While Marquis Branford prepared the kingdom’s army for deployment, Ghislain unfurled a map and began marking the locations of potential Rifts. “We can’t miss this opportunity. We need to move as quickly as possible.” During the calamity era, humanity had to unite and fight as one. It required collective preparation, but convincing others of this inevitability had been impossible. Anyone raising such warnings would have been dismissed as a lunatic. Thus, Ghislain had resolved to prepare on his own, consolidating power and leading the kingdom by sheer force if necessary. “Thanks to Lavier, everything is falling into place.” The prospect of dragging the Crown Prince’s faction into open conflict with the Ducal faction was daunting. It promised to be a grueling task. However, Ghislain’s prior knowledge, his meticulous preparations, and the enemy’s critical mistakes had all aligned perfectly. This time, it felt as though the heavens themselves were lending their aid. “First, I need to secure Rutania.” Though other kingdoms’ Rifts were also important, the Rutania Kingdom was Ghislain’s stronghold. Ensuring its stability was paramount. Convincing other kingdoms would take time, so removing as many Rifts within Rutania as possible was a top priority. Only then could Ghislain prolong his resistance against the enemy forces. “This one is confirmed... That one, too... Was there one here?” Ghislain meticulously marked the Rifts he remembered. He couldn’t recall every single one—especially those that had appeared and disappeared during his novice mercenary days—but his knowledge of key locations was extensive. Interestingly, even the southern regions, controlled by the Ducal faction, had seen a significant number of Rifts. “Destroying those Rifts earned the Salvation Order and the Duke’s faction some goodwill, but the damage they caused was immense. It’s clear they weren’t concerned about collateral damage.” Their motives were inscrutable, their actions incomprehensible to outsiders. Trying to judge them by conventional standards was foolish. Even so, the Ducal faction had managed to protect many of the South’s fortresses and castles. In hindsight, it seemed as though the rest had been willingly sacrificed as part of their schemes. “It all fits together now.” Combining his knowledge from his previous life with the present situation allowed many mysteries to click into place. Ghislain didn’t just map Rutania’s Rifts—he marked key locations across the continent. Though he couldn’t map every Rift, he noted the most infamous sites from the calamity era and those that had persisted into the year-long war. Presenting the Map to Marquis Branford Ghislain handed his annotated map to Marquis Branford. “So there are this many in our kingdom alone?” the Marquis asked, his tone heavy with concern. “Yes, I’m confident in these locations.” “If we investigate these sites and find nothing, it will cast doubt even on the site we’ve already uncovered,” Branford warned. “These locations are highly likely to be accurate. Even if not, the Four Great Churches are already involved. The situation can’t deteriorate further,” Ghislain replied calmly. “That may be true, but...” The Marquis trailed off as he examined the map more closely. His brow furrowed. “There’s not a single Rift in the North?” “That’s correct,” Ghislain confirmed. “Why?” “Because I’m there,” Ghislain said matter-of-factly. “...” Branford sighed deeply. Ghislain’s smug response was infuriatingly difficult to refute. Ghislain feigned ignorance of Branford’s frustration, though he knew full well what the Marquis was thinking. The real reason likely had more to do with the Forest of Beasts, but since the forest fell under his domain, his statement wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Besides, Ghislain himself didn’t fully understand the forest’s mysteries or why the enemy coveted it, so there was no point in revealing this. Despite his unease, Marquis Branford nodded. “Fine. Let’s start with the nearest site.” “It’s another small, remote village. It’s so obscure it doesn’t even appear on most maps.” “Then we’ll take a modest force,” Branford declared. Mobilizing the Army Ghislain’s expression turned incredulous as he beheld the assembled forces. The kingdom’s army of 10,000 soldiers, 100 knights from the Marquis’s household, and an additional 200 knights from the kingdom’s forces were lined up in formation. “This looks more like an all-out territorial war than a reconnaissance mission,” Ghislain quipped. “When a lion moves, its presence must shake the world,” Branford replied with a self-satisfied grin. His demeanor epitomized the power of the kingdom’s greatest noble. The West and South were out of reach for now, so Branford and the kingdom’s forces marched to a village closest to the capital. At first glance, the village appeared peaceful. But as soon as the kingdom’s forces encircled it, the villagers revealed their true forms. Unveiling the