Misguided Parental Hearts
I used the lull to draw up a growth plan for Sharl. It was absurd for someone like me, burdened with the fate of the world, to fuss over something so trivial, but the relentless nagging from the women around me left me no choice.
First, I set Sharl's walking milestone at six months. When I casually asked Udin, he advised it would take at least a year, but I slashed it in half and pushed forward with six months. If he was my son, he could do it—I believed that firmly, and there were precedents, after all.
Next, I scheduled literacy at one year old. Plenty called it impossible, but my brother Yozef had memorized forty thousand ancient runes by age five, so I had faith my son could pull it off too.
Of course, he might not. But that wouldn't be my fault. The Karl family were genuine geniuses. If he couldn't, it had to be his mother's side of the bloodline. If he took after Padilla in brains, we'd be in trouble—that worried me.
I also allocated from one to two years old for mastering basic swordsmanship and awakening mana.
A year was quick, but not unheard of among sword or magic prodigies, and if he was my son, he'd nail it—I believed that.
Afterward, I'd rapidly boost his mana with the spirit elixirs airlifted from the Eastern Continent. Feeding him one a day as a tonic, he'd hit top-tier Expert swordsman in half a year, I figured.
That left timing his ascent to Master. A year seemed plenty. Sure, it'd taken me four years from top Expert to Master, but subtracting three years of stagnation, it was under one—so Sharl could manage, I believed.
The issue was his environment. Mine and Sharl's growth backgrounds were worlds apart. I'd surged in swordsmanship surviving the apocalypse era, but my son lacked that pressure.
But as his dad, if I engineered the right hellish setup and drilled him hard, he'd hit Master as early as I did—no doubt in my mind.
'Damn right. A dad has to do that much for his boy.'
So, reaching Master at three and a half, it'd take another two years to top-tier Master, I estimated. That's how long it'd taken me.
The real hurdle was becoming a Mind Master.
A Mind Master delved into perfect mental realms and basic soul domains. Ascending to that pure pinnacle was no easy feat.
But I slotted it at one year. This timing hit right before the apocalypse. For Sharl to navigate that era wisely, he'd need at least Mind Master level, right?
Now, smack in the apocalypse's heart, with Sharl at six and a half—a bit over a year from humanity's fall, per my past life's history—it was time to seriously plot his growth from there.
But I'd delay that phase a few more years.
Hence my push to develop and fortify Jores Island. That's when I'd crown Sharl a Soul Master. Survival would demand it.
After that, I'd hand him humanity's salvation and retire from the front lines to enjoy my final days in peace.
"What do you think, Arieta? Pretty solid, right?"
In the office, Arieta eyed my schedule warily before dropping her verdict.
"Show this to Padilla, and you won't die peacefully."
"Why not?"
"It's ridiculous."
"Eh, it's got some realism. People have done these things before. Not every baby's first steps are after six months, but projecting geniuses' timelines piece by piece, this timeframe works."
Arieta shut it down without a second thought.
"Absolutely not. A kid under seven becoming a Mind Master? Impossible."
"Nah, drill him and it'll happen. Look at my cousin, Crown Prince Simon—at ten, he conjured a hundred thousand arrows from sand. That's pure creation, god-tier beyond Soul Master. And he pulled it off."
Arieta narrowed her eyes.
"You saw it yourself?"
I rolled my eyes.
"Not with my own eyes, but everyone's said it. They teach it that way in school too."
"I wouldn't know. Anyway, if you value your life, loosen the timeline. It's way too tight."
"Yeah?"
"Yes. Add at least twenty years. Even that's risky."
I shot her a lazy glare. She didn't know the apocalypse, so she spouted this nonsense. For Sharl to survive that hell, this growth rate was baseline.
Then Padilla entered, beaming as she approached with good news.
"Grand Prince, Grollmog's sent an envoy."
I grinned wide. Grollmog couldn't hold back and dispatched them. That upped the odds of Yosrahim Empire sending a high-level diplomatic team too. Hearing of our pact with Grollmog, they'd have no choice.
Play this right, mediate well, and we could halt the war.
"For real? Where are they now?"
"Meeting Zenbe at Bardru."
Bardru Fortress was Kara Kingdom's northwesternmost stronghold bordering the Orc Plains. Far from Braram, but with river trade via the Ofis River, ships could reach Braram in a week.
Portal tower from there? Instant to Kara heartland.
"Prep to receive the envoy fast. Make the welcome top-notch."
"Already told the Foreign Minister on the way."
"Good girl."
Padilla eyed the paper in my hand slyly.
"So, Grand Prince, what's that document?"
I hid it behind my back. With Arieta's advice, I'd revise before showing Padilla.
"Oh, just rough thoughts on raising Sharl. Skeleton only—no point showing yet."
"Really? Let me peek."
"Told you, it's too rough."
"I'll judge for myself."
Caving to her prodding, I handed it over. She scanned it closely, tilting her head.
"Is this actually feasible?"
"Not impossible. Piecing geniuses' lives, the math works. Especially sword growth to top Master—I've got a real sample right here: me."
Padilla nodded.
"True, he's our kid, so he'll manage. But there's a fatal flaw."
"What?"
"Sharl's heir to Kara's throne. Needs training to be a great king too."
