Chapter 63
Chapter 63
Episode 63.
Leaving the command tent, Aiden immediately headed for the stables located within the garrison.
He needed a horse for Gyeran to ride.
He called for the stablemaster, who was diligently cleaning horse dung.
The moment the man saw Aiden, he startled and repeatedly bowed his head.
"Oh my, Colonel-nim, what brings you to this humble place?"
"I heard the fastest horse in the battalion is here. Can I take it?"
Since there was no question it would be allowed, the man quickly opened one of the stalls.
A massive warhorse strode out. The stablemaster stroked the horse's muscles with a rather proud expression.
"This fellow rivals even the improved breeds from the Church. His name is Taikan. Once you get him running, you'll be amazed."
Aiden had no need to ride Taikan—he had Petra. The same went for Siron.
Gyeran looked the horse up and down before nodding approvingly.
"That one's got a fine build. Should run well."
With that, Gyeran leaped onto Taikan's back, looking quite satisfied. Aiden turned to the stablemaster.
"I'll return him later."
"No need, sir. I'll come retrieve him myself."
Aiden nodded and mounted Petra.
"Siron, do you have the Beast's Scent?"
It was a perfume used by the Execution Squad to mask human scent when exterminating beastkin tribes.
"Plenty bottled and ready."
"Good. Let's go."
They headed straight for the border.
*At the northernmost edge of the Empire, a previously nonexistent wall now rose to mark the border. Though less than 5 meters tall, the low stone barrier served as an effective defensive wall since it stood atop a sheer cliff.
Numerous troops were mobilized to complete the construction when Aiden arrived. The soldiers welcomed him with bright faces and loud cheers.
The moment Deril and Sein heard the cheers, they whipped their heads around.
A floating boulder tumbled into the ravine with a crash—Deril's chains had snapped.
"Colonel-nim!"
"Paladin!"
The siblings sprinted over and stopped before Aiden.
Dismounting, Aiden looked at them with a faint smile.
"Sein, you've grown so much I barely recognize you."
Children grew faster than time itself, and her magical achievements far outpaced even that.
She was no talent to be wasted stacking stones.
Aiden gently ruffled Sein's hair. She giggled, drawing happy arcs in the air with her fingers.
"You've become even more dashing, Paladin. I've lost count of how many times I've reread the scriptures."
He thought the scriptures contained content unsuitable for a child's emotions. But Sein was an exception—she had no childhood innocence to speak of.
Aiden nodded.
"Thank you. Though I see you're doing labor fit for Deril here."
"Hehe, Oppa kept trying to sneak away, so I had to supervise—"
"Sein!"
Deril clapped a hand over his sister's mouth and laughed awkwardly.
"Haha, Colonel-nim. This Deril would sooner be crushed by rocks than turn tail and run. You know that better than anyone."
Aiden tapped his shoulder.
"Yuron's gotten quite strong. Haven't you been surpassed yet?"
Deril grinned.
"Like I said before, that guy was always called a prodigy. Yuron's still no match for me."
Bragging about talent before the Sword Saint. Gyeran might have scoffed, but he remained silent—even the Sword Saint acknowledged the siblings' gifts. They didn't inherit the Archmage's bloodline for nothing.
Deril puffed out his chest.
"I'll prove myself in this war. Don't forget the dagger you promised me, Colonel-nim."
Aiden smiled and nodded.
"Good. I'm glad you're both doing well. We'll catch up properly after the war. Sein."
Aiden looked at her.
"Can you handle warmth magic?"
"I mastered it months ago. I've been tending to the northern horses too."
Aiden pointed to the three horses and Siron.
"They'll need to withstand the depths of the Eternal Snowfield. I leave it to you."
Sein nodded.
For her now, it was child's play. A magic circle unfolded in the air, and mana enveloped the horses and Siron.
Aiden and Gyeran needed no such magic—their bodies were unaffected by climate.
"Done."
It took but a moment.
Aiden immediately mounted Petra and looked at Deril.
"I need to head out."
Deril shouted to someone, and the iron gate clanked open.
The ravine came into view. A frigid wind howled through the gap.
"Colonel-nim, I don't know the details, but please be careful. Ran into a few of them out there—they were downright vicious."
"Don't worry."
With that, Aiden passed through the gate toward the makeshift bridge spanning the ravine.
A soon-to-be-dismantled structure. The moment the horses' hooves touched it, the crude iron plates creaked and trembled precariously.
Like prey being tossed into the ravine's gaping maw.
But the abyss wouldn't be swallowing Aiden today.
The beasts would. This gorge would become the beastkin's grave.
Aiden carefully guided the horses across.
After traversing the bridge, the hooves finally crunched onto snow again. The Eternal Snowfield. The temperature plummeted abruptly.
The weather was clear, revealing a world blanketed in pure white.
If this climate held, it'd be ideal—but another blizzard could strike anytime.
They had considerable distance to cover, so they quickened their pace.
*Deep within the Eternal Snowfield.
At the northernmost edge of the continent, where the snowfields ended and glaciers began, stood a massive ice fortress.
