Chapter 321
Chapter 321
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 321
Chapter Title: War of the Puppets (18)
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-Whoosh!
Sweat poured down like rain. A puddle of it had formed in front of Fernandez's eyes. The world shook as if an earthquake had struck. But he knew it wasn't the world trembling—it was him.
His body burned hot, and even as his muscles screamed in fatigue and pain throughout, his inner self remained calmly submerged. Fernandez exhaled deeply and bent his arm.
-Crack!
With the sound of joints aligning, the puddle drew closer. Moisture touched the tip of his nose, then dripped away again.
"Hoo...."
[To me, that looks like nothing but abuse.]
"Sometimes self-abuse and training are hard to distinguish."
[I have trained countless warriors and seen more than five warrior chiefs, but never one who abused their body so harshly. It's more akin to the posture of ascetics.]
"You hit the mark. I'm Demonica, after all."
Demonica were ascetics, and also worthy of being called warriors. Fernandez spoke as he bent his arm. He was supporting his entire body with just his right index and middle fingers, performing push-ups in a handstand to loosen his muscles.
Ravirata watched the scene blankly, fanned by her attendants. With his upper body bare, his finely sculpted muscles writhed like snakes with every movement.
Sounds like twisting bones and clashing joints echoed endlessly around him. After some time, Fernandez lightly dusted himself off, stood up, and stretched.
"Now my body's finally loosening up."
[...? Loosening up? Is that an idiom for tearing your muscles apart? Modern language systems are complicated.]
Fernandez chuckled at her joke without responding. Ravirata saw his stretching form as a blade. He looked even more gaunt than when they first met, yet sharper, as if edge radiated from him.
A blade. Like honing a swordsman, tilting the edge against a whetstone and grinding it down. He was striking his entire body with ascetic-like stimulation to temper his bones and sinews.
"I've let my body idle too long. Time to get up."
[I thought your weapon lay within. I know you're an excellent warrior, but is there need to push so hard?]
"The best preparation is the utmost preparation. The more tools—and the stronger—the better."
[Don't try to hold too many things in one body. This is advice from one who has lived longer than you.]
"Thank you for the words."
[That doesn't look like a grateful face at all?]
"I'll heed them when the time comes."
[Men.]
Ravirata clicked her tongue briefly. Fernandez suddenly grew curious watching her. Her pharaoh's flesh was like a dry mummy. Meaning, no vocal organs. Her clear voice, qualitatively different from other specters, stemmed purely from her magic.
'How did she click her tongue? Does her magic even replicate that sound?'
-Women.
Feizashi snickered, and Ravirata's eyes flashed sharply.
[Whether you know it or not.... You, spellsword. I can hear your voice. Most irreverent.]
-Oh, my apologies. Soliloquies are too habitual. Thoughts don't settle easily in this body. Spirits have no insides, after all.
[Utterly rude. Fernandez. Why haven't you banished him?]
"Because more tools are better."
Fernandez shook his head and finished loosening his arms. His body's condition had nearly returned to normal.
Grueling labor and magical backlash rapidly consumed his lifespan, and the Demonica's divinity—aimed at keeping his flesh at peak performance—clashed, causing his soul and body to crumble from within.
But Orquis's gift. The eternal one's spirit essence had seeped in, temporarily balancing the imbalance between body and soul. It wasn't a situation for blind reassurance, but vitality was returning to his body.
Just as Abel, having absorbed a fragment of the gods, repaired his mere corpse of a body to balance soul and flesh. The exact same phenomenon was occurring in him.
The problem was....
'Dragon souls can hold divinity, but human souls cannot.'
The divinity trapped in his spirit body was volatilizing rapidly. Thus, this improvement was temporary. A last gasp, or mere first aid. His body still teetered like a falling domino, losing balance.
"Now it's time to rise."
[Apotazar's reply hasn't come yet. Are you sure?]
"Variables always exist. But I have capable retainers who can grasp the optimal moment."
[You don't even know where the Empire humans' legions have reached.]
"They won't be late."
It was faith. Faith that those who wished to save him, with his life on the line, would never be late.
