Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 168

A deafening roar ripped through the battlefield. The flames from within Leon’s body surged and multiplied, swelling into a pillar of fire that blazed several times larger than before.

The enormous burst of Icarus Wing even engulfed allies in its radius, but the effect was cunningly precise. Not only did it distinguish perfectly between friend and foe, but it also cleansed allies of poison and restored their morale, while at the same time, stripping the undead of their very immortality.

Unwittingly, Leon’s flight path carved through scores of undead, collapsing them in heaps and buying the raid team a much-needed breath of relief.

“Forward!” Varg bellowed the order with a thunderous roar.

As a Wind Aura Master, he was adept at sensing the flow of battle. Water Aura wielders had similar skills, but they tended to read narrowly and deeply rather than broadly. Very few could sense that pivotal instant when the tide of battle shifted—just as it was now.

“Warriors! Follow behind Leon the Heir! It’s time to strike down the leader of these leeches!”

It was a decision born from pure instinct. Varg didn’t even know how strong this necromancer truly was, but he had chosen the only right course of action.

The raid force was formidable, yet against the undead, a war of attrition still meant inevitable loss. Unless purged with Holy Power, the dead would rise again and again. The longer the fight dragged on, the fewer soldiers they had and the weaker they became. In the end, defeat was certain.

They had to cut off the head. Having reached that conclusion, Varg charged after Leon, and the other beastkin rekindled their fighting spirit.

Al-Razzaz, another Wind Aura Master, felt it too. Like Varg, he sensed the sudden shift in the battlefield’s momentum, saw the path opening before them, and shouted to his men.

“How long are we going to lag behind these animals!?”

Though they were no longer enemies, the rift between beastkin and Bedouin was still wide and deep.

“Follow me! Don’t you dare let them steal the glory!”

It wasn’t hatred driving his men, but rivalry. Not malice, but the fire of competition as the warriors glared ahead with blazing eyes, blades lifted high.

And, of course, at their lead was Al-Razzaz—the greatest warrior of the Great Desert, the Swordmaster famed as the Tyrant. From his blade erupted a storm that shredded hundreds of undead in its wake.

Using his mind-body, he swung a strike that split the storm itself like a bolt of lightning.

“Advance!”

The Holy Iron Inquisitors pushed their broken bodies forward, armor clattering as it dripped with dark red blood. To them, this was holy war.

The Hero and the Saintess—chosen by the Goddess herself—were fighting against a monstrous evil. How could they simply stand by? Their faith burned, their resolve sharpened, and though they lacked the mastery of an Aura Master, their spiritual fortitude was no less. Singing hymns at the top of their lungs, they cut their way through the enemy.

“The Goddess watches over us! Light against the darkness! Judgment against evil! Forward until death—no, even in death, never cease advancing!”

Their Holy Power should have long since run dry, yet their conviction replenished it, pushing them beyond their limits. Even torn and bloodied, they fought with strength beyond their peak. This was the true essence of the Holy Iron Inquisitors, the mightiest martial force the Holy Church possessed.

Wealth and glory meant nothing to them. Praise and gratitude were welcome but unnecessary. The only thing that mattered was the justice etched into their hearts and the Goddess who mercifully watched over the world.

The beastkin, the Bedouin, the Holy Iron Inquisitors—the raid force, united, surged with renewed momentum, smashing through the enemy tide like a tsunami. That such a small force—barely a few hundred, not even a thousand—could achieve this much? Even if the Clyde Empire sent several legions, it wasn’t clear they could withstand such ferocity.

“Damn, that’s terrifying,” muttered one of the adventurers as he caught his breath.

Adventurers of the Guild were people who moved solely on profit and loss.

“More than anything, that rookie—no, can you even call him a rookie anymore? You’re telling me he’s the same rank as me? An A-rank? Ridiculous.”

“I agree. If he survives this, he’ll be the youngest to ever reach S-rank.”

Leon stood out above them all, his platinum wings sweeping wide as he fought at the vanguard. He was more visible on the battlefield than even Varg or Al-Razzaz. Despite the presence of two Aura Masters, the tide of battle had seemed hopeless until Leon alone turned the entire board upside down.

“I was planning on running if it came to it, but it looks like we’ll have to keep fighting.”

“Hah! If you ran now, you’d be branded a heretic.”

“That’s exactly why it’s scarier.”

“Then let’s move. We can’t let the rookie steal the whole show.”

They didn’t burn with the same fiery zeal, but even the adventurers had their pride. Facing down a resurrected ancient king—what greater adventure could there be?

