The Progress
2163 Words
Two Years Later
Two years had passed since Garrick Arden returned from the war.
In those two years, the land surrounding the mountain had changed so completely that even the oldest villagers sometimes found themselves staring at their own homes as though they were looking at a place they had never seen before.
The narrow dirt paths had become proper roads. Wooden houses had multiplied. Farms stretched farther into the valleys, and new irrigation channels carried water toward fields that had once been abandoned. A marketplace stood near the main road, where merchants, craftsmen, farmers, hunters, and travelers now gathered every day.
There were workshops.
Barracks.
A medical hall.
Storage houses.
Training grounds.
A small administrative building.
And, most importantly, people.
Lots of them.
The place that had once been an insignificant mountain settlement was now officially known as the Arden Territory.
And despite being one of the newest territories in the Geum Kingdom, it had already become one of the strongest.
The outside world had a simple explanation for that.
Garrick Arden.
The former hunter had become a war hero, a knight, a field commander, and eventually a baron. His name had spread throughout the kingdom after his achievements during the war against the Mule Kingdom.
People knew that Garrick had once killed a Sword Expert with a single strike.
They knew he had commanded thousands of soldiers.
They knew that he had helped end a war that was expected to last for years.
They knew that he had returned with a group of elite knights.
So when Arden Territory began producing unusually strong soldiers, most people naturally assumed that Garrick was responsible.
They were not entirely wrong.
Garrick was powerful.
But the truth was far more ridiculous than the rumors.
The strength of Arden Territory was nowhere near what the outside world imagined.
And the person responsible for most of it was not Garrick.
It was his son.
Kael Arden.
***
Roland Mendez had once been a Peak-Tier Knight.
That was how he had entered Arden Territory two years ago.
He had expected to spend his remaining years serving Baron Garrick Arden.
He had expected a quiet life.
He had expected border patrols, bandits, monsters, and perhaps an occasional dispute with another noble.
He had never expected to become a Swordmaster.
Roland stood alone in the training yard.
His dark armor rested against a nearby wall.
His sword was in his hand.
The morning wind moved through his hair.
He closed his eyes.
Then he breathed.
The Elemental Breathing Method began circulating through his body.
Mana entered through his breathing.
It moved through his muscles and bones before being refined and compressed within his core.
The process was smooth.
Natural.
Efficient.
Roland opened his eyes.
He moved.
One step.
One draw.
One s***h.
A stone target twenty meters away split cleanly in half.
The cut was so precise that the two pieces remained standing for several seconds before slowly falling apart.
Roland lowered his sword.
He stared at the result.
Two years.
Only two years.
He had reached Swordmaster.
A realm that had once seemed impossibly distant was now his reality.
Roland remembered the first time Kael had explained the Elemental Breathing Method.
"It is not perfect," Kael had said.
Roland had almost laughed.
Not perfect?
The technique was better than anything he had ever seen.
It allowed ordinary warriors to absorb mana, refine it, strengthen their bodies, and develop their combat power without requiring rare bloodlines or special physiques.
It was adaptable.
Stable.
Efficient.
And easy enough to teach to large numbers of people.
By the standards of Kael's previous lives, however, the technique truly was mediocre.
Kael had seen cultivation methods capable of shaking worlds.
He had seen techniques that manipulated laws, domains, space, souls, and even the fundamental principles of existence.
The Elemental Breathing Method was nothing compared with those.
But Kael had not created it for himself.
He had created it for this world.
And in this world, the method was already considered top tier.
That was what made it so valuable.
It did not need to be the greatest technique ever created.
It only needed to be far better than what ordinary people had access to.
Roland smiled faintly.
He had spent decades believing that Swordmaster was the limit of his talent.
Kael had shown him that he had simply been walking on the wrong road.
***
The ten High-Tier Knights who had arrived with Garrick had also changed.
All ten had followed the same training method.
All ten had reached Sword Expert.
Eleven elite warriors now stood within Arden Territory.
One Swordmaster.
Ten Sword Experts.
That alone would have been enough to make a territory frightening.
But they were only the beginning.
The original two hundred soldiers Garrick had brought back from the war had also undergone Kael's training.
Two years earlier, they had been ordinary soldiers.
Some had barely qualified as Apprentice Knights.
Some had no formal cultivation at all.
Now every one of those two hundred men had become a knight.
The weakest had reached High-Tier Knight.
The strongest had reached Sword User.
The transformation was so absurd that military officials from other territories would probably have refused to believe the reports if they had seen them.
In most places, becoming a knight was an achievement.
A High-Tier Knight was already respected.
A Sword User was an elite warrior.
In Arden Territory, however, such progress had become normal.
The soldiers trained every morning.
They practiced breathing.
They strengthened their bodies.
They learned basic combat principles.
They sparred.
They studied their weaknesses.
They learned to control their energy.
Kael did not simply hand them the Elemental Breathing Method and tell them to cultivate.
He taught them how to use it.
He taught them how to avoid wasting energy.
He taught them how to recognize mistakes.
He taught them that strength was not created by absorbing as much energy as possible.
Strength came from control.
The System had helped him analyze every soldier's progress.
Some needed more physical training.
Some needed better breathing control.
Some required meditation.
Others needed combat experience.
Kael adjusted the training accordingly.
The result was an army unlike anything Arden Territory had possessed before.
***
As the territory expanded, Garrick recruited another one thousand soldiers.
They were needed.
The population had grown.
More roads needed patrols.
More villages required protection.
Merchants needed escorts.
The border needed guards.
Bandits had begun avoiding the territory entirely because the rumors of Arden soldiers had spread.
