Chapter 224

Chapter 224
## Chapter 224

### Calcos Tribal Federation (2)

Deep within a pavilion adorned with bizarre and mystical trinkets, the heavy fragrance of smoldering medicinal herbs saturated the room.

Clink— Clatter!

Bleached bone shards, cast without care, tumbled across the surface of a circular bronze platter. The elderly matriarch who had thrown them let out a weary groan and shook her head in defeat.

“Ah… My vision fails me completely now. Old age has finally caught up.”

High Shaman Morna, her weathered visage painted with intricate, vibrant ritual markings, squeezed her eyelids shut, her features twisted in distress. For a typical mystic, foretelling the future was never a flawless endeavor, but… she was a High Shaman, possessing more than enough spiritual might to effortlessly forecast basic omens of fortune or doom.

‘It ought to have been simple… Yet the veil of tomorrow has been clouded for weeks, and now I cannot discern even a single step ahead.’

Parting her eyelids with deliberation, she peered through the slit of the pavilion’s entrance. Outside, an endless sea of people surged forward with a singular, chilling focus. They were frantically arming themselves for battle, moving as though gripped by an external frenzy.

‘Baltheon… What madness are you orchestrating?’

Yet she remained a captive within these walls, utterly powerless. Ever since the grand gathering of leaders concluded, she had been confined to this solitary tent. Had her renowned status not been essential for keeping a handful of volatile clans cooperative, she would likely have been executed long ago.

‘How much longer will that protection hold? I have executed what small plays I could… but now the ultimate outcome rests entirely with the heavens.’

Relying purely on her spiritual instincts, she had secretly established contact with the gargantuan brawler, successfully evading the vigilant eyes of her captors. He was no ordinary mortal, and she was certain he would have initiated countermeasures the moment he caught wind of the upheaval brewing in the southern territories.

‘And yet…’

Abruptly, Morna’s expression turned rigid.

“…What is this terrifying pressure?”

Her eyes stretched wide with sudden alarm.

“Could it be… we are already too late…?”

She cast her gaze toward Beorsen, the citadel serving as Baltheon’s seat of power, watching through a narrow gap in the canvas fabric. Her thoughts turned to her kindred and her chosen successor, isolated somewhere within a distant settlement, and a heavy sigh escaped her lips. All she could do now was petition the spirits that they might be spared from the looming catastrophe.

Vroooo—

Emanating from the epicenter of Beorsen, right where Baltheon’s grand estate stood, a corrupted and horrifying resonance—one she recognized from past nightmares—began to unfurl across the entirety of the settlement.

—

-Howard: The man is utterly unhinged, isn’t he? I possessed a fair inkling of it prior, but this…

-Hesperon:… Heavens, what exactly is his endgame down the line…?

-Heinrich: Cease this at once! You are overstepping the boundaries! Not even you possess the right to…

-Hannibal Strauss: Ah— I have grown weary of this incessant nagging. I shall reestablish connection at a later hour.

-Heinrich: Hold on…!

Hans centered his focus, constructing a mental blockade within his own psyche. It was a fragile barrier when measured against the majestic “Mind Hub” forged by his primary consciousness, yet it sufficed to mute the turbulent arguments echoing from his counterpart vessels.

A short duration later…

《The entity satisfies the prerequisites for advancement. The unique trait “Wicked Wisdom” has assimilated “Clear Mind” and “Insight,” mutating into “Unholy Sage.”》

A glowing notification manifested in his field of vision.

[Hmph, acceptable. This sphere proves quite advantageous.]

He cast a glance at the luminous globe hovering within his spiritual realm, offering a satisfied nod. It was a token presented by Yulryeongja, who had unexpectedly breached his psychological domain. This artifact, capable of magnifying all cognitive faculties, had proven invaluable in filtering out the relentless meddling from his counterpart entities.

‘It is particularly timely, given how their individual autonomy has been expanding of late.’

