Chapter 48: The Voice that held Him back.

Spes Umbra’s magical power was potent, but it was reckless, lacking any trace of efficiency.

It was no different from the desperate struggle of a beast drunk on its own strength.

‘Could it be that he, too, had looked that terrible?’ Philius furrowed his brow.

During his Rut, he also had absolutely no control over himself.

The only moments he could hold onto his reason were when he was certain Jay was by his side.

He clearly remembered hearing Jay’s voice from beyond the closed door.

Considering his intelligent, neat, and sometimes coy appearance, Jay’s surprisingly low voice anchored Philius’s consciousness, which was threatening to sink into darkness.

He didn’t even need to make an effort to listen carefully or remember each word.

Everything Jay said was naturally imprinted on Philius’s consciousness.

Those large, clear green eyes that never once avoided his gaze, even while saying he was scared.

That body, which looked smaller and weaker than his peers, casually deflected the energy Philius released recklessly.

At first, it was just curiosity.

Curiosity about the child whom many praised as talented, and the doubt and interest sparked by the claim that he couldn’t feel pheromones at all.

Thinking that it was a relationship where he unilaterally bestowed favors upon a small, fragile, and sometimes impertinent servant was merely a delusion.

How could he not be lovely? Every action, every word Jay said was simply salvation to him.

“If someone tries to harm you, Duke, do not hesitate. Survive.” There was not a hint of falsehood in those green eyes shimmering with tears.

“By any means necessary.”

Recalling Jay’s voice, which tried to hide its trembling yet spoke firmly, Philius gathered his magical power.

He bound Spes Umbra’s body, which had lost its reason and was trying to rush at him, right where he stood.

Everyone else had already collapsed.

It was a result caused by Philius’s own pheromones, but he intended to twist the cause into Spes Umbra’s Rut.

Just as Spes Umbra, surprised by his body not responding to his will, was about to let out another incoherent sound.

Philius covered Spes Umbra’s pheromones with his own.

A period when instinct takes precedence over everything else. That was the Rut.

Therefore, he was even more easily bound by an opponent stronger than himself.

The pheromones unable to be released wounded Spes Umbra’s own body.

Vivid fear appeared in his gray eyes.

A body repeatedly getting wounded and healing.

It was a symptom extremely familiar to Philius, but Spes Umbra screamed soundlessly with a distorted face as if experiencing it for the first time.

“Unable to control even your own pheromones, you are worse than a worm! Someone like you is a disgrace to the royal family!”

The voice he heard during his first Rut after entering the royal palace echoed like an auditory hallucination.

The King, Philius’s half-brother, confined Philius, who emitted strong pheromones, in the basement and had mages conduct various experiments on him.

When the mages marveled at the unexpected results, the King became extremely furious.

And he insulted Philius.

Brought to the royal palace after losing his parents, Philius had no one on his side.

No, even when living outside the palace with his parents, he had no one on his side.

Philip and Anna were his mother’s people, not Philius’s.

“Survive.”

Philius recalled Jay’s voice again. The unpleasant memory faded away.

Seeing his body in a mess after the Rut, Jay had built a nest like a bird.

A place soft as clouds was made for him.

Did he laugh then? Did he whine like a child? Or did he cry without being able to shed tears?

The affectionate care he received for the first time was so sweet. Like the Cafe Bonbon Jay poured directly into his mouth.

That unfamiliar sweetness created greed. It caused impatience. An impulse arose that he couldn’t endure no matter how hard he tried.

It made him forget even his precarious situation at times.

So he scared Jay.

He hurt him.

“Spes Umbra, in your desire to confirm the results of the battle yourself, you pushed yourself without properly realizing your own condition. Because you couldn’t control your strong pheromones and let them burst, the generals lost consciousness. It’s all your fault.”

A red aura seeped into Spes Umbra’s wide-open eyes.

His face resisting Philius’s suggestion looked like he was having a terrible nightmare.

But his rejection was only momentary.

The red aura that floated heterogeneously soon completely permeated Spes Umbra’s eyes.

Spes Umbra, injected with the pheromones of an Alpha stronger than himself during his Rut, struggled madly.

It might leave permanent damage to his pheromones, but Philius didn’t care.

Since the cause of the damage would never be known.

This incident will be recorded as all friendly generals losing command authority due to Spes Umbra.

The Commander-in-Chief, the Duke of Westell, will be just one of the victims.

