Chapter 156: Beyond Legend

Two days later, inside the lord’s manor of Coldsteel City, the entire city had already entered full wartime mobilization. With battle looming on the horizon, everyone in Nolan’s circle was so busy they barely had time to breathe.

Outside the alchemy workshop, dozens of wooden crates of varying sizes were piled high. One of Leus’ female apprentices was frantically directing several guards as they carried them away, sweat dripping down her face. “Careful! Handle them gently! These are all Master Leus’ treasures. If even one bottle breaks, none of us could ever afford to pay for it!”

At that moment, a tall figure walked over. Without a word, he pulled off his coat and casually tossed it aside, revealing the solid lines of his muscular frame underneath.

“My lord!” The apprentice nearly jumped in fright and hurried over in panic. “Wh-what are you doing?”

Nolan rolled his shoulders as though the answer were obvious. “What does it look like? Helping move supplies. At your current pace, you’ll still be here after dark.”

“But… but you’re the lord!” The apprentice looked ready to cry. What kind of lord personally did manual labor like this? If anyone saw it, she would be blamed for gross negligence.

Nolan laughed. “What, lords aren’t allowed to carry things? Looking down on me?” He clapped his hands and walked toward the crates. “The whole city’s preparing for war right now, yet somehow I’m the only one with free time. Might as well stretch a little.”

As for why he had removed his shirt, it was not because he was trying to show off. His legendary armor, the Immovable Bulwark, possessed terrifying defensive power, but it was an unbearable burden when doing physical work. As for the lord’s coat, if it got dirty or torn, his chief steward would undoubtedly lecture him for half the day.

“Enough standing around.” Nolan glanced at the apprentice. “Instead of wasting time arguing with me, go move a few more crates. I’ll see you at the guard camp.”

Taking a deep breath, he bent down and lifted three massive crates stacked together in one motion.

Each crate normally required two adult guards working together just to barely lift it. Yet in Nolan’s hands, they seemed no heavier than empty boxes as he casually carried them away with relaxed steps.

The apprentice stood frozen in place, staring blankly at his retreating figure, completely forgetting what she had been about to say.

She knew the lord was powerful, but this was absurd. Even the Silver-rank warriors among the guards could only manage two crates at most.

With Nolan joining as a “super porter,” efficiency skyrocketed. In less than half an hour, the mountain of crates outside the workshop had completely vanished. Dozens of boxes of potions were swiftly loaded onto carts and transported to the Black Armored Legion camp outside the city.

When Nolan finally set down the last crates and straightened up to rub his sore back, a coat carrying a familiar warmth was gently draped over his shoulders.

Turning around, he was greeted by a familiar blaze of crimson hair and a pair of smiling eyes.

“Oh, Rehanna. Thanks.”

The newcomer was none other than Rehanna Sylvain, former leader of the Fire Fox Mercenary Company and now one of the captains of the Black Armored Legion.

Today she wore a perfectly tailored dark blue military uniform. The fitted jacket accentuated her striking figure, while the polished high boots made her long legs appear even more slender. The fiery wildness she once carried as a mercenary had faded somewhat, replaced by the crisp confidence and competence of a professional soldier, giving her an entirely different kind of charm.

“My lord, you’re doing everything yourself again.” Rehanna adjusted his collar while speaking with a helpless smile. Beneath the exasperation in her tone, however, was unmistakable admiration.

She had long grown accustomed to this lord who possessed absolutely no aristocratic airs whatsoever. By now, his constant habit of personally involving himself in random tasks no longer surprised her.

Truthfully, she liked that about him.

“Can’t help it. I don’t know how to sit still.” Nolan shrugged. “How’s everything on your end?”

He slipped his coat back on properly and tightened the collar. The lingering warmth felt strangely comforting.

“Everything’s ready.” Rehanna nodded. “All the personnel you requested have assembled. They’re waiting for your address at the training grounds.”

“Good.” Nolan smiled in satisfaction. “Then let’s head over.”

The two of them began walking toward the training grounds together.

Half a step behind him, Rehanna looked at Nolan’s broad back and suddenly felt an unprecedented sense of security rise within her heart. Perhaps, she thought, simply continuing to follow behind him like this and watching him lead everyone toward that bright future would already be a kind of happiness.

The training grounds had transformed into a sea of dark blue.

Thousands of soldiers dressed in standardized uniforms stood in six massive formations. Their backs were straight as iron rods, motionless like statues, while a suffocating aura of killing intent hung over the entire field.

This was the reborn Black Armored Legion personally forged by Nolan.

In the history of the Elfin Kingdom, the Black Armor Army had always been legendary.

