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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Cyno
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Boom! Thud!
At that moment, a massive explosion rocked the grand hall, blasting the entrance doors apart. Caught off guard, the ministers scrambled for cover, while Emperor Yosrahim, hunched in terror, widened his eyes in shock.
Soon after, dozens of armored imperial knights stormed in through the side doors, surrounding the emperor and drawing their swords in his defense.
“Treason!”
“Protect His Majesty!”
Then, bathed in the spring sunlight, an unkempt old man with white hair stepped into the grand hall. His stature and face were unremarkable, yet he strode in with an air of ease, casually brushing dust off his sleeves as if the imperial court were nothing more than a common street.
But the expressions of the knights shielding the emperor were anything but relaxed. Their hands trembled as they gripped their swords, their faces pale with fear.
This seemingly ordinary, shabby old man was none other than Grand Duke Cloud.
“Your Majesty. A vast empire inevitably breeds many enemies.”
Emperor Yosrahim instinctively rose from his throne. He didn’t know why the Grand Duke was furious, but one wrong move here could cost him his head. Sixty years ago, this very man had carved his way through a hundred thousand imperial guards and knights to storm the palace and behead the tyrant Emperor Rotfze—the strongest swordsman in human history.
“Grand Duke…?”
“Why did you not tell me?”
The Grand Duke’s eyes burned with fury as he took slow, deliberate steps forward. With each footfall, the marble floor cracked and shattered. The emperor stumbled backward, retreating from his throne.
“Tell you what?”
“Your Majesty. Did you think this old man would live forever?”
“……”
“Or that this empire would last a thousand years?”
“……”
“Then why, after my death, did you allow the heavens’ chosen talent to perish?”
“Whom do you speak of?”
Grand Duke Cloud shook his head.
“Your Majesty. An empire may be vast, but true talents are rare. After I die, who will stop the Great Orc Hero Grolmog? Who will suppress the seeds of rebellion lurking within the empire?”
“B-But our empire has nearly forty Master Swordsmen!”
The Grand Duke’s lips curled into a shadowed smile.
“Hoho. The world calls us Mind Masters—transcendent beings. But that’s only because they’ve never faced us in battle. Forty Master Swordsmen, you say? With all due respect, to Grolmog, they are but a handful of sand.”
“Grand Duke…?”
“Your Majesty. Why did you let Yan die? That boy was the only one who could have succeeded me.”
Emperor Yosrahim frantically waved his hands. So this was why the old monster had come—Yan’s death.
“G-Grand Duke! I, too, grieve Yan’s death! But there was nothing I could do! My nephew caused a great disturbance at the Divine Temple, and before I could intervene, the Great Saintess of Flames invoked divine punishment! Had there been any way to save him, I would have! He was the only son of my beloved sister! Do you think I would have stood by if I could have acted?”
“Oh? Is that so?”
The Grand Duke’s hand brushed the hilt of his sword, and the emperor flinched violently.
“Grand Duke…! I will issue a decree across the empire to gather all talented young swordsmen! Among them, there must be a genius equal to Yan—you can personally select and train them to become the empire’s pillars! Would that not suffice?”
Grand Duke Cloud let out a hollow laugh, his gaze drifting into the air.
“Your Majesty. Becoming a Master is not just about talent. One must find their own path—only then can they ascend. That is why, to those under forty, the wall of Mastery seems an insurmountable realm.”
“What do you mean? I do not understand.”
The Grand Duke’s smile turned lethal.
“Your Majesty. Did you think the emperor I killed was the only one?”
A chill ran down Yosrahim’s spine.
“That…?”
“And do you know why Emperor Siegfried passed so young?”
“I… do not know.”
“Then allow me to enlighten you. To reach Mastery at such a tender age, one must endure hellish trials—weeping tears of blood, screaming in agony. And you dare think mere ‘geniuses’ can comprehend my teachings? We speak a language only we understand!”
With a roar, Grand Duke Cloud stepped right before the emperor and drew his sword—still sheathed. Duke Karl hastily intervened, spreading his arms wide to block him.
“Grand Duke Cloud! What madness is this before His Majesty?!”
Cloud paused, eyeing Karl with an inscrutable gaze.
“Ah, Duke Karl.”
“Indeed!”
“You raised your son well. To think you nurtured such a young boy into a Master. Tsk, tsk.”
