Chapter 49: Peaceful Daily Life

“Haap! Ei! Yaaat!”  

The youthful shouts echoed through the courtyard.  

“Very good, young master. That spirit is exactly right. The most important thing when facing monsters is not to be afraid. Never forget that.”  

The wooden sword, custom-made for a child, cut through the air in a rough arc.

The knight instructing the training maintained a stern demeanor throughout but occasionally revealed a satisfied look.

Whether he knew it or not, the boy, Barand Aleph, wore an expression of utmost seriousness.  

“Alright, that’s enough for today. Well done, young master. You did excellently again today.”  

“Thank you… haa, phew, thank you! Sir Teiroi, you worked hard too!”  

Barand sheathed his wooden sword and stood at attention, bowing respectfully.

The knight’s stern expression from moments ago was gone, replaced by a bright smile as he returned the greeting.

Barand, shy yet sincere, smiled back.  

Their closeness resembled that of parent and child, but in truth, the special relationship between them wasn’t unique.

Barand was beloved by everyone in the House of Aleph.

Just like someone from over a decade ago.  

‘Barand is doing well. He’s always a child who surpasses my expectations.’  

Under the shade of a tree a little distance away, Mione Aleph quietly observed the scene with a composed, settled expression.  

Barand was growing smoothly—in both body and mind.

He learned two or three things for every one taught.

Always humble, never losing his manners or composure even with those beneath him.

He was a bright child, as if painted by a master’s hand.  

Perhaps because of this, Mione sometimes saw visions overlapping Barand’s figure—someone now long dead.

Each time, she was startled by the pang of regret she felt.  

‘This is right. Excessive genius often becomes poison. For oneself and for those around.’  

Geniuses typically attract jealousy more than admiration.

Yet when genius crosses into incomprehensible territory, ordinary people shift from fear to reverence.

Everyone around blindly follows that one genius, and eventually, the entire system restructures itself around him.

Without him, it collapses, but while he remains, the system functions with unmatched efficiency.  

Mione regarded this as the inherent malignancy of genius.

Whether the genius is good or evil matters little in this case.

Evil geniuses are dangerous, but good geniuses are no less so.  

What if a good genius changes his mind?

What if he dies young from an accident or disease?

If the core of the system is lost without preparation?  

Those gathered around him become a rudderless ship abandoned on a vast sea.

Society may not collapse at once, but it will suffer a severe, hard-to-recover blow.  

Mione knew these were extreme thoughts.

She once thought no such devilish genius existed in reality—at least until she met Naia and Zion over ten years ago.  

It was the first time Naia stepped out of the Aleph Territory for an official appearance after years of never leaving.  

Upon arriving at Aleph Castle, Naia eloquently discussed the architectural and artistic merits and flaws of the castle.

She immediately pinpointed strategic vulnerabilities and proposed countermeasures.

At least theoretically, there was nothing to fault—a conclusion later reached by academy architects after debate.

That day was also Naia’s first time seeing the castle in person.  

Her genius didn’t end there.

Interacting with many attendees, including the Empire’s Fifth Prince Klavis, Naia displayed unfathomably deep knowledge multiple times.

Even some narrow-minded, outdated nobles obsessed with superiority ultimately slinked away before her.  

But Mione’s attention focused more on the six-year-old boy accompanying Naia than on Naia herself.

She could forgive Naia—after all, she was a mature adult with ample experience.

But what was this boy who stuck closely to her, never missing a word, sometimes adding chillingly precise comments?

Was it truly humanly possible to bear such frightening genius?  

That day, Mione realized what true fear was.

Ironically, it awakened the cold, rational political talent deeply sleeping in her heart.  

Until then, she had paid little attention to King Simos’s subtle plan to reincorporate the Aleph Territory.

It was obviously a reckless plan.

But since that day, Mione actively expanded her influence and voiced her opinions boldly.  

One by one, the towers she built painstakingly began to bear fruit, leading to the present.  

