The summit of Astrion (Homeworld/Core).

A place where the thunderclouds never cleared and the lightning never ceased.

“Why is this damn citadel always dark and noisy?”

The Patriarch’s office—secretive and monumental.

Prince Pellaeus sat with his hands laced behind his head, staring off into the distance.

Both legs were propped up on the table.

“Your Highness. Please maintain decorum.”

“And who exactly is watching?”

“I am watching, the maids and attendants passing by are watching, and the Dreaming Thunder Star is watching.”

“I’ll order the first two to pretend they saw nothing. As for the last… I’ll resolve that with prayer directly to the party concerned.”

The head of the Counterintelligence Corps, patriarch of the Nubesta cadet branch.

The one they called Nubesta of the Thunderclouds.

He exerted his full effort to make the Patriarch lower his feet, but the legs did not move.

“But there are matters one resolves not by decree, but by action, Your Highness.”

“Because of Andromeda and Traysan?”

“Yes.”

Seeing the Patriarch had no intention whatsoever of moving his legs, Nubesta gave up on that front.

He moved straight to the point.

This family never tolerated elegant riddles.

“Why? Isn’t it a fine sight?”

“Lady Andromeda is using the southern border’s disorder to raise Kyrie into a warlord, and Traysan is already warlord in all but name.”

“Already?”

“When Traysan holds council, every mid-to-high ranking Blue Knight stationed in the capital attends. More than one unit with Constellation-Lords among them has pledged association.”

“Association? Those men all swore they move only while I permit it. ‘Association’ would be when a single order from that brat would strike even me across the face.”

“Your Highness.”

Pellaeus laughed sharply. Nubesta could only swallow his frustration.

“At this rate, civil war is inevitable.”

“That seat—no. The waiting seat for that seat. The one both of them are watching, guarding, and preparing to seize.”

“Yes.”

“You cannot inherit that seat and expect to keep it. That is not sitting, but being sat down. And a sat-down seat can always be taken. The seat, and the seat waiting for it, belong only to the one who takes it. Do you understand me?”

“Your Highness…”

“I’ve never intended to hand it to the man who stands there politely with both hands outstretched. Only the one who bares his teeth and takes it can sit in that seat.”

The Patriarch who bore the stigma was still overflowing with vigor.

“Traysan is Your Highness’s son…”

“Nubesta!”

“…Forgive me.”

“They’re all my sons. Traysan, Magnus, Epicus, Kyrie. Every one of them exceptional, shining. I gathered them like jewels into my casket.”

“….”

“Andromeda uses the border turmoil to raise Kyrie to strike Traysan? Let her. Traysan gathers support in the capital to devour his half-sister? Let him. Forever like thunder—each preparing his own life, and shining by his own hand. That is Astreos.”

Nubesta thought: This is the confidence of a superhuman.

The relaxed certainty of a strongest who believes he can quell anything with a single descending thunderbolt.

The Astreos-ness of the man who is Astreos.

If so, there was no problem.

But what if not?

The Royal Household and the Manseong Church have already entered the territory.

If the southern turmoil that the two heirs were so happily neglecting swelled and shook the entire House—

Not even the Patriarch can exert absolute influence over both Crown and Church.

If even this overwhelming Pellaeus reached a point where he could no longer handle it—

That was what Nubesta feared.

“Report the eastern Corpse Wasteland.”

“Yes.”

He slipped the report he had been about to deliver back into his sleeve.

A report questioning whether Kyrie’s explosion in growth had exceeded the limits of the Celestial Lightning Body contract, and whether he was abusing his adoptive authority to consume Elixirs excessively.

“One spoonful! Just one spoonful!”

“No!”

“One drop, then!”

“I said no!”

“Kyrie, sir! Kyrie, my lord! Kyrie, please! I captured two Navigators in the last battle, surely you recall—!”

“I dearly wish to repay your merits, truly I do—but this is the Lady’s bestowed gift. If I share it, it is disloyalty outright, and legally punishable. I must swallow my tears and refuse.”

“You’re smiling far too brightly for someone heartbroken!”

I pushed past the Blue Knights and knights and returned to the command tent.

“Jo—Jo! Stop this lot!”

“No. Sir! I— I’m a nobody Retainer! I couldn’t stop a single Blue Knight if I died and resurrected, how the hell am I supposed to— AAAAAGH!”

Poor Jo was swept into the crowd.

I set the Lightning Elixir upon the table.

Dark cloud-black and pale grey swirled together inside, blue sparks blooming and fading like captured storm-light.

Like a whole thunderhead trapped in a glass vessel.

The wonder held me only a moment.

So they succeeded in stabilizing a mana potion derived from Mutated Beast Secretions. And mass production isn’t far off…?

I read the enclosed letter.

The news was shocking from the start.

It had only recently been understood that merely hearing the Psychic Wave of a Mutated Beast could drive a person mad, and cause animals to mutate.

And now they claimed to have turned that very secretion into something like an Elixir.

And succeeded.

For a moment I wondered if Andromeda was making a catastrophic mistake.

Something that would look fine now but erupt later.

But thinking it through, it was not impossible.

Even when maddened, the creatures kept their biological structure. Some grew extra limbs, yes, but many mutated cleanly.

And it was well-known: consuming defective Elixir or overdosing produced results not too different from a Mutated Beast.

Engorged veins. Eyes rolling white. Strength beyond measure. Remove the psychic resonance and they were nearly identical.

And according to Erica, the original substance came from a shadow organization that passed it to her via the Rykenta Elders.

If this was originally the defective batch of some Elixir…

In the dream sent by the Dreaming Thunder Star, there had been a human leader directing the Mutated Beasts.

If they manufactured Elixir, and used the defective product to induce mutation—

Everything aligned.

And if Andromeda simply had the pharmaceutical workshops refine and stabilize that defective base—

It was not surprising that she succeeded.

In the world of alchemy, the difference between perfection and corruption is thinner than a hair.

The shadow group’s skill might have been high, but enough to remain hidden.

The House’s master alchemists, however, did not hide.

Thus, Andromeda’s magic Elixir could indeed be effective.

I continued reading reports on the central political scene and Traysan’s movements.

[ …Traysan contacted Magnus and the Three. Magnus was held in the capital through his house’s patriarch, but the Three could not be held. As you know, the light cavalry can go anywhere. Even I cannot keep them in place. Sorry. ]

[ …I’ll delay the supply routes and disrupt shipping schedules. Return to a major city and declare victory as soon as possible. The letter to Izmael to check Gracus has already— ]

The Three.

Unutios, Diatus, Trinios.

So it’s them.

I knew them—brilliant magnetic artists.

Few Thundercrafters possessed the talent for magnetic arts.

And the light cavalry was, as Andromeda said, a unit that could move freely.

A unit used often.

Sending them south had only one meaning.

They really intend to kill me.

They were not coming to exchange polite words.

Now I truly had to keep my wits sharp.

Of course, even with sharp wits, I could not immediately abandon the field and sprint to Spiramentaon.

My troops numbered about 5,000; Rykenta prisoners around 8,000.

I had to disarm them, assess their ranks, negotiate ransoms, and win over those worth recruiting.

If I left in haste, the prisoners would simply become bandits.

Eight thousand bandits ravaging the southern border?

I swear, Mutated Beasts would be a lesser crisis.

Andromeda herself could not shield me from the political disaster.

We could not simply slaughter them, either.

If the Navigators rose in mutual death rebellion, our troops would be severely damaged.

“I’ll rely on you.”

“I’ll rely on you as well.”

Which is to say, there was something I could do now.

“Come.”

“Anytime.”

The training grounds hardened into open courtyard packed earth.

Nereus and I faced one another, gathering power.

Crackle—spark—!

From crown to spine, crimson lightning arced across Nereus.

I too summoned white lightning, activating Neural Acceleration, High-Speed Cognition, and Physical Reinforcement.

We did not draw swords.

This bout was Thundercraft only.

Nothing but lightning—

“No holding back!”

Whum—whum—whum—whum—

I opened with Authority: Pressure.

Between Blue Knights with lightning resistance, pure Radiant Discharge rarely decided anything.

You needed to force an opening and finish with at least Guided Lightning.

“Hmph!”

Nereus released Lightning Bolt.

Szzzt!

A crimson bead shot forward.

“Whoa—”

If I hadn’t taken a thunder-step, I’d have been struck at the start.

“Dodging already!”

Nereus fired bolt after bolt.

“Want me to receive them? Fine—behold Chain Discharge.”

Crack—shatter—!

White lightning lanced, threading through the crimson bolts.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The bolts burst midair.

I kept discharging with my left hand while sculpting Guided Lightning with my right.

Nereus matched me—discharge for discharge, guided strike for guided strike.

We shot each other’s lightning out of the air, each trying to land even a single strike overhead.

One lapse meant a bolt to the skull.

This is the duel.

I concentrated lightning near my blindfolded eye.

Heavenstrike…

I tried to call true Thunderfall from the sky.

“Out of mana already?”

Nereus shouted triumphantly and hurled more guided bolts.

“I’ve plenty of mana and Authority left.”

I grinned as pale light began gathering above us.

“You bastard—!”

Nereus desperately launched his own lightning upward.

I clenched my fist, certain of victory—

Then I saw it:

A crimson glow gathering in the sky behind me.

Heavenstrike? You too? Since when?

I fired my guided bolt upward in panic.

“Damn it!”

Flash—!

“I won.”

“In live combat it could differ. I was braced to take a hit. You were exposed.”

We lay flat on the charred ground, catching breath.

We’d used our Guided Lightning like lightning rods to divert the Heavenstrikes to ground.

I’d countered smoothly with no injuries; Nereus had gotten clipped by a stray arc and been blown back.

He shook it off easily.

“You can use Heavenstrike now?”

“Since just after you defeated Epicus.”

“…What?”

“Became possible sometime after this campaign. I prepared it from the start of the spar, but failed to drop it in time.”

Truly, he was impressive.

I grew stronger daily through the Celestial Lightning Body, but he was catching up on effort alone.

Perhaps his innate talent surpassed mine.

Even considering he sipped White Lightning Elixir like water—his will was terrifying.

“Next time I’ll stab it into your skull the moment we draw blades. Prepare yourself.”

Does he want to win that badly?

“Try it.”

I envied that fire a little.

“If you can.”

That night, I drank the Lightning Elixir.

With my Celestial Lightning Body at ~800%, I absorbed every drop.

I felt changed to the soul.

“Sir?”

“I hear you.”

“You seem… unusually pleased?”

“I’m refreshed. That’s all.”

“Well, I suppose anyone would feel refreshed if they slept without bugs chewing on them.”

“Light more mosquito incense.”

Even Jo could sense it.

“So, today’s tasks?”

“Allocation of prisoners is complete, sir. You only need to review and confirm.”

Chapter 79

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