Chapter 60
Chapter 60
Episode 60.
The Empire's East.
For an entire year, Aiden had spent his days staining his blade with black blood.
Driven by the single-minded determination to eradicate every last remnant of demons near the former duchy, he moved without rest.
Today, yet another village had been liberated. And this one was the last.
In what was once the duchy—now the holy land near Valenstahl—no trace of demons remained.
The same went for the Cult of the Demon God. The eastern region had become the cleanest territory in the empire.
Though the land remained barren due to the Giant's Forest, the people could finally breathe easy.
Most of the eastern residents wished to migrate to the holy land. However, they were still considered the property of their lords, and since the holy land's construction wasn't yet complete, relocation was impossible for now.
Aiden intended to accept them once the fortress was finished.
The lords wouldn't oppose it too strongly. After all, over the past year, the debt they owed Aiden was beyond measure.
Now, Aiden sat atop the roof of a stable in the liberated village, drinking water.
He had developed a habit of resting in high places.
The villagers, despite their poverty, kept offering him food and gifts, which made him uncomfortable.
Up here, at least, he could avoid the relentless shower of fruits and meals.
Occasionally, someone would still toss something up to him, but resisting that much persistence was beyond even Aiden's willpower.
So he bit into an apple. Fruit didn't grow in the east, making this a rare and precious gift.
As he chewed, his gaze drifted toward the strait where the Demon Realm had taken root. Though the Gray Barrier obscured the view, he could picture it clearly in his mind.
Would my current strength be enough to survive there? The thought crossed his mind briefly.
Aiden had grown far stronger than before. A year of relentless training had brought him to a level where he could at least endure the outskirts of the Demon Realm.
But he immediately shook his head.
Arrogance was dangerous. Though he was curious about the legacy Kadak had promised, now wasn't the time.
He needed to claim everything this continent had to offer before moving forward.
His thoughts were abruptly cut off by a dark shadow alighting softly beside him.
It was Siron.
"My lord, the Church has sent a messenger hawk."
A few months ago, she had sworn an oath of loyalty to Aiden.
An ordinary paladin couldn't form a master-servant bond with a Valkyrie. But Aiden, being of the Holy Race, was an exception.
Siron was both a Valkyrie of the gods and a knight of heroes.
"Read it first."
She nodded, then carefully unrolled the small scroll and began reading aloud.
Her eyes flickered slightly, and she let out a quiet sigh.
Given her reaction, there was only one possible news.
Siron looked at Aiden with uneasy eyes.
"...The Ains have begun moving south. The Eternal Snow Warfront is completely empty."
Aiden nodded calmly.
"Who is the Beast King?"
In the original story, the Beast King varied depending on the route. Aiden couldn't be certain.
"Fenrir. The descendant of the wolf that devoured the moon."
Aiden let out a dry laugh. This damned world had no intention of giving him an easy path.
Fenrir was one of the biggest reasons players quit the game.
By mortal standards, it was one of the five strongest creatures in the world—a beast nearly impossible to slay.
Aiden's expression darkened. To Siron, that look was unfamiliar.
She forced a smile and spoke.
"Don't worry. The Sword Saint who guards the north has slain Fenrir before. He can do it again."
Gielran Fenrir. When the Sword Saint was young, he had killed the alpha of the Black Wolves and taken its name.
Fenrir was a title passed down through generations, so calling the current Beast King by that name was somewhat inaccurate.
The Black Wolves would want that name back. There could not be two Fenrirs under the same sky.
But could Gielran keep his title? Aiden doubted it.
The Black Wolf alpha the Sword Saint had fought in the past hadn't been fully grown.
No human could stand against a mature alpha in direct combat and win.
In terms of sheer power, it was on par with Saya of the Four Tails.
In short—a calamity. An unavoidable obstacle that had to be faced head-on.
Aiden spoke.
"We must go north."
Siron nodded.
"We'll rendezvous with the forces at Sarchillie. The Church has already coordinated it."
It seemed they would be joining the war as well.
As Aiden stood, Siron hesitated, her lips twitching as if struggling to voice something difficult.
"Speak freely."
She nodded and carefully began.
"...What if the Nine-Tailed Fox could stop the Ains' advance? The Black Wolf is a canine beast, after all."
Aiden shook his head.
It was true that the Black Wolves revered the Nine-Tailed Fox. But Saya didn't yet have a divine throne.
She wasn't a true Nine-Tails. Even after a year, growing two more tails would be her limit.
"Impossible."
Siron had come to understand Aiden well.
When he spoke like this, he never explained his reasoning.
But his predictions were always right, so she didn't question him further.
She stood as well.
"The army has already crossed the Garman Plains."
Aiden immediately set off for the territory of Count Karshua.
A desolate wasteland was covered by eagles.
The banners of House Sarchillie flew high.
A force of over ten thousand stretched across the horizon, marching north.
Banners of subordinate houses dotted the formation, and carriages emblazoned with the sun emblem raced across the crimson earth.
Inside one such carriage, Yuriel sat with a slight pout.
This was all Aiden's fault.
For an entire year, he hadn't shown his face. Not only that—he had left without even a word on the day of his Holy Race inauguration.
She understood he was busy, but that didn't stop her from feeling slighted.
Yet despite everything, she still wanted to see him.
In fact, the reason she was traveling north with House Sarchillie was precisely because she wanted to accompany Aiden.
Her original family was House Sarchillie, so she had plenty of excuses to give the Church.
Yuriel sighed quietly, suddenly feeling a little pathetic for going this far.
But what else could she do? That stubborn man would never approach her unless she made the first move.
