Episode 161
The appearance of the Immortal Duke Frederick changed nothing, even with the death of the 7th Circle White Mage, Borrenus.
The church’s forces, which had shattered the Crusaders’ cause and attacked Dale’s troops, still remained. And there, too, was Dale’s father, the Black Duke.
Though he now inhabited the body of a twelve-year-old boy, the aura he once commanded was not entirely lost. The essence within that youthful form remained unchanged.
The battle was far from over.
Despite Dale’s orders for both sides to maintain a cautious distance, this was merely a fleeting truce born from unexpected circumstances.
And as those circumstances unfolded, the two Saxon men stood together.
“To think the church’s forces would attack us, given the situation.”
It was an undeniable act of betrayal within Saxon territory, likely intended to frame Dale’s downfall as an unfortunate disaster in the Demon Realm.
It was a situation that defied laughter.
The Black Duke lifted his head.
“Thank you, Father.”
In that tense standoff, with both armies poised for conflict, Dale spoke without hesitation.
The Immortal Duke Frederick was a monster beyond Dale’s current capabilities—a true force of nature.
It was a stark reminder of how vast the world was and how small he had been within it.
Yet, Dale’s father stood unflinchingly before him, ready to protect his son even at the brink of death. It was an unexpected deus ex machina that even Dale hadn’t foreseen.
While he had some faith that Shub would aid him, he never imagined his father would appear.
This realization tightened an inexplicable emotion in Dale’s chest.
“I, too, am relieved I wasn’t too late.”
The Black Duke nodded with a quiet smile, reminiscent of a younger Dale.
Then, turning his gaze toward the church forces that had attacked Saxon, the smile vanished from the Duke’s face.
“The church’s recklessness has always been regrettable.”
And to prove the infamous reputation of the Black Duke, he waved his hand.
“Fools.”
His voice was devoid of any emotion toward his enemies.
Strictly speaking, the man standing there was not the “Black Duke” everyone knew, but rather a boy closer to Dale’s younger brother. Yet, that was a trivial detail. In some ways, it was fortunate. Better that than the despair they would feel upon realizing the man’s true identity.
The church’s forces began to prepare for battle. In response, the troops behind the Saxon father and son also readied themselves.
Dale turned his head, signaling to Sir Yones in the distance with a subtle shake, as if to say it wasn’t necessary.
And then it happened.
Boom!
The ground trembled.
Crack, crack!
Right in front of where Dale and the Black Duke stood, the earth split open, drawing a line.
“An earthquake spell…?”
Dale thought for a moment. But no, it wasn’t.
From the crevasse-like fissure in the ground…
Thud!
Something unknown emerged. A tower made of bones. A tower? No, it was a creature’s forelimb.
A forelimb made of bone.
An impossibly large bony forelimb rose and slammed down toward the church’s forces.
Screams echoed. The impact was like a building collapsing, and the troops caught beneath it were crushed beyond recognition. The ground shook again from the overwhelming force.
Yet, this strike was not an “attack.”
The act of crushing a wing of the church’s forces was merely “it” using its forelimb to pull itself up to the surface.
The frozen lands of the Demon Realm split open, and from the abyss, it began to crawl upward.
A dragon of bones.
A dragon of death.
”…!”
Understanding the symbolism of this act, Dale could only gasp in shock.
The twin-headed dragon symbolizing the Empire, and the Pendragon, the imperial family’s name.
In the Empire of Dragons, the Black Duke wielded a dragon of death, a direct affront to the Empire.
The dragon of death spread its skeletal wings and roared. Or rather, they weren’t even wings.
They were wing bones.
The darkness that seemed to tear the earth apart engulfed the area. The despairing echo of dark magic.
Howl of Terror.
Horses, gripped by fear, reared wildly, and even the soldiers were not immune.
Some trembled uncontrollably, while others broke ranks and fled in panic.
Yet, whatever the Black Duke had done, the fear and darkness spread by the dragon of death were directed solely at the church’s enemies. Not that the Saxon soldiers and horses were unaffected by the sight.
The fear and darkness, and the shadow of death, were clearly distinguished between friend and foe.
The dragon of death took flight, its skeletal wings spread wide.
The shadow of the soaring dragon swallowed the area, and the crimson twilight failed to reach the ground, fading away.
Light vanished from the world, and darkness descended.
An inescapable shadow of death.
The last survivors of the church were there.
Master Templars clad in blood armor, the fanatics of the Templar Order.
They had no strength left to fight.
But that did not mean they would surrender.
“May you be cursed even in death, Saxon apostates!”
“We eagerly await the hell that awaits you!”