“Mother! Were you watching?!”  

Barand, loosening his stiff limbs and preparing to return to the manor, spotted Mione and ran up.

She shook off her thoughts and welcomed her son with a gentle smile.  

“Of course I was watching. Seeing our Barand working so hard, I couldn’t look away.”  

“I-I’m embarrassed. I still have much to improve. I’ll work even harder!”  

“Diligence is good, but it’s just as important to rest properly. Don’t forget, if you overwork yourself and collapse from exhaustion, not only Barand but many people around you will suffer.”  

“Uu… understood, Mother. But brother Zion must have been far greater than me…”  

At the sudden mention of that name, Mione quickly pressed her lips together, wary of an unintended voice escaping.

Fortunately, her unease calmed sooner than expected.

She encouraged the sulking Barand with a soft expression.  

“Everyone has things they’re good at and things they’re not. Zion had weaknesses you simply don’t know about. So Barand, there’s no need to rush. You’ll surely grow to be as great, if not greater, than Zion.”  

“Really?”  

“Of course. Or do you not believe me?”  

“Not at all! If Mother says so, it must be true! I will definitely become the man worthy of your expectations!”  

“Hehe, I’ll be waiting.”  

As she stroked her son’s head, Mione suddenly looked into the distance.

She had no intention of revealing the truth to Barand—not now, not even after he was fully grown.

It was enough that she herself bore the guilt.

She wanted Barand to walk only on a cleanly prepared path, leaving all the dirty, grueling matters to herself.  

It was clearly a kind of mission born from the conviction that no system should be entrusted entirely to the malignant genius of an individual.

Yet if you asked Mione now whether she still acted out of that sense of duty, she would find it hard to answer.  

Having a child, giving birth, connecting with him—when she truly felt like a mother, she underwent an irreversible, profound change.

Though she did not forget her duty, something far more important had taken its place.  

‘Barand, everything is prepared for you. Prepared by me. So don’t worry about a thing.’  

It was a fierce and pure maternal love that would commit the horrific crime of maliciously isolating an innocent boy and ultimately killing him in a staged accident.  

Mione Aleph—the cold-hearted politician, the terrible killer, and a mother ready to sacrifice anything for her son.  

***

“Hup! .Hah!”  

Early dawn.

The cool air heavy with mist trembled vigorously in time with the strong kiai.

Dew scattered from the leaves, reflecting Zion’s figure standing in a clearing.  

“Phew…! Hah!”  

Zion paused briefly, then resumed his movements.

The blade flashed dazzlingly in the dawn light.

A vertical, powerful strike.

Just before the tip touched the ground, he twisted to defend.

The relentless motions churned up the earth beneath his feet.

Morning training—it had become so familiar it was almost part of daily life.  

“Haa…!”  

Suddenly, Zion’s movements transformed dramatically—larger and rougher.

Matching the motion, the spectral aura shifted.

Wielding a halberd taller than himself with skill, he imagined the Mist Giant he had fought the day before.  

‘I missed it foolishly then, but if the same situation arises again…’  

Zion’s movements halted completely.

Fixing his gaze on the nonexistent enemy ahead, he carefully positioned himself like an artist putting the final stroke on a painting.  

A thrust at the shortest distance, at maximum speed.

An absolute hit impossible to dodge even by sight.  

‘Next time, I won’t miss.’  

A mirage-like heatwave shimmered above his shoulder, followed by the halo phenomenon unique to Awakened Ones as MP radiated.

At that moment, Zion stomped on the ground.

His figure vanished like a mirage, then reappeared nearly ten meters away almost instantly.

The earth was violently disturbed, raising a thick cloud of dust.

“Bang!” A shockwave accompanied the sound pursuing his speed, dispersing the dawn mist.  

[Completely different from when we first met.] Frey Alkoth muttered unconsciously in admiration.

Zion, paused with his blade extended, resumed movement at the voice.

