Saint King (Holy King)

+++

Early that morning, Doyun received an urgent visitor.

Archmage Undying delivered the dire report with a grave expression:

“An unprecedented scale of invasion has commenced.”

Doyun nodded grimly, the war his instincts had been forewarning finally arriving.

“Survivors are extremely scarce, and their mental states alarmingly unstable, hampering detailed assessment… However, five days have elapsed since the invasion began, and numerous fortresses along the direct path towards Muspelheim’s capital, including Metapolis Fortress itself, have fallen. The enemy has already breached halfway through our frontline defenses.”

“…I see.”

Truly an astonishingly rapid advance rate – cause for utter consternation.

The five-day delay in ascertaining these developments likely stemmed from the vanguard bases being instantly overwhelmed without any opportunity to send word.

Drawing from centuries battling these foes, Doyun roughly estimated the enemy’s strength.

Such overwhelming firepower undoubtedly included Vanguard Generals among their forces.

‘If the survivors’ mental states prove so unstable…’

Then that one – or that thing – had definitely participated.

“Hence, an emergency Paladin Council has been convened.”

“I wish to attend as well.”

Doyun had continuously sensed this war’s sheer abnormality, culminating in this climactic eruption.

The enemy now rapidly advanced at a frightening pace, undoubtedly including Vanguard Generals among their ranks – though the Alliance likely remained unaware of that dire reality.

This constituted a war demanding Doyun’s direct involvement without question.

‘I may not be a Paladin yet, but…’

Given his established influence, requesting attendance hardly represented an outrageous imposition.

However, Archmage Undying’s response defied Doyun’s expectations:

“The motion to include Sir Enoch has already passed unanimously.”

“…Already?”

As Doyun furrowed his brow quizzically, the Archmage elaborated:

The vote had achieved full consensus – four in favor.

“Pardon?”

Only four total votes?

Himself, Heineken, Bruder, Lei…

“…Why is the council so understaffed?”

“Elizabeth remains out of contact, and the Lion King continues secluding himself.”

Regarding Elizabeth’s situation as unmentionable, he referred to it as ‘out of contact’ even before Doyun – Archmage Undying’s pragmatism remained resolute as ever.

“And the Saint King?”

“Well, about him…”

The Archmage hesitated momentarily before replying:

“The Saint King has refused to attend.”

“…For what reason?”

The Paladin Council represented the Alliance’s supreme governing body where all paramount figures convened – its utmost authoritative summit.

Yet for a Paladin of comparable might to the Lion King himself to abstain during such dire circumstances on the eve of total war…

While urgency gripped the situation, an imminent cataclysmic conflict loomed.

“Such is the Saint King’s way. The very reason he bears that ‘Holy King’ epithet – he solely prioritizes his own nation above all else.”

“…He declined to leave on grounds of national defense?”

“Precisely. He never departs his realm unless attending Paladin Councils – Labyrinthe’s defense exists solely through his presence, after all. While this Council has been called, he deemed the current situation too precarious and abstained to safeguard his kingdom’s welfare.”

Doyun sensed an oncoming migraine – so that constituted this ‘Wisest King’s’ mentality.

Not that he could condemn such rationale – just as Doyun’s and the Lion King’s absolute priorities lay with the Alliance’s welfare, the Saint King’s sole prerogative concerned Labyrinthe itself. Any sincere conviction deserved respect.

Yet Doyun could not help but feel perturbed by his stance.

‘Of all people…’

The Saint King especially should have prioritized the Alliance given his unique circumstances.

Doyun’s clenched fist tightened with audible creaks as his dragonscale gauntlet strained.

“For the time being, the Paladin Council shall convene with only five participants – naturally including high command advisors and dignitaries, but still.”

“The Paladin roster differs not at all from our usual intimate circle, it seems.”

“…My apologies.”

He could bypass Elizabeth’s absence as Doyun’s judgment call.

Yet for two of the Alliance’s purported strongest to abstain – before the very founder Enoch who had enabled this unification…

Archmage Undying could only lament this underwhelming state of affairs.

Doyun contemplated this soberly:

‘A battle without the Lion King or Saint King present…’

Through his experiences, Doyun could roughly gauge an opponent’s might.

Given the overwhelming advance speed coupled with the survivors’ disturbed mental states…

He soon reached his grim conclusion:

‘It’s impossible.’

