Chapter 817

Chapter 817
Every night, a crowd of residents from the Fenris Territory would congregate in a specific spot. They were there to pore over the chronicles left behind by Astion. The group had established a comfortable routine, bringing snacks and settling into their seats to watch. Jerome used his sorcery to project the text onto the sky in a massive display, ensuring everyone had a clear view.

By this point, gathering in the evening to review the records had become a standard part of their daily life, barring any major interruptions. As the days went by, the public’s fascination only intensified.

Claude, in particular, was doubled over with laughter after witnessing the transformation in Ereneth’s conduct once they reached the Elven Forest.

“Hahaha! So that is the true nature of Lady Ereneth!”

His gaze was filled with a mischievous glint. In their current time, Ereneth served as the High Chief of the elves, a figure of absolute poise and gravity. She was someone who wouldn’t dream of acting out of turn or playing jests in public. Yet, in the presence of Ghislain, she dropped every mask. During their initial encounter, she had even attempted to flirt with him without reservation.

Regardless of what she hoped to achieve, the mere existence of such behavior was pure gold to Claude. He sat there, wondering how he might use this information to his advantage. The duration of the contract he had bound himself to was ticking away rapidly. Once that time expired, Claude was essentially a ghost, but he had no intention of departing quietly. He planned to squeeze every drop of entertainment out of these historical revelations.

Watching him, Belinda let out a sigh of disapproval. “Young people can be quite impulsive,” she remarked.

“That isn’t the issue,” Claude countered. “The issue is how much it clashes with the person she is today. It’s hilarious.”

The people nearby gave him looks of pure disgust, but Claude remained unbothered. He had always been a man of that particular temperament. Eventually, Belinda fired back with a pointed jab.

“Wasn’t it you who was sobbing and wailing over Anna…?”

“Hey, stop right there! Don’t you dare! Fine! I’ll shut up, alright?!” Claude waved his arms frantically, his composure crumbling into a panic. Belinda just shook her head. With someone like Claude, giving him a taste of his own medicine was the only effective tactic.

Personal drama aside, the chronicle was packed with gripping events. When the narrative reached the point where the Prophets launched their assault on the elves and dwarves, the audience was on the edge of their seats. Everyone was rooting for the heroes with bated breath. The moment Deneb reached his awakening, the crowd erupted in cheers.

Later, when Marika entered the story, Belinda was delighted, clapping her hands in joy. “My goodness! So our Young Master was the one who instructed her? But then, how did I come to learn it? Did he learn from me and then travel back to teach her?”

The group began to grasp that the future and the past were interwoven, each influencing the other in a complex loop. However, the exact mechanics of how this was possible remained a mystery. It was a concept far beyond human logic, and they eventually had to simply accept it as reality.

A heavy, complicated mood settled over the crowd when they reached the account of meeting Arterion. Unlike the beast they knew from history, that dragon had emerged to signal the end of the human race. And when the truth regarding the Pope was finally laid bare, the people were thrown into a state of utter confusion.

[ …Ghislain specifically requested that I include one detail in my writing: the Pope bears an identical resemblance to the future Duke of Delphine. I am unaware of this man’s identity, but I record this so that those in the ages to come may take note. ]

Claude rubbed his chin, being the first to break the silence. “…The Duke of Delphine is the Adversary? The leader of the Salvation Order?”

Jerome looked equally baffled. “How can that be? The Salvation Order is supposedly searching for their king, aren’t they? If he’s already with them, then why the search?”

Vanessa tilted her head in thought. “Both Lord Astion and Lady Ereneth identified Lord Julien as the Adversary.”

The group fell into a deep, silent contemplation. There was still a glaring lack of concrete information to bridge these gaps. Kaor, with his arms crossed, finally threw out a blunt suggestion.

“Why are you all overthinking this? Maybe the guy just has amnesia. He got reincarnated and turned into a blockhead!”

The explanation was so simple and blunt that no one could immediately argue. When a few of them looked at him with condescending expressions, Kaor snapped.

“Oh, I see! You all think you’re so brilliant! But smart people always overthink and turn simple things into a mess! Just go grab the Duke, beat the truth out of him, and everything will be solved!”

Claude gave a reluctant nod. “There’s some truth to that, but it still doesn’t explain why Lord Julien was the one named as the Adversary. And even if you’re right, they’d never admit it.”

“You little—!”

Just as the two were about to start another physical altercation, Gillian and Belinda stepped in to separate them. Silenced for the moment, Claude returned to the records, keeping his theories to himself.

Jerome was suddenly jolted when he read the part about taking Lucian as a student later on. “Ah! That’s it! That’s it!” He shouted, pointing at the skyward text. “That is the name of the forefather of our mage tower!”

Seeing the crowd’s interest, Jerome excitedly explained the history. “In our tower, we keep the names of every previous Tower Master besides the founder because we follow a ‘Single-Line Transmission’ rule. And the very first name recorded is Lord Lucian!”

Belinda looked on with admiration and asked, “Does it explain why it had to be a Single-Line Transmission?”

“Well… you see…” Jerome faltered slightly as he continued. “We were taught that the tower’s magic was so overwhelming and the training so grueling that we had to find one person of impeccable character to inherit the entire legacy… We believed that for centuries, but…”

His voice trailed off as his confidence waned. The people around him exchanged glances and began to chuckle. They now knew the truth: Ghislain had made up a random excuse on the fly, and it had accidentally become a sacred tradition.

