Episode 123
Count Brandenburg, the Holy Swordmaster, was a formidable opponent, one that even Dale couldn’t confidently defeat in a fair fight. But not all battles in this world were fought fairly.
Bound by a geas, the Holy Swordmaster had driven a blade into his own heart, yet the man did not die.
The most noble sword in the world had sacrificed itself to protect the most vile being.
The sword, blessed by the goddess Sistina, was a relic from the first White Tower Master, the very thing that had elevated the Holy Swordmaster to his current status.
The sacred sword shattered, and with it, the Holy Swordmaster sustained a wound so grievous that continuing the battle was impossible. Though the sword had saved him from instant death, the shock was inescapable.
“I will never, ever forgive you…!”
Despite his injuries, which should have rendered him unable to fight, the “King of Pigs” charged forward.
He held no weapon, becoming a beast in every sense, no longer worthy of the title “Holy Swordmaster.”
With the ferocity of a boar’s tusks, he closed the distance swiftly.
At the same time, Dale swung the obsidian demon sword, Ghia, and the shadowy cloak he wore unfurled, unleashing a barrage of black blades.
The blades, born from the shadows of the cloak, shot forth like bullets.
The black blades, cloaked in the darkness of the demon sword Ghia, rained down like a bombardment. The boar screamed.
“Graaaah!”
It was not a human scream. It was the sound of a pig being slaughtered.
‘This isn’t a situation where a normal fight can continue.’
Even at a fraction of his full strength, the Holy Swordmaster was formidable. But the “King of Pigs,” consumed by rage, cared not.
He charged like a beast, heedless of the black blades tearing into his flesh. The distance closed. His tusks, like horns, aimed to impale Dale, and then—
“Now.”
Dale whispered softly. From the shadows, a sword emerged to protect him.
Lady Shadow.
Once defeated by the “King of Pigs” and stripped of her kingdom, her sword now swung against him.
Gone was the avatar of golden light and angelic wings.
In its place stood a black Valkyrie, a maiden of war renowned for her beauty and cruelty. Her armor, black and red, was stained with blood.
The blood-red aura blade, reborn through the teachings of the killing sword, was no exception.
The assassin’s blade, a mix of black and blood-red, swung toward the charging boar’s tusks.
“Graaaah!”
Once more, the ugliest scream in the world echoed.
Leaving behind the sound of a pig being slaughtered, Lady Shadow and Dale crossed paths on the ground.
It was no longer a fight. It was a hunt for a frenzied boar.
The black Valkyrie targeted the boar’s blind spot, driving her blood sword deep, never forgetting the humiliation and shame once inflicted by the “King of Pigs.”
Slash!
The boar’s leather armor tore easily, and the blood sword plunged deep. Just as Aurelia was about to swing her sword to decapitate him—
“That’s enough.”
Dale reached out to stop Aurelia. Her sword halted, and the boar, refusing to submit, tried to gore her with its tusks.
“Black Barrel, ‘Gatling Mode.’”
Countless shadow bullets rained down from the black barrel. They pounded mercilessly at the “King of Pigs,” who was making his final, desperate stand.
Thud!
His massive body fell to its knees. Yet even this was not enough to kill him.
The avatar faded, leaving the wounded Count Brandenburg behind.
The former Holy Swordmaster, kneeling weakly amidst shattered armor.
“Ah, ah…”
In despair, as if he had lost everything in the world, he let out a feeble groan.
At the end of his groan, his arm moved. Incredibly fast. He grabbed a sharp piece of rubble from the ground and aimed it at his own throat.
But before he could act, a shadow rose like a spike from the ground.
“Aaaah!”
“Did you think you could die so easily?”
The shadow pierced his palm, pinning it down, as Dale spoke.
“Not a chance.”
“You, you…!”
“According to the Empire’s tradition, Count Brandenburg will survive.”
Dale taunted with exaggerated politeness, making it clear that death would not come easily.
“As a prisoner of the Lancaster Grand Duchy, you’ll receive the treatment you deserve.”
Killing isn’t always the answer. Even if it’s someone you despise.
Meanwhile, screams echoed in the distance.
The cries of the “Knights of Saint Magdalena.”
“Curious about what’s happening to them right now?”
Dale coldly mocked the helpless Holy Swordmaster.
