“Ugh, I thought I was going to die of boredom.”
Mord sighed, loosening his shoulders, and exited the lecture hall. The knightly studies were dreadfully dull; having experienced the war firsthand, he saw no point in learning anything at a university level.
Training was tedious, sparring was uninspiring, and tactical classes were nothing more than reading textbooks. He’d rather engage in sparring among the Huscals than hope to learn anything here.
“Alright, let’s go check on our kids!”
Though Frechenkaya was a desolate city, Mord, true to his nature, found a suitable pastime amidst it – volunteering at an orphanage.
Surprisingly, it started off somewhat coercive and humiliating, but the circumstances hardly mattered if he genuinely enjoyed the situation.
With lighter steps, Mord headed towards the orphanage. Just thinking about those lively little ones brought a smile to his face. They were charming, lively, bold, and talented children.
“I have no idea how they trick my senses, but….”
While deceiving the senses of an alert Huscal, sneaking up from behind, almost resulted in him reaching for his axe; however, the director here wasn’t an ordinary person.
“Mord.”
“…?!!”
Taken aback, Mord instinctively reached for his side, moving backward. In an instant, a chilling and hair-raising aura permeated the alley, reminiscent of a lurking wolf in the shadows poised to strike.
The wild but disciplined essence emanated from the alley’s corner.
‘What the hell..’
Mord gulped down his dry saliva. It was a familiar sensation. There was only one person outside the Dragon’s Den with this level of presence. He could recognize it instantly. This… this…
That infuriating Big Brother!
Why? How on earth is he here?
“Einar, Big Brother…?”
In Frechenkaya, is there anyone capable of stopping an enraged big brother? No, that’s a wrong expression. It’s not a person; the military would be needed.
Is there a military force here capable of stopping ‘this man’ in this city?
“You’re missing a report.”
“Big brother, just a moment. I don’t quite understand, so, could you please explain how you came here… say something…”
“I received a letter from Essi.”
Essi’s letter…? What did that niece say to make his big brother dash all the way from distant Drovian, bursting with energy, and eyeing him with intent to kill?
“Who is it?”
“…What?”
“I asked who the man Essi is marrying.”
Explosive ferocity bursts with each letter.
Ah, Essi. What on earth have you done?
Mord, resentful of his naive niece, looked at the man before him. The terror of the demons, the bloodshed of battles. The annihilation of Einar.
Gulping down his saliva, Mord carefully lowered his weapon and knelt, as if saying, at least this way he could die comfortably.
Even in the scorching summer sunlight, the alley felt as chilling as ice.
“Speak. Who’s the guy Essi’s been meeting these days?”
“That… that’s…”
Mord strained his mind to the fullest. Who could it be? No man dared to approach Ecdysis while he watched. Even during volunteer hours, surveillance on Ecdysis might have slackened, but there should still be signs.
If a young warrior in the prime of his life engages in romance, it’s inevitable for it to escape the eyes of the seasoned veteran.
However… if Essi recently met a man…
‘Huh?’
Ivan Petrovich.
Mord’s expression stiffened. There was one. Ivan! Advocating vegetarianism to Ecdysis and occasionally helping with training…
But the age difference… No, before that. Ivan, that guy, was trying to marry Ecdysis? Does that even make sense?
Mord’s eyes rolled around. Can he say this? Ivan is not the type to harbor such intentions.
He can’t believe that guy has romantic feelings. Besides, there’s no time for such matters, and Mord owes him his life.
No.
A man from Drovian never forgets a favor.
Mord’s eyes opened with firm determination. He lifted his head resolutely.
“….”
At the corner of the alley, a young man was looking down at him.
With a dense aura of magic enveloping his body and an immense anger always coursing through his veins, deflecting even the aging process. A monster preserving the prime of his physique from his youth.
One of the men who far transcends the limits of humanity. Einar’s eyes, encountered after a long time, shone sharply, as if merely looking at them could tear the soul apart.
Yet, Mord was also a man from Drovian. Warriors from Droan never… never.
“Ivan Petrovich, sir!!”
Perhaps the weight of a past where he owed his life outweighs the brotherly bond. After all, the debt of life can be settled separately later.
As a steadfast Drovian Huscal, Mord decided to pledge allegiance to his big brother.
“He’s dead.”
“I thought so too! Sir, that bastard is alive!!”
“Hmm…”
The flesh that had surged like a flame from Einar’s body began to waver and blur. Soon, he wore a perplexed expression, furrowing his brow.
“He survived being beheaded by the Dragon Commander.”
“Yes, sir!”
“That’s… surprising.”
Einar turned his head and growled softly.
“Find him.”
“Yes, sir!”
Huscals, leaning against the alley and walls, simultaneously scattered throughout the city and rushed away.
Chapter 80: Blind Date
In a languid afternoon, Ecdysis suffered defeat in the battle against musical notes.
It was a spectacular, typically Drovian-style demise for the valiant female warrior. Well, she had done her best, at least.
