"Have you already finished the storyboard?" Esteban asked, surprised.

Rupert, who would normally meet with Esteban two or three times a week if nothing major was happening, had recently become so busy with his dual role as a professor at the Academy that they could only manage to meet on weekends.

"Yes, I thought I'd run out of time, but I managed to stick to the schedule." Rupert felt a sense of relief.

He had finally completed the storyboards for volumes 9 and 10 of The Iron-Blooded Alchemist, leaving only the final touches from Saint and Sena. With his part of the work finished, Rupert was now enjoying a rare moment of true relaxation.

"I've already informed the craftsmen that they should prepare for a month of overtime."

"I was hoping to avoid that... How did they react?" Rupert's expression showed disbelief, as if asking how such a thing could even be imposed.

Seeing Rupert’s reaction, Esteban’s face momentarily contorted, despite being in front of an important business partner.

‘Does this man have no conscience? He’s looking at me like I’m some kind of evil employer!’

Though he was known among merchants as "The Man with the Iron Mask" for his unflappable composure, Rupert had managed to unsettle him. He glared at Rupert, who continued to sip his tea as if nothing were amiss.

"...Surprisingly, the craftsmen reacted positively," Esteban admitted.

Despite telling them they'd be working hard for the next month, the craftsmen had seemed pleased. Esteban had no idea what to make of it anymore.

"Your idea to release a limited edition of volumes 1 to 10 as a complete set was brilliant," he added, remembering Rupert’s suggestion to sell a special edition with unique covers and a custom case to commemorate the series’ conclusion.

Initially, Esteban had been skeptical, wondering if people would buy something they already owned at such a high price.

But, since it was Rupert's idea, he decided to take the risk and open pre-orders for the limited edition set. He had been astonished when the demand far exceeded their expectations.

‘That’s just how this market works. People can’t resist anything labeled "limited edition."’

Esteban still couldn’t understand how this industry worked, where consumers were willing to make such irrational purchases.

Thanks to the demand, not only would they need to mass-produce volumes 9 and 10, but the factory would also have to run nonstop to produce the limited edition sets.

"How’s the contest going?" Rupert asked.

"Don’t even get me started. People are tearing down the posters to prevent others from seeing them, and we’ve already received some submissions," Esteban replied.

"Already?"

"Most of them are little more than children’s doodles."

It had been less than a week since the contest announcement, and it was impossible to submit a full three-episode manuscript unless the work had already been prepared in advance. Many of the early submissions were clearly hastily thrown together in the hopes of winning the prize, creating extra work for the Yuren Trading Company employees who had to sift through them.

Of course, the 100-gold prize was a significant amount, even for nobles, so the reaction was understandable.

"But can we really find a proper work this way?" Esteban asked.

"Honestly, it’s unlikely we’ll find a perfect work," Rupert replied.

He understood Esteban's concerns, but Rupert was more focused on one thing: potential.

The fairy tales and manga he had spread throughout this world had already planted seeds of creativity. He was certain that there were many captivating possibilities in the stories that would emerge from this world.

Technical deficiencies could be addressed with his guidance.

But the things he couldn’t teach—those were what he hoped to find in this contest.

‘Of course, it’d be nice if someone who could both draw and write incredibly well showed up, but…’ Rupert chuckled to himself. It was a bit much to hope for a prodigy to emerge in a world where manga was still in its infancy.

"Wooden doll."

Iolin began sketching with the pen that came in the manga starter set her servant had obtained for her.

What fascinated her about the recent work Pinocchio was that the puppet Pinocchio could talk and move like a person.

Although it was made possible by fairy magic in the story, Iolin wondered, what if it wasn’t magic?

‘Like my brother’s new golem arm.’

Lately, her brother Alex, the Crown Prince, had changed drastically.

Iolin had always known that Alex had a deep heart, but she’d also felt that he lacked the decisiveness needed to be a strong ruler. In her eyes, if only he had a bit more resolve, he could be a better leader than their father, the Emperor.

But Alex’s recent transformation had left her in awe.

No longer indecisive, Alex had begun to listen to his advisors and even led debates during court meetings, a stark contrast to his previous self.

