Volume 3 Chapter 230 The Thorned Empire Of A Thousand Years ③
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
When Sarah was about to utter a refusal, Kian’s figure suddenly flashed in her mind.
He had once told her to pierce through her own sense of justice.
He had shown the way to a lost Sarah.
And thus, Sarah was able to begin walking once more.
”…I humbly accept this great role,” she said, voice trembling, yet resolute.
”Milady, are you serious?” asked Rufna, disbelief flaring in her eyes.
”You must escape with Serena,” Sarah said. “I’m staying here. I have the chance to defeat the enemy, so I will fight until the end.”
”Are you intent on dying?” Rufna demanded, stepping forward.
”It’s better than killing the ‘justice’ inside of me. And… that person. If it’s Kian, he will never run away,” Sarah replied, eyes distant. “No matter how desperate the situation, he’ll face the enemy boldly—while making some wildly inappropriate joke.”
At the mention of Kian’s name, Maribel’s face twisted in pain.
Unable to hold back, she started to sob, whispering in a trembling voice, “I—I’m sorry,” as she wiped her tears away with the sleeve of her garment.
”Even if he dies, his thoughts remain. I’m going to fight as Kian.” Sarah looked toward the horizon. “—But, Rufna. You must not die here. Survive. Carry Kian’s memory and mine forward. Let others know what we stood for.”
”…I see. Understood. Then—” Rufna started, but was cut off.
”I will stay here too, Ms. Sarah,” said Serena quietly.
”Ms. Serena… Serena…” Sarah turned, stunned.
A girl from the Wolfmen, who had been helping assemble the ballista in the wilderness, stepped forward.
She looked up at Sarah with calm, unwavering eyes.
”I will fight too,” Serena said. “I’ll attack the Thorn Demon with the ballista and catapult.”
”If you die,” Sarah warned, “the Wolfmen may vanish entirely. You need to carry on Commander Glen’s will and gather your scattered comrades, right?”
”Yelmar is still alive,” Serena replied. “He will bring the pack together again. More importantly, there’s something else— I will never abandon my comrades.”
Serena clasped her hands over her modest chest.
”Just like Ms. Sarah… I, too, was rescued by Kian when I was lost. He saved me without expecting anything in return. …He told me not to forget my pride. So I will fight until the end—for Kian, and for my own pride.”
”But your family entrusted you with that dagger in hopes you’d survive, right?” Sarah asked.
”Even if you say I’m ‘alive,’ just breathing isn’t living,” Serena replied. “I don’t think my family wanted me to throw everything away and rot in some back alley. As Wolfmen—as the ‘Storm Herd’—they passed on ‘hope’ to me. I believe it’s my duty to pass their pride to the next generation. But… maybe that’s just my selfish belief.”
Serena took Sarah’s hand.
Sarah looked down at that pale yet sturdy hand.
It pulsed with life—so strongly that she swore she could feel its heartbeat.
”I won’t die. And Ms. Sarah won’t die either. Here, we’ll defeat the Thorn Demon!”
”Ms. Serena…” Sarah whispered.
”──────”
Serena smiled reassuringly and turned back toward the wilderness.
She began using her magic to create stones, carefully stacking them beside the catapult.
”Well, fine. Then I’ll fight too,” Rufna said with a sigh, placing a hand on her hip.
”Rufna. But you…” Sarah started, worry in her voice.
”It’s more important to protect you and Serena than to pass on heroic tales,” Rufna said flatly. “Besides, milady—you’re planning to face Talia one-on-one, aren’t you? Who’s going to command in your place? The Princess?”
”W-Well, I can at least command!” Maribel stammered, raising her hand. “I’ve had proper training from my tutor!”
”See? That’s exactly why I’m worried,” Rufna muttered. “I’ll handle it. If things get bad, I’ll grab Serena and the Princess and retreat. So go ahead and fight with everything you’ve got.”
”Rufna…” Sarah said, softly.
”Ms. Rufna,” Maribel chimed in. “There’s no option to escape. I must protect Izerland with all my strength for the sake of our alliance. With Ramsey fallen, retreating to Izerland’s fortress is no longer possible. If we don’t hold here, the Danofen family has no future.”
