Chapter 156: From Flow To Law
The snowfall gradually thinned. The river, frozen solid throughout winter, let out a sharp crack as fissures spread across its surface. As the early morning sunlight carried warmth to bare skin, pack horses stood in a line, breathing out white clouds of vapor.
It was a wagon convoy from Viale, which had crossed over from the continent's western reaches. The ringing of bells tied around the animals' necks echoed through the encampnt.
"We've arrived."
Captain Royce muttered, pulling off his leather gloves. Marik nodded at his side.
"It was worth opening the border. Additional supplies from southern Astria should arrive soon as well."
"The problem is the spring thaw."
"……Yes. A hungry spring draws near."
From behind, Hadiya added, inspecting the contents of the wagons.
"Trust the elves to send only the freshest of everything."
Acorns, dried apples, oats and buckwheat, herb-infused vinegar, and the like. It wasn't difficult to deduce which side had sent them. Fortunately, beer, pickled ats, and dried mushrooms ca tumbling out next, giving everyone so relief.
"Damn it all! Dwarves, through and through!"
"Aah, you lucky bastards. The beer brewed in this season is the finest of all!"
The joy was short-lived, as the dwarf Basim was left scratching his head over how to transport everything. Once the ground began to thaw, they would have to push through the mud.
"You just lay down planks and press on."
"That works when the scale is small. But this ti…… We'll need to fit sled runners underneath."
No one said it aloud, but everyone understood. These were preparations for the expedition. Even the nobles had fallen quiet.
It was a silence born of consensus.
And yet, in one particular place, the atmosphere was the polar opposite.
In the middle of the snowfield, a circular clearing had been fashioned on a temporary basis. Sand had been scattered to lt the snow, and thin lines of chalk powder had been drawn across it. The swordsn sat on cloths spread out in all directions.
At the center, Calix and Sevi Belgrado sat facing one another.
"A higher output does not an a higher realm. Nor does the reverse hold true."
Master Belgrado did not wield his influence carelessly. He offered not a single opinion on the battlefield.
Instead, from the very day of his arrival, he shared his insights on swordsmanship without pause.
"Like so—the body and spirit must be in balance. What aning do you imbue into the tip of your blade as you swing it? That is what matters. Your own enlightennt is no different."
He gazed at Airien with clear, steady eyes before turning back to Calix.
"I hear you studied the breathing technique of the leaves. Since the structure of neural accelerators differs between humans and elves, it likely offered little in the way of mana circulation. And yet they are skilled in working the mind. They prize circulation over explosion of force. Even that half alone is worthy of being called an arcane secret."
"……I see."
He did not dwell on minor swordsmanship. The conversation centered on the essence of advancent—what problems had arisen, and how they had been resolved.
The wall of the Master's realm, in particular, occupied much of their discussion.
"There is no need to dress it up in grand words like Wind's Scar or Falling Fire. We began with lines, sent points flying, and advanced into planes. The next step would be space. Then—what is your answer?"
"It was releasing attachnt."
Calix steadied his breath for a mont before answering.
Belgrado smiled faintly.
"That, too, can serve as a form of proof. You begin with will, load the path with force, and connect it to the result. Only when that process flows without interruption does the world respond."
A murmur rippled through those gathered around them. Words closer to sensation than theory. The knights drew on Belgrado's words and fell into lively conversation.
Just then, Belgrado asked again.
"You've crossed into that threshold, haven't you?"
"The threshold……"
"I speak of the Apex of Annihilation. The force that converges all that exists into nothingness. It isn't perfect—but you have clearly stepped upon that line. Am I right?"
At those words, Calix's eyes closed without warning.
The mont the world had folded in upon itself, not long ago, rose vividly in his mind. His heart had been beating, yet he could not hear it; the sound of his own breathing spread quietly through the back of his neck and along his spine. Without sound, without fla—only the conclusion had remained in that scene.
"Then show ."
Sevi Belgrado rose slowly from his place.
"It cannot be put into words, after all."
The circular clearing fell into silence in an instant. The swordsn seated in a semicircle drew back, making space.
Calix stood across from him and rested his hand on the hilt at his side. The rough texture of sand caught beneath his feet. Just as he widened his stance and settled into position, his opponent moved first.
The first movent.
He half-extended his right foot and swung his blade diagonally—a downward slash running from the left shoulder to the lower right. The edge traced a graceful arc as it ca cutting down.
Calix braced the grip with his left hand, raised the flat of the blade, and let the force bleed away. Rather than his wrist being driven inward, his opponent's attack slipped out to the side.
Yet not a flicker crossed Belgrado's face.
The second movent.
This ti he dropped his axis lower and pressed deep into the flank. He drew the tip of the blade horizontally, then bent it at a slant at the last mont. A trajectory that skimd near the shin.
In answer, Calix boldly stepped into the path of that arc. He bent his waist, flipped his blade flat, and followed his opponent's move.
Blade sliding against blade as they overlapped—then both wrists twisted at once, and the flow was drawn upward above the head.
On the third movent, Calix struck first. He lowered his body, withdrew his sword, and imdiately pushed into an attack. He pressed the edge low against his abdon and rotated it, sweeping in a single motion toward his opponent's flank.
The tip drew a short arc and grazed Belgrado's neck in a paper-thin pass.
Fsss.
Before the sound of the swing could reach the ears, the chalk powder rose first.
To the eye, it looked an even match. And yet, among those watching, a few noticed a difference—small and yet imnse.
