Chapter 54

The colossal castle, boasting a size of 120 square kilometers, had gates so large that even dragons could pass through them without difficulty. At these gates, the military carriage came to a halt.

Lir and Alter stepped out of the carriage first and asked if they could enter their quarters to clean up a bit.

In the case of Lir, the elf, his hair wasn’t disheveled, and he didn’t have much of a sweat smell either. However, Alter, an aged human who had spent most of his time exposed to the scorching sun keeping watch, reeked from head to toe.

“Of course. Please, go ahead and rest. I can deliver the report on my own anyway.”

After sending Alter and Lir off to their quarters, I asked the guards at the gate to summon the leaders of each race.

The leaders quickly gathered in the conference room. The operation to retake the Achilipthus Forest and establish a forward base was a critical operation that significantly swayed the outcome of the war between the continent’s people and the marauders. That’s why the three kings and one emperor had each abandoned their duties and rushed here.

……Honestly, this is still a bit overwhelming. But there’s nothing to do except get used to it.

“Oh! You have returned, my friend!”

The king of the dwarves grinned widely, holding a glass of wine in one hand. His forehead was drenched in sweat, and his thick fingertips were covered in iron powder.

Moreover, he wasn’t wearing his usual extravagant clothing but was instead clad in a thick, sturdy work uniform. At his waist hung various-sized hammers for different purposes, and his gloves were marked with metal filings.

It was clear that he had come straight from some kind of work.

“……I knew you were busy, but it would be good if you could at least maintain decorum in such formal situations.”

The elven queen, with deep dark circles under her eyes, scolded the disheveled king of the dwarves.

“Who has the time to obsess over appearances when soldiers are dying on the battlefield? In that time, I should polish at least one more sword.”

“……Even a leader of a race should know enough to dress appropriately for their position and the situation.”

“I am well aware that we are in a war.”

“It would also be nice if you could recognize the formal setting of meetings. Aren’t you representing the face of all dwarves?”

“…….”

“…….”

Normally, arguments between the elven queen and the dwarf king would have continued for at least ten minutes. However, I had heard they were very busy recently. Apparently, due to consecutive all-nighters, neither of them had the mental or physical energy for long arguments, so the tension settled with them covering their eyes and sighing.

“……Well, General Bin. It seems everyone is ready to hear the story. Please give us a report on the operation status at the Achilipthus Forest.”

The emperor, whose quarrel between the two leaders had surprisingly ended quickly, cleared his throat and then spoke to me.

His voice carried with it a faint metallic tone. It was clear that he, too, hadn’t slept much.

Somehow, the overall atmosphere inside the castle was rather disheartened.

“……Erm, understood. I will begin my report on the operation to retake the Achilipthus Forest and establish the forward base.”

I told them everything that had happened in the forest without leaving out a single detail.

From driving away the marauders to the smooth progress of building the base, and encountering a spirit who granted us its blessing in exchange for cleaning up various spots within the forest…

“……And what exactly did you receive in exchange?”

The orc grand chieftain interrupted my tale with a derisive laugh, clearly not believing a word.

“Rex cleared the dungeon and secured an artifact as a reward. For my case, I obtained an artifact in the form of a staff through the spirit of lightning.”

“…….”

A moment of silence fell over the room, but fortunately, it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence.

The leaders of each race clearly had been momentarily speechless out of surprise.

“……Ha! The Sword Saint once bet that within three years, you’d become a monster on par with him. Looks like he wasn’t bluffing.”

The dwarf king, who had appeared in his work clothes with a glass of wine in hand, broke the silence with a laugh.

“He’s only been in the party for about two months. If this is how fast he grows…”

“You speak of Rex, yes? The son of Belzarck? I heard he was carried back here after being infected by marauder blood. I didn’t expect him to obtain an artifact.”

The leaders of each race surprisingly accepted my report without question.

I thought they’d be surprised and bombard me with a bunch of questions about bringing back two artifacts.

……Do they think that a genius mage, who they’ve been supporting, is naturally expected to achieve this much?

This is a little burdensome in its own way.

“You also mentioned that you obtained an artifact. Do you know anything about its effects? If you need a place to conduct experiments, let me know.”

The elven queen, with a look of disbelief, observed me with her gaze before quickly regaining her composure and asked.

“Ah, concerning my artifact’s efficacy? I have a rough idea. Thank you for the concern.”

“Is it useful? I understand that artifacts don’t always carry only positive influences.”