When his primary body retained awareness and functioned as the anchoring core, the alternative vessels were mere instruments of his will, akin to limbs. They interchanged concepts and recollections effortlessly, a dynamic that persisted even after his core fell into a slumber. Hans, tainted as he was by the depths of the void, remained the sole anomaly.

However, as time progressed, they found themselves forced to convene via a ‘psychic assembly’ whenever explicit correspondence was required. They retained a vague awareness of one another’s thoughts and predicaments, but the mechanics of doing so had grown far more tedious.

‘It is a logical progression. Allowing them to exchange perspectives without restriction would invite catastrophe, given their fierce individualities and the corruption festering inside Hans.’

Hans, specifically, had been pulling further into isolation… and he utilized the artifact to construct a manageable partition, insulating his mind from the collective. Naturally, this fix was temporary, considering they derived from a singular existence… but for the present moment, it served its purpose.

[Hehehe— Ah, what liberation. The fog in my mind has dissipated entirely.]

He could sense the lingering malice that had previously clouded his judgment beginning to crystallize. It was a purer, far more concentrated manifestation of depravity—a distilled core of wickedness and shadow.

[Now then.]

He redirected his focus toward a specific area where the oppressive miasma gathered in immense concentration.

“Grrr— Ahhh—!”

[Hehehehe— Fascinating. To think a mere mortal could tolerate such a massive influx of the void. I suspected as much when he wielded his lunacy, but… he is truly far from mundane.]

Snap— Crackle—!

The massive frame collapsed upon the stone tiles writhed in agony, the musculature twisting violently as waves of dark miasma erupted from his pores. This violent display endured for several minutes before the volatile energy snapped backward, sinking back into the flesh…

Twitch— Shiver—

“Rrrgh… That was excruciating. My previous madness was a mere trifle compared to this essence. He truly earns the title of the Immortal King…”

The hulking figure struggled to a seated posture, releasing a rough growl. His circulatory system pulsed visibly beneath the skin, his vision swam in crimson, and an ominous crimson light radiated from his eyes. A suffocating layer of shadow rolled off his frame by his mere existence.

“Heheheha— It defies belief. For so long, I beat against that insurmountable barrier, and now it has shattered like brittle glass…”

This was Baltheon, the deposed High Chieftain, who had surrendered to the temptations of the Immortal King following a brief period of resistance. He stood transformed into a fiend, having integrated the void into his soul.

[Does this newfound strength satisfy you?]

“Indubitably, and the task you wish executed is…”

[Baltheon.]

Before the warrior could vocalize his thoughts, a freezing declaration reverberated through the stone chamber, instantly cutting him short.

[Mind your station.]

A solitary phrase, brief yet carrying absolute dominion and crushing weight. Was this the conditioning of the dark energy he had just welcomed into his soul? He had finally attained the pinnacle of power he had thirsted for his entire life… yet he found himself entirely unable to speak casually before the Immortal King.

“…What are… your instructions…?”

[Naturally.]

Hannibal Strauss craved absolute dominion over the lands, a supremacy that would yield an astronomical harvest of Karma.

[War.]

The logistical preparations were already finalized, and he stood to reap immense Karma simply by lending his reputation to the cause… but such a passive gain fell short of his ambitions. How could he maximize his spoils now that the legions were poised to trample and claim the prosperous territories?

‘The instrument sits directly before me.’

Baltheon, the supreme warlord of the forces, who now served as his thrall after being twisted by the void. He merely required to dye the entire gathering of tribes in his own personal hues, from the high commanders down to the common foot soldiers!

[Hehehehe—!]

Baptized in the void.

Baptized in demise.

The ultimate fallout mattered not a whit to him.

—

Hans had completely broken off contact with his counterpart vessels, utilizing the sphere within his psychological domain. Direct dialogue was no longer viable, and he would remain ignorant of their activities until he chose to unseal the mental corridors once more.

“Our pace must quicken.”

Heinrich, anchoring the champions’ vanguard, pressed the group onward. Equipped with desert cloaks and arid-climate gear obtained via “Avatar Cloud,” they were rapidly eating up the distance across the barren dunes. Liesta was secured upon Heinrich’s back, while Isea was positioned safely on Harley’s shoulders.

