Chapter 121

The dwarves’ homeland.

The continent’s northern region.

In this area, once boasting sturdy steel and resilient logs, nothing remained anymore.

Vast plains and ravaged earthworks, and hundreds of thousands of demons and mutants.

They had rotted all that was rooted in the soil, shattered the crafts and sculptures left by countless artisans.

Now, naught but death remains upon this land, endless despair.

“Let all who wield a blade, rage.”

Auburn hair danced with the wind that held the snow in its breath. Leather coat steeped in blood, white garments riddled with wounds.

Swordsman.

The man represented by that stoic word, stood before hundreds of thousands of mutants, a slender blade in hand.

“…Haa, haa.”

Behind him, the corpses of countless mutants and continent-dwellers were left. Twisted and tangled together, they formed a great hill upon the snow-covered plain.

Over the pile of corpses, soldiers emerged, one by one.

Some had lost eyes, some had lost arms, and others had lost brothers.

“…Tough going.”

An orc with crimson skin, Heiloom, slowly appeared over the mound of bodies. Wielding a massive axe in both hands, he was every bit the berserker.

“But even today, we pushed the front fifty meters.”

An assassin with his face hidden behind a pitch-black mask, followed close behind Heiloom, scaling the hill.

No one knew the name of the man who wielded a short sword barely an inch long. Even his comrades referred to him only by the alias, ‘Delta’.

Two generals and one grand general.

Facing them stood a monster at the apex of all demons, a living nightmare, a slaughterer who had reduced the population of the 3 billion continent-dwellers by more than half.

The Demon King.

Skin as black as night, eyes like voids, the demonic figure, as if a shadow, simply sat upon a throne of flesh and bone in the heart of the battlefield, looking down upon them.

“So, is today the day then?”

“……”

The Sword Saint retrieved a blade from the inside pocket of his blood-soaked jacket and began sharpening his blunted sword.

Heilroom and Delta carefully descended the hill of corpses.

The Demon King remained still, doing nothing.

A wind, thick with the stench of blood, swept across the battlefield.

Steel clashed against steel, sparking into life. The harsh grating noise filled the silent expanse of war.

“…Today’s objective is complete. Dig the trenches.”

“Not today, then.”

No sooner had the Sword Saint spoken than soldiers emerged from behind the generals. Dwarves carried hammers and lumber, while Orcs and Humans bore great shovels on their backs.

Fifty meters a day.

The Sword Saint and his men, with no time to savor Valerand’s victories, pushed the northern front ever forward.

Claiming the high ground, shrinking the enemy’s land.

Fifty meters a day.

Not decisive, but a certain victory.

Stacking them, one upon the other, pressing the enemy.

“Hundreds of thousands of lives – the mutants and demons you created – are extinguished each day.”

Hammers and materials collided, raising the snow layered on the ground like dust.

“You have hidden the Archdemons away. But it won’t be long before they are dragged onto this battlefield as well.”

One by one, slowly.

“That is how you die. Without a single unforeseen event.”

The Sword Saint lifted his gaze from his blade.

“…Isn’t that what you relish? A battle devoid of surprises.”

He locked eyes with the Demon Lord across from him, his gaze ablaze. A deep-seated rage simmered within his eyes.

“In the end, you will fail to sever our breath.”

The Sword Saint spoke as if he would slaughter the Demon Lord and his devils then and there, but in truth, the situation on the Northern Front was far from optimistic.

Fifty meters a day.

It had been over a fortnight since they began pushing the front lines forward. Weariness weighed heavily on the soldiers’ shoulders, and fear and despair clouded their eyes.

The Demon Lord knew it.

He knew the backlash from pushing the lines so aggressively would soon arrive.

That, in a short time, the opportunity to drive the front back south would present itself.

The Demon Lord anticipated pushing the lines back at least a kilometer.

“…”

And the Sword Saint was not ignorant of the Allied forces’ condition either.

Likely, within a week, a major battle would erupt.

Exploiting their most exhausted state, the Archduke and the Demon Lord would personally lead the offensive.

Therefore, he was prepared for a significant retreat of the front lines southward.

Even so, the reason he dug trenches here today was simple.

‘Halt the enemy advance within 300 meters.’

Today’s trenches would become obstacles for the enemy. They might not completely halt their advance, becoming an impenetrable wall, but they would slow them down, and ensure more than one of them met their end.

That was sufficient.

A titanic tug-of-war was unfolding on the northern front at this very moment.

A chilling tug-of-war, where a single misstep could reshape the continent’s future.

And into the ear of the Demon King, who maintained that taut tension,

‘Rogue unit sighted!’

An entirely unforeseen report had arrived.

* * *

Snowflakes, pristine white, fell from all directions.

The boy’s hair parted, victim to the biting wind.

Each flap of the demon’s wings heralded the arrival of more enemies.

Been had found himself dropped approximately one kilometer north of the frontlines, where the Demon King and the Sword Saint were locked in their confrontation.

Not in the midst of the battlefield, but in the very heart of enemy territory.

An unprecedented situation, unfolding without preparation, without defense.

Even as Lir’s hands and feet grew numb with cold, even as a chilling dread festered within Sion’s spine,

the boy’s mind churned, ceaselessly considering.

‘Using Bloom won’t allow me to survive this kind of scale.’

The mana gathered within the boy’s body was barely a month’s worth.

There was no way he could escape this forest within the time limit.

