The office of Guild leader Carvell Veck was large but plainly furnished—an old mahogany desk, a wall of tall windows overlooking the Guild courtyard, and maps of local dungeons pinned across one side of the room. Behind the desk stood Carvell himself, arms crossed, his brow drawn in a mix of wariness and frustration.
Commander Ruban stood at Alden's side, silent as stone, eyes watchful and unflinching. His presence alone, marked by his decorated uniform, reminded the Guild leader that Alden was not just a noble youth with ambition but one with authority.
"So, are you seriously expecting me to believe that marching a military platoon through Blackbend is simply about 'personal security', young duke?", Carvell began, his voice low, controlled.
Alden took a slow breath and folded his arms behind his back. "That is exactly what I expect you to believe because it's the truth."
Carvell snapped: "You've created tension and fear in my guild. My adventurers are alarmed, the others, our employees and customers, even more so. You've brought an army, not a bodyguard. You realize how easily this can be seen as an abuse of status? You could use that force to intimidate adventurers, monopolize dungeon contracts. Or worse—rob them, kill them, and leave no witnesses. No one would dare challenge the Duke's son Without oversight, there are crimes waiting to happen, young duke."
At that, Alden's expression sharpened: "Accusations require proof and slander carries consequences. You are choosing unwise words here guild leader."
Commander Ruban stepped forward, his voice a low rumble. "The young duke's soldiers are under my command, disciplined to a fault. Any misconduct falls on me, and I'll answer for it personally."
Carvell's eyes flicked to Ruban, then back to Alden. "You can quote discipline all day long, but the Guild's concern remains: your presence risks disrupting the balance we've maintained here. You—"
"Alden interrupted, voice calm but resolute: "Under Section Nine, Subsection Three of Guild charter: noble-born adventurers are permitted personal guards for security, provided they serve solely to protect their lords/dukes. These guards may not engage in adventuring activities—actively hunting mana beasts, collecting cores, claiming rewards—nor enter the dungeons other than those their lords/dukes are diving. My soldiers are bound by these rules, and Commander Ruban stands as witness to my compliance."
Carvell opened his mouth to speak, but Alden raised a hand.
"There is also no clause limiting the number of guards I can bring. Not in the Guild laws, nor the regional statutes. If you accuse me and my men of potential crimes—such as stealing and murder—you bear the burden of proof. I've broken no rules, and my actions in Blackbend speak louder than speculation. I've purged thieves, rapists, and murderers from the city's streets, earning the trust of merchants and citizens. Would a potential criminal invest in this city's safety?"
Carvell's eyes flickered, a grudging acknowledgment of Alden's point. The boy's fame for combating crime had spread, his arrests bolstering Blackbend's economy and securing merchant investments for his mana beast hunts.
But Carvell's skepticism lingered, his voice low: "Your deeds in Blackbend are commendable, but they don't erase the risk. A noble with an army at his beck and call is a threat to the guild's balance. This is not just my mere assumption but a necessary precaution.
If you're to register, I need assurances—limits on your escort, oversight by guild observers, something to ensure fairness."
Alden's gaze hardened, his voice dropping to a steel edge: "You demand concessions that are not required by the laws. My 'personal guards' are my right. Oversight implies distrust, yet you have no evidence to justify it other than just your assumption. Deny my registration without cause, you violate the charter and you'll challenge House Valerius's honor as well as his Royal Highness King Glayder's vision. In case you haven't noticed, I am his valuable investment, forged to serve Sapin's future. Do you wish to tread on this path, Guild Leader Corvell?"
That word—Royal Highness—hung in the air like a blade drawn across silk.
Carvell stiffened. He was no fool. The king had plans for Alden, whispered in courts and councils. A future weapon. A potential white core mage for the Kingdom.
The room stilled, the air thick with tension. The guild leader's face tightened, his sharp eyes searching Alden's, finding no trace of a naive child, only a cunning and authoritive future duke displaying his sharp intelligence.
