"A Rift has appeared in Beleve!"
"A Rift has opened in Siaho!"
"The city's defense forces have failed to stop it and are retreating!"
"The area near Baron Bourbont's lands has been reduced to ashes…."
Messengers from across the kingdom arrived at the capital in a rush. The Rifts had finally begun opening in multiple locations.
There was no guarantee that these were the only ones. When a Rift appeared in one place and forces were deployed to respond, another would erupt elsewhere soon after.
The royal family and the high nobles of the Royalist faction were racking their brains.
"We need to immediately dispatch the Royal Army and the gathered territorial forces!"
"We'll have to pull troops from the southern front where they're holding back the duchy."
"They say the creatures from the Rifts are superhuman in strength! And Riftborn are pouring out in endless numbers!"
Meetings dragged on endlessly as they searched for solutions. Thankfully, thanks to the prior preparation for war, the Royal Army and territorial forces in some regions were successfully holding back the Riftborn.
The kingdom's prime minister, Marquis Stier Norton, bristled his white beard and asked, "Are you saying that killing this monster called Equidema will stop the Riftborn?"
His son-in-law, Marquis Branford, nodded slightly.
"Yes, that appears to be the case. Count Fenris has already dealt with one."
"Then… has the Rift in that area been closed?"
Marquis Branford shook his head gravely.
"No. It merely prevented further Riftborn from emerging. The Rift itself remains. Currently, Baron Finros has mobilized all his forces to encircle the area."
"Then how, exactly, do we close these Rifts?"
"According to Count Fenris… it seems there's something else inside the Rift that must be dealt with first. Only then can it be closed."
"Good heavens!"
The prime minister clutched his head, utterly at a loss for what to do.
In truth, he was prime minister in name only; Marquis Branford was effectively managing the kingdom's affairs. The prime minister's role was merely to back the marquis and sign off on decisions using his authority.
"What are we supposed to do now?"
Having already thought ahead, Marquis Branford began to speak slowly.
"Closing the Rifts must be our priority. We should leave only minimal defensive forces on the southern and eastern fronts and concentrate on eradicating the Rifts."
"Wouldn't the duchy also be in turmoil? Surely Rifts must have opened in the south as well?"
"Rifts have appeared there too, but… since they're the ones who opened them, I doubt they care."
"What is Duke Delphine thinking, allying with such a cult?"
The prime minister's frail body began to tremble.
At his advanced age, attending these long meetings was already difficult. He had wanted to retire long ago but couldn't because of the threat posed by Duke Delphine.
Marquis Branford had declined the position of prime minister, so the current prime minister was holding on to support him.
The prime minister asked again, "I thought many of the Rifts had already been dealt with? How could things still escalate like this?"
"…If they hadn't been addressed earlier, at least three times as many would have appeared by now."
"Good heavens…."
Even with half the Rifts eliminated thanks to Ghislain's efforts, dozens had still appeared across the kingdom.
Other nations fared even worse. Those that had arrogantly tried to study the Rifts instead of closing them had been entirely consumed, with their surrounding regions destroyed.
The prime minister, his expression still anxious, asked, "Have the monsters spread any further?"
"No, according to reports, it will take some time for that to happen."
The Riftborn could operate in this world thanks to Equidema's power, but their range of activity was still limited.
As the corruption spread, their range would expand, but for now, they couldn't venture far from the Rifts themselves.
"What if the duchy makes a move?"
"…We have no choice. We can't leave the Rifts unchecked."
If the duchy advanced, the kingdom would have to respond. But if the Rifts were left alone, they would erode the kingdom from within, weakening its ability to sustain the war.
Since the Rifts were expanding their influence, they had to be stopped as soon as possible.
The prime minister sighed deeply, again and again.
"It's madness. The duke has gone mad. How could someone so brilliant in his youth have become like this? What's the point of seizing the kingdom in this state?"
