Clang! The sound of swords clashing echoed as sparks flew from the collision. Ghislain grinned, looking at Arel. "Let’s go again." "Understood." Despite the overwhelming busyness of his domain, Ghislain never neglected Arel’s training. Arel had grown into a striking young man, one who could make any woman’s heart flutter. But it wasn’t his appearance that made him renowned—it was his skill. Arel had endured hellish training and grown faster than anyone expected. His determination was so intense that even the mercenary-turned-knights who had followed Ghislain since the beginning shook their heads in awe. But Ghislain didn’t just push Arel to focus on raw combat. He ensured Arel was educated in military strategy and other scholarly pursuits by bringing in academics from across the domain. For an ordinary person, such a schedule would have been impossible to sustain. But Arel faced it all with diligence and without complaint. "He’s a beast." "Lord Ghislain really picked up someone extraordinary." "But why push him so hard?" People often whispered whenever they saw Arel. His incredible abilities were evident, but many were curious about Ghislain’s motives for training him in both martial and academic disciplines. Ghislain, of course, was well aware of their murmurs. "They don’t know yet. They don’t know what this kid was in the past." Arel Highdune, the Baron of the North—a man whose names carried many titles: The Commander of the Northern Fortress, Kaipillar.The Tragic Genius.The Barbarian Slayer.The Terror of the North.The Kingdom’s Saint.After being scouted by Harold Desmond, who later became a duke, Arel’s talent and effort were recognized, leading to his meteoric rise through the ranks. He eventually took on the task of guarding the northern fortress, replacing the fallen Ferdium. Even in the Beast Forest Chronicles, Arel’s name appeared repeatedly. When the Grex creatures spilled out of the Beast Forest and devastated the north, it was Arel who led his troops to confront them. "He was quite famous back then." Driven by revenge and fueled by his innate talent, Arel protected the northern territories admirably, crushing the barbarians in the process. The mere mention of his name caused the barbarians to grind their teeth in hatred. Of course, unlike the previous Ferdium, Arel had the kingdom’s full support, which made his successes possible. "I never saw him in my past life, though." Before the Yearlong War, when the kingdom had sought to negotiate with the barbarians to develop the Beast Forest, Arel had fiercely opposed the idea. But he couldn’t defy the tide of politics. Even after the negotiations, the barbarians raided small villages for sport, and the kingdom turned a blind eye. Arel, however, refused to let it slide. Enraged, he led his forces to annihilate the offending tribe. This act reignited tensions between the kingdom and the barbarians, and the kingdom, prioritizing the development of the Beast Forest, accused Arel of insubordination and imprisoned him. Subsequently, the kingdom poured immense resources into the Beast Forest, depleting the northern fortress's forces by more than half. They rationalized this by assuming they could afford a reduced garrison in the north if negotiations with the barbarians went smoothly. "That’s where the records ended." Because of this, Ghislain didn’t know what ultimately became of Arel. But his name had stood out in historical accounts, leading Ghislain to take him in. Ghislain was pleased to see Arel following his guidance so diligently. This encouraged him to teach and support the young man even more fervently. Arel’s driving force was a mix of loyalty to the domain and his burning hatred for the barbarians who had slaughtered his family and razed his village. Clang! Clang! Clang! Under Ghislain’s tutelage, Arel’s swordsmanship was as fierce as one would expect. But mastering Ghislain’s techniques required more than skill—it demanded an emotional depth that transcended the technical. Arel excelled at this, absorbing Ghislain’s teachings faster than anyone else, for he had experienced similar pain. Clang! As their swords clashed again, Ghislain asked a question that had been lingering in his mind. He wondered what the Arel of this life thought, given his past opposition to negotiating with the barbarians. "Do you still harbor resentment?" "Yes." "Then why haven’t you suggested striking the barbarians?" "...Because we have an agreement with them." Ghislain smirked. "We only ended things back then to minimize losses and secure what we wanted. But if you wish, we can always strike them again. I’m not so poor a teacher that I can’t grant my one and only pupil’s wish." Arel responded without hesitation. "Revenge is important, but the domain and its people matter more." "You’re worried about causing trouble for the domain?" "No. It’s because the domain and its people are more precious to me than my revenge. Protecting them is my life’s purpose." Arel’s