Chapter 331: Kill the Sword Saint (2)
Chapter 331: Kill the Sword Saint (2)
The moment the Sword King’s palm struck his body, the Sword Saint was reminded of the blow he had once received from Patrick. He instinctively twisted his torso, narrowly avoiding the brunt of the impact.
As a result…
“Cough… Better than last time, at least.”
He wasn't completely incapacitated yet, even if he was spitting up blood. But the real problem started now.
Before him stood the still-formidable Overlord and a newly appeared, mysterious swordsman.
“This is a goddamn mess.”
He was glad his disciples weren't around to hear him. Such crude language was hardly fitting for a man considered the idol of every knight on the continent.
However, it was an accurate assessment of the situation.
The Sword Saint could tell. The Overlord was a burdensome foe, but not an insurmountable one. But this new swordsman…
Where on earth did such a monster come from?
He couldn't even gauge the man's strength. It wasn't a question of whether he could win; he doubted he could even buy much time.
And he was the Sword Saint.
Looking at the man was like staring at a massive mountain—a peak so high its summit was lost in the clouds, far beyond reach.
If this were merely a personal defeat, he could simply accept it. But this was a battlefield. His defeat here would mean the defeat of the entire Allied Forces.
The Sword Saint glanced briefly at his surroundings.
“Garcia!”
“Yes! You called, Grandfather?”
Garcia rushed to his side at the call, raising his sword to guard against the enemies as he stood before the Sword Saint. Looking at his grandson’s back, the Sword Saint’s expression grew wistful.
You’ve grown so much.
His own flesh and blood, the precious heir who had fully inherited the family’s sword. The little boy whose head hadn't even reached his thigh was now standing before him on a battlefield, shielding his back.
In that moment, the Sword Saint became certain of his decision.
“Lend me your sword,” he said to Garcia.
“Pardon?”
“Hurry.”
Startled by his grandfather’s stern demand, Garcia hesitated before handing over his blade. The Sword Saint took his grandson’s sword and, in exchange…
“Take this.”
“Grand—no, Duke?”
What the Sword Saint held out was his own beloved blade and the national treasure of the Empire: Benator. It had been painstakingly repaired after being damaged in his duel with Patrick.
He was handing it to his grandson.
Realizing the weight of this gesture, Garcia’s face turned pale.
“Take the entire army and retreat,” the Sword Saint commanded. “The Yuzef Kingdom’s hidden strength is greater than expected. We must live to fight another day.”
“Grandfather, then you…”
“I will buy you time.”
“…”
“Now, go.”
Hearing those words, Garcia shouted back, “I’ll stay and fight instead! You should escape, Grandfather!”
“…”
“What the Empire needs right now is the Sword Saint, not me! Strategically speaking, isn't it obvious who should stay?”
“Garcia.”
The Sword Saint looked at his grandson with a gentle gaze.
“In the moment of death, what a man must leave behind is not his achievements, but the future.”
“…”
“So, go.”
With those final words, the Sword Saint pushed his grandson aside and began to walk forward, his footsteps heavy and deliberate.
It was a path toward certain defeat. He knew he was walking toward his death, yet he did not falter.
Garcia reached out, wanting to grab his grandfather’s hand, but…
Grit.
He couldn't. Knowing the resolve behind his grandfather’s decision, he had to do what was required of him.
Garcia raised the national treasure of the Empire high into the air and roared.
“All forces, retreat!”
His voice cracked with blood and sorrow as he screamed out the Sword Saint’s final command.
* * *
“Thanks for waiting.”
Having said his farewells to his grandson, the Sword Saint faced his enemies once more.
The Overlord and the mysterious swordsman. Neither showed even a flicker of emotion on their faces.
They’ve likely been subjected to something by the Dark Mages.
It was a shame. It would have been an honor to have such a magnificent swordsman grace his final moments, but it was truly regrettable that the man’s mind was not his own.
Nothing can be done about it, I suppose.
Still, he had to do what he could.
The Sword Saint ignited an Aura Blade to its absolute limit on his sword. Then, with a sudden, faint smirk, he extended one hand forward and beckoned.
“Well then… come at me.”
Imitating the younger generation felt a bit embarrassing. Or perhaps the problem was imitating that one particular man who was such a total bastard?
But he had wanted to try it at least once.
The moment the Sword Saint finished speaking, the mysterious swordsman and the Overlord lunged forward simultaneously.
The Sword Saint did not hold back either, springing forward to meet them.
KABOOM!
Pouring every ounce of his being into the strike, the Sword Saint engaged them.
* * *
“Retreat…? Why are we retreating?”
“It is the Sword Saint’s order!”
“The Sword Saint’s?”
“The Imperial soldiers are already pulling back! If we stay, we’ll just be surrounded and annihilated!”
“Dammit… fine!”
The commander of the Allied Forces shouted at the top of his lungs.
“All forces, retreat! Knights, guard the rear!”
“Retreat! Fall back!”
As the orders spread, the Allied Forces began to pull back like a receding tide.
To be honest, many questioned why they had to retreat when the battle still seemed evenly matched. However, with the Imperial Army already withdrawing, staying behind meant certain death.
To preserve as much of their strength as possible during the withdrawal, powerful units were stationed at the rear. Naturally, this included the Tower of Truth and the forces of the Duchy of Schneider.
