Chapter 882 - Swamp
Both Cypress and Krang had seen through some of the South's tricks.
"Still, they wouldn't have sent knights in droves just to strike the rear."
Krang judged so. Striking the kingdom's rear and cutting off supply lines were important, but if they lost in the all-out war, those sent to the rear would merely be degraded to bandit groups roaming within the kingdom.
How many knights, called disasters, would they send to such a place?
They wouldn't be able to send that many.
"That is unknown, Your Highness."
Cypress shook his head at Krang's words.
"I am speaking from a tactical perspective."
"War is more unknowable than a woman's heart."
These were words from a man who had lived on the battlefield and held a sword for a long time.
The weight they carried was different.
The battlefield is fire and water.
It is variable, changes somehow, and no one knows where it will spread or flow.
It can be guided, but not everything goes according to will.
Cypress knew that truth.
"We only sent Enki as our knight, but what if there are two or more on their side?"
At Krang's question, Cypress quietly thought about the human named Enkrid.
'Up to two.'
Unless they were considerable experts, they wouldn't be a threat.
Enkrid's skill was not ordinary.
Cypress's eye, having met, fought, and experienced many knights, was as exceptional as Frog's.
Although he didn't have a theory defining knight levels like Enkrid, he had eyes to grasp them in his own way.
'Ten-year level.'
Based on the time enduring inside the Demon Realm.
It was something felt intuitively by synthesizing everything: the degree of body training, posture, attitude, tone, etc.
That's why it couldn't be made into a theory.
Because it was judged purely based on his own experience.
In his view, Enkrid would live for more than ten years even if dropped in the middle of the Demon Realm.
Based on the standard of surviving in his Demon Realm, it was high praise.
'All of them.'
Moreover, such people were not just one or two.
The collection of guys who seemed like they would survive even after ten years was The Madmen Knights.
He usually evaluated ordinary knights as lasting one year or at most about five years.
"About two."
Cypress muttered.
Of course, the number of knights increasing to two didn't simply mean there were two swords to dodge.
Complex factors were mixed into the direction of the fight.
If the Goddess of Luck played tricks here, even a mercenary who swung a sword all his life could have his neck cut by a fifteen-year-old girl who just picked up a sword—that is a fight.
Even so.
'That friend doesn't seem like he'll be beaten easily.'
His prediction was correct.
Enkrid didn't get pushed back even a little against two knights.
He overwhelmed them.
Even though he flew in a crouched position all day and fought after eating and sleeping up there, he killed two knights.
It wasn't for nothing that the soldiers watching shouted, 'The flower of the battlefield is the Madness.'
All those who saw it were engulfed in a thrill that made their fine hairs stand on end.
Cypress's gaze headed towards the remaining members of The Madmen Knights.
Although southern knights were famous for their rough spirit.
"Will that griffon listen if I smack its head a few times?"
"Don't you have some sort of talent to turn into an eagle, you barbarian fuck?"
"My Lord who governs war speaks. That you have two sturdy legs."
This was a conversation exchanged by Rem, Ragna, and Audin in turn.
A paladin who ended up merely tired despite performing the ridiculous miracle of declaring a sanctuary, a barbarian saying he would beat a monster to make it listen, and a swordsman looking like he was from the North urging a person to turn into an eagle—they were all the same.
'Everyone is crazy.'
Cypress evaluated them like that.
Perhaps when this war ends, even the belligerence the South boasts of will be crushed by their madness?
These were words spoken from experience accumulated living on the battlefield for a long time.
Furthermore, intuition agreed.
"Then what about three?"
Krang, the king of a nation, asked.
When Cypress didn't answer readily, Krang asked again.
"If he faces three?"
"Your Highness, the number of knights going from two to three isn't simply an increase in number."
Cypress answered.
As always, his tone was calm and plain.
"So you mean it's difficult?"
"We won't know until they fight."
"How many southern knights do you think there are?"
To the question asked while doing so, an answer came immediately this time.
"At least twenty."
If not for the Demon Realm blocking the way, the difference in power between Naurillia and Lihin-Stetten was so clear that a war wouldn't even be established.
"How many have you faced?"
The man who filled the gap in power between the two countries besides the Demon Realm showed a smile.
When aliases like 'Manages Somehow' or 'Accomplishes Anything' were attached, Cypress alone tied the hands and feet of five knights.
The wound cut on his chest then remained as a deep scar, and the fellow who cut his chest must still be alive.
***
Esther quietly looked back.
In her eyes, the castle walls passing the sunlight and the army lined up in front of them were visible.
"Esther, if war breaks out, how many people will die? Ten? A hundred? A thousand?"
The words of the guy named Krais entered her head and wouldn't leave.
She didn't like him ever since she was a leopard, and she still didn't.