“Do you think we fear death? The paradise of the Sister Goddesses awaits us!”
Before their curses, the Black Duke sneered coldly.
“Paradise, you say?”
Unconcerned with the shell of his body, he spoke with incomparable terror.
“Unfortunately, you will not be entering any paradise.”
“Hah, a damned apostate dares to question our faith!”
One of the Master Templars scoffed, and the Black Duke tilted his head as if puzzled.
“Do you still not understand the meaning of my words?”
Accelerating the eight circles that followed his heart.
“What you should truly fear is not death itself…”
To prove the notorious cruelty of the Black Duke.
“But the eternal life where even death is not permitted.”
In the end, the Crusade concluded in victory, albeit a victory achieved through unspeakable sacrifice.
Of the four divisions, the main force led by the 7th Prince Mordred saw only the prince survive, while the church’s forces, including the 7th Circle White Mage Borrenus and the Master Templars, were utterly annihilated.
In contrast, the Red Mage Tower and Saxon forces secured victory with relatively minimal losses, yet neither the Imperial family nor the church raised any objections.
The ugly truth hidden within the proud victory of the Crusaders.
The Duke of Saxon declared the lands of the Demon Realm officially conquered in his name, while the church, despite the immense sacrifice, celebrated the Crusaders’ victory as the fulfillment of the Goddess’s will.
The Saxon Viscount, Dale, also formally expressed gratitude for the church’s zeal and martyrdom.
The fact that the church had betrayed the Crusaders and attacked Saxon became a powerful card to hold against the church in the future.
Meanwhile, in the Duke’s bedroom at Saxon Castle.
A boy, who could easily be mistaken for Dale’s younger brother, sat on the bed, sipping wine.
His wife, Elena, returned to the room wrapped in a robe after her shower.
“Hehe, darling.”
”…”
With a smile she couldn’t hide, Elena sat beside the Duke of Saxon, more affectionate than ever.
“It’s hard to believe you were ever this adorable.”
The Duke of Saxon remained silent, enduring Elena’s playful teasing.
“Oh my, how cute.”
“Could you stop teasing me now?”
The Duke of Saxon cleared his throat awkwardly, turning his head. But the smile on Elena’s lips refused to fade.
When the Duke first appeared at the castle, Elena could never forget her shock.
A boy who looked just like the Duke of Saxon, yet younger than Dale.
It was only natural she thought an unknown “illegitimate child” had come seeking his father.
Until the boy, who resembled the Duke so closely, spoke those words.
“It’s me, Elena.”
”…?”
Realizing that her beloved had suddenly reverted to the body of a twelve-year-old boy…
“Seeing you like this, I can’t help but feel like I’m looking at Dale’s younger brother,” Elena said with a sly smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Now that I think about it, isn’t three children better than two?” she added, her voice teasing.
The Duke of Saxony, caught off guard by her suggestion, cleared his throat awkwardly. “Elena, as you can see, I’m not exactly in the best condition right now…”
“Oh, but isn’t the man I love still inside there somewhere?” she replied, her tone playful yet affectionate.
Their marriage had found a new spark, a liveliness that hadn’t been there before.
“Daddy!”
Elena wasn’t the only one who had to adjust to the Duke’s transformation. To seven-year-old Lise, her father was always a gentle and kind figure, quite unlike the fearsome reputation he held. Now, seeing him in the body of his younger self was a new adventure.
“Come play with me!” she exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over.
“Alright, Lise. Just don’t run too fast,” he cautioned with a chuckle.
“Okay!”
She bounced around with the joy of someone who had just found a new playmate. The Duke watched her with a bittersweet smile, the scene resembling that of a brother and sister playing together.
With the affairs in the Demon Lord’s domain settled, the Duke of Saxony faced a mountain of responsibilities. Yet, due to certain circumstances, he couldn’t appear in public, leaving his duties to his proxy.
That proxy was none other than his eldest son, Dale.
Officially, the Duke was said to be engaged in some secretive task within his workshop, which meant Dale had to take his place on the “Ducal Throne.”
It wasn’t the Saxon Viscounty in the Demon Lord’s domain, but the Saxon Duchy that Dale now governed as the Duke’s representative.
Being the Duke’s proxy wasn’t just about ruling a single duchy. It also meant standing at the pinnacle of the Black Tower.
Thus, during the annual “Tower Trials,” Dale visited the Black Tower in Necropolis as the heir to the Black Tower’s master.
Meanwhile, the Duke, enjoying a rare break, spent most of his time as a playmate to his energetic daughter, Lise. As one of the continent’s greatest wizards, he also took the opportunity to teach her magic, a task he relished.