Tale of the Fake Hero

February 28, 1698. Purple City, Aurelinople, Western Plain of Levento.

[The only way to prevent the desertification from reaching the Red Mountains is to recapture the city.]

Humanity regained their field of vision due to the waves generated by the barrier stones.

Following the clear path, ranks of light and dust advanced in an orderly manner.

The 400,000-strong force of the reorganized 1st Field Army targeted the frontal, that is, the northern gate of Aurelinople.

[Starting with the 1st Field army, the entire 2nd and 3rd Field armies are moving south, to the outskirts of the city.]

The sight was truly spectacular.

Light filtered through dust being kicked up over the ground, and above, the sound of the wind along with flapping griffin wings fluttered over the field.

[We’ve identified the enemy garrisons in each direction now that the volcanic ash has cleared. Commanders can plan strategies against the enemies they’ll be facing.]

In accordance with the issuance of a military alert, that was, an order for general mobilization, all troops except for a minimum defense force were deployed before the main attack.

Later, history recorded the number of military personnel involved on that day to be 1,111,756 people.

It was an all-out war in which all of the troops from the two southern countries and all of the Fake Warriors were deployed, and if that decisive battle were lost, humanity would not survive.

[The Iron Cross opens the way. The Iron Castle and Dragon Hammer Corps will cover the north gate at the vanguard of the 2nd sector, and in the 3rd sector, the Piljung Corps will cover the east gate.]

Kaisen looked back at the advancing cavalry, shaking the earth, and the ranks of the Knights of the Iron Cross running through.

Tens of thousands of flags… Like one unified creature, the flags hovered over the soldiers marching in a unified cadence.

“The Heavenly Castle ordered our Iron Cross to lead the frontal attack.”

Balland Kingdom, The Third Republic of Calon, The Kingdom of Hossen, The Duchy of Anima, The Duchy of Berne, etc…

They were all famous countries in the south, and their soldiers lost their homes a long time ago. The idea of returning to their lost homes was replaced by the reality unfolding in the dust.

“Ha! The declining 2nd Hai-Khun-Tark Clan, huh?! A worthy opponent for our Iron Cross!” Teval exclaimed.

“The Kiral Clan has the most modern system and enormous power. Just look at how they are filling the horizon right n一” Mern tried to scold him.

SUddenly, in front of them, at the castle of Aurelinople—a city amidst the drifting volcanic ash—powerful catapults, three times the normal size, tilted one by one.

“Simultaneous bombardment from the front! It’s a troll siege battery!” someone shouted.

Alidona took a scroll from her belt, unrolled it, and shouted, “I will build a barrier, so everyone should slow down and halt the advance.”

The giant projectiles crashed into her barrier. As soon as the fragments settled, the Knights of the Iron Cross passed through the barrier.

Teval, wearing his black iron helmet’s faceplate, shouted, “Ha! How many trolls are there? I love seeing so many willing targets!”

“Captain, seeing that there are so many trolls, I think there must be ogres as well. We need to be careful.”

“I agree.”

Ogres were a variant of trolls that underwent physical and mental mutations due to the influence of the abyss. According to scholars, unlike trolls, they could think and even spit out words.

The troll race’s advantage was its overwhelming strength, but its weakness was its dull intelligence.

“It is never pleasant to equip such a foe with intelligence. You guys, who will be Fake Warriors, will have to take care of them.”

Rachel, the instructor at the Temple of the Sword of Bravery, emphasized that the Fake Warriors would have to take care of them because countless deaths had already occurred in the name of loyalty against that irrational force.

Ogres were equipped with irrational force and a deep will, and humanity had no choice but to use irrational force against them.

“Our main target is the Kiral Clan. Let’s think about everything else after breaking through them.”

* * *

The wind in the wilderness in front of Aurelinople’s west gate was fierce, sweeping volcanic ash and dust across the wasteland and whipping at the soldiers charging forth.

Above the deserted wilderness, the sound of the Kiral Clans wolves’ howling echoed.

“Auuuuuuu…”

“Auuuuuuuuuu…”

“Auuuuuuuuuuuu…”

The tearing howls reverberated in the volcanic ash, making the sound even more terrifying.

The war horses flared their nostrils.

“Iron Cross, spears up!”

The horses gathered speed, and countless monster wolves poured from the volcanic ash.

“20 seconds until collision!”

