Chapter 118

“Our lives belong to Mother, the blood we spill is a carpet leading to the heavens, and the enemy’s limbs we offer will be used as a toll on our path!”

Across the continent, the Holy Knights of the Church were widely known to be incredibly difficult opponents.

First and foremost, the blessings they cast upon themselves had powerful effects capable of transforming even ordinary people into elite soldiers, making them terrifying in their own right.

Even if one managed to penetrate their defenses and inflict wounds upon them, their self-cast healing spells were enough to demoralize the enemies.

Among such Holy Knights, the Zion Knights, possessing exceptional skills and fanatical faith, were at the forefront, steadily blocking the Night’s Kin.

“First rank, commence firing! Second rank, prepare to fire!”

And behind these Zion Knights, the Wizards lined up, unleashing their prepared spells towards the advancing enemies.

Lightning, fire, wind, and other elemental magic formed a spectacular array as they struck at the foes, creating a truly magnificent sight.

If this had not been a battlefield, one might have been entranced by the dazzling display of magic unfolding before their eyes.

The Wizards in the allied forces were those more accustomed to combat than research, unlike many in the Mage Tower.

Thus, they were firing spells in a continuous stream, much like seasoned archers unleashing a volley of arrows in formation.

“There’s an enemy that breached the right flank!”

“I’ll handle it!”

Of course, there were enemies that had survived the magic of the Wizards and crossed the wall of the Holy Knight Order blocking their path.

However, waiting for those who barely managed to break through was an arrow flying toward their foreheads, and soon they lay on the ground as cold corpses.

Elves, born archers even among their kin, had exceptional Crimson Wardens pulled from each tribe to deal with the Night’s Kin, expertly taking down the protruding foes.

In reality, a bow was not the best weapon to use against the Night’s Kin.

With their regeneration capabilities allowing them to quickly recover even from decapitation, injuring them with arrows was usually ineffective.

Thus, when using bows, one had to aim precisely at their only weakness, the head, a task the Crimson Wardens could accomplish effortlessly.

“Maintain this formation!! If we retreat from here, the people will die!”

The solid formation of the allied forces shone brightly, a testament to their synchronization.

Indeed, they were fighting exceptionally well against the Night’s Kin.

“Damn it, why are they so well-prepared!”

Blackthorn, one of Sataniel’s direct subordinates, exclaimed in panic.

He was aware that an allied force had been formed, but he was shocked to realize it was such a well-trained group.

If it had just been the allied forces, they might have managed somehow, but the presence of a few elite members assisting them was very troubling.

CRACK!

“Nice!!! To think there are so many bug-ridden pests here!!! This is truly Mother’s grace!!!”

A lone Holy Knight swung a flail and sword amidst a group of Dark Elves.
A Holy Knight wielding a mace and sword.

He smashed a dark elf’s head with the mace while piercing the leg of an incoming enemy with the sword in his remaining hand.

“This kind of wound means nothing to me!!”

Despite having a sword lodged in his thigh, the dark elf charged in as if nothing happened, roaring.

“I didn’t intend to injure you; I just intended to prevent you from running away.”

Alexander approached, looking as calm as can be despite being surrounded by enemies, swinging his mace again at the approaching foe.

Of course, the dark elves weren’t just watching Alexander do his thing.

They clawed and bit him with their sharp hands and teeth, but it was all for naught.

“Ah… this is just the best! To witness the bugs squirming right in front of me…”

The Immortal Alexander.

The nickname of “Immortal” wasn’t exclusive to the Night’s Kin.

It was also a nickname for the leader of the Zion Knights, Alexander.

Even as his body was pierced and slashed by the dark elves, light emanated from Alexander’s form.

The source of that light was the tattoo engraved on his body, part of one of the Goddess Church’s visions known as the Life Tattoo.

Many of the visions passed down by the Goddess Church had serious side effects and were discarded.

Among those was the Life Tattoo, a spell that etched a particular pattern onto the body, allowing one to convert divine power into regenerative abilities, bestowing incredible recovery capabilities.

However, the pain endured during recovery was so excruciating it made it hard to maintain sanity, hence it was discarded.

Ignoring such drawbacks, it was Alexander who had the Life Tattoo etched onto him.

He possessed a peculiar constitution that allowed him to feel no pain during battle; no matter how agonizing the Life Tattoo was, all he felt was ecstasy when crushing the heads of heretics.

“What the hell is this guy!!!”

As Alexander ravaged the enemy ranks, there were others behaving the same way.

Clang!

One of the most renowned swordsmanship styles in the Empire, from the Northern Household of Count Prious.

The northern monsters, having adapted thick skin to endure the brutal cold, were met with the razor-sharp swordsmanship of Prious, as fierce as a biting winter wind.

With the resolution that either he would kill the enemy or die himself, Kyle wielded his blade, cleaving down dark elves.

And then,

“Why can’t I find an opening… We’re the ones surrounding them, so why does it feel like we’re the ones being cornered?!”

While Alexander drew in enemies to fight and Kyle was carving a path through them, Edric was creating gaps among the foes.

