Chapter 248

While Aint set aside his doubts and began fighting alongside the rector against Andras, Fernan was facing Valac, accompanied by Luina.

“What are you?”

The child asked with an innocent smile.

“You’re not Armian, how can you have his power?”

“Do you really think I’m going to answer you?”

“Yes.”

The boy nodded naturally.

“Because I’m the one asking.”

“You’ve got quite the ego. Well, demons usually do. But I refuse.”

“In terms of ego, you’re no slouch either.”

“…What does that mean, Luina?”

The answer came from elsewhere.

“Don’t like it?”

Then die.

Slash!

Something tore through the air. Fernan barely managed to move aside as something passed in front of his face.

Shieeek!

It was a snake. A black snake, cut in half, writhed on the ground before dying.

Luina stood in the way, showing him her firm back.

“Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were just about to die.”

“I knew you’d stop it.”

“That kind of trust isn’t bad.”

“Stop it?”

Valac tilted his head curiously. Then he made another hand gesture.

The mouths of the two-headed lizards he rode opened. Whoosh! Black fire emerged from them.

A steel wall rose between the flames and Luina, completely blocking the heat, but soon something began striking it from the other side.

Bang! Crack!

A loud crash echoed. In several places, the wall began to break. They were snakes.

Dozens, hundreds of black snakes devoured the steel and rose into the sky.

“Fernan!”

Luina’s sword moved. As if painting on an invisible canvas, she created a blue barrier in front of her.

The snakes couldn’t pierce it and were shredded.

‘The 62nd demon, Valac. A dragon commander who rides a two-headed dragon-like creature, sometimes appearing as a child.’

Fernan recalled what he had read in King Colomo and the 72 Demons.

However, the supposed “dragon” was actually a two-headed lizard, and instead of dragons, what he sent were snakes.

‘More like a snake commander than a dragon commander.’

But the records didn’t say that. Were they wrong? Had Valac changed? Or had they been altered?

‘Records on demons are scarce. The corrupt might have manipulated them.’

Perhaps even Valac’s descriptions had been exaggerated by demon worshipers.

Boom!

A direct hit to the chest shook Fernan from his thoughts.

Thud! Thud!

Ahead! Ahead!

Wooden pointed desperately at Luina, who was holding off the avalanche of snakes alone.

He squirmed inside the pendant, begging to be released.

“Alright, go let off some steam.”

Fernan ripped off the pendant and tossed it.

— Roooaar!

In an instant, Wooden returned to his ten-meter original form and roared.

“A toy?”

Valac’s eyes opened with curiosity, not surprise.

“Capture it. But don’t break it.”

The lizards grew, their bodies doubling in size until they surpassed twenty meters.

They were colossal beasts.

Neither Fernan nor Luina could hide their astonishment, but Wooden was unfazed.

— Grrraaaah! Grrraaaah!

Big enemy! Very big!

Since getting his new body, Wooden had fought many opponents, but never one bigger than him.

A new enemy. A fresh challenge.

Wooden leapt forward with ferocity, and soon the lizard and golem were entangled in devastating chaos.

The buildings of the capital crumbled like paper.

‘Good boy.’

Fernan thought, mentally calculating the cost of rebuilding while summoning his magic.

Sharp steel spears shot out, intercepting the approaching snakes.

“There’s no need to take risks. We can hold out until Aint arrives.”

“Do we really have to wait?”

Luina stepped forward, not taking her eyes off Valac.

“The enemy is a demon.”

“Demons are alive too. And we have experience.”

“This isn’t like last time.”

“We’re not the same either.”

Fernan clicked his tongue.

“…Fine. Though it’s not in my best interest, if you insist, I won’t stop you.”

He gathered mana.

The ground rose.

A sandstorm infused with draconic power enveloped the field, unlike a simple metal barrier.

After the experiments in his battle with Flauros, Fernan had discovered that if there was a weapon capable of piercing a demon, it was that storm.

The gale engulfed Balac, snuffing out the barrage of snakes.

“Luina!”

A massive rock block fell from the sky, crushing the demonic energy rising through the dust.

“I’ll cover you.”

Don’t think about their attacks. Just charge forward and focus on cutting off his head.

Pop. Fernan uncorked a mana potion.

At first glance, it didn’t seem very reliable.

Was he really going to face all those demonic attacks alone while drinking potions?

But Luina didn’t hesitate.

As soon as Fernan spoke, she lowered her center of gravity, channeling her aura into her legs and feet.

“So annoying!”

Valac roared. His hand, covered in black scales, tore through the sandstorm.

Boom!

The ground trembled and lifted in fragments flying everywhere.

Valac opened his mouth, launching a concentrated energy blast.

Just before it reached the arc of Luina’s sword swing, a mound of sand rose, diverting its path.

The beam grazed her hair, burning a few strands, and vanished into the sky.

“Damn…”

Snakes lunged again. Steel spears intercepted them once more.

It all happened in the blink of an eye.

By the time Valac realized it, Luina’s sword was already in front of his face.

The demon frowned and threw a punch covered in scales and demonic energy.

But just before impact, the sand spun and wrapped around his hand, devouring the energy and the scales.

“You…!”

And before he could react—

─────!

The sword and the fist collided.

***

“I wanted to see you.”

Garrett caressed the blade of his spear.

“Since that day, there hasn’t been a single moment I forgot you.”

