Chapter 279

Chapter 279

—

– Do not put this in your mouth. Do not convey it with words, nor leave it in writing. I allow no one but you to know this; hence, it is solely your duty. Your failure will be the first and last failure of your world. There will be no more chances in your world.

– When the myriad gods first wandered this land, they named it the Crucible. It became a forge for lost souls and a whirlwind for the souls of all things in this world.

– A long time has passed, too short to be called by the gods. All mortals sought answers; the mortals from the distant sea buried their continent beneath the waves, and those beneath the earth called what they created “gods,” while those gathered at the world’s end merely revered strength.

– And you have created me. The last god born of this land, I say, how pitiable you are. You are but puppets enacting a different form of the same tragedy as the gods lived through.

– Thus, I have pondered for a long time. To simply call this land “land,” and the sky “sky.” I hope for the day when you will call the celestial bodies you gaze upon the sun, the moon, and the stars.

– Now you are my last chance, and your success will bring freedom to you all; your failure will mean the end of you.

“But I am just an ordinary person. How can I....”

– Did any hero born from the old myths and legends of your land not begin as ordinary? Even if born extraordinary, can that truly prove the exceptional nature of their existence? The success of the exceptional is, instead, an ordinary affair; when an ordinary person’s deeds become extraordinary, we shall call it a great feat. Only achievements not deemed by fate can save a world borne of fate.

– Your ordinariness is, in itself, extraordinary. An individual mortal, strive with a mere person’s will. If you yearn to behold the human world, you must be joyous for the sufficiency of the ordinary rather than lament the absence of the extraordinary.

– Will you do it? Will you attain everything, lose everything once more, and rise again? Without the great narrative of the heroes from the old myths, can you cultivate hope once again upon the land where all you’ve built crumbles, armed only with a broken plow and a rusty rake?

“Yes, I will. I shall carry that will with my own hands and finish it in my generation.”

– Then, henceforth, all things in this land shall call you a hero.

There is no position that requires any qualifications or recognition, no title or authority bestowed upon you.

You are simply a hero. The savior called forth by the gods, the heavens, the world, and fate.

No rewards, blessings, or comforts are given, but you shall walk forth, embodying all the ordinary in the world, stretching out your sword towards the heavens and illuminating hope.

A light in the deep darkness, a lighthouse in the deep sea, and also.

A manifestation of the morning star.

Thus you are called. As you have been called, so shall you act, until you reach the very last page.

His narrative has also passed thirty years. A little more added may reach that extent.

His tale was also advancing towards an inevitable conclusion. However, all from the beginning had known the contents of the last chapter.

The man with the blindfold waited, his dried smile accompanying him. He had walked with all his might to the end of the narrative, but to meet the ending was ultimately nothing but waiting.

He inhaled slowly while joyfully sitting at the end of the hall where darkness had fallen. Though he had long forgotten what joy felt like, a vague sense of anticipation lingered. It would not take long now.

The epilogue took forty years.

—

At this point, Ivan no longer conversed with anyone. He walked with a feeling of impatience as he was deep in thought.

A puzzle.

That was the only word Ivan could think of now. Small pieces coming together as if a complete picture existed.

Nerve-wracking, a suffocating schedule that was tightly packed. Connections intertwining so unnaturally yet intricately. Each had its designated role, as if served a purpose.

Every crisis was precariously designed toward appropriate yet intense resolutions. Looking back, it had always been like that.

Even back in the day, when he was active in the Cleanup Unit, it was the same. No, even before that. One could say it was so from the time he was born the son of a peasant and served in the military as a conscript.

How many times had he been pushed to the brink of death? How many crises had made him want to simply give up?

Yet he remained here. The victory attained through twisted efforts, the hardships thrown at him as if they were mere pranks, then laboriously achieved victories again....

Every crisis was distributed at a level of “difficult yet surmountable.” If this were fate. If this were someone’s plan.

Alexander had said so, that there was a hand in the distant sky.

“This must happen again.”

