Chapter 66
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 66
Chapter Title: Echoes of Another World, The True Face of the Religious Reformation (1)
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“In October of 1698, as the civil war known as the Religious Reformation reached its zenith, Kaisen Alter Aradamanthel stepped into the heart of this bloody maelstrom.”
The Empire was engulfed in chaos.
The Holy Human Empire, the strongest nation of mankind at the time, was originally ruled by five prince-electors.
Duren in the north.
Tisria in the east.
Arphen in the south.
Eijin in the west.
Sion in the center.
The core of the Empire's power lay in the imperial election among the prince-electors—a decision-making system to select the most talented individual of the era as emperor.
“Here, the event that fractured the Empire's unity was the Religious Reformation.”
The main figure of the Religious Reformation, Albert Starseeker, directly refuted the old doctrines of the Light Dragon Orthodox Church.
He proclaimed that human glory lay not in the divine, but in the human.
The prince-electors, vying for imperial supremacy, each weighed their own interests on the scales of power.
Should they choose the old, True Faith?
Or the reformist faction, the Heretical Faith?
The Duchy of Sion in the center and the Duchy of Eijin in the west chose the Heretical Faith, while the Grand Duke of Duren in the north and the Duke of Arphen in the south, with their staunchly conservative religious views, chose the True Faith.
“At this time, the east had failed to unify under either the True or Heretical Faith and had entered a period of internal struggle.”
“So the faction that controlled the east would be able to elect the emperor?”
“Correct. Thus, it was a natural course of events for the east to become the main battlefield of the Religious Reformation.”
This was the history as perceived by those living in that era.
“At the time, no one knew that the Religious Reformation was, in fact, an invasion by people from another world.”
Who could have imagined then…
As the world's destruction began…
The legend of those horrifying apostles from the outer cosmos, far beyond the providence of creation, descending upon this land…
Echoes of Another World,
The True Face of the Religious Reformation (1)
“Signal flare for the collapse of the left flank! Two infantry brigades have been incinerated by the Rivendell School's area-of-effect magic…!”
Imperial Calendar, October 1698.
The Holy Human Empire, Geram region, on the border of the central and southern territories.
This land, where the sacred star Kies and its descendants were said to have settled and kept the peace, was now filled with the clamor of war.
“The reserves sent to support the right flank are raising flags for emergency aid! We need orders to respond…!”
Across the continent, a tumultuous battle for the imperial throne was raging.
The Geram region, situated on a mountain pass connecting the central and southern territories, served as a strategic foothold for both factions.
Amidst the roar of cannons that shook the earth and sent dust clouds soaring, bullets, spears, and swords clashed chaotically as screams intertwined.
“The main force is still holding the line, but the enemy artillery's bombardment is overwhelming our own…!”
Squadrons of griffins filled the sky, their shrieks blanketing the air.
Blood rained down as they tore at the flesh of their own kind with beaks and talons, turning the ground below into a muddy mire.
Gazing up at the endless rain of blood, Julius Page muttered softly.
“Warrior, have we failed in the end?”
The young head of the Page County family.
Beneath his elegant, light purple hair, his face was fraught with worry.
The light purple hair was a genetic symbol unique to the Page family, descendants of the Great Sage Emissa Page.
“Why… do you think so?”
But here was a moonlight that made even that symbol pale in comparison.
Before the silver hair that swayed serenely in the wind, the True Holy Sword Sharrilion pulsed with a powerful light.
Her name was Tarsiyo, Tarsiyo Yere Sharrilion. The Warrior, returned to this land after two thousand years.
“The heretical forces are always one step ahead of us. It's as if we're in the palm of their hand… All our strategies and tactics are seen through. How on earth…”
“As if they know everything, you mean?”
“Precisely.”
The AuthenticWarrior was not the proud, dignified figure one might see in a legendary painting.
She looked more like an invalid than a warrior.
She was hiding her festering skin with bandages, and now, with the help of her handmaidens, she was donning her armor over them.
When Tarsiyo could fight as the Warrior, they were victorious on every battlefield.
But Tarsiyo could not be the Warrior in every battle. Just like now.
This was a secret known only to a select few… but one could see her breath tremble, as if even speaking was a struggle.
“Yes… that's exactly it. 'They' must have experienced this battle dozens of times, so this outcome is only natural…”
At that, a middle-aged man mounted on a warhorse clad in resplendent blue armor asked,
“Lady Tarsiyo, what do you mean they've experienced this battle dozens of times?”
