Chapter 418: Holy Land Lua (5)
The cannonball sent Feltren flying from his horse, tumbling across the rocky terrain for dozens of meters before coming to a halt. His battered body lay still for a moment, and the knights rushing toward him feared the worst.
“Commander! Commander Feltren!”
They thought him dead. But then, to their shock, Feltren staggered to his feet, swaying unsteadily. With one hand, he grabbed the tattered remains of his cape and wrapped it tightly around his torn shoulder, stanching the blood. His pale face betrayed his immense pain, and his legs wobbled as if ready to give out. Yet he stood.
A knight hurried to support him before he collapsed.
“It’s the orcs! They’ve blocked every retreat route!”
Another knight added, “Commander, they’re everywhere! We’re surrounded!”
Feltren, dazed from his injuries, silently cursed their chatter.
“Shut up,” he muttered under his breath, “just shut up for one moment.”
If not for the Red Chalice's blessing, he’d already have succumbed to shock. The blood loss had sapped his strength, and the creeping cold of hypovolemia was worse than the pain itself.
But there was no time to rest.
The sound of the cannon had attracted the orcs, who began charging toward the chaos, believing the battle had started. Sporadic skirmishes erupted, throwing both sides into disarray.
“Who fired the damn cannon?!”
“It’s the enemy! Counterattack!”
The orc army, like the Dawn Army, was caught off guard. Somewhere in their ranks, a centurion would soon pay for recklessly firing the first shot, but the blame no longer mattered. What began as isolated clashes quickly escalated into a full-scale battle.
“Which idiot did this?!”
Atlan roared from a distance, his towering figure trembling with rage.
He, too, had intended to hold back and wait for the Dawn Army and the Immortal Order to weaken each other. But Feltren’s unexpected retreat had thrown everything into chaos.
Atlan’s frustration grew as he saw nearly a third of the Dawn Army’s infantry spilling out of their positions, heading straight into the orc ambush.
“How did our scouts miss such a massive movement of troops?!”
“They were watching, my Khan, but they didn’t expect the army to retreat through the canyons!”
It wasn’t the scouts’ fault. Feltren had deliberately avoided conventional routes to evade the angels’ attention, leading his forces through a narrow, poorly monitored canyon.
Atlan had misjudged. He assumed no one would pull back so drastically or in such an unconventional direction.
But now, Atlan believed the Dawn Army’s leadership had decided to turn against him.
“So they think they can stop us now, after letting us loot Ushak? Do they really think they can survive a two-front war? Grind their skulls into the dirt!”
Atlan’s command rippled through his army like wildfire.
The orcs, already clashing sporadically with the retreating soldiers, now surged forward with focused aggression.
“Waaaargh!”
“Damn it, Dawn Army! Kill these savages! If we don’t break through, we’re dead!”
Faced with the orc onslaught, Feltren’s disorganized troops had no choice but to halt their retreat and fight back. Soldiers who had been stumbling away turned to raise their spears and swords against the charging orcs.
BOOOOM!
The battle descended into pure chaos. Neither side had prepared for this fight, and their formations crumbled instantly. Orc cavalry trampled through scattered infantry, only to be felled by spears. Imperial Knights tried to rally small groups of soldiers to punch through, but many were blown apart by orc artillery.
The battlefield became a swirling mess of blood and bodies, with little distinction between friend and foe.
Feltren, watching from a distance, grimaced.
It’s over.
He knew the retreating Dawn Army had already lost. Apart from the Imperial Knights, the average soldier was no match for the mounted orcs. And the priests, who might have turned the tide, were already dead—killed by his own hand.
Meanwhile, the orcs still had their shaman generals and ancestral spirits bolstering their ranks.
“Commander! We have to retreat! The losses are too great!”
One of his knights urged him to flee, but Feltren’s mind raced bitterly.
Retreat where? Through the corpses of the priests we killed?
He couldn’t help but sneer at the irony. His plan to weaken the Dawn Army had succeeded, but now his forces were being obliterated by an ally.
