The Ultimate Passive Paradigm [LitRPG Adventure, Epic Progression]

The massive flying sword came to a halt in mid-air, advancing no further. Ahead of them, the city of Maelivar emerged, with its protective mana field shimmering around its perimeter. Above it, gun emplacements continuously fired at military forces attempting to breach the defenses. The defensive capabilities of what was considered the pinnacle of Caelindor were living up to their reputation. For days on end, not a single soul had managed to penetrate those walls.

What Caelindor was implementing became clear to everyone watching, even those from the lowest social strata. They were conducting a siege campaign against their own city. The plan was to isolate Maelivar long enough to force the city to open its gates for supply convoys. To achieve this, border forces had to prevent enemy troops from crossing the gap between their positions and reaching Maelivar.

The terrain provided advantages that Caelindor exploited to their fullest. While the vast plains posed certain difficulties, the hills, mountains, and rivers were being used to push back Mirothea's forces. For cultivators who spent their lives among desert sands, dust, and stone, these three types of terrain proved extremely challenging to assault. It seemed Mirothea's army was merely testing Caelindor's strength and wearing down their forces rather than attempting to break through these obvious defensive bottlenecks.

Nathan partially understood the mission the sect had sent them on, as well as why he had been assigned to work with Lachlan. Even the System approved of this course of action.

You got a new quest: 'Winning the War!'

Objective: Assist Verdant Spire Sect and Caelindor in the current war.

Reward: Based on the outcome.

Case 1: Win back Maelivar. Reward: 10,000 credits.

Case 2: Win back Maelivar and eliminate the supporting forces. Reward: 10,000 credits and one Very Rare Skill Roll.

Case 3: Win back Maelivar, eliminate the supporting forces, and force Mirothea to compensate. Reward: 10,000 credits, One Very Rare Skill Roll, and One Personal Space.

Punishment if failed: None.

Nathan would have cursed the System thoroughly if it had dared impose penalties for this quest. Dealing with the aftermath of war failure would be burden enough without having to compensate the System as well. As for the 'supporting forces,' he suspected this referred to House Merinor, Duke Kael Voss, or the other two great houses. However, he believed there were more players in this game than the System's objectives suggested, and he wasn't sure how completion would be evaluated.

"We'll be landing now," Zeryn announced. The team behind them rose from their meditative states. Those who had been quietly conversing fell silent and adopted serious expressions.

The air rushed against them as the flat surface of the sword pressed downward, the soft humming from mana usage fading away. Everyone jumped down. Finally, Zeryn tapped the transportation device, causing it to shrink back to the size of a normal sword before disappearing into his spatial ring.

"To avoid being mistakenly fired upon when entering military airspace, whether by our own forces or the enemy," Zeryn explained, "we'll travel on foot to our designated position. Form up!"

All twenty members followed the formation Zeryn had outlined during their journey. They chose the simplest and most effective arrangement: Zeryn and Nathan would take point, with the other disciples spreading out to either side to form an arrowhead. The remaining members would take the center to guard against attacks from behind while rotating with the disciples at the tip when they tired. This formation ensured everyone would see combat while maintaining the ability to recover. The center group also had the responsibility of watching for and countering attacks from above. Though the formation served no immediate purpose, everyone understood this was preparation for what lay ahead.

Zeryn's dissatisfied expression was clear when it took the twenty-person group three seconds to complete what should have taken one for Tier 2 cultivators. "It'll improve," Nathan told his friend.

Zeryn shook his head. "Years of training at the sect, and they can't even handle something this simple. I'm starting to lose faith before we've even drawn swords."

Nathan glanced back at the disciples, who were all scratching their heads sheepishly. Frank smiled and nodded at him, his eyes bright despite the reprimand. Beside him, Elen kept his head down.

"Establish the mana dome," Zeryn commanded again. A protective barrier enveloped the arrowhead formation they had created. Nathan was about to contribute when Zeryn stopped him. Though he didn't understand the reasoning behind the head shake, he complied.

"Move out," Zeryn called loudly. The formation began advancing. Their speed was deliberately slow to ensure synchronization between all members. Zeryn served as the focal point that the other members tracked with spirit vision to know when to move and when to stop. This required practice before real combat, even when the group's movement remained unbroken. Zeryn remained consistently dissatisfied.

