Chapter 211
Chapter 211
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 211
Chapter Title: Even If I Lose the Light 6
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Azadin and Araelle were the children of the traitor Acre, so even when they criticized the Herald clan's bad habits and outdated customs, their words were never taken properly. They were always at a disadvantage in verbal fights.
In this situation, the support from Midiam of the Etar bloodline was a great help, but Sion Etar seemed unable to outtalk Midiam, so he had resorted to an ambush.
Azadin brushed off the ambush and fumed.
"Can't win with words, so you resort to force!? Have some shame!"
Even at those words, Sion's expression remained calm.
"Sometimes, you must use forceful means to guide a child in the right direction."
"And who vouches that your way is right?"
"Many respected elders of our clan. And who vouches for you?"
"The cries of mothers who've lost their children! The blood of innocent civilians staining this city's sewers!"
Sion Etar felt no particular emotion at Azadin's retort.
But the other Heralds were different. Azadin's words made them ashamed of themselves. From the start, they had been dragged here like cattle to the slaughterhouse by Sion Etar.
Their hearts had already been shaken since the nagas began massacring and destroying the city. Azadin's bold declaration and Midiam's pleas pierced their chests. But as long as Sion Etar stood firm as an elder, they had to block Azadin.
Azadin gripped his axe-spear short like tonfa. He wanted to subdue his kin without killing them somehow.
However... could he really subdue them unharmed by swinging this? He was pondering that when—
A gust tearing through the air accompanied a single mace flying in. It took the form of an elegant power staff, thickening from handle to tip.
Grimslown's mace had returned.
'Ah.'
Azadin inwardly chuckled at the sight of the mace returning to him.
When Azadin lost his hand and was defeated, imprisoned, Grimslown's minions had taken their treasure, the power staff.
But the mace's true owner was still Azadin. From the moment Azadin awoke later and commanded it to return to his hand, the mace had abandoned Btuma, left the cultists who fled far away with Grimslown, and flown straight to Azadin—finally arriving now.
"Right on time."
Azadin manipulated the flying Grimslown mace, spinning it in midair. He hurled it forward, transformed into a shield of light by its rapid rotation.
"What is that?!"
"A magic weapon?"
"Nice trick!"
The Aragas scattered far back, dodging Azadin's attack.
'As expected, totally different from regular soldiers. Normal ones would be too busy getting battered to react.'
Herald clansmen, even their servants, were all masters of martial arts and wouldn't go down easily. But for these unmotivated ones, it was a convenient excuse.
"What are you doing?"
Sion Etar scolded those deliberately widening the distance from Azadin.
"It's something we've never seen."
"We had to dodge."
They all made excuses, dawdling.
"Fine then..."
Azadin wanted to quickly take down Sion Etar and free the Herald clansmen fighting without conviction.
But at that sight, Araelle warned him.
"No, Azadin! Ignore Sion and head to the castle!"
Attacking Sion now would make him use his minions as shields to evade, sucking them into a horrific war of attrition. Though her brief words lacked explanation, Azadin understood and fell back.
But as Azadin retreated, Sion stepped forward and seized control of the assault.
'Not to be underestimated.'
As expected of the renowned Etar bloodline? His skill in commanding people was no joke.
The naga army, undead, and even the Nether minions they brought numbered over a hundred monsters swarming this outpost. With the Aragas added, it was practically a death sentence for Araelle and Azadin's group of about ten.
However.
"Everyone who wants to keep their souls, plug your ears! Unless you fancy having them stolen by the tongue of darkness!"
Araelle began chanting in the Nether tongue. Eyes sprouting from shadows stirred, blocking the approaching naga undead from the rear.
The nagas wielded Nether minions too, but theirs differed from Araelle's lineage. The Storm King bloodline clashed with Araelle's Eye King bloodline, unleashing eerie shrieks that shook everyone—like entrails being ripped from the living.
"Now!"
The Four Seasons of Flower, Bird, Wind, and Moon seized the gap in Araelle's offensive and darted across the outpost toward the fortress. Aragas in the fortress moved to block them, but the Four Seasons' fame was no fluke.
Seraph and Aleph slashed with swords to pierce the vanguard, while Zenith scattered poison mist to drive enemies back.
As Dimia cast her spell, wooden vines grew, forming stairs and ladders for an easy path, while thorny vines elsewhere blocked enemy advances.
Truly astonishing skills. For Azadin, who only mimicked the Four Seasons back in Kazas Hsero, it was enviably superior.
"Araelle?!"
Azadin turned to see her actively wielding Nether magic. She uttered unspeakable horrors in human tongues, summoning Nether beasts, but each time, parts of her flesh tried mutating into Nether horrors.
