Chapter 155: Into The Divide [1]
Feng steadied his breathing, his palms slick with sweat as he adjusted his grip on the spear.
The cold air bit against his skin, but he barely noticed. He thrust his weapon forward with a sharp exhale.
"Rising Spear Thrust!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the training grounds.
The spear pierced the air, golden energy spiraling around the weapon as the wind burst outward.
The snow at his feet scattered in ripples, tiny flakes carried away by the force of his mana.
He followed through, pulling his weapon back into a defensive stance before stepping again.
His knuckles tightened, and this time he wrapped both hands firmly around the shaft of the spear.
He gathered energy, golden light pulsing along the weapon’s edge.
With a cry, he thrust again.
The air cracked. A burst of wind exploded outward, sharp enough to shake branches loose from a nearby tree.
The echo reverberated like a drumbeat across the training field.
Feng panted and lowered his spear, his chest heaving.
He dared to glance toward his teacher.
Anthony sat casually on a branch, one leg dangling, watching with a hawk’s patience. The older spearman chewed thoughtfully on a twig as the snow drifted around him.
Finally, after an agonizing silence, Anthony gave the smallest nod.
"I’ve taught you all I can teach you," he said at last, hopping lightly down from the tree.
His boots crunched against the snow as he landed with practiced ease. "From here on, it’s not me you’ll need. It’s the world. Go and earn your edge against wild beasts, not straw dummies."
Feng wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to contain the grin threatening to break across his face.
His chest swelled with pride.
Two months of intense heartbreaking training was finally paying off.
And during the past two months, many things had happened.
The first thing was Lady Edna, his Master’s wife, was pregnant with a child.
When Feng had overheard the news, he’d been stunned speechless.
The fact that Azel, the man he admired above all others, would soon be a father — it was a blessing, and since Lillia was there, it would be his second child.
Feng carried that warmth with him during training. If his Master could shoulder the burden of protecting family , then surely Feng could strive harder as his subordinate.
Not everyone had celebrated so cleanly.
Anya had been openly jealous, her usually calm eyes flashing with stormy emotion. Veyra... had vanished.
The woman’s absence was felt more each day, and despite the others’ reassurances, Feng couldn’t shake his unease.
She had been close to his Master; her disappearance stung.
But today wasn’t a day for mourning or doubt.
Today was Conquest.
The Patriarch himself, Azariah, had declared it last month — an expedition beyond the Divide, to seize new land and resources.
It would be the first such campaign in this era. Over three hundred warriors had been chosen. Today, they would test themselves against the unknown.
Feng’s heart pounded at the thought. He would stand with them. He would fight. And, if fortune favored him, he would fight alongside Azel.
The low, resonant blast of a war horn broke his thoughts.
It rolled across the city like thunder.
His grip tightened around his spear.
It was time.
...
The gates leading to the Winter Expanse groaned as they swung wide, and the world beyond shifted with anticipation.
Warriors gathered in a sea of armor and fur, weapons gleaming despite the muted light. The cold bit sharper here, as though the storm itself knew what was about to unfold.
Azel stood among them, his breath forming slow plumes of frost.
He had already said his goodbyes to Ellie, Edna, Diana, and little Lillia. Each farewell had been a knife in its own way, softened only by his promises to return alive.
He doubted he could return without injury, but death? He would not allow that.
He wore armor unlike his usual winter furs: bone-forged plates gifted by Elyon.
They were light yet strong and clung to his frame with elegance that made him look like a prince.
Beside him stood Medusa, composed and silent, holding her oversized Bone sword. On his other side was Anya, her posture rigid, her face unreadable.
Azel had expected Medusa to react violently upon hearing Edna’s pregnancy.
But strangely, she had not raged, nor sulked.
Instead, she was excited like she was waiting for it to happen.
Veyra, however... her absence made him worry.
’Focus ahead,’ Azel reminded himself, forcing his gaze toward the front.
He couldn’t afford distraction now.
Not here.
The warriors assembled in ranks, their numbers staggering. Azel had never thought he would see the day that so many gathered in one cause.
At their head, Patriarch Azariah strode forward. His presence alone commanded silence. The man’s twin bone swords, chained together by Elyon’s craft, gleamed with a pale luster.
He planted them in the snow with a ringing thud that echoed around.
Azariah’s voice cut through the cold like fire.
"Warriors of Winter!" His words boomed, shaking hearts as much as ears. "For too long, we have lived behind walls, clutching what little the Expanse allows us. For too long, the Divide has mocked us with its breaks, whispering that we are prisoners to our own fear!"
The crowd shifted, murmurs rippling, then dying as the Patriarch’s voice rose.
"But no more." His gaze swept across them and he smiled. "Today, we cross! Today, we take what should be ours! Today, we carve our mark upon the Divide, so that our children and our children’s children will know we were not slaves to snow and shadow!"
A roar built from the back, swelling until it consumed the gathering.
Some warriors wept openly, their tears nearly freezing upon their cheeks.
Others beat their chests or howled at the sky, their spirits burning hotter than the frost could smother.
"For Winter!"
The words rose in unison, echoing like thunder.
"For Winter!"
They would lay down their lives if asked. Azariah’s speech had lit the spark, and now the warriors burned with it.
The Patriarch raised his chained swords high.
A bright light engulfed the entire gathering, searing through the snow.
The world dissolved into brilliance, and when the light faded, the warriors stood at the edge of the Divide.
The storm greeted them like a beast, its winds screaming, its snow pelting against exposed skin.
The warriors’ battle states surged in response, eyes gleaming, muscles tensed, mana roaring to life.
Azariah lifted his blades once more and charged, his voice a rallying cry.
"For Winter!"
The warriors answered in kind, the ground trembling as they stormed forward.
Azel followed, his pace measured and his breath steady.
His eyes tracked his companions — Anya darting ahead with grace, Feng not far behind, joy lighting his face as he fought to keep up with Anthony.
Medusa’s hand tightened in his as she smiled, it warmed him heart too.
And then —
Another hand seized his free one.
Before Azel could react, lips pressed against his, a brief, burning contact that stole his breath and scattered his thoughts.
His eyes widened, but the storm’s fury swallowed all sight and sound.
The Divide took him.
Azel vanished beyond.