The Great Runes were his fundamental power. To this day, he maintained two Great Runes: the vow [Do not use heavy weapons], in exchange for extreme specialization in other weapon types.
The vow [Never waver in will], in exchange for outstanding aptitude.
The former suited his own talents, because he genuinely was not good at using heavy weapons.
The latter was a precaution. After all, both Radagon and Miquella had powers of charm, and there was no guarantee such powers did not exist elsewhere in the Lands Between.
If he changed of his own accord, he would release the Great Rune himself, so naturally there would be no problem.
But once he was charmed, the vow would fail.
The backlash would immediately bring him back to his senses.
Do not ask why he did not add a few more vows, because the power of the Great Runes did not come from nowhere.
It depended on the user's own capacity-which was generally related to will, strength, and various other factors.
His current "capacity" could comfortably sustain three or four powerful Great Runes, with an upper limit of around a dozen or more. But that would bring constant "pressure" and pain on the level of the soul, impairing his judgment and actions.
And beyond his own capacity, the source of the Great Runes' power depended even more on "putting them into practice."
The stricter the vow and the more thoroughly it was obeyed, the stronger the power it gave in return.
At the same time, as the core of the system, he could also indirectly gain a slow expansion of his capacity and faint resonances of power from other "disciples" obeying the Great Runes.
The Gate of Myriad Laws. This was his planned escape route, the key to other worlds.
Unfortunately, it was an "energy-devouring beast."
Since crossing over, the energy he had accumulated was still a drop in the bucket compared with the minimum needed to "open the gate."
To reach a "safe, bountiful world suitable for survival" with precision? The energy required would be even more astronomical.
Taking the entire tribe away was utterly impossible in the short term.
"Right now... I don't have enough strength to forcibly overturn my elder brother's will and take everyone away."
Horace Loux murmured to himself.
"My brother ended up taking that path after all. But... a game is a game, and reality is reality. Marika's precise intentions, the Golden Order's actual effects on my brother and the tribe, whether the so-called 'exile' really involved some deeper plan or a lack of alternatives... all of that is just my speculation."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"Maybe I shouldn't keep trying to stop him, though I am a little worried about my brother's backside..."
"But for the tribe's sake, Brother, you'll have to make a little sacrifice."
Horace Loux sighed.
He silently opened his hand. In his palm was the piece of hide Hoarah Loux had secretly slipped him.
Written plainly on it were the words: Take the old and weak away.
Horace Loux started in shock, then closed his fist as though nothing had happened.
My brother... no, I need to prepare for the tribe now.
He rose and walked over to a low table pieced together from rough planks. Spread across it was a crude map drawn in charcoal on tanned leather.
His gaze roamed over the map.
The Land of Shadow, this land shrouded in ancient forests and mist, was about to become the altar for the war between Marika and the Gloam-Eyed Queen.
He had to leave, and quickly.
Limgrave, the Storm King's domain.
The terrain there was relatively open, but the climate was harsh and storms raged. More importantly, it would become one of the front lines in the wars to come.
The Storm King himself was also a formidable obstacle. A foreign tribe would struggle to find a secure foothold there.
Liurnia, the lake region.
His fingertip settled on the area marked with a symbolic patch of ripples and a tower.
The Carian Royal Family and the Academy of Raya Lucaria ruled it jointly. True Magic and swordsmanship coexisted there, and its order was relatively complex, but that might also leave more gaps to slip through.
There were relatively plentiful water sources, a relatively mild climate, and a gathering place of knowledge-the academy.
Knowledge. True Magic.
Horace Loux's gaze grew deep.
The Great Runes were his foundation, a power beyond this world's conventional systems, but they were not omnipotent.
He needed to understand this world's rules, and he needed more ways to protect the tribespeople who would soon leave with him.
True Magic, whether combat-oriented Glintstone Sorcery, supportive incantations, or even Carian Swordsmanship and Astrology, would all be extremely valuable supplements.
