Chapter 63

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Translator: Ace

Chapter: 63

Chapter Title: Whispers of the Northern Barbarians

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Some time had passed since the demon's execution. Yet the unsettled atmosphere refused to die down easily.

It was all because of a single rumor that had swept through the capital.

—The northern barbarians are eyeing the Empire!

Invasions by the northern barbarians were practically an annual event, so they didn't stir much excitement on their own. The real issue was that this time, the scale would be on a whole different level from last year.

Dozens or hundreds of barbarian tribes scattered across the north were rapidly unifying into one.

How massive was this force? A leader known as the "Great Chieftain," commanding tens of thousands of warriors under him, had already emerged.

A few dozen barbarians raiding villages for loot wasn't much of a problem. But thousands or tens of thousands descending en masse? Even the Empire would find that burdensome.

And it seemed Asteron was feeling that burden too.

Enough to ask Ian about it, at least.

"Left arm. You've heard the rumors, right?"

"Which ones, Your Highness?"

"The northern barbarians. They're ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unifying."

"To be precise, it's more like the emergence of a new power than full unification. But the nuance is spot on. Of course I've heard."

"What do you think? You think they're really coming?"

Asteron's casual tone made it seem trivial, but Ian caught a hint of worry beneath it.

He was pretending to be unfazed, but clearly concerned.

'As expected of the crown prince.'

Well, not necessarily because he was the crown prince.

Any imperial citizen would think the same.

Everyone on the streets was buzzing about the barbarians—who wouldn't worry?

That public anxiety would turn into shaken morale, so he was probably stressing over it immensely.

Ian gave the crown prince a firm answer.

"They won't invade."

"Really?"

"Yes. No need to worry."

"You sure? The others are saying it's a hundred percent they'll come this year."

"They might invade eventually. But not this year."

He was certain.

History proved it.

No matter how little Ian immersed himself in the story, he wouldn't forget major historical events like this.

"Even at the minimum, they won't come within three years. No need to worry too much. We can prepare slowly and fend them off easily."

"Huh. The ministers are all insisting they'll hit within the year, so we need to mobilize troops now. Your take's different."

"Yes. They won't come."

"Why do you think that?"

Ian panicked. He hadn't thought that far.

'Why? Because history says so.'

But he couldn't say that, so he pieced together an answer.

"First, even unified, they lack the military might to rival the Empire. Second, infighting among the tribes is fierce. And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠furthermore..."

Ian racked his brain, but Asteron cut him off.

"Ah, enough. No need to hear more. Got it. I'll tell Father that. Good work."

"Pardon? Tell him what? What do you— Your Highness? Your Highness?"

Ian couldn't finish. Asteron had already turned and left.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

'He asked me just to relay to the Emperor?'

It was absurd, but Ian shrugged it off.

'Whatever. It's not like I said anything wrong.'

Barbarians or whatever—none of that was Ian's concern right now.

What was there to worry about?

Instead of fretting over that, holing up in his lab after court was far more rewarding.

Now, what to do today?

The first thing that caught his eye was the experience points.

'Man, it really crawls up slow.'

With little work and plenty of free time, he'd poured hours into alchemy research. Yet the gains were barely a mouse turd's worth.

Over a month of effort, and less than 200 EXP? Oof.

'Of course, the absolute amount of research completed is low.'

EXP came from successful research. Slow progress meant no gains.

And he couldn't rush it— even minor studies took days, longer ones over ten.

Take now: Two basic studies in the new "Ether Exploration" field, already on day three.

'No time for other research. Nothing much today. Manufacturing grind?'

Ian shook his head. Not a great idea.

Post-Master Alchemist, manufacturing efficiency tanked—worse than doing nothing.

'Guess Master level means no more grinding your way up.'

He got it.

Masters were masters because they'd transcended.

No progress from rote repetition—that defined a "Master" alchemist.

'Ugh, guess I'll twiddle my thumbs all week...'

Ian paused. He'd remembered something.

'Oh yeah, didn't a hidden clue unlock when Alchemy leveled?'

He quickly dug through system logs.

Over a month old—took a few hours, but he found it.

Ah, right. The unlocked hidden specialization.

[Clue 1: Achievement 'Potential for Life Improvement']

Already seen.

[Clue 2-1: Complete research project 'Collective Soul Network']

[Clue 2-2: Train 'Consciousness Link' to the extreme. The final clue may appear. new!]

Two new clues.

Split into 2-1 and 2-2 oddly.

'Ah, completing 2-1 unlocked 2-2.'

So 2-2 was key.

'Train to the extreme. Master the skill?'

Master it, evolve it, or perfect mastery.

Didn't matter which.

Ian just needed to raise proficiency either way.

'Same grind regardless.'

Goal set.

'Can't resist hidden content.'

Hidden meant good rewards.

Self-Synthesis alone gave him a spare life.

'Let's do it now.'

He'd planned how to use Consciousness Link.

Per description, simple soul-to-soul linking.

But for a Master-level research reward? There had to be more.

And Ian had the answer from the research name.

Research Project: Collective Soul Network.

Not individual—applicable to groups.

'Let's test.'

Ian used Consciousness Link to contact Arkbon.

From now on, all contact via this—for proficiency gains.