Blan Arphen.
The flag of a blue dragon, fluttering in the wind above him, attested to his noble status.
He was the prince-elector who governed the south, the head of the Ducal House of Arphen, a lord who had suffered constant defeat in the war against the central army.
“You've experienced it many times by now. How they know exactly how to form their battle lines and strike only at our weaknesses.”
“So what you're saying is—”
“—A messenger!”
A griffin descended hastily from the sky.
Before the dust from its landing could settle, the rider leaped off and prostrated himself frantically before them.
“The main force bravely confronted the central army's vanguard, but the enemy's Silver Hawk Knights charged, inflicting immense casualties on our troops! They are a grand company, three thousand strong!”
“…!”
“The full might of the central army is pouring in behind their breakthrough! The Rivendell School, having crushed the left flank, has joined them, and even our main force is on the verge of collapse!”
Blan Arphen let out a deep sigh.
“The Silver Hawk Knights… We have no choice but to meet them with our main strength.”
The commander of the Silver Hawk Knights, Beglen.
He was one of the five master swordsmen currently known as the Five Swords of the Empire.
The head of the Rivendell School, Dalion Karain, was also a great figure, one of the Empire's five Archwizards (5-star, Grand Magician), and considered one of the central army's key figures.
“Julius, I'll need the power of your Arcane Guard.”
“Understood. I am but a Glados-level (4-star) magician, but I will do my utmost…”
“No. It is time for me…”
As Tarsiyo, now fully armed, walked over, Julius wore a worried expression.
“To go out yourself… If you fall here, all hope will be lost.”
As she was about to reply to Julius, Tarsiyo suddenly started, her gaze shifting to a distant point.
And as if in a dream.
Or perhaps, as if painting a dream.
A lovely smile graced her lips as she stared with vacant eyes at a distant hill to the east, where nothing and no one could be seen.
“He's coming…”
“Pardon?”
“He's coming…! So let's wait for the right moment to attack. Concentrate all our main forces. I will go out then.”
Who was coming, exactly who was coming, Tarsiyo did not say.
There was no need.
For soon, atop that hill, at the end of her gaze, a rider on a red warhorse appeared.
***
“Ugh, it's the Silver Hawk Knights… said to be the strongest in the central region…!”
“Hold them back! Form a kill zone—!”
“—Ca-Captain!”
It was overwhelming violence, trampling everything on the battlefield.
A massive iron ball studded with dozens of spikes swept through the battlefield, crushing the skulls of warhorses, pulverizing the upper bodies of cavalrymen, and shattering the legs of foot soldiers.
Above it, a pure white banner fluttered, a hawk spreading its wings powerfully on the flag.
“Hahahat! This is too damn easy! Is it because they're all nameless small fry? Come on, at least a low-tier named enemy needs to show up for me to get some experience points!”
Riding beside him, the Grand Magician Dalion, who was firing off high-level spells, gave a sardonic smile.
“Don't worry. The Elite said Tarsiyo can't use her full power right now! If we capture that bitch here, the civil war scenario is pretty much over!”
And yet, amidst the chaos, there was the sound of hoofbeats, strangely clear.
Was it because of his blade-like presence?
The sound resonated as if a blade were striking right before his eyes, and the gaze of the Hawk Knight, Beglen, was drawn to it.
“What the hell is that guy? His level isn't showing up on the interface.”
A straight line.
Into the pandemonium where the southern army's ranks were scattering, a single warhorse charged straight ahead.
Beglen's eyes narrowed in contempt.
“Crazy bastard, charging at the great Level 86 Beglen all by himself? Against me, who's only 14 levels away from max level?”
“Wait! Something's off. That bastard, his name and level aren't showing. The Appraisal Immunity skill is a high-tier skill only the Elites can use.”
“Ha, you idiot. What good is Appraisal Immunity on some moron who chose the FakeWarrior route as a man! Coming here with a bunch of useless fake holy swords he can't even wield!”
Beglen kicked his warhorse's flank roughly to increase its speed, and the knights behind him followed, roaring.
“Alright, you bastard! All those items you so carefully looted, I'll be happy to take them off your corpse and put them to good use—!”
In the gap of a single blink.
In the inevitable gap of a breath, between the inhale and the exhale.
As if slipping through that gap, a blade flashed like lightning before his eyes.
The afterimage of a single strike.
The trajectory of a blade, unleashed from a state that transcended the blind spots of consciousness and vision.
