The Imperial Supreme Commander Has Returned - Chapter 29

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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 Imperial Commander Returns Chapter 29

“Sigh.”

Delram removed his armor upon entering his private quarters in the Barracks.
A reflexive exhale escaped him—the weariness was genuine.
It was from the sparring match with Rubian just moments before.

Rubian’s skill was exceptional.
The Greatsword Technique, which had shown considerable awkwardness at first, was improving daily, advancing toward perfection.
It was genuine, rapid progress.

‘This is why a good teacher matters so much.’

But Delram’s exhaustion came from another source entirely.
The Phlurex Arts, namely.
During the sparring with Rubian, he hadn’t stopped cycling through Phlurex for a moment.
Having to manage both swordplay and the Mana Formula simultaneously—no wonder he was drained.

Before his return, Delram had never trained Phlurex for long.
Perhaps only five years, at most.
Because of that, he never witnessed the true depths of Phlurex.

The ultimate truth of Phlurex was simple enough.
Sleeping or waking, walking or fighting—even in combat itself……
The Mana Formula would flow of its own accord, without conscious effort.

‘Still, I’ve advanced another step.’

In his days as Commander, he couldn’t cycle Phlurex during sparring matches.
Now, he was already managing it.
It was surely thanks to analyzing the Vistache Mana Formula and refining Phlurex more flexibly, evolving it further.

This time around, he was determined to achieve it.
The pinnacle of the Phlurex Arts.

‘At this rate, reaching Intermediate Knight rank should take roughly a year.’

A realm ordinary people could never reach, no matter how they polished their skills their entire lives.
And he’d arrive there merely two years after beginning study of the Mana Formula?
No Knight could fail to be astonished.
It was a privilege only a Reincarnator could possess.

—Hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo.

An odd sound interrupted his musings about the future.
Something entirely out of place in the Barracks—it was the cry of a bird.
Delram responded as though he’d expected it.

“Yes, wait just a moment. Let me change clothes…….”
—Hoo-hoo!

The cry came again.
Had anyone else witnessed it, they would have thought him mad—talking to himself in an empty Barracks where no sound existed.

But such was not the case.
A long perch built in the corner of the quarters.
Perched upon it sat the Owl, perfectly visible.

The Owl was peculiar.
Despite being a fully grown creature, it was no larger than a human palm.

Strangest of all was its translucent body.
The blue form would pass right through Delram’s hand whenever he tried to touch it.
To everyone else’s eyes, it didn’t exist at all.

“What exactly are you?”

Delram murmured, reaching out his hand.
The Owl fluttered up with a soft rustle, scattering a few feathers.
The feathers faded like heat shimmer before they could fall.

He hadn’t picked it up from anywhere.
Days ago, right after he’d poured everything he had into shattering the Altar.
When he opened his eyes again, there it was—simply present before him.

‘It must be connected to the Fruit from the Altar.’
Click.

With that thought, Delram opened the Socket.
Inside lay his mother’s portrait—smiling crookedly, just as clumsily drawn as ever—and a single Leaf with a cool, crisp fragrance.

Wasn’t that suspicious?
A Leaf and a Fruit.
The Fruit he’d consumed, the Leaf in the Socket.
No matter how he thought about it, they seemed to come from the same tree.

And then there was that impulse the moment he’d laid eyes on the Fruit.
A voice in his mind, overwhelming and absolute: he had to eat it.
That compulsion had driven him to commit such madness.

That was deeply strange.
What could possibly influence the mind of a Reincarnator—one who had rolled through battlefields for over fifty years, no less—and a Knight at that?

‘I’ll have to ask the Barbarians about this later.’

They might not reveal the answer easily.
But he had to know.

As for the Owl, well.
He could simply regard it as a curious pet and let it be.
The Leaf and the Fruit—mere coincidence.
Or just his own misunderstanding.
The impulse—just a moment of mental vertigo.

Yet there was one reason why he absolutely had to know.
It was because of the Wind that Delram now possessed.

‘The quantity of Wind has increased.’

Delram drew air into his lungs.
A thread of breath spreading from his chest to the very tips of his limbs.
At the same time, his entire body felt refreshed, and a sense of weightlessness washed over him.

This feeling of boundless freedom.
This sensation, as if he might soar without constraint or hindrance.
This was Delram’s vital essence—the Wind.

A mysterious force he had only recently come to perceive.
But the amount had increased explosively.
What used to be a trickling stream was now a proper creek.
Not infinite, but enough to draw from freely.

‘Let me practice again today.’

Delram dismissed the orderly and closed the barracks door.
Before him appeared candles, lined up in rows.
After studying one of them for a moment, Delram spoke.

“Owl, cut it for me.”
A soft hoot answered.

What happened next was astonishing.

A gust of wind seemed to blow—
and the candle split cleanly in two and tumbled down.

Slice!

The cut surface was as smooth as if made by a blade.
It was undoubtedly the work of wind compressed to an extreme degree.

He hadn’t been capable of this from the start.
When Delram had tried to use the Wind himself, nothing like this happened.
No matter how hard he struggled, a gentle breeze was his limit.

-Can’t even blow out a candle.
-…….
-Your wing flaps would probably be stronger. Want to try?
-Screeeech!
-Whoa.

And a gale had come roaring in, demolishing the barracks.
It happened right after the Owl flapped its wings dismissively.
When Delram did it himself, all he got was a gentle breeze!

