Chapter 502: Departing From Blessed Land [Bonus - ]

Chapter 502: Departing From Blessed Land [Bonus Chapter]

Silas looked down at the towering stack of containers with a warm reassuring smile curving his lips.

"Kaelia," Silas chuckled softly, reaching out and resting a heavy, gloved hand atop her wool cap, giving her an affectionate pat. "We’re mounting an extraction strike, not marching to the edge of the world but I appreciate it. Your cooking is the only reason this territory functions."

VUUUM!

Silas tapped into his spatial inventory and a shimmer of azure mana washed over the lacquer boxes, instantly dematerializing the three heavy containers and filing them into the stabilized pockets of his personal storage.

"See? Safe and sound," Silas assured her, withdrawing his hand. "We’ll be back before the week is out so keep the hearths stoked and the garrison fed."

"May the gods watch over your blade, Lord Silas," Kaelia murmured, offering a deep respectful bow before stepping back toward the heated portico. ’I really really really want to kiss him...’

Silas turned his head, letting his blue eyes sweep across the strike detachment assembled in the snow behind him.

It was a small formation as every single woman present had been chosen for extreme mobility or strategic versatility.

Mounted side-by-side upon two Blessed Wolves were Eluned and Morwenna.

The Goddess was clad in a traveling ensemble of dark emerald wool lined with white ermine fur with her long silver green hair braided tightly down her spine to keep it out of the wind.

She was casually conversing with the Pirate Queen, who sat slouched in her saddle with her heavy cutlass resting across her pommel with a rare relaxed smirk playing across her face.

The mutual hostility from the previous day seemed to have settled into a strange comfortable truce born of respect and perhaps the lingering aftershocks of too much dwarven stout.

A few paces to their left sat Aeliana.

The high-elf secretary was dressed in a pristine white high-collared shirt and fitted charcoal traveling trousers, tucked securely into knee-high riding boots.

Her striking silver-gold eyes flicked nervously across the snowy battlements, her small porcelain hands gripping the reins of her mount so tightly her knuckles were white.

She looked visibly jittery.

Silas understood her tension completely.

For a while, Aeli had been the secondary Lord so she was feeling a bit shy, Silas was sure once they were in the field she would calm down.

Beside Aeliana sat Kadi.

The Sand Mage was equally restless.

Dressed in her desert silks reinforced with lightweight steel plates, Kadi’s dark braids whipped in the icy wind.

She kept shifting in her saddle, checking the leather straps on her weapon belts with sharp twitchy movements.

She hadn’t been part of the primary mining crews yesterday, having spent the entire day nursing Talira through her draconic mana fever.

Being thrust directly into a strike team heading for the northern trenches had set her nerves on edge.

Positioned near the center of the formation was Aurelia.

The Saintess of the Argent Flame looked breathtakingly regal.

She sat tall atop her mount... the notoriously arrogant Blessed Wolf draped in light armor.

Despite the bitter chill, she wore no heavy furs as the imperceptible halo of the Argent Flame humming within her soul kept the air around her warm and fragrant.

Sensing Silas’s gaze, Aurelia turned her head, offering him a serene confident smile that instantly settled the nervous energy rippling through the ranks.

Riding alongside Aurelia was the Princess.

The royal maiden was bundled in a heavy fur-lined traveling mantle, her small hands fussing nervously with the leather buckles of her riding harness.

On her shoulder pauldron sat the obsidian bird, its beady eyes sharp and alert, acting as the living compass for the mission.

And rounding out the rear of the detachment were Tasmin and Thor.

Tasmin sat low in her saddle, cloaked in liquid shadows that seemed to swallow the gray morning light with her twin void-daggers resting securely in reverse-grip sheaths along her thighs.

Thor, however, had completely commandeered Titan... the Alpha of the original Blessed Wolf pack.

The Alpha was currently lying flat on its belly in the snow, letting out a series of tiny whimpering chuffs.

The towering blonde God of Thunder was sitting cross-legged across its broad shoulders, laughing boisterously as she aggressively scratched behind the beast’s ears with enough divine force to shake its entire skull.

"Gwahahaha! Who is a good mountain dog?! You are! Yes, you are!" Thor roared merrily, rubbing the Alpha’s snout until its tongue flopped sideways in submissive defeat.

Silas chuckled, shaking his head at the sight.

