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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: The Hidden Dragon Squad
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In the east of Bestrika on the Southern Continent lay the Aslan Kingdom, the sole human realm standing against the monsters of the Great Tree Sea.
To the hordes of grotesque beasts and demonic creatures rampaging through the Great Tree Sea, the huddled humans of the Aslan Kingdom were nothing less than a perfectly prepared feast laid out on a platter.
Yet despite that, the monsters of the Great Tree Sea dared not lay a hand on the Aslan Kingdom. The reason was simple.
The Magic Tower, a repository of wisdom and sorcery, and the Lichtenauer Martial Clan, a gathering of superhumans who had mastered martial arts to the extreme, stood as unyielding guardians.
Among them, the Lichtenauer Martial Clan lived up to its fame as a family that revered the martial way, boasting numerous elite strike teams.
Born in fragile human bodies, these warriors who could stand against the monstrous powerhouses of the Great Tree Sea were living weapons, each and every one.
Such strike teams were the core of the Martial Clan, so it was only natural that those blessed with talent and genius would claim leadership positions within them.
The many candidates in line to inherit the future of the Lichtenauer Martial Clan were constantly proving their worth, leading teams befitting their station.
This included the so-called "Thunderbolt Wild Dog" of the branch families.
The heirs of the Palcion, Kalia, and Clonen families—considered the pinnacle among the vassal houses—each commanded their own full-fledged battalions.
And among the countless shining stars of the Martial Clan, Alex, who stood head and shoulders above the rest, led not just a team but an entire battalion.
Flip, flip!
In the office of the Tiger Cloud Battalion, Alex flipped through the documents before him, chin resting on his hand.
Having reviewed the final page, he closed the file and set it down on the desk with a thud.
-Hidden Dragon Squad Member Confirmation Plan.
Indeed.
Alex was reviewing the roster to decide who would join the newly formed unit under Ian.
"The roster seems awfully short."
"There aren't that many wild dogs in the family who are reckless enough to be classified as such... My apologies."
"Ah, no. That's understandable. Hmm..."
Alex scratched his chin at the response from the man who had taken over as adjutant in Yohan's absence.
"How about mixing in a few normal ones? As it stands, it won't be easy to plant our people."
Finding a white stone in a pile of sand was tricky because it blended in, but picking a white one out of a heap of black stones was a breeze.
If a normal member was thrown in among a pack of uncontrollable wild dogs, it would immediately stand out as a spy.
But the adjutant, having anticipated Alex's concern, responded without hesitation.
"We've prepared for that. The Shadow Unit has secretly recruited one among the wild dogs. With such a small group, it'll be easier to get close to the Second Young Lord's inner circle. No need to worry."
Alex nodded in satisfaction at the adjutant's reply.
"Hmm, good. Not bad at all."
Seeing that this adjutant handled things better than Yohan, Alex erased all memory of the fool from his mind.
There were far too many matters demanding his attention to waste time remembering a failure who couldn't even look after himself.
"Moreover, if by some slim chance the Second Young Lord has the talent to hide his claws and win people over... it's better to minimize the numbers who might be swayed."
Wild dogs.
The open slang for the Martial Clan's headaches—uncontrollable misfits whose foul tempers and eccentricities had gotten them rejected from every strike team.
In short, they were spoiled brats with attitudes from hell.
The reason these flawed individuals could brazenly eat at the table in a clan with strict discipline was straightforward.
They possessed skills to back up their rotten personalities and attitudes.
Had they walked the straight path, they might have chased right after the clan's shining successor stars.
If, by any chance, the Second Young Lord had the vessel to win over such wild dogs...
It was better if his followers remained few in number.
"Good. You handle things cleanly."
Upon closer inspection, the man had his own solid reasoning and perspective in managing affairs.
Subordinates didn't need to think, but his right-hand man couldn't just be a mindless puppet obeying orders.
The ability to handle things proactively in his absence was essential.
Alex gave the adjutant a passing grade and gazed out the window, eyes gleaming.
"I'm looking forward to it. Is my little brother just a fool who'll get torn apart by the wild dogs... or a talent who can tame them?"
Either way, it didn't matter much.
The reason Ian irked Alex was the uncertainty of his capabilities, which Alex couldn't fully grasp.
Exceptional or a delusion, it made no difference.
Once he judged Ian's true level, he could deal with him accordingly.
After all, he himself would be the brightest star illuminating the next generation of the Martial Clan.
Alex harbored not a shred of doubt about that future.
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"Huff, huff..."
The breaths escaping Ian's lips turned to white mist, scattering into the air.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickled sideways, and dripped to the floor.
Ever since declaring before Paon that he would lead the new strike team, Ian had ceased training with the Twin-Headed Blood Snakes and focused solely on basic physical conditioning.
Running laps around the training grounds, endlessly lifting and lowering heavy weights to stimulate the muscles of his frail, worthless body.
