Chapter 376 Rewards [2]

The moment Michael placed the second manual back into the box, the official clasped his hands together.

"Well then, Viscount Mic Nor," the man said with a wry smile. "It’s time to decide where your banner will fly."

Michael glanced down at the parchment again, the marked red dots now seeming far more significant than they did just moments ago.

"Truthfully," Michael said, "I don’t know what to pick."

The man’s brows raised.

Michael looked up.

"Do you have any suggestions?"

The official blinked, surprised at first, then nodded slowly.

He had many suggestions—but most importantly, he saw an opportunity.

Michael wasn’t just any tournament champion.

He was the man who might become the Duke’s son-in-law.

Establishing a good relationship with Michael now... might be a ladder worth climbing.

"Actually, I do," the man said, his voice warm. "Three options come to mind. I’ll explain them simply, and you can decide what suits your needs."

Michael raised a brow, then nodded for him to continue.

The official pointed at one of the dots near the center of the map. It was closer to the main road network, nestled between two larger towns.

"This one," he said, "is called Greymarsh. It’s heavily populated, relatively prosperous. You’ll have access to decent infrastructure, trade routes, and a population that—while not rich—is stable and industrious. If you want to establish political influence or grow economically, this is a solid starting point."

Michael stared at it for a second, then nodded slowly. "Sounds safe."

"It is," the man confirmed. "Which also means more bureaucracy."

Michael didn’t look thrilled.

The man moved his hand to a different mark, this one further north.

"Now this," he said, tapping gently, "is known as Twin Rocks. Isolated—but beneath the mountains are rich ore veins, mana stone deposits, and untouched land. No one to answer to, and no interference. But you’ll have to build from the ground up."

Michael’s interest rose. "And the downside?"

"Harsh environment. Weaker defenses. Bandit raids. And... well, you’ll be your own military for a while."

Michael nodded. "That’s manageable."

Then the man pointed further west.

"This one," he said with a hint of hesitation, "is called Thornvale. It’s remote. Extremely rich in natural resources—trees, herbs, alchemy materials, even magic mine but"

Michael raised an eyebrow at the pause. "But?"

The official exhaled.

"It borders the Everlong Forest."

Michael froze.

The name struck him like a hammer.

Everlong Forest.

The first place he’d found himself when he arrived in this world. Where he’d fought for his life.

Michael’s fingers tapped the armrest.

"I see," he said quietly.

The man straightened, then added cautiously, "If I may speak freely..."

Michael gestured. "Go ahead."

"I believe Greymarsh is best for a future noble. A place to grow in power and status without too many risks. Twin Rocks is for an ambitious builder—someone who wants to create their own world. But Thornvale..."

He paused, then met Michael’s gaze directly.

"Well, it speaks for itself h-haha."

Michael said nothing for a while.

Then, slowly, a thin smile touched his lips.

Michael turned back to the map, eyes fixed on Thornvale.

"I’ll take Thornvale," he said.

The middle-aged man blinked once, then slowly began nodding his with an helpless expression.

"A bold choice," he said, his tone measured, but undeniably impressed. "I’ll submit the paperwork today. The Duke will be informed, and arrangements will begin to transfer authority over the region."

Michael didn’t respond immediately. His eyes were still on the map—still on that little red dot on the western border, just shy of the Everlong Forest.

There was a reason he had chosen it.

A very simple one.

Privacy.

Greymarsh was too noisy, too political. It might offer security and convenience, but it came with scrutiny.

He’d be under constant watch, and that was something he simply couldn’t afford. Not yet.

Twin Rocks was tempting, yes.

But Thornvale?

Thornvale sat on the edge of the unknown.

Which made it perfect.

Michael wasn’t hungry for fame or fortune. He didn’t dream of political power or noble influence. What he wanted was control over his own space.

A place where no one would question his actions. Where no one would barge in asking questions about rituals, strange energies... or corpses.

Because while his undead couldn’t be openly summoned in cities without causing panic or outrage, the forest would offer a perfect solution.

Anything Michael didn’t want the world to see, he could do there.

If a powerful undead needed to be trained, bound, or tested, he could march it into the deep woods and do it in silence. If he ever needed to test his spells or push them too far—he’d have the freedom to experiment in the wild, away from the eyes of society.

In the forest?

He could be whatever he wanted.

Thornvale gave him that freedom.

The middle-aged man closed the map gently and looked back at Michael with a more formal expression. "Since that’s your choice," he said, "I’ll begin the transfer process. But..."

He paused, watching Michael carefully. "To be formally recognized, you’ll need to meet with the Duke. He must personally grant you the land charter and bestow the title."

Michael’s lips twitched.

Of course.

He had hoped—really hoped—that he could bypass that part. Avoid the formalities. Avoid the Duke entirely. Avoid anything that smelled like politics, handshakes, expectations, or worse... attachments.

Michael leaned back against the cushioned seat, arms crossed. "Do I have to?"

The man gave a patient smile. "It is tradition. Not just for ceremony’s sake, but for documentation. The Duke’s seal, his public audience—it confirms your rights and prevents future disputes."

Michael groaned softly. "I’d really rather not."

He meant it. Power and authority didn’t tempt him. Titles were useful tools, not aspirations. The idea of standing in a hall full of nobles made his skin itch.

Even more so if it meant seeing the daughter of the Duke.

He still hadn’t decided what to do about that whole issue.

Michael sighed.

Then.

He sighed again.