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Infinite Dendrogram - Volume 9 - Chapter 4




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Chapter Four: Gifted Barbaros 
Thirty years ago, Quartierlatin mansion. 
In the Quartierlatin mansion’s garden, a young married couple was sitting around a white table underneath a large tree, drinking tea and chatting. 
“Oh, so you plan to take him on your next trip to Dryfe?” 
“Yes. While I’m at it, I will also introduce him to the Barbaros family.” 
The wife was Countess Zermina Quartierlatin, the only child of the previous count. 
The husband was Mark Quartierlatin, an Altarian diplomat who’d married into the family. 
The two had married out of love, which was a rarity for nobles, and had been blessed with their first child just a year ago. 
Their son’s name was Emilio. Bathed in the sunlight leaking through the tree, he was lying asleep in a carriage next to their table. 
They had a garden because of the husband’s fondness of them, and the time the three of them spent here was nothing but bliss. 
“He’s only a year old,” Zermina said, expressing her worry. “Are you sure he should go on such a long trip?” 
“We’re taking a dragon carriage, so we will be safe,” he said soothingly. “The mission will have a Bishop from the state church, as well as many escorts, including the one and only Mr. Faldreed.” 
“Oh, my. The Sacred Blazer?” 
“Yes. He said he also has business with the Barbaros family. Apparently, he and The Ram... Ronaldo Barbaros... are going to have a duel.” 
“Mark... you care more about the duel than your work, don’t you?” she asked suspiciously. 
“Ah... N-No, no, certainly not!” he overreacted, making it clear that she’d hit the nail on the head. 
“Ugh...” she sighed. “Don’t forget your work, at least.” 
“I would never. Far too much depends on how these discussions go.” 
The diplomatic mission he was entrusted with would greatly affect the futures of both Dryfe and Altar, as they would discuss the potential of a marriage between the kingdom’s royalty and the imperium’s bloodline. 
If that happened, it would greatly strengthen their alliance and perhaps even lead to a union of the two countries. 
However, all of the king’s children — including the firstborn, Eldor Zeo Altar — were male. Though the imperium had a princess, her family on her mother’s side was too lacking in status to marry into the kingdom. 
So Mark expected the discussions to be about the potential marriage in the later generations of kings, imperators, and princesses. 
The mission had a number of other goals planned, but the focus was on that subject — the talks of future decades. 
As a count, he cared a lot about the future of Altar, but as a father, he was obviously concerned about the well-being of his son. 
“If you’re to take Emilio, maybe I should go, as well?” asked Zermina. 
“Mina, you don’t like using dragon carriages, do you?” he said. “Not to mention that there’s count work to be done.” 
“That’s true, but... I’ll ask again. It is safe, right?” 
“Of course. We will come back in less than a month. I imagine I’ll be missing your cookies dearly at that point.” The count picked up one of the cookies from a plate on the table and took a bite. They were handmade by his wife, and he always enjoyed their gentle taste. 
“Ahh! Ooh...” Emilio suddenly became noisy. He was awake now and staring at the cookie with his heterochromic eyes. Those were a trait he’d inherited from his mother. 
“You want a cookie?” his father asked. 
You could tell that was what he wanted by the way he reached for it. 
“You can’t,” scolded Zermina. “You’re too young for cookies. You don’t even have a full set of teeth yet.” 
“Nnh...” The boy became sulky as though he actually understood her words. 
“Ha ha ha! Emilio, just wait a few months and you will have the teeth for them. Or maybe you’ll be able to eat them by the time we come back from Dryfe. Who knows?” 
“Oh, then I’ll have to work hard and welcome you with my best cookies yet,” Zermina giggled. 
Her husband chuckled, and it soon spread to little Emilio. 
It was peaceful quality time with the family. 
A week later, the count took Emilio on his trip to Dryfe. 
The lady saw them off with a smile on her face, completely unaware that this would be the last time they ever saw each other. 
 
The entire scene was drowned in flames. 
The road, the trees — everything was burning to a crisp. 
There were countless limbs littered in the fire, and it was easy to see that they had come from humanoid marionettes. In fact, there were no human limbs anywhere in the blaze. 
