Chapter 197
Chapter 197
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 197
Chapter Title: 60. Lighting the Fire (3)
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I deflected the lightning bolt charging in with a thunderous roar. I cleaved through the flames surging forth as if to devour me whole. I utterly shattered the spear of ice and snow hurtling straight for my heart.
Behind the translucent barrier stood the mages.
Some had gone pale as ghosts, others twisted in agony, and still more glared with eyes bulging as if about to burst.
The mages wore different expressions, but the emotion flickering across all their faces was the same.
Disbelief. Astonishment.
They never dreamed their spells would be broken by a few sword swings.
But what could they do? There was more to shock them.
I slashed my sword from above downward.
Splat.
The shield woven from magic tore apart like paper.
Beyond the scattering fragments of mana, the mages cried out, their faces drained of color.
"Paladin!"
Amid their pleasing screams slithered a sound like a snake flicking its tongue.
At the same moment, three streaks of sword light flashed.
But I had already left that spot, standing now before the one mage among the five who hadn't cast a spell—the old sorcerer.
His deeply wrinkled eyes fixed on me.
Pupils shaking as if an earthquake had struck.
Leathery lips twitching ceaselessly.
Two hands tracing complex patterns in the air.
Compared to Hyreichi Ophelia, the mysterious magus who had sniped me from Dotrin's floods, he might seem like a child. But the old man was undeniably a being who had set foot in the realm of magic arts.
"A magus, eh."
My words made the mage flinch, his lips moving even faster.
Vroooom.
A massive wave began swirling around the old sorcerer, heralding the spell's near completion.
The old magus hadn't even finished his incantation yet. The magic hadn't taken form.
Yet I knew in an instant.
A spell far more powerful than the ones I'd just dispersed was about to manifest in this world.
The flames, ice, and lightning had been mere probes.
The translucent barrier was just a failsafe precaution.
The real threat was the old magus's spell.
No doubt, once it activated, this whole area would turn into hell.
The mana he had gathered held that much power.
I was even curious what kind of magic he was preparing.
Unfortunately, I had no way to find out.
His incantation would remain forever unfinished.
Slice.
The magus's head, severed from his body, rolled across the ground.
Rumble rumble.
The mana he had desperately amassed until his final breath roiled violently.
Boom!
And exploded.
The battle ended in moments.
The empire's mages were neutralized by the explosion from the old magus's death, falling helplessly before our blades.
The empire's paladins and knights resisted fiercely but only bought a brief delay.
The paladin who had slung the dazed 3rd Prince over his shoulder and fled amid the blast's shock barely fought before Percival stabbed him in the back. The other imperial knights likewise had their throats slit by me and our knights.
It was an embarrassingly easy victory, unbelievable for a force including a paladin and a magus.
They weren't supposed to fall so pathetically.
Had they fought properly, these powerhouses would have spilled rivers of blood from our kingdom's knights and soldiers.
But they perished as cold corpses rolling on the ground without unleashing their true might.
The only survivor was that fool of a 3rd Prince.
"No other injuries. Seems he's just unconscious. Or rather, at this point, we could call it sleeping."
Percival reported after checking the 3rd Prince.
Just as he said.
Listening closely, I heard steady snoring.
To devour his nation's talents in one go and still sleep so soundly... It was revolting.
But having him like this was far better for me.
If he were awake, I'd have a headache playing along with his antics.
The 3rd Prince, with zero sense, might invoke our sworn brotherhood in this mess and pull some nonsense. He was exactly the type.
Of course, my head still ached now.
Destroying the empire's force including paladin and magus was welcome news, but the problem was how to send the 3rd Prince back.
Leaving him alone felt unnatural. Waiting here for imperial reinforcements to rescue him would take too long.
Fortunately, Percival had a solution.
His subordinates were imperial natives, perfect for playing the role of surviving forces rescuing the prince. They could pretend to fight, let him escape dramatically, and the imperials would assume frontline remnants sacrificed to save him.
No better ideas coming to mind, I agreed to Percival's plan.
As I waited for him to return from the fortress with his old subordinates, the 3rd Prince groaned.
He'd wake soon if left alone, so I jabbed his nape with my scabbard.
Thud, and he passed out again.
"Huh?"
I tilted my head at the unconscious fool.
The moment I struck his nape, an inexplicable energy touched me.
Strange.
The guy I knew was a dullard with barely apprentice knight-level mana.
Yet the energy I felt was several times fiercer.
On a hunch, I used [Appraisal Authority].
And was stunned.
[Apostle of the Full Moon]
An item I hadn't seen before was boldly listed in his trait window.
I knew it well.
Those bizarre beings, neither human nor beast, I'd encountered in Dotrin's vast forests.
Ferocious hunters spreading the plague of mutation.
[Apostle of the Full Moon] referred to the half-human, half-beasts serving the Plague Lord.
