Chapter 41
Chapter 41
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: Siblings' Secret Pact
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"Who is it?! I clearly said not to let anyone in!"
The sharp cry from Mercy rang out, but the figure outside paid it no mind and pushed the door open with a creak.
"It's me."
"Brother...!"
That was right.
The one who'd come to Mercy's room was the Shield Family's eldest, Ares.
"That little punk must have really gotten under your skin after what happened in the meeting hall earlier."
Mercy let out a small scoff at Ares's words. On the surface, it might sound like brotherly concern.
But she knew better. Regardless of how he preached about 'justice' as family blood.
She knew just how ambitious he truly was.
"Hmph, spare me the fake concern and get to the point before you leave. I'm not in the mood for casual chit-chat with you right now."
"Always so hot-tempered... Fine, since you asked so nicely, I'll cut to the chase."
Ares slowly closed the door behind him and looked at Mercy before speaking.
"The youngest's position is rising at an alarming rate. You're aware of that much, aren't you?"
Mercy's delicate eyes twitched.
"Brother, are you trying to piss me off to death right now?"
Ares shook his head slightly. Normally, he'd tease her with a sly grin.
A faint glint passed through Mercy's eyes. Pretending ignorance, she shot back at him.
"Then what? Did you come to suggest we both kiss Jerome's ass? You're not that pathetic, are you?"
Ares's eyes finally narrowed.
"Watch that vulgar mouth of yours. Sometimes I get embarrassed that you're the one I'm competing with for the lord's seat."
"Get to the point."
Ares sighed as if he couldn't deal with her.
"Doesn't it feel like it's about time we put a damper on the youngest's momentum?"
Mercy's eyes widened. She hadn't dared to hope.
If her guess was right, what came next from Ares would be completely at odds with his usual behavior.
And sure enough, Ares finally spoke.
"Let's join forces. For the time being."
"......!!"
It was the answer she'd expected, but Mercy couldn't nod so easily.
Who was her brother? Whatever his true intentions, outwardly he was the one who championed 'knightly honor' more than anyone.
For such a man to suggest teaming up against the youngest's momentum right away?
If this shady deal got out, she might brush it off as her usual wild ways.
But for Ares, whose retainers had sworn loyalty drawn to his upright image? It would be fatal.
Something didn't add up. And besides.
"Have you lost your mind, brother? Trade with the elves is a chance to elevate the entire family. You're saying we waste that on taking down one little punk?"
Business was business. Personal grudges were personal.
If trade with the elves went through, it would propel the family to a whole new level.
To throw away such a golden opportunity just to crush the youngest?
It was unthinkable to Mercy's pride.
'For some snot-nosed brat—no, a bug of a brother? Screw that.'
Besides, she had no intention of giving up on the successor position just yet.
Brother or youngest, whatever. She sure as hell wasn't about to let a chance to claim an even bigger family slip away.
Ares shook his head as if he'd read her thoughts.
"Tsk tsk. Think bigger. You think I don't know that messing with the youngest right now is like kicking a hornet's nest?"
With that, Ares's eyes gleamed.
"And I have zero intention of throwing away a chance for the family to grow."
"Then what do you suggest?"
A sly smile crept across Ares's face at Mercy's question.
"Didn't the youngest say it himself? That he'd head to the elves' forest 'once the weather warms up.'"
"What's that... Ah!!"
Mercy let out a short gasp as realization dawned.
"Banten's still cold, but the capital Edirne should be warming into spring by now. You know what that means, right?"
Mercy eyed Ares suspiciously.
"Hmph, so you're saying we let the youngest go this year?"
"Exactly."
"Then we'll need to find something worth doing together."
"With elf trade on the horizon, how about a joint hunt for old times' sake?"
Their cryptic exchange continued.
"How devious. Fine, whatever. Even putting Jerome aside, that meeting pissed me off too. Let's team up this time."
With Mercy's agreement, Ares smiled once more.
"Excellent choice."
"Hyah!"
The boy's spirited shout echoed across the training grounds. Despite his young age, his aura was impressively sharp.
Compared to a few months ago in the slums, it was remarkable growth.
But.
Smack!
Miron, the boy, swung his sword, but I dodged leisurely and countered.
"Urk!"
Miron's head snapped back.
"Still too slow. Move faster."
"Yes!"
Though he staggered dizzily, Miron struggled to regain his stance.
As exchanges continued, Miron's eyes began to redden faintly.
"Raaargh!!"
Soon after, with a ferocious momentum unbelievable for a child, Miron charged wildly.
Crack!
But a low kick to his increasingly gapped shin.
"Your movements are too big. Don't let your frenzy consume you."
Miron rolled on the ground from the kick but sprang up.
"Uwaaaah!!"
Whether my advice got through or not, who knows.
'Probably went in one ear and out the other.'
Otherwise, he wouldn't charge like a mad beast.
After thoroughly thrashing the frenzied Miron for a good while.
Thud!
Finally, Miron's legs gave out.
"That's enough for today. Miron, your frenzy is an incredibly powerful force, but it comes with equal backlash. Train harder so it doesn't devour you."
