The person Kyrie had left Joi in charge of reorganizing the army to go meet was Magnus.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.

At the time, Magnus was left hanging in midair.

Traysan, who had summoned him to the capital, had fallen.

His right arm was gone, and the other adopted heirs were in no position to keep him close.

He had plenty of money, so he could pay a ransom and be released.

If I go skulking back to the west like this, I won’t be able to face the younger ones.

But after being chosen as a Senior Adopted Heir’s trump card and swaggering up to the capital, if he returned as a kite with its string cut, missing an arm, he would die of shame.

Magnus of Magnes Astreos.

Kyrie?

I’m going to subjugate the undead of the Corpse Wasteland. Won’t you go west with me?

That was when Kyrie threw out the offer.

It wasn’t because Kyrie was being considerate of Magnus’s circumstances.

This is a mission that cannot be allowed to fail. If we start without the influential cadet lines of the west, they’ll cut off manpower supply and logistics. And I can’t exactly go on an expedition while leaving a man who used to be the right hand of a rebel leader in a city crawling with that rebel’s remnants, either.

It was half an intent to exploit local connections, half caution.

To Magnus, it felt like the Stellar Seats of the night sky had tossed him a lifeline.

Adopted heir Kyrie. Senior Adopted Heir Kyrie?

The distance between Astrion and the Corpse Wasteland in the west of House Astreos felt like a foreign country.

On the western border, it didn’t matter who the Senior Adopted Heir was.

What mattered was the fact that he had received the Senior Adopted Heir’s call.

Since this was a major expedition with the Sub-patriarch accompanying it, Magnus could even claim that he had escorted the Sub-patriarch to the Magnes family’s territory.

Of course, Andromeda and Kyrie would not see it that way, but it was enough if the people of the territory saw it that way.

I tried to bring him down with swagger, and now I’m receiving help like this. How embarrassing.

Clunk, clunk.

Inside the eight-horse carriage swaying smoothly, Kyrie and Andromeda, Magnus and Helios, all looked at one another with awkward expressions.

"So you were the one swinging that Sacheol blade back then?"

Andromeda brought up what happened when Traysan had swept in with an army and ambushed her.

"I have no excuse."

Magnus kept bowing repeatedly, smiling with an ingratiating warmth that didn’t match his blunt, arrogant impression.

Helios said nothing, just stared blankly ahead.

Starting tomorrow, I should make them ride separate carriages.

This lineup was a failure.

Kyrie acknowledged his mistake with humility.

That evening.

"Prepare to make camp!"

"Set up the braziers first!"

"Pitch Lady Sub-patriarch’s tent here, and Young Master Kyrie’s tent here."

The thousands under Kyrie and Scipio began preparing camp in a vast encampment beside the main road.

The encampment managed by the Mounted Patrol had land leveled to make it easy to set up tents, a large ranch nearby that raised sheep and horses to supply food and warhorses, and a river or stream alongside it so there were no issues with drinking water.

"It’s so, so comfortable, sir! No worries about fXing vipers, no worries about fXing bugs, no worries about fXing torrential rain."

Joi burst out laughing, delighted.

"When we go west, we’ll meet rattlesnakes, scorpions, and sandstorms. I doubt much will change, sir."

"Shut your mouth before I tie your tongue up, sir."

Gaveng, counting whether all the wagons had arrived, muttered something that drained Joi’s energy.

I don’t need to be here, then.

Kyrie watched for a moment, then approached Magnus.

"Sir Magnus."

"Kyrie... gongja?"

"Gongja?"

"Aren’t you too old to be called ‘young master’ now? I can’t keep calling you that forever. Yes. What is it?"

In this army of thousands, Magnus had only three people he knew.

One was the enemy who had cut off his arm, one was an old comrade from a rebellion, and one was the Sub-patriarch who had once pointed a blade at him during that rebellion—so in moments like this, he had no choice but to keep his mouth shut and hide.

"Can you teach me magnetism arts?"

Kyrie’s visit was almost welcome.

"Give up. If you don’t have the inborn talent, you can’t even start. It’s an Authority like that."

