"Come on, come on, Young Master Muen, this way."

Donick was extremely enthusiastic. After entering through the gate, he grabbed Muen and tried to lead him toward a staircase by the wall.

"From this side, we’ll be there soon—"

"Wait."

Muen suddenly stopped.

He lifted his head and looked at that staircase.

The steps led to the top of the wall. There, soldiers—though their armor was still stained with pitch-black blood—stood in ranks by the battlements, full of presence. They held their heads high, chests out, their bearing solemn, as if waiting eagerly for Muen’s inspection.

And after passing through those soldiers who looked so spirited, following a broad suspension bridge would let you cross the second and third rings of wall and enter the fortress’s interior.

This route was basically walking along the highest point of the entire fortress—enough to overlook the whole towering structure and fully feel the weight of history time had pressed into this place.

If you were only here to sightsee, to enjoy a famous landmark, then that road was undoubtedly the best one. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

But...

"I’m taking the lower way."

Muen suddenly pointed ahead.

After coming in through the gate, down here at the bottom, there was also a suspension bridge crossing that deeply excavated trench and entering the second ring of wall.

Only, from here you couldn’t see any scenery at all. You could only see the corpses in the trench that hadn’t been buried in time, and the bloodstains on the mottled stone walls that still hadn’t dried.

"Th-this... isn’t that a bit..."

Donick looked conflicted. "Young Master, you’re a guest who came from far away. How can I let you walk through a place like that?"

"A guest? Who told you I’m a guest? I came to take part in this war, not to tour."

Without paying him any mind, Muen stepped straight onto the lower suspension bridge.

The sturdy bridge swayed slightly, like it had been trampled by countless running feet. As Muen walked across it, his gaze swept unconsciously over the bodies in that deep pit.

There were demonfolk, and there were humans.

In a fortress like this, there was definitely no room to bury soldiers one by one, so most of the fallen were simply thrown down here.

And one day, if the demonfolk truly broke through the first wall, then these bodies would be set on fire—using what remained of their flesh and blood to forge a new barrier, the final barrier.

"It really is... a frightening scene."

Muen murmured softly.

He could feel the aura of magic power—probably magic had been used to prevent the corpses from rotting, to keep plague from brewing and spreading. But even so, this sight alone was already enough to shock you.

"...Sigh, Young Master, you—"

Hearing that, Donick also let out a light sigh. But he wasn’t sighing at this scene he’d long since become used to seeing—he was secretly annoyed that after two years, this Young Master Muen had become so lacking in sense.

Up above, at least you could see the scenery of the Abyss’s vast wilderness. But down here, what was there to see?

"Young Master Muen, I’ve also heard about some of your recent changes, but your uncle has to say something from the heart—this lower path isn’t something a pampered noble young master like you, raised tenderly since childhood and never even having seen blood, can—"

"Alright, Uncle Donick."

Muen cut him off, turning back with a smile. "Relax. I’m not a kid anymore."

Even if it really was his first time on a battlefield, he wouldn’t be so easily frightened by a scene like this anymore.

Battlefields were cruel and terrifying, but as far as making you lose SAN went, Muen still felt Evil God-chan had the edge.

"Heh. Listen to you. In your uncle’s eyes, you’ll always be a kid who never grows up—"

"Let’s go."

Once again ignoring Donick’s sighing and lamenting, Muen continued forward.

Donick had no choice but to hurry after him.

...

After crossing the suspension bridge, there was another arched gate.

Only, as the entrance to the second wall, as long as the first wall hadn’t been breached, there was no need to close it.

So with a single glance, Muen could see the deep darkness beyond the gate, and he could feel that sharp, overflowing stench.

Under Donick’s stunned gaze, without any pause, without even a change in expression, Muen walked in.

The light dimmed abruptly.

Beneath the wall, this seemed like a very wide space, but only two or three candles flickered.

Yet just those few flickering candles illuminated faces—faces twisted in pain, sunk in sorrow, or numb beyond feeling.

They were wounded soldiers—so many that for a moment Muen couldn’t even tell whether it was hundreds or over a thousand.

They were crammed in here. The severely wounded lay on crude bed frames, while the lightly wounded... or rather, if losing a hand or a foot could still be called “light,” they could only squeeze into corners along the wall.

