novelraw Chapter 248: Abyssal Holy War – Final Resistance (7)
Chapter 248: Abyssal Holy War – Final Resistance (7)
Chapter 248. Abyssal Holy War – The Final Resistance (7)
“Haa, haa…”
Kroxx gasped for breath.
Every time his massive body heaved with a breath, liquid fell with a splatter.
Even Kroxx himself didn't know how much of it was sweat and how much was blood.
His powerful, muscular body, once his pride, was now covered in countless stab wounds.
“Your momentum just now was impressive...”
Kroxx glared at Baal, who looked as composed as if nothing had happened.
“As expected of an inferior life form.”
Once they could no longer procure humans from Francia, they started gathering the races of the Iberian Peninsula as materials for Drones.The one who had proposed this was the demon before him.
Kroxx struggled to suppress his boiling rage, catching his breath.
Meanwhile, the wounds all over his body were slowly healing.
Witnessing this sight, Baal remarked bluntly.
“Indeed, the Saintess's protection. A bit troublesome.”
Kroxx bared his fangs.
-Uhahaha, the Saintess's protection? I don't need such a thing! Tell the Saintess Queen to help others! I believe in our god!
-No. Still, I'd like you to accept it, brother. When an unforeseen situation arises, you're the only one who can hold that demon back, even for a moment. This is our consideration, wanting to help you even a little.
It was a great fortune that he had pretended to give in to his brother's plea back then.
Kroxx, who had never met anyone who could even fight him on equal terms, found it utterly unbelievable.
That he, the greatest warrior of Iberica, could do nothing more than avoid fatal wounds.
Without the Saintess Queen's protection, he might have already fallen.
In the meantime...
“Tch, these guys aren't easy, ugh-aaak!”
Kroxx glanced to the side and saw Shandra, after attacking with a somersault, block a demon's sword strike and get sent flying.
“Kugh…!”
Karok, too, could do nothing more than groan and hold on.
Baal's Imperial Guard was more than living up to the name of Pride.
Before these foes that even his confidants struggled against, both the Revolutionary Army and the Brothers of Iberica were being swept away.
On top of that, Drones poured in endlessly, preventing them from focusing their attacks.
“Don't fall back! Keep fighting!”
Even Nicolas Nere of the vanguard was struggling, but it was inevitable that they were gradually being pushed back.
Besides...
“Let's wrap this up.”
As Kroxx was catching his breath, Baal turned his back to attack the allied forces.
“Where do you think you're going!”
Kroxx immediately charged—
The axe he swung with both hands was blocked by one of Baal's swords, and the other sword immediately aimed for his neck.
“Oof!”
He dodged hastily, but Baal's sword still drew a trickle of blood across his neck.
A fraction later and his head would have been severed.
And yet, if he didn't face him, Baal would slaughter the Allied Forces, so he was forced to continue a fight where he had to risk his life with every exchange.
“This changes nothing. It will only end with your death.”
Baal's words held the simple truth, but Kroxx burst out laughing.
“Uahahahaha….”
As Baal narrowed his brow for the first time, Kroxx grinned, baring his fangs.
“Isn't it already changing, demon?”
“Hm?”
Baal was bewildered.
And soon, he realized that the advance of the Drones—which until a moment ago had been swarming into the enemy position, looking as if they would collapse the defense line alongside his Imperial Guard at any second—had stopped.
*
“Giddy-up, giddy-up!”
The vibration of hooves kicking the ground, traveling through the horse's legs and body.
The refreshing wind met while galloping at high speed.
“W-what?”
“How did these primitive human bastards get this far!”
“Haha! Take the sword of this primitive human, you high-and-mighty demon races!”
The sensation of a sword, swung with all that acceleration, digging into flesh, the feeling of resistance against it, and then the sense of liberation as it cut through.
From legs to waist, from hand to shoulder, and all the way to the head.
That electrifying thrill, the elation of battle, the excitement.
Jerome Morelle loved every one of those sensations he experienced on horseback.