“Harley, your frame is remarkably sturdy and soothing. Traveling with you is like riding a cushioned carriage.”

“Bwahaha! I am blessed with an excellent physique, am I not?!”

Isea, who was diligently maintaining the cloaking and thermal-regulation enchantments for the entire party, offered an appreciative tap to Harley’s back. It wasn’t merely his impressive size; the heavy outer garments were reinforced with plush pelts harvested from a dangerous beast, offering incredible insulation.

As the companions traversed the sands, sharing lighthearted banter… their alternative consciousnesses were locked in an intense debate within their internal forum.

-Heinrich: Leaving Hans to his own devices is out of the question. We must devise a strategy to neutralize his actions.

-Hugo: His mental state is deteriorating rapidly. In the past, he possessed the decency to listen to our council and consider our perspectives… yet now he has bolted the door against us entirely.

-Hubert: Do we even possess an effective countermeasure? Perhaps we could attempt to pierce his vessel utilizing the holy sword…

-Hesperon: From my evaluation, Hans intends to convert every living soul within that citadel into ghouls or aberrations. What of the fresh markings? The elderly mystic is likely stranded there as well.

-Harley: What?! Is that a certainty?! You skull-headed bastard! Have you brought harm to the old grandmother?! Blast it! Give me an answer! Keep your hands off her! Consider this your final warning!

Their disparate consciousnesses collided, each driven by unique anxieties. They formulated tactics while covering ground, yet they remained among the apex entities inhabiting this realm. Consequently, their perceptive faculties dwarfed those of average men.

‘An interception party amid the dunes? Marauders? Or perhaps a reconnaissance detachment?’

They had long since pinpointed a dense gathering of combatants concealed adjacent to their intended route. They possessed the option of bypassing them entirely, given that Isea’s concealment sorcery rendered them invisible to ordinary senses… and yet…

‘Hold on.’

Harley brought his stride to a sudden halt.

“…Harley? What forces your pause…?”

Isea, balancing atop his broad shoulders, questioned him with mild curiosity, though she harbored no true apprehension. They possessed the martial might to effortlessly demolish thirty-meter-tall behemoths; a handful of wasteland scouts posed no authentic hazard.

With Isea’s assistance, Harley dissolved the optical camouflage and advanced into view. He maintained his hood to fend off the swirling sands, leaving his features partially obscured—.

“Ah!”

“Gah!”

Yet his colossal frame and the suffocating presence rolling off his silhouette forced the vanguard troopers to instinctively contract their lines and retreat a step. A select few among them focused their vision, evaluating him with intense scrutiny…

“…That build… It strikes a familiar chord.”

“And that freezing aura… It flows with far greater intensity, but… Could it truly be…?”

“Harley? Is that genuinely Harley?!”

It was an improbable reunion amidst the shifting sands. The Southern Warrior Trio, who had initially clashed with him during his foundational days in the northern territory before evolving into his allies and subordinates, stood before him. Big Luwang, Bearded Turaba, and Scarred Dao.

Harley flung back his hood and strode toward the group.

“Bwahaha! This is a remarkable coincidence, comrades! What brings your swords to this wilderness?”

“Harley, what purpose brings you to these wastes…?”

“Indeed, intelligence suggested you were occupied alongside the chosen hero… Wait, if you are present, that signifies…!”

“Misty! Misty! Adjust your position to the front! Harley has arrived! And the chosen hero accompanies him!”

The unrecognized military force they had stumbled upon during their trek toward Beorsen… they comprised the anti-Baltheon coalition, assembled to dethrone the oppressive High Chieftain. And the young woman in her middle twenties commanding their ranks, Misty…

“Greetings. My senses detected an approach, yet I never anticipated encountering the fabled champions. The cosmos works in mysterious ways. I am known as Misty.”

She was the offspring of the previous High Chieftain, who had governed the southern clans prior to Baltheon’s violent uprising… and she was also High Shaman Morna’s direct descendant and prodigy—a formidable High Shaman in her own right.