Ch.293Storm (1)

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“Llewellyn!”

“Is that it? The thing you were talking about…?”

People calling his name and his sister asking questions. Llewellyn walked among them and nodded.

“Yes. That must be it.”

He hadn’t received any specific information. He simply judged with the divinity bestowed upon him.

Even without that, anyone with a bit of perception could tell.

That’s why Lucilla had asked. To anyone watching, this was clearly something that would appear when someone was trying to close the world.

Llewellyn walked while looking up at the sky.

While the center of the world might not be the Pantheon, right now it might as well be. Some kind of energy was condensing through the hole opened in the sky.

Everything begins here, and everything ends here. Llewellyn intuitively knew this fact as he moved forward.

“My King.”

“Court Count.”

“All Blood Knights have assembled. Your orders?”

“Prepare for defensive battle. Arm the ‘Seeds’ as well, but have them focus on internal security.”

“Understood.”

“Seeds” referred to the mixed-blood vampires continuously improved by Ortemilia.

Though not Blood Knights, they were raised to a level comparable to Blood Knights, particularly those showing aptitude for combat.

They received all manner of equipment and training on the condition that they would later become Blood Knights, and now they remained in the Pantheon as a decent fighting force.

They and the Blood Knights were soldiers Llewellyn could trust and deploy at any time—soldiers who never felt fatigue.

“Also, the alchemist has completed the armor.”

“Good. I’d like to have it brought here.”

“It shall be done, Your Majesty.”

As the Court Count bowed and withdrew, Llewellyn crossed the Pantheon toward its center.

There weren’t many people along the way.

The elderly and infirm, those unable to fight, were all being evacuated—to Ortemilia’s laboratory and the underground where mixed-blood vampires still resided.

Those who remained were those capable of fighting, those skilled in combat.

Llewellyn walked among such people.

He saw true warriors preparing for battle, gathering weapons and steeling their resolve. They showed slightly different reactions each time Llewellyn passed by.

Some folded their hands in prayer.

Most of them were from the three clans—shapeshifters, blood clan, and necromancers.

But a small minority were inquisitors, black knights, and soldiers or mercenaries under Arba.

People praying to the miracle Llewellyn carried, to the victories he had brought forth.

Llewellyn could feel those prayers flowing into him.

He was a god.

A young man selected for unknown reasons and burdened with a heavy load.

Normally, one should feel crushed by such pressure, but strangely, Llewellyn felt almost none of it.

It wasn’t that he felt nothing at all, but rather, it infused him with a pleasant vitality.

His heart raced, and tension hung in the air with every step he took as eyes followed him.

The final battle was imminent. Llewellyn climbed onto a high platform.

As soon as he ascended, people stopped what they were doing and looked up at him.

The collective gaze was intense. Llewellyn smiled amidst all those eyes.

“The time has come.”

He felt tension and fear.

Thoughts of what might go wrong crossed his mind.

What rested on Llewellyn’s shoulders now was not just his own life.

The fate of the world and all life hung in the balance.

Yet somehow, Llewellyn found himself smiling.

He smiled despite knowing that failure would mean the end of everything.

And it was neither resignation nor madness.

Llewellyn had confidence.

He had the conviction that he would lose no more, the determination to find happiness after this battle ended.

Though he knew no battle existed without loss, he vowed not to be robbed unfairly anymore.

Such determination and will wove his divinity. His divinity, now with direction, filled the Pantheon with a loose pulsation.

The nest of gods, the dwelling of deities.

At the same time, humanity’s last bastion. Llewellyn, at its center, extended his finger upward.

“For a long time, we have lived without knowing what was taking from us or what awaited us. We simply accepted being robbed as natural, enduring days of humiliation.”

At the tip of his extended finger was the open sky. The sky where Netel’s power was condensing to close it.

“We considered it providence. Not just being born and dying, but being born, robbed, and becoming nothing but a handful of blood without leaving anything behind—we considered that providence.”

Being exploited without knowing they were being exploited, dying without knowing why they died.

No one knew what lurked behind the world’s facade. Those who did deliberately blinded themselves.

But.

“They are not satisfied and are trying to devour this world itself.”

The world faces destruction. If nothing is done, if no one steps forward, the world will ultimately perish.

This was evident from Netel’s plea for help. Without someone stepping forward to help, Netel would not be able to close the world.

That’s why they had taken up arms. Why they stood their ground here.

“They seek to trample our friends, our families, the connections that might someday blossom. Not satisfied with devouring everything, they want to chew up and swallow the world.”

Llewellyn gritted his teeth. After glaring at the sky with clear anger, he met the eyes of those watching him.

“Must we truly endure this?”

No answer came, but it was obvious.

“Must we tolerate this?”

He could see people clutching their weapons.

By their own will, or because they were pushed.

For whatever reason, those who stood here.

The people of the Pantheon.

Llewellyn asked them:

“Must we truly kneel before those things?!”

Instead of an answer, a silence filled with resolve returned. Feeling that resolve, Llewellyn slowly lowered the hand that had been pointing at the sky.

