Worlds Conquest

On the first day of May, Ryan summoned the soldiers belonging to Viscount Randa and informed them that they could return home.

Over the past two months, Ryan had gradually transferred the oversight of the orc slave camps to Brand. Now, with grain from the Imperial Trading Guild on the way, Ryan graciously provided these troops with two meals a day as part of the handover.

This would ensure that the orcs wouldn't rebel for the time being. And by the time their savage instincts awoke again, they would no longer have the strength to oppose the Frozen Wastes.

A few days later, Irina from the Razor Rose Trading Company returned to the Frozen Wastes to bid Ryan farewell.

"From now on, our company will come to the Northwind Province every spring. Don't forget to sell me your iron ore then, Lord Ryan."

Irina leaned in with a charming smile, and Ryan casually extended his "demonic hand" and pushed her away.

"Of course. The Razor Rose Trading Company is my friend. Give my regards to the Countess."

"I don't have the privilege of meeting her personally," Irina replied. "But I'll pass along your message."

As she spoke of the Countess, her eyes sparkled with admiration. She then shot Ryan a resentful glance.

She had hoped to solidify her relationship with Baron Ryan before departing—just to ensure the Frozen Wastes' goods wouldn't end up in other hands.

But Ryan ignored her look. His blood was boiling—not from excitement, but from energy. Judging by his condition, he was on the verge of breaking through to become a Bronze Knight, and doing so without using any life elixirs.

At a critical time like this, how could he let a woman like Irina derail his progress?

I must endure!

After seeing Irina off, Ryan spent the following days refining his inner strength. His whole demeanor grew deeper and more imposing.

Though still slim and handsome, Ryan now seemed like a fully armored knight. In daily life, he even crushed fragile items by accident, unable to fully control his newfound strength.

Then finally, ten days later—at dawn, standing atop Rhinoceros Horn Mountain—the moment came.

A deafening dragon's roar tore across the heavens, erupting from his surging life force. In that instant, all sound within the Frozen Wastes vanished. Even the insects and wild beasts in the forest fell silent, cowering under the pressure of dragon might.

Scarlet battle aura enveloped Ryan, gradually forming the illusory image of a ferocious, winged dragon.

He had broken through—becoming a Bronze Knight. And the density of his battle aura far exceeded expectations.

At the foot of the mountain, Harrington's eyes blazed with fervor. As a scion of the Rimehart family, he recognized the signs—Ryan had advanced using the Flame Dragon Knight Breathing Technique, and his use of it was exceptionally pure.

The purest version of the Flame Dragon Breathing Technique was designed to mimic the power of a real dragon. To become a legendary knight like Count Rimehart himself was to be, essentially, a human-shaped dragon.

High on the mountain, the dragon's image on Ryan's body slowly faded. His long hair draped over his shoulders, and he now felt like he could devour an entire ox.

Back at the partially repaired but livable castle, the waiting maids began serving dish after dish. But Ryan wolfed it all down in just a few bites.

At last, his hunger—dragon-like in its intensity—subsided. Ryan had finally stabilized his breakthrough as a Bronze Knight.

"Knight breathing techniques really aren't so hard."

Scarlet aura flickered at his fingertips. Ryan grinned in delight.

Then he summoned Brand and Harrington. Once he fully adapted to his new strength, he opened the Dimensional Gate once again.

This time, it was just the three of them.

The orc slaves still needed guards, but now that all three were Bronze Knights, their power surpassed that of thirty soldiers. They weren't worried.

The sun shone warmly in the Frozen Wastes, hinting at the coming summer. But upon stepping through into the Eksnel Continent, they were met by a bitter winter chill—even the bright sun overhead could not soften the piercing cold.

Crunch.

Their boots crushed frozen snow beneath them—so solid and dry that not even sunlight could melt it. But at least they didn't have to worry about sinking into it.

"Looks like this world will never be warm again,"

Ryan murmured as he wrapped his cloak around himself.

Brand's eyes darkened. This was, after all, the world he had once lived in. Watching it slip closer and closer to eternal stillness filled him with sorrow.

"It's already this cold now… I doubt many people will survive this winter."

Harrington added. He had been here before, and the memory was still fresh in his mind.

Fortunately, the rare sunlight guided their direction. They walked south. After nearly two hours, they were shocked to see a splash of green in the distance.

Trees. On the continent of Eksnel, trees were still growing, untouched by the snow?

But farther ahead, they saw the silhouette of a city—and Ryan understood.

The City of the Forge—the last warmth in the snow-buried continent of Eksnel. They had reached the farthest southern edge of the world.

It was said that even the ocean beyond the city had been frozen.

"Let's go take a look—at this last patch of warmth."

As they approached the city, Ryan felt a faint warmth in the air—still colder than the Frozen Wastes, but vastly better than the north of this world.

"There's no snow here."

Near the city walls, the ground was no longer frozen. The dirt bore thousands of hardened footprints—evidence of the many who had come before them.

So many people had once gathered outside this city?

When Ryan came within thirty meters of the walls, arrows rained down on him. But Brand raised a hand, caught one mid-air, and threw it back.

A scream rang out from above.

Moments later, several anxious heads peeked out over the city wall.

"You're not welcome here! Leave now or face the consequences!"

shouted the guards atop the wall. They scanned the distance nervously, only relaxing slightly when they saw no one else.

Ryan stepped forward, looking up at the guards.

"I am Viscount Whitman. Open the gate and let me in!"

The name of a noble instantly silenced the shouting. Confusion rippled along the wall. Nobles still clearly held authority here.

Soon, the heavy city gate creaked open just slightly. Faced with a noble—especially a viscount—the guards had no courage to refuse.

As the three of them approached, the guard at the gate finally relaxed, seeing Ryan's refined and noble appearance.

Indeed, he was a noble.