Ch.960I Can’t Take This Anymore.

“Vile, pathetic, cruel, merciless, and cowardly group assault.

The three psychopaths who claimed to be Great’s Twelve Knights circled around me like clock hands, unleashing endless combination attacks.

A strategy where they covered each other’s openings and thoroughly neutralized every one of my attacks. I felt like a mantis trapped between spinning blades.

Normally, I would have used Defying Fate’s time compression to quickly take them down one by one and break their coordination… but unfortunately, one of the enemies had acceleration abilities, making that tactic unusable.

“KAAAAANG!”

My longsword, extended with compressed time, was blocked by an accelerated spear blade that created a whirlwind.

Defying Fate unraveled. The spear blade remained fast. In that split second, the tip of his spear grazed across my shoulder.

My shoulder suddenly burned hot, as if the spear had pierced through not only my armor but even the protection of the Kenaz.

“Kuk…!”

I let out a groan and frowned. Not because of the pain in my shoulder, but out of frustration that my attack had failed again.

“You’re less impressive than your reputation suggests. Perhaps our new lord was overly cautious.”

The red-haired knight who had sliced through my shoulder armor sneered and spouted nonsense.

“Ha, you goddamn bastard.”

I spat toward him and cursed. I couldn’t believe I had to listen to such drivel.

Really. If it weren’t for those fairy bastards.

I desperately missed the power I’d expended on those fairies. If I still had that strength, this fight would have ended in my victory long ago.

But I don’t, do I?

Damn it.

With a body depleted from the battle with the fairies, I couldn’t even perform Sky Slash, let alone time stop, without risking complete exhaustion.

I could probably take down one of them for certain, but two would be risky, and defeating all three simultaneously was impossible.

So what could I do? I had to focus entirely on buying time as originally planned, continuing this gradually losing battle.

“Getting anxious? Your expression is hardening. Truly satisfying to see you looking as pitiful as a dog with its tail between its legs.”

“What nonsense. If you’re so confident, come at me one-on-one. What, too scared?”

I criticized them as I knocked off my completely severed left shoulder plate. My tone was closer to mockery than sincerity.

“Aren’t you knights ashamed? Three of you ganging up to torment one weak woman. If it were me, I’d kill myself.”

People should have some sense of decency. The nerve of them to talk so proudly while three of them attacked me at once.

“One-on-one? Do knights of this era concern themselves with such things? How luxurious.”

“In that era of war, could we afford the luxury of one-on-one duels?”

However, my mockery seemed to have no effect.

The red-haired knight who brought down his spear like a meteor and the old man who swung his greatsword to create waves of black flame showed no shame whatsoever about their group attack.

Perhaps their way of thinking was fundamentally different. They didn’t seem to have any concept that ganging up was cowardly.

I didn’t even expect anything from the last one. How could a madman possess conscience or shame?

“Torment? This is a marriage proposal!”

See what I mean?

“Marriage proposal? Ha, how so?”

“At night, stabbing, making you bleed? That’s a proposal! A bit intense, but still!”

More insane talk.

No, wait, this bastard has gone back to informal speech.

For a while, he had been calling me “my lady” and using formal speech, but I guess he got tired of it. His mood swings are like watching porridge boil.

“Naudiz!”

The self-proclaimed Astolfo shouted as he aimed his lance at my back.

Dark red mana swirled around his lance blade, covering it with vampiric energy that would drain the health and stamina of whoever it touched.

‘Block it!’

I frantically swung Durandal to deflect the acceleration spear-wielder’s rain of thrusts, leaving my rear defense to Hersella.

[You don’t know how to ask properly. At such times, you should beg, “Please block it for me.”]

Stop talking nonsense and just block it!

KWADEUDEUGK!

A sound like metal plates being crushed and torn. Chunks of my Karma of Murder power were being shaved away.

Despite her sarcasm, Hersella readily extended the tentacles of Karma of Murder to block the self-proclaimed Astolfo’s lance and counterattack, tearing up the ground around him.

“Oh? This seems familiar…”

The madman’s voice was filled with doubt. The self-proclaimed Astolfo tilted his head in déjà vu as he activated the Hagalaz rune to grind away the tentacles of Karma.

