Chapter 174 : The War Begins (4)
Lindal the Tyrant.
Among the continent’s Grand Masters, he was known for wielding the most destructive Aura of all. While other knights found their Aura growing calm and refined upon reaching that rank, his was focused on a single principle: destruction.
He was the Tyrant of War, the Berserker. A single swing of his sword could pulverize a mountain; a single roar could dominate a battlefield.
And the Aura cultivation technique he used…
The Aura of Emotion. The very technique Roxen had learned from Roxha.
With each breath, the surrounding Aura began to glow a deep crimson.
The first emotion Lindal had mastered was rage.
<Lindal's First Form: Wrath>
Roxen swung his sword, and a colossal wave of crimson Aura erupted from the blade, shooting toward Pepia in an instant.
“Hah!”
Pepia dodged the attack with a burst of laughter. “More! Is that all you have?!”
He stretched a hand into the air, conjuring a storm of demonic daggers.
Whoosh—whoosh—whoosh!
The daggers rained down, shrieking through the air.
Roxen watched them fall.
So this is the path a Grand Master sees.
Moments ago, he wouldn’t have understood. Now, it was perfectly clear. Not a path to avoid injury, but a path to victory through it.
He saw which strikes would kill and which he could endure.
Roxen’s feet moved, weaving through the storm. He even let some of the daggers hit.
Thunk! Thunk!
Blood streamed from his wounds, but he didn’t let out a single sound. Rage had a way of erasing pain.
“Guaaaaaaaaaaah!”
His eyes turned bloodshot as his Aura swelled once more.
<Lindal's First Form: Wrath>
His second strike was far more powerful than the first. The proof?
The vicious slash tore through Pepia’s fine suit, leaving a gash across his chest.
“…Hah.”
Pepia’s eyes curved into crescents as he glanced down at the wound. He looked delighted.
But Roxen gave him no quarter. “Let’s see how long that smile lasts!”
<Lindal's First Form: Wrath>
His third strike flew at Pepia’s neck.
“Now this is a bit dangerous,” Pepia muttered, still smiling, though a flicker of surprise showed in his eyes.
And then—SLICE!
Pepia’s flesh tore open. For the first time, blood sprayed from his body.
Pepia retreated a step, touching a hand to his neck.
Blood. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bled. And to think a mere whelp who hadn’t even reached the rank of Master had wounded him.
Truly…
“Magnificent.”
A predatory grin remained on Pepia’s face.
It was obvious the man was using the power of some artifact. Humans had other names for them, of course, but that was the Demonkin term. Relics left behind by ancient paragons, containing the skills of their original wielder.
The Holy Kingdom called them holy relics, others divine treasures, but the essence was the same.
Of course, I never imagined an artifact of this caliber existed.
Pepia let out a dry laugh.
For now, Roxen had stepped into the realm of a Grand Master. Not through normal means, of course. The necklace’s techniques and his own Aura had created a synergy that forcibly elevated him.
But such an unnatural path came with a price: the slow destruction of his own body.
Still, it’s quite impressive.
The way he charged, tearing apart the surrounding Demonkin, was the very image of a tyrant. Had he become a Grand Master through his own power and used these techniques…
He could have reached the level of the Twelve Nobles. Perhaps with a title higher than Count. The title ‘Count of Wrath’ might have belonged to this human.
Pepia chuckled again, licking the blood from his fingers. Not that it will ever happen.
The man was beyond persuasion, and his body was steadily breaking down. After this battle, he would likely never lift a sword again.
What a pity he could only enjoy this spectacle once. If someone with a halo were present, even a shattered body could be restored, but the world was rarely so convenient.
By its nature, the world was cruel.
Pepia clicked his tongue in disappointment and leaped back.
CRASH!
Roxen’s sword slammed into the ground where he had just been standing.
“Don’t you dare run!”
Such a madman. Telling him not to dodge a blow like that was the same as telling him to stand there and die.
“You’ve truly given yourself over to rage,” Pepia muttered, flicking another dagger.
Roxen’s swordsmanship remained fierce, crude, and utterly destructive. It was like watching a beast—a beast whose single swipe could sever a head.
What to do?
