Chapter 66: Subjugation of Blackthorn

The royal family formally announced the treachery of Blackthorn and the existence of the mysterious Transcendentals. At the same time, they assured the populace that all necessary preparations had already been completed, so there was no need to worry.

Lastly, they proclaimed that the subjugation of Blackthorn would happen very soon, with the vanguard led by the Great Sword, Arandel Helmut.

Under the leadership of Princess Clarice, all the meticulously planned efforts toppled like dominoes, closing in on Blackthorn.

By the time the news reached them, it was already too late.

The noble armies, centered around Arandel Helmut, had gathered at Blackthorn.

The serfs of the nearby fief under Blackthorn looked as though they were suffering from famine—nothing but skin and bones.

The sky was so dark it appeared as though heavy clouds had set in, and there was no spark of life in the people’s eyes.

Yet, if asked what the problem was, you’d be told that they lived quite comfortably.

Children played and ran about, the granaries were well-stocked, and once every 1~2 weeks, they ate a meal with meat. Life in the villages near Blackthorn was more prosperous than expected. Ironically, that itself was the issue.

Despite leading such a life, their faces were sallow and haggard.

There was a reason why a strict order came down from above not to accept any food from them or to draw water from their wells.

The fact that these people appeared impoverished despite their abundant lifestyle suggested there was something fundamentally amiss.

Once they penetrated deeper into Blackthorn’s territory, they were finally met by those who came out to intercept them. Those standing on the front lines around the domain were none other than Blackthorn’s private soldiers.

They were few in number compared to the kingdom’s forces—so few it seemed insignificant.

However, scattered among them were creatures that clearly were not human.

The Transcendentals brazenly fought alongside them, and they also commanded large and mid-sized beasts.

Blackthorn had prepared as best as they could, but in truth, the power difference was vast. It seemed the Transcendentals had already half given up on Blackthorn.

“…….”

Isaac, standing one step behind, silently observed the battlefield. More precisely, he watched the red-haired man singlehandedly rampaging in the middle of the warzone like a monster.

That man was Arandel Helmut.

His physical body already surpassed that of the Transcendentals.

His specialized aura rendered savage beasts mere livestock.

His colossal greatsword was like a banner dominating the battlefield.

Whenever his greatsword came crashing down,

the tide of battle could be turned, even in unfavorable situations.

Nobles and knights who had grumbled about the might of the Transcendentals could do nothing but clamp their mouths shut.

In the very first battle, Arandel had cut down three Transcendentals. His remark that “they’re pretty fun to slice through” had left a strong impression on Isaac.

“Feeling that itch?”

Standing next to Isaac was Silverna, who grinned as if to say she felt the same. Silverna had joined the Blackthorn Subjugation rather than heading north for Pollu’s revenge, as originally planned.

“Yeah, my hands are itching.”

“Same here. I can’t deny the Great Sword is the real deal.”

Watching Arandel dominate the battlefield like a raging storm, both could only marvel.

It stirred a desire to rush in and start swinging their own swords. One could see why the knights of the kingdom idolized Arandel Helmut’s sword.

[No war would dare break out against him.]

‘The Grandmaster was right.’

Honestly, Isaac had doubts about the rumor that one man alone could deter an entire war. But having witnessed the scene, those doubts vanished.

Arandel’s aura covered nearly a quarter of the already cramped battlefield.

It was a reminder that the title “Great Sword” was not given lightly.

Swift and decisive—

Blackthorn’s front lines and their estate looked no sturdier than a frail skeleton on the brink of collapse.

“Ah, it’s over.”

“…….”

Even so, Arandel Helmut only swung his sword for exactly one hour a day before retreating. In that single hour, an incredible amount of ground was gained, but once it ended, the battlefront remained at a stalemate.

Two days had passed since the start of the Blackthorn Subjugation.

Ironically, the kingdom’s forces still had strength to spare.

“Isaac!”

“Ugh, here he comes again.”

