The Way to Rule the Grand Duchy

The energy of the Blood Source Mind Image Scripture rampaged through his entire body. The pain was literally a living hell. Wulfran’s whole body was drenched in sweat. His skin burned a vivid red, veins bulging as if they might burst at any moment.

Kyle had sealed his pressure points to stop him from screaming aloud, yet even the suppressed groans made the sheer horror of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his suffering clear to anyone listening.

“Ugh…! Uuuuugh…!”

Yet Wulfran did not run. Blood welled from beneath his fingernails as they scraped the floor. His gums had torn from clenching his teeth so hard. Still he forced himself to remain on his knees, enduring the blood-colored energy that burrowed into his very core.

Kyle watched the sight with cold, appraising eyes. At least he has passed the first gate.

Had the pain broken him—had he lost consciousness or tried to flee—Kyle would have abandoned him on the spot. The Blood Source Mind Image Scripture was no miracle. It offered no free salvation. To those who could not endure the agony, this power was not a blessing but a curse that would rip their body apart from the inside out.

But Wulfran endured. It was the superhuman tenacity born of pure desperation.

After roughly an hour, the violent energy swirling through Wulfran’s body slowly began to condense toward his dantian. The blood-colored power flowed along his veins, first devouring the lingering remnants of his blue aura. It grew by claiming his aura as its own.

“Haa… haa… haa…”

When Kyle finally released the pressure points, Wulfran collapsed forward, gasping violently. He was utterly exhausted. Yet the inside of his body had changed completely. The blue aura of the Blue Tiger Knights style he once possessed was gradually vanishing. In its place, an explosive blood-colored energy now coursed through his veins.

And the effect was immediate.

“Huh…?”

Wulfran, still lying face-down and catching his breath, suddenly lifted his head. His eyes were still gone. There was no way he could see. Yet he felt as though something was visible. It was not mere sound.

Countless pieces of information about his surroundings transformed into strange mental images that painted themselves inside his mind. Two shapes rose within the darkness. It was not a world of color, nor had light returned. But he could sense the outlines of objects.

He could feel the energy of living beings. The structure of space itself took shape in his head. It was as if the world around him had been sketched onto white paper with a quill pen.

“This… what in the world is this…”

Wulfran rose on trembling legs, stammering in disbelief. He turned his gaze exactly toward where Kyle stood. He could not see the expression, but he could perceive the rough outline of the form. A new sense that could replace eyes—the unique sensory ability the Blood Source Mind Image Scripture granted to the blind.

Kyle allowed himself a satisfied smile. As expected of a former middle-grade knight. He’s absorbing the energy quickly.

Had he started from nothing, opening this sense alone would have taken a month. But Wulfran already possessed the foundation of accumulated aura. Kyle had simply converted it into blood qi.

“But it isn’t finished yet.”

Kyle explained his condition. “The seed of energy I planted must fully germinate and convert every last trace of your internal power. That will take until tomorrow morning.”

“……”

“What you’re feeling now is only the beginning. The energy will continue to be absorbed automatically. By tomorrow morning you should be able to handle daily life on your own.”

Wulfran listened, then slowly pushed himself upright. He staggered; the aftershocks of pain still wracked his entire body. Nevertheless, he returned to kneel precisely before Kyle and bowed his head.

Kyle asked, “Well? Have you decided to follow me?”

The question of whether he would offer his loyalty. The answer, however, had already been decided.

Wulfran bowed so deeply his forehead nearly touched the floor. His voice shook—not from pain, but from overwhelming emotion. “This Wulfran Gecht will become your sword even if it means shaving away my remaining lifespan. I pledge my loyalty to the Grand Duke’s heir.”

There was not the slightest trace of falsehood in that voice. The man who had offered salvation to someone drowning in nothing but despair was Kyle Hartvalt. Even if he were a demon, Wulfran would follow him to the end.

Reina watched silently from behind. My lord gives people exactly what they crave most… and in doing so, claims them completely.

