Fire Mage-Chapter 753 - 111: Whispers of the Chaos Scroll

Chapter 111: Whispers of the Chaos Scroll

Elara nodded in gratitude. She had been assigned to Highgate Town, a place with little to no military power. With a population of fifteen thousand, the town mostly relied on mining and blacksmithing. Beyond two police stations, it had no army or local guard to defend against monsters or invaders. The same was true for Oakvale Town.

Most of the kingdom’s military was concentrated at the borders or in the capital city, Gearford. When the border towns fell, these inner regions became completely exposed.

"I’m thankful for the offer," Elara replied, bowing her head slightly.

Raven followed her into the mansion. Once seated, he asked, "Do you know anything about the Fallen Knight Army, my lady? How strong are they? What about our allied forces?"

Elara clasped her hands. "The Fallen Knight Army is the second strongest army of the Viser Kingdom. They are known for their guerrilla tactics and unmatched cavalry. I heard their commander is a Legendary Knight."

She paused, letting her words sink in. "But we don’t have to worry too much about them attacking the towns we’re dispatched to. The main army is stationed in the Sterlinghart Territory. The Sterlinghart family is one of the twelve ancient houses—they won’t back down easily."

Raven’s brows furrowed. "Can a single ancient family stand against an army?"

"The Sterlinghart family has a legendary powerhouse," Elara replied confidently. "They won’t fall just because an army comes knocking."

She then shifted the topic to the border situation. "From what we know, one or two regiments have been sent to maintain control over the captured territories. Even if a major battle breaks out, it will likely happen in Gearford City. If that city falls, Count Magnus’s entire territory will follow within a day."

Raven listened silently. "How strong are those two regime commanders?" he asked.

Elara shook her head. "Commanders rarely involve themselves directly. Even if they do, someone from our side will step in."

Seeing his cautious look, she added, "The royal family has sent someone to protect the territory as well. You don’t need to worry too much."

The conversation drifted to their own forces. Elara explained the structure of Count Magnus’s cavalry and the Spade Knight squads. Their coordination and armor quality, though decent, were far from the capital’s elite.

"You might not know this," she continued, "but Count Andres has also allowed his sons and daughters to participate in the war. The one who earns the highest merit will have a greater chance of becoming the next heir."

"Won’t the first child automatically inherit the title?" Raven asked.

Elara shook her head. "Not anymore. In the past, yes. But if the firstborn lacks talent, the house suffers. That’s why most noble families now use a merit-based inheritance system."

Raven nodded in understanding. The room fell silent for a while before he finally rose. After exchanging farewells, he left the mansion and returned to the waiting carriage.

The group made their way toward the railway station in the northern district. There, Raven reunited with his knights. The station was already alive with the hiss of steam and the rhythmic clang of metal.

After nearly an hour of waiting, the steam engine arrived with a heavy screech. Their horses were led into special wagons at the back, while Raven and the others boarded the passenger compartments.

Twenty minutes later, the whistle blew. The train lurched forward, leaving Ythendale behind as it headed to the next city.

Three hours passed before the train halted at the next station. Without delay, it continued its steady course toward Bloodstone City.

But just as they reached Bloodstone City, Roland suddenly fell ill. He began having nightmares and couldn’t sleep. Edger tried to heal him, but there was no result.

Raven even considered sending him back to Azmar, but Roland insisted on continuing with them. The next day, they boarded the train to Gearford City.

Their journey to Gearford was quiet, except for one thing—Roland’s nightmares worsened, and his fever rose. Edger and Drake kept nursing him and healed him whenever possible.

Three days later, Raven and his group reached Gearford City just as dawn painted the sky in pale hues. The hiss of steam and the grind of iron echoed through the railway station as they retrieved their horses from the special wagons.

The moment they stepped outside, a heavy tension filled the air. The streets, once lively with vendors and laughter, were now crowded with anxious faces. Families hurried away with bundles of luggage, whispering among themselves.

Talks of war spread like wildfire—rumors of forced labor, press-ganging of civilians, and border towns falling overnight.

"I saw this arch burning in my dream, my lord," Roland said as soon as he stepped out of the railway station, dampening the mood.

