The smell of smoke still lingered faintly over the Wesk lands. The ashes of the Silver Beast's rampage had barely settled, and yet the village was alive again — buzzing with a sense of awe and cautious excitement.
For the first time in decades, the people had seen knights marching through their streets — a hundred gray-armored soldiers, disciplined, cheerful, and completely loyal to their young lord.
They were odd, yes. They bowed to children, helped farmers carry sacks of wheat, and one of them seemed entirely dedicated to brewing hot drinks in the middle of chaos… but they were theirs.
And in a land that had long forgotten what protection felt like, even odd soldiers were worth celebrating.
The day after the battle, Issac sat at a small, round table in the castle's modest dining room.
The table was made of old oak, scarred and scratched from generations of use. A pot of steaming herb tea sat between them — Melissa's favorite blend — and across from him, the half-elf maid poured herself a cup, the faint scent of mint and honey filling the air.
She hadn't said much since the battle. But Issac knew her well enough to know what that silence meant.
She was thinking.
"So," she finally said, setting her cup down with a soft clink, "I'll give you one more chance to explain it — properly this time."
Issac shifted in his seat, scratching the back of his neck. "Explain what, exactly?"
Melissa's blue eyes narrowed. "Don't play dumb, Issac. You said you had a relative who sent those knights… yet when that fiery one appeared from thin air, you claimed he was 'another' from the same relative. And now? You tell me your knights obey you like spirits bound by contract."
Her gaze softened slightly. "I'm not angry. But I need the truth, Issac. I can't protect what I don't understand."
Issac exhaled slowly. He couldn't exactly tell her, 'Oh yeah, I have a literal video game gacha system in my head.' That would go over great.
So he chose a half-truth.
A subtle explanation.
"Alright," he said finally. "It's… a sort of Summoning Contract."
Her pointed ears twitched. "A contract?"
"Yeah. Think of it like… a bloodline inheritance. A kind of ancient magic that lets me call upon certain warriors from… somewhere else. They're loyal to the Wesk name, and they fight for the prosperity of the castle."
Melissa studied him, her gaze sharp, searching. "So they're not mercenaries?"
"No. They can't betray me. But the contract has limits — it only activates when my lands prosper. The stronger my territory, the more warriors I can call upon."
He smiled faintly. "So… if the castle thrives, so will its protectors."
Melissa's eyes glowed faintly with mana. She wasn't just listening — she was probing. Her elven sight could detect deceit, even subtle lies woven through words. But what Issac said, while omitting much, was true enough.
After a few tense seconds, she leaned back, releasing a quiet sigh. "I see… So it's a Summoning Contract that binds external beings to your service. That explains their mana signature — not quite human, not quite elemental, but somewhere in between. Like constructs, yet alive."
Issac nodded. "Exactly."
She tapped her finger on the table. "You're lucky, Issac. Even the Archmages of the Tower of Magic aren't permitted to summon human souls. The gods guard that right jealously — only divine summons can bring humans or sentient beings from other worlds."
Her gaze softened as she added, "Be careful. That sort of contract may draw attention."
"I'll keep it quiet," Issac said with a nod. "Besides, it's not like I can call an army overnight. The system — I mean, the contract — needs prosperity. People working, food growing, trade happening. As long as this place stays poor, my knights stay limited."
Melissa smiled faintly. "Then we have a clear goal. Make this place thrive."
"Exactly."
Issac tried not to show it, but hearing her say we, warmed him a bit more than it should have. For someone who'd lived as a neglected noble, having anyone stand beside him — even a snarky half-elf maid — meant something.
As they spoke, a flicker of confusion passed through Issac's mind.
He didn't remember his old name — not his parents, not even his face from before this life. All that remained were feelings, instincts, and flashes of light from a glowing screen.
Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he saw a controller.
He remembered laughter, maybe a brother's voice shouting, "Hit Left Trigger, man! Use your special!"
And now, that same input — Left Trigger — was the magic of his knights.
Coincidence?
Or fate?
He didn't know.
And he wasn't sure he wanted to.
Melissa's voice broke his thoughts. "Issac?"
He blinked. "Huh?"
"You were zoning out again. You do that a lot lately."
"Sorry," he muttered. "Just… thinking about the future."
She nodded approvingly. "Good. You'll need to, if you plan to be a real lord."
Then she smiled, a genuine one this time. "But for now, it's time for dinner. You've missed lunch again."
Issac groaned but stood anyway. "Yeah, yeah. Lead the way, Miss Taskmaster."
Melissa rolled her eyes. "You're fourteen, Issac. Eat your meals properly and maybe you'll actually grow into that title of yours."
"Hey, I can't tell my body to grow faster," he muttered.
"Then eat faster," she countered, and the faintest smirk tugged at her lips.
