The World Has Become Kinder to Her

Upon inspecting the knights sent by the noble families, it was clear that, except for a few like Kusran, most of them were of mediocre skill. It seemed that since the battlefield would be dangerous, they refrained from sending their strongest warriors. This was a stark contrast to the Magic Tower, which had dispatched powerful wizards. 

“We really can’t afford to lose our commanders this time. With all the lies they’ve told, they’ll definitely end up in hell,” came a lively voice from among the wizards. The sunlight reflected off silver hair. 

Frederick, the eldest son of the Duke of Abran, and the one considered the next Tower Master, was leading the wizards on this expedition as their “Rector” on behalf of the Magic Tower. 

“I’ll say just one thing. Don’t use others as a shield and just survive—no matter what. Even if you lose an arm or a leg, just stay alive. Then, we’ll pour potions on you and cast healing spells to keep you alive.”

“Uh, if you use potions and healing spells, can you restore a lost limb?” one of the soldiers guarding the wizards cautiously asked. Frederick smiled and replied.

“No. If there’s a bone left, maybe. But if it’s cleanly blown off, that’s the realm of creation, so we can’t restore it.”

“Th-that’s…”

“Still, living is better than dying. I hear people can adapt to prosthetic arms or legs. Just because you lose an arm doesn’t mean you can’t do your nightly duties. In fact, some guys might even brag about it, turning their misfortune into tales of heroism.”

Frederick’s cheerful yet brutal and crude remarks made not only the nearby wizards but even the soldiers laugh. Of course, some soldiers were more frightened, and some of the female wizards frowned in protest. 

“Frederick, please, would you keep your mouth shut?” 

“Oh, come on! I’m just helping the rookies relax. And I’m giving them a dose of reality. How kind am I?”

“Your kindness is suffocating.”

“Why does it feel like the way other wizards talk is starting to resemble you, Manores?”

“Please, don’t accuse me of such things. Being exposed to someone like you can make people irritable, much like how one becomes irritated under scorching sunlight.”

The silver-haired man, with a playful smile, looked as pristine as untouched snow. Their lighthearted conversation carried warmth that felt out of place for the battlefield they were heading toward. Kenneth could only hope that Frederick would at least keep half of the promises he made.

***

The subjugation force took several days to reach the southern region. 

The monsters had already trampled over small villages, including a community of slash-and-burn farmers near the entrance of the Dark Forest, and had destroyed the nearest city, Inverno. They now had their sights set on the next target, the city of Ziben. 

After a few small skirmishes near Ziben, the subjugation force finally entered the city. 

Soon, the command meeting was held. Although Kenneth was just a knight of the First Order, he was able to attend the meeting due to his position as a representative of the Zahard family. That said, everyone knew his lowly status within the Zahard family, so he rarely had a chance to speak. 

“There are more monsters than we initially reported. Their numbers seem to be multiplying faster as well,” said Marquis Sordin, the commander-in-chief of the subjugation force. He held considerable influence in the military. With the lofty title of marquis and a reputation for being neither exceptional nor lacking, he was a rather average commander.

“Well, monsters are like insects. We don’t know which one is playing the king, but given the nature of monsters, they’ll keep breeding and multiplying quickly. If we mess this up, the entire southern plains could be lost.”

Frederick, as always, smiled brightly as he spoke. His tone and demeanor were no different from when he had been joking around with the wizards and soldiers earlier. Yet, no one pointed out his behavior. After all, Frederick was a talent highly regarded by both the imperial family and the Magic Tower, as well as the prized eldest son of the Duke of Abran. 

As long as he didn’t do something utterly foolish, he was in a position where anything he did would be forgiven and acknowledged.

“We need to scout a bit. No need for support from the soldiers or knights—they’ll just get in the way. I’ll pick the patrol members from the Magic Tower myself. Manores, pick four people, including you and Rehana.”

“Understood.”

Even the wizard who had been speaking sharply to Frederick earlier complied immediately with his orders, as if it was the most natural and obvious thing to do.

— *That young brat, acting all high and mighty just because he can swing a sword well.*

— *In the end, he’s just a fool who couldn’t surpass the fake.*

In the knight order, ranks were determined not just by swordsmanship but by various factors such as the knight’s family background, seniority, and position. The hierarchy in the Magic Tower, however, was quite different, and to Kenneth, it seemed strange and fascinating.

Kenneth had been wielding a sword since childhood, spending most of his time training in swordsmanship. His skill with the sword had allowed him to survive both within his family and on the battlefield. 

Despite his excellent swordsmanship for his age, this also made him a target of envy and jealousy. Many knights, especially those from influential count families or higher, saw him as a thorn in their side. 

Kenneth, at nineteen, had reached the level of a Sword Expert. His swordsmanship was his life—his very existence. The sword had worn down his spirit, but it also sustained him. It drew jealousy and isolated him, but it had become his only friend.

