Alterna.

The barbican gates stood wide open. Two lines of knights flanked the road, ceremonial swords raised high.

Last night, messengers had ridden through the dark to carry word across the city: the expeditionary force had successfully subjugated the Great Demon Geist.

A demon who had entrenched himself in the Southern Continent for a full century. Finally uprooted.

The news tore through the streets like wildfire. The entire city erupted.

Out beyond the gates, along the flat boulevard that the city lord had ordered mages to resurface overnight, crowds stretched from inside the walls all the way out into the open fields.

The mass of people surged like a swarm of ants. Children were hoisted onto shoulders. The elderly leaned on canes and rose onto tiptoe. Everyone strained to peer into the distance.

Then, at last, a dark silhouette emerged at the far end of the road.

Hundreds of silver-armored knights spurred forward to clear the way, their lance tips bristling like a forest, hoofbeats rolling like thunder. Behind them, the procession of adventurers and retinues stretched on so far no one could find where it ended.

The down-and-out minor nobles wedged into the barbican liked to think they had seen a thing or two. They hadn't seen this. Neither had the common folk pressing in on both sides.

People stared, mouths open, eyes unblinking, as the iron torrent slowly bore down on them.

"So magnificent..." they breathed, craning from behind the two rows of knights.

"Hmph. This is nothing." One minor noble had leveraged a servant to claim a front-row spot. Turning, they swept a contemptuous glance over the commoners behind them. "The real big shot hasn't even shown his face yet."

Compared to true high nobility and formidable adventurers, these minor nobles had neither deep pockets nor serious power. But they knew far more inside gossip than ordinary folk.

Which meant they also understood, better than most, exactly what kind of figure had emerged from this campaign.

Someone so far above their tier it barely registered.

To a person like that, a minor noble and a common laborer were essentially the same thing.

"..."

Kaguya Shinomiya and her attendant stood among the crowd, both of them visibly shaken.

Since learning of Banxia's feat the night before, neither had fully come back to themselves.

They simply hadn't been able to imagine it. That young man they had stumbled across at the edge of the forest, within a single month, he had gone and slain the Southern Continent's most powerful Great Demon.

Gold-rank adventurers, the kind who once seemed impossibly distant, were ordinary members of this procession. Platinum-rank adventurers, the highest rank the Continental Adventurers Guild recognized, barely warranted a second glance.

This expedition had mobilized the kingdom's Three Heroes and Alterna's most elite knight order alike.

And even with a lineup that grand, all those legendary names amounted to little more than faint background light beside the shooting star that had blazed up without warning.

"..."

Neigh,

The riders reined in as one. The thunder of hooves cut off.

The silver-white knights at the front parted slowly to either side, clearing the main road to the city gates.

In the crowd, someone sharp-eyed caught it first.

"That's Lord Kilian Black!"

As the kingdom's strongest warrior, Kilian Black's likeness was well known across Alterna.

"But why walk? Why not ride?"

The confusion didn't last.

Kilian Black was leading a tall warhorse by the reins, a magnificent animal in a silver saddle, walking it steadily toward the gates. And seated atop that warhorse, calm and unhurried, was someone else entirely.

The beast was a fiery, towering creature with monster blood in its lines. On its back, a handsome young man looked straight ahead, posture upright beneath his robes, the hem of his clothing drifting in the faint breeze. His face was clean and perfectly composed, as if the spectacle surrounding him couldn't produce so much as a ripple inside him.

"..."

Who is this person?!

The kingdom's strongest warrior, acting as a groom. Leading another man's horse.

That kind of honor existed outside the bounds of what anyone in this crowd had let themselves dream about, and here it was, unfolding right in front of them.

The crowd held its breath for one suspended moment.

Then it erupted.

Among the spectators, Kaguya Shinomiya and her attendant both felt their breathing shift.

"Lady Kaguya..." Ai Hayasaka murmured, having shed the disguise, though their eyes never left the young man on horseback.

It might have been an illusion, but the young man had seemed to glance in their direction just now.

The young mistress gave no reaction, so Ai Hayasaka said nothing more.

Their gaze dropped, without quite meaning to, to the young man's robes.

Those were custom-made. Crafted by Ai Hayasaka's own hands.

That realization sent a strange, unaccountable flutter through the chest.

And when he passed directly before them, close enough to touch if either had reached out, that strange feeling swallowed every sound in the world.

Only after he cleared the spot where they stood and moved on toward the road into the inner city did Banxia finally let out a breath through his teeth.

"Lord Banxia, are you nervous?" Kilian asked, glancing up while leading the horse.

"No. Not at all."

"Then why have you been wearing that expression this whole time?"

"...Mind your own business. This is just my face."

"Ah, I see! A form of warrior discipline?" Genuine enlightenment crossed Kilian's face.

Banxia didn't bother responding.

One evening's conversation had been enough to see Kilian Black for what they really were: a chatterbox. The kind who would flirt with anyone regardless of gender, an equal-opportunity menace.