The start of the war was already a failure. The plan to wipe the Holy Kingdom from the map was now impossible. So was the secondary objective of using this legion to strike the Empire’s rear.
The Dimension Leaper and its mirror had been destroyed. The main army still had others, but smuggling them this deep into enemy territory would now be impossible.
However.
“The mission is not a complete failure.”
Pepia’s mocking smile remained as he drew forth his demonic energy. “Do you remember how many techniques I’ve used?”
Heh.
To awaken the man, he had used only one <Nightmare>. But he himself had used two.
“I didn’t create this just for show.”
Pepia lightly tapped the air saturated with demonic energy. “It’s a technique called the Prison of Madness. Did you perhaps see it in your dream?”
“…What?”
“The scene where humans turned into lumps of flesh.” Pepia’s lips twisted into a grotesque smile.
And then, he clapped his hands and roared, “Now! Let the festival begin!”
Gurgle. Gurgle.
“Wha-what—!”
“Wait—!”
Across the battlefield, the bodies of the priests began to twist. Their forms dissolved, melting into grotesque lumps of flesh. They couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.
And yet, they were still alive.
“Hahahahaha!” Pepia burst into a fit of mad laughter.
This was a curse. A curse that prevented death, yet made one crave it with every fiber of their being.
The worst curse imaginable.
“You baaaaastard!” Roxen, his eyes blazing, charged at Pepia.
In response, Pepia chuckled and snapped his fingers. A mass of flesh materialized between them.
Roxen stopped dead, staring in horror at the grotesque form.
Pepia’s face lit up with glee. “You recognize them!”
“You son of a biiiiiitch!”
“Hahahaha! Say hello! Aren’t they your wife and daughter?!” Pepia roared with laughter, dodging Roxen’s attack like a child running through a playground.
“Hah…” he sighed, his eyes curving into a smile of pure satisfaction.
Truly, this was the best day.
* * *
“It looks like the end is in sight,” I muttered, watching the dwindling Demonkin forces.
Thanks to Kai destroying the Dimension Leaper and the mirror, the tide of battle had turned. Of course, Pepia’s pocket dimension was still a concern, but so far, nothing else had happened.
Thwip!
I buried an arrow in another Demonkin’s head and turned.
The others were wiping out the last of the enemy. Winning this first battle would be a huge boon for the war to come.
“Kill every last one of the Demon God’s spawn!” the Commander of the Holy Knights roared as he cut down a Demonkin. Inquisitor-General Helena was leading her inquisitors in a similar slaughter.
Soon, the first battle in the Holy Kingdom would be over.
I nodded and began to gather my Aura.
It was then.
The very air thrummed with something different. It became heavy, grim, and utterly repulsive.
It had been thick with demonic energy before, but this was on another level. As if a worm made of demonic energy was crawling through my lungs.
Wait.
Something clicked. This was the man who caused the Ayla Tragedy. And so far… he hadn’t used the technique he’d shown back then. The one that had wiped an entire village off the map, leaving nothing but a weeping man and pieces of flesh.
“Everyone, to me!” I cried, unleashing my Stigmata in a burst of light that rallied the priests and our allies.
My own troops rushed toward me, but the others stood there, confused.
And then.
Gurgle. Gurgle.
The nightmare began.
All around us, humans began to transform into lumps of flesh. Those with divine power and the common believers trapped here—all of them twisted and fused, becoming nothing more than meat.
If only they were dead, it would have been a mercy.
“…”
Though I couldn’t hear a sound, I could feel it. Those lumps of flesh were still alive.
“You psychotic bastard,” I breathed.
At the same time, I understood. I knew the true identity of the flesh left behind at Ayla.
Madness. He was literally the incarnation of it.
I clenched my fists, gathering my Aura and directing it at him.
Huuuum!
Blood dripped from the Stigmata on my hand as a halo shaped like a crown of thorns began to spin above my head.
The light from my halo filled Pepia’s barrier of demonic energy.
“…So you’ve finally crossed the line.”
My mind was made up. I had planned to let Roxen have his revenge, but that was no longer an option.
“It’s time to get serious.”
I glared at Pepia, the halo spinning faster. Its duration was three minutes, at most. I had to finish him within that time.
Of course… that would be more than enough.