Chapter 41
“Truly, humans are nothing but utterly repulsive.”
A nightmare was dancing.
The nightmare wore the shape of a human, yet its veins protruded outward like tentacles.
The blood spewed forth from those tentacles turned into blades, ripping apart the flesh of human soldiers and tearing out their hearts.
“What the hell is this thing! Those tentacles just keep multiplying!”
“Striking it won’t work! We need to burn it!”
“You bastard, let Ran go!”
“Stop! If you go, you’ll die too!”
“B-blood! Aaaargh!”
Like starlight shimmering in a melody, a silver-haired man of cosmic beauty licked the blood splattered across his long sleeves.
“Shhh, quiet. Raising your voice so loudly is an unrefined act.”
All around that man, the spilled blood had risen into countless spikes.
On each spike, witches were impaled straight through their bodies, dying in agony.
“Rise again, bearing the dignity bestowed by Endursha. I grant you the true blessing of a king.”
The painful groans turned, in that instant, into screams that pierced the eardrums.
The bloody spikes spread along the veins into the bodies of the dying humans…
Their eyes rolled back white, and soon, surrendering both body and consciousness to the ossuary of the universe beyond time and space, they rose again as puppets.
“Yes… Excellent. Silence itself is the virtue of nobility.”
Rising War Clouds,
The Ancient Ones Awaken from Eternity (1)
[Iron Cross, at present all entry routes are unsafe. Hurry and open the way.]
Year 1698 of the Foundation Calendar, January.
A voice as pure as snow brushed across his mind.
The dawn of the New Year had been restless from the start, and around the Iron Cross Knights racing through the mountains, the heat of the Abyss was boiling.
“Understood. Alidona, confirm the operation objectives again.”
Robelis Alter Shurpain replied on behalf of the Iron Cross.
“The Snowfire Peak barrier generator has fallen to the Blood Clan army. It produces the barrier that suppresses the volcanic ash expansion—its importance goes without saying.”
“What about the enemy commander?” Kaicen asked.
Alidona exhaled smoke from her long pipe.
“One of the ‘Pale Viscounts’ is leading the Blood Clan army. About an hour ago, he annihilated the Scarlet Witches’ Coven.”
The Pale Viscounts—three leaders of the Blood Clan who had been granted noble-like titles by ancient kings.
They did not gain immortality or eternal life as the old nobles had, but only held honorary ranks. Compared to the true ancients, they were unworthy opponents—but Kaicen remembered that even Camilla had struggled to kill one of them.
Mern asked,
“The Scarlet Witches… weren’t they directly under your command, Lady Alidona?”
“Yes. But now they’re all gone. The Holy Star wishes for our Iron Cross to secure this place.”
She spoke of her disciples’ deaths as simply as one might mention the day’s weather.
Such was the battlefield.
Death piled up everywhere, leaving no time or words for mourning—a fact young Feiquorier already understood.
“So all the witches died, eh? What a pain.”
Trval tapped his shoulder with his dragonbone spear.
“Hah! Why not just carpet-bomb the place from the magic batteries? Just rain fire down on the peak—it’ll all be over.”
“You can’t be serious. This is an important facility, we can’t destroy it like that.”
“Enough, both of you. Our mission is to open a route for the main force to join us and to recapture Snowfire Peak by defeating the Pale Noble.”
“Then no need to overthink it, Commander. Just give the word.”
“First, secure the outer paths. Kaicen, you’ll clear the northern and eastern mountain roads by yourself. I’ll give you fifty knights—around two hundred men including squires. Think you can handle it?”
“I could do it without the fifty. Leave it to me.”
Such confidence.
Alidona let out a sharp whistle.
“Mern, Trval—you’re with me. We’ll break through the closest western pass and push toward the center. Alidona will command from the air, supporting Kaicen as much as possible.”
“Got it.”
“As soon as the task is done, both of you come straight to the central temple. Our mission isn’t just to make a path, but to kill the Pale Noble.”
Among the Six Great Demon Tribes, the Blood Clan was the smallest, save for the Demons themselves.
Their sense of privilege drove them to strictly control their descendants.
But the longer wars dragged on, the stronger their forces grew. To humans, they were the most detestable of races.
-
They created Blood Slaves by injecting others with their cursed blood.
Sending these thralls into cities or castles to stir civil strife had ended many sieges swiftly.
