Chapter 330: A Lone Eastern Campaign
After urging Aen to become the Supreme King, Zeke returned with the Comrades Group to the Comrades’ Home.
Hode, however, had already returned ahead of him.
At this moment, Hode was leaning on a battleaxe, staring at a patch of dark cloud hanging above the skies of Hoover Territory.
The northern wind howled, lifting with it the withered grass at his feet.
Such was the Northland. Even in the season when green grass should have sprouted, the grass that grew remained yellow and lifeless.
As though its very life had been drained away.
Zeke looked at Hode’s back, and he felt a sense of suffocation.
It was just like a weak snow mouse catching sight of a mighty Northland Berserk Bear—merely glimpsing its figure was enough to make the whole body tremble, unable to move.
Yet, thinking of the restlessness inside the Comrades’ Home, he still opened his mouth to say, “His Majesty Aen has issued the latest order. He has called for all the Sacred Relics of the Northland to be gathered, to forge a Crown of Thorns. That will be the crown that represents the King of the Northland.”
Hode did not respond.
Zeke felt as though he was standing before a towering mountain—still and immovable, yet emanating an oppressive weight.
Swallowing a mouthful of saliva, he continued, “Everyone seems to be feeling some kind of call. They all want to head west to kneel before His Majesty Aen, but I’ve been forcing them to stay at the Comrades’ Home. This inability to follow the call has made them restless. Over these past days, several fights have already broken out.”
“Now, all the townsfolk have already gone west. If we keep restraining ourselves like this, people might end up dying from the suffocation.”
Zeke had originally believed that, according to their plan, leaving the Supreme King’s position to Aen was a gesture of goodwill toward Greenwood, a willingness to concede leadership.
With Hode commanding the strongest martial might and becoming the Northland Hero, it would be enough to preserve the independence of Northland’s will.
But he never expected that at the very moment Aen’s position as Supreme King was acknowledged, such a terrifying mutation would erupt in the Northland.
It was as if everyone had been dominated by the Supreme King’s will, yearning to fall prostrate before him.
Even Zeke himself occasionally felt that same impulse. One morning, he even discovered that in his sleep, he had already walked several paces westward.
This was far too bizarre.
A nameless fear of the unknown rose within him.
“The royal authority of the Northland… that is the mightiest and absolute Supreme King. When the Supreme King is born, the whole Northland will cheer for him. In that moment, the Supreme King is the Northland, and the Northland is but the extension of the Supreme King’s power.” Hode finally spoke, yet his words left Zeke’s face pale.
“Or rather, the very purpose of the Northland’s will is to nurture a Supreme King, and every person of the Northland is nothing more than his nourishment.”
“The three great trials of the Northland—the final trial is the Dragon. You should know by now that Dragons are the highest-ranked Phantasms, existences strong enough to rival gods. In the recorded history of the Northland, has there ever been such a mighty Northland Warrior?”
“Even I, as I am now, according to Greenwood’s measure, can only barely be considered a Tier Six Hero. Yet the Dragon is Tier Eight. When Aureus was still alive, perhaps he was close to Tier Seven. But just as the gulf between Tier Six and Tier Five, or Tier Five and Tier Four, that is a whole different level of life.”
“And in all the recorded history of the Northland, Aureus was already the strongest man. He bore the might of Northland’s bloodline and possessed the wisdom of the Woodlands scholars. Yet even such a man could not truly touch the edge of the Supreme King.”
“Because he was not strong enough. He did not reach the power of Tier Eight. Or perhaps no human has ever truly become a god—at least, not in any recorded history.”
“As for Aureus’s ancestor—that so-called Supreme King—he was not even Tier Four. Yet through trickery, he completed the feat of subduing the Frost Giant. And the Frost Giant was a Tier Eight Phantasm Beast. In other words, that Supreme King deceived the Northland into believing that a Tier Eight human had been born.”
“But in the end, it was deception. When the Supreme King was crowned, the Northland uncovered the truth. Thus, that Supreme King could only be regarded as a half-Supreme King. Yet even as only a half-Supreme King, no Northland person could resist his will.”
As he spoke, Hode turned around, his pallid pupils staring directly at Zeke.
Zeke suddenly felt as if he were facing the former King Aureus himself.
Hode went on, as though recounting the Northland’s past: “And now, this current fervor far surpasses that of the former Supreme King. Even after nearly a month, the frenzy has shown no signs of fading. This proves that the Northland has acknowledged this Supreme King, eager to heap everything upon him.”
“But in the end, the Northland is only a land. Even a single Frost Giant could annihilate it, permanently altering its environment—turning its icy winds into breezes like Greenwood’s, its hardened permafrost into soft soil. If that is the case, how could such a Northland ever nurture a Tier Eight existence?”
