Chapter 162: The Real and the Fake (2)

The battle that would determine the direction of the war unfolded in the skies above the Varehein Fortress.

But that wasn’t the only place where fighting raged.

The moment the strongest warriors of the Adalbert family joined the fray, the tide of battle immediately turned in favor of the Altaria Empire.

At the heart of it stood Vincent von Igreet.

“Haaap!”

With a fierce shout, Vincent swung his greatsword. Opposing him, a dwarven warrior raised his axe to block.

Boom!

The aura blades entwined around their weapons clashed, sending a formless shockwave rippling outwards, sweeping away everything on the ground.

“Kahaha! A foe worthy of marking my final moments! Come on, human warrior! Show me more strength so this old man can die content!”

Each time the dwarf swung his axe, more wrinkles appeared on his face, and his hair turned increasingly white—a clear sign that he was burning through his life force.

“I’ll do my best to meet your expectations,” Vincent replied calmly, focusing on wielding his greatsword with precision.

Though they were both 8-circle warriors, his opponent was using even his life force. A single mistake could cost Vincent his life, so he needed to remain fully concentrated.

Boom!

The axe came crashing down fiercely, aiming to devour Vincent.

While Vincent managed to block it, the fight continued to tilt against him for a while.

But the disadvantage didn’t last long.

The dwarf warrior’s life force soon reached its limit.

Slash!

The aura-bladed sword cleaved through the dwarf from his right shoulder to his left waist in one clean motion.

Thud.

The dwarf warrior fell to his knees. Blood streamed not only from his wounds but also from his mouth, staining his white beard red.

“Haha… I suppressed my unique ability as much as I could, yet I still couldn’t win. Vincent von Igreet, great human warrior. Thank you. You’ve allowed me to wield my axe without regrets.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“We will leave this land now, but I hope you’ll get along with those among us who seek peace.”

“You needn’t ask—I already intend to do so.”

“I’m glad to have met someone like you in the end.”

With those words, the dwarf collapsed to the ground.

Vincent looked down at the body with a heavy heart.

When delivering the final blow, he had taken care to minimize the damage to the body.

This is all I can do for him…

Vincent sighed softly, feeling a pang of regret.

Though politics had forced him to take his opponent’s life, he bore no malice toward the elves or dwarves. In fact, he felt sympathy for them.

“If only they had joined the North… it’s such a pity,” Sien said, approaching Vincent and echoing his sentiments.

“They likely knew that wouldn’t be enough to resolve their anger and grievances. By burning everything, they hoped to pave the way for those who remain to walk a new path.”

“They’re enemies, but they deserve respect.”

“Exactly. That’s why I want to grant them peace without suffering.”

Sien nodded at Vincent’s words. Then, her expression hardened as she looked toward the rear of the allied forces.

Though nothing was visible, she knew from Martin’s account who was pulling the strings behind the allied forces.

Whether legitimate or illegitimate, all royals are the same.

She wanted nothing more than to sever their heads in one swift stroke, but she knew it wasn’t possible.

Not because they were royalty, but because it was obvious they would flee from this battlefield.

Her prediction turned out to be correct.

“It’s time to retreat,” Erich Koschnik, the deputy leader of the secret society Cry for Freedom, said.

“Indeed. It’s a good thing we prepared in advance,” Muller Altaria replied with a nod, though his face was filled with regret.

“As expected… experiencing it firsthand is truly painful. The gap between Martin von Adalbert and me is enormous. Is this the difference between a true hero and a false one?”

When they first drafted their plan, they had expected the majority of elves and dwarves to join the allied forces.

They also believed at least some of the 8-circle elders and the 9-circle Great Elder would participate.

But contrary to their expectations, only one elder and one Great Elder had stepped forward, while most strong figures chose to remain neutral.

Even among the warrior class, far fewer participated than anticipated.

This indicated that the new future Martin had demonstrated in the North had gained their trust.

Faced with a different path to a new future, Muller couldn’t help but feel bitter.

“The Duke of Adalbert’s circumstances were undoubtedly dire, but only to a point. With just one unique ability, he’s in a position to claim everything. In contrast, Your Highness possesses a unique ability but has received nothing else.”

“There’s no denying the starting points were different. Still, I sometimes wonder—if I were in the Duke of Adalbert’s position, could I have achieved the same?”

“If it were you, Your Highness, I believe you would have done even better.”

“That’s excessive flattery,” Muller replied with a bitter smile at his comrade’s words.

But he knew well enough.

Even if he escaped today, it wouldn’t be the end.

“Before long, I’ll lose everything. Just like my second brother did.”

Thanks to the Great Elder Marcel, his direct involvement hadn’t been exposed. Yet, Martin would likely suspect his presence.

And once that happened, Martin would come for him.

Considering Martin’s unique ability and his northern forces, escaping his grasp would be nearly impossible.

Muller had no future left.

“Perhaps I should flee to another country…”

“Even as an illegitimate prince, I wouldn’t stoop to such disgraceful measures. Still, I won’t go down without a fight—I’ll give it my all.”

“I’ll stay by your side until the end.”

“Thank you, Erich. Let’s go.”

Muller pulled out an artifact capable of short-distance warping from his pocket and pressed a button.

A white light enveloped him and Erich.

The two were sucked into a distortion in space, but even as they vanished, Muller looked up at the skies above the fortress.

