Reincarnated User Manual

At the Knight Regiment Camp of the Steel Knights.

Malleus stared at the printed document distributed by a lower-ranking knight.

Location, organizer, number of participants, precautions, and rules…

The document, concise and focused on essential details, clearly reflected the nature of the current Emperor, even without needing to meet him in person.

After taking a few sips of his coffee, Malleus slowly began to speak.

“Let’s conclude this ordinance here. Everyone, attend to your duties.”

“Captain.”

Malleus lifted his head at the sound. A junior knight, still with hints of youth but no longer a novice, stood up and looked towards him.

Paulo Martini. A newcomer to the 2nd Unit of the Steel Knights.

“I have a few things to inquire about.”

Paulo confidently began to speak.

“I believe there’s a missing detail on the document I received.”

“What’s that?”

“The event date isn’t mentioned. I think this might be an administrative oversight from the organizers.”

“Hmm…”

Upon hearing Paulo’s words, Malleus glanced at his deputy.

“Deputy.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“It seems some information wasn’t relayed properly. This isn’t a suitable question for a representative to be asking.”

“Well…”

As Malleus shot a sharp look, the deputy, turning slightly pale, shot a glance at the fearless newcomer.

However, Paulo, oblivious to any wrongdoing, just blinked in confusion.

‘That impudent…’

In a typical organizational society, when someone had a question or request, it was proper to report to a higher authority and receive instructions. But there was a limit to how far such norms should be followed.

‘This chick just shed his novice skin and dares to bluntly speak to the captain.’

Under normal circumstances, he should be pulled aside and firmly reprimanded. However, no one, including Malleus, reproached him.

And for a good reason,

Paulo was representing the Steel Knights Regiment at this meeting.

He wore the badge of representation, bearing the expectations of those around him. There was no need to quash the spirit of a youth who, despite this pressure, still exuded confidence.

He had only been a full-fledged knight for a year, freshly receiving his knighthood from the Pope, and was currently basking in self-confidence.

Knowing what that felt like, Malleus refrained from criticizing or scolding the young Paulo.

‘Compared to the boy who came with his freshly cut throat, what Paulo did was…’

In a corner of his mind, Malleus thought of Shiron. In comparison to the boy’s endless troubles, Paulo’s rudeness was almost endearing. Malleus smiled, feeling a bit more relaxed.

“That’s fine. It was the same 5 years ago. Even 10 or 20 years ago, the announcement never had the event date mentioned. So, sit down now.”

“…Yes.”

Paulo scratched the back of his head and took his seat, his youthful face flushing with embarrassment.

His eyes moved to the paper in front of him.

[Event Date: ]

Whether it was the conspicuous blank space or Malleus’s gaze that troubled him, Paulo felt a bit dizzy.

One cannot precisely know when the start date will be.

This uncertainty revealed that the Subjugation Festival was not just a mere festivity; it was an element that even magic found hard to elucidate.

Thus, at this moment, lookout towers were erected throughout the Arwen Plateau to monitor all directions.

Unlike the morning fog, which was created by the condensation of moisture in the cold night air, the mist constantly emitted by magical creatures becomes noticeable, accompanied by murky magical energy when the sun reaches its zenith.

And then,

“The fog! The fog is starting to form!”

Two plumes of smoke rose from the watchtower.

From 96 meters above the ground, at the observatory of the station,

Court Mage Arak observed the two rising plumes of smoke beyond the window.

“Your Majesty, the fog has begun to set in.”

“Hmm, I see.”

The Emperor responded without turning his gaze towards Arak.

Despite the vast window in front of him, the Emperor hadn’t looked at the fog. His attention was solely on the bundle of papers in his hand.

‘It’s missing.’

The Emperor’s expression was slightly distorted.

Among the forty-nine papers representing the participants’ applications, there wasn’t one from the boy he sought. The Emperor repeatedly blinked, realizing the absence of the name ‘Shiron Prient’.

‘If he was going to decline, why would he come here in the first place?’

