A dark drop of snow fell from the sky and landed on Acudona's shoulder armor. The Chief Swordsman himself didn't care about its existence, he just strode forward.

Actually, he didn't care about a lot of things—like this snow, or other snow, or wind and lightning.

So, what does he care about?

The chief swordsman stepped over a corpse with an indifferent expression, and the unusual snow swept over his shoulder and landed in the eyes of the dead.

The deceased's eyes were swollen and cloudy, bloodshot, and he was bleeding from his nose and still had a painful expression on his face. His breastplate was shattered, and the half-broken Imperial Aquila was standing strongly, but it still couldn't stop the death of its cuirass owner.

Symbols are just symbols after all, and they don't really bring any protection. Maybe once in a while, but now is not the time for the 'occasional' to come.

His tragic situation is a testament to the brutal battles he endured before his death, and none of that matters anymore. That single grain of snow began to melt in the eyes of the tragic soldier, and then more snow, as if endlessly, fell from the sky

In seconds, he was buried by the blizzard, along with countless corpses around him. Among them were pilgrims, but there were also many civilians. Only a few of the wreckage of the RAND raiders stubbornly poked out of the snow with their muzzles, emitting black smoke.

Well, what about Acudona, who straddled him? Was he fighting the perpetrators, fighting to the death against the murderers who had caused such a tragedy?

Not at the moment.

And, in fact, Acudona would not call this thing a battle either.

He twirled his twin knives softly, and walked alone into the dark mist. In the past eight hours, Acudona had seen countless similar patches of black fog, among which there were many shadows and a greedy surge of demonic tides.

He was no stranger to them, and he knew exactly what their appearance represented - slaughter, nothing more.

Massacres of civilians, massacres of armies, massacres of Astarte Countless bloody deaths, similar or different, are unfolding across Terra, and the murderers cannot even be named. They come in all shapes, ugly, disgusting, or simply beyond what reason can describe.

Acudona has seen too many 'them' in the last eight hours. If you talk about it in a more humorous way, he will say that he is about to die of ugliness.

He'd seen them inside the hive, in an underground shelter somewhere, in the broken corpses of men, women, and children

He thought he would be numb, however, as things stand, this was not the case.

He still thinks of the dead and thinks of their eyes. In silence, Accudona miraculously reversed how the massacre was carried out.

The first wave of killings was supposed to be the devout pilgrims, but the pace of the killings was deliberately slowed down by these demons. He didn't have an answer for the time being, and the defenders who arrived probably didn't have an answer either.

Fortunately, they no longer need the so-called answers, they are dead, dead behind the pilgrims.

Acudona saw a blur of blood, corpses - but it lasted less than half a second, after which the dead were completely obscured by a never-ending blizzard.

Does it make sense for them to resist and fight? No one could give an answer, after all, they had not saved any of the pilgrims, nor had they been able to inflict any considerable damage on the tide.

But before they died, they sent out a distress signal, and Acudona received the message.

Correction: Only Acudona received the message.

So, this is a one-man support, doesn't that sound ridiculous? The answer is yes, but he still came, and he had to come.

Eight hours had passed since the war began, and Terra's communications still showed no signs of resuming.

Acudona had already opened his communications to all channels when he set out for war, and so far only a few districts had barely managed to repair their equipment and ensure basic communications, so that he could receive the message.

He had also tried to establish basic communication with them. He succeeded a few times, and he was very lucky, but the luck was not long, and these communication connections did not last long.

They are often only able to say a few words in the midst of intense distractions and then lose contact.

Acudona was a far cry from what he had been in the past, but he hadn't left behind his tactical skills, and he still understood how bad Terra's situation really was right now - communications, information, and intelligence, which were the lifeblood of the army.

Without them, armies would be left to fight on their own, and fighting on their own would be fatal for an army.

But they can only do so now.

Walking through the black mist, the chief swordsman of the Emperor's Son ended his thoughts. There was a strange roar in his ears, very violent, as if he had discovered his arrival.

Acdonna was indifferent to this, because there was a stronger voice echoing in his ears.

The voice was a pre-death roar, with despair and hatred.

"We need support!" The voice roared. "Repeat! We need support! ”

But where are you, soldiers? Acudona thought. You didn't even tell the people who might have received the call for help where you were, where you were, where you were, all of that.

How do you expect them to come to the rescue?

He laughed, because of a strong wind full of menace and foul stench,

"It's fine." Acudona spoke softly. "At least I heard you, I'm coming."

