15th Day of the Month of the Iron WolfTemporary Encampment Outside Oakhaven, Varkas Kingdom
Smoke still rose from the direction of Oakhaven.
Even from several kilometers away, the destruction remained visible against the pale winter sky. What had once been a frontier village now looked like a scar burned into the land, its blackened remains barely recognizable beneath the snow.
The survivors no longer stayed there.
After Mreylin's withdrawal, the remaining forces of Varkas had gathered at a temporary encampment established along the outer edge of the Whispering Veilwood. Rows of tents stretched across the frozen terrain, surrounded by hastily constructed defensive barriers and patrol routes carved into the snow.
Knights moved constantly throughout the camp.
Some treated the wounded.
Others reinforced defenses or prepared supplies for relocation.
No one believed the danger had passed.
Not after witnessing a Demon Baron firsthand.
Inside the largest command tent near the center of the encampment, three figures sat around a broad wooden table covered in maps and reports illuminated by lantern light.
Kaelen stood with both hands resting heavily against the table's edge. His armor had not yet been fully repaired, several deep marks still visible across the steel from the previous battle.
Across from him stood Aelion Swiftwind, calm as ever despite the exhaustion hidden beneath his composed expression. Beside him, Soren leaned quietly against one side of the tent, his single remaining arm folded across his chest while his sword rested nearby.
For several moments, none of them spoke.
The silence inside the tent felt heavier than the winter outside.
Kaelen finally broke it.
"We wait for reinforcements."
His tone was direct and unwavering.
"A report was already sent to the capital through magic communication shortly after the battle ended. If the transmission reached them without interference, the Royal Knights should already be approaching Frostwall by now."
Soren's gaze lowered slightly toward the maps spread across the table.
"That assumes the demons remain inactive," he replied calmly. "We already know the situation has deviated from expected patterns."
Kaelen frowned faintly but did not interrupt.
Soren continued.
"We should secure the surrounding area immediately. Scout the forest, confirm the condition of the perimeter, and identify whether additional gates or demon activity exist nearby."
His expression darkened slightly.
"The demons withdrawal does not guarantee safety."
The words settled heavily inside the tent.
Because everyone present understood the truth behind them.
A Demon Baron choosing to retreat was not reassuring.
It was unsettling.
Aelion remained silent for a moment before finally nodding.
"I agree with the scouting proposal," he said. "But before anything else, the civilians must be relocated properly."
His gaze shifted toward the tent entrance, where distant movement from the refugee camp could still be seen beyond the canvas.
"The villagers have already lost their homes. Many are wounded, exhausted, and vulnerable. Leaving them near Oakhaven while demon activity remains unresolved would be irresponsible."
Kaelen crossed his arms.
"You have a destination in mind?"
"The nearest settlement east of the Veilwood," Aelion answered immediately. "It's small, but defensible enough to shelter them temporarily."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"My squadron will escort them personally."
The Tempest Knights were not ordinary temple warriors.
Among the Temple of Wind's military forces, only three active squadrons existed across the continent. Their deployment alone signified that the situation had already surpassed the level of an ordinary demon incursion.
Kaelen studied Aelion for a moment before giving a slow nod.
"That's acceptable."
Soren agreed quietly.
"The civilians take priority. We can't fight effectively while protecting refugees at the same time."
The discussion continued for some time afterward, moving between supply shortages, scouting routes, and defensive preparations. Yet despite the practical matters filling the conversation, the same unspoken thought lingered beneath everything.
Mreylin.
None of them could fully understand why he had withdrawn.
Not completely.
But one detail remained impossible to ignore.
His attention had shifted near the end of the battle.
Toward Kein.
By the time the meeting concluded, the sun had already risen high above the encampment.
The pale winter light reflected across the snowfields surrounding the camp, giving the frozen landscape an almost peaceful appearance despite the devastation hidden nearby.
Aelion stepped outside the command tent and exhaled slowly.
The cold air carried traces of smoke from Oakhaven even now.
His thoughts drifted back toward the battlefield.
