Chương 43: What Walked Out of the Fire

The camp had been designed to face attacks from the east. Its heaviest barricades, clearest firing positions, and strongest defensive formations all pointed toward the scorched battlefield. The sides facing the town and surrounding wilderness possessed little more than sentries and temporary fences. Now, smoke approached from every direction except the one they had prepared to defend. Sieghart remained near Edric for several seconds while trying to understand what was happening.

The tents blocked most of his view, leaving him with scattered orange glows and frightened voices instead of useful information. He needed a higher position. The supply wagon he had used during the previous battle no longer existed, and standing upon another one would make him an obvious target. Fortunately, the camp contained several elevated lookout platforms. The nearest platform stood beside the northern section of the camp.

It consisted of a simple wooden tower with a narrow ladder, originally intended to help sentries monitor the outer defenses. Two guards were already climbing it. Sieghart changed direction and searched for another option. A stack of reinforced supply crates rested near the remains of the medical area, reaching almost as high as the surrounding tents. The crates weren't stable enough for an ordinary child to climb safely. Sieghart used a weak blast of wind beneath his feet and lifted himself onto the first layer.

A second burst carried him higher. He reached the top, balanced upon the wooden surface, and activated Protection in case the entire stack collapsed. The position wasn't perfect, but it allowed him to see beyond the camp. His first glance went toward the east. The hills remained mostly dark. A weak orange light glowed behind them, illuminating the smoke rising into the night sky. Sieghart narrowed his eyes. The light was becoming weaker. At first, he assumed the fires were running out of vegetation to burn.

However, the glow diminished too quickly and evenly for the flames to be fading naturally. Something was consuming them. Sieghart turned toward the northern side. A grove stood in the distance, its trees visible as black silhouettes against another orange glow. Some of the trees were falling. Their branches disappeared beneath waves of flame before the trunks collapsed, sending sparks into the air. Despite the additional wood, the fire surrounding the grove continued shrinking. That wasn't normal.

A burning tree should have fed the flames and increased their intensity. Instead, every falling trunk seemed to make the orange light dim faster. The fire wasn't spreading through the grove. It was being drained from it. Sieghart remembered how the Firians had absorbed flames during the earlier battles. Fire had bent toward their bodies, strengthening the red glow beneath their skin and allowing their wounds to heal. Previously, they had consumed only small flames or the remnants of their own attacks.

The grove represented a completely different scale.

"Did they finally decide to eat fire?" The phrase still sounded ridiculous. People couldn't bite flames, chew them, or digest heat through ordinary biological processes. The Firians had abandoned ordinary biology generations ago. Sieghart concentrated upon the grove. The smoke made details difficult to distinguish, but he occasionally saw movement between the trees. Dark figures stood around the largest flames. Orange streams flowed away from the burning vegetation and disappeared into their bodies.

Sieghart's theory was correct. The Firians weren't using the fires merely to fill the camp with smoke. They had ignited the dry vegetation surrounding the area and spent hours allowing the flames to grow. Now, they were consuming everything. The daytime fires beyond the eastern hills had gathered heat steadily. The nighttime blazes provided an additional source while concealing their movements and forcing the defenders into confusion.

The Firians had delayed their attack because they wanted to exceed their ordinary limits. They decided that being difficult to kill wasn't enough and turned the surrounding forest into a collection of energy drinks. The light behind the eastern hills weakened until only a thin orange line remained. The grove darkened almost as quickly, despite several trees still burning. Then the shadows began moving. They emerged from behind the hills in scattered groups, exactly as they had during the previous battles.

This time, however, their bodies didn't resemble distant human silhouettes. Orange lines covered them. The light followed the positions of their veins, forming glowing networks across their arms, legs, necks, and faces. Each pulse sent additional heat rolling into the surrounding air. Their bodies appeared ready to split open. Some Firians walked with their arms held away from their sides, perhaps because touching their own skin had become uncomfortable. Others exhaled sparks with every breath.

