Chapter 93 — Eve of Departure
High in the Viale Mountain Range.
A cool mist drifted around a concealed hall. Beneath the massive trees, moss-covered stones were arranged in a circle. At the center stood elven engineers. It was a mixed engineering team unique to Viale, born of collaboration between dwarves and elves.
Sssss.
An aged elf swept his hand through the air, and a teal-colored sacred substance slowly rose from the ground.
Sacred Leaves.
A convergence of mana that blood only in certain places.
"Are you prepared?"
At the quiet question, Volga stepped forward first, as always. It was a matter directly ordered by Luen Sillius of Silant. The finest courtesy and compensation that Viale could offer the Mountain Rabbits.
"I'll go first!"
He stepped forward with a confident voice, and his assistants approached to remove the armor from his entire body. He lay face-down in the treatnt chair, and a short prayer resonated through the air.
At its end, the leaves caught fire.
Fwoooom!
The sparks died down in an instant, but the mana contained within surged outward in all directions. Dust and all other impurities were pushed away. What remained in their place was solely a stream of condensed power.
"Let us begin."
Only then did the elves draw near. In their hands were fine, long needles — tools used to reinforce the circuits of the Neural Accelerator.
Clank.
The mont the outer protective layer of the Neural Accelerator was removed, a faint tremor ran through Volga's entire body before quickly settling.
"……Just look at this neural network. Crude beyond asure."
"Humans are always in a rush to mass-produce things. In a way, it's only natural."
"Tsk, mages would weep if they saw this."
The technicians' exchange revealed the gap between the races. While human nations had specialized in large-scale production of Neural Accelerators, Viale placed technological superiority above all else.
"The maximum output…… I'd say we can raise it by about '1.3 tis'."
"Let's do that."
In quick succession, invisible threads underwent countless adjustnts — correcting the circuits and carving out more efficient pathways.
A short while later, Volga opened his eyes.
"……Huh?"
The young man stared blankly into the air for a mont before snapping his head to the side. He raised one hand, touched his ear, and blinked. All five senses felt different. It was as if he had been reborn.
"Sothing this clean…… Is a first for ……"
"Don't get up, stay still. It hasn't stabilized yet."
"When they changed my Neural Accelerator back in Elvra, it felt like a fog had lifted — but now it's like I'm subrged in cool, clear water! Incredible!"
He clenched and unclenched both fists. The sensitivity of mana flowing through his neural circuits felt entirely different.
It wasn't simply a matter of speed — the density and stability had changed completely.
The treatnts continued for so ti after that.
Marik, Zahira, Hadiya, and even Gregor and Royce. One by one, they entered the sealed space and burned the Sacred Leaves.
"So this is what mana feels like…… When it's truly still."
Vice-captain Marik muttered to himself, and Zahira smiled with her eyes as she replied.
"What's wrong with still? The quiet ones are always the most terrifying."
It was nothing remarkable, yet — all of a sudden — his head lifted. He had spent half his life bound to Wind's Scar. And yet, such a small thing made his chest stir.
Both the Neural Accelerator and its user were ready to step up to the next level.
Not only that, but the Mountain Rabbits were also newly equipped with combat armor and warhorses. Reinforced plate crafted by hand by the dwarves, protective elven sigils engraved on their surfaces, and barding that interfaced with the neural circuits.
On top of that, seasoned elves taught them how to care for the horses, and dwarf artisans replaced the barding, reins, and saddles.
"This…… Makes my body itch for a fight."
Calix watched the excited mbers of his group while stroking Lunos's mane.
Pfrrr.
The loyal warhorse let out a satisfied breath.
As if every last one of them had beco sothing entirely different.
'Once again, I'm ready to fight.'
He felt the sa.
***
The day before departure, more than 2,000 personnel had already gathered at the allied camp. There were the 700 officially dispatched troops and those who had volunteered to join beyond that. Including the supply wagons, it was, in every sense of the word, a single army — and while it appeared unified on the surface, the inner workings were another matter entirely.
Different races, different origins, and different purposes.
Even the gazes directed at the Mountain Rabbits swung between two extres.
"Are those the humans? Apparently they've made quite a na for themselves outside the mountain range."
"It's all noise. There's always exaggeration in long-winded tales."
Among the elite soldiers, wariness and distrust ran thick.
"Rondel, you should have seen it. The mont that human shouted down the thirteen chiefs."
"Hmm. Hard to believe, but I want to believe it. What a sha I couldn't see it myself."
anwhile, the younger soldiers who had co of their own accord whispered with admiration in their eyes.
And through the gaps between them, the elves and dwarves — and between the various tribes — were also locked in a contest of pride. Those who had lived apart and were now gathered together found the embers of division rising to the surface.
A single word was enough to draw swords, and the brush of a shoulder was enough to ignite a brawl. Soldiers carrying different cultures and customs had been thrown together in one place, and it was nothing short of utter chaos.
Predictably, the chain of command was murky and cohesion scraped the floor.
At this, Vice-captain Marik observed the state of the camp and offered a brief assessnt.
"What a spectacular ss."
Veteran rcenary Gregor clicked in quick response.
"Hahaha, 2,000 new Mountain Rabbits! At this rate there won't be a mountain or field left standing!"