More specifically—
toward the light Kein had used.
Authority.
The memory remained vivid in his mind.
The thin beam itself had not been overwhelmingly powerful. Compared to the techniques used during the battle, it had appeared unstable and incomplete.
Yet Mreylin had reacted to it immediately.
Not because of its strength.
Because of what it represented.
Aelion's expression hardened slightly.
Divine Techniques and Authority were fundamentally different powers.
Most people across the continent failed to understand the distinction.
Divine Techniques were blessings distributed through the temples. Those selected by the Grand Sanctifiers inherited fragments of divine power refined into forms ordinary humans could withstand. Though limited compared to true Authority, those powers remained exceptionally effective against demons.
Authority itself, however, existed on an entirely different level.
It was not imitation.
It was direct permission from a God.
Only those recognized by divine beings themselves could wield it safely. Even among the temples, individuals capable of receiving Authority were extraordinarily rare.
The Saints.
Or as older records described them—
The Proxies of Gods.
For a human to become a proxy, countless conditions needed to align. Talent alone was meaningless. Strength alone was insufficient. Even devotion did not guarantee qualification.
The human body simply was not designed to contain divine authority easily.
Which was why Kein's existence made no sense.
He was still a child.
Not even old enough to undergo a proper blessing ritual.
Yet somehow—
he had used Authority.
Aelion narrowed his eyes slightly.
Not Divine Technique.
Authority.
Even now, the difference unsettled him.
Because he had seen power like that before.
Years ago.
In the presence of the Saint of the Temple of Wind.
Elsewhere within the encampment, Kein walked quietly alongside the displaced villagers.
Marcus and Elara remained alive.
That alone still felt unreal to him.
After ensuring they reached safety within the forest during the chaos of the battle, he had slipped away from them before they could stop him. He knew it had been reckless, but he could not stand aside while everything unfolded again before his eyes.
Yet despite interfering—
despite changing events—
the future had not improved in the way he hoped.
His memories no longer guided him clearly.
Instead, every action he took seemed to create another deviation.
Another branch.
The battle with Mreylin proved that more than anything else.
In his previous life, the Demon Baron had never appeared this early.
The Tempest Knights had never arrived at Oakhaven.
And Kein himself…
had never revealed Authority.
He clenched his hands slightly.
The future was changing faster than he could predict.
And that terrified him more than the demons themselves.
Aelion oversaw the refugee escort personally.
Tempest Knights moved throughout the caravan in disciplined formations while adventurers and mercenaries assisted with carrying supplies and protecting the outer edges of the group.
As Aelion walked near the center of the procession, his eyes briefly settled on Kein once again.
The boy remained quiet.
Too quiet.
Most children who survived a massacre either cried, panicked, or clung desperately to their families.
Kein did none of those things.
Instead, he watched.
Observed.
Calculated.
Aelion looked away after a moment.
Curiosity alone was not justification to pry into someone's secrets.
Especially not secrets connected to Authority.
Still—
the resemblance between Kein's power and the Saint he once witnessed remained impossible to ignore.
Later that evening, Kaelen received another report.
One of the communication mages approached quickly before kneeling beside the command post.
"The Royal Knights confirmed deployment, Commander."
Kaelen's expression sharpened immediately.
"Estimated arrival?"
"At dawn."
The messenger hesitated briefly before adding:
"The Blizzard Squadron is leading the response force."
A faint shift passed through Kaelen's expression.
Relief.
For the first time since the battle began, some of the tension left his shoulders.
The Blizzard Squadron was not large.
At most, it consisted of twenty knights.
But numbers meant little when discussing elite royal units.
Every member of the Blizzard Squadron stood among the strongest warriors Varkas possessed. Mobilizing them was difficult under normal circumstances, yet once deployed, they functioned as a force capable of stabilizing entire regions alone.
Kaelen looked toward the distant snowfields beyond the camp.
This time, he did not feel the same uncertainty as before.
Because by dawn—
Varkas would finally send its strongest blade.
The Blizzard was coming.