Chapter 775: Greymark Encampment

The sun bore down relentlessly on the Golden Desert’s residents. The air was sweltering and the sand burned any bare skin it touched. Villagers hid in their clay-made homes, travelers sought shelter in tents or under whatever shade they could find. The lucky few were near an oasis, the water cooling the air and ground around it. The unlucky many were left stranded in an ocean of sand. Shade did little to protect them from the sun and with the destruction of various roads after the midnight sun, many travelers were left to wander aimlessly until they collapsed from thirst or heatstroke.

There was one traveler who walked the sands bereft of any mount, gear, or even water. Yet he was not afraid of the unknown or the heat of the desert. He appeared to be a lone man, but he was not a man at all.

Sidus strode through the sand, each step filled with a little more stubbornness and anger than the last. His cloak was nothing more than tatters and covered in the dried red blood of the sune warriors who helped his brother and quarry escape. Worse was the dark ichor that stained his shirt from where Stryg had slit his throat. The little bastard had really believed it was enough to kill him.

The arrogance. To believe a mere sword could kill him, a Lord of Death. Melantha had tried to kill him. Holo had gotten close. Both had failed. If the greatest scientist and greatest mage in the Mortem Order could not kill him, what hope did a child have?

Sidus clenched his jaw and curled his fist as he stared out at the horizon. He wanted to slice his brother’s throat and see him squirm on the ground as blood poured down his chest. The thought gave Sidus little pleasure, less than he imagined it would.

As much as he wanted revenge on the insubordinate, little bastard, deep down Sidus knew why he was actually so angry. His own incompetence. Sidus had once prided himself on being the strongest warrior among the Mortem Order, not because of his innate gifts, but because he had trained harder than anyone to be stronger than all of them. It was no different in the new Order he served. The Order’s Master had granted him the rank and title Zero because he was the strongest.

Yet at some point, Sidus had grown arrogant. He had seen Stryg and considered him little more than an infant; weak from igniting the Astral Light, a power Stryg could hardly comprehend, let alone control. Yet that stumbling fool of an infant had somehow managed to hold his own against Sidus and even wounded him.

Excuses rang in Sidus’ head. He had been holding back against Stryg. Sidus had underestimated him. Excuse after excuse flitted past. Each one rang more hollow than the last. It did not matter if they were true. The only truth that mattered was that Stryg had managed to wound him. It shouldn’t have happened. Even worse, Stryg had escaped, along with the girl.

“Fuck,” Sidus muttered. He pulled down his shirt and stared at the faint silver scar that remained above his heart. A titan’s body could recover from almost any injury. It certainly wouldn’t leave a scar. Yet there it was. A scar made from a broken blade he did not know or understand. Sidus had never seen anything like it, not even his father had such a weapon in his personal collection. What was it? And how did someone like Stryg get his hand on it? Had their father given it to him?

Questions without answers weighed on him like anchors upon a ship as Sidus wandered through the desert, until he spotted a rather large encampment situated at the base of a large dune. The shadow of the dune made for a rather feeble protection for the camp, but it was the best they had. For now, Sidus thought.

A part of him considered reverting to a more accommodating size, to stand as an equal to the mortals, but he quickly decided against it. He was tired of pretending. He was a god and he would walk this realm as one.

Sidus took his time as he strolled down the steep dune, practically gliding over the sand. Gravity held no sway over his movement. As he drew closer, he noticed a banner flying above the camp, its coat of arms a grey owl, wings spread over a dark blue field.

So they were a religious house; with plenty of gold, if the enchanted silk tents and several dozen soldiers in gleaming armour rushing at him were any indication.

“Stop!” One of the soldiers shouted. Sidus could only assume he was the captain from the way the others reacted to his voice, though there was nothing distinct in his armour to distinguish him as such.

Nonetheless, Sidus made no effort to halt.

“If you come any closer, we’ll cut you down where you stand.” At the captain’s words, the soldiers all drew their swords and readied their shields.

“What is going on?” A woman stumbled out of her tent, hair strewn about, silk embroidered clothes askew, eyes blinking blearily from the sunlight. So this was the lady of the camp and the charge of every soldier here, Sidus guessed.

Was she a merchant princess, traveling from one city to another? No, there were too few wagons for wares and all these men appeared to be soldiers, rather than merchants. This was more like a war party, except there was a noble lady here. Why? Sidus was curious to find out.

As he came closer to the camp, one of the soldiers shouted and pointed at Sidus’ feet. “There aren’t any footprints!”

The rest turned to look and found only unblemished sand behind the stranger.

“A spirit?” The captain frowned.

