Aurelian felt that stopping his emotions was as impossible as stopping the red dust from falling.
Aletha smiled. "You know I’m a special class now."
"I know," Aurelian replied simply, lowering his head again.
"So, technically, I’m stronger now."
Technically—a word coined by Raoul Andronicus, the son of the Sovereign. Some called him the Ancestor, though no one could be sure how, if the Sovereign was truly immortal, how could he have an ancestor?
"Not when I’m in Shard-armor," Aurelian countered.
Aletha grinned. "Don’t forget, even though the armor gives you the strength of a special class, you’re not really in that class. You don’t have the perks."
"What I have is enough," Aurelian replied.
With wide eyes, Aletha puffed out her chest. "You want to test that? Me and you, right now!"
"Really?" Aurelian looked at her skeptically.
She paused, mumbling something under her breath, then muttered something that made Aurelian’s breath catch.
"How goes courtship?"
"Aletha!" Aurelian’s voice rose, loud enough to draw curious glances from nearby tables.
Unlike Aletha, who often provoked fearful glances, his outburst was met with smacking lips, muttered comments, and disapproving looks. He sighed, regaining his composure. She always knew how to hit him where it stung.
Just then, Aletha’s smile faded. "I heard the Golden Dusk crusade to the Western Dominion failed."
Aurelian recovered, his expression shifting back to calm. He wasn’t surprised by her words. Crusades to other dominions seemed like something the Empire was losing interest in with each passing circle. Still, he had heard that legionnaires from the War-Master Legion had been sent on the most recent one. He had expected news, but it seemed nothing had changed.
He glanced at Aletha. "How do you know?"
"A guardsman who was recruited for the crusade told me through a voicestone," Aletha explained.
"Can he be trusted?" Aurelian asked. He also wondered how the guardsmen had access to voicestone while in the legion.
"Well, to be fair, all he said was that they lost," Aletha shrugged. "But a loss is a failure."
"That could mean they lost a battle. Giants can be very tenacious," Aurelian said thoughtfully.
"I suppose," Aletha sighed.
Indeed, Aurelian mused. According to the way of war, giants were said to be similar to titans, though no one had ever seen a titan. Some believed they existed before the Solitude Epoch—back when the Creator was still merging the world into existence.
Aurelian felt his thoughts drifting away before he refocused on Aletha. "It’s really nice to see you."
Aletha tilted her head slightly. "Even through the fear?"
"Why do you even ask?"
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The surface of the black waters rippled as Dunn glanced toward the Chaplain—the man dressed in golden armor and a hood. The Chaplain approached the stone mirror-like edges, extending his hands as a bluish mist began to fume out.
But just then, Ren spoke with an irritated tone. "What in the shattered heavens is this?"
The Chaplain turned, seemingly confused by the interruption. "What is it, Archon?"
"Why is there a waygate beneath the war-temple?" Ren was fuming—and rightfully so. The waygate was a path through the Astra. Although not uncommon, it still belonged to the domain of the Astra—a space that bordered the line between what was acceptable and heretical. So why would one be hidden under the temple of the Warrior God?
"Could it be my father died because of this? We lost the war because the Warrior God was not with us, but instead, it was the influence of the Astra!" Ren’s fury boiled over.
Dunn understood Ren’s anger. Among the twelve Legionnaires—except for the Holy Custodians—the War-Master was one of those who did not appreciate the growing popularity of the waygates. They knew the horrors that could emerge if a rift formed, and the dark tide that surged out from them.
Quickly, Ren opened his palm—red flames ignited. He raised his hand, preparing to hurl the fire at the gate. He would have to aim for the stone edges, as throwing it directly into the gate could cause complications and chaos.
Dunn’s eyes wandered to the cold tails growing around the room. These cold grasses typically sprouted near shaded areas or boulders, protecting themselves from the heat of the Domination while maintaining their own coldness. They were the favored prey of the Reacher.
He noticed a few cold gu slithering across the walls, some along the tail leaves of the cold grass, and others edging close to the icestones scattered around the room. Blue and faintly transparent—these were cold gu.
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Pieces of the shattered heavens, Dunn thought. This was what the doctrine of the Warrior God had gifted them. As the scripture said, after the Warrior God had slain the Prideful Son, the heavens shattered—the sun turned white, and fragments of the heavens fell to the earth, becoming the gu that now moved among them.
Dunn briefly wondered if his body heat was the reason he wasn’t attracting any cold gu.
"There’s a fine line between what is heretical and what is simply ignorant—my Archon, do not become Antigonus," the Chaplain said in a layered voice, snapping Dunn from his reverie.
Ren glared at the Chaplain but regained control of himself. Several rage gu had already begun crawling over his armor. He would not lose his temper in front of the Chaplain.
Reluctantly, Ren lowered his hand, the flakes vanished, and Dunn watched silently as the Chaplain returned to his task.
The Chaplain extended his palm, and a fume of bluish mist swirled out, slowly creeping toward the stone edges of the waygate. Suddenly, a series of inscriptions lit up on the stone frame. Dunn felt a wave of weakness wash over him—cursed constructs of the Astra!
He held his tongue, though. He was no Canenese and had enough discipline to control what he said. The Warrior God might abhor pride, but he never said anything about spilling every thought like the dust of the Prideful Son.
The surface of the black waters rippled as though a stone had been tossed into them. This continued for several breaths until, suddenly, a hand emerged from the water. Dunn blinked in shock.
