The soldiers couldn’t fully process what they had just heard. It was all too sudden. There were other pressing questions lingering in their minds: How did they make it through the mist? What happened to the creatures inside? Did they just break through? When faced with an impossible situation, the human mind tends to freeze. The Ceyron soldiers were paralyzed by the sight of an army that had shattered their understanding of what was possible. The commander of the Ceyron forces stammered as he spoke. “W-who did you say you were?” Though he had never met the man before, the sheer presence of the army behind him demanded respect and deference. Even the act of breaking through the mist made it clear that this was no ordinary force. Ghislain repeated himself clearly. “I am Duke Fenris of the Kingdom of Ruthania.” He refrained from using the title Grand Duke of the North. It still felt too awkward for him to say aloud. The commander repeated the name a few times, his eyes widening with realization. “Ruthania... Fenris... Fenris... Oh! Count Fenris! No, Duke Fenris?” The commander was visibly shocked. Fenris was well-known even in Ceyron, a name associated with power from the mighty Kingdom of Ruthania. “H-how is this possible? I thought Ruthania was still in the middle of a civil war...” “It’s been resolved. Ruthania has unified under a new king.” Ghislain briefly summarized the situation. Given how isolated Ceyron was due to the mist and the Rifts, their lack of current news was understandable. The commander’s expression brightened with hope as he asked, “So... you’ve truly come to help us?” “Yes. On the way here, we already cleared one Rift. We’ll handle the rest as well.” “Waaaah!” The Ceyron soldiers erupted in cheers. Until now, they had seen no path forward, believing they were doomed to either starve to death or be devoured by the Rifts. They couldn’t flee either—the domains of the Rifts were positioned too strategically, making any escape nearly impossible. But now, reinforcements from the powerful Kingdom of Ruthania had arrived. A glimmer of hope reignited in their hearts. Ghislain, wearing a confident smile, addressed the troops. “Let’s skip any unnecessary formalities. We’ll rest for a day and then march straight to handle the Rifts. Prepare food and stones for the catapults.” The mobile corps always carried basic rations, but to eat properly, they relied on local supplies. Using stones from nearby for their catapults would make dismantling the Rifts much easier. The commander hesitated slightly before responding. “Ah, understood. I’ll send a report immediately.” Stones were not an issue. They had stockpiled plenty to fortify their defenses. But food was another matter. Even the Ceyron soldiers were barely surviving, and providing for an army of 20,000 seemed impossible. Still, it wasn’t the commander’s decision to make. He sent a messenger to relay the request. Shortly after, a small group arrived on horseback to meet Ghislain. “Ah, Duke Fenris, I presume? I am Marquis Perain, Commander-in-Chief of the Ceyron Royal Army.” “A pleasure. I’m here to assist with clearing the Rifts.” Marquis Perain broke into a broad smile. He had long heard of Ghislain’s reputation as the strongest in the North. Adding to that, Ruthania had always been a military powerhouse. Word had it that Ghislain had even defeated the formidable Duke Delphine. To have someone of this caliber lend aid was a tremendous boon. “Thank you so much! Please, let us escort you to the castle to meet His Majesty. We’ll arrange a grand banquet in your honor.” As a Duke of Ruthania, Ghislain was someone to be revered. Marquis Perain had already informed the castle of his arrival. Ghislain frowned slightly. “...It seems my message didn’t reach you. We plan to rest for a day and then immediately handle the Rifts. Has the supply situation been prepared?” “Oh, yes, of course. We’ll provide all the supplies you need. However...” Marquis Perain glanced nervously at the soldiers around them. Many of them were listening intently. Ghislain quickly pieced the situation together. The soldiers were clearly underfed and fatigued—it was plain to see. “Is there a food shortage?” Ghislain asked bluntly. “Ahem... Well, yes. Our current food supplies are... limited. Perhaps we could discuss this in private...” Ghislain ignored the marquis’s suggestion. “We provided significant food supplies to your kingdom. Why is there a shortage?” When the Rifts first appeared, when the Salvation Order rose to power, and during the formation of the Allied Forces, Ghislain had ensured that substantial support was sent to neighboring nations, including Ceyron. While not as much as was given to major allies, the struggling smaller kingdoms still received significant aid. There was a reason for this generosity: