The Weight of Tomorrow
The red sunset dyed the windows of the mansion.
The wind had stilled in the mountains.
The study of Rionhart was quiet, yet the faces of those seated within it had sunk into heavy gravity.
“…….”
Arteon stared silently at Rionhart’s face, while Kairon frowned, turning his words over in his mind.
“So… does that mean civil war will break out in three years?”
The voice carried discomfort.
The first prince and the second prince.
Were they really saying that the two factions would go to war?
But at Kairon’s question, Rionhart shook his head.
Rionhart’s gaze shifted to Arteon.
“You don’t suppose you’re thinking the same foolish thoughts as this idiot, do you?”
“Of course not.”
“What?!”
Kairon snapped, but Arteon ignored him and addressed Rionhart directly.
“However, if that’s the case… the prince Sedrian, who has already broadened his power to Belikezel, would find himself at a disadvantage, wouldn’t he? He achieved such great deeds, only for everything to return to square one.”
Kairon looked at Arteon with a sudden, betrayed expression.
At those words, Rionhart hummed softly.
“Hmm…”
“From the emperor’s standpoint, he may have wanted to give Belacrod the second prince another chance, even if it meant that. And he also wanted to check his excessive tyranny.”
“…I cannot understand. What reason could there be to give such a person another chance?”
Arteon’s voice sharpened.
Yet Rionhart leaned deep into his chair and exhaled a long breath.
“Because he is your son.”
Understanding the feelings of a parent would never be easy.
However, what mattered now was simple.
“Three years of preparation and two years of verification. That means the emperor’s remaining lifespan is only five years.”
The warmth in the room vanished instantly.
Kairon asked with a puzzled look.
“…But how can a person’s lifespan be set so precisely? The emperor is gravely ill. He could die as early as next year.”
Rionhart nodded.
“Good question. Do you know what the Life Vessel is?”
“The vessel where the rich gamble their souls?”
“Similar, but not the same. What I mentioned is a magical artifact.”
For a moment, the air grew rigid.
Arteon narrowed his eyes. Kairon swallowed hard.
The Life Vessel.
It was an astronomical treasure boasting a value that could sustain a small kingdom or two.
“By using the Life Vessel, the emperor extended his lifespan forcibly.”
Yet the Life Vessel was not omnipotent.
The price was horrific.
“From the moment it was equipped, one had to sacrifice countless things that only humans can enjoy. Movement slows, nerves dull, senses vanish. One exists only with the mind held in place.”
Kairon’s eyes widened as he murmured.
“Then right now the emperor…”
“Is barely clinging to life.”
Silence fell across the study.
Yet it did not last long.
“Anyway, the matter has already been decided. It cannot be undone, nor can it be stopped.”
Rionhart’s voice was resolute.
“During the next three years, both princes will strive to strengthen themselves as much as possible through self-testing of their own power.”
“So… what will determine the ‘verification’ of the two princes?”
Arteon asked quietly.
Rionhart had said nothing of it.
After three years of preparation, they had two years to prove themselves.
Without hesitation, Rionhart replied.
“The first prince, Sedrian, will expand northward. The second prince Belacrod will break through the southern kingdoms entirely and broaden his power.”
And the crucial fact.
“Throughout this process, the imperial central army will not intervene at all. Only the forces possessed by the two princes may be used.”
Kairon swallowed hard and whispered.
“Wow… so they’ll prepare with everything they’ve got for three years?”
“That is correct.”
Rionhart’s answer was short, yet carried profound meaning.
But while the situation appeared complex, stripped bare it was simplicity itself.
In three years, the first prince would have expanded northward to what point.
The second prince would have expanded southward to what point.
The next emperor would be decided by those two outcomes.
Rionhart’s gaze slowly turned to Arteon.
Eyes sharp as a blade.
“Arteon.”
“Yes.”
“The time has come for you to choose. Will you… participate in this war?”
If he participated, the faction would naturally belong to the first prince.
And the battlefield—
“The most horrific northern front of the empire.”
Rionhart’s question was mercilessly harsh.
For an ordinary imperial soldier.
Yet to Arteon, there was no hesitation.
“My place is only one. The battlefield of that horrific northern front.”
In the past life and even now,
his spear had always pointed northward.
If that meant the path to toppling the second prince, the target of his revenge,
he had no need to hesitate any further.
A resolve settled in Arteon’s eyes.
Rionhart rose from his seat.
“Go rest now. From tomorrow, harsher training will begin.”
The next three years…
“I will make you the strongest in the empire.”
At those words, Arteon nodded.
* * *
The room was filled with the stench of rot and mold.
Moisture had frozen overnight on the cold, damp stone floor.
Deep in the imperial dungeon.
Among them, the second prince Belacrod sat with disheveled hair, sunken in his seat.
His royal bloodline was no match for the filth covering him.
His robes were stained with dust and mud, and insects crawled across the walls around him.
Yet…
“….”
His eyes, sunken in darkness, were colder and sharper than any blade.
Three months.
It had been three months since he was imprisoned in this cold and filthy dungeon for the emperor’s judgment.
