Episode 578

Torches flickered all around the darkened barrier. The work of clearing away piles of rubble never ceased, and beside them lay heaps of soldiers clad in Burgos armor—bodies stacked like mountains.

Amid the carnage, a survivor was pulled out. Melania shone her torch on his face and gasped in shock.

“Clark!”

He was covered in dust and blood, barely breathing, his chest heaving as if he might collapse at any moment. It was a miracle he was still alive.

A healing mage rushed over and grasped Clark’s hand.

“Is that really Clark?”

“Yes, definitely. Clark, stay with us! Focus!”

“Right below! A palace guard! I see the uniform!”

“Pull him up! One, two, three!”

Nearby, Wakion—presumed to have been with Clark—lay curled up, dead. It seemed he had sacrificed himself holding up the collapsing barrier to protect Clark.

The mages let out sorrowful groans at the tragic loss, then stepped back to watch the approaching palace guards from a distance.

A deep sigh escaped.

One by one, the guards knelt. Of the five who had breached the barrier, three had fallen—Bonita, Kanna, and Wakion. No sign of Barsabe had been found yet, so what lay ahead was uncertain.

Melania gently wiped Clark’s face, her eyes quietly honoring the fallen.

Suddenly, Clark gripped her wrist tightly. Though his eyes remained closed, he muttered something.

“It seems… there’s a puppeteer among the Burgos…”

“Clark! Don’t speak—just focus on breathing.”

“Beric went to find him, and… from the gills of the Gypsies, I heard… something about Toolun…”

“Stop talking! It’s draining your magic! Hang on!”

“Ugh! Aaargh…”

A sharp buzzing filled the air.

Clark’s neck veins bulged as he groaned in pain, then he fainted.

Is he going to be okay? Melania glanced anxiously at the mages. Thankfully, their treatment seemed to be working—the relief on their faces was clear.

“The foundation of the barrier is visible! It looks like everyone buried has been pulled out. Shall we continue the work?”

As the soldiers waved their torches signaling, the palace guards’ eyes gleamed. They hadn’t even found Barsabe’s body yet, but already the bottom of the barrier was in sight. What could this mean?

“Clearly, Barsabe is chasing after Rutherford.”

“Ian, Captain Jarrett!”

“Hey, why wasn’t I called?”

“Beric, have you been drinking?”

“A little. Is that Wakion?”

“Yeah… he left first to find glory.”

“Well, we’ll all go eventually. Might as well take it slow.”

While Beric muttered, Ian, dressed lightly, climbed over the rubble. Soldiers who had thought him a mere child recognized him and quickly removed their hats in respect.

Nearby, the piled bodies formed a grim stack as high as firewood.

“Everyone, thank you for your hard work. Soldiers who helped clear the barrier will receive food and drink. You may sleep in late tomorrow morning. Leave the bodies as they are and prepare to withdraw.”

“Thank you so much!”

“Withdraw! Withdraw! That’s enough digging!”

“Soldiers, come this way for your meals! The meat and drink are hot and ready!”

“I was worried the smell of blood would spoil our appetite, but with some drink, it’s a different story! Thank you!”

As the soldiers lined up eagerly, Beric spotted the puppeteer among the corpses. He nudged the figure gently with his toe, and it slumped sideways, lifeless.

“Ian, this is the bastard. The pervert who played with dolls during the war. Look at this.”

“The clothing matches Toolun’s style. So this one isn’t Burgos but a reinforcer from Toolun.”

“There was a similar case in Bariel before—dried fairy corpses.”

Ian thought for a moment, then spoke.

“Captain Jarrett.”

“Yes, Minister.”

“When assessing Toolun’s forces, we must gather information on their puppeteers.”

“Yes, I will keep that in mind.”

Jarrett bowed sharply in response.

Though there was a clear rank difference between minister and captain, they belonged to different departments and had only exchanged basic courtesies until now.

But this salute carried something more—an unmistakable respect. The palace guards suddenly recalled that the events from earlier that day were no dream.

The mages felt the same.

“Oh, right. He’s the emperor from the future.”

“Still hard to get used to.”

“An emperor with that face… unfair.”

“Any special findings during the search?”

“No, Ian. The cliffs near the back gate are too treacherous to examine closely, but even so, there were no traces left by Barsabe.”

“Barsabe is definitely in pursuit, but since we can’t follow, our only choice is to rest body and mind to maintain peak strength. It’s unfortunate, but we lost many great palace guards in this battle. This directly affects His Majesty’s safety. Tonight, lay down your burdens and rest deeply.”

Ian nodded to Jarrett, signaling him to handle the cleanup, then called the mages together. They had been waiting, scampering over eagerly to surround him.

“What about the Burgos messenger?”

“We caught him without issue.”

“Well done. We’ll consult with the Agiar residents’ representative to draft new terms. A mage will serve as the messenger, so it’s best for quick-footed Tommy to go.”

“What kind of terms?”

“It will mainly state that Agiar has fallen, civilians have pledged safety and cooperation to Bariel, and have lowered their flags voluntarily. We hope southern cities will open their gates to avoid needless bloodshed.”