Using [Martial Arts Mastery] to enhance his senses, Nathan noticed Zeryn frequently attempting to increase their pace. Each time this happened, disruption followed. Individual members would fall out of step, evidence of insufficient attention to their leader. The disruption also affected the mana dome covering them from above. Only then did Nathan realize why the protective layer around him and Zeryn failed whenever this occurred, and he understood why his friend had asked him not to contribute to the mana dome.

According to the formation's design, when attacking or defending, Zeryn and Nathan would become the primary targets of enemy aggression. Therefore, the two leaders couldn't divide their attention to maintain the mana dome behind and above them. The responsibility for protecting both leaders fell to their teammates. The remaining members had to maintain and shield the two commanders from minor attacks that, while individually small, could cause significant damage if they hit. They were still only marching, not yet engaged in battle. The disciples carried portable formation devices to enhance their protection, but human coordination remained the most crucial factor.

Nathan experienced no major difficulties implementing these minor details, thanks to analysis from [Martial Arts Mastery] combined with [Better Vision]. [Aura of Calm] provided even greater assistance. The skill helped his teammates after sometimes. They improved quite quickly with the mana dome remained stable even with deliberate disruption from Zeryn.

A deep feeling within him became clearer in that moment. He was actually looking forward to this. For him, this chaos couldn't compare to the nightmare he had endured concerning Vincent's safety.

Zeryn maintained a stern expression but said nothing, silently leading them forward. The twenty members moved down a hillside toward the plains surrounding Maelivar. The terrain was perfectly suited for a city specializing in technology. Air defense encountered no visibility problems with the clear sightlines, and there were no concerns about waterways. However, the land route meant the city walls ahead looked like nothing less than an ancient monster ready to devour anyone who approached.

Several plans, such as digging to contaminate the city's water source, had been rejected. Such actions were considered among the most despicable possible tactics. While effective in ancient warfare, they were useless against cultivators. Poisoned water would only harm civilians within the city without affecting the main forces. The siege campaign wouldn't be shortened in the slightest. Even the path Zeryn was leading them along was the product of sacrifices.

The plan devised by Duke Kael Voss and House Merinor had been extensive enough to prepare multiple troublesome cards for the army. Hidden bombs buried beneath the ground had been triggered to attack siege units. Until now, battle rams and large siege engines had been unable to approach Maelivar due to concerns about these concealed attacks. According to estimates, the casualties around Maelivar's perimeter nearly equaled those from the border clashes. Cloth-wrapped stakes had been erected on both sides, creating a pathway for those who came after. The team members could see churned earth, lingering smoke that refused to dissipate, and armor fragments scattered everywhere. The small enthusiasm that had remained suddenly vanished from their eyes. War and fighting for resources were things they supported, but when they themselves became the potential victims, everyone hesitated.

Along the route, Caelindor's military camp tents were scattered about. They hadn't yet reached Lachlan's location, so this area mainly served the severely wounded soldiers and emergency medical stations. Transport vehicles hovered nearby, ready to evacuate casualties immediately. Healing medicines and treatments weren't unavailable, but naturally, they weren't allocated to such low-ranking soldiers. These were expendable pieces from the government's perspective. To Nathan's senses, most were only Tier 1, with some ordinary people enhanced with equipment to make them stronger. Tier 2s received far more careful attention.

Nathan truly didn't know what to think about this situation. Criticism would contradict his current thoughts. In his position, he would also prioritize necessary forces rather than waste resources on those who couldn't change the war's outcome. Yet deep in his heart, he was cursing himself. Those charred faces, those bodies missing arms or legs, those groaning voices—they were all human beings. He hated this new way of thinking he was developing.

"Make decisions for others," Vincent seemed to whisper in his ear, "because you have the capability to do so. Results will justify the means." Even now, Nathan couldn't accept the 'means' of his captured senior brother. So how could he embrace his own cold and ruthless way of thinking?

From ahead, Zeryn ordered the entire team to move faster as the rumbling of aircraft engines filled the air. The twenty disciples of Verdant Spire Sect turned their eyes and ears from the groaning, screaming, blood, and bandages scattered around them. The acrid smell of burning and the metallic tang of blood made them dizzy. Several couldn't help but cover their mouths. Training in violence was one thing, but actually living through the nightmare was something entirely different.

Eventually, the team reached the main camp of the Unwinged Dragon battalion. A name carrying both darkness and irony—a fitting choice from someone as arrogant as Lachlan. With Maelivar's nearly absolute air defense capabilities, high-altitude attack campaigns were essentially eliminated for all but Tier 4 and Tier 5 cultivators. Therefore, despite possessing aircraft and air combat support equipment, the army had decided not to deploy them. Not because they cared about human lives, but because these machines were too expensive. People, however, were cheaper.

