Chapter 254
“Repenheim… Such a fine name… But there’s no way to persuade him…”
Muttering to himself, Karl resumed walking. Having shown everything in the city, it was now time for the royal palace.
“The exterior of the palace is complete, but there’s still much work to be done inside. Still, you should be able to get a general grasp of it.”
Just as they were about to head toward the palace—
From a distance, a messenger came galloping furiously on horseback, heading straight for Karl.
“Chancellor! Urgent news from Zarud!”
Zarud was a major trading city of the Duchy of Antares. Karl’s expression turned serious as he asked,
“What happened?”
The messenger swiftly pulled a letter from his coat.
“A message from the Mage Tower!”
The Dwarven Mage Battalion, trained in magic under Repenhardt, was a slow-moving race by nature. However, having an exceptional teacher had gradually pushed them to the level of 4th Circle official mages.
Karl had stationed the Dwarven Mage Battalion at strategic points in the duchy and established Mage Towers to set up a magical communication network. Their skills were still rudimentary, only capable of transmitting a few letters at a time. Even so, it was enough for urgent reports, making it an invaluable asset.
Karl’s expression hardened as he read the letter.
Repenhardt asked, “What is it?”
Karl handed him the letter. The moment Repenhardt unfolded the paper, his expression stiffened as well.
The message was composed of just a few simple words. Yet, their meaning was anything but simple.
— Zarud attacked.
* * *
Repenhardt and Siris rode with relentless urgency. The horses they rode were among the finest steeds handpicked by Karl, yet after galloping without rest, their bodies were drenched in sweat as if they had been caught in a downpour.
Still, Repenhardt did not slow down.
That was how urgent the situation was.
‘Where is the attack coming from? The Vasily Kingdom? Or the Basutalon Empire?’
Zarud, being near the Vasily Kingdom, made them the most likely suspect. However, Vasily had shown no signs of dissatisfaction with the Duchy of Antares’ presence. That left the Basutalon Empire as another strong possibility.
‘But there’s no way the empire could move its army through Vasily’s territory…’
His mind was racing.
The message from the Mage Tower had been too brief to provide any details. He needed to reach the trade city of Zarud as soon as possible and assess the situation firsthand.
"Hyah!"
Repenhardt spurred his horse, urging it to go even faster.
As he and Siris galloped forward, a massive saber tiger with enormous fangs ran alongside them, keeping pace.
This beast, covered in blue fur and adorned with intricate markings, was none other than Attila, transformed through troll shamanism. Guru’s teachings forbade riding on the back of a living creature unless one was gravely injured and unable to move.
On the opposite side, Iniya kept up, riding a silver-white stag that shimmered like moonlight.
However, it was not a living stag, it was a type of spirit beast conjured by materializing her aura. Unlike Attila’s transformation, this wasn’t a forbidden technique, but since Iniya didn’t know how to ride a regular horse, she opted for her usual mode of transportation.
Karl, Sillan, and Titima had remained behind in Aranan Grad. Their speed wouldn’t be able to match the others, so they planned to gather reinforcements and follow later.
Racing forward with unwavering focus, they crested a hill. As they did, the forest abruptly ended, revealing the trade city of Zarud in the distance.
Siris frowned.
"This is unbelievable…."
A portion of Zarud’s outer walls had been reduced to ruins, destroyed so thoroughly it was horrifying. The city gates, too, had been completely shattered.
Attila let out a low groan.
"It's clear the city was attacked."
Increasing their speed, the four of them charged toward Zarud. As they neared the broken gates, fallen guards and knights lay bleeding on the ground.
Repenhardt’s expression hardened even further.
"Damn it…."
Upon entering the city, Repenhardt and Siris immediately dismounted. There was no telling when another attack might come, so they couldn’t afford to remain on horseback. Iniya dismissed her spirit beast, and Attila reverted to his troll form.
The four of them cautiously advanced into the city, maintaining their vigilance.
Surprisingly, despite the shattered gates and ruined walls, there were few signs of destruction within. The streets appeared almost untouched, looking just as they did on any ordinary day.
Siris furrowed her brows.
"I don’t see any enemies."
Not only were there no visible enemies, but there was no indication that an army had rampaged through the city either.
Iniya nodded in agreement.
"Indeed. If an army had passed through, it would have left far more evidence."
Still, the atmosphere was undeniably tense. Most of the citizens had barricaded themselves indoors, their expressions full of fear as they peeked out through cracks in their windows.
