378 - Regressor of the Fallen Family

Chapter 378 - An Unexpected Encounter for Eillen and Her Companions It wasn't just the presence of the saint that surprised Eillen and her companions. "Aran, Aaron… and Miller. Over here are Rof and Amil?" It was as if they were openly declaring their pseudonyms. With a glance filled with such understanding, the eyes quickly scanned the group. Yet, the Sacred Sword's bearer soon forced a smile and struggled to rise. "Ugh." "Captain, please don’t strain yourself..." "No, no. A precious guest has arrived, and I must at least show the basic courtesy." With his body wrapped in layers of bandages, presenting a weary figure, the Sacred Sword's bearer bowed his head towards the group, groaning. "I apologize for showing you such a pitiful state. I am Harmon Killerbro." "It’s nothing. We have long heard of the Sacred Sword’s renown. It is an honor to meet you." Though Eillen at the front spoke politely, the expressions of the companions bowing behind her were visibly tense. This was due to the rumors they had heard just before the infiltration. The Sacred Sword defeated the Sword Phantom. The true greatest sword on the continent is the Sacred Sword. Although he had not yet recovered from his injuries, even this seemed like a badge of honor befitting the world’s strongest. "In reality, I am just an ordinary person in need of your help now. Thank you for coming." "It’s no problem. Everyone feels the same sense of urgency against the Empire's tyranny." "Even so, you’re the only ones who have extended a direct helping hand… I cannot express my gratitude enough." Despite his staggered movements, the Sacred Sword’s bearer stepped off the bed and bowed respectfully. Perhaps aware of the holy knights listening, he refrained from mentioning any country names, displaying impeccable conduct. "No, there’s really no need to go so far…" "It is nothing more than expressing the minimal courtesy. Please accept it." As the group reciprocated by bowing their heads, a natural sense of warmth filled the atmosphere. "You all, step outside now. I have matters to discuss concerning the war with these guests." The holy knights hesitated, reluctant to leave their severely injured superior. Their reluctance conveyed how much they valued the captain before them. Only after repeated urging did the knights finally close the door behind them. Left alone, the Sacred Sword’s bearer once again surveyed the group. "And over there, that person seems familiar with me, perhaps?" Despite his haggard appearance, the Sacred Sword’s eyes remained sharp as he pointed at Viktor. Suddenly bearing the attention of everyone, Viktor couldn’t help but ponder absurd thoughts. ‘Maybe Lia isn’t actually a genius, just a fool.’ Both significant figures they had met upon arriving in the Sacred Nation had instantly seen through their identities. Already confused by the peculiar statements made by the saintess earlier, Viktor inadvertently ended up glaring at his sister. And his sister, reading his intent through mere eye contact, retorted defensively. "No! It’s the saintess and this person, ah, no, these people who are strange!" As Viktoria burst out, Harmon's forced laughter was accompanied by a nod. "It’s not that I saw through the magic. I just remembered the feel and the force of your aura. As for the rest, it seems Maclaine was involved after all. I owe many thanks." Remembered the feel and force of their aura? Could such a thing be possible? Eillen sighed, her face a picture of resignation as she glanced at the Sacred Sword. "So many people recognize us; it makes me wonder if we can truly accomplish anything." In the Confederation of Small Kingdoms, they achieved perfect disguise with just artifacts, yet here they were, with Viktor's concealment magic added, still being discovered. It was inevitable to feel discouraged. Yet, the Sacred Sword dismissed their concern. "You need not worry about that. Perhaps only someone like the Sword Phantom in the imperial army could figure it out. And knowing a disguise doesn't reveal someone's identity, does it? None of you have personal acquaintances with that person, right?" As the group collectively shook their heads—Logan being the only one who had met the Sword Phantom at Maclaine—Harmon nodded with a small sigh, getting straight to the point. "Once again, thank you for coming to this Sacred Nation. However, even with your assistance, we remain at a disadvantage. In this light, there is something I wish to request of you…." His ensuing words brought about a wave of bewilderment on the faces of Eillen and her companions. * * * The Empire resumed its assault two days after Eillen and her companions arrived. In the meantime, the Sacred Nation had roughly surmised what the Empire was aiming for by biding their time. The abnormally strong magic formation sealing the Divine Grand Barrier—known as the strongest shield delivered by the gods themselves—was crucial for besieging the Sacred Capital. "There was a reckless part to such ambition from the start." The Sacred Sword still hadn't recovered, and the saintess, drained from saving him and restoring the barrier, hadn't regained her divine power either. Both the nation's strongest assets were unable to join the battle, a debilitating blow in itself. Yet the head of the Sacred Nation remained calm. After all, they now had sufficient substitutes to rely on. One of them, Viktor, using the alias Miller, responded to Ilia with a rueful smile. "The Sacred Sword Captain requested that I escort the saintess away if the worst should happen." "Such a devout person. But truly, in such a dire situation, it would be better for the future of the Sacred Nation if Captain Harmon survives over me." Do you really think that way? Despite the serene expression of the saintess, Viktor silently questioned her resolve. The Sword of the Nation and its spiritual pillar. If only one were to survive and rebuild the Sacred Nation, it ought to be the spiritual pillar. Viktor felt it was the right decision, even putting aside his personal emotions. "Thus, please set aside such considerations as before and look after yourself. Of course, with us around, we won’t let things collapse so easily." "Like last time... you mean?" "Yes. Like the last time you instructed me…" Viktor abruptly paused, staring intently at the saintess. The saintess, with an expression of curiosity, gazed back at him with her beautiful face. It was a stark contrast from the haggard appearance she had shown just days before, making Viktor feel a bit unsettled. "…You mentioned before you were sorry for any inconvenience." "Ah... indeed. I am always grateful to Sir Viktor," she replied, nodding as though she had only just remembered. Viktor's expression hardened with disbelief. 