In the Name of the Southern Alliance
The Demon King and the Tower absorbed many different forms of energy.
Most notably, there were intangible, negative emotions such as sorrow, rage, curses, and despair—yet those had originally only been auxiliary means.
Blood and life. Nothing was more noble and pure than the innate energy held by living beings, and in other dimensions, it was normal to lead humans to death and convert that into demonic energy points.
But in Arein, that was impossible for him.
To call forth blood was to call forth death—and there was no way humans and heroes would simply stand by and allow the Demon King to reap lives unchecked.
In other words, the fact that negative emotions had become the main source of demonic energy was proof that the Demon King was the weaker one in Arein.
And the fact that he had no choice but to rely on that main source meant only one thing: other means were superior.
There had been as many as three battles.
They were not grand wars with thousands or tens of thousands clashing at once, yet the involvement of monsters had called forth even more death.
And the ones fighting were not ordinary humans, but mostly knights and mages who had accumulated mana and aura.
The more exceptional the human, the more life energy they carried.
That was why—
The negative energy stocked within the makeshift towers was fairly abundant.
At least, more than he had expected.
He could guess how fiercely they had fought, and how deeply they had cursed one another.
"So the cavern with the lode is currently occupied by the Southern Alliance?"
"Yes, sir."
"I should go take a look."
Berze left Ernan, Logar, and the elves in the hands of the Southern Alliance and headed toward the Philerium Mountains alone.
As he approached the cave that led to the lode, he sensed quite a number of people.
They had built palisades around the cave and set up a camp. Easily a thousand. It showed just how much importance the Southern Alliance placed on the mana stone mine.
Pablo Barkat isn't here.
He was likely inside the cave.
There wasn't only one entrance leading toward the cavern containing the lode, and the place where the Empire and the Southern Alliance faced each other was ultimately that cavern.
Avoiding the sentries, he slipped inside. From there, it grew easier. The cave was dark, and darkness was nothing but familiar to the Demon King.
He darted forward swiftly. The soldiers he occasionally passed never noticed him.
"Was that the wind?"
The cavern he finally reached was filled with thorough preparations. Using wood and stone, they had erected barricades, dug traps, and installed magic circles.
The high ceiling allowed for watchtowers, and archers were stationed above. There were even a few mana cannons.
They had truly mobilized their full strength.
The future has changed.
Previously, the defenders had been the Empire, but now it was the Southern Alliance.
Would the Empire even be able to reclaim this place again?
Berze knocked out a knight standing watch on the outskirts and changed into his uniform.
He buried the unconscious knight in the ground and covered his face completely with the helmet. Then he suppressed his presence as much as possible.
"Hey, shift change."
After waiting a moment, a new knight arrived.
"Right."
"Damn it, to think someone of my caliber is stuck doing sentry duty. Don't you agree?"
"We brought mostly knights instead of soldiers. Can't be helped."
"You've got a strange accent."
He inspected the crest engraved on Berze's armor.
"Are you from the Kingdom of Torkan?"
"Yes."
"I heard that country has a lot of dealings with foreign nations?"
"Maritime trade is quite active."
After matching his tone briefly, Berze left the watchtower. He crossed paths with many knights and mages, but none paid him any mind.
Except for one.
"You there."
Berze swallowed tightly and focused on suppressing his presence even further.
"There's something familiar about your aura. Unusually refined…"
Pablo Barkat frowned.
"Are you with the Kingdom of Torkan?"
"Yes."
"Even your voice sounds… odd. Take off your helmet."
"Sir?"
"I told you to take off your helmet."
Shit.
He had infiltrated to confirm things up close, but he didn't expect to be caught so quickly.
Should I just run?
If he fled, wouldn't they merely suspect him of being an Imperial spy and leave it at that?
As he debated—
Ding ding ding—
The alarm rang.
"Enemies!"
"Imperial forces!"
"Those damned bastards again!"
The camp erupted into chaos. Pablo Barkat spat curses and ran off. Berze let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Fortunate.
Actually, this was perfect—he wanted to watch the battle between the two sides anyway.
Blending in with the other knights, Berze moved toward the barricade.
***
Clink—
Pablo Barkat lowered his visor.
Dudududududu—
The ground rumbled. Because they were inside a cave and a cavern, the vibrations grew even louder.
"Horses? Here?"
A horse was a fast and powerful creature, but also one restricted by space.
Let alone a narrow, damp cave—and a cavern that was bigger but still practically enclosed.
Horses were sensitive creatures, and riding them in such a place was never the right choice.
Pablo thought the same. So he assumed there were at most one or two. The sound and the rumbling seemed grand simply because of the cave's nature.
But.
"Crazy!"
"These insane bastards—charging in here?!"
What rounded the corner was a knightly order nearly fifty strong. Fully armed, maintaining formation, charging straight ahead.
Riding skill bordering on the divine.
To have dragged horses all the way into a place like this—and to charge inside it—Pablo couldn't help but marvel. But he immediately faced the reality that the threat was now right before his eyes.
"Open the gate!"
"Your Highness!"
"With these makeshift logs, we cannot possibly stop their charge. I will stop them myself!"
The gate opened. Pablo rushed to the front. His personal guard, the Blackwing Knights, stepped forward with shields in hand.
"Your Highness."
"Stay sharp. Those are…"
Pablo ground his teeth.
Lances leveled forward. Aura erupted. Nearly fifty auras resonated at once.
They merged, interlocked, and formed a single shape.
The knights closed in rapidly. Magic traps activated. Soldiers on the palisade fired their arrows.
