Chapter 62

As cherry blossoms danced in the wind, Misaki opened the old diary and read the words of promise written there.

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The inn town that supported the trade route at Cape Raga is now nothing more than a mark on the map. Not a single house remains along the road. What is left is a pile of rubble, like a ridge, and countless corpses. Many of the bodies, ravaged by repeated battles, are unrecognizable from their former selves. Still, it was enough for Worm. The accursed evil eye sees all too clearly what it does not wish to see.

The arrival of the Great Rampage, the attack of the Flame Emperor Dragon, the loss of the command center. In such a desperate situation, Worm and his comrades fought to the death in the ancient castle, not for any gain or strategy, but for one thing and one thing only. Without proper rest, they maintained a distorted battle formation, risking their lives, and shared meager meals with their subordinates. How could he forget them? No matter how much they had changed, he would never mistake them. Worm, trying to hide his surging emotions, gave the order to the remaining soldiers in a flat voice.

"Everyone, retreat."

Blood flowed like a turbid stream, not cooling but pooling in his abdomen. The suppression was nearing its critical point. The Flueg squadron had been reduced to a mere platoon. To face the battlefield in perfect condition was nothing more than a bad dream, a fairy tale. Still, those who had fought the Great Rampage together and wished for the reconstruction of their homeland were forced to be used up here. They must have had terrible faces, faces that could not be shown. Worm, at this moment, was grateful to the mask that covered his face.

"Don't use it, kill them!"

A chilling aura of killing intent, countless blades about to converge on him. There was no need for elaborate excuses or worries. He just needed to let it all out. The heat that nested within him, the silent wailing, he transformed into blue flames and, driven by his emotions, spat out the *Ghost Fire*. The heat wind swirled around his body, and the mask laughed loudly, as if tickled.

The countless arms that had been extended were burned away by the blue flames, one after another, emitting death cries and lighting up like human-shaped lights. The well-organized formation was nowhere to be seen, the soldiers entangled with each other like ropes. A single Creist soldier, writhing in the blue flames, cut through the path. Whether he was trying to grab onto something or reach out for help, Worm did not even glance at him as he cut him down. He walked with large strides, repeatedly slashing as if swatting away weeds. Over and over. Over and over.

"Huff, huff, phew... ugh"

The obstructive wall was burned away. Countless bodies lay at his feet. There was no sense of accomplishment, only a sticky, tar-like resentment that smoldered. His breathing was disordered, as if he were drowning, and he realized he was breathing heavily through his shoulders. It was not just fatigue; the mental wear and tear had affected his body. The *Ghost Fire* driven by emotion had indeed inflicted heavy damage on the enemy. But that was all. The distinctive, pungent smell that only those who had burned people could recognize permeated his nostrils. The unnecessary increase in firepower had burned away the skin and muscles, charring the internal organs. The bodies, starting to carbonize, crumbled away in the heat wind.

"Huh, hah... ironic, isn't it? To regain composure from the smell of death."

The rationality that had been overwhelmed by passion suddenly began to think sharply. Burning a mere hundred or so people would not change the course of the battle. Like a child's tantrum, was he just lashing out at everything in sight? No, his military rationality rang a painful warning. He should have burned the nearby enemies and left the rest half-alive. Injured soldiers would demoralize and become a burden on the logistics, which Worm had learned from experience. The main target was not the enemy's vanguard but the assembly point and the crossing point.

The corpse of Flueg, the commander who had led the squadron, came into view. The burning former subordinates said nothing. The anger and hatred that scorched his body still remained. Losing control and shedding tears was what humans did. But Worm had coldly accepted the current situation. Experience dulled emotions, whether joy or sorrow. Had he even become accustomed to losing? In the distance, the swords of fallen comrades, which he could not reach, swayed in the heat wind.

"At least, I'll carry on from here."

As a result of continuous battles and mobility, he no longer had the magic or stamina to deal a wide-area blow. The wasteful use of magic was a mistake, but it was not all bad. A sanctuary created by the *Ghost Fire* now existed in the battlefield centered on the inn town. He would not be bothered by low-value targets. He would focus on high-value targets.

"There, it is."

The sword pointed to the direction his target was heading. Worm followed it without hesitation. He thrust out his halberd and glared at the target through the mask. The boy, who had lost his innocence and was in the process of growing from a youth to a young man, was tightly gripping his sword and surrounded by knights.

"Ugh, Efsay! These common soldiers are no match. Even the magic users are being burned!"

"Lord Yuto, you should step back."

"Are you telling me to abandon my comrades and run?"

"There are no comrades left to save. They have all been burned."

