Chapter 181
Chapter 181
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 181
Chapter Title: At the Boundary Between Infiltration and Breakthrough (1)
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*
Fernandez Cerned kept his head low, peering down at the Northern Army's encampment from beneath the tree branches.
The Northerners were not accustomed to organized legion formations. Throughout history, their battles had been clan-based village skirmishes or conflicts between allied groups of clans. An "encampment" simply meant a gathering place for warriors of the same clan.
It was laughable to expect no disputes when shoving fiercely exclusive and belligerent warriors from different regions into one space. Yet forming combat units solely from the same clan's warriors posed its own problems.
They tended to prioritize the words of clan elders over those of leaders. Thus, rivalries between encampments were possible, but internal strife within an encampment should have been nearly impossible.
However, Fernandez narrowed his eyes, gazing at the men facing off in the encampment. It was a standoff laced with killing intent, far beyond a petty neighborly squabble.
*
“That can’t happen!”
*
“‘That can’t happen.’”
The words slipped from Fernandez’s lips as he sharply glared at the lead man, who bellowed them with veins bulging in his neck. In the winter chill, he could read the man’s lip movements, the intensity of the breath from his nose and mouth, his gestures, and even the motion of his Adam’s apple.
The Religiosa Demonica’s instantaneous perception and eyesight transcended human limits. Demonica were the pinnacle of functionality crafted by the War God himself—blades honed solely for battle, designed to confront foes overwhelmingly superior to humans.
The ultimate potential and power humanity could achieve, embodied in human form as a symbol of martial might. Enduring the Demonica blessing process and filling one’s own spirit core with the War God’s divinity held that meaning.
And layered atop that was Fernandez’s own cognition. It enabled him to decipher human speech with an eagle’s eye. From a distance where facial features were barely discernible, he was performing astonishingly precise lip-reading.
Swiftly, his gaze shifted to the elder standing beside the man. The burly old man with a thick white beard was shouting back at the middle-aged man yelling at him.
“‘Then what do you propose?’”
*
“Then what do you propose! Are you saying we all die together, is that it?”
“Damn it, you bastard. With our own hands? Absolutely not!”
“And then what? Erik won’t bat an eye before slaughtering us all! You fool. Children, children can be made again!”
“Shut your crap!”
The man roared, grabbing the elder by the collar and hoisting him up. The elder let out a choked gasp. The warriors behind the elder drew their weapons in unison, and those behind the man followed suit, raising theirs.
In the tense atmosphere ready to erupt into bloodshed at any moment, the man ground his teeth and growled.
“The reason we surrendered to those Kazalid bastards was one thing only. Did we surrender out of fear of dying in battle? No! We just wanted to save our blood kin in this chaos—that’s why we surrendered!”
“It wasn’t about killing them all. Gah. Y-you bastard. D-do you think I came here happily to hear that crap?”
The man spat in disgust and released the elder’s collar. As the elder curled up coughing, the man drew his axe, glaring down at him. Tears welled in the elder’s eyes as he looked up and said.
“If we don’t hold back now... If we act foolishly now, our entire clan dies. Barrein. Get a grip. You idiot... You’re the man who’s supposed to be the next Yarl.”
“What’s the point of becoming Yarl after they slaughter all the children? Have some shame! All of you! You blockheads! Men who hear orders to kill their own kids and just come back?”
“Right there!!”
The elder screamed with bloodshot eyes.
“Right there! The clans that resisted that bastard’s words... They were made examples, throats slit. How many do you think died? Huh? Half! Half the elders of the clans that surrendered to him died right there!”
“They should have died together! Instead of swearing to kill their own clan’s children with their own hands and coming back! They should have died before smearing filth on our ancestors’ faces!”
“You think I wanted to do it?!”
The elder straightened up. Despite his apparent age, his massive frame hinted at the formidable warrior he had once been. He drew a one-handed axe from his belt and shouted.
“I wanted to die fighting! At least that would have been honorable! Instead of scraping by in this old age, I could have died gloriously! But, but you blockhead. You thick-skulled brat...”
The elder let his axe droop, whispering sadly.
“Erik... After killing the elders of the resisting clans, he said, ‘If the headwaters are dirty, so flows the downstream.’ What do you think that means...? It was a declaration to exterminate entire clans, elders included.”
“I’d rather die. I’ll die fighting! The Kazalids are a big clan, sure. They even summon demons! But half? Even if we turn half the clans against them, would they still be so mighty?”
The man had a point. No matter how powerful the Kazalids, Hajart Kazal’s legion was less than half of Erik’s forces.
The remaining troops were minor tribes near Hajart Kazal who had surrendered willingly at the war’s outset. The war hadn’t dragged on long, but with legions scattered like wildfire, coordination between them was weak. If civil wars erupted everywhere, holding a long front line would be impossible.
They had to exploit that gap. Word was resistance forces were coalescing recently. Joining them might be better. First, evacuate the children and women...
[Do you know why I like mortals?]
The warriors in the clearing froze, trembling. The elder, the middle-aged man, even the others shouting around them.
Slowly, they raised their gazes to the encampment’s edge, where a crude palisade marked the boundary. Despite the bright daylight, an eerie darkness settled there.
