Chapter 612: The Lion Left the Forest

The banquet at Granston Castle's town hall began punctually at dusk, as guests shared the bountiful game brought back by the Duke and the Prince, raising their cups in tribute to their duchy.

During the banquet, a minor incident occurred: a musician stepped forward and raised his glass of champagne.

"Ladies and gentlemen."

He spoke in a gentle, restrained tone, "I wish to dedicate a piano piece to our Campbell Duchy. If you do not mind, grant me some inspiration."

After a brief silence, someone chuckled and recalled the white deer horn call from the morning hunt; an elderly noblewoman softly hummed the first two measures of the royal anthem.

Edward, who had been conversing with Colin, fell silent, and both men turned their curious gazes toward the musician.

"Who is he?" Luo Yan asked casually.

Edward seemed to know him and smiled.

"Leon Valirich. His father is a knight from the Dusk Province, bearing a surname but no hereditary land. His mother hails from a city that never sleeps."

This was clearly not entirely an impromptu performance, yet the man's inspiration likely hadn't matured long.

Perhaps it was only last night—or the night before.

Luo Yan pondered briefly, to avoid making the question seem too trivial.

"Lei Ming City?"

Edward smiled faintly.

"Nothing escapes you."

Having heard the crowd's suggestions, the musician nodded as if merely jotting them down, then set his champagne aside.

He sat on the piano bench, adjusted his cuffs, and as his fingers touched the keys, the melody emerged without hesitation.

The bass line came first—short, restrained. His playing resembled distant horn calls, vanishing into steamy mist, then returning along forest paths.

The prelude was unassuming, yet it silenced all conversation, drawing everyone into its intricate, winding melody.

Then, the treble entered softly, deconstructing and elongating those two measures of the royal anthem… transforming them into something both familiar and strange.

People saw a train approaching, then, after crossing mountains, transforming into a marching column of soldiers.

After a stirring military march, windmills became chimneys, flocks of sheep turned into looms, and city walls were torn down to reveal streets paved with red bricks.

The young eagle perched at the edge of the dance floor could not hide his astonishment—this game was so lifelike, even such simple transitions were crafted with care.

Qi Qi, standing nearby, was equally amazed: she had not expected such refined artistic expression in this savage human world.

It seemed the demon academy's bookshelves were not entirely accurate; she could hardly imagine these people actually pulling out her intestines and forcing her to eat them back…

She was a commoner of the Demon Capital; they were merely commoners of another city.

The piano piece ended with restraint and solemnity, like a train arriving at the station, releasing the steam of its journey to begin the next.

When the final chord faded, the hall fell silent.

Only when the musician rose to bow did thunderous applause erupt, sweeping through the banquet hall like a downpour.

The young eagle listened, utterly entranced.

She realized she hadn't heard a complete piece of music in a long time—yet here, in this "Disaster Online," she was feasting so well.

What a pleasant surprise.

As the applause subsided, Mr. Leon Valirich's gaze settled on the main seat, and in his gentle, restrained voice, he continued:

"Your Majesty, if this piece pleases you, I humbly ask you to name it."

All eyes turned to Edward, filled with curiosity—especially the nobles of Granston Castle, who eagerly awaited to hear what name the "infamous" white-haired Duke would devise.

Edward paused briefly, then smiled and said:

"Let us call it… Forward, 'The March of Progress!' May our duchy be like our train, and may our republic march forward forever!"

A brief shock crossed every face, especially among the Granston nobles and landowners, their expressions disbelief.

Typically, nobles of the Aust Continent would unhesitatingly name classic compositions after their own surnames—or to commemorate personal valor and legendary deeds.

To dedicate a musician's composition to the duchy… this was unprecedented.

Thunderous applause erupted again, accompanied by enthusiastic shouts—especially from the commoners invited to a noble banquet for the first time.

For instance, Horace.

These fellows had no refinement; they didn't know that clapping was enough—they brought the rowdy tavern habits of Lei Ming City into the royal feast.

"Long live the Campbell Duchy!"

"May our republic endure forever!"

Watching the excited crowd, Edward did not rebuke their rudeness; instead, he returned their enthusiasm with an elegant noble bow.

Luo Yan recalled how Edward had looked when they first met—this young Duke had been quite "rebellious."

Yu You, floating beside Luo Yan, sighed softly.

"Time flies…"

"Yes."

