Chapter 33
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 33
Chapter Title: The Battle for the Crimson Mountains (1)
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The Crimson Mountains.
Originally a sacred range where the Fire Dragon Vel’dakidun and his legion of red dragons resided, it has protected humanity since the Age of Origin.
Its heavenly, perilous terrain blocked all invasions from outside forces.
With its heaven-blessed spiritual energy, it absorbed the Abyss, preventing the influence of corruption from reaching the civilized world.
“Such dictionary definitions were only valid up to five years ago.”
In the year 1692, when the ‘Red Summer’ began.
Mirngadia of the Blue Star undertook the task of fortifying the entire Crimson Mountains.
The total length of the stone walls built along the mountain ridges was 9,842 *ri*.
The natural beauty of the northern slopes was sectioned off and cleared.
In the empty spaces where nature once stood, military facilities like steam-powered automated stairs, moving walkways, and elevators were installed.
“This allowed the fortresses on each peak to operate not as individual points, but as a continuous line. It had become a truly impassable fortress.”
The southern slopes were carved into steep valleys, reinforcing them as natural moats, and the forests were cleared to secure clear lines of fire.
“All of this was accomplished in just three years. History calls this place the Three-Year Fortress.”
This was that very Three-Year Fortress.
The stage where Kaisen Alter Aradamanthel would fight for a year, on humanity's final line of defense during the Red Summer.
And the backdrop against which that hero's sorrowful adolescence would come to an end.
The Prologue to an All-Out War,
The Battle for the Crimson Mountains (1)
At dawn the next day, Kaisen was ordered by Mirngadia of the Blue Star to deploy the Iron Cross Knights and headed for the central front.
After landing on the mainland via steamship, he boarded the transcontinental train, the ‘Vat’, and crossed the mountain passes of the Crimson Mountains.
It was said to be customary for transcontinental trains to be named after famous adventurers.
Vat was a companion of the Dragon Hero, Rain Ludwig, who had made a name for himself in the battle to subjugate the Spider Lord.
‘Companion.’
The word felt less like a part of language and more like a blade piercing his chest.
Could he ever make companions in the life ahead of him?
If he did, the world was cruel, so they would die again, and another hole would be torn in his heart…
Could I endure that?
It seemed unlikely.
Kaisen glanced at Isla, who was snoring with her head resting on his shoulder.
Isla mumbled names in her sleep, like ‘Kasena,’ ‘Prisvia,’ ‘Aki,’ or ‘Ryunel.’
She slept a great deal, like a child in her prime, but she woke up like clockwork at every mealtime.
When boiled eggs were served as an in-train meal, Isla stuffed three into her mouth at once and chewed vigorously.
“You’ll choke if you eat so fast.”
“A dragon won't choke on a measly egg like this! I can eat ten!”
“Then there won’t be any for me.”
“Isla is a dragon! Ten eggs is nothing! To grow big and strong, I need to eat more than this! I'm even holding back for you! Kaisen doesn't know anything!”
And she always shouted proudly, spraying food everywhere.
With her cheeks stuffed full, she looked more like a squirrel than a dragon, but he held his tongue, mindful of her draconic pride.
He didn’t bother wiping the food that splattered on his face. Isla always picked it off with her finger and ate it anyway.
Once more, he looked out the dew-kissed train window.
The train had finally left the world of volcanic ash behind and was now climbing through mountains where the summer sky stretched out, vast and blue.
The sea was no longer visible.
In its place, the mountain range rose triumphantly, as if to assert its dominance.
“The Crimson Mountains.”
The mountains, awakening with an overwhelming sense of tranquility to greet the dawn, made him murmur their name in a daze.
Sacred.
Yes, let's call it sacred.
The mountain range, cloaked in red spiritual energy, seemed to assert a supernatural majesty in the morning sunlight.
As a mountain range, it blocked the enemy's advance.
As a mountain range, it rallied the defensive lines.
The artificial majesty of the Inferno Line had been grim and dizzying, but even the oppressive weight of that steel fortress seemed to pale before these mountains.
Truly magnificent…
This is true, untamed nature…
With something like this standing between the Abyss and civilization, it’s no wonder the people of the Empire are oblivious to the world's urgency, fighting amongst themselves…
And so, for a mere ten days, he was able to gaze out the window with the eyes of a boy marveling at everything in the world.
On the morning of the tenth day, the ‘Vat’ pulled into a station.
The sound of the stopped locomotive hissing steam was like a military anthem leading him to a new battlefield.
“This stop is the outskirts of <Goldenrose>, the outskirts of <Goldenrose>. All soldiers transferring to the central front, please disembark at this station.”
The engineer’s voice crackled through the brass speaking tube.
From the second and third-class cars further back, the raucous sound of officers barking at their men to wake them up echoed loudly.
The first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the steam that the locomotive exhaled with force. It was morning in the mountains.
“Get it out! What are you all doing! Put your backs into it!”
The groans of the artillerymen and engineers hauling heavy equipment, titans, and field guns from the freight cars sounded weary.
“Well, Isla, see you later.”
“Don't you cry because you miss Isla. You can write a letter if you do. Out of a dragon's mercy, I'll write back.”
He parted ways with Isla on the train. She would be leading the Dragon Tail Corps.
The Iron Cross Knights were on the platform to meet him.
Tval of the Dragon Spear, a member of the Iron Cross Warrior Party, was there with three young knights.
The knights wore black uniforms with gray iron crosses emblazoned on them. It was a simple, yet elegant and righteous aesthetic, not gaudy.
They stood with straight backs, exuding dignity, and their demeanor was without hesitation.
“You’re Kaisen?”
“I am.”
