Volume 3 Chapter 196 The Battle Of Azincourt 2️⃣
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Looking down at the wetlands from the sky—
Kian twisted his neck, one arm still wrapped around Linca's waist. Below them, on the blackened soil that stretched endlessly, shadows of people gathered like dense storm clouds.
All of them were enemies.
He had to wipe them out from this moment forward.
Can I really do it──?
Kian asked himself inwardly.
He had prepared his magical forces. He had significantly weakened the enemy's main fighting power.
By calculation alone, he should be able to claim victory without issue.
And yet… this was Kian's first true battle.
There were no absolutes in warfare. The unexpected could always strike.
It was entirely possible he might be defeated simply due to inexperience or a failure to adapt on the fly.
If that happens… what will I do?
(So this is what anxiety feels like. The fear that ordinary people experience.)
It was a far cry from the excitement he felt when he dreamt of clashing with the mighty Knights of the Sun, like Oswald.
But now, with comrades at his side, it was a feeling he had to understand—if he was truly going to fight alongside them.
He turned his face forward, gaze locking onto the Owl Knights stationed in front of the magical fortress built atop the hill.
Thanks to his vampiric sight, he could clearly make out their expressions—even at this distance.
Everyone wore the same grim look as they faced the overwhelming tide of Beastmen surging across the horizon.
Not one person was smiling.
They all understood: they might very well lose their lives here.
And yet, still—they stood firm, resolved to protect the town, the street, of Ramsey that lay behind them.
They would be the shield—the first and last line of defense for the holy troops preparing their magic within the fortress.
If even one Beastman slipped through their barrage, the Owl Knights would likely be the ones to face them in direct combat.
If someone like Arminus charged in… they'd be split in half before they could even raise their swords.
'You were laughing even when you fought Oswald, weren't you?'
(Even?)
'Don't you see? You're still laughing now.'
The teasing voice came from Talia, flying beside him.
Kian reached up and touched his mouth.
Sure enough—the corners were curled up.
He was smiling.
(It's inappropriate… I just got so excited thinking I'd get to fight Arminus, it slipped out.)
'Well, having that mindset is better than despair,' Talia said cheerfully.
"Linca. Let me down before we reach the Hill of Azancourt."
"Huh?" Linca tilted her head in surprise, glancing at him while still guiding Nue through the sky. "Why?"
"I'm going to give a speech. I want to ease everyone's tension before the battle."
He pointed downward, where a warhorse waited at the base of the hill. "I plan to make my entrance from there."
"I-I see…"
"It wouldn't look right to arrive while clinging to a delicate lady's waist, would it?"
"I am not delicate!" Linca pouted.
"But to the soldiers, you seem like a lady worthy of protection. Just bring us down a bit."
Linca huffed softly but nodded, pulling gently at Nue's fur.
The grotesque beast's massive wings flapped once as it began a descent, slowing into a circular glide.
Without waiting for the altitude to fully drop, Kian leapt off Nue's back.
"Now, Kian. Continue the grand adventure. Let us dance gloriously across the battlefield together," Talia declared with dramatic flair.
"Yeah… Let's fight together, Talia," Kian whispered, smiling to himself.
Linca hovered in place, worry etching itself across her face.
"Um… Kian?" she called hesitantly.
"What is it?"
"…You're not planning to run off somewhere, are you?"
"────What are you even saying?" he replied, blinking. "The battlefield's right ahead. Not exactly heading out for a picnic."
He pointed toward the waiting warhorse.
"A-ah… yeah, right. I don't know why I even asked…" Linca said, her gaze flickering uncertainly.
"Um… then I'll go on ahead to the hill."
"Yeah."
With a nod from Kian, she turned Nue back toward the fortress.
Kian moved toward the horse Serena had arranged.
He reached out and gently patted its silver-armored flank.
It was a hybrid beast—part monster, part steed—from Ramsey's Adventurer Guild.
Chosen for its power and speed, it was as massive as a Kelpie, with thick, muscular legs and a strong, gallant frame.
"────"
He climbed into the saddle.
