had still consented to… to this. In fact, they might not have just consented. They may have participated too.

"Hey, are you tired? Why are you stopping? Or can you see the capital already?"

Filth looked behind him to make sure he wasn't just hallucinating a conversation partner. Again. That seemed to happen a lot when one was alone so much.

Behind him was a young woman named Leila, though one would have terrible difficulty knowing she was a woman because she was covered with layers upon layers of clothing to protect against the ash and dust. Naturally, she also had a mask like Filth's, goggles, and wrapped every part of her head she could with cloth.

She was one of the people Filth recruited into the Sons of Arkhan, and was the survivor of a fight between battlemages and enemy Ascendants whose affiliation she didn’t know. Obviously, she hadn’t been participating in it. But was close enough to be affected.

In a sense, she was also both lucky and unlucky. Because she’d been tasked with gathering herbs that day, she had been spared the fate of being melted off the face of the planet by some kind of light beam. On the other hand, she was the last of her village. The other villagers, her acquaintances, her friends, her family, and even the man she was supposed to marry were mixed in with the soil that had turned into glass because of the heat.

She had been aimlessly spending the past few days in the town closest to her village when Filth found her. Or rather, she had overheard him recruiting someone else and volunteered in their place.

According to her, she wanted to do something. Anything. Perhaps aiming to distract herself from what happened to her.

‘Poor thing.’

"I'm okay." Filth gestured at the crater. “Just wondering what could have happened to warrant all this destruction. I think it's time to go back to report that the capital's just a massive crater now."

Leila silently followed his gesture and shuddered. He couldn’t see her expression at the moment, but he got the impression that she was grimacing hard. “Those fucking bastards…”

Unable to do anything but nod, Filth led the way back in the direction they had come from.

Train tracks leading to the capital were no more and so were the roads, so coming there would have been a long and dangerous affair. Fortunately, monsters weren’t spared the misfortune of being collateral damage, so they didn’t have to worry about being predated on by some feral beast. But transportation was still a problem, especially with the thick ashen smog.

Luckily, the Sons of Arkhan saved the day again. Really, Filth was starting to think they weren’t so bad after all.

“Oi~! You’re back!”

Filth squinted from behind his goggles, giving it a good wipe with his thumb to clear up the dust blocking his vision. He recognized the voice and walked toward it, but the smog had gotten thick again so he couldn’t see very far. And the goggles he'd just wiped were fucking dusty again. Eventually, he managed to vaguely make out the shadowy silhouette of a man waving his arms above his head.

“How’d he see us from so far away…?” Leila muttered from a bit behind him.

Wondering the same thing, Filth couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

After a bit of walking and almost tripping over a broken piece of rubble partially hidden in the gray sand, Filth reunited with the other person he’d recruited—Lospar, who was dressed similarly to the two of them.

He wasn’t the person Filth was trying to recruit when Leila interrupted him. That had been a bust when the guy asked about the salary—which was zero, because the Sons of Arkhan didn’t pay out a salary. Who could have guessed that rebel organizations didn't earn a lot? Everybody with a brain, probably.

Filth had saved Lospar from giant sewer rats a few months ago. Ironically, he’d been tracking the Sons of Arkhan when he met the guy, who was running away from debt collectors. Months later, when the two reunited, Lospar had happily agreed to sign up as long as he was fed. It was a good thing that was all he asked for, because the Sons at least provided supplies.

‘Well, it would have still been fine anyway since Dame Gwendolyn sent me off with three months worth of rations.’

But those were for emergencies. And he’d attract unwanted attention if he had that much food on him. Actually, just a spatial artifact as spacious as the one he was hiding was suspicious enough for most—hence, why he was hiding its existence.

As for the debt collectors Lospar owed money to, they probably wouldn’t be enthusiastic about hunting people down during this time of chaos. Filth would really have to hand it to them if they continued to do so. Such impressive work ethic just inspired admiration, in a way.

“Why are you over here…?” Filth looked around. “And where are the steeds?”

“Over there,” Lospar said, pointing somewhere. “I found a cave. Well, something kind of like a cave. Thought we could take a break there before making the trip back. My fucking ass is sore and my balls need some dusting.”

“Ew." Leila grimaced, but soon nodded before turning to Filth for confirmation. "He has a bit of a point though. My feet are killing me.”

Not having a reason to refuse, Filth shrugged. “May as well.”

“Great! Follow me,” Lospar said as he led the way. "It's just up ahead."

It took two minutes of trudging through the upturned earth and pushing through the smog for Filth to see a giant chunk of stone shaped in a way that part of it acted as a kind of roof over a depression on the ground.

Within were two vehicles redesigned from magitech carriages. Except these were meant to be mounted like horses instead of boarded, which was the reason they were called “steeds”. They were a lot faster than horses or carriages, ridiculously maneuverable, and they also wouldn’t complain about journeying through the foul smog.

That didn’t come without consequence, however. They were smaller than carriages and could only be ridden by two people at most—three if they really squeezed in. The riders were also without a roof to shelter them against the elements.

All of that aside, they were perfect vehicles for their current duties. Filth didn’t know why, but the steeds also had some kind of black material wrapped around the metal wheels that made the journey through uneven terrain much easier. It had a durable softness that was somewhat stubborn too. He wished he knew enough words to describe the feeling.

After reaching the cave, the three sheltered under the rock and sat on the gray earth. They could have taken out rations to chew on, but the smog reached the cave as well, if only a little. Catching a whiff of it would immediately banish their appetite so they’d have to leave it for later.

“What do you think is gonna happen now?” Lospar asked casually, though it betrayed the uncertainty of someone who was a bit lost as to what kind of life they would lead from this point on. “I mean, the brotherhood feeds us but… Is that it? We just eat crappy rations for the rest of our lives, or what?”

Leila nudged her head toward the direction of the former capital. “We're better off than those guys, at least.”

“Oh, right. What’s the situation over there, by the way? You guys came back awfully quick.”

“There was nothing to check. Arkhana’s a crater now. We could see it from afar thanks to the sea breeze blowing the ash back north.”

“Damn… I mean, people were speculating, but I was kind of holding out some hope, ya know? Was hoping that maybe the president could pull somethin' outta his ass. Or someone else in the capitol could.”

“I don’t know anymore.” Leila clenched her fists atop her lap. “I just don’t want to sit around and do nothing. I’ve done enough of that these past few days.”

Lospar grunted. “Well, the railway networks are entirely fucked, so cities big and small, and even towns, are gonna have to depend on their own stockpiles for food. That’s gonna run out real fast for industrial regions that depend on other regions for food supply.”

“I don’t really get that kind of thing.”

“Eh, it’s not that complicated.” The man chuckled. “Just think of your village. Not everyone worked to grow food, yeah? Some did stuff like fixing up tools or patrolling to fend off small monsters. Am I right?”

Leila nodded. "Yeah. You got it."

“They’re all important people in the village, no? What did those guys do for food over there?”

“The chief and the others gave them some in exchange…” Leila trailed off quietly. “Okay, I think I get what you’re saying.”

Lospar laughed. “Yep, it’s that. The industrial regions, like south of Vel Ayala and those to the east, are focused on the production side of things. Regions to the north and west are more on agriculture and stuff. It’s a circle, see? The farming regions send food to the industrial regions and the latter send over tools and all sorts of stuff. Bullets and combat golems, for one thing.”

“And that depended on the railway systems?”

“Yep. Used to be, we kind of had a bit of everything everywhere. But with the trains, regions chose to specialize. More efficient, ya know?"

Leila groaned. "That's not good."

"You said it. It’s gonna bite everyone in the ass now that the railways are all messed up. Monsters are an issue, though most of 'em probably kicked the bucket now. Heard a buncha of sleeping volcanoes erupted too, and that's where some of the ash comes from. It's getting stupidly hot in Vel Ayala's vicinity too and it's spreading outward for some reason... Ah, and I heard Argonia declared war, so there’s that. Curse the depths, Arkhan's all kinds of fucked right now.”

Filth idly listened, contemplating the probability that he could get Aizen to accept these people too. But it wasn’t as if he got to decide that. He wasn’t exactly a citizen either. Just someone who worked for a guy who lived there.

‘Argonia declared war…’

If that was true, wasn’t the republic well and truly finished? With the Sage King dead, they didn’t have anyone to keep the War God in check. And looking at the destruction wrought on the lands, it was made glaringly clear just how fearsome a Transcendent was.

There was no defying that level of violence.

Filth had never truly understood just how strong those lofty beings were. Prince Reivan alone was already such an insurmountable figure in both battle and status. And apparently, any random Ascendant could kill the prince with less effort than it took to chew a mouthful of bread.

What, then, did that say about Transcendents? They could kill Ascendants with great ease, after all. That's what everybody says, as far as he heard. The scale of power was so grand that Filth couldn’t really imagine it. All he knew was that a lot of people in the world could end his pitiful life without lifting a finger—and Transcendents just happened to be one of them.

Now, however, he finally realized. Just how tiny everyone else was.

It was horrifying, thinking about how hundreds of thousands—maybe even millions—of people were slain unintentionally by a handful of people fighting each other. Like how two drunkards in a tavern, upending tables in their brawl and dropping plates on the floor.

All that death and destruction?

It was just collateral damage. The Transcendents hadn't meant to do so much harm. But they did. Unintentionally. Like bumping elbows while trying to cross a crowded street.

Filth found his fists clenching despite himself.

He discovered his special gift and even received the attention of a country’s prince because of it. His head may have inflated a little after that. But now, he was reminded of just how insignificant he truly was.

Like a leaf, all he could do when the wind blew was get swept away. No resistance. No choice. Just, the consequences of actions he didn’t take.

“You good there, Fil?” Leila called out his alias. “You suddenly went quiet.”

Filth looked up and smiled, before remembering he was masked. Instead, he shook his head and waved a hand. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Maybe I'm a little tired… about all this.”

Lospar sighed loudly. “Who wouldn’t be? I almost wish I could go back to the time I was still being hounded by debt collectors.”

Leila and Filth chuckled at that. True enough. At that time, Lospar’s greatest problem was which alleys to pass through or which shacks to hide in. Now? Nobody knew if anywhere was safe. A bunch of Ascendants could suddenly show up and fight nearby. Then what? What could a bunch of puny mortals whose greatest offensive option was a gun do?

Biting his lip in hesitation, Filth eventually decided to divulge some of the information he knew. Even though he really shouldn’t. Surely, it would be fine. “I heard Aizen’s gathering people in Lageton. Reinforcing it and handing out food.”

“Yeah?” Lospar asked, surprised. “I don’t think I’ve heard anything about that. And I’ve been hanging around in all the right places for information gathering before you picked me up, Fil. Is this info from a reliable source?”

Filth nodded. He heard it from a knight, so it was a lot more dependable than anything they’d ever hear in some seedy tavern. “The east and southeast are still mostly intact.”

“Huh. Guess they want a piece of the pie too,” Lospar muttered to himself. “Well, who wouldn’t, I suppose. It’s free land. Nobody would pass up free land and free labor.”

Leila hung her head. “So the two nations are gonna split the republic up? Is that it? Or can we fight back?”

Filth shook his head. “Doubt it. The Sage King’s dead, so nobody can stop them.”

“Yeah.” Lospar agreed with a sigh. “It’s sad to say, but the republic isn’t a player in this game of cards anymore. Aizen and Argonia? Their only enemies are each other now. What’s left of Arkhan can only hope they’re treated well by whoever lays claim to their particular part of the continent.”

“Then is there even a point? To this, I mean,” Leila said with bitterness. “I joined the brotherhood to do something. But in the end, it’s powerless against these nations too. Just like we were before we joined.”

Both Filth and Lospar remained silent, because she wasn’t necessarily wrong.

Still, it seemed Lospar was more optimistic. “Well, it’s better than doing nothing. Who knows, our chance might come. Maybe the Sword Star and the War God kill each other. Or one of the battlemages that escaped that day becomes a Transcendent.”

“There’s always a chance if you keep on living…” Filth muttered, earning looks from his cavemates. “I heard it somewhere.”

“It’s a good anecdote, definitely.” Lospar raised his thumb in approval. “Cheer up, Leila.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Damn, you’re hard to please. Little brat.”

“Hah? Who're you calling a brat, old man?”

Filth stood up before the two ended up arguing. Again. They’d only been together for two days, so he would need to give them time to actually get along. “It’s about time to go. The escape point might expire if we leave too soon.”

The other two nodded and stood up too.

Only two steeds were available, and Leila couldn’t figure out how to drive one. Lospar was apparently a magitech carriage driver for some wealthy guy before he got addicted to something and fell into debt. The controls were a lot different but he’d already proven his proficiency.

As such, Filth mounted one steed while Lospar took the other one. As for Leila, she hopped behind Filth and held onto his shoulders.

With the flip of a switch, the steeds roared to life. Filth leaned forward a little to wrap his fingers around each handle. Leila readjusted her hands to Filth’s waist since his shoulders were a bit too far. She must have been nervous about falling off, but despite that, wasn’t holding on very tightly.

That’s why, before taking off, Filth took a moment to securely wrap her arms around his waist. It’d be disastrous if she really fell, after all. The steeds were quite fast because they were so much lighter than magitech carriages, so an unexpected fall would likely cause more than a light bruise—especially to what had been an ordinary village girl.

It was the same set of events as earlier, before they made the trip here. He wished she’d start taking safety more seriously and grabbing onto him properly from the start.

“Lospar, you got everything in order?” Filth looked to the other steed rider. “Didn’t forget anything, right? Once we go through an escape point, we can’t go back through it.”

“I’m good to go.” Lospar nodded, starting up his own steed. “Race you there.”

And with that, he took off.

“Curse the depths…” Filth muttered, earning a giggle from the girl behind him. “Hold on tight.”

Leila responded by literally tightening her arms around his waist, which was good. She definitely wasn’t going to fall off now.

With one final glance in the direction of what had once been the capital, Filth’s steed surged forward as thoughts of a kind but foul-mouthed orphanage director plagued his mind.

When he had the time, he'd pour an entire bottle of wine into the ground to send the guy off.

════════════════════════════════

The Escape Point they were supposed to take was set southwest of where the capital used to be, so the three of them rode through the gray wastelands to reach it.

With how fast their steeds tore through the lands, they reached it rather easily. And probably because it was close to the sea, where the southern wind was blowing from, the smog was absent here.

As such, the other two saw fit to take off their masks and head wrappings. But not their goggles, since their eyes weren't exactly immune to dust.

Lospar was a surprisingly old man despite his youthful voice full of cheerfulness. He even had a glorious mustache and a beard long enough to reach his collar. Streaks of silver adorned his dark brown hair and he had quite a chiseled jawline—which Filth was forced to constantly look at from the side because they were riding parallel to each other.

As for Leila, she was a charming young lady with milky white skin. She was certainly lovely and quite a stunner, but nothing much compared to the refined beauty he saw in Dame Gwendolyn, the white-haired princess with cat ears atop her head, or the aloof lady that his true employer would marry soon.

Seeing those three had truly widened his horizons on the subject of just how pretty a human being could be. They had also ruined him, in a way, because everyone else was uglier in comparison. Hopefully, he’d fix his eyes after not seeing them for a few months.

What stood out about Leila, though, was her peach-blonde hair. It looked luscious, voluminous, beautiful, and extremely well-maintained—which made it clear that a normal village girl shouldn’t have it. But it wasn’t Filth’s business to pry into whatever backstory Leila wanted to peddle.

She could be the long-lost daughter of the Sage King for all he cared.

“Ah! There it is. I can see it.” Lospar yelled as he pointed at something in the distance.

Squinting from behind his goggles, Filth was forced to admit that the elder gentleman’s eyes were something special. Because he couldn’t see anything until they rode for a few more minutes.

‘He was right.’

Filth beheld the seventh Escape Point he’d seen since joining the Sons of Arkhan.

Months before the republic was upturned, Dame Gwendolyn had tasked Filth with tailing people who allegedly belonged to the Sons of Arkhan. Ascendants could do it a lot more easily, but they might be detected by the republic’s Ascendants.

For very obvious reasons, that would be inconvenient. As such, it was better for him—someone who very few people could find—to do it instead.