Of the new thousand soldiers, two hundred and fifty had already reached Low-Tier Knight.
The remaining seven hundred and fifty had all become Apprentice Knights.
Kael found the results satisfying.
Not because he wanted an army.
But because he wanted the territory to be safe.
A powerful territory attracted attention.
Attention attracted danger.
The people living there needed to be capable of protecting themselves.
Even the public guards had been trained.
They were not yet Apprentice Knights, but every one of them was only a single step away.
That meant that the average guard in Arden Territory was already stronger than the ordinary civilian soldiers found elsewhere.
The people noticed.
They felt safer.
And safety brought more people.
Refugees arrived from poorer regions.
Peasants left lands where taxes were excessive.
Craftsmen came because there was work.
Merchants came because the roads were secure.
Healers came because the population was increasing.
Blacksmiths came because the soldiers needed weapons.
Farmers came because Arden Territory had fertile land.
The territory became a place where people could begin again.
Most newcomers believed Garrick was the reason.
Kael did not correct them.
He preferred it that way.
***
Garrick stood on the balcony of the territorial residence one evening.
The sun was disappearing beyond the mountains.
He could see the lights of the marketplace below.
Children were running through the streets.
Farmers were returning home.
Soldiers were changing shifts.
Merchants were closing their stalls.
The territory was alive.
Garrick rested both hands on the railing.
Two years ago, he had returned from the war with a title and a responsibility he had never expected.
Now he was a baron.
His cultivation had reached the late stage of the Golden Core realm.
His sword had become sharper.
His body had become stronger.
His understanding of the Dragon Slaying Sword Technique had deepened.
He could now fight warriors that would have been completely beyond his reach before the war.
Yet none of that mattered as much to him as what he saw below.
Peace.
His people were safe.
That was enough.
Footsteps approached.
Kael stopped beside him.
"You are thinking again."
Garrick laughed.
"I am allowed to think."
"I never said you weren't."
"You always sound like you are judging me."
"I am."
Garrick looked at his son.
Kael was eighteen now.
The boy he remembered had become difficult to understand.
His face was still young.
His expression was still calm.
But his presence was completely different.
Garrick could no longer measure his son's strength.
Not even remotely.
"How strong are you now?" Garrick asked.
Kael looked toward the mountains.
"Void Realm."
Garrick became silent.
He knew the local ranking system.
Mythic Rank.
That was the closest equivalent.
A realm that existed mostly in legends.
A realm associated with beings who could live for thousands of years.
A realm so distant that most people never expected to meet someone who had reached it.
And Kael had reached it at eighteen.
Garrick slowly exhaled.
"You really are my son."
Kael smiled.
"Was that ever in doubt?"
Garrick laughed.
"Sometimes."
***
Liora had become even more famous.
She was now the youngest Ninth Circle mage on the continent.
That single achievement was enough to cause an uproar among magical circles.
The Royal Magic Academy sent invitations.
Noble families sent offers.
Magical organizations requested meetings.
Scholars wanted to study her.
Liora ignored most of them.
She was more interested in training.
Her lightning and metal magic had become terrifying.
The combination had originally been an experiment.
Now it had become her signature.
She could form metal blades and cover them with compressed lightning.
She could condense lightning into narrow spears.
She could create defensive metal barriers reinforced with electrical energy.
Her greatest advantage remained efficiency.
Her control was so precise that she could sometimes accomplish with one percent of her mana what another mage might require ten percent to achieve.
She did not waste energy.
She compressed it.
She refined it.
She controlled it.
Kael often reminded her that Ninth Circle did not mean she had reached the end.
Liora knew.
That was why she continued training.
"Master."
Kael looked at her.
"Yes?"
"When will I reach Tenth Circle?"
"When you understand what separates Ninth from Tenth."
She frowned.
"That sounds like a very annoying answer."
"It is."
"Can you give me a better one?"
"No."
Liora sighed.
"I hate when you're mysterious."
Kael smiled.
"Good."
***
Mark's growth had been quieter.
Very few people knew how dangerous he had become.
His Shadow Energy made it difficult to sense him.
His cultivation had reached the initial stage of the Golden Core realm.
His Shadow Step had become far more advanced.
He could disappear into one shadow and emerge from another.
His Phantom Sword Technique had become unpredictable.
His flying daggers could change direction through carefully controlled energy.
Mark was not the strongest member of the sect.
He did not need to be.
Kael had never intended for every disciple to compete for the same position.
Mark's strength came from specialization.
He was an assassin.
A scout.
An infiltrator.
A silent blade.
The Shadow Breathing Technique had originally belonged to the greatest assassin Kael had known during his third life.
That assassin had once been mortal.
He had created the technique himself.
He had cultivated it until he reached the Immortal Realm.
Only after Kael became the Sovereign of the Myriad Realms did the assassin's reputation reach him.
Kael had eventually recruited him.
The assassin served willingly.
Among the powerful beings beneath Kael's authority, serving the Sovereign was considered a great honor.
Kael had never feared him.
He had respected him.
Trusted him.
And considered him one of his most valuable subordinates.
Mark was now walking the beginning of that same road.
But Kael had warned him.
"Do not become him."
Mark had asked why.
"Because he was himself," Kael answered. "You need to become yourself."
Mark understood.
The technique was a tool.
His identity was his own.
***
Arden Territory continued to grow.
Refugees were now arriving almost every week.
Some came from war-torn regions.
Some were simply poor farmers searching for land.
Some had heard that the new territory offered fair treatment.
Others came because the guards were strong.
No one was turned away simply for being poor.
The territory had become known as a place where a person could start again.
That reputation attracted more people.
And the more people arrived, the stronger the territory's economy became.
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