Piel was an extraordinarily powerful information-reflection independent entity. Meaning, she could perceive in real-time wherever Fernandez was and what he was doing.
And Kirhas Hearttaker had joined her now. Kirhas could see the path to victory. Refined directly by the hunting god Kadan, the talent born from mixing with the 'undefeated' Kirhas from another world. Even the slightest possibility, and she could instinctively calculate the optimal move.
Moreover, Freya was in this great wilderness. Her exact location was unknown, but at least since a few days ago, she had claimed the entire great wilderness as her domain, expanding her influence. Every event on this wasteland fell under her gaze.
Freya could bloom flowers in her dwelling to transmit information.
With these factors aligned, support from the Empire side was certain to succeed. They would all give their all to save him. Walking into the jaws of death would even raise the operation's success rate.
For that, only faith was needed. Faith in himself, and in his retainers. Now was the time to move. All that could be done sitting still was finished.
[Enviable. Especially that you rely on someone.]
"I'm relying on you too."
[Even empty words sound good.]
"Not empty. The southern defense line rests entirely in your hands. If Kirjart's forces approach this region, secure a bridgehead leading to the battlefield."
[Worry not. But make one promise with me.]
"What is it?"
Ravirata nodded toward her attendant. The attendants quietly withdrew, bringing out Fernandez's gear. With gentle hands, they wiped the sweat from his body with well-dried linen, then began armoring him with plate and equipment.
[You cannot refuse my three conditions. That was our deal.]
"True...."
[But I granted you respite. Said I'd propose them after your death.]
"Yes...."
[Now I add one more condition. Promise. Until your lifespan ends naturally, do not come to me. Your flesh has lived but twenty years. You deserve happiness on your own terms. So finish all matters, fully enjoy that happiness, then prepare for the afterlife with peace of mind.]
Ravirata declared solemnly. Though verbose, its essence was a prayer. A prayer for him to live healthily and see the war's end. Fernandez nodded quietly, shouldered his gear, and walked toward the wasteland.
* * *
-Pop!
On the vast plain, a red flower suddenly bloomed. Between blades of grass, a bud sprouted in an instant, bursting into bloom the moment it caught the eye.
-Pop!
Red flowers, untimely and out of place, dotted the path ahead. It was Freya. From afar, she lit his way. As if a goddess blessed his path, with silent encouragement.
In the dawn twilight of the plain, Fernandez walked wordlessly toward where the flowers bloomed. The journey's end was near.
* * *
"Great Chieftain? Great Chieftain!"
"Hush."
Kirhas Hearttaker stood facing east, glaring far into the western horizon. Her ears twitched sharply, standing erect.
"Byurang...?"
Beyond lay Byurang. The ruins self-immolated by the beastkin tiger tribe. The forward base Karadskar's legions used to cross the great wilderness toward the Empire's heartland.
She turned her gaze to the beastkin soldiers watching her. Haggard and ragged, they were fugitive beasts thick with fatigue and dust.
"Great Chieftain.... We must retreat!"
They were near their limit. Against the enemy's full forces, their pathetically small numbers—barely vanguard or scouts—were already overwhelming to hold back.
Yet the retreat they spoke of led to defeat. Long-term defeat loomed visible.
"To Byurang."
"You're serious, Great Chieftain?"
The path to victory stretched west. Her battle-honed instincts pointed to Byurang, and beyond.
"We follow the Great Chieftain."
"Damn it, you all wanna die together or what!"
"You stay. Lindtail Elder. Golden Tusk Elder and I will follow the Great Chieftain."
"Black Fang too."
A grim voice echoed from the forest shadows. The elder's tail bristled as he turned toward the shade. Partak grimaced, emerging with the other elders.
"The hawk faction elders will all join the Great Chieftain, Lindtail. Run wherever you like. Tail between your legs like a whelp."
"Partak Black Fang. Pretending to be a warrior now? The one who hid trembling through the last war?"
"What, gathering strength."
Partak clicked his tongue and grumbled. Who could've known his lord would suddenly reconnect? No contact for a while, then monster hordes overlapped—thought him dead....
'If my lord returns alive and senses my betrayal, he won't spare me.'
