In an instant, the earth shook.
Behind her, female warriors over two meters tall, with sleek, powerful bodies like hunting leopards and clad in light armor, came surging over the dunes in a vast wave. Some rode warhorses, others ran on foot, yet all kept nearly the same pace, while wild plumes of dust exploded behind them.
The tens of thousands of Persian soldiers holding the high ground, along with the more than three thousand Undead guarding Darius III, instinctively shifted toward the southeastern flank.
But the moment they made contact, those women casually swept out with spears over two meters long, and the front ranks fell like wheat before a scythe, dropping in swaths, bones shattered, tendons torn, organs crushed.
A formation of tens of thousands was pierced through in only a few breaths.
The Undead who rushed up in time to reinforce them were met head-on by women who stood a full head taller, and their lines were brutally torn apart.
The flesh and regenerative power they were so proud of were ripped to pieces with ease beneath the claws of these lionesses.
Seeing that these suddenly arrived women were about to drive straight into the heart of the formation, the secret Magi's expressions changed drastically. One after another they activated their divine lamps, and the fire spirits they summoned, the Ifrits, surged forward amid waves of heat.
No matter how strong a body was, how could it possibly stand against energy lifeforms made of Ether...
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
Within the low howl of the wind, blazing blood-red streaks shot out and forcibly blasted the Ifrits apart.
Divine runes! Divine blood!
All five thousand of these women were... divine blood warriors! And the nine leading them possessed bloodline purity approaching that of demigods!
A powerful sense of absurdity rose in the hearts of the Persians.
With the main force tied down by the Roman legions, the number of troops left beside Darius III had been greatly reduced.
Now the five thousand female warriors, glowing with shifting divine patterns, merged into a torrent that smashed through everything in its path and drove straight at Darius III atop his war elephant. They became the decisive knife plunged into the enemy's heart, and wherever they passed, men and horses were thrown into chaos. Nothing could stop them.
A thousand years apart, and these Amazon women were even fiercer than the Pegasus Knights of Mount War God back in the day!
Watching the five thousand Amazon warriors tear through the enemy like tigers among sheep, Samael's eyelid twitched.
Of course, the stronger they were, the better.
After dragging this out for so long, the final piece had finally fallen into place...
Samael's lips moved soundlessly as streaks of light quietly dispersed in all directions and melted into the air.
Then he narrowed his eyes and looked toward the Persians, whose formation had fallen into complete disorder, continuing to hide his presence and wait with patience, like a venomous snake lurking in the desert, blending into the landscape as it waited for its prey.
At this moment, the Persian army, already at its limit, began to collapse across the board under the assault of five thousand divine blood warriors.
"I'll hold the rear! Protect His Majesty's retreat!"
The old general Memnon immediately dragged Darius III down from the overly conspicuous war elephant and ordered the secret Magi accompanying the army, along with the remaining troops, to protect the Persian king and withdraw into the ravine to join the main force besieging the Roman legion.
As for himself, he led three thousand Undead to hold the line against the onrushing Amazon warriors.
But in only a quarter of an hour, these elite troops, the pride of Persia, were smashed apart by the Amazon warriors, who surpassed them in both numbers and quality, until they were swallowed entirely by the tide of their charge.
The mighty host of Amazon warriors rolled over the dunes and rushed into the ravine like a pack of hunting lionesses, tearing into the fleeing enemy without mercy.
"Your Majesty, retreat! We've lost!"
The great hero Arash made his decision at once, ready to push Darius III, who was overcome with grief at old general Memnon's death, onto a flying carpet and split the army in two, cutting off a tail to preserve the rest.
"The Great King entrusted this duty to me. This battle may only end in victory, never in defeat! If we cannot achieve it, then let the gods punish us here!"
But the tall, powerfully built Darius III violently shook off Arash's arm, drew the curved blade engraved with sacred inscriptions, and raised it high into the air, his face filled with resolve as his lips moved in prayer.
May the true god Ahura grant me victory in battle!
Sacred white-gold flames ignited along the blade. One line of Persian script after another formed from the flames, peeled away, and branded themselves onto the surrounding rock, creating a great altar.
As the inscriptions pulsed and resonated, a blazing white pillar of light shot into the sky.
At the same time, more than a hundred white-robed spellcasters gathered and began chanting aloud. Within the pillar of light, the phantom of a great golden book slowly solidified, its pages flipping with a rustle.
The Sword of the Dead, the Book of Destiny! Persia's two great divine artifacts had both appeared!
A divine descent!
Samael looked toward the blazing white pillar rising from the gathered Persian forces in the ravine, where the divine presence was growing stronger and stronger, and the tension in his brow finally eased.
To assemble three hundred thousand men and launch a war meant to destroy a nation, how could there not be a god behind it, openly or in secret?
Good thing I'm patient.
I finally fished you out of your rat hole.
"Since you're here, then stay."
As the final silent syllable slipped from Samael's lips, an eerie vibration linked together from every direction. Reflected in his opening and closing cross-star eyes were hundreds upon thousands of transparent Runes and cuneiform divine marks spread across several li, layered within layers into something like a prison that seemed both sealed and open.
Whether it was Rome's immediate crisis or the third Greco-Persian War already poised to erupt, the one-and-done solution was to kill Cyrus first, cripple the main Persian force on the eastern front, and then deal with the rest of the mess afterward.
Unfortunately, he had struck too hard in Rome last time and nearly crippled Cyrus outright. As a result, the Persian king had abandoned his allies and run faster than a rabbit.
This time, Cyrus clearly had lasting psychological scars. And with neither Attila nor Ramesses II stepping in, he would definitely be even more cautious.
On top of that, with the Book of Destiny at his side, the Persian king was first-rate at running away. Meeting him directly on the battlefield was no easy thing.
There was no helping it. The only plan Samael could come up with was to muddy the waters first, force the Persian army into a desperate situation, and create the illusion that he was no longer on the eastern front, then wait for Cyrus to lose patience and show himself.
Tsk. To hook a fish, I actually have to take the fish's feelings into account...
Samael grumbled inwardly. His cross-star eyes opened and closed as his body leaned back like a drawn bow. The Spear of Nation Building in his right hand wrapped itself in red-black flames, and the instant the divine will within the pillar of light fully solidified, he hurled it out with explosive force.
It instantly pierced the figure stepping out of the void and appearing above the great altar.
Boom!
The spear punched straight through his chest. Caught completely off guard, Cyrus had only just appeared atop the altar when he was blasted backward, golden-red divine blood spraying from him as he shot away like a meteor and slammed hard into the rock wall.
That surprise strike hit so suddenly that the secret Magi presiding over the ritual to summon the true god all coughed blood and fell backward, staring in disbelief at the burning humanoid crater in the cliff face, its surrounding rock melted and crystallized by the heat.
God... Godslayer!
Scheherazade's lips turned white, her eyes filled with terror. The emotional shock nearly made her faint on the spot. Even after the companions beside her caught and steadied her, her body still trembled and her limbs had gone icy cold.
It's over!
Hum!
Just as the Persians turned deathly pale with despair in their eyes, a golden wheel without any image markings on its ten segments hummed into existence around the rock wall. The pointer turned toward a golden goat, and a tremendous surge of life, compressed to the limit, suddenly burst forth.
Self-healing? No. Resurrection!
A cold smile curled across Samael's lips. He stepped hard and lunged forward, the rock beneath his feet cracking and collapsing. In his hand, the cross spear ignited with red-black flames, radiating a vicious malice that cursed life itself.
Then I'll kill you one more time!