Carvell exhaled, his shoulders easing slightly, though his voice retained its edge. "You know the law better than most adventurers, young duke. I'll grant you that. But don't mistake my caution for weakness."
He leaned forward, his tone softening but firm. "I'll register you as an adventurer, but I'll be watching. One misstep—one hint of your soldiers crossing the line—and I'll have the guild's full weight on you and house Valerius. Mind you this: your parents, not you, will bear the consequences, despite your royal favor."
Alden nodded, his expression serene, a mask of compliance. " I welcome any scrutiny, as my actions will prove my intent. May we proceed with the registration?"
"Of course. You've been sponsored by general Maxwell, who was a former AA ranked adventurer himself, as he had sent his letter to me. Which means instead of starting at F-rank like almost everyone else, you will go through a practical examination to determine your actual rank based on your capabilities right away....Well I'm not surprised if you have also already known about it right?", Carvell asked.
Alden nodded. During the royal tutelage, Alden was trained by the mighty general Craig Maxwell. The general was amazed by Alden's natural talents at such a young age and acknowledged him quickly. Alden contacted him for the help with the Adventurer's ranking procedure and he agreed.
"Right. But first, we will do an inspection of the your core before the exam. Linda!", Carvell called out his assistant.
"Yes sir.", a young lady in guild's employee uniform walked to the room.
"Take the young Valerius duke to the mana core inspection room while I do his registration paper.", Corvell ordered.
_____________________
"The inspection room was a sterile chamber, its walls etched with mana runes, a glowing orb device on a stone table. Linda, her guild uniform crisp, stood beside the inspector, a wiry man with trembling hands. Alden placed his hand on the orb, its light pulsing as it read his core.
The inspector's face paled and drained of color: "Solid… orange… and… tri-elemental—fire, earth, wind??!!! And lightning deviant as well????!"
He scribbled notes, his voice quaking.:"At 8 years old?!!"
"Anything else?" Alden asked, his tone flat, indifferent to the awe.
"N-no, my lord," Linda stammered. "I'll escort you to the rank examination arena."
Five minutes later, Alden stood in the guild's wide arena, its tiered seats half-filled with adventurers, their murmurs a mix of curiosity and skepticism. He wore practical adventuring gear in black color—lightweight leathers with padding at elbows, knees, shins, chest, shoulders, belly and back, chosen for mobility.
He also had 2 small forearm light steel braces and a helm, which were all hastily forged by Master Jorvan's blacksmiths from the leftover steel and materials of his army's weapon production.
Alden's design for the helm was inspired by the iconic Roman legionary design, it featured a polished steel mask with an impassive, poker-faced visage, its eye slits ,nostril holes and mouth opening meticulously carved to balance protection and breathability. A hinged mechanism allowed the mask to lift or secure with a satisfying click. Its quality was subpar, but it was more than nothing, considering Alden's current situation of being economical.
A dimension ring on his left hand contained a magic staff and a magic wand as a sidearm.
If he had money to spare, he would have definitely commissioned the blacksmiths a high quality heavy plate armor set for his own which was not in this case since he had prioritized the investment on the army before himself. Alden had calculated the moves of his men and the risks of the dungeons he was intending to dive. His strategy relied on his platoon's formations, not his own protection. Hence he didn't need to have his own armor yet since he would be cleaning the dungeons without the need of lifting a finger.
Although he was a conjurer—and by the so-called 'logic' of this world, conjurers were expected to wear light robes woven from mana-conductive fabrics rather than the heavy armor favored by augmenters—Alden found the notion absurd. He remembered first hearing it during his royal tutelage, surrounded by scholars who parroted the tradition with unwavering conviction. He hadn't argued aloud, of course. But in the quiet of his mind, he had questioned the sheer stupidity of it.
Armor, regardless of one's magical affinity, serves one purpose: to keep its wearer alive. Conjurers or augmenters, mages or non-mages, death doesn't discriminate. To Alden, this was just another illogical, dogmatic belief passed off as a flase wisdom to the public.
