Scattered Time on the Battlefield

Three days had passed since the contract was signed. The moment I opened the iron door to the underground workshop, a wave of scorching heat washed over me, carrying the faint, acrid bite of reagents.

“The requested quantity has been completed!”

Theo’s eyes were bloodshot. Beside him stood Celine, breathing hard in a soot-stained leather apron. One week’s supply of low-grade awakening potions and Mana Stabilizers—one hundred of each—were neatly packed inside wooden crates. All finished in just three days.

I had always ordered them to maintain peak condition. Yet in an environment free of beatings, starvation, or vicious verbal abuse, the two had chosen to pull all-nighters of their own free will, driven solely by pure obsession with alchemy.

My business philosophy was simple: provide clear, tangible rewards to slaves who meet their targets. That was the most perfect form of motivation.

Instead of offering empty praise for their dedication, I chose to pay them in the most direct way possible.

“You finished in three days.”

Their triumphant gazes locked onto my lips.

“You have the remaining four days. Use the workshop to create and research whatever you want.”

Complete autonomy as a bonus for exceeding the goal. For slaves who had only ever known whips and exploitation, this first taste of legitimate rest and absolute freedom struck like an emotional reward. Celine’s eyes instantly welled with tears.

Theo’s eyes widened with excitement. “Master! Then may I finally experiment with that formula I’ve been conceptualizing? The one I couldn’t attempt before because of material costs?”

“I don’t care.”

At my cool permission, Theo clenched his fist and spun toward Celine. “Assistant Celine! Did you hear that? We can finally try that insane cross-reaction between northern ice spider venom glands and flame herbs!”

“Pardon…? Those two are polar opposites—they’ll explode midway… Ah, are you planning to use slime mucus as a catalyst to slow the exothermic reaction?”

Theo slapped his knee at her sharp counterpoint. “Exactly! As expected of my assistant! Well? Want to do it together?”

“It’s a formula I’ve never heard of, but… yes. I’d like to see it with my own eyes.”

Just moments ago they had been on the verge of collapse from overwork, yet one mad idea had them brimming with energy again, perfectly in sync. I left the workshop quietly, their passionate research fervor at my back.

I instructed the waiting Silvia to summon ten combat slaves and Elina. The carriage cargo hold was packed tight with the finished potion crates. As we left the capital, we stopped at a major trading company and swept every red recovery potion in sight with overwhelming cash, stuffing the carriage until it creaked.

When production time was insufficient, brute financial power covered the gap. Our destination: Arzen’s mana stone mine.

The various potions rattled and clinked with every bump in the road. Even Elina’s ample chest, which her breastplate couldn’t fully contain, bounced in rhythm with the carriage’s jolts.

The outer defensive line of Arzen’s mana stone mine. The sun burned blood-red.

Shattered fragments of iron swords. Silver breastplates caked in blood and mud, their original color long lost. The knights’ defensive line, which had gone days without rest, had already far surpassed human limits.

Hands swollen black from mana erosion. Every breath tore through their lungs with a metallic rasp. They stood on the absolute brink of total physical collapse—any moment their vision could flip upside down.

“Goddamn it… the medicine, where the hell is the medicine!”

A young knight barely deflected an orc’s club with his shield and screamed, vomiting blood.

“I never should’ve trusted the promise of some back-alley slave trader! It was all a scam to cut off our family’s lifeline!”

Raw curses and despair. An endless swarm of orcs drawn to the thick mana of the mana stones, pouring in from the territory’s outskirts.

At that moment, the bloodied knight commander raised his voice to rally them.

“Hold just a little longer! The one we contracted with is that infamous Victor!”

A desperate encouragement, broken sword raised high. “But he’s the one rumored to have never broken a single request! If he said he’d come, he’ll damn well come!”

A massive orc shock trooper wielding a gigantic battle axe leaped toward the crown of an exhausted, slumped knight.

The knight, sensing death, squeezed his eyes shut.

