Chapter 579

“By the way, what kind of country is Toorun exactly?”

As they gathered in a circle, tearing into their meat, one of the mages suddenly asked. Everyone else just blinked with mouths full, unable to offer a clear answer.

After a brief silence, Akorella spoke up first.

“Toorun? It’s a place rich in Maknotipia and Kellen deposits. Strangely enough, those two are hard to find anywhere outside Toorun. Luckily, the reserves are abundant—otherwise, they’d be classified as rare gems. Though, personally, I’m not a fan of either. Maknotipia lacks cohesion, in my opinion—”

“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about it, but I don’t really know much. Honestly, until recently, I didn’t even know where it was. Do they have mages there?”

“Hey, you just cut me off.”

“No, I was cutting meat.”

“Mages? Probably. Magic users don’t just come from one region.”

“Still, since it’s close to the northern territories, the influence of shamans must be strong. If you ask around Astana, you might get more details.”

“They say even Astana doesn’t know much. Seems like their exchanges with Toorun haven’t been very active. Plus, that place is basically a house of mourning right now, so no one’s really talking.”

“Right. That mysterious long-range attack caused a lot of damage, didn’t it? Could it be connected to the puppet master Beric caught?”

“No idea. The dead don’t speak.”

“I’ve actually been there once.”

At that, everyone’s eyes widened. Toorun was a region with almost no contact with Bariel, after all. It was a distant land, and their religious beliefs were quite different.

Nowadays, a new underground deity worship had swept through the country, but for Barielans, whether it was the underground god or the old gods, it was all unfamiliar.

“When? How?”

“Yeah, it’s surprising. Even during His Majesty the Emperor’s coronation, not a single envoy came from Toorun. How did you manage to go there?”

“A long time ago. When I was very young, I went with my father. Though we only stayed for a month or two.”

“Oh, right. You said your father was a traveling merchant?”

“Not exactly a merchant. He did odd jobs under one.”

“Anyway, what was it like? I heard people there climb onto roofs and pray while lying down. Is that true?”

The mages pushed their meat aside, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

The suddenly spotlighted mage looked a bit embarrassed but soon began recalling childhood memories.

“When it’s time, a bell rings somewhere. Then everyone stops what they’re doing and prays to the sky. Even if they’re on the roof, they have to do it. Maybe that’s where the story about praying on roofs came from.”

“Hmm. Could be.”

“And from what I remember, the atmosphere was very open. How to put it… strict rules but with freedom? Or maybe order within chaos? There were a lot of people too. I rode a donkey, and my shoulder kept bumping into the person next to me so much I wondered if I was even walking.”

“The land there is pretty big, right? I think it’s two or three times the size of Bariel.”

“Yes, that sounds about right. Most of it was farmland. The climate was a bit dry, so agricultural efficiency wasn’t great.”

“Yeah, the country tends to be a bit closed off. Since they can mostly sustain themselves, they don’t feel the need to interact much with outsiders.”

“That, and maybe they feared religious change? Toorun is kind of an outlier in Gaia.”

“Could be. They have a king too, right?”

“Oh, yes. They do, but…”

“But what?”

The mage shrugged with a smile, as if unsure.

“I heard this when I was very young, so I’m not sure if it’s accurate.”

“Well, a king is a king, or not.”

“They say the king is ‘elected.’”

“Huh?”

What kind of nonsense is that? Not hereditary, but elected? Does that even make sense? There aren’t rebellions every generation.

“How do they elect a king?”

“They believe a god hides among the royal family. There are several criteria to find that person, and the child who meets them becomes king. Whether it’s symbolic or real, I don’t know. It was a long time ago.”

“How old are you again?”

“Thirty-five. Captain Akorella.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

Akorella scratched the tip of her nose awkwardly, and everyone cleared their throats uncomfortably. Why is it that the younger the mage, the higher the position? Well, Ian’s the youngest and a minister, so that says it all.

“Anyway, it’s a fascinating country.”

“Yes, worth visiting at least once. The whole land is a yellowish-brown, but the unique red and yellow hues stand out. It’s completely different from Hawan. If Hawan’s colors are a strong red on white, Toorun is like a campfire built on earth tones.”

“Hmm. We’re actually heading there soon, right? After we push through southern Burgos and clean up, we’ll move straight to Toorun.”

“What?!”

Why tell us now? The surprised mages froze, but Akorella just bit into her food and laughed.

“Why so shocked? You knew we were going to Toorun. It’s been discussed since the deployment ceremony.”

“No, that was just discussion! This means it’s confirmed!”

“Yeah, I just heard it too. Chill.”

“…Then I’ll have to send a dispatch to the palace’s magic department. Request some materials on Toorun. And send regards to Romandro.”

“Oh, that’s already done.”

Akorella waved her hand dismissively and tugged at her subordinates’ collars, signaling them to stop fussing and just eat.

“Really? Then, what about Ian’s story…?”

“Yeah.”

“All of it?”

“Yeah. All of it. Romandro should know too.”

“…He’ll be surprised, won’t he?”

“Surprised is the least of it.”

Akorella let out a bitter groan as she downed a glass of wine. No life is without hardship, but Ian’s story, as she’d heard it from the inside, was utterly tragic—as if some god had painstakingly orchestrated his ruin.

