TOFW 07

Episode 07
Childhood: Prologue to Summer (6)

Over 20 years ago.
The “Abyss” swept across the entire continent under the name “Black Summer.”
Through that chaos, humanity realized one undeniable truth: they could not defeat the demons in a head-on war.

Thus, humanity borrowed the power of the dwarves to build a wide-area fortress system.

Its name—The Inferno Line (煉獄線).

A steel line of fortresses constructed north of the Bellisore River, dividing the territory of the former Republic into three parts: East, South, and West.
While it had a structural weakness of abandoning the southern lands below the river, the Inferno Line nevertheless held for four full years, even against the Uruk’s blitzkrieg.

In other words, for the four years since the war began, the battles were centered around this Inferno Line siege.

Camilla’s White Bone Legion was deployed to the central-western front of this line—a battlefield that always came up when discussing the war’s fiercest zones.

“All batteries, fire! Don’t let those Uruk bastards cross the river!”

Steam cannons aimed at the river roared in unison, jolting back with a thunderous boom.
The artillery shells broke apart boats, sent water spraying into the air, and rocked hulls—but only for a moment. The shells rebounded off a dark barrier spread across the sky like a curtain.

Observers with spyglasses turned pale.

“Enemy’s sorcery barrier confirmed… The bombardment was stopped!”

A flag fluttered at the front—deep blue, with a white eye painted on it.
Below it, an old Uruk floated cross-legged in the air, silent and still.

It was Dudigal, chieftain of the Holdrim Clan, one of the 21 highest-ranking High Tarks among the Uruk.

“Keep firing! Until the barrier breaks!”
“We can’t, sir! Not a single crack!”

Camilla clicked her tongue from the hillside, watching the skirmish unfold.

“Idiots… wasting shells. That barrier can’t be pierced with standard artillery.”

Yohan let out a low sigh.
“Holdrim Clan… Looks like the High Tarks are finally stepping up to breach the Inferno Line.”

“Holdrim”—meaning “Black Star” in their ancient tongue.
They were known to draw wisdom from the stars, and even their common warriors could use magic.
This was no light matter.

Ordinarily, Uruks were divided into warriors or shamans, but the Holdrim wielded both.

Eight clans rallied under the Holdrim, sailing their warships forward with that barrier leading the charge.
Their numbers—about 20,000.
The defenders of Fortress No. 7 numbered just under 8,000.

They were hopelessly outnumbered.

“Landing! The enemy’s landing!”

The first wave of boats struck the riverbank like thunder. Uruk warriors leapt ashore, shouting their battle cries.

Being in the vanguard was the highest honor among Uruks. Only the elite warriors of the highest caste could claim such a position.

“Riflemen, ready! Fire!”

Even as bullets poured like rain, the Uruks climbed the walls using their comrades’ corpses as shields.

Their first target—the forward artillery platform.

Humanity had to drive them off before it fell.
The Uruks had to destroy it to secure the main force’s landing.

Two conflicting purposes overlapped in one place—a clash was inevitable.

“U-Ha!”

Uruk laughter mingled with screams.
The flesh of human defenders was slashed to pieces. Brains burst. Bone fragments flew.

And then—

Srrrk—

A sharp metallic sound sliced through the bloody chaos.
The cry of a blade, chillingly distinct even in this madness.

A boy stood at the center of it all, his jet-black hair fluttering in the wind.

“Asu-dubari (Who the hell is that)?”

An Uruk holding a bloodied corpse scoffed at the boy.

That moment—

Flash.

The boy’s sword drew a thunderbolt of motion.

He severed the Uruk’s neck.
Then pierced the heart of the one behind it.
He parried two swinging axes with his sheath, then sliced off both attackers’ wrists.

“…?!”
“…?!”
“…?!”

To be shocked was to expose weakness.
The boy cut down all who stood there, stunned.

One by one.
Step by step.
Like tilling a field—not hurried.

He cut. Then again. And again. And again.

A path formed behind him, paved in blood, bone, and marrow.

Uruk warriors regained their senses and charged. But rifle fire tore through their skulls.

“For scum like this, bullets are better than blades!”

The riflemen behind him shouted.
Covered in blood, Kaisen gazed ahead—toward the crimson-tinted edge of the world.

‘That’s the enemy commander…’

Even at a glance, he was no ordinary foe.
Clad in ceremonial robes worn only by the elite of the Holdrim Clan, he looked like a cunning beast.

As he chanted a foul incantation, a black mist of resentment spread.

“W-What is that thing…?!”
“Shoot! Don’t let him finish the spell!”
“It’s not working!”

The mist clung to skin, melting it together with fat, revealing grotesque bone beneath.

“Wahahahaha! Pathetic! Weak little humans!”

The moment Kaisen saw him, he was already moving.

He deflected flying axes, leapt off walls to avoid the black mist, and drew his sword—

Then, pulled it behind his head, muscles coiling to the limit.
Mana chain in his right hand. Mana heart in his left.
They wrapped the blade in sharp, magical energy.

—Shijumunjado, Form 4: Strike (發).

Shijumunjado: the Ten-Stroke Sword Technique.
Its foundations—Circle, Impact, Dull, and Strike.

