Rallying the Despairing Troops
“Hmm. Suppose you think of yourself as a Challenger Lord, and humanity's fate hangs in the balance before you. The enemies threatening us are races we can't possibly stand against. There are a few like that in the world above—demons, celestials, you name it. You have to fight them. Your soldiers and fellow lords are terrified. Because it's a battle they can't win! It's suicide, plain and simple. And yet you have to lead them into it. So, let's see you boost the troops' morale for that scenario.”
Chief Instructor Valrock let out a deep internal sigh as he heard those words.
Brock was half-joking, half-serious.
But hadn't he painted an overly grim picture again?
Arthur, however, felt a tightness in his chest upon hearing it.
It reminded him of the time before the final war, when he'd led every last remnant of humanity.
In truth, Arthur's assault as Great Lord had been a mere "challenge" in name only.
They'd been getting massacred, and in desperation to avoid total annihilation, he'd launched a preemptive all-out strike.
Then the quest alert chimed.
Satisfy Lord Brock
📍 Rank:A
🎁 Cash Reward:4,000
🏆 Rewards:Strength +3, Charm +5, Charisma +5
⚠️ Penalty on Failure (after acceptance):Strength -3, Charm -5, Charisma -5
“The notoriously picky one. Recreate the scenario Lord Brock described and satisfy him fully.”
The quest window vanished swiftly.
Arthur closed his eyes for a moment.
Then it began to filter in slowly.
The sound of their terrified breathing.
It grew clearer and clearer.
The expressions of fear on their faces.
Someone muttered.
“W-we're dead. It's over for us!”
Another voice chimed in.
“Should we run now, while we can?”
And someone wept.
“I-if only I could see Laine's face one more time...”
They trembled in fear.
There was no hope of victory.
The defensive lines had been breached, and the enemy was slaughtering humanity with overwhelming power, advancing relentlessly.
The Kortan defensive line, guarded by 40,000, had fallen—total annihilation.
The Kanel defensive line, guarded by 50,000, had fallen—total annihilation.
The corpses were mangled beyond recognition.
The enemy's losses, by contrast, were negligible.
That was the report Arthur had received.
Arthur slowly opened his eyes.
The terrified soldiers, the lords, all those desperate to live.
He looked around at them.
Arthur spoke slowly.
“Twelve hours ago, the Kortan defensive line was breached. And just four hours ago, the Kanel line fell, with the enemy charging straight for us.”
Everyone despaired at his words.
We're finished.
Humanity will be massacred.
They wailed.
“In a single night, 90,000 died. They were our comrades, our families. Philip, Laneto, Frein, Kazel, Rowdy, Lamato. Just days ago, they laughed and cried and fought beside us—and they died protecting us.”
Arthur scanned the soldiers and lords with a bitter expression.
“The enemy says we're nothing but ants. That daring to defy them is laughable. Yeah, maybe from their perspective.”
Arthur nodded slowly, wetting his dry lips with his tongue.
“But... but—humans aren't weak. Look at your comrades now. Everyone's scared. They want to run. But they're holding firm, aren't they? Even weeping in despair, they're standing their ground.”
Arthur gave a wry smile.
“Humans know what they must protect. Jen here just gave birth to a healthy son. Karon has his widowed mother waiting at home. We're all here to protect them. How brave is that?”
Strength began to build in Arthur's voice.
“How noble. And yet those damn demons and celestials mock us. They stand atop the corpses of our comrades from yesterday, jeering at us.”
With a resolute expression, Arthur addressed them.
“Our families await us right now. They came to fight and protect—and those bastards mock them. Fight! Even if it means death. Show them humanity is not weak!”
Arthur shouted each word with resounding power.
“Plunge your swords into the hearts of those who mock us! Fear not—your comrade at your side will pull you up, shield you. Don't retreat! If we fall back, our families die. If your sword breaks, remember your fallen brother and take up his blade! Even if a sword pierces your chest, sever their necks! We will win this war. They will kneel before us. All of us.”
Arthur swallowed his final breath and looked around.
“We will return alive.”
Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!
Arthur! Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!
He heard it.
Their voices.
Those who trusted and followed him.
Fear turning to valor, weakness to strength.
In the end, they all died.
But it was a fight without regrets.
Whoosh...
The lingering visions before his eyes faded away like mist.
What Arthur saw now was the instructor, frozen in shock, dropping his pen onto the desk with a clatter, and Brock smiling with a hint of surprise.
