Turning-Chapter 857

From afar, a rumbling sound began to echo.

“Ah...!”

“Of course, the damn sky too, in this situation...”

The two Cavalry members supporting Kishiar simultaneously looked up and let out curses and sighs.

Was the rift already reacting? They’d predicted that Hosanra’s death might cause a rift to open, but now that the moment was actually upon them, it was impossible not to feel a tightening sense of dread.

Perhaps, from the moment they were inevitably forced to face the rift, the outcome had already been set, no matter what method they chose. It stung to realize there might have been a better way, and they hadn’t taken it. But what could be done now? At the time, that had seemed like the best option. So now, all that was left was to accept what had been done and prepare for what came next.

Yuder’s mind rapidly flashed through the current allied lineup and the optimal deployment. How to persuade Kishiar to stay out of direct combat. Plans to minimize civilian casualties amid the still-violent weather. All of it streamed through his head in an instant.

Even with his head throbbing like it might split open, Yuder relentlessly tried to compare everything to his past life. This situation wasn’t like anything from before. Still, if he kept thinking, surely there would be some helpful insight buried somewhere. freewēbnoveℓ.com

‘From now on, I have to assume nothing is certain. There’s no way through this without any allied casualties. Still, if we want to minimize serious injuries and make treatment easier... The impact radius around Sharloin...’

“Yuder.”

Kishiar’s sudden voice pulled him from his thoughts. Yuder responded a beat too late, slowly lifting his head. Kishiar exhaled deeply, then began to steady his breath. Even covered in blood and being supported by others, he didn’t lose the posture of a straight-backed noble—his breathing measured, his presence painfully elegant.

For the first time, Yuder realized this might be the pride Kishiar had drilled into himself, something he refused to lose no matter what situation he faced. And for a moment, the image of the man sitting alone in the dark of Peleta Castle surfaced in his mind. But this wasn’t the time to think about that. He erased it immediately.

“Just now. You said you failed to stop the final move properly... but are you sure about that?”

“...What do you mean, sir?”

His reaction came a second late, stirred by irrelevant thoughts. Kishiar’s gaze was still heavy, but it held something slightly different than before. Yuder couldn’t quite define it—but it felt like Kishiar could read every thought in his head, and instinctively, he averted his eyes.

“To start planning a response without confirming the full outcome... Isn’t that too soon?”

Of course, Kishiar knew what Yuder was fixated on. He probably felt the same. So it wasn’t all that surprising.

“What more is there to confirm here?”

“That.”

Kishiar regulated his breathing, then slowly raised a finger to point at the sky. He clearly wanted Yuder to look there. So, stopping his thoughts, Yuder followed the gesture and turned his head.

At first, it was just the same dark sky and the unending hail. But after squinting for a while, he finally spotted the rift nestled in the midst of it.

And then—

‘...What is this?’

Something was off. The last time he checked, there had been three rifts. But now, at some point, two had vanished, leaving only one. Yuder blinked repeatedly in disbelief.

‘...It was definitely three before.’

No matter how many times he looked, only one rift remained. That lone rift quivered, gaping open. The black shadows writhing within it sent a primal sense of dread crawling up his spine.

But still, there was only one. That difference alone was massive. Yuder quickly turned his head back. Kishiar, meeting his gaze, faintly raised the corner of his lips.

“...Did you see?”

Kishiar asked softly. Yuder, still dazed, nodded.

“It’d be hard to call our final move a complete success... But we also can’t say it failed. In a sense...”

Kishiar opened his hand and flipped it over, palm down, then moved his fourth finger—the one for a ring. Watching that motion, Yuder slowly spoke.

“...The move of the ring finger.”

“Exactly.”

Something important had been lost, but not everything. In fact, something even greater might have been preserved. In tactical games, this was called the ring finger move.

Long ago, there was a knight who lost his ring finger—along with the wedding ring on it—during battle. But the glint of that ring, stuck on the severed finger, briefly dazzled his enemy. Taking advantage of that moment, the knight pierced the enemy and fled, saving his life. Though the ring and the finger were gone forever and he hadn’t won, he preserved the rest of his fingers—and more importantly, his life. Years later, he became a great general who saved his country. The tactic was named after that story.

It was an apt name for the current situation.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Not every move is guaranteed to lead to victory. What seems like the best play can sometimes hand your opponent an opportunity—or expose you to unexpected danger.

But if °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° you can save something greater than a ring finger and a wedding band—then the ring finger move gains meaning, and life.

Yuder looked up at the remaining rift again. It was clearly a dangerous situation, as if monsters might spill out at any moment—but somehow, it didn’t feel as ominous as before.

Just then, familiar voices called out nearby.

“Duke.”

“Yuder!”

“Your Highness!”

Unlike the others, who were all injured, Nathan Zuckerman and Ever appeared completely unharmed. Behind them were the rest of the Cavalry, minus those who had been with Kanna, and General Gino Bodelli leading the Imperial Special Task Force, along with his adjutant.

Nathan Zuckerman reached them faster than anyone, eyes darting between Kishiar and Yuder. Yuder had assumed he’d say something about Kishiar being in such a state despite Yuder being there—but instead, Nathan simply furrowed his brow and stayed silent.

It was absurd, but it felt like he was hesitating over who to support first—Kishiar or Yuder. Sensing this, Yuder gestured slightly toward Kishiar and spoke.

“This blood isn’t mine. As you can see, I can stand on my own. Please assist the Commander first.”

“...That’s not what I was going to say but... Fine.”

Letting out a short sigh, Nathan moved toward Kishiar. The two exchanged some unreadable glances, speaking volumes without words.

“Oh, heavens... Your Highness...”

Only then did General Gino reach them, unable to finish his sentence as he gasped. He looked a mess himself, but compared to the rest, he was in decent shape.

While Gino rushed to speak with Kishiar, Yuder quietly stepped back. He’d thought he was fine standing—but as soon as he tried to move, dizziness struck and his knees almost gave out.

What caught him from falling was a hand that smelled entirely different from the blood saturating the area.

Turning his head, Yuder found himself face to face with someone he recognized instantly—someone he hadn’t expected to see here.

“......”

“Oh my... Gods...”

It was Inon. And beside him, Lusan.

Inon stood among the surrounding Cavalry like a sentinel, his face a mask of grim calm. Even Yuder—who’d been so consumed by fury just moments ago—couldn’t help but flinch at the fierce glare that swept over him.

After a pause, Inon turned his head and asked the Cavalry members,

“My eyes must be playing tricks on me... That burst tomato heap over there—isn’t a person, right?”

“...Inon.”

Yuder murmured, but Inon didn’t turn to him. He kept his glare fixed on the others, clearly demanding an answer. Calling him a burst tomato heap... The wording was so merciless it was almost laughable—if his overwhelming presence hadn’t crushed any attempt to protest.

“Well, isn’t this strange. Where’d the polished-up guy headed for a funeral go, and what the hell is this crushed tomato mess? Is this what you dragged me here to treat?”

“It’s me, Inon.”

“Hah. Fuck. Tomatoes talk now, do they?”

Even the hail pelting down seemed to lose its force under the dryness of Inon’s laugh—and it wasn’t just Yuder who felt that.