Ch.294Storm (2)

The Pantheon was situated on a gentle hill and mountain range.

Being accessible from all directions—north, south, east, and west—also meant it could be attacked from anywhere.

Inevitably, there was a price to pay for maintaining such a strategic position.

The same applied to battle. Knowing this well, Llewellyn spread his divine power widely from the center of the Pantheon.

The space resonated in response to his divine power. The divinity spread through the space like spores or powder, filling the area and illuminating everyone preparing for battle.

Normally, Llewellyn’s cognitive abilities couldn’t perceive and remember the sheer number of people present.

Warriors approaching the battlefield with different weapons and attitudes. Beyond their faces, reaching the horizon.

Only then could he see them—enemy forces slowly closing in from literally all directions, north, south, east, and west.

The Transcendent’s army.

Contractors mixed with monsters, forces of the Transcendent who had been lurking in corners of the world like the Demon Realm, quietly building their strength.

Their purpose was clear. They intended to burn and tear apart this Pantheon to reach Netel.

Once they reached Netel, the rest was predictable. They would kill, drag down, or interfere with Netel to prevent the closing of the world.

After that, only destruction remained. Predetermined, inescapable destruction. The inevitable end that even gods had tried to avoid but ultimately succumbed to.

Llewellyn knew he had to fight to prevent this. He raised his head while holding a cluster of stars.

All of Llewellyn’s close associates were watching him.

“My King, the Blood Knights are ready.”

The Court Count announced. He wasn’t wearing his usual formal attire but armor—similar in style to what Lorian once wore, though thinner with more defined lines.

With a slender longsword at his waist, he was the epitome of a Blood Knight.

“My children will, as always, handle themselves? I’m looking forward to it.”

The Empress was her usual self. Her very normalcy revealed her true feelings.

The fact that she neither abandoned her post nor rushed toward the enemy lines showed that the upcoming battle for the Pantheon would be no easy feat—or by her standards, entertaining.

The Shapeshifters, though under her management, had always been left to their own devices and needed no orders.

“How frivolous. My King, the necromancers are ready to fight at any moment.”

The Prophet bowed respectfully while rebuking the Empress. He and his necromancers would be instrumental in coordinating and managing the entire battlefield.

Llewellyn looked at each person standing near the three Seat Holders.

Knight Arba, commanding the southern forces.

Melody, overseeing the eastern troops where the terrain was gentlest and the most enemies were expected, while coordinating the entire battlefield.

The Sword Saint and the Sword Saint Society, responsible for the center and the rugged northern terrain, ready to provide support to other directions while defending.

Valterok and others, handling the dangerous western front that bordered the Demon Realm.

Each of them, masters in their respective fields, awaited Llewellyn’s command.

It would have been natural to feel burdened, but strangely, Llewellyn felt none.

And that wasn’t all. Throughout the battlefield, people close to Llewellyn were already preparing for battle, each with their own weapons.

Llewellyn’s divine power sensed their presences.

Isla, holding a bow and gazing eastward, raising her head at the divine power and waving expressionlessly.

Not far from her, Lucilla rubbing her hands together in the falling snow.

Eshatherna humming while stretching beside Lucilla.

Lorian, fingering his sword hilt behind the Blood Knights, wearing blood-stained armor.

Maya giving a speech while coordinating the Sword Saint Society members, with Jenia smiling brightly beside her.

Rie Hezedia moving busily, checking something with a stack of documents, and the Blazing Lord showing no signs of fatigue despite having recently expended great power.

Knowing he was ready to fight, Llewellyn focused on the nearest enemy forces.

Their numbers were vast. Countless.

But fleeing rather than facing these forces was never an option.

Netel was already trying to close the world. Even a minor interference would lead to failure, and the price of failure would be immense.

“I have only one command,” Llewellyn said lightly amid the gathering attention.

“No matter what happens, don’t let them enter the Pantheon.”

“What do you intend to do, my King?” the Prophet asked cautiously.

Llewellyn rolled his eyes while measuring the enemy’s presence through his divine power.

[Class: Warrior – Mourner 19]

A number appearing in the corner of his vision. A level that clearly showed room for growth, still insufficient.

Llewellyn grasped something in the corner and answered.

“Experience farming.”

He thought he should complete his build first.

*

The offensive began.

Attacks started almost simultaneously across the entire Pantheon, beginning with the act of closing the distance.

It was natural, as grotesque monsters that would make ordinary humans lose courage and morale were approaching.

To that extent, these approaching monsters lacked anything that could be called a normal appearance.

Twisted limbs and hideously distorted forms.

Even their outlines were unclear, and those who rashly approached them found nothing that could be called reason.

Their minds were filled solely with a vague impulse.

To approach the Pantheon, eliminate all enemies, and tear Netel apart.

Driven by that single vague impulse, an army numbering enough to fill the horizon moved forward. In the pupils of those watching the approaching enemy, faint traces of fear floated.

The eastern forces were a mix of Inquisitors, Blood Knights, Shapeshifters, and mercenaries.

As the most diverse group among the four directions, their individual thoughts might differ.

But what they commonly felt was a sense of being overwhelmed.

The sheer number and quality of the enemy forces conveyed that sentiment and more to the troops facing them.