Clad in shimmering Silver Ice armor, Kian looked like a warrior from a tale spun by bards.
And yet, his skin was brown. His hair, jet black—not the typical look of those in the Western lands.
He was a foreigner to these people, different in blood and race from the ones who steeled themselves atop Azancourt Hill.
But that didn't matter.
To inspire them, he had to show them that none of that mattered at all.
He closed his eyes for a moment—then opened them, his gaze sharp with the spirit of a warrior.
With a kick of his heels, he charged forward.
Up the hill he galloped.
He hoped they would see him—like a silver wind sweeping across the battlefield.
The thunder of hooves echoed.
Kian leapt atop the enchanted hill, reinforced with magic.
All eyes turned toward him—Knights in formation, tense and silent, locked their gazes onto the gallant rider in silver.
Kian dashed straight past the 150 warriors lined in a precise row.
Ten seconds. That's all it took to reach the end.
Then he turned and galloped back again.
The morning sun caught his armor, casting brilliant reflections across the hill.
He slowed, riding to the center and turning his head left and right to meet the eyes of the Knights.
Their faces, pale beneath steel helms, stared at him—some in awe, others with unspoken hope.
Many of their red flags, embroidered with Ramsey's golden wheat, fluttered proudly.
Kian raised his voice.
"Do you want words?"
* * *
"Do you want words? There is only one."
Kian's voice rang loud across the hill.
The Knights, stiff with tension, listened silently.
Behind the fortress, Natra, Rufna, Sarah, and Serena appeared.
The sacred squad took their place behind the Owl Knights.
Further back stood Linca and Marilyn, with Bertrand, Botti, Aerial—and the massive Nue.
Even the "Eyes of the Lords" emerged, mounted on their horses, drawn by Kian's voice.
"It doesn't matter if it's here or on the streets of Ramsey," he continued. "The words are the same."
No matter how many people gathered—no matter the place—his message would not change.
Kian swung his armored arm forward, slicing the air.
"I want to see children running again… playing in these golden wheat fields!"
He took a breath, voice deepening.
"I want to see the families you love—your people—smiling, laughing, holding wheat in their hands!"
He dismounted, landing heavily with a thud.
Serena stepped forward to take the reins.
"Everyone will die. Death is always beside us."
He placed a hand on his chest.
Then, he stepped forward and pressed a fist gently against a Knight's chestplate.
"If today is the day… then let me be the first to fall. I'll die in your place."
He moved through the line, voice rising with each step.
"Or perhaps it'll be the other way. If I fall, I'll do so fighting to protect the innocent!"
He passed the Knights and stood before the sacred squad.
Their eyes followed him, their breaths held.
"I am Azraelian. My homeland lies far from here. Some of you might know how that feels."
He raised his voice.
"But if we protect Ramsey today—this place becomes my second homeland!"
He pointed to the earth.
"Here! Now! You are no longer just soldiers—you are the defenders of Ramsey!"
"────""……""────""……"
"This is your land now! Fight for it!"
Kian's voice wavered just slightly.
Memories of his old homeland—of Vahid's domain, now lost to Jibril—rose unbidden in his mind.
"Fill this land with your people! Don't let anyone take it from you! Make it yours!"
He clenched his fist, raising it high, and shouted from deep within his soul.
"This is Ramsey! Not the Beastmen's! This is OUR Ramsey! It must not be taken from us! Push them back! Drive them out! Fill this earth with our voices—let them know, this is OUR land!"
Kian slowly turned his gaze across the army.
One by one, he locked eyes with the warriors.
No words needed to be exchanged. In that silent gaze, courage passed between them.
At last, stepping once more to the front, he looked toward the sky.
"Brave ones… You can do this!"
No one cheered.
No grand bardic shout echoed across the hill.
But the fear in the Knights' breaths… was beginning to fade.
At the edge of his vision, Kian saw Guy smile faintly, eyes lowered.
And then—
A roar erupted in the distance.
The Beastmen Alliance had begun their charge.
The rumbling of their war cry reached even this far.
One by one, the Knights lowered their visors, faces vanishing beneath their helms.
Kian turned toward the magic fortress.
