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Chapter 96: The Fall Part 2
After Radi finished speaking, silence hung heavy in the air. A cool breeze swept across the battlefield, carrying with it the faint metallic tang of blood. Conrad, the demonic leader of the Card Mercenary Company, and the Dark Priest stood motionless, as if savoring the weight of the information they had just gleaned.
Conrad tilted his head upward, a faint smile playing on his lips—a gesture that could have been interpreted as approval for the young man’s cooperation. But Conrad always smiled, whether at someone’s death or submission.
"Twelve Silver-rank guards," he repeated Radi's earlier words, his tone thoughtful. "What do you think?"
"Twelve?" The Dark Priest raised an eyebrow. "It’s plausible—even if it’s a ruse, it’s true that Macaro’s main force doesn’t include that young man."
"No need to doubt further," Conrad interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. He turned back to the kneeling Radi. "You’re nobility from the Celestial Realm?"
Radi hesitated, then quickly nodded.
"Good. It seems you’re worth more than those others." Conrad’s grin widened, sharp and predatory. "We don’t keep useless people around, which is why they’ve all been dealt with. But you’re different—resolute and clear about what you want. The Gray Wolves Mercenary Company is finished. A wise man knows when to adapt. Are you willing to work with us?"
The white-haired young man stared up at him, momentarily stunned. Was this some twisted test? He feared Conrad might push too far after mentioning his noble lineage. But the message was clear: refusal would mean sharing the fate of the others.
Radi’s mind churned once more. He had already betrayed his conscience once. Now, like a merchant desperate to recoup losses, he clung to the hope of salvaging something from this ruin. Conrad offered him a lifeline, however frayed. After only a moment’s hesitation, Radi clenched his teeth and seized it.
Death could wait—for now.
The young mercenary captain chuckled. "Very well. I’ll lend you someone—or rather, a team. You’ll lead them to catch up with those fifteen individuals. You don’t have to kill them, though if you succeed…" Conrad leaned down, patting Radi’s cheek mockingly, "I’ll step aside and let you take my position as commander. Don’t worry—I won’t lie to you. Once this task is done, I’ll be moving on to other matters."
But Radi barely heard him. Relief washed over the young man when he realized his mission involved pursuing Brandon. He had steeled himself for worse, but avoiding such a fate was a blessing. For a fleeting moment, he felt a flicker of gratitude for his decision.
And then there was the tantalizing offer—the chance to lead the Card Mercenary Company, one of the most formidable mercenary companies in the southern lands. Though not as renowned as the Gray Wolves, its reputation still commanded respect. The thought of claiming leadership sent a thrill through Radi.
Yet as he looked up, his gaze faltered. The Dark Priest had stepped aside, revealing a figure shrouded in a long black cloak, wreathed in swirling darkness. Radi recognized the weapon peeking out from beneath the fabric.
"Cinnabar…" he murmured under his breath.
"Oh, so her name is Cinnabar?" The Dark Priest smirked darkly. "Well, we’ll stick with that. Naming isn’t my strong suit. Once you complete your task, she’s yours."
Radi’s throat tightened, his hands instinctively clenching. His feelings for the red-haired girl were no secret within the company. Yet Cinnabar’s heart belonged solely to Aiko; her affection for others extended only to familial bonds. Radi knew this all too well, yet he couldn’t help but harbor a sliver of hope. Perhaps, after Yura and Aiko wed, fortune might smile upon him.
Deep down, he knew the odds were slim.
He inhaled sharply. Though this Cinnabar seemed somewhat different from the girl he had once known, what did it matter now? Conrad’s earlier words echoed in his mind: The Gray Wolves are finished. Yet Radi knew Yura still lived. In fact, very few people knew that he not only harbored feelings for Cinnabar but also secretly coveted the blind girl—though this was nothing more than an impossible hypothesis, a fleeting ambition he had buried deep within himself.
Now, the dormant beast within him stirred, restless and hungry.