The conjurer examiner, a wiry figure cloaked in faded blue robes with a weathered hood, stepped into the Blackbend Adventurer's Guild arena, his voice slicing through the murmur of the half-filled tiered seats.
"Alden Valerius!" he called, his tone faltering as he scanned the report trembling in his hands.
His jaw slackened, eyes widening at the scrawled words: "Solid orange at 8 years old… and—by the great deities!"
The revelation of "tri-elemental" on the parchment left him gaping, his gaze shifting to Alden with a blend of awe and disbelief.
"Truly the blessed prodigy of our kingdom, my lord," he blurted, his voice laced with reverence.
Alden didn't care about his compliment, he summoned the magic staff from his ring as he walked the the arena to face the conjurer examiner. The staff's head embedded with mana conductive crystals. The shaft was reinforced with metal.
In the audience, commander Ruban sat rigid among the onlookers, evaluating his future duke's combat capabilities. Guild Leader Carvell Veck, having completed Alden's registration papers, couldn't resist the draw of the spectacle, joining the stands to discern if the boy's fame matched his reputed might.
The examiner clutched a magic staff tipped with a sapphire-colored crystal. He was a dark yellow core, 2 stages above Alden, water affinity, ice deviant and also with more years and experiences.
"Begin."
The examiner moved first after his announcement, his staff sweeping in an arc. Mana coalesced, the air shimmering as water condensed into a swirling whip, its edges frosting with ice: "Frost whip."
The whip lashed out, its icy tips whistling toward Alden, fast enough to flay skin and numb limbs.
Alden didn't flinch. A fire shield materialized before him, intercepting the frost whip mid-air and vaporizing it in a burst of steam. In the same breath, a dozen jagged earth spikes erupted from the ground beneath the examiner's feet. The two spells were conjured simultaneously and he didn't shout their names like some dramatic moron.
The examiner responded quickly, conjuring an ice barrier to block the spikes.
'Multi-casting? His fame doesn't lie.' he thought grimly about Alden, an 8 year-old, capable of achieving a very hard skill that takes many years for conjurers to perfect.
The earth spikes slammed into the barrier, shattering it into a spray of ice shards. But before they could hit the ground, the examiner manipulated and added more water mana within the shards, reforging them into sharp ice spears and launching them back at Alden: "Ice Spears!"
But Alden was no longer there, the ice spears hit nothing but air.
3 seconds earlier when the examiner was forming the ice barrier, Alden had reinforced his body with mana and sprinted to the left side to flank him with a lightning bolt.
Years of battle instincts kicked in. A wall of water surged up, encircling the examiner without touching his body. The lightning struck the barrier, crackling through the conductive water, but never reaching its intended target. Undeterred, he reshaped the electrified water wall into spherical orbs, preparing to hurl them back at Alden.
But before his counterspell could fully form, six earthen whips made from rock and soil burst from the ground beneath the examiner. They coiled around his arms and throat, squeezing with crushing force, choking off his incantation.
'This fucking devil incarnate!!!', The examiner grunted in tension and pain.
Alden's casting speed overwhelmed him, the barrage of spells—modest in power but relentless in number—outpacing his water and ice.
He saw that Alden had already finished forming a series of stone arrows coating with flame and shooting at him.
Faced with no alternative, the examiner abandoned his electrified water orbs, their form collapsing into puddles as he redirected mana. Water couldn't stop stone, the electricity inside the orbs made it significantly harder to freeze it into ice. So he had no choice but to make a new ice barrier, encasing himself and freezing the earthen whips and surrounding ground to stop further ground-based attacks coming from Alden.
The fire stone arrows clashed against the ice, cracking and melting it down. Their impact reverberating through the arena. Within the barrier, the examiner shattered the frozen whips, breaking free as the crowd held its breath, the duel teetering on a knife's edge.