They could not possibly win this war.

+++

“You truly will not attend?”

Doyun shook his head as he boarded the carriage.

“In any case, this Paladin Council spans two separate phases, does it not? I shall attend the second convening.”

This Paladin Council unfolded across two phases.

Doyun clearly anticipated the first phase’s discussions from the outset.

His estimated scope of this enemy force proved utterly demoralizing – likely decisive in determining the Alliance’s very survival.

And against such overwhelming might, the Alliance could realistically only pursue a single viable recourse.

Rather than participating in such predictable proceedings, Doyun chose an alternate path.

“Instead, I shall meet with the Saint King himself.”

This war demanded mustering the Alliance’s full might without exception – the Saint King’s participation proved imperative.

“…I understand your intentions, but it will prove a waste of time.”

Situated directly behind the frontline nation of Rockenmeyer itself, Labyrinthe would become imperiled should Rockenmeyer fall.

Hence, whenever war erupted, the Saint King absolutely refused to leave his kingdom – Labyrinthe’s defense essentially personified his very existence.

The sole instances where he departed involved attending Paladin Councils or Rockenmeyer’s immediate vicinity coming under attack itself.

As one of the Alliance’s two paramount powerhouses, not even the Lion King’s words could sway the Saint King’s conviction to defend his nation.

His beliefs centered solely around Labyrinthe and its people.

In other words, he would not leave during this invasion either – Doyun held no chance of persuading him if the Lion King himself could not.

While inwardly regretting the circumstances, Archmage Undying attempted dissuading Doyun:

‘If convincing him were possible, it would prove invaluable, but…’

Such remained an impossibility – the Saint King had never once abandoned his nation throughout history.

Yet Doyun boarded the carriage undeterred.

“I shall return later then.”

The carriage departed.

+++

Traveling through the wastelands by carriage, Doyun recalled Archmage Undying’s words:

‘With war underway, the Saint King will have likely sealed Labyrinthe’s borders by now.’

Though a small nation, Labyrinthe remained formidably fortified.

Its diminutive size paradoxically bolstered its defenses by enabling complete encirclement with towering walls while achieving 100% self-sufficiency across food, industry and resources.

Hence, Labyrinthe could theoretically endure indefinite sieges through such self-reliance.

Even during Enoch’s era, Labyrinthe had retained this redoubtable national integrity, yet paled compared to its current pinnacle – the culmination of the Saint King’s reign.

Not just sheer military might, but revered as Labyrinthe’s greatest sovereign throughout its history – hence his ‘Holy King’ appellation.

Doyun felt genuinely intrigued learning about this Saint King firsthand.

‘A martial arts prodigy born to Labyrinthe’s royal bloodline.’

Labyrinthe’s populace belonged to the ‘Monkeykings’ – a race tracing their ancestry back to the Simian King of primordial myth.

Famed for their extraordinary physical prowess alongside staunch patriotism and loyalty to nation and monarch.

Even the peerless Hecreaux himself, history’s most formidable physique, had hailed from Labyrinthe’s Monkeyking lineage.

‘Come to think of it, I had completely forgotten that detail about him too.’

Never discriminating based on origin or royalty, Hecreaux had simply embodied a free spirit.

Coincidentally, the Saint King was also said to:

‘Practice the Hecreaux style of martial arts.’

This formed another key reason Doyun sought him out.

Back in the Cradle, a combat trainer had remarked how Doyun’s Hecreaux style resembled ‘the Saint King’s distinct martial arts’. Lei too had recently voiced similar impressions.

Of course, few realized the Saint King’s arts represented the authentic Hecreaux style itself – esoteric knowledge unknown to the wider world.

‘Does the Saint King himself realize it?’

If aware of his fighting style’s true origins, why had he never openly proclaimed inheriting Hecreaux’s legitimate legacy? The authority and prestige would prove immense.

‘…It doesn’t sit well with me.’

Doyun’s eyes narrowed as his fingers dug grooves into the carriage armrest with an audible creak.

‘Hecreaux had hoped his eventual disciple would rise to continental renown someday.’

Hence Doyun harbored an innate resentment towards the Saint King from the outset.

How he had inherited the Hecreaux style mattered less in this context.

What concerned Doyun centered around why the Saint King actively concealed this connection instead.