He deliberately urged and pushed her back.
She would have stepped up even if left alone.
Yet he came specifically to spit out such words.
It wasn't an attitude she liked.
Nevertheless, the will imbued in his actions and words was real.
'He does anything.'
Krais would do so to protect the current city.
'Then what about me?'
Their existence changed her perspective on viewing her Spell World.
Julie selling marmalade, Vanessa who built the library, the woman grilling seasoned jerky, the former soldier specializing in sewing.
The existence of people made her feel new emotions.
"Protect everyone."
She recited, filled with awkwardness.
Was that something fitting for the Witch of Struggle?
What would her master say if she were alive?
Fortunately, she knew what she would say from the beginning.
"Do as you please. Esther. Child of Stars my foot, a witch originally specializes in living as she pleases."
She was a truly cool master.
"Master, we are ready."
Words calling her from behind.
Now Esther hears the title of master.
This is also awkward.
Since she couldn't teach spells the way she learned, she had to learn everything anew like taking baby steps.
Only then could she teach.
It was a magic unit created like that.
What started with just a few talented soldiers had now grown to over twenty.
Among them were those with talent, but there were also those who diligently walked, ran, and advanced despite lacking it, opening a part of their Spell World.
With the Spell World opened like that, they would eventually fail to reach the stars.
They would remain mediocre wizards for life.
That was why she asked why they went so far, and the soldier answered.
"I do not regret it. I'm protecting my wife with this, aren't I?"
He had a fiancée in the city.
Said they were holding the ceremony next month or something.
Esther thought.
Did his answer bring her to the present?
If Enkrid was the start, they were indeed the process.
Every single word of theirs influenced the current her.
Where did the witch who ignored others' words and pioneered her own path go?
"I must welcome some uninvited guests."
At least right now, a different witch from before stood here.
She didn't know how she would change tomorrow, but for now, it was so.
The witch who had been fascinated by the human named Enkrid now cherished people.
What she was doing from now on was for that.
"I pray to Lutralatra, born and raised in the swamp to rule the world."
The witch, whose entire spell chant was usually 'Dmulle's Scythe', chanted a long spell.
Her voice overlapped and rang the air.
"In exchange for borrowing your authority, your miracles, your magic, I will give you that land."
As taught by her, the twenty soldiers also gathered mana and offered it to her.
Conveying the mana condensed in their Spell Worlds as worship for someone.
All the soldiers rolled their eyes back and drooled from their mouths.
Several bodies trembled violently.
If a wizard who had realized their Spell World was here, they would have been appalled.
Among them, a relatively righteous wizard would say this first.
"Forbidden art!"
The magic her subordinate magic unit showed now was a forbidden art.
A spell that fattens one's own world by sacrificing those who have built similar Spell Worlds, named 'Worshipping Corpse.'
Those involved in this spell die.
Becoming corpses in a posture of kneeling, forehead touching the ground, and palms facing the sky.
That was why it got its name.
Next, a wizard valuing practicality over righteousness would click their tongue and gape in surprise.
"Twisting a forbidden art?"
Esther did not take the lives of those she raised herself.
She is a genius.
She interpreted the spell system of the forbidden art, grasped the structure, and then redesigned it.
If a layperson heard this, they might say, 'That's possible,' but to those engaged in magic, it was an appalling act.
Metaphorically, this is like guessing the place and date of birth just by looking at a person's appearance.
No, beyond guessing, it's like disassembling the elements constituting that person and reassembling them to make a similar but different person.
Of course, Esther couldn't guess a person's birthplace or birth date just by looking at their face.
Her innate talent of grasping spells through senses made this possible only within the realm magic.
She used the forbidden art to twist the worship.
A borrowing spell, she changed the structure where one must pay a price when borrowing power from an otherworldly being.
'Borrowing power.'
The price is a piece of land.
With that, the contract was established.
It is the highest tier among borrowing spells.
The otherworldly being performs a miracle.
Kurreureu-
The soil of the area designated by the authority she borrowed turns muddy.
Moisture seeps into the dry earth, and bubbles of mud burst from within.
One of the Yellow Soil Corps' specialties is marching.
They are an army composed solely of infantry without cavalry or anything.
That tradition raised their march training intensity several times higher compared to other units.
To such a unit, Naurillia's safety road was close to a promenade.
***
"Did they pave the road asking to be killed?"
The Yellow Soil Corps walked that path without hesitation.
Puk, then the ankle of the scout standing at the head sank into the ground.
"What?"
"Swamp? It's a swamp!"
"Hey, bring a rope!"
Magic is a miracle and a marvel.
Meaning, it's a series of nonsensical events to ordinary eyes.
The soldier who first got his foot stuck didn't think much of it.
