Volume 3 Chapter 228 The Thorned Empire Of A Thousand Years ①
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
”Don’t do it—!”
Sarah tried to scream, but it was already too late.
The red dragon—Renaud—unleashed a Scorching Ray, lighting up the battlefield as searing heat grazed Sarah’s cheek.
Boom.
A burst of wind exploded outward. Sarah and Aliona instinctively raised their arms, shielding their faces from the wave of force.
”Tch…!” Aliona hissed.
(No good—that Crimson Cursed Sword…)
It didn’t just block ranged attacks—it magnified them. Dozens of times over.
Predictably, Renaud’s eyes twisted. He readied another long Scorching Ray Shot.
Overhead, a small enemy continued radiating magic, even as the beam engulfed it. No—absorbed it. Pressure rippled outward as its power grew.
At last, the breath ended.
What should have torn the night sky in two was nullified entirely by the cursed blade hovering above the girl.
”What… what is that!?” Renaud roared, eyes wide as the girl’s blade arced downward.
Sarah’s vision went crimson.
Silence swallowed her.
Then—
Boom.
Wind slammed into her body, hurling her through the air.
Heat.
Her senses dulled. She couldn’t even tell if she was still breathing.
Then—someone clung to her. Aliona.
The girl’s magic surged. A barrier enveloped Sarah as they tumbled across the scorched earth.
Renaud’s death throes went unheard.
No surprise.
In a single blinding heartbeat, that cursed blade had sliced from the dragon’s skull to the base of his wings. “Burn” didn’t describe it—it gouged through him. He hadn’t even had time to scream before his core was obliterated.
The scent of charred flesh curled into the air.
White smoke coiled through the dark, mingling with the night. Red scales, slick and half-melted, littered the battlefield around Sarah and Aliona.
Sarah stared in silence, eyes fixed on the dim glow of the still-hot scales.
Then she snapped back and shoved off the ground, springing to her feet.
Renaud’s regeneration had already begun.
She couldn’t tell how many immortal scales had been broken—but he was alive.
(Still…)
If Talia had truly turned against them—
And if she could wield every magic sword—
Then it was only a matter of time before a soul-cutting blade came their way. One that couldn’t be blocked. Couldn’t be healed.
The one that killed Arminus. That crude, black greatsword.
Kian had said it demanded blood-soaked ground to activate.
Fortunately, Water Moon—Mizuki—only inflicted heat damage. Renaud’s bleeding had slowed. But even as he struggled to rise, thick droplets of blood hit the dirt.
At this rate, he wouldn’t last—
”Ms. Sarah!”
Aliona’s voice cut through the air like a whipcrack.
Kian’s enhancements kicked in. Reflexes honed by years of training carried Sarah into motion. She drew her weapon just in time to meet the enemy head-on.
Clang.
Sparks—bright orange against the dark—erupted between them.
Sarah’s falchion gleamed, pulsing with focused ki [spirit energy]. She released it in a sudden surge of impact.
”Oh? So you do react,” a voice taunted.
”Ms. Talia…!” Sarah gasped.
There she stood. Talia. Blade drawn. Curved. Familiar.
That was the second magic sword—Shadow Pierce (Kagezuki).
Its ability? Lightning-fast movement. Like Pursuit of the Shadow, a secret technique.
Sarah braced, but the difference in quality was stark. Her falchion cracked first, splintering under pressure.
The curved blade—once torn from a fallen Wolfman—glowed orange. It seemed to cry out as ancient letters shimmered along its edge, inscribed with the magic script for sturdy.
”Grass scales, stone flesh,” Talia chanted, red eyes narrowing as she glanced sideways.
Sarah saw her chance. She pressed in hard, forcing her weight into the clash.
”Rise—Earth Serpent!” Aliona’s voice rang from behind.
She thrust her staff forward. Light flared.
The earth buckled.
A massive serpent—ten meters long, its hide of stone and grass—rose from the ground with a hiss. Its mouth opened wide, fangs poised to crush Talia’s skull.
”Yah!” Aliona cried out.
A divine invocation.
