Loyalty Can Sometimes Become Poison
The early morning air was crisp. In the wide training grounds tucked behind the annex, the sharp crack of wood striking wood rang out in rapid succession before the dawn mist had even begun to lift. Clang! Clang! Elina’s wooden sword carved a ferocious arc through the air as it rushed toward me.
I twisted my body lightly, letting the blow slide past, then drove the pommel of the short dagger in my hand straight into the pressure point on her wrist joint.
“Kh!”
Her grip loosened instantly. The wooden sword clattered to the ground. I kicked it up with the tip of my foot and caught it with casual ease.
“Your movements are too large. That slows your recovery speed. If you face an opponent like me—one who excels at closing distance in close-quarters combat—that tiny opening will lead directly to a fatal wound.”
I tapped the dirt floor with the tip of the blade, my tone dry and clinical.
“Reduce the recoil in your shoulders. Train yourself to retrieve the weapon using only the rotational force of your lower body.”
Victor could wield four of this world’s signature weapons—sword, spear, mace, and dagger—at a master level. It was a legacy from his days as a lowly assistant in a slave trading house. The owner who had taken him in had once served as a lifelong martial arts instructor for the imperial knight order. Victor had absorbed every technique like a sponge, compressing them into a brutally efficient close-combat style.
Of course, Victor could manipulate mana as well. But he had never once revealed it in battle. Mana was to remain a perfect hidden card, deployed only for assassinations or decisive killing blows.
Even while keeping that trump card thoroughly concealed, his rigorously trained body and tactical mind were more than enough to dismantle a mid-tier aura knight with ease. It was the same reason the combat slaves under my command obeyed me without question. They had learned combat techniques directly from Victor, and every single day they felt in their bones just how unfathomably deep his martial prowess truly ran.
After correcting her stance, Elina picked up the wooden sword I had tossed her and reset her posture. The orthodox swordsmanship of the knight order she had devoted her entire life to training in—those minute bottlenecks that had always blocked her progress—now opened up as if by magic with a single brief piece of advice from me.
A flash of intense shock crossed Elina’s blue eyes.
“And about your mana heart.”
At those words, her shoulders stiffened.
“It isn’t completely shattered. The fragments of your crushed mana core are simply scattered throughout the pathways, blocking them.”
“……!”
“When you inhale, bypass the auxiliary circuits around your heart. It’s a method of forcibly circulating mana by avoiding the severed paths.”
The ancient elf mana circulation method that the true male protagonist of the original novel was supposed to teach her while healing her. I had stolen that cheat-like knowledge—originally meant to accelerate the protagonist’s growth—and injected it into her first.
This was one moment I had to thank my little sister for never shutting up about the novel after I got off work.
Elina breathed in according to my instructions, half skeptical. In that instant, a tiny corner of the clogged circuit opened ever so slightly, and the scattered mana particles began to connect with a faint glow.
Elina’s eyes widened in astonishment as they turned toward me.
Just how much knowledge does this man possess?
A deep question flickered across her face. I wiped the sweat from my neck with the towel draped over my shoulders and turned away indifferently.
“Don’t neglect the new breathing technique I just taught you.”
By noon, with the sun blazing directly overhead, the front entrance of the mansion shook with the thunder of urgent hoofbeats.
“Open the gate at once!”
The uninvited guest who burst in, covered in dust, was an elderly knight commander wearing armor engraved with the Arzen family crest. He had been stationed at the monster subjugation site near the mana stone mine when word reached him that the young head of house had signed an exclusive contract with a back-alley merchant guild. Without pausing to think, he had mounted his horse and ridden straight here to verify their military and medical supply capabilities with his own eyes.
I stood on the front steps with my legs crossed in a relaxed pose, looking down at him.
“An unannounced inspection before the ink on the contract has even dried? His Grace the Duke certainly keeps diligent subordinates.”
“Even if the young lady was deceived by your silver tongue, you won’t fool my eyes! Bring out the medical facilities and the troops you intend to provide at once!”
The blatant informal speech and threats directed at his lord’s business partner. But I had no reason to cling to the petty etiquette of noble society. I crossed my arms and responded in an equally dry tone.
“Is barging into another person’s business and shoving your face in theirs the Arzen way?”
“What did you say? You lowly slave trader dare—!”
Srrrng—!
Insulted, the knight commander’s eyes reddened with rage as he half-drew the longsword at his waist. I stared straight at him without so much as blinking.
“Draw it. Then cut off my head.”
“……!”
“But the moment my breath stops, the only hope left for House Arzen will vanish forever.”
The knight commander’s hand froze mid-motion.
“That shallow loyalty of yours will become the perfect blade that pushes His Grace the Duke off a cliff and ultimately severs the family’s lifeline.”
The cruel truth pierced straight through his heart. The blood drained from the knight commander’s face. His expression twisted, and with a trembling hand he slowly sheathed his sword once more.
“……My actions were rash. I apologize for the discourtesy shown to the young lady’s business partner.”
The sight of him swallowing his pride and bowing his head. At least his devotion to the family was genuine.
“However, I must confirm with my own eyes that the forces promised are truly sufficient.”
“As you wish.”
Without hesitation, I turned and led him toward the training grounds.
Inside the vast training yard, combat slaves were engaged in sparring that looked no different from actual combat. They swung massive warhammers, dual blades, and every other weapon with lethal force. Even when flesh was sliced and blood sprayed, not a single scream escaped them. It was a mechanical, almost dance-like slaughter.
