Awakening the Great Bloodline

Chapter 124 — A Bolt from the Blue

Autumn deepens.

The vegetation blanketing the mountain ridges flaunts golden leaves, and the banners hanging from the ramparts flutter in the cool breeze. Morning sunlight seeps through it all with a gentle touch. A scene that appears tranquil at first glance. Yet nature's stillness retreats in an instant, and the war cries of mercenaries rush in to fill the void.

Calix drew a short breath as he gazed at the Paladin Fortress.

The frontline of the Astria Kingdom—and now a place fallen into the clutches of the Niboria Empire. The castle walls built around the cliffs were solid, but small enough that a thousand troops would fill it to capacity.

Marquis Ashapel had not handed it over quietly as he had promised beforehand, yet either way, he had not left any additional forces behind.

A total of sixteen thousand troops against a few hundred fortress defenders.

It was a battle whose outcome had been decided from the start.

'A large number of forces have converged near the gate.'

Ranita's bloodline ability pierces through the battlefield. The opposing side had no more than a couple of Upper-Rank Swordsmen—finding an opening was not particularly difficult.

"Basim, the western defense line is thin."

"Good! This body will go in!"

At the brief command, the veteran Mountain Rabbits moved without a moment's hesitation. Zahira, Volga, and Adrian followed behind, driving the newly joined mercenaries forward.

"Advance, advance! You idiots, get up the ladders first!"

"Don't hold back! That's how you die less!"

While inexperienced mercenaries hesitated, Volga was the first to climb the ladder.

He snapped a spear shaft that flew at his chest with the grip of his bare hand, then swung his iron club to crush his opponent's skull.

Only then did the fear drain from their faces. The newcomers swallowed hard, hunching their shoulders, yet mustered the courage to step forward.

Whoosh!

Soon after, with Elf Airien at the lead, the core members of the Mountain Rabbits hurled themselves forward one by one. The top of the wall was already chaos itself. Imperial shield-bearers were locked in a bloody struggle to hold back the surging enemies.

"Push them back out! Our allies are climbing from the rear!"

At Marik's instruction, the seasoned mercenaries plugged the gaps and widened the space.

Boom!

"Aargh!"

One after another, Volga swings his club to shatter the defensive formation. Shields splinter to pieces as the defenders are shoved hard to the inner side of the wall.

Once the shield-bearers crumble, the last line of defense collapses. The Mountain Rabbits and their subordinate mercenaries crossed the ramparts in a steady stream.

The screams of the routed soldiers rang out, and blood and dust mingled as they drifted through the air.

It was at that moment.

The thick gates slowly swung open.

Calix faltered at the gaze he felt from across the way. A man with drawn sword stood silently staring at him.

"Calix, he's calling for you."

Before Captain Royce could finish speaking, he stepped forward. One-on-one duels had become quite familiar by now. Only the positions had been reversed.

'Purple—an Upper-Rank Swordsman.'

The neural accelerator's output was not an absolute measure, but the thought of losing did not cross his mind. Not even a moment's carelessness was permitted.

Even so, there was no helping the way his mood strangely settled.

All the shouting, the clashing steel, the wailing—it all came to a sudden halt. Calix walked toward his opponent, watching the wounded being carried away.

Naturally, words came to him.

"Please surrender now. There is no need to shed any more blood."

But the opponent was a soldier of the Niboria Empire. Sure enough, a firm voice spilled out from between the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and his scarred beard.

"Living on is worse than death. A defeated commander has no right to protect his family, his comrades, or even his hometown."

He understood the other man's position, and yet felt a heaviness in his chest.

As a fortress commander, he would face punishment if he failed to fulfill his duty. That was why he had willingly shouldered the burden and stepped forward. He was offering his own life to save his subordinates.

Clear Mirror.

Calix holds the man's resolve up to the mirror. It looked strikingly similar to his former self. The standards by which he had lived—standards he thought would never change—had grown a little blurred at the edges.

Shiiing.

But soon, he drew his sword and asked the man's name.

"I would like to hear your name."

"I am called Vil, born and raised in Aeran."

"……I am Calix, of the Mountain Rabbits."

Only a single given name—no family name.

A commander of common birth.

Indeed, he was a man worthy of respect.

