Chapter 1986 - 538: The Lion Leaves the Forest_2

Dozens of marching cauldrons were set above the fire pits, the wood beneath their bellies crackling as it burned, simmering a thin, tasteless scent of wheat—this was the only breath of life in that deathly still encampment.

The cooks swung their long ladles with numb motions, the bottoms knocking against iron, making a dull, heavy thud.

"You call this dinner?" The young soldier stared into the wooden bowl in his hands, unable to stop himself from cursing, but in the end he swallowed his temper.

The oatmeal inside was so thin it was almost criminal; as it rippled, it reflected a face with sunken eye sockets.

An older soldier sat on a camp stool, raised his bowl before his eyes, and tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Even if you were feeding this to the horses, you'd still have to throw a handful of beans in."

"Be grateful."

Another veteran didn't lift his head; he simply drank a mouthful of hot porridge in An Jing silence, offering a flat, bland comfort to the comrade at his side.

"Look at it this way: at least we're heading west."

Every step they took brought them one step closer to home.

Though from the letters sent to the front, it seemed Roland City wasn't doing all that well either, it still had to be better than here.

Imagining the dishes of home, they felt the food in their bowls wasn't quite so hard to swallow; the fragrance of bread and stewed meat seemed to hang just before their eyes.

If they could have a cup of pine-nut wine to go with it, that would be Heaven itself; even if the King offered his throne in exchange for it, they would refuse.

"...Once I'm back in Roland City, I'm going to 'Old Oak' and drink myself dead beside a barrel, sleep three days and three nights before I even go home!"

"Haha! Will you still be able to find your front door then?"

"Ha, once I smell the goose my wife's roasting, fat sizzling, I could find my way home with my eyes closed!"

Going home.

The word carried warmth, like a spark dropping into a pile of dry straw, and the air, earlier suffocating and dead, suddenly began to stir.

The soldiers shifted on their rumps, edging closer to the fire. In their previously hollow eyes, a touch of light returned, as if that roast goose were already turning above the flames.

Yet this little glimmer was far too thin in the deepening evening wind; it wasn't enough to make everyone forget the hardship before them.

Someone threw a rock into the fire, watched the sparks leap up and burst, rise, then quickly be extinguished in the cold wind.

"I don't understand."

It was the young soldier who had complained about dinner. He set the bowl down on his knees, his voice pressed low, yet carrying a gritted hatred.

"All along the way we've been protecting them! If we weren't standing between them and danger, those mad dogs from the Judicial Court would've already tied that bunch of bumpkins to the stake as Heretics! And how do they look at us?"

He thought of the villages they'd passed—those eyes peering out from window cracks, not a single one grateful, every last one looking at them as if they were Devils.

Especially the children—those little wretches raised on mud—daring to lump them together with the Judicial Court!

We should've wiped them out, root and branch, back then!

"Obviously the Campbell people lied to them."

The veteran sitting beside him picked up the thread, his tone as bland as the wheat porridge in the wooden bowl, barely filling the hollow in their conscience.

"Those cunning Swamp People spread their rumors... Just wait and see. Once we're gone and the real monsters arrive, they'll be bawling and screaming for us to come back."

Heads nodded all around, and for the moment they chewed up that irreducible guilt and swallowed it down.

Too bad the Aus Empire was watching; they couldn't afford to ignore ancient law and raise their blades against those 'Lizard Species' of the marshlands.

Otherwise their iron hooves would surely grind that rotten land built atop the Maze into dust; they had no doubt their Radiant Knights possessed such Strength.

After all, no matter how legendary the Light of Praise might be, it surely could not be the match of a Demigod...

In the tent at the very center of the encampment, Heigmer Devalu sat within the canvas walls, head lowered as he gazed at the Longsword in his hands.

The blade remained straight and gleaming, yet the reflected twilight could not brighten the gloom buried in his eyes.

In the past, when he swung his sword, his mind was clear, convinced he represented divine will. But now, with every stroke, what rose before his eyes were faces twisted with hatred.

Though this doubt toward his mission was not enough to make him fall from the realm he'd attained, the confusion piling upon his heart still left him feeling a weakness he had never known.

His sword seemed to have grown heavier.

The ebb of Strength brought a faint chill to Heigmer's heart; he could hardly help wondering whether he could still defeat those Demigod Level Hell Demons.

And in the instant that such a thought emerged, an even more blasphemous notion flashed across his mind—

Could it be that Saint Sis had already abandoned the Ryan Kingdom?!

"No..."

Heigmer squeezed his eyes shut, then drew a deep breath, forcing that absurd, festering thought back down.

This had to be an illusion!

It had to be because this place lay too far from Roland City, because the Church of Twilight City could no longer hear the Gospel of God, and because he himself had gone too long without prayer!

Once he returned to Roland City, once he stood before the sacred statue in Saint Roland Cathedral and spoke of his torment to the Lord Bishop...

Everything would surely return to how it should be!

Heavy footsteps crushed the dead twigs on the ground; his Deputy Officer reached out and lifted the tent flap, stepping in from outside.

This subordinate, who had followed him for many years, now wore anxiety clearly upon his face, and in those steadfast eyes confusion was written even more deeply.

"Sir."

"What is it?" Heigmer did not lift his head, answering with his back to him.

The Deputy Officer drew a long breath, then slowly spoke.

"The officers are all talking... about the retreat order."

Heigmer gave no reply.