His expression was far from satisfied.  

“I think I could move faster…”  

[Anyone who can move faster than sound sure is greedy. Why don’t you try moving faster than light next?]

“That sounds good. No matter how fast a runner runs, surely not faster than light.”  

[No, you crazy bastard, come on. I was joking.]

“I know, haha.”  

[Hah! This guy’s turning into a sly fox. Wonder who he takes after.]

[Uuuh? That just came from Frey? This is the least funny joke I’ve ever heard in my life.]

[What? You say I’m like him? Damn it, I knew it!]

[You’re the one I’m talking about!]

“Both of you, stop fighting. It’s a waste of time.”  

After finishing the light morning training came magic lessons—about an hour daily.

These short but intense sessions were taught directly by Frey, the strongest mage on Earth.  

Compared to the theory-heavy magic of this world, Earth’s magic had developed strictly as tactics for practical combat.

Thus, Frey’s teachings sometimes conflicted directly with Zion’s theoretical knowledge.

But that didn’t mean his lessons were useless.

His intuitive explanations, reflecting his personality, were easy to grasp.

Whenever theories clashed, Frey would immediately create more advanced theories on the spot—a wondrous feat.  

Though his aggressive personality made it easy to overlook, Frey deeply understood the theoretical side of magic.

The title of Earth’s strongest mage was no exaggeration.  

Arcs didn’t just watch idly either.

Having realized the usefulness of Artifacts in fighting lust, Zion actively sought her teachings.

Arcs chose to create textbooks organizing all the theories she knew, from basics to advanced.

Just a few days ago, the basic course book had been completed, and Zion absorbed the theories whenever he had spare moments on the journey.  

Frey and Arcs delighted in watching their disciple rapidly grow, while Zion was immersed in the joy of acquiring unknown knowledge—a virtuous cycle complete.  

[Good work. Let’s call it a day.]

“Already time for breakfast. Thanks for your hard work, Uncle.”  

[No big deal.]

Returning to camp, Zion was greeted by the appetizing aroma of mushroom soup.

Since leaving the capital, the most dramatic change for their group had been their diet.

The all-around maid Soares, once head servant of the imperial palace’s attendants, shone spectacularly here.

Compared to the old days of starting with dried, hard rations, now every day was like heaven.  

“Finished with training? Well done. I’ve prepared damp towels for you to freshen up. Breakfast is also ready.”  

“Thank you for everything, Soares.”  

“Hehe, don’t mention it. Part of the fun of traveling is everyone doing what they do best.”  

Her thanks mixed with lighthearted humility.

Polite but never distant.

Zion liked this refreshing closeness.  

“Ah! Zion, training’s over?”  

Yuria, soaked in sweat, returned to camp last.

Following Soares’s orders, she too had been busy training daily.

Her growth was just as remarkable.  

A modest yet hearty breakfast began atop the wagon, modified so the side walls could fold out horizontally.

Notably, the group wasn’t just Zion, Yuria, and Soares; Frey’s avatar was casually included.

No particular reason—it was just to enjoy Soares’s cooking.  

At first, Zion was baffled that Frey spent precious MP for such trivial reasons, but by now he accepted it.

Summoning him for five minutes each morning was no longer a burden, and Frey took care to do so only when it was safe.

In a way, it was a testament to Soares’s exceptional culinary skills.

After all, as Arcs once said, Frey’s palate was quite discerning.  

Though the journey proceeded peacefully and smoothly, Zion harbored a quiet dissatisfaction—a small frustration.

Compared to his rapid progress in magic and Artifact engineering, his swordsmanship growth lately felt sluggish.

Perhaps it was greed, but such ambition wasn’t entirely bad.  

[I knew you’d say that, so I prepared something.]  

When Zion casually consulted Frey, the latter answered as if waiting for the question.  

[I’m planning to summon Atlas and Saint soon. Those two will know the answers you’re looking for.]