The Real Battle Begins
"I offer my greetings to His Majesty Harcon Bendain, the rightful heir of the late and most exalted Emperor Harcon Antaniel, and the sole sovereign of the Giranlek Empire."
Had Jincheon been present, he would have cracked the man across the face while declaring that he had not suffered a headache since his Hwan-gol-tal-tae—yet somehow this fellow had managed the feat. The greeting, drowning in florid embellishment, spilled naturally from the lips of the handsome man kneeling on one knee.
"I am Baron Telten Ivor, appointed by the mouth of His Grace Duke Shuprit Hamilton, lord of the Roltecan, Jirain, and Hobert star systems, who swore his loyalty to the late Emperor."
The handsome man who had introduced himself as Baron Ivor of House Telten did not pause for breath; he continued pouring out lines thick with ornamental praise.
"My master, Duke Shuprit Hamilton, upon hearing that lawless traitors were pursuing Your Majesty, fretted night and day. He detached only the swiftest vessels from the escort fleet that had been bound for Your Majesty and arrived here with all haste. Thanks to this, we have been able to lift the danger from Your Majesty—and, by extension, the dark clouds hanging over the Empire. Yet seeing the condition of Your Majesty’s personal flagship, the Rastold Silverion, I can scarcely dare imagine the hardships Your Majesty has endured. Punish this humble servant for arriving so late, and do not doubt His Grace’s loyalty."
Of course, actually punishing them for lateness would have been the act of idiots kicking away their own lifeline.
"Had it not been for you, We would have fallen into the hands of those lawless rebels. We pardon your fault; never again petition Us for forgiveness over this matter."
Bendain, barely eight to ten years old, answered with practiced ease—whether from prior rehearsal or his own judgment, no one could say.
Eirin, who had slipped into her private quarters under the pretext of freshening up, yanked out the dildo, changed into leggings, and hurried back to the young emperor’s side, was swallowing her irritation.
Those men were already positioned nearby. They planned to burst out the moment we were in real danger and play the white-horse princes.
Yet one unexpected development had arisen.
Jincheon had smashed through the enemy lines and displayed the full power of a one-man army.
Seeing that the Imperial Guard was about to win, they had scrambled to join the fight and claim a share of the victory.
Of course Duke Hamilton would never rebel or harbor other designs.
He simply meant to enlarge the rewards he would reap once this civil war was won.
So three star systems still aren’t enough for him.
Shuprit Hamilton was a grand duke who ruled three prime star systems—the most powerful noble after the emperor himself.
He belongs to the loyalist camp for now, but with an opportunity like this he will not sit idle.
From a third-party view one might think, We’re short on strength as it is, and already they’re playing internal politics. Defeat flag raised. Yet that was simply the nature of those who held power.
Regrettably, the fairy-tale unity of hearts burning with shared rage against rebellion only ever appeared when common interests vanished; everywhere else it remained the stuff of children’s stories.
"From this moment we shall protect His Majesty. The enemy will no longer be able to pursue us, so please set your mind at ease."
One thing was certain: as Baron Ivor claimed, the danger of pursuit had vanished.
Moreover, the escort fleet resupplied their depleted stores, and every crew member aboard the Rastold Silverion raised a cheer of pure joy.
"Now the real fighting begins."
Jincheon alone recognized that the true opening of the civil war started here.
Until now the rebels had focused on seizing the emperor and coaxing a leaderless loyalist faction. With the attempt on the emperor failed and a center of gravity formed among the loyalists, they would abandon persuasion and turn to force of arms.
"Jincheon. What are you going to do now?"
Heliane, standing beside him, asked the question.
By “what,” she meant whether he intended to accept a fief or not.
"Haven’t decided yet."
"More precisely, you haven’t confirmed whether coexistence with the Dowager is possible, have you?"
At Calsira’s sharp question Jincheon smiled and nodded.
"Of course. I never abandon my bitches. You two and the Dowager are all mine, so I have to find an answer that satisfies all three. That’s a male’s duty."
"Common sense says becoming a noble of the Giranlek Empire is the way."
As Heliane said, among the answers that could please all three, the most likely was accepting a fief as a Giranlek noble.
"I don’t know about that."
"You don’t know? Why?"
"No matter how tightly I control things with power, people’s hearts make situations flip every which way more often than not. In a situation power alone can’t lock down, unimaginable things will keep happening. That’s what makes life interesting, though."
"Wow, you sounded like an old man this time."
"If you can say that in bed, I’ll accept the compliment."
"Ugh. It was a compliment."
Jincheon always laughed and did whatever he pleased; even the women who knew his true nature sometimes felt they were looking at a peer who merely spoke a little more maturely. This time, however, the advice had carried real weight of years, so Heliane had called him an old man—and Jincheon apparently had not taken it kindly.
"But Jincheon."
"Hm?"
"Once we join the loyalists, time with the Dowager will grow scarce. What will you do?"
