Chapter 358

Timothy wrinkled the bridge of his nose. The sudden rush of blood mingled with the wind churned his stomach. The vanguard cavalry thundered ahead, their Burgos banners stained with the blood of the people of Clifford.

General Burgos, noticing Timothy’s faltering focus, called out sharply. He was the supreme commander of the current legion, the man with the final say.

“Sir Timothy! Is something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing.”

“Don’t let your attention wander. That thing trailing behind us could lash out at any moment. We must stay alert! The Clifford forces have begun moving their troops as well, so we need to press forward all the harder!”

The general laughed heartily and gestured. At once, the military band raised their horns and blew with all their might.

Bwooo, bwooo—the relentless blast shook the very earth. Birds disguised as leaves took flight, and creatures large and small scattered through the forest.

The booming sound was so heavy and loud it nearly deafened Timothy. Instead of steadying him, it made his head swim.

“Sir Timothy!”

“No, my apologies.”

“How can you be like this before such an important battle? When we return victorious, the king will reward you handsomely. I envy you, truly! So let’s live up to that honor. Thousands of soldiers follow us, do they not?”

The general nodded toward the rear, urging Timothy to look back—unaware that the gesture only unsettled him further.

Why am I even here?

As the chief diplomatic envoy, Timothy was essential for representing Burgos’s position at the border, securing justifications, or negotiating compromises. But why was he running side by side with the general? At times, he even found himself ahead of him. From a distance, it might look like he was leading thousands of troops himself.

Clack, clack!

Hiiing!

Military glory was a sensitive matter for warriors. Recognition and rewards for missions undertaken at the risk of death were everything. Above all, control over troops was power—and honor. Sharing soldiers beneath one’s command with another was hard to accept.

Yet the general seemed to welcome Timothy’s presence, readily accepting his orders and suggestions.

Everything was going smoothly, but an inexplicable unease gnawed at Timothy’s thoughts.

“Have a safe mission, my love.”

His wife’s farewell echoed in his ears more than usual. Though this was just another routine assignment, the fact that it was a war made her embrace all the more tender—and his children’s faces lingered in his mind.

Clack, clack!

The general glanced sideways at Timothy, recalling a secret meeting with the king before departure.

“You want Sir Timothy at the front? He’s no soldier.”

“I know. But his presence is a given. We’re just moving him forward.”

“Your Majesty, may I ask why? Leading the vanguard means taking responsibility for the war. If I can’t convince my men, the battle’s effectiveness will suffer.”

“Having Timothy up front will minimize casualties.”

“Pardon? What do you mean by that?”

“You’ll understand once you’re out there. Don’t stir up trouble. All the glory will be yours.”

The king’s intent was unclear, but his gaze forbade further questions. Timothy had no choice but to accept. After all, the king promised to provide everything he needed.

Honestly, the arrangement was odd but not problematic. Who could say if, as the king claimed, Timothy would take the arrows meant for others?

“A small town ahead. Once we pass it, we’ll be at the central outskirts of the capital!”

The general raised his telescope at his subordinate’s shout. A defensive wall came into view—tall and thick, much like the border fortifications, with soldiers moving atop it. Likely another company covering the rear, aside from the Clifford forces attacking from behind.

Nearby homes were deserted, clearly evacuated in preparation for the assault.

“How many battering rams remain?”

“Five.”

Each could carry dozens of men, so breaking through the wall should be straightforward. The general ordered a slowdown and gave further commands.

“We’ll unleash them. Prepare yourselves.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Those centipede things are pests—never move as we want, right, Timothy?”

If only they’d cluster and explode all at once. But these insect-like monsters always scurried off in every direction once released, making them a troublesome breed.

Timothy nodded in agreement but suddenly hesitated.

Swish.

While everyone else stared at the wall, Timothy raised his telescope to the sky. A tiny speck caught his eye. At first, he thought it was a bird, but its movement was unusual.

He soon realized it was humanoid and alerted the general.

“Wizards!”

---

“Wow, looking at them like this, they really are swarming.”

“Ugh, heavy. Beric, have you gained weight?”

“No, same as always.”

“Just the stuff in your belly weighs more than a person. Be careful not to drop your grip.”

“Yeah! If I let go, I’m dead for sure! At this height!”

Like Timothy, Ian scanned the entire force through his telescope. Thanks to Prince Noah’s blockade, the numbers seemed about half of what they’d heard—probably the vanguard company.

The clear division between right and left wings suggested an experienced general was leading them.

“Ian, should we zoom in more?”

“No, wait.”

Typically, the right wing carried weapons, the left shields—standard tactics assigning offense and defense. Though in Emperor Ian’s era, warfare had evolved through countless battles.

Judging by the situation, Damon’s intent was clear: this wasn’t a mere skirmish but the spark for something bigger.

I wish I knew who the general was. The border reports only mention Timothy.

