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Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 6 - Chapter 2




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Chapter 2: In Search of New Power 

“C’mon, you can do better than that! Your swings are weak! Put more force into it! Swing like you know you’re gonna cut through the enemy even if they’re in full armor!” 

Twenty children swung their swords in practice, sweat rolling off their bodies as the sun’s rays poured down on them. They’d had their breakfast and were now two hours into their training. Another group of children was training a short distance away. Each group of children was instructed by a member of the Crimson Lion group. 

“Our lad may be easy on you, but that doesn’t mean you can slack off! After all, he’s not the one who’s gonna die when it’s time for war! That’ll be you! Imagine someone you hate is right in front of you! There, you imagining it?! In that case, cut them down, kill them! Put everything you have into it!” 

Shouts and battle cries echoed through the plain. This was indeed the sight of soldiers being trained. Battle cries were important in real combat, as it both roused oneself and rattled the enemy. And even during training, it served to rouse the children’s emotions. As soon as they began showing fatigue, the volume of the instructors’ shouting rose up at once. 

The mercenaries training the children knew all of this from first hand experience. As soon as the children’s battle cries grew weaker, they shouted at them. 

“Mike! How’s it going?” Ryoma called out to one of the mercenaries. 

“Ah, it’s you, lad. Doing the rounds?” Upon hearing Ryoma’s voice, Mike let the scowl on his face relax. “All right, all of you, take a break! Don’t try to cool off with your sweat, wipe off and line up once you’re done!” 

At those words, the children cheered happily. 

“Go on, on the double!” 

The children realized this amicable man only scowled and shouted at them because this training would have implications on their lives. One couldn’t function as a teacher if their students made light of them. 

And while the mercenaries didn’t see physical punishment as an optimal solution, it was at times necessary. If it would truly lead to their survival, they didn’t mind being feared and hated by these children. They would beat and put them in their place if the situation called for it. 

Well, it would be a huge scandal if this was Japan... Ryoma cracked a bitter smile as that thought crossed his mind. 

“Oh, looks like each squad’s training is going smoothly... We should be starting comprehensive combat training tomorrow, right? I’ve been wondering about it.” 

It was roughly a month since Ryoma divided the children into squads of five, and organized them into platoons of four squads each. Of course, each platoon was led by an experienced member of the Crimson Lions. 

In other words, he had the mercenaries teach groups of twenty, with those that weren’t allotted to any platoon patrolling and helping with training exercises. Ryoma did all this to make sure the children acquired real experience on the battlefield as fast as possible. He concluded that discarding training their individual skills in favor of building up their teamwork would increase their chances of survival. 

He saw Helena as a living example of this. By casting aside the dignity and pride knights boasted, she elevated herself to the rank of Rhoadseria’s Ivory Goddess of War. In other words, she focused on safe battle in numbers rather than the individual strength of each soldier. 

Ryoma decided, then, that casting aside individual training to begin with would allow them to learn faster. Of course, they would have to focus on their individual skills in the future, but if they were to rear them up to become an immediate army, he decided it would be better to focus on one aspect. 

They were split into groups of five, and they all ate and slept in the same place. Living like that for a month formed a sense of fellowship between the children. And that feeling of camaraderie filled them with a desire to keep one another safe. The results were exactly what Ryoma hoped they would be. 

The only question that remained was how much of the basic combat training really sank in within this one short month. 

“Well... You should probably ask old Boltz and Sis too, but if you ask me, they’re doing well. They’re putting their voices into it, and they seem to get along as a group, too... All that’s left is to see them do all of that without turning to look at us.” 

The children still held some suspicion and fear toward Ryoma and the mercenaries, but at the very least they weren’t apathetic anymore. They gladly ate their food and had their clothes washed. They slept within tents Ryoma’s group had erected, and while it wasn’t as soft as a real bed, it was much better than how they were treated when they were slaves. 

But most importantly of all, their expressions became brighter, likely owing to the fact they no longer had to fear the whip. Or, at the very least, they knew they wouldn’t be beaten for irrational reasons. 

As proof, the children didn’t seem to be eyeing Mike with terror. Even as he shouted at them with a severe expression on his face, the children realized he was treating them as equals. This was something Ryoma firmly instructed the Crimson Lion mercenaries to do before the training started. And thankfully, the Crimson Lion’s members were all of commoner background, so they easily understood Ryoma’s intentions. 

