Ch.253Hersella’s Perspective (2)

Of course, if it were just talent, Hersella would not have valued that impostor so highly.

Indecisive attitude, fragile spirit, missing opportunities while avoiding danger. Every aspect was far from what a warrior should be.

Ka’har of the Aishan-Gioro.

She too was a woman who lived by a warrior’s values.

Even if she despised her bloodline and her clan, she could not deny the deep-rooted essence of her soul.

To Hersella, the impostor’s behavior was unbearably frustrating.

Hesitating and failing, wavering and making mistakes, blaming even misfortune on herself and groaning with guilt.

It was simply unbearable.

Because it was, from beginning to end, too similar to her own weak past self.

The unpleasant pain of stirring old wounds brought forth anger.

What a cruel joke. She had hated that powerlessness so much that she drove herself to gain strength.

Yet the result was merely staring helplessly at a mirror image of her former self, muttering powerlessly.

It was truly miserable.

—-

‘…But not anymore. Yes. At this point… I can’t deny calling her a warrior.’

Yes. The impostor was gradually transforming into a true warrior.

Becoming someone who embodies generosity and intensity, proving herself through strength.

No, perhaps her boldness was even excessive.

When she jumped off the Wall of Berengaria without hesitation, even Hersella was shocked by such recklessness.

There was still weakness remaining inside her, but Hersella could no longer despise even that weakness.

It was now impossible to mock the occasional vulnerability she showed, or the pathetic confessions she made to that white-haired woman called Lacy.

Because she had come to understand what lay at the core of those feelings.

‘…Spouting unnecessary words.’

/I want to save people.

The weak ones who are helplessly swept away by the harshness of the world./

…At first, she thought it was just empty talk from someone pathetically weak.

That she was being picky about methods when she should be focusing on getting stronger as quickly as possible.

But that woman had enforced her stubbornness through actions, not words.

She even passed the final test that had been given as advice, showing that she could stand tall through her own strength.

Then it was no longer mere stubbornness, but should be called a warrior’s conviction.

Hersella had to acknowledge it.

This woman sincerely wanted to protect people, with the same desperation that Hersella herself desired revenge.

Still, Hersella couldn’t understand that sentiment.

The weak are devoured. That was the world she knew.

But just because she couldn’t understand it didn’t mean she could deny it.

Because she had somehow begun to remember someone who had said the same thing.

– You see, your mother couldn’t ignore people who were suffering. I wanted to protect them from getting hurt or feeling pain. Like the heroes in old tales.

Yes. She couldn’t mock it.

Mocking that mindset would be the same as ridiculing Hersella’s own mother.

‘Really… what an unpleasant person. From beginning to end, making me recall old memories….’

With every word spoken, memories of her mother overlapped.

Long-faded recollections, precious but irretrievable.

That’s why she could no longer hate her.

This mysterious woman who seemed to have gathered and mixed all her past memories in one place.

‘What an unpleasant… person….’

By this point, Hersella’s animosity toward the impostor had almost completely dissolved.

‘Perhaps I should ask her name later…? I can’t keep calling her “the impostor.”‘

To the point where she was thinking such thoughts without even realizing it.

—-

The only thing that bothered her was that she had abandoned her own subordinates, the 4th Guard Cavalry Division….

Jahan and Mersin would manage well enough on their own.

Mersin was quite intelligent, and Jahan would have reached the level of Champion by now.

As for the rest of her subordinates, she didn’t care what happened to them.

From the beginning, Hersella only trusted Jahan among all her subordinates.

They might be called her personal guard cavalry, but most of them were just untrustworthy people who started following her only after she became strong.

Even then, they were constantly infiltrated by spies sent by Orhan’s children.

She had naturally weeded them out, but they kept coming no matter how many she killed.

Jahan, however, was different.

Jahan had been on her side since before she showed her claws, when she was still weak.

He had visited her half-abandoned mother’s grave and supported her when she was dying.

Even Hersella, who rarely trusted people, could trust Jahan.

Though she had never expressed it, she felt something akin to familial affection for Jahan.

She sometimes wondered if this was what having an older brother would have been like.

…Though ironically, those who actually shared her bloodline were all bastards.

Anyway, the battle at the wall would have been reported to Ordos by now, so they would know that their lord, Aishan-Gioro Haschal, had completely defected to the Empire. Most would seek other lords and become her enemies.

There would be at most two or three warriors willing to follow her despite betraying the Aishan clan.

Jahan was certain, but she couldn’t be sure about the others.

Mersin obeyed her out of worship for her strength, like the shamans here worship their gods.

