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◆ Entangled, and Entangling Others.

The Thanksgiving Banquet, my first evening gala, was to be held in the same grand hall within the Royal Castle.

Thus, the attendees of the Coming-of-Age Ceremony were directed to a waiting chamber before the banquet could begin.

Following protocol, the high-ranking nobles departed first, proceeding in order of precedence.

And so, I was among the last to leave the Royal Castle’s Grand Hall.

By that time, preparations for the banquet were well underway.

Tables—large and small—were being arranged throughout the hall, and an array of dishes, enticingly fragrant, were carried in from the royal kitchens.

Attendants set out drinks, adjusted the brightness of the magical chandeliers, and meticulously cleaned any spots that marred the pristine hall.

The maids and footmen of the Royal Castle, supervised by senior palace attendants, carried out their duties diligently and with pride—ensuring the banquet would proceed without flaw.

Watching them work so earnestly stirred my heart.

Yes… This castle is maintained by individuals of steadfast discipline and unwavering integrity.

I committed this thought to memory and, as a sign of my respect, I offered them a knightly salute before exiting the hall.

It was merely self-satisfaction, I knew.

Yet, their serious devotion to duty deserved recognition.

And as someone of barely noble rank, I saw nothing improper in expressing my respect for them.

For the high nobility, such meticulous service was merely something to be expected—unworthy of particular notice.

But for a knight’s house, it was only natural to acknowledge and respect the diligence of those who took pride in their work.

It was not a matter of rank, but of the dignity of the individual.

Though, of course, I was well aware that such conduct was likely viewed as strange here in the Royal Capital.

Upon leaving the hall, I unexpectedly found him standing there, accompanied by his betrothed.

“So, that is the spirit of the frontier, is it?”

“What are you on about?”

“The ones to whom you offered your respect. I have heard that the knightly class leads lives little different from commoners. And yet, you are still nobility. Upholding the duties and purpose of the aristocracy is a principle inscribed in the Kingdom’s laws. But enforcing such ideals… is difficult, especially here in the Capital and its environs.”

“My family governs land bordering the Cursed Forest, where monstrous creatures roam. There, people toil relentlessly, never knowing peace. No fool would fail to respect those who give their all to their duties in such conditions.”

“I see… I see indeed. ‘The Kingdom’s honor lies in its frontiers.’ His Majesty truly possesses keen insight.”

For some reason, the marquis’ son gazed at me with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

And behind him, his betrothed similarly regarded me with unexpected consideration.

Just then, a woman of noble bearing approached us and addressed me.

Judging by her attire, she was undoubtedly a senior court attendant.

“A message for the young master of the knight’s house. For the Thanksgiving Banquet, you are to attend in a separate chamber. This is a direct order.”

“May I confirm your identity, esteemed lady?”

“I serve as Chief Lady-in-Waiting of the Royal Harem.”

“And from whom does this command originate?”

“A personage of high standing. This is a private order, and thus, conveyed orally rather than by formal decree.”

I see.

I have been dragged into something troublesome.

The Chief Lady-in-Waiting of the Royal Harem—one of the highest-ranking officials in the palace—had personally sought me out.

A mere third son of a knight’s house, barely above a commoner, was being summoned to a separate room for the banquet.

And the person giving this order… was being deliberately obscured.

If she was unwilling to disclose the identity of the one who summoned me, then that individual must be someone whose name could not be spoken lightly.

Moreover, considering her rank and position, I could hazard a guess.

The Royal Harem oversaw the private affairs of the royal family.

If even she refused to name the one who called me, then the order must have come from a royal or someone of comparable status.

I stole a glance at him.

He, too, was clearly deep in thought, processing the situation.

Yes… I should drag him into this as well.

If I must be caught up in this, then I shall bring him along.

It was entirely possible I would not be able to handle this alone.

And besides, he was the son of the Minister of Military Affairs, a noble of high standing.

He was far more accustomed to dealing with important figures than I.

Yes, this was the best course of action.

“Esteemed Lady-in-Waiting, I have a companion whom I consider a dear friend. If he could accompany me, I would find great reassurance in his presence. Would this be acceptable?”

“A… friend, you say?”

“Yes. If one is willing to gift such a fine ceremonial outfit to a mere third son of a knight’s house, would that not qualify them as a true friend?”

“I see… So the Minister of Military Affairs’ son sees things clearly. Indeed… I see.”

For a brief moment, a faint smile crossed her noble face.

This seemed to genuinely surprise him.

His betrothed, however, looked utterly bewildered.

Her wide-eyed expression of shock was barely concealed behind her elegantly spread fan.

And yet, despite her best efforts, I noticed her fingers trembling as they grasped his sleeve.

Hm… she was a typical noblewoman, I supposed.

In contrast, only someone like that Grand Duke’s daughter—the one rumored to be the future Queen and Mother of the Nation—would likely remain composed in such a scenario.

With a quiet ‘Very well’, the Chief Lady-in-Waiting turned and led us toward a grand staircase, ascending to the higher levels of the castle.

◆ A Discord Among Royal Siblings

“His Majesty the King’s campaign when he was Crown Prince… More than twenty years have already passed.”

“A timeless chapter of history. Even now, I am certain His Majesty recalls the scenes of that time with vivid clarity.”

“He has always upheld the principle of being ever-prepared for war, yet more than any noble, he despises battle. That is because the ‘honor’ and ‘pride’ he has witnessed on the battlefield were seared into his memory.”

“Indeed. And yet, should the need arise, His Majesty would wield his power without hesitation. He does not resort to force lightly, for he understands all too well that its exercise means the loss of countless lives.”

“He cannot help but remember those who collapsed upon the battlefield, coughing up blood. His Majesty is a ruler of profound compassion. He values the talented and the capable, those who contribute to the welfare of the people. And above all, he bears the burden of those common-born soldiers—those without noble titles—who perished as mere foot soldiers in war. To shoulder such a weight… No ordinary man could endure it. He is truly fit to be king. ‘A ruler who does not grieve for those who fall in service of the kingdom is unworthy of the throne’… Was that not the phrase?”

“That was the decree of the previous Archbishop. However, for the heir apparent of the Minister of Military Affairs to utter such words… Is it not somewhat disrespectful?”

“Oh? You mean to say you were unaware? The appointed successor now serves under the Second Prince. I, on the other hand, must carve my own path within the military. Whatever role awaits me, I must claim it with my own strength.”

“That is how you see it. Yet, do you not think the situation may change when the time comes?”

