Chapter 183
Chapter 183. Think of Death
――Albar Aoril Reiju found himself walking down a dark night road.
『Where… is this…?』
It felt both nostalgic and eerily frightening.
It seemed familiar yet completely foreign.
An odd street scene—no, could this even be called a street? The massive stone structures lining the way appeared to be either towers or gravestones. Albar couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
『And it’s freezing…』
Winter should have been over by now, so why was it so cold…?
『…Big brother!』
『A-ni-kiii!』
…Suddenly.
From somewhere, he heard his junior’s voices.
As he looked ahead, a large bridge came into view, and on the other side, the Knight brothers were waving at him.
『Oh, you guys! You’ve been there all along!』
Albar waved back.
『Wait up, I’m coming over!』
And so, he walked along.
『Big bro!』
『Brother, big brother!』
It seemed the two were desperately beckoning him.
『Hey, what’s with those faces? I’ll be there soon, so don’t panic!』
As Albar called out, laughing, while crossing the bridge, the two only seemed to get more frantic in their gestures.
…No, that isn’t a beckoning?
What is it then? Instead of “Come this way,” were they saying—
“Go that way”…?
He wondered, but his feet didn’t stop moving on the bridge. In fact, they picked up pace, rolling down a slope—no matter how much he wanted to stop, he couldn’t!
『No! Albar!』
Suddenly, his sister’s voice echoed from behind.
『Don’t go! Come back…!』
A warm hand grasped Albar’s shoulder and pulled him back forcefully.
In that moment, his vision began to whiten.
The Oke Knight and Seire Knight’s faces appeared, looking relieved, and it left a deep impression on him—
†††
“…Cough, cough…”
Drowning in a rusty liquid, Albar choked.
Blood. He could taste blood. It was cold. Moreover, his body felt unbearably painful.
What happened? What on earth was going on…? As he turned his head, it was apparent he was lying on the cobblestones. He tried to get up but realized his arms weren’t moving… In fact, he had no arms at all.
Even now, blood was gushing out. Breathing was painful; it felt as though his chest had been cleaved in armor.
Yet, in defiance of the pain, a faint warmth resided deep within him—
(I see, I—took a hit from the Sword Saint’s strike—)
The memories returned. Right after the human swordsman swung his great sword, a tremendous impact overcame him, and his consciousness was cut away… What happened to everyone?!
(What about His Highness?!)
He belatedly noticed that the sounds of battle were reverberating around him. Or perhaps his hearing had returned late.
As he managed to lift his face, he saw a demon clad in silver armor being mercilessly pummeled by human and forest elf warriors!
(Your Highness!!)
He needed to move. Details could wait; right now—he had to save His Highness, Zilbagias!
Weaving together dark magic and extending it as thin as thread. It might seem exceedingly plain, lacking grand usage, but it allowed for meticulous manipulation of magic—!
Like a spider spinning silk for its prey—
Albar’s dark magic entangled the female swordsman who was attacking Zilbagias.
(Please! Let it pass!)
Half-praying.
“【Transposition】”
—Indeed, the female swordsman’s arms were severed, and blood seeped from her chest through her clothes as she collapsed weakly, just as Albar sprang up with newly grown arms.
…He felt a bit dizzy from the blood loss, but it was manageable!
“Sorry, Your Highness! I was out cold!”
Zilbagias looked at him in shock, his eyes widening. Surely, he hadn’t expected Albar to still be alive. Moreover, blue blood flowed down from underneath the hand clamped at Zilbagias’ throat.
(Your Highness is injured too!?)
So that’s why he was in such dire straits!!
“I’m coming to help now—!”
Fumbling around, Albar grabbed a spear and invoked a protective spell as he rushed forward.
“Not good!!”
The armed priest about to attack Zilbagias screamed.
“【Let there be light!】 It’s over, just leave this to me!”
As the armed priest shot a beam of light at Albar, she yelled at the fleeing forest elf beside her.
The female forest elf, biting her lip with tears in her eyes, dashed away like a rabbit. It was good that she seemed to have given up on the royal, but it was a bit much that she could escape, Albar thought.
Firing his dark magic to counter the priest’s beam, though he was pierced a bit, it felt like experiencing just a spark of pain. Nothing to worry about.
