Ch.156Miracle (3)

A light rose like a star amidst the breaking dawn.

Lucilla looked up at that light. It was clearly not a good sign.

She found herself thinking of her sister, whom she had unconsciously tried not to think about.

How difficult must it have been, falling into a world like this?

In her heart, she wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to do anything, but she couldn’t.

She tended not to force anything on her sister, and like her sister Yoon Sejin, she was rather timid.

The thought of pushing too hard and being hated made it impossible for her to force anything.

But that didn’t mean she could just leave things be. Lucilla wished she could erase everything with the “Death of the Star” and go find her sister.

Her black and white eyes swept across the empty space. Her pupils, emitting a white radiance, gleamed with killing intent, and her blackened whites smoldered with magical energy.

In the direction of her gaze stood a man.

Once a general who carried himself with dignity befitting his position, wielding unrivaled power within the Empire.

Now he had just lost an entire arm. The amount of blood flowing was alarming, yet he couldn’t even stop the bleeding.

The mangled body of a mage who had been about to cast something on him for recovery lay right beside him—a corpse with an axe embedded in its head and eyes rolled back.

It was a pitiful sight, unable to even lie down, merely kneeling on the ground.

And it wasn’t just that mage. Corpses filled the surroundings.

Severed necks, skulls crushed by maces, hearts pierced by spears.

It was truly a mountain of death.

They had lured her out of the Temple of All Gods to prevent her from joining forces with others and to hunt her down, but the battle had clearly not gone in their favor.

Rather, they had thought they held the advantageous battlefield.

Though not far from the Temple of All Gods, it was meant to seal off the “Death of the Star.”

It had certainly been advantageous.

They had formed a formation—one that gave allies vitality, exceptional strength, and minor regenerative abilities while having the opposite effect on enemies.

They had fired volleys of arrows with hunters, mercenaries, and soldiers prepared in advance.

Prepared warriors rushed in through the gaps, and powerful fighters including the general had tied down Lucilla.

This was the result.

Despite anticipating it, they couldn’t counter her.

Tying her down was the most they could do.

It was absurd that this too was one of the expected outcomes.

The general raised his head with a face pale from blood loss.

And he saw the beautiful woman standing there, looking unreal.

Her hands were covered in blood.

Blood had splattered onto her cheeks, and the white garment wrapped around her body was soaked in it.

None of it was her own.

Not a single effective hit had landed on her. That was inevitable.

Crackle!

The ground she stood on—specifically, the bricks forming the road—was melting. Around her lay not only corpses but countless arrows and weapons.

The dead all looked similar. Holes pierced through chests and weapons embedded in heads all appeared to have been melted through by extreme heat.

Thus, most had horribly contorted faces and clean wounds. Unlike the general’s right arm.

For good reason. The general’s right arm had been severed by his own sword strike, somehow returned to him by unknown means.

The general smiled, a fading smile that was nearly extinguished.

Abnormal Transformation, Heart of the Star.

The effect was simple. Pouring all the firepower that could be used for the Death of the Star entirely into one’s body.

Naturally, the effect was intuitive. Everything she touched melted, and any weapon she held transformed into a weapon boasting extraordinary cutting power and extreme heat.

Even when using blunt weapons, the effect was less pronounced, but with her technique and strength combined, even a thrust could pierce holes through bodies.

Many soldiers had already died that way.

And that wasn’t all. Her hands and feet were already terrifying killing instruments in themselves, but right after using the Heart of the Star, they became unstoppable weapons.

The only ones who could defend against such attacks were perhaps the Finance Minister Rie Hezedia and Eshatherna.

So the general couldn’t block it.

He felt strength gradually leaving his body and unknowingly dropped to one knee.

Exhaling heated breath, he opened his mouth to hold her back until the very end, but.

“I—”

“Get lost.”

Lucilla was not one to be trifled with.

The last thing the general saw was her face, contorted with disgust.

The general’s head cleanly disappeared, and what the terrified soldiers and mercenaries witnessed was Lucilla withdrawing her leg as if retracting a thrust.

Leaving behind the headless body that trembled, Lucilla drew in a breath with a “sss.”

“Esha—!”

