Black Rock City borders a small country affiliated with Aran and is the starting point of the Mulong Railroad.
Though it has been less than a year since it was converted into a duchy, in its kingdom days, this place frequently traded with Aran and Beima. Famous products from the Far East, shipped from Beima’s East Coast, were sold by merchants to land traders who resold them at exorbitant prices in Golden Palm Port, west of the Narrow Sea, often passing through this place.
In these times of great turmoil, powerful nations constantly struggle, and full-scale war could break out at any moment.
For the wealthy west of the Narrow Sea, the import prices of Far Eastern products are high, and even during wartime, escort teams take great risks. With the railroad far from complete, the last few years of this sunset industry are crucial for those who’ve made a living off it all their lives.
As long as it doesn’t enter Uborio’s occupied zone, taking a detour to Golden Palm Port is still worthwhile.
Thus, Black Rock City, even amidst the tense warfare of Mulong, continues to have commercial activity.
The city was named Black Rock because, centuries ago, a legendary caster fell here, subdued after a fierce battle, causing the surrounding land to be vitrified and carbonized by flaming spells.
Some of the uplifted strata from the explosion turned into black crystalline walls, forming natural fortifications about twenty meters high. The barely transparent crystal spikes, forming the city wall, exuded an eerie chill under the blood-red remnants of the sun.
The Aran Army stationed troops here, and the Eternal Sect had made it their missionary stronghold.
It was the main base of the invading forces.
Hooves pounded as a living dead rider with a distinctive mechanical arm, unlike ordinary traders, galloped to the crystal walls’ gap, the city’s entrance.
Naturally, he was stopped by the army.
Despite advances in magic energy industry, even rapid-firing guns were insufficient to pierce armor infused with alchemy ore.
The Aran Iron Cavalry, clad in silver steel armor, was the army’s strongest force. The elegant design of their articulated joints and the layers and textures of the armor exuded a powerful beauty. Each step made the heavy chains clink. The helmets had only a Y-shaped slit, leaving their expressions terrifyingly unknown.
Though lacking magical patterns, the armor was infused with magic ore. They wielded great swords and big spears.
The number of such soldiers was beyond count.
If a general went into battle, their armor imbued with magical patterns and their supreme martial art skills could achieve a thousand kills alone.
The Aran Lion Army was unstoppable.
"Who are you? According to the Continent Transportation Law, the railroad’s sections are Aran territory, and by the Aran Constitution, this city’s control belongs to our army. State your purpose and provide proof of identity."
An army soldier, holding a great sword, stopped Magnus and recited the routine.
Zote should be in the city.
Magnus knew nothing of Henrik’s past or his wife.
For him, it was a distant concept, a woman’s head forever rolling in a vague dream, a man’s hanged body forever rising.
The mission hammered into his memory’s foundation: if not resolved, it seemed his life had never truly begun and might as well end there.
He had to stop the rolling head and pull down the rising body.
Magnus felt, at the city’s feet, that he could finally exert some strength in that dream.
Recommended by Marcus, he entered the Eternal Sect orphanage and grew up treated as a noble orphan. Though without a position in the sect, he was a senior member, despite never believing in the Dragon Lord.
In wartime, for Aran officials, the believer’s identity was more reliable than the concerning existence of the living dead.
He showed his believer’s armband.
Like Marcus’s armband on his chain armor, it emitted the Eternal Sect’s unique energy waves, impossible to replicate or imitate.
If Magnus had been a begging refugee, the Aran Military Master would have mercifully let him in.
But unluckily, orders from above dictated obstructing the sect and hampering their operations in Mulong, as long as they weren’t killed, anything else was permissible.
"Regrettably, the sect’s actions in Mulong are under scrutiny by Royal Court orders. You can leave, I won’t let you in."
The army disregarded Magnus.
On ordinary days, Magnus would find other lodging or camp outside.
But today was different.
The sky was scorched red by the blazing blood sun, and on the carbonized land, mist-like drift sand meandered.
Seeing him refuse to leave, the army had murderous intentions and, without warning, swung a powerful sword to cut Magnus in half.
But Magnus was too fast.
Sheathing his broken knife forged from Ancient Divine Steel.
The soldier’s half helmet and great sword fell to the ground with a loud clang. He clutched the bleeding line on his nose, spraying blood.
Unbelieving, someone dared to attack them in the Aran war zone. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ novel·fiɾe·net
Was this a lone assault on the city?
The rapid-fire guns were ineffective against the strong; soldiers in the sentry towers raised their magic-guided rifles.
Magnus didn’t intend to force his way in. Knowing the army and sect’s discord, he hadn’t expected such hostility, even barring his entry.
"I am here to kill the leader of the Eighteenth Formation of the Time Sword."
The sentry tower soldiers didn’t know, but the two guarding soldiers understood the army’s higher movements.
The so-called Black Sail raid force had only one person, but a rare master among a million.
The soldier, struck by Magnus, said. Such a wound was nothing; the mechanical arm hadn’t killed him.
The other city guard understood and stepped aside, "The one you seek is in the newly built church in the city."
Magnus hesitated for a moment.
He glanced back at his black horse, Zhao Yue.
Only one crippled heroic-level adventurer in the world knew Magnus.
His only kin was a mindless hunting horse.
Dozens of Golden Dragons fell from Magnus’s purse, scattering on the ground, the soldiers gaping. Even for a Military Master, this was unattainable income.
"This horse is called Zhao Yue, a top hunter of the Gureg Royal Hunting Grounds, swift as the wind, chasing the sand, crossing rivers to ice. It can gallop across the world. If I fall today, please return it to Gureg; the money left over serves as travel expenses and gifts."
With that, Magnus entered Black Rock City without looking back, stepping on the strange black brick streets.
Even soldiers, wounded by the living dead and still bleeding, were moved with respect. In fame and fortune, genuine heroes were rare.
"Is that the one sent by Black Sail? I doubt it; he looks nothing like a pirate."
"Who knows. Maybe he’s an outsider Liszt found. Unfortunately, heroes are often used by the petty and base."
Picking up the Golden Dragons, the friend led Zhao Yue to the stable.
Looking down the road, the swordsman was gone.
"I heard... the Eighteenth Formation’s leader is no simple person. It’s rumored he’s an old Aran remnant."
"Is it so? Well, it sure looks like that guy is in a hurry to reincarnate. We’ll soon find out."