And Filth did his job diligently. A lot of the time, it ended up being flops. The people he followed were just cranky bastards with nothing better to do than to blame their shitty lives on anyone but themselves.

Sometimes, though, he struck gold.

Filth would follow them into clandestine rendezvous points within abandoned shacks. Sometimes in fancy hotels. Hell, sometimes he’d follow them into the sewers where he would have run-ins with giant rats or cockroaches.

But every single time, they’d just vanish into thin air for some inexplicable reason. And no, he didn’t just lose sight of them in a crowd or look away the second they dropped down some kind of hidden trap door. He’d shadowed them from literally right beside them and had his eyes peeled but still lost them.

Filth was pretty sure that Dame Gwendolyn just thought his failures were because he was slacking off, so he really worked hard to prove her wrong by actually gaining some results. But no matter how he tried, he still couldn’t figure out how the bastards kept disappearing.

He didn’t have an infinite number of the Sons to follow, so he was in a bit of a dilemma. The ones he would find were surprisingly disciplined too, not saying anything about what they were doing even though they were alone together.

Because of the string of failures, Filth was going crazy with frustration. He had half a mind to just kidnap one of them, but most of the members he spotted were stronger than him or otherwise kept in tight-knit groups, thereby starving him of opportunities to catch one off guard.

And that was when Filth was ordered to join the Sons of Arkhan instead.

Shortly after he got accepted, he was also told to stay in specific cities and not to step foot anywhere else. This was with the warning of avoiding certain regions—some of which had been Vel Ayala and Arkhana.

Now, however, he was back. And he’d even recruited two new members.

Back then, he had joined the information-gathering team thinking he could glean some information from it. But it was quite literally the information-gathering team. Not the information-sharing team. All he could do was give to the organization, never receive.

Frustrating, yes. But Dame Gwendolyn had been fine with it because it allowed them an opportunity to feed the brotherhood false information. Or legitimate information that would lure them into action.

In any case, by joining the brotherhood, Filth came to know of these “Escape Points”.

Basically, they were one-way teleportation spots that could only be seen and used by people who were allowed to see them. Apparently, they could be remotely set up literally anywhere in the nation and would lead to a so-called “Safe Zone.”

Appearance-wise, they looked like a cube-shaped white crystal floating off the ground. Just being close to it and wanting to use it was enough to activate the escape point. Hell, it could even bring whatever vehicle the user was riding on.

They did, however, expire.

Filth wasn’t privy to all the information about them. All he knew was that they teleported people. They could be made to appear anywhere in the nation. And if he was told to use it before a certain time, he should—because it would expire and it wasn’t possible to form an Escape Point there for a while.

It was all very valuable information, according to Dame Gwendolyn. Filth even got praised, which made him quite happy because it came from such a drop-dead gorgeous beauty.

She figured that the Escape Points were made by someone’s gift.

Kind of like how Filth could turn imperceptible while Prince Reivan could just ignore that. Oh, and Dame Gwendolyn could do it too, apparently. Which was frustrating in all sorts of ways. Now there were two of them.

Anyway, Filth was to continue infiltrating the organization and try to advance his authority within it to figure out who possessed the gift. What would be done to said person was entirely out of Filth’s hands though. Maybe they'd get caught so Aizen could convince them to join the kingdom the same way Filth did. Or perhaps they'd be killed.

Filth didn't exactly not care. But he was a bit more concerned with what was going to happen to the republic in these chaotic times.

'We should be in range now.'

The three of them stopped their steeds just close enough to touch the cube. They would have to time their teleportation together and also stop moving because they didn’t want to crash into any walls or fall off a cliff if the so-called safe zone had those.

“On three.” Filth raised three fingers. “One…”

“Wait,” Leila tapped him on the shoulder. “Do we go on three or go…?”

“Three. I just said so. I’m not going to say go.”

It was Lospar who slapped his head as if he’d realized something. Clearly, Leila wasn’t the only one who would have gotten it wrong if he hadn’t clarified it.

Filth sighed, wondering how he’d gone from slave to a prince’s retainer, before finally ending up as a spy-slash-rebel. All in just under a year.

'Well, it's better than being dead in a ditch, I guess.'

Being alive was really hard sometimes though. Dead people definitely didn't have to go through so much trouble to make a living.

Arc#4 Epilogue: The Angel in the Dark

Under the dark cyan sky, Viktor Suprana idly stared out into the bleak and horrifying landscape that filled the world they knew as the Outlands.

Or what he could see of it, that is. Which, to be honest, wasn't very far.

Because of Outland's strange fog, an Ascendent's seventh sense was made useless in this place. Ironically, that meant his hearing—far superior to that of a human's—was a lot more useful here than anywhere else. That made him a worthy commander of the investigation team sent out to search for clues of a sentient civilization—of which they've found a lot in previous expeditions.

This expedition was a tad bit different, however, given how far they were from the portal as well as the sheer number of Ascendant knights involved. Excluding him and his assigned adjutant, there were a whopping one hundred Ascendants in this party. A staggering force capable of leveling a nation in minutes if left to their own devices. None of them were newbies either, every single one of them being experienced veterans who’ve been in service longer than Viktor’s life.

It would be a tremendous loss for Aizen if their entire contingent was wiped out by some random Transcendent Nightmare Spawn, though. This was also why they'd spent months sending out feelers before fully investing in a long expedition.

Plus, they had their own preparations. Even if a Transcendent did show up out of nowhere, Viktor and the others wouldn't be utterly helpless. They'd all likely end up dead, sure. But at least they'd take the other side with them.

'What a shitty place. Wonder what happened to make it like this... Or was it like this from the start? Hmm...'

The soil was black with a mysterious corruption that nobody, not even the Sword Star, could completely fathom. Trees looked like they were simply shadows shaped to mimic plant life. His hypersensitive nose might as well have fallen off from the putrid stench that filled the air, seemingly a mix of brimstone, the gunk you found in swamps, and a moldy pair of socks. In essence, it smelled like everything horrible you could think of put together and it took all his willpower just to stop himself from gagging.

It was a horrid place to be in and he really wished he never had to come back. Of course, he knew that he had to, but one couldn't fault a man for dreaming, right?

"Commander. It's time to switch."

"Right. Thanks." Viktor looked back and found a knight decked head to toe in armor, which wasn't strange because everybody was constantly in full knightly regalia at all times. Even him.

One never knew what could show up around here, after all.

"You know you don't have to join the watch, Sir Viktor." The knight, who Viktor recognized as a knight with a penchant for womanizing, emerged from the thick white mist, which was noticeably different from the one that hindered perception in the Outlands.

"Eh, I'd feel bad if I didn't." Viktor shrugged with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Plus, I'd have to deal with Her Majesty more often if I stay in camp."

"Pff. C'mon, she's not that bad. People'd think you were talking about the queen if they heard you."

"You don't have her as an adjutant, so you don't get to say anything."

“Ah, well, knights normally don’t work together like this. So you could say having an adjutant at all is a privilege.”

“Privilege, my ass. Anyway, I’ll try to get some rest before we depart. Stay sharp out here.”

“Will do, Commander. Will do.”

Viktor gave his colleague a friendly tap on the shoulder before walking past him, into the thick white mist that both concealed and protected their camp. The moment his skin made contact with it, he immediately felt the mist "accept" him. In a short moment, his perception linked with the mist, allowing him to know everything that happened everywhere it occupied. It was a normally impossible phenomenon in the Outlands, but here it was anyway.

Within the mist was a modest camp where around fifty Ascendants were sitting cross-legged in the air, meditating to recover their essence or chewing on rations to stave off the boredom. The others were just outside of the mist, serving as lookouts for anything too powerful for the mist to kill on its own.

Placed around the campsite, as if to act as a border, were seven sword-like banners with the Aizenian wolf embroidered with threads of gold on blue. These were gifts from the Sword Star that the old man had apparently been making precisely for the day he left the portal unattended.

There were twenty such banners, refined by a Transcendent for centuries. The other thirteen had been placed around the portal in case anything thought they could get lucky. With these Transcendent artifacts, the expedition wouldn’t be unconditionally wiped out by a passing Transcendent.

Hopefully.

Well, they still could, but at least the other side would have to bleed for it. They would just have to wish that the threatening aura released by the banners warded off the true monsters of this place.

As for his adjutant, who was responsible for the strange white mist serving as their only way to increase perception in this damned place, she was likely within the only structure in the entire camp—a small hut.

It was made of earth that looked like normal stone, which didn't exist in the Outlands. And since she herself didn't have the earth attribute, she must have ordered someone else to build it for her. It was especially apparent given how much essence was packed into it, making the unsuspecting hut a surprisingly good protective structure.

'Abuse of authority...'

Viktor didn't bother trying to stop himself from sighing. It wasn't such a big deal, really. The hut looked like it could take a couple of hits from an Ascendant before it went down, so it would serve to shield a high-value member of their party who single-handedly made this expedition feasible.

But what annoyed him was how the woman inside probably didn’t care about that. She just wanted her own closed-off space. He had to listen to her intermittent complaints about it these past few weeks so he could tell.

‘Bah, whatever. It feels like I’ll lose if I get angry.’

A few of the knights around him opened their eyes to greet him with a nod as he passed by. He returned the greeting with a nod of his own, unwilling to break the silence. Eventually, he made it to the earthen structure where all the mist was coming from, signaling that his adjutant was inside.

Strangely, he couldn’t perceive her at all. But given how she controlled the mist, she could probably prevent people from peering at her.

“Lamorak,” Viktor called out once he stepped inside. “Who the hell told you that building crap like this is okay?”

“Eh, what’s the harm? I’m trying so hard, don’t I deserve some perks? Like some gosh darned privacy? Privacy’s really important, you know?”

With a snort, Viktor noticed a wooden stool to the side of the room with his name carved into it for some reason so he graciously used it. His gaze then fell on the ebony-haired young woman lounging on a canopy bed placed smack dab in the middle of the hut.

‘Who the hell puts their bed in the middle of the room like that…? It's really bothering...’

Viktor decided not to ask. It didn’t really matter and he felt like the reason would piss him off.

Lamorak Mercer—one of the Twelve Helms and also given the title of “Mistweaver”—took a pull from her pipe and blew out a stream of smoke, all while smiling at him as if everything was right and peachy.

Like all the people who came from the Mercer bloodline, Lamorak looked like she was made to be the muse of a masterpiece-level painting. Dark hair and equally dark eyes, with pearly white skin—truly the trademark of the most respected family in Aizen other than the royal family. Her lithe and curvy figure was on display too, given how she—annoyingly enough—wasn’t wearing the gods damned armor she was supposed to wear at all times, instead opting for just her uniform.

That said, she had a certain edge to her presence that set off certain alarm bells in Viktor’s head. Something roiling off the top of her skin like a viscous shell. An armor of invisible malice. It was an instinctive thing that most people would miss.

Despite not knowing what it was called, Viktor wasn’t unfamiliar with it. He felt the same thing when looking at people of a certain specialization. The greatest examples he could think of were Valter and that insidious brat, Mordred.

Viktor’s nose wrinkled just a bit. Rather than blood, their scent evoked dark and sinister impressions on him, as if the countless lives they had reaped clung to them and festered.

It wasn’t as if Viktor was some kind of saint, nor did he think of himself as such. He, like them, had killed people too. Reaching his level of strength meant that he’d gotten into a few scraps.

There were Ascendants that had probably slain thousands or tens of thousands of people. But people like Valter, Mordred, and Lamorak were… different.

Viktor wouldn’t be able to describe it all that well. But he felt as if people like them had grown so proficient at killing that they derived some sort of twisted satisfaction out of it. A method. Or some kind of aesthetic.

Hell, the literal Sword Star had probably killed an insurmountable number of people in his extremely long and arduous life, yet Viktor didn’t feel that something from him.

Given the appearance of the portal to the Outlands and the relative peace with Aizen’s neighbors, most knights were a lot more experienced fighting Nightmares Spawns than people. As such, this breed of knights who were masters of killing fellow humans was rare and dying.

That made them stand out all the more to him.

‘Looks can truly be deceiving, sometimes.’

Who would have thought that this delicate beauty smoking drugs was such a person? Viktor certainly wouldn’t have, if he hadn’t noticed the signs.

“Don’t be so uptight, Commander. It’ll be fine. I can purge the effects any time I want,” Lamorak said with an easygoing smile as she offered her pipe. “Want some? It’s good stuff. Premium Skybliss leaves.”

“How can that even affect you when you’re an Ascendant…?”

“If I purposely let it, it’s fine. There’s a trick to it.”

“I should write you up for this.”

Lamorak let her head fall back on the bed, staring up at the canopy bed’s ceiling with a loose face. “I was starting to go on withdrawal… Cut me some slack, please? Look, I’ll even give you this thing I found.”

Viktor frowned, looking at the object that rolled over to his feet after being pushed out from under the bed by what he assumed to be the mist Lamorak was releasing from her bare feet.

‘What even is this?’

“It’s an Outland rock shaped like a wolf’s head. See?” she said, as if reading his thoughts.

Viktor picked it up and when he really tried to, he could see the resemblance to a wolf. There were signs that it was artificially shaped, so it wasn’t all that impressive. “You can’t fool me with this crap. What if the mist gets compromised while your mind’s three mountains Sword Sanctums high in the sky?”

Lamorak shook her head before briefly sitting up to take another puff. Right after, she let herself fall back into bed again. “The mist I make is already trained to act even without me babysitting it so it’s fine.”

“How does that even…” Viktor shook his head and sighed. He probably wouldn’t understand her explanation anyway. For some reason, talented kids from House Mercer were horrible teachers.

And among the talented, Lamorak was certainly up there. She was born with three elemental affinities, after all: those being the Mercer’s prided [Wind] along with her mother’s [Water]. Then she was randomly blessed with the [Fire] affinity too.

The Mistweaver was the result of tremendous talent, the optimal environment to raise a knight, and hard work. Viktor just wasn’t seeing the last part right now.

‘I heard she could force the mist inside through the pores and then boil people from the inside.’

He wasn’t sure how that would work against fellow Ascendants, but Viktor certainly didn’t want to be on the receiving end of a test run. Well, he could probably deal with it by freezing the mist, if he really had to. But judging by how seemingly little effort it took for her to produce enough mist to encompass such a large area, Viktor would likely lose in a battle of attrition.

They had sparred a decade or two ago and Viktor had beaten her along with all the other Twelve Helms. That had gotten him the title of the strongest knight below the Sword Star.

But that was just a spar.

Punches were pulled and the truly lethal techniques never came out. None of them wanted to kill their colleagues and rob the kingdom of strength. That was why even Viktor didn’t let the wins get to his head.

At the very least, the Everpresent and Mordred could kill him rather easily if they really wanted to, given their special skillsets and expertise. And maybe Lamorak could do it too, who knows?

‘Well, it’s good that I don’t ever have to think of a countermeasure for her because we’re on the same side.’

Viktor scoffed and stood up. “I wasted my breath here.”

“Leaving already?”

“I’m giving you that privacy you want so much.”

“I don’t actually mind you being here, y’know? Stay a while."

"And what? Drink tea and eat cookies?"

"If you have any, feel free to take 'em out. But other than that, we can chat about... uh... whatever it is people chat about these days. How about the weather?”

"Here? Weather's been the same as always. Dark and shitty."

"True enough."

Viktor rolled his eyes and left the hut, his perception of Lamorak and the hut’s interior immediately cutting off. He then picked a free spot on the floor and sat on the air a meter above it, preparing to meditate.

During his turn on the watch earlier, he only needed to take out four Ascendant Nightmare Spawns along with a few hundred mortal ones. He’d gotten away with just using brute force on those, so he actually didn’t need much rest. But he’d rather spend his free time restoring himself to full than loitering uselessly.

Just as he was about to begin, however, Lamorak suddenly burst out of her hut. She looked alert and quite unlike her previous appearance, making it very clear that something had happened. Her lack of manifested armor meant it wasn’t urgent though.

“What is it?” Viktor turned to her and raised a brow. “Found something?”

“You can say that.” Lamorak gestured to the north. Or what counted as north for them. Directions were a bit whimsical in this world. “Fly with me.”

