10 (8)

After investing in Administration, his points dropped sharply by 10,000. All that remained was the blueprint for the Hanging Gardens, and he invested another 10,000 into it.

Ding. The Hanging Gardens were registered in the black information window. Indeed, judging by the blueprint, it was an exceedingly beautiful structure. More importantly, there was a reason he chose this one despite there being many other Wonders: the cost. The Hanging Gardens did not need to be built on a massive scale. The only troublesome part was creating the magical device that lifted water upward, but the design for that had been revealed to Louis—so he only needed Jerome to build and operate it. However, this device accepted orders only from the System. That meant Louis could operate exactly one, and even if the production method were copied, it would not function anywhere else.

A unique building. That was why it was a Wonder. Louis did not know what kind of nation Babylon was, but it seemed they had wielded astonishing magic. He laid out his plan: first secure a plaza, then raise a tall tower there, and build it so anyone in the city could see it.

Like a fountain, in a way. In the past, his father would have opposed letting commoners see such a thing, reserving it for nobles—but now, no one could oppose Louis’s will. Even if the Prince-King tried to interfere, Louis possessed absolute authority within his territory, enough to force it through.

That, perhaps, was what made the Duchy of Eron better than other countries—at least for the factions.

A sturdy fortress wall, steeped in an old and dignified aura that did not fall short even compared to House Haidek, spread out before Louis’s eyes. Across the vast grasslands, wheat grew thick and vigorous, and perhaps having noticed the procession Louis led, hundreds of farmers stopped their work and welcomed him.

In any territory, the locals took pride in themselves, and naturally, the locals of “lesser” territories discriminated even among one another. Since Louis had delivered an astounding victory, it was obvious—especially for the merchant class that had to travel between territories—that their shoulders would have risen.

Once they entered the city, crowds poured out everywhere just to catch a glimpse of Louis’s face. Yet they did not raise cheers. The entire city wore dark clothes, preparing mourning garments for Duke Remitri and his two sons. Even so, everyone cheered silently in their hearts, waving their hands.

At times, Louis even showed the boldness to wave back to a few of them.

To citizens, the winner was what mattered; who the winner was did not seem all that important.

‘That’s the look of a conqueror.’

‘Proud.’

‘This place will become even more livable now. Since Duke Louis succeeded in conquest, an enormous amount of money will flow in.’

‘To achieve this at such a young age—how far will he rise from here?’

Of course, some looked at Louis with a critical gaze, but most felt exhilarated that House Haidek had been trampled underfoot.

After pushing through that long road where countless emotions churned, Louis arrived at the entrance, where many figures stood waiting—core houses that had upheld House Pontina for centuries in this city, along with blood relatives.

“We greet Duke Pontina Louis.”

Most of them used to ignore him even when he walked past, and the sight of nobles bowing all at once was spectacular. Only now did it feel real—he truly had grown.

Among them was Crinoli, the lawful wife who had always hated Louis—yet she was also his stepmother, the one who had “raised” him. Though the only memories he had of her from childhood were memories of being hit. She should be the first to speak among them. Louis, without even realizing it, released killing intent the moment he saw her.

At his current standing, taking revenge on his stepmother would be nothing. If Crinoli still thought he was the same child as before, then from today onward, living here would become difficult for her. Now, the master of this city—no, of the entire territory—was Louis.

Ever since unlocking Mana Addiction, Louis’s mana had begun to reach toward Sword Expert, and gathering enough mana to achieve Sword Expert was only a matter of time. As a result, Louis’s martial power had already surpassed the centurion level and was likely around chiliarch. If only that were all, but Louis’s mana had synergy with the Military Charisma trait to the point that Mihoff reacted sensitively to it. Accordingly, his presence was overwhelming.

Crinoli reeled under Louis’s suppressed emotions head-on. Up until now, she had planned to slap him the moment he arrived. Since Remitri’s bastard had killed one of her children, her hatred for Louis was so intense it nearly burst. She was convinced it was not skill but mere luck—that he must have used some dirty, cowardly trick.

But that was only true up to a moment ago, and she had no choice but to cancel her original plan. The Louis who had once left this place for Proia was nowhere to be found. In his stead stood a lion.

‘That bloodline really doesn’t go anywhere.’

Crinoli was shocked, and at the same time she realized that far from controlling Louis, even her own safety was now in danger. In the end, she could not utter a single insult she had prepared all night, and what came out was a powerless voice.

“…You’ve come.”

Louis spoke as though delivering a verdict.

“I have. To my hometown.”

The nobles in dark mourning clothes, like Crinoli, mostly looked at Louis with hostile eyes. It was inevitable—among them, not a single one except one person had been on Louis’s side. They were people who had doubted Louis so much that they had even feared his victory report might be false information fabricated by Marquis Gangpireu.

