Chapter 349. Breaking Through the Veil (3)

Halo let out a small sigh as he watched the moons fall in the distance, thinking,

So he's not even trying to hide it anymore.

The bloodline of the Ducal Family of Leston had no connection to the moon. That symbol belonged to the Imperial Guards, who were sworn to serve the emperor, the sun.

And now, the Imperial Guards dispatched with the expedition were beginning to stir.

Halo wondered if anyone could really call that swordsmanship.

After a moment of thought, he shook his head then remarked, "He seems more like a mage than a knight now. Don't you agree, Zerath?"

"I heard he received personal instruction from you, my lord," Zerath replied.

"Yes, I did instruct him. Though... Can you even call it instruction? Do you know what that brat said to me while testing out that technique?" Halo asked.

"...No, I do not," Zerath answered.

"He said, 'Sufficiently refined swordsmanship is indistinguishable from magic.' That's the nonsense he spouted," Halo snapped.

His words were gruff, but his face betrayed a hint of pride.

Zerath, who had served him for a long time, recognized the subtle change in expression with ease. He wasn't sure when, but the way Halo looked at Caron had shifted.

At first, it was the fond gaze of a grandfather watching an admirable grandson. But now... it was different. A friend. Yes, Halo now looked at him as if he were a friend.

Zerath noticed how much their relationship had changed, but he made no comment. Apart from him and Butler Heinrich, very few would be able to ever pick up on such nuances.

"The name of the technique is simple," Halo said. "It's the Falling Moon, because he drops moons from the sky."

"The Imperial Guards are in shock. Especially Dame Amy," Zerath remarked.

He subtly pointed toward Amy Altura, one of the Imperial Guards knights sponsored by the Ducal Family of Leston. Amy had been considered a strong candidate for the next Knight Commander, yet now her face was flushed as she stared at the dozens of moons Caron had summoned.

The spectacle was beautiful enough to steal the breath from anyone watching, a beauty so deadly it drew eyes as much as it instilled dread. Perhaps it was the power Caron had absorbed from the Demon King—but the moment those moons vanished from sight, the ground trembled with a massive impact.

It was a power almost impossible to believe.

Even with Caron's ascent to 9-Star, unleashing a technique on that scale had to have drained an immense amount of mana. Wide-area annihilation always demanded such a price.

Swordsmanship, after all, was never meant for mass killing. Large-scale battles relied on magic and magitech firepower. Knights, by contrast, were assassins and breakers, meant to strike at key points on the battlefield.

But Caron was unveiling techniques that even mages couldn't imitate. His power held knights and mages alike in thrall.

"It must be the Demon King's power at work," Halo said slowly. "Dozens of moons fell, but the earth only trembled three times."

"You mean to say... Was it an illusion?" Zerath asked.

"Caron is that kind of man. Whatever technique he develops, he weaves deception into it," Halo replied.

"That is not the blade of Leston," Zerath said.

"It hardly matters," Halo said. "That boy's sword belongs to no one. What matters is that we stand aside and watch the path he forges. It is not one anyone else could tread."

Zerath nodded in agreement. The Mad Dog of the Ducal Family of Leston had grown—and not only that, he'd become a warrior standing shoulder to shoulder with the strongest on the continent.

And yet, he wondered if Caron had changed since his youth. No. Caron was still relentless, still swinging his sword with more desperation and effort than anyone else. Now overwhelming talent met overwhelming effort, blazing brighter than ever.

As a fellow traveler on the path of the sword, Zerath knew Caron had reached heights utterly beyond him. But envy never touched him. Caron's sword was Caron's alone. It was a path he himself could never walk, only admire from afar.

"Are the knights ready?" Halo asked.

"They are. The holy steeds from the Holy Kingdom are prepared," Zerath reported with a nod.

"Good. Our role is to move swiftly and scatter the enemy's focus. Let the main force bleed; we will force openings in their fortress," Halo explained.

From gates around the fortress, demonic monsters and demons began to pour out.

