The master realm expert reported his findings to the council, solidifying the leaders' suspicions that Kendrick was involved in this all. Tirlis still had his doubts but didn't voice them. He was busy with his own things and didn't have time to address this. This development complicated a lot of things, but they pressed on, not retreating a single step. They had invested too much into this and were simply waiting for a sign to move forward.
"Maybe this rain is one of the signs," one leader suggested, prompting some contemplation. However, it wasn't enough to convince everyone, so they resolved to bide their time and watch..
Days passed, and Erik assigned his administrative work to the officials he had appointed to manage the city and only dealt with the issues that they couldn't like the riot. The people demanded that Erik let them use the tunnel, and he let them, but they had found out that the tunnel had collapsed. This news left many hopeless, and though they cursed him in their hearts, they knew they were now stuck with him. They weren't foolish enough to shoot themselves in the foot.
After dealing with this mess, Erik returned to his training—the very reason he had come to Iron'Heits, before getting entangled in the war. Some might say he was unlucky, but he had gained something beyond his wildest dreams, so was it really his misfortune?
Carrying on, Erik didn't let it get to him. Though the massacre had affected him, there was nothing he could do about it now. His impulse and anger had gotten the best of him at the time, and he let them walk to their death. He knew it wasn't the moment to sulk; he needed to be strong enough to face what was coming next, might be a war if they didn't handle the issue correctly and it will end with only one result, a massacre.
He found the solution, putting it like that was wrong. It was as if the solution had presented itself. He looked at the mess the explosions were causing and was relieved. At least something was causing the Alliance trouble.
Meanwhile, Valcroy was busy training his body, feeling that he was reaching his limits. He checked his Force Index (FI), a measure of the power behind a punch, kick, or other physical strikes, used to quantify the impact force in a structured way—courtesy of a magician with too much free time at his/her hand.
A dummy with no head and torso appeared before him, filled with the Veritasian language. Valcroy took a deep breath, dug his feet into the ground, and stared at the dummy for a moment before striking. His bent arm straightened as his fist struck the dummy.
Bam!
The dummy moved back and forth as it vibrated to absorb the power behind the punch and started pulsing. Valcroy stood and waited for the result, which soon appeared.
[59 FI]
Valcroy stared at the number, wide-eyed, he thought he was dreaming. He hadn't expected it to be this high. A powerful punch from an average human or skilled fighter typically measured around 10 FI. For novice realm artists, the Force Index reached 50 FI when they reached the peak of the novice realm, after using mana to temper their muscles to their limit.
"Where do I fit in that realm?" he wondered. He hadn't even finished his basic body training and had expected his Force Index to be around 7 or 8, maybe 9 at best. But 59? He looked around for answers and located someone who could provide them. "Young Master Erik," he called out loud.
Erik opened his eyes and glanced at Valcroy. Noticing the dummy beside him, Erik assumed Valcroy was wondering how much more tempering he needed before progressing to the next step.
He stood up and walked over to him, about to tell him not to be impatient. But he stopped when his eyes landed on the dummy, or more specifically, on the number displayed.
'Does he want me to reset it?' Erik wondered in his mind, but then remembering he couldn't use mana yet, that might be the case.
Erik placed his hand on the dummy and infused mana with it, activating a specific Veritasian word, and the number disappeared. He then stepped aside, allowing Valcroy to test his strength, but he stayed close by, curious to see how much Valcroy had progressed.
Valcroy, still pondering, dismissed the first strike as a mistake. Might be some residual mana in the dummy when someone tested it before.
He took a deep breath and set his stance: his left foot slightly forward, right foot angled back for stability, knees slightly bent to lower his center of gravity, and hips rotated slightly to align with the punch. His torso was engaged, with a straight back and tightened core muscles.
His left arm was pulled back, elbow bent at about 90 degrees, while his right arm was positioned in a guard—unnecessary at the moment, but a habit doesn't go away easily. He clenched his fist, wrist straight, with knuckles aligned to ensure maximum impact.
After preparing, he threw the punch. His hips and torso rotated, transferring energy from his lower body to his upper body, and his arm extended rapidly toward the target.
Baam!
The dummy took the full force of his punch. Erik's eyebrows furrowed as he watched Valcroy's stance, then rose slightly when the punch connected.
The dummy rocked back and forth, vibrating, absorbed the power, and started pulsing again. Both of them watched, waiting for the result, which soon appeared.
[65 FI]
Valcroy was speechless, convinced that the dummy was faulty. Erik, however, had other thoughts. He could tell from Valcroy's punch that it was far from ordinary. Erik knew Valcroy could also use the Rejuvenation Aura—something Valcroy had named himself. He had told him about it, but even if he hadn't, Erik could have deduced that it would be linked to Valcroy.
"It's not malfunctioning," Erik said, noticing Valcroy's expression. He could easily guess what was going through Valcroy's mind and tested it himself. He wondered how much he had improved. He reset the dummy and stood before it. Unlike Valcroy, Erik didn't prepare; he simply threw a lazy punch, but with a twist.
Baaam!
The dummy moved back an inch and kept vibrating, absorbing the power in the punch. Erik had infused his fist with mana, boosting the force behind it to a new level. The result surprised Erik as well.