Finally, they reached the chapter where Ghislain had to say goodbye to his companions. A wave of sadness washed over the observers. It was clear from the writing that Ghislain didn’t want to leave his friends behind. Tears were shed among the crowd when the text described Ereneth desperately trying to hold onto him.

But Ghislain was a man of the present. He couldn’t stay in the ancient past forever, and the people in the Fenris Territory were waiting for him to return.

[ …And so, just as Ghislain had appeared out of nowhere one day… he vanished just as suddenly. ]

The moment those words were read, the crowd bolted upright. Without exchanging a single word, they all sprinted toward the room where Ghislain’s body lay. It was a specially prepared chamber, reinforced with top-tier magical wards to keep him in perfect health. Ghislain lay there, looking as though he were merely resting.

“Young Master!”
“Ghislain!”
“My lord!”

They burst into the room, calling his name. They expected him to sit up, shake off the sleep, and greet them with his usual grin.

But nothing happened.

“What… what is going on? Why isn’t he waking up?” Belinda’s voice was shaking.

Jerome rushed to the bedside to examine him. Ghislain’s eyes remained shut, lost in a profound slumber. There was no change in his vital signs or his physical state.

“Dark! Dark!” Jerome shouted, calling for the entity. If Ghislain wanted to, he could manifest Dark as he had before. But the shadow did not appear, and Ghislain did not stir.

Panic began to set in. If the chronicle indicated his departure from the past, he should be conscious now. They couldn’t understand what was wrong. Jerome ran back to the projection of the book.

At that very moment, fresh script began to materialize on the pages.

[ …Following Ghislain’s departure, the conflict with the Demonic Realm entered its most violent stage. Though he is no longer with us… I continue this record for those who will follow in the future. ]

—

“It is time to move,” Astion said.

Julien gave a somber nod. His face was heavy with grief, a sentiment shared by everyone in the group. Ghislain had always been their compass, the one who decided their direction. Losing him wasn’t just losing a friend; it felt like their north star had been extinguished.

However, they couldn’t stay paralyzed by sorrow forever. Astion turned to Julien.

“I will be here to offer my counsel, but you are the commander now. You must be the one to lead.”

“…I understand.”

“Ghislain organized this entire mercenary unit around you for this exact purpose.”

“…I know.”

Ghislain had prepared for his eventual exit, building a foundation so that his friends could succeed even in his absence. Julien stood up, his resolve hardening.

“Let’s march.”

As he moved, the high-ranking officers followed. The focal point of the group had shifted from Ghislain to Julien.

The greater Allied Human Army was a collection of national forces, each answering to their respective sovereigns. While the Saintess acted as a unifying figurehead, she didn’t have direct control over the various militaries. The Julien Mercenary Corps was unique; its loyalty belonged entirely to Julien. Having expanded over many years, the bulk of their forces had already congregated in the Empire for the upcoming campaign.

“Waaaaah!”
“Finally, we’re moving! Move it, you lot!”
“Straighten out those lines, you idiots!”
“Most of you haven’t even seen the commander’s face yet, have you? Memorize it! Don’t end up attacking your own leader because you’re too stupid to recognize him!”

The unit leaders screamed at the top of their lungs, trying to manage the unruly mob. The mercenaries had been recruited from every corner of the world and were difficult to discipline. This was a consequence of Ghislain’s rapid expansion of the corps while assisting different kingdoms. Because the various crowns offered such lucrative rewards, fighters had flocked to join the Julien Mercenary Corps. Many had joined specifically for the glory and pay of the war against the demons.

Consequently, a large portion of the army didn’t know Julien and felt no real loyalty to the cause. they were only there because being part of a large group seemed like the safest bet in such chaotic times.

Astion looked at the disorganized mass and let out a nervous, dry laugh. “Ha… do you think we can actually manage this crowd?”

The core members who had been there since the start were disciplined and understood the prestige of the corps. But the newcomers were a different story—rough, rebellious, and constantly looking for a way to avoid work.

Julien watched the chaos in silence. He didn’t shout for order or attempt to force discipline upon them. He simply led the disorganized march forward.

Astion pulled him aside. “Are you really going to let them act like this?”

“Yes.”

“The lines are a mess. Half of them can’t even keep a proper pace.”

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s just reach the front lines first.”

Julien spoke with a calm, gentle smile. Seeing that expression, Astion decided not to argue further. He remembered what Ghislain had told him:

— Trust Julien’s judgment on most things. Only intervene if it’s absolutely critical.

Despite this, Astion and the others remained deeply worried. They doubted whether Julien possessed the iron will required to command tens of thousands of unruly sellswords. In their minds, Ghislain was the only one who could keep such men in check. With him gone, they feared the corps would crumble.

[ And so, with hearts full of anxiety, we traveled toward the front. Fortunately, the overwhelming strength of the dragon kept the tides of battle in favor of the humans. ]

[ It would take additional time for every army on the continent to finish mobilizing. During this interval, Deneb traveled between the different camps under the dragon’s watch, using the Saintess’s blessing to bolster the spirits of the troops. ]

[ Meanwhile, our unit was tasked with holding a specific sector. There was a temporary fortification there, so it wasn’t a complex assignment. Even our disorganized mercenaries could manage a defensive position. ]

[ However, as the days passed, the frequency of Riftspawn attacks increased. The line we had to hold was too broad, and gaps began to form, allowing enemies to slip through the cracks. ]

[ Ultimately, the Allied command decided to condense the defensive front. And the unit we served in… ]

[ The Julien Mercenary Corps was ordered to take the lead at the very front of the line. ]