To her, he had granted the chance and the proof to become strong. To Wulfran, he had restored the possibility of living once more as a knight. He saw through the thirst of desperate men with perfect clarity, handed them what they wanted most, and received absolute loyalty in return. Reina felt anew that this was her lord’s method of domination.

“Kyle Hartvalt, eldest son of the Hartvalt Grand Ducal family.” Kyle answered in a grave tone. “I accept your loyalty.”

Wulfran remained bowed. Kyle looked down at him and added, “Since we’re at it, I’ll give you one more gift to commemorate becoming my subordinate.”

“A… gift, my lord?”

“The power I just gave you will restore your senses on the battlefield,” Kyle said casually. “But it won’t solve every filthy inconvenience of your daily life.”

Wulfran’s shoulders stiffened. He understood the meaning instantly. The catastrophic injury to his lower body from the battlefield. He had lost his penis and the end of his urethra. For now he relieved himself through an artificial opening created in his perineum. In that state he could still fight. Yet the dignity of everyday life had been shattered.

“We’re heading to the Great Temple now,” Kyle stated.

Wulfran’s breathing stopped as the implication sank in.

“If we pay those greedy priests a hefty sum, they can at least reconstruct the urethral passage and part of the external form.”

“M-My lord?! That’s…!”

Wulfran’s voice shook violently, but Kyle continued without pause. “Restoring full sexual or reproductive function will be nearly impossible even with divine power. The eyes you lost cannot be recovered either.”

The retina and optic nerve were delicate organs linked directly to the brain. Such things did not simply revive by stitching flesh and circulating blood.

“However, functions close to normal urination and the minimum external appearance befitting a man can be achieved by combining high-ranking divine power from the Great Temple with surgical skill.” Kyle gave a small laugh. “It simply costs an obscene amount of money.”

Wulfran’s lips trembled. The divine procedures performed by the Great Temple’s high priests required an astronomical sum. An amount a mere retired knight could never touch even if he saved his whole life. The Blue Tiger Knights had naturally refused to pay.

They had dressed up his discharge as honorable and washed their hands of him. The current Grand Duke Roderick, to whom Wulfran had once sworn loyalty, had done nothing. The only support he had received came from the system left behind by the previous Grand Duke, Valgrim.

“How could I possibly accept such immense grace…”

“The money is no concern of yours,” Kyle shrugged. In the days before he had regained his past-life memories, he had lived as a worthless wastrel drowning in drink and violence. Yet the dignity maintenance stipend granted to him as the eldest son of the Grand Ducal family had been enormous.

Kyle had never cared for luxuries like jewels or art, so his personal vault had swelled with a mountain of untouched coin. Even a tenth of that fortune was more than enough to move several high-ranking priests of the Great Temple.

“This is not pity,” Kyle said coldly, nailing the point down. “It is proper treatment and an investment for one who has become my subordinate.” His gaze pressed down on Wulfran. “When a weapon breaks, the owner should repair it and put it back to use. Don’t you agree?”

“……”

“Of course.” A faint blood-red light flickered across Kyle’s green eyes. “If you fail to live up to the investment and expectations I have placed in you, then you will repay me with your life.”

The killing intent behind the words was genuine. Yet to Wulfran it felt like a lifeline. A lord who cared about his dignity and daily functions as a human being. The knight order had abandoned him.

This demon-like heir to the Grand Duchy was trying to forge him once more into a useful man. Even if the man was a devil, it was reason enough to serve him for the rest of his life. If that devil marched into hell itself, Wulfran was ready to follow.

Thud.

Wulfran slammed his forehead against the floor. A slight bruise rose on his brow.

“I will engrave my lord’s grace into my very bones!” His voice trembled on the verge of tears.

Kyle looked at him, then turned lightly on his heel. “Rise.” He walked toward the door and commanded, “We leave for the Northern Frontline in two days. There is no time to waste. We head to the Great Temple immediately. Follow.”

