Chapter 53 – The Scent of Smoke
The world shimmered and then went still.
The white light of teleportation faded, leaving behind the faint smell of ozone and the cold touch of dawn air.
When I opened my eyes, we were standing on uneven ground—grassland, stretching far and wide, painted in gray-blue hues beneath the last shreds of night.
Perfect landing, I thought, brushing invisible dust from my coat. Just outside the detection range of anything sentient. No surprises this time.
Behind me, Korr materialized with a dull thunk, the earth vibrating beneath his three-meter frame. His armor emitted faint whirring sounds as the mana conduits along his spine flared briefly before settling.
"Area secure," he rumbled, scanning the horizon. "No hostiles detected within immediate perimeter."
"Good," I murmured. "Stay low. This is an observation mission, not a crusade."
He turned his head slightly, his glowing white eye-slit focusing on me. "Acknowledged, Guild Master."
I closed my eyes for a moment, focusing on the mana around me. Then, with a slow exhale, I cast a spell under my breath—[Cloak of Silent Dissonance]—an illusion-layered ward specifically designed to erase both visual and magical signatures. The spell wrapped around us like a transparent veil, bending light and mana alike.
To anyone looking this way, we were simply not there.
I double-layered it with another spell, [Null Echo], to silence all sound generated by our movement. Even Korr's heavy steps became nothing more than soft imprints on the grass.
"Visual and auditory suppression complete," I said quietly. "We're ghosts now."
"As you command."
The faint edge of sunrise was still miles away, a thin amber line barely touching the horizon.
The world was quiet except for the rhythmic hum of insects and the distant whisper of the wind.
Perfect conditions for reconnaissance.
I reached into my coat and pulled out the Grand Atlas, the WCI map I'd brought for this exact purpose. The moment I infused mana into it, the crystal disk lit up, unfurling into a semi-transparent projection.
Before me, a three-dimensional grid of terrain emerged—hills, valleys, scattered forest lines, and faint blue motes marking life signatures.
Most were wildlife.
Some were faint and moving in unison—a group of humans, approximately fifty, making steady progress along the main road toward the west.
Their mana signatures were neutral.
Not enemies. Not monsters.
Humans.
"There," I whispered. "About six kilometers ahead."
Korr leaned forward slightly. "Estimated troop composition?"
"Fifty men, maybe a few horses. Armor density low—light infantry, possibly scouts or a patrol."
The faintest smirk touched my lips. "And judging from their formation discipline, definitely soldiers."
I zoomed the map in closer, and a single mana signature caught my attention—brighter, steadier, refined.
It pulsed differently from the others, balanced, like a core star in a field of fading lights.
"Found you," I muttered. "That must be Gazeff Stronoff."
The sun still hadn't broken the horizon, but my racial senses didn't need it.
The Ear-Eyes Corpse body was built for perception.
I could see everything—heat signatures, mana flows, even the faint trails of breath mist rising from the soldiers ahead.
Five kilometers was nothing. I adjusted the focus of my sight, and the distant figures sharpened into clarity.
A company of armored soldiers, marching briskly across the dew-soaked fields. Their armor gleamed faintly in the gray light, steel catching the last reflection of the moon.
At the front rode two men on horseback.
One broad-shouldered, wearing full plate armor, a crimson cloak fluttering behind him.
The other slightly smaller, less decorated but sharp-eyed.
Their voices carried faintly through the air—soft vibrations I could sense, the tone of command and respect interwoven.
"Audio lock," I murmured. "Filter out background chatter."
Immediately, the distant murmur of fifty conversations faded away until only two remained.
Person 1: "Warrior-Captain, we're almost at the first village on our patrol route."
Person 2: "Ah, yes, Vice-Captain."
Person 1: "I hope they're all right…"
Person 2: "…So do I."
My eyes narrowed slightly. There he is.
The second voice was calm but commanding, each word weighted with quiet authority.
Even without seeing his face clearly, I could tell—this was a man used to being obeyed, respected, followed.
The Warrior-Captain, Gazeff Stronoff.
I'd read his name a dozen times in documents, but hearing him speak… there was something undeniably solid about him. No arrogance, no pretense. Just a soldier doing what he believed was right.
Korr remained still beside me, silent sentinel that he was, but I caught him turning slightly, his sensors registering the distant heat signatures.
"Fifty human life forms confirmed"
"That's him," I said quietly.
"He is strong."
"Strong enough that the King himself would trust him with this mission. But not strong enough to warrant sending him alone."
I frowned slightly. Something's not adding up.
The soldiers continued talking.
Most of the chatter was mundane—discussions about supplies, their families, the weather, even one about someone's pregnant wife.
Real people, I thought absently. They talk about life even as they march toward death. That's the difference between them and the code-born.
But then the same two voices stood out again—captain and vice-captain.
Their conversation deepened, sharper now, edged with frustration.
VICE-CAPTAIN:
"Warrior-Captain, just having us do the searching is pointless. Couldn't we bring everyone from the warrior band and have them help us? We could also hire adventurers from E-Rantel to help us out. Why are you doing this?"
GAZEFF:
"…Enough, Vice-Captain. Things might go poorly if someone heard that Imperial knights were running loose in the Kingdom's territory."
VICE-CAPTAIN:
"Warrior-Captain, there's nobody here. You don't have to stand on ceremony, but I hope you can tell me the truth. Was it those nobles?"