Volunteer nuns from the Church, medical troops from the army, accompanying mages who knew healing magic—all of them were weaving back and forth through the narrow lanes, their busy footsteps drowned out by cries of pain.

It was clearly a spacious place, yet at this moment it felt suffocatingly cramped.

And that stench was precisely what rose from those wounded soldiers—blood, rot, medicinal herbs all mixed together, nauseating.

"Are all the wounded... in here?" Muen’s gaze flickered as he asked softly.

"Heh, how could that be?"

Donick scratched his head—though with his helmet on, he could only scratch the helmet.

"There’s only a bit over a thousand wounded here. The rest are scattered in different places. Even Doronslei Fortress can’t directly hold this many wounded in one spot."

"About how many wounded are there right now?" Muen asked again.

"Uh..."

"Tell the truth. Even if you don’t tell me, I have ways to find out."

"...Right now, it’s around thirty thousand wounded."

"Thirty thousand? Out of one hundred thousand, there are already a full thirty thousand wounded?"

"No."

Donick answered, "Out of seventy thousand, there are already a full thirty thousand wounded. Of course, those minor wounds that don’t affect movement—we generally don’t count those."

"...Is that so?"

Muen lowered his lashes and fell silent.

Three in ten dead, nearly half wounded—already an appalling casualty ratio that was enough to break an army.

This number was worse than he’d expected. Maybe this was why even Celicia couldn’t stay calm. Under the demonfolk’s sudden tightening fist and savage assault, this Imperial border truly had been pushed to the edge of collapse.

"Heh, don’t worry."

At this moment, Donick instead gave Muen’s shoulder a hearty slap.

"Most of our losses came from that earlier abnormal change anyway. Whether it’s one hundred thousand elites or seventy thousand elites, there’s not much difference. With this fortress here, there’s nothing to fear. And there are still logistics people in the city, militia and the like—when it really comes down to it, they can also grip a blade and get on the battlefield. With those demonfolk bastards, it won’t be so easy to knock us down!"

"Is that so... But seeing this, I actually kind of wish I really still were the child you think I am, Uncle Donick."

Muen suddenly said it.

"What do you mean?" Donick looked completely confused.

"Nothing."

Muen shook his head.

Because if he were just a child, then he could comfortably believe a lie like that.

"Take this."

Muen handed Donick a ring.

"What is this?"

"My spatial magic tool. Inside are all kinds of healing-magic scrolls and all kinds of medicinal materials I collected in Belrand before I left. Celicia still needs some time to coordinate and mobilize supplies—use this to get by first... even though I know that with just this, it’s nothing but a cup of water on a cart of firewood."

"Hey, don’t talk about cups of water and carts of firewood—having something is already great!"

Hearing the words “healing-magic scrolls” and “medicinal materials,” Donick’s eyes lit up.

"Compared to weapons, this is what we’re truly short on here. You don’t know—just to save medicinal materials for the wounded, even your father—"

Realizing he’d misspoken, Donick quickly clapped a hand over his mouth.

"It’s fine. I can pretty much guess what Father would do."

Muen let out a calm sigh.

"That’s why I’d rather destroy those precious magic-conducting materials than make room for them."

"Magic-conducting materials?"

"Nothing. Just talking to myself."

Muen added, "Also, there are Church Holy Light items in there. Use them sparingly."

"Holy Light items!"

This time, Donick wasn’t just glowing in the eyes—he was practically glowing green. He probed through the storage magic tool, and very quickly fished out a small goddess statue.

"Tsk, tsk. You’ve even got something like this. I’ve been fighting wars for so many years and I still haven’t—"

Looking at that exquisite goddess statue wreathed in a soft Holy Light, Donick clicked his tongue in amazement, and that thick palm was about to reach toward the statue—

Only for it to suddenly be seized tightly by a strong hand.

Muen had come over at some point. Staring straight into Donick’s eyes, he smiled “kindly” and said,

"However, Uncle Donick—everything else is a gift. Only this one thing is a loan. Remember to return it to me later, com-plete-ly intact. Understood?"

"...U-understood."

"Good."

Muen let go. "Let’s keep moving."

He didn’t exchange many words with the wounded. Muen knew he still didn’t have the “right” to offer condolences, so he simply continued through this cramped “ward.”

