Chapter 45
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: The Conquest of Aurelinople (3)
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[Just as the reconnaissance report stated. The desertification has begun in <Aurelinople> as well.]
February 28th, 1698.
The western Revento Plains of the Violet City, <Aurelinople>.
[The only way to stop the desertification from reaching the Red Mountains is to retake the city.]
The ripples from the barrier stones cleared the skies.
Along that cleared path, a column of light and dust marched in orderly fashion.
The reorganized 400,000-strong 1st Front Army aimed for the front—the northern gate of <Aurelinople>.
[Currently, starting with the 1st Front Army, the entire 2nd and 3rd Front Armies are advancing south toward the city's outskirts.]
The sight was nothing short of spectacular.
Since the war began, humanity's forces, once spread in a long, thin line, had now gathered into a single, short, thick wedge.
Light and dust filled the land, and in the sky directly above the column of light and dust, a column of wind could be heard—the sound of griffins' beating wings.
[We have identified the enemy forces stationed in each sector, previously unidentifiable due to volcanic ash. Commanders are to once again disseminate the enemy's characteristics and countermeasures to their officers.]
Following the declaration of the Heat Wave Warning—the general mobilization order—all troops, save for a minimal defensive force, were committed to this offensive.
Later, historical records would state that humanity's forces on this day numbered 1,111,756.
It was an all-out war, deploying the forces of every fallen southern kingdom and every FakeWarrior. If they lost this decisive battle, humanity would have no future.
[The Iron Cross will open the way. The Iron Fortress and Dragon's Spire corps will lead the 2nd Front Army to the northern gate, while the Sure-Hit corps of the 3rd Front Army will aim for the eastern gate.]
As the giant mechanized units advanced, shaking the very axis of the earth, Kaisen looked back from the ranks of the Iron Cross Knights running between them.
Countless flags…
Yes, tens of thousands of flags…
He saw them dancing above the soldiers, who marched to a single, unified rhythm, like one colossal organism.
“The Floating Fortress Command has ordered our Iron Cross to perform a frontal assault on the western gate.”
The Valand Kingdom, the Third Republic of Kalon, the Hosen Kingdom, the Anima Duchy, the Bern Duchy…
All were fallen kingdoms of the south.
Soldiers who had lost their homes long ago.
Their deep-seated grudge, their yearning to return to their lost homes, had transformed into a murderous intent that spread like dust across the earth.
“Ha! Perennial High Khun Tark number two! A worthy opponent for our Iron Cross!”
“The Kiral have the most military-like structure and their forces are immense. You can tell just by looking at how they fill the horizon up ahead—”
Just as Mern was chiding Tval.
From the walls of <Aurelinople>, the city visible through the faintly swirling volcanic ash far ahead.
Ferocious catapults, three times the standard size, began to tilt one by one in response to a shout.
“—Incoming volley from the front! It’s the trolls’ siege battery!”
Alidona immediately pulled a scroll from her waist. Unfurling it, she shouted.
“I’m putting up a barrier! No one charge ahead! Slow down!”
Upon the wide-area barrier Alidona had cast, massive stones were crushed and crumbled.
As the remnants scattered into fragments of rock, the Iron Cross Knights charged past the barrier.
Tval, pulling down the visor of his black iron helmet, shouted with glee.
“Ha! How many trolls are there? So many skulls ripe for the cracking!”
“Captain, with that many trolls, there are bound to be ogres. We need to be careful.”
“I agree.”
Ogres were a variant of troll that had undergone physical and mental mutation due to the influence of the Abyss.
According to scholars, unlike trolls, they could think for extended periods and were even capable of speech.
The troll species' strength was its overwhelmingly immense power, but its weakness was its dull intellect.
- Granting intelligence to such a living weapon is never a pleasant prospect. Because you—all of you who will become FakeWarriors—will have to deal with them.
Rahel, the instructor at the [Sword Hall of Prowess], had emphasized this.
For in the face of such irrational might, countless lives had already been lost under the guise of loyalty.
Ogres were monsters equipped with both irrational might and intelligence, and humanity had no choice but to counter them with irrational might of its own.
“But our objective is the Kiral. We’ll think about the siege batteries after we break through them.”
Total War,
The Conquest of Aurelinople (3)
The wind on the wasteland before the western gate of <Aurelinople> was fierce.
A wind of volcanic ash and dust swept across the wasteland, cutting through the charging ranks.
Upon that desolate wasteland, the howls of the Kiral's Blaschwurfs could be heard as they threw back their heads.
Auuuuuuuuuuu……
……Auuuuuuuuuuuuu……
……………Auuuuuuuuuuuuu……
The piercing howls echoed, diffusely reflected by the volcanic ash, making the sound all the more terrifying, and the warhorses flared their nostrils.
“Iron Cross, raise spears!”
As the warhorses picked up speed, monstrous wolves poured out from within the volcanic ash.