As if this dark red energy—the embodied power of Karma of Murder, presumably Vanirgand’s power—was quite familiar to him.

“That power…! I see. With that black hair and monstrous strength, I suspected it, but you truly are that monster’s descendant?”

“Hmm, Rotholandus would be furious. To think his successor would be a half-blood with an enemy he could never share the sky with. What an unsurpassed tragedy and insult.”

The other two seemed convinced I was a descendant of the first Heavenly Demon just by looking at me. Their killing intent toward me intensified noticeably.

“Are you ones to talk?”

“That’s fair enough.”

The old man nodded in agreement.

As if former Great’s Twelve Knights who had become subordinates of a necromancer and were now targeting the owner of the holy sword were in no position to criticize someone else’s bloodline.

…Indeed.

These guys, as unbelievable as it seems… could they really be who they claim?

Though I’ve been trying to deny it, I was already certain. These were indeed the Great’s Twelve Knights from eight hundred years ago, just as Astolfo had confessed.

There was no room for denial.

I wanted to deny it, but I couldn’t.

They spoke of things that could only be explained if they were the Great’s Twelve Knights, and possessed skills that made no sense unless they were the Great’s Twelve Knights.

So they must indeed be the Great’s Twelve Knights. More precisely, they would be phantom knights created by Feirius twisting something like their thought remnants. Probably.

Phantom knights.

Not the Great’s Twelve Knights themselves, but products of necromancy that had their memories and martial arts perfectly transplanted, recreating them in a form nearly identical to the originals.

In the original story, I’m sure he summoned heroes from an even earlier era, not the Great’s Twelve Knights…

Well, this world has diverged from the original in more ways than one.

Perhaps there wasn’t enough time to prepare the remains or souls of such powerful beings, given that the Heaven’s Wall was being destroyed six times faster than in the original.

It’s something I don’t want to acknowledge, but have no choice but to accept.

I was fighting the Great’s Twelve Knights.

Albeit slightly degraded copies compared to the originals due to the constraints of Heaven’s Wall, and with inferior equipment.

—-

With each swing of my sword, each movement of my body, explosive sounds of air being torn apart rang out in this supersonic battle.

POOK.

After continuing this for nearly ten minutes, I finally reached my limit.

“Ah, right. I really… really can’t take this anymore.”

Not the limit of my strength, but the limit of my patience.

“Let’s see this through to the end.”

I muttered through gritted teeth, looking down at the spear that had pierced my thigh.

“Hey, Demian.”

I turned slightly toward Demian and warned him, gathering what little rationality I had left.

“Uh, wait, Haschal…?”

Perhaps sensing something ominous was about to happen, Demian, who had been keeping his distance, responded with a trembling voice.

He was still casting healing miracles, apparently having suffered more internal injuries than I’d realized.

Did that bastard take my instruction to heal himself and join me literally, and was he trying to completely heal every single wound before rejoining?

Well, it doesn’t matter now.

“Put up a barrier. And get as far away as possible. Now, immediately.”

A one-sided command. I had no intention of waiting for a response.

I roughly swung Durandal, imbued with the power of severance, forcing the three phantom knights to retreat, then opened my right hand and placed it on the ground as I spoke.

“Let’s see if you can withstand this, you dead old ghosts.”

Killing intent erupted. All the remaining power of Karma of Murder was sucked into the rune on my wrist.

Hersella’s voice, asking in confusion what I was doing, vanished like a mirage.

GOOOOOOO!

The rune mark, unsatisfied with just the power of Karma of Murder, greedily devoured all the mana around it.

The mana stored in the mark. The mana flowing majestically through the air. The power contained in the dragon’s core that I had swallowed… and something else dwelling within me.

All of it.

GUUUUUNG…!

The rune mark, reaching its limit, glowed with a heavy resonance.

My wrist felt so hot it seemed about to melt and break. The scales of my armor heated up and creaked in agony from the preliminary heat seeping out.

I bared my fangs and roared like a frenzied beast.

“Burn, burn everything to ashes!”

[ᚲ]

Kenaz.

Flames of karmic fire ignited using all my power except my achievements.

A blood-red sun devoured the earth.