Grand Master
Hand-improved by the Goddess of Abundance, Demeter. Yields bountiful harvests even in harsh conditions. Growth speed is twice that of regular wheat.
Karma
Any seed fully matures and is harvestable within a week. Applies to all land within a 10km radius.
Karma
Soon, it would be time to prepare for a tech upgrade. Once the war ended, he'd return to his territory, manage the expanded lands, recruit troops, and gear up for rebellion. For that, the territory needed to develop—and considering this year's poor harvest forecast, nothing beat these items for cost-performance.
He bought three sacks of seeds and three bottles of growth agent. That left exactly 40,000 Karma in his pocket. It should tide him over until the next shop visit.
Raen bid him farewell one last time.
"Can't wait to see how much stronger you'll be next time! I'll be waiting!"
"See ya."
Whoosh!
The moment he opened his eyes, he was back in reality. All the items could be summoned at will the instant he focused on them. Talk about a next-level bag that transcended subspatial storage. The downside was it only worked on divine goods, but once he stockpiled more, it'd prove incredibly useful.
Now that he'd bought them, it was time to use them. To activate the intermediate martial arts manual, he needed intermediate mana. In other words, reaching the so-called Grand Master realm was the baseline requirement. He had to test just how devastating its power was to demand such a prerequisite. Perfect timing with the war right around the corner.
He consciously summoned the potion, and a bottle shimmering with mystical light appeared. He downed it in one gulp.
Crunch-crunch-crunch!
"Hngh!"
Boom!
His body shot upward, smashing through the carriage roof into the sky. Massive mana currents swirled from all directions.
Rumble-rumble!
Mana poured into him relentlessly. At the same time, his body underwent yet another transformation.
The Resid Marquis faction had been pushed to the sidelines, relegated to rear-guard duties. Getting shoved to the back meant no chance for glory—just sucking their thumbs in wait. Fail to score merits in this war against the Titan race, and the North might crumble. Imperial support could dry up, or they could get crushed in factional infighting. Their political standing teetered on the brink.
Resid Marquis discussed it with Raoul Count.
"Raoul, at this rate, our Northern Alliance is done for. Any ideas?"
"I've thought it over plenty, my lord. Seems we'll have to step up at the decisive moment to claim the credit."
"Decisive moment? What if Aron picks a fight?"
"The clash with the Titan race won't be easy. Even with divine blessings, we can't ignore their physical superiority. Unless Viscount Aron is a Grand Master, he can't turn the tide alone. We'll have our opening. The viscount's arrogant and complacent—you know what the Titan race is like."
"So, exploit his carelessness."
"Precisely."
"Hearing that eases my mind a bit."
Rumble!
A massive roar echoed outside the carriage.
"Ambush?!"
Resid Marquis and Raoul Count rushed out. It wasn't a spell strike—vast mana was being sucked toward somewhere. A mana vortex funneled endlessly into one person. Even Phoenix shied from the overwhelming power, soaring into the air.
Hooo!
A warm wind blew in. Mana friction with air generated heat, or so the theory went. Experiencing a mana storm firsthand was rare. But here it raged.
Tracing the mana flow led to a man floating midair, absorbing it voraciously.
Crack! Crunch-crunch!
Viscount Aron's bones twisted grotesquely as he absorbed the mana. They shattered and reformed across his body; his hair fell out and regrew; his skin sloughed off like a snake's molt.
"Gasp! W-what is that?!"
"What the hell...?"
"The mark of a Grand Master..."
"Grand Master?! That's a realm from legends!"
"So I thought, my lord. The first emperor of the ancient magitech empire reached it, as recorded by chroniclers of the era..."
"And?"
"His body rose about 10 meters, absorbing mana as his bones twisted and he shed his skin."
"So Viscount Aron is becoming a Grand Master right now!"
"Yes."
"...We're screwed."
The advent of a Grand Master heralded chaos across the continent.
Groooan!
The mana absorption ended; bones realigned; skin renewed. Ah, a torment he'd never endure again. Vitality surged through him. He felt like he could pierce the heavens flying as is.
His retainers and knights rushed over. The knights knelt on one knee in reverence.
"Congratulations on ascending to greatness, my lord!"
"Congratulations!"
Swept by the mood, soldiers knelt too. The wave spread through the entire army.
Swish.
Cecilia reacted as if it were obvious.
"The gods' favorite—what'd you expect? This is baseline!"
Dragon Kainus looked somewhat rattled. Records existed of Grand Masters battling dragons. Could Aron hold his own against him now? But Kainus quickly composed himself.
"Haha! Congratulations, my lord. A Grand Master at last."
"Grand Master!"
"So that's a Grand Master."
"Likely so, my lord. I recall it from the histories."
It was potion-induced, but no need to advertise that. In the distance, Resid Marquis and his nobles approached. Raoul Count looked especially flushed.
"Your Excellency! Have you truly reached the Grand Master realm?!"
Raoul, who'd bantered casually before, now used honorifics. They knew a confirmed Grand Master meant a dukedom soon. No instant promotion without cause, but the path was clear—hence the deference.
"Who knows? Feels like I might've become one? Wanna be my test subjects?"
"N-no, sire! The chance is coming soon! Test tomorrow, and you'll see great results, I'm sure."
"What a pigeon chest."
"Yes! Better to be a bird than fight a Grand Master!"
"Alright, resume march! I'm heading in to rest."
"Yes, sire!"
His body felt ready to soar, yet lazier than ever—what was this sensation?
Next morning. He'd downed the intermediate mana potion yesterday and become what folks called a Grand Master. Unrivaled among humans, but still far from the end. He'd need the advanced potion to tackle legends and myths head-on. His munchkin life's metric was raw power—smash everything with overwhelming might.
Learning the intermediate martial arts manual was easy. Mimicking the motions engraved it in his mind. And the revelation: he could handle tens of thousands solo. Enough to flip a national total war. Not enough to wipe an empire, though—time to build up troops diligently.
Lost in thought, he suddenly faced the enemy. The Titan race horde appeared; at charging distance for minutes, both armies halted.
Aron had dismounted his carriage onto horseback. Time to unleash power.
Thud-thud!
A white-flagged herald galloped from afar. Aron eyed his commanders.
"Everyone got the plan?"
"Yes!"
"Of course."
"Kainus."
"Your orders, my lord?"
"Lead the army well."
"Where will you go?"
"Me? Wipe out their king or whoever."
"...!"
His retainers, knowing his style, were shocked but silent. Same for Resid Marquis's group. They figured the human pinnacle could do anything he set his mind to. Resid had seemed scheming before, but now he'd given up. After yesterday, he didn't look that foolish.
The massive herald arrived. Roughly 2 meters tall? Far superior build to imperials. A giant halberd on his back, horned helmet symbolizing their kind.
The herald bowed roughly and bellowed.
"His Majesty Urka, King of Kings and Great Warrior of Odin, requests the enemy commander! If you're true warriors, don't refuse!"
He wheeled his horse and left.
Rommel fumed.
"My lord! Permission to skewer his skull?!"
"Nah, kill the herald, and Urka escapes."
"Ooh, then...?"
"I have plans."
"Knight order at the ready!"
"Knights? No need. Charge the moment their brass drops."
"Yes!"
The gods perked up too. Quiet lately, but battle's scent drew them out.