Lohengrin, who had just been wielding his sword by Arandel’s side, came striding over. His eyes were bloodshot, and as if finally warmed up, he huffed and puffed before yelling:

“A duel!”

He shouted the same thing again today.

Before, Rihanna used to stop him. However, she had not joined this subjugation.

Since Isaac—her husband, at least in name—was here, Rihanna had remained at their estate.

“Haa.”

Eventually, Isaac stepped forward. He figured he needed to calm down this boar-like lunatic who couldn’t contain his own strength.

For the record—

After the Sword Festival, in the three duels between Isaac and Lohengrin, Isaac had won all three. Lohengrin had never once managed to defeat him.

“You may use your Red Aura if you wish.”

Isaac calmly set his hand on his sheathed blade as he spoke. Lohengrin waved his greatsword in a wide arc and bellowed:

“Shut up! Are you implying my swordsmanship is inferior to yours?!”

“No, I just figured I could learn some—”

“Shut up! You’re the one who taught me that Helmut’s sword is not fueled by Red Aura alone!”

“Jeez, my ears.”

“Helmut sure has some lungs.”

Silverna folded her arms and let out a sigh.

Ever since that duel, Lohengrin refused to use his Red Aura. He seemed to have realized that his father’s sword was not simply about channeling Red Aura.

Even so, in reality, he still had a long way to go.

“Oh, starting again?”

“Good luck, Lohengrin-nim! Take him down this time!”

“You can do it!”

“When it’s over, can I have a turn?”

Knights and soldiers gathered from all sides. At some point, the matches between Isaac and Lohengrin had turned into a kind of spectacle.

“Shall we begin?”

Isaac, still with his sword in its sheath, placed his hand lightly atop it. Lohengrin neither became angry nor took it as provocation.

He knew better, after his three defeats:

When Isaac’s sword was still sheathed was precisely the most dangerous moment.

****

Princess Clarice had come to realize how different information can be depending on how one experiences it—by running on one’s own legs, feeling it through one’s own skin, and hearing with one’s own ears. Holding onto that insight, she joined this Blackthorn subjugation as well.

However, she was there purely as an observer.

She refrained from making any comments on matters of strategy or tactics; she understood she wasn’t yet ready to involve herself to that extent.

Still, she found it curious that Arandel Helmut only fought for exactly one hour a day.

‘Could there be a reason for that?’

It was somewhat frustrating, but the progress he achieved in that single hour was so remarkable that the royal forces could claim an overwhelming victory with minimal casualties, saving their strength in the process.

They didn’t call him the Great Sword for nothing. Just having Arandel on the battlefield was enough to feel certain of victory.

“Ah.”

Hearing the commotion outside the tent, Princess Clarice stepped out with her guard, Heyrad.

“It’s started again.”

A crowd had formed. On a patch of hard earth devoid of even a single blade of grass, Isaac and Lohengrin Helmut were locked in a duel.

Claaang!

Lohengrin raised his greatsword at a diagonal to block Isaac’s blade. However, a second sword overlapped on top of Isaac’s first one, coming down like a hammer. Lohengrin grimaced under the sudden weight.

“Gaaaar!”

With a fierce shout, Lohengrin Helmut swung his greatsword in a wide arc, scattering Isaac’s blades. In that same instant—

Isaac abandoned both swords and rushed in close.

“He comes up with something new every time I watch him.”

“So true.”

Heyrad, her guard, mumbled in awe, and Princess Clarice nodded.

Who would dare throw away their weapons and charge headlong at a Helmut?

Yet that was exactly what Isaac did.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

A rapid series of hits rang out. Lohengrin’s eyes widened in shock.

Temple, philtrum, solar plexus—

These were vital points on a human body. Regardless of how powerful the Helmut bloodline might be, they were still human.

Lohengrin, coughing and spitting up saliva, glared at Isaac. He tried to speak, but the pain was so intense he seemed unable to move his tongue. Isaac gave a crooked grin and nodded.

“As expected of the mighty Helmut. Normally, this combo would kill someone from cardiac arrest, not just leave them gasping.”

“You—khugh! Ghaaak!”