The strange inflection in Cloud’s voice made Karl’s face flush red.
“How dare you?!”
“At least the rumors of your integrity are true. Though whether you’re cunning or simply clueless…”
Cloud’s gaze flicked past Karl to the cowering emperor behind him.
“What are you implying?”
“You’re the most dangerous one here. Then again, the Karl Kingdom was the hardest to conquer.”
Duke Karl’s eyes twitched. His family descended from the Karl Kingdom, which Grand Duke Cloud had annihilated. Now, the old man was implying treason.
“Enough of this slander! My loyalty to the Yosrahim Imperial Family is absolute!”
“Hoh. Since when do human hearts obey words?”
“What?!”
Grand Duke Cloud turned away.
“Human life is like a river—when it meets adversity, it twists and turns. That is inevitable. Heh.”
“Grand Duke Cloud!”
“Duke Karl. Remember one thing.”
“And what is that?”
“No matter how much a river twists, it always flows to the sea. So don’t struggle too hard.”
“……”
Cloud resumed walking, his footsteps cracking the floor. Without looking back, he shouted to the emperor:
“Your Majesty! I grant you three years! Prepare an army of one million and two years’ worth of war funds and provisions! Then I will march into the Orc Plains myself and bring you Grolmog’s head! Understood?”
The emperor’s face paled. Even for the empire, a million soldiers was impossible. Troops could be conscripted, but the astronomical cost of war was unimaginable.
“A million?! That would require the full cooperation of the nobility—it’s unthinkable otherwise!”
“Then name those who oppose it. I will personally visit and… persuade them.”
The threat was worse than death. Emperor Yosrahim shook his head frantically.
“I-I will do my best!”
“Do not take this lightly. In three years, one head will roll—be it Grolmog’s or that of an incompetent emperor.”
The emperor’s face drained of color. There was no choice. He had to raise the army and funds.
“U-Understood… I will prepare it.”
“Then I leave it in your hands, Your Majesty.”
As Grand Duke Cloud strode out of the hall, he sighed quietly. The empire’s fate hung by a thread, yet those in power remained blissfully ignorant.
‘Grolmog…’
Orcs revered strength, flocking to the powerful. Already, they had united under the Great Hero Grolmog, eyeing the empire’s lands. The only reason they hadn’t moved yet was Grolmog’s wariness of Cloud himself.
But alas, Cloud was slowly dying. His internal mana crumbled day by day, his vitality waning. In this state, he wouldn’t last another decade.
Of course, if he attained Soul Mastery, he could reverse his decline. But sixty years of effort had taught him one truth: that realm was beyond human reach. Humans could neither see nor feel the soul.
Soon, he would answer the heavens’ call.
‘Yan… If only that boy had lived…’
Unlike ordinary Masters, Yan had reached Mastery as a mere youth. Such a feat was impossible without enduring life’s cruelest trials and grasping its deepest truths. He didn’t just wield a sword—he understood it, transcending philosophy itself.
With Yan, this crisis could have been averted. The boy would have comprehended Cloud’s teachings.
Cloud had planned to spend his final years imparting all he knew to Yan, then fake his own death to buy time. Grolmog, having lived a similar life, would have feared Yan’s existence. Meanwhile, Cloud would have leveraged Saiydes of the Lumen Kingdom, one of the continent’s three greatest swordsmen, to keep Grolmog in check. Once Yan ascended to Mind Mastery, even Grolmog would struggle against two of them.
But Yan had died before blooming. A tragedy that made Cloud want to scream at the heavens.
Now, if Cloud died, it was over. Saiydes was no match for Grolmog. The former was a low-tier Mind Master, while the latter was a high-tier berserker who had long surpassed that realm.
The only silver lining was the recent rise of three Great Saintesses among the forces of light. But that was a stopgap at best. Even wielding the Seven Sacred Relics, they stood no chance against Grolmog, who could strike from unseen places and turn everything into a weapon.
Only a Mind Master could oppose a Mind Master. The Seven Sacred Relics were little more than tools for slaughtering the weak.
Now, only one path remained: Cloud himself would lead an army into the northern Orc Plains and behead Grolmog, no matter the cost. Without their leader, the orcs would fracture into infighting, leaving the empire alone.
Even if he succeeded, the embers of rebellion within the empire would remain. But that was a problem for its rulers to solve.
Cloud had done all he could.
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