At that moment, Hale passed by.

“Hey, Captain Hale. Where are you off to without eating?”

“Just going out for a quick scout with the palace guard.”

Hale nodded toward the tent of the palace guards. Since the magic swordsmen can’t fly, it seemed they’d asked Hale and his men for help.

People like them never seem to know how to rest, Akorella thought, pursing her lips.

“What about Ian? Haven’t seen him since earlier.”

“He’s negotiating with the Agiar residents’ representatives. Progress is slow, so it seems there are some issues.”

“Hm? Why? Agiar’s already done, isn’t it?”

“Before Agiar, they’re Burgos people.”

Among the civilians, opinions were sharply divided: some would rather become prisoners of war than cooperate with Bariel, while others wanted to survive and open a new era.

Ian was quietly watching their tense standoff. Whatever happened, things would proceed as Bariel wished, but to eliminate opposing views, he judged it better to let them clash fiercely and burn out rather than suppress them outright. They had a long night ahead.

“Keep eating and resting. Nakina and I will be back soon.”

“Got it. Don’t come back late or there won’t be anything left.”

“Eat up.”

Hale said this as he headed toward the palace guard’s tent.

Unlike the outside, drunk on victory, the tent’s atmosphere was heavy. The cost of their triumph was high.

The wounded soldiers bandaging their injuries stood as Hale entered.

“You’re here.”

“Yes, I was asked to assist.”

“Captain Jerat.”

Jerat was already dressed in full armor. His wounds from the northern front had kept him behind the lines, but that couldn’t continue. With Bonita dead, Jerat had to fulfill his duties as captain.

“I want to search the cliffside again. It’s too narrow for dragons to enter, so I hope the mages can assist with flight. I’ve informed Minister Ian.”

“Yes, we understand your concerns, Captain. But tonight’s darkness is too thick; we won’t go far.”

“Thank you, Beric.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Beric roughly tore off his bandages and put on his jacket. Despite the deep wounds, he was more mobile than the others. He tied his hair back and studied the map.

“We just follow the places we scouted earlier, right?”

“Beric, you sober?”

“Is wine even alcohol? It’s a drink. You all rest easy. The perfectly fine Beric is going out.”

“Yes, senior. Good luck.”

“Captain Jerat, be careful.”

They exchanged brief gestures and, with Hale and Nakina’s help, took off into the night.

Whoosh—

In the deep night sky, the wind howled. Though they rose high, all that could be seen was the glow of Agiar below. Beyond that, only darkness stretched out.

Jaret strained every nerve, hoping to sense any trace of Barsabe’s presence, while Berrick yawned widely and sniffed the air.

Whoosh!

“We’ll descend down the cliff.”

As they reached the edge of the sheer drop beyond the barrier, Hale signaled and lowered their altitude. The four of them slipped between the rocks, relying on the faint glow of magic.

There was no sign of anyone nearby. Not yet.

---

Barsabe realized what it meant for blood to run cold.

Rutherford’s eyes, staring down below, gleamed with a chilling sharpness—as if he were a messenger from the underworld. And his long hair? She held her breath, doing her best to stay utterly silent.

“Rutherford, what’s wrong?”

“Bring me a torch.”

This wasn’t mere suspicion. He had definitely sensed something. Barsabe bit her lower lip hard, afraid her pounding heart might betray her.

“There could be pursuers nearby. Lighting a fire now is too dangerous, Rutherford.”

“Then you. Go down there.”

“Excuse me?”

“There’s something below. Like you said, it might be a pursuer. Go check if there are any blind ears listening.”

Silence fell again after Rutherford’s words.

Barsabe felt utterly cornered. None of the others seemed to notice anything, so why was Rutherford acting like this?

At least no one else was eager to volunteer. The Luswena mages were reinforcements supporting Rutherford, not his servants, and the magic swordsmen couldn’t fly, making the descent down the dark cliff treacherous.

“Then I’ll go take a look.”

That’s when the grating voice cut in.

“With just some boards and dolls, we can find out if anyone else is here besides us. We could pierce their hearts in one strike—no problem.”

“When exactly?”

Rutherford clicked his tongue. The doll masters of Toalun were incredibly skilled, but their preparations were extensive: they needed the exact location of the target and the right doll for the spell.

The more advanced the doll master, the more effort they put into crafting materials to ensure the spell would take hold. Even the talented Vagban reportedly took months to create the Agiar barrier.

“Light the torch.”

Faced with the repeated order, the subordinates reluctantly set the torch ablaze and peered over the cliff’s edge. The darkness gradually thinned, and their vision brightened.

Watching the approaching light, Barsabe muttered under her breath.

Damn it. Persistent bastard.

But there was no choice. With no way back, they had to push forward.

The moment the light illuminated her, Barsabe swiftly grabbed the magic swordsman’s arm and yanked him down the cliff.

“Ahhh!”

He screamed as he vanished into the darkness below.

Using his momentum, Barsabe leapt upward. At the same time, she clenched her empty molars and unleashed her magic, charging toward Rutherford.

Swish!

Stepping out, she saw six magic swordsmen and five mages. Beyond them, a dozen or so doll masters and regular soldiers had gathered.

Barsabe crouched low and glanced back. Nothing but empty wasteland.

In other words…

We’re screwed.

And just like that, it was over.