"Is he truly the Supreme Heavenly Demon? Or not?"
It was a simple question.
If he was, he would surely resolve it.
If he was not, he would die.
For the Supreme Heavenly Demon she imagined, a problem of this level—
He would solve it easily, without so much as a change in expression.
"I want to see him."
An enchanting smile.
The corners of her eyes curved beautifully.
Behind her scarlet eyes, tens of thousands of troops began to move.
* * *
"Nothing has changed! Move as planned!"
A shout that seemed to tear the throat.
"Get into formation!"
A cloud of dust rapidly swelled.
The ground trembled in irregular pulses.
"What are you doing! Stop standing there and move to the left wing, now!"
Even amid a situation that had unfolded without giving them time to tense, the formation began to take shape.
A pitched battle in which the forces on both sides collided head-on.
With both the number and quality of troops roughly equal, the tide of battle could no longer be predicted even an inch ahead.
Thoom—
The sound of heavy, solid things crashing together with all their might.
Infantry clad in heavy armor contested strength at the front, while long spears thrust densely through the gaps.
Would they push back, or be pushed?
Would they be wounded, or survive?
In an instant, screams and shouts, the clang of steel and the wet sounds of flesh and blood ran rampant.
Excitement and despair fell over the plain that had once been quiet and peaceful.
Grass that should have been fresh was trampled beneath military boots soaked in blood, and in place of chirping insects, human screams rang out.
One soldier screamed as he pulled out his spear.
Bright red blood sprayed forth, soaking the soldier's entire body, and the soldier, driven into even greater excitement, raised his spear again.
Puhwak—
This time, however, a spear pierced his own body.
Clear blood flowed anew over the blood he had already been drenched in.
That was what war was.
If you did not kill, you died; even if you killed, you died.
Killing and dying. A thing where fierce excitement and dreadful despair existed together.
A war waged by tens of thousands of soldiers stretched out in long lines.
When one side pushed, the other was pushed back.
To maintain the balance, the commanders strained their throats until the veins stood out, but on a battlefield where every kind of sound ran wild, it was no easy task.
The state of the battle was taut.
Partly because there was no great difference in the number of soldiers, and partly because that alone made it difficult to determine superiority.
If either side had been pushed back one-sidedly, the knight orders would naturally have stepped in, but because the struggle was so evenly matched, the appearance of the knight orders was instead delayed.
From the perspective of commanders who had to view humans as pieces on a chessboard, it was a loss for the knight orders, their core forces, to appear even a little sooner than necessary.
But the war ripened, and when the number of soldiers dropped below a certain level—
From both sides, almost simultaneously, the knight orders marched out.
It was the typical order of a pitched battle, and the most important moment that would decide victory or defeat.
Whichever side gained the upper hand in the clash between knight and knight would seize victory.
Thus, the knight orders of both sides came to the front.
"That is...?"
Only then did the Second Prince's camp realize that something was wrong.
"The eastern knight order!"
What they had naturally assumed was the First Prince's army... something about it was wrong.
"Why is the eastern knight order here!"
"Yon Torno has joined hands with the First Prince?"
Come to think of it, nothing that could be called the First Prince's symbol was visible anywhere.
Unlike his nature, which loved to show off and reveal itself, there were no flags, no emblems at all.
As if... they had marched in secret.
"...Nothing changes! Charge!"
But it was too late to turn back now.
Amid a battlefield already tangled with excitement and heat, unfolding almost like a melee, if they pulled their troops back, the damage would be beyond description.
For them, for the enemy—whoever retreated first would be finished.
Marquis Nordin, who commanded the Second Prince's army, thought so, and it was a fairly accurate judgment.
Though he could not yet grasp the immediate situation, the marquis was nevertheless confident.
Because he had a hidden move.
"Now, it is your turn to step forward."
Skill users brought in through Silbert's connections.
No, more than mere skill users—Awakened ones.
They did not merely use the skills granted to them, but had surpassed that, developing and evolving those skills, each and every one of them a powerhouse capable of exerting force on the level of a knight order.
What was more, all of those beside Marquis Nordin possessed area-of-effect attack skills.
In a word, their abilities were specialized for war.
'Heh heh heh. How did Silbert manage to bring in such people?'
Marquis Nordin gave the order, promising himself that if the war concluded well and he firmly established himself as the true power of the empire, he would grant Silbert a position as well.
"Go and overturn this war with your splendid abilities."
As long as he had them, whether it was the First Prince or anyone else, the state of the war would be overturned in an instant.
However, for some reason, these secret forces dawdled despite Marquis Nordin's solemn command.
"Hey, what do we do?"
Moreover, were they not conversing among themselves in words he could not understand?
"No idea. F*ck... Something seems seriously wrong."
"Why is the princess's side showing up first instead of the First Prince?"
"Anyone in contact with Taemin-hyung?"
"As if. We'd have to log out and ask."
"Ah, shit... Then do we just bail from here?"
"Tch. The reputation points are a waste, but, well, it won't even be that much. Let's just go."
