The Southern Continent had become a living hell.
The Conquest Army of the Great Land, summoned by the Order of the Cross, had proven exactly why they were feared as the “Demons of the Plains.” The land once known as paradise had lost its peace; in its place, only death surged. Looking upon the devastated landscape, the high officials of the Papacy could not find a shred of joy. Not a single spark.
“Butcher.”
The Great Warrior of the Sun was imprisoned within the depths of the Papacy.
Gazing at the noble and magnificent Great Warrior, the elders of the Papacy wept. The old monk was bound in heavy chains, barely clinging to life. The Descendant of Khan had intentionally spared him. It was fundamentally foolish to kill a Great Warrior of God, for even if one died, another would simply be born anew to take his place.
“It seems… we truly made a mistake.”
“…….”
“We have brought ruin upon our own land.”
Among all Great Warriors, Butcher was a unique case. No other had ever received as much love from a deity as this old monk. Even the Descendant of Khan feared the wrath the Goddess might unleash if Butcher were slain. The Goddess of the Sun, Rebrua, was famous for her non-interference in the affairs of the Middle World, but no one could predict what she might do if Butcher met a gruesome end. No one.
“O Great Warrior of the Sun.”
Thus, looking at Butcher, the elders of the Papacy sought his guidance. Those who had witnessed the horrific catastrophe had offered prayers countless times, but their God remained silent. And so, the men of the Papacy questioned a human instead. They questioned the most magnificent and noble soul they knew.
“How… how are we to correct this mistake?”
Most of the Southern Continent had already fallen.
It would be incredibly easy for the Crusaders to occupy the scorched earth now. But what value was there in a land of death where only ashes remained? Many priests of the Order of the Cross had already taken their own lives in shame. The small villages and cities—lands once overflowing with warmth and peace—were now choked with despair. The scent of burning flesh wafted from the flaming plains, and spears topped with human heads lined the roads of every town. Crows feasted on the dead as they circled the sky. There was no glory here, and no salvation.
“What in the world are we to do?”
The elders of the Papacy could not bear the weight of their sins. Had they known it would come to this, it would have been better to fade into history. It would have been better to vanish entirely than to possess nothing but cinders. This was not what they had desired. Despite their bottomless greed, they were men who had loved the Southern Continent more than anyone else.
“It is… too late to turn back,” Butcher murmured.
“Those demons will scrape away every bit of hope and crush it. They will trample and destroy even the last remaining sparks of life. They will not leave… a single light.”
“…….”
“You realized it too late. Far too late.”
The blind monk whispered with great effort. Then, Butcher spoke again.
“You foolish people.”
“…….”
“Do you wish to correct your mistake? Even if only a little…?”
At Butcher’s words, the elders of the Papacy nodded desperately.
The old monk continued.
“Set me free.”
“…….”
“If you do, I will hold them back, even if only for a moment. Before they can head out into the wider world, I will pin them down.”
“What meaning is there… in holding them back for just a moment?”
“There is much meaning.”
To the voices filled with despair, Butcher replied.
“To the old, time is merely a countdown to death. But to the young… time is the most precious ingredient for creating miracles.”
“…….”
“I will gift my time to the youth of the new era.”
Butcher’s clouded eyes shone with a light unbelievable for a blind man.
“So that they… may let miracles bloom.”
* * *
The master of the Southern Continent had changed.
The land that had lost its sanctity fell into the hands of demons. No one was ignorant of how the Southern Continent, now a hunting ground for the Conquest Army, would be used. The Great Land sought to achieve the long-held ambition it had failed to reach throughout its history: the total conquest of the continent. They intended to place the entirety of this world, created under the blessings of the Seven Chief Gods and the Nine Goddesses, beneath their boots.
To achieve that, the one obstacle the Great Land absolutely had to break was the Sky Empire. It was the one empire, powerful as an iron fortress, that had kept the Conquest Army pinned in the Eastern Continent for ages, never once allowing them to cross into the Central Continent.
Having broken the ancient pact to emerge into the outside world, the Great Land was thoroughly prepared. By joining hands with the fallen Machine Empire, they had absorbed advanced magical engineering. Magitech tools like Warp Gates and Magic Inventories had compensated for the Conquest Army’s greatest weaknesses. Now, they didn’t need to worry about supplies, nor did they need to agonize over moving millions of ground troops. They could simply open a Warp Gate above their enemies’ heads and unleash the Demons of the Plains directly into their cities.
