Translator: CinderTL
When Sven's ambush force emerged from the hillside, Arno's pupils constricted, and a genuine chill ran through him for the first time.
Gloria...
She had set this trap long ago?
His mind raced, his gaze involuntarily sweeping past the layers of figures toward the west.
At the end of the night-shrouded hills lay Sunset Canyon, the vital choke point leading back to the Eastern Lands.
Could even that place be...?
The brief panic receded like a tide, replaced by icy resolve.
So what if there are ambush troops in the canyon?
It was the only road back to his territory.
Besides, in his eyes, only Duke and Graham were worthy opponents on this battlefield.
Gloria? The Blazing Sun Church?
A sneer twisted his lips.
This Imperial Princess might be skilled in scheming, but before absolute power, she was merely someone who lit a candle and imagined they controlled the light.
"Two Shadow Eaters will cover our rear, holding off the ambush force. The rest of you—"
His voice, though hoarse and low, now carried unwavering conviction.
"Break through the ambush and charge straight for Sunset Canyon!"
As the command fell, two shadowy figures materialized from the darkness behind him.
Clad in cloaks emblazoned with dark patterns, their auras were profound and unfathomable—Arno's personal transcendent professionals.
The two men exchanged only a slight nod before turning to face the relentless rain of arrows cascading down the hillside.
Dark shadow energy surged around them, boiling like a living entity as it surged upward, momentarily freezing the descending arrows in mid-air.
"Go!" Arno barked, his voice sharp and decisive. Without hesitation, he spurred his horse into a full sprint.
The remaining Royal Guard rallied around him, shielding him with their bodies from the relentless hail of arrows. They carved a bloody path through the storm of death, their flesh and bone a desperate barrier against the relentless onslaught.
Hooves pounded the earth, kicking up clouds of dust.
Arno didn't even glance back at the two subordinates sacrificing their lives to buy him time. His gaze remained fixed forward, determined to break through before the Duke's forces caught up.
But no sooner had they escaped Sven's ambush than a horn blared from the grove ahead.
Fide's second ambush force materialized like ghosts, unleashing another torrent of arrows and a cacophony of battle cries.
Arno's eyes narrowed. Without hesitation, he ordered the transcendent professionals accompanying him to intercept the ambushers. With a crack of his whip, he spurred his horse westward once more.
By the time he finally broke free of the deadly grove, less than a hundred Royal Guard remained at his side.
Every man was wounded and gasping for breath, their horses foaming at the mouth, clearly nearing their limits.
Blood and dust caked their exhausted faces as the party pressed onward in grim silence. Only the rhythmic clatter of hooves against the barren ground and the fading shouts of pursuit carried on the wind broke the stillness.
Erwin rode closer, his voice hoarse from thirst.
"Your Grace, the pursuers seem to have slowed down... The soldiers and horses are near exhaustion. Should we..."
"We cannot stop," Arno interrupted, his voice as cold and hard as iron. He didn't even glance at the swaying, loyal guards.
"If necessary, abandon anyone who can't keep up. Once I return to the Eastern Lands, we can recruit as many warriors as we need."
Erwin's Adam's apple bobbed, but he ultimately lowered his head.
"Yes, Your Grace."
He followed Arno's intense gaze into the distance.
The deep silhouette of Sunset Canyon was now faintly visible in the twilight, resembling a giant beast silently opening its jaws.
"Your Grace..." Erwin's voice dropped even lower, his anxiety barely concealed. "If Princess Gloria can predict our every move with such precision, even setting ambushes on all our retreat routes... then Sunset Canyon itself might also be..."
Before Erwin could finish, several sharp, piercing sounds tore through the brief silence.
Arrows, gleaming with cold moonlight, shot like venomous snakes straight toward Arno's face and chest.
"Hah, the same old tricks..."
Arno scoffed, his wrist flicking as his longsword precisely met the incoming arrowheads.
But the instant the blade clashed with the arrow tips, his brow furrowed sharply.
The force behind the arrows far exceeded that of ordinary projectiles, far beyond what a common archer could have launched.
Clang!
Despite his surprise, Arno's immense strength barely managed to deflect the arrows.
The strange projectiles, having lost their target, plunged deep into the scorched earth beside him, their fletchings trembling slightly from the impact.
Just as he instinctively moved to order the last few transcendents beside him to advance and intercept any potential ambushers, a sudden transformation occurred.
The hidden runes etched into the arrows buried in the earth abruptly lit up, emitting an ominous, heart-stopping azure glow.