“Yaaaaaaaah!”
“Long live Francia!”
Everyone, feeling the same as him, was charging with a courage bordering on recklessness, massacring the defenseless artillery corps in the enemy's rear.
They fully displayed the horsemanship skills and maneuver tactics they had honed as light cavalry through countless wars.
They had magnificently penetrated from the left flank, wreaked havoc in the center, and succeeded in infiltrating the rear.
“Haha, this is awesome! A cavalryman lives for the charge!”
Jerome Morelle cheered with joy and looked around.
“Whew- what a magnificent sight!”
Drones, Drones, Drones, Drones.
Chasing them as they maneuvered through the enemy position, Drones were swarming in from all directions.
What would his close friend, Raphael Valliant, have said if he saw this predicament?
Jerome Morelle gave a short laugh at his own absurd thought and looked at his subordinates, whose numbers had dwindled considerably.
In the process of the charge, quite a few cavalrymen had fallen.
Some were taken down by Drones, some were shot, some were hit by artillery fire, and some—well. Anyway, they died gloriously on the battlefield.
Most were fearless, wonderful light cavalrymen who died before they even turned 30.
Most of the subordinates beside him now, chasing down and putting stab wounds into the so-called 'superior' race of demons who were fleeing in panic, would probably meet the same fate.
Still, it was clear that thanks to them, the burden on the defense line had been greatly eased.
As the Drones' offensive, which had nearly broken through the defense line, was interrupted to chase after them, the crumbling defense line was rapidly being handled.
Jerome Morelle shouted in a cheerful voice.
“Chasseurs, you sons of bitches!”
He could even see demons in the distance, dragging machine guns.
“Yes, General-!”
Nevertheless, all the Chasseurs raised their cavalry sabers and answered in ear-splitting voices, and Jerome Morelle shouted with pride.
“You're all fucking cool guys! Fucking men, you bastards!”
“You're a fucking man too, General! Uahahahaha!”
No more words were needed.
Jerome Morelle and the Light Cavalry dashed madly back and forth amidst the Drones swarming from all directions, racing to kill even one more demon.
*
“Such, fools…”
Baal ground his teeth.
The situation was about to collapse with just a little more pressure, yet this was the sorry state they were in, being led around by a mere bait cavalry unit.
Meanwhile, the sight of the cavalry engaged on the flanks beginning to collapse also entered Baal's eyes.
The Demon Race is dignified.
Especially those who follow Baal's will, who are loyal and capable of sound judgment.
Yet they were being swayed and broken by these mere inferior races.
Even those who should possess pride and qualification were disgracing the name of 'Pride'.
All of it made Baal furious.
Baal readjusted his grip on the two swords in his hands and advanced.
“Kuuugh!”
With every step he took forward, the muscular orc took two steps back, and that many more wounds were carved into him.
It didn't matter.
Nothing would change with their pathetic attempts to buy time, or their worthless victories.
No matter how many demons were foolish and incompetent, unworthy of their qualification, even if they disappointed him.
He was here, the very self-esteem of the 'Pride' demon race.
Though few in number, his Imperial Guard was by his side, crushing these inferior races.
The most prideful, the most powerful, the most superior beings.
While dominating the orc before him, Baal gauged the distance to the axis of the grand magic they had deployed, the magic circle.
The Drones would return soon anyway, and trying to hastily handle a defense line that had already wavered would have its limits as long as he and his Imperial Guard were intact.
“Uooooooooh!”
Baal effortlessly parried the axe of the orc charging him, and at the same time swung his other sword, destroying a cannon that was preparing to fire in the distance.
The enemies' worthless guns posed no threat to him and his Imperial Guard.
Even the orc, which these inferior life forms had likely prepared as their strongest warrior, was powerless.
At this rate, it would take two hours at most to reach them.
Once he took the heads of the Saintess Queen and the Magic Tower Master, they would have no chance of winning.
A smile spread across Baal's lips as he finished his assessment.
