Chapter 67 - An Orc Above Orcs vs. A Knight Above Knights (7)

It was almost done; the end was truly almost in sight.

My damn mana was on the verge of bottoming out.

Even maintaining the War Poem was overwhelming. My heart ached as if it were going to split apart.

"Hah!"

My uncle powerfully swung his sword away. The Warlord leisurely parried the blade and stepped back. The way it acted so relaxed despite being covered in blood all over made it look exactly like a beast toying with caught prey.

"Ian. That's enough now."

I clenched my teeth and tried to dart forward, but my uncle stopped me.

"Withdraw the poem now."

I opened and closed my mouth several times before finally shutting it. Then, I withdrew the power of the War Poem. The pain that felt like it would split my heart subsided like a lie.

"It seems the plan has failed after all."

"It's not, it's not over yet."

I still had poems that had reached the Myth grade, including the [Poem of Slaying Dragons]. If I pushed myself and liberated a portion of my soul, I could reverse the situation.

That was right. That was certainly the case.

"Yes. It's not over."

But there was no opportunity to do so.

THUD.

I looked down. My uncle's fist was planted in my abdomen.

"Why...?"

I asked my uncle.

"From here on out, it is the fight of the knight Vale."

The mana loaded into the fist that struck me in my defenseless state shook my insides. My head wasn't working properly.

My legs lost their strength. My uncle caught me as I collapsed forward. Resting my chin on his shoulder, I asked again.

"What are you doing..."

"Someone has to remain and clean up the aftermath; I intend to entrust that burden to you."

Someone lifted me up from behind.

"Sir Quern. I leave him to you."

"Your Excellency..."

A heavy voice reached me.

"What are you doing..."

I tried to resist, but no strength entered my body. I tried to struggle, but the strong grip did not let me go.

"It has been an honor to serve with Your Excellency all this time."

"You have worked hard."

I gritted my teeth at the voices babbling as they pleased.

"I said, what are you doing."

But no one answered my words. I was loaded onto a horse, and the damn Quern Liechtheim even tied me tightly to his back.

"Then I wish you luck in battle!"

"Respects to the sword of the knight Vale Ballorhard!"

The Black Lancers, who had gathered at some unknown point, each threw out their farewells. And then they spurred their horses. Tied tightly to Quern's back, I watched my uncle.

The Orcs swarmed in. My uncle was buried under the dark green wave and could no longer be seen.

"Ah..."

I stared blankly at that sight.

All I could see was the knights following behind turning around one by one to block the Orcs, only to collapse while shedding blood.

Even in the front, knights were dying while trying to carve out a path.

The knights of Winter Castle, who numbered up to two hundred when we left the castle, now had less than fifty remaining. And even that number was continuously decreasing. When the number of knights following behind was left at little more than thirty, I reached for my waist.

The hard sensation of the horn touched my fingertips. With trembling hands, I untied the horn and brought it to my mouth.

PHOO... PHOO...

Due to my uncle's mana that had yet to dissipate, no strength entered my stomach.

PHOO... PHEW...

I blew the horn continuously until I felt dizzy. In my heart, I recited the War Poem countless times.

PHEWWW.

Taking advantage of the chaos, a Wolf Rider who had stuck right behind me thrust its spear toward me.

BWOOOO.

Feeling the cold sensation digging into my chest, I simply blew the horn.

BWOOOOOOOOOO!

At that moment, an unfamiliar noise reached my ears.

RUSTLE.

It was an extremely stealthy and simultaneously threatening sound, much like a snake flicking its tongue.

YELP!

SQUEEEAL.

The Wolf Rider suddenly screamed and tumbled over.

KUEEECK!

GAH!

At that moment, screams erupted from all directions.

RUSTLE.

Dozens of shadows surged up from among the Orcs. Fresh, grass-colored cloaks, completely different from those of the Orcs, fluttered dizzily before my eyes. Silver flashes embroidered the whole world.

It was the elves.

Damn it. Why only now...

My vision blurred. And finally, I couldn't see anything.

* * *

Vale Ballorhard, who was watching Prince Adrian escape the battlefield with the Black Lancers, turned his body.

"Thank you for waiting."

GRRRRR.

The Warlord let out a low growl from its throat. They couldn't speak the same language, but it wasn't hard to understand the meaning. Its arrogant face seemed to be showing off the mercy it had bestowed.

But even that was only for a moment.

The bastard quickly revealed its violent temper. Crimson Fighting Spirit surged and rippled from both hands gripping its spear.

The old knight was so exhausted, but the king of the dark green monsters still overflowed with power.

It was a truly desperate situation, but Vale instead laughed.

"How liberating. How long has it been since I felt this lighthearted."

He had cast off the position of Commander, and he was liberated from his duties as the head of the County.

