Chapter 86
Chapter 86
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 86
Chapter Title: Rolling In Mages
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"Derbal, from today onward, monitor all the magic towers and trading companies. Keep clear records of their tax evasion and dealings in prohibited goods."
"Yes, sir!"
"At the same time, prohibit the activities of information guilds and dark guilds. Any guild members who haven't received formal permission from me are to be arrested and imprisoned on sight, turned into slaves, and their assets seized. Implement this immediately without delay."
"Yes, sir!"
'I need to clean house. Even a massive dam crumbles from a single small hole. Internal enemies are far more frightening than those on the outside.'
A lesson from the many great men's biographies he'd read as a child.
Especially from the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, which he loved most, he'd set his standards.
'The enemies will come soon. Hungry jackals swarming to devour me and Neruman...'
He could guess who his enemies were without looking.
There were already more than one or two.
The magic towers, the empire, the trading companies that had become the rotten standards of the old world—and now even the temples—all were his foes.
But he wasn't afraid.
With his loyal knights, the people who trusted and relied on him, and his own abilities, it was worth a shot.
"How goes the Sky Knight training?"
"We've secured a total of 47 wyverns and 43 Sky Knights."
'Almost 50 already.'
The intact 22 wyverns he'd looted from the Raviter Empire not long ago had played a huge role.
'By now, the rumors must have spread.'
He'd openly landed gold wyverns—symbols of the Raviter Empire—at the Sky Knight base. No way the info-savvy empire hadn't heard.
And the results would come soon.
"As you all know, enemies will soon bare their teeth at Neruman. And only the toughest ones at that."
They knew without being told.
"Those who seek to live must be ready to die, and those who seek to die will live. Face each day with the resolve to fight battles. Stick to your duties. That ends today's meeting."
"Hooah!"
Discipline was ironclad.
Even the playful Raiker saluted vigorously, which pleased him.
"Sir Derbal, stay behind a moment."
"We'll take our leave."
"Good work."
The Sky Knights had fought yesterday and should be exhausted, yet they had to patrol early this morning.
Their sweat was needed more than anyone's for territorial stability.
"Derbal..."
"Speak, my lord."
"Am I doing well?"
"Of course, my lord! You're carving a stroke in continental history unlike any before."
Derbal, his ever-ardent fan, jumped in shock and thrust him into history.
"Haha, thanks. That's what I wanted to hear."
'Studying really is the easiest thing.'
Just like the seniors said—nothing was easier than studying.
You put in the work, and scores and evaluations followed.
Yet here he was, not even of age, lacking in many ways, lording over a domain.
An absolute lord holding the life and death of 500,000 souls.
"By the way, if Habis Kingdom uses yesterday's incident as an excuse for war or seals the border, how much damage would the territory take?"
"I thought about that all last night myself. It's no exaggeration to say Neruman's survival hangs on Habis Kingdom right now. We can't self-sustain on food, let alone cloth, salt, arrowheads—essential goods and military supplies. We can't produce them properly here. If Habis seals the border..."
Even sharp Derbal trailed off, sharing his grim forecast.
'In the 21st century, I'd tunnel through the mountains for a road... Tch.'
Front was sea, sides were jagged peaks, and the rear was hostile.
He wanted to punch through the mountains for a road.
"They won't seal it immediately. Habis's forces are barely at duchy level anyway, too weak to blockade the major trading companies dealing with Neruman. But small merchants, mercenaries, and migrants will struggle to move. Military goods like warhorses will be restricted too."
'We're still at their mercy, huh.'
Even with archmage knowledge and 21st-century civilization insights, one man couldn't transform Neruman alone.
He'd run nonstop, yet results fell short.
'Habis Kingdom won't hold me back. I'll make them the desperate ones.'
Not bravado—willpower flared like a thick candle wick.
Someone once said the best time was when others said it couldn't be done.
