Chapter 253: The Flame of the Order (7)
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen a blue sky. Though it’s half-tinged with red.”
The deserted plaza of the main headquarters lay empty. The Pharaoh’s mask twirled its jeweled eyes.
“Red or blue, it’s a welcome sight all the same. It’s the first I’ve seen since entering the tomb.”
“You must have felt quite confined, sir.”
“Indeed. Three thousand years is no short time.”
Edgar chuckled softly. Lately, life had been full of unexpected amusements.
He had long known about the ruins of the Sandstorm Dynasty beneath the Order’s grounds. But he never imagined those ancient relics would awaken after millennia.
And not only awaken, but rise to fight alongside them against the dragon legion.
Chatting with a figure from three thousand years ago, with the dragon legion looming ahead, was a scene even he, the so-called Guide, hadn’t foreseen.
“Are you really going to fight here? What about the knights who follow you?”
“The Order doesn’t belong to me. They don’t follow me, nor should they.”
In response to the Pharaoh’s question, Edgar shook his head. He reached out, feeling for something familiar.
The familiar grip of his holy sword trembled in his hand.
“Unless you’re a god, no one can choose how they’re born.”
Edgar rose slowly, the Pharaoh’s mask following silently behind.
Behind them, an army of a thousand golden beetles stood ready. Over twenty towering statues loomed nearby.
“But fortunately, we can choose how we die.”
The range of the sacred barrier was rapidly shrinking.
The vast silver veil that once covered the entire headquarters and surrounding fortresses had dwindled to barely cover the main building.
Soon, the boundary retreated within the walls of the headquarters, reaching the central hall.
A soft hum resonated as the shimmering veil vanished inside the hall.
By then, the sky was entirely painted red, save for a single patch of blue.
“It’s starting now.”
“Indeed.”
“A war against hundreds of dragons. It’s an achievement I never imagined, even in my lifetime.”
The Pharaoh’s voice carried a hint of excitement. Edgar tilted his head back to gaze at the sky.
Though his clouded eyes couldn’t see, turning his head meant focusing his senses in that direction.
What he sensed were the myriad shadows flitting across the crimson sky.
The dragons were closing in fast, the sky filled with countless spells.
“I’ll handle the spells. You seem more adept with the sword.”
“Agreed. I’ll take care of the dragons that reach the plaza.”
With roles swiftly assigned, the beetles scattered, forming a defensive magic circle using themselves as catalysts.
Once the Pharaoh’s mask departed, Edgar raised his holy sword towards the approaching dragons.
They say that in the face of death, one’s life flashes before their eyes.
[The Old Knight of the Order!]
Clang─!
As Edgar deflected a dragon’s claw with a twist of his sword, memories flickered through his mind.
The first of anything tends to linger in memory.
His first sparring match.
His first official knighting ceremony.
The cave where he first slew a demon. The meeting where the former commander offered him the position of vice-commander.
And…
‘The first time I struck down a Blue Dragon.’
That was the last memory his eyes could recall.
The blood of knights flowing through the valley. The gruesome corpse of the former commander, who had served as a senior knight. The faint sunlight filtering through the rift. The breath of the Blue Dragon blowing in his face.
Though he felled the Blue Dragon, he paid the price with his eyes and an arm. A grievous wound for any swordsman.
Yet Edgar couldn’t give up.
For within his clouded eyes, the god of war he served began to show him a new vision.
It was then he earned two titles.
The One-Armed Sword Saint. And the Guide.
[The Old Knight of the Order―!]
A dragon’s roar echoed right in front of him. Edgar swiftly closed in, swinging his sword.
Crack─!
Scales shattered. Flesh split open.
Dragon blood gushed like water from a burst pipe, drenching the ground.
The first holy sword, passed down to the commander of the Order, possessed the power to nullify the regenerative abilities of evil beings.
[Roar!]
A scream erupted from the dragon’s throat. A gust of wind struck his face.
[――! ―――!]
Reciting a battle prayer, he deflected the spell. As Edgar prepared to charge again, he suddenly looked up.
Though his clouded eyes couldn’t see, his instincts warned him of the next attack.
Boom!
He quickly dodged to the side, evading the dragon’s snapping jaws. The edge of his armor was torn by the passing teeth.
Even a mere graze sent shockwaves through his body. Barely maintaining his balance, he pushed off with his toes.
His body soared, and he swung as he had countless times before.
The holy sword, wreathed in white flames, severed the neck of the dragon that had missed its bite. Blood, once gushing like a burst pipe, now flowed like a dam releasing its waters.
Even after slaying a dragon, energy surged through him. The divine tattoos etched across his body began to awaken one by one.
Edgar stepped forward to meet the next approaching wingbeat.
