Chapter 35
Chapter 35
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 35
Chapter Title: 18. Assembly (1)
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Balshard was vast within its walls. The Brioll forces entered and pitched their tents.
A short distance away, the flags of the Empire and Burssen fluttered in the wind.
Soon, the emblems of countless nations would line up here.
Yuri summoned his knights.
"They'll all gather within a week."
Yuri sat in the large chair he had used when fighting the Orc Warrior, eyeing his knights.
Thanks to the battles they'd fought and the experience gained, the atmosphere had changed. They now seemed quite reliable.
"How do you think the allied forces will proceed from here?"
All eyes turned to Yuri.
Their attitude suggested they didn't doubt for a second that he held the answer.
"Why are you all staring at me?"
"We don't know. Please tell us."
"You need to think for yourselves."
"You know, Your Highness."
The knights knew the Third Prince was no longer the impulsive boy they'd imagined. He was a true commander, leading the unit with the proficiency of a seasoned veteran.
Yuri tapped his temple.
"When knights from different nations meet, what do they usually do first?"
"Greet each other?"
"Who said greet?"
"My apologies."
Yuri sighed.
"They usually pick fights. They're sword-swinging folk, after all—they want to test who's stronger. But it's called the allied forces in name only. What happens when knights from every strange nation gather?"
"A brawl...?"
"Who said brawl?"
"My apologies."
"They're knights—brawls? Come on."
Yuri stood from his seat.
"That's why cooperation will be abysmal. All those numbers, but they're just loose grains of sand. Even you lot—would you do whatever the Empire orders?"
"No, sir!"
"See? Everyone's like that. It's like their hands and feet aren't connected. How's a war supposed to work like that?"
"No, sir."
"Exactly. Headache-inducing. But that's out of our control. So what do we do?"
No ready answers came.
Then Rolang, gauging the mood, shot his hand up.
"We make them submit!"
"Who said submit...?"
Meeting Rolang's shining eyes, Yuri couldn't bring himself to criticize and pivoted instead.
"...Anyone could think that."
The knights' expressions soured, but Yuri ignored them.
"But that's not the real answer either. What we need to do is..."
Someone raised a hand. It was Simon.
He had been inspired recently by Yuri's warm guidance during the orc fight.
"Training."
He emphasized. Yuri clapped.
"Yes, exactly. Well done, Simon. My precious knight, Sir Simon."
"Thank you."
Simon placed a hand over his heart, pledging his loyalty.
Yuri stepped forward.
"We just need to get stronger. For the ones who should live to survive and those who should die to last longer, we must grow stronger than we are now."
He pointed to the tents where soldiers rested peacefully.
"Train, and make them train. That's our job."
The battles ahead would be chaotic beyond imagination. Human tactics crumbled before the brute strength of other races.
That was what fighting orcs meant.
In the end, all you could trust was your own skill.
Yuri handed out papers to each knight. They listed upcoming training and the soldiers they were to instruct.
"Our war has already begun."
As Yuri walked out, the knights parted for him.
They might not love the idea of training after coming this far, but none objected.
"I'll join you."
Their commander, Yuri, always led by personal example.
"Rolang."
"Yes."
"You're my opponent."
"Gladly."
And so Brioll's training began.
The knights taught the soldiers Mana Circulation Methods and swordsmanship, sometimes sparring among themselves to advance their realms.
Balshard's residents and allied soldiers wandered over, watching from around the Brioll camp.
Yuri crossed swords with Rolang. A pleasant fatigue coursed through his body.
"Rolang, you're strong as ever."
"You're the impressive one, Your Highness."
Since starting his second life, Yuri had no peers his age. But Rolang possessed talent that spurred him on.
Especially since their sword forms differed entirely, allowing them to learn from contrasting styles and patch weaknesses.
Such pure swordsmanship was rare even among knights.
To Yuri, whose mercenary days and Heart-Soul Severing had honed raw technique, it was fresh stimulation.
