384 - Regressor of the Fallen Family

Chapter 384 - The Blessing of the Ocean will allow you to withstand any attack nine times. After fending off a series of assaults from the specters, the priestess, her face pale and worn, spoke these words. She gathered the last of her sacred power to bestow a blessing upon him, warning him of the peril facing the eastern walls. Thus, Viktor set aside any questions he had about the priestess and ran with abandon. It was at this crucial moment that he saved his brother's life. How could she have known the situation at the walls from deep within the temple's sacred heart? Such insight certainly warranted the term “seer,” but the priestess’s foresight was not flawless. ‘She said it would endure nine times!’ During those fleeting moments of fierce battle, none of the sword spirit’s strikes had landed directly. Yet, he could sense the priestess’s blessing, which she had cast upon him, was nearing its limit. It was not that her words were incorrect... ‘This guy's a monster.’ Viktor gritted his teeth, facing the sword spirit who, despite the unexpected ambush, began pressuring him with even more intensity. He sensed why this was happening. It was the same ominous energy he had encountered in training bouts with his liege—a power that could cleave through space itself. Even his lord had to gather energy for a final attack, but this sword spirit channeled that destructive force into each strike. Thus, simply defending with his sword shattered the powerful ocean's blessing, meant to protect, as if it were nothing. Thankfully... “A real paladin, are you?” While his opponent maintained the pressure, Viktor noticed the sword spirit was bewildered, and the fiery aura surrounding him was diminishing rapidly. It was probably due to the initial blow struck during his ambush and his brother's visibly manifested magic now weighing down on the spirit. At that moment, he saw two allies, who had been flung outside the walls earlier, rejoining the battlefield, albeit a bit belatedly. “Charge!” “Die!” Voices more filled with hope than battle cries resonated. The fading flames of the sword spirit and the hardening look on his face bolstered Viktor's confidence. ‘I will defeat the sword spirit here!’ In the face of this dire situation, with every comrade casting their gaze upon him, Viktor regained his determination and resolve. But, as it turns out, their side was not alone in forming strategic guesses. “Master!” From behind Ronian, an eye-patched knight entered the fray just a moment too soon to thwart their hopes. ‘Jerome Dekaid!’ There was no mistaking that face. His silver aura shielded Ronian. Not only that, but a knight wielding a spear with a red aura emerged behind Elen, attacking her. “Your Grace, withdraw!” Though the helmet obscured his face, everyone present knew exactly who he was just by the reddened aura-laden spear and the jet-black armor. ‘Commander of the Western 5th Legion, Arhen Toussat.’ Even the legion commander, who should have been safeguarding the magical circle crafted by the mage of hoarfrost winds, had joined this battlefield. But that had been within the realm of their predictions. “Burdell!” “Leave it to me!” With Ria’s identity having been revealed, it was necessary to exercise greater caution in concealing it, yet there was no time for such concerns. Fortunately, Burdell seemed to understand just from his name being called. Realizing he couldn’t pierce the sword spirit's aura with his strength alone, Burdell began unleashing a barrage of arrows at the newly arrived superhumans. Seeing this, Viktor focused back on the sword spirit. Soon, in his heightened state of awareness, time seemed to slow, and he observed the dwindling flames of the sword spirit. Simultaneously with that, the wrinkles deepening on his face. The renowned sword spirit’s visible weakness was an enticing lure. ‘I can do it!’ In that moment, Viktor entrusted himself to the priestess’s blessing and his regenerative abilities, forsaking defense. He then harnessed his ultimate concentration to execute the sixth technique of the divine sword art, Origin Severing, in real combat for the first time. Wooong. A sphere of grey aura took shape, its destructive force targeting the sword spirit with precision, seeking to exploit his vulnerability. And at that very moment, Viktor saw spheres of orange and red aura being launched simultaneously at the sword spirit. It seemed Elen and Ronian had the same idea, disregarding the superhuman blocking their way to strike at the spirit. The shared resolve in their eyes, abandoning self-preservation to focus all their strength into an attack, conveyed a unified message. – We will kill the sword spirit here! An extraordinary opportunity to break the Empire’s finest sword. ‘We must!’ Though Jerome and Arhen, wearing shocked expressions, aimed to exploit the gaps in Ronian’s and Elen’s defenses, neither they nor Viktor wavered. In this frantic scenario, the sword spirit’s dying flame transferred to his blade. His sword traced a wide arc in the air, and in this slowed time, he alone seemed to move with extraordinary speed, prompting Viktor to clench his teeth. Kwaaaaaang! In an instant, the collision of eight superhumans at a single point triggered an unprecedentedly deafening boom. Urrrrumble. The walls of Nobience, reinforced by divine scripts and fortifications deemed invincible, trembled as if struck by an earthquake. “Ugh!” “Ugh!” “Gah!” With cries of pain reined in, the superhumans were thrown in all directions. “Master!” “Your Grace!” Despite several arrow wounds, Jerome and Arhen seemed relatively unharmed as they ran to the sword spirit, now collapsed and vomiting blood with a pale complexion. The sword spirit, tossed from the battlefield by the mighty clash. The critical wounds were undeniable, yet his life hadn’t been fully extinguished. ‘This, can’t be…’ Viktor longed to rush forth and strike again, but found himself unable to move another inch. And it seemed his fellow warriors were in a similar state. His own left side was so severely torn that his insides and bones were nearly exposed. Staggering, Elen bore not only numerous stab wounds across her body but a fresh, long slash across her abdomen. The most severe injury was Ronian's, inflicted by Jerome's blade, stretching from his right shoulder down to his solar plexus. His eyes, dimming with each passing moment, painted a grim picture as if he could succumb at any second. “O, brother!” Victoria, who was in comparatively better shape, screamed out in panic. “I-I’m fine… Cough! Haa… Ronian first.” Watching her brother cough up blood, Victoria's complexion grew even paler as she bit her lip hard. Her magic was still suppressing the fallen sword spirit. It seemed like maintaining it just a little longer could finally snuff out the life of the old monster. But the injuries among her allies were too severe. Her brother, whose exposed bone injuries were already beginning to heal, and the queen, unsteadily standing despite staggering wounds, were somewhat manageable. However, Ronian's injury, which seemed lethal enough to end his life any moment, was the most concerning. ‘Little Prince!’ No matter his noble title or his massive 2-meter frame, to her, Ronian was still the little prince, the younger brother of her benefactor. She couldn’t let him die. “Hold on, Little Prince!” There was no time to worry about carefully choosing words to maintain her disguised identity. Victoria redirected all the magical power that was suppressing the sword spirit to Ronian. If she were a wizard from the Wizard School, she might have cast some rudimentary healing spell. But all she could do now was cover the wound with her magic and amplify Ronian's life force as much as her residual power allowed. It was a primitive use of magic that barely qualified as a spell. Fortunately, the massive magical energy, coupled with the force resonating from within Ronian, was enough to prevent his injury from worsening. However... “… We'll meet again. I will remember you all,” said the one-eyed superhuman, supporting his fallen master. Meanwhile, the black spear-wielding superhuman stood guard against Burdel as they retreated, and all they could do was watch. “Hooray!” “We won!” “Hurray!!” Though their party was left with a lingering sense of disappointment, for the Holy Kingdom, this was an exceptional triumph. On that day, the imperial forces’ onslaught ceased after their leadership withdrew. * * * “We have overcome the crisis. You are indeed superhuman. After some rest, you should be able to move normally in a few months,” said the old priest, and the group collectively sighed in relief. The high-ranking officials of the Holy Kingdom beamed warmly as they observed this moment. Though far less severe than the unconscious and pale Ronian, most of the group were being treated for serious injuries or internal damage. The room was essentially akin to a critical care unit. The bond and concern for each other even in such dire circumstances warmed the hearts of those watching. There was, however, one exception. “It seems I’m the only one…” Burdel, who had fought valiantly on the battlefield, now felt