Chapter 102: Clash of Iron Bones and Blazing Passion (Part One)
The rain has stopped.
This downpour, which had swept half of the Silgaria Republic since the end of March, had submerged farmland, destroyed houses, and left countless civilians in despair, finally paused on this night after more than four months.
At this moment, one would think it should be a time for national celebration in Silgaria, a time to worship divine grace, a moment where countless people weep with joy.
However, in the Castle of Silence, this night was sad and colorless.
This night, many severely injured women quietly passed away in stupor.
This night, the bishop and clerics held a brief funeral ceremony for Lady Oseli Tiya Alanster, after which the beautiful lady was buried in the Alanster Cemetery behind the castle, while the surviving women silently bid her farewell.
This night, I curled up on the balcony of the master bedroom on the fourth floor, leaning over the erratic girl in the room as I slowly drifted into sleep.
This night, many people, each with a swirl of emotions, fell asleep one by one in the darkness.
When dawn’s light arose from this beautiful land, the knights sharpened their swords and donned their shining golden armor, marching south from the Castle of Silence towards Alectine City, which lay several dozen kilometers away.
The women and remaining nun-knights stood atop the walls, gazing and waving goodbye. As for the fate of this castle, Angel had already written a letter to the Holy City, ordering them to send supplies led by a highly esteemed archbishop to temporarily take over the Castle of Silence on behalf of House Alanster, managing this territory and dealing with the aftermath of the disaster. The remaining members of the Alanster family, as well as their future offspring, would retain the rights to reside in, manage, and inherit the Castle of Silence.
This was the Pope’s decision.
………..
The rain had cleared.
The road ahead was no longer so difficult to tread.
Wrapped in a clean cloak, riding my massive horned horse with a black leather suitcase on my back, I trotted alongside Isaac at the front of the group, striding forward as over the next few days, we would cross two major mountains and traverse the Weiros River, leading the poised knights and clerics directly to the southern region of Lockere, to a town just a dozen kilometers from Alectine City, where our pace slowed as we began to regroup.
The formerly quaint town had long turned to ruins, crumbled brick walls, dilapidated slate roofs, and the occasional skeleton lurking alongside the overgrown paths. Beneath a slightly overcast sky, clusters of campfires burned amidst the debris, crackling away, mixing with the sounds of voices and animal calls, temporarily bringing life back to this place.
The knights were cooking porridge in iron pots or cleaned helmets over the campfires, munching on hard jerky, while lightly wounded knights exchanged curses about heretics near the fire. On the other side of the camp, the clerics of the Faith Organization were being a tad more civilized, sipping hot soup delicately from their bowls, scarcely uttering a word as they ate.
Before long, someone delivered freshly baked bread, still steaming hot. The knights would blow on it to cool it and tear off chunks to shove into their mouths. The knight who brought the bread simply joined them, scooping some porridge to drink before launching into conversation.
“…We just discovered a few rats nearby and chased them down to k*ll, d*mn it, those little buggers even dared to fight back… We left two alive, sent them to Lord Isaac, who knows what we can wring out of them…”
At the edge of the ruined town, several squads of knights were galloping on their mounts, having reached the area mentioned in the intelligence reports, but the battle situation remained unclear. The heretics could show up at any moment, and we’d already taken out two waves of scouts today; we couldn’t rule out the possibility of ambushes. The knights were patrolling much more cautiously now, nearly doubling the number of those sent out to scout.
Inside the tent, Angel, Isaac, and the young Bishop Victor were discussing plans and organizing matters, with the captains of knights coming in and out, taking on their respective tasks. Once all arrangements were nearly sorted, Angel furrowed his brow and asked, “Any news from the Third Knights Order? Can we get any leads on their whereabouts?”
The tall, thin knight captain shook his head slightly. “Not yet, I’ve sent knights to scout towards Alectine City, and if all goes well, we should have news by nightfall.”
“The two heretics we captured—didn’t manage to pry anything out of them?”
Isaac scratched his head and asked, and the knight captain replied, “Like always, couldn’t extract a word. They’re a group of deranged lunatics: captured, they just laugh and won’t spill a thing. One of them even managed to injure one of our knights in the chaos, so I had to take off their heads.”
I shifted on a rock in the corner of the tent, listening to their conversation while nibbling on a big chunk of bread, occasionally peeking through the tent flap to check the sky and the galloping knights outside, silently enduring inner turmoil, waiting for some reliable news to come in.
