Episode 47
Lady Elizabeth of the Imperial Capital was an exceptionally fortunate woman.
Not just anyone, but the infamous Blood Marquis, Eurys, had secretly invited her!
One of the Empire’s five heroes, alongside the otherworldly warrior and the holy knight, and renowned as the most handsome man in the Empire. Few women would refuse such a man’s courtship.
The Marquis of Eurys was the very embodiment of the prince on a white horse that all the ladies of the capital dreamed of.
In a state of bliss as if a prince had come to greet her on a white steed, Elizabeth accepted the clandestine meeting with the Marquis without hesitation.
In the deep, starless dawn, alone and unseen.
The wind howled.
In the bone-chilling cold, Dale moved forward.
Gripping the Black Sword of Saxon, he left behind the silent death knights standing in his wake.
This was a duel, a one-on-one battle between them. It was, in essence, the final confrontation that would conclude this war.
“Graaaah!”
The Orc Warboss roared, stomping the ground.
Swoosh!
The double-headed axe in his hand swung, scattering blood and brain matter in all directions.
‘It combines weight and speed.’
Incredibly powerful and unbelievably fast. Strength built solely on the warrior’s natural physique, without relying on magic or aura.
Dale easily manipulated the icy air to form a shield of ice.
Clang!
The axe shattered his ice wall, and in an instant, it exploded with a sharp crack.
Shard Magnum. Yet, even as the ice shards whirled like blades, the Orc Warboss showed no hesitation.
’…!’
The ice magic failed to slow him down, and the distance closed rapidly.
An audacity beyond Dale’s expectations.
He quickly lowered his stance, weaving past the Orc Warboss, slipping into the axe’s range to evade and strike at an opening.
The razor-sharp axe blade narrowly missed Dale’s body, leaving a thin line of blood on his cheek.
Shadow blades orbiting around Dale surged toward the Orc Warboss. Without moving a finger, he unleashed a dark blade from within his grasp. The shadow blades shattered like glass, scattering in all directions.
They transformed into meticulously crafted ‘shadow bullets.’ The scattered bullets fired simultaneously.
It could be called a combination of sword and magic, or perhaps sword and gun.
The two attacks flowed seamlessly together, and the living malice of darkness struck the Orc Warboss.
Swoosh!
The dark blade tore through his flesh, and the shadow bullets embedded themselves in the wounds.
‘It worked.’
Despite the blood flowing freely, the Orc Warboss roared again.
It was no ordinary roar. It was a cry filled with the determination and pride of a warrior who refused to kneel until the very end.
“Kieeeek!”
The earth-shattering roar sent the ‘shadows’ writhing within the Orc Warboss into a frenzy. Terrified, they fled back to Dale’s ‘shadow cloak.’
Dale clicked his tongue, leaving the cowering shadows beneath his feet behind.
The Orc Warboss had no reason left.
Berserk.
‘It’s come to this.’
The Orc Warboss charged, burning his life force. Each swing of the axe carried the sensation of a life extinguishing in flames.
‘Fast.’
Swinging, swinging, and swinging again. Dale narrowly dodged the relentless attacks, focusing his mind.
Leaving behind the shadows cowering in fear beneath his feet, he began to accelerate the three circles endlessly.
300rpm, 1,000rpm, 2,000rpm… like the rapid revving of a motorcycle engine.
Moreover, Dale’s ‘source of power’ was not limited to that.
Tendrils rooted deeply between his heart and the circles. Another source of darkness Dale possessed.
The ‘Book of the Black Goat.’
Dark magic refined and processed from two ‘black sources.’
The absurdly high concentration of black magic Dale had crafted with all his might seeped into the terrified shadow cloak.
He recalled the abilities of the shadow cloak shown by the high-ranking demon he had once defeated, the artifact’s owner. The shadows writhing beneath his feet were no mere minnows.
‘It’s still not enough.’
Dale steeled himself, directing his resolve at the weak shadows writhing beneath him. He whipped the dark magic into a frenzy.
‘It must be more ruthless, more malevolent, more terrifying.’
To show the true reason Dale had donned the dark artifact, the ‘shadow cloak,’ without hesitation that day.
It was then.
─ Shall I help you?
A voice whispered from Dale’s heart.
It was a girl’s voice.
‘It’s not your time yet.’
Dale shook his head, recalling the tendrils writhing beneath her dress.
Relying on her power in front of the Black Duke, Sir Helmut, and everyone in the North was too great a risk.
’…!’
At Dale’s refusal, he felt the tendrils tighten around his heart. Of all times. Imagining the worst-case scenario where she might go berserk, Dale steeled himself.