As he swallowed his labored breaths, the interrupted memories in his mind continued.
“When did it start?”
When did he begin tossing and turning in bed every night, plagued by unease?
After confronting the past, altering the present, and choosing his future, he ascended to the sixth rank.
He renounced all the power and pleasures available to a transcendent, deciding to fend off the demon hordes from the world’s fringes until his dying day.
But as the end drew near, Edgar realized. His sacrifices were meaningless in the face of a closed ending.
His struggle against the apocalypse was like trying to dam a river with a handful of sand. The helplessness and anxiety he felt upon realizing this were indescribable.
The conflicts he couldn’t voice due to his position as commander.
His long-standing unease ended when he met a certain warrior.
’…Dalen.’
A warrior noticed by the gods.
A human who caught the attention of both heaven and hell.
At first glance, he seemed unremarkable. He wasn’t a leader with hundreds of thousands under his command, nor a transcendent with his own domain.
But within months of their first meeting, Dalen had slain the great dragon Blue Dragon, which had long lurked within the rift.
In the years that followed, he swept across the continent, slaying demons and even striking directly at the avatar of the evil god.
Edgar was certain.
That warrior was the key to overcoming this apocalypse.
Both his prophetic eye and experience pointed to the same conclusion, so he welcomed the vision recently revealed to him.
‘This is where I die.’
In truth, Edgar had seen not one, but two visions.
The first was the one he shared with others: the vision of Dalen and his companions descending into the rift.
The second was of himself, staying behind at the headquarters, fighting the dragon legion alone, and dying a glorious death.
“Dragons! Behold the technology of the once-glorious Sandstorm Dynasty!”
[Ghosts of a fallen ancient civilization! This is not your desert!]
“Ghosts, you say? Most of you are centuries older than me! Curse of the beetles! Fists of the colossi!”
Boom! Crash!
Beyond his thoughts, the Pharaoh and the dragon exchanged words. Edgar chuckled, losing himself in the rhythm of his sword.
And so, Edgar decided to die.
His life, too, would ultimately end in a struggle against the apocalypse.
If his death could contribute even a little to the salvation of the continent, what more meaningful end could there be?
With an ancient king as his final companion, it wouldn’t be such a lonely death.
[――――!!]
Dragon speech.
The air trembled. It was a breath.
Edgar stepped forward. The movements ingrained in him for over a century flowed naturally.
The divine tattoos blazed with light. Each step left a trail of white footprints.
Roar────!
[No…!]
A graceful evasion of the dragon’s breath, culminating in a simple, decisive strike.
Another dragon’s head fell. Edgar’s dance was far from over.
His sword flashed, severing wings. Another flash, and flesh was torn away.
Toes. Tail feathers. Spinal ridges. Horns on foreheads.
Occasionally, a whole tail or foot would crash to the ground, and soon, heads were flying through the air.
A solitary dance of blades against dozens, no, hundreds of dragons. The flames on his sword scattered like droplets.
The white flames scattered across the vast plaza resembled embers burning on a grand altar.
Like primitive shamans of old, severing and gutting lizards on a wide stone slab.
A massive altar where severed and dismembered dragons were cast upon the smoldering white flames.
Thud.
The dragon corpses piled up. Edgar drew a ragged breath.
At first glance, it seemed like he was effortlessly cutting through the dragon horde. But in reality, he was slowly being worn down.
As time passed, his sword strikes grew sluggish. His once sharp senses dulled, and the subtle tremors in his muscles intensified.
Even the divine tattoos couldn’t shine forever. The endless flow of divine power had its limits when it came to what his body could endure.
”…Tsk.”
Maintaining the barrier for months had already taken a toll on him. Even at his best, victory was impossible, so holding out this long was an achievement in itself.
Swoosh!
In the moment he decapitated one dragon, he failed to notice another’s jaws closing in from his blind spot.
“Die, old monster!”
The roar erupted right in front of him. He could feel the gleaming teeth and gaping maw with his senses.
Facing a death that could swallow a carriage whole, Edgar closed his eyes gently.
He had bought enough time, hadn’t he?
Just as he thought that—
CRACK—BOOM!
A bolt of lightning struck.
His ears rang, and a tingling sensation coursed through his body.
The massive dragon that had been about to devour him collapsed with a thud. Its head was sent flying, and a gaping hole was blown through its chest where its heart had been.
Edgar opened his eyes and turned to look behind him with a hazy gaze.
It wasn’t hard to recognize the heavy footsteps approaching.
The warrior who had been lingering in his thoughts. The one destined to fulfill the prophecy Edgar had tried to burn himself out to achieve.
”…Dalen.”
“You lied to me.”
The warrior spoke, his voice tinged with mild irritation.
“Did you really think I’d let you have all this experience for yourself?”