Chapter 36
Chapter 36
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: Revival of the Demon Messengers
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Yuris hurriedly grabbed her sword and rushed outside.
The screams of people outside, the clashing of weapons, and the sound of fire grew closer, making her heart pound faster and faster.
She flung open the tent flap and stepped out.
“Gaaah!”
“Save me!”
“Block the enemies!”
“Fire in the supply depot!”
“That’s not the priority! The cavalry over there… Gurk!”
An arrow pierced the chest of the commander directing the scene.
“#$%@#$!”
“!#%@, kill them!”
It was the cavalry of the Philippod Kingdom, her old nemesis that had tormented her the most.
The Philippod Kingdom was a great power located in the eastern part of the empire.
It was an enemy nation that had waged countless wars with the empire over territorial disputes since ancient times.
Though it hadn’t declared itself an empire, it was one of the few powers that could rival the empire’s might.
Nomads who roamed the eastern great plains on horseback.
Unlike the northern barbarians, who were also nomads, these people used systematic writing, their own shamanism, and technology to persistently harass the empire.
In particular, their cavalry was like demons that had plagued the empire for a long time.
Wielding long spears and bows hung at their waists, the Philippod cavalry tore through the empire’s infantry, earning them the moniker “Demon Messengers” among the empire’s people.
Even knights clad in sturdy plate armor and armed with mana fell like flies to their exceptional archery.
This cavalry was the main reason the empire’s forces in the past couldn’t easily cross their borders.
If Yuris hadn’t shattered their cavalry with the 1st Knight Order, the Philippod Kingdom would surely still be threatening the empire’s borders with their formidable mounted warriors.
Yes.
The Demon Messengers, whom she had once annihilated, had revived and appeared before her again.
“Ah, the Demon Messengers!”
“How did they get this far…?”
“This is the rear!”
The soldiers panicked at the sight of the Demon Messengers.
Everyone looked to Yuris.
As if she were their only hope.
Yuris gazed at the cavalry.
Their armor was as light as possible, yet not to be underestimated.
It was leather from blackfire oxen, unique to the eastern great plains.
Monsters with flame-like horns on their heads—their hides were tough and elastic, impervious to arrows or blades unless infused with mana.
Wearing that meant each rider was skilled enough to hunt such elusive blackfire oxen.
Philippod warriors with black hair tied back and dark red tattoos on their faces ravaged the imperial soldiers emerging from tents with weapons in hand.
“Haa, haa.”
Just seeing them made her breath grow ragged, even without suffering any harm.
Her lower abdomen heated up at the mere imagination of what they might do to her.
Philippod.
Her past archenemy, now extinct.
The foe she had crushed with her own hands had returned to life.
Defeat.
The word she had desperately suppressed grew clearer in her mind.
Her sword hand trembled.
“Lady Yuris!”
“Goddess of Victory!”
“Protect us!”
The soldiers’ cries rang out.
Even if this was an illusion, she couldn’t back down here.
If she fell, everyone here would fall.
“@$%#$^!!”
Hostile gazes slithered toward her from the Philippod cavalry who had spotted her.
That was when it happened.
“Captain!”
“Jeko…?”
“Captain, I’ve gathered everyone from the knight order I could muster!”
Behind Vice-Captain Jeko stood familiar faces from the knight order.
“Why are you… you all here…?”
This was just an illusion, wasn’t it?
“Captain, what are you saying? If we’re not in the battlefield where you are, then who would be?”
She felt a strange disconnect, as if this might be real, but Yuris knew clearly.
This place she stood in was within an illusion.
Those Philippod cavalry—she had subjugated them herself.
“Give the order.”
“…Let’s go.”
She didn’t know what awaited after this, but first, she would slay the enemies before her.
That had to be the story she desired in this illusion.
“For the empire!”
The imperial knights who hadn’t mounted yet clashed with the Philippod cavalry.
It was a fierce battle of kill or be killed.
Yuris waited.
For the future in this battle where she would “lose.”
She was excited.
How would she lose and crumble?
Who would break her and dominate her?
Yuris swung her sword.
Whoosh.
“Gaaah!”
The lead enemy’s spear snapped, and the front riders fell in an instant.
“Uwaaaah!”
Cheers erupted from the imperial forces.
