Chapter 522
You can just check the contract, can't you? (2)
Claude spoke again to Ereneth, whose mind seemed momentarily broken.
“No, I don’t think you understand... The Great Chieftain has to work with us for thirty years.”
“W-What? Why?”
Ereneth stuttered, completely caught off guard. For the noble Great Chieftain of the elves, such an absurd situation was an absolute first.
Claude shouted.
“Why? Because that’s what the contract says!”
“……”
“You can just check the contract, can't you?”
Rumble!
From the ground, intertwining tree roots shot up, quickly spreading out and producing a scroll.
Snap!
Ereneth hastily unrolled the contract, her expression urgent. And finally, she saw it.
Written in tiny letters—thirty years.
“W-What is this…?”
She whipped her head around to glare at Ghislain. He merely shrugged, widening his eyes as if clueless.
‘Come to think of it…’
Ghislain had only skimmed through the contract before signing it. He had no idea what had happened either.
‘When I read the first contract, there was nothing like this. Don’t tell me…’
That bastard Claude had distracted her with his endless chatter, completely throwing her off. Then, he had claimed there were some strange doodles and handed her a second contract.
She had been too exhausted to read through it properly. She had just signed it without a second glance.
That was it. That was when he pulled this trick.
Ereneth turned to Claude, shouting.
“You scammed me, didn’t you?!”
Claude, looking just as wronged, shot back.
“What do you mean?! You looked at the contract! It’s not like I held a sword to your throat and forced you to sign it!”
He wasn’t wrong. In the end, she had signed it herself. But she absolutely could not accept this.
“Y-You little…!”
Who would have thought—an arrogant human deceiving her, the noble Great Chieftain of the elves! In all her long years, nothing like this had ever happened.
Ereneth, unable to contain her fury, began gathering her energy.
Rumble, rumble, rumble!
The sheer force of her power caused the entire royal castle to tremble. At that moment, knights who had been waiting outside burst into the room.
“Are you all right, Your Grace, Duuuuuuke!”
The northern bumpkins had finally made it to the capital and were now serving the new Grand Duke, their spirits high with pride.
Ghislain rubbed his temples and waved them away.
“Agh, stop being so dramatic. Ereneth, calm down for a second. If you keep this up, the castle is going to collapse.”
“Ugh… Uuuuugh….”
Ereneth reined in her power, though her glare remained fixed on Claude.
Honestly, she could just ignore the contract. She had enough authority and strength to do so.
And really, this was halfway to fraud.
She could simply ask Ghislain to nullify the contract. That had been her plan.
But then, there was him. That infuriating little human muttering in the corner.
“I knew this would happen. Always going on about how ‘Great Nature guarantees’ or whatever, but now she won’t even acknowledge a contract she personally signed? Ugh, you really can’t trust anyone in this world… not even elves… mumble, mumble, mumble…”
“Ugh… Uuuuuuugh….”
Her headache was back.
That bastard talks too much.
It was driving her insane.
But she had, in fact, signed the contract. Ignoring it completely would be like breaking a promise made to Great Nature itself.
If word got out that the Great Chieftain of the elves had signed a contract and refused to honor it, it would spread across the human world like wildfire.
And that bastard would definitely exaggerate the story with his obnoxious mouth.
“Ugh…”
Ereneth clutched her head.
‘Thirty years?!’
To her, it wasn’t an unbearable amount of time, but with everything going on, she couldn’t afford to be tied down for thirty whole years.
‘Humans really are… a wretched species. Especially that one.’
Claude was downright vile.
The moment she had first seen him, she had sensed a murky, death-like energy—like a pit of quicksand dragging everything into the abyss.
As cold sweat trickled down her temples, Ereneth rolled her eyes around in distress before finally forcing herself to speak.
“Haa… Haa… Haa….”
Claude sensed the shift in her energy and immediately pounced.
“Haa what?”
Ereneth squeezed her eyes shut and muttered.
“…Give me… a vacation.”
“Of course! That much is reasonable. You’re a national hero, after all.”
Claude’s generous reply made Ereneth snap her eyes open to glare at him.
‘This bastard…’
Suddenly, Claude seemed huge in her eyes.
That smug, victorious grin on his face made him look downright demonic.
No wonder the ancestors had warned them to stay away from humans.
