Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: The Iron Wolf
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The night the Dalma even vanished into the darkness. Having slipped out of the annex palace, Damian headed for the forest within the imperial palace.
Relying on his lantern, he pushed through the underbrush where no one passed, and soon an abandoned tower came into view.
Squeezing through the diagonally collapsed door, the interior came into sight, covered in thick layers of dust.
‘It should be around here somewhere.’
Tap, tap. Tap, tap.
Damian tapped the floor with a wooden stick lying nearby. Then, one brick emitted a different sound from the others.
Pressing down hard on that brick with his foot, the ground rumbled, revealing stairs descending below.
Perhaps due to poor ventilation, the stairs were quite slippery from moisture. Damian descended carefully, one step at a time.
Just as his face wrinkled from the musty smell of dust and mold, the atmosphere inside changed abruptly.
This basement had existed before the empire or the imperial family. The tower existed solely to hide a certain forbidden tome stored here.
The Book of Hell.
The most crucial condition for contracting with a demon.
Upon reaching the lower level, a massive stone door awaited Damian.
The world’s most vicious thing was stored behind it, yet the door bore no reliefs related to demons.
“It’s intact.”
The situation differed from before his regression. Back then, the stone door had crumbled, leaving just enough space for a person to pass.
The trigger for Damian’s first discovery of this place had been the terrorist attack in the imperial palace. The very incident where Anna and Felix had died.
Fleeing from the attackers, Damian had hidden in the underground space beneath the collapsed tower and stumbled upon this place.
The stone door must have been damaged then as well. But he couldn’t wait for the terrorism to occur.
“Hmm.”
Damian approached the stone door closely. He hadn’t known it at the time, but this wasn’t a door made of ordinary stone.
Mana-Blocking Stone.
True to its name, it possessed the power to block mana. It had to be opened purely with raw physical strength, without the aid of aura or magic.
“Urgh!”
Even exerting all his strength to push, only the grinding of stone dust sounded, and the door didn’t budge.
Nor could he ask someone else to do it. Even ignoring the fact that black magic itself wouldn’t be recognized, revealing such a place could spark strange rumors.
Moreover, right after his regression, he didn’t want to rely on others for anything. The path of vengeance had to be walked on his own two legs.
‘Now that I look at it, this door itself is a kind of test.’
Black magic differed from ordinary magic.
Magic that purely manipulated mana didn’t require physical prowess.
But black magic came with extreme physical exhaustion. Borrowing power from hell’s demons incurred various constraints as payment.
In other words, without foundational stamina, it couldn’t be sustained long-term.
This ruin’s creator had pointed out what black magicians most easily overlooked. In a way, it was quite considerate.
Why bother building stamina when a contract via the Book of Hell granted immense power?
Stamina. This was one of Damian’s major hurdles.
Before entering black magic, he had lived a listless life drowned in alcohol, leaving his physical abilities far below average.
Of course, his burst firepower alone was more than sufficient against orthodox practitioners.
But now, Damian had to face Michael and Rubia.
The Empire’s Greatest Swordsman and the Archmage.
To stand above them, not a single flaw could be tolerated.
Fortunately, Damian had time. If he trained steadily from now, it could be resolved.
Moreover, he knew the most suitable person to help with this.
* * *
“What did you just say?”
Derek, the one-eyed stablehand, furrowed his brow at Damian’s words.
“Train me in stamina and strength, old man Derek.”
So why was he asking him of all people? Him, a mere stablehand managing worn-out old horses.
“Aren’t there more suitable people? Like the imperial knights… My apologies. I spoke out of turn.”
Derek was well aware of Damian’s disastrously poor talent.
Damian had already received direct instruction from the knight commander.
In less than a week, the knight commander had threatened to leave the order rather than teach him further.
“There’s nothing to learn from those guys.”
The knights’ training presupposed the use of aura.
A talent Damian lacked, and didn’t need anyway.
“Stamina and strength… Even so, why ask a mere stablehand? I can muck stalls or shoe horses, but not that.”
“Because you’re the expert in that field, old man Derek.”
Iron Wolf Mercenary Corps.
Derek halted in his tracks as he was about to leave the stable.
“Ha… Felix, that blabbermouth, told you? Damn him. Now I suppose he expects me to buy him a drink.”
Derek grumbled as he plopped down on a wooden crate.
Wrinkled skin, skinny limbs—an appearance that made it hard to believe he’d once been a legendary mercenary.
But his one remaining eye was still sharp.
Iron Wolf.
The moniker he’d used during his mercenary days.
A man who had reached legendary status by honing raw strength and technique, despite his weak aura.
Felix had often shared stories about the Iron Wolf before.
To comfort Damian, saying one could achieve greatness without aura.
‘It wasn’t much consolation back then.’
Moreover, he’d only heard after Derek had fallen to stablehand that the Iron Wolf now worked in the imperial palace stables.
