Episode 38
The Demon Race and the Demon King.
These names, which sound like something out of a fairy tale, are merely labels given from a human perspective.
The term “Demon Race” (German) doesn’t refer to a specific species but is a general term for any monster with a certain level of intelligence.
Orcs, goblins, and even bizarre creatures whose names are unknown fall under this category.
And beyond the northern lands, known as the domain of the demons, lies the Dark Land, about which little is known.
When a hero, alongside the empire’s forces, defeated the being known as the “Demon King,” the people of the continent believed peace had finally been restored. However, the empire’s leaders realized that some of the demon race had merely migrated en masse to survive the harsh conditions of the Dark Land.
Their goal wasn’t some grand scheme to engulf the world in evil; it was simply survival.
Thus, even after the Demon King was defeated, the large-scale migrations of the demon race, known as the “Barbarian Invasions,” did not completely cease.
The news that a massive orc horde was moving south towards the Duchy of Saxon signaled the beginning of another such migration.
“Is another ‘Barbarian Invasion’ about to start?” Dale asked.
“It seems so,” the Duke of Saxon replied with a silent nod.
“This will be a battlefield on a scale we’ve never seen before.”
The most fearsome fighters are those who battle simply to survive. Dale understood the threat of the demon race better than anyone. Unlike the church’s claims, the demons had no grand ideology to spread evil across the world.
Fortunately, wars don’t erupt overnight.
“We’ll need allies,” Dale suggested.
“I’ve already summoned the northern lords, the Black Tower, and all the knightly orders under my command,” the Duke replied.
“Is there no other help?” Dale asked, and the Duke’s silence was an implicit confirmation. The empire and its rivals had no desire to spill blood in a war against the demons.
“It won’t be an easy fight,” the Duke continued.
“Perhaps it’s time I taught you how to use necromancy on the battlefield.”
“Charge!”
Led by Sir Bale of the Baskerville family, the Saxon cavalry shouted as they charged. Their lances fluttered in the wind as they galloped towards the pack of wolves.
Monsters and beasts alike pose a threat to human survival, and both must be eliminated for the peace of the land.
The knights, clad in armor, thrust their lances into the wolves, who fought back fiercely.
“As you can see, a lance charge like the Saxon knights isn’t suitable for you,” Dale said, observing the battle from a distant hill with his knight, Charlotte.
Charlotte’s small and delicate frame wasn’t suited for cavalry charges that required horsemanship and lance skills. The greatsword she wielded was more a testament to her unique ability to harness aura.
”…I understand,” Charlotte replied, her expression slightly downcast.
“However, as long as you can harness your aura, you can fight on par with a grown knight, even with a child’s body,” Dale reassured her.
“You must maximize your given talents.”
“My talents…” Charlotte murmured. Her talent with the sword was both a blessing and a curse, much like her aura abilities.
“I understand,” she nodded quietly. Aura and magic both draw from mana, and a knight’s sword, when mastered, carries its own philosophy, much like a wizard’s spell.
“Stand on your own two feet and focus on wielding the Saxon family’s black sword,” Dale instructed, referring to the family’s famed jet-black aura blade.
“You’ll gain plenty of real combat experience soon enough.”
As the cavalry and wolves’ battle drew to a close, Dale spoke again.
“Let’s find a sword style that suits you.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte replied, her cheeks flushing with a shy, girlish blush.
“I’ll train hard so I won’t be embarrassed in front of the ‘Black Prince’!”
Her determination was unwavering.
That afternoon, in the underground workshop of the Black Duke.
The first lesson in using necromancy on the battlefield began.
“What do you think is the difference between a Death Knight and a common undead soldier?” the Black Duke asked.
“A Death Knight is a knight, while an undead soldier is a footman,” Dale replied.
The Black Duke nodded. “And what distinguishes a knight from a footman?”
“The difference in their combat abilities,” Dale answered.
“That’s half correct,” the Duke said, shaking his head.
“Not everyone with great combat skills can become a knight.”
He gestured towards a corpse laid out on a table, the body of a Raven Knight who had pledged loyalty to the Saxon family in life and donated his body in death.
“Is it the presence of an aura blade?” Dale asked.
“Exactly,” the Black Duke confirmed, snapping his fingers. Dark magic enveloped the knight’s corpse, and the figure, clad in black armor and wielding a knight’s sword, rose.