"Haa, don’t say ominous words. Let’s go to an inn," Raven said, mounting his horse. His tone carried quiet resolve, but his eyes swept the streets warily.

Knights, mercenaries, and adventurers from all corners of the Empire poured into the city, each carrying weapons, exhaustion, and uncertainty.

Jacob rode beside him. "Shouldn’t we head to Oakvale Town, my lord?"

Raven shook his head. "We need Count Magnus’s order letter first. Also, Count Andres has called all Spade Council members to gather here by tomorrow night. He said there will be a meeting, then we’ll depart the day after to our assigned towns."

The group continued down the main road, searching for lodging. But every inn they passed was packed. Mercenaries filled the taverns, corridors, and even stable sheds.

After nearly an hour of searching, they found a worn-out inn tucked in the northern district. The wooden sign creaked with age, but at least it had space.

They managed to rent a few cramped rooms. The Magnus Mansion lay in the southern district, and it would take an hour just to cross the traffic-clogged streets.

After tying their horses in the stable, Raven took a small single room while the others paired up in twos. Breakfast was plain—bread, broth, and cold tea. Afterwards, exhaustion from the journey caught up with them, and they spent most of the day resting. Raven and Jacob took Roland to the local hospital and even got medicine.

By the next morning, Raven and Jacob made their way to Count Magnus’s mansion. The guards recognized the insignia on Raven’s badge and allowed them entry. Inside, they met a few familiar council members already gathered in the reception hall.

To their surprise, Count Magnus had made arrangements in advance. Accommodations were set for all nobles and knights. The Holmes Household was assigned several rooms within the Knight Quarters.

Of course, space was limited—each Knight Household was permitted up to five rooms. Baronets could claim ten, while Barons and Viscounts were housed separately in small mansions along the same street.

Raven and his knights moved into their allotted rooms by evening. The quarters buzzed with activity—messengers running, smiths sharpening weapons, and banners of different noble houses fluttering side by side.

Around the same time, Baroness Elara, Viscount Rowena, Baron Gideon, and members of the Spade Knight Squads arrived in the city as well.

By eight o’clock that night, the nobles and knights gathered in the grand banquet hall of Magnus’s mansion. Crystal chandeliers glowed above, and the sound of clinking glasses echoed beneath the soft hum of music.

Raven took his seat among the knights. Though it was called a meeting, the air felt more like a celebration than a council.

Count Magnus stepped forward—a man in his forties, black-haired, blue-eyed, with a broad frame and commanding voice. He raised his wine glass, and the chatter slowly died down.

"I thank everyone for attending," Magnus began, his voice steady yet heavy with authority. "Our Empire stands at the edge of crisis. The enemy used cowardly tactics to capture our lands and enslave our people."

He lifted his glass higher, eyes burning with resolve. "But we will not cower before such treachery. We will protect our people—and drive the invaders back to where they belong!"

"For the Empire!" someone roared.

The hall erupted in cheers. Wine splashed, glasses clinked, and the nobles shouted in unison—

"For the people of the Empire!"

As Count Magnus’s speech carried through the banquet hall, Raven quietly listened from his seat near the edge of the long table. The nobles’ cheers faded into idle chatter and the soft clinking of silverware.

A shadow fell across the table.

"Seems we’ll be seeing each other often, Mr. Holmes," a calm voice said.

Raven looked up. Viscount Rowena—poised, composed, her presence alone drawing quiet respect from nearby nobles. She took the chair opposite him, setting down her goblet with a faint clink.

Raven stood immediately and bowed. "My lady."

"No need for formalities," she waved him off lightly. "Where were you assigned?"

"Oakvale, my lady."

Her brows rose slightly. "Oakvale, hm? That’s about fifty kilometers from Moonveil City." Her tone shifted, quiet but grave. "I heard it’s also close to High Border City—the one the enemy captured."

She glanced around, lowering her voice. "If they plan to strike Moonveil or Axeforge, the easiest route is through Oakvale. Capture that, and the rest will fall like dominoes."

Raven’s expression darkened.

"But," she added, eyes sharpening, "the Fallen Knight Army won’t target Moonveil or Axeforge yet. Their focus will be here—Gearford City." She paused before continuing, "Still, if they advance toward Oakvale, hold your ground as long as possible and send word. I’ll come to your aid when I can."