The flames within the grove continued shrinking as more figures emerged between the trees. They marched toward the northern side of the camp, moving through the smoke without coughing or slowing. Additional groups appeared from the south and west. Sieghart finally understood the full strategy. The Firians had surrounded the camp before igniting the vegetation. The fires concealed their positions, strengthened them, and flooded the defenders with smoke simultaneously.

By the time anyone detected the attack, the enemy had already consumed enough heat to begin fighting at greater strength than ever before. They weren't planning another ordinary raid. They intended to destroy the camp. Sieghart jumped from the crates and used Wind Magic to slow his descent. He landed beside Edric as his grandfather finished fastening a quiver across his back.

"The fires are getting weaker." Edric looked toward him sharply.

"What did you see?"

"They're consuming them. There are Firians approaching from behind the eastern hills, the northern grove, and probably the other fires as well." Edric's expression hardened. He looked toward the elevated platform, where one of the guards had finally begun shouting the same warning.

"Enemies approaching from the north!" Another voice followed from the western side. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Movement near the town road!" Alarm horns answered one another across the camp. Each direction used a slightly different pattern, creating an overlapping collection of warnings that only increased the confusion. Soldiers who had begun moving east turned north. Others stopped halfway between formations, waiting for officers to decide which threat required them most. Edric gripped Sieghart's shoulder.

"You aren't doing anything this time." Sieghart stared at him.

"Grandpa—""No." The firmness in Edric's voice silenced the argument before it could begin. His fingers tightened against Sieghart's shoulder while his gaze moved toward the approaching orange figures.

"Don't draw attention to yourself, no matter what happens." Sieghart understood the reasoning. The Firian leader had already recognized him as a threat. Using large-scale water magic would reveal his position immediately, and another massive fireball might arrive before he could defend himself. The enemy had probably prepared a better method of killing him. They had witnessed the water wall and knew the first attack failed. Repeating the same strategy would be dangerous. Edric crouched until their faces were level.

Smoke swirled around them, turning the light from nearby enchanted lanterns into hazy circles.

"At the first sign of danger, you run away." Sieghart couldn't nod. The order was reasonable. He possessed infinite mana, useful spells, and enough knowledge to travel back toward the farm without relying upon the roads. Escaping alone would probably be easier than surviving inside a collapsing military camp. The Firians were focused upon the soldiers, not a child fleeing through the darkness. Sieghart still couldn't agree.

Edric and Elara were the first people in this world who treated him as more than a disappointment. They had welcomed him into their home, fed him, educated him, and purchased books without demanding that he become someone else. His parents sent him away after learning that he lacked a powerful Aura. His grandparents accepted him without asking whether raising him would provide any advantage. Abandoning one of those two people wasn't an option.

Sieghart had already lost one family in his previous life, although the emotional distance between them had grown long before his death. He wouldn't repeat that mistake with people who genuinely cared about him. If Edric remained in the camp, Sieghart would remain close enough to help. He didn't say that aloud. His grandfather didn't need another argument while preparing to face enemies empowered by an entire burning grove.

"I heard you." Edric recognized the careful wording.

"I told you to run."

"And I heard you."

"That isn't a promise." Sieghart held his gaze without answering. Edric's expression tightened, but the alarm horns prevented him from continuing. An officer shouted for Edric's group to form near the northern edge. His grandfather looked between Sieghart and the gathering soldiers. Duty won the immediate struggle. Edric stood and placed the enchanted bow in Sieghart's hands.

"Charge it." The weapon's runes remained partially full from the previous battle, but Sieghart restored every stored arrow within seconds. Red light spread along the bowstring. Edric accepted it and hesitated.

"Stay hidden." Sieghart nodded this time because hiding didn't require abandoning anyone. His grandfather ran toward the forming defensive line. The older members and younger recruits gathered around him, many still adjusting armor or carrying weapons they hadn't checked properly. The camp's front line began forming in several directions. Shield bearers moved between tents instead of standing behind prepared barricades.

