Karnak, Monarch of Death

Emil Strauss found himself in a slightly different situation than Giyen Ren and Diogres. Varos charged in directly, his aura blade slashing forward.

—Delphiad Swordsmanship: Roar of the Thunder King!

The silver aura struck at Emil from shifting, unpredictable angles. Emil hurriedly swung his blade to parry.

When comparing the power imbued in their blades, Emil was clearly superior. Varos staggered backward, unable to withstand the force. Yet Emil could not immediately follow up. Spells came flying at him from all directions, as if they had been waiting for this moment.

”Death Blaster!”

”Titan Spear!”

”Dark Cloud!”

”Soul Destroyer!”

It was not just one or two, but four types of destructive magic, weaving together and closing in from every angle, leaving no path to dodge. There was no choice but to cloak himself fully in aura and withstand it.

Emil emerged from the deafening roar, fully cloaked in black smoke. He had managed to block them all, but his expression was deeply twisted. This is tough.

It was only natural. Even a martial king like Beltia or Batalok would struggle against four ninth-circle archliches fighting alongside Varos.

Thus, Varos abandoned Reversal Blade and began wielding the sword techniques of other martial kings instead. Now that his own life was safe, he found himself once again worrying about his preferences.

Delphiad Swordsmanship: Overkill!

Varos took advantage of an opening and slashed upwards. His attack grazed Emil’s chin as Emil barely evaded, panting heavily.

Clicking his tongue at the glancing blow, Varos muttered, ”Tch, he dodged that too?”

With the archliches having joined in, they had undeniably gained the upper hand, driving Emil back relentlessly. Yet taking Emil’s life was not as easy as it seemed.

Even in such a disadvantageous position, Emil continued to fight, relying on his innate talent and the Grace of Tesranach. But at this rate, the outcome was clear. As Emil pondered what he could do, a message suddenly arrived from Giyen Ren.

—Let us change tactics, Sir Emil!

—What exactly do you mean by that?

—We move Batalok!

For a moment, Emil could not grasp the meaning. Wasn’t Batalok already moving diligently enough?

—What I mean is, we should achieve our objective, even if it means sacrificing Batalok!

As Giyen Ren’s explanation followed, Emil’s eyes glinted. So that’s an option!

Through their mental link, Emil began channeling the Grace of Tesranach to Giyen Ren, who then converted the command within the grace into necromantic power. Emil himself knew nothing of necromancy. It was Giyen Ren and the future Diogres who had turned Batalok into a death knight.

However, it had been Emil’s Grace that had embedded Tesranach’s dominion within Batalok, thus requiring this complicated connection. Through their necromantic link, Emil Strauss issued a command. His empowered words leapt across dozens of kilometers.

—Batalok, in the name of Tesranach, I command you! Prioritize killing the priests of the goddesses over the enemies before you!

***

Batalok was engaged in a fierce battle against Chaplin and Desteran. His swordsmanship was clean and precise, free of unnecessary movements. Yet it was not always restrained. At the necessary moments, he would unleash wild, bestial strikes like a rampaging monster.

—Taledo Combat Arts, Heavenbreaker Flash.

The two silver knights groaned as they were swept up in the blazing golden aura that rippled like flames.

Truly, the realm of a martial king was lofty. No matter how hard they fought, they only accumulated wounds. They could not reverse the tide. Chaplin and Desteran’s bodies were soon drenched in blood. Yet neither of them retreated. There was still hope left within them.

For the Evil-Slaying Mage.

For High Priest Karnak.

Both thought of the same figure, steadying their resolve. We must buy him time!

They were aware that Karnak’s party had vanished from the battlefield. Of course, they had no idea what he was doing now. All Karnak had asked was for them to trust him. With no other options, they had no choice but to obey.

And Karnak was someone worthy of that trust. Among all the people of the continent, no one had inflicted as much damage upon the Black God’s Cult as he had. He was a man who had even earned the emperor’s approval.

Struggling to keep his dispersing silver aura gathered, Chaplin gritted his teeth. Fine, I’ll trust you and follow through!

And if Karnak failed? The world would fall under the dominion of the God of Death. Whether they died fighting now or later made no difference!

Chaplin kicked off the ground, shooting forward like an arrow. The dance of his aura blade aimed to misdirect Batalok, but failed completely. Batalok’s blade traced a graceful arc and elegantly deflected the assault. Chaplin lost his balance and staggered wildly, while Batalok stepped forward to deliver a follow-up strike.

Suddenly, Batalok froze in place. Then, he did something strange. He ignored the fallen Chaplin and kicked off the ground to leap backward. In the next instant, he widened the distance from his two enemies and turned his body, disregarding the two knights as he charged back toward the imperial army.

What... what is he doing? Though puzzled, Desteran immediately lashed out with his chain-sword.

A silver knight would be unworthy of the title if they allowed an enemy to walk away after turning their back.

The opening Batalok exposed was genuine. The chain-sword tore a long gash across his back, and black blood sprayed a wide arc. It was rather incomprehensible.

Why would he suddenly reveal such an obvious opening?

Desteran had been caught off guard and reacted a fraction too slow. It turned out to be a costly mistake. Having broken away, Batalok slipped into the rear ranks of the imperial army and began cutting down the priests of the church in plain sight.

”Damn it!”

”Th-that bastard!”

Chaplin and Desteran hurriedly gave chase, dashing after him.

***

The original command Batalok had received was simple.

—Slay every priest of the church within the imperial army.

It was a simple yet comprehensive order, and Batalok, using his own judgment, chose the most effective way to carry it out. That was why, when Chaplin and Desteran had appeared, he had prioritized engaging them in battle.

In his assessment, the most efficient method was to eliminate these two, the greatest obstacles to fulfilling his mission, before proceeding to massacre the church priests. But then, his order had changed.

—Prioritize killing the priests of the church over engaging the enemies before you.

The instruction was now clearer. Thus, Batalok’s actions became equally as clear. He discarded efficiency and prioritized slaughtering the priests of the church, even if it meant placing himself in danger.

Batalok swung his murderous blade without pause after plunging into the ranks of the priests. The martial king’s aura crashed down upon the priests relentlessly. Its power was more akin to a tidal wave or a storm than the sword of a man. The priests could not resist and fell in droves, dying practically meaningless deaths.

Chaplin and Desteran arrived a step too late and unleashed their aura-infused blades in desperation. ”What sort of monstrous cruelty is this?!”

However, Batalok did not bother to face them directly. He dodged and weaved their attacks while focusing solely on achieving his objective. To act so brazenly in front of silver knights, even for a martial king, was not without consequence.

Wounds began to multiply across Batalok’s body. Yet he paid them no mind. He was already a dead man. A few more wounds meant nothing as long as they did not sever his limbs or bring about a fatal blow.

He dodged when necessary, blocked just enough, and immediately slipped away. Then, he resumed his slaughter of the church priests. With screams of agony, the number of priests began to plummet exponentially.