Chapter 118: And You Are?

Manester and Kyo finally reached the abandoned television tower.

They had already prepared themselves on the way over.

Kyo had even spoiled the biggest part and told Manester that Joren had broken through to Rank Five.

None of that helped much.

Standing here in person was different.

The sight hit with enough force to leave both men, who had spent decades holding Norcrest together, speechless.

Voidbeast corpses had already been sorted into neat piles across the ground, stacked into several small hills.

A faint smell of blood still lingered in the air.

But beneath it was something neither man had ever associated with this place before.

Clean air.

Open air.

The air of land that belonged to humans again.

Manester’s gaze passed over the three thousand soldiers standing rigidly in formation and stopped on the enormous steel plate fixed to the television tower.

[Take Back the Wastes, Reclaim Our Land]

Each stroke seemed to cut straight into him.

He had ruled Norcrest for twenty years.

He had seen death.

Loss.

Political games.

Beast Tides.

More funerals than he cared to remember.

Now his eyes turned red.

His lips moved several times before anything came out.

"Good..."

He swallowed.

"Good."

How many years had it been?

Ever since the day he took charge of Norcrest, that red Fallen Zone on the map had sat in his throat like a thorn.

Even sleep had never been completely peaceful.

There was always the same fear somewhere in the back of his mind.

One day he would wake up and the Beast Tide would have broken through.

Today, a seventeen year old had ripped that thorn out by the root.

Then slapped the Voidbeasts across the face with it and told them the land had changed owners.

Beside him, Kyo said nothing.

His fingers trembled faintly around the hilt of his sword.

He could feel the Blade Intent still lingering in those carved words.

Domineering.

Pure.

Answering to nothing but itself.

"So this is Rank Five..."

Kyo’s gaze shifted.

He had been stuck at Half Step Rank Six for years, always believing the final gap was just one more push in cultivation.

Looking at those words now, he understood that it was not.

What he lacked was not power.

It was state of mind.

The nerve to look at the world as it was and decide it should become something else.

Then the figure at the top of the tower moved.

Joren descended.

No crash.

No burst of wind.

He simply landed without a sound.

That level of control was almost offensive.

He slid the absurdly long [Heaven’s Sin] back into the sheath on his back.

The terrifying presence that had seemed ready to cut apart the sky vanished with it.

The change was jarring.

One moment, he had looked like a tyrant seated above the world.

The next, he was just a young man in a black coat with a clean face and calm eyes.

Joren walked toward them.

The three thousand soldiers of Antares Command parted on their own.

Every back straightened as he passed.

Every gaze followed him.

Joren stopped in front of Manester and Kyo with a mild smile.

He looked to Kyo first and gave him the proper courtesy of a junior addressing a senior.

"Senior Kyo, thank you for covering the perimeter earlier."

His tone was sincere.

No arrogance.

No trace of a young genius drunk on success.

Kyo paused, then waved one hand, his old face coloring slightly.

"I... mostly watched."

"You did the killing yourself."

Joren smiled and turned to Manester.

"Commander Manester. Mission accomplished."

He gestured toward the ruins behind him.

"This area is clean."

Manester drew in a long breath and slapped Joren heavily on the shoulder.

"You little monster."

"You really gave Norcrest something to be proud of."

"I am filing this one personally."

"Highest commendation."

"No argument."

The three of them stood there talking easily.

For all the blood and ruins around them, the atmosphere was almost like family meeting again after a long absence.

Sable stood off to the side.

And somehow managed to feel like a piece of background scenery.

Or worse.

A clown.

His face went through several expressions without settling on one.

That was it?

Where was the insufferable young tyrant?

The arrogant brat who refused advice and looked down on everyone?

According to the version of Joren Sable had built in his head, the boy should have been standing there with his nose in the air, waiting for everyone around him to praise him.

Seventeen years old.

Rank Five.

And responsible for reclaiming lost territory.

If one of Highcrest City’s so called geniuses had done even half of that, they would already be making sure the entire Dominion knew their name.

But Joren...

He was completely normal.

That was the problem.

The humility did not feel forced.

It came from somewhere deeper.

Someone truly confident had no need to wrap himself in arrogance.

Someone whose eyes were already fixed much farther ahead had no reason to brag about what had happened here.

That was far more unsettling.

Then Sable looked at Kyo.

At the way the old swordsman looked at Joren.

There was appreciation there.

Warmth.

Not the slightest trace of resentment.

And Joren had just thanked him for covering the perimeter.

Sable’s mind went blank.

Then everything connected.

Liar.

That old bastard had acted the whole thing out.

Getting in the way?

Being told to get lost?

Dragged down by him?

All fabricated.

These people had been working together from the start.

And Sable had believed every word.

He had marched out here full of righteous fury, convinced he was about to save everyone.

No one needed saving.

They were practically holding a victory celebration.

Heat surged from the soles of Sable’s feet all the way to his face.

A Highcrest City inspector.

A Rank Five expert.

Played like a fool by a bunch of people from Norcrest.

"Cough."

Sable cleared his throat heavily.

He wanted to say something.

Then he noticed the soldiers.

Three thousand pairs of eyes had turned toward him.

These men had just followed Joren through a campaign that would likely define the rest of their careers.

Every one of them had earned enough merit to keep future opportunities coming for years.

This was not the moment to criticize the person they credited for all of it.

Sable could practically feel the three thousand blades around him.

Inspector or not.

Rank Five or not.

Official authority meant very little in front of soldiers still running hot from blood, victory, and something close to worship.

A line crossed Sable’s mind.

Say the wrong thing here, and these lunatics might actually cut me apart, throw me onto the Voidbeast piles, and report that I died in the line of duty.

Cold sweat formed down his back.

He had survived too many years in politics not to recognize when a room belonged to someone else.

The frustration sat in his chest like a stone.

He could barely breathe around it.

Then Joren, who had been discussing plans for an outpost with Manester, finally seemed to notice the man standing awkwardly nearby.

He stopped.

Turned.

Clear eyes moved over Sable from head to toe with mild curiosity.

Then Joren looked back at Manester.

"And you are?"