Most of the soldiers leaning against the walls struggled to rise and salute Donick.

As for those on the beds, their expressions were long since numb—they only stared dully at the ceiling, black as pitch.

Here, no one knew who he was, and no one cared—this duke’s son.

...

After leaving the wounded area, the view opened up all at once.

There was no suspension bridge anymore—just a passageway enclosed by tall walls on both sides, winding upward along the silver cliff face.

The third wall was, in the first place, almost carved directly from the original Abyss cliff.

On both sides of the passageway, many soldiers were sitting and resting. They didn’t look as solemn and disciplined as the soldiers Muen had seen earlier—if anything, they looked a little lax, either leaning against the wall or hugging a teammate’s legs, sleeping in crooked piles.

Muen lifted his head and looked. There was no cover above the passage. Cold wind and yellow sand could pass through unobstructed, and if they were resting in a place like this, it was probably because the demonfolk had attacked the city again and again—staying here let them react faster.

After all, to patch defensive breaches at any moment, there was no time to take off armor and rest properly.

"Up, up, up! Get up, all of you! Sleeping in a place like this—what do you think you look like! Do you know who’s here?!"

Donick glared and went forward to startle those soldiers awake.

After waking, within a few seconds they were completely alert, quickly gripping their spears, backs straightening, returning to that unstoppable posture Muen had seen before.

These were the Empire’s most elite soldiers—the kind even the demonfolk had once feared.

But only if you looked carefully could you see the same buried numbness and dead silence in their eyes.

"Young Master Campbell!"

The soldiers saluted Muen with standard military formality, but their mechanical posture made you wonder... if they, too, didn’t actually care who this so-called duke’s son was.

Muen passed them and continued forward. As long as he crossed the gate ahead, he would reach the fortress’s core region. He knew many people would be waiting there right now, including Father.

But Muen suddenly stopped.

"Ebul."

"Here."

"Those boxes over there—bring them over for me."

"Yes!"

Ebul was a little confused by what Muen was doing, but out of the trust formed in this short time, he instinctively chose to carry out Muen’s command—even with Donick, his superior officer, standing right there.

Very quickly, Ebul and Vick and the others used those empty wooden boxes to build a temporary platform.

Muen stepped onto the platform.

At this moment, many soldiers were also confused about what this newly arrived noble young master wanted to do, and curiously lifted their heads.

But more of them still looked as if nothing could arouse their interest at all, staring into emptiness with dead silence.

Seeing this, Muen couldn’t help thinking—what should he say first?

What could he say that would make life ripple back into those numb eyes?

No—wrong.

At a time like this, words were the palest and most powerless thing.

He couldn’t just tell them something. He had to show them.

Show them that thing called hope.

That was exactly why he’d crossed half the Empire at the fastest speed to come here.

Because he was still weak. Wanting to change the demonfolk offensive with his own power alone was simply impossible.

So he could only start with what was right in front of him.

But even so—just like that black sun earlier, enough to scare off the demonfolk—it was too high, too far away for these soldiers.

A black sun couldn’t give people hope.

In that case...

"King Yintuo."

Muen called out in a low, forceful voice.

"Understood."

King Yintuo nodded, then suddenly leapt up.

A dazzling crown fell into place. Nine layered rings spread open.

King Yintuo curled one hand in the air, then grabbed—hard!

In an instant, a booming roar shook everything. Boundless heavenly thunder crashed down, radiant might tearing open the sky above the fortress!

All the soldiers were pinned by that terrifying pressure. At last, every one of them lifted their heads, looking toward Muen with countless bolts of thunder as his backdrop.

"Good morning, everyone."

Muen stood there and, with that elegance and composure carved into his bones, greeted them gently. The booming thunderlight carried his voice to every corner of the fortress.

"I know some of you have already known me for a long time, and [N O V E L I G H T] some of you have even grown very familiar with my name, but please allow me to make a self-introduction first."

"I am Muen Campbell."

"Not Muen Campbell, the noble duke’s son, and not Muen Campbell, the famous Lion King’s son."

Under the stunned and bewildered gazes of the crowd, Muen said each word clearly.

"But rather, the soldier who will fight at your side... Muen Campbell."