The Julien Mercenary Corps remained constantly aware of their surroundings.

It was only natural—they were being trailed by assassins. And not just a handful, but a massive organization numbering in the hundreds.

If that group were to suddenly turn hostile, it would be a nightmare. Even if they won the fight, the damage would be considerable.

That’s how bothersome fighting assassins was, even for seasoned warriors.

Yet Ghislain paid them no mind at all. He was wholly absorbed in one thing—training Marika.

“That’s it. Just like that.”

“Good. That’s the way.”

“Damn, impressive.”

Ghislain let out multiple admiring exclamations as he taught Marika.

Perhaps it was because she had lived purely to survive until now—Marika’s focus was unparalleled.

Even Julien, Kyle, and Lionel hadn’t shown this level of dedication. Marika was absorbing everything like a fish returning to water.

For the first time in a long while, Ghislain was enjoying the act of teaching.

If only everyone had been like this.

If asked who among his students had been the most outstanding, Ghislain would, without hesitation, answer: Marika.

She was that remarkable. Her talent was exceptional, but it was her patience and concentration that truly set her apart.

And it wasn’t just Ghislain who was impressed—Marika, too, was deeply moved by his teachings.

He’s incredible. It’s like he knows everything. This depth and breadth of combat knowledge... he’s like some perverted freak born just to fight.

Marika, who had long hungered for proper techniques and mana refinement methods, accepted Ghislain’s instruction with absolute sincerity.

Even though others would be floored by how harsh his training was, Marika never showed signs of struggle.

This is my last chance.

In the assassin group, she hadn’t even had time for proper training, let alone developing new techniques. But now, she could dedicate her entire day to honing her skills.

To her, this environment was nothing short of paradise.

Above all, Marika had a far clearer goal than anyone else.

Revenge.

It was the driving force that endlessly whipped her forward.

With that determination fused with Ghislain’s instruction, her skills grew by leaps and bounds.

Because of Marika, Kyle and Lionel started to get anxious.

What the hell? Why is she improving this fast? Don’t tell me she’s going to reach Transcendence soon?

I think she’s already stronger than me. That’s bad. I can’t be weaker than the rookie, can I?

Even while staying diligent in her duties as the youngest member, Marika’s skills were increasing faster than anyone else’s.

She injected a sense of urgency into the previously relaxed atmosphere of the mercenary corps.

Damn it, it’s already annoying that Julien reached Transcendence, and now Marika too? I’m supposed to be second only to Ghislain!

There’s no way I’m getting outdone by the rookie. Absolutely not. I’m a knight of the Empire!

Now, even without Ghislain pushing them, Kyle and Lionel were training hard in every spare moment.

Julien, too, would get up for an extra round of sword swings.

The rest of the mercenaries were the same. Everyone got swept up in the atmosphere and became busy with training.

Even lazy Osvald was getting nervous and tagging along.

Naturally, Ereneth couldn’t just sit and watch.

What the hell? What’s wrong with these guys? They weren’t like this before. Weren’t they always trying to slack off and skip out of things?

Proud and arrogant, she didn’t want to lose to humans—those so-called “lesser” races. So Ereneth clenched her teeth and threw herself into training too.

Only Deneb remained the same, offering her calm daily prayers and checking in on everyone with quiet care.

With everyone so focused on training, Ghislain wore a satisfied smile.

See? It’s all about recruiting the right people.

Thanks to Marika alone, the entire mood had transformed.

From Ghislain’s perspective—wanting to accelerate everyone’s growth—this couldn’t have been better.

But not everyone was thrilled.

From afar, Darentz ground his teeth watching the Julien Mercenary Corps.

“These insane bastards... What the hell do they think the Pope’s orders are?”

It wasn’t official intelligence, but he’d heard the rumors—that they had even resolved the dwarven crisis on their way here. By now, the Pope had probably been informed.

Just possessing two Sacred Stones was enough to shake the entire continent.

The rumors were spreading fast. Who knew what kind of lunatic beyond the Salvation Order might set their sights on the Julien Mercenary Corps?

They needed to obtain the remaining Sacred Stone and return to the Empire—immediately.

“And just how long are they going to keep dicking around...?”

The Julien Mercenary Corps spent their days either training or stopping by villages to offer voluntary aid.

Not once or twice—but every day. Their pace was agonizingly slow, enough to make a man yawn.

“Urgh... those damn bastards...”

Because of the Pope’s command, every operative was mobilized. Until this mission ended, they couldn’t rest or take on other assignments.

But looking at what the Julien Mercenary Corps was doing now, Darentz couldn’t even guess how long this operation would drag on.

Every day, he lived in anxious frustration.

Then, one day, a group approached him quietly.

“We come by His Holiness’s orders. Please accept this.”

The strangers handed Darentz a sealed letter.

He took it with a heavy sigh.

They had been ordered to guard and observe discreetly, yet now they had attacked and revealed themselves.

That report had probably already reached the Pope.

Bracing for reprimand, Darentz opened the letter—and his expression shifted subtly.

It didn’t blame him.

Inside were words he hadn’t expected.

Darentz stared at the letter for a long moment, then quietly let his mana flow through it.

The paper instantly scattered into ash and drifted away on the wind.

Without a word, he turned his gaze toward the distant direction of the Julien Mercenary Corps.

“...Hmph.”

A short sigh.

But within it were countless tangled emotions.

And on his face, for the first time, appeared a strange new tension.

***

While training and trudging along at a sluggish pace, Ghislain’s party finally reached their destination.

The port city of Tulan.

Located at the northernmost edge of the continent, it wasn’t their final goal—but they had to stop here to reach it.

“Whoa! The sea!”

“It’s my first time seeing the ocean!”