Talia crouched—pulling Sarah forward with her through a Leap—and drove a spinning kick upward.
In an instant, Sarah’s vision fractured. The serpent’s head shattered into dust.
But Aliona’s magic wouldn’t stop so easily.
From the broken rubble, dozens of smaller serpents emerged—each one writhing like tentacles, every jaw lined with venomous fangs.
One bite wouldn’t be survivable.
Sarah tightened her grip, whispering, She’s not done yet.
She wasn’t.
Talia now held another blade—plucked from thin air.
The fourth magic sword.
Thundercleave. (Raikiri).
This was bad. She had to escape.
Her mind responded, but her voice lagged behind.
The pronunciation of the Western Common Tongue distorted, and Sarah let out a garbled cry:
”────!? Aaahhhhhhhh!?”
Lines of slashes tore through the air.
The serpent exploded—boom—and scattered into a cloud of dust.
Behind it, Aliona’s skull split like bamboo. Her limbs flew off. Her chest, stomach, and lower abdomen were shredded—spraying blooming blood.
Aliona was hurled backward by countless pressure-blades, her body flailing as blood burst from every gash.
Last of all, her head was severed—neatly quartered.
She was dead.
Their powerful ally, the Thorn Magician, had fallen in an instant.
”Lady Alionaaa!” Sarah shouted, her voice breaking.
She charged forward.
Her rational mind screamed at her to stop, but she ignored it, shifting her falchion into a stabbing stance and lunging ahead.
The blonde girl had her back turned—yet her neck twisted around unnaturally, her eyes meeting Sarah’s just as the blade sank deep into her chest.
”────!?”
At the moment of impact, Sarah felt resistance. Blood sprayed.
But then the girl smiled—calm, defiant—and her body vanished like a lie.
Mist?
That was her first thought. Sarah spun, scanning the field.
But no—it wasn’t mist.
”…! Of course. The sixth magic sword, Mistcloud (Kasumigumo),” Sarah realized.
”Indeed,” the girl said, voice cool.
Now twenty versions of her surrounded Sarah.
Each wielded a different sword—Mistcloud and Water Moon (Mizuki)—closing in.
Far off, the Thorn Demon hunched forward. Its vine-woven body swelled and twisted with a splintering sound.
Then came the third, despair-soaked shot.
A storm of dark-green thorn-spikes rained down.
Screams erupted again behind them.
”Comrade, fall back—gwaaaaaaah!?” Gary shouted.
”Gary!” Sarah cried, spinning.
The enemy’s magic sword, Rend Tear (Hizakari), had destroyed their ballistae and catapults.
Now, thorn-beasts surged around the broken siege weapons, overwhelming the Order of the Divine as they tried to evacuate the wounded.
This time, Renaud wasn’t there to burn the thorns away.
”Gary! Ggyaaaaaah!?”
”Captain Homork nooooo!”
Spikes stabbed into bodies.
Bellies burst. Faces vanished.
Flesh was torn away—then tendrils of vine sprouted from wounds, reshaping limbs grotesquely.
Those tendrils burrowed into spinal columns, shot upward into skulls, flung helmets free.
And from this horror, reconstituted thorn-monsters rose—hungry for the life force of their former allies.
(This can’t be happening…)
A massacre.
No mercy. No meaning. No end.
”Why!? Why, Ms. Talia!? You were supposed to be our ally!” Sarah shouted.
She hurled herself at the five girls encircling her.
She batted away two strikes—but a third girl slashed her shoulder from behind.
The fourth girl carved across her chest.
At this rate, she’d die—so Sarah unleashed her beetles, sending them buzzing forward to buy time.
”This one—is not Talia!” she cried.
The clones blinked out, and a girl wielding Shadow Pierce (Kagezuki) lunged at her.
Before, Sarah couldn’t have reacted. But now, with Kian’s factor amplifying her reflexes, she twisted her blade just in time.
She should’ve been able to dodge and counter at once—
But the enemy was too fast. Too strong.
”I am Erynys! …No, Talia! Ta-ta-ta-ta, Tari—Eri—Erinyu—T-T-Talia—Eee—Eee—EeeEeeeee—AaaAAAAHHHHHHHHH!” the girl shrieked.
