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Chapter 263: The Die is Cast (1)

How long was a month for anyone who lived for a hundred years? It was a question so subjective that if it was posed to scholars across the world, they probably wouldn’t reach a consensus. Just like how one could hear a man serenading their loved one as a few seconds or a few years, or how an interesting book could feel like a few minutes or a few hours. A month could change a person’s life, or it could pass with nothing happening.

Therefore, an objective measurement was needed if one wanted to measure time. What events could be measured in a month? There was no way to describe the passage of time without an answer to that.

From that perspective, the last month had been a once in a century turning point for Meltor. Elvenheim’s famed neutrality had been broken, a new master had been born, and three of the Seven Swords had perished. The icing on the cake had been the secret talks that Aquilo and Veronica had attended.

After Prince Fermut’s taunts and the disappearance of the 2nd Sword, Meltor’s leaders reached a conclusion.

“Your Majesty! This is an opportunity!” The minister of the military, Robert Alpenheimer, stepped up first. “If the enemy is stronger than us, there is no way Andras will step back first! It is finally time for us to unify the Northern Continent! This is a chance to destroy our enemy!”

“Lower your voice, Minister,” the minister of domestic affairs, Jerome Violeta, spoke, “The enemy is showing moderation, but we can’t guarantee our superiority. Most of all, the magic towers haven’t recovered from the damage from that convoy mission a few years ago. Even if Andras has weakened, we aren’t necessarily stronger.”

It was a reasonable point. The 1st Sword had stood behind the emperor, who wanted a continuation of the truce. There was a good chance that Andras had retreated for political reasons.

However, Robert didn’t accept this as he yelled, “This weakness is why the north can’t escape the turmoil of war, even after hundreds of years!”

Jerome retorted, “It is better than acting hastily and dying!”

“What?!”

As usual, the argument between the two people quickly intensified. The quietly listening Kurt raised a hand. After all, it was the role of a king to make decisions and direct the mood of the meeting.

The meeting room in the royal palace sank into silence. The two ministers, who were striving to outdo each other, paled and looked at Kurt.

“Listen carefully,” Kurt rebuked them. He closed his eyes. “White Tower Master, report.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The ghostly master of the White Tower, Orta, emerged from seemingly thin air in the middle of the room.

It was a surprising sight, but the people assembled here had gotten used to it. They had all guessed why Orta had appeared, so all of them were calm.

“I will report on the status of the 2nd Sword, Zest Speitem.”

“Um.”

The name which emerged from Orta’s mouth increased the tension in the meeting room. Zest Speitem, along with Crowd von Russell, was one of Andras’ strongest swordsmen. They hadn't imagined that Orta had been investigating him…

“I tracked a certain Cardinal Antonio, who secretly departed from Lairon and entered Belfort, Andras’ capital. I couldn’t follow him to his destination, but I discovered that his carriage reached the mansion known to be the 2nd Sword’s residence.”

“Cardinal.”

The cardinal was known to have a healing ability. Unlike magic power, divine power didn’t cause any backlash from aura. Rather, it intensified aura’s inherent vitality, so divine power users had been able to establish an intimate relationship with aura users over time. Additionally, the priests of Lairon were hostile to Meltor. But there was only one reason to call the cardinal who was normally in the middle of the Central Continent.

“Maybe our hero isn’t the only one who needs to recover.”

The empire’s 2nd Sword, Zest Speitem, was injured! If it was necessary to call a cardinal, it meant his state wasn’t something that could be fixed with a healing potion. It was either a curse that couldn’t be overcome by a swordmaster’s natural healing ability, or it was an injury that had resisted healing for three months. Nobody imagined that Theo had summoned a high-ranking demon, but they were certain that the cause of the injury was Zest’s fight against Theo.

Jerome spoke first, “Your Majesty.”

Kurt nodded once, and Jerome continued, “I will withdraw what I said earlier. Please declare war as Robert suggested!”

“Hrmm.” Kurt III cupped his chin as he let an openly curious expression pass across his face.

Jerome ignored Robert’s wide-eyed, shocked face. “Meltor and Andras have two top masters who can sway a battlefield. We have Red Tower Master and Blue Tower Master, and Andras, the 1st and 2nd Swords. So far, we were able to maintain equilibrium because of their existence.”