Those were outside of it. 
The human limbs had been torn off by the marionettes, and were now burning and collapsing. They easily surpassed one hundred in number. They’d belonged to at least fifty people. 
Ignoring such statistics, they were the corpses of the Altarian mission to Dryfe. 
On the road from the Quartierlatin County to Barbaros County, on the border between the countries, the party had suddenly been swarmed by a horde of marionettes. 
Not even understanding what was happening, the guards assigned to the mission had still fought hard to protect it. 
Alas, they were quickly outnumbered, and as their numbers dwindled, the marionettes finally reached the carriage they were tasked to protect. 
The marionettes were unarmed, but they were strong enough to cling to people and tear off their limbs. 
A user of search magic discovered that they were being controlled by a UBM called “Unguided Horde, Edelvalsa,” with a rank of Mythical. 
It was no doubt an emergency, and those who could use communication magic called for reinforcements from both Dryfe and Altar. 
Unfortunately, no one came, no matter how long they waited. 
After all — they were right at the border between the countries. 
It wasn’t easy to send an army to such a politically-important location, especially if it had to be large enough to battle a Mythical. 
Then again, an army wouldn’t have made it even if they’d moved out the moment they’d learned of this attack, as the mission was almost completely wiped out in less than two hours. 
There was only one person left. 
It was a young man somewhere in his twenties. 
He was clad in armor as red as a blaze, and wore long, navy blue gloves. 
In his hands, he held a sword with a wave-like blade — a flamberge. 
Fifty-odd marionettes were charging at him. Communicating in a language unintelligible to mankind, they approached him to tear him limb from limb, but... 
“Blazing Circle.” 
...the man swung his sword in an arc. 
A flame extended from the blade, splitting all the fifty marionettes in two, then creating explosions on the cut. 
They fell to the ground and began blazing, mixing with the countless other marionette remains spread out on the ground. 
Counting the remains would easily give you a number surpassing one thousand, and many of them were too indistinct to count properly. 
Almost all of those marionettes had been destroyed by the man. 
He was the Sacred Blazer, Aslan Faldreed. 
He was considered to be the strongest man in Altar currently. Anyone who witnessed this display of a would understand why — he was a one-man army. 
But despite crushing his opponents so easily, he showed not a hint of joy. 
After all... he’d already lost. 
Even if he himself was unharmed, none of what he was supposed to protect had survived. A thousand destroyed marionettes meant nothing compared to that. 
There was only one possible outcome to a fight where a solo battle type defended against a wide-scale suppression type — the solo battle type survived, while the wide-scale suppression type destroyed all that was supposed to be protected. 
He didn’t have the power to repel the swarming horde. 
“I’m so sorry...” he muttered, but there was no one who could hear him. He was by far the strongest creature on the battlefield, but he felt nothing but powerlessness. 
The marionettes had been destroyed. The only things moving now were the flames. 
Aslan stood in place, listening to the fire consume the marionettes, when suddenly, he heard something different. 
Not wasting a moment, he ran to the source of the sound — the collapsed dragon carriage. 
He rose it up, opened it, and lost his words. 
The interior was in a terrible state. A marionette had gone in and slaughtered everyone. 
The officials had all died, their bodies ruthlessly torn apart, but then the marionette had been destroyed, too. Count Mark Quartierlatin, the main diplomat, had pierced the marionette’s head with his blade. 
The count was dead, but he had been protecting something behind him — a piece of cloth that was still moving. 
Aslan gently took it in hand and unwrapped it a bit to expose the face of the count’s only son... Emilio. 
Aslan closed his eyes tightly and prayed. 
This wasn’t a miracle from God, but the mere result of a father protecting his child. Thus, he prayed for Mark to find peace. 
Still holding Emilio, Aslan left the dragon carriage and heard a new sound. 
Countless footsteps were marching from somewhere in the distance. They were human-like, but inhuman — akin to the uncanny valley of human footsteps. The marionette reinforcements had come, this time numbering to ten thousand. 
“Marionettes...” the man muttered as he shielded the child in his left arm and opened his eyes wide. “Come, if you’re willing. For the sake of this child, and for the kingdom... I will burn you all.” 
