Chapter 123

Count Brandenburg, the Holy Knight, was a formidable foe. Even the current Dale could not guarantee victory if they faced him in a fair and square battle. But not all battles in this world were fought ‘fair and square’.

Following the oath of the Holy Sword, the knight thrust his blade into the man’s heart. Yet, even then, the man did not die.

The most noble sword in the world sacrificed itself to protect the most vile being in the world.

The sword imbued with the blessing of the goddess Sistina. The relic of the first White Tower Master, who brought the Holy Sword Knight to this very place.

The holy sword shattered, and at the same time, he suffered a fatal wound that made continuing the battle impossible. Even though it had blocked a fatal blow that would have pierced his heart, he could not escape the shock.

“I will never, ever forgive you…!”

Despite injuries severe enough to prevent further combat, the Pig King charged forward.

There was no blade in his hand. He had become the beast itself, charging forward—a figure no longer worthy of being called a ‘Holy Knight’.

Using the boar’s vicious tusks as weapons, he rapidly closed the distance.

Simultaneously, Dale swung the jet-black demon sword ‘Hunger’, and the shadow cloak synchronized with him, fluttering as it unleashed a barrage of pitch-black blades.

A hail of blades, born from the shadows along the cloak’s hem, shot forth like bullets.

The pitch-black blades cloaked in the darkness of the cursed sword ‘Hunger’ rained down like bombs. The boar let out a scream.

“Kweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

It wasn’t a human scream. The sound of a pig being slaughtered echoed through the air.

‘This is clearly not a situation where normal combat can continue.’

Even if it was only thirty percent of his full power as a holy knight… no, even less than that would be no exaggeration.

But the 《King of Pigs》, consumed by rage and stripped of reason, paid no heed.

He charged like a beast, heedless of the pitch-black blades tearing through his flesh and plunging endlessly downward. The distance closed. His fangs, jutting like horns, were about to slam into Dale when—

“Now.”

Dale whispered softly. Simultaneously, the sword guarding him from the shadows finally revealed itself.

Lady Shadow.

The sword that had once suffered a crushing defeat before the ‘King of Pigs’ and lost its kingdom was now swung against the charging 《King of Pigs》.

The avatar with brilliant gold and angelic wings, like back then, was nowhere to be seen.

There stood only the pitch-black Valkyrie. The maiden of war, said to possess a beauty and cruelty beyond compare. The black-and-blood Valkyrie, crimson bloodstains layered over her black armor.

The crimson aura blade, reborn through the teachings of the blood sword, was no exception.

The assassin’s blade, a blend of black and crimson, swung toward the charging boar’s tusks.

“Kueeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Once again, the world’s most hideous scream echoed.

Leaving behind the sound of a pig’s throat being slit, Lady Shadow and Dale simultaneously leapt into the air.

Before long, it was no longer a fight. It was merely an act of hunting a wild boar that was raging uncontrollably.

Aiming for the wild boar’s blind spot as it thrashed, the jet-black Valkyrie plunged her blood-stained sword down. Never forgetting the humiliation and shame the “King of Pigs” had inflicted upon her long ago.

Swoosh!

The boar’s leather armor tore apart helplessly, the blood-stained sword plunging deep. Just as Aurelia swung her blade to sever its neck…

“That’s enough.”

Dale reached out and stopped Aurelia. Her sword froze in mid-air, just as the boar, refusing to yield, lunged toward her with bared tusks.

“Black Barrel, ‘Gatling Mode’.”

Countless shadow bullets poured down along the black barrel. They struck the Pig King, who was desperately, pitifully, and beast-like, making his final, futile struggles.

Kwoong!

His immense, heavy frame collapsed to its knees. Yet even that was not enough to bring death.

The avatar had been deactivated, and Count Brandenburg, covered in wounds, stood there.

Leaving behind armor shattered into pieces, the ‘former holy knight’ kneels weakly.

“Ah, ahh…”

In despair that felt like losing everything in the world, he let out a weak moan.

At the end of his moan, his arm moved. With unbelievable swiftness. He grabbed a sharp piece of broken stone lying scattered on the floor and thrust it downward.

Not at an enemy, but at his own throat.

And before that, the shadow at his feet shot up like a spear.

“Aaaaaah!”

“Did you think you could die so easily?”

Tearing through and pinning down his palm as he moved to take his own life, Dale continued.

“That can’t be.”

“You… you bastard…!”

“According to imperial tradition, Count Brandenburg will survive unscathed.”

Dale sneered in an exceedingly polite tone, as if to say he couldn’t simply let him die so easily.

“After all, as a ‘prisoner of the House of Lancaster,’ he will receive the respectful treatment befitting his status.”

Killing him outright wasn’t necessarily the best solution. Even if he was the object of a hatred bordering on obsession, it made no difference.

Simultaneously, screams echoed through the air.

The screams of the Knights of Saint Magdalene echoed from afar.

“Are you curious about what’s happening to them right now?”

Dale sneered coldly at the irresistible holy sword.

“Not a single Knight of Saint Magdalene here will survive.”

“……!”

