The skiff drifted across the lake. Aside from the faint, distant curses echoing from the shore, only the sound of heavy, ragged breathing remained on the boat.
As the others focused on recovering their stamina, Don retreated into a corner, sinking into deep thought. He looked at his straight sword, its edge nicked and chipped in several places, and his mind drifted back to the Land of Reeds.
The power of the Dragon Heritage originated from the Divine Heir. It was a power of undeath, and Don had spent years in that place, doing everything in his power to become one of the only two individuals to possess it. As the saying went: In shinobi arts there is the One-Armed Wolf; in swordsmanship, there is the Sword Demon. It was a distinction that had made a certain "scummy" samurai green with envy.
Setting the past aside, Don—who had truly experienced the Dragon Heritage—was currently full of questions.
The essence of the Dragon Heritage should be plundering the life force of the living to resurrect the dead. That's why dying too often causes Dragonrot to plague the land. I've never heard of it allowing one to plunder the strength of others through slaughter. If that were the case, with the strength of the Guardian Ape, the agility of the Nightjar, and the spiritual power of a Headless, I could have held out until the Americans landed.
He scratched his cheek. The strength of those Cuckoo soldiers and knights had undeniably flowed into his body. It was no illusion. But if he looked deeper...
Don leaned over the gunwale. The lake's surface was like a mirror, and in the reflection, he saw the golden light flickering within his eyes.
No. People in the Lands Between aren't ordinary humans.
In an instant, he realized the fundamental difference between the two worlds. Through the Blessing of the Erdtree, there existed the power of Runes. Intertwined with life itself, Runes were essentially materialized souls, used even as currency.
Don't's thoughts wandered. Even back behind the screen of a game, there was a major difference: a shinobi could not increase his base attributes, but a Tarnished could turn Runes into strength through a Finger Maiden.
Am I plundering the power of Runes? I'm essentially my own Maiden, except I can't choose where the points go, and I can only take a portion of it. The gap between a common soldier and a knight is massive.
Don cast a wary glance at the warriors on the boat. If this secret were exposed, he would likely be hunted by the entire world.
The Erdtree had sealed away even "Destined Death." Without war, the citizens of Gold did not experience natural death; when their time came, they returned to the roots—a specialized cycle of reincarnation. Now, an external force was snatching those Runes away. It was a sin of indescribable proportions.
To sever a man's path to wealth is like killing his parents; the Greater Will would certainly not let this slide.
This mutated Dragon Heritage left his mind in a state of chaos. There was good news and bad news.
The good news: he had brought a version of the Dragon Heritage to the Lands Between. Setting aside whether he could resurrect, the plundered power alone would allow him to grow strong rapidly. Without it, regardless of how much he trained, this body would soon hit its limit. Even if he trained until he went bald, he couldn't overcome the suppression of bloodlines. Someone like Blaidd could crush him with ease.
The bad news: this power could never see the light of day. To the Erdtree, he was an abominable demon that had to be eliminated at all costs.
But I have the Guidance of Grace. Can the Fingers sense me? Don't's scalp tingled. He couldn't exactly "delete" himself now. After some deliberation, he decided to study it slowly.
Firstly, he needed to understand the exact effects of this variant power. Secondly... he didn't need to overthink it.
Being decapitated by a sword is death; being blasted into dust by the Greater Will is also death. At the very least, this power would help him survive the crisis at hand.
"Alright, let's head back," Blaidd's voice called out. He scanned the horizon, seeing no sign of enemy vessels.
The resting men scrambled up, grabbing their oars to begin the pull north. There were no large warships on Liurnia of the Lakes; the Half-Wolf could send a standard boat to the bottom with a single swing of his sword.
They had won.
Blaidd exhaled a cloud of mist. At the cost of a single life, they had wiped out a transport unit. The thought of the Cuckoos going hungry tomorrow brought a savage grin to his face. He turned back, his gaze locking onto Don.
"Who exactly are you?"
"Don Wright," the youth replied without hesitation, leaning on his sword.
He felt the Half-Wolf's gaze scanning every inch of his body, like a blade trying to peel back his skin to find a hidden truth. But Don was not afraid. Possessing all the memories of the original body, he answered fluently, parrying every pointed question.
After a long silence, Blaidd closed his mouth. as Ranni's Shadow, he had thoroughly vetted this magic apprentice's background long ago. Moreover, the boy had stayed within the fortress; there had been no opportunity for him to be replaced.
The question remained: why would a coward undergo such a radical change in temperament? Don't's combat performance hadn't been "overpowered," but the courage and ruthlessness he'd shown were things even Blaidd had to respect.
