Chapter 71
Chapter 71
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 71
Chapter Title: O King, O King. (1)
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*
The afterimage of Flint Spark faded, and his vision went dark. But thanks to that, the sharp senses of a Religiosa Demonica were reviving instead. His jumbled senses realigned, bringing back his hearing, touch, and instincts that he had lost.
-Shoooo...
Fernandez felt a tingling pain in his slowly recovering nervous system as he heard the sound of pouring rain. A fairly large hole connected to the surface above. The wind blowing into this cavern must have been due to that.
"Huuu..."
Amid the damp rainwater, he faintly caught the metallic tang of wet blood. Whispers and presences mixed in with the rain sounds. He couldn't tell if it was magic or skill, but they were suppressing their presences to the extreme and hiding.
-Sssring.
Fernandez drew his greatsword and steadied his breathing as he assumed a stance. His sense of balance was still a mess, but it seemed suitable for loosening up.
-Kurrrung...
Vibrations descending from the surface far away were shaking the cavern. Fernandez recalled the giant's movements he had seen before space-jumping. There was no time.
‘The Bronze Throne?’
-Who knows, about half a day?
‘I need to repair it as fast as possible. Can't use it when I need it.’
His hearing sharpened gradually, making the whispers mixed in with the rain sounds clearer and sharper. He leaped into the center of the cavern where the rainwater poured down. Cold raindrops pelted his body, and vitality began to course through him more and more.
-Splash.
Something followed him into the rainwater. Fernandez was now almost in love with the performance of a Religiosa Demonica's body. To think he could hear even these tiny sounds one by one!
-One coming, right side. At the throat!
-Clang!
Before Feizashi could finish speaking, Fernandez swung his greatsword toward the right. He felt the sensation of a dagger clashing against the blade and bouncing off.
"Kuh!! Y-You can see!?"
A hoarse, phlegmy voice rang out. Blocking that ambush just now was like a miracle born from his instincts and the Demonica's hearing. Fernandez swung his greatsword toward where the voice had come from.
-Splash!
He heard raindrops scattering off the greatsword's blade. In the darkness, Fernandez moved like an enraged lion. Raindrops scattered in all directions, and he heard each one bouncing off.
With his vision blocked, his hearing, touch, and survival instincts—sharpened to the extreme—pounded at his heart. He swung the sword on spinal reflex.
-Slash!
He felt something catching on the sword tip and tearing apart. It was a fairly heavy sensation. Fernandez grinned ferociously and swung the sword. Bigger. Bigger!
-Splash!
"Number 4's down! My god. Is it a monster?"
"Why did the Conclave bring a guy like that?"
"How is it even alive! Is that even human?"
"Didn't you see it regenerate? It's like a chimera!"
"Which faction sent interference!!"
Terrified voices echoed through the cavern. Judging by the sound's reverb, there were at most five of them. After one died, no more presences approached. Fernandez caught his breath for a moment and lowered his sword.
"U-Use spells!"
"Don't! You wanna die!! This is a powder keg!"
The displeasing sensation stabbing at his soul was the afterglow of mana, perhaps. Fernandez focused on the feel of the sword hilt in his grip. He missed the stability of holding something. Anyone whose body had been shattered to pieces would feel the same.
"Damn it. Damn it. Buy time! Throw the grunts at it!"
"The spell isn't complete yet. Those are just fodder at best!"
"It's alone anyway!"
Ah, there it was again. Fernandez remembered that in both his past and present lives, guys who said that always ended up torn apart by the very lone intruder.
He himself had once said something like that to a certain god's champion. That day, he lost all his subordinates and fled his stronghold. It was forty years from now.
‘How old is Dairan Shrike right now?’
-Same age as us.
‘I should pay him a visit. That guy.’
This time, at least, there wouldn't be any bad blood with that damn bastard. Fernandez chuckled. In the meantime, he heard heavy footsteps approaching him.
‘Three? No, five.’
-The Demonica body is definitely top-notch.
-Clack.
Like golems, they moved mechanically, surrounding him. Fernandez felt the greatsword's recoil as he swung at the closest one approaching.
-Clang!
‘It blocked?!’
-Death Knights. No reason, but old souls build up instincts. West, from above down!
-Clang!
At Feizashi's words, Fernandez quickly flipped the sword behind his back to block the attack. The weight transmitted through the greatsword was immense. The moment their blades met, something ticklish stirred below his chest. A strange foreign sensation.
-Krrrrch!
He wrenched the sword free by force, and sparks flew as the greatsword's blade chipped. In that brief instant, Fernandez saw a rusty sword thrusting horizontally at his head.
-Splash!
The sword cut through the rain into empty space. Fernandez rolled low to escape their range.
"Look at those moves—it's really seeing us?"
"Shh, focus on the ritual! It's almost done!"
Whatever they were preparing, he had to end it before then. Vision overload from the mystic sight blocked mana flow detection. He had to rely purely on the Demonica's body and the divinity flowing through his bloodline to sense traces of magic.
-Clang!
He deflected another blade piercing through the rain. Fortunately, there were gaps between their movements. Fernandez parried the incoming sword and slithered through the opening like a snake.
