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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: The Shield of the Count's House Guards the Kingdom
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Prologue
Drip.
A single drop of blood fell.
Drip.
Another drop of blood fell.
My body had long since become a blood-soaked mess from smashing, tearing apart, and grinding the bodies of my enemies.
The forces of the Holy Empire seemed quite shocked by the power I had kept hidden.
And why wouldn't they be?
According to their intelligence, I was nothing more than a mere merchant. They never imagined I'd resist this fiercely.
'But even so, it seems too late to change the tide.'
That's right.
In the end, I had failed to rebuild the kingdom. And as if declaring my failure, the enemy before me slowly stepped out onto the battlefield where we faced off and shouted.
"Jaeger, leader of the Carlos Merchant Group. Your schemes have all been exposed. Give it up already."
Viscount Wendinel, the Crimson Flame Mage who enjoyed the emperor's utmost favor despite hailing from a kingdom crushed by the Holy Empire, spoke calmly.
"No, I suppose I should call you the last survivor of the Shield Family—Jerome von Carviot."
They even knew that much. There was no longer any escape. But I couldn't just roll over and die sitting here.
"...If you've figured it out that far, then pointless excuses won't work. But don't forget—'we' are everywhere across the continent. And don't think that damned empire will last forever."
"Ah, if you're pinning your hopes on the Stigma Mercenary Corps, you should give that up too. We've already confirmed that their veiled leader is you."
Ah, fuck.
It looked like I was going to die right here after all.
"What about Stigma?"
"The three dukes have already gone to wipe them out personally. They're strong, after all."
'It's all over. Damn it.'
For a moment, an urge to give up welled up unbidden, but I quickly steadied my shaking resolve.
'...No, it's not over yet.'
If I could smash these damned intruders who stormed the merchant group...
And then go to Stigma and smash the three dukes...
I could start over. Again.
Once resolved, it was time to act.
Crack!
"Time's short, so come at me all at once. I'll smash you all."
I channeled Steel and smashed the head of the nearest bishop in a surprise attack, signaling the resumption of battle.
After taking out the bishop, I fought desperately to break through the encirclement around the merchant group.
Smash. Smash. Smash again.
My power, Steel, was practically invincible in chaotic melee.
But Viscount Wendinel was as seasoned as the rumors said.
The moment Steel faltered under the overlapping aura-infused attacks from the Holy Empire's holy knights...
Her flame magic scorched me.
"Cough! Cough! Grrgh..."
Blood must have filled my lungs; my coughs came out dull and muffled.
Standing before me, bleeding from multiple wounds, was Viscount Wendinel, staff in hand, looking relatively pristine.
That is, only her right side looked pristine.
Her left arm had been torn off by me long ago. A pity. If I'd known, I would've trained Pankration harder.
"...I'm impressed, you. To think the Shield Family's wastrel had not only mastered Pankration—which was said to be obsolete in your house—but also acquired a Heterogenous Power exclusive to the Black Lions. And at such a high realm, no less."
Even after a brutal fight that cost her an arm, Viscount Wendinel calmly assessed me.
She cauterized her left arm for hemostasis without so much as a change in expression.
"Heh... For the esteemed Viscount Wendinel to praise me like that, this lowly merchant doesn't know where to put himself."
"No, really, I'm shocked. You should take pride in it."
Despite my mocking laugh, she objectively evaluated me and merely gazed at her empty left sleeve.
"With this... I suppose the emperor's favor ends for me too. What a mess."
She spoke as if troubled, yet her composure remained unshaken.
No anger at losing her arm to me, no sorrow—just emptiness, in my eyes.
Whoosh!
Regardless of my thoughts, Viscount Wendinel ignited flames in her remaining hand on her staff and aimed at me.
"You did well, right to the end. In my experience, you're the first noble to resist the empire for so long. If you'd delved deeper into Pankration, the outcome might have been different."
Her calm evaluation was spot-on—infuriatingly so. It matched my own thoughts exactly.
"Any last words?"
She offered me one final 'mercy.'
But my pride wouldn't allow me to accept such 'mercy.'
I painfully turned my collapsed head to look around. Numerous Holy Empire soldiers who had survived stood watching.
Which meant...
'All my men in the merchant group are dead.'
If the empire's three dukes had gone personally, Stigma's fate wouldn't be much different.
'Puppet, I leave the rest to you.'
I trusted the mercenary corps' vice-leader, Saladin the Puppet Master, to somehow escape.
Then, my final task was clear: take as many of these bastards with me as possible—friends for my fallen comrades, so I wouldn't hear as much shit later.
"Last words, you say..."