“Should we go for a swim while we’re here?”

The mercenaries shouted excitedly at the sight of the vast, open sea.

Having spent most of their lives deep inland, it wasn’t easy for them to lay eyes on the ocean unless something extraordinary happened. Most of them had only heard stories.

Julien, Deneb, Kyle—who all hailed from rural villages—and even Ereneth, who had lived only in the forest, were overcome with awe at the sight of the sea.

Even Marika, who had known only the assassin group’s quarters, sparkled with curiosity as she gazed at the waves.

Only Ghislain wore a face devoid of wonder. He had seen the sea a few times during his mercenary days and wasn’t particularly impressed.

Overexcited, Osvald immediately sprinted toward the ocean and hurled himself in. Having grown up in a riverside village, he was confident in his swimming.

“O, sea! I have arrived! Revolutionary swim!”

Splash!

“Pffft—why’s it so salty?! Agh!”

Leaving the flailing Osvald to his antics, Ghislain spoke.

“First, let’s find an inn. We need to regroup and secure a ship to cross the sea.”

Their final destination lay across the water: the frozen, unforgiving land.

The domain of the Dragon Lord, Arterion—a place that rejected the footsteps of man.

Ghislain led the group to the grandest and most extravagant inn in the city.

Not only did they have a large party, but there were delicacies in port cities that one simply had to try.

After unpacking and washing up, the party came down to the main hall—only to be stunned by the feast before them.

“Whoa! What is all this?!”

“Hey, this is fish, right?”

“So many weird-looking dishes!”

They erupted into excitement. The table was piled high with fresh seafood—delicacies rarely seen inland.

Such things were typically reserved for the wealthy nobles or powerful merchants. Transporting them via magic required enormous expense.

Most people went their whole lives without ever tasting fresh-caught fish. They’d only ever get dried or pickled variants.

Knowing this all too well, Ghislain spared no expense this time.

“Alright, tonight we eat until we’re full and rest well. Don’t hold back—order whatever you want.”

“Yeeeeah!”

Everyone excitedly began shoveling food into their mouths.

They ate so quickly that the inn’s staff had no chance to rest, running back and forth to keep up with orders.

Still, watching them eat so well was a joy. The servers were energized, smiling as they brought out dish after dish.

“Here is the silver-scaled sea bream, grilled with herb salt!”

“Wooooow!”

“This one’s the Blade of the Sea! Fresh herring sashimi!”

“Wooooow! That’s gross!”

“This is the Deep-Sea Hunter’s Stew, full of octopus, abalone, and clams! And skewers of Fire Shrimp served with lava butter and red-finned fish!”

“Wooooow! That’s weird!”

“Who ordered squid?”

“Me!” Osvald answered reflexively—then frowned, for some reason feeling oddly defeated.

From then on, including Squid-Osvald, they ordered non-stop. They ate so much that nearby guests just stared in a daze.

The innkeeper, on the other hand, watched them with a warm smile.

After devouring what seemed like the inn’s entire stock of food, the group finally rested well for the night.

The next morning, Ghislain set out with his companions to find a ship. But as soon as the shipmasters heard they were headed to the frozen lands, they all refused.

“That is the land where the Great One resides.”

“Humans not granted permission are forbidden from setting foot there.”

“If you approach recklessly, you’ll face calamity. No—truthfully, you won’t even make it that far.”

For several days, they visited countless shipowners. Every one of them turned them down.

Even if they somehow secured a ship, there would be no captain or crew willing to sail it—making any voyage impossible.

And slowly, the townspeople began to avoid Ghislain’s party.

“They say they’re heading for the frozen lands.”

“Tsk. No matter how many times the kingdom says not to go, someone always tries.”

“Don’t they realize that curiosity only hastens death?”

“Didn’t an imperial delegation go recently? They’re probably counting on that.”

No adventurer had ever returned from the frozen lands.

Only the Pope’s envoys were spared—but that was due to a pact forged between dragons and humans for the sake of battling the Demonic Realm.

Faced with this unexpected obstacle, Ghislain could only click his tongue.

“Tch. Guess we’ve got no choice.”

The local /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ shipowners were never going to trust their identities.

In the end, the only option was to request ships and crews formally from the regional lord.

After striking out at the docks, Ghislain planned to head directly to the noble’s city.

That was when a stranger approached and spoke.

“I heard you’re looking for a ship.”

At those words, Ghislain turned his head. The man smiled and continued.

“You’re going to the frozen lands, right? I think I can help.”

The others couldn’t hide their delight at his words. But Ghislain’s reaction was different.

He narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the man—his gaze filled with subtle wariness.

“Hm? Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?”

The man shrugged innocently.

He was striking—snow-white hair, refined features, a presence so graceful that even passersby would stop in their tracks to gawk.

“...”

Ghislain said nothing—just continued to stare at him.

The others assumed he was just some wealthy noble. After all, they couldn’t sense anything from him—no aura, no presence.

Not even Julien, Kyle, or Ereneth, who could read spirit energy, sensed anything unusual.

But seeing Ghislain stay completely silent, the rest slowly began reaching for their weapons.

The man tilted his head, sensing the shift in atmosphere.

“I said I’d lend you a ship. What’s with the reaction? You’ve been searching for one this whole time, haven’t you?”

“...”

After a moment of silence, a strange expression crossed the man’s face.

As if something had clicked.

Step. Step. Step.

He walked forward slowly, calmly—until he stood right before Ghislain.

Leaning in close, he whispered in a low voice, just barely audible to Ghislain.

“You... know who I am, don’t you?”

“...”

He did.

Ghislain had seen this man before.

From a thousand years in the future.

The Dragon Lord, Arterion, curled his lips into a chilling smile—directed squarely at Ghislain.