Chapter 8: Sacred Revolt

(Side Scene)

The Rise of Revolution in Woodsaw

The Squatters District—a vast, poverty-stricken region in the southern part of Woodsaw—was on the brink of collapse.

It had once been a place where merchants and workers thrived, but now, it had become a land of the forgotten. The economy of Woodsaw had been steadily declining, and with resources becoming scarce, the poor suffered the most.

Corrupt officials exploited the weak, merchants raised prices beyond what the common people could afford, and hunger spread like a plague.

And in this suffering, Carous Gelheim had found his stage.

Carous was a revolutionary, a speaker, a leader who knew how to sway the desperate. He promised the people freedom from oppression, wealth for all, and an end to the suffering brought by Jeffrey Maxim's government.

But while he wore the mask of a liberator, his ambitions ran deeper.

He didn't just want to save Woodsaw. He wanted to rule it.

The War Council in Yore

Inside the fortress of Yore, the capital of Woodsaw, Jeffrey Maxim sat in silence as his commanders debated the uprising.

Jack McCaw, a hardened strategist with little patience for rebellion, leaned forward. "We need to crush this movement before it spreads. The longer we wait, the harder it will be to control."

Ion Damboldour, a warrior-priest from the Order of Isus, folded his arms. "Let them revolt. Those who rise against us must be purged."

Enzo, the youngest and most level-headed of the commanders, sighed. "We should consider diplomacy. If we open negotiations, perhaps we can prevent unnecessary bloodshed."

Maxim listened, his fingers tapping against the wooden table. He was a man of honor, and the idea of slaughtering his own people did not sit well with him.

"The people have suffered," Maxim finally said, his voice deep and steady. "But a leader does not abandon his nation. If they rise against us, we must respond—not with brutality, but with wisdom."

The war council continued.

Far from the politics of Woodsaw, Kaiser, Elric, and Espada continued their journey.

Their destination was Guards' Point, a heavily fortified military encampment under the Royal Guard of King Fredrik Dimas.

As they walked, Elric explained the true structure of power in Mezolith.

"Even though Woodsaw, Blazzarene, Ignareth, and Aquarene act as independent nations, they are still under the rule of King Fredrik and the Heaven Family," Elric said.

Espada smirked. "It's a game of power. The kings act like they have control, but at the end of the day, it's Fredrik who holds the leash."

Kaiser frowned. "Then why don't they just rebel?"

Elric chuckled. "You don't rebel against a god, kid. The Heaven Family isn't just royalty—they're the highest authority in Mezolith. No one dares move against them."

Kaiser processed this information in silence.

Rebels' Pass – Entering Forbidden Land

As they approached Rebels' Pass, the terrain became rugged and isolated. The deeper they went, the more they noticed something strange—there were no bandits, no travelers, nothing.

It wasn't empty.

It was guarded.

Then, they appeared.

A group of warriors, clad in earth-colored robes with intricate markings, stepped forward. Their curved blades gleamed in the light, and their faces were marked with ritual tattoos.

At the center stood an elderly mage, leaning on a staff adorned with strange symbols.

"You do not belong here," the elder spoke, his voice like wind rustling through ancient stone.

Espada raised an eyebrow. "And who exactly are you?"

The elder narrowed his eyes. "I am Karawakara, chieftain of the Chichutu Nomads. And this land is not Rebels' Pass. It is the Chichu Holy Land."

Elric crossed his arms. "We don't mean trouble. We're just passing through."

Karawakara's expression did not change. "The ground you walk upon is sacred. Outsiders are not welcome."

Kaiser sensed the tension rising. This was not a simple dispute—this was a warning.

Battle with the Chichutu Warriors

The warriors drew their weapons.

Espada sighed. "I hate when talking doesn't work."

Without another word, the Chichutu warriors charged.

Kaiser dodged a sweeping strike, rolling to the side as his daggers flashed in retaliation.

Elric swung his flail, cracking a warrior's armor with sheer force. Water gathered around his hands, forming a whip-like tendril—his Water Whip struck another enemy, knocking him back.

Espada weaved between her opponents, her Flow Thrust piercing through the gaps in their defenses.

The Chichutu warriors fought with fluid, precise movements, making them difficult to predict.

Kaiser activated Phantom Step, flickering behind an opponent—but the warrior reacted instantly, blocking his attack.

They were fast. Too fast.

Kaiser clenched his jaw. These weren't ordinary fighters. They were battle-hardened warriors protecting sacred land.

The Stables Merchant Encounter

As the battle raged, a merchant caravan appeared at Mountain Point.

The merchant, a sturdy-looking man with a thick beard, shouted. "Oi! What in the hells is going on?!"

The distraction gave the nomads an opening—one of them lunged at the merchant's horses, aiming to cut the reins and scatter the supplies.

Elric cursed. "They're going after the caravan!"

Kaiser moved on instinct, throwing one of his daggers toward the attacker.

The blade sank into the warrior's shoulder, stopping him before he could reach the horses.

Espada grinned. "Nice throw, rookie."

The Chieftain's Arrival

The battle ended as quickly as it had begun.

A deep voice echoed through the battlefield.

"Enough."

Karawakara himself stepped forward, his staff glowing faintly.

The warriors immediately stopped, stepping back.

The elder looked at Kaiser, Elric, and Espada. "You fight with skill. But you are still intruders."

Elric wiped blood off his flail. "We didn't come here to fight."

Karawakara studied them for a long moment. Then, he nodded. "You may pass. But do not return. Next time, there will be no mercy."

The group exchanged glances but said nothing.

As they continued their journey, Kaiser couldn't shake the feeling—he had just made an enemy of the Chichutu Nomads.

And that was a problem he didn't need.

Part 6 – The Hunt in the Moonlit Wilderness

The Chichutu Nomads – Warriors of Forgotten History

Long before the great nations of Mezolith rose to power, foreign invaders from distant lands sought to claim the continent for themselves. They came with iron ships, steel weapons, and fire magic, sweeping across the land like an unstoppable force.

Entire cities fell. Kingdoms crumbled. But one people stood defiant—the Chichutu Nomads.

Unlike the structured armies of Mezolith, the Chichutu warriors fought using guerrilla tactics, striking from the mountains, disappearing into the desert, and ambushing their enemies at night. Their combat style was fluid, unpredictable, and precise, making them nearly impossible to defeat in their own terrain.

For decades, they fought, and in the end, they won. The foreign invaders, unable to maintain control, were forced to retreat, their ambitions shattered.

But history is written by the victors.

When the great nations of Mezolith finally rose, they did not recognize the Chichutu as heroes. Instead, they labeled them as rebels—a dangerous, lawless people unwilling to submit to modern rule.

The world may have forgotten the truth, but the Chichutu never did. And they would never forgive those who desecrated their sacred land.