Don't Let It Go to Waste

Rowen was tending to his duties in his office when a knock rattled the door. With a casual wave of his hand, Arahan smoothly opened it. Two men stood outside. They looked utterly exhausted, but more than that, their eyes held the dazed shock of those who had witnessed something truly miraculous. They were the scouts sent to Kaliaarun and Winterer.

"You're back sooner than I expected," Rowen remarked.

"It was all thanks to the great mage's magic, my Lord."

"...So the experiment was a success."

"It was magnificent, sir."

"The flow of time stopped for everything except us. It was an unbelievable spell..."

"You did well."

For a scout to survey an entire continent and return in a single day was normally an impossibility. But when Mio's time magic was involved, the rules changed. Do you remember the massive temporal formula she used to slow down the demon human Tesiah? By briefly twisting a rift in time, she could slow down the flow of the world for everyone but her target. The one who had mastered this feat was none other than Mio Lizfeldt. It was not a spell ordinary people could ever hope to cast.

Her current residence was Valenos Castle. The past two years had given her more than enough time to research the formula. She called the process Crystallization—condensing the complex rune language of a spell into physical crystals so that even non-mages could easily trigger them. The effects didn't last very long, but they lasted more than enough for a scout's mission. Under the guise of scouting Arkanthia, this had also served as a live test to prove the efficacy of her crystallization. The scouts returning with a successful report meant the experiment was a resounding success.

Well, Rowen had only known about the research because Mio had offhandedly mentioned it before she left for Pandemonium. Regardless, it was a good thing, as he could now review the data the scouts had gathered. Rowen took the transparent vial the scouts handed him and gently poured its contents over a blank map. Particles of mana drifted down, smoothly coalescing into a three-dimensional projection of Arkanthia. Sirayunsul's eyebrows twitched.

"It looks a lot different from what I imagined," she noted.

"This is nothing. If you go to Pandemonium, they're crawling everywhere."

"Have you been there?"

"...I read about it in a book once."

"Hmm...?"

Sirayunsul shot him a suspicious look. However, Rowen had no intention of revealing his reincarnation; it would only breed unnecessary confusion. He quickly averted his gaze before her doubts could grow. On the map, the projection of Arkanthia began to glow a deep crimson as the terrain gradually took shape, projecting everything the scouts had observed. Rowen found himself marveling at Mio's genius all over again. This was a spell even he didn't know. Currently, only four people were present in the room: Rowen, Arahan, Sirayunsul, and Miyabi. Even if they consulted ordinary exorcists or soldiers, it was highly unlikely they would come up with any viable strategies.

The crimson-stained Arkanthia lay before them. Such was the nature of magitech. To put it simply, it was a mechanical empire. The fundamental energy powering those machines was magi. It was a truly demonic concept—wielding overwhelming technology to toy with humanity while insidiously corrupting them with magi without their knowledge. That was likely how Arkanthia had slowly lost its original form. Rowen carefully studied the detailed layout of Arkanthia. The harbors were completely blockaded, guarded by magitech soldiers whose bodies had been forcibly augmented. He could see the glint of rune fragments on them, though the soldiers themselves likely had no idea those runes were actually triggers to unleash magi.

"To wage a full-scale war, we'll have to cross the sea by ship," Rowen said.

"But wouldn't they spot us immediately? They even have flying ships."

"That's the problem. Our aerial forces are practically non-existent. Even if our soldiers summon ice dragons like they did before, their time is strictly limited."

"So they're a joker card..."

Rowen placed a marker bearing the symbol of the North onto the map. If they could break through the stormy seas, they could reach Kaliaarun. While the northern continent of Winterer was geographically closest to Arkanthia, launching an attack from Kaliaarun would allow them to strike from a completely unexpected angle.

"To be completely honest, magitech itself isn't a major threat to me," Rowen said.

"Oh?"

It was a statement of fact. He was far stronger now than in his past life, when he had smashed golems without a second thought. Valenos—the guardian deity of the North, the progenitor of Rowen's family, and the Spirit King of Ice—had formed a direct contract with him. With that power, magitech posed no real danger. The true threat lay elsewhere.

