Chapter 112: The Red Land (2)


    Beyond the mountain range, the rednd never saw the sunset. However, with the decisive battle approaching, they couldnt afford not to sleep. Thus, the group decided to keep watch in shifts, starting with Glen, changing every two hours.


    Why dont you sleep a little more?


    30 minutes before changing shifts.


    Gazing at the campfire, Glen suddenly felt someone approaching.


    I cant sleep unless its in a bed. I just cant seem to fall asleep.


    Shiron sat opposite Glen and reached into his pocket, pulling out a liquor bottle.


    So, I thought Id drink instead.


    Thats an interesting joke.


    Its not a joke.


    Pong-


    Do you enjoy drinking?


    I dont turn down a drink when its offered.


    Then perhaps youd like a drink, Father.


    Unsure of how to address Glen, Shiron ced a cup filled with liquor in front of him.


    What kind of liquor is this?


    My uncle recognized it immediately.


    My brother doesnt show it, but he likes liquor.


    Its nothing special, just some liquor from the cer of Dawn Castle.


    Shiron poured liquor into his own cup. Glen felt surprised by the sudden turn of events involving drinking.


    Is he trying to seek courage from the liquor?


    Is there something you want to ask?


    Its been a while since we talked. I feel frustrated that we havent had any real conversation. Dont you want to have a heartfelt talk between father and son?


    I do.


    Shiron took a sip of whiskey, a sigh mixed with the effect of the liquor. He had a drink before bed as he couldnt sleep, and the effects were still there.


    But it wasnt a bad condition to be in. As Hugo said, asking when one might die was a burdensome topic, no matter how bold one might be.


    I havent heard it yet.


    Do you remember the letter?


    The letter?


    The letter I sent through Yuma. Was it 5 years ago or 6? Its been so long, you might not remember.


    Ah.


    Glen took out an old piece of paper from his pocket. It was the letter Shiron had sent six years ago through Yuma.


    Youve kept it all this time?


    Of course. Although its contents were brutal, it was the first letter you sent. Ive kept it as a talisman


    Thump-


    Shiron snatched the old letter from Glens hand and threw it into the campfire.


    It gives me the creeps, so Ill burn it right now. Its okay since its a gift from me, right?


    Uh


    So, you see. Ive spent a long time pondering philosophical questions like when will I die. Isnt it time to hear an answer from a prophet father? Yes, it hase to that.


    Shiron ignored Glens disappointed face.


    Its a bit too much to ask a father to predict when his son will die.


    Im a bit selfish.


    Is that so?


    Glen sighed deeply.


    Ive lifted many veils and peered into the future, but there was not a single glimpse of your future among them.


    Glen continued, looking up at the sky.


    I dont know either. Having the power of prophecy doesnt mean I know all futures, but for some reason, whenever I try to see, a murky veil obscures my vision.


    It was still the same.


    Despite his strong desire, every attempt to see Shirons future ended in a blurred vision.


    Shiron took out a watch from his pocket. There was still time left before the next shift.


    Lets talk about something else then.


    Shiron was very interested in the Apostle predicted by Glen.


    Which Apostle are we going to face? What does he look like? What weapon does he use?


    I dont know who the Apostle is. He didnt say his name. He looked like a knight in red armor, and his weapon was arge sword.


    How strong is he? Can we, who are still inexperienced, sufficiently fight against him?


    One cant know the strength until crossing swords.


    Then how many will face the Apostle? Surely not alone?


    Its better to join forces.


    It wasnt Glen who responded. With a slightly disheveled appearance, Yuma sat near the campfire and spoke. She was holding a bag in her hand again.


    Joining forces and doing our best against the Apostle would also look admirable.


    Wouldnt that make it difficult to determine superiority? If the title of family head is awarded to the one who delivers the final blow, then the person who inflicted the most damage loses out. Theing-of-age ceremony also yed a role in identifying the next family head, didnt it?


    That will be fine.


    Glen turned his gaze to a distant ce. The border between the mountain range and the rednd. Dozens of demons were watching this ce.


    Thats for them to judge.<hr>


    Meanwhile, there were girls eavesdropping on their conversation.


    Perhaps as a consideration for the girls in their sensitive age, thergest of the three tents was shared by Lucia and Siriel.


