Episode 46
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“Confucius… … .”
The knight was lying on the verge of death, his body blackened with soot.
“The House of Saxony and I will never forget your devotion.”
Dale knelt quietly and took his hand.
“Please… … so that I can fulfill my duty as a Night Raven Knight even after I die… … .”
“I understand your intention very well.”
Dale nodded at those words that continued with difficulty. The knight’s breathing gradually became faint in the pain. In that way, a life was kindled, and Dale quietly got up. He clenched his lips so hard that they bled.
Knock knock.
Sparks were flying everywhere. Pieces of people were scattered everywhere, their shapes unrecognizable.
It was a ‘battlefield scene’ that was very familiar to Dale.
“One hundred and ninety-three knights were killed in the explosion.”
At Dale’s side, Lord Vale of Baskerville reports the damage indifferently.
“All Auror Knights are unharmed, except for some minor burns.”
“… … .”
After hearing Lord Bale’s words, Dale remained silent. He turned his head.
“… … Dale.”
Sepia was there, looking at him with concern. He turned his head again.
Dale’s father, the Black Knight, was also there.
The greatest black magician on the continent who did not allow the remaining Purifiers to ‘death’ and instead cleared them out with a single gesture.
“Collect the bodies and remains of the knights.”
“Understood, Your Majesty.”
He calmly assesses the situation and gives orders in a businesslike manner. He then directs them at the black magicians who have gathered around him.
“Eris.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Move ‘that’ to the tower of the Necropolis.”
The black ball continued, pointing to the writhing mass of flesh there.
“Move over and let them reveal everything they know.”
“I will follow the Lord’s words.”
Eris, the secretary of the Black Tower, nodded silently.
After that, the black ball took a step forward after giving the orders that needed to be given.
“Dale.”
“father.”
Dale answered, trying to keep his composure.
“The damage is quite severe.”
Although the Purifiers of the Red Tower failed to fulfill their ‘purpose’, in a sense it was Dale’s first painful defeat and loss.
“Are you blaming yourself as a commander?”
“I drove the knights of Saxony to their deaths.”
Dale answered.
“… … I had to hand over the articles from the beginning.”
Dale continued, biting his lip again, as if he were responsible for their deaths.
“You and Sepia, the two of you were planning to face hundreds of orc riders and a dozen Purifiers?”
The black ball asked back.
No matter how great Dale and Sepia are as wizards, the world of wizards is no different from that of knights.
The power of numerical superiority is absolute, unless you are a being that is beyond the standard of a Black Ball or a ‘Warrior of the Other World’. What’s more, your opponents are the ‘Knights of the Red Tower’ who exist solely for the purpose of battle.
He was not yet strong enough to overcome the difference, so he could not protect the knights of Saxony.
It was the first feeling of helplessness he felt as the eldest son of the House of Saxony.
The weakness of not being able to be reborn as an ‘extra-standard being’.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
The black ball opened its mouth.
“It’s not your fault.”
In front of the father’s kindness encouraging his son.
“… … .”
Dale didn’t answer. He just spun three circles, the pitch-black tentacles rooting in his heart.
While there, he breathed ‘black magic’ towards one of the fallen Night Raven knights.
“The knights of Saxony… … .”
Black magic ran through the knight’s body, and the corpse that should have been dead rose up.
“He left a message asking that he be allowed to fulfill his ‘duty’ even after death.”
Those who wish to fulfill their duty as a knight, whether alive or dead. These are the Night Raven Knights who are loyal to the House of Saxony.
“And the battle is not over yet.”
So Dale opened his mouth. With unwavering determination, he led the Death Knight, who was wielding a pitch-black aura blade.
“Please allow the knights of Saxony to fulfill their duty.”
Towards the battle line that is still fiercely unfolding. In a voice devoid of even a shred of emotion.
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For the people of the North, the rising of the dead was never an object of fear. No, in a sense, it was more like a reliable guarantee of victory than anything else.
So when the dead began to raise their flesh and bones without regard for friend or foe in the face of the endless hordes of orcs, the morale of the Northern Army was like never before.
Because it was finally proof that the ‘God of Death’ was using his power for their own benefit.
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The tide was turning quickly.
Most of the crossing points were successfully defended, and after the victory, an advance began to cross the rapids and destroy the enemies.
But the orcs never stop resisting until the last one falls.
“Ghhhhhhhhhh!”
The Orc Warboss swings his massive double-edged axe, his steel armour buckling like a sheet of paper. He is nothing short of a berserker.
Phew!
Soldiers fall down in panic before the swinging sword, and no one dares to approach.
A monstrous destructive force befitting a body several meters tall. The steel axe swung endlessly, scattering chunks of flesh that were unrecognizable in shape with each swing.