Hours later, soldiers standing guard outside the temporary barriers raised their weapons toward the approaching group. The heat emanating from the weapons forced the Verdant Spire Sect disciples to halt.

Zeryn stepped forward, producing an official token and speaking loudly, "Zeryn Valtaris. Team leader of the special task force sent from Verdant Spire Sect to assist Major Lachlan Rourke."

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A soldier wearing worn armor and cracked protective goggles approached. He examined the token, then bowed to Zeryn and gestured for them to enter the camp. However, he couldn't resist adding some unnecessary comments to the sword genius.

"We very much hope the esteemed disciples know what they should and shouldn't do. We don't need additional problems to solve in the camp."

Zeryn shot him a sharp look. The guard staggered backward, blood flowing from the corner of his goggles. The other soldiers immediately raised their weapons.

"Do you want to know whether your guns are faster than my sword?" Zeryn asked coldly. The weapons were immediately lowered. Everyone there knew the danger posed by someone like Zeryn. The words had merely been the product of exhaustion and frustration.

The injured guard knelt down, apologizing, "Please forgive me, sir. It's just that the other factions have really been causing us trouble, so I spoke out of turn."

"Then you should know what you should and shouldn't say, just as I know what I should and shouldn't do," Zeryn scolded as he walked past. "Don't presume to offer advice just because we're equals in rank."

The gate guards bowed their heads in fear, not even daring to whisper among themselves. Nathan observed the wariness within his own team while noting some surprise at Zeryn's capabilities. The guard captain was also a Tier 2 with a higher Phase than Nathan, yet he couldn't withstand even one strike from Zeryn.

Nathan wondered what would happen if he and his close friend engaged in combat. He felt some anticipation about potentially triggering the hidden effect of [Martial Arts Mastery] once more.

Though the camp looked better equipped and more comfortable than the medical stations, it still carried an air of desolation. The tents here had been replaced with square box-like structures made from lightweight plastic and metal composites. Even if they collapsed, they wouldn't harm anyone or impede movement. Most importantly, the landscape was too clearly divided.

One half maintained military precision, with soldiers in proper uniforms systematically checking weapons and ammunition. The other side was a gaudy eyesore. Tents and rooms of every conceivable color had been erected, bulky and impractical. Some even included hot tubs, others had oversized bedrooms, and some featured lounge chairs beneath large canopies. It looked more like a vacation resort than a war zone.

Disciples from other sects moved about serving the geniuses who looked down on everyone with their noses in the air. These privileged individuals lounged on their elaborate furniture, pointing and making casual jokes about the disciplined soldiers across from them. Most conspicuous in the central area was a small palace gleaming with gold and silver plating on its exterior. It even had a staircase leading to the entrance. Rich incense wafted from within. Above the slanted roof, completely contrary to the practical slanted tops designed to prevent hazards, hung a large flag fluttering in the wind. A lion roared toward the sky. Even the surrounding troublemakers seemed to find this display distasteful and had to make space for it.

"Where are our quarters?" Zeryn asked a soldier holding a tablet for record-keeping. The man's face wrinkled, not answering immediately.

"No space left?" Zeryn raised an eyebrow.

"That's correct, sir," the soldier replied hesitantly. "There should be enough space, but..."

The entire Verdant Spire Sect group looked toward the inappropriate palace. "Doesn't Major Lachlan manage these arrangements?" Zeryn asked with a frown.

"He's currently in strategic meetings with higher-ranking officials," the soldier said quickly, as if defending his superior. "He doesn't have time for such matters."

"So what now?" Zeryn crossed his arms. "Leave us without anywhere to rest?"

"About that..."

"Of course not." A clear voice cut through the soldier's words. Over a hundred soldiers simultaneously stood and moved aside, placing hands over their hearts in salute. From a simple room indistinguishable from the surrounding quarters, Lachlan emerged. His face carried its characteristic slight tilt and mocking smile. He wore the same well-tailored uniform as his soldiers—nothing extravagant or elaborate. Rank insignia adorned his shoulder. His hair was cut short, his neck straight, hands clasped behind his back. He surveyed the situation around him.

"Hmm, some people truly live their entire lives with waterlogged brains," Lachlan said irritably. Behind him emerged a small team of eight. Among them was the wind-aspect swordsman who had fought Nathan and Zeryn. Beside him were other elite members, most notably the cultivator possessing the rare gravity aspect.

