Chapter 138: Forging a Legion

Malrik advanced with steady steps across the training grounds, leaving Instructor Kael and Ronan’s squad behind as he headed directly toward the corner where Orren was training.

With every step he took, the sound of the air tearing became clearer.

The greatsword Orren wielded looked incredibly heavy, heavy enough to shatter a shield with a single blow, yet he swung it with absolute fluidity, as if it were a feather.

Malrik stopped a few steps away.

Sensing his presence, Orren slowly halted his training. He rested his greatsword on the ground with a muffled thud, turned toward Malrik, and offered a slight, respectful bow with one hand over his chest.

"Seventh Banner Bearer," Orren said in a calm, composed voice.

"Orren," Malrik nodded. "I’ve heard a lot about you from Instructor Kael."

Orren remained calm. "I hope he didn’t exaggerate his praise."

Malrik smiled faintly. "I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I am now the Baron of Dreadmoor, and I came here today to establish my new legion... and I want you to be the first Ascendant-rank fighter to join me."

Orren’s expression did not change. No arrogance or disdain appeared in his blue eyes; instead, he looked at Malrik with genuine respect.

"It is a great honor to be personally requested by you, my lord. Dreadmoor is a harsh proving ground, and there is no doubt your leadership will bring it glory..."

Orren paused briefly, then added with polite firmness, "But with all due respect, I have pledged my sword to serve only the Duke and the High Elders. Therefore, I hope you will forgive my refusal."

Malrik was not surprised.

On the contrary, his smile widened slightly. This polite and rigid response was exactly what proved the man’s loyalty and discipline, only increasing Malrik’s desire to recruit him.

"Yes, I expected that. Instructor Kael told me you offered the exact same polite refusal to my siblings before," Malrik said, comfortably slipping his hands into his pockets. "He also told me how they tried to change your mind."

Orren raised his gaze, a hint of quiet anticipation appearing in his eyes.

Malrik took a step forward, a clear glint of challenge flashing in his eyes. He raised his voice slightly, letting his words carry across the quiet corner and into the wider training grounds.

"Therefore, I challenge you to a duel, just as my siblings did. If you lose... you will gather your gear, along with your squad, and follow me to Dreadmoor!"

His confident tone was enough to draw attention. The nearest drill captains turned toward the source of the sound, and the movement of swords in the adjacent rings ceased one after another.

Like a silent contagion, training halted across that side of the training grounds and hundreds of eyes turned toward Malrik and Orren.

A few faint gasps arose, and whispers quickly began to spread across the training grounds.

"Who is that?" an infantryman whispered to his comrade.

"That’s the Seventh Young Master... I mean, the new Seventh Banner Bearer," the other replied, his eyes wide. "Is he really trying to recruit Orren?"

Amidst these murmurs, Orren looked at Malrik calmly. He remained unfazed by the crowd that had begun forming a wide circle around them. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his greatsword and nodded slowly.

"As you command, Banner Bearer," Orren said in his composed voice. "I accept the challenge."

Training across almost the entire courtyard came to a halt, as hundreds of knights and soldiers scrambled to form a massive human ring around the dueling area.

Malrik swept his gaze over the crowd, a faint, confident smile forming on his lips.

He turned calmly and walked toward the nearby weapon racks. He ran his fingers over several sharp steel spears before drawing a well-balanced one. He weighed it in his hand, testing its balance with a swift motion.

I suppose I should ask the dwarven blacksmiths to forge a good spear for me as well.

Malrik had lost the spear Alex gifted him after his awakening ceremony, and he could no longer use the scythe publicly. The scythe was now linked to the identity of the Black Reaper.

"This will do," Malrik muttered to himself as he tightened his grip on the spear. "But I need some preparation first."

In the next moment, a transparent blue screen appeared before him—his primary status screen, not the golden one for achievements.

[ Name: Malrik Vesperion ]

[ Rank: Awakened ]

[ Level: 49 ]

[ Class: Soul Binder ]

[ Class Rank: Epic ★ ]

[ Talent: Infinite Evolution (SSS) ]

[ Strength: 337 (8↑) ]

[ Agility: 248 (8↑) ]

[ Constitution: 242 (8↑) ]

[ Intelligence: 490 (8↑) ]

[ Free Attribute Points: 130 ]

[ Soul Contracts: 224 / 250 ]

[ Skills: Gravity Field, Heavy Domain, Gravity Crush, Shadow Ambush, Shadow Clone, Tyrant’s Command, Shadow Step ]

[ Class Skills: Death Bullet, Soul Resurrection, Soul Storage, Soul Calling, Corpse Explosion, Soul Rend ]

His eyes immediately stopped at his level.

Level 49.

Damn it, leveling up is becoming a living hell day by day.

I am only one step away from Level 50.

The last time he checked his status screen, he was at Level 41, right after killing Biggie. Since then, despite killing two Fallen-rank beings alongside countless other monsters, he had only gained eight levels.

Sharing experience points with his soul army was a harsh tax, frustratingly slowing down his personal progression.

His eyes then shifted to the line showing his free attribute points. 130 free attribute points.

It was a massive number, and Malrik had deliberately hoarded them to use as a trump card in a life-or-death situation. However, he now realized he no longer had the luxury of saving them. If he was going to face a seasoned Ascendant-rank fighter, he needed to be at the peak of his readiness.

I won’t dump most of the points into Strength like I did last time.

Now I have Fallen-rank souls with Rare potential, and manifesting them drained nearly all of my mana in the last battle.

This issue hadn’t been obvious to Malrik before, thanks to his enormous mana reserves.

However, souls like Biggie, Lady Mushroom, and Winter were merely Fallen-rank souls with Rare potential, meaning they constantly consumed Malrik’s mana to maintain their physical forms.

This was in stark contrast to Epic-tier souls like Lilith and Lokris, who could maintain their physical forms without relying on his mana.

Alright, let’s do this.

50 into Intelligence, 30 into Strength, 25 into Agility, and 25 into Constitution.

The moment Malrik confirmed the point distribution, an immediate wave of change hit him, and he felt that familiar sensation of his attributes rapidly surging.

He took a deep breath to calm his body as it adapted to the new power, then focused on his final step.

A small, dark summoning circle materialized, but not on the ground in front of him... rather, it appeared on his back, completely hidden beneath the fabric of his clothes.

A black gelatinous substance emerged from the circle and slowly crawled over his body. Through the direct soul link in his mind a familiar enthusiastic voice echoed.

[ My Kiiiing! ]

Malrik smiled faintly as he sensed Lokris’s excitement at being summoned.

[ It is great to hear your voice again, Lokris. Now... activate Black Shroud. ]

Upon receiving the command, the black gelatinous substance crawling down his arm shrank and rapidly condensed around his wrist, transforming into a simple solid-looking black bracelet. At that exact moment, Malrik was washed over by the familiar comforting sensation of his physical attributes multiplying.

[ Strength: 734 (*2) ]

[ Agility: 546 (*2) ]

[ Constitution: 534 (*2) ]

[ Intelligence: 1080 (*2) ]

Malrik’s eyes widened slightly when his gaze landed on the final number.

His Intelligence had finally broken the one thousand threshold.

The number was completely illogical for someone at the Awakened rank. In fact, this level of Intelligence was approaching the tier of Ascendant-rank mages.

Those were not his original base stats, but rather the result of Lokris’s influence. However, Malrik didn’t care much. Lokris was a part of his power, and whatever he granted him was still part of his own strength.

"Excellent... let’s begin."