The hand was clad in golden armor, with edges that had a faint iron sheen. The palm appeared to be covered in some kind of leather material, giving it a brownish hue. By the shattered heavens, this was how the Warrior God himself was often described.
The hand-pulled more of the figure out, revealing an enormous body. Was that a giant? That was Dunn’s only thought as the towering figure stepped out from the rippling black waters. Ren instinctively stepped back, likely fearing corruption from the golden knight, who was in the waygate.
The giant figure stood clad in golden armor, so massive that even the Archon seemed dwarfed in comparison. Dunn felt like a child standing among them. The golden knight's armor was perfectly interlocked with precise craftsmanship, fitted beautifully to his colossal form. His helmet had a pointed crown, with two brownish glass visors that gave the impression of a mask rather than a man beneath. What kind of plate was that? Shard or Knight?
A tube ran from the mouth of the helmet to the back of the armor, and in his hand, the knight held a spear as tall as a man. But it wasn’t just a spear—half the tip was fitted with a strange tube that resembled a cannon.
By the Warrior God! Is that a small cannon? Dunn couldn’t be sure what he was looking at, but he stood in awe of the warrior that had stepped through the waygate.
The Golden Knight glossed over the room, his silence heavy, as if he were pondering something important. Suddenly, Ren knelt, pressing his knees to the ground. By the shattered heavens! Dunn realized. Following suit, he bent his knee and lowered his head before the towering Golden Knight.
Rank-wise, the Golden Knights were the personal guards of the Ruler, which meant they held the greatest honor a soldier or warrior could attain. Their duty and honor placed them above nearly all others—worthy of deep respect. They were also the authors of the Way of War and the first commanders of the First Legion. As for the name of that legion, Dunn had no idea.
The room was filled with silence until the Knight’s layered voice echoed, like a sound bouncing through a cave. "By the order of the Sovereign, leader of mankind and conqueror of the Forge cities, I require a squad."
The silence stretched for eight breaths before Ren spoke, "Radiant Lord, what in the Warrior's name are you here for?"
... Dunn froze. Had the Archon just questioned a Golden Knight? The only ones with the authority to do so were the Legion Masters themselves, and Ren was merely an Archon—a title he had only acquired a few spans ago.
Dunn eyed Ren carefully, wondering if he understood the depth of his words. The room remained silent, then the Golden Knight’s voice broke the stillness. "What I do, or don’t do, is not for you to ponder. What I will tell you is this: the Ruler has grown tired of the stagnation in conquering the Domination. It is my role to ensure that changes."
That’s not the whole truth, Dunn thought, though he wasn’t challenging the Knight’s words. It felt like a watered-down version of the real order. Perhaps conquering the Dominion was part of the plan, but that couldn’t be the Knight’s sole purpose. After all, if the Ruler truly wanted to conquer the Dominion, he wouldn’t send a single Knight—at least not without more reinforcements. Dunn’s eyes wandered to the edges of the Knight’s armor—there was no gu climbing atop it.
Then, the Knight added coldly, "Also, Archon..." He raised his spear, pointing it directly at Ren. Dunn almost summoned a fireball on instinct.
The round cannon attached to the spear began to emit bluish smoke. Mana? Dunn’s mind raced. The cannon was powered by mana?
"If you ever speak with such boldness again," the Golden Knight’s voice grew icy, "you will lose your head before you lose your title."
Ren glared at the Knight but soon composed himself, bowing his head as he muttered, "Yes, Radiant Sir."
The Golden Knight pulled back his spear, glancing briefly at Dunn before saying, "You will select the best among you for the squad. In three days, we will retrieve the captured Death Runners from one of the Giant camps."
Dunn blinked in confusion. Did the Knight just acknowledge me? But I’m a nobody. The only reason I’m even here is because I know Ren—the Archon.
The situation felt strange, but Dunn quickly realized something. If I’m part of this squad, it increases my chances of dying—for honor, of course. A faint, pious smile crossed his face as he mentally thanked the Warrior God for this chance to die honorably.
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Night had fallen, the mist descended and Karl sat in a cart being pulled by a Maw person. It seemed true—they didn’t pant from exhaustion. Unlike many others, the Maw didn’t seem to fear the mist either. The driver—or was it the puller?—dragged the cart down desolate streets, moving through a strange part of the city. The walls were old, not quite in the tattered state of the slums, but abandoned and worn down.
The walls were stained deep red, and the streets were so coated in red dust that it seemed no beastmen had ever been sent to clean them. There was no sound, no movement. Some windows were boarded up with planks of wood, and the doors had been similarly sealed.
Karl glanced at the woman sitting beside him. Her black hair ended in sharp spikes, her black eyes now held a tinge of yellow, and her slender body was clad in a unique kefna. She held a rapier in her Freehand and occasionally glanced around, inspecting their surroundings.
"I thought we’d have arrived by now," Vin groaned, tightening her grip on her rapier. Just then, the cart stopped, and the Maw driver spoke in Maw tongue, "Uh, this is where I stop—corruption, mutation, ahead."
Corruption? Mutation? The only time Karl had ever heard those words together was in relation to the Astra—and Ludwig. He briefly wondered about the frightened boy.
Vin sighed, jumping down from the cart. Karl followed suit. She pulled out some coins from a pouch attached to her waist and handed them to the driver. Without a word, the Maw quickly turned the cart around and disappeared down the street.
Vin glanced at Karl and said, "This place had an outbreak of Astra. Fearing mutation, everyone left."