Chapter 144

Luxible is a small duchy bordering the mystical jungle of Ronovelli, comprising only a handful of estates.

Although called a duchy, its power was vastly inferior compared to other member states of the Allied Kingdoms.

But that wasn’t all.

Most of the funds required to run the Luxible Duchy came from a single place—Castlelot, located on the border of the mystical jungle Ronovelli.

Although the taxes from that region were substantial, they weren’t enough to fulfill the grand ambitions of Luxible’s seventh king, Pamillono.

Pamillono harbored even greater aspirations than his father, the sixth king.

He dreamed of transforming his duchy into a magnificent, independent nation comparable to other kingdoms.

In theory, it wasn’t impossible. As part of the Allied Kingdoms, wars between territories or nations were prohibited, meaning expanding land through war wasn’t an option.

However, purchasing land with money was allowed. If more land was truly necessary, they could move south. The southern regions were home to the territories of non-human races that didn’t belong to the Allied Kingdoms.

Regrettably, in reality, such dreams were almost unattainable.

Acquiring land required an astronomical amount of money.

The funds needed were so immense that the duchy’s treasury would likely be emptied, leading to its dissolution.

Another option was waging war against the non-human races to seize territory.

However, those races were far from easy prey for the modest forces of a small duchy.

In fact, the United Kingdom tolerated the existence of non-human territories, unlike the barbarian invaders who encroached on the inland regions, for that very reason.

Above all, the primary reason why the seventh king’s ambitions could only remain aspirations was corruption.

Yes, corruption.

Regrettably, even the few estates under Luxible’s control were deeply corrupt.

How corrupt, you ask?

One telling example was that the forces of the grand dukes far outnumbered the royal army.

Thus, from the moment he ascended as a puppet king, he agonized over how to overcome this hopeless situation.

After much deliberation, an opportunity came to him.

A deal with the devil.

No, calling it a deal with the devil wasn’t entirely accurate.

The proposal came from humans, not demons.

Yet, he referred to it as a pact with the devil because their offer was so irresistibly sweet.

Even more enticing was the fact that it came at no apparent cost to him.

If things remained as they were, he was certain to follow in his father’s footsteps—forced into marriage, producing heirs, and ultimately facing the threat of assassination.

The quintessential life of a puppet king.

Deciding he had nothing to lose, he accepted their offer.

He didn’t have high expectations.

It was practically his last act of desperation.

But today—

Thud!

Pamillono received the results.

“…”

He stared blankly downward.

Below, there were heads.

Not of old men, but, in Pamillono’s eyes, of pigs deserving nothing less than to be torn apart.

The heads of Grand Duke Lichferton and Grand Duke Bofur.

Pamillono raised his gaze.

There stood a girl.

Clad in white leather, holding a bloodied spear.

“…Is it real?”

“You can confirm it for yourself. It’s right before your eyes.”

The quick-witted Syrkal swung her spear, lightly nudging the two heads, prompting Pamillono to gulp.

“…There’s no need to go that far.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I could never forget the faces of those bastards, even in my dreams.”

“That’s good to hear. Oh, and just so you know, I’ve also dealt with their soldiers. So, no need to worry.”

“…Is that true?”

“There’s no need for me to lie.”

“I see.”

The girl’s voice was emotionless.

Pamillono let out a deep sigh and stared intently at the rolling heads.

“Very well. Since I’ve obtained what I desired, I shall pay the price. Wasn’t it two requests? State them.”

As he spoke, his expression tensed.

When the girl had first made her proposal, Pamillono hadn’t given much thought to the price.

He hadn’t believed she could actually kill the two grand dukes.

But now, it was reality.

Thus, he steeled himself to pay whatever price she demanded.

“I would like land for my people to live on.”

“…You’re asking for territory?”

“It doesn’t have to be much. Half of the land where I dealt with those pigs would suffice.”

“…I agree.”

The first request wasn’t as exorbitant as he had feared.

Pamillono felt a little bewildered, but only briefly.

“The second request is the most important.”

“…Speak.”

At her next words, he tensed again.

“Make our god your state religion.”

“…A god, you say?”

“Yes. Declare our god as the state religion and erect statues of it throughout the territory. Those are the two conditions.”

The seventh king responded.

“That is not difficult.”

“Good to hear.”

Of course, the presence of the Holy Kingdom of Rosario made him cautious, but Luxible was a place the Holy Kingdom had abandoned long ago.

It meant there would be no issue even if he didn’t uphold Sironia as the state religion.

Pamillono nodded, and the girl—or rather, Swift Syrkal—gestured lightly toward somewhere.

Soon, another girl, Jenira Ganatana, emerged from the shadows and handed a statue to Pamillono.

“…What is this?”

“It’s the statue of the god we worship.”

The statue depicted the figure of a man with his face obscured by shadows.

Clad in a dark coat billowing in the wind, he held lightning in one hand.

“…What is the name of this god?”

As Pamillono gazed at the statue, he posed his question.

“This is the only god of our Thunder Serpent clan, our savior.”

Jenira, as if she had been waiting for this moment, smiled with her eyes and declared,

“The Lightning Bearer, Kalanon.”

Her gaze carried a faint trace of fanaticism.

***

Penia Crysinne had been unusually cheerful lately.

Although there were moments when she wasn’t, most of the time, she was.