With logistics and mobility solved, the Conquest Army of the Great Land was virtually invincible. In terms of pure combat power, there was no ground army on the continent that could face them and emerge victorious.
However.
“You’re saying the Warp Gate cannot be opened?”
Variables always arise.
“The Master of the Sea is blocking our path.”
“The Master of the Sea?”
“The Black Archipelago has appeared.”
The Black Archipelago. The life that Zeppelin Gold had burned away had summoned them.
“Warp Gates are magic that connects dimensions. To open a gate without a hair’s breadth of error, there must be no interference along the intended path. However, the fleet of the Black Archipelago has been deployed across the sea leading to our targets: the Central and Western Continents.”
“…….”
“It is as if they anticipated that our goal was not the Southern Continent, but to advance to the center and the west through it.”
“They would have anticipated it. Anyone would. The Warriors of the Plains wouldn’t have swarmed out just to take this one southern grassland. The moment the Conquest Army set foot on the sea, the pact was broken. Everyone must have guessed that the Great Land has finally bared its teeth to strike at the Empire.”
Yes, it was predictable. But for them to act so blatantly…
As expected, they shouldn’t have let that descendant of Gold die. They should have saved him somehow. House Gold always takes revenge on those who harm their family. No matter the cost.
“To break through, we have no choice but to launch our own ships and drive them away in a naval battle. But as everyone knows, the naval power of the Black Archipelago, along with the Invincible Fleet of the Free City, is nicknamed the ‘Master of the Sea.'”
“Now that the Invincible Fleet has sunk, they have become the true masters of the sea.”
“Of course, it’s not that there’s no way. As if to provoke us, the fleet of the Black Archipelago has adjusted their positions so that our Warp Gate paths align directly over their decks.”
“Adjusted the paths over their decks? What does that mean?”
“It means they’ve set it up so that if we open a Warp Gate, we’ll drop right on top of their heads.”
No one failed to understand the meaning behind that. It was an invitation: Come if you dare.
“I must ask the Descendant of Khan about this.”
“He certainly won’t back down.”
“Disgusting, salt-reeking bastards…”
The Warriors of the Plains bared their teeth in rage. However…
“Even the Descendant of Khan will be reluctant to go there.”
“What do you mean by that?”
A War Mage of the Machine Empire offered a different opinion. The Warriors of the Plains, finding the word “reluctant” offensive, all turned their predatory gazes toward him. The War Mage took a steadying breath before speaking.
“The Master of Gold is on those ships.”
The Master of Gold. There was only one person that title referred to.
“On land, it might be different, but on the sea, it is far too dangerous.”
Martina Gold. One of the Six Masters and the head of the Gold family. She was the woman who had lived the longest among all existing Swordmasters—a woman who had survived since the Age of War.
“Furthermore, there are others on those ships.”
“Others?”
“Mercenaries of the Armand Alliance, paid by the Red Bank. And numerous successors, including the current head of the Gold family. All the pillars supporting the modern House of Gold are gathered there.”
“…….”
“Therefore, this is not a decision to be made lightly.”
The pillars of House Gold. A Swordmaster of the Six Masters. And the elite mercenaries of the Armand Alliance. Only then did the Warriors of the Plains realize the level of force the Black Archipelago had brought. What they had prepared was nothing short of total war. It was a force that had scraped together everything Gold possessed, capable of wiping out a kingdom in an instant. Facing such resolve, the Warriors of the Plains recalled the grim maxim of the Black Archipelago.
“Do we have enough gold prepared…?”
* * *
“This city, too, has turned to ash.”
In the Machine Empire of Laprien, Ian Chervil murmured while holding the flag of the fallen empire. Following the Six Free Cities, he had claimed another empire. Now, the Iron Kingdom Chervil had gained a path into the Central Continent and had become a superpower possessing both resources and technology. Even if Ian Chervil were to die this instant, his kingdom would shine brilliantly. In history, he would be eternally recorded as the monarch who laid the foundation for the Great Empire of Steel Chervil. Ian knew this. He knew that even if he stopped here, he would be praised as an immortal monarch.
