The Uncrossable Wall
The air of the ruined battlefield hung as heavy as cold blood.
With every pass of the wind, shattered stone fragments rolled and clattered with a metallic ring.
The sky was dyed crimson.
In the sunset glow that seemed mixed of blood and fire, Arteon looked at the man standing before him.
Massive shoulders, skin blackened by scorching, and a crushing pressure that seemed to weigh down the very air around him.
It was Krelmuk.
Arteon forced down the tremor in his fingertips.
He had expended considerable stamina and mana in the fight against Kortzan. His breath came short and ragged, yet his expression did not so much as flicker.
Krelmuk regarded Arteon and spoke.
“You look far younger than I expected.”
The ruined terrain alone made plain what kind of battle had raged here. The ground was blackened, and remnants of aura still trembled unstably through the air.
For such a young Imperial soldier to display this level of seasoned skill…
Krelmuk could not fully conceal the surprise in his eyes.
Using that much aura should have placed a severe burden on the body. Yet the youth stood as if nothing were amiss, even regulating his breathing—something that would not have been easy even for Krelmuk himself.
Only a veteran warrior tempered by long years of combat against those stronger than himself could manage it. And that was precisely what he sensed from the young Arteon.
But then—
“Lord Arteon!”
“Commander!”
From behind, the Silent Spear unit came running. Light flashed across armor caked in blood and dust.
In an instant they assembled, forming ranks around Arteon and raising their spear tips as one.
At the same moment, Kar warriors appeared behind Krelmuk.
The two forces faced each other across the battlefield, taut as drawn bowstrings. The silence was so dense that even a single breath or a stray gust of wind felt heavy. The balance of power seemed perfectly matched.
Yet…
…No.
Arteon’s eyes narrowed. He could not gauge the true measure of the man before him. It felt like standing before a colossal wall.
Was this what Kortzan had meant?
—Even if you surpass me… you will not win this war.
That unshakable confidence in victory. Its source stood right in front of him.
“…Still, I cannot let this chance to end the war slip away.”
Thick killing intent gathered in Arteon’s eyes. If he could only kill the man before him, complete victory in this war would be theirs.
He raised Iglis. Fire kindled in his gaze.
“Silent Spear unit.”
A short, iron command.
“Here… we end this war with our own hands.”
The moment the words fell, the unit members’ eyes turned cold and sharp. Skill difference or not, if it was Arteon’s order they were ready to follow him even into the fires of hell.
At the abrupt shift in atmosphere, Krelmuk’s expression hardened.
Enemy though they were—
…Impressive.
Admiration laced with respect slipped free. The resolve of the Imperial soldiers before him was absolute.
If more time passed and they grew stronger still…
They could become a truly dangerous threat to us.
Killing them here would be the wisest choice.
But…
“…”
Krelmuk glanced at Kortzan slung over his shoulder. The man’s breathing was fading to a thread; delay any longer and the situation could turn critical. He had never particularly doted on the fellow, yet he could not simply abandon him like this.
Krelmuk clicked his tongue softly.
“If you don’t all intend to die here, we’ll call it a day. We’re busy on our side as well.”
“You think I’ll just let you walk away?”
The instant Arteon stepped forward, aura erupted like an explosion. The ground cracked; the wind split as if cut by blades.
Just as he prepared to charge—
“There should be somewhere more urgent than here.”
At Krelmuk’s voice Arteon’s body locked. Before the words had even finished, black smoke was already billowing in the distance—exactly where the Imperial army’s rear camp lay.
“C-Commander!”
“…Shit.”
It was far, yet he knew the place with perfect clarity. How could he not? That was where the warehouse holding their supplies stood.
Krelmuk continued.
“If you do not hurry, something irreversible will occur. But if you still insist on fighting me here…”
He gripped the sword at his waist.
Wooooong!
He had merely drawn the blade.
“H-Huk!”
“Hup!”
The Silent Spear members behind Arteon flinched and took an involuntary step back. Even facing it felt like something that demanded a resolve to die. It was not mere killing intent or presence. It was a gulf that no words could bridge—an absolute disparity they felt in their bones.
Arteon felt it just as keenly.
“…Damn it.”
The curse forced its way past his lips. Even if they fought the man here, victory was far from certain. No—the greater likelihood was that they would be wiped out entirely.
Arteon weighed his options. No—there was no time left for long deliberation.
His expression twisted.
“Silent Spear unit, return to the main force.”
If the rear supply warehouse was compromised, the center would inevitably feel the shock as well.
We had only just seized the momentum…
Losing it was one thing; if they were not careful the entire tide could reverse. If they failed to halt the enemy’s advance now—
We could be completely overrun.
That, above all, had to be prevented.
Arteon turned. The Silent Spear unit withdrew with him.
Watching them recede, Krelmuk spoke.
“Hurry. It seems this one doesn’t have much time left.”
