More than half of the city had turned to ashes. Despite the overwhelming advantage of our forces, the magic cannons installed on the outskirts of the city were stripping away all that advantage with their relentless bombardment.
Tamptis, the High Priestess of the palace. Her spells were seen deflecting the magic projectiles. A miraculous feat. That a single person’s spell could hold back such a massive cannon was astonishing.
But that was all. The battlefield was vast, and he had no mage in his ranks who could wield magic on her level. Tutankhamun Gartep frowned, gripping and then releasing the hilt of his sword.
[Is it not done yet? Are they still so incompetent!]
[Divine King, please remain calm. Their desperate struggle is insignificant, and our reinforcements will arrive soon.]
[How far has the Legion of Karatra advanced?]
[According to the reports, they will commence the siege before dawn.]
[Hmm…!!]
Tutankhamun Gartep stood on the balcony, gazing at the night sky. It was already turning blue with the approaching dawn. Just a couple more hours. That was all the time his legion needed to breach the city walls and reclaim the city.
-Piriririk…
And then, a strange whistling sound tore through the air as a projectile soared. Tutankhamun Gartep stared blankly at the projectile flying straight toward the royal palace.
-Piriririk…
A pale trajectory. The meticulously woven spells, rubbing against the atmosphere and leaving behind a magical resonance, seemed to move unrealistically slow. A high-density magic projectile, conjured solely for destruction and slaughter, was flying straight toward him.
-Kwaaaaang!!
The projectile soon collided somewhere right in front of the Pharaoh’s eyes, causing a massive explosion. Neither the wind nor the shockwave could reach the Pharaoh.
The strongest defensive spell of the Ivory Seat. The Breath of the Ancient Dragon, the Dwarven Flame Cannon, or even the Curse of the Great Demon—only such powerful spells could breach this protection cast around the palace.
The Pharaoh, with blazing eyes, searched beyond the walls for Neferka, who must be watching this spectacle from somewhere. That fool must also know that such an attack could never harm the Pharaoh’s residence.
But—
-Kwajijijik.
Blue cracks began to spread through the empty air. The magic cannons, crudely mimicking Dwarven technology, could never match their firepower. Yet, they were still delivering a significant impact.
Soon, the trajectories of the magic cannons continued to rain down from the city walls. They tirelessly fired toward the palace. It seemed they had decided that directly striking the palace was more effective than targeting the Pharaoh’s guards in the city center.
[Fools…!]
-Tukwaaaang!!
A thunderous explosion echoed from the outer barriers of the palace. The destructive magic of the projectiles flowed along the translucent, solidified protective spells.
-Jjeojeojeok.
Cracks ran across the surface again. The protective spells of the palace and the magic sustaining them were not infinite. It was a battle of time.
Gradually, dawn began to break. And far on the horizon, a cloud of dust could be seen rising.
[Hurry!!]
Tutankhamun Gartep growled, gripping the terrace railing tightly. The dazzling light trails created by the magic cannon projectiles continued to pound the outer walls of the palace. The time the spells could hold, and the time it would take for the Pharaoh’s legion to enter the city center.
It was a race against time.
Before the variable arrived.
[Stop him!!]
The guard who shouted that was crushed as his skull split apart. Fernandez swung the King’s Greatsword and advanced forward. Bones flew, and fragments scattered. The guards, who had sworn eternal loyalty to the Pharaoh, charged at him until their souls were shattered.
‘Annoying.’
Fernandez thought as he swung his sword wide. The palace corridor leading to the audience hall was filled with guards and their corpses. He glanced at the gradually brightening sky and bit his lip.
‘How much time do we have left?’
-Are you talking about the time the magic will last? Or the time Neferka has left?
‘Both.’
-The magic… will run out within an hour.
‘By calculation, the Pharaoh’s legion should arrive by then.’
The corruption of hellish magic was gradually being pushed out of his body. Fernandez struggled to hold onto that thread, but the divine blood burning within him continuously unraveled the curse.
Anyway, it was too good of a body. He clicked his tongue as he looked at his left arm, which had almost fully regained its form. His left arm, once corrupted up to the forearm by the Necropolis and Hell, now only had traces of the curse down to his wrist.
He had to finish this before then. Fernandez quickened his pace. The guards fiercely pressed in.
“Clear the way!”
[Stop him!! Stop him, warriors of Asit!]
Contradictory shouts erupted. Fernandez clicked his tongue briefly and lowered his stance. His thigh muscles tensed and bulged, and the blood of Diemonica pumped through his tendons and fibers.
-Thud, thud, thud!
When the tension reached its peak, Fernandez leaped forward. Like a charging lion, he jumped, crossing his greatsword and slashing through the air.
-Swaaaak!
The obsidian greatsword flashed against the blue glass lanterns. Swallowing the light, he moved forward, forward—
-Kadududuk!!
The guards in its path shattered from the impact and scattered in all directions!
[W-what kind of power is this!!]
[H-he’s not human!!]
“Bit of a bummer to hear that from a wraith.”
Fernandez chuckled as he landed and adjusted his stance. In that moment, the wraiths rushed at him. He pulled his greatsword diagonally, and his blue eyes gleamed from between his arms.
-Kaduduk!
Once again, the sword danced.
How many had he cut down? How much time had passed? Fernandez, catching his breath, looked ahead with eyes weary from exhaustion.
The long corridor of the palace was filled with shattered bone fragments. Blood flowed from the bruises, cuts, and abrasions covering his entire body.
-Kaduduk.
Finally, as he drove his greatsword into the twitching skull of a skeleton, Fernandez leaned on his sword for a moment, panting. Sweat and blood dripped from his fingertips onto the floor.
‘Normally, I’d have boasted a bit.’
-To whom? That dragon or the beastwoman?
‘Yeah. My…’