Meanwhile, the armed priest stood firm, an expression of determination on her face. Behind her, it appeared the forest elf was preparing to carry away an unconscious mage.
—He could hardly let that happen.
“【Chains of Restraint!】”
As the priest offered her prayers, sparkling chains of magic bound Albar tightly.
However.
To put it simply, that was a bad move against Albar.
With no struggle, Albar slipped free from those chains.
Having contracted with the demon of 【Wildness】, Albar was not to be confined by anything—!
“Eh!?”
The priest’s eyes widened in disbelief as she hurriedly prepared for her next spell. It was time to finish this—
Just then, he stumbled.
“Whoa!?”
He was caught off guard, looking down to see the female swordsman that Albar had just injured stretching out her leg in a last-ditch attempt to impede him.
(Wow—…)
Her desperate expression, eyes brimming with tears, and determination to keep fighting till the end filled Albar with respect.
(But that’s scary.)
Surely, she was also a Sword Saint. Though gravely injured with her arms gone, she wasn’t to be underestimated; Sword Saints were a terrifying breed of fighters.
Hence.
He swung his spear.
Following Zilbagias’ lead, he fashioned the blade into a spear tip. Nicely sharpened, it would cut excellently.
With a whoosh,
The female swordsman’s head was cleanly severed.
Her black hair spread out, and the unicorn-shaped helmet rolled soundly on the cobblestones.
Now, how to deal with the armed priest—when Albar turned his gaze back.
A chilling surge of dark magic erupted.
“Your Highness…?!”
Even before looking that way, he understood, he instinctively knew. Zilbagias’s murky gaze pierced him fiercely. It was… close to anger, but there was something more terrifying.
Albar instinctively flinched, but the gaze was quickly diverted to the armed priest who was retreating with the same fear in her eyes. Zilbagias inhaled, enveloped in intense dark magic.
…For just a moment, the dark magic flickered silver; was that his imagination?
“――To resist is forbidden”
Albar froze. There was something… oddly intense. The power of 【Wildness】 was trembling, shrinking in fear.
…Did he just say “forbidden”? Not “prohibited”?
Ignoring Albar’s doubts, Zilbagias’s dark magic wrapped around the armed priest.
“【Transposition】”
Blood sprayed from the priest’s neck. With his sword spear raised, Zilbagias glided in closer. Albar, having judged the battle decided, redirected his focus to the forest elf.
She was running, carrying the mage. He sensed magic flowing with her, perhaps a speed-boosting spell. If that were the case, it could be a bit risky—
He readied his spear.
Just like when he fought at the fortress.
“Catch!”
He thought Zilbagias might not like it again, but gathering all his magic power, he launched it.
With a woosh, a heavy sound cut through the air.
The spear, trailing dark magic, drew a beautiful arc, pouncing down like a bird of prey onto the back of the forest elf—
“Ah!?”
The forest elf sensed something awry and turned slightly, but it was too late.
With a wet sound, the spear skewered both her and the mage on her back.
“Got it!”
As Albar pulled back on his arm, the threads of magic pulled the spear back to him skillfully. Just like when he threw it at the fortress, this went smoother than he’d expected, considering he had almost no experience.
…It was likely because he subconsciously maintained the connection with the magic threads. According to his mother, there were those in his hometown who could manipulate threads as if they were limbs. Being able to control strings from a distance means he could likely exert some flexibility over connected targets as well.
Probably.
Regardless, the results mattered most.
“Um… Your Highness. Those guys might still be alive, can I finish them off…?”
Albar asked, feeling a bit anxious.
“…Let’s do that.”
Zilbagias nodded casually.
“But they’re your trophies. You saved me earlier. The rest is up to you.”
Zilbagias dashed off like the wind, striking down into the fallen forest elf, delivering the finishing blow without mercy.
“…”
Seeing that unfold, Albar felt his shoulders relax. He nearly slumped to the ground but managed to hold it together.
Because, Kuvirtar had always insisted. In battle, a moment’s complacency could be fatal. The times he felt most relaxed were when he must remain vigilant—
—He suddenly realized.
“Kuvirtar…?”
