When it all started again, when the river of blood soaked him again, Azek Ahriman was able to put the thought of 'I am superfluous' behind him.

He heard a roar.

They make this sound every time they arrive, and then, the stench of the air being ignited.

Ahriman knew that if he still had eyes, he would probably see the true appearance of the lifeless. They burst out of the chaos, tendons and bones entwined with each other, and their bodies slowly took shape in endless blood

They come in all shapes and sizes, and it doesn't matter, they just need to be strong enough to hold a blade or axe, or they are simply replaced by fangs and claws, they are here to kill, and there is not much difference between weapons and minions.

Barbarism is barbarism.

And every now and then, Ahriman would hear the roar of thunder.

"Victory after death!" He roared.

Ahriman breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he had won again.

At the end of one of the battles, Björn made a bet with him. Every time there is a war, the thunder shouts a lot of slogans. Of course, he most often shouted the phrase for unity, but sometimes it was also for the sake of reunification. He doesn't shout much about the Emperor, but he does often call for Terra.

No one asked why, no one cared, they all knew which side the Thunder was on. However, Bjorn is a member of the wolf pack after all, and the Fenris seem to be like this, always possessing a natural and terrifying optimism.

He came up with this particular pastime, and as a result, he lost four times in a row, and Ahriman seemed lucky to pick the correct answer every time.

"You lucky bastard!" Bjorn yelled not far from him.

Of course, he wasn't really jealous, but he needed to shout it out to get a little bit of a sense of being alive.

Saul Tavitz let out a gentle sneer behind them, and Sigismund continued to slash calmly. Thunder didn't care, his roar was fading away with the sound of his footsteps, and it was clear that he was rushing into the crowd again.

Ahriman noticed all this, and he didn't say anything about Bjorn's words, except to smile softly.

Who's to say it isn't? He's a lucky bastard indeed.

The blind man took a deep breath, lowered his head, bent his waist, and already held a book in his hands.

Compared to the other four who are still fighting, he has his own things to do.

He limped and began to walk, the pain in his ankle was no longer so intense, and his bones seemed to have received a kind of acquired regrowth in such predicament and torment. In contrast, the disability began to slowly reduce his punishment.

It's incredible, and Ahriman doesn't know why, and he doesn't have time to care.

However, the book in his hand suddenly became hot and began to burn his palms and fingers. Flesh and blood hissed, but his face was calm, and even there was comfort in his heart.

He welcomes them and always welcomes, every time

Ahriman calmly turned the page and limped through the bloody battlefield.

It was a miracle that the demons turned a blind eye to him. The reason may be due to the crimson blood that stained him red, from the ground, from the boundless river of blood that was forever hot as lava.

The blood of the war dead and demons had transformed the Scarlet King's sin sin descendant into a bloody man, his robes had been reduced to instruments of torture that clung to his skin, burning his internal organs through the flesh.

This pain is similar to the burning of a book in your hand, but it is very different. Still, at the end of the day, it's bearable, and the pain is nothing compared to burying the original and the legion with your own hands.

Moreover, it can bring positive benefits to Ahriman.

He continued to limp as the other three followed, beginning with a strange tacit understanding, always keeping a distance from him.

Flesh was crushed to mud under the steel boots, and the roar of thunder still resounded in the darkness, but Ahriman kept his composure, flipping through the books he couldn't read.

He walked and walked until he almost had the illusion that he felt like he had died many times.

The demons can't see him, but the sword has no eyes, and the brass bulls among them will not show mercy. He was hacked and trampled, and melted by the boiling river of blood. But, somehow, 'he' still exists.

Ahriman didn't understand why 'he' existed at this moment, and if he had been in the past, his terrible curiosity might have prompted him to leave everything behind and start researching, but not now.

Today's blind people only want to do one thing.

"Found it!" He stopped somewhere and roared hoarsely.

His hands were unconscious, but the weight of the book was there. It was a shadow, a responsibility, weighing heavily on his heart. So, Ahriman knew, and he found it.

Once again, he found the crack that the demons had jumped out of.

Then four other roars rang out at once.

"Sigismund!" Saul Tavitz roared. "Go to the rescue!"

"Yes." Fist of the Empire said.

He said yes, but the reality was that he had already started moving in the direction of Ahriman a few seconds earlier.

The cracks between the chains that bound his sword to his wrist were full of shredded flesh, as was his bright yellow armor. Every place that could be cherished by flesh was covered with splinters, dyeing his armor almost red. His helmet was missing again, but there were no scars on his face.

