Chapter 40
When Flowers Bloom
— “At the time… there was no other choice.”
In a previous life—no, a life already fading into memory—
Jonas spoke to Isaac through the heavy door of an underground vault.
— “If we didn’t want to be dragged around by the power struggles of others, Goethe had to become a self-sufficient city-state.”
Even with a blade lodged in his abdomen, Jonas’s voice still burned with conviction.
— “A noble’s power ultimately comes from land. Fertile land—and what grows from it.”
The very foundation of aristocratic power.
Land that could become strength.
And now… that land lay before Isaac’s eyes.
A territory that made up a quarter of the domain, blessed with rich black soil—
yet bordering the Black Forest, where constant battles with hellhounds turned it into a wasteland.
Contaminated by the blood of magical beasts, nothing could grow there.
The greatest scholars Count Goethe had gathered had all failed to solve the problem.
And yet, in the end, the solution came from an unexpected person.
Lady Adele—Isaac’s mother.
To monitor her son’s unusual constitution, she had brought back a blue flower from the demon realm.
A flower that fed on mana.
That very flower had purified the land of Binfelt.
“…This is insane.”
“Fuck… did I drink too much yesterday? Am I still hungover?”
The soldiers, still groggy, couldn’t tell whether they were dreaming.
Only three days had passed since the fertilizer was spread.
Yet before them, the camp’s surroundings had transformed into something almost unreal.
Under the faint light of dawn, dew-covered green grass shimmered—
and everywhere, sprouts had emerged.
“What the hell are you all doing? Form ranks—”
Even Carlson, rubbing his stiff neck, fell silent mid-sentence.
It was absurd.
Binfelt, once nothing but barren wasteland, was now bursting with life.
But what made it even more absurd—
was the massive man dancing wildly in the middle of it all.
Singing loudly in a tribal language no one but his own kind could understand,
Bessemer stomped and spun like a lunatic.
“Men.”
At Carlson’s voice, the soldiers snapped to attention.
“Did your captain start drinking the moment he woke up?”
They shook their heads.
“Then has that walking pile of muscles finally lost his mind?”
This time, they nodded quietly.
“Look! It works! I told you it works!”
Another madman joined in.
Hans.
His eye was still bruised from a fight two days ago, yet he grinned ear to ear as he danced alongside Bessemer.
“It sprouted! It actually sprouted, you bastards!”
“I told you—it all works if the young master says it will!”
Their chaotic, ridiculous dancing continued.
“Men. Get those idiots out of here. They’re an eyesore and they’re delaying training.”
Carlson frowned.
Thanks to the duo’s antics, the morning drills were already behind schedule.
Bang!
“What do you mean we’re tearing it all up?! It just sprouted!”
“You’ll break the desk. Yawn…”
Isaac scratched his messy hair and let out a wide yawn.
He still carried the air of a noble, but he looked filthy—and smelled it too.
He hadn’t properly bathed in over a month.
Water brought in daily was reserved for drinking and cooking. Using it for anything else was a luxury.
On top of that, he hadn’t been sleeping—
obsessed with studying the mana stone of the Wolf King.
Just like the frost mana stone he had obtained from the Winter Queen Spider had proven useful,
he was certain this one held value.
But so far—
it revealed nothing.
Warm to the touch, yet silent.
“What are you talking about? It sprouted just like you said. That proves something can grow here, doesn’t it? Then why destroy it?”
“That’s not just grass.”
“…?”
“They’re flowers from the demon realm.”
“…What?”
“They grow by feeding on mana in the soil.”
The fertilizer Schiller had brought wasn’t ordinary.
It contained seeds—
from plants of the demon realm.
“They’ll grow, bloom, and absorb all the mana in the soil. Once they’re done… we’ll turn them into green manure.”
“…Green manure?”
“Once they finish growing, they’re no different from normal plants. Plow them under, let them rot—they’ll become nutrients for the soil.”
“…When did you even think of this?”
Bessemer blinked in disbelief.
Isaac shrugged.
“Then why hasn’t anyone tried this before? The tribes—or Goethe?”
“The Wolf King. Hellhounds. Virphir. Rituals. And the belief that nothing can grow in Binfelt.”
“…!”
“That’s why.”
Even when Adele had proposed purifying Binfelt with the blue flowers, she had faced fierce opposition.
They lacked manpower—how could they waste it fighting monsters?
The Wolf King, hellhounds, other beasts.
Rumors of people turning into wolves.
Skepticism.
Ridicule.
If Adele hadn’t risked her life, the attempt would never have happened.
Because of her, Goethe survived.
And because of that—
she was injured, weakened…
and ultimately succumbed to illness.
Priests praised her as a saint, a martyr, a servant of God.
But Count Goethe never welcomed those praises.
Because that act had saved the family—
at the cost of her life.
“When should we plow, then?”
“…Let’s wait. They’re not fully grown yet.”
Isaac brushed away the memory.
He would never allow such tragedy again.
May your long night someday end.
May you find peace.
Her final letter—
he would ensure it would never need to be written again.
“…I miss you, Mother.”
The words slipped out.
“Guess a kid’s still a kid.”
“Well… you miss your father too.”
“…Yeah.”
Bessemer scratched his bald head, looking unusually downcast.
“He’s watching from Balaka. Let’s do our best.”
Isaac stood and patted his arm.
“You don’t need to tell me that. Just say the word—I’ll rip out every tree in the Black Forest if needed.”
Flames flickered in Bessemer’s eyes.
“Relax. That won’t be necessary.”
Three days later—
just as Isaac predicted—
the flowers bloomed.
Only then did the soldiers realize these weren’t ordinary plants.
The grass grew waist-high, and blue flowers spread across the land.
The camp, once lifeless, now pulsed with strange vitality.
To the soldiers, it felt like a miracle.
To Isaac—
it was only the beginning.
“Bessemer. Plow it.”
“As you command.”
Training was suspended.
All soldiers were put to work.
“Haah!”
Crack—crack—crack—
Bessemer swung two axes, tearing into the earth.
But beneath the surface—
the ground was still frozen solid.
Tools dulled quickly.
Progress was slow.
Even the soldiers, despite the hope blooming in their hearts, struggled.
Until—
“Give it here.”
Carlson took a shovel.
“What? But—”
“Watch.”
He dug.
Effortlessly.
The frozen ground yielded.
The soldiers stared in shock.
“…He’s a monster.”
“How the hell is he doing that?”
But even Carlson, after an hour, threw the shovel aside.
“Not worth it.”
Even for him—
this was too much.
Inside the tent—
“Schiller?”
“No news yet. And like I said—don’t expect much.”
Livestock was unlikely.
Cold climate, royal restrictions—it was a dead end.
Isaac sighed and set the Wolf King’s mana stone on the table.
“So we’re stuck…”
“My lord, may I enter?”
A voice came from outside.
Günter stepped in after permission.
“You should come outside.”
“What is it?”
“People from the tribal villages… about thirty of them.”
Isaac and Carlson exchanged looks.
Something—
was about to change.
