104. In the Name of the Southern Alliance
The energy that demon kings and their towers absorbed came in many forms.
The most representative were intangible negative emotions like sorrow, anger, curses, and despair—but those were merely supplementary means at best.
Blood and life. Nothing was as noble or superior as the innate energy possessed by living creatures. In other dimensions, it was standard practice to drive humans to death and convert it into magic points.
But Alein made that impossible.
Summoning blood meant summoning death, and no humans or heroes would stand by idly while a demon king brought death upon them.
In other words, the dominance of magic point generation through negative emotions was proof that demon kings were the weak ones on Alein.
And the fact that it had become the mainstream out of necessity implied that other methods were far superior.
There had been a whopping three battles already.
Though not massive wars involving thousands or tens of thousands clashing, the involvement of monsters had led to even more deaths.
And these weren't mere humans—they were predominantly knights and mages who had accumulated mana and aura.
The superior the caliber of human, the greater the life energy that could be harvested from them.
That was why.
The provisional towers were brimming with a considerable amount of negative energy.
Far more than he had anticipated.
It gave him a sense of just how fiercely they had fought, cursing each other to the bitter end.
"So the cavern with the mana vein is currently held by the Southern Alliance?"
"Yes, that's correct."
"Then I need to pay it a visit."
Berge left Ernan Hildean, Roger Friedri, and the elves behind with the Southern Alliance and headed alone to the Philerium Mountains.
As he neared the cave leading to the mana vein, he sensed quite a few presences.
They had built a wooden palisade around the cave entrance and established a camp. Easily a thousand strong. It was clear how much weight the Southern Alliance placed on this mana stone mine.
'No Pablo Barkat.'
He was probably inside the cave.
There was more than one tunnel leading to the cavern with the mana vein, and the point where the empire and the alliance faced off was ultimately that shared cavern.
He slipped past the sentries and entered. After that, it was easy. The cave was dark, and darkness was like home to a demon king.
He raced forward swiftly. The occasional soldiers he spotted failed to notice his presence.
"Wind?"
The cavern he finally reached was filled with thorough preparations. They had erected barricades of wood and stone, dug traps, and set up magic circles.
Thanks to the high ceiling, they had even built watchtowers and stationed archers. A few mana cannons were present as well.
It was the full force of their commitment.
'The future has changed.'
Previously, the empire had been on defense here, but this time it was the Southern Alliance.
Could the empire reclaim this place now?
Berge knocked out a knight on outer perimeter duty, swapped clothes with him, and buried the unconscious man in the ground. He donned the helmet to fully conceal his face and suppressed his energy as much as possible.
"Hey, time for the shift change."
After waiting a moment, a new knight arrived.
"Got it."
"Damn it all, a high-caliber guy like me stuck on sentry duty. You know what I mean?"
"They brought mostly knights instead of regular soldiers, so no choice."
"Your accent's unusual."
The knight checked the emblem on his armor.
"From Torcan?"
"Yeah."
"They've got a lot of foreign trade over there, right?"
"Maritime commerce is pretty active."
After matching the conversation briefly, Berge slipped away from the watchtower. He passed numerous knights and mages, but none paid him any mind.
"Huh?"
All but one.
"You there."
Berge swallowed hard, focusing even more on concealing his energy.
"Something familiar about your aura. Unusually pure..."
Pablo Barkat furrowed his brow.
"From the Kingdom of Torcan?"
"Yes."
"Your voice rings a bell too... Take off your helmet."
"Pardon?"
"I said take off the helmet."
'Shit?'
He had infiltrated to check things out up close, but he hadn't expected to get made this quickly.
'Just bolt?'
Wouldn't that just end with him suspected as an imperial spy?
As he pondered, it happened.
Ding-dong-dang—
The alarm blared.
"Enemy!"
"Imperial forces!"
"Those damn bastards again."
The camp erupted in chaos. Pablo Barkat spat a curse and rushed off. Berge let out a sigh of relief.
'Lucky break.'
Perfect timing, really. He wanted to observe the clash between these two groups anyway.
Berge blended in with the other knights and headed to the barricade.
Clack—
Pablo Barkat lowered his visor.
Rumble-rumble-rumble—
The ground shook. The vibrations amplified in the tunnel and cavern.
"Horses? Here?"
"No way."
Horses were fast and powerful creatures, but constrained by space.
Especially in a narrow, damp tunnel and a cavern that was large but effectively sealed.
Horses were sensitive beasts, and riding them in such conditions was never wise.
Pablo thought the same. So he figured it was just one or two making all that noise—the echoes and vibrations exaggerated by the cave.
But.
"Insane!"
"These crazy bastards are charging in here?"
Turning the corner came nearly fifty knights in full formation, fully armored and charging ahead.
'Near-miraculous horsemanship.'
Pablo was impressed they had brought horses this far and were even galloping. But reality soon hit: the threat was closing in fast.
"Open the gate!"
"Your Highness!"
"Those makeshift logs won't stop their charge. I'll hold them myself!"
The gate opened. Pablo hurriedly took the front line, his elite Black Wing Knights gripping shields alongside him.
"Your Highness."
"Stay sharp. That's..."
Pablo gritted his teeth.
Charging lances were leveled. Aura surged. Over fifty auras resonated in unison.
They merged and coalesced into one form.
The knight order closed in rapidly. Magic traps triggered. Soldiers on the palisade loosed arrows.
But nothing pierced the resonating aura.
"...the Crimson Dragon Knights."
"M-My God!"
As the distance shrank, the emblem on their armor became clear.
