179 - Forge of the Iron Will

After they retrieved The Hill's head, along with all the magical artifacts and valuable weapons from the other Templars and priests, the five set out on their journey back to Tinaver.

They moved at great speed through the mountainous terrain and then across the vast plains of Milis.

Lerov carried an enormous satchel filled with all the collected items, which jingled with every leap and movement—brimming with weapons, enchanted trinkets, and relics.

Along the way, as they talked and caught each other up on everything that had happened over the past six years, Rygar had time to observe more closely the small and large changes in each of his companions.

His master, Verdia, was just as beautiful and cheerful as the last time he had seen her.

If Rygar had to note a difference, it would be that her golden hair seemed to shine more brilliantly than he remembered… but perhaps it was only his imagination.

More than her beauty, another thing that now caught his attention was the arsenal she carried.

She was armed with various magical items that Rygar had never seen her use before.

All kinds of magical gear: a bow, a blade, garments, rings, and even a staff.

Curious, Rygar asked about the items and discovered that they were equipment she had used during the Laplace War four hundred years ago. He was surprised.

Even though he thought he knew his elven master well, it became clear that Verdia still held a few secrets.

For example, the fact that she had now decided to serve as the strategist of the Iron Legion. When had this happened? Wasn't she going to travel the world? How did she end up involved in the war?

Questions piled up in his mind, but he decided to leave them for later. After everything was settled, he would have plenty of time to sit and hear every detail.

Fortunately, contrary to his irrational fears, Verdia still felt the same fondness for him. No—in fact, she seemed even happier to see him than he remembered.

She was assertive, curious about his journey, and seemed genuinely interested in every revelation he made. In any case, the reunion with his master exceeded any expectation he had built up.

Kilian, in turn, was more or less the same as Taes. Both were more mature, more powerful.

At that time, he had left them in sensitive positions, trusting that he had taught them enough, believing in their potential.

After all, even though they were young, in this world people generally matured quickly to survive war and life's cruelty.

Both had already been formidable warriors back then. But now… now they were true leaders.

However, unlike Taes, Kilian seemed to have grown more serious.

His initial reaction upon seeing Rygar broke him out of that reserved demeanor, but every description Rygar had heard along the way painted him as a strict commander, a military man ruthless to enemies and to anyone who disrespected the Legion.

It was understandable. To deal with the arrogant and irrational tribal leaders of the Great Forest, that kind of stance was probably necessary. And, by all indications, it had worked.

Pursena had become a splendid warrior. She would likely be as strong as Kilian and Taes if she continued to grow. Perhaps even surpass them.

But there was one problem: both she and Linia were, by nature, a bit lazy.

Kilian did his best to drag them through training and wouldn't let them slack off, but he hadn't been able to change their personalities.

Despite this, both had a strong sense of duty toward the Great Forest and the Iron Legion.

That commitment, combined with their talent and 'noble' lineage, earned them the nickname "Warrior Princesses of the Great Forest."

Both Kilian and Pursena were eager to hear about Rygar's journey. Kilian treated him with respect, as if he stood before his commander.

Pursena, on the other hand, had a sharp tongue but was restrained by Kilian whenever she overstepped. It was evident that the two had grown very close in recent years.

And then there was the demon, Lerov.

Rygar had already heard his story; he knew of his deeds and his reasons for joining the Legion, but that didn't mean he fully trusted him.

But that changed largely during that battle.

Seeing Lerov fighting fiercely alongside Verdia, Kilian, and Pursena—without a second thought of abandoning them—left a positive impression on him.

If he had any ill intent, no matter how absurd it seemed, that would have been the perfect moment to back out, flee, or even betray them. But he stayed. And that spoke volumes about his character.

Lerov didn't speak much to Rygar on the way back, but he showed respect. Especially after the display of power Rygar had put on.

On the whole, Rygar was pleasantly surprised by the Iron Legion's growth during the years he'd been away.

