Chapter 123
Chapter 123
"It seems Duke Jordan has finally stopped his scheming."
"That bastard probably doesn't have the energy to spare anymore. The elites on both sides are now clashing head-on."
Logan responded with a cold smirk to his father's words.
Had Jordan still had the resources, he would've sent assassins again and again.
Three months had already passed since the night raid.
Half a year since the civil war began.
The central front, stretched long between the north and south, had gradually shifted toward the middle.
And now—
"Right. They're on the back foot, so they don't have the luxury to worry about us."
Even a blind man could see that the Second Prince Faction was clearly losing ground.
After suffering heavy losses in a major battle, their central front had been pushed back relentlessly until they barely managed to hold the line at the Twin Fortresses—the border between Walterheim territory and the royal demesne.
Only when the war reached their doorstep did they finally muster the strength to resist.
And even then, they had already lost one of the Twin Fortresses.
"Prince Romain and Duke Jordan must be seething, wishing they could grind our entire family to dust."
The MacLaines had seized Vifros Castle and five other fortresses under its influence, entrenching themselves firmly.
From Vifros' perspective, even if they had preserved their elite forces, their supply lines had been effectively severed.
In such a situation, maintaining Vifros' military strength meant other factions within the Second Prince's camp had to shoulder the burden entirely.
'The Second Prince Faction was doomed to lose anyway—this just sped up their downfall.'
It was a natural progression—and one that aligned perfectly with Logan's intentions.
His earlier concern that the war might tilt too quickly before his family was ready had been unfounded.
Recently, both factions' leadership had paused to regroup, and the MacLaine family had grown even more motivated after the events three months prior.
And thanks to that...
"Not something a knight should say, but... thanks to this civil war, our family has grown far stronger."
As his father said, the family's military power had skyrocketed.
By recruiting knights from fallen minor houses, their numbers had surpassed pre-Tomodo Castle levels, exceeding 170.
The crossbow cavalry, which had dwindled to around 700, had more than doubled, now maintaining a force of 1,500, including knight trainees.
Regular soldiers had swelled to over 3,500.
Though there were differences in training and quality, in sheer numbers, they had already far surpassed the old MacLaine forces.
Moreover, nearly 10,000 volunteers from ten territories—eight fortresses and two towns—were undergoing regular militia training, and the numbers were still growing.
'Still not enough for an expedition, but more than sufficient for defense.'
And—
Whoosh.
A faint surge of Force condensed at Logan's fingertips, taking the form of a small blade.
Force Blade.
This power, synonymous with the pinnacle of swordsmanship, wasn't merely about shaping Force into a weapon.
It was about transcending mere amplification—wielding Force itself as a physical force.
Force becoming both weapon and armor.
Logan was now completely accustomed to this state.
"Hoho. Seems you've surpassed me in this short time."
"Not quite."
Logan awkwardly laughed at his father's humility.
Though he had grown familiar with this realm, he still couldn't even grasp the Fourth Form of the Divine Sword Secret Art—Blazing Severance.
'But even this much...'
All his planned preparations were progressing far faster than expected.
He almost felt grateful to Duke Jordan for sending those assassins.
"Which means it's time to put it to proper use. I just wish that would come out a little faster."
"Huh? What are you planning to use? Don't tell me you're—?"
Patriarch Padrig's smile froze mid-sentence.
Instead of answering, Logan lifted his gaze toward the northeastern sky.
"To end the civil war."
"...End what?"
"The war."
"Son, I get that you're fired up, but our family's forces are still nothing compared to the kingdom's full military—"
Logan's smile didn't fade even as his father's voice grew urgent.
And before long, the news he had been waiting for finally arrived.
"It's finished?!"
"W-Well, not finished finished, Master. Just a prototype. No need to pressure them like that—"
"Where is it? In the Magic Tower?!"
SLAM!
"...Such a bad habit."
Sigh.
Hamar stared at the abruptly shut door and let out a long exhale.
"Who am I even talking to...?"
"Ugh... ughhh..."
"Does it hurt somewhere? Stop groaning."