Raven bowed his head slightly. "I’m grateful, my lady."

They spoke briefly about supplies and communication before the meeting came to a close. One by one, nobles and knights filtered out of the hall, the earlier enthusiasm replaced by quiet concern.

Raven returned to the Knight Quarters, the corridor dimly lit by oil lamps. Just as he entered, Roland stood near the reception desk, visibly pale.

"My lord," Roland hurried over, his voice tense. "Something’s wrong. I’ve been feeling... uneasy."

"Is your fever worsening?" Raven asked, placing a hand on his forehead. To his surprise, Roland wasn’t feverish anymore—but his hands were ice-cold, and his body trembled as if caught in an unseen chill.

He muttered incoherently, eyes unfocused. "I keep... seeing something. It’s coming... something dark..."

Before Raven could question further, Fiona appeared from the stairway. She grabbed Roland’s arm and sighed. "Ignore him, my lord. He’s been speaking nonsense ever since he got that fever."

Raven said nothing as she led Roland away, but the unease lingered.

When he entered his room, the voice of Zera echoed in his mind.

[Don’t take a Seer’s warning lightly, lad.]

Raven frowned. "You think his words meant something?"

[Nightmares can be warnings of the future. A ripple before the storm.]

"Should I prepare for the worst?"

[It’s better to be safe than sorry.]

Raven sat on the chair near the window, lost in thought. Then, he summoned Solis, the owl-shaped fragment, its eyes glimmering faintly.

"Devour all the Time elemental crystals," he ordered, taking out pure, glass-like crystals of various sizes and placing them on the wooden table.

The crystals vanished one by one in a soft hum of light. When the process ended, Solis’s energy rose—but only to seventy-four percent, not enough to cast Regressor’s Sight.

Raven clicked his tongue in disappointment and leaned back against the wall. "Not enough..."

He exhaled slowly, his mind drifting to the one-time skills he still possessed.

’Destiny Change... Nightmare Loop... Meteor Descend.’

"Destiny Change..." he murmured. "That one’s for my sister or aunt. I can’t waste it."

That left Nightmare Loop.

Raven reached into the void space. An eerie black paper materialized in his hand—its surface pulsing faintly like a living thing.

Without hesitation, he tore it in half.

The air stilled.

No sound. No light.

Only seven faint black lines appeared on his wrist—thin, curved, and moving like veins beneath his skin.

[Did you feel any change?] Zera asked.

Raven shook his head. "What is this?" he muttered.

Zera’s voice returned, quiet and grave.

[A... Chaos Scroll. Each scroll is said to possess power beyond mortal imagination.]

Raven’s eyes widened.

[That’s what everyone believes. They say a Chaos Scroll is born when a Demon Lord’s true body is slain and his soul is offered to the Abyss. Even gods cannot perform such a sacrifice alone.]

Raven stared at the lines on his wrist. "Then why do I have one?"

[It was a gift from a Goddess to Charles. But he gave it to you to protect Runeth’s soul. Even he knew nothing of this scroll’s ability.]

Zera’s tone softened.

[Rest, lad. Whatever its purpose, you’ll need your strength soon.]

Raven nodded faintly and lay down. The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows on the ceiling. His eyes grew heavy.

Then—

A sharp, burning pain spread through his neck. His vision blurred, colors twisting around him.

Zera’s voice echoed, distorted and distant.

[Did you feel any change?]

"What change? Why am I sitting on the bed? I was in the middle of sleep, right?" Raven asked, puzzled.

[What are you saying, lad? Didn’t we enter this room a while ago? We came here as soon as the meeting ended, right?]

Zera suddenly stopped speaking.

[What were you doing before you slept?]

Raven looked confused but responded.

"After I tore the Chaos Scroll, nothing unusual happened. Then, you said something about the Chaos Scroll being a gift from a Goddess to Charles and told me to rest."

[I never told you anything about the Chaos Scroll being a gift from a God.]

"You said it a while ago! I went to sleep. But suddenly, I felt pain in my neck and woke up in panic," Raven said, touching his neck.

[Oh dear! It’s going to be a long night,] Zera sighed deeply.