“Just us?”

“It’s not that dangerous. Let the others rest.”

“What about the mist?”

“We won’t go far enough for it to matter. I don't need to be in the middle of it, you know? Come on.”

Viktor nodded and followed her lead. Despite her words, caution still dictated for him to take one of the Sword Banners from the campsite’s perimeter, implying that the others should readjust the other six. Unfortunately, these powerful artifacts destroyed any spatial artifact they were put in, so they had to be lugged around manually.

As they left the comforts of the white mist and reunited with Outland’s atrocious conditions, Viktor casually waved a dismissive hand at the other knights who’d been standing guard outside, signaling them that everything was fine and they should stay in their positions.

It didn’t take long for Lamorak to stop and point downward.

Now, Ascendants had their perception—their seventh sense—significantly hampered in the Outlands. Hampered didn’t mean disabled, however, so they exceeded a mortal’s vision even if they’d fully adapted to the Outlands. An Ascendant could still watch a mortal without them noticing at all.

A mortal like the one they were looking at.

“That thing doesn’t look like a spawn…” Viktor muttered as he squinted. “That doesn’t even look human.”

“Looks human enough to me,” Lamorak said with a grin. “Just, with large black wings. And half-naked.”

‘Wings…’

Viktor didn’t know of any races that had similar features. Even in his homeland in the Eastern Continent.

There were avian-type Warbeast tribes but none of them actually had wings while in human form. Sometimes, their legs would be bird-like. Most of the time, though, they would simply transform into a form that allowed flight after learning beastification, but had no flight capabilities before that whatsoever.

The entity he was watching was different.

They appeared just like an ordinary human teenage girl with a tunic that looked like it should accept its fate as a rag. Aside from the beautiful black wings sprouting from her back, she didn’t have any additional eyes or any other strange appendages.

The dark-haired girl was just a young lady with wings and strikingly red eyes.

‘She’s flying though. And quite fast for a mortal too. Interesting.’

It didn’t make sense how a human body could be supported by such small wings. It looked as if they were almost twice as tall as the person they were attached to, but the problem was how the wings weren't large in comparison to the weight of the person they were carrying. They must have been infused with some sort of racial ability—similar to how Warbeasts had Beastification and enhanced senses.

‘In any case…’

“Should we save her?” Lamorak asked. “There’s a high chance she belongs to the civilization we’ve seen signs of.”

The winged young woman was currently being chased by a small horde of nightmare spawns. And by small, Viktor meant a cute number of about three hundred. Hordes could grow up to tens of thousands after all.

All of the little bundles of monstrosity were mortals, however. If one of them had been an Ascendant, there wouldn’t have even been a chase. The girl would have already been digested or turned into something grotesque. Though the girl was doing quite well in fleeing mortal nightmares, that would become moot when an Ascendant came along.

‘Well, we finally found what we’ve been looking for. Can’t let the kid die.’

With a shrug, Viktor casually snapped his fingers and the entire horde of myriad nightmare spawns chasing the winged girl turned into ice statues for a moment before shattering into countless pieces.

Lamorak then began descending. “Let’s give our little damsel in distress a closer look, shall we?”

Viktor followed after he dematerialized his helm. He didn’t want the native to think he was some kind of metal golem or something. Once he reached the ground, Viktor immediately noticed that the girl was already talking.

In another language, that is.

The girl smiled with apparent relief and seemed to be thanking them. Viktor naturally couldn’t understand what he was saying, but the fact that their neighbors from the other side of the portal could express gratitude at all was a good sign that they could be reasoned with.

“I can’t understand a word she’s saying, Commander.” Lamorak turned to him with a disappointed look on her face. “And I was really interested in talking with someone from this side too.”

“Did you seriously expect we’d have a similar language to them?”

“Who’s to say we can’t? I mean, isn’t the concept of other worlds strange enough already?”

“This isn’t the time to talk about this crap. Let’s get back to the topic of the literal alien we’ve encountered.”

The moment they started talking, the girl tilted her head and started slowly backing away with caution.

‘Hm. Strange. She doesn’t seem to be confused about humans…?’

There was no wonder in the girl’s eyes or any attempt to confirm if Viktor and Lamorak had wings as she did. Furthermore, it was almost as if the girl considered the two of them immediate allies just for being humans. The only reason she reacted the way he did was because he discovered that they spoke different languages, making the girl realize that Viktor and Lamorak weren’t what she thought they were.

‘Are there humans here as well?’

That was, in his mind, not a wild assumption to make given all the clues.

“Hm?” Viktor grunted as he noticed the girl pointing somewhere. “What is it?”

The girl seemed agitated to say the least. In fact, she seemed about ready to grab them if she wasn’t so afraid of them. She was furiously pointing in a certain direction, trying to explain something in her language. Naturally, the two knights couldn’t understand a lick of whatever it was she was spouting.

“I don’t know about you, Commander.” Lamorak gestured at the winged girl. “But I think she’s asking for help.”

Viktor grunted as he stabbed the Sword Banner into the ground. “She could also be warning us that a horde of Transcendents are coming from that direction.”

“That’s a scary thought. We’d be goners for sure!” she exclaimed as she took out her pipe and a packet of skybliss. “Ah, well. It was a good life. Might as well use up as much of my stock as I can. Before I go, and all that. MMaybe if I'm high enough, I won't feel anything.”

“Stop wasting time and make a scout.” Viktor snarled.

“Haha. So uptight. I’m just kidding~! I’m already working on it. Look over there.”

Viktor, his brows furrowed, looked toward their base and saw a flock of white doves, each made completely out of mist. The flock flew over their heads and scouted the area ahead. Each of the doves was connected to Lamorak’s mind, so she could see from all of them at the same time, making her the perfect person to explore the Outlands with.

‘And I still don’t understand how she can do it.’

Knights could conjure elemental attacks that mimicked beasts when they used Aetherblade arts, but those weren’t actually alive. On the other hand, Lamorak’s mist creations were imbued with something she called “The Fire of Life” or whatever the hell that was—meaning they were kind of alive.

And that meant they could send her information.

Or they could blow up. Also, they could just attach themselves to someone and become superheated, essentially boiling the victim's flesh off. She used them against him when they sparred a long time ago.

“See anything?” Viktor asked after a respectable amount of time had passed. He put a hand on the girl’s shoulder to keep her from running off or doing anything stupid—like attacking them.

“Nothing yet…” Lamorak, her eyes closed, had already lit her pipe and taken a pull of skybliss despite his earlier rebuke.

Viktor nodded, leaving her to do her work. Also, he decided not to say anything about the blatant use of narcotics. He was starting to think she needed them to help with her technique’s side effects. If any existed, that is.

‘She could’ve told me if that was the case.’

If it was for work, he obviously would have allowed it. But he’d initially thought she was just getting high for leisure.

Suddenly, the girl tapped Viktor in the hand, and then patted her chest. “Kass-see-ah.”

After that, the winged alien pointed at Viktor.

“Cassia?” Viktor raised a brow but decided it was fine to play along.

The girl, Cassia, nodded with a smile. She then pointed at him and tilted her head.

Understanding what she wanted, he said his name slowly. “Viktor.”

“Veeek. Tooor?”

“Vik. Tor.”

“Viktur?”

Shrugging, Viktor sighed as he placed a hand on the girl’s head. “Eh. Close enough. I don’t really care, to be honest.”

‘It’s not my real name, anyway.’

Cassia seemed confused by the physical touch but not repulsed. Just perplexed at how to feel, perhaps. While he was at it, he procured a spare cloak he kept around just so he could copy it with his Soul Armament and gave it to her. Since, it was sized for him, it was absolutely huge on her. Luckily, it should also be enough to cover her and her wings.

As he was frowning over how to fasten it while not hurting her, his fellow knight spoke up.

“Ah, I think I found what this little birdie was trying to tell us about.” Lamorak opened her eyes and took another deliberately long pull from her pipe, stretching Viktor’s patience. “There’s a fight.”

“Mortals?”

“No, the mortals are cowering. Or dead. Mostly dead. Lots of dead. Three Ascendants are fighting off eight—no, it's seven Ascendant spawns now. They seem to be holding their ground quite well, all things considered. No wounds or anything.”

Viktor frowned, shaking Cassia’s head a little and causing her wings to burst out of her cloak in shock, as if the feathers were razor-sharp blades. “Do they look like this girl who just ruined a perfectly good cloak?”

“The mortals do. The Ascendants have four wings. Oh, and they’re properly clothed. Not like this little one, who makes beggars look well-dressed.”

‘That’s… close enough, I suppose. Are the wings some kind of bloodline ability and so the number depends on one’s realm? Eh, it doesn’t matter. Let the scholars research this.’

Viktor pushed Cassia toward Lamorak and pulled the Sword Banner out of the ground. “Get this kid back to base. We’re retreating after this. Get the others ready.”

“Eh? I wanna go see too. All my familiars got popped by the shockwaves from their fight so I can’t see now.”

“If it’s just seven, I can handle it on my own.” Viktor frowned. “Besides, on the off-chance I die, you take command.”

Lamorak grimaced as her shoulders slumped a little. “Please don’t die. I don’t like being in command.”

“As always, no promises… Is it just a straight shot in that direction?”

“That’s right,” she said. “If you almost fly into a mountain, you’re close.”

“Right.” Viktor rose from the ground as he winked at the winged girl. “See ya later, kid. I gotta teach you the king’s English so you can apologize for my ruined cloak.”

Leaving those words behind, Aizen’s Knight Commander carried the kingdom’s banner to battle on his own.

════════════════════════════════

Viktor flew into the site of a gruesome battlefield.

The cursed landscape was gouged out and the mountain Lamorak mentioned had been turned into a crater by the time he arrived. Spawns didn’t leave bodies behind so he couldn’t tell how many had died here, but one thing was sure: plenty of Cassia's people perished here today, their mangled bodies strewn across the scenery.

He could vaguely sense a few dozen mortals hiding somewhere underground, right above the battlefield where three four-winged people were fighting seven nightmares of varying shapes.

Just as he detected the ten combatants, they also detected him. All turned in his direction, some with feral malevolence while others with confusion.

‘I kind of wanted to take a look at how these winged people fight…’

That would have to come a bit later or not at all, however, because he’d already gotten himself revealed. Also, two of the nightmare spawns nearest to him charged forward with murder in their gazes.

Victor waited for them to get close enough before his eyes glowed golden. His muscles squirmed under the strain of barely-repressed power. With a yell, he rocketed forward while transforming into a massive white wolf. Surprised, the nearest spawn, an amalgamation of disgusting tentacles, was unprepared and was utterly ripped to shreds by his claws.

The other one followed soon after, having been too close to retreat and too weak to resist destruction.

Pleased by his kills, the urge to howl overcame him. Viktor let it run its course as he raised his head and announced his presence. It was just one of those things Warbeasts had to deal with.

Warbeasts.

To other races, they gave off the impression of mindless warmongers but this was wrong. War required both savagery and intelligence. A Warbeast possessed both, that is why they are called such.

Beastification, their innate ability, abandoned this intelligence in favor of greater savagery. And young Warbeasts always tried to resist it, afraid of losing their sanity.

But Viktor was a hundred and six years old now. He was old, though he didn’t want to admit it. And with age came wisdom and experience.

That is why he knew.

He knew that the madness was a part of him. And it shouldn’t be denied, but accepted. Nurtured, even.

Or in Vianna’s case, controlled.

‘Funny, how siblings have gone down two different extremes.’

Vianna controlled.

Viktor unleashed.

His howl gradually grew louder and louder as the surroundings were increasingly covered with a layer of frost. The other performers in this battle were not saved, their skin freezing over as well.

The whites of Viktor’s eyes were tainted by bloody roots from the exertion. Fang and claw were both laced with the chilling cold drawn from a bloodline most ancient even as his lupine body grew bulkier. His beautiful white fur glowed with the icy blue of his power and the red that used to be his blood.

His power climbed higher as his mind grew dim but all of it was simply to endure what he was about to do.

‘Flash Frost.’

The words spoken only in his mind jogged him out of his insanity, reminding his body of what it had to do.

In just a single instant, all of the power he’d built up was unleashed onto the concept of “the world”, freezing it in place.

Everything turned white as time stopped, and for that briefest of moments, the world gave him the special treatment only afforded to the pinnacle. And with that special treatment, only he was not frozen in place.

Wasting no time, he ran through the air, his legs launching off of frozen space. His body felt heavy, heavier than it had ever been. Almost as if the world was trying to pull him back to where he was supposed to be. It was like wading through a morass of snow and mud, every inch was fought for with grit and determination.

It was a slow crawl. Or that was how it felt for him, but barely even a second had passed. His body wanted to surrender, the agony warning him that his body was about to be torn apart. Yet he endured, because he knew his current form would handle it. He would not have wasted essence to use beastification if it wouldn’t.

Soon, after what seemed like an eternity, he made it to his first target. It was an ugly thing, this nightmare spawn. In the throes of madness, he couldn’t even come up with the words to describe it. All he knew was that he disliked it. No, he despised it.

Enough to crush it underfoot.

The frozen spawn shattered easily under the softest touch. A shame. And so he would move on to his next target in this frozen playground.

This one looked like a woman. A beautiful young woman at that, and with four wings whose colors he couldn’t tell because everything was white. He didn’t particularly feel anything about this one but he would destroy it too.

Because he could. Because nobody could stop him.

‘No.’

As he raised his claw, Viktor didn’t stop. He guided it toward another of the spawns. Then another. And another. Until all the spawns were gone.

And just in time too, because time broke out of the frost and motion returned to the world. Viktor’s body was pulled violently back to where he was before time was frozen, his body a mangled mess when it reached its destination.

The nightmare spawns he’d been fighting, however, did not return. A shower of shimmering sleet was the only proof that they were here at all.

‘Agh, fuck. That hits like a runaway rhino-kin.’

Viktor immediately undid his beastification. And as his body returned to its original form, so too did his madness recede, ready to be unleashed when called. His entire body was bleeding, crack-like veins under his armor leaking the essence that composed the body of all Ascendants.

As such, he retrieved a tiny pill from his spatial ring and popped it into his mouth. His injuries visibly healed and he felt rejuvenated. Even his mind seemed clearer.

‘Thank you, little nephew. I wouldn’t have been courageous enough to try such crazy things without these.’

With a smile, Viktor clenched his fists and felt the tingly sensation in his fingertips.

He had done it. Time was a concept that only Transcendents played with. Space too, supposedly, but there were ways around that, as shown by the handful of knights who could teleport.

‘I did it.’

The pinnacle was in sight.

Those seemingly insurmountable beings who stood atop the tallest mountains, who raised empires with their legends, who built the tallest towers that pierced the heavens...

These unreachable beings, were not, in fact, unreachable.

If one worked hard enough, it was possible to touch upon the feet of their brilliance. And today, Viktor proved to himself that he deserved a shot.

With this, he’d truly thrown his lot in the ring. A bid to the throne of the strongest. For he didn’t just want to be a colleague to that lonely old man atop the mountain. No, Viktor wanted to surpass him. And perhaps with that power, he could take revenge for his clan and protect his new home.

Gods be damned, it hurt though. Trial and error was a pain sometimes.

‘I supposed I’ll have Vianna to thank for this.’

They’d argued plenty of times about how to use their race’s innate ability. In this continent, where there were no other warbeasts but them, they had no teachers to guide them on this particular subject. And so, they both had to wade through the darkness and pioneer their own paths forward, with only each other to consult when they got stuck.

So while they’d disagreed, inevitably, they also learned something from the other’s path.

If Viktor hadn’t, he would have unnecessarily slain someone he didn’t have to.

‘This technique needs a lot more work.’

Viktor sighed, glad that he had something to practice on. The Sword Banner was there to help him if he was attacked while recovering too, so it was relatively safe.

‘Hm. This is why combat is necessary! Growth is fueled by strife!’

Sparring was nice and all but nothing beat life-and-death battles like this. It truly pushed someone through limits they didn’t even know they had. In the end, it was the right choice to hole himself up in the Outlands for months on end instead of meditating in some cave—though meditating did help him think more clearly, so he would still have to do it sometimes.