The knight commander’s jaw dropped as he watched the brutal training. Even with decades of battlefield experience, he instantly realized that every single one of these slaves possessed martial prowess that surpassed his own.
Moreover, the slaves waiting on the sidelines were perfectly performing efficient first aid on their own wounds, staunching bleeding with practiced, economical movements.
“T-this is impossible. Even the regular knight order of House Arzen doesn’t have training this systematic.”
Shaken, the knight commander turned to me and asked urgently.
“I know it’s shameless to ask, but… could we possibly adopt this training method for our own Arzen knights as well?”
A firm resolve to learn even from a hated merchant’s system if it was for the sake of the family. I respected his sincerity, yet drew a firm line.
“Instruction regarding military training is not included in the scope of the contract we signed yesterday. That would require opening the books again and stamping a new agreement.”
“Ah…”
The knight commander clicked his tongue in disappointment. At that exact moment—
Gurgle.
A loud rumble echoed from the knight commander’s stomach, breaking the silence. He had ridden here without even eating. The embarrassed knight commander cleared his throat and averted his eyes.
“Ahem. It’s merely because my digestion is still quite vigorous.”
A brazen excuse meant to brush off the humiliation. I gave a faint smirk and called out to Silvia behind me.
“Silvia. Prepare dinner early today. Since our guest here claims to have exceptional digestive power, make sure the portions are especially generous.”
Silvia bowed her head and turned away. The knight commander, who had barged in uninvited only to end up mooching a meal, flushed to the tips of his ears and cleared his throat awkwardly.
A short while later, a lavish feast had been laid out in the first-floor dining hall.
“T-this flavor…!”
The knight commander’s eyes widened in shock. Herb-aged grilled lamb chops and the highest-grade salmon steak that melted on the tongue. The quality was something one would be hard-pressed to find even in the capital’s finest restaurants.
After devouring his plate in record time, the knight commander asked with sparkling eyes, “Who is the chef in charge of these dishes? Did you recruit a former palace cook?”
Silvia, who was refilling his drink, answered in her neat, professional tone.
“A slave with exceptional talent for kitchen work is solely responsible for preparing the meals.”
The knight commander’s gaze shifted to Silvia. The clear silver hair cascading over her immaculate maid uniform. The calm, intelligent eyes that showed no emotional disturbance. In that moment, he keenly felt that every single member of staff in this mansion—from combat slaves to maids—far exceeded ordinary standards.
After finishing his meal, the knight commander spoke carefully.
“I am grateful for the hospitality. Now, I would like to inspect the interior of the alchemy workshop—the most important part.”
I set down my teacup and refused outright.
“What alchemist in the world would openly reveal the inside of his workshop to outsiders?”
“But I need concrete proof! You may trample my pride, but please—at least give me the conviction that the young lady’s decision was not a mistake…”
A desperate plea. Yet I simply leaned back in my chair and murmured softly.
“In the past, it was I who breached the supposedly impenetrable security of House Arzen and took the previous head’s life.”
The knight commander’s shoulders jerked violently. For a moment, rage seemed to flare at the reminder that I was the one responsible for the family’s tragedy. His fists turned bone-white.
“If I have promised to meet the delivery deadline, it means I will deliver the goods on time even if I have to rob the Alchemist Guild’s warehouses. Put aside your needless worries.”
An absolute guarantee backed by a clear track record. The knight commander bit his lip with a complicated expression, then finally bowed his head and left the mansion.
After sending off the uninvited guest, I headed to the alchemy workshop in the basement of the annex.
Creak.
When I opened the heavy iron door, two figures could be seen rushing about in the suffocating heat, carrying vials without pause. Theo and Celine, who had skipped even dinner, stood guard before the furnace.
“Pass the stabilizer residue over here immediately. Understood, Assistant? If we cover it with awakening agent catalyst, the efficiency doubles!”
“Y-yes… I’ve p-put it here. Should I keep the flame adjustment like this…?”
Celine was cautious and timid, yet she followed Theo’s instructions with absolute precision. Theo, in turn, mixed casual and polite speech while driving the process forward like a madman.
A genius-level efficiency that intertwined the opposing properties of awakening agents and stabilizers through cross-production, recycling even the residue at one hundred percent.
But I poured cold water on their passionate scene.
“Turn off the furnace right now and eat first.”
At my command, Theo flinched and looked back.
“Oh dear, Master. The flow right now is absolutely perfect, you know?”
“Meals are also an extension of work.”
At my firm order, Theo pouted.
“Master. I’m not a slave—I’m a formally employed alchemist, you know?”
When I simply stared at him in silence, Theo quietly set down his flask and muttered.
“Well… this life is still far better than rolling around under those old guild fossils. Fine, I’ll willingly become Slave Number One without a brand! There!”
An absurd mental victory. I looked at the mountain of vials stacked on the table and asked,
“How much has been produced so far?”
“The process has begun running in perfect sync. At this rate, we can easily churn out fifty sets per day.”
A confident declaration. I recalled the scale of the imperial Alchemist Guild and asked,
“Compared to the Guild’s large-scale workshops, what kind of figure is that?”
Theo snorted triumphantly at my question.
“Even if nearly fifty out of their hundred workers cling to the task, they can only produce a volume similar to ours, and the quality is still slightly inferior.”
Overwhelming output from just two people—equivalent to half the empire’s largest facility. I gazed down indifferently at the two workers, sweat beading on their skin.
Perfectly meshed gears. The scent of capital that held House Arzen’s lifeline in its grasp filled the entire workshop.