Crunch—!!

The heavy impact he expected to crush his skull never came. Instead, a hot, metallic liquid splashed across his face.

“……Huh?”

The gleaming arc of a black iron greatsword. From crown to groin. The massive orc’s body split cleanly in two, spilling its guts.

Beyond the bisected corpse stood a man clad head to toe in black armor. The heavy landing of Victor Trading Company’s combat slaves. Hooves thundered across the battlefield as two enormous carriages charged violently onto the war-torn field.

The remaining nine combat slaves leaped from the cargo holds. Behind them rose a mountain of crates—perfectly stabilized low-grade Mana Stabilizers and awakening potions, along with recovery potions procured from the major trading company.

“Aaaah……”

Beast-like groans escaped the slumped knights. Overwhelming salvation had arrived at death’s doorstep.

“Lady Vivian…… Arzen can keep breathing!”

The knight commander, seeing the supplies packed in the carriages, raised his bloodied sword and cheered. At his cry, burning hope surged from the very bottom of the knights’ ash-gray hearts.

My devotion and my comrades’ deaths were not in vain. The family we risked our lives to protect will greet the sun again tomorrow.

Tears of overwhelming joy traced paths down the knights’ bloodstained cheeks.

“Everyone, consume the supplies! Rebuild the defensive line!”

Wooden crates splintered. Cork stoppers were ripped free. The knights who hastily gulped down the potions felt their eyes dilate.

With a heavy clunk, the carriage door opened once more. A female swordsman appeared, wearing light leather gear reinforced with a breastplate.

Elina, who had reawakened the ancient elves’ breathing technique and was slowly reopening the path through her damaged Mana Heart.

A few days earlier in the Arzen mansion’s reception room, the knights on duty had clearly remembered her upright, quiet noble dignity—something she had never lost despite her slave status.

But the Elina before them now was a completely different being. She had transcended elegance to become an avatar of battle, carving lethal trajectories through the blood-soaked center of the battlefield.

Thud!

A concise, overwhelming sword strike that pierced straight through a giant monster’s brow. By utilizing her body with the new breathing method, her movements had been honed even sharper than in the days when she commanded the empire.

The dynamic beauty stood in perfect contrast to her prim appearance in the reception room. The overwhelming power and grace she displayed kindled a strange heat in the hearts of the knights who had been prepared to die.

This was the moment the core members of the passionate Elina fan club—secretly formed within the Arzen knight order in the future—were born.

The effects of the awakening potions and Mana Stabilizers the knights consumed were immediate. There were none of the heart-squeezing side effects or hallucinations. The rampaging mana in their blood calmed instantly, and their torn muscle fibers swelled with clear vitality, bringing perfect physiological ecstasy.

But the astonishment didn’t end there.

Slice!Crunch!

While the knights took a brief moment to recover, the ten combat slaves who had stepped forward turned the front line into a slaughterhouse. Perfect killing machines from which fear and pain had been erased. They formed ranks like flawless gears, mechanically severing the beasts’ necks and joints.

The knights, who had earlier sneered that only ten reinforcements were laughable, now stood with jaws agape.

‘One combat slave from Victor Trading Company is worth a hundred ordinary mercenaries.’

The grim rumor that had circulated in the back alleys was no exaggeration. The knights felt chills race down their spines as they witnessed it with their own eyes.

What if the man leading that overwhelming force decided to turn against the Arzen family? If those monsters had stormed the Arzen mansion, the family would have burned to nothing that very night.

I stood atop the carriage roof, silently watching the blood-drenched scene below.

Then my eyes fell on the countless orc corpses littering the ground. Thick hides, useless bones, crude blood. The bodies of the lowest-grade monsters had formed a small hill.

The corner of my mouth twisted slightly.

Vivian had proposed to cover the troop rental fee by providing all monster byproducts to me. ‘Even if I sold several hundred of these trash orc corpses, I wouldn’t recover the cost of the troops I bought today.’

