Chapter 27

The unusually harsh winter, with its endless snowfalls, had finally passed. Spring arrived across the continent, carrying fresh green sprouts in its wake.

Though it came at different times depending on the region, one thing remained the same: spring always returned. The once-white fields of snow had already melted away, and in their place sprouted new buds, brimming with the energy of life.

A fragrant scent of grass brushed against the tip of my nose. Around me, fresh leaves gleamed under the sunlight, while rays pierced through the canopy, weaving together with shadow to form a scene of harmony and beauty.

In the meadows where the grass had grown tall, children laughed as they ran, their bright voices filling the air. Couples strolled by, smiling as they watched.

Spring was the season of blessings—a symbol of life itself.

Amid such blessings, the Crimson Empire quietly celebrated a triumph in secret. After years of hidden research, they had perfected a new mana accumulation method.

Only one step remained: the final experiment. Until then, it had existed only in theory, never tested by human hands.

“Now then. Remember what you’ve just read—and try to gather mana.”

The old mage addressed the four knights seated before him.

“Yes, understood.”

If this last test succeeded, it would bring enormous benefits to the Empire. The newly developed method was said to be an upgrade, one step beyond the mana accumulation techniques already spread across the continent.

Unlike traditional internal martial arts, it did not require circulating mana through meridians and acupoints. Instead, it followed the same principle as mages: storing mana directly within the body. The only difference was location—whereas mages gathered mana near the heart, this method stored it in the lower dantian.

Because of that, it was considered more difficult than the well-known martial methods of cultivation.

Time passed.

Then, in one of the knights—a man who had once been a commoner but had risen to the rank of Paladin through sheer willpower—his body began to change.

At first his face turned pale, but then it flushed scarlet, burning as if consumed by fire. The cycle repeated dozens of times until at last a scream tore from his throat.

“Graaahhh!”

His eyes snapped open wide, blood pouring from all seven orifices of his face—eyes, ears, nostrils, and mouth.

“Wh-what’s happening?!”

“Is this… a side effect?”

“Damn it! I thought we had it this time!”

A day passed since the Empire’s secret experiment ended in failure.

The world, whether it knew of the Empire’s actions or not, flowed on the same as yesterday.

Not long ago, the sun had stood high at noon. Now it hovered low, brushing against the mountain ridges.

In the southwest of the Arkanis Continent lay the Cross Kingdom. South of that, hidden beneath ancient tales and danger, stretched the Forest of Demons.

At the very heart of that forest lay the Sword of Ruin, Pahshaz. None knew of its existence. Sealed long ago by dragons, it had remained hidden for thousands of years.

And now, it rested in the hand of a one-armed man.

Dumaine raised the sword high, focusing the ruinous energy he had grown accustomed to wielding. Black haze began to rise from the blade clutched in his left hand.

It was nothing like sword aura or even sword force. This was entirely different. Around the weapon, the very air shimmered with the breath of death.

The haze thickened, coiling together, clinging to the sword’s surface. At last, when it fully wrapped around the blade, Dumaine let out a sharp cry and swung it downward.

“Hrahh!”

Crackle!

Sparks burst violently where sword and barrier collided.

[Stronger.]

The voice echoed inside his head. Dumaine poured forth all the strength he could muster. The black aura swelled, deepening until it shifted—turning into a gleaming shade of gray.

“Grrk!”

Crackle!

The sword edged downward, little by little. The barrier began to split, thin cracks spreading across its surface. Seeing that, Dumaine poured every ounce of strength he had left into the blade.

The sparks burst outward, fiercer than before, filling the air with a deafening roar. The barrier split wide enough for a small child of four or five to squeeze through.

But the resistance was overwhelming. His strength drained rapidly, and with a violent rebound, the sword was flung back.

That made three times now.

The cracks sealed almost instantly, the barrier restoring itself to its original form.

“Still not enough?”

[You’re not using the power efficiently. And you’re not yet in a state to wield it fully.]

The voice echoed in his head again, flat, without rise or fall.

Dumaine let out a bitter laugh.

“Heh. After all that effort, and it’s still not enough?”

[With a little more practice, you’ll be able to wield it completely. Then that barrier will be nothing more than decoration.]

As he walked, Dumaine asked in a mocking tone,

“A little more? Heh. And when will that be?”

[That depends on the effort of the contractor.]

At that, Dumaine burst into raucous laughter. He strode deeper into the forest, the gray energy still clinging to his sword. After all, the best way to sharpen power was through real battle.

“Ha-ha-ha! Yes, yes, I knew you’d say that. Heh-heh…”

It wasn’t long after he disappeared inside that the screams of monsters spread through the forest.

