Chương 80: The Eastern Road

Corinne yanked at the straps on her pack for the tenth time in as many minutes, the new leather squeaking a high-pitched protest with every nervous adjustment. She shifted her balance from foot to foot while her fingers checked waterproofed seams for nonexistent defects. Cal stood beside her near the eastern gate, casually holding his spear as he observed the morning traffic streaming in from the countryside. He exhaled, watching a ghost of vapor curl into the crisp air.

Winter's bite had fully descended, leaving a wet frost that clung to the stone walls and stung exposed skin.

"Mom applied the sealant herself." Corinne tugged on yet another strap.

"She used an old Mycari resin recipe, a family secret from Dad's side that supposedly keeps out even the worst rain." Her hands finally left the pack as she hefted her new spear, holding the weapon out to Cal with a radiant smile.

"And this..." She adopted the blacksmith's characteristic gruff tone, before her voice lightened once more.

"'A waste of good steel on a whelp,' he called it. Yorrin complained the whole time, of course, but I watched him re-fire the tip until the edge was flawless, proving he cared about my safety… even if he'd never admit it."

"They did well by you." Corinne smiled.

"Mom and Dad are the best!" Movement in the throng caught Cal's eye. Kamari's team approached through the congestion like the seasoned professionals they were, offering only disciplined nods, the shared language of people who had walked dangerous roads together for years. At the formation's point, Jorik's bulk and twin axes stepped forward on surprisingly light feet.

Amina and her recurve bow were a constant presence at his back, while Senna's hand rested on her healer's satchel and Bryon brought up the rear, his spear completing their protective unit. Kamari followed close behind as a lumbering fortress clad in thick plate armor, a battered shield on his back and a longsword at his hip. A load-out built for holding the line. He looked to Corinne first. His weathered features softened as he studied her gear, her stance, and the sure grip she kept on her spear.

He gave a slow nod of approval.

"Good morning, lass. Ready for your maiden contract?" Corinne practically vibrated.

"Ready, sir."

"Then let's not lose the daylight." Kamari gestured toward the open road.

"We have ground to cover." The team fell into step, boxing the rookies inside a protective cage of steel and awareness as they exited the gate and marched onto the eastern trade road. When Cal's boots met the surface of fused stone he realized it was so unnaturally smooth it resembled a single, dark ribbon of glass stretching toward the horizon. The dull stone formed a seamless surface that hummed with a reserve of contained power. He extended his [Spiritual Perception] to analyze the road itself.

The scan revealed a low-frequency pulse of earth Mana emanating from deep within the structure. While the specific mechanics remained beyond him, it felt like the fused stone defied frost, mud, and time itself. It was a display of pure logistical dominance. It's the Dominion's version of the yellow brick road, he mused, tapping his spear against the unnatural surface. Only the lion-man in these woods has plenty of courage and wants to eat your face. Cal moved up slightly to walk beside the team leader.

"Kamari. Captain Hatch taught me the spiritual equivalent of not breathing down someone's neck with my perception. Mind if I practice on you for a moment?" The veteran didn't break stride, his eyes still watching the surroundings.

"Have at it, lad." Cal drew on a thread of Mana and enhanced his perception, trying to fray the end like a worn rope. He brushed it against the warrior's aura. Kamari twitched his shoulder immediately.

"Ticklish. Felt like a fly buzzing around my ears."

"Ahhh… still needs some work." Cal pulled the sense back, turning the feedback over in his mind to analyze the failure.

"I'll keep working on it."

"Just don't poke me in the eye." The travelers around them proceeded in a state of organized chaos. Heavy freight wagons rolled past, their wheels hissing against the enchanted stone, while the occasional merchant caravan moved in clustered formations with guards searching for threats. Common folk on foot kept to the edges, eyes downcast and posture deferential. Flanking the road, the Dominion's priorities were carved into the earth.

