Chapter 110
Chapter 110
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 110
Chapter Title: Rehabilitation Program (3)
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A prison cell key was thrust into Conan's hand.
Underground Level 3.
She descended the underground stairs alongside a delinquent knight from the North.
"......"
However, the two didn't exchange a single word.
In truth, Loran—the knight branded for assaulting comrades and chronic drunkenness—had tried to strike up a conversation first.
But she offered no reply, maintaining a silence as sharp as a blade.
From that point on, even Loran held his tongue.
Though inwardly, his eyes betrayed a desire to build some rapport someday.
No matter how plain her lowly guard uniform was...
Conan's refined, aristocratic features naturally drew people in.
'The prison basement... It must be grim and dreary.'
The Bacar mafiosi got cozy rooms with plenty of sunlight for their own, while imperial knights were treated like dirt.
The commander already found the blatant favoritism suspicious as hell.
'Whatever. It's nothing compared to brutal trench warfare.'
A veteran of countless battles, she shrugged it off and pushed open the underground corridor door.
Bracing for the foul stench that would pour out.
'A few days of this? Just grit my teeth and call it training... Hm?'
But the corridor that greeted her shattered her expectations.
"What the hell is this?"
Loran wore the same dumbfounded expression, scratching his black hair.
"A red carpet in an underground hallway? Chandeliers for lighting?"
Loran reached up incredulously toward the ceiling.
Standing on tiptoe, he barely tapped the chandelier, and a beautiful melody chimed forth.
"This is real crystal...?"
They'd assumed they'd been dumped underground out of discrimination.
Instead, it was VIP treatment that left Conan stunned.
The cell door revealed top-grade beds, desks—everything imaginable.
And on the desk, a friendly note: "Come find us anytime if you need anything."
"This is all wrong. Something's seriously off."
Unlike the delinquent knight who flopped straight onto the comfy bed, she stayed on high alert.
She stepped back into the corridor and quietly released her mana.
Then, sensing intense mana at the far end, she whipped around.
'What's that kid?'
She couldn't help furrowing her brow.
The opulent underground was weird enough, but a little girl too?
"Hmmm~."
A girl with emerald-green hair, hands on her hips.
Wearing a wide-brimmed hat indoors, she eyed Conan and Loran.
"Has Derek finally sent this body a sacrifice?"
Her archaic speech.
Her snow-white skin and frilly dress created an eerie vibe.
"Well, he has been neglecting me lately. Come hither."
"What the heck is that kid?"
Loran tilted his head beside Conan.
"Hm~, fresh boy and girl. The others were so lackluster, but my current state leaves me no choice."
Too far to catch the girl's mutterings clearly.
So Loran stepped forward.
"Hey, kid. You the guard here? Living way too cushy for a prisoner."
"Hehe... That so intrigues you?"
Franca adjusted her wide-brimmed hat.
Then, with a light step forward...
"......!!"
She vanished and reappeared behind the delinquent knight in an instant.
"No need to know who I am. You'll sleep soundly for a few days."
Franca swung her hand like a blade slicing wind.
Even a delinquent knight who'd passed proper trials went down with one strike to the nape.
"Gah!!"
It took less than two seconds.
She whipped back to Conan with unnatural speed.
Poised to knock her out and drain her blood...
"So the rules weren't off after all."
Franca's slender wrist was swiftly pinned by Conan.
"Not your average girl."
Golden eyes gleamed through her violet hair.
She unleashed her hidden Swordmaster aura in full.
"Gah! Put me down!!"
As Franca struggled, Conan slipped her hands under the girl's armpits.
Lifted her up like a stretched-out cat.
"Impressive talent. Self-taught moves like that?"
"You're the one hiding power! Just as shady as Derek!"
Conan chuckled at the girl's featherweight.
Ever unflappable, the commander asked leisurely.
"Why attack us, anyway? We're not prisoners."
"......Not prisoners? But this guy on the floor looks like total riffraff."
Her eyes screamed authorized to subdue troublemakers.
She felt like the prison's disciplinarian.
'Hiring a 14-year-old for this?'
Conan mentally added to Derek's rap sheet.
For if he betrayed the Empire to found a kingdom—she'd pin crimes on him.
"We're here for training. Calm down first."
The violet-haired woman set Franca down gently.
The head-shorter girl crossed her arms, pouting.
"Pity. Dark's off tending his garden, leaving me bored."
"Dark...?"
Grand Elder Dark, imprisoned here?
Why call him like a buddy?
Her zero social skills suggested long confinement.
Conan's opinion of Derek Minster plummeted in real time.
"You don't look like you need training. Already Swordmaster level."
"You sensed my realm? How?"
"I'm a whopping 200..."
"200 what?"
Franca halted mid-boast, as if warned.
"A whopping 200 days of magic training."
Just 200 days of magic, and she KO'd a full knight?
And sniffed out my hidden realm?
'No ordinary talent.'
Pure self-study? Tower Master potential at least.
Maybe even rival Empress Leah, the Empire's top mage.
"Impressive. So why's a kid like you locked up?"
"Derek's doing. Can't let my great power loose, so he stashed me underground."
Then it clicked for Conan—all the pieces fit.
'Spotting talent, locking it away to nurture.'
Why the rules swore no girls.
Why keep her from sunlight.
The puzzle solved itself.
"Derek Minster... unforgivable."
The Northern commander scowled fiercely.
How long had he kept her caged? Her face was ghostly pale.
Hiding a gem like this while grinning innocently before Camillia.
Conan's violet mana roiled ominously.