But he had no intention of stopping.
“Everyone has been blinded by the seeds we sowed. The greed of monarchs has boiled over once more; the thirst for glory and victory is exploding everywhere. Everyone has realized that war is the fastest and surest way to obtain it all.”
Glory and honor. Such things were never what Ian Chervil had desired.
“Soon, the Second Age of War will begin.”
Ian Chervil slowly raised his head while sitting on the throne. Beside him stood the most powerful executioner on the continent, and before him was a woman kneeling gracefully. She was draped in a lavish robe so brilliant it was dazzling.
“You know what this means, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
The woman slowly raised her head. The hood of her robe rustled as it fell back, revealing her face. In contrast to her beautiful appearance, her eyes resembled those of a reptile. Her sharply glowing pupils signified that she was not human.
“It is finally our time.”
“…….”
“Ah! I feel like I want to be held by you so desperately. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting since we crushed that old, pathetic fleet of the Free City? Do you know how much my blood—and the blood of the young dragons—has been boiling!”
Puhuhu , another voice mingled with the woman’s laughter. It was not a human sound. It was the cry of a natural-born ruler, an apex predator looking down on all creation.
“Leaving the cramped nest, we can finally fly through the vast sky to our heart’s content. Ah, it’s ecstatic. Truly ecstatic. I am becoming uncontrollably happy at the thought of burning everything and placing it all beneath the sky!”
With a growling sound, the woman’s body twisted. In the next moment, she cast off her human shell. Pointed horns sprouted, and the flesh and bone that had served as a disguise vanished, replaced by scales—the hardest substance on the continent.
“The Demons of the Plains. The barbarians of the east are blocked by the sea and cannot cross, all because of an old hag enraged by the loss of her child.”
Ian Chervil wore a twisted smile.
“Open the path for the lost demons, Little Dragon.”
At his command, the woman took flight without hesitation. The ceiling of the Blade Palace collapsed as the dragon soared into the sky above the ruins. Spreading her magnificent wings, she let out a roar as if venting all her past sorrows. Along with that thunderous cry, numerous dragons gathered around her. It was a sight unseen since the Age of War—the Dance of Dragons preceding total war.
Ian Chervil watched them fly freely. Before long, the Black Archipelago would face the returned Master of the Sky. They would not dare to act as masters of the sea in front of dragons. The dragons would land on the Central Continent with the demons on their backs, and together, they would burn everything in sight. No one would survive. No one.
“Carlos.”
“Yes.”
“Prepare yourself.”
Savoring the lashing whirlwind, Ian Chervil looked at his executioner.
“The time to fulfill my promise to you is not far off.”
* * *
A rapier is a type of sword.
This long, slender blade was not as commonly used as the longsword, primarily because it was a weapon swung with one hand. It was closer to a blade adopted by nobles for self-defense than a sword used by professional warriors.
And the sword of Tom, the former gladiator of the Arena, was this very rapier. It was an unusual choice for an Arena gladiator, but judging by the marks left on the steel, it seemed Tom had used this rapier for a very long time. How had Tom survived his youth with this slender blade? How had he succeeded as a gladiator, and why had he chosen this weapon in the first place? I had many questions. But I would soon find out.
“Whew.”
Because this sword… will now become a part of me.
“…….”
I looked at Tom. The old caretaker met my eyes with a weary expression and eventually nodded. It meant I could consume it without hesitation. I started to ask one more time if he was truly okay, but then I stopped. To ask further would be to disrespect Tom’s resolve. What I needed to do was not ask after Tom’s well-being, but to perfectly digest this sword. More perfectly than anything else.
“Hup.”
I took Tom’s sword into my mouth. And then…
『The Arena of Steel City Ferma seethes with youthful vigor.』
Soon, a powerful voice began to resonate.
『In the arena that has existed since the Age of War, countless youths gather to test each other’s bravery. Some die and vanish, while others achieve glorious victories and shine brighter than yesterday.』
『He was the only old man in the Arena of Steel City Ferma.』
The voice of the sword continued.
『For eighty-four days, he dueled every single day without fail.』
『And he did not achieve a single victory.』
.
.
.
『Not a single one.』
