Chapter 28

Chapter 28
Three days had gone by since they had acquired the Ring of the Arrogant One and started their arrangements to travel North. By the time the knights and troops were fully ready, the main expeditionary group had already set out for the Northern territories.

Shortly after they themselves departed…

“Deus Macallian.”

A man with long blue hair and a vertical scar marking his face walked up to Deus. It was Fiola, a Master Knight of Caliban, also called the Fourth Sword.

“You attacked my disciple,” Fiola stated, his face icy, his gaze burning with suppressed rage.

Deus answered with a detached look. “Your disciple was disrespectful to the person I owe a debt.”

“So that justifies you beating another man’s follower into a pulp?”

“Are you suggesting it doesn’t?” Deus countered.

Fiola scowled at his response. His fury was plain to see, and the potent force radiating from him saturated the atmosphere, making the surrounding knights break into a cold sweat. Yet Deus, who faced the full pressure of this power directly, stood completely unmoved.

“Consider yourself fortunate I let him live, Fiola.”

Deus’s own presence grew even more menacing, a fearsome purple energy swirling around him to bear down on Fiola. The strain between them was so heavy it felt as if blades would be drawn the instant one of them made a move. But after a long, silent pause…

“Tch.”

Fiola was the one to back down first. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and shot a look at Count Palatio, who was positioned behind Deus.

“This isn’t over,” Fiola warned, then walked back to the battalion where he was quartered.

Standing by himself, watching Fiola retreat, Alon reflected, ‘He’s frightening.’

A prickling sensation ran through his hands as he unconsciously flexed them. ‘So that is the caliber of a Master Knight.’

The mere pressure Fiola had let off, even unintentionally, had been enough to leave Alon gasping for air. Nearby, Evan mumbled in a stunned voice, “That’s absurd… he’s an absolute beast.”

Alon looked over at Deus. Despite the crushing force Fiola had aimed his way, Deus displayed no unease, which served as another stark reminder that Deus was also a Master Knight. It wasn’t that Alon had forgotten this truth, but Deus had been acting so mildly toward him lately that witnessing this side of him was a jolt.

‘To be honest, he’s fairly impolite to everyone but me,’ Alon considered. He remembered the gossip from days prior about Deus and thought of the instance when Deus had barked at Evan, “Quiet, old man.”

‘Saving his sister was definitely the correct decision,’ Alon told himself. At first, he hadn’t grasped why Deus was so compliant with him, but now it was starting to make sense. In fact, he didn’t really need to wonder anymore. Simply observing how Deus acted around his sister provided all the explanation.

‘Perhaps later, if I’m managing my lands and call for aid, he’ll rush to my rescue,’ Alon smiled at the idea, though he knew inwardly that Deus wouldn’t extend himself that far. He gave a slight shrug and went back to his carriage. The journey to the North pressed on.

***

Two weeks and three days later…

The expedition crossed the boundary separating Caliban from the North and reached the first outpost. There, they were given three updates.

The first was that Delman, the Third Sword, had been killed. He had vanished after reports came in that the eastern outpost of Caliban had been overrun and the foe had emerged.

The second was that Kiriana, the Second Sword, who had been commanding a forward party to the western outpost, had been gravely wounded in a clash with the enemy.

And the last report was…

“The undead, you claim?”

The messenger confirmed that the enemy was marching on the outpost, commanding a force of undead soldiers.

“Yes, my lord. The enemy has been raising the dead, turning slain soldiers and knights into undead, and adding them to their ranks.”

Hearing the messenger’s words, Fiola released a heavy breath and murmured, “This is a problem.”

Deus, listening to the same report, stayed quiet. If the messenger was correct, the circumstances were distinctly disadvantageous for Caliban.

The mood in the command tent was strained. Even the Master Knights and the nobles in charge of the troops were hesitant to voice their thoughts. At last, one noble tentatively proposed, “Should we consider a retreat?”

That single question unleashed a torrent of arguments from the others present.

“Are you out of your mind? You want us to flee from these savages?”

“That’s not what I’m saying! I am suggesting we wait for a more favorable moment. Our position is already weak, the Second Sword is badly hurt, and let’s not forget Reinhardt has not yet come out of his seclusion. Do you honestly believe we can win like this?”

“And at this stage, do you think our wounded could even get away before the barbarians reach the outpost?”

The room swiftly fell into disorder, but in the end, the nobles’ views carried little real authority. The actual command of the expedition lay with the two Master Knights. Soon, all eyes turned to Fiola and Deus for a decision.

