Ascension from Dual Professions

Chapter 260: Chapter 247: The Footsteps of War

A biting north wind swept across the snow-covered fields of Heta County, the air thick with the acrid smell of rust, sweat, and smoldering forges.

Covered wagons laden with supplies carved deep ruts into the muddy, frozen earth, their drivers’ shouts short and anxious. Soldiers bustled between the temporary camps, unloading damaged Armor, and the sound of them sharpening their weapons merged into an ear-piercing din.

Aaron stood beside a covered wagon filled with Crystal Energy Cores, watching the scene. He subconsciously raised a hand to touch the cold metal plate on his chest.

"So... this is war..."

Compared to the desperate day he had once experienced, this atmosphere was far more complex. It carried a thrum that made his heart pound in his chest.

Just then, a familiar voice called out from nearby.

"Hey, Aaron, kid! What’s on your mind?"

A tall, sturdy, middle-aged man walked over, completely encased in heavy Steel Armor and flanked by a [Guardian] unit. He clapped Aaron on the shoulder with a loud CLANG.

"You didn’t have this look on your face yesterday when Lady Rosalind was picking people. Now that it’s time to actually hit the battlefield, don’t go dropping the ball on us."

Aaron snapped back to his senses and took a deep breath.

"Uncle Raymond, I’m not nervous... I’m just... not used to it."

He looked up at his surroundings.

This was the Giant God Workshop’s camp, and it stood in stark contrast to the encampments of the other nobles’ private armies. Every soldier was encased in streamlined, silver-gray alloy Armor. The sophisticated servo-mechanisms at their joints rose and fell with an almost imperceptible, breath-like rhythm, emitting a low, cycling "WHIR... HISS..."

Aaron himself was one of them, as was Raymond, who stood before him.

But that wasn’t even the most striking feature.

What truly made outsiders gawk was the army of Mechanical Bodies standing among them. The [Gun Cavalry] were arrayed in strict formation, their lances aimed at the overcast sky. The [Walkers] lay quietly dormant like spiders, laden with various tools and weapons. And the [Guardians] stayed close to each person, serving as both protector and assistant.

Furthermore, several never-before-seen quadrupedal heavy units lurked in the center of the formation like iron behemoths. Dangerous patterns of Energy flowed across the thick cannon barrels on their backs, creating an intimidating sight.

Aaron took it all in. After struggling to find the words, he could only force out a single sentence.

"This is a little different than I imagined."

"Ha!"

Raymond let out a loud laugh. He patted the [Guardian] beside him and remarked with a sigh,

"It’s normal for a young man like you to feel that way. Heck, even I, just a simple blacksmith, never thought I’d see the day I’d be on a battlefield."

"But as Lord Jon says, if we want to earn more money and let our families live better lives, we have to go through this."

His voice grew a little somber as he said this.

"Besides, I never want to go through the pain of losing my home again..."

Aaron froze. He suddenly remembered that this cheerful older man was actually a refugee who had lost his home to the war.

’Compared to the hardships he faced protecting his family on the way to Birch Town, my own despair seems so insignificant.’

So he couldn’t help but apologize in a low voice.

"I’m sorry... Uncle Raymond... I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories."

"It’s nothing."

Raymond had only been sighing to himself. Seeing Aaron’s sheepish expression, he gave him another friendly punch on the shoulder and said earnestly,

"You have to remember, it was Lord Jon who gave us all of this. He gave us knowledge and Power, enabling us to protect our own families."

"We have to be worthy of his grace. We can’t let him down!"

"Yes!"

Aaron’s spirits lifted at his words.

’Didn’t I join the Giant God Workshop to repay Lord Jon’s grace?’

’If Lord Jon hadn’t sent out his Mechanical Bodies to drive away the refugees that day, who knows what horrible fate would have befallen me and my sister!’

At this thought, the young apprentice couldn’t help but look toward the center of the camp, as if he could already see that great and noble figure.

"For Lord Jon—!"

...

To ensure the Workshop could continue to operate normally, Jon had only brought twenty men with him; he was primarily relying on his Mechanical Bodies for combat.

As a result, the command tent wasn’t very spacious, with room for only five or six people at most.

Jon was currently staring, expressionless, at the black-haired girl trembling before him like a cornered animal. His entire posture screamed "intimidation."

"Esra, you must overcome your cowardice and complete the assignment Mr. Claudio gave you."

"Mr. Jon... I... I... c-can I not go...?"

Esra’s slender fingers twisted the hem of her Mage Robe. Her eyes, hidden behind black-lensed glasses, were welling up with tears, her voice barely a whisper.

"I... I really can’t... k-kill anyone..."

Jon’s expression didn’t waver in the slightest at his junior’s timidity.

He simply turned to the purple-haired girl in the corner of the tent, who was idly tossing a dagger.

"Dolores, I’m entrusting Esra’s safety to you. Also—"

He added, his tone deliberate,

"You will supervise her and ensure she gets at least three kills with her own hands. Even for a research-oriented Professional, a trial by fire and blood is a path that must be walked."

"Ha! Mission accepted!"

At Jon’s command, Dolores leaped to her feet in a single, fluid motion. Her amber eyes curved into mischievous crescents.

She bounded over to Esra’s side in a few quick steps, expertly slinging an arm around the other girl’s thin shoulders and nearly pulling the poor little Mage off her feet.

"Relax, relax, little Esra! Stick with me, and I promise not a single hair on your head will be harmed!"

She said, grinning as she patted the other girl’s back.

"It’s just popping a few clueless rebels. It’s like playing whack-a-mole. SPLAT! Super easy!"

As she spoke, she made an exaggerated stabbing motion with her other hand.

However, the Ranger Maiden’s lighthearted tone gave Esra no comfort. She uselessly pushed at the crooked glasses on her nose and looked toward Jon, her lips trembling as she tried to plead her case again.

But before she could form the words, a sharp voice called out from outside the tent.

"Mr. Jon! Viscount Paris has called a council of war! You are summoned to the main tent at once!"

"Understood."

Jon acknowledged, then rose and grabbed his Crystal Armor Helmet from the low table. He cast a final glance at Esra, who had all but shrunk into Dolores’s embrace.

"Esra, the winter will not grow any less harsh because of your cowardice, nor will the war pause its advance."

He threw open the heavy tent flap. A bone-chilling wind surged in, carrying with it flakes of snow and the ear-piercing shriek of metal on metal from the distance. The gale instantly swallowed his figure, leaving only the heavy echo of his last words to reverberate in the gunpowder-laced air.

"If you want to survive in these chaotic times, you must find the courage to protect yourself."