"Ah, right. Stretch the timeline a bit?"
Padilla waved it off.
"No need. I'll slot it in gaps. This is fine."
Arieta, eavesdropping, exploded.
"Padilla! You trying to kill your own kid? Follow this, and Sharl's dead!"
Padilla brushed it off casually.
"Royal bloodlines are all prodigies. Take me—I memorized all ancient runes at three, mastered Kara's laws and etiquette by five, and at six worked the miracle opening Kara Lake's waterways, shocking the world."
"Can you do it now?"
"Forgot it all. Kids don't remember baby stuff well, right? But everyone says I did those miracles. Kara's people believe it too."
Arieta's eyes twitched.
"Nope. Leave him to you, and Sharl wastes away. From now on, I raise him. Step back."
Padilla looked baffled.
"Why you? Sharl's my son."
"But I'm his godmother. Got a duty to protect him. Even as mom, if you can't separate royal propaganda from reality..."
"Why the fuss? All moms raise kids like this now."
"Who?"
"My friend's mom."
I nodded along.
"Yeah, my mom did too."
Arieta bolted from the office, yelling.
"Anyway, Sharl's education needs my approval! I won't stand for this!"
Padilla glanced at me slyly.
"What's with Arieta?"
"Dunno. Probably doesn't get parental hearts yet. No kids of her own."
"Makes sense."
Still, a relief. Arieta pitching in as godmother lightened the parenting load.
Ten days later, Grollmog's diplomatic delegation arrived in Kara. And their lead was a heavyweight: Turei, a top-tier Master Berserker respected not just in orc society but across the continent—below Zenbe, but no slouch.
At the diplomacy table, I faced Turei head-on for serious talk.
"Great Chieftain Grollmog deeply worries over Kara's recent moves."
"Yeah. So?"
"We don't know your intent, but drop the tension and return to amity at once—or face fitting retribution from us."
Turei oozed arrogance.
Orcs were like that. Their strength-worshipping society solved everything with force.
Diplomacy via talk wouldn't work with force-only types. Had to crush them with superior power.
"What retribution?"
"A brutal bloodbath."
I smirked.
"Oh yeah? Got an army to throw at Kara?"
"Bring our full host and smash you first."
"Then what about Yosrahim's border?"
"Orc Plains are vast. Hitting you then them's no delay."
I propped my chin on the table.
"Hmm. Not bad, but can you actually beat Kara?"
"We got three hundred thousand strong."
"Pool ours and Bastain Kingdom's? Five hundred thousand. Plus we're defending—huge edge."
Turei snorted. Orcs revered strength, but basic math was drilled in.
"Numbers mean squat. Our warriors outfight yours one-on-one."
"That's pre-magic bullet launchers and magic cannons. Now it's trigger finger first wins. And Kara's got the most."
"But we have Mind Master Berserker Grollmog."
"Funny, we got one too. Armida sis—heard of her?"
"Useless. A human female can't match great chieftain Grollmog."
"Wanna bet?"
"No need."
I eyed ridiculous Turei. Armida sis was darkness forces' holy icon; Grollmog, knowing that, couldn't fight her.
Challenging her as a darkness faithful? Blasphemy. Grollmog would yield by default.
"Come find out. But remember one thing: Kara doesn't tolerate enemy challenges, like you orcs."
Turei shot up.
"A challenge?!"
"Don't play victim. You're the aggressors? Three hundred thousand massing our border forces response."
"But we said no intent to invade Kara!"
"Why trust that?"
"I'm honest. Trust me."
I shrugged.
"I distrust 'honest' guys most. They backstab hard at key moments. Been there—hurt like hell."
"White Mask! Insulting me?!"
"Just my life philosophy."
Turei sighed deeply, rubbing his face.
"Enough chatter. To the point: Kara won't withdraw?"
"Will if you disband your warriors. Costs a fortune garrisoning borders."
"Can't—Yosrahim's mustering a million."
"Same here. Your three hundred thousand forces it."
Turei glared suspiciously.
"You secretly allied with Yosrahim?"
"Hell no. We crave peace, zero war vibes."
Turei sneered.
"Think we'll buy that?"
"Should. Kara hates war—recent invasion scars."
"Prove it convincingly, and we'll trust you."
The line I'd waited for. I raised three fingers.
"Deal. Propose a conditional tripartite alliance right here."
"Conditional what?"
"Simple: If Yosrahim or you Grollmog attacks, Kara and Bastain ally with the victim to smash the aggressor."
Turei gawked.
"Why would you?"
"We love peace."
"Not carving up world hegemony?"
"Obviously. We're not charity. Right?"
Turei sat slowly.
If Grollmog wanted no war, this was irresistible.
Kara: trade and tech superpower. Bastain: faded but mighty. United, they'd repel Yosrahim easily.
"Not bad."
"Wins for all but first striker. But no tricks—provoke or scheme war on the other, and we hit the plotter."
"Got it. Will."
"Contact Grollmog. Can't decide solo, right?"
"True. See you later."
"Yeah."
Thus ended the first Grollmog talks smoothly. Short, but fruitful. Conditional alliance now public.
If it worked, history's Grollmog raid on Karl territory vanishes, and Yosrahim's full Orc Plains invasion too.