Chapter 274
Chapter 274
Translation: Godtl
Frondier waited in midair for the master of Manggot to appear.
If they didn't show up even after time passed, he planned to serve them another helping of 'Sword Essence,' but surely their leader wouldn't be foolish enough for that.
'Has Selena made her move?'
Though he could have used the sword energy 'Sword Essence' by combining it with Black Heaven, Frondier deliberately created Menosorpo instead.
The first reason was to draw Manggot's attention with the massive magic circle, and the second was to send a signal to Selena.
'Based on the information I got from Malia, Selena hasn't taken the field. She's probably still inside Manggot.'
Of course, Malia's vision didn't cover the entire battlefield.
But even for Manggot, there couldn't be that many fighters of Selena's caliber. She might not be among the top-tier ranks they called Shepherds, but she'd certainly be in a key position.
And with her level of skill, she would have had more than enough time to cross the barrier amidst the chaos of the monster onslaught.
Yet there had been no report of her. That was why Frondier believed Selena was still inside Manggot.
Above all, even if he were the leader of Manggot, he wouldn't have deployed Selena.
'Meaning Selena is under suspicion within Manggot.'
He didn't know whether it was the collective suspicion of Manggot or just the leader's personal distrust.
But Selena likely wasn't free to move around within Manggot. She might have been placed under house arrest, or worse, imprisoned.
Using Menosorpo to signal Selena was, ultimately, an act of faith.
Faith that Selena would understand the intent behind this signal.
Faith that, upon understanding, she would break free from whatever restraints had been placed on her.
And above all, faith that once freed, Selena would stand on Frondier's side.
'......They've all done well so far.'
Frondier had been receiving reports from Malia continuously as he made his way to Manggot.
Hoping that not a single one of them would fall, he had made somewhat reckless deployments. The barrier was vast, and skilled personnel were scarce. Still, he had arranged them in what he believed was the best possible configuration.
He had been particularly surprised when he received reports from Aster and Sybil. Their progress was beyond anything Frondier had anticipated.
"Now then."
Frondier's gaze lowered slightly.
Far in the distance, though concealed, he could sense a sinister presence slowly approaching.
"My turn."
Gray hair, a rough-looking staff in his left hand—his somewhat leisurely and composed demeanor resembled his own.
'Does the enemy think I'm Osprey?'
If Frondier's deliberate efforts to conceal his battles up to now had worked, the enemy leader wouldn't yet know the extent of his abilities.
Frondier, too, still didn't know that the master of Manggot was Belphegor.
Thud—
At that moment, Belphegor lightly struck the ground with his staff.
Using the recoil, he leaped up smoothly and landed before Frondier.
In that instant, the two confirmed each other's identities for the first time.
"......"
Belphegor's gaze settled on Frondier's face.
As if time itself had slowed to a crawl, his expression gradually twisted into one of utter confusion.
"......Who are you?"
The question that finally left his lips was a simple one.
With those words, Frondier realized his assumption had been correct—yet something was also wrong.
"......You don't know who I am?"
"No. What are you? Why is some strange guy here instead of Osprey?"
Yes, Osprey.
Belphegor had assumed the one who had come this far was Osprey.
Frondier's prediction on that count had been accurate.
However.
'But it's strange that he doesn't recognize me.'
"Aren't you Belphegor?"
"I am."
Belphegor—that much was correct.
Frondier had deduced from his conversation with Osprey that there was a devil within Manggot.
Given the timing of this war, he was certain the Dragon Heart was involved.
'Only a select few know that the Imperial Palace's Dragon Heart was used to summon a devil. There's no way that information could have reached Manggot, which stands on the complete opposite side of the Empire, so quickly.'
There was only one way Manggot could have known—there must be a devil within Manggot as well.
He couldn't have known who that devil was, but Frondier had guessed it was Belphegor based on the fact that the Emperor and his past self had suffered the same symptoms. That much had been correct, but—
"I am Frondier de Roah."
Given that he was Frondier, it made no sense for Belphegor not to recognize him.
"......You're Frondier?"
Belphegor's repeated question left even Frondier perplexed.
Belphegor tilted his head, his low gaze sweeping over Frondier. He glared at him with eyes filled with displeasure.
