Chapter 32
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 32
Chapter Title: The Sole Variable
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The Light Dragon City, <Haraldoniki>.
The Papal Office, 99th Floor, Hall of Dragon Spirits.
Details of the war, both great and small, converged here. Here, the golden True Dragons assessed the war's progress and direction, making decisions of great import.
“Reporting!”
A griffin rider, the chill still clinging to his goggles, knelt with his hands respectfully clasped.
“With the aid of Lord Mirngadia of the Blue Star, the Kerkunude withdrawal was a success. All remaining troops and refugees, excluding those who fell during the defensive operation, have been transported to Talia Island.”
The True Dragons let out exclamations, forgetting for a moment to maintain their primordial dignity.
Rescuing the Eastern Front's forces from Kerkunude was more than just a successful preservation of troops.
This victory held a much greater, deeper meaning. It would serve as grand propaganda, directly boosting military morale.
「Speak in detail. What chaos? What exactly transpired leading up to this victory?」
The rider lifted his head at Cardinal Hagon's question.
“First, a strategy devised by Ria Raily, apprentice to Sharon Alter Tassalpo, successfully defended a front on the verge of annihilation.”
「A very bright child.」
“However, the chief of the Tahup clan joined the battle, inflicting heavy losses on the defenders. Nearly eighty percent of our forces were killed.”
「I see. And Sharon... was her body recovered?」
“She is alive.”
「What?」
The cardinals' gazes sharpened.
It was a well-known fact that Sharon's body and dragon spirit had already reached their limits.
The tale of her surviving while leading a victory against the combined assault of the Uruk army, led by High Kun Tark, was utterly preposterous.
Hadn't Sharon herself been prepared to die when she was stationed at Kerkunude? Inrahit, who had been watching the clouds drift by the window, asked.
「What happened?」
“Kaisen Alter Aradamanthel charged in alone, cut down three thousand members of the Tahup clan, and beheaded the Tahup Chief, shattering the enemy! This story has caused an explosive surge in the army's morale.”
The cardinals' eyes wavered. Inrahit's pupils dilated.
Their gazes shifted abruptly to Cardinal Yoshuhar.
Their old friend, Yoshuhar, had slammed his fist on the armrest of his chair and shot to his feet. His body was trembling with a great tremor.
‘The child Raminea bore and Camilla raised...’
Cardinal Farem, the first to regain his composure, spoke.
「Before it's too late, summon Sharon and her apprentice to the Papal Office. We must prepare for the succession ceremony.」
“Yes, Your Eminence.”
「This war is still but a prelude. Relay this to command: Kaisen Alter Aradamanthel is to be placed at the core of the Talia Island defense line.」
The Slaying of Three Thousand,
The Kerkunude Withdrawal (7)
Consciousness slowly returned with the gentle caress of a warm breeze on the tip of his nose.
It was a refreshing air, impossible to feel amidst the storms of volcanic ash in the heart of summer.
He lay in a sickbed, dressed in patient's clothes. At the foot of the bed, Ria was kneeling, asleep with her head resting on her arms.
“She's exhausted from watching over you all night. You should feel honored to be cared for like this by a woman like Ria.”
He shifted his gaze lightly toward the voice.
Through the window, he saw the back of Sharon Alter Tassalpo as she watched the reddening twilight.
She was seated in a wheeled chair, her movement seemingly impaired, but she was alive. She was alive.
“How many days was I asleep?”
“Three. What happened to you? If you hadn't woken up by today, I would have had to leave for the Papal Office without you.”
When he explained this peculiar way of using his dragon spirit, Sharon was amazed.
“So Lord Yoshuhar himself... you were able to wield such immense power.”
“The risk is great, too. During training, I'd only lose consciousness for one to four hours. A real battle must be different.”
“It's not that a real battle is different, it's that you fought so hard you overloaded your dragon spirit. You pushed yourself to the absolute limit. And thanks to that, I'm still alive.”
He stared blankly as Sharon turned her chair. From the hair on her head to her eyelashes, every strand had faded to a near-ashen color.
His gaze lingered longest on the chair. The wheeled chair. Did this mean she could no longer even walk?
As if reading the emotion in his eyes, Sharon rolled her chair closer.
“Don't look at me like that. I had already given up on this life.”
“But...”
“Yes, but thanks to you, I'll now be able to see Ria inherit the Holy Sword. I haven't seen it yet, but I'll cling to life with all my might until then.”
Sharon stopped her chair by the head of the bed and gently patted the cheek of her old friend's beloved apprentice with a gaunt hand.
“After that, I suppose I'll go to see Camilla.”
