Claude spoke again to Erenes, whose mind seemed momentarily confused.
"I think you're not quite understanding... Grand Chieftain, you're supposed to stay with us and work together for thirty years."
"W-why?"
Erenes stammered, utterly bewildered by this unexpected situation. Such an absurd experience was a first for the noble Grand Chieftain of the Elves.
Claude exclaimed loudly, "Why? Because that's what the contract says!"
"........."
"Can't you just look at the contract?"
Rustle!
Roots intertwined and sprouted from the ground, and a scroll emerged as they spread.
Snap!
Erenes unfolded the contract with urgency and saw it at last.
Written in very tiny letters were the words, thirty years.
"W-what is this…"
Erenes turned her head sharply to glare at Ghislain. Ghislain simply shrugged, his eyes wide and innocent, as if he had no idea what was going on.
'Now that I think about it…'
Ghislain vaguely remembered skimming through the contract and signing it. He genuinely didn't understand how this had happened.
'When I read the first draft of the contract, there was nothing like this written. Could it be…'
Claude had been chattering beside him, distracting him thoroughly, saying the first draft had weird scribbles on it and offering a second version to sign.
Her head had hurt so much that she'd signed the second contract without reading it.
It must have been then. That was when the mischief had happened.
Erenes looked at Claude and shouted, "You scoundrel! Did you deceive me?"
Claude, feigning indignation, retorted, "What do you mean? You read the contract yourself! Did I force you to sign it at sword point?"
He wasn't wrong. Ultimately, Erenes had signed it herself. But she couldn't accept this reality.
"Y-you… this…"
Never in her long life had she imagined a human daring to trick her, the Grand Chieftain of the Elves.
Erenes, unable to contain her anger, began to draw on her energy.
Rumble!
Her power caused the entire palace to tremble. The knights stationed outside rushed in.
"Are you alright, Your Grace!"
Having entered the capital and begun serving the Grand Duke, these knights from the North were now on high alert.
Ghislain rubbed his forehead and waved them off.
"Sigh, calm down, everyone. Erenes, you too—stop it. If you keep this up, the palace will collapse."
"Grr… fine."
Erenes restrained her energy, glaring daggers at Claude.
In truth, she could simply disregard the contract. She had the strength and authority to do so.
And honestly, wasn't this halfway to fraud?
She could ask Ghislain to nullify the contract. That was her plan, in fact.
But then, she heard Claude muttering as he skulked off to the corner.
"I knew it. They all make these promises about Mother Nature's guarantee, but then they don't honor their signed contracts. You can't trust anyone these days… even Elves... mutter, mutter, mutter…"
"Ugh…"
Her head began to ache again. That man talked too much—it was maddening.
Still, she couldn't completely disregard the contract. She had signed it herself, and breaking it would mean going against her promise to Mother Nature.
She couldn't allow rumors to spread in the human world that the Grand Chieftain of the Elves had failed to honor a signed contract.
Especially not with that man's insufferable mouth; he would surely exaggerate and spread even worse rumors.
"Ugh…"
Erenes clutched her head.
'Thirty years!'
While it wasn't a long time for her, it was far too much during such a busy period.
'Humans truly are… a wicked race. Especially that man, Claude.'
She had sensed it from the moment they first met—something murky and treacherous, like the depths of a swamp.
Sweating nervously, Erenes rolled her eyes before finally speaking with great difficulty.
"Fine… fine…"
Claude, sensing her waning energy, swiftly approached.
"Fine what?"
Erenes closed her eyes tightly and said, "Fine, give me some leave."
"Of course! You're a hero of this kingdom, after all."
Erenes opened her eyes to look at Claude in disbelief.
'This scoundrel…'
Suddenly, Claude appeared enormous in her eyes, towering with a sinister grin of triumph.
Living among humans was bound to sour anyone's disposition. She finally understood why her ancestors had warned against associating with them.
Erenes glared at Claude and said, "In thirty years, you will face my wrath."