“Ha! Because of you, I have to give these guys three gold coins.”
The first meeting with Tval was not particularly friendly.
Tval scanned Kaisen with a look that said he simply could not tolerate a man taller than himself.
His sturdy build and rugged face were covered in the distinctive scars of a man who had survived a long war.
“Tval, looks like we won.”
When the young knights grinned, Tval scowled and flicked three Golden Dragon coins from his pocket.
“These insolent bastards bet gold that you’d be taller than me. I bet on myself. Ha! So a male FakeWarrior really does exist.”
“Do you want an apology?”
“Apologize? Hell no! Listen up, you fledgling FakeWarrior. I'm the strongest spearman there is. Even if I weren't a FakeWarrior, I'd still be the strongest. So don't you dare look down on me.”
Tval gave a threatening shrug of the legendary Dragonbone Spear slung over his shoulder, the very weapon that had earned him the title ‘Dragon Spear.’
An unorthodox spear, said to be crafted solely from the sharpest and hardest part of a dragon's skeleton—the clavicle.
It was less a spear and more a greatsword, or perhaps a pillar… its length and width were as massive as Tval’s own frame.
“What are you doing? The Commander told you to bring him here, not to needlessly intimidate him.”
A female archer put a stop to Tval’s spirited competitiveness.
She was a woman of such a small frame that one might mistake her for an Ain.
Beneath her hair, the color of new green leaves, her expression was extremely cold, and one of her eyes was missing.
The bow on her back emanated a pure white light, the White Spear Bow, Serwebon, a weapon with a status rivaling the Dragonbone Spear.
Both weapons had once belonged to Vat and Rem, companions of the Dragon Hero Rain Ludwig, and possessed an immense history.
The Dragonbone Spear's lineage went as far back as the Dragon Slayer, the strongest Diamond-rank mercenary, while Serwebon's could be traced to the legendary master archer Kies, who had pacified the era of turmoil.
“Welcome to the Crimson Mountains. I’m Merin. That idiot’s name is Tval.”
They exchanged greetings with a simple handshake.
For the entire journey to the Crimson Mountains garrison, Tval and Merin bickered over every little thing.
The mountain path had been converted into an automated staircase, the steps moving on their own by the power of a steam engine.
“Is it true?”
One of the knights asked then.
“I heard you annihilated the High Khun Tarq all by yourself.”
“The rumor has spread all over the mountain range. They’re calling you the Uruk Slayer.”
“I heard it was your first deployment. That’s truly incredible, Sir Warrior.”
Uruk Slayer…
He couldn't bring himself to join in their respectful laughter.
Hadn't that nickname originally been born of jest, not respect?
- Well, well, if it ain't the great Uruk Slayer!
- I wonder if that guy’s gonna become a real Uruk Slayer.
- Hahahahaha!
The laughter was the same result, but the emotion within it was different.
To share that old feeling, he would first have to share the old memories, but the ones who could do that were no longer here.
No longer here.
Tval glanced back and shook his head.
“I wouldn’t get too cocky. You seem to have some skill, but you’re not the strongest FakeWarrior. Our Commander is the true strongest. She is the foremost FakeWarrior.”
The Iron Cross Knights.
This elite unit, having served in the crucible of the central front, exuded a deadly martial prowess.
A heavy cavalry unit composed solely of the Empire's young knights, their reputation for breakthrough power with the lance was great and feared.
The name of the Warrior who commanded this group was Roveris Alter Scherpang.
She was the proxy of the Supreme Holy Sword Scherpang, which boasted a history and combat record even more distinguished than Aradamanthel’s.
If the Supreme Holy Swords were to be ranked, Scherpang would undoubtedly take first place.
After Sharon retired from active duty, Roveris had risen to the position of foremost FakeWarrior and had since led them to victory in three major battles on the central front.
When Kaisen first met Roveris in the command tent, he thought he had mistaken her for someone else.
At that moment, she looked more like a scholar than a warrior.
Sitting at a simple table in the tent, she wore old-fashioned glasses and was scribbling in a notebook with a fountain pen.
Stillness.
He never thought a person could command the very phenomenon of stillness as an aura…
Her expression, serious yet calm, gave her an intellectual air, an impression that was amplified by the solemnity of her white hair falling to her shoulders and her glasses.
“You’re Kaisen?”
Yes, that was their first meeting.
With the second master of his life, Roveris Alter Scherpang.
At the time, Roveris hadn't even looked up from her notebook as she asked.
“I’ve read all your information via the Marshal's Office. Your skills are, without a doubt, excellent.”
Just then, a mountain breeze carrying peach blossom petals blew in, causing the pages of her notebook to flutter wildly, and Roveris frowned slightly.
“However, my unit needs a soldier, not a second Warrior. I will not tolerate any unauthorized, individual actions. Understood?”
Yes, that was their first meeting.
The meeting with the master who would guide him through his adolescence, through the nascent period of his time as a FakeWarrior.
Amid the scent of the mountain's peach blossoms, Roveris's neatly flowing hair was bleached pure white. The gold, dragon-head hairpin was identical to Camilla’s.
“Understood.”
In that color and that hairpin, the shadow of his former master flickered.
It was the shadow of a sad tragedy.
The scent of a calling, carried in the souls of the last lights supporting this crumbling world.
“That’s enough of the formal introductions.”
And so, perhaps on that day.
That meeting, in a world where peach blossoms bloomed in profusion.
“I heard you plunged into a deathtrap to save Senior Camilla and Senior Sharon. It’s not just your skill; I like your spirit.”
From the very beginning of that connection.
Perhaps the very same end was already foreordained.
“Kaisen Alter Aradamanthel, welcome to the strongest unit on the central front.”