-
Yet even the Blood Clan had weaknesses.
Kill the master—the one who had injected the blood—and their slaves perished with them.
“Commence the operation. See you after.”
“Come on, hop on. Weather’s fine—let’s ride together and have some fun.”
Alidona perched lazily on her broom, patting the seat behind her invitingly.
Witches flew on brooms, and carrying passengers required considerable skill to maintain balance.
Kaicen balanced himself on the broomstick with both feet.
[This is Velaph, the Star Witch. Do you hear me, Lady Priestess?]
“Yes, loud and clear.”
[The barrier generators in the outer temples have been seized by the Blood Clan. Their numbers are overwhelming.]
“We’re on the way.”
[Please hurry. We can’t hold them. There must be at least two hundred thousand.]
Looking through the turbulent currents, Kaicen saw them—the minions of the Blood Clan occupying the mountain roads.
Blood Slaves…
They walked like puppets, leisurely yet brutally butchering soldiers like butchers.
“Uuuuuh…”
“Uaaaah…”
“Ahhhh…”
The Blood Slaves charged in hordes.
Even when their legs were blown off by gunfire, even when their bodies shattered, they kept running, fulfilling their master’s commands.
The obsessive, relentless motions inspired horror. Not as overwhelming as Tahuf, perhaps, but still…
“Damn, there’s a lot of them.”
“Eighty thousand here alone, I’d say.”
“You know they aren’t human, right? Souls drained, just puppets.”
“I’ll handle them.”
“All of them?”
“Three will suffice.”
“Wait, what—?”
Kaicen pressed his right hand against the hilt of Aradamantell. The blade howled.
The next moment, he kicked off from the broom and plunged downward.
He drove his sword’s scabbard into the ground, channeling the shock of impact, while his eyes sought his true targets.
‘Blood Clan numbers… one, two, three.’
Amid the crimson waves of slaves, he found them—the three sorcerers pulling the strings.
Blood Clan.
They looked almost indistinguishable from humans.
-
Instructor, then are they truly impossible to tell apart?
-
Not impossible.
They could not walk under sunlight, acting only under night or volcanic ash skies.
-
Their skin is unnaturally pale, and their eyes as blue as stars.
-
Is that all?
-
Don’t worry—they’re vain creatures, dressing in grandiose finery like corpses pretending to be kings.
Just like the three at the edge of his sight.
“Heh. A Feiquorier?”
The Blood Clan found the lone warrior who had dropped into their ranks amusing, yet insolent.
Using blood for their black arts, they were called Blood Fiends.
From their bodies, streams of blood surged outward, forming blades and spears that slashed in all directions—
Flash-draw, One Stroke.
He converted the shock of impact into mana.
Already brimming with energy, there was no need to charge the scabbard again.
Without that process, only the drawing motion itself remained.
“?”
“?”
“?”
Their retinas whirled with disorienting images—Kaicen’s sword flashing free, then resheathing with precise finality.
Only as their bodies staggered, blood spraying from clean cuts, did reality dawn on them.
‘Impossible…’
The Blood Clan nobles—dressed in elegant lace and ruffled finery—collapsed headless.
At the same time, the swarming slaves fell limp like puppets with strings severed.
“Beautiful. Truly magnificent skill.”
Alidona exhaled smoke, then released it in flames that consumed the corpses of Blood Slaves.
Through the burning haze, she landed at the entrance of the outer temple.
“Let’s see here.”
Inside stood a stone stele etched with spells and incantations.
It projected the barrier that repelled volcanic ash—until the Blood Clan had corrupted it with their blood.
“Look what they’ve done to my masterpiece.”
“Can it be fixed?”
“Of course. This is why I’ll never quit smoking—so useful.”
She pressed her pipe’s ember to the bloody stains, filling gaps in the formula with ash.
Crude, yet undeniably skilled.
The stele pulsed, releasing waves that tore through the ash clouds above.
“Good. One down.”
And so it went—find each outer temple, slay the Blood Clan, restore the barrier.
After the third, Robelis’ voice came through.
[Alidona, once the outskirts are secured, come straight to Snowfire Temple.]
“Already finished, thanks to our rookie. On my way.”
Snowfire Temple.
The courtyard was drenched in blood.
Blood Clan, slaves, knights, and soldiers melted together into a red swamp under the suffocating heat.
Stone paths and grass alike were hidden beneath a sea of gore.