This feeling wasn’t limited to the eastern soldiers.

Different Transcendent forces were closing in from each direction.

From the south, twisted monsters emerging from the ocean and half-lightning creatures were moving northward.

From the north, subterranean monsters were appearing, either bypassing mountains or tunneling through.

The west had familiar monsters from the Demon Realm, but as expected, their numbers were the greatest among the four directions.

None of these opponents would be easy to deal with.

Moreover, the Transcendents controlling them were not just one.

All four directions faced combined forces from multiple Transcendents.

Normally they would be enemies, but they had united in the face of the clear crisis of Netel trying to close the world.

Hence the tension. The tension spreading among the troops extended beyond death.

Could they really win? Did they have any chance of victory?

Swallowing hard, the eastern forces stood firm with weapons tightly gripped as the enemy army gradually revealed itself.

Now that they were close enough to be seen with the naked eye, they felt the tension.

‘That dragon from before…’

One soldier recognized the enemy forces.

Twisted and repeatedly regenerated forms that bore no resemblance to their original shapes.

Something that demonstrated capabilities beyond normal function while closing the distance.

The soldier slightly frowned at the sticky feeling of obsession in their gait, then looked at the one standing at the very front.

An unfamiliar being. But clearly powerful.

One who dragged massive forearms on the ground, approaching with a limping gait.

A Contractor. Something that was both a Mourner and not.

The first offensive was led by “Father” and his subordinate Contractors.

The soldier confirmed this and shouted.

“Enemy identified! Same Transcendent that attacked the Pantheon recently! Exceptional physical abilities and regeneration are their strengths! Respond calmly and focus on neutralization!”

The message spread like an echo throughout the forces. It didn’t take long to relay the information to the entire army.

The question was whether that would be enough.

Among the forces were Blood Knights, and their blood magic could certainly bind the enemies.

But binding was the most they could do. They needed to bring in at least a Star Contractor, but the Star Contractor was in the west.

Likely stopping the forces sent by the Transcendents from the Demon Realm. That’s what being in the right place meant.

As the soldier pondered this, a faint shadow flashed before his eyes.

A vastness that made him look up involuntarily. What he saw was the movement of something presumed to be a Contractor.

Crunch!

With a greatly raised arm, it grabbed the upper body of another Contractor standing nearby. The soldier’s eyes widened as he watched the grabbed upper body change shape.

It became a spear. Considering that even the most skilled normal javelin could at best pierce one person, this was excessively large.

The luxury of using an entire Contractor as a weapon. Power worthy of such extravagance was budding.

One strike would be enough. More than enough to pierce through the defensive line. The soldier quickly turned to look at the Blood Knight.

These enemies had powerful defensive measures that could block even Star attacks. If they deployed them all at once…

Could they stop it?

Doubt arose. The Blood Knight seemed to hesitate for a very brief moment as well. The beautiful-faced Blood clan member glanced sideways before stepping forward.

They thought it better to offset the attack using all their blood. It was a resource too precious to expend from the start, but better than having the entire army pierced through.

‘Such a large-scale attack from the beginning!’

The enemy was a Transcendent. It was only natural that they wouldn’t care about human lives or army resources. Just as they realized this and were about to try to block it despite their shock—

Swoooooosh!

Something flew in with the sound of cutting wind and landed.

A fluttering cloak, and beneath it, a crimson head hanging at the waist, rolling its eyes.

“The rear is secure. Strike them down freely.”

The words of the God of Dreams, transmitted through dreams. The voice that pierced precisely into the mind across time, and Llewellyn took his stance.

Whooooom!

A javelin shot as if carving through space itself. Rushing with the size of a siege weapon, it made one imagine devastating power even in this medieval world without missiles.

Something that seemed impossible for a single individual to block. Mighty enough to destroy an entire castle and more.

Llewellyn moved his cluster of stars against it. Starlight adorned the empty space.

Proficiency bonus: 8 points.

A proficiency that surpassed the human limit of 6 points, and even the 7 points of the Sword Saint who had reached the realm of mastery.

With that, he drew a perfect sword path.

With such proficiency, he implemented the technique “Striking Down.” The effect was defensive power proportional to the proficiency bonus.

He neutralized the transcendence that was originally unblockable with divine power, and fully drew out the power that activated in sequence the moment the javelin touched his extended sword.

[Mourning]

[Time remaining: 120 seconds]

[Temporary health remaining: 120]

The power flowing through his armor amplified.

[Coffining]

He put all his strength, which was practically an automatic counterattack, into striking down.

He achieved in reality what would be impossible in a game. At the end, Llewellyn determined the sword path and swung his blade.

Claaaaaang!

With a sharp metallic sound, the javelin flew upward. It returned exactly in the direction it came from.

A feat difficult, no, impossible to recreate with ordinary javelins or arrows.

Yet clearly brought into reality, a miracle considered impossible.

A straight path of destruction cut through the enemy forces, from the upper body of the Contractor who had thrown another Contractor as a javelin to the army standing behind.

Leaving only a handful of blood, a long corridor opened in the enemy forces, and Llewellyn, who had demonstrated this miraculous feat, lightly dusted off his sword.