Chapter 138
Chapter 138 — Eve of the Decisive Battle
The Mountain Rabbits finished reorganizing and set off toward the imperial capital. The metallic clang of armor and weapons, the footsteps of messengers passing back and forth, and clipped commands echoed faintly through the air. The entire procession was wrapped in an invisible tension.
At its center was Calix.
Even so, the knight commanders kept approaching him, one after another, to exchange words.
"I never imagined we'd end up on the same side. And in such a short span of time, no less."
He had no choice but to slow his horse's pace. Banners symbolizing the alliance fluttered overhead, and the knights' shields tilted ever so slightly.
When Calix turned his head, the knight commander of the Silver Falcon—Nuvel Groxat—offered a gesture of goodwill. They had once been adversaries, but after Imran Akran became the thread connecting them, there was nothing standing in the way.
If that was true of the knight commander of House Ashapel, what could be said of the others?
"I couldn't help but be impressed by what I witnessed. Your reputation is no exaggeration."
The knights' armor clinked with a low resonance. Calix kept his gaze forward and answered only with a silent nod, letting the words pass.
"I'll be joining the next charge alongside you."
Someone expressed admiration in a deep, measured voice, while another made clear his strong desire to take part in the vanguard. They were all smiling, yet at the same time, they sensed a distance that could not easily be crossed. Calix made no effort to tear down that wall.
Just as Royce and Marik were stepping in to settle the mood, an older knight suddenly broke through and addressed him.
"Sir Calix, it's been a long while. I am Rosser, a knight of Baron Pentan's house."
"…Have we met before?"
"Yes. A very long time ago, I once stood guard at Lady Elnora's side."
Elnora Ashapel. The moment his mother's name brushed past his ear, buried emotions stirred within his chest. The warmth of her breath came back to him, vivid and alive. And beside her had been Baron Pentan.
The woman had remarried to protect the child she had borne as an illegitimate son.
…He was my stepfather.
He had been a good man.
The age gap between them had been significant, yet he had served without fail as a bulwark protecting mother and son. He had always shown the same steady, broad back—even on the day Calix was dragged away as a mine slave, he had tried desperately to find some way, any way.
Calix slowed his pace for a moment and exhaled a quiet breath.
Something stirred deep inside him. He had many things he wanted to ask.
But not now.
He quickly returned to the face of a warrior standing on the eve of battle.
"Calix."
At the low, resolute call that followed, he raised his head immediately. Imran Akran was waiting.
***
Thirty thousand elite soldiers crossed the plains. The season was drawing close to winter, yet the sunlight burned like summer. Far away along the horizon, snowcapped mountain peaks bared their skin. Among the yellowed and withered brush, the carcasses of beasts lay scattered, giving off a rancid smell.
Imran looked out at the scene and eased his reins.
"What you see is not everything."
Calix listened carefully to his words. Even with so little time to spare, the Master found every available moment to impart his teachings.
Since a wounded body could not recover overnight, he had chosen instead to cultivate the growth of the young man before him.
"The moment you enter acceleration, the world transforms entirely. But you must judge clearly whether all of it is true. That is especially so when facing Kohtan. It drives a single thrust through the gaps between lies."
"Does that mean… I should not rely on my five senses?"
And Calix kept pace remarkably well. Imran smiled faintly and gave a small nod.
"I know your senses are exceptional. Your reaction speed and concentration are beyond reproach. But you must not lean on them alone. The creature fabricates even the flow of energy. It surges hard in one direction, then reverses itself in an instant."
Calix's eyes narrowed. His fingers tightened around the reins.
"It flows in reverse."
As his words trailed off, the warhorse's mane swayed gently with each stride. Imran forcibly pulled down the corner of his mouth and gave a firm nod.
"That's right. Because of that, belief in oneself matters more than anything."
Crack.
Suddenly, a fragment of bone was crushed beneath a horse's hoof. Calix looked down instinctively. The blood and flesh had vanished entirely, and only a rusted helmet remained, half-buried in the ground.
Volga let out a long, uncomfortable breath, and soon after, Hadiya led several dozen cavalry out to scout the surrounding area.
"How empty have you made it."
Once again, Imran drew his attention back. Calix recognized that the other man was asking about the level of his swordsmanship.
Empty Heart—the stage of emptying the heart.