No matter how far Blaidd's imagination stretched, he couldn't conceive that this body had been occupied by another soul. He could only ask grumpily, "Why didn't you run earlier?"
"Did you want me to run?" Don replied calmly. Seeing the Wolf's lip twitch, he let out a short laugh. "Lord Blaidd, just consider me to have seen the light. I've eaten so much of the Carian family's food that I'm too ashamed to keep being a waste of space."
"Aye, that's it," the surviving shield-bearer chimed in, wearing a 'wise' look. "The first time I, Villa, went to the field, I couldn't even hold my sword steady. Now, who doesn't call me a madman?"
"Being a madman isn't a good reputation," the archer remarked, glancing at his comrade's middle finger and chuckling. "In that situation, Don couldn't have run unless he planned on swimming across the lake. I heard Master Iji say once that when a man is cornered, he explodes with incredible energy."
No one is born a hero. These hardened soldiers had once been commoners. Only once they found the courage to cut a man did they truly step into this asura's field.
The soldiers had accepted Don, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. Blaidd still felt something was off, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He could only conclude that Don Wright was exceptionally gifted in adapting his mindset.
"I could have handled those three Cuckoos without your help, but... thanks anyway," Blaidd said with a touch of prickly pride, slowly raising a hand.
"I will report your merits. Let us fight for Caria together."
You mean fight for Ranni, Don corrected mentally. He reached out and grasped the rough, calloused hand. From this day forward, Don Wright was no longer a coward; he had finally stepped onto the path of a warrior.
The fires had been extinguished. The corpses, stripped buck-naked, were being tossed onto wagons. Several tall warhorses stood by the lakeshore, their hooves pawing at the damp earth.
Several knights gazed across the lake, their expressions solemn. The Cuckoo Knights numbered barely a hundred; tonight, they had lost three. The entire transport unit, save for two mindless Trolls, had been annihilated.
"Clear the field. Dispatch a second transport unit before dawn. The front line's supplies are running low." The speaker was a tall, imposing knight, sitting atop his horse like an iron tower. The plume on his helm was blood-red, and his armor was covered in scars.
"Understood, Sir Mathews." A knight took the order and galloped away, the sound of hooves fading into the night.
"Commander, it is confirmed. The attacker was Blaidd. He led a five-man squad to wipe out the unit before our reinforcements could arrive."
"Are you asking me how to defend against him?"
"Yes. There are no more villages nearby to pillage. If the supply line is threatened further, those suppressed Demi-humans and Albinaurics will revolt. A stalemate is not in our favor."
Mathews fell into deep thought. The Carian Royals were cornered on the western shore, their front lines besieged. But Liurnia was vast; the "rats" slipping through the cracks were a nuisance, not to mention the Royals' allies—those lowly Demi-humans and Albinaurics who incessantly harassed their patrols.
The Cuckoo Knights had limited manpower. They couldn't pull a large force back to guard the rear. A few stragglers could tie down ten times their number. A stalemate was indeed unfavorable.
"I heard the Carian Royals are constructing defensive sorceries?" he asked, his voice low.
"Yes. An automated, wide-area attack sorcery. Once complete, that manor will be impregnable." The knight tightened his reins, controlling his restless horse. He whispered, "Commander, perhaps we should withdraw. There is no need to pull chestnuts from the fire for the Academy. We bleed on the front while they watch from their towers. They likely want us and the Royals to destroy each other."
"Destroy each other? Of course they do," Mathews sneered, removing his heavy helm to reveal greying hair and a face mapping a history of violence.
His face looked as though it had been put through a meat grinder; even a piece of his nose was missing. His slanted eyes were filled with ruthlessness. Spies had already sent word: the Academy professors were discussing sealing the gates. Those damned sorcerers planned to hide inside and spectate the slaughter.
"But we must fight. This is the foundation of the Cuckoos' presence in Liurnia. Only by taking the Manor and seizing the Carian treasures will we have a place to stand. High reward means high risk. Those sorcerers are waiting for our corpses to pile high so they can stab us in the back."
Mathews clenched his gauntleted fist, gazing at the distant manor as if a thousand grand strategies were hidden in his heart.
The knight didn't fully understand the high-level politics, nor did he know when this balance would break. He simply opened his mouth to speak:
"But that Lunar Princess..."
"If she dares to show herself, someone will naturally deal with her. That is also why the Cuckoos persist in this war." Mathews spoke as if harboring a hidden secret. He pulled the reins, turning his horse, his voice carrying on the wind.
"Tell those sorcerers at the Academy: the Cuckoos are about to begin the operation to uproot the manor. Tell them to send reinforcements. If they continue to play spectator—"
"—then let them fight the Carian Royals themselves!"