The Lord Who Levels Up by Devouring - Chapter 199

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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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Chapter 199. The Rising Territory (1)
The outskirts of Whitewolf Territory.
Amid the frozen earth and biting wind, traces of human habitation were scarce in this desolate place.
At least, until very recently.
“Can people really live in a place like this?”
“There’s nothing but snow everywhere.”
“Are the children alright? The wind is so cold….”
A long procession of wagons and hand-carts stretched across the landscape.
Laden with household goods, the migrants moved cautiously forward—
“These are the first wave of migrants, my lord.”
All of them were seeking to settle in Whitewolf Territory.
And this was merely the first contingent.
Which meant second and third waves would follow in due course.
“The first wave consists primarily of displaced persons, my lord.”
State artisans and serfs were scheduled to arrive in the second and third waves.
In any case, when all were combined—
“The estimates suggest at least tens of thousands, my lord….”
Bernard trailed off, his expression betraying doubt about whether this could possibly be real.
It was an outcome that defied all logic.
Yet it also provided the foundation to resolve the territory’s pressing challenges in one sweeping stroke.
But a foundation was all it was.
The real work was only beginning now.
There were countless obstacles before these people could settle properly and be recognized as residents of my territory through “Management Mode.”
Considering I would need to use Predator’s Instinct [S] on each and every migrant….
‘My eyes will go blind.’
My head was already throbbing.
But there was no way around it.
Nothing determined settlement success quite like employment.
By identifying each person’s strengths, assigning them suitable work, they would adapt quickly and gain recognition as residents of my territory through “Management Mode.”
‘Let’s begin.’
I activated Predator’s Instinct [S] on each migrant as they arrived.
* * *
Emilia was a displaced person.
A sudden surge of monsters.
Her homeland had been trampled beneath a veritable legion of beasts, and since that day, she had never seen the neighbors and family she once lived among.
The only family remaining was a one-year-old daughter.
For her daughter’s sake, she had to survive by any means necessary.
But there was nothing she could do.
Her only means of survival was taking odd jobs from noble households in exchange for meager wages.
A life of barely scraping by.
Then she encountered the Northern Immigration Special Decree.
Though the land was barren, it would be better than her current life.
Emilia harbored such hope as she entered the immigrant registration office of Whitewolf Territory.
“Please submit your registration certificate and state your name, age, gender, and the number of people immigrating.”
“I’m… Emilia… 26 years old. Female… and there are two of us immigrating, including the child…”
The administrator with neatly combed-back hair confirmed the child on Emilia’s back and spoke.
“How old is the child?”
“One year old.”
The administrator tapped his quill pen with a scratching sound and asked again.
“Do you have any skills or trades?”
“Not really… none.”
“I see.”
The administrator nodded lightly.
Emilia, meanwhile, lowered her head.
An unskilled laborer with a child in tow.
It was a combination unwelcome in any settlement.
Emilia knew this reality all too well.
“For now, I’ll provide you with temporary housing. We’ll discuss further assignments after assessing the situation.”
“…Yes.”
Emilia bowed deeply and stepped back.
Her daughter slept soundly, oblivious to everything.
It was then.
“Wait.”
Someone called out to stop Emilia.
When she turned, a man beside the administrator was looking her way.
A man with an air of nobility, yet an entirely different presence.
Most notably, black hair—uncommon on The Continent.
Emilia immediately recognized him as the rumored Adrian.
Adrian stared intently at Emilia.
Her body instinctively shrank under that piercing gaze, but only for a moment.
“Have you ever heard anyone say you have a knack for handiwork?”
“…Pardon? Handiwork?”
“How did you support yourself before coming here?”
“I… I did hand laundry for noble families.”
“Hand laundry?”
“Mostly silk garments. Silk is difficult to wash, you see.”
The finest fabric—silk.
Yet silk is utterly ruined if washed with water alone.
There were special medicinal herbs for washing silk, but they were extraordinarily expensive.
Emilia had seized upon this, discovering a method to substitute manual labor for those costly herbs.
“I completely disassembled the silk and washed it.”
“You took apart every thread of the garment?”
