Chapter 671: Father and Son Meet
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 671: Father and Son Meet
"I am Muen Campbell, a soldier who has come to fight by your side."
Muen’s voice, carried through the endless crackle of lightning, echoed throughout the entirety of Dolonslei Fortress.
In that moment, he could feel it—not just the soldiers directly in front of him, but many others across the fortress. It was as if their souls had finally returned to this world, and they were all looking at him.
Some stood atop the high city walls, stealing glances downward when Donnik wasn't looking. Some had just jolted awake from their rest, not even having time to straighten their helmets. Others were the wounded who had long been rotting in dim rooms; they craned their necks with great effort, looking out on behalf of comrades who couldn't move at all.
They all looked at Muen.
And Muen looked back at them.
Though this was a world of swords and magic, here, these ordinary soldiers were the foundation upon which this mighty fortress was built. No matter how brilliant a general might be, they could never lead a despairing army of the grieving to victory.
At this moment, perhaps a single sentence couldn't fill these men with hope, but it could at least pry a tiny crack in their numb, closed-off hearts.
"I know that you all understand the predicament the Empire faces. You are lost, uncertain of the future, and perhaps you even feel that this is a war where the only destination is death. Because of that, you’ve stopped thinking—stopped asking yourselves exactly what it is we are fighting for."
"But I have come here to tell you that it isn't so. This war is not endless, and death is not its only conclusion."
"Look!"
Muen pointed to the thunderous bolts of lightning behind him.
"Standing here right now is a top-tier powerhouse known as the Indra King. His name, like the title of the Lion King, is renowned across the entire continent. His strength is so formidable that even if he were to face the top two old monsters among the Demon Grand Dukes, he would have the power to emerge victorious!"
"..."
The Indra King’s cheek twitched, but facing the suddenly respectful gazes of all the soldiers, he gave a slight, dignified nod.
Muen saw the light in the soldiers' eyes gradually brighten and continued:
"And it isn't just the Indra King. I have also brought the personal regards of the Imperial Empress."
"Perhaps you don't know much about the newly crowned Empress. You might wonder if she truly cares about ordinary soldiers like you... but I can tell you with absolute certainty—she does. Yes, Her Majesty cares about you. Because that Empress... she is truly, truly a wonderful person."
The image of a silver-haired girl surfaced in Muen’s mind, and a smile unconsciously touched his lips.
"She will not abandon a single inch of the Empire’s territory, nor will she abandon you. Therefore, right behind me, following in my wake, reinforcements from six entire territories in the Western Empire have been prioritized for this defense line."
"Even with the Empire facing threats from the Kingdom, she ignored all opposition and diverted the maximum force currently available."
"Weapons, medicine, food, care for the wounded, compensation for the fallen... not a single thing will be missing!"
"All we have to do is keep fighting—fighting without worries—until we utterly crush those demon bastards who want to invade our homes, kill our families, and burn our houses... crush them right here before this bastion!"
"We aren't just fighting to stay alive. These are the reasons we fight!"
This was the first time Muen had ever spoken in front of so many people.
Even though his upbringing as a Duke’s son allowed him to stand tall and speak with a resonant, commanding tone before these soldiers, his speech wasn't actually that professional. To be honest, any squad captain—someone like Abel, for instance—could probably give a daily morning briefing ten times more stirring, eloquent, and heart-wrenching than this.
Yet, everyone listened to these plain, ordinary, and unoriginal words with rapt attention.
"Will we win?" someone suddenly asked.
"Of course," Muen smiled.
"Of course we will win. But at this point, I don't want to spout any more of that 'The Empire will surely prevail' nonsense that you've probably heard a thousand times. I’ll just say one last thing."
Muen paused, looking around at everyone once more. He took a deep breath and said with utmost solemnity:
"Until the moment victory arrives, I, like all of you, will be fighting here in this abyss. I will not take a single step back."
"...That is my promise to you!"
*
Supported by Noble, Muen stepped down from the high platform. He paid no mind to the cheers behind him or the shouts of "Long live the Empire" and "Long live the Empress."
He walked up to Donnik, who was still dazed, and gave him a gentle nudge.
"Let's go. Uncle Donnik, you're getting on in years; surely you weren't actually moved by my motivational fluff, were you?"
"No... I..."
Donnik snapped out of it, looking at the Duke’s son with a complex expression. He looked the same as in his memory, yet he was also entirely different.
"I... I think I misjudged you."
"Is that a compliment or an insult?"
"A compliment, obviously!"
