Chapter 29
“What do you think the Abyss seeks in threatening humanity? Wealth? Honor?”
The events of the Great Sword Tournament came to mind.
Instructor of theory, Rahel Dune Zeraye, always began his lessons with such a question.
“From what is known so far, we can deduce that the Abyss’s purpose is conquest. To reclaim all lands.”
“……!”
“When land is consumed by the Abyss, even its leylines are altered. Mountains turn into volcanoes, spewing ash into the sky. Plains rot into swamps or become wastelands, and eventually turn into deserts.”
Such natural transformations played a huge role in pushing humanity further into a corner.
Volcanic ash and fog drastically cut visibility, while the growth of flora and fauna collapsed into grotesque distortions.
Above all, there was the unbearable heat of summer…
Without magical tools to block the heat, soldiers could not even stand on the battlefield, let alone fight.
“One fortunate fact is that this power is not wielded by the demons, but only by the Forgotten Kings.”
“……!”
“That is why, as warrior candidates, you must thoroughly study Hai Kun Tark.”
The power of Hai Kun Tark was fundamentally different from the other Uruk clans.
They wielded the power of kings. The nature of that power varied depending on which king’s blessing they bore.
He remembered Arin Perri raising her hand to ask a question back then.
“I don’t understand why you call that fortunate.”
“Because only the kings can wield it. In other words, anyone not blessed by a king cannot use it. The chieftains of Hai Kun Tark possess tremendous strength, but it belongs to them alone. It is not a power shared with the entire tribe.”
“……!”
“If you defeat these chieftains, the Hai Kun Tark clan loses anywhere from half of its combat strength (if the chief is a warrior) to as much as ninety percent (if the chief is a sorcerer).”
Rahel always paused here, giving the candidates time to think.
“Do you understand what I am saying?”
For him, the habit of thinking for oneself was the most important virtue he demanded of his students.
“Driving back Hai Kun Tark is your duty as future warriors. Your predecessors, the Fayquarior, have already destroyed four of the Hai Kun Tark clans.”
From the clans that had reigned under Hai Kun Tark through long history, only three remained.
Second: Kiral.
Third: Nuigin.
Fourth: Tahuf.
Two clans were annihilated during the Black Summer, and another two were wiped out beyond recovery during the five years of the Red Summer.
“That is why you must do the same. If the Uruk have Hai Kun Tark, then humanity has the Fayquarior. You—yes, you—are the key to overturning this hopeless war.”
Three Thousand Beheadings,
The Kerknood Withdrawal Operation (4)
Why…
Why are these kinds of memories coming to me now…
Even though my vision had been lost in the pain of my eyes melting away, my five senses were slowly returning.
“…O great Lord of Insects, Kelek-Shakishi…!”
The voice of Lanikikan’s prayer to the Forgotten King was heard.
Before the corpse—its form lost, festering like pus, rotting and melting away.
Perhaps because the heat of the explosion had not yet faded, or perhaps because my vision was still in recovery, the corpse wavered like a mirage.
“…Your servant offers up the soul of this blasphemous one unto You…!”
Just as he was about to poke into it with his skull-tipped staff, a torrent of light erupted in the center of the city.
Pure blue radiance, a vast life force that seemed to taunt. The light of the supreme holy sword, Tas-Alpo.
Whether the provocation worked, or whether he had simply found a delicious prey, a wicked smile spread across Lanikikan’s lips.
Clack, clack, clack…
Dragging his staff, Lanikikan turned his body.
The madmen twisting their bodies grotesquely around him began to follow behind their master one by one.
And as if waiting for that moment, a butterfly fluttered up from the corpse—and then what had been a corpse rose into the air as countless butterflies.
“…You tricked him well enough.”
A man pressed with his back against the window of a ruined house muttered as he watched.
Barov the Mad Spear.
An officer of the Black Rose Legion, and one of the so-called Hero’s Party—the elite among elites.
“Arte is useless with battle magic, but when it comes to illusion spells rooted in information warfare, she’s terrifyingly good.”
At the moment of the explosion, Barov had stepped in with divine footwork, rescuing Kaisen and bringing him here.
Of course, it had cost him.
