Chapter 105: Chapter 80: Seven Years of Army Building, Devoted Cultivation, Increased Strength
Time is the cheapest, and also the most expensive, thing in the Cosmos.
The war sparked by the Great Rebellion continued.
Void Storms blocked the beacon pathways, and the Empire was shattered.
Seven years had passed since Reinhardt executed two Mages and foiled the Great Demon Thousand-Change Monarch’s plot to corrupt the world.
...
In the year 1454 of the Radiant Calendar, on the world of Seventeenth, the governor’s rebellion, which had lasted eleven years, was finally quelled thanks to Reinhardt’s intervention.
Desolate Wasteland Ruins.
Caster Monastery.
After a strict selection process by the Combat Priests, thirty youths from this world with the greatest Knight Talent were holding wooden swords, engaged in their weekly sparring practice.
A burly young man with a full head of white hair stood watching, his expression serious and his brow furrowed. A Longsword hung from his left hip, and in his right hand, he held a thick, heavy, open Holy Scripture.
Any sign of slacking or retreat was met with his harsh reprimand.
"You are the chosen of the Divine Emperor. In the future, when you step onto the battlefield, the enemies you face will not be mortals holding wooden swords.
Demons, Wizards, Scaya Dragonfolk, fallen and traitorous Knights...
Their power is far beyond your imagination."
Few of the youths dared to talk back to the Combat Priest, but there were always one or two rebellious troublemakers who refused to submit to the instructor’s discipline.
A tall, slender youth, no older than fifteen and not yet fully developed, curled his lip in disdain and muttered a complaint.
"Even if enemies like that really exist, they wouldn’t come to this barren world. Besides, you’ve never even seen one yourself..."
The white-haired Combat Priest, dressed in a suit of plain, white-painted Steel Armor, heard the youth’s complaint and closed the Angel Holy Scripture he had written himself.
"Stop the training! Aaron, step forward!"
Instead of being intimidated at being called out, the boy named Aaron seemed to take pride in it. He made a face at his best friend, puffed out his chest proudly, and stepped out of the formation.
His best friend was a slightly shorter, chubbier boy who didn’t have the guts to cause trouble right under the nose of the notoriously strict Lord Raphael.
After five years of pacification wars, campaigning alongside Reinhardt across the Grillers World, Raphael was no longer the scrawny priest he had been seven years ago. Though he didn’t have the exaggerated Physique of an Imperial Knight, his height of nearly 1.9 meters was comparable to Reinhardt’s own build as a youth.
Iron-willed and loyal, as the Combat Priest of the Caster Battle Group, he had personally written the sanctity and severity of discipline into the battle group’s code.
These youths were the third batch of followers to be trained by the battle group, and they were also apprentices of the Caster Monastery.
Raphael gave the youth who now stood before him—so ignorant of true power and the ways of the world—a serious look. "You have thirty seconds to attack me," he said coldly. "Begin."
Aaron’s selection for the Caster Battle Group’s training camp was a testament to his undeniable physical talent. At the age of thirteen, he had killed a renegade Defense Army soldier with his own hands to protect his family.
This was the source of his pride, and the reason for his insubordination.
The youth froze for a moment, then rolled up his sleeves and said excitedly, "Lord Raphael, you’re the one who said it."
How could he possibly pass up such an opportunity to show off his strength? With a bizarre yell, he snatched up his wooden sword and swung it straight at Raphael’s head!
However, Raphael simply raised his right hand. Aaron froze in place. A moment later, he collapsed to his knees in agony, his body trembling like a leaf in the wind as cold sweat poured from him.
To the onlookers, the immense pain lasted but an instant, yet to Aaron, it felt as if hours had passed.
He was so terrified and unsettled that his trembling lips couldn’t form a single word.
Raphael strode before him and looked down, admonishing, "If you want to become an Imperial Knight of the Caster Battle Group, my Battle Brother, you will face torments a hundred, even a thousand times more intense than this.
You say your dream is to surpass Lord Reinhardt, to become an even greater Knight. But I can tell you that my own power and will are nothing before him.
If you give up now, I will arrange for you to be sent back to your hometown."
The evil knowledge that the Thousand-Change Monarch and the Void Divine Artifact had injected into his memory seven years ago tormented his mind daily, urging him to seek out more knowledge, only to drown in it.
Raphael could only temporarily suppress the pain by writing the Angel Holy Scripture and immersing himself in the great work of singing the Divine Emperor’s praises.
But this knowledge also granted him unparalleled Extraordinary Power—Mind Connection and foresight—talents that were exceedingly rare even among the Wizards of ancient times.
The Extraordinary Power he had used to punish Aaron, Pain Suppression, was merely the tip of the iceberg of the knowledge he possessed.
It was, after all, only a minor chastisement. He had controlled the intensity of the Pain Suppression carefully so as not to harm or destroy the boy’s mind.
Even so, the Mighty Power of a Wizard was not something a Mortal’s will could withstand.
Aaron remained kneeling, his hands braced against the ground to keep from collapsing. Beads of cold sweat dripped to the floor. He didn’t know what had just happened, but in that one instant, everything he had ever feared had appeared before his eyes like a hallucination, all at once and horrifyingly real.
’He wanted to argue. What happened to the thirty seconds? Why didn’t that count?’
But as he struggled to his feet and met Raphael’s eternally cold gaze and slightly furrowed brow, the lawless youth finally felt fear.
’If that had been an enemy on the battlefield, I’d be dead by now.’
But he couldn’t believe it. ’Lord Raphael, a Combat Priest with such terrifying Mighty Power, said his own strength is nothing compared to Lord Reinhardt?’
...
After seven years of renovations and expansion, the Caster Monastery was a far cry from what it had once been.
It now covered a vast area and possessed all the functions of an Imperial Academy for training Knights and Priests.
Training Hall.
The massive Flame Longsword insignia of the Caster Battle Group hung above a towering statue of Reinhardt.
Raphael had personally designed the Battle Group’s insignia, taking inspiration from Reinhardt’s Radiant Holy Artifact, the sword named Divine Emperor’s Fury.
Ever since learning from the Thousand-Change Monarch that a rebel beacon would one day make landfall on this world, Raphael had begun preparations to establish a Battle Group, inviting Reinhardt to serve as its Battle Group Commander, who would be responsible for training the young followers and interpreting Knight Power.
In seven years, the Battle Group had already produced four New Recruit Knights. Led personally by Raphael, they were constantly on the move, mopping up the remnants of the rebel forces.
After thwarting the Demon’s plot, Reinhardt spent three years wiping out most of the rebels, single-handedly crushing six of the Governor’s private armies, each ten thousand strong.
He spent the remainder of his time at the Caster Monastery in deep cultivation, honing his application and control of his Power.
By now, he could perfectly control which parts of his body the Morphic Armor covered and for how long, minimizing its drain as much as possible. His own strength had been settling for eleven long years as he digested the experience gained from the battles on the Grillers World.
「On this day.」
The intensity of his Power reached the level of a Six-star Military Rank.
