Episode 21

At that moment, Logan felt himself ascend to a new level.

A second core now orbited around his original core, the two linked more tightly than anything he had ever experienced. The Force that once flowed directly from his core to his body now passed through this second core, instantly amplifying in power.

Uuung—

His entire body trembled from the sudden surge of energy. Moreover, he could sense that the quality of his Force had also evolved—thicker, denser, far more efficient than mere quantitative growth.

And now that he had reached the Second Star, he had laid the foundation to master the next secret technique of the Divine Sword Vision.

'Severing Iron, Severing Gold Strike...'

Just recalling the destructive power of the First Form made him certain that the Second Form would exceed all his expectations. If he could master it before the war, even High Knights wouldn't intimidate him.

His heightened consciousness naturally drifted toward the Vision, and his relentless exploration continued until the morning sun's rays pierced through his closed eyelids.

"Hmm... Still not easy."

Despite his muttered complaint, Logan's expression wasn't dark.

It had taken him three months to master the First Form, Wave-Cutting Slash.

If he trained diligently, he could master the Second Form before the war.

Just as he basked in that satisfying thought, enjoying the morning sunlight, an unwelcome knock interrupted his peace.

"Come in."

"Young Master, did you sleep well last night?"

Rick entered with a mischievous grin. That face—whenever it grinned like that, it always meant...

"Another troublesome matter, I take it?"

"Troublesome? Pfft. If it were troublesome, would I be smiling?"

"You grin like that when I'm the one in trouble and you're the one having fun."

"Hahaha, Young Master, you jest—"

"So nothing's wrong? I'll head to training, then."

"The family head has summoned everyone for breakfast! The entire family!"

Logan immediately stood and strode toward the door, prompting Rick to hastily shout after him. Logan then mercilessly pinched the cheek of that grinning fool.

"Listen here, you little—this is trouble! What kind of game are you playing?"

"Owowow! That hurts! What's so troublesome about a family meal? It's the first time since you ran away!"

"You brat, that's only normal in ordinary families—"

"You used to eat breakfast together every morning just a few years ago!"

"...Huh?"

Now that he thought about it, that was true.

The memory was so distant he had nearly forgotten.

'Right. There was a time like that.'

For a moment, he was lost in fleeting recollections, but Rick gave him no time to dwell.

"Hurry! He said to drag you there even if you were training or sleeping!"

"...Now? Why?"

"What do you mean why?! It's your twentieth birthday today!"

"...Ah!"

"Don't just ah! Get moving!"

With a deep sigh, Logan yielded to Rick's nagging.

Among the noble families of the Empire, some celebrated their heirs' coming of age with grand feasts. But in the Grandia Kingdom—especially in the MacLaine family—such extravagance was unheard of.

The tradition was simple: family members who rarely gathered would share a meal to mark the occasion.

But to Logan, even that was an unbearable nuisance.

'We could just skip these trivial customs.'

It was absurd for the birthday boy himself to think so, but anyone witnessing the current atmosphere would understand.

Aside from the obligatory greetings exchanged between Logan, Ronian, and their parents before the meal...

"You've come of age now."

"Yes."

...that was the entire conversation during breakfast.

'Let's just finish eating and leave.'

Logan swallowed his dessert in one gulp.

"I've finished. I'll be—"

"Sit."

"...Yes."

But even escaping this stifling gathering wasn't up to him.

Seeing Logan's irritated expression, Patrick—who had also devoured his dessert in one bite—spoke.

"Logan, you are the firstborn of House MacLaine."

'Where is this going?'

A bad premonition made Logan's brow twitch. And sure enough, an uncomfortable topic arose.

"Traditionally, on the day of your ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠coming of age, we would discuss the family succession."

"Dear!"

"...However."

Patrick raised a hand to silence his startled wife and continued calmly.

"Your past behavior has been... unbecoming of a successor."

Marian's face brightened at those words, but Patrick wasn't finished.

"But! Recently, I've heard from the knights that you've shown improvement. So, as promised, I'll grant you a year's grace period. After that, your standing in this family will be decided based on your conduct."

"Dear! That's—!"

"Enough. This isn't about denying Ronian his chance."

Though she bit her tongue, Marian's face still flushed with frustration. Beside her, Ronian chewed his food mechanically, barely tasting it.

In that suffocating silence, Logan dropped a bombshell.

"Why wait a year?"

"What?"

"Just give the succession to Ronian. I'm not interested."

The others didn't know it, but the family's crisis was already unfolding.

Even if they survived this ordeal, another desperate crisis would strike within a decade.

'Focusing on that alone doesn't guarantee survival—I don't have time to waste on succession nonsense.'