Prime land closest to the village walls belonged to massive estates, their territory marked by high stone boundaries and wrought-iron gates. Beyond these strongholds, the architecture humbled into timber homes before surrendering to working fields carved into a grid of muddy islands where heaped soil kept roots above the waterline. It was a landscape defined by resistance, where men fought a daily battle to hold back the rot and the relentless green drift of the forest.

The noise of wheels on stone grew louder behind them. Cal glanced back to see a lavish carriage approaching, its polished wood reflecting the morning sun while gold leaf traced the edges of the doors, a noble house sigil adorning the side. The vehicle projected an air of authority that cleared the path long before the horses drew near. Ahead, a pair of Duskborn farmers resigned themselves to the muddy shoulder, their heels sinking into the soft earth as they made way.

Two laborers farther up took more drastic measures, diving into the drainage trench to press themselves against the embankment with bowed heads until the carriage passed. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. The nobles inside ignored the disruption their presence caused. Pavlov would be proud. Cal observed the instinctual flinch of the workers, shaking his head at this society. You don't even need to ring a bell.

Just the sight of house colors triggers the flight response. They carried on. The consistent pace settled into a hypnotic rhythm, a traveling meditation that drew his focus inward to the state of his own body. He sensed the erosion in his spiritual pathways, and his hand drifted toward his pack as he visualized the small vials nested inside. The meridian liner elixirs Aurelian had given him sat wrapped in cloth, protected and waiting. He reread the alchemist's letter in his mind. A warning, apprentice.

The liner's duration is a direct function of your exertion; it will last for hours of light travel, but only minutes in combat. That empowerment technique you developed will exhaust its protection in seconds. I have seen what such recklessness does to a man's future. Do not squander yours. He accepted his newest master's caution, noting the elixir's effect on his Stamina channels. Though he intended not to waste the liner, he wouldn't hesitate to use [Crimson Overdrive] if Corinne was in danger.

The grinding rattle of a dirty farm wagon drew his attention as it swayed along the smooth road ahead of them, the driver staring fixedly forward. On the back, a ten-year-old boy let his legs dangle off the edge while clutching a carved stick like a spear. As they drove past, the boy saw Cal. His eyes widened. He scrambled to his feet on the moving cart, nearly losing his balance.

"Ma! It's him!" The woman beside the driver turned, alarm crossing her features as her son wobbled precariously. Oblivious to his mother's alarm, the boy planted his feet wide in the wagon bed and attempted a clumsy imitation of the [Iron Root Stance], his small body rocking comically as the wagon bumped over some debris.

"Kitchen boy! Teach me that spear move!" The father's hand shot out and yanked the boy back down onto the cart.

"Sit down before yuh fall off!" He called out to their group.

"Apologies, adventurers. He's been playing as his favorite fighter from the tournament all week." The wagon rolled past, the boy still craning his neck to watch Cal until distance separated them. Corinne let out a delighted laugh.

"Did you see his face? He looked at you like you were a walking legend!" Heat crept up Cal's neck. He'd spent so long cultivating anonymity that being recognized still felt fundamentally wrong. Kamari chuckled.

"Looks like you made an impression, lad. I'm surprised Captain Hatch let you out of his clutches, given that he's not one to relinquish promising talent." Corinne puffed up, pride rolling off her.

"He's exempt from Legion conscription!" The words burst out before she could stop them.

"He's a Sovereign Aspirant!" Kamari furrowed his brow.

"Sovereign... Aspirant? That's a new one on me, lass." Corinne leaned in close to the veteran leader, her voice rising in excitement as she launched into an explanation. Her hands gestured animatedly, painting pictures in the air as she described The Sovereign Path and the pursuit of perfect attunement. Cal watched the reactions spread through Kamari's team. Amina tilted her head slightly as she processed the unfamiliar term, while Bryon's mouth opened, then closed again without a sound.

Jorik's thick brows climbed his forehead. On her satchel, Senna's fingers stilled, her constant adjustments momentarily forgotten. Then understanding dawned. The veterans' postures changed as spines straightened and they studied Cal with a new intensity. Senna spoke first.