The expedition's role was clear. While Caron's legion held the enemy head-on, they would break off and crush scattered forces, forcing the enemy to retreat northward.

"Apply enough pressure to both flanks," Halo ordered.

"We've placed 8-Star warriors on the left wing," Zerath confirmed.

"And the dwarves?" Halo asked.

"They are at work. The excavators brought from across the continent are digging already, with mages assisting. The dwarves say the soil is soft enough. The tunnels will be ready within four hours at most," Zerath replied.

The dwarves, masters of building cities underground, were unrivaled at digging. If even a small team could infiltrate and plant their special explosives, the enemy would suffer devastating losses.

Kwaaaang!

Kwaaang!

The expedition's bombardment crashed into the fortress, but violet flashes lit the sky, negating much of the damage.

Halo felt it then. This battle would claim more lives than any before.

Caron's main force had clashed with the fortress to the south. Scouts reported monsters massing on both the eastern and western sides, preparing to ambush the expedition. Their first prey was obvious.

The plan was clear: Swallow the detached forces, then rush to support the main army.

But one thing troubled Halo. He muttered, "If they held onto the fortress, they could bleed us far more. Why would Havoc do this?"

The flow of battle was unlike any ordinary siege. And the Demon King of Havoc wasn't the type to act without purpose.

"Does it trouble you?" Zerath asked.

"...It does. But I can't ignore the prey in front of me. Zerath, deploy the troops. We march," Halo declared.

"As you command," Zerath replied.

If they stepped back out of fear, they would achieve nothing. Pushing his unease aside, Halo gave the order.

As soon as Zerath relayed it to the expedition...

Kugugugu!

The paladins of the Holy Kingdom, riding brilliant white steeds, surged forward at the vanguard.

And so the madness of war began to writhe across the battlefield.

***

As the main force of the expedition began to move, Caron and his companions, mounted on Gratia's back, unleashed their assault as if possessed by gods themselves.

"Burn to ash, you damned demons!"

Ifrit roared.

Orion had summoned Ifrit to display its majesty as the Spirit King of Fire.

Kwaaang!

Gratia exhaled a searing breath toward the fortress, and in perfect rhythm, Libre cast dark magic, cursing the demons with decay.

Dragon and Spirit King—when such transcendents combined their wide-area strikes, even a fortress forged with ancient techniques stood no chance. The citadel crumbled beneath their relentless fury.

Even Gratia, usually unshaken by emotion, spewed her rage without restraint.

Three hundred years ago, on the day the Demon Kings revealed themselves in the Demon Realm, they had swallowed that land whole and sought to cross the North Sea to devour the continent. Most of the dragons, once hailed as great beings, had perished holding the demons back.

Caron recalled the tale Gratia had once told him. Her willingness to obey his requests without protest stemmed from one reason only—revenge, a vengeance she had carried for centuries.

"All of us are just wretches who've lost something,"

Guillotine muttered with bitter humor.

Caron chuckled and asked, "What about Seria?"

"The Holy Kingdom lost its trust to a Demon King's scheme,"

Guillotine answered.

"And Orion?" Caron asked.

"Countless kin slaughtered,"

Guillotine replied.

"You?" Caron continued.

"My memories,"

Guillotine said.

"...And Libre?" Caron asked.

"Who cares about that dark mage bastard? Probably lost his manhood, if anything,"

Guillotine snapped.

Like blade, like owner, for it to crack a joke even now. And yet, Caron found himself fond of Guillotine's cynicism. Perhaps he teased the demonic sword often, but there was no other being who understood him so well.

"Let's hit them one more time," Caron suggested.

"Fine by me,"

Gratia said.

Grinning, Caron gazed at the massive crater left behind the fortress' wall.

It was the trace of Falling Moon, a new technique Caron had devised upon reaching 9-Star. Like the aftermath of a meteor strike, a colossal crater yawned in the earth.

"Looks as though you cast Meteor itself,"

Gratia remarked.

"Oh, that magic they say 9-Star mages can use? I'm different from them. Mages need rituals and preparations. Me? I don't," Caron replied.

