The so-called volunteer laborers—no, the pioneers—threw themselves into the work with blazing passion.
"So this is how they built things here?" one of the dwarves exclaimed.
"It's definitely sturdier than our usual methods. Looks like it could withstand natural disasters without a problem," another replied.
"Hey, isn't this Raelnium—the same stuff Caron Leston handed over last time?" someone shouted, holding a glittering shard.
At the front lines, dwarves swung their hammers with relentless vigor. Some even used construction machinery they had hauled in on their ships, clearing away the ruins of shattered buildings.
Of course, nothing was wasted. The dwarves gathered the debris as if it was treasure, while the mages behind them ran nonstop analyses, scribbling notes and chanting spells.
"The level of these magical circuits is unbelievable," one mage muttered in awe.
"They're absurdly efficient. If we integrate this into our artifacts, we could boost efficiency by several times," another added.
"This is insane... This was truly an incredible civilization," someone whispered.
Exclamations of wonder rippled everywhere.
Human adventurers, eyes gleaming with greed, scoured the ruins for anything that could fetch a fortune. All around the city, countless temporary tents sprang up like mushrooms after rain.
Seeing these "laborers" working so eagerly of their own accord, Caron Leston wore a satisfied smile and nodded, then said, "Hmm. This will really put some momentum into the restoration."
At his side, the last survivor of the Arcane Civilization, Shiker, clicked his tongue but agreed. "Those dwarf folk have impressive skill."
"They're a race that prides itself on anything done by hand. That's why we brought them," Caron said with a grin. "All you need to do is set the priorities, Shiker."
"What sort of priorities?" Shiker asked.
"Which facilities or technologies we need restored first for the expedition," Caron replied.
"Ah, I've already given that some thought," Shiker said, unrolling a rough map prepared by the expedition scouts. The map was crude, drawn in haste, but it outlined the city's general shape. "Based on what we've checked, only about ten percent of the city's facilities can even be restored. Among those, the most critical for the expedition is... the Mana Conductor."
Shiker pointed to a structure shaped like a towering spire. Caron recognized it—he had seen it before, though he hadn't gotten an explanation then.
Shiker quickly continued, "The Mana Conductor does exactly what its name suggests—it channels mana in whatever direction we want. We'll need special relay devices, but producing those isn't too difficult. I confirmed that the schematics still exist in the underground of the old factory that made them."
"And what exactly do you plan to do by channeling mana?" Caron asked.
"Consider the Four Oceans—what you call the North Sea. Its currents are warped by dark mana. But if we restore the Mana Conductor, we can control the currents and suppress that dark mana. Imagine what that would mean," Shiker answered.
It was a fascinating concept.
Caron stroked his chin, nodding slightly as he said, "Go on."
"Isn't your goal to secure safe sea routes? This device would guarantee that. Not only that, we can add acceleration functions. We called such things 'Accelerated Routes.' Using ocean currents and mana flow, we could boost a ship's speed dramatically—assuming the hull could withstand it," Shiker explained.
"So you're saying... You could shorten the voyage time?" Caron asked.
"Exactly," Shiker answered.
The effect was staggering. Not only could they make the treacherous northern waters safer, but they could also drastically cut travel time. That sounded almost impossible. And if they shortened the voyage, safety would increase exponentially.
"We can even install these on the route to the Demon Realm later?" Caron pressed.
"As long as we can secure stable ground there, yes," Shiker confirmed.
"Wow," Caron remarked. This was music to his ears. It had to be their top priority.
He grabbed Shiker's hand, eyes blazing, then shouted in excitement, "You should've told me this sooner! What do you need?"
"Mana Stones and labor. That's enough. The Conductor's circuit design is all in my head," Shiker said.
"I'll assign people immediately," Caron replied.
His mind raced with plans. If they could establish accelerated routes, setting up a forward base here wouldn't just be possible—it'd be practical. And securing a supply route to the Demon Realm would become vastly easier.
The lifeline of every war was supply. With this technology, that problem could vanish entirely.
"I'm counting on you, Shiker," Caron said.
"It's not a difficult job. Don't worry," Shiker replied with a reassuring nod. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll get started."
"Hey! You over there!" Caron called out to an officer. "Assign workers to assist Shiker. Now!"
"Yes, sir!" the officer replied.
As Shiker strode away at a brisk pace, Leo crept up to Caron with a sly grin and asked, "Want me to guess what you're thinking right now?"
"Try me," Caron said.
"You're planning to swallow that technology for yourself and monopolize the future sea trade routes, aren't you?" Leo guessed.
"Ha! Look at you, sniffing out profit like a bloodhound. Of course I am. You know what they say—war fuels technological progress. We'd be fools not to grab what we can while the iron's hot. That's how we'll enjoy a comfortable retirement," Caron said with a laugh that dripped with greed.
As always, he was shamelessly money-minded.
Leo chuckled softly and nodded, thinking, At least he's thinking about the future.
Sometimes, watching Caron charge forward so recklessly filled Leo with a faint sense of dread—as if the man would crush the Demon Realm and then vanish without a trace.
But conversations like this reassured him. Caron did think about what came after. Someday, when this war ended, maybe this madman would finally pause and breathe. What the future would hold, Leo didn't know.
Stay alive, Caron, Leo thought quietly. He hoped Caron would live to see that distant day.
Caron always burned like a raging fire. Leo only prayed that fire wouldn't consume the man himself. He still couldn't understand the blind hatred Caron carried, but he prayed its end wouldn't be self-destruction.
"What's with that serious face all of a sudden?" Caron asked.
"...Nothing," Leo muttered.
"Lack of exercise, huh? Come on—let's hit the training yard. Nothing beats a good workout when you're feeling down. I'll even coach you personally. It's been too long since I put you through hell. Let's go!" Caron said, grabbing Leo by the arm.
