Land of the Blood Demons (6)
The army’s departure was delayed by three days. They needed time to burn the mountain of ratmen corpses piled up inside and outside the city walls.
With a whoosh!
They dug pits, gathered debris from ruined buildings, and stacked the half-human, half-beast bodies on top before setting them ablaze.
Thanks to the fire mages, the flames never faltered, burning steadily. For three days, acrid smoke rose from dozens of pits outside the walls.
The soldiers, who had fought valiantly during the midnight assault, were rewarded with a special feast. Enough meat and drink to last them three days.
“Those damn rat bastards. What were the ones from the southern forests doing all the way up here?”
“Well, rumor has it… they’re part of the Shadow Moon Clan. You know, that legendary group of assassins from the history books!”
“Hah! Shadow Moon Clan, my foot! Sven, you’re mixing up history with fairy tales.”
“The Empire’s been kidnapping non-humans to use as slave soldiers for ages. These guys are just more of the same. If they were legendary assassins, we’d be the ones dead!”
The soldiers laughed and joked as they tore into roasted lamb, washing it down with the provided ale. Initially, they complained about the stench of burning bodies, but a few drinks in, they were too busy laughing and jesting.
”······.”
High above, on the city wall of Revivach, Dalen sat, sipping a local brew, watching the scene below. It was a gift from Felber, a specialty of the city.
“This will be the soldiers’ last rest before crossing the border.”
Crunch.
A light footstep sounded behind him, the noise of leather boots scuffing against broken stones.
“Once we enter Imperial territory, we’ll advance swiftly. Even if we can’t capture the capital immediately, we need to seize the northern regions to strangle the Empire.”
Sienna brushed off some dust and debris and sat beside Dalen. She held a small bottle of tea.
“Never seen anyone drink tea from a liquor bottle before.”
“I’m one of the best scouts in this unit. If I got drunk and let my guard down, we’d be ambushed before crossing the border.”
“Then why carry the bottle at all?”
“Sometimes, you have to play along with the mood.”
Dalen chose not to retort, instead taking a long swig of his herbal liquor.
“You’re not from this world, are you?”
“···Pfft!”
“Didn’t mean to shock you that much. Shame about the wasted drink, though.”
Dalen shook his head, glancing at Sienna. Her face was half-hidden by her silky black hair, her witch’s eyes as dark as ever.
Her pupils, like the twilight sky, sparkled like jewels peeking through a dark veil. Deep within, a white magical light flickered, her eyes curving softly like a crescent moon.
Dalen had seen that gleam in her eyes before, even from behind a monitor. He took another sip and spoke.
“You’ve broken through the barrier.”
“It’s been a while. Thanks for the belated congratulations.”
“So, can I expect great things when we face the Blood Lord?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know. You already understand my domain’s landscape, don’t you?”
…I really don’t.
Beyond the visible effects and the resulting buffs, the true nature of a domain’s power was a mystery, even from behind a monitor. One could only guess the process from the situation and results.
For instance, knowing Lucia’s domain allowed for near-perfect sniping against demons, or that the lightning mage Deltarion wielded various colored lightning.
‘When Sienna opened her domain, white and black feathers would often appear.’
Dalen recalled scenes as he swallowed the bitter liquor. In none of those scenes did she survive.
Meanwhile, Sienna sipped her tea and began to speak slowly.
“From the first time we met, I found you intriguing. You seemed indifferent to everything around you, yet you always found and helped those in need.”
“Let’s just say I have a good sense.”
“You’re a mercenary who moves for pay, but not just for money. You fought the enemy before you while envisioning a distant future, like moving pieces on a grand chessboard.”
The bottle, half-full moments ago, was now empty. Even tipping it upside down yielded only a few drops.
“You knew I was a witch from the start.”
Her tone was calm, certain.
“And you knew Bourbon was the dragon my ancestor made a pact with.”
That bartender, blinded by affection.
For someone who’s lived thousands of years, you’d think he’d keep secrets, but not in front of his granddaughter.
“The Archmage of Elgaia thinks you’re a regressor, but I disagree. Living for thousands of years and repeating hundreds of lives are entirely different. If it were the latter, your humanity would be completely eroded.”
“What’s your point?”
“Your habit of poking around various places, your rapid growth after defeating powerful foes.”