"Hnnngh...!!"
Tremble, tremble!
His arms shook as if they might snap at any moment, begging to drop the iron weight, but Ian gritted his teeth and pushed through to the end.
The final moment.
Overcoming that without giving in was the foundation of muscle growth.
Clang!
With a heavy thud as the weight hit the rack, Ian collapsed flat on the ground.
"Haaaah..."
He wiped the sweat streaming down his face and steadied his breathing.
Heart, technique, body.
True martial prowess couldn't be forged from a lopsided power.
Only when balanced across all three could one's full strength be unleashed.
Having undone two chains of the Solar Absolute Meridian, his Blood Nether Iron Lock Technique had reached the 2-star realm.
But what good was mastery of mana or weapons without the stamina to swing a sword? It would crumble like a sandcastle on the beach.
'Alex would never give me a normal strike team.'
Alex's schemes kept reminding him of Siegfried.
As if such a man would hand him a settled, comfortable unit.
Might as well say the sun rises in the west.
He'd surely gathered every misfit reject no one else could control.
That way, it would be easy to brand him incompetent and humiliate him.
Misfits like that couldn't tolerate anyone they deemed inferior lording over them.
But Alex couldn't imagine.
How many nomadic tribes Lucas had wrangled and merged on the Northern Continent before founding the Alexandor Empire.
How many times he'd dealt with people who spoke with fists over words.
No one on this continent could match his expertise in that "language."
'Alex, I have a rough idea of your plan... but it won't go as easily as you think.'
Grip!
Steeled in resolve, Ian seized the dumbbell beside him.
One month remained until official assignment to the new strike team.
No time to rest if he wanted to maximize his physical potential in that span.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Step, step!
One month.
An incredibly short time, fleeting like an arrow.
Yet for one with will and steady pursuit of a goal, it was ample for change to take root.
Far too little to sculpt a perfected body like in his Lucas days, but enough to infuse his frail frame with decent strength, stamina, and vitality.
After a month of seclusion in his quarters, grinding away at training, a decree from the Patriarch arrived for Ian.
Confirming the order, Ian headed to the building assigned for the team he would lead.
The decree named the team and specified the location.
-Hidden Dragon.
A term for a dragon submerged in water, not yet ascended to the heavens—talents who hadn't yet seized their chance to shine.
"Hidden Dragon Squad, huh? Fancy name."
Ian scoffed.
Call it a dragon if you like; in truth, they were sunk failures who never ascended.
Why wouldn't a talent comparable to a divine beast have shone already?
Conversely, if they had such ability yet hadn't...
They must have flaws vast enough to eclipse it entirely.
'I wonder which type my team will be.'
As he walked, imagining the members he'd soon meet, he arrived at the Hidden Dragon Squad's building per the decree.
Rookies' Nest
"..."
Veins bulged on Ian's forehead as he stared at the building's facade and sign.
"...Hmph. Playing it like this, are you?"
A haunted shack, barely better than a stable compared to other units' quarters.
The Hidden Dragon Squad's "building" was little more than a derelict eyesore on the verge of demolition.
Even for a direct lineage team, this treatment?
Swallowing his rising fury, Ian slowly reached for the door handle.
No need to get mad. It was just temporary humiliation.
Once he revealed his true colors, they'd be the ones scrambling to upgrade his quarters.
Creeeeak!
Composed, Ian pushed the handle, and the door swung open with a chilling groan, revealing the interior.
Whoosh!
In that instant, a gust laden with training ground dust blasted straight into his face.
Clang! Sching! Clang-clang-clang!
The sharp clash of metal echoed fiercely.
A petite girl and a hulking brute swinging a massive halberd were the culprits stirring up the dust storm.
The daggers and throwing knives in the girl's hands targeted the man's vitals, her form still girlish.
The brute's intimidating halberd came crashing down with enough force to cleave her slender body in two.
"..."
Ian was speechless at the mad scene greeting his arrival.
Sching!
The man batted away the girl's throwing knife, and the training ground fell into a brief standoff.
The eyes of the two combatants and the three spectators eagerly watching their brutal bout turned to Ian at the entrance.
"Who the hell are you? Oh. You one of the poor bastards assigned to this worm-infested dump? Wait your turn. Once I sort out this brat, I'll set your pecking order straight too."
The man, halberd slung over his shoulder as he caught his breath, glared at the girl and growled.
"...Hilarious. A boar with nothing but size—who're you gonna sort out?"
Crack!
The man's face twisted into a demonic snarl at the girl's sneer.
"I told you not to call me a boar!!"
Roar! Boom!
The halberd cleaved the air, kicking up another dust whirlwind.
A chunk of building debris caught on its blade.
This ramshackle structure had grown even shabbier from that single strike.
As his hair whipped in the wind, a single thought crossed Ian's mind.
"...What a mess."
No other words fit the scene.