Chapter 552
Episode 145: Omen (21)
Octavia had believed that even if Rosa herself led the Black Knights into battle, she would never be defeated.
It was shocking enough to imagine losing to them—but to think this was the result of fighting Jin and his group? And not even due to carelessness.
She had unleashed the very best magic she could muster, yet it still wasn’t enough to withstand the karmic flames wielded by Jin and Misha.
But it wasn’t over yet.
She wanted to shout that and rise again, but her shattered body only convulsed in pain.
“The captain has regained consciousness!”
“Captain, your orders…!”
The spectral soldiers guarding her shouted urgently.
The clash between Jin and Misha’s karmic flames and Octavia’s arcane barrier had pushed the battle on the ground to a fever pitch.
Both sides were desperately drawing on their remaining strength the moment Octavia fell. The spectral corps had to block the warriors trying to seize the opportunity, while Jin’s group had to finish Octavia off at all costs.
Everyone was certain that if they didn’t completely sever Octavia’s lifeline now, there would be no next chance. They had to secure victory while the spectral corps was too busy protecting her to mount a proper offense.
The spectral corps had lost three members and six more were too injured to fight. Meanwhile, the Balmur Alliance was wounded across the board but had suffered no fatalities.
This was thanks to Runcandel’s magic sword shattering Ziphl’s spells. Of course, this would have been impossible if Jin had been alone.
But Misha, like Octavia, had poured everything she had into the fight.
As the battle dragged on, Misha was unable to fight. She had reverted to human form to lessen the shock of the fight’s aftermath, but even that left her breathless and struggling.
“Misha, are you alright?”
Jin was a bit tired but still capable. Misha nodded faintly, offering a weak smile.
“I thought it would vanish without a trace, but I must have underestimated it.”
“I was lacking.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just another monster…”
Coughing out a darkened spiritual energy, Misha glared toward the rear of the spectral corps.
She had expected that Jin’s karmic flames, unleashed with all his might, would surely kill Octavia.
“Be careful, Jin. Octavia Ziphl… she’ll probably get back up.”
Jin had the same uneasy feeling.
She’d lost an eye, was suffering severe reflux symptoms, and her body was shattered—but Octavia didn’t seem finished yet.
New pools of radiant magic began gathering near the fallen Octavia. The glowing energies clung to her body, healing her wounds.
The spectral corps waited for Octavia’s command.
They still had a choice: to retreat or to keep fighting.
On the other hand, the Sword Emperor faction had no choice—they had nowhere to fall back to.
If the spectral corps had judged Octavia completely incapacitated, they would have already retreated with her.
Octavia slowly rose to her feet. Though unsteady and on the verge of collapse, the light magic held her upright.
“No retreat. The battle continues.”
At her command, the spectral corps’ magic grew more aggressive.
Misha slipped back to the rear lines, hiding behind Murakan’s veil, while the remaining warriors reformed their ranks around Jin.
There were now twenty fighters in the spectral corps able to fight. But with Octavia recovering, Jin’s group faced an even tougher battle than before.
“You’re as stubborn as I am, Octavia Ziphl.”
The embers of Bradamante’s karmic flames still flickered faintly. Jin released the remaining magic to rekindle the blaze.
It seemed to signal something. As the sword burst into flames, both Jin’s group and the spectral corps lunged at each other with swords and staves.
Everyone was exhausted and wounded. No one on the battlefield could fight at full strength.
That’s why their battle had devolved into something closer to raw survival—a brutal, primitive brawl, a chaotic melee.
Wizards stabbed by swords and knights struck by magic didn’t scream—they howled like beasts.
Jin and the Sword Emperors’ brute strength stood out especially.
In such a pure fight, it was only natural that Runcandel’s sword and the Paewang Sword forged by Hailan shone brightest.
Desperately, Jin pressed forward toward Octavia. Bradamante, stained black and blue, clashed against magic and shields with every swing. The backlash made blood surge in his throat, but he didn’t stop.
Stopping meant the end. He was already deep in enemy lines; to fall or hesitate here meant death.
His comrades who followed him into the fray faced the same fate.
It was like crossing a sea you could never turn back from. To stop before reaching the other side meant only cold death.
Every moment held the risk of death or crippling injury.
Yet not a single warrior showed fear. They all kept their eyes on Jin’s back, pushing away enemies flying into his blind spots, trusting him as they advanced.
“Why won’t the twelve knights fall…?!”
“Damn it, how does the captain still have strength after being reduced to that state?!”
The Ziphl mages could never understand Jin Runcandel.
How did he keep pulling off these miracles? Why, despite their clear advantage, were they losing? What was this power?
When had he become such a colossal threat…?
Even as they unleashed their most powerful spells, Jin’s breakthrough speed showed no sign of slowing.
This time he’d stop, this time he’d retreat a step, this time he’d fall…!
Every prediction missed the mark. Once, a chain spell from the spectral corps struck Jin’s chest dead center, yet he seemed completely unfazed.
The chain spell seemed to pass right through the ghost.
