William was proven right a few years later. The number of Dragon Knights that dropped on their shores decreased until there were none. The number of Beastly Aris members also dropped, as the funds for the invasions decreased.
The invasions slowed down, from once every year to once every three or four years. And even then, it did not matter.
Without the Sanctum Draconis and the Beastly Aris actively participating, the invasions consisted of riff raffs, soldiers of kingdoms, nobles, or mercenaries that were hardly a threat.
Vakuman casualty numbers dropped significantly. The cities on the lands of Liuk were not ravaged time and time again; no force made it to the Iron Mountain range. The threat of the invasions had been reduced to nothing.
A thousand-year-long war felt like it had ended. Liuk no longer required support from the Empire or the Southern Lands; it could fend off the rabble on its own. It was as if there was peace.
William had purposely spread rumors that the Rakaru Knights would stop participating in the war, but let the reason remain ambiguous, prompting the Dragon Knights and the Warriors of the Beast to come to their conclusion.
Vakuma was unaware of what conclusion they had reached, but they did know the things that mattered.
No longer was their land defiled, no longer did hundreds of thousands have to die every decade, no longer did thousands of soldiers have to die, no longer did Knights have to die to defend their home.
A thousand casualties became a few dozen. A thousand years on the defense, Vakuman defenses were unbreakable unless the opponent was someone of extremely high caliber, like the Dragon Knights or the Warriors of the Beast.
They didn't have to talk about the invasions with hushed voices; the people in power discussed them, but with leisure instead of worry. No longer were the people of Liuk troubled by the invasions.
William was called a coward, a traitor, and the worst stain, the disgrace of the Rakaru Family, by most of the continent, but he had done the one thing that no one had managed to do in a thousand years.
He had reduced the invasions to a pathetic little threat, not a disaster. Things proceeded this way almost all of Ethan's life, until the day that his father, Evan Rakaru, son of William Rakaru, killed him, and shortly after. Ethan found himself in Alapur, fighting for his life against a cosmic horror.
The Traitor slain by the Prodigal Son. The Rightful heir, the blade of Light, killed the Disgrace.
------
Back in Alapur, things proceeded the same way Ethan remembered, although a little faster. Ravu saved him in the clearing and brought him to the Village to be treated. Ethan recovered faster, and Igimo did as well. He realized who Ethan was and protected him out of guilt. Igimo nursed Ethan and waited patiently for him to heal.
The only difference was that the Expedition hadn't begun. Igimo had not felt any ominous presence from the forest, and Ravu had not encountered anything in the blizzard. Ethan had told him what had happened, but added that he had 'killed' the threat. Surprisingly, Ian and Igimo believed him, although Ethan believed that it was due to the will of the 'Beast God'.
Ian was still suspicious of him, but he listened to Igimo well.
"..."
Ethan took in a deep breath, letting the cold air refresh his body from within. He looked out from the window with an exhausted expression. It had been a few days since he arrived in the village, and everyone seemed to have forgotten about him, or didn't pay any attention to him, although a few of the women wouldn't stop looking at him.
He understood that it was the same back on Vakuma; he had the two best genes on the damn continent, and both his parents were extremely charming. Ethan may not have inherited his Ki reserves from his parents, but he sure did inherit their good looks.
Ethan sighed, closing the window. He slapped himself, ridding himself of his lethargy, and took a deep breath. He had a few issues to deal with, the most important of which was the fact that he was stuck on an enemy continent. One that had been at war with itself for a thousand years.
He knew nothing, nothing about Alapur. Due to the cursed sea, Vakuma had always been on defense, and the little information he did have was about the frontier kingdoms and the dominant empire of Alapur.
However, he was far, far away from those places, in some backwater principality. He was tens of thousands of kilometers away from home, and he was stuck. He needed to figure out how to get to the frontier kingdoms without his head on a pike, and find a way through the cursed sea, find a way back home.
That was the most pressing concern: how must he navigate this foreign land, where he knew neither language nor custom. How must he proceed? How? How?
How?
And that was merely one worry, although the biggest one. He was still worried about the huntress. What was her power? What was her deal? What relation did she have with his family?
What was the truth behind those shadows, those that resembled the heads of the Rakaru Family? What were they?
He had many questions, but only one answer.
Ethan had figured out what had happened. The Huntress did not make him see an illusion; rather, she had killed him.
Not once, but twice. She had killed him; it was no illusion she had conjured up, but rather reality.
Ethan Rakaru had returned from death, not once, but twice.