[510 FI]
He had already surpassed the intermediate realm, judging by what the dummy was telling him at least, and he had only just started strengthening his internal organs, not even completing one.
He turned around to see Valcroy staring at him in awe, his expression almost blinding with his sparkly eyes.
"Just train. You still haven't reached your limit yet," Erik said.
"Where is that?" Valcroy asked, having thought that reaching 10 FI was the limit for a human body. But now, it seemed there were other factors he didn't know about.
Erik paused, thinking for a moment before saying just one word: "100."
Valcroy nodded and eagerly returned to the weights, strapping them to himself, feeling as if he had unlocked a new level. Erik watched him for a while before resuming his own training. He used mana to nourish his muscles, a long and repetitive process that he had to continue until his muscles could no longer absorb any more mana. Right now, they were like a bottomless well, accepting as much mana as he could inject into them. This was a slow and tedious process.
He didn't neglect his mana control exercises, dividing his time into three parts: one for mana training, one for muscle strengthening, and the last for city management and other responsibilities.
Time passed, and the citizens of Iron'Heits, who had been living in hiding, started to come out. Although an army still waited outside, they were a little less fearful. The caravans couldn't leave the city nor did new ones enter, but at least the people were no longer confined to their homes.
Children began playing in the streets, and if not for the gloomy clouds overhead, everything would have seemed normal. Their laughter, mixed with their parents' scolding, echoed through the city. People started to feel as if their lives might return to normal soon. Even if it was a false hope, at least it was hope.
They received rations from the army, so there was no immediate concern about survival. However, many people couldn't sit idly by and wanted to do something productive, to be of help and mostly to relieve them of this tension and boredom. Erik didn't turn them away and had them assist the army in building more defenses.
While everything seemed to be going well, time passed and soon over two weeks had passed. Something felt different about the air in the Iron'Heits and intelligent individuals noticed this problem, which made them uneasy. They wanted answers, but no one was there to ask.
Erik was sitting in the war room, reading a report. Collum stood by his side, his eyebrows furrowed in a deep frown. The tense atmosphere in the room was palpable enough to make anyone nervous. But other than Erik, Collum, and Mallory, no one else was present. Erik cleaned them up and didn't let anyone else join them.
Collum waited for Erik to finish reviewing the report, which he did before turning to Collum. His words were sharp and direct and made sure to stab deep into Collum's chest: "There are no reinforcements. We are on our own."
This was an issue that many had observed. It had been over two weeks, yet there was no sign of reinforcements.
The royal capital, Ironheart—also known as Fort Ironclad in ancient times—should have been aware of the Alliance's plans by now and should have prepared an army to fight back. But here they were, two weeks later, with nothing—no reports, no reinforcements.
Collum had informed Erik about another tunnel a week ago, and they had sent someone out to report about the siege. But there had been no reply; the person had gone completely dark, leading them to assume the tunnel had been compromised.
Erik knew that was not the case, but chose not to correct the misunderstanding. What troubled him most was why the person they had sent hadn't reported back yet. No one from the Alliance seemed to know anything about him. At least the soldiers and the captain Gelman didn't know about them.
While tension in Iron'Heits was rising, the situation within the Alliance army had taken a new and exciting turn.
Boom!
Boom!
Now and then, an explosion could be heard, rocking the encampments, making one wonder what was going on. The Alliance leaders were growing increasingly frustrated as they tried to contain this "virus," but it was proving difficult. They couldn't tell when someone was infected until they lost their mind. And once infected, if anyone even touched them, they would become aggressive, and when they were on the verge of death, they would explode.
The only one benefitting from this was Tirlis, who now had plenty of experimental subjects. Many other leaders had also captured some and had been experimenting on them, but no one was as successful as Tirlis. He kept them unconscious, as they only exploded when they became too aggressive or were near death, and they can't do that when they were unconscious.
While his research saved the Alliance some trouble, it wasn't enough to extinguish the problem. They had already lost around 5% of their army to these explosions and didn't know how many more were infected. They could only isolate the wounded from the others, but that was just increasing the tension and might even drag the unaffected one and make them affected.
Morale was at an all-time low. Soldiers were wary of each other, not knowing when someone might turn and attack. Their nerves were stretched to the limit. Just as they thought this was the worst of it, a fresh development shocked everyone.
Late at night, a soldier was on patrol when he heard a noise. He decided to be brave and investigate it. When he arrived, he saw guts and flesh scattered on the ground, with one soldier eating something, his comrade, his face buried in the victim's chest, devouring everything inside. The sight made him jump in horror.
The infected soldier turned, and the soldier could see his red face and red eyes, his chest tore open and something squirmed where his heart should've been, tendrils shot out from it, like it was trying to get out but the ribs were proving it to be difficult and had confined it. The soldier ran when this infected one leaped at him. The patrolling soldier tried to flee, but this infected individual was much faster than any they had encountered before, and the soldier lost his life to this new and improved infected. It wasn't long before other soldiers found them and put the infected down, but this horrific creature made a house in their heart as a fearful expression painted everyone's face. But it wasn't over as the infected soldier gave them one last gift and...
Booomm!
The resulting explosion was far more extreme than anything they had seen from a mortal infected. And so, a new type of infected was introduced into the army—one that was faster and far more deadly.