Reincarnated as the Descendant of a Fallen Noble

Chapter 75: Hmm, is that really a good thing?

Outside the Ruslan Fortress.

 Kkieeeeeeegh!

“Take care of the one coming from the front first!”

“Yes, sir!”

Once again today, the knights and soldiers of Ruslan were engaged in fierce combat against the endlessly surging Frost Ghouls.

“Aaaargh! My arm! My arm!”

Yet again, someone’s shoulder was pierced by a shard flung by a Frost Ghoul.

“Goddaaaamn it! Just die already, you bastards!”

The knights’ swords cleaving through the Frost Ghouls carried raw emotion, as if they were fed up with the whole ordeal.

They looked utterly exhausted and weary.

Their expressions, their shouts, and their clenched teeth made them seem as precarious as a candle in the wind.

The scenery at Ruslan Fortress, which had been worsening day by day.

But today, something seemed a little different.

Just as the knights were deep in battle—

 Kkieeeeegh!

“It’s an Ice Hog!”

Spotting the Ice Hog charging forward while crushing the Ghouls, the knights quickly rushed toward the beast.

As if nothing else mattered, they even abandoned their defensive line to go after it.

 Kkiek! Kkiek!

“Flank it from the left!”

“Yes, sir!”

Then, from all directions, they lunged in and struck the beast with their blue, weapon-enchanted swords.

 Kkiek! Kkieeeegh!

The Ice Hog tried to resist in its own way, but they were all veteran knights of at least two-star rank.

In the end, it couldn’t last more than a few minutes...

Thud!

Its massive body collapsed onto the snow, blue blood gushing out.

“Fall back! Retrieve the carcass!”

“Yes, sir!”

Two knights grabbed the Ice Hog by its fur and began dragging it back toward the main gate.

Crunch! Crack!

 Gwoooar!

The remaining knights desperately fended off the surrounding Ghouls to cover their retreat.

When they finally neared the main gate—

“The knights are returning!”

“Open the gate!”

Creak! Boom!

The large wooden gate opened, and about seven soldiers rushed out from within to receive the Ice Hog’s corpse.

The fortress gate quickly shut behind them.

“Uuugh...!”

“Let’s go, hurry...!”

The soldiers strained to move the Ice Hog somewhere else, exerting all their strength.

As they passed, a trail of blue blood was left behind, and by the time their bodies were drenched in sweat—

“Huff, huff... Here’s the Ice Hog.”

“Y-Yes, thank you for your effort.”

At their destination, Beryl—painted all over in blue—stood awkwardly holding a sword in one hand, forcing a smile.

In that moment—

Chill!

A shadow fell over Beryl’s face as a grim expression emerged.

“Gasp!”

“...T-Thank you for your service.”

The frozen soldiers hesitated and quickly backed away, disappearing toward the gate in a hurry.

Beryl tilted their head at this.

“What the, what’s with them? They looked like they’d seen a ghost...”

“No idea.”

Did I mess up or something?

No matter how much Beryl thought about it, no answer came to mind.

‘It’s probably because of your face, boss.’

The Maw mercenary standing nearby knew the reason but couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Haaah... Let’s just get to work.”

“Yessir.”

“Grab that side.”

At Beryl’s instruction, another Maw mercenary pulled on the Ice Hog’s flesh to make it taut.

Squelch! Slice!

Beryl plunged the sword into it, pushed the flesh away, and dragged the blade through.

Crack! Rip!

As bone and meat separated, the flesh came off smoothly.

Given the Ice Hog’s sheer size and the toughness of its meat, it wasn’t an easy task, but thanks to Beryl’s past experience in butchering during his days as a bandit, the process went relatively smoothly.

After grappling with the Ice Hog for a while—

“Huff, huff, it’s done. Take it away.”

“Yes, sir!”

Beryl handed over the neatly separated meat to the waiting Maw mercenaries.

One of them grabbed it and ran quickly into another tent.

“Mikkelsen, more meat’s here.”

“...Already? I haven’t even finished this batch yet.”

“What can you do? They’re saying to hurry as much as possible.”

Inside the tent was Mikkelsen, crouched over and dropping white liquid on meat, then spreading it with his hands.

Dark shadows under his eyes and his miserable expression stood out.

