Western Krata.

“D-Damn it! Why is the Saintess doing this?!”

“Shouldn’t His Majesty be here?”

“We’re all going to die…!”

Ezer’s army was bearing down on them. Krata’s soldiers were resisting, but only in the most reactive way.

Against Ezer’s forces—which were effectively a coalition of Blue Tower mages and elves—Krata’s soldiers were helpless.

“They’re faster than I expected.”

Tia watched the scene and spoke calmly.

“At this rate, we’ll reach the capital in no time.”

Things were going well. Her gaze shifted.

“Lilien.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“I think it’s time I went to where Clay is.”

At that, Lilien’s expression froze.

“Your Majesty!”

“Did I say that too openly?”

Tia studied her face.

“You swore to follow me, so I’d like you to understand.”

“…”

Lilien looked like she didn’t know how to respond. Tia continued.

“If this front is this flimsy, then it’s likely the bulk of Krata’s forces are concentrated where Clay is. I think you can handle things here without me, so I’ll leave you in charge and go.”

Lilien snapped back to herself and waved her hands.

“You can’t, Your Majesty! Do you mean to cross all the way to the east alone?”

“Not alone.”

Elves were already gathering at Tia’s side.

“I’ll take a small elite force and hit Krata’s eastern army.”

Even with the supreme commander saying something as unthinkable as heading straight toward the Demon King, Lilien could do nothing but swallow hard.

Because the decision had already been made.

No matter who tried to stop her, Tia would do as she wished.

“Lilien.”

Tia gave her a direct order.

“Play the role of supreme commander for once.”

“Your Majesty—”

“Rexton said he wouldn’t.”

Tia began walking.

“You will, won’t you?”

The look she gave was cold, making it clear this was no request.

“…Yes.”

Lilien could only answer that way. Tia smiled as if nothing had happened and moved on, a dozen elves following her.

That left only Lilien.

“Sigh…”

When Tia left the battlefield, Ezer’s soldiers wavered. By contrast, Krata’s soldiers regained their composure and began fighting back fiercely.

“This is insane.”

The Emperor of Ezer was no longer even paying attention to her own forces. Tia was a woman ruined by regret—acting only to try and undo it.

But Lilien was not. She drew her sword for the people here.

“Captain!”

“The enemy’s defensive line has strengthened!”

“Give the order!”

Hearing her subordinates’ cries, Lilien acted quickly. She ordered the elves Tia had left behind to strategically assault the enemy.

When the highly mobile elves broke their formation, Ezer’s soldiers poured into the gaps to isolate pockets of Kratan troops and wipe them out.

“Gahh!”

“Damn it, we’re surrounded!”

It was a tactic made possible only because the Ezer coalition’s numbers here exceeded the enemy’s. Krata’s soldiers couldn’t even attempt to rescue their surrounded comrades—trying to break the encirclement would only get more of them trapped.

Multiple pockets formed. Krata’s forces could no longer maintain a proper defensive formation.

“Shit!”

“Retreat!”

As Lilien was pursuing the fleeing Kratan soldiers—

“—Utterly pathetic.”

A sudden voice made her turn her head. An old man was standing there.

“You—”

The instant she recognized him, his sheathed sword swept toward her.

“Ghhk!”

It was only the scabbard, but the blow sent her flying. Ezer’s coalition troops stopped in their tracks, and the Kratan soldiers halted their retreat.

“No way…”

“Shit!”

“That’s—!”

Before them stood none other than the highest authority of Krata—

Lutan von Lagnarich.

“The throne is in the capital…”

Yet here he was, smiling faintly.

“You’re wasting your time.”

He lifted his arms.

“Did you think you could win so easily?”

Drawing his blade from its sheath, he chuckled.

“Let’s see you try.”

He was only an old emperor—but the aura that spread from him was not something any ordinary man could possess.

“Of course… that’s assuming you live long enough to act.”

Whshhh—

He swung his sword horizontally. That was all—

KWOOM!

—but along its arc, a deafening explosion blasted Ezer’s soldiers away.

“Uwaaagh!”

A weapon that could turn the tide had entered the field. Even the Kratan troops who had been fleeing now regained their fighting spirit.

“His Majesty is here!”

“Long live Emperor Lutan!”

The Kratan soldiers, unlike the disorganized Ezer coalition, roared in triumph as they faced what they believed was their strongest asset—Lutan himself.

How…? The Emperor of Krata?

Lilien’s expression froze in shock as she pushed herself off the ground.

