The silence continued in the training grounds as everyone gazed at the kneeling figure of the captain in the arena.
The royal guards, who'd been trained by Anandra from time to time, knew he was strong. But they'd never expected him to defeat the former captain of the Royal Knights in this manner.
"C-Commander Anandra!"
"As expected of the former commander of the Blackstone Soldiers!"
The first to break the deafening silence were the Blackstone Soldiers who came to watch the battle. Soon after, several more others started cheering the outcome of the battle.
"It was like watching Sword Saint Alexander and Sword Saint Marozzo fighting against each other!"
"I'm glad I got to witness this battle!"
"Is it even possible for swords to do that?"
Amidst the cheers and murmurs, Captain Symon slowly stood up, grabbed his sword, and sheathed it. He shook his head thrice, slapped his cheeks, gathered himself, and smiled.
"This fight has been an invaluable experience," said Captain Symon as he bowed his head. "Thank you."
Anandra nodded. "Likewise."
The two were men of few words, but everyone who witnessed this spectacle could feel the respect they had for each other.
"Your Majesty," Captain Symon gazed at Lark, who stood right outside the arena. "Please announce the result of the battle."
"Of course," said Lark. He amplified his voice with mana. "I will now announce the winner of this battle."
Unlike before, the buzzes and murmurs in the training grounds didn't die the moment Lark spoke. Everyone was still enveloped by the thrill of the battle they'd just witnessed.
Lark continued, "I'm certain that these two warriors will grow even further in the future. But for now, the winner of this match…" Lark paused, and the chatter in the training ground finally died out.
Everyone already knew who the winner was, but they still wished to hear it directly from the king's mouth.
"Is Anandra!" said Lark.
The crowd erupted into louder cheers. The Blackstone Soldiers jumped in joy, while Austen and George started performing another weird dance.
Seeing that Captain Symon had accepted his defeat with dignity, even the royal guards joined in the cheers.
After Anandra left the arena, he went straight to Lark and said, "Did I pass your test, Master?"
Lark smiled. This disciple of his was starting to become cheeky.
"That much is a given," said Lark. "I'll teach you the Seven Gates." He crossed his arms, placed a hand on his chin, and paused. He added, "But I still need to look through the monster corpses stored in the castle's third tower. For now, recuperate. Normal practice swings of the sword aside, I forbid you from performing any strenuous training until our lesson five days from now."
"I understand," said Anandra.
Lark looked at the woman standing several meters away from them.
She was wearing a frown and held a basket in her hands.
"You should have seen how worried she was during the fight," said Lark as he gazed at Irene.
Too focused on his battle against the captain, Anandra had forgotten that she came to watch his fight despite her busy schedule. He couldn't understand why she seemed so insistent on watching him train every day, but for some reason, Anandra didn't hate it. On the contrary, seeing her felt calming. It was an odd but welcomed feeling.
"What are you standing around here for?" said Lark. "Go to her."
Anandra hesitated for several seconds, before eventually nodding his head. For some reason, he felt nervous as he walked toward her.
The moment they stood right in front of each other, Irene said, "Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?"
Unlike the other spectators who were ecstatic, she sounded worried.
Her knuckles had turned white as she gripped the handle of the basket.
"Why did you fight with the captain?" said Irene. "The two of you nearly destroyed the arena! You call that a spar? I've never seen a battle so dangerous in my life!"
To other people, this would probably sound like nagging. But strangely, Anandra found it heartwarming that someone was so concerned about his wellbeing.
Anandra had heard that the new secretary was a demon when it came to matters of the state. This was the same woman who made sure that the Assistant Vice Minister of Finance, who'd embezzled money from the government, met his due punishment.
But seeing her now reminded Anandra of a whimpering puppy. Her eyes were moist, as though she was close to crying.
"His Majesty cast a protection spell on the two of us beforehand," said Anandra. "It would never have escalated to anything too dangerous."
Irene lowered her head. She mumbled in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Do you know how worried I was?"
"Hey, old man! I knew you could do it!"
George, who couldn't read the mood, came running toward them and jumped on Anandra's back playfully for a second, before nudging him in the ribs. Austen came running right behind him.
