Lumberling's thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.
"Wh… what happened here?" Uncle Drake asked, rushing over to where Lumberling stood, staggering slightly.
He had been resting not far away but was awakened by the sound of fighting. Even though his body felt heavy and his head dizzy, he'd rushed to his comrades, fearing they were under attack.
"It's not an enemy, Uncle Drake," Lumberling said, puzzled by his late arrival. The commotion from the fight with Decurion Rex should've been enough to rouse him earlier. He was about to ask about it when a wave of dizziness hit him too.
He swayed.
'Ah… so that's how it is.'
"Uncle Drake, are you dizzy too?"
"Yeah… maybe I slept badly," Drake muttered. "We'll talk about that later. What happened here? Where's Decurion Rex?"
"That body over there. It's him. I killed him."
"You… what? Why?"
Lumberling felt a headache coming on, unsure how to begin explaining. But then Drake's eyes fell on something on the ground.
"This… this is a black iron collar. Where did it come from?" Drake asked, voice tight with shock.
"Black iron collar? What's that? No—more importantly, Rex tried to attack me in my sleep."
"What?! Decurion Rex? Why would he—"
Drake paused, eyes narrowing as they went from the collar to the corpse.
"…He tried to put it on you, didn't he?" he asked solemnly.
"I think so. I was about to fall asleep when he sneaked up and tried to force that creepy collar onto my neck. I fought back and stabbed him. He tried to kill me… and I killed him instead."
"And… you felt dizzy too, right? It wasn't just you. That bastard must've drugged our water supply."
"Seems so."
Drake's expression darkened as he connected the dots. "He was a noble… had to be. Only a noble would try to enslave someone he fought beside. So this is why he joined the army."
"I still don't get it. What exactly is this collar? Why was he trying to force it on me?"
Drake sighed. "It's not something we should talk about here. First, let's take care of the body—don't want any beasts sniffing around."
They carried the corpse to a nearby river. Before dumping it, Lumberling stripped it for anything useful: ten gold coins, a decent-quality sword, a few daggers, and an ominous black scroll.
The currency conversion was straightforward: 100 bronze = 1 silver, 100 silver = 1 gold. Having ten gold coins meant Rex was likely at least a baron's son. When Lumberling offered to split the loot, Uncle Drake declined.
"I've been in the army for decades and barely spent anything. Keep it," he said.
Back at their hideout, Drake finally explained.
"The black iron collar is a rare artifact used to enslave Knight-rank individuals—particularly young talents like you. That bastard must've seen your potential and tried to claim you."
"Wait—what do you mean by my potential? And how can something like a collar enslave a knight? Aren't knights the strongest in the empire?"
"You're growing fast. If this keeps up, you'll be a true Knight one day." Drake gave him a knowing look.
'Let's hope he doesn't figure out my devouring ability,' Lumberling thought.
"Knights are strong, yes, but there are other powers in the world. Outside the empire lie vast, unexplored lands. This collar is forged from black iron—material from beyond our borders. It carries the darkness element… and the power to force obedience."
Lumberling felt a chill. "A power that can enslave even a knight… this world really is vast."
"But the collar has limits," Drake continued. "It can enslave Knight Pages, maybe Quasi-Knights, but it can't restrain a Knight Stage 1 or higher."
"I see… So how did Rex get one?"
"That's why I think he's a noble. These aren't items just anyone can get. I've seen nobles use them to enslave talented commoners. That's why I told you to steer clear of nobles."
"Is this… common in the empire? Wouldn't knights hate the nobility for it?"
"Some nobles are decent. Most aren't. And yes, it's common enough. Knights require immense resources to train. Many commoners accept becoming slaves just to walk the knight's path. Others… get forced into it."
Drake's expression grew grim.
"I once had dreams too. Trained like hell when I was your age. A baron took notice and tried to make me his soldier. I refused. He tried to collar me. A friend saved me… barely. I joined the army to escape."
"And what happens if a slave becomes a Knight Stage 1?"
"They don't let that happen. Nobles stop them at the Quasi-Knight stage—keep them from advancing, just in case. A few have broken free. When they do… noble houses fall."
Lumberling nodded slowly. "Thank you, Uncle Drake. I'll be careful."
He looked at the collar. "It won't activate if I touch it, right?"
"No. The original owner is dead. Just drop your blood on it to bind it to yourself."
Lumberling did so. "So… how does it work?"
"Three steps. First, the collar must be worn—willingly or not. Second, the victim's blood must be smeared on it. Third, they must either say, 'I want to be [owner's name]'s slave,' or you use a forbidden scroll to force the pact."
Lumberling's gaze drifted to the black scroll. "That scroll… it must be one of those."
"Most likely. The collar alone could be worth five platinum coins. The scroll… just as much."
Lumberling tried to activate his Devour skill on the collar—but nothing happened. Still, he felt something shift in his thoughts.
'This might be our ticket into enemy lines.'
They rested. That night, Lumberling shared a new plan with Uncle Drake: instead of sneaking past the Sengolio camp, they would infiltrate it—by enslaving a Knight Page and posing as enemy soldiers.
For days, they scouted. Sengolio Knight Pages were always surrounded by hundreds of troops—too risky. Eventually, they changed strategy: target scouts or hunting parties instead.
A week later, while training his spear, Lumberling heard rustling. He climbed a tree and spotted five Sengolio soldiers chasing a deer.
He waited until they killed it. Then—thwack—an arrow struck one soldier through the skull.
(You have devoured the Infantry Soldier's essence. 5 essence absorbed. Absorbing a portion of the Infantry Soldier's memories and experiences.)
Another arrow flew, but the soldier deflected it with his shield. Lumberling leapt from the tree, sprinted forward, and killed another before knocking out the remaining three.
He tied them up and brought Uncle Drake. Together, they planned the next steps.
When the prisoners woke, Uncle Drake greeted them with a bucket of water—and a beating.
"Who among you wants to survive?" he asked in their language, showing the collar.
One cursed at him and spat on the ground.
Drake sighed, dragged him off, and screams echoed through the forest.
The youngest soldier, trembling, nodded silently when asked again.
Lumberling pricked his finger, dropped his blood on the collar, then repeated the process for the soldier. The collar locked around his neck.
"Say it," Drake ordered in Sengolio.
"I… I want to be… Lumberling's… slave," the soldier stammered.
Dark smoke swirled around the collar and coiled into Lumberling. A prompt appeared.
(Slave: Fred — Ordinary soldier of the Sengolio Empire.)
Lumberling tried commanding him mentally. Nothing happened. He spoke aloud: "Stand up."
Fred didn't understand—but the collar glowed red, and pain shot through his body. Hearing Drake translate the command, Fred forced himself to obey.
"So that's how it works," Lumberling murmured.
Fred knew little, but they learned key facts: over 25,000 troops were stationed nearby. More reinforcements were expected. Until then, their commander had ordered a temporary halt.
Fred had been part of a hunting squad. There were others in the woods. This detail was especially useful.
After cleaning the site and looting the bodies, they sent Fred back to the enemy camp—to act as their spy and report weekly.
Risky? Absolutely. But necessary.
They were surrounded by enemies, and without inside information, their survival odds were vanishingly small.