Having lived a long life, the elven queen seemed somewhat aware of the characteristics of artifacts.

“Uh, it’s a bit ambiguous…”

“Ambiguous? Have you not yet tested it?”

“No, that’s not it…”

“Why are you beating around the bush? Just show me.”

A strand of excessively warm lightning faintly sparkled out of my right hand.

The leaders of the various races contorted their expressions at the unfamiliar voice that suddenly appeared in the conference room and promptly entered a defensive stance.

“……Are you serious?”

I sighed, covering my face, unable to prevent this crazy deer.

The warm lightning emerging from my right hand quickly coalesced not far from the table, forming the silhouette of a giant deer.

“Nice to meet you. My name is Daljin. I am the spirit of lightning mentioned earlier.”

Watching Daljin looking down arrogantly at each leader of the various races, I shook my head with a sigh.

“……Please, just have some tact.”

My heart sincerely wished the life of the deer in the conference room would end immediately.

As if dancing a breakdance in front of the presidents of the United States, China, Russia, and France during a report on rising sea levels without any music, how does that feel?

That’s what this is like.

“……This is…”

“I’ve seen a spirit of fire, but this is the first time for one of lightning.”

“How magnificent.”

“Relying on the power of a spirit?”

The leaders of the various races seemed to have immediately figured out what Daljin was.

Those with some scholarly knowledge, whether or not they were mages, generally knew of the five fundamental spirits that formed the foundation of magic.

I explained to the emperor and kings about the power the staff holds and the ‘price’ that came with it.

Their initial expressions when they heard that access to Daljin, a transcendental entity, was available were dumbfounded. However, their expressions turned to disappointment as they listened to the subsequent explanation that its practical power diminishes the further it moves away from the forest, effectively equivalent to an 8th Tier.

……I already thought I had a nuclear bomb in my hand and was thrilled, only to end up with the same expression when I discovered the truth.

They all react the same way.

“Dwarves are all just too adorable. You claim to be a king? Where is your crown? And why do you look like this? Covered in dirt, as if you’ve rolled in muddy water!”

“Hah, you caught me after work. If you saw me in my elegant formal attire, Spirit, I suspect even you would faint!”

The king of the dwarves laughed off the rude words of Daljin, who was showing interest in him.

“……Anyway, with this, I shall conclude my report.”

To quickly wrap things up and deal with this annoyance, I hurriedly concluded my report and got up.

“No, stay seated for a moment.”

Just as I was about to stand, the emperor who had been silently observing me for some time spoke.

“Ah, yes…”

Carefully putting my half-lifted buttocks back in place, I nervously replied.

“……Emperor, although the current situation in Valleland is poor, this still seems too premature.”

“Do you think he needs more time to grow? If this kid were to be lost…”

Both the grand chieftain and the queen who had interjected from the sides seemed to understand why the emperor had stopped me from leaving.

“I am aware. This has been a carefully considered and deliberate decision. I ask for your trust and cooperation.”

Despite the negative reactions from the two leaders, the emperor’s eyes were filled with great confidence.

“……Well, if you insist so strongly, I have no complaints.”

The elven queen, hearing the emperor’s firm tone, took a step back after a moment’s thought.

What is going on here? Why does everyone look so serious?

“The situation in Valleland is not good. The operation to hunt Maltiel has made almost no progress in nearly a month, and meaningless local skirmishes and attrition battles continue.”

The emperor’s usual gentle and warm tone was absent, replaced by a robust and dignified voice.

……This does not feel good.

“Initially, General Bin, I planned for you to officially join the party’s main members after completing all of Alter’s training. However, given your incredible growth along with your ability to manipulate spirits freely, I bestow upon you this task…”

Uh.

“You, shall proceed to Valleland after completing your preparations and join the party of Sword Saints. Your mission is to end the stagnant local skirmishes and behead Grand Marshal Maltiel.”

“…….”

Huh?

“Erm… uh… Yes?”

In my confusion, I almost contested the emperor’s orders. Did I already contest them? I’m not quite sure.

Anyway, does it even matter now? Of course, it’s an important matter, but this situation now seems more pressing…

“You have immense strategic value. Haven’t you been favored by the spirits?”

The elven queen, who stared at me pitifully in my confusion, offered some half-hearted words of comfort.

“……Yes?”

Am I really being consoled by the elven queen of all people?

What mission did I just receive?