"What if Neruman became the main salt producer? Better quality and cheaper than crypt salt or others—what then?"
"Salt, my lord?"
"Yeah, salt."
"Then we'd have no worries about Habis or anyone. Salt consumption already outstrips production; kingdoms stockpile it strategically. Cheap, high-quality salt from us? No Habis could block Neruman."
Derbal agreed.
'I need salt pans. Big, wide ones.'
Easy on 21st-century Earth, tough here.
No way to channel and evaporate seawater.
'Concrete base, cover with black stone. That should...'
Unlike Earth's waste-made cement, this pure-mineral version.
Even toxic, not enough to worry.
"Oh, how many carriages have we secured as ordered?"
"That's... not easy. Your specs need aged kortan wood, but we have no timber here. We'd need to access the Rual Mountains. So we're making do with regular wood."
"Mobilize soldiers if needed to secure timber. Essential for development—stockpile as much as possible."
"Understood, my lord."
'Elves and dwarves' help is crucial.'
Neruman still didn't inspire enough fear.
But as plans bore fruit, they'd change tune.
"And..."
Knock knock.
"My lord, you need to come out a moment."
About to give more orders to Derbal when a knight called from outside.
"What is it?"
"Villagers have come to see you."
"Villagers?"
Odd, per the knight.
'Something important?'
He'd given them the best treatment possible.
Commoners here were livestock to most nobles.
But he couldn't.
Killing casually or treating them as beasts clashed with his belief in shared humanity.
Thus, he protected them more radically than other kingdoms or domains.
And now they sought him.
"My lord, I'll go."
"No. They're here for their lord—I'll go."
But he didn't grant 21st-century free citizen rights unlimited.
Ideology, culture, history's wheel had to turn like Earth's first.
He wouldn't preach democracy to enlighten continentals alone.
Couldn't force a marathon on a toddler's first steps.
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"Greetings, my lord!"
Thud thud thud.
'What the hell is all this?'
Stepping from his office in the order's hall, hundreds of villagers knelt in greeting the moment he appeared.
Dozens of carriages before them.
Loaded with fresh corn, watermelons, fruits, fist-sized potatoes.
"What is all this?"
Not from one or two villages—looks like at least ten.
"From us, a humble token to Neruman's lord, blessed by the Goddess of Mercy. Thanks to your care, we've harvested bountifully for the first time in our lives! These first fruits from each village are unworthy, but our gratitude overflows. Please accept—don't refuse!"
"Please accept!"
The eldest village chief pleaded earnestly.
'Harvest season already...'
Time had flown in a blur.
Months flashed by.
"I'll gratefully partake."
He wanted to bow in thanks, but as their lord, he couldn't demean himself.
"Thank you! Thank you, my lord!"
"Sob sob, never dreamed I'd live to see this..."
Most commoners' lives on the continent were miserable.
High taxes, nobles' inhumane treatment.
Neruman Plain worse—harsh exploitation matched by monster attacks.
They'd never imagined peaceful farming in their lifetimes.
'Hang in there a bit longer. I'll make this the best place to live on the continent.'
Clothing, food, shelter—basics of human survival.
His heartfelt gift.
'But who's those?'
Post-Armis kidnapping, Sky Knight base security tightened.
Among onlookers, familiar mana scent wafted.
"Derbal, bring those in robes to the office."
"Yes, sir!"
Derbal had eyed them suspiciously too—whispered to a knight.
"And check what the villagers need on return. Supply generously if short."
"Understood, my lord."
Grains and fruits worth little coin, but hearts' thanks—he couldn't eat free.
"Select the best for Neran's temple."
Fine produce.
Temple nearby—rude to eat first.
Like Korea's mountain spirits guarding the land, these continental temple elders deserved courtesy.
Basic for well-bred nobility.
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'Mages? Hah, finally showing up.'
Mercs had mages, but no real support.
Supporting mages vanished suddenly; no more enlisted after.