Gripping his blade in his right hand, he stood alone and faced the encroaching horde. 
But right as the strongest warrior clashed with the ten thousand marionettes... 
“Distortion Pile!” 
...a shockwave cut through the center of the horde. 
Holes larger than the marionettes’ torsos opened up in their bodies and made them fall apart. 
Second and third shockwaves followed, not giving the horde a chance to do anything about it. 
“Prominence Wave!” 
Aslan joined the onslaught and swung his blade, creating what could only be described as a tsunami of flame. 
The ten-thousand strong marionette horde lost a tenth of their numbers in just a few attacks. 
The humans, however, had doubled in power. 
“Yo, Aslan. I’m here to give ya a hand.” said the man now standing next to him. “Looks like I’m late, though.” 
He was wearing mechanical armor, equipped with a gigantic pile bunker in its right hand. 
The face cover on his helmet opened up, and he looked at the state of the mission with grief in his eyes. Though his armor looked clunky, his expression was truly refined. 
He was none other than the Barbaros County’s heir apparent, and Dryfe’s strongest warrior — The Ram, Ronaldo Barbaros. 
“You aren’t late. I thought I wouldn’t get reinforcements for a while still,” said Aslan. 
“I know what you mean. I just went out ’cause I’d had enough of listening to the old farts in Vandelheim wasting time. Sorry, but we won’t get any real reinforcements for a while.” 
“It’s fine. I don’t mind” Aslan stood back-to-back to Ronaldo. They faced the nine thousand marionettes surrounding them. “I’ve already gotten the best reinforcements I could’ve asked for.” 
“Heh. Guess I’ll have to live up to that, huh? Let’s do this!” 
Placing their lives in the hands of each other, the two men, who trusted one another more than anyone else, clashed with the marionettes. 
 
“Blaze Edge!” 
“Distortion Pile!” 
Altar’s and Dryfe’s strongest pulverized a hundred marionettes with just a single hit. 
Unbeatable, two-man army, unmatched, peerless — there were many terms to describe them. 
After meeting up, the two went on to destroy over ten thousand marionettes. 
Even so, the battle wasn’t over, for there were still thousands more, and they only kept increasing. 
This was the power of the Mythical UBM known as “Unguided Horde, Edelvalsa.” 
It had a skill called “Marionette Brigade Creation,” and the name said everything you needed to know — it was a menacing power that created a marionette army as vast as a brigade. 
It needed wood or stone for the material, but the border between Altar and Dryfe was a woodland, so there was no problem on that front. 
Individual marionettes were weak — equal to just single low-rank jobs. To experienced Superior Jobs, such as Sacred Blazer and The Ram, they were like paper. 
However, there were just too many of them. 
The battle had been going on for dozens of hours now, draining them of their energy and making it harder to evade attacks. 
“Feels like we haven’t done shit to their numbers,” said Ronaldo as he opened his face cover and wiped the sweat off his face. “The main unit’s gotta be hidin’ somewhere. I can just imagine its shit-eating grin.” 
He suddenly aimed his pile bunker behind him and fired it, piercing a marionette. 
“What a goddamn monster, though. We’ve taken out a whole bunch of UBMs, but this one’s worse than all of ’em combined,” he added as he eyed his pile bunker and machine armor — both Legendary special rewards. 
“Let me correct you.” Aslan made a serious face. “You say you imagine the main unit grinning, but according to our search magic, it’s a doll, too. Its expression doesn’t change.” 
“Man, you never change, do ya? You said something like that when we downed that sphinx, too.” 
“That takes me back...” Aslan said as he looked at his long gloves — the remains of the UBM he and Ronaldo had defeated. They were an Ancient Legendary special reward, and though they gave him a great advantage against magic and its users, they were useless to him in this battle. 
“You think the other marionettes’re far?” asked Ronaldo. “Wanna try escapin’ through where there’re less of ’em?” 
“A foolish question,” Aslan declared. “Running away means leaving this UBM until the army comes to take care of it — who knows when that will happen — or until it starts invading Altar and Dryfe. At the rate it’s making its marionettes, it could create an army of over a hundred thousand in just a few days. That would be a disaster.” 
“Guess we got no choice, then.” 
