30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?!

Thunk...

"......."

A small black pup, its appearance reminiscent of a newborn husky, accidentally let go of the hourglass it had been carrying in its mouth.

The hourglass, filled not with sand but with fine gemstone dust, was clearly an artifact of significant worth. And yet, there it lay, rolling across the ground in a pitiful fashion.

But the pup—no, the high-tier monster Ortos, a two-headed beast with a serpent’s tail—couldn’t even bring itself to care about that.

Its mouth remained gaping open, frozen in shock.

Despite being a monster, Ortos was intelligent—far more so than the average creature of its kind. It was capable of expressing a wide range of emotions, which was why, at this moment—

"W-Woof."

Tremble!

—its entire body shuddered in sheer terror, as if it had just pissed itself.

Because—

Drip, drip...

Right before its very eyes was a mountain made from the corpses of 30,000 monsters.

And that wasn’t even the most terrifying part.

Sure, 30,000 was a staggering number in itself.

But what made this truly horrifying...

...was the fact that not a single one of those monsters had been weaker than Ortos.

The weakest among them were on par with a fully grown Ortos.

And among the 30,000, only 10,000 at most had been its equals.

The remaining 20,000 had all been stronger than it—either in sheer power or in intelligence.

And yet, they had all been slaughtered, reduced to mere decorations in this grotesque display of carnage.

Was it any wonder Ortos was on the verge of fainting?

But what truly paralyzed it with fear was—

Tap, tap.

"-You really are quite smart. And a good guide too."

"......."

"Hm? What are you staring at so much?"

"Kehh..."

"Oh, that? That wasn’t intentional. It just sort of... piled up while I was cleaning. Anyway, dealing with 30,000 of them was a pain in the ass, tsk."

—the fact that this mountain of corpses had been made by a single human.

"......."

Ortos stared at the male human—if he could even be called that.

It was only now truly realizing that this thing had been looking directly at it all along.

And in its dazed state, it instinctively accepted the hourglass as the human handed it back, much like a dog accepting a bone.

"Hold on to that. I only lent it to you, remember."

"......."

"You should answer when spoken to."

"Woof!!"

"That’s the spirit. Answer with confidence."

And so, Ortos was thoroughly petted like a mere dog.

A humiliating experience, to be sure.

But it made no move to resist.

Because it knew—

"...Woof."

—if it resisted, it would become part of that mountain too.

* * *

Though Ihan had maintained a relaxed front while dealing with the pup, inwardly, he was... slightly taken aback.

It had been a long time since he had been this confused.

No, what the hell?

"Why are there so many people here...?"

The numbers were strange.

He had expected maybe ten people to show up.

But here they were—over 400 of them.

While he had sensed some familiar presences upon their arrival, he hadn’t known exactly how many reinforcements had come.

Now that he was seeing them in full...

He could only blink repeatedly in disbelief.

What the hell had happened?

'...All I said was to come if they were free.'

Two days ago, before entering Bithung, he had sent out five letters.

To the five people he knew—people he considered at least somewhat reliable.

But he hadn’t explained anything about Mordred’s situation.

He hadn’t even written the reason for his request.

All he had written was—

[If you’re free, come help.]

That was it.

That was the entire message.

Some might scold him for sending something so half-assed, but he had calculated that it wouldn’t matter.

After all, the people he had written to...

They all owed him something.

And even if the letter had been vague, he knew they wouldn’t ignore it.

'It would have been too much to handle alone.'

Ihan understood something better than anyone—

No matter how strong an individual was, there were things that simply couldn’t be done alone.

Blindly charging in by oneself was not bravery.

It was recklessness, arrogance, and childish stubbornness.

Unlike some naive knights, Ihan never mistook courage for foolhardiness.

For that reason, calling for reinforcements was nothing more than common sense to him.

But what did surprise him—

Was that so many had responded within just two days.

And then—

"...Why the hell is that old lady here?"

Crown Princess Isis.

The next successor to the Pendragon royal family, clad in a dignified military uniform, was personally overseeing the battlefield.

For Ihan, this was insane.

Was she out of her mind?

Did she even understand where she was?

Unless—

"Has she already gone senile?"

-[...You impudent wretch. Is there nothing you won’t say?]

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

"It’s not impudence—it’s a valid question. What the hell is she doing here?"

-[...You don’t seem very surprised.]

"At this point, even if you transformed into something ridiculous, I don’t think I’d be surprised anymore."