***
"……He'll start to lose ground before long."
Knight Helmut Barben spoke those words and pressed his lips shut. He suppressed his feelings as much as he could, wary lest jealousy seep through.
‘A true Master, no doubt. He's barely used any mana, yet he's bending the entire space to his will.’
His ntor, Imran Akran, had said the very sa thing. A grave piece of counsel—to establish one's own law. And Helmut, though he had witnessed and experienced it, had yet to put it into practice.
The complicated look in his eyes was, undoubtedly, because of that.
The two clashed again, but no ring of tal sounded. This was not a contest of force against force—it was a struggle over the current. Rather than mana erupting outward, it spiraled inward toward the center.
He understood what that subtle difference truly ant in terms of the gulf between them.
‘I am the Knight Commander of The Richterkreutz. I swore vengeance for my n. And yet……’
Helmut watched Calix in silence, taking in the sight. It was while facing the Legion Commander that he had first felt it—that this man was sothing altogether different.
‘Is that even possible?’
At that mont, the exchange of blades ca to a stop. The two had been matching each other in a space barely half a step wide—then, at the sa instant, withdrew their weapons and pulled back. The air that had been drawing inward spilled back out, brushing against their cheeks.
Belgrado smiled, a beat later. Calix lowered his blade and steadied his breathing, a look of deep thought on his face. Helmut sensed that he had, once again, grasped sothing new.
***
"Clearly, you have touched the wall. Your adaptation and acceptance were flawless."
Belgrado's calm voice carried through the air.
"And yet—within that current, what were you trying to take for yourself?"
Calix turned the question over and over in his mind. The man's question was the very sa as his own dilemma.
‘From this point on, I must stand on my own. I cannot lean on the help of others.’
The answer was already known.
Receiving alone was not enough to move forward. He had to master both push and pull. He had to draw the current toward himself and regulate the rise and fall of the space as a whole.
A new dinsion of approach.
He had learned this truth within the sweep of the blade Belgrado had swung at him.
By then, the old man had slowly sheathed his sword.
"Knowing and doing are two different things."
Belgrado smiled brightly through his weathered face. Though his body was not whole—still carrying his wounds—he had found sufficient aning in what had passed between them.
"Now find your own law. So that you may ask before the enemy asks you."
Calix brought both hands together and dipped his head in a bow. He had gained much. The sensation he had felt just monts ago—the manner of drawing in—he would have to manifest it even more clearly.
And if he had managed it today—
‘He could bring it out again the next ti.’
So of the knights began to applaud; the rest gathered in small clusters to revisit Belgrado's teachings. Enlightennt belonged only to the instant it was born—it could not be carried in words.
It was precisely then.
Without warning, Calix turned his head and looked up beyond the horizon. Before long, a faint shadow appeared and swept a single arc across the snowfield. A black thread of a silhouette skimd over the top of a tent, and orange feathers ca fluttering down in a cascade.
A mass made up of thousands upon thousands of plus.
Calix recognized the color at a single glance.
Before long, with every gaze locked upon the figure, a mage descended to the earth. The scraps of feather gathered into one and the outline of a human being took shape. A pale face. Amber-colored eyes.
Airien murmured his na.
"The Wandering One—Cailo Pelderwin."
The air around them drew taut with tension. The knights raised their hands to their hilts as one, and the nobles who had been observing hastened from their seats. The Mountain Rabbits, on the other hand, rely shrugged. They had long since grown accustod to unannounced visitors.
"Verhas stirs in the east."
Cailo offered no greeting—he went straight to the matter at hand. Naturally, Calix was the only one present who grasped its full aning.
"Verhas—you an—"
"The Crushing Wall, Verhas. I speak of the servant of evil that ravages the lands of Kriya."
He swept his hand, scattering feathers across the ground. The orange spread and pooled below, casting the shape of the continent's northern reaches into view. The eastern territories of Niboria and the southern lands of Elvra rippled with darkness.
Hadiya stepped quietly to his side and murmured.
"Almost entirely consud. But there are still places holding out."
Just as she said, at the edge of the map, a faint light blinked on and off. Fragile yet distinct, the fla burned on.
Cailo added in brief.
"The children of Kriya hunger for hope. Whether you seek out the lighthouse of their souls, or reach a hand toward a wrecked ship—the choice is yours."
Imdiately after, Royce ca hurrying in from the interior of the encampnt. Yelayen followed close behind, exchanging a nod.
But Cailo stretched his hand toward the map with an impassive face. The feather fragnts moved once more. Across the whole of the north, the enemy's movents were laid out in clear detail.
"The path has already given its answer. All that remains is your step."
Calix, unmoved by the commotion around him, gazed quietly over the map. Before his eyes lay the most vivid intelligence he could have hoped for—the lands and armies of the Niboria Empire, and even the positions in which the eastern Legion Commander and his subordinates were deployed.
Volga offered a careful thought.
"Calix, a hungry spring is almost upon us. If we end up fighting again within the Empire, it will disrupt the harvest as well."
His eyes t Captain Royce's. Then, in turn, he exchanged a glance with the cleric, Sier Lagrin. The justification pointed in a single direction.
Again, Cailo asked.
"Man who has beco The Light of Dawn—what will you now bring to pass?"
The very edge of winter.
Calix looked up at the eastern sky. A faint shaft of light broke through between the clouds. That was his answer.
The ti to march had co.
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