"Aaaargh!"
"Please, spare me!"
"Please, just spare my life..."
In the capital of Grimwell, massacres continued day after day. In this slaughter, neither social status nor the severity of one's crimes mattered.
Literally, everyone was dragged away and killed. A few individuals attempted to rally others to resist, but they were no match for the Salvation Church.
The plaza in the capital was drenched in blood. So much blood had been spilled that it resembled a flood, with the soldiers' ankles always submerged in it.
In the center of the bloody plaza stood a small platform, upon which lay a simple bracelet.
By the time not even an animal was left in the capital, Gartros summoned all the priests to begin the ritual.
"Begin the ritual."
Dozens of priests gathered and began chanting the Salvation Church's vision.
Hooo...
From the magic circle, an eerie energy began to flow out, sucking in the surrounding blood.
The magic circle greedily consumed the blood, turning a vivid red. The blood, which had crawled up toward the platform, began to seep into the bracelet placed there.
Gartros, with a tense gaze, watched this scene unfold.
'Please…'
If the bracelet wasn't a holy relic, it would be stained with the blood and turn into a foul artifact, like the "Orb of Life," something worthless.
He had gone through so much sacrifice and failure for nothing if that was the case. It had never made any sense.
But if it truly was a holy relic…
Boom!
Suddenly, an incredibly bright light exploded from the bracelet.
It was the same light Gartros had seen in Lutania. The holy power hidden within it rejected the magic circle's energy, causing the blood to squirm, unable to seep in.
The strength inside the light was enough to instantly devour most holy relics.
Gartros shot up from his seat.
"Ha, ha ha... Hahahahaha!"
He laughed maniacally. He had found it. The holy relic he had longed for all these years.
All the sacrifices and failures had been worth it.
The light extended endlessly, spreading through the air as though announcing its existence to the world.
Gartros shouted loudly.
"Oh, King! Oh, King! Feel this light! We eagerly await the day we shall meet!"
Their king, Gartros was sure, existed somewhere in this world. It was promised, it was foretold. Their mission, too, was to awaken the king's purpose.
The holy relic was needed to awaken the king's "memory."
"Hurry, collect the energy! Quickly!"
As the priests halted their chanting, the energy from the magic circle began to slowly fade. The blood that had climbed up the platform drained away, and the light from the holy relic gradually dimmed.
Gartros carefully took the bracelet and fastened it to his wrist. His expression revealed how precious this moment was to him.
From a distance, Idun shook his head.
"Ugh, disgusting."
The stench, the dampness, and the blood-soaked plaza filled with the scent of decay.
To him, this wasn't even close to being artistic.
Though he didn't hate blood, he wasn't about to admire this filthy act, especially when it wasn't even a ceremony meant to praise him.
Idun had no interest or sympathy for this Salvation Church.
Of course, on the surface, he acted as if he were a devout member of the Salvation Church, but the truth was far different.
With a shrug, Idun, standing next to the leader of the revolution, Leonard, asked.
"What do you think? This is your first time seeing a ritual like this, right? It's dirty, but isn't it interesting?"
"..."
"Yeah, it's hard to understand at first. Just think of it as their own ritual. You don't need to worry about it too much."
"... Okay."
Leonard responded briefly, then ended the conversation. His mind was still a tangled mess, and he couldn't focus on the ritual itself.
After the failed ambush, he had been thoroughly humiliated. Although no one said anything directly, the atmosphere made it clear.
Everyone seemed to question why he had taken on Duke Fenris alone, only to lose troops.
'Damn…'
Leonard had to admit it. He had been completely played. It felt like Duke Fenris had entered his mind and stolen all his plans.
But what lingered more in his mind was something else.
'Yulian.'
The man who used techniques beyond imagination. Even now, he couldn't understand how such a technique was possible.
He considered himself one of the strongest in the continent, so he thought he could handle anyone one-on-one.
But that idea had shattered when he met Yulian.
Leonard exhaled quietly.
'Sure, he's strong... but…'
There were many superhumans here. The Artrode army was strong too. His revolutionary army had also joined forces.
They should have been able to claim the title of the continent's strongest. No matter how much the allied forces grew, they believed they could overpower them.
At least that was what they thought, before facing those two.
Both were stronger than the rumors. What made Leonard more uneasy was that he still couldn't fully comprehend their abilities.
Leonard looked over at Gartros, who was still staring at the bracelet in his hand, drenched in blood.
'Is this really the end of the world, like the rumors say? A bunch of lunatics…'
All he wanted was to claim his own kingdom. To fulfill that desire, he had allied with the Salvation Church.
But the Salvation Church, despite its enormous power, was now sacrificing so many troops and strategizing poorly just to find their king.
'Is this really a war to find a person? Shouldn't that be something for after the war ends?'
Leonard couldn't understand it. The so-called king was not an ordinary king, but a "religious leader."
And he had discovered something else during his time with them.
The Salvation Church's king was also called the "Adversary of the Goddesses."
'It means he's planning to fight the Goddesses.'
Leonard shook his head.
How could they think they would fight a god, when they hadn't even conquered the continent yet?
Looking at their actions, there seemed to be something there, but it still felt like nothing but delusional fantasy.
But since he had allied with them, Leonard had no choice but to fight the allied forces. The one thing occupying his mind now was simple.
'Yulian.'
How could he defeat that monster of a man?
***
"Waaaah! We've won!"
The allied forces led by Yulian cheered as they captured an Artrode Army fortress.
It was an overwhelmingly easy victory. The enemy was weak, and on their side stood Yulian, an absolute powerhouse.