But right now, he was exactly the person Damian needed. No imperial knight surpassed him in teaching stamina and strength.
“Yes. I ate a bit of sword-for-hire back in my day. Planning to blackmail me with that?”
Derek had accumulated many grudges during his mercenary days. If his identity were exposed, getting stabbed in the back while walking the streets wouldn’t be surprising.
“No. Instead, I’m proposing a deal.”
Damian held out a thick bundle of gold coins. The jingling alone indicated it matched several years of Derek’s salary.
“Your contract ends soon, and you’ll have to leave the palace. This should suffice for retirement funds, right?”
“Whew. Specifically, what level are you aiming for?”
At Derek’s question, Damian pointed to a large boulder near the stable.
“Enough to push that rock without strain, alone.”
Derek alternated glances between Damian and the boulder, stroking his chin in thought.
“But I have a condition.”
“Anything I can do.”
“Run first.”
Derek pointed to the open ground in front of the stable with his finger.
“That’s it?”
“But keep going until I tell you to stop. You have to manage at least this much before I’ll teach you anything. If something happens to you, a stablehand like me would lose his head.”
Damian agreed and immediately started running.
It was just running. His body, not yet ruined by alcohol, should handle this fine.
So he thought.
‘Damn… hell….’
Only after about an hour did he realize he was wrong.
“Huff, huff, huff. N-not yet, old man Derek?”
“Focus on running. Your pace is slowing.”
His body was pathetically out of shape beyond imagination. Gasping after just this much.
Physically, his pre-regression state had been worse, yet enduring black magic’s backlash then had been a miracle of sorts.
Casting a glance at Derek while running, he just watched Damian with a consistent expression.
‘Did he have no intention of accepting from the start?’
Such doubts arose, but it was too late to back out now.
Damian cleared his mind of distractions and focused solely on moving his arms and legs.
“Haaah…”
Derek let out a deep sigh watching him.
Why keep struggling? It’d be easier to give up.
The world was cruel. Those without talent couldn’t surpass a certain line, no matter the effort.
Raw strength and technique? Ultimately worthless before aura.
Derek, who had once reached the pinnacle through physical prowess, knew this bone-deep.
“Why refuse?”
The assistant, aware of Derek’s identity, asked.
“Couldn’t you just go easy and take the money?”
“Whenever you take a contract, be sincere. That’s my principle.”
With that, Derek returned to his quarters, instructing the assistant to notify the annex if Damian collapsed.
“Whew.”
Settling into his rocking chair, Derek uncorked a cheap bottle of liquor.
Old memories surfaced, impossible to bear without a drink.
Once, Derek had believed too. That steady effort toward a clear goal would yield results.
After his own faith shattered, he’d pinned hopes on the young sprouts rising after him.
But they too failed to cross the wall. Some even vented resentment at him.
Why give them hope? It would’ve been easier if he’d told them from the start it was impossible.
Lost in thought, Derek slept until sunset.
“What the hell is that guy doing….”
The assistant was nowhere in sight. Damian must have collapsed long ago, and he was surely slacking off somewhere.
Heading to the stable, he spotted the assistant’s head—and raised his hand to smack it.
“What the….”
Damian was still running. At least six more hours had passed.
Even as imperial blood, no boy that age could endure such intensity.
That was why the assistant hadn’t moved.
“Young master! Please stop!”
Even at Anna’s cry, Damian just waved a hand. With his owner intervening, the maid could only stamp her feet helplessly.
“Haa, haa, haa.”
Rough, irregular breaths, sweat pouring like rain, staggering steps.
He could collapse any moment, yet Damian pressed forward.
Derek sensed a strange power in Damian’s eyes.
A deeper, more intense desire than any will he’d seen before.
He knew Damian had been persecuted for his status as an Illegitimate Child and his pitiful talent.
But could that alone ignite such fierce desire?
Derek couldn’t know. That’s why he wanted to see more.
“Stop. That’s enough.”
At Derek’s shout, Damian collapsed to the ground. Anna and Felix rushed to him immediately.
“Water… give me some water.”
At Damian’s dying voice, Anna soaked a handkerchief with prepared water and dabbed his lips.
“D-Derek, old man. A mercenary… keeps contracts properly.”
His throat burned, his heart felt like bursting. Still, he felt good.
Damian’s life had been a series of escapes.
Whenever things got a bit tough or hard, he always turned his back on problems.
Even after learning black magic, this hadn’t changed. If Damian hadn’t run, many fates would have altered.
Thus, before gaining power, he had to fundamentally remake his mindset.
So he couldn’t collapse. No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t lose to himself from the start.
Compared to his goals, it might seem modest, but for the first time post-regression, he’d created a different outcome.
Thinking of that, he could maintain a smile despite his trembling limbs.
“Rest tomorrow. Training starts the day after.”
“I’ll… look forward to it.”
Only after hearing Derek’s words could Damian finally collapse.
Damian’s vengeance began today.