Claude, still smiling serenely, nodded.
"I'm just following the rules… but if I displease you, Grand Chieftain, feel free to do as you wish. I'm always ready to accept it."
'Right… I'll just die in 29th year. I don't want to live as a slave for 300 years anyway.'
That was Claude's honest thought.
Grinding her teeth, Erenes turned on her heel and left. She needed to draft her leave request.
The person who would approve that request was none other than Claude, the Head butler.
***
After securing her leave, Erenes left the palace to attend to her personal matters. Many came to see her off, including Parniel, who followed her for quite some distance.
"What is it? There's no need to see me off this far."
At her words, Parniel made an unexpected remark.
"They say the Saintess's heart reflects the will of the goddess."
"I know."
It was a phrase coined to justify the Saintess's whims, ensuring her actions carried legitimacy within the Church.
But Parniel seemed to genuinely believe it. She smiled and said, "From the moment I first saw you, I felt an odd urge to fight you."
"I have no intention of fighting you. Such meaningless things do not interest me."
"I know, but… I can't shake the feeling that one day we'll have to fight. It's something my heart keeps telling me. I just wanted to say that."
"..."
Erenes glanced briefly at Parniel. The two locked eyes.
After a moment, Erenes shook her head and turned away.
"I hope that never happens. I wouldn't want to kill someone called the 'Saintess.'"
Her tone emphasized the title Saintess. Parniel chuckled and replied, "But I really want to fight you someday."
Erenes did not respond. She left without looking back.
Parniel watched her go for a long time. Once Erenes had completely disappeared from sight, Parniel murmured softly.
"If you're the 'Elf' mentioned in the Church's secret teachings…"
***
The Turian Kingdom, a nation plagued by relentless monster attacks pouring down from the Shadow Mountains.
After Ghislain's efforts at the fortress of Ironcliff in Turian, Kaor and the hunters had procured a great deal of hides to send back to Lutania.
Kaor even earned the nickname "King of Leather" at Ironcliff.
Before Lutania's civil war, Ironcliff had been a vital defense against the monsters. But now, it stood empty, as did many other fortresses.
"Kaaargh!"
"Roooaaar!"
The crazed monsters screeched as they ran past the empty fortress, racing toward the kingdom's heart.
However, they couldn't reach their destination. They were stopped by an area filled with blue mist—a rift had formed on the route to the capital.
In a strange turn of events, the monsters from the Shadow Mountains began fighting the beings emerging from the rift.
This ironically provided temporary relief for some rifts, allowing them to be left unattended. But not all rifts were like this.
"Hold the line!"
"Do whatever it takes to hold them back!"
"Damn it, why are there so many of them!"
Soldiers fought valiantly to contain the spread of the cracks.
The Turian Kingdom had formed a specialized army of elite fighters to deal with the rifts. Until they arrived, the task of delaying the expansion fell to the regular soldiers.
Despite their best efforts, the commanders wore grim expressions.
"This is bad. Supplies and reinforcements are insufficient."
"The forces around the capital are barely managing to hold the line."
The rifts weren't the only problem. Nobles who had conspired with the Salvation Church had been preparing for rebellion for years.
These rebellious nobles had risen in revolt across the kingdom, forcing the army to divide its strength.
Thanks to the monster attacks, Turian's situation was slightly better than other kingdoms, but it was still engulfed in chaos.
"The kingdom's collapse is inevitable."
All the commanders thought the same.
The Turian Kingdom had never been a particularly strong nation. It had even recruited criminals fleeing other countries to bolster its hunter ranks.
Fighting monsters alone had already stretched them to their limits.
For this reason, Turian hadn't even joined the allied forces. They simply lacked the capacity to provide aid.
The soldiers were growing increasingly exhausted. Fighting both the rifts and the rebels, the battles seemed endless.
If they could at least eat their fill, it might have been bearable, but the kingdom's finances had already run dry.
'This is too much…'
'It feels like dying would be easier.'