unwavering answer brought a smile to Ghislain’s face. Arel had changed from his past life. He now prioritized safeguarding what was valuable over pursuing vengeance. If a legendary hero were to exist, they would surely be someone like the Arel of today. He placed the greater good above personal grievances, understood justice, and bore his pain for the sake of others. Arel shared similarities with Ghislain, but in many ways, he was entirely different. "To grow this upright in a place like this..." Ghislain couldn’t help but marvel. The Fenris domain was hardly a virtuous environment. Arel was surrounded by bad influences—Claude, Alfoy, Kaor, Ascon, Cain, Gordon, Lucas, and countless others who could have led him astray. Yet Arel resisted every temptation and remained steadfast in his path. He had grown up far too upright—almost unnervingly so. Ghislain chuckled as he sheathed his sword. "That’s enough for today. If you want to train alone, do so for a bit longer before heading to your evening class." "Understood." "And be prepared—we’ll be fighting the barbarians again soon." Arel’s eyes widened. At present, Fenris, Ferdium, and the barbarians were bound by agreements involving food and horses. Fighting them would mean breaking those agreements. "Do you mean..." Given the current unrest in the kingdom—no, the entire continent—focusing resources on the barbarians seemed risky. Ghislain offered a bitter smile. "Even if we don’t attack, they’ll make their move. It’s only a matter of time." "Truly?" "Yes. Woroca is an immensely greedy man. If a civil war breaks out, he’ll certainly act. He might even move before then. He knows that if things continue as they are, he’ll be stuck begging for food forever." In the past, even during Ghislain’s invasion of the kingdom, Woroca had seized any opportunity to claim territory. This time, with the involvement of the Four Major Orders and the Salvation Church, the civil war would be even more chaotic. The kingdom would descend into disarray, and Woroca would undoubtedly exploit the chaos. Preparations had to begin now. While Ghislain couldn’t predict the exact form Woroca’s attack would take, he was certain it would come. "Until then, wait. I’ll make sure you play a leading role in that war." "Understood!" Arel responded with determination. His desire to participate in the war wasn’t born from ambition but from his need for revenge and his duty to protect the domain. Even after Ghislain left, Arel continued to train tirelessly, driven by his unshakable resolve. On his way to class, Arel encountered Alfoy, who had managed to sneak out once again. "Hey, Arel! Don’t just pass by today. Let’s have a quick game of odds and evens. I’ll go easy on you at first." In front of Alfoy sat Piote, sniffling—clearly, he had lost money to him again. Arel bowed politely to Alfoy. "I have a military strategy class to attend." "Come on, just a few rounds. Odds and evens are quick. Why are you always so uptight?" "I apologize, but I must decline." "You looking down on me?" "Not at all." "Then what? You think you’re above all this because you’re the lord’s pupil?" "..." "Are you trying to insult me? Want me to teach you a lesson with a fifth-circle spell?" "..." "You’re not leaving without a game today. You must have plenty saved up, right? Our priest here says he’s broke now." "I’m sorry." "Hey! I’m talking to you—" Clang! Alfoy was about to lose his temper when a sharp voice cut through the air behind him. "Alfoy! You said you were taking a break, but here you are again?!" A flash of light flickered, and Vanessa appeared before him. "Ah, n-no, it’s not like that..." "Why are you bothering someone on their way to study? You should be more like Arel and work hard! And when did you drag Piote into this again?!" Alfoy stammered as he tried to explain himself. "Well, you see... I just happened to run into Piote, and then I just bumped into Arel too... He’s just so boring, you know? I mean, he doesn’t even have any friends! It reminds me of how you used to be, and it just... broke my heart..." While Alfoy floundered, Arel bowed respectfully to Vanessa, his gesture filled with deference for the domain’s top mage and one of its hardest-working individuals. Vanessa returned the bow with equal politeness. Both were models of decorum. "Arel, please don’t mind him and head to your class. And Piote, you should get going as well." "Yes, thank you, Vanessa." With Vanessa’s intervention, Alfoy was dragged away, leaving Arel and Piote free to go on their way. As Arel continued toward the classroom, he encountered Kaor and a group of knights heading to grab a drink after their training session. "Hey, Arel. Done with your training? We just finished up too. How about joining us for a drink?" "No, thank you, Kaor." "Come on, are you going to turn us down every single time? You’re old enough to drink now! Be a man, let loose a little! Live a little!" "I’m fine, really." "What, you think being a knight