In his past life, his shallow insight had blinded him to Rolang's worth.
"Well, you took my head cleanly enough back then."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing."
Yuri angled his wooden sword downward, gazing at Rolang.
Sparring with him made him rethink details he'd overlooked.
"Your Highness wields a sword style I could never imitate. Astonishing. Your reflexes sometimes seem inhuman."
Yuri wanted to say the same of him.
RolAng's swordsmanship was exquisitely refined.
"But I'm learning a lot because of it."
"Same here."
Rolang straightened.
"I thought I'd been wary of arrogance, but facing you shows I fell short."
Balance held, but Yuri maintained the edge. An unfamiliar sensation for Rolang.
Yuri shrugged.
This was the bare minimum for a second-life reincarnate.
"One more round, please."
"Sure."
A crowd had gathered unnoticed.
Opportunities to watch high-level knights spar were rare—especially these two, Brioll's future pillars.
"Hoo..."
Yuri cleared his mind, focusing solely on Rolang. Even a stray golden lock fluttering in the wind stayed in view.
RolAng controlled every inch of his body, drawing foes in. That obsessive pursuit of perfection had elevated him here, perhaps.
What about himself, then?
As Yuri raised his sword, he ruminated on Heart-Soul Severing's essence.
Mana thinly extracted from the core in his heart.
He controlled its flow from start to finish.
Yuri was innately gifted in mana control but rarely pushed it this far. It drained mental strength excessively.
The uncomfortable sensation persisted.
He couldn't fight long like this.
Yet his image of battle sharpened clearer.
"Here I come."
RolAng struck first, aggressively.
Emulating Yuri's strengths.
"Come on."
Yuri incorporated his insights from Rolang into his swordplay.
Heart-Soul Severing demanded imagination.
It moved toward the future Yuri envisioned, manifested through his body.
But controlling mana turned his mental image into something more real, beyond mere fancy.
Almost precognitive.
Yuri's eyes widened.
The wooden swords clashed.
In that instant, Rolang's sword slipped from his grip and flew skyward.
Something had happened.
RolAng stared at Yuri, eyes round, mouth agape. His golden hair whipped in the breeze.
The dumbest expression Yuri had seen on him since they met.
"What was that...?"
Yuri chuckled low, slumping to the ground. Extreme mana control had drained him.
"How did you read Gerro?"
"Luck."
Not humility—fact.
It had been sheer luck. Practical use was distant.
RolAng glanced between his embedded sword and Yuri.
"Your Highness."
"Yeah?"
"Again."
"I'm beat."
"One more."
"No strength left..."
"Get up!"
"Hey, hey."
As Rolang tried dragging him up forcibly, Yuri flailed.
"Someone stop him!"
But no one sided with Yuri. Quite the opposite.
"Up you get, Your Highness."
"Show us once more."
"What was that just now?"
"On your feet!"
"I missed it."
Like gladiator crowds prodding slaves, they urged Yuri to fight.
Finally, he was hauled up, sword in hand, facing Rolang.
Something was off. He was the prince, the commander—why was he forced into the colosseum?
"Here we go. Hya!"
RolAng swung.
Yuri tried recreating it but failed. Rolang's sword stabbed his chest. Agonizing pain flared in his ribs.
"Gah!"
As Yuri toppled, Rolang panicked.
"Y-Your Highness?"
"Told you to go easy..."
"Are you all right?"
"No..."
Yuri glared at the egging crowd from the ground. They turned away as if nothing happened.
"You bastards... ugh..."
Pain choked his screams.
Yuri groaned from his slump.
"Get Hernando..."
"Yes!"
RolAng bolted.
Yuri sat there, staring at the sky.
Bruised, but gains made.
He had glimpsed a new realm of Heart-Soul Severing through Rolang's sword.
A mercenary adage surfaced.
'In any trio on the road, one is trash.'