”But… the Princess’s life might still be saved, right?” Rufna asked quietly.
”Yes,” Maribel nodded, tears sparkling in her eyes.
Despite her trembling, she stood straight and looked up at Rufna.
”Well then,” she said.
”If the worst happens—please rescue me.”
”By the way,” Rufna added, glancing toward the horizon, “are we really saving Oswald for a moment like this? Let’s break the rules and throw him at Talia. —Look, dawn’s breaking.”
As she spoke, the ridgeline of the mountains began to lighten with pale morning hues.
Oswald’s magic power surged with the rising sun, and by noon, he would be nearly invincible.
He might even be able to match enemies wielding the seven magic swords.
”The law is the law,” Sarah muttered. “Besides, if we release him, it’ll be like throwing ourselves between a tiger and a wolf. He probably hasn’t forgiven me yet.”
The law is the law, and yet you refuse to pay the agreed-upon price, saying such things—
Though I wanted to speak my mind, with destruction looming, I couldn’t bring myself to argue.
This wasn’t something to leave ambiguous.
But now, I had to focus—to mentally steel myself to defeat the girl wielding the magic sword.
The only path to victory was to seize every fleeting chance—each one as fine and narrow as the eye of a needle.
Maribel blew a sharp whistle, summoning her horse.
With a graceful motion, she mounted, then turned toward the army readying the ballista.
Mimicking the flourish Kian had once shown before the Beastmen Alliance battle, she galloped toward the front lines.
”Princess!”
”Princess Maribel!”
”Princess…!”
”Listen, brave warriors!” she shouted.
Maribel rode back and forth before the ballista and trebuchets.
The horse’s gait had been slowed so she wouldn’t bite her tongue while speaking.
”This is our final line of defense!” she cried. “If this is breached, there will be no hope left! Izerland will fall!”
Her usual high soprano voice had dropped into a hoarse alto, raw and deep from shouting.
”I will fight too! Everyone—fight for me! Fight for Izerland!”
A cheer erupted.
The young princess, striking in her bravery, was rallying them at the front.
Anyone who knew her couldn’t help but feel their spirit ignited.
Maribel raised her whip-wielding hand high, guiding her horse before the army with all the grace of a seasoned general.
Amidst the cheers, Aerial—who had been standing quietly beside Rufna—suddenly pointed skyward and shouted, “Ah!”
Once a diva in a traveling theater troupe, her voice rang out with a clarity that sliced through the noise.
”Y-Young lady…!”
”It’s finally here,” Sarah said.
She tossed aside the scroll and wax seal Maribel had given her and took a deep breath.
The morning sun blushed pink across the slopes.
And there—on the other side of the pass—rose a massive, dark green head.
* * *
”It’s too late, Lady Eleonora! We must retreat!” a knight shouted, his voice panicked.
”No! We must deliver this gunpowder!” Eleonora barked back, sweat streaking her face as she strained against the heavy cart of blast shells.
The southern wheatfields of Ramsey rippled around them like golden fire as Eleonora shoved the cart forward, her voice sharp against the wind.
”The plan is to burn the Thorn Demon’s legs with this powder! If we give up now, that giant won’t stop!”
”But the giant has already passed the mountain pass!” another soldier cried, despair thick in his tone.
”We won’t make it at this rate—we’re only falling further behind!” a lieutenant shouted over his shoulder.
”Damn it! If only we had just one horse left…!” an officer muttered through clenched teeth.
”Don’t give up, everyone!” Eleonora called, trying to rally them. “If we believe, we can catch up! Let’s do our best! Look there—do you see that magnificent red dragon? Lord Renaud is still fighting!”
Their operation had taken them west of Ramsey, to a forgotten ancient cavern. But what they thought was a shortcut turned into a trap—likely one set by Katyusha for grave robbers. The horses were crushed, and many injured. Yet Eleonora had insisted they carry the wounded and push the gunpowder by hand. Through the night, they marched, enhanced by physical enchantments, returning to the wheatfields with blistered hands and bruised pride.
They had no idea that Renaud had been killed—his corpse taken by the enemy.
