Chapter 41
Chapter 41
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 41
Chapter Title: Emperor of the Sky (3)
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One month.
A span of time too short to call long—in fact, quite brief. Yet who could have predicted it?
That in such a fleeting period, the entire territory would be reduced to utter ruins without a single exception.
My vision blurred as if shrouded in thick fog, my focus continually wavering.
In a half-conscious daze, I absorbed every detail of my crushing failure.
The village, the farmlands, even the sturdy fortress... nothing was spared. Screams bloomed like flowers amid the wreckage.
The instant that familiar scream reached me, I was already charging forward without a second thought.
There was no need for it. The horrific scene unfolding before me was the price of my defeat. Time would rewind.
But even if time turned back. Even if I lived again.
'I can't just stand by and watch them die...!!!'
Yet my body refused to obey my will. The leg mangled by falling rocks finally tore clean off.
Dirt flooded my mouth. I'd tumbled messily across the ground, letting soil in. And right then.
A dull thud—something dropping—rang out piercingly sharp, like an arrow's whistle. Or was it my imagination?
I forced my rigid neck to turn. Blood-caked blonde hair tangled every which way, crimson streaming from her eyes like tears.
Even she, dubbed the Heaven's Net, couldn't foresee her own death?
Her eyes, caught off guard, seemed to weep bloody tears as if still alive.
"......"
I stomped the remnant of my severed leg into the dirt and rose once more. Agony seared like firebrand.
The situation was hopeless. The territory's sole defending army had been annihilated long ago.
The scattered remnants and powerless civilians were mere prey, doomed to be devoured...
A massacre too gruesome to witness with open eyes—yet I refused to look away, etching my failure into my soul.
"Even with those lost legs, you rise again. At the very least, I must acknowledge that tenacity."
"......You."
"Ruler of the wyverns, Emperor of the Sky—what you call the Wyvern Lord. To kin, the Present King."
A colossal frame defying description save as a mountain. At least twice the size of lesser wyverns.
Black scales sheathed its body entire, blood-red eyes gleaming with intellect and arrogance intertwined.
At length, the Present King gazed down upon me with haughty eyes and parted its jaws.
"The weak fall prey to the strong. That is nature's law... harbor no grudges."
Its enormous, monstrous maw loomed close enough to engulf me whole—my sole chance.
Ignoring my body's limit-screams, I wrung every shred of strength and swung my greatsword at its gaping throat.
And... a hideous metallic shriek erupted as iron shattered. Fangs pulverized the blade like brittle pastry and impaled me.
Frail human flesh could never withstand jaws that crunched steel with ease.
Yet amid limbs rent asunder and entrails yanked free in torment, I kept my eyes wide, mind unyielding to the last.
'Is that so...? Survival of the fittest? The weak devoured by the strong as natural order? Then I'll grind you to bits myself.'
I memorized every mistake I'd made, every exorbitant toll exacted.
Memories of my people slaughtered or devoured still mercilessly flayed my heart even now.
But without reflection on past failures, repetition was inevitable.
And the moment my final breath escaped, as ever, I opened my eyes anew.
"Shouldn't we prioritize the necromancers first?"
"Agreed. Even if we subjugate the wyverns first, nothing stops the necromancers from using the corpses."
"......"
I'm alive. Undeniably so. Everyone breathing, even moving about.
The harrowing failure flashed back, emotion surging, but I swallowed it and spoke.
No time, alas, for exhaustive detail.
"We subjugate the wyverns first."
"Any particular reason?"
"Four days from now, the wyverns invade Lenheim Territory first."
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Four days.
Cain's claim that wyverns would strike in a mere four days sent shockwaves through the room.
Among the assembled nobles, only one remained unflustered: Morgana.
Her sun-bright golden locks curved in stunning arcs.
"So wyverns, not necromancers, will assault Lenheim Fortress."
"Precisely, Your Highness. They're allies, and this territory is already their claimed domain."
"Domain... don't tell me that's why...?"
I nodded gravely. A motive beyond my wildest initial guesses.
Our initial necromancer focus was straightforward: their litany of crimes—noble slayings, imperial deceptions—and the tactical risk of wyvern corpses fueling their ranks if prioritized otherwise.
"But necromancers could foresee that... so they outsourced to wyvern allies?"
"Exactly. We'd suffer devastating surprise losses mid-necromancer preparations."
We'd made minimal countermeasures, of course. But against the Emperor of the Sky?
Such token efforts proved utterly futile to the sovereign of the heavens.
I paid dearly for my overconfidence. One lingering puzzle: where were the necromancers?
'Allies, supposedly... yet absent in my past life. What game are they playing?'
Perhaps wyverns alone sufficed, no intervention needed.
We'd been obliterated unilaterally by wyvern barrage, after all... hardly a flawed call.
Mid-thoughts, Princess Morgana flushed pink.
"Th-that intense staring... it's a little embarrassing..."
"......Ah. My apologies, Your Highness."
I'd unconsciously fixated on her face. Damn it.
Past life's vivid horrors clung tenaciously, tormenting me despite fresh rebirth.
Her decapitated neck lingered curse-like, indelible.
'Just four days... I must find a way.'
Prior wyvern clash exposed my limits starkly. Powerless blade couldn't so much as scratch.
A wall akin to Grandel's. Like defying storm or tsunami through mortal striving alone.
Expert... at minimum, Sword User realm to stand a chance.
Fortune smiled: no solitary toil this time. Stalwart aid at hand.
"Princess Morgana, might I entrust wyvern countermeasures to you and Princess Anna?"
"Leave it to us! I'll handle it flawlessly on my end!"
"Thank you for the trust."
"You're my assistant, remember? As-sis-tant!"
Ordinarily, veteran me would command directly—but no such luxury against this foe.
In essence... I had to maximize my strength.
A scant four days, yet ten regressions yielded forty; a hundred, over a year.
With all dispersed to roles, only Grandel and I lingered in the training yard, facing off.
"Never imagined allying with foe-turned-Sir Blackguard, blades aligned toward one goal."
"The sentiment is mutual."
"Well then, what piques your curiosity? My humble form notwithstanding, I'll impart what I can."
"How exactly does one slay a wyvern?"
Grandel faltered briefly at the unforeseen query, then gathered his thoughts calmly.
Wyverns' one-sided high-altitude strikes neared impossibility sans mage,
but Experts onward could javelin them within visible range.
"Records exist of aura-laced arrows felling them, though rare outliers. Javelins dominate the annals."
"I see."
"Even the Empire's founding emperor—its first Master—hurled a spear, mounted mid-flight, and slew one atop it."
I nearly snorted at Grandel's account.
No matter the prowess... that bordered on madness.