Wulfran rose at once despite his staggering steps. Using his new eyes—or rather, the sensory map opened by the Blood Source Mind Image Scripture—he began to walk behind Kyle and Reina, who attended her lord in silence.

* * *

The next morning, after the procedure in a secret chamber of the Great Temple and a visit to the bathroom, Wulfran collapsed once more and wept. The fundamental truth that he was impotent had not changed. The lost functions had not fully returned.

Yet he no longer had to rely solely on the humiliating artificial outlet in his perineum. He could now stand and urinate like a man. A large part of the external sense of loss had been filled. A portion of normal life had come back to him.

To Wulfran, it felt like a miracle.

And the news spread like wildfire throughout the entire Hartvalt Grand Ducal family, delivering a different kind of shock.

The knights and soldiers inside the Northern Duke’s Castle fell into confusion. Only yesterday Kyle had been the murderous devil who slaughtered one hundred and ninety-three knights. The eyes that had been turning from hatred to fear now wavered at this new information. Everyone in the castle feared him. Everyone trembled at the mere thought of sharing the same space with him.

Could it be that he actually takes good care of his own people?

The rumor that he had spent a vast sum treating someone who swore loyalty to him twisted the thread of that terror in a strange way.

Knights from the periphery who had never entered the four main orders. Men who had spent over a decade as squires without ever becoming formal knights. Those sick of the Grand Ducal family’s rotten factional politics. A subtle new light began to kindle in their eyes.

Defy him and die. Follow him and receive clear rewards. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠simple, easy-to-understand principle took root easily inside the Grand Duchy.

By the time the afternoon arrived and lunch had just ended, Graham Berk visited Kyle’s quarters.

“My lord, you made quite the statement.”

The old knight Graham looked at Kyle with a meaningful smile.

Kyle raised his head from the documents detailing battlefield intelligence. “What are you referring to, Sir Graham?” The corner of his mouth twisted. “Do you have some complaint?”

“Not at all, my lord. On the contrary, I am impressed.” Graham shook his head and continued. “Whether sincere or performative, you have shown the entire territory that you take impeccable care of your own. Thanks to that, people inside the Grand Duchy are beginning to waver toward you with positive feelings.”

Fear alone could not fully dominate people. Both carrot and stick were necessary. The single act of grace Kyle had shown was already stirring ripples throughout the Northern Duke’s Castle.

Kyle set the document aside. “I have merely given them a small taste of how I intend to operate the Hartvalt Grand Duchy from now on.”

Graham understood the meaning at once. It was a clear declaration that Kyle would now seriously enter the competition for the position of Grand Duke.

The Grand Duke’s heir…!

Graham’s eyes shone silently. As Valgrim’s trusted subordinate and a knight who had devoted his life to the battlefield, the blood of the northern warrior that slept in his veins surged once more with anticipation for Kyle.

“Since Sir Graham is here at the perfect time,” Kyle said, rising from his seat, “I should inspect the supply preparations myself.”

“You wish to check the supplies personally?”

“No matter how small the materials, my subordinates and I will eat and use them. It is only natural to verify their condition.”

Graham stared at Kyle for a moment. Any ordinary noble or Grand Duke’s heir would have left such tasks to servants or supply officers without a second thought. Caron had done exactly that. But Kyle was different.

“Understood.” Graham nodded. “I will guide you.”

“Thank you.”

Kyle simply smiled. Even in his previous life as the Blood Cult Leader, he had always inspected supplies personally. In war, meticulous logistics management was always the most vital task. Corruption in military procurement existed everywhere. Even inside the Blood Cult, there had always been at least one bold fool committing embezzlement.

It was truly exhausting.

Fighting those embezzlers whose greed had grown beyond all bounds had been more tiring than battling the entire murim world. Precisely because of that, he had to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠check everything himself.

* * *

And then, the following morning, the day to depart for the Northern Frontline finally arrived.

Cutting through the bone-chilling northern wind, Kyle Hartvalt set out for the Northern Frontline together with his two knights. Graham Berk and the support troops followed behind them.