376 - Regressor of the Fallen Family

In Chapter 376, the titanic battle between the giants unfolded at a pace beyond the comprehension of mere mortals, and even seasoned knights struggled to perceive the full extent of the clash. It wasn't solely the obscuring crimson and translucent sphere conjured by the sword soul that hindered their view. This confrontation between superhumans at a corner of the battlefield was so intense, it seemed as if they existed in an entirely different realm. Yet, amidst the chaos of the war where lives constantly hung in the balance, some captivated onlookers grasped a crucial insight. – The outcome would be decided sooner than expected. The red sphere was rapidly shrinking. Inside, the once flashing silver light was now visibly slowing down. Then, a moment later. – Boom! With a thunderous sound, a part of the barrier-protected wall shattered, marking the complete disappearance of the red sphere. It wasn't atop the wall where the victor and the vanquished emerged but beneath it. Cough. “Hah, haha. Damn it, all within this time…” Tris, on one knee, spat blood, casting a weary smile, while Harmon stood before him, pale and bleeding from the corner of his mouth, but with his sword held high. This unexpected outcome left the surrounding imperial forces utterly frozen. "Understand, there's no time for leisure!" Surrounded by imperial troops, Harmon gritted his teeth and readied his sword. Even in the face of a silver slash aimed at his neck, Tris simply smiled. “As expected, I made the right choice.” Responding to his words, another silver aura blade swiftly closed in on Harmon from the side. “No chance!” Bang! With a grimace, Harmon squeezed out his remaining strength, witnessing the one-eyed knight being flung backward. A familiar face. ‘Jerome Dikaid!’ The frenzied combat with the sword soul had likely blinded him to the approach of another aura user so close. Up to this point, he had anticipated this much. But then… – For the Empire! As four knights appeared, uttering the same phrase with identical voices, Harmon’s eyes widened. From their entire bodies emanated a blazing crimson aura, unmistakably identifying them as aura users. It felt unsettling, strangely fragile, as if it could break any moment, yet it was undoubtedly aura. ‘Not one, but five? Five aura users approached, and I failed to notice?’ Had he sensed even a hint of their presence, he wouldn't have engaged in such a final duel with the sword soul. “My apologies, Divine Sword. You must die here.” As Tris’s grave words reached Harmon’s ears, the clashing crimson and white lights beneath the wall blazed brilliantly. The clash of the two superhumans representing their respective nations. To everyone's astonishment, it was Tris who collapsed. With Harmon seizing the upper hand, a cheer erupted from the wall. “The commander defeated the Empire’s best sword!” “We won!” “Hurrah!” However, there weren't many foolhardy enough to disregard the enemy soldiers waving their swords right before their eyes and instead gaze at something else. But the few who had the audacity and composure to announce Harmon’s victory prompted other soldiers to shout, even if they didn’t precisely understand the cause. Startled, they then realized the implications of their words. “Really!?” “Ahhh!” The morale, which had plummeted under adverse conditions, was soaring. A single duel was altering the battlefield's dynamics in real time. But those few warriors fixated on the duel’s result could only widen their eyes at the scene that followed. Amidst the rampaging crimson aura, the struggling silver gradually began to be overwhelmed. “No!” “Commander!” “Protect the commander!!!” Led by Vice-Commander Ryan Harper, the temple knights sprang off the wall and descended, akin to moths drawn to a flame. “Aaagh!” “Retreat, everyone… cough.” “C-Commander.” The paladins threw themselves in the path of the crimson aura’s wave to shield Harmon. “This damned thing! Retreat! I said retreat!” Blood flowed from Harmon’s tightly clenched lips. Yet, the suffocating crimson aura surrounding him allowed no space, and the relentless stream of paladins leaping down the wall showed no sign of abating. “Commander, retreat…!” As Ryan Harper clutched the sword penetrating his chest and fell, his tragic form painfully etched itself into Harmon’s vision. Just before his body was split, a fleeting gap appeared, filled by another silver aura blade, slightly different from Harmon’s own. Bang! “Gah!” In this brief skirmish, it happened for the fifth time already. No matter how skillfully Jerome filled the gaps, as if anticipating them, it only fueled Harmon’s resentment. All the while, his subordinates continued to leap down the wall. “Commander!” “For the commander!” Yet, the four knights cutting them down remained implausibly steady. Not a trace of excitement typical of a fierce battlefield or emotion in response to the selfless sacrifices they witnessed. ‘Like emotionless puppets…’ Their sinister aura, much like their bizarre aura, lent a strange, sticky feeling, but their combat prowess was undoubtedly formidable. Their swordplay bore the essence of the sword soul with whom they had just clashed, indicating they had been properly trained by him. ‘But why this monstrous sensation…?’ However, there was no time to ponder their peculiar behavior further. The imperial forces, perhaps emboldened by these four knights, ignored Harmon, now cornered, and focused on ascending the wall. Meanwhile, the paladins, who should have been commanding the wall’s defenses, refused to stop leaping down to save him. ‘This won’t do.’ Despite the raised morale after defeating the sword soul, his subordinates were neglecting their positions to save him, creating clear gaps in the formation. It was a time for risk-taking. “Hah!” With a deep breath, Harmon launched himself, not towards the wall, but into the enemy ranks. The paladins, initially rushing to rescue Harmon, found themselves thrown into disarray as one of the four knights encircling him stepped forward without hesitation to block his path. Unfazed despite the unexpected situation. ‘They truly behave like puppets engraved with their skills,’ Harmon mused. How could an aura user be a puppet? Aura, the power one could only acquire when the soul surpasses its limits to perfectly control the body. Yet now, he had no choice but to rely on that vague intuition. Even as he saw the enemy's sword, coated in a crimson aura, pierce toward his chest, Harmon chose to disregard it, thrusting his own blade towards his opponent. His dodge was merely a slight twist of the body to evade the heart-seeking strike. Consciously opting to ignore the incoming attack, he focused solely on stabbing forward with his sword. Thud. A fiery agony surged through his right chest as if a burning iron had been thrust into it. But gritting his teeth and suppressing the pain, Harmon took yet another step forward. His indistinct hunch had been correct. The enemy halted, thrown off by the reckless maneuver as if uncertain how to react in such a situation. That momentary hesitation sealed the fate of the battle. Harmon’s sword, having pierced his enemy’s chest, swung swiftly down to cleave the opponent cleanly at the waist. Slash! The torso and lower body parted seamlessly. “!?” Creak. If a sound could be heard, it would be something akin to a faint screech. Even Jerome, assisting from the back, was caught off-guard by Harmon’s bold, unexpected move and reacted a beat late. No, so startled were they, the remaining trio stepped back, seemingly in complete retreat. ‘This is it!’ Quickly suppressing the enemy’s aura within his body with holy power, Harmon stopped the bleeding from his wounds. Amidst the sheer exhilaration that numbed the pain, he turned on his heels and shot backward, exploiting the genuine opening created for the first time in the fight. At that moment. Snap. An unexpected hand clutched at Harmon’s ankle. “Ugh!?” It belonged to the enemy aura user, whose body remained only a torso. His eyes widened at the unbelievable sight, and an unimaginable voice rang out from within the enemy's helmet. “For the Emperor. Long… live!” Simultaneously, Jerome darted back, while the remaining trio charged toward the immobilized Harmon. ‘What?’ A dreadful premonition pounded his soul wildly. And then, the torso clinging to his ankle exploded. Boom! Rumble. The explosion was sudden and immensely powerful. Even the paladins and imperial troops engaged in combat beneath the eastern wall were swept away. And such explosions continued three more successive times. Boom! Clatter. With the final blast, a plume of dust obscured the sky, and the ground, cracked as if by an earthquake, halted the imperial assault momentarily. It was an explosive disaster that abruptly paused the intense battle at the eastern wall. “…Incredible.” Jerome muttered in a daze, and Tris, watching the ascending cloud of dust, let out a bitter smile. “Indeed. They said each one cost more than a hundred million gold, and they certainly delivered. It's only regrettable that they’re single-use.” “A hundred million…” Could one’s voice grow quieter in proportion to the shock? “How many more of those does the Imperial Court have?” “…I don’t know. However, there can’t be too many. No matter how powerful, they are too costly, expiring rapidly once the aura is activated.” Power. Cost. Clenching his lips at those inhuman terms, Jerome forced himself to reply. “What? Troubled by the use of life?” “N-No.” “Don’t worry about it. Remember just one thing: everything is…” “For the Empire.” “Exactly.” Seemingly pleased with his student's response, Tris offered a satisfied smile, then, as if addressing a person, bowed respectfully toward the settling dust cloud. “Weapons immunized to mental magic, inscribed with the basics of my swordsmanship. They were weapons meant to capture the Archmage, the Serpent that Swallowed the Truth. You, Divine Sword, were a being extraordinary enough to warrant such measures.” A figure he could not defeat with conventional swordsmanship, necessitating alternative methods. Tris realized he would never forget the Divine Sword for the remainder of his days, memorializing him in his thoughts. Yet, through the gradually settling dust, an irritating beam of light piercing into the sky caught his attention. “What is that?” “Hm?” A light, profoundly sacred in nature. And he was now an enemy of the Holy Nation. Recognizing this, Tris’s face hardened, and he bellowed to those around him. “Charge at once! Resume the war!” “B-But my lord, the ground…” “Have the cavalry circumvent, and have the mages level the ground! Take the capital immediately!” Tris, straining his voice to the limits, let out a resounding command across the battlefield. As the Imperial troops reformed according to his orders, through the nearly cleared dust appeared a woman. An ethereal beauty floating in the void above the crater, clad in a white robe that covered her completely and wearing a pristine mitre. – Now is not the time for you to rest. A voice with an odd echo, and a beam of light rising from the ground. Through it, the silhouette of a man, barely alive or unconscious, was lifted toward the wall. ‘Divine Sword!!!’ Tris’s eyes widened to twice their size. “No! Charge, everyone! Ensure the Divine Sword is slain!” His thunderous voice echoed powerfully. But as the Imperial knights and cavalry attempted to flank, the woman vanished along with the Divine Sword into the safety beyond the wall. ‘A Saint? Did the Saint possess such power? Damn it! Why wasn’t there any…? No, no matter. We still hold the definitive advantage.’ Clenching his lips once more, Tris urged his subordinates again. “The Divine Sword is incapacitated! Their commander has fallen! Charge quickly!” There was sound reasoning in his command. Yet, it was stopped by an incoming message magic. [Your Excellency. The magic circle is reaching its limit faster than expected. The sacred barrier is also recovering unusually swiftly. It seems you should reassess the situation before proceeding.] The imperial forces, poised to charge ahead like enraged bulls, had no choice but to halt their advance.