“I will not command you to fight. I will not force you to sacrifice your lives.”

The sky he had been pointing at until just now seemed to ripple. Beyond the sky that was slowly writhing to close, countless malicious intents could be felt.

The lurking energy was so distant that ordinary humans couldn’t even reach it.

“If you wish to live and fight on this land, my blessing will be with each of you.”

As terror receded, silence fell. Llewellyn twisted the corner of his mouth.

“Let us protect it.”

That was enough. People began moving hastily again.

Establishing defensive lines, checking weapons, tapping armor to confirm its condition.

Going further, helping comrades with careful inspections, offering improvements to each other, and hurrying with all possible preparations.

Llewellyn watched these people as he descended from the platform.

“That was a splendid speech. A bit conventional, perhaps… but personally, I liked it.”

“Ortemilia.”

As he came down, a woman greeted him.

A girl who was both lover and mother. She approached Llewellyn with a bright smile.

“The armor. It is complete.”

Llewellyn’s existing armor was severely damaged.

Even the excellent craftsmanship of the Black Knights couldn’t fully restore it, and even if they could, it was uncertain whether it would withstand the battles to come.

So Llewellyn had ordered completely new armor.

The anti-demonic techniques of the Black Knights and the Empress’s bioengineering.

The excellent metallurgy of the Blood Knights derived from the Court Count’s blood clan.

The magic of necromancers combined with Ortemilia’s genius—perfect armor that could only be created through these means.

This was the finished product.

Llewellyn knew himself well. He knew he was the strongest force in the Pantheon and its most crucial existence.

He also knew that his combat ability and survival would largely determine the outcome of the battle.

He neither underestimated nor overestimated himself. He saw things as they were and applied them to reality.

“Since you’ve used up your existing holy blood, I made new ones and designed them to link with the armor.”

Llewellyn faced the result.

It didn’t look like typical armor.

Where there should have been slits, thin metal was attached, and overall, it featured smooth yet elaborate reliefs.

Red and black energies swirled around these reliefs, intertwining like coiling serpents and flowing throughout the armor.

At the back of the armor’s waist, a device made of cylinders and spheres was attached, and this complex mechanism was constantly moving even though the armor wasn’t yet worn.

“Made with scales, bones, skin, and more scales that the Empress herself crafted from her own body. That’s why it’s both flexible and sturdy.”

Llewellyn nodded to those approaching to help him don the armor, and listened as the armor was fitted to his body.

“The lining is generously coated with anti-demonic paint, the secret technique of the anti-demonic school. Enough paint for ten Black Knights, they say.”

“And the device on the back?”

“A result of combining the secret techniques of the anti-demonic school and the blood clan. I had quite a struggle with it.”

A silently moving device. From within it, a strong anti-demonic force could be felt.

“It amplifies anti-demonic power using blood magic adapted from the blood clan, and circulates holy blood throughout your body. It can also integrate with the holy blood residing in you.”

“The effect?”

“Holy blood and anti-demonic power flowing along the armor’s surface will continuously push away, deflect, and shed enemy attacks. In other words, active defense.”

The status window failed to properly display the item’s description.

It had been that way since the sky began to close. Despite an uneasy feeling, Llewellyn examined the armor.

Indeed, even to Llewellyn’s eyes, tiny somethings were barely visible flowing along the armor’s surface.

“That’s not the only effect of the holy blood. Using your body inside the armor as a heart, it circulates to repair the armor and strengthens the outer shell in response to your exoskeletal true form.”

There was no need to use Appraisal. Llewellyn could feel it in the structure filling the inside of the armor.

“An amplification of temporary health. I like it.”

It was worthy of the request for truly perfect armor. Llewellyn clenched and unclenched his fist to check the armor’s condition.

The last remaining effects were those of the gauntlets and greaves. Llewellyn glanced at Ortemilia.

“Iron Man, was it? There’s no worry about the armor being damaged when using it. I designed it to form anti-demonic power into fragments and indirectly treat them as armor to be fired. If you wish, you can fire as many times as you have anti-demonic power left.”

Llewellyn smiled at Ortemilia’s explanation.

Iron Man. It was the name of a tabard he had acquired not long after falling into this world.

Its effect was to explode the armor and scatter it like shotgun pellets. However, after obtaining the black armor, he had rarely used this effect, not wanting to easily destroy it.

She had improved that effect and compensated for the loss of defense that had felt like a white elephant. It was a result beyond perfection.

Utilizing everything he possessed to the fullest, down to the last detail. Knowing there could be no better preparation, Llewellyn put his arm around Ortemilia’s shoulders.

“Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. The children will need a father, won’t they?”

Why the plural?

Llewellyn wondered but didn’t ask.

Instead, he tucked the helmet that was handed to him last under his arm and looked in the direction where hostility was strongly felt.

He could sense the approaching battle.

A battle that might be the last.

Llewellyn pressed on the helmet and grasped the air.

Starlight formed in his hand.