The knights, despite being scorched by the blue flames, remained calm. Unlike replaceable infantry, magic soldiers were valuable. It made sense to preserve them, especially when their firepower was tactical. But Worm had no intention of letting high-value targets escape.

"What, are you going to run again?"

There was no time to choose between purity and filth. Worm spoke lightly. These were not words to be directed at a fellow countryman. They were curses and insults that only those who had been in the treatment field in Sarajevo could understand.

"You bastard!!"

The young man's passionate voice echoed. A cheap provocation, but it was enough for Worm. The blue flames rippled, and his body, accelerated without warning, slid across the ground. The acceleration by the heat wind produced a speed that ignored the human body's structure. First, he targeted the leftmost piece, the rook.

"Renate, he's coming!!"

"What, what!?"

Caught off guard, the two guards raised their swords. It was a thrust aimed at the throat, but the knight called Renate deflected it with the flat of his sword. Not only that, he used the counterforce from the clash to wrap his sword around and attempt a counterattack. Truly, a skilled Rehazen knight. However, it was rash and hasty to parry the halberd of an imperial knight, especially a halberd. Worm twisted his wrist slightly. The handle, now at a 45-degree angle, thrust the side blade forward. The sound of metal scraping was followed by a dull thud.

"Ugh, ugh, ugh!"

Like water gushing from a clogged drain, a strange sound echoed. It was the fresh blood gushing from Renate's neck. The side blade had scraped off the surface of the chest plate and torn through the carotid artery and nerves. Before he could re-deploy his magic shield, his consciousness blacked out completely.

Worm's gaze slid from the effectively dead Renate to the remaining enemy. He intended to target the second one immediately, but the remaining Rehazen knight and Yuto acted quickly.

"Damn you!!"

Instead of pursuing from behind, two swords were swung down from either side. If he continued, he would be entangled. However, a half-hearted evasion would be predictable. The imperial knight, without slowing down, lowered his center of gravity and pulled the halberd's handle. The side blade dug into the shoulder plate of the collapsing Renate, pulling the dying knight closer.

The unexpected collision of a fellow countryman caused Yuto's strike to miss. The remaining knight's attack was imminent. Worm, entrusting himself to inertia and gravity, slid through the ground. The sword tip grazed his neck, and the mask jolted as if on a ride. He did not block it with the mask, not to show off but to avoid the shock.

"Efsay, behind you!"

Worm, who had slipped between the two, received Yuto's warning. Efsay, the remaining Rehazen knight, turned around and, with a roar, raised his sword in an upper stance. The lack of time was the same for the enemy. It seemed he had no intention of letting the imperial knight rise again.

"Huff, huff, huff!"

He folded his extended leg, dug his shoe into the ground, and struck the ground with the pommel of the halberd. The insufficient momentum was supplemented by the heat wind, and Worm leaped up. Efsay's face twisted in surprise. In sync with the downward strike, he thrust his blade upward. A dull metallic sound echoed. After a moment of resistance, the magic-infused halberd head deflected the sword and the halberd dug into the waist plate protecting the lower abdomen.

"Ugh, ugh, ugh!"

Blood spurted from the crack in the armor. The blow had reached the internal organs but not the spine. As he tried to pull it out, something strange happened. He could not move forward or backward. Efsay, with a smug smile, hugged the halberd lovingly. Without hesitation, Worm released the handle, and the knight's sword pierced his afterimage.

"You can't take it to the underworld."

He paid the highest compliment to the enemy who had sealed one of his main weapons. The imperial knight took a step or two to adjust his distance and drew his longsword from his waist. He then faced one of the three heroes of Creist.

"You're the last. There's no one to carry you like before. Will you surrender?"

Yuto, with powerful magic, had the disadvantage of being slow as a magic soldier. If it were Makoto, who could control the four elements, he could have used wind or water magic to escape. His magic was almost depleted, and the blue flame barrier was flickering. He had to finish it before the remaining fire went out. The imperial knight, aiming to unsettle him, chose light-hearted words, to which the young man responded with raw emotion.

"Don't underestimate me!! I'm not the same as before!"

Despite the youthful declaration, his magic power was rapidly rising. The characteristic prelude could not be forgotten. The scene in the mine flashed back. If he used *Holy Strike* at this close range, the user would not survive either. Another suicide. Why was the young countryman in such a hurry to die? The imperial knight, who had braced himself, was taken by surprise. The light did not emit but rapidly converged. Yuto had imbued the *Holy Strike* into his sword, similar to the technique of embedding *Ghost Fire* into a blade.

"…Is that so?"

Only children and the mask rejoiced at the new glowing toy. Worm responded to the approaching light sword with a flame sword. The two light sources scattered sparks and clashed, each trying to consume the other.