Chapter 159
“The seventh Eastern Subjugation Operation report, Your Majesty.”
The setting was the royal palace of the Magentano Kingdom—
a grand and lavish conference hall, hidden deep within its most secure chambers.
Minister of War, Sir Elcamo, was reading through the report with a sharp gaze.
“Following the previous six operations, in which we annihilated the main force of monsters that ravaged the eastern provinces, this seventh campaign focused on clearing out the remnants in those same areas.”
“And the results?”
“We’ve successfully eliminated the remaining monster stragglers around Sortino and Adrano territories. In the process, we discovered three monster nests established along the border near the Basto Territory.”
“Were there any unexpected skirmishes?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Our casualties?”
“The 20th Infantry Regiment suffered seventy-seven dead and one hundred eighty-two wounded. The attached Ranger Special Forces reported sixteen injuries.”
“Quite a number.”
“My apologies, Your Majesty.”
The Minister of War bowed his head.
Queen Alicia Termina Magentano, seated at the head of the table, waved a hand gently.
“It was not your mistake, Sir Elcamo. Do not dwell on it. See to it that the wounded are properly tended to and replacements are dispatched. Ensure that logistics and supplies remain steady.”
“By your command, Your Majesty.”
The Minister sat, and the Queen let out a quiet sigh.
‘Damn these monsters.’
The Monster Domino that had swept through the eastern region still hadn’t fully ended.
No new hordes were coming, true—but the damage was still accumulating.
The monsters that had crossed the Eastern Mountains and destroyed human settlements hadn’t politely returned to their homeland afterward.
Instead, they had settled amidst the ruins.
‘And I can’t just leave them there.’
That was why the massive subjugation campaigns had continued—now up to the seventh.
But even that wasn’t enough to completely end the threat.
Queen Alicia furrowed her brow and turned to the Minister of the Interior.
“Next report.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
He rose and began detailing the recovery progress in the eastern provinces—
the ongoing reconstruction efforts, material support being sent to the Frontera County, and various related affairs.
Then came the Minister of Foreign Affairs.
His tone grew slightly heated as he discussed the Sultanate to the east.
They still refused to acknowledge their part in the Monster Domino incident, calling it an “unfortunate natural disaster.”
As he spoke, Queen Alicia’s expression hardened.
‘That insolent Sultan…’
Should she exercise force?
No. Perhaps she should give them one last diplomatic chance first.
She decided to send a royal envoy to the Sultanate soon—to demand accountability and reparations.
At that thought, one man’s name crossed her mind.
‘Lloyd Frontera.’
What if she assigned that audacious man to the envoy delegation?
It might actually work out well.
His sly tongue could prove invaluable in negotiation.
And, on top of that, sending him would make sense politically—
after all, House Frontera had been one of the regions most directly affected by the Monster Domino.
‘Not a bad idea. I’ll consider it seriously.’
While that thought lingered in her mind, the other ministers continued their reports.
The Queen presided over the royal council for the rest of the day.
And at its close, as she dismissed her officials, a small question rose within her.
Something trivial, yet nagging.
She called out to the departing Minister of the Interior.
“There is something I wish to ask you.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
He bowed respectfully.
“The Noble Assembly falls under your ministry’s jurisdiction, does it not?”
“That is correct, Your Majesty.”
“I heard that a large number of marriage proposals were recently sent to House Frontera through the Assembly. Do you know the outcome?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Count Frontera’s replies arrived just yesterday. The Assembly has since forwarded them to each respective house.”
“I see.”
Replies to the proposals, then.
‘Lloyd Frontera… I wonder which noble house that cunning man chose to align with.’
It would be ideal if he chose a family that could aid in the eastern reconstruction.
That would strengthen the foundation of his domain—and, by extension, her own defenses on the eastern front.
With that thought, Queen Alicia found herself feeling a faint mix of curiosity and amusement.
♣
A few more days passed.
During that time, work on the sludge treatment plant entered its final phase.
The structure itself resembled a massive bucket buried deep in the ground.
A sturdy concrete base formed the foundation,
and atop it sat an enormous granite shell—
a single fifty-meter-wide block carved hollow to form the core of the gravity thickening tank.