"Shouldn't we help the princess's side at least?"
"No. What are we going to do about the aftermath if we step in for no reason?"
"Yeah. Better to get scolded for doing nothing than to screw things up and get our heads cracked."
Such was the conversation of the Second Prince's secret force.
At the conversation of the Awakened ones who were supposed to overturn the battle, unease began to creep up inside Marquis Nordin.
He could not understand what language they were speaking, but he instinctively realized that their expressions, tone, and the overall atmosphere they gave off were not good.
The marquis thought that, apparently, they did not properly understand his dignity.
It seemed that because he, the commander-in-chief of this army, had treated them kindly, they had begun to take his orders lightly.
Though they were not even nobles.
"Do I sound like a fool because I speak gently! My command is the command of His Highness the Prince himself! Go forth at once and make known the greatness of His Highness Belloke!"
At that solemn command, the Awakened ones glanced at Marquis Nordin as a group.
"What's that moron saying?"
"Hey, hey, leave him alone. He's trying his best."
"Enough, let's go. We have to tell the guild master quickly."
"Ah... my points."
They continued exchanging words he could not understand.
"...Y-you people?"
Then, right there, they vanished as if sinking down and collapsing into the ground.
"Ahem! I understand that your abilities are remarkable, so come out now."
The marquis tried to speak into empty air, as if nothing were wrong, as if he had known all along, but...
No answer returned.
"Ha ha. I said come out now and go to battle."
And so, for quite some time, he repeated the same words to empty air.
* * *
—Haaah... This overflowing aura of death. Good, very good. As a necromancer, this is an environment hard to resist.
Ignoring Purnel's words, I stared silently at Jason.
"The point where things went wrong."
Jason answered quickly.
"The First Prince. Not only did information leak to the First Prince's side, but it seems an unidentified variable has gotten involved as well."
"A problem within the information guild?"
"No. I can guarantee absolutely that it isn't. Even within the guild, only a very few know about the princess, and the restrictions are also certain."
"Then the place the information leaked from is..."
"The professor's side, most likely."
Jason added,
"On top of that, there is another variable mixed in with the First Prince's side. It seems to be an ability user we failed to identify..."
Jason and Hio's eyes met.
There was no need to say the rest aloud; it was easy enough to predict.
"A possessor."
A possessor outside Silbert's predictions, one he could not control—or perhaps an organization that possessor belonged to—had interfered.
Hio's stiffened expression did not ease.
They had identified the cause.
Then what would the result be?
What would that bastard, or those bastards, do after manipulating the information?
Hio and Jason's gazes turned at the same time.
Not to the battlefield where blood and screams ran rampant, but to the opposite side.
To their rear, which was inevitably relatively vulnerable.
Another army was approaching from far away.
The First Prince's army, advancing to pierce the heart of the princess now laid bare.
"This is..."
It was checkmate.
* * *
A single carriage unsuited to a desperate war.
The area around the carriage was utterly still, but in truth, it was also the fiercest place of all.
This was a war in which each side had to protect the lord they served.
A war that would only end when they killed the monarch upheld by the other side.
A cruel war in which only the single bloodline that survived to the very end would become emperor.
It was the sort of thing where those who fled in fear could not survive, where one had no choice but to collide with all one's strength.
The life of a princess.
The life of one who lived as her guardian knight.
That was what it was.
The knight who had been staring blankly at the carriage suddenly drew his sword.
He silently looked down at the blade glittering in the sunlight.
When had he first taken up a sword?
He thought about it carefully, but he could not remember.
For what had he first grasped a sword?
He idly searched through his memories, but again, nothing came to mind.
What came to mind was only a very small hand.
A tiny hand that had wriggled as it wrapped around his finger.
And the beaming smile and babbling voice that had accompanied it.
Thinking of that, the knight drove his sword into the ground.
He knelt toward the carriage, bowed his head, and delivered words that could never reach.
"May you be in good health."
Please, may you be happy.
May the future of the girl who had been unhappy all her life be filled with fortune.
Praying for that with all his heart, the knight rose.
He drew his sword and turned his back to the carriage.
At the edge of the horizon, a black tide writhed as it surged forward.
A wave of death armed with swords and spears, swarming in to take the princess's life.
In the hand of the knight who gazed upon it was only a single sword, but...
What was there to fear?
Had he not swung his sword so tirelessly for this very moment?
O knight.
* * *
First Rank.
An initiate of the sword who has sensed the qi that exists within himself.
Second Rank.
One who can use inner qi to strengthen the body.
Third Rank.
The realm in which aura can be separated from qi.
Fourth Rank.
The realm in which aura can be stably carried on the sword to manifest sword aura, and the limit of an ordinary knight.
Most knights fail to overcome the wall and despair here.
Fifth Rank.
A realm impossible to reach through simple effort.
One must be able to govern mind, body, and energy as one, and through enlightenment, reconstruct one's body, however faintly.
Sixth Rank.
The density of sword aura becomes visibly richer, and the quality of aura improves drastically.