“...”
“I'll tell her this when I see her. 'Camilla, did you know? Your apprentice is just as much of an eccentric as you... but he's also become a warrior every bit as magnificent.'”
The name Camilla sent a miserable, pale, yet mystical shiver through his body.
For a moment, he wondered how nice it would have been if his own farewell with his master could have been this peaceful.
He imagined the look on Camilla's face when he had emerged with snow-white hair, Aradamanthel at his waist.
“Camilla wouldn't have taught you these things, so I'll teach you instead. Kaisen, make it a habit to always ponder what it means to be a 'true warrior.'”
A true warrior...
Hiding his impossible dream, he took Sharon's wrist and gave a quiet nod.
“You've endured so much until now. Please, rest easy.”
That was his final farewell to his late master's sworn friend.
After Sharon left, pushing her chair with the sleeping Ria in her arms, he grabbed Aradamanthel, which had been leaning against the bed, and went outside.
A clear sea breeze touched his face, and he unknowingly wrinkled his nose at the sharp scent of the ocean.
Talia Island.
A large island that served geographically as a port of call between the Blade Peninsula and the continent. More specifically, he was at a villa of the Ginaris monarchy.
The villa was built on high ground, so as he leaned against the edge of the colonnade, he had a clear view of the port to the southwest.
“...”
The port was teeming with refugees.
Ever since the day his mother died, seeing children toddling along, holding their parents' hands, would bring tears to his eyes for no reason.
Each time, he would have to clutch his chest and gasp for breath until the raging wave of hyperventilation subsided.
‘It hurts.’
A hole...
There's a hole in my chest...
‘It hurts so much I can't breathe.’
This hole.
It burns fiercely whenever the scent of my mother overlaps with a corner of my daily life.
‘To think it hasn't healed, even after gaining the body of a FakeWarrior...’
To calm his breathing, he drew his mother's shortsword from its sheath with a soft *shing*.
The blade, reflecting the crimson twilight, seemed to whisper with the deep-seated stench of blood it held.
That the nightmares yet to be slain were near, still flooding in, endlessly blanketing the world.
An echo of the distant past.
Rage, grief, and nightmares...
A voice cut through the lingering traces of that past.
「Kaisen Alter Aradamanthel.」
He flinched and raised his head. Before him stood pure white.
「Had you recovered enough to move, it would have been good for you to show your face at the victory celebration. It would have been a great comfort to many.」
Even the lingering ring of the sword sliding into its sheath seemed to be dyed white.
Truly, everything about him was white.
Not just physical features like his hair and eyebrows, but even abstract things like his expression, his aura, his voice—all were white.
The color was sacred and noble.
Even without that lofty dignity, he would have recognized the stature the man had built and knelt first.
「Do not kneel.」
Mirngadia of the Blue Star.
One of the Three Great Dragons who had watched over this world since the death of the Dragon Lord, Rain Ludwig.
「There is no need to show me such courtesy.」
The prestige of the Three Great Dragons was legendary, both inside and outside the military.
Mirngadia, in particular, was famous for leading the elves on the Idea Peninsula to annihilate the main force of the sixth great demon tribe, Necron: the legion of the undead.
Such a being had now graced him with his presence. Mirngadia recognized Kaisen and, with a single gesture, dismissed the palace guards who had also dropped to their knees upon seeing him.
When Kaisen hesitated, not daring to rise, Mirngadia raised an eyebrow in amusement.
「You have your mother's looks, but your master's personality. Had it been your mother, she would have nonchalantly asked why I came empty-handed instead of bringing something to eat.」
“You knew my mother?”
「I knew all your ancestors. All the way back to the Dragon Lord, Rain Ludwig.」
Like a pure white that permitted no stain, a ripple of grief briefly passed over Mirngadia's otherwise expressionless face.
He had heard something before, during his journey to the Blade Peninsula after Camilla's death.
Johan Wolf Frost had made a fuss, telling Kaisen he was born of a great lineage.
- The commander was Ludwig's successor. Do you know what that means? A direct descendant of the Dragon Lord! Kaisen, that means you're his descendant, too!
It was an utterly surreal story, and because it was so surreal, it hadn't sunk in. So he had pushed the words away.
His mother was just his mother.
That alone was magnificent.
He didn't want to attribute it to things like her bloodline or her being the descendant of a great man.
“I didn't attend the celebration because I didn't know what there was to celebrate. So many people died.”
「It seems you've forgotten that you cut down the Tahup.」
“I only did what I had to as a man who carries a sword.”
