The Lord: Raising a Maiden in the World of Torment

Field's half-brother twisted his face into a sneer, his tone dripping with malice. "Once you set foot in that cursed wasteland, you'll never come back. It'd be such a shame if I didn't savour the look on your face before then."

Field's fingernails dug deep into his palms, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked audibly. His voice was icy as he demanded, "I've never wronged you. Why are you so intent on targeting me?"

"Because of that damned battle aura potion you 'gifted' me," his brother spat. "After taking it, I couldn't even break through to a first-tier knight! Everyone whispers behind my back, calling me a failure—and it's all your fault! You must've poisoned it!"

Field's disgust boiled over. "No. That's just because you're trash."

"Trash, huh? We'll see who's laughing when I grab your lover—assuming you ever get one—and hand her over to a pack of filthy vagrants to do as they please! Oh, but that's right, you won't have a future anymore, you bastard!" His brother made a mocking face, full of smug satisfaction.

"You scum!" Field's fury erupted, an inferno blazing hotter with every word. The original owner of this body really was too soft.

Sure enough, good deeds only brought trouble. The road builders end up without graves, while bandits live rich and free. These ungrateful vermin only understand one language—violence!

"You've got a death wish!"

With a sudden explosion of movement, Field drove his knee into his brother's gut, sending him flying backwards with a sickening thud. Not giving him a moment to recover, Field sprang forward, slamming a brutal kick into his brother's face. Blood splattered across the ground, staining his twisted, ugly features.

Everyone was stunned. Field, who had always been known as the quiet and obedient one, was now displaying a level of brutality they had never imagined.

"I hate being threatened the most."

Before the guards could react, Field grabbed his half-brother's golden curls and yanked him forward, ready to slam his head into the ground.

But suddenly, he felt a crushing grip around his neck. His entire body was lifted off the ground as if he weighed nothing.

In an instant, a searing pain of suffocation overwhelmed him, and Field felt the icy hand of death creeping closer.

"What are you doing to my lord?"

The voice belonged to a strikingly beautiful woman with flowing wine-red hair. What caught Field's attention most was the mysterious rune glowing faintly on her forehead.

"A Chosen One?" Field was stunned.

In this world, extraordinary power lay in the hands of the Chosen. They were a rare and unique existence, standing above battle aura and magic. Their abilities defied all logic, ranging from combat to support and even construction.

The worst part? Only women could become Chosen Ones. Figures. The gods of this world must all be women too. Damn it.

Just as Field was about to lose consciousness, a violent spinning sensation overtook him, followed by a sharp, jarring pain in his back. He had been hurled against the wall like a rag doll.

"Heh, you're too scared to kill me, aren't you?" Field spat through gritted teeth.

"I'll kill you!" His half-brother rasped, coughing violently as he drew a dagger from his waist.

Field wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. There was no way he could take on a Chosen One. Knowing he was outmatched, he didn't waste another second. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he turned and quickly made his way out of the room.

To Field's dismay, his brother, not yet officially in power, already had a Chosen One as his protector. This only heightened the sense of danger.

He couldn't afford to sit around and wait for death. Now that he had thoroughly offended his brother, Field knew he had to act fast. Otherwise, by tonight, he'd likely be dragged off and subjected to all manner of insane torture.

"Just wait until I've had some time to grow. I'll be back to destroy every single one of you." Field's gaze dropped, the fury in his eyes barely contained.

Nine years of compulsory education, and I'm no coward!

"So, what's with this annoying little green dot buzzing around like a fly?" Field muttered, focusing on the translucent map that only he could see. "It's been there since the day I arrived. Maybe it has something to do with my Lord's Gift."

In this world, balance dictated that with "Chosen Ones" came "Lords." By forming a contract with a Chosen One, Lords and their partners could share growth and power, progressing together.

Lords had unique gifts, often tied to their Chosen Ones or the lands they governed. However, there were rare cases of innate gifts—Lords born with abilities even without lands or contracts.

The original Field had no such luck, but as a transmigrator, the new Field possessed one of these rare, innate gifts.

Of course, it could also just be floaters in his vision or cataracts. Either way, he'd know soon enough—since the dot wasn't far, just in Golden Eagle City.

After packing lightly, Field found the butler waiting for him, a sack of gold coins in hand. The servants stood behind him, all wearing expressions of abject despair.

Having learned they were bound for the cursed lands, the butler looked as if he'd rather hang himself. But since suicide barred entry to heaven, he had no choice but to steel himself for a grim fate.

"Let's go," Field said, preoccupied with his own thoughts and in no mood to comfort his despondent butler.

As soon as they opened the gates to the estate, a group of raggedly armoured cavalry appeared on the horizon. A man draped in a red cloak and carrying a long lance stepped forward from their midst.

"Honourable Baron Field," the man announced, his voice steady and formal. "I am Captain Leona of the cavalry. I will serve as your escort. I trust we shall have a pleasant journey."

"Maybe they're here to keep an eye on me... make sure I walk to my execution."

"Well then, I'll be counting on you, Captain Leona," Field replied politely, though every alarm in his head was blaring.

They called it an escort, but the rough, almost bandit-like air about the cavalrymen did little to inspire confidence. Field wouldn't have been surprised if they killed him and made off with his money as soon as they left the city.

Of course, that was unlikely. Registered knights usually weren't foolish enough to commit a crime as career-ending as murdering a noble.

Field shrugged nonchalantly. "Let's make a stop in Golden Eagle City first. Setting up Nightfall Territory will require plenty of supplies."

In truth, his main goal was to investigate the mysterious green dot.

Golden Eagle City, the second-largest city in the Ross family's domain, was an unrivalled commercial hub. It had been granted to Field's second sister, whose annual tax revenue reportedly exceeded six hundred thousand gold coins. Compared to his meagre five hundred, the disparity was glaringly painful.

After half a day of travel by carriage, Field arrived at the sprawling city, covering an impressive forty square kilometres.

Unlike the orderliness of modern cities, the gates of Golden Eagle City were guarded by soldiers who lounged lazily against the walls, trading crude jokes or harassing and extorting the poor for exorbitant entry fees.

As Field's escort approached, however, the scene changed. A gate officer suddenly leapt from his chair, straightening up in panic.

"Move those filthy peasants' belongings out of the way! A lord is passing through—use your eyes, you fools!"

The lazy soldiers immediately straightened their backs, shouting and shoving peasants and merchants aside to clear the gate. Once the path was unobstructed, they plastered on obsequious smiles and bowed respectfully to Field.

Though Field was far from favoured in his family, he was still a noble, and commoners wouldn't dare to offend him.

Slowing his horse to a trot, Field followed the green dot on his map, guiding himself steadily through the city.

Meanwhile, the gate officer let out a long sigh of relief. As long as the noble didn't cause him trouble, it was another good day. He barked orders for his men to resume taxing travellers, then tipped back a bottle of olive wine and stretched out in his chair to bask in the sun once more.

The green dot led Field to the northern part of the city—to the slave market.

"Oh, for the love of—what is that godawful smell?" Captain Leona wrinkled his nose in disgust, furiously fanning the air in front of his face. The putrid stench of pig feed mixed with dung assaulted his senses, stubbornly refusing to dissipate no matter how hard he tried to wave it away.