"Rufna. Sarah. Linca. Get into position—begin the chant."
* * *
It seemed that the Beastmen had no concept of forming ranks.
As the deep rumble from beyond the horizon reached them, dark silhouettes stretched across the land like spilled ink on parchment, slowly creeping across the table of earth.
Even before the other tribes arrived.
Even faster than warriors from different families within the same tribe.
Those who reached Ramsey's riches first would seize its wealth. And so, they charged forth, heedless and wild.
Could that even be called a legion—or an army—anymore?
For a small and poorly equipped Beastmen tribe, they were no more than mountain bandits with little more than bloodlust and hunger. But in sheer numbers alone, the Beastmen Alliance's soldiers surpassed the definition of thieves. Three thousand warriors roaring as they advanced—a terrifying flood of primal power.
And then, as if tearing through the stillness of the sky, Sarah's chant came to an end.
Rufna followed just a beat behind.
A massive, obsidian boulder suddenly manifested in the cloudless blue above.
No, it wasn't a mere rock—it was a meteor.
A tremendous ball of searing heat, easily ten meters across, plummeted toward the swampy black soil below.
The sky screamed. The earth trembled.
Boom.
The meteor struck like a bolt from the heavens, sending out concussive waves and furious winds. The shock reached even the distant hilltop where Kian stood, rattling the bones of all who watched.
The horizon flashed with a fierce orange brilliance, slowly fading into silence. Yet before that fire could cool—six more blazing meteors, summoned by Linca, rained down from above. With no mercy, they tore into the swamp, ravaging the path of the Beastmen charge.
It was a scene that could have only existed in the pages of a fairytale.
The beautiful orange inferno kept exploding across the horizon.
The countless shadows of warriors once seen on the edge of the battlefield… were gone.
They vanished into that blinding, consuming light.
At the farthest range, Rufna cast down meteors to cut off the retreat of the fleeing. Meanwhile, Sarah continued to call down three burning stones every ten seconds with relentless precision. Linca added her own rhythmic bombardment, delayed by a few beats but no less devastating.
No one spoke.
No one dared to.
All stood frozen in the face of the heat, the shockwaves, and the unrelenting thunder of impact after impact.
Dry explosions echoed endlessly.
To witness that world-ending storm—some may have learned for the first time what it truly meant to wage war. Not through valor or swordplay. Not with honor. No, this was destruction incarnate.
Once, war was clashing steel. Knights, proud in their armor, dueling to test strength and will.
But now, with those orange blossoms blooming in the sky—
That was a relic of the past.
'Activate,' came a voice beside Kian.
Talia's crimson eyes shimmered with focus.
At the base of the hill, the magic circuits of the beetle golems flared to life one after another. With a metallic groan, they deployed their six hidden cannons, exposed from their armored abdomens. The invasion had begun.
By now, the Beastmen elite had somehow broken through the rain of fire and emerged within one kilometer of the hill. But that terrifying wall of numbers that once surged from the horizon… had withered.
What remained were scattered shadows of stragglers.
With his enhanced vision, Kian saw them clearly.
At their head was Arminus, flanked by the Marcomanni—charred, bloodied warriors, the Black Panthers and Steel Tigers, their swords clenched in their jaws, sprinting on all fours like beasts possessed.
'Fire,' Kian commanded.
The beetle golems' cannons spun.
With a mechanical whine, stone shells—ten centimeters wide—erupted from the barrels, streaking through the air like thunderbolts. The barrage struck the incoming warriors with unrelenting force.
The desperate charge of Arminus and his comrades was shredded apart.
One by one, the Beastmen fell. Most couldn't even react, their bodies torn asunder by the hail of stone. If the meteor strike had been a fantastical scene—then this was pure hell.
In Kian's narrowed field of vision, Marcomanni's head vanished in a mist of red. His body collapsed mid-air, punched through with countless holes, vanishing like dust.
Only Arminus remained.
Muscles bulging, blade clutched in both hands, he used his bloodied flesh and greatsword as a shield. With a final, soaring leap, he collided with the beetle golem ahead, smashing it apart.
