by Michael Sisa
“What did you say, you damn brat—”
“—The Seven Gates of Mana. How many have you opened by now?”
General Urkawi momentarily froze. This human was definitely talking about the technique he was currently using. But even within the Third Legion, only Phantomim knew the principle behind it. And within the Third Legion, only General Urkawi was capable of utilizing it.
How did this human find out?
“There’s no reason for me to tell you that,” said General Urkawi. “You’re going to die soon, anyway.”
Lark looked at the General in the eyes. “You’ll soon open all seven of them. You’ll have no choice but to do that.”
What was this human blabbering about? Did he forget how badly he was beaten up with just a single strike?
Smirking, General Urkawi clenched his fists. He decided to send this human flying again with a single punch.
As he was immersed in this thought, flames suddenly sprouted from the ground and enclosed them. It blocked the sky, the ground – everything. Only General Urkawi and the human remained.
General Urkawi realized that the flames weren’t hot. He frowned at the human. “Cheap tricks like this won’t work against me.”
“Is that so?” Lark casually gripped the hilt of his sword. “Gorilla, do you know the weakness of the Seven Gates?”
Lark’s figure blurred and he disappeared from sight. Behind General Urkawi, the flames roared and Lark’s figure emerged from it, his sword pointed towards the General’s neck.
General Urkawi easily deflected the attack using the back of his hand. The mana covering his entire body made him impervious of normal attacks.
Lark disappeared again and reappeared to his left. His attack was once again deflected by the hands of the General.
“Useless,” spat General Urkawi. “Give it up. It’s impossible to harm this immortal body.”
As long as he was using the Seven Gates, it would be impossible to kill him. His body would continually suck in the mana from the surroundings and replenish his stores. In a sense, he was immortal as long as he was under this spell.
Still, the human continued with his barrage of attacks. He quickly disappeared and reappeared, then struck General Urkawi with all his might.
General Urkawi frowned. He noticed that something was wrong. For some reason, the amount of mana he could suck from the environment was decreasing bit by bit.
“Finally noticed it, huh?” The voice of the human echoed inside the barrier of flames.
Another attack shot towards General Urkawi, but he again deflected it with his hands.
“What did you do?” said the General.
There was no reply. Lark simply continued with his unending barrage of attacks.
Lark actually created an isolated space using the Middle Tier Spell, Flames of Methuzelda. To conserve mana, he did not use the flames to attack the General. Instead, he merely used the Flames to block the mana from coming in from the outside. It was only a matter of time before the General’s unending supply of magic ran out.
And just like Lark predicted, the General opened another gate. He tried to suck in more mana into his body but failed.
“What’s happening?!” he growled. He tried to retaliate, but it proved useless inside the barrier.
Lark did not bother to explain it to him. He continuously moved inside the barrier of fire and struck the body of the General one after another. Slowly, the mana cladding Urkawi’s body started forming cracks, eventually breaking into minute pieces.
Lark did not miss this opening. He channeled more mana into his sword, and with swift movements, struck the neck of the General.
The Head of the General was cut. It flew into the air then rolled on the ground. The eyes of the severed head widened for a moment, before the light inside it vanished.
The Flames of Methuzelda dispersed, revealing the outcome of the battle to everyone. The beastmen who saw the headless body of General Urkawi froze.
“G-General?”
“W-What happened?”
Lark bent down and grabbed the head of the General. He raised it to the air. He amplified his voice using magic. “Your General is dead. Fighting any further is useless.”
A beastman resembling a jaguar quickly ran towards the dead body. Upon seeing it, he froze and his entire body quivered. He locked eyes with Lark.
Surprisingly, his eyes held no rage nor fear within it. Only emptiness. He slowly walked towards Lark and mumbled, “The body of the General.”
Lark immediately understood. He handed the beastman the severed head.
The beastman wailed the moment he received General Urkawi’s head. His cries echoed, and all of the beastmen warriors stopped fighting. They all stared at Phantomim, the right-hand of General Urkawi.
Although they lost their Commander, Lark knew that they could still turn the tables around with their number. As such, he said, “Take the body of your General with you. Leave. Go back to your country.”
It was only a few words, but it held great persuasive power. They remembered the severed heads of beastmen hanging on the trees on their way here. If they left the General’s body here, who knew what the humans would do to it.
Without uttering a single word, without issuing a single command, Phantomim slowly went out of the town, his hands embracing the head of the General. He silently wailed, his entire body quivering as he walked.
Seeing this, the other beastmen lost the will to fight. They had never expected General Urkawi, The Immortal, to perish in this battle. In a battle to conquer a very small town.
Several officers took the headless body of General Urkawi then issued the retreat.
In a bizarre and unexpected way, the battle ended. The beastmen started retreating one after another.
“Should we give chase?” said Commander Daltos.
He could still not believe that that monster was defeated by the Young Master.
Lark shook his head. “Don’t.”