Personally established by the former king, the army had once reached a peak strength of twenty thousand men, consisting of several heavy infantry regiments, guard regiments, scout corps, an honor guard, and a mage corps. They had once followed the former king in sweeping through the knight orders of the Rus Empire, even breaking through the blockade of the Iron Fist Legion—one of the empire’s five great armies—and driving southward in an unstoppable advance. Their terrifying momentum earned them the title of the “Black Steel Tide,” and from that campaign onward, they became bitter enemies of the Iron Fist Legion.

Rumor had it that even today, every military exercise conducted by the Iron Fist Legion still listed the Black Armor Army as its hypothetical enemy.

But Nolan had not copied the old system entirely.

Using the Honor Guard, the most elite unit of the original Black Armor Army, as his template, he had restructured the entire force into a more elite organization.

At present, the Black Armored Legion consisted of six major divisions.

Divisions Two through Six formed the five core combat divisions of the guard, each at full strength with five hundred men, roughly equivalent to a battalion in modern military terms. This structure came from countless lessons players had learned through real combat. On the Vaughn Continent, considering both the scale of warfare and the power of individual combatants, this configuration produced the highest command efficiency while maximizing group combat effectiveness.

As for why he called them “major divisions,” that was purely Nolan’s personal preference, though he also enjoyed the idea of confusing potential enemies.

The Seventh Division was a special reserve and support unit. Vivi’s Scout Division, the military priest corps led by Kayan, the future mage corps Renee was currently selecting and training, along with younger recruits and reserve fighters who had not yet met the standards for frontline combat divisions, were all temporarily assigned there.

This would become the core force for the Black Armored Legion’s future expansion.

As for the First Division, it remained vacant for now.

It was reserved as the Honor Division.

According to Nolan’s vision, only veterans who distinguished themselves in future battles and warriors of truly exceptional ability would earn the right to enter its ranks and become the symbol of glory for the entire legion.

Although the soldiers’ average strength still mostly lingered around Bronze rank, the spirit they displayed now was already no weaker than the royal capital’s standing army.

“You and Hank did an excellent job.” Looking at the army that truly belonged to him, Nolan spoke sincerely to Rehanna beside him. “To train them to this level in such a short time, the two of you deserve enormous credit.”

Rehanna shook her head gently, her crimson hair swaying in the wind. “No, my lord.” Her gaze swept across the rows of young faces. “It’s because every one of them genuinely admires you from the bottom of their hearts. Being selected for the Black Armored Legion is the greatest honor of their lives. They fight for you.”

Nolan fell silent for a moment before nodding slowly.

He knew she was telling the truth.

His ultimate dream was for every person on this land to fight for themselves, for their homes, and for their own beliefs. But he also understood that at this early stage, he had to become the banner leading everyone forward, the spiritual pillar uniting them together.

He would never shrink from that responsibility.

The moment Nolan stepped onto the training grounds, thousands of eyes focused on him simultaneously. Those gazes were filled with admiration, fervor, and burning fighting spirit.

Step by step, he climbed onto the temporary platform as the autumn wind whipped the hem of his black coat violently behind him.

Ailindel, still clad in that sacred white armor, had long been waiting there. Now she stood silently at Nolan’s side together with Rehanna.

Below the platform stood Hank, Little Donnie, Kayan, Vivi, Renee, and the other core companions who had followed Nolan from the very beginning, each positioned at the front of their respective formations. Farther away, Leus stood together with his son Kreil and the blacksmith Barton at one corner of the training grounds, their faces filled with excitement as they looked toward the platform.

At this moment, every heart present was tightly bound to the man standing above them.

“My lord!” Hank stepped forward and spoke in a deep voice. “The Black Armored Legion is fully assembled. Awaiting your orders!”

Nolan looked at the army before him, at these soldiers who had entrusted both their lives and futures to him.

Even for someone like him—a transmigrator who had witnessed countless grand scenes before—his emotions surged violently at this moment.

This was the first fulcrum with which he would pry apart the balance of power across the kingdom. This was the force upon which he would survive and fight.

This was his army.

A sense of ambition unlike anything he had ever experienced surged through his chest.

Even during his twenty years as a player, he had never felt anything so real, never carried bonds and responsibilities with such crushing weight.

He was no longer merely a player chasing strength, nor a powerless observer standing helplessly before the unfolding “plot.”

He was a lord, a part of this world itself. Behind him stood thousands of soldiers willing to die for him. Beneath his feet lay a land waiting to be saved. And here, with his own hands, he would rewrite history. He would not merely continue the legend.

He would surpass it.