He even had a good excuse.

A role to buy time so that the retreating allied knights would not be trampled by the monstrous King of Orcs.

It was a flawless mission to decorate the end of the knight Vale.

The Warlord charged in while thrusting its spear. He swung his sword, imbued with an Aura Blade.

The fierce attack, which he could only barely block even after borrowing the power of a poem, was repelled at once. Vale's sword curved as if it were alive and advanced toward the Warlord.

The Warlord rotated its spear and deflected the sword.

If it had been just moments ago, this single attack would have shaken his insides and made him break out in a cold sweat.

For some reason, he felt completely fine.

His eyes were clear, and his body was light. The tip of his sword was alive, and his Aura shone more brilliantly than ever before.

In an instant, they exchanged dozens of blows.

"This is good!"

An excited Vale slashed in all directions with his sword.

The surging Fighting Spirit was torn apart like paper, and scratches appeared on the Warlord's body. But the wounds carved into Vale's body also increased just as much.

That became the decisive difference.

One side was the tough flesh of a monster, while the other was the body of an old human. Even if they bled the same and suffered the same wounds, the one losing out was Vale.

But nevertheless, Vale was not pushed back by the Warlord.

The shortcomings of his flesh were compensated for by the mana released from his rings.

His four rings continuously resonated, supporting his flesh.

Then, at some point, a change occurred.

A strong current emerged, threading through the four rings that had merely been resonating. At first, it was nothing more than a straight line connecting the rings, but its ends converged and closed.

And it became yet another ring.

"Ah..."

A massive energy, something he couldn't have even imagined until now, arose within his body. Within that overwhelming torrent of energy, Vale felt a sense of ecstasy.

Penta. The supreme realm that all Knights of the Ring dreamed of.

He had reached the realm he had desired so much.

Vale lowered his sword. Instead of charging in, the Warlord actually backed away. It was a cautious demeanor, different from how it had merely thrust its spear violently until now.

Seeing such a Warlord, Vale clicked his tongue softly.

It would have been nice if it had happened a little sooner.

The breath of the grim reaper had reached the tip of his chin; he had already sustained too many wounds and shed just as much blood.

The fifth ring gave him immense power, but it did not give him anything to hold onto his life.

Perhaps one strike would be the limit.

For what his broken body could endure.

The emptiness was just as great as the joy of his great awakening.

At that moment, the sound of a horn could be heard from far away.

BWOOOOOOOOOO.

A familiar pitch ringing out with difficulty.

[We pile green corpses to raise a mountain. A crimson pond forms beneath it.]

The song he had clumsily sung along to flashed through his mind.

"Still, I suppose I can give that fellow a small gift on my way out."

Vale laughed.

He adjusted his grip on his sword. The blue aura that bloomed from the tip of his sword surged endlessly higher.

The red energy raised by the Warlord rose like a tidal wave and covered the whole land.

The aura that had surged so high slammed down onto the earth that had turned red. It was a sight that looked as if a giant sword wielded by a heavenly general was cleaving through a crimson sea. In that fleeting moment, the red energy hacked the old knight's entire body to pieces.

Even amidst the pain of his entire body being chopped into pieces, Vale did not let go of his sword.

The first and last sword swung by the Penta knight, Vale Ballorhard.

He would dedicate it to him.

Adrian, my nephew.

"For His Highness the Prince."

The blue aura finally cleaved that crimson sea completely apart.

* * *

Bert, the lord of Shurtle—the northernmost part of the Central region connecting the North and the Central region—had been having terrible dreams lately. It was all because of the incident that occurred in the North.

The request for reinforcements from House Ballorhard, which had stopped countless monster invasions until now.

Bert immediately cast aside everything else and gathered his troops. But before he could even send the assembled troops north, other lords came to visit.

They said Count Ballorhard was playing ridiculous tricks. They claimed it was a scheme to swallow up the troops that the lords of the Central region had spent a fortune to arm, all without spending a dime.

Knowing Count Ballorhard's temperament, Bert retorted that it made no sense. He was about to ignore this nonsense and send his five hundred infantrymen up to the North right away.

At that time, the second son of House Quern spoke.

"The Imperial Ambassador told us not to act rashly and to observe the situation."

A disaster was about to strike the kingdom at any moment, so what did it matter what an ambassador from another country said. Just as Bert was about to end this useless meeting, another lord spoke up.

"He said he would feel deeply disappointed if there was anyone who did not accept his friendly advice. He also mentioned that his disappointment might turn into anger."

If it were up to him, he would have loved to ask this lord spouting such crazy nonsense whether he was a noble of the Empire or a noble of the Kingdom, and beat him to a pulp.

But he couldn't do that.

