Chapter 40
The Flowers Bloom
“It… couldn’t be helped back then.”
In a past life—his previous existence—
Jonas had spoken to Isaac from beyond the vault door.
“To avoid being dragged into the power struggles of various factions, Goethe had to become a self-sufficient city-state.”
Though a blade was lodged in his abdomen, Jonas’s voice still carried passion.
“The power of nobles ultimately comes from the land. Fertile land—and what grows from it.”
The foundation of noble power that Jonas spoke of.
Land that could become strength.
That land… now lay before Isaac.
A territory occupying a quarter of the domain, rich with fertile soil—
yet bordering the Black Forest, constantly embroiled in battles with Hell Wolves.
Contaminated by the blood of demonic beasts, nothing could grow there.
The Count of Goethe had summoned countless scholars to solve the problem, but none found a proper solution.
The one who finally discovered a method was, unexpectedly, someone else.
The Countess of Goethe—Adele.
Isaac’s mother.
A blue flower brought from the demon realm to treat her son’s unusual condition.
That flower, which fed on mana, had purified the land of Vinfelt.
***
“…This is insane.”
“Damn it… did I drink too much last night? Am I still hungover?”
The drowsy soldiers couldn’t tell whether they were dreaming or awake.
It had only been a few days since they spread the fertilizer.
Yet the sight before them, surrounding the camp, was nothing short of surreal.
Green grass glistening with dew under the faint light of dawn.
Sprouts had emerged everywhere.
“What are you doing? Keep your formation—”
Even Carlson, rubbing his stiff neck from a bad night’s sleep, fell silent.
It was a breathtaking sight.
Countless sprouts had risen from what had been nothing but barren wasteland.
But what stunned him even more was the giant dancing wildly among them.
Besimer, singing loudly in a tribal language no one else understood, was performing a ridiculous dance.
“Men.”
At Carlson’s voice, the soldiers focused.
“Did your captain start drinking the moment he woke up?”
The soldiers shook their heads.
“Then has that lump of muscle finally gone insane?”
The soldiers quietly nodded.
“Look! I told you—it works! It works!”
Another madman joined in.
Hans.
Two days ago, he had gotten into a fight with a veteran soldier and now had a badly bruised eye.
Even so, he grinned foolishly and danced along with Besimer.
“The sprouts have come up! They’ve come up, you bastards!”
“I told you! If the young lord says it’ll work, it will!”
Their chaotic dancing continued.
“Men. Drag those idiots away. They’re disrupting training.”
Carlson frowned.
Because of Hans and Besimer’s antics, the morning run was delayed.
***
Bang!
“What do you mean? They just sprouted, and you’re going to tear them all up?”
“You’ll break the table. Yawn…”
Isaac scratched his messy hair and let out a wide yawn.
He still carried the bearing of a noble child, but he looked filthy and smelled faintly.
Not as bad as the soldiers, but he hadn’t bathed either.
It had already been over a month.
Though soldiers hauled water from afar every day, using it for anything beyond drinking and cooking was a luxury.
He hadn’t even slept properly, spending day and night studying the Wolf King’s magic stone Besimer had given him.
Normally he would pace himself, but his long-dormant curiosity for magical theory had flared up again.
Just as he had made good use of the frost magic stone from the Winter Queen Spider,
there had to be something to gain from the Wolf King’s stone as well.
But its purpose remained a mystery.
The strangely warm stone revealed nothing.
“They sprouted just as you intended, boss. That proves something can grow here, doesn’t it? So why plow everything under?”
“That’s not just grass.”
“…What?”
“They’re plants from the demon realm.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Exactly what I said. They grow by feeding on the mana in the soil.”
What Waller had brought wasn’t just fertilizer.
Mixed within it were seeds—plants from the demon realm.
“Those sprouts will grow, bloom, and absorb all the mana embedded in this soil. After that, we’ll use them as green manure.”
“Green manure?”
“Once their growth cycle ends, they’re no different from ordinary plants. When we plow them under and they decompose, they’ll become new nutrients for the soil.”
“…When did you come up with all this?”
Besimer blinked.
“Who knows.”
Isaac shrugged.
“Then why… did the tribes of this land, or Goethe, never even try something like this?”
“The Wolf King. Hell Wolves. Virpier. Shamanism. And the belief that nothing can grow in Vinfelt.”
“…!”
“That’s how it is.”
Even when Countess Adele had proposed purifying Vinfelt using the blue flowers, she had faced immense opposition.
They were already short on troops—how could they waste manpower exterminating the beasts of Vinfelt?
The Wolf King, Hell Wolves, and other monsters.
Rumors that people could turn into wolves.
Skeptics who dismissed it as impossible.
In the end, if Adele hadn’t risked her life to lead the campaign, it would never have been attempted.
Thanks to that, Goethe managed to survive a while longer.
But because of it, Adele was injured and her body weakened.
That weakened body couldn’t withstand the endemic disease she later contracted during the White Serpent Mountain campaign.
Priests of the New Faith praised her as a righteous one, a blessed soul, a martyr, and a servant of God—
saying her faint love for her son had saved Goethe’s people.
Such titles were almost laughable for the daughter of a great tribal chief.
And the Count of Goethe never liked those praises.
Because while her actions saved Goethe… they took her life.
***
“So when do we plow the field?”
“…Let’s wait a bit. They haven’t fully grown yet.”
Isaac replied, pushing away the painful memory.
He would never allow such a tragedy again.
[May your long night someday end.
May you find peace.]
That final letter from his mother—
he would ensure it was never written again.
“…I miss you, Mother.”
Isaac muttered unconsciously.
“Guess you’re still a kid after all.”
“Well, you miss your father too, don’t you?”