”────!?”
”You little brat! You’ll pay for that!” a thunderous voice boomed.
The girl snapped her gaze upward—then vanished with Kagezuki, fleeing.
Left behind, Sarah was swatted aside by the red dragon’s massive claw.
Impact.
She slammed into the stone wall ringing the wheat field.
Her face crushed against the ground, her nose and mouth filling with the taste of iron.
”Lord Renaud, don’t…!” she shouted, staggering up.
Sarah spat blood-laced saliva.
”I’ll crush you, you damn fly!” he roared.
The red dragon bellowed.
Its enormous claw swung toward the girl hanging motionless in the air.
”Godpiercer Arrow, break light!” a dignified woman’s voice rang out.
Sarah turned—and froze.
Aliona, who’d just been torn to pieces, now stood upright, staff raised.
Her lower half soaked in blood, but at her feet, shredded muscle and spilled organs reknit themselves.
(She’s using the Restoration Curse!)
”Fly! Pierce! Annihilate the armies! I am the heir of the holy tree!” Aliona cried, golden hair sticky with blood.
The ground before her twisted upward, drawing thorns into a massive blooming sphere.
From the center bloomed a colossal bow and arrow, crafted from petal-white wood.
”In the abyss, I summon thee! Manifest, roots that shatter fortresses—aaaaAAAHHHHHHH!”
The high elf’s magic flared—monumental, divine.
”The flower arrow is wrapped in spiraling magic power. It swells—poised at the brink of blooming. Then—” Renaud said, watching the energy spiral around him, “—it launches, trailing a line of light.”
”I thought I heard the vampire girl whisper, ‘Stupid old hag,’” he muttered, uneasy.
Renaud and Aliona attacked together.
A luminous cross etched itself into the air.
Oswald would not walk away from this unscathed.
Or so they believed.
But the enemy’s despair outstripped their hope.
”The fifth magic sword—Rend Tear (Hizakari). The seventh—Water Moon (Mizuki),” the enemy declared, raising both weapons.
”────!?” Renaud gasped. “…Aa…”
A flash of silver swallowed his hulking body.
Scales meant to resist fire crumbled into white ash.
His head shattered—shockwaves tore through his vast frame.
Aliona faced worse.
Her flower-arrow was obliterated by a doubled burst of crimson light.
With a pop, she disintegrated—reduced to dust that scythed through the wheat and left only the charred remains of Mizuki.
The remaining villagers hiding in the Snow Past of the Giant vanished—swallowed by the chaos.
”YOUUUUUU!” Renaud howled, rage burning in his voice.
His bones cracked, meat reknitting, scales reforming.
Meanwhile, the blonde girl finally drew her ominous black greatsword.
”Lord Renaud, run!” she cried.
But her voice drowned in the carnage—the chorus of thorn-monsters ripping through allies.
Looking down, she saw the black greatsword drinking in blood pooled on the ground.
(No…)
Sarah’s spine turned to ice.
That blade meant one thing.
Death.
If she stayed—she’d die.
”────ngh,” she muttered through gritted teeth.
She forced herself up.
Slipped in the mud, scrambling like a wounded dog, she flung herself away.
”Miladyyy!” Rufna’s voice rang out.
A burst of magic flared—the ground surged beneath Sarah’s feet, launching her skyward.
Renaud’s form shrank behind her.
Twisting midair, Sarah exhaled a long breath of resignation.
Blood gathered in a perfect ring around the girl.
Without hesitation, it unleashed a multitude of blades.
Giant blood-forged weapons warped into place around Renaud, striking him point-blank.
”────…” he gasped, the impact rattling through his colossal frame.
These were blades capable of severing the soul itself.
Within their reach, escape was impossible—death, inevitable.
And if killed, there would be no return.
A soul destroyed meant the Restoration Curse was useless, even hyper-regeneration requiring dragon scale as a sacrifice couldn’t reverse it.
Literally, it was a strike meant to erase him from this world’s record.
Renaud’s massive frame was cleaved at the neck by a tremendous blade of blood.