“Understood.”
He handed Kortzan to a subordinate and moved swiftly toward his own lines.
Yet—
He stopped mid-stride and looked back in the direction Arteon had gone.
Though he had let the man live today—
“Next time… he is someone I must kill without fail.”
Krelmuk muttered the vow to himself and quickened his pace once more.
The flames had been extinguished, yet their aftermath still burned hot. Night wind carried the reek of scorch across the entire camp—burned timber and melted canvas. Worse than the stench was the despair that had soaked into every corner of the fortifications.
One small mercy: not long after the incident, the Kar Tribe had withdrawn.
Even so, the day’s losses had been staggering. The unexpected appearance of monsters had shattered their formations, and the Kar charge that followed had been merciless.
Velkain received the reports of the wounded and the dead and let out a long, heavy sigh.
Then—
“Have you confirmed the state of the supplies?”
“We are still assessing, but… we estimate roughly eighty percent loss.”
At Claw’s answer, despair settled onto Velkain’s shoulders. This was an expedition; supply was everything. Eighty percent gone. From this day forward they would have to cut the soldiers’ rations.
But that was not the true problem.
“While extinguishing the fire a corpse was discovered inside… According to the warehouse guards, that soldier deliberately set the supply depot ablaze.”
“Any sign of enemy infiltration?”
“None.”
The supply warehouse was the most tightly secured point in the entire camp. Had enemies breached it, they would have sensed something long before.
At Claw’s report Velkain exhaled another long breath.
Again… again?
No. This was his own failure. He had believed he had posted only trustworthy men.
“Among the wounded from the first day, some were assigned near the supply warehouse… It appears to have been one of them.”
“What’s done is done. Preparing countermeasures takes priority.”
His mind understood, yet the rage boiling up from deep in his chest was hard to master. Velkain kept his expression carefully neutral as he spoke to Claw.
“At once… summon every officer.”
Claw moved with urgent haste.
“…”
The Silent Spear members who had returned to camp waited inside their tent. The burning of the supplies had left the entire camp seething, and ugly rumors were already spreading.
“They say we’ve got a spy among us… is it true?”
“Yeah. The warehouse fire this time—that spy bastard deliberately lit it and died.”
“Fucking piece of shit. If he were still breathing I’d slice his fingers joint by joint and make him suffer.”
The officers were doing their best to keep the truth of the warehouse fire from the rank and file, but rumors were never so easily smothered. Word had already raced through the ranks, and with it the poisonous suspicion that an enemy walked among them. The atmosphere grew darker by the hour.
Yet in the midst of it all, something else occupied Arteon’s mind.
Swaaaaaah!
A fierce northern wind swept across his cheek. Alone outside the tent, Arteon gazed toward the Kar camp.
Fatigue from the battle with Kortzan should have weighed him down, yet—
“…”
He recalled the Krelmuk he had just faced.
If I meet him again…
There would be no avoiding the fight. The moment he had to stand against that man would come without question.
Can I win?
He asked himself, and the answer arrived at once. In his present state, victory was impossible.
Battles and wars were never certain until they were fought; countless variables always intervened. But that man’s level stood far beyond anything Arteon could currently measure.
If I faced Lord Lucael as an enemy… would it feel like this?
He did not underestimate Lucael, yet even that man might not be able to guarantee the outcome. Such was the overwhelming power of the enemy’s supreme commander, Krelmuk.
Arteon lightly rested a hand against his lower abdomen, over the mana hole. Inside it rested Ether’s Heart.
If he failed to fully absorb that power, the next time he met the man—
I will die for certain.
In one sense this war would be written large into Imperial history. Yet that was not Arteon’s sole purpose. Exterminating every last one of these damned Kar bastards mattered, but more important still was the later reckoning with the traitors who had murdered him and his comrades.
Having ordered his thoughts, Arteon lifted his face to the sky. The cold northern wind seemed to clear his mind.
“…Perhaps this is for the better.”
Because the war was so critical, those bastards could not simply stand by and watch. That was why they had risked everything to pull a stunt like this.
But…
If, despite their interference, he could still drag this war to victory—then that alone would be a solid blow against those damned traitors.
Arteon moved to a secluded spot where no soldiers passed and sat down on the ground.
Vargas Mana Cultivation Method.
If he could force the absorption of Ether’s Heart with the cultivation method that shone brightest in the freezing north…
“Hoo…”
It was a dangerous act—prodding a bomb that could detonate inside his body at any moment. Until now he had simply waited for natural absorption. But there was no more time to delay.
If I fail… I die anyway.
No matter how he turned it over, there was no path to winning this war without surpassing that man.
Arteon closed his eyes and began to circulate the Vargas Mana Cultivation Method.
I will…
Succeed.
And as the cultivation began—
Boom!
That which must never be touched began to stir violently within him.