30 Years Have Passed Since the Prologue

A soldier on the watchtower rubbed his tired eyes and looked down at the plains. It was summer, high noon. Heat waves shimmered across the expanse under the blazing sun.

Beyond that, a massive army was visible. An endless array of banners fluttered, filling the horizon with the enemy troops.

Perhaps due to the tension, his vision felt narrower than usual. He pressed the corners of his eyes and suddenly glanced at his arm.

Heat waves were rising above it, fluttering as if a thread was hanging from it.

“Um…?”

Had he been standing guard for days? Or was it just the heat? Facing the enemy made him anxious?

The soldier stared blankly at the heat waves. These illusory threads danced lightly on his forearm.

He soon followed the thread with his gaze. As is typical with heat waves, they spread upwards, billowing and dissipating—

“Um…??”

By the time he realized the faintly connected heat waves were seeping into the small clouds floating in the sky above.

“Doesn’t the color of the clouds seem a bit strange?”

He turned his head toward the fellow sentry. The color of the clouds was different from usual. He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was different, but each time he looked at them, or even while staring, it felt as if their colors were changing slightly.

“Hey, are you sleeping?”

When he received no answer from the sentry, who had turned his back, he gripped his shoulder tightly and shook him.

Tilting, the sentry wobbled and turned toward him, with faint heat waves rising from his body and his pupils dilated in a blank stare.

“Hey, hey, hey!! Heatstroke? Is that what it is? Get a hold of yourself, man!”

The soldier shouted in panic while looking around. Since there were more sentries standing guard, he thought he needed to save this guy first.

Then he soon stopped as he noticed the heat waves covering the entire expanse of the camp behind him.

The entire horizon shimmered as if it were ablaze. Constantly changing colors of the clouds and sunlight filtering through, thin threads ran between them.

The threads formed a web, creating shapes, while twisted bands of colors seeped in between.

From one end of the horizon to the other, every place in sight looked like stained glass descending from the sky.

Or rather, like a veil. Threads sprouted from each person’s body, weaving together to form a veil that covered the world.

The veil of Lamerics had descended upon this land.

EP27. Stained Glass.

As soon as Ivan opened the tent and stepped in, he quickly checked the personnel. Isabelle, folding a towel while muttering something; Ecdysis, staring intently at a protein bar; Lucia, nodding off; Elpheira, drinking tea; Oscar, oiling his blade. Thankfully, everyone was present.

“Everyone, attention.”

As Ivan appeared, all eyes were on him. He leaned against the tent entrance and continued speaking briskly.

“Time is of the essence, so I’ll explain briefly. Prepare for battle.”

“Already? Didn’t the talks just end?”

“You said to just watch at the meeting. Are we joining in this time?”

“No, it’s an extermination mission.”

At Ivan’s words, the group’s expressions stiffened. Extermination. It was a phrase Ivan often had on his lips—the essence of the Hero Party was to strike at the enemy’s leadership as an assassination unit.

A more specialized group than a regular assassin. Specifically, an organization created to target demons. And considering that the war’s inception was the Pope and the Seven Dragon Lords.

Finally.

“Right, the Seven Dragon Lords. The Veil of Lamerics. As soon as the skirmish begins, we will flank and strike at the location where Lamerics is.”

“How do you know that?”

“The Pope will know. His position has been identified.”

The Pope and the priests of the Papal Enclave are gathered in one place. They will rush directly to that location, drawing Lamerics out.

The plan was simple. The enemy cavalry will break out, and when our cavalry collides with them, it begins.

It’s a race against time. The longer the operation drags on, the greater our losses will be. The scale of the forces in this campaign makes it hard to gauge victory or defeat, but if our losses exceed a certain point, then even if we win, it won’t be a true victory.

So, as always, the operation must be executed with minimal losses and in the shortest time possible.

“The briefing on his characteristics and tactics will be done while we move. There’s no time.”

“Yes!”

The moment Ivan finished speaking, the group gathered their gear. Since the operation was a short-term engagement, all they needed to prepare, aside from simple supplies, were their weapons and armor.

Preparation ended swiftly. Ivan stepped out of the tent.

Under the sky, everything was gradually being colored in darker hues. As if cast by the twilight. Ivan shook his head at the sweet musky scent wafting through the air.

Standing before the tent was the Saint.

“Patricia. The command center…”

“It has collapsed.”

She was breathing heavily, her face flushed with excitement. Upon her words, Ivan took a quick glance around and exhaled deeply.

In that brief moment, had the influence spread to cover the entire camp?

“I have no sacred power, so I can only resist with my will. If not for those who caught on beforehand, they would have been completely overwhelmed. Was hiding information about the Seven Dragon Lords a blunder?”