“What a passionate declaration. Sorry, but men aren’t my type.”

“What a coincidence. Same here.”

And he hurled the spear.

A red flash exploded as it flew.

Count Patrick extended both hands; the moment the spear touched him, white scales shimmered across his skin.

────!

Patrick stifled a grunt and stepped back.

The magical engravings on the spear glowed, returning it to its owner.

“This time won’t be like before, filthy corrupt.”

“I don’t have time to play with you.”

Patrick’s gaze shifted to Aint and Fernan.

The cursed power radiating from both sides deeply unsettled him.

How was it possible that Fernan Pellenberg had that power?

And how had Aint Armian already reached such a level?

Everything was completely beyond his calculations.

He had believed that, even if Aint showed up, simply holding back the Mercenary King would secure victory. But his prediction had failed.

It was all Fernan Pellenberg’s fault.

Because he possessed a cursed power.

Because that golem of his was far more dangerous than expected.

Even after summoning two full demons, Patrick felt uneasy.

‘If not for Fernan Pellenberg, I could’ve summoned all three.’

That had been the plan, and that’s how it could’ve gone.

Had he succeeded, he wouldn’t even need to worry about this situation. Victory would’ve been inevitable.

‘Damn Fernan Pellenberg.’

He couldn’t believe it. Nearly ten years of preparation ruined by a single man.

Still, he had the demons.

They had descended in their complete forms, and thousands of infernal beasts aided them.

The odds of winning were still high.

And yet.

“Do you feel like you’re not going to win?”

“Predicting your own downfall?”

The Mercenary King was already in front of him. With the spear, too.

Claaang!

Patrick staggered back several steps.

“You don’t have beasts helping you now, nor the Second Prince’s goons! Kahahaha!”

The spear followed instantly, chasing his openings like a serpent.

Dozens of exchanges.

Patrick began to falter.

His anxiety, along with the radiant power of Armian, began to affect him—if only slightly.

He was relatively free of Armian’s influence, but not entirely.

Crack!

Finally, the spear tip pierced his scales.

A long wound opened. It had been a long time since he felt such searing pain.

And that pain snapped him back.

‘I have to escape.’

If he stayed there, he’d be torn to shreds.

He snapped his fingers. Something rose from the ground.

Bones—corpses.

The dead rose, refusing rest, surrounding the Mercenary King.

“…Necromancy?”

“I told you. I don’t have time to play.”

The corpses lunged at Garrett.

Patrick turned and fled.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

The spear, hurled with full force, tore through the air.

Dodging was impossible.

Blocking it would only slow him down. The Mercenary King would smash through the dead and catch up instantly.

So he chose to take it.

Crunch!

His left shoulder was ripped off entirely.

Still, he didn’t slow down.

But the spear wasn’t alone.

Boom!

Another hit him with an explosion. Patrick fell to the ground, and Garrett, who had swept away the corpses in one blow, rushed after him.

“I told you—you’re not escaping!”

A wolf never lets go of its prey once it bites.

The Mercenary King roared.

***

Battles raged all across the field simultaneously.

Gismond, trying to stay far from the epicenters, searched for something he could do.

From the open sky fell hordes of monsters. Some were torn apart by the fights between demons, but most still roamed the streets.

“Damn… this won’t be easy.”

There were nearly a thousand.

Some he recognized; others not.

But they all shared one thing—they were way above what he could handle.

‘Ah, right.’

He remembered the forces of the Kingdom of Linelt gathering on the way to the capital—the king, the first prince, Princess Yuli, and about three thousand knights and soldiers.

With them, maybe he could hold out.

Maybe.

He ran. Following the teachings of the “explosive slash,” he focused aura under his feet and released it in a burst.

“Y-You’re way too fast…!”

He tried to control his aura-propelled body, maintaining focus.

Snakes fell from the sky.

He slashed while running.

His aura turned into cutting waves that shredded dozens of them in an instant.

But from the wreckage, a massive one emerged.

“The monster called Madrch has the form of a giant snake, with spiked scales, and is over twenty meters long. It’s Class 2.”

He’d never seen one, but he recognized the description thanks to the knowledge Fernan had forcibly implanted.

His face turned pale.

“M-Madrch… I can’t handle a Class 2!”

He abruptly turned to flee—and saw something else.

“Zikrik?”

They were Class 5 burrower creatures, the same ones he’d seen endlessly in the dwarven city.

“I can handle you guys…”

He smiled, gathering aura and preparing to unleash his technique.

───!

Suddenly, a massive body rolled across the ground, crushing all the Zikriks.

If he hadn’t jumped back, he’d have been flattened, too.

— Graaah!

The giant two-headed wolf roared in unison.

As it lunged again toward Wooden—who had thrown it hard—the Madrch in its path was reduced to pulp.

“…Oh.”

Gismond stood dumbfounded.

In the distance, lightning from the rector’s battle with the demon swept through a whole pack of Ursos.

“This is insane…”

How was an ant like him supposed to survive in a war like this?

For the first time, Gismond truly felt insignificant.

“Screw it, I’m not looking for the kingdom’s army. I’m outta here.”

Yes, that was the only way to survive.

He ran toward the castle gate and stopped.

“But if I run will Fernan let me go?”

Could he hide from someone like Pellenberg?

“…To hell with this fantasy world. I just want to go home.”

Sniffling, Gismond wiped his nose and turned around.