『"You wretched insects! No matter how many I kill, more appear to thwart me."』

Dracula, for the first time since becoming immortal, felt a sense of alarm.

There was the woman who turned her own body into poison, sacrificing herself as bait to kill him.

And the man who, despite knowing it would cost him his life, clung to Dracula's arm just to buy a little more time.

"If you let go now, you'll die!"

"I don't care. Even if I die, I won't pull out this sword."

Though his entire body was battered and broken, the man gripped the sword impaling Dracula's right arm with both hands.

And then,

"We fight alongside the rising sun."

In the distance, dawn was breaking.

Though the sun had not yet risen, the young man—no, the boy holding the burning sword before Dracula—seemed as if he had the sun at his back.

The time for those who had lost family, friends, or something precious to Dracula and the vampires to finally settle the score had arrived.

"This is maddening. How can it end here?"
"Abraham's final words were amazing—‘We fight alongside the rising sun.’"
"The image of their fallen comrades against the backdrop of dawn—sheer artistry!"

Readers marveled at the approaching conclusion of Van Helsing.

Though Rupert was juggling two serialized works, the meticulous detail and passion in his artwork moved readers deeply.

The brutal, spectacular showdown between Dracula and the Van Helsing crew was the pinnacle of magnificence.

The sight of the crew fighting with swords engulfed in fire, lightning, or wind sent a thrill through the hearts of young men.

"Teach me the Flame Mana Training Technique!"
"That doesn’t exist…"
"What? What a letdown. I’ll find another place."

If The Iron-Blooded Alchemist had turned the Alchemy Guild into a roaring success, Van Helsing was driving children across the Empire into swordsmanship dojos.

From renowned schools in the capital to small village dojos, lines of children formed, all asking for training in the mana techniques used by the heroes of Van Helsing.

"That’s just something from the manga!"
"No way, I heard they have it in the Sleepy estate!"

Of course, such techniques didn’t exist in reality, and there were only two ways to handle the situation.

"You’ll need years of intense training—at least ten years of swordsmanship before you can attempt it."

Much like the Alchemy Guild's approach, they lured students with promises of future training and hoped they’d find satisfaction in the experience once the truth came out.

The other option was to tell the truth outright.

But reality often played tricks on the straightforward.

"Please, take me as your disciple, Master!"
"I’m not really qualified…"
"Teach me how to wield a flaming sword!"

The Sleepy estate had become crowded with young men from far and wide, and the root of this chaos was none other than Richard.

"Have you heard the rumor? They say there’s someone in Sleepy who wields the Flame Mana Training Technique."

Richard, tasked with restoring the estate ravaged by Sataniel and his followers, had occasionally demonstrated swordsmanship while training the surviving guards.

The fiery greatsword he wielded became the talk of the region, spreading like wildfire.

"This is insane. I’m not someone who can teach…"
"Don’t be modest. If you, who defeated Sataniel, aren’t qualified, no one is."
"Shh!"

Richard quickly silenced Sifris, who had been chiding him, glancing around to ensure no one overheard.

Though the truth was that Sataniel’s defeat involved the baron of Sleepy, much of it remained a closely guarded secret for the sake of Imperial-elf relations.

"Why not give it a shot?"
"What?"
"Sleepy estate needs people. If you teach swordsmanship on the condition that they settle here, it could help the estate."

Richard pondered Sifris’s suggestion, finding it surprisingly reasonable.

"If even a tenth of those who come settle here, it’ll be a great help."

Hearing Sifris’s hopeful words, Richard finally made up his mind.

"Then what should we call the dojo?"
"How about naming it after your master and former commander—Oregon?"
"That’s perfect."

And thus, the famed Oregon Academy, later praised as surpassing even the Imperial Academy in swordsmanship, was born.

"Lord Rupert, are you really building a ship?"
"Yes, I am."

Ismael rubbed his eyes in disbelief, staring at the scene unfolding before him.

"The eastern seas are known for their treacherous waters. The keel must be built from Elfwood to endure the long voyages."

Krune’s eyes gleamed as he examined the Elfwood—one of the materials he had selected.

Though dwarves typically loathed anything associated with elves, even Krune found this superior material irresistible.

‘Elfwood? Perhaps I can procure it with help from the elder.’

Renowned for its unparalleled flexibility and resistance to pests or decay, Elfwood was a dream material.

Thanks to Sifris, Rupert’s sister-in-law, they had managed to acquire this legendary wood.

"I’ve never built a ship myself, though. I’ve only helped others or watched."
"Don’t worry. I’ve enlisted the Empire’s best shipbuilder for this project."

Krune seemed genuinely excited at the opportunity to learn a new craft.

And then there was Ismael, standing with tears in his eyes as he gazed at the materials.

"Are you ready to fulfill your dream?"

Rupert’s words had come out of nowhere while Ismael was preparing for his next work after the conclusion of White Whale.

Ismael had once told Rupert about his dream of building a ship to find his father.

"I’ve made some money, but it’s not enough to buy a proper ship."

Rupert had decided to gift him a ship, framing it as a necessity for his new project to convince Ismael to accept it.

"You’ll have to learn how to steer and manage a ship to carry passengers on the sea."
"Yes!"

Ismael, now brimming with enthusiasm, devoted himself to learning navigation and ship operation.

Rupert watched as Ismael’s tears of joy turned into determination.

‘That’s one promise fulfilled.’

Rupert felt satisfaction seeing the boy he’d promised to help achieve his dream finally on the path to making it a reality.

"Congratulations, Ismael!"
"Thank you, Sena…"

Sena embraced Ismael, who returned the gesture with gratitude.

‘When did these two become so close?’

Rupert couldn’t help but feel bittersweet as he observed their bond.

"I’ll make you the first passenger on my ship, Sena."
"But isn’t it bad luck to bring women on board?"
"You’re my lucky charm."

Sena’s tears flowed, but her smile shone with joy.

Rupert sighed, realizing he had witnessed yet another chapter of youth blooming before him.