ensuring these nations held the line allowed Ruthania to end its civil war more swiftly. For Ceyron to already be short on food made no sense. Ghislain pressed the issue in front of everyone, his voice cold. “It seems my administrators didn’t handle matters properly. I apologize for the oversight. Unfortunately, I can’t personally oversee every detail.” “T-that’s not it...” “Then tell me how much food you received. If it wasn’t the amount I ordered, I’ll hold the administrators accountable.” “Ah, w-well, you see... Duke Fenris, the thing is...” Marquis Perain broke into a cold sweat. Ceyron had survived this long only because of the massive food aid from Fenris and Ferdium. There was no way to deny the truth—not to someone who knew exactly how much had been sent. ‘Why now? Of course, they’d bring it up now...’ Marquis Perain couldn’t possibly admit, in front of everyone, that the food had been hoarded and rationed less than necessary. As the marquis faltered, Ghislain’s tone turned icy. “What’s the status of the food?” “W-we have... enough. It’s all properly stockpiled...” At those words, murmurs began spreading among the soldiers. They had tolerated reduced rations, assuming it was due to the kingdom’s dire state. While they resented the well-fed nobles, they believed the shortages were unavoidable. After all, the nobility always claimed the kingdom’s finances were exhausted. But hearing that vast amounts of food had been hoarded stirred feelings of betrayal. Ghislain smirked and spoke bluntly. “Are you insane?” “...” “I specifically said not to withhold rations. The soldiers look terrible.” Though his words were harsh, Marquis Perain couldn’t protest. It was true—food had been deliberately withheld to stretch the supplies as long as possible. Still, the marquis felt a twinge of defensiveness. “Duke Fenris, our kingdom’s entire production infrastructure has been destroyed. We had no choice but to conserve resources...” “Conserving resources is fine. What’s your plan after that? When everything runs out?” “...” The marquis had no answer. His plan was to abandon the kingdom before the supplies ran out. Letting the nation collapse was better than dying alongside it, after all. Ghislain gave him a look of utter disdain. “And yet, you’re still planning a banquet. I take it the nobles are eating well?” “...” Ghislain clicked his tongue, his disdain for the nobility palpable. “Nobles... they’re all the same, aren’t they?” There wasn’t much that could be done about a kingdom already on the brink of collapse. Still, he trusted that Claude would handle things accordingly. It wasn’t hard to understand the nobility’s hesitation. They lacked the courage to openly fight against the Rifts, yet they were unwilling to abandon their kingdom entirely. But hoarding food meant for their soldiers? Leaving them barely alive? That was too much. They might as well have eaten their fill and fled to another country. “Bring out the food immediately. We’ll take care of the Rifts. And as promised, distribute the rations properly to the soldiers. Let me remind you, that food is all from my own resources.” With the civil war in Ruthania resolved, Ghislain no longer felt obligated to consider the plight of neighboring nobles. Any region not aiding in the fight against the Salvation Order would be swiftly cut off. Marquis Perain, his face sullen, reluctantly replied, “Understood...” The soldiers of Ceyron clenched their lips, struggling to contain their anger. They had fought tirelessly to defend the capital’s last line of defense, only to learn that their efforts were undermined by the very people they served. The nobles had exploited them relentlessly while hoarding food that could have been distributed to sustain them. The betrayal stung deeply. “This kingdom might as well fall.” “Better to be conquered by Ruthania.” “At least they feed their soldiers well.” Feeling the icy glares of the soldiers, Marquis Perain quickly withdrew, fully aware that a rebellion might not be far off. “Damn it! That rude bastard! Shouldn’t a fellow noble show some understanding? Is he looking down on us just because we’re a weaker kingdom?” It wasn’t disdain for a weaker kingdom but rather contempt for incompetence. Yet Marquis Perain lacked the self-awareness to realize this. The following day, a large quantity of food was transported to the camp. Fenris’s mobile corps ate their fill and prepared for the next battle. Even the Ceyron soldiers were involved, though their roles were limited to transporting stones and food rather than direct combat. For many of them, entering the mist-covered domain of the Rifts for the first time was a terrifying prospect. Soon enough, they witnessed an awe-inspiring sight. Kaaaaargh! Boom! Boom! BOOOOM! Massive spells obliterated the advancing