Most adventurers and mercenaries were of common birth. They all thought, at one point or another, that had luck not been on their side, they may well have ended up slaves themselves. Had Ryoma told someone of knight or noble pedigree to treat the children with respect, he’d be scoffed at for trying to treat slaves kindly and ignored. 

“That’s good, everyone seems to be getting by... I looked around the other squads, and they all seem to be working on their sword swings.” 

“Aye, we’re having them train that way. Their form’s getting better, given it’s only been a month...” 

The children were gripping swords meant for adults, provided to Ryoma’s group by the Mystel Company. Following the negotiations they had a few days ago, Ryoma gained connections with the Mystel Company with Count Salzberg’s recommendation. Count Salzberg did know about his meeting with Simone, but apparently Ryoma was able to successfully convince him nothing came of it. 

Everything’s going according to plan for now. Ryoma nodded with satisfaction at Mike’s report. 

It had been only a month. They were given proper meals, sufficient time to sleep and moderate training. Thanks to that, the children’s adolescent bodies gained muscle mass at a steady pace. Of course, one month’s worth of training wasn’t enough to elicit any kind of dramatic change. 

But little by little, ever so gradually, the children were maturing. When the slave merchant handed them over to Ryoma, they were all emaciated from malnutrition. But the slaver didn’t lie when he said he picked healthy slaves. 

“But really, giving them round candies as rewards for good behavior really does work... They all practice with a different light in their eyes. Having them train while dangling prizes over their head. That’s the kind of idea only you come up with, lad! The kids are working with an entirely different kind of fervor, you know?” 

“That’s good... Well, I guess commoners don’t get to taste sweets too often, either. I figured this would be effective.” 

“Yeah... I mean, they’re slaves. Even if you gave them money, they wouldn’t have any idea how to spend it. I think it was a good idea.” Mike concluded his words and cast a kind glance behind him. 

There, the children were wiping off their sweat and lining up. 

“Well, if you’ll excuse me...” He rose to his feet and grabbed hold of a small sack dangling from his belt. 

“Sorry, Mike,” Ryoma suddenly stopped him. “Let me do it today.” 

“Huh...” Mike seemed surprised by Ryoma’s order. “Well, all right...” 

“Thanks, Mike.” Ryoma said, taking the bag from Mike’s hand. 

He then approached the first child standing in the column. 

“Your name is... Coile, right?” Ryoma kneeled down, looking at the boy at eye level. “I saw you train. You grip your sword a bit too hard. Try holding it a bit more softly.” 

Referring to the boy by name, Ryoma then dropped three gumdrops into the boy’s hand and gently ruffled his hair. The boy, Coile, regarded the fact that Ryoma knew his name with surprise. 

“E-Erm... I...” Coile was so shocked he couldn’t properly put his gratitude into words. 

“But I know you tried real hard,” Ryoma smiled at him softly. “So today’s special. Go stand in the shade and have your candy.” 

The boy lowered his head deeply in gratitude and sprinted off. Healed by the sight of the boy running along happily, Ryoma motioned for the next child to approach him. At the end of each training day, the instructor would give his squad members a gumdrop. If the instructor thought they really put in their best effort that day, they gave them two gumdrops. 

So long as they didn’t slack off, they got rewarded — this system made the gumdrops into the single sweetest carrot imaginable. It didn’t require that they tug at each other’s feet to be successful, and made sure they were always motivated. 

In this Earth, where sugar was hard to come by, a gumdrop was something most commoners didn’t get to taste often. Ryoma continually bought them from Epirus and handed them out to the children. 

And the effects were dramatic, to say the least. In Japan, a gumdrop or two wouldn’t prompt this much joy out of a child, but it was a much stronger stimulant in this harsh world. One could very much call this a revolutionary idea. 

And yet, Ryoma’s heart was overcome with a tinge of guilt. It didn’t matter how you tried to prop it up — he was using candy to force children into harsh, rigorous training. And yet, Ryoma knew that bringing his own world’s values into the picture was pointless. 

I just gotta remember that this isn’t that world anymore... 