"Leave the poor beast alone, Thor. He needs his dignity to lead the charge."

Even Valkyrie was giving him weird looks...

CLANK-CLANK!

Heavy steel-toed footsteps echoed across the slush as the person marching toward them was Thora.

The dwarven forge master was bundled in a heavy leather shearling coat, her breath huffing in short bursts as she carried an enormous, iron-banded wooden crate in her arms.

"Hold your reins! Nobody moves an inch until you take these!" Thora barked, dropping the crate into the snow with a dull thud.

She kicked the lid open with her boot, revealing eight heavy folded cloaks of an entirely unfamiliar textile.

The fabric was stunning.

It possessed a deep midnight-black hue that seemed to absorb ambient light, woven from ultra-dense fibers, but layered throughout the weave was a shimmering microscopic network of liquid silver that caught the morning sun like a web of stars.

Silas dismounted, stepping through the snow to pick up the top garment.

The cloak was surprisingly lightweight, but the moment his fingers brushed the fabric, it felt a bit strange.

"What is this material, Thora?" Silas asked, rubbing the dense weave between his thumb and forefinger.

"The finest armor my foundry has ever produced, my Lord," Thora beamed proudly, crossing her thick arms over her chest. "The primary weave was crafted by our tailor using the synthetic material you brought back from your last supply run to the human world on Earth but that’s just the base. I took four hundred pounds of virgin Sil-Graves Silver, liquefied it in the plasma crucibles, and drew it into microscopic hair-thin runic threads."

She pointed a calloused finger at the silver webbing running through the dark wool.

"Those silver threads are woven directly into the structural lattice of the polymer," Thora explained. "It possesses dispersion so you could take a high-velocity siege bolt dead to the chest, and the impact would spread across the entire surface of the cloak like water hitting an anvil. Furthermore, Sil-Graves Silver is naturally immune to breaking apart and it also can keep you warm and protect from spells... It is the ultimate personal defense!"

Silas looked down at the masterpiece of synthetic engineering and magical metallurgy, a slow impressed smile spreading across his face.

"Incredible work, Thora," Silas said genuinely, reaching out and resting his palm atop the dwarf’s head, giving her rough hair a firm affectionate ruffle. "You’ve outdone yourself. Blessed Land’s industry is unmatched..."

Thora’s pale cheeks instantly flushed a brilliant, flustered pink. She coughed aggressively into her fist, swatting his hand away with a mumbled grumble, though her eyes were shining with dwarven pride.

"Hmph! Just make sure you bring it back without monster guts caked into the silver threads! Dry cleaning high-tier alloy is a nightmare!"

Silas took the cloaks, walking down the line and distributing them to the strike team.

Eluned draped hers gracefully over her shoulders, the midnight fabric contrasting beautifully with her emerald hair.

Morwenna ran her thumb over the silver weave with a quiet, appreciative whistle, while Aeli and Kadi fastened their brooches with visible relief, the protective weight immediately easing their morning jitters.

Silas fastened his own cloak around his neck, letting the silver-threaded wool fall over his armor like a shadow.

They were entering the forbidden depths of the Umbral Basin as the northern trenches were populated by Tier 4 and Tier 5 monsters.

In a zone like that, there was no such thing as being too prepared as the stronger they were, the better their chances of survival.

’Though I’m not sure we’re going to die... It’s not like we’re going to pick a fight with the monsters there.’ Silas thought.

They were going for the goddess, and if they were attacked on the way, what did they have to do... Just kill a few beasts right?

Silas turned his gaze toward the front, standing near the Spirit trees with her massive Titan’s Cleaver strapped across her back, was Brida.

Silas had debated taking her along.

Her raw physical power and devastating shockwave attacks were unmatched among his vanguard but high-tier expeditions required cold discipline.

More importantly... a territory could not be left leaderless.

Behind Tasmin and Aeli... Brida was the next in line for operational authority.

She possessed the respect of everyone, the combat instincts of a veteran officer, and an unshakeable loyalty to his person.

Silas trusted her with his life, and he trusted her with his home.

Brida marched forward with her heavy boots crunching into the permafrost, stopping three paces before Silas.

She snapped her right fist against her chestplate in a sharp immaculate military salute.

CLANG!

"Brida," Silas addressed her. "Are the defenses prepared?"

