“Of course. You’ve improved quite a bit since last time.”

When Yuma brushed the dust off his clothes and stood, the gatekeeper grew awkward and sheathed his sword.

Though the gatekeeper avoided the dishonor of losing twice within a month to a nameless boy, it was humiliating all the same.

Even if the gatekeeper had fallen, that didn’t mean the headquarters of the Black Wolf Corps would have been breached.

There were more than a dozen archers hidden along the fortress walls, concealed by magic and camouflage equipment.

In the past, if it hadn’t been Malon standing there, the instant the gatekeeper was struck down, arrows laced with poison and magic would have rained down.

After all, it was no different from declaring war on the Black Wolf Corps.

The same was true now with Yuma.

It wasn’t only because he was just a boy. This time, an Imperial Arch Mage stood beside him. To unleash a volley here would risk sparking unnecessary diplomatic friction.

“Damn brats. You didn’t come to drag Malon away, did you?”

“That’s right.”

“You and Malon both need to break the habit of swinging swords first and asking questions later. Keep strutting around just because you’re strong for your age, and one day you’ll be snuffed out in an instant.”

The gatekeeper tugged the rope tied to the bell five times.

A merchant could be overlooked. But an Imperial Arch Mage and an extraordinary boy? They were worth reporting.

And the fact that, despite an Arch Mage’s presence, it was Yuma who took the lead—this was unusual.

Before long, the fortress gates opened.

The group strode forward into the citadel, under the watchful eyes of the Black Wolf Corps soldiers.

Kahel gazed around the fortress interior with interest, while Puang nervously wiped the cold sweat off his brow.

At the center of the stronghold sat Hugo, upon a massive steel throne, greeting the uninvited guests with the posture of a tyrant receiving tribute.

“These days, life is full of entertainment.”

His voice was deep and resonant, as though amplified from the depths of a cavern.

“Sit.”

At Hugo’s command, Yuma’s group simply lowered themselves onto the dirt floor. It was blatant disrespect, but even Kahel sat in silence without complaint.

Even as they merely breathed, Hugo’s enormous muscles radiated heat like a colossal steam engine, pulsing with raw power.

When Hugo rose to his feet, Kahel and Puang stared wide-eyed at his towering frame.

Over 2.3 meters tall, with thighs thicker than the waist of most grown men.

From his eyes shone a crimson gleam, like a great ruby blazing with light.

So the rumors don’t even do him justice.

Kahel, who had seen countless warriors, shuddered at the aura rolling off him.

He didn’t need to fight him to know—this was the strongest human he had ever met.

Now he understood why, whenever the Kingdom of Matan was mentioned in council, the Empress and her ministers sighed with dread.

Hugo. Nicknamed the Ogre Slayer. The only man in history to defeat an ogre in single combat. His name never failed to appear when people spoke of the world’s strongest.

He was also the only warrior to have ever defeated the Sword God, Malon Zak, in Yuma’s previous life.

“An Imperial Arch Mage. A merchant. And a boy who wields Sword Aura, and happens to be Malon’s friend.”

Hugo looked straight at Yuma, his face expressionless.

Yuma recalled how even before Empress Hella Roze, Hugo had refused to show deference.

Countless knights had witnessed it, yet not one dared rebuke him.

The justification had been that the Empress herself had not taken offense—but the truth was, it was a humiliating scene.

Most knights simply cowered in silence, too terrified of Hugo.

The only one who had dared confront him was the young Sword God, Malon Zak.

After negotiations with the Empress ended, Hugo accepted Malon Zak’s challenge to a duel.

Though Malon Zak fought nearly evenly with him, he ultimately lost by a hair’s breadth.

The important detail? Hugo had been unarmed. He had left his massive war maul behind before entering the audience chamber.

Had he survived, the human casualties in the Dragon-Horse War would have been drastically reduced. Yuma was determined to make him an ally.

“We’ve come to entrust a mission to the Black Wolf.”

The “Black Wolf” was the title given to the commander of the Corps.

Hugo began walking slowly toward them. With each step he drew nearer, Puang screwed his eyes shut, unable to even raise his head.

Even Kahel and Yuma struggled to withstand the crushing pressure. With each step Hugo took, it felt as if gravity itself had grown heavier.

“If you came to me directly, it must be a matter worth my time.”

Hugo stopped just in front of Yuma. Even though Yuma’s frame was strong for his age, compared to Hugo he looked like a child facing a giant.

For once, even Yuma felt tense.

