Chapter 114
Chapter 114
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 114
Chapter Title: Leaders' Reunion
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Thud!
The orc, having expended every last drop of its life force, collapsed to the ground.
Slash!
The head of a lizardman, caught off guard, soared into the sky.
Stab! Stab!
The dire wolf that had been carrying the orc was pierced through the belly by the lizardmen's razor-sharp blades, letting out a pitiful howl as it died.
The basilisk commanded by the lizardmen couldn't withstand the orcs' brutish axes and greatswords, its thick hide torn to shreds.
The lush forests of Golden Stream were carpeted in corpses, and the once-clear Amatres River of Mud Stream ran red with blood flowing from the fallen bodies.
The clash where Golden Stream and Mud Stream collided was brief, but its repercussions were far from minor.
Having thrown everything they had into the fight, both sides were left with staggering losses, quite literally.
However, the chaotic melee that had erupted simultaneously across the battlefield at the war's outset was gradually being reorganized and refined.
On Mud Stream's side, with two of the Eight Ghosts—including Quintus—down amid the ferocious beasts, the more cautious Four Dragons slowly took command of the battle's flow.
On Golden Stream's side, the radical orc warriors of the Mangryang class, who had been howling for more war, were falling one by one to grievous wounds or death, rapidly thinning their numbers.
In response, Golden Eye's direct subordinates began reining in the orcs' disorganized rampage.
As cold reason began to intervene on a battlefield dominated by rage and savagery, the fog of chaotic skirmishes slowly lifted.
Of course, this didn't mean Golden Stream and Mud Stream had made peace and ended the war.
It had been a short, brutal war where they'd poured in all their strength.
A grand battle.
The point where Golden Stream's stronghold, the Mountains of Heaven, met Mud Stream's heartland, Hasfel—the very origin of the war.
The two forces, bound by an unspoken agreement, were slowly concentrating their full might toward the Field of Beasts.
This shift in momentum from the two factions was fully conveyed to the Lichtenauer Martial Clan and the Great Veil as well.
A Dark Elf ensnared by heart demons agonized day after day, layering torment upon torment.
The perfect resurrection of their god, longed for by their kin over countless ages, hinged on the choice she herself had made.
Her decision might lead to that revival occurring in an irredeemably imperfect form.
Yet staying idle like this... her subordinate, who had profoundly impacted her otherwise monotonous life, might meet a meaningless end.
What was right?
Unable to discern the true answer, the Dark Elf agonized—and agonized again.
But those thoughts... as news of the southern front arrived, they tilted ever more toward one side.
—Mud Stream and Golden Stream are preparing for a grand battle in the Field of Beasts.
The Dark Elf, Aelrion, was a shrewd man.
Thus, he could sense it intuitively.
The humans who had taken Byona into Hasfel at the outset.
If by some chance they could halt the clash between the two factions... there was no better moment than this.
The sole, irreplaceable opportunity to stop the war orchestrated by the Great Veil and reveal the misunderstanding between the two forces.
In that case...
'If I make the decision now, it would actually be for the sake of the Great Veil—and Him.'
It wasn't a misguided thought.
Only then could they render public evidence meaningless, forcing the two factions to end the war and leaving no room to advance on the Great Veil.
Aelrion knew this himself.
If the goal was purely to achieve that end, it would be far simpler and more likely to succeed by simply taking Byona's life rather than thwarting what he was about to do.
But Aelrion deliberately ignored that option.
To him, it was a choice he would never make, not even at the very end of his life.
Snap!
Having finally steeled his resolve, Aelrion moved out alone from the Great Veil, leaving behind the Dark Elves who had returned with him.
'The Head Finger... will surely understand.'
They had striven so devotedly for their god... Yes, this one deviation would surely be forgiven.
Suppressing his uneasy heart, Aelrion quickened his pace.
His destination: the central-southern Great Catastrophe.
The Field of Beasts.
Step! Step! Step!
The Lichtenauer Martial Clan, having detected the massive movements of Golden Stream and Mud Stream, didn't sit idle.
They pushed forward with their pride and joy, the regiments, at the forefront.
Operating veteran scouting units like the Heavenly Flower Corps, they advanced bit by bit toward the Field of Beasts.
Even in the Great Catastrophe, teeming with monsters like weeds in a field, the Martial Clan's advance felt effortless.
Over long ages, the memory etched into the monsters' bodies remained.
The memory of Lichtenauer—how dangerous these humans were.
Moreover, the overwhelming auras emanating from the Master-level regiment commanders were beyond what the Catastrophe's mediocre monsters could handle.
"How much farther do we have to go?"
Paon, chin resting on his hand with eyes closed, asked indifferently in passing. A reply came from directly behind his left side.
"Following the Amatres River would be faster, but according to Lady Glacia of Western Heaven, Mud Stream has blocked the waterway. So we'll be delayed a bit. Still, we should arrive in about two days."
"I see."
Paon nodded faintly at Ian's response and fell silent.
A brief silence ensued.
"Ian."
Paon suddenly called out to him.
"Yes, Patriarch."
To Ian's calm reply, Paon spoke words uncharacteristic of him.
"You've truly done well. If we hadn't uncovered the Great Veil's plot this time... we might have suffered irreparable losses."
It was a simple expression of gratitude, but coming from Paon, it made the words extraordinarily rare.
Yet Ian's merits more than warranted such praise from the Patriarch.
Exploiter of Secrets.
The truth Nedyr had uncovered by sifting through Byona's memories was... nothing short of shocking.
The Great Veil.
Their goal wasn't merely to set Golden Stream and Mud Stream at each other's throats.
