Chapter 157: Shadows on the Walls
The pale light of dawn swept across the ice at an angle.
After Cailo delivered his news and departed, the Alliance Forces brought their brief respite of just over two months to a close, and began the march with heavy steps. The road leading east. The Minebris River still bore a thin crust of ice, yet the soldiers gathered from across the empire pressed forward with vigor.
Calix led the army from the head of the column, with Sier Lagrin drawing close to whisper. As the one who led the Order, there were matters to be discussed regarding the reclamation of territory.
"Rescuing the isolated faithful is important, of course. But we cannot overlook the Soul Beacon either."
"Is it sothing that must take precedence over saving the survivors?"
"……Perhaps so."
What the mage had ntioned earlier ca flowing back.
One was the Soul Beacon; the other was the regional strongholds barely holding on. Calix looked his companion in the face and demanded an answer.
Sier continued, his expression grave.
"The Soul Beacon is a sacred site of the Kriya Order. It lights the path for the dead and serves as a rallying point to gather the living. Even malevolent beings would not dare set foot near it. Above all, there will be survivors from the Order still sheltering within."
On the surface, it made sense.
"We could also use it as a supply base for our forces."
"Indeed."
Yet Calix did not take what he heard at face value. People shifted their words according to their own interests. Even one who held the title of Acting Pope was no different at heart.
Confirming the truth was not difficult.
'Ella is avoiding my eyes.'
Calix knew that Sier was acting out of greed. Even so, knowing this, he did not grow angry. By now, he understood as well.
There were no choices that could serve everyone.
At that mont, Royce pulled on his reins and stepped in on his behalf.
"It feels a touch early to be setting objectives just yet."
"But—"
"Isn't it ultimately a matter of how we deal with the Legion Commander?"
At this, Ranakk, son of Great Chief Kalahim, gave a nod. Varga, a mber of the investigation party, added his support with practiced eloquence.
"With Great Chief Yoman having secured his victory, the situation in the southern reaches of the continent can breathe a little easier as well. As you say, whether we can hold back the Legion Commander is what will determine the outco of this war."
Those nearby each added their own opinions, and it quickly grew clamorous. Olek, son of Duke Akron, argued for moving with caution, while the Dwarf Nuri Sarui raised the prospect of a direct confrontation.
The Mountain Rabbits, too, had sent no small number of their own to their graves along the way.
"Bel Haim, son of Valo Haim, was buried on a mountain slope. The Elves crumbled beneath the weight of ti. Niyan Storal of Wesaria, Lauren of Albant, and countless others have died. It is ti we all spoke plainly. This war must be ended quickly. If it is not, we will exhaust ourselves before the malevolent ones even descend upon us."
At his words, the marching column ca to a brief halt. The Dwarf's statent was cold, but it was also an undeniable truth.
Calix turned his head and looked back.
The Mountain Rabbits and the rcenaries who followed him were arrayed behind. The armor worn by the Niboria knights glead, and the soldiers who had not yet lost their courage shone with determination in their eyes.
After completing the reorganization, the Alliance Forces totaled thirty-five thousand in all. They were called the finest fighting force, yet viewed from the other side, there was no next ti.
"Those are wise words. A single defeat is tantamount to the fall of Niboria itself—defeat, therefore, cannot be permitted."
Remarkably, Marquis Ashapel answered. He surveyed the high-ranking nobles around him and pressed for agreent in a manner that was half a threat.
They were all aboard the sa vessel, after all.
The vessel captained by Calix, known by the na Mountain Rabbits.
"Truer words could not be spoken. Any man of Niboria must fight with everything he has."
"It is an honor, if anything."
As the nobles chid in one after another, the group was about to resu the steps they had halted—when Yelayen produced a lump of charcoal and tossed it forward.
Whoosh.
He swept his hand in quick succession, and a thin wind blew, scattering the powder. A familiar shape took form in midair. It was the map of the northern continent, as Mage Cailo had described.
He swept the tip of his staff, and a golden light seeped through the charcoal dust. Hush, hush—lines like veins were etched across the map.
Calix watched as it seed to narrow in, expanding as though closing in on a single point. One region transford into a plain blanketed by mountain terrain. Then the battlefield ca into view, smothered in forest, the forces of darkness, and barriers.
"Starting from here."
Yelayen indicated the first line. The powdered terrain responded and sank inward.
"Snor Pass."
He pointed to the second location.
"Arde Plain."
Then the third.
"Elga Gorge."
Each ti his gaze landed, the powder trembled faintly. The passes and plains on the map darkened as though ink had been dropped upon them.
"These three places are the paths Legion Commander Verhas has traveled. They are still being pressed down."
The murmuring of the nobles faded.
"……Pressed down, you say?"
Volga tilted his head and asked again.
"It ans the weight of the earth has shifted."
Yelayen swept his other hand outward, and a thick line rose up like a standing stone.
"It has tilted in the direction where Verhas stands."
When that na was spoken, tal rings clattered from sowhere behind. The Dwarves who had joined the Mountain Rabbits all displayed expressions of open displeasure in unison. The Dwarf Basim pulled at the bridge of his nose and bared his teeth.
"Hmph, truth be told, that na is quite familiar to us. The boar that crushes the ore veins. Long ago, they say he collapsed the mines of our ancestors."
Yelayen glanced toward them, then nodded in silence.
"Correct. He is a being born carrying the essence of the earth within him."
He gathered a portion of the powder and bunched it together like a cloud. Soon a wind carried it across the map, and a marker representing warhorses appeared.
The thick line signifying the knights of the Holy Empire advanced halfway, then bent limply and broke.
"Horses cannot run, and blades are dragged toward the ground. The feet of n grow slow, and when the fighting is done, the entire battlefield is swallowed in silence."