Meaning the other two had lessons to teach. Though stronger than Rolang now, sparring yielded much.
"Your Highness."
Suddenly, a shadow fell as someone approached.
"Impressive technique."
Looking up, it was Jose, a Burssen knight. Yuri vaguely recalled him among the watchers. That bulk was hard to miss.
"Your Highness, a request."
"What?"
"A bout with you..."
"No."
Yuri shot up, forgetting the pain.
"I'm done."
"L-Later, then."
"Too busy."
"Just once..."
"Take Jared instead."
The Holy Kingdom entered Balshard, followed by forces from various nations assembling.
The Magic Tower erected flagpoles for the allies. Empire banners led, emblems of many nations whipping in the plains' wind.
Yuri looked up at Brioll's flag.
A simplified knight on horseback.
A simple image, yet countless lives hung beneath it.
"Greetings."
"Oh, sure."
"Pardon the intrusion."
Suddenly, foreign soldiers bowed to Yuri and began raising a new flagpole.
"Which nation?"
"Liberda."
Neighbor to Burssen. With these westernmost arrivals, the allies were nearly complete.
A Brioll soldier ran up with news.
"Your Highness!"
"What?"
"The allied commander has arrived."
"Has he?"
The Empire had positioned troops in Balshard early, but the true commander entered late.
Yuri knew who.
Half-brother to the current Emperor, uncle to Ekaterina—Prince Regnant Lagna.
Someone he'd met once before.
Yuri recalled the past.
At an imperial villa, secretly holding Ekaterina's hand.
Lagna burst in, catching them.
Lagna was a massive man, unlike imperial blood.
His piercing eyes fixed on Yuri.
'This one's the one you want?'
Strange tone.
Lagna might have known something then.
'Yes.'
Yuri answered boldly.
Just a third prince of Brioll, nothing against Ekaterina's lineage. Yet brimming with audacity despite having nothing.
'I see.'
He accepted and left.
That was it.
No leaks about Yuri and Ekaterina.
A man of depth.
"Should've caught why he looked at me so pitifully then..."
"Pardon?"
"Nothing. The commander is Prince Lagna, right?"
"Yes. How did you know?"
"I have the Empire's situation all figured out."
"Ooh..."
"Also, lunch is beef stew and ham veggie stir-fry. I know the cooks' stock too."
"Ooooh..."
"Go."
"Yes! Right away!"
"Take it slow."
"Pardon?"
"Training after anyway. Slack off now."
"Truly worthy of you, Your Highness. Three steps, rest once."
Liberda soldiers glanced at the casual exchange—impossible in other nations.
"What're you looking at?"
"N-Nothing."
Yuri crossed arms, watching Liberda's flag-raising. No ceremony—just hoisting diligently.
"Nothing special."
Yuri memorized all allied nations' flags, then turned.
Mid-stride between sunlit flagpoles and building shade...
"Flags up properly?"
"Yes, sir!"
"That angle's off."
"No, sir!"
"What do you mean no? You punk."
Yuri snuck back, peeking.
A flamboyantly dressed man berated lined-up soldiers.
"Angle's crooked. Making Liberda's flag look ridiculous?"
"No, sir!"
"Then why?"
"Sorry, sir!"
"Why do it if you're sorry?"
"Sorry, sir!"
"Sorry doesn't end service."
"No, sir!"
Total sleaze.
Expert chewing-out suggested a ranking Liberda knight.
"Anyway, check the flags. Lots here. What's that?"
He looked up. An aide explained.
"The Empire."
"Who doesn't know? Next to it."
"Burssen."
"What?"
He scowled.
"Why are those fishy hicks next to the Empire?"
"Arrival order, I think..."
"Looking at them gives me a headache. Their shiny armor's like fish scales in a net."
"Indeed."
"No wonder Balshard reeks since we arrived."
Yuri pulled out a notebook and pencil from his pocket.