The Forgotten Field - Chapter 164

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 164
Act 3. That Tomb Bears No Name
“A terrible monster lurks within my son’s body.”
Father spoke in a melancholic tone.
Eyes clouded with fear and anguish flickered across his face before turning back to the Elder Priest in his vestments.
“You know well enough, do you not? The curse that flows through House Sierkan….”
A sudden, deep revulsion settled into Father’s voice.
“My grandfather possessed the ‘Devil’s Eye.’ He could pierce not only the hearts of men but their very destinies. Everyone revered and feared my grandfather for such power, but I understood its true nature. It was nothing more than an ominous, wicked force divorced from divine providence.”
Father’s gleaming eyes turned toward the altar of the Prayer Chamber.
Upon the pristine marble dais were carved the images of heroes who had contributed to the founding of the Roem Empire, and the heathens who fought against them.
Father, who had been staring at it intently, continued as if in confession.
“In ages past, our ancestors sought to use that power to conquer the Ten Kingdoms. With the strength of wicked sorcery, they trampled foreign peoples and spilled their blood upon the earth, offering the vital essence of life to the spirits of the land. They believed that earth stained with such blood would become our clan’s eternal territory.”
Father paused briefly before lifting his gaze upward.
Light piercing through the glass windows cast an eerie luminescence in Father’s eyes. He appeared as though possessed by something unseen.
“Yet our ancestors’ ambitions were mercilessly crushed before the apostles of God. For the sins committed by the Khan People, we should have rightfully become slaves to the victors. However, the merciful Creator embraced our sinful people as His own. In repayment for that mercy, House Sierkan swore to fulfill its loyalty as a member of the Empire.”
Father’s eyes descended upon me once more. I understood that all of this was directed not at the priest, but at myself.
Father gazed at me for a long while with anguished eyes before continuing his lament.
“Until now, we have kept that oath, fulfilling our duties as believers of the Imperial Orthodox Church and loyal subjects of the Imperial Family. Yet the heretical essence flowing through House Sierkan’s blood has never been completely severed. In my grandfather, and now in my son….”
Father’s thin lips trembled faintly. His expression was one of desperately suppressing something rising from within.
I wondered what emotion Father had swallowed.
Was it revulsion? Or was it anguish?
After a long pause, as if gathering something wavering in his chest, Father finally broached the matter with a resolute expression.
“I wish to carve away the savage nature this child possesses and reshape him into a perfect heir. I hope the Church will lend its assistance in this endeavor.”
The Elder Priest, who had been listening silently, opened his mouth with visible reluctance.
“Your Grace is still far too young. It would be better to wait a little longer for him to mature, as has been the case thus far, and then have him receive instruction….”
“That will not suffice.”
Father interrupted the priest’s words irritably.
“Many in the Eastern Territories have yet to completely abandon their old beliefs. Should my son grow up among them, he will lose his identity as an Imperial citizen entirely. He must be separated from this land as soon as possible.”
The priest looked down at me with suspicious eyes.
He seemed to wonder what about a child barely reaching his waist could fill the Eastern Territories’ ruler with such anxiety.
I too was curious. What had he seen in me that gave Father such certainty?
As I looked up at him, Father’s eyes darkened like an abyss.
“I can perceive it. Something that once dwelled within my ancestors’ bodies dwells within this child as well. If my son grows according to his true nature, this land will be engulfed in great chaos.”
With those words, almost like a prophecy, Father’s form melted away grotesquely like dripping candle wax.
The brilliant light surrounding the Prayer Chamber instantly faded to ash. The world inverted amid a droning tinnitus.
From somewhere came the sound of an iron door slamming shut.
The next moment, I realized I was trapped in a solitary cell so cold it chilled my very bones.
I was dragged here repeatedly. It was because I disregarded every rule of the Monastery and questioned the priests’ teachings.
I could not understand why I persisted in such futile resistance. The only result of such foolish defiance was harsh punishment.
I knew in my mind that it would be wiser to feign obedience. Yet something within my heart refused to surrender.
Perhaps something ferocious, as Father had once described, was driving him to perpetuate his own torment.
Because of it, he was condemned to endless suffering. Unless he corrected something within himself, he could never escape this place for eternity.
He resisted the part of himself that refused to break. He fought against the part that desperately wanted to struggle. If a terrible monster lurked within him, he swore he would tear it out with his own hands.
That fierce determination unfurled a strange vision before his eyes.
One day, within frozen time, he confronted a colossal beast. This monster was the source of his suffering.
Every time he found himself trapped in a narrow, dark chamber, every time he endured brutal lashes, he approached the creature to carry out the resolution he had made countless times.
A pristine blade materialized in his hand. He drove it into the chest of the beast that loomed over him.
The massive body, pulsing with heat, convulsed violently. Within the thrashing, heavy form, he wielded his blade relentlessly. At last, the enormous body covered in black fur collapsed lifelessly.
Yet six crimson eyes still gazed upon him. With trembling hands, he reached out to touch the blood-soaked body. The heart, cold and rigid, no longer beat.
Could he truly escape his suffering now?
Suddenly, he felt something streaming down his cheeks. When he touched his face, it was drenched with tears.
He did not understand why he wept. With eyes clouded by confusion, he looked down again.
The monster with six eyes had vanished, and in its place lay a golden-haired boy.
He turned over the prone corpse. He saw his own face, pale and rigid. Cold droplets fell upon it. Yet the tears of mourning dried in an instant. The vision, too, soon scattered.
When he opened his eyes again, he realized that something within him had died forever.
The scent of blood drifted from somewhere.
Barcas, awakening from his light sleep, cast a dry gaze beyond the entrance of the tent. The pale morning sun, just beginning to rise, scattered its cold light across the land.
Observing it to gauge the time, he rose from his bedding, took up his sword, and stepped outside. Orderly rows of military tents and hastily constructed military installations filled his vision.
He cut through the throng of soldiers and approached the defensive lines.
Atop the wooden palisades erected by the soldiers hung the heads of traitors he had personally executed days before. He gazed briefly at the hollow eye sockets, picked clean by flocks of birds, then climbed a ladder to survey the occupied territory.
The castle walls of Beldis, one of the Northern Region’s key military strongholds, and the vast plains stretching westward spread before him.
Given the rugged terrain and abundance of gorges characteristic of this land, Beldis was one of the few open fields where large forces could gather and conduct a proper pitched battle.
Most large-scale supplies and troops bound for the southeastern regions of Balto had to pass through this area. In other words, by occupying this place, he could effectively isolate Balto.
‘I should be able to push for peace negotiations soon.’
He leaned against the railing, opened the water flask at his waist, and moistened his lips.
Once the Northern Alliance’s nobles realized they were cornered, they would quickly turn their backs on the forces leading the rebellion.
They would attempt to resolve the situation by electing a new ruler with pro-Empire sympathies.
If he could persuade the Imperial Family to conclude a peace accord at that moment, he could end this tedious war of attrition.
‘If I’m fortunate, I could return to Kalmor within two months—three at the latest.’
He exhaled slowly and roughly swept back his disheveled hair.
Two years had already passed since the civil war erupted. During that time, he had visited Laedgo Castle whenever opportunity allowed, but since the full-scale fighting began, he could only monitor the state of his domain through messengers.
The last time he saw her was half a year ago.
Even then, he had only observed her condition from a distance. This was the first time he had left the castle vacant for so long, and it troubled him greatly.
He received regular reports about her well-being through the Head Handmaiden and his retainers, but words written on paper could not ease his mind.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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