This was because she had unexpectedly received an excellent proposal from the Marquis’ house when she went there, fearing her life might be in danger.

In exchange for assisting Marquis Palatio’s magical research, she would be allowed to learn magic from Heinkel without having to hide their relationship.

For her, this was an ideal situation with nothing to lose.

Of course, she would have to assist with the Marquis’ potentially endless magical research, but that wasn’t a significant issue.

The crucial point was that she could now learn magic from Heinkel without any complications.

This was incredibly, incredibly important to her.

Even though she found the Marquis’ presence slightly intimidating, his magical research was quite fascinating.

His magic was unlike anything she had ever encountered.

Since Alon’s magic didn’t adhere to conventional hierarchies, it naturally piqued the curiosity of Penia, a magic enthusiast.

For a time, she found herself genuinely enjoying the magical research.

At some point, she even became able to make eye contact with the gaze lingering behind the Marquis.

Of course, the research period wasn’t very long.

The subject of research the Marquis requested Penia to assist with was unfortunately usable only by him.

Despite his superior magical aptitude, Penia wondered why Marquis Palatio sought her help with his research.

She briefly felt puzzled but soon brushed off the thought.

She had decided not to question the Marquis more than necessary.

What mattered to her was learning magic from Heinkel and satisfying her curiosity through assisting the Marquis.

In any case, her life had been quite satisfying recently.

…That is, until the Marquis left a few days ago, saying he had some business to attend to.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!”

“Yikes—!”

Penia let out a scream.

The chilling wail startled Felin, who was timidly flipping through a journal nearby, causing him to hold his breath unconsciously.

But Penia, as if oblivious to her surroundings, stared at the journal with bloodshot eyes.

It detailed Alon’s latest findings in this research—how cause, mana distribution structures, and molecular arrangements transformed based on their interactions.

“How in the world…”

Penia’s hands trembled as she held the thick stack of papers.

“Am I supposed to do all this?!”

She let out another piercing scream and recalled the conversation she had with Alon a few days earlier.

‘Deputy, I’m leaving this to you.’

‘Uh… exactly what am I supposed to do?’

‘From the research so far, we’ve learned that when mana’s molecular structure combines, it changes into a new form, right?’

‘Yes, yes, that’s… true.’

‘While I’m gone, please organize it briefly.’

‘…All of this?’

‘Yes, it’s not that much, is it?’

‘No, but—’

‘You don’t want to?’

It wasn’t a conversation.

It was like a devil in the guise of a kind professor… mercilessly overworking a poor student—

Penia closed her eyes tightly and let out a sigh.

At last, she realized why he had asked for her help with his research.

‘Was it because of this?!’

With the molecular structure principles already partly understood, all that remained was finding possible combinations—a task that involved brute force.

In other words, this wasn’t research anymore but sheer labor, and exhausting labor at that.

Thus—

“Marquis Palatio, you miserable—”

She swallowed the rest of her curse silently.

“Ughhhhhhhh!”

She let out a strange groan and slammed her head onto the desk.

Penia lay sprawled, motionless for a while.

After a brief, erratic tremor of her shoulders, as if she had lost her sanity, she murmured,

“I’ll do it. I’ll get it done, no matter what.”

Her bloodshot eyes gleamed as she continued,

“I’ll finish this, no matter what… and learn magic from Heinkel, no matter what…!”

She gritted her teeth, spreading her mana.

“I’ll do it, do it, I can do it!!!”

Armed with over five pens like weapons, she began furiously scribbling on the papers.

Witnessing this frenzy, Pellin cautiously curled up, trying to stay out of her way.

***

At that moment.

‘I wonder if she’s doing well?’

Alon, munching on a sweet potato, briefly thought of Penia.

‘Well, organizing it shouldn’t be that difficult.’

He had entrusted her with organizing the molecular structures.

‘Once the first-level arrangements are sorted, it’ll be quicker to implement and connect them directly.’

Unaware that Penia was already working on second and even third-level arrangements, Alon casually took another bite of his sweet potato.

Just then—

“Marquis.”

“Yes, what is it?”

“I’ve heard some rather curious news.”

“Curious news?”

Evan brought up a new topic.

“Yes. Apparently, Lady Rine is now the only senior council member left.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t know why, but apparently, there’s been a string of unfortunate incidents where all senior council members die upon taking office.

As a result, Lady Rine is the only one currently continuing in the position.”

“…That’s really strange.”

“Right? I think so too.”

A brief silence.

“…It couldn’t be, right?”

Alon’s murmuring broke the quiet.

Evan pondered for a moment about what he meant, then quickly laughed.

“Oh, come on—there’s no way. That’d be too obvious, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

With such an exchange, they endured the week until they arrived in Lartania.

Upon reaching the city, Alon met Rine.

“You’re here, Godfather?”

“It’s been a while.”

“Please come inside first. It’s starting to get warm outside.”

The two entered the office together.

“Oh, Godfather, your birthday is on September 20th, correct?”

As soon as the door closed, Rine, with a calm expression, asked the question out of the blue.

“…That’s right. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I’ve been preparing a ‘gift.’”

“A gift?”

A faint smile appeared on her lips as she said,

“Yes. I hope you’ll like it.”

She then turned her gaze toward the lord’s castle of Lartania.