“Not a single Knight of Saint Magdalena here will leave alive.”
”…!”
“And as for the Holy Swordmaster… or rather, the former Holy Swordmaster.”
Dale paused, then taunted leisurely. Count Brandenburg’s face twisted in rage.
“Like father, like son. Both of you squandered precious Knights of Saint Magdalena and ended up as pathetic prisoners.”
Count Brandenburg writhed under the taunting that pierced his heart, but Lady Shadow and the high assassins of the Shadow Court had already bound him.
“Cut all his tendons.”
Dale ordered coldly, without hesitation.
Slash!
Blades sliced through, severing the tendons that allowed a person to move.
The ankles, wrists, fingers, shoulders—every cog that connected flesh to flesh was removed.
The Empire’s war hero, the Holy Swordmaster, was no more. Only a pitiful cripple remained.
Dale’s expression as he watched held no emotion.
He simply considered the fate of the Brandenburg family, who had lost their knights, their sacred sword, and were now on the path to ruin.
As his father, the Black Duke, had said, accepting death is easier than enduring. It frees you from all the pain that weighs you down.
But as long as you live, pain never ends easily.
He recalled the pain of the sacred sword that had pierced his chest from behind.
He longed to reveal the truth and see the despair on his enemy’s face, but the time wasn’t right.
Count Brandenburg’s hell was just beginning.
Meanwhile, in the city, a man appeared before the isolated Knights of Saint Magdalena.
A chilling aura descended, and a few perceptive knights turned their heads.
Slash!
Before they could react, one of their heads was severed.
Blood sprayed, revealing the form of the deadly aura. It was a wire, imbued with incredible cutting power.
Realizing its nature, the blood-soaked wire lashed out again.
The deathly threads whipped indiscriminately toward the cavalry, maintaining their formation in isolation.
“Draw your swords, all of you!”
The aura masters and their knights prepared for battle, understanding the threat.
Deathly threads, like spider webs, lashed out from all directions.
The high assassins of the Shadow Court, hidden throughout the city, wove the web. Each assassin was a point connecting the web, which moved to slaughter the invincible defensive formation.
Blood-red threads flew, severing heads and limbs with each strike.
The high assassins’ precise cooperative attack. Under the right conditions, it was the ultimate killing force.
At the same time, a man blocked the path of the Knights of Saint Magdalena.
“Well, damn. Can you even call it an assassination if you kill all the witnesses in broad daylight?”
The killing sword spun the hilt in his hand, laughing.
”…”
When the Swordmaster Sephilia arrived in the small town of Fortnum with her “Iron Cross Knights” to assist the Holy Sword Cavalry, the battle was already over.
The town lay in ruins, its streets turned into makeshift barricades, and within them, a literal slaughterhouse had unfolded.
”…It’s the formation of the Shadow Assassins.”
“Are you referring to the assassins of the Shadow Court?”
“Yes.”
Sephilia murmured softly as she surveyed the scene. Her intuition was spot on.
These were the enforcers of the Guild City, remnants of the “Shadow Church” that had slipped into the city’s underbelly, evading the White Tower.
“Why are they aiding the House of Lancaster here?”
Despite the massacre, the Knights of St. Magdalene were not ones to be easily overwhelmed. In a fair fight, they would have held their ground.
But this was not their home turf. The ambush had been unexpected, a nightmare scenario they couldn’t have foreseen.
Yet, one question remained unanswered.
Even if they had fallen into a trap, wasn’t the Holy Sword, one of the Seven Swords of the Continent, supposed to be leading them?
The absence of the Holy Sword was troubling. Without knowing Dale’s geass, she could only speculate.
A formidable opponent against another of equal might.
“Could it be… the Death Sword…?”
Sephilia stopped herself mid-thought, then made a swift decision.
“We must return to the Marquisate and report the situation immediately.”
She couldn’t fathom why they were aiding the Lancasters here, but she had a hunch.
“Could it be…?”
She recalled the “Black Prince” of the Saxon family she had seen at the Lancaster estate that day.
There was no certainty, just a gut feeling. The Saxon family hadn’t just sent a few hundred Night Raven Knights or a handful of high-ranking dark mages.
The Shadow Court, the continent’s most feared assassin organization, was allied with that “Black Prince.”