But Kaisen could only use one: Strike.

—Shijumunjado, Form 10: Cross Decapitation.

As Kaisen landed, the amplified technique carved intersecting cuts through the Uruk warrior’s body.
The steel blade opened a path—then the mana blade behind it exploded the entrails.

Once-organs spilled in rivers of blood as the corpse collapsed into four pieces across the ramparts.

“Whoa, did you see that?”
“Insane! One strike!”

That was the turning point.

Emboldened by the boy’s ferocity, the soldiers pushed the Uruks back and reclaimed the artillery platform.

“Kaisen! I’ll hold this spot—go to the lady!”

If there was even a need to…

Yohan, the Empire’s strongest cryomancer, had already frozen the river into a wasteland of ice.

Spikes of frozen water burst from the surface, impaling Uruks by the dozens.

Across the frozen chaos, Camilla led the beastkin troops forward—unhurried.
She didn’t need to rush. Her slow, steady steps no one could stop.

Uruks who tried were slain five or six at a time with each slash.

Each swing of her sacred sword Aradamentel severed heads and halved bodies.
Blood scattered across the ice, freezing into crimson fragments.

Finally, Dudigal descended from the prow, still cross-legged and floating.

“Dudigal is the Holdrim’s most powerful sorcerer—able to control lightning, attraction, repulsion, and gravity at will,”
Yohan had said before battle.

Kaisen remembered. Camilla had insisted on handling him.

‘So he’s a High Tark too. And a high-ranking one at that…’

Dudigal slammed the ground with his hammer. Black lightning shattered the ice, sending up crashing waves.

One, two, three, four bolts.

Camilla watched them come—then burst forward, leaving deep prints behind.

‘Fast as always. Too fast for me to follow with my eyes. I can’t even compare…’

Dudigal’s sphere of altered gravity couldn’t catch her speed.
Not even time to admire her.

Because the fight was already over.

He couldn’t perceive the start or end of her slash—only understood later upon review.

“Cutting Wish: Crimson Mist Annihilation Slash.”

A finishing move usable only with a sacred sword.

Camilla drew Aradamentel from its white sheath.

The moment she did, crimson particles crackled violently around her.

Draw.

Her sword tore the horizon faster than sound.

Ssssshhh—

The slash was so fast, only the afterimage of light remained.

When she resheathed it, only then did the sound of the slash echo.

The sound came after the cut.

Only then did those struck realize they’d been struck.

Dudigal’s body. Dozens of ships. Hundreds of Uruk warriors.
All were sliced along the line of the draw—as easily as tearing paper.

Whum—

In a shiver that rattled his bones, Kaisen stared at Aradamentel in a trance.

‘Mother’s sword…’

His mother had fought with that blade too.

Camilla, trained by her, now wielded it flawlessly.

As the leading Feyquarrior—heir to that legacy.

‘Will I ever reach that point…?’

Probably not.

Men couldn’t become Feyquarriors.
And he was not Camilla’s disciple.

* * *

That afternoon, the Uruks retreated.

No resistance could stand against the overwhelming might of a leading Feyquarrior.

With the artillery platform reclaimed thanks to Kaisen, bombardment resumed.

Without Dudigal, they had no barrier to block it.

That day, the undefeated White Bone Legion carved another legend into history.

Casualties: 127 wounded, 35 dead.

The fortress lost 2,000 men—
But the demon army suffered four times more: 8,000 dead or wounded.

“And this little guy here chopped off the head of one of Holdrim’s top bastards! With one clean strike!”

Jin raised his beer mug, and the legion cheered and clinked glasses.

Kaisen was uncomfortable.

Compared to Camilla’s feat, his own looked pitiful.

Maybe sensing this, Eltoram gave him a hearty slap on the back with a furry hand.

“Camilla is a Feyquarrior—a Hero. Competing with her is an insult.”
“That’s not it.”
“Oh, I smell lies, little Kaisen.”
“…”
“You don’t know, do you… what she sacrifices to wield that kind of power.”

Right. He didn’t know.

Looking back, maybe he’d have preferred never knowing.

Feyquarriors burned through their lifespan to wield superhuman strength.
And Camilla—she didn’t have much time left.

“You overdid it today, Camilla.”

Far from the noise of victory, in a meadow untouched by volcanic ash, the moon still shone in the sky.

Camilla looked up.

“Wolf.”
“Using the final secret technique of the sacred sword—was that really necessary?”
“Of course. You think I’d hold back against a High Tark? We had to make a statement today.”
“Why?”
“Something felt… off. Didn’t seem like they seriously wanted to take Fortress 7.”
“Then what?”
“Hmm… Felt like a diversion. That’s why I had to finish it fast. That final move? Just flexing power.”
“Camilla… Holdrim’s a High Tark. Not some rookie clan. Are you saying they used him as bait?”
“Didn’t even feel like their main force showed up… Something was weird.”
“You think he handed off the clan to his heir and came alone?”
“Can’t say for sure.”
“Or maybe you’ve just gotten too strong—and this all felt too easy? Looked to me like you went out of your way to show Kaisen your new finishing move.”
“As if.”