As for the Cuckoo Knights... those armed forces attached to the academy, nominally loyal but potentially pursuing agendas of their own, were precisely proof that within the gaps in Liurnia's order, a form of "limited allegiance" or "paid cooperation" was a possible way to survive.
He loathed becoming nothing but expendable fodder for war. But what if he could maintain relative independence and complete certain tasks in exchange for protection, the right to cultivate land, or opportunities to exchange knowledge?
The tribe needed a new way to survive.
They could no longer be barbarians who relied solely on hunting and plunder. They needed to become a group capable of establishing itself on the fringes of a more complex civilization.
The Great Rune system might become one of the central elements of that unique value.
Of course, he had to be cautious and selective about revealing it.
"The key is..."
Whether forced or of his own accord, his elder brother Hoarah Loux would definitely take the most elite warriors with him.
That could not be changed, nor did it even need to be forcibly changed.
Then who would choose to stay, or who would be left behind?
The elderly, children, frail women, warriors who had not recovered from their wounds or illnesses, and... those who harbored doubts about "gold," or simply valued a stable life more.
These people were the tribe's foundation, and the sparks of its future.
They might not be able to charge into battle on the front lines, but they were craftsmen, gatherers, singers who recounted history, and mothers who raised the next generation.
He would leave with them, along with some warriors willing to follow him.
That was probably what his brother meant.
Horace Loux's fingers tapped unconsciously against the tabletop.
The plan gradually grew clearer, but the difficulties remained mountainous.
First, the migration route.
Liurnia was a long way away, and reaching it would require crossing areas controlled by unknown or hostile forces.
He had to plan a relatively safe route and assemble enough guards.
The window had to fall before the war between Marika and the Gloam-Eyed Queen erupted in full. They had to leave amid the chaos, but not so late that they were swept into it or drew the attention of other powers.
Second, their foothold in Liurnia could not be directly beside the academy or the royal castle. That would be too conspicuous, making them easy targets for control or conscription.
They needed somewhere on the edge of the lake region, near forests or hills, with a water source and land suitable for farming, fishing, or hunting, yet relatively secluded.
At first, they might need to settle in quietly as a "fringe tribe fleeing disaster," gradually learning the distribution of local powers and their rules.
Third, after losing a large number of their young, able-bodied fighters, they would need to reorganize the remaining people's division of labor, defenses, and production.
He could begin applying the Great Rune system. For warriors willing to stay, he could try guiding them to swear vows to protect the tribe in exchange for greater focus or endurance.
This would both strengthen their cohesion and begin slowly expanding his own capacity as the "core."
Fourth, their strategy for approaching the Carian forces. They could not appear so weak that they invited exploitation, nor so aggressive that they brought annihilation upon themselves.
Their need to learn True Magic could serve as a long-term goal.
Horace Loux drew a deep breath. The scent of charcoal mingled with leather and rainwater as it filled his lungs.
The road ahead was long and fraught with danger. But this might be the only viable choice at present.
He walked to the side of the tent and lifted the flap a crack.
The rain outside had eased somewhat, but the night remained thick as ink. Only a scattering of torches moved among the distant tents-the warriors on patrol.
Tomorrow, he would begin privately approaching those who might be willing to leave with him.
The elders, those who spoke for the women and children, warriors who trusted him... he had to be careful not to openly arouse his brother's suspicion, or at least not too obviously.
There is very little text about Hoarah Loux's origins. What can be confirmed is that he was a barbarian from outside the Lands Between.
["The name Godfrey was bestowed by the Golden Dynasty. His original name was Hoarah Loux, king of the badlands.]
The Hero class description: A descendant of the king of the badlands.
Hero's shoulder armor: ["Shoulder armor worn only by heroes in the badlands. Proof of countless enemies slain. The heroes' clothing has no unnecessary ornamentation, much like the style of their king, Hoarah Loux."]
The equipment of the Black Blade's followers: ["Clothing worn by the descendants of the warriors who came to the Lands Between with Godfrey in the earliest age of gold. They are now followers of Maliketh, the 'Black Blade.'"]
This directly states that Godfrey came with his tribespeople.
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