The Power of Ether's Heart
It was a wondrous experience.
As if light itself were seeping into every blood vessel throughout his body.
The Ether's Heart, which had been clenched hard as stone, writhed—and then began to pour into Arteon's entire form.
Ssssssssssssss.
A strange power flooded through him.
It felt different from the Ether's Heart he had absorbed before.
If the previous one had been a blazing flame—
Ugh… this cold is incredible.
A bone-cutting chill, beyond anything the North could offer, raced through his flesh.
Yet it lasted only a moment.
Suaaaaaaaaaah!
The cold that had been swimming through every corner of his body suddenly concentrated into a single point, as if answering a command. Then, like water vanishing down a drain, the Ether's Heart was drawn into his mana hole, fusing with the power already there and swelling it to new heights.
Kugugugugugugugung!
Arteon's body shuddered. He was taking in a colossal surge of force, yet its intensity was almost too much to bear.
Guh…!
He bit down hard on his lip. At a moment this critical, even a single sound could scatter the power outward. Losing it would be bad enough—but if the balance broke, he could be left a cripple. It was a razor's edge between life and ruin.
Concentrate.
Arteon poured every nerve into the mana hole. To absorb the Ether's Heart flooding in like a torrent, he could not afford a single instant of carelessness.
Gugugugugugugugu!
His body shook hard enough to lift his hips from the ground.
Watching him, Grein was suddenly surrounded by Silent Spear soldiers who rushed forward in alarm.
"W-what's happening?!"
"Vice Platoon Leader!"
Arteon's presence had already swollen until it seemed to swallow the surroundings. The soldiers cried out, faces tight with unease.
But—
"Quiet…!"
Grein barked the order with iron finality. In this moment he understood that whatever was taking place was of the utmost importance to Arteon.
At his word the others swallowed hard and simply watched.
Geugeugeugeugeugeugeuk!
The pain was as if his body would tear itself apart. Muscles twisted; he felt on the verge of bursting. He wanted to scream, yet Arteon only clenched his fists tighter. Nails dug into his palms; his bitten lip split and blood ran down his chin.
I'm… dying…!
The power of the Ether's Heart was far beyond anything Arteon could contain. Even after it filled his mana hole, more kept pouring in, and the vessel itself began to crack with a sharp zzzeok.
At this rate…
His mind went white; consciousness threatened to flee under the agony.
Then a miracle happened.
Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwang!
The Ether's Heart that had been racing into the mana hole in his lower abdomen suddenly reversed course and shot straight toward his heart. No—more precisely, a new mana hole formed within the heart itself and began to draw the Ether's Heart greedily inward.
Kugugugugugugugung!
Having found its new home, the Ether's Heart filled the space in an instant. And just as that newly born mana hole neared capacity—
Zzzeok, zzeojeojeojeok!
Arteon's body transformed. Muscles tore and reknit; bones twisted and reformed into a stronger frame. Mana circuits widened so that far greater volumes of power could surge at once. And when the work was finished…
Paaaaaaaaat!
The Ether's Heart flooded every inch of him, and golden light exploded outward in every direction—a radiance that lit the northern dark.
When the light that had blanketed the Imperial camp finally faded and vanished—
"…Hoo."
—Arteon stood at its center, letting out a long breath.
His hair now hung to his hips, and every scrap of clothing had burned away without a trace, leaving him naked. Yet he felt no cold. Instead he could only marvel at the tremendous power boiling up from within.
"So this is the strength of the Ether's Heart…?"
The force far surpassed anything he had imagined. Almost without thinking he clenched and unclenched his fist again and again. Then his gaze fell on Iglis, planted in the ground beside him.
The spear's form had subtly changed. One look was enough.
Iglis had evolved.
And not by a single stage—by five at once. The single pattern that had marked its shaft was now six.
"Vargas said… he raised it as far as the ninth stage, didn't he?"
To think a weapon that had never evolved even once would leap so far in a single bound.
Arteon reached out, feeling the vast energy pouring from Iglis, and closed his hand around it.
Grab.
The spear vibrated lightly in his grip and released the power it had been holding. Arteon's pupils trembled. It no longer felt like a weapon at all—more like a natural extension of his own arm.
But the wonder lasted only a moment.
"Platoon Leader!"
"Lord Arteon!"
At the sight of his soldiers racing toward him, Arteon turned. Grein stripped off his own cloak and wrapped it around Arteon's body. Moments later the other officers, startled by the golden light, came running as well.
"…Arteon?"
"Lieutenant Arteon. What happened? And your appearance…?"
Claw, standing behind Isaac, asked urgently—then could not hide his shock at the sight of Arteon's vastly lengthened hair.
"I'll explain everything later. Right now I look like this. May I get dressed first?"
Arteon directed the question to Ruokal, who stood beside Claw. With Velkain absent, Ruokal was his superior here.
"Do that. Get into proper uniform and come to my tent. We'll go to the Supreme Commander together."
"Yes, sir."