Huh?
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Yuris furrowed her brow at the development contrary to her expectations.
Why was her power coming out so fully?
It hadn’t been like this in previous illusions.
No matter how hard she tried, she had been nothing more than a noble lady.
That’s why she couldn’t even resist the bandits.
‘Why now?’
Nothing could block the Goddess of Victory as she unleashed her sword aura properly.
It didn’t matter how tough the blackfire oxen leather was.
Nothing withstood her sword wrapped in aura.
‘Disappointing.’
Watching the cavalry crumble helplessly just like in reality, Yuris bit her lip in boredom and tedium.
They were weak.
Too weak.
Even in an illusion, once she could wield her true power, even Philippod warriors fell in one strike.
For a moment, she felt disappointed in the illusion mage.
“Kyaa!”
Suddenly, a brute’s sword knocked her blade aside.
Yuris looked at the warrior who had stepped in front of her.
“%$@^&*#$.”
Unlike the other cavalry, this warrior speaking in Philippod tongue wore a black mask.
He deftly parried her sword.
A head taller than the others, with broad shoulders and countless scars on his exposed skin.
One glance told her how mighty a warrior he was.
‘Could he be…?’
A flicker of expectation.
And fear.
Yuris gripped her sword tighter.
She didn’t want to submit to someone weaker than her.
Forced submission wasn’t her taste.
The warrior on horseback thumped his chest twice.
Yuris knew what that meant.
A duel of honor.
“@!%^#@%#$!, honor^&#!%$@#.”
A fair duel to decide victor and vanquished.
“Fine. I accept.”
Understanding, Yuris nodded.
She charged at the masked man, sword at the ready.
For victory?
Or perhaps for defeat.
The swords clashed.
And in that duel that began…
“Kyaa!”
Yuris lost.
Overwhelmingly.
At first, it was even.
Her skill matched the masked man’s—no exaggeration.
She pressed him with offense, and he countered.
A fierce duel of attack and defense.
In a perfect stalemate allowing no mistakes, Yuris felt inwardly flustered.
‘This man… he’s strong.’
A powerhouse who didn’t exist in reality.
But she didn’t feel like she would lose.
I can win.
Just a little.
If just a bit more offense lands.
It was the first time.
A warrior matching her blow for blow like this.
It excited her.
She had never fought like this before.
But it had to end.
For victory.
To drive out the enemy and minimize losses.
She had to kill this man here.
She poured all her power into an attack, seeking his opening.
And right before she could exploit that gap precisely…
A thick male scent stabbed her nose.
A dizzying smell.
“Ah.”
The moment she inhaled it, Yuris felt strength drain from her body.
Her attack, aimed for the killing blow through his opening, veered off futilely.
That was Yuris’s last attack.
The masked man’s sword struck hers, sending it flying high into the air before it stabbed into the ground.
“It’s… over.”
That scent felt similar to the bandits who had once subdued her.
Like the bandits who reduced her to a mere noble lady had returned.
Having lost her sword and the duel, Yuris felt herself trembling.
“Ah, aaah….”
So it was him.
The absolute being who would lead her to defeat.
Her master, who could never exist in reality.
Her body shivered as the man’s scent grew thicker with each approach.
Her breath caught, her blood raced.
Ragged breaths and quivering eyes.
At a loss, Yuris looked up at the masked man gazing down at her.
“You strong. But you… Goddess of Victory? No.”
The masked man approached, spitting out clumsy imperial tongue.
Sniff sniff sniff.
He twitched his nostrils, inhaling her scent.
Like a bitch sniffing to confirm her master.
She knew she shouldn’t, yet Yuris’s body instinctively savored the man’s scent.
No.
This isn’t right.
She had to defeat this masked man who declared she wasn’t the Goddess of Victory, no matter what.
‘Aaah….’
The more she inhaled, the more that strangely addictive scent stimulated her senses.
Just the smell alone awakened every female cell in her body.
As if a strong male to claim her had finally arrived.
The masked man looking down at such a Yuris spoke in a flat voice.
“My… victory.”
“…”
“Payment… now.”
The masked man drew closer, mangling imperial words.
“W-what are you doing?”
“Payment. Death… or prisoner.”
Prisoner or death—his choice.
“Prisoner… or all die.”