Yesterday, the Emperor received a report that Johan Urheim and his Knight Regiment had arrived at Arwen Station.

Given the frequent replenishment of troops in the magic realm, it was predictable that Hugo’s knight regiment would participate in the Torbol Festival.

Furthermore, he heard two children, including a black-haired boy who was unmistakably Shiron Prient, were with them.

‘I thought he wouldn’t decline…’

“Chief Steward.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Is this the entirety of the applications?”

“Is there someone specific you are looking for? I can summon someone to search.”

“…Very well.”

While looking at the top of the bowed Chief Steward’s head, the Emperor held back his tongue. Beside him was a separately placed piece of paper.

[Lucia Prient]

‘Sending his younger sister as a substitute, huh?’

Though the document in his possession was a copy and not the original, Lucia’s quirky handwriting was unmistakably imprinted.

‘But she wasn’t forced to participate.’

Only three pieces of information were there: name, age, and affiliation. But from the handwriting, Franz could deduce much more. The writing was fluid and uninterrupted.

Tapping the armrest of his chair as if pondering, the Emperor realized a hint of heat rising in his head.

‘Is it embarrassment or anger?’

He wasn’t sure of the emotion engulfing him, but one thing was certain. Both emotions were unfamiliar since he assumed the throne.

“I can’t tell if he’s being clever or just dense.”

The sovereign of the empire, the Emperor, himself had sent a personal letter, and yet there was no participation. Even for the Emperor, such a decision seemed insane if done without any forethought.

But it would stop right there.

Considering his close friend Hugo Prient, forcing a child, who was still wet behind the ears, would have been foolish.

‘Sometimes, the rumors of him being a little out of his mind seem to be true.’

The Emperor suddenly recalled stories he’d heard over the past few months while dining with Victor.

“Chief Steward.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Inquire whether Shiron Prient’s mental state is not intact.”

“Hurry!”

With the appearance of the fog, the tent village became a hubbub.

Merchants packed up their wares, and the camp attendants rolled up their sleeves, cleaning up the tents. Just the day before, it felt like a festival, but now a procession formed, resembling a war evacuation.

And then,

“I’ll say this again: never venture into the fog.”

Johan relayed the precautions for the Subjugation Festival as he adjusted the leather belt. The leather armor, designed to be worn in multiple layers, was twisted to fit the smaller frame of Lucia.

“The key is to focus on the enemy right in front of you. Also, maintain a good distance from the others and choose your spot well.”

“…”

“Because you might get hit by a blind swing, right?”

“Yes.”

In response to Shiron, who answered for the silent Lucia, Johan clenched his eyes.

“It’s not about showing off… I’m saying this because I’ve seen countless people over the years who panic and lose their senses due to the oncoming surge of magical creatures.”

Johan turned his head and stared intently at Shiron.

“Are you alright, young master?”

Concern filled Johan’s eyes as he looked at Shiron. Whether due to the witch’s ambush or the magical ambiance, a feeling of unease began to sprout in his heart.

Shiron just offered a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay. I’ll just pretend to wave my sword around from the back.”

“Well, if you say so.”

With a sigh of relief and a warm smile, Johan patted the backs of the two children. Without needing any more words from Johan, Shiron and Lucia began walking towards the fog.

The air was cold. Their bodies felt heavy.

These sensations were mere illusions caused by the thick magical aura.

Lucia glanced around.

Men in armor surrounded the fog, bearing flags, while inside the battle zone, dozens armed with weapons roamed, each finding their place.

“Hey.”

Lucia, drawing her black steel sword, spoke up. Her mood didn’t seem too good, having been frowning and clenching her mouth tight for a while.

“Be honest now. If you tell me now, I might spare you more than just a pinch.”

She glared at the boy next to her.

“This isn’t a festival, is it?”

“What do you mean? It is a festival, isn’t it?”

Far in the distance, creatures began to emerge from the fog. Shiron gave Lucia a teasing smile.

“I never lied to you.”

As the wave of creatures enveloped them, Shiron disappeared from Lucia’s sight.

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