Barcas Loses His Confidence

Novalon Empire, northern frontier.

Inside the local lord's castle hall, the fire in the hearth crackled, its dancing light barely warding off the bitter chill seeping through the stone walls.

A middle-aged man with curly brown hair and mysterious black eyes sat by the fireplace, reading newspapers that his subordinates had brought back from the distant Royal Capital and Benalu City. His brow furrowed occasionally, his gaze deep and thoughtful.

With a sudden howl of wind, the freezing northern air rushed inside.

The baron glanced cautiously at the middle-aged man reading by the fire and quickly ordered his attendants to close the castle doors.

"Lord Barcas," the baron walked up to the man and bowed his head humbly. "Regarding the recruitment of soldiers, we have encountered some trouble..."

"Oh?" Barcas looked up slightly, fixing his gaze on the master of the castle.

Despite being the lord here, the baron appeared more like a servant. His tone was nervous as he hurriedly explained, "The number of soldiers we have recruited has reached the absolute limit for a barony of this size. Furthermore... Count Karl to the south has grown uneasy. He has sent messengers multiple times to question me..."

"Do not worry about Count Karl, or any other noble lord for that matter," Barcas said dismissively. "I will handle any lingering concerns for you. You only need to focus on expanding your territory."

"But..." The baron quickly voiced his difficulties. Even if he ignored the dissatisfaction of other nobles, the massive expansion of his military was already putting immense pressure on his administration.

After the baron finished explaining his plight, Barcas looked out the window at the heavy snowfall, his eyes filled with disappointment.

"Does the lord truly need to consult me on such trivial matters?" Barcas's voice carried a hint of suppressed impatience. "These are your private troops. Surely you do not think they belong to me?"

The baron lowered his head, grumbling inwardly. Who would believe that?

He only held this position because of the man's help. It was Barcas who had allowed him, a bastard son with no right of inheritance, to emerge victorious from the War of Succession.

The arrangement was simple: Barcas invested in him, and he worked for Barcas to repay the favor.

The baron was indeed willing to work for this mysterious, generous, and powerful benefactor. During this time, he had obtained almost everything he had ever dreamed of.

But gradually... he began to realize that what Lord Barcas was plotting...

It seemed a bit too big.

Barcas wasn't training him to be a mere border lord. Instead, he wanted to use him to build a powerful, independent border warlord faction. Then, this army was supposed to possess the strength to invade and seize the territories of other nobles. And after that...

The baron didn't even dare to think any further.

"Fine, I understand," Barcas waved his hand. "You may leave for now. I will find you later."

The baron nodded and hurriedly left the hall.

Barcas watched the baron's retreating back and sighed helplessly.

Finding truly capable talent was indeed no easy task, but this bastard son of a northern noble was the best candidate he could find at the moment.

Fortunately, Barcas still trusted his own eye for talent. Recently, he had selected two people with excellent potential in Benalu City...

A female demon hunter whose husband suffered from a terminal illness, and a dwarven scholar who was being marginalized by academic cliques everywhere.

These unfortunate, cynical talents were all buried and discriminated against under the rule of the decaying Empire. But Barcas never cared about one's background when it came to employment.

He had always believed that he possessed a natural, extraordinary leadership. As long as he showed a little kindness and reached out a helping hand when the other party was in darkness and despair...

Then it would be easy to build a friendship with these talents. In the future, they would willingly work for him, loyally assisting him in realizing the demon revival dream that had been dormant for a thousand years.

It was coming soon. That day was not far off...

Barcas drained the strong liquor on the table to suppress the restless emotions in his heart.

Just then, a ghostly figure radiating a shadowy aura seeped through the crack in the door and slowly materialized before him.

"Lord Barcas!" A demon bowed respectfully and reported in a low voice. "In the Royal Capital, the Church of Holy Light is launching a massive crackdown on our ally, the Echoes of Truth. According to our informant... Samantha is also in the Royal Capital."

"Samantha?" Barcas frowned. "What is she doing there?"

"We don't know..." The demon shook his head helplessly. "The Church claims they want to assassinate the Pope, but I don't think that's necessary. The old man is about to die anyway..."

"It is strange..." Barcas's expression grew more serious. Why would their 'ally' go to such lengths to infiltrate the Royal Capital? What were they really trying to do?

"Investigate! Keep investigating!" Barcas ordered immediately. "We must find out exactly what the Echoes of Truth are planning. This must be a matter of great importance. If necessary, activate our spies within the Royal Capital!"

After all, that old woman Samantha was always cunning and cautious. It was impossible for her to act on a mere impulse...

"Yes!" the demon nodded instantly.

"By the way..." Barcas asked one more thing before the other left.

"How are those two friends I discovered in Benalu City doing lately?"

Upon hearing this, the demon suddenly hesitated. "Lord Barcas, those two..."

"What about them?" Barcas's brow furrowed.

"Just two days ago, Professor Duncan returned our funding in full... He said that our side wasn't very secure and that he recently found a more reliable investor..."

"What?" Barcas's expression changed slightly.

"And..." The demon was almost afraid to continue, but he braced himself. "The demon hunter Danielle also declined our help. She said her husband's condition has improved slightly recently..."

"How is that possible?" Barcas's expression shifted drastically. "A body corrupted by black magic will only fall into an irreversible decline, and the person will gradually turn into a madman. If her husband could be saved, then the mages would have risen long ago!"

"I'm sorry, Lord Barcas..." The demon lowered his head nervously. "That is indeed what she said. They won't even let our people get near her husband..."

Barcas lowered his head in somber thought.

What was going on?

Barcas, who had always considered himself an expert at reading people, fell into a deep state of self-doubt for the first time.

This isn't how the script was supposed to go.

Shouldn't they be... grateful that he reached out to them in their darkest hour, and then be moved by his extraordinary leadership to wholeheartedly join the demon faction? Just like the other subordinates he had recruited in the past...

Yet one by one... they had ignored his goodwill.

"Hmph, how ungrateful." Barcas shot a quick glance at his demon subordinate, suddenly feeling as though he had lost face.

The demon lowered his head even further, not daring to even breathe loudly.

...

Far away on the other side, in Solan Province in the heart of the Empire.

Ansu, who was traveling on Radish, suddenly sneezed from the bright sun.

"What's wrong?" Celia, who was also riding a horse nearby, looked at Ansu as he rubbed his nose and teased with a smile.

"A sneeze that big... someone must be talking about you, right?"

"Who knows..." Ansu thought silently. At this moment, there were probably quite a few people talking about him...

Maybe it was the old witch who realized she had been tricked.

Or maybe it was Vera back home, or Freya in the Royal Capital...

After some idle speculation, Ansu looked at the two columns of the horse team ahead.

Upon arriving at Oak Town, he and Celia had only taken a brief rest before setting off with the long-awaited expedition party.

His current location was a sparse woodland outside Oak Town. Moving forward, they would cross a vast expanse of primeval forest, but if they followed the forest eastward, they would reach the endless Eastern Wasteland.

Regardless of the route, it was a weary and long journey—primarily for Radish.

Ansu couldn't help but look down at Radish beneath him.

Fortunately, during Radish's days at Lawrence Manor, Celia hadn't used her extreme modifications to turn it into some indescribable monster...

But its life hadn't been easy either.

Because whenever the witch beside them glanced over, Radish would tremble from head to hoof. It seemed to be utterly terrified of her...