Mikkelsen, with a resigned face, pointed to a pile of browned meat in the corner of the tent.

“Haahhh... That batch’s done. Take it.”

“Alright, hang in there. Hup!”

The Maw mercenary grabbed the neutralized meat and headed straight to the fortress center.

“Alright, let’s hustle!”

“Hey, bring more skewers over here!”

Now, a group of refugees could be seen busily working together on something.

On one side, they used sharpened stones to whittle wood into skewers, while on the other, they threaded pieces of Ice Hog meat onto those skewers.

The finished meat skewers were then sent to the central bonfire.

Sizzle! Crackle! Sizzle!

In front of the large bonfire, dozens of skewers were being grilled all at once.

“Line up, line up! Take turns! Hey, you—didn’t you already get in line earlier?”

“Ahaha... S-Sorry. The meat’s just so good, I couldn’t help myself...”

Right in the middle of it all was Hardin, blending in with the Maw mercenaries, grilling meat and overseeing the entire operation.

In the midst of this—

“Ahem!”

Hardin subtly bent down and picked up a skewer near the bonfire, bringing it toward his mouth.

Whack!

Just then, someone slapped Hardin’s hand away, and the skewer flew through the air.

The one who caught it again... was Princess Medeia.

“Haven’t you already eaten more than enough, Hardin Daphne?”

“Oh come now, must you be so uptight? I’m working hard here, can’t I have a few more?”

A crease formed between Medeia’s brows.

“Hardin Daphne, how many times must I say this? When you act like this... you dishonor Lord Varlach Daphne.”

“...Yes, yes.”

“When you eat more, someone else... ends up with less.”

“I get it already.”

That Varlach is me, me.

Can’t I insult myself a little? I’ve got meat dancing in front of my eyes here.

As Hardin let out a deep breath through his nose, Medeia glanced around while holding the skewer.

Then she approached an old woman crouched in a corner, blinking slowly.

She likely lacked the strength to even stand in line.

“Take it.”

“P-Princess...”

Medeia placed the meat into the old woman’s hands without hesitation and moved on.

The old woman bowed her head, but Medeia, unconcerned, immediately scanned her surroundings again and handed meat to other neglected individuals.

Watching this, Hardin thought to himself.

‘She hasn’t eaten since earlier, has she?’

He couldn’t recall ever seeing her eat.

As he paid closer attention, he got a better look at Medeia’s face.

She looked worn out, her cheeks sunken, her ankles unsteady.

Even while caring for the refugees, she seemed to be starving herself.

Hardin let out a quiet snort of amusement.

‘This kid... always trying to look cool.’

Was it a sense of duty as a princess or something?

Honestly, there was nothing strange about that scene.

Here, take this. I’m fine, so let Merilyn have it instead.

N-No, Princess. How could I possibly...

I really am fine, please.

Her great-aunt Linian often gave her desserts or rare foods to her maids and servants, starving herself in the process.

Whether it was innocence or altruism, Hardin couldn’t tell, but frankly, it wasn’t his style.

‘If I’m not healthy, I can’t protect anyone else.’

Still, if she wanted to act that way, he had no intention of stopping her...

Just as Hardin was blowing air through his nose again—

“Ahhh, Princess Medeia. Truly admirable.”

“...Huh?”

Standing right behind him, Malion continued with a satisfied smile and a nod.

“To see her personally interacting with each refugee and taking care of them... Where else could you find such a noble soul?”

Malion’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Medeia.

“Thank you! Truly, thank you, Princess!”

“You saved us!”

“Can’t wait to eat!”

Many refugees gazed at Medeia with eyes full of hope.

That gaze was so intense, so fervent, that it was almost hard to meet directly.

It clearly showed how sincerely everyone was relying on Medeia.

Watching this, Hardin spoke with a subtly complex expression.

“Hmm... I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think that kind of behavior is necessarily a good thing.”

Malion tilted his head and asked again.

“In what way?”

“She’s trying too hard.”

“Trying too hard?”

Hardin’s eyes briefly fixed on Medeia.

Princess Medeia was tirelessly taking care of soldiers, knights, and refugees alike, personally taking the lead.

She looked busy and energetic, but somehow... he occasionally saw her brow twitch.

Of course.

‘What is he even talking about?’

Malion couldn’t relate to that in the slightest.