After several attempts, Delram came to understand something.
The vital force within his body—the Wind.
When he used it directly himself, the results were meager.
But if he asked the Owl to do it?
The efficiency and power were absurdly magnified.

‘If only I could do it with just a thought.’

If he could launch a blade of wind without even speaking?
That could become a hidden trump card.
On impulse, he decided to try it right then.

‘Bird brain, cut!’
-…….
“Tsk, it doesn’t work that way, huh?”
-…….

As he clicked his tongue, he felt a burning stare upon him.
It was the Owl.
The Owl perched on his shoulder was glaring at him.
Then it suddenly began pecking at him frantically.

Peck-peck-peck-peck!
“Hey, stop! When I touch you, you just phase right through me—so why?”

Delram fled from the stinging sensation, muttering under his breath.
Still, he’d learned something important.
Mental speech did carry through to Owl, even without speaking aloud.

‘Owl, Wind again.’
-…….
‘I apologize for troubling your rest, O wise goddess of the forest. I humbly beseech you—would you please cut that candle down?’
-Hoot!

Slash!

The moment Owl’s cry sounded, the candle snapped in two again.
This time, the strike was faster and more powerful than any practice session he’d run before.
He’d found a method, but something about it nagged at him.

“…Good heavens.”

As he stood there grumbling, a strange sensation washed over him.
A thin, gossamer thread.
It stretched between him and Owl, connecting them.
In that same moment, Owl seemed somehow endearing to him.

‘This is… affinity, isn’t it?’

The understanding struck him with certainty.
The stronger their bond grew, the thicker the thread would become.
And if that was true, there would be more they could accomplish together.

‘But how do I raise affinity?’

Delram had kept hunting dogs before.
Playing with them had made them grow fond of him rapidly.
He’d let them hunt to their heart’s content, then reward them with fresh wild boar or venison, and they’d be absolutely delighted.

But Owl was different.
Delram had scarcely ever seen Owl eat.
So he had no idea what it ate, or what it liked.

‘And with that form, can it even eat anything?’

Delram shrugged.
This wasn’t something he needed to solve right now.
There were tens of thousands gathered at the Military Camp.
Somewhere among them had to be someone who knew Owl well—he’d find them, ask around, and try things one by one until he found what worked.

“Something will come up.”

Delram muttered that to himself and resumed his training.
Wind blades carved through empty air with razor precision.
He was grateful the Commander’s Barracks was so spacious.

Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!

* * *

The Military Camp of the Fior Kingdom was vast.
And not only vast—its defenses were formidable.
The wooden palisades surrounding the camp weren’t single-layered, but triple-ringed.

What of the perimeter guard?
A unit was deployed to monitor every inch within a one-kilometer radius.
Alarm Magic was laid out across the outer approaches.
A fortress of iron and stone.

Yet not all sections of the Military Camp were alike.
Among them, there was one place whose defenses were particularly rigorous.
The Commander’s Barracks itself.

……
……

The assembly in the Barracks was distinguished company.
Each division commander, the leaders of the Knight Order and the Mage Corps, senior Knights and strategists—all were present at the table.
The young man who appeared to be a scholar was among them as well.
Though he had no claim to the line of succession, he was among the royal family, a messenger tasked with reporting to the king on all that transpired here.

Which made one presence stand out all the more.
Delram.
The head of a kingdom commanding tens of thousands of soldiers.
And among them sat a boy of fourteen—an incongruity that needed no explanation.

“The hour has come.”

Through the silence, a heavy voice rang out.
It belonged to none other than the Commander at the seat of honor.

The weight extended to his words as well.
A two-year war against the Barbarians, to the calendar.
Now came the moment to bring it to an end.

Of course, the battlefield was a land of opportunity.
A chance to distinguish one’s house and make a name worth remembering.
Yet it was no place to linger by choice, and a flicker of satisfaction crossed every face at his words—brief, but unmistakable.
The Commander continued.

“As you know, two years have passed since the war’s beginning. In those early days, we were unfamiliar with the Barbarians’ strategies, and many of our soldiers had never seen battle before—we did not gain ground easily. But from our last engagement onward, we have achieved absolute superiority.”

The Commander’s gaze settled on one corner of the chamber.
Where Delram and the Sword Master Roel sat.
A silent acknowledgment of their debt—two who had shouldered the burden of the Rune and the Altar.

“Why do we punish the Barbarians? Because they presume to dwell upon fertile land that is not theirs.”
……
“Now the hour comes to transform that land into a bountiful granary, the kingdom’s breadbasket. This shall be our final campaign toward that end.”
……
“All division commanders—conduct your final preparations! Release all remaining provisions and spirits to the soldiers to raise their morale, and spare nothing in arrows, throwing weapons, and Disposable Artifacts!”

The Commander’s proclamation thundered forth.
The gathered officers answered with salute and voice, loud and clear.

“As the Commander commands!”

There was no need now for intricate tactics.
What good is individual valor among the Barbarians?
A boulder may hold back the current, but a landslide sweeps all away.
Strike with overwhelming force on all fronts at once, and the Sambala Tribal Alliance would crumble like sand before the river—utterly, irreversibly.

……Hm?

But something felt off.
Everyone else burned with resolve, yet one figure stood apart.
Delram raised his hand casually instead of offering the formal salute.

“Ah, I have something I’d like to say.”

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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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