A magnificent battle between 2 high level conjurers was more spectacle than the fanciest firework festivals.
"You're a menace, boy," the examiner rasped, his voice a mix of grudging respect and strain. Gathering a large amount of ambient water mana and mana from his core, he raised his staff skyward, water surging from the puddles, having lost of its earlier conductivity, freezing into a towering ice golem
"Rise my protecter. Glacial Guardian, destroy my foe!!", The examiner read the incarnation during the process.
Its crystalline arms swung wide, unleashing a hail of ice shards.
Alden dogded and slapped the incoming tiny shards with his staff, they weren't that dangerous to waste mana to defend. However, a direct attack from this Glacial Guardian would cripple him instantly, adding with the frostbite to the wounds as well.
While Alden was calculating the counterspells and running from the Glacial Guardian simultaneously, the examiner casted a chilling fog followed, sapping heat and visibility, testing his adaptability. But about the visibility, Alden used his trained sense for opponent's mana source to locate the examiner rather than solely relying on his eyes.
Alden channeled fire mana, his staff igniting as a rolling wave of flames clashed with the golem. Steam billowed, obscuring the arena, but the Glacial Guardian persisted, its ice reinforced by the examiner's waning mana. Dodging a sweeping punch with augmented speed, Alden felt the ground tremble where he'd stood, the impact cratering the earth.
Shifting tactics, Alden slammed his staff down. A ripple of earth mana surged outward, the ground quaking as fissures spiderwebbed toward the examiner's towering Glacial Guardian. The ice golem's base cracked under its own weight, its crystalline feet sinking into the cratered earth, slumping helplessly.
Before the examiner could save his ice golem, Alden channeled a powerful ring of fire at his position.
The air shimmered with heat, threatening to engulf him. The examiner reacted swiftly, conjuring a water barrier that shimmered into existence, its surface hissing as the flames collided, sheathing it in steam. Unharmed but pressed, the examiner watched as the fire melted the frozen ground, exposing fresh earth. Alden seized the opportunity, summoning a cluster of rocky whips that erupted from the soil.
The examiner hardened his water barrier into ice, its surface gleaming as it deflected the whips.
Alden summoned his sidearm magic wand from his ring and flipped his staff to grip it reversed. He channeled wind mana into the staff's head, unleashing a burst that propelled him forward with startling speed. Simultaneously, he coated his wand with layers of rock and flame, shaping it into a crude, burning stone blade.
Soaring toward the ice barrier, Alden drove the blade forward, its fiery tip puncturing the frozen wall. The barrier crumbled, shards scattering as he aimed the sword at the examiner. Inside, the mage stared in utter disbelief, while the audience leaned forward, gasps rising from the edges of their seats, stunned that the young duke might triumph.
A massive ice fist swung from the golem's side, forcing Alden to react. He conjured a rock shield, layering it with a gust of wind to redirect the blow's force, and augmented his body with mana. The impact shattered his defense instantly, flinging him back across the arena, the force jarring his frame.
The Glacial Guardian had broken free from Alden's earth trap thanks to the examiner controlling it.
Alden rose, his right shoulder throbbing from the golem's diminished punch. The examiner stepped out of his shattered barrier, a burning cut on his left arm soothed by a self-cast water spell— Alden's strike had landed a split second before the interruption of Glacial Guardian.
The arena erupted, cheers and murmurs blending as adventurers rose from their seats. Commander Ruban nodded subtly with a rare grin of pride.
"Alright, that would be the end!", Corvell stepped in to stop the examination.
"What? Leader, I'm fully in mood to fight more!" the examiner protested, his voice tinged with frustration.
"I pay you to evaluate the exam takers, James, not to destroy the guild's arena. Also, you are wounded." Carvell scolded, his tone firm like a father chiding a child. He signaled healers to tend the examiner's wound. "Cease your conjurations, give the young duke his feedback and assign his rank."
