Beyond the Apocalypse
Chapter 553: Becoming a Baron (II)

Chapter 553: Becoming a Baron (II)

Jormungandr nodded, and in the next instant, he waved his small paw, producing from his space ring the dismembered remains of a three-headed minotaur. The moment everyone caught sight of this gruesome corpse, their eyes narrowed in unison, immediately recognizing that it belonged to a Voroe Sage. Even if its aura was now absent, the remnants still exuded a kind of ominous energy that only powerful creatures possessed.

"We crossed paths with this Voroe not long after arriving in this Doomsday World," Vlad explained. "His name was Olivion. Once we defeated him, Jormungandr used his abilities to read Olivion’s soul. That’s how we learned about the ambush—and why we headed straight to the battlefield."

Vlad did not mince words. He laid out the facts without hesitation, moving quickly through the explanation so as not to invite confusion or doubt. Finally, he ended with a statement that carried a distinct weight. "By the way," he added calmly, "he was also supposed to be part of the ambush on the Solaris caravan."

A rush of surprise flickered across the onlookers’ faces. Seeing the corpse of a Voroe Sage was striking in its own right, especially when paired with the revelation that Jormungandr, a small yellow cat, could peer into souls. Yet it was Vlad’s final comment that rattled them the most. Two Voroe Sages cooperating on a single ambush was alarming enough, but the revelation that there had apparently been three of them involved indicated a far more orchestrated operation. Something bigger was at stake.

Even Agamenon and Zalasar, who had already gone through a life-threatening encounter involving two of these fearsome enemies, exchanged solemn glances. The caravan’s real objective had been meant to remain confidential, yet clearly, it had not been kept secret as effectively as they had hoped. The fact that the Chaovoratities Plane had sent only three Sages instead of a Legend suggested that their enemies had only partial information.

Marshal Maximo frowned, his mind evidently churning with possibilities. There was unquestionably a leak somewhere—someone passing along pieces of information that should never have seen the light of day. That was a danger not only to the caravan but also to the Golden Sky Fortress and the broader Graecia Empire. If one threat had already surfaced, there was a strong chance that more trouble lay on the horizon.

"Were you able to find anything else useful from the memories of that Voroe Sage?" Maximo asked at last. His voice had gone solemn, and the entire throne room seemed to absorb his tone. He focused on Jormungandr, clearly hoping that perhaps the small cat had gleaned an image, a conversation, or even a glimpse of some traitorous figure—anything that might simplify the hunt for the leak.

Unfortunately, Jormungandr shook his head with a regretful flick of his tail. "His soul was very powerful," he replied. "I couldn’t extract any more military secrets beyond the details about the ambush itself."

Maximo let out a quiet sigh and nodded. His disappointment was visible but not tinged with real surprise. Soul-reading, especially when the target was stronger or close to your own level, was a highly precarious skill. The more powerful the mind, the more challenging it became to access its memories.

"That is unfortunate but not unexpected," he remarked.

With that admission, the Marshal’s attention returned to Vlad and his companions. A pensive gleam shone in his eyes for a few seconds as though he were weighing their words or, perhaps, considering how to reward them for their deeds. His mind was clearly turning over multiple possibilities.

"You and your group have done well," he declared. His tone reflected genuine appreciation. "Not only did you kill a Voroe Sage by yourselves and help the Solaris caravan overcome a perilous ambush, but you also brought us vital intelligence. That information confirms there’s a serious gap in our security network. For these contributions, I will grant the four of you the title of Barons of the Graecia Empire."

When hearing those words, Vlad, Jormungandr, Ouroboros, and Fafnir all broke into broad smiles. Titles of nobility came with numerous benefits—access to resources, information, and privileges that ordinary individuals could scarcely imagine. Many people toiled their entire lives without ever earning so much as a minor title; for these four newcomers to the Doomsday World, achieving such status in less than a month was almost too good to be true. At least, that was what they believed, right up until a new voice echoed through the hall.

"That is too hasty," the unseen speaker said.

Vlad’s reaction was immediate: he frowned, searching for the origin of those words. His gaze settled on a shadowy figure emerging from behind Marshal Maximo’s throne.

The figure proved to be an old man, his face etched with deep wrinkles and his body wrapped in a simple gray robe. He wore no ornate armor or jewelry; indeed, the aura of death emanating from him suggested his lifespan was close to its end. Nevertheless, his eyes shone with a penetrating light, conveying that the threat of his own mortality carried no weight in his mind.

The old man caught sight of Vlad’s frown but seemed indifferent to it. His expression remained impassive as he spoke in a serious, analytical voice. "Young man, in the Graecia Empire, we distinguish between Killing Merits and Virtuous Merits. Killing Merits are granted upon harming the Empire’s enemies. In that regard, you have clearly surpassed the quota for a baronial title by slaying the Voroe Sage and thwarting the ambush."

He paused, ensuring everyone in the room understood his point, then continued. "Virtuous Merits, on the other hand, refer to aiding the Empire and its people in ways that promote growth, stability, and safety. Helping Agamenon’s group and verifying our suspicions about a leak in our intelligence network have certainly earned you a measure of Virtuous Merits. Still, it’s not quite enough to justify the rank of Baron."

Vlad felt the tension in his face ease. The old man’s objection was not fueled by malice or some hidden agenda but rather by a dedication to the Empire’s laws and traditions. Judging from his analytical demeanor, he was simply holding everyone to the same rigid standard—a standard that helped maintain order in a realm where chaos was common.

"Killing Merits and Virtuous Merits..." Vlad reflected silently. "That’s an ingenious way to handle rewards and responsibilities."

He noticed Marshal Maximo exhaling softly, then nodding to the old man, acknowledging the validity of his argument. Evidently, Maximo had initially intended to grant the baronial title based on the group’s impressive war contributions, but the old man’s reminder of the Empire’s regulations made it clear that an immediate barony might violate some critical rule. Before Maximo could propose an alternative reward, however, Vlad interjected.

"What if I heal the wounds in the Marshal’s arm?" he asked, voice clear and confident.