Ivan whispered softly as he looked up at the night sky. The vast night sky was still adorned with innumerable stars.

There was no longer any destiny. Veolgrin had asserted as much. No more tricks of the gods would infringe upon humans.

The spear swayed precariously as if it would bend, still pressing forth through the gaps of the barricade. Soldiers grasping shields and swords looked upon the barricade with a fervent prayer. It swayed. The barricade seemed as if it would collapse at any moment.

The Taurus were howling as they rushed in.

“Fire!! Hold—!!”

– Tadatak, bullets struck their foreheads, but not many penetrated. Even as their flesh was ripped apart, the red-eyed monsters charged across the battlefield, at times roughly pushing aside their own allies as they charged toward the barricade.

Kuuhng, the barricade shook as one of the stakes broke and fell. The Taurus pierced by the stake fell without strength, but soon the Orcs rushed in over that corpse.

“Your Majesty, the western barricade—.”

“I have eyes too. Captain.”

Elizaveta was still gazing over the battlefield. Her eyes were fixed not on her allies’ situation, but on the approaching lines of enemies.

“What on earth...?”

Elizaveta pondered, deducing the numbers and quality of incoming troops and their operational plans.

If the Seven Dragon Lords personally appeared, this battle would inevitably end. Clearly, it was evident that they wouldn’t last even half a day, let alone two days. With nowhere to escape, annihilation would not be difficult.

Yet the foe remained standing far off, merely watching her.

For fun? For thrill? Is it the unique sadism of the monsters that enjoy watching the struggles of humans?

But no, that couldn’t be. A commander of the Seven Dragon Lords must be competent. That’s why they could trace and follow her to the battlefield she devised.

Thus, they had to be planning minimal losses for this battle. If they aimed to invade the world, if they wished to turn the entire United Kingdom against them, the losses accumulated here would definitely not be favorable.

Her request for support had already reached the entire United Kingdom by now. If timed well, they could gather enough forces in the rear line. To prepare for the turnaround at that time, they would not indulge in a mere thrill while taking losses now.

Amidst the complex thoughts, Elizaveta suddenly muttered.

“They are afraid...?”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“They fear the movements of the 2nd Legion.”

In the Southern Six Nations, Lamerics had died. The decisive reason for his death was, of course, Ivan, but at the place where he died, the 2nd Legion was advancing.

If one were to view objectively without information, it would seem as though the 2nd Legion’s appearance in the Southern Six Nations had led to Lamerics’ death.

Even when Olegha’s followers occupied Frechenkaya, it was the same. As soon as the 2nd Legion and Elizaveta returned home, the chaos in Frechenkaya ended.

‘All of the Seven Dragon Lords fear death.’

Even during the Great War, they did not prevent the death of the Demon King. Just revealing themselves before the Hero Party confirmed death back then.

Then now, with Olegha’s demise and lacking proper intelligence resources, being led by Elizaveta, the 2nd Legion should appear to be equivalent to a Hero Party that had eliminated two of the Seven Dragon Lords.

This meant they only planned to keep distant until gauging what kind of forces lay hidden on their side.

Until they had confidence in whether or not they could dispatch the Seven Dragon Lords, they would not move.

A dry smile curled at the corner of Elizaveta’s mouth. She soon stood up and shouted.

“Withdraw the knights!! We will retreat to the second defensive line!!”

“Your Majesty!! The barricade will fall into chaos!”

“We need to draw them in further! It has to look as if we’re being baited!! Withdraw the barricade. Any barricades that are pushed back will immediately retreat to the reserve position!!”

With exaggerated movements that clearly advertise they are facing a crisis, as if drawing attention on purpose.

It will be obvious it’s a trap, as if bait had been laid until the Seven Dragon Lords emerged.

Thus, the enemy will also become more wary and unable to move.

Yes, as long as the Seven Dragon Lords do not take to the frontline themselves, the 2nd Legion can endure. For a couple of days at least. It would not even warrant hoping for a miracle.

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