Chapter 200

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Chapter 200: The Final Heartbeat

Several ‍‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‍kilometers from the palisade, on one side of the plain.

NovelFire reader preview #4115f6ba2fc2 (issued 2026-07-20).

Calix sheathed his sword and surveyed his surroundings. The forward operating base facing the Storm Forest came into view. Shields and armor had been discarded here and there, and broken spears lay half-buried in the dirt, left where they'd fallen.

The ground no longer trembled. All that remained where the shaking had passed was a pit of corpses. Had aid not been extended in time, the garrison would long since have been swept away by the enemy's forces.

"More stretchers over here!"

"Only carry the ones still breathing!"

Because Ella's Divinity could not encompass every soul, the survivors had no choice but to make do with bandages and wooden boards. The healers could no longer tell whether what stained their hands was the blood of soldiers or their own sweat.

Calix passed silently among them.

Distinguishing the living from the dead was not the healers' burden. These were soldiers long accustomed to the stench of blood. Rather than ask for names, they gathered up the boots and gear beside the fallen.

"No telling when they'll hit us again."

"Shut your mouth. See to the living first."

Even small exchanges were cut short. Grief was a luxury.

Calix raised his head, and the outline of the forward base came into view. The carcasses of monsters hung from the stakes driven into the ground. Behind them, makeshift tents erected in desperate haste—like rags pressed quickly over a gaping wound.

Gaps kept opening in the defensive line.

Master Belmar held the central axis together, but the enemy's assault was brutally relentless. Under attacks that came without regard for front or rear, sealing one breach only caused another to tear open.

Calix turned his gaze past the palisade, toward the Storm Forest.

Blackened, twisted trees coiled around each other as though strangling one another's necks. From within the forest, monstrous cries erupted without pause. They were rough, dry—and seemingly growing closer.

Above all else, the supply wagons could no longer reach the front lines. Food stores had run dry, and the edges of weapons had gone dull.

"Guess I'll have to write up another Mountain Rabbit promissory note?"

Even Volga's offhand quip drew no laughter. The Mountain Rabbits' arrival had saved those who'd seemed on the verge of collapse, yet hope did nothing but drift overhead, out of reach.

‘This is not victory.’

Calix swept his gaze across the scene, his brow furrowing.

He had cut down monsters, plugged gaps, and endured another day. But what poured out of the forest did not cease. What had been repelled today was nothing more than the shadow of what would surge forth tomorrow.

‘In the end, I've only bought time.’

Unless the source itself was severed, this plain would be soaked in blood and rot without end. Like the Elvra Holy Empire in the north—the moment might come when an entire city was swallowed whole.

He opened his palm and looked at it.

Perhaps because he had cut down so many enemies so overwhelmingly, there was no bloodstain on it. The remnant of his energy hummed faintly within his Core. It felt as though he could reach his destination with just a little more effort. Yet he knew what awaited at the end of that path.

More corpses. Deeper pits. Makeshift tents without owners.

Calix clenched his fist tight.

In the end, he had to tear apart the darkness itself. That source—whose very name he loathed to speak.

‘De Generitum.’

In that moment, the energy saturating the air surged powerfully. From deep within the forest, from the direction of the front lines, a familiar presence was drawing closer.

Master Belmar.

* * *

A flash of pure white light rose from the direction of the forest, then vanished. Immediately after, the oppressive pulse of energy that had weighed down the air visibly subsided. Someone who had been fighting deep in the Storm Forest was gradually making their way back toward the base.

Shortly after, a man soaked in dirt and blood emerged, leading his knights behind him.

His head and shoulders were drenched in gore, yet his stride held no trace of faltering. The sword in his hand had not yet returned to its scabbard. He sheathed it only after stepping inside the palisade.

Master Belmar.

The soldiers lifted their heads as one. Some were still on their knees catching their breath; others tightened their grip on the spears in their hands. To them, he was an irreplaceable pillar—the very reason they had found cause to hold on until the end.

"……He's returned."

The low murmur spread quickly into sighs of relief. 2 of the continent's rare Masters now stood within this small forward base.

But Belmar paid no attention to those gazes. He scanned the unfamiliar visitors, and only when his eyes met Calix's did he react.

"Calix."

"Master Belmar, it's been a while. I'd heard the enemy's assault was severe."

"……It was severe."

Belmar let the end of his words trail off just after offering the brief greeting. Everything was contained in those words.

"Without the Mountain Rabbits, there would have been nothing left to return to. You appear every time you're needed most. I cannot but express my gratitude."

There was no bluster in those words, no hollow flattery. He spoke only the truth.

To that, Calix asked,

"What is the situation inside the forest?"

A brief silence followed. Rather than answering immediately, Belmar leaned against a tent post, sat down, and removed his gauntlets. Across the back of his calloused hands were small, scattered wounds.

"No matter how many I kill, the enemy's numbers do not decrease."

He opened his mouth quietly.

"The shape of the forest is changing. It is not trees that grow—but masses of rotting flesh that multiply. The priests say that darkness is growing beneath the roots."

The Master allowed weariness to show. Tunnel Worms burst up from the rear; enemy forces surged from the front. Within all of that, he had been fighting with desperate, clawing effort.

"Especially since the continent's south fell into the enemy's grasp, it has grown far worse. My individual strength alone was not enough to hold back every wave."

He traced a line in the air with his finger.

"And so, this was my best. I have done nothing but hold the line along the forest's edge. Because if this line breaks, the Astria Kingdom falls with it."