"All sectors secure, my Lord!" Brida reported loudly, her amber eyes burning with fierce, disciplined focus. "The northern and southern walls are fully manned. Furthermore, every single recruit and officer on the line has been stamped with the Genesis Runes across their knuckles..."

She raised her right gauntlet, showing the intricate glowing green runes etched into the metal plates over her fingers.

"If any monster attack occurs, the girls can trigger an immediate cellular regeneration surge to stabilize fatal wounds and kill their opponents. We are locked down tight."

Silas looked at her steady, unblinking gaze, letting out a soft satisfied breath.

"Thank you, Brida," Silas said softly. "I’m sorry you have to stay behind while we march north. I know how much you wanted to swing your cleaver today..."

Brida lowered her salute.

Her fierce battle-hardened expression softened as a sudden emotional warmth rose in her eyes.

She took a step forward, closing the distance, and wrapped her strong armored arms around Silas’s torso in a fierce tight embrace.

THUD.

Her cheek pressed against the thick wolf fur of his collar with her breath warm against his neck.

"Do not apologize, my Lord," Brida whispered. "To be trusted with your walls... to be trusted with your home while you walk into the dark... there is no greater honor for a woman . I am honored that you thought of me for this position so I swear upon my blood, not a single pebble will be displaced from Blessed Land while you are gone."

Silas smiled gently, wrapping his arms around her broad shoulders and returning the hug with firm reassuring pressure.

He leaned back slightly, looked into her glowing amber eyes, and pressed a soft lingering kiss directly onto her forehead.

SMOOCH!

Brida froze as her breath completely hitched in her throat.

Her eyes dilated, and a furious wave of crimson exploded across her cheeks, traveling all the way down to her collarbone.

"Ahem~"

From the saddle of her mount three paces away, Eluned cleared her throat with an exaggerated pointed cough as her emerald eyes narrowed into a jealous squint.

Silas chuckled, releasing the trembling woman and stepping smoothly back toward Valkyrie.

He vaulted into the saddle with fluid grace, settling his boots into the stirrups.

He pulled the heavy,silver-threaded hood over his dark hair, shadowing his face, leaving only the piercing golden-blue gleam of his eyes visible beneath the brim.

He drew the golden blade three inches from its scabbard, the raw mana flaring along the steel like a sunburst.

SHING!

"Strike detachment!" Silas roared. "Form standard wedge! Eyes sharp and pace steady! Forward march!"

HOWOOOOOOOOOL!

The Blessed Wolves answered with a unified bone-chilling howl that shook the snow from the eaves.

Pounding across the frozen gravel, the eight mounts surged forward, tearing through the inner courtyard.

They shot past the towering Spirit Trees, their silver-furred bodies moving with terrifying effortless speed, before thundering through the massive opened iron gates of Blessed Land, heading straight into the lightless frozen horrors of the northern Umbral Basin.

KRRRRRR-CLANG.

Behind them, the colossal iron-banded gates groaned on their massive hinges, swinging shut with a concussive final boom that sealed the territory tight.

Left standing alone in the center of the quiet snow-dusted courtyard, Brida remained completely motionless.

The cold wind whipped her hair across her face, but she didn’t feel the chill.

Her forehead was burning as if branded by a holy flame.

Her cheeks were a radiant shade of beet-red and her breath was coming in short gasps that plumed into the morning air.

Slowly, almost unconsciously, her hand drifted down from her chestplate with her trembling fingers pressing gently between her thighs through the thick fabric of her leather breeches.

A grin split across her flushed face.

’He kissed me...’ Brida thought with her heart slamming against her ribs like a berserker’s war drum. ’Right on the forehead... in front of the entire squad...’

Her fingers twitched, pressing a fraction firmer against her crotch as her mind began to spiral into wild sinful fantasies.

’He left me in charge... I am the temporary Lord of Blessed Land... which means... technically... I am the Lord’s acting wife right now...’

She swallowed hard, looking back toward the towering silent expanse of the Keep.

’Will it be okay... if I sneak into his private chambers... wrap myself in his unwashed bedsheets... and use Master’s smell to get it off...?’

A soft breathless moan escaped her parted lips as a shiver of ecstasy rippled through her spine.

She turned on her heel with her boots practically floating across the snow as she marched eagerly toward the Keep’s entrance, her eyes glazed with lewd anticipation.

’Best day...’ Brida purred inwardly, hugging herself tightly. ’...EVER~!’