"This guy's infected?"
Guessing where the 3rd Prince caught the Full Moon plague was easy.
Dotrin's floods, where we'd stayed for a while, had long become territory ruled by the Full Moon clan.
Innate traits [Heavenly Slayer Star] and [Calamity Bringer]. Now [Apostle of the Full Moon] too.
Not surprising so much as absurd.
Absurd to the point of awe.
Of ten infected by the Full Moon plague, nine die mid-mutation. One survivor completes the change into a half-beast. And of a hundred fully mutated, one becomes an [Apostle of the Full Moon], gaining feral vitality.
A rarity rarer than one in a thousand.
And the one who beat those odds to become an Apostle was this idiot before me.
What a coincidence.
I examined him closely again.
And realized.
Absurdly, he'd gained only one of the many abilities an [Apostle of the Full Moon] possesses.
Not the hunter's [Tenacity], nor the predator's [Berserk].
Not the Full Moon warriors' [Resilience], nor the half-beasts' [Feral Instinct].
Just [Plague God's Vitality].
Regeneration healing most wounds instantly, and lifespan twice or more that of a human. That alone.
Beating those odds for just [Plague God's Vitality].
Was this good luck or bad? Hard to say.
After much thought, I concluded.
"Perfect."
No more worrying this thundercloud-headed fool might die to a stray blade on the battlefield.
With [Plague God's Vitality], he wouldn't die from ordinary stabs.
Still, to be sure, I tested it.
I drew Dusky and nicked his forearm.
Sizzle sizzle.
White foam bubbled up, and the long gash healed in moments.
No scar on the pale skin. I smiled in satisfaction.
The kingdom's hope grew sturdier.
The empire's disaster became tougher.
Not bad for me.
I ran a few more tests on the 3rd Prince's body when Percival returned from the fortress, leading dozens of men.
Soldiers from the Malkoi Legion, recently kingdom prisoners.
As pre-arranged, we added fake battle scars.
"Let's start."
Once ready, we began pretending to clash fiercely.
Of course, pointless without witnesses, so I woke the 3rd Prince.
Thwack!
A bit roughly.
"Ugh."
But true to an [Apostle of the Full Moon], he shook it off.
"Your Highness! Flee! We'll buy time!"
Percival shouted at the dazed prince watching blankly in his disheveled robes. Perfect imperial tongue, no doubt.
"You all...!"
"No time for introductions! Get out of here! We'll guard your retreat with our lives!"
Percival cried heroically.
The 3rd Prince's face hardened briefly.
A flash of annoyance— even now, Percival's intensity irked him.
But the dim prince knew escape came first, so he turned and ran. Wrong direction— toward the kingdom's fortress, not imperial mainland.
Impatient subordinates grabbed him, pointed the way, and "died" sword-struck.
"I will remember you all!"
The prince halted, moved by his own words, then turned and fled without looking back.
Watching his back, we clashed swords half-heartedly for sound effects, then stopped.
"Never thought I'd stoop to this."
Belated self-loathing hit.
We exchanged awkward glances, sheathed swords, and returned to the fortress.
There, I briefed Malkoi on events.
He was shocked the 3rd Prince had shown for such a risky scout.
"Told you. That's the guy."
Malkoi looked pained by the unpredictable prince too.
Feeling bad for just worries, I shared good news.
"Don't worry. He won't die easily now."
Explaining his new ability, Malkoi marveled.
But briefly— soon he schemed new uses for the kingdom's tougher hope.
"We'll make him a hero. No worry of frontline wounds sidelining him now."
"Go easy. Kill him for real, and we're in trouble."
I warned, heading out, but Malkoi stopped me.
"If Your Highness noticed, won't the Emperor learn of the prince's change soon?"
I nodded.
No appraisal like mine, but the Emperor had insight to read people.
He'd spot odd changes in his own blood easily.
"The Emperor wouldn't care if the 3rd Prince turned half-beast or dog."
Still, I wasn't worried about him.
Not vague feeling, but conviction.
From facing the Emperor in the capital's heart, enduring his gaze and aura for days, I'd gauged his nature.
"Maybe just a hunch, but he seemed indifferent who becomes emperor."
Otherwise, he'd have culled the future threat early.
"Could be. He calls it friendly rivalry, but fanning competition that might turn fratricidal..."
Malkoi agreed.
But we needed to worry about the war, not the Emperor's unknowable mind.
Soon after the 3rd Prince left, imperial legions crossed the border.
Battles erupted everywhere.
On imperial soil, Arwen and Ilai rampaged madly; on kingdom land, imperials did the same.
Amid biting winds, even this sorrowful season neared its end.
And spring finally arrived.
"Your Highness! Some Sky Knights who sailed with the Eastern Fleet have returned!"
Every year, spring peeked shyly like a fresh girl or timid boy at winter's end. This year, it stormed in violently.