"The real threat is the Prophets," Rowen explained. "I spent the last two years building up my strength. Do you really think they were just sitting on their hands all this time? The fact that they left the North alone means they had their own plans."

"Meaning they've been building up their strength as well?"

"Exactly. I highly doubt Lucifere, the Demon King of Depravity they worship, has just been idling by."

Rowen recalled what his father had told him in his past life. Leandry Rose had said:

He could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠still picture his father laughing heartily as he spoke. To the young Lian, those words had been hard to grasp... but now, after forgetting what truly mattered and losing those dearest to him, he finally understood their weight. Regret was useless. The past could not be undone, and the departed would never return. That was why he could speak with such certainty now. He could take his father's warnings with the utmost seriousness.

"It's not too late yet," Rowen said. "If we can kill them before the year is out, we can prevent a catastrophe."

"Bastard son. I don't know what makes you so sure of this," Sirayunsul said, "but you're saying all we need to do is take them down within a year, right?"

"Yes."

And there was one more crucial detail.

"Arkanthia was Muron's domain, but I already killed him."

"I know."

"According to what Tesiah said, the others couldn't care less about Arkanthia. What matters is their actual stronghold..."

Rowen glared out the window. Beyond the snow-capped mountains, a massive island floated in the sky.

"The Pentagon."

"The former Imperial Capital, huh? Lucius is going to weep when he hears this."

"...We have to go there."

"Is it for revenge?" Sirayunsul asked. "Revenge for Lord Kadan's death?"

At her question, a surge of hatred boiled within him. That place was so distant, yet closer than any other. Simply opening the door to the underground vault in Snow Fall would reveal a portal leading straight there. But he could not let himself be ruled by this emotion. The cause of Kadan's death was a golem, and the one who had crafted that golem was Muron. The moment he killed Muron, his vengeance for Kadan had reached its conclusion. After all, Muron was the one who had unleashed magitech upon Arkanthia in the first place.

"No, not right now."

He wasn't heading to the Pentagon for revenge.

"Magitech is standing in my way. So I'm going to smash it."

It was an obsession that had carried over from Rowen's past life: erasing everything tainted by magi from the face of the earth. He had completely obliterated ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠every trace of magitech once before. Doing it again wouldn't be too difficult. He placed a demonic seal over Arkanthia on the map, then set the seal of Winterer over Kaliaarun. Next, he traced a path from Kaliaarun to the rear of Arkanthia. The three-dimensional projection shifted, vividly displaying the detailed layout of Arkanthia as recorded by the scouts.

"With Muron gone, their military command structure must be in shambles."

Just as he said, countless mechanical soldiers were running frantically through the projected streets. In one corner, factions were actively clashing, drawing their demonic blades ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠against one another. They were likely locked in a power struggle. The magi radiating from their magitech had undoubtedly corrupted their minds. He was certain of it. Anyone could see they were at each other's throats.

"This chaos is our opportunity."

"So we strike from the rear instead of a frontal assault."

"Exactly. It's also a way to bypass the stormy seas."

Sirayunsul narrowed her eyes, studying the map. The rear of Arkanthia—the side closest to Kaliaarun—was indeed poorly defended. There were structures that looked like the castles of local nobles, but they appeared entirely abandoned. However, the real problem was...

"Can we actually transport our entire army there?" she asked.

"We have ships."

"Not enough to carry everyone. When my brother Kael led his expedition to the edge of the North, the troops he took with him never returned."

They had all been turned into undead. Corrupted by the frost magi, they had become a dark army bound to Belphegor's commands. This meant the ships used for that expedition were lost forever. They had likely been frozen solid by the heavy snowstorms and battered to pieces by the harsh waves.

"And under our current circumstances, we can't build new ships," Rowen added.

"Are you short on materials?"

"As you can see, the trees in the North are completely frozen and waterlogged. The timber isn't sturdy enough."