***

Calix felt an inner trembling for the first time since reaching the pinnacle of Top-Rank Swordsmanship. A middle-aged man of lowly origins crossed blades with him.

Of course, there was not the slightest difficulty in the one-on-one duel.

Falling Fire was the manifestation of will, and Geomhwa meant setting one's convictions upright. They appeared similar at a glance, but an enormous gap existed between the two—and this translated directly into Calix's overwhelming advantage.

Craaaaack!!

With a single clash, the flames kindled along the opponent's blade shattered into tiny fragments and scattered.

Commander Vil forced down the bitter fluid rising through his esophagus. The impact shook even the energy within his body, and the neural accelerator sounded a fierce warning.

Even so, he pressed forward without retreating.

Trading blows with the sword held no meaning. His high reputation was no empty boast—even simultaneous feints aimed at the upper and lower body were read entirely.

Thud!

So he boldly drove his shoulder inside his opponent's attack range to try to break his footing.

But Calix's body did not budge an inch. Without stopping there, the very moment his opponent entered his arms' reach—he raised his left hand and slapped the man across the face.

Both legs briefly gave way and one knee touched the ground, but the instant his senses returned, he charged again. An all-out offense with no regard for his own life. Calix took in every moment of it, committing it to memory.

A flicker of hesitation passed across the tip of his blade.

'I cannot save this man, nor rescue him.'

His thoughts grew tangled.

But it was neither confusion nor impulse. A natural flow. He had grown so extraordinarily fast up to now, and even in this very moment he was striving to climb to the next step.

Yes—he had been searching for the spark.

'What I believe to be right cannot become justice for everyone.'

In an instant, a lunging thrust aimed at the center came flying in, but he guided the blade away by joining it along the edge and smoothly redirected it outward. It was Master Belmar's Latian-style oceanic swordsmanship.

Realizations always arrive without warning.

Craaaa-boom!!

The opponent's follow-up attack is countered using the characteristics of heavy swordsmanship, pressing down with crushing weight. A slashing cut aimed at the flank was cut short midway. He had simply overpowered it with raw physical strength.

Click!

At that moment, Commander Vil released his longsword and forced his way in. He drew a dagger from his hip and drove it straight toward his opponent's heart.

'It is arrogance to believe I alone can save the entire world with my convictions.'

Shwaaack!

The outcome was decided in an instant.

The named blade Srna carved diagonally across the opponent's chest. The fortress defenders squeezed their eyes shut and let out anguished sighs, while the Mountain Rabbits nodded wordlessly.

And in that moment, Calix—

'So—what must I hold onto, and what must I let go. I need to find that answer.'

Stepped past the stage of Mirror of Clarity toward Empty Heart—and took the first step toward emptying his mind.

"Cough!"

The enemy commander coughed up blood and fell to his knees.

Rather than sorting through his thoughts, Calix met the man's eyes directly. In them, there was no fear, no anger, no resentment.

"My men…… my men have done nothing wrong……."

Only a sense of responsibility for those he had stood beside remained.

"……Those who do not resist will be allowed to return home alive."

"Hah, remarkable skill……."

Thump.

The relief in his eyes lasted only a moment. The light in the man's gaze faded away forever. Calix offered a brief bow of his head—a final show of respect toward the enemy commander.

A hollow emptiness that could not be erased remained in one corner of his heart, yet he had the feeling that before long, he would find the answer.

After that, it took only a matter of weeks before the entire Empire was shaken to its core. With all the border fortresses falling into the hands of the Mountain Rabbits, the Empire's southern flank lay wide open.

***

One week later.

The southern plains of Niboria were wide and still.

Beneath a deep blue sky, fields of barley and rye stretched out endlessly. On land where the harvest was complete, bundles of yellowed dry stalks were stacked in neat rows, and gray stone walls marked the boundaries between the fields.

Along the fences, already-harvested pea vines were withering away, and haystacks shuddered in the cold wind that occasionally swept across the plains.

In the midst of it all, Calix approached the first village alongside the Mountain Rabbits.

Every door was firmly shut, but wary gazes seeped through the cracks in the windows. At the arrival of an army large enough to fill the horizon, adults clutched children to their chests in silence, while the elderly straightened their backs from beyond the walls.

Volga observed the scene and offered a brief remark.

"Not a single human shadow in sight."

"It's not humans that are missing—it's the men."