Thankfully, those beastmen did not charge at them in blind rage. Otherwise, they would have annihilated everything in sight. An army unafraid of death was the most dangerous opponent.
Lark looked around the aftermath of the battle. Numerous corpses were seen here and there. The wooden walls had been destroyed, along with several houses.
He sighed. He looked at the sky.
At the very least, they had survived this war.
***
[Valley of Witches]
Inside his room, an old man with ashen hair silently polished his beloved sword. Embers blazed inside the hearth, while the scent of freshly brewed tea filled the air.
The old man momentarily looked at the table next to his bed. On top of it was a small parchment.
He received the letter several days ago. And even now, he could not guess who the sender was.
All it said was:
The army of beastmen will soon retreat after failing to conquer Blackstone Town. All of them will be under the effects of Magic Poisoning. By that time, they’ll be weaker than your average human.
It was short and concise, but its contents were enough to stir the old man’s heart.
He had been fighting against the Third Legion for more than a year now. Each and every time, he repelled their advances using just a small army. But this time, it seemed that they found a hidden pathway which led directly towards the East.
The old man’s reach was limited. He could not abandon the Valley of Witches to protect that small town. After all, this place was a fortress. If the United Grakas Alliance managed to get hold of this strategic location, they would have a firm foothold in their upcoming invasions.
Three knocks were heard on the door.
“Enter,” said the old man.
One of his men entered the room. “Guild Master. We’ve receive reports from the Animal Tamer.”
The old man silently urged him to continue.
“With significantly fewer numbers, the Third Legion is retreating
back to the United Grakas Alliance.”
The old man froze. After several seconds he stood up.
Things have unfolded just like what was stated in the letter. He decided to see everything with his own eyes.
“Arthur,” said the old man.
“Sir.”
“Gather all of our men,” said the old man. “We will move out in an hour.”
Arthur quizzically stared at him. “Sir? All of our men? What do you mean?”
“We’re leaving the Valley of Witches,” said the old man. “At least for now.”
Around three hundred soldiers would still be left even if their army leaves the Valley of Witches. It should be enough to defend the fortress for a day or two. The old man’s instinct was screaming at him that he had to grab this opportunity in order to end this war.
Sword Master. The Living Sword. These were all the monikers the old man acquired when he was young. But now, he was simply the Guild Master of a Mercenary Guild in Lion City.
If the contents of the letter are true... If the beastmen are currently inflicted with Magic Poisoning…
His eyes glimmered.
Sword Master Alexander decided to slaughter the retreating beastmen army.
Chapter Twenty-Six
[Behemoth City – Capital of the Kingdom]
The servant tasked with taking care of the King froze. She stared at his Majesty. After confirming what she saw, she choked the words out. “His… His Majesty! His Majesty’s awake!”
Afraid that the guards outside did not hear her, she yanked the door open and shouted at the corridor.
“The King’s awake! He’s finally awake!”
The guards stiffened and they immediately ran to fetch the Chief Healer of the Royal Capital. In just a couple of minutes, a middle-aged man came into the room, huffing, behind him were several assistants.
By the time he arrived, the King was already sitting on his bead. His face was pallid, and numerous patches of black had formed on his neck.
“Your Majesty!” The Chief Healer immediately went towards the King’s bed. “How’re you feeling?”
There was deafening silence after that. The Chief Healer’s heart pounded as each second passed by. Was the King okay? If the King died, his head would come rolling at the plaza. That much, the Chief Healer was sure.
Eventually, the King looked at him and replied, “I’m fine. How long was I asleep?”
The Chief Healer knew that it was a lie. Still, he did not refute the words that came out of the King’s mouth.
“Nine days, Your Majesty.”
This was not the first time the King suddenly lost consciousness inside the Palace. But for some reason, the length of each episode was increasing as years went by. The Chief Healer was afraid that at this rate, there would come a time when the King would never wake up.
This disease was probably the reason why the King suddenly announced the competition for the throne – the Chief Healer knew.
“Nine days,” repeated the King. He silently sat there for a full minute then said, “I’m hungry.”
The Chief Healer nodded. “The rest of my assistants are on their way now. We’ve prepared a particularly nutritious food for the moment his Majesty woke up. It should arrive soon. But before that, please let me examine your body, Your Majesty.”
The King gave his consent and the Chief Healer started examining his condition. By the time he was finished, the frown he wore when he arrived here had gone deeper.
“Y-Your Majesty.” The Chief Healer found it hard to say the words out. “At this rate…”
The King stared straight into his eyes. Those eyes were devoid of strength, but the wisdom accumulated through the years were still evident.
“Speak,” said the King.
The Chief Healer sighed. He said to his assistants. “Leave us alone for now.”
The moment everyone was gone, the Chief Healer revealed what he found out. “At this rate… Forget four years. Your Majesty will be lucky to last another two years.”
He was implying that the King may not live long enough to see the result of the competition for the throne. If he died without leaving behind a successor, the Kingdom would be in chaos. The major families would surely grab this opportunity to climb the ladders of hierarchy.