He pulled a vial of World Tree dew from his pouch of dimensional space and downed it in a single gulp, wiping his lips casually with his sleeve.

Orion clicked his tongue at the sight and said, "The amount of dew you've drunk could've bought you a whole kingdom."

"And what would I do hoarding it? Better to save even one more life than cling to some worthless kingdom," Caron explained.

"...So that makes you a hero, is that it?" Orion asked.

"The more people we save, the greater the chance we kill the Demon King of Void," Caron answered.

Upon reaching 9-Star, Caron's vast ocean of mana transformed the dew instantly into Azure Mana. No need for lengthy preparations now—the immense flow simply merged into his core like waves absorbed by the ocean.

"This is what you call a glorious waste," he said with a crooked grin as he swung his sword.

A massive moon rose into the sky again. Unlike before, it wasn't many—just one, a colossal moon so vast it blotted out the heavens.

The surge drained a terrifying amount of mana from his core, yet Caron paid it no mind. Dark mana bled constantly from the demons, replenishing him ceaselessly.

"I'll never lose to demons," Caron declared.

The moon—brimming with murderous intent, a promise of extinction—fell upon the earth.

Kwaaaaaaang!

The atmosphere split, thunderous booms shattering the battlefield.

But then, a beam of black light lanced out from the fortress.

Kwaang!

The ray pierced straight through the moon. Cracks spread across its surface in an instant, webbing outward until the entire sphere threatened to shatter.

Craaack!

The grotesque sound of rending echoed across the battlefield.

Only one being held such destructive power.

"So there you are," Caron murmured.

It was the Demon King of Havoc. No doubt he was entrenched there, waiting.

Though the attack seemed easily nullified, Caron's grin didn't fade, He said, "Arrogant to the end. But a Demon King is still just a Demon King."

The moment the cracks engulfed the moon, he snarled, "Eat this."

Kwaaaaaang!

The moon exploded, its contents bursting free.

Azure Mana poured down from the heavens like a waterfall. Waves imbued with shards of moonlight descended, becoming blades that crashed upon the earth.

Like thousands of lances plunging from the sky, the storm struck without mercy.

Screeeeech!

Demons and demonic monsters shrieked as they were torn apart, ripped to pieces in the flood. Walls already weakened from earlier strikes collapsed like sand.

It was destruction at its most grotesque. Caron's hatred had birthed a calamity too cruel to describe.

Blood of the demonkin drenched the ground. The fortress walls ran red, and those barely clinging to life groaned in agony.

"And yet your body holds after such a technique?"

Gratia asked.

Caron raised his hand lightly, and Seria sighed, channeling holy power into him.

"I stocked up plenty of dew for this moment. The glorious waste isn't over yet," Caron said as he smirked, then and gulped another vial and exhaled deeply.

His new techniques demanded enormous mental strain, but their power was unmatched—perfect to mark the beginning of a war.

"This is the moment I've dreamed of," he whispered.

"Such a dreadful technique, O oath-bearer. Beware. Murderous intent devours the soul. Rael once succumbed, and you may—"

Gratia began, but was cut off.

"Now you sound like an old nag. Don't worry. My mind is clearer than ever," Caron interrupted.

If he were destined to be consumed by killing intent, it would have happened long ago.

Eyes gleaming, he surveyed the battlefield.

"Are we finally beginning the siege?" Orion asked.

Caron blinked as though Orion had said something ridiculous. He replied, "Of course not. I still have five more bottles of dew left. Besides, the defensive barrier just fell. If we charge in now, what's the point? No—we'll hit, retreat, and bleed them slowly. Think nastier, Orion. This way, they'll truly lose their minds."

On this battlefield, honor had no place. Caron would gladly fight dirty if it meant saving even one more life.

"Let's show that bastard who's fouler," he added.

"...What?" Orion muttered.

"I promise you—I'm a bastard worse than him. Hehe," Caron said.

And with that, the warrior laughed like a devil himself.

A stage had been prepared for the Mad Dog.

The leash was broken. It was time for the hound to run wild.