War Warlord

"What's wrong?" In the War Academy's training grounds, the three-meter-tall Doom and Harlan were sparring.

Doom lost focus for the briefest moment, and Harlan's blade struck his stone sword, cleanly breaking it in two.

"Distracted because your father is coming back?" Harlan sheathed his longsword and ended the match with a warrior's salute.

In the two months since he had begun learning swordsmanship from Doom, Harlan had never defeated his master. His victory, won through a stroke of luck, brought him no joy.

"I sensed something. It's very far away, but I clearly sensed its existence."

Doom had never hidden anything from Harlan. He clearly described the sudden sensation that had appeared in his soul.

"Your brother?"

Harlan's words made Doom think for a moment before he shook his head hesitantly. "It should... not be my brother."

Though the sensation was faint, Doom could clearly feel that the star flickering within his soul was not as powerful as he was.

It could not be identified as a "brother." More precisely, it was a connection between a superior and a subordinate.

"But you..." Doom stared at Harlan, sweat rolling down his face. "Your progress these past few months is abnormal."

Harlan was over a hundred years old. In the Guardian Domain, where the average lifespan exceeded three hundred, he was in the prime of his life. However, he had already passed his peak, and his physical functions should have inevitably declined due to war injuries and other factors.

The process might be prolonged for personal reasons, but the decline itself certainly existed.

Doom had discovered that Harlan seemed to have entered a second spring. During their sparring, he often gave Doom unexpected surprises.

"I'd like to know that myself." Harlan gave a bitter, helpless smile. For a warrior, strength was something to be proud of.

But what if that strength came from nowhere?

According to the Warrior Law, abnormalities that violated common sense were subject to investigation.

The Nul People were descendants of the Gold Men. That fact made them powerful, but it also subjected them to immense suffering.

Their inherited genes had gone unmaintained for a long time. The genes of the Gold Men's descendants had been steadily deteriorating, and uncontrollable genetic mutations had even begun to appear.

The Night Watchers and the people of the Guardian Domain had relatively stable genes and rarely mutated because of genetic collapse.

However, a dedicated inspection agency kept a close watch on every citizen and conducted regular genetic examinations.

This was to prevent genetic collapse and the chain reactions that followed.

Harlan had been investigated many times. His declining physical functions had returned to their peak several months ago, and he had even grown several centimeters taller.

The uneasy Champion Swordsman frequently examined his own heart as required by the Warrior Code, taking strict precautions against the psychological problems that might arise alongside the anomaly.

"Damn it!"

An ordinary match ended amid Harlan's irritated impatience.

The frustrated Champion Swordsman was deeply indignant. "Why don't those inspectors, who see everyone as a potential mutant, come and inspect you?"

"You've grown three meters tall in just a year, and you're still growing."

"I only grew a few centimeters, and they swarmed me like wolves and tigers, treating me like an unstable bomb."

"That's their duty." Doom looked admiringly at him and said with complete seriousness, "The genetic inspectors have a very difficult duty."

"I know. I know!" Harlan grew even more irritated.

He could not understand how that lively child from before had become so old-fashioned.

Thinking of the past, Harlan looked closely at Doom again. He simply could not connect him with the handsome young boy with red lips and pearly teeth from before.

Now, his short black hair was neat and refreshing, and the lines of his face were distinct, imposing, and dignified. His thick brows were like ink, his black eyes shone brightly, his nose was high and straight, and the long, slanted line of his jaw was sharp and direct. His heroic appearance was godlike, inspiring the urge to worship him.

His powerful upper body was bare, every line of muscle clearly visible. A healthy, hazy glow covered his skin.

The shark muscles along his sides were layered one upon another. Between his raised pectoral muscles, the blood-red mark on his chest remained just as mysterious.

His abdominal muscles were sharply defined. Even the finest sculptor would have found it difficult to recreate the sense of power in such a perfect human body.

After looking him over once more, Harlan laughed smugly. Sometimes, he had to admire himself. In the presence of such a divine being, he still lived like a normal person and could treat him as both a friend and a brother.

When the teachers at the school saw Doom, their reverent expressions nearly drove their heads into the ground.