Heliane was right. Once they entered loyalist territory, Eirin and the young emperor would devote themselves to solidifying the faction’s core; meeting her would become extremely difficult.
"Don’t worry. I’ve already talked that part over with her."
While holding Eirin, Jincheon had arranged means to keep seeing her. Fortunately the woman who had discovered feminine happiness could no longer imagine a life without him, and she had actively drawn up several plans. They had chosen the most realistic one; the rest could wait until they reached loyalist space.
"Rest hard while you can. This is the last real leisure you’ll get."
"Heh. That’s already decided."
"Do you have any idea how long we’ve been waiting?"
Jincheon grinned at the sight of the women starved for his cock.
"Come this way."
Checking the security systems, he led them toward an empty place. While everyone else cheered at having survived, two women in a secluded corner were already wrapped in a man’s arms, beginning to pant.
Several days later, after linking up with Longgrion Hardan’s main force and entering loyalist territory, the crew of the Rastold Silverion threw a small party.
A colossal celebration awaited them in Duke Hamilton’s capital, yet Eirin first ordered a party among the crew who had propped one another up and lived through hell together.
"You’ve all worked hard! I have much I want to say, but I will keep it short! Thank you! Today is your day!"
"Waaaaah!!"
Knowing exactly how to handle soldiers, Eirin offered brief, solid gratitude and opened the festivities.
Even though the food came from the escort fleet’s military rations, they had been lavish with seasonings and spices, making it decent enough. On top of that they cracked open every bottle of morale-boosting liquor they had been hoarding—usable as emergency drinking water in the worst case—and the atmosphere ignited.
"Hmm. So the alcohol here is still alcohol-based."
An immigrant from another world and no great drinker by nature, Jincheon savored the uniquely sharp bite of this world’s fine liquor for the first time.
"Pwah~ Nothing beats a drink after finishing something hard."
"Pfft! Unnie, that just now was pure old-man energy."
"…Want to have a little private talk with me?"
"Kyaa~"
Heliane and Calsira squealed and chased each other with cups in hand, sharing drinks with several pilots along the way.
"Have one. Thanks for the help earlier."
"Thank you. I’ll enjoy it."
Unlike Jincheon, who had no interest in befriending men, Heliane—serious yet without sharp edges, and therefore easy to deal with—and Calsira—so good-natured and cute one could scarcely believe she was a notorious Zabalcan—had grown close to a few pilots through battles where lives hung in the balance.
"Hey, Jincheon, right?"
"Faces I’ve seen often enough, but I don’t know the names."
Two Imperial Guard pilots sat down at Jincheon’s table. In his younger days he might have snapped, “Where does a male dare sit?” but age had rounded his edges; he would not ruin the party’s mood by baring his fangs for no reason.
"You’re a mercenary turned imperial noble now, so we came to congratulate you early."
"But once you see the noble etiquette you’ll want to run. Even we sometimes wonder why we have to do this stuff."
The two men snickered while listing the torments that awaited him.
"A Giranlek-style congratulations. Much obliged."
"Puhuhuhu."
"We don’t actually hold any grudge, you know."
While chatting with them, Jincheon caught Beatrix glancing his way before deliberately looking elsewhere.
So she ordered them to dig up anything they could on me.
With almost no information on Jincheon’s group, she had apparently told her subordinates to pry even into their pasts. As proof, Heliane and Calsira were each cornered by Imperial Guards and trading cups.
"But Terra’s insanely far from here, right? Too far just to come do mercenary work, isn’t it?"
Even under ideal conditions, a smooth voyage from the Giranlek Empire to the Terra Federation took roughly half a year—short or long depending on how one looked at it. Most races never strayed far from their home systems except under special circumstances; the pilots were asking Jincheon what those “special circumstances” had been.
Just as I thought—they’re fishing for my past.
Fortunately the three of them had already coordinated their story. Rather than raise needless suspicion and complicate matters, Jincheon began reciting the “setting” they had prepared.
"I wanted to know how far my skills would carry me in the wider universe. And I’d always thought Earth… no, Terra, was too small."
"Whoa. That’s some serious ambition."
"What the hell did you do on Terra that made you think it was small?"
They had come on orders, yet Jincheon’s unexpected answer piqued their interest and they pressed further.
"Terra has countless nations."
"Heard about that. Dozens of countries on a single planet?"
"Dozens of countries on something that small—no matter how I try, I can’t picture it."
From a Terran’s perspective, a spacefaring civilization that still clung to feudal monarchy like the Giranlek Empire would have been equally unimaginable.
"I’m a citizen of a place called Korea among them."
To help them understand, Jincheon opened a map of Terra on his Bio Device and pointed to the Korean peninsula. For reference, this world’s history was largely identical to the Earth he had known—aside from the development of bipedal weapons. The one difference was that Korea here had been unified.
"Tiny."
"Small, but it was a surprisingly good place to live compared to some of the bigger countries."