“The higher the knight’s aura mastery in life…”
The Death Knight, reborn with an immortal body, exuded the aura it had honed as a Raven Knight.
The blade it wielded was wrapped in the Saxon family’s signature black aura.
“And the better the compatibility between aura and magic, the stronger the Death Knight,” the Black Duke explained.
Dale was struck by the revelation as if hit by a hammer.
The reason the Saxon family’s Raven Knights wielded black aura blades was due to their compatibility with the Black Tower’s necromancers’ dark magic.
Dark magic, dark aura.
In other words, the Raven Knights had always prepared their swords with the intention of being reborn as Death Knights.
“Remember, they are knights of pride, both in life and in death,” the Black Duke said, looking at the Death Knight he had resurrected, its black aura blade gleaming.
“Follow me,” he commanded after a moment of silence, leading the way across the workshop with the Death Knight in tow.
“I have something to show you.”
With a weight unlike anything before.
“Yes, Father,” Dale replied.
They reached a place where Dale had once obtained a dark artifact.
The Black Duke’s underground workshop. But he didn’t stop there. He continued deeper, into the shadows below, without a word.
‘Where are we going?’ Dale wondered, following in silence.
“Do you know about Frederick, the Immortal Duke, the founder of the Saxon family?” the Duke asked as they walked. Dale thought of the “Book of the Black Goat” rooted in his heart, and the girl with the black goat’s horns waiting for him in the abyss of thought.
“I’ve read about him in books and heard stories from you,” Dale replied, feigning ignorance.
“He was a monster of truth,” the Duke said, a demon who wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice his own daughter in his blind pursuit of the truth beyond the veil of death.
“And what I’m about to show you…”
They stopped.
“Is the ‘ancient darkness’ he sought, a debt our Saxon family still owes.”
They stood before the entrance to a vast underground chamber. The walls seemed alive with darkness, a high-level barrier beyond Dale’s imagination.
“Only those of Saxon blood can pass through here,” the Duke said, stepping into the darkness. Dale followed without hesitation.
Whoosh!
The powerful dark barrier parted for the two Saxon men, acknowledging their undeniable blood bond. What lay beyond took Dale’s breath away.
There were immortal knights.
In a massive tomb reminiscent of a pyramid or an imperial mausoleum, like the Terracotta Army of the First Emperor…
Not just one. Not two, three, ten, or even a hundred.
Thousands, by rough estimate.
“What is this…?” Dale couldn’t hide his shock.
A “Death Army” of thousands of Death Knights lay dormant there.
More than the combined knightly forces of an entire nation, complete with immortal warhorses.
But soon, Dale realized these immortal knights weren’t asleep. They were merely silent, waiting for orders.
…Whose orders?
The thought sent a chill down Dale’s spine.
“Long ago, Master Bulsagong discovered a way to animate the dead without the need for continuous magical energy…”
The Duke of Sachsen continued, his voice steady and unyielding.
“The heads of the Sachsen family began to cultivate an army of the dead, known as the ‘Death Order,’ through the generations.”
The Death Order. A brotherhood of fallen knights.
It was only then that Dale truly grasped the gravity of it all.
“I am no exception.”
The reason the Sachsen family clung so fiercely to their isolationist stance. And why the Black Duke placed such a heavy emphasis on ‘morality’ in wielding the powers of darkness.
“This is our darkness.”
It was hypocrisy so vile it was almost nauseating.
“And yet, this darkness is also our shield.”
A shield against enemies from without, and from within.
The death knight, just raised by the Black Duke, stepped forward to join the ranks of the Death Order. Dale recognized the knight. He had fought valiantly in the black-and-white battle, only to fall in the left flank, defending Dale.
Another knight had joined the Death Order.
Capable of wielding an aura blade, yet requiring no continuous magical energy—a perpetual force in motion.
How was it possible? Even Dale, with all his knowledge, couldn’t begin to fathom it.
“Are you prepared to embrace this darkness?”
The Duke of Sachsen asked calmly. At that moment, Dale’s heart began to pound fiercely.
Three mana circles, and the ‘ebony tendrils’ that gripped Dale’s heart, writhed.
”…”
Ignoring the throbbing in his chest, Dale nodded silently.
“I was prepared from the start.”
There was no room for hesitation. No matter how corrupt or evil the power might be.