With each passing day, anxiety and suppression accompanied me. As I drew closer to Alectine City and the trail of the heretics, my emotions intensified: a craving to vent, to fight, to take down those wicked, cruel, crazy heretics. I longed for the jester to pay for his actions; such thoughts swirled in my mind, keeping me awake some nights.
When sleep eluded me, I searched for ways to practice Oblivion’s power.
I couldn’t use Infernal Fire, nor Dead Smoke. Oblivion, my most “special” ability, had the significant advantage of not relying on Dead Smoke, allowing me to cast illusions merely through my eyes. Even if I used it on someone, they would find it hard to perceive— even Angel would only be suspicious of my eyes turning red, chalking it up to the Infernal Fire within me, and warned me to keep it hidden from others.
Of course, I wouldn’t let anyone see.
Anyone who saw would surely fall into the illusions I conjured.
Throughout this journey, although Safiros closely followed me, I still found opportunities to slip away— when I fell asleep at night, or made excuses to grab a snack, or when nature called, I would shake off that nagging knight captain and head to a quiet, secluded spot to practice Oblivion.
I gradually figured out this ability.
Oblivion was incredibly complex and troublesome, yet exceptionally powerful. It had two forms of application. For convenience in understanding and memory, I named these two forms: Fixed Dreamscape and Dynamic Dreamscape.
Most of the time, the ability I manifested was the “Dynamic Dreamscape,” where, by making eye contact with a person or creature, I could use my imagination to show them what I wanted them to see. In such instances, both I and the person I was facing, or any other creature, would be frozen in time— like a soulless shell, with no conscious awareness, only perceiving the illusion.
At that moment, should anyone attack me, I wouldn’t even notice— likewise, if someone attacked the enemy trapped in the illusion, they too would remain unaware until perhaps they woke up— but I couldn’t verify this, so it was merely speculation.
In short, this dreamscape could trap both myself and my enemy in an illusion. I could make them unable to see me, or allow them to see other things, but everything would slip away from reality; no matter what happened in the dreamscape, in reality, from the moment we locked eyes, neither had moved, while time continued to pass. Everything that occurred in the dream was simply what I conjured on the spot.
At one point, I thought Oblivion only had this one form left for me—until I discovered its other application after using my endless “Shaping” power to create a creation from the Abyss.
The inspiration came from Irush.
I remembered the snake she conjured from the Abyss Mud, and I saw its eyes, trapped in the “space” created by the little girl while she was bored; that imagined house of Shanter Castle.
“Oblivion” could also be manifested through the eyes of Abyssal Creations. I have verified this.
At the same time, in continuous practice, I uncovered the “Fixed Dreamscape.”
That is: I could use my imagination to create a dream, space, fantasy in advance, even spend a great deal of time constructing a small world and then store it within the consciousness of the Abyssal Creations… they probably had no brains, but simple awareness. This awareness is what I endowed them with, and I can store the dream I created in advance within their consciousness.
As long as I make eye contact with them, I can activate Oblivion.
The “Dynamic Dreamscape” works well for one-on-one situations… though its effectiveness might be somewhat limited; I might not deal significant damage to an enemy through a dream unless I had allies to help.
On the other hand, “Fixed Dreamscape” has an incredibly flexible application scenario. In this case, the illusion the enemy falls into is cast through the eyes of the Abyssal Creations and not mine, so in this case, I wouldn’t be within the dreamscape, and my body could move freely.
That’s a terrifying ace up my sleeve.
However, the condition to use it is that I must create at least one “Abyssal Creation”—understanding this, I felt a bit disheartened. Because that meant I would still expose my Abyssal power, thus I couldn’t use it out in the open where everyone could see, at least not this time.
No matter…
Even if it’s just the Frost Order, with my current affinity, I can handle the level-three heretics… that’ll be enough.
I bit into my bread, fully confident.
Inside the tent, the firelight flickered, and Isaac was saying something to Angel that I didn’t pay attention to; the bald giant soon went out, and several knight captains came in, including Safiros, who was reporting the surrounding situation to the Pope— they hadn’t found any trace of enemies.
Just then, a hoarse cry echoed from the sky.
“Caw—”
It was the sound of a raven…
Wait a minute, that sounds familiar?
“Goat cheese!”
I sprang to my feet, shouting, startling the Pope and the knights, who all turned to look at me. Ignoring them, I finished off the last bits of bread in a few bites, burst through the tent flap, and ran outside.
“Goat cheese—”
I cupped my hands around my mouth, shouting towards the sky.
The gray clouds floated overhead, and the black raven spread its wings as it soared over countless ruins, flying directly toward me from the distance.
It really was goat cheese!
Which means Beiyard has news…
Is he in Alectine City?