That young, shy duchess had hidden the fact that the byproducts were essentially worthless and passed her bad inventory onto me. It was like having my eyes opened while my nose was cut off, yet a strange chuckle escaped me.

Her bold cleverness—hiding behind an innocent face while shaving away the margin ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in my ledger.

It was then that the knight commander approached the carriage, breathing hard.

“We are in your debt.”

The hostility he had shown when we first met at my mansion was completely gone from his bloodied voice. He looked at me like a savior who had turned infinite, inescapable despair into hope.

“If I hadn’t arrived today, it would have been a dog’s death.”

At my question, the knight commander roughly wiped orc blood from his cheek and answered.

“A sword that protects its family has no tomorrow. If there is a lord and land to defend right before our eyes, we simply swing our blades until our bones shatter.”

A loyal knight’s straightforward reply. But he soon let out a small, bitter laugh.

“Still… if you hadn’t come this early, we would have seen something truly horrific. Once again, on behalf of the family, I thank you.”

I tapped the crate of recovery potions the knights were drinking and replied dryly.

“Those recovery potions weren’t listed in the contract. It means I’ll be charging extra.”

At my calm additional billing, the knight commander cleared his throat and sheathed his greatsword.

“Hmph. I only know the smell of blood on the battlefield, not the scent of gold. Since I lack payment authority, please send the invoice directly to Her Grace the Duchess.”

A clean deflection of the debt onto the family head. I snorted lightly and turned my gaze back to the crawling monster corpses.

“You didn’t request from the mercenary guild? There should have been plenty of men who would come running for money.”

“We posted requests and offers for several months. At first, they all charged in eagerly.”

The knight commander took off his helmet and tucked it under his arm, speaking bitterly.

“But they grew sick of the endless waves of orcs pouring in every single day. The pocket change earned from orc corpses couldn’t even cover weapon repair costs.”

“……”

“To mercenaries who want to protect themselves and make a living, this kind of endless war of attrition was nothing but madness—throwing away their lives for pennies.”

A thorough depletion of manpower according to pure market logic. I nodded lightly and stroked my chin.

“These orc waves that pour in every night. For beasts, their assaults are remarkably regular.”

“They charge madly toward the mine entrance around sunset.”

The same time every day. An abnormal monster wave with a consistent pattern.

At that moment, a setting my little sister from my previous life had hammered into my ears came ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to mind.

I narrowed my eyes.

I expanded my view from atop the carriage roof. The battlefield reeked of blood. My gaze stretched past the carriage, toward the deep, black maw of the mine.

This was no simple monster rampage. The orc ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠corpses rolling on the ground. Even as their heads were smashed against shields and limbs severed, their eyes held none of the fear or survival instincts typical of orcs. Nor did it look like the territory had become overpopulated, pushing only the old and sick forward to die.

These were young, aggressive males with muscles taut and full. A variable that completely contradicted the setting my sister had rambled about.

The raw material supply source that would soon be responsible for my company’s profits. I was certain that deep within those tunnels lurked a colossal, alien anomaly powerful enough to drive the beasts mad.

I needed to check inside the mine.

The metallic screams of clashing iron finally fell silent. The ten combat slaves, having finished their slaughter, lowered their greatswords dripping with blood and stood like silent statues, awaiting my next command.

I called over the knight commander, who had been ordering the knights to clear the corpses to one side.

“Where is Her Grace the Duchess?”

At my question, the knight commander removed his bloodied helmet and approached the carriage.

“The family head stepped out briefly, saying she had something to confirm.”

“Where.”

The knight commander glanced around once, then lowered his voice to a whisper.

“I don’t know that either. But she should return soon, so why don’t you take the contracted potion crates and return with us?”

I swallowed a dry laugh inwardly. With the family’s lifeline on the verge of being severed, the highest authority had gone out alone without any escort. The genius brain of Vivian from the original story. She had surely gone to track the tail of this abnormal monster wave herself.

