A Glowing Light

To Richard, the Unpassable Wall was a name he had only heard of a few days ago, a mere token in his memory. He didn’t care about its history; to him, the past was to be thrown in the trash. However, as his eyes fell upon the sturdy stone wall and the warriors guarding below, the pressure on him started to mount.

This wasn’t just a wall; it was also the holy sanctuary of the natives that their warriors would protect with flesh and blood. The rune knights actually slowed down their charge despite their unshakeable will; the number of enemies they needed to kill for every single inch advanced was starting to grow larger and larger.

The guardians of this wall were now running out like madmen, roaring with contorted faces as they rushed at the attackers. These soldiers had long since forgotten even the basics of combat, and they didn’t even bother to protect themselves. All their blood-laced eyes could see was the charging enemies, and their hearts beat solely to thrust their weapons into these demons.

Even in death these locals weren’t easy to deal with. They clung to the rune knights’ blades with rigid hands, forcing them to waste precious time throwing the corpses away. The knights brandished their weapons with all their might, but their movements grew more and more sluggish as the sea of bodies continued to flow in.

Slowly, but surely, their wounds began to grow.

Richard was starting to pant, hot blood rolling down his face. Most was from enemies he had slain, but he had reached a point where he was now bleeding himself. Carnage would never be soaked with blood, but it grew heavier in his hands with each passing moment. His training in the Land of Dusk had taught him to take out small groups of powerful enemies, not an endless horde of suicidal maniacs.

All around them were the bodies of enemies and discarded weapons. The shadowspear knights continued to fight tirelessly, not lacking energy at all, but the rune knights were starting to flag. They had no lack of energy— he had made sure to conserve their strength for this charge— but their morale was plummeting. For most of them, it was their first time on the other end of a mass of lunatics.

It wasn’t just the rune knights; his own followers were starting to wane as well. They were hesitating to kill these local soldiers, and each moment of hesitation before a kill was stacking up into a delay that he could feel.

*Pop!* Richard pulled the dagger-form back out of Carnage, wielding the shorter blade in his left hand and the now one-handed shortsword in his right. Both blades danced wildly like petals floating in the sky, cutting apart seven enemy soldiers nearby to reduce the pressure on his followers. However, even more ran in to fill the gap, not even caring for their own dead comrades as they stampeded across the corpses.

Richard’s eyes furrowed; he could handle this, but the reduced morale was starting to become a real issue.

“AAAAH!” A rune knight suddenly screamed in anguish as he was dragged off his horse, pulled away from his squad while sustaining multiple attacks. His steed was cut apart limb from limb, and despite his best efforts the knight couldn’t resist the pile of bodies that were trying to cut into him. Those who couldn’t use weapons were even trying to get to him with their nails and teeth!

Terrifying wails resounded through the battlefield.

Richard’s brows furrowed and he issued a silent command to Zangru, who approached from the darkness and stealthily tossed a javelin into the pile of bodies on the rune knight. The javelin pierced through multiple enemies before burying itself into the man’s chest, the power within shredding all his organs apart. Still, his screams lasted several more moments before the voice died down; one could only imagine the sheer agony before his death.

Richard sensed the rune knights slowing down further. The Unpassable Wall was still before them, flickering in and out of view with the flames of the night. It seemed extremely far away, almost unreachable. He finally felt a real sense of danger; if this carried on, he would have to pay a tremendous cost to break down that wall.

However, he was already pushing his limits at command, sending an order to every squad every few seconds. His godlike control of the battlefield would not materialise if his men were starting to doubt him or themselves. He had already grown numb to the icy battlefield in the Land of Dusk, but his followers hadn’t yet reached that level of detachment.

‘What would that man do?’ He had asked himself this question innumerable times by now, but this time a volcanic silhouette flashed across his mind. Silhouette…

Richard suddenly felt his blood surging. He immediately took out the Book of Holding and extracted all of the spells he had stored within, not launching them but instead absorbing the mana to fuel his Mana Armament. Both blades started glowing crimson once more, and every spell and strike was boosted by the power of his truename. Dizmason and Schloan activated in tandem, one boosting his power and the other his recovery.

And then, he activated his final trump card.

*BOOM!* A loud explosion rocked the field as he launched a fireball up close, using the momentary limelight to cast an illumination spell right above his own body. He was covered from head to toe in shining light, and as he issued a series of commands to his followers and soldiers they regrouped into a mesmerising drill formation.

He then walked forwards, placing himself at the very tip.

Before anyone could react, Richard had already buffed himself with extra speed and dexterity, adding multiple barriers against all kinds of attacks. Finally, he activated a bloodline ability he hadn’t used in the longest time— Eruption. Both blades of Carnage were raised high into the air and pointed towards the Unpassable Wall, “FOLLOW ME!”

Only when Richard rushed right into the enemy horde did the rest of his followers react. Tiramisu roared, his voice travelling tens of kilometres as he drummed on his own chest. His eyes turned crimson as he crouched down for a moment, the same crimson sparking around the rest of his body as he charged forward into the enemy soldiers. Eight people were sent flying with one strike, and a follow-up kick crushed another three to the ground. Yet, he wasn’t the fastest to react. Gangdor didn’t roar, didn’t even shout his catchphrase. The brute just rushed into the enemy soldiers and started killing them silently, blood flying with every swing of his axe.

And Gangdor wasn’t the fastest either. Phaser had disappeared, Waterflower had disappeared, Zangru had disappeared. All three assassins had melded into the darkness in an instant, cutting down one enemy after the other in absolute silence.

Richard continued to swing his blades, even the smallest of cuts pulling out a fountain of blood. Lifesbane remained true to its name, reaping dozens of lives with every minute. He was covered in the mixed blood of enemies, allies, and himself. Various parts of his body stung, but with each wound suffered he only grew faster. There was only one goal in his mind; he had to pass that damned wall! Even if a forest of blades were in the way, even if a wall of flesh was blocking him, he had to move on!

His body dazzled under the ball of light, marking the path for everyone behind.

A blade suddenly snaked in from amidst the rest of the local soldiers, heading straight for his waist. Richard shuddered violently; this attack was far too silent to be coming from a weak foe. An opposing saint hidden amongst the soldiers had finally found a chance to attack!

However, he didn’t have the spare energy to parry or dodge. He just roared in anger, stepping forward despite the attack as he breathed abyssal flames out at the enemies in front. Even if he died, he would do so moving forward!

As the threat of death loomed over him, he finally understood why Gaton was always at the tip of every charge, the most dangerous place in a battle. Only with his own body illuminating the path ahead did he understand that generals commanded their soldiers to kill, rulers asked them to follow.

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