"That's... that's a path for emperors and legends, Cal. Not common folk." Kamari's weathered face had grown serious. He studied Cal for a long moment before speaking again.

"Your skill is impressive, lad. I've no doubt. For here. But Deadfall's best..." He paused, choosing his words carefully.

"It's like comparing a well-made knife to a sword." Cal raised an eyebrow.

"When I was younger I spent a few years in the provincial capital working caravans, and I saw things there that Deadfall will never produce." His eyes grew distant, fixed on a memory only he could see.

"I witnessed an exhibition duel between two noble scions, arranged to settle a dispute over delving rights. The entire nobility turned out, with common folk allowed to watch from the outer ring." Kamari began to illustrate the scene with his hands.

"They were F-tier, like you, but the way they used their power..." He shook his head slowly.

"One of them, a slender girl from House Aerwyn, started the match by conjuring a storm. The air spun up around her in a whirlwind, the currents strengthening the closer to her they were. Her opponent covered himself with a shield of Mana and advanced as if he was just going for a casual stroll, confident he could best the wind."

"But that wasn't the real attack," Kamari continued.

"When he drew near enough that the winds ripped and tore, she conjured what looked like iron filings. Dozens of them, hovering in the air around her. Then she fed them into the wind." Jorik grunted, shaking his head.

"The gale accelerated the metal and turned it into deadly hail. A storm of razors moving too fast to track individually. The other fighter's shield held for maybe three seconds before it shattered, and he yielded the moment his protection failed." Kamari's expression grew grave.

"The crowd applauded, calling it brilliant. And it was. She constructed a kill zone cleverly and methodically. Her first Spell established the field, which the second then weaponized. It was a complete strategy, designed from start to finish in a way I'd never imagined." He glanced at Cal.

"I've never seen anything like it since, at least not from outside the nobility. You've got your work cut out for you if you want to swim in them deep waters, lad." Quiet descended on the group, broken only by the sound of boots on the magical highway. Cal understood the implications. Everything he'd learned, every technique he'd mastered through blood and pain was amateur hour compared to what the true elite could do. But I'm just getting started, he thought.

Nothing will keep me from getting powerful enough to reconnect with my family. The group marched on as the morning deepened. The manicured estates and irrigation channels slowly thinned, giving way to the wild, dominating expanse of the Virethane. By the time the road straightened into a lonely stretch bordered by dense pine, the traffic had dwindled to a trickle. Another carriage rumbled toward them from the opposite direction, breaking the monotony; this one functional and guarded by a single outrider.

The driver sat slumped with the boredom of a long haul. Cal had been passing the time with his practice on Kamari and his team, and he'd just found the perfect test subject. He eyed the coach while he unspooled his perception, the Mana-backed [Spiritual Perception] diffuse as a fine mist, expanding the surface area of the edge until the density dropped to near-ambient levels. The sensory data washed over him—the driver's aura burned with the crimson pulse of an E-tier warrior.

The driver scratched his nose, eyes fixed on the horizon, completely ignorant of the intrusion. [New Skill Gained: Feathered Edge (F) - Novice] A small thrill of competence warmed Cal's chest. He might not be a noble scion with deadly magic, but he was learning. Not long after Jorik raised a thick thumb toward a barely visible game trail leading into the woods.

"This the turn-off." The abrupt statement broke Cal out of his contemplation. Corinne straightened her shoulders, and Cal saw a fierce light enter her eyes as she bit at her lip. He fell into step beside her just as the group turned from the magical road onto the muddy trail. Their eyes met briefly, and Cal gave her a smile of encouragement. The forest accepted them in. The world narrowed to the immediate: the hunt ahead, the friend beside him, and the trial she was about to undertake.

The Sovereign Path could wait. Right now, Corinne needed to survive her first real contract. And Cal would make sure she did.