Not mere clumped shadows. Perception warped as if sunlight dimmed and fog enveloped, sending shivers through the men. Air shimmered and scattered like oil on polluted river water, tinged purple, yellow, or blue.
From amid it, a corpse-pale man sat atop the palisade, looking down at them.
[Because they hold hope. Do you know how sweet that is? It’s like the snacks you eat. You know those dried, hardened grains and fruits. That sugary, crumbling texture is just too good. That’s what hope is.]
The pale man cackled. His lips tore from ear to ear, revealing razor-sharp teeth that gleamed between. Colors shattered and dispersed from his breath.
“D-d... demon...”
[Some call me that. Baldr said to kill you all outright... But that’s no fun. So relax, mortals. I’ll just watch.]
The demon nodded toward the elder, pale with terror and trembling.
[You saw me, old man?]
“T-that bastard. Barrein, that’s the one. He and his kind massacred all the resisting elders and warriors.”
The elder swallowed hard, shuddering. The demon cackled at the sight.
[I said don’t worry. Now, carry on with what you were doing. Hold onto hope! Isn’t that what you mortals do best? Better if you tear into each other. Does that give you some hope?]
The demon looked down at the warriors swallowing nervously under his blazing gaze.
[I’ll spare the last one.]
*
—Bold bastard.
Feizashi Wildcast chuckled. Fernandez watched them expressionlessly. The warriors stood frozen, not daring to move, staring at the demon.
—We might as well sit back and enjoy the show. If they’re busy with their infighting, breakthrough won’t be an issue.
This area was one of the passes piercing Erik’s extended front line. Perfect for surveillance, especially with clear skies, so Fernandez had planned to observe until nightfall.
But this unexpected strife was an ideal moment to cross. For him, who’d lived in the trees for days due to the threat that revealing himself could upend the grand strategy, it was a golden opportunity.
‘Wait a moment.’
—Tch.
Feizashi clicked his tongue at Fernandez’s hesitation. Fernandez’s left arm twitched, gripping and releasing the greatsword’s hilt repeatedly.
Always so hot-headed. Feizashi whispered in dissatisfaction.
—Infighting among them—what do you think that means? This isn’t isolated here. The world has always been hell, Fernandez. This is just another line of tragedy written atop it.
‘It was a promise I never intended to keep anyway. No need to, and the one I swore it to no longer exists.’
Suddenly, Fernandez spoke differently. Feizashi narrowed his eyes at him. Fernandez stared fixedly at the warriors and demon.
‘That day, in Althbert. Underground, the moment I was appointed by King Dain. Remember?’
—...Yeah.
‘You wouldn’t know, but I saw King Dain’s memories. Through death, I inherited his memories and madness with my spirit. Thanks to that, he regained sanity and fell... But remnants of those times still linger in me.’
*
Even if I cannot bear all the world’s sorrows, I’ll ensure no one sits alone in despair.
*
He recalled the vow he made while closing the eyes of the fallen giant beneath his hand. Despite the countless brothers and subjects who died by that giant’s hand. Before anger, he pitied the giant’s life.
A life wandering alone, swallowing only others’ scorn and hatred. The young knight of that time had silently taken him in, vowing to share that burden.
—Ha, I knew it’d come to this. That’s why I opposed it then. I feared your existence would blur once another’s spirit mixed with yours. You’ve changed, Fernandez. Not progressed—degenerated.
‘Is that bad? Or does it mean how good things were when we were us?’
—At least we could be ‘us.’ I could be ‘me.’
‘People change.’
—Self-destruction and self-repair don’t affect a spirit’s essence. In your case, there was external contamination. You’re tainted, Fernandez.
‘External? I know the condition where changing through interaction with others is called “contamination”... They call it “autism.”’
—...Hah.
As Feizashi fell silent, Fernandez gripped the greatsword’s hilt and slowly drew it.
—Fine, maybe so. But your actions? Others call it hypocrisy. No matter how our hands claim goodness. Even if we dip them in clean water now. Does that make our past, our goals, our deeds so pure and noble? For us, purpose matters more than reasons, and goodwill is among the most worthless.
Fernandez prepared to leap down slowly.
‘In any case, hypocrisy is always better than malice. And purpose—it’s not to assuage guilt. Feizashi. For the son, for that young soul...’
His grand strategy was stealthy raids, rear disruption, buying time for Hajart Phalan. But buying time was meaningless now.
With widespread civil war among the enemy, the situation was countdown to all-out war. No matter how unprepared Hajart Phalan was, with Freya, striking the enemy’s weakest point would be easy for Kirhas Hearttaker.
Fernandez met the eyes of Abel, who watched him anxiously beside him. Having lip-read his words, she barely restrained her urge to charge out.
Fernandez looked at her and said quietly.
“Will you come with me?”
“Gladly.”
Abel smiled brightly.
—For the son. Yes. For that poor soul... Even if it means burning the world and rebuilding it.
‘No, even if it’s hypocritical charity, mere nauseating self-consolation and deception. To build a foundation where that child can live happier. Just for that.’
Fernandez spun the sword once, gripped it, and leaped from the tree. Abel kicked off with him and descended. They sprinted toward the encampment almost simultaneously.