Chapter 119
Chapter 119
Pant... Pant...
"I—I can't believe I'm getting used to—huff—this insane training. It's depressing."
"Thanks for saying—huff—what I wanted to say..."
The moment they arrived at the knights' training grounds in town, most of them collapsed on the spot.
The attendants, who had been waiting with fresh horses, rushed over to drag them away—but most of the knights didn't even have the strength to get up.
However, a few stubbornly forced themselves to stand, slowly stretching their aching muscles. One even managed to pick up a wooden sword again.
"Those—those relentless bastards."
"Relentless? More like insane. They'll wreck their bodies at this rate."
"They must not have hit their limit yet."
"Ugh... monsters."
The minimum age for a full-fledged knight was usually over thirty.
This wasn't unique to the MacLaine Knights—it was common across most knightly orders, given the typical age of awakening.
So, it was only natural that three teenagers stood out like sore thumbs.
Most of the MacLaine Knights, having fought alongside them in war, already acknowledged these three as future prodigies. But for outsiders seeing them for the first time, the impression was entirely different.
"Aren't they just kids? They don't even look fully grown."
"Are they geniuses?"
"And one of them's a girl... Wow, she's beautiful."
Dylan, who had blurted out that last thought without thinking, immediately shrank under the glares shot his way. But the general sentiment was the same for all three.
'Fascinating.'
Ronian, Victor, Ellen. They had led the charge in training and still looked the least exhausted.
But their youthful appearances—and, in Ellen's case, her gender—bred prejudice.
And in that moment, Heinkel spoke up.
"The test is simple. Choose one knight to prove your skill against. Win or lose doesn't matter—just demonstrate your ability, and you pass. Though, admittedly, those three are the most skilled among us."
The moment those words were spoken, the gazes of the three recruits inevitably turned toward the "young knights" stretching nearby.
'No matter how talented they are, at that age...'
Especially right after that grueling training session.
'They must be exhausted.'
The recruits' preconceptions, built from years of experience and appearances, blinded them to reality.
All three chose one of the trio—and Heinkel nodded, as if he had expected it.
"New recruits' sparring. The designated opponents are Ronian, Victor, and Ellen."
Again?
The moment Heinkel's voice rang out, Ronian's expression twisted slightly.
The recent influx of new knights.
The sparring matches that followed Heinkel's sadistic training tests.
Whether it was coincidence or Heinkel's subtle encouragement, most chose Victor or Ellen...
And the rest?
They always picked him.
'Well, maybe it's because they know I'm from the MacLaine family and go easy on me.'
If not for that, he might have been the first choice even more often.
Honestly, it was a little irritating.
Because it meant they still saw him as weak.
'I'm growing bit by bit, but...'
He still didn't measure up to his father, who stood nearly two meters tall—or even his brother, who was around 180 cm.
If only he were a little taller...
"No, no. It's not that. They just see me as an easy target. I'm still weak."
His muttered words, meant to stoke his fighting spirit, made the nearby knights flinch.
"W-We didn't!"
"Young Lord! We would never—!"
"What kind of nonsense..."
Currently, the most avoided sparring partner in the MacLaine Knights wasn't the "Gray Devil" Victor or the "Berserker" Ellen—but this seemingly harmless young lord.
"If I look weak, I'll be a burden to my brother..."
"There it is."
"That phrase. Ugh..."
"Shudder. Gives me chills."
'My brother.'
Every time the young lord muttered those words, someone ended up carried away—and didn't return for a long time.
Thus, the nickname that was funny... but not really.
Ignoring the knights' horrified expressions, Ronian walked toward the unfamiliar faces.
"I regret nothing, but to prove my skill—"
"Enough. Come at me."
Click.
The moment Ronian emotionlessly readied his wooden sword, Dylan's face twisted.
He had planned to go easy on the young lord, considering his exhaustion, and earn some points.
But this level of disregard changed things.
'I have my pride too.'
Gritting his teeth, Dylan gripped his wooden sword.
'Let me show you how vast the world is, noble brat.'
Without so much as a shout, he closed the distance in an instant.
His signature move—Lightning Step—was what earned him the nickname "Swiftblade" among his former comrades.
He had even used this surprise attack to take down a mid-tier knight before.
Against an exhausted kid like this...?
CRACK!
The sharp impact made him smirk—just as expected.
But then—
Twitch.
'Why am I the one in pain...?'
Only after realizing his own face was spasming did the searing pain hit him.
It was only then that he noticed—his wooden sword hadn't landed on his opponent's head. It had barely grazed past.
And by then, his vision was already fading.
'N-No... Just a little more...'
Thud.
"How was he, Young Lord?"
"Good footwork."
"Hmm."
Heinkel smiled and nodded at that response.
Compared to answers like 'Trash.' or 'Throw him out.', this was far better.
'He passes.'
Rather than having a superior like himself evaluate them, having someone closer to a peer (?) give feedback resonated more with the sprawled-out knights.