"Björn, flanks!" The Emperor's Son roared again.

Ahriman could almost imagine what he was like at the moment, and Tavitz was still struggling to make his way through the tide in that wood-chopping fashion. He listened intently, hearing a wolf howl, followed by a wild laugh.

"For Ruth!" The lone wolf laughed and shouted.

The axes and blades in his hands were long gone, so each slash required more effort, but he still insisted on attracting the attention of the demons on the flanks, and no one could make him change his mind.

Ahriman didn't understand how long they had been here to make the so-called 'wear and tear' of these two powered weapons as well.

"Thunder!" Tavits called again. "Do what you should-"

He didn't finish, and it came to an abrupt end. Ahriman was not anxious, just waited for a while. Seconds later, he heard Saul Tavitz let out a long sigh, as if returning from the land of the dead.

It's a strange thing, they are hundreds of meters away from each other, but they can hear each other's voices accurately.

"-Do what?" Thunder asked with a smile.

His voice was far away, and it was literally accompanied by lightning and thunder. Every time he spoke, lightning thundered down, forcing the ground to shake. Ahriman wished he still had eyes, and he wanted to see the pitch-black lightning described by Björn.

The emperor's son did not answer, but simply returned to the battle. He didn't need to say anything, because his task as a commander was already done.

And at this moment, Sigismund had also rushed in front of Ahriman. There would be no mistake, the kind of storm of blades that accompanied the sound of the waves of the Blood River was something that only he could do.

No longer waiting, Ahriman picked up the ancient book in his hand, and at the same time drew the rusted blade that was the spine of the book and plunged it into the raging river of blood.

He knelt down to complete this, and at this moment, the blood river had already risen due to the killing. In this gesture, it almost drowned his neck.

Temperatures more terrifying than lava began to make Ahriman grit his teeth, but his right hand still held the rusty blade. Sigismund stood behind him, and amid the roar of the demons, the Imperial Fist quietly spat out a word that was not muffled by any sound.

"Do what you have to do, and I'll kill them all."

I know. The blind man smiled. I've heard it many times, Sigismund.

The river of blood began to roar, churning like a whirlpool. The severed arm turned into a terrifying blade, slicing through the flesh of Ahriman, but he could always sense the presence of his right hand.

There is no reason for him to exist. Not to atone for sins or to prove yourself. He exists, that's all.

The rusty blade began to tremble in his hand, and in the deepest part of the river of blood, an unstable subspace rift began to close. Ahriman didn't use psionic powers, but he could sense it clearly.

In fact, he could perceive much more than that. He could also hear the greedy breath of the living from behind the thin door, and the faint, gentle scraping of feathers. He knew He was still watching him.

Let's see. Ahriman thought. I am no longer your door, I am blind.

He tightened his grip on the blade and jerked it out. He couldn't see what his body was like at the moment, and he didn't need to know about it.

The roar of the river of blood suddenly ceased, and then, the whispers of the unjust souls.

Ahriman bowed down and respectfully thrust the blade back into his hand.

It was still the same, not a page had fallen, and the surface was silent and cold, as if it had never been hot. It was eerily quiet, the roars of the demons and the horrible snorts were gone, except for the whirring wind, as if it had come from somewhere of nothingness.

A hand pulled him up.

"We won." Sigismund said that Ahriman heard him plunge his sword into the ground. "How many times is this?"

"I don't know." Ahriman coughed in reply, his nostrils now filled with the smell of blood.

"Does the number of times make sense?" Saul Tavitz asked not far away.

"The number doesn't matter, but we won." Björn answered. "That's the meaning, maybe we never really killed them, maybe we're going to die here. But until then, the torch will be bright. ”

When he finished speaking, they all fell silent, as if waiting for someone who had not yet spoken. It's a tacit understanding that has been cultivated over a long period of time, but that person is not following this law at the moment.

Ahriman suddenly felt his two hearts stop, and a terrible guess rose in his mind, forcing him to jerk his hand up and grab Sigismund's hand.

The Imperial Fist was silent for a moment and asked, "Thunder?" ”

It took a few seconds for them to get an answer.

"I think I heard the sound of bombing." Thunder said.

He stood far away, his voice almost like an echo from somewhere, a voice with confusion that had never happened before.

They couldn't help but look at each other.

Update is over, it's too late, sleep (slip away)

(End of chapter)