Wait—pass through a ghost?
Damn it!
At that moment, the spectral corps realized a horrifying truth.
They’d been tricked once again by the Black Dragon Misha.
From the middle of the breakthrough, the spectral corps had been attacking not the real Jin, but an illusion crafted from spiritual energy—the last image Misha created before retreating to the rear.
Unlike a spirit puppet, the illusion had no physical force, but it was enough to deceive enemies who’d lost their composure.
“Do we really have enough energy to waste on an illusion? I don’t think so.”
Jin said as he stabbed his sword into a spectral soldier’s abdomen.
He had slipped among the Sword Emperors while the enemy’s attacks focused on the illusion. The soldier he killed had been guarding right in front of Octavia.
By then, Octavia was considerably more aggressive, steadying herself. But it was only an improvement from immediately after the karmic flames—she still wasn’t fit to fight.
“Stop him!”
A beam of magic shot through the fallen spectral soldiers. Jin barely turned his head, and the beam grazed his cheek.
He had no time to dodge the next attack, but Sword Emperor Luyan stepped forward with unbelievable speed to shield him.
Luyan’s wrist looked as thin as a dry twig—unbelievable for a warrior who had trained all her life.
The other Sword Emperors trailing behind her were all similarly gaunt, masters of the Paewang Sword.
But the thinner they grew, the sharper their blades became—like a flame blooming just before it dies out.
There was no time to exchange thanks or glances. Jin pushed deeper into the enemy ranks, leaving the warriors behind.
“Octavia Ziphl!”
Flames and spiritual energy wrapped Bradamante in a dark blaze. Octavia dodged Jin’s rushing sword with backward steps.
For someone of her caliber, retreating so clumsily in battle was unheard of.
Even a mage had to master basic martial arts to face warriors, and she had never once retreated when facing opponents clearly superior to Jin.
This was a move only seen in amateurs, but Octavia had no choice.
“If only I had one more minute to recover…!”
Still, Jin couldn’t cut her down as she fled recklessly.
The spectral corps was the spectral corps. Though the Sword Emperors and comrades risked their lives pushing them back, they hadn’t completely broken the last line of defense.
If Octavia were unharmed, they wouldn’t have made it this far.
The wind from a blade brushing past her nose sent a cold sweat over Octavia’s body.
“Fifty-five seconds left… fifty-four… damn it!”
The time felt unbearably long.
Her subordinates wouldn’t be able to protect her fully within that time. It wasn’t because the spectral corps lacked ability.
It wasn’t a matter of strength, skill, or luck—it was simply that Jin was extraordinary.
Amidst the hail of sword strikes and magic, Jin thought of only one thing, as always.
To cut.
Before learning the full set of spiritual swords from his brothers, he had already grasped the essence of the magic sword.
He was armed with an unyielding will to cut through.
That will carried him through the spectral corps’ encirclement and once again reached Octavia.
The moment the black-blue blade swung upward, poised to strike her down, Octavia was forced to confront a vast, dark emotion she had long buried.
Fear.
The fear that she would surely die if this continued.
“Gah, aah!”
“Ugh!”
As the sword came crashing down, both Octavia and Jin screamed in unison.
A spectral beam of magic struck Jin’s back. His spirit armor absorbed the blow, but the impact left his vision momentarily white, and as a result, Bradamante couldn’t slice through Octavia.
Screech—!
Jin’s severed limb was none other than Octavia’s own staff and the right hand gripping it, extended instinctively.
The black-blue flames clung to the cut surface, blocking any chance of healing, and the severed hand instantly turned to ash, scattering in the wind.
Pushing further was impossible.
‘I need to regroup with my allies and wait for another chance. Octavia’s recovery will be slow anyway, so we still have a shot…!’
If he pressed on, his comrades would surely die, even if he survived. Jin retreated, looking down at the fallen Octavia.
“You used to say you feared nothing in this world. How about now, Octavia Ziphl? Does that arrogant heart of yours still beat the same?”
In all her life, Octavia had only ever faced one moment more humiliating and disgraceful than this—the day she confronted Siron.
Whether it was because of the Black Dragon Misha’s intervention, the unexpected resilience of the Sword Saint and their comrades, or Jin’s unique abilities—
For whatever reason, Octavia had effectively lost the battle on this land. Despite holding absolute superiority, she had been utterly defeated. Even she had to admit it.
“This fight is yours, Jin Runcandel.”
“It’s not over until I cut you down. And I’d appreciate it if you corrected that to a victory for the Balmel Alliance and the Sword Emperor’s faction. You won’t be able to do that once you’re dead…”
Just as he finished speaking—
Suddenly, Jin sensed a dreadful energy rising from the heavens, a terrible force he had only ever felt once before, long ago. His comrades felt it too, the same ominous presence.
Octavia spoke in a calm, detached voice.
“But my defeat does not necessarily mean Ziphl’s defeat… That must be disappointing for you all.”
What the group was sensing was the energy of the Demon God Stone, now fully unleashed.