He had worked tirelessly to lay the organization's foundations, guide its philosophy, and establish its pillars.

But in the end, most of the work—the hardest part—was not done entirely by him. And yet, at least for Verdia, Kilian, and Pursena, everything the Legion had become was Rygar's merit.

And perhaps… they were not entirely wrong.

Since childhood, Rygar had united the younger generation of the Dedoldia and Adoldia tribes under his banner.

He offered training, taught magic, shared knowledge that should not have existed in that world—knowledge brought from his previous life—and created a place where everyone could grow.

In truth, for the Great Forest, the real differentiator of the Iron Legion in its early days was not its strength or the number of members.

It was the unity around a singular talent, a guiding star that illuminated the way even in the darkest times. A boy who, at under ten years old, could devastate entire forests and face Saint-level warriors. Rygar was the cornerstone.

The living force that prevented the Legion from being crushed by traditional powers—whether nobles, religious orders, or underworld organizations.

It was a power that inspired, that united. A presence that could not be ignored, a name that could not be forgotten.

And even after he departed, the seeds he planted germinated. Those he trained continued to advance.

Those who witnessed his might remained united, applying his teachings. The training system, the chain of command, the strategic pillars, the numerous allies—all of it stemmed from the groundwork he had laid.

Rygar did not see himself in such an impressive light.

To him, he had merely used the gifts he received upon reincarnating into that world and combined them with the technical knowledge from his past life.

The results were far greater than he anticipated… but they were necessary. Had the Legion not grown as it did, had it not strengthened as it did, it would never have withstood the advances of the Milis Holy Country.

But now, none of that mattered as much as before. He had made his journey. He had become stronger—much stronger. Now that he had returned, it was time to use that strength.

Not just to win battles, but to eliminate all his enemies. To protect those he held dear. To build, with his own hands, a safe haven for all who chose to follow him.

----

In the coming days, a forced truce was established along all battlefronts across the Milis Continent.

Both forces pulled back temporarily—for different reasons, but related to a single person.

The Iron Legion and its allies had received a direct summons from the Beast God for a war council.

Perhaps, in other times, some commanders and leaders would hesitate to abandon their positions or refuse such a call.

But this was before.

Before Rygar Adoldia had crossed dozens of battlefields, slaughtered entire armies, and humiliated generals with seemingly inexhaustible, indestructible power. After that, no one dared to disobey his command.

It helped that Taes, Kilian, and even Ornthorn had always pointed to Rygar as the true leader of the Legion.

His authority was now almost absolute, even among allies who did not know him personally.

Thus, leaving only the minimum number needed to maintain basic defenses at each outpost, at least one representative from each fortress, citadel, or garrison converged at high speed toward Tinaver.

All knew that the war was about to turn on its head.

Now, alongside the Iron Legion, they would have the Beast God, Rygar Adoldia.

And not only him: the Sword Emperor, Ghislaine Dedoldia; the Sword King, Eris Greyrat; the magnificent Red Dragon, Ezkalor; and an Ebony Wolf, Skoll.

All of them came in the company of the Beast God.

The Legion seethed with excitement. The veterans stirred. The youngest waited in eager anticipation.

Everyone's imagination swelled at the possibilities brought by their new leader—the one who had returned from the Sword Sanctuary with the force of a cataclysm.

Legion morale had never been higher. Tinaver, once merely a tactical center, now became the site of a gathering sure to mark a turning point in the war.

Milis, on the other hand, bled. Its forces suffered severe losses due to the "Counter-Crusade" carried out by the Beast God.

There were no total exterminations, but the damage to the vanguards was heavy enough to leave a strategic gap that would take time to fill. Several fronts had been broken by Rygar.

Seasoned troops fell. Templars, paladins, holy knights—all were targeted and decimated as he advanced like a force of nature.

Still, Milis was no ordinary nation. It was a military powerhouse in this world.

