Chapter 18
Chapter 18
"Huuuu—"
Rubian exhaled deeply as she dispersed her mana.
The mana field spread outward in concentric circles, making the surrounding space feel as though she were tracing it with her fingertips.
All humans inherently possessed mana.
Unless one had reached an exceptional level of concealment, dispersing mana like this should have revealed any presence.
But... there was nothing.
No trace of Delam could be detected anywhere.
"Hmm?"
This time, she twitched her nose.
Rubian had been born with an exceptionally keen sense of smell. Normally, it was merely above average, but when enhanced with mana?
She could detect every scent imaginable.
And humans were the sum of their odors—sweat, oils, clothing...
No matter how much one tried to mask their scent, there were limits.
"Hmm?"
Yet again, she sensed nothing!
She had circled the same 100-meter radius of the forest multiple times.
But neither her mana nor her nose picked up anything.
Occasionally, the scent of earth drifted on the wind—but that was only natural in a forest.
"Sir, I can't see him anywhere."
"...Neither can I. What in the world?"
The unit commander's face stiffened at Rubian's response.
The commander had learned a mana technique, but it was a generic one—and he hadn't been practicing it for long.
Rubian, however, was different.
Born into one of the kingdom's five great noble families, she had begun training in mana techniques from an early age—techniques renowned even among the kingdom's elite.
And now, she was a mid-rank knight!
Yet even she couldn't find him?
There was only one explanation.
"He must have cheated. He left the forest."
"...Huh."
"Poor training results can be fixed—we can always teach him again. But a Special Forces operative breaking the rules? That's unforgivable."
"......."
"Still, out of respect for you, Knight Rubian, I won't charge him with desertion. It's a shame, really. After these past three days... sigh."
The commander's voice grew louder—not out of anger, but frustration.
And rightfully so.
Delam's training performance could be summed up in two words:
[Unprecedented.]
Top-tier talent? A once-in-a-generation genius?
No, he was beyond that.
He had left ordinary soldiers in the dust.
To find comparable records, one would have to look at knights.
But that didn't mean they could overlook this.
The Special Forces was an organization built on trust and loyalty.
What if he was bribed by the enemy?
What if he abandoned his comrades when missions got tough?
If they accepted him solely for his skills, he could become the dagger that doomed tens of thousands of kingdom soldiers.
"No."
"But Knight Rubian—"
"I believe in him. The boy I saw wasn't the type to do such a thing. He's young, but more composed than anyone, thoughtful, and the very image of a loyal knight."
"......."
"So come out now, boy."
"......."
"I've prepared food for you. I didn't know what you'd like, so I made a variety. It's my first time cooking, actually."
The commander suddenly felt sorry for the female knight.
She must be struggling to accept it.
Regardless of rank or skill, betrayal from someone you trusted was a terrible experience for anyone.
"Is there lamb ribs?"
"...Huh?!"
Then—just then—a youthful voice rang out.
It was slightly hoarse from hours of silence, but unmistakably Delam's.
Rustle.
A patch of grass shifted nearby.
Dirt and grass tumbled from his hair and back as he stood.
The two were even more stunned than when they'd heard his voice.
He hadn't been far away or in some unexpected place.
Delam had been right beside them the whole time!
"Wha—? How—?"
"I could've held out longer, but you called me out. And I was getting hungry—must be past lunchtime already."
Delam spoke to the dumbfounded commander, who was too shocked to form words.
But one person reacted differently.
"You little devil!"
"Ahem."
Rubian lunged forward and pulled Delam into a tight embrace.
Delam, slightly embarrassed, rubbed his nose.
No matter his age or skill, being genuinely trusted by someone was a good feeling.
Especially by someone he hadn't known for long.
Fwip fwip fwip.
And so, no one noticed.
A single mole burrowing back into the earth...
The table was laden with enough food to rival a battlefield feast.
And, as expected of a knight, greens were nearly absent.
Just meat, meat, and more meat—including Delam's favorite, lamb ribs.
Back when he was a shepherd, how often had those stubborn sheep refused to listen?
Every time, he'd wanted to slaughter and eat them.
"Is it good?"
"Yeah, it's edible."
Chomp chomp.
Delam ate endlessly.
Rubian chuckled as she watched.
"Edible," he says, yet he's devouring it like that?
Ah, the stubborn pride of adolescence.
Too proud to admit it's delicious, yet shoveling it in like it's his last meal.
'She really can't cook.'
But Delam was being sincere.
Rubian's "carefully prepared" food wasn't just bad—it was inedible even as a polite lie.
Every dish screamed:
[10 minutes on low heat? Just blast it on high for 1 minute!]
[Need onions? Scallions are close enough!]
How could food made like that possibly taste good?
Yet Delam ate heartily for one simple reason:
A soldier eats anything.
Even as the Supreme Commander, Delam was no exception.
It was a universal law.