“And as for you, Holy Knight… no, you weren’t a Holy Knight anymore, were you?”

Having said that much, Dale mocked him calmly. Count Brandenburg’s face twisted once more.

“A defeated commander who, along with his son, repeatedly ruined the precious Knights of Saint Magdalena only to be captured as a pitiful prisoner. Truly, like father, like son.”

Count Brandenburg thrashed about as if his heart were being torn out by the mockery, but before long, Lady Shadow and the other high-ranking assassins of the Shadow Court had him bound.

“Cut every tendon.”

Dale spoke coldly, without a hint of hesitation.

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Blades descended in unison. The gears that allowed a man to move as a man were being torn apart, one by one.

At the ankles, wrists, fingers, shoulders—the gears interlocking flesh and flesh were removed without exception.

The empire’s proud war hero, the Holy Knight, no longer existed. Only a pitiful, flailing cripple remained.

Dale’s expression as he watched him held not a shred of emotion.

He merely contemplated the fate of the House of Brandenburg—how they would lose their prized knights, lose the sacred sword, and walk the path of ruin.

As his father, the Black Count, had said, preparing for death was easier than one might think. Because it meant escaping all the pain that weighed him down and finding freedom.

And as long as one lives, suffering never ends easily.

That day, he recalled the agony of the holy sword thrust into his chest from behind.

I couldn’t bear to wait to tell him the truth, to see his face contorted in agony as he struggled in misery.

But the time was not yet right. He had lost everything in this world, fallen into the deepest pit, and now contemplated the path of ruin he and his family would walk.

The hell the Count of Brandenburg would endure had only just begun.

Around that time. Before the isolated Knights of St. Magdalena in the city streets, the man revealed himself.

An unknown, chilling aura settled over them, and several knights with keen senses immediately turned their heads.

Swoosh!

The moment he thought to turn his head, his neck was severed clean off.

His head was severed, and blood spurted out in gushes. Only then did the spattering blood reveal the form of that killing intent. It was wire—hardened steel wire possessing an absurdly sharp cutting edge.

The moment he grasped its true nature, the blood-soaked wire lashed out again.

Indiscriminate threads of death lashed out toward the isolated cavalry unit maintaining formation.

“Swords! Draw your swords!”

The Ogre Masters, grasping its meaning, assumed combat stances, and the knights under their command were no exception.

Death threads swirling like spiderwebs, connecting every corner.

It was the web spun by the high-ranking assassins of the ‘Shadow Court’, hiding throughout the city. Each assassin became a point connecting the web, linking one to another. As the web moved, it shattered the invincible defensive stance.

Blood-red threads fluttered everywhere, severing their necks and limbs with each strike.

The exquisitely coordinated assault of the elite assassins. Assuming all conditions aligned perfectly, it was a day capable of unleashing the ultimate lethal force.

At the same time, a man stood blocking the path of the Knights of Saint Magdalene.

“Huh, Shyphul. Can you really call killing all the witnesses in broad daylight assassination?”

The Sword of Death twirled the hilt of his blade in his hand and laughed.

“……”

When the Sword of the Ear, Sephelia, arrived in the small town of Fortnum with her ‘Iron Cross Knights’ to aid the Holy Sword’s cavalry.

The situation had already concluded.

The city lay shattered beyond recognition, its ruins forming a natural barricade, within which a literal slaughterhouse unfolded.

“……It’s the Shadow Assassins’ formation.”

“Are you referring to the assassins of the Shadow Court?”

“Yes.”

The moment she saw that figure, the sword-eared Sefilia murmured softly. It was the correct answer.

The judicial enforcers of Guild City, and simultaneously the successors of the ‘Shadow Church’ who had melted into the city’s darkness to evade the White Tower.

“Why are they helping the House of Lancaster in a place like this?”

Even though it was a one-sided massacre unfolding, the Knights of Saint Magdalene weren’t the sort to take such a beating without a fight. At least, not in a battle fought ‘fair and square’.

However, this city was not their home turf; it was a surprise attack they hadn’t anticipated, and in a sense, it was no exaggeration to call it the worst possible ambush imaginable.

Yet one question remained unanswered.

Even if they had fallen into their trap, wasn’t the one commanding them the Holy Sword, one of the Seven Swords of the Continent?

The fact that not even the Holy Sword’s form was visible. As someone unaware of Dale’s Geas, this was one thing she could surmise.

Another extraordinary power confronting an extraordinary power.

“Surely not that Sword of Death bastard…”

After muttering that much, the sword spirit, Sephelia, did not hesitate.

“I will return to the marquisate immediately and report the situation.”

Why they were moving here on behalf of the Lancaster family was unclear. Yet, she wasn’t entirely without a vague notion.

“Surely not…”

She recalled the Saxon family’s ‘Black Prince’ she had witnessed at Lancaster Castle that day.

There was no certainty. She simply knew. What the Saxon Duke’s house had sent was not merely a few hundred Night Crow Knights or several high-ranking dark mages.

The Shadow Court, hailed as the continent’s foremost assassin organization, is now aligned with that very ‘Black Prince’.