Lachlan walked forward slowly. The surrounding soldiers became straighter than arrows. Through Nathan's observation, their eyes held an unmistakable fervor. Their determination to contribute made Nathan genuinely respect this troublemaker who had always sought to cause him problems.

As he passed Nathan, Lachlan grinned broadly. "We certainly have an interesting fate together."

"Weren't you the one who requested my presence?" Nathan crossed his arms.

"True enough. But whether the higher-ups approved wasn't up to me. Even your sect leader is supporting this bond of ours."

"Spare me the words and resolve this situation," Nathan said without interest. He only needed to blend into the war to prevent being ambushed like at Cascade Gardens. Where he stayed didn't matter.

Lachlan nodded, his joking expression suddenly becoming stern. He stepped forward, placing his foot on the invisible line dividing the two forces.

"Clear away all this unnecessary garbage immediately," Lachlan ordered. The assigned disciples froze, looking toward their group leaders.

Nathan could see uniforms from The Resonating Blade School, The Living Metal Sect, and Stormcrown Institute. All the organizations present at The Shifting Trials had sent representatives to provide support. These young people gathered together to face Lachlan's reproachful gaze. Clearly, they had no intention of complying.

At that moment, the palace doors opened, and a young man appeared before everyone. He wore an expensive white outfit that rivaled his luxurious accommodations. The clothing's edges were created from sparkling gems, and even the fabric emanated a strange energy field. Its smoothness was visible to the naked eye. Atop his carefully maintained golden hair sat a crown—not overly elaborate but sufficient to display his nobility. A large number of people knelt immediately upon the young man's appearance.

"Greetings, Your Highness," they chorused.

Nathan was startled. He had never imagined someone of such high rank would come to this blood-soaked place. However, seeing the enjoyment on that handsome face, Nathan understood. This royal hadn't come to contribute.

"Why aren't you kneeling, Lachlan?" the prince asked, chin raised in the tone of a superior.

"With all due respect, Your Highness," Lachlan replied mockingly, "according to military regulations, you should be saluting me, not the other way around."

Several sharp intakes of breath spread among the observers, mainly from the sects and organizations rather than the military.

"Insubordination," the prince shrieked. "Are you trying to rebel?"

"Rebel?" Lachlan snorted. "I'm simply doing my duty."

"And isn't your duty to follow orders from the royal family?"

"Yes."

"Then what exactly are you doing? Showing me disrespect in front of everyone? Do you want to be executed?"

Lachlan sighed dramatically for everyone to see. "I follow the king's orders to lead this battalion. Or are you the Major?"

The prince's face darkened, his lips trembling before he finally answered, "You are."

"Then should I follow the king's orders or your orders, Prince Daniel?"

Daniel said nothing, his face grim.

"According to Caelindor's military law," Lachlan continued, "even royalty, once enlisted, must follow the chain of command. My calling you 'Your Highness' is already quite generous. Just ask my troops how I can cut people down with words."

The army behind him beamed with proud laughter, not viewing the previous statement as an insult or threat.

"Hmph!" Daniel waved his sleeves. "Father will punish you for this."

"Then I'll explain to our king quite clearly that you're a coward."

"You..." the prince pointed accusingly.

"If you weren't, you would have challenged me to a duel. But you don't dare, do you?"

"I don't want to dirty my hands," Daniel said, shrinking back.

The murmured discussions around them made the prince's face redder. From ahead, Lachlan muttered, "I don't have time for this."

A blue light flashed, followed by a resounding explosion. Immediately after, the prince's harsh coughing made everyone cry out in alarm. Daniel knelt on the stairs, spitting saliva violently. His clothes were wrinkled at the stomach, with a black scorch mark formed. Lachlan had already returned to his original position.

Daniel's bodyguards immediately emerged from the palace, weapons ready, their eyes blazing with killing intent.

"Assassinating the prince? Do you know what crime you've committed, Lachlan?" one of the guards said.

"He's not dead yet." Lachlan picked at his ear. "Can you royals tone down the threats? I'm worried about dirtying my hands."

A round of laughter stretched throughout the military ranks. Though the guards spoke tough words, they truly didn't dare act. Prince Daniel rolled his eyes around, his gaze burning with fury as he pointed at the puncher: "Lachlan!"

"Major Lachlan," the military leader corrected. "Be careful, or I'll charge you with insubordination."

