The Imperial Supreme Commander Has Returned - Chapter 18

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Supreme Commander of the Empire Returns — Episode 18

“Haaah—”

Rubian exhaled slowly, spreading her Mana Field outward.
Concentric circles of mana rippled across the space in all directions.
The surrounding area felt as though she were running her fingers across it.

Every human carried mana within them by nature.
Which meant that unless the Concealment Art had reached an extraordinary level, it would be exposed.
Spreading a Mana Field like this was supposed to catch anyone trying to hide.

And yet… nothing.
There was no trace of Delam anywhere.

“Hmm?”

She wrinkled her nose this time.
Rubian had possessed keen olfactory senses since birth.
On an ordinary day it was merely exceptional, but when strengthened with mana?
She could detect virtually any scent.

And humans, after all, were nothing but the sum of their odors.
The smell of skin, of oil, of cloth—
No matter how hard one tried to conceal their scent, there were always limits.

“Hmm?”

Yet she sensed nothing this time either!
She’d circled the forest in a hundred-meter radius several times over.
But there was nothing to catch either her mana sense or her nose.

Only the occasional scent of earth drifted on the wind.
Of course, that was only natural in a forest.

“I simply cannot locate him, sir.”
“…Nor can I. Where on earth—?”

The Unit Commander’s face hardened at Rubian’s reply.
He too had learned the Mana Technique, though only a general-purpose version.
And he hadn’t been studying it for very long.

Rubian, by contrast, was different.
Born into one of the Kingdom’s five great families, she had entered her training from earliest childhood, and the Mana Techniques she studied were among the finest in all the Kingdom.
She was even now a Mid-rank Knight, no less!

And yet even Rubian couldn’t find him?
If that was the case, there could be only one conclusion.

“He has violated the rules. He’s escaped the forest.”
“Tsk…”
“Poor training results are acceptable. We can simply teach him again. But for a member of the Special Operations Unit to break the rules during a special mission? That is inexcusable.”
“…”
“Still, out of consideration for Knight Rubian’s involvement, I will not charge him with desertion. It pains me, though. These past three days… Ah!”

The Unit Commander’s voice grew louder.
Not from anger, but from regret.

And for good reason.
Delam’s training record could be summed up in a single phrase―

[All-time best]

Top talent? A prodigy of exceptional caliber?
He was operating on an entirely different level.
Ordinary soldiers couldn’t even reach his heel.
To find comparable records, one would need to go at least as far as Knights.

And yet, he could not be accepted.
The Special Operations Unit lived and died by trust and loyalty.
What if he were bought by the enemy?
What if he abandoned his comrades and fled when a mission grew difficult?
To accept him on skill alone, without reservation, could turn him into a hidden blade that would lead tens of thousands of Kingdom Army soldiers to their deaths.

“No.”
“But Rubian―”
“I trust him. The boy I saw was not capable of such things. Young though he may be, he carried himself with more confidence than anyone, his thoughts ran deep, and he was loyalty incarnate―a Knight in the truest sense.”

“Come out now, boy.”

“I’ve prepared food for you. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I made a variety. The first dishes I’ve ever cooked in my life.”

The Unit Commander found himself feeling sympathetic toward the female Knight.
She wouldn’t want to admit it.
Beyond rank or skill, being betrayed by someone you trusted was a wound no one could escape unscathed.

“Do you have lamb ribs?”
“…Eh!?”

But it was in that moment.
A youthful voice emerged from nowhere.
He hadn’t spoken for hours, so it came slightly hoarse.
But there was no doubt―it was Delam’s voice.

Rustle.

With that, a patch of tall grass rose up.
Dirt and grass cascaded from his hair and shoulders.

Both of them were far more startled than when they’d heard his voice.
He wasn’t hidden somewhere distant or in an unexpected location.
Delam had been right beside them the whole time!

“Ah, no? What… what is this?”
“I could have held out longer, but you called for me, so I came out. It’s past noon already, and I’m getting hungry.”