The matter was settled quickly. Yet the Silent Spear soldiers followed Arteon with the unbelievable scene they had witnessed still burning in their minds.
"Platoon Leader, are you all right?"
"Yeah. Better than all right—I'm at my absolute peak."
At Arteon's answer Grein swallowed hard without meaning to. Anyone could see that a profound change had taken place.
The gap…
It had already been vast. Now it stretched so far it was no longer even visible.
Just how was a man supposed to become this strong?
New worry filled the faces of every soldier walking behind Arteon.
"…."
It had lasted only an instant, yet far away something had changed. He could not put it into words—only that it felt dangerous. An ominous sense that a new variable had entered this war.
Kkeuk.
Yet Krelmuk only tightened the knots of his armor as if such things were of no concern. Part of it was for Kortzan—but more than anything, it was that boy.
I have to kill him before he grows any further.
If they fought now he would win a hundred times out of a hundred. But judging by the boy's appearance he was not even twenty.
If he already has that much skill at such an age…
An uneasy certainty settled over him that even three years—no, even one year—might be enough to change everything.
With that thought came the rumors that had drifted up from the southern North: that the Tamans of the lesser tribes had all fallen to a single young Imperial boy.
Krelmuk took up his sword. The blade was a full fifteen centimeters across—thicker than any ordinary sword—yet
Sreung.
at two meters in length even that breadth seemed slender.
In a chaotic melee Krelmuk's combat power was unmatched. One swing of that sword killed at least three men.
When he stepped from the tent, tens of thousands of warriors stood ranked and waiting.
In the deepest dark just before dawn, Krelmuk looked over them and spoke.
"By now the Empire dogs will be scrambling to root out the traitors in their own ranks."
That was why, three days later, they still had not moved. His own side had needed the time as well, to reorganize after the losses of the second battle. But—
"Now is the perfect moment. This attack will not push them back. We will annihilate them so thoroughly that Imperial scum never set foot on this land again."
There was no thunderous roar of assent, yet every warrior's eyes glittered with predatory light.
Krelmuk swung into the saddle, studying those beast-sharp gazes in the gloom. When the sun rose—
"A river will run with the blood of the Empire."
With those words, thirty thousand Kar Tribe warriors launched their full assault.
"…!"
At the sudden appearance of his subordinate the man's eyes went wide.
"What is the meaning of this? I told you not to move—!"
Ever since the day the supply depot burned and they had been defeated, Velkain had begun searching for them as though he had been waiting for the chance. Under such airtight pressure they should have been lying as low as possible—yet the man had come without even a signal.
Still the subordinate spoke in a rush of panic.
"Jebilon has been captured. If he says even a word about us, even by accident, we'll be executed at once— euhp!"
Anxiety had loosened his grip on himself; he raised his voice without restraint. The man clamped a hand over the subordinate's mouth and glared.
"Quiet. Calm yourself. Calm down. No matter how hard they search they will never uncover our identities. If Jebilon was caught it was because he acted like a man with a guilty conscience. Pull yourself together and behave as if nothing is wrong!"
The low, hard tone brought the subordinate's eyes back into focus. Only then did he seem to realize what he had done; he nodded.
"S-sorry. I'll return."
"Move in secret. If you catch their eye you will not leave here alive."
"Y-yes!"
The subordinate turned and stepped out through the tent flap.
The instant he lifted the cloth—
"H-huk!"
—he recoiled with a strangled gasp at the soldiers waiting outside.
Isaac looked past him into the tent.
"…Captain Bilton. So you were the one behind this."
At Isaac's words cold sweat poured down Bilton's spine. He knew no excuse would serve now.
He bit his lip until it whitened.
"How… did you find out?"
"You made the affair too large. You should have kept it modest."
Isaac's eyes flashed like blades. He wanted to take their heads that very second—yet
"From now on you will beg me to kill you."
—the real prize was the one standing behind these men.
But in that instant—
"Uwaaaaaaah!"
Bilton roared and drew his sword. Then—
Seogeok!
—he severed his subordinate's neck and in the same motion turned the blade toward his own throat.
Isaac was faster.
Chwaak!
"Keuaaaaaaah!"
Jeolgeureong.
Bilton's right arm spun away; the sword clattered to the floor. Still screaming, he lunged with his left hand for the fallen blade. He had to die here, no matter the cost—but
Peoeok!
A dull impact rocked his entire body. Isaac's fist had driven into his solar plexus.
"Rest. This will be the last rest you ever get."
Isaac spoke over the unconscious Bilton. Waiting Silent Spear soldiers hauled the traitor away. Only then did Isaac turn to Grein beside him.
"…Was this Lieutenant Arteon's plan as well?"
"Yes."
At that brief answer Isaac stepped out of the tent and looked up at the sky.
Just how many—
How many moves ahead is this bastard looking…?
Even as an ally the man was terrifying. And yet precisely because of that—
"Reassuring."
—he felt they might actually win this war.
And by then the pre-dawn dark had thickened.
Far in the distance, the Kar Tribe was already on the move.