Chapter 4
Chapter 4
A one-month grace period.
Within that time, the plan to activate the Stellar Melter on Zenith - VI.
I called Grandmaster Quegreg again and explained the current situation in more detail.
“So you managed to sweet-talk the Chief Secretary and buy yourself a month… impressive.”
“Hmm?”
“There are rumors. They say that Chief Secretary woman is a pure demon—an old maid from hell.”
“…Is that so?”
“Yes. She’s in her late twenties now… beyond marriageable age, completely untouched by romance. The capital says she abuses her authority as Chief Secretary without hesitation.”
…What kind of vicious rumor is that?
And it spreads across an entire star system?
Vera’s infamy was truly galaxy-class.
“However, when I spoke with her, she didn’t seem like that. She was angry, yes, but she was rational.”
“Then that is fortunate. As expected, even that witch can’t act freely in front of nobility.”
Those comments were so disrespectful I was half-expecting Vera to turn him into a crispy electric roast chicken.
Maybe it’s a good thing she can’t hear this.
Still… I was a little curious.
If those two fought, who would win?
Vera was a high-ranking psychic monster, but Quegreg was also no ordinary commander…
Anyway, I pushed that thought aside.
“So, is one month enough?”
“…Honestly, it might be difficult.”
That surprised me for a moment.
“…Why?”
“My initial plan was to deploy newly recovered trainee knights, still fresh from enhancement drug recovery, to conduct reconnaissance on Zenith - VI.”
Unlike his earlier “space marine brain” impression, he was now speaking like a proper commander.
Honor, aggression, discipline—and cold strategic reasoning.
That was what a Grandmaster was.
“Reconnaissance and intel gathering first. And giving the trainees real combat experience… standard doctrine. So what’s the issue?”
“If we follow standard procedure… one month may not be enough.”
Military timelines are never relaxed.
Plans must be built, threats analyzed, training conducted.
And now resources were barely being conscripted at all.
But then I had an idea.
“What if we skip reconnaissance?”
Skipping reconnaissance meant skipping trainee deployment training as well.
In practice, it would reduce the operation into two separate missions.
But if we already had the information, one of them could be eliminated.
However, Quegreg shook his head.
“…That is dangerous. Entering an unknown battlefield would be sending trained knights into hell.”
He was right.
Knights do not fear death.
But meaningless death without honor or victory—that they fear.
Even the bravest become cowards when there is no glory to be earned.
Still, I didn’t give up.
Because something had clicked in my mind.
The truth was, I wasn’t supposed to know about Zenith - VI at all.
Rayan’s original story ended as a third-rate villain’s downfall.
So logically, he should never have known about this place.
But I did know.
Even about the Stellar Melter.
Why?
The answer was simple.
Rayan’s storyline wasn’t the only one I had read.
His younger brother—the true “Northern Duke” sub-male lead, Kaneil—had a far more detailed narrative.
And that included everything about the Amirates star system.
And buried within that narrative—
There was extremely useful information.
“What if I can provide accurate intelligence without reconnaissance?”
“…!”
In My Galactic Crown Prince, Zenith - VI and its Stellar Melter were described in detail.
Not its suggestive shape—but the creatures inside it were documented fairly well.
The reason was simple.
It existed to elevate Kaneil, the sub male lead.
Kaneil was stronger than Rayan, the supposed warlord.
He personally led a small unit and cleared the Stellar Melter.
Bringing warmth back to the North.
That kind of power fantasy was standard in romance fantasy novels.
But thanks to that, I had precise knowledge of what lay inside.
“It comes from a reliable source. If you trust me, then—”
“All decisions are yours, Your Grace. Whether I believe you or not is irrelevant. We follow your certainty.”
This guy really is good at talking.
Grandmaster rank wasn’t just for decoration.
“…Then I’ll explain.”
I reactivated the star map on the table.
Zenith - VI.
And its landmark structure—the Stellar Melter.
Its internal layout projected in front of us.
“The Melter has a large internal space, and the temperature inside is significantly higher than outside. If alien life forms survived, they would have gathered inside it. Just as you predicted.”
I manipulated the holographic interface, searching through its functions.
And found it.
A database of alien species.
“The creatures that once occupied this planet are the Krigg.”
I displayed their information.
Krigg lower-class combat units: Riglings.
They looked like dogs covered in exoskeleton armor and spikes.
“Fortunately, most remaining Krigg on Zenith - VI are Riglings. A knight can kill hundreds of them alone.”
“Hm…”
“There are also higher variants like Firelisk, but their numbers are too small to be a significant threat.”
I displayed the Firelisk model next to the Riglings.
A swollen-neck serpent with insect-like legs.
Still not particularly impressive.
And apparently, they weren’t.
“Why are only weak units left?”
“The Krigg are controlled by a hive mind.”
Classic space opera trope.