When Tia had spoken to her from a distance, the background behind Lutan had clearly been the imperial palace in Krata’s capital.

It was all a ruse.

If he’d deliberately made it look that way while preparing this situation, then Tia had walked right into his trap—marching off to Clay and effectively handing over the coalition here.

“Well then, now that I’m here…”

Lutan swung his sword again.

“…you have nothing to fear.”

BOOM!

An explosion ripped along the arc of his blade. Ezer soldiers were thrown aside, and Blue Tower mages scrambled to erect barriers and counterattack with spells.

Magic projectiles streaked toward Lutan, only to be swatted aside by his sword.

“Too slow to match my pace.”

“—!”

In a flash, he was among the Blue Tower mages. The light at his feet marked the holy power he had just used.

“You—!”

One mage began to cast, but Lutan’s blade came down first.

“Argh!”

An arm flew through the air. Lutan didn’t even glance at the fallen mage—he simply kept swinging. Bodies came apart along the trail of his blade.

That’s…

Krata’s ultimate weapon.

Watching soldiers and mages alike collapse helplessly before him, Lilien could only gape soundlessly.

“Lutan!”

Ezer’s champion, Rexton, rushed him, but after only a few exchanged blows he was sent sprawling.

“Rexton!”

At her cry, Lutan turned. Lilien’s breath caught at the look in his eyes—pure death.

Her body froze. She couldn’t move as he approached.

“This war will end in my victory.”

And his blade fell—

♧

“Lutan likely went west.”

Eastern Krata.

Here, the Demon King’s Army had already crushed the Kratan forces and taken position.

“Or rather, his sword went there.”

“His… sword?”

From where he sat in the command tent, recovering his strength, Clay’s words made Geshkafor frown.

“Can a sword move on its own?”

“Mm.”

Syltanaro, in human form beside Clay, made a soft, knowing sound.

“Ahem!”

Geshkafor cleared his throat at the sight of her.

“Well, I suppose I’ve heard that holy swords can move on their own. Is it something like that?”

“Yes.”

Lutan possessed a Soul Sword. It wasn’t originally his to have, but his greed for prolonging his life had driven him to pressure the continent’s finest craftsmen into making one.

“A replica—not the genuine article, but close enough not to dismiss.”

While not the real thing, his copy was near enough in quality to be dangerous.

“He usually avoids using it for fear of damaging it, but the sword’s ability likely forced his hand.”

It could create a duplicate of its wielder.

“The sword can mimic its master’s appearance, and some of their abilities—though only up to about half their actual strength.”

“Half…”

Geshkafor let out a low whistle.

“Even so, isn’t Lutan considered the strongest in Krata? Half his power would still be terrifying.”

“Exactly.”

Even at half strength, a replica of Lutan would be devastating.

“But, my lord, how do you know the sword went west?”

“Because Lutan’s not afraid of me.”

The Demon King had already been defeated once—not by Clay, but still.

“Krata probably learned a lot about me while I was their prisoner. Even now, they’d think they have enough information to judge me.”

Which left only one person worth testing.

“The sword can’t stray too far from its true master. Using the information he has, Lutan would want to probe the Saintess’s capabilities—while keeping himself safe.”

“…It sounds like you’ve been through this before.”

“When I was the Hero and came to Krata, Lutan pulled the same stunt.”

He’d called it a joke back then, but it had been to measure Clay’s strength.

“Lutan’s that kind of man. Blinded by greed, but never reckless when hunting prey.”

“Then… should we send aid west?”

Clay’s brow twitched.

“What?”

“Oh, I mean—we could take advantage of the sword targeting the Saintess to move in and destroy it.”

Clay sighed.

“There’s no guarantee the sword would still be there by the time we arrive. It’s probably already over.”

“R-right… true enough.”

Syltanaro exhaled sharply and shot Geshkafor a glare, which he avoided by turning his head.

“Either way, Lutan’s range is limited. Cherishing his own skin like he does, it’s no wonder Krata will end up with only its capital left.”

Clay spoke with mocking ease.

Lutan… was this shattered kingdom really worth your greed?

He almost felt a sense of futility—until he sensed something unusual.

“My lord!”

Syltanaro’s eyes widened in the same instant. Seeing their reaction, Geshkafor stood in confusion as Clay rushed out of the tent.

And there he saw her—

“Clay.”

Surrounded by Demon King’s Army troops, with a group of elves at her back—

Tia.

“Let’s talk.”

(End of Chapter)

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