70 — Temple Of The Serpent (1)

They now recognized that Azadine was an opponent they could never underestimate—a true powerhouse.

“I thought I had lost everything after becoming a monster.”

“Turns out we still have a shred of pride left in us.”

They began drinking the blood from the Pits of Despair.

“Don’t call it cowardice.”

“Do whatever you can, Messenger Azadine!”

Their wounds healed, and their mouths began to protrude.

-Hiss.

-Hisss!

Flicking their tongues like vipers, the former Messengers began gliding smoothly across the water’s surface. Their legs had fused into a single tail, slithering across the water like a serpent swimming atop the surface.

“Prepare yourself!”

“Yes, come at me with everything you’ve got!”

Azadine extended his left hand over the water, then clenched it into a fist and sent his power toward the serpents.

-“The Art of Flower, Bird, Wind, and Moon—Thunder Striking a Calm Surface of Kazas’ Grimoire!”

A pillar of water erupted, and shockwaves rippled across the surface toward the gliding former Messengers.

The Thunderbolt of Kazas’ Grimoire was a technique that pierced through objects with focused energy. Azadine altered its application, using it to strike the water’s surface and transform it into a powerful shockwave.

Within the physically visible shockwave, Azadine’s incomplete magic from the Art of Flower, Bird, Wind, and Moon turned into a Dark Energy and overwhelmed the former Messengers.

“Argh!”

“Kiieek?!”

As the former Messengers screamed in strange agony, a blade suddenly pierced through Harad’s chest. Azadine, who had darted through the water pillars, struck from behind and drove his sword clean through Harad’s chest.

-Crack, crunch.

Azadine lifted the sword, cutting through Harad’s spine and ribcage. Like filleting a fish along its backbone, he cleaved Harad in two. Harad tried to stop the sword with his hands, but his fingers were severed in chunks.

“S-such… power!”

Even Harad, a Messenger with strength far beyond an ordinary human, was no match for Azadine’s overwhelming force.

“Damn it!”

Kevna circled Azadine, searching for an opening to attack and aid Harad. However, Azadine spun Harad, still impaled on his blade, using him as a shield while continuing to slice upward, severing his shoulder and lungs.

In the end, as the blade emerged from his shoulder, it severed his lungs, rendering Harad’s regenerative powers useless. He collapsed, coughing blood.

“This monster… what is this?”

“The Art of Flower, Bird, Wind, and Moon—Kazas’ Grimoire.”

“This… is it?”

“Any last words or messages for your kin? I’ll deliver them.”

Azadine stomped on the bloodied Harad and turned to face the other remaining foe, Kevna.

“…Ha. In this state, what’s there to say? Damn it. What happened to the so-called greatest fool of the clan?”

Kevna’s words were harsh, but his eyes were filled with admiration.

Was it because Azadine was strong?

That was part of it, but not all. As fallen beings, tainted with demonic power, they found themselves moved by Azadine’s sense of honor and pride as a Messenger.

‘Ironically, I never had such pride when I was a Messenger myself.’

Kevna glared at Azadine.

‘A boy grows into a man before you know it. Impressive. Is this Elder Kazas’ doing? Or is it the curse of servitude, birthing the perfect Messenger?’

At that moment, Azadine asked a question.

“Who’s behind the Count? Is it Nagasura?”

Nagasura, the empire of the Nagas that ruled humanity before the Divine Gods of the Eight Kingdoms arrived.

Judging by the transformation of the former Messengers into Naga-like forms, Azadine suspected that the Nagas of Nagasura had enchanted the Count, but he asked to confirm.

“Find out for yourself.”

Kevna uttered those words and cast a spell.

-“Swarm Strike!”

Transparent magical projectiles rose around Kevna as he lunged forward in the form of a corrupted Naga, spewing venom from his mouth.

However, Azadine struck the water’s surface with his sword, creating a spray of water that neutralized the venom and deflected the magical projectiles.

“No way!”

Azadine advanced, swinging his sword.

-Slash!

Kevna countered with his blade, but Azadine’s sheer strength shattered it and slashed an X across his heart and head.

“Ugh… Impressive.”

Kevna collapsed into the bloodied water. Though his regenerative powers healed his wounds, the blood loss exceeded his body’s ability to recover.

In the end, Kevna gasped for breath, suffering and dying from his regeneration’s delay.

“If you had fought as a Messenger rather than a monster, you would have been a more difficult opponent.”

“As a Messenger, not a monster? Haha. I didn’t think of that.”

“Any final words?”