The Kiral Clan’s emblem, the Roaring Wolf’s banner, danced on the flags of the clan’s bannermen.

The bloody smell of the wolves and the battle song of the Kiral Clan uruks felt extremely familiar to Kaisen.

‘Familiar? no…’

Rather than being familiar, it felt spiritual.

Almost a year, no, over a year prior, it was exactly the same as the day he replayed over and over again in his head.

“The Kiral Clan. They’re originally a clan that occupied the ‘Jullard Plains’, the most fertile land in the demonic world, south of the Manri Flames.”

Because the plains were wide and the mountains were far away, skilled warriors and wolves multiplied explosively there. Equipped with the administrative skills they learned while plundering humankind, they ruled their army in an orderly manner.

That staggering number had always posed a huge danger to humanity.

“3rd Seat, Eltyre Alter Pladimarte, fought and defeated the old chief, Zukan, in the defense of Aurelinople, and his 2nd son, Kishe, inherited the position of chief.”

“Instructor, what happened to the 1st son?”

“That’s a good question. The guy over there, who is busy thinking about something else, is the one who killed him, so if you have any questions, ask him directly.”

Back then, Kaisen hadn’t been able to focus on the class. Every time he heard the name ‘Kiral’, the memories of that time came back, and the pain of that day struck him again.

The pungent odor of blood, the groans of the dying, the mutilated corpses of his friends, and…

“Kaisen, I said it before, but if you lose your temper, I will not send my men to protect you. Understood?”

Even though the enemy of his boyhood was right in front of him, his mind was surprisingly calm. No, would it be better to say it was cold rather than calm?

Kaisen felt a deadly force colder than death creaking deep within him.

“Ha! Kiral bastards, I’ll show you the taste of my dragon spear!” Teval shouted.

Kaisen spurred Bloodwing onward and advanced as the vanguard. Suffering the sharp pain in his heart, his left hand was already on his scabbard while his right hand held his sword.

“Rokta! Human slabs of meat are a laughingstock! Coming at this Aktkor, of Kiral’s fearless Kiranzuki, assault force!” The wolves, hungry for human flesh and blood, ran toward the humans with their mouths dripping saliva.

Above them, the Kiral Clan warriors’ metal armor sparkled as they shouted battle cries.

The moment the blade of the holy sword was pulled from its pure-white scabbard, it turned red.

Disintegrating Strike—

With the first strike, about 100 warriors were slaughtered.

“Bak to…?!”

With the second strike, the heads of over 200 wolves rose into the air, creating a mist of blood.

“What…?!”

With the third strike, the defeated Kiral assault force scattered left and right.

[Kaisen Alter Aradamantel pierced through the Kiral Clan assault force head-on…!]

[Amazing! The Kiral Clan was unable to stop Kaisen Alter Aradamantel!]

[High-risk abyss agent approaching Kaisen at high speed!]

* * *

Reaper Scans

Translator – Rainypup

Proofreader – ilafy

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* * *

A wolf twice as large as a normal one rushed toward Kaisen, who was preparing for the fourth strike.

Bloodwind immediately stood on his hind legs, causing the fangs that were trying to bite him to meet nothing but air.

The warhorse and wolf collided, followed by an explosive metallic sound that rang in everyone’s ears.

Claaaaang—!

The uruk on the wolf was a giant with unnaturally gray skin. His bizarre armor and gauntlets, which seemed to have been made by weaving together sand particles one by one, created a sand storm.

The uruk’s face was familiar.

“I looked forward to the day I could kill you on the battlefield, Kaisen Kishunkalihatz.”

Kishe had previously accepted the results of the Kaltake and let Kaisen go. Yet, fate destined for them to meet again. A year had passed.

They were each other’s enemies, but both their strength and appearance had changed incomparably compared to a year prior.

“You…” Kaisen’s voice wouldn’t come out. The anger congealing in the hole in his chest—rotting away inside his body—blocked his vocal cords.

“Don’t let anyone intervene! This guy is my prey. I will crush your head right here and now and place it on my brother’s grave,” the uruk yelled.

Aradamantel’s blade and the gauntlets blessed by an Old King collided countless times, and a fierce wind blew around them.

Unable to speak, Kaisen was muttering absentmindedly in his mind. ‘Hey, Kishe… do you know? From that day, when you killed my second family. Do you know how many times I killed you in my head…?’

