Awakening the Great Chapter 94

Chapter94: His Na

Pwooooo—

Beneath an overcast sky, a dwarf's horn let out a long, drawn-out wail before falling silent. Countless hooves beat against the earth, and banners representing each tribe rippled like waves.

The departure ceremony, held in the early hours of dawn, ended simply and quietly. There were no formal speeches, no crowds gathered to see them off. Instead, soldiers fell silently into line, each gripping their weapons as they exhaled heavy breaths.

And at the head of it all stood the Mountain Rabbits.

Calix stood at the very front, gazing far into the distance—beyond the fog. The breathing of Lunos, his warhorse, tickled his ears as the animal's hooves found their footing between dark moss and stone.

"The terrain has changed."

Hadiya's murmur turned his head. Half a day into the march, and already there was a problem.

"The Elvra Holy Empire gave us a map."

"They did, but it doesn't match what's in front of us."

"Then—"

"Then—"

"It wasn't made incorrectly. It's that the land itself has changed."

Co to think of it, sothing had been different since they'd entered the mountain range. Everything felt unfamiliar. The landscape looked similar enough, but everything else was off. The grain of the rocks, the flow of the wind, even the faint sll of the soil.

"Could the ground have warped?"

"More likely……"

The desert-born scout added quietly.

"Whatever was hidden has been revealed."

At those words, Airien, who had been following behind, flinched and glanced around.

After the mage Minebris had dismantled her barrier, remnants of the Collapse had been left scattered throughout the mountain range. Mana had scattered in every direction, twisting the flow of the air. Cold currents that had once blown in from the northwest now reversed, blowing southeast. In certain areas, the surface had warped, exposing boulders and tree roots above ground.

Most notably, the paths had changed.

The elven tribe—Silant—where the Mountain Rabbits had first arrived was listed on the map as being on the outskirts, but in reality it sat close to the heart of the mountain range. Naturally, the route leading outward had to change as well.

Just then, Basim humd a tune through his nose and spoke up.

"This might actually work out. We can stop by Heimrak on the way."

"Heimrak?"

"My hotown. A place crawling with all manner of worthless bastards. A city of idiots who settled down next to an underground lake. It's at the southern end, so it's not much of a detour."

Even as he spat out crude insults about his own people, he couldn't quite hide the look of quiet delight on his face.

But the lifted mood didn't last long.

Prrrr.

As they crested a hill, the horses suddenly snorted in unison. They flattened their ears back and struck the ground several tis with their front hooves.

"Whoa, what's gotten into them? Is sothing wrong?"

Viale's elite soldiers reacted fastest. A seasoned elf picked up a fallen leaf and brought it to his nose. Where there should have been only the scent of nature, a tainted residue lingered.

"It's the presence of the dead, sir."

The brow of the commanding officer, Serylion Belrnar, furrowed. To encounter a malevolent force before even escaping the mountain range—this only confird once again that the outsiders had been right all along.

That fact made it all the more unsettling.

"……Increase the scouting personnel. Change the marching formation to three columns. Do not let your guard down."

"Yes, sir."

Unease rippled through the soldiers, and mid-ranking officers issued curt orders to reestablish the formation. The sounds of hands adjusting sword grips and arrow fletching filled the air.

Yet the Mountain Rabbits wore expressions of almost complete calm.

"Has to be that bastard, doesn't it?"

"Why even ask when you already know the answer."

Calix said nothing, tightening his grip on the reins. Beyond the mountain range, within the fog, a faint tremor was perceptible. On the surface, nothing was there. Only moss-covered rocks and coniferous forest lay still in the silence.

But he knew.

He closed his eyes and looked with his Mind's Eye.

Beyond the wind, there was a presence. It was not a sudden threat. Rather, it was sothing that had grown familiar—sothing he had once deliberately called forth, once tried to shake off, and now stood at quite a considerable distance: a remnant of darkness.

The Draug.

Royce, the unit commander, seed to sense the sa thing, and asked quietly.

"Is it that one?"

"Yes."

"Do you think it poses a risk?"

The gazes of the Mountain Rabbits converged on Calix's face. He fell into thought for a mont, then slowly shook his head. The dense, dark coloration remained, but the force behind it had diminished.

By his estimation, it had spent a great deal of its power in the fight with Master Imran Akran.

The priestess Ella added her own assessnt.

"The further it moves from the Land of Shadows, the weaker its power will beco."

"Then for now it's no more than watching us from a distance."

At that, Basim's forceful snort blew the concern away entirely.

"Kheung, just watching? No different from a wildcat lurking in the hills behind the village!"

Laughter rippled through the group. A shadow had attached itself to them, yes—but they had confidence in themselves. There was nothing to worry about now.

If it had to be given a na, this would be called coexistence.

A strange companionship—where hostility and understanding were intertwined.

***

Southern mountain range, outskirts of Heimrak.

Silence settled over the camp pitched along the edge of the mines. A fierce wind licked its way across the roofless rocks, and only the faint breathing of the horses resting on the ground drifted through the air.