And so, still weighed down by a guilty conscience, Ryoma gave each child candy, referring to them by name and giving them a few encouraging words. Once the last child in the column ran off, Mike cracked a wry smile. 

“Well, damn... I just can’t match you, lad. This’ll make their morale go even higher.” 

No one would call a labor slave by name. After all, a slave’s owner only saw them as tools. But Ryoma referred to them by name, and likely did the same to children from the other squads. He memorized the names of over three hundred people. This was a difficult endeavor to take up. 

It was like this when we joined him, too... This man really is something else... 

He was a lord the likes of which was hard to come by in this world. And that was why serving under him felt like the right choice. But despite the emotion rising up in Mike, Ryoma interpreted his words differently. 

“Hmm? Well, yeah, they cost quite a bit... We’d be in trouble if it didn’t work. Mike, keep working hard on training them tomorrow, too.” 

Mike bowed his head deeply at Ryoma’s words — the highest form of honor he could show toward his king. 

“You can count on me, lad!” 

Accepting Mike’s enthusiastic response, Ryoma walked away. 

All the squads are doing well for now... It all depends on how tomorrow’s training will go... The problem is... 

Ryoma was relieved with the results of his check on the children, but there was still some anxiety brewing in his heart. 

I’m going to start learning thaumaturgy myself tomorrow... I’ve heard about the risks, but I’ll have to accept it, anyway. I can’t take too much time away from Laura and Sara, after all... 

Thaumaturgy was a field that was still unknown to Ryoma, but he wouldn’t be able to move forward without learning how to use it. Gaining this new power was absolutely necessary if he was to survive in the Wortenia peninsula. 

 

The next day, the Malfist sisters approached Ryoma as he was resting after breakfast. Being able to teach Ryoma thaumaturgy seemed to have put them in quite the good mood. They were already smiling and clearly enthusiastic, but there was also a bit of a shadow hanging over their expressions. As if something was also worrying them. 

“Master Ryoma... Today we’ll start working on helping you learn thaumaturgy. Are you prepared?” 

“Yeah. Thanks, you two. I appreciate your help.” Ryoma bowed his head to the sisters. 

When it came to thaumaturgy, at least, Ryoma was their disciple, and saw it as natural to treat the sisters with due respect. Sara, however, regarded his behavior with doubt. They were slaves, and he was their master — the fact he lowered his head before them left her bewildered. But upon seeing Laura shake her head, Sara opted to leave her doubts unsaid. 

The three of them had worked together for nearly a year now, and overcame many challenges alongside Ryoma. They knew his personality very well. Ryoma Mikoshiba was never one to be haughty and underestimate others, and adhered to decorum and politeness. It came to him naturally, and he did so completely unconsciously. 

That was a problem, given that he was in a position that commanded slaves, but that was also what earned him the Malfist sisters’ sincerity. 

“Then let us begin. Master Ryoma, do you remember the different types of thaumaturgy we’ve taught you before?” 

The Malfist sisters had Ryoma sit in the center of the tent, intending to review his knowledge on the subject. 

“Yeah. Verbal thaumaturgy — the one that requires chanting. Martial thaumaturgy, which doesn’t require any chanting, and endowed thaumaturgy, which allows you to seal spells within objects to have them exhibit certain powers. Right?” 

The sisters had already taught him a bit about thaumaturgy while they were still wandering adventurers. They didn’t teach him how to use it at the time because they were traveling, which didn’t give Ryoma the leisure to learn. 

“Correct. And, all types of thaumaturgy consume prana — one’s life energy — in order to exhibit their effects.” Laura said, to which Ryoma nodded wordlessly. 

All of these were things he already knew. 

“Prana is a type of energy that exists within all living things. As such, since thaumaturgy feeds on this power, anyone should be able to control their own Prana and learn thaumaturgy to make use of it.” 

“Figures... That’s why even the kids can learn it, right?” 

Anyone could learn thaumaturgy, regardless of gender or age. 

“Precisely. Anyone can be taught this, even if different people acquire the skill at different speeds. At the earliest, it would take a couple of months to learn the basics, and at the latest it could take six months. I do mean the very basics of thaumaturgy, but that alone can put you head and shoulders above those who haven’t learned it at all.” 