“Ah, right.” Viktor’s brows shot up as he turned to the three quad-winged personages he almost turned into shaved ice. “Hello there… Fuck. Language barrier… Right, almost forgot about that.”

If only there was some kind of way to instantly learn each other’s languages. That would be so helpful right now. More than time-stopping techniques, that is.

Looking at the winged people, Viktor noted that all of them were women too. Very beautiful women, at that. With sizable breasts that his little nephew would probably love. Viktor didn't particularly care about those lumps of fat, however, since he preferred ones with pretty ears and luscious fur.

‘Hm? Come to think of it…’

Scanning the surrounding carnage with his seventh sense, he realized that all the corpses were female. And the surviving mortal winged people were female too.

‘Why are they all women…? Did all the men get wiped out?’

Would that not mean that these people were done for as a people? If they couldn't reproduce, they'd eventually die out. Though he supposed they could avoid that if they luckily had the biological capabilities to have children with other races.

Warbeasts, as Vianna had proven with Reivan's birth, apparently had this capability.

Viktor was perplexed but he set it aside for now. Instead, he scratched his head over how to communicate with these winged aliens.

Then an idea struck him.

“Cassia.” Viktor pointed toward the campsite and then smiled. Though he didn’t know if the gesture would be interpreted positively, he also gave them a double thumbs-up. “Cassia. Cassia.”

Since that was literally the only word he knew they would understand, he kept on repeating it while gesturing for them to follow.

One of the Ascendant aliens flew forward and said something, but he may as well have talked to a rock. Maybe the rock would understand her more than Viktor could. It didn’t help that she was utterly expressionless and didn’t make an effort to use gestures.

‘May Sormon grant me patience… Actually, just send a diplomat over here. No need for patience.’

In the end, he decided to just slowly fly back to base and hope they followed. He took the Sword Banner that was still fluttering loftily in the wind while stabbed into a floating piece of ice. It was a good thing he didn't have to resort to unsealing it, given how long it took the Sword Star to refine each one.

The three Ascendant aliens were clearly surprised by his actions, one of them leaving to retrieve the others in their tribe while the other two trailed him from behind. It didn’t take long for an entire flock of winged aliens to shadow him. And as he expected, all of them were women.

‘Ah, I only wanted a representative to come… They brought the entire tribe instead.’

But he supposed that was the wise move given how dangerous it was to split up. They must have been extremely desperate if they were willing to follow some random man covered in armor. With wolf ears atop his head, at that. Much less one that could transform into a giant wolf that could freeze time.

Viktor, at least, wouldn’t trust someone who looked like him.

‘If these aliens follow us all the way to the other side, it’s gonna be a riot.’

With any hope, his nephew was back from his duties abroad. That would mean he could take a look at these aliens and see if they were dangerous.

Otherwise, he couldn’t let these winged ladies through the portal for national security reasons. It wouldn't feel pleasant to have them camp out here in this shitty place when paradise was just a few steps away.

════════════════════════════════

“Well, there he goes.” The one called Lamorak sighed as she watched the one called Viktor go. She then picked Cassia up and slung her over the shoulder, giving her butt a tap that made the little girl squeal a little. “Hehe. Let’s get you inside, little birdie.”

The knight called Lamorak then flew over to the vast fortress of mist and called out to the other knights nearby. “Look alive, ladies and gentlemen. I think we’re going home!”

The other knights chuckled like swine and cheered like monkeys, not even giving Cassia a second glance. Smiling like the fool that she was, the knight called Lamorak entered the misty cage of her own creation.

In the brief instance right after Lamorak’s entire body penetrated the mist before Cassia’s head could do so, the winged girl’s eyes flashed from bright red to a striking cyan color that seemed to reflect the bleakness of the Outlands.

'Finally. Just a little more and I'll be free from this accursed place.'

But first, this puppet that has fulfilled its purpose would have to be disposed of without arousing suspicion.

Arc#4 Chapter 73: The End of an Era

Reivan took his time flying down the mountain, sitting pretty on Zouros' large back.

There was plenty to admire. The sea of green blanketing the mountain, the bustling cityscape around it, and the familiar temperate winds blowing against his face.

It was the Aizen he'd come to know and love.

It was his home.

'I'm finally back! Let's go!'

In hindsight, he hadn't been away for too long. He'd been tucked away in his mind for much longer in comparison. But it sure as hell felt long. And he really appreciated being back in an environment he'd gotten so familiar with—an environment that he considered his home with all his heart.

"Aren't you glad we're back, Zee?" Reivan gave his favorite serpent a strong pat, receiving a lukewarm response in return. "Huh, I suppose you have been sleeping most of the time."

All things considered, expecting the archon fragment to grow attached to this place might have been asking too much. Still, it was a little disheartening to know that his ever-present companion didn’t care for the kingdom as much as he did. In Reivan’s mind, it was as much Zee’s home as it was his own.

'Eh, you'll come around eventually. We'll be staying here for a really long time, after all. And by that, I mean forever.'

Even when he took the scenic route to fully appreciate the feeling of returning, the trip didn’t take long. The mountain wasn't far from the palace, after all.

As his boot met the familiar sapphire blue carpet that filled the palace halls, he realized that even the palace interior had a scent that he’d never noticed, but was always there. Truly, being away made him appreciate even these little aspects.

What ruined the scenery was how Zouros spat Mira out in front of him before slithering back into his soul to continue its nap.

Naturally, the young woman was still unconscious—which wasn’t done to be unkind to her, but rather, to spare her from whatever cosmic horror she’d see while inside a mini world-devouring serpent’s mouth. Surely, she wouldn’t blame him for whatever she missed.

Reivan knelt beside her and looked her over to ensure she wasn’t injured or afflicted with some malady from her second stay in Zouros' stomach. Her breathing seemed fine and her body had no problems besides her slightly disheveled clothing.

‘Should I wake her up now, or…’

A quick scan of his surroundings revealed there was nobody nearby. He’d just chosen a random window to enter through after all—because doors were overrated—so it made sense.

Even if most of Aizen’s Ascendant knights were surrounding the republic, ready to hunt down all of its silver cloaks, the palace itself would not be left utterly undefended. As such, someone must have sensed him already.

“Attend me,” Reivan spoke to nobody in particular, hoping someone was listening because he’d look very stupid otherwise.

Thankfully, someone appeared right next to him as if it was a matter of course. Actually, rather than appear, wind seeped through the gaps of a door and reformed into a woman.

A familiar woman.

“Oh!” Reivan’s brows shot up as he stood up. “It's my favorite sister-in-law. You’re alive!”

“I'm your only sister-in-law. And don’t just kill me off, little brother.” Stella chuckled, stepping forward to embrace him tightly. “You smell a little.”

“I’m glad to see you too. Oh, and you look a lot better than the last time I saw you.”

She let him go and grinned. “I’ve become an Ascendant!”

“Congratulations. I meant that more in the sense that you’ve stopped looking like the living dead, however.”

“I’m pretty young for it too, you know? I’m only in my twenties!” she blatantly lied while ignoring his retort.

Reivan let it pass without comment, however. She was already thirty when they last met, so she was, quite obviously, not in her twenties. As far as he knew, ages didn't go backward. Still, Ascending at thirty was an impressive feat considering she purposely stopped herself to pop out a few kids first.

If she had wanted to, she really could have Ascended in her twenties.

“Anyway, the kids missed you,” Stella shared as she patted him over to see how much he’d grown—which wasn’t by a lot, considering they hadn’t been apart that long. “Little Lisa especially. And Anna too.”

“With any hope, we’ll get to play more often.” Reivan smiled, thinking back to the newest additions to his ever-expanding family.

Lisanna, Annayula, and the newly born Alvenos. He hadn’t seen the third and only boy out of the three, but that hardly mattered. It wasn’t hard to imagine himself getting attached to the child. Surprisingly, he liked children as long as they were related to him.

“In any case…” Stella’s eyes fell on the unconscious woman at Reivan’s feet. “You brought home a woman again. I hope this isn't a trend you aim to spread.”

“Please don’t make it sound like I bring a woman home every time I go out.”

She snickered. “I’ve been told about her. Mira Sere... Uh, Sere-something, right? She’s got one of those spirit beasts, except hers is more important.”

“Serandina,” Reivan corrected. “Her name's Mira Serandina. And yes. It can Ascend just by killing other spirits with the same ability.”

“The world is really full of nonsensically unfair things… Ordinary folk have to work hard and they just get to rise after killing a few bozos.” Stella muttered, completely disregarding the fact that she herself was a manifestation of unfairness.

After all, she possessed the talent, work ethic, and resources to become an Ascendant at an age that normal knights were just starting to unlock their qi—and this was on top of having the face of a goddess, a bombshell of a body, and the status to marry the king of Sentorale’s most ancient nation.

“Well, you’re my sister’s problem now.” The current queen shrugged, crossing her arms and raising a brow at him. “Who are you going to see first? Roland or your fiancee, who has been pining for you in the months you’ve been apart and who suddenly has a new love rival?”

That, to Reivan, was the question of the century. In the end, however, he just left it up to fate.

“Who’s closer?” he asked.

Stella grinned, amused. “Your brother.”

“Then it only makes sense to see him first.” Reivan nodded. “Could I bother you to have someone take Mira to a room?”

“That won’t be a problem. Can I be rough?”

“Thank you. And please be gentle. I’ll see you later.”

“Now, now. Hold on.” She stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Hold tight.”

Immediately realizing what she was about to do, Reivan’s muscles tensed just in time for him to feel an almighty jolt as his vision blurred for a second. A moment later, he was unsteadily standing by an entirely different window in an entirely different room.

"Ugh..." Reivan grimaced as he held his temple. "Why am I dizzy when this isn't my first time?"

“Sorry. Not used to it yet,” Stella admitted. “I need guinea pigs before I try doing that to my kids.”

He groaned but appreciated the fact that she hadn’t tried it on her children yet. Perhaps he could accept the inconvenience in the name of protecting the little ones.

“Brother.” someone called out in a familiar voice. “I didn’t think you’d come to see me before Helen. That's not good. You'll lose points with your wife, you know?”

Holding his head in his hand as the dizziness expired, Reivan saw his brother waving at him while squatting on the floor. Two adorable little girls were running circles around him while he held a small bundle of cloth in his arms.

“Gimme.” Stella zipped forward and took the bundle from his arms, as one of the little girls ran up to Reivan.

“Bubby!” Lisa crashed into Reivan’s leg, latching on like a tiny koala. “Bubby, you’re back!”

“Yup, yup. Bubby’s back.” Reivan picked her up and rubbed his face on her cheek. “Missed me?”

“Mhm!”

“Even when I don’t have any presents?”

“That’s okay!” Lisa exclaimed, though she couldn’t hide the slight dejection on her face. “Lisa doesn’t need presents…”

“I lied though~! Of course, Bubby has presents“ Reivan pulled out a wooden toy called a kendama. He’d bought it from some stall at some point but forgot about it until now. She didn't need to know that, however. “Here you go.”

“Wow!” She snatched it from his hands and just looked at it with a beaming smile. “Thanks, Bubby! What is it?”

“Give it here for a sec…”

It had been a while since he’d played it, but he was at the peak of the mortal realm at the moment so sure he would be able to do it. And after a couple of tries, he did, in fact, manage, eliciting cries of amazement from his niece.

Even his other niece was watching from afar with great interest, though still too wary of Reivan given how little time they’ve spent with each other. Clearly, she knew they were related but didn't feel that way yet. With any hope, she'd come around eventually.

“Lemme try!” Lisa asked and so she received. Her face immediately screwed up in focus after a while, but she didn’t seem keen on giving up any time soon.

‘That’ll occupy her for a while.’

Reivan set her down and the little girl quietly sank into herself, trying to get the kendama’s bright red ball to go where it should. The moment he left her, Anna came over to get a closer look at the toy.

“Brother. Come, sit.” Roland pointed at the table nearby as Stella played with the kids. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to be back,” Reivan said as they both sat down. “I expected you to be in your office. Specifically, under a mountainous pile of paperwork that has very high regenerative powers."

The king chuckled. “Given how Aizen could lose its sovereignty on the off-chance that the Sword Star dies, I thought I’d spend the last few moments of my life with my children.”

Reivan groaned. He also believed in the old man’s capabilities, but the risk was there. And though the kingdom had millennia's worth of preparation against hostile forces, those were meant to delay when faced against powerful entities such as Transcendents—To buy time until the Sword Star could ultimately remove said powerful hostile entity.

If the Sword Star died, then it wouldn’t matter if the enemy was delayed by a couple of hours or even days. The kingdom's defeat would be an inevitability.

Reivan watched his brother’s fingers drum on the table and asked. “Any news by now? I also left Valter behind so I’m worried about that…”

“Oh, don’t worry about Sir Valter and the others. Dame Mordred was there so everybody in the embassy managed to escape while surrounded by silver cloaks.”

“I see…” Reivan hummed to himself as he realized how dry his throat was. With a snap of his fingers, he used his special ability to prepare tea. Cups, pots, and leaves floated between them as he crossed his arms. “What about the fight?”

Roland cleared his throat. “Apparently, that was the trigger. Jerme the Gladiator King, who just happened to be relatively close by, sensed the Sage King and made the decision to engage. Everyone in the embassy would have been taken out if it weren't for him, so I plan to add a little extra to his fee as thanks. The War God arrived shortly after. Seems Argonia also have ways to communicate over long distances immediately, given how quickly he showed up.”

“Hm… It’s probably used for emergencies only. Am I wrong?” Reivan willed one of the teapots into his hand and activated the enchantment. In a minute or two, the contents would turn into tea, so he set the table with cups.

“No, you got it right. Presumably, that is. Otherwise, they wouldn’t ever relay information through their old ways ever again. We also wouldn't have been able to manipulate their information if that were the case."

“Right… So? The fight?”

Roland smiled. “We won. The Sage King's dead.”

Reivan’s body relaxed at that. He didn’t even notice that he’d stiffened up, so he indulged himself by reclining further into his seat. “That’s amazing news. Fast too. It’s barely been thirty minutes.”

It both amazed and frustrated him that the literal fate of his home and everyone in it had been decided in such a short span of time. He had flown down from the top of the Sword Sanctum and by the time he stepped foot in the palace, everything was all over. Hell, news of it had already returned to Aizen, so the actual fight took much less time.

And in that time, he’d literally had no way to influence the outcome. A game was being played and he wasn’t a player. He wasn’t even a spectator.

Truly, being weak in a world where power was everything scared him to his core. Was praying all he could do? He didn’t blame himself for that weakness, since he was already doing quite well relative to his age. But it made his blood run cold when he thought of outcomes where things didn’t work out as well as they did.

“Casualties…?” Reivan asked, tamping down his darker thoughts.

“Only enemy Transcendents died.” Roland sighed. “There was apparently an unexpected variable. An elf with a spirit beast intervened for the Sage King. That said, the Sage King is apparently just a single Transcendent, not a Transcendent sorcerer and his Transcendent spirit beast. So Sir Rolf and the others had to face a total of three enemies.”

“Oh… Well, it’s great that everything worked out despite that. You expected the War God to betray us, so this was a better outcome.”

“True enough. The worst cases were avoided, at least.”

Reivan nodded, thinking back to one of the many sayings passed down in the royal family, creating generations of pessimistic bastards—who were all very good at their jobs because of their ridiculous caution.

“Plan for the worst outcome to obtain the best one”

Because of that, everything worked out well in the end.

Sir Rolf was alive. The Sage King was dead. And the kingdom was safe for now, as long as he ignored the Outland portal or the volatile eastern continent.

It would have been better if the War God also died in the battle, but one couldn’t be too greedy.

“Hm? If this information has reached us already, then shouldn’t Sir Rolf be here by now?” Reivan poured his brother a cup of tea before treating himself to one as well. “Or did the War God do something?”

“Well, he apparently tried to hit Sir Rolf in the back of the head when everything was settled.”

For a few heartbeats, Reivan didn’t know how to react to that. Was it really so shocking considering what the War God did during the negotiation event in Fort Alexander? He had to hand it to the guy, he was really committing to the bit of being a treacherous snake.

