Lord: I have built a witch's sanctuary.

Chapter 23 Harvest

After the moment of transformation ended, the air was filled with a burnt smell and the sour stench unique to insect sap.

The battlefield was deathly silent.

Anna, holding a wooden stick, carefully rummaged through a pile of still-steaming ashes.

The lava beam she just unleashed was so powerful that she was even worried that it would vaporize the spoils of war.

"Young master! There's a big guy here!"

Anna suddenly exclaimed, like a piglet that had discovered truffles, and pounced on them without caring about the black ash on the ground.

That was the remains of a second-tier elite-level living Snowflake.

Its carapace had been half melted by the high temperature, but the bulging air sac on its abdomen had miraculously survived and was now emitting a dangerous dark red light, like a still-beating heart.

Lorraine walked over and lightly kicked the snow beside her with her toe, covering the still-smoking ground with a soft "hiss".

"Be careful, those are 'explosive airbags,' they'll explode if you move them around."

Lorraine narrowed her eyes, and the "Witch's Codex" in her mind quickly generated item entries.

This thing is extremely unstable; even a slight, violent impact can blow everything within a ten-meter radius upside down.

But in the hands of alchemists, this is a top-grade material for making alchemical bombs.

"Oh!" Anna shrank back in fright, her movements immediately becoming as if she were cradling a newborn baby, barely daring to breathe.

"Don't be afraid. As long as you don't come into contact with open flames or experience any violent impact, you're safe for now."

Lorraine offered a casual reassurance, but her gaze drifted past Anna to the snowdrifts further away.

There, a blinding light shone.

Unlike the cold blue light of magic crystals, it was a fiery dark red, like solidified magma.

Lorraine strode over and reached out to grab it.

It felt heavy in my hand, and a warm sensation instantly spread through my palm. In this freezing weather, it was so comfortable that I wanted to groan.

That was a sword.

A longsword forged entirely from an unknown crimson metal.

The sword wasn't adorned with any fancy gemstones, but it was covered with dark red patterns that pulsated like veins.

With each breath Lorraine took, the patterns flickered in and out of focus, radiating intense heat. The snowflakes falling around them were instantly vaporized into white mist before they even touched the sword.

【Name: Molten Longsword】

[Rank: Tier 2 Rare Item (Superior)]

【Characteristics: Burning (inflicts a high-temperature explosion effect upon impact), Armor Penetration (softens metal armor with high temperature), Unquenchable (the sword itself has a heat source and will never freeze)】

[Note: This is the work of a certain dwarf master in a drunken rage. He felt that ordinary swords were too cold, an insult to passion.]

nice one.

Lorraine raised an eyebrow.

If this thing were put in an auction house, it would easily sell for two or three hundred magic crystals.

But he doesn't lack this weapon.

For a lord who relies on his brains and witches to make a living, asking him to take up a sword and engage in hand-to-hand combat is simply insane.

"Victor."

Lorraine didn't turn her head, but simply called out softly.

Not far away, Victor, who was also cleaning up the corpses, was startled.

The middle-aged knight looked rather disheveled at the moment, his leather armor was covered with scratches, his face was smeared with black ash, and the well-maintained standard iron sword in his hand had been chipped from cutting insects, and he was wiping it with a cloth with heartache.

Upon hearing the lord's summons, he quickly sheathed his sword and jogged over, habitually straightening his back.

"Sir, did you call me?"

Victor's voice was a little hoarse; he had almost ruined his throat from shouting during the battle.

Lorraine turned around and tossed it casually.

"then."

Victor instinctively reached out and caught it.

The next second, his hand trembled violently, and he almost lost his grip.

heat.

A surge of scalding heat flowed from the sword hilt throughout his body, and his previously frozen fingers regained sensation almost instantly.

He lowered his head, looking at the longsword in his hand that was shimmering with a dark red aura, and froze on the spot as if struck by lightning.