“Yeah, I’ve already told you this, but I’m not expecting to learn how to use it perfectly within just a couple of months. Right now I just want to have the basics down. If that alone should give a child enough manpower to match several adults, after all, then that’s all I need for now.” 

Ryoma didn’t think thaumaturgy’s utility was limited to just battle. It could make even a single child as useful as several adults in terms of sheer working capability. They could cut down trees, ferry stones from quarries and erect houses. And it could be made useful in many ways during everyday life. Ryoma couldn’t see himself ever afford to not capitalize on that power, even if that way of thinking deviated greatly from this world’s perception of common sense. 

The people of this Earth saw thaumaturgy as a unique power granted to them by a god. The name of that god was Menios — the God of Light. He was one of the six gods that were said to have created this world, and considered the central, chief deity. It was said that he granted the power of thaumaturgy onto mankind. 

Not an uncommon narrative. 

Ryoma was raised in Japan, a country that was overall quite secular. Ryoma had also experienced many different kinds of subcultures, which made him pinpoint all sorts of holes in this myth. 

Many polytheistic belief systems in the past worshiped gods which represented individual concepts, seeing them as the building blocks of all creation. Meanwhile, supernatural powers like sorcery and magic were worshiped as special powers granted by gods, or perhaps feared as demonic influence. 

In that regard, the faith in the god of light matched many common threads with ancient religions in the history of Ryoma’s world. Or, put another way, this religious narrative employed many well-used and familiar elements. 

But the problem wasn’t the authenticity of this myth, but rather that it was well-known and believed in throughout the western continent. Many people practiced the Church of Light’s doctrine throughout this land, trusting in the perhaps classic dogma that only those who believe will be granted salvation. 

Several months ago, Ryoma had his men use thaumaturgy to form a bridgehead across the banks of the river Thebes. He only saw it as a convenient power that filled the role of machinery, but this idea would strike the people of this world as shocking, if not blasphemous. The mercenaries were one thing, but had it not been for the greater cause of building fortifications on the battlefield, the knights may have adamantly refused his order. 


Mercenaries and commoners didn’t cling to the faith that much, but for the more privileged knights, nobles and royalty, this was a major issue. They were grown since youth with the belief that they were given the right to rule over others, and that the God of Light granted them the power of thaumaturgy to do so. They perceived it only as a power meant to defend themselves, and only used it in battle. 

Ryoma felt there was a stark contradiction in the idea of using a power granted by god only for battle, but religion was rife with such illogical ideas. That said, he had no intention of calling those beliefs into question. The only thing that mattered to him was whether something could be of use to him. If something wasn’t useful, he would simply ignore it. 

And having come from Japan, Ryoma saw no need to pay any respects to this world’s gods. They were only tools, and the question of whether they could be used or not was far more pertinent than the question of their existence. This was perhaps how the Japanese belief system influenced Ryoma’s outlook. 

“Then if you’re done with the lecture, shouldn’t we begin?” Ryoma asked, to which the sisters nodded and walked around him, standing at his back. 

“This should do for the preface, yes. We will begin. Are you sure you’re ready, Master Ryoma?” 

“Yeah. Go ahead.” Ryoma sat cross-legged, as formerly instructed, and nodded. 

He felt the sisters’ palms press against his back. 

““Then we begin!”” 

The moment the twins made that exclamation, Ryoma felt something hot spill over his back. It spread from the sisters’ hands and gradually crawled up his spine. Ryoma was overcome with the tingling, almost frightening feeling of something creeping up his body. 

“Try taking deep breaths, through your nose,” Laura instructed him. “And exhale slowly through your mouth... Calm your heart and try to relax your body... Can you feel something warm spreading through your back?” 

Ryoma nodded shortly and closed his eyes, abiding by Laura’s words. He directed his consciousness to the warm sensation spreading from his back, as if trying to control the heat running through his body with his own will. 

“It’s like my body’s on fire...” A small whisper left his lips. 

His face contorted in pain, and labored gasps escaped his mouth. How long did this all last? Several minutes? Dozens of minutes, perhaps? Whichever it may have been, it felt like eternity to Ryoma. But the fact even Ryoma’s usual stoic facade made way for an expression of pain likely stood as testament to the agony of it all. 