The sun rose gently over the Wesk territory, casting golden light over the wheat fields and stone walls. Birds chirped, farmers shouted greetings, and the rhythmic clang of hammers echoed from the outer walls.
Issac stood before the assembled knights in the courtyard. All one hundred of them — plus one fiery addition — were standing in rows, their gray armor gleaming faintly from the polish Melissa had demanded.
Even Flare, the Fire Knight, stood proudly beside them, his armor shimmering orange in the morning light.
Issac raised his voice. "Alright, everyone! Listen up!"
The knights immediately straightened, a perfect unison of clanging armor and disciplined silence.
Melissa, standing beside him, folded her arms and muttered, "At least they're obedient."
"Yeah," Issac said, "Now let's see if they can follow orders."
He cleared his throat. "We've got a lot to do. Our walls are half-collapsed, our roads are a mess, and the farms need protection if we're gonna feed anyone. So, here's how it's gonna work."
He pointed toward the horizon. "Forty of you — we're dividing into four teams of ten. Each team will guard one of the four farming zones. Five of you on day shift, five on night shift. Protect the farmers, scare off beasts, and for the love of the gods, don't eat the crops."
A few knights in the back glanced at each other guiltily.
Issac continued. "Fifty of you — we're starting reconstruction. You can choose whether to work on the wall or the streets. Melissa will give you supervision and food rations."
Melissa blinked. "I will?"
"Yes, because you're the only one who can make sure they don't rebuild the wall upside down."
She sighed. "...Fair point."
Issac nodded. "The last ten — you'll stay here to guard the castle with Flare. You'll also help patrol the perimeter and train when not on duty."
He turned to Flare. "That includes you. You're in charge of leading their drills."
Flare raised his burning hand in salute. "Understood, Lord Wesk. We'll make your castle a fortress of flame and iron!"
"Uh… preferably not flame," Issac corrected quickly. "Which brings me to your next assignment."
Flare tilted his head. "Yes, my lord?"
"You'll be training under Melissa for a while. She'll help you control your magic so you don't, you know, accidentally burn the castle down."
Flare straightened, clearly unamused. "With respect, my lord, I am a master of fire magic."
Melissa smiled pleasantly — the kind of smile that sent shivers down men's spines. "Oh, I'll make sure to test that claim thoroughly."
For a brief moment, Issac swore he saw the fiery knight flinch.
"Training starts at noon," Melissa added sweetly. "Don't be late."
Flare saluted stiffly. "…Yes, ma'am."
Issac clapped his hands, getting everyone's attention again. "Now, before you all head off — one more thing."
He gestured to the soldiers. "Take off your helmets."
There was a chorus of metallic clicks as a hundred helmets came off, revealing the faces beneath. To Issac's surprise, they weren't as uniform as he expected. Some had scars, some were clean-faced, some young, some older — all of them human-like, yet strangely perfect. Too perfect, as though sculpted from the same mold but given tiny imperfections to feel real.
"I want you all to carve names into your helmets," Issac said, holding up a small dagger. "Whether you have one or not, make one up. I don't care if it's short or long, serious or stupid. I just don't want to bury nameless soldiers if something happens."
The knights looked at one another — then nodded.
"Yes, my lord!" came the united response.
Issac smiled softly. "And don't name yourselves 'Gray Knight Number Whatever.' You're honorary knights of House Wesk now. Make your name mean something."
For five minutes, the courtyard filled with the sound of scratching metal as the knights began etching names into their helms. A few chuckled softly, others stared into the sky, deep in thought. One even pulled out a piece of charcoal to write before engraving it.
When they were done, Issac walked among them. He read names like Bran, Holt, Rico, Kelm, and… Mr. Cup.
He stopped. "…Mr. Cup?"
The knight raised his helmet proudly — the same one who had stolen Melissa's teacup days ago. "A name of pride, my lord."
Issac pinched the bridge of his nose. "…Fine."
Melissa smirked faintly behind him. "At least they have individuality."
Once the assignments were finalized, the courtyard came alive.
Groups broke off, some heading toward the farmlands, others toward the outer walls. The sounds of laughter, hammering, and shouted orders filled the air. The once-empty castle grounds were now bustling with activity.
Issac watched them with quiet satisfaction.
For the first time since he'd awoken in this world, he felt like a lord.
Not a hero. Not a chosen one. Just… someone building something that mattered.
Melissa approached, wiping dust from her apron. "They listen to you."
"Yeah," Issac said, smiling faintly. "Guess I'm starting to sound like a real noble, huh?"
She gave a rare, approving nod. "You're growing up, Issac."
He grinned. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Depends," she said. "You're still a child in a world that eats children alive. But at least now you've got an army."
Issac looked back toward the training grounds, where Flare was glaring nervously as Melissa adjusted her gloves for what looked like a very intense session.
"Yeah," he said, "and one of them is about to regret his entire existence."