Magnus cut down the request from his welcome visitor without hesitation.

Damn.

There was nothing to be done.

He couldn’t lie.

"I think I do have talent."

"What?"

"Doesn’t it start with Imbuement and Area Imbuement? When I fought your Sacheol giant too, I definitely felt attraction and repulsion that weren’t lightning. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t sharpen your edge too much just because we used to be enemies, but am I misunderstanding?"

Kyrie didn’t back down.

He’s confident in what he’s saying. Is it really an Authority you can’t learn? My Celestial Lightning Body should be enough for that.

Of course, inside, he was burning up.

"It’s a misunderstanding. Fine. I don’t have anything else to do, so let’s start for now."

Magnus, with sins on his back, had no choice but to give ground.

Don’t sharpen your edge, huh. Even his threats have class. Maybe he didn’t beat Traysan by luck.

Kyrie and Magnus went out to an open patch beyond the encampment.

"When you first learn magnetism arts, starting with Imbuement and Area Imbuement is correct. Of course, just because you can use those Authorities doesn’t make you a magnetism arts user right away."

"Like how you have to be able to generate lightning as electromagnetic waves to learn Pressure and Bio-radar? A necessary condition, not a sufficient one."

"Exactly."

It was a moonlit night.

Magnus fluttered an empty sleeve on one side and opened the hand on the other.

Whoosh!

A thin metal spike, about a handspan long, floated up from where it was tucked into his belt and flew into his palm.

"First, Imbuement."

Crackle! Crack!

Small purple electrical sparks jumped around the metal spike.

"I deliberately let it leak somewhat in the form of lightning arts so it would be easier to see."

"Thanks."

"The key is rotation. You exploit the property of magnets where the same poles repel, and you keep it repelling continuously, building up repulsive force."

Woooooong!

Around the metal spike, an optical illusion appeared as if wind were coiling around it.

Through Bio-radar, Kyrie could see the electromagnetic force swirling around it as an outline.

Amazing.

The spike trembled as if it wanted to burst away.

Tendons rose in Magnus’s hand.

Thoooom!

With a low, deep shockwave, the spike launched.

Crack!

It split a boulder jutting up ahead.

"Wow."

A gasp slipped out of Kyrie without him realizing.

That’s cool.

As a realist, he knew how to acknowledge real power.

"This is Magnetic Railshot. It fires a metal projectile at three times the speed of sound. It’s one of the basic Authorities of magnetism arts."

Magnus twitched the corner of his mouth.

"And the Sacheol blade?"

"Can’t even use Discharge, but you want to handle Lightning Strike first?"

"Is it that bad? Fine."

"There’s no better Authority for taking down an undead command unit. Until you’re proficient, the Sacheol blade’s range is shorter and its power weaker than you’d think. Master this first, and then I’ll teach you that."

"Thanks. But a command unit?"

"Is this your first time going to the Corpse Wasteland?"

A question back.

"It is. I’m only in my early twenties. I’m ten years younger than you."

Kyrie nodded, showing a bit of childish pride.

"Now that I think about it, that’s true. You didn’t look it."

Magnus gave a faint smile.

"Are you saying I look old?"

"To a knight with achievements, you feel seasoned. To a knight with losses, you feel imposing. To a knight with ambition, you inspire longing. They’re all feelings a young man can’t easily carry."

"I’ll take that as a compliment. That’s allowed, right?"

"After practice, once things settle over there, bring your guard and your adjutant too. I’ll tell you about the Corpse Wasteland. I’ve hunted the undead there the way you’d hunt greenskins."

The night grew deep.

Kyrie sat around a single campfire with Joi, Frey, and Magnus.

"So you were that Blue Knight. Your greatsword handling was outstanding."

"Oh. You remember me? Right. I, Frey, do have a way with a greatsword."

"I remember a squat little body and a pretty face, but seeing you again..."

"Seeing me again?"

"You’re even smaller, and even more childlike."

"Ptui! Hey, hey, hey!"

Magnus smirked at Frey.

Frey flailed as if her rage nerves had been jabbed, but Magnus didn’t even spare her a glance.