“Even if you informed them, no one would believe it.”

Had the Pope colluded with the Seven Dragon Lords to manipulate the crusade, who would have believed that after being branded a heretic? Not even the Royal Court of Albina would believe it.

The operation was undoubtedly a success. They perfectly drew out the Pope. But it was too effective.

The moment the Seven Dragon Lords, Lamerics, could no longer sit idly by and chose to intervene himself.

“The influence is still shallow. It seems they haven’t fully taken their ‘nest’… Hoo… but they won’t last long.”

The Saint’s words gradually faded. In a situation where she had to withstand solely on her will, resisting the influence of the Seven Dragon Lords itself was remarkable.

Civilians, regardless of their kind, would either perish or be left as cripples within the territory of the Seven Dragon Lords.

As a result, all fronts opposing the Seven Dragon Lords had to face repeated defeats. Even the not fully blossomed Senasgeor had their notions twisted, and the elves that failed to resist were swallowed whole.

In the past, the only strategy for when the Seven Dragon Lords personally showed up on the front lines was to sacrifice offerings and retreat. Every other attempt ended in horrific failure.

And now, that situation was occurring once again in this plain. Soldiers who failed to resist stood still, staring blankly at the sky.

Violet clouds casting shadows over the sun were growing larger. Their nest was being completed.

“Retreat…”

“No.”

Ivan shook his head firmly. Fleeing now would leave no escape. It was the point where nearly all of Equitania’s forces had been poured out. If they lost all of them, the Southern Six Nations would fall into the hands of the Seven Dragon Lords.

They needed to resolve the situation before the Seven Dragon Lords completed their nest or retreated to the castle.

“Ah, uncle!”

Isabelle and the others poured out of the tent. They were looking around in a panic. Soldiers, knights, mages—those who failed to resist had all stopped. Even those barely holding on were groaning, losing their sanity.

The sunlight’s hue was changing, casting eerie violet flashes from above. The vast plains were losing their greenery and wilting away.

Ivan briefly pondered what to do. If he took them all away, the Saint would surely die….

At the point of failing to resist and falling into the grasp of Lamerics, he would proclaim the execution of the Saint. That the heretic was dead. Using the Pope’s voice.

There was no choice.

The thoughts were brief. Ivan looked around at his group with a stern expression.

“I am changing the operational order. All of you will escort the Saint and retreat.”

“What about you, uncle?”

“I have my own duties to fulfill.”

He had to strike Lamerics before the nest was completed. The odds were low. Even if Lamerics was not extraordinarily powerful, the troops closest to his influence, the army of Bellacria, would be in a state not much different from the Demon Realm.

In other words, that meant all the forces of Bellacria would be guarding Lamerics. It was not a situation that could be handled by a single hero party.

No matter how powerful a human may be, one cannot defeat an army.

But they could not abandon the entire engagement and flee. There was no future in retreating. Then they had to stake out the highest possible possibility. Saving the Saint and the Hero Party. And keeping Lamerics occupied for as long as possible in this place.

Revisiting this, no matter how powerful a human was, against an army, one cannot win.

However, if adequately trained agents are involved, they should be able to hold down an army’s movements. By whatever means necessary. If needed, even at the cost of their lives.

Ivan was a prepared agent.

“Return to Krasilov and explain the situation… The Saint should be able to explain. If we lead the troops of Tylesse and Krasilov with the help of Enrique and Einar, there is still a chance.”

“What about you, uncle?”

Isabelle’s eyes had grown cold.

“What are your chances?”

“Few.”

“Then if we stick with you?”

“It would get even fewer.”

That did not mean they would be a burden. They were at a level where each could work individually. To retain one’s sanity under the influence of Lamerics already implied reaching the realm of the superhuman.

But then, they would have to abandon the Saint. Both rationally and emotionally. Ivan could never choose that option.

No more comrades could be lost. He had sworn countless times and failed countless times, but this time, absolutely.

“What if I stay with you?”

“You would die.”

“Then we would die together. It’s common in Esin’s town.”

“No!!”

Despite Ecdysis’s protests, Isabelle still stared at Ivan with a stiff expression.

“There will be better battlefields.”

“There is no better battlefield than now.”

In Isabelle’s eyes, there was no trace of fear. Only a deep desire filled them.

Ivan scanned his companions.

Ecdysis could not go. If she died, Einar would fall into madness. The only people who could communicate with Einar at a minimum were Ecdysis and himself. If Ivan were to die, at the very least, Ecdysis would have to survive to avoid the worst-case scenario.