Belmar wiped his face with a damp cloth and said nothing for a long while.

Calix did not open his mouth easily either. Both men knew all too well that this war would not end in a single stroke.

"And if Astria falls, the west of the continent will topple in turn. Therefore I……cannot leave this line."

A deep silence lingered for some time.

At its end, he drew a slow breath across the back of his hand and lifted his head. Belmar looked at Calix's face—as though he were peering not at the sword, but at the will of one human being.

"Calix. What we need now is not a hero. It is direction."

The words were brief and dry, yet one could feel how long he had wrestled with himself before speaking them. In them were acknowledgment, resignation, and a plea, all intertwined.

"I saw the look in Adrian's eyes. He has become quite capable. Whereas I am nothing more than one who guards the front line. At the very least—I cannot do this by my strength alone."

"……Sir Belmar."

Calix parted his lips, but Belmar raised a hand to cut him off.

Then slowly, his body leaned toward Calix.

"And the one who will end this war must fight from a different place."

The gazes of those around them gathered on Belmar. Royce, Marik, and the other Mountain Rabbits listened quietly; Calix gave a nod and adopted a posture of attentive listening.

It was at that moment.

Whoooosh.

A chill wind swept through. But it was not the enemy.

Calix sensed the pulse of energy and looked up at the sky. An amber-hued presence. Something unmistakably familiar—he had encountered it once before.

"The Wandering One……Kailo Felderwin."

Belmar narrowed his eyes as he spoke.

"How fitting—the one who could explain has arrived."

Moments later, a mage in the form of a feather descended to the earth.

* * *

Before the feather had even touched the ground, a stir rippled through the soldiers.

"A mage!"

"It's the guardian of the front lines!"

A small cheer broke out within the forward base. For every time he had revealed himself, the front line had held on in uncanny fashion. Monster raids delayed by hours, or suddenly veering off in an unexpected direction. The soldiers called it the miracles of the mage.

Cailo Felderwin—a mage driven neither by the interests of particular factions nor of individuals. And on this battlefield, even Master Belmar had been borrowing his shadow.

When the afterglow of the feathers faded, a man in an amber robe alighted quietly. His eyes were still clear—the same gaze as when he had first faced Calix, long ago.

And yet, something had changed.

"Calix."

"……So you speak in human tongue now."

"I had merely forgotten it for a time. I have relearned it."

He smiled, one beat slower than usual, as was his way.

"A reunion is always welcome. The one who fights for the Light of Dawn stands once more before the darkness."

Calix gave a nod and stepped forward.

"It has been a while, Sir Felderwin."

Belmar also rose from his seat to receive him.

"Were it not for your assistance today as well, we would not have detected the enemy's raid in advance. Thanks to you, many were able to survive. I cannot help but express my gratitude."

Felderwin merely raised one hand lightly.

"I did nothing more than point to a spark I could see from the road. Extinguishing it, Belmar—that was your role."

Just then, the mage's gaze drifted across the wreckage-strewn forward base.

"But now, that is no longer enough."

He turned his body slowly toward Calix.

"Calix, the war has already spread far beyond that horizon. The noble-born fear losing their territory—but I……"

His words paused for a moment.

When he spoke again, Felderwin's voice had dropped an entire register.

"……I fear that the world itself will disappear."

As those final words fell, the air around them settled into a chilling stillness.

Calix exchanged a glance with Royce, then asked carefully,

"Would you be willing to tell us of the situation across the continent?"

Rather than answer, Felderwin raised his hand. Amber energy bloomed between his fingers. A cluster of light spread outward, and overlapping shapes rose one after another.

Soon, brief glimpses of places scattered across the continent flickered into being.

These were things he had gone to see for himself—things he had witnessed and endured.

[Southeast Astria—]

A crumbled city wall. A city blanketed in the dark energy of darkness. An unseen monster spread massive wings and burned its way through buildings and alleyways.

[The Viale Forest—]

Deep crimson tissue wrapped itself around the base of the trees. The mage Minebris was barely holding back the energy erosion through sheer force of will.

[The Coast of Latia—]

Dark sea fog swallowed the harbor, and ships abandoned navigation, sealing off the maritime passages.

And last of all—[The Kingdom of Gardia.]

In a royal castle reduced to ruin, something redder than blood pulsed slowly at the heart of the city.

The tendons rose on the back of Calix's hand. He said nothing, but the answer had already been reached. Belmar, too, could not tear his eyes from the scene the mage had shown.

"……So it has perished after all."

"Perished? No. Annihilated."

Felderwin's tone was composed, yet within it lay a cold and certain conviction.

"Gardia's royal family is finished. The descendants of the great mercenary king chose to fight in the midst of despair. Rather than become monsters, they chose death."

Calix narrowed his brows at the final words. Felderwin gave them time to think, then slowly exhaled.

"To wait is only to delay death. Yet to fight alone will not do either. A different way is needed now."

Belmar asked in a low voice,

"A different way—what do you mean?"

"The Corrupted Lord, De Generitum. The being that is the source of darkness must be destroyed."

"So then, how in the world do we—"

"The power of the continent must be gathered as one. The time has come—there will be no one who dares refuse to answer that call."

At those words, Belmar turned and looked at Calix. He was the symbol of resistance, the sole figure capable of raising the banner of counterattack.

Objectively speaking, there was no room to disagree.

It was then that Felderwin added one final thing.

"And the one who will gather those voices—"

The mage's gaze pierced straight through Calix.

"—is you."

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