Chapter 22
Brown turned to me and said, “We’ve secured the connection.”
“Well done. El, start your cultivation and recover your spirit energy.”
“Yes, young master.”
To return to the other side easily, we would need the help of the wind spirit once again.
“El, your contribution in this hunt was significant. As a reward, I’ll remove the shackles of slavery that bind you. From this day forward, live as one of my domain’s people and serve me with lifelong loyalty.”
“Thank you!”
I had no intention of simply setting El free. She was a valuable spirit summoer. Just like mage Jansen, I planned to forge a Mana Oath with her. Even so, her status changing from slave to free citizen was still a significant shift.
Brown glanced at my shoulder. The shoulder guard had been dented and stained with blood—but there was no wound left beneath. Fresh flesh had already grown in the short time since the battle.
“Are you alright, sir?”
“I feel like I’ve answered that ten times already. You mind telling me now how many more times you’re planning to ask?”
Pain still flared with every movement. I tried to rotate my shoulder fully earlier, only to fail. It would take time for my internal injuries to fully heal.
“My apologies. The wound did look quite serious…”
“It’s healed. You’d better focus on your own arm instead. From what I can see, you won’t be swinging a sword for at least a week.”
Brown had barely managed to secure the rope earlier with help from El and Jansen. He simply couldn’t apply enough strength with his arms.
He had defended against the marked orc’s relentless attacks for too long—his arms had gone numb.
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t end up crippled for life because you don’t know when to stop. When I say be careful, be careful. That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir.”
Suddenly, the forest where the marked orc had been slain—burst into commotion.
The clatter of horses and chatter of men could be heard approaching from the distance.
There were only a few groups in the area wealthy enough to ride such expensive horses. Through a gap in the brush, I caught a fleeting glimpse of their armor—and I had a good guess who it was.
“So they finally decided to show up.”
Sir Brown stared tensely into the woods, while Jansen quietly told El to stop her aura cultivation.
Soon after, a group of knights emerged. Roughly thirty in number, several looked like they had been through hell.
‘Ambrod?’
Ambrod de Zylson—brother of the current Viscount Zylson and captain of the Zylson Order of Knights.
The man leading the group must have been Viscount Zylson himself. The banner fluttering at his side bore the Zylson family crest, confirming his identity.
I bowed respectfully.
“It is an honor to meet you, Viscount Zylson.”
The viscount looked down at the corpse of the marked orc.
Its head had been severed—its body left in a miserable state.
“…Are you the ones who hunt this orc?”
“We are.”
‘So the rumor was true—Ambrod was crippled in an orc attack. Lost a leg, it seems.’
The man with a prosthetic leg glared at the orc’s remains with burning hatred, then turned his fierce gaze on me.
“Explain.”
I didn’t feel like explaining every little detail, so I glanced behind me.
Jansen took the cue, stepped forward, and bowed his head.
“I am Jansen, a third-class mage in the service of Lord Louis de Hebron.”
He proceeded to explain everything we had been through.
The Zylson knights' expressions shifted constantly as they listened, and Ambrod’s face twisted into a grimace.
“A slave who handles a low-tier wind spirit… That’s a rather expensive piece of property you’ve claimed.”
“I got lucky. And as of today, that girl is no longer a slave—she is now one of my vassals.”
Viscount Zylson looked at me with a puzzled expression, as if trying to comprehend why I would give freedom to a spirit summoner I could have used indefinitely.
‘Typical noble thinking.’
Restricting freedom might work during the early stages of training, but if you wanted real growth, you had to unshackle them and awaken their ambition.
That’s why House Breio didn’t use slave soldiers. With talented individuals lining up for recruitment, there was no way a passionless slave could ever catch the duke’s eye.
Viscount Zylson asked me.
“You command a mid-tier fire spirit?”
“I’ve no reason to lie about that, do I?”
“Yet you killed the orc not with flame, but with a sword?”
“The creature’s hide was too tough. It couldn’t be burned with the spirit’s flame.”
“A spirit swordsman? This is starting to sound like a fantasy novel. How much of it am I expected to believe?”
He was clearly demanding that I summon my fire spirit—but I didn’t raise even a flicker of aura.
“We’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the future. I’ll show you in due time.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“We plan to rebuild the cloud bridge that was burned down.”
“Whose plan is that?”
“It’s mine.”
“You haven’t forgotten this land belongs to me, have you?”
“I’ve confirmed that the land I’m standing on is part of the Hebron territory. Do you plan to prohibit Hebron’s people from entering your lands?”
The viscount looked down at me. The Breio family had never paid much attention to minor nobles like Baron Hebron or Baron Nurha, but Viscount Zylson was on their radar.
I remembered what kind of man he was. He couldn’t stand owing a debt, and he cherished his younger brother deeply. The fact that he led a knight order himself to seek revenge, even after his territory’s strongest knight lost a leg, said everything about his devotion.
Viscount Zylson removed the sword armor from his waist. He tossed it at my feet. At a glance, it was worth at least 200 gold—a fine sword.
“It’s better than a broken blade. Consider it payment for hunting that weird orc that was running wild in my land.”
