Boom, boom, ba-boom!
There was nothing strange about hearing a war drum in the middle of a battle.
The drum on the highest watchtower was practically another command post, keeping watch over the walls on all sides.
But its beat had never sounded so urgent, so perilous. Something in it gripped the hearts of everyone who heard it.
Slice!
A streak of light shot across the foot of the wall like a bolt of lightning.
Dozens of fanatics charging in while scattering Sword Energy were cut to pieces and sent flying. Yet the man responsible for this display of divine might wore a rigid expression.
“This is……”
His words trailed off. The Slaughter Saint, who had been fighting enemies right beneath the wall, turned on instinct—not toward the Inner City, where the drum was sounding, but toward the west, where a muffled roar reached him from far away.
Even he didn’t know exactly why.
All he knew was that his instincts, honed by countless experiences, and the immense surge of power that had boiled over from the west moments ago were stirring every one of his senses.
For an instant, even the streaks of light plunging down from above slipped from his mind.
Shreeeeeeek!
Countless ice spikes rained down, freezing the air around them.
The Slaughter Saint felt the chill bearing down on him, but he didn’t take his eyes off the west.
Someone he could trust stood behind him.
Whoosh!
The wall lit up. A beam of light shot from someone’s fingertips and swallowed hundreds of ice spikes whole.
KABOOOOOM!
A blinding flash erupted with a thunderous crash.
Before the shockwaves of the collision had fully faded, the Bow Saint’s clear Sound Transmission rang in the Slaughter Saint’s ears.
—The West Gate has fallen.
“……!”
The Slaughter Saint swallowed the groan rising in his throat.
The ominous premonition he’d feared had come true. But that left him even less time to lament. With one of the pillars holding their already fragile balance now completely broken, everything was in danger.
—Then the allies defending the West Gate……
—More than half are casualties, according to the numbers confirmed so far. They say the Embroidered Uniform Guard bought us at least a little time by fighting to the death.
Half.
It was no wonder the Slaughter Saint bit his lip at that staggering number.
More than ten thousand defenders had been stationed at the West Gate. And half of them had vanished—in barely half an hour after the battle began in earnest.
—What happened to the survivors?
—Some retreated to the Inner City. Others seem to still be holding off the enemy from the rear.
—Then, could it be……
A grim thought crossed his mind, and he fell silent. The Bow Saint’s quiet Sound Transmission continued.
—Cheongpung and Jin Taekyung. The two of them retreated to the Inner City.
—……They were lucky.
The Slaughter Saint held back a sigh of relief.
After so many had already been lost, it wouldn’t be right to focus only on the survival of those two just because he had ties to them.
But the Bow Saint had more to tell him.
—If those two are alive, we still have a chance. While they defend the Inner City, we can strike back as hard as—
—Even that won’t be easy. Not in their current condition.
—What…… do you mean?
—Jin Taekyung is badly injured, I’m told. Cheongpung isn’t in good shape, either.
—……!
The Slaughter Saint’s eyes widened.
He stopped moving without realizing it. A blade swung at his shoulder.
Slice!
The strike was fast and powerful. He twisted aside at the last moment, but the Sword Energy carried by the blade grazed him and cut his skin.
Of course, even the man lucky enough to land that remarkable hit couldn’t escape death.
Thud!
A dagger flew from the Slaughter Saint’s fingertips and buried itself between the enemy’s brows. At the same time, his figure blurred like a ghost and shot up the wall.
Whoosh, slice!
In the blink of an eye, he stood atop the wall, cutting down enemies climbing by chains and ladders as his lips moved.
—How bad?
The Bow Saint kept firing arrows of Force at the enemy as she answered.
—They can’t say whether he’ll live.
—……Blood Lord. We underestimated that bastard.
A low groan escaped the Slaughter Saint.
He hadn’t been comfortable leaving the West Gate to Jin Taekyung from the start. He’d only been persuaded by the same argument they had used with Jeok Cheongang.
—We shouldn’t have left him there after all.
—It wouldn’t have changed anything, as long as the Blood Lord’s intentions stayed the same.
—I have to go to the Inner City. Hold this gate until then.
There was no time to waste.
If Jin Taekyung’s life hung by a thread, the Slaughter Saint was the only one who could pull him back from death.
With a heavy heart, he turned to leave.
Or tried to.
Until a clear voice reached his ears.
“Is that really the best choice?”
“……What do you mean?”
“Without you, Slaughter Saint, we can’t hold this gate. I certainly can’t hold it alone.”
The Slaughter Saint had no answer.
Of course he knew how dangerous their position was here, at the South Gate.
