< 120. The Crumbling City, Ptaha (3) >
*
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…’
“Not blood, huh?”
-Haha. That’s funny.
Fernandez laughed along with Faijashi’s laughter. A brief rest was enough for strength to start flowing through his muscles. It was as if life was being burned and converted into stamina, his heart pounding fiercely.
-Sssss…
The aura of Hellish Magic was being pushed from his wrist to the back of his hand. Before this aura runs out—
“I must reach it.”
He muttered, staring straight at the massive gate of the Audience Hall. A colossal stone gate, carved with gods, pharaohs, the sun, the moon, and a giant scale, blocked his path.
Hoo, Fernandez sighed and spun his greatsword, slinging it onto his back. The time of the knight was over. Now, it was time for something more delicate.
-Sssss…
As his outstretched hand barely touched the stone gate, sparks flew, pushing him back. Rubbing his tingling fingertips, he took a step back.
“The curse of the lion.”
-It’s possible to force it open… but it’ll take time.
“That won’t do. We have no resource more precious than time.”
Even life is not more valuable than time. We came back to the past to gain that ‘time.’ Fernandez smiled and gestured to the Beastman.
“So, let’s take the quick route.”
The dagger in his embrace should, of course, be drawn when needed.
*
[Oh Divine King.]
The last messenger urged evacuation before disappearing. He was the fifth attendant to bring news from the palace, and the four messages before this one were more hopeful than the current one.
First.
-An intruder dared to infiltrate, but the glorious warriors of the Divine King intercepted them.
Less than thirty minutes later.
-The intruder’s divine power is indeed threatening, but it pales in comparison to the might of our warriors.
Then, about an hour later.
-The intruder has crossed the Gateway of the Ibis. But the warrior waiting at the Lion’s Gateway is a match for a hundred, and the intruder’s strength is insignificant.
The next attendant bowed, unable to hide his uneasy gaze.
-…Oh Divine King. The intruder will never reach the Audience Hall.
And just now, the attendant who rushed in didn’t even have time to bow before urgently shouting and immediately leaving the grand gate of the Audience Hall. Through the briefly opened door, the sound of weapons clashing could be heard.
-We will seal the entrance to the Audience Hall. Oh Divine King, please protect your sacred body.
Kaharefer silently watched the Pharaoh, who stood on the outer terrace of the Audience Hall, overlooking the city. The Pharaoh’s shoulders slumped as he blankly gazed at his wounded city, filled with destruction.
-Kwaaaang!
A magic bullet struck before his eyes, scattering a massive flame. The protective spells guarding the palace were now barely functioning. Blue cracks hung in the air like spiderwebs.
The Pharaoh closed his jaw with a snap, unleashing a psychic wave. Sadness, anger, pain, hatred. Emotions unbecoming of a descendant of the gods.
[Behold, Great Warrior.]
He pointed his finger towards the city area. Below, the guards were being shattered by the bombardment from the city walls. Warriors who had sworn loyalty to him, even after a thousand years, a thousand summers.
[In my lifetime, in our lifetime. When this empire was still an empire. When this wasteland was a green meadow, and our children played by the rivers and streams. Never had this city been invaded by outsiders.]
[…]
Tutankhamun Gartep’s voice grew softer.
[Even when a necromancer subjugated us. Even after we were all trapped beneath the sand, mere wraiths. This city… this city had never been invaded by outsiders.]
[Oh Divine King…]
[I swore to my ancestors.]
Tutankhamun Gartep growled, gripping the terrace tightly.
[I would restore the people to how they should have been. Breaking free from the necromancer’s curse was a miracle, and miracles always bring a mission. I, Great Warrior. Your Divine King will unify this Great Wilderness, subjugate this world. Gather all the magic, spells, miracles, and faith that exist somewhere in this world…]
The Pharaoh’s words grew more intense. Kaharefer bowed his head, listening to his words. The ambition of a dead king. Was it genuine, or just an excuse to dress up personal ambition?
[So that we may return to how we should be.]
[Oh Divine King. If you wish, shall we escape this current crisis?]
There was a secret passage in the Audience Hall. A passage known only to the royal bloodline. Kaharefer knew of its existence. But the Pharaoh shook his head.
[Tutankhamun Gartep never flees.]
-Kwaaaang!!
A magic bullet struck the palace directly. With a rough explosion, the protective spells guarding the palace finally shattered. The Pharaoh turned his body, glaring at the stone gate of the Audience Hall visible beyond the long corridor.
[Let it be known. Tutankhamun Gartep never flees.]
[Answer me one thing.]
Kaharefer slowly raised his head and stood up.
[Oh Divine King. Was conquering this wasteland truly for the greater good?]
[I am the greater good.]
At his words, Kaharefer let out a low sigh. Arrogance and madness were mixed within the Pharaoh’s psychic wave, bursting forth. Surely, his resolve and oath were righteous, but…
After a moment of hesitation, Kaharefer stood up and turned around. Behind him, the Pharaoh’s voice echoed.
[I knew.]
[Did you?]
[A Great Warrior should be the first to face an enemy’s invasion. But you insisted on staying by my side, turning my limbs outward. That was never out of loyalty.]
[Then why did you keep me by your side?]
[Tutankhamun Gartep never flees.]
So, that great intruder who urged you to betray me…
Let it be known.
Feeling the Pharaoh’s psychic wave behind him, Kaharefer pushed the door. The stone gate creaked open. Through it, a man drenched in blood and sweat slowly entered.
The man’s eyes met the Pharaoh’s, who stood with his back to the terrace at the end of the Audience Hall. For a moment, their gazes crossed.
“Tutankhamun Gartep. Your Great Warrior seems greatly confused. Almost as if he regrets it.”
[What does it matter?]
“If you mean what you say. If you want to break free from that binding curse, to truly be free from that damned Great Demon’s gaze. I’ll help you.”
[Tutankhamun Gartep does not make deals.]
“Become my vassal.”
[Tutankhamun Gartep does not submit.]
The Pharaoh’s arrogant eyes burned. Fernandez faced him and laughed.
“Even when Dale Pertas, with the entire Conclave of the Necropolis, attacked me simultaneously back in the day. He was no match for me.”
So, come. I’ll teach you how to submit. Fernandez slowly gestured to the Beastman, looking at him.
Tutankhamun Gartep’s gaze flickered.
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