Northern Threat (2)

Meanwhile, Azadine was observing Doneor’s group through the Voice of the Emperor.

The Voice of the Emperor volunteered to act as a scout, surveying the surroundings and reporting the information to Azadine.

While it wasn’t a magical connection that shared vision like a true scout, the descriptions provided by the Voice of the Emperor were still immensely helpful.

That hadn’t been the case before.

The Voice of the Emperor was an artificial spirit. And an unbound artificial spirit would normally try to conserve as much mana as possible for self-maintenance.

Despite that, it had become so cooperative with Azadine—perhaps because he had been promoted to Second-Rank Messenger, or maybe due to his many past contributions—whatever the reason, the cooperation was welcome.

[Be careful, Azadine. A group of about eight armed individuals is heading this way.]

“About eight armed individuals? Could it be them? The murderous monsters the roadside bandits were looking for?”

[I can’t say for sure, but I do sense Nether mana. Plus, there are the corpses of ogres and goblins nearby. It’s impressive—there’s almost a whole company of bodies piled up.]

“Eight people took on a whole company?”

If that were true, then those must be the murderers and monsters the bandits had been seeking.

“Hey, can you relay my voice to those bandits we passed earlier? If you explain the situation in a way that’s not too off-putting, we might be able to win their cooperation.”

If an artificial spirit suddenly spoke to the bandits, it could scare them off. But then the Voice of the Emperor made an unexpected suggestion.

[How about I imitate the voices of their slain comrades? If I explain in a ghostly tone, maybe they’ll come on their own?]

“A dignified Emperor’s Voice resorting to such a trick…”

[Should I not?]

“No, I like it. It’s good, just surprising how proactive you’re being all of a sudden. Is this because of my promotion?”

[Many have left the Messenger post—some by choice, others not. With surplus mana, I merely protect the Messengers who remain.]

“What?”

Azadine was shocked by the statement from the Voice of the Emperor.

Some had left the Messenger position, by force or otherwise? That was unthinkable.

Of course, being a Messenger didn’t make one invincible. Some had suffered injuries or permanent damage that made it impossible to continue their duties.

Or they aged and passed their roles to successors before retiring.

But if it were a retirement or handover, the Voice of the Emperor wouldn’t say it had surplus mana.

The disappearance of Messengers leaving their seats vacant—

That was a roundabout way of saying they had been killed or dismissed.

If they had just died in the line of duty… no, there was the recent rebellion by the Arael faction.

“Could it be that the Senate executed the Messengers who sided with Arael during the rebellion?”

[That is not something I can speak on, Azadine. I mimicked their comrades’ voices and told the bandits to avenge them or face a curse, then delivered the intel.]

“Even mentioned a curse? Then they’ll be running here sweating bullets.”

[Indeed. They’re terrified but not fleeing—they’re coming fast to lift the curse and avenge their friends.]

As the Voice of the Emperor said, the bandit gang had armed themselves at their camp and were heading this way.

“You’re planning to make the bandits fight. That’s pretty ruthless.”

Shati was amazed at Azadine’s scheme, using even the Voice of the Emperor to draw the bandits into the fight.

“But it’s justified. The bandits want revenge, and we can’t just let those things roam free.”

Zebec, defending Azadine, drew his sword, inspected the blade, and wiped it clean with a leather strap.

“Enough talk—get the people to safety! Let’s link up with those bandits!”

While protecting the refugees, Azadine fell back and joined up with the incoming bandits.

And almost at the same time, Doneor’s group descended from the hill and arrived before Azadine’s group.

“Isn’t that bastard one of the Messenger Clan?”

Bandit King Doneor spotted Azadine’s group and was instead delighted.

Inquisitor Ject had ordered Bandit King Doneor to find Azadine and Zebec. And now here they were.

‘Ject, that bastard’s a prophet or something. How the hell did he know the Messenger Clan would cross the border? Or was it just a coincidence?’

Doneor felt his blood stir.

In the past, he had suffered a humiliating defeat at Azadine’s hands.

But he was no longer the same man. Now, even if their enemy was a Messenger Clan member—a so-called God-Killer and soulless blasphemer—his group, now used to monsters, might be stronger.

That’s when Azadine drew his bow.

—Swiish!

The arrow flew.

Unbelievably fast—but there was distance, and since they saw it coming, they could trace the arrow’s path.

“It’s obvious! Bastard!”

One of Doneor’s men tried to deflect the arrow with his shield.

But—

—Thunk!

The arrow pierced through the head of the man holding the shield. Even though he had tracked the arrow and swung to block it, the arrow spun mid-flight and veered into his head.