This structure was an artistic masterpiece no beast could ever construct.
Thus, the beastkin believed spirits had crafted this ice castle.
They also believed their gods slumbered here in eternal hibernation. The beasts held this faith unquestioningly.
They were wrong.
The ice fortress was neither a hibernation site nor built by their gods.
It was merely a prison and execution ground.
The spirits defeated by Vacheksar awaited judgment here.
Unaware, the beastkin came here to pray for hunting success.
Only each tribe's chieftain could visit.
A massive tiger standing on two legs—the Mountain Lord. A rabbit with ears longer than its body—the Cave King. A lion with a golden mane the size of a house. A white bear barely containing its excitement.
Countless other chieftains gathered at the ice fortress.
Each worshipped the gods in their own way.
Their gazes fell upon the prison.
Beings trapped within massive, transparent ice. Gods frozen solid for two centuries couldn't answer their followers' prayers.
The tiger spoke.
"Is Fenrir outside?"
The lion snorted.
"Obviously. He can't even enter."
The black wolf stripped of the name Fenrir had no right to visit the ice fortress. Even as the Beast King.
Nor did he need to—the one he worshipped wasn't here. Among the beastkin gods, only the Nine-Tailed Fox wasn't imprisoned here.
Chieftains finished their prayers and began rising.
The snow leopard stretched luxuriously.
"Let's each enjoy ourselves. Understood?"
The lion growled, glaring at her.
"Stay out of my way. If our hunting grounds overlap, your kin will be torn apart too."
"What the fuck did you just say?"
As the snow leopard's curse provoked the lion, the Mountain Lord slammed the ground. The ice cracked.
"Enough."
The tiger's yellow eyes pinned them down.
Under the crushing pressure, the two fell silent.
They could only grimace. The white bear gave them a disdainful look and strode off first.
One by one, they left the ice fortress. They'd now head for the Empire. The day of festival. The beasts' eyes burned with madness.
Meanwhile, Aiden's group observed this from a nearby snowfield.
Only Aiden's vision could reach that far—Gyeran and Siron saw nothing.
Aiden spoke.
"Elder, they've all left."
The Sword Saint nodded and stood.
"Carry me."
Aiden's massive frame climbed onto the small old man's back. To Siron, the sight was absurdly mismatched.
Almost comical, but she stifled her laughter. Aiden told her:
"If beasts appear, let none escape. And never lose the horses."
"Don't worry. I'll guard them with my life."
Aiden turned to Gyeran.
"Elder, we can go now."
The instant he finished speaking, the Sword Saint stepped forth.
Weaving effortlessly through dense trees, he descended the mountainside at blinding speed. Like a ghost—no sound, no presence.
Aiden's dynamic vision barely kept up with the whirling scenery.
Reaching the distant ice fortress took mere moments.
Aiden couldn't help but marvel. The pinnacle of humanity moved on another level entirely.
Gyeran exhaled roughly as he gazed at the resplendent structure.
"I've gotten old."
Aiden dismounted immediately.
"Not at all. If anything, I feel how far I still have to go."
"Don't lie. You know your own limits better."
Gyeran's hot breath dispersed into the icy wind.
"I'm still lacking. More importantly, Elder. Place it against that spot."
The massive ice gate bore countless tooth marks.
Aiden pointed to one.
Gyeran inserted the fang of the previous black wolf chieftain into the groove.
With a smooth sound, the gate opened.
Gyeran eyed Aiden skeptically.
"Did you receive divine revelation or something?"
"Something like that. Let's enter."
Despite its majestic exterior, the interior was hollow. No floors—just endlessly high ceilings.
Nothing but a massive glacier at the far end.
That was enough.
Aiden and Gyeran walked slowly across the transparent ice.
Four beasts were frozen solid inside the glacier, like taxidermied specimens.
Permafrost—an eternal prison that never melted.
Gyeran chuckled as he observed the prisoners.
"Spirits. Vacheksar left them breathing."
"Correct."
Aiden produced the Divine Vessel.
"And now it's time for them to die."
Infused with holy power, white light pierced the ice.
The permafrost emitted bone-chilling cold in resistance, but soon faltered.
The glacier melted weakly, then collapsed like a waterfall onto Gyeran and Aiden.
But the floor's frigid air refroze the water instantly.
With a splash, the prisoners fell.
Aiden shattered the ice clinging to his feet and approached them.
He stacked the limp, lifeless gods like logs.
Raised his holy sword.
And brought it down hard. Thud! The gods' heads rolled to a stop at Gyeran's feet.
The severed necks froze instantly, not even bleeding.
The Sword Saint's face twisted in shock.
Aiden couldn't see his expression—countless messages were flooding his vision.
[Authority, Godslayer, Bloomed.] He nodded as he read the text.
Excerpt from Faydna's Scriptures:
"Weep. No, howl. Bare your belly and beg. How dull. Instead, live. Live to bring about deicide. My herald shall claim it."
— Vacheksar Year 176, Holy Vacheksar Gospel.