181. At the Boundary of Infiltration and Breakthrough (1)
*
Fernandez lowered his head, peering through the branches at the northern army’s camp below.
The northerners weren’t accustomed to organized legion formations. Historically, their battles were fought in clan-based village units or alliances of several clans. A “camp” simply meant a gathering place for warriors of the same clan.
Expecting no conflicts when gathering highly exclusive and combative warriors from different regions into one space was laughable. Yet, forming combat units solely with warriors from the same clan also posed problems.
They tended to prioritize the words of clan elders over their leaders. Thus, while rivalries between camps were possible, internal strife within a camp should have been nearly impossible.
However, Fernandez narrowed his eyes, observing the men confronting each other in the camp. This wasn’t just a petty neighborly dispute—it was a tense standoff.
*
“That can’t be allowed!”
*
“‘That can’t be allowed.'”
The leading man shouted with veins bulging in his neck, and Fernandez’s lips formed the same words. In winter, he could see the man’s mouth movements, the intensity of his breath from his nose and mouth, his gestures, and even the movement of his Adam’s apple.
Diemonica’s instantaneous cognitive abilities and vision transcend human limits. Diemonica is a functional culmination, a blade forged by the Divine Warrior, designed solely for combat—combat against beings far superior to humans.
The pinnacle of human potential and power, a symbol of human-shaped force. Enduring Diemonica’s blessing process and filling one’s spirit with the Divine Warrior’s divinity meant just that.
And with Fernandez’s thoughts layered on top, it became possible to decipher human speech with the precision of a hawk’s eye. From a distance where facial features were barely visible, he performed an astonishingly precise lip-reading.
Quickly, his gaze shifted to the old man standing beside him. The large, burly old man with a thick white beard was shouting back at the middle-aged man who had yelled at him.
“‘Then what do you suggest?'”
*
“Then what do you suggest! Should we all die together, is that what you’re saying?”
“Damn it, you fool. With our own hands? That can’t be allowed!”
“If not? Erik will slaughter us without batting an eye! You idiot. Children, children can be replaced, can’t they?”
“Shut your mouth!”
The man roared, grabbing the old man by the collar and lifting him. The old man gasped, choking. The warriors behind the old man immediately drew their weapons, and the warriors behind the man did the same.
In an atmosphere where blades could clash at any moment, the man gnashed his teeth and growled.
“The reason I, we, surrendered to those Kazalid bastards was for one thing. Did we surrender because we were afraid of dying in battle? No! We surrendered just to save our own flesh and blood in this chaos!”
“Not everyone, not everyone was meant to die. Ugh. You, you think I came here willingly to hear such nonsense?”
The man spat and released the old man’s collar. As the old man coughed and hunched over, the man pulled out an axe. The old man looked up at him with tear-filled eyes.
“If you can’t hold back now… if you act recklessly now, our entire clan will perish. Barem. Get a grip, you fool… You, you are the man who must become the next Yarl.”
“What use is becoming a Yarl over the corpses of our children? Have you no shame? All of you! You fools! Are you men who just return after being ordered to kill your own children?”
“Right there!!”
The old man shouted with bloodshot eyes.
“Right there! The clans that resisted that bastard… were made examples of. Their heads were cut off. How many… how many do you think died? Huh? Half! Half of the elders of the clans that surrendered to him died right there!”
“We should have died together! Instead of swearing to kill our own children and returning! We should have died before spilling filth on our ancestors’ faces!”
“Do you think I wanted this either!”
The old man straightened his back. Despite his apparent age, his towering frame hinted at the formidable warrior he once was. He pulled out a one-handed axe from his waist and shouted.
“I would rather have died in battle! At least it would have been honorable! Instead of struggling to survive at this old age, I could have died gloriously! But, but you fool. You thick-headed brat…”
The old man lowered his axe and whispered sadly.
“Erik… after killing the elders of the resisting clans, he said, ‘If the upper stream is dirty, the lower stream will be dirty too.’ What do you think that means…? It was a declaration to annihilate the entire clans that included those elders.”
“I’d rather die. Die fighting! Kazalid may be a powerful clan. They even command demons! But half? Do you think they can still be strong after turning half the clans against them?”
The man had a point. No matter how powerful Kazalid was, Hazart Kazal’s legion was less than half the size of Erik’s.
The remaining forces were only the nearby minor tribes that had willingly surrendered to Hazart Kazal at the start of the war. Though the war hadn’t lasted long, the legions were scattered like wildfire, making coordination between them weak. If civil wars broke out everywhere, there would be no way to maintain the long frontlines.
They had to seize that opportunity. Rumor had it that resistance forces were gathering recently. It might be better to join them. First, evacuate the women and children…
[Do you know why I like mortals?]
All the warriors in the camp froze, shuddering. The old man, the middle-aged man, and the other men surrounding them all stiffened.
Slowly, they raised their gazes to the camp’s boundary, the roughly built wooden fence…
He looked. Despite the bright daylight, a strange darkness had settled over the area.
It wasn’t the kind of darkness that comes from shadows gathering. The sunlight dimmed, and the air shimmered like oil floating on polluted water, scattering in shades of purple, yellow, and blue. The men shuddered as their senses distorted, as if surrounded by fog.
