The girl returned with Ghislain to her home, where her mother still lay, struggling to breathe. Without hesitation, Ghislain administered the medicine to the girl's mother. Even in its diluted state, the medicine—capable of curing the so-called Eternal Punishment disease in a single day—was potent enough to combat the weakened, though more infectious, version of the illness now spreading across the land. Within minutes, the mother's complexion improved, and the red spots on her skin began to fade. “Mom...” The girl clutched her mother’s hand, tears welling up in her eyes. Relief washed over her as it became clear her mother had passed the critical stage of the illness. Her mother opened her eyes slowly, her voice weak but steady. “What... What happened...?” “Mom? Are you okay?” “Yes... I feel so much better now.” “It was the nobleman. He came and saved us!” “A nobleman...?” “Yes! He said he’s from the north, the lord of Fenris! He’s a count!” “Fenris...?” The mother’s eyes widened. She had heard rumors about Fenris. Among the nobility, stories about Ghislain painted him as a devil incarnate, but among common folk, the tales were entirely different. It was said that no one in Fenris starved or suffered unjust treatment. To peasants, it sounded like a paradise, though few could confirm it due to restrictions on travel. She had often wondered if the rumors were true and dreamed of visiting Fenris. But for its lord to come here and personally save the townspeople—it was beyond anything she could have imagined. Her eyes turned to Ghislain, who stood silently nearby. She tried to rise and bow in gratitude, but Ghislain waved her off. “No need for formalities.” “But... my lord...” “Focus on your recovery,” Ghislain said, dismissing the notion of decorum. Turning to Gillian, he issued orders. “Gillian, ensure every household receives food. Have our soldiers prepare meals directly for the people. Recovery is our top priority right now.” “Understood.” “Also, start cleaning the town and repairing it. If we leave it like this, other diseases will spread.” “Right away.” Advertisements Gillian and the soldiers moved quickly to execute Ghislain’s commands. Before leaving, Ghislain rested his hand on the girl’s shoulder, meeting her gaze. “Take care of your mother. I must go and help others now.” “Thank you. Thank you so much,” the girl stammered, bowing repeatedly. She tried to prostrate herself in gratitude, but Ghislain waved her off, chuckling at her persistence. “It’s nothing more than my duty,” he replied. With a gentle smile, he added, “Keep the cloak; consider it a gift.” The girl clutched the red cloak around her tightly, its warmth a comforting reminder of her savior. As Ghislain turned to leave, the girl called out to him. “One day, I will repay this kindness!” “Very well. I’ll hold you to that,” he said with a grin before disappearing into the town. To the girl, and many others, Ghislain was nothing less than a savior. The town was not the only place Ghislain had come to save. Clatter, clatter, clatter. Endless wagons filled with supplies rolled into the town. Behind them, ranks of soldiers marched in, their presence bringing order to the chaos. The northern army, under Ghislain’s command, swiftly set to work. Soldiers scoured every alley and home, searching for survivors. “Move quickly!” “We’ve got a live one here!” “Bring blankets and clean water!” Though the disease had claimed some, most of the townspeople were still alive, albeit weakened. The soldiers administered medicine and prepared meals for the sick. They cleaned the streets, disposed of corpses, and repaired homes. Ten thousand soldiers descended upon the town, and their efforts quickly turned the tide of despair. At first, the people thought their own lord had sent aid. But they soon realized that was not the case. “It’s Count Fenris...” “The northern army has come to save us...” “He really came...” The townspeople were overwhelmed with gratitude. Their own lords had abandoned them, yet a nobleman from the distant north had come to their rescue. In their hearts, Ghislain’s name was etched in gold. As the soldiers restored order and saved lives, Ghislain gathered his aides to plan the next steps. Unfurling a map, he pointed out key locations. “This was just the closest town. We’ll establish it as a central hub for fighting the plague and move out from here.” Turning to Dark, he said, “Contact Claude and request additional administrators. Too many towns have been abandoned, and we’ll need more people to oversee them. Also, tell him to send more supplies and medicine here.” Dark transformed into a raven and flew off, leaving Ghislain to outline further plans. “These are the most urgent areas,” he said, marking the map. “We’ll divide the forces to deliver medicine and food as quickly as possible. Assignments will be distributed shortly.” The marked areas were places where the plague had spread unchecked due to negligent lords. Speed was critical to prevent further devastation. After explaining the plan, Ghislain looked at Gillian, who asked hesitantly, “What about the Rift?” A nearby Rift was expanding, and the local forces were struggling to contain it. They had even requested reinforcements from the northern army. “We’ll use cavalry to expedite the transport of medicine,” Ghislain replied. “While the Fenris forces handle distribution, the rest of the northern army will hold the line against the Rift’s forces.” “Who will command the defense?” Ghislain turned to Tenant. “Tenant, you’ll lead the northern army and establish a defensive line. Can you handle it?” The room fell silent. Tenant, a recent addition to Ghislain’s forces—and a former enemy—was an unexpected choice. Even Tenant seemed taken aback. “You trust me with this? I could easily betray you...” Ghislain smirked. “And you think the northern army would follow you if you tried?” Tenant had no response. It was true—the northern army’s loyalty to Ghislain was unshakable. Realizing there was no point in arguing, Tenant sighed and nodded. “Understood. I’ll establish the line.” “Good. Just hold them off; reinforcements