Despite offering grimoires galore.
Today, seven mages appeared—what wind blew?
Traveler robes, swords—third-rate merc look, but mana stench undeniable.
"Mages, huh? Business with me?"
Flinch.
Shocked he clocked them instantly.
"Truly as rumored—you walk the magic swordsman path, my lord."
'Leader?'
Mid-40s, barely 4th circle—nothing special.
Others 3rd circle, barely mage-titled. Ages 30s-40s.
"Asking again. Business?"
Puffed up, proud speech.
"Wondering if your promise still holds."
"Promise?"
"Yes. If we pledge to you, will you provide the high-circle grimoires we seek?"
'Look at these guys?'
Could've come earlier nicely.
Months suffering mage-short in near-duchy territory—solo.
Offered tomes and perks—they ignored, now crawling.
They hadn't believed him.
Mages' tradition: master to disciple, unless tower elite earning high tomes.
A sword-using baron's offer? Skeptical mages naturally doubted.
Existing ones stingier, smart ones outsmarted—like that.
"Why ask?"
Sneer tugged his lips, pricking pride.
Others might welcome; not him.
'Stiff-necked where?'
"Purposely feigning ignorance insults us. Quite displeasing."
"Displeasing? Hahahahahahahaha!"
Bellowed laughter shook the room.
"Did you say displeasing?"
"..."
Bit lips at his question.
Deep humiliation from his manner.
"We came wrong. Rumors said unlike other nobles, but meeting you proves you must see people firsthand to know their roots."
Mid-40s leader spat coldly.
Clean-shaven morning shadow lined sharp jaw.
"Ridiculous lot."
"You bastard!!!!!"
"Grind."
Mages welcomed everywhere.
3rd circle formal? Honored in local domains.
Called ridiculous? Faces flushed, teeth gnashed.
"What makes trash like you think you qualify to speak to me so? Booted from towers or abandoned by masters, scraping scraps, strutting as 'mages.' Hah, you'd piss yourselves fleeing orcs."
"Shut up! Even as Neruman's lord, you no right to say that!!!!!!!"
Taunt snapped reason—roared fury.
Dared before him.
Thwack!
"Guh!"
Thud!
Heavy impact from fist.
Chattering mage clutched gut, collapsed groaning.
"Mm..."
"..."
Sudden violence paled their faces.
"Want to perform before me? Think that weak magic impresses me, strutting before sheepish peasants? Hahaha."
Grinned villainously, glaring.
Couldn't meet his eyes—heads bowed or averted.
"Parading strength sans grasp? Jobless drifters believing numbers embolden you before the strong? Can't even block my Fireball."
Whiiiir.
Circles activated post-speech.
Room flooded with dense mana scent.
"Ugh..."
"Hah!"
"Impossible!"
Sashimi rules thugs; rank rules army—who said?
Mana flex before mages: awe-struck, drunk on density.
'Brats, daring to strut.'
'I'm [name], work hardest, heaven's mercy—grimoire please. Life pledged loyalty.' No trouble.
But pride-blinded evaluators.
Skill-less, pride-full.
"Now know your pathetic skills? 4th circle max, dying obscure vs. orcs/mercs—strutting 'mage'? Tower rejects, masterless—shed pride! Tsk tsk, ashamed same title."
"Stop!"
"Shut it! What do you know judging us!"
"Argh! Kill you!!!"
'Oh ho! Men need grit.'
They knew.
Strut here? Beat or jailed by knights.
Yet snarling fangs at taunts.
Interest piqued.
"Wanna try? Looks like all 3rd circle sans this fool—Fire Arrow? Lightning? Puhahaha!"
3rd circle mages scare peasants, but worlds apart.
Attack peak: Lightning.
Mercs hire for buffs, holds, heals—not fear.
Bladesmen/mercs scoff 3rd circle.
"Scram!"
Icy command echoed.
Shut mouths, glared.