It had taken Javier four grueling days to carve it, his sword brimming with aura and quiet fury at the forced labor.
It was, in every sense, a masterpiece of pain and precision.
Then came the problem of moving it.
That was Bibeong’s job.
“Bibibeng! Bibibeng!”
With everyone cheering him on, Bibeong’s three-thousand-ton rear end wobbled determinedly.
It wasn’t easy.
Even hollowed out, the fifty-meter stone was half Bibeong’s body length.
In human terms, it was like carrying a gigantic millstone alone across several hundred meters.
“Bibibeng…!”
Sweat poured from his soles, but he didn’t give up.
He didn’t even complain.
The reason was simple.
Bangul was watching.
“Bibibeng!”
A true man never shows weakness in front of his first love.
Even if his back is about to snap,
even if he’s gasping for breath,
even if his legs are trembling—
he must look cool no matter what.
That was Bibeong’s creed as a man in love.
“Bibibibibeng!”
He clenched his front teeth tight and forced the colossal stone into place.
KUUUUNG!
The earth rumbled as the granite tank slid perfectly into its foundation.
The sludge treatment plant was complete.
But that didn’t mean the Great Sewer Project was over.
‘Sludge treatment needs lots of water.’
Just like a flush toilet, there had to be a constant water flow.
That’s what carried the waste smoothly into the treatment plant.
Without it, all the filth would dry up and clog the pipes.
Then the waste would back up.
Then it would pile higher.
Then eventually—
‘…Let’s not visualize that.’
Lloyd quickly shut down that revolting mental image.
Anyway, starting that day, they began laying the water supply line.
Over the next five days, pipes were installed from the Frona River to the central village’s drainage shaft, diverting part of the river’s flow into the Great Sewer.
At last, the first section of the Great Sewer was operational.
That day, Lloyd gathered the villagers.
“All right, everyone knows why we’re here today, right?”
The scorching afternoon sun shone over three hundred gathered residents,
each holding a heavy bucket.
And inside those buckets…
“You all collected what I asked for?”
Nods all around.
Every one of them wore a towel or rag over their nose and mouth like a mask.
For good reason.
Their buckets were full of several days’ worth of… waste.
Lloyd pinched his nose tightly.
“Good. Judging by the smell, you all worked hard. If this experiment succeeds today, you won’t have to keep storing this stuff anymore. Just dump it straight into the drainage shaft whenever you need to. Got it?”
Nod, nod, nod!
Their nods grew faster—desperate, even.
The summer heat was sweltering.
The “samples” they’d been saving for days had long since… ripened.
They were now exuding a biological and chemical weapon-grade stench.
Everyone silently prayed.
Lord Lloyd, please. Don’t give a speech. Please don’t.
And Lloyd, ever merciful, honored their prayer.
“Gods, that smell… All right, nobody wants a speech, right? Line up. Dump your stuff one by one—carefully, no splashing, got it?”
Shuffle!
No one spoke. They just moved.
Three hundred villagers, working like clockwork, emptied their buckets into the massive drainage shaft.
Then Lloyd climbed down the manhole himself—Javier following behind.
“……Is there a reason you had to come down here personally, my lord?”
“Of course.”
Lloyd shrugged.
“I need to see firsthand if the waste flows properly through the sewer. Otherwise, it’ll be chaos later.”
He was right.
You couldn’t just assume the sewer worked fine once it was built.
You had to test the flow—see if anything was clogging the way.
“If part of it clogs, you won’t notice right away. A few days later, you’ll start getting bad smells, maybe even a backup. By then? It’s too late. You’ll spend ten times the effort trying to fix it.”
So down he came—to see for himself.
Three hundred people’s worth of waste now flowed through the tunnel,
and he wanted to make sure it reached the sludge treatment plant properly.
Despite his calm tone, Javier’s expression didn’t relax.
“And what’s the reason I had to come along?”
“Well…”
Lloyd grinned.
“It wouldn’t be fair if I had to suffer alone.”
“……”
“Here, take this. Cover your mouth and nose before you puke. Though even if you do, at least it’ll flow with the rest of it.”
