Chapter 10: I've Grown Up Healthy and Well
A harsh winter had arrived. This year, the snow fell heavier than usual, and the wind slicing through the forest was sharp as a blade.
Standing against that biting gale was Edward Montemer, lord of the Montemer ducal family. Enduring the chill, he silently gazed toward the northern mountains in the distance.
"My lord, the wind is fierce. Please, come inside."
"……."
As his thoughts continued, a woman's voice came from behind. Media Montemer. Her maiden name had been Media Ophelia. The youngest daughter of the Ophelia marquis family, renowned for their ice magic.
Edward stared at her face for a moment before turning away. His immense mana made speech difficult, but he had heard her words.
It was a change that had come only after a long time following Anis's death.
Taking the blanket handed to him as he sat, Edward spoke.
"What is it?"
"I came to ask whom you plan to take on this subjugation."
"……."
Edward's eyes grew slightly colder. Media, my wife. He already knew her feelings, her thoughts.
But Montemer—Edward—did not interfere. His role was always one: to raise, train, and maintain the finest force.
Thus, he never meddled in family affairs.
Lawrence, my son.
'I've heard the rumors. If they're true….'
The annex echoed daily with breaking dishes and maids' screams, they said. If what people saw and heard was fact, it would be a great disappointment.
Even the sliver of attention he gave would vanish.
That was Montemer.
Please, my son. Don't betray my expectations.
Scratch, scratch.
The patriarch waved his hand, and the fountain pen moved at his will. This subjugation would be a Wolf Hunt.
Winter wolves were truly threatening, vicious and cruel beasts.
[…….]
[Lawrence Montemer]
Edward gazed for a moment at the name written at the very end, the finale. He waved his hand again, handing the list to Media.
The lady of the house was also a capable administrator. Setting aside personal feelings, Edward used those who were competent.
Media, confirming the list, wore a faint smile.
"Thank you. I'll summon them as listed."
"Mm."
Rumble.
Mana stirred, shaking the patriarch's office. Media bowed deeply and left the room.
After closing the door, she thought.
'Curse, poison, and… the subjugation. Perfect trifecta.'
The patriarch Edward would simply think, 'He died because he was weak.'
Her husband Edward had always been that sort of man.
Their marital affection had long faded. It was a political marriage anyway.
As long as her children could stand at Montemer's peak, she would do anything.
For Montemer's hegemon was the world's hegemon.
"You won't be on that path."
Lawrence. She didn't know how a child without mana roads could use magic, but he had no more chances now.
His body was already a wreck, his mind surely snapped.
"Better to finish the job cleanly."
She stared piercingly at the list before vanishing into the shadows.
Time to subjugate the winter wolves.
#2
"Young master—! We've arrived!"
"Whew—! Already?"
"Yes! Here's the summons."
The annex. Rachel handed Lawrence the summons brought by the messenger bird. It bore the patriarch's seal—a simple document ordering participation in the subjugation force.
Subjugation Force Summons
Participate in the Wolf Hunt.
"My gear?"
"All packed. But… what are all those for?"
"Wolf bait."
"Pardon?"
Lawrence checked his suddenly bulkier, firmer body and repacked his gear. The Boston bag was stuffed with sealed meat chunks—the bait for this hunt. Perfectly sealed against odor; no one would know without opening it.
"Let's go."
"Please be careful! Nothing forgotten, right!?"
"Yeah."
And the backpack. It held artifacts he'd crafted in spare moments. Quick to implant, he could swap and use them on the fly.
Lawrence cautiously stepped out of the annex.
Deserted streets. Like a ghost town in the city center. He pulled his hood low and walked slowly toward the heart of the city.
Of course, the clear Montemer emblem tattooed on one arm revealed his identity.
'Rumors seem to have spread well.'
Surprisingly, Media's "support" hadn't stopped. Sporadic, but cursed items kept coming, their potency even denser.
He'd struggled a bit protecting Rachel from the curses. Still, thanks to them, he'd grown this much.
Growth spurts were terrifying. At just eleven, he stood 168cm—unbelievable for his age.
"Wonder how shocked Media will be when she sees me."
No carriage sent, either. Maybe one late, to maximize his disgraceful entrance.
'Time for a full sprint warm-up?'
