Late at night, Tanbei Canyon, the Persian camp.
Inside the hastily erected medical tents, the screams and groans of the wounded rose and fell without end. Basin after basin of filthy blood, severed limbs, and scraps of organs were thrown into the barren ravines.
Compared to the Pan-Hellenic League, the Persian Empire lagged far behind in medicine. For generations, Persian emperors had even brought Greek physicians into the palace to serve the royal family.
Because of that, the death rate among wounded Persian soldiers had always been much higher than among the Greeks.
Gradually, the thick smell of blood spread everywhere, and even the drifting mist seemed to take on a dark red hue.
From time to time, slave soldiers carried out bodies that had stopped breathing, threw them into the hollows, and set them alight. The stench of burnt flesh drifted on the wind.
Inside the camp, where lamplight swayed, patrols moved with the scrape of armor, yet they still could not hold back the oppressive, fearful atmosphere spreading through the ranks.
At the heart of the Persian camp, a blazing white sacred flame burned bright.
The Immortal Army hidden in the darkness around it cast interwoven, mottled shadows, filling the area with a chilling killing intent.
Snap.
Inside a tent patterned with bright white flames, the golden-haired, handsome Saint casually closed an ancient parchment scroll. His torch-like eyes turned toward the figure kneeling below.
"So, he let you return on his own initiative?"
"As you can see, Your Highness."
Martha nodded solemnly and briefly recounted her experience to the Saint.
Of course, she omitted certain unsightly details, such as being used as someone's pillow and the line about "sleeping together sometime."
When everyone in the tent heard that the Greek army seemed to be continually expanding its forces and receiving wide-ranging support, their faces changed. The atmosphere around them grew so heavy it nearly froze.
Yesterday's encounter had left their army utterly defeated, yet that had not even been the full strength of the Greeks!
Now, over a thousand Persian warships in the rear had been surrounded and destroyed. The Sea of Chaos, their route of retreat, was sealed off by the Deep Sea Fleet. Ahead, Thermopylae was packed with troops and blocked the key path of advance, turning into an impassable natural barrier.
The Persian army trapped in Tanbei Canyon was like a rat inside a bellows, blocked front and back with nowhere to advance or retreat. Sooner or later, it would be devoured by the Greeks, who held every advantage.
Just as the decision-makers were at a complete loss, Martha recalled everything she had seen along the way. She gritted her teeth, looked up at the Saint on the throne, and made a proposal.
"Your Highness, to be honest, I have seen the situation inside Thermopylae. Continuing this war no longer has any meaning. The Greeks also do not seem intent on fighting us to mutual destruction. If you are willing to give up, I am willing to go to Thermopylae again as an envoy and persuade that man to reach a settlement with Persia."
"How dare you! You would betray the Lord's glory and side with the enemy!"
The blond Saint's face turned cold. His solemn divine might surged outward like a collapsing mountain and a crashing sea, making many of the weaker attendees in the tent tremble violently. Their faces went pale, and fear rose in their hearts as if they were ants before a giant.
At the same time, three pairs of burning wings of light appeared behind the throne. A dark red cross-shaped sword hung above everyone's heads like a torch that could burn the world.
Martha, who bore the brunt of it, was struck as if by lightning. Her back bent under the terrifying force field, and she braced both hands against the ground. The bricks beneath her feet shattered one after another, and a thread of crimson blood spilled from the corner of the violet-haired Holy Maiden's mouth.
"Your Highness, please calm your anger. This child simply cannot bear to see so many sacrifices. Compassion is a nature bestowed upon mankind by the Lord."
Seeing the dark red cross-shaped greatsword grow more and more overwhelming, a soothing melody came from the right. King David, holding his harp, played a psalm and struggled into the storm field to plead before the Saint on the throne.
"The hypocrisy of the wicked hides only before the Lord, while the righteousness of the devout is laid bare before Him in honest appeal. This proves that the child has not abandoned salvation."
Then the Queen of Sheba on the left, her eyes bright and perceptive, tactfully spoke in Martha's defense.
"Reality is what it is. Can the Lord not tolerate plain speech and honest action?"
After that, Batras, the Son of the Sword, also stepped forward. The crimson-black magical flames on his armor offset the pressure of the divine might as he spoke calmly.
"Blasphemy. Shut your mouth!"
The Saint shouted coldly, his eyes burning like fire.
"Blasphemy, my ass. Why are you yelling so loudly? If you want a fight, let's go outside and have one! During the day, the moment that Greek stepped onto the field, you tucked tail and hid. Now you only know how to throw your weight around with your own people. I've been sick of you, pretty boy!"
Vritra impatiently picked at her ear, her face full of cold mockery. As she spoke, she summoned her spear, and her aura boiled around her, confronting the dark red cross-shaped sword in the air. Surging Ether made the curtains around them snap and billow.
Damn it!
Big sister, we are trying to mediate, not force a palace coup!
King David and the Queen of Sheba, who had only wanted to speak up for their junior, were caught in the middle and could only suffer in silence.
Buzz!
Just as the restless, battle-hungry Asura King licked her lips and really began to look eager to try, the Saint on the throne fixed his cold gaze forward. The ancient parchment scroll rustled open, and seven dark red seals of different shapes emerged from the pages, humming and trembling.
The corresponding seals on each of the seven riders present lit up. Their faces changed sharply as an irresistible force struck straight at their souls. It was an inescapable mandate of fate.
What the hell does this have to do with us?
Cain's face went pale, and his organs shook. The injuries he had only just suppressed almost flared up again, and he cursed inwardly.
But after that brief warning, the overwhelming pressure vanished in an instant.
The Saint on the jade throne closed the ancient scroll, the sharpness in his gaze fading as his voice sank.
"Glory, majesty, power, and authority all belong to the Lord. Spirits who serve the light, do not forget to keep reverence in your hearts.
"Withdraw. I have no intention of pursuing guilt."
The Heroic Spirits summoned by the Holy Grail and controlled by the Book of Destiny and the Seven Seals all twitched their eyelids and wisely fell silent. Even someone as powerful as Vritra could not help feeling wary. She gave a cold snort and said no more.
Besides, in his handling of Martha, the Saint had already made a visible concession.
After a moment of silence in the tent, the Saint's crimson eyes flickered, and he spoke in a low voice.
"That foreign king is wounded?"
"…"
Still half-kneeling below, the violet-haired Holy Maiden stiffened and could not help hesitating.
"Martha, one graced by the Lord, you must not speak falsely before His witness. Answer my question!"
The Saint's voice rose, his scrutinizing gaze like a drawn blade. Beside her, King David and the Queen of Sheba kept signaling Martha with their eyes.
"…Yes, Your Highness…"
The violet-haired Holy Maiden tightly clutched the "Star of David" in her arms. Her fingers clenched. After a long silence, she finally answered, though her head dipped even lower.
"That foreign king is gravely wounded…"
"Very good. Your devotion will be forgiven. Rise. Remember the Lord's grace, and do not waver."
Having received the answer he wanted, the Saint nodded in satisfaction. He treated the Holy Maiden's matter as serious in appearance but let it pass lightly, then raised his eyes toward the assembled decision-makers and made a solemn declaration.
"This is not a simple worldly war. It is judgment, meant to sweep away the Lord's enemies and redeem all people! Retreat will not be permitted! Every sacrifice will be worth it!"