"Those bastards live no matter how messed up they get. What's the point of a weak dwarf like me living? Tch..."
"Why did you drag me here of all places, Workshop Master? Huh?"
"Shut up! I'm not dying alone! You helped make that thing too!"
"You never even told me what it was! Just ordered me to manufacture it! And now you bring me to this—"
"Both of you, shut up!"
"Ghk!"
"W-We'll shut u—ghk!"
Hamar had dragged along another dwarf just like himself—
Ah, right. I bought him.
Logan sighed softly as he glanced between Hamar and the one-armed dwarf, their antics nearly identical.
Still, now wasn't the time for reprimands. With a sharp glare, he silenced the two with sheer killing intent.
Clayton, who had been scanning the surroundings, suddenly stiffened before signaling to Logan.
"Found them. Goblins."
"Everyone, quiet."
At his command, the group hidden in the trees froze, minimizing even the slightest movements.
Below, in the distance Clayton pointed, a pack of goblins was approaching their position.
Six low-tier monsters like goblins could be wiped out with a mere gesture by either Clayton or Logan.
The problem was where they were.
"M-Master, do we really have to test it here? If we kill them and the noise spreads, a whole horde will come pouring out!"
Hamar's trembling was justified.
"That's what I'm saying! Why did we have to come to the Southern Mountain Range?!"
Tamere's hushed but panicked whisper was equally understandable.
With the forests at the base of the mountains cleared for MacLaine Town's construction, they were now at the entrance of the Demon Realm—the Southern Mountain Range.
All to find a few low-tier monsters.
"They say the monsters here are a tier stronger than elsewhere..."
"Why here of all—"
"Want to do it yourselves?"
"..."
The dwarves finally shut up.
Logan had brought them along so they could witness any flaws in the prototype firsthand, but they were quickly becoming a nuisance.
"One more word, and I'll give you front-row seats to experience the product's power—and its shortcomings. A premium spot where you can feel the monster's breath."
Only after seeing the dwarves' faces turn blue did Logan nod at Clayton.
Whoosh.
Clayton's mana stirred, and in an instant, a golem no taller than a person materialized on the ground below their tree.
A small, weak golem by Clayton's standards—one that wouldn't harm him even if destroyed.
The golem picked up a few blue stones lying nearby and stood up, gripping them in both hands.
"Kyarrat!"
"Kyarararak!"
As the goblins spotted the golem and charged, the stones in its hands began to glow red-hot.
Then, without hesitation, it hurled one directly at the approaching pack.
The group watched with bated breath.
The moment the stone left the golem's grip felt agonizingly slow.
And then—
Crack!
"Kyahk?! Gack—pukhak hak!"
A goblin dodged the stone and pointed at the golem, laughing—
Before everyone frowned and sighed.
But then—
KABOOOM!!
A deafening explosion engulfed a 5㎡ radius in flames and shockwaves.
"Kyyyyaaaak!"
Five goblins died instantly. The sixth, slightly farther away, avoided instant death but writhed in agony as flames consumed it.
"Gya... ruk."
After a few stumbling steps, it collapsed, reaching helplessly at the air before going still.
Even for monsters, the desperate struggle for life at the end evoked an odd sense of guilt in the onlookers.
But the one most responsible for their deaths clenched his fist and cheered.
"Nice!"
"..."
"..."
"..."
"What? Why?"
When the group glared at him, Logan scowled back.
The battle-hardened mercenary from his past life felt no sympathy for monsters.
All that mattered was the destructive power of Liberatio—the bomb that incinerated even the malice of monsters.
"N-No reason."
"Just needs a slight adjustment to the activation time. About 0.5 seconds?"
"...I'll take note."
"That noise will draw more goblins. We have enough for volume testing, right?"
"...Yes."
At their sluggish responses, Logan sighed sharply and shot them a cold look.
"The world's better off with fewer monsters. Stop overthinking it. Same goes for you, Master Clayton. You of all people should know—"
"...Of course, Lord Logan."
Ahem.
Clayton coughed slightly late in agreement.