“Yes... We have to beat it here and now.” 
They both looked around. 

The trees that’d been here before had all been used as marionette material, so they could see far into the distance. 
They saw nothing but the remains covering the surface and a new marionette army coming their way, signaling yet another attack. 
“By the way, let me hold the kid,” Ronaldo said as he extended his left hand towards the cloth in Aslan’s arm. Emilio was sound asleep. 
Aslan refused. “No need.” 
He hadn’t been able to protect the mission. Emilio was the sole survivor of the group, as well as a child that Count Quartierlatin had given his life to save. 
Thus, protecting the child was his duty. He would bring the child back home, along with the inventories containing the remains of the others who’d perished at the hands of this UBM. 
“Don’t get stubborn with me now,” his friend said. “Your right arm’s broken. You can’t fight with that boy in hand, can ya?” 
“Yours is broken, too, you know? I can tell just by looking.” 
“Don’t mind this. It doesn’t make pile-bunkering any harder,” Ronaldo laughed. “Also, that boy right there’s gonna be my daughter’s husband. I’ve gotta keep the li’l guy safe.” 
Aslan’s eyes opened wide. “Your child’s already born?” 
“Nope. Not yet. But I mean, my honey’s the one birthin’. I just know it’s gonna be a cute girl! No! It’s gonna be a cute girl ’cause I want it to be a cute girl!” 
“You’re a noble... Shouldn’t you wish for an heir? Though I guess I’m in no position to talk. I was a nomad before I rose to nobility.” Aslan grinned wryly and handed Emilio to Ronaldo, who took him with lots of care. “You’d better keep him safe.” 
“Don’t need you to tell me that.” Ronaldo formed an indomitable smile. “Anyway, what now? We holdin’ out until the cavalry gets here? Whenever that’d be...” 
“No... we’re taking out the main unit.” 
“You know where it is?” 
“Yes. I’ve kept track of the variations in their reinforcement times, the percentage of stone marionettes mixing with the wooden ones, and general information about the location — particularly, the state of the woodlands. I’m seventy percent sure I know where it is.” 
“You know, I thought this during the Veltboule Sphinx battle, but damn, you’ve got what it takes to be a detective.” Ronaldo grinned wryly. He still couldn’t believe Aslan could say things like that and act like it was nothing. 
“Anyway, are you up for this?” Aslan asked. “There’s a thirty percent chance we’ll go right into the enemy army and get nothing for it, and a seventy percent chance we’d be fighting Edelvalsa in tatters.” 
“Oh, I’m up for this. And don’t worry. No matter how bad it gets, I’ll protect this boy.” 
“I see. Shall we go, then?” 
“Yeah!” 
Thousands of marionettes right before them, and Edelvalsa somewhere beyond... 
With a goal set, the two warriors faced and braved through the horde. 
 
Two days had passed since the appearance of Unguided Horde, Edelvalsa. Both Altar and Dryfe were keeping to themselves and preparing for a potential attack from the UBM. 
Despite this, there was a group running through the border. 
It consisted of men riding tank-type Magingears, known as Geists, and replica Prism Steeds. They were the army of the Barbaros County. 
One replica rider was ahead of them all. He was the current head of the Barbaros family, and one of the generals of the Dryfean army: General Barbaros. 
He was also the proud father of The Ram, Ronaldo Barbaros, the man who’d gone to aid in the fight against Edelvalsa before anyone else. 
He’d wanted to rush to save the diplomats the moment they’d received their comms magic request for aid. However, the current imperator and the other higher-ups had restrained him. 
“Sending an army to the border might not be wise.” 
“It wouldn’t be good for us politically if we move an army there before they do.” 
“It wouldn’t be good if the imperium’s army is the only one to suffer casualties. In fact, we should wait until the kingdom wears the UBM down, then move out to finish it off and take the Mythical special reward for ourselves.” 
Calling their assertions “political” felt like an insult to politics. 
General Barbaros had wanted to bellow out his disagreement towards their decision, but as an army man, he simply couldn’t. 
Instead he’d tried to persuade them like the general he was. 
His son, however, had said, “It’s fine if we don’t go with an army, right?” and headed out to the border by himself. 
