Chapter 379
Chapter 379
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 379
Chapter Title: Your Sins Are Forgiven (3)
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Tyban the Crimson Archduke's blessing was utterly simple, unlike those of other great demons. It amplified strength, toughened the skin, and made one's temperament even more relentless.
It was a power designed solely to enable longer rampages of greater destruction. Even the cognitive decline that Feizashi had once called a "horrific penalty" was, in truth, closer to a blessing. It dulled the mind to pursue simple, certain devastation without distraction.
Thus, those who accepted a significant portion of Tyban's power eschewed petty tricks. They charged forward stubbornly, simply, and fiercely—like a bull smashing everything in its path—
-KRAAANG!!
Sigismund's body slammed into the ground, carving out a crater. Dirt erupted toward the sky, flames raged wildly. Vicente, who had been there moments ago, barely dodged and slashed at the monster's side with his blade.
-KA-CHING!
The clash of metal on metal rang out. Vicente let out a hollow laugh and leaped back. Where he had stood, Sigismund's thick forearm now crashed down after resetting its stance.
"This is way too unfair!"
Vicente bellowed as he kept retreating. Boom, boom, boom! He couldn't stop for even a second. Sigismund's arms and axe ravaged everything around them in a whirlwind.
Meanwhile, Fernandez focused solely on evasion, analyzing Sigismund's abilities.
'Physical enhancement around ninefold.'
Considering a standard Religiosa Demonica's capabilities, the monster's output neared that of three combined. But it wasn't just the equivalent of three Demonicas attacking together. It was a beast with nearly three times their raw power and reaction speed.
He knew more about Tyban's power than anyone in the material world—at least theoretically. He glared sharply at Sigismund while maneuvering.
'At least two blessings unlocked.'
Whether great demons or celestial proxies, they couldn't radiate blessings and powers without limit. All immortals demanded a price from mortals beyond a certain threshold and granted recompense accordingly.
Sigismund's toll had likely been his soul, the massacres and destruction he wrought, and promises of more. Indeed, the brute had unleashed indiscriminate slaughter across Fairn territories, allowing Fernandez to roughly gauge the scope of his powers.
Beyond the baseline blessings for strength and durability, there was the destructive power spawned by Zakasmil. And—
-Snap!
[Tricks are useless!!]
"Figured as much."
The test spark Fernandez had flung slid harmlessly off the monster's skin. It wasn't the durability from a wound-repelling amulet or holy relic, but his baseline toughness far exceeded mortal limits.
'Damn it all.'
He remembered commanding such minions in his past life. Disposable soldiers pumped full of Tyban's power. Typically, they served as siege engines in wars or for assassinating key targets.
Facing one head-on now made him freshly appreciate how extraordinary the heroes of old had been. This was a one-on-two now, but those prime-era legends had slain such beasts solo.
And the real problem now was—
'My train of thought keeps breaking...'
Even in this moment, part of Fernandez's consciousness hovered over the battlefield, infusing allies with spells. Illusions granting glimpses three seconds into the future. Waging fierce combat while running such complex, high-calculation magic was grueling.
Against an opponent where a single hit meant death, no less.
"This!"
-KRAAANG!
"I'm gonna die!"
-BOOM!!
Vicente rolled away, yelling. Fernandez nearly let out a hollow laugh at the sight.
The monster's reflexes were three times a Demonica's. Meaning it surpassed superhumans who could snatch arrows mid-flight by triple. Yet Vicente griped even in a situation where he couldn't afford a single mistake.
'He still has spare capacity...?'
Fernandez ducked an attack, pondering. His fragmented thoughts made deep reflection hard. But something felt off.
'Enough leeway to weather a three-Demonica barrage without a scratch?'
Even past-life heroes at their peak would struggle. Just then, Vicente pulled back distance, panting, and shouted.
"Sir Albert!! Got any more spells like before?! Something to take this guy down!"
"Spells aren't—!"
-KWAANG!
—"magic pockets!!"
"Aren't they!!"
Fernandez barely evaded the onslaught and yelled back. Sigismund's forehead veins bulged as he overheard their banter.
[You filthy flies!!]
He clearly hated them dodging everything while chatting. Black ash-like smoke began billowing from Sigismund's mouth. Spotting it, Fernandez dashed to the gasping Vicente, kicked his chest to shove him back, and leaped away.
"Gahk!"
"Dodge!!"
A massive pillar of flame erupted where they'd stood. Heat nearing Abel's levels warped the air.
Vicente scrambled up, chuckling bitterly.
"Spitting fire now too? You still call this human?"
"Second blessing. Breath. A pain of one."
"Any real weaknesses?"
"Don't get hit, hit it a lot. First, that axe—damn it!"
-KWAANG!
Sigismund, already recovered from the breath's recoil, charged like a bull and swung down. The parched earth crumbled pathetically, gravel spraying. Fernandez rolled back twice and sprang up, shouting.
"Knock it out of his hand!"
