Episode 244
A formation so vast it defied description, with two wings and a single body.
The two mightiest armies in the world clashed.
Ordinary soldiers collided, and blood sprayed. Knights clashed, and bones and entrails scattered. Wizards unleashed spells that took on myriad forms, swirling through the air.
Screeeech!
A chilling dissonance echoed across the battlefield. It was the discordant magic of the blue wizards, a barrier cast by the sorcerers of the Blue Council.
The sky was filled with this cacophony, and a searing red flame descended, burning everything in its path. Yet, the flames soon dissipated into fleeting particles of magic.
Even so, the blue barrier alone was not enough to fend off the red flames and the white hymn spells.
Amidst the endless screams, the black undead rose, adding to the chaos.
Blue and black, red and white, the towers of magic clashed, each serving their own colors of shadow and gold.
In the white and dark winter night, the largest war in the world unfolded.
Countless otherworldly realms layered over the battlefield.
The worlds of thought, each conjured by the powerful beings participating in the war.
Worlds collided, and new worlds layered over them, clashing again.
Countless forms of worlds fused and merged, until the battlefield was enveloped by a single world.
Hell.
A twisted otherworldly realm that defied description, consuming everything in its path.
And within this realm, soldiers clashed endlessly.
Like warriors from myth, fighting until the end of the world.
“Burn, burn, burn…!”
The elite purifiers of the Red Tower reveled in the flames of hellfire, caring not for friend or foe, incinerating all who came near.
Through these flames, figures charged forward. It was the duty of the strong to face the strong.
In this, the elite of the Night Raven Knights, known as the Grave Guard, were more than capable.
They charged through the swirling hellfire, cloaked in black avatars.
The distance closed rapidly, and the aria of the White Tower rose to protect the elite purifiers.
The chilling blue dissonance joined in almost simultaneously.
Boom!
The avatars of the Night Raven Knights appeared, and the guardians of the grave charged with transcendent power.
Each one, a death knight in black armor, yet none among them were truly undead. This was the armor of thought and form that defined the Grave Guard.
Knights who swore loyalty to the House of Saxon, in life and in death.
They clashed with the elite purifiers of the Red Tower, and fire and darkness collided.
Hellfire-wreathed purifiers, the endless white aria, and the Night Raven Knights in the guise of the undead, with the blue dissonance.
Fire and death, harmony and discord clashed.
“Ah, how beautiful it is.”
She was there too.
Lady Scarlet, the Red Witch and ruler of the Red Tower, a Blood Elf.
“The fate of moths drawn to the flame.”
She waved her arm, and with a flap of her bat-like wings, one of the elite purifiers exploded.
As the blood scattered, it coalesced into a giant of blood.
Blood Golem.
The golem army, formed of blood, appeared and blocked the path of the Grave Guard of the House of Saxon.
Boom!
The blood golem’s crimson fist slammed down. It wasn’t just targeting a single Night Raven Knight.
“Aaaah!”
The elite purifiers of the Red Tower, facing them, were not exempt from the giant’s blow.
The bodies of the purifiers crumpled like paper, blood spraying. The guardians of the grave, however, quickly retreated, minimizing their losses.
“Oh my, what a mess.”
It was a ruthless strike, indifferent to friend or foe. A blatant misfire.
Yet Lady Scarlet merely shrugged and smiled.
The blood golems took it upon themselves to break through the lines, crushing everything in their path.
Even now, breakthroughs and defenses crisscrossed the battlefield. How many forces broke through or defended against the enemy lines would be no trivial matter once this battle ended.
But the outcome of this battle was not for the soldiers or knights to decide. Not even the wizards.
It was the domain of the truly powerful, those who could turn the tide with a mere gesture, even against the entire infantry.
“Oh my.”
A blade’s petal flew through the air. A flower of the sword, imbued with the scent of plum blossoms and a sharp edge.
Lady Scarlet raised a shield of blood against the scattering petals, laughing as if she were enjoying herself.
A female knight stood there.
“To think I’d see Lady Lancaster here.”
Charlotte of Saxon, known as the Celestial Sword, and the Duchess of Lancaster stood there.
Clad in the white armor symbolizing the Rose Cross Knights of the House of Lancaster.
Her armor bore the red and white rose, alongside the symbol of death from the House of Saxon, the Night Raven.
