Chapter 141
To place hope in a single child.
As an adult, as a king, and as a man, the king found himself utterly pathetic.
Yet, he could not forget the visage of that incarnation of violence.
A massive frame, inherited from the blood of the giants. Naturally blessed with formidable, resilient muscles.
A mind that not only hesitated not at destruction but found pleasure in slaughter.
A wild, innate power worthy of being called a divine skill.
Any one of these traits, if directed correctly, would undoubtedly be effective against monsters.
But when faced with that presence—standing behind Duke Boltolinde, his eyes devoid of even a shred of respect—the king saw it clearly.
The eerie flames dwelling within those eyes.
The unmistakable spark that would burn this kingdom to the ground.
The battle displayed during the debut was nothing more than a spectacle of raw brutality.
No technique, no finesse—just sheer physical prowess wielded like a weapon. An overwhelming force that could only be described as pure violence.
One by one, trained soldiers fell, each defeat further cementing the beast’s legend.
With every victory, the king found it harder to voice his denial.
He is a danger to this kingdom.
If only he had the courage to say those words. The king nearly lamented that the heroic blood running through his veins had gone stagnant.
If things continued like this, this nation would be ruled by serpents and monsters.
Even the king knew he could not afford to ignore this fear.
After witnessing that carnage, he raced to prepare countermeasures, terrified that such absolute power might one day be turned against them.
The catalyst was a rumor among the soldiers—an outlandish tale about a single child conquering the Wind Dragon’s Dungeon.
By the time the rumor reached the king’s ears, it had already begun to fade, dismissed as nonsense.
At the time, the king was preoccupied with how to handle the ever-strengthening monster. He scoffed at the absurdity of it but found himself unable to forget the story.
Had he been his usual cowardly self, he would have turned away and buried it in oblivion.
But the harder he tried to forget, the more it clung to his mind—as if some divine voice demanded he remember.
“Chancellor.” “Yes.” “Investigate. Confirm its truth.”
The result earned the displeasure of Duke Edelgard, an ally.
Yet, coward though he was, the king could not abandon his duty. Deep down, he was glad he had looked into the child.
From his seat, the king watched the boy’s battle—how he effortlessly crushed soldier after soldier, securing victory in moments.
The last opponent was one of Duke Boltolinde’s men, a Class 4 warrior by the king’s recollection. Skilled, with experience clearing multiple dungeons.
And that boy forced even him to surrender.
“Your Majesty, what do you think of Liberta’s abilities?” “He truly isn’t of the dwarven race?” “I confirmed it with him directly. There’s no mistake.”
A veteran dwarven warrior would never wield a weapon like a maul. Perhaps an eccentric might, but neither the king nor the chancellor could recall any dwarven fighter who did.
Duke Edelgard, who had been observing, approached the king and chancellor to ask their thoughts on Liberta’s performance.
“If that’s the case, then his potential is terrifying. A child with such power—what kind of monster will he become when he grew up ?”
After verifying the premise of the question, the king leaned back in his chair, convinced. He voiced his honest impression to Duke Edelgard:
“Duke, I hear that boy is under your protection.” “Yes. By fate’s design, we’ve established a favorable relationship.”
The king’s true intent was to propose that the boy serve the royal family, betting on his potential. But before he could speak, the chancellor—reading his liege’s will—stepped in, only for Duke Edelgard to preemptively shut it down.
Among nobles, “a favorable relationship” was code for *lay a finger on him, and there will be consequences.*
It also carried the implicit warning: *Don’t interfere, scavengers."
“With talent like his, the royal family would very much like to forge ties.” “He is an orphan, uneducated. The honor of meeting Your Majesty is already more than he deserves. Anything further would be excessive.”
Still, the chancellor pressed forward—only to be politely, yet firmly, refused.
It was clear Duke Edelgard hadn’t desired this stage either. He likely resented being forced into the spotlight through underhanded means.
The king wished to avoid worsening relations, but as royalty, he couldn’t simply back down when faced with a golden opportunity.
A glance passed between the king and his chancellor. Duke Edelgard didn’t miss it.
“I understand Your Majesty’s thoughts. However, the time is not yet right. I promise you will have your satisfaction—but for now, I ask for your patience.”
Before the king could act, Duke Edelgard offered a vow, sealing any further moves.
“Time is not a luxury I possess.”
The king could trust those words—but as a ruler, he doubted he had that much leeway. He would let it go for now, but not without a condition.
“Your consideration is appreciated.”
With that, the conversation with Duke Edelgard ended. By then, the training grounds had emptied.
“Your Majesty.”
No sooner had Duke Edelgard left than Duke Boltolinde appeared.
Currently styling himself as the hero’s patron, he was the most influential noble in court.
Suppressing the knot in his stomach, the king greeted him with a forced smile.
“What did you and Duke Edelgard discuss?”
