Chapter 42
When Flowers Bloom
“It couldn’t be helped, back then.”
In a past life—one already fading into memory—Jonas spoke to Isaac through the heavy door of an underground vault.
“It was the only way. If we didn’t want Goethe to be dragged into the power struggles of every faction, it had to become a self-sufficient city-state.”
A blade was lodged in his abdomen, yet Jonas’s voice still burned with conviction.
“The strength of nobles comes from the land. From fertile soil… and what grows from it.”
The foundation of noble power.
The land that sustains it.
And now, that very land lay before Isaac.
A quarter of the territory—rich black soil, fertile beyond measure. Yet it bordered the Black Forest, where battles with hell wolves erupted without warning. The ground had been corrupted by demonic blood; nothing would grow there.
Countless scholars summoned by Count Goethe had tried and failed to solve the problem.
In the end, the solution came from an unexpected person.
Adele, Countess of Goethe—Isaac’s mother.
The blue flower she had brought from the demon realm to treat her son’s strange condition—
a flower that fed on mana—had purified the land of Binfeld.
“…This is insane.”
“Did I drink too much last night? Am I still hungover?”
The soldiers, still groggy, couldn’t tell if they were dreaming.
Only three days had passed since they spread the fertilizer.
Yet before them stretched a miraculous sight.
Under the pale light of dawn, dewdrops clung to fresh green grass.
Sprouts were pushing through the soil everywhere.
“What are you all standing around for? Get in formation—”
Even Carlson, rubbing the stiffness from his neck, fell silent.
The barren wasteland of Binfeld… now teemed with life.
Countless shoots had risen from the earth.
And in the middle of it all, a massive man danced wildly.
Bessimer.
He sang loudly in a tribal language no outsider could understand, stomping and flailing with abandon.
“Men.”
Carlson’s voice snapped the soldiers to attention.
“Did your captain start drinking the moment he woke up?”
They shook their heads.
“Then has that walking pile of muscles finally lost his mind?”
This time, they nodded quietly.
“See? I told you! It works! It actually works!”
Another madman joined the dance—Hans, grinning despite his bruised eye.
“Sprouts! They’ve sprouted, you bastards!”
“I told you! If the young master says it’ll work, it works!”
Their ridiculous dance continued.
“…Someone drag those idiots away. They’re ruining training.”
Even so, the morning drills were delayed.
“Bang!”
“What do you mean, tear it all up? They’ve barely sprouted!”
“You’ll break the table. Haaah…”
Isaac yawned widely, scratching his messy hair.
Though he still carried the air of a noble, he was filthy and smelled faintly. Like the soldiers, he hadn’t bathed in over a month.
Water was too precious.
He had been researching the Wolf King’s mana stone day and night, barely sleeping. Just as the frost stone from the Winter Queen Spider had proven useful, he was certain this one held secrets.
But so far… nothing.
It remained silent.
“What you brought wasn’t just fertilizer,” Isaac explained.
“The seeds inside it… they’re from plants that grow in the demon realm.”
“…What?”
“They feed on mana. They’ll absorb the mana in the soil as they grow.”
“And then?”
“We plow them under. Green manure.”
Once their growth ended, the plants would rot into the soil, becoming new nutrients.
“…When did you think of that?”
Isaac shrugged.
“Then why hasn’t anyone tried this before?”
“The Wolf King. Hell wolves. Virpier. Shamanism. And the belief that nothing can grow here.”
“…!”
“That’s all it takes.”
Even Adele’s attempt to purify Binfeld had faced fierce opposition.
She had risked her life—and paid for it.
Goethe survived.
She did not.
“Let’s wait a bit longer,” Isaac said quietly.
He would never allow such a tragedy again.
May your long night end someday.
May you find peace.
He would never have to read those words again.
“…I miss you, Mother.”
Three days later, the flowers bloomed.
The soldiers finally realized—
these were no ordinary wildflowers.
Grass grew up to their waists.
Blue blossoms spread life across the camp.
But to Isaac—
This was only the beginning.
“Bessimer. Plow it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Training was replaced with labor.
Axes struck the earth.