Until now, he hadn’t had the time to think.
What about everyone else?
Turning around.
The city had become a mountain of rubble, and the spreading bluish-black blood seeped into his vision.
“Ah… ahhh…!!”
The dream he’d seen just before waking flashed before his mind.
Why had he felt so carefree in that dream? No matter how he looked at it, it was far too ominous.
And within that dream—the fact that his juniors appeared.
“Oke! Seire!”
He shouted as he rushed out but halted right in his tracks.
—At first, he thought they were buried from the chest down.
But that wasn’t it. They had completely lost their lower halves. Seire, made into a bust-like form, hung with wide-open eyes looking down.
“Ahhh…… ahhh…!!!”
And beyond her, Oke sank in a pool of blood, decapitated at the shoulders. Further on, Kuvirtar lay split clean in half.
This time, Albar’s strength left him entirely, and he crumpled to the ground, collapsing to his knees.
“Everyone… everyone…!!”
Letting out a pathetic cry, Albar weakly slammed the ground. The earlier dream—it truly was what it was. His juniors had desperately been calling out “Don’t come this way” for him…
“Ugh… ughhhh…!!”
Forgetting about the surrounding dangers, tears and snot flowed as he heard footsteps approaching from behind.
Turning slowly, he saw Zilbagias, stained in his own blood from neck to shoulder.
“Your Highness…”
“…Everyone is dead.”
With a vacant expression, Zilbagias spoke, looking like a corpse.
“You’ve survived well, Albar.”
“…It’s thanks to him…”
While crying, Albar hugged Oke’s remaining half, still faintly warm.
“It just so happened… that he stood in front of me… and because of that, I…”
—That strike from the Sword Saint had been slightly mitigated.
“Also… the protective charms from my sister and mother…”
As he stroked Oke’s hair, he searched his own pocket. Even though Oke had acted as a shield, both of Albar’s arms had been severed, yet his torso had only been slashed deep enough to avoid complete dismemberment.
…Ah. Just as he thought.
In his chest pocket, the handkerchief woven with protective magic.
Now cruelly torn apart, its magical strength completely depleted.
“This was… a substitute…”
The handkerchief’s protection had kept him just barely alive… allowing his torso to stay together despite the destruction.
“Ugh… ughhh…!!”
The guilt of surviving at the cost of Oke’s life.
Yet somehow still managing to remain alive, the relief.
Thankfulness towards his sister and mother.
All these feelings crashed together, leaving him in a whirl.
“Did Kuvirtar and the others… all die…?”
“…Yeah.”
“I see…”
The memories of rigorous training days flooded his mind, suffocating him. Kuvirtar and his elite subordinates—at first, he had disliked them for being so typical, but their prowess was undeniable, and nonetheless, they had taught him numerous valuable lessons…
“Damn it…!!”
Frustrated, Albar struck the ground again—
Yet once more, Kuvirtar’s voice echoed in his mind. “In battle, a moment’s complacency can be fatal. So, no matter the situation, never let your guard down.”
He couldn’t afford to dwell on this forever.
Mourning could wait until he returned home.
Albar wiped his tears, forcing a smile on his face.
“…But I’m glad Your Highness is safe—”
Suddenly, a shock jolted his chest.
Looking down, he saw a blade sprouting from his left chest.
“…Huh?”
An ambush? Is there still an enemy?
Such thoughts flooded his mind. This was bad; he had to retaliate.
But for some inexplicable reason, he couldn’t summon any strength at all.
The blade slid out— Albar plummeted to the ground.
With only his eyes moving, he gazed up at the night sky, framed by the moon—
Zilbagias looked down at him.
In his hand, he held a sword soaked in blue blood—
“Your… Highness…?”
With those final words, Albar’s movements ceased.
His expression remained in shock.
His eyes no longer reflected anything—
†††
“…”
In the eerily silent battlefield, Zilbagias turned his back on Albar.
With each step, he tread deliberately.
He picked up the severed head of the black-haired woman.
“…”
A regretful, agonized expression. Though lifeless, her eyes glistened.
Surely, it had been a death filled with helplessness. He could sense it all too well—
“…”
Still holding the woman’s head, Zilbagias slowly ventured into a nearby house.