No one else responded, however. The Mountain Rabbits did not bristle at the words that subtly mocked them.
They simply watched.
"If we march out to the battlefield like this…… Everyone's going to get killed."
"You think so too?"
"……Mm."
Calix sat on a rock and surveyed the scene from above, then turned his head and sent a sharp glance across the distance. Soon, a gaze from beyond the disorderly camp t his.
It was Serylion Belrnar — the elven commander representing the Viale allied forces.
They were too far apart to exchange a single word, but it was enough to convey aning.
"Captain."
"Calix."
"I think it's ti to sort things out."
The permission ca imdiately, and Calix slipped out from among the Mountain Rabbits and walked forward in silence. That single stride pierced through the heart of the swaying camp.
From the opposite side, elven adjutant Welvas stepped forward. The mont the two shadows stood facing each other, the clamor subsided and stillness descended.
***
Royce stood among the Mountain Rabbits and watched the center of the camp. The chaos and disorder were slowly settling, with a single current running through the middle.
Calix.
As he watched that figure ahead of a sparring match, exchanging courteous greetings, a scene from the council chamber suddenly surfaced in his mind.
A hall where countless powerful figures sat arrayed.
Unwavering criticism had poured in. Forceful voices tangled with high-handed stares and swung like invisible blades.
And yet, throughout it all, the young man had not once bowed his head. Instead, he t each gaze head-on and replied in a voice that did not bend.
'I would be lying if I said I was not afraid. I, too, fear that this may be a foolish choice. But this fear is the fear that belongs to all of us, and I have decided to carry it forward.'
At those words, the air in the council chamber had changed.
And at this very mont, Calix stepped forward once again.
No one had forced him to. Entirely of his own will, he drove his head straight into sothing complicated and grueling.
"Captain."
Just then, Vice-captain Marik spoke from beside him.
"Is sothing the matter? Your expression doesn't look well."
Royce was quiet for a mont before speaking quietly.
"No. There's no problem — but there is sothing weighing on ."
"Would that happen to be about Calix?"
"It is. That young man……"
His words trailed off, while his gaze remained fixed on Calix. Within his heart, a single question repeated itself — one he had, in truth, been turning over since so ti ago.
'What is it that drives you to lead?'
For the first ti, he felt as though he knew the answer.
"He has the makings of a king."
Marik's eyes widened to their absolute limits.
"……Those are frightening words."
"They are, yes. Words that must not be spoken carelessly."
But they were true.
It was the only answer.
King's ttle did not simply an a person who walked forward of their own accord.
It described one whose gaze you found yourself seeking without thinking when darkness deepened and the road disappeared. One you found yourself following without knowing why, needing no reason attached. One who was the first to walk the thorned path when all others trembled with fear and ca to a halt.
Such a being resided within Royce's care.
At that mont, a roar of cheers erupted from within the camp.
"Yeaaaaah——!"
An elven man was on one knee, his expression filled with astonishnt. Against soone of similar or lesser caliber, there was no beating Calix. The more experience accumulated and skill grew, the more stark the gap beca.
Above all, the master sword Srna did not permit long contests. The adjutant's blade had been half-severed, nicked all along its edge, and rendered entirely useless.
And so the match was decided in the blink of an eye.
The sa held true afterward.
Calix turned away no challenge. A dwarf from the Cardhun Tribe went rolling across the ground, and an elf from Wesaria took the sword's poml to the chin and crumpled on the spot.
The consecutive bouts ended just as briefly and swiftly, and Viale's warriors clapped and cheered with delight. The dwarves openly mocked the elves, and the elves laughed at the dwarves. It went beyond re pride between races — they taunted rival tribes and laughed together.
"To be that strong! Now that's worth believing in!"
"The rumors were real!"
"I'm next!"
As feelings layered over years burst forth, at so point they found themselves switching sides, cheering together as one. What had been divided was, for a fleeting mont, joined into one.
But Royce did not react to it. Rather, with a stiller heart than before, he watched the cheers fill the camp.
'Those with the makings of a king are always alone.'
They are the ones who lead the charge. They must be the first to be stained with blood, and must endure the risk of collapse for the sake of those who follow.
And in precisely that place, Calix stood.
Silently, naturally, as though it were simply where he was ant to be.
It was unmistakably — worry.
"That's why I call him 'Cook Comrade', you know."
Just then, an all-too-familiar voice drifted over.
It was Gregor.
The old man sat on his shield, tilting himself side to side as he continued.
"You've got to eat a poisonous mushroom at least once to build up a rich set of experiences. Of course, so'll get sick from it — but you can't learn without eating it. In the end, that's how you beco a master."
Royce turned to look at Calix once more. By now, dwarves and elves had surrounded him entirely, making it hard to see.
"……It will be a difficult road."
"Worrying about it is only natural. But if you believe in him, that's enough. Isn't it?"
At that, a small laugh finally broke loose. Like a breath barely let out, the feeling of concern slipped out from inside his chest.
"Indeed it is."
The road he walked would never be easy. Thorns would line the path, wind would blow, and the way ahead would be hard to see. Even so, it didn't matter.
"Because none of us are alone."
That fact — was everything.
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