“I think it should be reconsidered… you’re still green. Valleland is a dangerous place. Even seasoned fighters who excel in battle survive day to day…”

The grand chieftain whispered these words into the emperor’s ear so I wouldn’t hear. However, thanks to the orc’s naturally large chest and vocal cords, his voice reached my ears sharply despite his efforts to be quiet.

“Don’t worry about such concerns. I’ll ensure this body survives, won’t I?”

Daljin, who was caressing the dwarf king with warm lightning, suddenly interjected, responding to the worried whisper of the grand chieftain.

“……Seriously?”

I gave Daljin a suspicious look.

He gave a mischievous smile and nodded.

Does this kid really mean it or not?

“Oh! Is that true…?”

The dwarf king looked up at Daljin, who was caressing his head, and asked loudly.

Daljin, with that same malicious smile, whispered ‘Of course’ to his… pet… or rather, the dwarf king.

It looks like a lie to anyone who observes it. This kid just wants to toss me into battle for fun, doesn’t he?

“You will have about a week for preparations.”

……Eh?

“Select a few capable subordinates to accompany you. A mage requires reliable infantry to depend on.”

In this wartime situation, there was no right to say ‘no’ to that order.

……Should I run away right now?

*

The sky is pitch black. The groans never cease from the surrounding area. A nose accustomed to the smell of blood no longer registers it, yet the occasional cries of agony ensure that sleep is impossible.

The magician with jet-black hair, clad in a wine-colored robe smudged with mud and blood, holding a muddy grimoire and trembling fingers, keeps brushing the hair falling over his face as he tries to steady his harsh breathing.

He sat inside the makeshift tent, but through the torn canvas, he could see the ever-moving clouds.

Watching the dark and ominous clouds that promised an impending downpour gave him an overwhelming sense of oppression somewhere within his chest.

“…Lord Bel, the emperor has sent a letter.”

Bel.

The name of this magician with jet-black hair was Bel.

A mid-30s mage belonging to the Sword Saint party and the highest tier mage at the 9th Tier responsible for the prosperity and future of the flames school.

“Leave it there.”

Bel picked up the letter trembling from the broken desk with trembling hands. Without a knife to properly cut the seal, he could only rip the stubborn envelope with his shaky hands.

Quietly, Bel read the contents of the letter with his eyes, then approached the paladin lying on the tent bed, staring blankly at the ceiling with a vacant expression.

“Read it.”

The paladin, without responding, began to read the letter given to her by Bel with an impassive face.

“…A rookie is being deployed here.”

The paladin sighed deeply without making any other comment.

“How old is that punk?”

Bel Artur glanced at his subordinate waiting at the entrance and asked.

“About sixteen or seventeen, I hear. The exact age is hard to ascertain due to his background.”

“Hah, at most seventeen. He must have never set foot on any proper battlefield.”

“…That’s probably so.”

The paladin, keeping her eyes closed, silently agreed with Bel’s statement as she folded the letter.

“…”

The magician with black hair, Bel, looked up at the uneven tent ceiling silently, then seemed uneasy as he pulled out a pipe from his robe.

Opening the disheveled tent blanket, he stepped outside and flicked his finger. The tobacco leaves gathered at the end of the pipe caught fire, and thick smoke enveloped Bel’s face.

“It seems too early at that age.”

Before Bel’s eyes was a battlefield that could be described as a grotesque hell.

The mud was so soaked with blood that it appeared completely red. From nearby medical tents came cries of numerous injured soldiers, and occasionally severed arms and legs were thrown out.

Farther away, piles of corpses lay heaped in a corner far from the tents. Occasionally crows or rats would scamper through the corpses and toy with them, but no one was strong enough to chase them away.

In a more distant area, countless soldiers and mages, looking utterly exhausted, sat silently staring at the sky.

There was no trace of hope for life in their eyes. Occasionally, soldiers who could no longer endure would start shouting and swing their swords at their comrades.

……Beyond the soldiers in the trenches blankly staring at the sky lay numerous mutated marauder corpses.

The mud there was not dark red but instead a sickly green.

Neither Bel nor Sword Saint could yet agree on what name should be given to the green blobs clumped on the mud – a mass of meat that was too stiff to call flesh, didn’t flow to be called blood, and occasionally twitched, unsuitable to be called corpses.

“…Shameful.”

After deeply inhaling the pipe’s tobacco smoke, Bel softly lamented his pitiful situation.

The sky remained pitch black, and his nose could detect no foul odors.