Swish.

With each step he took, the unbelievable sight of enemies retreating in response.

It was as if there were an invisible shield surrounding Edric, denying any approach from the enemies.

“Ugh! This has to be some sort of magic!”

The instinct for survival warned the enemies not to step into that space.
It was the survival instinct warning them that they couldn’t just dash into the void of space.

The inevitable feeling that entering that space would surely lead to death stopped their feet in place.

However, some Dark Elves ignored that and lunged at Edric.

One Dark Elf charged recklessly, ignoring all instincts.

Slick.

Thud.

And what unfolded was utterly unnatural.

The Dark Elf was essentially committing suicide by throwing themselves onto Edric’s sword.

“That’s something you’d never see a way to counter the first time,” Kyle said, somewhat horrified, as he sliced through the Dark Elves.

The term ‘Marionette’ was the name people had given to Edric’s swordsmanship.

It was a technique that created an absolute space equivalent to the length of the sword he was wielding.

“Marionette, huh? It’s certainly a fitting name for such a skill,” someone from the Allied Forces commented, astonished by Edric’s swordplay.

The spacing of the sword, the position of the feet, the movement of the shoulders.

These are all fundamental elements when handling a sword, yet a skilled knight could force their opponent’s movements just with those alone.

For example, moving the right shoulder slightly would instinctively cause the opponent’s left shoulder to jut out.

And Edric’s Marionette was the culmination of that to the extreme.

A technique that, through precise calculations rather than instinct, manipulated the opponent like a marionette on strings when they entered his space.

This was something Edric had developed over time, struggling to survive against his older sister, Ioleen.

Even his master, the Sword Saint, had remarked that it was impossible to counter this at first sight, so it was absurd for the instinct-driven Dark Elves to counter it.

With a few exceptional individuals tearing through the enemy lines, the Allied Forces could push the enemies even harder.

“It went just as he predicted,” Alexander said quietly, after fighting amidst the bloodshed for quite some time.

In truth, considering how much havoc he was causing in the enemy ranks, he felt regretful that the ones he expected to have shown up already were nowhere to be seen.

Sataniel and his 12 officers—no, now they should be referred to as 9 officers—of the enemy elite were absent.

Of course, they weren’t entirely missing.

In front of him stood one, and after looking around, he spotted about three more Dark Elves that appeared to be officers elsewhere.

But that was still far too few.

– They’re definitely going to organize a separate force to attack the rear.

It seemed that Richard, the leader of the Crimson Warden, had predicted that very scenario when organizing his forces.

*

Thud!

“Man, getting older just isn’t what it used to be.”

Contrary to his words, Alain was calmly driving a dagger into the skull of a Dark Elf trying to cross over into the mansion without breaking a single breath.
It was.

When it comes to secrecy, the Dark Elf wouldn’t lose to anyone, but that excellent strike only made him realize he had been hit after feeling the blade lodged in his head.

Although he had become a forgotten existence long behind the pages of history, Alain, who inherited the techniques of the ‘Circus Troop’ that once signified death within the Empire, once again hid his body in the darkness.

“Your footwork is quite sharp for a human.”

“Well, it seems you would make an interesting hunt.”

“Kahaha, the old man is getting too cocky, relying on tricks! I’m not fond of the taste of old man’s blood, but today, I’ll indulge!”

Alain was also feeling it.

The enemy that had appeared before him was powerful.

He needed to focus to face that guy.

‘I trust you, Young Master.’

Leaving the rear to Richard, it was now time to face the newly appeared formidable opponent.

*

“I didn’t expect the troops to be split.”

Sataniel frowned.

He had intended to ambush the rear with half of the eight officers and finish the battle in one fell swoop.

But in plain sight, some of the coalition troops were waiting in the rear.

Although they couldn’t distribute their forces much, the number wasn’t great, but the officers he brought along seemed to be in a blocked situation.

“You haven’t improved, did you really think the same trick would work again?”

Blocking Sataniel’s path was a man.

“You should have killed me back then; are you coming at me again just because you survived due to that old human?”

“That’s not something you can say after running away, surprised by the Master’s strike.”

“You insolent brat!!”

As the enraged Sataniel summoned his power, the air around him began to tremble.

In response, Richard also pulled his signature greatsword toward his chest and assumed a fighting stance.

-Burn it all, all of it.

Richard recalled the words of his master, the sword master.

Now was the time to end this even if he had to burn everything he had.

Just as Sataniel and Richard faced off and Cypris, Alain, and Oun fought desperately against the officers in the rear.

“That’s my boy. I once wielded a pretty good sword in my youth.”

“Don’t lie, Father. I heard everything from Alain.”

“What… what are you talking about!”

“They say you left as a knight to build martial arts but came back empty-handed after encountering bandits.”

The Count and Rupert were hiding in the innermost office of the mansion, watching the battle outside.

“Aida wants to fight too!”

“No! If you act recklessly, you won’t get any snacks from me again!”

The coalition troops had isolated them in a safe place where they couldn’t contribute to the battle.

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