Amidst it all, a pale man, corpse-like, sat atop a wooden fence, looking down at them.
[Because you have hope. Do you know how sweet that is? It’s like the snacks you eat. You know, the dried grains and fruits. The way they crumble sweetly in your mouth feels so good. Hope is like that.]
The pale man giggled. His lips stretched to his ears, revealing razor-sharp teeth that glinted. His breath scattered colors into the air.
“De…mon…”
[Some call me that. Baldur said to kill them all in such cases… but that’s no fun. So don’t worry, mortals. I’ll just watch.]
The demon pointed with his chin at the trembling old man, pale with fear.
[You saw me, old man?]
“Th-that’s him. Barem, that’s him. He and his kind slaughtered all the resisting elders and warriors.”
The old man swallowed and trembled. The demon chuckled as he watched.
[Don’t worry. Go on, keep doing what you were doing. Have hope! Isn’t that what you mortals do best? I’d love to see you tear each other apart. Does that give you a little hope?]
The demon looked down at the warriors, who swallowed hard as they stared at him with blazing eyes.
[I’ll spare the last one.]
*
-What a bold one.
Faijashi laughed, “Keuk.” Fernandez watched them expressionlessly. The warriors stood still, unable to move, staring at the demon.
-We’ll just watch the show and eat rice cakes. If those bastards are busy with each other, breaking through won’t be a problem.
This area was one of the key points along Erik’s long frontline. Its perfect vantage point for surveillance, combined with the clear atmosphere, made Fernandez decide to observe until nightfall.
But the unexpected infighting made this the perfect moment to cross. His presence could shake the entire grand strategy, so he had been living in the trees for days. Now, this was a golden opportunity.
‘Just a moment.’
-Tsk.
Faijashi clicked his tongue, sensing Fernandez’s hesitation. Fernandez’s left arm twitched, gripping and releasing the hilt of his greatsword repeatedly.
Anyway, his head was too hot. Faijashi muttered in dissatisfaction.
-There’s civil war among them, do you know what that means? This situation isn’t just limited to here. The world has always been hell. Fernandez, it’s just another tragedy written on top of hell.
‘It was a promise I never intended to keep. There’s no need to keep it, and the one I swore to doesn’t even exist anymore.’
Suddenly, Fernandez brought up something else. Faijashi narrowed his eyes and looked down at him. Fernandez stared fixedly at the warriors and the demon as he spoke.
‘That day, in Altberth. In the underground, when I was appointed by King Dain. Remember?’
-…Yeah.
‘You wouldn’t know, but I saw King Dain’s memories. Through death, I shared his memories and madness, inheriting his spirit. Thanks to that, King Dain regained his senses and collapsed… but my body still carries the memories of that time.’
*
Even if I can’t bear all the sorrows of the world, I won’t let anyone sit alone in despair.
*
The promise he made while closing the eyes of the fallen giant came to mind. Despite the deaths of countless brothers and people at the giant’s hands, he pitied the giant’s life before feeling anger.
A life wandering alone, swallowing only the scorn and hatred of others. The young knight at the time silently vowed to take on that burden.
-Ha, I knew it would come to this. That’s why I opposed it back then. I warned that your existence would blur after another’s spirit mixed with yours. You’ve changed, Fernandez. Not in a good way, but in a corrupted way.
‘Is that bad? Or does it mean the time when we were “us” was so good?’
-At least we could be “us.” I could be “me.”
‘Everyone changes.’
-Self-destruction and self-repair don’t affect the essence of the spirit. In your case, there was external contamination. You’re contaminated, Fernandez.
‘External? I know a condition where interacting with others changes one’s nature, and it’s called “autism”…’
-…Ha.
As Faijashi fell silent, Fernandez gripped the hilt of his greatsword and slowly drew it.
-Maybe so. But your actions? Others call it hypocrisy. Even if our hands claim goodness, dipping them in clean water now won’t make our past, our purpose, or our actions noble. For us, purpose is more important than reason, and goodwill is one of the most worthless reasons.
Fernandez prepared to leap down.
‘In any case, hypocrisy is always better than outright evil. And as for purpose… it’s not to ease guilt. Faijashi. For my son, for that young soul…’
His grand strategy was a covert ambush. Disrupting the rear. Buying time for Hazart Palan. But buying time was meaningless now.
If a widespread civil war broke out among the enemy, the situation was already counting down to an all-out war. No matter how unprepared Hazart Palan was, with Freya present, attacking the enemy’s weakest point would be easy for Kirhas.
Fernandez looked at Abel, who was anxiously watching him. Abel, having read his lips, was barely holding back from rushing out.
Fernandez quietly spoke to her.
“Will you come with me?”
“Gladly.”
Abel smiled brightly.
-For my son. Yes. For that poor soul… Even if it means burning the world to build it anew.
‘No, even if it’s just hypocritical goodness. Even if it’s just disgusting self-consolation and deceit. To lay the foundation for that child to live a happier life. Only for that.’
Fernandez spun his sword, gripped it, and leaped down from the tree. Abel followed, kicking off the tree. They began running toward the camp almost simultaneously.
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