It also helped new recruits integrate better with the existing members.
That was why Heinkel had insisted on these sparrings lately.
"Next!"
Heinkel gestured at Tenan and Jacob, whose faces had stiffened at their comrade's humiliating defeat.
By now, they must have realized—with painful clarity—that they'd made a terrible choice, swept up by subtle encouragement and the atmosphere.
'Too late.'
Tenan lost his sword in a single exchange with Victor and was sent rolling across the ground.
Jacob, grinning foolishly at Ellen, took dozens of hits before being carried away, his body limp as a ragdoll.
'This one's mentally unstable. Fail.'
Once again, MacLaine's young blood proved their growth—and the knight order's numbers swelled.
'MacLaine grows even at this very moment, Grand Prince.'
Everything was satisfying now.
And it was impossible not to think of the one who had orchestrated all this change.
His prolonged absence was starting to worry them a little.
But fortunately, the moment Heinkel had that thought—
The man himself had already entered the town.
"Nothing happened?"
"Is that surprising?"
"No, it's just weird that it's been so quiet."
"Almost sounds like you want something to happen?"
"No. It's just strange that it's been this quiet. Obviously, I'd prefer nothing happened."
"Huh? What did you just—"
"Enough. I have things to do!"
Bang.
Shaking off the clingy Rick, Logan tilted his head in thought.
'It's past the time when things should've started happening.'
The fact that nothing had exploded yet was unsettling.
Honestly, no trouble was preferable.
Logan wondered if he'd been worrying too much as he quickly washed up and left his room again.
He had planned to rest after returning, but curiosity got the better of him—so he was already on the move.
Casually slinging the large travel bag he'd carried for ten days over his shoulder, Logan headed toward the town center—the magic tower.
Rustle.
"What's all this?"
"Ah, research notes and books from a certain mage's lab. Thought you might be interested, so I brought them."
His tone was casual, but his expression screamed 'I'm more interested than you.'
"...So you want me to check the contents?"
"Hmm. Well, if it's promising research, you can study it yourself. As long as you produce good results, I'll reward you handsomely."
"It's not confidential material from another tower, is it?"
"Absolutely not! It belonged to a mage who picked a fight with me and died."
Well, I did seek him out first.
Hiding his thoughts, Logan grinned. Seeing his employer smile while talking about killing someone and looting their belongings made Clayton laugh dryly.
"Right. Well, then there's no problem."
"I'll leave it to you."
"Understood."
As Clayton turned away with a smile, he noticed the presence behind him hadn't moved.
Glancing back, he saw his employer staring intently.
"...Aren't you leaving? Do you have other business?"
"Ah... Any chance you can tell right away? About the contents?"
Hearing that carefree tone, Clayton felt his temper flare uncontrollably.
"Right now, Your Highness is busy with that damn bomb development. If you pile this research on top, it'll slow things down even more. Are you fine with that?"
The stress from that cursed bomb leaked into his tone.
He expected Logan to back off naturally—but the answer surprised him.
"Hmm. That's fine. Just check if there's anything useful in these notes first."
At that, Clayton became certain.
'This is what he disappeared for.'
The story about killing someone who picked a fight and looting them was probably false.
'Well, if he killed everyone who picked a fight, he'd be a madman.'
Mentally noting his employer's penchant for morbid jokes, Clayton sighed and nodded.
"I'll prioritize reviewing these notes as quickly as possible. Will that suffice?"
"Please."
Only then did Logan turn away. Clayton shook his head and sat at his desk with the materials.
But just three days later—
"Jackpot! This is a jackpot, Lord Logan!"
An excited Clayton knocked on Logan's door.
"...What is it?"
"The materials you brought! They could revolutionize the magic world!"
Logan's face brightened at Clayton's exclamation—though the mage's expression wasn't entirely positive.
"But there's one problem."
"Huh? What problem?"
"This is extremely important, so you must be honest with me, Lord Logan."
His intensely nervous expression made Logan swallow hard.
"Go ahead."
"Are you sure you didn't take this from another magic tower?"
What now?
Logan laughed dryly and shook his head.
"Absolutely. Not."
"Sigh..."
Despite the firm denial, Clayton's expression didn't change—forcing Logan to ask again.
"What's wrong?"
"The contents alone are groundbreaking, but... this isn't something one person could've researched alone. Even a genius would hit limits working solo... Sigh..."
"What's it about that's got you like this? I swear on my honor—it's not from another tower."
Despite Logan's firm assurance, Clayton hesitated for a long moment.
Then, in an extremely cautious tone, he spoke.
"It's a method to permanently imbue ordinary metal with magic. There are still flaws, but the foundation is solid. If this is completed..."
'Got it!'
The theory created by the Mage of Slaughter had fallen perfectly into his hands.
And more—
"Also, even in its incomplete state, this theory could significantly advance the bomb project you mentioned."
Seeing Clayton's tense gaze, Logan silently cheered in triumph.