By the time he noticed the fatal blow, the flash before his eyes had already faded.
The moment he thought, *I have to block it,* and tried to raise his shield, the horizon, streaked with a red afterimage, was already spinning dizzily.
*What in the world…?*
Before the final agony could even register.
Only the bewildered murmurs from all around could convey the truth of what had just happened to Beglen.
“B-Beglen, in one hit?”
“What the hell… The south still had a monster like that?”
“The Elite never told us there was a guy like that.”
Before those cries of fear and confusion could even end, the blade painted auroras of slaughter across the horizon again and again.
And each time, like a lie.
As if slicing through paper, the heads and torsos of thousands of knights were separated, toppling this way and that.
There are such moments.
Such feats of arms.
There exists an absolute martial power capable of overturning the tide of battle with the skill of a single person.
“Th-that's…?!”
“It-it's Lord Kaisen!”
“Lord Kaisen? The strongest soldier of mankind?”
Amidst the cheers of the fleeing southern soldiers, Dalion's mind went blank.
“Kaisen?”
Could it be *that* Kaisen? No, impossible. But, wait...
It was a long time ago, before I joined this battle royale as a player.
I'd read it in the item tooltip for the Supreme Holy Sword Aradamanthel.
[The last wielder of this sword was the great hero of mankind, Kaisen Alter Aradamanthel. It is said that with this single sword, in his final moments before death, he cut down 'the sky'.]
But there was a problem.
Kaisen Alter Aradamanthel was an unimplemented NPC. Meaning, he was a being you couldn't meet, no matter what you did.
There were even those who tried to use bugs to somehow meet this legendary NPC who was said to have cut down even The Forgotten Kings as mankind's strongest soldier, but none succeeded.
*The Battle of the Red Mountains was an event that was only ever mentioned, not playable…*
How could a hero who definitely died in that event and was never supposed to appear, be alive and here now?
*It's just as the Elite Sorcerer said.*
Something is strange about this whole thing.
Starting with the existence of those so-called Three Spirit Dragons… too much has changed from the original version.
*But if I can just eliminate this anomaly right here and now…!*
High-speed calculation for a 5-star spell.
The Rivendell School was one that had entered the ranks of the Eight Great Schools by dealing exclusively in the fire attribute.
Its power, forged and refined through long tradition, shines brightest in battle.
- Magic circle construction, 5-star (complete).
Aiming for the opening at his back, exposed from breaking through the ranks alone, the Grand Magician pulled twelve talismans from his robes and threw them.
The talismans, floating in fixed positions, shot out flames, linking themselves into a single power.
For a moment, a five-layered magic circle unfolded in the air amidst the flames, then it shot up into the sky, covering it with a curtain of fire.
- Heavenly Flame Strike.
Heavenly Flame Strike was the ultimate magic designed by the founder of the Rivendell School, Orvos Karain.
Brilliant flames swallowed the azure sky.
Those flames, powerful enough to swallow the sky, soon created a mighty torrent and poured down upon their target.
“!”
Vicious mana. The fine hairs on his spine stood on end, and the back of his head tingled. Kaisen Alter Aradamanthel turned around.
There was still a moment's grace.
If he could unleash a sword aura from his draw and take the caster's head… But in the moment he was sheathing Aradamanthel.
Crunch, crunch, crunch…….
A clear, decisive pain of the abyss, gnawing at his soul. A momentary delay occurred in his movements and judgment.
*No, of all times…?*
His breath came in ragged gasps.
He pressed a fist to his chest, but the pain did not subside.
“…Get out of the way…!”
“…It's dangerous…!”
In that moment, as everyone shouted frantically but dared not throw themselves forward, as the flames poured down, burning the horizon red.
“Swallow it, Sharrilion.”
The Warrior stepped forward, her brilliantly shining silver hair fluttering. She held up the black-bladed sword with both hands, as if in prayer.
As its massive weight trembled, a strange phenomenon occurred.
The streams of falling flame twisted and tangled unnaturally… then were sucked into the blade.
“……?”
“……?”
“……?”
The great explosion of flame that should have incinerated the very earth and all life upon it had vanished.
To be precise, it hadn't vanished.
Inside the blade of the black, transparent holy sword, that red and ferocious power was condensed and shimmering.
“That's enough.”
This was the special ability of the True Holy Sword Sharrilion.
Essence Absorption.
The special ability of the True Holy Sword, which had cut down the old kings in the age of gods, far transcended even those of the Supreme Holy Swords.
