Chapter 247: 247. SCARS OF WAR

Just as the sun broke out, Sagiri gave the okay, and Sagiri got ready to spearhead the squads into their possible death. They crossed into the old warlands without breaking formation. The shift felt almost immediate when they set foot into the Tatani lands. Sagiri led from the front, his pace steady, the squad moving behind him in clean intervals. No one dared to speak.

The path they had created the previous night was already gone. Sagiri was sure his previous night team noticed it, and there were intakes of sharp breaths.

“The path we took last night seems to have changed,” Sagiri said. Those behind him grew even more tense. No one answered him. Perhaps they had taken a different path, and the illusion made it look straight. Once Sagiri, Oka, and Lira felt anything odd, the team could then cover their eyes and depend on their other senses to move.

The ground bore the memory of war. Long scars cut through the earth where trenches had once been carved, now softened by time, edges rounded, half-swallowed by grass. Patches of dark soil lay scattered between stretches of green, places where nothing had fully returned. They walked past the remains of old fortifications. low mad walls collapsed into uneven stone, their purpose long gone. Rusted fragments of metal lay half-buried, dulled by years, no longer weapons, just remnants. The air around carried no tension.

Trees had grown where lines had once been drawn. Thin at first, then thicker deeper in, their roots breaking through hardened ground, forcing life back into places that had rejected it for years. Some leaned at odd angles, causing the terrain to look more devastating.

Sagiri’s eyes moved across everything as he walked. Reading the land. He needed to believe that what he was seeing and whatever the archive was recording this time was true and not an illusion, yet. The formation held tight behind him. They moved like they were still on a battlefield, even though the war had left this place long ago.

A broken structure stood ahead, barely standing, its frame split and hollow. Vines had claimed it, pulling it inward, it could have been a house or houses, but now it just lay in ruin. The sight so far was just sad, and it was hard for sagiri not to remember his clan. Yoka had warned against having strong feelings in this place, but it just hit close to home and could not be helped. Sagiri adjusted his pace slightly, guiding the formation forward without looking back. He could bear to see the scars of war again and again, yet more lay waiting. The place was just a child of war in itself. The war had ended here, but it had not disappeared. It had sunk into the ground, into the air, into the shape of everything around them.

The squads moved in unison, and no one had deterred just yet. Even Oka was still silent, resting on Gavina’s neck. Pavire had let his bird fly above, waiting for her call if she were to fall into distress. The bird was selfish and only loyal to her. Well, weren’t all beasts the same? If it came for him, then they would all be saved anyway. The squads had relaxed a bit.

Soon, the grass thinned. The ground hardened in patches, then softened again. The trees grew closer, their trunks uneven, roots pushing up through the soil like old fractures that had never healed. N’varu shifted slightly behind him, then stilled again. They were so silent that sagiri had to check several times to see if they were there. They moved like that for a long stretch. Then the trees broke suddenly, and a clearing came into view. Sagiri stopped at the edge. The ground ahead opened wide into a clearing too large to be natural and too ordered to be random.

Rows!

Endless rows stretched ahead. Markers stood across the field, uneven in height, shape, and age. Some were carved from stone, worn down until the markings were almost gone. Others were nothing more than rough slabs driven into the ground. Many leaned over, and some had fallen. A few were split clean through.

A graveyard?

A graveyard

A massive old graveyard sat right in front of them. It stretched farther than the eye could see, fading into the distance. There was no clear boundary. Just a field of the dead lay. Had Tagayia and Safaya caused all this? Sagiri felt even more resentment and anger. Right now, he was feeling all the emotions Yoka had spoken against. Sagiri stepped forward into it. The ground changed underfoot. It grew softer under, but everything inside of him hardened.

The squads had come to stand beside him. There were mixed feelings in the air as they watched the mass graveyard. What a dishonourable way to die and be buried just like an animal. The squad followed behind sagiri, slower now. Eyes moved across the markers, reading what little remained. The names worn away, symbols broken, dates lost to time. There were too many. Not from one battle. The graves span from decades old to a decade old. Some graves were marked in clusters, packed close together, uneven, rushed; they carried the evidence of how rushed they had been buried. Others stood alone, spaced apart as if placed with care. A few had been reclaimed by the land entirely, their markers swallowed, leaving only slight depressions in the ground.

No recent disturbance. They had no one to visit. Only aging in silence. The air felt heavier. Sagiri’s gaze moved across the field, steady, calculating, but quieter now. Had his clan been buried the same way? Were there even bodies left to bury after the fire? Did anyone visit them to pour them a drop of water to quench their thirst as they lay in wait for him? His anger, sadness, and pain grew.

“We should keep moving,” Yoka said. He was leading the left-hand formation while Tavora led the right. sagiri had completely stood still, lost in his own memories, but when Yoka took a step to walk over the graveyard, he swirled around too fast, and his anger and sadness-filled eyes froze Yoka in place.

“Don’t step any further!!” Sagiri growled. He could not help but imagine that someone was at the moment walking over the graves of his loved ones.

Everyone froze in place. His voice had carried so much emotion that the ground shook and the archive stirred in warning.

“This is not the time or place. We have to cut across, so get to the other side sooner.” Yoka said after a moment, going to take another step.

“I said, don’t go any further!!” Sagiri warned again, and the air cackled with tension.

“Sagiri, what is it?” Kiuga rushed to his side. Sagiri did not answer but sank into a crouch and laid his hands on the first grave lying in front of him.

“I will visit soon and bring a cup of water,” Sagiri said silently. He was making a promise to his clan.

“Southerner, this is not the time to feel nostalgic. We have a mission to complete.” Tavora said. He sighed with boredom and went to take a step into the mass graveyard. Even worse, his right foot was dangling over an old grave. How disrespectful. he was more so a Tagayian, and stepping on a grave his kind caused was just too disrespectful.

“I said DONT!!” Sagiri snapped, standing to his feet. An invisible force hit Tavora square in the chest and sent him flying. He flew a few feet through the air but managed to land, catch himself, and control his fall. It was almost futile even as he twisted his body to land properly because he still managed to land carelessly and fell to one knee, hunched forward, and spat blood. But Sagiri was not done.

Tavora needed to die.

“NOKAI!! Sagiri called, and his blades tore through the archive pocket.

“Sagiri No!!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep