Awakening the Great Bloodline

Chapter 159: Stones and People

In the early hours before dawn, Calix had a dream for the first time in a long while. It was his first since receiving the Core of Chaos from the Gatekeeper.

Shadows blanketed the ground beneath his feet, and starlight streamed down from above. From within that deep, dark mire, twelve eyeballs slowly rose to the surface. They gazed quietly into his soul.

It was Draug.

[The dark devours the bright. Yet you, Calix, have not been submerged in shadow. Is it Kriya's interference, or your own will?]

The Corrupted Lord, De Generitum, no longer appeared. Even so, the connection to Draug remained.

It had been observing the path Calix had walked. And at its end, it had come face to face with a tremendous question.

[How can this be?]

The impossible had become reality. To have been eroded by darkness, yet remain unbroken. No—he was even growing stronger in the power of Chaos. It was a result no mere monster could ever comprehend.

Calix did not answer.

In truth, he too was confronting questions within himself.

What is fate?

When he had been hunted by the Imperial Army in the Astria Kingdom, Imran Akran had let him live. Though Imran had clearly been able to cut him down, he had turned the blade aside and walked away. When they met again, the two had fought together against Kohtan.

Prince Darvan, on the other hand, had not survived. Calix had taken his life with his own hand. The one born to become emperor had fallen, bleeding the blood of a man.

Calix had survived, and he had vanished. The blade that divided life from death—where had that difference come from? Whose choice had it been?

'What set us apart.'

Suddenly, the image of Gregor overlapped in his mind. The bond between the veteran of the Silver Shield Legion and Imran was remarkable in its own right. What manner of thing was life, that it had caused a weathered old soldier to illuminate a Master's final moments?

And then there was his father. What had the mad magitech engineer—Nilo—been thinking when he implanted the neural accelerator in Calix? Had he been nothing more than a subject in an experiment, or had Nilo known the truth—that this was his own flesh and blood? Even tracing back through his memories, no clear answer surfaced.

The moment that cold hand had brushed the back of his neck, the mingled scent of blood and iron had swallowed whole the memories of his childhood.

Perhaps the Gatekeeper had been right.

For the first time, Calix felt the current of the world. The sensation of moving within a framework laid out by someone else. He looked squarely at the thing Adrian so often cursed as 'that wretched thing'—fate.

Yet in the end, he lowered his head without finding an answer. The fragments of the past seemed to tangle and intertwine, forming a single unbroken thread. He felt as though he were nothing more than a puppet walking a predetermined road.

At the same time, the tighter that thought gripped his chest, the stronger the will that surged up from within. Calix had not forgotten the burden he carried on his shoulders. He could not afford to crumble now.

'Even if fate has laid the road—the end of it is mine.'

The dreamscape shattered. The black surface broke apart, shards of light scattering outward, and the cold air of dawn drove itself into his lungs.

He snapped his eyes open. Draug had said nothing, even to the last.

There is no need to rush. This time too, the answer will not be far. Someday, he would find it with his own hands.

* * *

Before the morning sun had even risen, the Allied Forces set out along the road crossing the mountain range to the northeast. Footsteps scattered without pattern across the frozen earth, and the column stretched long along the mountainside amid sweat and ragged breath.

Calix lifted his gaze toward the ridgeline.

"To think we'd be coming back here."

As Hadiya had said, the route was not unfamiliar. It was the mountain pass he had crossed with no more than a few dozen Mountain Rabbits, at the request of Sier Lagrin. Back then, they had gone back and forth rejoicing over the warhorses and armor obtained from the Elvra Holy Empire—but now, tens of thousands of troops marched in a column stretching far behind them.

Banners surged and rippled in the wind, and thousands of warhorses kicked up clouds of dust. But the landscape beyond was bleak to a brutal extreme.

"……Should I say I saw this coming?"

"It looks like someone scattered ash over everything. The land is withered and dead."

The border regions of Elvra had lost all vitality.