"Natra, there's no need to use Balmung," Kian said calmly, holding back the girl beside him who gripped the dragon-slaying magic sword. "It'll be easier to break through if he turns into a dragon."
"…Understood," Natra murmured, bowing and stepping back.
Kian turned toward the frozen Knights nearby, their expressions blank as they gazed down at the battlefield.
"That's Arminus, hero of the Black Panthers!" he called. "If we kill him, this war ends!"
A roar answered him.
"Kian of Izerland!!!"
Arminus had torn through multiple beetle golems. Now, with fangs bared, he howled.
"Come face me, one-on-one! Or else—!"
His body began to twist, bones snapping, muscle surging. The sound that followed—an inhuman wail—sent a shiver down the spine of every Owl Knight.
In the pale morning light, a dragon's form rose in the swamp.
A giant shadow, cloaked in scales of rainbow-tinged black, loomed. Of the triple-headed monstrosity, the central head opened its gaping crimson maw.
"Otherwise, I'll turn you all into ice statues!"
"Rufna! Sarah! Linca!" Kian shouted. "Stand down! I'll handle this one! Everyone—stay calm! As long as I'm here, this Ramsey won't fall to that dragon!"
"W-What are you planning, Lord Kian!?" Bertrand asked, his voice trembling.
Kian didn't answer.
Instead, he drew the sword-holder from his waist—the one containing both the Windsong Blade and Misty Magic Sword—and tossed it to Natra.
Kian, a voice whispered.
(Lend me your strength, Talia.)
Talia nodded silently and wrapped her arms around his neck.
She was the girl of shadows—a phantom unseen by most.
Carrying her on his back, Kian walked to the edge of the hill, unarmed.
What… what is Lord Kian trying to do?
That unspoken question passed through the minds of every noble watching. Confusion thickened the air.
Kian raised his right hand slowly.
His black eyes flared with red phosphorescence, and in his vision, seven magic swords appeared—spreading out like wings.
First Magic Sword — "Funeral Dance" (Soukoku Kagura)
Second Magic Sword — "Shadow Pierce" (Kagezuki)
Third Magic Sword — "Heavenbreaker" (Tenkaibaraki)
Fourth Magic Sword — "Thundercleave" (Raikiri)
Fifth Magic Sword — "Rend Tear" (Hizakari)
Sixth Magic Sword — "Mistcloud" (Kasumigumo)
Seventh Magic Sword — "Water Moon" (Mizuki)
(Deployment complete. All swords ready to be drawn.)
These weren't mere illusions. Crimson lightning began to swirl visibly around him.
Blood surged.
A wild, maddening heat tried to consume him.
But the ritual offerings from Sarah and Linca had tamed it, sealing the frenzy within and replacing it with a tidal wave of magic power.
"──────!"
He roared.
Something flared on his back.
The Silver Ice shattered.
From within, a massive white wing of pure light burst forth, wrapping around Kian's body.
Gasps filled the air from every soul who beheld the scene.
Kian… Now.
"Yeah, Talia," he whispered.
Then, in one soaring motion, Kian leapt into the sky.
* * *
A three-headed black dragon danced wildly through the skies.
In pursuit, a silver-clad figure soared close behind—wings of purest white stretched wide, divine armor gleaming under the morning sun.
Arminus, the black dragon, twisted midair with terrifying ease. With a fluid somersault in the vast sky, he slid behind his pursuer. The tide of battle reversed in a breath, and Kian angled downward, flapping his wings in perfect counterbalance.
"────────!"
With a shriek that shook the heavens, Arminus flared open all three claws, forming a brilliant convergence of blue light between them.
A breath attack—cold and deadly. A freezing blast was coming.
(Seventh magic sword — Water Moon ‹Mizuki›)
Kian, suspended midair as though shielding all below him, reached into the shimmering phantom of floating swords and grasped a single blade. A luxurious golden katana glinted in his hand.
As Arminus exhaled his colossal breath attack, Kian unsheathed the crimson blade in sync.
The icy breath, only a meter from his position, slammed into the sword's edge—and was absorbed entirely.