“It is as if a Tier Eight existence is mocking the Northland, saying, ‘Chase it, that Tier Eight power, that godlike strength.’ And so, the Northland, as if mad, established the Absolute Law of the Strong—everything, all of it, only to nurture a Tier Eight existence.”
“Grass is eaten by sheep, sheep are eaten by men, strong men eat weaker men, and then they themselves are eaten by even stronger men. The cycle continues, until one ultimate strongest is consumed.”
Zeke shivered. He felt as though the frozen soil beneath his feet were teeth, and that he stood on their very edge—just one step more, and he would fall into that gaping maw, becoming the Northland’s nourishment.
Indeed, in the Northland, such cannibalistic things did happen.
Food production here was not as abundant as in Greenwood. So, when disasters struck or harvests failed, some people without value were killed to feed those still deemed useful.
Zeke felt that this was exactly as Hode had said—the strong eating the weak.
But only just that. Those mighty figures of the past did not literally eat people. They had enough power and wealth to feast on finer, more delectable foods.
“No. This ‘eating’ is not merely consuming flesh.” Hode suddenly spoke, as though, just like Aureus once did, answering the words Zeke had never said aloud.
“The Northland’s law: the strong possess everything, while the weak lose all. This too is a kind of devouring. Just as I, in the end, devoured Aureus—I gained part of his strength, and even his memories.”
Zeke felt a sudden clarity. So, his feeling had been correct. Hode had inherited King Aureus’s memories, and unconsciously revealed some of Aureus’s aura.
Hode cast him a deep gaze. Zeke felt utterly seen through, and could not help but lower his head, avoiding his eyes.
Hode’s voice sounded again: “Aureus once borrowed the Frost Giant’s power to perform a ritual, probing the Northland’s limits. He learned that the Northland could only sustain a Tier Seven being. In Greenwood, Tier Seven was called Demi-God. And in Greenwood’s records, the most recent Demi-God was the Grand Patriarch of the now-extinct Theocracy.”
“For the Northland to raise even one Tier Seven Demi-God, it would have to consume all it had. But even then, it could never nurture the Tier Eight existence it craved. In the end, even through trickery, even if one became Supreme King, he could only be half a Supreme King, just like Aureus’s ancestor.”
“That is why Aureus abandoned going further. He stopped at the edge of Tier Six. That was the true limit of humankind. Heroes above that were miracles merely by existing.”
“Just like me. The fact that I could reach my current strength is a miracle built atop countless miracles.”
“If I had not become a slave, I would not have reached Greenwood. If I had not become a Punishing Knight, if my body had not been hollowed out yet endured, if I had not returned to the Northland, if I had not been chosen by Aureus and Greenwood alike, I would not have become who I am now.”
The pallor in Hode’s eyes gradually receded, revealing his natural brown pupils. He let out a final sigh. “That is what it means to be a Hero. To exist is already to be a miracle beyond humanity.”
Heroes were Tier Six existences—far too distant for Zeke, who was but Tier Four.
Zeke even understood that, no matter how much time passed, he would always remain a Tier Four Warrior. He was simply not pure enough.
Zeke wondered: had Hode been standing here all this time, contemplating such matters? But was there truly a need to ponder such things?
And in the end, Hode’s conclusion was only that he himself had reached his limit.
To Zeke, this meant nothing.
Compared to that, what mattered most now was the matter of the Supreme King.
Zeke could not bear to let the Comrades Group go west to kneel. If they did, then the sacrifices of King Aureus and the others would all be for naught. The Northland Hero tale they had woven together would be erased by the Supreme King’s will.
So Zeke could not help but say, “His Majesty Aen is not even a Tier Two yet. How could he possibly be truly recognized by the Northland?”
Hode chuckled. “If it were only him, of course he could not be recognized.”
Zeke felt some relief. If they only needed to endure a while longer, then this fervor would fade, and the Comrades Group would not vanish.
But then Hode continued, “But it is not just him.”
Zeke froze. He asked, “Not just him?”
Hode did not answer directly. Instead, he said, “The Northland yearns for Tier Eight. Perhaps it is a joke played on the Northland by some existence. As Aureus discovered, even if the Northland exhausted itself, it could only nurture a Tier Seven. Perhaps the Northland desires Tier Eight—but at the very least, that proves there are beings above Tier Seven, more powerful than the Northland itself.”
“As I just said, beyond Tier Four, each step is a new level of life. So what if an existence beyond Tier Seven—say, Tier Eight, or even Tier Nine—deceived the Northland into believing that His Majesty Aen had already reached Tier Eight?”
Zeke’s heart trembled.