means you can’t have fun anymore?" "..." "That’s it. I’ve had enough. Tonight, I’m going to make you a proper man. No excuses! The lord is out on inspection, so the timing is perfect. You’re coming with us." The knights roared with laughter, cheering Kaor on. "Of course! If the squad captain says we go, we go!" "The lord’s apprentice can’t miss a knightly bonding session!" "Let’s drink till morning!" Kaor was one of the most influential figures in the domain, and few could challenge him. Arel sensed he wouldn’t escape easily this time. Just as Kaor was about to drag him off, Gillian appeared, fresh from finishing his own military training. Kaor turned his head sharply, grumbling under his breath. "Damn it. Why’d the old man have to finish now?" Gillian took one look at the situation and gestured for Arel to leave. Arel bowed quickly and darted away while Kaor and the knights clicked their tongues in disappointment. Even after that, Arel faced constant challenges during his movements across the domain. Many attempted to lure him into compromising situations, seemingly unable to tolerate his upright behavior. The sheer number of troublemakers who tried to corrupt him was astounding. One of the most persistent was Cain, the lord’s cousin. Using his connection to Ghislain, Cain hounded Arel incessantly, only to be thwarted by Belinda’s timely interventions. Even Claude failed to rope Arel into his schemes. "Hey, Arel, let’s make a deal—Ow! Stop shoving me! I told you my legs hurt!" Before Claude could pull anything, Wendy would forcefully eject him from the scene. Without the timely help of his superiors, Arel might have been dragged into their antics long ago. "Phew, I made it to class unscathed." Training in swordsmanship and studying military strategy weren’t the only trials Arel faced. Every day, he underwent constant mental endurance tests as well. This rigorous routine only strengthened his patience and resolve over time. The scholars who taught Arel adored him. He was quick to understand their lessons, diligent, and always respectful—a joy to teach. That day, like every other, Arel devoted himself fully to his studies. But that night, unlike usual, he found it hard to sleep. "We’re going to fight the barbarians again..." He had always known this day would come, though he hadn’t expected it to arrive so soon. He had to grow stronger, faster. Only then could he avenge his family and the people of his village. And beyond revenge, he vowed to bring lasting peace to the northern territories, ensuring that its people would never again fear the barbarians' raids. "I must..." He clenched his fists under the moonlight. "I will ensure that no one else suffers as I did." The following day, Ghislain returned from his domain inspections and received an unexpected report from Lowell. "Bandits? All of a sudden?" "Yes, my lord." Ghislain tilted his head, puzzled. With the kingdom in turmoil, it wasn’t surprising for bandits to emerge. Many lords had redeployed their forces to strategic locations, leaving villages and towns vulnerable. However, the areas where these bandits were reported were unusual—particularly along the northern and western borders. Lowell pointed to several locations on a map as he continued. "With Marquis Rodrick gone, the west is still unstable, so bandits cropping up isn’t surprising. But their presence near our territory is suspicious." The bandits of the west feared the name Fenris. Ever since Marquis Rodrick’s defeat, many had surrendered outright. The Fenris army’s mobility was well-known across the kingdom by now. Any bandit foolish enough to appear near Fenris territory would be eradicated in an instant. For bandits to show up near Fenris was practically begging for death. Ghislain’s eyes narrowed as he pondered. "Could this be a diversion?" "I believe it’s highly likely," Lowell agreed. "The only groups that would benefit from distracting us are the Ducal House and the Salvation Church." "Which means..." "It’s likely they’re trying to hide something. And that something might very well be one of the 'Rifts' we’ve missed." Lowell’s grin mirrored Ghislain’s as he leaned over the map. "Do we have any likely locations?" Lowell pointed to a specific spot on the map. "If I had to choose, it would be the barony of Finros. There’s also a small town along this route." Ghislain stood immediately. "I need to visit the west anyway. Perfect. It’s not far—let’s stop by and check on it. Prepare to move out immediately." "What shall we prepare?" "We’ll move quickly—just 200 knights will do." "Understood." "And the 'medicine'? Is it being delivered?" "Yes, as soon as it’s produced, it’s sent to the Royalist faction and Ferdium. We’ve shared the formula and requested additional production. Marquis Branford is handling distribution to other kingdoms." "Good. We don’t have much time left." Ghislain turned to the darkened window, watching as several shooting stars streaked across the distant sky.