Even when he grew weary, he couldn’t let go of the sword. Letting go of life itself would have been easier. 

Many who witnessed Kenneth’s sharp and resolute swordsmanship predicted that he would one day become the empire’s greatest swordsman. The only ones thought to rival him were Hession from the Marquis of Estelle, who was a year younger, and Frederick, who excelled in magic.

Though Kenneth had no interest in such talk and didn’t put much stock in it, there was one thing he was certain of:

No matter where he ended up or what position he reached in the future…

“The Commander is doing a great job rallying the soldiers and knights, isn’t he? I’ll be off to scout now. We can hold the strategy meeting after I return. Let’s go, Manores.”

…he would never shine as brightly as that silver-haired man.

***

Frederick returned from the scouting mission with a handful of bad news.

“Alright, folks. We’ve got some slightly bad news, some pretty bad news, and some really bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?”

His endlessly casual tone made Manores, who was attending the meeting as an aide, frown like a crumpled piece of paper. Still, even he couldn’t deny that the news Frederick brought was indeed bad.

The slightly bad news was that the number of monsters surrounding Ziben City was roughly double the reported figure. It was possible that the initial reports were simply inaccurate, but it was more likely that the fast-growing and reproducing insect-type monsters had rapidly multiplied.

This meant the longer they delayed, the worse things would get for the subjugation force.

The pretty bad news was that Inverno City, which had already fallen, was being used as a breeding ground for the monsters. There were numerous monster eggs spotted there.

And finally, the really bad news…

“It seems the king controlling these monsters is a White Grub. The problem is, it has incredibly strong magic resistance. Other than me, Rehana, and Manores, the rest of the wizards will have a hard time dealing with it. In short, we’re screwed.”

The White Grub was a monster that resembled a giant larva. Its massive body, larger than the average noble mansion, had strong magic resistance, making it one of the top five most hated monsters among wizards. Despite its somewhat sluggish movements, the destructive power from its massive body, along with its devastating beam cannon and high magic resistance, more than compensated for its lack of mobility.

“We’ll need more skilled knights,” was the conclusion reached by Frederick and the wizards of the Magic Tower. Kenneth and several other family representatives agreed with that assessment. However, the commander-in-chief and his followers had a different perspective.

*’Bringing in more knights would take too long! Besides, it’s just insect-type monsters, relatively weak. Requesting reinforcements would diminish my influence in the military.’*

*’Count Axiom would probably demand a share of the credit in exchange for sending more knights…’*

*’With prodigies like Frederick and Kenneth here, surely we can manage somehow.’*

After some brief deliberation, Marquis Sordin decided to proceed with the subjugation using the current forces. He then reconvened the command meeting after persuading the hesitant family representatives with promises of political and material rewards. The wizards, unsurprisingly, were outraged by the marquis’s decision.

“Ugh, Manores! What did I tell you? I knew they wouldn’t listen if we just used nice words. Should’ve put an ice missile right up their faces when I had the chance.”

“Please don’t actually use it!” Manores and Rehana held Frederick by each arm, restraining him as he spoke with a crooked expression.

“Commander, do you want us all to die? Are you suicidal? If you’re so eager to die, I could cast *Hell Gust* right now and end it for you,” he said, his words dripping with malice, despite the formal tone.

Had it been anyone else, such words would have been considered insubordination, but this was Frederick Abran. No one would charge him for disrespecting his superior.

“Rector Frederick, calm down. Do you think I don’t know we need more knights? But even if we request them, they won’t arrive right away. The bureaucratic process alone would take ages! In the meantime, the southern plains’ wheat and barley will be destroyed. Surely, there must be another way?” Marquis Sordin, while not the most skilled tactician, was politically savvy. He understood the importance of the Magic Tower’s strength and poured all his energy into convincing the wizards. His argument—that they didn’t have time to wait for reinforcements—seemed reasonable. After all, the monsters were relentlessly devouring the southern plains as they spoke.

“Insect-type monsters are dumber than animal-type ones. Let’s implement a diversion strategy. We’ll lure out the lesser monsters with as many troops as possible, then concentrate our forces on the White Grub and take down the king quickly. If we do that, we might not need reinforcements.”

In the end, it was the wizards who were convinced.

“Damn it! If things don’t go as you promised, you’re going to regret it!” Frederick stormed out of the command tent in frustration. Kenneth watched as Marquis Sordin, smiling in relief, exhaled a sigh of contentment after the wizards left.

To Kenneth, the diversion strategy proposed by the marquis had many flaws, but he kept his mouth shut. After all, shouting into a void was pointless when no one would listen. In this war, he was merely a sword—nothing more, nothing less. He was swung when needed, without question.

At first, he had fought desperately to survive, but after years on the battlefield, the desire for life had slowly been drained from him. Now, he was alive simply because he breathed, and he swung his sword because he was alive. Whether the chicken came before the egg or the egg before the chicken, the question was meaningless.