Already probing?
The king couldn’t afford to sound defensive.
“Nothing of consequence. I merely wondered where he found such a child. He claimed it was mere chance.” “Is that so? Duke Edelgard does enjoy his secrets.”
The reply was evasive, but not a lie.
You’re one to talk about secrets, the king thought, nodding silently.
“Perhaps. Tell me, Duke Boltolinde—what do you make of that boy?”
He changed the subject.
No doubt Duke Boltolinde had come to gauge the boy named Liberta. Had he been able, he would have joined the earlier conversation to extract information.
But Duke Edelgard had swiftly ended the discussion and left with Liberta.
Now, the king turned the question to the man who should have been the most threatened by the boy’s potential.
“I believe the kingdom’s future is bright. Who knew such talent existed outside our ranks?” “Oh? For you to praise him so.” “Indeed. I handpicked those soldiers. I never imagined they’d lose. I must instruct my men to train harder.”
The king had expected denial. Instead, Duke Boltolinde smiled faintly, beginning with praise. What is he plotting?
“Don’t you agree, Your Majesty?” “Indeed. It’s heartening to see fresh talent, but relying solely on the young is unbecoming of us.” “Quite so.”
The words were harmless, but coming from Duke Boltolinde, they carried hidden meaning. His very nature bred suspicion.
What does he see through those narrowed eyes?
The king knew his own hesitations were transparent. All he could do was choose his words carefully, avoiding any openings.
“Thus, I request permission to dispatch troops for training.”
So this is it.
But this man always hid schemes within schemes.
“You just returned from suppressing bandits, did you not? And before that as well. Overzealousness in pursuing merit is unseemly.”
A flat refusal would only drive him to act in the shadows. So the king opted for admonishment instead.
Duke Boltolinde was raising a monster—Jackaran. To that end, he “resolved” various incidents.
The latter, at least, was something the king could appreciate. Since the duke funded his own campaigns, the royal coffers remained untouched.
But to stand idle as a monster grew was unacceptable.
The king subtly suggested he leave matters to others.
In that instant, Duke Boltolinde’s eyes flashed.
“Understood. I apologize for overstepping. I shall leave this matter to those appointed by Your Majesty.”
As if waiting for this very moment, Duke Boltolinde produced a parchment and presented it to the king.
A guard took it, passing it to the chancellor, who read its contents.
“This—” “A report from my men. I deemed it urgent. The eastern granary region—there are signs of disturbance. The area borders both royal territory and the lands of Duke Marchias, who has already granted permission. All that remains is Your Majesty’s approval for immediate action.”
So he anticipated being blocked and prepared this.
The king grimaced internally as the chancellor reviewed the document, found no issues, and handed it to him.
“Signs of abnormal Hopping Soldier proliferation…”
The contents were dire.
Frowning, the king acknowledged that if true, troops would be necessary.
“Why is Duke Boltolinde handling this and not Duke Marchias?” “Duke Marchias is occupied with eastern trade. Fortunately, no issues plague his northern lands, so I thought we allies might assist one another.”
The trouble lay in the east, not the north. Sending troops there was blatant overreach.
The chancellor eyed the move warily, but with Duke Marchias’s approval—and now the king’s—there was no room to object.
And with the duke framing it as noble cooperation, further scrutiny was impossible.
Nobles uniting was the last thing the royal family wanted.
Their combined strength could easily surpass the crown’s, making governance impossible.
The mere hint of north-east collaboration made the king and chancellor’s stomachs churn.
But downing a potion in front of dukes and soldiers was out of the question.
“…Very well. I’ll take charge of this matter. We’ll discuss and act swiftly.” “With Your Majesty leading, I am at ease. I leave it in your hands.”
The king forced the words out through sheer will.
Duke Boltolinde’s motives were suspect, but the king and chancellor couldn’t openly dismiss his claims.
Was this request truly his only purpose here?
With no further discussion, the duke bowed and departed.
“Your Majesty, how shall we proceed?” “…Keep watch. Just in case.” “Understood.”
Watching his retreating back, the king and chancellor exchanged quiet words laced with meaning.
Nothing will come of it. The king sighed at the man’s meticulousness, then turned his gaze back to the parchment.
Signs of large-scale combat imminent.
“What is Duke Marchias thinking?”
The granary region was one of the kingdom’s lifelines. To leave it vulnerable was unthinkable.
Is there more to this?
The king considered investigating but hesitated—his already overworked intelligence network couldn’t handle more.
In the end, the crown would have to act.
“…”
Suddenly, he thought of Liberta, who had been fighting in the training grounds moments ago.
Could he handle this?
“…Hah. What am I thinking?”
The king laughed bitterly at his own recklessness. To even consider relying on a child—
“It seems I’ll be working late tonight.”
He resigned himself to a long night of calculations.