"That's what I said."

At the good-natured reply, Zahira gave a small smile. In truth, there was no trace of able-bodied men left within the village.

Even so, as they exchanged quips, their eyes flashed ceaselessly without rest.

"Don't miss anything small. This is our first time setting foot in the Empire. Getting a read on the atmosphere is important."

"Goes without saying."

At that moment, a child of about ten appeared at the end of an alley. Strangely, rather than showing fear, there was an unfamiliar sense of wonder in the boy's eyes.

The boy's gaze fixed on the banner bearing the Mountain Rabbits' emblem, then drifted to the young man at the front. Quite literally—the boy seemed drawn in by the light on his face.

"……U-um, are you Calix, mister?"

While Calix answered with a smile, Royce and Marik exchanged a meaningful glance. There was no hostile feeling to it whatsoever.

The two immediately moved to reestablish order within the army. They made it explicitly clear to the unit captains of rank three and four that they were not to search the village storehouses or force any doors open.

In addition, those who entered the village itself were limited to key personnel.

Before long, an old woman emerged from the village square. She hobbled over leaning on a cane, bowed her head, and spoke in a pleading tone.

"Please show us mercy. Only the elderly, children, and women remain here. Those who knew how to fight were all dragged off to the east."

Calix looked around at the villagers slowly showing their faces. A woman pulled back the boy who had spoken to him earlier, yet in the end did not leave the spot.

In the people's eyes, anxiety and expectation crossed one another.

"We have not come to harm you. Please do not worry."

This was clearly something good for both sides.

***

Two days later, at the heart of Niboria's southern region—the Vistraat County.

Count Larenz Bermak surveyed the gray stone walls of the room. The embers in the fireplace had already died down. Outside the door, the silhouettes of two soldiers waited in quiet standby.

He was the ruler commanding the largest territory and forces in the southeastern region. Black hair, a deeply furrowed brow, and restrained movements bearing the mark of long military experience. Each time his gaze swept across the room, a heavy sense of pressure spread through the air.

And beside him, three prominent nobles sat gathered, waiting for the count's decision.

Edric Marzan, Crono Parcel, and Svern Broyer. If the southwestern region had Marquis Ashapel's house, then the southeastern region had Count Bermak and the three capable men who backed him.

But on this day alone, not one of them could easily open their mouths. Crono Parcel crossed his arms with his fists clenched, and Edric rubbed his face with frequent sighs.

"Fifteen thousand enemy troops alone……."

A deep sense of shock was plainly contained within that quiet lament. Soon after, Viscount Broyer cautiously offered his own opinion.

"More than eight villages have already fallen. At this rate, they will reach Godür before long. Collision is unavoidable. Above all, the greatest problem is that even scraping together our remaining forces, we cannot reach five thousand."

"Ashapel—that man clearly opened the road for them! I told you they were not to be trusted—"

"Enough."

The count raised a hand and cut off Parcel's words.

"That is a matter for later. We must deal with the situation directly before our eyes first."

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Count Larenz Bermak leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingertips against the table. Only the candle flame resting atop it swayed quietly.

'Growing older has only stiffened my mind.'

At this, Edric Marzan, who was at least among the younger of them, opened his mouth.

"Let us think clearly. Given the state we find ourselves in, does it matter what else we deliberate over? Negotiation is the only option we have."

He felt the same way if he were being honest with himself. Yet the seasoned count could not help but consider what lay ahead. Sure enough, Viscount Parcel raised exactly that point.

"Come to your senses! They are enemies who invaded from outside! We can barely manage even with united strength—what sort of shameful sight is this!"

At that, Svern Broyer stepped in with a low, measured voice.

"What you say has merit, yet there are times when one must accept reality. The fact that the south alone cannot stand against them is equally true."

And the meeting returned, once again, to where it had begun. Heated words flew back and forth, and objection after objection chased each other's tails. A problem with no answer. The count sank into deep contemplation.

'Is it reckless ambition that drives the Mountain Rabbits—or are they genuinely extending a hand?'

At some point, only silence filled the meeting chamber.

Then, from down the corridor, footsteps drew near. The count's attendant offered a brief bow and hastily delivered a single letter that had arrived from outside.

Written upon it was something that held the power to resolve all of this.

"Calix…… Ashapel."