---
Conrad observed Radi’s reaction, a subtle smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Turning away, he tossed the ceremonial dagger back to the Dark Priest—it was sacred, unfit for mundane killings. As a member of the Treeminders, Conrad understood the sanctity of rituals, part of the grand plan to usher in the Dragon of Darkness.
The Dark Priest glanced at the red-haired girl before hastening to follow Conrad. Bowing his head deferentially, he spoke in his usual somber tone. "You truly are a master manipulator of hearts."
Only he knew the truth: Conrad hadn’t asked the mercenaries a single question. Every act, every word, had been staged for Radi’s benefit. From the start, Conrad had seen through the young man’s weakness.
"Human nature is frail, driven by self-preservation. I don’t manipulate anyone—I simply give them choices." The Card Mercenary Company commander shrugged. "Unlike those who prattle on about honor and justice, I have one virtue: I never lie."
The Dark Priest chuckled softly. "But humans are cunning. They hide their vulnerabilities."
"Hence why interrogation is an art," Conrad replied smoothly. "Truthfully, I value his status. Planting a pawn in the Celestial Realm may prove useful someday. But why agree to lend him our newest acquisition?"
"That girl’s will remains unbroken. Let her witness how despicable her former comrades can become. Only by confronting humanity’s darker side will she fully embrace the truths offered by the Blood of Gods."
"A fine plan."
"And what of your thoughts, Commander?"
"We prepare ourselves and move ahead to Hjúkigr. Their choice to head northeast, into lizardfolk territory, reeks of reverse psychology. Even Fox nearly deceived me this time."
"To be honest," the Dark Priest muttered, shaking his head, "I loathe dealing with that foul lizard."
"I share your sentiment."
Conrad removed his bloodstained gloves, his voice calm and final.
---
Last night’s starlit sky seemed to foretell today’s clear weather. Save for the participants, none might ever know of the forest’s brutal slaughter. The only trace left behind was the faint plumes of black smoke trailing behind Brandon’s group. The relentless sun scorched the forest canopy, its verdant hues vibrant and almost surreal—a testament to life’s resilience.
Though unlikely, the mercenaries couldn’t shake the suspicion that these trees thrived on the blood spilled last night. Whispers circulated among them, too low to escape Brandon’s keen ears.
"Superstition is a dangerous thing," Brandon muttered, turning over the dark card in his hand. Made of silver, it gleamed with an eerie obsidian sheen. Metissa’s warm smile contrasted starkly with the sinister aura emanating from the artifact. It was his sole black card, yet finding a land card capable of channeling dark energy remained elusive.
If he could summon the girl soon, he’d hold immense power for quite some time. But for now, progress eluded him.
His gaze lingered on the card—he froze mid-motion, recalling the faint tremor in his chest the previous night. Among Planeswalkers, such resonance indicated the presence of another card from the same deck nearby. Had he not ascended as a Planeswalker, the reaction likely would not have been treated as a 'card resonance' but rather a 'magic energy surge,' similar to what had occurred during their previous encounter in the Valley of the Golden Magic Tree.
To his astonishment, the card that responded to the resonance was the Unicorn Knight representing Metissa—a Fate Card from the Eternal Song deck, crafted specifically for him. New rules had emerged unexpectedly, hinting at untapped potential.
Perhaps it was a newly formed Fate Card or an entity aligned with Metissa’s attributes—be it equipment, creature, or domain. Regardless, it suggested the possibility of sealing it into the deck. Alas, it couldn’t be a land card; Brandon knew that, barring rare exceptions, land cards rarely resonated with others.
This resonance had occurred six times since the previous night, growing stronger each time. The latest instance, barely an hour ago, had been startlingly close, almost to their left. Could it belong to a sentient being, or was someone carrying the card while traveling?
Brandon glanced at the sun. Morning had given way to noon after a night of relentless marching. Iron-rank strength or a constitution exceeding three units rendered sleep deprivation negligible. Still, Roma and Antietta struggled slightly. Thankfully, the wild elf sisters ensured they kept pace.
Time was short. Delays at the Order Altar had cost them dearly, leaving no room for further setbacks.
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