「Then was this, too, merely something that had to be done? Can you dismiss it so cleanly, as if cutting it with a sword?」
Just then, Mirngadia took something from his robes. It was a moldy, rotten piece of wood.
Were they unable to find paper?
Scrawled upon it in the clumsy vernacular of a child were crooked letters.
Hello.
Thanks to you, Warrior-nim, I got to eat with my mom again today.
I heard you were sick, Warrior-nim, but they said I couldn't see you, so I'm leaving this letter with the soldier.
You are my hero, Warrior-nim. Thank you.
Was it truly a coincidence that, just then, his own younger self was superimposed on the back of the child leaving the port?
A coincidence...
Was it really... a coincidence?
「Kaisen, you misunderstand something. A victory celebration is not merely a place to praise achievements.」
In the sea breeze, Mirngadia's white hair and robes billowed and danced quietly as he gazed at the distant horizon.
Seabirds landed beside him.
They were impossibly reverent for mere beasts, as if prostrating themselves before an absolute being.
「It is a place to speak to those who could not stand on the battlefield, to the pitiful souls who had no choice but to abandon everything precious and flee.」
It's okay. The night is ending. The nightmare is fading.
One step at a time.
So don't worry. It's okay to hold onto hope instead of struggling in despair...
「The victory you achieved at Kerkunude resonated as such a hope for many. Engrave this deed into your soul as a source of pride.」
As he finished speaking, stroking the head of a seabird, a faint smile touched Mirngadia's lips.
“...”
He could only lower his head blankly, avoiding the gaze of the pure white dragon-man.
Such...
Could his perception truly reach so far? It was something his ignorant mind had never even imagined.
「Shall we get to the main point? The reason I waited for you to awaken was to confirm your will.」
“My will...?”
「Do you know why I sent this clone body here? When the war on the Idea Peninsula itself is not yet settled? It is because of the decisive battle on the Central Front.」
The Central Front had been the fiercest battlefield on the continent since the collapse of the Inferno Line.
Setsunen of Thunderous Fragrance, the second of the Three Great Dragons, was at the center of the effort, defending the line.
Many FakeWarriors had also been dispatched there; not only the current second and third seats, but Seira and Ophelia as well, had been sent there immediately after their appointments.
“A decisive battle? Are you serious?”
Since the war began in 1692, humanity had avoided decisive battles.
Due to the overwhelming difference in military strength against the Abyss, they did not want their forces to be wiped out in a single engagement.
Humanity had opted for a strategy of extreme attrition, buying time in the hopes that the enemy's supply lines would be cut in a foreign land.
The Abyss, on the other hand, wanted a decisive battle.
What could this be, if not playing right into the enemy's hands?
「My father—the Dragon Lord, that is—used to explain every problem through mathematics. Sitting across a table just like this.」
It was a story from a very distant past.
The depth of the ages was difficult to fathom, but the longing in his voice was palpable.
「The days when FakeWarriors were called an asymmetrical force are over. They have long since been standardized. They are equivalent to one or two brigades—a force of at least four thousand to eight thousand soldiers. The enemy calculates their strength in the same way. But what about you?」
“Pardon?”
「Did you not receive a fragment from both the Elder Yoshuhar and the Light Dragon Haraderiman? No one can calculate your potential.」
This was the first he'd heard of it.
A fragment of the Light Dragon? Did that mean the fragment from Yoshuhar wasn't all I received?
「You can draw upon the power of a True Dragon and a God Dragon for roughly three minutes, correct?」
“Yes.”
「That is why your strength is a variable. The one and only variable that can be inserted into this world's mathematical equation, which otherwise yields only the result of despair.」
His ignorant mind found it hard to grasp why such a long preamble was necessary for this story.
But the thrill of battle...
The shudder of fate that washed over his entire body—he could feel it implicitly, no, *distinctly*.
「And I wish to input that variable into the equation for the Central Front.」
“What exactly do you want from me?”
「We leave for the Red Mountains at dawn. The Eastern Marshal, Krauzan, and the Papal Elders wish to keep you here, but the Central Front is what's important now, not the East. If we can annihilate the enemy's main force, we will be able to view humanity's fate from a more multidimensional perspective. Decide now, son of the Crimson Lotus, Kaisen. On which front do you wish to stand?」
He could hear fate beckoning.
He could hear the echo of the sword in his heart.
And then, faster than the quiet thrumming of his pulse, he heard the cry of Aradamanthel.
His mouth opened of its own accord.
At that moment, it felt as if it wasn't he who was answering, but the sword within his heart.
“Lord Mirngadia, give the FakeWarrior his orders.”