Surprisingly, it was not easy to answer. He had resolved to empty himself, yet looking back, it seemed he had accumulated just as much in return.
Sure enough, a sharp critique followed.
"Your sword's path has become simpler. This is not a compliment. You've been so fixated on stripping things away that you've lost what made you strong. You've been consumed with releasing energy, but the edge of your blade has grown dull in the meantime."
"I…"
"Have you been intoxicated by power?"
Calix's mouth closed. He wanted to say he was moving in the right direction, but his instincts shook their head.
Even in the last battle, he had been caught up purely in expelling energy. He had broken through the defensive line and dealt with the tunneling worms. But there had been no contemplation of swordsmanship.
Yes.
He had lost his way.
Imran spoke in a calm, almost soothing voice.
"Of course, this is partly because you are too exceptional. ‘Empty Heart’, by nature, is something one arrives at through long deliberation, searching for the answer within oneself. But for us, that thing called 'time' is in short supply."
Both of their gazes turned to Adrian at the same moment, as though by prior arrangement. The man who had warned them of what lay ahead was moving busily between the rows of the procession.
"There's a ravine straight ahead! We need to split the forces into three groups! You there—halt, then move out!"
A short while later, the direction of the wind changed. The smell of dry earth spread first. Then, faintly, the scent of iron and blood seeped in. By the time the tip of his nose began to sting, the mouth of a ravine appeared at the edge of his vision. Amid the sweltering heat, the stench of rotting flesh and burning oil drifted outward.
Royce immediately creased his brow.
"It doesn't belong to the living. That's the smell of a body in decay."
Whether fortunate or not, the response that followed was left to the Mountain Rabbits to handle. Calix met the captain's eyes, then turned back to the conversation.
Just a little more.
Something felt almost within reach, yet remained just out of grasp.
"…Then what should I do?"
"Keep what is truly necessary, but distinguish first."
The advice he had once heard from Yoman, Lord of the Desert, flashed through his mind. He had heard something vaguely similar back then as well. Yet the meaning contained within it had been entirely different.
"What makes you strong? Is it energy, swordsmanship, or the Neural Accelerator? Where does that foundation originate?"
Imran gave him ample time to think. Hadiya returned from her patrol and reported that the Corrupted were lying in ambush within the ravine.
Two hours later, by the time Master Imran returned covered in blood, Calix had reached an answer after long deliberation.
"It is myself. The moment I as an existence disappear, every ability loses its meaning."
The other man's gaze passed straight through Calix.
"Correct. However, that is not power. It is nothing more than a mere means."
It was half an answer.
Immediately after the battle, just as the march resumed, the veteran Mountain Rabbits and even Imran's own disciples walked side by side, quietly eavesdropping on the two men's exchange.
Volga felt that what was good was good—but Imran Akran had never once explained things to him in such careful detail.
"Take the Neural Accelerator, for example. It does nothing more than show where and how to use the power already within me."
Calix's eyelids slowly descended.
His heart beat one measure slower. The murmuring of the knights reached his ears, but he pressed Imran's counsel quietly and deeply into the innermost part of himself.
***
Two days later.
The warhorses picked up speed and crossed the level plain. The imperial capital of the Niboria Empire had already narrowed to a single day's distance.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud.
Calix rode out across the flat terrain, kicking up a cloud of dust. As part of Hadiya's mounted reconnaissance unit, they had set out to confirm the range of Kohtan's influence.
Yet within his mind, the same subject continued to circle.
‘Until now, I believed my own abilities were everything.’
It had been a misconception.
Just as Imran had said, Calix had been dragged along by his own power. Riding on horseback, he looked down at his own hands.
Sss-tssssssst!
Atop his palm, the energy of darkness and chaos slowly rotated within a sphere. Across that unknown current, Midra's cold layered a film of ice over it.
It was a power that was sharp, heavy, and seeped to the marrow of one's bones.
Yet he looked at the same thing in a different way.
Instead of being swallowed, he seized it first.
‘It is mine.’
Calix cast off his hesitation. The Neural Accelerator, too, and the heart's core—both were nothing more than tools. In that case, the dark energy was no different.
‘The master is myself.’
At his fingertips, a faint trembling still remained. Both the darkness and the chaos—he had not yet fully tamed either. But at the very least, he knew now which direction he needed to move.
When he raised his head once more, the light of resolve flickered in Calix's eyes.