“The next city closest to Agiar can be reached in half a day. Should I bring some Dera weapons just in case?”

“Of course. Safety first.”

“Um, Ian!”

Suddenly, as Ian flipped through documents and walked, the mages spread their hands to block his path. Puzzled, he looked up, catching the flicker of torchlight in their eyes.

“Ian, you’re… the emperor, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Though from a distant future.”

“So, what happens now? Will you stay in the palace?”

They worried that now the palace had a rightful ruler, Ian’s mere bloodline might make him a threat.

Moreover, Ian had not only inherited the blood but ascended the throne. How the true emperor would react could change everything. The mages waited tensely for his answer.

“Well, if I’m not in the palace… what, should I go to your place? Enough nonsense—go rest.”

“Ah! Captain Akorella!”

“Ugh, the smell of alcohol. Were you drinking on the job? Beric’s face was red earlier too.”

“Today’s an exception, you clueless cuties. Now, anyone who doesn’t rest, I’ll personally invite to biological experiments.”

“Why does it always come to that? Anyway, Ian, we’re glad you’re okay. We want you to know we trust and follow you, no matter who you are. So—”

The mages gently but firmly grasped Ian’s hands. It was clear how much they had talked about him in his absence.

Ian smiled softly, looking down at their trembling hands.

“So, I’m counting on you all.”

“We’re with you!”

“But Ian, what about your injuries?”

“If you’re not here, the magic department falls apart. Just look at Captain Akorella—ah! Don’t do that!”

“Just me? Keep talking behind my back!”

“Sorry! Ah! My apologies!”

As the mages laughed and tangled together happily, Ian sensed eyes in the darkness—eyes filled with the weight of death and fear. The residents of Agiar.

Though the night was deep, they huddled by the roadside, simply enduring. Their homes were half-ruined or completely destroyed, with nowhere to return.

“Hale.”

“Yes, Ian.”

“Hurry and bring the Agiar residents’ representative. We must reach an agreement to resolve the city’s reconstruction. Also, tell them to provide warm food. How we treat them now will determine how much blood is spilled in the next battle.”

If Agiar fully cooperated, some cities could fall without violence, sparing many soldiers’ lives.

Hale nodded and went ahead, while Ian gazed up at the black night sky.

“No moon, no stars. Of all nights.”

For Barsabe, who was being pursued, this would be a difficult night.

Ian turned, silently praying for her safe return.

---

“Haah, haah.”

“Damn you, Rutherford.” Barsabe cursed under her breath, breathing heavily.

The barrier collapsed in the blink of an eye, triggered by the sudden explosion from the gypsy. Thick, poisonous smoke poured toward me like razor-sharp blades. If it weren’t for Bonita shielding me, I would have surely died…

“Captain Bonita… is she dead?”

She’d only left the order to chase after Rutherford before diving into the rubble alongside the black-armored soldiers. My body obeyed the command reflexively, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d abandoned my captain. Tears kept streaming down my face.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my left hand and looked down.

“This is bad.”

Far below, a steep cliff dropped sharply. I was clinging to a fist-sized rock protrusion, barely holding on. Chasing Rutherford meant facing off against several of his sword-wielding guards. Honestly, it was impossible to take them all on alone, so I was just quietly following from behind.

I’d tried hiding, but they must have sensed something, and now here I was.

“It’s too dark down there to judge the height, and there’s nothing to step on if I climb back up.”

It felt like I’d been hanging here for nearly an hour. I shifted my grip between my right and left hands, trying to conserve strength while thinking of a way out.

Then, faint voices reached my ears.

Human voices.

“Where is that coming from?”

From over there? If it’s someone nearby, it’s probably Rutherford or one of his close aides.

In the pitch-black darkness, I focused on the tips of my fingers and found a small ledge to grab onto. Carefully and quietly, minimizing any sound, I swung myself along the cliffside.

“…Any problems?”

“It’ll take a little more time… yes…”

I could hear them clearly now, voices growing sharper as I got closer. They were definitely stationed just above on the cliff. I held my breath, straining to listen.

“How long?”

“We used a lot of magic fighting Bariel’s mages earlier. It’ll take at least three days.”

“I thought you had something to restore your magic?”

“We used everything we had. The rest is inside the barrier. Please wait three days. We’ll open a portal and bring you to Luswena.”

That was Rutherford’s voice.

Judging by the conversation, the others were probably Luswena’s mages. Including the sword-wielders, maybe ten to twenty elite soldiers in total.

If I got caught, I’d be dead.

“We have to go to Toorun.”

A harsh voice cut in.

I frowned. A foreigner? The accent was rough, and the voice sounded strained.

“Since we lost Bagvan, there’s no reason for us to stay here. We’ll report to the king and discuss our next move.”

“The king? The one from Toorun?”

“Watch your words. He is our king.”

I rolled my eyes and listened carefully, determined not to miss a single word.

I held my breath and, for some reason, looked up toward the suddenly silent area above.

“…!”

Rutherford, his long hair flowing down, was peering down below. Thanks to the darkness, he hadn’t spotted me yet, but he sensed something was off.