Chapter 87
Chapter 87
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 87
Chapter Title: Grasping the War Situation and Formulating a Strategy
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*
“Mosat’s beacon incident, hmm... So, it happened right after you fell into a coma.”
At Fernandez Cerned’s request to summarize the events of the past month, the masked man named Shaxisi began speaking. Fernandez listened leisurely with his arms crossed. The incidents he described were all things that could plausibly have happened within Fernandez’s expectations.
“The Grand Magic Division on the front lines responded to Levineiter’s magic attack almost immediately. They had been caught off guard by an unanticipated strike.”
As he spoke, Shaxisi glanced at Fernandez for a moment. The grand magic spell that had been aimed at Mosat City was Levineiter’s infamous city-destroying incantation.
If this man hadn’t stopped it—though how he managed it was unknown—the intelligence teams stationed in Mosat at the time had all uniformly reported feeling “as if they were being judged before a god.”
While Kirjat’s Grand Magic Division chalked up the massive magical residue in Mosat to the Conclave’s doing...
No, Shaxisi knew better. According to the report personally witnessed and written by Sadiya, this man had taken down the Conclave single-handedly. Therefore, it was safe to assume he was a mage at least capable of standing in for an entire Grand Magic Division on his own.
‘Does that mean this young man is on the level of Eali Sahir, the court archmage...?’
It wasn’t certain yet, but if there was even a one-in-a-thousand, or one-in-ten-thousand chance it was true, then this youth was an Inquisitor of the Holy Pantheon of Good Gods, a Round Table Knight of the Dane Kingdom, and simultaneously a tactical-weapon-grade archmage.
‘He sounds like the earthly proxy of a war god.’
Ridiculous. Shaxisi chuckled inwardly and continued.
“Right after the bombardment spell on Mosat fizzled out, Levineiter’s magical forces were judged incapable of duty for the time being due to backlash. An accurate assessment.”
Of the spells Kirjat’s magical forces had deployed on the front lines, 15% had been dispelled during casting, and a mere 10% had been countered post-casting. Simple arithmetic showed that over 76% of their total magical output had struck the front lines.
In the 50-year war between Levineiter and Kirjat, victory had seemed within sight. Across the long front spanning five battlefields, nearly 15,000 troops had nearly vanished in an instant.
“Levineiter’s front lines shrank almost to the edge of the wasteland. Even our homeland couldn’t hide its shock. Word is, the Sultan himself was preparing a victory banquet in the capital.”
“A bit premature, wasn’t it?”
“Indeed.”
Fernandez sneered coldly as he gazed at the tangled front lines on the operations map. If they’d held a banquet, it would have been less a celebration of armistice or victory and more a memorial for the troops lost to the multifront war.
“...Three days after the Mosat incident, identical beacons rose from three of our occupied territories.”
“The Conclave’s revival?”
“Our headquarters dubbed them the ‘Beacons of the Three Dynasties.’”
“Fancy name.”
“No, literally. For some reason, before going dormant, the Conclave fools must’ve eaten something bad—they suddenly started proclaiming dynasties.”
“...What?”
“Dynasties, exactly. Dynasties. Dusty old ones from the Upper Asit era.”
Shaxisi pointed to three points on the front: the western edge, the southern edge, and the eastern fringe. Each direction on the map bore a different crest.
It was odd. If it was a major uprising from the Necropolis, they should’ve been marked as the same faction.
“Ravirata, Apotazar, Tutan Gartep. Names you’d only hear on weathered papyrus or stone tablets. Each the signature pharaohs of their dynasties.”
“And Conclave leaders.”
“Precisely. Undoubtedly the Necropolis overlords... but they’re hostile to each other.”
Fernandez swallowed and stared at the map impassively.
-...Did I hear that right?
‘I heard it wrong too, then...?’
-No, why? Why would they? Did they all suddenly get sick of playing puppet?’
‘Because the reincarnation changed history? The seals broke too early? Not enough time to prepare?’