A kingdom overrun by monsters was something no one would want. For the Royalists, Duke Delphine's intentions were utterly incomprehensible.
After a moment of silence, Marquis Branford spoke.
"…The northern army will assist us."
"The north? Do you mean Count Fenris?"
"Yes."
The prime minister nodded. By now, Fenris was practically the kingdom's beacon of hope.
Having defeated Marquis Rodrick, the strongest lord in the west, Fenris was aiming to claim the title of the kingdom's strongest. Their military prowess would undoubtedly be invaluable.
Moreover, the north had experienced no Rifts. Though suspicious, this allowed them to preserve their full strength.
"What about the west?"
"Some Rifts have appeared there as well. Given the need to stabilize the region, it's unlikely they'll be able to provide much support."
The west, now under Count Fenris's control, wasn't in a position to assist elsewhere.
While they were swiftly recovering thanks to Fenris's support, the newly opened Rifts in the surrounding area presented additional challenges.
Ultimately, Fenris was the only force that remained fully intact.
Well… there was one more.
Marquis Branford spoke slowly.
"Countess Rayfold… has expressed willingness to join us."
"Rayfold? Amelia Rayfold?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"Wasn't she suspected of having close ties with the late Count Desmond?"
"The duchy's nobles have largely abandoned her. She likely doesn't want to antagonize the four great churches."
"Hm…."
The prime minister nodded. Rayfold's involvement carried a certain significance.
"What are her conditions?"
Amelia had been widely criticized by many nobles for usurping her father's position without legitimate justification.
Despite protests and threats, she had remained defiant and unyielding. For her to voluntarily step forward now meant she wanted something.
"She seeks royal recognition… and an eastern territory."
"What?"
The prime minister's white eyebrows twitched.
The request for royal recognition was obvious—it meant she wanted no more disputes over her succession.
But asking for an eastern territory was a different matter.
"Doesn't she already hold the most prosperous land in the north? Why would she ask for a territory in the distant east?"
"Her intentions are unclear. She says we don't need to take land from other lords for her."
"Then?"
"If there are lands affected by Rifts or currently held by the duchy, she'll claim those herself."
"Hmm… what is she planning? Does she even have the capability?"
Though Amelia was still the subject of gossip and disdain, some held her in high regard.
Among them was Marquis Branford.
"If she were ordinary, she wouldn't have taken control of Rayfold."
"Hmph… if you believe in her, then I'll trust your judgment. Do as you see fit."
"Understood."
This so-called meeting was effectively a formality. By the time Marquis Branford discussed something with the prime minister, it was already decided.
If he had intended to reject the offer, he wouldn't have brought it to the prime minister in the first place.
With a significant force still intact in the east, it was unclear where Amelia's confidence came from. But gaining her support without any immediate concessions was a significant advantage for the Royalists.
If the duchy failed to hold its gains, or the Royalists managed to reclaim lands lost to Rifts, Amelia would have nothing left to take.
The prime minister struggled to rise from his seat and said, "I understand the situation. Focus on eliminating the Rifts as quickly as possible. This is an emergency—there's no need for royal approval. Act as my proxy and take full command."
"Understood."
Marquis Branford nodded as if it were the most natural thing. It was how he had always done things—this only removed one extra layer of procedure.
The elderly prime minister, supported by knights, began to walk away.
As he was leaving, he suddenly stopped and turned back.
"And there's no good in a husband and wife being apart for so long. You're getting older too—how about living a little more gently?"
"…I'll keep that in mind."
The other nobles watching barely held back their laughter.
Marquis Branford's wife had returned to her family, unable to endure his personality. The prime minister was openly admonishing his son-in-law.
Only the prime minister would dare say such a thing to the Iron-Blooded Marquis.
Bang!
As soon as the prime minister left, Marquis Branford slammed his hand on the desk—a signal to focus.
"From this moment forward, eliminating the Rifts will be our top priority. We can't fight with an enemy at our back."
