Chapter 120
Chapter 120
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 120
Chapter Title: The Crumbling City, Ptahah (3)
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*
More than half the city had been reduced to ashes. Though their forces held the advantage, the magic cannons positioned on the outskirts were stripping it away with every shell they fired.
Tamptis, the High Priest of the Court. Her spell was visible, blocking the magic shells. A miraculous feat. To halt those massive cannons with a single incantation.
But that was all. The battlefield was vast, and he had no other mages capable of wielding spells on her level. Tutan Gartep scowled as he gripped and then released the hilt of his sword.
[Not yet? Not yet, you incompetents!]
[O New King, be patient. Their struggles are futile, and our reinforcements will arrive soon.]
[How far have Karatra's legions advanced?]
[According to the dispatch, they will begin the siege before dawn breaks.]
[Ugh...!!]
Tutan Gartep stood on the balcony, gazing at the night sky. It was already turning pale blue. Just two more hours. In that time, his legions would breach the walls and reclaim the city.
-Pheeeew...
And then, a strange whistling sound tore through the air as a shell pierced the sky. Tutan Gartep stared blankly at the projectile hurtling straight toward the palace.
-Pheeeew...
A grayish-white trail. The intricate spells woven into it frictioned against the atmosphere, tracing afterimages of mana. It seemed to move in surreal slow motion—a high-mass magic shell conjured solely for destruction and slaughter, flying straight at him.
-KABOOOOM!!
The shell soon collided somewhere right before the Pharaoh's eyes, erupting in a massive explosion. Neither the wind nor the shockwave reached him.
The pinnacle of Ivory Citadel defensive spells. An unbreakable ward that could only be breached by an ancient dragon's breath, a dwarf's flame cannon, or a great demon's curse enveloped the palace exterior.
The Pharaoh scanned beyond the walls with blazing eyes, searching for Neferka who must be watching this spectacle somewhere out there. The bastard knew full well that such an attack couldn't harm the Pharaoh's abode.
But—
-Krrrack.
Thin blue cracks began spiderwebbing across the empty air. The magic cannons, crude imitations of dwarven technology, couldn't match their firepower. Yet they still delivered sufficient impact.
Soon, more trails from the magic cannons followed from atop the walls. Relentless, they pounded the palace. They had judged that striking the palace directly was better than shelling the city center to block the Pharaoh's guards.
[Fools...!]
-BOOOOM!!
Explosions rocked the palace barriers. Destructive mana from the shells flowed along the now semi-transparent protective spell in a circular pattern.
-Crrrackle.
More cracks raced across it. The palace's wards and supporting mana were not infinite. It was a battle of time.
Gradually, dawn began to break in the east. And far on the horizon, a dust cloud rose.
[Hurry!!]
Tutan Gartep snarled, gripping the terrace railing tightly. Blinding flashes from the cannon shells hammered the palace outskirts relentlessly. The time the spells could hold versus the time for the Pharaoh's legions to enter the city center.
A race against time.
Until the wildcard arrived.
*
[Stop him!!]
The guard who shouted that collapsed with his skull split open. Fernandez swung King Dain's greatsword as he pressed forward. Bone shards flew, powdered bone scattered. The guards sworn to eternal loyalty to the Pharaoh charged until their souls disintegrated.
'Troublesome.'
Fernandez thought as he swept his blade wide. The palace corridors leading to the throne room were filled with guards and their corpses. He glanced at the brightening sky and bit his lip.
'How much time do we have left?'
-Are you asking about the time your mana will hold? Or the time Neferka has left?
'Both.'
-Your mana... it'll run out in about an hour.
'By calculation, the Pharaoh's legions will arrive within that window too.'
The hell mana corruption was steadily being pushed out of his body. Fernandez struggled to cling to it, but the divine blood burning within relentlessly purged the curse.
What a damn efficient body. He clicked his tongue, staring at his left arm, which was nearly fully restored. The arm corrupted up to the forearm by the Necropolis and hell was now cleansed down to just above the wrist.
He had to settle it before then. Fernandez quickened his pace. The guards surged fiercely.
"Clear the way!"
[Stop him!! Stop him, warriors of Asit!]
Conflicting shouts erupted. Fernandez tsked shortly, lowering his stance. His thighs tensed and bunched, demonica blood pumping between muscle fibers and tendons.
-Thump, thump, thump!
At peak tension, Fernandez lunged. Like a charging lion, he leaped while crossing the greatsword and slashing the air.
-Shraaa!
The dark greatsword gleamed against the blue-glass-studded lanterns. Devouring light, it surged forward, forward—
-CRUNCH!!
Guards in its path shattered from the impact, scattering in all directions!
[Wh-what power!!]
[N-no, he's no human!!]
"Hearing that from a ghost stings a bit."
Fernandez smirked as he landed and assumed a stance. In that gap, the undead rushed him. He drew the greatsword long to the side, and his blue eyes flashed between the gaps in his bracers.
-CRUNCH!
Once more. The sword danced.
*
How many had he cut down? How much time had passed? Fernandez steadied his ragged breath up to his jawline and stared ahead with fatigue-clouded eyes.
The palace's long corridor was littered with shattered bone fragments. Blood oozed from bruises, cuts, and abrasions across his body.
-CRUNCH.
Finally, he drove the greatsword into a twitching skull, leaning on it briefly as he panted. Sweat and blood dripped from his fingertips to the floor.
'Normally, I'd strike a pose or something.'
-For who? That dragon or the beastkin girl?
