The Spark of War
Gruon gently closed Jamie's eyes, now clouded with tears in death. It was an outcome he himself had never wanted, yet one he had to accept and bring to an end. Because of this incident, De Pruna had lost its strongest soldier. It was nothing less than a devastating loss—of heart, of spirit, and of military strength.
Exhausted beyond measure, Gruon no longer had the confidence to continue fighting. The same was true for Daphne, who had tirelessly blocked the enemy soldiers' relentless assaults.
“Let’s go,” Gruon commanded.
Daphne, who had silently guarded him until the very end, nodded at his words. She hurled the soldier before her away with her shield.
Thud!
The soldier who had charged in with bloodshot eyes flew far into the distance with a grunt. From her small frame—barely half the size of the man she had thrown—emerged monstrous strength. She didn’t stop there. Anyone who stood in Gruon’s path was blocked, struck, or shoved aside.
They said bears could tear men apart. In situations too difficult for Daphne alone, Arien joined in to clear the way. The soldiers’ armor was left in tatters; it almost seemed preferable to take a direct hit from Daphne.
With that, Gruon left Urwurt territory with a lonely expression. Unable to shake the lingering discomfort in his chest, he kicked at the empty air. The territory had suffered heavy damage, so no soldiers followed them outside. On the return path, he finally had the leisure to vent his anger.
There were more than one or two things weighing on Gruon’s mind. After being deceived for years, it was only natural. But it wasn’t just that which disturbed him. Recent events had piled up like layers, finally exploding in a complex tangle. That was why he had used the Yggdrasil he rarely touched.
“Excessive anger is bad for your health. More importantly, Lady Daphne, it is time for your medicine.”
Arien spoke after observing Gruon’s rage. It was no surprise she shared similarities with her main body. No, their personalities were exactly the same. She was even the same Arien who had been treating Daphne, as if she had that in mind when creating her clone. She generated the medicine and handed it over.
Daphne, who had been watching Gruon with concern, accepted the medicine and swallowed it in one gulp. Her swallowing had improved compared to before, and breathing had become easier. She couldn’t stop taking it now. In a different sense, it was a highly addictive drug.
“Well done. There is steady progress.”
In the middle of the forest, the situation seemed absurd, but it was necessary for her treatment. To anyone else it might have been a throwaway comment, but to Gruon—who had been seething with anger—the mention of progress was significant. Thanks to that, he was at least able to calm his fury somewhat.
“How much better is she?”
“Her throat condition could not be better. We may begin considering the next phase of treatment.”
“The next treatment, huh. But why can she still not make any sound?”
“After analysis, there is a high probability that she has forgotten how to produce sound.”
Through consistent analysis, Arien had concluded that Daphne had simply forgotten how to make sounds. But Gruon couldn’t understand that. His expression made it obvious, so Arien added an explanation.
“To put it simply, humans have traces in their anatomy of once having had tails, yet if a tail suddenly appeared, they would not know how to use it. Lady Daphne is in a similar situation. Her vocal cords had lost function and were practically nonexistent. They have been rapidly healed and regenerated. It is still awkward and may feel uncomfortable.”
“I see.”
Gruon nodded at the apt explanation.
“Then, will the next treatment begin immediately?”
“No. She is still in the adaptation phase, so we will proceed in a safe location. There must be no interference whatsoever.”
At times like these, Arien became more serious and resolute than ever. It was only natural that such an attitude made her seem even more professional and trustworthy. Gruon quickened his steps, eager to arrive even a little sooner.
Whoosh!
Late at night, Bagan tore through space and emerged into Toprak’s office, where not a single light had been lit.
“What the hell? Why is it so dark? Light!”
It was right after he had finished condemning the black mage Miren Kaibolg of Demonia within Sally’s space. Once the surroundings brightened, the situation became clear.
“I entered through the office, right? I wonder if Gruon made it back safely?”
Even though he was in the heart of enemy territory, there was no tension. When Bagan muttered to himself, Arien answered.
“My clone is in De Pruna. He returned without issue.”
“As expected of Arien. There’s nothing you can’t do.”
As he spoke, he stroked her hair for the first time in a long while. But at that moment—
“Die!”