Ereneth locked eyes with Claude and spoke.
“Thirty years from now, you will face my wrath.”
Claude nodded with a relaxed smile.
“Well, I’m just following the rules… But if the Great Chieftain dislikes me, feel free to do as you please. I’ll always be ready to accept it.”
‘Yeah, I just have to die in twenty-nine years - no way I’m spending over three hundred years as a slave.’
That was Claude’s honest thought.
Ereneth gritted her teeth and then swiftly turned around. She had to go fill out her vacation request.
The one who had to approve that request? None other than Claude, the Chief Overseer.
—
Ereneth, having received permission for her vacation, left the castle to take care of some business. Many people came to see her off, but among them, Parniel followed her the farthest.
“What is it? You didn’t have to see me off this far.”
At Ereneth’s words, Parniel suddenly spoke in a cryptic manner.
“They say the Holy Maiden’s will is the will of the Goddess.”
“I know.”
In truth, it was a phrase created to justify the Saintess’s unpredictable actions, reinforcing the authority of the church.
But Parniel seemed to believe in it wholeheartedly. She grinned.
“From the moment I first saw you, I’ve had this strange urge to fight you.”
“I have no intention of fighting you. Such meaningless things don’t interest me.”
“I know. But… I still feel like we’ll end up fighting one day. My heart keeps telling me so. I just wanted to let you know.”
“……”
Ereneth glanced at Parniel. The two locked eyes, staring at each other.
After a moment, Ereneth shook her head a few times and turned away.
“I hope that never happens. I wouldn’t want to kill the Saintess.”
Her tone emphasized the title Saintess.
Parniel smiled in response.
“But I really want to fight you.”
Ereneth didn’t reply. She simply walked away without looking back.
Parniel watched her retreating figure for a long time. Once Ereneth had completely disappeared from view, she murmured to herself.
“If you really are that elf mentioned in the secret records of the church…”
—
A land where battles never ceased, as monsters endlessly swarmed down from the Shadow Mountains.
Ever since Ghislain had fought in Ironcliff Fortress and returned, Kaor and his hunters had been gathering vast amounts of monster hides from the area and sending them back to the Ritania Kingdom.
Kaor had earned himself a nickname—Leather King of Ironcliff.
Before Ritania's civil war, Ironcliff had served as a stronghold against the monster hordes. Now, it lay empty. And it wasn’t just Ironcliff—other fortresses were in the same state.
“Kyaaaaaah!”
“Guaaaah!”
Frenzied monsters shrieked and rampaged, storming through the abandoned fortresses, racing toward the heart of the kingdom.
But they couldn’t reach their target. A dense blue mist blocked their way, forming a barrier.
A rift had opened in the middle of their path to the capital.
And so, a ridiculous situation unfolded—monsters from the Shadow Mountains were now fighting against Riftspawn.
Because of this, some of the rifts could be left alone, their monsters occupied. But not all of them.
“Hold the line!”
“We have to hold out no matter what!”
“Damn it, why are there so many?!”
The soldiers fought desperately to contain the spread of the rifts.
The Turian Kingdom had assembled an elite force of the strongest warriors to deal with the rifts. Until they arrived, it was up to the other soldiers to hold the line.
Despite their determination, the commanders couldn’t hide their growing despair.
“This is bad… We don’t have enough supplies or reinforcements.”
“The royal castle itself is barely holding against the enemy.”
The rifts weren’t the only problem. The nobles who had conspired with the Salvation Church had long been preparing for rebellion.
Now, those nobles had raised their armies, launching revolts all over the kingdom. As a result, Turian’s forces were spread thin.
Though the monster threat gave Turian a slight advantage compared to other kingdoms, they were still engulfed in chaos.
“Our kingdom is doomed.”
That was the thought lingering in every commander’s mind.
Turian had never been a prosperous nation to begin with. They were so desperate for manpower that they had even recruited criminals from other countries to become hunters.
Even without the rifts and rebellions, just dealing with the monster hordes had pushed them to their limits.
Turian wasn’t even included in the Allied Army. They lacked the resources to send reinforcements.
Their soldiers were growing weary, forced to fight both Riftspawn and rebels without rest.
If they could at least eat their fill, it might have been bearable. But the kingdom’s treasury was already drained.