Charlotte did not respond. She merely adjusted her grip on her sword.
In this otherworldly realm where worlds twisted and tangled, her own world clearly rejected intrusion.
The petals of the sword scattered, and she began to cut down the towering giants of blood.
“Won’t your beloved be saddened?”
”…”
“Imagining his beautiful and lovely wife, bloodied and unrecognizable on the battlefield… it pains me so.”
Lady Scarlet sneered coldly at Charlotte, who scattered the plum petals. Charlotte did not hesitate.
With a swift leap, the knight of the plum blossoms charged. Lady Scarlet unfurled her bat wings and soared.
Their blades narrowly missed each other, and Lady Scarlet spun in the air, diving back.
Blood claws shot out like blades, aiming to tear Charlotte’s body apart.
Clang!
Flower and blood collided.
“You shall not pass!”
Sir Helmut Blackbear roared.
His armor shattered, his body battered, yet he stood firm, refusing to kneel.
“Such futile resistance.”
The continent’s greatest red wizard sneered coldly, projecting the endless history of blood upon his body.
Even Sir Helmut, leader of the Night Raven Knights and one of the continent’s Seven Swords, could not hope to match this formidable foe.
Despite the fierce and desperate resistance, the Blood Duke’s expression remained serene.
“I cannot let you pass…!”
Yet Sir Helmut did not kneel before the man.
He knew the weight of allowing this path to open, the consequences of his failure.
A knight’s duty is to protect his lord. And now, there was no question who his lord was.
“Ah, is that so? Then you must die.”
The Blood Duke sneered, snapping his fingers.
Once more, history unfolded beneath his feet. Figures from history emerged, and Sir Helmut readied his sword once more.
“Stand down, Sir Helmut.”
”…!”
It was then that a voice called out. Alan of Saxon, his former lord.
“But, my lord!”
“Facing this man is not your role.”
“Ah, you have finally arrived.”
The man once known as the Black Duke stood there. The Blood Duke smiled as if he had been waiting.
“I no longer know what to call you, Black Duke.”
”…”
“You stepped down from the pinnacle of the Black Tower, stripped of your titles as Duke of Saxon and the continent’s greatest black wizard. What should I call the pitiful man you are now?”
The Blood Duke sneered, and Alan remained silent. But the silence did not last.
“The dead have no words.”
At last, the Black Duke spoke. Beside him, ‘Death’ struck the ground with a staff. Six black wings unfurled.
“We shall see who the dead will be.”
The Blood Duke laughed as if it were someone else’s affair, adjusting his blood tome.
History and death clashed.
It was a white and dark winter night.
In that winter night, the Duke of Saxon watched the endless clashes on the battlefield.
Where ordinary soldiers and knights, and the strong and the stronger, and the strongest of the strong clashed.
In the silence, the Lord of Shadows finally rose, gazing down at the battlefield below.
The time had come.
He accelerated his circle, extending his arm. Darkness and cold spread from beneath his feet, and he walked forward with a calm, steady pace.
“Shub.”
“Yes.”
At Dale’s words, the ancient Mother of Darkness smiled as if she had been waiting. With that smile, Dale reached out his arm.
On that winter night, where worlds intertwined, a single world began to envelop them all.
A world filled with pitch-black darkness.
“Dark Young.”
— Run wild, my children.
The ancient Mother of Darkness whispered, and the Lord of Shadows began to walk silently.
He moved alone, unperturbed, toward the battlefield that stretched beyond the horizon.
At the same time, there were those who watched from above, beyond the torn heavens.
Like curious gods from another realm, blinking as if peering through a magnifying glass at insects.
Between the rifts in the winter night sky, the dark lambs were finally unleashed.
Beings beyond the comprehension of this world’s logic and norms.
A piercing wail tore through the heavens, and from within that cry, the children of another realm began to extend their tendrils.
The winter night’s sky was ripped apart, and an endless number of tendrils poured forth from the beyond.
It was as if witnessing the end of the world, a madness spreading like a plague.
It truly felt like the end of the world.
And amidst that hell, the Shadow Lord finally rose.
Behind him, an uncountable army of the dead followed.
Above, the tendrils of the dark young lambs spread, enough to cover the entire land.
The night of the great massacre had begun.