'Why was I even born into such a world…'
At first, they held onto hope, waiting for a hero to appear and save them.
But now, even that dream has become a luxury. They were merely surviving, unable to find meaning in their existence.
Despair is contagious. This atmosphere of hopelessness quickly spread across the entire kingdom.
The number of people taking their own lives grew, as did those surrendering to the rebel nobles.
And so, the Turian Kingdom was slowly crumbling.
At that moment, a man appeared.
He had jet-black hair and eyes as deep and dark as the abyss. His pale skin, white as snow, seemed never to have seen sunlight.
His face, as if sculpted by the gods themselves, showed not a trace of a smile. His cold expression, devoid of emotion, made it difficult for anyone to approach him.
Shhhk…
The man drew his sword. A piercing blue light shimmered along its edge.
The elderly man accompanying him bowed slightly and spoke.
"Your Highness, are you truly going to leave this tower?"
"I am not a prince. Do not call me that."
"…Yes."
The man was the long-hidden crown prince of the kingdom.
From a young age, he had shown prodigious talent in swordsmanship. His body was so strong it was said to be blessed by mana itself.
Even without practicing mana techniques, his body naturally accumulated mana from birth. As he grew older, he had even modified the royal family's mana techniques to suit himself—a true genius.
Yet, he had been abandoned by the royal family. The king despised him intensely.
Since his birth, the king had seethed with hatred at the mere sight of him. People speculated it was because the queen had died giving birth to the prince.
To avoid incurring the king's wrath, everyone shunned the boy and kept silent. As sinister rumors spread, more and more people avoided him, disliking him without reason.
There were even repeated attempts to assassinate him—with the king's approval.
Though the boy survived every attempt thanks to his incredible skills, each one closed his heart further.
He relinquished his position as crown prince to his half-brother and confined himself to the royal tower.
He met no one, formed no bonds. He spent his days quietly reading books and practicing swordsmanship in the tower.
It was the only way he could live in peace.
After years of silence, the man had finally decided to reenter the world.
The old servant who had cared for him alone spoke with concern.
"His Majesty will not stay silent."
"It doesn't matter."
The world was said to be overrun with monsters. No matter how detached he had been, he could not ignore such news.
He simply wanted to save people.
So, he stepped into the world with nothing but his sword. The man ventured into the rift zones and fought.
Kaaargh!
The Riftborn could not stop him. They turned to dust upon contact with his blade.
But the man alone could not eradicate all the Riftborn at once. Wounded, he would return, rest, and then reenter the rifts.
The soldiers holding the defensive line watched him and clicked their tongues.
"He's insane."
"Why is he doing something so reckless?"
"He's skilled, but he won't last long. He'll die soon enough."
Even when they learned his identity, no army came to his aid. Everyone found him unsettling and avoided him.
Some even thought it would be better if he just died in the rift zones. After all, they knew he was the abandoned prince of the royal family.
Though the man remained an outcast, it didn't bother him. He had always been alone; nothing had changed.
He simply fought the rifts in silence.
He fought and fought, endlessly, his body drenched in blood and exhaustion.
For days and nights, he continued fighting.
Moved by his determination, some soldiers began to gather around him. They treated his wounds and shared their food with him.
Ka-boom!
Finally, after a battle lasting half a day, the man decapitated the Equidema.
Before the blue mist of the rift had even dissipated, he dragged Equidema's corpse out of the rift zone.
He did it to give people hope.
It was truly a monumental achievement. No one on the continent had ever single-handedly closed a rift.
Awed by his incredible feat, the soldiers all knelt before him.
In Ghislain's past life, he was called:
The Savior.
And… the first of the Continent's Seven Strongest.
The Finest Sword of the Continent.
[T/L: I am in dire need of support. I will give discount to all those who will buy the rest of the chapters all together, so please support me the reader on my webnovel platform and read ahead chapters on my ko-fi page "RevengerScans" : https://ko-fi.com/revengerscans ]