“Yes. I carefully washed each thread I’d disassembled, and once they were completely dry, I stitched them back together exactly as they were.”
“You stitched them back together? You reconstructed it to its original state?”
“Yes.”
“The craftsmen’s designs must have been quite intricate?”
The silk garments designed by the craftsmen.
They were far more than mere scraps of fabric.
They approached works of art, infused with the very essence of aesthetic sensibility and technical mastery.
“So I memorized every wrinkle line, every curve of the hem, every placement of lace, and matched them perfectly.”
“…You did that every single time?”
“It was the only way to keep the silk from deteriorating while ensuring it was thoroughly cleaned, and the noblewomen appreciated the affordable cleaning costs, so they kept bringing me more work….”
Emilia had simply done what she was capable of doing.
Yet Adrian wore an expression of utter astonishment.
“…Your name is Emilia, correct?”
“Ah, yes.”
“I’m assigning you as the embroidery specialist in the workshop.”
“Me…? Really?”
“If you can handle silk cleaning to that extent, it means you already possess a sense of design.”
“But… I’ve never formally studied embroidery….”
“It doesn’t matter. You’ve been learning all along, unconsciously replicating the designs of countless craftsmen as you stitched.”
“Still….”
“If you’ve passed the exacting standards of noblewomen, you no longer need to learn from anyone. That already means you possess a craftsman’s sensibility.”
Adrian scribbled something hastily and handed it to Emilia.
“Take this and head over there.”
Emilia accepted the paper in bewilderment.
“Next.”
Adrian was already moving on to the next applicant’s documents.
Emilia lowered her head and stepped out of line.
“He directed me to come this way.”
“May I see the document you’re holding?”
Emilia carefully handed over the paper she’d received.
The soldier unfolded it and scanned it briefly before nodding.
“Confirmed. For workshop assignment… you’ll need to board the Ether Carriage over there.”
“An Ether Carriage?”
“There—do you see that thing that looks like a carriage?”
“…Ah, yes.”
But something felt off.
For one thing, she couldn’t see any horses pulling the carriage.
The carriage itself also looked distinctly unusual.
Graceful curves adorned the vehicle’s exterior.
It had wheels, but strange mechanisms were attached to it as well.
Most notably, a faint blue light shimmered beneath the carriage frame.
“That is an Ether Carriage. Since it’s still a prototype, it can only move along predetermined rails.”
“…?”
“Haha, once you ride it, you’ll understand. You just need to show the soldier this paper for boarding.”
Emilia accepted the paper the soldier offered and carefully climbed aboard the Ether Carriage.
The interior was remarkably comfortable.
Mana lamps illuminated the space brightly, and the seats were firm yet cushioned.
Inside were people who had boarded before Emilia, and they were all looking around with expressions of wonder.
“Wow…!”
“Is this the finest carriage that nobles ride in?”
“Even the finest carriages probably aren’t like this….”
Emilia shared the same thought.
As she continued examining the interior,
“Then we shall depart!”
The Ether Carriage began to move slowly.
It was moving on its own without any horses pulling it.
“W-Whoa!”
“It’s really moving!!”
“How is it moving without horses pulling it?!”
The children pressed their faces against the windows.
Adults too opened their eyes wide in astonishment, looking around in bewilderment.
Even so, the Ether Carriage raced across the Snowy Plain.
And its speed was remarkable.
Whoooosh—!
The landscape quickly fell away behind them.
Yet the interior remained perfectly quiet.
The daughter sleeping on Emilia’s lap didn’t even stir.
And in what seemed like an instant, they arrived at Whitewolf Territory.
“This is Whitewolf Territory?”
“G-Good heavens…!”
“Wasn’t it supposed to be barren land?!”
The landscape that unfolded before their eyes was entirely different from the rumors.
Tall, sturdy castle walls.
Orderly streets and clean stone paths.
And children with healthy, rosy cheeks playing about.
There was cold as the rumors suggested, but nowhere could they find the ruins or despair they had heard about.
“Is this… really the frontier?”
Someone’s murmur spoke for everyone’s feelings.
“Are we really going to live here?”
“They didn’t just decorate it specially to show us, did they?”