will arrive soon enough.” Tenant left with the bulk of the northern army to confront the Rift, while Ghislain turned to Kaor and Alfoy. “Kaor, Alfoy,” he said, handing them a list. “These lords are hoarding medicine and ingredients. Go and retrieve them, by any means necessary. Think you can manage that?” “Ha, that’s exactly the kind of job for me. Don’t worry, I’ll squeeze every last drop out of them,” Kaor said, a twisted grin on his face. “Can I just take one of the lands and become a lord myself? I’ve always wanted to be a count,” Alfoy chimed in with a laugh. The two of them were the least suited for any kind of noble rescue work, but for wringing resources out of greedy lords, they were perfect. As the rest of Ghislain’s commanders dispersed, the operations to distribute supplies and quell the plague began. “Get those balloons up, now!” Hundreds of hot air balloons carrying soldiers and mages rose into the sky. Ghislain had decided to implement a tactic from his past life: using air transport to reach the most remote and inaccessible areas quickly. While cavalry could efficiently deliver supplies to regions connected by roads, the rugged or roadless areas required a different solution. The hot air balloons couldn’t carry as much cargo, but they were perfect for reaching isolated places where aid was most desperately needed. Clatter, clatter, clatter! Meanwhile, the Fenris cavalry moved out, hauling wagons filled with medicine and food to every corner of the kingdom. Ghislain mounted his black warhorse, Noir, and addressed Gillian. “Hold the position here. Claude will send more medicine and supplies to this hub.” Despite delegating most tasks, Ghislain decided to personally oversee the delivery of aid to several smaller villages. Splitting his forces into smaller groups to act independently would only waste time and resources. “Do you really need to go in person, my lord?” Gillian asked. “It’s the fastest and most effective way.” “Understood,” Gillian replied with a resigned sigh. To everyone’s surprise, Ghislain chose to bring only a few knights and a small contingent of soldiers with him. “Come on, Noir, let’s go!” he commanded. Whinny! Noir reared back, then bolted forward, leading the charge. Behind Ghislain, over a hundred supply wagons began moving as if by magic. Clatter, clatter, clatter! The wagons were tethered to Ghislain with invisible threads of mana, each one perfectly balanced and moving as though they had minds of their own. The sight left onlookers speechless. Kaor, watching in awe, muttered to himself, “Wow... He really is a monster. How the hell do you beat someone like that?” Kaor had grown significantly stronger since their first meeting, perhaps even surpassing Ghislain’s past self. Yet the gap between them only seemed to widen as Ghislain continued to grow at an inhuman pace. “Ugh... First, I’ll deal with the old man, then think about the rest,” Kaor grumbled, his thoughts drifting to Gillian, who had also grown stronger recently. Adding to Kaor’s frustration was the arrival of Tenant, a new ally who had already reached the rank of Master. “I don’t like him,” Kaor muttered under his breath. Tenant’s reputation as the Western Swordmaster and his noble lineage grated on Kaor’s nerves. Kaor had never been good at accepting his inferiority. Advertisements “Gillian, Alfoy, Vanessa—they’re all so far ahead... And now there’s a seventh-circle mage on top of everything,” Kaor muttered bitterly. Every time he felt like he was catching up, the others seemed to move even farther ahead. Recently, he had been overshadowed again, and it irked him deeply. “Well, I’ll show them all,” Kaor vowed, his determination burning despite his tendency to complain. He led his strike force out, eager to vent his frustrations on the lords who refused to surrender their resources. Meanwhile, Alfoy, though impressed by Ghislain’s abilities, wasn’t nearly as fixated on the competition. “Well, I’m a mage,” he mused. “When I become the Archmage, I’ll surpass even him. Maybe I’ll even take over a territory and become a count myself.” Alfoy’s ambitions were bold, though they were somewhat dulled by the pragmatic harshness of Fenris life. As a former heir to the Mage Tower, his brilliance had been overshadowed by the brutal realities of his new environment. Leading a small group of mages and knights, Alfoy moved out with a gleam in his eye, eager to assert his dominance over any reluctant lords. As Fenris forces fanned out across the kingdom, the people in remote areas began to see a glimmer of hope. “Thank you, my lord! Truly, thank you!” “Our family owes you our lives!” “We’ll never forget this kindness!” The villages and towns Ghislain focused on were those most neglected by their lords. Whether due to greed or incompetence, these places had been left to fend for themselves in the face of the plague. The loyalty these people once held for their lords was gone, replaced by admiration and gratitude for Ghislain. “May the blessings of the goddess be upon Count Fenris!” “The northern count is the true savior of the people!” “He’s not just a count—he’s a hero!” Rumors of Ghislain’s deeds spread rapidly, painting him as the savior who would end the war and the plague. Some even speculated that he had been chosen by the goddess herself, referencing the time when Ghislain was falsely hailed as a saint in the capital—a ruse he and Porisco had orchestrated. “Savior, huh?” Ghislain murmured, smirking at the irony. The word reminded him too much of the Redemptionists, a cult-like group he despised. Still, there was no stopping the people from calling him whatever they liked. He turned his gaze toward the Shadow Mountains, where the kingdom of Turian waged a desperate war against hordes of monsters. Savior. It wasn’t a title that belonged to him. In his past life, there had been another—a true savior who had earned that name. “It’s about time he emerged,” Ghislain thought, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. In his previous life, that man had been one of the Seven Titans, a warrior of unparalleled strength. The real savior was coming.