It was then.
─ I like your world, brother.
The ‘Book of the Black Goat’ responded.
─ I’ll never do anything you dislike.
As if to reassure him.
─ So, play with me to your heart’s content.
With a voice both innocently cruel and yet pure as a child’s.
Whoosh!
“Kieeeek!”
At that moment, the shadows beneath his feet began to scream.
It wasn’t the warrior’s roar filled with determination like the Orc Warboss’s.
It was simply the most horrifying scream in the world.
Swoosh!
Simultaneously, the shadows beneath Dale’s feet began to spread. And it was no mere ‘shadow.’
It was a wave of darkness engulfing the area like a flood, spreading beneath Dale and the Orc Warboss.
Gasps echoed from all around.
“Your Grace…!”
“What on earth is that!”
Even the Duke of Saxon and Sir Helmut were not exceptions. For everyone else, the shock of witnessing Dale’s display was beyond words.
Even the elders of the Black Tower were not exempt.
On the rippling lake of darkness, the Orc Warboss stomped the ground. But Dale remained unmoved, watching his opponent’s charge. He was aware of the ‘domain of darkness’ beneath his feet.
‘This is my domain.’
He swung his hand.
Swoosh!
From beneath the dark lake, the ‘lurker’ began to rise in silence.
Breaking through the gently rippling waves of shadow.
Something emerged.
It wasn’t in the form of a sword, magic, or bullets. It was simply sharp, pointed tendrils like thorns.
《Shadow Lurker》.
A shadow lurker. A creature of darkness lurking in the shadows, preying on its target.
And the dark lake Dale had created was the ‘habitat of the shadow lurkers.’
The ability of the shadow cloak, its third form. Shadow creatures.
Countless thorny tendrils from the ‘shadow lurkers’ pierced toward the Orc Warboss. As if effortlessly sinking a fork into a tender steak, they penetrated the Orc Warboss’s flesh, far surpassing steel armor.
“Graaaah-!”
There was no escape for the Orc Warboss. No movement was allowed. No matter how much he struggled and thrashed, he couldn’t escape the thorny tendrils of the shadow lurkers rising from all sides.
Right here, on the dark lake.
Crunch! Crunch!
The shadow tendrils pierced endlessly. In desperation, the double-headed axe swung toward Dale.
Even as the axe blade swung right in front of him, Dale remained still and silent.
With the axe blade inches from his face, the shadow tendrils rose again, binding the Orc Warboss’s arms. They bound his arms, legs, torso, and shoulders. And then, they drove the sharp thorny tendrils in.
Like a grotesque sculpture, countless tendrils tore and gripped the Orc Warboss.
Green blood splattered everywhere.
The thorny tendrils of the shadow lurkers burrowed into the torn wounds, intestines spilling out.
Dale gazed at the Orc Warboss with an expression devoid of emotion.
The roar had long since ceased. Only a hollow sound, like air escaping, echoed.
The Orc Warboss looked at Dale, powerless.
The Great Demon Migration.
To survive, he led his people out of the Demon King’s territory, over the white mountain range… and finally, here, at the upper reaches of the Saxon River, his struggle for survival came to an end. Together with his kin.
The journey’s end.
The orc horde wasn’t defeated because they were evil, but simply because they lacked strength.
Survival doesn’t make one strong. From the start, the weak have no chance of survival.
Survival of the fittest. That’s the law of this world.
Long ago, the Demon King, the Holy Sword, and even his past self perished because they lacked power. The orc warboss was no exception.
He turned away, leaving behind an indescribable bitterness.
Amidst the scattered bodies of the orc horde, countless northern warriors stood, their eyes fixed on Dale.
The northern nobles and knights who had witnessed the battle, along with the people of the Saxon family.
Silence stretched on.
In the overwhelming display of power Dale had shown, no one dared to make a sound.
Clang!
Just then, Dale’s death knights, who had just slaughtered the elite orc soldiers, all knelt in unison, driving their black swords vertically into the ground.
Thud!
At the same moment, the surrounding nobles and knights began to kneel one after another, similarly planting their swords into the earth.
“The prince has defeated the orc warboss!”
“Victory belongs to the Black Prince!”
“Prince Dale has triumphed!”
“Waahhh!”
As if the previous silence had been a lie, a deafening roar of victory erupted, threatening to split the air.
The infamous and feared name of the “Black Prince” was now layered with newfound reverence.
The guardian of the north who had vanquished the leader of the orc horde in the face of the demon migration, and the rightful heir to the Saxon duchy.
Thus, the battle came to an end.