“It didn’t work, of course.” Roland continued, sighing. “At the moment, Sir Rolf is rounding up all the silver cloaks he can find. Apparently, the War God doesn’t intend to recruit any of the battlemages, so he’s just going to kill every single one he can find… except for the mortal ones.”

“Crazy bastard… What about the treaty?”

“That is already in place. So we can’t use Ascendants and above when in conflict with signatory organizations. Which now include us, the Argonia Empire, the Star of Fortune, the Orthodox Sormon Church, and the Saintess Sect.  Furthermore, we have a private agreement with Argonia regarding how Arkhan will be handled. If the republic can muster up a functional government after their political capital was erased from the map, then we’ll approach them as well—though I highly doubt it. No politician is going to volunteer themselves in these troubled times.”

Reivan momentarily thought back to the Arkhanian president, who was also Inaria’s father. But he forced his thoughts back on the topic quickly. “Has the actual Spirit Tower been destroyed?”

“Yes. Sir Rolf managed to set the…uh… Upper Cities, they were called? Those floating islands. Anyway, he managed to set those down before the War God cracked open the tower. Most of the silver cloaks were absent, however.”

“Hm? Then they must have been spread out to take out Aizen’s bases or something along those lines. Or sent out by the Sage King in case he was defeated…? In any case, it means most of the silver cloaks are still out there.”

“Right? With that in mind, I’ll be counting on you. Recruiting the battlemages, I mean.”

Reivan nodded, licking his lips in thought. “Looks like my beloved nation needs me to bleed for it once again… literally.”

Blood was the body fluid he could most efficiently turn into medicine with [Drug Memorization] after all. The plan was to produce an obscene amount of the special spirit dew medicine to entice battlemages to join Aizen.

The kingdom didn’t really covet sorcery all that much, but if it could obtain hundreds of Ascendants without any prior investments? Obviously, they would take it.

‘Well, it’s no big deal.’

Reivan had grown used to such meager pain. So much so that just a bit of major bleeding wasn’t such a big deal. He could do it while reading a book or something so he wouldn't get bored. That said, he probably shouldn’t do it in front of the kids. Actually, he had taken the initiative to get started on it weeks ago while he was uselessly fucking around in the now-destroyed embassy, waiting for things to happen.

So he had a massive supply to surrender right this instant.

The lull in their conversation was interrupted when Lisa ran over to show him how good she’d gotten at using the kendama. Reivan then proceeded to misdirect her attention by telling her to teach her little sister how to do it since Anna looked really interested.

Left alone again, Roland smiled as he said. “You’re good at that. Dealing with children, I mean.”

“Ah, well.” Reivan shrugged. “What can I say? My face is so great that even children love me.”

“Even if you’re my brother, shouldn’t you tone your arrogance down a little? Especially since my face is better.”

“That’s what you think.”

Roland chuckled. “Fine. Why don’t we ask around and tally the results?”

Reivan grimaced. “How many people do you think are brave enough to vote against the literal king…?”

Both of them seriously talked about the possibility of actually holding some kind of vote. It was a silly thing, but they had just been informed that their nation was out of danger now. So in mutual relief, perhaps they were just looking for topics to take the edge off.

Happy topics. Foolish, inconsequential topics with nothing at stake.

“Marriage.” Roland tapped the table. “Everyone’s getting impatient.”

“Impatient…?” Reivan grimaced. “I’m eighteen. It’s not like I’ve been a bachelor for decades like Uncle Viktor. Why's nobody asking that guy to get married, hm?”

“Still. You should hold it soon. Your fiancee has been diligently working hard at her bridal training. Don’t you feel bad for making her wait for so long? So? Want me to set the date?”

“Everyone’s just ganging up on me… It’s as if I’ve left her hanging for a century, the way you’re castigating me.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

Reivan groaned, toying with his cup. “...Well, it’s not like I don’t want to get married?”

“So you want to?”

“...Well, yes.”

Roland clapped his hands together. “Perfect. Then let’s set the date to one month from now.”

Reivan almost jumped out of his seat. “A month…!? Isn’t that way too rushed!?”

“Not at all. I, Father, Mother, and Helen have been laying out the groundwork and organizing what needs to be organized for months.”

“I’ve heard nothing of this…”

Roland shrugged with a chuckle. “Well, you were on a top-secret mission where communication was cut off.”

“I’ve been back in correspondence since a month ago.”

“Perhaps it slipped our minds to inform you?”

“You guys are full of it, you know that?”

“Lese Majeste. Watch your neck, little brother.” Roland wagged a finger at him jokingly. “Anyway. We could hold the wedding tomorrow if we so wished. But we’ll wait for a month in consideration of everyone attending.”

“This is madness…”

“Besides, don’t you want to marry Miss Elsamina as well? It’s unwise and it’s bad luck to get married in quick succession like that, so the sooner you marry Helen, the sooner you can hold a wedding for Miss Elsamina as well.”

Reivan groaned. This was why he didn’t want to argue with people smarter than him. Wasn’t that just asking to lose? His brother made perfect sense and even Reivan agreed.

“It’s decided then.” Roland grinned, openly amused at him. “We can talk about the troubles of married life soon.”

“Sister Stellaaaaaaaaa,” Reivan immediately called out to his sister-in-law. “My brother here says he has troubles with your marriage.”

“You little—!” Roland glared at him before hastily standing up and walking over to his wife. “Honey, I was just kidding around to tease him.”

“I know, I know…” Stella giggled, hugging Alvenos to her chest. “Go away, you’ll wake Alvie up.”

The great king of Aizen returned to his seat, looking none too pleased with his younger brother’s antics. “There will be retribution.”

Reivan sneered. “King of Aizen and father of three. Yet so petty. Just let it go.”

“Bah. To the gallows with you.”

Just as Reivan was about to retort, something burst through the door and headed straight for him like an arrow. He instinctively bolted out of his seat with a raised fist, ready to swat whatever it was aside while summoning a dagger in his other hand—but then he realized who it was and stopped.

As such, Helen appeared right in front of him and jumped into his embrace.

“You scared the crap out of me…” Reivan dispelled his dagger and returned the hug with triple the tightness, knowing that the seemingly short girl in his arm could take it. “As you can see, I’m back.”

“Mhm.” Helen nodded, her face still digging into his chest. “You almost hit me though.”

“I-I stopped at the last moment…”

“You’ve grown dull.”

“Cut me some slack, I’ve been living as a battlemage for months.”

Helen looked up, looking just as pretty as the day they parted. “We’re sparring later. I'll get you sharp again.”

Reivan laughed sheepishly. “Eh… Not that I'm complaining, but is that all we're doing...?”

“No.”

And that was enough. That one word meant Reivan’s hips would be undergoing rather intense stress tests later. A very pleasant development indeed.

They were pulled apart after Lisa innocently asked what they were doing, her bright blue eyes shining with childish curiosity. Reivan then noticed what his fiancee was wearing. “You’re wearing a dress…”

Helen nodded. “Is it strange?”

“I’m not used to it, but it’s not bad. Not bad at all…” Reivan eyed her down, admiring the contrast of her pearly white skin with the dark green dress.

“I see.” She muttered as she shamelessly forced him to sit down before sitting on his lap. “I need more feedback.”

“Hah…?”

“Tell me what you like.”

Reivan scratched his head. “If you ask that out of the blue, I’m not gonna know what to throw back, you know?”

‘That’s a lie. Actually, I like her usual tight pants more than this because it lets me admire her legs and her butt! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being a degenerate!’

Naturally, he wouldn’t just blurt that out. Especially when he considered the present company. But maybe when they were alone… Well, she was asking for it, so was he actually being a degenerate for telling it like it was?

No. No, he was not.

‘That’s right. I’m perfectly ordinary for admiring my soon-to-be wife! That’s my duty as a soon-to-be husband, no? Yup, I’m innocent.’

Helen seemed like she would pester him about his preferences more, but Lisa and Anna came up and whisked her off to play with the kendama—which Helen would likely master on her first try. She seemed quite close to her nieces and allowed them to lead her away with a small smile.

It seemed there wouldn't be trouble when they had their own kids.

Reivan watched them go, an overwhelming force tugging on the corners of his lips. To think that a year or two from now, he would look upon a similar view—just that the children would be his.

‘I’ve come a long way.’

From a bedridden young man on his deathbed, he was now someone a month away from marriage. Would his past self believe it if he told him that such happiness awaited as long as he endured the pain?

“Kids are great, aren’t they~?” Roland commented from across the table, his gaze also on the peaceful scene before them. “You’ll have your own soon. Lots, going by how many concubines you’re slated to have.”

“Ugh, right…” Reivan had almost forgotten about that. As the last mortal of his bloodline, the duty of restoring it lay on his shoulders. “Well, as long as I get to just stay at home for a while. I didn’t realize how homesick I was until I got back here.”

He was going to rampage around his favorite eateries when the opportunity presented itself. Arkhanian cuisine wasn't all that bad when he got a little used to it, but nothing beat the taste of home. Naturally, Helen would come along, since his favorite spots were her favorite spots too. Ah, he could let Mira tag along too if she wanted. And it was about time for him to finally tell Elsamina about his true identity.

The surprise on her face would be priceless. He just wished she wouldn’t break things off with him over it.

His spine chilled at the thought. Well, she already knew that the face he was showing her wasn’t his real face, so she was already primed for it. But still. Women were unpredictable. What argument would he have to offer if she simply didn't like his real face or something?

“I’m tired of thinking…” Reivan complained as he laid his face on the table, enjoying the coldness against his cheeks. “I just wanna laze around back here until my wedding…”

“Well…” Roland hummed. “You certainly deserve it, considering your contributions. Again, thank you, Rein.”

Waving his hand dismissively, Reivan replied. “No thanks necessary. We’re a team, after all. Gotta keep this nation afloat together.”

“A team, huh… That's a nice way to view it.”

“Yep~ a team. Team Aizen… Or Team Aizenwald…? Agh, naming stuff's a pain…”

Silence reigned between them. And for a while, only the laughter of children filled the room.

It was Roland who broke the lull by clearing his throat. “My dearest brother.”

Reivan turned his face toward his sibling, his cheeks still pressed on the table. His intuition was blaring alarm bells in his head. “I don’t like your term of address… You’re gonna ask me to do something really annoying, aren't you?”

“Haha… Hypothetically speaking, if I was, would you be mad?”

‘Fucking knew it…’

Roland awkwardly scratched his cheek, and it was made clear to Reivan that his brother was feeling quite guilty over it.

Straightening up in his chair, Reivan reclined while crossing his legs. “I’m assuming this requires someone from the royal family to do it.”

Roland nodded.

“Am I the best sibling for the job? There’s Mimi and Jiji too, after all. They’re technically adopted, sure, but we’ve already made it clear that it doesn't matter to us.”

“You are, undoubtedly, the best sibling for the job.”

"I see..." Reivan swept back his hair and sighed. “Then it’s decided. There's nothing I can do but do it.”

Roland’s brows shot up. “Just like that? You haven’t even heard what duty I’m going to assign.”

“If I’m really the best for the job anyway, then I’m going to want to do it in place of my siblings anyway.” Reivan rested his elbow on the table and rolled his wrist.

“Are you sure? It’s going to take you away from the palace for a long time though.”

“Wait, seriously? That’s so annoying…”

“Right?”

Reivan shrugged. “I’m guessing it involves Arkhan?”

Roland’s eyes widened for a moment before he grinned in realization. “Who was it? Or did you think of it on your own?”

“It was Valter,” he confessed. “He shared a bunch of predictions for how to deal with broken Arkhan after the Sage King’s fall. Jiji mentioned some things over dinner too, back when she was still at the embassy.”

“Is that so… It would have been great if you realized on your own.”

“Please lower your expectations. I'm only good at lying and fighting.”

Both of them chuckled before Reivan clapped his hands together. “Well, there you have it. Just leave it to me.”

“Thanks a lot. Really.”

“We’re brothers.” Reivan smirked. “We’re supposed to help each other. Perhaps we were born of different mothers but our heart yearns for the same thing. Or something like that.”

Roland returned an almost childish smile, something that had stopped appearing at some point in their lives. “My brother’s so damned cool. Y’know, I can kind of understand why you have so much trouble with women. Maybe if I was a woman, I would have fallen too?“

Reivan’s face twisted into a disgusted grimace, and a moment later, Roland’s face did too.

“My dear elder brother, let’s forget about that part of our conversation.”

“Agreed.”

“I was just complimented but why don’t I feel happy at all? Aren’t you ashamed? Why do you have to make me feel this way?”

“We both agreed to forget about it, so shut up.”

“Papa! Bubby! Look!” Lisa called out from the other end of the room, pointing at Helen, who was adeptly playing with three kendama at a time—one of them held in her mouth.

‘Eh? That’s amazing… Can I do that too?’

“Well, you should catch up with Helen,” King Roland said as he stood up and walked over to his wife and kids. “Go. We’ll continue our talk from before on another day. In the first place... I might think of a better plan if you're lucky. It's possible that you won’t have to get shipped off to Arkhan again.”

Reivan nodded, following after him as he rubbed his lips. As he did, his thoughts momentarily zipped back to the Sage King, who he'd never even met.

A very old Transcendent died today. And with him died an era of balance between the three nations of the Sentorale Continent as well as heralded the beginning of the next one.

What had the Sage King been like, he wondered?

The ancient figure must have had his own goals and dreams. If so, were those aspirations harmful or were they beneficial to the world? Were they born of selfishness or benevolence? Was violence truly the correct answer? Did the Sage King truly have to die? Could they have reached an understanding if the parties involved got together to talk?

"Bubby? Let's play!"

As his niece once again tried to smash herself against his leg, Reivan decided to do away with questions of good and evil. Of right and wrong. Of possibilities that didn't come to be.

Who was he to decide which was which anyway? Who was he to decide if this outcome was better or worse?

He was just a tiny little speck of dust in this particular universe. And to him, justice was whatever ensured a hundred percent chance for his family to smile the same way his niece was doing right now.

Even if the price was the suffering of others.

════════════════════════════════

[Author's Note]

That about wraps it up for Arc#4...!

The Arc's epilogue will come out next, then I'll start on the fifth arc, where Reivan has a ridiculous amount of agency to move around and do stuff.

And kids too! He'll have kids. I'll also detonate some of the stuff that has been foreshadowed previously.

Please look forward to it!

Oh, and as usual, thank you for the continued support. I'm lacking in many things, yet I'm still receiving so much. I wish I could pour even more time into refining my craft, just so I can live up to your expectations!

Anyway, this has been Lire. See you in the next chapter~!

Arc#4 Interlude: Heroism

Antonnel held his wings aloft as he tore through the skies, calmly creating distance from the other three Transcendents as he pondered his next move.

There was only one reason why so many Transcendents were after him—they knew how close he was to achieving a higher realm. Though he did not know how the other two nations found out about his intentions, at this point, it hardly mattered.

They were here. And they were out for his blood.

An unexpected boon that had come of it was the discovery of yet another seed. Being a Spirit Emperor, Antonnel could roughly tell where all Spirit King seeds within a tremendously large radius around him were if he focused. That was how he knew that another one had appeared from out of nowhere, and it was conveniently close to Mira Serandina, who was also a spirit king seed.

Unfortunately, the new seed belonged to one of Aizen's princes. And just as Antonnel expected, the boy had protective measures that could let him evade a Transcendent like Antonnel.

Disappointing. Truly, it was incredibly disappointing. But not altogether unexpected. The kingdom wouldn't be as old as it was if it was ruled by careless fools, so of course, royalty had their own protective measures.

It was not such a bad thing. The contractor being a prince meant that Aizen would protect him, and so, Antonnel could just pick the boy up at some point in the future. They would make a mistake, as all humans do. And Antonnel would be there to capitalize on it. As for Mira, it seemed the little wench somehow managed to gain the prince's favor. Which meant she would also be safe for now. Antonnel's plans were still feasible.

In fact, it was convenient that the prince, Mira, and the Spirit King girl that Aizen snatched away were all in roughly one place. There was some kind of Saintess in Aizen, but it wouldn't matter either.

