The elf stared calmly into Kaslan's eyes. Just like the countless times before, she sensed the indistinct presence in the air.
Based on her experience, she would first read fragments and images mixed with countless impurities, like a gushing river, muddy and unclear with mud and sand.
After a few milliseconds, these irregular fragments would move with a powerful rhythm — depending on the mental state of the person being read — and gather around an obvious and logical clue. They would then be filtered into a discernible consciousness in an orderly manner.
Over the endless years, she had read the thoughts of others swiftly and accurately like this: the warrior's strength, the coward's weakness, the king's schemes, the nobles' treachery, the merchants' greed, and the priests' depravity.
Of course, in a very small number of cases, this time-tested method would fail.
Like now.
Aida watched as Kaslan brandished his spear and frowned slightly.
The only thing she felt was murderous intent.
Boundless and deep murderous intent.
Kaslan's eyes were filled with an indecipherable expression. His spear shook in the air, and the tip of the spear turned into an afterimage in an instant.
* Whoosh! *
The spear was before her eyes.
What came from the air was still pure murderous intent.
Aida spread her arms like a flying bird. She lowered her knees, bent her back, and tilted her head backwards in an unbelievable manner.
The pitch-black tip of the Soul Slayer Pike sliced through the air and brushed past Aida's chin.
In the next second, the elf's silver pupils contracted slightly. She turned her body to the side and dodged the pike just in time. Like a longbow that had been pulled to its limit, her entire body bounced back to its original position.
Her bright white hair fluttered in the air, giving off a breathtaking beauty. Together with her body that had been stretched to its limit, it formed a picture filled with power.
Aida somersaulted and put a safe distance between herself and her opponent.
Kaslan retracted his spear and stared at her coldly.
Aida sighed silently in her heart.
Even though the Soul Slayer Pike had forced her to the brink of death several times, what Aida received from the beginning to the end was pure murderous intent.
Yet, there was not a single shred of consciousness, behavior, or attitude in her thoughts.
It was completely different from the previous Kaslan.
Even the simplest birds, beasts, insects, and snakes should have a clear sense of direction and consciousness, right?
The elf focused her gaze on the tip of her opponent's spear and decisively cut off the waves of consciousness that were surging towards her. She knew that there would only be pure killing intent and nothing else.
This was a fellow who could completely control his own consciousness. In battle, he could discard all thoughts and intentions, completely letting himself go and giving himself over to the instinct to kill.
Her ability was rendered completely useless.
Aida brandished her knife sternly and adjusted the distance between her feet.
'There's only one condition that can create such a warrior,' Aida thought as she stared at the expressionless Kaslan.
On the battlefield.
It wasn't a quick battle like sneak attacks, surprise attacks, pursuit and annihilation.
Instead, it was the kind of bloody battles and hard battles that were accumulated from mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
In the boundless battlefield, there were battles all the time. Threats were everywhere, and danger was everywhere. Wave after wave of blood flowed through the battlefield, and the enemies broke through one layer after another. This kind of horrifying, torturous hell could sharpen a normal person into a beast that only knew how to fight and survive. It could forge the most powerful and unparalleled killing machine after the eyes of the warriors turned red from killing.
Over the years, she had met such opponents before.
Aida closed her eyes gently.
'It's time.
Abandon all unnecessary abilities and burdens, and face the most primitive battle. '
Just like her ancestors and seniors.
When she was young, the teachings of her elder sister on the training field reappeared in her ears, as clear as ever.
"Aida, you must remember that as elves, we love beauty and nature."
Under the dazzling white sacred tree, her elder sister's words were unusually serious and carried a father's authority. Even though Aida had only sensed her father's consciousness in the hundred years before she was born, she had never heard his voice with her own ears.
"But elves are never weak and easily bullied." Her elder sister clasped her hands behind her back and faced the trembling Aida.
She said flatly, "We are the heretics of the Ancient Elven Kingdom, but we are also their most powerful descendant branch.
Among all the remaining elven bloodlines in this world, we are the most warlike and the best at fighting …
"Holy Elves."
Her elder sister's expression became solemn. She turned around and made way.
She made way for the three captives behind her, who were tied up.
They were three round-eared, shivering, and extremely anxious humans. One of them had his hair shaved in the middle, making him look like a rooster, one had his hair smeared with thick grease, and the last one had a bald head. All three of them were babbling at them in the human language.
The rooster was ugly, the grease was not so ugly, and the bald one looked … God, it made her feel sick.
Aida still remembered her elder sister's words, remembered the expressions of the three humans struggling for their lives, and remembered the cold smile on her elder sister's lips. "Aida, according to tradition, raise your blade.
"Cut off their heads."
Complete your coming-of-age ceremony. "
Aida opened her eyes. An elf's extraordinary memory allowed her to recall every single detail in her memories clearly.
The battle moves that she had once practiced but gradually became rusty after relying on psionic abilities returned to her body.
She gripped the scimitar in her hand tightly and rushed towards Kaslan.