“What a charming place this used to be.”
From the shattered stone gates came a chorus of agonized screams.
Kaicen hurried inside, while Alidona paused at the entrance.
She gazed silently at the corpses of witches—blue-eyed puppets enslaved and slain. The stillness was chilling.
[Hurry and bring Kaicen, Alidona. We’re at our limits. Only Mern can still fight here.]
The temple, built in ages past, exuded a grave majesty.
Its towering ceilings, carved dragons and elephants, and womb-like warmth might have inspired awe—if not for the blood lapping at their ankles.
[Follow the underground stairs directly down.]
Kaicen sprinted through the long corridors, past the ancient priestess Frida’s chambers, down into the depths—where he joined the Iron Cross warriors locked in battle with starlight.
“Such graceless movements. Your lack of dignity shames me.”
The Pale Viscount—Endursha.
His silver hair gleamed like starlight, robes shimmering with an inhuman nobility.
“Shut it, you bastard!”
From his back writhed dozens of veins, spewing corrosive blood that twisted into spikes, then blades, then whirling scythes.
“Mern!”
A blue arrow shot for his skull—only for his body to scatter like a thousand bats, re-forming behind a pillar.
“Damn it.”
Endursha bent the narrow chamber to his will.
Robelis and Trval, hampered by the tight quarters, could do nothing but defend.
Robelis finally sheathed Shurpain and turned to magic. Arrows of mana clashed with jets of blood again and again.
“How about this, then?”
Kaicen, waiting for an opening, heard a scroll unfurl.
Alidona’s voice wove the words of Creation itself, power taking form.
Letters rose at Endursha’s feet—Creation Script.
“This is…?”
The power of Creation was bound into the Seven Psalms of Genesis. Of these, four were lost, but three remained with humanity.
Alidona guarded the Psalm of Light, which weakened the flesh of beings outside creation’s law.
In simple terms: wide-area debilitation.
“Kaicen.”
Before the word had fully left her lips, he was already moving.
Left hand on scabbard. Right on hilt.
The Cross Sword style had four basic forms linking into higher arts.
But Kaicen relied only on one path—the four forms he had mastered.
Strike:
Cross Sword Form XI, Thunderclap Severance.
Flame roared from the blade.
Before Endursha’s body could dissolve into red mist, the sword’s cry struck like lightning.
Steel skimmed his flesh—
Clang—clang—clang—clang!
The blazing strike scattered light in all directions, shredding his veins.
Dozens of fine sword-energies pierced his flesh like nails, an advanced form of the Cross Sword’s twelve techniques.
“Y-you… lowly vermin…!”
Blood geysered from his throat.
The liquid tried to stitch his wounds shut, but the fine cuts within his fascia made it impossible.
Then—something twisted within his body.
A vortex transcending time and space.
“What is that?”
“Kill him before he pulls anything!”
For a moment that felt eternal, a colossal finger forced its way out of his ruptured body—
But Aradamantell, Shurpain, and the dragonbone spear struck together, utterly annihilating him.
“…”
“…”
“…”
The sudden chaos gave way to silence, broken only by their ragged breaths.
“What the hell was that just now?” Trval panted.
“Looked like a summoning,” Alidona replied.
“Summoning? Of what?”
“We’ll have to find out.”
She waved her pipe, burning away the blood to reveal the floor—inscribed with sinister runes.
Her eyes froze.
Trval asked, “What is it?”
“‘Hocorum’… it means Noble. He was trying to summon one.”
A heavy silence.
Mern blinked.
“Summon… from where? Don’t tell me an Ancient Noble still lives to be called here?”
Robelis, in contact with the Floating Fortress command, cut in.
“Lord Thunder himself will look into that. Alidona, cast a barrier over the entire temple now.”
“Why?”
“They’re about to carpet-bomb the area. Wipe out the remnants outside.”
The instant Alidona raised a wide barrier, the temple shook with thunder.
The Floating Fortress had ordered bombardment.
Meteor after meteor crashed down, shattering terrain, erasing corruption.
Amid the cataclysm, Robelis spoke.
“Kaicen, you’re coming with me.”
“Where to now?”
“Not a battle mission. The Ain General himself has arrived—he wishes to meet you.”
Trval’s jaw dropped.
“The Ain General? But isn’t the military under Imperial rule now? You mean the dwarf Emperor himself has come?”