Why aren't we there yet? He kept his face rigid and quietly wiped the sweat from his palm against the saddle.

As a fairly ordinary person, the biggest crowd he had ever faced was getting called on in class to read an essay out loud.

He had never dealt with anything like this.

Had he known, he would have physically dragged Roxy up onto the horse with him.

She had received an invitation. She had gone red in the face and refused flat-out. And now here he was, alone, enduring the torture of ten thousand pairs of eyes.

...

Alterna, inner city.

Before the towering castle, Banxia swung down from the saddle. Kilian handed the reins to a waiting attendant and led the way up a long staircase carpeted in red velvet, into the banquet hall.

City Lord Thorn came forward to meet them.

Slightly stout, fine clothes pulled tight across the frame, face arranged into an expression of barely contained, reflected glory, Thorn moved with an impatient eagerness that each step made plain.

"Hero who subjugated Geist of the Undead — on behalf of every citizen of Alterna, I offer you my highest respects!"

Thorn bowed deeply. The voice trembled, undisguised. A full night's worth of excitement, finally released.

Who could have imagined it? The Thorn Family's century-long ambition, fulfilled during this very tenure.

Behind Thorn, attendants and maidservants bowed in unison. The nobles lining both sides of the hall didn't dare take their seats; every one of them stood, gaze fixed on the absurdly young figure before them.

"Not only have you eliminated a century-long scourge from the south, you have elevated Alterna's standing among the kingdom's cities by leaps and bounds. I wrote through the night to inform the Royal Capital of this merit. A royal decree conferring your honors will no doubt arrive before long." Thorn straightened.

"In the meantime, is there anything the Hero requires?"

"Gold, silver, female slaves, any estate within the city — name it, and I will see it done."

"Anything?" Banxia glanced at his current storage.

[Current Stored Monster Time: 3,830 years.]

"Anything within our power to provide, Lord Hero."

"Then bring me some combat skill manuals and magic books."

"..."

"Pardon?" Thorn blinked, hesitating.

Not out of reluctance. The Three Heroes' letters the previous night had already made clear that this young man's abilities as both warrior and mage defied ordinary imagination.

"Lord Hero, you may not be aware — the war thirty years ago destroyed many one-of-a-kind combat manuals and magic texts. Books that would actually be of use to someone at your level... well... I'm afraid... that might take some time to locate..."

"I see." Banxia pulled his gaze away without particular concern, pausing a beat. "Then just bring out what you currently have. I'll look through it and pick a few suitable ones as my reward."

"Oh~ Lord Hero, what a magnanimous spirit."

A few magic books and combat manuals. That was all he wanted.

The way the nobles looked at him changed entirely.

A true Hero.

...

➤ Next: Hundred-Forged Body (Prismatic) lv.0

Chapter 54 - Hundred-Forged Body (Prismatic) lv.0

For the next few days, Banxia stayed cooped up inside.

Not because he'd suddenly fallen in love with being a shut-in.

If he could have it his way, he'd spend every single day in the red-light district without ever coming out.

Unfortunately, reality was brutal. The moment he stepped outside, neighbors would come rushing from every direction and swarm him so densely not even water could trickle through. They shoved eggs into his hands, grabbed his sleeves to recommend their sons, extraordinary bone structure, they insisted, begging him to take the boys as disciples, or thumped their chests and declared:

"I wouldn't dare ask to be your disciple, but becoming your adopted son and looking after you in old age works just fine too."

All any of them ever said was the same rotating script of "Lord Hero..." over and over, making it flat-out impossible for him to walk to the red-light district in broad daylight.

What made it even more absurd was that as the story of defeating the Great Demon Geist spread and grew wilder with each retelling, some people had already started venerating him as an object of faith.

For the sake of not sullying the beliefs of these common folk, Banxia had no choice...

He'd just have to wait for the storm to pass, then slip off to the brothels quietly.

"Lord Banxia."

Another knock at the door.

He sighed, stood up, and opened it.

"Not taking disciples. Not taking adopted sons."

The old butler standing there froze for a moment.

"Oh — it's you. What is it?"

"The City Lord ordered me to deliver all the battle technique manuals and magic books that could be gathered from across the city." The old butler stepped aside, revealing a squad of knights behind him, each with arms full of books.

Every one of them was carrying a thick, towering stack.

"..."

One glance was enough. The restless itch to visit the brothels quietly settled back down.

"Bring them all in."

At his gesture, the knights filed inside and neatly stacked over a thousand precious volumes in the empty room across from his bedroom. He hadn't done much with this three-story house to begin with, he'd only cleared out these two rooms, and now his sleeping quarters were the only livable space left.

The books rose in stacks like small mountains. The smell of ink and parchment spread through the room fast.

He stood in the doorway, staring at the treasure-filled chamber, and quietly swallowed.

This was way too much. Even reading them one by one, how long would that even take...

"Any recommendations? Battle techniques, magic, anything?"

"Well..." The old butler hesitated and glanced back at the knights behind him.

