The Insane Regressor: Throne of Pride

The carriage reached its destination.

Ravian stepped down beside Karius and found himself looking up at a towering gate.

It was ancient and solemn — heavy wooden doors reinforced with dark metal, nearly fifteen meters wide, an absurd width for a gate. It was the only entrance into the eastern border district of the City of Light.

At the same time, it marked the eastern border of the Viera Empire itself.

Ravian raised his head and studied the wall behind it. By his estimate, it stood somewhere between eight and ten meters tall, and from where he stood, he couldn’t see where it ended in either direction.

”This is the Wall of Light,” Karius said beside him, his gaze lifted with unmistakable pride.

”Over a thousand years old. The city was named after it. This wall is the Empire’s first and only shield on the eastern side — the graveyard of every invader and beast that has ever tried to cross it — and it falls under the jurisdiction of the Dmitri Marquisate.”

Ravian tracked the line of watchtowers stretching along the top of the wall. Each one rose nearly fifteen meters above the stone.

’It really is something. I don’t remember a single wall on Earth that came close to this.’

”A masterpiece,” he said.

”Indeed it is.” Karius nodded with a quiet smile, then started forward with George and Ravian beside him.

They hadn’t even reached the gate when—

Creeeak.

Creeeak.

The grand doors swung open, their sheer weight making the sound rumble outward through the surroundings.

Beyond them stretched a camp.

No — overwhelmingly massive didn’t begin to describe it.

As Ravian walked further in, training shouts reached him from somewhere in the distance, followed by the rhythmic clang of swords meeting one another on the other side of the sea of tents. White tents covered the ground in every direction. Watchtowers rose between them, archers stationed at the top of each. Soldiers trained in the open spaces — some in groups, others alone. Patrols moved between the tents in organized patterns while other units maintained a wider perimeter around the resting men.

”Welcome back, Company Commander.”

The gate guards greeted Karius with deep, practiced respect.

Karius entered with Ravian beside him, and almost every eye in the vicinity turned in their direction. No one dared ask who Ravian was or where he had come from — after all, he had arrived walking beside Karius Dmitri, Company Commander of the City of Light, one of the Empire’s Guardians, a living legend of this city. All they could do was look.

Some looked skeptical. Some looked jealous. Others made no effort to hide the disdain they felt toward his clothes and appearance.

Ravian didn’t pay any of them much attention.

”Company Commander.”

A young man who appeared to be in his late twenties approached and greeted Karius with a respectful nod.

”Malrik — good timing.” Karius gestured toward Ravian. ”This is Ravian Veyr. My new disciple. He’ll be under your command in the Death Squad.”

Ravian’s eyes widened.

”The Death Squad?” Malrik paused for a brief, visible moment before his gaze settled on Ravian — along with an expression of unmistakable pity.

”...Very well, Sir Karius. As you command.”

’What? Why is he looking at me like that?’

Ravian glanced between Malrik and Karius.

’This old man really did throw me straight into the fire.’

A flicker of irritation crossed his eyes.

Karius looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

”Take him and introduce him to your squad members.” His expression shifted suddenly — the amusement gone, replaced by something considerably sharper.

”And don’t go easy on him. But under no circumstances are you to let him die. Is that clear? Handle him properly, and he’ll become your strongest card.”

The look Karius gave Malrik left no room for discussion.

”Understood, sir. Leave the rest to me.”

”Good.” Karius turned away with George in step beside him.

”See you later, my dear disciple.”

With that, he walked toward the palace-like building in the distance, where heavily armed soldiers stood guard around its perimeter.

Ravian watched his broad back as he went.

For reasons he couldn’t entirely explain, it reminded him of the heroic knights he used to see in films when he was a child back on Earth.

’Rotten old man.’ He scratched the back of his head.

’But reliable. That’s all I can say about him right now.’

He turned back to Malrik.

Malrik was already looking at him.

He was slightly tall — around six feet — and wore light metal armor that covered only vital points: chest, knees, and shoulders. Two daggers were fastened neatly at his waist. Short blond hair, green eyes, and a face that carried a somewhat noble quality to it.

Malrik’s impression of Ravian was considerably different.

He saw a boy with a face that looked as though it had been worn down by one hardship after another — pale white hair making him seem even colder than his expression already suggested. His build was fairly average, and he stood around five foot ten. From the way he carried himself, it was obvious he had never trained a day in his life.

And yet, his red eyes burned.

Hope and cunning, living together in the same gaze, as if he had never once accepted the idea of giving up.

Malrik had the sense he had seen a look like that before. It was the look of someone who had suffered enough that even unfair odds could start to seem like an improvement.

”Your name is Ravian, right?”

Malrik extended his hand.

”I’m Malrik. I hope you’ll find yourself comfortable with us. And don’t worry — as Sir Karius ordered, I won’t let you die.” He smiled.

”You can call me Big Brother Malrik.”

Ravian shook his hand.

”Thank you, Malrik. But I’d rather just say Brother Malrik. Age is only a number.”

Malrik felt a small sting of rejection from his new junior, but he didn’t let it affect things.

”Fair enough. Shall we go then, Ravian? I’ll introduce you to the rest of the Death Squad.” He started walking.

”And don’t worry about the name. We earned it because of the death we bring on the battlefield. Nothing more than that.”

”Good to know,” Ravian said, nodding as he fell into step beside him.

They moved through the camp, threading between the sea of tents and heading broadly in the direction of the massive palace-like building at the center — though they didn’t approach it directly. Along the way, Ravian noticed bards performing in the open spaces between the tents — singing songs about the Empire, the City of Light, and apparently about Karius himself, from the few lines that reached his ears.

He watched them in silence.

’This might seem straightforward to me because I just got here. But these people left their homes — their families — to come to a place like this. To defend something they believe in, or maybe just to keep morale from collapsing entirely.’

His gaze moved across the soldiers, the archers, and the small number of people in pointed hats that he guessed were mages — gathered in groups, drinking, listening to the songs and ballads being performed around them.

’Anything they think might make even the smallest difference.’

”It might seem a little frightening at first,” Malrik said, clearly assuming from Ravian’s quietness that the atmosphere was getting to him.

”But you get used to it.”

”Heh.”

Ravian laughed softly.

”What’s funny?” Malrik asked, genuinely surprised by the shift.

A moment ago, the boy had seemed tense. Now he seemed almost amused.

”Nothing. I just felt like laughing.”

Ravian lowered his head as he walked.

’Afraid? Maybe, but...’

’I won’t live two lives without leaving something behind.’

’I failed to leave one in the last. So I’ll carve it into this one.’

For one unguarded moment, raw obsession broke the surface — in his expression, his eyes, even in the rhythm of his steps.

’At any cost.’

Malrik suddenly felt a shiver move through him.

”Huh? What was—” He stopped. He didn’t know what had caused it — only that for a fraction of a second, it had felt like standing beside something that did not belong in the category of person.

Even though the only one beside him was a weak boy who had joined them today.

And in a sense, Malrik wasn’t wrong.

What he had sensed wasn’t Ravian’s strength.

It was his obsession — briefly taking shape in his expression, his eyes, and the rhythm of his steps.

The deeper they walked into the camp, the quieter things became. The songs and laughter faded behind them, replaced by the more subdued atmosphere of soldiers preparing for tomorrow’s training and patrols.

Ahead, another cluster of tents came into view.