Chapter 321: Field Testing Of Spells

Roderick raised his hand, completely cutting the man off. "You don’t have to say anything more."

He looked incredibly frustrated. The veins in his neck bulged as he suddenly pivoted and punched the stone wall right beside him.

"Holy Mother of God!" Roderick cursed loudly. "This man is infuriatingly unpredictable!"

He grabbed his hair and paced across the bloody floor.

"With just one thousand men, what the hell am I supposed to do?! It would have been okay if he was at least fighting the damn war, but if he isn’t even doing that, then this entire ritual is a failure! I’ve already set up the strict conditions, and the time is already ticking!"

Roderick spun around and glared at the two men.

"We need to move soon. We must go and force him to fight. If we don’t, everything I’ve planned will be for naught! Gather your things and get your men ready. I’ll go meet my stupid brother. A little bit of poking around, and he’ll waddle his fat ass over to the war site and involve himself directly. I won’t even have to do much."

Back at the military camp, Adrian watched the tired soldiers eagerly stuff food into their mouths.

The total number of soldiers in the camp had obviously gone way down compared to yesterday. But surprisingly, he actually felt a thousand times better today. Instead of making two massive iron pots of food, he had decided to make three. And that simple decision had completely changed the level of satisfaction among the men.

This was their lunch, and they were eating right after going through absolute hell.

Most of them were incredibly unsatisfied about the grueling physical training they had been forced into all morning, but the hot, delicious food quickly shut them up.

Adrian obviously had his own hidden plans here.

It wasn’t exactly a logical move to make these soldiers train until they threw up right before an actual battle. Most of these guys weren’t even trained men. Half of the armies from the minor nobles were literally just random commoners who had been immediately drafted and marched out to the front lines with a spear shoved into their hands.

Adrian’s goal wasn’t to magically train them into elite knights in three days. That was impossible.

His goal was simply to stall for time.

If these untrained men were pushed to their brink doing intense burpees, sprints, and heavy lifting, then they would obviously sustain heavy muscle cramps, torn ligaments, and extreme exhaustion. This would give them a massive, undeniable excuse to just sit back and avoid the actual fighting when the war started.

The only issue was that Adrian couldn’t completely tire out the actual veteran soldiers. The seasoned guys knew exactly how to pace themselves and conserve their stamina even during the toughest training regimens.

But that wasn’t really a huge issue. All he could do was just hope they didn’t die in the war.

Even though they weren’t his soldiers, they were still regular people with families. He didn’t want their blood on his hands, be it directly or indirectly. His main goal right now was just trying to make sure that most of the innocent soldiers didn’t succumb to a death just because one greedy lord wanted to throw them into a meat grinder for pleasing the emperor.

But of course, the noble lords did not agree with him at all.

They wanted fame. They wanted royal recognition. But they absolutely refused to jump into the front lines themselves. They just wanted to sit in their safe command tents and watch their peasant soldiers die for them so they could reap the rewards.

Adrian was not going to let that happen.

If it was someone like Draven who actually grabbed a sword and jumped into the brutal front lines alongside his men, then sure, he respected that. But the others were totally different.

Adrian let out a soft sigh as he looked off into the distance, staring in the direction of his ex-wife’s territory. The distant stone walls of the captured city were pretty high. He could vaguely see the silhouettes of Avarice soldiers patrolling the battlements.

Adrian looked down at his own hands.

"I guess it’s time to test out the spells I’ve been training," he muttered to himself. "Need to see how effective they can actually be, and check their mana efficiency and pure firepower."

But the fortress wall was a bit too far away. His current range obviously wouldn’t reach that far with standard spells.

He had to wait.

He had to wait until nightfall so he could sneak up a little bit closer before doing his thing. He turned around and walked back to his tent to get some rest.

He didn’t have to wait too long.

Night soon fell over the camp. This time, the exhausted soldiers didn’t stay up drinking or gossiping around the bonfires. They just ate their dinner and immediately passed out in their tents because their bodies were completely spent.

Surprisingly, Count Frankenstein had actually taken Adrian’s side during the afternoon strategy meeting. He had managed to push back against the other nobles who were complaining about the forced training.

Frankenstein’s argument was simple: If Adrian’s army was so incredibly strong, then the man clearly knew what he was doing. Maybe if they copied him, their own armies would become strong too.

This simple, braindead logic was actually enough to convince the nobles for a while.

But Adrian knew it wouldn’t last too long. The moment the battle horns blew, they would want their soldiers marching. But he would take whatever extra time he could get.

He stepped out of his tent and looked up at the dark, cloudy sky and the sliver of the crescent moon.

He turned around.

A small, elite team was standing right behind him, ready to go out and watch him test his spells. Or, in other words, they were just there to make sure he didn’t accidentally blow himself up or get assasssinated by the enemies.