Saul Tavitz swings his sword.

The muscles in his arms had become stiff and could not recover, and there was no time to recover. This had a great impact on his fighting skills.

In the past, he could point the tip of his sword in any direction he wanted, spinning, cutting, stabbing, and slashing at will. And now, he was like a clumsy lumberjack, and he swung his sword as if he were chopping wood.

If you don't believe me, look at what he looks like now. The muscles stiffened, the wrists tightened, and the fingers tightly bound the weapon, turning it into a kind of prison.

Bones, flesh, and metal – one, two, three, four, five.

Five fingers.

They were firmly attached to the hilt of the sword, and it became an acquired method of captivity, imprisoning the sword in his hand.

Only beginners make such mistakes.

Beginners like to hold their swords with all their might, regardless of what it will bring. They do their best every time they swing their swords, regardless of whether they need to turn around or not, they like to open and close their swordsmanship, they focus on offense rather than defense, and they value power over the rotation of their feet.

It's like Saul Tavitz now.

And he is not a beginner. He's been in battle for a long time, and now he's so clumsy. Shame welled up in his heart, and he could do nothing but continue to sweat profusely and swing his sword.

His hair was wet with blood and sweat again and again, and he was covered in bruises. It's good that he's still fighting.

He took down a humanoid demon, which he clumsily chopped like a chopping wood, and then used his leg to spin his waist, and the power sword spun in a circle.

The blue arc leaped tenaciously across the sword, and an object that tried to sneak up on him from behind was cut in half, and Tavitz fell to the ground. He lost his balance, and he fell face down in a filthy sea of blood.

For a brief moment, he was reluctant to get up again. But he finally stood up again, his whole face covered in blood, as did his armor.

The purple-gold paint was no longer visible, and blood was everywhere, everything that was dry, fresh, and half-dried looked blood-red.

He stumbled a few steps through the sea of blood, looking around, but he didn't see anything that could be called a 'front'.

Things are no longer what they used to be.

A few hours earlier, they had been able to organize an offensive, a front, a counterthrust, and even dig trenches and set traps. And now they are just a bunch of beasts, essentially no different from them.

Maybe there are.

Once again, the Emperor's Son—he didn't know if it was the last—raised his sword.

Something smashed through the darkness and rushed in front of him. No, maybe you can't use the word rush, you should use roll. It rolled over a number of corpses in a staggered manner, and finally came to a halt not far from Tavitz.

He stared at it, and it took him a moment before he realized he shouldn't have called it. He lowered his hand, and the movement brought another numbing pain. He ran over and pulled the man up.

"Thunder." He said.

"Hmm." The scarlet-dyed man nodded. "Hello, Tavitz."

"Are you crazy?"

"Not yet."

A cold white patch of blood opened in the blood, and Thunder grinned, his teeth were still white, and a little too white - Tavitz saw him licking his teeth, maybe that's why the blood didn't stain them.

"Me too." Tavitz said.

He lied.

"Oh, don't do that, boy."

Thunder hugged him affectionately, a few hours ago they had only been slightly familiar with each other, but now they were a lifelong friendship.

"Don't you know what you're hiding? Take a deep breath, it's nothing at all. Fuck, they want to kill us all so we can run into the torch to shit and pee, but we're going to drown them all in their own shit and urine before then. ”

Crude amazing. Tavitz thought. Maybe that's his character?

"No, it's not." Thunder said. "It's just that I think it's a good time to make a big deal and curse loudly."

"That's true." Tavitz said. "Fuck."

Thunder let go of his hand, bent down, and began rummaging through the pile of corpses. His sword was miraculously dragged out by him, and the severed arm was swriggled and fell, and his greatsword was born out of it.

Thunder laughed again and roared into a misty darkness.

"Sigismund!"

There was a roar in the darkness.

Thunder roared as well, and he rushed in with his sword in hand, Tavitz following closely behind, just keeping his mouth shut and not saying a word.

He was so tired that he felt like he was actually dead? He was taken aback by the idea.

I can't die yet. He told himself. At least not now, now I have to live.

They rushed into the darkness and saw the Fist of the Empire in its bloody battle for the first time—perhaps not the word "bloody battle" to describe him, for he looked like a monster born of blood.

He chopped one demon and then turned his wrist without distraction, still nimbly killing the other. Tavitz felt a pang of envy: Why wasn't he as tired as I was?

This envy dissipated when he saw Sigismund's eyes.

"Sigismund!" Thunder shouted again.

Wild, wild, a group of demons saw him like this. Something rushed straight down from the sky, and the thunder didn't look at it. He just swung his sword casually and slashed them all like that.

