Chapter 9

“Lease land in Matan and request their protection as part of the contract. Directly with the Captain. It’s the kind of mission only the Black Wolf Corps could take on.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Maybe. We’ll only know if we go.”

The base of the Black Wolf Corps in the Egon Mountains was visited by Yuma, Puang, and Kahel.

A wanted commoner, a merchant, and an Arch Mage—it was a bizarre combination. Every step of the way, Puang felt his insides twist.

On one side, a boy who wielded Sword Aura. On the other, a commoner-born Arch Mage adopted into high nobility. The two got along like kindred spirits, chatting endlessly all the way to the Kingdom of Matan.

Yet the one risking both money and life—himself—felt strangely left out.

Heading for the Black Wolf Corps without escorts or an imperial order stamped with the Emperor’s seal meant at least a fifty percent chance of getting killed.

“You’re saying you trespassed the Imperial Palace’s back mountain and ran into the First Princess? And even lied to her?”

“Yes. I think I survived only because I spoke calmly without trembling.”

“At your age? That takes guts. Most would’ve been shaking so hard their knees would’ve buckled.”

Kahel kept the conversation going, clearly amused with Yuma.

It almost looked like an Arch Mage chattering to win the favor of a commoner boy.

Puang couldn’t begin to guess where the words spilling out of that sixteen-year-old’s mouth came from.

A boy in his teens casually holding hours-long discussions with a sixty-year-old Arch Mage—without the slightest trace of awkwardness.

Debating imperial policy and the applications of magic… it was impossible to believe this was the knowledge of a sixteen-year-old commoner.

“Could he really be a dragon?”

While Yuma and Kahel laughed together like grandfather and grandson, Puang was left alone to wrestle with his thoughts.

They stopped the carriage beneath the Egon Mountains, where the servants set up a simple camp.

“It’ll take about two days. There are no bandits or thieves in these mountains, so just be wary of beasts and monsters as you rest.”

The servants bowed their heads to Yuma as if he were a noble.

As if he’d done it before, Yuma led the way straight toward the Black Wolf Corps base.

During the steep climb, it was again Puang who lagged behind.

Yuma’s stamina was unmatched, while Kahel Fobian used body-enhancement magic. Puang had nothing.

“Shall I cast a spell on you too?”

“N-No, Sir Kahel. That won’t be necessary.”

Though it was just politeness, Kahel didn’t ask again.

The Black Wolf Corps stronghold was a fortress carved directly out of a mountain wall.

A citadel forged with both magic and ancient dwarven engineering, radiating overwhelming grandeur.

And looming over the front gate was the colossal sculpture of a black wolf’s head, emanating a strange, oppressive aura.

“Hooh… impressive. To think just a mercenary group could possess something like this. I’ve only heard rumors—I’ve never fought against them.”

“Calling them mere mercenaries is unfair. In terms of strength, they’re on par with the Imperial Guard Knights. Their character is just… different.”

Since Kahel had never crossed swords with them on the front lines, all he knew were bits of rumor.

As they approached the fortress gate, two guards stopped the strange party.

“Huh? Yuma?”

“Been a while, Malon.”

That Malon was working as a gatekeeper was unexpected, but Yuma felt relief seeing him alive and well as a member of the Black Wolf Corps.

He had worried Malon might have been killed by the gate guards instead.

Malon wanted to leap forward in joy, but couldn’t. His senior gatekeeper shot Yuma a harsh glare.

“State your business.”

Normally, requests for the Black Wolf Corps went through regional branches, not their headquarters.

So the gatekeeper showed hostility, wary of the unexpected group. He hadn’t received any report of visitors.

“I’ve come with business for Captain Hugo. Tell him a merchant, an Arch Mage of the Empire, and a commoner boy seek an audience.”

“Coming straight to headquarters with no word ahead, demanding to see the Captain? And claiming to be an Arch Mage of the Empire? Did you come to arrest Malon?”

As the gatekeeper moved to press a sword against Yuma’s neck, Malon hastily whispered:

“Senior, he’s way stronger than me…”

That was how Malon had ended up working gate duty right after joining.

He had beaten two gatekeepers at Yuma’s urging, which caught Hugo’s attention.

Recognizing his potential, Hugo dismissed the crime and brought him into the Corps. Even Malon’s distaste for “rotten knights” appealed to him.

The problem was, during the scuffle, he’d gone too far—sending one gatekeeper to bed for three months.

So Malon was filling in his place.