If one looked closely, they’d see it: the red dragon and the giant weren’t engaging the enemy. They were just… moving. But Eleonora, blinded by resolve, believed Lord Renaud was holding the giant at bay.
”Lady Eleonora, we must retreat!” the lieutenant said again, his expression grave.
”The giant’s moving toward Izerland. Lord Renaud isn’t stopping him—he’s being dragged! Don’t you see!? It’s hopeless!”
”He’s right,” another officer added. “Izerland is beyond saving. Hauling this powder around won’t change anything. We need to return to Sunlightland and regroup.”
”I agree,” a third said. “Given the giant’s path, our land is likely safe. We’ve done our duty. No one will blame us if we run.”
The officers of the Order spoke one after another, retreat bleeding into the air like rot.
Eleonora faltered—just for a heartbeat. But then she raised her crimson brows and snapped, “Fools! Why did we risk our lives to assassinate Lord Kian!?”
”W-well, that’s…” one stammered.
”To protect Izerland, of course!”
Letting go of the cart, she seized the lieutenant by the cloak and yanked him close.
”Are you going to abandon Izerland now!? What was the point of killing the hero of the last war!? What about our resolve!? What about Lord Kian!?”
”────”
”…”
”────”
”We are not retreating! We must get this gunpowder to Lady Sarah!”
”But if Lady Sarah is still alive, we’ll be executed for killing Lord Kian,” one knight said quietly. “Maybe it’s better for us to perish beneath that giant’s feet than face her judgment.”
”If the Izerland army falls, Sunlightland will be untouched. The princess loses her authority. Our sins will be erased. Isn’t that enough of a resolution?”
”But what will happen to the Izerland fortress?” another asked, his voice uncertain.
”…It’s already lost,” came the grim reply.
Eleonora punched the lieutenant hard across the face. Without pause, she struck the others one after another.
Then, just as she opened her mouth to shout again, a scout burst through the wheat in a dead sprint, panting and wild-eyed.
”The enemy! The enemy is coming! It’s the Order of the Divine—covered in thorns! Lord Renaud is with them!” he screamed.
”What!?” Eleonora’s eyes snapped toward the fields.
Silhouettes—armored knights wrapped in thrashing vines—charged through the wheat. Their speed exceeded what any enchantment should allow. They weren’t looking for allies.
They were hunting prey.
”All hands, draw your swords!” one officer barked.
Eleonora and the others abandoned the cart, diving into the wheatfields and forming a defensive line.
(Gary… Homork the Third…!)
Eleonora’s breath caught as she recognized the corrupted knights leading the charge. Gary’s head was half-blown off, but the shape of his frame and leg armor were unmistakable.
The knights of Sunlightland stood their ground. But the moment their swords touched the thorny whips, agonized screams ripped through the air. One by one, they fell.
(Die? Here…?)
Eleonora shrieked, her cry raw and animalistic, and sprinted toward Gary to save the fallen lieutenant. But Homork struck her down with a crushing blow.
”Agh…!”
”Lady Eleonora!”
The voices of her subordinates sounded like they were underwater. Eleonora rolled, dodging Homork, reaching for her fallen sword—
”Ghh—!?”
A vine whipped around her ankle.
A cold pain tore through her leg like ice through her veins.
She was being drained.
Magic power—
The source of life.
She thrashed, clawing at the ground. But Homork caught her. Flipped her onto her back. Grabbed her chin.
Thorned vines writhed from her abdomen like worms emerging from a corpse.
She thought, I’m going to die.
Eaten.
No—I don’t want to die!
I’m not done yet—!
”Ahhhhh, ahhhhhhh!” she cried out.
Though she wasn’t suited for it, she had been chosen by the Holy Sword of the Sun.
Then Oswald came—and she was discarded like trash.
She had only become Defense Minister because Maribel had asked her to. She never wanted the position.
And now, if she failed, she would be discarded again.
She had led her troops into a cursed forest…
And lost so many. Good people.
What had she done wrong?
All she ever wanted was to be a model knight.
She had given up everything—marriage, love—just to wield that sword.
And now…
Was this her end?
”…Is anyone there…” Her lips trembled.
”Someone… Help me! God! Save me!”