“Man, I envy that sturdy body! Hup!!”

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Watching Lohengrin topple backward, Princess Clarice let out a small sniff.

“He really must be harboring quite a bit of pent-up frustration toward the Helmut.”

“But, Your Highness, are you sure it’s okay to let this go on?”

“Hm?”

With a somewhat grave expression, Heyrad nodded toward the duel.

“Isn’t it risky for people to see the eldest son of the Helmut family brought down so easily?”

“Well, it’s not like I can stop them now.”

Even so, Princess Clarice wasn’t leaving things entirely to chance.

On the contrary—

“I’ve realized something from this. There’s too much power concentrated in Helmut.”

“…….”

“Yes, they’re capable, and the Helmut truly are remarkable. But depending too heavily on Helmut alone isn’t a good look for the kingdom.”

Just consider the situation now.

What if Arandel had thrown in his lot with Galenia and sided with the Transcendentals? The thought was spine-chilling.

“This is the perfect time for a generational shift. I think the circumstances are ideal.”

Princess Clarice smiled.

“Heyrad, have you ever heard that the number three symbolizes balance?”

She continued without waiting for an answer:

“Rihanna Helmut, Silverna Caldias, and—”

Isaac.

These were the three new pillars Princess Clarice envisioned taking over after Arandel Helmut, shaping the next generation of the kingdom.

“I think they’ll become the vanguard for the kingdom’s future.”

In that sense, this duel was quite meaningful.

It gradually chipped away at the mythic status the Helmut name had gained over time, while also helping pave the way for Isaac to build a solid foundation in the future.

“So I need Lohengrin Helmut to endure a bit more.”

If possible, Princess Clarice wanted him to get thrashed like this every day.

*****

“Is it really alright to allow this?”

“No matter how you look at it, Young Master Lohengrin is one of the main pillars of Helmut.”

“Is it right to beat him like that after he was out there fighting on the battlefield just moments ago?”

The knights of Helmut were lodging complaints with Arandel Helmut.

They found it hard to watch Lohengrin being defeated so decisively.

However, Arandel offered no response.

Standing at a distance, he silently observed the two as they sparred.

‘He’s picked up yet another technique.’

The posture and breathing Isaac had displayed just now—dropping his swords to close in—along with his split-second judgment, were remarkably similar to how Arandel had smashed the rabbit-eared Transcendental with his fist earlier on the battlefield.

Yet Isaac must have deemed that he couldn’t fully match Arandel in raw power and stance. So, unlike Arandel, he discarded his weapons and rapidly struck with both hands at vital points—making a modification that suited his own abilities.

It resembled the way Isaac sometimes swung two thin swords to evoke the impression of a single greatsword. By wielding two blades, he seemed to imitate a piece of Helmut’s signature style, yet did so in a unique way, stealing Arandel’s moves and making them his own.

‘He absorbed my movements, learned them, and re-created them in his own style—all in a very short time.’

How was such a thing even possible?

Though his face revealed nothing, Arandel was genuinely impressed.

Initially, he’d been curious how Isaac had managed to hide such talent.

But talent, by nature, is something that blooms.

Over the past four years, Helmut had failed to bring Isaac’s potential to full bloom—Arandel had finally recognized that. He also realized that Isaac’s deep well of sword knowledge had become the nourishment fueling that growth.

‘He doesn’t just copy—he learns. Even when he admires someone’s technique, he never loses his own center. He truly knows how to “be himself.”’

Lohengrin was growing, too. His previous defeat had taught him of his shortcomings.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it.

In fact, he was more than capable. But—

‘It’s unfortunate.’

Because one of them was hurtling forward at such a breakneck pace, the difference in their strides appeared huge.

A single step for each of them, but the distance they covered was worlds apart.

That was inevitable.

Arandel was no kind, nurturing teacher.

‘I wonder what he’ll show me tomorrow.’

Smiling faintly to himself, Arandel Helmut looked forward to seeing how Isaac would continue to grow through him.

– – The End of The Chapter – –

 

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