Chapter 178 : The War Begins (8)
The Grand Duke’s breath plumed in the frigid air.
Everything around him was frozen. The buildings, the Maggot Hosts, even the true form of Pepia—the creature no one had been able to face.
All of it stood perfectly still, trapped in a sheath of impossible ice. Time itself seemed suspended.
He clenched his fist, and a slow, satisfied smile touched his lips.
It had been ten years.
Ten years since he had felt this complete.
His campaigns in the Demonic Realm had left their mark.
Demonic energy had seeped into his very bones, a creeping poison that even the priests’ purification rites could only slow. The corruption gnawed at him from the inside out, sapping his strength, stealing the prime he thought he’d lost forever.
He had been dying.
Perhaps the Pope or a true saint could have healed him, but securing their aid was as likely as plucking a star from the sky.
Naturally, his requests had been denied.
The Emperor had offered a trade: send his daughters to fight in the Demonic Realm, and he would personally persuade the Pope.
But how could he?
Even as a loyal member of the Emperor’s faction, he would never force such a fate upon his own children.
If his eldest, a prodigy with the sword, had volunteered, he might have considered it. But she had not.
Ten years had passed since he refused the Emperor’s offer.
He had thought he would never feel this power again.
“I chose a good son-in-law,” the Grand Duke murmured, his chuckle a low rumble. He tightened his grip on his sword.
At this rate, he could entrust Lea and his other daughters to Louis without a second thought.
Of course, since Louis had provided the cure, it was only right that he support his son-in-law in turn.
“So,” the Grand Duke said, his faint smile unwavering as he addressed the frozen demon. “How long do you intend to keep up this act?”
Pepia, trapped in ice.
Even with his power fully restored, felling one of the Twelve Nobles in a single blow was impossible.
And just as he expected… the ice encasing Pepia began to groan, fractures spiderwebbing across its surface.
With an explosion of frost, the ice disintegrated, revealing Pepia’s form.
The smile was still there, but it was brittle now, stretched thin over something new.
Desperation.
“Ahahaha! You thought you could kill me with something like this?!” Pepia roared, his voice dripping with scorn.
The Grand Duke met his gaze with a wry smirk.
“Hardly.”
Shhhk!
He swung his sword.
In that instant, snowflakes began to drift from the sky, soon blanketing the entire Holy Kingdom in a silent, swirling dance.
“Son-in-law.”
The Grand Duke’s voice was low and measured, cutting through the quiet fall of snow.
“It seems a great deal has happened while I was indisposed. Am I wrong?”
“You are not.”
“Heh. I knew I was a good judge of character. We can discuss the details later. For now, there is something you must understand.”
The Grand Duke’s Aura flared, a palpable wave of cold power.
“From the looks of it, you’ve reached the level of Grand Master. But you’re not yet accustomed to its power.”
“…”
“The surge in Aura, the sharpened mind… those are merely byproducts. What truly defines a Grand Master is the origin of their power. Their inner world.”
“My inner world?”
“Indeed.”
Crack—craaack—!
“You feel it in my Aura, don’t you? Now, focus on its source. Expand your consciousness. If you do that—”
He raised his sword.
<Sword-Realm of Eternal Frost>
A sound like a glacier calving echoed across the battlefield as the Grand Duke swung his sword, and the very horizon seemed to split.
Simultaneously, a world of ice unfolded.
“…What is this?” Louis muttered, a humorless laugh escaping him.
Even the Divine Archer—and Enoxia herself—would hesitate to use this technique. A final gambit, reserved only for the direst circumstances.
And the Grand Duke had unleashed it with casual grace.
The moment the snowflakes touched Pepia, they flash-froze him. The gash that split the horizon pulsed with an energy that negated his regeneration, halting all cellular division.
“GUAHHH!”
For the first time, Pepia screamed. His agonized cry echoed across the snow-covered plains.
The Grand Duke let out a long breath.
“This is the one technique I cannot teach you,” he said, a grin spreading across his face.
“So watch closely. And learn.”
* * *
…He’s insane.
I stared, utterly astonished.
I knew the sublime realm of Grand Master was powerful, but this was on another level entirely.
Magic.
Yes, it was no exaggeration to call this magic, a power once thought to be the exclusive domain of Demonkin.
“You’re quiet.”
The Grand Duke had approached without a sound, and he now tapped my shoulder.
“Understandable surprise. It’s not every day one sees a technique like this.”
“‘Not every day’ feels like an understatement.”
It wasn’t just difficult; it was impossible.
My master would have had to burn his remaining lifespan to attempt such a feat.
So this is what he was planning to use.
I had only known it would consume his life force, which was why I had stopped him.
If this was the power at stake, I had to find a way to heal my master as well.
Are there others on the level of the Pope? A true Saint? Or should I use my Halo?
As I weighed my options, a question surfaced.
“…Can Lady Enoxia use this technique as well?”