"No good words, schemed entry with 'magic'—what right to stiffen? Saw me jobless trash-battler? Holding 500k Neruman lives, your plaything?!!!"
Absent when needed; few fled.
Now begging tomes—boldly.
"Scram. Don't nurture losers."
He had beastkin mages.
Leap into fire on order.
"W-We wanted to come... But towers ordered: pledge to you, erased from mage stele. We're wanderers, but mages. Mana servants—stele our final trace... Ugh."
Punched mage lifted head, tears streaming—reason uncome.
'Tower... Orc-dicked bastards...'
3rd circle: mandatory stele.
Heard of it.
Mage registry for continental practice.
Erased? Nowhere goes.
"Hah, excuse now? That scrap stele worth ditching life's chance?"
"Couldn't believe! Nobles promised tomes, intros—used us! None kept word to masterless! Tossed coins at best! We crave learning! Mana knowledge above all! Proud mana sons—not shameful lives!!!!!!"
Mage's wail.
Understood.
Even 21st Earth: talent sans connections? Elite hopeless.
Here too.
Elites factionalize, crush sprouts.
"Sorry late. Understand why—judging you're no user-upper took time. If... one more chance... pledge mana-lives to you. Mana-sworn!"
Mana oath.
Break: not dragon-bubble, but haunts casting, limits—mages' absolute vow.
"Lives pledged loyalty! Let us die mana sons!!!!!!!!"
"Grant us!!!!!"
"Ugh..."
Thud thud.
Reversal.
Pride's corpse knelt.
Hot tears flowed.
'Sigh...'
Got it.
Once mage path—no return.
Casting: world yours.
Hope: stronger mana soon.
Sell family for closer mana.
Fellow mages alone know mad passion—hence lab/youth-burning.
He needed mages.
Beastkin combat-specialized, reclusive.
Master ousted: attack affinity.
Kids need balanced diet grow; mages theory/practice/attack/affinity/alchemy.
'Grow them right...'
Mages vital for development.
"Out."
"...Ugh."
"Here we'd rather..."
Suicide eyes at 'out'.
"Ask anyone—temporary tower directions."
"Gasp!"
"Y-You mean us!"
"I'll watch. Prove no shame as mana sons."
"My lord!!!"
Got it—snot-tears streamed.
'Chant "all dead!"'
Accepted—not sweet mana easy.
Sudden hellish training recall.
Gandalf master's life-risk lessons.
'You know tear-soaked boar?'
Ecstatic sobs ignorant.
100yrs ago, continent trembled at Gold-Eyed Death, Idal.
Beyond shameless—demon in human skin, devil pacts, dark knight bros.
Exact payback.
Mana sons reborn never. Unforgettable postmortem...
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 87
Chapter Title: No Free Lunch
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'First build long roads east-west-north-south, then bridges. Defensive forts at key points, new admin units linking major cities, towns, villages.'
Sweet rest? Nah—return, problems piled.
Unsure other kingdoms/domains, but aimed Earth's conveniences here.
'Roads top priority.'
Trucks/machines? Blitz roads.
Flat plain—ruler-straight easy. But crap equipment.
Harsh winter soon.
Wanted rough draft pre-freeze.
'This year pivotal. Raviter Empire, Habis Kingdom—biggest pains.'
No regrets.
Fated foes? Clash inevitable—karma.
Whiiiish.
Wind's hue shifted.
Sun-hot winds now chilled skies.
Rooooar!
Post-inspection, no rest—patrol.
From Denfos city, surveyed salt-flat coasts, road routes.
'Test run?'
Short-term road: magic/spirits idea.
No 21st hi-tech, but god-blessed powers.
"Bebeto, land."
Rooooar!
Swooooosh.
'Whoa! Calm. Not falcon.'
Not teen angst, yet thrill-seeking Bebeto lately.
Land order: wings folded, dive.
'Threatening marriage?'
Heavy wind battered face/body.