The sites where checkpoints had once stood were swept clean. Villages half-collapsed from fire dotted every turn in the road, and within the stone enclosures, the blackened bones of livestock were heaped in layers. Valley streams ran putrid, carrying the rusty smell of iron through the air.

Bleached bones drew the soldiers' eyes for a moment—but only a moment. At some point they grew accustomed to the sight, and simply moved on.

"Even after the war ends, this will be a problem."

Sier Lagrin, the interim Pope, could not conceal his troubled expression. At this, Yelayen offered words that seemed meant to console.

"The forces of darkness have been in control for quite some time, haven't they. Time has a way of resolving many things. For now, we must focus on reclaiming what was lost."

Just then, a strange stone pillar came into view on the side of a hill. The column came to a natural halt, and Calix guided his horse forward toward it.

At first he had taken it for a gravestone, but the closer he drew, the clearer it became that this was no simple block of rock.

"……Who would do something like this."

"Who else—it'd be those bastards that crossed over from the Land of Shadows."

To Volga's lament, Basim spat a coarse curse.

On the surface of the black stone pillar, fragments of the human body had been embedded. Some were frozen with only a finger protruding, others with no more than a third of their face exposed. Mouths left open looked as though they might sob at any moment, and hollow eye sockets let out a low, mournful sound each time the wind brushed past.

It was neither carved stone nor mere flesh. The boundary was blurred—yet everyone grasped it instinctively. Those who had fallen here could not be buried in the earth. The consequences of defeat were laid bare without shame.

"……Calix?"

In that moment, Calix seized Volga by the shoulder and shoved him back. Dark mana was reaching out from the surface of the pillar.

[Warning. Mental contamination detected.]

Only after stumbling back several steps did Volga realize that cold sweat was running down the back of his neck. The clergy immediately began reciting prayers.

Calix watched the scene from atop his horse in silence. His cold gaze fixed itself on the black pillar. It was the handiwork left behind by Legion Commander Verhas.

"This is a warning. He already regards this as his own land."

As Yelayen said, this was different from before. Rather than invading the land of men, he had taken root and was preparing to receive Calix's offensive.

And so Calix, too, had to give the enemy his answer.

"Before we settle this—we need to shake the enemy's foundations."

"Their foundations?"

"Given that we are facing a malevolent entity, we must gather the survivors. The clergy of the Order."

In the midst of all this, a soft hymn spread through the air around them.

It was Ella.

"O Kriya. Release those bound by earth and blood, and let the husks of shadow scatter as dust. Tears become rivers, and rivers return again to the sea—"

As the sacred law incantation completed, the shrinking unease among the soldiers began to settle. Shortly after, a red mist seeped out from the surface of the pillar—yet it spread no further than that.

Witnessing the phenomenon, Sier stepped forward.

"That is a contamination devouring the land itself. We cannot leave it as it is. Sir Calix, we must reclaim the Sacred Ground first."

He declared it with a voice full of conviction. It was not to contest the leadership of the Allied Forces. It was a desperation rooted deep in faith.

Yet at the same time, those words were the opening act of a conflict with Ella.

"We must save the living first."

"……."

Beliefs collided.

* * *

In a sense, it was an old conflict.

Ella had grown up witnessing the hypocrisy of the Order. She had watched with her own eyes as those of high standing received treatment while those of low standing died. It was the reason she had left the Empire behind and joined the Mountain Rabbits.

Sier Lagrin, on the other hand, carried the weight of the interim Pope's title on his back. The revival of the Elvra Holy Empire rested in his hands.

And so, when the Allied Forces reached the next regional stronghold, master and disciple were bound to come into sharp conflict.

"There are people here!"

Inside a small city reduced to rubble, the vanguard heard groaning sounds from beneath a blackened altar. When the stone slab was lifted, those who had hidden in the basement came into view.

Arms flailing at the air, survivors were tangled together amid limp corpses. Most were not in their right minds.

At the sight of them covered in blood and filth, the soldiers' faces hardened. Some looked away; others clenched their teeth.