The lives lost in the war between Golden Stream and Mud Stream.
They intended to use those lives as sacrifices to replenish the Earth Dragon Karaktus's vitality.
That was the Great Veil's true plan.
"At first, I thought it was quite audacious of them. I didn't like that they were trying to use the Martial Clan's full strength to stop monsters fighting in the Great Catastrophe."
"......"
"But in the end, that choice was right. If we couldn't stop the war between Golden Stream and Mud Stream, the Earth Dragon would have revived far sooner than I anticipated. Ultimately, thanks to you, we preserved the Lichtenauer family's precious forces."
Even for Ian, hearing such high praise couldn't be taken lightly.
"You're too kind. I merely anticipated that confronting a resurgent Great Veil and Earth Dragon would demand heavy sacrifices. Aligning with the enemy of one's enemy is a tactic repeated throughout history. To counter the colossal threat of the Earth Dragon most efficiently, halting their clash seemed the best course."
"Hahaha! Even after hearing my tale, it's no easy judgment to make. For the blood of Lichtenauer—lifelong foes of the Great Catastrophe's forces—to join hands with them is no simple thought."
Paon chuckled good-naturedly, gazing at the regiments advancing ahead as he muttered.
"It's been ages. Seeing those lazy captains move with such perfect discipline."
In the past, when Paon was young, the Lichtenauer Martial Clan wasn't like this.
There was a boiling passion in their blood, a fervor to elevate the clan to Augen's greatest house.
But time has a way of changing even the ironclad passion of youth.
The long years granted immense power to Paon and the regiment captains, but stole their burning zeal.
Now... they were merely powerful cowards, focused only on preserving themselves.
"Well, seeing them like this is thanks to you too. Good work."
Pat, pat!
As Paon lightly patted Ian's shoulder with a faint smile, a glimpse of genuine affection and trust—unlike before—began to show.
And Ian wasn't the only one who noticed.
"......!!"
Crunch!
On Ian's opposite side, standing at Paon's right rear, the Eldest Young Lord, Alex Lichtenauer, ground his teeth as if they might shatter.
Last winter.
To block the stirring monsters in the north, Alex had gone to the Great Catastrophe's northern front, fighting until his body nearly broke.
It wasn't just combat.
Days brought scorching geothermal heat that cooked flesh under the blazing sun, nights plunged into bone-chilling cold worse than any glacier, making survival arduous.
Even veteran strike teams balked at such a posting, yet Alex had volunteered eagerly.
Undeniably, part of it was avoiding Shurton's mad princess, Isabelle.
But beyond that petty reason.
As the clan's true heir, he sought to utterly shake off the pretenders who dared follow him, oblivious to their place as lesser stars.
And among those pretenders... Ian was included.
Despite devoting himself body and soul to the clan for that reason.
'...Why...!!'
Why was the Patriarch—no, his father—smiling at that guy instead of me?
Alex could hardly bear the fury.
'...No. I must stay calm.'
Alex drew a hot breath, forcibly steadying his heart.
'...Infuriating as it is, that guy's merits are clear. The Earth Dragon awakening... is indeed a threat that could shake the clan's foundation.'
Karaktus was the monster that, in ancient history, nearly annihilated the Aslan Kingdom itself.
Preserving Golden Stream and Mud Stream's strength would undoubtedly aid in slaying such a beast.
To them too, the Earth Dragon was an adversary too formidable to face alone.
What if he, not Ian, had learned the truth?
Infuriatingly, he wouldn't have acted the same.
Like the other captains, he would have exploited the mutual slaughter of Golden Stream and Mud Stream to expand the clan's influence.
It was a thought impossible for those raised in the clan, viewing the Catastrophe solely as enemies.
Ian's judgment was, without doubt, correct.
However.
'...From here on, you won't claim any more merits.'
All future achievements would be his, Alex's.
As myriad thoughts swirled in a vortex, countless factions converged on the Field of Beasts.
Vast plains were filled with white-furred wolves.
Along the riverbank facing the field, countless raptor heads bobbed on the water's surface.
Two beast packs that would never meet in their territories under normal circumstances now bore members of the two factions dominating this Great Catastrophe side by side on their backs.
Orcs and lizardmen.
Perhaps due to the fierce war thus far, every member of both factions was covered in scars.
Armor lay shattered, weapons chipped and worn.
Teeth missing from hilts, blades caked in mingled enemy blood and oil, indistinguishable as clubs or edged tools.
The recent clashes had been battles of utter desperation, beyond words.
Starting with the Eight Ghosts' Quintus.
Two more of the Four Dragons' Eight Ghosts had perished.
Golden Eye's three prized orcs had fortunately survived, but nearly seventy percent of the previous generation's Mangryang-class great warriors under them had fallen.
Who else could inflict such massive damage on these two factions in so short a time?
Ironically, no one but each other could have done such harm.
On the field entangled with wounds, grief, and rage.
Screeech!
From amid the wolf-mounted warriors, a stern-faced orc slowly emerged.
The orc's eyes gleamed gold, and in his hands were two axes drenched in lizardman blood.
Whoosh!
Not to be outdone, a massive serpent burst from the water's surface.
As a lizardman descended from the serpent's head, others followed, climbing from beneath the surface onto the riverbank.
The lizardman lounging cross-legged atop the serpent's head contrasted his leisurely demeanor and bored expression with a body riddled in minor wounds, scimitars at both hips stained with blood.
Yet the blades' keen edge showed no sign of dulling.
That alone proved their wielder was no ordinary figure.
As the two factions faced off.
"Sea King, it's been a while."
Golden Stream's leader, Golden Eye, spoke to the Sea King.