Dissatisfied? Expressed full-body.
Whish.
Flap flap flap.
Down 10m, wings wide—light land.
Rooooar!
Male pride: self-praise roar.
'Wait, punk. Fix you proper.'
Overflowing Bebeto power(?).
To safe flight joy: breed-species heaven.
Thud.
Leapt down lightly.
"No rocks—just straight path."
Neruman Plain always awed.
Perfect clime: lush grass/flowers blanketed.
"To pack earth firm... Wind Press!"
Boom!
Memorized 5th circle wind magic.
Incant: blue flash, blasted targeted ground.
Rustle.
"Cough cough."
Dust billowed as earth heaved.
"Damn, not this."
Post-dust: frowned.
10m ahead: wind-crushed depression.
5m diameter, 1m deep sink.
"No good. Road when at this rate?"
Belly-button bigger than belly sure.
Neruman roads thus? Die old unfinished.
"Gnome summon!"
Whirr.
Mana hall sloshed out.
Shuuu.
Foot-dirt lump rose human-shaped.
Mid earth spirit: Gnome.
"Nice meet, Gnome. Help today?"
Nod nod.
Earth-man nodded.
"From here straight there—flat firm cart-road."
Pointed ~100m.
Squirm squirm.
Crunch crunch.
'Oho!'
Order: loyal instant action.
Earth bones cracked; 1m-wide path formed.
'Not bad.'
30cm sink, hardened.
Foot-test: solid.
Perfect.
'Gasp!'
But Gnome distant, path grew—ice-cream melt, mana drained.
'Damn!'
Crunch crunch.
Good: sink/harden. Bad: mana empty feel.
'...Overreach.'
100m 1m-wide: mana hog—grimace.
Gnome moves/power: summoner's mana.
Can't sustain.
'At this, daily few hundred meters tops.'
Mid-spirit power + mana limit: tough roads.
'Conclusion: elves only.'
East-west Neruman: hundreds km.
2-lane width.
'Dwarves aside—isolated elves help? Sigh, lure how...'
Top angler struggled for elf aid.
Millennia wall vs. humans—lone elves. Lure short.
'Elves all spiritists. Aid? Easy finish.'
Regret elves.
Dwarves + elves: paradise quick.
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"Contact Kesmir pirates. New deal."
"P-Pirates, my lord?"
"Sir Derbal, scared?"
"N-No, but..."
Stuttered at 'pirates'.
"They gave Lumicar—fly it back."
"Understood."
"Breakwater there? Safer, thoughts?"
"Fishermen say block that spot—no storm worries. Breakwater: multiples ships safe."
'Fish taste soon.'
Sea dev essential for stable output expand.
Less polluted, un-overfished—arctic-level resources.
500k fish needs: minimal effort.
But dreamed beyond resources.
Blocked-all-sides plain.
Sea route secure: development boom.
'Play right: commerce hub swaying continent.'
Official: pirates no trade.
Reality: no pirates, no other-continent deals.
Enemy's friend—use pirates.
"Lord, that cement..."
"Hm? What?"
"Amazing. Powdered stone rehardens stone-like—repairs fast."
'Wait bit. Better coming.'
Gandalf master's Earth deeds unknown—vast science stored.
Not all use planned.
Polluted air life: Earth enough.
Moderation: paradise needs only.
"Temir slaves trouble?"
Lime/mineral mining Temirs.
"Resistant first—docile now. As ordered: 10hr digs. Three meals, comfy beds—obedient."
'Lucky, bastards.'
Invaded like limbs, bled his land.
Slaves, but no movie brutality.
Beyond rights: families likely—can't beast them.
"Carpenters recruited?"
"Not yet... Few migrants. Last month: ~300 vagrants."
'Fewer expected.'
Not balloon-populate.
Most freefolk nobles' slaves.
Plus infamous Neruman rumors.
Sane folk no flock.
"Buy slaves."