***

Unlike Leon, who was wholly focused on charging forward, El-Cid surveyed the battle and murmured to himself.

—This is nice.

The losing tide had turned. The relentless assault led by Varg and Al-Razzaz, the suicidal charges of the Holy Iron Inquisitors, the adventurers who had suddenly thrown themselves into the fray—unthinkably, all of it was sparked by one person.

Leon hadn’t planned this far. He had only pushed himself beyond his limit to defeat Nephren-Ka even one second sooner. The others, seeing him, had pushed past their limits, too.

—Back in my day, I never had anyone following behind me like this.

More accurately, no one could keep up. Companions, allies—none of it mattered. In his prime, Rodrick alone had been enough to stand against the entire world. He had never once been cornered.

—You said you’d surpass me, but...

Unheard by Leon, El-Cid admitted quietly, —...Right now, you’re more of a Hero than I ever was.

Leon couldn’t have heard the words, but he felt the surge, nonetheless. Icarus Wing burned fiercer, brighter.

A pillar of fire nearly ten meters tall erupted, incinerating the darkness that clung like tar. Like the sun blazing in the night sky, Leon’s wings flared brilliantly, casting light across the battlefield.

He wasn’t yet strong enough to drive away all of Nephren-Ka’s summoned darkness, but the light was spreading wider, little by little.

“What? Why is the power... growing?” Leon asked.

El-Cid chuckled faintly.

—Be glad. This is all you. The sun is meant to be worshiped, revered. The more people look to you, the more they draw strength from you, the stronger your sun-born power becomes. Call it a resonance effect.

Since ancient times, the sun had been the symbol of the highest god in myth and the embodiment of the power worshiped by all life. Light and warmth, the source of all things. Even before astronomy existed, people knew it instinctively that the sun was the attribute closest to divinity itself.

That was why wielders of sun power, once awakened, carried traits most akin to the gods. Among them was the ability to amplify their strength through reverence and worship.

“How dare you, how dare you, how dare you!” Nephren-Ka spewed words of anger as if he were jealous of the light that Leon embraced and exuded an ominous light himself, shaking the night sky. “How dare you claim to be the sun before me! Before me, the Pharaoh! You wretched, lowly mortal—do you think you can sit upon a divine throne!?”

“Divine throne? I don’t know much about that,” Leon replied with a crooked grin. “But I’d say I’m still better than some rotting corpse who couldn’t let go of his obsession with playing king over a pile of stinking bodies. Don’t you agree?”

“...!”

Nephren-Ka trembled, his rage so overwhelming it devoured his reason. He raised both arms high. Nekaka ruled the land, Heka ruled the people. Until now, Nephren-Ka had alternated between the two authorities, never using them at once, for he could not withstand the toll.

Now, he chose to. The hateful sun mocked him from right before his eyes. Even in life, his patience had been thin, and now, in his incomplete state, his sanity was fractured beyond repair.

With both divine relics raised high, Nephren-Ka declared his intent, “I’ll see you annihilated, no matter the cost.”

Then, he muttered a blasphemous enchantment.

“Come forth, guardian of the underworld. Twist your noble mission into vile slaughter, and cast those meant to be guided into the abyss.”

Before Leon could react, Nephren-Ka crossed Nekaka and Heka in his hands. Then, it happened in an instant.

The ground directly beneath the pyramid split apart, but it wasn’t a crevasse in the earth. If it had merely been the land tearing open, the strata or bedrock would have shown. Instead, what yawned beneath the pyramid was nothing but endless darkness.

A land where no living being could tread—Netherworld. Nephren-Ka’s authority had broken the boundary of what was possible in the logic of the living world.

A loud thump sounded.

Something was coming. Leon froze mid-flight, and the warriors who had been charging with wildfire momentum halted their steps. Even the undead held their breaths, listening to the sound of those footsteps.

This presence was different from Nephren-Ka’s own. A crushing weight poured out from the rift, heavy enough to smash shoulders to dust.

A second thump, booming, followed.

The first thing to emerge was a head.

A colossal wolf’s head, massive enough to rival a cyclops, rose slowly into view. Its skin was black as the night sky, its upper body unmistakably human, its lower body clad in archaic vestments. In its hand gleamed a spear, crescent ornament dangling from the haft. At last, the wolf-headed giant stepped fully onto the earth with one final thump.

With the giant revealed before him, Nephren-Ka’s voice dropped to a low, commanding growl.

“Slay the sun, Anubis.”

At the Black Pharaoh’s command, the wolf-headed giant leveled its spear.