The moment he achieved his goal of the Divine Eye, he had cut all ties—proof enough of that.
Just as her expression turned gloomy, cheers erupted outside.
Yuriel immediately opened the window—and sure enough, Aiden was riding toward the formation.
Soldiers and knights alike shouted his name in unison.
Their eyes held admiration and reverence. Yuriel's gaze, however, was a mix of excitement and concern.
'Why is he injured again...?'
Aiden's face was covered in scars and fresh wounds.
He moved to the front, spoke with the commander for a while, then slowly approached the carriage.
Yuriel's plan had worked.
Aiden guided his horse alongside the carriage at a steady pace.
Then, looking at Yuriel, he spoke.
"Saintess, it's been a while. I heard you had something to say."
He hadn't changed at all.
"Will you listen from there?"
"I'll pass."
When Yuriel tried to stop the carriage, Aiden raised a hand to halt her.
Instead, he gave Petra's flank a light tap, then grabbed the carriage door handle.
"Move aside, please."
With that, he yanked the door open. A gust of wind rushed in, tousling Yuriel's hair as Aiden swiftly climbed inside.
The well-trained warhorse trotted off to its designated spot on its own.
Yuriel looked slightly flustered. Aiden met her gaze with an apologetic expression.
"I must reek. I'll leave soon."
He hadn't properly washed in weeks. By normal standards, few women could tolerate his stench.
But Yuriel shook her head without hesitation.
The nature of a foul odor changed depending on who carried it.
It was pungent, yes—but it was the scent of a man.
"Don't worry about it. More importantly, look at your face."
She closed the window, then reached out toward Aiden's scars.
When her fingertips brushed his skin, he turned his head slightly.
"There's no need for this."
"Stay still."
Her tone was firm enough that Aiden relented, letting her do as she pleased. Warm divinity flowed from her fingers, seeping into his wounds.
Yuriel stared at him with sorrowful eyes.
"You promised to be careful."
"The rest of me is fine."
"Take it off."
Aiden silently stared at her. Yuriel flushed red, realizing how her words sounded.
"Ah—no, I didn't mean... I just want to see your injuries."
"I'm really fine. More importantly, you said you had something to tell me."
Yuriel coughed lightly, dispelling her embarrassment. After a moment, she looked at him with a serious expression.
"...You've been refusing the First Princess' summons repeatedly."
Raphelia, the First Princess. Aiden had been deliberately avoiding her. Now wasn't the time to get entangled with her.
Yuriel continued in a concerned tone.
"Lord Aiden, don't provoke Her Highness too much. She's a truly terrifying person."
During her time as the daughter of House Sarchillie, Yuriel had been Raphelia's closest friend.
She knew the princess better than anyone.
When viewed through the Divine Eye, Raphelia was the only person whose exterior and interior perfectly matched.
A kind yet utterly ruthless human.
Yuriel had grown up watching how she treated those who fell out of her favor.
No matter how much of a hero Aiden was, crossing her would spell disaster.
Yuriel emphasized once more.
"Please, do not refuse Her Highness' request."
"I'll keep that in mind."
But Aiden had no choice. The moment he met the princess, he would be bound to the empire.
He needed more time. Until he found the leash to control her, he couldn't afford to meet her.
As Aiden fell into thought, Yuriel sighed softly.
"You really are consistent, my lord. You did the same to me, and now you're standing up even Her Highness..."
'Driving us all mad.' She swallowed the last words.
Aiden lowered his head slightly.
"I admit it. I've been discourteous."
With that, he gripped the door handle again.
"It's still a long way to the north. Rest well. I'll take my leave now."
Yuriel grabbed his arm with a resolute expression.
"No. You're staying here. I need to finish treating you, and I won't take no for an answer."
She was unwavering.
The breath of warhorses cut through the blizzard as it swept past the window.
Outside, the landscape had long since turned white.
The massive army had split into dozens of smaller units, dispersing across the northern border.
This land was too vast, and the Ains were advancing unpredictably—concentrating all forces in one place was impossible.
Aiden turned his gaze outside. A familiar sight—a small cabin emitting thin wisps of smoke.
The procession slowly came to a halt.
The moment the carriage door opened, a voice called out.
"Sir Aiden—!"
It was Yuron. He sprinted over, dropped to one knee, and bowed deeply.
"Have you been well?"
Aiden smiled faintly and helped him up.
"You've put on some muscle."
Yuron wiped his nose and grinned brightly.
"I still have a long way to go."
Aiden gave him a quick once-over. His keen eyes could roughly gauge Yuron's progress.
Remarkable growth. For just a year of training, his improvement was almost excessive.
Whatever hellish regimen he had endured, it had paid off.
Just then, the cabin door opened.
The Sword Saint emerged, hands clasped behind his back, and studied Aiden.
"Even now, you're a strange one. What have you been up to? You've filled your vessel quite a bit."
Gielran pointed at Yuron.
"I was going to have you spar with your squire. What a disappointment. Tch."
Yuron, however, looked hopeful. Aiden chuckled and nodded.
"Alright, let's see what you've got."
Yuron waved his hands dismissively as if it were absurd, but his eyes burned with determination.
Aiden took a few steps back and gestured for him to come.
Knights and soldiers paused their tasks, watching with interest.
"Ahem. Then, Sir Aiden... May I request a match?"
"Come at me."
Yuron bowed deeply.
"Forgive my rudeness!"
Then, he leveled his greatsword and slowly drew it.
A translucent ripple surged around him—aura.
Aiden smiled in satisfaction.