The absurdity of the situation made him want to laugh.
But before the laughter could escape his lips, a blinding flash lit up the sky.
KABOOOOM!
A searing arc of light cleaved through the battlefield, indiscriminately cutting down soldiers and orcs alike. Feltren froze as the head of the knight supporting him rolled to the ground, his body crumpling in a lifeless heap.
If Feltren hadn’t ducked at the last second, he’d have been bisected as well.
Looking up, he saw her: the Sword of May, floating above the battlefield.
Her radiant wings and blazing swords filled the sky, her presence commanding awe and terror.
Why is she here?
Feltren struggled to understand. Was she here to save him? To punish him?
But the Sword of May hadn’t come for Feltren.
She descended to the battlefield for one reason: to prevent the Dawn Army’s forces from being wiped out.
The angels relied on the strength and faith of their followers. Losing such a significant portion of the army would diminish their power—and jeopardize the campaign.
“Sword of May!”
A booming voice roared from across the battlefield.
Atlan, towering atop his war mount, aimed his massive weapon, Hwangcheon, directly at the archangel.
“You shine brightly, little star! How much is your body worth, I wonder?!”
He drew back the colossal bowstring of Hwangcheon, his muscles bulging with power.
When he loosed the arrow, time seemed to freeze.
The projectile tore through the sky, grazing the Sword of May’s wing and leaving a deep gash in its radiant feathers. The arrow continued upward, shattering the air and leaving a deafening silence in its wake.
A moment later, the shockwave struck, accompanied by a sound like the heavens themselves splitting apart.
The blast sent nearby soldiers and orcs reeling, some collapsing with burst eardrums.
Both Atlan and the Sword of May locked eyes, acknowledging each other as formidable opponents.
Their battle began in earnest, a clash of titans that shook the battlefield.
But Feltren had no interest in their duel.
Where is the Immortal Emperor?
The thought gnawed at him. He knew the Burning Maiden couldn’t handle the Emperor alone.
Turning back toward Holy Land Lua, Feltren’s heart sank.
What he saw dredged up memories of Lichtheim, the trauma of that catastrophic battle flooding his mind.
***
“What... what is this chaos?”
Tuahlin groaned as he set eyes on the chaos surrounding Holy Land Lua. Isaac, standing beside him, couldn’t find the words to respond—his thoughts mirrored Tuahlin’s bewilderment.
The immense dome of Holy Land Lua trembled under the Immortal Emperor's rising power, while the Dawn Army and their celestial angels assaulted its walls. On the other side, nightmarish monsters born of the Nameless Chaos gnawed at the fortress like frenzied beasts. Meanwhile, inexplicably, a portion of the Dawn Army had splintered off, clashing with the Olkan Code's forces in a frenzied skirmish nearby.
It was impossible to discern any coherent front line.
What is this? How did the battlefield become this chaotic, this mindless? Have they all lost their sanity at the doorstep of Lua?
Just two days ago, Isaac had learned from Ciero that the Dawn Army had somehow broken through Ushak and was advancing on Holy Land Lua. He had dismissed it as an exaggeration—how could the impenetrable capital of the Immortal Order fall so quickly?
He had underestimated their desperation.
Isaac’s plan had been simple: seize the holy site before the Dawn Army could. His troops had traveled by sea, bypassing much of the landlocked resistance. In theory, there was no way the lumbering Dawn Army could have reached Holy Land Lua before him.
But here they were.
The monstrous scale of their advance made the impossible seem plausible.
Isaac’s mind raced, piecing together an explanation. Did the chaos I unleashed at Lua allow this?
The onslaught of Nameless Chaos creatures on Holy Land Lua may have forced the Immortal Emperor to recall his forces, leaving Ushak exposed to the opportunistic Dawn Army. If that were true, Isaac realized he might have inadvertently handed the Dawn Army their victory.
Still, there was no time for regret.
The battlefield was already a swirling maelstrom of violence and desperation. As Isaac prepared to enter the fray, Edelred and Tuahlin stood back, their expressions uneasy.