The head was pulverized—his soul, extinguished.
His body twitched grotesquely, insect-like, nerves convulsing even after the brain was obliterated.
”Eat, demon,” a voice commanded.
”──────!”
Sarah slammed into the ground.
She clawed for control, trying to heal her shattered body.
(What happened…?)
When she looked up, she saw Renaud’s decapitated form being dragged slowly into the demon’s belly.
Consumption. The brain defiled.
The head replaced, the body overtaken—
A deep, harrowing roar shook the air, thick with agony and grief.
The dragon’s decapitated body moved again, the severed head pressed to the Demon’s gut.
It turned, four thick legs grinding the earth as it stepped free from the demon’s womb.
”Lord Renaud…” Sarah whispered, despair strangling her voice.
The dragon’s head writhed with thorny tendrils, each like a parasitic worm.
Two massive vines stabbed into the neck-stump—blood geysered into the night sky with a wet splurt.
The vines fused with flesh, bone, and nerve, stitching the thorn-forged head onto the body where the real one had been.
Then, the demon and dragon stood shoulder to shoulder—ready to attack.
Between them, a singular presence hovered, encircled by seven magic swords.
How could anyone face this? Sarah didn’t know.
”Lord Renaud! Lord Renauddddd!”
Sarah stared, stricken.
It only lasted seconds, but that instant was enough for the girl wielding the seven swords to register her presence.
Red eyes locked onto her.
(I’m going to die—)
She lunged forward, sword trembling in her grip, trying to shield herself.
A second later, her right arm was severed at the elbow.
”Ahhhhhhhhhh!”
White heat tore through her.
Pain lit up her spine as a blade slashed across her back.
A fist yanked her hair. A kick landed hard.
Then another. And another.
Thud thud thud.
”Because of you, Kian…” a voice snarled with venom.
Sarah cried out, helpless, each moan of “Aa, aa…” choked by pain.
”Because of you, he suffered! You filthy beast!”
”Elder sissterrrr!”
A brutal impact sent her sprawling.
Someone pulled her back—another figure lunged at the blonde girl in her place.
Sarah cradled her ruined arm instinctively, bracing for the crash.
”Natra!”
”Guh…”
Her sister stood before her, sword clashing against the enemy’s Shadow Pierce (Kagezuki), thorned blade in hand.
”Run! I’ll hold her here!” Natra shouted, her beautiful features marred by exhaustion, white robes in disarray.
”Fuhn, so a spare womb has arrived. How convenient,” the vampire girl sneered.
”What…?”
The vampire’s crimson gaze narrowed.
Her body vanished.
Twenty clones appeared in her place, circling them.
”Run! Hurry!”
A rock spear struck Sarah, flinging her skyward.
She tumbled through the air like a discarded rag doll.
”Take care of Elder Sister, Rufna!”
From every direction, attacks converged.
”I can’t believe this speed,” Natra muttered, barely dodging the flurry.
”Ha! You’re stronger than Kian, huh?”
Shadow thorns lanced toward the blonde girl.
The clones vanished.
She reappeared above, wielding the third magic sword—Heavenbreaker (Tenkaiha).
”Haah!” she cried.
Magic surged.
Natra summoned a field of thorny shadow to clash with a thousand incoming blades, each blazing like a falling star.
No one was left alive.
Every soul had become a monster of thorns.
Behind the floating blonde girl, a giant of thorns and the dragon—now turned enemy—charged in unison.
”Retreat for now! Discard Snow Past of the Giant! Damn it—Eleonora’s gunpowder was too late!”
”Rufna…” Sarah murmured.
”Don’t talk! Heal yourself! Do you even know how bad your condition is?” Rufna snapped, her voice sharp with panic.
Blood stained her clothes.
But the blood wasn’t hers—it was Sarah’s, still fresh and vivid.
Sarah’s heart clenched.
Then—
Silence.
Only the wind in her ears.
* * *
Second Secret Technique: Pursuit of the Shadow.
Third Secret Technique: Heavenfall.
Fourth Secret Technique: Thunder.