“Twenty seconds to impact!”
The crest of the Kiral, a roaring wolf, danced on the banners held high by the clan's standard-bearers.
The stench of Blaschwurf blood, the battle hymns of the Kiral Uruks...
These elements of the battlefield felt all too familiar to Kaisen.
*‘Familiar? No...’*
More than familiar, it felt almost mystical.
For nearly a year—no, for over a year—he had replayed the memory of that day in his mind again and again and again. This was identical to it, without the slightest difference.
- The Kiral. A clan that originally occupied the 'Jullad Plains,' the most fertile land in the demon realm south of the [Flame Wall].
Because the plains were vast and the mountains distant, the Kiral warriors and their wolves reproduced explosively, swelling their numbers.
They even ruled their army with order, using administrative skills learned from raiding humanity.
Their immense numbers had always posed a tremendous threat to humanity.
- When Eltire Alter Fladimarte, the Third Seat, and the old chieftain Zkan mutually perished in the defense of <Aurelinople>, the second son, Kische, inherited the chieftainship.
- Instructor, what happened to the first son for the second son to take over?
- An excellent question. The young man over there, currently lost in thought, is the one who killed him. If you're curious, ask him yourself.
Back then, he couldn't help but be lost in thought, unable to focus on the lesson.
Every time he heard the name Kiral, the memories associated with it would resurface, and the pain of that day would wash over him again…
The fishy smell of water, so strong he could barely breathe, the groans of the dying and the dead, and…
“Kaisen, I’ve told you before, but if you lose your reason and charge off to a dog’s death, I will not send my men to protect you. Understand?”
The nemesis of his youth was right before his eyes, yet his heart was strangely calm.
No, perhaps not calm, but cold…
He could feel a killing intent, frozen colder than death itself, creaking in the depths of his heart.
“Ha! You Kiral bastards, I’ll give you a taste of the Dragon Lance!”
Digging his spurs into Bloodwind's flanks, he charged forward, taking the very lead of the vanguard.
He advanced.
Forward, ever forward.
Groaning in agony, gasping for breath, he moved toward the enemy he had envisioned time and again.
As he advanced, his left hand was already on the sheath, his right hand on the hilt.
“Rokta! How pathetic, you lump of human flesh! To charge so fearlessly before the assault squad of Atkor of the Kiranzuki-gaga of Kiral!”
The Blaschwurfs, starved for human flesh and blood, charged toward them, drooling ravenously.
Above them, the steel of the Kiral warriors, who let out battle cries, glinted in the dust.
And at that very moment, as the holy sword was drawn from its pure white sheath, its blade blooming crimson, he charged head-on into that barbaric battle line.
An unstoppable force.
With the first iai strike, a hundred warriors were butchered, their bodies sent flying above the banners.
“Bak to...?!”
With the second iai strike, the necks of two hundred wolves beyond them shot into the air, creating a mist of blood.
“What in the...?!”
With the third iai strike, the momentum of their charge broken, the Kiral assault squad began to scatter to the left and right.
[Kaisen Alter Aradamanthel, frontal breach of the Kiral assault squad...!]
[Incredible! The Kiral are completely unable to stop Kaisen Alter Aradamanthel's breakthrough!]
[High-risk Abyss factor approaching Kaisen at high speed!]
As Kaisen prepared for his fourth iai strike, a wolf twice the size of a normal Blaschwurf surged toward him.
Bloodwind instantly twisted its body, causing the fangs aimed for its throat to tear through empty air.
In that instant, the forces of the riders atop the warhorse and the wolf clashed, and a deafening metallic explosion erupted.
Klaaaang…!
The Uruk commanding the Blaschwurf was a giant with unnaturally dark, sand-colored skin.
His grotesque armor and gauntlets, which seemed woven from individual grains of sand, were kicking up a sandstorm.
It was a familiar face.
“I have longed for the day I would kill you on the battlefield, Kaisen Kishunkalihartz.”
Kische, who had accepted the results of the Kaltake and let Kaisen go…
This was their reunion after a year.
They were sworn enemies, and both had changed so much in power and appearance over the past year that they were unrecognizable.
“You…”
His voice.
His voice wouldn't come out.
The rage that had festered and rotted inside him, welling up from the hole in his chest, was choking his vocal cords.
“No one interfere! This one is my prey! I will crush his skull right here and offer it before my brother’s grave!”
As the blade of Aradamanthel and the gauntlets blessed by the Old King clashed countless times, a storm of blades raged.
Unable to speak because of the pain, Kaisen muttered blankly to himself.
*‘Hey, Kische... do you know?’*
From that day, the day you slaughtered my second family.
How many times in my heart… hundreds, thousands… no, how immeasurably many times did I vow…
That with my own hands, I would exterminate all of you, the Kiral clan…
Not one…
Not a single one of you would be left on this earth…
*‘Yes...’*
Today is the day.