“The weight of such a position is far too great. Regardless of whom one serves, the Minister of Military Affairs is the kingdom’s symbol of power. They must navigate the ambitions of the military aristocracy, strategize victories in battle, and minimize casualties. They must work in concert with the Ministers of Foreign Affairs and Internal Affairs to ensure His Majesty’s peace of mind. To accept that honor means devoting one’s entire life to it. The next king must embody the ideal of peace. A person with power must restrain that power… My father has taken on an unenviable task indeed.”

“You see the burden well. That is why I believed you would one day take up the mantle of Minister of Military Affairs.”

“You give me too much credit. But… that attire suits you well. You could easily be mistaken for a real strategist.”

“I appreciate the generosity. When I return home to the frontier, I shall be sure to boast of it to my family.”

“Hah! Good. You amuse me, truly. We shall meet again later at the banquet.”

“As you will.”

His fiancée—his noble betrothed—furrowed her brows slightly at our casual exchange.

I care little. We shall never meet again.

Once I return to my homeland, I will never again cross paths with her, let alone her future self as the lady of his house.

Like a storm, he came and went, a nobleman who moved as he pleased.

Because of his carefree nature, many looked down upon him.

Yet in truth, he was observant, perceptive, and meticulous in his gathering of information.

He could assemble fragments of knowledge and infer unseen realities—an ability that set him apart from other men of our generation.

His future successes would surely benefit the kingdom.

I could only hope he would become a steadfast guardian of the realm.

At last, the appointed hour arrived, and the grand Coming-of-Age Ceremony commenced.

Presiding in place of His Majesty the King was the First Prince.

Born to a secondary consort, he was widely acknowledged as an exceptional man.

The rumors surrounding him were almost always favorable.

The only disappointment was that he had yet to take a princess consort.

Apparently, a betrothal arranged before his enrollment at the Magic Academy had been annulled for unknown reasons.

Whether the issue lay with the First Prince or his former fiancée remained shrouded in the mysteries of the royal family.

However, the fact remained—he had not been disinherited or exiled, and his ex-fiancée had married into foreign nobility.

That alone was telling.

So even a prince is not free from the burdens of dealing with women…

One day, he would have to take a princess consort.

It was clear this would be a matter of great political importance.

And if genuine affection were to arise from such a match, it would be ideal for the kingdom.

In contrast, the Second Prince stood below the ceremonial dais, receiving the white cravat of adulthood from his elder brother.

His fiancée was the daughter of the Grand Duke.

Moreover, he was the son of the Queen Consort—his royal lineage made it inevitable that he would be declared Crown Prince.

By bloodline alone, it was all but certain.

It was a natural conclusion, a decision that had already been prepared and gradually communicated throughout the kingdom’s upper echelons.

Yet… was it truly so certain?

The Grand Duke’s daughter had once warned me, in veiled words, that the Second Prince was undergoing a trial.

And it was not war, but my former betrothed and her ilk—the ones deemed undesirable—who were serving as the proving ground.

This included the Second Prince’s own retinue, whose loyalties were being tested within the Magic Academy itself.

Thus, I had been instructed to stay away, to avoid interfering.

More than that—I had been ordered to sever all ties with my former fiancée.

I could only hope that a favorable outcome would be reached.

From where I stood, I observed the First Prince upon the ceremonial dais and the Second Prince below.

There was an unmistakable tension in the air.

The gaze of the First Prince, and the way the Second Prince received it—the meaning behind their eyes was unsettling.

The more I thought about it, the more foreboding the situation seemed.

The expressions of the high-ranking nobles watching them were divided—some bore pity, while others veiled their mockery.

Soon, the formal announcement of the Crown Prince’s investiture would be made.

But by then, I would have returned to the frontier.

I, a mere low-ranking noble, would hear of it only long after the decision had been made.

I could only pray that the kingdom’s rulers would make a wise choice for the future.

The ceremony proceeded smoothly.

Each young noble coming of age was presented with a pure white cravat, marking their official entry into the aristocracy.

My elder brothers had undergone this ritual in the sanctuary of our domain, overseen by the knightly order of our house.

To be the only one among them granted the honor of attending a royal ceremony felt somewhat humbling.

Yet I told myself it was merely because of my inner magic reserves—nothing more.

◆ A Glimpse of the Kingdom’s Authority

Today was the day of the Second Coming-of-Age Ceremony.

Donning the formal attire prepared for me, I was struck by how perfectly it fit my frame.

At sixteen years old, my physique was still far from fully developed, which meant that this ceremonial attire would only ever be worn once.

The sheer cost of such a suit—meant to be worn for but a single day—was a testament to the extravagance of a marquess’s son.

I could only offer a wry smile in response.

Usually, I made do with the slightly oversized uniforms issued by the Magic Academy, garments meant to account for physical growth.

As I examined my reflection in the dormitory’s mirror, a proverb from my previous life came to mind:

“Even a simple stable boy may appear noble in fine clothes.”

Here I was, a rough-hewn youth from the frontier, yet with the right attire, I almost looked… presentable.

Yesterday, I had taken the time to trim my hair at the dorm’s facilities.

My face, though ordinary, now carried a sharper, more determined look.

With the fine fabrics of this formal wear draping me, and a sword at my hip, I could almost pass for a proper knight.

Naturally, there were no badges or insignias upon my collar, no medals upon my chest.

The simplicity of my attire was reminiscent of the National Military’s Reserve Staff Officers.

That must have been his intention all along.

Sliding my feet into my well-worn but meticulously polished shoes, I stepped out of my dormitory.

The weight of the formal attire seemed to straighten my spine, compelling me to move with an air of dignity.

Recalling the etiquette lessons drilled into us at the Magic Academy, I resolved to act with the same grace and composure as the attire I wore demanded.

Walking through the dormitory, I could sense the curious gazes of my classmates and the subtle warmth of attention from their fiancées.

Emerging onto the front drive, I was greeted by the sight of utter chaos.

Many students were boarding carriages arranged by their families, each noble and lady making their way to the ceremony based on their rank and status.

Today’s Coming-of-Age Ceremony would usually be held at the Grand Auditorium of the Magic Academy.

However, with a member of the royal family reaching adulthood this year, the ceremony had been moved to the Great Hall of the Royal Castle.

It was something of a tradition.

I, of course, had neither the opportunity nor the funds to arrange for a carriage.

Thus, I would be walking to the ceremony.

The distance between the Magic Academy and the Royal Castle was not far.

With the strength and stamina I had built in the Knight Division’s physical training, I would arrive in less than a quarter of an hour.

Passing through the noble district, I couldn’t help but marvel at the magnificent residences lining the streets.

In comparison, my family’s frontier estate was little more than a barn.

