Chapter 68 - Attack on the Royal Capital (2)

Arterium, the royal capital. Deep-blue mana blanketed the pitch-black night sky. The magic circle spread overhead blazed brightly, every stroke of its array shining with an unnatural presence.

Most of those on the ground watched the strange phenomenon as though enjoying a festival. Laughter and chatter rang through the capital.

Their smiles did not last.

"W-wait a moment."

"What's that sound?"

"Screaming...?"

A noise like metal scraping against sheet iron began to spread across the night sky. It was so unpleasant, so unsettling, that people wanted to plug their ears. It was a monstrous shriek that made humans instinctively cower.

"Someone, please make it stop!"

"Stop! Stop it!"

Panic swept through the crowds. Some clutched their heads and howled; others ran frantically through the streets. More and more people were losing their minds.

Unfortunately, the torture did not end. The noise only grew louder and closer.

"I don't want to hear it!"

"Help me! Please!"

Five hundred years of accumulated anguish and resentment, more than an ordinary human could experience in a lifetime, blanketed the ground. Now that hatred was almost palpable against their skin.

As everyone descended into madness, the night sky split open. Terrible screams shook heaven and earth.

Beings that embodied rancor revealed themselves. Howling, they poured down toward the capital.

It was as though the gates of hell had opened.

* * *

The capital's Bureau of Holy Inspection, the institution charged with monitoring all forms of evil, including Demons, heretics, and apostates, went on emergency alert. The cause was the spatial transport array deployed above the capital.

Thousands of evil spirits were summoned from the array and poured toward the ground. Fortunately, there had been no casualties yet. The holy barrier burned every spirit that struck it.

Countless sacred soldiers, priests, and holy knights also stood ready for whatever might follow the barrier's destruction. The capital's anti-Demon defenses were exceptionally sturdy.

There was a comfortable margin of safety, but the Bureau could not simply stand by and watch. Arterium was home to the king and countless nobles. They were the heart of the kingdom. If the defenses were breached, however remote the chance, the kingdom would cease to function.

The nation itself might disappear.

If even the slightest threat to them existed, the Bureau had to do everything in its power to respond.

Archbishop Rohagen, director of the capital's Bureau of Holy Inspection, rushed out of the church and shouted,

"Focus on defense until we understand the situation! Put every soldier on standby and send a request for support to the palace!"

His secretary followed him out.

"Already done, sir! The entire palace garrison has assembled, apart from the Royal Knight Order!"

Not only the church's sacred soldiers but ordinary knights and the Royal Guard had all been mobilized.

"And the beacon?"

"It's lit! The Holy Kingdom will know what's happening soon!"

Reinforcements would come to the capital from across the continent. Until they arrived, Director Rohagen intended to devote himself entirely to defense. Taking unnecessary risks and introducing unforeseen complications would be disastrous.

This was the first large-scale attack on humanity in two hundred years, and everyone lacked practical experience. The right approach was to remain calm and follow procedure.

Rohagen nodded.

"Good. Then convene an emergency meeting immediately, and—"

Someone abruptly cut him off.

"Shouldn't we put together a special task force first, sir?"

Rohagen turned. A man with narrow eyes and a snow-white headscarf stood grinning.

"Azval...?"

Azval, Fourth Seat of the Twelve Holy Emblems. He was one of the Church's most formidable assets.

"Yes, Director. Azval here."

"What are you doing here?"

Most of the Twelve Holy Emblems had been dispatched to the southwestern holy quarantine zone, where the ancient Demon and White Horn had appeared.

Azval scratched at his headscarf.

"I went for a bit, then came back. Whether he shot out of the ground or sank into the sky, there wasn't so much as a speck of White Horn to be found."

The investigation into White Horn was still underway inside the holy sealing array, but not a single clue had turned up. That was difficult to explain unless White Horn had already escaped the sealing array.

In fact, it made more sense to assume he had left the barrier. That was Azval's view.

Rohagen sighed, looking thoroughly exasperated.

"How long do you intend to keep doing whatever you please?"

Azval grinned.

"Still, aren't you glad I'm here? Just give the word, and I'll go find out who those things are, at least."

He pointed at the night sky.

Near the spatial transport array spewing evil spirits, three or so black silhouettes were visible. They were probably responsible for this.

It was difficult to make out what they were from here. They were too far away, and the holy barrier was too densely woven. Identifying them would require getting closer.

After a moment's deliberation, Rohagen spoke.

"I can't spare any troops."

"That's fine. I'm enough on my own. More people would just get in the way."

His confidence was not unfounded. Every one of the Twelve Holy Emblems was a truly overwhelming monster. Had they been born five hundred years earlier, they would have been revered as Holy Heroes.

In truth, Rohagen was relieved that Azval was still in the capital.

Rohagen nodded.

"Act as you see fit. Give me a separate report afterward."

Azval saluted.

"Yes, sir! As you command! Saint Marziel!"

Shaking his head, Rohagen returned to the church. It was time to begin the emergency meeting.

Left alone, Azval looked up.

"Attacking the capital, huh? Just who are you lunatics with more guts than sense?"

An intrigued smile played about his lips.