"Fine...Young duke, no false flattery here, your core strength, elements and deviant mastery, multi-casting, adability and.... creativity as well...You are more than enough for A-rank...But due to our dumb rules and stuffs, I'm only allowed to place you at B-rank right now. If you want to advance to A-rank—"
"I know the rules and the procedure. B-rank for me is adequate.", Alden interrupted him.
"Thanks for the excellent fight my lord. A shame that my grumpy leader forbids me from having more fun, or else I could have forced you to show more of your tricks.", James with a smirk, as if he wasn't faltered by the wound that Alden caused.
"Do you need my healers to check for you, young duke?", Corvell asked.
"That would be unecessary.", Alden replied curtly as he walked with Ruban out of the arena.
"Well fought, Young Master," Ruban murmured as they walked. "Yet after this display, I suspect Guild Leader Carvell has more reasons to make allegations on whether your intention of bringing your platoon is truly for your safety at all."
"Let that dog bark as he wishes. He will break his own teeth before he can bite me.", Alden replied with a flat tone.
______________
Alden received the copper card of B class adventurer and matched his platoon to the portal leading to Beast Glades.
The first dungeon in Alden's list was the D-rank Luminous Burrow, his platoon of 124 soldiers followed him into the entrance along with the captain and commander Ruban. The 10 extra soldiers stayed outside to guard the horses and the carriages. The healers also stayed outside, whenever there were injured soldiers, the whole platoon would retreat immediately back to the entrance for them to take care.
The soldiers' boots crunching on the damp stone floor, the air thick with the earthy scent of mana and the faint glow of bioluminescent fungi lining the tunnel walls. The first floor was the domain of the Boggi, small theropod-like E rank mana beasts he'd studied: scaly yellow hides with brown markings, hyena-like heads sporting large ears, oversized lower canines, and a patch of dark hair along their shoulders, backs, and tails. Their biology meticulously studied by Alden from guild records: their meat is edible, a resource he also aimed to harvest instead of just their cores.
"Formation: Box!!", barked the captain of Platoon 1.
The platoon swiftly snapped into formation at the Captain's crisp command, their movements a seamless display of discipline. The front, sides and back bristled with pikemen, their mana-augmented pikes angled outward behind sturdy shields, forming an unyielding outer wall. Behind them, a layer of halberdiers and warhammer wielders, also shielded, stood ready, their weapons poised to strike through narrow gaps with lethal precision. Next, crossbowmen balanced their firearms atop comrades' shoulders or shields, bolts nocked with practiced ease, their elevated positions offering a clear line of fire.
A second layer of infantry, armed with halberds, warhammers, and shields, followed, their focus shifting to guarding the crossbowmen and conjurers rather than pressing the offensive. At the formation's core, four conjurers wove protective spells, their mana flaring in subtle, shimmering arcs, while the Captain of Platoon 1 stood among them, observing and issuing orders.
Alden and Commander Ruban stood at a distance, observing the formation in action. Ruban, a dual fire-and-wind augmenter at the light orange stage, had little concern for the young duke's safety—after all, a boy like Alden clearly didn't need protection from low-ranked mana beasts, no matter how anxious the Duke and Lady might be.
What worried Ruban more was the possibility of having to intervene to save his men if things went wrong. This dungeon dive was the first real test of Alden's formation strategy—a strategy Ruban had yet to fully place his trust in.
From the depths of the corridor, 69 Boggi burst from the shadows, snarling and screeching. Their scaly hides gleamed under the fungi's glow, brown markings blurring into the dim stone. Their jaws snapped open, oversized canines gleaming, charging headlong into the formation.
Crossbowmen loosed volleys, bolts whistling through gaps, a dozen striking the Boggis, their scales cracking under the steel's force. The survivors reached the front lines, but their momentum broke against the unyielding wall of pikes. Skewered and stunned, they screeched in dying breathes. Pikemen shook the corpses free with expert flicks.
One particularly agile Boggi ducked past the defenses, crashing against a shield. Its claws scraped uselessly until a halberd from behind stabbed clean through its mouth.