Even if it is the same aura, its power and purity become incomparable to before, and one can be called a powerhouse capable of making one's name known across the continent.
Seventh Rank.
A superhuman who has escaped the limits of humanity. The realm in which one can manifest sword force that surpasses sword aura.
By using that sword force, one can give form to one's own intent, and it is said that a martial artist who has reached the Seventh Rank undergoes an opening of the eyes, causing the way they see the world to change.
Eighth Rank.
A superhuman above superhumans.
The realm of great heroes whose names remain in history, and, in effect, said to be the final realm humans can achieve.
If the Seventh Rank is a superhuman who can leap over a mountain, then the Eighth Rank is a superhuman who would split a mountain apart and leisurely pass through the gap.
Teordo was a knight of the Sixth Rank.
A knight standing at the threshold of the realm of superhumans.
A powerhouse hard to find an equal to even on this vast battlefield.
However, naturally, he could not face tens of thousands of soldiers alone.
He could not defeat dozens of knights all by himself.
In a situation where the Second Prince's army pressed from the front, and the First Prince's army came surging from the rear, there was only one thing the knight could choose.
To take up his sword and fight.
And so he advanced, forcing his way through the rain of arrows pouring down.
He wrapped himself in deep blue aura, swung it, and blocked.
Elite soldiers and knights of the army, Yon Torno, and even the nobles joined in beside him, but Teordo waited one step ahead of them all.
So that every gaze would be focused on him.
So that they could hold out as long as possible.
Before long, he saw soldiers holding spears.
"You shall not pass."
He could not let them through, so he swung his sword.
Blue aura bloomed larger than ever before, flaunting its presence.
"A-a knight!"
"A high-ranking knight!"
The soldiers, aghast, tried to retreat, but there was nowhere to flee. Behind them, more soldiers were already pressing in.
They were merely swept away like fallen leaves.
How many had he cut down like that?
By the time the ground before Teordo was so piled with corpses that there was no room to set foot, and he himself was drenched head to toe in blood—
“Truly, you are a monster.”
The First Prince’s knights appeared.
“Though you are my enemy, I pay you my respect. I am Durand Epke, in service to His Excellency Marquis Norton. What is your name?”
A knight introduced himself, striking an impressive pose.
Ridiculous.
He was someone who lived in a different world from Teordo.
The weight he bore.
The resolve with which he had come to the battlefield—everything was different.
And so, instead of answering, Teordo silently raised his sword.
“A taciturn man, I see. As a final courtesy, I shall face you myself.”
Durand dismounted and raised his sword, standing across from Teordo.
From that blade bloomed a faint sky-blue aura.
“Whichever of our swords is sharper, this will be a duel without regrets!”
Durand’s aura clashed against the deep blue aura.
Kwaaang—!
The explosive roar of aura striking aura.
The scream of powers meant solely for destruction repelling one another.
And with that single collision, the superiority was immediately laid bare.
“Th-this is impossible!”
Durand’s arms were flung upward, overpowered.
His legs staggered back not one step, not two, but five or six.
His eyes bulged wide with disbelief.
By contrast, Teordo’s blood-soaked expression remained the same as before.
Kwaaang—!
At the second exchange, the sky-blue aura flickered as if it would go out.
Kwaaang—!
At the third, cracks formed in Durand’s sword.
The expression and composure befitting the very model of a knight were nowhere to be seen; all that remained was a face twisted like a demon’s.
Kwaaang—!
And only after they had exchanged four blows at last—
“B-block him! All of you, rush in and stop him!”
Durand shouted in a truly unsightly voice and retreated as if fleeing.
Teordo moved to pursue him and finish him off, but—
Kwaaang—!
Two swords stopped Teordo’s blade.
From both sides, five swords in all thrust in, aiming for Teordo.
Cowardly?
He did not even think such a thing.
On a battlefield where lives were at stake.
On a battlefield where something even greater was at stake.
What was cowardice, and what was righteousness?
It was merely somewhat amusing, the true nature revealed at the end by one who had pretended to be noble.
Puhwak—
Had his thoughts… gone on too long?
One sword passed by, carving deep into his side.
“Guaaaah!”
The knight who had accomplished such a feat paid the price by having his neck sliced open by Teordo’s sword, but there were more than enough knights around to replace him.
If he cut an arm, his shoulder was cut.
If he pierced a shoulder, his thigh was stabbed.
The elite knights were focused solely on Teordo.
That much, at least, meant the burden on the others had been lessened.
“Die!”
A sword thrust in with a forceful shout, and he took it with his shoulder.
He deliberately let himself be stabbed in a place he could afford to injure for the moment, and seized the sword in his other hand.
“Uh… huh?”
As the opposing knight faltered, seemingly never having expected him to truly let himself be stabbed, Teordo cut his neck down without hesitation.
Puhwak— Blood surged up before his eyes.
He closed his eyes for a moment to avoid it, and five or six swords grazed, pierced, and passed through his body.
Flesh split and blood sprayed.
His mind grew hazy, his hands and feet unsteady, as if…
As if he could see the end.