— — —
He was very thirsty.
His throat was burning.
His dry tongue rubbed against his teeth, giving him a strange chafing sensation, like a coarse cloth rubbing against a log.
He panted and lay down on the scorching sand. Using the large sand dune as cover, he avoided the deadly dangers — the sun, the wild sand, and the enemies.
He could not help but tighten his grip on the sword hilt in his right hand. Even his family heirloom sword was covered in dust and blood.
'So tired. So painful.'
He moved his sore and swollen wrist. Feeling the burning pain in his shoulder, he gritted his teeth and persevered.
'Damn it, that gray bastard's chain hammer still has barbs on it.'
Of course, compared to his Captain Walter, whose abilities were above supra class, he was already very lucky. A part of the captain's brain was probably still on the head of the chain hammer.
'But I pity Captain Walter's sweetheart who was still waiting for him in Wing Fort. I heard that the captain had once risked everything to save her from the bandits.
'What a pity.'
He sighed in his heart.
The pain came again.
He loosened the armor on his body, which was burning hot, and pulled open his sweaty, bloodstained, sticky collar.
'No matter what, I have to take care of my wounds,' he thought.
A canteen flew from the air and fell on the sand beside him, creating a dent.
He turned his head, puzzled.
"Use this low-quality Chaca wine that even hyenas don't drink. I bribed the military quartermaster." A veteran with a bandage over his left eye casually leaned against the sand dune. With his unbandaged hand, he struggled to take out a flint and skillfully lit the homemade cigarette in his mouth. "As long as you don't drink it in your mouth, it's pretty good to use it on your wounds."
"Thank you." His mind was blank. He turned over, panted, grabbed the wine canteen, and twisted it with difficulty.
The veteran finally lit the coarse cigarette in his mouth. Without hesitation, he threw away the flint in his hand.
As a puff of smoke wafted out, the veteran took a deep breath and let out a happy moan. Then, he stretched out his bloody hand and pinched off the cigarette butt, seeping it into the sand and burying it. To a scout whose eyes were sharper than a vulture's, even the smallest puff of smoke would attract their attention.
"We don't like to talk about this here." The veteran buried his face in the sand and comfortably exhaled his only puff of smoke.
He clenched his teeth and looked at the Chaka wine in the canteen that reflected the sunlight. He rubbed the corners of his dry and cracked lips and resisted the urge to drink. He raised his head and asked, "What?"
"We don't say 'thank you'." The veteran turned over and rudely slapped away the elbow that occupied some of his body space. He then turned his head and said to Thales, "It's too mushy."
He looked at the canteen in his hand, then at the hideous wound on his shoulder. He hesitated and sighed.
'It'll be over soon.
'Bear with it.'
"Alright." He opened his mouth and bit the canteen lid into his mouth. He took three deep breaths and said softly, "Then … I owe you."
In the next second, he closed his eyes and the wine in the canteen poured down.
The pain in his shoulder was like an endless flame, surging along with the scorching heat.
He trembled, heard himself let out a low moan, and felt the canteen lid in his mouth slowly deform.
Finally, the pain was over.
He spat out the canteen lid while sweating profusely. With trembling hands, he tore off his clothes and bandaged himself using the method the captain taught him.
The veteran who watched by the side sneered.
"Ha, I didn't expect to be so lucky to die together with a young master of a great noble family." The veteran laughed in a mocking tone.
He ignored the veteran's words.
From the first day he arrived in Western Desert and Blade Fangs Camp, he had to endure mockery and ridicule, whether intentional or unintentional, intentional or malicious.
'I'm used to it.'
"Is that so?" he said faintly and tightened his grip for the last time.
"No wonder you were assigned to such a good guard the moment you arrived." The veteran exercised his hand and sighed. "In another year or two, you might become a commander, or at least a captain."
He snorted softly.
"Unfortunately, you're unlucky, recruit." The veteran shook his head.
He felt a little annoyed, even though he was grateful for the help the veteran gave him just now.
"We're all unlucky." He decided to end the topic, so he raised his head and looked at the dozen soldiers who were resting under the sand dune. Most of them were covered in wounds and looked distressed. He frowned and said, "Are these the ones who survived?"
"Of course not." The veteran's expression was a little unpleasant. "Some of them were captured, and their fates were worse than death. I heard that the mixed breeds lack food, and the Barren breeds lack men."
'Food.'
He remembered the human skulls that were skewered in the abandoned camp and forced down the nausea in his stomach. "Lack men?"
"The tribes of the Barren race are lacking in manpower, but don't misunderstand." The veteran sneered. "They will give you a kind of medicine that will keep your penis hard until they run out of it, or until you die. Under normal circumstances, you'll be dead before they run out of it."
He looked at the veteran's meaningful gaze, sighed, and stopped thinking about the problem.
"Why are you so stubborn?" The veteran's voice traveled into his ears again. "Coming here to die from a comfortable manor and castle?"
'God.
