Chapter 443
Chapter 443. Mountain of Corpses, River of Blood
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHH—!!!”
The Demon Lord’s Prince roared, shaking the atmosphere while swinging a bizarre weapon that looked like a combination of a sword and a spear, slashing at an unfortunate soldier nearby.
“Ugh, WAHH!”
The soldier, trying to block with his shield, was bisected along with it, a wet sound echoing as his innards splattered across the grass. The neighboring soldier, recoiling with a “Hii!” was struck back by the shaft of the spear, bending over and flying away.
“Yikes!!”
“It’s a monster!!”
“Yeah, a monster!”
Zilbagias bared his teeth and shouted at the trembling soldiers.
“This is—what you lot claimed you’d exterminate, the ‘Demon Race’—!!!”
He charged forward, brimming with magical power.
“Now, come and try to take me down—!!!”
The demonic spear-sword slaughtered one soldier after another.
“Enemy attack—! Enemy attack—!”
Desperately fleeing, one soldier blew the warning horn.
“Too slow! At least blow it when I introduce myself!!”
“Uwaaaaa! Don’t come near—Gahhh!”
“Don’t run away! Weak, pathetic soldiers!”
“Help me! Gehh!”
“Oi oi, what’s wrong? Show some guts!”
“—All units, form up! It’s just one opponent!!”
“Mmm.”
Another group of infantry formed up, pushing through the soldiers in panic. They were the so-called heavy infantry, equipped with more armor than the lightly armored soldiers nearby, proudly wielding larger shields.
They seemed well-trained; the pressure of their tightly packed formation was quite impressive.
“Hmm. You look decent, but let’s see….”
“…Demon Race! I won’t let you have your way!!”
A commander, wearing a slightly fancier helmet than the others, shouted with a strained face.
“[The curse of the wicked shall pass us by.]”
““[The curse of the wicked shall pass us by!]””
The heavy infantry chanted in unison, combining their weak human magic to form a stronger magical barrier.
“Everyone, stay strong! The curse of death won’t work that easily; trust in your own life force!”
The commander motivated his subordinates. Just as he said, the curse of death usually had a very low success rate.
The desire to “live” is an instinct for all living beings. Simply being born and living is a miracle granted by the gods. Therefore, curses that outright contradict that mystery and bring death without just cause go against the laws of the world and face great resistance the moment they are unleashed.
Unless there’s a significant disparity in magical power between the parties, the subject’s life force is waning, or they themselves desire death, merely chanting a protective spell can significantly diminish a curse’s effectiveness—
“Well, looks like some sense has arrived. Now, let’s test your mettle.”
Zilbagias grinned, gathering thick, murky dark magic once more.
“[—Die.]”
A torrent of dark energy surged towards the heavy infantry holding their shields.
“Guh, UOOOOOOOO—!!!”
The soldiers gritted their teeth, huddling close, resisting the horrifying sensation of their souls being dragged out. A few of them rolled their eyes and fainted—yet they endured without casualties.
“…Did you see that?! We shall never be defeated by the curses of the Demon Race!!”
“Good. Now how about this? [Arm wither away.]”
Before the commander could boast of his victory, the next curse struck.
“What?! UOOOOO—”
This time, it was merely a curse that sapped strength without defying the world’s mysteries. Before they could even brace for it, the sword and shield in their hands felt impossibly heavy. It felt like they were carrying blocks of stone—there was no way they could hold on!
The heavy infantry struggled, their faces contorted in agony as they desperately maintained their formation, but they soon lost coordination, unable to support their shields.
Then—
“Hmph, pathetic fools.”
Zilbagias, with a look of disappointment, stepped in.
A flash.
With a light sound, he severed the neck of a soldier who had lowered his shield in his defenselessness.
The headless body crumpled to the ground, while Zilbagias thrust his spear into that gap, piercing through the soldier behind. As Zilbagias lifted his weapon, blood arced beautifully behind him, while he dealt crushing blows to the soldiers’ heads with the shaft, severing their necks, and sweeping his weapon to slice through shields and armor, sending their owners to the same fate.
A torrent.
Countless sword flashes gleamed under the moonlight, a tornado-like embodiment of death and destruction, mowing down all in its path.
“Fragile—fragile, too frail! Weakness!!”
Zilbagias screamed, frustration seeping through.
Slashing, beheading, smashing, scattering, crushing, blowing away—he turned the soldiers into ground meat, soaked in blood.
The heavy infantry fought back, desperately urging their unresponsive arms to retaliate, but it was futile. Whenever they tried to stab with their swords, they met a lethal counter; attempting to strike with their shields meant they’d be cut down along with them—approach meant death, and the dense formation didn’t allow for retreat—death awaited in every direction.
It was as if they were waiting for their own execution!
The demon before them was death itself.
Realizing this, the morale of the heavy infantry crumbled.
“Hey! Don’t flinch! Crush him—!!”
The commander shouted loudly, but he couldn’t stop the ebbing flow of the retreat, nor could he maintain his position here alone.
“Too bad.”
The red-eyed war demon approached.
“No matter how well you train your soldiers, with resistances like this, it’s useless. You should have prepared heaps of wards or brought along a Hero or Priest.”
“Ugh… UOOO—”
Ignoring Zilbagias, the commander bravely swung his sword despite the trembling in his arms due to the curse.