Forcibly amplifying his inner power to the extreme had left one leg fractured. And that wasn’t all.
When he carried Kaisen’s body, drenched in corrosive blood, the flesh and muscles of his left arm melted away until the bone itself was visible.
“…Still cheap enough, if it meant saving the Fae-Quorier.”
Three dragon-blood serum injectors had been stabbed into his body, and the half-melted flesh was slowly regenerating.
The blurry vision brightened; strength and control returned to his limbs.
While that happened, Barov, glancing sideways at him, limped closer as if having made up his mind.
“The truth is, I—no, sorry. I still remember you as a kid from six months ago, so the informal speech slips out.”
“It’s fine.”
“I didn’t save you because you’re the Fae-Quorier. Well, no, that’s part of it, but… not the real reason.”
“?”
“You can despise me if you want. I’m too selfish… Can you save Captain Sharon?”
Save her?
Did that mean she was already in danger?
“You don’t know? She’s planning to kill that bastard and die with him.”
“!”
“She’s lived her whole life on the battlefield. She used to sing about wanting to see Lady Ria become the Fae-Quorier.”
With tears in his eyes, Barov knelt down on his broken leg.
“But hopelessly, I don’t have the strength. No matter how I struggle, I can’t grant that wish… But you—another Hero like her—you can.”
There was no need to hear more.
It wasn’t even about answering his plea.
Helping someone in danger was simply what a Hero did. Yet there was a problem.
“…But I can’t just abandon the right flank. If it breaks, all the refugees on the coast will die.”
“I’ll handle that—”
“With that broken leg of yours?”
Barov gave a flustered groan.
The ground shook again. The demonic coalition forces were pushing through the breach opened by the Tahuf Clan.
It was time to grip the Aradamentel once more and rise. If not for that voice roaring out—
“Graaaaaaah!”
The earth heaved violently at that instant.
The tremor was so intense that bodies were lifted from the ground and slammed down again.
“Ha! The mighty Super Dragon Fae-Quorier Isla has arrived! Where the lowly Kaisen tucked tail and ran, Isla bravely stands her ground!”
Leaping from the belltower, Isla brought down the hammer-shaped holy sword Gaumris onto the earth’s crust.
A troll advancing while trampling homes was crushed in an instant, torn into a bloody paste that rained down like a storm.
The iron armor crumpled like paper.
The shockwave sent charging Uruks tumbling over each other, their formation collapsing into chaos.
“This place is guarded by Isla! Unlike when Kaisen was here, not a single Uruk will pass!”
And behind her, colossal giants thundered into position, blocking the streets to form a living wall.
On their right shoulders was the crest of a dragon clutching a hammer with its hind legs—the titans of the Dragon Hammer Legion.
Barov muttered blankly.
“…Isla Alter Gaumris was supposed to be stationed on the left flank…”
Perhaps she had sniffed out the crisis. Or maybe it was Krauzan’s command. Either way, fortune was with them that she hadn’t run into Lanikikan en route.
Isla had always had a nose for the battlefield. She instinctively sensed danger.
“…Then let’s hurry, while Isla buys us time.”
Meanwhile—
With the annihilation of the right flank, the third line was thrown into chaos.
The third line retreated to the fourth.
The fourth fell back to the fourth-and-a-half.
The 4.5 line was the designated plaza zone where they intended to lure in the Tahuf for extermination.
If they failed here, the fifth line would also be breached—and then the coastline, where evacuations were underway, would become a slaughterhouse.
At the front of that desperate battlefield, Sharon was cutting down hordes of Tahuf berserkers, her breath growing ragged.
I’m… out of breath.
Every turn of the battle pushed her further into disadvantage.
Her sword, the holy blade Tas-Alpo, had the shortest edge of all holy swords. Its supreme technique was a style of thrusts aimed at vital points for instant kills.
But even if she struck their vitals, they still charged in and exploded—making the Tahuf Clan the absolute worst match for her.
I haven’t even drawn out their chieftain yet, and I’m already this breathless…
The next instant, a chain of explosions blew off her left arm.
As she plunged Tas-Alpo into an Uruk’s heart, she released the hilt and pulled a dragon-blood serum injector from her belt, stabbing it into the stump.