—Kyrarak! Kyrarak!
From deeper in the forest, familiar screeches grew louder.
The single-shot power had already been confirmed.
Now, they needed to test overlapping explosions and simultaneous detonations in wide areas to gauge synergy effects.
And the results were just as satisfying.
BOOM!
KABOOOOM!!
"KYARAYAAAK!!"
Three hundred goblins that rushed out upon hearing their kin's demise met their end under a barrage of a hundred bombs.
Even a hobgoblin—classified as a low-tier monster—couldn't withstand two consecutive explosions.
The extermination of an entire goblin tribe took barely an hour—most of which was spent waiting for them to swarm.
Of course, there were minor complications.
"Young Master. The forest is catching fire."
"Good. Let the monsters burn—wait, no, that won't work, will it?"
"Monsters whose homes are destroyed will descend the mountain."
"Put it out! Now!"
The unexpected firefighting was just a minor hiccup.
[KYAAAAAAAH!!]
A strange roar echoed not from the mountain's edge but from deeper within.
The commotion at the entrance seemed to have awakened a predator lurking further in.
The sound froze Logan and Clayton's expressions stiff.
"Hey! Run!"
But the dwarves stood paralyzed, faces pale with terror.
"Damn it!"
A monster whose mere distant roar could terrify a top-tier Force user like Logan and a mage of equal standing—
They had no desire to see what that was.
Logan hastily slung the dwarves over his shoulders and bolted, while Clayton cast Land Slide, his fastest movement spell, to keep up.
Only after fleeing the Southern Mountain Range did the roars fade, allowing the group to sigh in relief.
"Whew. Well done, Master Clayton. Good work, Hamar."
Logan's praise was genuine.
The bomb—Liberatio—crafted from mere materials and fragmented memories outperformed what he remembered from his past life.
'At least 30% more effective.'
Another trump card against the Empire's threat had been born.
"It's absurdly efficient. This is truly..."
Even Clayton, its creator, could only mutter in awe.
Liberatio's power matched 2nd-class magic—yet cost only about 50 gold, 1/20th the price of a 1st-class scroll.
The invention had eliminated the fundamental reason most nations couldn't deploy scrolls en masse in war.
"But why do you look so conflicted?"
"...Just greed, I suppose. Wondering how it'd feel if this were purely my own creation. Hah, an old man's ramblings."
Because its origins lay in another's knowledge, Clayton couldn't fully rejoice.
"Hah. Honestly, I had high expectations, but this exceeds them. Far better than what I've used before. You've created a masterpiece, Master Clayton. Take pride in it."
"Master, what about m—"
"Not at all. If anything, I learned much from those materials. What I've realized is merely a fraction of that knowledge. If I could fully grasp it, I could create countless magical items far more cheaply."
Logan's eyes gleamed at Clayton's words.
He couldn't say it outright, but that was what Logan truly desired.
Liberatio was immensely useful in combat, but it was just one small branch.
"You'll achieve it. This alone will completely change the face of war."
"Thank you for the encouragement."
"Master, what about my—"
"So how long until we fix the flaws and start mass production?"
"...Hey!"
"A week should suffice—just need to adjust the material ratios."
"Then I'll leave it to you."
"Hey! What about me?! After all I've—"
"Hamar, you did well too."
"Master Hamar, your efforts are appreciated."
"Huh... huuuh..."
The sudden praise left him speechless.
'This'll flip everything. Thinking a mage did it all? A craftsman's pride...'
Indignant, Hamar's face flushed red and blue.
"I—!"
"One month's vacation as a reward if we hit the target volume."
"...I'll work hard to finish as fast as possible, Master."
An instant change in attitude.
Tamere snorted at the shamelessness, but Hamar just grinned.
'You don't get it yet, kid.'
A 20-year slave contract.
Only three years had passed, but it felt like thirty.
So when the devilish master offered a vacation, he'd snatch it without hesitation.
Throw a tantrum, and that vacation could turn into another labor-filled "dwarven romance."
And a whole month at that!
For a laborer suffering endless toil, vacation was far more precious than pride.