As I gazed upon these grand and beautiful buildings, thoughts of home welled up within me.

Home—a place near the Monster Forest, a land constantly under the threat of magical beasts.

Our lives had always been under siege, our household perpetually on alert.

Living in the royal capital, where there was no threat to one’s life, felt like an entirely different world.

Yet this sense of safety bred a different kind of barrier between people, one I had never felt in the frontier.

In the frontier, danger was an ever-present shadow, and people formed strong bonds, speaking openly, watching out for one another, and working together for mutual survival.

Here in the royal capital, there was no such unity.

A faint, self-deprecating smile curled upon my lips.

At the Magic Academy, I had never truly formed a close friendship.

There were acquaintances, certainly, but they were all driven by some ulterior motive.

Conversely, the faculty had always treated me kindly, providing me with guidance and support.

But I knew my place—I was not meant to thrive in the capital.

My life belonged to the frontier, and I was content with that.

It was still early in the day, and the sun’s rays were gentle as I arrived at the White Castle, the seat of our kingdom’s power.

This castle was more than just the political heart of the nation—it was home to the King, the Queen Consort, and the royal family.

It exuded an aura of authority and dignity that made it clear why this place was beyond the reach of someone like me, the third son of a minor noble.

I offered a silent prayer of gratitude for the chance to step foot in such a place.

At the castle gates, I presented my identification as a student of the Magic Academy.

The guards’ surprise was palpable.

Perhaps they had not expected anyone to arrive on foot—much less without an attendant.

They requested proof of my status.

The Academy’s Certificate of Enrollment was a document impossible to replicate, and anyone caught forging it would lose their life.

Once the guards recognized me as an attendee of the Coming-of-Age Ceremony, their demeanor shifted, and they treated me with the appropriate respect.

I held no grudge against them.

In fact, I was moved by their dedication to duty.

As a mark of respect, I offered them a proper knight’s salute.

For someone raised in the frontier, where honor and pride were the lifeblood of our way of life, showing respect to those who performed their duties with integrity came as second nature.

The guards seemed genuinely surprised by my gesture.

Perhaps it was unusual for a low-ranking noble to salute the castle guards so formally.

Inside the Great Hall, I found myself marveling at its grandeur.

Even with all the Magic Academy students present, the hall seemed almost sparse.

It was only when the students’ families were admitted that it began to feel like the Academy’s training grounds—just barely.

Standing against the wall, I observed the hall’s exquisite décor, taking note of the paintings depicting the achievements of past kings.

Each piece was a masterwork, capturing pivotal moments in our kingdom’s history.

Battles fought, victories won, desperate retreats—each painting honored the deeds of those who led from the frontlines.

The royal family’s legacy of blood and valor was immortalized on these walls, a testament to their enduring dedication to our kingdom’s peace.

I could not help but be moved.

The royal family had shed noble blood upon the farthest frontiers, their honor forged and lost in battle.

Their unwavering desire for peace resonated deeply with me.

As a son of the frontier, I knew that I must carry on that legacy, bringing safety and tranquility to my homeland.

This was my duty, my pride as a son of a knight’s house.

With renewed resolve, I focused my gaze upon a painting depicting the current King’s campaign as Crown Prince—a scene of valor that encapsulated his spirit.

In that moment, a clear, light voice reached my ears.

◆ The Nature of Friendship Among High Nobles

The offer came from a classmate—though not one with whom I had shared much in the way of interaction.

Something in his web of intelligence must have caught onto certain scattered fragments, piecing them together until, ultimately, my name surfaced within the unfolding circumstances.

It would not be unreasonable to assume that, having deduced this much, he determined that extending a favor to me might, in time, yield benefits for his family.

Even if it did not, there was no real harm in doing so.

Gaining a connection in the frontier was, at the very least, not without merit.

After all, what was a single ceremonial dress uniform to him?

The cost of a ready-made formal suit, appropriate for the occasion in question, was likely no more than a fraction of what he would spend on a mere trinket for his betrothed.

Thus, at his behest, I met with him the following day.

The carriage that awaited me was a grand affair of polished ebony, its craftsmanship exquisite beyond words.

Of the many noble carriages that frequented the aristocratic district, I had never before seen one of such splendor.

The family crest upon its door marked it unmistakably as belonging to a marquess’s house.

Was it truly appropriate for me to accept this invitation?

Even as doubt gnawed at the edges of my thoughts, I was ushered aboard.

The seats, upholstered in the finest velvet, were softer than clouds themselves.

The soundproofed interior held a hush so profound, it might have been a moving reception hall.

Had it been wise to follow him without question?

As I pondered the thought, the carriage came to a smooth halt before a single storefront.
― A Tailor of Unmistakable Prestige ―

Nestled near the heart of the noble district stood a tailor of evident renown.

From its solid, dignified façade alone, one could infer the magnitude of its clientele.

The entrance, set back from the main street, bespoke a deliberate design—this establishment expected its customers to arrive by carriage.

Ordinary merchants would never afford such an extravagance.

In the prized real estate of the royal capital, sacrificing usable space merely for the convenience of arrivals and departures was unthinkable.

Yet here it was.

Which meant… this was a shop frequented exclusively by the highest echelons of nobility.

Hmph.

Skill alone would not be enough to secure such clientele.

No—status, history, and prestige were at play here.

The very fact that one had commissioned attire from this establishment was itself a mark of status.

If I misstepped here, even slightly, the repercussions would be swift.

Steeling myself, I observed the storefront with a wary gaze, tension setting into my shoulders.

My companion noticed and smirked.

As if to say: You understand, don’t you? Exactly what sort of place this is?

His knowing amusement did nothing to ease my apprehension.

Completely indifferent to my unease, he strode forward and opened the door.
― A Suit Commissioned in Mere Hours ―

“Welcome, young master. What brings you to us today?”

“I need a formal suit tailored. Immediately. If you begin at once, it should be done within four hours, correct? Ensure that it does not disgrace my house. Ah, not for me—for him.”

“…Understood.”

The middle-aged tailor, clearly the master of this esteemed establishment, bowed deeply in deference.

Though his keen eyes scrutinized my companion, he refrained from comment.

The same could not be said for me.

With an intensity akin to a blade’s edge, he turned his gaze upon me, surveying from head to toe, then back again.

Measuring.

Assessing.

Calculating.

And in mere moments, he had arrived at some unknown conclusion.

“This way. Precise measurements are required.”

I was left with no choice but to comply.

Had I resisted, I might have disrupted the craftsmen’s work—and that, in turn, would reflect poorly upon my companion.

No, here… I would simply yield.

Evidently, this tailor had an exclusive arrangement with my companion’s family.

