Luka stood alone on the wall for several minutes, his preparations to reveal things to Galatea complete. Once he gathered himself, he hopped down the six-foot drop, rolling across the grass. "Hmph... still lacking!" All to test his physical abilities after boosting them.
The inside of the outpost remained bare, with a dozen or so makeshift tents for the knights and hunters to share.
He observed the men chatting amongst themselves, stirring a giant metal pot with a creamy white soup, with small chunks of purple meat boiling.
'Fel Meat?'
Since the hunters lived in Babylon, he never thought they'd use Fel Meat to cook.
When monsters appeared, normal animals who lived within their radius would unwittingly absorb their sinful aura and eventually mutate into Fel Beasts. Much like their normal form, just larger and more aggressive with small changes.
Rabbits would triple in size, sometimes growing horns or spewing flames.
Deer became dangerously violent, and their horns sharp like a honed steel blade.
However, one universal fact remained. Their meat became tough and carried a gamey taste along with the faint levels of corruption from consuming it. Thus, most humans avoided Fel Meat with a passion.
'I'll have to speak with them later...' Of course, there was a way to eat it, enjoying the benefits while minimising the negatives.
To do that, the mana crystals from monsters needed to be used.
But mana crystals were an important source of income for most people and territories.
"My Lord, is something wrong?" Zack, who stood close to the pot while half drooling, suddenly noticed Luka and called out to him. He wore a look of worry on his face, despite struggling to hide his hunger.
"Nothing, don't be so nervous... We'll enjoy the meal together later."
After getting to know the hapless knight, Luka smiled unwittingly as he headed for the main tents where Galatea, Iris and Gerard likely waited.
.
.
.
At the centre of the camp, four tents stood within a smaller walled-off area, a circular space about thirty metres in diameter.
'Just enough room to fit a mansion, a barracks and a training field.'
He approached the first tent, guarded by two women who followed Brea and Iris, their height a little shorter than average, but their tight, muscular figures couldn't be those of a weak and vulnerable woman.
'Dwarves are known for their matriarchal society... Is it due to these racial characteristics?'
Men preferred to create weapons, while women would be the ones to fight, hunt and wage wars; though men also joined battle, it was quite rare.
Though he didn't mind or judge them, tingles shot up his spine when their eyes traced the shape of his body with a sticky and hot gaze lingering on his crotch and shoulders.
"He's quite impressive."
"I know, the matrirach seems smitten!"
"Eh, no way!?"
Their gossip passed through one ear and out the other, though he noticed a dangerous term. He spotted Gerard standing in front of a large bonfire, his hand holding a large green gemstone while speaking with Vaun, Old Levi and Galatea.
"Hmm?"
Gerard stepped away from the group with five knights following behind him. All of them slammed their right arm across their chest with a thud and wrapped their left behind their backs.
"Lord Luka, Your loyal soldier Gerard de Alverain and his men have returned victorious!"
Then bowed to him.
He watched them closely, unable to see their loyalty like Vaun's, yet his instincts remained calm, knowing that Galatea's grandfather would normally have died tonight.
'As long as I don't hurt her... he will help me to the end.'
Luka waved his arm across the air, mimicking the memories and images of his father.
"Rise, honoured knights. You have done well."
Gerard examined Luka closely when returning to his feet; the knights behind him carried softer gazes and smiles. But Gerard didn't. His brows furrowed as he glanced towards Galatea, then, after a sigh, his lips finally relaxed.
"That is a thing of the past, My Lord. I am nothing more than an old man who can use the sword."
"Nonsense!" Galatea cried out.
Her grandfather snapped back and glared at her, causing the young maid to cover her lips and shuffle back.
"Forgive me, My Lord." He seemed to have regretted his actions and lowered his head slightly. "Though Dame Galatea is a little rough around the edges, she has the qualities of a great knight, I promise you that on my name."
"Worry not, Sir Gerard. I know that she is no simple knight. Much like her mother, and his father before her."
"..." The old man's eyes glossed over for a moment before he smiled at Luka. "You've truly changed, it's almost unbelievable you're that whiny little lad who struggled to lift the wooden sword I brought six years ago..."
Although his words didn't contain enmity, Luka felt the cold chill and curious hints in his tone and choice of words.
"Oblivion."
Luka didn't want to drag on this kind of misunderstanding and summoned his unholy sword.
Though the world remained in its infancy, tales, mythology and magic existed. Thus, the knowledge of magic swords, holy swords and of course unholy swords that granted their wielder powers beyond imagination also existed.
"This is the sword that answered my desperate pleas for salvation."
Gerard's eyes widened as he recoiled while grasping his blade tight. "My Lord, that sword... that sword is—!"
"An evil, unholy sword that feeds off my desires and ambitions."
"!!!!"
The knights, Vaun, Gerard and even Galatea's mouths dropped as they understood it wasn't a normal sword but to hear the truth it struck a new chord.
"Do you know what the price is for such a blade, My Lord?!"
Gerard's hoarse roar pushed the subject with his watery eyes reflected in the flickering embers—a knight who held great affection for his bloodline. He grew up with his grandfather, trained his father, and now Lukas could feel those intense emotions directly.
"Grandfather?"
Galatea frowned, glancing at the pristine black sword that half resembled hers, with a red gemstone instead of royal blue.
"Gerard de Alverain!" Luka called his name and approached with a graceful stride. "This sword is my burden, the cross I must bear to protect my people and our lands. No matter what the cost, I will not forsake my duty as a noble or lord."
The words snapped Gerard from his emotional rage, his breathing ragged as he clutched his chest and bowed once more.
"If you swear to fulfil your duty, this old man can only apologise... My Lord, forgive this immature fools actions."
Luka patted Gerard's shoulder and lowered his voice. "What you fear won't come to pass, for I have already paid my due to this blade." Without waiting for Gerard's response, he cocked his head to Galatea, trailing his eyes over her body no longer wrapped in armour.
"After eating, come to my tent. I have something to tell you."
With that, he stepped into the largest tent, his hand releasing Oblivion as it faded into particles of purple light.
.
.
.
[Gerard POV]
"Grandfather, what's wrong?!" Galatea recovered and rushed to Gerard's side, rubbing his sweat-ridden cheeks with a handkerchief.
Gerard turned to his daughter, then shook his head.
"N-Nothing, I just felt something when staring into Our Lord's eyes."
"Something in Luka's eyes? Maybe you're becoming senile?"
She avoided the subject.
Her grandfather took a deep breath only to burst out in a hearty laugh. "I see... is this the feeling of growing older? To see my daughter stand in my place as a knight and the boy I worried for, finally... taking his first steps. Haha! Are you watching Old Friend?! Your Grandson has spread his wings and taken flight!"
He took the cloth from Galatea, eyeing her up before smiling.
"You should dress to your best when you visit the Young Lord."
"Grandfather?! What do you mean?"
Galatea's cheeks flushed red as she glanced to the battlements, before quickly turning and rushing away into a smaller tent cloaked in darkness.
Meanwhile, Gerard stood beside the bonfire, his eyes murky and dazed.
He ignored the embers fluttering across his cheeks.
Quietly pondering...
"My Lord... what drove you to this state?" He recalled the strong, indestructible glow of vengeance and destruction that lingered in the depths of his eyes. No different from the monsters Gerard fought in his prime.
"Dear brother, your grandson is a terrifying man. Alas, I shall watch over him should he become lost or need guidance.
I will be there."