Dragged helplessly by Caron's absurd strength, Leo let out a small sigh. He thought, I thought we were past the near-death days... They say a man changes after a brush with death, right? Please—please let that be true.
And yet, Leo's desperate wish to escape this madman's clutches burned brighter than ever.
Soon after, screams began to echo from the training grounds.
***
The restoration of Desertus progressed at an astonishing speed. It was so fast, in fact, that it would be remembered for ages in the annals of continental history.
It took only three months to restore the core facilities.
The moment the Mana Conductor was restored, the expedition began installing relay towers along the sea routes to Raelnia. As a result, safe and fast passage was secured. Thanks to that, countless supplies stockpiled in Raelnia poured into Desertus at an incredible pace.
With the flood of goods—and the flood of people seeking fortune and opportunity—Desertus shed its bleak, desolate face in no time. Three months later, it had become the expedition's foremost forward base. It was a holy ground for merchants, adventurers, and mercenaries alike.
"Did you hear? Demonic sea monsters have appeared along the eastern coast," someone said.
"This place is far more dangerous than Raelnia," another muttered.
"Which makes it perfect for real combat training," a third added.
The constant emergence of demonic sea monsters turned out to be a blessing for the expedition. They could accumulate real battle experience at a rapid pace. And the more time passed, the more monsters gathered—perhaps drawn by the growing presence of Desertus.
But this was no longer a land that could fall to mere monsters. The formidable defensive structures of the Arcane Civilization had been restored, and as a result, casualties dropped dramatically. Thanks to that, the expedition could train in a relatively safe environment.
By the time Desertus began to take on the shape of a true city, Caron sat in a stone building at the city's center, receiving reports.
"Production of Raelnium is underway," Commander Zerath reported, his voice as gruff as ever. "The dwarven artisans succeeded in restoring the production method. Mass production preparations are complete."
He continued, "The Raelnium we produce will be distributed to the vanguard, and forged into armor and weapons."
"The vanguard's composition is finalized, right, Sir Zerath?" Caron asked.
"Yes," Zerath replied. "The head of the house himself gave final approval. Since the vanguard's only objective is to secure a landing zone in the Demon Realm, we cannot afford to deploy large forces."
Landing in the Demon Realm was something that had once seemed so distant when Caron was reborn. But it was now right before his eyes. He would only truly feel it once his feet touched its soil, but the excitement was undeniable.
"Don't you think they're being a little too quiet?" Caron muttered.
The Demon Kings surely knew the expedition would arrive soon. Yet all they'd done was send a few monsters. There had been no significant movement. It was unsettling.
Caron wondered why they were so calm now, when they had once lashed out at the continent whenever a chance presented itself.
"The night before the storm is always calm, Lord Caron," Zerath said. "Whatever stance they take, we must still set foot in the Demon Realm."
"Sure, but it makes the back of my neck itch," Caron said with a shrug.
"Fortunately, nothing major has occurred on the continent," Zerath reported. "Gold prices are soaring as we approach war, but that is all."
The elite forces of every nation had been funneled into the expedition. Any country that dared dream of invasion now would be crushed in an instant. For the moment, the expedition's presence had brought peace to the continent.
But Caron knew that peace wouldn't last. Win or lose, the world would return to its old ways soon enough.
Still, we have to win, he thought.
They had gathered the greatest warriors of the continent. Defeat was unthinkable. A single loss would mean the entire continent falling into the hands of the Demon Kings.
"Ha, if it were up to me, I'd go to the Demon Realm myself and slay a few demons right now," Caron said, half-joking.
"There's no need for such reckless risks," Zerath said. "Our scouts are already installing relays and gathering intelligence. No need to worry."
The most trusted captains of Queen Kynda were personally securing the sea routes. Veterans of countless naval battles—joined by the famed navy of the Free City Union—worked together.
All Caron could do now was wait until the route was secured. When war began, he and his comrades would move as a strike force. He burned with the desire to act, but for now, patience was necessary.
"This is killing me," Caron muttered. "Not being able to cut loose whenever I want... It's making my body itch."
"That's an illness," Zerath said dryly. Then he changed the subject. "Have you attained the insight you sought for the next stage?"
Caron drank a mouthful of water before nodding, then answered, "I've got a sense of it."
9-Star was a realm beyond his previous life. It was a level that only Halo had reached in the present age.
To slay the Demon Kings, Caron had to reach it. But reaching 9-Star wasn't about waiting for the seas to merge naturally. He had to unite all the seas himself. Only then would he stand at the 9-Star level.
"Has the head of the house given you any advice?" Zerath asked.
"Oh, of course," Caron answered, smirking. "The usual cliché—'You must brush against death.'"
Halo had offered nothing beyond that.
"When you face death itself, you'll understand, Caron."
It was vague, typical of Halo. He'd always loved metaphors, the aristocratic bastard.
Just like a young master of a noble house, Caron thought as he nodded lightly and turned back to Zerath.
"Sir Zerath, do you think I'll reach 9-Star? They say only the chosen can do it," Caron asked.
"Of course," Zerath replied without hesitation.
"Wow. You're usually stingy with praise," Caron teased.
"I'm not stingy. I simply don't bother with unnecessary evaluations," Zerath said.
"Same thing," Caron said.
He clicked his tongue and stood before continuing, "Anyway... I'm bored. Care to cross swords? I've been working on a new technique, and I need a partner."
"...What about the former Imperial Guards? Like Sir Kerra?" Zerath asked.
"Sometimes you need a special treat," Caron replied.
"And I'm the treat?" Zerath asked.
"Yes. What's more special than beating up your own teacher?" Caron answered.
He had never cared for propriety.
***
Time flowed once again.
At last, the day arrived—the vanguard would depart for the Demon Realm.