“...Wouldn’t it be smarter to wait for them to tire each other out?” Tuahlin muttered hesitantly.
Edelred didn’t argue.
Charging into a battlefield this chaotic was sheer madness. It was difficult enough to tell friend from foe—an orc, an undead, a monster—anything could kill you. The collateral damage alone would be catastrophic.
But Isaac felt a growing sense of urgency.
Why are the angels rushing?
He didn’t know why, but he could sense their panic. They weren’t fighting with their usual divine patience. It was as if they feared something—something that would arrive soon if they didn’t take the holy site first.
“It” is coming.
A voice echoed in Isaac’s mind:
[The Nameless Chaos watches over you.]
Isaac’s eyes widened.
Am I “it”?
The thought chilled him. The angels seemed intent on concluding the battle before Isaac reached Lua.
Perhaps their plans for him had changed. They had supported him thus far, but after Isaac’s destruction of two Archangels, perhaps they saw no further use for him.
Or perhaps…
They feared him now.
That thought spurred him into motion.
Isaac unsheathed Kaldwin in one smooth motion. Tuahlin called out to him, alarmed by his sudden determination, but Isaac pressed on, undeterred.
“Isaac, wait—”
A voice interrupted them.
“Holy Grail Knight!”
Isaac reined in his horse, his eyes narrowing as a woman stepped into view. Flanked by members of her trading company, Leonora greeted him with a sly smile.
***
Isaac dismounted and fixed Leonora with a skeptical gaze.
“Are you so sturdy that you don’t mind being trampled by a horse?” he asked dryly.
Leonora shrugged, her expression unapologetic.
“I was shouting and waving my arms all the way here. If I’d gotten run over, that would’ve been your fault, not mine.”
Isaac suppressed a sigh, his patience wearing thin.
“What do you want? Didn’t you have business in Ushak?”
“Of course. And it went quite well.”
Leonora cast a glance at the chaos surrounding Holy Land Lua.
“But surely you’re not thinking of charging into… that, are you?”
Isaac’s grip on Kaldwin tightened.
“I came here to take Lua. If that means fighting, then yes.”
Leonora’s smile widened.
“No need for all that fighting. I’ve discovered a secret passage into Lua. We can slip in unnoticed.”
Isaac didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied Leonora carefully, his mind racing.
He hadn’t forgotten her true goal: Midas’s Hand.
“Did you find it?” he asked sharply.
Leonora chuckled softly.
“The Immortal Emperor says he’ll hand it over if I can stop you.”
Isaac’s lips curled into a bitter smile.
“Betrayal, is it?”
“Betrayal? Hardly.” Leonora’s voice was smooth, her demeanor unshaken.
“Midas’s Hand belongs to the Golden Idol Trading Company. Calling it a ‘retrieval’ would be more accurate, wouldn’t you agree?”
It was rare to find someone who could lie and betray so brazenly, especially in the face of a god.
Leonora was one of those rare individuals.
But Isaac knew better than to trust her entirely.
Before Isaac could reply, a searing light split the heavens.
It was as if a second sun had risen in the sky. The battlefield fell silent, every eye turning upward.
Six brilliant lighthouses materialized, their surfaces etched with incomprehensible patterns. At their center, wings began to unfurl—one by one, radiant feathers glowing with impossible brilliance.
The sky turned pitch black, as if every ounce of light had been swallowed to fuel this arrival.
Only the celestial figure remained illuminated, its presence undeniable.
Soldiers fell to their knees, shielding their eyes as tears streamed down their faces. Some whispered prayers; others could only gape in awe.
Isaac stood frozen, his body recalling the terror of Lichtheim, when he’d faced such power before.
But this time…
It was different.
He could see it.
He could see the intricate patterns on the six lighthouses. He could count the sixteen radiant wings. He could even look into the shifting void where its face should be.
It no longer seemed so incomprehensible.
“The Lighthouse Keeper,” Isaac murmured, his voice barely audible.