People were being swept away like fallen leaves.
The Orc Warboss roared again, covered in a torrent of blood and entrails. The elite Orc soldiers guarding him raised their shouts in protest.
The battle was already drawing to a close. However, it was not as easy as expected to put an end to the orcs who were burning with a will to die.
“Get out.”
So the knight in black armor walked between the soldiers who were hesitating and spreading out a siege net.
“I will deal with them.”
It was the mad sword, Sir Helmut Blackbear.
And just as Sir Helmut was about to pull out his beloved sword… ‘Madness’ from his waistband.
“──Sir Helmut.”
An unexpected voice was heard.
“Prince Dale?”
Sir Helmut turned his head and held his breath. Dale was there.
With death knights wielding the Black Sword of Saxony.
“Please step back.”
Dale said.
“It is up to me and my knights to bring them down.”
A cloak of shadows flutters along the ground, with an expression that shows not even a hint of hesitation.
“Confucius!”
Sir Helmut held his breath at the sight. After swallowing, he put his sword back into its scabbard.
“……All right.”
Because the trust that Saxony had in Dale was not ordinary.
Sir Helmut walks away silently. Dale then looks up at the Orc Warboss, who is burning with determination.
“Swords of the House of Saxony.”
With the death knights he leads.
“Fulfill your duties.”
With their pitch-black aura blades wrapped around them, the Death Knights led by Dale stomped the ground, fully displaying the martial power of their black swords.
“What the heck is that… … !”
Seeing that sight, Sir Helmut raised his voice in shock.
The sword dance performed by Dale’s Death Knights was by no means that of a mere haphazard warlock.
A sword dance that resembles a swordsman of high skill performing his swordsmanship.
The sword of a Death Knight is ultimately a product of the control of a necromancer, and it goes without saying that an ordinary necromancer would have no skill with the sword. For this reason, the swordsmanship displayed by a Death Knight is usually crude and extremely crude.
But the Death Knights that Dale led were different. Different, very different.
Outrageous swordsmanship and techniques that showed off their skills far beyond what they had in their lifetimes. In front of this sword dance, the axes of the Orcs, who were known as the race of warriors, cut through the air helplessly.
The black sword of Saxon swung, dodging the axes of the orcs like flowing water, like a hungry sword thirsting for the blood of its enemies.
Phew!
Orc blood was sprayed. The slaughter was one-sided. It was unbelievable even after seeing it.
‘I knew that Prince Dale’s swordsmanship was extraordinary.’
But this wasn’t even at the level of sword talent or anything.
‘But what on earth is that absurd swordsmanship!’
That is not even a realm that can be called talent. The swordsmanship that Dale’s Death Knights are displaying. That sword was already a ‘completed sword’.
It’s something that Sir Helmut the Light Sword couldn’t even dare to imagine.
The fact that what is unfolding at the tip of their swords now is the ‘Sword of the Hero’ that once conquered the continent.
In front of him, the resistance of a single group of orcs was meaningless. It was nothing more than a struggle.
“Geuuuuuu!”
As a race of fighters, they make a last desperate attempt with the determination to die. Even so, their fighting spirit and roars did not reach the death knights. There was only slaughter.
The black sword was swung, and each time, the corpses of elite orcs increased one by one.
At that very moment, in the midst of the one-sided slaughter, the Orc Warboss’ double-edged axe was swung.
Kwaaang!
With a shock that felt like the axis of the earth was shaking, one of the Death Knight’s bones finally shattered.
The name ‘Orc Warboss’ was by no means an empty one. He was the leader of a group of orcs who continued their desperate struggle to survive the Great Migration of the Demon Race.
Dale snapped his fingers at the sight.
The knights’ black swords stopped at once. The ‘Black Prince’ walked between the immortal knights.
He flutters his shadow cloak disguised as a black surcoat, intending to put an end to this battle with his own hands.
“Oh, Your Majesty!”
One of the knights raised his voice in bewilderment at Dale’s appearance.
“Don’t worry.”
But Sir Helmut Blackbear gently stretched out his arm and stopped his subordinate.
Dale realized this after seeing the sword he had shown through his ‘Death Knight’. What he was showing now was 100% power without any consideration for his opponent.
That’s why I couldn’t wait to see the ‘Black Prince’, the greatest genius of the Empire, perform. Even if the opponent was an Orc Warboss who could easily trample on a few Saxon knights.
The Orc Warboss readied his steel axe, intuitively understanding the awe-inspiring presence of Dale.
Dale, too, created a blade of darkness along the shadow cloak.
A brief standoff followed.
At the end of the standoff, the wind blew. It was a bone-chilling, bitter wind.