He was just a weathered old man. What would he know about any of this?

"I'm afraid I'll only disappoint Lord Banxia. For battle techniques, though, the knight order should have answers."

Taking the old butler's cue, the captain stepped forward immediately. "Lord Banxia!"

"Relax." Banxia waved a hand. "Just toss me a few recommendations."

"Yes, sir!" The captain bowed and pulled several volumes from the stack without hesitation. "These are all military-grade battle techniques, refined and corrected by successive generations of powerful warriors. In Alterna — or the whole kingdom, for that matter — they rank among the very best."

"Oh?" Banxia perked up and took the books.

He flipped through a few pages, put one down, picked up the next, skimmed it just as fast, and set that one aside too.

"Lord Banxia... are you not satisfied?" The captain tensed.

"No, they're all solid techniques." Banxia frowned. "It's just... is there anything that doesn't require Battle Aura?"

"Eh?" That stopped not just the captain, even the old butler blinked.

What legitimate battle technique didn't require Battle Aura?

The very first threshold for entering the adventurer ranks was mastering supernatural power. Without it, fighting monsters simply wasn't possible.

That was a truth humanity had carved out over thousands of years, paid for in deaths.

And the greatest divide between a high-tier warrior and an ordinary person was precisely Battle Aura.

A battle technique without Battle Aura was, at best, a regular fighting move. Calling it a "battle technique" would be generous.

The looks on their faces said everything. Banxia couldn't help feeling a little deflated.

"Captain, what about that one book!" A young knight nearby suddenly cut in.

"There's really one?" Banxia turned to look at him.

"That's enough!" The captain shot his subordinate a sharp look, then turned back to Banxia with a quick explanation. "Lord Banxia, are you familiar with the dwarf race?"

"Mm." Banxia nodded. Go on.

"Rumor has it that many dwarves are born with formidable bodies and tremendous natural strength, but in exchange, making any real progress with Battle Aura is nearly impossible for them." At that, Banxia let out a quiet breath of relief.

So he wasn't alone in this. There was an entire race in the same boat.

If that was the case, having no talent for Battle Aura wasn't really all that shameful.

"Because of that, a battle technique dedicated purely to tempering the physical body has been passed down among the dwarves." The captain sighed, then shifted tone.

"But it's only suited for dwarves. For a human trying to train it, the difficulties are immense."

"Apparently, a great noble's heir once refused to believe that and sold off his family estate to buy precious medicines. In the end, he barely scraped up to the level of an ordinary dwarf."

"And the most punishing part of this technique is patience. Just the most basic section alone is enough to consume an entire human's prime years."

"Dwarves live three hundred years without blinking, they can afford the wait. For us humans, trading a lifetime for this just isn't worth it."

The captain laid it all out to talk the Lord Hero out of wasting time on something so thoroughly impractical.

What he didn't know was that with every new "flaw" he listed, the eyes of the young man in front of him grew a little brighter.

"..."

A bad feeling settled over the captain.

He looked up and met Banxia's gaze, already lit up with unmistakable interest.

...

Once the group was gone, Banxia dropped onto the bed with the worn manuscript in hand.

The writing on the cover had faded almost completely, leaving only four plain characters:

[Hundred-Forged Body]

Simple name. No record of who had created the technique.

He opened the first page, and within a few lines he understood exactly why that knight had tried so hard to talk him out of it.

The technique was straightforward. Its philosophy was simple to the point of being blunt:

Treat the body as a weapon. Temper it through a hundred processes, over and over, until the flesh itself becomes the ultimate instrument of force.

No Battle Aura. No magic. Nothing but pure physical refinement.

The very first process, fire tempering, was enough to destroy an ordinary human body outright.

Without the dwarf's natural toughness, their dense flesh and staggering recovery, pushing through it was just asking to die.

And even among the dwarves, those who completed all one hundred processes were exceedingly rare.

Most hit the ceiling of their physical limits somewhere around the fiftieth, and couldn't move a step further no matter what they tried.

But those who completed it in full were revered by the entire dwarven race as heroes, figures of reverence for the whole people.

[Hundred-Forged Body (Prismatic) lv.0]

By the time Banxia finished the last page of the manuscript, the sky outside had gone completely dark.

A prismatic body-tempering technique. No natural comprehension required. No Battle Aura required. Just thinking about it made something in his chest run hot.

He leaned back against the headboard.

He already had Return to Fundamentals, a prismatic technique in its own right, but he knew exactly what that skill was good for. It leaned toward technique. Pure physical enhancement had never been its strength.

That much had been plain as day during the fight against Geist.

Six consecutive straight punches at full power, and he still hadn't put the man down for good.

At the end of the day, this body of his was just too weak.

If he ever ran into a genuinely equal opponent, he'd be outclassed at every turn. Return to Fundamentals might keep him standing, but if someone decided to cut and run, he had no real answer for that.

Now, finally, he had something better.

Which meant only one thing:

"System, max it out."

➤ Next: Banxia's Cultivation — Ascension