Chapter 4 — Fort Everfall
1345 Words
Silver-Eyed Klos—
That was the name most people in the count’s manor only dared to whisper behind closed doors.
Rumors had long circulated about whether Klos was truly the Count’s biological son. After all, his silver eyes and his father’s blue ones made their difference unmistakable.
When Klos’s true lineage was finally exposed—and combined with his rare, unmistakable silver eyes—his name spread like wildfire. Silver-Eyed Klos quickly became the favorite topic of gossip across the Klein domain, a story told in taverns and marketplaces alike.
Even neighboring territories and the Syada Kingdom beyond had heard of him.
But if Klos had no right of succession, then the plan to use his resurrected corpse to seize control of the Klein lands made no sense at all.
Yet from the tone of the necromancer’s letter, the organization Endless Reincarnation seemed entirely confident in their plan.
To create chaos, then?
The thought struck Klos like a bolt of lightning.
It made sense—Endless Reincarnation could take advantage of the Count’s death and the heir’s youth to plunge the domain into turmoil, then slowly take control amid the confusion.
The situation was dire.
Time was short.
Klos had to return to his homeland as quickly as possible.
Food, a dagger, and five vials of mana potion—
After changing into a black cloak, Klos left the cabin, carrying only what he needed.
Night travel through the forest was treacherous; it was easy to lose one’s bearings.
But Klos had studied at the Imperial Military Academy—reading terrain and judging direction was second nature to him. He also knew that the necromancer’s hidden lair wasn’t far from Fort Everfall.
As he moved through the night, he began to feel the true strength of the bloodline that now pulsed within him. His speed and reflexes were sharper than ever; his stamina, vastly greater. Even after running hard for miles, he felt no exhaustion.
The power in his veins had already pushed him beyond the limits of any ordinary man.
After hours of travel, he reached open ground—
and froze.
The plains below were awash in firelight.
Such large-scale flames could only mean one thing—an army.
Fort Everfall was under attack.
Klos’s brows knitted tightly. He understood at once that the fortress was in grave danger.
Fort Everfall was famed for being easy to defend and nearly impossible to capture.
The fact that the enemy had dared to launch such an assault meant that something was terribly wrong inside the fortress itself.
He had no time to waste.
If Fort Everfall fell, he would lose his only way back to his homeland.
With his silver eyes, he could never pass through an enemy army’s inspection unnoticed.
There was only one choice left—
he had to reach Fort Everfall before the battle truly began.
He broke into a full sprint down the mountain.
But before he reached the foothills, the sounds of battle shattered the night.
The clash of steel.
The screams of men.
The siege had begun.
Klos’s heart sank.
Fools!
The fortress commander had abandoned the safety of the high, solid walls to meet the enemy on open ground.
That decision meant only one thing—
Fort Everfall would fall before dawn.
When Klos finally emerged from the Twilight Mountains, the battle below was already ending.
The army of Syada had won.
In the distance, fires devoured what remained of Fort Everfall.
Closer by, several torches were moving toward him.
Klos ducked behind a large tree, watching silently.
As the lights drew near, he could make out three Syadan soldiers with swords and torches chasing a single unarmed man in battered armor.
“Surrender!” one of the soldiers shouted. “Fort Everfall has fallen—you have nowhere left to run!”
The pursuers were clearly Syadan soldiers. The fleeing man, naturally, was one of Fort Everfall’s defenders.
The lone soldier ignored their shouts and kept running—straight toward Klos’s position.
Then, suddenly, he stumbled and fell.
Whether from exhaustion or from tripping on a stone, Klos couldn’t tell. The man slammed his fist against the ground in frustration and cursed.
“Damn it!”
There was bitterness in his voice—he didn’t want to surrender, but he no longer had a choice.
The three pursuers quickly closed in.
But before they could reach their prey, Klos moved.
He burst from the shadows, closing the distance in a blink.
His dagger flashed once—clean and precise—slitting the throat of the nearest soldier before the man could even cry out.
Klos caught the dying man’s sword as he fell, spun, and struck again.
Another soldier—one clean stroke, the blade slicing through his neck entirely.
The third soldier froze, horror flashing in his eyes—
but by then it was already too late.
In the span of seconds, all three Syadan soldiers lay dead.
Klos stood among them, silent as the moonlight—a phantom cloaked in shadow and blood.
The surviving defender stared up at him, trembling. His eyes were wide with terror.
“T-the demon of the Twilight Mountains…!” he stammered.
Klos said nothing. He stepped forward, pressing the sword’s tip against the man’s throat. Fresh blood still dripped from the blade, running down onto the soldier’s neck.
“Why were you running?” Klos asked, his voice as cold as winter steel.
The killing intent in his tone froze the man’s tongue.
He couldn’t speak—until he looked up and saw those silver eyes.
Recognition dawned on his face.
“Lord Klos!? It’s me—Gawain! I’m Gawain!”
Klos withdrew the sword slightly.
“Gawain? The same Gawain I used to fight with as a boy?”
“You still remember, Lord Klos,” Gawain said, his voice trembling between relief and disbelief.
Klos picked up a fallen torch, its flickering light illuminating the man’s face.
Yes—this was indeed Gawain, one of his childhood playmates.
Cowardly, timid, but familiar.
“Why are you here?” Klos asked. He didn’t bother scolding the man for fleeing—if Gawain hadn’t run, that would have been surprising.
“Lord Klos, I’ll explain everything later. The enemy will be combing the area soon—we need to move, now!”
“Where to?”
“Copperhill Town.”
The answer made Klos raise an eyebrow.
Copperhill lay to the west of the Klein domain, bordering the Twilight Mountains. It was rich in copper mines—hence the name.
Given the situation, reaching it directly through Fort Everfall was impossible.
That left only one option—to cross the Twilight Mountains themselves.
Now Klos understood why Gawain had fled this way.
Once they entered the mountain range, the enemy would never follow.
No one dared.
Even the Syadans knew the mountains were cursed.
It was a clever plan—
if only anyone had ever survived the crossing.
“Crossing the Twilight Mountains is madness,” Klos said quietly. “Do you have a plan, Gawain?”
Gawain stood, pulling a roll of parchment from his leather armor.
“Yes, my lord. A map—our route.”
“Has anyone ever taken this path before?”
“…No, my lord.”
“Then why Copperhill? Blackwater Town is closer.”
“You don’t know, my lord—Blackwater has already fallen to the rebels. Their forces haven’t yet reached Copperhill. And… that town is my fief.”
“Rebels?” Klos’s voice hardened. “What rebels?”
“I—I don’t know the details,” Gawain stammered.
Klos frowned.
Things were worse than he’d feared.
The Klein domain was now facing both invasion and rebellion.
Then, without warning, a wave of agony shot through his legs.
Klos gasped and fell to the ground, a cry tearing from his throat—
“Aaaah!”
The pain was searing, violent—
and before he could make sense of it, his body gave out, and darkness began to swallow him once again.
- Writer