The conjurers, under strict orders, refrained from offensive spells, their mana conserved for only dire situations that required their protection.
"Advance forward!" came the next command.
The formation surged forward in unified steps, stealing space from the Boggis and compressing them into kill zones.
Within 3 minutes, the 69 Boggis lay dead, their hides intact for harvest, the crossbowmen tallying the highest kills with their precise volleys.
"Recover the bolts !" the captain ordered. The soldiers moved swiftly. Not a single bolt was broken or dulled—proof of Alden's flawless crossbow design. Still cautious, Alden had instructed them to secure the entire dungeon first before gathering resources, avoiding any risk from ambushes or lurking threats.
Before proceeding deeper into the dungeon, Alden made an adjustment. To test the formation's ability to protect high-value individuals, he ordered Commander Ruban to stand within the core of the formation alongside him and the captain . Though Alden had confidence in his formation's design, he wasn't arrogant enough to underestimate the increasing dangers lurking on the lower floors. Even so, both his and Ruban's roles remained strictly observational—they were there to assess, not to fight unless necessary.
Descending to the second floor, the air grew heavier with mana. A distant rumble warned of the next threat: thirty Great Boggi, evolved D-rank variants.
They emerged from the gloom—twice the size of their kin, green-scaled with thick manes of white feathers running from neck to tail. Their red eyes glowed with malice, their claws sharper and longer, jaws wider and stronger, muscles taut with violent potential.
The platoon braced, the box formation tightening as the Great Boggis charged, their roars shaking the stone.The pikemen met the first wave, pikes piercing Great Boggis' hide, but their sheer might forced the front line to stagger, shields trembling under the impact. A warhammer wielder, momentarily distracted, was knocked back by a Great Boggi's claw strike, tumbling to the ground, only to be hauled upright by his comrades behind.
Unlike the weaker Boggis, the Great Boggi didn't die instantly. Pikes stopped and wounded them, but halberds, warhammers and crossbow bolts brought the finishing blows. Ten fell in the first minute.
The Captain of Platoon 1 shouted:
"Front line transition!!"
The first row of pikemen withdrew, handing their pikes to the infantry behind them mid-stride, transitioning to halberds and warhammers. The new pikemen stepped up, forming a fresh line, their stamina unspent. This rotation, designed to preserve endurance, allowed rested soldiers to replace the fatigued, preventing exhaustion from nonstop combat.
After tense 10 minutes, the thirty Great Boggi had been dealt with.
The platoon advanced to the next area ,Alden's senses sharpening as he detected a new wave of mana signatures ahead.
The tunnel widened into a cavernous third floor, its ceiling shrouded in shadow, the fungi's glow illuminating a pack of D-class Maccao.
These agile mana beasts stood as tall as a man, their forms a striking blend of ferocity and speed. Vibrant green feathers cloaked their bodies, contrasting with reddish-brown underbellies rippling with muscle. Sharp, curved claws adorned their hands and feet, their heads crowned with small, horn-like crests and filled with jagged teeth bared in snarls. Their tails, encased in a hard, shell-like layer, swung like hammers, adding a devastating arc to their attacks. Their movements mimicked martial artists, leaping with precise kicks and claw strikes, their tails lashing with hammer-like force.
Their number was vast, 103 in total, but they were getting picked apart by the crossbowmen. A pair of beasts jumped at the front line, their powerful legs slamming against the shields, the force staggering the pikemen but leaving the formation intact. A Maccao's tail swung rapidly, crashing against a shield with a resounding thud, yet the line held while they fell down one by one.
A group of 10 Maccaos climbed on the high grounds of the cave and jumped down on top of the core of the formation.
"Conjurers, above us!!", The captain noticed and barked out just in time.
The conjurers detected them and casted their spells. Fire blazes, stone bullets, wind blades and water canon. The 10 Maccaos were brutally bombarded with spells mid air and fell to the ground. The inner infantry wasted no time—halberds and hammers finished them without mercy.