Though its body stood twelve, thirteen meters tall, its movements were swift and fluid, unbound by bulk like a titan. For the first time, cold sweat beaded Leon’s brow.

This is dangerous...! What is that thing!?

His ignorance was no fault of his own.

Anubis, once called Anapa in old tongues, was the deity of death who guided souls onto their rightful path in the afterlife. By nature, he belonged to death, but to the domains of good and justice as well. Yet after being corrupted by Nephren-Ka, he had become nothing more than a god of calamity, casting souls into the abyss.

I’ll die if I move a muscle.

Even with the spear merely aimed his way, Leon couldn’t move. No matter how he tried to fly, no matter which way he turned, he would be pierced.

His instincts screamed it at him with prophetic certainty. The giant before him was a spear master who could overwhelm even a Swordmaster, a being that outstripped him entirely in the realm of martial skill.

In some ways, this monster was more troublesome than Nephren-Ka himself.

If I stall too long, the tide we’ve just reversed will turn against us again...

But no matter how he racked his brain, there was no answer. Even fallen, even degraded into a dark god, the martial prowess of Anubis, the reaper of the dead, remained unchanged. Subduing Leon would be effortless. One-on-one, there was no hope of victory.

In that moment, Elahan, who had been following ten seconds behind, finally caught up to Leon.

“Hero Leon!”

Anubis’s gaze shifted. It was inevitable. Neither Leon nor Elahan alone could match him, but ignoring one of them would be folly. If he still had full reason as a warrior, he would have kept Leon locked down while watching Elahan at the same time, but with only instinct left in him, Anubis made the first inevitable mistake.

I’ve got to move now!

Now, my Hero!

Reading that perfect opening, Leon and Elahan struck from two different angles. Anubis reacted a half-beat too slow.

His spear lanced like thunder, splitting the air with two piercing booms and rending empty space itself. Aura or not, it hardly mattered. His very flesh was divine, his power innate; Anubis could bring mountains to ruin with a thrust. In this age, perhaps only the Giant King Kasim could stand against him one-on-one.

Leon twisted away at supersonic speed, slipping outside the giant’s reach. He flew straight toward Nephren-Ka—or at least, he tried to.

But he didn’t make it.

The spear of Anubis, thrust into the void, carved a chilling crack through the air, intercepting Leon’s path. Even Elahan’s assault couldn’t hold him back. If Leon tried to circle around, Anubis would sacrifice himself without hesitation to bring Leon down.

Am I going to have to kill that monster somehow?

Even two against one, the odds were slim—and Nephren-Ka would hardly sit idle in the meantime. There was a reason he had overextended himself to summon this creature. He wanted to secure victory.

He had judged that even the cost was worth it. For a necromancer, the frontlines were inevitably fragile. Anubis was the perfect counterbalance to that weakness.

Then—

“Just looking at him makes my skin crawl. That’s a terrifying one,” muttered a voice.

Varg had appeared at Leon’s side, grinning fiercely.

“What’s this? Don’t tell me you’re scared, wolf.”

Al-Razzaz arrived a beat later, scoffing. But his voice carried a tension unlike his usual bravado, betraying just how fearsome Anubis was.

Two Aura Masters, Leon, who had only one foot on that very threshold, Elahan, and even Karen, waiting in the shadows, and the odds were still uncertain. Worse, Anubis wasn’t even at his full strength.

Even so, Leon didn’t hesitate.

“Let’s go.”

If he stopped, people would die. People who had trusted him to come this far.

Adversity was meant to be broken through. Obstacles were meant to be overcome.

If he gave everything he had and still failed, he could accept that—but he would never allow his own negligence to cause another’s death.

Light gathered at the blade of the Holy Sword, swelling severalfold, surging dozens of meters upward before condensing into a radiant edge for a burst of Grand Chariot.

Now he could use it. With the sun embodied within him, with his output raised high enough to shoulder even the strain on his body.

He couldn’t raise his martial skill in such a short time, but sheer power—he could force more of that.

“Chained Secret Technique: Three Stars in Heaven’s Jar.”

Leon swung three times in succession, his body whirling forward like an arrow loosed from the bowstring.

Even Nephren-Ka, who was struck unguarded, wasn’t fatally wounded. And if it didn’t work on the necromancer who wasn’t even a warrior, it would hardly work on Anubis.

That was why Leon—

“Three Stars in Heaven’s Jar: Double Strike.”

—Unleashed the technique once more. Three Stars in Heaven’s Jar, a move powerful enough to wipe out an army with a single use, roared forth again.