That senior? The very one Malon had beaten.

“Every dog and ox thinks they can see the Captain! You too, a Sword Aura user?”

But warriors of Matan weren’t the type to back down just because someone stronger was named.

As the senior raised his weapon, Malon had no choice but to draw his sword as well.

—Srrng.

It wasn’t expected that Malon would be here, but this was exactly the situation Yuma had hoped for.

He too cloaked his blade in shimmering Sword Aura and adjusted his stance.

If the Black Wolf Corps gatekeepers lost again to an unknown boy, Hugo himself would come out to see what was happening.

Kahel stroked his beard with interest, while Puang swallowed nervously.

“Why does it always have to be like this? Why does he insist on such reckless moves? Can’t he ever warn me first?”

His frustrated thoughts echoed in his head.

But when the blades were drawn and the standoff began, neither Yuma nor Malon felt any discomfort. In fact, they were excited.

The courage of the other gatekeeper didn’t even register in Yuma’s eyes.

“When was the last time we really fought, huh?”

Malon gauged the distance and asked.

“Is there even a point? I’ll win anyway.”

—Shooook!

With a rush of wind, Malon suddenly lost sight of Yuma.

This was one of his signature moves: “Swift Step,” an instant acceleration technique.

Malon couldn’t react with his eyes, yet he still dodged Yuma’s thrust.

To untrained eyes, it looked like pure luck. But in truth, Malon had perfectly anticipated the strike and tilted his head away at the exact moment.

A talent hovering between foresight and prediction—this was one of Malon’s gifts.

“Still a masterpiece, no matter how many times I see it.”

Yuma and Malon shared the exact same thought.

Yuma and Malon exchanged blows more than ten times in just six seconds.

Each clash of steel rang out in sharp, violent bursts. The gusts from their swords were so fierce that no one dared to step in between. The senior gatekeeper clenched his teeth, struggling to swallow his frustration.

“That boy… he just came to you on his own? You didn’t go looking for him?”

“That’s correct, Sir Kahel.”

“Hah! A golden pumpkin rolling straight into your lap. Reminds me of the young Duran Zak in his prime. And that boy Malon—he’s extraordinary. Even in House Zak, you wouldn’t find many swordsmen like him.”

“To me, it’s overwhelming. Honestly… a little terrifying.”

“A merchant who has a Swordmaster-level prodigy boy and an Arch Mage at his beck and call—where else in the world would you find such a thing? Have some confidence, you fool! Keh keh keh!”

“I’m probably the one acting like their servant…”

Puang grumbled inwardly.

Yet the duel unfolding before his eyes was so breathtaking that he didn’t want to miss a single moment.

Gulping nervously, Puang watched with the wide-eyed wonder of a child cheering for knights, his gaze fixed on the boys’ sword dance.

Even to a man like Puang, who knew nothing of swordsmanship, their duel radiated an undeniable brilliance.

Before he became a eunuch, Yuma’s dream had been to become the Empire’s strongest knight.

In his youth, he loved spoken debates—but he loved even more the silent understanding exchanged through blades.

It had been far too long since he’d felt this thrill.

Perhaps his regression had also revived the emotions of his boyhood, for Yuma wanted this magnificent duel to last forever.

“…Mmm.”

Letting Malon’s offensive wash over him, Yuma steadied his excitement by staying on the defensive.

If it were any other gatekeeper, he would’ve beaten them down without hesitation.

But against Malon, things were different. He was his dearest friend—and destined to become the core of the Black Wolf Corps, a secret trump card in the upcoming Dragon-Horse War.

There was nothing to gain from beating him.

He hadn’t come here to show off his strength. He had come to deliver a mission.

“What the hell are you daydreaming about?!”

With a shout, Malon closed the distance.

Yuma slashed sideways, short and sharp. But Malon twisted his wrist, deflecting the strike into empty air, and rolled forward.

Shoving his shoulder between Yuma’s legs, Malon threw him to the ground while catching the spinning blade in his grip.

“You lost, didn’t you?”

The cold edge of his sword pressed right against Yuma’s throat. An almost acrobatic, unorthodox attack—this was Malon’s specialty.

“I lost, you bastard.”

Flat on his back, Yuma took the hand his friend extended to him.

The senior gatekeeper shook his head as if nursing a headache and spat on the ground.

“Damn it all… where do brats like this keep popping out from…?”

The one who had so boldly drawn his sword in the beginning could only feel bitter defeat now.