It was Toprak, launching a surprise attack with a sharpened dagger.
Grab!
Bagan caught the man’s wrist and stopped the attack. He had sensed the bastard’s presence the moment he arrived.
“Why are you still here?”
Grind!
Even though it had been a surprise attack, it was blocked. Toprak gritted his teeth at his own helplessness. Then he spat out his resentment.
“This is my territory!”
There was a serious flaw in Bagan’s question of why he was still here. The uninvited guest was Bagan himself.
“Ah, right. I get it, so stop throwing a tantrum. We’re leaving.”
He released the wrist, pushed the man away with magic, and created a portal.
Whoosh!
The three of them walked through without a shred of lingering attachment. After Bagan’s group disappeared, Toprak—who had witnessed it with his own eyes—collapsed with a hollow expression.
Thump!
He kept telling himself it must have been an incredibly terrible nightmare. Otherwise, there was no way to put into words what he had seen today.
“……Just what the hell was that?”
With that grumbling complaint as his final words, Toprak collapsed.
Meanwhile, Bagan, who had instantly crossed over to a room in De Pruna, dove onto the bed like he was crashing into it.
“Ugh! I’m so tired. So tired.”
Seeing this, Arien scolded him.
“Lord Bagan, your clothes have become dirty from outdoor activities. I recommend a shower and a change of attire.”
“It’s fine. I won’t die.”
“Even if you are fine for now, bacteria may penetrate and you could spread it to those around you.”
Bagan looked astonished at Arien, who calmly delivered such lethal remarks from beside him.
“You’ve changed.”
“I do not understand the meaning of that statement.”
“Ever since you became a Queen Slime, Arien, you’ve been speaking your mind more directly.”
In other words, her sense of self had grown stronger. It was a positive change, but having more people nagging him wasn’t exactly welcome.
“Bagan, Arien is saying this because she’s worried about you. We may be fine even if we’re dirty, but you yourself said that a shower would make you feel better and changing clothes would feel refreshing.”
At Sally’s words, Bagan clutched his chest.
“Ugh!”
“W-what’s wrong?!”
“Sally, you’ve changed too.”
“Oh, really?”
Sally began looking at him with a negative gaze. More precisely, she started looking at him like he was a strange person.
“You’re looking at me like that?”
Bagan had only been joking, but their reactions left him feeling a bit hurt. When their gazes remained unchanged, he finally raised both hands in surrender.
“Fine, fine. I’ll go wash up.”
If he had thought washing was obviously something they would all do together, that was a mistake. He was the only one who needed to wash. Sally, a spirit who had no concept of becoming dirty, and Arien, who maintained her own cleanliness, had no need to bathe. Having done everything together until now, going through the process alone felt rather lonely.
I’ll definitely take them with me if I ever find a hot spring.
Bagan’s sense of grievance had reached that point. He quickly finished showering and changing before returning to the room. The bath was available in the castle, and his clothes were stored in his subspace, so there was no trouble.
Shake shake shake!
He was shaking his head to dry his hair when—
“By the way, do we not need to think about Gruon’s declaration of war?”
It was Sally’s question. Bagan, who hadn’t thought about it at all, scrunched up his face and replied.
“Ah, now that you mention it. That was a declaration of war.”
One might wonder what the problem with a declaration of war was, but of course there was a problem. To the orthodox nobles of the Seiros Kingdom and the Sog Kingdom—who had been preparing a perfect surprise attack—it was like a bolt from the blue. Moreover, the fact that he had imposed the will of the nation upon personal emotions was something that could be criticized.
Gruon dealing with Jamie had been treatment of a deserter, but it had escalated into a matter of national affairs.
“Ah, whatever! They must have had their own plans.”
However, this issue was already out of Bagan’s hands. It had already happened, and it wasn’t something that could be changed now.
“Well, if we don’t need to think about it, then it’s fine.”
Sally accepted his stance as well. The three of them seemed to brush it off casually, but the actual state of national affairs was not so simple. News of Gruon’s declaration of war spread rapidly.
