A centurion roared with all the strength left in his throat.
“Hold the line. For humanity.”
He leapt high and brought his axe down into a troll’s eye socket. The troll howled, but its rage was not spent. It snatched the centurion in a single hand and smashed him against the cliff wall.
Before the troll could draw breath, several arrows shot in from the blind spot left by its missing eye and pierced through its skull.
The massive body swayed, then toppled backward, crushing several demon soldiers who failed to dodge in time.
At the narrow valley mouth, tactics had long since lost meaning. Humans and demons alike were locked in the most primitive, blood-soaked war of attrition.
Every inch of ground was soaked in blood. Severed limbs and broken corpses mixed together until nothing was distinguishable.
The sky above was no different.
Elite bloodborn warriors and winged half-demons assaulted the cliffside walkways where human defenders stood.
Bodies fell constantly from the heights. Some were humans torn apart by talons. Others were demons shot down by arrows. Regardless of origin, they vanished into the chaos below.
“Velariss, you go distract Alama,” Sigmund ordered calmly, even amid the chaos. “I will deal with the fat man named Lorenzo.”
He almost said “fatty” but changed the word at the last moment.
As much as he longed to personally end Alama, reason had to override grudges on the battlefield.
Alama held the Sunstone, which countered bloodborn too strongly.
Only Velariss, who did not fear sunlight, should face him.
However, Sigmund seemed to have forgotten what sort of person Velariss was.
The moment Lorenzo appeared again on one of the high walkways, Velariss did not give a single warning. She let out a sharp, feral cry and shot up the cliff like a gecko, aiming straight for Lorenzo, her twin blades gleaming.
Sigmund’s eyelid twitched, but he had no choice. He would have to face Alama and the Sunstone himself.
Luckily, he had come prepared.
He pulled a crystal vial from his chest. Inside rolled a thick, ink-dark mist.
He uncorked it and drank it all in one gulp.
Twisted black patterns spread across his pale skin, and a chilling cold radiated outward.
“What is that?” Lin Jun asked, still curious even in the middle of battle.
“Something that makes me immune to the Sunstone’s weakening effect.”
[Status: Dusksworn Curse]
Lin Jun stared at the panel in silence.
If Little West said it was good, fine, it was good.
Sigmund reached toward the ground. The wet blood on the battlefield seemed to come alive, flowing together behind him and forming several floating blood weapons.
On the opposite side, Alama drew the massive two-handed sword from his back.
As soon as he moved, the Sunstone embedded in the crossguard shone with the radiance of a noonday sun, driving away a portion of the valley’s chilling gloom.
“Father.”
Just as Alama was about to charge, his daughter’s voice came from inside the armored Puchi.
“That shining thing. I can feel it. It is incredibly useful for Puchi.”
“You mean the Sunstone?”
Alama froze. He recalled the earlier discussion about fungal mats needing sunlight, but no one had dared suggest using the ancestral Sunstone for that purpose.
Now was not the time to research effects.
“We survive first.”
Alama growled, raised the Sunstone sword, and charged at Sigmund.
Through the narrow slit in the armored Puchi’s mushroom cap, Inanna watched him run toward the center of the battlefield.
Her voice shook.
“Boss, what do we do? He ran before I even finished talking.”
Lin Jun remained calm.
“No need to panic. Even without Puchi support, they might still hold.”
The blood weapons behind Sigmund shot out like arrows.
Alama bellowed and swung the Sunstone greatsword. A white arc of light cut through the air, shattering all the incoming blood-forged weapons.
Blood scattered through the air, sizzling where it touched the Sunstone’s radiance.
But each shattered weapon carried weight. Each one made Alama’s arms grow heavier.
Although he had purged the blood poison, his body was far from fully recovered.
“What is wrong, Alama? Your sword feels slow,” Sigmund sneered and shot forward like a phantom. His pale fingers curved into claws, dark red energy flaring at the tips, aimed at Alama’s throat.
Alama twisted aside. His blade rose in a diagonal slash that forced Sigmund back, but claw wind still tore a bloody line across his chest.
His breathing grew heavier.
Sweat beaded on his forehead.
The Sunstone still blazed, but he himself was weakening rapidly.
Across the valley, the human defensive line began collapsing before the superior demon forces.
High above, Lorenzo’s situation grew dire.
Velariss moved far faster than he had expected. Her twin blades formed deadly silver arcs as she bounced between cliff and walkway like a ghost.
Each pass left a new cut on Lorenzo’s robes.
His magic shield shattered again and again.
His casting rhythm broke completely.
He could only dodge and block, unable to chant even one complete spell.
Alama saw all of this, but he could do nothing.
Each block made his arms ache.
Each step grew slower.
Spotting a small opening, Sigmund launched a blood-forged spear from the side.
It pierced through Alama’s left shoulder.
“Looks like humanity’s guardian falls here.”
Sigmund walked forward slowly, blood energy swirling around his palm.
“When you betrayed me for no reason, did you imagine you would end like this?”
Alama pressed his weight against his sword and forced himself up. His shoulder poured blood, but his eyes were unwavering.
“You murdered an entire innocent village just to climb higher. And you call that no reason.”
“What did they have to do with you?” Sigmund’s voice rose sharply.
“Did they save your life? It was me. I risked everything to drag you out of that dungeon. And you, all of you, betrayed me for those nobodies and drove me to the brink.”
Alama spat a mouthful of blood.
“We have had this conversation enough times. Even now you want to argue?”
Sigmund inhaled deeply. A dark red blood blade formed in his hand.
“You are right. I wanted to say it one more time.”
At that moment, the Sunstone on Alama’s sword exploded with a burst of radiance far stronger than anything before.
It shone like the last flare of a dying sun.
The blood blade in Sigmund’s hand hissed sharply. The edge began to melt. Even the dark markings on his skin twisted under the light.
Alama took this last chance.
He roared and charged, aiming the shining blade at Sigmund’s heart.
However, a silver arc flashed even faster.
Sigmund had been waiting. At some point he had drawn a curved blade from his waist. It flashed once and sliced through Alama’s right arm.
The severed limb and the Sunstone sword spun through the air and crashed onto the ground.
Alama staggered back, blood gushing from the stump.
Sigmund flicked blood from the curved blade.
“Letting you talk more does not mean I was letting my guard down.”
He lifted the blade toward Alama’s neck.
“Goodbye.”
Suddenly, Sigmund twisted and slashed toward an empty patch of air beside him.
A sharp metallic clash rang out.
Another followed a heartbeat later.
Two nearly invisible Knight Puchi shimmered into view, outlined by the blood mist surging around Sigmund.
His gaze jumped past them and locked onto a familiar figure farther away: a girl with bright pink hair, holding a Puchi tightly in her arms.
That girl. Alama’s daughter.
Why was she here?
Was she commanding the hidden Puchi?
Inanna, the Puchi, the dreamspace, the roommate…
A rush of questions flashed through Sigmund’s mind.
Before he could sort any of it out, the presence inside him, usually quiet and well behaved, suddenly erupted with manic excitement.
A shrill mental wave nearly tore through his thoughts.
“Quick. That Puchi she is holding. Grab it. Now. Immediately. Do whatever it takes.”
Sigmund froze.
“…What?”
(End of Chapter)
