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Chapter 285: Followers of the End (4)

“Cough!” Fermut couldn’t even scream.

His heart, lungs, and ribs were destroyed at the same time. It was fatal, even with the transcendental vitality of a swordmaster. Fermut couldn’t be saved, even if a cardinal found him. Orta was relieved that his fight had been easier than he thought it would be.

The arrogance that closed his eyes and the foolishness that didn’t allow him to use his talent killed him.

The Aura Ability to bend space was an innate talent. Fermut wasn’t even thirty years old, but he was in line to be the next emperor. There was no one who could keep his arrogance in check.

When would a person like this experience adversity or meet an opponent they couldn’t battle? Fermut was clearly strong, but his strength had too many imperfections. The first encounter was one thing, but fighting a seasoned veteran like Orta twice was a different scenario.

If Orta looked at it calmly, it was a well-deserved victory. In just a few seconds, the blood coming from Fermut’s mouth formed a puddle. An ordinary person would’ve died three times already from the blood loss. It was impossible for Fermut to keep fighting, so Orta just needed to wait until his heart stopped beating.

Orta raised a hand in order to mercilessly stop the pain. “I won’t mourn you, but go well.”

The space blade lanced through the air at Fermut’s neck…

Chaaeng!

… and bounced off. Orta grabbed the broken index finger of his right hand as he faced an unbelievable situation. Fermut, who was supposed to be moments away from death, had swung his sword

This is impossible. How could he counterattack with that body!

The very next moment, Orta saw it.

“Grrr... Kuhu... Kuaaaaah!”

The blood vessels on his face and body swelled up, as the round hole where Fermut’s heart used to be was filled with chunks of flesh. It was too horrible to call it a human heart. Black blood flowed like tar, while his eyes turned black and unfocused. An unknown aura was filling Fermut’s dead body, a power that was hostile to all life!

Orta’s eyes widened as he identified the origin, “Don’t tell me... An ancient magic sword?!”

It was on a different level from the magic swords that were often traded. Orta felt alien power overflowing from the prince’s sword and started sweating anxiously. This was clearly a magic sword that had the power of a demon infused in it.

However, unlike the god sword, demons didn’t use their swords directly. Their swords were used for the degeneration and destruction of other species. At first, it simply lent its strength, but now it dominated its master. It was so formidable that there were still idiots who tried to obtain magic swords from the Age of Mythology.

However, why would the crown prince be carrying a magic sword like this?

“Hmph, I don’t intend to just watch!”

If Orta just let things be, Fermut would completely revive. Sensing a crisis, Orta moved his hands at a dazzling speed, forming thirteen magic circles. Unlike his usual magic, it was a series of spells focused on lethal force.

Elimination Sphere. Downsizing. Wedge of Ruin.

The black sphere that had once destroyed a gate emerged as a few small spheres. The spell would destroy matter on contact, and Orta didn’t hesitate to send all of them flying at Fermut’s unprotected vital spots!

“Kuaaaaaack!” Fermut lost his temper.

Space refraction blocked some of the magic spheres, but Fermut’s left arm and right leg were torn off by the spheres. Three holes appeared in his abdomen, and the regenerated heart was destroyed again. However, Orta didn’t feel relieved.

He focused on protecting his head. Is the brain the only part that can’t be reproduced? Furthermore, the magic sword’s power has increased...

It might be a sword that regenerated the user’s body in exchange for strength. By the time Orta inferred all that, Fermut’s black eyes returned to being white. The tremendous impact had brought back his sanity.

“K-Kuooooh...! Y-You, see, soon...!”

Using the sword’s power to bend space, Fermut threw his own body a few hundred meters away. Of course, it was a distance that Orta could easily cover.

“.

.. Hrmm.” However, instead of chasing after him, Orta raised a hand. He didn’t intend on leaving future trouble alive. Since Orta could see beyond space, he could see through Fermut’s body.

It is like he is already dead.

Fermut’s life was saved, but he had lost his heart twice, as well as a large amount of blood that contained aura. The magic sword or even a cardinal couldn’t heal those injuries. Furthermore, by maintaining his flesh using the power of a demon, he would suffer side effects.

Rather than returning as a swordmaster, it would be lucky if he could even stand on the battlefield again. In an empire where the weak were suppressed, Prince Fermut’s reputation was about to plummet. It was time to prioritize the army’s victory, rather than chasing after Fermut.

“Sending a command from the deputy commander!” Orta’s voice resonated over the battlefield due to the communication artifact. “The enemy commander, Prince Fermut, has been defeated and has departed from the battlefield! From now on, we will focus our power on annihilating the Andras Empire’s troops!”