'Yeah. Something like "this isn't even my blood" blah blah.'
-Haha. Hilarious.
Fernandez chuckled along with Feizashi's laughter. Even a brief rest restored power surging through his muscles. As if burning life to convert to stamina, his heart pounded fiercely.
-Sssizzle...
The hell mana aura was receding from above his wrist to his hand. Before this power faded—
"I've gotta reach it."
He muttered, staring at the massive doors ahead—the throne room. An enormous stone gate blocked his path, embossed with gods and Pharaohs, sun and moon, and a giant scale.
Hoo, Fernandez exhaled, spinning the greatsword and sheathing it on his back. The knight's time was over. Now came the more delicate phase.
-Zzt...
The moment his extended hand touched the stone gate, sparks flew, repelling him. He rubbed his numb fingertips and stepped back.
"A lion's curse, huh."
-We could force it open... but it'd take time.
"Can't do that. Time's the one resource we don't have."
Not even life was more precious than it. He'd regressed to gain that 'time.' Fernandez smiled, forming hand seals.
"So, let's take the quick way."
A dagger in one's bosom should be drawn when needed.
*
[O New King.]
The final messenger urged evacuation before vanishing. He was the fifth servant to report from the palace interior, and the previous four had been more hopeful than this one.
First.
-An intruder dared infiltrate, but your glorious warriors intercepted him.
Thirty minutes later.
-The intruder's divinity is threatening, but pales before our warriors' feats.
An hour after that.
-He has passed the gate of knives. But the warriors awaiting at the lion's gate are one-man armies, and his strength is negligible.
The next servant arrived with barely concealed anxious eyes, prostrating deeply.
-...O New King. He shall never reach the throne room.
And the one who just burst in shouted desperately without even time to plead, then fled straight out the throne room doors. Through the briefly open gap, the clash of weapons echoed.
-We shall seal the throne room entrance. O New King, preserve your sacred body.
Kahareper silently watched the Pharaoh from the outer terrace, overlooking the city. The Pharaoh stared vacantly at his scarred, ruined city, shoulders slumped.
-KABOOOM!
A magic shell slammed before his eyes, scattering massive flames. The palace wards now barely functioned, blue cracks webbing the air like spider silk.
The Pharaoh snapped his jaw shut and unleashed a psychic wave. Sorrow, anger, pain, hatred—emotions unfit for a god's descendant.
[Behold, great warrior.]
He pointed to the city below. Guards shattering under wall bombardment littered the streets. Even after a thousand years, a thousand summers. Warriors who had sworn undying loyalty.
[In my lifetime, our lifetimes. When this empire was still an empire. When this wasteland was verdant grassland, and our children played by rivers and streams. No foreigner ever violated this city.]
[...]
Tutan Gartep's voice grew quieter.
[Even when that necromancer subjugated us between those times. Even after we were all trapped beneath that pyramid, reduced to mere ghosts, this city... this city was never violated by outsiders.]
[O New King...]
[I swore to my ancestors.]
Tutan Gartep gripped the terrace fiercely, snarling.
[I would restore our people to how they should have been. Escaping the necromancer's bonds was a miracle, and miracles always bring duty. I... great warrior. Your New King will unify this great wilderness, subjugate the entire world. Gather every spell and incantation, miracle and faith from somewhere in this world...]
The Pharaoh's words grew fervent. Kahareper bowed, listening to the dead king's ambitions. Were they sincere, or excuses to cloak personal desires?
[So that we might return to our rightful form.]
[O New King. Then, will you evade this crisis now?]
Secret passages existed in the throne room. Hidden paths known only to royal blood. Kahareper knew of them. But the Pharaoh shook his head.
[Tutan Gartep never flees.]
-KABOOOM!!
A magic shell struck the palace directly. With a harsh rupture, the protective spells finally shattered. The Pharaoh turned, glaring at the throne room stone doors beyond the long corridor.
[Proclaim it. Tutan Gartep never flees.]
[Answer one thing.]
Kahareper slowly raised his head and stood.
[O New King. Was your conquest of this wasteland truly for the greater good?]
[I am the greater good.]
Kahareper sighed lowly at his words. Stubbornness and madness mingled in the Pharaoh's psychic emanations. Surely his resolve and oaths had been righteous...
After a brief hesitation, Kahareper stood and turned. The Pharaoh's voice came from behind.
[I knew.]
[Is that so?]
[A great warrior should charge first against invaders. Yet you insisted on guarding me, sending my limbs outward—not from loyalty.]
[Then why keep me at your side?]
[Tutan Gartep never flees.]
Thus, that formidable intruder tempting you to betray me...
Proclaim it.
Feeling the Pharaoh's psychic wave on his back, Kahareper pushed the doors. The stone gates ground open with friction. Through them, a man drenched in blood and sweat slowly entered.
The man's eyes met the Pharaoh's at the throne room's end, back to the terrace. For a moment, their gazes locked.
"Tutan Gartep. Your great warrior seems deeply conflicted. Regretful, maybe."
[What does it matter?]
"If your words are true—if you just want freedom from those bonds and that damned great demon's gaze. I'll help you."
[Tutan Gartep makes no deals.]
"Become my vassal."
[Tutan Gartep submits to no one.]
The Pharaoh's arrogant eyes blazed. Fernandez met them with a smile.
"Dale Pertasa, even when he and the entire Necropolis conclave charged me at once back then... he was no match."
So come. I'll teach you submission. Fernandez slowly formed hand seals, staring at him.
Tutan Gartep's eyes wavered.