Ugly tears streamed down her face.
”Please… someone, anyone… help meee!”
”I understand.”
”────!?”
Just as the thorns neared her mouth, Homork was yanked upright like a puppet on strings.
He turned, trying to strike—but too late.
Invisible slashes tore through the corrupted knights in an instant.
Dark green thorn-fragments scattered, dancing in the dawn light like ash. They disintegrated into dust, swept away by the cold wind from the Snow Pass.
Eleonora blinked up at the morning sun.
Knights around her, pinned like insects, stirred and rose in disbelief.
At the edge of the wheat, amidst gold and wind, stood a single swordsman clad in black. His sword—a mist-cloaked blade—glinted in the sun, held low and steady.
He hadn’t even turned to look at them.
”No way… it can’t be…” a lieutenant breathed.
”…Lord Kian,” Eleonora whispered, her voice faint as foam.
”Retreat! Now!” the black-cloaked swordsman roared, finally turning to face them.
It was him.
The hero of Ramsey.
The man Eleonora herself had helped kill, alongside Katyusha.
He must know she was the traitor—he must.
Yet his voice was desperate.
”Leave the cart! Flee southwest—back to Sunlightland!”
”A-ah…”
She doesn’t understand.
She suspected the Thorn Demon had revived. That meant she had likely failed to finish it off. Still, she believed it could be destroyed—under the right conditions.
”It’s strange that you’re even still alive,” he muttered.
In the chaos, Eleonora turned to the black warrior monk, her voice desperate.
”…We can’t! Izerland is in crisis. The Thorn Demon has revived and is advancing toward the fortress. It seems both the Order of the Divine and Lord Renaud’s knights have been defeated. But we still have to deliver the gunpowder according to plan. We can’t just run!”
”────!” Kian gasped, snapping his gaze around.
The thorn-covered monsters—once Renaud’s men—were still there. Drawn by the scent of fresh flesh, they were creeping closer, closing in on Eleonora and the others.
”Linca! Please!” 路頭に迷っていたところをKianに助けてもらった shouted.
”──The Great Emperor Taiqing. Ever-present in myriad blossoms, responding to all paths, within the Three Realms, among the Six Harmonies,” Linca intoned calmly.
The incantation, born of the East, was chanted with solemn clarity.
From the shadows above, a graceful figure in a black Eastern robe descended, cloaked in white. Her black hair fluttered like silk in the morning breeze. She clicked her teeth together.
Crack!
Thunder boomed in response, rippling across the pale blue sky.
A silver dagger gleamed in her right hand, hidden beneath the white cloak.
Her spell was born in the East. The staff she bore was Western.
East and West, harmonized into one spell.
”Those who follow the order will be blessed. Those who defy it shall be cursed. When the imperial command descends, Thunder obeys. Disciples give thanks. May your wishes come true—turning misfortune into fortune, calamity into blessing.”
Linca’s mana surged violently, a cold tremor in the air.
”──Swiftly come to my aid!”
Her hands danced through intricate seals, then—
”The Crimson Pact!” she cried, slashing the dagger through the air.
A torrent of magic power cascaded down upon the thorned monstrosities surging through the wheat fields. As soon as they touched her spell, their jagged forms cracked and disintegrated—vanishing utterly.
With the malevolent force animating them destroyed, their corpses collapsed like puppets with cut strings, swallowed by the swaying fields.
A mantra to break evil.
Said to be the sacred words of an Eastern deity.
If an evil being is struck by the spell and lacks the magical resistance to withstand it, it is erased from existence.
Its flaw was the length of the chant and the complexity of its hand signs—but it was among the highest-class exorcisms.
”There is nothing you can do,” Kian said, calmly.
He sheathed his half-transparent blade.
Only then did she notice—his right arm was gone. From the elbow down, it had been replaced with a smooth, white prosthetic.
”Lord Kian, your arm…” Eleonora whispered.
Kian frowned faintly, pain flickering behind his eyes.
”Please retreat immediately. I’ll carry the gunpowder.”
”You intend to use it, Sir Kian?” she asked sharply.
”No. It won’t work on that enormous body,” he replied, steady. “This is just to buy time—so you and the others can escape.”
