Chapter 115
Chapter 115
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 115
Chapter Title: My Soul's Oxygen Respirator
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Flap, flap, flappity-flap-flap-flap.
"Heh heh heh..."
The vigorous flapping of Bebeto's wings against my butt.
A satisfied smile lingered on my lips.
The three days at the Temir temple had flown by in an instant.
I'd gotten to witness the entire process of turning the captured wyverns into usable mounts.
'Not something you can do every day.'
Catching wyverns was easy, but taming them was another story.
First, they staked the captured wyverns to the ground, securing their entire bodies, then fed them water.
Not regular water, but water mixed with the shamans' blood.
It had been shocking to watch.
The shamans slashing their wrists and filling large buckets with their blood.
Nearly thirty shamans at the temple filled a huge bucket to the brim.
Then they diluted it with water and fed it to the wyverns.
'Not just anyone can become a shaman.'
I now understood another reason why the Temir revered their shamans.
Even though they used the shamans' blood this way, they couldn't use it again for at least three months after.
I didn't know the details, but some specific component took a long time to regenerate.
That shaman blood wasn't just for wyverns—it was also bottled like talismans and distributed to the tribe.
That was how monsters and magical beasts were kept from daring to invade.
It was possible only because they were true descendants of dragons, not just in name.
Monsters—no, all creatures of the middle realm—feared dragons.
Even after thousands of years of genetic dilution, that blood hadn't faded.
Surely other dragons had wandered the human world and created offspring along the way, but the Temir were special in some way.
It seemed Dragon Tarkania, who loved her children enough to use that expression, had employed some secret method unknown to others.
'Little one, I'll put 'em to good use.'
I turned my head to look at Bebeto's rear.
Flap, flap, flappity-flap-flap.
About twenty wyverns, roped together like a string of Vienna sausages by their legs, trailed behind Bebeto.
Just days ago, they had been wild, ferocious monsters.
Now, they flew meekly behind him like lambs.
Red shamanic marks etched onto their bodies.
'That's some hardcore stuff...'
The marks on the wyverns overlapped in my mind with Roko Roia's pale face.
Using tattoo tools made of mithril, the shamans had inscribed the marks onto each wyvern's body one by one.
And they used blood drawn from the little one's wrist.
'I'd die before doing that.'
For two days, they drew blood from her wrist until it stopped flowing, then had her drink holy water to stabilize before drawing more.
Incredibly, enough blood for twenty wyverns had come from that tiny body.
'What if she stays forever flat-chested?'
A sudden worry popped into my head.
She wasn't some blood factory machine—what if they were overdoing it on a growing sprout like her?
Holy water was great and all, but it had limits.
'No such thing as a free lunch in this world.'
Roko Roia, the young Temir who dominated her tribe with her immature body.
She was enjoying today's glory by selling(?) her blood.
Kuuuoooooo!
Bebeto, with twenty wyverns dangling from his ankles, let out a mighty roar toward the front.
'They've come to greet us.'
All that was visible was endless white snowfields.
Then, atop the snowfield, ten wyverns appeared.
It was the wyvern squadron stationed at Oracle Castle.
They must have gotten word from the surveillance outpost we'd passed.
Shiiiiiiek.
As we approached within about a kilometer, they naturally split into two groups to await me.
Kiyoooooo!
Kauuuu!
The wyverns bellowed long cries upon spotting their new comrades.
You guys are grunts now too...
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
"Keep information under control for the time being."
"Understood, my lord."
Shailt Knight, the defense commander of Oracle Castle responsible for Neruman's northern front, nodded.
The picture of a loyal retainer.
Just looking at him inspired trust.
"I'll send you knights who are likely to become Sky Knights soon. Take responsibility for training them."
"My lord, what if the Temir attack during training? Wouldn't that be dangerous?"
"Don't worry. The Temir won't invade the territory for the time being—no, perhaps forever."
"What do you...?"
'I can't say it exactly.'
He probably knew I'd been in contact with the Temir lately.
But he didn't know I'd become the Great Guardian Warrior.
'Hah, Great Guardian Warrior...'
I'd figured out why the little one called it her dowry.
According to Kanta Har, son of the Aishin tribe, the Great Guardian Warrior was a sacred position that protected the Grand Shaman spiritually and materially with body and soul(?).
In other words, I was the pillar husband to little Roko Roia in that role.
'Can't back out now. Tsk.'
As dowry, the little one had bled to procure wyverns for me.
And crucially, the little one and I had shared lips and I'd left my mark on her pure flesh.
'Whatever happens, happens. Not like it's one or two.'
Now I was at the point of resignation.
Even without her, there were already one or two women I was responsible for around me.
I didn't want to think about it until the territory stabilized.
I'd bury it quietly for now.
"Just follow orders."
"Yes, sir!"
Shailt Knight barked "Chuu!" at the word orders.
"Have you moved all supplies to Heighton Village?"
"Yes, my lord. All your instructions have been completed."
"Then recall all soldiers guarding it. No one approaches Heighton Village for the next week, and no patrol flights either."