Fifth Secret Technique: Skyrend.
Sixth Secret Technique: Mist Raven.
Seventh Secret Technique: Mirror Moon.
These were the arts conceived by the dark spirit’s apostle to counter Talia’s seven swords.
The First Secret Technique remained unformed—an empty void.
”This is how you use the Secret Technique: Thunder (Raitei),” he said.
Dark energy like wings erupted from the back of the youth with the glasses.
Kian’s eyes widened as he jumped back.
In a breath, slashes tore through the void—countless lines shearing the dark.
”This counters an enemy’s charge while striking mid-leap. Not a mindless flail,” he explained.
”…”
He raised his longsword, wordless.
The youth adjusted his stance.
He bit the sword in his right hand, summoning another.
This new weapon was crude—an unpolished blade of stone.
”Now, the Secret Technique: Skyrend is…”
He swung.
Kian dashed to the right—just as white-hot energy scythed through where he’d stood.
The blast scorched the rocky floor, igniting the wall where Linca was bound. Steam hissed upward in a choking plume.
”If you use it, your weapon breaks.”
The stone sword disintegrated into dust.
”If the weapon’s strong, it may hold. But Skyrend is best used with something disposable. Even a branch works. That’s its power—any blade becomes a high-output magic sword.”
”────”
He struck.
The man didn’t dodge.
Before he could grip the black blade again, Kian lunged forward, cleaving his neck and torso in one vicious arc.
”Secret Technique: Mist Raven (Kiri Garasu*),” he said.
Dark, feather-like ki scattered wildly.
The man vanished—like a vampire’s Mist Form.
Then, he reappeared behind Kian.
”This technique swaps you with your shadow (kage). It draws your opponent’s gaze just before the kill. Now—Secret Technique: Heavenfall (Hōten*).”
He leveled his blade and thrust.
He sidestepped Kian’s riposte and jumped back.
Above him, a storm of ki needles appeared—ones Sarah and Linca had used before.
But these didn’t fall straight—they tracked him, weaving and redirecting.
Kian parried furiously.
Then, the ki dispersed into the air, fading without trace.
”The third sword, Heavenbreaker, does something similar. But it lacks power and volume—use it close-range. Heavenfall is your strongest Technique.”
”I’ve had enough of your lecture. Do you think I’m weak?” Kian snapped.
He attacked again.
The man’s back hit the rock wall—nowhere left to run.
He countered with the black blade, but Kian pressed on, vampire strength driving him forward.
The man pushed against him, glasses cracked, pain twisting his face.
But behind that agony—confidence.
A widening grin.
”More hatred,” he said. “You should hate me more, Kian. Draw from the dark. Become what you were meant to be—Kian Vahid, the avenger.”
”That’s not it,” Kian said flatly. “Your revenge and mine are different. I… I just wanted to show them.”
”Ha ha!” the man laughed.
As Kian felt the man’s body dip beneath his elbow, he shifted his weight, letting him slip past.
The enemy’s blade lost momentum—then clack—struck the rock face, flaring sparks as it tore across the stone.
A deep, glowing chasm split open.
As they crossed paths, Kian brushed a thread into place, redirecting the black blade arcing toward his wrist.
Dancing.
Flowing.
The man unleashed his next Secret Technique.
”Secret Technique: Pursuit of the Shadow,” he intoned.
As the spiraling energy surged, Kian’s form dispersed into mist.
A technique of the vampire—a mark of Kian’s darker self.
The man’s sword sliced through vapor, but Kian’s counter, launched like a killing blow, missed—dodged by the man’s own Secret Technique: Mist Raven.
He vanished.
A whirlwind of dark raven feathers exploded across Kian’s vision—a storm of energy.
Kian drew in breath, sharpened every sense, and gave chase as the man wove through one technique after another in a relentless dance.
There exists a magic called spiritcalling magic.
It allows a person to channel non-human beings—letting them divine the future, master lost arts, or wield magic otherwise impossible.
In the East, it’s also known as itako [spirit medium].
Each time Kian saw the man’s Secret Technique, it felt as if something kindred poured through their blades—echoes of a shared path.