-...Hmm.
The man, gauging Fernandez’s reaction, cleared his throat and spoke cautiously.
“Our forces withdrew immediately. The area swarmed with the undead once the three dynasties revived. They claimed—and I quote—that they alone were the legitimate dynasty of Asit. All three pharaohs, each one.”
Shaxisi looked at the battlefield with a pained expression. Just as the long war was about to end, uninvited ancient guests had crashed the party. Guests no one had foreseen.
The ancient specters that appeared from three directions swiftly formed legions and began marching on the wasteland. Their proclaimed goal: unification of the Great Western Wasteland. With promises to “spare” those who submitted to their royal house.
“Unable to withstand the multifront pressure after losing the most territory, we retreated, and Levineiter requested aid from the Eastern Kingdom Alliance. A massive expeditionary force. Dane and Fairn dispatched knight orders right away.”
Fernandez nodded. That made sense. Fairn needed an external enemy to stave off internal strife no matter who ascended, and with Dane untouchable, they had to project force somewhere.
Meanwhile, Dane would organize a large-scale expedition to prove the legitimacy of their suddenly transferred throne externally and gain imperial recognition for the swift succession.
Thus, Eastern Kingdom Alliance forces appeared on the eastern front.
“Right after, the Holy Pantheon’s Doctrine Guardians dispatched paladins to repel the Necropolis uprising.”
Beitasser’s Crusader Knights. Fanatics of the War God Beitasser, one of the era’s most potent religious military forces.
If Inquisitors were the torch illuminating humanity’s darkness, the Crusaders were the shield and spear guarding the foremost lines.
Their deployment meant not just Beitasser’s Papal Court but the churches of the Holy Pantheon of Good Gods themselves viewed this gravely.
“And that’s how we ended up like this. Doctrine Guardians, Eastern Kingdom Alliance, Levineiter, Kirjat, and the Necropolis’s Three Dynasties. Never in history have so many military groups gathered in this wasteland.”
Thus, the front lines were now a tangled web like a spider’s snare, fragmented and chaotic like a shattered pottery bowl. Countless forces maneuvering for their own interests, blades drawn against one another.
Fernandez stared silently at the operations map for a while. Internally, he was locked in fierce debate with Feizashi Wildcast.
-My hypothesis is this, Fernandez. The Necropolis infighting is Mumto’s strategy.
‘What do they gain?’
-Maximize simultaneous wars, harvest maximum death.
‘Then why not have the three pharaohs ally and attack together? See that?’
Fernandez mentally pointed with his chin to a corner of the front, the border between the Apotazar Dynasty and the Levineiter Empire.
‘They’re close enough for a decisive battle right now. Their fourth outpost and the Apotazar Dynasty. The front holding means those two somehow inked a ceasefire.’
-The Conclave allying with human civilization? Possible?
‘Only one assumption makes it feasible. Feizashi. Here’s my take.’
Fernandez’s gaze drifted to the vast empty plain at the wasteland’s center. No—to the grand Necropolis pyramid sealed deep beneath it.
‘Mumto’s lost more power than expected. Too weakened to exert control over his minions.’
-...Overly optimistic?
‘If true, it’s an opportunity. Shrink the great demons from five to four.’
Originally, Fernandez hadn’t even considered exterminating the great demons. Eradicating five beings with divinity wasn’t strategy; it was delusion.
But if Mumto was so debilitated he couldn’t control even his underlings?
Then it was a perfectly valid hypothesis. As Fernandez silently glared at the map, Shaxisi tapped the table.
“Well, so how do you plan to turn this war situation around?”
“Fight fire with fire.”
“What?”
Ignoring the flustered Shaxisi, Fernandez turned to Kirhas Hearttaker. She had watched him silently from start to finish.
Their eyes met, and Kirhas blushed, averting her gaze slightly.
“Kirhas.”
“Yes, my benefactor.”
“Remember the last hiding place of the Kalani Clan?”