Orta used magic to amplify his voice on purpose. The order rang out in the middle of the battlefield, sending Meltor’s morale skyrocketing while burying Andras’ morale.

Prince Fermut, who was the next emperor, had been defeated! The defeat of a master was painful, but it was also the retreat of the chief commander and head of the army. The Andras troops realized the severity of this situation.

It only took an hour for them to be slaughtered.

Thirty thousand Andras soldiers were reduced to around two thousand. Meanwhile, Meltor’s casualties were less than two-tenths of their fighting force. It was a one-sided victory. As Orta thought, Prince Fermut of Andras never showed up again. Even the White Tower had to struggle to find out what happened to him once he returned home.

***

Kaaack, kaaack.

For humans, the battlefield was a terrible horror, but it was a feast for hungry beasts. Crows, wolves, and other wild animals gathered on the riverside after the two armies had left. The victorious Meltor took away their fallen comrades, but Andras had abandoned their casualties as they fled. There were still around thirty thousand corpses strewn around.

“Huhuhu, what a wonderful smell,” a man remarked as he walked through the crater filled with the stench of blood and putrefaction. “The air of the battlefield, where blood and death overflows! I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen so much blood.”

His red hair and red eyes were such an uncomfortable color that anyone would frown if they saw it. It was starkly different from Veronica’s beauty. His crimson hue was the color of dried blood. The beasts, who had been drawn by the smell of blood, slunk away as they felt something ominous.

He was the Red Rider of War, one of the four Horsemen. This man was one of the lunatics who wanted to bring peace to the world through war and slaughter. At first glance, his polite tone and stylish clothing stood in sharp contrast to his nature. The red knight’s eyes flashed with joy as he spread his arms widely.

Ominous lights flashed, and the blood on the floor started to wriggle like slime.

Kullong... kullong...

Each body only had a few liters of blood, but thirty thousand bodies created a red river of blood that flowed into the air. The crimson river spiraled straight into the body of the red knight.

“Kuhuhuhu...! Okay, this is good. Very good! This is such a great and splendid banquet. Like Hipatia said, that magician really is our king!”

Theo had used it as an excuse, but the warlocks close to the battlefield were now certain. They collected the blood, corpses, and ghosts, turning them into their strength!

They wouldn’t be able to obtain so many sacrifices even if they’d annihilated a village. If possible, the red knight had wanted to take them when the blood was still warm and the bodies were in good condition... However, Meltor’s army was too strong. Perhaps if all the Horsemen had been around, then they might have had a chance, but two Horsemen weren’t quite up to the task.

“―Don’t be rash, Red,” an elderly man leaning on a staff rebuked the Red Rider. “As Hipatia said, there is still a corner of the child’s spirit that hasn’t been convinced yet. If he really is our king, we need to figure out why he’s in Meltor and why his memory is incomplete. Make sure not to make contact with him.”

“Of course, Black Rider.”

That’s right. The elderly man, who seemed like he would soon collapse and die, was another of the Four Horsemen who had come to confirm the king’s resurrection—the Black Rider of Famine.

The old man brought his staff down sharply, and the dead rose up around him in a white fog, a form that would be contaminated and reborn as evil spirits. The Black Rider nodded as he swallowed the souls. “... This situation is also satisfactory for me.”

They had been hiding since the last war. The Central Continent had long stopped fighting, so they had had to hunt for blood and death elsewhere. It might be a bit of an exaggeration, but the sacrifices they had collected in the last few days had exceeded the amount of sacrifices they had collected over the last century.

I’m not sure yet, but there isn’t much doubt.

They had waited for a thousand years, and their sharp instincts had sensed anything. The Black Rider had never expected it to happen in his generation, but Hipatia had been convinced. The Red Rider was in his best form, and the last one wasn’t even human. The Black Rider was the most cautious among them, so he had been put in charge of this task.

As a specter of black magic who had already lived for over two hundred years, the Black Rider gazed into the distance with empty eyes. “This land is unusual.”

The northern powers that maintained an unnatural confrontation, and the empire that abandoned the function of a proper nation...

The Black Rider gazed in the direction of Andres’ capital, Belfort, and gulped.

The empire of swords... It is ridiculous.

Was it visible only to a warlock? A whirlpool of energy soared into the sky of the distant horizon.

I’d rather call it the empire of evil energy.

As the two warlocks stood there, the war continued. Meltor had gained the advantage and pushed to the border. The loss of so many of the empire’s Seven Swords and their hidden cards meant that half of Andras was lost. Meltor’s victory was almost confirmed.

However, the warlocks could sense that the war wouldn’t end that smoothly. More blood and more magnificent deaths would overflow. As if confirming their intuition, the situation changed drastically.

At long last, the emperor of Andras moved, and the unification war headed in a direction that no one had imagined.