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

Chapter 113.1

Monster Wave (2)

Outside the wall.

Though they fought in the heart of enemy territory, neither the barbarians, monsters, nor orcs dared approach.

Dying by getting caught in the crossfire of a battle between superhumans and a monster was the most pointless kind of death.

‘They’re not here.’

‘The king of the Northern Orcs, Hunster, is missing.’

‘And so is the druid chieftain, Nuchka.’

While holding back Jörmungandr, Balzac, Isabelle, and Sun constantly surveyed the battlefield, their expressions growing darker.

‘If such key figures are absent...’

The trio naturally recalled an event from not too long ago.

[Yes, that’s correct.]

Their thoughts were interrupted by the telepathic voice of Jörmungandr—more precisely, its fourth heart, Isaac.

[The strike force led by the orc warlord and the druid chieftain is already en route to that industrial zone you call the workshop. Their arrival will be a success.]

“What? How?! The wall’s barriers should have been meticulously checked!”

Isabelle’s expression stiffened upon hearing Isaac’s words.

[They didn’t need to fly over it or climb it.]

Isaac’s telepathic tone dripped with mockery.

[Though I haven’t reached the 8th Circle, transporting a few dozen individuals is trivial when I draw upon the power of the White Serpent.]

“...!”

The thrill in Isaac’s voice as he boasted of his success was unmistakable.

“Balzac! Leave this to me and Sun—get to the workshop immediately!”

Isabelle urgently shouted, but—

[Not a chance.]

Isaac, now fully fused with Jörmungandr, had no intention of letting Balzac escape.

Flash-flash-flash!

Brilliant purple and green magic circles unfolded around the serpent, adding the destructive power of magic to its already overwhelming physical might. Ṙа₦O͍ᛒЕŝ

Jörmungandr’s appearance was now akin to that of a mythical dragon.

[A body akin to a dragon!]

[Magic akin to a dragon’s!]

[Who could possibly stand against this?]

The combined forces of Jörmungandr and the black sorcerer Isaac surged with menace. On top of that, several surviving black sorcerers from the demon Realm clung to the serpent’s back, bolstering its power.

“Indeed. Lately, we’ve been concerned about Her Highness’s stagnating growth,” Sun added with a nod.

“Though the concept of manageable danger is absurd, it’s true that a proper life-or-death trial was overdue.”

[...What are you talking about?]

Isaac, puzzled by their conversation, sent a telepathic message filled with disbelief.

[That’s your sovereign. How can you talk so casually? If Arina dies, the North is finished. The Renslet line ends.]

“At first, I thought the same. Honestly, I felt that way until moments ago.”

“Even imagining a North without Her Highness, without the Renslet line, fills me with dread.”

Balzac and Sun nodded, seemingly agreeing with Isaac’s words.

“But our perspective has shifted.”

“We realized that overprotecting Her Highness isn’t the Renslet way.”

[...What?]

The enormous white serpent tilted its head, its confusion evident.

[This makes no sense. Do you even know who’s approaching your sovereign right now? It’s Hunster, the king of the Northern Orcs—the very one who killed the previous Archduke, Baikal!]

“Which is why we should thank you, Isaac.”

[?!]

“For granting Her Highness the chance for vengeance.”

Isaac considered the possibility that they were bluffing, but...

[.......]

It was evident they meant every word.

“At this point, it’s unlikely we’d make it there in time even if we broke through the barrier.”

“So instead, we’ll turn this crisis into an opportunity.”

“And in the meantime, your focus on us has weakened the assault on the wall.”

[!!]

The fighting on the wall had indeed slowed.

Distracted by its exchange with the trio, Jörmungandr was no longer thrashing about as violently as before.

The soldiers, knights, and witches atop the wall managed to hold off the enemies scaling the icy ramps.

“They say there’s a beast in the South called the lion. To make its cubs stronger, it pushes them off cliffs—an admirable creature.”

The three continued to chat casually, as if buying time on purpose.

[You’re saying you’ll raise your sovereign as one raises a lion cub?]

Isaac’s incredulous tone echoed in Balzac’s mind.

“Well, something like that.”