as though he hadn’t contributed sufficiently. Eilen quietly comforted him. “Sir Amil… You need rest too. You pushed yourself quite hard. I doubt the empire will mount another attack for some time.” Burdel scratched his head even at the pale-faced Aran’s and Eilen's reassuring words. ‘Where is my face as a bodyguard…’ The lord's wife and brother, and even Victoria, the frail mage compared to aura users, were seriously injured. With those he was supposed to protect having gotten more injured than he did, it only made sense for him to feel embarrassed as their guard. Even Viktor, who seemed as uninjured as he, had actually sustained the most severe wounds initially, benefiting mainly from his rapid recovery abilities. Despite his pale complexion, which was evidence that even such miraculous traits couldn't fully heal his internal injuries caused by aura, Burdel felt a misplaced sense of guilt. As Burdel continued to look into space, indecisive and restless, salvation came from an unexpected place. Creak. The creaking of an old door signaled the entrance of the sacred sword, who walked straight into the room and bowed deeply to them at a 90-degree angle. “Thank you for your toil and sacrifice.” All eyes widened, expecting anything but what the Harmon added next. “I am ashamed that I, Harmon, entertained the thought of fleeing with the Holy Maiden and His Holiness the Pope.” “Captain!” “Your Grace, why would you…!” Despite the astonishment of the high priests in the room, Harmon's gaze and stance remained unwavering. “Once again, I want to express my gratitude. It is thanks to your efforts that the Holy Kingdom has been given yet another chance. Truly, I am sincerely grateful.” As the sincerity in his words settled, the turmoil in the room slowly calmed. The moment of silence was finally broken by Eilen's voice. “… You must have come after taking stock of the situation. How went the battle, Captain?” “Around a thousand soldiers died, 500 were critically injured. The Holy Army suffered nearly ten thousand casualties. However…” Harmon paused briefly as he glanced around the room, then concluded with a smile. “Initial estimates suggest the empire suffered at least three times those losses.” “Yes!” Feeling everyone's eyes on him, Burdel realized he had punched the air and yelled without thinking. His cheeks reddened under the focus. With a contented smile, Eilen asked again. “What about the superhuman forces?” “Commander Egon Miller of the Empire's 1st Western Legion and Commander Marlton Heights of the 3rd Legion are confirmed dead. Commanders Miles Boykin of the 2nd and Orlando Brown of the 4th were critically injured and retreated.” “Oh!” “A decisive victory!” “Indeed!” Despite the outpouring of awe, Eilen remained composed and quickly asked about the whereabouts of the most significant figure. “And the sword spirit?” “… He hasn’t reappeared, but judging by the enemy’s demeanor, it seems he’s not dead.” The group collectively sighed at this news. Picking up on the palpable disappointment expressed by the team, Harmon could only shake his head with a faint chuckle. ‘Do they even realize what an astounding achievement they’ve accomplished?’ In the city of Noviens, the atmosphere was almost celebratory. While the jubilation of victory might have been an attempt to obscure the mourning for the many lives lost, it also stood as a testament to the precious victory the Holy Kingdom had achieved in this war. Yet, seeing the heroes of this triumph express regret only made their efforts more appreciated. The war wasn't truly over yet. "The Empire and the Emperor won't give up easily. They’ve now become aware of your existence, and they will surely bring even greater forces against us. Please lend us your strength once more." Five legions, a magic corps, and eight superhumans, including the Empire's most renowned, the sword spirit and the mage of hoarfrost winds, had all been involved. And yet, despite such overwhelming investment, the Empire failed to achieve their objectives—they wouldn't retreat so easily. Next time, they might send a force even more formidable, including the newly emerged superhuman powers, with the intent to thoroughly crush the Holy Kingdom. 'Perhaps the central army itself might move.' Even if he recovered fully, Harmon's singular body could not face the overwhelming assault that would rain down on Noviens from all sides. Therefore, Harmon's plea for their aid was indeed heartfelt. However, Eilen—or rather, Aran—shook her head with an apologetic expression. "…I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can do it."