Awakening the Great Chapter 62

Chapter 62: The Weight of The Heart

The wind still carried a cold edge, but the forest had already begun to breathe with the first whispers of spring. Tender new buds pushed up from the tips of branches, and from the dry earth rose the thick, rich scent of soil. A skylark that had survived the winter sang out, and the intermittent stirring of animals stretching themselves awake drifted through the air.

In the early dawn, the world was still half-asleep.

Thud, thud.

Calix walked in silence. The journey northward had been relentless, leaving no room for quiet reflection — this mont was all he had.

Clank.

The scabbard at his hip urged him to draw his blade, but he did not take a fighting stance. He simply moved as though out for a stroll, stepping through the gaps between trees, pressing his feet to the ground.

The sensation traveling up through his soles was vivid and precise. He could feel it all — the faint chill locked in the earth, the damp give of moss, the retreating footsteps of a creature that had sensed his presence.

Shhhk—

Then, without warning, he drew his sword in a single light motion. There was almost no sound of friction. The blade slipped free smoothly, drifting between one current of air and the next. Nearby branches trembled finely, and droplets of dew clinging to leaves scattered into the air.

The forest did not cry out. If anything, the opposite. As though intrigued by the sight of a single blade playing with the wind, an ancient tree that had absorbed ages of ti shook its boughs as if to say it had enjoyed the show. In return, it sent several leaves drifting toward him.

Whoooosh.

Toward where Calix's energy flowed, in accordance with his will, the remnants of nature gathered around his sword. A quiet response without a single word spoken. Nothing had been forcibly drawn out, and nothing had been dominated or trespassed upon.

'It might be because of the bloodline ability. The new attribute was…… Nature Attunent, wasn't it.'

He could not yet tell what use it would be. But he had a feeling this sensation would lead sowhere.

And sure enough — the mont he sheathed the sword, suspicion turned to certainty. As he stood still, leaves, sunlight, and grains of sand carrying the energy of the earth drifted toward him on their own and circled close.

At the sa ti, this was proof that Calix had executed Wind's Scar masterfully. There had been no waste of power. The blade carried within its stillness a ferocious edge. He could not say he had given everything — but it was a near-perfect display.

On the other hand—

Whoooooosh!

A mory from several weeks ago blazed vividly to life in his mind. That day, he had poured his energy to the brim and incinerated everything that stood in his path. A truly violent, rciless force. But Calix knew. It had been overwhelming — yet it was far from complete.

The fla had burned too hot. It had lted not only his enemies but his own blade as well, and left behind nothing but a chaotic ss.

'That was not Falling Fire.'

Watching the warmth of a spring day cling so peacefully to the tip of his blade, Falling Fire felt stranger and more foreign to him than ever.

Yes. That had been nothing more than a montary loss of control. He had failed to properly wield the fla he carried within him. As much as he hated to admit it…… He still did.

Calix slowly slid the sword back into its scabbard. The clean clank as the blade locked into place sounded almost like soone answering him.

That he may have taken in the fallen leaves, but Falling Fire had yet to acknowledge him. That he could swing a sword, yet was not at a level where he could save even a single child.

He let out a low, quiet scoff.

* * *

Despite his inner turmoil, the journey pressed on without pause. The Mountain Rabbits made their way onto a steep mountain path. Just one more peak to cross and they would reach the Elvra Holy Empire. It was then that Gregor, who had been walking ahead, turned his head slowly.

"You don't look well this morning, Cook Comrade. Didn't the ditation help?"

Calix answered with a bitter smile. The sun was already high overhead, so it was hardly morning — but that last remark had struck squarely at the mark.

"No, I didn't make much progress."

"And the Rock Sword — that didn't help either?"

The veteran rcenary brought up the sword technique he had recently passed on.

The Rock Sword was a na given by the old man who had lost his mories. Its proper na was the Anthem of the Fall. Divided into five chapters in total, it was a sword style that focused primarily on using weight and montum.

Breath of the Falling Stone, Single Strike of Wall-Breaking, Whirling Charge, Shackles of Falling Debris, and finally Collapse. A Niborian heavy sword style that compresses force and uses it to overwhelm the opponent.

"My movents have improved. The power behind them has definitely increased too. I've gained a great deal."

"And yet?"

"……That was all."

There was no escaping the keen eye of an experienced rcenary. Calix clicked his tongue inwardly. His bloodline ability from Ashapel had developed, thanks to it — but he had not seized what he truly sought.

"Falling Fire is still…… Out of reach."

At that, Gregor — who had been listening in silence all this while — let out a hearty laugh.

"I knew it!"

"Pardon?"

"That sword is heavy. It's strong, but far too narrow. It's not the right way for you."

Calix t the other man's gaze. Before he continued, Gregor stopped walking and pulled on the helt he had taken from an Imperial soldier.

He seed unwilling to let anyone see his serious expression.

"A sword like a rock. It's about holding your center firm and crushing the opponent with compressed force. I taught it to you because you kept asking to learn how to wield power. But we need to see further than that. It's not about fixating on technique — what's needed is belief in yourself."

"Belief…… Do you an sothing like conviction?"

"Exactly! Didn't Kriya's wife advance all at once at so point? Different fields, sa destination — all roads lead to one place. It's the sa with Falling Fire. It's not a matter of output or speed from the neural accelerator, or the amount of energy. There has to be will in it."

At that, the vision of that early morning scene suddenly surfaced in his mind. The wind had followed him. But the fla…… Had turned away.

Why?

Because there had been no will?

Right on cue, Gregor's counsel continued.

"No matter who you are, what past you carry, what abilities you possess — none of it matters. Because what truly matters is only one thing in the end."