Monsters Rip! Human skins tore apart, revealing grotesque creatures underneath. The transformation was horrifying to witness. “What the hell is this?” “These things are even more disgusting than the last ones!” “They’re worse than the previous monsters!” Even Marquis Branford and his seasoned knights were taken aback. Ghislain shouted above the chaos, rallying the troops. “They’re not particularly strong! But their blood is toxic—keep your distance! Knights, reinforce your bodies with mana!” Thanks to Ghislain’s warning, the knights and soldiers were able to dispatch the mutants without much difficulty. Being a small village, the number of enemies wasn’t overwhelming. Even the few templar-like figures leading the monsters were no match for the overwhelming force. Staring at the corpses of the creatures and mutants, Marquis Branford clenched his teeth, visibly restraining his anger. “So this means somewhere in this village, we’ll find the bodies of thousands of our citizens,” he growled. Raising his hand, Branford barked an order to the captain of his knights. “Turn over every inch of this village.” “By your command!” Uncovering the Underground With their vast numbers, the soldiers and knights quickly unearthed a hidden chamber beneath the village. Once the area was secured, Marquis Branford descended with his escort. The sight that greeted him was horrific. The stench was overwhelming, the grotesque magic circle carved into the ground pulsated with an unnatural energy, and piles of mutilated corpses were stacked carelessly. The scale of the atrocity was staggering. Those who entered couldn’t hide their shock. Even the priests of the Four Great Churches, who had accompanied the mission as witnesses, were horrified. “This is... unspeakable!” “These heretics are nothing short of demons! No, they are demons!” “To think these blasphemers have been operating so freely!” The priests, overwhelmed by fear, began citing passages from their holy texts. Among them was one that struck a chilling chord: "Beasts unlike any before shall rise from the Abyss, leading the land to ruin. These strange beasts shall pay for their deeds with the blood of the people. None shall close what is opened, and none shall open what is sealed..." “This is it! This is the prophecy! The end times are upon us!” one priest cried. “But these creatures haven’t risen from any abyss. The magic circle seems to just mutate them,” another countered. “How can you say that while feeling this vile energy? Regardless, all heretics must be exterminated!” As the priests descended into theological debates, the rest of the group focused on dismantling the magic circle and collecting the bodies. Marquis Branford’s Fury Marquis Branford, his anger simmering, turned to Ghislain. “Ghislain.” “Yes, my lord.” “Judging by the number of bodies here, this has been happening for years. And you say there are countless sites like this throughout the kingdom and even across the continent?” “It wouldn’t have been possible without support. Someone is aiding them.” “In Rutania, it must be Duke Delphine’s faction.” “Correct.” “And in other kingdoms, other nobles must be backing these bastards.” “I agree.” Marquis Branford nodded grimly. “It must have started when Duke Delphine withdrew and the rumors of his madness began.” The Duke had long been absent from public affairs. With his influence, he could have provided significant support to the Salvation Order. Blinded by the Duke’s overt ambition for the throne, everyone had failed to notice what was happening beneath the surface. The nation had been so preoccupied with the looming threat of civil war that the well-being of its citizens had been overlooked entirely. “It’s maddening,” Branford muttered. “How could so many disappear without anyone noticing?” “Most of the victims must have come from the south and west. They were likely abducted in ways that wouldn’t draw attention,” Ghislain explained calmly. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦 There was no shortage of people who could be snatched away without notice—vagrants, beggars, travelers, adventurers, drifters, mercenaries, bandits, and thieves. The list went on. The south was entirely under the Duke’s control, meaning there were no obstacles to a steady supply of humans. Marquis Rodrik in the west treated human lives with equal disregard. He had more than enough resources to send prisoners and slaves to the Duke’s family whenever requested. “Hah. They should’ve just kept their atrocities confined to their own lands instead of spreading them to the capital's vicinity and other regions,” Marquis Brantford growled, his voice heavy with frustration. “It seems they’ve been collaborating with insurgent factions to stir chaos during the civil war. This was likely part of a larger plan,” Ghislain replied, deliberately omitting mention of the rifts. Even if Brantford believed him, it would only create complications. Disagreements over strategy could