What started as a warmth that spread out from the center of the Malfist sisters’ palms had become a burning heat that rushed through his back like wildfire. Ryoma desperately withstood the urge to scream out from the heat and pain. It was then that he noticed the taste of rusty metal filling his mouth — he’d likely clenched his teeth too hard in his attempts to hold back the pain. 

“We are now sending prana directly into your body from our hands, Master Ryoma. Put up with it for a while longer... Now, try to manipulate that heat.” 

Nodding at Sara’s instructions, Ryoma focused on his back again. The prana spilling from their hands was eating away at Ryoma’s body, and it had only been several minutes. The heat ran through him from the tip of his head down to his feet. 

The sweat pouring from his body made his shirt cling to his skin, and formed several wet spots over the blanket he was sitting on. 

“How do you feel? If it doesn’t seem like you can withstand the heat anymore, say so.” 

The two’s expressions were also contorted in effort and pain. So long as Ryoma couldn’t control his own prana, the Malfist sisters had to continually supply him with their own prana. It was like trying to fill a leaking bucket. And so it was a race against time. Which would come first — would the twins run out of prana to supply him with, or would Ryoma successfully break through the first level...? 

“Yeah... It’s... pretty hot... But I can take more. Keep going.” Ryoma stuttered out a reply. 

The moment he parted his lips, droplets of sweat flowed into his oral cavity. The taste of the salt in his sweat and the raw taste of blood in his mouth made him reflexively contort his face in disgust. 

But he also realized a part of him was enjoying the salty flavor. All that sweat made Ryoma’s body crave water. As well-trained as his body may have been, this was still straining him. But he couldn’t afford to stop this now. Stopping now would mean the sisters would have to start tomorrow’s session by once again forcing prana into his body. 

Gaius... Kael... My body has the prana I stole from them... I should be able to do this... I should be able to get my chakras to move...! 

Ryoma desperately tried to hold the image of all the heat coursing through his body gathering in his abdomen. He tried to force his still-unmoving chakras to move. The very basics of thaumaturgy lay in using your prana to reinforce your own body. 

Sensing one’s own prana and channeling it as martial thaumaturgy opened the way to other forms of thaumaturgy. Be it to have other existences lend him their strength in the shape of verbal thaumaturgy, or to channel it into something and imbue power into an object through endowed thaumaturgy. 

And that was because even the latter two methods of thaumaturgy used his own prana. And so long as he couldn’t control the prana coursing through his own body, he could never hope to channel and control it outside his body. It was for this reason that martial thaumaturgy was considered the basis for all other methods. 

Acquiring martial thaumaturgy required breaking through three barriers. The first was to recognize your own prana and being able to manipulate it. The second was to manipulate one’s prana to open the chakra said to be the root of all bodily functions — the muladhara chakra, or the root chakra. And the third and final barrier was to be able to willingly close the muladhara chakra after he’d opened it. 

Martial thaumaturgy essentially meant opening the chakra within one’s body. If one were to liken the human body to a machine, the chakra could be likened to an engine. A vehicle in operation naturally needed to have its engine active, but once it had finished, it needed to have its engines shut down. Otherwise, the vehicle’s engine would continually consume gasoline. The same held true for thaumaturgy. 

Yeah, the logic behind it is simple enough... But I’m struggling just with the first step... If it’s this bad now, I’m scared to think about what comes next... That thought crossed Ryoma’s mind. 

Activating his chakra made his body exhibit more power than his muscle strength normally allowed, which became exponentially higher depending on the number of active chakras. A total of seven chakras existed in the human body. The idea was developed in ancient India, where it became part of Brahmanism, Hinduism, and went on to be integrated into Buddhism and Yoga. 

But of course, the stark difference between those ideas and thaumaturgy is that mastering the latter would indeed grant one superhuman strength. Ryoma tried to activate the first of those chakras, the muladhara chakra, with the help of the Malfist twins. But things weren’t going as smoothly as he would have liked. Impatience and anxiety tormented Ryoma’s heart. 

But his concerns turned out to be unfounded. Ryoma couldn’t tell how long it took, but the anxiety and fear gradually began to fade away, and his heart became clear. It was like he became capable of hearing something he couldn’t make out before — as if the outlines of something were coming into view. He could feel a certain throbbing. First from his breathing and breath, and eventually emanating from every single cell in his body. 