Sier Lagrin spoke with a heavy expression. His eyes carried compassion, but his voice held an unyielding firmness.

"Rescuing these people alone is not enough. We must see the larger picture. The Beacon of Souls must be relit. Only then will the survivors scattered across the land have hope."

At those words, Marquis Ashapel gave a nod. The nobles affirmed it in silence. The reclamation of the Sacred Ground was a matter of faith—and directly tied to the direction of the battlefield. The Order would need to reclaim at least a minimum foothold before it could be of any use.

But immediately after, Ella spoke, supporting an injured woman covered in blood.

"The living are the pillars of Kriya. What meaning do stones and altars—what meaning does that Sacred Ground hold? The people right before our eyes are the very goal we pursue."

It was a stronger voice than was typical of her.

Sier did not yield.

"Have we not already discussed this. Between its value as a supply base and the long-term view—the Beacon of Souls must be reclaimed first. The survivors can be rescued afterward. It is not too late."

"……Who decides what is too late and what is not?"

"Ella!"

At the heavy shout, the woman's shoulders trembled. Her master was a Rank 5 Cleric. He had not yet reached Rank 6—the level of Full Bloom—yet he bore the title of interim Pope upon his shoulders.

Even so—

"Sier Lagrin, that is not for you to decide."

"……."

Ella had changed as well.

Her voice trembled, but it carried through to the end. With resolve gleaming in her eyes, the Mountain Rabbits naturally shifted their feet to stand behind her. Royce closed his eyes and let out a slow breath.

Marik approached with a hand resting on his sword hilt; Basim and Zahira exchanged a grinning look and took their place at her side. Ella had quietly and steadily cared for the mercenaries all this time—and now it was their turn to repay the debt.

In an instant, the Allied Forces split into two groups.

"How can you disregard the importance of the Sacred Ground?"

"The lives of people come first. That is the faith we owe to Kriya."

Sier cried out again, and Ella gave back as good as she received. The internal fracture had grown large enough to be plainly visible to the eye.

At that, all eyes turned to one man. Standing in silence, yet holding the direction of this war in the palm of his hand—Calix.

* * *

Breathing settled heavily into the silence. The commanders had split down the middle, waiting on the words of a single person.

Calix finished his thoughts and slowly steadied his breath. If he sided with saving the survivors, the lives of tens of thousands—not as before—now hung in the balance. A single choice could send the entire Allied Forces down the road to ruin.

Yet he could not dismiss Ella's position either.

'She has a point.'

Evil things test the hearts of men. Without righteous cause, they are easily shaken—and quickly broken.

He raised his head and looked back and forth between the two sides.

Sier was unyielding, and Ella no less so. It was less a matter of who was right and more a matter of what to choose.

And so he opened his mouth, composedly.

"We will reclaim the Sacred Ground. But not yet."

It was a short, decisive statement. Those who had been murmuring fell silent.

Calix continued.

"It will take time to reach the Beacon of Souls. In the meantime, we will save as many people as we can. Fortunately, I have news passed on to me by the mage Cailo Pelderwin."

In other words, he would move with a small elite force within a set timeframe. Fortunately, the Mountain Rabbits had experienced something similar before. The conditions were far better than when they had rescued the wanderers.

A faint shadow fell across Sier's face. Yet he did not push back in the end. He knew the other party would not accept it.

Instead, he accepted the decision and replied in a low voice.

"Very well. But bear this in mind. If the Beacon falls, the Southern Order will be shaken from its very roots. That responsibility becomes the burden of us all."

"The responsibility is naturally mine."

"……I understand. I hope my worry proves wrong."

Ella answered with a silent look in his direction. Within those eyes lay something complex—neither joy nor relief.

'O Kriya.'

Her heart beat fiercely, driving all the way up to her ears. The trembling at her fingertips settled quietly still, and though her breath came in short gasps, her eyes alone did not waver.

She had realized, at last, that she had entered her second trial.

Who is right?

The Mountain Rabbits each had to decide their own answer—and then convince themselves of it.