Chapter 208: At the End of All Choices
The continental alliance forces were positioned at the heart of the front line. Between the southern Gardia front and the eastern Land of Shadows. They held their ground firmly with enemies on both sides.
Minor skirmishes continued without end, yet the massive encampment appeared deceptively peaceful at a glance. When the wind blew, the smell of earth reached them first. The stench of mana had yet to arrive. At night, temperatures dropped rapidly, and the boundary between day and night was more ambiguous than expected. The body would feel the cold first, and only then would one notice the sun had begun to sink.
A sentry was polishing the blade of his spear.
The motion of his hand rubbing across the metal was mechanical. The blood that had dried during the previous battle would not come off easily. The more he scraped, the more the stain seemed to spread. He knew there was no real need to clean it, yet his hand kept moving without pause.
He could not quite recall what day it was.
It was because there was no sense of one day ending. He had woken from sleep, stood guard, and rotated shifts with the other troops, yet the feeling that anything had changed simply would not come. All that remained was the reality of the same scenery filling his eyes once more.
Even so, he was not anxious, in a way that felt strange.
Supplies had arrived on time, and the weapons were still serviceable. The defensive line was properly organized, and the surroundings were clean. Someone might have called this place a front line, but to the soldiers on the ground, it looked like somewhere they could settle in for a good while.
Everything was fine.
"This is manageable enough, don't you think."
Quite an honest remark slipped out from among the soldiers. No one disputed it. It did not mean they could afford to let their guard down. With the decisive battle drawing near, it was simply a desire to savor a brief moment of peace a little longer.
However, the stretch of time between morning and noon was exceptionally noisy. The sounds of hooves and steel filled the air. The separate detachment—composed of Marik, Volga, and others from the Mountain Rabbits alongside the knights—poured out beyond the encampment.
Even when the enemy was not in sight, the news kept flying in.
"……So it's beginning at last."
The soldiers watched the allied cavalry disappear in a cloud of dust. Then they turned their heads toward the center of the encampment. It was where Calix stood.
He rarely stepped forward. Except when receiving reports, he did not show himself outside. And yet that fact alone was enough.
The fact that Calix was not moving meant one thing. The front line was still holding, and nothing appeared to be wrong.
For now.
***
Though Hadiya's scouting party brought news that the enemy was approaching, it did not immediately translate into a defensive posture. The Mountain Rabbits went out beyond the base the moment direction and numbers were confirmed, intercepting preemptively.
From within the dust cloud, the cavalry led by Royce burst forward. When the Mountain Rabbits drove in first, the knights followed up and pushed hard.
Every battle was brief.
It was rare for the enemy's numbers to exceed a thousand, and even then, the groups were split apart before they could merge. Blades clashed, spears snapped, and the fighting was resolved simply with a few cavalry charges.
That was all there was to it.
Mopping up, then returning. Over and over again.
Those who returned to the base immediately switched out with the standby forces. Royce caught his breath and relayed points of caution to Vice-captain Marik. Volga and Zahira followed behind him.
"What's the next target?"
When the report went up, the reply came back swiftly.
The Mountain Rabbits headed back outside.
The enemy was not strong. At least, not until now.
The problem was that the attacks did not end in a single wave. When one group was scattered, movement from yet another direction was detected. Only the direction changed, while the intervals grew progressively shorter.
Naturally, the movements of the Mountain Rabbits gradually slowed. Fatigue accumulated, and first of all the warhorses' movements grew heavy.
The speed at which swords were raised fell subtly behind, and the destructive force of cavalry charges visibly diminished. There were no soldiers with serious injuries. The armor and weapons were still holding up well enough. But time to rest was rapidly disappearing.
"We ride out again."
Still, they could not stop.
The Mountain Rabbits pressed on with their attacks, drawing on their experience as mercenaries.
Adrian indicated the Path of Fortune, sweeping over the enemy's flank, and Basim maximized assault power by leading the Rockboar cavalry at the front. Hadiya put on a masterful display of deception to lure the enemy in, and in moments of crisis, Marik released divine power to save their comrades.
One day, two days, then a full week.
The enemy's offensive briefly ceased.
The separate detachment returned to base, and the soldiers finally set down their weapons and drew breath. Fatigue had piled up, but they had inflicted heavy losses on the enemy in equal measure.
The tide of battle was, without question, in the hands of the alliance.
It was then.
Far to the east—beyond the Land of Shadows—dust rose. It moved in a direction contrary to the flow of the wind. At the same time, a similar movement was observed from the south as well. At first it appeared like heat haze, but soon it became unmistakably clear that it was the enemy's forces.
The numbers were different.
It was a scale that bore no comparison to anything that had appeared until now. Scouts returned and delivered their reports with grim expressions. Two directions—south and east. They were closing in from both sides simultaneously.
A deep silence settled over the encampment.
This could no longer be called a minor offensive—the enemy's vast army was approaching. Calix stood watching that sight.
The true wave was, slowly, rising.
***
That night, Calix could not fall into deep sleep.
