[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]

Chapter 315: The Prowess of Leszek

Even while advancing through the shortcut, Verdzig continued to monitor the battle situation through Skella’s eyes.

“The Duke has made a bad move.”

Slowing his advance to spread out scouts? That was actually a good thing for them.

“Young Master, at this rate, we might be able to execute the joint attack at the most opportune moment.”

Harald remarked.

Harald was right.

“Indeed. After a series of variables upon variables, we may have stumbled upon the optimal strategy after all.”

Verdzig commanded Skella.

“Get a precise fix on the locations of the scouts the Duke has positioned in his rear.”

“…As you wish.”

He then spoke to the pale-skinned vampire who was riding silently behind him.

“Assassins of Recrusa.”

“Your command, my lord.”

“When I give the order, you will kill all the scouts simultaneously.”

Verdzig was preparing for a perfect surprise attack.

“Once the battle begins and their rear goes dark, we will strike their flank like lightning.”

It felt as if he had finally grasped the end of this long battle.

‘And if I successfully kill Duke Montera, the victory in this competition will be mine.’

He had not forgotten the true nature of this conflict.

This was a battle to decide the next master of Grunewald.

***

The martial prowess of Heinz Valkenhain was nothing short of superhuman.

An ironclad defense, a fierce yet fluid chain of attacks, a sword that had reached the pinnacle of reason…

He cut down his enemies without moving first, easily foiling their techniques after having already seen several moves ahead.

His sheer fortitude, which made it seem as if he could hold a pass against ten thousand men all by himself, was enough to wear down his enemies’ will.

“He’s bluffing. Send in the Death Knights sequentially to drain his strength.”

“Yes, sir!”

But even in the face of this unforeseen situation, Amilcar, the commander of the special forces, responded appropriately to wear down Heinz’s strength.

“Undead knights?”

“Indeed. They are on a different level from the likes of Dullahan.”

Death Knights were monsters that possessed their martial skills from life, an undying body, and strength comparable to that of a monster.

“They are merely imitating martial arts.”

To an enlightened warrior, it was clear that they were nothing but empty shells.

“Hmph.”

Nevertheless, when masters of the 6th or 7th-tier who felt no physical pain repeatedly charged in to chip away at his stamina, there was little he could do.

“Haha, old man. Is this what they call a final burst of life?”

Amilcar mocked Heinz.

“Your elderly vigor is impressive, but this is as far as you go. I can feel your life force fading away in real time.”

“You bastard. Are you just testing the waters by sending in your underlings?”

Amilcar pointed at the old swordsman.

“That is strategy. When your strength is spent, I will be sure to end your life.”

Heinz could feel the mana seeping out of his heart, out of his body.

‘Is this it?’

The enemy was cunning and thorough.

They had detached sixty percent of their forces to guard their rear, showing their determination to retrieve the Ebony Oath, even if it meant every one of them died in the process.

‘They have no human heart.’

A commander without a human heart was this ruthless.

Furthermore, Amilcar’s name had long been known as the greatest in all of Flanders.

“To think that you, once an honorable and loyal knight, would sell out your master and covet greater power. You should be ashamed.”

“Hahaha.”

A small pentagram appeared in Amilcar’s eyes. It was the mark of demonic arts.

“Knighthood, vassalage, they are all just contractual relationships in the end. It is not so strange to renew the contract when better terms are offered.”

“Is that so? The children these days are so fickle.”

It was a lamentable situation.

If only he had another ten years, if only Siena had been here as a fully matured warrior, they might have been able to protect the Ebony Oath.

“Elder! Please, just fall back!”

The urgent voice of the Duke of Valkenhain, covered in blood, could be heard as he rushed over from a distance.

‘What a kind man. You were always a man who put family before the clan.’

The old swordsman smiled.

He dearly cherished the warmth of the Duke, who was young enough to be his grandson, but…

“I cannot do that, Clan Head.”

How could he forsake the clan’s oath to spare the life of a single old man?

“The Duke of Valkenhain is right about one thing. Step aside, old man. We will be taking back the Ebony Oath.” Newest update provided by novel✦fire.net

Heinz shook his head at Amilcar’s suggestion and said.

“If you desire it so much, then you may step over my corpse to get it.”

Amilcar finally drew his sword.

“If that is your wish, then I shall grant it.”

A dense, dark Sword Aura descended upon Heinz.

**

“Taeil’s Heaven-Cleaving Sword.”

Fwoooosh!

Scorching flames incinerated and cut down the enemies.

“Thank you, First Young Master!”

“Do not break formation. You’ll die if you get excited.”

“Yes, sir!”

Karl Grunewald was defending the coastline against those trying to land at all costs.

‘There are too many.’

His role was to buy as much time as possible against the endlessly swarming enemies, slowly giving ground.

‘So that our entire army does not collapse suddenly.’

The fact that the First Young Master was on a dangerous front line should have been an inspiring example, but Karl did not think so.

‘It is shameful that I cannot go to a more dangerous place.’

His gaze was fixed on a contingent of forces charging like a spear toward Grunewald’s main camp.

‘…This is not good.’

The Special Operations Division and the Royal Guard were moving to intercept, but with Gulbark himself opening the way, it was difficult to stop their momentum.

‘And what in the world are those things?’

Empty suits of armor were slaughtering the living.

‘Death Knights.’

They were ‘artificially created monsters,’ made by placing the souls of powerful warriors from life into magical vessels.

‘Their consciousness is gone, and they have lost much of their martial prowess from life, but…’

Their combat power was easily at the 6th-tier, or even higher.

With dozens of such beings, this was a force that could easily trample a small fiefdom.

