Chapter 563

Throughout the continent, events were unfolding simultaneously. Just as Davey and Perserque had fallen asleep, the southern fortress battlefield was grappling with a dire situation. This was largely due to the grand magical barrier collapsing, signifying the beginning of the dark mages' onslaught. If the fortress were to be breached, it would open a direct path to the capital, making its defense absolutely crucial.

"Damn these monsters!" Silva, who was fending off the undead climbing up like demons, could only escape after instinctively retreating from the barrage of magic spells descending from the sky.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Magic blasts followed one after the other. The fortress had gained a reputation for its exceptional resistance to magic. Thanks to its robust magical defenses, most spells would dissipate before ever reaching it, contributing to the fortress's seemingly impenetrable status. However, with those magical safeguards shattered, screams now reverberated from all directions.

After surviving a relentless onslaught of magical attacks, Silva, trembling with fear, gradually raised his gaze. The fortress had descended into utter chaos, resembling a war zone. Countless individuals cried out and bellowed as they confronted the enemy. Silva, who was typically braver than the average citizens of the Contas Empire, realized that his fear had, paradoxically, spared him from a grim fate this time. Trembling, he finally managed to survey the battlefield. An even greater number of undead creatures, accompanied by an unrelenting barrage of dark magic spells, threatened to breach the immense walls.

Suddenly, a thought crossed Silva's mind: this might not be the end. If he merely concealed himself, begging for his life, he would undoubtedly meet his demise the moment the enemy assumed control. Should he attempt to escape? If he did, he would almost certainly face the wrath of the commanding general.

[This is Contas!]

A famous tale recounted the actions of a general who, upon hearing a retreat suggestion, had not only vehemently yelled these words but had also physically kicked the other general who had proposed withdrawal into a well.[1]

And sure enough...

"Aaaaargh!" Silva felt a chill as he witnessed the general's struggle with the undead scaling the walls.

Bravery was one thing, but this appeared to be recklessly courageous. The undead had more tricks up their sleeves. At this rate, they would face annihilation! Driven by instinct, Silva rushed toward the general. He had abandoned his post, but he had to convey to the general that they needed to retreat and regroup.

The general would likely brand him a coward and possibly even order his execution. Nevertheless, simply retreating was not a viable option. They couldn't abandon the thousands of soldiers defending this position to their demise.

"Ge... General!"

Though Silva was a low-ranking soldier, he sprinted toward the general who grappled with the undead. His eyes widened in shock as an unexpected undead creature threatened from behind. Instinctively, Silva threw himself at the general, saving him from the surprise attack.

The general, startled by the sudden push, initially appeared both shocked and furious. However, his expression swiftly shifted to one of alarm. "Hey!"

Indeed, the undead that had been lunging at the general hadn't changed its target and was now poised to strike Silva.

Swoosh!

A chilling slicing sound followed. Both the general and Silva believed Silva had been cut down.

"Huh?" Yet, after a moment, the general was astonished to see Silva unharmed. The attack was not something an ordinary soldier could have evaded. Nevertheless, Silva stood there untouched. So, what was that slicing sound?

Distractedly, the general then noticed the attacking undead's head slowly falling off. It was one of the higher-ranking undead. Its head had been severed.

A man with a commanding presence, holding a sword, descended before them. "The wounded should retreat." His words were brief, almost to the point of arrogance, but both the general and Silva could only stare. The man's sword bore the aura of a master blade.

There should not have been any master-class users in this region, as they were currently defending other fortresses.

Startled by the unfamiliar face of the young man, the general and Silva gazed blankly at him.

"You are..."

"Basara."

With a concise introduction, he slowly raised his sword.

Swish!

A smooth and erratic sword aura enveloped the area, instantly cleaving the undead that were crawling up the fortress walls in half.

"I've come to support as a mercenary for Prince Davey."

A mercenary of Prince Davey? Are all the mercenaries these days of a master class?

It was an astonishing reality, but there was no time to be selective. Furthermore, while Basara alone was a significant asset, it appeared he was not the only mercenary from Prince Davey. From various sections of the fortress wall, individuals, each displaying incredible skills, began to reveal themselves. There were seven in total. Without exception, each of them unsheathed a blade that symbolized the presence of a master-class warrior, the Aura Blade.

"According to the rules, sweep them all without leaving any behind," Basara commanded.

Each of them began to move step by step, releasing massive amounts of energy in various areas. Then, all seven simultaneously descended from the fortress wall. To the enemy, it might have seemed foolish for even masters to dive headfirst into their overwhelming numbers. The swarm of undead, moving like a wave of ants, demonstrated their sheer numbers. However, the seven individuals moved as if they were a single eraser. Wherever they went, traces of the pitch-black undead rapidly vanished.

The sight of the seven warriors effortlessly dominating the battlefield, leaning against the wall with blank expressions, was genuinely magnificent. Other soldiers seemed to share this sentiment, merely observing their battle with stunned expressions.

Of course, the dark mages were not idle either. The sudden intrusion of seven master-class powerhouses shifted the balance of power in an instant, compelling them to recklessly use the artifact they had initially employed.