A noble of a powerless, weak nation could not go against a noble of a great power. It was because he had already seen countless families fall to ruin.

Hadn't even the Eli family, once called the kingdom's greatest Sword Verse, fallen out of the Empire's favor and become a mediocre family worse than a rural baron?

Bert did not want House Shurtle to follow in those footsteps.

In the end, unable to overcome the lords' coercion and persuasion, he disbanded the army he had gathered. He suffered immense losses, but he was able to completely cover them with the valuables Marquis Montpellier delivered through House Quern.

However, although he had filled his empty storehouse, he could not erase his uneasy feelings.

Since that stubborn old knight of House Ballorhard wouldn't have exaggerated for no reason, every night was a nightmare.

So he gathered the nobles of the Central region once again.

"How about we send reinforcements even now?"

A few lords timidly nodded their heads to express agreement. But the heads of powerful families raised their voices and ignored their opinions.

"Come on, Count Shurtle. Why do you keep doing this. Even if you gather them and send them, you'll only end up doing others a favor."

"Two legions sent from The Capital have already gone to Ballorhard. Combined with Ballorhard's troops, that's a massive army of a staggering three legions, six thousand strong. Furthermore, Ballorhard's soldiers and knights have a reputation for being brave. What on earth are you so worried about?"

Their attitude, clicking their tongues as they spoke, was extremely insulting, as if they were dealing with a child. But Bert did not dare to show his displeasure.

Just because they held the same title didn't mean their relationship was equal.

They were powerful figures with ties to the high-ranking nobles of the noble faction, while he was merely the master of a mediocre, nominal County.

He merely lamented how this country had come to this state and just hoped that no disaster would fall upon House Ballorhard.

But unfortunately, Bert's wish was in vain.

"A messenger from Ballorhard has arrived!"

The captain of the guard threw open the doors and shouted.

"It's obviously another request for reinforcements. He's really pulling a shallow trick so uncharacteristic of him."

"Haha. Let's make an appropriate excuse and send him away."

At the other lords' words, Bert raised his hand. The captain's complexion was far too pale to just brush this off.

It was clear that something terrible had happened. A bad premonition tightened his heart.

"What did the messenger say?"

"I told you, there's no need to listen. Just say we don't have any and send him..."

Before Count Quern could even finish his sentence, the guard captain shouted.

"He said Ballorhard has fallen!"

The arrogant head of House Quern gaped, unable to even think of reprimanding the captain for his rudeness.

"Winter Castle has fallen, and the whereabouts of His Excellency Count Vale Ballorhard are unknown!"

"Wh-What!"

The startled nobles jumped up and asked back when a messenger in a wretched state barged in through the open doors.

"Who goes there! This is a gathering place of noble individuals. Who do you think you are to barge in without permission!"

Even in this urgent situation, Count Quern lost his temper. But the messenger paid no mind to the Count's anger.

Instead, he just gritted his teeth, his face filled with murderous intent. Suppressed by that vicious aura, Count Quern hiccuped and sank back into his seat. With a trembling voice, Bert addressed the messenger.

"Y-You're a Ranger of Ballorhard. Wh-What happened to the situation?"

At those words, the Ballorhard Ranger bellowed as if coughing up blood.

"Rangers killed, three hundred forty-three! Heavy infantry killed, two hundred fifteen! Light infantry killed, four hundred ninety-two!"

The Ranger's gaze glared at the faces of the nobles one by one.

"Black Lancers killed, seventy-nine! Winter Knights killed, eighty-eight!"

The nobles, having belatedly come to their senses, expressed outrage at his insolence. But the Ranger raised his voice even louder.

"I'm not finished yet!"

The nobles stammered "Y-You, you," but pushed back by his momentum, they said no more.

Looking at the silent nobles, the Ranger yelled in a hoarse voice.

"Temporarily formed reinforcement legion! Heavy infantry killed, one hundred ninety-eight! Light infantry killed, three hundred twenty-three! Archers killed, one hundred seventy-two! Knights killed, sixty-four!" Bert felt dizzy and grabbed his head.

"Commander of the 3rd Legion! Lord of Winter Castle! Head of House Ballorhard! Vale Ballorhard, killed in action!"

Eventually, he slumped down completely.

"His Highness First Prince Adrian, critically wounded!"

Looking at Bert in such a state, the Ranger spat out his words.

"Winter Castle has fallen, and the current survivors are retreating..."

His voice lost all strength and turned into a sob at the end, and Bert squeezed his eyes shut.

"As the messenger of His Excellency Count Vincent Ballorhard, I deliver His Excellency's words to the nobles of the Central region!"

The Ranger shouted once again.

"All nobles of the Central region are to assume a state of war and gather the maximum number of troops, and you must make full preparations to respond to a monster legion ten thousand strong!"