Chapter 782
Meanwhile, at that very moment—north of Hawan’s capital.
The area held by the revolutionary forces was utterly devastated; no shade remained anywhere. The wounded were carried on stretchers to the corners, while the dead lay sprawled for days on end, as if the ground itself had become their graves.
Caetano, the leader of the revolutionaries, drew his sword and surveyed the camp alongside his men, never letting his guard down, wary of an enemy ambush at any moment. His grip was so tight that the blood on his hands had dried and hardened into a crust.
“What’s the damage?”
“This time, it’s pretty severe. Unfortunately, the recent continuous rain made it impossible to use the matchlock guns.”
“Damn those puppet soldiers! They’re taking advantage of the rain to attack. Anyone among the wounded who can still wield a sword—put them in the combat squads.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any word from Bariel yet?”
“None.”
“Tch!” Caetano clicked his tongue sharply and roughly ran his hand through his hair. Honestly, it was a miracle they had held out against the puppet army this long. Without their matchlock guns, they would have been defeated and beheaded long ago.
But now, they were nearing their limit. After all, public support depends on the people. Too many had died in the ongoing battles, and doubts about the rebellion itself were beginning to spread.
“If only Bariel would recognize us, we could rally even the local forces and strengthen our cause.”
“They will accept us. There’s nothing for them to lose. Keep a close watch for any sign from the Eastern mages. If we can capture them, persuading Bariel will be much easier.”
“Yes, understood.”
Caetano had no intention of winning through outside forces. Their history was theirs to write by their own will. It would be tough, but he would not bend his resolve.
Just as he turned to leave, a woman hurried through the wounded caught his eye.
“Who’s that?”
Amid the countless fallen, the cries, the desperate pleas for help, the agonized screams to hold on, and the pitiful begging for death—she stood out. Her face was hidden beneath a robe and veil, yet she moved with determined purpose despite the cumbersome attire.
“That’s the daughter of a merchant from Luswena. A fallen noble family, apparently. She’s learned some foreign languages, so we brought her into the camp. We have no one who can distinguish the medicines.”
Most of the supplies they used were abandoned by foreign trading companies fleeing the city. The medicines were labeled in foreign tongues, so they needed someone knowledgeable to read and apply them.
“Not one of the puppet’s spies, I hope.”
“No, sir. She handed over her family’s brooch, which she always carried, saying she didn’t need it anymore.”
The puppet army wouldn’t hand over jewels valuable enough to fund their enemies. Of course, it could be a trap, but Caetano had been watching her for a long time. Aside from hiding her face, she showed no suspicious behavior—only repeatedly helping the wounded and assisting with camp operations.
Caetano nodded and passed by her without much thought.
Swish.
Underneath her veil, the woman’s sharp gaze followed him intently. She imprinted every detail into her mind—the people around him, his gait, his routines, what he observed and spoke of.
Once Caetano disappeared from sight, she refocused on a severely wounded man nearby, one on the brink of death. His head was turned halfway, as if searching for traces of Caetano with his eyes. Even in his final moments, he seemed to long for the captain’s last words of comfort.
“You seem very busy. He left quickly.”
“Ugh… ahh…”
The wounded man muttered through bloodied, iron-like rasping sounds.
“No word yet, huh?”
“Word?”
“The path to our victory… from them.”
The woman silently caught the blood spilling from his mouth with her hand. She couldn’t tell him not to speak—every piece of information here was her lifeline.
Instead, she gently patted his back. Tears welled in his eyes as he thanked her. His fading gaze held a lifetime of memories.
“Thank you, unknown one… for making my last moments like this…”
His breath hitched and faltered. The end had truly come. The woman steadied the cloth covering her face with one hand and bowed her head. Then, very softly, she whispered:
“Thank you for your efforts. Rest in peace. My name is Melania.”
“Me-la… ah…”
Thud. His breath ceased.
Melania slowly rose and scanned the area. With more dead than living, there was no need to tend to the body. She cautiously moved toward the direction Caetano had disappeared.
Are they waiting for contact from the Eastern mages?
If so, that was a relief. Her assumption that the rebels were connected to the Eastern mages through the matchlock guns was correct, and the timing was right. From Burgos, through Bariel, all the way to Hawan—how much she had worried that the opportunity might slip away.
We wait.
Even if she tried to move covertly, this was a chaotic battlefield. Footsteps couldn’t be hidden on the ash-covered ruins, and voices couldn’t be muffled where walls had crumbled. But if she kept watching, surely there would be a chance to meet the Eastern mages.
Melania looked up at a bird flying in the distance.
Clack-clack!
A messenger pigeon with something tied to its leg. One of Caetano’s men reached out and caught it, then hurried off to the captain.
Leaning against a mountain of corpses, Melania let out a small sigh. Her body was weary, but her mind sharpened. When she met the Eastern mages, she would—no, she must—
Lead them to Bariel. Personally.
The East was an unknown land. Establishing diplomatic ties could bring unimaginable benefits—not just for Bariel, but for Melania herself. A chance to reclaim her lost wealth and honor, or perhaps something even greater.