He could tell — something about his body was changing. 

I can feel something... This isn’t my blood... And it’s not something coming from their hands. There’s something hot circulating through my body, and it isn’t blood... Is this... my prana? 

The moment he realized this, a change took place within Ryoma. Something awakened from the depths of his body, which was stimulated by the Malfist sisters’ prana. An intense throbbing was raging through his body, and Ryoma desperately tried to restrain it. The way it raged felt like a chained beast trying to chew its way through the fetters holding it in place. 

The twins’ hands felt a sensation of resistance — as if Ryoma’s body was trying to fight back against the prana they were pouring into it. As soon as they felt that, the sisters let go of his back. 

“How does it feel?” Sara asked, her voice full of concern. 

“Yeah... I can feel it... It’s like there’s an... animal raging inside me... Ugh!” Ryoma replied cautiously. 

Right now, the muladhara chakra, located in Ryoma’s perineum, was jolted into action by the stimulus of the Malfist sisters’ prana. Ryoma felt as if, if he wouldn’t keep his wits about him, he could very well pounce on the sisters like a bloodthirsty animal. Ryoma’s instincts were spurring him onward. 

An urge to hurt others. To ravage others. To kill others. 

Urge. Instinct. Impulse. 

The lust bubbled up from the bottom of his heart. This beast of desire was normally chained up, bucking and heaving in an attempt to tear the bindings of common sense apart. This was what yoga described as a kundalini awakening. An explosion said to be likened to the awakening and uncoiling of the serpent of creation. 

Calm down, take a deep breath... Like that... Slowly... 

But Ryoma’s body ignored his will, and was activating on its own. His muscles were throbbing and his heartbeat was accelerating. The sensation of his skin became much more acute, and it felt like every cell in his body had gone into overdrive. 

The Malfist sisters nodded at each other wordlessly and left the tent. There was nothing they could do even if they were to stay there. 

 

“So, how’s the boy looking? I just came over to report that we’re done with the little ones.” Lione called out to the twins, who stood guard at Ryoma’s tent, after concluding the training with the children. 

Today’s training was concluded with a simple explanation of thaumaturgy and with the mercenaries pouring a bit of prana into each of the children. Now they were back to their lectures. Lione had concluded her share of the work for that day, but Ryoma — the one to whom she was to report — was still in the midst of his own training. 

“Lione... Master Ryoma is still inside...” The sisters said simply this and shook their heads. 

Seeing this, Lione peeked into the tent and nodded in understanding. 

“He’s taking a while, isn’t he... He’s been going at it since morning, right?” 

It was already three in the afternoon. 

“Yes... Five hours already.” Sara affirmed, to which Lione’s eyes went round with surprise. 

“Since you two are outside, that means his chakra...” 

“Is still open, yes.” Laura nodded, her gaze full of anxiety. 

Lione’s expression stiffened. She was concerned about the same thing. 

“Five hours, huh... The boy did absorb a lot of prana from all the people he killed... I guess it makes sense... That might be dangerous... That’s why I was against it, actually...” 

Laura’s expression contorted at her words. Both Ryoma and the children were going through the same process to learn thaumaturgy, but Ryoma’s starting conditions were radically different. At least in terms of the aggregate amount of prana they’d absorbed, the children had no experience in taking the lives of others and only took in the amount necessary for their bodies to survive. There may have been some individual differences, but most of the children only amounted to that. 

But Ryoma, by contrast, was far too different in that regard. He slew both Gaius Valkland and Kael Iruna, men capable of thaumaturgy, as well as countless monsters. As a result, the sheer amount of prana residing in Ryoma’s body was nearly double the ordinary amount. 

Normally, having more prana would be a good thing, but when it came to mastering martial thaumaturgy it actually became a disadvantage. It made it harder to control one’s chakra. 

It was as if Ryoma went to learn how to drive, but his training car was modified to have a race car’s performance. It was the same car and the driving method didn’t differ much, but trying to drive it couldn’t be compared to a training car. 

This was of course all impossible. No beginner starts with a task only an advanced student could tackle, and no teacher would approve of letting their student do that. Much the same as how, regardless of what world you’re in, no one would leave a vehicle costing a fortune in the hands of an amateur. 

