Lord of Caldera - Chapter 83

Chapter 83: Chapter 83
“….”

“….”

A heavy silence fell over the battlefield. The demon that had tormented the entire city for so long was suddenly gone. Some still stared blankly at the spot where the demon had vanished, as if they couldn’t believe what had just happened.

But while the people were still in shock, the environment around them was beginning to change.

Fsssssh.

“The… the shadows!”

The shadows that had wielded the power of ancient heroes crumbled, and the thick fog that had choked the city began to dissipate. Soon, sunlight pierced the darkened sky, illuminating a world that had been shrouded in darkness. The once terrifying scene was now bathed in the red hues of the setting sun.

“Everyone,” Sylas spoke, his voice cutting through the silence. Standing under the crimson sky, his face also glowing red from the sun, he made an announcement to all present.

“We have won.”

“Wooooaaaah!”

A moment later, the battle-worn soldiers erupted in cheers, their triumphant shouts echoing through the air.

When Sylas and his group returned to the city, it was already in full celebration. People hugged one another, grateful simply to be alive. Though Sylas and his companions were covered in dust from the short but intense battle, the people’s cheers greeted them like conquering heroes.

“Blessings to the heroes!”

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“Please, accept this humble gift!”

Surrounded by a grateful crowd, Sylas and his group found themselves in an awkward position, but they couldn’t hide the smiles on their faces. After all, they had liberated the city from the demon’s grip and saved its people. In the current era, who could claim such an honor?

Just as the crowd seemed unmanageable, Lydia appeared, offering relief.

“You’ve all returned safely!”

Tears welled in Lydia’s eyes as she gazed at the group. As is often the case, waiting for news is far more tortuous than fighting itself. But all of her fears had been in vain. Sylas’s group had returned without a single casualty, and the demon had been vanquished.

It was the best outcome she could have hoped for.

“All of this was thanks to Lord Sylas,” one of the holy knights said.

“I shudder to think what might have happened without his leadership,” another added.

“Not to mention the skill of Sir Toby and Sir Ray,” others chimed in.

The knights enthusiastically praised the heroes of the battle, drawing the attention of the townspeople. Eager to hear every detail, they listened closely as the knights recounted the battle. They spoke of the demon’s shadows that wielded the power of ancient heroes, the fierce fight, and how Sylas, leading from the front, was ambushed by the demon. Yet, at the most critical moment, he cut through the illusions with a flaming holy sword.

“…And that’s how we barely managed to claim victory. It was harrowing just thinking about it again,” the knight concluded.

“My goodness,” Lydia gasped, covering her mouth. She marveled at the combined efforts of Toby and Ray’s combat prowess, Sylas’s command, and his incredible willpower to overcome the demon’s illusions. If even one part of that had failed, they could have been wiped out multiple times. It was a perfect, heroic victory—worthy of an epic tale.

“You all did so well. You must be exhausted. Please, come inside and rest,” Lydia said.

“Thank you, but we still have much to—”

“You’ve done more than enough today. Take the time to rest,” she insisted, leading the group into the building. Once they disappeared inside, the townspeople began to murmur amongst themselves.

“That was really something.”

“I’m definitely going to tell my family about this when I get home.”

“Sir Toby and Sir Ray? How have I never heard of them before?”

Some people expressed gratitude for surviving such a harrowing ordeal, while others were excited to share the heroic tale they had just heard. More astute individuals began to take note of the two knights with the skills of legendary heroes. Among the crowd was a middle-aged bard, who quickly pulled out a charcoal pencil and began scribbling furiously on a sheet of paper.

“A demon, a saint, heroes, and a holy sword! Inspiration strikes, inspiration!”

In every age, the deeds of heroes are passed down through song, and here and now, the tale of Sylas and his companions was being immortalized in verse.

Though the demon was gone, the work was far from over. The members of the Corleone family were busier than ever, assessing the damage to the city, the number of casualties, and estimating how long the recovery would take. However, Sylas, Toby, and Max were excused from these duties—on Ulrich’s strong recommendation.

“You’ve been through enough during the hunt. Let me handle the rest of the minor tasks,” Ulrich said.

“I don’t mind helping. I’m perfectly fine,” Sylas responded.

“I heard you were struck by the demon. Who knows what might be wrong? You need to take care of yourself.”

“Seriously, I’m fine.”

“Just rest for once!” Ulrich snapped. His tone was sharp, his frustration obvious. He wasn’t worried about Sylas’s well-being. What irked him was the rising fame Sylas was earning.

‘Damn it, his reputation is getting too big,’ Ulrich thought. Until now, Sylas’s accomplishments within the family had been significant but manageable. Even though his standing had risen, he was still just an illegitimate child without a claim to the inheritance. But this latest achievement was different.

He had taken the lead in resolving a crisis of unprecedented scale—a demonic invasion.

‘Within the family, status only matters as long as you’re part of the family. But once word of this spreads across the empire…’

This would give Sylas recognition beyond the family, establishing him as a nobleman with the reputation of a hero. The fact that he was an illegitimate child wouldn’t matter anymore. To the outside world, Sylas was simply a noble, and if his fame continued to grow, he could even become an independent lord one day.

‘In the worst-case scenario, he could become a sovereign with land granted by the emperor,’ Ulrich mused grimly. If Sylas received an imperial grant of land, he would be elevated to the status of a ruler in his own right, commanding his own forces. If he then grew stronger in the chaotic times ahead? Ulrich shuddered at the thought.

“Just rest, alright? I’m only thinking of your well-being!” Ulrich slammed the door behind him as he left. Sylas blinked for a moment, then let out a chuckle.

It was almost pitiful how desperate Ulrich was, trying so hard to prevent Sylas from expanding his influence.

“The rice is already cooked. There’s no stopping it now,” Sylas mused. Ulrich was clearly trying to keep Sylas from increasing his popularity by limiting his interactions with the people. It wasn’t a bad idea, but Sylas’s reputation was already that of a hero. If he continued to be seen and recognized by the people, that sentiment would only grow stronger.