Even with the recent enormous losses, it lacked neither soldiers nor commanders to replenish its ranks. The noble Houses answered the call. Entire cities went on alert.

Reserve troops began to mobilize. But the continent of Milis was vast, and forming a new frontline would take time—days, weeks, even months before the armies could regroup and counterattack in full force.

Therefore, the Milis armies withdrew out of strategic necessity. Many commanders heard rumors.

The name "Beast God" began circulating across the plains and through the halls of churches.

Some troops' morale wavered. There was uncertainty. There was tension. And there was fear, even if muffled by fanatic prayers.

But the Church knew how to handle it. They were doing an excellent job of covering their losses and masking their defeats.

They spread word that The Hill, Milis's sacred hero, had died protecting the Nikolaus River from being poisoned by demonic forces.

They claimed he had faced the Beast God in battle, sacrificing himself to avert an even greater disaster.

And, as if that were not enough, they announced that the Divine Warrior, Galgard, was marching to the front, swearing he would tear the Beast God's head from his shoulders and crush his followers.

Milis was preparing. The stakes had escalated. The war was about to enter a new phase.

---

Inside Milis's White Palace, silence reigned in the vast hall lit by sacred stained glass, as Pope Lucios read a letter from House Graveyard with slow, cold deliberation.

His eyes scanned each line with deliberate, frigid care.

Beside him, the White Knight stood erect and silent. Then, in an instant, his hand moved like lightning to the hilt of his sword.

An intense, murderous aura spread through the chamber, slicing the air with pure hostility. His gaze swept the room with extreme focus, as if trying to pinpoint something—or someone—invisible. The hall seemed empty except for the two of them.

Without shifting his eyes from the letter, the Pope murmured with disinterest:

"Mion?"

His voice echoed through the empty hall. For a moment, there was dense silence, until finally a hoarse voice replied:

"Yes…"

The White Knight relaxed his stance slightly, but tension still rippled through his body. The surprised expression on his face—partly hidden by his helm—made it clear he had not detected the intruder.

If this had been a real assassination attempt, how easy it would have been to kill the Pope?

Out of nowhere, as if emerging from the shadows, a figure in a black cloak appeared. A hood covered their head, and a white mask etched with runes concealed their face.

Almost dried blood seeped from the cloak, dripping slowly onto the floor now that the garment's magical concealment had fully dissipated.

Pope Lucios frowned, barely hiding his annoyance.

"Were you wounded, Mion?"

The masked figure, in a rough, measured voice, replied:

"Your Holiness, yes… I was. The target did not detect me with his senses, but he unleashed lightning across the entire mountain range where he suspected I might be."

Lucios dropped the letter into his lap and stared at the masked visitor.

"Tell me everything you saw."

Mion knelt before the Pope and began to recount every detail of the ambush at the Nikolaus River.

They narrated the colossal scale of magic, the use of demon eyes, the absolute mastery of the battlefield, and how Rygar easily handled Milis's hero, The Hill.

The report was thorough, each detail carefully laid out. The chamber remained in complete silence throughout the testimony.

When Mion finished, the Pope leaned back in his chair and was silent for a few seconds, as if in deep thought. Then he whispered:

"Incredible physical strength… magic on an absurd scale… demon eyes… and cunning as the devil…"

He sighed deeply, clenching his fist on the armrest.

"I can think of a few ways to kill him… but his caution will be an issue. The ideal would be to have bait…"

He then fixed his steady gaze on Mion:

"I want you to investigate the beasts. The dragon, the wolf… and all those close to the Beast God. But do not approach high-level bestials. The risk is too great."

Mion bowed respectfully, head lowered.

"Yes, Your Holiness…"

And without a sound, without a breeze or distortion of light, he vanished as if he had never been there. Not even a speck of dust remained.

The White Knight looked at the Pope, still showing some discomfort.

Lucios simply picked up the letter from House Graveyard again, as if nothing had happened. But deep down, both knew: the real game had just begun.

-----

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