The King fell into deep thought. He dismissed the Chief Healer and silently sat inside his room.
Should he shorten the time for the competition to two years instead of four?
He shook his head. That would not be enough time to assess each candidate.
The Empire was slowly building their forces and King Alvis was sure that they would strike the Kingdom once given the chance.
Furthermore, the Mullgray Pirates started creeping into their lands. Those barbarians pillaged every place they stepped foot into.
If he left behind an incompetent successor, the Kingdom would be swallowed in just a few years’ time by these giants.
As he was contemplating on these things, the food he requested finally arrived. He ordered the servants to place it on his table. After they left, he immediately started eating nonstop. Even now, he could still hear his stomach growling after sleeping for nine days.
“Ah, the artifact.”
He noticed the large gem embedded inside a stone pillar. Since he had been asleep for nine days straight, there should be a lot of messages from the knights by now.
Upon activating the stone, he realized he was right.
There were almost twenty messages. King Alvis started reading them one by one.
Midway, he stopped. His entire body froze on the spot.
The one he was reading was a message from Mikael, the Knight tasked to monitor the second son of Duke Drakus.
The contents of the message were surreal. King Alvis shuddered upon remembering that it had already been more than a week since the message was sent.
“The United Grakas Alliance invaded Blackstone Town?!”
He almost shouted upon reading that. According to the report, the enemy numbered over ten thousand. A Legion. An army massive enough to topple a major city of the Kingdom.
King Alvis felt his chest tighten. He was about to summon the ministers to discuss a contingent plan when he read the messages succeeding that. They were also from Mikael.
The contents of the letter were short and concise, but it was enough to momentarily stop the old King’s beating heart.
The United Grakas Alliance failed to capture Blackstone Town.
Using only a thousand soldiers, Lark Marcus defeated the Third Legion, eventually killing their General. The beastmen have retreated.
The King stood there, dumbfounded.
**
Almost three weeks had passed since the war ended. Dozens of soldiers went back to Lion City to return the dead bodies of their comrades. The casualties on their side numbered almost two hundred during that short exchange, despite the fact that they were protected by walls and trenches.
Lark made use of the remaining soldiers to finally finish the stone walls. This time, it was built with proper supervision from the Mason. It towered seven meters, with enough space to walk on top. It was only half as large as the walls seen in major cities, but it should be enough to confer a certain degree of protection in times of war. It would have been a waste not to make use of the contracted soldiers, otherwise.
Today was the final day of the contract. The soldiers were idling about, since the walls had already been finished.
“How’s it?” Big Mona held his head high as he looked at the stonewalls before them. “I’ve personally made sure that the soldiers did it properly.”
These past few weeks, Big Mona stayed in Blackstone Town under the pretext of helping a friend. But Lark knew the ulterior motives of this fat merchant.
Since today was the day of their departure back to Lion City, he decided to give him that item, finally.
“It seems that Sir Merchant has helped me a lot this time.” Lark proceeded with pleasantri
es.
Big Mona grinned. “We’re business partners! This much is natural, of course!”
He emphasized the word “partners.”
Lark chuckled. “Of course. And I guess it’s time for me to fulfill my side of the deal.”
He called a servant over. “Tell Gaston to deliver the vials to me.”
“Yes!”
After a few minutes, Gaston arrived, carrying a small chest with him. He bowed his head and handed it to Lark.
“I-Is… Is that the Blood Stone?” breathed Big Mona. This was the reason why he chose to stay in this backwater town despite the lurking dangers of the beastman race.
“Blood Stone?” Lark tilted his head. “Is that what you call it here?”
He opened the chest and showed it contents. Inside were six small vials. “I’m capable of making only three middle-grade potions per week. But as thanks for helping me out this time, I’ll give you the three vials I’ve made the month before for free.”
It was a lie. Lark could actually make over a dozen of them if he wanted to, but it would surely make the potion lose its value. By emphasizing that it was a limited item, the price would definitely skyrocket.
Big Mona almost squeaked in glee. His trembling hands accepted the chest filled with vials, and as though it was a treasure, he hugged it tight.
With this, it should be possible to climb the ladder of hierarchy even further.
Big Mona tried suppressing all of his desires from showing on his face, but his body could not help but shudder in glee. He licked his lips.
A merchant like him would not have a hard time procuring any kinds of normal goods within the Kingdom. And the same could be said for the big shots in the capital. The only thing demarcating them was their ability to procure the rarest of commodities. If the middle-grade potion was so rare it was called the Blood Stone, then his name would surely roar throughout the Kingdom as the only merchant selling one.
Blood Stone, huh?
Lark remembered the legendary stone. He had seen it before back in his previous life, but only a fragment of it. Any water submerged in it automatically becomes a potion of the highest quality. Legend says that if one were to consume a fragment, bringing someone dead back to life was a feasibility.