Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player - Chapter 530: Children of Blood and War
Kieran noticed a familiar aura from the approaching leader — one of blood.
Like a Fiend, a bloody sensation permeated the man’s being, but Kieran could tell with irrefutable certainty this man was no Fiend — no kin to him.
Before he knew it, Kieran had begun to frown as if he were experiencing a blasphemous ordeal.
Why did this man emanate a feeling almost congruent to that of a Fiend?
The answer was quite simple.
The approaching man had caused, bathed, and experienced an unthinkable amount of bloodshed. Enough to gain this dreadful mantle that followed him like a curse, only the man seemed to welcome that condemnation with open arms, similar to how a Fiend enjoyed the debasing of the Flame.
How many lives had this man taken?
As a Follower of War… the number was likely unfathomable. Similar to how the Fiend thrived on burning resentments, these followers flourished with the thrill of war and the heat of battle.
And with that thrill came an inevitable, massive loss of life.
The thought surprisingly didn’t bother Kieran.
‘War is bloody, and its conflagrations scorch the earth. What isn’t there to understand anymore?’
Meanwhile, the man approached and stood before Cardinal Weiss with a lax expression, betraying the severity of the situation and the tension of the soldiers standing at attention behind him.
Kieran regarded the man cautiously with furtive glances. He wasn’t the only object of Kieran’s rapt attention.
What truly bothered him now that he stood here was the large edifice nearby.
Strange didn’t begin to describe the nature of this fortress-like structure. Though it appeared man-made, it didn’t follow any architectural design composed by man, and it exuded a deathly feeling eerily close to the now-absent Screaming Night.
‘What is the connection here?’
Knowing that he’d have time to understand the mystery of this macabre citadel, Kieran focused on the man before him.
He found the man’s appearance slightly off-putting in a way he couldn’t place. While he embodied some aspects of War with striking accuracy, many qualities about the man seemed to subvert that.
While his expression was steely, his features were too soft, giving him a benign look. But perhaps having a pale and gentle visage while committing grave atrocities made the experience all the more harrowing.
Kieran could picture a gentle smile on this man’s face while his countenance was doused in his victim’s blood. That image was all but disturbing.
Kieran grimaced and kept analyzing the man.
He had kinky red hair full of deceptive volume and length, with a matching set of piercing and bloodthirsty vermilion eyes. The man could be confused for a lady if not for the scraggly brownish-red beard. His physique did not possess the same domineering thews that most of the Followers of War sported.
Still, Kieran sensed something more dangerous than physical might.
‘He’s overflowing with Mana!’
Despite still being in the early stages, Kieran could see traces of Mana hidden inside people if he utilized his eyes to a high enough degree. The flow eluded him still, but he could discern the general volume inside a person.
Cardinal Weiss and this man engaged in a silent standoff where the tension grew palpable and cumbersome. Kieran could have sworn he saw a blood mist envelop everyone, threatening to coagulate into an ocean that crushed and devoured them all.
Somehow, a silent accord was wordlessly met, and the first to concede was surprisingly the man in lustrous armor bearing the War Deity Council’s crest with coral liquid flowing through its groves.
“What brings you wild men to the Ravaged Plains?”
The Cardinal eyed the man silently before glancing around and speaking casually.
“You ask the question that I should be asking. You all from the Land of Promise generally wait until the pitfalls are all but consuming to step in. Why act so hastily now?”
The man, named Aerys and also called the Son of Blood by those amongst the Followers of War, chuckled amusedly before speaking pointedly.
“You’re not wrong in that harsh accusation. That is our usual methodology when it comes to approaching conflict. Allowing it to fester usually makes for a more fulfilling triumph, but you’ve got it all wrong, wild man. Our current efforts are far from hasty.”
The Cardinal of War and Flame’s expression experienced a set of uncharacteristic changes before settling for a sullen frown.
“What do you mean?”
Aerys pantomimed his shock with a comical change in expression, arched brows, slackened jaw, and a hung yet tilted head.
“Assuming you wild men to understand the happenings of Xenith is my mistake. Silly me. What I mean to say is that dark creatures are arising all around the Boundary, and it can all be traced back here. We… are merely one of many forces dispatched to remedy the problem.”
Kieran’s ear perked up at the revelation of this knowledge. He instinctively opened his mouth to seek more details but remembered his accursed situation, forcing him to close it without ever uttering a sound.
His mind raced, though.
‘It must be creatures that come from the Place of Bane. And if they all trace back here… just what did you do, Flame? What sick thing are you planning?’
Unlike when he usually questioned the Flame and got no answer, the joyful Flame answered, his jubilant behavior giving off the impression of a festive mood.
“What am I planning, you ask? It’s quite simple, really — a festival! A bloody festival. One the Culling simply can’t contend against. Ah, it’ll be a true war. Bloody as can be. Blood, stone, metal, and broken things. So delightful.”
The Flame’s excitement was never a good sign. A good omen to leave you hopeless, but never one to leave you hopeful. .
‘A shitshow you mean…’
Kieran wasn’t the only one taken aback by the disclosure of Xenith’s suffering.
“Ah, has poetic justice come for our razed lands? Will the other Lands know of our fate, learn of our struggles? It seems fitting that you all are guided by your righteous self-preservation despite its pointlessness.”
Aerys squinted, seemingly rubbed the wrong way by the Cardinal’s cynical candor. As he appeared keen to reply, a feminine voice called out to him from within the citadel’s lightless doorway.
“Aerys, why did you leave? We were relying upon you to keep these efforts running smoothly.”
Hearing a voice from the abyss was as spooky as one would believe, immediately garnering all the attention available.
Kieran looked, finding the voice unusually familiar, which was strange to him, considering the only female voice he should remember was the Sacred Inheritor.
But it wasn’t.
This voice carried a grim quality the snarky Sacred Inheritor couldn’t manage. Who was it then?
Kieran stared at the tenebrous doorway, offering dread in spades before the silhouette with a tall figure bearing lean, womanly curves emerged from the dark.
Aerys looked back at the approaching figure with a hint of deference in his vermilion eyes.
“My apologies, Daughter of War, but as you can see, the denizens of these Lands have come to this accursed site. Their appearance warranted me stepping away from my duties. However, they will resume shortly. That, I can promise, Adeia.”
Hearing that name, Kieran’s eyes widened.
His memories may have left him, but Adeia was not a name he would forget.
With a hint of solemn admiration, Kieran touched his chest.