Eleonora clenched her fists, frustrated.
She wanted to protest. But she’d been saved. She couldn’t speak.
”Go. Hurry. Before the next wave comes.”
That was the last thing he said before sprinting off.
Linca, delayed for just a breath, took off after him—her serpent familiar already having swallowed the gunpowder into its massive jaws.
They no longer looked back at Eleonora.
They were already racing toward the back of the Thorn Demon—toward the world’s doom.
”────”
”…”
”────”
Eleonora and the others, wordless, staggered to their feet and began to retreat.
* * *
The retreat of the allied forces became a Leap.
A single word meaning instant death.
The first strike—by the Fifth Magic Sword, Rend Tear (Hizakari)—obliterated the ballistas and catapults they’d labored to build, all from beyond their range.
Amid screams of agony, Maribel gave the order to charge.
”Rufna, withdraw from the battlefield,” she said, calm.
”Well, that’s just how it is,” Sarah muttered, laughing bitterly.
Maribel had only come to buy time.
Sarah hadn’t seen her up close in years—and now, even as she looked, she wasn’t sure it was truly her.
(But this is fine.)
Sarah offered a faint smile, gazing out at the empty ruins of Cockley Clay village.
No one remained. Just as Linca had once warned her—when Kian was gone, there would be nothing left. No salvation.
She’d die alone, like a stray dog. And now, here she was.
”Heh…”
Atop Snowveil Pass, a giant and a dragon stood like twin monuments.
If they jumped from there, the shockwave alone would obliterate her—she was sure.
She raised her head.
There stood the Grim Reaper—descending among burnt corpses.
A golden-haired girl.
Seven magic swords floated around her.
Draped in enchanted white armor, she approached slowly, Shadow Pierce (Kagezuki) in hand.
Before Sarah could react, her right arm was severed once more.
”Guh—!”
”────”
Silence.
She wished the girl had just killed her swiftly.
Instead, as though repaying years of spite, the girl kicked Sarah in the stomach.
Then, coldly circling behind, she kicked her again—hard—in the back.
Appearing above her, she stabbed Shadow Pierce deep into Sarah’s right shoulder.
”Ugh!”
Sarah was slammed into the dirt and pinned down.
A boot pressed hard on her throat. She couldn’t breathe.
The sword twisted in her shoulder, carving toward her lungs.
She gasped, blood spilling from her lips.
”I’ve never seen a woman as pathetic as you,” the girl said with a sneer.
”Cough…”
”And yet Kian only ever chased after your sorry backside.”
”…Jealous?” Sarah wheezed.
Crunch.
Her nose was crushed beneath the girl’s heel. Her face twisted, grotesque with pain.
”It’s pity. That’s all Kian felt.”
A small white blade floated into view—slender and cruel.
It plunged into the tips of her fingers—one, two, three—
Nails torn apart as blades slid in and out with nauseating precision.
”────”
A scream she couldn’t voice.
”You wore my face. Used it to draw in men. A shameless, unconscious whore. You should’ve been skewered long ago.”
The girl snapped her fingers.
A thorned vine—thick as a wooden stake—emerged, poised between Sarah’s legs.
Death would be mercy.
Sarah tried to bite her tongue and end it herself—
—but a vine tendril thrust into her mouth, choking the act.
”I’ll tell you the truth,” the girl whispered. “Kian never loved a twisted thing like you.”
”────”
”He only extended a hand because he pitied you. Before you shattered completely.”
”…”
”You gave him nothing. You only took. Used him.
You thought you’d be loved for that? Cherished?
You’re a fool. A lowly woman, thinking only of herself.
A pig, meant to die here. Alone. In agony.”
She snapped her fingers again.
”────!? What? Flesh—did it… Talia!?”
The girl’s voice rang out, sharp and disbelieving.
The final blow—never came.
Sarah’s pain-blurred vision caught the golden-haired girl looking back—toward the sky.
”Fool… Don’t tell me… is he coming?”
She muttered it.
Half in denial. Half in fear.
Her eyes lifted.
A surge of mana rolled across the field—a wave, rich in warmth.
Compassion. Power.
”Kian… why…” she whispered.