A whole day had passed since then. General Barbaros had successfully convinced the imperator to allow an army to move to the border, but only if it was Barbaros’s own and no others. 
“Please, tell me I’m not too late...!” 
Tortured by unease, he urged his army to move as fast as possible. 
He wasn’t the only one who felt that way. All of the Barbaros army men who knew Ronaldo felt the same. They all broke their speed limits and records to rush to aid him and the diplomats. 
Then marionettes appeared before them, slowing them down. 
“These must be Edelvalsa’s!” 
They made short work of them. Ironically, this encounter gave them hope. 
After all, if there were marionettes, the battle wasn’t over yet. 
And if they hadn’t invaded either country yet, it could only mean that someone was keeping them busy. 
“I’m coming, son!” General Barbaros shouted as he broke through the marionettes in his way. 
Crossing thousands of marionette remains, they arrived at a forest that seemed to be their source. 
“RONALDO! MR. FALDREED! WE CAME TO YOUR AID! ARE YOU WELL?!” His voice, filled with the hope that it would reach his son, resounded throughout the forest. 
For some reason, however, it made all the marionettes around him just... stop. 
They now just stood in place, not doing anything. 
No — they all started pointing in a single direction. 
General Barbaros found it odd and suspected it was a trap, but he was confident he would make it regardless. 
However, what he found upon following the marionettes’ directions was far worse than a trap. 
“Aahh...” Vocal despair left his mouth as he fell to his knees. 
His son, Ronaldo Barbaros, was lying against a large tree, clad in only his innerwear, for his armor had vanished. 
The disappearance of a special reward could only mean one thing — he was dead. 
In his left arm, he held some sort of blanket, while his right hand was fixed in an odd state, like he’d just pulled a trigger. It was proof that he’d held the pile bunker, his other special reward, until his dying breath. 
The death of his son made the general bawl his eyes out. “Ronaldo! Ronaldo...! I’m so sorry... If only I’d come earlier... ohh...!” 
The grief from losing his son, the regret that he had been too late to save him, the guilt towards his mother and his son’s wife... such feelings whirled inside him and tortured him. 
“General! Look there!” One of his soldiers pointed to something surrounded by countless marionette remains. 
It was the body of a man he knew well — his son’s friendly rival, Aslan Faldreed. 
He’d died standing. His special rewards were gone, but his hands were positioned in a way like he had stabbed someone below him. 
The two soldiers had fought until the very end. 
“So... you both died as you lived... Hm?” 
As the father within General Barbaros lamented the loss, the soldier within him calmly began to wonder. 
What became of Edelvalsa? 
His son and the kingdom’s people had surely died hours ago. If Edelvalsa was still alive, it would have surely created an army and invaded one of the countries by now. 
However, the number of marionettes that had appeared before him was far too lacking. 
That could only mean that Edelvalsa disappeared with the deaths of these two men, but that left him with the question of why the marionettes had been able to move right before they’d arrived here. 
As he searched for an answer... 
“Hm?” ...he noticed the cloth held by his son’s remains move slightly. 
“Could it be...?” He gently reached for and took the cloth from his son’s cold hands. 
Inside, he found... 
“A... baby?” 
It was a child not much older than one, covered in high-quality baby clothing. 
There was blood on its face, and it had several minor wounds, but its life wasn’t in danger. 
General Barbaros wondered why it was there, and quickly figured it out. “I see. So you are Count Quartierlatin’s...” 
He remembered that they’d had plans for a marriage between the Quartierlatin and Barbaros families, so Count Quartierlatin had been bringing his son to present him to them. 
The remains of the count himself and everyone else from the Altarian mission were in Aslan’s corpse inventory. 
All of them were gone, except for this baby... Emilio. 
General Barbaros realized that his son had given his own life to protect this child. 
“You were a proud soldier until the very end...” If Ronaldo hadn’t left early and gone ahead on his own, this child wouldn’t have lived, and many Altarians or Dryfeans would surely have died. 
Though his heart was aching, General Barbaros couldn’t have been more proud of his boy. 
“Young Quartierlatin... I will bring you back to your country,” he promised, with respect to the life his son had protected. 
But then, he noticed something odd. 
