Ch.153153. Monster Subjugation

Einherjar’s Feast was more impressive than Gilbert had anticipated.

Gilbert, who had designated an area with his mana road and was using his super regeneration ability, could feel his mana road warming up as soon as the feast was declared.

It wasn’t painful; rather, it was a pleasant warmth that came from his half-damaged mana road recovering.

According to the skill description, this ridiculous super regeneration would remain active throughout the feast. Even considering its conditional nature, he couldn’t believe such a powerful recovery skill existed.

It wasn’t an instant effect like an elixir, but then again, were elixirs something you could just obtain whenever you wanted?

Any skill would pale in comparison to an elixir, the legendary potion that could completely restore someone in an instant as long as they were still breathing.

However, Einherjar’s Feast was a skill that enhanced super regeneration, obtainable only after fully developing recovery-type skills.

Considering that super regeneration alone could reattach severed limbs, its enhanced version might even regrow missing organs.

Gilbert was amazed to see his mana road—which he had doubted could ever be healed—repairing itself in real time.

It was extraordinary for a mana road, which even holy power couldn’t heal, to be restored in such a short time.

Typically, one could only rely on natural healing, and even that wasn’t possible for someone as damaged as Gilbert.

In that sense, the Einherjar’s Feast skill had potential comparable to a characteristic skill. It had no fixed rank, and most importantly, it still had abilities that hadn’t been unlocked.

Gilbert smiled at this unexpected outcome and looked around at the subjugation team members who were beginning to enjoy the feast.

Their expressions, which had been gloomy before the feast began, had improved considerably. The pressure of their first real combat and the sudden appearance of monsters had put significant strain on them.

It was unavoidable.

It was natural for them to be shaken after realizing that what they had taken lightly actually required risking their lives.

That was precisely why the survival rate of rookie pilots on their first deployment was so low.

Gilbert was a veteran pilot who had seen countless such rookies. Alleviating the pressure of real combat was something he had to do as a senior pilot, and boosting morale through feasts like this was also part of his role.

In war, having quality soldiers wasn’t everything. They weren’t chess pieces but people with emotions, and even the most excellent pilots could die from trivial matters on the battlefield.

In that sense, this feast was essential for the subjugation team members who had just experienced their first real combat.

“That was quite a speech.”

“Brynhild.”

Brynhild, holding a wine glass in one hand and a large bottle in the other, sat down in front of Gilbert.

“Care for a drink?”

“Is offering alcohol to an injured person part of the Sigurd clan’s culture?”

“Of course not. We’re not some barbaric tribe that considers alcohol a medicine.”

Brynhild frowned and filled Gilbert’s empty glass with alcohol. Her words and actions didn’t match, but he didn’t point it out.

“For someone saying that, you filled my glass before hearing my answer.”

“After nearly dying, what’s the harm in one drink?”

“Fair point.”

Gilbert and Brynhild clinked their glasses together and emptied them in one go. The sweet aroma of fruit wine spread in their mouths, leaving a unique flavor.

“You were too reckless this time.”

“I had no choice.”

“I know. But you could have asked for help.”

“No. Calling you in that situation would have been a bad move. You were barely maintaining the balance as it was.”

“You should have called me anyway, Gilbert. You seem to be mistaken—the only reason I’m here is because of you. Remember that if you die, I have no reason to stay here.”

“Even so, you wouldn’t abandon your comrades. That’s the soft spot of the Sigurd people.”

“I’ve never been more annoyed with you than today.”

Brynhild clicked her tongue and filled her glass to the brim before drinking it. It seemed like she was trying to clear her frustration.

Gilbert watched as Brynhild emptied her glass repeatedly and took the bottle from her. He knew that as a great warrior, she wouldn’t get drunk easily, but she was drinking too hastily.

“Gilbert.”

“What is it?”

“Do you remember when we first met?”

“I do.”

“When I lost to you in the duel you requested—a Volsung saga that was being forgotten even within our clan—and was told to help with the peace treaty between our clan and the Empire, I was truly shocked. According to the saga’s oath, I had to carry out any order you gave, even if it meant betraying my own clan.”

The saga’s oath was a contract made with one’s life and soul.

The binding force of the oath would have made her follow orders no matter what, and if Gilbert had ordered her to turn her blade against her clan, she would have had to stain her hands with her family’s blood without being able to resist.

It was horrifying just to think about.

For someone who loved her clan more than anyone, to have to bring about its downfall with her own hands.

Of course, it never actually happened. It remained a mere hypothetical scenario, and it was all thanks to Gilbert.

That’s why on the day the peace treaty was signed, Brynhild cut her hair and gave it to him. It was an action with the most significant meaning for the Sigurd people, but she didn’t hesitate.

