Boom!
Amid a terrifying blast, Cyrus, who had just burst out of the crater, was smashed away again together with the golden greatsword in his hand, its blade covered in Persian divine markings. Dust exploded all along his path, and golden-red divine blood scattered wildly through the air.
A figure wrapped in fiercely burning red-black flames charged after him in a burst of speed, holding a spear in each hand.
Within the drifting dust, Cyrus's heart pounded violently. Forcing his divine power back up, he gripped the golden greatsword in both hands and swung desperately, struggling to hold off the assault.
In only a few breaths, the wound through the Persian king's chest, which had just been healed by [Ram], was torn open again. Every pull and every shock made it worse.
Cyrus gritted his teeth and desperately blocked the two deadly spears striking from left and right. The barrage came faster with every thrust, numbing his arms and forcing his feet to gouge uneven craters into the ground as he staggered back again and again. More wounds opened across his body, and the situation grew worse by the moment.
This is... shameless!
Shaken to the core, the Persian king could not help crying out in grief and fury.
He had only just descended, had not even had time to regain his bearings, and was immediately skewered through the heart by a cold surprise attack, left on the brink of death.
If not for the [Ram] authority of the War God pulling him back from the edge, he might have died on the spot without even seeing clearly who had attacked him.
If the weak were using underhanded tricks against the strong, that would at least be understandable.
But that bastard was stronger than he was and still had the nerve to hide in the dark and ambush him!
And that was not even the end of it. From the first strike until now, the enemy's offensive had never stopped for even a moment, leaving him no chance to breathe.
With his injuries still unhealed, he could only bring out seventy or eighty percent of his full strength. Against a powerful enemy who had been waiting in ambush for so long, he had no room to fight back at all.
Since becoming a god, he had never seen a deity this utterly devoid of scruples or shame.
Cyrus faltered for an instant, and another strip of flesh was ripped from beneath his ribs by a spear tip. His cheek twitched as he hurriedly turned the pointer on the golden disk behind him to [Phoenix]. At once, wings of light formed from converging feathers spread wide, and with a sudden burst of speed he barely pulled away.
But the instant he rose into the air, the sky darkened as though night had fallen. Stars gleamed overhead, and one glowing rune after another came crashing down at him with lightning speed.
Damn it, there was an ambush above too!
As clusters of light gathered around him, swelled, and exploded, Emperor Cyrus was overwhelmed with grief and rage and could not stop himself from cursing inwardly.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
For a moment, the sky blazed as bright as day. Then a blackened, smoking figure, its light wings shattered to pieces, tumbled headfirst toward the ground.
Samael bent low, half crouched, the muscles of his body coiling and quivering like dragons and pythons. Mimicking the spear-throwing technique of his old friend Scáthach, he poured into it divine markings bearing curse and instant-death properties. Crimson barbs laden with malice grew out along both sides of the spearhead, one after another.
Thrust! Pierce! Death Thorns!
The hideous barbed spear shot forth like a meteor, carrying overwhelming force as it pierced toward the falling Cyrus.
But just as the spear was about to hit its target, a plain, unadorned arrow struck the spearhead. The instant the arrow tip touched that overwhelming divine power, it burst apart.
Yet that tiny, seemingly insignificant touch was like a butterfly flapping its wings and summoning a storm.
Bang!
Ether detonated outward, and rings of golden-red light rippled from the point of collision. Thrown off by a hair's breadth, the barbed spear veered from its path and struck Cyrus through the shoulder blade instead, pinning him to the ground.
At the same time, the Persians trapped in the encirclement and fighting like cornered beasts erupted in cheers. The last of the Undead formed a tight protective ring around the great hero Arash, who had saved Emperor Cyrus atop the slope.
Breaking the whole through a single point, using the weak to overcome the strong. What fine archery.
Samael halted, then sharply turned his head to look at the sturdy black-haired young man who had dared intervene in a battle between gods, admiration visible in his eyes.
At that moment, their gazes met across the air. The great hero of Persia placed one hand over his chest in salute and gave a bright, open smile.
Then, though the two stood nearly a thousand meters apart, roaring tides of Ether erupted around both of them at the same time.
"...O my lord, radiant as the sun.
O lord of light, who grants all wisdom, dignity, and strength.
Witness my heart, my thoughts, and the deed I am about to accomplish.
Come, O god who created the stars and the moon.
Bear witness to my actions, my end, and my sacred devotion..."
Amid the Persian ranks, this great hero of Persia spread his arms and drew his longbow, chanting a prayer that was urgent yet solemn. Golden flames poured from his cracking flesh, burning and flowing as they gathered upon the arrow poised on the string.
O foreign god, bear witness to my... Stella!"
As blood mist burst from his body and his muscles and bones let out groans of strain, the human figure on the verge of collapse looked on with pride in his eyes.
At the same moment, Samael reacted even faster. His fingers curled, clawing hard at empty air, and several Rune symbols as heavy as cannonballs came crashing down before that radiant arrow could be loosed, causing the entire low hill to thunder and collapse.
In that instant, the great hero Arash, still holding his shooting stance, had the right arm that drew the bowstring ripped apart, flesh and bone flying until it exploded away from the shoulder, leaving behind a jagged white stump. The layers of protective light wrapped around him shattered one after another, and his limbs and torso burst into clouds of blood as he fell backward.
Admiration is a tribute paid to a hero.
Taking action is an attack upon an enemy.
You had already done everything you could for your country and for your king.
Great hero of Persia, Arash Kamangir!
Samael's gaze was pure and deep. The Spear of Nation Building appeared inch by inch in his hand as he turned and charged toward where Cyrus had fallen.
"Go!"
At that moment, with the pages of fate in Scheherazade's hands sustaining him, Arash, with only a breath of life left, coughed up blood, grabbed Darius III by the arm, and with great difficulty forced out one last warning before slumping unconscious.
Even the hero praised by the Great King had fallen.
The tall, broad Darius III rose and looked toward the Persian army in the ravine. They charged left and right, unable to break through the encirclement, and despair and madness were already spreading through them. Regret and confusion filled him.
If Arash's trump card had been used for a breakout, they might still have had one last sliver of hope.
But in the end, he still had not given up.
Lord Ahura, have you truly abandoned the Persians?
Darius III looked at the great altar, where every divine name from the temple had been invoked again and again without receiving any answer. Holding the Sword of the Dead, he looked stricken and furious.
The priests and clergymen beside him wore the same ashen faces.
"Your Majesty, only a god can oppose a god. Do you remember that village... that boy you saved?
Perhaps... we still have one last chance..."
At that moment, Scheherazade, her will to survive surging, gritted her teeth and brought up the taboo she had encountered during the purge of those extreme followers of Zoroastrianism.
With no road left open, Darius III raised the Sword of the Dead, and a look of utter madness spilled from his eyes.
Boom!
Just as Samael knocked Cyrus flying once again and was about to follow up with the cross spear already poised to strike, eerie red-black lightning lashed out in all directions. In an instant, dark clouds packed the sky, and dozens of spiraling wind columns descended from the ink-black cloud layer. Within them, twisted human shapes could vaguely be seen tearing at each other and screaming.
Hum!
In that instant, heaven and earth resonated together. A red-black pillar of light shot into the sky, and the barrier formed by the Rune symbols shattered with a thunderous crash.
A divine descent!
Sensing the grim malice rising ever higher from within the Persian ranks, the Ancient Serpent felt his brow pound violently as a strong sense of dread wrapped around his heart.
What the hell had they summoned this time?!