"Stop spouting nonsense. You are not Frondier."
"...And you,"
Whoosh!
CRASH!!
Belphegor swung his staff as if to cut off Frondier's words, only for Black Heaven to intercept it.
'...One layer shattered.'
A single swing of the staff shattered Black Heaven's barrier, and the Black Heaven filling the gap barely managed to block it.
That was the sheer force behind a simple swing. Cold sweat trickled down Frondier's back.
"When I cast the Curse on Frondier in the past, he didn't look like you."
"...Look?"
That peculiar choice of words pricked at Frondier's instincts.
"Yes, the shape of the soul."
At those words, Frondier finally understood the situation.
Belphegor wasn't lying or mistaken. Nor was Frondier's earlier assumption incorrect.
Belphegor was merely stating the facts—from his perspective.
"Devils don't distinguish humans by their faces. It's the same as how you humans don't bother distinguishing between individual cows or pigs."
Belphegor's words reminded Frondier of the recent incident where countless devils had invaded the Imperial Palace.
Looking back now, he couldn't recall any distinctive features on their faces. Only beings like Satan or Belphegor here had distinguishable faces—lower-ranked devils all looked alike.
So, in that sense, Belphegor was right.
"You are not Frondier. Who are you? Why are you pretending to be Frondier and siding with the Empire?"
Frondier was a Possessed human. He wasn't from this world.
Of course, there was no way he could explain that.
"Unfortunately,"
Whoosh!
BOOM!
This time, Frondier's Black Heaven lashed out—only to be blocked by Belphegor's mana barrier.
Their weapons locked in a perfect standoff, each pushing to sever the other's life.
Amidst the tremendous clash of forces, both Belphegor and Frondier remained composed.
"I am Frondier."
"...Well, whatever."
Belphegor shook his head, as if giving up on uncovering his identity—or perhaps just out of annoyance.
"I was looking forward to fighting Osprey, but instead, some trash showed up."
Belphegor clenched his free hand into a fist,
then lightly swung it.
BOOM!
"Guhk!"
Frondier took the blow and was sent flying.
THUD! CRASH! THUD!
He hit the ground, bouncing and tumbling several times before finally rolling to a stop.
"Kgh... Hah!"
Even with Black Heaven and Aura defending him, the residual damage was that severe.
Frondier hurriedly raised his head.
Above, Belphegor's empty hand rose once more. His seemingly effortless hand clenched into a fist, then opened again.
"...!"
A massive fireball formed above it, blazing fiercely.
"Burn to death, impostor."
WHOOSH!
Belphegor casually tossed the fireball, and Frondier blocked it with Black Heaven infused with Aura.
"Huup!"
It wasn't just sheer heat—it carried explosive force as well, making Frondier frown. He was defending to the best of his ability, but the damage kept piling up.
Belphegor's bored eyes observed Frondier's Black Heaven.
"...Helheim, is it?"
"!"
Belphegor recognized it at a glance. This time, he raised a finger.
"You've brought something quite peculiar from a very distant place. Is that your last hope?"
Less than a second passed before electricity crackled from that finger.
ZZZAP!
As Belphegor extended his hand, lightning surged toward Frondier.
No matter how fast Black Heaven was, it couldn't outpace lightning.
And yet, the lightning that should have struck Frondier without fail—
Fizz!
"...Huu."
—simply vanished without a trace, and Frondier exhaled lightly.
"...?"
Belphegor tilted his head in confusion.
The lightning had struck directly, yet there wasn't a single wound. No, not even a sign that he'd been hit at all.
"I see. Devils can wield Aura without needing to learn it. I suppose the same applies to magic."
Frondier admitted it with genuine admiration.
The sheer power of those spells—both fire and lightning—would take even a skilled human mage considerable time to cast.
But Belphegor was different. He wielded mana as effortlessly as his own limbs, making his spellcasting speed absurdly fast.
And that punch he'd thrown before the spells. Frondier feared that single strike more than any of the magic.
"......How are you unharmed after being struck by lightning?"
"It's simple—because I wasn't hit."
Frondier responded with an expression that suggested the answer was obvious, then pointed above his head with a finger.
Belphegor's gaze followed upward.
Above them in the sky hovered a short-handled hammer.