Today, Antonnel merely made a casual grab for the boy thinking he had nothing to lose and everything to gain. At the very least, he could take Mira Serandina back while simultaneously searching for the Spirit King that the incompetent battlemages allowed to escape. While he was at it, Antonnel would wage war on the kingdom, enlisting the Ascendants of the Tower. From their movements so far, it was just a matter of time before the kingdom made their move. Antonnel saw no need to give them the initiative.

All Antonnel had to do was lure out the Sword Star and take him out together with his allies.

'The plan has failed.'

Unexpectedly, the Argonia Empire was in the know and was aiming for Antonnel's life as well, likely informed by Aizen after they found out themselves. It was an even greater surprise since that bastard Leonel was not known for subtlety. The fact that neither Antonnel nor the entirety of the Tower couldn't even notice the empire's intentions proved how serious Leonel was this time.

Even the Gladiator King was enlisted.

Antonnel didn't mean to go against the Sword Star alone, which was why he made a preemptive deal with an elf that happened to be nearby. But the hapless fool had gotten himself killed as soon as Rolf appeared. And now he was left facing more opponents than he'd ever anticipated, each powerful in their own right.

'Useless. I should have asked Wysteria to send more people.'

He had known that the only advantage the elves had was their numbers. There were twice as many elven Transcendents compared to humans. Maybe even thrice. To top it off, they could even revive upon death by sacrificing their birth tree. They were relatively unified too, since there was no point for elves to fight when the Wysteria continent could house them all without concern.

But all that came at the cost of lacking might. Sure, they were old and had plenty of time to perfect their martial pursuits. But none of that could truly go up against true experience.

'Rolf...'

No conflicts between their nations had ever escalated enough for Transcendents to get involved, so Antonnel had never seen the Sword Star before. But one time, he had sensed a powerful presence fly in from the east before leaving shortly after perceiving Antonnel. It had annoyed him, being seen without having the chance to perceive the other side, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Now that Antonnel finally got to look, he wished he hadn’t.

There was a reason Rolf was agreed to be the strongest in Sentorale, and it wasn’t entirely because he was the oldest of the currently known six. Truly, Antonnel had underestimated how powerful a human could become on their own.

‘To think he can just… separate fused spirits.’

That made no sense whatsoever. Yet, it had undeniably happened. Right in front of his eyes, too. The Sword Star had probably done the same thing to that useless elf who got himself killed.

‘But still…’

Antonnel, in his true form as a giant owl, eyed his three adversaries.

Whatever the Sword Star did, it did not come cheaply. Or maybe it did, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he was exhausted after defeating that imbecilic elf. No matter how useless the elf was, Transcendents could not be slain so easily—because reality itself tried to maintain them. Perhaps the elf had some use after all.

And so, that meant that Antonnel primarily had the War God and the Gladiator King to contend with. The Sword Star would likely step back and try to replenish what little power he could—a problem for after the other two were dealt with.

Naturally, if Antonnel tried fusion again, he would be stopped.

Very violently, at that. His comrades had almost been killed by the Sword Star earlier when the fusion was canceled. Though they wouldn’t have died, the four spirit beasts that had been with him since the golden era of his life, when his old friend was still alive and every day was a good day to be alive, would have had to recuperate for a long time before being summoned again.

Judging by the Sword Star’s watchful gaze, the ridiculously absurd human intended to finish the job if Antonnel was ever foolish enough to try again.

‘Annoying.’

One of his core abilities was neutralized and he was now supposed to fight two Transcendents? With the strongest one—albeit weakened—waiting nearby?

Antonnel threw caution to the wind and fled toward his domain. Only a fool would stand and fight at this point. All paths to survival would be cut off if he stayed and fought. The only chance he had was the boons provided within the vicinity of the Spirit Tower.

The ravenous winds produced by his flight did no favors for the people below, of course. But when weighed against his life, it was of little consequence. If he was defeated here, he would be dead for good despite being a spirit beast.

Part of the reason why he could stay anchored to this world despite the lack of a contractor was because he’d severed all connection to the spirit world, using a unique method to banish himself. Which also meant that he couldn’t go there to recover after death.

As such, death for him was permanent.

Even worse, his four comrades would die with him, since they had also severed their connection to the spirit world when they anchored themselves to his soul.

‘I cannot die yet.’

The dream. His dream. A dream that Antonnel and his comrades wanted to manifest into reality.

He could not die before seeing it.

“Oh no, you don’t!”

At the War God’s booming yell, a tyrannical pressure bore down on Antonnel. He didn’t need to look up to know what was dropping down from the sky because he’d fought Leonel plenty of times before.

Seeing as he was up against so many foes, he wanted to refrain from extravagant use of elementalism but he had little choice now. Momentarily transforming into a bolt of lightning, Antonnel swerved out of the way as a gigantic hand of rotting flesh passed by where he used to be. A passing glance confirmed that it was the undead titan Leonel always liked to use against him. Antonnel’s current form was already large, but the giant could fit him within its hand without trouble.

‘I have seen it many times, but it still doesn’t make sense.’

The giant had Transcendence, or at the very least, the world regarded it as a Transcendent. But upon shedding one’s mortality, one didn’t leave behind a body after death. Not for very long, that is.

So how in the world did a Transcendent member of the Gigantes turn into an undead?

It made no sense. Antonnel would even go as far as saying that it broke the rules that governed reality itself. After all, only mortals were made of flesh and blood. Ascendants were made of energy. And Transcendents like them were a will—an ideal.

Of course, Antonnel had tried to study the bastard’s otherworldly powers in the Tower but failed to comprehend how it was done. At most, he managed to produce very weak undead that could fight other mortals—but that was all. Even with all the time he’d poured into the research, Antonnel couldn’t figure out how to make Ascendent-level undead, much less a Transcendent one like this. It could only use brute force but that in itself was dangerous already.

What’s worse was that Leonel had more than one.

The sudden attack forced him to slow down, so Antonnel was unable to evade the pursuit of two diminutive humanoids. They would catch up to him in a moment.

One was an undead elf holding what appeared to be a sharpened wooden sword crafted from the branch of an elder tree and the other was a dwarg—a race of demi-humans most commonly seen in the northern continent that was only half as tall as ordinary men but probably twice as wide.

More importantly, the dwarg held a hammer too big for its relatively small size. A hammer that had menacing blue runes that constantly shifted to form new runes all over it and electricity pulsing around it. Antonnel had been hit by that before and didn’t care to repeat the experience. Though the giant was intimidating and the elf was lethally fast, the most dangerous of Leonel's dolls was undoubtedly the dwarg.

‘This damned xenophobic cretin…’

Antonnel abandoned his large form and took out the body he prepared. His soul temporarily inhabited the body and his power filled it instead, making it essentially Transcendent. With this, he’d be a smaller target, if not slower due to lowered physical capabilities.

‘Where’s the other one…?’

Leonel, that bastard, had four Transcendent zombie puppets. A gigantes from the northern continent, an elf wanderer from Wysteria, a dwarg, and…

Just as he had that thought, Antonnel’s ears were suddenly assaulted by a mind-numbingly shrill voice that made even him wince in pain despite having expected it. When he followed the voice to its source, Antonnel saw the rotting corpse of a woman with a snake’s tail for a lower half next to the smirking Leonel.

“Today’s the day we settle old grudges, you overgrown bird!” Leonel cackled, his hands spread wide. “You’ve been an eyesore for far too long. By the end of today, I’ll have you stuffed and put on display as a trophy proving my greatness!”

Antonnel blew out his ears with a mere thought to mitigate the snake woman’s shrieks. His hearing gone, the snake-woman could not do anything to him short of charging forward. Luckily, he could still feel the vibrations on his skin, but that was preferable to earlier.

‘Annoying…!’

He usually thought it was a waste to expend extra effort in controlling his human vessel’s expression—which was a good thing because he wouldn’t have wanted to give the so-called God of War the satisfaction of seeing his frustration—but this time, he couldn't help it. It almost came naturally to him.

Forced into battle, Antonnel created a blast of magic power in his location, propelling him away as a sharp wooden blade cut through the space he previously occupied. The short-statured elf tried to follow him with the equally short-statured dwarg charging from behind, but Antonnel would not let them—for while a human body performed elementalism worse than a spiritual one, Antonnel could access a certain weapon that only humans could use.

Sorcery.

With a flick of his wrist, Antonnel cast a spell on the incoming dwarg. Unlike those below him, he did not need a wand or some such to use the power his old comrade had left behind.

A flash of light erupted from his hand as the dwarg’s body was immediately surrounded by luminescent glyphs. Almost immediately after, the undead’s stocky body was sent plummeting to the ground with tremendous speed, the weight of its body and its weapon working against it.

Antonnel was just about to do the same thing with the giant, but the elf had already closed the distance. The pitiful undead tried to run him over with the sword but suddenly froze in mid-air as glyphs formed shackles that restricted the elf’s joints, locking them in place.

Such primitive ways of fighting could easily be neutralized by taking control of their joints, after all. Truly, sorcery was superior. His partner was right to study it so much.

With a snap of his fingers, the glyphs on the elf swordsman’s body warped, bending space with them as the majority of the undead’s form vanished into nothingness. Simultaneously, the world shook as the giant was flattened against the ground.

Leonel, in anger, shouted something Antonnel could not hear and the mutilated undead started to rapidly regenerate, wasting Antonnel’s efforts.

This was not their first conflict with each other though, so Antonnel naturally knew this would happen. Ultimately, his efforts succeeded in buying him some time, so he hastily made some space between him and the rest.

‘Barriers will be useless against the elderwood blade and the dwarg’s hammer. Too much for the gigantes’ weight too, though I can simply evade its slow strikes… As for the snake woman, experience tells me it’s not great in close combat but is mainly there to buy Leonel time in case someone gets close.’

He did not particularly excel in close combat, but even he trumped that snake woman when they clashed in the past. But then again, Antonnel managed to fuse with his four companions back then. Now, however, he could not even try. If he took them out, Rolf would swoop in to kill them if the undead hadn’t already done so.

At some point, Jermes had cut off Antonnel’s path to the Spirit Tower, forcing Antonnel to halt. In the former gladiator’s hands was a trident and what appeared to be a net.

Logic dictated that the items were anything but ordinary. Antonnel had never seen the Gladiator King fight, but history mentioned him being a master of all weapons—and also unarmed combat, as demonstrated by their earlier scuffle. The armaments must have been items that he’d carefully refined for decades after Transcending. A difficult feat that only Transcendents who work closely with tools can even think of learning.

‘Given how he hasn’t been one for that long, those should be the only ones he has… and they shouldn’t be that strong.’

Normal objects had a difficult time containing a Transcendent’s power, after all. An exception would be if the item had some sort of connection to their Transcendence—which was possible in this case, since Antonnel remembered seeing that type of weapon used by Argonian gladiators.

Even with this in mind, Antonnel decided that the Gladiator King was relatively low on the list of people threatening him at the moment. The man simply lacked the depth to match Antonnel’s existence.

The elf and the dwarg were the biggest threats, for their lethality lay in their tools. Furthermore, they were dead, and as such, would come at him regardless of consequence or the threat of destruction. Naturally, the Sword Star didn’t need mentioning. The ridiculously old human was occupying the majority of Antonnel’s attention simply by being nearby.

The moment he let his guard down, any of the three would destroy him.

‘I… There is no way out.’

Antonnel initially intended to flee to his domain, betting on the inherent advantages the place would grant him. But it was steadily becoming apparent that his wish would not be coming true. There were far too many opponents.

His options were being limited severely and he was surrounded from all sides. The Sword Star would slowly recover his power while Antonnel fought off the rabble as well. If that wasn’t enough, the country his partner left behind was being destroyed by their battle. It was slow, but he could feel the noose tightening around his neck. His opponents weren't inexperienced whelps and made no mistakes in cutting off all his options as soon as they appeared.

‘I see...’

It seemed his journey and the dream he shared would end here today.

Antonnel had made a gamble in pursuing the realm beyond what he knew. He hadn’t underestimated his continental competitors either. In fact, the very pursuit of the realm beyond was proof that he acknowledged his opponents, as a few more Transcendent spirit beasts weren’t going to be enough.

Yet, it seemed he hadn’t prepared enough.

'I... I have failed. I have failed us all.'

The realization that his life would end soon, Antonnel's mind experienced a moment of clarity. And he used it to talk to the four friends who stayed behind with him—who shared his dream with him.

'I am sorry.'

Antonnel would acknowledge it—he had lost. Humans seemed to feel despair when they knew the end was coming, but he was not a human. And so, knowing that he would die, Antonnel simply intended to do what needed to be done.

'Fine. You people win.'

But did they think he would go quietly into the night? That he would let his life end in a whimper?

They were wrong.

And he would show them.

════════════════════════════════

‘Gods, these old guys are really something else.’

Jerme gripped his trident tightly as he watched his betters fight.

One old guy killed two Transcendents in the blink of an eye and even did something to prevent the Sage King from doing the fusion technique that battlemages were somewhat famous for. Another old guy used four Transcendent corpses as puppets to fight. Then the last old guy somehow managed to fight everyone else without getting killed immediately.

‘What the hell am I doing here…? I shouldn’t be here at all!’

Finding weapons he could use had been a pain when he became an Ascendant, but that was nothing compared to when he became a Transcendent. It took decades to figure out he could slowly and carefully make weapons out of his power or infuse that power into existing weapons.

Then it took even longer to actually do that to a bunch of weapons. Decades of his life were dedicated to each one and they broke if he used them too much afterward.

Sadly, even with his small successes, he didn't think he had what it took to compete with the old guard. They were something else entirely. Each of them lived in an era of chaos and thrived in their own ways. Maybe he should have reneged on that promise to work for the Golden Star after all. Honor was all well and good but Jerme wanted to stay alive. He could help more people alive than if he was dead.

Besides, how was he going to live like a king for eternity if he died like a dog? Hadn’t that been the whole purpose of seeking strength in the first place? It was also his reward for being such a good person back when it was really hard to be one.

‘Seriously, I gotta get the hell outta here…’

He didn’t want to get slashed in the back by the old guy in a fancy bathrobe though. So Jerme would have to make himself useful while looking for a way out of this colossal mess. Earlier, he’d delayed the Sage King on his own—that should be enough to say he participated, right?

Surely, nobody would fault him.

This desire was further cemented when he saw the Sage King absolutely manhandle the War God’s puppets. Seriously, what the hell was that? How does a giant just turn into rotting meat paste so suddenly?

Jerme had taken the initiative to cut the Sage King’s escape path off, but now he was regretting that decision because the Sword Star and the War God were on the other side of the battle. Who would bail Jerme out of trouble now that he was on his own over here? Nobody. The answer was nobody. He'd have to save his own hide.

Even as he complained, however, Jerme’s gaze unwittingly fell on what used to be the Republic of Arkhan. Or part of it, that is.

Forests, buildings, roads, grasslands, and mountains had all ended up being converted into wastelands where only destruction could be seen. Nothing would be growing in this place for the next couple of centuries, that was for sure. Just like the lands north of Aizen, a testament to the destruction higher beings could cause. Additionally, even after the elf and the dragon died, there was still an overwhelming heat filling the air that made even him uncomfortable.

How many people died today? Jerme couldn’t even begin to imagine. And honestly, he hadn’t been paying much attention either, for his life was literally at risk in this fight—the Sage King had to die, otherwise, he’d take revenge on Jerme for participating in the plot against him.

‘What a waste…’

Jerme’s heart ached, remembering how he too, had almost ended up the same way. He was living a relatively pleasant life until the empire came along and decided it wanted everything from one end of the continent to the other. Naturally, his village had refused and was easily crushed by a single Ascendant’s careless wave.

It had just been a wave of a hand. Really, it had been that simple to completely destroy everything he had known up to that point. They had been swept aside like worthless pieces of trash.

‘The weak have no choice but to submit to the whims of the strong.’

Jerme understood that a long time ago. That was why he sought out strength. He wanted to be the person who represented the little guys. Even now, seeing such careless destruction just didn’t sit right with him.

It felt… extremely unpleasant.

But what could he do? Mouth off to those three and tell them to stop fighting? Scold them all for their lack of discipline and consideration to the common people?

‘Hah. That’s a dumb way to die, right there.’