Pretending to mull her words, I subtly clenched my right fist.
A faint ripple spread outward in concentric waves from the merchant group buildings.
"One thing... In whatever life remains for you, don't be the black sheep."
"Black sheep?"
"It's slang from our kingdom. When all the cows have spotted patterns, the one that's just plain black stands out awkwardly. But you see, Viscount."
Rumble rumble rumble!
As my words ended, the merchant group buildings began to shake.
"Acting all cocky and relaxed with enemies before you... You were already the black sheep, huh? Hahaha."
Boom!
The entire merchant group was engulfed in a massive explosion.
And my consciousness faded.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Chapter 1
Chirp chirp chirp!
A faint bird song from afar slowly roused my severed consciousness.
My nerves awakened bit by bit, taking in the surroundings. Warm sunlight tickling my face, a soft blanket enveloping my body...
Wait. Blanket?
"Ugh..."
A headache, especially in my head, made it hard to open my eyes. But for pain I'd braced for in death, it was bearable.
As I slowly opened my eyes, the room came into view.
A lavish room with an impossibly plush bed. And luxurious bedding.
'Did someone rescue and treat me?'
It was possible. Though the Holy Empire had swallowed the continent, pockets of resistance like ours existed everywhere.
But a room like this could only belong to nobility.
'Could there be nobles within the empire rebelling against the emperor?'
It wasn't impossible.
Then hope remained.
'First, I need to find out what happened to the mercenary corps.'
I was pondering my next steps when I realized this room...
It felt strangely familiar.
Bang!
"Oh dear, Third Young Master! You're awake!"
The person who burst in hugged me tightly before I could even turn my head.
What was this? Third Young Master?
Hearing a title I'd only reminisced about in distant memories from someone right in front of me felt utterly bizarre.
But before I could dwell on it, she released me from the hug and started slapping my back.
Smack!
"Gah!"
Damn, that hurt.
More than the magic from Viscount Wendinel!
"Oh, you brat of a young master! When will you ever get your act together and grow up?! Huh?!"
"Damn it, what the hell are you—huh?"
As I endured the pain and looked at who was yelling at me, holy shit.
There was a face I hadn't seen in ages—truly ages.
Muscular arms and a maid uniform straining at the seams, worn impeccably.
"...Bori?"
Her name slipped out unbidden.
A connection lost to time I could barely recall. But no way I'd mistake someone this distinctive.
No doubt about it. Bori, the nanny and maid who'd changed my shit-filled diapers as a child.
She'd stayed until our mansion burned when the family fell, so she must have died long ago.
'Ah, so this is the afterlife I've only heard about?'
Yeah, I must be dead. More vivid than expected, though.
"Uh... Bori, long time no see. Like 20 years? But why are you still a nanny in the afterlife? You lived so hard—rest easy now."
"Pardon?"
Ah, that look. I remember it.
That was the look she gave when I spouted nonsense.
No, I was just happy to see her after so long and pitied her for toiling even in death—a kind word, that's all. Why this reaction?
"You're still half-asleep!"
Bori's prized sturdy arm slammed my back mercilessly again.
"Aaaagh! Ah, Bori! I'm plenty grown now—who still sees me as a kid... Huh?"
I glanced absentmindedly at the mirror hidden by Bori's body and froze like an idiot.
I was a kid.
The white hair that had prematurely grayed from the kingdom's fall, shiny beyond belief in pitch black.
Eyes once mocking my helplessness during the family's schism, filled with guilt—now sparkling like stars.
And crucially...
Skin tanned and tough as dragon armor from Steel, now baby-soft and clear.
A young noble lad on the cusp from boy to youth. I knew this boy better than anyone.
"...Me?"
In the mirror was me, from about 30 years ago.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
I finally got Bori, mid-rant, to leave by saying I needed time to think.
She sighed deeply, grumbling 'Still hasn't wised up, hasn't wised up. Jeez.'
But I had no time for trivialities.
Long story short: I'd returned to the past. To my days as a 15-year-old punk.
This was precisely when I'd wandered aimlessly, wasting my life like trash.
According to Bori, I'd come home dead drunk from gambling yesterday and passed out.
Pathetic in hindsight, but that's how I was back then.
Born the third son of the Shield Family—one of the two great houses of the mighty Ikenia Kingdom, overlords of the continent's southwest.
Unlike my family, I had nothing—absolutely nothing—to boast about.
True to our name, we were the kingdom's shield and guardian god, blocking the Holy Empire's southern advance from the north.
No ordinary folk could shoulder that duty. We had to be exceptional, and our ancestors upheld that. So did my parents and siblings.