The ground swelled, and a group of long snake-like things snaked and straightened up, about to bite Thunder's throat before he could withdraw his sword. Tavitz saw this, so he took the lead and killed them again by chopping wood.

Thunder began to laugh, mocking.

The Emperor's Son roared at him, "Don't laugh! ”

Sigismund was still roaring in the distance.

"I'm sorry, my bad." Thunder said as he began to run.

He ran to the demons, just as the demons ran to him.

Thunder is a good fighter, in fact, he is perhaps the best 'fighter' Tavitz has ever seen, pure warrior with no other impurities. He is the embodiment of pure rage and fighting prowess, with an enviable focus.

Once the battle began, he was left with only one thought, which was to disembowel his enemies and decapitate them. Tavitz would not admit that he was inspired by that attitude, and he would never say it.

"Rush, Thunder!" He shouted.

"Shut up!" Thunder said.

They began to engage the enemy.

The first demon to die was a fat green thing, and Tavitz didn't have time or interest in naming them, but he did notice that they had color.

It's a weird joke, but the ghosts that come out of the subspace have colors on their bodies, could it be that they can see what they look like in the dark?

But, in short, it's dead. Thunder decapitated it.

The second dead demon was a thing with a rat's head on top and twelve eyes. It was indeed not much different from a mouse, hunched over its waist and trying to sneak up on it from behind.

Tavitz chopped it up, he wished there was a stove now so he could actually throw the firewood in it.

They rushed all the way, killed all the way, and finally succeeded in reaching Sigismund's eyes. The Imperial Fist had already done his killing, Thunder and Tavitz attracted the attention of many demons, and Sigismund was given a respite and more energy.

He'd done what he had done seventeen seconds before they arrived, and was now gasping for breath with his sword.

"You're done." Thunder grumbled.

Sigismund didn't speak.

"But we won." Tavitz said. "At least this time."

"The front is broken, we need to gather our troops." Sigismund said.

He was calmly detached, like them, in waist-deep pools of blood, surrounded by corpses, yet calmly giving advice and judgment.

"We must unite all living forces, even a servant." He continued. "So that when we charge, he can fire from behind."

"And then?" Thunder asked.

"Then, he can kill at least one demon."

Sigismund drew his sword, from the blood and the corpse.

Then he can prove that he has lived up to the emperor, to all these victims. He will be recognized, even if it is a servant. I've read the myths and legends of ancient Terra, and it is said that there is a place for the souls of warriors called Valhalla. I want him to be recognized and become one of the Heroes. ”

Tavitz stared at him for a dozen seconds, and then he realized that Sigismund had gone crazy too.

Calmness was just a façade, Sigismund was crazy, like thunder, like him - they were all crazy.

That's why they can stand in waist-deep pools of blood against the cruel reality that the war is lost, no one is available, the next wave of demons is coming soon, and the sense of oppression in the air can prove it. And there are only three of them, and the Torch will be tainted.

Worthy of the mission. Tavitz thought.

He felt the urge to shed tears. Finally.

"I think the servants who have survived so far have killed more than one demon, Sigismund." Thunder retorted calmly. "So they've long been heroes, or, in your words, one of the Heroic Spirits."

The Imperial Fist glanced at him.

"There are no more soldiers available, are they?" He asked.

"Yes." Thunder said. "All dead, I saw it with my own eyes. There's something as tall as a Titan—"

He turned, as if to find evidence for his words, a corpse as tall as the Titan. He didn't have to look for it, Tavits could see it, and lay not far behind them.

Sigismund stopped him.

"—I see it." He said. "It broke through the line, you killed it, but you were also knocked out by him. That blow shouldn't get you back on your feet, Thunder. ”

"But I stood up." Thunder said. "Just like Saul Tavitz, he was the first of us to stand up."

"I'm a fucking woodcutter." The Emperor's Son suddenly spat out a curse.

They looked at each other for this statement.

Thunder laughed, Sigismund curled his mouth slightly, but Tavitz remained unmoved.

In fact, he was angry now, he clenched his sword tightly and said, "Now, there are only three of us left. ”

"That's really sad news." Thunder said, with a strange smile on his face. "It's unfortunate for them, we still have three of us."

"It doesn't matter." Sigismund nodded calmly at him, lowered his head, and began to tighten the chains around his wrists.

"We've done everything we can, we may not be able to hold this place, but at least we can die here. The dead have been resurrected more than once, haven't they, Saul Tavitz? We can do it all over again after we die, as Thunder said-"

He lifted his head, turned off his stance, and touched his forehead with the blade of his sword.

"—Victory after death."

"No, no, let's say that." Thunder suddenly changed his tone and softly began to correct Sigismund. "For the sake of reunification, use this sentence as our last battle cry."