For despite the unreasonable demand, he had accepted it without hesitation—and proceeded to make it a reality.

But wait—

Something was amiss.

The formal attire I was to receive would be of a quality befitting a marquess’s house.

Yet… how could such a thing be completed in mere hours?

This was bespoke tailoring.

How was it possible to take my measurements, construct a provisional fitting in two hours, adjust the finer details through four rounds of refinement, and complete the garment in four hours total?

What manner of insane efficiency was this?

The frontier’s common sense held no meaning here.

This was the royal capital.

Or more precisely—this was the prowess of high nobility laid bare before me.

“…The young master’s friend possesses quite the remarkable physique.”

“Naturally. His training sets him apart.”

“It brings to mind the valiant knights of your household—and even your esteemed father in his younger years.”

“Hmph! So? Whose pattern did you use?”

“…That, dear young master, is a trade secret.”

The master tailor allowed himself a sly grin, running a hand over the measuring tape draped around his neck.

Upon confirming this, my companion’s lips curled into a satisfied, almost mischievous smirk.

He then gave a brief nod before turning toward the door.

“Bill it to my house,” he instructed.

And just like that, the transaction was settled.

I was handed a single, exquisitely crafted garment bag—far too lavish for someone of my standing.

The sheer weight of it in my grasp felt alien, a stark reminder of the vast disparity between our stations.

But a gift was a gift.

And I would accept it in kind.

**”Shoes, undergarments—you have your own, yes? The bag contains a full formal set. You do know how to dress yourself properly, don’t you? You may be a knight’s son, but you’re still nobility.

…Well, I suppose it hardly matters. Neither of us hold rank or office, so we’ve no medals to wear. This will suffice.”**

“For the son of a marquess to prepare something of this value for the third son of a mere knight’s house… is it not excessive? What, then, is the price?”

“…Just remember me.”

His tone was casual, but the words carried weight.

“Everything has its calculations. I’ll leave it to you to infer my intent.”

I nodded slowly.

“I see… I understand.”

It was not pure benevolence.

There was an unmistakable pragmatism in the gesture.

But that, too, was something I would accept.

At that moment, I could not have foreseen just how deeply entwined our fates would become—nor that this relationship would stretch on for years to come.

All I knew was that I owed him a debt.

And I would see it repaid.

◆ The Calculations of One Who Watches Over the Lone Warrior

The Coming-of-Age Ceremony—an event marking the moment when a noble’s child turns sixteen and is formally recognized as an adult.

Even in my homeland, the frontier, a grand feast is held.

At the church, one pledges themselves as an adult noble, swearing to serve both the people and their house.

However, in the royal capital, the ceremony takes on a different form.

Instead of swearing before God, one swears allegiance to His Majesty, the King, as a shield of the realm.

Though, truth be told, the King himself only attends once every five years.

Most years, a royal representative presides over the event in His Majesty’s stead.

And this year, it was to be the Second Prince.

Two years ago, when the First Prince came of age, the King himself attended.

Thus, this year, a royal delegate would be appointed.

Even so, with the Second Prince’s presence alone, the ceremony would be held on a grand scale.

The Magic Academy, responsible for organizing the event, had been making extensive preparations.

That, however, led to a problem for me.

After the ceremony, a lavish banquet, the Gratitude Ball, would be held.

A gathering where young noble men and women formally debut into high society.

Their families and guardians are also invited.

Naturally, it includes social dances.

The First Dance—

A moment when one dances with their betrothed, stepping into noble society together.

A deeply significant ritual.

Most students at the Magic Academy enter with an engagement arranged beforehand.

It is meant to ensure they walk into the future with a lifelong partner, marking their first step into the social world.

But my engagement was broken.

The Viscount’s daughter, my former fiancée, had long ceased any contact with me.

My family had even sent official papers confirming the dissolution of the engagement.

The document bore the seal of approval from the Marquis, the primary “guardian” overseeing noble engagements.

It was final.

Which meant—

I would attend the ceremony alone.

And, of course, I had no partner for the First Dance.

Rumors of my former fiancée had reached me.

In noble society, gathering information is a necessary skill.

Even as the third son of a Frontier Knight, I had learned to stay informed.

And so, the rumors surrounding her were nothing short of scandalous.

I remembered well the conversation I once had with the Grand Duchess in the academy corridors.

From what she had said, my former fiancée’s actions had been used as a test case—a litmus test for the sons of the high nobility.

For five years, their words, deeds, and influence within noble society had been carefully observed.

If I had made a move concerning my former fiancée, it would have interfered with that observation process.

That was why my engagement had been swiftly annulled.

Had I been a son of a higher-ranking noble house, a new partner for the ball would have been quietly arranged.

But I was nothing more than a Frontier Knight’s third son.

A noble in name only.

And I had already declared my intent to return home, where I had no future prospects in court society.

Finding a noblewoman who would match my station was impossible.

In short, I was an anomaly.

A peculiarity among peculiarities.

Thus, I merely watched the commotion around me with detachment.

There was nothing I could do.

No reason to contact my former fiancée.

I simply continued my daily routine as usual, focusing on what I could do before returning home.

Some of my classmates noticed that my engagement had been annulled.

But they did not understand why.

All they knew was that I had neglected my fiancée for years, and thus, it was only natural that she left me.

And that was fine.

Decisions had been made behind closed doors, beyond the knowledge of ordinary noble youths.

From their perspective, my inaction made me worthy of reproach.

It was only natural that I would find myself in this predicament.

The message from those in power was clear—

“Endure in silence.”

And so, I accepted my circumstances without complaint.

However, among the higher-ranking nobles, some possessed keen insight.

There were those who could sense the silent will of their elders.

True nobles, whose instincts and wit had been sharpened by surviving the treacherous politics of the royal court.

Those who made it their business to gather information, piece together fragments of truth, and anticipate events before they unfolded.

One such person approached me.

“Do you own proper formal attire?”

“I have something.”

“I assume it’s just the standard Academy-issued uniform?”

“What else would it be?”

“That won’t do. Not for the ceremony.”

“I don’t have the luxury to afford anything else.”

He sighed, as if expecting my response.

“Figures. Listen, meet me tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s hardly an answer.”

“Consider it a favor. Some people are… interested in fostering a connection with you.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Are you saying this is some kind of attempt to recruit me?”

“More or less.”

“Hah. What a blunt way of putting it.”

“I figured you’d appreciate honesty. Besides, there are times when appearances matter.”

His tone shifted slightly, more serious.

“You wouldn’t walk into a battlefield unarmed, would you?”

“I see. You’re providing the equipment, and I’m expected to fight the battle myself.”