With unwavering resolve, Logan added:

"Ronian's natural talent in martial arts makes him far more suited to lead a knightly house."

It was an excuse, but also partly true.

Yet his father's reaction was unexpected.

Wrinkles creased Patrick's brow, his lips trembled, and his face reddened before he finally erupted.

"You dare treat the succession of House MacLaine—this honorable position—as a joke?! Who gave you the right to decide who takes it?!"

His thunderous roar shook the mansion.

Patrick MacLaine glared at his eldest son as if personally insulted, his expression terrifying.

And in that frozen moment of shock—

BAM!

CRASH!

"M-My lord! House Tesron has declared war!"

An unforeseen variable shattered the suffocating tension in an instant.

[We shall avenge the unjust death of our ancestor, Lord Kael Tesron, upon House MacLaine!]

A single magical missive turned the MacLaine household upside down.

Emergency protocols activated. A family council convened.

The grudge dated back sixty years—two generations prior, during the beginning of House MacLaine's decline.

No one understood why this ancient feud had resurfaced now. Some argued for investigating the cause and sending envoys, while others insisted on immediate war preparations.

Amid the chaos, Logan was stunned for entirely different reasons.

'Why so soon?!'

This was nearly two months earlier than in his past life.

'I thought we had more time.'

He couldn't fathom what variable had accelerated the territorial war, but there was no time to dwell on it.

"Young Master! The council is starting!"

"I know."

Had he mastered the Divine Sword's Second Form, he'd have been more confident—but even now, he wasn't overly worried.

'Victory is all that matters. My strength ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is already enough.'

Though the sudden change was unexpected, his meticulous preparations left his confidence unshaken.

Others, however, weren't so assured.

"House Tesron's knight order alone outnumbers ours by half! Even with the family head's strength, our chances—"

"Their regular forces exceed a thousand—more than double ours! We should seek peace—"

Their knights, soldiers, every military asset was outmatched twofold. Even accounting for Patrick MacLaine's status as a High Knight, they were objectively outclassed.

The council descended into bedlam.

"By tradition, we must march within a week of the declaration. Their stronghold is three days from ours—"

"With fewer troops, we should adopt a defensive strategy—"

"Issue conscription orders immediately. Gather every available soldier and reinforce patrols—"

"No, we must send envoys first—"

Clamor. Clamor. Clamor.

The grand hall, usually reserved for dignified noble discourse, became a cacophony of panic.

Patrick, scowling at the disorder, finally stomped his foot.

BOOM!

"SILENCE!"

His commanding voice crushed the noise instantly.

"House Tesron declared war without royal sanction. They've made their intentions clear—so those suggesting peace had better think before speaking!"

The dissenters shut their mouths.

With a single rebuke, the family's course was set: war.

"Prepare for battle! Propose strategies for victory! No other opinions will be tolerated!"

The discussion swiftly shifted to logistics.

"Conscription will take three days—"

"Weapons and armor for the troops—"

"The knights' training regimen—"

Amid the planning, Logan's role came into question.

"Will the Young Masters be joining the campaign?"

As Force-users, their participation was expected.

"Come to think of it, the Grand Young Master has been training with the knights."

"Will they be integrated into the knight order?"

Though fallen, House ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠MacLaine was still an ancient knightly family. For its heirs to fight was only natural.

Patrick nodded without hesitation.

"My sons will march. Now that Logan has come ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of age, he must shoulder responsibilities befitting his station."

Logan didn't protest—his deployment was settled.

But the manner of his deployment became an issue.

"I've heard the Grand Young Master's mercenary band has been training in cavalry tactics. Is this true?"

"It is."

"A properly trained cavalryman is worth three infantrymen. Can your mercenaries fulfill that role?"

"Easily."

Logan answered Dwain's question with a confident smile.

But few truly believed him.

"Well, better than nothing."

"At least the Grand Young Master's soldier games might help."

"Doubt it. Low-tier mercenaries at best—if they don't desert, we're lucky."

Logan's poor reputation extended to his mercenaries. Those who had never even seen their training dismissed them outright.

Unfazed, Logan pressed his case.

"Father. My men are worth not three, but ten infantrymen each. After months of coordinated drills, I request permission to deploy them as an independent unit."

"...You refuse to serve under the family's command?"

"Operating separately will maximize their effectiveness."

"Fine. Granted."

The approval came surprisingly easily—likely because no one took the mercenaries seriously.

Regardless, it suited Logan perfectly.

"Thank you."

But not everything went his way.

"However, while they may operate independently, you will fight alongside the knight order."

"...What?"