"What does it mean?" Tavitz asked. "I've always wanted to ask you, Thunder. What does this slogan mean? ”

"It's not a slogan, it's a belief." Thunder said. "The first to shout it out is your emperor, for the sake of unity. It was he who led us up from the dust and shouted these words when the barbaric warlords were fighting on their own. ”

"What's your name, your emperor?" Fist of the Empire asked.

"He's my sovereign, but he's not an emperor then, at least not the way he is now." Thunder said with a smile. "That's all I have to say, I hear a voice, do you hear me?"

They nodded.

Of course they can hear it.

The rattling sound echoed in their ears from the very beginning, like the second, minute and hour hands on a clock moving together at the same moment.

This should not be the case, the second hand should be moved sixty times, so that the minute hand can be moved once. The minutes move again sixty times before the hour hand can be moved once.

From ancient times to the present day, this is how time runs in Terra. A minute is sixty seconds, and a natural hour is sixty minutes. And now, it's changing.

A second can be a minute, an hour can become an infinite number of seconds—time is passing in a frenzy, restless, clicking.

Their hearts beat in unison, the frequency of their beats changing without warning, and in the infinite confusion of time, they looked into each other's eyes, and the same thunder rang in their ears.

Then the darkness receded, the fog cleared, and the top of the Hall of the Torch of the Desperate Fortress began to melt. Sturdy metals and materials are not allowed to continue to exist, and the birth of a god should be witnessed by all.

If anyone could look at all of Terra at this moment, they would see that the dark clouds in the sky were burning, and the fighting on the ground had ceased.

The demon dissipated in the blood light, and was dragged back into the chaos by the dead who suddenly appeared from the shadows, but the living stared at the scarlet crown that appeared in the sky for no apparent reason, as if inspired by some kind of inspiration.

And that's not the end, it's just the beginning.

"I think it's now." Saul Tavits said.

"Now, which now?" Sigismund asked. He made a rare joke.

"For unity!" Thunder roared.

Above them, a battleship pressed out a black cloud.

——

Ferus Manus looked up from a pool of blood, and the corpses of a mountain collapsed behind him.

He killed it, but he didn't care anymore. It wasn't the first time he had fought the so-called Behemoth, and he had won every time.

The demon was immensely powerful, and its size was incomprehensibly large. But it's just a tool, it doesn't have any sense of self, maybe it thinks it has, but that's just a lie.

It exists to kill humans and offer sacrifices to please the ugly gods. For this reason, it has thick bones, strong tendons, and a thunderous heartbeat. And that's part of the lie – and Ferus Manus debunks it.

He killed it, as well as all the other demons.

One of his company commanders stood beside him, and Gabriel Santo's face was blurred. He already had a terrifying face, and now it has become even worse. It's like something out of a folk ghost story. But he's not, he's the one who kills those things.

"Primordial." Gabriel Santo said. "We still haven't been able to get in touch with Master Foggrim."

"I know."

"I mean, we called him, got in touch with his communicator, but he wouldn't respond to us."

"I'm afraid it's not that I don't want to, but I can't. So," Ferrus asked, turning his head. "Is he fighting?"

"Yes, the original." Gabriel Santo nodded. "He's fighting to the death."

Ferus Manus smiled coldly.

"Well, that's enough. He lived up to the armor I got him, and that was enough. ”

"I remember, you've been making that armor for a long time."

"It's found, Gabriel. Don't contradict me at this time. ”

"I'm afraid I won't have a chance in the future." Gabriel Santo shrugged. "After all—"

Ferus shook his head, interrupting him in the looming shadows.

"—I know."

He did know, because the great shadow had fallen. A huge battleship, emitting black smoke, fell from the sky, but it looked like a demon rushing out of hell. It was on fire, and the steel and the flames produced a wonderful fusion reaction.

Ferus Manus looked up at the ship, and with the extraordinary vision of the original body, he could see everything clearly.

For example, the eerie bow portrait, such as the eight-pointed star mark on the hull, and for example, those dense inscriptions all over the hull. Every word seems to be carved by a knife blade.

Revenge.

The ship is the Spirit of Vengeance, and it's now ramming headlong into Terra. Its hull caught fire from friction, and it obscured the sky and the sun so that all could see it. Its bow resembles an eerie black-robed ghost with a scarlet crown on his head.

At the fifth minute of the twenty-fifth hour, the Spirit of Vengeance fell on Terra.

It became part of Terra.

Something that thought he was Horus Lupecar laughed out loud in his royal court.

The Emperor raised his hand.

"Kill it." He commanded, pleaded, roared in pain, blood spilling down his throat. "Kill it, kill it."

The god bowed his head indifferently.

(End of chapter)