Even Oswald's legendary sun-element sword couldn't achieve such negation. Now, the demon blade snarled back.
"Wha—what is this…!?"
Arminus's three yellow eyes bulged in disbelief.
A red flash erupted. The counter shot from Water Moon (Mizuki) swallowed the dragon in an instant, blasting him downward like a meteor into the swamp's black soil. Steam burst into the air with a roar, blanketing the land in dense fog. But even the mist was scorched away by the overpowering heat of the sword's returning strike.
As the dragon rose once more, smoke rising from his charred form, Kian calmly returned Water Moon (Mizuki) to its shadow form. Without pause, he gripped the next blade.
(Third magic sword — Heavenbreaker ‹Tenkaibaraki›)
A short knife, no longer than his own hand. It looked unassuming. Its cutting edge barely suggested lethality.
But its true strength was not in the blade—it lay in what the blade could summon.
"────"
Kian lifted the knife like a conductor before a grand orchestra.
In response, over a hundred blades bloomed into existence above him, shimmering in the sky like silver stars. Each one aimed down at the dragon, now grounded and motionless. Arminus's yellow eyes twitched wide again. His wings—scorched and useless—fluttered weakly.
"Sweep shot," Kian intoned softly.
He swung the knife downward.
The floating blades followed his command and rained from the heavens.
Not piercing, but blasting.
The sound was deafening—metal crushing rock, rupturing earth. Arminus's wails rose through the thunder as his scales shattered under the bombardment.
Rivers of blood sprayed through the air, replenishing the vapor rising from the ruined swamp.
"Guuuuhhh, Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!"
Though his massive body was knocked left and right by the storm of steel, Arminus refused to fall. Even with broken wings and shattered scales, the dragon roared and kicked off the ground, leaping toward Kian from below in a final act of defiance.
(Sixth magic sword — Mistcloud ‹Kasumigumo›)
"────!?"
Kian's form dispersed into black mist—and vanished.
In the very next breath, seven figures of Kian materialized around the airborne Arminus. Each clone gripped a translucent straight sword in their right hand. The dragon's three heads whipped in different directions, trying to identify the real one.
It was already too late.
(Second magic sword — Shadow Pierce ‹Kagezuki›)
Seven curved blades glinted midair.
In an untraceable burst of movement, all seven Kians soared through the sky, carving deep into the dragon from seven different directions.
"Guaaaaaah!?"
(Fifth magic sword — Rend Tear ‹Hizakari›)
Without hesitation, Kian drew again.
The six phantoms of Kasumigumo dispersed like smoke. The true Kian now floated above Arminus, holding a brilliant holy sword in both hands. It pulsed with white light.
He raised the sword.
And then—he struck.
"────!"
The light struck the dragon's body like a hammer from the gods. No scream emerged.
The white radiance slammed Arminus into the earth with such force that the land itself quaked. Dozens of meters wide, the holy light seared the dragon's scales, scorched the swamp, and turned the earth beneath it molten red.
A river was carved—an artificial wound across the terrain. Moisture exploded into steam. The water dried. High waves formed from the vanishing river's collapse, and the marshland beyond it wilted to ash.
Rend Tear (Hizakari) wasn't merely a sword—it was a declaration of apocalypse.
And Kian could swing it endlessly, for it consumed none of his own power.
Once.
Twice.
Three times—he brought the blade down.
Each strike devoured the wetlands further. The air grew hotter. The world itself trembled.
"────"
And still—Arminus rose.
Steam hissed off bones and scorched muscle. Somehow, some way, the black dragon's inner scales had endured.
He absorbed the magic power from the Spiritual Vein beneath the battlefield—and began to regenerate.
(Fourth magic sword — Thundercleave ‹Raikiri›)
The next sword Kian drew was a curved blade with wild golden hair tangled around the hilt, like lightning captured mid-strike.
A black mist coiled around the regenerating Arminus.
Then—
Within the mist, an avalanche of slashes erupted.
Not one could be dodged. Not one could be blocked.
A storm of blades tore through flesh and bone, even as regeneration tried desperately to keep up.