"Y-Yes... Thank you, sir."
Plop!
After his bow, Miron collapsed on the training ground as if his duty was done.
I watched him a moment, then turned and quietly left the grounds.
"Whew, tough kid. Beating a child that mercilessly—you're a real thug, a thug."
Saladin, who'd been watching from the entrance, shuddered dramatically, but I ignored him.
"Necessary tough love. How'd the repairs on Mimi and Nene go?"
Saladin had poured nearly all his time into fixing Mimi and Nene, damaged in the Holy Empire raid months ago. Their growth was his growth, after all.
Not that it mattered. To Saladin, they weren't mere puppets.
Saladin nodded confidently.
"Heh, of course. The Shield Family really is loaded, huh? Even had precious mithril."
This lunatic slathered mithril on puppets?
"Fixed 'em up proper. They won't break easily now."
I was about to chide the extravagant doll pervert but held back.
If he was that confident, no need to doubt Mimi and Nene's state.
Winter's hardship across the continent from famine ended, ushering in my sixteenth spring.
From fifteen autumn to sixteen early winter, I'd been nonstop building external achievements.
No faster way to solidify my position in the family.
But back in Banten that early winter, I focused purely on internal strengthening.
No one in Banten territory saw me—a famine solver and elf conflict preventer—as a bug anymore.
With my position secure and elf negotiations imminent, no need to roam outside recklessly.
With no major incidents, polishing internals to match my new standing was far more efficient.
In those months, Saladin not only repaired but upgraded his wrecked puppets.
Miron steadily grew via the frenzy Heterogenous Power I'd awakened in him. Long road ahead, though.
The Blizzard Knight Order, led by Beskin, mastered my refined Flame Wheel, boosting overall prowess.
Training assuming High Orc battles honed their multi-foe skills against master-level foes. Though throne-sitters weren't mere masters.
They'd perform admirably against most.
'Not bad at all.'
Weather warming properly, time to head to the Beast Forest for elves.
That meant leaving family again.
Before then, build my position maximally on new evaluations.
Smooth elf trade, and family leaps another step.
Then, reputation rivaling siblings.
'Progress on Pankration and Earth decent too.'
That alien aura remnant from my regression accelerated Earth cultivation.
Didn't pinpoint its nature yet.
Now, power and evaluation.
Completely different from past me.
"Good work, Third Young Master."
After washing off training dust, Beskin awaited at the bath exit.
"Hm? What brings you here, Sir Beskin? Thought you'd be deep in training."
I eyed him curiously. He was the most diligent knight.
No way he'd idle waiting without reason.
"Er... Well, you see. Sigh..."
Beskin scratched his cheek awkwardly—uncharacteristic hesitation.
Only one reason for that: Unpleasant situation, no escape.
"Let's head to the lord's office first."
Beskin led instead of explaining. Bad vibes.
'Something's up.'
Things had gone too smoothly lately.
"You'll need to head to the capital."
Ah, damn. What now? Please, no.
Father's abrupt declaration nearly drew curses, but I barely held back filial impiety.
"What's the occasion?"
Figure out cause first. Memory incomplete, but major events recalled.
Elf ruckus unforeseen, but my doing.
Chain reactions changing things?
Recent peace suggested no big deals this time.
Whoosh!
Father tossed a small envelope instead of answering.
Golden script adorned the front.
<Spring Festival Invitation>
The Spring Festival gathered kingdom heirs for camaraderie—a next-gen social.
Annual event; siblings attended alternately. I knew it.
"Spring Festival? Holding it this year too?"
I stared at the invite in disbelief.
Past life, it vanished around now.
Father deemed bug-me family shame, never sent.
Plus, last famine's damage halted it for years.
By recovery, Holy Empire stirred trouble.
So why revive now?
'Our 40,000 poods aid barely covers kingdom survival.'
Father nodded agreement.
"Post-famine, even royals struggled to host."
He eyed me meaningfully.
"But 'this year alone,' thanks to you, they are."
"Ah."
One line explained.
Originally, famine tilted power to Sword Family.
Royals skipped revival, using Holy Empire excuse. Avoid Sword Family puppeteering.
But now, I stemmed royal defections.
Thus, King Horn—despite my aid—hosts to flaunt Shield-royal ties, rally northern nobles.
'Complicated.'
Probably kingdom's most headache-inducing festival ever.
Prince Julius, Sword Family's Victor van Dmitri—next-gen stars already power-playing.
'Past life, all futile anyway.'
Whole continent crushed under Ibarella equally. Meaningless.
Oh well. Direct politicking not my style.
I hinted refusal to father.
"If I may, my lord, haven't I earned my keep lately?"
Who averted elf war brink? Me, suffering.
Shove this hassle to siblings.
Father nodded, not denying.
"True. You've more than paid back years of freeloading, impressively so. However."
Ah. Dread.
"Ares and Mercy plan joint Dragon Mountains sweep. For smooth elf trade, need roads not just to Beast Forest but Dragon foothills."
Trapped.