'And it's meat. After regressing, all I ate back home was potato stew, potato bread, roasted potatoes, boiled potatoes...'
Honestly, being conscripted was an upgrade food-wise.
The problem was dying before getting to eat much of it.
"Aren't you going to eat, Sir?"
"Just watching you fills me up."
Rubian smiled faintly.
Delam smiled back, but inwardly grumbled.
This is the problem with people who can't cook.
They don't taste while cooking—or even after.
Eventually, nearly five servings' worth of plates were emptied.
Rubian rang a small bell in the barracks, and a servant entered to clear the table.
As a mid-rank knight and a scion of a noble house, she enjoyed such luxuries even on the battlefield.
"Someone from your family, I take it?"
"Correct. How'd you know?"
"Most would be too afraid to follow into a warzone. The fact that they did speaks volumes about their trust in you—meaning they've served you for years, not just recently."
"Sharp eyes."
Rubian was impressed.
Though they'd only known each other a few days, Delam never ceased to amaze her.
Unshakable resolve. Exceptional skill. Superhuman learning ability.
The boy had too many strengths to count, but his most remarkable trait was his observation.
'Yes. I'll pass it on.'
Rubian made her decision.
The impulse had been nagging at her, and no matter how reckless it seemed, she resolved to do that thing she'd been holding back.
The more she watched him, the stronger her intuition grew.
I must secure this boy now.
Even if it means giving him my most prized possession.
"Boy... have you ever considered learning a mana technique?"
"...What?"
'Has she lost her mind?'
Delam stared at Rubian in disbelief.
Mana techniques weren't just methods of gathering mana.
They were the foundation of the [nobility] itself.
The gap between those who knew them and those who didn't was as vast as heaven and earth—a system naturally formed from that disparity.
Thus, mana techniques were invaluable.
Of course, learning one didn't automatically make you a noble.
You had to at least become a low-rank knight to earn a baronetcy.
Learning a basic mana technique late in life made that nearly impossible.
But if you couldn't, what about your children?
Teach them from childhood, and your family could rise to nobility.
That was how precious they were—
'And she's offering to teach me?'
Naturally, mana techniques weren't shared lightly.
Yet here she was, offering one to a common soldier.
'After knowing me for just a few days?'
Delam felt both joy and sorrow.
He'd thought he'd lucked into a golden opportunity—but now he worried she might be insane.
Still, he had to respond.
Putting on his best shocked expression, he stammered:
"M-Me? A mana technique?"
"Mhm. Not our family's secret technique, mind you—just the introductory one we teach our squires. But it's better than most basic techniques out there. It'll serve you well."
Most great families had at least three mana techniques:
What Rubian was offering was the third—an introductory technique, but one from a great house.
It would easily rival advanced techniques from lesser families.
"Something so precious... for me...?"
"It's fine. It's just the introductory one. But you must never teach it to anyone—not your friends, not your family, not even any children you might have someday."
"Understood."
"Can you swear it?"
"I, Delam, solemnly swear never to disclose the mana technique taught to me by Knight Rubian to any other soul."
Rubian nodded firmly.
The oath held no binding power.
But Delam's steadfast nature was proof enough.
'I never thought I'd get a mana technique this soon.'
For once, Delam was genuinely happy.
Of course, it couldn't compare to the supreme mana technique of the continent—Fleurex Arts—personally bestowed upon him by the emperor.
But what mattered was the [justification].
Truthfully, Delam defeating the Barbarian Warrior had been a stretch.
A boy with no mana defeating a mana user?
Absurd—but Rubian's intervention had smoothed things over.
In the military, background mattered more the higher you climbed.
Connections, bloodlines, regional ties—all played a role.
But surprisingly, the biggest factor was [trust].
The belief that someone wasn't a traitor to the kingdom.
Solid proof they weren't a spy.
And a clear background?
That was the first filter.
Delam killing the Barbarian Warrior had been problematic precisely because it raised suspicions—what if he was a sleeper agent planted by a foreign house after being taught their mana technique?
But now, that suspicion was gone.
Thanks to Rubian's backing.
And from now on, he wouldn't have to hide his mana.
A simple "Knight Rubian taught me" would erase all doubts.
"Since we're on the topic, shall we begin now?"
"Can I learn it right away?"
"That depends on your talent. First, you must sense mana. It's difficult alone, so I'll guide you."
"Thank you."
Rubian took Delam's hand.
His calluses were even harder than hers—a farmer's hands honed by relentless training.
Though Rubian had always taken pride in her own battle-hardened hands, today, for some reason, she felt oddly self-conscious.
"Can you feel anything from my hand?"
"...I can feel all the effort you've poured into your training. Firm, yet smooth."
"D-Don't say strange things...! I'm channeling mana into you—focus on that."
"Ah! Hmm... There's something warm. Like heated air, but more tangible?"
"......!"
Rubian's eyes widened.
Had he already sensed the mana...?