“Exactly. Consider this an investment. There are people in this capital who play the long game.”

“Hmph. Very well. I’ll accept.”

He was the son of the Minister of War, a Marquis’s heir.

A twin, in fact.

His brother served under the Second Prince.

Come to think of it, I had seen him before—

Among my former fiancée’s inner circle, standing beside the Prince.

One of those who had been swayed by her manipulations.

But this one was different.

Despite the rumors of him being frivolous and carefree,

Despite whispers that he was a flirt and a fool,

He had chosen the hardest path.

He had enrolled in the elite military academy, preparing to become a field commander.

He was not securing a cushy court position through his father’s influence.

He was climbing the ladder with his own hands.

His lighthearted nature masked a sharp, calculating mind.

A man who, in truth, had already set his sights on power.

And for that, I found myself mildly impressed.

But of course—

I kept that thought to myself.

◆ That Which I Gained Through Study

In this world, upon reaching the age of sixteen, one undergoes the Coming-of-Age Ceremony.

At that point, whether one continues their studies at the Magic Academy, returns home to serve their family and nation, or embarks upon their own chosen path—it is a decision left to the individual.

I pondered my own course.

If I remained at the Academy for another two years, I could ascend to even greater heights, increasing the possibility of securing a position in the royal army.

The instructors, despite viewing my pursuits in the Alchemy Tower as a mere hobby, recognized my consistent diligence in military strategy. It seemed they were even considering recommending me for a position as a staff officer.

However, in the end, I was but the third son of a frontier knightly house.

A fool incapable of managing even his own fiancée.

From the moment the Grand Duke’s daughter instructed me to cease my involvement, I had completely severed ties with my betrothed. Yet, by doing so, I had marked myself as unfit for nobility.

A man incapable of properly managing a single woman would never be entrusted with a position of importance—such was the unwavering truth of noble society.

Even though my estrangement had been decreed by the royal court itself, the vast majority of noble families, who had no seat at the Morning Council, viewed both my former fiancée and myself as equally foolish.

And to make matters worse, I was now seen as nothing more than a dilettante.

Despite being a member of the Knightly Division, I neglected socializing with my peers in favor of sequestering myself within the Alchemy Tower—the very heart of the Alchemy Division.

To the military faction of noble society, my actions seemed to say: What could such a man possibly understand of warfare?

Thus, no matter how exemplary my academic performance in military studies, no noble scion of the military aristocracy would acknowledge me.

I was utterly isolated.

But that was of no consequence.

Companions need not be drawn solely from the Knightly Division.

I had built connections within the Alchemy Tower, among the common folk, and, most importantly, among my instructors—who, recognizing my potential, offered guidance whenever I sought it.

Even if I were ignored by my noble peers, there were countless ways to gather information.

However, considering my tarnished reputation within the Knightly Division, the notion of remaining in the capital to secure benefits for the frontier was utterly unfeasible.

Even if I tried, it would amount to nothing.

I was, after all, merely the third son of a house that barely qualified as nobility in the first place.

Worse still, my academic excellence might even work against me.
― The Futility of Seeking Office in the Capital ―

Thus, remaining in the royal capital to pursue a government position would bring me nothing but harm.

My skills, my knowledge of military strategy—these would be buried in obscurity if I remained at the capital.

Yet, if I returned to the frontier, they would become invaluable.

I would become invaluable.

No—I would make myself invaluable.

Thus, after my Coming-of-Age Ceremony, I formally announced my intent to return to the frontier.

To my surprise, my instructors spoke one after another, urging me to reconsider.

“It is true that, given your household’s rank, the capital presents many obstacles. However, your intellect would serve the royal army greatly. The revised military training guidelines you submitted as an assignment—both the Minister of Military Affairs and high-ranking logistics officers reviewed them and nodded in approval. Your entry into the Military Academy would be well within reason. Will you not reconsider?”

“That is an honor beyond words, yet… I am but the third son of a knightly house. The Military Academy is a gathering place for the brightest stars of noble society. No matter that my internal magic capacity is equivalent to that of a count; I remain nothing more than the son of a knightly house. Our family lacks the means to grant me a title of my own. In that regard, I stand as no different from the common people. The Military Academy would never accept one such as me.”

“But the military prides itself on meritocracy, does it not?”

*”Indeed—and for that very reason, I am unfit for such a path. Though my magic capacity may rival that of a count, my manifested abilities are far too specialized. In combat, I have only attained proficiency on par with common soldiers, and my offensive magic is rudimentary at best. Large-scale annihilation spells are an unattainable dream—such was made abundantly clear by the instructors of the Magic Division.

No matter how much further I refine my craft, I lack the raw power to serve as a Shield of the Kingdom.

Graduates of the Military Academy are invariably enlisted into the ranks of the Magic Knights. Two years would never be enough for me to reach such a level.

Instead, I choose to return to the frontier—where I will put my hard-earned knowledge and techniques to use against the threats of monsters and magical beasts, that I may stand as a shield against the kingdom’s enemies.”*

“…I see. So you have already chosen your path.”

“I have. My father and mother instilled within me the pride of our frontier house. My elder brothers, both brilliant and brave, surely bear great burdens in protecting our homeland. If I can lighten even a fraction of that burden—if I can be of use to the family that has cherished and raised me—then nothing could bring me greater happiness.”

“…Your resolve is unwavering. To think that such men exist in the frontier… A true noble’s pride dwells within you. I understand. I will say no more. May light guide your chosen path.”

“I am forever in your debt. You who held aloft a guiding light for those who walked in darkness—may your future shine ever bright. May light grace your path as well.”
― The Road I Chose After Graduation ―

Thus, I chose my own path after graduating from the Magic Academy.

To seek office in the resplendent capital would be an exercise in futility.

Even if I were to gain my father’s permission and change my patron house to that of a military family, I would be of no use.

The only future that awaited me in the capital was that of a disposable bureaucrat, shuffled into menial duties until I was used up and cast aside.

If so, then the wisest course was to return to where I truly belonged.

For my family.

For my homeland.

For my kingdom.

This was not self-deprecation, nor did I view myself as lesser.

It was simply the reality of my station.

And so, I stepped forward—toward the place I was meant to stand.

◆ Wealth and Connections

As time flowed onward, I devoted myself to four years of relentless study and refinement, from the age of twelve to sixteen.

My research advanced, and I meticulously refined the structure of my firearm until it reached a level I deemed suitable for practical use. The newly devised mechanism—fashioned in accordance with the lingering memories of my past life—had now taken the form of a rifle, equipped with a magazine.