After about 20 minutes later, all 103 of them became corpses waiting to be looted.
The air thickened with malice as the platoon descended into the final floor of the dungeon. Faint hissing echoed through the stone corridor.
Wroggi, C-class mana beasts. They resembled the Boggis in basic structure but they were far larger and more sinister in appearance. Their scaly skin shimmered with hues of burnt orange and muddy ochre, streaked with irregular purple markings that blended into the dark. Their heads were narrow, reptilian, with sharp, beady eyes that gleamed with malice.
But the most striking and deadly feature was the pair of swollen, semi-translucent poison sacs bulging on either side of their elongated necks. With each breath, the sacs pulsed ominously, releasing intermittent puffs of greenish mist that shimmered faintly in the dim light, a noxious cloud capable of inducing extreme nausea and dizziness to victims.
A wave of hissing roars preceded their charge. 39 Wroggi emerged from the gloom, flanking from three directions in a coordinated pincer attack.
"Poison! Conjurers, protect the formation!!" the captain shouted.
Before the poisonous mist could blanket the formation, a surge of wind burst outward from the center. The wind conjurer had taken immediate action. With a focused gesture, he conjured a persistent vortex around the formation, drawing the clouds of venom away and dispersing them harmlessly into the cavern ceiling.
The water conjurer blocked off the Wroggis' posion breathing by drowning their mouths with water. The fire and earth conjurers helped the crossbowmen to kill the flanking beasts quickly before they tried to attack more with their poison.
"Advance forward! Do not let them any space!" the captain barked.
The soldiers responded with precision. The shield wall held, though trembled under the relentless assault. Pikes stabbed outward, catching the Wroggi mid-lunge, while halberdiers and warhammer wielders delivered devastating counterattacks. Crossbow bolts tore their number down quickly like reaping wheats in the field.
The battle raged for 15 minutes before the last Wroggi collapsed with a strangled hiss, its poison sacs deflating as its body spasmed and fell still.
Thirty-nine corpses. Zero casualties.
Mana beasts fought as their nature dictated: relentless, vicious predators driven by instinct. Adventurers typically lacked proper formations or coordinated teamwork, their efforts scattered and chaotic.
Augmenters always charged blindly, clinging to a naive idiotic belief in fair one-on-one duels with each mana beast, a mindset honed through practice against human trainers but woefully misaligned with reality.
The same recklessness applied to conjurers, who unleashed spells with little regard for mana conservation or the need for defense in critical situations, leaving themselves vulnerable to flanking or close combat.
Their approach was devoid of discipline and logics, a mindless scramble more akin to the instincts of animals or mana beasts than the calculated actions of humans. Consequently, they perished in futile struggles, their deaths serving as free meals for the mana beasts, who successfully defended their nests with ruthless efficiency.
The harsh truth, too often ignored by the kingdom's shortsighted people, was this: mana beasts are not humans. They do not fight—they hunt. Concepts like fairness or honor created by humans can't be applied to them.
They swarm, overwhelming a single target before moving to the next without hesitation. Thus, the 80% of combat training focused on one-on-one duels—whether in the Adventurer Guild, the Military, Royal tutelage, or elsewhere in Sapin—proved useless and impractical when facing large packs of mana beasts in dungeon dives. Adventurers, ill-prepared for such numbers, fell easily to swarms, a key reason behind the rising death toll each year.
Alden had discerned this sheer inefficiency in Sapin's combat tactics, recognizing the need for a radical shift for his army to survive the mana beasts and in the future: other armies.
The soldiers set to work immediately. Picking up the bolts and using blades carved through scales and sinew. Cores were extracted, poison sacs sealed in enchanted jars and corpses piled methodically. Alden watched over the process with a calculating eye from the final floor and backing up to the first floor, noting efficiency and waste.
From start to finish—hunting and harvesting—the entire dungeon was fully cleared in just one hour and thirty minutes.