GAZEFF:
"…"
VICE-CAPTAIN:
"Those damned nobles, treating human lives like pieces in their power struggles! And on top of that, since this is the King's domain, they can use any problems here to take shots at the King."
GAZEFF:
"…Not all nobles think that way."
VICE-CAPTAIN:
"And maybe you're right, Warrior-Captain, and there are some nobles who think of the people. For example, the Golden Princess. But apart from her, there's practically no one else…
If only the Kingdom was ruled by a dictator, couldn't we ignore those damn nobles and work for the good of the people?"
GAZEFF:
"If you interfere too strongly, it might lead to a civil war that would tear the Kingdom apart. Given that we're facing the threat of the Empire's expanding ambitions, a war like that would be a disaster for the common folk."
VICE-CAPTAIN:
"I know that, but…"
GAZEFF:
"Just leave this matter aside for—"
GAZEFF:
"…Smoke."
GAZEFF:
"Everyone, we're moving. Quickly now!"
"Smoke," I echoed softly, eyes narrowing.
I zoomed my vision again, scanning the distance toward the horizon.
Sure enough, a thin column of dark smoke was rising from beyond a low ridge, barely visible against the gray morning light.
"Looks like something's burning," I said.
"Possible village settlement," Korr replied. "Thermal readings confirm high-temperature activity approximately nine kilometers ahead. Fire still active."
"Then that's our destination."
"Engagement parameters?"
"None," I said firmly. "We follow. No interference."
"Acknowledged."
The soldiers ahead began to quicken their pace.
Through the faint ripples of heat, I could see Gazeff raise a gauntleted hand, signaling the advance. Horses whinnied, men shouted orders, and the patrol transformed into a moving line of urgency, racing toward the distant smoke.
I watched them go for a few seconds before moving as well.
"Let's move, Korr."
The automaton nodded, his massive frame dissolving into semi-invisibility as I renewed the illusion over us. We followed the group silently, matching their speed from a distance.
It didn't take long before the smell reached even my dulled undead senses—burnt wood, ash, and the unmistakable copper tang of blood.
The Ear-Eyes Corpse body amplified everything. I could hear the faint crackle of fire, the creak of broken beams, and the dying moans of survivors too weak to scream.
It wasn't a battle anymore.
It was aftermath.
When we crested the final ridge, the scene spread before us like a painting of tragedy.
The village below was half in ruins—homes smoldering, livestock scattered, bodies sprawled in the mud.
Gazeff and his men arrived moments later, dismounting and spreading out to assess the damage.
Even from a distance, I could see the tension in his movements—the way his shoulders tightened, his jaw set. This wasn't just duty for him. It was personal.
"Scout the perimeter!" he barked, his voice sharp and commanding even from here. "Search for survivors! If anyone's still alive, we save them!"
The men obeyed instantly, fanning out through the burning wreckage.
Korr stood beside me, silent as always, his optics scanning.
"Hostile presence absent. Estimated attackers evacuated less than one hour prior."
"Which means they were organized," I said quietly. "Professional hit-and-run. Too fast for a bandit raid. Too clean for monsters."
"Conclusion?"
"Human," I said simply. "And not just any humans—trained soldiers."
I zoomed the Grand Atlas's range wider, searching for any lingering mana trails.
There—faint flickers of red dots moving rapidly eastward, already fading. Whoever attacked had retreated efficiently.
"They're gone," I murmured. "At least twenty of them, moving fast."
"Should we pursue?" Korr asked.
I shook my head. "No. Gazeff's already on their trail, even if he doesn't know it yet. Our job is to watch."
"Understood."
I lowered the map slightly and watched as Gazeff knelt beside one of the fallen villagers.
He didn't flinch at the sight of the corpses. He just closed the man's eyes gently and murmured something I couldn't hear.
A prayer, maybe.
Even at this distance, I could feel it—his resolve.
This was no ordinary soldier.
This was someone who carried the weight of his kingdom on his shoulders… and still worried about peasants in forgotten villages.
Interesting, I thought. He's not a fool, not a tyrant, not even a zealot. Just a man doing what he believes is right. And in a world like this, that might be the rarest power of all.
The sky was starting to lighten now, streaks of orange bleeding through the clouds.
The soldiers began organizing the survivors, tending to the wounded, and extinguishing what fires remained.
Through it all, Gazeff didn't rest.
He moved from one villager to the next, personally checking for signs of life, giving orders with calm precision.
I watched him silently, studying every motion.
Power wasn't always measured in levels.
Sometimes, it was in how people carried themselves when the world around them burned.
And as I stood there, invisible in the shadows, I couldn't help but wonder:
if Gazeff represented the strength of this world's humanity…
…what would happen when humanity met the monsters from Yggdrasil?
"Ren-sama," HIME's voice echoed faintly through the link. "Status update?"
"Observation ongoing," I replied. "Gazeff Stronoff confirmed. Target currently rescuing survivors. Enemy signatures retreating east, no pursuit initiated."
"Shall I dispatch additional Hanzo units to shadow them?"
"Do it," I said quietly. "Let's find out who's behind this attack. Whoever set this up wants the Kingdom's hero out of the way—and that means they're more dangerous than they look."
"Understood, Ren-sama. I will begin data triangulation."
"Good."
End of Chapter 53 – The Scent of Smoke