Chapter 208: You Want to Manipulate Me? Dream On

Just as Lance was about to straighten up and listen more carefully to the rest of the argument—

The wooden door to the preliminary review office opened from inside.

“Next.”

The clerk responsible for the initial review leaned halfway out the door and called out coldly.

The procedure here was simple.

They only verified the original contract.

Lance quickly passed the preliminary examination and, carrying the parchment stamped with the preliminary approval seal along with a small crystal tablet issued by the office, arrived at the quota registration desk at the end of the corridor.

This crystal tablet, faintly glowing with magical power, would serve as his identification for entering the baptism ritual.

At that moment—

Behind the registration desk sat a military administrative secretary.

The man's name was Ilya.

He appeared to be in his early twenties, thin and wiry, with small darting eyes that gave him the unmistakable appearance of a sneaky opportunist.

Ilya was currently in an extremely foul mood.

Just a few hours earlier, the steward of a powerful count's family in the city had secretly approached him.

The steward had offered a price so high that it was difficult to refuse.

The purpose was simple:

To secretly purchase a Heroic Spirit Baptism slot.

The count's son had just advanced into a professional class last month, and the family wanted to gild his reputation.

Unfortunately, this windfall was not easy money.

The Summer Crown had been moved forward so suddenly that very few people had managed to qualify for this year's Heroic Spirit Baptism.

The fewer registrants there were, the fewer quotas he could manipulate.

As for those candidates with deep military connections—

Even if he had ten times the courage, he would not dare touch them.

But the amount offered by the steward was simply too tempting.

It was a number he could not bring himself to walk away from.

Just as he was pulling at his hair in frustration—

Lance pushed open the door and approached the desk.

“Hello, I'm here to register for this Heroic Spirit Baptism.”

He handed over the parchment and crystal tablet.

Ilya accepted the parchment.

His eyes rapidly scanned the key information while discreetly sizing up the black-haired youth before him.

“Ryan... retired from the Third Legion... Silver Gryphon Medal.”

His mind immediately began calculating.

Judging from the military watermark on the document, the transfer contract was genuine.

However, the issuance date was extremely old.

A rough estimate placed it at more than twenty years ago.

There was no denying it.

Within the Iris Kingdom, the Heroic Spirit Baptism was one of the military's highest rewards for distinguished service.

To protect the rights of retired veterans, the entire review and transfer process had originally been written with extremely strict regulations.

But that had been the military from several centuries ago.

Back when it still possessed some degree of integrity.

The current Iris Kingdom military was riddled with competing interests, and its lower bureaucratic systems had long since become rotten.

Valuable quotas like the Heroic Spirit Baptism—which could directly improve a professional's future potential—had become excellent tools for officials seeking massive profits.

They particularly liked targeting old veteran quotas that lacked powerful backing and had been issued many years ago.

Ilya narrowed his eyes as he examined Lance's clothing.

Ordinary linen garments.

No family crest.

No expensive accessories.

Combined with a contract over twenty years old.

A sneer formed inside his mind.

If that veteran named Ryan truly had influential connections within the military hierarchy, he would have risen to prominence long ago.

Since twenty years had passed without any sign of advancement—

And considering the poorly dressed youth before him—

This seemed like the perfect soft target for testing the waters.

To ensure absolute safety, Ilya cleared his throat and adopted a concerned expression before beginning to question Lance about his background.

He claimed it was necessary information for the upcoming Heroic Spirit Baptism.

“I've handled registrations here for many years.”

Ilya spoke with feigned authority.

“I've seen a great deal.”

“There are actually many hidden techniques involved in the baptism process.”

“If I can fully understand your life experiences, it'll increase your chances of being chosen by powerful Heroic Spirit Noble Phantasms.”

Hearing this, Lance's heart stirred slightly.

However, he showed nothing on his face.

Following the man's lead, he briefly explained how he had grown up in Graystone Town, worked as a guild scribe, and later became an Adventurer.

After hearing the completely unremarkable story—

Ilya relaxed internally.

An orphan from a frontier town.

No connections.

No background.

Perfect.

All registration quotas for this batch would be finalized and sealed by the afternoon.

From morning until now, this boy was by far the easiest target he had encountered.

It seemed he would have to use this unfortunate fool's quota.