“Kahahah! You idiot! Messenger arrows can change direction! Didn’t you know that?”

Even as their comrade’s head was skewered, the others just laughed.

The impaled man sheepishly pulled out the arrow. For any normal person, this would have been a fatal wound. But shockingly, when he pulled it out, dark crimson worms wriggled out of the wound and sealed it shut.

The Blue Turban Party soldiers who saw this recoiled in horror.

“Eek?!”

“What is that?!”

“A monster!”

“Oh, that’s…”

Everyone recalled the shattered trees by the roadside.

Beasts strong enough to throw humans hard enough to break great trees—these were the monsters that had killed and devoured people.

They were human in form, but the shadows they cast were monstrous. People trembled in fear.

‘Funny—those bandits are monsters too.’

Though neutralized by Arael’s medicine, they themselves had been monsters wielding death just the day before.

“Let’s break a few of you open.”

Azadine fired a volley of arrows made from cheap iron tips.

Two-stringed bow technique—he released multiple arrows one after another, but they struck simultaneously using a Messenger’s skill. Three arrows struck a single enemy at once.

The target tried to deflect with a shield, but got hit by the others and screamed. Yet the wounds healed soon after.

“They’re not enemies we can kill with arrows.”

The Blue Turban Priest, Jiswa, was panicking, but Azadine kept shooting to slow the eight enemies and prevent them from charging all at once.

Then the bandits charged.

Furious over the loss of their comrades and territory, they leapt forward. They fired arrows and swung polearms, striking down the leading monsters.

Blood flew and a storm of gore erupted.

Well-equipped, the bandits fought skillfully, enough to chill the spines of the Blue Turban youths. They were likely veteran mercenaries.

“Whoa, these guys fight damn well. Doneor!”

“There’s a limit to what we can do in human form!”

“Do it!”

The monsters revealed their true forms.

Though they had watched the vengeful bandits’ swordplay, they were confident that once they went all out, they could kill them with ease—like cats toying with cornered mice.

The bandits who had been holding their own were quickly overwhelmed.

“I understand your plan, but I can’t just watch.”

Zebec couldn’t bear the sight.

He knew Azadine was using the bandits to weaken Doneor’s group, but he couldn’t stand by while they were killed before his eyes.

“That guy…”

“He’s that holy knight, isn’t he?!”

Doneor’s men recognized Zebec and attacked. Ject had ordered them to capture Zebec as well.

But Zebec met them calmly.

“Sir Brand sends his regards.”

At that moment, Zebec dropped his rusted mace to the ground. Holy magic from the King’s Church activated, striking the just-transformed enemies with the divine punishment of the Light of the Crown.

“Kraaagh!”

Then Zebec charged in, slashing with his longsword. He severed arms, cut behind knees, and carved through with clean precision.

The bandits had solid technique, but Zebec’s swordplay made theirs look like a child’s game.

In the blink of an eye, he crippled them and swung his blade horizontally—like an executioner beheading criminals—cleanly severing their heads.

Still on guard, he recited a chant, casting a purification spell that burned the black worms pouring from the corpses with white flames.

“Ugh!”

“The Light of the Crown!”

The Doneor gang couldn’t even look at the blinding radiance from Zebec.

Though they had become monsters and gained immense power, they were now more vulnerable to the Light of the Crown. Faced with a real Paladin like Zebec, they were helpless.

“…What the? That guy’s that strong?”

As Doneor panicked, Azadine charged straight at him.

“Stop him!”

“You bastard!”

Doneor’s men expanded their bodies, unleashing worms as they grew, swinging their limbs.

With massive arms and the weapons they held, their attacks came at Azadine with terrifying weight.

But Azadine used Twilight Step, dodging under their attacks and ignoring the others, appearing right before Doneor.

“How have you been, Doneor? What are you doing here?”

“Urgh… You bastard! That Messenger from back then!”

Doneor tried to counterattack, but Azadine’s hand pierced his left eye first.

With curled fingers, he lightly jabbed in, shredding the eyeball and socket.

“Gaaaah!”

For the current Doneor, losing an eye wasn’t even a major wound.

But from the place Azadine struck, a searing pain spread through his whole body. Because Azadine was imbued with the Light of the Crown from the copy of the Heavenly Kings’ Grimoire, his strike caused immense suffering.

“AAAAAAAGH!”

Doneor writhed on the ground in unbearable agony. Azadine kicked him aside.

“Urgh!”

“Why so dramatic? I was going to take it easy on you out of respect for Sir Brand, but you’re acting like a baby.”

“You bastard. That old man’s…”

“You deserve a painful death.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

Doneor reflexively swung his weapon, but Azadine dodged and drove a kick into his torso.