The Masters were going to the battlefield in his stead, and reports of victories were coming in from across the front line, yet inner peace would not come. His body was clearly resting, but his consciousness could not reach beneath the surface of sleep.
Then, his neural accelerator emitted a faint resonance.
The mana of darkness was reverberating.
The moment he opened his eyes, he was not inside the encampment tent, but standing in a deep layer of a dream. A space where neither ground nor sky could be distinguished. Beneath his feet, black fog was flowing, and suspended in the air were old memories, settling in like moisture.
There, was the Draug.
Looking back, it had been quite a long acquaintance. The monster's form was the same as before. Its limbs were abnormally long, and across its body, dark crimson patterns flickered faintly. Yet at some point, no killing intent could be felt in those eyes.
[It has been a while.]
The voice was like the scrape of metal. Even within a dream, it came through with startling clarity.
Calix did not reach for a sword. He knew by instinct that drawing a weapon here would be meaningless.
"You were still following me."
[Not 'still'. We have been connected from the very beginning.]
The Draug tilted its head. At that strange motion, the surrounding darkness created ripples.
[That I followed you was my own will, but that I watched was by order. By the will of De Generitum, I recorded your footsteps.]
Calix quietly asked in return.
"Was there anything worth recording?"
[Yes. There was.]
The Draug fell briefly silent.
[When you defeated Midra, I thought it was luck. But when you achieved victory over Kohtan……it was astonishing. I witnessed an error I could not comprehend, and through it, I suffered.]
For the first time, the monster's voice wavered.
[You were supposed to die. Every given outcome converged to that conclusion. Yet you survived. And through that, you began to lead fate down a different orbit.]
The darkness slowly crept in.
The pressure mounted, yet Calix did not so much as blink. He had reached the point where the existence called darkness no longer preoccupied him.
He, too, had grown stronger.
"What is fate……no. What exactly is darkness?"
He asked.
The Draug's eyes fixed its gaze on Calix.
[Humans call it a cursed power. A calamity, the ruin that desire summons, or else other names.]
The monster's gaze pierced beyond the boundary of the dream, to whatever lay past it.
[Yet this too is a byproduct of choice. Discarded possibilities, ignored outcomes, variables excluded from the law. It is a force that composes the world and upholds its center.]
"……I heard something similar from the mages as well."
At that answer, the Draug laughed briefly. It was less a sound and more a motion—a fine trembling of its upper body.
[A contradiction. The seven mages already know the answer.]
"The end of the war?"
[No. The fact that they cannot intervene.]
The Draug spoke decisively.
[The moment they step forward, this war becomes something that cannot be stopped. The order of the living and the peace of the dead will both come to an end. The world will collapse, and that is not victory……it is ruin.]
"But Yelayen did not stay silent."
[He is young. He could not completely sever his ties to the living world. That is why he struggles and flails—yet he cannot change anything by his own hand.]
Calix narrowed his eyes. True to those words, Yelayen and Felderwin had rarely intervened in battle. They offered counsel, but did not actively insert themselves.
The decisive battle with De Generitum would be no different. The one to determine the outcome would be none other than Calix himself, and no one else.
Silence descended.
Then, all of a sudden, the Draug opened its mouth once more.
This time it was a clear warning. In some ways, it resembled a prophecy as well.
[Your death draws near, Calix.]
Yet at the same time, it was neither.
[You are already standing at the end of all choices. Whichever you select, it is fixed as one, death.]
"……Is that so."
Calix listened to the other's words and sank into deep thought.
And soon after, he answered with composure.
"Then I should at least leave something behind."
[What do you mean.]
"I'm going to prove through action that I was here."
At those resolute words, the Draug's darkness surged and trembled greatly.
[Are you……not afraid of annihilation.]
It was a question repeated many times over.
"I am afraid."
To this, Calix also answered honestly, as he had before.
"But I have no intention of running from it."
In that moment, the Draug's gaze wavered. The monster's eyes turned away from Calix's look and gazed elsewhere. A heart in turmoil revealed itself through the trembling of its mana.
[……I have watched you for a long time.]
At the end of that, a voice that seemed to deliberate spilled out.
[You are a variable. No matter how grand a plan may be, it crumbles from a very trivial crack.]
The monster born from within a grave, the Draug, peered into the young man's eyes. Within them was neither hatred, nor contempt, nor malice.
Calix was calmly accepting reality. While leaning on his companions, he trusted in his own ability. Without setting limits on himself, he had trudged quietly forward.
The Draug, on the other hand—
[De Generitum does not know that.]
The dream world began to slowly crumble.
[But it will come to know soon enough.]
The Draug's form grew hazy.
[Calix.]
Its final voice echoed faintly.
[Next time will not be a question and answer—it will be the moment of choice.]
At the same instant, the mana of darkness settled completely.
Calix drew a sharp breath and snapped his eyes open. The drowsiness vanished in an instant, and the ceiling of the encampment tent came into view.
The night was still deep, and outside was quiet.
Yet the lingering impression the Draug had left behind was not easily erased.