Even after becoming a Transcendent—or rather, especially because he was a Transcendent—Jerme understood that you could think whatever you wanted to think, but you couldn’t say or do whatever you wanted say or do.

Only the strongest could live like that. Just like these three old guys.

‘...Agh, damnit. Fine, let’s try a little harder. Come to think of it, it’ll be really bad for the company if Arkhan is in tatters after this. I’m just being a good employee, that’s all.’

Jerme sighed as he got ready to charge in at the first sign of an opening, but the Sage King suddenly teleported high up into the sky. It was a surprise, sure, but he and the others could catch up in a second or two—for Transcendents, that is, because time was a bit wonky for him and presumably everyone else at his level.

Vaguely, Jerme could see the spatial fluctuations the actions caused. And he even realized that the Sword Star had done something to prevent the Sage King from teleporting further away. It was kind of like the sorcerer got caught in a net, like the one Jerme liked to use when facing beasts.

‘What’s he up to now…?’

It didn’t take long to realize that the Sage King hadn’t done that in an attempt to flee, but just to create some distance.

The Sage King suddenly shone with the blinding radiance of the summer sun as giant glyphs formed a ring in the sky, directly parallel to the ground. Space within the ring rippled, as shivers ran down Jerme’s spine—a phenomenon that hasn’t happened in perhaps three hundred years.

Barely a moment later, the sky was sundered as a few of the glyphs were destroyed. Jerme could tell it had come from the Sword Star, which was crazy because the guy hadn’t even swung his sword. Did the old guy not need to? If so, why’d he have a sword in the first place?

In any case, the attempt to disrupt whatever it was the Sage King was doing bore no fruit. Because the owl in a human’s body was smiling.

“None of you truly know what magic is, do you?” the Sage King asked them.

“What’s there to know?” The War God sneered. “I’ve seen plenty of unique powers in my conquests. All of them were cowed by sheer human ingenuity and grit! Yours will fall too.”

Now, it was the Sage King’s turn to sneer. “Fool. You place such petty curiosities on the same level as sorcery? And I thought you were the cunning one. But I suppose your head only comprehends schemes. Fine, then. Let me enlighten you.”

Suddenly, the Sage King’s body exploded into countless motes of light that reinforced the glyphs forming a ring in the sky, even reforming the ones destroyed by the Sword Star.

“Sorcery is a way to draw power from higher beings. Higher beings from other worlds, that is.”

Jerme flinched when the Sage King’s voice invaded his mind, something he didn’t think was possible ever since he became a Transcendent. Shouldn’t he be resistant to that kind of thing? He really should, if he wasn't. Regardless, there didn’t seem to be any adverse effects other than the initial surprise.

With a clear head, Jerme now realized the implications behind the words.

'Other worlds…? What does that even mean…?’

Jerme couldn’t help but grimace in thought. Now that he thought about it, spirit beasts apparently went to another world when they weren’t summoned. Was it something like that? Did that mean there were places other than the spirit world and magic apparently borrowed power from entities that lived there?

Then, Jerme’s gaze drifted over to the massive ring of glyphs in the sky, undulating hypnotically along with the space within the circle.

He didn’t know if it was intuition or something, but Jerme felt as if something very bad was about to happen. Something very bad for his plans to live leisurely for eternity within Arkhan's lands, which were the closest to the Star of Fortune's base. His intuition had never kicked in this intensely.

And his intuition proved accurate when the ring of glyphs turned into a portal that seemingly led to a sea of stars. An array of colors Jerme had never even seen before greeted him from the other side, and it would have been quite beautiful if it weren’t for the massive eye in the middle, peering into their world.

As if to make matters worse, some very unfriendly tentacles reached out from the other side of the portal and seemed intent on stabbing everyone present, every single one thick and long. Oh, and of course, the ends were pointy and seemed very hard indeed.

‘I really shouldn’t have come here…!’

No room for negotiation with the strange cosmic creature, it seemed. And he wasn’t the first one to realize it since the Sword Star shot up like a comet as the War God summoned countless floating skeletal heads made of miasma that swarmed the tentacles like locusts.

At the very least, their attacks actually got rid of the tentacles, so Jerme held out hope that he could handle the one headed for him too. The War God’s horde of severed heads even managed to get rid of multiple tentacles that came after him instead of the other undead puppets when he recalled them back into whatever unholy space they were supposed to be kept in.

Jerme stowed away his spear and net, replacing it with a round shield and an ax.

As the strange creature’s massive tentacle tried to get at him, he deftly dodged to the side while guiding it away with his shield. Then he smoothly severed it with a chop from his ax.

‘That was easier than I thought.’

Jerme was starting to think things would actually work out well when the giant eye started trying to cross over to their world. And it would have succeeded too, if it could actually fit through the portal. For some reason, however, it seemed to be in pain.

And when Jerme really tried to look, he could see countless serpentine bolts of myriad-colored lightning snaking all over the eyeball. Jerme had never seen lightning like that. Nor did he ever feel this… afraid of something.

‘That fucking Sage King…!’

The lightning was apparently on their side, so everything was all well and good. But Jerme wasn’t sure how long that would last.

Worse yet, Jerme could sense the creature’s power steadily climb higher despite the myriad-colored lightning’s hindrance. Maybe, just maybe, it was actually stronger than a Transcendent and all of them were beyond fucked.

Right now, about half of him wanted to run while the other half…

‘Something tells me that thing isn’t going to care about how much destruction it causes either…’

Jerme bit his lower lip, feeling extremely conflicted. “Don’t be a fucking hero, Jerme… Those guys all die from overwork… You've saved enough people. Isn't that enough? Now, it's time to enjoy life...”

He had lived a hard life, so wasn't it time for a nice long vacation? His village was destroyed on a whim, he’d been spared on a whim, then he was sold into slavery on a whim. Then he had to fight tooth and nail for every single day he drew breath. He got stronger and stronger and stronger until nobody even thought of betting against him.

It was his turn to have a good time now. His turn to dress in silks and be surrounded by scantily clad women who whispered compliments they didn't really mean. His turn to sleep in nice beds and eat good food.

Truly, he had earned it.

‘Come on, Jerme. You’re the Gladiator King. The most glorified mercenary in the world. Money is the only language you speak… No need to care about all those people. Someone else is gonna save them... Nah, who am I kidding. Nobody's coming.’

“...Fuck.” Jerme cursed under his breath before clicking his tongue. Despite his thoughts, Jerme knew how naive it was to think someone would always show up at just the right time to save the day for everyone. Nobody had been there for his village, at the very least. And the village before that. The one before that too.

Gritting his teeth, he charged ahead as he remembered the thoughts that had run through his head on that fateful day.

What if someone had saved his village?

What if, when the empire came knocking, someone strong enough to make them go away was around?

His village had been small. It wasn’t particularly wealthy, nor did it have a lot of people living in it. All they had were tall tales about how their ancestors used to be great people or how that mountain used to be over there.

There was nothing to protect and hence, nobody to protect it.

But what if there had been? What if someone strong had been around that day?

What if it was him?

As he watched his own corner of the world shatter in front of his very eyes, Jerme had wished that someone, anyone, had shown up to save them.

He wished that he could save them. Save everyone.

‘Fucking lame.’

Jerme scoffed at himself. In the end, wasn’t he too late?

Maybe he was a little stronger now, but his village and his people were long gone. He was the last one, wasn’t he? Time had not been kind to them; nobody even knew what they were called anymore.

‘It’s a stupid name anyway. Nobody needs to remember it.’

Agani.

It was, in the lost tongue of their people, a word that meant Bravery.

That so-called bravery was what urged his people to resist the empire despite overwhelming odds. And it had been what got them killed too. Jerme thought they should have been named the “Stupid” tribe instead.

But even then…

Even then, his blood boiled under his skin, bursting out as blindingly white flames. He felt it. Something calling for his name—something ancient. There was something in his veins urging him to step forward despite being surrounded by monsters much greater than him.

It urged him to resist. To defy.

‘Agh, fuck it. Let’s just throw one spear and run away.’

Jerme drew a deep breath as he cocked his arm back before launching his spear with as much force and power as he could. It screeched across the sky as a pillar of light, headed straight for the eye.

‘Fuck me, I really liked that spear! It took thirty years to get it just right!’

Just as he was about to turn and flee, Jerme saw the creature extend countless tentacles to stop his attack, but the spear slipped past every single one as if guided by some greater will. As it drew near, lightning snaked around it out of nowhere, each serpentine bolt a different color from the other.

The spear penetrated the barrier, and for a moment it seemed to be flying across an unknowable distance despite seemingly inches away from its target. Flinching, the eye drew away but the lightning got stronger, pulling the giant creature and Jerme’s spear together.

Until the two collided, and the spear penetrated deeply into the colossal eye.

‘What in the fuck is happening…’

The eye fell away from the portal, once again revealing the vast cosmic sea of stars and colors beyond the portal. Jerme could almost feel it calling for him, coaxing him to come closer, but he shook the feeling away. Why the hell would he go over there when a ridiculously powerful giant eyeball was lurking around wherever that was?

He’d much rather stick to this world. This world was the best. It had arenas, women, and wine. Nothing could beat that holy trinity. The Sun God Church could eat his balls if they disagreed.

It didn’t take long for the many colored lightning to creep into the portal—and for a moment, Jerme thought it would attack them all the same way it seemed to have a vendetta against the giant eyeball—but it merely streaked through the glyphs and disintegrated them one by one.

Soon, all the glyphs were gone and the portal gradually blurred into nothingness, revealing a perfectly bland sky devoid of clouds because a bunch of Transcendents tried to kill each other nearby.

A dull stillness overcame them, and for a few moments, the Sword Star, the War God, and the Jerme waited with bated breath for something to happen. But minutes passed—mere seconds for a mortal—and nothing occurred. That, more than anything, confirmed it.

The battle was over.

‘I… I actually survived! Or rather, wasn’t I pretty impressive back there? By the unholy depths, I'm amazing, no?’

Relief quickly turned into greed for Jerme, as he tried to come up with a polite way to ask for something extra. Maybe a house or some imperial princess. He felt that his request was warranted. After all, the contract merely specified that it would be an ambush of three people against the Sage King—not whatever fiasco happened today.

A Transcendent elf with a Transcendent spirit beast showed up out of nowhere, And when the Sage King got cornered, he tried to summon some world-ending eyeball creature.

That, quite frankly, was not mentioned anywhere in the contract.

Jerme was right in asking for additional compensation. Maybe he could ask for land? Not in Argonia though, because everywhere was shit there. And definitely not in the Republic because they’d just messed it all up.

But before all that, Jerme eyed his surroundings.

Everywhere he looked, there was only devastation that didn't need to happen. Today was a tragedy, it truly was. And what was horrifying was that it could have been worse.

There was nothing to be happy about, really. He couldn't even call it a pyrrhic victory.

Yet, in his heart, he celebrated a small triumph—that somewhere out there, in a place that he couldn’t see, was a tiny village with a brat who could continue being a brat for a little longer because Jerme chose to stand and fight today.

════════════════════════════════

[Fun Fact Corner] 

- This Fun Fact corner was made because the Author made a bunch of settings and backstories but the characters are so competent that it isn't plausible to show most of them. He'd have to dumb the characters down or place them in bullshit situations, which didn't sit right with him, so he just let the characters do their thing and cried in the corner, hugging his settings notebook.

- Magic/Sorcery in this story is actually similar to Evocation. Y'know, that thing DnD warlocks do. They draw power from higher beings and stuff. It was brought over by the actual Sage King, who was Antonnel the Owl's partner.

- The original Sage King was actually an otherworlder. Just not from Earth. Magic draws power from beings that reside in that world.

- They couldn't show up because, in my head, Rolf would never have let them, but the original Sage King had five other spirit beasts other than Antonnel—who later anchored themselves to Antonnel when the Sage King perished so they could remain in the material world. These are modeled after the four auspicious beasts plus a golden dragon—so a Fire attribute Red Phoenix, a wind attribute Azure Dragon, a water attribute Black Turtle, and an earth attribute White Tiger.

- The Golden Dragon didn't stay behind after the Sage King's death, but everyone else thinks it's still around. Instead of anchoring itself to Antonnel, it returned to the spirit world. Its fate is unknown.

- The eyeball creature is "The Watcher" who is responsible for the Tower's oath spells. And yes, the myriad colored lightning is the manifestation of Planar Laws stopping it from interfering with the affairs of lesser creatures.

- Contrary to what Jerme, Rolf, and Leonel thought, the Watcher's goal was only to kill Leonel and even repair the damage from their fight. Antonnel didn't think Rolf was an unnecessary existence and would serve as a check against the demi-human creatures outside of the continent. Jerme, on the other hand, was a faultless mercenary for Antonnel. Leonel was its only target because Antonnel resented him and saw him as a hindrance to the peace that the original Sage King wished for.

- Jerme's tribe name, "Agani", comes from the Filipino word "Bayani" which means "Hero". I just took out the B and replaced Y with a G. Because why not? Actually, I had intended for them to be a bigger part of the story, as some sort of secret hero clan or something. But I can't come up with a story that could make use of them well. So I made them go extinct instead. lol (This is in line with the empire's modus operandi of devouring cultures and replacing them with its own, so it's actually the more plausible development.)

- The War God's puppets aren't actually Transcendents. They're just borrowing his "power". Here's a hint, Leonel shares some techniques with Voldemort from the Harry Potter series.

- Another fun fact about the War God. He has trouble dealing with single-entity powerhouses like Rolf. Even Yabo, the elf that Rolf dropped at the start of the battle, is the same. While the puppets have a Transcendent's special treatment, they can't go toe-to-toe with actual Transcendents who are proficient in close combat. This is because they'll just evade the inferior puppets' attacks while taking them all out one by one. Or they'll outright ignore the puppets and go straight for the Leonel.

Arc#4 Interlude: Pure Offense

Rolf noticed four new entities enter the battlefield, but mostly ignored them.

They were probably the other four spirit beasts the Sage King had a contract with in addition to the silver owl. Or rather, since the Sage King was the silver owl, then these four were contracted to the owl. He didn't think it was possible for spirit beasts to form contracts with other spirit beasts, but this didn't seem like the time to ask the Sage King for specifics. They were trying to kill him, after all.

Regardless, since these four were all Ascendants it was clear what their purpose in this fight was—they would fuse with the Sage King the same way Valter and every veteran battlemage could with their own spirit beasts.

Except he'd never heard of anyone fusing with four at once. Yet another hole in his knowledge.

In the end, however, it hardly mattered to Rolf. That wasn't his fight yet. Surely, that racist bastard and the Gladiator King could hold off the Sage King while he dealt with their pointy-eared guest. They weren't that incapable.

'That should be enough probing for now.'

Rolf and Yabo the elven Transcendent hadn't been treating their previous exchanges all that seriously, trying to get a measure of each other before making an earnest effort. It was a shame that Yabo threw away most of Rolf's insights when he merged with the giant ryuu.

Luckily, what he now knew about Yabo was enough. It would have to be. Or he could probe a little more and see.

‘He looks nothing like an elf now.’

Instead of the diminutive heights, all elves possessed, Yabo was now three meters tall and had a natural armor of fiery red scales. He’d grown a long and thick tail as well, with an obviously poisonous barb that was absent on the ryuu’s body.

The elf’s facial features and the pointy ears were gone, replaced with a draconic head. If Rolf hadn’t known better, he would have assumed he was fighting some new form of monster. Or a Transcendent Nightmare Spawn that managed to sneak out while he was gone. Thinking about it, he supposed it was similar to the Warbeast race’s intrinsic transformation ability.

In any case, the creature in front of him didn’t look like an elf at all.

Rolf had known a long time ago that spirit beasts could merge with their hosts. Aside from the modified appearance and additional elemental affinities, one could also obtain tremendous physical power from it—but only if one was significantly weaker than their spirit beast.

Yabo was already physically strong, so Rolf could surmise that the reason they fused was so Yabo could use the [Fire] affinity that the dragon possessed or because of something else. Or maybe he just liked being taller and having a tail?

“You know,” Yabo began to say.