Was this Damon’s strategy? Targeting Timothy specifically? It had been predicted since Damon’s contact with the traitors inside Clifford. Still, Ian had few options.

…For the sake of future Naum.

Though his presence had twisted history in some ways, from a broader perspective, the grand design remained intact. As long as Timothy lived, he had a chance to naturalize in Bariel—and that meant Naum’s existence was still possible.

Between Emperor Ian and his illegitimate son Ian lay a century. From a divine viewpoint, a blink of an eye; but for humans living through history, that instant had to accumulate into eternity.

And that instant was enough to change fate and lives.

“Ian, look! That’s what I was talking about! See the huge wagon in the middle of the formation? It’s right behind it!”

“Look! I see it too!”

“Don’t struggle, you’ll really fall!”

Following the wizard’s finger, Ian adjusted his telescope. Among the supply wagons appeared a strange creature.

“Ah…”

“Now you see why I couldn’t explain it before? I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Ian’s eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity. The wizard clenched his fists, eager for an answer.

But Ian’s reply surprised him.

“It’s my first time seeing it too.”

“What? Really? You’re joking, right?”

“No joke. Really.”

The wizard looked stunned, as if hearing nonsense. Ian chuckled and handed the telescope to Beric, who frowned as he examined the bizarre creature walking among the soldiers.

“Uh? Oh, that’s it, that thing!”

“It’s a monster created by necromancy.”

“Yeah, that one!”

“Beric, enough with the know-it-all act, will you?”

“No, I know it. I’ve seen it before. When we passed Karenna village, Hasha was a person but looked like a dog. They said it was because he died. Ian, right? Am I right? Answer me!”

What nonsense.

The wizards frowned, debating whether to stop the conversation. But Ian smiled fondly and nodded.

“Right. I’ll tell you about Karenna when we have time. For now, know this: it’s made by necromancy. Let’s see what parts they stitched together…”

All the soldiers leading the monsters wore masks covering their noses against the stench. The creature’s body was the size of a wagon, shaped like a bear with a lizard’s head, its hide covered in sharp spikes.

Ian murmured,

“Judging by its gait, the body is probably Bergman, the head Tiephe, and the spikes are poisonous weapons.”

“Bergman? Oh, I know! The reddish-brown bear, right?”

“How did Burgos catch that? It must have been tough with just soldiers.”

“Maybe they only got the corpse. Necromancy can even dig up graves if needed, they say.”

“But if it crawls that slowly, isn’t it pretty useless? Shua, we’re in the sky right now!”

When Beric playfully kicked at the air, the two mages staggered, gripping their staffs tightly.

“Even if we’re tough, Cliffford’s different. You’ve never seen Bergman, right? He looks slow, but he’s insanely fast.”

“You haven’t seen him either.”

“Of course not! Bears tear people apart.”

“I can tear people apart too.”

“…What am I even saying to you? Forget it.”

The mages warned Beric about the danger, but their expressions clearly showed they weren’t taking it too seriously. They turned to Ian.

“Ian, what should we do? Wouldn’t it be better to stop them before they reach the walls? The King of Cliffford officially requested our help, and I don’t see the point in unnecessary conflict. Let’s just wipe them out.”

The Burgos forces had already broken through, so sweeping them away made sense. The “unnecessary conflict” referred to potential casualties on Cliffford’s side.

Ian watched the army’s formation slow down and asked,
“…Everyone knows Bergman, but no one seems to know Tiefe.”

Oof. That hit a nerve.

He was about to brush it off with a knowing nod, but Beric caught the moment and burst out laughing, reading the mages’ faces.

“Ha! Gotcha, idiots.”

“This won’t do. Beric, I’m letting go.”

“Sorry! Ahhh, sorry!”

Tiefe flicked out his long tongue with ease, snatching prey. It could be left like a trap on the ground to pull in, or snatch flying targets like a hand.

The problem was, the tongue was unimaginably long.

“That won’t reach this far! Just blast ‘em!”

“Even if the soldiers can, can you actually hit it?”

“What does it matter? Just pop the heads of those under the necromancer’s control! Those lizard heads are huge! Just bash ‘em in!”

“This is a result of combining various things. Would they really expose such a weakness so openly?”

“Huh? Then what?”

Ian noticed the left and right flanks slowly closing in. The synthetic monsters they’d brought numbered about thirty, as far as he could tell. It was possible they had other monsters besides the white horned ones.

“They protect their outer shell with poison-coated spikes. The real head is inside that body. Unless you split it open and crush it, you can’t kill it. They’re basically already dead.”

“So, we have to get close.”

“There’s another way, though.”

A massive black wave. Either the necromancer was inside it or hiding separately. Find and kill the necromancer. Either way, this was going to be a tricky fight.

Ian nodded and signaled to return to the palace. They needed to coordinate with Cliffford for a joint attack.