— Yet, the process demanded a considerable sum of money.

It was, in truth, the days spent at the Alchemy Tower that became my salvation.

A mere son of a frontier knightly house held no such wealth. In truth, there were times when I struggled to afford the materials necessary for my research. It was difficult to seek aid from my peers in the Knightly Division, so instead, I turned to a companion from the Alchemy Division and inquired whether there was any work to be done in exchange for coin.

The answer was a firm “No.”

It seemed that students of the Magic Academy were forbidden from engaging in labor for monetary compensation. Any spare time was to be dedicated solely to study and refinement.

Then, how was one meant to afford the necessary expenses of research?

Upon reflection, it became clear—nearly all students at the Academy hailed from noble houses of at least Earl rank or higher.

For the wealthier among them, a single letter home would summon the required funds in mere days. No, even that was unnecessary—should they so desire, their very signature could be presented, and the bill would be sent to their household without question.

Foolish of me not to realize this sooner…

There was nothing to be done about it. As I quietly wallowed in resignation, one of my alchemist peers offered an interesting proposal.

“Hey, you’re from the frontier, aren’t you?”

“Indeed. I hail from a frontier knightly house.”

“Then, you’re familiar with magic tools, aren’t you?”

“Naturally. They serve as a valuable industry for our household. I even know a few artisans personally—some were childhood friends I used to play pranks with.”

“I see… There’s something I’ve heard about. Is it true there’s a box that can preserve things in a chilled state?”

“Ah, you mean the Thermal Preservation Chest? Yes, I am well aware. Currently, only small, box-like models exist, but they can be used to store drinks and vegetables at a cold temperature—or, alternatively, to keep things warm.”

“That’s the one! In my research, I’ve been working with various reagents, but they degrade far too quickly at room temperature. If I could store them at a lower temperature, I could conduct my experiments far more efficiently. The price is no object—just get me one.”

“Hmm… I see. Very well, but it will take about two months. Will that suffice?”

“As long as you deliver it swiftly, I have no complaints.”

Thus, I unexpectedly found a means to profit from the magic tools produced in my homeland—a staple of my house’s trade.

By forgoing merchants and avoiding mass sales to the general public, we maintained an appearance of nobility, exchanging goods solely between noble houses. This was no mere commerce, but rather an arrangement between families. As such, it remained free from scrutiny.

Without delay, I penned a letter home, addressing it to my mother, who oversaw the management of our house’s affairs.

Among my childhood acquaintances, there was one who had been granted the divine Craftsman’s Gift. He had entered the profession of magic tool craftsmanship and was already recognized as a skilled artisan.

Through my mother, I arranged for him to prepare a Thermal Preservation Chest. I had it purchased rather than simply acquired. And to secure more than just the device itself, I had it commissioned at a higher price—a premium I was willing to pay in order to obtain the magic inscriptions used within the device.

It was a costly investment, but in the long run, it would be far more advantageous.

Two months later, my acquaintance’s long-awaited item arrived, and in exchange for the agreed sum—now with additional profit—I handed it over.

“This is… incredible. No, truly incredible. I need one for my own home. Can you arrange that?”

“It will take some time, but I shall see it done.”

“I’m counting on you.”

Within the shipment, I found what I had truly sought—the schematics detailing the magical inscriptions required to construct the chest.

In truth, this had been my primary objective all along.

I possessed the ability to inscribe magical scripts. Furthermore, the technology I had devised for my firearms could be applied to improve upon the Thermal Preservation Chest, allowing me to develop an enhanced version.

That was the key—rather than inventing something entirely new, I would refine and improve upon what already existed.

Because the original device had been created by artisans within my domain, any modifications I made would not violate patent laws.

However, should the magic tool makers in the royal capital attempt to replicate my version, it would be deemed an unlawful forgery. The Royal Law was strict in this regard—any infringement upon the livelihood of frontier artisans would have disastrous consequences, potentially destabilizing the entire kingdom’s economy.

The benevolence of His Majesty the King did not lie in hoarding wealth solely within the capital, but in ensuring that all his subjects—be they of the capital or the frontier—could prosper equally.

Thus, intellectual property rights had been established to preserve this balance.

It was, in a way, a testament to His Majesty’s compassion for his people.

And so, I merely took advantage of what had already been granted.
The First Refrigeration Chamber

Thus, I completed my Cold Storage Unit, incorporating a variety of new innovations.

Since it was merely an improved model, the original patent still belonged to the magic tool workshop run by my childhood friend.

Even if the royal capital’s craftsmen attempted to replicate it, they would be unable to sell it. That was the law.

Once my preparations were complete, I sent word to my acquaintance. As though he had been waiting for the moment, I received an immediate response from his noble house—a request to deliver it at once to the upper Marquisate residence in the royal capital.

It was a rather large device, so I arranged for a carriage to transport it and personally installed it within their estate’s kitchen.

“M-Master! This… This is marvelous! Absolutely marvelous!!”

The head chef of the household was moved to the point of near tears, embracing my acquaintance and twirling him about in sheer delight.

What a sight… The head of the kitchen, treating his young lord like a child, spinning him around like that…

“Wait! WAIT!! Calm yourself, man! He’s watching! Compose yourself!”

“Well, if it brings you such joy, I am pleased as well.”

After freeing himself from the ecstatic chef’s grasp, my acquaintance turned toward me, his gaze filled with curiosity.

For an alchemist, his skepticism was entirely understandable. And so, I answered him sincerely.

“Given the sheer size and the extensive number of magical inscriptions within, the required magic must be enormous. I see that it operates independently, meaning it relies on magic stones—but how long do you expect this to run? A day? Perhaps half?”

“No less than a full year. That is the minimum duration I designed it for.”

“WHAT!? How is that possible!?”

Thus, my acquaintance’s household paid me a staggering sum for the patent rights.

Truly, gold was a wonderful thing.

With this, my research could continue without hindrance.

I naturally repaid the initial funding to my mother—plus a modest amount of interest.

In the same letter, I detailed how I had come upon such a large sum.

A few days later, a reply arrived.

It was a long, long letter filled with a mixture of gratitude, scolding, and deep bewilderment.

I could only smile wryly as I read it.

◆ Reaching for the Light

The magic stones I used in my experiments were nothing more than discarded scraps—the lowest-grade refuse from the weakest of monsters.

Dull. Lifeless. Utterly worthless as gems.

Even as a power source for magic tools, they were deemed useless, containing barely enough magic to fuel a simple spell.

And yet—

They held immense potential.

These stones, though weak, were abundant.

Their supply was never-ending, as the monsters that produced them spawned endlessly.

