Chapter 32

Preparation (1)

Once again today, the soldiers of the military camp began their dawn with physical training.

It had already been half a month since the training routine was enforced, so the soldiers had mostly adapted by now.

However, the formation kept breaking apart more than usual today.

“One! One! One! Form up! Get in line!”

No matter how loudly Carlson shouted, it was useless.

The reason was Isaac.

The soldiers instinctively drifted away from Isaac to protect their lives.

It looked ridiculous—grown soldiers afraid of a twelve-year-old boy—but no one pointed it out.

Pride was not more important than life.

When what happened in the Baitur tribe village was reported through Günter’s mouth, no one believed it at first.

They thought Günter was exaggerating.

But after one soldier after another went to verify with Bessemer, the entire camp was thrown into chaos.

The soldiers pieced together every rumor they had heard, and the story became distorted and exaggerated.

Now, among the soldiers, Isaac was being called the “Frost Demon.”

“Lord. Please run a bit farther away from the formation.”

“Alright.”

Isaac stepped away from the formation by about twenty paces with a dry voice.

“Huff… huff… Young master… you’re here… kgh…”

“Are you alright?”

Hans was, as always, far behind the running formation.

Half a month should have been enough to build some stamina—but Hans was still struggling.

“I’m… huff… fine… right? Who… do you think… I am… ugh—”

Hans once again vomited sour fluid.

“You’re going to die like that.”

“I’m… fine… urgh…”

“Why don’t you just go back to the manor already?”

“Absolutely not. I will not go back. Ever.”

Despite Isaac’s cold tone, Hans remained firm in his resolve.

Only when the sun fully rose did the first training session end.

“Rest for one hour. Then combat training. Dismissed!”

Carlson shouted loudly.

Despite running alongside the soldiers, he showed no signs of fatigue.

The soldiers shook their heads, cursed, and dispersed toward their barracks.

They needed even that one hour of rest just to survive the next session.

Complaints were not permitted.

Those who disobeyed were beaten and confined to iron cages.

“Will you be training with us again today?”

“Yes.”

“Isn’t that too much?”

“It’s necessary. Why? Do you hate it when I join because it ruins the training?”

“That too. But honestly, the training becomes too intense for you. Didn’t you injure your wrist yesterday?”

“Are you worried about me right now?”

“I’m worried about myself. If you’re not in good condition, you can’t help me at the right time.”

“I’m trying to be in good condition right now. I’ll rest in the barracks. Go call Bessemer.”

“He won’t come. You killed too many of his tribesmen. He’s barely holding back his killing intent. Do you really think he wants to see you?”

“Tell him I’ll tell him how to kill the Wolf King. He’ll come. That’s an order from the commander. Military orders must be followed.”

Isaac tapped Carlson’s arm a few times and walked toward the barracks.

“Wash yourself! You smell worse than Bessemer!”

Carlson shouted after him, but Isaac simply waved his hand.

“Ugh.”

As soon as Isaac returned to the barracks, he collapsed onto his blanket.

His clothes, soaked in sweat and repeatedly dried, gave off a sour stench.

“This is lasting longer than expected. I should’ve broken it more moderately.”

When Isaac was surrounded by the Baitur tribesmen and the hellhounds, he had become curious.

If he pushed his “vessel” to its absolute limit without breaking it—how much power could it handle?

But he pushed too far.

As a result, the vessel needed time to recover.

Because of that, mana kept leaking through cracks in the vessel, and the “Mage’s Depression” was delayed in recovery.

Although he had fainted and couldn’t verify it himself, Hans and Günter’s testimony was enough.

A frost hell descended across the entire Baitur village.

More than thirty tribesmen were frozen by Bessemer’s follow-up attack, and about fifteen hellhounds were also caught.

Nearly fifty beings froze to death instantly.

Because of that, Isaac had been unable to use magic for nearly ten days, enduring the “Mage’s Depression” while participating in soldier training.

Moving his body at least helped him feel grounded in reality.

But the depression did not easily fade.

Helplessness. Emptiness. Hollow detachment.

He felt no weight, no guilt—even after killing dozens.

Niers. Bishop Levonius.

Was there any difference between them and himself?

Were they not all monsters?

Such meaningless thoughts tormented him day and night.

More than anything, the whisper of fate—that he would continue witnessing such deaths—unsettled his mind.

It felt like something human inside him was slowly wearing away.

“Damn it.”

Isaac shook his head and stood up.

He drew his sword from its scabbard and began sharpening it.

The simple repetitive task helped clear his thoughts.

Srrng… srrng…

Sharpening the blade.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The noise in his head quieted.

He felt the flow of mana resonating within the vessel with each breath.

“It’s still there.”

Frost mana still flowed through his mana circuits.

The frost rune stone had already shattered during the mana explosion.

And yet, the concentration of frost mana inside Isaac’s vessel had not changed at all.