This ultra-fast regeneration using dragon’s blood serum was a famed technique of the Fae-Quorier.
It required dragon’s blood as a catalyst, true—but the ability to regenerate limbs on the battlefield, a power reserved only for high beings, was still an overwhelming advantage.
But the explanation hides one flaw.
Dragon-blood serum didn’t restore life. It merely drew upon one’s remaining lifespan to fuel regeneration.
The proof was that Sharon’s once-lustrous white hair was now utterly devoid of elasticity or shine.
She recalled what Camilla had told her the day she injected her final dragon-spirit stone in the Great Sword Trial.
—“So what. Better than dying to the Uruks. It’s not like you’re trying to seduce men anyway.”
As soon as the serum entered, veins, tendons, bones, and muscles surged forth, weaving together a new arm.
In an instant, her left arm re-formed. She reclaimed Tas-Alpo, swung her leg to kick an Uruk away—
And a Tahuf detonated in the distance. That explosion set off others, a chain of blasts engulfing more.
If I had just a bit more strength, I could’ve shifted positions before detonation and slaughtered them all…
Ah, how disgraceful.
I’ve annihilated two whole high Tark clans before, yet against these suicide squads, I’m in this sorry state.
No—let’s admit it. The Tahuf Clan of the high Kun Tark are formidable foes.
Which makes this fitting.
It’s a blessing that I face them in my final battle.
At the end of my life, I can at least thank the gods for granting me the chance to deal with these monsters.
If I end them here, Ria and Kaisen won’t have to fight these creatures themselves.
“U-Unbelievable…”
“As expected of our Captain…!”
“Our lady is the foremost Fae-Quorier! She’ll never lose to anyone!”
While the soldiers cheered, only Ria’s face was wet with cold, ominous sweat.
No. This is too much. She’s pushing herself far too hard. Why? Does she intend to end everything here…?
Sharon Alter Tas-Alpo’s desperate struggle soon met its limits.
First came Krauzan, leading a small cavalry unit, missing his left arm to an explosion.
And behind them—a swarm of madmen beyond counting.
Lanikikan had arrived.
“Master!”
Madmen surged in madness, and Sharon was caught in furious explosions, hurled back.
No, not just hurled—she bounced across the ground, slammed into the outer wall hard enough to leave cracks.
The armor already broken, her exposed flesh was torn and seared mercilessly.
“M-My lady!”
“Protect Lady Sharon!”
Sharon’s vision split into twos, threes, fours, then focused again and again, wavering.
Her own hands trembled so weakly she could barely hold her holy sword.
At last, she sensed her end at the edge of her long journey.
No… I can’t end like this.
The mad horde Lanikikan brought numbered easily over ten thousand.
Hopeless odds—yet she meant to carve through them with her blue holy sword, push on to Lanikikan himself, and end him with the supreme thrust.
But guarding him were the Tahuf Hyullerer—Uruks faster and stronger than any other madmen, their explosions many times deadlier.
My life force is nearly gone. Then this will be the last…
Tracing her fingertips along Tas-Alpo’s spine, Sharon took her final stance.
“Absolute Severance—Azure Sky Radiance Spear, Modified.”
She thrust her sword quietly, serenely, elegantly—yet with indescribable speed.
A torrent of ferocious blue light burst forth.
Like a scream, it shone with piercing brilliance, spearing through the vitals of every madman in its path, surging onward.
Onward, onward.
Killing, killing, killing.
Until the beam reached Lanikikan himself—
And at that very moment…
The light lost power, shattering into countless motes.
Her strength…?
Had she at last burned away every last ember of her lifespan?
Cough—
With a gush of blood from her body, Sharon’s knees buckled.
“Mentakus.”
Lanikikan, who had been watching with alarm, now smiled as he gazed at the fading blue radiance.
“…Fire!”
At Krauzan’s signal, Hosen’s rapid-fire unit, hidden in the structures around the plaza, revealed themselves and pulled their triggers.
The charging madmen fell and fell and fell beneath the bullets.
Gunfire thundered so loud it made the ears ring, but still it did not stop, did not end—
This is a nightmare.
That march of death had no end. There was no escape.
Sharon thought so.
No. This world was a nightmare from the very beginning.
