Chapter 559
The Fight Starts Now. (1)
"Ahhhhhh!"
"Please, spare me!"
"Just my life, I beg you…."
Massacres unfolded day after day in the capital of the Kingdom of Grimwell. In this slaughter, status and the gravity of one's crimes held no meaning.
Everyone without exception was dragged away and killed. Some tried to gather people to resist, but they were no match for the Salvation Church.
The capital’s plaza was drenched in blood. So much had been spilled that it resembled a flood, and the soldiers’ ankles were perpetually submerged in it.
At the center of this Plaza of Blood stood a small pedestal, and atop it rested a single, unassuming bracelet.
By the time not even a single animal remained in the capital, Gartros summoned all the priests and gave his command.
"Begin the ritual."
Dozens of priests gathered and began chanting the Salvation Church’s scripture.
—Gooooooh…—
A sinister energy emanated from the magic circle, hungrily drawing in the surrounding blood.
The magic circle, greedily devouring the blood, soon gleamed a vivid red. Slowly, the blood slithered up the pedestal where the bracelet lay.
The blood, having reached the pedestal, began to seep into the bracelet.
Gartros watched the scene with tense eyes.
‘Please….’
If that bracelet was not a relic, it would be tainted red, becoming another cursed object like the Orb of Life.
They hadn't gone through all this effort just to create another one of those accursed artifacts. It wasn’t worth the cost.
But if it truly was a relic…
—Paaaah!—
Suddenly, an overwhelming burst of light erupted from the bracelet.
It was the same radiance he had seen in Ritania. The divine power hidden within the bracelet repelled the magic circle's energy. The blood that had been seeping in now writhed and trembled, unable to penetrate further.
A power capable of consuming even most relics in an instant yet this object resisted.
Gartros shot to his feet.
"Ha… Hahaha… Hahahahaha!"
He laughed like a madman.
They had found it.
The relic he had longed for over countless years was finally in his grasp.
The sacrifices, the failures it had all been worth it.
The light stretched endlessly in all directions, as if proclaiming its existence to the entire world.
Gartros gazed upon it and shouted at the top of his lungs.
"O, King! O, King! Feel this light! We long for the day we finally meet!"
Their King undoubtedly existed somewhere in this world. It was a promise, a prophecy.
And awakening their King to his mission was also the church’s duty.
To restore the King’s memories, they needed the relic.
"Dispel the energy! At once!"
As the priests ceased their chants, the power of the magic circle slowly began to subside.
The blood that had been creeping up the pedestal sloughed off, and the brilliant light emanating from the relic gradually dimmed.
Gartros carefully fastened the bracelet around his wrist, gazing at it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
Watching from a short distance away, Aiden shook his head.
“Ugh, disgusting.”
The stench of blood, the sticky humidity, the plaza soaked to the brim with crimson.
To him, there was nothing remotely artistic about this.
He didn’t particularly dislike blood, but this wasn’t a stage meant for glorifying him. There was no reason to find such an unsightly mess appealing.
Truthfully, Aiden had no real interest in that fanatic religion, nor could he relate to it.
Of course, on the surface, he pretended to be a devout follower of the Salvation Church.
Aiden shrugged and turned to Leonard, the Revolutionary Group Leader, who stood beside him with his arms crossed.
“What do you think? First time seeing a ritual like this? It’s filthy, sure, but fascinating in its own way, isn’t it?”
“……”
“Well, it’s hard to understand the first time. Just think of it as their kind of ritual. No need to put too much thought into it.”
“……Yeah.”
Leonard gave a short reply and ended the conversation.
Truthfully, his mind was too preoccupied to pay proper attention to the ritual.
After his failed ambush operation, he had been humiliated. No one openly spoke about it, but the atmosphere made it clear.
As if questioning why he had gone after the Duke of Fenris alone and only ended up losing his forces.
‘Damn it….’
He had no choice but to admit it. He had been thoroughly outplayed.
It was as if the Duke of Fenris had peered straight into his mind and stolen all his plans.
