Chapter 302
Chapter 302
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP. 63 – A Knight's Valor Knows No Recklessness (12)
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...A sizzling sound filled the air as the acrid smell of burning spread thickly.
It seemed like the thinnest of veils at a glance, yet the moment the great evil spirit touched it, it pushed back fiercely. In an instant, like a chemical reaction, its hand began to burn away bit by bit.
However, even as its hand burned, the great evil spirit remained utterly expressionless. It simply withdrew its hand as if testing things out for a moment, then slowly regenerated.
"So this is how you wield spirit power? A novel approach. To harm even the Lord's body... Hm, this is no power granted to humans. It won't last long before it crumbles on its own."
Having merely touched it briefly to observe, the great evil spirit leisurely allowed the Shield of Hundred Ghosts to recover.
"What a verbose excuse that you can't pierce this barrier."
And there was Cain, mocking his foe from a single step away...
"Indeed, I can't pierce it. Forcing the issue would only harm this body. I've already lost one arm and shamed the Lord—do you think I'd risk more wounds?"
"......"
"But fear not. The moment this barrier falls, I'll rip out your irreverent head first."
He laid out the threat calmly yet chillingly, and Cain let out a hollow laugh.
"Even one once called a god resorts to petty threats, Ninshubur."
"...So it was Mordred who taught that perilous hero my name."
"Know your enemy to claim victory."
In truth, Mordred had invested vast time and resources, dispatching agents to the western continent.
They hired countless archaeologists, explorers, and alchemists to delve into lost ancient histories.
In the process, they uncovered ancient knowledge and artifacts forgotten even by the westerners, yielding Mordred numerous achievements.
Most notably, they gained recipes for new gunpowder and hints for inventing flame cannons. Further, Mordred secured unique powers like the [Alloy Armor], [Phantom Steeds], and Shield of Hundred Ghosts—boasts of the current era.
Having poured ages into slaying mighty foes, they had grown strong accordingly.
In a way, it resembled Tristan's collection of hunting secrets from across the continent, along with myriad poisons and medical techniques.
"All for killing you, Inanna—you, the 'Warrior of Betrayal' more vile than that wretched thing."
"...You truly let your mouth run wild."
"Why? Regretting the past now, cowardly traitor...?"
BAM!!!
In that instant, Ninshubur could no longer hold back and slammed the barrier with all his might.
Of course,
SIZZLE!!
His hand burned away again from the impact, but the tremendous shock rattled the fortress, hastening the cracks.
The footing grew unstable now, as if collapse was imminent.
"Don't provoke me too far. I'm proceeding cautiously to spare this body harm—it's not fear of this pathetic barrier."
"Good, provocation confirmed."
"!!"
Ninshubur's eyelids twitched.
Knowing his origins stirred far more displeasure than expected.
"Ugh...!"
Perhaps pleased to see his foe shaken, Cain deliberately provoked further.
The key to handling evil spirits...
"Minion of the great evil spirit Inanna, Ninshubur—the mystery governing war among the divinities of abundance and battle. You betrayed your former lord and king of the southern gods, the Lord of the Heavens, siding with Inanna instead. His wrath doomed you at age fifteen. One might pity your turbulent life, but even in death, you became Inanna's limb, slaughtering countless innocents at her command without mercy or thought. A mindless killer obeying divine orders. You're no war god—you're merely a wicked spawn turned from man to demon! You vile devil of massacre!!"
"Shut your mouth—!"
KABOOM!!
Was to dissect them with [Truth].
'Yes, this is what I hoped for.'
Ninshubur, who had maintained icy composure even in crushing defeat to Knight Santa, finally flew into a rage for the first time. Cain clenched his fist involuntarily.
'It worked!'
His life-risking gamble had paid off.
'Called a god or not, it's just a lingering spirit in the end.'
One crucial aspect of exorcism rituals: uncovering the spirit's true name.
Weaker spirits falter at their mortal name alone, subdued outright. Even stronger ones yield half the battle if you know their true name.
And possessing even so-called divine lore? Not quite checkmate, but a solid check.
'The finest [Word Spirit] of my life.'
To spirit mediums, words were blades—hence, Word Spirit.
Yet wielding it demanded piercing insight into origins and true names; inaccuracies could doom the medium instead.
Especially against mighty spirits, caution was paramount—a gamble flirting with death.
But...
'Over three centuries of effort weren't in vain!'
This was no mere bet—the fruition of his forebears' and their ancestors' endless war against this evil spirit.
It was a blade tempered to perfection.
"...Whew."
Tears nearly welled up, but Cain held them back.
The ritual wasn't over. With Ninshubur stripped of reason, now was the moment to press—
STAB!
"Gahk...!"
"My lord!!!"
His vigilant adjutant screamed.
Cain's chest had been pierced, blood gushing forth.
"...Even gods prove spineless."
SLASH!
Cain swung his sword at the one who pierced his chest.
Contrary to the demon's taunts of lacking talent, his movements shone with exquisite grace. His blade struck true!
"...Huh?"
"I must be truly distracted. I've never raised any such adjutant."
"M-my lord...?"
"Spare me the nonsense, monster. My comrade would never pierce my chest."
SHRIIIK!
The so-called adjutant's head flew clean off, his body melting away.
"...Doppleganger."
A monster mimicking human form, wielding brainwashing to fool perceptions—even convincing itself it was human. Repulsively, it slew without hesitation while pitying its victims sincerely.
Hence the screams after stabbing him.
"What a fool I am..."
Even knowing it was a doppleganger, Cain couldn't shake the chagrin of being duped, a bitter smile escaping.
Yet the foe, witnessing his self-loathing...
...It was a profoundly chilling sight.
"Forgive me, my Lord."
"Ahh..."