arise at critical moments. For now, eliminating as many rift sites as possible was the top priority. Anything else could wait. Marquis Brantford took a deep breath, suppressing his anger. “Very well. I’ll eradicate every one of these sites within my sphere of influence as quickly as possible. I’ll also dispatch messengers to inform the other kingdoms of the situation and provide them with the locations. What about you? What are your plans?” Normally, Brantford made decisions without consulting anyone. But Ghislain was an exception. Without his insight, the Loyalist faction wouldn’t have had this chance to strike back. “I’ll return to my domain immediately,” Ghislain said. “Marquis Rodrik won’t wait much longer to make his move.” “Are you seriously planning to fight him alone?” Brantford’s brow furrowed in concern. “Rodrik has already distanced himself from the Ducal faction. That makes him far easier to deal with. Marquis, you should focus on dismantling the magic arrays and preparing for the battle against the Duke’s forces. They’re running out of alternatives and will be desperate.” “Understood. But if you find yourself at a disadvantage against Rodrik, we will intervene,” Brantford declared firmly. Ghislain grinned. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it won’t come to that.” Brantford allowed himself a faint, weary smile. In the past, he would have dismissed such confidence as arrogance. But now, his feelings had shifted. Worry lingered, but so did a glimmer of hope. It was hard to imagine Ghislain losing. He suddenly realized why his perspective had changed. Brantford gazed at Ghislain, his expression softer than it had ever been when looking at the younger man. “I’m beginning to understand you,” he muttered to himself. Ghislain had always seemed reckless and inscrutable, difficult to trust. But now Brantford saw that his assumptions had been wrong. Ghislain’s actions weren’t driven by selfish ambition or hunger for power. There was a deeper motive behind his relentless determination. Brantford broke into a small smile and gave Ghislain a nod. “I wish you victory, Count Ferdium.” Ghislain blinked in mild surprise before smiling back and replying, “And I wish you the same, Marquis.” After exchanging polite bows, Ghislain led his knights out of the village. The Count of Ferdium would soon face Marquis Rodrik in a decisive battle. Meanwhile, with the Loyalist faction bolstered by the strength of the Four Great Churches, they had enough power to purge the rift sites within their territory. As Ghislain disappeared from sight, Brantford murmured to his trusted knight, “Tolreo, when this war ends, I don’t think Count Ferdium will need to come to me for anything ever again.” “What do you mean by that, my lord? Surely the Count will continue to seek your support whenever he has a need. He’s become rather bold about his demands of late,” Tolreo remarked with a faint grin. Brantford chuckled. “Why would he bother? If he needs something, he’ll simply take it.” Tolreo stammered in disbelief. “M-my lord, surely you’re not suggesting...” Brantford’s laugh grew heartier. “Yes. I’ve decided to name Count Ferdium as my true successor.” “But my lord! What about the heir to your estate?” Tolreo exclaimed, shocked. “You mean my son?” Brantford scoffed. “He’s rotting away in the east, content to do nothing. Do you honestly think he has the capacity to govern this kingdom’s affairs? He’s less capable than even Rosalyn. The others are no better. If any of them can inherit the estate without ruining it, I’ll count that as a blessing.” “Count Ferdium doesn’t pledge himself to the royal family. If the war ends in victory, he may become more dangerous than the Duke’s faction ever was.” “I’m well aware of that,” Brantford said, his tone calm. “But there’s no one as capable as him. And now, I think I finally understand what drives him.” “And what might that be, my lord?” “Responsibility.” The answer left Tolreo utterly baffled. Ghislain Ferdium, known for his reckless antics and troublemaking ways, now driven by responsibility? It seemed almost absurd. But Brantford’s expression softened, his voice filled with conviction. “I know it because I’ve lived with that same sense of duty. That man will do anything to protect his land—his family, his friends, his people. He bears all of them on his shoulders.” “...” “He’s determined not to abandon a single one of them,” Brantford continued, his voice tinged with admiration. “He’s greedy, relentless, and uncompromising. But that’s precisely what makes him formidable.” “So, what are you saying, my lord?” Brantford’s laugh was light, almost carefree. “I’m saying that if I entrust the kingdom to him, he will become its guardian. And that’s enough for me. He won’t rashly bring harm to the royal family. That’s not who he is.” For the first time in years, Marquis Brantford felt a sense of relief. Because of Ghislain Ferdium, he could finally dare to dream of retirement.