Crack—crack—crack—
But beneath the surface lay frozen ground.
Tools dulled quickly.
“Damn it… this is like hitting iron!”
Yet no one complained.
Because for the first time in thirteen years—
They had seen green.
Hope.
Carlson stepped forward.
“Give me that.”
He took a shovel and dug.
Effortlessly.
The frozen ground gave way.
“…What the hell?”
The soldiers stared, stunned.
“Monster…”
“How does he do that?”
After an hour, even Carlson stopped.
“…This is ridiculous.”
Back in the tent, the stench hit him immediately.
Isaac hadn’t even emptied his chamber pot.
“What exactly have you been doing in here?”
“It resonates with my mana… I’m sure of it…”
Carlson sighed.
“At this rate, we can’t farm this land. Only Bessimer and I can dig.”
Isaac needed a solution.
Livestock wouldn’t survive the cold.
Horses were restricted by the crown.
“…So we’re stuck.”
He set the Wolf King’s stone on the table.
Then—
“My lord, visitors have arrived.”
“Visitors?”
“Tribespeople. About thirty of them.”
Isaac and Carlson exchanged glances.
Chapter 41 – Growth
“They say Virpier turned the men of their village into hell wolves.”
The story unfolded.
Their families had been driven into Binfeld’s wasteland.
They had starved. Suffered.
Virpier blamed everything on Goethe.
He filled the men with hatred.
Promised them power.
They followed him—like moths to flame.
Now, only the elderly, women, and children remained.
They bowed deeply.
“We wish to atone,” Günther translated.
“You’ve brought hope. We want to help. We want to be part of this miracle.”
Isaac scratched his cheek.
He hadn’t intended any of this.
Still—
More hands were useful.
“Tell them this,” he said.
“No freeloaders. If they can earn their keep, they can stay.”
“Brother!”
Bessimer beamed.
The camp came alive again.
The elderly advised.
Women tended the wounded.
Children trained under Günther.
Laughter slowly replaced despair.
Carlson approached Günther one evening.
“You’re pushing yourself too hard.”
“I’m… excited.”
“This place… is my home now.”
Carlson handed him a drink.
Günther coughed violently—it was far stronger than ale.
“…Why follow the young lord?” he asked.
Carlson stared into his empty cup.
“…I have my reasons.”
His heart, unlike the others, remained hollow.
Meanwhile, Isaac continued his research.
The Wolf King’s stone still revealed nothing—
yet something had changed.
A sixth mana circuit formed within him.
Ten days passed.
When Isaac finally stepped outside—
The soldiers didn’t recognize him.
He had grown.
Taller. Sharper. Older.
“…Did I really change that much?”
Even he was surprised.
And somehow—
He felt stronger.
Chapter 42 – The New Wolf King
“The hell wolves… they’re still here.”
That alone made no sense.
With the Wolf King dead, they should have scattered.
Driven by instinct, they should have moved on.
Yet they remained.
Why?
“Let’s go take a look,” Isaac said.
“…At night?” Carlson frowned.
“Yes.”
“Are you insane?”
“Probably.”
The Black Forest at night was pure darkness.
Mana hung thick in the air.
The deeper they went, the heavier it felt.
Yet Isaac felt something else—
Familiarity.
A strange, nostalgic pull.
Fragments of memory surfaced.
Not his own.
The Wolf King’s.
The terrain.
The prey.
The scent of blood.
The feeling of running on four legs.
This forest—
Felt like home.
“Rest here,” Carlson ordered.
Isaac closed his eyes.
Not to defend himself—
But to listen.
To connect.
Then—
They appeared.
Dozens of massive wolves emerged from the darkness.
Red eyes glowing.
Surrounding them.
“Get ready!” Bessimer shouted.
But Isaac stood still.
“You have no idea what I’ve seen.”
“Save it and run—”
“Knelt.”
“…What?”
“Not you.”
The wolves—
Lowered their heads.
Exposing their necks.
Submission.
“…What the…?”
Bessimer stared.
Then at Isaac.
“…Your eyes…”
They glowed—
A deep, golden yellow.
Just like the Wolf King’s.