A vivid dragon emblem, as if roaring at any moment, dyed blood-red.
The crest symbolizing the Jespain Empire.
"You filthy dogs...!"
Pablo unleashed his aura to the max. The alliance forces cheered at the near-5-meter giant sword of energy.
"Your Highness!"
"We've got His Highness on our side!"
The alliance troops, intimidated by his presence, regained their morale.
Pablo thrust his sword forward and took a step.
The knights arrived.
———!
The ground flipped.
Horses screamed.
The palisade crumbled.
People tumbled.
And Pablo Barkat was pushed back.
"Nngh...!"
His aura shattered. Muscles tore. His eyes bloodshot.
Yet Pablo held.
But not his subordinates. The Black Wings couldn't match the red dragon.
Kyahaaak—
Cough—
Black Wing Knights flew back screaming.
The formation collapsed. Hundreds of imperial troops poured in behind.
"You sons of bitches...!"
Pablo swung at an enemy knight.
Clang—
Red aura blocked him.
"You must be the famed Pablo Barkat. It's an honor to cross blades with you. I am Hailo, captain of the Crimson Dragon Knights..."
"I don't give a damn about a corpse's name—shut your trap!"
No room for two defeats. Pablo roared.
The full-scale battle over the mana vein erupted.
'Crimson Dragon Knights, huh...'
The empire had gone all-in.
Dragons were the symbol of the Jespain imperial family.
The highest emblem, permitted only to five elite knight orders.
Directly under the imperial family.
The empire's mightiest force across its vast lands.
Ferocious, strong, superior.
With the Crimson Dragon Knights committing to a full lance charge, it was as good as decided—the wings broken, the dragon roaring in victory.
'It's over.'
Pablo Barkat fought valiantly, but the Crimson Dragon captain was a close match, and the Southern Alliance—whose formation crumbled from the start—drowned in the knights' infamous reputation.
The overall skill gap was vast.
Why else was it called an empire?
How had it remained an empire?
Before absolute might, the alliance crumbled swiftly.
The alliance's blunder was holding back their best against each other even facing the empire, cowed by the Crimson Dragons' fame.
And the empire had exploited that gap, sending one of its top forces.
Of course, this was just a skirmish. For the alliance, a single loss after multiple victories—one they could reclaim anytime.
'They won't give up this easily.'
But a seed of unease did sprout.
In his previous life, the empire's occupation of the vein had ended it.
This could be the trigger for the same outcome.
Sending the Crimson Dragons meant the empire was dead serious, with no intention of backing down.
If they kept losing, the alliance would abandon it eventually. Just like before.
'That won't do.'
Not what Berge wanted.
The war needed to continue.
Grow bigger, fiercer.
The longer it dragged, the more he'd gain.
'This battlefield's scent.'
Anger, resentment, curses aimed at each other.
Pain-filled screams.
Overflowing blood.
Fading life force.
All of it beautiful.
To sustain this beauty, balance was key.
And Berge was currently wearing a Southern Alliance knight's armor.
He drew the knight's sword.
Suppressed his presence and slipped into the chaotic battlefield.
Toward the fiercest spot.
"Die!"
A flash cleaved space. The Crimson Dragon captain staggered.
Pablo advanced as he retreated, unleashing a fiercer slash. But swords stabbed from both flanks, exploiting the gap.
In that interval, the Crimson Dragon captain steadied himself.
"You cowardly bastards!"
"Where's cowardice in war?"
"Aren't you ashamed of the Crimson Dragon name?"
"Didn't expect you to worry about us. Rest easy—no one will fault ganging up on the South's hero."
Objectively, Pablo outmatched the captain one-on-one.
But the Crimson Dragons weren't alone, and Pablo kept missing key openings.
"Shut up!"
Pablo raged. Feigned rage.
'Give flesh to take bone.'
He charged like a maddened bull.
——!
Outmatched in power, the Crimson Dragon captain stepped back. As expected, knights' swords targeted his blind spots.
Pablo twisted. Poured more strength into his sword grip.
Kakaka—
Red aura sliced armor, dug into flesh.
Dizzying pain assailed him.
But not fatal. He gritted his teeth and shoved forward.
His blade clashed with the opponent's again.
Clang—
But this time was different.
The all-or-nothing strike bounced the hastily raised guard.
The chest opened.
Pablo's eyes flashed.
'Thrust.'
And kill. Even if not, inflict a mortal wound. Turn the tide.
"Not so fast!"
But another sword appeared. A Crimson Dragon knight, clashing with Pablo's.
No mere knight could block Pablo. But the slight rebound cost precious time.
And that moment was enough for the Crimson Dragon captain to recover.
"You mongrel scum...!"
Pablo's eyes went bloodshot.
He felt like vomiting blood at the golden opportunity slipping away.
That instant—
Kwachak—
A snow-white blade burst through the Crimson Dragon captain's chest.
"...Huh?"
"...Huh?"
Pablo's pupils dilated.
Red blood trickled down the blade.
"Long live the Southern Alliance! Long live Prince Pablo Barkat!"
The knight who had ambushed the captain from behind shouted.
His gaze turned to Pablo. Their eyes met.
'Red eyes?'
The glimpse through the visor was red and resolute.
Did they have a knight like that?
"Imperial dogs! Who gave you the right to covet this land? This is God's providence—of the Southern Alliance, by the Southern Alliance, for the Southern Alliance!"
The knight roared.
'God?'
Rooooar—
The alliance soldiers, witnessing the feat, erupted in cheers.