# Chapter 115
Hest, who had been silently looking at Ion, turned his eyes forward and spoke as if sighing.
“I hope this all ends quickly.”
It felt like once this wretched war was over, everything would get better. Ion, who had become cold and merciless to everyone except one person, Levi who had always been used, and himself who had been watching them from afar with a heavy heart.
As Hest muttered as if lamenting, Ion showed an even stronger gaze.
“It won’t take long.”
This is the only chance.
It’s only because other countries are hesitating due to the tremendous impact of crushing the Kingdom of Altia.
If Ion and the Immortal Army remained tied up in the Caron Empire for too long, they would have to face fierce attacks from various nations once again. Although the Delos Empire wouldn’t collapse in an instant, the territories turning into seas of fire would inevitably increase. Eventually, Tis would have to move the Immortal Army here and there to minimize damage to the empire.
They needed to overthrow the Caron Empire before that.
That way, other nations would lose their strength and retreat completely, bringing an end to these troublesome matters.
As if to awaken Ion from his thoughts, one of the immortal soldiers who was riding ahead, keeping watch on the surroundings, shouted toward him.
“It’s in sight!”
Looking up, Ion could also see a sturdy fortress not far in the distance. Though not as formidable as the Iron Fortress, it looked difficult to conquer at first glance. Even with a variety of powerful siege weapons, it seemed like it would take days or even tens of days to break down the walls and towers and open the gates.
But for Ion now, it didn’t matter how sturdy the walls were. The five catapults they had brought, with their angles deliberately adjusted, weren’t meant to “destroy” the walls but to “go over” them.
As if sensing Ion’s thoughts, Hest clicked his tongue beside him and shook his head. He also glanced back, looking at the Immortal Army with a brief moment of sympathy.
“It won’t even take a day, so start getting ready.”
“For what?”
After briefly questioning Ion’s words, Hest made an “ah” sound a beat late and searched inside the small bag at his waist. What emerged in his hand was a small piece of paper, a portable quill, and a tiny ink bottle.
“You know the next marching direction without me saying, right?”
“Of course. You’re just insisting on the shortest route.”
Though Hest responded, his face showed displeasure.
“But wouldn’t it be easier if I said it’s difficult to report on time because I’m worried about your suspicions? Wouldn’t that bastard understand that much?”
“Then he’d suspect whether you’re really his man or not.”
Hest understood what Ion meant.
The fortress visible before them had formidable defenses that could be sensed even from a distance. Even on the wall, archers were densely lined up as if saying “come if you dare.”
Probably behind the archers were preparations like boiling oil or heated stones to pour on enemy troops trying to climb the walls. Inside the walls, there would also be several catapults to throw stones from inside to outside.
The problem was that this level of preparation came from Hest’s role as a spy.
“Is there really a need to make the path more difficult?”
Raziel’s order to Hest was to report every detail of Grand Duke Ion Verdit’s march.
As soon as Ion saw the note with Raziel’s order, he smiled and said “do as he wishes,” then headed to the imperial palace the next day to meet Tis.
That afternoon, Hest, who was leisurely drinking tea at his mansion, received a forced notice to join the Verdit army as they needed a tactical staff officer. It was natural for Hest’s face to crumple mercilessly as he obeyed the imperial command.
Thus, Hest, who ended up heading to the Caron Empire with Ion, was diligently reporting on their movements like the confident spy he was. When, in which direction, to attack where, and how they were marching.
If the enemy knows when, where, and how you’re coming, defenses will naturally be strengthened.
Hest’s diligent reporting to Raziel was the shortest path to increasing the difficulty of conquering each fortress. As a double agent, it was an unpleasant situation for Hest.
Nevertheless, Ion instructed him to report consistently regardless. This was partly to make Raziel continue to trust Hest, but also because Ion was confident that he could win in an instant no matter how well-fortified the defenses were.
“I’ll show them that no method is effective against me and my army.”
Even if the opponent showed impeccable defenses and deployed hundreds of thousands of powerful troops, it would be most welcome. The stronger the opponent, the greater the impact when they’re crushed.