My father, Bacchus von Carviot, was a knight ranking in the top tier of the continent's 11 superhumans. My mother, Elena von Carviot, hailed from a famed magical lineage.
My brother and sister properly inherited that blood, both prime candidates for the next generation's 11 superhumans.
Though their egos clashed so badly they wrecked the family spectacularly.
Anyway.
As a even younger child, I'd admired my brother and sister, striving to be like them.
But something went wrong. Did I inherit only the worst genes from my brilliant parents? I lacked talent in everything.
Swing a sword, and I couldn't tell if I wielded it or it wielded me.
Try magic, and the tutor said 'Third Young Master is hopeless' and refunded all the fees.
After years of despair and wandering over my lack of talent...
Only then did I discover my gift for Heterogenous Powers and began researching our family's shelved Pankration based on them.
Until then, I'd drowned daily in booze and gambling... that was my stormy youth.
After that, I played resistance fighter with those powers and died.
'This is a chance. To fix what went wrong.'
In my previous life, even after awakening to Heterogenous Powers and Pankration for strength, regrets abounded.
Years wasted rotting my body; once balance was lost, it hobbled me to the end.
Who could've guessed my brother and sister were such loose screws!
Coming back right before I truly squandered my life didn't seem coincidental.
"Is there really a god like the Holy Empire claims? Maybe a revelation to clean up their mad emperor and devil pope since they're causing headaches."
I chuckled at my own words.
The cause didn't matter. What mattered was that now was then.
'Ten years until war breaks out. I'll change everything in that time.'
As I steeled my resolve inwardly...
Bang!
"Third Young Master, once you're sobered up, head to the lord's office. The lord insisted to send you there the moment you came to your senses."
Looks like even in this life, I had to sort yesterday's mess first.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Knock knock knock.
Three steady raps announced my arrival at the office.
"Enter."
The voice wasn't loud, yet rang clear and deep like a low bass right beside me.
Opening the door, a middle-aged man slowly polished his armor despite not being on display.
A massive frame evoking monsters from the northern Dragon Mountains.
He said nothing, just tended his gear with such reverence it pressured me into silence.
This man was one of the continent's 11 strongest, lord of the famed Shield Family of Ikenia Kingdom.
And in private, my father.
Twenty years since I'd last seen him.
Seeing Father hale and hearty brought tears unbidden to my eyes.
'In this life, I won't let you go so pointlessly.'
As I clenched my right fist behind my back in resolve...
Bacchus finished with the massive tower shield—even grown men would struggle to lift—and spoke.
"Why clench your fist like that?"
"...Pardon?"
"What, so resentful at my summons?"
"...?"
His tone was aggressively sharp.
Ah, right.
I was here to get chewed out.
"Pathetic. At your age, your brother awakened aura. Your sister isn't far in Wood Spirit. What have you done?"
"...I'm sorry."
Outwardly a revered knight and noble, now he was just a regular dad scolding me.
Novel after so long, stirring emotions.
But why this defiance bubbling up?
"I'm not blaming your lack of talent. That's not your fault. But wasting precious time like trash? That's entirely on you. Pathetic."
Thud!
Mid-rant, Bacchus tossed something.
Head bowed, staring at my feet, the title caught my eye.
Territory Management Theory
A tome covering everything for managing our lands, tailored to Banten region—the family admins' bible.
"If you lack ambition, at least learn this and aid your brother or sister. That's all a talentless child like you can do for the family."
In my past life, these words crushed my pride; I ignored him and wasted years more.
Result: Disqualified as heir, erased from relevance.
To paint a different future, change started small.
Gain voice in family, aim for heirship. Secure position where my words couldn't be ignored. Only then could I alter fate. Begin with mending ties with Father.
Swoosh.
I bent, picked up Territory Management Theory.
"...?"
Unexpected? I caught the flicker of surprise in Father's eyes.
"Fine, whatever. If it helps the territory, I'll learn it. Hell, I'll do it."
Father surely noted my compliant tone differed from usual.
Human relations thrive on striking when least expected—for maximum impact.
"So, by when should I master it? When do I show results to benefit the family?"
My challenging question made Father's eyebrow twitch.
Rebellion or reform? He couldn't tell.
"...New admins take about three months to learn practicals from Territory Management Theory. But you lack fieldwork time, so I'll give you four."
Fair judgment.
The book detailed all of Banten territory.
Memorize it in four months? Study till your ass bled.
Yes, master it in four, and Father would think I'd turned over a new leaf.
But no. Make it dramatic—like a lion who'd hidden its claws for a reason.
Pausing, I slowly replied.
"Nah, life's too short for four months on this. I'll finish in one."