Delam spoke to the bewildered Unit Commander.
The Commander was so shocked he could barely form words.
But there was one who reacted differently.

“What a magnificent lad!”
“Mm.”

Rubian rushed forward and pulled Delam into a tight embrace.
Delam rubbed the bridge of his nose self-consciously.
Regardless of age or strength, having someone truly believe in you was a feeling worth savoring.
Especially when you’d only just met them.

Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat.

So no one knew.
That a single mole had burrowed through the earth and vanished.

* * *

The table was lavish enough to be called anything but a battlefield.
And true to what one might expect of a Knight, there was hardly a vegetable in sight.
Nothing but meat, meat, and more meat.

Among the dishes were Lamb Ribs, Delam’s favorite.
When he was a shepherd, those wretched animals never listened to a word he said.
More than once, he’d fantasized about roasting them just like this.

“Is it good?”
“Yes, it’s… edible.”

Crunch, crunch.

Delam ate on without pause.
Watching him, Rubian let out a soft laugh.
Edible, he says—yet look at him devour it.

Adolescent pride truly knows no bounds.
He couldn’t bring himself to admit it tasted good, so instead he shoveled it down like a starving man.

‘This one really can’t cook at all.’

But Delam was sincere about it.
The food Rubian had carefully prepared was genuinely unpalatable.
Every dish screamed its failings with every fiber.

[Low heat for ten minutes? A minute on high and you’re done!]
[Onions needed? Green onions are onions too—close enough!]

There was no way food prepared like that could taste good.
Yet Delam ate heartily regardless, and the reason was simple.
Soldiers, as a rule, eat anything without complaint.

Even Delam, who’d risen to the rank of Commander-in-Chief, was no exception to this law.
It was a principle of the world.

‘Besides—it’s meat. After I returned and spent every day in my hometown eating nothing but potato stew, potato bread, roasted potatoes, boiled potatoes.’

Truth be told, in terms of rations, conscription might have been the better bargain.
The problem was dying after missing a few meals.

“But Knight, aren’t you eating?”
“I’m full just watching you eat.”

Rubian spoke with a faint smile.
Delam smiled back outwardly, but inwardly he grumbled.
That was the problem with people who couldn’t cook.
They never taste their work—neither while making it nor after.

By the end, nearly five plates’ worth had been polished clean.
Seeing this, Rubian rang the small bell in the Barracks.
A servant from outside entered and cleared the table.
A Mid-rank Knight, and the descendant of a prominent family, could afford such luxuries even on the battlefield.

“Someone from your family came with you, I take it?”
“That’s right. How did you know?”
“Well, anyone ought to be terrified on a battlefield, yet you show no such fear. It means your trust in the Knight runs deep—deeper than someone who’s only known you for a few days.”
“You’re quite perceptive.”

Rubian was impressed.
Though they’d only just met, Delam never ceased to astonish her.

She found herself thinking.
Unwavering spirit. Exceptional skill. Even that transcendent capacity to learn.
The boy possessed remarkably many strengths, but the most formidable—the one that truly set him apart—was that keen eye for observation.

‘Yes. I’ll teach him.’

And in that moment, Rubian made her decision.
The impulse had been gnawing at her for days, something she’d kept suppressed because no matter how she reasoned, it seemed like the act of a madwoman—but now she would do it.

Yet the longer she looked at him, the surer her instinct became.
She had to seize this boy now.
Even if it meant giving him what she treasured most.

“Boy… have you ever thought about learning the Mana Technique?”
“…I beg your pardon?”

* * *

‘Has she lost her mind?’

Delam stared at Rubian with undisguised bewilderment.
The Mana Technique was far more than merely a method of gathering mana.
It was the very foundation upon which the class of Noble was built.
Since the gap between those who had mastered it and those who had not was literally as vast as heaven and earth, the entire social order naturally rested upon this divide.
The value of the Mana Technique could not be overstated.