Donnik finally remembered to take off his helmet, habitually scratching his head. "Young Master Muen, you really have changed. If someone had told me two years ago that you’d be able to give a speech like that, I’d have slapped them across the face and asked if a donkey had kicked them in the head."
"And now?"
"Now I just want to give myself a slap to prove I’m not dreaming."
"I can help you with that. Indra King..."
"Wait, wait, wait! I’m joking! I can tell the difference between a dream and reality." Donnik glanced at the Indra King, who could casually hold ten thousand bolts of lightning in his hand. Thinking about taking a slap from him... Donnik couldn't help but shudder.
"I just didn't expect you to change so much, Young Master..."
Donnik finally sighed. "It seems everything I said earlier was nonsense, and my worries were misplaced. Young Master Muen, you really are just like the reports from Belland said—you’ve become far more exceptional than we imagined."
"Is that so?"
Muen looked at his own palm, then looked up at the murky sky extending above the Silver Cliff. He suddenly laughed. "Perhaps... this is what they call growing up?"
*
"He really said that?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
Verner pushed up his glasses and looked at the Imperial Duke currently lying in bed—the Lion King, Lorne Campbell.
"I heard every word he said clearly. There’s no way I missed anything."
"Is that so?"
Duke Campbell leaned back against his pillow.
He still wore his thick beard, and even lying down, he looked like a slumbering lion, radiating majesty. But even an ordinary person could see his current weakness. His pallor was something even a Crown Bearer couldn't hide, proving that he had indeed sustained extremely severe injuries during the previous siege.
However, no matter how heavy the injuries, hearing this news made him feel revitalized.
"Good, good, good! To be able to say such things... that boy finally looks a bit like I did in my youth!"
"A lion does not sire a cub. It is only natural," Verner said. "Based on the timing, Young Master Muen should be arriving soon. Does Your Grace wish to..."
"Help me up!"
"But your injuries..."
"What kind of father meets his long-lost son while lying in bed? Do you want him to worry about his old man? Help me up!"
Verner looked hesitant. He knew exactly how grave the Duke's injuries were. To avoid damaging the army's morale, the Duke hadn't made a public appearance in days.
But he couldn't win against Lorne Campbell's stubbornness.
"Fine."
Just as he was about to help the Duke up, the door to the room was suddenly pushed open.
"I don't think that's necessary."
That familiar voice made the Duke—a steel-hearted man who hadn't blinked while facing a million demons—feel a sudden sting in his nose.
"A son will worry about his father, but he certainly won't look down on him."
Muen walked into the room, offering a slight smile to his father on the sickbed. Behind him was Donnik, looking sheepish for failing to stop him.
"You brat..."
Duke Campbell glared at Donnik before turning his gaze to Muen. Even though he had received word in advance, he almost couldn't control his emotions. "It's been over a year. Since when did you become such a smooth talker?"
"Well... after all sorts of trials, I had to learn to speak better. Otherwise, it’s too easy to get stabbed," Muen joked half-heartedly, then looked toward Verner. "I remember... you're Uncle Verner, right? We met when I was little."
"Yes, Young Master Muen. It has been a long time. You truly have grown up."
Verner stroked his beard, looking gratified.
With just one look, he knew that the Muen Campbell before him was worlds apart from the useless playboy of the past. Beneath that still-handsome exterior was a terrifying aura that made even him feel a chill. That physical body had clearly been tempered through a thousand fires; even the death winds that ravaged the Abyss likely couldn't knock him down.
"No need for more praise. Oh, right, Uncle Verner, before you help my father up, could you do me a small favor?"
"A small favor? What is it?"
"Help me..."
Muen, who had been wound tight for much longer than he had anticipated, gave an awkward but polite smile.
"...find a bed?"
"Huh? A bed?"
While Verner was still processing the request, he watched as that "body of steel" he thought couldn't be knocked down by the winds of death... simply collapsed.
"Young... Young Master Muen?"
Verner was horrified. "What... what's wrong? Were you ambushed by those demon bastards...?"
"No, no... I just put on a big show out there, and my stamina is a bit overextended." Muen’s face hit the floor, his smile turning into a grimace.
"Quick... find a bed!" Verner barked orders. Donnik panicked as well, having no idea where to find a spare bed in a fortress where even medical cots were in short supply.
In the end, out of desperation, he just started ripping a door off its hinges.
After a flurry of chaotic activity, Muen was finally lifted by Verner and Donnik onto a makeshift bed.
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
And then... the atmosphere fell into a bizarre silence.
"..."
The first meeting between this father and son after more than a year consisted of the two of them staring at each other awkwardly—one lying in bed, and the other sprawled out on a door.