If it’s you, you can bear the weight of a new future.

He knew he lacked the competence to be a true leader.

Still, he thought it wouldn’t hurt to confirm it one last time.

Vwoom.

Muller and Erich disappeared completely.

***

Shaaah!

As the massive trees blossomed with vibrant flowers, a cascade of colorful pollen scattered into the air.

Laced with toxins, hallucinogens, and other harmful substances, it was undoubtedly dangerous.

But none of it affected Martin.

Woong.

With a mere flick of his finger, spatial rifts erupted in various locations.

The black voids exerted a powerful suction, drawing in all the pollen.

“I’ve heard that spatial abilities are almost omnipotent… but this truly defies all logic.”

Marcel gave a bitter smile.

While Irina von Minert, also a 9-circle mage, had succumbed to this attack, Martin was entirely unfazed.

The sheer terror of Spatial Domination became all the more apparent to him.

Still, he wasn’t about to give up.

Shaaak!

The branches that encircled Varehein Fortress stretched out, lunging toward Martin.

Undeterred, Martin swung the holy sword Clariel, unleashing streaks of golden light.

And that wasn’t all.

Fwoosh!

Fiery red flames intertwined with the golden arcs, enhancing their destructive power.

With the holy sword Clariel’s innate strength added to the mix, the mana-infused branches were severed in an instant.

“I always knew the outcome would be my defeat. But at this point… it feels like hitting an impenetrable wall.”

It reminded Marcel of the despair and helplessness he had felt when his path to the 10th circle had been blocked.

But unlike then, Marcel smiled now.

He was comforted knowing that someone strong enough to lead a new future wielded such overwhelming power.

No matter what threats might befall the elves or dwarves, Martin’s strength would surely protect them.

“I am always grateful to the ancestors for bestowing such overwhelming abilities,” Martin remarked calmly.

“Indeed, it is a power worth such gratitude,” Marcel acknowledged.

But the fight was not over yet.

Marcel pushed his mana to its limits, and an even greater number of trees engulfed Varehein Fortress.

These trees grew rapidly, blooming with flowers everywhere.

Boom!

The fortress began to collapse under the weight of the expanding trees, but Marcel paid no heed, focusing entirely on his magic.

Hundreds of flowers gathered radiant light within their petals.

Go.

Shaaak!

Hundreds of beams of light shot toward Martin.

Each beam was as powerful as the breath of a dragon, a testament to the high-level magic Marcel had unleashed.

“Just because I give it my all doesn’t mean I’m destined to win.”

Martin, unfazed by the oncoming beams, drew Clariel in a single, downward stroke.

Although countless golden streaks had rained down until now, this time there was only one—a single golden line.

But within it lay the full essence of the Arelia Swordsmanship he had mastered.

Srrrkkk!

The countless beams collided with the single golden line, and the outcome was decided in that instant.

The golden line erased all the beams of light.

“Gah!”

The forceful cancellation of his spell sent a massive backlash through Marcel, making him vomit blood.

Bright red blood, mixed with fragments of internal organs, testified to the severe internal injuries he had sustained.

Yet, even as his life faded, Marcel didn’t relent. He burned through his remaining life force for one final strike.

But his last effort was in vain.

Thud.

Martin, using Spatial Compression, appeared before Marcel and drove his sword into his chest.

“…At last, I’m paying the price for my sins,” Marcel muttered calmly, feeling his life slip away.

“But I have no regrets. Instead, I feel relieved to have fulfilled my duties.”

“Does this mean you no longer worry about the future of the elves and dwarves?”

“You gave your word, did you not? That you would protect the two races until the end. So… I have no doubts.”

“Your trust is a heavy burden, but as I said before, I will keep my promise. There will be no more discrimination simply because of differing races.”

“Then I can rest easy. The only matter left is Solenne… but she is strong. She’ll endure, even without me.”

“I agree. Oh, and she asked me to deliver a message. She said she loves you and is proud to call you her father.”

Drip.

Tears streamed from Marcel’s eyes at Martin’s words.

“Proud… of me? How undeserving I am of such a sentiment. I’m a pathetic father who failed to save his daughter when she was kidnapped.”

“That was the result of human malice. Great Elder, you have no reason to blame yourself. Solenne wouldn’t want that either.”

“Haha… is that so? Then, please tell her this: I’m sorry for failing as her father, but I always loved her deeply.”

“I will.”

“And… this will be my final request. Lay my body to rest beside the World Tree in our village.”

“Is that all right? While I won’t touch the World Tree, I will have to destroy the village this time.”

“That’s fine. It will be rebuilt one day. I’d like to watch over it, even in death.”

“Understood.”

“I hope no one among my kin ever has to endure the pain I did… ever again.”

With those final words, Marcel rested his head on Martin’s shoulder and breathed his last.

Martin returned the holy sword Clariel to the subspace, then gently embraced the still-warm body.

“This will be the last time meaningless blood is shed.”

It was enough that those blinded by greed paid with their lives.

He would not tolerate any more innocent victims.

“Now, it’s time to hold the culprits accountable.”

As Theodore had done, Martin would not personally kill Muller Altaria. That would only complicate matters.

But leaving it to the Emperor and Richard would suffice.

Both would be shaken, and that alone would make them reflect on their sins.

“It’s not enough, but it’s a start.”

One step at a time. Martin had no doubts he would see it through.