Chapter 555
Episode 145: Omen (24)
Octavia, now recovered, and the Phantom Legion fiercely pursued Jin and his group.
Valkas and the Sword Saints, assigned to the rear guard, were already utterly exhausted. Yet, fortunately, the path to the inner fortress was littered with Ron’s ashen sword energy.
Strangely, his sword energy never blocked their allies—it pressed only against the Phantom Legion, as if some divine being favored those under its protection.
Octavia’s incredible mobility was also blunted by the ashen energy, losing its edge. Thanks to this, Jin’s group advanced toward the inner fortress more smoothly than expected.
Not swiftly, but steadily. Above, the giants’ shockwaves exploded relentlessly, and the ground screamed as it cracked beneath every step.
The battle between Ron and Keliak intensified, shaking even the Sword Emperor’s fortress. Most of the fallout, however, was borne by Octavia and the Phantom Legion.
It was a strange formation: the Phantom Legion acted like an umbrella, shielding the retreating Jin group.
Octavia’s frustration boiled over. Since the ground battle began, she and the Phantom Legion had suffered more damage from Ron and Keliak’s fight than anyone else.
“Hedo said he seemed like someone the heavens cherished… and luck just keeps following him endlessly.”
“If the heavens cherish you, it’s because your father has become the heavens themselves.”
Just as Hedo told Jin in the Sota Desert, Octavia felt the same strange sense: Jin was unnaturally favored by fortune.
The giants’ battlefield dealt more damage to those with their backs to the sky—like themselves. Just as the battle began, timely reinforcements arrived in the form of Misha. And even now, strengthened by the demon stones, they still couldn’t finish the fight.
Again.
A wave of unease washed over her. A filthy premonition hammered into her mind: they wouldn’t be able to kill Jin’s group in the end.
Something else was bound to appear. Someone to help the cornered Jin group.
“Damn it…!”
Even without that someone, the fact that Valkas and the Sword Saints were still standing was horrifying.
Though the Black King Captain and the Sword Saints were formidable, they were no match for her and the Phantom Legion. Even if they endured the giants’ shockwaves, they should have been wiped out by now.
Especially the five Sword Saints.
They looked like corpses. Their faces were so gray they almost appeared blackened, and their retreating sword strikes lacked their former sharpness.
Yet they refused to die. Their chests pierced—surely that was the end. Their thighs impaled—surely their speed would slow. Their legs broken—surely they would fall.
But every expectation was missed again and again, beyond count.
With battered bodies, swinging swords almost flailing, how and why were they still holding the rear? Even against her and the Phantom Legion!
Among them, some Sword Saints’ consciousness flickered like a dying light, fading and returning every few seconds.
The inner fortress was drawing near.
After the demon stones spread, the Sword Emperor’s fortress had mostly lost its shape.
But the inner fortress remained almost as intact as at the start.
Amidst ruined buildings and shattered earth, the lone intact inner fortress radiated a solemn aura.
It felt like something precious to protect, even if the world crumbled.
But even Ron couldn’t stop Octavia from striking directly. If Jin’s group and the Phantom Legion entered the inner fortress now, it would fall too.
“We cannot let them pass, Ziphl…”
The Sword Saints halted their retreat before the inner fortress. Jin and his companions paused, turning to look at them.
No words were needed to understand.
They would buy the last moments of time. Check on Dante, and if possible—if at all possible—take him with them.
The Sword Saints’ backs spoke volumes. None of them could survive even with immediate treatment, they said.
Sacrifice—truly horrific.
“Yes, it’s the right choice… but it will hardly matter anymore.”
Octavia spoke in a low voice thick with hatred, pointing her staff at the Sword Saints alongside the Phantom Legion.
Indeed, the miracles the Sword Saints had wrought countless times would end here.
Jin turned and stepped toward the Sword Saints, drawing his summoned sword, Sigmund.
“My lord…!”
“Master!”
His comrades shared his resolve. None wished to advance by stepping over their fallen comrades.
But they had to be rational. This was surely something the Sword Saints didn’t want either. They must have felt Jin’s growing aura and wanted to shout for him to just leave.
So his comrades tried to stop him, but Jin wasn’t charging forward out of blind grief.
Would you still stand aside?
He was asking his own clan, Runcandel.
“No matter who comes from the clan, if I fight here wielding the Demon King’s Reign Sword, they will know it’s not only the Sword Saints who will die.”
It was a kind of threat—and as always,
Jin got what he wanted.
