Chapter 3: Head-On Confrontation

“This is the place known as the Cursed Fortress—Fort Damansky?” Karu took a deep breath and gazed into the distance. The towering Fort Damansky wasn’t particularly high, but the flat landscape surrounding it made the fortress-like structure appear especially steep and abrupt. Its dark walls seemed to have a long history; the moss clinging to them dried, fell off, and grew back again, without diminishing the castle’s simple and rustic style. Instead, it added a sense of historical depth, making one feel as though they were in a city with a long history like Jazair or Gutenberg.

Seeing such a plain and unadorned building in such a desolate place undoubtedly brought joy to both Karu and Boriz. The people who lived here seemed untouched by darkness and corruption. Though ideals often diverged from reality, Karu and Boriz couldn’t help but think so.

“It must be here. I can’t imagine there being another castle like this. Just one already is astonishing enough.” Boriz was also visiting the Caucasus for the first time. Ugru gave him a very good impression. Although he always viewed places critically, he rarely found anything displeasing about them. His only regret was that there were fewer half-orcs and barbarians—actually, there were far fewer in Ugru than in Muscat. Most of the inhabitants were wealthy families from Melen, Main, and Susor. With the lord’s residence here, the town’s development was among the best in the entire Caucasus.

“It seems our lord we’re going to meet really knows how to enjoy life. A castle like this would be first-rate even in Jazair or Cyprus,” Karu said jokingly. “I wonder if this lord, who’s just been promoted to viscount, is worthy of such a legacy?”

“Then let’s assess him. Hopefully, he won’t disappoint us, nor overwhelm us with joy,” Boriz said, delivering a surprisingly profound remark that made Karu nod slightly.

Mighty and ferocious orcish guards stood armed at both sides of the gate, but to the two of them, they were nothing more than scarecrows. Of course, the two didn’t think this was the other side showing off; after all, these orcish soldiers still served to deter those who came from elsewhere with no place to go in search of easy gains. They also helped maintain a balance of power between orcs and humans. Karu could tell that the young man approaching quickly was no ordinary person, but just how extraordinary he was would depend on his assessment after getting to know him.

“Welcome, friends from Marco. We hope you will bring more light to this remote land of ours,” Komer said, his face still wearing that composed smile, yet the sincerity and joy in it were utterly genuine, without a trace of pretense. His clear gaze met Karu and Boriz’s sharp eyes with calmness. Aside from instinctively avoiding their piercing looks due to discomfort, Komer’s behavior was quite ordinary.

After exchanging glances, neither Karu nor Boriz detected any particular meaning in each other’s eyes, but both sensed disappointment deep within the other party. Karu, however, felt a bit more at ease. To be honest, they didn’t notice anything unusual. Although the other party avoided their gazes, it was part of their deliberate testing. Anyone would react to such intense stares—either by avoiding or resisting. If there was no reaction at all, it meant either the person had no magical skills at all or was extremely inscrutable. Resistance undoubtedly indicated hostility, while avoidance was the most normal reaction.

“Hehe, My Lord Viscount, the God of Light never abandons her followers. Any believer who holds faith in the gods will receive their protection. It is with this belief that we have come to the Caucasus, hoping to bring peace and tranquility to your domain.”

Karu and Boriz weren’t good at this kind of preaching, which resembled slogans, typical of ordinary missionaries. But as high-ranking clergy members of the Church of Light, they were well-versed in such clichéd rhetoric and could deliver it convincingly. Still, it fell short compared to those missionaries who could talk for hours without stopping, giving it a somewhat awkward tone.

“Sir Monk, thank you for your kindness and generosity. For a noble ideal and belief, you have traveled thousands of miles to this remote land to spread blessings here. I believe the great God of Light will surely shine His holy light upon this place, allowing the people of all races who revere Him to see the light and be bathed in His grace.” Such nonsense, not even worthy of being spoken by dogs, was also hard for Komer to utter. Yet, facing two judges who were not very good at rhetoric either, his skill seemed to be slightly superior.

After some insincere flattery, both sides moved on to the main topic—ranging from the development trends of the Church of Light in the Caucasus to the unchecked practice of natural worship among various races. Boriz kept provoking them in an attempt to break their psychological defenses. Although Spirit Perception found nothing valuable about them, that unpleasant intuition mentioned by Karu also gave him a sense—something not good at all—like a loach hiding in the mud; you always feel its presence but can never catch it.

Karu, on the other hand, kept his mouth shut and focused entirely on improving his perception abilities. This guy seemed to be covered in layers of masks, shrouded in mystery. Spirit Perception yielded very little useful information about him. Apart from confirming that his fundamental magic was of the thunder type, hardly anything valuable could be found.

One thing was still clear, however: aside from his fundamental thunder magic, this guy seemed to be pursuing unorthodox paths as well. He possessed some mixed magical energies, which further supported external speculation—that he was not just an ordinary magician but a powerful being with at least the qualifications and strength of a Grand Mage. It was hard to imagine such a formidable figure appearing in a remote place like the Caucasus. Moreover, based on what was known, he seemed to have had little opportunity to come into contact with mages, aside from those two years in exile. Yet, to rise from an ordinary person who had not even begun learning magic to the level of a Grand Mage in just two or three years? That was utterly unbelievable.

Komer felt as if he were in a furnace, with sweat pouring out all over his body. On the surface, he had to maintain a composed and noble demeanor, but deep down he realized that if this continued, he might truly reveal his weaknesses. The two men’s abilities to sense and explore were extremely strong, searching meticulously within his body inch by inch. Even though he had compressed the core of his dark primal magic to the smallest possible size and released the rest of it last night, he could still feel the burning pain caused by their light magic searching throughout his body.

He had to switch from defense to offense; otherwise, he would eventually be exposed by them. Komer took a soft breath and used coffee to adjust his internal state. The relentless pressure forced him to exert every effort to conceal his true condition.

“Dear monks, I warmly welcome you to stay here. I believe that with your help, Priest Belan and Pastor Kustav will be greatly strengthened, and the teachings of light will surely spread more widely. The people here are too closed-minded and conservative and need to be enlightened. If the Church of Light can achieve this, I’m sure its popularity here will increase significantly.”

Taking advantage of their request, Komer threw this problem back at them. For the mostly illiterate half-orcs, enlightenment couldn’t be achieved just through preaching—it required a combination of incentives and threats, both the ability to feed them and the power to punish them if necessary. Only then would they obey. Since the Church of Light thought it could achieve this through words alone, he might as well be generous for now, knowing they couldn’t stay here for long. Komer chose to appear even more friendly.

The one-and-a-half-hour meeting left Karu and Boriz extremely frustrated. Karu was somewhat prepared for this, but for Boriz, this fruitless exchange of empty words was pure waste of time.

Back at the inn, Boriz was still angry. His opponent was too cunning—every word lacked substance, even the seemingly wonderful promises were hollow. They could find countless objective reasons to delay or even refuse, and his attempts to sense them yielded nothing. Yet this didn’t diminish Boriz’s doubts.

“Karu, I think we can’t let him lead us around by the nose like this. Everything he says is true, but it’s only superficial. I think it’s necessary for us to explore that Damorsk Castle. He’s clearly a powerful elemental magician, yet he refuses to live in the castle. Isn’t there something strange about that? Could it be that he deliberately doesn’t want outsiders to enter Damorsk Castle to prevent secrets from leaking?” One has to admit Boriz’s sense is extremely keen—he at least guessed some of Komer’s concerns. The special dark eyes of Damorsk Castle easily evoke many associations.