Adventurers typically spent four hours clearing a dungeon entirely—and that only applied to full parties of B-class or higher. Adventurers from E to C ranks wouldn't even dare go beyond the second floor. Limited manpower, and higher risks made full clears virtually impossible. Most adventurers hunted only the first-floor beasts and left for their own safety.
Alden had changed that.
He had weaponized the weakness of Guild charter, exploiting its holes in the laws to use trained soldiers for dungeon harvesting—a move none had dared before.
The first logistical problem arose sooner than expected.
The two carriages brought to transport materials were already near capacity—Alden had not expected such a high yield. It was a miscalculation, but one with an easy fix.
"Soldiers, absorb all E-rank Boggis cores." Alden commanded.
Cores from the first-floor beasts weren't worth hauling back to sell. But they still held valuable mana, enough for soldiers to refine their own cores and increase their strength. Killing two birds with one stone—free storage and accelerated training.
With the carriages nearly full and their mission complete, Alden ordered the platoon to continue forward and clear the next D-rank dungeon, located just one kilometer away.
It took them only twenty minutes to reach and clear the first floor of the new dungeon.
Same tactics. Same formation. Same results.
Beasts fell. Resources harvested. But this time, they had to stop there—the carriages were completely full. It was physically impossible to carry more.
This was the eternal weakness of all adventurers: limited space.
No matter how strong or efficient, adventurers were always forced to abandon resources. They had to cherry-pick valuable items and leave behind the rest—flesh, hides, claws, fangs and lesser cores.
Dimensional rings were the solution—but they were prohibitively expensive, especially in bulk. Outfitting all 134 soldiers with such items was out of the question.
Not to mention, a dimensional ring had its own limited space of containment. So even an adventurer team with dimensional ring on each person wouldn't always be certain for full harvesting.
"Return to the castle," Alden ordered.
The soldiers, who were energized by their victories, obeyed without hesitation.
"We will unload everything, switch up with the platoon 2 and prepare more carriages.", Alden told Ruban.
His strategy was to train the entire army of House Valerius by deploying each platoon in turn. Platoon One, which had just completed today's dungeon dive, would return to the barracks. Then Alden would order them to share their real life experiences, lessons, and tactics with the other soldiers—passing down everything they'd done about fighting against mana beasts. Meanwhile, Alden would lead a fresh platoon to clear another dungeon.
The dungeons would gradually increase in difficulty, starting from D-rank and slowly progressing toward C-rank once enough time and experience had been gained.
This cycle would repeat continuously until all platoons were battle-hardened, familiar with dungeon tactics, and every soldier had advanced their core to at least the orange stage. Only then would Alden begin leading them into B-rank dungeons and so on.
"How many more carriages of the army available, commander?", Alden asked.
"....Only five more, last I checked.", Ruban with an uneasy expression.
"That number is vastly inadequate for an army of our size. How is that possible?", Alden realized a problem that he didn't consider.
"Our forces were structured primarily for defense, not for long-range deployment or resource hauling. Most supply needs are met directly from the castle. Army's carriages weren't a priority for the Duke unless we are in war times." Ruban explained.
"Hmmm.", Alden thought for a split moment and he already had a solution for it.
"Another grand idea forming in that mind of yours, my lord?" Ruban asked with a knowing look.
"We return first," Alden said flatly, already mounting his horse.
The platoon rode back toward the portal after an incredibly successful first dive.
On the way going home, Ruban made a small talk to his future Duke:
"On the journey home, Ruban broke the silence with a rare note of sincerity:
"The promise you made three months ago, young master… I saw it take shape today. And it exceeded all of my expectations. I'll set aside any doubts or objections I once had—no more hesitations because of your age. And I pledge my full service and loyalty henceforth, my future duke."
"Your service and loyalty are valued, commander. I anticipate your continued compliance and dedication to my decisions," Alden responded, his tone unwavering.
Ruban nodded.