He chuckled as he handed Javier a handkerchief.
Lloyd himself already had two layers of cloth tied tightly over his face.
Even so, breathing was painful.
‘This is insane.’
The air was heavy and foul in the narrow underground channel.
A single person could barely walk beside the flow of murky liquid.
Rotting waste floated downstream in the sluggish current.
The smell alone was enough to make a grown man cry.
And the lack of ventilation only made it worse.
To make matters worse, Lloyd’s heightened senses as a mid-level Sword Expert made everything more unbearable.
His improved sensitivity amplified the suffering.
‘I’m going to die. I swear, if I could delete my sense of smell, I would. Or just reset my Mana Heart skill altogether. Forget being an Expert—just take it back!’
Even through the cloth, it was unbearable.
It reminded him of gas chamber drills from his army days—
being forced to sing the national anthem after removing the gas mask in a room full of tear gas.
So Lloyd made a solemn vow.
‘If I ever reach Sword Expert high-rank, I’ll never go higher.’
Even without this experience, he’d already planned to stop there—
because of the infamous “Swordmaster Syndrome.”
‘Javier used to struggle with insomnia because of that.’
A Swordmaster’s senses became so sharp they exceeded human limits.
They couldn’t even tune them out.
They’d hear every falling pin, every breath, every whisper—twenty-four hours a day.
Their sense of smell, touch, and sight grew unbearably sensitive.
‘You could see the pores on someone’s face from meters away.’
Which meant… had Javier been seeing his pores this whole time?
A chill ran down his spine.
He shook his head violently and looked back at Javier.
“Not gonna take this?”
Javier hadn’t accepted the handkerchief yet.
His expression was calm—too calm.
Why?
Before Lloyd could ask, Javier spoke.
“I’m fine.”
“Fine? Seriously?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, a faint smile on his lips.
“I cut off my sense of smell as soon as we came in.”
“…You cut it off? On purpose?”
“Yes.”
“Is that even possible?”
“Yes. I’m a Swordmaster.”
“So you’re saying… you can’t smell any of this right now?”
“Correct.”
“……”
“In fact, if I wished, I could adjust my senses so that the air here smelled like flowers.”
“Must be nice.”
“Thank you.”
“……”
For a moment, Lloyd genuinely wanted to cry.
And so, with his happiness plummeting to subterranean levels,
he trudged through the tunnel beside Javier.
Through the Cholera Canal, as he jokingly called it—
the long, winding artery of the Great Sewer.
Side by side with three hundred people’s worth of waste,
he followed it all the way to the sludge treatment plant,
observing and inspecting as he went.
The results were perfect.
‘Beautiful. Flushing smoother than a freshly unclogged toilet.’
From that day onward, Lloyd delegated further sewer expansion to Sir Bayern.
He ordered new drainage shafts built in every village, in the hive-shaped residential complex, and even in the Frontera manor itself.
‘Each drainage shaft collects waste, which then flows into the Great Sewer, and from there into the sludge treatment plant.’
That was the core of his sewer system.
As weeks passed, one section after another was completed.
Day by day, the central village residents made full use of it.
Waste flowed, sludge thickened, and the plant filled steadily.
And finally, after one full month—
Fwoooosh!
North of the estate, the Red Dragon Solitas unleashed his fiery breath.
He lifted the great wooden lid of the sludge plant, magically raised the congealed sludge into the air—and exhaled hellfire upon it.
…!
The collective “output” of three hundred residents over a month’s time was engulfed in tens of thousands of degrees of flame.
It didn’t even have time to stink.
It burned.
It turned to ash in an instant.
And right then, messages appeared before Lloyd’s eyes.
Ding-dong!
[Through your foresight, precise engineering, and aid from the strongest race on the continent, you have successfully implemented the first public sewage system in Lorasia’s history.]
[Your Great Sewer System has introduced the concept of “public sanitation” to the continent for the very first time.]
[This remarkable achievement will be remembered by generations to come.]
[A new title has been bestowed upon you, filled with the sweat, tears, and curses of future civil and sanitation engineers.]
[New Title Acquired: <Red Paper or Blue Paper?>]