But when it came to mastering thaumaturgy, there was the small probability of this happening. An apprentice with no control over their chakra might be forced to conquer the large amount of prana residing in their body. 

The common sense of this Earth was to wait for the chakra to begin operating normally. That was how most mercenaries from a commoner’s background learned thaumaturgy. But Lione and the others warned Ryoma ahead of time that this might happen, and Ryoma chose to ignore those warnings and forcibly learn thaumaturgy. 

He wasn’t overconfident in his talent, and it wasn’t that he didn’t believe in Lione’s words. But he was pressed for time. He couldn’t tell if his chakra would naturally open by the time they were to head for the Wortenia peninsula. 

“I guess there’s no point saying that now, though... You two should rest, too. You had to use a lot of prana to open his chakra, right? I’ll keep an eye on the boy, so get something to eat.” Lione said out of consideration for their health, directing a kind gaze at the twins. 

“We appreciate your consideration, but... you must be tired too, Lione.” Laura said. 

“Laura is right. You had to pour your prana into a few of the kids, right?” 

Lione broke out in laughter at the sisters’ suggestion. 

“You little idiots. Seriously... Sharing prana into even ten or twenty kids ain’t gonna change much for me. And we only gave them a little taste today. Unlike the boy here, it doesn’t take much to fill their bodies with prana.” 

Lione truly wasn’t very fatigued. She had roughly the same capacity as either of the twins, too. This only meant Ryoma’s prana was that much larger than the children’s. 

“It’s fine! You two res—” 

Just as Lione was about to implore the Malfist twins to rest again, the sound of something toppling over rang out from inside the tent. The three of them went pale at once and hurried into the tent. 

““Master Ryoma!”” 

“Boy!” 

Lione picked Ryoma up, who was lying face down on the ground, and placed a hand against his mouth to check that he was still breathing. 

“It’s fine. He’s only out cold. I swear, I told him this was reckless... Laura, prepare a place for him to lie down. Sara, go fetch him some water!” 

Ryoma’s pulse seemed to be in order, too. It seemed they escaped the worst possible scenario. Concluding he passed out from symptoms of light dehydration and fatigue, Lione swiftly gave the sisters instructions. 

““Understood! At once!”” 

Despite being quite tired, the sisters swiftly followed Lione’s instructions. 

“Dammit, boy... I told you not to do this...” Lione whispered, smiling bitterly after concluding his life wasn’t at risk. 

Lione knew very well that they had little time to waste, but even if Ryoma alone couldn’t use thaumaturgy, everyone around him could have covered for him anyway. That was all the more crucial because he was the head of House Mikoshiba — in chess terms, he was the king. And the king isn’t meant to fight on the frontlines. Ryoma honestly had no real reason to insist on learning thaumaturgy. 

But despite her sarcastic tone, Lione was actually happy, on the inside. Despite being the head of the house, Ryoma insisted on acquiring thaumaturgy. It was proof he wanted to live while staying on the same level as his comrades. A show of his readiness to dirty his own hands with blood. 

She only knew Ryoma for so long, but she understood his personality well enough. And still, seeing Ryoma lying unconscious gave her newfound appreciation of the young man’s resolve. 

Boy... I’m glad I gambled on you... If it’s you... You might be able to change our fate... 

The fate of a mercenary was clear to see. They would either be betrayed by an employer, or lose their lives on a battlefield. And if neither happened, they would accumulate enough injuries to eventually die. 

Whichever end they met, their future was bound to be bleak. There was not a single mercenary that washed their hands of this bloody business’s karma and spent their golden years in peace. Only the luckiest of mercenaries were fortunate enough to have their exploits immortalized by the minstrels. 

And this was why mercenaries never feared death. A man who feared death wasn’t fit for the business. But the one thing they hated more than anything was the idea of dying a meaningless, forgotten death. If death was unavoidable, then they chose to die for a purpose. 

And at that moment, Lione once again confirmed that she had found a purpose to live, fight and die for. 

If it’s you... If it’s for your sake... 

She wrapped her hands around Ryoma’s limp body and gently brushed her fingers through his hair. Like a mother cradling a beloved child. 



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