"And this one is the adjutant? Meticulous and attentive for how she looks. I think I saw your face once back then."

"Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Joi, a Navigator-rank, Sir Kyrie’s adjutant and the deputy commander of the Mounted Patrol Corps 8th Regiment. I will be acquiring a surname soon."

Joi greeted the Planetary Seat Blue Knight with perfect formality.

Magnus turned a pleased smile toward Kyrie.

"You’ve got a good adjutant."

"You can tell?"

"Light but not frivolous, ambitious but not greedy, an adjutant who looks in the same direction rather than at your back—that’s hard to find."

"Yeah. I’ve only seen one so far too."

At Kyrie’s reply, Joi smiled lazily.

"All right. Then let’s begin."

Magnus opened his mouth in earnest.

"You probably know the rough outline, but the Corpse Wasteland refers to the dangerous realm at the far western edge of House Astreos, in the central-eastern part of the continent. It’s the old capital region of the ancient empire of evil that was destroyed by the Stellar Seats’ wrath, and countless corpses rise and roam."

As he began with a familiar story, a relaxed ease hovered at the corner of his mouth.

"The most common units are skeleton soldiers. There are various variants—archers, warriors, and so on. Among the ones whose flesh hasn’t rotted away yet, there are zombies, ghouls, and abominations too. But those aren’t the real problem. What makes the Corpse Wasteland a dangerous realm are the commander-class units."

"Commander-class units?"

"We call them Whitebone. It means they’re made from a hundred bones gathered together. If it’s in the form of a bugler, it’s a Whitebone Bugler. If it’s in the form of a knight, it’s a Whitebone Knight. Among them, the strong and big ones are Whitebone Nobles, Whitebone Lords. That sort of thing."

"Whitebone."

"We don’t know why Whitebone units are created. But they’re definitely superhuman troops—forces on the level of a Blue Knight like you or me. They break through our lines, exert domination over nearby units to form armies, and awaken ancient monsters sleeping deeper inside the wasteland."

"Ancient monsters?"

In contrast, the ease drained from Kyrie, Joi, and Frey’s faces by the second.

"Have you ever seen a dragon?"

"Not a drake or a wyvern—a real dragon?"

"Isn’t that something that only exists in myths?"

"I’ve seen a dragon before. I don’t know whether it was a true dragon, or a monster made by modifying a drake by an ancient empire tyrant. It’s in the literature, isn’t it. The monster royal family who inherited dragon blood used that blood to cast all kinds of magic and create biological weapons."

"Kiri-kiri. I’m scared."

"Besides that, there are large-class units. The Thousand-Hand Spider, made from countless skeletons fused together—that’s the most common large type. Whitebone Giants, the Hundred-Legged One, the Insect King Mothership."

The story went on.

The campfire dwindled.

Magnus, saying anyway, changed the subject.

"Skeletons have no muscles."

"Of course."

"That’s why lightning doesn’t work well. Lightning is efficient against living things because it can disrupt the electrical signals in muscles, but their strength doesn’t come from physical muscle. And it’s inefficient to burn and smash bones with lightning alone, too."

"Magnetism arts are different."

Kyrie caught the new topic’s core in an instant.

"Even a Whitebone unit will be blown to pieces by a single Magnetic Railshot."

Magnus nodded in satisfaction.

"I’ll have to practice more."

Kyrie nodded, fidgeting with the throwing daggers at his waist.

Kyrie marched steadily west.

"The soil is red."

"Because of iron oxide."

The surrounding scenery gradually grew drier, and in the encampments, scorpions and rattlesnakes began to appear.

"Was this a canal once?"

"They say it connected to the ancient empire’s capital. They say the Dragonblood Emperor made it with magic. All the water evaporated under starfire and it became a valley, but—"

Around the time Joi started getting irritated from scorpion stings.

Around the time Feijin realized lightning arts users weren’t attacked by insects thanks to their faint electromagnetic waves and began bouncing around in delight.

Clunk, clunk.

"Sir!"

"What is it?"

"Skeletons have appeared ahead, sir!"

Kyrie encountered the undead for the first time.

Chapter 137

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