Chapter 849

Chapter 849

The trouble began during the reconstruction of the fortifications. Torrential rains fell without mercy, and the lower districts were swallowed by the rising tide. At this speed, the residents were on the verge of being swept away. To make matters worse, such weather always lured out the monsters known as the Drowned, who began to prowl the city’s perimeter.

There was an overwhelming amount of work to do. The castellan possessed a deep desire to rescue anyone in peril, regardless of their social standing in the slums, but reality rarely aligns with the yearnings of the heart. Even if one managed to pull the victims from the deluge, where would they be sheltered? How could they be fed?

A heavy, unsettling atmosphere settled over the city alongside the floodwaters. Desperation turned into volatile anxiety. Whispers began to circulate among the impoverished crowds: “If death is inevitable, we might as well turn to banditry.” Some of the locals even began to sharpen their blades.

“Grant me ten soldiers and the power to oversee the wall repairs for a single day.”

That was the moment Edin Molsen appeared. He stood with sodden blond hair, a fresh laceration on his cheek still weeping a faint trail of crimson.

“On what grounds should I place such trust in you?” the castellan questioned. He was a man of great empathy and constant concern, but he was no simpleton. He couldn’t blindly follow the suggestions of a stranger who looked like an impulsive youth.

“The loss of ten men won’t cause the city to fall this very second, will it? I require only twenty hands and twenty feet ready to obey my commands. You only have to risk being wrong for twenty-four hours.”

Edin spoke with an eerie lack of emotion, his voice steady and pragmatic.

“If I have lied to you, my life is yours to take afterward. There is a child I love more than my own existence. I will leave her here as collateral.”

He left a beautiful young woman within the inner walls, identifying her as his younger sister. The castellan didn’t catch it at the time, but Edin had strategically placed her in the most secure location in a city on the brink of civil unrest. He was playing a very clever game.

“Very well.”

The castellan was backed into a corner. Cross Guard was physically closer to the Border Guard than to the capital of Azpen, and it relied more heavily on the former’s support than on its own sovereign nation. Furthermore, political entanglements made it nearly impossible to secure help from the throne.

‘If things continue as they are…’

The entire infrastructure of Cross Guard would be pulverized. The castellan was desperate for urban specialists and manual labor—and lots of it. If he paused the work for a day, would it prevent a riot? Highly unlikely. But he had no other cards to play. He gave a sharp nod.

“Proceed as you see fit.”

Edin immediately handpicked ten guards. He specifically chose men who had families and children living within the city limits. He possessed an innate sense for selecting the right tools for the job.

According to the reports the castellan received later, Edin plunged directly into the heart of the brewing insurrection. In the midst of the chaos, he engaged in a rapid dialogue of logic with anyone still capable of listening. Meanwhile, the water levels continued to climb, reaching people’s shins.

Accompanied by his ten soldiers, he used lethal force to execute five individuals in full view of the slum-dwellers. These were members of the local criminal guilds, the instigators meant to lead the uprising. Even so, the tension didn’t immediately break. The rain continued its assault; if they stayed put, they would surely perish.

Through sheer persuasion, Edin convinced a portion of the crowd to help him demolish a segment of the city wall that was currently under repair.

“You’re out of your mind! The castellan will execute every one of us for this,” shouted a man who acted as the slum’s informal leader—the same man who had tried to prevent the riot and ultimately helped tear down the wall.

“If there’s a price to pay, I’ll be the one to pay it. I am the foreman of this project today.”

By intentionally breaching the wall, Edin led the people in carving out a massive watercourse. It took a full day of labor, but the flood finally began to recede.

Inevitably, the Drowned began to filter through the new opening in the fortifications. A gap now existed where there should have been a barrier against monsters. Despite having worked without a moment’s rest, Edin drew his blade.

“Everyone capable of swinging a weapon, move to the front! Will you send for reinforcements from Lord Del?”

“I will.”

They had spent a day gambling with their lives. Soldier Del put his faith in Edin and moved out. Some men prove their worth by shielding others with a sword; others use rhetoric to lead and then validate their words through action. Edin earned his trust by bleeding and sweating alongside the soldiers.

In hindsight, the physical feat wasn’t world-shaking. The Drowned were a lesser threat than the rising water. While Cross Guard lacked architects, it had plenty of martial strength. Draining the city by breaking a wall was a simple concept, and the military was more than capable of holding a single breach.

Of course, that is easy to summarize after the fact; coordinating such a feat in a crisis and swaying a mob was a monumental task. Edin achieved it.

Once the fighting at the front ended, Edin returned to the castellan.

“The damage to the wall is my fault. If a sacrifice is required, take my head.”

