Karnak, Monarch of Death

Leven danced through a dazzling flurry of swordplay, aiming once more for Beltia’s blind spot.

Delphiad Swordsmanship: Flame King’s Dance!

From the left, Desteran’s silver chain blade writhed like a living serpent and struck out.

Desteran-Style Chain Blade: Chain of Mist!

Charging head-on was Varos, bringing down a devastating strike.

Reversal Blade: Ravaging Mad Hound!

Beltia calmly met their onslaught. Golden, radiant swordlight erupted like a storm, unleashing dozens of explosions. She couldn’t help but let out a breath of admiration while shielding herself amid the chaos. They are truly formidable.

Desteran’s skills came as no surprise, since he was already known to her. But she was genuinely astonished by the others. Varos and Leven had reached heights that were nothing short of prodigious, even impossible at their age.

So there are two future martial king candidates standing before me, she thought.

Of course, that was mere admiration. It wasn’t as though she felt threatened. With a short breath, Beltia effortlessly parried every attack.

Then, the motion of defense transitioned fluidly into offense. In a flawless unity of attack and defense, her golden aura blade lashed out and rippled with immense shockwaves.

The sheer impact drove Desteran and Leven backward as they grimaced.

”Urgh!”

”Even that didn’t work?”

Seizing an opening, Serati joined in with a sweeping blue aura blade.D

—Tascal Style: Dual-Strike Cleave!

Naturally, it didn’t land. Beltia easily deflected Serati’s attack with a mere flick of her wrist.

Beltia narrowed her eyes while watching the girl retreat. That girl seems to have something beyond her skill level as well.

The aura users continued to throw themselves at her, again and again. But there was no opening to exploit. Even amidst this, Beltia never took her eyes off Karnak.

That mage hasn’t done anything this whole time.

There was a saying passed around within the imperial military. On the battlefield, the most laughable foe is a mage who’s done nothing yet

But the most terrifying is also a mage who’s done nothing yet.

So Beltia periodically hurled aura blades at Karnak to keep him under pressure. Which, unsurprisingly, was making Karnak increasingly anxious. He’d narrowly avoided Beltia’s attacks so far, but how long would that last? He needed to retaliate, and soon.

Damn it, there’s just no opening.

Everyone had grown stronger. He’d expected that, even if they couldn’t defeat her, they could at least throw her off balance. But she was indeed a figure befitting her title. Even while being attacked from all sides, she observed the entire battlefield with perfect composure. There was simply no gap to exploit.

Should I use Diogres?

Capturing Diogres was a divine command for Beltia. She could never ignore it.

If I threatened to kill him, maybe she’d waver... The thought flashed through his mind, but Karnak dismissed it immediately. No, that won’t work.

That kind of bluff only worked if the other party believed—beyond doubt—that Karnak meant it. It would only work against those from the future who had once served under him. But Beltia wasn’t someone who had returned from the future. She was the martial king of the present day.

She’d never buy it.

And it wasn’t even a bluff Karnak could follow through on. He couldn’t actually put a blade through Diogres’s neck. That would just ruin their relationship and gain him nothing.

There’s got to be another way. I just need one moment, just a single opening...

***

Razor-sharp killing intent surged through Beltia’s golden aura, spiraling outward in a storm. It caused an eruption of a whirlwind of blades that sliced and pierced all of her enemies’ limbs and joints. But Beltia never rushed.

Calmly, without exposing a single opening, she pressed forward with the composure of a perfected warrior. As time passed, the scales of the battle tipped more and more in her favor. Eventually, Varos took a direct hit. A long gash opened across his chest, and a fountain of blood sprayed into the air.

It was a critical wound. The only reason he wasn’t dead was because, in that fleeting instant, he had abandoned his offense and diverted all of his aura into defense. Even though her strike had been lethal, Beltia wasn’t surprised that he had survived.

I expected as much from someone of his caliber.

Still, she had brought him down. With Varos dealt with, the rest would follow easily. Her movements grew swifter, and golden arcs blazed like lightning between Karnak’s allies.

”Gah!”

”D-Damn it...!”

All of them were at their limits. The second to fall was Desteran. The silver-haired young man tumbled across the ground. A long gash stretched from his shoulder to his side, leaking a steady flow of crimson.

Beltia glanced down at him and once again found herself impressed. Even with such a grievous injury, Desteran had yet to die. He was holding his wounds shut with the remainder of his aura, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

As expected of a silver knight. Experience counts for something.

Next was Leven, collapsing in a spray of blood. He, too, narrowly avoided instant death. Despite the force of the blow threatening to shatter his entire body, he had instinctively redirected the residual destructive force outward using his aura. That kind of instinct couldn’t be taught. You were either born with it or not.

As expected of a Strauss. You can’t deny that kind of talent.

The last to fall to her knees was Serati. She was also covered in blood.

Beltia’s expression shifted as she looked at the staggering girl. But why is she still alive?

That last slash had carried both the angle and the force to be fatal. And yet, somehow, it missed Serati’s vitals at the very last moment. Beltia knew why. It was just luck. A misstep at the critical moment had thrown off the timing ever so slightly. What she couldn’t understand was how someone could be that lucky so consistently.