"As you command, my lord."
He didn't need to be told twice.
That was a proper knight.
One who could die on his lord's order—that was a knight, and Shailt was worthy of the title.
He might have all sorts of thoughts about my orders, but he never voiced them.
Just watching him was reassuring.
"Any separate requests for me? Speak if you need anything."
"No, my lord. We have more than enough supplies. The knights, soldiers, and territory folk are all satisfied."
There was nothing left to supply anyway.
Even the knights on the front lines had been prioritized with weapons produced in the dwarf village, which were hard to come by.
I'd also sent plenty of wheat and foodstuffs.
'Time to head back.'
The Skywing Squadron hangar was full, so no room for more wyverns. I'd decided to leave twenty here at Oracle Castle as emergency forces.
Given the winter season and its position on the northern front, with no merchants or mercenaries coming through, it was perfect for hiding wyverns at Oracle Castle.
An ace up the sleeve no one knew about.
A hidden dagger you always needed in life.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
Clang! Kaaang!
Mana-charged deadly swords clashed, blue mana sparks flying everywhere in the sparring hall.
"Hah!"
With a shout, a single sword plunged into the flustered knight's guard like a raging beast.
The knight panicked for a moment.
He could block it with his skill, but the reckless charge made him hesitate—swinging might injure the opponent.
Puk!
"Guh!"
But that brief hesitation was repaid with a groan as cold metal plunged into his gut.
"Hahahahahahahahahaha!"
As the sparring knight collapsed, refreshing laughter echoed through the vast underground hall.
"No other knight to face me?"
Not even checking the fallen knight, the mad beast scanned the waiting knights.
"Hmph! And you call yourselves Imperial Guard Knights, protectors of the Empire and the Imperial Family? Tsk tsk."
The Guard Knights bore the emblem of the Bazran Empire's symbol, the black wyvern, etched into their silver armor.
Despite Crown Prince Poltviran's humiliating sneer, no one stepped forward.
No matter what anyone said, the man before them was their lord, whom they served with their lives.
The Guard Knights were used to these occasional spars.
"Treat him."
Tadak.
Though the sword had pierced deep into his gut, the Imperial Family's overflowing top-grade holy water made recovery possible anytime.
Waiting attendants rushed over, stripped the knight's armor, fed him holy water, and applied it to the wound.
A bottle worth at least dozens of gold vanished in an instant.
"Annoying..."
After the spar, Poltviran grimaced while personally removing his gauntlets.
Thinking of his father, the emperor, whose condition was worsening rapidly and unlikely to survive the winter, set his heart ablaze.
Even as the next emperor-to-be, a crown prince was not yet emperor.
He could do anything he wanted now, but Poltviran raged at his unfulfilled desires.
"Your Highness, a fine item has been prepared."
Viscount Silvron, always scratching Poltviran's itch.
Not even an attendant, yet he held a towel and fanned another of Poltviran's desires.
"Tch, not another one who bites her tongue like that wench a few days ago?"
Poltviran clicked his tongue at the quiet viscount's words, but his eyes gleamed.
"No need to worry about this one, Your Highness. Fresh from Hildrian. Untouched by any man's hands."
"Oh ho, a cold Hildrian girl, eh?"
"Indeed, Your Highness. Cold on the outside, hot within—a true Hildrian specimen."
"Then prepare her."
"She's already waiting in your chambers. Fed Arpo's aphrodisiac—just embrace her when you go."
Poltviran's face lit up at Viscount Silvron's sweetly devilish whisper.
"No one like you, Viscount."
"You're too kind, Your Highness."
The two exchanged wicked words.
Hot desire bloomed in the Imperial underground sparring hall, once thick with killing intent.
In the heart of the Bazran Empire's Imperial Family, the seeds of imperial ruin grew unchecked.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
"Ugh! That bastard!"
In the Raviter Empire's Imperial Palace.
A man ground his teeth with eyes closed.
"Your Highness, please endure just a little longer. The order to mobilize will come soon."
"A little longer, a little longer! How much more must I endure? My heart is burning black with rage! I'll tear that bastard's skin off with these hands!"
Second Prince Alskane erupted with murderous fury.
He'd watched the Haviss Kingdom's subjugation army, only to hear of their humiliating defeat.
A force no bigger than an imperial county had crushed the noble army of Haviss Kingdom, dispatched on the Empire's secret orders.
A complete victory, no less.
"It will have to wait until spring. Besides, he's a Bazran Empire count. We can't move rashly. Please be patient, Your Highness, and this humble servant will handle it."
Duke Yanobis, who had left his territory and stayed in the capital lately.
He soothed his grandson's rage.
'Because of that guy, Alskane's turning into a fool.'
Second Prince Alskane, his soul corroded by the unprecedented terror of death.
Unable to contain his fury, he was growing increasingly violent.
Just what the Crown Prince faction wanted.
'I need to deal with him. Might as well use this chance to clean up Neruman, including Haviss Kingdom.'