As Octavia and the Phantom Legion unleashed their magic on the Sword Saints, and Jin’s comrades prepared to drag him back by force,
a group of knights concealed in the gunfire stepped forward, blocking Jin and the Sword Saints.
Five Black Knights.
“Again… really, again…!”
Octavia gritted her teeth, glaring at the Black Knights.
-Do you think Runcandel would send me alone to save you, Octavia Ziphl?
-Definitely not. You’ve become too important to Runcandel now.
Just as Jin had spoken with her when they first met on the ground, Octavia had always suspected Runcandel’s support was coming.
Still, her shock now was born of sheer exasperation.
Every time, the situation tipped in Jin’s favor, and it made her blood boil.
Swish!
The knights’ swords sliced through Octavia and the Phantom Legion’s magic. They must have endured the giants’ power on their way here, yet showed no sign of fatigue.
In fact, their sword energy was stronger than any active Black Knight Jin had ever seen, instantly blocking the path before the inner fortress.
Jin’s comrades breathed easier, and only then did Jin ease his fighting spirit slightly.
He knew the Black Knights wouldn’t have intervened if he hadn’t shown genuine will to fight alongside the Sword Saints, not just pretended.
“Twelve Riders.”
Stam’s calm, heavy voice cut through the roar of battle without losing its weight.
Jin had never heard Stam’s voice or known his rank, but instinctively understood: this was the captain of Runcandel’s Black Knights.
“To think you’d draw me out like this—you always surprise your clan’s members.”
Stam’s sword rang out fiercely, pushing away other energies nearby. With his arrival, Octavia and the Phantom Legion had no choice but to shift from pursuit to battle.
“Stam… did Lady Rosa not come herself?”
Stam ignored Octavia, instead looking over Jin’s group. The Phantom Legion in front of them was no obstacle.
For several seconds, Stam’s gaze flicked between Jin’s group and the unbroken inner fortress. Finally, it rested on the gaunt, broken Sword Saints.
Before a Black Knight, but also as a warrior and a man,
he could only feel respect.
“Thanks to the Twelve Riders, I can pay my respects to you. Though unintended, it is an honor to aid your final moments.”
Though moved as a warrior and wishing to help as a man, the Black Knights’ primary duty was to their clan’s interests.
So stepping in now was hardly appropriate, but considering Jin’s injury or death, they had no choice.
“…Sir Stam, one day, Hailan will repay this debt. Even if a thousand years pass.”
Though the Black Knights had arrived, the Sword Saints’ deaths were inevitable.
Jin knew this well. He had dragged the clan in because it was necessary. Realistically, the Sword Saints alone couldn’t buy much more time.
Stam nodded and met Jin’s eyes.
“Go, Twelve Riders.”
No one asked Stam to give the Sword Saints a final farewell.
From the start of the ground battle, Jin and his comrades had been saying goodbye to the Sword Saints.
The fight itself was a long farewell.
Jin and his comrades took one last look at the Sword Saints’ backs, then turned toward the inner fortress.
Octavia could not capture those leaving.
“Earlier, you asked if Lady Rosa came herself, Octavia Ziphl.”
Stam leveled his sword and added,
“You should be grateful Lady Rosa sent me in her place.”
His voice, dripping with contempt, pierced Octavia’s very core.
Dante Hailan.
Amid the inner war waged against the white stone, he walked endlessly along a gray path stretching on forever.
How much time had passed? Why was he here? What was he resisting? These questions blurred in his mind.
Am I doing well…?
He clearly remembered the fierce battle he had fought—the intense struggle so overwhelming it defied description.
But now, there was calm.
The voice that had tempted him—the one he didn’t understand but knew he must never follow—was gone.
I’m doing well. And I’ve overcome it…
Suddenly, that thought surged like a horn inside him, and his steps grew lighter. He didn’t know what exactly he had defeated, but somehow, as he kept walking, he felt something good was waiting ahead.
After wandering through the gray wasteland for a while, Dante heard a new voice.
“Dante…!”
“Dante!”
Not the tempting voice he had to resist, but a completely different one—warm, familiar.
It was a friend’s voice.
“Jin!”
Dante broke into a wide smile and sprinted toward where Jin’s voice came from.
Before he could get too far, the voice grew louder, and suddenly, a lone door appeared standing on the gray ground.
He grasped the door handle firmly.
“But… is it really okay to open this and go through?”
A sudden, inexplicable unease crept into his heart, which was still pounding with joy.
“Dante!”
His friend’s urgent voice called out once more, and Dante stopped hesitating and flung the door wide open.
The moment he stepped through, the white stone looked at the wide-open door and thought:
Finally.
He can leave.