"My Lord, here it is," Oliver said as he entered the hall, signaling the men behind him.

They carried several wooden crates and placed them carefully on the floor. The faint clinking of metal echoed through the room as the boxes were set down.

Ethan stood from his chair and walked forward. His eyes studied the crates with a calm but sharp gaze. "Are these all the things from Fenwick?" he asked quietly.

Oliver nodded. "Yes, my Lord. Everything the men could recover from."

Ethan knelt down and opened the first box. Inside were small artifacts,amulets, rings, and tools engraved with faint symbols. Some were damaged, others covered in soot, but most still carried a trace of energy.

He moved to the next crate and lifted its lid. Inside were scrolls wrapped neatly in silk and sealed with wax.

He picked one up and unrolled it slowly. The faded ink glowed faintly under the torchlight. Ethan's expression hardened as he began to read.

"These are martial techniques," he murmured. He laid them out one by one. "Blazing Wolf Strike, Iron Root Defense, Flowing Cloud Step, Thunderburst Palm, and Gale Cross Slash."

Each scroll bore different markings. Some showed sketches of human forms in combat poses, while others contained lines of intricate symbols.

Oliver leaned closer, his eyes widening. "So many techniques… Did he transfer everything?"

Ethan gave a short scoff. "Did you think of him as an idiot?" He rolled the scrolls back and set them aside. "These are only copies. None of the true versions would ever leave his family's vault. But copies are good enough for what we need."

He opened another crate. Inside were spellbooks and scrolls etched with arcane patterns. The faint scent of mana drifted from them. Ethan flipped through a few pages, muttering as he read the names aloud.

"Arc of Wind, Emberfall Surge, Mirror Veil, Stoneguard Binding, and Frost Chain Burst."

He closed the last book and placed it aside. "These should help the mages. Even if they're low-grade copies, it's better than sending them into battle untrained."

Oliver crossed his arms and looked at the pile. "With this, we could train a whole new unit. The people will finally have proper arts."

Ethan nodded slightly, his gaze turning distant. "It wasn't easy to get even this much."

He stood up, his expression growing serious. "You know the reason, don't you? The Kingdom restricts the trade of martial and magic arts. Only the royal capital sells them legally. And we haven't stepped foot there yet."

Oliver frowned. "Then how did Fenwick get so many?"

Ethan smirked faintly. "He probably dealt with private merchants or noble houses.If not then all this all from the dungeon. The only one in our region who handles such trade is Countess Rina. She keeps her business quiet, but her hands reach far."

Oliver sighed, rubbing his chin. "That woman again. Nothing happens in this land without her name appearing somewhere."

Ethan ignored the comment and began sorting through the scrolls again.

'Now I understand why a dungeon can entirely shift the dynamics.'

In terms of quality,the forces of Fenwick alone can overwhelm the other barony and can even give the Duchy a tough fight until higher ranks appear.

He separated a few from the rest, their covers marked with darker ink.

"These four techniques," he said, tapping them with his finger, "will go to the shadows."

Oliver looked at him questioningly. "Shadow division?"

Ethan nodded. 'Yes.They're stealth-based technique.Look here." He pointed at each scroll one by one.

"Silent Mirage Step, Phantom Veil, Serpent's Fang, and Shadow Heart Pulse. These are assassin techniques—meant for infiltration, silence, and killing without being seen."

He straightened his back and looked around the room. "The rest will go to the soldiers. Even the weak ones must learn something useful. We can't afford another disaster like before."

Oliver's face turned grim. "Understood. I'll have them sorted and copied by tonight. The men can begin training at dawn."

Ethan gave a short nod. "Good. Make sure the instructors test each one before teaching. Some of these techniques might be unstable or incomplete. I don't want any injuries."

Oliver placed a fist over his chest in salute. "As you command."

Ethan looked down at the piles of scrolls spread across the floor.His fingers brushed over the worn edges of one manual.

....

Diana sat quietly, her face serious as she looked through the scrolls spread out before her.

Each one contained a magic technique, their faint glow reflecting in her eyes.She touched the delicate ink with trembling fingers, her expression bitter.

'If only Father had given these to me before…' she thought with a pained heart.

She knew the truth behind it. Fenwick had never intended to let her grow.

He didn't want to waste resources on her, nor did he want her to gain power.

If she became strong, she would no longer be his tool, and he would lose control over her.

Her brows furrowed and her chest tightened with anger and regret. She clenched her fist, her knuckles turning white.

Just then, a warm hand reached out and gently held hers.Diana turned around, startled. Ethan was there, his calm eyes watching her with quiet understanding.

Without saying a word, he lifted her hand and softly kissed the back of her palm.

The tension in her heart melted instantly. The sadness that had filled her chest slowly eased.

"I know that look," Ethan said gently. His voice was low and comforting. "It's the gaze of a caged bird, desperate to fly free."

He smiled faintly, his hand brushing through her golden hair.

"With me here, you don't have to hold back anymore. Do what you want. Learn what you want. Don't worry about resources. Whatever you need will be yours. And if we don't have it now, we'll make sure to have it in the future."

His gaze softened. "Your only task is to master everything you can and become stronger. The stronger you are, the better it is for all of us."

Diana stared at him, her eyes wide.

For a moment, time seemed to stop. The world faded, and all she could see was him.

Her heart trembled as warmth flooded through her chest.

Then she felt her cheeks grow wet.

"Hu… Why are you crying?" Ethan asked in surprise, confused by her sudden tears.

He gently raised his hand and wiped her cheeks with his thumb.

"I'm just so happy," Diana whispered, smiling softly through her tears. Her smile was radiant, brighter than any light in the room.

The chains that once held her down were gone. For the first time, she felt free to dream, to fight, to live.

Overcome with emotion, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was soft and trembling, filled with warmth and gratitude. Her lips brushed him gently, as if afraid to break the fragile moment. Ethan responded slowly, his hand resting on her waist.

They both closed their eyes, savoring the sweetness.It wasn't wild or passionate, but tender and pure.

It was like a promise shared in silence.

When they finally pulled apart, Diana's face was flushed. She looked straight into his eyes and grabbed his hands tightly.

"I won't let you down," she said with firm resolve.

Ethan smiled faintly, unaware that the next day a certain chaos would knock on his door.

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