* * *

High above the capital, Maphel’tan looked down and murmured,

"Not quite enough."

Countless evil spirits poured ceaselessly toward the ground. People fled in blind panic or screamed. Their fear was a delicacy to a Demon.

It was a rather welcome situation, but there was one problem. Both the quantity and quality of that fear fell far short of his expectations.

Fundamentally, the capital was too safe. As long as the holy barrier stood, people did not fear for their lives. They were simply fleeing in alarm at the very existence of evil spirits.

That degree of fear could hardly satisfy Maphel’tan. He had come here at some risk, however slight, and he needed a better reward.

He spoke.

"Ilea, can you bring down that barrier? Even briefly?"

Seated on a broomstick, the girl in the black hood replied,

"I'm sorry. I have almost no mana left."

She had pushed her body relentlessly for days on end to activate the spatial transport array. It was magic of an extraordinarily high order; even a witch could not use it without paying a price.

In truth, Ilea was on the verge of exhaustion.

Maphel’tan clicked his tongue.

"Nothing for it, then."

Just as he was about to give up, the Dark Elf standing on Ilea's broomstick spoke.

"I can manage it briefly."

"You?"

The Dark Elf nodded.

"The barrier is weaker than it was five hundred years ago. Would a minute or so suffice?"

The corners of Maphel’tan's mouth lifted.

"More than enough. Thank you."

"No thanks are necessary. The stronger you become, the easier it will be to fulfill our contract."

Pitch-black light began to gather in the Dark Elf's hand. The baleful glow immediately took the shape of a bow.

A greatbow larger than Maphel’tan himself. It had to be an accursed object of at least Grade Seven.

The Dark Elf nocked an enormous arrow. He looked as though he were about to fire a siege engine.

Maphel’tan let out a quiet sound of admiration. At that same instant, the arrow flew.

With a shriek that seemed to tear the air apart, a black thunderbolt fell upon the barrier.

BOOOOOOM!

Amid the terrible blast, cracks splintered across the barrier.

Everyone on the ground was horrified.

"N-no way!"

"The barrier's breaking!"

"Run!"

Another thunderbolt fell. A moment later, the golden veil covering the capital shattered like glass.

Pandemonium erupted.

Most of those on the ground ran screaming. Many others were too shocked to move. Evil spirits were pouring down like rain.

Maphel’tan's red eyes flashed with ecstasy. Pleasure crashed over him like a wave.

He repeatedly hurt himself to keep from losing his reason. By now, even this shit was becoming somewhat familiar.

'... Fuck.'

Zal’karin and the other evil spirits surrendered to the pleasure. The frenzied elves let out horrifying shrieks.

SKREEEEEE!

Even as countless holy spells and defensive systems slaughtered them, they could not hide their delight.

"Intercept them!"

"Not a single one is to set foot in the capital!"

Black blood sprayed through the air. Torn and burst remains showered down, coating everyone below in filthy scraps.

No Demon survived to set foot in the capital, but the ground was already a hellscape. Humans trampled one another and fell, creating a scene of frenzy.

Maphel’tan closed his eyes and reaffirmed his resolve.

'Just don't lose myself.'

He only had to endure one minute.

As he tried to keep himself under control, Ilea tapped his arm.

He opened his eyes. An enormous white bird had appeared before him. Someone sat cross-legged on its back.

A narrow-eyed man in a headscarf. His small eyes opened a fraction.

"White Horn? No way."

Ilea spoke quietly.

"Maphel’tan, this could be a little dangerous."

He felt the same way. An exceedingly dangerous aura emanated from the man. The holy power surrounding him shone with blinding brilliance, and his smiling expression was utterly relaxed.

The Dark Elf narrowed his eyes.

"So freaks like that still exist, even five hundred years later."

Occasionally, an anomaly like the man before them was born among humans. Heroes chosen by the moon. Humanity had survived thanks to them.

The man grinned.

"What are you whispering about? More importantly, are you really White Horn?"

He was an almost exact match for the description in the report. The creature who should have been inside the holy sealing array had appeared above the capital.

Maphel’tan answered calmly.

"I am. But what is your name, mortal?"

The man began to clap.

"Knew I was right. The name's Azval."

Just as Maphel’tan had suspected.

Azval the Meat Grinder. One of the Twelve Holy Emblems and a prominent figure in Chronicle of Humans and Demons.

The divine beast he rode had allowed Maphel’tan to deduce his identity immediately.

A smile spread across Maphel’tan's face. He had met his favorite character from Chronicle of Humans and Demons.

He was a personal fan.

Maphel’tan spoke.

"Well, Azval. I'd like to have a little chat with you."

Azval waved him off.

"I don't do that with Demons. White Horn dies here."

At the same time, he brought a hand to his mouth. His throat began to heave.

A moment later, an enormous saw emerged from his mouth.

Maphel’tan watched with interest.

"Oho. Vizard."

Azval grinned.

"That's right. I'll cut you in half with it."

The Dark Elf immediately loosed an arrow.

An instant later, Azval vanished. His unhurried voice came from directly above Maphel’tan's head.

"Not interested in lackeys. I'll kill the boss first."

The grotesque saw blade descended toward Maphel’tan's head.