“The Count… is building an undead army. A significant number is already stored below… and the copy of the Heavenly King’s Book of Truth will be offered to Debyslin, the Queen of the Nagas, as a sacrifice.”

“Has it already been offered?”

“Not yet… but it will be. The Count has five copies. Damn it, Azadine. You’re an exceptional Messenger, but our clan isn’t worth your loyalty. There’s darkness within the clan.”

“What kind?”

“It’s… something related to Chief Hathir. We don’t know the details either. Be cautious around the Chief.”

“Understood.”

Azadine raised his sword over the bodies of the former Messengers, ready to pierce their heads.

“Thank you, Azadine.”

Azadine freed the former Messengers from their pain as they expressed their gratitude. Their Naga-like forms reverted to human appearances upon death.

“Damn it. So, where’s the Count… huh?”

The blood level in the Pits of Despair was receding, draining into the depths below.

Beneath the Pits of Despair, a deep underground passage stretched downward. Judging by its depth, it seemed to connect to the bottom of the well at Baroness Nort’s manor—the same underground pathway where Mezerry’s apostles had previously infiltrated. It appeared to lead past the iron gate that had blocked Azadine’s entry earlier.

‘Well, I’ve already been discovered anyway….’

Azadine cautiously crawled into the opening where the blood drained, making no sound.

He found himself in a massive underground hall. In the center stood a statue emanating an indescribable profane aura, surrounded by over a hundred embalmed undead mummies, undead captains equipped to lead them, two Nagas controlling the army, and Count Casel.

Azadine groaned at the sight. The numbers were far greater than expected, and they were well-equipped and ready to march at any moment.

The mummies carried gleaming barbarian swords, while the captains held shields and armor.

This immortal army, which neither ate nor drank, was prepared to march on a world suffering from drought.

Outside the village, helpless refugees had gathered—perfect prey to feed this army and increase its ranks.

‘So that’s why they left the refugees alone, quietly taking them in. They were slaughtering them to create undead soldiers. Embalming them into mummies? This is dangerous.’

The embalmed and enchanted mummies were far stronger than ordinary zombies, making them formidable undead monsters. If such an army attacked the drought-stricken Korasar, it would pose a grave threat.

Wars cannot be fought without water. A fortress surrounded by an undead army would quickly run out of supplies and die of thirst.

However, the core cities of the Eight Kingdoms were protected by the Light of the Crown. Could the undead even function under its radiance?

‘I’ll need to verify that.’

The enemy was numerous, Azadine was alone, and his arrows were running low. While his carefully selected blade remained serviceable, he could feel its condition worsening.

‘Well, I did use it to cut through their swords. Even if it exploited their weakness, it’s natural for the edge to dull.’

Despite his poor equipment and overwhelming odds, Azadine descended further to investigate.

“I’d hoped to prepare more thoroughly. The world, as always, doesn’t comply with our wishes.”

Standing before the undead army like a lord before a campaign, Count Casel spoke. Though the army was still dormant, its power would undoubtedly be immense once activated.

The Count gazed upward—toward the ceiling, specifically the passage connected to the Pits of Despair.

“The other two Messengers weren’t pushovers either, but you managed to deal with them. Truly the 108th Messenger?”

Although Azadine moved in the shadows, the Count seemed to notice his approach. With his cover blown, stealth was no longer an option.

“Yes, the 108th Messenger.”

Azadine landed atop the statue. The Naga women flicked their tongues in outrage at his desecration of their idol, but Azadine, already branded a heretic among humans, wasn’t concerned by the condemnation of creatures like them.

“So, the other Messengers must have been blind. You, the 108th? The two above were strong, but they must have been trash compared to you.”

“Rank doesn’t necessarily prove strength. It’s good to be ranked high, but being lower doesn’t… matter. Besides, they were stronger when they were still Messengers.”

Azadine glared at the Count. Though his mask obscured his absent eyes, the Count felt the sharpness of Azadine’s gaze.

“Hmm… are you angry because I insulted the Messenger Clan? I like you even more. Are you sure you won’t reconsider switching sides? I won’t ask you to become a Naga—I have use for human servants too. I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I want the Heavenly King’s Book of Truth.”

“Ah, that’s a bit difficult.”

“Then negotiations are off.”

“Off? Then you’ll die. After shredding you to pieces, we’ll take this army outside and massacre the refugees gathered there. Our craftsmen will select suitable bodies among the corpses to embalm into mummies while we continue to advance, destroying everything in our path and taking over Korasar.”

The Count laughed as he finished speaking.

“Do you truly believe you can conquer the world with an undead army? They won’t last under the Light of the Crown.”

Azadine questioned him about this vulnerability.