Battle Aura System

On the second day after the insect swarm, before dawn had fully broken, a layer of foul, bloody stench hung over the camp and refused to disperse.

Bishop Castian had ordered the entire army to rest in place for a day. Officially, it was to tally losses and repair armor.

But out here in the wilderness, anyone with half a brain knew the swarm that had erupted inside the Great Wall last night could not have formed naturally.

The air between the camps was taut as a drawn bowstring. No one dared say it outright, but everyone was quietly probing for answers.

Had it been a freak occurrence, or had someone pulled strings in the dark?

The losses were too heavy to dismiss. Aside from Sheen's camp, the other four newly appointed lords' camps had been reduced to mud-churned wrecks.

Broken supply wagons lay half-sunk in the mud. The wounded moaned without end, and the army physicians were run ragged. Even the roughest linen bandages had nearly run out.

A full quarter of their people had vanished overnight.

Roland Augustine's camp had fared worst. Apart from the Holy City Army, no one had taken a harder hit.

Half an hour ago, searchers had found half a cloak in a marsh half a li away and lifted it out on a spear.

Insect acid had eaten it to shreds. Its color was gone, and only a faint family crest remained to identify its owner.

Roland himself was missing.

They had not even touched the bricks of the Eternal Night Wall, and already they had lost a newly appointed lord.

This was no mere accident. The swarm had retreated, but another storm was only beginning to bare its fangs.

The other camps were still hauling corpses, their air thick with char and rot. From Sheen's camp, however, drifted the rich aroma of sizzling fat.

At first, the soldiers huddled behind the wagon barricade thought some knight was secretly cooking for himself.

Then the quartermaster led his men into the open and set out iron field cauldrons. Only then did everyone realize it was their lord's order.

Sheen stepped onto a fallen section of wooden palisade in the middle of the wagon barricade. He swept his gaze around, made sure every bloodshot eye could see him, and spoke.

"Last night was our first battle." The young man's voice was cool rather than loud, yet it clearly rose above the surrounding whispers.

"We held the line. There was no stampede. No one shoved a comrade forward to take a blade. Most importantly, our fire did not go out."

Sheen's gaze settled on several young soldiers in the front row.

"I know some of you held your spears with shaking hands last night. There's no shame in that. If you held your ground, you did well. We won an unprecedented victory yesterday because you held the line.

"So today, I've decided to give everyone an extra meal. Keep up the good work."

He gave a casual wave. "Eat."

The camp erupted.

Dried salt pork was hacked into thick chunks with military knives. Coarse white bread was broken apart, and jugs of ale passed from hand to hand.

By custom, the knights were served first, then the infantry. Even the Convicts who had handled logistics last night received double their usual rations. Not a single person was left out.

A stubbled veteran with a halberd took a piece of meat dripping with grease and swallowed hard.

He suddenly straightened and roared in a hoarse voice, "Long live our lord!"

Soon someone beside him raised a fistful of bread and joined in. "Long live our lord!"

The cries began in scattered pockets, then swelled into a deafening chorus.

It was more than flattery. It was the instinctive response of people who had survived.

They had come through last night in one piece. Out here in the wilderness, nothing gave them firmer ground to stand on.

Other camps were digging graves. Sheen's men could sit around the fire and eat meat.

That stark, bloody contrast was more persuasive than any doctrine.

Deep in Sheen's vision, colors churned violently. Pale green darkened at speed, and patches of deep blue even appeared.

+6, +13, +21...

Numbers kept flickering like sparks until they blurred together.

Sheen knew a meal of stewed meat and the relief of survival alone could not account for the surge in Grace Value.

What had truly moved them ran deeper.

Last night, knights and Convicts had held the same line. This morning, nobles and Convicts shared the same reward.

Those were rules. They were also a sliver of certainty Sheen had forced into this broken world.

Sheen stood where he was and listened calmly to the cheers for a while.

He said no more. He had made his point; another word would only weaken it.

"Rest after you eat. Sharpen your weapons and prepare to break camp tomorrow."

With that, Sheen stepped down from the palisade and left the clamor behind.

He walked around several supply wagons and stopped in the open space before his tent.

Fabien stood beside the Holy Fire Altar with his eyes closed, hands clasped as he murmured a prayer.

Firelight caught the Church Knight's sharply defined profile. It softened the grim air he always carried, leaving him looking almost devout.

At the crunch of boots on gravel, Fabien opened his eyes.

"My lord?" He turned, his tone noticeably more respectful than it had been a few days ago.

