Chapter 26
Chapter 26
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 026
Chapter Title: Retire
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The first thing he did after waking up was receive a report on the battle situation.
"Knights Brad Cahill, Honern, Drain Hussle, Rayner Cus, and Havent have fallen in battle. Only Landiv survived, but he's unconscious."
Even though he'd braced himself for it, hearing the news of his own death from someone else's lips was horrific.
"And the soldiers?"
"......"
Benjamin hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"Wiped out. We only managed to recover about a hundred wounded."
"Nngh."
The group formation that had been invincible against orcs was powerless in the face of overwhelming numbers. The moment the strength left the hand holding the shield, death was inevitable.
"You've done well. I think I'll rest now."
"Yes. Then."
"Ah, wait a moment."
Benjamin turned back as he was about to leave the room.
"How did things go in the capital?"
"Unfortunately, we didn't get an audience with His Majesty, but we spread the word mainly among my academy classmates, so I believe it will create a sufficient stir."
"Good work. How long ago did you return?"
"I got back five days ago, received a report from Cavalry Captain Nil Carpenter, and immediately mobilized the troops..."
"I see. One more favor."
"It's no trouble at all. Give me your orders."
"I'm sorry to ask this of you right after your return, but go to Brennenton."
"You mean your family home?"
While he'd been away in the capital, his fellow knights and soldiers had been annihilated, and his lord had been gravely wounded again. Not being there felt like a sin, and his heart wasn't at ease.
"I can't afford to leave again. Send a messenger instead."
"To convey my true intentions, you need to go. Report the battle situation as it is. Exactly as it happened."
A moment later, Benjamin spoke, his face etched with worry.
"Reporting it as is will be fatal to the succession struggle."
"What changes if we hide it? Better a foolish loser than a sly coward."
Declaring defeat was fatal even for a vassal, but Benjamin didn't show it. Instead, his expression was inspired by his lord's boldness.
"I shall obey your command."
"Get as much support as you can. If they don't respond, warn them that Brennenton will become the frontline. And..."
He caught his breath, as if short of air.
"Sell off all my assets. Everything."
"You mean your personal fortune?"
"Estates, jewels, carriages—everything. Bring the hired help and slaves. Dismiss or sell those who refuse."
"Are you serious? Please take more time to think it over."
Even after confirmation, he didn't waver.
"They're useless if I die anyway, aren't they? Using them to console the fallen will help extend my life more."
"Ahem. Hm."
Benjamin cleared his throat awkwardly.
"It will also help convey your sincerity."
"Right. If it takes time, force it on my brother."
"I will make it so."
Benjamin bowed rigidly, worry in his eyes.
"Please stay healthy until then."
"You too."
Clank.
Silence flooded in as the door closed.
Thinking and speaking a few words had overloaded him, and his head throbbed.
"Looks like I need more rest."
What use were tasks when his condition was more important? If the fortress would fall from a few days' rest, better it collapse now.
After that, he focused on recovery.
Eating, sleeping, and light walks—gradually, he felt his body improving. Time passed like that.
The season shifted from a brief summer to an even shorter autumn.
"The sweltering heat is finally over."
No one welcomed summer's heat in a land of long winters. The man harboring two souls gazed up at the clearer sky.
Swish swish swish.
Dry leaves fell with a rustling sound.
The time spent resting and awaiting recovery was also a period of self-awareness that dispelled the confusion between the two souls.
He concluded that the dragon's magic had been aimed at possession. Of course, that wasn't all.
'This wasn't just simple possession.'
The hand the dragon had extended to the boy had changed the outcome.
If the dragon's magic had induced possession, the original soul's consent led to fusion.
Yet the dragon's magic was flawless.
Despite the unexpected, the dragon tongue magic perfectly repaired the gap on its own, making it seem like it had always been that way. Unfortunately, that greatness went unappreciated.
In any case, he was now a fusion of two souls. His will as Brad was firm, and his awareness as Arun van Brennenton was clear.
However, Brad's life being nearly three times longer gave it more weight.
This resolved any issues for his new life.
'Reborn—can I become a hero and shake the world?'
He shook his head inwardly.
His status had risen, but the situation remained dire.
Having lived his best life once already, a second round wouldn't yield better results. If the first hadn't been his best, he couldn't give his all the second time either.
Experience was the same. If it made life easy, all elders would be sages.
'A hero? No chance.'
His past life with a dragon friend had held more hero potential.
A new body didn't change that his abilities were limited to Brad Cahill's 55 years and Arun van Brennenton's 20. Still just human.
The urgent task was adapting to the new body.
'From now on, I am Arun van Brennenton.'
To live in this flesh, he needed the original owner's name. Arun's soul grasping his hand counted as consent.
'A 20-year-old body still dies with a sword thrust.'
Training the body was familiar. His past days were battles, hunts, scouts for safety, or sword practice.
He started with light jogging.
Circling the manor or climbing stairs stabilized his breathing first. Then he realized his prior breathlessness came from not matching the young body's tempo.