No answer came to her call. But there was a presence she could sense.

A deliberate release of mental imagery. A method not very effective against whatever was currently binding Eshatherna.

But sufficient for a certain woman to read the magical energy floating in the air and determine the exact location.

Lucilla rolled her eyes and leaped.

“Stop her! We can’t let them join—”

Something sprouted from the eyes of the sergeant who was giving orders while hiding among the soldiers.

Only after he suddenly stopped speaking and collapsed did the soldiers realize it was an arrow.

An arrow made of blue light. A strike where neither the firing nor the impact could be seen. As the soldiers lost their chain of command and fell into confusion, a giant figure burst out from the undergrowth.

That charge was massive enough to cause a commotion yet left no sound. Apart from the initial “thump” of the leap, there was only the sound of wind being cut.

‘A barbarian warrior…?!’

A near-naked body with spears and arrows embedded throughout, a face grimly contorted, a limping leg, an outstretched arm.

Before a soldier could aim his spear, the Mourner had invaded the battlefield.

The moment his outstretched arm—specifically, his grip—seized the head of a spear-wielding soldier.

Crunch!

A headless corpse was created. And it didn’t end there.

The Mourner lowered his empty left hand and grabbed the ankle of the corpse.

Before commotion could spread among the soldiers, the corpse, gripped by the ankle, sprayed blood in all directions, heralding its own death.

A shield-and-sword-wielding soldier was crushed by the body of his comrade who had been alive just moments ago, and an iron bullet fired from a tree pierced the neck of a mercenary about to aim his bow.

And on the opposite side of the encirclement, a small girl and a woman suddenly dropped down among the soldiers.

A girl who concealed her presence and wore a ring that cast invisibility magic on her body.

And a Blood Knight in a white dress, holding a beheading sword straight.

The girl tapped the scabbard on the ground, and as the soldiers all turned their heads at the sound.

The dark brown blade and crimson blade moved at high speed as if multiplying their numbers.

Slashing, stabbing, piercing.

It happened dozens of times in an instant. Due to the “Blessing of Acceleration” cast with recovered magical energy, the attacks were executed and completed without taking even a moment.

Soldiers with pierced necks, heads, eyes, and hearts all collapsed at once.

Dozens of severed necks rolled on the ground simultaneously.

Through the splattered blood, four figures ran. Their top priority was to join forces. Their gazes all turned toward the sky.

The signal of convergence still burning.

Below it, a man ran.

He crossed the shadow cast beneath the magic that was erupting.

The magic that left heat trails in the air as it surged was clearly lethal. For an ordinary human, defense was out of the question; evasion was the best they could hope for.

However, this didn’t apply to Luwellin right now.

He extended his sword toward the magic targeting his head.

The flame caught on the sword’s edge felt lighter than down. Because it was truly flame, with almost no weight.

But his delicate senses and concentration moved his body. He rotated using the foot he had stepped forward with for his leap as an axis. After a light rotation.

KWAAAAAAAAAH!

The magic returned to its owner. Heat rays collided with heat rays, creating a thunderous roar. The blast scorched his flesh and tilted his body, but Luwellin didn’t stop.

Instead, he dove forward. Gritting his teeth, even as his scorched eyeballs turned his vision black.

He lunged forward and swung his sword.

KAAAAAAAAANG!

A barrier. Another barrier. But the corners of his mouth turned up. Now he would reach him. Meanwhile, Azdan’s face was contorting.

Around him lay soldiers who had died with their heads crushed, severed, or pierced by arrows.

Azdan was tilting, with burn-like lacerations all over his body.

He knew support had been called. So he didn’t hesitate. Luwellin believed in his regenerative abilities and, beyond that, in the life of the human he held in his hands.

It was swordsmanship that could face even nature itself. It could easily handle magic.

Azdan gritted his teeth and, as he was blown backward, grabbed a passing tree with his hand.

KRRRRRRRR!

The tree transformed. In an instant, it was carved and twisted into the shape of a giant human.

A technique possible only for the War School. A simplified golem creation spell. But by the time the golem took form and swung its fist, Luwellin had already raised his sword.

Clang, after a light collision sound, Luwellin tilted his body.