This... this kid. What the hell?
Brock could hardly believe it.
The absurd scenario he'd thrown out.
But Arthur had pulled it off flawlessly.
No—flawlessly didn't even cover it.
For a moment, Brock saw the true makings of a Challenger Lord in him.
That powerful voice, that absolute charisma.
I... I want him.
Brock's throat burned with desire.
He'd heard all his scores were top marks.
When he first arrived, he'd grumbled about the hassle.
But the moment he laid eyes on Arthur, his mind changed.
Coming here today was the right call.
He could claim this treasure called Arthur!
“Thank you.”
Arthur bowed politely and turned to leave.
Brock stood up.
“Chief Instructor.”
“Yes.”
“I'd like to have a word with that young man.”
Valrock had expected as much.
He himself had been stunned just moments ago.
How could such presence emerge from a mere boy?
“Understood.”
As Valrock replied, Brock gazed at the spot where Arthur had exited.
Arthur followed one of the instructors and stopped before the chief instructor's office.
“Go on in.”
“Yes.”
He opened the door to find Brock lounging on the sofa, sipping tea.
Arthur had half-expected this.
The Troll Federation under Brock.
And the Valkyrie Federation, the grand alliance under Challenger Lord Kyle, which included the Troll Sub-Federation and others.
The Valkyrie Grand Federation sponsored various training camps.
Others called it a waste of money, but it granted them the right to scout about two apprentice lords per graduation cycle.
“Sit.”
“Yes.”
“You've heard who I am?”
Brock got straight to it.
He brimmed with pride in himself.
And rightly so—one of the 101 Lords placed him among humanity's elite.
Wherever he went, he was treated like royalty, and his personal forces alone could crush a dozen territories in a blink.
“No, sir.”
“I'm Brock, the Tamer Lord among the 101. Above me is Challenger Lord Kyle. You know what a Challenger Lord is—practically untouchable. And I'm a Tamer Lord whose name alone commands respect...”
Mumble mumble mumble.
Arthur nodded along as Brock boasted about himself and his federation.
Still talks a mile a minute.
Of course, that was part of Brock's charm.
“Got it now?”
“You're a most gracious lord, I see.”
“Exactly!”
Snap!
Brock flicked his fingers.
He grinned, pleased.
He'd laid out his credentials sufficiently.
Already, Brock's mind raced with grand visions.
Leading twenty sub-federations, he needed a decisive strike force to maximize his power.
He planned to groom Arthur into that force.
Even if not, Arthur would thrive spectacularly under him.
“You know about the one-year Lord Protection Period after territory wars begin. Once it ends, lords without a federation mostly don't survive. They raid others for resources, and the real psychos swallow up fresh territories just for fun. That's why you need a powerful federation backing you.”
The one-year Lord Protection Period.
Existing Asgard lords couldn't attack those under protection.
But protected lords could fight each other.
“So, I'm extending a helping hand. Join our federation. I promise maximum support and fast-tracked growth. Depending on your effort, of course...”
“I'll pass.”
“Oho, as expected, you're going to refuse... Huh?”
Wait, something was off.
Brock tilted his head, tea cup midway to his smiling lips.
Had he misheard?
No one in their right mind would turn down federation help post-protection.
But Arthur's response?
“Wait, what did you say?”
He asked again.
Arthur replied politely but firmly.
“I said I'll decline.”
Arthur was resolute.
Reasons abounded.
First, federations restricted movement.
For instance, you couldn't harm allies of the Valkyrie Grand Federation.
Do so, and you'd be expelled, turning both that federation and Valkyrie against you.
Plus, diplomats would meddle endlessly.
Do this, do that.
Pointless for Arthur.
He outshone any diplomat, and they'd grow suspicious seeing it.
“You don't seem to get it—most apprentices join a federation before protection ends.”
Besides the five grand federations under Challenger Lords, countless minor ones took in the weak.
Lords joined those anyway.
For growth.
But for Arthur, they'd be shackles.
“To reiterate, I prefer going solo.”
He needed to be alone.
Joining later was fine.
If anything, others should serve him—working under someone didn't appeal.
“Hah...”
Brock's fantasies shattered.
Hands clasped behind his head, he stared in disbelief.
“If that's all, I'll be going.”
As Arthur finished neatly and left, Brock let out a hollow laugh.