"Hey, you moron!" said Austen to George. He looked at Anandra and the Secretary and immediately noticed the awkward atmosphere between the two.
"Lady Secretary," said George. "How long are you going to hold on to those pastries? You planned to give them to the old man during his training, right?"
Austen groaned and covered his face with his palm.
"Pastries?" Anandra's gaze moved toward the basket Irene was holding.
"They're for me?"
Irene's face flushed. Looking around, she realized that a lot of people heard George's statement.
Backed into a corner, Irene gathered her courage. She shoved the basket toward Anandra. She said, "T-They're just leftovers! Here, they're for you!"
The other people who heard this grinned. Even Anandra's lips started curling up.
Although he was considered good-looking by most women, his default glare made them wary of approaching him. The women from his village aside, this was the first gift he'd received from the opposite sex.
"Thank you," said Anandra.
*** After the spar between Anandra and Captain Symon in the training grounds, Lark went to the third tower of the castle.
As one of the oldest structures in the castle, the tower looked worn out and dilapidated. Still, it had the most enormous basement and was thus chosen as the storage site for the monster corpses.
"Your Majesty!"
"Your Majesty!"
The guards and the workers transferring the corpses to the tower's basement halted what they were doing and greeted Lark the moment he arrived.
"It's fine." Lark raised his hand and stopped the guards and the workers from kneeling on the ground. "Continue transferring the corpses."
"Yes!"
A few hundred corpses had already been transferred to the third tower's basement by this time. The basement was freezing, and looking at the source, Lark realized that the dwarves had left behind the artifacts they used to preserve the corpses.
Lark approached one of the artifacts and inspected it. It's well-made.
The artifact was a one-meter cube held by three steel pillars. Using a middle-grade mana stone as its power source, it continuously emitted freezing air capable of perfectly preserving the monster corpses.
Over a dozen similar artifacts were scattered throughout the third tower's basement.
As expected of one of the richest nations in the continent. They had no qualms on leaving these artifacts behind for the humans to use.
Lark touched the artifact and carefully assessed the amount of mana left within its power source. If he wasn't mistaken, they should still have a week of leeway until they ran out of power.
"Seven days," Lark softly mumbled. He called over the guard in charge of overseeing the monster corpses.
"You called for me, Your Majesty?"
"How long will it take to transfer all of the corpses here?" said Lark.
"And will this basement be enough to contain all of them?"
"Following Your Majesty's instructions, we made sure to transport all of the corpses carefully," said the guard. "With the current number of workers, it'll probably take us until tomorrow to transfer them all."
Considering the size and number of corpses, a single day to transport all of them to the third tower was a reasonable timeframe.
Lark looked around. High-quality kalrane stones, which Lark had ordered to be prepared beforehand, illuminated the massive room. Hundreds of monster corpses had been carefully laid on the corner, near the walls.
"Then, I expect the transport process to be over by tomorrow evening," said Lark. "Do not dally. Recruit more workers if necessary. Although the dwarven artifacts are preserving these corpses right now, decay is inevitable with the passage of time."
The guard nervously swallowed dry spit and nodded his head respectfully. He felt the burden of completing this task perfectly.
"I'll… I'll make sure we finish transporting all of the corpses before tomorrow's dusk, Your Majesty!" said the guard.
*** After visiting the third tower of the castle, Lark went to the storeroom located near an abandoned oratory.
"Open it," said Lark.
The guards standing before the entrance to the storeroom crisply saluted, replied with a loud "Yes!" and opened the large wooden door. A familiar scent seeped out the moment the door opened. Unlike the basement where the corpses were stored, it didn't reek of rot and decay. Instead, the smell of iron and steel filled the air.
"I'm entering alone," said Lark. "Do not follow me."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Lark entered and went down a flight of steps, eventually arriving at a massive underground storage room that formerly served as one of the emergency exits for royalty. At the end of the room were three tunnels connected to different parts of the castle.
Lark had heard that during the Bloody Thorn Plains Incident more than a decade ago, General Carlos used these tunnels to ward off the rebels and secure the escape route of the royal family. These tunnels remained open, until Lark ascended the throne and ordered his men to block its entrances, before converting it into a massive storehouse.
Lark scanned the room.