If they demolished just a few fortresses in a matter of days, the impact would quickly spread throughout the continent. Then, the nations currently hesitating would be more concerned with calculating future possibilities and being cautious rather than thinking “now that the Caron Empire is being attacked, this is our opportunity.”
He didn’t want to be suddenly called away again to block and crush other nations when he wanted to focus solely on the Caron Empire, or rather, on Raziel.
He needed to invade the Caron imperial palace as soon as possible to meet Levi, who would be there.
‘You do what you need to do.’
He sent a message in his heart to Levi, who was far away.
‘I’ll come to get you.’
❖ ❖ ❖
“The preparations are complete.”
Marquis Anton Reifley, the prime minister of the Caron Empire, reported with a deep bow to Raziel.
Raziel, sitting alone on the imperial throne in the spacious hall, rested his chin on his black hand.
“Good work.”
Raziel’s voice was no different than usual. That made Anton even more anxious.
Grand Duke Ion Verdit, who had entered their country with just 5,000 troops, was unstoppable.
They had received early information about the marching route of the Verdit army and had powerfully reinforced the fortresses along that path. Nevertheless, they were conquered in just a day or two.
The Verdit army made good use of the fact that they were all “immortal.”
Instead of targeting the walls, they aimed beyond the walls—that is, the inside of the fortress—using catapults with adjusted angles to throw dozens or hundreds of immortal soldiers over.
Although the immortal soldiers wore sturdy armor and were well-trained, they couldn’t possibly be unharmed from being thrown like that.
They were broken, shattered, and fragmented in various ways. Nevertheless, because they were “immortal,” they rose again inside the walls they had crossed, attacked the Caron Empire’s soldiers, and opened the gates in an instant.
No matter how sturdy a fortress is, once the gates are opened and the inside is conquered, it’s bound to fall easily.
Each fortress was conquered using the same method. Although they hurriedly devised strategies to prevent immortal soldiers from crossing the walls and tried to block the ceilings, the Verdit army’s marching speed was too fast.
With tens of thousands of troops and various siege weapons, it might have been different, but their march with just 5,000 trained soldiers and five catapults was terrifyingly rapid.
Because of this, the fortresses fell helplessly without even being able to make proper additional defenses.
In this way, the Verdit army was able to reach the capital city of the Caron Empire in record time.
As if he had predicted this the moment the first fortress fell, Raziel carried out a capital relocation.
The capital of the Caron Empire was no longer here.
This meant that the castle where the two of them were was no longer the imperial palace, and the throne Raziel was sitting on could no longer be called the imperial throne.
Anton, who had to hurriedly conduct the capital relocation during the war and had a dark complexion because of it, looked at Raziel with an anxious face.
“Let’s depart quickly.”
Although the walls of the old capital and the garrison were actively defending, it was clear they would soon fall. Anton, who desperately wanted to escort Raziel to the relocated imperial palace before that happened, couldn’t help but feel urgent.
And also anxious.
He had ordered everyone to leave the imperial palace without leaving a single person behind, yet the most important emperor showed no intention of rising from his seat.
Amid the frustration and anxiety of not knowing the supreme emperor’s intentions, Raziel, who seemed to be deep in thought, opened his mouth.
“Go.”
It was a much briefer statement than what Anton had been waiting for.
Anton’s anxiety intensified.
“Your Majesty, you must depart right now.”
“I am not going.”
Anton, instantly turning pale, took a couple of steps toward the imperial throne.
“What do you mean? You must go now…!”
“I.”
Raziel, skipping a breath, spoke with a resolute voice.
“Cannot leave this place.”
“Your Majesty!”
Anton finally raised his voice.
To raise one’s voice to the emperor—it was something the loyal Anton Reifley would never imagine doing in normal circumstances. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but shout because he was so anxious.
It felt as if his emperor might disappear just like this.
Whether or not he understood Anton’s feelings, a loud cheer was heard from somewhere far away. Raziel’s gaze, recognizing the nature of that cheer, turned toward the unusually bright window.
“It won’t be long now.”
Anton couldn’t quite catch Raziel’s small murmur, which sounded like a sigh.