Spring, once shy in showing its face, had fully arrived a month later. The last traces of snow had vanished completely, leaving the world dressed in green. A refreshing breeze blew from time to time, carrying with it the scent of new life. And on days like this, gentle spring rain fell upon the Crimson Empire.

The rain soaked the earth deeply, and when it cleared, the skies would be brighter than ever.

Perhaps it was a sign.

In the wake of the failed experiment and its deadly side effects, the Empire’s 5th-class and higher mages had labored without rest for a full month. And today, their efforts bore fruit.

At the same site where the last experiment had ended in blood, another was underway. The chamber was large enough to hold twenty men with room to spare, and it was filled with people—among them, none other than the Emperor himself and Pellod, the Empire’s sole 7th-class mage.

For this trial, Pellod had personally invited the Emperor. That was how much confidence he had in the results.

“Now then, recall what you have read—and begin.”

The one who spoke was an old mage with a cracked, unpleasant voice. This was Gario, a 6th-class mage.

Before him sat six knights: three official knights and three Paladins. The choice alone was proof of their confidence.

The knights answered briefly, then closed their eyes.

Time passed without incident. The faces of the mages brightened steadily.

Five more minutes, and then a deep, commanding voice filled the chamber.

“Is it complete?”

It was the Emperor, Kled, who asked.

Beside him, Pellod answered respectfully, though his eyes never left the knights. Even so, no one would dare fault him for it—not even the Emperor.

“Yes, it is finally complete. Ten years of effort have finally borne fruit.”

There was a faint tremor in Pellod’s voice, just enough to betray his joy.

“Oh, you’ve worked hard all this time. Ha-ha.”

The Emperor did not hold back his praise. In truth, he had been waiting just as long—ten years—for this research to bear fruit. With it complete, he could start a war whenever he wished.

“I am grateful, Your Majesty.”

Pellod bowed his head in thanks. The Emperor had already turned his gaze toward him.

“Then, I should be leaving. Will you accompany me?”

It was an invitation to speak privately.

“Of course, Your Majesty. Let us go. The experiment is complete. When the knights awaken, have everything cleaned up and prepared for departure.”

As they walked out together, Pellod gave his orders to the other mages. Perfect. There was nothing to worry about now.

Pellod used the word “perfect” often. Some thought it a mere habit, but he had never once been wrong. And now, as he left with the Emperor, he had said it again.

At that word, the mages froze, hands pausing mid-motion.

In Pellod’s private quarters, five figures gathered.

The Emperor. Pellod himself. And the Empire’s Three Great Knights.

Excluding marquises and dukes, these six were the Empire’s strength itself—its very core.

Around a round table that could seat six, a deep voice filled the chamber.

“How many months will it take?”

Though asked as a question, the Emperor did not lift his eyes from the map spread across the table.

“If we begin training knights with the new mana accumulation method, we’ll need at least six months before it shows results, Your Majesty,”

Pellod replied naturally. His gaze too remained on the map.

The Emperor tapped his finger on the marked Karnian Mountains.

“And what of this? Is there any problem with striking Widav Kingdom from behind, through the mountains?”

Normally, planning war would fall to generals and strategists. But this operation had to remain utterly secret. Their aim was swift: to strike the enemy capital, seize it, and occupy it before word could spread.

To prevent even the slightest leak, only these five had gathered. And with Pellod’s mind for strategy, that was enough. More than enough, in fact, when paired with the Emperor’s own insight and Colin’s experience.

The cause for war was solid. The forces to be deployed were already planned. This was the final check, nothing more.

“When I went last time, we were ambushed by orcs. But on reflection, it seems the dragon of the Karnian Mountains had either left for another place or was simply amusing itself elsewhere, Your Majesty,” said Skoll with confidence.

The attack had seemed strange. If a dragon had commanded the orcs, they would never have fled. To do so would have meant certain death at the dragon’s claws.

And it wouldn’t just be those who ran that died. It would mean the extermination of their entire race.

“What is your opinion, Sir Colin?”

The Emperor turned to Colin, nodding at Skoll’s words. It was thoroughness—leaving nothing unchecked.

“I agree, Your Majesty.”

That was enough. Perfect. The dragon was gone from the mountains. And when a dragon indulged in leisure, it was for no less than a hundred years. The greatest variable had been removed.

In short, there was no one left to stand in their way.

“Then it is decided. Aside from the delay in timing, all else proceeds as planned. The war will begin seven months from now.”

The Emperor rose from his seat, speaking as he left. Pellod immediately stood, bowing deeply until the Emperor was gone from sight.

The Three Great Knights fell into step behind him, guarding their ruler as they departed.

War was decided.

Seven months from now.