'She doesn't remember?!' It wasn't something one could easily forget, yet she showed no recollection. As goosebumps surged over his body, Ilia’s face too reflected a hardened reaction, sensing something was off with Viktor’s awkward demeanor. While Viktor scrambled to come up with an explanation, a lethal presence suddenly fell nearby. Swish. Splatter! A black-masked figure materialized from thin air, with his chest split open, spewing blood like a fountain. "Saintess, get back!" "Y-yes, of course!" Even though it wasn’t pleasing, the moment the battle rekindled, their prediction that the Empire would target a weakened saintess and sacred sword bearer was precisely accurate. Buzz. A grey aura blade sliced through the air like lightning. Though not on the level of his master and lord, Logan Maclaine, Viktor had reached a promising milestone—he could now faintly sense the presence of these shadowy assailants. In the midst of the assault, he almost welcomed the attack, saving him the need for further explanations. Yet the unease still lingered. 'What on earth is happening to you now?' As Viktor's worry for the saintess hiding behind him intensified, outside, the clash of forces began in earnest. Unexpectedly, the start defied most expectations, including those of the Empire. Whoosh. Bang! A severe shockwave struck the magical barrier maintained at the Empire’s rear, caused by the sudden deflection of an attack. The force behind this attack was extraordinary, enough to draw Galen’s attention to the barrier instead of the flow of magic he was managing. A power of such magnitude couldn’t be attributed to a mere force blade. ‘Aura?’ An incomprehensible situation. This barrier formation was placed furthest back within the Empire’s array. Yet, here came a sudden aura-laden assault against the shield? Moreover, the figure behind the attack was invisible, and the escort battalion remained intact. Only Arhen Tousat, commanding the 5th Legion, squinted into the void as if guessing what had occurred. "Could it be…" In Galen’s reckoning, there was only one scenario where this made sense. ‘Does the Sacred Nation harbor assassins on par with the leaders of the ghostly faction?’ Such a thought was absurd. Soon, Galen realized his mistake. Bang! Another powerful strike hit the barrier. This time, he could visually confirm what it was. Yet the result was somewhat ridiculous. The projectile, having flown an immense distance to hit the shield, was an ordinary sight from the battlefield. "An arrow?!" An arrow imbued with aura? Such an unheard-of feat left Galen stupefied, and the aura-laden arrows ceased after just two rounds. “Indeed, they’re well-prepared. The spell formation won’t suffice.” Clucking his tongue in mild disappointment, the brown-eyed, brown-haired man earned a baffled smile from the Sacred Sword. Even though he was forced out onto the battlements against his will, the Sacred Sword hadn’t yet reclaimed his aura. Nevertheless, his sharp eye for judgments remained unaffected. Harmon immediately recognized the astounding capability possessed by this man, who introduced himself as Amil, part of Maclaine's extraordinary cohort. ‘An aura arrow hitting targets from 3 kilometers away?’ A sight so astonishing that it provoked a strong urge to see his true form, stripped of any disguise. Fulfilling such anticipation, Amil, or rather Burdell, presented a calamity to the advancing imperial forces. "Knights, prepare the ropes! Move towards the wall immediately…!” Boom! Leading the imperial charge, Recton Anes sensed something approaching and swung his sword in haste. “Ugh!” The weighty impact made both him and his horse stagger, yet the real concern lay elsewhere. The moment his blade deflected the incoming strike, his aura drained away like receding tides. The implication was clear. A power bestowing despair even upon opponents of lower strength—destructive authority he had strived to attain over 40 years but never grasped. "Aura?!" And, as if acknowledging his scream, a bolt of red thunder pierced his brow. Puff. “Lord Recton!” The life of Recton Anes, commander of the Western First Legion, was snuffed out by just two arrows. "Arrows!?" Tris became aware of the anomaly following closely after Recton's demise. Arrows infused with aura—an occurrence even the formidable Sword Phantom had never witnessed, causing him to swear in disbelief. His response, however, was swift. “Red arrows! Don’t block them—evade!” While the feat was astounding, its limitations were evident. Even infused with aura, the arrows became predictable projectiles from afar. Proper preparation meant top-tier knights could easily dodge them. The quickly disseminated countermeasure spread via flags and word of mouth, reaching the legion’s lead commanders in no time. In the interim, as several centurions and another commander succumbed, the Empire’s response accelerated. Whoosh! "No chance!" Swoosh! “Yes!” As the next two volleys missed, the red arrows began targeting not just commanders but the lower-ranked elite knights. The majority of these knights, however, lacked the skill to dodge the blistering, lightning-like projectiles. “Aaah!” “Ugh!” “Sir Knight!” In the brief moments of charging towards the walls, key personnel who directed the elite soldiers and command structures of the imperial legion, including three commanders, fell dead in significant numbers. The slaughter showed no signs of abating. Tris, his eyes bloodshot with fury and disbelief, turned his gaze towards the fortress walls, seeking the origin of this unexpected calamity. Every volley struck like a curse upon the Empire, relentless and unyielding. Each arrow found its mark with deadly precision, a testament to the unseen archer's unrivaled skill. The once orderly ranks of the imperial army now showed signs of chaos and apprehension, as the unseen threat had turned their advance into a nightmare. Tris strained to discern any movement or figure poised above, responsible for this unrelenting assault. Amidst the turmoil, the sound of orders and the cries of the wounded filled the air, an unsettling symphony to accompany their otherwise strategic march. The Empire’s forces, now wary and disoriented, struggled to regain their composure under the onslaught. It seemed that each passing moment stretched into an eternity, as Tris and his soldiers faced this unseen adversary whose presence loomed over them, cloaked in mystery and menace.