And yet… the city walls and gates had undoubtedly been destroyed.
"Hmm… Just what the hell happened here…?"
Their questions were answered the moment they arrived at Zarud City Hall, the massive structure at the heart of Zarud.
Standing four stories tall and sprawling in size to rival that of a small castle, Zarud City Hall was undeniably the largest building in the city.
And now, it had been cleanly sliced in half.
It wasn’t collapsed or crumbled. No, like a birthday cake cut with a knife, the building had been split perfectly down the middle. This wasn’t something that could happen without an earthquake.
But one thing was certain, it wasn’t a natural disaster. The exposed cross-section of the building was smooth and polished, far too clean for any natural destruction.
Attila muttered in disbelief.
“What in the world…?”
Iniya’s voice turned cold.
“It was aura.”
Even magic wouldn’t be able to produce such a precise cutting force. The only thing capable of leaving such a clean slice was Blade Aura.
‘But who in the world could have done this?’
Even Gym Unbreakable, whose destructive power was renowned, might have been able to bring down an entire building, but to cut it so cleanly in half? That was an entirely different feat.
Still baffled, the group stepped inside the city hall.
Corpses of soldiers and knights littered the halls. Among them was Peyron, the city's administrator and mayor.
Repenhardt let out a low groan.
“He’s dead too… He was quite capable…”
In truth, Repenhardt hadn’t known the man well. The duchy’s administrators all worked under Karl’s direction, so the only time he had met Peyron was at his inauguration. Likewise, most of the knights and soldiers stationed here were unfamiliar to him, as he hadn’t personally appointed them.
Even so, they were his subordinates, people under his rule. A burning rage welled up within him.
Unconsciously, Repenhardt slammed his fist into the ground.
“Who?! Who the hell did this?!”
BOOM!
The half-destroyed city hall trembled, as if shaken by an earthquake.
At that moment, a weak voice came from one side.
“F-Fist King…”
A small-statured human woman had been hiding between the collapsed pillars.
Siris swiftly ran over and helped her up.
“Who are you?”
“I… I am Lillian, Lord Peyron’s handmaiden.”
Repenhardt immediately pressed her for answers.
“What exactly happened here?”
“T-that is…”
Stammering, Lillian began to explain.
“I don’t know the details. There was a sudden explosion, and the knights rushed out, telling me to stay hidden… But I did see those responsible. It was an old man and ten knights. Their swords were glowing with light. I think… it might have been the aura I’ve only heard about….”
Repenhardt and Siris exchanged disbelieving looks.
“An old man and ten knights?”
“And they were all Aura Users?”
Lillian suddenly gasped, as if remembering something, and gestured toward a nearby wall.
“Oh! That old man… I saw him doing something with Blade Aura over there. And then… they all left the city.”
The group’s gazes instantly followed the direction of her pointing finger.
There, carved into the outer wall of city hall, was a massive set of markings. It was so large that they hadn’t noticed it at first, but once they focused, they could clearly see what it was.
Someone had engraved a message into the wall using Blade Aura.
> To strike down the wicked heretic king, we raise our swords.
> In the name of Seiya, we deliver divine punishment upon this land.
— Banatel
Repenhardt’s face turned pale.
Banatel… That name was not unfamiliar. He was a Sword Star, one of the greatest swordmasters of this era, a warrior who stood alongside his own master, Gerard, as a legend.
Leaping to his feet, Repenhardt shouted as if in a scream.
“Damn it! The White King’s Castle is in danger!”
* * *
Flash!
A brilliant streak of light slashed across the outer walls of Antares’ White King’s Castle.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The entire fortress trembled as an ear-shattering explosion echoed throughout the stronghold.
“W-what is happening?!”
A young man in his twenties with jet-black hair came running through the hall.
He was Sir Azrael von Kato, the current commander of the Antares Knights, responsible for the defense of the White King’s Castle.
Just moments ago, he had been in his chamber, diligently carrying out his duties as a commander. Holding such a position wasn’t merely about possessing exceptional swordsmanship or combat ability. He was also responsible for training schedules, overseeing the castle’s defenses, and managing the squires, stable hands, and attendants who served under the knights.
That was why he had been sitting at his desk, meticulously working through calculations and paperwork.
Then, all of a sudden, a deafening thunderclap-like explosion had shaken the ground beneath him.
“Commander Azrael!”
A burly, middle-aged knight hurried to his side.