With stable breath, his movements smoothed. Next, the sword.
Shing.
He drew Arun van Brennenton's beloved sword.
Fitting for royalty, it suited his hand perfectly.
Whoosh.
A sharp whoosh cut the air.
Clank, shing.
Sheathing and drawing flowed smoothly.
"Size and weight perfect for this body."
Good bloodline and training yielded impressive results. The slender frame hid a swordsman's lean muscle.
He stepped with the sword.
Basic forms soldiers learned, Brad's battle-honed techniques, Brennenton family styles, and Arun's academy drills—by sunset, he'd finished.
"Huff, huff."
A 20-year-old body was miraculous. Breath ragged, but muscles showed no fatigue.
"Half a day immersed. Amazing."
Trained knights swung for 30 minutes, an hour saving stamina, then collapsed. No plate armor, but still remarkable.
For cooldown, he stripped his upper body and ran.
Beyond the manor courtyard, downhill to the sunset streets. People dodged or bowed. Sweat-glistened torso gleamed red in the light.
"Huff, huff."
"Isn't that the Third Young Lord? Nice build."
"Shh, he'll hear. But isn't he a bit skinny?"
"Nonsense. That's lean muscle. Not for labor like us, but optimized for killing."
"Hoo."
Men were intrigued; women blushed.
"Hoo, hoo."
Using the fortress gate as turnaround, his breathing stabilized. Back at the manor, fresh energy surged like reserves unlocked.
He called loudly for the squire.
"Pendersen! Where's Pendersen?"
"Yes, Master."
"Control access to the manor from now on."
"Ah, what about meals?"
"No meals or cleaning until further notice. Give the servants leave."
"Understood."
He leaned against a tree in the garden center.
"Hoo, hoo."
Gradually, he sank into meditation.
Digesting old wisdom and new vitality, something beyond stirred. Half-lidded eyes recalled the world through dual souls' gaze.
Pupils blurred, consciousness sank.
Surroundings faded; his inner universe unfolded.
Another dimension. He hadn't imagined such vastness inside. Dust motes in light held universes too. He swam the new world.
Endpoint: enlightenment.
Flash—insights swirled.
Lifelong sword arts dismantled, restructured. Waves of repetition.
Not once; each shifted interpretations. Indescribable truths and optima flooded, ebbed, returned.
How many cycles?
Kaboom, rumble.
Sudden lightning tore inside.
Conscious barriers burst; blood and flesh swirled in agony like remnants' screams. Long, brutal—but new truths healed, filled.
Yet outwardly, leaning on the tree, he seemed peacefully asleep. Time crawled.
Autumn morning's chill wind woke him.
Eyes opened to enlightenment's afterglow.
"So this is it."
Higher vision made the world clear. Body and surroundings organically linked, granting freedom.
Enlightenment reshaped thought.
Unworriable from worrisome separated; priorities and countermeasures dissolved most anxieties.
What of physical power?
Shing.
Gripping the drawn sword, he tensed.
"Hup."
Veins bulged on his hand; eyes bloodshot.
"Huff, huff."
Flushed face paled. Nothing happened.
"Tch, legends are just legends."
He grumbled.
No aura burst or cleaving foes' swords with overwhelming presence.
Loosening up with swings revealed changes.
'Faster, more precise. Feels like...'
Free from time and space—striking desired point, angle, position effortlessly. This simple truth was swordsmanship's pinnacle.
'Won't lose in raw power anywhere.'
Clank.
Sheathing, his steps lightened.
"Pendersen! Where's Pendersen?"
"Yes, Master. C-Congratulations."
Squire Pendersen knew swords. He admired the changed aura around Arun.
"Take congratulations in food. Bring a meal."
"Preparing it now."
"And check on Nil's status."
"......Pardon?"
"Nil Carpenter, the cavalry leader. His condition, location—find out."
"Ah! Yes, sir."
The empty barracks felt desolate.
Sunlight through half-open windows stirred dust motes; abandoned bunks littered with ownerless gear and trash.
In one corner, a drunk sprawled with bottles.
Snore, wheeze.
"Rise and shine. Time for battle."
"Mm, gasp."
Nil bolted up, glanced around, scowled at the visitor, and flopped back.
"Not in the mood to talk to you right now, Young Lord."
"Rude."
"What did you expect?"
Languid, annoyed, with a thread of reason.
"Challenge you to a duel? Officially vent your anger?"
"You'd actually face me?"
"Hardly. Just means I'm prepared to pay with my life."
"......Nngh. Give me a moment."
"Sure."
Soon, washed Nil returned, dripping.
"Good, empty-handed."
"......?"
The one wearing Arun's face patted his sword hilt.
"Thought you might choose duel. Not hoping for it."
"Haven't lost my reason that far."
No soldier outlasts a knight one-on-one, experienced or not. Knights were bred for humanity's combat peak.
"Good. Someone once praised that cool head of yours."
Light sparked in Nil's dull eyes.
'He's hooked.'