Maurice, crossing his arms, asked, "Are we really going to leave only minimal forces to guard against the duchy?"
"For now, we have no choice. We don't know when they'll move."
It seemed likely they would act soon, but if they didn't?
While the army waited on the front lines, the Rifts would expand, throwing territories into chaos.
The Royalist faction found itself in a dilemma. The Salvation Church's plan to use the Rifts to delay and buy time was working perfectly.
The Royalists had no choice but to handle internal matters first and then respond to the duchy if they moved.
"Quickly reorganize any forces that have suffered losses to the Rifts and move all territorial armies to encircle the Rifts. Leave no gaps."
"But the monsters have superhuman strength. Territorial forces alone will suffer massive casualties. And we can't leave the capital undefended."
The kingdom's strongest forces had to stay in the capital. Not only was there the constant threat of assassination attempts from the duchy, but the capital was also the heart of the Royalist faction and their last bastion.
Marquis Branford nodded in agreement.
"We'll have to leave it to Count Fenris."
"As expected, that's our only option?"
'We'll handle encircling the Rifts and holding back the Riftborn, but dealing with the monsters is best left to Count Fenris and his knights.'
"But he's not one to do it for free, is he?"
"There's no helping it. We'll have to give him whatever he wants."
Looking around at the gathered nobles, Marquis Branford continued, "This is a wartime situation, so we'll authorize Count Fenris to activate his authority as commander of the northern army. Additionally, he'll have full authority over handling the Rifts. Provide him with anything he needs, and agree to whatever compensation he demands. Understood?"
The Royalist nobles unanimously agreed to the marquis's proposal.
Minimizing casualties and stopping the Rifts from expanding meant relying on Count Fenris, a master.
***
After inspecting the situation in the west, Ghislain returned to his territory. By that time, Fenris was fully prepared for war.
For them, preparing for war was second nature—like breathing.
Clang, clang.
As Ghislain strode quickly through his territory, knights in full armor followed closely behind him.
Gordon cautiously approached and asked, "Are you really planning to use… that man?"
"Yes, that's why I went to such trouble to keep him alive. Did you see me cut him down like I usually do?"
"Now that you mention it, no. You were unusually restrained—I wondered why at the time."
Gordon and the other knights nodded at Ghislain's words.
In every battle they'd seen, when Ghislain killed someone, it was never clean.
He would crush their skulls, sever their heads, or destroy their hearts—utterly annihilating them so thoroughly that not even a necromancer could bring them back.
His blade was notoriously merciless.
But this time had been different. He had been unusually gentle, leaving his opponent alive, albeit barely.
Still concerned, Gordon asked, "Isn't it a bit risky? He was an enemy. If someone that skilled stabs us in the back, it could get messy. He's practically a sworn enemy."
Ghislain chuckled.
"He doesn't strike me as the type. Could you live your life obsessing over honor and appearances like he does?"
"No."
Gordon answered firmly. Worrying about every little thing would make life unbearable.
If anything, loyalty was the only thing worth holding onto.
Ghislain patted Gordon's shoulder, laughing.
"With talents like his, he has a lot to atone for. Let him make amends before he dies."
"Sure, but what if he tries to make a scene about wanting to die again?" Gordon asked.
Ghislain's expression turned cold.
"He won't even die without my permission."
Their destination was a dungeon located in a remote corner of the territory.
It was reserved for the worst of the worst—those too vile to be sent even to the labor corps. Ghislain had spared these individuals to use them for the most dangerous tasks.
Deep within the underground prison, one man was confined.
Creak.
The thick door opened, and the prisoner inside slowly lifted his head.
When their eyes met, Ghislain greeted him cheerfully.
"Hey, how's it going? Feeling better? Fully recovered yet?"
Inside the dark cell sat a man wrapped in bandages, missing one arm. He remained silent, staring at Ghislain.
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