Recalling the world he could never return to, Jincheon’s eyes held no longing. Thanks to transmigrating into Murim he had been free to bare his true nature, gained power and women, and lived a life without regret. For a man whose mindset was that wherever he wished to be became home, nostalgia for the original world simply did not exist.
Still, I’d like to visit once.
Roots, it seemed, could not be completely forgotten; if the chance ever came, he wanted to see Terra’s Korea.
In any case, Jincheon launched into the elaborate backstory they had concocted.
"But that country holds one special secret."
"A special secret?"
"It’s gone now, but in the age when cold weapons ruled the battlefield there existed martial artists who wielded a power called martial arts. In the vast land next to Korea—a place called China—they called such people ‘Murim folk.’"
"Oho?"
Hearing something that clashed with ordinary common sense, the knights showed open curiosity.
"What’s martial arts?"
"It means gathering the qi that exists in nature, refining it into Inner Qi, and using that Inner Qi to strengthen the body or accomplish things that ordinary common sense says are impossible."
"For example?"
"Striking at speeds the eye can’t follow, reinforcing a weapon so an ordinary sword can cut through thick armor. Those who reached the peak were said to split seas and cleave mountains with a single blade."
"What? Puhahaha! You’re not telling me you actually believe legends like that?"
I can do the things those legends talk about with a single finger.
One knight roared with laughter, yet the smile never left Jincheon’s lips.
"I thought the same at first. And as the ages advanced, weapons far stronger than martial arts appeared without anyone needing to learn it, so of course it faded away."
"Let me guess—you discovered that martial arts stuff?"
"Turns out my family had a martial arts manual passed down for generations. According to the records, there was a time we even stood at the absolute peak."
Jincheon chewed a snack and drained his cup.
"Khh. Back then I had the ambition to go to space, but no money and a poor household. It was the only path left, whether it worked or not, so I trained like my life depended on it."
Then he flung the liquor in his cup upward.
"Wha—?!"
His drinking companions startled, but Jincheon activated Heogongsbeomul and seized every drop that tried to scatter in every direction.
"Wh-what is that?"
"Did the gravity-control system glitch? No—then we’d be floating too."
Not a single drop was lost; the liquor gathered back into the cup. Jincheon raised it, offered a light toast, and drank.
"Turns out I was a genius born solely to learn this martial arts. No other special talents, but in martial arts I was the best."
When he revealed the setting they had created (mostly Jincheon alone), the knights who had been drinking with him wore blank, bewildered faces.
"Did you get some high-end cybernetic surgery?"
"The first thing we did when we came aboard was a full body search, remember?"
Though no one had explained it, Jincheon’s group had undergone a body search “just in case.” In particular, anyone with cybernetic implants was scrutinized with extreme thoroughness, because no one could predict what they might do.
"All three of us are one-hundred-percent pure human—not a single machine part. Check the records if you don’t believe me."
"That thing just now was crazy cool. Can I try splashing some?"
"Go ahead."
"Hup!"
When the knight swung his cup over Jincheon’s head, Jincheon caught every flying drop with Heogongsbeomul and returned it neatly to the man’s cup—just to confirm there was no hidden device in the vessel.
"Whoa. This is actually amazing!"
"What else can that martial arts stuff do?"
"Nothing much. Strengthens the body like a nano-suit or battle suit,"
Crunch!
Jincheon casually crumpled a metal cup with nothing but finger strength.
"Or wraps qi around whatever I’m holding to reinforce it."
Bang!
He drove an ordinary fork straight down into the table; a hole appeared in the wood while the fork itself remained unmarred.
"Wooooah!"
"They used stuff like that in ancient Terra?"
"Without any cybernetics?"
Knights who had been watching with interest ever since the liquor stunt now showed open fascination.
If I casually offer to teach them it’ll become a pain.
As attention focused on him, Jincheon listed the drawbacks of martial arts.
"But I can do this because it’s me. My parents, who trained in martial arts their whole lives, were beaten to death by thugs with cheap cybernetic implants. If this were an easy, simple way to get strong, Terrans would already monopolize combat mercenary work."
"True, I heard Terrans aren’t much different from us."
"If that were possible they’d have mass-produced superhuman soldiers with martial arts at the national level long ago."
"So talent matters more than effort."
"Honestly, doing that bare-handed is impressive, but with a battle suit or nano-suit, punching a hole in a table with a finger is nothing."
Fortunately, once he explained the limitations, they recognized that simply donning an enhancement suit was far faster and stronger. If anyone still asked to learn, he could simply make them memorize every meridian and acupoint required for training until they grew sick of it.
Having already started, Jincheon further stoked the party’s excitement by demonstrating techniques such as sword-flight control. In this world anyone could achieve similar effects with tools, yet doing it with no mechanical aid whatsoever was another matter entirely; the knights marveled at forks and spoons flying about on their own.
Had Murim folk witnessed the scene, they would have wept tears of blood at the sight of the supreme realm reduced to a party trick. The knights, however, had no way of knowing how difficult it truly was, and simply laughed and chattered in delight.