In the end, it was just a matter of being a little faster or a little slower.
As long as they were here, the only thing permitted for those inferior races was a fate of despair and ruin.
“Prepare to fire!”
And so, Baal glanced at the newly appeared enemy infantry but paid them little mind.
He remembered that flag from a report.
The Revolutionary Guard, the elite unit of the Francia Army.
That was only by human standards; they posed no threat to him and his Imperial Guard.
Baal remembered this information not because it was important, but because he automatically memorized things just by receiving a report.
“Aim!”
Those inferior humans raised their muskets in unison, but Baal and his Imperial Guard naturally wrapped themselves in a magic barrier and focused on slaughtering the enemies before them.
“Fire!”
A volley of bullets rained down—
Crackle.
A sound that should never have been heard was heard.
“What?”
The magic barrier struck by the bullets collapsed in vain.
In the instant the bullets, emitting a white light, broke the barrier, Baal raised his swords and struck them away.
But his Imperial Guard, who were focused on other enemies, could not.
“Keoheok…!”
“Kahak!”
“Mere humans, what is this…!”
The Holy Theocracy's Consecrated Bullets.
The unconventional tactic of a surprise volley fire using ridiculously expensive bullets that mere common soldiers should never be able to use pierced the demons' arrogance.
“I-it worked!”
“W-we did it, we did it! This Master of Defense has done it again!”
In the moment everyone was filled with excitement, the orc shouted.
“Wipe them all out!”
As the magic barriers fell, the worthless inferior races charged at the Imperial Guard, who were groaning in pain from the bullets burning with Divine Power.
“Kuaaaak!”
“Baal, sir…!”
Humans, orcs, beastmen, and goblins charged in, ending their lives one by one.
Baal's pride.
The symbol of 'Pride'.
The beings who should have been the most prideful, the most powerful, and the most superior were vomiting blood, collapsing to the ground, writhing in agony as they met their end.
A flame sparked in Baal's eyes.
“How dare you!”
“Th-this is!”
Before Kroxx could even react, the mana that swirled and gathered on the two swords split the air.
*
Before I could even snap out of the satisfaction of having caught them off guard with the Consecrated Bullets.
A massive, purple sword energy flew, splitting the air.
“Uwaaaak!”
The members of the Revolutionary Guard who had raised a pathetic magic barrier before the flying sword energy by gathering what mana they had.
“U-uaaaaak! I'm going to die!”
The moment Damien De Millbeau, who had ducked down, covering his head, also faced an inescapable death.
“Please…!”
Feeling the aura of divine power seeping into my body along with Eris's desperate voice, I dashed like mad and leaped right in front of them.
BOOM!
Just from the impact, an insane pressure that could make one's mind go blank washed over my body.
“Ugh, ahh…!”
While resisting the feeling that the storm of mana, swirling madly, would crush my body, it felt as if all the mana and divine power in my body would be sucked out.
Still, I couldn't back down.
Christine's trust.
Eris's hope.
The weight of all those people who had fallen to endure until this very moment.
Was more than this.
It was far heavier than something like this.
“Aaaaaah!”
Wringing out all my strength, everything I had—
Slightly.
I lifted it just a tiny bit.
“Keohak!”
“His Excellency the Marquis!”
The moment Gaston rushed over and supported my body as I was sent flying completely backward.
The sword energy flew past, cleaving all the barracks slightly above our heads in half—
—and left a gash on the hill with a roar.
“Th-thanks, Gaston.”
I quickly got up, but my arms were trembling uncontrollably.
Damn it, after scraping the very bottom of the barrel, just slightly changing its trajectory was all I could do?
“How dare you, you worthless vermin…!”
But Baal, as if he still had strength left after unleashing such an insane sword energy, was in a frenzy, spewing mana from his eyes.
“Haha, shit.”
We somehow managed to rout that countless demonic cavalry and rushed to save the center army, but...
It's just one mountain after another.
What kind of monster is that?