”────”
The man’s true form emerged.
Kian, recognizing it instantly, slipped past the familiar attack—Pursuit of the Shadow—and angled for the moment he’d shift direction.
But the man vanished again with Mist Raven.
Kian faced him.
The man howled, drunk on combat.
He swung his sword like someone who’d been fighting alone for centuries.
Longing for the unattainable.
Grieving something lost.
The deeper his yearning grew, the more it warped into obsession—then hate.
He turned his sword against the world.
Even after Talia severed that obsession, the man kept swinging.
For years. For decades.
No matter what happened outside, or what he became inside, he kept searching.
His sword held longing and hate, salvation and collapse—impact, destruction, motion all coiled in its edge.
It was that kind of blade.
”Look at my sword! I’m amazing, right?” he shouted.
Their swords clashed.
From the man’s back, black energy rose like Azrael’s wings of death.
Kian headbutted him—thud—then leapt back, escaping the radius of Thunder.
A miss.
But Kian didn’t waste the opening—he closed in with a slash.
”My thirst for revenge… You get it, don’t you?” he yelled. “You understand me!”
”Yeah. I do,” Kian replied, voice steady.
He tracked the man’s Mist Raven.
He’d seen it so many times now.
The man’s malice seemed to seep into Kian—his mind accelerating, absorbing the spell’s logic on instinct.
”Then—!”
”I’ll save you too,” Kian whispered.
”────!?”
He turned—rip—his back slashed open.
Behind him stood the reappeared man.
He caught the blow with thread, but Kian’s Shot flew straight, cutting deep into the man’s chest.
”Your sword—this crystallization of your life—is brilliant,” Kian said. “A blade born of obsession doesn’t die. I’ll carry it back to the living world.”
”…!”
”You’re incredible. Honestly, I think you’d make better calls than I ever could,” he added, meeting the man’s gaze.
But the man no longer raised his sword.
”You’re the sword demon—not me. Probably,” the man said quietly.
He slashed Kian’s spirit diagonally, deep and clean.
Then he stabbed through the heart—something inside shattered.
Black blood spilled from the man’s lips, and though he staggered, he planted his feet.
”Kh…kakakaka,” he coughed, his laughter dry and rasping.
His sword dissolved from his hand.
Kian held his stance, unmoving.
But the man made no move to attack.
”Then…finish my Secret Technique in my place,” he said.
His right fist extended from beneath the black monk’s robe—a gesture of respect.
”Hey, I,” the man muttered. “The world’s not black and white. Everyone’s got light and shadow inside. Sure, some people lean ninety percent one way… but no one’s a pure hundred.”
”────”
”The world’s gray. People shift their views depending on the moment. I hated that world,” he continued.
Kian’s image—wearing glasses—wavered.
In its place stood a thin man in filthy rags, left arm missing.
”But you…you were pitch-black and blinding white at the same time. Split right down the middle. Not like the rest of us, all smudged in gray,” the man said.
”Maybe I’m gray now too,” Kian replied.
”No.” The man shook his head. “You’re still pure white. Like a newborn. You’ve never changed. Don’t lose that. Don’t kill the purity of your wish. If anyone can save this world—it’s you.”
The man’s form began to fade.
Kian clenched his left fist and bumped it against the spirit’s.
(If a psychologist saw this, they’d probably think it was something weirdly intimate.)
As the man vanished, a black tattoo spiraled across Kian’s left arm—ancient script and shifting sigils.
In the rock where the man had stood, a curved blade remained embedded.
I’ll show you my Secret Technique.
Use it to kill Talia.
Practice it again and again.
The words echoed in his mind.
The darkness was gone.
”Hyah!” Linca cried out.
Kian turned to her and said, “Let’s return to the holy domain.”
Notes:
• 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.
• Mag – The wolfwoman under Yelmar—the one who was caught by Kian’s group earlier.
• Linca – Jibril’s favorite girl. High-ranking warrior monk woman from Shin, with strong abilities like ignoring attacks and poisons.
Please bookmark this series and rate ☆☆☆☆☆ on here!
Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
Leave a Reply