Today, I will fulfill that vow.
Before I go for Valkrush hiding behind you, I will first bury every last one of you.
Krrraaaaack…!
The power of the Abyss, concentrated at a single point, exploded from the striking surface of the gauntlet, creating a fierce sandstorm.
Sand and lava—the authority of the Old King, Neigalas, since ancient times.
He blocked that power, which turned everything it touched to dirt and sand, by crossing his sword and sheath in an X.
“Captain, that Kaisen fellow is forbidden from using his Dragon Spirit, yet he’s fighting the Kiral chieftain one-on-one?”
“Cover him! Keep clearing the path!”
“Kasas, it’s a clean hit! Finish him, Kische!”
His helmet and armor crumbled to sand.
His skin split, his muscles hardened, and just as Kische thrust forward for the finishing blow—in that hair-raising moment.
Kaisen sheathed Aradamanthel back into its pure white scabbard.
That fleeting posture seemed somehow reverent.
It was hard to think of him as a swordsman on a battlefield stained with the stench of blood.
He felt as serene and holy as a monk praying in a quiet, peaceful cathedral.
The crimson killing intent that had danced around him was sucked into the sheath, and for a moment, he seemed something other than human.
—Sipmunjado Fourth Form, Release.
A stance he had seen and been taught not just once, but tens, hundreds of times.
As he took that stance just before the enemy's fierce attack, fragments of memory brushed past his mind like petals scattering in the wind.
The fragments came as smells, sounds, and sensations.
—Release - Sipmunjado Twelfth Form.
The laughter of the White Bone Corps as they told lewd jokes…
The warmth of Camilla's fingers as she meticulously corrected his stance, even while always rapping him on the head…
And, and also…
—Eternal Annihilation Flash.
As if to shake off all those memories, as if to cut himself free from the swamp of sorrow pulling him down.
In the instant Kische's fist surged before his eyes, in the instant he drew the blade that trembled as if sobbing.
The blade of light cleaved the sandstorm, pierced his enemy's sand armor and flesh beyond, tore past the ribs, ripped deep into the heart, and shot upward.
- Yeah, you son of a bitch. I'll tell you, I'll tell you! You're so damn annoying.
As he cut down his foe at a speed no mortal eye could follow, Aradamanthel roared, several times more crimson than usual.
- This is the final form of the Sipmunjado.
The final secret art of the Sipmunjado: cutting down the enemy with a vertical slash and leaving dozens of microscopic sword auras in its wake.
The dozens of sword auras then mince the target's insides before exploding.
- The 12th Form is extremely difficult to use, but if you master it, you can kill almost any enemy. Now, try to follow me.
Now, in this very moment.
Kische's body, caught in the slash and sent flying into the air, was—like the countless shattering fragments of memory—diced into hundreds of pieces before scattering across the sand as flesh, bone fragments, chunks of gore, and blood.
Thud, thud, thud…
The sand gauntlets tumbled across the wasteland.
Bloodwind stomped on the profane objects with its hooves and snorted.
The sound jolted those who had been staring blankly at the transcendent battle back to reality.
For a moment, only the sound of the sandy wind could be heard on the battlefield.
The lingering thrill of the battle.
A wave of silence swept over the battlefield, and just as it passed, a cacophony of joy and despair erupted from both sides.
“Ruk no... How could this be…”
“Damn, that Kaisen guy did it again! Took down the High Khun Tark number two without even using his Dragon Spirit...!”
“Is this any time to be impressed?! Let’s wipe out these tenacious bastards once and for all!”
Through the path Kaisen had opened.
Into the tide of war Kaisen had turned.
The sight of the 1st Front Army, led by the Iron Cross Knights, charging in and wiping out the Kiral cavalry was clearly reflected in the Lake of the World Tree.
“The western front of <Aurelinople>! Despite the overwhelming difference in numbers, they are fighting exceptionally well!”
“The enemy line has lost its center and is breaking apart! Confusion is spreading!”
“The ferocity of the Iron Cross Knights is shattering most of the counterattacks!”
With the Thunderous Fragrance Heart Resonance Formation active, a sad smile touched Setsunen's lips as she gazed at the battlefield reflected on the lake's surface with her cross-patterned eyes.
*‘Yes, Raminea. So this is your son...’*
Just like you, he illuminates this dark world with his sword.
Just like you, he forges hope with his sword in this hopeless world.
And just like you…
*‘His path of the sword looks unbearably painful.’*
Right now, the emotion dominating that child's heart is not the pleasure or thrill of revenge, but sorrow…
No matter what death he delivers.
No matter what revenge he completes.
It is a crumbling sorrow, born from the fresh realization that it can never be exchanged for the deaths of those already gone…
*‘And yet...’*
Just as with you, I cannot ease his pain, his suffering, his sorrow…
Always like this…
My heart aches as if it will tear, watching so helplessly…