During that time, Belacrod had only bowed his head in silence.
He had melted his rage, honed himself, and thought—thought—about what he must do once freed.
And then.
Clang!
The thick iron door opened, flooding the prison with light.
Alongside the light entered a man.
“Your Highness!”
Edrian Valenruuk, Count of the prince’s personal guard.
Behind him stood over a dozen nobles and knights in full armor, swords at their waists, standing quietly.
Though they did not belong in this ruined place, every one of them bowed their heads toward Belacrod.
“You have suffered greatly, Your Highness. Please come out at once.”
At those words, Belacrod staggered to his feet. Edrian and the others rushed to support him.
“Sedrian?”
The moment they left the prison, Belacrod asked.
Edrian answered urgently.
“I will report everything. First… we must get your body back in order…”
At that moment, Belacrod shook off their hands.
Though weakened from long imprisonment, his eyes had grown deeper than ever.
Belacrod swept his bangs aside and addressed his subordinates.
“There is much to do from now on.”
He already knew the emperor’s decision.
For the past three months, all he had thought about was that single thing.
Belacrod’s voice sounded like the growl of a beast that had just sharpened its fangs.
“Everyone, sharpen your wits.”
He had returned the balance that had nearly shattered to its original state.
To Belacrod, that was a situation more precious than gold.
Then, as if declaring, Belacrod spoke.
“Five years from now…”
His eyes flashed like a beast’s.
“This empire will be mine.”
The moment those words echoed through the dark corridor of the prison,
thud! thud! thud!
All the vassals kneeling in front dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.
“We obey Your Highness’s command!”
“We obey Your Highness’s command!”
As their fervent cries rang out, Belacrod simply turned and slipped into the darkness without a word.
* * *
After dawn, Arteon and Rionhart stood once more on the training ground.
As usual, they continued their training with heart-breathing method and the Mana Flow Vest, drawing mana.
However…
“……You have reached a perfect level. At this point, there is no more meaning in trying further.”
Their breathing was already free to control.
Most importantly, they could withstand using 6-star mana even while wearing the Mana Flow Vest.
Arteon’s body had changed beyond recognition compared to six months ago.
At Rionhart’s words, Arteon replied.
“Thank you, Instructor.”
He had mastered only two trainings, yet the changes in Arteon were enormous.
He could use 6-star mana without burden.
He could release his full power aura without collapsing.
Of course, he still could not perfectly control his strength, but the change in only six months could not be described in a few words.
Yet…
“There is still much to do ahead. Do not grow complacent.”
“Yes.”
As Arteon nodded, Rionhart opened a box he had brought.
Inside lay a thin glass bottle.
Within it swirled a strangely mixed liquid of silver and black.
It looked repulsive.
“An elixir that opens the joints and loosens the muscles. Drink it.”
“Yes.”
Arteon took the liquid without hesitation and drank it.
The instant it touched his tongue,
swish.
A cold sensation climbed his spine.
Soon a hot warmth followed.
A mountain-like dizziness pressed down on his entire body.
“Ugh…!”
Arteon’s knees buckled.
His body grew fuzzy, and his muscles swelled unnaturally.
His vision split into double and triple layers, the light flickering.
Rionhart said.
“It is a perfectly natural reaction. Keep concentrating so you do not lose your mind.”
Then he slowly laid Arteon on the floor and fitted strange devices to his arms and legs.
The long metal instruments clamped firmly around his elbows and knees as if applying casts.
Arteon stretched his rigid arms and legs and looked at Rionhart.
Rionhart exhaled softly and told him.
“It will be painful. Endure it.”
“…Yes.”
Arteon clenched his teeth.
He knew that if Rionhart said it would hurt, real pain would come.
Rionhart twisted the handle on the device attached to his right arm.
Crack!
“……!”
The joint device bent, forcing Arteon’s arm joint to twist in the opposite direction.
“Aah…!”
It felt as if he were forcibly breaking his arm.
Arteon instinctively tried to draw mana, but…
“……?”
His mana would not move.
Rionhart explained as if it were nothing.
“You will not be able to use mana. The medicine suppresses it.”
A natural explanation followed.
Rionhart then twisted Arteon’s arms and legs on both sides in the same manner.
In the pain that felt as though his arms and legs were about to break, Arteon clenched his teeth.
“Starting now, you will stretch your joints in different directions for four hours a day, gradually increasing your range of motion.”
“Ugh… y-yes…”
Arteon answered with difficulty, and Rionhart said.
“Your spear technique is most important because it allows attacks and defenses of unpredictable changes in multiple angles. If your joint range expands, you will be able to use tactics from even more diverse angles.”
No further explanation was needed.
Arteon had only to do exactly as ordered.
Arteon gritted his teeth and endured the pain with his eyes squeezed shut.
And after how much time had passed.
“In the opposite direction. Let me know if you need a gag.”
“I-it’s… fine…”
Arteon breathed deeply and bit down hard.
And then.
Crunch!
“Ugh…!”
The next stage of training, even more tormenting than torture, continued without end.
Time flowed rapidly.
---
“I swear to break the second prince’s throne and carve a path to the northern front.”