"Easier said than—shit!"
The skirmish resumed. Aiming for weaknesses with slashes that glanced off skin, dodging falling arms and axes, heads, knees—the back-and-forth.
Slicing each second in half, then half again into fleeting instants, evading three-plus strikes while landing one solid blow. Over and over.
Amid dodges too frantic for a breath, Fernandez strained to reconnect his fraying thoughts. There was always a breakthrough. Experience told him—
'This type's a headache...'
If magic were viable, fine—but pure melee against a foe he couldn't counterattack. In his past life, he'd have pulped it from afar, but now he fought as good as armless.
Vicente was tiring. Truth be told, so was he. Surviving this far, fighting like this, bordered on miracle. After battles that should've exhausted them dozens of times over.
That instant—
-PHEEEW!!
A bee appeared beside his familiar overlooking the field from above. Fernandez whipped his head to dodge an attack and glanced at the slanted hillside behind Sigismund.
-WHOOSH!! CRACK!
Air shredded with noise as Sigismund's head snapped sideways. His motion halted.
A thick handaxe was embedded in the back of his skull. A rugged northern-style blade dug firmly into the center.
"Tough bastard! Threw it to burst your head!"
"Aeren!!"
"Ah, don't yell so happily. Haha, falling for me or what?"
"My benefactor!! Sorry for the delay!!"
Aeren and Kirhas charged down the slope. They flinched at Sigismund's blazing glare.
"That's the Fairn king?"
"Once upon a time."
"Good! Sick of the south. Let's finish quick!"
[Who finishes who?! You vermin!!]
Regaining wits, Sigismund roared and yanked the axe from his skull, hurling it hard. Flame-blood dripped from the wound.
The axe screamed toward Aeren's head. As she raised her shield, Fernandez startled and yelled.
"Don't block! Dodge!!"
-THUNK!
But a dull thud rang as it embedded in the shield. Thick cracks spiderwebbed across it, starting to shatter—yet the frame held.
Fernandez, Vicente, even Sigismund froze at the sight.
"Ah! Shoulda said sooner! I blocked it!"
"Blocked...?"
"You blocked it...?"
How...? Not a direct Zakasmil hit? No, even if damage spread differed, Zakasmil approximated this blessing's spirit. Tyban's power via Zakasmil should've applied identically to his flesh.
Fernandez eyed Sigismund's feet suspiciously. The ground still crumbled under his power. It was intact. But how'd she block?
"Haha, my ancestors deign to watch this body! Begone, fiend!"
"Beitasser...! Of course!!"
Now Fernandez grasped it. Sigismund wielded near-demon-lord physique with Tyban's power—strictly, a mortal body bearing near-divine blessings.
And Aeren was one of Beitasser's daughters! The first ancient angel he forged. Proxy of the Holy Pantheon, symbol of hope. She too—
'Mortal flesh linked to divine spirit!'
Thus her axe struck Sigismund's head. Purely by spirit and power matchup, ignoring combat skill. They were counters.
Fernandez shook his head with a hollow laugh.
"Aeren, how's the battle?"
"Asking that now? Mostly wrapped up!"
"Good. Hold the line briefly!"
"What? Hey! Wait!"
Fernandez rebounded backward, shouting.
"Sigismund! That woman's who you seek! Your master's archfoe, the great archangel!"
"No, don't hype me up like—! Eek! Hey!! You bastard!!"
Sigismund didn't wait, charging forth. Fernandez finally exhaled deeply, joining Vicente.
"You know you're acting like total trash right now?"
"Your Highness, did you perhaps inherit... King Dane's swordsmanship?"
"What...?"
Fernandez steadied his breath, staring at flustered Vicente. Otherwise, his feats defied explanation. In his past life, Vicente hadn't survived this far. But in this altered history, fully inheriting the throne—what level had Vicente reached?
The great knight-king Dain, slayer of giants, whose swordsmanship Fernandez had imprinted on his soul in Dain's crypt. Had it endured in this era, this bloodline?
Vicente nodded hesitantly at the question.
"...To some extent."
"The techniques he used against giants too?"
"Can manage. Needs a moment though."
"We sync from now."
Hearing that, Fernandez snapped his fingers. The battlefield view occupying half his mind blacked out with a pop.
Spells unraveled thread by thread. Mana circuits loosened with ache. The computations sustaining allies on the field faded slowly.
His fevered head cooled strangely. Dulled senses from battle high sharpened— hearing, touch, orientation.
Cracking his neck, Fernandez opened his eyes slowly. Far off, Aeren and Kirhas fought desperately amid panic. Dire straits, yet laughter bubbled inexplicably.
Matching steps with past-life great heroes to topple Tyban's minion—such self-contradiction in himself.
"Your Highness. Together now."
"Where to strike?"
"Left arm's yours. His right—the axe is mine."
Couldn't hand that holy relic lightly. Unknown side effects. Factoring even that in last, Fernandez charged Sigismund with Vicente.