"You bastard!" Daniel roared.

The blue light flashed again. Before anyone knew what had happened, Daniel's neck was completely in Lachlan's grasp. The bodyguards watched in shock as their prince struggled to breathe, blood vessels bulging on his face. What made it even more terrifying was that they couldn't react despite knowing their opponent could attack at any moment. Lachlan stood far from the palace, yet if the guards advanced, the soldiers would immediately intervene.

With a slight smile, Lachlan raised his hand.

Slap!

The sound of the strike earned disapproving looks from disciples of other factions, including some from Verdant Spire Sect. The young people who were valued within their organizations increasingly felt that things weren't as they had imagined. They had done missions, killed monsters, been suppressed by senior brothers and elders, but never had outsiders dared to show such disrespect as Lachlan. Most had thought the military would have to yield and serve these geniuses devotedly. Reality was completely opposite. Even a prince was being beaten, so what were they? That slap was for everyone present here.

"Lachlan!" Daniel screamed. "You won't die with your body intact!"

"Major Lachlan," Lachlan said dismissively, tightening his grip. "Don't make me repeat myself."

"You won't get away with this!"

Slap!

Lachlan didn't hesitate to give the prince of the Caelindor dynasty more intimate attention. Everyone could clearly see that Daniel was like a fish in a net, merely prolonging his final breath. The royal guards stood frozen. They couldn't act because, as Lachlan had said, he was the leader here, not the prince. Lachlan might spare Daniel's life, but commoners had no such privilege. A few example deaths would be more valuable than survival in Lachlan's eyes.

Slap!

Teeth and blood flew from the noble prince's mouth. Daniel coughed even more violently, the marks on his neck growing redder.

"Lachlan..." the guard captain began.

With a thunderous crash, the guard was sent flying backward by the swordsman, crashing into the palace wall. The swordsman sheathed his weapon and glided back behind his leader. The guard struggled to push away the debris and crawl out. His face was pale beneath the dust, his hands and feet shaking as others helped him up.

"Major Lachlan," he tiredly said, "do you truly intend to kill the prince?"

"Not quite." Lachlan smiled. "But I don't want a loudmouth constantly shouting in prison."

A team leader from The Resonating Blade School stepped forward: "Don't get too carried away, Lachlan. We were sent to provide support, not to be your servants."

Lachlan gestured for his followers to stay back, looking toward the speaker.

"Either you leave, or you follow orders," Lachlan declared boldly, his hand still gripping the prince's neck. "I don't need a bunch of inexperienced children who are easily offended. They only cause trouble without accomplishing anything. Anyone willing to help reclaim Maelivar can stay, and I'll treat them with the highest respect. But when I give orders, you must obey. At least I can promise that everything we do serves a noble cause—for the country. Not the petty, selfish desires of this prince who wants to gain advantages in the succession struggle."

The entire army behind Lachlan stomped their feet, pounded their chests, and roared, "For Caelindor!"

The major tilted his head, smiling at Daniel. "Not a bad speech, Your Highness?"

Daniel's battered face could still show reluctance despite its altered state. Eventually, the royal child had to surrender, mumbling. Lachlan didn't let him off easy, mocking, "I can't hear what you're saying."

Gritting his teeth, Daniel shouted, "Understood, Major Lachlan."

Thud!

The prince fell straight to the ground, completely powerless. He coughed up large mouthfuls of blood, his eyes still carrying hatred toward the leader.

Lachlan seemed unconcerned by the gaze, ordering, "Tear down these space-wasting constructions. Including those belonging to you opportunists. Do you insects think you can follow the prince's example? Then expect someone to stand up for you when trouble comes? Keep dreaming. Except for the Verdant Spire Sect group, all of you run one hundred laps around the camp. No mana allowed. Anyone who disobeys shouldn't blame me. Prince Daniel will serve as your example."

Simultaneous gulping sounds rose from everyone. No one voiced opposition, only carrying grim expressions as they followed orders. Like Nathan could analyze the situation, they knew they were no match for Lachlan Rourke. Though the prince's cultivation wasn't high, his equipment was nationally supreme. Yet he couldn't resist Lachlan's lightning-fast attacks for even a second. While Lachlan hadn't reached the top 64 of The Shifting Trials, his actual strength exceeded imagination.

"Zeryn Valtaris and Nathan Reed," Lachlan called. "Once you're settled, come see me."

Both nodded, knowing that only now would they truly learn the secret behind Arthur Merinor.