It was the inevitable result of the barren environment and the King of Frost.

"...And?"

"Yunsul, we're allies, aren't we? We might not share Kadan's blood, but we share the bond of being raised under his care. Right? I trust you can do this much for us."

"You certainly have a silver tongue."

"We should help each other out in times of need, shouldn't we? Besides, I heard rumors that Kaliaarun has timber to spare. Supplying some to the North doesn't sound like a bad idea."

He had the upper hand. They were supposed to help each other. Surely she wouldn't refuse a request from her dear younger brother?

"If something goes out, something must come in," Sirayunsul countered. "Bastard son, what are you going to give us in return?"

...Tsk. She was a tough negotiator. Well, she wasn't wrong. A favor for a favor. Without a moment's hesitation, Rowen spoke.

"How about the mana stones that grow in the Soul Spring?"

Sirayunsul's beautiful, long brown hair fluttered in the breeze blowing through the window. She placed a hand on her hip and scratched the back of her head. The offered compensation was far too grand. It was incredibly sudden, and she hadn't expected anything of this scale.

"But that's a holy relic," she said. "It's far too valuable compared to a mere shipment of timber."

"Forget it, just take it. It's not like I have any use for it anyway. I've lived perfectly fine without using them so far."

Valenos reacted with even greater outrage. The spirit's frantic screaming in his head was getting incredibly noisy. Rowen tapped his temple.

Shut up, Valenos. Your opinion doesn't matter right now. Besides, what's the point of hoarding them? We don't even use them. Might as well sell them off.

I know mana stones are rare. They only grow once every hundred years. But I literally have no use for them.

Magic swords? What was the point when they didn't even have magic swordsmen? The North was a continent of magic. It was the sanctuary of mages and the home of the Magic Tower. Granted, there had been an era when many magic swordsmen wielded enchanted blades. It wasn't that magic swordsmen didn't exist at all now, but rather that none of them actually used physical magic swords anymore. Thanks to Arahan's brutal training, the northern magic swordsmen had all learned to imbue their weapons with elemental attributes dynamically—a combat style very similar to Rowen's own.

None of our knights use magic swords. Maybe if it were me, but I already have the Holy ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Sword.

Yeah.

Why are you throwing a fit over a single stone? Fine, if you don't want to, then don't. I guess we'll just hand the North over to Arkanthia.

At those words, Valenos flinched. The spirit was genuinely horrified. A devilish shadow seemed to cast over Rowen's face. It was an utterly absurd sight. A hero of the light possessing the cunning malice of a demon—the world was truly coming to an end! Rowen needed to put down that Holy Sword this instant!

Isn't that blasphemy?

The God of Destiny has a higher divine rank than you.

Rowen took a short breath. A long, weary sigh escaped Valenos.

Kadan raised me. And as for pride? It's nothing a little bending can't solve. If swallowing my pride secures the winning card for this war, why should I care?

Well, your opinion doesn't matter anyway. I'm giving it to her.

What, motherfucker? If you're so pissed, why don't you manifest? Oh, wait. You can't even come out without my permission, can you? Bwahaha!

Valenos, just sit tight. Your opinion doesn't matter. To win this war, I'll use every means at my disposal—even if it means tearing away a piece of you.

Exactly, so just stay quiet. The continent won't collapse just because we lose one stone, will it?

Rowen smiled brightly as he mentally gagged Valenos. Though the spirit struggled to the very end, Rowen was the master of his own body. The Spirit King Valenos could do nothing but weep in silence.

"What's the point of hoarding it?" Rowen said aloud. "If we don't use it, it's no better than trash."

"Bwahahaha!"

Sirayunsul watched Rowen as he suddenly burst into laughter, scowled, and then laughed again. She simply stared down at him as if he were a complete madman. As she watched him, was it just her imagination, or did she catch a faint glimpse of someone weeping silently in the background? Feeling as though she had stumbled upon a secret she was never meant to know, she had no choice but to agree to Rowen's terms.