The masked man pointed to the knights and soldiers behind her, watching the battle.
With Yuris’s defeat, their morale broken, they knelt captured by the cavalry, unable to resist.
Their helpless figures mirrored her own.
She had crumbled.
The empire’s spirit, victory itself.
‘My defeat ended it all.’
A strange sense of depravity tickled her chest.
The despair of defeat stabbed at Yuris’s heart.
Her breath grew even rougher.
“Answer.”
Even as he demanded her reply.
As if he’d kill them all if she didn’t speak now.
“Haa, haa… Fine. I’ll be… your prisoner.”
Yuris forced the words out.
Understanding, the masked man’s visible eyes curved like crescent moons.
“Good choice. Armor… off.”
“What?”
Yuris stared at the man before her.
“Prisoner… agreed. Obey.”
“A-ah, even so…”
“Obey. Or death.”
He raised his massive sword, his exposed muscles rippling.
Gulp.
A man with power she couldn’t overcome no matter how she struggled.
“Fine. I’ll take it off.”
Yuris removed the iron plate that had protected her body.
A knight stripping her armor before the enemy.
What could be more humiliating?
“Captain!”
“No!”
“Please…”
The desperate voices of her subordinate knights reached her.
Declaring herself no longer a knight— the act filled her with dizzying excitement.
Her subordinates’ voices amplified that depravity.
‘Sorry. For using you all.’
Right now, they were props in her illusion.
Solely to sate her defeat lust.
‘Sorry. Everyone.’
Because I’m a worthless captain.
Because of me, you suffer.
She knew she shouldn’t, but under the gazes of knights who knew her—and whom she knew—Yuris felt her body heat up further.
Her nipples hardened.
Fear of what would happen next made her pant.
Yuris glanced sideways at the knights.
Some gritted their teeth in frustration, eyes clenched shut.
Others stared wide-eyed, as if burning her defeat into their eyes to fuel vengeance.
It was Jeko.
Vice-Captain Jeko.
Her reliable comrade, who could perform at captain level yet remained her vice-captain.
Clutching his wounded shoulder, he glared piercingly at her and the masked man.
‘Sorry.’
Her chest ached with depravity.
She barely tore her gaze from his.
The masked man took another step closer.
The scent thickened.
Now so potent it was hard to even stand.
Aaah, that pungent smell.
Yuris knew where it came from.
The bulging lower front.
The acrid stench wafting from that heavy, massive package in his crotch.
Aaah, but she shouldn’t…
Her eyes kept drifting there.
The masked man loomed over her silently.
Then—
Rip!
“Kyaaa!”
He tore her clothes right off.
Her white breasts were exposed.
“Captain!!!!”
Her subordinate knights wailed at the sight of her humiliation.
If this continued, they’d all die.
That couldn’t happen.
Even in illusion, they were her comrades.
She didn’t want to see them die.
Yuris raised a hand to calm them.
“I-I’m fine. So… preserve your lives.”
Before her words finished, the masked man’s huge hand roughly seized her breast.
“Hnnght!”
He began groping her body like appraising merchandise.
Kneading her breasts, stroking her waist, mauling her ass.
And when his thick hand delved into her crotch…
“Hnngaaaah….”
Yuris let out a moan unfit for the battlefield.
“Big tits. Firm ass. Easily aroused body. Good for bearing children. Woman.”
He looked down at her as if passing judgment.
Meeting the masked man’s piercing gaze, Yuris thought:
‘That look… it feels like being raped.’
Her body trembled, already feeling violated multiple times.
What could a defeated loser like her say?
She could only hope for mercy from the enemy commander.
“You… my wife.”
“What?”
“Refuse… all die.”
His hand gestured toward the subordinate knights and soldiers.
“…”
She had no choice.
Refusing here meant they all died.
Yuris painfully realized the humiliation of the vanquished.
A loser truly could do nothing.
She bit her lip in misery.
Yet her mouth corners twitched upward inexplicably.
She looked at her captured subordinates.
To save them.
So they wouldn’t all die, she would “sacrifice” herself.
Yes.
Right.
So she’d done nothing wrong.
“F-fine.”
Declaring herself the wife of an enemy general, Yuris felt her heart squeeze tight.
A self-proclaimed declaration of defeat.