So annoying. '
He thought irritatedly.
But the other party just gave him that pot of wine.
Feeling his shoulders, which felt much better, his gaze became gloomy. 'Yes, why am I stubborn?'
At that moment, he suddenly missed his home in Walla Hill very much.
That ancient castle full of forbidden doors and locks.
That lifeless manor.
Those two naggy sisters whom he wished he could throw away, one in each hand, and that old-fashioned old man.
He smiled bitterly.
"At least." He sighed and leaned the back of his head against the hot sand. "Here, I can freely choose how I die."
The veteran looked at him quietly and suddenly sneered.
"You should stay in those comfortable manors." The veteran shook his head. "Everything here is too unfair for you, young master."
A wave of indignation rose in his heart.
He turned his head and sighed. "Unfair? What about you? Why did you come to Western Desert? To this hell? "
The veteran was slightly startled.
"Me? Hah. "The veteran narrowed his eyes as if he was thinking of the distant past. His voice was tired and full of vicissitudes." For someone like me who should have died a long time ago, exchanging my life with those gray mixed breeds …
"There's nothing fairer than this."
He listened to the veteran's words and did not speak.
After a long time, he sighed.
"Hey, new recruit," the veteran looked at the sky and said faintly, "Remember.
"There is no glory on the battlefield." The veteran slowly exhaled. "There is only life and death.
"Glory does not belong to chess pieces." He saw the nostalgia in the veteran's eyes and listened to him murmur.
"It belongs only to chess players."
He tightened his grip on the saber in his hand.
That was the glory that belonged to Karabeyan.
At least, it was once the glory.
It was already past three o 'clock.
But the reinforcements had not arrived.
'So …'
"When will the next wave of pursuit be?" He looked at the sky and could not help but feel despair.
"Soon," the veteran said nonchalantly. "The heat can't stop those gray mixed breeds.
"We will all die here."
In the next moment, a dark shadow appeared on the horizon in the distance.
It was a huge figure dressed in ugly armor. It carried a chain hammer that he was very familiar with and swung it angrily.
He could only watch as the chain hammer flew towards his head. He saw that the captain's brains were still on it.
It was about to smash his skull into pieces.
He subconsciously struggled to get up. He saw stars and instinctively opened his mouth.
There was a sharp pain in his right arm.
"Enemy!" He sucked in a breath of cold air and shouted incoherently, "Enemy attack!"
"Orcs!"
Kohen Karabeyan roared in the darkness and pain as he sat up. He subconsciously shouted with all his might, "The gray mixed breeds are here!"
But this time, there were no coarse shouts or unpleasant curses in response.
There was only the sound of cold chains rubbing against each other and his own echoes.
There was also the incessant pain in his right arm.
Kohen, who had woken up from his nightmare, smelled the thick smell of lamp oil instead of the dry smell that was unique to the desert.
He then realized that he was not at the dangerous frontline of the Western Desert.
The police officer shook his heavy head with all his might. He panted a few times and pulled his consciousness back to his body.
"Wake up, Kohen. Be careful of your right arm …"
It was Miranda's voice. It sounded weak and feeble.
Enduring the pain, Kohen, who was drenched in cold sweat, was shocked to find that his upper body was tightly bound by a circle of chains. Even his fingers were bound tightly.
He could not move.
"Where are we?"
Kohen turned his head and was not surprised to see Miranda, who was also chained up in the dark cell opposite him. He exclaimed, "Where's Kaslan?!"
"I don't know." The swordswoman revealed half of her haggard and disheveled face. "I think we're very close to Heroic Spirit Palace."
"Shut up, Citizen of the Empire." Outside the cell, a soldier who looked like a patrol turned his head and said coldly to Kohen, "If you say another word, I'll dislocate your jaw as well."
Kohen and Miranda exchanged glances. The latter shook her head slightly at him.
In the cell alone, there were at least six people guarding it.
The police officer moved his ankle, which was also chained up, and came to the conclusion that he had no chance.
Kohen heaved a sigh and fell back to the ground.
At this moment, a thick iron door in the distance was opened.
Light leaked in through the open door.
Kohen raised his head and squinted his eyes to adapt to the sudden change in light. Another group of soldiers escorted two small figures into the cell.
"Keep an eye on them." The leader was a tall armored knight. He coldly ordered the soldiers in the cell, "This is one of the archduke's most important captives."
Kohen furrowed his brows.
'Most important captive?'
At this moment, a young voice came from the cell next to Kohen's.
"You, it's you?"
Under Kohen's astonished gaze, the boy who was suspected to be a Disaster Sword struggled desperately to the cell door. He cried out in agitation and pain at the two equally astonished small figures.
"Prince Thales?"
Under Kohen's almost lifeless gaze, the Second Prince of Constellation, Thales Jadestar, whom he met once in the Hall of Stars, had his hands tied behind his back. He was being escorted into the cell together with a little girl.
The prince looked disheveled and surprised as he raised his head to look at the person who spoke.
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