Cautious murmurs rippled through the crowd.
The sight before them was equally difficult to believe.
Yet no one could deny the hope budding in the corner of their hearts.
Emilia’s eyes glistened with tears.
She had only glimpsed the landscape of Whitewolf Territory….
“Ah….”
It felt as though she had witnessed something far greater.
Emilia and the other settlers, each carrying their own wounds and nurturing their own dreams, began their new lives in Whitewolf Territory.
* * *
The first phase of settler selection proceeded smoothly.
I used my Predator’s Instinct [S] to assess each individual’s aptitude, talent, and potential, assigning them the most suitable occupations.
Thanks to this, the settlers adapted to Whitewolf Territory with remarkable speed.
And because of that, they were quickly recognized as territory residents in “Management Mode.”
With that, achieving town status seemed merely a matter of time—but.
‘There were still many who hadn’t been assigned occupations.’
Not all settlers possessed talent.
In fact, far more lacked it.
Consequently, quite a few settlers struggled to adapt to Whitewolf Territory, drifting on the margins.
Yet as the saying goes, the earth does not nurture nameless weeds, nor does heaven abandon the unfortunate.
Lacking talent did not mean lacking potential.
Some seeds grow slowly, but their roots run deeper still.
Therefore, placing the right people in the right positions was the foundation of talent management—and.
—what does it matter if they’re useless? They’re people, after all.
That was Ian’s way.
Ian, supreme commander of the Allied Forces, the legendary hero.
Ian embraced the entire Continent in that manner… but I was uncertain.
I had neither become a vessel of such magnitude nor possessed the capacity for it.
Especially since whenever five or more people gather, there’s always someone unhinged among them.
‘Criminals had mixed in with them.’
Fugitives, escaped convicts, smugglers, identity forgers, and more.
All manner of criminals infiltrated under the guise of settlers.
This made sense, as the first batch consisted primarily of displaced persons.
If one mingled with this crowd?
Criminal pasts remained hidden.
Fortunately, there was a way to filter them out.
==【Character Information】==
Name: Renzo
Classification: Animalia, Mammalia, Hominidae, Human
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Distinctive Feature: Strong Bones [R]
The name I discerned through my predator’s instinct [S] was ‘Renzo’—.
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[Name]: Arvel
[Age]: 22
[Gender]: Male
====
The name written on the documents was ‘Arvel’.
“You there. What’s your name?”
Whenever two names differed like this, it was invariably a sign of someone with a murky past.
* * *
Renzo was a gladiator of the Colosseum.
He hadn’t always been a gladiator of the Colosseum.
An orphan cast adrift, he was a street thug who learned to throw his fists to survive on the streets.
He’d pilfer goods from general stores.
Pick fights with passersby, extort money from them.
Then one day, while robbing some drunk fool, he was dragged to the Colosseum.
As it happened, that man was a nobleman.
Dragged into the Colosseum, Renzo fought.
All he knew was street brawling, but that was enough to survive.
Yet the Colosseum was a place where mere fighting prowess couldn’t guarantee survival.
Eventually he fled, crossing into foreign lands.
He disguised his identity, posing as a merchant, wandering as a laborer.
And so he drifted here, into the Battenberg Kingdom.
Then he encountered the Northern Immigration Special Decree.
Though the land was barren, he reasoned that surveillance would be equally lax.
He changed the name under which a bounty had been issued.
He stole the documents of a displaced person and slipped into the migration column.
It would be impossible to inspect each of the countless migrants individually.
Even if suspicion fell upon him, a pathetic appearance and some convincing tears would likely see him through.
That’s what he thought.
“You there. What’s your name?”
Adrian Whitewolf.
Until he singled out Renzo with that question.
They called him the saint of Caravana and such.
Somehow, he seemed to possess the ability to see through people.
“Seize him.”
Soldiers surrounded Renzo in an instant.
At Adrian’s single word, the soldiers roughly subdued Renzo.
Shortly after, Adrian spoke to Renzo.
“I’m giving you a choice.”
First, be beaten to death here.
Second, labor as a slave.
And the final third option.
“Serve as a soldier in the Whitewolf Territory.”

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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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