Looking at Edin’s feet, which were pale and swollen from being submerged for hours, the castellan could not bring himself to execute him.

From then on, Edin remained as an advisor. He suggested that dismantling the criminal guilds should only happen after the slums were revitalized, and he facilitated the arrival of the Temple of Plenty. He secured aid from the Border Guard and established trade routes with the Lockfried Caravan and the various merchant cities. Every prosperity the city saw was by his design.

When forced to walk a tightrope over an abyss, Edin walked it. He executed strategies the castellan would never have dared to imagine.

“The crown’s refusal to help is no excuse to let your citizens starve within their own walls, is it?”

He was correct. Even knowing that these radical actions would eventually become political ammunition that might cost him everything, the castellan never dismissed Edin. He couldn’t afford to. In exchange for that risk, he secured a future for his people. He had no regrets.

—

Enkrid posed his question and waited for the response. Analyzing the history of the city, the truth was obvious. This wasn’t the work of the castellan alone. Considering the high regard he held for Edin, the pieces fell into place.

The castellan closed his eyes for a moment before looking up. He had anticipated this reckoning. Yet, he felt no remorse. Without Edin Molsen, the city’s death toll would have been catastrophic.

“I gave the orders. Edin Molsen was acting as my official subordinate.”

It was a display of loyalty—or perhaps the repayment of a debt. The castellan viewed everyone within his walls as kin. Whether commoner or aristocrat, he believed every life was sacred, a conviction rooted in the tenets of the temple.

As Enkrid stared silently at the castellan, the two bodyguards stood frozen in the stifling tension.

‘You gave sanctuary to the son of a traitor?’ In reality, very few people outside of the castellan’s inner circle knew Edin’s true identity.

*Knock, knock.*

The silence was punctured by a sharp rap at the door. The receiving room door creaked open immediately.

“Excuse the interruption.”

It was Edin Molsen. The son of the rebel. He had cleaned himself up and entered wearing tidy clothing. He seemed to have already deduced what was happening in the room.

The castellan was perhaps too gentle to be a true sovereign. He lacked the ruthlessness required to climb over the bodies of others, and he was incapable of betraying those who trusted him. It was that very quality that kept his two mercenaries standing firm behind him, teeth clenched, even when the word “rebel” was hanging in the air. They were staying true to the man.

“Your indulgence.”

Edin spoke, ready to pour out the meaning behind those words. He wanted to plead for his sister’s safety and testify to the castellan’s noble character. If the Enkrid he once knew remained the same, he would at least grant that much mercy.

However, if Edin had miscalculated anything, it was that Enkrid’s particular brand of instability was far beyond what a normal person could comprehend.

“Pass.”

Enkrid spoke the single word. Edin stopped mid-sentence, confused.

‘Pass what?’

Kraiss had once remarked that when it came to deciphering intentions and reading the underlying design of a person’s heart, Enkrid was superior even to him. It was a fact. In specific moments, Enkrid’s intuition was unparalleled. Right now, he was looking right through Edin. He didn’t even need the assistance of the Dragonkin.

“What have you been doing with yourself all these years?” Enkrid inquired.

Edin furrowed his brow. “I worked the iron mines in the Demp Mountains and wandered from place to place. I spent some time near the Eastern regions as well.”

Enkrid nodded. Edin was a problem-solver. He was a fixer with incredible administrative talent and the physical willpower to see it through. Could such a man ever fail to find a home?

Then why was he here? Why was the rebel’s son hiding in this corner of the world?

“Join the Border Guard. I will ensure there is a position for you.”

“……What are you talking about?”

Edin Molsen was a man defined by hardship. Under his father’s shadow, he had fought like a man possessed to keep himself and his sister alive. It was only after escaping that he found his true calling. He wanted to use his skills, and he was instinctively drawn to places that were broken.

Cross Guard was a small stage. He had already fixed half the city’s issues. He was still hungry for more. He ran every morning and evening to burn off the restless energy, ensuring that when a real opportunity finally appeared, he would be sharp enough to seize it.

“Go and work there,” Enkrid repeated.

Simply put, there was nothing left for Edin to fix in Cross Guard. The city was stable. Aside from his daily runs, he was idle. This wasn’t the arena where his talents could truly flourish. That was the hidden meaning in Enkrid’s invitation.

Edin’s expression shifted rapidly. Shinar, usually indifferent, showed a flicker of curiosity. Enkrid’s actions always carried weight, but this was an unusual move. Despite being a fairy, she understood human nature. That man was a traitor’s kin; the crown would never approve of him.

The Frokk puffed out her cheeks. Lua Gharne also had a basic understanding of the political risks involved. Her time guarding the queen had taught her that much. Nevertheless, neither of them intervened. If Enkrid had made a choice, they would observe. As always, his Will was an immovable force.