—Father. Did you call?

Arkbon's voice echoed perfectly in his head. Still trippy.

—Yeah. You busy?

—Not busy.

—Perfect. If you're free, I'll come to you.

—To me? Father?

—Yeah. Wait a bit.

Ddol Ddoli, Lara, Kez—all upgraded. Arkbon? Never.

Time to fix that.

Being a high mage meant fewer spatial constraints than most.

Ian was one such high mage.

One who'd learned 'Warp.' What did that mean?

Distances taking over ten days? Done in one.

'Warp's the best.'

Ian recalled the past.

Management Division days, mere months ago.

The ordeal to Necropolis.

Swapping warp portals, days on foot, hiring guides.

At least ten days of hard march.

Now? One snap.

Sure, it guzzled mana like mad and chunked mental power—efficiency be damned.

But how convenient?

'No wonder towers hoard it.'

Too good not to monopolize.

Even if released, few could learn it.

—Greet him. My father. The one you must pledge loyalty to.

In a blink, he was in the black wasteland's Necropolis.

The desolate ruin city, devoid of human warmth. There, Ian received a lavish welcome.

From whom?

—Our father.

—We greet you.

—Loyalty to Father.

Skeletons.

"Uh, um."

Hundreds? No, thousands.

A massive horde bowing politely? Unprecedented for Ian.

Until now.

The feeling? Utterly bizarre. Indescribable.

'Never thought I'd get formal bows from undead.'

Live long and see wonders.

"Good. Nice to meet you."

—Yes. Our king spoke much of you.

—Great father who birthed our king.

Uh, not birthed. Created.

—We wish to express infinite gratitude to such a father.

"Ah, enough greetings. That's plenty."

—Yes.

—Yes.

—Yes.

'Eek, creepy.'

Full surround sound vibes.

Goosebumps begged to be rubbed, but he held back. All eyes on him—gotta keep cool.

'Nightmares tonight? Arkbon's fault.'

Skeleton dreams? Guaranteed.

—Father. These are my army. Impressive?

"Impressive? Insanely so."

Sincere.

Truly insane.

'Nightmare fuel.'

—Knew it.

"Yeah. Building an army this huge? Amazing, Arkbon."

Still proud.

From mere bone scrap to legion lord.

'And I did nothing...'

Moving.

"Let's start with upgrades."

Arkbon Upgrade Project.

First: Engrave 'Return' magic circle. Like Ddol Ddoli—easy summon/return.

Not needed now, but someday.

Success.

Tight space doubled time, but engraving was easy.

Now Arkbon could summon/return freely like Ddol Ddoli.

'Now the main dish.'

'Ugh, takes forever.'

Four stars too.

But performance would match.

Ddol Ddoli glanced around. Chilly northern winds slapped its cheeks repeatedly.

Stone cheeks didn't sting, but it focused on the wind's touch.

A special sensation in this biting gale.

'Magic detected.'

At first, doubted—too faint.

But real. Demonic magic. Unmistakable.

This faint magic rode the cold winds. Follow the wind, find the source.

'Ddol Ddoli never misses magic. Not once.'

Blue grasslands appeared. Patches of grass everywhere. Entered the vast Northern Great Plains.

Ddol Ddoli didn't know. Just followed the wind.

Then.

—Hm?

Ddol Ddoli stopped. Something far off.

Smoke rising, wooden fences, houses. Figures with colorful face paint. Many.

'Human village.'

Aha. Humans live here.

'Humans not enemies. Ddol Ddoli avoid human village.'

Ddol Ddoli hesitated. Avoiding meant crossing wind path.

Avoiding good, but strays from magic.

'No choice. Ddol Ddoli go through.'

Owner's orders first. No harm preferred, but priority.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Ddol Ddoli walked. Sudden quakes drew humans outside. Spotting it, they toppled in shock.

"Gasp! What is that?!"

"M-monster!"

"It's a monster!"

Whispers heard.

Bwooo!

Horn blared. Humans charged with weapons.

Quickly formed ranks. Front: shields and swords. Rear: arrows nocked.

Frontman spoke.

"Monster! State your identity! I am Ratkum, top warrior of the Cold Hammer Tribe!"

—I am Ddol Ddoli.

"Wh-what business in our tribe?"

—Ddoli no attack. Just passing.

"Passing?"

Ratkum's eyes wavered. Long silence. Pondering.

Finally.

"No! We can't let you pass!"

—Why?

"Plains are sacred. Can't let monster tread sacred ground!"

—Sorry. But Ddol Ddoli must go. Catch bad guy.

Ddol Ddoli advanced. Earth shook. Humans held firm. Ratkum gritted teeth.

"Attack!"

Humans charged. Ddol Ddoli scratched head. Tricky.

'Ddoli no want hurt good humans. But must go.'

Thought of solution.

'Ddoli just go.'

Ignored attacks, plodded on.

Barely hurt anyway.

Meanwhile, Ian upgrading Arkbon.

Sudden alert widened his eyes.

"Huh?"

—Master. What's wrong?

"Nothing."

Definitely something.

'What the?'

Sent to hunt demons, now subjugating barbarians out of nowhere?

No explanation fit.

Ddol Ddoli was immeasurable.

'Why?'

Really, why?