But gathering information in this harsh territory without even the minimum safety measures was far too high-risk.

“To think you don’t even know the whereabouts of your own family head. The proud shield of Arzen has rusted quite badly.”

At the bone-deep mockery, the knight commander’s brow twitched violently. But having just had his life saved by my capital and military power, the old knight bit his lip hard and swallowed his rage.

I lightly jumped down from the carriage. After gesturing for the blood-soaked combat slaves, I delivered my notice.

“I have already ordered those men to follow your command starting today. The rental period is exactly one month.”

“We were desperate for even a single sword to wield. Such a force on this soul-crushing defensive line—it feels like I can finally breathe. I am truly in your debt.”

Deep relief colored the knight commander’s wrinkled face. But I drew a firm line.

“Don’t misunderstand. I can tolerate some scratches on my products, but each of those men is a precious asset in which I have invested enormous capital.”

A dry warning that pinned the knight commander’s gaze in place.

“You must have seen with your own eyes yesterday in my mansion’s training grounds what kind of training and treatment they receive.”

“Of course. I understand how precious they are, so I give you my word.”

“According to the contract signed at the time of rental, you must pay special attention to the slaves’ food, clothing, shelter, and medical treatment for injuries.”

A thorough asset maintenance clause. The knight commander nodded heavily.

“I will keep it in mind. Any other precautions?”

“If even those minimum conditions are not met.”

The stench of blood fluttered on the wind.

“Those men will ignore the field commander and return to my mansion of their own accord according to their own judgment.”

A suffocating contract termination condition. The only way to control monsters whose leashes were held by their master was through legitimate treatment. The knight commander swallowed dryly.

“If you lack the ability to handle combat slaves, it would be better to simply close the mine gates and quietly starve to death.”

At my brutal remark, the knight commander turned away with a hardened face.

The ten combat slaves lined up behind me. Livestock that wallowed at the very bottom of the empire’s class system. Yet beneath their collarbones, drenched in orc blood and not making a single sound, two crossed swords were branded clearly.

A red mark proving their master’s absolute ownership. And the overwhelming martial prowess that had just butchered giant orcs into chunks of meat.

It was heavy proof that these beings could not be looked down upon with mere chains around their necks or trivial ranks. An instinctive threat that any clumsy disrespect might result in their greatswords taking one’s head.

“Hmph… I will pay the utmost attention.”

In the end, the old knight commander nodded heavily, suppressed by that ferocious aura.

I left the combat slaves on the field and boarded the carriage heading not to the Arzen mansion but to the main castle. However, Elina, who had been following me, stopped at the carriage door.

Her leather breastplate was splattered with disgusting orc blood and shredded flesh. She hesitated, worried about dirtying the carriage interior.

“Did I tell you not to get in?”

At my indifferent question, a faint blush spread across Elina’s pale cheeks. She carefully climbed into the carriage and settled into the seat opposite me.

Inside the rattling carriage. Brutal gear stained with blood. Yet the female swordsman’s underlying form revealed above it was breathtakingly smooth and elegant.

It must have been thanks to the ancient elves’ breathing technique. Life had returned to her previously pallid skin, and her blue eyes shone with transparent joy at having reopened her blocked Mana Heart.

“Maintaining that breathing only during battle is not enough.”

At my pointed remark, Elina’s shoulders stiffened.

“Replace your everyday breathing itself completely with that ancient method. Only then will your body regain its full value.”

A thorough maintenance directive for a malfunctioning asset. Yet Elina’s gaze was filled with blind trust toward the master who refused to give up on her and pushed her beyond her limits.

“I will keep it in mind.”

She bowed her head with a trembling breath. Soon, as if hesitating over something, she carefully opened her lips.

“Master. May I… ask you one question?”

I withdrew my gaze from the window and gave a silent nod of my chin. With permission granted, Elina clasped her hands tightly on her lap and asked.

“What do you think of… Her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Grace Vivian?”