As expected, the Breio family’s analysis had been accurate.
This man despised those who talked big but had no skills.
“I simply killed a beast that was trespassing on my land.”
“I will welcome the people of Hebron. If there’s anything you need, say the word. It’s the least I can do to thank you for avenging my brother.”
It was a reply I found very satisfying. I’d been planning to make a request myself, but since Zylson had made the first move, I had no reason to hold back.
I bit down on the bait he offered.
“Then I ask one thing. Would you help to create a road from this cloud bridge to your estate?”
Only faint traces of a road remained between the cloud bridge and his estate. Even though we’d caused explosions and fought a noisy battle, they hadn’t arrived sooner because of that.
“A road will be opened within a month.”
“Thank you, Viscount.”
“Are you in a hurry?”
He asked casually, and I pointed at my weary retainers.
“As you can see, quite a bit.”
The viscount clicked his tongue.
He seemed to think I was cold toward him because of the grudge between our two houses.
In the past, House Zylson had been the right hand of House Hebron, which used to be a marquisate. But when Hebron fell to the rank of viscount, the Zylsons betrayed their former lord. Because of that, Hebron had burned the cloud bridge, choosing isolation and poverty, and eventually sold off their title and territory just to survive.
“When your work is done, come find me. I’d like to properly repay you then.”
“I also have something to say to Sir Ambrod. I’ll try to make time soon.”
“To my brother?”
‘That look could kill a man.’
Ambrod stared at me like he wanted to tear me apart.
"What, do you want to brag that you killed the orc yourself?"
It must have been a matter of pride for him as a knight.
I looked down at Sir Ambrod’s legs and said.
“There’s no need to worry too much. The capital’s prosthetics have advanced significantly. If you order a pair of ‘Baryan’s Legs’ from the capital, you’ll have no trouble with daily life. If you’re hoping for more than that…”
I was well-versed in medicine. In the Xenon Kingdom, medical science was practically nonexistent, and I dared say no one was more knowledgeable than me. I had read every surviving medical text and even ancient tomes on healing.
Everyone’s eyes turned to me.
Anything more than that would mean a return to life as an active knight.
Ambrod was barely mounted on a warhorse. In battle, one needed both legs to grip a horse’s flanks and maneuver properly. In that state, even swinging a weapon with force would be difficult.
“Instead of a horse, ride a blood wolf. There was once a one-legged orc who rode a blood wolf and swept across battlefields.”
Ambrod looked ready to charge at me then and there. Viscount Zylson showed similar outrage.
“Did you just compare my brother to a mere orc?!”
“That mere orc killed Sir Shylock. I only offered a piece of history. Whether you choose to learn from it or not is up to Sir Ambrod. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have things to attend to.”
The knights said nothing.
Sir Shylock, a knight of House Hebron, had been the most famous in the region. He was a symbol of Hebron’s strength, and during his last battle, he defeated the orc kingdom’s elite forces.
Although the battle was won, Hebron’s general never returned. He was killed by a one-legged orc warrior riding a blood wolf.
According to testimonies from those who were there, the orc moved as one with the blood wolf. His lower body had been firmly affixed to the beast.
Ambrod was no longer glaring at me. He looked down, seemingly lost in thought.
“…I’ll hear you out when the time comes. But if you talk nonsense again, be prepared to wager your life.”
With that, Viscount Zylson led his troops away. Ambrod stayed behind, still staring at me.
Aside from missing a leg, his appearance was flawless—not a single strand of hair out of place.
Even crippled, Ambrod still bore the face of a Zylson.
He kept glaring silently.
I spoke.
“If you want a method more fitting of an orc than a human, come find me. But you must come not as Ambrod de Zylson, but simply as Ambrod.”
He still said nothing.
‘He hasn’t fully despaired yet.’
When the moment comes where even resignation feels like a luxury, that’s when Ambrod will think of me.
Only if he decides to cast aside his pride to survive.
* * *
Two ropes stretched across the cliffs, running parallel.
Planks were placed between them.
If El had more spirit power, we could’ve replaced the ropes with plank-bearing ones from the start, but this was the best we could manage for now.
We carved twin grooves into either side of the planks and slotted the ropes into them. Then we coated the ropes with an herbal solution that made them swell, locking them firmly in place. To reinforce the structure further, we added an adhesive magic. This was the same technique House Breio soldiers used when building temporary bridges.
Two more ropes were thrown across and tied on the far side. They would serve as handrails for the bridge.
“H-How do you know this kind of magic?”
Jansen, who had just learned adhesive magic, asked me.
It made no sense that someone who wasn’t a mage would understand magical theory.
“Until recently, I was Louis de Breio. But of course, that’s a secret. If you tell anyone, the mana in your heart will rupture—you’ll die or be crippled.”
Since Jansen had made a mana contract with me, I could share my secret without worry.
“W-What…?”
“I think that’s enough explanation. Let’s get to the point. The mana cultivation method you learned was refined by the former Tower Master. But originally, it was developed by House Breio’s battle mages. So don’t get caught. As long as the Tower doesn’t drag you back, you should be fine.”
Jansen’s legs were trembling.