    Siriel whispered towards the ceiling.


    Lucia, are you asleep?


    No. How can I sleep with such a conversation going on?


    Lucias voice sounded a bit muffled.


    Due to the proximity of the campfire and the tent, their acute hearing unintentionally caught all of Shiron and Glens conversation.


    Me too. Just hearing talk about someone dying I cant sleep.


    Siriel responded nonchntly, but Shiron and Glens conversation was still swirling in her head.


    Lucia exhaled a foggy breath towards the ceiling.


    The Apostle is said to be extremely dangerous. Im not religious or superstitious by nature. But, seriously. Talking about death before a final battle, it feels like it might actually happen.


    Could you speak a little quieter?


    Right? Theyre so inconsiderate. Why do they keep saying things that make others worry?


    Lucia gripped the nket tightly, anxious.


    Like father, like son, neither Glen nor Shiron seemed to have any notion of restraint.<hr>


    At the entrance of the snow-covered mountain range. At the base of the expedition force organized under the Emperors orders.


    In thergest tent adorned with the g of the Sky Knights, a considerable number of people were gathered.


    Fortunately, there are no serious injuries.


    Cardinal Deviale, overseeing the health of the expedition force, said as he removed his hand from a tree-like arm.


    However, I rmend resting for a week. Even someone like you can suffer permanent damage to the body that cannot be healed by holy power due to continuous battles.


    Understood.


    Hugo nodded in response to Deviales diagnosis and then stood up to leave the tent.


    Without removing his armor.


    Sir Hugo. You need to rest.


    Deviale sighed, addressing a patient who was not fully aware of his own condition.


    Ill be back soon. Just need to sort some things out.


    Deviale watched Hugo leave the tent quietly.


    The expedition was reaching its climax, and Hugos rest would create a significant gap on the front lines. Thats why Deviale couldnt hold him back.


    How is themanders condition?


    Johan, Hugos deputy, asked this, and Deviale shook his head.


    To be frank, its not good. The upper body is fine, but the blood vessels leading from the lower body to the heart are getting narrower day by day. The concentration of mana in the blood is also thinning.


    So


    Yes, as you might have guessed, its due to aging and weakening.


    Deviale thought of the patches of red hair that had fallen out.


    Is Hugos eraing to an end?


    Being well aware of the reputation of the Empires greatest knight, Deviale refrained from voicing such ominous thoughts.


    But it was evident that Hugo was not the same as before.


    In Lucerne, Deviale was a clergyman with extensive expedition experience, and he had seen Hugos exploits up close many times.


    However, he couldnt see the Hugo of old in the one he saw today.


    Hugos injuries were not caused by the demonic beasts. He had dodged the beasts onught and in their massive bodies. But, seemingly exhausted, he failed to avoid a falling carcass. Just three years ago, Hugo would not have made such a careless mistake.


    Sir Johan also missed the appropriate time to retire from the front lines by a long stretch.


    Cardinal Deviale gazed at the wrinkled face of the old knight. Johan Urhaim, his hair and beard had all turned white. The sight of such an elderly man guarding the front lines was a stark contrast to the Empires image.


    It might not be my ce to say as an outsider, but its time for you to make a decision.


    Deviale decided to voice the thought he had been harboring.


    A decision?


    I rmend increasing the frequency of reorganization.


    But there are still many demonic beasts that are undealt with. Frequent absences from the front lines would create a significant gap in our forces.


    A week isnt too long for the body to recuperate. We can start with every other week.


    What about the soldiers who will die on the front lines in the meantime?


    Its inevitable for soldiers to die on the front lines.


    Deviale rubbed his dry eyes. He, too, felt profound fatigue due to the prolonged istion.


    Thats not the only issue.


    Deviale started packing his bag to move to the next location. Hugo was the most critical case, but many patients still needed attention at the base.


    We need to find a sessor to fill Sir Hugos absence.


    As a human being, Sir Hugo will continue to weaken. It might not be tomorrow, but if he keeps overexerting himself like this, he wont be able to wield a sword within a few years. Ahem. Hm.


    Deviale turned his back on the dazed old knight.


    It will be toote if we wait after Sir Hugo dies.