‘It takes several units of the Special Operations Division just to stop a few of them.’

And such beings were now swinging their swords, standing protectively around the 8th-tier superhuman, Gulbark.

‘Against creatures like that, even Father and the Elders…’

They were bound to be in extreme danger.

.

.

.

With every wave of Geninghen’s hand, explosions, flames, lightning, and ice, along with massive chasms and gales, erupted, destroying the prosperous city and slaughtering the enemy.

‘This is why I didn’t want to fight out here.’

Homes, and the memories contained within them, were being destroyed.

The old archmage found it heartbreaking.

But he could not afford to hold back now.

“To resurrect the dead and use them as soldiers. You not only treat humans like ants but also desecrate their deaths.”

He looked at the archmage on the enemy side.

“Ragerian.”

He was a warlock and necromancer who had reached the 8th-tier.

“You shriveled-up sack of bones. You strut around calling this pathetic display magic?”

“Hahaha! Geninghen, the very essence of magic is to defy the natural order. What nonsense are you spouting?”

Ragerian.

He was a mage who had gained infamy in another country long ago before being subjugated.

“Has it been 30 years since you disappeared?”

“Twenty-five.”

Ragerian was so withered he could hardly be called human.

He resembled a skeleton with skin forcibly stretched over it.

“There was paradise in the place I fled to. I mastered all the sinister demonic arts the Exilos had gathered for hundreds of years and broke through the wall of the 8th-tier.”

Rumble-rumble-rumble

The corpses on the battlefield rose to their feet.

Warriors from the Black Society and Flanders, and even the fallen warriors of Grunewald.

“Come here, Geninghen.”

The king of the dead commanded.

“The body of one of the few remaining archmages in the world is a precious thing. I will leave only your heart and brain to use as experimental materials.”

Geninghen chanted a short spell, and rock spears and thorns shot up from the ground, impaling the bodies of the undead.

“Forgive me, you who are dead.”

Geninghen’s hand became even more ruthless.

“Since you feel no pain, I will show no mercy and wipe you out as quickly as possible.”

If he failed to stop the 8th-tier warlock, a tragedy incomparable to what Gelberich had caused would stain Grunewald with blood.

.

.

.

Leszek Grunewald was single-handedly battling an 8th-tier female swordmaster and the handful of experts accompanying her.

“…State your name.”

The spirit of the sword asked, and the female swordmaster with long, tied-back white hair answered.

“Sercadis.”

Leszek knew the owner of that name.

“…Have you come from the South?”

“I have.”

“It was said that there was a female swordmaster who made her name in the southern part of the continent, that she stained her title with blood to avenge her family.”

Leszek spoke the name that had vanished long ago.

“The Fairy of the Blood Moon.”

“It is an honor to have my name remembered by the greatest Sword Saint on the continent.”

A blood-red moon rose around her, and crescent-moon Sword Auras and full-moon mana descended upon him.

Swiiiiiish!

Her subordinates then rushed in, flanking him from all sides.

Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang!

But Leszek used Sword Control to command two floating swords, blocking her subordinates while simultaneously overwhelming the Fairy of the Blood Moon’s strikes.

“…Does that make any sense?”

“Absurd.”

Even the emotionless men in black, who had their feelings suppressed, muttered as such.

The martial arts of the Sword Saint, now revealed to the world, were truly a marvel.

“Death Knights.”

At Sercadis’s call, Death Knights charged forward.

The swords floating in the air spun in a circle, grinding them and their armor to pieces.

Kwagagagagaga!

But these were no ordinary foes.

Two Death Knights threw their bodies at one of the swords with all their might, and a warrior appearing from behind shattered it with a heavy sword.

“Hmph.”

Leszek then threw the sword in his hand, using Sword Control to pierce the warrior’s neck.

“Leszek. Have you gone mad, to throw away your sword?”

Sercadis’s sword swung towards Leszek.

“Don’t tell me.”

As Leszek reached for his waist in a drawing motion, a sword was suddenly in his hand.

“Mind Sword!”

The horrified Sercadis was blasted backward.

“…Cough.”

She had suffered internal injuries from the single strike that contained immense power.

“Get up, you hound of the Black Society.”

The sword that had flown through the air returned and wrapped itself around Leszek’s hand.

“I am curious to see how great the martial art you gained by entrusting yourself to the Black Society truly is.”

In that moment, the presence of Leszek Grunewald was not just dominating the battlefield; it was completely overwhelming it.

***

“Let’s go.”

We advanced, watching the flags of Duke Montera’s army.

“We’ve bought all the time we need.”

I said to my comrades.

“Our mission is simple. We become a shield of steel, block the enemy, and buy more time.”

But before that.

“I will take the vanguard myself and break the tip of the enemy’s spear.”

I led only my elite guard members and charged forward.

“You rat-like bastard, what are you scheming this time!”

Duke Montera, thoroughly enraged, sent out a knight who appeared to be a trusted confidant instead of going himself.

“Perfect.”

This was actually better.

An opponent of just the right level to be trampled had stepped forward to test the waters.

It wouldn’t be too difficult to break the enemy’s morale right from the start.

“Everyone, step back a little.”

I planned to capture their attention with the flashiest ultimate technique possible.

‘First, simultaneously scatter the powers of black flame, Dark Lightning, and Ice of the Darkest Night…’

A fucking bullshit mess of every technique I could use, packed into a single ultimate move.

It was a hodgepodge of tricks that was embarrassing to even name, but it’s always better to give things a cool name.

Therefore, the name of this technique is…

“Resplendent Falling Flowers.”

Ice and fire and lightning and a flurry of sword energy scattered across the battlefield, following the explosive wave of mana.

KWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]