It was strange.

Was his vessel generating frost mana on its own?

A hypothesis formed.

Perhaps the “mana rampage” unique constitution could imprint the properties of future rare mana stones into the vessel itself.

If that were possible, Isaac could absorb rare mana stones and drastically shorten the process of mastering new magic.

“If only this depression would go away.”

Mage’s Depression was a defense mechanism.

When a mage became mentally unstable, using magic recklessly would cause their mind to collapse.

To prevent this, the body induced depression as a safety system.

A survival warning from the mage’s instincts.

So until it ended, all he could do was endure.

“Did you call for me?”

Bessemer’s voice came from outside.

‘That guy’s depressed too.’

Unlike his first impression—laughing wildly while slaughtering hellhounds—his voice was low and heavy.

“Yeah, come in.”

Isaac continued sharpening the blade without stopping.

“Your blade-sharpening skill is quite good.”

“I’ve gotten used to it here.”

“I heard you have a way to kill the Wolf King.”

“I do.”

“Tell me.”

“Before that, sit down. You’re making me uncomfortable.”

The barrack ceiling was too low for Bessemer’s massive height, so he stood slightly hunched.

“Forget it. It’s not a long story.”

“It is. Sit.”

“….”

Bessemer reluctantly sat on the ground.

“Make it short. My patience for you isn’t very large.”

“We’re going to lure the Wolf King into the camp.”

“How are you going to lure it?”

“You’re the bait.”

“…?”

“You know how to act?”

* * *

“Your arm is open.”

“Agh!”

“Your head is open.”

“Ah!”

Isaac’s wooden sword struck repeatedly, and Hans could only scream.

If he blocked one side, the other was hit.

If he blocked that side, another strike came.

Hans was, once again, nothing more than a punching bag.

“Go easy on him, young master. Hans is the only sparring partner you have.”

During combat training, no one wanted to spar with Isaac.

So for ten days straight, Hans was his only opponent.

After training hours, Carlson would sometimes spar with Isaac, but during official training, he was busy supervising others.

“Learning comes from being hit. Get up, Hans.”

“Yes… young master…”

The gap between Isaac and Hans was overwhelming.

Even though Isaac was only twelve, his swordsmanship—taught by Lucas in the underground for nearly ten years—had not disappeared.

Hans had better strength and physique, but he could not overcome the skill gap.

“Ah!”

“Ah!”

“Ugh!”

The entire training session was filled with Hans’s screams.

“Is Bessemer going to do it?”

Carlson asked after training ended.

“He’s considering it. He will.”

“That’s basically tricking him into killing his own father.”

“Exactly. This is the chance to end his curse.”

Based on the fragments of Binfelt’s history and Bessemer’s testimony, Isaac and Carlson had pieced together the past.

Thirteen years ago, the Baitur tribe had played a central role.

At that time, House Goethe focused on defending the border from tribal invasions.

Then the previous Count of Goethe died from illness and sepsis.

A crisis struck Goethe, but the tribes were also in turmoil.

Exhausted from long war, many tribes sought peace.

Leading them was the Granak tribe, the largest and strongest.

After the Count’s death, the Granak chief also fell mortally wounded fighting magical beasts.

To save his tribe, he proposed marriage between his daughter and the new Count of Goethe.

The new Count accepted, and many tribes formed peace with Goethe.

But the more aggressive tribes rejected peace.

Among them, the Baitur tribe most fiercely opposed it.

They believed Goethe’s bloodshed could not be forgiven.

Outnumbered and cornered, they resorted to forbidden beast transformation magic.

Warriors turned into wolves.

Stronger warriors became stronger beasts.

For a time, they won many battles.

But forbidden magic always has a price.

They could never return to human form.

And gradually, they became monsters.

Only the Baitur chief retained his sanity.

The Silver Wolf.

The Wolf King.

The only one who could control the hellhounds.

If he disappeared, the hellhounds would become ordinary beasts.

“Are you sure the Wolf King will cooperate?”

“According to Bessemer, he spared him many times despite having the chance to kill him. If he still recognizes his son, he will act as expected.”

“It might work. But many soldiers will die.”

“…Minimize those casualties. That’s your role. It’s better than being wiped out by hellhounds.”

Bessemer had already tried for over ten years.

He failed every time.

They could not afford to wait either.

The number of hellhounds would keep increasing.

Isaac wiped sweat from his chin and looked at the sky.

The weather had been gloomy since yesterday.

But what must happen would happen.

And what must be done… must be done.

“Only Bessemer’s decision remains.”

“Seems so.”

At that moment, a massive figure approached.

An axe in one hand.

Its black blade and amber gem looked priceless.

The sheer pressure caused soldiers to step back.

Even Carlson instinctively moved to protect Isaac.

The giant stopped in front of Isaac.

“I’ll do it.”

Bessemer said.