Ancient Imperial Calendar Year 1813
"HOLD THE LINES"
The beasts of Kerbel Forest charged at Ricardo and his army like a raging bull.
Ricardo fought on the front lines, swinging his aura-covered sword left and right. With each swing, his aura took shape, slaughtering dozens of monsters in a single blow.
The Kislavei Warriors locked their shields together without leaving any gaps, forming an impenetrable aura barrier.
Mages behind the line cast powerful spells to support the defense.
Enormous fireballs, sky-splitting lightning bolts, blood-freezing ice magic, and earth-shattering stone and soil spikes that pierced through monster bodies were just some of the countless spells cast that day.
Though Ricardo's swings had claimed many lives, his aura was diminishing for the first time. It was the first day in the second zone, and they had already faced a massive monster surge.
Ricardo wrapped his remaining mana around his body to strengthen his aura armor. Then he began gathering mana into his hands, preparing for a mana burst. Though it would consume a large portion of his energy, it could destroy thousands of monsters in one attack.
Just as he brought his hands together, Heinricht Fraus intervened.
"Heir to the Dynasty, stop. Don't waste your mana here. We are just at the beginning of the journey. Much worse situations may await us."
Ricardo was on the verge of exploding from stress, but responded calmly:
"Then what do you suggest, Heinricht? Everyone is getting tired. At this rate, we're bound to take losses."
Heinricht replied with a resolute face:
"Losses are inevitable, Heir. Everyone here has accepted death. But we still have the strength to fight. Trust in your comrades, Heir."
Ricardo hesitated. His mind was racing.
"I do trust my soldiers, Heinricht, but I can't get my father's words out of my head:
'If the losses exceed a hundred, know that you will face the harshest punishment.'
I can't forget his words or his overwhelming power.
Kerbel Forest is the first step toward reaching my father's power.
That's why I want to push my limits...
Still, Heinricht makes sense... Calm down, Ricardo. Calm down."
Ricardo ended the internal conflict. The mana he had gathered in his hands was redirected back into his body.
"Very well, Heinricht. I'll trust you. Just don't die."
Heinricht responded with a wide smile:
"Trust us, Heir. You won't be disappointed."
Heinricht returned to the lines. The soldiers, seeing their commander place his trust in them, fought with renewed determination and vigor.
As the hours passed, the number of attacking monsters dwindled, but the Kislavein Lines held strong. Weary soldiers moved to the back while fresh ones took their place—a time-tested tactic that worked well against mindless beasts.
When the last of the monsters fell beneath the blades of the Kislavein Warriors, a great cheer of victory rose.
"I thought it would never end," said Jonas, gasping for breath.
"Me too… but something feels off," said Jacop with a curious tone.
Jonas didn't understand. He asked with a confused look:
"What do you mean, Jacop? Speak clearly."
Jacop answered, slightly anxious:
"Look, we're only in the second region, yet we've already encountered a monster surge. None of the veterans from past waves warned us of this. Even the Heir seemed surprised."
Jacop's words unsettled those around him, including Jonas.
"You're right, Jacop. Something is strange," said Marco.
"Normally, surges occur if conquest isn't completed in time, and the monster population overflows beyond the forest. But we should still have time," added Osiris.
As concern and panic spread among the army, Ricardo took action to regain control.
"Calm down. Though rare, early surges do happen. There are historical records. Looks like we were just unlucky."
But among the army—composed entirely of 18-year-old heirs of the Western Dynasties—the fact that they had encountered a monster surge caused deep concern.
Noticing his soldiers' fear, Ricardo grew angry.
"GET A HOLD OF YOURSELVES!
WE ARE THE HEIRS OF THE WESTERN LANDS!
WE DO NOT KNOW FEAR!
IF YOU FEAR MONSTER SURGES TODAY,
HOW WILL YOU FIGHT THE WORLD TOMORROW?
PULL YOURSELVES TOGETHER!"