‘How many hundreds of thousands of times… No, how I swore so many times that I lost count that, with my own hands, I would annihilate all of you, the Kiral Clan, without leaving a single one of you on this earth…?’

‘Yeah…’

He would be fulfilling his pledge that day.

Before he aimed for Balkrush, who was hiding beyond his reach, he would first bury Kishe.

Shliiiiiink—!

The concentrated power of the abyss exploded from the gauntlet, intensifying the sandstorm.

Lava and sand had long been the authority of the Ancient King, Neigalas. His power could turn everything it caught into dirt and sand, but it was blocked by Kaisen’s crossed sword and scabbard.

“Captain, Kaisen is banned from using his dragon spirit but is still fighting one-on-one with the Kiral Clan chief…”

“Take cover and clear the way!”

“Kasas, you’re in the right place! Get it over with, Kishe!”

Kaisen’s helmet and armor crumbled into sand, his skin cracked, and his muscles hardened.

Just as Kishe was preparing the finishing blow to end the fight…

Kaisen returned Aradamantel to its pure-white scabbard in a gentle action that seemed reverential in nature. It was difficult to think of him as a swordsman on a chaotic battlefield. Instead, he gave off the serene and holy image of a monk praying in a quiet cathedral.

When all the red energy was sucked into the sheath, he didn’t look human in the slightest.

Cross Sword Style – 4th Form, Shoot.

He’s seen and practiced the form hundreds of times. When he took the stance just before the enemy’s finishing blow, pieces of memoirs fluttered through his mind like flower petals in the winds.

Familiar sights, smells, sensations…

Cross Sword Style – 12th Form…

He heard the faint laughter of the White Bone Corps soldiers as they told obscene stories.

He felt the warmth of Kamila’s fingers as she corrected his posture and moved his head.

And, also…

Void of Annihilation.

As if unfolding all those memories and pulling them into a void of darkness, he pulled his trembling blade from the scabbard just as Kishe’s swung. The blade of light cut through the sandstorm, pierced the sandy armor and skin of his enemy, passed through the uruk’s ribs and heart, and soared upward.

“Yeah, you son of a bitch. I’ll teach you, I’ll teach! So annoying, really.”

Aradamantel roared several decibels louder than usual as it struck the enemy at a speed mortal eyes dared not follow.

“This is the last form of the Cross Sword Style.”

The style’s final form, which left dozens of ultra-fine strands of sword aura in its wake that cut into the target’s body countless times before exploding, was, ultimately, a vertical slash.

“The 12th form is very difficult to use, but at its peak, it can surely kill quite a few enemies. Here, try it.”

At that very moment, Kishe’s body soared through the air following the slash, and countless fragments of memory spilled into their surroundings.

The gauntlets of sand tumbled across the wasteland.

Bloodwind trampled the unclean object with his hoof and snorted.

The sound brought the combatants back to reality. For a moment, the only sound on the battlefield was the whisper of sand blowing in the wind. Joy and sorrow mingled on both sides.

“Ruk no… this can’t be happening…”

“Wow, Kaisen did it again! Even without dragon spirit, he killed a 2nd Hai-Khun-Tark chief…!”

“Is this the time to be amazed? Let’s annihilate these bastards!”

The path before Kaisen opened.

The 1st Field Army, led by the Knights of the Iron Cross, attacked and annihilated the Kiral Clan cavalry.

All of it was watched from the World Tree.

“Aurelinople’s opening battle… Despite the overwhelming forces, our troops are moving forward!”

“The enemy has lost their command structure and is dispersing! Confusion is spreading among the troops!”

“Most counterattacks were blocked by the Knights of the Iron Cross!”

A sad smile appeared on Setsunen’s lips as she gazed at the battlefield reflected on the lake’s surface with her Electrical Reverberance Formation deployed.

‘Truly, Raminea… So this is your son… He resembles you and lights up this dark world with his sword. By taking after you, he is using his sword to create hope in this hopeless world.’

‘Because he resembles you… It seems unbearably painful for him to walk the path of the sword.’’

The emotion dominating that child’s heart was not the pleasure of killing or the pleasure of revenge, but sadness…

No matter whose death he offered as a sacrifice, no matter what revenge he completed, the crushing sadness came from the renewed realization that those who had already died couldn’t be replaced…

‘Just like with you, I can’t help but want to lessen his pain and sadness… As always, I can only watch helplessly as my heart breaks for him…’