As Hode had said, a Tier Eight Frost Giant could permanently alter Northland’s climate. Then what of Tier Nine?
Did this mean that a being beyond the Northland was toying with its very order?
Zeke asked, “You mean… some existence seeks to endanger the Northland? Even to… kill the Northland?”
His voice shook. Even he hardly understood what he was saying.
Kill the Northland? To treat the Northland itself as a living being, and slay it?
Even he found the very thought laughable.
The Northland was the Northland—a land of permafrost. How could land itself be killed?
Yet he could not laugh. Somehow, he felt that what he had just said might indeed be possible.
If it truly was… then what would the Northland become after being killed?
Zeke felt a suffocating terror.
“Then do you think such a Northland deserves to be killed?” Hode countered. “As you have seen, merely at a word from the Supreme King, all these people surged westward, there to praise His Majesty Aen, who came from Greenwood yet has now become the Supreme King of the Northland, and there they offered everything.”
“Or, to put it more directly, do you not think that such a Northland has already killed all its people?”
Zeke suddenly felt his heart pounding wildly, his head splitting into two halves.
He could not help clutching his skull, muttering unconsciously, “No… I don’t know, I don’t understand… I only think that I must do this. It is my mission, a mission I don’t even know when it began. No, I don’t even know when I realized that I was myself, when I first carried this mission.”
“Yes, the Northland needs the strong. Humanity needs the strong. Absolute strength, strong enough to command all! Only then can we survive! Only then can there be a future!”
“Strong… strong… strong, absolute strength!”
“And here in my Northland, where the bloodline of the mightiest warriors runs, the strongest must be born from us!”
“This is everything. This is the future!”
Zeke’s body trembled. He collapsed to his knees, retching. Though the sky was clear above, a haze seemed to cloud his eyes. Hode’s expression bore a strange kind of sorrowful compassion.
“Cough… cough…” Zeke coughed several times, then said, “King Aureus once said, the most obvious difference between men and beasts is freedom. Every man has his own thoughts, his own ideas. Only with that can sparks ignite, giving birth to countless futures.”
“So if men truly lose their thoughts, then men lose their future. And men, too, might as well be dead.”
Zeke gave his answer. One hand pressed hard against his head, the other clutched his stomach. He felt his strength draining away.
Hode did not answer at once. He simply breathed steadily, then slowly opened his eyes and said, “So, do you think such a Northland ought to be killed?”
Zeke felt his heart surge again, this time his blood rushing like a maddened Northland Warrior crashing through his veins, heedless of whether his body could endure.
He even felt as though his own body was going to kill him.
Clenching his teeth, his eyes bloodshot, he declared, “This is the Northland, and we are the brave Northland Warriors. We must live, then become strong. We must raise our heads and gaze at the sky—there, the distant Hall of Heroes. Only by gripping our weapons and fighting to the death will the gates be opened for the bravest warriors. So Northlanders must not kneel there meekly, waiting to be slaughtered.”
Zeke lifted his head, his voice hoarse yet powerful as he sang the Warrior’s Song:
“‘Warrior, warrior, by his honor sworn.
When the Northland trembles in war,
The warrior’s roar is like a blade,
Even the fiercest foe flees at its sound.
In the Hall of Heroes, they hear the song of triumph.
Hear, O sons of the Northland.
This will be your tale, and the legend of the Northland.
Warrior, warrior, we pray for the blessing we gained from you!’”
His final shout was like a roar: “Even if the Northland itself rules its sons, before the Northland Warriors, it is but an enemy—the fiercest enemy!”
When he finished, his wildly pounding heart suddenly soared, then gradually calmed, his body returning to normal.
Zeke felt as though he were soaking in a warm spring, the burden lifted from him, utterly at ease.
The agony from just moments ago seemed but an illusion.
Only now did he realize he was kneeling on the ground…
“So, your answer is… to kill the Northland?” Hode’s voice sounded again.
Zeke’s thoughts snapped back. He knew he was speaking with Hode, and said, “At the very least, Northland Warriors will not just wait to die.”
He still could not bring himself to utter the words “kill the Northland.” After all, he was born in the Northland, raised in the Northland.
Hode laughed. “Then prepare yourself for battle.”
Zeke froze, not comprehending for a moment.
Battle? To battle the Northland itself?
Did that mean… to raise his hammer, his axe, and hack at the very earth?
He almost laughed at the absurd thought.
But Hode’s solemn expression stopped him.
Hode spoke slowly:
“‘Gate of Annihilation, chains sundered, battle-cries resound;
Wings of Frost, dragon-blood descends, dragon soul extinguished;
Bridge of Heroes, fight to the death, the hall of heroes;
Wrath of the Northland, ice-bound earth, Crown of Thorns.’”