Riftspawn. While the mages eradicated the frontlines, the mobile corps didn’t remain idle. Whoosh! Arrows rained down on the creatures like a storm. At the same time, a hundred trebuchets were rapidly constructed. “Bring the stones!” At the knights’ commands, Ceyron’s soldiers hurriedly carried stones to the trebuchets, too busy to even glance at the ongoing battle. Boom! Boom! BOOM! Hundreds of stones launched continuously from the trebuchets, annihilating the advancing Riftspawn before they could even get close. The overwhelming firepower left the soldiers in awe. By the time they regained their composure, the Riftspawn had been nearly eradicated. “W-wow...” “They wiped out so many of them so easily?” “Incredible. How strong are they?” The fear etched onto the Ceyron soldiers’ faces was replaced with admiration. They had never seen an army this powerful before. “Let’s move!” At Ghislain’s command, the army advanced again. The first day of a Rift battle was always the most intense, as it was when the creatures swarmed in from all directions. Once that initial wave was defeated, the rest became manageable. Most of the Riftspawn would already be dead by then. In fact, it often took longer to reach the area where the Equidema resided than it did to clear out the Riftspawn. When it came time to face the Equidema, the entire army wasn’t even needed. Ghislain, the other superhumans, mages, and priests were more than enough. Kaaaaargh! Even a powerful Equidema couldn’t withstand the combined might of individuals comparable to an entire nation’s military strength. Within a few days, all the Rifts were cleared. The soldiers of Ceyron erupted in joyous celebration. “Wooohooo!” “They really did it—they cleared the Rifts!” “We’re alive! We survived!” The relief and elation were overwhelming. What had seemed like an inevitable death sentence was resolved with startling efficiency. This was only possible because the Salvation Order had no presence in the area. Most of their forces had concentrated on Ruthania instead. Amid the cheers of soldiers and citizens, Ghislain’s group returned to Ceyron’s capital. By that time, the 100,000-strong Northern Army led by Claude had also arrived. The sheer size of the force left the people of Ceyron in awe. All the high-ranking nobles of Ceyron gathered to greet Ghislain. “As expected of Ruthania.” “We’ve heard of Duke Fenris’s reputation for years.” “On behalf of His Majesty, we thank you deeply.” “Please, come to the castle. We’ll host a grand banquet to celebrate and allow you to rest.” The nobles flattered Ghislain, eager to curry favor. It was clear they hoped to establish a connection with such a powerful figure. As a great noble of a militarily dominant kingdom, Ghislain was a rare ally to win over. Their fear of the 100,000-strong army certainly played a role as well. However, Ghislain rejected their offer without hesitation. “I’m busy and must leave immediately. The next kingdom awaits.” Marquis Perain, representing the nobles, tried to persuade him to stay. “Surely you wouldn’t leave so abruptly after all you’ve done for us? Please, rest for a few days before you depart.” “No. The Salvation Order’s forces must be dealt with before they consolidate. The sooner we act, the better.” “Ah, then... we wish you the best of luck.” Marquis Perain sighed inwardly in relief. Though he had hoped to keep Ghislain around to bolster morale, the Duke’s departure meant less pressure on the nobles themselves. But then, Ghislain dropped a bombshell. “The Steward will remain behind to audit the use of our support provisions. Be prepared for inspection.” “W-what?!” “We must ensure accountability. Promises were made to the soldiers, after all.” “B-but...” Marquis Perain and the other nobles were thrown into a panic. While they had indeed promised to distribute the supplies fairly, they had never expected such a thorough investigation. The idea of a fellow noble conducting an audit felt absurdly overreaching. Before they could muster any excuses, Ghislain turned and left without another word. Claude, his expression impassive, addressed the flustered nobles. “I’ll be meeting with His Majesty to begin the investigation.” “Ah, ahem. And you are...?” “I am the Steward of Fenris. I also studied at Ceyron Academy.” Claude’s smile carried a subtle edge. His mentor, falsely accused of treason, had been executed by the king and nobles of this kingdom. They had known of his innocence yet killed him for political convenience. Even worse, his mentor’s daughter and Claude’s fiancée, Anna, had been sold off to another noble due to her inability to pay the exorbitant fines imposed on her family. Until Ghislain saved him, Claude had lived as a broken man. Now, he had returned to Ceyron with full authority and 100,000 troops at his command.