The Empire needed to expand its territory.
For decades, it hadn't waged any major conquests, and couldn't accommodate the swelling nobility.
Useless infighting was breaking out among nobles.
The power that should vent outward was building up, on the verge of explosion.
A necessary war, even without the Second Prince.
And justification aplenty.
Exiled nobles from Haviss petitioned to restore the Empire's honor, and that Neruman lord brazenly owned a gold wyvern—the clear evidence.
Either alone justified Haviss invading Neruman.
But the season was the issue.
War wasn't child's play; from soldiers to supplies, logistics, strategy, tactics, and the emperor's and high nobles' approval—problems galore.
'Start by using the Loen Dukedom to stir border issues with Haviss. They've had border disputes since ancient times.'
Haviss Kingdom couldn't be left alone.
Most of the recently exiled nobles had sworn loyalty to the Raviter Empire.
If they were gone and Bazran-friendly factions rose, it would be troublesome.
'Fortunately, now while the Bazran emperor lies ill is our chance.'
If he set his mind to it, conquering Haviss would take a week.
But the problem was Bazran Empire, bordering Haviss.
The kingdoms watched warily, as Haviss served as a buffer between the two empires.
A strategic hotspot where greed lurked, risking all-out imperial war.
"Understood. I'll wait until spring. But if you haven't handled it by then... I'll petition Father for mobilization myself!"
Current Raviter Emperor Hardberaya von Raviter III.
Called a tyrant by some, a wise ruler by others—his temperament was hard to pin down.
Rumors said he was the only current emperor or king to reach Blade Master.
"As you wish, Your Highness."
Preparations had been underway for a while.
Come spring, when the ground thawed, the Raviter Empire would roar to the world.
Proclaiming the might and valor of the continent's finest: the gold wyvern's glorious flight.
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
'Home sweet home, after all.'
I'd returned from the Temir temple with top honors and treatment, but I preferred my modest Skywing Squadron.
Riding Bebeto, we'd arrived above Denfos City.
Snowflakes were starting to fall lightly.
"Ho ho ho ho ho."
"Hah hah hah hah."
'Huh? What's that?'
Heading contentedly to the Skywing base, a scene caught my eye.
It was packed.
Despite the cold keeping people indoors, one spot outside the city drew nearly ten thousand people.
Mostly children and their parents.
Their joyful laughter reached even the sky.
'Armis...'
There she was.
A goddess-like figure, protected by white-cloaked paladins up close.
She was serving food.
'It really turned into a sledding hill.'
I'd ordered it, but I hadn't expected this popularity.
In the past, kids and folk never played in winter due to monster raids, cold, and hunger.
Now they joyfully used the sledding hill I'd made.
A heartwarming sight.
Their happy faces alone cheered the soul.
"It's the lord!"
"Waaaaah! The lord is here!!!!!"
Someone shouted at me, followed by the territory folk's resounding cheers echoing like thunder.
Kuuuoooooo!
Bebeto roared on my behalf to announce our presence.
Shiiiiiiek.
Without orders, he landed near where Armis stood.
Clang.
Hundreds of knights and soldiers protecting the children instantly formed ranks.
Boom.
Bebeto's massive landing shook the ground.
"Chuuuung!"
The soldiers' hearty salute roared the moment we touched down.
"We see you, my lord!"
The commoners knelt eagerly too.
No one ordered it, but the folk and soldiers treated me with utmost respect.
Embarrassing, but delightful.
Click.
I unfastened the safety harness and hopped lightly to Armis's side.
"You're back."
Armis gifted me a single word and a radiant smile.
Her brown eyes brimmed with deep joy.
"Everyone, rise."
I ordered the kneeling adults and children alike to stand.
I wanted to share a hot reunion with Armis, but too many eyes watched.
"But what is all this?"
In this public, official setting—not just us—I used honorifics with her.
Armis was revered in the territory almost as much as me.
"Without your permission, I asked Deron to share food. I'm sorry."
Sorry for what?
'For you, what's a little food?'
Not just Armis.
Hundreds of women among the folk prepared food like in a massive restaurant.
Just warm soup and bread, but packed with care—the aroma was divine.
"May I have some?"
"Ho ho. Of course."
Armis's soup station.
In her white apron, she looked adorable and cute.
"The lord eating the same food as us..."
"Our gracious lord."
Sledders hungry from play got meals here.
Seeing me eat like them moved some folk to tears.
'What’s this fuss over? Ahem.'
In Korea, I was just a normal middle-class kid.
Who said it? Rich or poor, everyone eats three meals and shits in the toilet the same.
"Here."
Armis scooped warm soup into a wooden bowl and handed it with a smile.
"How about tonight? It's been a while—night flight?"
"Y-Yes..."
She glanced warily at the distant paladins after my arrival, then sent our secret signal.
Her cute face blushed rosily as she nodded.
'Heh heh. This is why I live.'
All my stress melted away.
Neruan's saintess, Armis.
She was the oxygen respirator for my soul, irreplaceable in my life.