-Krrch!
After a moment of resistance, he felt the greatsword's blade shredding and shattering the thing's armor. A definite weight. Without stopping, he twisted to dodge the next attack.
-Splash!
-Two at once. Fall back!
‘No, this is the chance!’
[When facing force with force, this is how they break your offense.]
It felt like Abel's voice. The body movements she had shown in their past sparring replayed in his mind. Like this?
-Thung!
Fernandez's sword traced a soft curve, catching their blades in a crossguard, then used the momentum to whip away like a spring. They were just pressing down with brute strength.
The elastic core harnessed the recoil to coil in, and Fernandez snapped his waist, sweeping the greatsword wide!
-Krrrrch!
He cleaved it. A solid sensation.
-Thud!
He felt their bodies collapsing. Shaking off the strain from the sudden twist, Fernandez paused briefly.
-Splash!
-Left!
He whipped his head around hastily, but a stinging pain rose on his cheek. A thrust loaded with immense power! Fernandez rolled as the shock rattled his brain and shook his balance. His body slipped on the rainwater.
-Above!
-Krrrrch!
At the sound slicing through the rain, Fernandez sprang up and swung. Blades tangled midair, scattering sparks again. Two foes—one recovering from the offense's impact, the next attack incoming. Soon!
-Krrch!
He bashed the stationary one's head, then straight to the next!
-Clang!
At the perfect timing, blades clashed, and the greatsword wrapped around pleasingly. This would work! His instincts screamed. He twisted the blade to deflect the offense and thrust straight in. A sturdy stab straight out of the manual!
-Kwach!
He took off another head, then next! Tendons writhed in his right arm. Divinity-laden blood raced madly through his veins. His hyper-heightened senses hammered his instincts awake!
"This ends it!"
-Krrrrch!
The greatsword's blade twisted into the staggering one's head, and he vividly felt the helmet and bone crunching. Death Knights were immune to most physical injuries—
Like Walkers, ghouls, and most undead constructs, their heads were the weak point. Fernandez exhaled hot breath, slammed the blade into the ground, and paused.
"Five Round Table Knights alone?!"
"A-A even without reason. In the pitch dark!!"
The ancient Round Table Knights who died long ago. The process to preserve and revive them mimicking their living prowess as much as possible was so complex and finicky. During King Dane's reign, the burial cult collapsed once, and most techniques were lost, making this level of undead their limit.
Reviving the hill giant had required Necropolis aid, but now their best emergency measures using burial cult power alone were all thwarted!
‘Something feels off.’
-Why?
‘The hill giant got revived.’
-Hm?
Fernandez gauged the direction of the voices and picked up a fallen sword. His arm twitched and bulged.
‘Remember what that race monk in the abandoned mine said?’
-That dimwit. Yeah.
‘His goal wasn't reviving the hill giant.’
-Kwach!
Something shattered far away. Like rock breaking off. As if forcibly ripping out something that had been embedded there for a very long time.
His instincts began ringing alarms like mad.
‘His goal was reviving the Founding King.’
-Raising the Founding King's corpse as a Death Knight won't let them swallow this country. That's a metaphor...
‘Or is it?’
-...
‘If it's not a metaphor?’
-Krrrrch!
When Fernandez decided to come to this country. That is, when he decided to stop the war between Fairn Kingdom and Dane Royal House, the plan he started was to artificially fabricate a reputation worthy of being called the Founding King's return.
Once the fame was secured, use sophisticated diplomatic engineering to resolve the situation.
A somewhat grandiose plan to fabricate the tale of a great hero with war-deterring power in itself.
How? How could someone without royal blood claim such a story?
Fortunately, the Founding King's legend, like those of many heroes, ended with a prophecy of return.
When death returns, legendary monsters and demons, and horrific chaos descend.
The vanished king would return to save the people—a hopeful epic.
-Krrrrch...
-Sssring.
Something far in the darkness drew a sword. Cheers soon echoed through the cavern.
"Success! In our era, success!"
"Damn, I was about to pray toward Necropolis!"
"Hahaha, first test run on that guy will do nicely. Lucky."
Fernandez could hold back no longer and hurled the sword he held. Throwing was one of his most confident skills to begin with. The longsword, infused with great power, traced a clean arc straight toward his predicted direction.
-Kwajik!!
The entity rising in the darkness deflected the longsword, scattering small sparks. A shattered jade throne, robed elders standing around it. A corpse slumped on the floor. A complex magic circle drawn in its blood.
-Fwoosh.
Blue soulfire bloomed in its eyes. The characteristic glow of a lich. It meant the thing had reason.
‘If the wandering wraith and hill giant revival were all part of the plan...’
-...Then a revived Knight King defeating them...’
"Hahaha, kill it. Go kill!!"
Fifteen hundred years was a long time. Long enough to thoroughly corrupt a great hero's soul.
Fernandez swallowed as he stared at the glowing eyes rising tall. At least a head taller than him. Must have been a massive giant in life.
It slowly raised its sword.
-My god. The Knight King truly returns.
‘Thank god Abel isn't here.’
Fernandez sighed and steadied his stance.