And those young girls pretended to be reserved while secretly peeking at him, a sight that was almost too amusing. In truth, the blushes on their faces and their trembling legs had already betrayed everything.

"Your father will be back soon. You and I should be able to follow him onto the battlefield."

At those words, anticipation burst from Harlan's eyes. With King Norwick's return, he should be able to take Doom and Harlan with him this time.

While in the Guardian Domain, aside from the first few days of rest, the Champion Swordsman had followed news from the front line without pause.

He had imagined that one day he could return to the battlefield with Doom and kill enemies alongside him.

Doom's abilities were truly terrifying. His powerful capacity for learning and comprehension had allowed him to complete the warrior assessment two months ago and become a Night Watcher.

From enrollment to graduation, no one had expected that in seven months, a child not even a year old would complete the Gold Men descendants' decades-long curriculum.

"I'm not particularly looking forward to the battlefield. I'm more concerned about Father's health."

Doom shook his head. Going to the battlefield was only a matter of time, but his father's condition worried him.

Since sending his father off on his campaign, the news delivered by the royal messengers had been bleak. His father's physical condition was terrible, and his mental state was worsening by the day, yet the accompanying physicians could find no illness or genetic deterioration.

Harlan fell silent beside him. As Doom's personal guard, the better he understood Doom, the better he understood him.

The battlefield posed no danger to Doom. Honor was a fruit he could pluck at will, without the slightest difficulty.

Only family occupied that softest, most cherished corner of his heart.

"My brother is here!" With his extraordinary perception, Doom immediately sensed a familiar presence rapidly approaching.

Flano Norwick wore an anxious expression, sweat beading on his forehead as he hurried toward them.

Something had happened!

Their expressions turned grave. From Flano's face, they could read an unusual tension and urgency.

Harlan quickly summoned several apprentices to help him put on his power armor and reach his optimal state.

Doom burst into astonishing speed and hurried to meet his brother.

"Doom!" Flano was extremely anxious. Panting, he grabbed his brother's arm. "Quick! Father is back. He's waiting for you in the council hall!"

Doom's pupils suddenly contracted as he realized how serious the matter was. The king's triumphant return should have taken him along Triumphal Avenue, the symbol of victory.

Choosing to return in secret meant that something major had happened!

"You go first. Don't worry about me!" Flano knew Doom's speed and understood that he would only be a burden, so he urged him to leave.

"Harlan, go with my brother!" Doom nodded heavily and ordered the armored guard before bursting into motion and leaving at subsonic speed.

When Doom quickly reached the council hall, the civil and military ministers who had remained behind were still waiting. The atmosphere was silent and oppressive.

King Norwick sat with his eyes closed, leaning against the throne. A needle had been inserted into a vein in his left hand, infusing him with a sustaining liquid. His complexion was extremely poor.

The tall, majestic king was in terrible condition. His face was startlingly gaunt, his eye sockets sunken, and his high, straight nose resembled a barren mountain peak. His hair was mottled white and hung from his head like withered grass.

The instant he saw his father, Doom's eyes trembled. He did not know how his majestic and powerful father had fallen into such a state in only a few short months.

Doom knelt on one knee before the throne and took his father's right hand, feeling how thin, weak, and unnaturally cold it was.

"Mm... Doom is here." After a long while, the king seemed to awaken. He looked at the son kneeling before him, roused by the warmth transmitted through his palm.

Pride and scrutiny filled his eyes, along with a trace of unshakable resolve. "You will be invested as the Warlord and continue hunting down the remaining Orks."

A look of astonishment appeared in Doom's eyes, but he did not question it. None of the civil or military ministers present objected. Clearly, this was a decision they had reached together.

The Warlord was a wartime title, the highest commander during a military campaign.

An attendant carried over a tray and presented the Sword Seal, granting Doom the authority to command the Night Watchers.

"You only have half the army!" Norwick's weary voice rang out as he slowly explained the arrangement to his son.

"I understand. I'll end the Ork war as quickly as possible." Doom accepted the Sword Seal with a resolute gaze, receiving the authority his father had bestowed upon him and shouldering his duty as a son.