Crackling with lightning, it trembled as if about to unleash its stored energy at any moment.
"That thing is greedy."
"......That weapon—don't tell me you—"
Void Fabrication, Simultaneous Replication
Imperial Armory
Spears, Tenfold Replication
Frondier erected ten spears around Belphegor, encircling him in a ring.
Belphegor's eyes widened in shock.
"......Fabrication!"
"What, you already knew about it?"
Frondier raised his finger toward the sky. In response, Mjolnir glowed even brighter.
"The place I trust isn't 'Helheim.'"
Frondier met Belphegor's gaze directly as he spoke.
"The fact that I am a 'fake'—that is my faith."
Immediately after, his finger slashed downward as if delivering a verdict toward Belphegor, and—
KWA-RRRRUM!
Mjolnir, still brimming with Belphegor's own lightning, discharged it into the spears. The spears linked together with crackling currents, amplifying the energy before unleashing it outward.
"......Hmph."
Belphegor raised his staff. Just before the currents surged toward him, his mana barrier thickened further, shielding him.
CRACKLE!
ZZZZT!
The lightning inflicted significant damage to Belphegor's barrier, but he remained unscathed inside.
As the lightning continued to batter his barrier, Belphegor thought:
'Could that truly be Mjolnir?'
The hammer that had swallowed the lightning meant for Frondier. It couldn't simply be acting as a lightning rod—there was no way it could have drawn in a direct strike meant for Frondier to that position.
Just as Frondier had said, it was as if the hammer itself had a voracious appetite, devouring the lightning.
'As long as that hammer exists, I shouldn't recklessly use lightning magic.'
Just as Belphegor reached that conclusion—
"Let's see how sturdy your mana barrier really is."
He saw Frondier—now right in front of him.
Frondier, who had been on the ground mere moments ago, had closed the distance in an instant with a single leap and flight.
"......!"
Frondier gripped a sword in both hands, and within it pulsed an absurdly explosive surge of mana—far beyond what any single person should be able to wield.
A sword of light that devoured its wielder's mana, amplified it, and exploded with impossible synergy.
A legendary blade with no special abilities beyond sheer destructive force—one that dared to challenge the domain of the gods—now descended upon Belphegor.
KWA-AANG!!
"Guh—!"
Belphegor's mana barrier shattered in an instant, and he barely managed to evade the terrifying strike.
He had known immediately that his barrier wouldn't hold for even a moment. That was the only reason he could dodge at all.
"You... bastard...!"
Close-quarters combat resumed, and Belphegor's fists rained down in rapid succession. In response, all of Frondier's Black Heaven reacted.
BANG! CRASH! KWAANG!
Frondier barely managed to navigate between Belphegor's relentless attacks. Black Heaven blocked some, his sword parried others, and he used every ounce of his strength to deflect and evade.
"......!"
Belphegor's eyes widened. Frondier, who had been sent crashing into the ground in a pitiful state moments ago, was now countering his attacks.
Frondier's raw strength was inferior to Belphegor's. His speed, too. In every measurable stat, Frondier was a step below Belphegor.
But—
—That was only the 'basics' of combat.
—The foundation of battle was prediction. Reading shifts in shoulders, waist, and center of gravity to anticipate the opponent's next move.
Frondier, over the long passage of time—
Beyond awakening Fabrication, obtaining Black Heaven, acquiring Menosorpo, and gaining the Mana of Helheim—
Had spent hundreds of times more hours being relentlessly pummeled by one man.
—What I teach you is combat designed specifically against Monsters. The reason you don't understand this is simple.
—You've only fought mindless beasts so far.
Frondier closed the distance. Weaker, slower—yet still, he countered Belphegor, even finding openings in Belphegor's movements.
"......Futile effort!"
Belphegor swung his staff in retaliation.
The air itself trembled, saturated with aura, leaving no room for even clumsy evasion.
At that moment—
The sword hidden in Frondier's chest flared to life.
Aitze's Unique Spear Technique
Frondier-Style Sword Adaptation
The Falling Sheet.
Belphegor's staff makes contact with the sword—and is sent soaring into the sky.
In his right hand, the swirling tempest of Excalibur.
In his left, the dagger of Neil Jack, unfurling the Falling Sheet.
Twin blades.