"Wanna come outside with big sis?"
Franca's lips curved—the answer she'd craved.
She asked with pure, wistful innocence.
"For real?"
"Of course. I'll let your talents bloom freely."
The Northern commander gazed at future talent with resolve.
To keep such prodigy from leaking abroad.
"Unleash my power fully... Tempting."
"Outside's got way cooler stuff than this."
This place was luxurious enough to prick her conscience a bit.
But the world wasn't all gold and jewels.
Conan planned to recruit her to her and the Princess's faction.
"Then I'll grab my parasol. No use for it here—such a shame."
"Got it. Get ready, and sis'll handle the rest."
Conan smiled sweetly—unthinkable for a Northern commander.
Battle-hardened, yet kindly in her way.
"Aye, I'll wait here. Give Derek hell—"
The guard-clad woman patted Franca's hat lightly.
Then, rising, her face hardened to commander's chill.
She glanced skyward.
The warden's mana-laced voice echoed.
"Today's first event begins shortly. New arrivals, assemble at the training yard."
"Right. First up: unarmed combat?"
With a rescue target secured.
Conan wouldn't hold back anymore.
She tossed the out-cold Loran onto the bed and ascended alone.
Emerging into the sun-drenched yard.
She locked eyes with the sinister warden atop the platform.
"All present? Time to split into teams."
Northern knights versus Minster Guard—naturally.
The warden joined the Guard team.
"First match: step forward."
A hulking man strode out at his word.
Everyone knew him—cheers erupted nonstop.
"Don Chichi!! Don Chichi!!"
Don Chichi...?
The old mafia boss?
"Guys, don't call me that in front of Boss Derek. Sorry, Don Derek."
"I said no nicknames outside. People misunderstand."
He looked like a mob boss gone legit in politics, image squeaky clean.
Conan aside, other knights sensed the mismatch, loosening up warily.
"Still just a civilian bodyguard."
"Yeah. Time to show him."
Hot-tempered tall knights, stamped as delinquents.
They hopped onto the sand one by one, tying knots from the vice warden to their thighs.
"Simple rules: Grab your opponent's knot, down them first—win."
The blue-haired vice warden explained flatly.
"Back fully touching sand loses."
Northern knight and ex-mafia boss faced off.
Red and blue knots on thighs.
"Big guy, cocky much? Underestimate our knights?"
"Never. Always respected knights. Even those who borrowed from us—I was kind."
'Our mana levels are higher for sure.'
The knight facing Don Chichi seemed squad leader caliber.
Approaching average knight strength: mid Sword Expert.
The bearish man? Low-tier—clear gap.
But...
The match started with a shocking upset.
"Wh-what...?"
The average knight was hoisted airborne instantly.
"Hraaah!!"
Mana reserves differ, but application yields explosive power.
Don Chichi unleashed insane stamina and muscle on meager mana.
Prison pants bulging like they'd burst.
Slam—!!!
"Guhhh...!! My back!!"
Like a grizzly casually yeeting a hound.
First match ended in seconds.
"Minster Guard wins."
Clea declared firmly.
Bacar guards roared.
"Woooh—!! Don Chichi!! Don Chichi!!"
The ex-boss waved modestly.
The sand-covered knight dazed out blankly.
"Next challenger? Northern knights ain't what they used to be."
Other knights ground teeth at Warden Derek's taunt.
But unlike cocky starts, none rushed forward.
They'd seen a peer flattened.
Delinquent knights prized pride over discipline—couldn't stomach the shame.
Except one among them.
She prized justice and order above all.
Conan Bright.
She stripped off her prison tee...
Tied the knot to her ample hips and stepped up.
Her hidden sensual figure drew every eye—knights and guards alike.
Just a white tee before, yet captivating.
"I'll go."
She retied her headband tight.
Stood tall before the head-and-a-half-taller Don Chichi.
"You sure? No mercy for ladies."
"No men or women in war."
Knot tied to thigh.
Surprisingly, her girth matched the prior knight's.
Plush outside, rock-solid core.
"Sturdy one. Glad she's guarding us."
"......"
Don Chichi smirked, gripping knots.
Whistle blew.
Peep—!!
Both erupted vast mana, clashing.
"Hup!!"
Unlike the first knight, the ex-boss bellowed.
Pushed with overwhelming muscle.
But.
"Hm?"
The giant felt a chill down his neck.
The frail-seeming woman's body was...
A massive steed—dense and unyielding.
"What's wrong, Don Chichi? Where's that momentum?"
The Northern commander smirked faintly.
With the face of one who preferred gun maintenance over dandies.
Voice thrilled more by awe-inspired terror than affection.
"......!!"
Conan flowed with Don Chichi's push.
Reversed it, slamming his back to sand first.
Thud!!
The giant flopped down.
She stood firm atop, gazing nobly at the warden.
As if to say, who won?
"Conis Bright wins."
The vice warden read the alias from the roster.
Delinquent knights united in cheer.
"We won this time!!"
She'd unwittingly rallied the selfish lot.
Riding the momentum, Conan crooked a taunting finger.
"Warden. Your turn."
I smirked at her fierce gaze.
'Our commander's having fun.'
I'd known her identity for a while.
"Fine. Let's throw down."
Past life: war hero discarded like trash after the Princess died.
This life: promoted commander.
Time to see if she'd vessel the Empire's defense.
We gripped knots, lowering stances.
Her hot breath tickled my nose.
'Why's my nape prickling since earlier?'
I glanced back casually.
No one there, yet eyes bored into me somehow.