“A retreat, huh…”
Upon receiving the order, April thought for a moment before moving immediately. In this moment of retreat, her first priority was her own people.
The knights and soldiers would withdraw efficiently according to the chain of command. As for the Elves…
“Retreat! We are falling back!”
“Push them back with spirits! Respond with arrows if the enemy pursues!”
They were doing exceptionally well. However, her biggest concern was…
“Uwoooooo!”
“Waaaaaaaagh!”
“Oooooh!”
The army consisted of 80% Orcs and 20% humans fighting alongside them. Despite receiving the retreat order, they were continuing to fight ferociously. In fact, they seemed to be trying to push even deeper into enemy lines.
Trying to calm Orcs once their bloodlust was ignited was like trying to soothe a rabid beast.
“Tsk.”
April clicked her tongue and dashed forward. Moving like a streak of lightning across the battlefield, bypassing friend and foe alike, her destination was…
“Uwooooo! I am Tutan, the Great Warrior of the Red Rock Tribe!”
It was the spot where Tutan was fighting like a madman, even while surrounded by a swarm of enemy knights.
When April arrived, Tutan was facing off against three enemy knights, with two others already lying torn to pieces at his feet.
He really has grown strong.
Compared to when she first met him… no, the current Tutan was beyond comparison. But no matter how much he had evolved, continuing to fight here instead of retreating was foolish.
“Lord Tutan.”
“I am the brave warrior, Tutaaaan!”
“Lord Tutan.”
“Today’s battle shall be remembered for all my life!”
“…Lord Tutan.”
“Uwoooooooo!”
It was no use. He wasn't even listening. April decided she had to stop his combat actions first. For her, that was an easy task.
Unlimited: Deployment.
Clang! Shing!
Terrifying Aura Blades erupted from the twin swords in her hands. Then…
“Die.”
Twin Dragons Eight Sword Styles.
Second Style.
Great Dragon Cross Sword.
A massive cruciform slash, looking as if it would rend the entire battlefield asunder, flew toward the knights Tutan was fighting. Tutan himself was also caught slightly within the attack’s range.
“Uwoooo—Gah!”
The three enemy knights and the great Orc warrior Tutan were all swept up in the attack.
KABOOM!
Having neutralized the enemies in an instant, April approached Tutan, who was face-down in the dirt.
Pop!
Tutan pulled his head out of the ground like a man harvesting a radish. Spitting dirt from his mouth, he grumbled.
“Pah! Pah! Who is it? Who dares to launch such a cowardly surprise attack on me?”
“It’s me.”
“You dare… Sister-in-law?”
“…”
The moment he looked at April, the bloodlust and madness in Tutan’s eyes vanished, replaced by a look of sudden, extreme politeness.
April spoke. “We are retreating.”
“Sister-in-law, a true warrior does not retreat,” Tutan argued passionately.
His blood was already boiling. How could he withdraw from a battle whose outcome hadn't even been decided? This was a grave insult to the identity of the Orcs, a race of warriors—
“Do you want to retreat? Or do you want to die?”
“Retreat! Fall back!”
Identity be damned, survival came first. The Orcs also began to withdraw like a receding tide.
April remained alone at the rear for a moment, staring intently in one direction. Where her gaze landed…
Boom! Crash! Bang!
Terrifying energies were exploding and clashing. Each one belonged to a powerhouse even she couldn't take lightly.
But one of those energies was flickering precariously, as if it might go out at any moment. In fact, it wouldn't have been strange if it had crumbled and collapsed long ago. And yet…
BOOM!
It was holding on. Burning through the last of its life force, risking everything.
“I won't let it be in vain.”
April bowed her head slightly toward that direction before making her own escape.
The battle took place on July 1, 1531.
On this day, the Allied Forces were defeated by the Yuzef Kingdom and the Dark Mages, forced into a major retreat.
However, despite the scale of the battle, the total number of casualties was not as high as expected. This was thanks to the Sword Saint, who accurately gauged the enemy’s strength and issued a swift retreat order, sacrificing his own life to stay behind and hold the line.
But the price was the loss of the continent’s greatest knight.
The Sword Saint of the Empire.
Duke Carlos Dante Reinardo.
Deceased during the First Outer God War.
* * *
High in the volcanic region of the Great Forest, Pabera.
There, Patrick was looking up at the stars in the night sky with a furrowed brow. He watched the movement of the constellations as they collided and vanished repeatedly.
The moment one particularly large star fell toward the earth, Patrick closed his eyes tightly.
“The Sword Saint…”
He knew. Just by reading the constellations, he could tell what chaos was unfolding on the continent and how desperately those he was connected to were struggling against a desperate fate.
He knew because the current Patrick was, for all intents and purposes, a demigod.
“Dammit, there’s nothing good about this, is there?”
What was the point of being able to read destiny and the state of the world through the stars if he was stuck here?
“Master.”
Persona, his disciple, appeared behind him.
“They say the preparations are complete. You may enter now.”
“Took them long enough, dammit.”
“Given the nature of the task, I suppose my uncle had no choice.”
“No choice, my foot. He’s just getting slow… Ugh, I’m wasting time just nagging.”
Patrick scratched his head irritably. He began walking into the cave where the Four Calamities had originally resided.
“Let’s hurry. Time is short.”
“Yes, Master.”
In this moment where everyone was fighting their own desperate battles, Patrick wasn't just idling either.
“Wait for me. I’m coming soon.”