"What is that?"

"Heart. If you don't put that into it…… neither the sword, nor the fla, nor anything else will follow."

"Heart……"

"When you get down to it, isn't a sword just a length of iron rod, barely as long as your arm? Then what is it you're putting into it when you swing it? Is it to protect sothing? Or is it because you want to destroy? Or do you carry so particular conviction in it?"

"……"

"What is it you want to do with Falling Fire?"

His mouth opened and closed, but he could not bring himself to speak the words. The desire to grow stronger went without saying — but for so reason it felt like a feeble excuse, and so it did. Just like that, the voice rolling around inside his lips dissolved away without a sound.

"If you yourself cannot answer, how would a re scrap of iron?"

"……"

Gregor asked nothing more. He knew this was the mont for Calix to look inward on his own.

And Calix, without realizing it, had already arrived at that threshold.

* * *

Crossing over the mountain range. While the newer recruits were gasping with breath caught in their throats, unable to keep their heads clear, the veterans walked at an easy pace and traded idle conversation.

The subject of that conversation was Calix.

"These days you need heart in a sword too? Back in the old days you just swung it hard and that was that."

"Gregor guaranteed he's touching the level of Falling Fire. That's why he cut down that Centurion so easily. Tis have changed, you fool."

"Falling Fire…… It certainly wasn't an ordinary neural accelerator."

"Please, we've known that since long before. We just didn't say it out loud."

Their eyes drifted naturally toward Calix's back as he walked ahead. Sowhere along the way, not a single person had called him 'greenhorn' anymore.

"I an…… It feels like just yesterday he joined us, and already he's so far ahead. He was a conscript, wasn't he?"

"Ah, fortune favors heroes and great n, they say. He must've had a high-performance neural accelerator implanted. Even the Prince of Latia and the mage were sending him sidelong glances."

"True. Either way, it works out for us. Our combat strength has gone up, hasn't it? And we've got a good reason to skip the war — let's make a na for ourselves on the Elvra Holy Empire side. It'll be better for taking commissions than the Astria Kingdom, mired in war as it is."

The steps climbing the mountain path were heavy, but the mood was light enough. Woven through the banter was a mixture of acknowledgnt and expectation directed at Calix.

At that, veteran rcenary Hagen, standing a little apart from the rest, murmured as he gazed out beyond the ridge.

"……He was crawling along the ground back in that territory battle."

His tone was unhurried, but beneath it lay a sharp edge and a faint tinge of bitterness.

"What, Hagen — are you jealous too?"

"……Losers are the ones who get jealous. He even helped

out back in Storm Forest — how shaful would it be to hold a grudge over that? Wouldn't it?"

He did not smile at his companion's question. He simply shrugged and answered. Outwardly composed. But his eyes alone — more than anyone else — were those of an ambitious man who had already accepted the change and was calculating his next move.

Ungcap and a few of the rcenaries who followed Hagen nodded along. His eyes said far more than any smile could.

The direction they all turned to look held the broad back of Vice-Captain Marik.

Thud, thud.

anwhile, Volga trailed at the very back of the group, moving his feet in silence. As he climbed the steep mountain path, the voices of the veterans murmured at the edge of his hearing. Hagen was laughing roughly, as though he had never wavered at all.

But Volga did not laugh.

He could not laugh.

His gaze had been fixed on one person all along.

Calix — a dear friend, a companion through the battlefield.

At first, he had thought they were not so different from each other. Conscripts dragged into service. But now Calix was walking so far ahead that it was hard to keep up.

It was not simply about Falling Fire.

The trouble had started with Gregor's advice. He had been eavesdropping on those lessons for a while and benefiting from them — but this ti was different.

Put your heart into the sword? What kind of nonsense was that?

Put your heart into an iron club and swing it…… And what, you'd get so kind of heart-club? No matter how hard he turned it over in his mind, all that surfaced was the mory of his father's hands, beating him like a dog in their village when he was small.

'Perhaps we can no longer share the sa opinions about swordsmanship.'

This was a serious problem.

Strength could differ and two people could still be friends. But when the thing they had shared and talked about disappeared, the relationship itself began to shake. Volga thought back to the mont his father had lost his way. The farr who had once been obsessed with a small patch of land turned his attention to the woman next door, and from that, the family had fallen apart.

To his mind, the current situation was not so different.

Volga raised his right hand and brought it to the back of his neck. Through his fingers ca the cold feel of tal. The neural accelerator that had saved his life more than once. But it was clearly worn out, and its response ti had fallen behind.

'I have to…… Change too.'

Just then, as they crested the ridge, a faint streak of light ca into the Mountain Rabbits' view.

At first it looked like a wall, but it was in fact a border checkpoint.

A double-arch gatehouse built of white stone drew every pair of eyes at once. There was no unnecessary ornantation, but each curve held a restrained beauty.

A place where the wealth of a nation, its military power, and its political strength had all been focused into a single point of faith. The Elvra Holy Empire. Even the outer regions were worlds apart from the desolate and crumbling border of the Astria Kingdom.

But Volga's eyes were still fixed on Calix.

His friend was walking far ahead, out there in the distance.

And yet—

"Wait for , Calix. I'll catch up sohow, soon."

Eyes that had been set hard for so long found their light again. Silently, he raised his head and drew a long, heavy breath. He could not afford to fall further behind.

Dong, dong, dong, dong—

At that very mont, the sound of a bell rang out from the border checkpoint. It was the signal announcing the approach of outsiders. Against the backdrop of blue banners bearing the crest of light, the silhouettes of soldiers moving briskly ca into view.

At last, they had arrived at the gates of the Elvra Holy Empire.