The Forgotten Field - Chapter 73

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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 73
Act 2. Despair Wears the Color of Ash
His first memory always began in the same place.
A vast plain suffused with golden light. Above it, the wind swept in violent gusts.
As I pushed through the undulating grassland, an oddly vivid blue sky poured down overhead.
Barcas advanced aimlessly between the boundary of gold and blue, seized by an intense tremor.
At some point, I no longer knew where I was heading. I simply ran wildly through the wind.
I was free.
I could go anywhere and do anything.
The beautiful world before my eyes whispered as much.
My heart pounded as though it might burst.
The scorching heat of blood flowing through my veins and the cool dryness of air filling my lungs.
Every sensation told me I was alive.
I tasted the ecstasy of existence.
Yet that brilliant moment did not endure.
Thick gray walls closed in from all sides.
A space so cramped I could not even sit, let alone lie down. Trapped in a sealed chamber no different from a coffin, I clawed at the walls until my fingernails shattered.
That futile resistance soon crumbled.
Through a narrow crack in the wall, the fanatic’s eyes peered in at intervals. The High Priest would never release me until every trace of the ‘evil’ dwelling within me was obliterated.
In the depths of that bottomless despair, I killed every sense within myself.
First, I tore away pain.
Then I numbed taste and smell.
At some point, hunger ceased to exist, and the desire for sleep vanished.
I could no longer be called a living creature.
Only when my contents had completely evaporated, leaving nothing but an empty shell, did the tomb’s door open.
I gazed upward with hollow eyes at the figure standing against the light. Instead of eyes gleaming with strange heat and a face cold as cast steel, a slender face drained pale with shock came into view.
A woman with dark hair and light-colored eyes reached out toward me. Her delicate fingers touched my cracked cheek. Yet I felt nothing beyond a faint pressure.
That hand, which might have been salvation, drew me out of the tomb. Piercing sunlight poured into the depths of my pupils.
An unnaturally pallid landscape filled my retinas.
I soon noticed that everything reflected in my eyes bore the color of ash.
A colorless, odorless, faded world.
It seemed the entire world might crumble to ash at any moment.
Or perhaps it was I who had already turned to ash.
I slowly lifted my eyelids.
For a moment, I could not properly grasp where I was.
Only after several seconds did the ceiling of the tent, shrouded in dark shadow, come into focus.
I slowly raised my arm.
Not the skeletal hand of a child, but a man’s hand with prominent bones and sinews came into view.
As though confirming something, I examined it, when a sound like a beast’s cry echoed from somewhere.
Barcas mechanically pushed himself upright. Almost simultaneously, a Soldier burst into the tent.
“Grand Duke Sierkan! Dire wolves have appeared!”
He swung his legs out from beneath the bed immediately. Seizing the halberd propped at the head of the bed, he strode outside where Attendants waiting in the shadows swiftly fastened a lightweight breastplate around his torso.
I shook off their fumbling hands and swept my gaze across the chaotic Campsite with practiced efficiency.
The pale dawn light cast a dim glow across the orderly rows of tents and the soldiers darting frantically between them.
Within moments, I spotted the creature—a massive black beast nearly eight cubits in length, roughly two hundred and forty centimeters tall.
The monster had spotted me as well. The enormous wolf, body flattened in a predatory crouch, launched itself skyward with a savage roar, claws tearing at the earth.
I extended my left foot forward half a step and gripped the halberd diagonally. The heavy axe blade at the spear’s tip tilted upward from the ground.
As the black shadow consumed my vision, I twisted the shaft with tremendous force and swung it in a diagonal arc.
The crescent-shaped blade pierced the wolf’s tough hide, cleaving through dense muscle and thick bone in a single, fluid motion.
From the severed edge, viscous blood erupted like a fountain.
I wiped the spray from my cheek with my sleeve and turned my head to survey the surroundings. Between the coniferous trees standing like a palisade, ash-colored beasts scattered with agility.
Recognizing their retreat, I lowered my gaze to the massive corpse sprawled across the ground.
‘…It appears this one was the alpha.’
Wolves lose their hierarchy and collapse in an instant once their leader falls.
I drove the pointed spear tip into the ground and moved toward the collapsed tents to assess the damage.
Between broken tent poles and scattered canvas lay the dark, fur-covered beast. Crouching to examine the wolf’s corpse, its heart pierced clean through, a light voice with a casual tone drifted from behind me.
“Quite the raucous welcome ceremony on your first day home, I must say.”
I turned to see a bare-chested man with only a loose coat draped carelessly over his shoulders. A Barakan Warrior. He drove the halberd in his hand into the ground and gestured toward the forest with a nod.
“Shall I have the men pursue them?”
“We cannot afford to scatter our forces now. First, clean up the damage and reinforce the perimeter.”
“There’s barely any damage to speak of. They only took one pack animal.”
The man rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, responding offhandedly.
“One of the newly initiated adults suffered minor injuries, but fortunately, there were no casualties.”
I straightened my posture.
The sun had risen fully by now, its light illuminating every corner of the ravaged Campsite.
I surveyed the surroundings calmly to gauge the full extent of the damage, then turned my eyes back to the man.
“Have the Campsite cleared. We move before more beasts arrive drawn by the scent of blood.”
“As you command.”
As the man turned and walked away at a leisurely pace, I moved toward the center of the Campsite.
My eyes swept across Soldiers struggling to calm the agitated horses and servants clearing away the broken tents.
I passed them and walked toward the water barrel positioned beside the large Barracks.
A ghostly pale shadow reflected across the clear rainwater collected the day before.
I gazed at it briefly, then cupped water in my hands and washed the blood from my face. The lukewarm liquid provided a subtle stimulus against my skin.
I wiped it away roughly and brought my hand to my nose, inhaling deeply.
The metallic scent of blood faded, replaced by a faint, watery smell.
I could not determine which was the better scent.
Smell was the first sense I had recovered. Yet I still could not connect the stimuli transmitted to my brain with emotion.
I could distinguish the type and intensity of olfactory sensations, but they did not translate into preference or aversion. I merely categorized them through learning—what pleased others and what did not.
And according to what I had learned, the scent of blood particularly displeased people.
I removed my stained armor carelessly, discarding it on the ground, and examined my shirt.
Fortunately, no bloodstains were visible. Yet there might be other unpleasant odors clinging to the fabric that he himself failed to notice.
He turned his steps toward his tent to change into fresh clothes.
It was then that he spotted the Quarter Dwarf pacing anxiously in front of the central tent of the campsite.
Barcas approached without hesitation, closing the distance between them.
“What’s the matter?”
My own voice sounded so rough and unfamiliar to my ears.
The woman flinched, her eyes widening with alarm.
“Ah, the young lady… she hasn’t been seen since earlier…”
A sharp ringing erupted in my ears.

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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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