Whoosh—!

A black hand reached, aiming for the boy’s neck. Sion hastily swung his sword in its direction.

Poisoned blood scattered, spraying in every direction. From beneath the girl’s cloak, a blade began to dance.

Swiftly, throwing knives flew. They grazed rooted branches, finding their marks in the midbrows of the demons.

‘They saw me and shouted they found the vanguard.’

The weeping shriek of lightning began to fill the surroundings. Soon, a deafening high-pitched whine and a blinding light engulfed everything.

Lir was swinging her staff like a madwoman.

‘The phrase “vanguard”…that means the main force of the allied army exists somewhere else in this region.’

And then.

In the corner of the boy’s vision, violet light coalesced.

The Fifth Archduke, Gabriel, having heard of the vanguard, had hastily manifested himself on the scene.

“Vin…!”

Of course, Gabriel knew the boy’s true identity.

‘He knows who I am. He’s on high alert…’

Immediately after, the violet light gathered behind Gabriel began to swell.

In an instant, the light embraced them all, and Sion quickly shouted, “I am no longer offering this service!”

Even for her, shielding a mage from an Archduke without sustaining any injuries was impossible.

The spirit’s blessing deployed a thin shield, pushing back against the violet light.

A brief, one-second tranquility enveloped the three.

‘This is the heart of enemy territory. Originally, I shouldn’t even *be* in this place.’

The boy’s mind, desperately consuming sugar to find an escape route.

Reached a single, decisive conclusion.

“Cocoon…”

The Archduke, Gabriel, confirmed the shield’s collapse and prepared his attack. He twisted and pulled at his own fingers, then brandished the resulting arm bone, torn free, like a club.

Blood sprayed, eating holes into the boy’s robes.

Closing the distance to the boy took the monster only a single stride.

Sion prepared to flee.

She had no duty to protect these mages, nor the confidence to safely extract them from the heart of enemy territory. Preserving her own life was her only option.

Lirr swiftly spun the end of her staff, aiming it at the Archduke swinging his bone club.

A faint light began to coalesce, but the moment was long past gone.

It was then.

The broken blade tore through the boy’s vision.

A split-second, worming its way into the place where death and the boy stood.

And thanks to that split-second.

“He knows about the cocoon.”

Bin was able to move his lips.

* * *

“Hah, ssshh…! Hah.”

The man with closely cropped hair gasped for breath in the snowfield.

Edward had barely escaped the Archipelago Mist, which had abruptly begun to crumble.

A ferocious coldness gnawed at his flesh, vibrated in his bones. Rotten tree roots surrounding him signaled this was anything but a safe haven.

Flap—!

Edward gasped, his breath catching in his throat, the sound of wings cleaving the air reaching his ears.

Instinctively, he turned his head towards it, raising the broken blade.

Fear stained his eyes, despair clinging to his fingertips.

The sound of a demon’s wings, a sound he’d long forgotten, froze his hands and feet like frostbite.

‘I have to run.’

The thought was pure instinct.

He didn’t know where he was, but it was definitely not a normal place.

Whoosh—!

As Edward reached his conclusion, the sound of the demon’s wings echoed once more in his ears.

His knees trembled. His breath hitched, his vision blurred.

I have to run.

If I want to live, I have to run.

I have to run, but…

“Shit.”

A violet light erupted not far away. A blast of searing heat swept past him. The snow clumped around Edward’s feet instantly melted.

The boy the man was so desperately searching for was surely standing in the heart of that violet light. He was certain.

But he also knew with absolute certainty that approaching the epicenter of that explosion would mean his death.

I have to run.

Dreams, whatever they may be, can only be dreamt by the living, can’t they?

This is nothing short of dying like a dog.

He knew he couldn’t be of much help to the General, that even sacrificing his life would only manage to create the tiniest of openings.

“Shiiibaal…!”

He knew it all.

He knew it all, but…

Edward ran.

Towards the violet light.

It was almost two kilometers, yet he felt a strange certainty that he could close the distance in an instant.

That certainty became reality, and soon a white-haired boy appeared before Edward’s eyes.

It was a peculiar sensation.

Could he really run this fast?

The boy seemed lost in thought, deeply concentrated. He hadn’t prepared any magic, nor was he wary of the enemy before him.

In contrast, the demon flying in from the opposite direction was etched with bewilderment. His movements were unwavering, but he was at maximum alert, wondering why the boy and his party had appeared in this place.

‘…The world seems to be moving slowly.’

A vista he had never reached before spread out before his eyes. The Grand Duke and countless high-ranking demons surrounded him, but he felt no sense of urgency.

Lightly.

Edward swung the broken blade at an angle, knocking away the bone reaching towards the boy.

The rust-eaten blade broke once more, but the trajectory of the bone swung by the Grand Duke was distorted.

Bone, brimming with putrid flesh, grazed the boy’s hair.

A fleeting moment.

All Edward had bought was a tiny, fleeting moment.

He possessed neither a blade of exceptional make, nor the grand skill to overwhelm a high demon.

He had, through a stroke of surprise, managed to deflect the Great Overlord’s swinging club, yet that was all.

He was certain he would be unable to properly contend with the spells that followed, the attacks aimed his way.

Edward knew it well.

That, at present, this was his limit.

Even so, that instant.

“I know about the Cocoon.”

That instant was more precious than anything, an instant the boy desperately needed to carve a path forward.