Zilbagias easily deflected it and struck the commander’s head forcefully with the spear’s shaft. A dull thud echoed, and the commander’s eyes rolled back as he sunk to the ground.
“I’ll commend your spirit, but… huh?”
A loud horn blared.
The ground trembled with the sound of hooves.
—The sound of cavalry.
“The knights! The knights are coming—!”
One of the common soldiers shouted joyfully.
From the center of the encampment, a group of cavalry charged toward them.
“Get out of the way!”
“Clear the path—!”
“That head is ours!”
The knights, who had been on high alert for an enemy attack, were filled with vim. They had mostly dealt with fortress sieges or urban assaults until now, so they were keen to finally engage in battle. It was unexpected that the opponent was a Demon, and especially one alone—
“HAIYOOO!”
—The mission remained unchanged.
“OOOOOOOO—!”
“Charge! Charge! Charge!”
“Let’s take down the Demon Lord’s Prince!”
As the knights charged in, the infantry that had been surrounding Zilbagias scattered like spiders.
Zilbagias, left standing alone, muttered, “Cavalry charge…? This is my first time seeing it,” looking puzzled.
“UOOOOOOOO—!”
The knights, brandishing their long cavalry spears, aligned their weapons perfectly toward Zilbagias and spurred their horses as one. As the countless hoofbeats closed in, for some reason, the Demon Lord’s Prince neither fled nor moved, standing dazed.
—Has he been intimidated by our might!?
The knights, smirking beneath their helmets, felt victory was assured.
“…How surprising. You really are just standing there and coming at me.”
Zilbagias inhaled deeply, and—
“[GAAAAAHHHHHHHH—!!!]”
He roared as though a dragon were threatening.
The fierce and vicious roar hammered into the cavalry, sending them shuddering and falling into a frenzy. Even as the knights desperately tried to calm their steeds, they became uncontrollable—
“[Legs wither away.]”
Right then, the curse struck.
Even with some magic wards in place, if the target was already shaken, the curse would exploit that hesitation.
The horses, caught in the wave of dark magic, lost all their strength and collapsed mid-gallop. The riders were helplessly thrown to the ground, limbs and necks twisting at unnatural angles. Additionally, following cavalry stumbled over the fallen steeds and knights, leading to a hellish image of chaos—
“GUWAAAA！”
“GYAAH!”
“My jaw!”
Amidst the neighing of horses, screams of knights echoed, rising clouds of dust on the battlefield rapidly descended into a cacophony of despair.
“How foolish. If the weak infantry ended up like that, what use are mere beasts that are even weaker?”
Zilbagias questioned, looking down with a hint of pity.
No one answered. Everyone was far too preoccupied.
Knights, trampled in their glorious armor, coughed blood and trembled. Some managed to escape serious injuries, but others twisted around, their limbs broken, writhing in agony. Still others clung on to wildly thrashing horses, being carried off in completely erratic directions.
—You seldom see cavalry on the front lines of the allied forces.
This was partly because humans stood no chance against the Demon Lord’s Army unless they barricaded themselves in fortresses or castles, but also because cavalry were far too fragile against powerful magic users.
In battlegrounds without extreme magic users, where one might only face fireballs or wind blades, cavalry could exhibit their mobility and striking power.
If that was impossible, this troop type was merely a burden, only utilized for reconnaissance or messengers on the front lines, and cavalry charges became relics of the past—
“What are your fancy swords and armor for?! Stop being lazy and assault with your own feet, or at least ride a unicorn or griffon!”
In that regard, magical beasts might have yielded slightly better results. Though they were extremely difficult to tame, and there weren’t many examples of their use on the continent…
“[Holy Radiance!]”
And—
“[Come to this hand!!]”
The battlefield suddenly turned silver.
“Stop right there! Demon Lord’s Prince, we shall not allow you to have your way any longer!”
“Enemy of the Empire! We cannot let you live!”
“Prepare to be purified by us!”
From the center of the encampment, a group surrounded by a silver aura surged forward in a dense formation, swords and shields at the ready. Coincidentally, this was right after Zilbagias had taunted, “Come at me on your own feet!”
Clad in heavy armor atop their monk robes, they moved with the swift lightness of the wind, evidence of powerful bodily enhancement—
“Ooh…! Holy warriors of the Light Blade Church!”
“We can win! We can win this battle!!”
“Too late!”
Shouts of relief from the common soldiers were drowned out by loud jeers.
—It was Zilbagias.
“What the hell have you bunch of impostors from the Holy Church been doing?! Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I started rampaging?! Were you asleep!? Why didn’t you grant that sacred protection to those poor soldiers and knights?! If you had, it could’ve been a much more decent fight! Is that silver light just for show?!”
He swung his bloodied spear, veins popping on his forehead as he yelled.
“Shut up! You pitiful barbarians!”
“We are not impostors! The Holy Church is a group of corrupted beings that stand against the divine will!”
“Know the sublime teachings of the Light Blade Church and the majesty of His Majesty the Emperor through your bodies!”
The irritated Light Blade Cultists responded, their swords glimmering fiercely.
“AHHHHH?! Try it if you dare!!”
Zilbagias shouted back.
In an instant of glaring, both sides raised their weapons and charged with full force.
The blood-drenched Demon Lord’s Prince clashed violently with the glistening silver battalion, and the momentum of the two sides remained unyielding.