Zeke knew. This was the prophecy that had spread across the Northland this year. He even knew it came from Greenwood—though he did not know from whom.
Hode reached into his collar and took out a small wooden cross.
It was tiny, only palm-sized, and rough.
Hode gripped it tightly, lowered his head, and said, “Aureus entrusted me with the Wrath of the Northland. His Majesty Aen is to forge the Crown of Thorns. The songs of the Hall of Heroes already resound within the Comrades Group. Just as you said, gripping one’s weapon, fighting to the death—that is the way to enter the sacred hall of heroes.”
“Zeke, this is the prophecy bestowed by the Lord. To interpret prophecy is to find one’s path. As the Lord teaches, He only grants guidance, then lets men seek their own way forward.”
Hode knelt on one knee and held out the wooden cross to Zeke.
Zeke saw more clearly now. The cross bore cracks, glued back together with some sticky sap.
Hode said, “This is the cross the Lord gave me. And now, I give it to you. May the Lord’s teaching help you understand the road ahead.”
Zeke froze. He did not understand why Hode spoke thus, but a sudden foreboding came over him.
When Zeke remained motionless, Hode carefully fastened the cross around his neck.
Then he rose, gazing east. “Look east. There lies Hoover Territory. And in the skies above—that is the Gate of Annihilation.”
Zeke could not understand what he meant—or perhaps he did not want to.
Hode said, “The Lord loves mankind. He would never allow innocents within His sight to be unjustly harmed. Even after war, more than four hundred thousand still live here in the Northland.”
“I have been cast out by the Church, unworthy to call myself a devout believer. But His Majesty Aen came from Greenwood, trusted by Bishop Jeven. He is a devout believer. He is like the Lord’s own eyes, watching over all the people of the Northland.”
“The Lord loves mankind. Thus He granted this prophecy. It is His guidance for the Northland. It is the Northland’s future.”
Zeke grew ever more confused. These mystic words made his head ache again.
He could not help saying, “What do you mean by this?”
Hode turned, looked at him, and said, “Zeke, I am going to pursue my destiny. I will no longer be the leader of the Comrades Group.”
Zeke’s face changed. He cried out, “You would abandon the Comrades Group? They are the warriors of the Comrades Group, acknowledged by us. They can resist the Northland’s will!”
Hode said, “No, Zeke. I believe in you all. But my path has reached its end. Yours has not. You still have a future.”
Zeke’s lips trembled. He suddenly thought of Joaquin, who had slain his beloved to fulfill King Aureus’s will, dying almost by suicide—a Northland Warrior of unyielding conviction.
Hode went on, “Cooper is dead. I do not know if such a death will grant him passage into the Hall of Heroes. He did not die in battle, nor with weapon in hand. But I think that when I die, I should be able to enter.”
“As you said, I am already a Hero of the Northland. And you all hope I will be a perfect hero. Then a perfect hero must have a perfect curtain call. Only such a hero can be remembered by all.”
“And among the Comrades Group, you are the only one left alive of the leader and vice-leader. You must spread the hero’s tale far. Only thus will you not betray Aureus’s hope, my hope, the hope of all who died for that hope.”
“You must understand—you walk ahead of the Northland. You should be the vanguard of the Comrades Group. And you should always remain its vanguard, finding the Northland’s future for its inherited will.”
“There is no need to let your brothers die. I will be the true hero. A true hero need not hide his past.”
“Just like Holy Knight George. Even though his first night as a man was spent with a few coppers on a fat old woman of over thirty, bald and toothless, it did not stop all from respecting him.”
“Just like Dragon-Eagle Knight Richard. Even though he once was bitten on the leg by a mere Fishman Servant, even though he was mocked for being unable to sire a child despite bedding countless women, still he was respected.”
“You need not fear rejection by the others. I do not know what the future of the Northland holds, but it will be no worse than now. If any dare deny you, then use your fists—use the Northland’s law to make them acknowledge you.”
“Moreover, the Northland has already acknowledged you. It has left you its blessing. Congratulations on becoming a Tier Five Great Warrior. I do not like to use Greenwood’s title of Tier Five Great Knight, but ‘Great Warrior’ sounds crude. Perhaps, in time, you can name your own Northland title for Tier Five.”
Then Hode turned, picked up the Sacred Relic battleaxe Aureus had left him, and strode east.
Zeke stood dumbstruck, sorrow rising in him. He faintly heard Hode’s voice carried on the icy northern wind:
“The Lord commanded Greenwood’s nobles to march east, to unite Greenwood. That eastern campaign has not yet been declared ended. Even if the Lord has cast me aside, here in the Northland I will still answer His call. Thus, I begin my Eastern Campaign—alone…”