“Hm? This boy’s eyes...” 
He wiped the blood off the child’s face, and he slightly opened the baby’s left eye. The color wasn’t what it was supposed to be. 
“I heard he had his mother’s blue-green heterochromia. Why are they both blue?” 
The child didn’t fit the description. As he wondered whether there had been more children in the mission, he noticed that the boy’s left eye was artificial. 
Overcome by unease, he used Identification on it, but his skill level was too low to even see the name. 
He called for someone with the highest Identification level and showed it to him. 
The man gasped, and his voice was shivering as he said, “Unguided Gaze, Edelvalsa... th-that’s the name of his eye, sir.” 
“Wh... What?” 
This couldn’t be anything other than the special reward from the Mythical that had ravaged this land, Unguided Horde, Edelvalsa. 
“Wh-Why is...? Don’t tell me he...!” General Barbaros stopped as he thought of a possibility. 
Ronaldo and Aslan might have died before Edelvalsa. The wounds from the battle had caught up to it after their deaths. 
Since Emilio had been the only survivor when the MVP was being chosen, it had gone to him. 
Naturally, the boy was far from the “Most Valuable Player” in this battle. However, if, for example, a single cry had attracted even a little bit of the UBM’s aggro, that could have counted as a big enough contribution to the battle to make him the MVP if there had been no one else. 
If that was the case, then perhaps the marionettes they’d run into on the way here had been summoned by Emilio instinctually trying to protect himself. 
“G-General...” The man who identified the eye looked at General Barbaros with unease. 
Instead of responding, he just looked down at the sleeping child and said, “I’m sorry...” 
The apology was full of despair and guilt, for he realized that the promise he’d just made would be impossible to fulfill. 
 
He was right. 
The imperator issued an order to tell the kingdom that the Mythical was defeated, but no one had survived. 
The reason for this lie was Emilio’s special reward — an immense power that only he could wield. 
If he were brought back to Altar, the kingdom would surely gain more power, but if Dryfe claimed he’d died and raised him themselves, his power would be theirs. 
The countries had a good relationship, but a Mythical special reward was valuable enough for them to lie to an ally. 
The imperium had lost The Ram, too. He was their most powerful warrior, and they needed to fill the void. 
The politicians had also argued that, “Having him with us would give us more power over the potential union with Altar.” 
As a Dryfean soldier, General Barbaros couldn’t argue against that. 
This was on a whole other level than the reinforcement matter. It was possible that the imperator wouldn’t have hesitated to eliminate anyone opposing this decision. That was how powerful a Mythical was. 
However, General Barbaros asked for one thing: to be allowed to raise the child. 
The imperator allowed it right away. 
The Barbaros family had produced excellent soldiers every generation, not to mention that General Barbaros had been the one to nurture the late Ronaldo Barbaros. The imperator was certain the child would grow to be a force to be reckoned with. 
And with that, Emilio was adopted by the Barbaros family. 
However, the general didn’t take him with the intention of turning him into a human weapon. 
“This power given to you will never let you have peace from battle,” he spoke to the babe in his arms. “You will be forced to fight and train as a human weapon for the imperium... as part of the Special Mission Task Force.” 
Sad as it was, it was a future set in stone. 
“But if possible... I want you to grow up with love.” 
That was the general’s real desire. 
“My precious boy gave his life to save you... so I want you to find happiness.” 
He wanted to prevent the child from becoming little more than a tool, and to protect at least a little bit of what his son had died fighting for. 
“I’m an old, contradictory fool... a weak idiot who can’t even return you to your mother’s arms. You have every right to resent me. But...” 
No one knew what he was going to say next. But whatever it was, it was cut off by Emilio giggling and extending his little arm to the general. 
Upon seeing that, he could no longer speak... and only cried. 
Thus, Emilio became a Barbaros and was given a new name: “Gifted.” 
By chance, it coincided with a word from Earth. 
He’d lost his real name. He’d lost his father. He’d lost his entire life. And in compensation, he was instead gifted with immense power. 
The life of Emilio Quartierlatin had ended, and the life of Gifted Barbaros, Dryfe’s future field marshal and strongest tian, had begun. 
 





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