Kirhas’s face hardened coldly. A mix of terror, fear, and rage.
The day her tribe burned? Unforgettable. The place too. Kirhas stood silent for a moment, then nodded cautiously.
- Pat.
Fernandez placed a hand on her head, stroking it slowly. Kirhas trembled briefly, then closed her eyes tightly.
“Don’t rage yet. I’ll find your target soon.”
“...Yes, my benefactor.”
One year ago, the day she submitted to him. Before Glorydain City’s underground aqueduct, his words resurfaced.
‘You want revenge. I want you to have it.’
Yes, revenge. Once a cold, scarred purpose in her life, no longer her sole drive...
Yet her lord still had it in mind. More than revenge being near, Fernandez’s thoughtfulness thrilled her, making her tremble.
*
-Tok, tok.
Hot sweat dripped onto the cold stone floor, staining it dark. Balanced on one finger, Abel held a handstand, maintaining perfect equilibrium.
Her beautiful golden hair, glowing like a sunset wheat field, cascaded to the floor. Eyes closed serenely, she breathed slowly.
How much time had passed? In her vague sense of it, she tallied: one month since Fernandez collapsed. Three weeks since her last meal. Ten days of solitary penance.
This was her self-imposed punishment.
‘I swore never to leave you alone again.’
Dragon tongue carries mana. Her vow held weight beyond words. Yet she had let Fernandez head to the battlefield alone.
She couldn’t face him. No confidence to behold his aged, sickly visage. His whitening hair, though slowly recovering, was too harsh to see.
Thus, she vowed anew. If he didn’t awaken, she’d never forgive herself.
-Knock knock.
Someone knocked. Without shifting, Abel spoke quietly.
“Has he awakened? If not, I said not to disturb me.”
“He has.”
“...!!”
-Thud!
Abel nearly lost balance, crashing down. Her reflexes caught her with an elbow just before her face hit, barely steadying.
She twisted upright, sat, and kicked the door open in haste.
-Bang!
“Hmm...?”
Fernandez’s puzzled voice came from outside. Abel stared dumbly at her leg.
‘I, I blocked the door at least...?!’
She couldn’t let Fernandez, whom she hadn’t seen in a month, see her disheveled after ten days of nothing but exercise!
“D-don’t come in yet!”
“...Understood.”
“Just a moment, a moment! D-don’t go anywhere!”
“Got it. Take your time.”
Abel hurriedly tidied her hair. It was impeccably neat, but to her, it looked like a bird’s nest. The ends seemed frayed too.
Sweat—she’d sweated too much. Her goddess-blessed body emitted no odor, yet she fretted over her scent.
*
Arms crossed outside, Fernandez pondered the clattering sounds within. About to knock again, the door flew open.
-Bang!
A pale hand seized his collar. Before he could react, instinct made him step back—
-Whoosh!
“-Ugh?!”
Before their strengths clashed, her hand twisted his collar tight, using his momentum to hoist him airborne!
Dizzy from centrifugal force for a moment—
He was suddenly on the floor.
-Bang!
The door slammed shut. As Fernandez’s vision cleared from the shock, the first thing he saw was golden hair spilling like a wheat field.
“Uh, Abel?”
“Shh.”
A pale, delicate finger pressed his lips. Cold. Fernandez’s eyes widened in surprise, then blue ones filled his view.
Abel gazed down at him from inches away. Time seemed to stop. Fernandez felt his heart pounding wildly.
‘Damn it. Dane King. Maintain some dignity!!’
The king’s memories surged through his veins, singing joyous anthems! As Fernandez gritted his teeth against the emotional torrent, Abel’s blue eyes curved softly.
“It really is you. Not a dream—you’re really here.”
Abel smiled warmly, lifting her finger from his lips. Her cold hand then gently caressed his cheek.
“Thank you, Fernandez.”
“Sorry for worrying you.”
“From now on, let’s not give each other reasons to apologize.”