Raising the Northern Grand Duchy as a Max-Level All-Master

Chapter 113.2

“Well, something like that.”

[Hah! If you intended to toughen her up, why leave her in the rear? You should’ve placed her here in the field instead of that projection!]

“I told you. It’s a manageable danger. Even the lion wouldn’t throw its cub off a thousand-foot precipice.”

[.......]

Jörmungandr’s long black tongue flickered, as if irritated.

“When the spirit dies, so does the body. The same is true of nations.”

“Our sovereign will overcome this challenge, no matter how dire.”

“Because she has him by her side.”

[There’s something... something you’re hiding.]

The serpent’s brows furrowed grotesquely.

“......”

Meanwhile, Isabelle, though calm on the outside, was battling inner turmoil.

‘What is this feeling?!’

A heavy sense of foreboding had been gnawing at her.

‘Arina...’

Her gaze kept drifting toward the workshop’s direction.

She wanted nothing more than to send Balzac or Sun there as reinforcements.

[Screeeeeeeech!]

But that wasn’t an option. Even with their combined strength, containing the white serpent before them was already a struggle.

‘O ancestors of the Renslets and the Rune bloodline... grant her your blessing!’

For the first time, Isabelle offered a silent prayer.

***

South of the High Tower.

Far beyond its outskirts, in a quiet, open field—still some distance from the expansive workshop.

Woooooooom—

The High Tower’s numerous security spells and barriers, cleverly disguised as paintings, did not extend this far.

Flaaaash!

A massive teleportation spell—a symbol of large-scale spatial movement—manifested simultaneously on the snowy ground and the clear sky above.

“Chwiiiiik...”

In recent years, their betrayal had grown so flagrant it was unbearable.

They had turned away from nature, destroyed it, and even oppressed their former kin, becoming agents of civilization’s corruption.

“Once, we all marched south, united, bringing the terror of savagery to the civilizations of the weak! That glory is gone!”

Long ago, they had ceased to be kin.

“Those treacherous dogs have been tainted by the weakness and filth of the southern realms. They’ve abandoned nature and the White Serpent, even forming the so-called Renslet Order to defile our ancestors!”

KRAAAAAAH!!

Cries of fury and hatred erupted from all sides of the druid warriors.

“But we are merciful. Like nature, our hearts are vast. We will grant those traitors one final act of mercy.”

WOOOOOO!

A deep, resonant cheer echoed through the field.

“And that mercy will be to destroy their civilization and send their old and young alike back to nature.”

For once, even the Northern Orcs refrained from sneering and showed respect.

“Nature is the White Serpent, and the White Serpent is the incarnation of nature!”

After all, both orcs and druids revered the White Serpent as a god.

“And now, the incarnation of nature, the White Serpent, has commanded us.”

Chweek! Chwee-chwee-chweek!

As soon as the White Serpent was invoked, both druids and orcs became visibly agitated, their breaths growing heavier with excitement.

“It’s time for retribution.”

WOOOOOOOO!!

CHWEEEEEEK!!

With that declaration, the fifty elite warriors charged forward.

Unlike during the covert Sigma infiltration, there was no pretense or subtlety in this assault.

These white orcs and elite druids were each as powerful as high-ranking knights—by Northern standards, no less.

Moreover, their leaders, Nuchka and Hunster, were both superhuman, comparable to sword masters.

“Chweeeek!!”

“Kuwaaaaah!!”

And now, with most of the North’s strength focused on containing the White Serpent, the druids and orcs believed there were no Renslets left at the workshop capable of stopping them.

Or so they thought.