Archers climbed supply crates and wagons, while spear users protected narrow paths through the camp. The arrangement lacked the strength of the eastern defenses. Tents, equipment, and frightened horses restricted movement, preventing the soldiers from forming a continuous wall. The Firians had chosen their battlefield well. Their heat allowed them to ignore smoke, while the defenders coughed and struggled to see.

The surrounding fires provided energy, and the cramped camp prevented long-range units from using their full advantage. Sieghart climbed halfway up the lookout platform, stopping below the top to avoid becoming visible against the sky. The wooden supports provided partial concealment while allowing him to observe the approaching enemies. The heat intensified. It felt worse than the previous battles, even though the Firians remained farther away.

The air became painfully dry, and moisture evaporated from Sieghart's skin almost immediately. He shifted Protection toward water. The altered mana circulated beneath his skin, distributing the heat and making it easier to endure. Maintaining the variation still required concentration, but the effort became smaller each time he used it. Below him, soldiers poured water over cloth and wrapped it across their mouths. Others soaked the tents nearest the defensive lines to prevent stray flames from igniting them.

The preparations looked inadequate. The Firians emerging from the grove no longer resembled people carrying fire. They looked like human-shaped furnaces barely containing the energy inside them. Some trees collapsed behind them without flames. Their bark had become black and brittle after the Firians drained the remaining heat. Sieghart counted the advancing shadows. There appeared to be fewer enemies than during the previous battles. However, each possessed far more stored energy.

The Firians had concentrated the available flames among their strongest fighters rather than distributing them across a larger army. That made sense. Sieghart's water spheres had punished clustered formations and weakened ordinary warriors. Sending fewer but stronger fighters reduced the number of targets while making each one harder to cool. The enemy had adjusted specifically to counter him. Sieghart clenched the wooden support beneath his fingers.

They spent one evening learning how annoying infinite mana can become. I suppose tonight is their attempt at returning the favor. The northern group stopped outside the range of ordinary arrows. Their glowing bodies remained partially concealed by smoke, but the heat around them turned the air into a shifting curtain. The defenders raised their weapons. Nobody fired.

The officers didn't want to waste ammunition against enemies who could dodge, and the Firians seemed content to wait while the remaining groups approached from other directions. Then the orange light behind the eastern hills vanished completely. Darkness covered the ridge for several seconds. A single figure appeared at its highest point. He was taller than the other Firians, with broad shoulders and a muscular body protected by dark armor.

The metal plates looked black at first, but red light pulsed through cracks across their surface. His hair was crimson. Unlike Sieghart's hair, which moved naturally with the wind, the warrior's long red strands flowed upward like flames. Sparks drifted from their ends before disappearing into the night. Orange lines covered his face and neck. They shone more brightly than those of every other Firian, pulsing in time with his slow footsteps. The surrounding smoke moved away from him.

He descended the hill without hurry, walking toward the camp as though the battle had already ended. Each step darkened the ground beneath his boots. The ordinary Firians began moving when he reached the bottom. Their advance remained controlled, but the eagerness Sieghart had noticed previously had transformed into something more focused. They weren't testing the defenses tonight. They were following their leader into a decisive attack. Sieghart studied the tall warrior.

Even from that distance, the heat surrounding him felt familiar. It carried the same oppressive pressure as the massive fireball that destroyed the wagon. The warrior raised one hand. Flames gathered above his palm, condensing into a sphere far more quickly than they had during the previous attack. The surrounding Firians moved aside, giving him a clear path toward the camp. Sieghart felt his stomach tighten. There was no proof yet, but he didn't need the system to confirm the obvious.

"That has to be him." The man with hair like living fire was almost certainly the person who had tried to kill Sieghart. This time, he hadn't remained behind the hills. He had come to finish the battle himself.