“You can send it back now. Pierce him.”
Sevenfold. The power to amplify the absorbed energy by exactly seven times and release it at a single point seizes control of all other abilities.
The tip of that miraculous blade took aim.
At the Grand Magician, the original master of this magic, of this flame that had surpassed the trajectory of standard power.
“G-Guaaaaaaaah!”
And in that instant.
A violent vortex of flame erupted and shot forth, incinerating the Grand Magician's body in a single breath.
Yes, it was a miraculous sight. The embodiment of an absolute power that overturned despair into hope in an instant.
“W-Waaaaaaaaaah!”
That majesty, something fundamentally different from a Fake Warrior… Kaisen was lost in a daze.
Like the moon that illuminates the night sky.
That power shines upon everyone's hearts with the inevitable mystery of nature. It soaks their hearts with a beauty like nature itself.
*White hair and a holy sword. At a glance, she looks similar to the FakeWarrior seniors and comrades I've seen so far…*
Like the moon that brightens the dark night from afar, just seeing her is captivating, overwhelming.
Just by seeing her gaze.
Just by hearing her voice.
On this battlefield of despair, hope begins to echo and surge, like moonlight flooding the horizon.
“The Sharrilion Corps is here!”
“Follow the Warrior!”
“Trample them all!”
Unlike me, who only knows how to cut and kill, she has a dazzling light.
A brilliance that seems to shine down upon those trapped in darkness.
How can she lead everyone so dazzlingly, so beautifully?
- Kill. Your sword only cuts and kills. It has no other purpose.
As the wave of light swept the battlefield, Kaisen lowered his gaze.
Mother, Master.
What is a true warrior?
Lady Akirea said it was merely a milestone, but how must one erect that milestone for it to be so different?
“No, don't kill those without the brand! Spare all who surrender and strike down only those who are branded!”
Tarsiyo shouted, raising Sharrilion high.
The sunlight glinted off the dark blade, upon which a radiant sun and its rays, illuminating mountains and rivers, were engraved.
As the reflected sunlight illuminated the battlefield as if it were broad daylight, most of the enemies collapsed, as if the strength had drained from their bodies.
“The brand!”
“What in the world is that?”
But a few of them, far from collapsing, had a bizarre brand appear above their heads.
That was the brand of the otherworld.
The true nature of that brand would not be known to the world until some time later.
*No need to despair. I just have to do what I've always done.*
At that time, no one could focus on the nature of the brand.
*The work I learned from my master and seniors, the duty of a Fake Warrior.*
As the old saying goes, when the light shines, the darkness cannot overcome it and retreats; everyone was captivated by the radiance that brilliantly illuminated the battlefield that day.
“Hey, look at that…”
And.
Even within that dazzling vortex.
They were overwhelmed by a blood-red light that glittered beautifully, refusing to lose its own luster.
“To think there was a swordsman who could keep pace with Lady Tarsiyo…”
The white light and the blood-red light connected, crossed, moved apart and came together again in a beautiful, dazzling dance.
That dance, which colored the battlefield, swept away the brands of the otherworld that had been striding across the world under the shadow of deceit.
That day, no one there… dared to move.
They could only listen to each other's heartbeats, captivated and overwhelmed, amidst that feast of light.
“Incredible. Just as his title, the Strongest Soldier of Mankind, suggests…”
On the field where the battle had ended in an instant, praises for Tarsiyo filled the air.
It was as if a fairy tale had been superimposed onto reality.
The fairy tale of the warrior that my parents used to read to me at bedtime… from those irretrievable childhood days.
“““Sharrilion! Sharrilion! Sharrilion! Sharrilion! Sharrilion! Sharrilion!”””
The Warrior who held the holy sword high.
Rides across the battlefield on a pure white horse, as everyone shouts her name.
*Compared to her…*
With a bitter smile, he glanced back and forth between her majestic presence and his own sorry state.
My wretched appearance, covered in blood and dust, only served as clear proof.
That I am a fake.
*Master, Senior Sharon, Senior Roveris, Isla, Seira.*
Like a single flower blooming on the battlefield.
All the FakeWarriors I had seen until now were like this, wearing petals of killing intent over their shabby forms, worn down by the traces of battle.
I had believed that dirtied and disheveled beauty was true beauty, but it was all just the delusion and rationalization of someone who had never seen the real thing.
*Before my eyes now is the 'real thing' we all dreamed of.*