“We’ll take some time to consider. I will summon everyone for another meeting shortly. Until then, rest and gather your thoughts,” Fiola declared, getting to his feet. Deus also stood without a word and left the tent.

Outside, the terrain was the same monotonous gray as ever. But to Deus, who had attained a specific degree of mastery as a Master Knight, the world appeared entirely altered.

The red snowfields.

Through Deus’s eyes, the gray land was transformed into a crimson realm, saturated with a strange and malevolent force. The sky, devoured by this baleful red mana, was at once stunning and horrifying, a vision that sent a slight chill through even someone as formidable as Deus.

He studied this bizarre world without a sound. After a brief look at Fiola, who was undoubtedly witnessing the same spectacle, Deus turned his attention to another spot.

There, he saw Alon, the Great Moon. Even with this frightening world laid out before him, Alon exhibited no fear or wonder. Instead, he sat peacefully near the fire, chewing on a sweet potato with a vacant look. Unlike Deus, who was captivated by the crimson heavens, Alon had not once looked at the ominous vista. He merely muttered under his breath while he ate.

“Diffraction, compression, focal point, annihilation.”

The Great Moon uttered these baffling phrases as if he had witnessed this world on many prior occasions, words that made no sense to Deus. Observing him, Deus felt a growing interest in Alon’s reasons for coming to the North.

Naturally, Deus had a general notion that the Great Moon was here to confront the enemy, but that didn’t answer all his doubts. From Deus’s point of view, the Great Moon didn’t appear especially powerful, not in the present, nor in the past.

‘Perhaps he is simply unable to perceive what I see…’

Deus looked up again at the red sky.

This sight was visible only to those who had achieved a certain level of insight. The sinister scenery was potent enough to make him grimace on instinct.

But what if the Great Moon simply could not see this? In that case, his behavior might be somewhat explained. Just as Deus was turning this over in his mind…

“Ugh, I said get away from me!” A sharp, loud voice suddenly drew Deus’s notice. Looking toward the commotion, he saw a knight confronting a mage.

“Please, just a bit more assistance! You understand how desperate things are!” the knight begged.

“I know that! But I can’t do anything beyond what I’ve already done! I need to go!”

“Even so, just one more attempt…!”

“No! I told you, it can’t be done, you fools!”

The mage shrieked, nearly hysterical, while the knights kept crowding her. Deus identified the knights by their insignia—they belonged to “Silver Shade,” the knight order of Caliban’s Second Sword, Kiriana.

Facing them was Penia, the Deputy Tower Master of the Blue Tower.

“Ugh, pulled all the way out here for research when I’m swamped with work, why can’t they just back off?!” Penia grumbled.

“But shouldn’t helping the wounded be the priority…?” the knight pressed.

“I’m saying I’ve reached my limit! There is nothing left for me to do! It’s not a refusal—I’ve given everything I have!”

Watching the outburst from Penia, the young genius of the magical arts who had achieved the 6th rank so early, Deus was briefly perplexed but soon comprehended. He recalled that the Caliban outpost was cooperating with mages from the Blue Tower to study the barbarians’ ‘rituals.’

‘Deputy Tower Master… She is potent,’ Deus noted, sensing the formidable power she emitted.

As Penia irritably shoved past the knights, she noticed Deus blocking her way. She glowered and started to speak—

“What do you—”

—but she cut herself off, freezing mid-sentence.

“…?”

Deus was puzzled by her abrupt silence. Then he saw that her focus wasn’t on him, but on a figure behind him.

“Wh-why…?” Penia’s voice quivered, shattering the quiet, and pure dread filled her eyes as if she had glimpsed something unimaginable. Her frame trembled slightly, and Deus instinctively turned to follow her stare.

There stood Alon, who just moments before had been snacking on a sweet potato. Now he was watching Deus and Penia with a confused look.

A short silence hung in the air, and then…

“It’s been a long time, Deputy Tower Master,” Alon said, his tone even.

“Y-yes, greetings…!” Penia stammered, suddenly behaving like a frightened kitten, her head bowed, all her earlier hysterics vanished.

“How have you been?” Alon inquired.

“I-I’ve been fine…!”

Seeing Penia, whom Deus had just assessed as a formidable presence, now shrinking back like a scared animal, he could only feel deeply bewildered.

‘Have I been misjudging the situation all along?’ Deus wondered, privately reassessing his comprehension of events.