Chapter 470 |
Outside Three Mountains City, corpses carpeted the land.
The city, built upon a solitary peak, loomed like an immovable fortress. Three concentric layers of walls coiled around the mountainside like colossal serpents, and fragmented defensive barriers flickered across every battlement.
Without abyssal beasts—those monsters capable of crushing magical arrays—the demon army could only rely on endless tides of expendable troops, throwing flesh and blood against the barriers piece by piece, advancing slowly and brutally.
Fifteen focused intently on the battlefield. Judging from the fact that the outer wall had not fully fallen yet, this assault must have begun only a few days prior.
His gaze swept across the various fronts, searching for an area where the fighting was relatively mild—someplace he could slip through and return to the city unseen.
Then he glanced at the puji beside him.
For some reason, the puji who had been clamoring all journey long about “slaughtering everything in sight” now sat slumped on the ground, tendrils drooping, short legs limp, as if moments away from curling up into a ball.
Fifteen placed the mind-communication stone against its mushroom cap. “What’s wrong with you? Low on mana?”
“I—I’m fine! Perfectly fine!” the puji insisted, trying to stand. But its legs wobbled and it plopped right back down.
This reminded him of new recruits during their first real battlefield drill.
“You’re not… unused to this kind of scene, are you?”
“Nonsense! I love battle more than anything!” Number Nine twisted its tendrils awkwardly. “It’s just… the ground is so bloody… kinda…”
Fifteen was speechless.
After all its boasting about fighting side by side, after raising alarms that this “Mushroom Clan” might be some violent, bloodthirsty intelligent species—
It turned out the little creature fainted at the sight of blood.
Seeing how deflated it was, Fifteen allowed it to climb back onto his head. He even tied its drooping tendrils into a knot under his chin, securing it like some bizarre puji-hat.
Fortunately, it was light enough not to slow him down.
No more delays—Fifteen was ready to make his move.
He had no intention of waiting for this wave of assault to end. Entering then would draw too much attention and might lure demon elites.
But in the chaos of the current battle, slipping in unnoticed was far easier.
With Number Nine perched atop his head, Fifteen circled toward the western flank of the battlefield.
The terrain there was treacherous and heavily modified for defense—difficult to attack. The demons clearly didn’t want to waste troops here, so the fighting was relatively sparse.
He pulled out a prepared spell scroll. A faint light flashed; his body distorted and reshaped. Scales spread across his skin, his spine stooped slightly, and in moments he became a lizardman soldier carrying a shield.
He merged into a scattered demon unit, lowering his posture and imitating a lizardman’s gait.
However, demon forces were no fools, and scroll-based disguises were far inferior to Edding’s fluid illusions.
Halfway through, an officer atop a massive rock-lizard seemed to notice something off.
He called out to Fifteen, preparing to investigate.
Fifteen struck first.
The officer raised his blade defensively, but he never expected Fifteen’s sheer strength. The steel blade shattered instantly—
and so did the skulls of both rider and mount.
Without pausing, Fifteen lunged forward. Before most demons realized what had happened, he pushed [Flowing Step] to its limit, his silhouette flashing through the chaos like a drifting shadow.
“Stop him!”
Shouts erupted from several directions. Arrows rained down. Magic glimmered in the air. Waves of demon soldiers surged toward him.
“Wild Slash!”
Countless wind-pressure blades exploded outward from his position. With the combined boost of [Breaker] and [Demon Slayer], the demons were shredded before they even had time to scream.
Through blood and carnage, Fifteen accelerated again.
But today was not his lucky day.
The commotion behind him caught the attention of Xenophon, who had just finished demolishing another barrier.
Blamed unjustly for the Storm Element Lord incident, Xenophon—an orcish duke—had been ordered by the prince to “redeem his failures” by dismantling the city’s defensive matrices.
The credit was great, but the job was exhausting, dangerous, and thankless.
And at the moment, Xenophon had no right to refuse.
After three days of assault, even with his tough hide and thick muscles, he was covered in dozens of wounds—and brimming with rage.
The moment he spotted Fifteen on the battlefield, he charged.
Fifteen quickly noticed the dust cloud rising behind him, the thunderous approach unmistakable.
In an instant, he understood—he wouldn’t make it to Three Mountains City before Xenophon reached him.
Xenophon couldn’t survive more than a few rounds against the Sword Saint—but that was the Sword Saint. Fifteen had no illusions about being able to face a duke.
Should he send the distress signal?
If he used it, the defenders inside the city would surely assist him.
But it would also expose a flaw—one that might cost lives.
If it were just him, he would never risk it.
But right now, his master’s life depended on him.
He reached for the signal—
And suddenly, a burst of multicolored spores sprayed from Number Nine’s mushroom cap. Fifteen inhaled most of it before he could react, coughing violently as his eyes watered.
“Nine, you—”
Before he could scold it, a surge of burning power flooded his limbs.
Fatigue washed away like receding tide.
His steps became light as air.
Even his grip on his sword throbbed with newfound strength.
Most miraculous of all—
Though his body pulsed with excitement, his mind sank into icy calm. His awareness of the battlefield sharpened dramatically.
“You’re… enhanced… Go… go…” Number Nine’s faint thoughts reached him.
Blood splashing and the jolting motion of battle had overwhelmed the blood-fainting puji, leaving it dizzy and barely conscious.
But it didn’t need to say more.
Fifteen instantly put away the signal device and charged toward the city with everything he had.
The sudden burst of speed caught Xenophon off guard. The orc duke roared, his massive hind legs kicking off the ground. His giant frame soared through the air, crossing the battlefield in a heartbeat, his spiked mace whistling down toward Fifteen’s back.
The blow struck half a step behind him, exploding the earth. Shards of stone battered Fifteen’s backplate like hail—but half a step was all he needed.
He slipped through the defender’s deliberately opened gap in the barrier.
By the time Xenophon shattered the array in fury, Fifteen had already vanished into the layered defenses of the city.
……
After a full day of battle, the bloodborn prince Vissarius received the report that Fifteen had broken through the lines and returned to Three Mountains City.
As a Sanctum-tier Sword Saint’s disciple, Fifteen was no nameless soldier.
In fact, Xenophon recognized him instantly—that was why he pursued him so fiercely.
The blood noble Ern bowed and said, “My lord, for the Sword Saint’s disciple to risk entering the city at such a time, it cannot simply be to reinforce the defenses. I suspect he has found some method of curing the poison…”
The prince’s crimson eyes remained tranquil. “My blood poison is not so easily undone.”
As Ern was one of his closest aides, he naturally knew the origin of that poison.
Every century, the prince would select a “daughter” for the First Embrace, personally raising her. Then, at her hundredth birthday ritual, he would consume her according to an ancient rite.
The unique blood poison was a byproduct of that forbidden ceremony—one known to very few even among the bloodborn.
If not for that poison, the Sword Saint—who survived the ambush—would likely have already recovered, leapt back into the battlefield, and chased them while roaring the only two curses he knew in demon-tongue.
But with the recent string of unpredictable incidents, Ern had no choice but to speak boldly.
“My lord, forgive my impertinence, but recently… there have simply been too many unexpected developments.”
Vissarius’s gaze turned sharp and cold. The weight of his bloodline’s oppressive aura froze Ern in place.
Only after a long silence—long enough for Ern to start trembling—did the prince withdraw his gaze and pat his shoulder.
“Good. You dare to speak. That is why you are valued. There have been too many surprises lately. One or two more would not be unusual.
That is why I have already made additional arrangements. There is no need to worry.”
Ern finally relaxed. Since the prince had prepared countermeasures, he dared not say more.
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