Kurt probed, “It isn’t the case now?”

“Yes. The 2nd Sword can’t come to the battlefield, so it is a chance for Meltor. And...” A shadow of sorrow crossed Jerome’s face, “If we miss this chance because of an indecisive attitude... I—no, we will be failing Captain Theo!”

Kurt sat back in his chair. “... I see.”

Jerome had filled the room with determination. Everyone’s gazes had unconsciously gone to a certain empty chair. The nobles weren’t warriors or magicians. They didn’t have the attitude of warriors, but there was clearly an atmosphere of going to war which filled this space.

“Okay.” The king of the magic kingdom rose from his seat and honored their will. “The armistice is over. From this moment on, Meltor is officially on war footing, starting with Manavil. We will set up three vanguard units to strike the three border regions.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

“White Tower Master, call all the Tower Masters for an emergency meeting. And—”

.

Holding the king’s scepter firmly in hand, Kurt finally took a step toward the war that was approaching him.

“Call Veronica.”

***

Exactly one week later.

Meltor declared the dismissal of the armistice agreement without notice, and Andras accepted it without raising an objection. They had clearly been preparing for war. Of course, even assuming that was true, war wasn’t something which could be started in a short period of time. It took a good month to gather the reserve soldiers and organize the troops.

Therefore, the border zone wasn’t fully equipped yet. However, something else did exist in this world—a transcendent being that could break down a fortress and annihilate thousands of soldiers. The movements of a master couldn’t be determined with common sense.

“... It really is dreary.”

A magician was floating in the sky, looking down at the lights that seemed like fireflies. Crimson hair and red robes swayed in the wind, seemingly burning away the darkness, as Veronica looked down at the empire’s fortress which would soon become ashes.

“I only want to attack military facilities, but I’ll have to kill them all anyway. At the very least, there are no ‘innocent people’ in this part of the north. You are soldiers that would someday become enemies if left alive. You have always done the same thing, so don’t blame me.”

Of course, there wasn’t a reply. It was pointless complaining to the silent ground, so she raised a hand. In fact, she wasn’t in a bad mood. Rather, joy was bubbling up inside her. The blood of a red dragon, which lived for fighting and bloodshed, was rousing within her.

However, she didn’t accept that instinct. Veronica had been raised as a human and a magician, so she couldn’t afford to accept it. So she had to hurry before this dirty feeling got worse.

“Still, I will only feel sick for a short while.”

Veronica’s eight Circles rotated, and the dark sky reddened. It was a natural phenomenon where magic power distorted the environment.

She had only been a little stronger than others when she arm wrestled them as a child, but after reaching the 8th Circle, her blood had grown thicker. She might not be a pure blood dragon, but it wasn’t hard to get close to a limitless dragon’s heart.

A rain of destruction poured down from the burning sky.

The steel gates melted. The solid walls collapsed. The air turned into a deadly poison.

The wind was scattered by the heat, and those on the ground struggled to breathe.

In the East, it would be called a fiery hell. It was a hell where an unquenchable fire burned away everything. Just five minutes of Veronica’s bombardment effortlessly turned a city that awaited a new war into carbon.

Walls meant nothing. Soldiers who trained for a decade were dust in the wind. Screaming lips blackened, and white bones turned into slag. But there was one survivor in that hell.

“Wow, so this is why they call her the Witch of Heat…? She isn’t someone I can face. If she is as annoying as Zest says, I’ll just decorate this place with my blood.”

Their curves betrayed their identity as a woman, as she shifted the two meter spear on her back to a more comfortable spot. The heat haze blurred her face, but she didn’t sound old. She was the Empire’s 5th Sword, Delkur of the Shadows.

Delkur had been posted to the city to defend the border, but this was well above her abilities. Apart from her boiling fighting spirit, her sword master’s instincts told her that this wasn’t an opponent she could win against.

However, Delkur smiled as she gazed up at the distant sky. “Is this winning? Putting the strongest card at this weak place allows for an easy victory.”

Delkur’s red eyes shone as she quietly looked up at Veronica. “But what about elsewhere?”

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