Chapter 5: Chaos
1085 Words
“Lord Cross, are you all right?”
“Don’t come any closer, Gawain!” Cross barked, his harsh tone freezing Gawain in place. The latter dared not move.
The pain in Cross’s legs did not subside — it grew even more intense.
Gritting his teeth, Cross forced himself upright. When he lifted the cloak covering his legs, a horrifying sight revealed itself: his calves were completely veined with writhing strands of blood. Even Gawain was so terrified he fell backward onto the ground.
Bloodline backlash!
Cross instantly knew the cause of the pain. He pulled out a vial of mana potion and dripped the liquid onto his legs.
The moment the blue potion touched the blood threads, it was devoured instantly — yet the agony eased somewhat.
Suppressing the backlash completely consumed nearly a quarter of the potion. That realization filled Cross with unease.
Ever since reading the necromancer’s letter, he had only one thought — to return home as soon as possible to stop Endless Reincarnation’s plot. He had not agreed with Gawain’s plan to take the long and perilous route through the Twilight Mountains; to him, it was nothing more than Gawain’s selfish whim.
But now, after enduring the bloodline backlash, his thoughts changed.
He realized that as a mere foster son of the House of Clain, he had no reason to sacrifice everything for that territory. He had been away for twelve years; he held no power, no allies, and even if he wanted to expose Endless Reincarnation’s conspiracy, he lacked the means to act.
More importantly, the bloodline was now awakened — and its backlash would haunt him forever. His five bottles of mana potion would not last long. Once they ran out, death would come swiftly.
And Cross had no intention of dying.
He knew well that searching for mana potions alone would be slow and difficult. But with a faction—a power base—things would be different. A faction could gather resources quickly, locate more potions, or even secretly produce them. If he could master that craft himself, he would no longer have to fear the bloodline’s curse.
The thought brought a faint, wicked smile to his face.
Before him, Gawain was still trembling. “M-my lord… you—”
Cross glanced at him, still smiling. “After I entered the Military Academy, my body started showing certain symptoms. What you just saw is called Blood Coagulation Syndrome. When it flares up, the affected part hurts terribly, but the pain subsides with the right medicine.”
“Will it spread?!”
“No. If it were contagious, the Academy would’ve expelled me long ago. I only told you not to come near because… well, the symptoms are rather unsightly.”
Hearing this, Gawain sighed in relief, sitting up straighter. “Lord Cross, your fate truly has been unfortunate.”
“You’re saying that too early, Gawain,” Cross said calmly. “Save it until after we’ve crossed the Twilight Mountains.”
Gawain chuckled softly.
Seeing that Gawain had accepted the “Blood Coagulation” story, Cross couldn’t help admiring his own quick wit—and Gawain’s gullibility. This excuse might come in handy later.
Then the two men, carrying torches and swords, stepped into the Twilight Mountains.
Night deepened. After walking for a while, they found a clearing to rest.
Suddenly, Gawain asked, “Lord Cross, may I ask you a question?”
“Ask.”
“Why are you here?”
Cross froze, taken aback by the question. His mind raced.
Had the news of his assassination already spread throughout the Clain Territory?
Impossible. If that were true, Endless Reincarnation could never hope to use his body to seize control of the land.
That meant Gawain’s question was a simple one — he truly couldn’t understand why a student of the Imperial Military Academy was here in the borderlands.
“I was ambushed by assassins,” Cross said casually. “Barely escaped with my life. I had to take a detour through this region.”
He knew a good lie should be short and simple — the shorter, the fewer flaws.
Gawain’s eyes widened in shock.
Though Cross was two years younger, he had always carried himself with a composure and maturity beyond his age. When Cross had slain three enemy soldiers earlier, Gawain hadn’t been too surprised — only impressed by his skill.
But now, hearing Cross speak of surviving an assassination as if it were nothing, Gawain’s admiration turned to awe. In that moment, he fully believed the rumors spreading through the territory.
“Lord Cross,” Gawain said, “have you heard the rumors about you in the Clain lands?”
Cross shook his head.
“They say you’re the rightful heir — the one destined to restore the Clain Territory to its former glory.”
Cross smirked. He immediately recognized the rumor as a manipulation by Endless Reincarnation. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”
“I do.”
The conviction in Gawain’s voice caught Cross by surprise. For a coward driven by self-interest, Gawain was turning out to be unexpectedly… loyal.
“Lord Cross,” Gawain continued, “do you know why I fled Fort Everfall for Copperhill Town?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you,” said Cross. “Ordinary deserters don’t prepare escape routes in advance.”
“Lord Cross, the current ruler of the Clain lands is your uncle — Joey Clain.”
“So that’s why chaos erupted,” Cross said coldly. “Joey has usurped the title.”
“Damn him! He reassigned me from a noble court swordsman to a mere guard at Everfall! He’ll face divine punishment one day. My flight is simply obedience to the will of the gods. You understand, don’t you, my lord?”
Cross smiled faintly but said nothing. To him, all that talk of divine will was just a convenient excuse for Gawain’s self-interest.
As for Joey — Cross knew his uncle would not stop at demoting one man. Gawain was merely one of many victims of Joey’s coup.
His uncle had moved too hastily. That impatience had thrown the Clain lands into turmoil — and Cross knew the so-called rebels were merely those branded as traitors by Joey himself.
Cross wanted to learn more about this rebel force, but Gawain knew little. All he knew was that the Clain Territory was now drowning in chaos.
And chaos — was precisely what Cross needed.
- Writer