But the moment Rolf noticed part of Yabo's attention turn to the silver owl in the sky, he rushed forward at a speed that was fast even for a Transcendent. In the world of silence only Transcendents could be part of, the wind howled past Rolf’s ears as he flickered into a blur, appearing right in front of Yabo. The elf was surprised. And Rolf would be too, if their situations were switched.

Aiming to freeze that expression of shock for eternity, Rolf swept his sword sideways, rending space and everything else in his edge's path.

Or it would have if his priceless sword hadn't failed to bisect the draconic elf.

‘Tough.’

Rolf swatted the hand that tried to grab him then did the same to the tail that aimed to wrap its tip around his neck. Then he struck Yabo with his palm while backing off, freeing his blade from the other’s ridiculously tough body.

As space was created between them yet again, Rolf allowed some surprise to bleed into his aged face and saw some of the same bleed into his opponent’s. Just as Rolf had been confident in his lethality, it seemed his adversary was confident in durability—no doubt having expected to block everything with the scales.

And truly, the scales had been hard. Most of the force and the power he put into the attack died just to get through, only to be met by high-density muscle underneath.

Realizing that he’d have to exert more effort into fending off this elf than he’d initially thought, Rolf clicked his tongue. His perception and his power spread out as he flickered forward again.

Unfortunately, the other side was prepared this time.

Yabo’s initial wound had already healed, hinting at a fraudulent level of regenerative ability—which would, again, warrant more effort on Rolf’s part to deal with. The Sword Star’s deadly strikes were met with a scaly fist that barely parried the black blade while suffering minimal damage. It seemed the arms were especially more difficult to damage than the rest of the body.

Rolf assumed Yabo’s legs were the same. That was usually how it went with these pugilists.

'I suppose it's to be expected of an elf?'

Their society was quite militaristic, which showed in the fluid way Yabo had fought during their exchanges. Even after fusing, There was a purpose to every inch of movement and sharpness to his attacks that only a long life of refinement could achieve. It was marvelous to behold, and Rolf couldn't help but admire the foreign movements. If there was anything he could learn and add to his arsenal, that would be wonderful.

What truly made it worse was the intense heat roiling off the elf's scales. Of course, despite looking like an old man, Rolf's skin was tough too so he wouldn't be affected so easily. But he felt like he was standing next to the sun and no skin was tough enough to endure that for too long. The air around them was quite literally being warped by Yabo's mere existence.

Despite how disadvantageous it was, Rolf swapped to a more defensive style as he patiently watched for an opportunity to create an opening. Thousands of exchanges were exchanged between them, the force of their clashes magnified upon the world. Their fight had brought them farther and farther away from the surface into an expanse of blue above the clouds. Yet, every punch and kick produced a fierce shockwave that upturned the fields far below them. Be they humans, monsters, or civilization itself, everything was equal in front of overwhelming force. The few times Yabo saw fit to involve fire with his attacks, the ground melted under the heat despite being leagues and leagues below them.

It was truly the tragedy of collateral damage.

After countless small wounds were healed on Yabo’s body, Rolf broke away and held up a hand to signal a break.

"Oh?" Yabo stopped, likely acquiescing due to a mixture of shock and interest. “Tired already, Sword Star? I had thought you had more in you, considering how you were fine-tuning your power to cause as little damage to the surroundings as possible. Only your strength is lauded, but it seems your kindness must be noted as well.”

Rolf shouldered the black blade as his aged eyes regarded the other. “I had some leeway. Considering how my opponent isn’t very dangerous.”

It was indeed true that he was taking special care so that his strikes wouldn’t rough up the surroundings as much as Yabo’s, but there was a reason for that other than some twisted form of compassion for whoever lived in this land.

“Leeway, you say?” Yabo chuckled, not seeming offended in the slightest. “I must admit that your skill with a blade is immense, given how I haven’t landed a hit all this time. But I’ve seen better.”

“Really, now?”

“Indeed. It’s a bit disappointing to see someone called the Sword Star only amount to this much.”

Rolf couldn’t help but smile at that. “You know, plenty of the young whelps I teach back home complain about their monikers so much, because it gives the enemy an idea on how they fight.”

Yabo’s head tilted slightly to the side. “Interesting.”

“Isn’t it?” Rolf laughed lightly, looking down at his left palm. “But I think differently. I believe that everything, even one's moniker, is useful.”

With a snap of his fingers, the sound of countless tinkling bells simultaneously being rung echoed within their minds before the world went quiet.

“It makes my enemies think that my sword is the most dangerous aspect I have.”

Then the world around them grew dark, as if both of them were in a void of nothingness.

There was nothing below or above them. Nor was there anything on their right or left. The other three Transcendents had vanished too.

In this world, only the two of them existed.

“What…” Yabo sputtered, his composure starting to break as he observed his surroundings. “What is this place…?”

“It’s nothing,” Rolf answered, his previously tense body relaxing. “Well, since we’re here now, we can chat more leisurely."

Aizen had a very practical view on combat, which mainly stemmed from Rolf himself—though Reivan the First also helped flesh a lot of things out. And one of the most important tenets was to never pointlessly talk with one’s enemies.

Emphasis on “pointless”. It was perfectly fine to do so if there was a point. Such as distracting the enemy so they stay still long enough for you to use your technique on them.

'Why does it always work, I wonder...?'

While gesturing at the surrounding void. “Time is diluted here, even from a Transcendent’s point of view. I can still join the fight against the Sage King after this.”

The dragonified elf gnashed its sharp teeth, no doubt offended at how sure of himself Rolf was.

But Rolf paid it no mind, merely sighing as he spoke. “Did you know, elf? My moniker caught on before I became a Transcendent. Before that, I used my sword to solve most of my tribulations—to bring forth my and my friend’s dreams to reality.”

Rolf gently ran his fingers across the flat side of the blade he’d been granted.

“I have changed a lot since that time.”

It wasn’t just the way he fought, either. Back then, peace was an illusion—or simply a short reprieve spent to wash away the blood. It was a simple time, when violence solved everything.

And it still would, even now. But Rolf, by watching Aizen throughout the eons, learned that there were countless other ways to solve a problem, as long as one spent the effort to search for them.

Rolf’s problem had always been the limitations of swordsmanship.

He didn’t have an affinity to the elements or a special gift to give him an edge in battle. So he couldn’t just transform into wind or lightning to reach faraway foes. Nor could he summon world-ending flames to destroy a particularly large and durable opponent.

The stronger one’s opponents got, the more difficult it was to only rely on physical force. Sure, it solved everything eventually, but it took far too long. And by that time, he would be dead. Or perhaps those he fought for would be destroyed.

And so, that’s when Rolf thought of a solution.

Force was the only thing he had. So he had to find a way so he could unleash as much of it as he could without worrying about time.

That was the basis for his domain.

It was a space with nothing in it. A space cut off from the world, where he could truly take his time. There was nothing there to give him an advantage either—just him and his enemy.

“Domains are a funny thing,” Rolf said as he smiled. “People seem to think it has to stay in one place. Leonel believes this and so too does the Sage King, if his permanence in the Spirit Tower is a sign. Elves too, believe this. In fact, it is part of your nature to set down roots, no?”

Yabo’s brows furrowed. “This is a domain…?”

“The Saintess believes this to be true, though she can be forgiven because she hasn’t even truly begun to make it, given how busy she is with her dreams. But I've discovered otherwise.”

“That’s... That's impossible...! You can’t… You can’t just bring it around with you!”

“And who said so?” Rolf raised a brow before shaking his head in exasperation.

Yabo clenched his fists, the transformation around his face wavering. “You… They said your domain was some mountain…”

To this, Rolf nodded. “That is the truth. That is a very special place for me. And it is also conveniently at the heart of the place I wish to watch over. It was perfect.”

“Then…”

“The world favors me there, I almost never run out of resources, and my perception grows sharper while in it. I also heal faster there. And just like everyone else, I am simply better when I’m there. It is, without a shadow of a doubt, my domain.”

Specifically, it was his first domain.

And Yabo seemed to have read between the lines of his words too. “Impossible…”

“It has merely never been done. Not impossible.” Rolf corrected him. "We unknowingly created our own limitations. We forged the chains that bind us ourselves."

‘They once said you were only supposed to have one wife. Then people started having two. Then three… Who says that can’t be applied to domains?’

The Sword Sanctum was formed naturally.

Because that was where he realized his purpose in life. Because that was where he laid his friend to rest. Because it was where countless knights slept until the end of the world. Because that was where he held his eternal vigil. And because when he perished, he wished for some memento of him to be buried there too.

The sheer weight of that place to Rolf could not even be described by words.

Prying it away from the world and making it his domain was easy. Smooth, with practically no resistance whatsoever.

This deep dark void was different.

Rolf had simply rejected the utility of domains itself.

He wasn’t a shield that could protect like the Saintess could. Nor could he push the nation to the next era like the royal family.

In his mind, he understood what his role was.

‘I am a sword.’

Rolf was a blade that would rend the nation’s enemies asunder. What use did he have for such a defensive technique? By the time his enemies made it to his domain, it would have already been too late.

He needed to attack. What need was there of defense if his enemies were dead?

‘It took a while.’

Perhaps he had the Outlands and its countless nightmares to thank. It had produced an almost constant source of Transcendents for him to fight—to use as a whetstone. With their sacrifice, he steadily inched closer to perfection.

In this place, there was no need to rush.

He could take his time attacking as much as he wanted. Because his enemies couldn’t escape as long as he was alive. And because for the outside world, there was barely a difference if he stayed here for a single second or even a year.

“It was foolish of you to come here, elf.” Rolf let his sword arm fall to his side as his gaze sharpened, only to soften right after. “But I’m not so foolish as to kill you. That would be creating enmity with an entire continent.”

Despite his words, Yabo still seemed guarded, which amused Rolf greatly. These elves had so much time on their hands and so much… security in their lives. It provided a great environment to foster skill and techniques, but there was nothing to test the really dangerous ones because they had no enemies.

It was a shiny and intimidating strength. But a brittle one.

‘It’s still not something that should be needlessly provoked.’

“I heard…” Rolf began, as he slowly poured more and more power into the black blade in his hand. “That when an elf is born, the corners of their ears are cut off and planted. A tree sprouts, and eventually, the ears heal.”

Yabo’s brows rose. “How do you…”

“And when they die,” Rolf continued, ignoring the elf. “The tree dies in their place instead. Or rather, the elf becomes the tree, and their body slowly regains its shape. But because you can only be born one time, this can only happen once.”

“No, wait…”

“Do you still have your birth tree, elf?”

It was a rhetorical question. The answer didn’t matter, after all.

‘Should I also kill the spirit beast?’

Naturally, it wouldn’t really die. But the more powerful a spirit beast got, the more time it needed to recover from a death.

But after thinking about it, there was no need. The elf would be a tree for a few centuries. That wasn’t the optimal form to make use of a spirit beast at all. Rolf would rather save the effort on the next fight. He had a feeling that the Sage King wouldn't go down quietly.

Rolf’s grip tightened around the handle of his sword, which was growing brighter and brighter. He didn’t actually know what the power was called, so he simply called it “power”.

Whatever the power was, it was responsible for increasing a Transcendent’s effect on the world—on giving their existence weight. Importance. Significance. And while a Transcendent could easily withstand it, objects could not. It was why, despite knowing how to craft weapons for Transcendents, no weapon could truly fulfill his ideals because they couldn’t handle too much power.

But this sword was different.

This sword wouldn’t break no matter how much he abused it.

“Can you sense it?” Rolf showed Yabo the glowing black sword. “Just imagine what happens when I swing this. The world itself will ensure that it hits and kills my target. If I pour in a little more, it would probably kill you even with your birth tree.”

‘If I had done this in the real world, it would have significantly changed the map.’

Which would have wasted the children of the kingdom’s time in trying to fix the republic, so he tried to avoid it when possible.

“We…” Yabo preemptively undid his fusion with his spirit beast. He then raised both hands in surrender as he smiled awkwardly. “We can still talk about this. I can just leave. Right now. And I'll never return."

“You said the Sage King owes you a service.”

“Indeed. But we’ll just have to take the loss.”

Rolf thought about it. Truthfully, he also didn’t want to waste more resources on this fight. The Sage King was old and experienced in fighting, given how frequently Leonel tried to start something. A cornered Transcendent who was experienced in combat was a dangerous thing and he wanted as much leeway as he could get.

Furthermore, the fact that the Sage King willingly ventured out of the Spirit Tower—which was obviously the Sage King’s domain—was suspicious. Sure, there was bait. But still.

‘I can’t really trust him though.’

Thinking about it, nothing was stopping the elf from simply going away and then returning to interrupt at a critical moment. And that pretty much decided things for Rolf.

‘I do not gamble.’

He would not let fate roll its dice on this.

“It was foolish of you to come here, elf.” Rolf raised the sword in the air, watching as Yabo’s face fell. “When you return, tell your people what happened here. Tell them I am here. Tell them I am always ready.”

The elf was just about to say something, but by then, Rolf’s sword had already drawn a graceful arc downward.

════════════════════════════════

The void was cut along with the elf, so Rolf found himself back in the real world after his attack. His sword arm felt numb but that wasn’t all that strange. The last time he used this technique, he didn't have an arm afterward. It took an entire year to grow back, even when he stayed within the Sword Sanctum to accelerate his recovery.

Internally, he just hoped the elves wouldn’t call his bluff. The chances were low, given typical elven temperaments. Yabo had simply been an anomaly, not the norm.

But crazy people existed. Rolf merely hoped the message wouldn’t reach them.

It was essential, however. Because the elves couldn’t be allowed to think that humanity was weak. Or else they would be far more willing to dip their toes in Sentorale—just like today. Rolf was forced by circumstance to retaliate for their invasive acts.

‘Now, how are the others doing…?’

Rolf looked around. He knew barely any time had passed. Not even a second, most likely. But anything could happen in that time.

A sky-piercing shriek pierced the air and Rolf had to infuse power into his eardrums so they could handle the strain. It was a bit of a waste, but the alternative was blocking off his hearing—and doing that to one of his eight senses was beyond foolish.

He didn’t even have to look to find out what had made the noise.

There was a giant vortex where the giant silver owl and the other four spirit beasts used to be. And Rolf’s sixth sense—his intuition—was telling him not to allow that to happen. Even though it wasn’t life-threatening in itself, it would most likely be very inconvenient.

‘Damn these incompetent…’

Rolf hastily poured power into his sword again, fine-tuned it, and then swung. It was a process that took a fraction of a second.

A scar was painted over the sky where the vortex was, and it spat out the spirit beasts involved. This technique, which had yet to be named because he didn’t like naming techniques in the first place, was what he had initially planned to use to split Yabo and the dragon spirit beast.

Valter and Freed had been a tremendous helper in this endeavor. Truly, having comrades was a wonderful thing. Rolf just wished he had time to perfect it on Transcendents because that had required a lot more power than he thought.

“I kill the intruder.” Rolf sighed, trying not to let his two allies know that he was running on fumes by now. “Now I save you from the Sage King. What was the point of this alliance if I have to do everything myself?”

Jerme, who was the youngest of the Transcendents present but was just as old as Valter, didn’t dare to reply. He merely scratched his scruffy hair and smiled sheepishly. “The Sword Star is really something else. I’m glad I’ve never had to step on Aizen’s toes.”

“Bah.” Leonel snorted. “Don't act all high and mighty, old dog. You wouldn’t even have time to do whatever you just did if it weren’t for us.”

‘True enough.’

Having fought on numerous occasions, Leonel knew a lot about how Rolf fought. The unnaturally perceptive bastard had avoided his blade too many times to count.

Since his second domain wasn’t a physical location, he had to construct it from scratch every time he used it. That took a lot of time in a fight between Transcendents. Generally speaking, the target had to still be in the location by the time the domain was done too.

It had a lot of drawbacks, for all the benefits it granted him.

But it worked this time. And that’s all that matters.

Now, he would step back and let these two take center stage as he took on a more supportive role.

‘Well, there was a bump along the way, and this situation isn’t exactly optimal. But it’s three against one.’

Rolf sighed as he brandished his sword. Now that the unexpected guest got kicked out, it was time to resume kill who they came here to kill.