Outwardly, isn't the ground turning into a swamp a daily occurrence?
There are many rougher terrains in the Demon Realm.
The scouts of the convict unit were originally a breed that repeatedly gambled with their lives on the line.
Through such processes, they were people whose sense for detecting danger had become excellent.
"Wait, this is strange."
A few soldiers said.
"Oh shit."
"When?"
"Huh?"
The surroundings all turned into swampland.
While saying bring a rope and some soldiers moved back and forth hearing that, feet started sinking, submerged up to the calves.
"This place is a swamp too!"
Feet sank even on ground that was clearly fine just a moment ago.
Several soldiers had their calves submerged, then up to their waists.
"What's with the sudden fog? Huh?"
Suddenly, water mist even rises above the ground.
There's no lake, and it happened while warm sunlight was beating down from a dry sky.
Light permeated through the water mist in dots and touched the land that had become a swamp.
Sunlight should normally drive away fog, but now that normal process didn't happen.
Esther offered the land as a price and spread a fog that summoned illusions.
The command was not as flustered as the soldiers.
Only a part of the lead scouts had sunk.
"Someone used a spell."
Said a wizard who had joined the Yellow Soil Corps.
Naturally, there are those who use spells in the South too, and three of them had joined this side by the Great Emperor's order.
They are those with the aliases 'Blood Appraiser', 'Ruler of Moles', and 'Corpse Collector' respectively.
Since all three had some skill, they roughly recognized what the opponent did.
"Hmph, did they offer their lifespan or something?"
It's a large-scale spell covering the entire unit.
At this level, the wizard who realized the spell would be barely breathing and staggering.
"Must be the doing of that bitch called Child of Stars."
The Blood Appraiser said.
They knew of Esther's existence.
The South knew more than expected.
They listened to rumors and didn't take them lightly.
If they knew, preparing was the natural course of action.
"Gurupeng Panisha."
The third wizard was from a mountain clan living in the western corner of the South.
The fellow with his face decorated with black and red dye blabbered words no one could understand.
It was familiar to the other two wizards.
"Solution."
The commander appeared abruptly between them and asked.
"Just kill the wizard."
The Blood Appraiser said.
He is a vampire.
His bright red eyes looked as if filled with blood.
"Pustis, go kill her."
The leader immediately sent one subordinate knight.
A wizard would be weak to sword strikes, wouldn't they?
"And you three?"
Then asked the wizards.
"We will go together."
The Ruler of Moles said and moved immediately.
"What about reversing that swamp?"
The commander asked the remaining wizard.
"Impossible. since they probably offered their lifespan."
The vampire answered.
The commander nodded and said.
"Then go and do your job. If you kill the subject of the spell, won't it stop even if it doesn't return to normal?"
"High probability of that."
The Blood Appraiser said so and followed the other wizard.
The fellow blabbering strange words also waddled behind them holding a spear decorated with eagle feathers.
It was just when the three wizards left the commander's sight.
Just before each exerted their specialty and moved.
How to say, it should be said that no one was in a state of any preparation.
It was even before the knight named Pustis departed from within the Mud Knights.
Among the three wizards ahead in greed, the Ruler of Moles got a hole in his neck without even reciting a single spell.
Puk-
Compared to the scream of a soldier shouting to be saved from sinking in the swamp far away, it was too small a noise.
A transparent blade, covered in blood, exited avoiding the neck bone.
Due to the blood, the shape of the blade was visible in spots.
A blade like a sharp skewer.
One wizard died.
Considering what he could do, too vainly.
Although an assassin's activity was originally like this, one couldn't help but be surprised even seeing it.
"...Kyak!"
The startled vampire jumped in place.
The same for the wizard holding the spear decorated with eagle feathers.
The wizard with a hole in his neck collapsed to the ground, but the one who actually did it was invisible.
It was a strange thing.
"Assassin!"
The vampire shouted.
He closed his eyes and performed a trick.
A technique sensing sound waves.
Also called echolocation, it was an appropriate skill for detecting invisible guys.
"Ground!"
He shouted urgently.
The wizard and shaman holding the eagle feather spear struck the ground with his spear blade without even a moment to shout.
The spear blade struck the ground with a puk-.
Only then was a human figure visible to his eyes.
It was a fellow wearing brown leather with a texture similar to the ground.
He spun his body while lying down and got up.
The spear passed by his side.
It was unknown whether he dodged or if the shaman missed while stabbing in a hurry.
The fellow who got up wore a hood and even a mask, so his face wasn't visible.
"Duruduru!"
The shaman immediately pulled out the spear and thrust it forward again.
For a wizard, he had excellent talent handling weapons.
Of course, to someone specializing in assassination and possessing knight-level martial power, it looked clumsy.
***
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