A change in the atmosphere. Extracting a black bead, they twisted and shook the atmosphere, altering the air composition by removing oxygen, leaving primarily nitrogen. Humans, deprived of oxygen, gasped and choked in agony. The first time this magic manifested, its range was not as extensive as it was now. Yet even within that limited scope, a brave mobile strike force moving to intercept was entirely annihilated.

Breathing is essential for humans. Across the entire battlefield, soldiers defending the wall choked and struggled, afflicted by the intense curse. Silva was no exception. As he was dying, shedding tears, his vision began to blur with a yellowish tint. Just then, something dark descended rapidly from the sky. Simultaneously, a tornado began forming around this dark entity.

[How dare these insignificant beings attempt to control the atmosphere before me?]

The massive entity, which created a forced downward current to circulate the air and restore the oxygen-depleted atmosphere, was none other than a dragon. Coughing and gasping for air, Silva looked up to see the immense black dragon, then immediately sank to his knees upon seeing the green orb forming in the dragon's mouth.

Aimed precisely at the dark mages, the dragon declared, [Die, insect-like beings.]

The dark mages hastily attempted to flee or deploy defensive magic. But...

Boom!

With a tearing sound, a breath attack erupted from the ground, streaking across the plains where the dark mages stood, as if it were slicing through the sky. Resembling a colossal blade powered by immense water pressure, it cleaved from the ground up to the sky.

* * *

Inside a dark cave, someone began to move stealthily.

"We have no time. The leader has been defeated. We need to retreat to our homeland and regroup."

"You think it's easy to return? Without the Death Lord's blessing, it's impossible." Their hurried conversations revealed their desperation.

"We don't have time for this. I'll retrieve the treasure and return..." As the man took a step back, contemplating escape, he froze at the sudden emergence of a figure from the shadows.

"Rrrrrrrrrr..."

A low growl emanated from a massive tiger with white fur and black stripes. Startled by the tiger's appearance, the man attempted to flee, but the massive white tiger simply raised its paw, hesitating as if evaluating the situation, and then swatted the man aside.

"Is that the famous kitty punch?"

A typical feline behavior. The actions of the White Tiger, Whitey, elicited a mix of shock and confusion from the onlookers. But soon, as they approached the White Tiger, their faces paled even more upon seeing the woman standing beside him.

"You gave me quite the chase, you bastards."

The figure who appeared before them was akin to the grim reaper. She was the continental hero with immense power and three divine beasts at her side, Reina.

Upon her arrival, the remnants of the Illuminati scattered in a panic, attempting to flee from her.

However, she did not actively pursue them. For a good reason...

"Arghhhhhhh!!"

"Fire! Fire upon me!"

Fleeing when already surrounded would not alter their fate, after all.

* * *

Meanwhile, the knights from Lastwisp were making their way toward the Tartaros underground mountain range. Honestly, they couldn't help but entertain doubts. Their mission was to destroy the final fortress and hidden card created by the Illuminati within the given timeframe. Aware of the vast area they had to search, they grasped the importance of their task.

"It feels like logic is breaking down."

"Ho ho ho ho, Goddess Freyja doesn't choose who worships her."

As knights, they had weathered many challenges, but this situation was truly different. A lich that believed in a god. The existence of a lich was shocking enough, but a lich believing in a deity was even more startling. Fildyr and Lucia Shelman, the newer members of the 268th generation of knights, approached the lich who was conversing with the senior knights. Davey had done many things, but at times like this, they wondered if he was really human.

"Hmm? Why the doubtful face?"

In response to the god-believing, seemingly mad lich named Iro, Fildyr cautiously inquired, "Are you... connected to Davey?"

"Everything is according to Goddess Freyja's will." With nothing but bone, Iro chuckled, prompting Lucia Shelman to join the conversation.

Taking his skeletal hand, she said, "Then we can't avoid discussing the first saintess, Daphne. Let me share my experience of visiting the birthplace of the first saintess..."

As Lucia unexpectedly began to chat with Io, the other senior knights appeared appropriately bewildered. However, once Lucia started, she was engrossed in praising Saintess Daphne.

"Isn't that wrong?"

"Daphne would not do such a thing." Iro, looking confused, mumbled under his breath.

"Eh? What did you say?"

"Ah... nothing! Ho ho ho ho ho!" Iro let out a forced laugh, and Fildyr sensed an odd feeling, causing him to approach Iro slowly.

Despite Fildyr's approach, Iro didn't seem to be on guard. Then, Fildyr, who had been irritated from the beginning by a hair stuck between Iro's eye sockets, carefully plucked it out.

Snap!

"Stop that, will you? Plucking one's few remaining hairs, huh?" In an instant, Iro's previously relaxed demeanor turned fierce.

"Is... Is that you, Iro?!"

"...Oops! I must have lost my temper for a moment. Not long ago, Davey plucked out a lot of my precious hair..."

At his words, a look of empathy spread across the faces of the knights who were experiencing hair loss.

Apart from that, as Davey had mentioned, the eradication of the Illuminati from various parts of the continent was proceeding without a hitch.

1. This is a reference to the quote, "This is Sparta!", from the movie "300". ☜