“Good,” the Dragonkin whispered. The density of Will in Enkrid’s voice was becoming more concentrated than ever before.

“Grant me one day,” Edin requested. “I will stay the night and then depart.”

Keeping his eyes on Edin, Enkrid agreed.

The castellan didn’t fully grasp the nuances of the exchange, but he understood the conclusion. “As you wish,” he said.

Enkrid was provided with the finest accommodations and granted use of the castellan’s personal training grounds. Edin was a man driven to prove his worth. In that regard, he shared the spirit of the late Count Dehan Molsen.

‘But he understands the righteous path.’

Enkrid didn’t even unsheathe his sword; he simply sat in deep contemplation. It was ironic—everything eventually traced back to the way of the blade.

‘Condensation.’

It was about the wait. If he integrated the concept of condensation into the way he used Will for his Point Explosion? You compress the power and then let it erupt. It was about waiting for the perfect moment.

‘And what if I am the one who creates that moment?’

Edin had done exactly that while managing Cross Guard.

‘Wait with a calculating edge.’

Then deliver a blow with a compressed, lightning-fast strike. It was a fundamental movement. If he could weave this into his personal style, Flash, it would be complete.

He was lost in these martial thoughts when he returned to his quarters. Two women were waiting for him at his door. One had vibrant golden-blond hair and green eyes; the other had a more muted shade of blond.

“I had to intercept her before she strolled into a stranger’s bedroom,” Shinar remarked.

“She was already in there when I arrived,” the other woman replied calmly. It seemed Shinar had been waiting inside while he was out. It wasn’t worth an argument.

“I don’t know your name, but I recognize who you are,” Enkrid said as he approached. The woman was short, her head barely reaching his chest. She looked up and met his gaze directly. The son wasn’t the only one who resembled the father.

“Please, take Edin with you.”

She was the daughter of Count Molsen. The sister Edin had spent his life protecting. They had crossed paths once before, back when she was disguised as a man.

She stood there and recounted the years they had spent in hiding—laboring in the Demp mines, being hunted, and Edin nearly losing his life while trying to help others. Edin hadn’t just been wandering; he had been observing the world.

He had seen the Kingdom of Naurillia and the capital of Azpen; the merchant states that dominated trade; the tiny realm in the far West protected by a lone knight; all the way to the Empire in the East and the southern borders.

Enkrid stood and listened. It was a compelling history. It confirmed his intuition: Edin was a man starving for a chance to use his potential.

“Talent is the rarest commodity. I’m desperate for it myself right now.”

It was a sentiment Kraiss often voiced. He used to joke that if he had just two more subordinates with minds like his own, the entire continent would be his. If he brought Edin into the fold, would they conquer half of it? Enkrid began to formulate what he would say to Kraiss upon his return.

“Edin shouldn’t be held back because of me. If necessary, I will answer for my father’s crimes and accept death in his place.”

The girl was sharp. She was offering to return as the rebel’s daughter and face the king’s justice so that Edin could be free. They were a fascinating pair of siblings. It also suggested that Edin’s successes weren’t his alone.

Enkrid amended his mental note to Kraiss. ‘You weren’t planning to win the world by opening a social club, were you?’ Right. He would tell him they wouldn’t stop at half—they would take it all.

The following morning, Edin arrived.

“Have you forgotten whose blood I carry?” he asked abruptly.

“No,” Enkrid replied.

Once again, the three non-humans watched the interaction with fascination.

“It will create complications,” Edin noted. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he looked haggard, as if sleep had eluded him. Enkrid nodded. Any rational person would agree. But Enkrid had the solution.

“Kraiss will deal with it.”

Kraiss was a man who did as he pleased and left the mess for others to clean. Enkrid had seen this at the Gilpin Guild, and again with the Salamander when Shinar’s condition was uncertain. This was no different. Enkrid liked this man. More than that—he liked both of them.

“It’s time for you to meet a man who dreams of ruling the continent.”

As Enkrid spoke, Edin stared into his blue eyes for a long moment. He chose to ignore the bizarre comment about global conquest and stated firmly:

“I am the son of a rebel.”

“I think that’s a better title than ‘heartbreaker’ at any rate,” Enkrid joked. And with that, the Molsen siblings became part of the group.

—

“Wait, he’s still not here?”

The messenger asked after a full day of waiting. He had been well-fed and rested, but Sir Enkrid had yet to appear.

“……Yeah, well. He’ll show up. He isn’t Ragna, so it’s not like he’s lost, right?”

Kraiss didn’t have much of an answer. He had sent the man for a simple half-day inspection—what on earth could he be doing?