“She can,” the Grand Duke replied, his expression turning complex. “But you will likely never see it. Her inner world is… unique. It’s the kind of power that should never be unleashed.”
“The kind that should never be unleashed?”
“Yes. If she were to use it… the map of the world would change that day. And Lady Enoxia would become a mass murderer.”
The Grand Duke shuddered at the mere thought of it.
The moment passed.
He gripped his sword and walked toward Pepia.
“Time to finish this,” he murmured.
By the time he reached him, Pepia had done the unthinkable: he had shattered his own frozen limbs, tearing himself free.
He stood hunched and ragged, his form barely restored. Blood matted his skin, a testament to the agony of self-mutilation.
The Grand Duke raised his sword, aiming it at Pepia.
No one else moved.
He had frozen them all—the Templars and my own men—trapped in an ice meant for their protection.
A technique that was both offense and defense.
Truly, a power befitting his title as the Shield of the Empire.
“You…!”
Pepia glared at me, the Grand Duke, and Roxen, his voice a strained rasp. His gaze flickered to a nearby building where he must have sensed my master’s presence.
Four against one.
The odds were no longer in his favor. His infinite regeneration, his greatest advantage, had been nullified by the Grand Duke’s absolute frost.
It was a perfect counter.
Pepia ground his teeth and tried to gather his demonic energy, but the Grand Duke’s attack had left his reserves ravaged. Only a meager wisp of power answered his call.
The Grand Duke grunted, then raised his sword and swung it down.
Slice!
“GUAAAAGH!”
Pepia screamed as his newly regenerated limbs were severed once more.
The Grand Duke looked down at him, his expression cold. “I see no reason to watch you recover.”
“How dare you! How dare youuuuuu!” Pepia roared, his eyes blazing with impotent fury.
With his diminished power, his regeneration was sluggish. The wings that had birthed the Maggot Hosts hung limp and useless.
He looked like a writhing, broken insect.
Watching him, the Grand Duke turned to me. “Will you finish him?”
“No.” I shook my head and glanced to my side.
The knight who had lost his wife and child to this monster was standing right here.
Roxen.
I had promised him vengeance, and now, that moment had come.
“Sir Roxen will deliver the final blow.”
“…Thank you.”
Roxen’s eyes were bloodshot as he walked toward Pepia.
One step. Two.
With each footfall, his expression shifted, a mask of mingling rage, joy, and sorrow.
When he finally stood before Pepia, he swallowed the blood that trickled from his tightly bitten lip.
Roxen clutched his sword in silence.
Pepia, still regenerating, looked at Roxen’s face and curled his lips into a sneer. “Ha… haha… So, you’ve come for revenge?! Good. Do it! I dare you!”
“…Do not rush me.”
Roxen closed his eyes, shutting out Pepia’s crazed expression.
And then.
He plunged his sword into Pepia’s heart.
Pepia coughed up blood, a laugh bubbling from his lips. Even in death, he savored Roxen’s pain.
“Puh… heh… You will live in hell for the rest of your days…” Pepia spat, his expression mocking.
But that look did not last.
“Cough… But why… am I not… dying…?”
His life force was still regenerating around the blade.
Roxen answered, his voice hollow. “You will not die. I ran you through just enough to keep you from it.”
“…What?”
“Madness, you call it? I know nothing of such things. I only want you to feel the same pain my wife and daughter suffered.”
Roxen’s eyes blazed with a cold, dead light.
“So you will live forever, regenerating around this blade, only to be stabbed anew. I suppose it will end when all your demonic energy is finally gone.”
Roxen turned his back.
I met the Grand Duke’s gaze.
“Ah.”
Understanding my unspoken request, the Grand Duke approached Pepia. He swiftly froze the monster’s severed limbs and wings, shattering them into dust.
Pepia shrieked in agony.
“This way, his demonic energy will only regenerate his heart,” the Grand Duke said, his voice grim.
Now, Pepia would suffer for the rest of his existence under the watch of the Holy Kingdom’s Inquisitors.
He would heal around the sword in his heart, only to have it twisted again, over and over.
He would live only to yearn for the day his demonic energy finally ran out.
“Kill me! Just kill meeeee!”
Of course, as a consequence of using Abyssal Realm, his death was already certain.
But the terror of not knowing when it would come would be a far greater torment.
A man on death row, condemned to a lifetime of torture.
It was a fitting end for the creature after madness.
I looked away from Pepia and clapped Roxen on the shoulder. “You endured well.”
“…Thank you,” Roxen replied, his head bowed.
He knelt to the ground and offered me his sword.
“I, Knight Roxen, pledge my undying loyalty to my liege, Baron Louis von Berg.”
His tone was solemn, unbreakable.
This was the Knight’s Oath, a vow into which a knight poured his very soul.
“…I accept.”
I took his sword and lightly tapped it on each of his shoulders.
And so, after a tumultuous battle, the first engagement in the Holy Kingdom came to a close.