Watching the shimmering heat waves rising from the bodies, she clenched her teeth. Having come this far, she would never return empty-handed.
A few days later, Caetano and his men moved cautiously toward the outskirts of the capital.
Since they were leaving their stronghold, every step was careful. Under the cover of darkness, dozens of soldiers formed a silent line.
Swish.
Corpses lay like stones in the background, death hanging heavy over the path. They silently pushed through the rubble until they reached a certain point, where they discreetly scanned their surroundings.
“This should be the place, Captain Caetano.”
“Yes, I see the flag.”
The fluttering banner atop the highest point was the early sign of those they were to meet.
Caetano gripped his sword tightly, his face tense, waiting for their arrival. The moon, hidden behind clouds, peeked out and bathed the area in pale light.
“What time is it?”
“Two a.m. Still some time left.”
They didn’t know when the enemy might strike again. Tense, they crouched low, then suddenly noticed a long shadow stretching behind them.
“Behind us!”
At the shout, Caetano spun around swiftly. Where moments ago there had been no one, now two figures stood watching them.
The rustle of Eastern robes, glossy black hair. One was clearly a woman, but the other’s gender was hard to discern.
An intriguing appearance, Caetano thought, steadying his breath before bowing politely.
“Welcome, Eastern mages.”
The woman’s flowing sleeves swayed as she slowly descended. Her movement was like walking on water—steady, with an almost surreal sense of distance.
“Indeed, welcome, Westerners.”
Her features were noble, like the golden ornaments in her hair. Her eyes were a deep violet, and strange symbols were etched on her cheeks.
“I am Caetano.”
“I am Ginrō. Did you bring what we asked for?”
“Here it is.”
Caetano nodded to his men, who produced small pouches. Without hesitation, Ginrō opened them to reveal amber-colored gems of various sizes.
“Idgal, was it?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Eunrang lifted it up and held it to the moonlight, murmuring in wonder. She stared at it for a long while, then her lips curved into a broad smile. Turning around, she beckoned her companion over in a hurry.
“Amazing. Just as Shatima said. Hohun! Look at this. It really does have the property to erase magic.”
At the woman’s call, the one named Hohun approached. Up close, it was clear this wasn’t a woman but a man. His jet-black hair contrasted sharply with his eyes, which were a pale, almost white-blue.
“I see,” he said.
“Right? But there aren’t many of them, are there?”
Eunrang counted them with her eyes, then slowly looked over at Caetano, as if puzzled by the whole situation.
Though their eyes only met briefly, Caetano felt a chill run down his spine. It wasn’t just the unfamiliar appearance—it was the strange, almost mystical aura radiating from the man’s entire being.
“Apologies. It’s difficult to secure Idgal during the civil war,” Caetano said.
“It’s far too few. Shatima promised three crates of Idgal. Even if she’s dead, we can’t just end the deal like this.”
No one knew exactly how Shatima had struck a deal with the Eastern mages. She was already dead. Even Erika, who had closely assisted her, had gone missing somewhere in Luswena.
Whether they would continue their alliance or become enemies now rested in the hands of Caetano, the current leader of the revolutionary army.
“I’m sorry to say this, but you won’t be able to get any more Idgal from Hawan. So, I have a proposal for you.”
“A proposal? How laughable. What more could we possibly want from you here?”
“Nothing that will cost you. Please, put aside your anger.”
Caetano clearly saw Eunrang’s fangs glinting sharply as she growled. Were all these Eastern mages like this?
“Idgal is being produced in the Bariel Empire. Specifically, the Minister of Magic there is said to have the ability to create it.”
“A mage producing magic stones?”
“Yes, that’s the rumor. It’s considered a fact.”
The Eastern mages frowned. Was it common in the West for mages to create magic stones? That seemed unlikely—especially stones that counteract magic power. There was no precedent for that in the East.
“Are you sure they’re mages? Not monsters?”
“Oh, definitely not monsters.”
Caetano denied it firmly. The Minister of Magic of the Empire being a monster? Impossible.
But the Eastern mages looked unconvinced. Understandably so—monsters disguised as humans and disrupting order were far too common in their world.
“So, what then?”
“If you go to the Bariel Imperial Palace, you can get as much Idgal as you want. I’ve already sent word ahead. If you two agree, I’d like to escort you there.”
“Escort? Look at you lot first.”
Eunrang snorted, clearly annoyed. But Caetano pressed on confidently.
“The Emperor of Bariel will officially invite us. You can trust me. Gaia and the East are unknown worlds to each other. If you come with us, you will surely get what you want.”
“What we want? And what exactly is that?”
“I heard from Prime Minister Shatima. You’re searching for Eastern relics.”
“Ah.”
Just as Eunrang nodded in reluctant agreement, Hohun sensed something and turned around.
In the distance, a figure struggled forward, robes billowing in the wind—clearly a woman.
“…”
Hohun neither stopped her nor alerted anyone. The desperation etched on her face was so vivid, even in the darkness, it was impossible to ignore.