‘This is too much…’
‘Maybe it’d be easier to just die.’
‘Why was I even born into a world like this…?’
At first, they held onto hope. They waited for a hero to appear and save them.
But now, even such dreams have become a luxury. Living was no different from merely failing to die.
Despair was contagious, spreading rapidly across the entire kingdom.
People began taking their own lives in increasing numbers, and more nobles chose to surrender to the rebels.
Thus, the Turian Kingdom was slowly collapsing.
At that moment, a man appeared.
A man with jet-black hair and eyes as dark as the abyss. His skin was as pale as snow, as if he had never once been touched by sunlight.
His face, seemingly sculpted by the gods themselves, bore not a trace of a smile. His cold expression, utterly devoid of emotion, made it difficult for anyone to approach him.
Srrrrrng...
The man drew his sword. A piercing blue light shimmered along the blade.
The elderly man accompanying him lowered his head slightly and spoke.
"Your Highness, are you truly leaving this tower?"
"I am no prince. Do not call me that."
"…Understood."
The man had long been the hidden heir to the kingdom.
From a young age, he had displayed an extraordinary talent for swordsmanship. His body was said to be blessed by mana, possessing unnatural strength.
Even without learning Mana Refinement Technique, mana had naturally accumulated within him since birth. As he grew older, he even modified the royal family's Mana Refinement Technique to suit his own body—a true prodigy.
But he was abandoned by the royal family.
For the king loathed him with every fiber of his being.
From the moment of his birth, the king's hatred toward him had been uncontrollable, almost deranged. People assumed it was simply because the queen had died giving birth to him.
Not wanting to draw the king's ire, everyone distanced themselves from the boy and remained silent. As time passed, ominous rumors spread, and more people began to view him with unease, growing to despise him without reason.
Assassination attempts on his life were made—attempts sanctioned by his own father.
Yet, the boy survived them all, his remarkable talent allowing him to evade every attempt on his life. But in doing so, he also closed his heart.
Eventually, he relinquished his claim to the throne to his half-brother and confined himself to the royal tower.
He met no one. He formed no attachments.
His days were spent in silence—reading books and honing his swordsmanship.
That was the only way he could live in peace.
But now, after all that time, he had finally decided to step back into the world.
His sole attendant, the elderly man, spoke again, his expression heavy with concern.
"His Majesty will not stand idly by."
"It doesn’t matter."
It was said that monsters now roamed freely across the land.
Even though he had severed his ties with the world, he could not ignore such news.
He simply wanted to save people.
And so, with nothing but a single sword in hand, he stepped beyond the tower walls.
He entered the Rift, alone, and began to fight.
Keaaaaargh!
The Riftspawns were no match for him.
Anything his sword touched disintegrated into dust.
But no matter how strong he was, he could not single-handedly eradicate the endless tide of Riftspawn.
He fought, sustained injuries, returned to recover, and entered the Rift again—repeating the cycle endlessly.
The soldiers stationed at the defensive line clicked their tongues at the sight.
"He's insane."
"Why the hell is he doing something so suicidal?"
"I get that he's skilled, but he'll be dead soon enough at this rate."
No army came to his aid, even after learning his identity.
No one wanted to be associated with him.
Some even thought it would be better if he simply perished inside the Rift—after all, they knew he was the prince abandoned by the royal family.
But the man didn't care.
He had always been alone. Nothing had changed.
And so, he continued his silent battle against the Rift.
He fought.
And fought.
And fought again.
Even when his body was covered in wounds and drenched in blood.
Even when exhaustion threatened to consume him.
He fought for days on end.
And then, something changed.
The soldiers, moved by his relentless struggle, began to gather around him.
They treated his wounds.
They offered him food.
Keaaaaang!
And at last, after an arduous battle that lasted half a day, the man severed Equidema’s head.
Before the Blue Mist had even fully dissipated, he dragged Equidema’s corpse out of the Rift.
To give people hope.
It was a feat of unimaginable magnitude.
No one on the continent had ever single-handedly conquered a Rift before.
Overcome with awe, the soldiers knelt before him.
In his past life, this man had been known by this title—
The Savior.
And...
The first among the Seven Strongest on the Continent.
The Greatest Sword on the Continent.