Since receiving Fernandez's contact, Partak had no choice. Couldn't use magic, but he remained the most influential elder, holding big and small weaknesses over most clan elders.
"Fill that coward's cup with tea. Wet his throat for the flight."
"Damn it, you all itching to die that bad? That's a dead end!"
"Quiet, all of you."
A chill ran through them. From the deeply shadowed forest, turquoise eyes gleamed coldly. The elders instinctively crouched low. The aura built from countless battles, proxy to divine will grown into spirit essence, crushed the space with horrific presence.
Kirhas Hearttaker swept her gaze over the silent elders and growled lowly.
"Piel, Fernin's status?"
"Compared to a few days ago, remarkably improved. Great Chieftain, he's now advancing straight toward Karadskar's camp."
"Projected contact time?"
"Midnight, three days from now."
"The future after that?"
....No."
Piel trailed off. Her foresight failed in only two cases: the target dead, or some event blocking information exposure.
Since days ago, Piel said she couldn't see Fernandez's future. Since then, Kirhas asked daily, growing blade-cold with each same reply.
Blood seemed to dry in her veins. She knew his condition wasn't normal. Not grasping his exact lifespan like the others, but beastkin instincts were sharp. She knew time was short for Fernandez.
Kirhas ground her molars. A simple formula filled her mind.
1. -> Silver Lord never executes a plan meant to fail. No matter how arduous.
2. -> Thus, executing Silver Lord's plan naturally leads to victory.
3. -> Therefore, where her instincts point to victory, Silver Lord is there.
Absolute faith. As beastkin sometimes called Kirhas the undefeated, she saw Fernandez as the undefeated. An overwhelming superhuman who never seemed to lose.
Yet why the unease. She tapped her sword hilt, biting her lip. Truthfully, she knew the answer.
Fernandez's plan didn't include her safety.
If his life was the condition for grand victory, he'd self-sacrifice without hesitation if the value warranted. Thus, Piel's words felt like a death sentence to her.
'If you lack faith, don't follow. If you follow, believe even through flames and thorns.'
Words Fernandez once said to her. Likely demanding blind faith as a tool, but to Kirhas, they became absolute judgment criteria.
Yet now, she wasn't alone. Her goal tilted more toward Fernandez's survival and happiness than his victory.
"We're going to Byurang."
"Great Chieftain!! This isn't our war!"
"How much longer will you flee? As enemies burn the great wilderness and advance, will you choose to live as their livestock? Praying tomorrow isn't our slaughter day? Pass that curse to your children, our descendants?"
Kirhas rose. She looked down at the elders watching her, the soldiers worn by endless battle. Her presence blazed fiercely, as if throttling their hearts.
"No! We fight not for our survival, but our descendants'! As our ancestors did! Not our war? If we ignore this moment, who will stand with us in our future war against them?"
Kirhas drew a dagger from her bosom and hurled it. With a bursting crack, it embedded deep in the tree ahead. Soon, as if in response, a flower bud burst at the hilt's spot.
'Thank you. Freya.'
She bowed briefly, then faced the tiger tribe watching her. Stunned by the sudden miracle, they were speechless.
"See! Even the gods bless our hunt upon this earth. Take up arms! Flight ends! Your Great Chieftain, proxy of the hunting god, has returned. The hunt begins!"
-Bwoooo!!
At her gesture, a standard-bearer drew a horn and blew. Soon, horn calls echoed across the mountains. From rugged peaks toward Byurang to Paltenoia, hidden beastkin warriors responded one by one.
The mountains seemed to roar. The response of these innate hunters, who until now fled and merely clung to life.
The great wilderness burned. New settlements all fallen to enemies, they hid in hills, surviving on grass roots, blocking foes with sporadic ambushes.
But Kirhas, their Great Chieftain, had returned. Crossing the distant wasteland, that death-filled space teeming with enemies!
-Hearttaker! Hearttaker! Hearttaker!
The undefeated. Piercing two great powers' brutal war, specter legions' pressure, internal tiger tribe schism and rebellion—never once defeated, their Great Chieftain stood before them now.
Soon, riders crouched across the range mounted and poured down.
The news soon reached the western Palts, the allied camps of Deyn Kingdom and Empire forces.