“…That’s true.”
Besimer scratched his bald head, looking unusually downcast for someone of his size.
“He’s probably watching from Valhalla. Let’s give it our best.”
Isaac stood up and patted Besimer’s arm.
“Is that even something you need to say? Of course. Just give the word. If needed, I’ll rip up even the ancient trees of the Black Forest.”
Flames flickered in Besimer’s eyes.
“Calm down. That won’t be necessary.”
Isaac waved his hand dismissively.
***
Three more days passed.
Just as Isaac had predicted, the flowers bloomed.
Only then did the soldiers realize—
the flowers blooming over the fertilizer were no ordinary wildflowers.
The grass had grown as tall as their waists.
They hadn’t reached the distant hills on the horizon,
but around the camp, lush greenery and blue flowers created a strange, vibrant energy.
The soldiers made a fuss, calling it magic or a miracle—
but to Isaac, this was only the beginning.
“Besimer. Plow it under.”
“Understood. I’ll carry out your orders.”
At Isaac’s command, training time was temporarily replaced with labor.
Except for those on duty, all soldiers were mobilized to plow the land.
“Hrraaah!”
Crack—! Crack—! Crack—!
Besimer gripped an axe in each hand and brought them down mercilessly.
Soil and uprooted blue flowers scattered in all directions.
“Hey—watch it!”
The nearby soldiers, splattered with dirt and manure, cursed, but Besimer paid them no mind.
He worked tirelessly, drenched in sweat.
Most of the soldiers, however, had already lost their motivation.
“Huff… huff… damn it, this isn’t like hammering metal or anything.”
Frozen ground wasn’t called frozen for nothing.
Before long, the permafrost layer revealed itself, and whether it was a shovel, a sword, or an axe, the blades quickly dulled.
“Ah, shit. What are we even supposed to do?”
Some soldiers nearly threw down their tools in frustration—but stopped themselves.
Partly because Carlson was watching.
But more than that, because of what they saw before them.
Especially those who had been stationed here the longest.
For thirteen years, they had never once seen such vivid green.
It didn’t feel like waiting helplessly for a bleak future anymore—
it felt like taking a step forward.
Like something was finally changing.
Their palms throbbed, wrists ached, shoulders burned, their entire bodies screamed—
yet none of them dared complain.
Because this was the first hope they had ever seen.
“Give it here.”
Carlson approached a soldier struggling with a shovel that wouldn’t even bite into the ground.
“Ah—yes?”
“The shovel. Hand it over.”
The soldier awkwardly passed it to him.
“Watch carefully.”
Carlson simply began digging.
“…Huh?”
The frozen ground, which had barely been scratched before, was now being carved out in chunks.
The soldiers stared blankly.
Even striking with full force had barely left a mark before—
yet Carlson was lifting up slabs of frozen earth as if it were nothing.
“Is he even human?”
“How the hell is he doing that?”
After about an hour of work, Carlson suddenly tossed the shovel aside.
“This is ridiculous.”
He narrowed his eyes and looked toward Besimer.
“Hrraah!”
Compared to Carlson, who had neatly dug out a square patch of land to an even depth,
Besimer’s area was a complete mess.
“Huff… huff…”
Even Besimer seemed to be reaching his limits—his breathing grew heavier, his swings slower.
After about an hour, even Carlson realized this was no ordinary task.
Without a word, he strode into the camp.
The soldiers watched him go, confused.
***
“My lord. May I enter? My lord?”
Carlson called from outside Isaac’s tent, but there was no reply.
“I’m coming in.”
He lifted the flap and stepped inside.
Ordinarily, barging in like that would have been a grave offense for a guard—but Carlson didn’t care.
Their relationship wasn’t a strict hierarchy—it was closer to an equal exchange.
“…Hmm.”
“…Whoa.”
The moment he entered, Carlson covered his nose.
A sharp smell of urine and filth filled the tent.
It didn’t take long for him to find the source—a chamber pot in the corner.
Hans had been too busy with training and labor to attend to Isaac,
and Isaac himself hadn’t bothered emptying it.
In fact, it didn’t seem like he had any intention of doing so.
“You haven’t been coming out of your tent lately. What exactly are you doing?”
“It’s definitely resonating with my mana…”
Instead of answering, Isaac muttered something incomprehensible.
“At this rate, plowing the land is impossible. The ground is completely frozen. Other than me or Besimer, no one can make any progress.”
Isaac’s target depth was two meters.
Only then could they create artificial soil using sand and gravel, allowing wheat or barley to take root properly.
But in reality, only Carlson and Besimer could dig effectively.
Even with their abilities, turning over hundreds of square meters to that depth would take an enormous amount of time.
And Isaac wasn’t aiming for just a few hundred square meters—
he wanted tens of thousands.
They needed another solution.
“What about Waller?”
“No news yet. But as I said, it’s best not to expect much.”
Isaac had sent Waller to acquire livestock capable of plowing—horses, oxen, even donkeys.
But Carlson was right not to expect much.
Oxen and donkeys couldn’t survive Goethe’s harsh cold.
Frostbite, hypothermia, respiratory illness—they would fall sick quickly.
Horses could endure the cold better, but the royal court strictly limited how many Goethe could possess—
fearing they might be used as warhorses.
“So we’re stuck either way…”
Isaac sighed and placed the Wolf King’s magic stone on the table.
“My lord, may I come in?”
As Isaac pondered, Günter’s voice came from outside.
“Come in.”
With permission granted, Günter entered and bowed.
“You should come outside.”
“What is it?”
“People from the tribal village have arrived. There must be at least thirty of them.”
At Günter’s words, Isaac and Carlson exchanged puzzled glances.