And, as their numbers grew, their discarded cores became a liability—
Attracting more monsters, turning the very land into a beacon of disaster.

The frontier was drowning in them.

The mere thought of finding a way to use them could mean stability and safety for my homeland.

Thus, I pressed forward with my experiments.

Through countless trials and errors, I discovered something important:

Crushing the stones into powder created a uniform material, with consistent magical properties.

Unlike raw stones, which varied in size and power,
powdered magic stone could be measured and standardized.

It was a breakthrough.

But there was a problem—

The powdered stones lost magic over time.

At best, they lasted two months before becoming useless.

A difficult problem, but one I set aside for later.
The Idea of a Gun

My thoughts kept returning to the concept of firearms.

In my past life, gunpowder-based weapons functioned on a simple principle:

Solid matter rapidly transformed into gas through an explosive reaction,
which then propelled a projectile through a narrow tube.

The closest weapons in this world were crossbows.

Rather than gunpowder, they relied on the tension of a bowstring to launch arrows.

If I wanted to replicate the mechanics of a gun,
the crossbow’s frame would serve as the foundation.
Procuring the Materials

The Knight’s Division had crossbows—

But they were ceremonial, unfit for real combat,
and far too valuable to dismantle for experimentation.

So I consulted one of my instructors.

I needed an unassembled crossbow,
preferably cheap and disposable.

The instructor gave me a bemused look—then laughed.

It was an unusual request, but he directed me to a weapons dealer in the capital—
a supplier for the royal army’s crossbows.

On my next free day, I made my way to the shop.

The shopkeeper regarded me with suspicion,
but when he learned I was from the Magic Academy, he relented.

For a reasonable price, I acquired ten crossbow frames—

Unassembled.
Without strings or bows.
Just the stocks and trigger mechanisms.

Perfect.
The First Prototype

I returned to the Alchemy Tower, my strange cargo drawing curious glances from my fellow students.

Ignoring them, I locked myself away and began the first build.

The barrel was carved from wood—
rudimentary, but enough to test the concept.

Instead of gunpowder, I would use wind-based magic inscriptions
to generate pressure and propel a projectile.

The trigger mechanism remained unchanged,
but I modified the rear section—
installing a coil spring and a strike plate
designed to ignite a charge of powdered magic stone.

For ammunition, I used cut-down crossbow bolts
to fit snugly inside the barrel.

By engraving wind-based magic formulas onto parchment,
I created a primitive bullet casing,
where a small pouch of magic stone powder acted as the propellant.

It was a crude design, but I needed to see if it would even function.
The First Test—Failure and Progress

At dawn, I took my first prototype to the training grounds.

The archery range would serve as the test site.

I raised the weapon, aimed at a distant target,
and pulled the trigger.

BOOM.

The weapon exploded in my hands.

The entire rear section shattered.

The bolt left the barrel—

But only traveled halfway to the target.

A failure, but not a complete disaster.

The problem was clear:

The pressure built up too quickly, causing the rear to rupture.
The projectile was too heavy for the amount of force generated.
The barrel was too loose, allowing air to escape inefficiently.

This was valuable data.

I had learned something.

Now, I just needed to refine the design.
Prototype II—A Major Improvement

For the second iteration, I made significant changes:

The barrel was reinforced with steel.
The chamber was made thicker, reducing the risk of explosion.
The barrel tapered toward the front, increasing pressure efficiency.
The ammunition was resized to fit the barrel more snugly.

The new design took weeks to perfect.

I poured over every detail,
ensuring that each modification would enhance performance.

I was not a gunsmith.

But I was determined.

I attended every military strategy lecture,
absorbed every recorded battle,
trained in combat arts,
and strengthened my body alongside the academy’s knights.

I had a purpose.

I had a goal.

This was not merely an experiment—

This was my duty.

To return to the frontier as a warrior.

To lessen the burden on my father and brothers.

To protect the land that had given me a home.

This was the path I had chosen.

And I would see it through.

◆ A Light to Protect My Oath

The Royal Magic Academy was well-equipped for both scholars and warriors.

While I diligently studied military theory in the knight’s course, I spent just as much time at the Alchemical Tower.

My magic, as it turned out, was more closely aligned with alchemy than traditional spellcasting.

This was the conclusion reached by my instructors—
If I were to hone my talents, I needed practical experience.

I agreed.

To understand my limits, to test what was possible, to find what could be achieved—

All of it would refine my control over magic and advance my studies.

Thus, I dedicated countless hours within the Alchemical Tower.

I started with simple experiments.

Attempting to imbue a sword with magic, I sought to create an artificial spell—one that could be activated by anyone.

A promising idea.

But it had a fatal flaw.

Even the simplest activation required the magic reserves of a Viscount’s lineage.

This was useless to the soldiers of the frontier.
The Source of Power—Magic Stones

Magic.

The mysterious force that dictated one’s fate in this world.

In my past life’s understanding, magic could be compared to energy—

An invisible force condensed into a solid state.

Humans could not naturally store energy within objects.

And yet, magic tools existed.

Despite their lack of magic, commoners could still use them.

Why?

What made this possible?

The answer lay in magic stones.

The remains of defeated monsters were not wasted.

In the frontier, where resources were scarce, nothing was left to rot.

Even the flesh of monsters found its way onto dinner tables.

Yet the true prize was found within their bodies—

Hardened cores, embedded deep in their flesh.

Stones that stored latent magic.

In the capital, scholars barely understood their significance.

But in the borderlands, where hunters had spent generations dissecting monsters, the truth was well known.

These stones contained stored magic.

And when placed within a magic tool, they became a substitute for personal mana.

This was how commoners could use magic tools—

By drawing power from these stones, rather than their own bodies.
A Wasted Resource

Magic stones came in various forms.

Some were large, perfectly clear, and held vast reserves of pure magic.

Others were small, cloudy, and contained only a fraction of their former power.

The clear stones were incredibly rare, requiring entire battalions to slay the monsters that produced them.

These were sold to jewelers in the capital, fetching exorbitant prices.

Yet the profits never reached the knights of the frontier who risked their lives to obtain them.

What remained in our hands?

The useless remnants.

The cloudy, fragmented stones—discarded as worthless debris.

Yet these “useless” stones were the foundation of all magic tools.

Unlike their pure counterparts, these clouded stones released their magic easily.

For commoners, this was a blessing—

For alchemy, it was a revelation.

Yet, despite their potential, they held little value in trade.

The cost of transportation alone exceeded their worth.

Most ended up as burdens to be removed from the frontier.

And for good reason.

Magic stones, when left in large quantities, naturally attracted monsters.