She’s getting lucky too often.

But Beltia quickly dismissed the thought. That red-haired girl had never been a serious threat from the start. She turned toward her true target, Diogres. There were now only three obstacles standing in her way. Karnak, the priest, and the gray-haired girl standing before her with a purple aura blade.

Despite her fallen companions, the young girl’s gaze remained steady. But it wasn’t as if she knew no fear. Her trembling hands and racing heartbeat betrayed her. And yet she stood her ground, summoning courage to overcome her fear and face a martial king. Beltia, frankly, was impressed.

Another future martial king candidate? How could so many heaven-blessed prodigies have gathered in one place?

If she had met them before joining the Cult of the Black God, she might have taken them as disciples. But now, she had a sacred mission that surpassed all else.

”Stand down, child,” she said, her voice cool as she gazed at the gray-haired girl. ”You don’t seriously believe you survived thus far due to your skill, do you?”

Lapicel forced a strained smile. ”I know. You were going easy on me because I’m young, right?”

Unlike the others, Lapicel bore no serious wounds. If Beltia’s daughter had lived, she would have been around Lapicel’s age. Thus, Beltia had gone easy on her without realizing it.

Lapicel stuck out her tongue playfully and joked, even as she quivered. ”Since you’ve gone this far... could you keep going easy on me?”

For the first time, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Beltia’s mouth. ”You’re a bold one.”

She was bold, but righteous. This was an unmistakable display of determination not to abandon her comrades.

Beltia raised her golden aura blade toward Lapicel. ”I’ll make sure not to hurt you too much when I bring you down.”

***

The sword of gold danced.

Ah... Aura streamed endlessly across Lapicel’s vision. So this is the realm of a martial king.

It was a truly elegant and beautiful sword. Everything followed reason. It felt as if the world itself and Beltia’s blade moved as one. It was immense and overwhelming.

And familiar...

Lapicel was confused by the sudden thought. Familiar? Why? She’d just met this woman today. She couldn’t understand it, yet somehow, she felt as though she did.

Something’s wrong with me...

As if entranced, Lapicel raised her sword. The purple aura blade began weaving into the golden trajectory. Hers was a frail sword, pitiful and slender when compared to the absolute form of a martial king. And yet, it did not break. A purple thread fluttered through the storm of gold and glided along with effortless grace.

What... what is this? Beltia’s expression turned rigid.

The gray-haired girl was no longer using the Tascal style.

Croterian Sword?

It was the technique that had made Beltia the Martial King of Cyphras, and she had never passed it on to anyone. It was a technique so advanced it required extreme talent just to learn. No one else should’ve known it. No one but her.

For the first time, cracks appeared in Beltia’s ever-calm expression. ”How... How do you know this sword style?”

The form wasn’t identical. Beltia and the girl had different builds and different aura. Their external techniques couldn’t be perfectly alike. But the intention was the same. The flow was the same. The ideal it pursued was identical to one another. There was no doubt. This was her sword style.

Her detachment shattered, and a scream tore from her lips. ”Answer me!”

But Lapicel did not waver. She had already entered the realm of the unconscious. She was moving not with thought, but with instinct alone. She was like a puppet, guided by nothing else but the principle of the sword.

”I said answer me!” Beltia’s aura exploded outward and roared in every direction. Her blade, now raised in fury and confusion, swelled with staggering power.

It was a truly terrifying force. One strike, and that small girl would be reduced to nothing but a smear of blood. But she could not strike.

Because at that exact moment, Karnak let out a piercing shout from behind. ”Watch out, Lapicel!”

Lapicel?

A girl with the same name as her daughter was wielding the exact same sword technique as her. Why? How? What could this mean? Her hands trembled, and even her sword began to shake.

No... I mean, this... isn’t... but still...

Confusion flooded Beltia’s mind like a crashing tide.

***

Karnak was inwardly rejoicing. Finally... a crack in your defenses, Beltia!

He hadn’t anticipated this from the start. He had expected Varos or the other aura users to shake her, not Lapicel, and certainly not with that swordplay. But what did it matter now? The moment had arrived, and he had no intention of wasting it.

He’d shouted Lapicel’s name on purpose, hammering the wedge into Beltia’s shaken mind. That one word had fractured the iron will of the Martial King of Cyphras. Now everything was in place. Every piece had aligned.

There may be no hope of defeating the Martial King of Cyphras in a fair fight, but... He stirred his chaos aura and subtly infused it with necromantic power. But I might just be able to defeat Beltia.

With a triumphant smile, Karnak spread his arms wide. ”Rise, Nightmare of a Thousand years!”

***

Beltia let out a dazed moan. Darkness filled her vision. Blackness surrounded her on all sides. Her mind was hazy. She couldn’t even remember how she had gotten here.

All she felt was sorrow. It was deep and unrelenting sorrow. Everything around her was too vague to be real, yet far too vivid to be a dream. She was in a pitch-black world that blurred the line between dream and waking.

Then a voice called out to her. It was a small, delicate, lovely, and sweet voice. ”Mom.”

It was a voice she had never once forgotten.