Then came the swish of a blade as the golem fell.

The golem lost its head and sprawled on the ground. It no longer moved. Luwellin kicked the severed head toward Azdan.

Since soccer was the only sport he had been good at, the golem’s head, kicked with explosive leaping power, rushed at an incredible speed.

KWAAAAAAAAAANG!

Cracks appeared in the barrier. Flying wooden fragments obscured vision. Even the soldiers couldn’t shoot or help because the golem’s massive body blocked their view.

So it reached him. The crimson blade piercing through the barrier. Azdan opened his eyes wide and stretched out his right arm.

“KUUUUUAAAAAAAK!”

The sword didn’t just pierce through. The moment something touched the sword’s edge, it moved as if returning arrows that had flown toward him multiple times.

The blade twisted. Naturally, the pierced arm was crushed and melted, and even Azdan couldn’t suppress a scream at the pain beyond imagination.

Then came the rushing strike. A kick stretched out to target the head.

Having lost both arms, Azdan manipulated magic through incantation to drape what remained of his barrier over his head.

With that, a “thump” sounded, and Azdan’s body flew.

KWANG, KUNG, KUNGKUNG, KWAJIJIJIK!

After breaking through several trees as he flew, Azdan finally managed to stop when he hit a pine tree that was already leaning.

His coughs were mixed with handfuls of blood, and though he had lost both arms, he was still alive.

Azdan, lying where he had fallen, gasped for breath while assessing his condition.

Magical energy, less than half remained.

Body, lost both arms, internal organs damaged, and fractures all over.

Support? The convergence signal had definitely sounded.

Could they all be dead? Just as Azdan’s brilliant mind was failing to function properly due to pain and confusion.

He saw Luwellin charging toward him. I’m going to die. As Azdan unconsciously shrank back.

The blade Luwellin swung toward Azdan broke.

KAAAAAAANG!

The broken blade stuck in the ground and returned to its original form, cooling down to look like an ordinary steel sword.

Only then did Azdan see who had blocked Luwellin.

The Empire’s greatest Justice Judge, Faber.

He had lost his left arm and was holding a swordbreaker in reverse grip.

And he wasn’t alone.

“Lord Azdan, are you alright?!”

Soldiers were rushing in from the edge of the forest.

Among those soldiers were scattered powerful individuals who could help in the current situation.

Elven mercenaries who lived by the sword from the south, barbarian warriors who had crossed from the north and settled in the Empire, beast-folk warriors gathered from various places.

And the War School mages who had made countless advancements since Azdan took power.

It was not a number that one individual could face. Azdan felt his disciple casting recovery magic on him as he approached.

The pain began to fade. A sense of relief and accomplishment.

He smiled, sighed, and was about to express his gratitude, but.

Contrary to his expectations, the convergence was not a complete success.

“Lord Azdan, order a retreat.”

Justice Judge Faber said. As Azdan raised his head, not understanding.

His eyes caught sight of figures approaching behind Luwellin.

His advisor Melody, with closed eyes and a purple cloak.

A giant with muscles twitching despite having spears and swords embedded throughout his body.

A snow leopard holding a glowing bow and a woman who had somehow approached behind Luwellin, holding a beheading sword.

And someone Azdan knew well.

“…Guardian Duke.”

“Esha.”

Azdan was no fool. He naturally knew that his name wasn’t the one being called.

“Kill him.”

A chilling sensation rushed forward. As Azdan threw his body aside, a line was drawn in the air.

Azdan’s disciple collapsed, spewing blood from his neck, and Faber rushed toward the trajectory where the line had been drawn.

KAGAGAGANG!

Dozens of trajectories surged in an instant.

An elf with flowing blonde hair swung daggers with an expressionless face tinged with irritation, and the Justice Judge countered those traces.

Only then did Azdan realize that Faber’s advice to retreat had been spoken with the resolve to die.

Faber knew well that even he couldn’t retreat. Lines were already appearing all over Faber’s body. He couldn’t face Eshatherna after losing an arm.

So Azdan followed Faber’s last wish.

“Everyone retreat!”

Even though he knew the losses this would create would be extraordinary, it was the best option.