These arrows weren't meant to kill, but rather...
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Deafening explosions erupted in rapid succession. Yet instead of scorching flames and shrapnel, visible rings of violently twisting mana surged outward.
This chaotic energy spread like an invisible tidal wave, savagely battering and tearing apart every living being and energy structure within its range.
"Ugh!"
Arno groaned, feeling the air around him suddenly freeze as if gripped by an invisible hand. His qi and blood churned violently within him.
Behind him, the Royal Guard, already exhausted and sustained only by sheer willpower, couldn't even muster a full scream.
The merciless torrent of mana swept through, warhorses whinnying as they collapsed to their knees. The light in the soldiers' eyes rapidly dimmed, their bodies crumpling like puppets with their strings cut.
It took only a single breath.
When the eerie, azure glow dissipated, not a single one of the hundred-plus Royal Guard who had been protecting Arno remained standing.
They lay silently on the shattered earth, their life force completely extinguished.
The dust and lingering mana fragments had yet to settle, and the night air, thick with the stench of blood, hung heavy and impenetrable.
His vision blurred, Arno felt an overwhelming presence descend, but it wasn't targeting him directly. Instead, it swept outward like an invisible scythe, reaping everything in its path.
"Ugh... ah!"
A piercing scream erupted from beside him almost simultaneously.
This was only the beginning.
Immediately afterward, a second scream, then a third...
Short, desperate cries erupted one after another, like birds having their necks snapped.
Arno's body turned ice-cold. He could clearly sense the life force of his remaining three transcendent professional subordinates extinguishing one by one at an alarming rate.
Swift and decisive, as if snuffing out candles.
Everything happened too quickly. From the fading shockwave of the explosion to the arrival of the slaughter, barely two or three heartbeats had passed.
So fast that he didn't even have time to activate the surging strength within him. So fast that by the time he realized where the attack was coming from, the sounds around him had already fallen into near-deathly silence.
"Erwin!" Arno gritted his teeth, his voice a low growl as he tried to locate his most trusted lieutenant amidst the chaos.
But the response wasn't the familiar voice he expected. Instead, there was a dull thud—the heavy sound of flesh hitting the ground.
Then, a round object, still warm and damp, rolled to a stop at his boot.
Just then, a night wind swept through, clearing some of the lingering smoke and dust.
The pale moonlight cast a ghastly glow, illuminating the terrified face of the severed head at his feet.
It was Erwin.
His eyes were wide with horror, pupils dilated by extreme fear, frozen in his final moment, as if he had glimpsed some incomprehensible terror before death.
Fresh blood still seeped from his severed neck, staining the parched earth crimson.
"How is this possible...?"
Arno's fingers tightened around the sword hilt, his knuckles turning white from the strain.
He knew Erwin's strength well. Though not among the elite, he was a skilled knight.
And his transcendent professional subordinates were far from pushovers.
Even exhausted and weary, how could they have been...
How could they have been so utterly and silently slaughtered in such a fleeting, almost nonexistent moment?
An unprecedented chill crept up his spine.
Before the coldness could fade, a new sound pierced the blood- and dust-laden air:
Slow, heavy, oppressively rhythmic footsteps.
Thump...
Thump...
Thud...
It stepped onto the shattered earth with a suffocatingly even rhythm, as if not treading the ground but striking directly at the heart.
With each step, the surrounding deathly silence seemed to solidify further.
Dust still drifted faintly, obscuring the newcomer's silhouette. Only a vaguely discernible, exceptionally tall and muscular figure approached at a measured pace.
It emitted no roars or threats, simply advancing silently, one step after another, with the calm certainty of a hunter.
The lingering aura of death from the brief, brutal slaughter that had just occurred seemed to serve as its sole backdrop and justification.
Arno gripped his sword tightly, his icy fingertips once again feeling the solid weight of the metal.
He tensed every muscle in his body, the abyssal power within him struggling to coalesce against the still-turbulent currents of mana.
All doubt and uncertainty were forcibly suppressed, leaving only pure vigilance.
His gaze pierced through the thinning dust, locked firmly on the approaching silhouette—a harbinger of death and the unknown.
The footsteps ceased.
The figure halted about ten paces away, standing silently at the boundary between shadow and moonlight, an invisible pressure radiating from it.
Then, a voice broke the silence.
Deep, slow, and laced with a cat-and-mouse-like amusement.
Each word struck the deathly still night air with chilling clarity.
"Your Grace... do you like the gift I sent you?"
(End of the Chapter)
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