Inanna and Ninshubur's voices mingled into a horrific cacophony, but Cain saw it.
Seemingly tenderly embracing her servant, yet the great evil spirit's 'true form' loomed like it might devour Ninshubur any second—a colossal mass.
'What... what the hell is that...!?'
Six beautiful wings adorned it, but dozens of eyes and mouths studded the flesh like grotesque ornaments.
Abhorrent, barely classifiable as life.
Cain inwardly thanked the gods the soldiers couldn't see it.
...Their morale would shatter.
Only spirit-sighted eyes beheld the great evil spirit's true shape; the blind to it remained spared.
A true mercy.
'If that thing revives in a perfect body, what then?'
Even its spectral form chilled him to urge gouging his eyes! Primal terror incited wrist-slitting urges, escalating to pounding headaches.
Just gazing tainted the mind!
'That's a god?'
No, that was!
"A demon..."
The truth slipped from his lips unbidden.
"......"
"You vile spawn!! Dare not speak my daughter's name...!!!"
WHOOSH!
In that instant, as its six wings unfurled, anomalies struck the monsters.
BOOM!
Dozens of monster heads exploded in a flash.
To ordinary eyes, it seemed spontaneous—but the spirit-sighted witnessed it:
Beams scattering like pollen from the great evil spirit's wings caused the blasts.
Was it deliberately culling them...? No!
GROOOWL!
Maggot-like things clung to the corpses like flies on rot, devouring flesh to swell in size.
The powder the great evil spirit scattered consumed meat, blood, and bone without trace, growing at ludicrous speeds.
Utterly defying biology.
WHOOOOSH!
The matured maggots formed an insect horde.
A legion blending the ants and wolves they'd fought endlessly.
"......"
"......"
"...Ha."
The monster numbers, briefly culled, surged anew.
To 600,000—a threefold swell from the initial wave.
Hollow laughs turned to crashing despair.
WHIRR...
The Shield of Hundred Ghosts—Mordred's ultimate secret—began to wane.
Its limit approached, mirroring their desperation.
Guns, cannons, powder long depleted.
Soldiers exhausted in the trap.
Knight Commanders still locked in grueling clashes with chimeras.
...The steadfast man fought his solitary battle.
"......"
They had reached their limits.
The great evil spirit grinned.
As if proffering an irresistible offer.
Its dozens of mouths cackled wildly, the flesh quivering.
As if even it was moved by its own mercy.
"......"
Cain appeared dazed at a glance.
Sword still lodged in his chest, stamina and strength at their ends.
Every recourse exhausted.
No one would blame despair; they'd console him as justified.
...Yet still.
CRACK.
SHING.
He straightened his bowed back.
Blood streaming like rivers, he rose once more.
And raised his sword.
"Even in death, I'll die as a man."
"Not foolish. We..."
Mordred's warriors, facing the overwhelming horde, raised swords and spears with roars.
Cain's sons hauled weary bodies upright, eyes blazing fiercely.
As if surrender was unknown.
Even with certain defeat and death closing in.
"...fight only to uphold our [Pride]."
To be proud of themselves.
The creed a valiant knight had restored to Mordred.
WHOOSH!
"Come at me, you damned demon!! Even if you kill me! Ghost or not, I'll slay you—!"
He bellowed his resolve, and Mordred roared in response to their lord's defiance.
Honorable, valiant.
Witnessing this,
The great evil spirit pouted in disgust.
These wretched, insignificant lives rejecting its mercy—nay, daring to brandish blades—infinitely contemptible.
"But the damage to the Lord's sacred flesh...!"
"...Understood."
Nodding to the great evil spirit's command, Ninshubur hammered the Shield of Hundred Ghosts relentlessly.
BAM! KABOOM!
The barrier rang out repeatedly; Ninshubur's body scorched, yet he ignored it.
With divine sanction, he'd pound on.
Moreover, monsters charged in support.
THUD THUD THUD!
"A minute—no, ten seconds at most."
The already frail barrier, battered by Ninshubur's barrage, neared breaking; with the horde closing, endurance was impossible.
"In the end... not even an hour."
Held for over an hour? Barely this long?
Truly...
'Sorry, Knight Santa. Couldn't keep the promise.'
Recalling his plea to hold just 'one hour,' Cain smiled bitterly.
Thus, he—a wretch failing family, folk, and oath.
Utterly pathetic...
"—No, splendidly done, Margrave Cain."
KABOOOOOM!
...Monsters scattered in the blast.
"......?"
Cain tilted his head.
Unable at first to grasp what happened.
But soon,
THUD.
"Long time, Cain. Holding up?"
"Near twenty years."
"Where's Sir Garok? Comrades arrive sans welcome—what's this?"
"...!!"
He gaped in shock.
The newcomers patting his shoulder—faces unforgettable, decades on.
And shortly after their arrival, hoofbeats approached from the fortress rear. Turning, Cain spied five soaring banners.
One entwining dragon and white lion.
Black-armored black lion.
Lake and fairy.
Red eagle and arrows.
Solitary iron sword.
Unmistakably...
"White Silver Lion Knights: 150. Black Iron Lion: 80. Blue-Green Unicorn: 60. Crimson Blood Eagle: 50. Open contingent: 100. How's that for reinforcements?"
"......"
"Still the same. Haven't aged a day. Five-year vacation?"
"...Ha, you've gained humor unlike old days, Princess."
"Not princess. Crown Princess now!"
"...Ha."
Cain couldn't help a hollow laugh at Isis the Crown Princess after so long.
Not from absurdity, but...
'What on earth did you summon?'
His reinforcements too formidable, awe-inspiring.
Cain fell speechless in admiration.
Meanwhile, the summoner herself...
"...Auntie, why so late?"
Grumbled in dissatisfaction.
Tardy classmate woes.