Moreover, unlike Hecreaux who had championed the Alliance’s cause, his dismissive indifference during this crisis proved equally vexing.

Not that Doyun faulted prioritizing one’s nation – he respected such convictions wholehea

rtedly.

Yet to wield Hecreaux’s very power as the means of upholding that patriotic belief, only to disregard the Alliance’s plight despite claiming that spiritual inheritance…

Hecreaux would undoubtedly lament such hypocrisy himself.

‘I evidently need to have words with his disciple.’

And if they could not see eye-to-eye?

If he scorned Hecreaux’s legacy while refusing to aid the Alliance?

‘…Then I may have no choice.’

Given the dire time constraints, should the Saint King arbitrarily decline cooperation, no options for compulsion would remain.

However, as Enoch Razvolnic:

The esteemed elder statesman who had profoundly shaped the Hecreaux style’s evolution.

As Hecreaux’s closet, dearest friend in life.

As a paternal mentor figure deserving the Saint King’s utmost filial piety…

‘A few thrashings may be warranted.’

With his tendency to become emotionally compromised when old ties resurfaced, Doyun seemed unlikely to simply let this matter lie.

Clenching and unclenching his fist, the dragonscale gauntlet emitted soft metallic scrapes – not the crude knuckle-cracking of some street thug, but a restrained, smoldering intensity.

+++

Yet another fallen vanguard fortress.

Amidst the blazing inferno consuming the ruined defenses, one knight whirled his blade.

Shiiing-

The razor-sharp edge cleaved not mere air, but the very ‘zone’ itself.

“Hmm.”

The last vermin exterminated.

Shaking the blade clean, the knight nodded his head – no, his helmet – in evident satisfaction.

As that knight sheathed his weapon, an Imp approached with pumpkin-like eyes that abruptly shifted crimson before speaking in an unnatural grating rasp:

[Ah ah, mic check.]

Some other entity had hijacked the Imp’s body to communicate.

“You’re coming through loud and clear.”

[Stop fucking around, dumbass. Our watchers on the other side got suspicious thanks to those strays you missed yesterday.]

“How uncouth.”

Ignoring the Imp’s taunts, the fully-armored knight turned towards the assembled troops amidst the ruined fortress.

Countless Imps gorged themselves there, rending and devouring corpses amidst the raging fires.

“Advancing undetected to this staging point alone represents a momentous achievement. Do not grow impatient – our ultimate victory remains assured regardless.”

These Imps displayed strikingly different appearances compared to their earlier Rockenmeyer invasion – hideously grotesque musculatures further engorged and exuding far thicker miasmas of malefic corruption.

Above all, their bulging pumpkin-like eyes burned intensely with wanton lust, crimson and bloodshot, while unmistakable girths protruded obscenely from between their hindquarters.

An unsettling sight that would seem hardly ‘normal’ even for pits

crawling soul-scavengers from Hell’s deepest bowels.

The red-eyed Imp followed tauntingly:

[So you’re certain none got away this time? No more strays?]

“Of course.”

The knight tilted his oversized helmet proudly with an unnatural, hollow metallic creak.

“Not a single living soul escaped my ‘sphere of dominance’.”

[That whole zone obsession of yours is just creepy as fuck.]

“…It represents the path trodden by history’s greatest swordmaster.”

Turning to regard the Imp with feigned solemnity:

“Pay the Sword Saint proper respect, Satan.”

The entity puppeteering that Imp – one of the current Vanguard Generals serving the Demon Lord’s forces.

[Don’t look down on me, bitch.]

The Archfiend (Greater Demon) Satanas himself.

[And it’s Sword Emperor, not whatever dumbfuck “Sword Saint” title you just made up, numbnuts.]

“I am well aware – I too crossed blades with him a century ago. ‘Sword Saint’ merely represents my personal appellation for him.”

[And who the fuck are you?]

The knight halted his steps.

“I.”

Viscous miasma began seeping through the joints of his armor.

As if awaiting that very question.

The helmet hovering where his head had been severed a century ago by that very Paladin tilted slightly.

“Am the one who has been reborn.”

Having reclaimed the power he had so coveted in life – a current Vanguard General.

He intoned with supreme self-assurance:

“This era’s Sword Emperor.”

The dreaded Death Knight, Lancelot himself.