Episode 16

Patrick exhaled a deep sigh as he stared at the door through which his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eldest son had just left.

"I'll prove the reason for my actions within a year. Until then, I ask that you turn a blind eye to what I choose to do."

'How much of this should I believe...?'

Though his son's gaze had been resolute, Patrick found it impossible to trust him.

Yet, he had no choice but to accept the request.

"I beg of you, Father."

It was the first time he had heard those words since that day.

Not during his current erratic behavior, nor even during his past misdeeds—never had Logan spoken like this before.

'A plea...?'

That such a common exchange between parent and child could feel so foreign made Patrick let out a bitter laugh.

But having already wavered and taken a step back, if Logan failed to prove himself after a year...

'I'll have to make a firm decision.'

To protect the family's honor.

Because before he was a father, he was the head of House MacLaine—a duty that came first.

"Haah..."

Click.

With a weary sigh, his trembling fingers opened a simple locket, revealing the portrait inside.

The familiar face of a blue-haired beauty, smiling brightly, dug painfully into his eyes today.

"Reyna... I'm sorry. I have no idea what our son is thinking. I promised to protect them, to raise them well, and yet..."

...Perhaps I've been too neglectful.

His final, scattered words twisted into self-reproach, stabbing not the family head, but simply a father's heart.

Thud.

The sound of the office door closing struck his chest heavily.

"Mother..."

Just uttering that word brought long-faded memories rushing back with startling clarity.

Even with Logan's memories spanning decades into a past life—hazy recollections from long ago—the word mother held that kind of power.

And that only made the weight in his chest heavier.

'I didn't expect him to bring that up...'

Even when he was exiled from the family in his past life, Patrick had never mentioned it.

Objectively, Logan didn't think his current actions were worse than the bloodshed of his past life, so he could guess the reason.

'Maybe he hasn't completely given up hope.'

Logan let out an involuntary scoff.

As he walked down the corridor, lost in thought, a familiar voice called out from ahead.

"Broooother!"

"Ronian?"

His younger brother, Ronian, appeared with two knights who looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Brother! Are you alright?"

His ragged breathing suggested he had rushed over in the middle of training—a pattern so familiar it was almost nostalgic.

But today, that familiarity was welcome.

"Of course I'm fine. It's been a while, Ron."

"Phew, that's a relief. The rumors weren't good, so I was worried."

Ronian let out a sigh of relief and smiled—unchanged, as always.

'Hm? Something's different.'

Of course, his brother's concern and relief were genuine.

But there was an unusual excitement in his eyes, a subtle eagerness that wasn't there before.

And strangely, he seemed more energetic than usual.

'Oh? Could it be...?'

Focusing his senses inward, Logan detected the vibrant traces of awakened Force within Ronian's body.

His eyes widened instantly.

"You little—! You didn't just come to check on me, did you?! Already...?!"

"I knew it! I knew you'd notice right away!"

Ronian beamed, his pure desire to share his achievement radiating from his smile.

And just as he hoped, Logan couldn't help but be genuinely impressed.

"At just fourteen... Hah."

In Logan's past life, Ronian hadn't awakened his Force until the Territorial War.

He had worried that changing the future might delay his brother's growth.

But instead, it had accelerated—a strange twist of fate.

"It's all thanks to you, Brother. When I heard you'd returned, I tried to come see you, but the knights got in the way..."

"...What?"

Only then did Logan notice the odd dents and marks on the armor of the knights behind Ronian.

The circumstances of his awakening were absurd enough, but that wasn't all.

'He slipped past two knights right after awakening?'

That alone spoke volumes about his brother's talent—and it was joyous news that instantly lifted Logan's gloom.

"Ha, haha—HAHAHA! Well done. Well done, Ron!"

The youngest Aura User in history had achieved his breakthrough even earlier.

And with that...

'Once Ronian stabilizes his Force, I can teach him the Divine Sword ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Secret Arts.'

He could repay the debt in his heart and secure a powerful ally for the coming crisis.

For Logan, this was nothing but good news.

And of course, Logan wasn't the only one celebrating Ronian's achievement.

That day, news of Ronian's Force awakening sent House MacLaine into an uproar.

An early awakening didn't guarantee becoming an Aura User, but it significantly increased the odds.

House MacLaine had been founded by an ancestor who was an Aura User, and now, with Ronian hailed as a prodigy who could restore the family's glory, excitement spread like wildfire.

Meanwhile, Logan—already a frequent subject of comparison due to his recent antics—was inevitably torn apart in contrast.

Not that the man himself cared. He was too busy preparing for what came next.

"There were more C-Rank mercenaries who could ride than I expected. With long-term contracts and the promise of horses, nearly every C-Rank in the country almost swarmed us."

"Huh? That's good? Do you have any idea how difficult—sigh... Well, I managed to narrow it down to about 350 of the most reliable ones. Don't look at me like that. It was hard enough stopping there."

"Huh? I should've taken more? You mad—ahahaha! My apologies. My humble self clearly lacked foresight."

Dwain had done too well.

Three hundred and fifty C-Rank mercenaries—effectively several companies' worth of armed fighters—now gathered in MacLaine Territory.

Not enough to threaten House MacLaine, but more than enough to cause trouble.

So, under the watchful eyes of the knights, they were housed in a dilapidated villa in the southern part of the territory—some for ten days, others for as few as five.

With each passing day, the mercenaries' frustration grew.

"You think we got scammed?"

"No minor baron would be stupid enough to make enemies with the Mercenary Guild..."

"Who knows? Maybe he is crazy. The rumors about that eldest son aren't great."

"Oh, I heard those too. That guy might actually be insane."

"Damn it, so we're just wasting our time here?"

"Think before you speak. The baron won't risk his standing with the guild—they'll compensate us."