"The earth is filled with blood," a soft voice whispered near his ear.
Clinging to Kian's back, Talia spoke with a voice like a distant bell.
"Kian… draw Funeral Dance (Soukoku Kagura)."
"Ah… This is the end, Arminus," Kian murmured.
From the far left of the floating swords, he drew a gargantuan greatsword—the Dambira, too vast to even be called a blade.
The obsidian edge shimmered with a malicious gleam under the rising sun.
The very earth, soaked with Arminus's blood, seemed to shudder at its presence.
This sword—Soukoku Kagura—could only be unleashed when the ground was drenched in blood.
But if the condition was met… not even spirits could survive its wrath.
Kian raised the colossal blade skyward.
The blood pooled in the earth began to rise—floating, gravity forgotten—as it was drawn toward the raised sword.
In one breath, all that blood became a sphere of glowing crimson.
Kian brought the blade down—clean, decisive—through the center.
Instantly, the orb exploded.
From it burst countless slashes made of blood itself.
Each one blinked through space, appearing and vanishing across multiple coordinates—cutting, tearing, severing—until the blood ran dry.
It ignored regeneration. It crushed souls.
Once swung, it would strike. That was the terrifying promise of the strongest of the seven swords.
The red mist around him began to fade.
What remained—
The black dragon had been reduced to dozens of chunks. Flesh. Bone. Nothing remained whole.
The aftermath was a battlefield unrecognizable.
Even the artificial river had broken, flowing into new chasms carved by the sword.
The once-wet marshland had become a cracked plain of dried earth, chessboard lines running across it like scars.
Perhaps some had survived the initial meteor bombardments. Maybe a few stood through the siege of stone and steel.
But none—no one—could withstand this.
These seven swords that Kian bore—this godlike devastation—they erased the very possibility of survival.
It was as if the Angel of Death himself had come, and this had been his sword.
With a slow breath, Kian dispelled the final sword—Funeral Dance (Soukoku Kagura).
The wings on his back folded and dissolved into the morning wind.
And in that silence, Kian stood alone before the shattered corpse of Arminus.
Not quite human anymore. Not quite god.
Just Kian—borrowing strength from Talia, now gazing upon the desolate land left in his wake.
A battlefield reduced to legend.
Notes:
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
• Arminus – Male. Leader of the Black Panther Tribe. Possesses extraordinary physical abilities, enhanced by the tribe’s unique technique that repels energy and magic attacks. His speed and strength surpass those of High Warlord Isthbaran. Wields the magic sword Balmung, capable of cleaving through an ice dragon with a single strike. His black fur provides camouflage in low visibility, making him nearly undetectable. Relationship: Leader of the Beastmen Alliance’s delegation.
• Azancourt – A location mentioned by Kian when discussing his terrain survey of Ramsey’s wetlands. Likely near Ramsey.
• Nue – A Shikigami summoned by Linca. It has the appearance of a monster with a tiger’s limbs and a monkey’s head. Nue is a powerful but dangerous creature that requires a skilled magician to control.
• Serena – Wolfmen Girl
• Bertrand – The recent knight recruited by Maribel from bandit. He is from boar tribe and have goblin-like face.
• Marilyn – Female. An elderly witch who uses a hoarse voice. She is versatile, skilled in basic magic, teleportation gates, and large-scale group chants. Despite her age, she is sturdy and capable of frontline combat. She acts as a mentor figure to Botti and Aerial.
• Aerial – Female. A modern-looking young woman with short brown hair, revealing clothes, and gaudy accessories. She specializes in healing and basic magic but is cold and unsociable. She has a sad backstory related to losing her ability to sing magic.
• Botti – Female. A petite, nervous witch with long bangs that hide her expression. She specializes in curses and weather control. Botti is socially awkward but follows direct orders well. Her appearance is small and animal-like, often hugging a staff larger than herself.
• Marcomanni – Male. Member of the Steel Tiger Clan. Known for his strength and tactical skills. Relationship: Part of the Beastmen Alliance’s delegation.
• Mag – The wolfwoman under Yelmar—the one who was caught by Kian’s group earlier.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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