"Pardon?"
"Slave traders abound continent—buy all via them."
"All...?"
"Families ok, old ok. All fetchable."
"Understood."
Whirrr.
Cliff overlooking harbor with Derbal.
Salty sea breeze toward him.
Hot head cooled.
Sunset-back, small sails returned.
Peaceful sight.
Sea-cool smile curved lips.
Grateful today's safe sunset...
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"What? Wyverns from Habis flying in?"
"Yes. At least 10 crossed border just now."
"10?"
'Jeez, mere 10?'
Too few for foe.
Habis knew rumors—wouldn't send weak.
Waiting.
Empire count or not—cross border: unforgivable crime.
"Not normal wyverns. Habis royal: five spears, shield crest sighted."
'Not enemies then.'
Quiet lately odd.
Much thinking, daily villager/chief carts trendy visits.
Holy water seed disinfect: no pests, lifetime bumper.
Pure hearts: best yields gifted.
Filled Sky Knight granaries.
Peace brief.
Habis coming.
"Guests—Zenith sir, escort."
"Yes, sir!"
Knight saluted, out.
"My lord, others today too."
"Oh right."
'Perfect timing.'
Kesmir Lumicar two days post-send.
Week later visit notice.
Today: that day.
"Mess up: bad rumors."
Derbal fretted my deeds.
Enemies everywhere—pirate ties rumor atop? Grimace.
"Derbal, my home saying."
"...?"
"First punch hurts less; fated fight—strike first."
"..."
Eyes wide, parsed.
"No worry. Best way."
"Sorry, my lord. Overthought ominous."
Grinned at Derbal.
Loyal: due counsel.
He had magnanimity for straight-talkers over sweet.
Sans topic-blind yapper.
"Fine. Prep guest welcome. Important folk."
"Understood."
'Bored—perfect.'
Whale-empire squeezed Habis.
Proclaimed kingdom, pirate-mocked Kesmir Sea Kingdom.
Neruman lord me—bully alliance perfect.
Our deeds? Others sneer sure.
Losers showboating.
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Whirrr.
'Heh heh, nostalgic.'
Temp tower: wide Sky Knight prefab corner.
Mana condenser inside: mages' pained faces—odd thrill.
No sadist, but payback instinct alive.
"Learnable?"
"Y-Yes, very."
Gesan? Leader-mage.
Week endured well.
"Good. Real start now. Holding better expected."
"..."
Known pain: mana condenser.
Build muscle: dumb lifts first. Mana: expand hall.
Easy gain? Pay price.
'Taste of death. Heh.'
Near-pro meat-level torment.
Tough-lived mages held—but 'start' twisted faces horribly. Not me-only view.
"Oh! Special: high-circle tutors from today. I'll help sporadically—busy for one-on-one."
"L-Lord, such care... Truly..."
Forgot pain, overcome with emotion Gesan/mages.
"What, this much? Mana comrades sharing fate now."
"...Thank you, my lord..."
'Thanks? Heh, cherish one day at least.'
"Come in!"
Yelled outside.
Swish.
Double-door: five shadows entered.
"Gah!"
"Called, master?"
Short-tongue beastkin Hashipot always.
'Amazing study zeal.'
Humans incomparable focus beastkin.
Strong bodies, poor magic uptake.
Effort—not tricks—filled gaps.
'You all dead now.'
No narrow mind, but not saint.
Stunned mages: silent prayer.
"One circle up each—in month."
"Gasp!"
"Fail...?"
Beastkin/mages gaped at me.
Fresh grin their way.
"No more magic."
"Got it, master. Will do."
Resolved Hashipot/beastkin.
"..."
Chilled by resolve: mages shivered.
"Good luck."
Waved, turned from dazed mages.
'World got freebies? Heh.'
Fast-grow mages: my body rests.
Done nightly Blest Spear rune-etch.
Not doll-eye glue—tiring unpaid.