Dozens of lit torches were latched on the walls and the pillars, providing ample illumination. Several hundred suits of armor made of iron stood right next to one of the blocked tunnels.
Lark had been creating these suits of armor whenever he had free time, even before the Ancient Fire Dragon Vulcan proposed to have a master– servant relationship. Over time, his hard work started paying off. Now, Lark had managed to accumulate nearly a thousand suits of armor.
It's a good thing that this place is near the castle's third tower, thought Lark.
With such proximity, it would be easy for the workers to transport the finished suits of armor to the basement of the tower once Lark decided to proceed with the ritual.
The dwarves managed to bring me a little over six thousand monster corpses. Now's not the time to conserve the mana in the Sword of Morpheus. I should start creating more living suits of armor.
The longer they waited, the higher the chance of the essence within a monster corpse dissipating.
"It's a pity that we don't have enough steel and iron," said Lark.
Even with the addition of the metal ores and ingots the dwarves brought with them, it was still not enough to create the Blackstone Legion Lark envisioned. He still needed more materials in order to turn that dream into reality.
For the rest of the day, Lark started using up the rest of the iron and steel ingots available in the storehouse. Unlike before, mana was no longer an issue with the help of the Sword of Morpheus.
Fourteen hundred suits of armor made of iron.
And fifty suits of armor made of steel.
The final result after consuming all of the resources currently available in the capital.
*** The next day, right after the workers were done transporting all of the monster corpses to the third castle, Lark went straight ahead with the Essence Animation Ritual—a technique sometimes called the Soul Morphosis Spell by the magicians of the Magic Empire.
As ordered, the workers left a large clearing at the center of the tower's basement. This was where Lark planned on conducting the ritual.
"Leave the suits of armor over there." Lark pointed at a nearby empty spot. "Do not enter unless I tell you to. And do not allow anyone to come in without my permission."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
After leaving behind over a dozen suits of armor in the room, the guards and workers left and closed the door.
"It's cold," Lark said to himself. Steam puffed out of his mouth when he spoke.
The artifacts that preserved the corpses were still running at full capacity. The chamber was freezing cold. The walls, the ground, and even the doors had started forming ice. The only reason the whole place hadn't become a freezing hell by now was probably due to the presence of numerous kalrane stones illuminating the underground chamber.
Lark willed his mana to coat his body, preventing the cold from touching him.
"Let's start."
Using sacks of gold dust and ormatane dust, Lark drew a massive magic formation on the ground, with three smaller magic circles surrounding it. Upon finishing the magic formation, Lark used gravity magic to lift a suit of armor and three monster corpses of the same species into the air. Carefully, he placed the suit of armor at the center of the magic formation, and the monster corpses at the magic circles at its periphery.
When Lark had performed this ritual before, he used twenty goblin corpses to create a single suit of living armor.
But today was different.
According to the dwarves, most of the corpses they'd gathered were from powerful monsters capable of ripping even an adult dwarven warrior to shreds.
Thus, Lark deemed that three corpses was more than enough to create a powerful living suit of armor.
Lark channeled mana into the magic formation. The runes and symbols within it glowed, and a sharp whizzing sound was heard as the magic formation started consuming the monster corpses, melting their bodies and turning them into particles of light.
Several seconds passed.
The armor at the center of the largest magic circle started quivering, producing clanking sounds that echoed in the underground chamber.
Moments after, a pair of yellow eyes peered at Lark through the iron helmet.
Lark could feel the solid link binding the suit of armor to the monsters' essences. The strength of this one was almost on par with the suits of armor created using the essence of the basilisk.
It seemed the dwarves really made sure to hunt only strong monsters during the dragon's trial.
"I am your master," Lark arrogantly declared to the living suit of armor he'd just created. "If you acknowledge, kneel and bow your head."
It was a simple test that verified the success of the ritual.
Based on his experience, the stronger the source of the monster essence, the higher the chance for the ritual to fail. Stronger monsters had stronger wills and egos, and the majority of them—even after their death— would never acknowledge a mere human as their master.
"If you acknowledge," repeated Lark, "kneel and bow your head."
The suit of armor groaned, fell on its knees with a loud thud, and lowered its head.
Lark smiled.
His first creation was a success.