- Yes, he didn't receive this request for help through a signal from a communication device.

Darkness struck, and in the stenking wind, a monstrous and gigantic beast opened its bloody jaws. How sudden, how swift the attack was. The wind had only just blown, and the attackers had already arrived.

The fanged mouth was so close to Acudona's skull that he could even see the structure of the creature's mouth clearly through the eyepieces.

The staggered fangs swirled in circles and grew into the flesh-colored mouth, the stumps and severed arms were scattered throughout, and where it should have been the esophagus was a distorted human face. The face was so hideous that Acudona couldn't even guess its gender.

He narrowed his eyes and took a step back unhurriedly, waving his left hand sharply.

As if there was a flash of lightning, the boning saber sliced smoothly into the beast's jaw from the bottom up, piercing through the upper jaw. Blood splattered, it roared, ignoring the pain, and began to chase after it.

Acudona retreated unhurriedly, every step so clever that he could dodge its bite, while the demon did not give up and continued to pursue, seemingly unaware of the meaning of an enemy who could dodge its attacks so easily.

Or maybe it has something else to rely on.

The pursuit lasted a total of five seconds, and after the second second, its hideous wound had healed.

The chief swordsman naturally saw this, and he smiled knowingly, and suddenly clenched his two swords, and a faint light of blood suddenly bloomed from under the armor of his arms.

The pitch-black flames began to burn above the twin blades, and the beast realized that it was chasing something. It growled in fear, and tried to turn away, but it was too late.

"There is nowhere to run." Acudona whispered to it affectionately.

Within the next three seconds, the blade slash rained down like a torrential rain.

Accudona swung his saber with joy, and a hidden, other-man thirst for revenge blossomed in his heart. He understands that he is a substitute, but how can he not have a grudge?

He laughed, and the laughter spread through the darkness, and the fire grew brighter and brighter.

By the time the sword light subsided, the demon that had been huge before had now opened its skin and flesh, and its flesh and bones were separated, and a hideous human face struggled in the steaming flesh and blood, and Acudona raised his foot to step on it.

He didn't rush to exert force, but slowly raised his hands, and the two knives crossed over his head, clashing lightly, making a cold sound.

He looked around unhurriedly, and it took a few seconds before the blade slammed down.

Blood spilled all around, causing ripples in the darkness, and countless demons roared wildly.

Of course they knew what the man in front of them was, and what he was going to be—but he wasn't, and he still had the value of being killed. Malice begins to spring up in the darkness, greed, thirst for blood, thirst for promotion.

Acdonna could sense their thoughts, and the demonic face that he could not understand in the past was no longer a wordless riddle for him, or an impossible way to start with painting.

The chief swordsman slowly twisted his neck and raised his hands again as if to invite. The demons acceded, and a bloody battle ensued.

Roaring, roaring, laughing—all of this was buried in a deep fog that no one could see from behind.

Twenty and five minutes later, Acudona limped out of the fog.

His armor was covered in scars, his helmet was half shattered, and his face was covered in blood. He walked into the snow wet, steaming hot and black blood still falling, never ending.

Acudona staggered to the ground, his blood-stained saber resting safely in its scabbard. He turned his head sideways, his hands sinking deep into the snow.

How many were killed? He asked himself, and then got a number.

Thirty-three. No, it's thirty-four, if you count the first one.

It doesn't sound like much, but it's far beyond his previous limits.

Holding up the snow, Acudona reluctantly rolled over and lay on his back, staring at the gloomy sky. His injuries are recovering quickly, and it's not for nothing.

He was clearly aware of the price he was paying, and the limit that existed in his heart like a warning—beyond which he would become a different creature.

But

He exhaled a breath of blood-smelling air and slowly stood up from the ground. Once again, the armour shattered with its movements, turning into ashes and hanging upside down into the sky, their color as dark as the clouds.

Acudona looked down at his hands, or the names, to be exact.

He deliberately did not call them out in the battle just now.

Next time. He thought.

He began to walk again, and soon his figure disappeared into the wind and snow, and no one could find any trace of his appearance, like a ghost.

And he was by no means the only one, in the land of Terra at this moment, there were six hundred and twenty-three ghosts like him wandering aimlessly, their ears haunted by the whispers of the dead

For the rest of their lives, as long as they lived, they would never have peace.

There is also a chapter in 4k.

Also, the story of the interlude is the reaction of all parties throughout the battle of Terra, and I will do my best to portray what happened to everyone and what happened. Of course, that won't delay me from getting back to the main story of Terra.

(End of chapter)