Ch.273273. The Great Rebellion in the Marquis Territory (3)

The miracle emitting a red light, the sun rising in the sky, radiated a blood-colored brilliance.

The sacred red light settled over the land, and a presence like the sun itself burst forth wildly, drawing the gaze of everyone in the lord’s castle to a single point.

The beautiful body protected by armor tempered with blood looked like a work of art, and the delicate golden decorations engraved on the red armor protecting the flesh testified to his achievements and courage.

The blood-red cloth fluttering behind his waist had a charm that captured everyone’s attention, and the red light emanating from his body was filled with majesty, as if admonishing sinners.

The large, beautiful white wings extending from his back and spreading across the sky were proof of his divinity, and the halo—the source of his sun-like presence—radiating from behind his head shone with a vivid red light.

Though veiled by the red halo, his faintly visible face had been newly molded into beauty by divine power, yet that beautiful face with its distinct red glow was etched with clear anger toward the enemies of God.

The great ancient hero, Guardian of the Holy Spear, One who ascended through death. The “Angel” Mikela has now descended into the material world at God’s call to save the blood-soaked children of the gods.

Everyone present stared at the angel, completely entranced.

Each time the angel, straight-backed in the sky, flapped his wings, sacred feathers scattered and settled upon the heads of the revolutionary army. These feathers then seemed to melt into their bodies, healing their wounds and fatigue while restoring their strength.

Every slight movement the angel made became sacred power that settled upon the children of vengeance, while conversely inflicting spiritual damage on the evil horde—the duke’s forces—driven by vile desires.

“Ugh, uuuuugh…!!”

“My, my eyes! I can’t, I can’t see!!”

“Aaaaaaaargh—!!!”

The angel’s red radiance mentally intimidated warriors of intermediate rank and blinded the filthy creatures moved by futile desires.

This was possible because the angel now had not simply been summoned as a divine servant through someone’s magic, but had descended as a messenger upholding God’s will, greatly increasing his power.

And—a messenger upholding God’s will was itself God’s will, no different from God’s spearhead taking on a personality and descending.

“Waaaaaaaaaah—!!!”

“Revenge! Revenge! Revenge! Revenge! Revenge! Revenge! Revenge!”

“Revolution! Revolution! Revolution! Revolution! Revolution! Revolution! Revolution!”

The revolutionary warriors, who until just moments ago had been too exhausted to move, now shouted wildly with rising energy and passion, using their surging strength to aim catapults and load arrows onto bowstrings.

“…uuuuuugh.”

“How… how can we defeat that…?”

“I’m leaving! Working under someone like that just for money was a mistake from the start!!”

Meanwhile, the morale of the duke’s forces had plummeted to rock bottom. The sight of soldiers groaning with blindness caused by the radiance only amplified this, and some conscientious knights even deserted the army, leading away their servants and followers.

“…Retreat!”

“Duke! Have you no shame?!”

And as a significant number of knights from the Glios Order, whose skill at reading the tide of battle was unmatched, withdrew while criticizing opportunistic attitudes.

The forces remaining in the duke’s army were now barely a fraction of what they had been when they first attacked the lord’s castle.

Conscripted soldiers, more than 90% of whom had been used as arrow shields or consumed while fleeing; regular troops, more than half of whom had lost their sight or fallen into panic—on the verge of fleeing; and about ten knights who couldn’t escape because they were bound by a shared fate. That was all.

In this precarious situation where victory seemed impossible by normal means, the duke finally decided to follow the only path to victory that appeared before him.

“All knights, mount your steeds!! From now on, we hunt that false angel!!”

If the favorable battle situation until now had been reversed by the appearance of that one angel, then killing that angel somehow would make the situation favorable to the duke’s forces again.

Since the duke’s military talent itself was genuine, there was nothing wrong with this situational assessment, and this was something that even the twelve knights who reluctantly remained with the duke’s forces had to acknowledge.

Moreover, these knights were mounted on flying beasts at least at the hippogriff level, purchased with hard-earned… money, and some even rode fifth-rank flying beasts like griffins or manticores, making aerial combat entirely possible.

Flap! Flap! Flap!

Thus, these unsightly knights, filled with the greedy desire to never relinquish what was theirs, mounted their flying beasts, gripped their lances, and flew toward the angel.

“Block them!!”

“Don’t let those things approach the angel!”

“Kill them! Tear them apart! Crush them! Kill them! Tear them apart! Crush them!”

Of course, the revolutionary army, enraged at these knights charging toward their idol (the angel), unleashed attacks, but ultimately, those hideous knights were also intermediate warriors with knightly martial prowess.

Whoosh!!!

Whooom—! Whooom—! Whooom—!

Arrows and crossbow bolts were futilely deflected by the wind created by the flying beasts’ wingbeats, and catapult stones could be easily avoided with slight movements of the flying beasts.

Thanks to this, those creatures of desire who finally reached right in front of the angel thrust their lances, glowing brilliantly with aura, with all their might toward the red angel—

—CRASH—CRACK!

The next moment. Something shot from the red angel’s hand blew away one knight and the hippogriff he was riding, and the image of that object returning to the angel’s hand was clearly imprinted in the eyes of the charging knights.

The spear in the red angel’s hand was so beautiful it could be believed to be from the high heavens, seeming more like a decorative item than a weapon.

Red divine power emanated from the spear blade, which was as beautiful as condensed clouds in pure white, and parts of the shaft, made of solid orichalcum, were tinged red with beautiful forms engraved upon it.

The warriors, unable to understand how such a spear could be used as a weapon, suddenly felt the red light emanating from the spear blade grow even redder—

—SLASH!!

At that moment, the angel, approaching them with a single flap of his wings, swung the spear and split a knight’s head in half, helmet and all.

What followed was the one-sided slaughter of knights by the angel’s overwhelming martial prowess.

The angel moved among the charging knights like a dancer, wielding and thrusting his spear with elegant and beautiful movements. With each movement, the sacred power forming the angel’s body flowed fluidly, bringing destruction to the knights’ flesh.

In contrast to the wings moving with the grace of a swan’s flapping, the spear cut down knights like streaks of light. Knights who had holes pierced through them or parts severed soon met their doom from the sacred power responding to the angel’s movements.

One knight in green armor, even after losing an arm, tried to charge toward the angel again, only to have his neck pierced by an arrow of light formed from scattered feathers.

A knight with a mythril helmet mounted on a griffin tried to throw his hand axe with all his might, but was struck by red light, causing his head to explode along with his griffin’s as they plunged to the ground.

A knight known for his usual brutality tried to swing his battle-hammer at the angel while riding a manticore, but was exposed to black flames—divine power that suddenly erupted and changed form—and burned to a crisp.

The only knight of serf origin among them, confused and unable to properly assess the situation, was forced to return to the ground when his owlbear panicked.

After the angel easily disposed of these knights, each at the level of elite knights (fifth rank), all that remained was the leader of this army—Duke Glios, mounted on a manticore.

“Ugh, uuuuuugh—!!!”

He was furious at how far he—once great, in his own mind—had fallen, enraged at being driven to such a miserable state by mere serfs, angry simply that the world did not go his way.

And so Duke Glios, wearing full-body armor of mythril painted gold, trembling with rage, finally unable to contain the anger rising from his petty mind, charged at the angel.

And immediately after.

—SLASH!

With a sound of cleanly sliced meat, so crisp it could be called refreshing, the ugly head stained with greed and anger flew through the air.

It was the end of Duke Glios.