Airien woke to an unfamiliar sound. Footsteps. Heavy, steady footfalls. Even half-asleep, she recognized them imdiately. It was Basim.

She pushed aside her blanket and slowly rose. The gruff dwarf slipped out of camp, and the entire Mountain Rabbits followed quietly behind him. Silently, slowly—as though it had all been arranged long ago.

Since the morning fog had not yet lifted, the sight of them was hazy, yet sohow solemn.

‘Where are they going, when we're about to leave Viale's territory co daybreak?’

After a brief hesitation, Airien fell into step behind the procession.

Rather than heading into the mining town, Basim made his way toward the mountaintop. Strikingly, at the foot of the mountain, several dwarves were waiting for him.

mbers of the Heimrak tribe.

Their opening words, however, were far from a warm reunion.

"……Empty-handed again, are you, Basim. You've brought a good number of people, but nothing of substance. Does the child still wait for you?"

Basim said nothing in return. He simply lowered his head and walked past them.

"You've spent your life swimming in blood. You've left nothing behind. Nothing at all."

Silence again. The dwarves' stares were both cold and burning. Contempt and pity were knotted together within them. In the end, one of them exhaled a long breath and let out sothing that sounded like truth.

"You foolish man. Co ho. Bury your pain beneath the rocky mountain."

Still, Basim walked on without a word. The Mountain Rabbits followed quietly at his back. Airien watched the scene unfold, and a small crease ford between her brows.

Dwarves are honest, but they're rude.

That was all she thought at first. Harsh words, dark eyes, a torrent of abuse aid at a man who refused to answer. Yet Basim never grew angry. The humans traveling alongside him added no petty emotions of their own. In that silent procession, there was sothing—a quiet faith, a trust—that showed through.

So ti later, the procession halted midway up the mountain. There, where rocks and trees were awkwardly intertwined, stood a single small, rough-hewn grave.

Basim stepped forward, and quietly lowered himself to his knees before it.

The grain of the stone was carved through with calluses, and nail marks remained etched in between. In the gaps not yet fully dried, moss had not quite managed to take hold, and at the center, a single phrase had been carefully inscribed. No na had been carved.

Yet there was mory there, and love.

"Brock, my son."

His voice was rough, but low, and gentle.

"Indeed, this father of yours ca with nothing in hand. I promised to bring you a gift, and here I am with empty hands. But the promise I made to you—that one I have kept."

The strange words brought a flicker of puzzlent—before it passed.

"Sothing that could never be found in Viale. Sothing most wondrous and astonishing, sothing that has beco precious to

second only to you—I have brought it here."

The elven woman let out a soft, quiet breath.

Yes.

He had brought the Mountain Rabbits.

In that mont, Calix stepped forward. As if drawn by sothing, he walked out and placed his hand on the gravestone. Warm light spread gently outward around him.

It was Divinity.

Beneath the palm pressed against the stone, a clear, pure energy flowed softly downward. As mana infused with sorrow and tenderness spread outward, the vegetation around the grave stirred—lifting their heads with a faint, green shimr.

Thud.

In the sa instant, Gregor set down his shield. On the battlefield and off, it was a treasure he had never once discarded. Royce and Marik took out the banner of the Mountain Rabbits and spread it across the ground. Volga produced from his belt the repair tools he'd guarded like his own life—sothing his master, Basim, had given him.

Hadiya held out a small figure she had made by weaving wild grass together.

"It was my little sibling's favorite. It won't last long…… But please take the thought."

Zahira drew out a set of arrow fletching in many colors.

"Of everything I own, this is the quietest, sharpest, and finest feather. It's sothing from the Kalahim Desert. It's worth a little pride, I'd say."

Finally, Ella closed her eyes and recited a prayer. It was a short hymn. A small, composed voice calling for light and rest. When the prayer ended, the air around them had filled with a warmth that hadn't been there before.

Airien watched all of it.

At first she was rely a bystander. Unfamiliar dwarves' words, the silent Mountain Rabbits. But at so point, she realized her own two hands had co together. No one had asked it of her, yet her body had already lowered itself quietly to its knees in the sa posture as the rest.

So this is what it ans to not be alone.

To stand together was to be willing to kneel for the sake of a companion. She had co to understand the Mountain Rabbits, if only a little.

They were the ones who would willingly follow—for the sake of one.

Where one who had departed once stood, the living quietly left their farewells. It was not a morial for a young dwarf. It was a promise for what was to co.

And now it was ti to depart—to prepare the second gift.

Just then, an old man's eyes could be seen trembling without restraint. The veteran rcenary Gregor cleared his throat and quietly—discreetly—picked up the shield he'd set on the ground.

"Ah, even so, a shield is a precious thing."

"……"

"Commander friend, this is far too unfair! You should have said from the start that it was a gift!"

And that was their last mory of Viale.

***

Near the southern border of Viale.

The season had turned. The height of sumr; the sun-beaten earth had already cracked and hardened. The fog and moss of the north, the silence of the highland forests—all of it had been left behind. This was a place ruled by heat, dust, and fire-scorched rock.

And right at the head of the column, a fierce argunt was well underway.