* * *
He ran.
He ran relentlessly.
Like a gust of wind, Kian raced toward his childhood friend.
Along the way, he left the corpses of the Thorn Demon and Renaud to Linca, blazing through the Snow Pass of the Giant without hesitation.
The land of Izerland stretched wide below him, its once-peaceful fields now marred by chaos.
From the foothills, black smoke billowed into the gray sky like a wound refusing to close.
Kian launched into the air and glided down the mountainside, his coat snapping like a war banner in the wind.
Below, Erynys looked up at him, motionless.
Beside her, Sarah lay in a pool of blood.
Her crimson-stained cloak fluttered faintly, the color nearly indistinguishable from her wounds.
The sight struck him like a blade to the chest.
Something inside him ignited—fast, violent.
There had been so many battles, so many losses.
But Sarah was different.
She was irreplaceable.
The only one who had stood by him through fire and frost.
His partner.
His comrade.
The one who shared his burden without flinching.
And whoever had hurt her—
No matter who they were—
He would not forgive them.
”That’s right. Hate.” whispered a voice inside his head.
It was low, cold, intimate.
”Let hatred become your strength. Let it carve the path before you. Take revenge on the one who shattered what you love.”
(No. I just want to save her.)
His ornamental prosthetic hand rattled in the wind, fingers trembling faintly.
And then, laughter—quiet, cruel.
A strange heat pulsed in his left wrist, like a second heart thudding against metal and bone.
”Check the arms,” Kian muttered, grounding himself.
The demon and the dragon—he’d leave them to Linca. She could handle them. He had to believe that.
But Erynys—
Erynys was his to face.
(Secret Technique: ‘Pursuit of the Shadow,’ ‘Skyrend,’ ‘Mirror Moon’—these three only. No others permitted. Coat: Nightshade—borrowed from Mrs. Camilla. Weapons: Misty Magic Sword and the curved black blade handed down by the Followers. Three wooden staffs, two wooden training swords, and Maribel’s longsword.)
He would sweep through the clone swords using ‘Skyrend’, a wide-area technique.
He would match ‘Water Moon (Mizuki)’, the enemy’s true blade, with ‘Mirror Moon’, even if it meant pushing his body to its limit.
If Erynys changed weapons mid-fight, he would trigger the inscription from Mrs. Camilla—sealing her summoning ability.
In that split-second opening, he would strike with ‘Pursuit of the Shadow.’
She had already sacrificed two of her spirit cores to protect Sarah and Linca.
Only one remained.
If he broke it—
If he crushed her final heart—
She would suffer a devastating backlash.
That damage would expose her to the Restoration Curse.
And in the aftermath—
He would rush in and finish it.
He would kill without mercy.
Linca would come. She always did.
She would handle it.
Probably.
Kian landed before Erynys, his boots squelching through mud and ash, stepping over the broken dead without pause.
”Ki…an…” Sarah rasped, her voice no more than a whisper through bloodied lips.
He dropped to one knee beside her.
”I’m sorry,” he said, voice low. “I made you wait. But I’m here now. I’ll get you out of this.”
”Kian…” Erynys’s voice was quiet, laced with emotion he couldn’t read. “What are you planning?”
She slowly slid her magic sword—Shadow Pierce (Kagezuki)—back into its sheath, and drew its clone counterpart: Mistcloud (Kasumigumo).
The blade shimmered like fog caught under moonlight.
He couldn’t rush in recklessly—not against her.
Behind him, Kian heard Linca unleashing a massive spell, its energy flaring like a second sun.
She needed time—just a little more—to take out the last two enemies.
”Kian! Answer me!” Erynys shouted, her stance shifting. “What are you trying to do?!”
”Can’t you see?” he replied, raising the Misty Magic Sword in his left hand.
His gaze locked with hers—calm, resolute.
”I’ve come to save the world, Erynys.”
Notes:
• Serena – Wolfmen Girl
• 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.
• Katyusha – A female warrior monk of the black panther race and a follower of Abbas Hashmalik Shakerdoust.
• 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.
• Camilla – A woman; the subject of the chapter; her body was used to seal Erynys’ soul.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
Thanks for reading.
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