Even apart from the Grand Sorceress, they faced four Black Ghosts. The mages supporting them were still hurling spells at the wall while granting the fanatics greater strength and speed.
That was why he’d been forced to leave his assigned post at the East Gate and join the defense of the South Gate after only fifteen minutes.
But……
“Are you saying we should just let him—Jin Taekyung—die?”
The Bow Saint met his disbelieving gaze. When she spoke, her voice was graver than he had ever heard it.
“We may have no choice. If that is the death fate has given him.”
“You……!”
“That boy needs the Divine Physician. I know. But right now, all of us need the Slaughter Saint.”
“……!”
“So which choice is best?”
The Slaughter Saint’s eyelids trembled.
Her question pierced his heart like an awl, and he knew the answer better than anyone.
Yet the woman standing before him felt like a stranger.
Why?
He knew why the Bow Saint had reappeared after vanishing for so long. He’d heard how she had followed a letter left by the Martial God, spending years searching for the one called the “chosen one.”
That made her words and actions now all the harder to understand.
Why wasn’t she trying to save the chosen one—or rather, Jin Taekyung?
There was something in her eyes and voice that he couldn’t begin to fathom. It was more than simple faith that Taekyung would survive.
Bow Saint, what exactly are you hiding?
He forced down the question on the tip of his tongue, along with the doubts racing through his mind.
The enemy’s assault was growing fiercer, as though it would not allow him even a moment to think.
Fwoooosh.
A massive sphere of flame suddenly turned the sky red, blotting out the wind and rain.
It hurtled toward them with terrifying force. The Slaughter Saint leaped from the wall to meet it without hesitation.
Whoosh!
A streak of light cut through the air along the path traced by his fingertips. A rift opened, followed by an explosion.
KABOOOOOM!
The ball of fire shattered into hundreds of pieces and scattered in every direction. The Slaughter Saint landed where he had started and fixed a profound gaze on the Bow Saint.
“Is that answer enough?”
Perhaps she saw the change in his eyes. A bitter smile crossed her lips.
“It does.”
Leaving her behind, the Slaughter Saint silently turned to face the enemies, who had dyed the land outside the wall pitch-black.
More precisely, he looked toward the one who had just displayed magic of a power beyond anything they’d seen so far.
The Grand Sorceress.
The face of another ringleader, who had finally stepped forward, burned itself onto the Slaughter Saint’s eyes. Four Black Ghosts stood around her like guards.
Then—
Rumble……
A chilling vibration rose from deep beneath the earth. The Slaughter Saint turned his head in one direction.
He thought of the one person who cherished Jin Taekyung more than anyone in the world—the one person who would rush into any danger for him.
You’re the only one left now. I’m counting on you, Fire King.
Just as the Slaughter Saint murmured those words in his heart—
Rrrrrumble!
The ground within a radius of roughly a hundred jang1 around the South Gate heaved its vast, heavy body upward.
A man’s voice rang out across the battlefield.
“Shake it.”
Earthquake.
KABOOOOOM!
Rumble!
The violent tremor began in the south and spread in every direction. Those who felt it reacted in different ways.
“A-an earthquake!”
Some thought of a disaster no human strength could stop and were seized by fear.
“Don’t falter! What is there left to fear?”
Others, already prepared to die, fought the enemy without giving an inch.
“Damn bitch. She hasn’t noticed already, has she?”
And one man, recognizing the power, fired blood-red flashes at the moths foolish enough to block his path to the Inner City.
He needed to take one man’s life quickly—and for good—before anything else could get in his way.
But that man—the Blood Lord—didn’t know what was happening several hundred jang1 away at the North Gate.
A massacre far beyond anything he had expected.
“A-a demon……”
Cough.
Blood mixed with bits of entrails spilled from the old monk’s lips.
His bright yellow robe was soaked through, its original color nowhere to be seen. Blackened corpses lay scattered in every direction.
None of them knew how many people had met such a terrible end.
Not even the man who had created this hellscape.
There was only one thing he knew for certain.
Crack.
The middle-aged monk whose neck he had just broken in his grasp was the last survivor of the Twelve Secret Monks, renowned as Tibet’s finest.
“Now you’re the only one left.”
The old monk standing rigid as a statue was the only obstacle still in his way.
“……!”
The Dalai Lama’s eyes were wide open, his pupils trembling.
Jeok Cheongang, the Fire King, took a weary step toward him.
He thought of his Disciple, who must be in danger by now.
He reminded himself of his resolve.
“Let’s finish this quickly. He’s waiting.”
Fwoosh.
A white flame spread across his fatigue-dimmed pupils.
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