***
That night, the allied forces made camp on the final high ground leading to the capital. The night air already carried the scent of the battlefield. The bonfires kept dying out of their own accord, and there was no trace of the soldiers' laughter or the smell of cooking.
Against the pitch-black sky, the distant lights of the capital flickered as if about to go out. Tens of thousands of the Corrupted packed the area before the walls, and the reconnaissance units moved without rest to observe the enemy's movements.
"What's the range for drawing out the enemy forces?"
"Here—I've marked it with flags."
Zahira extended a finger and pointed across the map. Hadiya nodded in agreement and added her own words.
"It's roughly the same position where the patrol riders were unhorsed."
"The riders fell from their horses?"
"Yes. The warhorses started foaming at the mouth and went into convulsions. Past a certain point, they became uncontrollable."
The veterans gathered in a circle, quietly exchanging opinions. Each of them was sharpening swords or polishing their gear, but unease seeped through the low-spoken words that passed between them.
"Drawing the creatures outside seems doable, but the problem is they keep reviving."
"We'll just have to hold on until the vanguard takes down Kohtan. The one silver lining is that the mental burden is lighter than when we faced Midra."
"That's true, but… Honestly, I'm disappointed. I wanted to join the vanguard too."
"You?"
"It's going to be extraordinarily dangerous, but even so, someone like me can't be left out, can I?"
Just as Volga and Romance were making their vows—half in jest, half in earnest—Gregor quietly slid himself in between the two. In his hands was a silver shield, polished to a gleam.
"No good, Volgi. You don't know how to use Falling Fire. You'd need to be at least an Upper-Rank Swordsman, otherwise you'd be soiling yourself on the spot."
"…Yes, sir, I know that much myself."
"Ahh, I fully understand the feeling of disappointment. You were pushed back from the front line, weren't you? It's perfectly understandable to be disheartened."
"When you put it that way—"
"But I made it in. Gregor is in the vaaan-guard~!"
"…"
The small laughter from those around them briefly covered the tension, but the chill brushing against the back of their necks quickly quieted it again.
At that moment, Imran looked at Calix's face in the firelight and asked.
"Do you feel yourself to be incomplete?"
The young man answered quietly.
"…Yes. It seems I have not yet equipped myself with the proper qualifications."
He admitted plainly that he had not reached the level of ‘Empty Heart’. The Master had given him instruction, but there had simply not been enough time.
Imran neither smiled nor reproached. As though this were a natural result, he poked the fire with a branch and continued speaking.
"The circulation of energy is, in essence, the expression of will. It simply moves in the direction one points, so there is no need to be impatient."
For a brief moment, the conversation between the two fell silent. In the meantime, Royce went again to check on the warhorses, while Marik moved from place to place throughout the encampment, encouraging the members.
Calix knew that Imran's words were right.
‘It's true that my heart is in a hurry.’
Even so, the energy of Kohtan, coiled and hardened in midair, caught in his eyes. A dense and immense darkness had pooled in one place, and before long he would have to step into the very heart of it.
Without thinking, he glanced over at the Vice-captain's face. Had it not been for Ella's divinity, he would have lost his life to Midra's cold.
‘Who will die this time.’
That was Calix's lingering regret—and his fear. At that, Imran Akran gave the slightest shake of his head. Remarkably, he had read his inner thoughts precisely.
"Fear makes a person shrink. But when used rightly, it can also make the heart harder."
This was surely the final teaching on the eve of the decisive battle. Calix pricked up his ears, afraid to miss even a single word.
At that moment, the sound of clattering armor came from beside him. A silver shield caught the faint firelight.
"Now, that line… It feels like I've heard it somewhere before. Hmmm, I can't remember. What was it?"
Gregor raised a fist and tapped his temple.
To the Mountain Rabbits it was an everyday sight, so Calix allowed himself a faint smile—but across the fire, Imran's eyes flickered with a heavy light.
"Is it that you cannot remember, or that you have chosen to forget."
In the brief silence that followed, Calix caught the subtle dissonance and stiffened his expression.
‘Have the two of them met before?’
Whether or not he was aware of this, Gregor shrugged his shoulders and answered loudly.
"Perhaps it's both!"
He laughed brightly, but through Imran's burning gaze, an old shadow passed. Clearly, the two had met before.
It had been over a decade ago.