"I'm telling you, the Rockboar is the greatest. The charging force to push straight up a steep incline! The courage to keep going even with spear points right in front of it! When it cos to representing Viale, nothing beats the Rockboar!"

As Basim shouted with great gusto, Airien shook her head with a composed expression.

"But they can't sustain a fight for long. And courage can beco recklessness in an instant."

"Recklessness, you say!"

Just as he was about to retort—

She struck him right where it hurt.

"Are you not familiar with the Battle of Toria? Because they charged ahead even with a cliff right in front of them, three hundred dwarf cavalry died without even getting the chance to fight."

The dwarf's face went as red as if it were about to burst.

"That was! That was……. You little—! You have quite the vicious tongue on you!"

"And you are quite uncouth."

"Kraaaaa!"

With a clean sweep for the elven side, the soldiers standing behind them burst into snickering laughter. What had started as an awkward dynamic was gradually changing into sothing natural. Just as Airien was narrowing the distance through her bickering with the dwarf, Viale's soldiers, too, were slowly being woven together with the Mountain Rabbits through shared training.

Calix, watching the scene, exhaled softly. This was not a bad sign. If anything, this kind of current needed to be allowed to grow before they ever reached the front lines.

Only the scale had changed from before. The thod of handling newcors remained exactly the sa.

"Open plains ahead!"

At that mont, Hadiya's shout brought them gradually to a slower pace. The ravine that had wound down from the mountain range spread open wide, and the southern plains revealed themselves. This was the southern edge of Viale—and at the sa ti, the border region with Kalahim.

"The air is different."

Ella's words were accurate. The wind was genuinely dry, and the sunlight no longer carried any warmth. It stung like a slap to the cheek, and the wind carried a rawness to it, as though it had picked up the sll of blood sowhere along the way.

That was when it happened.

Beyond a cloud of dust, a strange tremor rolled outward. The sound of tens of thousands of hooves. But it was utterly unlike anything they had heard in the north. The rhythm, the weight, the way it rolled across the ground—all of it was different.

The Mountain Rabbits were the first to react. Calix took in the thousands of colors filling his field of vision, while Hadiya removed her helm and draped it over her shoulder. Her brow was deeply furrowed.

"It's Kalahim."

They had arrived.

Through the yellow-brown dust, three thousand cavalry bore down upon them with overwhelming force. Not a single one of the fad cal riders could be seen—only warhorses, every one of them. Then ca soldiers clad in thin, flexible leather plate, moving in long, ordered lines.

True to their nature as desert warriors, their blades were narrow and long, curving like a crescent, and their armor shook with bell ornants and trailing feathers. White cloth draped over their shoulders, tribal tattoos and ornants layered across their bodies—all of it carried the thick, unmistakable scent of the battlefield.

"Impressive! Though as wild-looking as ever!"

Gregor muttered. There was no exaggeration in his words. The impression they left was entirely unlike the dwarf or elven forces of the north. Rather than technique or discipline, it was the feeling of sothing that crushed through with overwhelming force and montum. Moving as one in a single direction, yet each blazing their own path.

‘Like desert beasts co to devour the battlefield.’

And soon, as both armies drew close to one another, a young warrior burst through the haze of sand and roared at the top of his lungs.

"Kalaq! Salli'h Kallikus!"

An unfamiliar language. A short but fierce cry—booming lung capacity tangled with rough, raw delivery. The problem was that no one could understand a word of it.

"……Is he bursting to relieve himself? What's gotten into him?"

"No idea. Looks absolutely furious. Is he picking a fight?"

But those among the Mountain Rabbits who had been there since the earliest days recognized the words, and wore peculiar expressions.

"Calix."

Zahira stepped forward as the one best suited to speak.

"He's calling your na."

"……Mine?"

"Yes. It seems he wants an honorable duel."

It was exactly that.

‘Who is Calix.’

At those words, every gaze shifted to the man in question.

Zahira quickly added an explanation.

"You don't have to face him if you'd rather not. Everything living in that desert is a thick-skulled idiot obsessed with fighting. That one doesn't represent Kalahim. He's likely soone who just bolted out on his own."

Calix raised his head without a word.

His eyes fixed precisely on the man beyond the dust. A helm stained with blood, black ornants, sharp-cut muscle, skin flushed deep beneath the sun. The gaze was not one of goodwill—but neither was it one openly expressing hostility.

Simply put, he wanted to test him.

"Salli'h Kallikus!"

The desert warrior placed his hand on his scabbard and let out another roar. His Neural Accelerator was violet-hued. There was no need to cross blades to weigh the difference—the thought that he might lose simply did not arise.

In that case, should he fight?

Thud! Thud thud.

But before a decision could be made, his horse responded first. Lunos—now grown dense with muscle and flesh, a fine warhorse in every sense—was striking the ground hard beneath him.

Prrrr.

The loyal warhorse was ready to fight at any mont.

Just then, the wind stilled. With sand and dust brushing against everything in all directions, even the breathing of the soldiers on both sides grew quiet.

Silence.

The sword had not yet been drawn.