As the soldiers tended to the wounded and began clearing the battlefield, Yulian, observing the scene, felt a strange sensation.
"Hmm."
An unidentifiable energy seemed to envelop him. It was vivid and intense.
Yulian slowly turned his head toward the direction where the energy originated.
And there, he saw them.
Scribble, scribble.
Sketch, sketch.
Several people were surrounding him, busily sketching.
"...."
They were people sent by Claude, the head butler of the Lutania army. These individuals had been following him since the allied forces split, constantly sketching him at every opportunity.
Claiming to be "war record scribes," Yulian initially paid them little mind. After all, it wasn't unusual for historians to document events on the battlefield.
But over time, their behavior became increasingly conspicuous. At first, Yulian ignored it, but their blatant fixation on him eventually led him to inquire.
"Is that really necessary?"
Hearing Yulian, who rarely spoke, address them, one of the artists responded with a face filled with admiration.
"Yes! We've been given the great honor of meticulously documenting Lord Yulian—oh, I mean, this war in detail—so we must not falter for even a moment!"
"...."
Hearing this, Yulian fell silent again.
Though they claimed to be documenting the war, they only drew him. They didn't draw anything else.
Yulian glanced to the other side. There, a group of scribes were fervently writing about him.
Out of curiosity, Marquis Gidion, who commanded the Turian forces, once called in the "lead war chronicler" to clarify their purpose.
— "Why is it important to note what Lord Yulian ate today?"
— "It's to ensure he maintains a balanced diet..."
— "And why is that your concern?"
— "Lord Yulian is an important figure..."
— "Then why are you collecting discarded items he's used?"
— "To reduce waste and protect the environment, we've taken it upon ourselves to—"
— "Why write down how many times he brushes his hair back?"
— "Well, it's to document Lord Yulian's... 'coolness'..."
—...
—...
At that point, neither party had anything left to say.
Regardless, the scribes were fervently dedicated. How this related to war documentation was anyone's guess.
Suspicious as it was, Marquis Gidion found it difficult to outright stop them.
'Hah, all thanks to that Claude fellow…'
As the self-proclaimed "second-in-command" of the Lutania army, Claude had ordered this, and it was awkward for Gidion to countermand it.
Besides, it didn't seem like any critical information was at stake. Most of what the scribes wrote was just lavish praise for Yulian.
In fact, Yulian himself wasn't particularly interested, but his popularity was soaring to unimaginable heights.
A forsaken prince with a tragic backstory, his graceful and noble demeanor, a face sculpted like a god's masterpiece, an aura of mystery—combined with his unmatched martial prowess—made him an object of adoration.
Men, women, young, and old alike were captivated just hearing stories about him. Many yearned for a single glimpse of Yulian, considering it their life's wish.
It wasn't surprising. The world was undergoing a transformation due to two individuals: Yulian and Ghislain.
Claude, recognizing an opportunity, had seized the moment to make a profit.
— "You know it works. We've done it before. This stuff sells."
Portraits of Yulian, personal details, and items he had used were sold under Claude's operation at a dizzying rate.
Even amid the war, nobody could afford to focus on such activities.
Having failed once under Ghislain's scrutiny, Claude had restructured his operations into a decentralized network, modeled after the Salvation Church and the Revolutionaries, making it harder to track.
Yulian, unaware of the intricacies, continued to march forward with the self-proclaimed scribes.
Unlike the Lutania army's overwhelming "Operation Meteor," Yulian's unmatched strength allowed for other approaches.
"Fire!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
At Marquis Gidion's command, the allied forces launched a barrage of stones from their catapults.
However, with their limited number, the catapults couldn't fully breach the fortress. Instead, they targeted and suppressed the soldiers on the walls.
Even so, the Turian army had the upper hand. With fewer mages, the Artrode forces struggled to defend against magic attacks.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
While the fortress' forces suffered heavy casualties under the combined siege and magic attacks, they abandoned efforts to suppress magic and launched a counterattack.
Given enough time, the Turian army would undoubtedly capture the fortress with minimal losses. The disparity in strength was clear.
But Yulian had no intention of prolonging the battle. Time spent was never without casualties.
"I'll go now."
With the enemy forces on the walls sufficiently thinned, Yulian charged alone. Following closely behind were fully armored knights.
Seeing a group charging toward them, the fortress commander shouted.
"Kill them!"
Fwoosh!
Arrows rained down from the walls. Yet the soldiers atop the fortress were soon met with an incomprehensible sight.
"W-what is that?"
Thud, thud, thud.
The knights following Yulian raised their shields to deflect the arrows or let them glance off their armor. This was typical in battle and nothing surprising.
But the figure at the forefront...
Thud, thunk, thud.
The arrows veered off course, striking the ground instead. The lead figure didn't do anything; he simply kept running.
Most superhumans either obliterated or deflected arrows with sheer power, avoiding unnecessary mana expenditure. Yet this man didn't even try to evade or counter the arrows—they simply avoided him.
"W-what is this?!"
Stunned by the surreal scene, the fortress defenders froze.
Their attacks stopped, their attention transfixed on the charging figure. Overwhelmed by shock, they couldn't move.
Reaching the fortress gate, Yulian drew his sword.
The blade glowed with a vivid blue light, its brilliance more radiant than usual—a sign he was using considerable energy.
Yulian swung his sword at the massive gate before him.
Slash!
Thud! Crash!
The fortress gate split in two and collapsed.
[T/L: I am in dire need of support. I will give discount to all those who will buy the rest of the chapters all together, so please support me the reader on my webnovel platform and read ahead chapters on my ko-fi page "RevengerScans" : https://ko-fi.com/revengerscans ]