He was quite intelligent, but fundamentally he was a warrior with straightforward thinking that the strong are right.

But now that her betrayal was known, how his loyalty might have changed… that was something even Hersella couldn’t know.

Someday, she would have to see for herself.

—-

“Secure and bind the unconscious conscripts! Make sure they can’t cause trouble when they wake up!”

Leopold’s voice, ringing loud and clear, brought Hersella’s consciousness back to reality from her contemplation.

His voice was as powerful as a Champion’s, though his actual combat ability was average at best.

“They are not rebels but imperial subjects who fell victim to a witch’s evil deeds! Keep that in mind and handle them with care!”

Another command followed.

The knights and soldiers who had been staring at the miraculous scene before them finally came to their senses and began rushing about.

Hersella once again looked at the world through Haschal’s eyes.

The sight of thousands of people prostrating themselves before her.

It was an almost reverent scene. As if a god had descended before its followers.

…Though in reality, they had all fainted from terror.

The impostor hadn’t noticed, but among the weaker ones, some had died from heart failure, unable to withstand the killing intent.

Probably the more timid ones among the farmers.

Well, their deaths couldn’t be helped.

If she had lowered the intensity of her killing intent to save them, and others had managed to withstand it, that would have been more troublesome.

As they passed by all of them and finally saw the open plain on the opposite side…

At last, her steps halted.

[You succeeded. How does it feel? Isn’t this something you could never achieve with just a sword?]

“…Indeed. I didn’t think this would be possible.”

The commanding officers on the other side must have all fled, as there was no sign of anyone on horseback, not even their tails were visible.

The archers, who had nothing to rely on but their two legs, had thrown away their bows and were hurriedly running away as fast as they could.

There was no one left with fighting spirit, no one capable of battle.

The fight was over.

—-

While the impostor sheathed her sword and caught her breath to recover her stamina, Hersella was contemplating what name to give this technique.

The impostor probably wouldn’t bother naming a mere walking style, but this was one of Hersella’s few hobbies.

Walking like a ruler, wrapped in killing intent that could blot out the sky, casting fear like a demon, advancing like a god amid the worship of all people.

‘Sky… demon… worship…’

If she had to name it—

‘Heavenly Demon, Dominion…? Yes, this technique should be called the Stride of the Heavenly Demon’s Dominion. For such a scene, no word is more fitting than dominion. Hmm, I think I’ve come up with a good name!’

Hersella once again created a grandiose technique name, praising her own naming sense.

The Stride of the Heavenly Demon’s Dominion. It had a truly pleasing ring to it.

A method that was barely even a technique, simply making the weak around you faint by releasing killing intent.

However, if it could bring down over ten thousand people, it was certainly worthy of being called a supreme technique.

Unlike Hersella, the actual user normally couldn’t contain this level of killing intent due to her temperament, so she would find it difficult to use properly unless extremely angry.

[Remember this scene clearly. This is the Stride of the Heavenly Demon’s Dominion.]

“…Stride of the Heavenly Demon’s Dominion? Hmm… that’s quite grandiose.”

Hersella confidently told the impostor the name she had just created, but the other woman responded with indifference, showing little interest.

Indeed, an ignorant imperial soldier couldn’t possibly understand the magnificence and grandeur contained in this name.

After all, Hersella was a woman who named even her killing techniques.

‘…I suppose I’ll have to name the supreme technique you’ve realized as well. You should be grateful to me someday.’

The battle was now concluded, with only the aftermath remaining.

There was nothing left to advise on or observe, so nothing else to do.

As the impostor caught her breath and returned to the main camp, Hersella silently pondered the name for the technique that compressed time.

===========

The Duel of Zeren Plains.

A war that was expected to flow with blood like the sea was concluded with minimal casualties by the power of a single person.

Strength bordering on miraculous, stopping a massive army of tens of thousands single-handedly.

Of course, she didn’t fight and cut down all of them; rather, she systematically broke their morale and crushed their fighting spirit… but that didn’t diminish the achievement.

It was something no one else in this era could have accomplished.

No one could deny her divinity.

Heir of House Median. Princess of Aishan-Gioro. Knight blessed by the goddess.

The birth of the Empire’s new greatest swordsman, comparable to the legend of the Great’s Twelve Knights, a new legend carved into this era.

And.

—-

The emergence of a Hero.

It was a harbinger.

In the age of Masters, where the number of troops had been the governing truth of war for hundreds of years.

A sign that the age of heroes, which had only remained in legends and seemed to defy the seemingly immutable limits of the world, was returning.

People did not yet know this…

But those who remembered that era would have realized.

That finally, their time was returning.