Thinking of the astronomical sum promised by the steward—

Even after sharing a substantial portion with his superior, the chief reviewing officer Vance, the remainder would still be enough for him to enjoy himself in White River City's finest taverns for a very long time.

Though the Veterans’ Institute was rotten on the inside, the official Heroic Spirit Baptism review regulations remained strict on paper.

Unfortunately, rapid advancements in continental alchemical technology had introduced a new problem.

The royal capital had forcefully implemented magical machinery as part of the review process.

Officially, it was advertised as a reform intended to prevent human tampering and improve efficiency.

In reality, it had created even larger opportunities for clerks familiar with the system's loopholes.

They could legally and reasonably steal someone else's quota.

Ilya took Lance's crystal tablet and parchment.

Turning around, he inserted the crystal tablet into a precision brass gear machine currently in operation.

This machine served as the alchemical terminal responsible for sequence registration.

With practiced motions, he adjusted several brass levers on the side.

Using the excuse of “missing this year's Defense Bureau Joint Mana Verification Seal,” he stamped a rune indicating rejection and pending review onto the crystal tablet.

The moment the seal was applied—

The alchemical machine emitted a mechanical hum.

The quota, which should have entered the official sequence, was immediately diverted into the pending review slot.

This was the greatest flaw in the mechanical process.

All subsequent ritual verification procedures—

Entering the grand formation.

Selecting Noble Phantasms.

Everything.

Only recognized the crystal tablet.

Sometimes Ilya genuinely wondered whether the Senate Elders who had pushed these reforms had accepted enormous bribes from the Alchemy Association.

Otherwise, why would they create such a rigid system that blindly trusted machinery?

Now—

All he needed to do was lock this youth's crystal tablet using his authority.

Then send him home to wait for updates.

As long as the crystal tablet remained here—

The moment Lance left, Ilya could use internal permissions to move the tablet back into the official sequence and simply change the registered name.

The entire operation would be invisible.

By the time the baptism ceremony concluded half a month later—

He would simply put on a regretful expression and inform the boy that the quota had expired due to review delays.

What could a rural orphan possibly do about it?

At worst, according to regulations, they would pay a token compensation in gold coins.

A cheap buyout of the quota.

He had been pulling off this sort of deception flawlessly for the past two years.

“I'm terribly sorry.”

Ilya turned back around and put on an expression of regret.

He slid a parchment stamped with 【Pending Review】 across the desk.

“This contract is simply too old.”

“According to the latest reform procedures, old quotas like this require secondary verification from the Defense Bureau.”

“You should head home and wait a few days.”

“I'll send someone to notify you once we receive the results.”

The moment those words left his mouth—

A strong, slender hand suddenly reached forward and firmly pressed down on the parchment.

Lance's fingers tightened slightly.

The parchment was pinned firmly against the desk, preventing Ilya from pushing it any farther.

He truly had not expected it.

Just moments ago, he had witnessed a veteran accusing officials of stealing his quota.

And now the exact same farce had landed on his own head.

Lance had already gathered the relevant information.

The baptism officially began tomorrow.

Go home and wait a few days?

By the time he returned, the quota would probably already bear someone else's name.

Schemes like this—

Using information asymmetry and official authority for personal gain—

Were things he had seen countless times in his previous life's workplace.

He simply had not expected to encounter such authentic bureaucratic corruption in another world.

Unlike the veteran from earlier, Lance did not shout.

Nor did he make a scene.

The smile simply vanished from his face.

His black eyes locked onto Ilya.

At that instant—

The 【Dragon Form】 hidden deep within Lance's soul slowly and steadily activated alongside the hostility he felt toward the man.

Dragon Might descended like an invisible mountain.

The entire area behind the desk was instantly engulfed by its pressure.

Ilya had been preparing to scold the youth for not understanding proper procedure.

Instead, he suddenly felt as though an invisible hand had seized his throat.

Nothing was actually touching his neck.

Yet suffocation immediately overwhelmed him.

He stared at the black-haired youth in horror.

The aura surrounding him had undergone a complete transformation.

What terrifying pressure!

Cold sweat instantly soaked through Ilya's back.

Was this really the presence of a rural orphan?

Inside his mind, Ilya was practically screaming.

The only times he had ever felt such horrifying pressure were during distant audiences with a handful of great nobles.

Had he truly made a mistake this time?

Had he chosen the wrong person to manipulate?