Oscar was the strongest means to mobilize Tylesse. The Tylesse regime was being organized under the Lord Protector and the Etarique family. If Oscar were to die, Tylesse’s involvement would become uncertain.

Elpheira did not have a good synergy with Lamerics. She would be of little help in a battle that required physical power.

Lucia had exhausted all his mental energy controlling bats throughout this campaign. Continuing the battle would be difficult, and for his role to be taken by someone else, Lucía needed to stay alive in the Hero Party.

And then there was Isabelle.

“What are you looking at?”

“Do you really think you could die?”

“Are you trying to scare me?”

She replied with a wry smile.

“The hero is not the strongest.”

“But the most courageous.”

“That’s right. You taught me that. How could someone who is afraid of dying have inherited the blood of a hero?”

Indeed. Isabelle was Maximilian’s daughter. She had inherited his finest traits.

Splendid talents and noble character, courage and humility, virtues.

Even in this violet-tinged world, Isabelle’s blonde hair swayed brilliantly under her helmet like a harvest-season wheat field.

Yes. The essence of a hero is to defeat the Seven Dragon Lords and the Demon King. At this moment, Isabelle was not just Maximilian’s daughter.

She was a hero. The most courageous. The one who split the clouds to see hope amidst despair.

An embodiment of the morning star.

Ivan smiled faintly, following Isabelle, as he mounted his steed.

“Let’s do the tactical briefing on the way.”

“Sounds good!”

The Veil of Lamerics. Embodiment of lust. Mistress of the Shadow Forest. The Queen of the Nest. And, the Succubus.

“Succubus?!”

“Do you know about them?”

“Uh, why? They appear often in novels, um….”

In the cultural focal point of civilization, they occasionally appear in the colorful literature of the Tylesse royal court. A species that seduces men. With beautiful appearances, they exploit emotions—

“That’s imagination, and it’s a derogatory term.”

“Huh?”

“A succubus is a derogatory term. Their species is Aranyieri. If I had to express it… it’s a spider.”

Creatures that dwell and nest in the shadows of the deep forest.

Their upper bodies resemble humans, enticing preys. Like the luminous organs attached to lanternfish. When they hide their black bodies in the dark, their white forms appear as silhouettes of naked women under the shadows.

For those wandering in the forest, it became an inevitable temptation. The moment their body is visible, thin spider webs begin to ensnare the victim. Not physically, but as a conceptual existence, once touched by the web, the victim experiences surging lust and diminished cognitive abilities.

This web is a toxin that parasitizes the mind. It is made of mana and cannot be dismantled physically.

The Aranyieri slowly disassemble humans who are enchanted and approach them, devouring their flesh. Occasionally, fully entranced humans return to society, luring more victims back into the forest.

Many settlements disappeared during those times. The entire population became missing.

The forest draped with such webs is called a ‘Nest.’ The massive forest located beyond the Western Demon Realm is both a nest and a city for the Aranyieri.

“Ugh… ew.”

Isabelle shuddered in disgust. She restrained her galloping horse and asked.

“Have you ever captured one?”

“A few times. Not many.”

Their dwelling was deep within the Demon Realm, and they generally did not engage in external activities. Hence, they were a species with low aggression.

Therefore, there were not many conflicts with humans. While the damage was not negligible, most of the missing persons cases were difficult to gauge accurately, so only estimates could be made.

During the height of the war, they were a species with no reason to take an interest. They were also quite troublesome to deal with.

“If they’re cooped up in their nest, it’s hard to gauge their level. Whether it’s a commander-class or a chief-class is indistinguishable. They’ve always been a type of enemy that’s difficult to deploy an adequate level of force against.”

They were not the type of demon you could easily deal with just by sending in large numbers. Once caught unawares by their poison, one would lose all reason. Many people becoming the prey often resulted in a feast for the demon.

“How did you face them before?”

“One time, I broke through with a small force, and another time, I utilized bombardment.”

“Bombardment?”

“The fact that they nest in the forest means that leveling the forest itself is a solution.”

That was the tactic of the former king. Upon discovering a nest on the route of advance, the former king had wiped that entire forest off the map with bombardments. He remembered that the demons inside had been crushed under nearly an hour of continuous shelling.

Even a chief-class could lure superhumans into enchantment within a nest. If it were a commander-class, even the slightest moment of neglect would lead to becoming a puppet, even if adequately prepared.

As for the Seven Dragon Lords? Well. Ivan decided not to think about that. It was not a type of worry that could be resolved by contemplating it in the current situation.

“What about our operation?”

“A breakthrough. Get ready.”

Ivan drew his axe as he watched a group of horsemen approaching from the distance, puppets entwined in violet threads racing toward them.

   

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