Sienna closed her eyes, her lashes trembling, her breath slightly uneven.
What’s with her? She spills everything and then acts like this?
“The Well of Reversal gathers the possibilities of countless timelines and chooses a being to break their conclusion. I think you’ve experienced all those worlds but haven’t lived them directly.”
Her tense expression was unlike her usual self. As someone who had lived as an informant in the back alleys before becoming the Feathered Witch, it was even more surprising.
Even though she was closer to the truth than anyone, why did she look like that?
Not knowing the reason, Dalen chose silence.
“A being that watches the world from outside and intervenes at critical moments. It’s the same story as the war god the Paladins worship, the hero who saved the continent in the Great War thousands of years ago.”
“Are you saying I’m a god?”
“Who knows. A god? An ascendant? An outsider? I can’t say.”
Sienna shook her head, her long hair veiling her face.
Just as Dalen thought it was an anticlimactic conclusion, she spoke again.
“Before we left for the north, you asked me.”
“Hmm?”
“If I was afraid you’d die.”
Her black hair fell over her shoulders as she lifted her head to meet Dalen’s gaze.
“I am afraid.”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“Your eyes, cherishing this world yet seeing it as not your own. Your willingness to fight on the front lines, yet always watching from a step back.”
”······.”
“I’m scared that at the end of this journey, you won’t stay with us.”
The smoke from the burning pits, which had risen for three days, had finally begun to dissipate. Some of the refugees who had fled returned upon seeing the smoke.
With the city fortified, the allied forces left Revivach, leaving only a minimal garrison, and resumed their march south.
The well-fed and rested army’s morale was sky-high. The horrors witnessed in Revivach fueled their desire for vengeance against the Empire.
The border garrison’s resistance crumbled quickly. The same was true for the village of Rengleton just below the border and the small towns beyond.
“Attack! Bring down the walls!”
“The Master of the Dragon Carriage fights with us!”
“Topple the Emperor and the Pantheon! Free the slaves!”
The ancient warriors of the Golden Bow, with centuries of experience, were as strategic as they were powerful. They used the unique abilities of each transcendent to conquer fortresses and cities.
After Sienna’s birds scouted enemy movements, the Pyromancer Luktaves launched fire pillars to shatter the walls.
While the Earth Guardian Rook’s golems battered the gates, Azra, the Master of the Dragon Carriage, toyed with the enemy atop the walls, boosting the soldiers’ morale.
With Everon, who shared thoughts across dozens of bodies, in charge of command, even chaotic battles never spiraled out of control.
Scout. Attack. Conquer.
After brief rests and resupply, they marched again.
As they captured fortresses and small to medium-sized cities over several weeks, evidence of the Blood Lord’s involvement with the Pantheon began to surface.
Whenever the Empire faced a dire situation, vampires and undead soldiers appeared to aid them.
Eventually, vampire forces were even seen among the garrison troops of some fortresses.
Interrogating the prisoners revealed that the capital had already officially announced an alliance with the Vampire Count.
On the front lines with the neighboring small kingdoms, there were even reports of vampires joining the Pantheon as allies, demonstrating exceptional prowess.
“I can’t understand it. Letting those who feast on human blood within our walls. How could anyone in their right mind…”
“Sir Lucia, there’s no place where humans become more irrational than the battlefield.”
“…”
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend, as they say. When the blade is at your throat, even yesterday’s foe can become today’s hero. And if it’s an enemy from 400 years ago, barely remembered? A few months is more than enough.”
Felber was right. War numbs reason and fuels anger.
For parents clutching the cold bodies of their children returned from the battlefield, grand ideals and justifications were nothing but hollow ornaments.
The Pantheon understood this well. They wielded anger as a weapon to sway the masses.
The closer they got to the capital, the fiercer the resistance from the cities became, and even after overwhelming them with force, stabilizing the regions took longer and longer.
A month and a half had passed since they crossed the imperial border. The city coalition, which had been advancing with unstoppable momentum, was beginning to lose steam.
“Dalen. The scouts have spotted the main imperial forces.”
On a night when the full moon hung in the sky, Everon knocked on Dalen’s tent door.
“A large-scale battle will break out within three days. If you intend to head to the Vampire Count’s territory, tonight is your last chance.”