In Melburn, a city near Dabuns, the capital of the Sog Kingdom. The city was a territory ruled by the noble faction’s duke, Nidus Melburn. Even though it was late at night, approaching dawn, the mansion where Nidus Melburn lived was still brightly lit. A chilly meeting was taking place in the mansion’s round table conference room.
“This is war! The movements of the Seiros Kingdom were suspicious, and now they have finally made their move!”
The one who had just passionately spoken was Marquis Hese Armian of the noble faction. He governed Armian, a major city comparable to Melburn, and as his heated speech suggested, he had the most to lose.
“That aside, I never expected them to attack Urwurt territory as an example. Should we call it quite bold? Wasn’t that territory already on the verge of collapse anyway?”
“Watch your words, Count Tyram! Urwurt was ultimately a territory that had joined the noble faction. There is such a thing as loyalty!”
“Then why did Count Garios, whose territory is nearby, not only fail to help but even neglect them?”
This time it was a fight between counts. Count Tyram, who had spoken first, could say such things because his territory was located farthest from the Seiros Kingdom among those present. On the other hand, if Urwurt fell, Count Garios’s territory would be next. That was why he couldn’t help but feel the gravity of the situation. Although it was a bit distant, Garios territory was the closest to Urwurt, so Marcel’s words were not entirely out of line.
At that moment, Nidus—the owner of the gathered territories—spoke.
“We did not gather here to fight among ourselves. If this is not war, then what is? You must already know that. If there is a problem, it is this: with the orthodox faction faltering, the noble faction must bear even greater sacrifices to block the enemies harming the Sog Kingdom.”
When Nidus pointed out the main issue, the other nobles nodded in agreement. Then Count Garios spoke.
“You are correct. However, requesting troops from the orthodox faction is not necessarily wrong. With the king in decline, the absence of someone to lead from the center is significant. The noble with the next greatest power should take command. Since it is a call for cooperation for the sake of the nation, they will not be able to refuse.”
Upon hearing Count Garios’s words, the other nobles all nodded, thinking there was no need for the noble faction to bear the consumption alone. Even Count Tyram—who had been arguing with differing opinions just moments before—shared the same thought.
“That is true. No matter how divided our power may be, this is an invasion by a foreign power. We cannot continue the power struggle indefinitely. The noble faction’s momentum has already taken over. Furthermore, if we win well against the Seiros Kingdom this time, couldn’t we win the hearts of the people as well?”
Count Tyram had no interest in the war. In the past, his territory’s distance from the border meant he had not been of much help. Given the circumstances, no one could blame Count Tyram, but the words that followed crossed the line.
“Ah, additionally, if this war ends favorably, we can credit it to Prince Darius. It will help with his ascension to the throne.”
Even the most powerful Nidus had to rebuke him.
“Count Tyram, no matter how far your territory is, you are wagging your tongue too much. It seems you need to start thinking a little.”
He hadn’t spoken with particular force, yet Count Tyram became as mute as if he had eaten honey. Nidus was responsible for listening to the other nobles’ thoughts and making the final decision, but he also took on the role of mediator when such conflicts arose. That was why he usually didn’t intervene unless it was a major issue. However, bringing up the prince’s name was inappropriate. There were unwritten rules even within the noble faction. Each person’s connection to which prince was not publicly known, yet Count Tyram had carelessly mentioned the Second Prince. In other words, it was not pleasant news for nobles connected to the First or Third Prince.
“Understood. For now, each territory should raise the alertness of its soldiers and strengthen military supplies. Additionally, territories near the border should check frequently and report.”
Realizing the meeting had gone on too late into the night, Nidus quickly announced its end. With that, the matter concerning Urwurt territory was concluded.
Meanwhile, in De Seiran of the Seiros Kingdom, chaos had erupted. One could roughly sense the atmosphere just by looking at Pelion’s expression as he stared at the cleanly crafted orb.
“I am sorry, older brother. It has come to this.”
The voice flowing from the orb undoubtedly belonged to Gruon. Pelion hid his shock and soon resigned himself.
“I understand. Prepare to board the ship.”
“Yes. Huh?!”
Click.
The communication magic through the orb was cut off. Pelion pressed firmly on his aching temple.