Sheen smiled gently. "Sir Fabien, there's something I'd like to ask you."

The heavy canvas flap fell shut, cutting off the lingering charred stench outside.

Sheen went to the makeshift campaign table and came straight to the point. "Fabien, those knights who crossed the line of fire to finish clearing the field last night... how strong are they by Church standards?"

Fabien stopped three paces from the table, his back straightening on instinct.

"They're Bishop Castian's personal guard." Open awe flashed in the Church Knight's eyes. "The elite of his inner circle. Most have spent years consolidating their strength in the Third Tier Resonance Realm.

"The dozen or so who led them already have one foot in the Fourth Tier Blazing Sun Realm. As for the men on the perimeter who fell into disarray when the swarm hit..."

Fabien paused, the faintest trace of mockery tugging at his mouth. "They're just recruits in the Second Tier Bodyguard Realm. They haven't even seen what the Long Night is truly like."

Sheen lifted his cup and took a sip, recalling the main tiers of power in this world.

On this wasteland beneath the Blood Moon, Battle Aura was humanity's chief weapon against the darkness.

The First Tier Rhythm Realm was only the first step into the extraordinary.

Muscle and bone were forcibly awakened, the five senses sharpened, and the body began to surpass mortal limits.

At the Second Tier Bodyguard Realm, Battle Aura began to seep beyond the skin and form a thin film.

That film could deflect stray arrows. When the Blood Moon hung high, it could also slow the corruption that seeped into the marrow.

Only upon entering the Third Tier Resonance Realm did one truly qualify to take the offensive in the eternal night.

Battle Aura could flow into a Holy Silver-forged blade and unleash enough force to tear through heavy armor. A knight at that level could face a High-Tier Demonic Beast alone in the wilderness.

At the Fourth Tier Blazing Sun Realm, Battle Aura underwent a complete transformation.

Every movement could unleash devastating force across a wide area. One person could hold a stretch of trench as firmly as an iron spike driven into the ground.

As for the legendary Fifth Tier Long Night Champions...

Once they unfolded their domains, they could even suppress the Blood Moon's warped laws. Their presence alone was enough to steady the hearts of everyone in the region.

Of course, those rigid tiers were never absolute.

The depth of one's Battle Aura, battlefield instinct, and other factors decided who lived and died when fighters of the same tier clashed.

Some special fighters stood beyond that system altogether.

Fabien, for example, was a Holy Flame Knight of the Church. Years spent bathed in the Source Furnace's blessing put his strength half a tier above that of an ordinary secular knight.

Then there were Construct Knights, who forcibly grafted alchemical components into their bones, and Sourceblood Knights, who drank the forbidden Original Sin Blood. They fell entirely outside conventional measures of strength.

Sheen withdrew his gaze and felt the faint but warm current within him.

It was his Battle Aura, but he was only in the Bodyguard Realm, and his foundation was shaky.

To make sure his illegitimate son met the minimum requirement and could fill the vacancy of Long Night Lord, Count Greywood had forced him to drink large quantities of potions before his departure, then used a family secret art to push him into the Bodyguard Realm.

His foundation was as flimsy as paper. One jab would tear straight through it.

If he had not spent the past ten days sparring desperately with Ivan in the mud, and used the Canon of Grace and Righteousness to forcibly replicate those combat instincts, he would probably still be nothing more than a target in fine armor.

He lowered his eyes to the recopied roster on the table.

This was everything he had to work with.

His forces were pitifully thin. Most of his rank-and-file soldiers and knights hovered between the First and Second Tiers.

The real core consisted of Resonance Realm knights like Fabien and Ivan. By the most generous count, there were only seventy.

Seventy Resonance Realm knights could sweep through several baronies if they made it back to the heartland of the Kingdom of Austeria intact.

But before the meat grinder that was the Eternal Night Wall, that force would barely register.

Once the Blood Moon rose, those seventy elites would be little more than candle flames in a gale.

"That's all I have." A cold look entered Sheen's eyes. "When the Blood Moon Season comes, even I'll be nothing more than an offering wrapped a little more handsomely for the Ritual Altar."

He was considering how to use last night's victory to secure resources from the Holy City Army when the heavy tread of boots sounded outside the tent.

"My lord," a guard reported quietly from outside.

The heavy tent flap lifted at one corner. A silver-armored messenger with a sun Holy Emblem on his chest stood at the entrance, looking past the guard straight at Sheen.

The messenger bowed slightly. "Lord Sheen Greenwood, Bishop Castian summons you. Please accompany me to the main camp at once."