Ricardo's furious outburst wiped out the fear in his soldiers' hearts. Every man and woman in the army knelt and bowed their heads.
"UNDERSTOOD, HEIR!"
Ricardo had achieved his goal: he had reignited their courage.
"REST FOR TODAY. TOMORROW, WE MARCH ON."
The soldiers joyfully cheered at the order.
"UNDERSTOOD!"
The army set up camp and began to rest, renewing their aura and mana through meditation and consuming potions to cleanse the forest's dark taint.
Each soldier carried dozens of potions—healing potions, ones that hastened mana and aura regeneration, boosted stamina, and many more.
"Status report," commanded Ricardo.
"Two warriors are dead, Heir," reported Marco, his voice tinged with sadness.
"Only two? I thought we'd lost at least a few dozen."
Ricardo was surprised—but pleased. The low casualty number brought him relief.
Seeing Ricardo so cheerful, Marco was internally upset.
"He's happy we had few losses… But is he indifferent to those who died? I don't know what to think… then again, considering the way he was raised, maybe being numb to death is normal."
Ricardo saw the emotions on Marco's face. Wanting to comfort his closest friend, he said:
"Marco, the dead are gone. We must move forward, as we always have."
Marco was startled.
"Did he read my mind?" he thought, bowing slightly.
"Understood. Forgive me, Heir."
"You've done nothing to forgive, Marco. But know this—I'm not heartless. Of course I mourn the dead."
Ashamed of his earlier thoughts, Marco nodded silently.
"What's the state of our potion supplies, Heinricht?"
Heinricht responded:
"We're well stocked, Heir. Thanks to our preparations, we have ample supply."
"Good. That's all for now. Tomorrow, we continue the conquest. Stay alert."
Everyone bowed their heads and left the tent one by one, without turning their backs to Ricardo—only Marilin remained.
"Is there something wrong, Marilin?" Ricardo asked with concern.
"No, but... do you think your father, the Lord of the Dynasty, sent us on this campaign at this specific time on purpose?"
Ricardo was taken aback by the question.
"I wouldn't be surprised. But it doesn't fully make sense—many heirs of the Western Dynasties are in this army too."
"I don't think he cares," Marilin said, lowering her head, ashamed.
Ricardo didn't get angry. In fact, he agreed with her words.
"I haven't had many conversations with my father. In my 18 years, we've only met a few times. But I wouldn't put anything past him.
A tyrant with absolute power who is indifferent to the deaths of his own children… expecting him to care about others' children is foolish."
As Marilin listened, a look of confidence replaced the doubt on her face.
"So Lord Orsman IV really is the kind of man I imagined."
"He is the leader of House Kislavein. One day, I may become like him—or even more ruthless."
Marilin didn't hide her shock and anger.
"You'll never become like him. I know you. You care about your people. You'll never be a tyrant."
Ricardo was touched by her faith in him, though he hid his emotions. After all, he didn't yet remember that he was Harloumen VIII in a past life.
"In the past, I crushed rebellions with brutal massacres. I showed no mercy when conquering kingdoms that broke away from the Ancient Empire.
I'm not the good person you think I am, Marilin. My hands are stained with the blood of hundreds of thousands—maybe millions—of innocents.
And I don't plan to change in this life either."
When Ricardo's inner voice fell silent, his outer voice spoke—hiding his truth behind a lie:
"It feels good to have your trust, Marilin."
A wide smile spread across Marilin's face—so adorable that it even made Ricardo's quiet heart beat faster. Still, he ruthlessly suppressed the feeling.
"Go and rest, Marilin. Prepare for tomorrow."
Marilin bowed her head and left the tent without turning her back.
Ricardo was now alone in his massive tent.
"You should rest too, my lord."
"You're right, Giskar. I should."
Ricardo laid his head on the pillow and fell into a deep sleep.
Conquered Zones: 2
Surviving Soldiers: 3,497
Days Remaining Until Conquest Deadline: 5
Zones Left to Conquer: 5