The King will surely suspect him, but he will also become wary of Spes Umbra’s power.

He was that kind of person. Suspicious and self-centered as much as his desires were strong.

Wouldn’t it have ended everything faster if he had done this from the beginning?

Philius’s eyes glowed red again and then soon faded.

He was lucky this time. Spes Umbra’s Rut, and the weakened vigilance of the generals who trusted him.

Because these two preconditions existed, the current scene could appear.

If everyone in the headquarters had treated him with strong vigilance like when he first arrived here, Philius himself wouldn’t be standing here unscathed.

Philius suppressed himself, who was about to become hasty again.

It was certain the King had eyes everywhere.

Philius briefly examined his collapsed adjutant, Rassett.

There would be other eyes besides him. In the field hospital, and among the mercenaries.

He will survive. By any means necessary.

Philius closed his eyes inside the barracks filled with the scent of Spes Umbra’s blood.

He hoped to have a good dream.

A dream where a cozy nest welcomes him.

****

“Damn rain, isn’t it time for it to stop?”

Rassett, who came to collect mail but was stranded at the supply depot due to heavy rain, grumbled again.

“Stop grumbling if you aren’t confident you can deliver the letters for the Commander-in-Chief without smudging them in that rain. It can’t be helped.”

“I’m saying this because if not for this damn rainy season, we might have driven the Petan bastards completely out of the New Continent and boarded a ship back home.”

At Rassett’s continued grumbling, Supply Officer Captain Sella burst into hearty laughter.

“Your evaluation of the Commander-in-Chief is very high? When you first said you became the Commander-in-Chief’s adjutant, your face was really something to see.”

“Why bring that up again?”

“Am I wrong? If not for the Commander-in-Chief, how would we drive out the Petan bastards? Rather, our tombstones would have been erected on this damn land. Ah, maybe there wouldn’t even be tombstones. Since they wouldn’t make individual graves for those who died in droves.”

The Henian army also didn’t take the trouble to erect individual tombstones with care for the Petan soldiers who were practically annihilated.

They just dug deep pits and buried them all at once fearing epidemics.

Rassett, who knew more about post-war processing than Captain Sella, had no choice but to shut his mouth.

‘Is that guy also captivated by the King’s Brother?’

Rassett stared blankly at Captain Sella giggling.

Even after the King’s Brother personally stepped into battle and achieved a one-sided victory, his victories continued.

After one victory, a thick report usually followed.

Generals were now signing those documents mechanically.

Rassett’s contribution as an adjutant to the battle reports written directly by the King’s Brother was merely proofreading typos.

Actually, since he never pointed out anything, Rassett’s role was merely reading them in advance.

The King’s Brother’s merits, written exactly as facts befitting a report, made one realize how tremendous they were.

The deeds remaining in the dry style without reduction or exaggeration were enough to make Rassett, who watched him from the side, tired of it.

If asked if the King’s Brother’s mercenary skills were great, the answer was no.

As Commander-in-Chief, the King’s Brother didn’t deploy personnel in the right places, nor did he establish strategies by gathering all opinions coming from below.

It was just that the martial power his body possessed was enormous.

And that martial power came from his financial power, which Rassett couldn’t even properly gauge.

If I had such financial power, I could have shed the company-grade label long ago.

Rassett suppressed the surging sense of defeat.

It wasn’t just him.

There was no one left in this New Continent headquarters who could subdue the King’s Brother.

Even that Spes Umbra, said to be so great.

If Spes Umbra could spend wealth as freely as the King’s Brother, could he also have achieved war merits like the King’s Brother?

It was a meaningless assumption.

If winter hadn’t come and the period of continuous rain hadn’t arrived, Henia’s, no, the King’s Brother’s winning streak would have continued.

The unfamiliar winter scenery never imagined in Henia was just tedious.

While Rassett was shuddering at the terrible humidity, an acrid smell reached his nose.

Frowning and looking back, Sella was smiling with a lit cigarette in his mouth.

“Can you give me one too?”

At the immature young master’s carefree question, Rassett felt a surge of anger.

If the envelopes in his hand hadn’t rustled, he would have yelled.

They were letters to be delivered to the Commander-in-Chief. The thickest letter with the name Jay written on it was delivered to the King’s Brother regularly.

Rassett already knew that the thick contents consisted of densely packed numbers.