Luo Yan nodded slightly; this time, he did not tell Yu You to be quiet, and for a moment, he too immersed himself in the dream of ordinary mortals.

…

At the edge of Dusk Forest, twilight slowly sank below the horizon.

The Lionheart Knights' sentry watched the fading dusk in silence; behind him lay a camp even heavier than his expression.

Dozens of large cooking pots sat over fires, wood crackling beneath them, simmering bland barley gruel—the only living breath in this lifeless camp.

The cook swung his long spoon mechanically; the bottom clanged against the iron pot with a dull thud.

"This is dinner?" The young soldier stared at his wooden bowl, muttered a curse, then swallowed his anger.

The oatmeal inside was so thin it was grotesque; when stirred, it reflected a face with sunken eyes.

An old soldier sat on a horse stool, lifting his bowl to eye level, tugging at his lips.

"Even if you fed this to horses, you'd need to add a handful of beans."

"Be grateful."

Another old soldier didn't look up, merely sipped his hot gruel, offering a flat reassurance to his companion.

"Think positively—at least we're moving west."

Every step brought them closer to home.

Though letters from the front suggested Lan City wasn't faring much better, it was still better than this.

Imagining home-cooked dishes, the soldiers found their food less unpalatable; the scent of bread and stew seemed almost within reach.

If only they could have a cup of pine-nut wine, it would be paradise—even if the King offered his throne in exchange, they'd refuse.

"... When we get back to Lan City, I'm going to get drunk at 'Old Oak' and sleep beside the wine barrel for three days and nights!"

"Hah! Will you even find your way home?"

"Ha! When I smell my wife's roast goose sizzling, I'll find my way blindfolded!"

Home.

That warm word, like a spark falling into dry straw, suddenly stirred the stagnant air.

Soldiers shifted closer to the fire, their hollow eyes gaining a glimmer—as if the roast goose were turning above the flames.

Yet that faint light was too feeble against the deepening evening wind, insufficient to make everyone forget their suffering.

Someone tossed a stone into the fire; sparks burst, rose, then swiftly vanished in the cold wind.

"I don't understand."

It was the young soldier who had complained about dinner. He set his bowl on his knee, voice low but laced with biting hatred.

"We've protected them this whole way! Without us holding them off, the Tribunal's mad dogs would've dragged these country bumpkins to the stake as heretics! Yet how do they see us?"

He remembered the villagers they passed—every eye peering through window cracks held no gratitude, only the gaze of monsters.

Especially the children—these mud-eating brats confused them with the Tribunal!

They should've been slaughtered when they had the chance!

"Clearly, the Campbells deceived them."

The old soldier beside him picked up the thread, his flat tone like the barley gruel in the bowl—just enough to fill the hollow in conscience.

"Those cunning 'swamp-dwellers' spread lies… wait and see. When we leave and the real monsters come, they'll beg us to return."

Others nodded, swallowing their unresolvable guilt like bitter gruel.

But the Aust Empire watched them; they could not disregard ancient law to draw swords against those "lizard-bloods" in the swamps.

Otherwise, their iron hooves would crush the decaying land built upon labyrinths—they had no doubt their Radiant Knights possessed such power!

After all, even the most legendary Radiant Light couldn't stand against a demigod…

In the center of the camp, Hagemer Devalu sat in his tent, staring at the sword in his hands.

The blade remained gleaming, yet the twilight it reflected failed to illuminate the shadows hidden beneath his eyes.

Once, when he swung his sword, his mind was clear, certain he carried divine will. Now, every swing brought before him faces filled with hatred.

Though this doubt about his mission hadn't caused him to lose his attained realm, the accumulating confusion left him feeling weaker than ever.

His sword felt heavier.

The loss of power stirred a faint chill in Hagemer's heart—he could not help but wonder if he could still defeat a demigod-level hell demon.

And in that very moment, a more blasphemous thought flashed through his mind—

Has Saint Xis abandoned the Kingdom of Lein?!

"No…"

Hagemer snapped his eyes shut, drew a deep breath, and forcibly crushed the absurd notion gnawing at his soul.

It must be an illusion!

It must be because we're too far from Lan City, and the churches of Dusk City no longer hear the divine gospel—and I haven't prayed in too long!

Once he returns to Luo Lan City, stands before the statue in the Holy Luo Lan Cathedral, and pours out his troubles to the Bishop...

Everything will surely improve!