With mana chains released, his physical prowess far exceeded ordinary humans. He bolted full-tilt toward the main house, loosening up.
Countless people thronged the streets. Dodging them was training too.
He couldn't wait to see the family's reactions.
As the saying went: a nail that sticks out gets hammered down. Hammer away; he'd make sure they couldn't approach.
"Hahaha!"
His mad laughter echoed through the streets, terrifying passersby.
#3
Montemer family estate. Despite the encroaching harsh winter and obstructive weather, visitors never ceased.
The national event of the subjugation. Barbarians, beastkin, wolves, monsters—all threats to the empire… The family must devote itself for the empire's peace.
All titled nobles must head to battle, earn merits, protect the people.
That was their calling, the reason the emperor granted titles.
Montemer guarded the empire's north alongside the grand duke at the foremost northern front.
"Hoo…."
The weather was frigid. Steam rose from Lawrence's body. Removing his hood, the northern blade-wind slipped into his clothes, announcing this winter's severity.
On such days, wolves grew fiercer.
"Halt! State your—"
"Lawrence Montemer of the Montemer family. I've come at the summons."
"Ah, greetings!"
The direct-line crest was unmistakable. His crimson eyes gleamed with Edward's unmistakable trace.
But… eleven years old?
"Young master Lawrence… is that really you?"
"Yeah. It is."
"……."
Something's off. Rumors said….
"What, afraid a madman showed up?"
"N-no! Please, go right in!"
"Where to?"
"The Grand Training Ground."
Lawrence nodded. Eyes were already on him. Scanning around, northern families' carriages and supply-laden horses passed the main gate.
Among them, his targets too.
This world had far more of Amon's lackeys than expected.
'Alzeras and… Damian.'
Alzeras family. Their knight order, named after the house, was contracted to dark sorcerers. Damian would commit atrocities in this subjugation.
Prevent the disaster, subjugate the wolves.
Lawrence memorized the Alzeras crest—black field with golden eagle—and headed to the Grand Training Ground.
Many had already gathered. He scanned them slowly.
Reactions varied wildly where eyes met.
"Lo… Lawrence?"
"That's Lawrence?"
"No way, how!?"
Siblings mostly gaped in shock. Natural enough. The one who should be withering from curse and poison had returned robust.
Lawrence turned to his closest-in-age brother.
"Long time no see, Loras."
"You…."
"I'm bigger now, huh?"
Eleven years old, 168cm. Loras, fourteen, 161cm. Despite elixirs, he couldn't match Lawrence's monstrous growth.
A head taller. At that age, it must feel like facing a giant.
"How, how did you…."
"What, supposed to be messed up? Beating maids, smashing dishes daily?"
"……."
Caught. Alarms blared in Loras's head. If Mother saw this…!
"You… Lawrence?"
Then, a woman's voice from behind. Lawrence turned to face her—the duchess Media, masking her fluster.
He bowed politely, as if declaring he'd thrived thanks to her.
"Greetings, Duchess. I hope you've been well."
"No… ailments anywhere?"
"Of course not. Didn't you care for me so devotedly these past six months?"
"R-right… yes. That's true…."
Lawrence beamed innocently. Media's heart sank, clueless to the truth behind that pure smile.
Oliver had said he was consuming curses and poisons. Daily reports from the annex spoke of tragic noises—screams impossible without madness.
'But… he should be!'
Pushing the thought aside, Lawrence's voice rang out.
"Thanks to you, I've grown this much. Even taller than Loras now."
His solid frame showed. Well-fed and rested, he matched an adult woman's height. No trace of curse or poison in those crimson eyes.
'The church? No reports of him going. No priests at the annex either!'
How, how? Media swallowed dryly without realizing.
Anis. Lawrence. Why did these two thwart her so?
Crunch.
Her hands crushed the papers she held.
"Then, I'll go wait."
"……Do so."
Media couldn't yell or grab him before the crowd. Couldn't demand explanations or probe his survival.
She just stuffed down the chaos in her mind and returned to her seat.
"Why that boy…."
Her resentful murmur scattered into the cold wind, unheard.
Meanwhile, the families assembled.
"The Duke Montemer enters—!"
And another appeared, ready to show his healthily grown son.