It was Sir Hunt, the vice-commander of the Antares Knights.
Azrael turned sharply.
“Oh, Sir Hunt!”
As Azrael approached, he asked Sir Hunt a question. Unlike in other nations, whenever chaos erupted within White King’s Castle, the first suspects were rarely external enemies.
“Could it be that Sir Russ and Sir Tassid got too carried away again?”
From behind him came indignant protests.
“It wasn’t us!”
“Yeah! That’s unfair!”
It was Russ and Tassid. Both had been attending to their duties when they felt the tremors and had rushed outside in surprise.
Azrael’s expression hardened. If it wasn’t those two, then what the hell was happening?
Russ, gazing toward the source of the explosion, spoke in a grave tone.
“It’s clear. This is the presence of aura.”
Tassid nodded in agreement.
“Yes. And it’s a type of Debata I’ve never encountered before.”
Just then, a panting guard came running toward them, shouting.
“We’re under attack, Commander!”
Azrael clicked his tongue.
“Damn it… And of all times, when His Majesty is away…”
Quickly equipping their weapons, Azrael, Russ, Tassid, and Hunt rushed toward the section of the fortress where the explosion had occurred, their expressions grim.
By the time they arrived, the Antares Knights and the castle guards had already gathered, forming a defensive line. Some were pulling wounded soldiers from beneath the fallen rubble, while others had climbed onto the half-destroyed outer wall, looking outward.
The moment Russ saw the state of the fortress wall, his jaw dropped.
“What… What the hell is this?”
The wall hadn’t simply collapsed. The shattered pieces lay scattered across the ground, and the cut surfaces were unnaturally smooth and polished.
As an Aura User, Russ immediately recognized what had caused it.
This was the work of Blade Aura. And it had been done with a single strike.
Tassid muttered in disbelief.
“…They cut this down in one swing?”
The clean cut stretched for tens of meters. Even Kalken, the greatest orc warrior of the Blue Bear Tribe, wouldn’t have been able to accomplish something like this, even at full strength.
The four of them quickly climbed to the top of the wall.
Beyond White King’s Castle, on the vast hill leading into the forest, a small group of figures stood.
It consisted of ten knights and roughly thirty soldiers.
And at the front stood a distinguished old man with a magnificent white beard, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazed toward them.
Azrael frowned in confusion.
“Who are they?”
A force barely over forty men, far too few to be considered an actual threat to White King’s Castle.
But Russ and Tassid weren’t as relaxed as Azrael. They couldn’t afford to be.
“Uh… Russ… Those guys in full plate armor… I think they’re all warriors.”
“You’re right, Tassid… How in the world are there so many Aura Users outside White King’s Castle…?”
Both men looked down and felt a chill run through them.
The knights below weren’t even trying to conceal their strength. Though they weren’t openly releasing their aura, the sheer, contained force within them was so overwhelming that it radiated across a distance of over a hundred meters, making its presence unmistakable.
And then, standing at their forefront, who was that old man?
Tassid trembled as he muttered.
“What kind of monster is that? How can a human possess such a Debata…?”
He was merely standing there with his hands clasped behind his back, yet just looking at him was enough to send shivers down their spines. A cold sweat ran down their backs.
He was strong, unimaginably strong. Even Russ, who had encountered many powerful Aura Users, was utterly stunned.
Azrael swallowed hard and leaned over the fortress wall. Raising his voice, he called out.
“Who are you? Declare your name, for you stand against Antares as an enemy!”
The old man slowly parted his lips.
“I am Banatel of Basutalon. I have come here in accordance with Seiya’s will…”
His voice wasn’t particularly loud, if anything, it seemed like he was just murmuring. Yet, somehow, his words echoed through the entire White King’s Castle.
The knights turned pale with fear. Some of the soldiers, overwhelmed by the sheer force of his presence, fell to their knees without even realizing it.
“Huk…!”
“Ughhh….”
A voice alone shouldn’t be able to make people collapse in terror, yet his words carried an absolute power that shattered the weak-hearted.
Even Russ, Azrael, and Sir Hunt, men of strong will felt the same fear. They resisted the oppressive force in his voice, but they couldn’t ignore the sheer weight of its meaning.
Azrael, his face drained of color, muttered in disbelief.
“That… That’s really Sword Star Banatel…?”
The old man continued his proclamation in a leisurely yet authoritative tone.
“I call upon the White King of Antares! Appear at once, kneel before Seiya’s name, and confess your sins!”