CHAPTER 46: DEVELOPMENT OF THE TOWN & GUARDSMEN

As the golden rays of the sun spread across the sky, casting warmth over the bright blue heavens where white clouds drifted like lazy sails, the bustling life within Redwood Town stirred to motion.

Both the inner and outer walls teemed with activity. It had been just a month since Kaelor arrived in this strange new world, and already the scars of wilderness were giving way to the first breath of civilization.

Within the inner wall, timber frames rose like skeletal monuments to progress.

Those with even the faintest grasp of architecture guided the construction of key buildings, a sturdy workspace for the Leather Armourers, a place for the Armour Tailor, and rows of humble dwellings to house the growing number of settlers.

Beyond the walls, in the open expanse of the outer fields, over fifteen women worked diligently in the rice paddies, their dresses soaked at the hem, arms moving rhythmically as they nurtured the tender stalks.

Nearby, men and women alike toiled in the dry fields, clearing and tilling nearly twenty plots of land in preparation for the wheat sowing.

Damien stood among them, a quiet authority in the sea of motion. Arms folded, eyes narrowed, he watched silently.

He had shaved his face clean, not even a shadow of stubble remained, and had trimmed his once-wild hair into something neat and striking. His transformation was nearly unrecognizable.

The slaves who had worked alongside him for weeks could hardly believe the man before them was the same. Where once had stood a rugged, rough-edged figure with a wild tangle of hair and a haunted look, now stood a young man with a noble bearing and a face so finely sculpted it seemed carved by an artist’s hand. Many could not help but stare astonished by the stranger hiding beneath that forgotten beard.

On the other side, so far away that the people there looked like wandering ants in the dust, mere silhouettes blurred by distance stood the Guardsmen, all thirty-nine of them, forming a wide, loose circle. Their eyes were fixed on the scene unfolding in the center: Kaelor and Hound, facing off like two beasts preparing to clash.

Many among them found their attention drifting to Kaelor’s attire. His inner armour, barely seen in full, gleamed faintly from beneath his worn linen tunic. The tunic, meant to be white, had a weary yellow. But even that couldn’t hide the subtle brilliance of the Mountainhide Armour beneath. It shimmered faintly at the forearms and along the seams where his sleeves fell loose, hinting at something durable, refined, and unlike what any of them had.

Across from him, Hound stood bare-chested save for the leather straps crossing his chest and the twin Mountain Sabers in his hands. "You want to teach us how to wield a weapon?" he asked, his voice more curious than confrontational, as if trying to understand the man before him anew.

Kaelor nodded without hesitation. "I dream of the Guardsmen becoming one of the finest forces this world has ever seen. But right now, you’re all muscle, raw strength without edge. You possess powerful bodies, yes, but your weapon mastery remains stuck at the novice level. You swing with power, but not with purpose. I want to change that. I want to teach you how to advance."

There was hesitation in their eyes. Some crossed their arms. Others glanced sideways, sharing silent thoughts. They’d seen Kaelor fell trees as if they were twigs. His strength was undeniable. But standing now against Hound whose strength they’d tested firsthand, was another matter entirely.

Hound wasn’t just strong. He was devastating. A full-powered blow from him could shatter a man’s bones, and he had proved that more than once. While Kaelor had fused with wolves, his transformation was subtler. He didn’t carry the pronounced beast-like features that others bore, nor the terrifying ferocity that Hound seemed to naturally radiate.

Respect existed, no doubt. But doubt shadowed it, doubt that Kaelor could match someone like Hound. And that was precisely why Kaelor chose him.

"Shall we begin?" Kaelor said calmly as he took a stance. His feet anchored into the earth, body still, but poised like a coiled spring.

Without warning, Hound moved. One breath, he, who was several meters away, was airborne above Kaelor, both sabers raised high like executioner’s blades. A roar burst from his lungs as he brought them crashing down.

Kaelor stepped to the side, not hurriedly, but with fluid ease.

The sabers carved through the air where he had just been, sending a violent gust past Kaelor’s face, enough to whip his hair and make his clothes ripple. Hound didn’t pause. He spun into a vicious horizontal sweep, the sabers humming as they sliced through the air.

Kaelor ducked low, his body dropping like a weightless leaf, then shifted backward with nimble grace. His eyes narrowed. A faint glow lit his pupils.

His mana vision had activated, an instinctive response for anyone who had reached the Expert rank. In that moment, Kaelor saw the truth beneath Hound’s movements. Mana coursed through Hound’s body like rivers of light, surging into his arms, flowing into his legs, bracing his core.

Every motion Hound made was instinctively enhanced, his body sending mana to where it was needed, exactly when it was needed. He was unconsciously refining his strikes, predicting his own flow, guiding his strength with purpose.

Kaelor’s breath slowed.

Hound wasn’t just powerful.

In saber skills alone... he was nearing the threshold of the Expert rank.

And that was exactly what Kaelor had hoped for.

Suddenly, his nimbleness vanished, replaced by a sudden, crushing weight, like a frail leaf morphing into a mountain in the space of a breath. It was no longer speed alone that defined him, but the sheer presence he now radiated.

When Hound launched a strike, Kaelor stepped boldly into it, pivoting his frame and swinging his sword in a sharp diagonal arc. The blade met Hound’s saber at a precise angle, not to block head-on, but to redirect, to deflect the brunt of the force away like water sliding off stone.

Lowering his right knee and anchoring it to the ground, Kaelor harnessed the momentum of that motion.

In one smooth movement, he surged upward, his body a coiled spring releasing, delivering a swift upward slash aimed for Hound’s midsection. Hound reacted with practiced instinct, raising his sabers just in time to catch the edge.

But Kaelor was not done.

Before Hound could even recover from the impact, Kaelor pressed the attack. A sharp twist of his torso, a shift in footing, and the blade came down again, this time in a heavy, downward arc.

The force behind it was immense. Mana coursed through Kaelor’s spine and flooded his arms, lending his muscles a strength far beyond the natural. It was not just a sword strike, it was a strike enhanced by raw essence, magnified to several times his own power.

And yet, Hound blocked it.

He crossed his sabers in front of him just in time, the impact jarring his arms and sending him skidding backward. His clawed feet tore twin furrows into the earth as he slid, the soil splitting under the resistance of his strength.

Kaelor’s eyes narrowed.

’The physique of a Master... truly monstrous. His knees didn’t even buckle.’