Just then, Hardin let out a chuckle.

“Well, it’s not an urgent matter. Don’t mind it.”

“Even if you hadn’t said that, I wasn’t going to—”

This bastard?

When Hardin glared at him, Malion instinctively went on the defensive again.

At that moment—

“Hardin Daphne.”

“Yes?”

Snapping back to reality, they saw Princess Medeia standing before them.

“Stop loafing around and help out when you’ve got time.”

“No, it’s not like I was loafing around...”

“No excuses.”

Crack!

A vein popped on Hardin’s forehead.

“Hey now, I wasn’t making excuses...”

I pull this brat out from drowning, and now he wants my bundle too?

Linian was a literal angel, but why is her descendant such a brat...?

Just then—

Whoosh!

Malion, standing nearby, quickly pushed Hardin’s waist down and said,

“Ahaha! We’ll work hard, we really will. Thank you for the reminder, Princess!”

“...Come on, I’ve already been working hard. What more does she want?”

“Oh come on, big bro! You were totally goofing off just now!”

“I’m allowed to goof off! After busting my ass all this time, can’t I rest a little?”

Hardin and Malion clung to each other and bickered back and forth.

As the two of them continued to squabble—

Princess Medeia lifted a hand to cover her mouth for a moment.

“Pfft.”

A small sound escaped from her.

“Huh?”

When Hardin and Malion both turned toward her, she quickly lowered her hand and spoke.

“Ahem! Well then... let’s all stay focused.”

As she walked away, Hardin scratched his head and asked,

“What was that just now?”

“Well, I don’t know?”

The two blinked at each other in sync.

---

Late at night, light snow was falling over Ruslan Fortress.

“Grrrrrrr...”

Beyond the mountain range, a few Frost Ghouls were trudging toward the fortress.

“Fire.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shhhk! Shhhhk!

Soldiers atop the ramparts loosed arrows, taking down the beasts and guarding the peace of the night.

There were some difficulties, but compared to the times when hundreds or even thousands swarmed in, this was an incredibly peaceful scene.

Meanwhile, on top of a secluded section of the fortress wall—

“Hooo... Haaa...”

Hardin sat quietly, eyes shut tightly as he calmed his breathing.

Each time he exhaled, tiny, faint blue particles—barely visible even with close observation—gradually entered through his mouth.

Through Blue Hole, the mana training method of Wave Swordsmanship, he was absorbing mana from the vast Ruslan Mountains.

They said joy comes after pain, and thanks to that, the mana core inside Hardin’s belly...

“Damn it, why the hell isn’t this thing growing?”

Hardin opened his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

He then reached out and touched his lower abdomen on a whim.

Within the dark space, he could feel a core barely larger than a pinky nail.

He had been carefully nurturing it for over half a year now...

‘At this rate, maybe I’ve reached the level of a two-star veteran?’

With this much mana, he could probably become a knight commander in a small barony or viscounty.

Even this level was considered extraordinary progress by most people.

The mana core definitely had its advantages.

‘But at this pace, when the hell...’

Thinking back to the days when he was Varlach Daphne, Hardin couldn’t help but sigh deeply.

On top of that—

“Ugh...”

As Hardin flared his nostrils, a foul stench suddenly hit him and made him gag.

The smell of Abyss Beetles mixed with the rancid scent of meat had completely clung to his nose.

Fighting back the nausea, Hardin slowly shook his head.

‘Nothing’s easy, nothing at all.’

Building a port, regaining his strength...

None of it seemed like a big deal when he had it, but now that he was trying to get it back, it was absolute hell.

Hardin scratched his forehead roughly and looked out over the scene ahead.

Tents scattered all over, soldiers filling their bellies by roasting meat over campfires.

The entire view of the fortress spread out before him.

‘As expected... nothing ever works unless big brother’s around.’

Back then, how the hell did he manage all of this?

“......”

As Hardin sank into needless sentimentality, his gaze dimmed while watching the fortress.

“Hardin Daphne.”

“Hm?”

At the voice coming from beside him, he turned his head to see someone standing there with arms crossed.

“What are you doing here at this hour?”

“What about you? What are you doing here?”

With snow-like white hair and eyes as red as embroidered roses.

It was the Fourth Princess, Medeia Fabian.