But what weighed on him even more than that—
‘Julien.’
A warrior who wielded techniques beyond imagination.
Even now, he couldn’t comprehend how such abilities were even possible.
Leonard had always considered himself one of the greatest superhumans on the continent.
He had believed that, in a one-on-one fight, he could hold his own against anyone.
But that belief shattered when he encountered Julien.
Leonard let out a quiet breath.
‘This side is certainly strong, but….’
There were countless superhumans here. The Atrodean Army was incredibly powerful. His own Revolutionary Group had joined them as well.
By all accounts, they could be called the strongest force on the continent.
No matter how large the Allied Army grew, he had been certain they would never be a match.
At least, that was how he had felt at first.
He had been confident in their victory.
The Duke of Fenris. Julien….
That was before he faced those two.
Both had far surpassed their reputations.
What was even more unsettling he still hadn’t fully grasped the extent of their abilities.
Leonard turned his gaze toward Gartros.
The man was still standing in the Plaza of Blood, mesmerized, staring at the bracelet on his wrist as if nothing else in the world existed.
‘So, the world really is going to hell. It’s full of lunatics.’
All he had wanted was to have a kingdom of his own.
To fulfill that desire, he had no choice but to join hands with the Salvation Church.
And yet, despite their overwhelming power, the Salvation Church had squandered a significant portion of their forces on an unfavorable strategy just to search for their so-called King.
‘Is this really a war to find a single person? Shouldn’t that be done after the war is won?’
Leonard couldn’t understand it.
And that King they were looking for wasn’t even a conventional ruler he was a religious leader.
During his time with them, Leonard had also come to learn something else.
The Salvation Church had another name for their King:
The Adversary of the Goddess[a].
‘It means they plan to fight against the Goddess herself.’
Leonard shook his head.
They hadn’t even conquered the continent yet, and they were already harboring the arrogant notion of waging war against a deity.
From the way they acted, it seemed as though there was some truth to their beliefs but for now, it was nothing more than a delusional fantasy.
Still, since he had chosen to ally with them, he had no choice but to fight against the Allied Army no matter how unfavorable the odds.
Right now, only one thought occupied the majority of his mind.
‘Julien.’
The only thing he was concerned with was figuring out how to kill that monster.
* * *
“Waaaaaaah! We won!”
The Allied Army, led by Julien, had successfully seized an Atrodean fortress and erupted into cheers.
It had been an overwhelmingly easy victory.
The enemy was weak, and on their side, they had an absolute powerhouse Julien.
As the soldiers tended to the wounded and cleaned up the battlefield, Julien stood silently, observing.
Then, all of a sudden—
“Hm.”
An indescribable presence enveloped him.
The energy was so distinct and intense that he could feel it clearly.
Slowly, Julien turned his head in the direction it was coming from.
And there—
—Rustle.
—Scratch, scratch.
A group of people stood surrounding him, furiously sketching on their canvases.
“……”
They were Claude’s men sent by the Chief Overseer of the Ritania Army.
Ever since the Allied Army had been formed, they had been following Julien around, drawing him constantly.
At first, he had thought nothing of it.
They called themselves war historians, and it was common for record-keepers to accompany armies to document battles.
But they were far too obsessed.
Initially, he had ignored them.
But as time went on, their blatant fixation on him became too obvious to disregard.
“…Is that really necessary?”
Julien rarely spoke, but when he did, one of the artists answered, his face full of emotion.
“Y-Yes! We have been given the honor of recording every detail of Julien-nim ah, no! I mean, of this war! So we cannot afford to be negligent for even a moment!”
“……”
Hearing the artist’s response, Julien simply closed his mouth.
They claimed they were documenting the war.
But the truth was, they were only drawing him.
Nothing else.
Julien turned to the other side. The dispatched scribes were diligently writing about him.
It had seemed so odd that Marquis Gideon, who led the Turian army, once called in the "lead scribe" to confirm something.
— No, but why does it matter what Sir Julien ate today?
— To ensure that Sir Julien is maintaining a balanced diet...
— And why is that your concern?