Half-dozing on the sheet music covered with doodles, she suddenly jerked awake, surprised.
“Wha…!?”
Hastily wiping her mouth, she glanced around. Fortunately, it seemed like no one cared about her correction.
Yawning and stretching, she noticed peculiar things in her eyes.
A bizarre, hopping creature leaping between the walls… Dressed as if straight out of Drovian, wandering around schools and alleys…
“What is this, still a dream…?”
Ecdysis shook her head in bewilderment. Was she tired lately to have such dreams? Why were uncles in Frechenkaya… no, ‘uncles’?
She locked eyes with one of the men. He grinned, waving his muscular arms covered in tattoos.
“Hey Essi, how’ve you been!”
“Uh… uh…?”
“Our princess, see you later! Uncle’s a bit busy right now!”
The cheerful warrior who greeted her warmly hopped off the wall and vanished.
Ecdysis stood there, mouth agape, then soon scanned her surroundings. Students, terror-stricken, were screaming and running in every direction!
“Dream… it’s not a dream!!”
Ecdysis exclaimed, standing up and sprinting towards the direction where the uncles had disappeared.
Why on earth! Even to school! Uncles, in plural form, gathering here!
I can’t let them ruin my school life any further!!
Giving up halfway on the orchestra, and just starting to get along with the vocal and kids!
Ecdysis screamed and rushed towards the school gate.
***
Elizaveta had to ask, not even noticing she dropped the pen she was holding.
“…Clarify once again. Are you saying I am currently dreaming?”
“No, Your Highness.”
The Grand Marshal, sweating, was kneeling at her feet, finding it difficult to logically explain the current situation.
“It seems King Einar is in Frechenkaya now… um… in this city.”
“Seems to be here? What kind of statement is that? If he’s here, he’s here; if not, he’s not.”
“Well… It appears to be an unauthorized entry….”
“What the hell are the immigration authorities doing, there have been so many people smuggled into this country this year alone… No, never mind. What on earth would a king of a country do to smuggle in another country… No… That’s it. Did he… come alone?”
“No, Your Highness. We estimate at least ten forces resembling Huscals have been confirmed.”
“Oh dear.”
Elizaveta sighed deeply, covering her forehead.
“They won’t stay quiet, will they? Is there any attempt to incite conflict…?”
“He seemed to be searching for someone, but so far, there haven’t been any significant peculiarities. How about summoning the Capital Defense Army…?”
“Throw an army in front of that Einar? Haha, my dear, you have a strong sense of humor.”
Elizaveta, who had experienced wars, even at the forefront, and had served as the commander of the Cleansup Unit at a young age, knew the initial purpose of forming the Cleansup Unit was to provide rear support for the hero party.
In other words, she was one of the few individuals who had faced the hero party’s battles directly on the front lines.
‘Einar chose personnel for facing legions.’
Einar, the [Fortress Destroyer], and [Bloodthirst] had specialized personnel for large-scale combat. When facing these individuals, the quality of the forces mattered more than their quantity.
More importantly, Einar was currently the king of Drovian. Why the king of one country secretly crossed the borders of another, no one knew, but who could understand the mind of a man whose thoughts were filled with nothing but fights.
The current turmoil could escalate into a war depending on Elizaveta’s decision. Elizaveta suddenly felt a bitter taste in her mouth.
“What on earth is the Foreign Intelligence Agency doing if they couldn’t even detect the disappearance of a king from another country? Huh? What should I do in this situation…?”
Elizaveta sobbed, pressing her temples. She almost burst into tears.
The carefully prepared festival exploded, the matchmaking business was one failure after another, nobles wouldn’t listen, the military was still restless.
Amidst all this, from what used to be a friendly nation, Drovian, suddenly the king came in, ignoring all diplomatic procedures and lines, firing upon the city.
She felt a migraine coming on and sniffled. All because of that damn Alexander. She decided to think that way.
“Summon… Summon Vanca.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
In this city, only a couple of individuals possessed the potential to restrain Einar.
Enrique was currently unavailable, leaving Ivan as the sole person she could rely on.
With Ivan, at least she’d have the opportunity to converse with Einar. She shook her head and rose from her seat.
“No, I will seek out Vanca myself. I need to handle this personally.”
“But, Your Highness, it’s too dangerous!”
“If Einar harbors melicious intentions and sneaked into this city, there is no safe place in this city.”
Elizaveta left the office with exhausted eyes.
***
At that moment, Ivan was confronting Einar.
“You, bastard.”
Einar growled like a beast.
“I thought you were dead…!!”
He was even the one who offered flowers at Ivan’s grave. With a complex expression mixed with betrayal and joy, he looked into Ivan’s expressionless eyes and spoke.
“You’ve changed quite manly!”
“Eh.”
Isabelle, who was standing beside Ivan, burst into laughter.
She looked at Einar’s intricately braided beard and, after gazing at Ivan’s face, she lightly patted her forehead.
“Drovian men.”