Another soldier rushed him, sword held high, war cry on her lips. She refused to let any threat come closer to her mistress.

“Wait!” the captain shouted, but it was too late.

She swung her sword down at Sidus’ neck. He didn’t deign to look at her when he caught the blade and snapped it as if it were nothing more than a twig. The soldier stared down at her broken sword and up at the stranger in confused horror. Without breaking his stride, he tapped her forehead and sent a large pulse of chaos mana into her brain. She seized up and collapsed, twitching as the whites of her eyes were dyed red.

The soldiers stumbled back at the sight. The captain shook his head. “S-Steady yourselves. Shield wall! Mages at the back!”

“Wall!” shouted another soldier, echoed by several others soon after. In moments, the soldiers formed a shield wall. Swords and spears were aimed at Sidus, ready to attack if he came closer. The threat of steel did nothing to deter him. Sidus continued walking.

“Fire!” shouted the captain.

Five mages raised their hands and conjured bolts of lightning and fire. A single wing sprouted from Sidus’ back and wrapped around him like a shield. The flames and lightning struck the silver feathers and dissipated harmlessly. The wing pulled back and dissolved into a swirl of blue light. With a snap of his fingers, Sidus conjured an orb of light above his head. Like a crown, it shone over him before spewing beams of energy that punched a scorching hole through the heads of the mages.

The captain stared in stunned disbelief at the five smoking corpses lying at his feet, the blood draining from his face.

“Sir. He’s coming closer. What are your orders? Sir!” yelled one of the soldiers.

The captain looked up at the monster striding towards them. He swallowed hard. “Demon.”

“Let him pass!” demanded the noblewoman in a voice that brooked no dispute.

The soldiers held their weapons close and shared an uncertain look amongst each other, but when they turned back and saw their lady’s stern gaze, they lowered their weapons and parted as Sidus walked into camp.

“That is no demon,” the noblewoman said, her eyes gleaming in awe and interest.

Sidus walked up to her until she was standing right in front of him. He stood three meters tall. She had to crane her neck all the way up just to meet his eyes. A pair of horns, narrow and sharp, grew from the sides of her head, while another pair sprouted from behind her ears and curled around her hair, forming a crown-like appearance.

“I take it you’re the one in charge?” Sidus asked.

She immediately dropped to her knees and prostrated herself, forehead planted on the hot sand. “This mere mortal is the captain of this encampment, my lord.”

Captain? Sidus wondered to himself. Then who was the man shouting the orders before?

As if to answer his questions, the noblewoman raised her head long enough to glare at the ‘captain.’ “What are you doing? Kneel, Lieutenant. All of you kneel! You are in the presence of divinity.”

Ah, so it was a lieutenant, Sidus thought.

The man in question stared at Sidus, fear clear in his eyes, but he did as he was told and slowly planted his knees on the sand. The rest of the soldiers followed along. Satisfied, Sidus decided to spare the man and his soldiers. A mortal who could follow orders could be useful right now.

“What is your name, woman?” Sidus planted his foot on the noblewoman’s head and leaned a smidge of his weight on her.

She grimaced as her forehead sank into the hot sand. “I am Victoria, daughter of House Greymark. I have the honor to serve as a captain in the army of the Greymarks’ liege, House Clarus.” She tried her best to keep her voice steady, though it sounded pained.

“Clarus?” Sidus mused. It seemed not everything was lost. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the desert?”

Victoria licked her lips. “We were pursuing fugitives from Olduun. We cornered them in Red Pond, a small town to the north. We were attacked by realm travelers.”

“Realm travelers? What were they doing in the desert?” Sidus asked.

“They were searching for a companion of theirs, I believe.”

“What was the companion’s name?”

“I do not know, but I remember the woman who asked for him. Tauri. Of House Veres. She was an orc.”

“Veres…?” Sidus couldn’t help but grin. He raised his foot off Victoria’s head.

She sighed in relief before continuing her story. “We were engaged in battle with the realm travelers when the Midnight Sun struck. Half my men were lost in the blast. I gathered what was left of us and began our journey back to Olduun in order to regroup.”

“Change of plans. From now on you will be serving at my pleasure,” Sidus said.

Victoria dared to look up at him, a small smile forming on her lips. “I live to serve the divine. My house has worshiped the Owls of Death since our founding. Command me, and I will march to the ends of the realm in your name.”

“My name? You do not even know it.” He cocked an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t be so presumptuous as to demand a god for his name.”

“You are wise to know your place, mortal. You may call me Sidus.”

“Lord Sidus.” She nodded hesitantly. “What are your orders?”

“Gather your men. We move at dusk.”