"Compensate how?!"

As rumors about Logan worsened and tensions mounted, the mercenaries were on the verge of exploding.

And then, the man at the center of those rumors finally appeared before them.

"Crossbow cavalry... You mean?"

"Yes."

At Logan's indifferent reply, Kai couldn't help but ask again.

"You're not confusing them with mounted archers?"

"Correct. I intend to arm them with crossbows, not regular bows."

"Sir Logan... Crossbows aren't efficient weapons for cavalry. Hell, even in regular warfare—"

"I know."

"...Huh?"

Though crossbows boasted far greater destructive power than bows, even an unskilled user needed over a minute to reload one—on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠foot.

So what would happen with a mounted unit?

Even if each rider carried three or four pre-loaded crossbows, they'd run out of firepower within minutes—rendering them useless in prolonged combat.

No wonder Kai looked so baffled.

But Logan had no intention of changing his orders.

"Even if you think I'm just throwing money away on some pointless military fantasy—"

Kai flinched.

"—train them thoroughly. You'll understand why later."

Watching Kai nod awkwardly with a strained smile, Logan smirked.

It had been an offhand remark, but apparently, Kai had been thinking exactly that.

Not that Logan cared to call him out.

Right now, he needed to whip these mercenaries into shape.

His gaze shifted toward the disorderly crowd of mercenaries bickering in the villa's training grounds.

Their mismatched outfits screamed freelancers, and their unruly behavior made it clear they wouldn't let even minor slights slide.

At a glance, molding them into a disciplined unit seemed impossible.

'First, I need to establish discipline.'

Just as a predatory grin spread across Logan's face—

"Leave it to me."

Kai stepped forward, sensing his employer's intent.

"No, if you step in, they'll quiet down—but only on the surface."

"Huh?"

"I'll handle this. Just watch."

"...?"

Mercenaries moved for money, but if you handed it out too freely, they'd start seeing you as a fool.

It was an inevitable side effect of their rough lives.

And as a seasoned warrior from a past life, Logan knew exactly how to control them.

"Hey, look."

"Hm?"

"Oh-ho? Flame crest. Some noble brat?"

"Shh, probably that eldest son."

The moment Logan entered the villa, whispers followed him—growing louder as he stepped into the training grounds.

"Damn, look at that baby face."

"Is he even of age?"

"Rumor says no. I'd bet my hand on it."

"What're we gonna do with your hand?"

Some comments were at least passably civil—

"Hey, isn't that Kai of Harun behind him?"

"Who?"

"Kai, the top A-Ranker."

"Oh, sounds familiar."

—while others recognized Kai trailing behind Logan.

"Pfft. Reeks of silver spoon."

"Ugh, nobles always make my blood boil."

"Lucky bastard, born with the right parents. Damn it, I don't even know mine."

And then there were those who wore their rough lives like badges.

The reactions were as varied as the crowd itself.

But Logan was looking for one type in particular.

"Look at him, all dressed up. Oh wow, he's even got a sword. Playing soldier, huh?"

Specifically, the kind who thought they were whispering insults just out of earshot.

Logan stopped in his tracks and pointed directly at the man.

"You there."

"Me?"

"You ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠find my armor and sword amusing?"

"...I-I don't follow."

The mercenary—who never imagined Logan had heard every word—rolled his eyes and played dumb.

"Well, I suppose you're entitled to your opinion. If you've got the skill to back it up."

"Huh?"

"But what skill does a C-Rank like you have to look down on others? Know your place."

A single sentence froze the expressions of every mercenary present—not just those who had been mocking Logan, but even the few who had been neutral.

"Got a prideful streak, huh? Did I hurt your feelings? Fine."

Stepping into the center of the training grounds, Logan spread his arms and addressed the crowd.

"That fool isn't the only option. Anyone here—land one hit on me, and I'll pay a full year's wages upfront before sending you on your way. I swear this on my honor as a noble, with all of you as witnesses."

The mercenaries stared at him in disbelief.

When no one moved despite his challenge, Logan nudged Kai's knee from behind.

With a sigh, Kai stepped forward.

"I know some of you recognize me. My employer keeps his word. If anyone wants to try, go ahead."

"Seriously?!"

"Whoa!"

"Me! Pick me!"

Only after Kai's assurance did the mercenaries believe Logan—and chaos erupted instantly.

Logan raised a hand and pointed at the man who had mocked him earlier.

"Alright, you first."

"Deal! No take-backs!"

The mercenary swaggered forward—a towering figure over two meters tall.

His bulging muscles and sheer size made him look more like an A-Ranker than a C-Rank.

And as if his physique wasn't intimidating enough, he drew the two massive maces crossed on his back—one in each hand—with practiced ease.

"Isn't that Hail?"

"Huh? Isn't he B-Rank?"

"Nah, not yet. Maybe after this job?"

To Logan, though, it was almost comical.

'So this is what gave you confidence.'

The mercenary took a bold step forward and shouted.

"Alright, employer—you go first!"

"Me first? You'll regret that."

"I've eaten more steel than you've eaten rice in your life—don't worry about me."

"Oh-ho, is that so? As you wish."

CRACK.

The moment Logan's relaxed reply ended, a sound like an axe splitting wood echoed through the grounds.

No one saw Logan's fist connect with the brown-haired mercenary's jaw.

They only saw a flash of red and gold—a sudden gust of wind—and then...

The mercenary's jaw rocketed skyward.

As the onlookers' eyes widened—

THUD.

CRUNCH.

SLAM.

"Guhhh—!"

The mercenary's massive body crumpled to the ground in a broken heap.

"If you're gonna run your mouth, at least have the skill to back it up."

Logan delivered the icy remark with a detached expression before scanning the crowd.

"Anyone else want to test me?"

Every mercenary averted their gaze.