“Thank you for opening your gates. Let me introduce us properly. This is Imperial Arch Mage Kahel Fobian, this is merchant Puang, and I am Yuma.”

“And these men follow you?”

“They are my kin.”

“In the Empire, where rank means everything, a commoner calls himself kin to a Fobian elder?”

“This isn’t the Empire. In Matan, we can be kin—so long as no one betrays us with loose tongues.”

“It isn’t wise to play word games with me.”

Though Hugo smiled faintly as he spoke, Yuma felt his knees buckle against his will. It was a warning, a flicker of killing intent. To Hugo, it was faint—but to Yuma, it was overwhelming.

“A lonely man doesn’t usually enjoy jokes. I’ve been rude.”

“You’re too young to be speaking of loneliness.”

“Yet here it stands, plain before my eyes. I couldn’t fail to notice it.”

Hugo shifted his gaze to Yuma’s forehead. Yuma felt as though a mountain pressed down upon his skull, his head heavy, his focus straining not to collapse.

If he relaxed for even a moment, he would surely topple over. Hugo’s crimson gleam flared more intensely for an instant.

Not mana… so it isn’t a magic eye. Yet those eyes blaze with such light. Strong and mysterious indeed.

Kahel found himself wishing, if possible, to befriend Hugo and exchange long conversations with him.

“I see a wrinkle. The same kind you’d find on the pure foreheads of dragons or demons. And yet—you’re entirely human.”

“I’ve never seen dragons or demons, so I wouldn’t know.”

“Even if you did, you wouldn’t recognize them. Not until you cross the boundary.”

“If you can see such things, then surely that too is proof of loneliness.”

Yuma had no idea what “boundary” meant.

Perhaps it was Hugo’s way of describing the state of mastery he had achieved—or maybe he meant an actual border that led into another world.

It was something to discuss later, once their rapport had deepened.

If it were the latter, perhaps some intervention could be possible before the Dragon-Horse War ever began.

Puang, meanwhile, could not begin to understand why Hugo and Yuma were talking such nonsense. He only wished this meeting would end soon, so he could recalibrate the distance between himself and Yuma.

The one small relief was that Hugo had firmly declared Yuma was not a dragon.

While this strange exchange unfolded, Kahel tilted his head. That faint, peculiar aura around Yuma… perhaps it wasn’t just his imagination after all.

“You’re skilled at weaving words and courage. Quite different from your friend. Malon pissed himself after barely two sentences with me.”

“If I manage to leave here alive, I’ll be sure to tease him about it.”

“Tell me your request.”

Hugo’s voice softened.

“…Could I go to the restroom first, before I explain?”

“Go, then. It’s over there.”

Yuma bolted straight for the lavatory. As soon as he locked the door and sat on the toilet, nausea hit him like a wave.

“Huuuh… huuuh!”

As he exhaled in ragged breaths, his body trembled uncontrollably, the tension he’d held in finally breaking loose. He smacked his quivering legs with his fists again and again, forcing himself to steady his mind.

Damn… haah, that was terrifying. They said Malon only wet himself? I’d have thought he crapped himself too.

While Yuma composed himself in the restroom, Hugo looked down at Puang, who was trembling on the ground in some posture between bowing and collapsing.

Unlike Yuma or Kahel, he gave off no special aura. He was just an ordinary man.

“You’re the first Imperial merchant ever to set foot here. Do you know that?”

“N-No, I didn’t, Your Majesty!”

When Puang addressed him as Your Majesty, the Black Wolf soldiers nearby roared with laughter. Even Hugo’s lips curled faintly.

Puang, too terrified to feel shame, could only stare at Hugo’s ankles.

“I won’t harm you. A merchant’s fear is nothing to be ashamed of. But a merchant who earns money and never gives back—that is shameful. From now on, I’ll expect generous support for the Black Wolf Corps.”

“Y-Yes! Of course, I’ll support you as much as you wish!”

By the time Yuma returned from the restroom, the tension inside the citadel had eased, making the atmosphere lighter. Even Yuma felt less burdened. He stepped forward and began to explain the request.

“Hugo, do you know of the Miryaks?”

“Don’t insult me by asking if I know what cannot be unknown.”

The Miryaks were war refugees, a stateless people without protection in any land. Hugo, who had fought on countless battlefields, could hardly be ignorant of them.

Yet he hadn’t expected the word to come from the mouth of the boy who had come to entrust him with a mission.

“I want to bring them here, to Matan, and have them farm the land.”

“You wouldn’t have come to me just to grow ordinary fields. Why the Miryaks, specifically?”

“Because it’s dangerous farming.”