‘Is it true that people grow and learn through sacrifice?’

Alex had certainly grown after losing his right arm and donning the iron prosthetic. The lines from the manga about sacrifice and growth seemed to ring true.

Rupert’s manga wasn’t just entertaining; it contained profound insights into the human experience. Inspired by this, Iolin felt the desire to create a manga with similar depth.

‘What if the wooden puppet were like a golem, moving automatically, just like the new golem arm?’

Rather than a magically animated puppet, Iolin imagined a mechanical doll made of precise, intricate components.

‘Should I call it a mechanical doll?’

The thought of the doll moving like a puppet, fighting like a knight in battle, seemed incredibly cool to Iolin.

As she sketched, the G-pen danced across the paper, producing a polished drawing. Despite having only recently started practicing, her talent had improved significantly, resulting in an impressive image of a mechanical doll.

However, Iolin soon found herself pondering again.

While the mechanical doll was a great concept, and having it fight was exciting, she couldn’t think of a reason for the fight.

Every fairy tale and manga she had read had a clear purpose driving the story.

She realized that what she needed was a purpose for her story.

‘The first mechanical doll wants to become human, like Pinocchio.’

She imagined a mechanical doll, the first of its kind, created with emotions. Over time, this doll developed a desire to become human.

Driven by this desire, the doll crossed forbidden lines, such as experimenting on humans, committing terrible acts in its quest to fulfill its wish.

To stop this rogue doll, a mechanical doll craftsman—her protagonist—would use their own creations to battle the first doll.

Although she wasn’t ready to submit it for the contest yet, Iolin felt a sense of pride as the basic structure of her story came together.

‘Is this the kind of process Rupert went through to create his manga?’

The act of turning her imagination into drawings and weaving a story from those images was a surprisingly enjoyable experience for Iolin.

Although she was prone to quickly losing interest in things, for some reason, this time felt different. She sensed that she wouldn’t tire of this easily.

"Go, Richard! You have to survive!"

"Don’t be ridiculous! I’ll clear a path, you just follow me!"

A man wielding a massive sword stood firm. The weapon was far too large to be called a sword, yet he handled it with ease.

Kahhh!

Behind the man lay a woman, collapsed on the ground, clutching a bow. A quiver of arrows was strapped to her back, but she was in bad shape, blood pouring from a wound near her abdomen.

The man swung his oversized sword to protect the injured woman.

Though it was a weapon most couldn’t even lift, he wielded it as easily as a wooden stick, sweeping through the creatures charging at them like scarecrows.

Though his sword was meant to cut, it seemed more accurate to say the creatures were being swept away.

Yet, there were still countless creatures remaining.

Even after watching their comrades be cut down, the beasts, with their gleaming eyes and sharp fangs, continued to rush forward without fear.

"You idiot… you have a home to return to. How long will you make your father and siblings wait?"

Seeing the hopeless situation, the woman weakly pushed at the man’s back, urging him to flee without her. She knew that with her injury, she wouldn’t make it out, and thought that at least one of them should survive.

"If I leave you behind, my family won’t welcome me home."

• Besides, what’s the point of surviving if I abandon you?

The woman called him a fool, but tears welled in her eyes at his words.

She focused her sharp, pointed ears, trying to listen.

"I hear over 50 of them."

"Easy, I’ll just swing ten times and take out five at a time."

The man pulled the massive sword closer to his body, assuming a ready stance.

Though he spoke nonchalantly to ease her worries, he knew the truth. It would be tough.

The creatures were so resilient that even decapitating them didn’t stop them immediately, and their claws and teeth could tear through steel armor with ease.

As the threat of death loomed, memories of the time he barely survived his first battle and wandered lost on the battlefield flashed through the man’s mind.

It was in that forest, while stumbling around without food or water, that he met his master.

From him, Richard had learned the ways of the sword and much more, inheriting his master’s mission.

Richard recalled his master’s words.

• Burn with everything you have.

As he swung his sword, Richard repeated the mantra in his mind.

‘Keep your head cool and your heart burning. I must surpass my limits.’

• I will go beyond. For I am Richard, heir to Somerset and leader of the Crimson Wardens.

His sword began to burn red with power.