Of course, merely learning it didn’t guarantee one became a Noble.
At minimum, one had to achieve the rank of Lower Knight before claiming the title of Viscount.
To learn even the foundational Mana Technique at an advanced age was an undertaking so distant as to seem futile.

But if he himself couldn’t manage it, what of his children?
Taught from infancy, they would establish a noble house.
That was why it was truly invaluable—

‘And she means to teach it to me?’

Naturally, the Mana Technique was not shared carelessly.
Yet here she was, offering to pass it on to a common soldier.

‘To me, after knowing me only a few days?’

Delam felt joy and sorrow in equal measure.
He’d thought he’d grasped a rope to climb out of his station—but now he worried.
What if she wasn’t sane?

Still, he had to respond.
Delam forced himself to feign shock, his voice wavering.

“You would teach me the Mana Technique?”
“Yes, well—it’s not our house’s secret technique. It’s an entry-level Mana Technique that the servants learn. But it’s more refined than most basic forms, so it should serve you well.”

Most great houses possessed at least three distinct Mana Techniques.
[Secret techniques taught to the household head and direct line]
[Advanced techniques shared with collateral branches and Knights]
[Foundational techniques passed down to retainers]

What Rubian offered to teach was the third category.
It was a foundational technique, but one from a great house.
It would surely rival advanced techniques from anywhere else.

“Are you certain it’s alright to give something so precious to me……?”
“It’s fine. It’s only a foundational technique anyway. But you must never, under any circumstances, teach it to another soul. Not to your friends or family, and not even to children you might have someday.”
“I understand.”
“Can you swear to it?”
“I, Delam, do solemnly swear that I shall never divulge the Mana Technique you have taught me to any other person.”

Rubian nodded firmly.
It was an oath with no binding force behind it.
But wasn’t Delam’s steadfast nature itself proof enough?

‘I never thought I’d be able to learn a Mana Technique so soon.’

For his part, Delam felt an unusual surge of joy.
Of course, it could not compare to the Flux Arts—one of the continent’s greatest Mana Techniques, granted directly by the Emperor himself.
But what mattered was justification.

Truth be told, Delam’s defeat of the barbarian warrior had been something of a gamble.
A boy without a drop of Mana, defeating a Mana user?
It made no sense, though with Rubian’s intervention, the matter had been glossed over with a kind of willful ignorance.

The higher one climbed in the military, the more one’s origins mattered.
Connections, bloodlines, regional ties—they all played a role.
But surprisingly, the most crucial factor was trust.

The belief that this man was no traitor to the Kingdom.
Concrete proof that he was no spy.

But once one’s origins were established beyond question?
Then such people could be filtered out in the first pass.

That was precisely why Delam’s killing of the barbarian warrior had been problematic.
It was fertile ground for suspicion—that he might be a spy planted by some foreign house after being taught a Mana Technique in secret.
But that suspicion had vanished.
Thanks to Rubian’s backing.

And from now on, there would be no need to hide his Mana either.
A single phrase—”Knight Rubian taught it to me”—would silence any lingering doubts.

“Shall we begin your first lesson now, while we’re at it?”
“Will I be able to do it right away?”
“That depends on your talent. First, you must learn to sense Mana. It’s difficult to do alone, so I’ll help you.”
“Thank you.”

Rubian took Delam’s hand.
The calluses were far harder than her own, despite her years as a farmer.
They were the product of pain, built through countless hours of training.
Such hands had always filled Rubian with pride, but today something made her feel oddly self-conscious, her composure slightly strained.

“What do you feel in my hand?”
“I can feel all the effort you’ve accumulated over the years. It’s firm yet gentle.”
“D-don’t say strange things like that…… I’m channeling Mana into you right now—focus on sensing that.”
“Ah! Hmm… There’s something warm and comforting. It’s like heated air, but more tangible than that?”
“……!”

Rubian’s eyes widened.
No—she’d sensed the Mana Field already……?

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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