— Because Sir Julien is an important person...
— Then why do you take the things he discards?
— We have taken the initiative to reduce waste and protect the environment...
— And why are you recording how many times he brushes his hair back?
— That is to document Sir Julien’s "magnificence"…
— …
— …
At this point, neither side had anything more to say.
In any case, the scribes were that passionate. Not that anyone knew what any of it had to do with war records.
It was highly suspicious, but Marquis Gideon couldn’t exactly tell them to stop.
‘Ha, seriously... all because of that bastard Claude...’
Since the self-proclaimed second-in-command of the Ritania army had ordered it, it was difficult for Gideon to put a stop to it on his own.
Besides, none of it was particularly sensitive information. It was just an endless stream of praise and stories about Julien.
Julien himself didn’t care, but his popularity had skyrocketed to an unimaginable level.
A forsaken prince with a tragic backstory, elegant and dignified movements, a face sculpted by the gods, an air of mystery—
And to top it all off, his unbelievable martial prowess.
Regardless of age or gender, people were ecstatic just to hear stories about him. Many dreamed of seeing him even once.
It was understandable. The world was undergoing a massive upheaval, largely due to Julien and Ghislain.
And Claude once again demonstrated his business acumen.
— You know, we’ve done this before. It’s profitable.
Portraits of Julien, his personal details, and even the items he used were flying off the shelves under Claude’s management.
But since they were in the middle of a war, no one had the bandwidth to pay attention to such things.
Having once been caught by Ghislain and failed, Claude had now modeled his operations after the Salvation Church and the Revolutionary Group, running things even more discreetly in a decentralized network.
Thus, Julien continued advancing with his so-called scribes in tow.
Unlike the Ritania army, which had the overwhelming firepower to execute Operation Meteor, his force relied on his sheer, absurd strength to carry out different strategies.
“Fire!”
Boom! Boom! Boom!
At Marquis Gideon's command, the allied forces launched a relentless barrage of stones with their catapults.
However, they lacked the numbers to completely bring down the fortress. At best, they could only suppress and harass the soldiers atop the walls.
Even so, the Turian army had the advantage. The Atrodean army lacked mages and had no way to counter magic attacks.
Boom! Boom! Booooom!
Under the combined assault of projectiles and magic, the fortress defenders suffered heavy losses, yet the Atrodean soldiers abandoned their magic suppression efforts and fought back with all their might.
Given more time, the Turian army could take the fortress with minimal casualties. That was how overwhelming the power gap was.
But Julien had no intention of dragging things out. More time didn’t mean zero casualties, after all.
“I’m going now.”
Once the enemy numbers atop the walls had sufficiently dwindled, Julien charged forward alone. A fully armed contingent of knights immediately followed in his wake.
Seeing the approaching figures, the fortress commander shouted.
“Kill them!”
Whoosh!
Arrows rained down from above. But soon, the fortress defenders found themselves witnessing an impossible sight.
“W-What is that?”
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The knights behind Julien raised their shields, blocking and deflecting the arrows. Some simply relied on their armor to absorb the impact. It was nothing unusual in war.
But the one at the very front—
Tuk. Thud. Thud.
The arrows flying toward him suddenly veered off course, embedding themselves into the ground.
He was merely running forward, doing absolutely nothing yet the arrows avoided him of their own accord.
Most superhuman warriors destroyed or deflected projectiles with sheer power. Many preferred dodging since blocking, even minimally, consumed mana.
But this man did nothing, and the arrows simply refused to touch him.
“W-What the hell is that?!”
The fortress defenders, thrown into utter confusion, stopped attacking altogether.
Instead, they simply gawked at the advancing figure, stunned into silence.
Julien reached the gates of the fortress and unsheathed his sword.
A blue light shimmered along the blade, its brilliance far more dazzling than usual. A clear sign that he was pouring an immense amount of energy into his strike.
Without hesitation, Julien swung his sword at the massive gate blocking his path.
Slash!
Rumble!
The fortress gate split cleanly in half and crumbled.
[a]goddesses?