Yet they too could not display any sudden outburst, no different from the nobles Louis had passed along the way. In terms of rank, these were the houses that stood directly beneath House Pontina within Pontina lands. Among them was even a noble who had boasted to Crinoli that he would “knock Louis down a peg” here. But now, no matter how much those beside him signaled, he only sweated coldly, unable even to look Louis in the face.

‘This is my hometown. And at the same time, it was a battlefield where I had no allies at all. And…’

It was also the starting point of a great current to come. Louis’s killing intent was formidable, but the warriors he had brought with him also reinforced the atmosphere—Anok, Mihoff, and Kaiser. Boromir and Kalbang had already been dispersed after being assigned intelligent military tasks and administration. Old veteran Gaion had been entrusted with all four cities, and he had even confessed to Louis that it was the most satisfying moment of his life.

In any case, there were two Sword Experts among them. In particular, the hulking Anok—glowering as if searching for anyone who looked at Louis poorly—was enough to make any noble’s legs go weak. Kaiser and Mihoff wore blank expressions, but Mihoff, perhaps finding it fascinating to visit the heart of House Pontina—a place she might never have seen in a peaceful life—was looking around at the paintings, architecture, and portraits scattered everywhere. A murderous fiend when she held a sword, yet ordinarily a woman with an oddly innocent side.

All three were people Louis could safely entrust his back to, either because they had been tested by him, or because they had a reason they could not harm him—hostages held in Louis’s grasp. Even so, Louis had worked very hard to soothe Anok in order to assemble these three.

For days, Anok had gone without eating or drinking, fiercely opposing the recruitment of Mihoff. Louis had summoned him privately and told him bluntly: Mihoff had merely obeyed Marquis Gangpireu’s orders. Marquis Gangpireu was the one who had killed my brother, and I took thorough revenge on Marquis Gangpireu. If you cannot accept that, you are not worthy of being called a swordsman. And as they said, one word can change everything. This naïve warrior took that single line to heart, decided Mihoff had been a fine warrior and that he himself had been foolish, and apologized to Louis.

That said, he still never exchanged words with her, and whenever their eyes met, coldness and killing intent still seeped out. But Louis had succeeded in putting reins on them.

Every noble here bore hostility toward Louis. Yet even combined, they could not match the momentum of Louis and these three. Even so, one man was walking toward Louis. Louis turned his head to see who it was—and then his eyes widened.

“Uncle.”

The corners of Louis’s mouth, tense with killing intent until now, relaxed. The only man who had ever shown Louis warmth—someone who had long ago given up the succession in his youth and wandered from place to place—Pontina Derik, his blood kin. It was him. With slightly graying hair and a wrinkled face that proved the passage of years, Derik smiled broadly at Louis. It was the kind of expression one would wear when something dearly missed had grown greatly.

“I’m proud of you, Louis.”

Ordinarily, one should not do such things to a duke, but Pontina Derik was a man with something like a wild, unbound nature that transcended such norms. He was an eccentric who would sometimes return to the family and work diligently, then suddenly declare he wanted to learn more about the world and set off to wander abroad.

And every time he returned, he brought Louis unusual gifts, rare books, and all kinds of entertaining stories. Louis briefly embraced Derik, seeing him for the first time in years.

“Has it been five years?”

“Yes, five years.”

“You’ve grown old.”

“Haha. Since you’ve grown into a lion, it’s only natural that I’ve aged—and that’s something to be glad about.”

“When did you arrive?”

“I heard you trampled that old snake into the ground, so I ran here like mad from that moment.”

“Yes. I burned their house. So they will never again look down on House Pontina.”

“As expected.”

“In any case, Uncle, let’s catch up later. I have something I must say to these people.”

As Pontina Derik turned aside, Louis glared at the nobles—his face suddenly cold again, as if he had never smiled. Hardly any of them could meet his eyes properly, and they were too busy lowering their heads.

“There is one thing I did consistently as I crushed House Haidek and came here.”

Silence. A long silence—and the one who broke it was Louis.

“I—no, House Pontina—must repay what is done to us. Think of what you did in the past. I have no intention of letting it pass softly. To let it pass softly would be an insult to House Pontina.”

Louis spoke as if he wanted someone to hear it. At the sound, his stepmother Crinoli flinched and trembled.

“I offer you one condition. Show your ability. If you cannot, I will repay you—with interest. Those who delude themselves into thinking they can behave carelessly as their houses always have and still survive here—I will make an example of how they fall.”

When Louis finished, the nobles swallowed. They already knew it was no joke. With rumors reinforced by the latest information, Louis’s path was uniquely dominant. It was no secret—an open fact—that as soon as the funeral ended, Louis would be invited to the Prince-King’s grand party to formally receive his succession. With even the Prince-King’s cooperation at his back, Louis might be “only” a duke in name, but the fact that he had ravaged a peer house—House Haidek—and burned their banner was, even in the long history of Pontina, a bold advance comparable to the founding Duke Pontina Valpur.