Insect-like species controlled by a collective intelligence.
The Krigg were no different.
“Fortunately, their hive mind froze after failing to adapt to this planet’s climate.”
“Just as expected. Without the spirit of Amirates warriors, even monsters cannot endure this place.”
That sounded like nonsense, but he said it with full sincerity.
I suppressed a sigh and moved the models closer to the Melter.
The internal structure unfolded in detail.
“If we awaken the Melter, the entire planet’s climate will warm. That will also awaken the frozen high-tier Krigg—and their hive mind.”
“So those are the real enemies?”
I nodded.
“First, the knights clear out the Riglings. Then I lead an escort unit to the core and activate the Melter.”
“Yes.”
“Once activated, enemy forces will counterattack. When their assault slows, we withdraw using a teleportation device.”
“No full-scale battle?”
“We cannot afford one. We are weakened.”
Quegreg clicked his tongue but nodded.
“Understood.”
“Stabilizing the system comes first. Only then can we extract more resources and continue fighting.”
“I understand.”
Then I added one more thing.
“For now, that is the plan. One more request, Quegreg.”
“Speak, Your Grace.”
“Teach me how to use a sword.”
For the first time, Quegreg’s calm expression broke wide open.
“…I beg your pardon?”
After a month of isolation.
The Grand Duke had changed.
That was what Arius Quegreg, Grandmaster of the Winterwolf Knights, thought.
But he had changed too much.
Or perhaps… this was the real him all along.
A duke who once raised an invasion army just to abduct a woman.
A man born into a warrior bloodline who had never once trained with a sword.
A drunk who lived soaked in alcohol daily…
No matter how you looked at it, he was the definition of a scoundrel.
If his parents had lived longer, this man would never have become Duke.
But after returning from war and isolating himself for a month…
That scoundrel had disappeared without a trace.
Had he gained enlightenment through drinking?
Quegreg seriously considered adopting “alcohol meditation training” as a method.
But now he had a far more immediate duty.
Teaching the Duke swordsmanship.
“…We will begin tomorrow.”
Even though he knew the Duke had changed, he didn’t expect this much.
This wasn’t simple laziness.
It was arrogance—born from Fenrir bloodline pride.
That was also why he avoided training.
So asking for instruction meant even that arrogance had been set aside.
Quegreg had no idea how to process that.
He spent the night unable to sleep.
The next morning.
The training grounds aboard Glory of the Wolf.
Quegreg arrived with tired eyes.
And found the Grand Duke already there.
Practicing sword swings.
“Hah… hah…”
Controlled breathing.
Perfect discipline.
A monster built from bloodline and enhancement drugs.
Even knights enhanced with drugs didn’t reach that level.
But more important was—
“He… he came early?”
The knights watching were equally stunned.
“What’s gotten into him…?”
Quegreg cleared his throat.
“Grandmaster.”
“Yes, sir!”
A captain-class knight approached.
“The Duke requested sword instruction. You are not needed here.”
“Uh… Grandmaster, we’re off duty today.”
“…”
Quegreg felt a headache coming on.
‘What do I do.’
Sword training required sparring.
That was Winterwolf doctrine.
Which meant… he would have to beat the Duke senseless.
And if the knights saw that?
If the Duke got offended?
A 50-year military career.
And this was the worst crisis yet.
‘Screw it.’
He made his decision.
Worst case, he still had retirement pay and an extended lifespan from enhancement drugs.
He preferred battle—but a soldier’s duty wasn’t just fighting.
It was serving the nation.
“Your Grace!”
“Ah, Quegreg.”
Rayan wiped sweat from his forehead and smiled.
Quegreg took a deep breath and picked up a training force sword.
“Your Grace. I teach by hitting first.”
“Hmm…”
The Duke didn’t look pleased.
But if he had looked pleased about being hit, that would’ve been worse.
“Come at me.”
He raised his sword.
Awkward. Rough.
But still—he was Fenrir’s blood.
A born fighter.
Quegreg inhaled slowly.
Then—
“Ha!”
He moved.
BOOM!
A non-lethal shockwave burst from the training blade.
And the Grand Duke was launched into the air.
‘…That’s not good.’
Quegreg stared blankly.
Thud.
The Duke hit the ground.
Dust rose everywhere.
The knights began whispering.
“We’re screwed.”
“Our Grandmaster is done for.”
“Military career’s over.”
“Are we next?”
As the dust cleared, the Duke slowly stood.
“Sir… I apologize. Let’s stop here for today…”
“No.”
He brushed off the dust.
“Not nearly enough to justify all the enhancement drugs I’ve consumed.”
He raised his sword again.
“One more round. I’ll break it down this time.”
No anger.
No wounded pride.
Only will.
Only hunger to overcome.
Quegreg smiled.
Yes.
So the Duke was a wolf after all.
“Then—!”
He raised his blade once more.