It was noon in Ironblood City, and despite her growling stomach, the Third Princess showed no interest in the sumptuous al laid out before her.
Instead, she was carefully reading a letter sent by her grandfather, Denken.
On the surface, it appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary letter filled with warm regards and the heartfelt concern of an elder toward the younger generation. But the mont mana was channeled into the paper, its hidden ssage was revealed in full.
A short while later, the Third Princess placed the letter onto a candle fla, letting it burn into ash. Then, she turned to her attendant and instructed, "For the next few days, have Vice-Commander Stanley take over all military responsibilities on my behalf."
The attendant was taken aback at first, then paled in shock. "Third Princess, you don't an to hand over your position to Vice-Commander Stanley, do you? While he may be easygoing and treats us subordinates decently, when it cos to battlefield experience, he's nowhere near your level. You've been through countless battles!"
"To us, you are the one and only sun in the sky," the attendant added with heartfelt conviction.
The Third Princess looked sowhat annoyed. She bit down hard on the rib in her hand and sighed. "Don't misunderstand. I'm not testing your loyalty. I really do have personal matters to handle, which is why I'm temporarily delegating authority to Stanley."
"Oh… thank goodness." The female attendant wiped the corners of her eyes, visibly relieved.
She was just about to inquire what kind of matter would require the princess to act alone, but then noticed the Third Princess silently staring at a pale-golden rune stone in her hand, lost in thought.
Recalling what had happened in this room not long ago, the attendant smiled knowingly and quietly exited the bedchamber without saying another word.
On the way to Kent Kingdom, Alan was like a child who had just received a new toy. He eagerly tested out the various effects of his newly acquired skill—True Death Eyes.
After nurous experints, he made a startling discovery: the targets that True Death Eyes could "kill" were extrely broad in scope.
This mysterious flow of mana wasn't just capable of inducing literal death. It could even sever the connection between a mage and their mana!
As everyone knew, mages required mana as their fundantal resource to cast any kind of spell. Without mana, they were like fish out of water or a deflated balloon—utterly powerless.
After testing the spell on himself in front of a mirror, Alan couldn't help but break out in a cold sweat.
The power of this ability was simply terrifying.
In fact, it surpassed all the other skills he had mastered so far.
While other abilities, no matter how powerful, still relied on mana as a prerequisite to be used, True Death Eyes could directly shut down the mana supply—rendering a mage nothing more than a lifeless husk.
"Next stop: Kent Kingdom. Passengers disembarking, please gather your belongings and prepare to exit the train."
Just as Alan was still marveling at the fearso potential of True Death Eyes, a pleasant chi rang out from overhead, followed by the conductor's announcent of the arrival and disembarkation procedures.
Snapping out of his daze, Alan redirected his attention to the scene outside the window.
Kent Kingdom. The na was hardly unfamiliar to him.
In fact, he'd already had run-ins with people from Kent back when his tier-diamond spell had been stolen and the Church dispatched elite forces to hunt down the culprit.
That night had been a turning point for him—from boy to man.
But what concerned him now wasn't the mory—it was Kent Kingdom itself.
This long-standing nation was widely recognized for its comprehensive national strength, likely ranking near the top globally.
In fact, it might even surpass the likes of Charlie and Barton Kingdoms by a considerable margin.
The reason was simple: while Charlie and Barton had been bleeding each other dry through relentless warfare, Kent had devoted its efforts to developing comrce and nurturing talent.
For nearly a century, it had adhered to a strict policy of neutrality—neither participating in nor supporting any wars.
Thanks to this approach, and its naturally advantageous geography—featuring both resource-rich mountains and vast fertile plains—Kent had managed to operate in a state of near-perpetual stability.
These foundational strengths allowed Kent Kingdom to maintain a proud, self-sufficient attitude. It rarely sought aid from others and had little interest in forming alliances out of necessity.
But that didn't an Kent lacked influence on the international stage.
Quite the opposite.
Many nations had actively sought partnerships with Kent, largely because its mountainous regions were rumored to house not only veins of precious mithril but also awe-inspiring ruins of ancient mages.
Even a single grain of dust from those ruins was said to be worth a fortune.
And should soone manage to decipher the ancient techniques of mana manipulation left behind, it could propel them directly into the ranks of the elite.
Who wouldn't be tempted by that?
Soon enough, the magic-powered train slowly pulled into the platform at Kent Kingdom.
But just as Alan and his companions prepared to disembark, the train conductor Brandt entered the car and apologized, "Mr. Alan, I'm terribly sorry, but you and your companions are not permitted to leave the train at this ti."
"What?" Alan frowned. This wasn't so wilderness crawling with spellbeasts—it was the Kent Kingdom's station. Why wouldn't they be allowed to get off?
"I'll tell you why!"
A young man dressed in a deep green military uniform strode confidently into the train car. Several dals adorned his chest, glinting under the cabin lights.
He walked with his hands in his pockets, arrogance radiating from his every movent.
After giving Alan and the others a once-over, he casually strolled around the cabin, examining the area with a sense of disdainful curiosity.
Eventually, the young major ca to a stop and turned to Brandt. "Inspection failed. Entry denied."
"Huh?" Alan's frown deepened. The whole situation made no sense.
Just then, Blanche quietly pulled him aside and whispered, "Don't act rashly. This officer isn't targeting you personally. He's targeting the Church."
"The Church?" Alan was even more puzzled.
Blanche, ever patient, began to explain.
"Word has it the King of Kent is a staunch atheist. Years ago, the Church attempted to establish a presence here—build churches, run outreach programs, all that. But the royal family firmly rejected the proposal."
"You know how the Church is," she continued. "They believe the royal family's defiance stems from a long history of indulgence in worldly power, forgetting that their authority was a gift from the divine."
"So both sides clung to their beliefs, and it sparked a prolonged ideological conflict."
"No one knows exactly how it ended, but what we do know is this: from that mont onward, Kent Kingdom has maintained a deep-seated hostility toward the Church. And the Church has all but given up trying to expand its influence here."
This revelation genuinely surprised Alan.
He hadn't expected that the mighty Church—so domineering and full of powerful experts that even its subordinates strutted about arrogantly—had once suffered such a setback.
Now, it made sense. That night when the tier-diamond mage from Kent Kingdom stole his and the Third Princess's spell, it likely wasn't just about money.
There was a deeper motive: to demonstrate to the world that the Church wasn't as untouchable as it seed.
"Sir, surely there's room for negotiation," Brandt said tactfully, his tone carefully asured. "You see, we've co all the way from Charlie. If we're not allowed to disembark, we'll be forced to camp outside the city—with spellbeasts all around. That's not exactly a safe option."
As he spoke, the conductor subtly slipped an oilpaper envelope into the young officer's hand…
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