-[.......]

Even when a talking mole suddenly emerged from the ground, Ihan merely accepted it as normal.

It wasn’t hostile, and something about its presence felt oddly familiar. He had a suspicion, and as expected—

“Is it a familiar or something?”

-[It is a golem. I simply shaped it in the form of an animal.]

“You really come up with all sorts of strange things, huh?”

-[When you... process people—no, when you put in enough effort, such results are inevitable.]

“......”

Her words momentarily left him speechless, but Ihan quickly let out a sigh.

Whether it was a golem made from people or not, that wasn’t the issue at hand.

“So why did you really come? I only needed my classmate and one junior. That’s it.”

Why had she come personally? And # Nоvеlight # why had she brought along the White Cats?

They had no chance of surviving in this battlefield.

-[This is still the Crown Princess's procession, is it not? Bringing military forces is only natural. And even if they are only knights in name, they can still serve their purpose as a supply unit.]

“......”

-[And as for why I came in person... Do you really not know?]

“?”

-[Did you not request ‘help’?]

“So what?”

Was it really that big of a deal for someone to ask for help?

Ihan tilted his head, completely missing her point.

Meanwhile, it was Isis’s turn to be dumbfounded.

-[They say the hardest thing is knowing yourself. How perfectly fitting.]

"??"

* * *

Was it a coincidence?

Or had they all been thinking the exact same thing?

Regardless, when Isis and the other five recipients of Ihan’s letters had received his request for help—

They had all been thrown into utter shock.

-"That brute is asking for help?"

-"A sign of the apocalypse...."

Even Galahad’s Champion, whose expression had never cracked before, had been visibly startled, staring at the letter in disbelief.

Even Lionel’s Grand Warlord, who treated everything as a joke, had, for once, lost his usual smirk.

That was how serious Ihan’s request was.

Because—

Ihan had never once asked anyone for a favor.

No matter how dire the situation.

Who was he?

A man who had helped numerous high nobles, yet never once asked for a single coin in return.

No matter what crisis arose, he had always handled it himself.

He had never requested assistance.

And those who had fought alongside him, those who had exchanged blows with him, understood just how unnatural it was for Ihan to reach out for help.

It was practically a forewarning of disaster—a signal that the crisis at hand was beyond what even he could handle alone.

So—

-“Your Highness, I must take my leave.”

-“Brother, I’ll be stepping out for a bit.”

Reasons? Justifications?

They didn’t need any.

They followed their hearts and headed straight for Mordred without hesitation.

And their kings’ reactions?

-“Wait.”

-“Your Highness?”

-“Take the knights with you.”

-“...Your Highness?!”

Just like that, Galahad’s Sentinels followed.

-“Take the knights as well.”

-“?”

-“It’s finally time to repay that debt of yours.”

-“What debt? What did I do?”

-“...I won’t even bother answering that.”

-“??”

And so, Lionel’s Lions took up arms.

-“Haha, what luck. It’s close by.”

-“Mother, prepare the Swordmasters.”

Even Tristan and Offen prepared for war.

In that moment, forces strong enough to topple an empire gathered in one place.

It was a miracle, even in Pendragon’s long history.

For once, the great noble houses, known for their disunity and stubbornness, had united.

And no one could have predicted it.

That all of this—

All these legends of war rising to action—

Had been caused by a single knight’s letter.

A letter that wasn’t even some grand or desperate plea—

But a single, casual sentence:

[If you’re free, come help.]

Astonishingly enough...

-[Now, do you understand what you’ve done?]

"......."

-[Congratulations. You’ve created an event that will be recorded in Pendragon’s history forever. Huhu.]

“...Damn.”

Hearing her explanation, Ihan couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief.

What the hell...?

"Did they really take a simple request that seriously?"

He was grateful, sure.

But it was starting to feel a little embarrassing.

"Ugh."

Ihan exhaled, rubbing his temples.

-[You should feel proud, not embarrassed.]

Isis murmured softly, a small smile playing on her lips.

He didn’t seem to fully grasp the magnitude of what he had done.

But Isis could see it clearly.

‘From this moment onward, you are the knight who represents Pendragon.’

‘Whether you intended to or not, your actions, your resolve—

—are what moved these people.’

And that was—

‘Something even the War God himself failed to achieve.’

For the first time, Isis found herself jealous of her younger brother’s feat.

...Though, at the same time—

She couldn’t help but feel proud as well.