Volga swallowed.
"……Is it magic? No—a curse?"
"Neither, and yet both."
At the cryptic words, Calix fixed his gaze on Yelayen. The mage was looking up at the eastern sky, far in the distance.
"He has taken the blood of the earth into himself. So long as he stands, rock becos his bones and soil becos his flesh. In the places his footsteps have passed, none remain. Those who try to retreat will be broken where they stand."
Accounts from survivors followed in turn. Clerics of the Kriya Order poured out the testimonies of what they had witnessed and endured.
"Even in the height of sumr, the earth shuddered as though shivering from cold. Few could stand under their own strength. The charge of the Holy Knight Order…… Broke from the very start."
"When the great wall ca crashing in, the cowards were swept aside and the courageous were all lted away. In the places where the fighting ended, not even a trace was left."
Calix listened carefully to their accounts. He breathed in shallow sips, lest he miss even one word. Royce, Marik, Hadiya, and the other Mountain Rabbits were focused as well.
Then Yelayen opened his mouth again.
This ti, it was an unmistakable warning.
"Rember its other na."
"……The Crushing Wall, Verhas."
"Yes. It makes the enemy's soul into its own shadow. You must shatter that false mask. Naturally, fear is of no help whatsoever. Right now, rather……"
Calix took up the rest of the words.
"How to win. That is what we must think about."
Yelayen looked directly at him. A trace of amusent lingered in those clear eyes. It was a strange emotion—proud, and yet sohow sorrowful.
After a brief pause, the mage looked straight ahead and offered one final hint.
"Tear him away from the earth."
His fingertip pressed against the end of a line.
"When he loses the ground beneath his feet, it is in that mont his breath will stop."
Calix sensed that no further answer would co, and closed his mouth. In his stead, the Dwarf Basim muttered.
"Breath, earth, na. That creature stole three things from the Dwarves, but we only need to reclaim one of them."
"Which one do we reclaim?"
"The na, obviously."
Volga made a show of marveling at his master's answer, then ended up talking back all the sa.
"But don't you need to breathe first before you can say a na? That seems odd……"
"……"
"No, it was just a passing thought—aaaugh!! Why is it always just who gets it!!"
While master and student launched into a chase, Calix exchanged a glance with Royce. What this campaign was for, and what preparations needed to be made, had beco clear.
Yet he knew.
'I must establish my own set of principles.'
Yelayen was bound by the laws of the world. Master Sevi Belgrado's injuries ran deep. He would therefore have to prepare to face what lay ahead by his own strength, without relying on anyone else's aid.
Before that, however, Calix found himself caught off guard by an unexpected presence.
As the sun crossed over the mountain peaks, a column of dust rose from the eastern horizon. A scouting party was dispatched to identify them, and shortly after, a brief report from Hadiya followed.
"It appears to be the remnant forces of the Eastern Nobles. Their numbers are roughly eighteen thousand. But Calix—those people are flying the banner of the Niboria Imperial House."
"……"
Sothing had gone wrong.
***
Late in the afternoon, the two armies ford their lines across the plain. The Captain, Royce, looked out at the opposing side and raised an eyebrow.
"There are more of them than I expected."
"Their quality will be equally lower, I imagine. There is no way this many troops could still be left in eastern Niboria."
Vice-captain Marik was right. Calix gazed across the plain to the other side. Formations in disarray. The soldiers standing at the front looked about with bewildered expressions. Anyone could see they had been dragged here by force.
The colors he perceived confird it as well.
'Sothing is wrong here. The best among them is a mid-rank Neural Accelerator user, and the majority don't even have that much.'
The enemy soldiers had co to the battlefield with nothing but the weapons they had been handed. For what purpose, exactly? That answer would co directly from the ssenger on the opposing side.
"In the na of the Caracal Imperial House, we declare: cease this foreign war and withdraw your forces. Any troops that fail to comply with the orders of the Royal Central Army—"
Master Sevi Belgrado closed his eyes quietly as he listened. The Mountain Rabbits let out hollow laughs of disbelief, and the nobles shook their heads in refusal.
There was no doubt that Darvan Caracal, the Emperor's firstborn son, had gone mad.
"I had heard that the nobles drove him out of the capital……"
Volga muttered under his breath, but Calix fixed his gaze on soone who might know the real reason. Adrian had been wearing a crooked smile since before this all began.
The mont he felt the eyes directed at him, he waved a hand in dismissal.
"Regrettably, this is not my handiwork. I might go this far for a dangerous figure, but there is no need to bring this low soone who amounts to nothing. At least, that is my thinking."
"Then?"
"Why are you acting like this? You already know."
Adrian made a gesture as if to say ‘stop pretending otherwise’, and jerked his chin toward the nobles at the rear. Those who had insisted they could not stay out of the war against the forces of evil, and had followed all the way to this point. Among them, the presence of Marquis Ashapel stood out above the rest.
A few words had been enough to stir the nobles under his influence into an atmosphere of condemnation. They called Darvan Caracal a traitor to the empire and argued he must be suppressed imdiately.
Like a well-made wheel, the current of events interlocked and turned.
Marquis Ashapel acting on his own was unpleasant, but it had brought with it an opportunity to cut off even the faintest remaining possibility. If Darvan Caracal were killed here and now, the imperial throne would remain unmistakably vacant until the war's end.
At this, Calix recalled the counsel of the Lord of the Desert—Yoman.
'Will you beco the protagonist of a story, or remain a lord of reality?'
He made his decision shortly after.
He acknowledged that this had beco sothing that could not be undone, and ordered the cavalry to be made ready. In its place, he also called for Marquis Ashapel separately.
It was a warning.
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