As a knight, a down-on-his-luck knight who had struggled in the lower classes and seen the disdain of nobles, he knew all too well what this thing was.

Strange objects.

Moreover, it's a high-level artifact enchanted with fire attributes!

In the Knight Academy of the Royal Capital, only the direct descendants of powerful families are worthy of receiving such a weapon during their coming-of-age ceremony.

For someone like him, who came from a commoner background and earned his knighthood through sheer grit, even if he made great contributions in battle, the reward he would receive was only a few gold coins or a slightly sharper steel sword.

"My lord... this... this is..."

Victor stammered, his tongue seemingly tied in knots.

He wanted to ask, "Is this for me?", but the words stuck in his throat and he couldn't say them.

It's too expensive.

The value of this sword is even ten times that of his worthless life.

"When you were slaying wolves before, I saw that your sword was almost rolled into a saw."

Lorraine dusted off his hands, his tone as casual as if he were handing over a fire poker, "This 'Molten Longsword' just dropped, and I don't need it anyway, so you can take it."

It's not needed.

Take it and use it.

Victor suddenly raised his head and stared intently at Lorraine's young and calm face.

There was no arrogant charity, no pretense to win people's hearts; it was all so natural, as if it weren't some rare treasure at all, but just a slightly softer piece of bread.

"grown ups……"

Victor's hand gripping the sword hilt began to tremble violently, and his eyes instantly reddened.

He thought about how pathetic he had been for the rest of his life.

Despite achieving top marks in equestrian skills, he was disqualified because he couldn't afford a good horse.

Despite having killed the most bandits and enemies on the border, all the credit was stolen by that noble young master who only knew how to hide in the back, because he didn't have a letter of recommendation from a nobleman.

He was an alcoholic, he was depressed, he thought that was all there was to his life, and that he would eventually rot away in some unknown alley behind a tavern.

But today.

He's only been following this lord for two days!

Two days!

This extraordinary sword, which would be a family heirloom in other territories, was simply tossed into his arms.

"What? Too hot to handle?" Lorraine gave him a half-smile.

"No! It's not hot! It's not hot at all!"

Victor shouted incoherently and suddenly knelt down on one knee.

He held the molten longsword in both hands, raising it high above his head, his voice choked with emotion yet revealing an unprecedented resolve:

"Victor Bray, I swear in the name of knighthood!"

"With this sword in hand, I will surely cut through all thorns for you! If anyone dares to harm you in the slightest, they must first step over my dead body!"

At this moment, on this desolate snowfield battlefield, a down-on-his-luck middle-aged drunkard finally rediscovered the backbone he had lost for many years.

Lorraine watched this scene and nodded to herself.

Trading a sword for a loyal follower of a level two knight—that's a steal!

"Alright, stop kneeling, the ground is cold."

Lorraine waved his hand, turned and walked towards the mountain of spoils. "Get to work, get all the magic crystals out. Our construction has only just begun, don't make it sound like you're giving your last words."

Victor vigorously wiped his face and loudly replied, "Yes, sir!"

He stood up, gripping the scorching hot sword tightly in his hand, and stared at Lorraine's retreating figure with a fanatical gaze.

He recalled the watchtowers that had sprung up in the camp in the past two days, the steel monster that spewed black smoke and crashed around, and the white bone wall that had grown out of nowhere.

This construction speed...

He made a silent comparison in his mind.

When Frostwolf City expanded its outer walls, even with funding from the kingdom, hundreds of craftsmen, and a team of formal alchemists assisting, the progress was as slow as a snail's pace, taking three years to complete with frequent repairs and interruptions.

But what about here?

Two days.

In just two days, this place was transformed from a dilapidated, abandoned outpost into a heavily fortified war fortress.

Even though this young lord has been exiled by his family, the power and resources he wields are far beyond what those incompetent noble lords can match.

"Following a lord like this..."

Victor excitedly swung his molten longsword, the blade slicing through the air and leaving a crimson afterimage.

"The future is very promising!"