To prevent this, we shipped them to the capital for disposal.

The kingdom’s nobility viewed this as charity—a way to assist the magic-deprived commoners by providing cheap magic fuel.

But in reality—

We needed to get rid of them before they drew more monsters to our lands.
The Forbidden Crystal

When a magic stone was completely drained, it became a transparent crystal—

A “Magic Crystal.”

Beautiful, but worthless.

Some were used for cheap jewelry.

Most were simply discarded.

The church strictly forbade their widespread use.

After all, they were born from monsters.

As a result, magic crystals were dumped in massive piles outside the city, forming what appeared to be glittering mountains of glass.

Some cities used them for road construction, embedding them into pavement to reflect the glow of street lamps.

A few tourist cities even capitalized on their beauty, turning their streets into glowing paths that attracted visitors from across the kingdom.

But that was an exception.

For the most part, both magic stones and magic crystals remained wasted potential.
A New Idea—A Substitute for Gunpowder?

What if I could use them?

This world lacked gunpowder.

But magic stones stored energy—

Could they be harnessed as an explosive force?

I began a new line of experimentation at the Alchemical Tower.

First, I tried imprinting a fire spell onto a discarded magic stone.

I designed it so that a small shock would trigger the spell.

The result?

A tiny flame, burning weakly until the stored magic ran out.

Not good enough.

Next, I engraved an explosion spell onto the stone.

It produced a loud noise—

But not enough force to be of any real use.

Useless.

I tried water magic—but the resulting spray was pitiful.

Lightning magic?

A harmless static shock.

Then I tried wind magic.

This showed promise.

By rapidly releasing the magic within a stone in the form of compressed air, I could generate a strong gust of wind.

It wasn’t much—

But it was a start.

With enough refinement, I could potentially create a propulsion system—

Something that could serve as a foundation for new weaponry.

I had not yet created gunpowder, but I had found a path forward.

For the first time—

I saw a light in the darkness.

◆ The Source of My Struggles

I threw myself into my studies with renewed determination, discussing my progress with the academy’s instructors and refining my focus.

If there was anything within my power to master, it was the control of my magic and the art of warfare.

I studied logistics, learned the intricacies of military equipment, and familiarized myself with combat formations.

I absorbed tactics that were primitive compared to my past life’s memories—
Yet, in this world, they were practical and effective.

I analyzed military structures, dissected the distribution of arms, and examined how soldiers relied on their own skills to contribute to victory.

In doing so, I began to see a path forward—

A purpose.

A reason for my existence.

This was my answer.

What can the third son of a frontier knight achieve?

It was this question that I now sought to answer.

This world was plagued by monstrosities—beasts twisted by magic, their very existence a threat to humanity.

Some were mindless creatures, driven only by instinct.

Others—if the rumors were to be believed—were something more.

They spoke.

They commanded lesser creatures.

They organized.

The scholars of the capital called such beings “demonkind.”

But their very existence remained unconfirmed.

The distinction between monster, magical beast, and demon was blurred at best.

What was certain was this—

Their threat was real.

Those who lacked magic could do little to resist them.

The only defense lay in the hands of those gifted with magic.

This was the law of nature in this world.

Even within the frontier, where the reach of nobility was weak, those without magic had little choice but to live under their protection.

Or else perish.

The very notion of demonkind was one of fear and speculation.

The deep forests and wastelands that formed the borders of human civilization were treacherous enough.

The idea that exiled humans, having taken refuge in such places, could have evolved into something else…

It was absurd.

Yet nobles in the capital theorized otherwise.

If abandoned humans could adapt—

If they could survive in the wilderness and learn to wield magic—

Would they not one day return as something more than human?

To me, this was nothing but idle speculation.

A scholar’s delusion, born of ignorance.

I lived in the borderlands.

I had seen firsthand the true horrors of the wilderness.

No man could survive long enough to become anything but prey.

Those lands belonged to monsters alone.

Reality was far harsher than theory.

This was my world.

And my duty.

Our house, the house of a frontier knight, existed precisely because of the threats beyond the borders.

The Marquis who ruled over these lands was tasked with defending the kingdom’s edges.

Beneath him, the Counts who oversaw the outlying territories formed the first line of defense.

And at the very bottom—we stood.

The knights of the frontier, sworn to protect the kingdom’s edge with our own blood and steel.

It was our duty to be the first to face the onslaught.

Our burden to delay the enemy’s advance until the true nobility arrived with their overwhelming magic.

We were the damn holding back the flood.

And we paid for it in blood.

My father.

My brothers.

They accepted this burden without hesitation.

This was our role.

To be the first to bleed.

The kingdom had no choice but to rely on us.

There were never enough mages to defend the kingdom’s vast lands.

Even the royal court struggled to maintain a sufficient number of battle-ready magic knights.

It was a numbers game—

And we were the ones who filled the gaps.

For this reason, the frontier needed warriors.

And warriors needed weapons.

This was where I found my purpose.

Unlike my father or brothers, I lacked the raw martial prowess expected of a knight.

But my magic, though unconventional, held potential.

Through my studies, I discovered that I could manipulate metal—

Shape it.

Mold it.

Imbue it with magic.

The instructors at the academy took great interest in this.

Unlike nobility, who relied on personal magic, I could craft magic into objects—

Magic-infused tools.

The common people already relied on magical implements to compensate for their lack of innate ability.

If artisans could create simple tools, then surely—

I could create weapons.

Weapons that could allow the common soldier to fight monsters—

Even without magic.

This was the answer I sought.

I searched my memories, hoping to find something useful from my past life.

Swords? Shields?

No.

They were meaningless against creatures far beyond human strength.

But…

There was something else.

A weapon that did not rely on a warrior’s strength.

A weapon that did not require the wielder to be gifted with magic.

Firearms.

Guns.

If such a thing could be created—

If it were possible to craft a weapon that allowed the weak to fight the strong—

It could change everything.

But there was one problem.

The key to firearms—gunpowder—did not exist in this world.

Even if I understood theory, I lacked the means to reproduce it.

Without gunpowder, the entire concept was worthless.

Moreover, this world relied on magic.

Science had never developed.

Why build machines when magic did everything?

This world had never needed science.

Thus, it had never progressed.

I could not help but feel frustration at the truth of it.

If this world had just a fraction of the knowledge from my past life…

How much could I have achieved?

How much could I have changed?

Instead, I found myself grappling with the limits of this world.

This was my struggle.

This was my curse.

Even with the knowledge of another world, I was powerless to change what could not be changed.

But still…

Still, I searched.

For another way.

For another path forward.

For a way to carve my own existence into this world.

For the right to exist.