Rising god-Chapter 142 - 7th Division: First Mission

Baines’ brutal display at the Red Sun’s training ground echoed through the 7th Division, earning him a silent welcome as the fifth chair, and honestly, he preferred it that way.

The castle was a fortress of rune-etched stones. Each castle had its necessities, rooms, library, cooks for their meals, training field, meeting room, and even a blacksmith to attend to their weapons and other necessities.

Before Baines entered the castle, the belongings of Wills Lindell had already been taken out, albeit gently. After all, his family was still from a three-star clan.

In the lounge room of the castle, division members eyed him curiously, expecting an introduction at the very least. A burly man laughed heartily, draping an arm over Baines’ shoulder. "You were really something out there! Truth is, no one liked that guy—"

"Get your hands off me." Baines’ energy flared, a ripple of cutting mana repelling the man, who stumbled back, shocked. He was the third chair, meaning he was stronger than Wills, but it seemed like Baines was stronger than he.

"Call me when there’s a mission," Baines said, his voice carrying to all. The higher chairs watched in silence, their eyes wary. He didn’t glance at any of them and vanished into his quarters.

That was the last time he was seen that week.

The following week, the division gathered in the meeting room, a circular chamber with a hundred chairs arranged in tiers, five elevated at the front for the first five chairs in ranking. Runes were drawn on the walls that glowed faintly, amplifying their voices.

Rakel Voss, the first chair and leader, stood tall, his crimson armor gleaming, his presence commanding as he explained. "Our scouts recently detected signs of the Iron Brotherhood. This time, it seems it’s a branch," As he explained, details of the mission were passed around.

"They were found around the blightroot clan’s territory. Our mission is to end that branch at all costs." He finished and gave time for others to read through the mission.

The Iron Brotherhood, also called the Adamant Order, was a troublesome group that claimed to serve Krazgar, the war god, and for that cause, igniting battles to "cleanse" the tainted world, and that the world needed justice.

They were largely known for their armor fused into their flesh, making them immune to mental influence and torture.

Normally, they would’ve let them be; however, for the empire, it was a crucial and dangerous situation they were in, and they couldn’t have another threat in their land.

And for the Blightroot Clan, this had to be the biggest coincidence of all time. They were a clan in the empire that had accumulated just one sun, not for their military might, but for their products that made people look younger.

There was no better technique for that than the aging reversal. Baines had finally found the clan that created the technique, the aging reversal technique.

’The strongest in the clan, Gilbert Blight, 6th star.’ He shook his head in disappointment. Why won’t they sell such a technique when the strongest was still a master?

"We are moving in disguises as farmers for the blightroot clan. We can’t be discovered by any means, and we move at dawn."

The meeting ended, and preparations began.

The division members all donned ragged clothes and wore treasures that suppressed their auras to nothingness. Some applied makeup, smudging dirt to dull their features, transforming into unassuming farmers.

Outside, five wooden carts waited, manned by coachmen whose eyes betrayed Red Sun training. These were the carts to take them to the blightroot clan.

They got on and rode silently for two days, with the members acting accordingly. Everyone acted their role; there was no less, everyone was decent, brilliant in their own way, and it even surprised Baines.

Was this what an elite team meant?

Finally, they arrived in the blightroot clan territory

The Blightroot Clan’s territory was small, its security weaker, and its territory smaller than Darkan’s, but its obsession with appearance was striking. This family cared more about their outer appearance than their abilities.

Just mere gate soldiers wore ornate red-and-gold uniforms, wielding fanciful weapons, while their strongest was a mere fourth-star knight.

As the coachmen delivered the papers to their leader, they were immediately directed to the main estate, where another grand layout was. The clan’s estate sparkled with polished marble and gilded arches, its people draped in silks, their faces unnaturally youthful.

Naturally, the "farmers" were met with scorn.

"Who let these scourges in?"

"Hehe, they have to class at all."

Even servants looked down on them

At that point, it felt so insulting to the red sun, they even deserved more luxury than these fakes, but at the same time, it was perfect. That meant almost no one was aware of their presence.

Then, a neat, elderly butler approached, his robes pristine. "The master will see your leader," he said.

Rakel followed, returning minutes later.

"We are going to work south of the territory where they lost some farmers due to the recent storm," Rakel explained it that way, and they made their way towards the south. They traveled another hour to a desolate plain, its fields barren, and the farmhouses crumbled.

Beyond lay a deep forest, which was where the Brotherhood’s hideout was.

"Let’s go," Rakel whispered.

Without releasing their auras or mana, they slipped into the forest, their steps silent on mossy ground. Thirty minutes in, they spotted a crude tower, its stone blackened, serving as a guard post.

Around a flickering fire, fifteen Brotherhood members ate, their armor glinting like molten steel fused to their skin. Five patrolled, their eyes sharp, while two watched from the tower.

"Thirty total," Rakel murmured. "Kill fast, and we move to the branch." He counted down: Three, two, one. Go.

Ten members nocked arrows, their tips infused with concentrated aura, and loosed them.

The tower guards fell silently, arrows piercing their hearts. The patrolling five dropped, throats slit by unseen blades. The fifteen at the fire stirred, alerted by the thuds, but the division descended like shadows. Swords flashed, blood sprayed, and within seconds, the outpost was silenced; not a single Red Sun member was lost.

"Move quickly," Rakel urged.

The Brotherhood’s second lookout would be alerted soon, signaling the branch. Five minutes later, a distant horn blared—the second lookout had noticed.

The Iron Brotherhood was said to have two lookouts, and upon the event of the death of one of the lookouts, the second would be notified, likewise alerting the branch.

And it took five minutes for the second lookout to be aware of an intruder.

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