Darkness. Silence. There was no hint of other life, but.
“【—To silence is forbidden】 Ahhh—”
Extending his magic field to envelop the house completely, he listened intently.
A search. He needed to confirm that nothing lurked there.
“…”
He set the woman’s head down on the nearby table.
With a chill, the demon prince released abhorrent dark magic.
“【Aoralot Teihosu Po Horizi Ton Kozumo, Aniksite—】”
He recited loudly, casting a spell to pierce the boundaries of the world.
Before Zilbagias, a portal to the spirit realm opened.
“【Come forth, Kuvirtar Reiju】”
He called out the name. Sluggish tendrils of magic entered the spirit realm.
“Ooohhhh—” As the spirit was summoned from afar, it looked at Zilbagias with a stunned expression.
『…Where is this…? What am I…? Your Highness!?』
The dark-colored demon’s soul gazed blankly at Zilbagias.
『What happened…? What has occurred to me…?』
But Zilbagias offered no reply to that question.
Instead, he held aloft the ancient holy sword.
“【Awaken, Adamas】”
An instant of silence.
The holy sword twitched slightly.
Radiating blinding light, it regained its original form as if welcoming dawn.
『What is this light—!? Your Highness!? What are you doing!?』
The spirit recoiled instinctively, taking a step back, but Zilbagias’s dark magic constricted around it like chains, not releasing it.
『What is this!? What’s happening!? Tell me, what are you—!』
Zilbagias brought the holy sword crashing down upon the soul of Kuvirtar.
『—Gaaaahhh!!』
Engulfed in silver flames, the spirit shrieked in torment.
Without losing a beat, Zilbagias struck again, obliterating the now-silent spirit into countless pieces.
The spirit had been thoroughly destroyed.
“【Come forth, Seire Knight Reiju】”
He solemnly chanted once more.
『…Huh? Your Highness? Huh? Why am I—』
A slash.
『Gyaahhh!! Huh? What!? It hurts, help me Your Highness—!』
Another slash.
—And gone.
“【Come forth, Oke Knight Reiju】”
This ritual continued, coldly.
Mercilessly, mechanically, it went on.
“【Come forth, Trisitan Reiju】”
“【Come forth, Aslios Reiju】”
“【Come forth— Come forth—】”
Summoning his former subordinates, comrades.
One by one, he summoned them only to shatter them.
After slaying seven, he finally reached—
“【Come forth, Albar Aoril Reiju】”
At last, it was his turn.
『Your Highness…』
Dragged out from the spirit realm, the demon youth gasped.
『Why… why is this happening?! Your Highness!?』
—But Zilbagias said nothing.
Instead, he raised the holy sword in his hand.
『Why—!!』
He cleaved through the mournful wail of the soul—
“Why…?”
The soul shattered into fragments, vanishing.
“…‘Why?’”
Zilbagias laughed with a dry voice.
“…Because everyone has died.”
Murmuring that, he glanced at the head of the woman resting on the desk.
—The portal to the spirit realm remained open.
“【Come forth… 】”
Bal… as he called the name, Zilbagias’s body stiffened at the sound of sword clashes echoing from somewhere.
Not close. Yet, not too far away either.
“…【Sleep, Adamas】”
Zilbagias sealed the brilliance of the holy sword, closing the portal to the spirit realm.
Once more, he gazed at the woman’s head on the desk.
Her eyes remained wide open, glistening.
Gently closing her eyelids—
A tear slipped down her cheek.
Was it anger? Sadness? Mourning?
No, it was surely her face… filled with regret.
“…I’ll come back for you later.”
Zilbagias spoke tenderly, turning away.
Re-adjusting his helmet, he wiped the blood from his neck.
The wounds had fully healed, yet—deep, unmistakable scars remained, signifying the ravages of holy magic.
Upon leaving the house, the sky was red.
Of course, it wasn’t dawn. Several fortresses were engulfed in flames.
The barrier of the 【Holy Great Tree】 flickered and disappeared yet again.
――Indeed.
This was a battlefield.
The battle for the Capital of Evaroti had only just begun.
The demon lord’s prince, Zilbagias’s task—
—Was still far from over.