“You were our clan’s benefactor, and as the great warrior of the clan, I had a duty to repay that debt. For us, hair has great symbolic meaning, and cutting it for someone signifies standing by their side no matter what. That’s why I cut my hair and gave it to you.”

“Didn’t you say it’s also given to marriage partners?”

“Of course, that became an unavoidable fact the moment you defeated me. Because that’s what I decided.”

As she added that perhaps that aspect was even more significant, Gilbert felt a headache coming on.

But he didn’t show it. He knew well why she was bringing this up.

“So, the only reason I’m at the academy is because of you. The reason the great warrior of the Sigurd clan came to the Empire’s center and became an academy cadet is because Gilbert Lyon Hart is here. Conversely, if you’re not here, I have no reason to be here. So take care of yourself.”

It was both a reprimand for pushing himself to the point of damaging his mana road and a concern that only the straightforward Brynhild could express.

She was telling Gilbert to stop seeking death. It was good to trust her, but she was reminding him that such trust was only possible as long as he himself remained intact.

Gilbert didn’t want to argue with her concern.

Such rough worrying always carried remnants of the past.

“Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“In that spirit, have another drink.”

“Offering more alcohol to a patient seems problematic.”

“Wouldn’t drinking serve as anesthesia?”

“Hans, as I always say, please think before you speak.”

Hans, who was being scolded as usual, and Angelina, who was doing the scolding, approached the table where Gilbert and Brynhild were sitting. Behind them came Lily, who was covering her mouth as she laughed, Camilla, who was roaring with laughter, and Ilen, who was as taciturn as ever, just smiling.

“Hmm-hmm! You can’t enjoy the feast just the two of you!”

“Camilla’s right. That’s cheating, Commander.”

“I agree, Sir Gilbert.”

As the surroundings suddenly became noisy, Gilbert’s eyes gazed distantly at something far away.

It was a faded piece of an old memory. A scene from his cherished memories naturally overlapped with the current situation.

A moment from that dear, longed-for time that would never return…

“Gilbert?”

Camilla looked at Gilbert with wide, surprised eyes. Having only seen his stoic demeanor in all their interactions until now, she couldn’t adapt to what had just happened.

She wasn’t the only one surprised by Gilbert.

Lily, Brynhild, the mischievous Hans, and even the quiet Ilen were just as shocked as Camilla.

The Gilbert before them was looking at them with a gentle smile they had never seen before.

***

“He’s hogging all the glory again. Who was it that went to help him?”

Ian grumbled as he watched Gilbert finish his speech and enjoy the feast.

Although his reason for rushing at the monster ogre wasn’t to help Gilbert, somehow in his mind, it had been transformed into him rushing out to aid Gilbert.

Ian’s emotional state had been unstable when he charged at the monster ogre, which had manifested as impulsive behavior.

Perhaps he had distorted his memory as a defense mechanism to avoid acknowledging that he was falling behind Gilbert.

Fresia thought the same.

Ian had distorted all memories unfavorable to him to construct situations advantageous to himself. His current complaints were an extension of that.

He was proud of risking his life and disobeying orders to save a comrade, yet he was envious that Gilbert had taken the important role.

Was this right?

Since that day, a crack had formed in Fresia’s heart.

Her determination to support the inexperienced Ian and make him a hero hadn’t changed, but after witnessing Gilbert’s true nature firsthand, she felt uneasy.

Especially when she saw Ian behaving like this, that feeling grew stronger. She asked herself why but couldn’t find a clear reason. Her chest was just filled with frustration.

“Don’t you think so too, Fresia?”

[Yeah… I guess.]

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

[No, it’s nothing like that.]

“If there’s any problem, please tell me. You’re really important to me, Fresia.”

Fresia felt some of her frustration ease at Ian’s warm words.

Perhaps this frustration was an emotion she felt because she had hastily judged Gilbert. It was wrong to have presumed him to be a scoundrel or a ruffian.

Fresia resolved to apologize to Gilbert if given the chance.

His actions were admirable and could serve as an example to anyone. It was natural to feel this way after unilaterally condemning such a person.

[Thanks for worrying about me.]

“Don’t mention it. By the way, I heard that Gilbert’s injuries are so severe that he won’t be able to participate in the next subjugation. This time, it’s our turn to step up.”

It was a statement full of unfounded confidence, but Fresia didn’t point that out.

His words weren’t entirely wrong, after all.

[Yes. This time it’s our turn.]

“Don’t worry. I’ll outperform that Gilbert.”

[I know you can do it, Ian.]

Fresia gave appropriate responses while looking at the commotion around Gilbert.

The heaviness in her heart was unavoidable.