Each time, Araelle sliced away the mutating flesh with her obsidian dagger to halt the change.
"What are you doing, Azadin? Hurry up and go! Even I can't hold back this whole army alone... Ptui!"
Araelle spat blood again.
Each use of Nether magic damaged her body. But without it, she couldn't block over a hundred Heralds and servants alone, plus three times that in nagas, undead, and their summoned Nether minions.
"Urk!"
Watching Araelle's struggle, Azadin swiftly grabbed Midiam and Ismael, crossing the outpost. Inferior to the Four Seasons, Midiam and Ismael kept lagging, so Azadin had to protect them.
He batted away arrows raining like downpours, endured spells with his innate antimagic, and scaled the fortress.
"Araelle!"
"Yeah!"
Araelle whirled around and streaked across the outpost, breaching the fortress—like a swallow skimming the water's surface.
But Araelle's condition was far from good, even politely. She was drenched in blood—not from enemy strikes, but the price of wielding Nether power herself.
"Whew. Is everyone all right?"
"Yes!"
In stark contrast to Araelle, the Four Seasons and their servants were unscathed.
"......"
Azadin stared at the blood-soaked Araelle.
"I'm fine. This'll heal soon enough."
"Heal soon...? You?"
But astonishingly, it was true. The wounds from sliced flesh were closing rapidly before Azadin's eyes. Much like Shati's green mana healing magic.
"Whew. See?"
"You sure? The wounds look healed on the outside, but you seem drained."
"That's why I need you, Azadin."
"What?"
"Azadin. You're the one to kill the chieftain. I'll clear the path there. But you have to be the one to slay the chieftain."
"That's absurd. Leave that to us."
Indim of the Moon bristled.
"Killing the chieftain is the highest honor! No matter that Azadin is Lady Araelle's brother, he hasn't contributed much to us. Handing him that glory is wrong."
Araelle gave a wry smile at Indim's claim.
But then, Azadin felt a chilling tug, like hair being yanked. The Emperor's voice warned him.
[Danger! Azadin! From the castle!]
"What?!"
At that instant, birds erupted from trees near the royal castle in unison. The Emperor's voice had possessed surrounding birds in haste, forming a living barricade.
-Splat!
Feathers scattered amid the rain of shots.
*********
Chieftain Hatir wasn't idly waiting in the royal castle. Knowing Azadin and Araelle's group approached, they moved to intercept personally.
But even after expending precious black steel arrows, they hadn't anticipated the Emperor's voice mobilizing fully to protect them. Having lost the element of surprise, Hatir slipped out of the castle with the elders to meet Azadin's group.
Then black steel arrows flew at the elders. Azadin's group picked up fallen arrows—and those they'd prepared—and counterattacked the elders instead.
"Sanctuary Deployment!"
Hatir invoked the king's magic. Drawing white mana power from the Church of the Nightless Sun God, Yaegas...
"White Incense Tree Under the Moon!"
And the Four Seasons' magic...
"......"
And Nether tongue to block all incoming black steel arrows. With both sides exhausting their arrows, they closed to where faces became visible.
"I've heard the rumors, and it's laughable. To think you dare bargain over my life."
Hatir gave a wry smile at Araelle and Azadin's group approaching to kill him.
He'd stationed many clansmen at the outpost, yet they'd brought so many black steel arrows intact. They should have arrived battered and spent from constant skirmishes.
Yet appearing unscathed proved his clansmen hadn't followed orders—intentionally slacking.
'Can't be helped with the lowly rabble.'
As Hatir thought that—
"Azadin..."
Elder Kazas beside Hatir frowned at Azadin, whose hand had regenerated.
"Impressive skills. Regrowing a hand. Cutting off one arm wasn't enough to stop you, after all."
"Master."
Azadin's group had evaded the black steel arrow barrage thanks to the Emperor's voice.
These arrows cloaked in darkness mid-flight, revealing themselves only near targets.
Perfect ambush—even Heralds couldn't predict it, but the Emperor's voice allowed them to dodge.
"Why, Master?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why are you willing to kill me for Hatir? Am I worth so little to you?"
Azadin confronted him outright—like a child tormented by favoritism demanding why a parent loved others more.
It was a novel experience for Kazas.
'He wasn't like this before.'
Azadin had always seen gifts to him as undue. Aldis's graces, Kazas's teachings—he accepted them humbly as unearned, bowing low.
Likely from abuse by others, thinking lowly of his station.
Now that Azadin boldly demanded.
His qualification for his master's love.
'You're right, my disciple.'
Azadin was a beloved disciple to him. However...