But nothing could pierce the resonating aura.
"…Because they're the Red Dragon Knight Order."
"G–good heavens!"
As the distance closed, the emblem engraved on their armor came into view.
A dragon—so realistic it looked ready to roar at any moment. Its form was dyed in vivid red.
The crest of the dragon symbolizing the Jespine Empire.
"You sons of bitches…!"
Pablo unleashed his aura to the limit. His greatsword expanded, growing nearly five meters tall. The alliance soldiers erupted in cheers.
"Your Highness!"
"Yes! We have His Highness with us!"
The alliance forces, who had been shaken by the enemy's momentum, regained their morale.
Pablo thrust his sword forward and stepped out.
The knight order arrived.
──────!
The earth overturned.
Horses screamed.
The palisade collapsed.
Men were thrown to the ground.
And then—
Pablo Barkat was pushed back.
"Ghh…!"
His aura shattered. Muscles tore. Blood vessels burst in his eyes.
Yet Pablo endured.
But his subordinates did not. The Blackwing Knights could not stand against the Red Dragon.
"Kuaaaagh—!"
"Gah—!"
Members of the Blackwing Order were flung away screaming.
Their formation collapsed. And behind them, hundreds of Imperial soldiers flooded in.
"You damn bastards…!"
Pablo swung his sword toward an enemy knight.
CLANG—
Red aura blocked him.
"So you are the famed Pablo Barkat. It is an honor to cross blades with you. I am Halo, Commander of the Red Dragon—"
"I don't give a damn about a corpse's name—shut up!"
There could not—would not—be a second defeat. Pablo roared.
The true battle for the lode began.
***
Red Dragon Knights…
The Empire had played a decisive card.
Dragons—the symbol of the Jespine imperial family.
The highest emblem allowed to only five knight orders in the Empire.
They served directly under the imperial family.
They were the strongest force in the vast Empire.
Wild, overwhelming, and superior.
For such a knight order to commit to a full-force lance charge meant only one thing: wings would be broken, and the dragon's victorious roar had already decided the outcome.
It's settled.
Pablo Barkat fought fiercely, but the Red Dragon Knight Commander was by no means inferior, and with the Southern Alliance's formation shattered at the outset, they were swallowed whole by the Red Dragon Order's infamous might.
The difference in overall skill was also enormous.
Why is the Empire called an Empire?
How did it become an Empire—and remain one still?
Before absolute power, the Alliance crumbled quickly.
The Southern Alliance's blunder was that even facing the Empire, they still held back, unwilling to send their absolute elites, and they feared the Red Dragon Knight Order's reputation.
The Empire, seizing that opening, had sent one of its finest forces.
Of course, this was merely a small battle. From the Alliance's perspective, it was only a single defeat after many victories—and there were plenty of chances to retake the lode.
Surely they won't give up just from this.
Yet a small unease sprouted.
Before the regression, the lode ended up in the Empire's hands.
Was this event the first step toward repeating that same history?
The Empire sending the Red Dragon Knights meant they were fully committed—utterly unwilling to back down.
If the Alliance continued to break, they would eventually give up. Just as they had in the past.
That isn't…
That wasn't what Berze wanted.
The war needed to continue.
It needed to grow larger, fiercer.
Only then would he gain more from it.
This scent of the battlefield…
Rage, resentment, and curses directed at one another.
Screams filled with agony.
Overflowing blood.
Dying life.
All of it was beautiful.
And to preserve this beauty, balance had to be maintained.
And Berze was wearing the armor of a Southern Alliance knight.
He drew his knight's sword.
Suppressing his presence, he slipped into the chaotic battlefield.
Heading toward the fiercest point.
"Die!"
A flash carved through space. The Red Dragon Knight Commander staggered.
Pablo advanced as much as the other retreated, swinging an even fiercer blow. But from both sides, other blades struck at his openings.
The Red Dragon Commander steadied his posture.
"You cowardly sons of—!"
"Where in war is there such a thing as cowardice?"
"Are you Red Dragon Knights not ashamed of yourselves?"
"I didn't expect you to worry on our behalf. But don't fret—no one will complain about a coordinated strike against the hero of the South."
Objectively, in sheer individual might, Pablo surpassed the Red Dragon Knight Commander.
However, the Red Dragon Knights were not fighting alone, while Pablo kept losing critical openings.
"Shut up!"
Pablo raged—or rather, pretended to rage.
Give flesh, take bone.
He charged like an enraged bull that had lost all reason.
────!
Overpowered, the Red Dragon Commander took a half-step back. As always, the knights' swords targeted Pablo's blind spots.
Pablo twisted his body. At the same time, he tightened his grip on his sword.
Kakakakak—
Red aura sliced through Pablo's armor, cutting into his flesh.
A dizzying pain washed over him.
But it wasn't fatal. Gritting his teeth, he threw himself forward.
His blade collided with the commander's sword once more.
CLANG—
But this time was different.
A single decisive strike—into which he had poured everything—blew aside the hastily raised sword.
The commander's chest was exposed.
Pablo's eyes flashed.
Pierce.
And kill. Even if it didn't kill him, it would leave a mortal wound. And it would turn the tide of battle.
"Not so fast!"
But another blade intercepted him. A Red Dragon Knight—his sword clashing against Pablo's.
Even as a Red Dragon Knight, an ordinary knight could not truly stop Pablo's attack. Yet the slight rebound, the tiny interruption—
—that momentary loss of time was enough for the Red Dragon Commander to regain his stance.
"You filthy bastards…!"
Pablo's eyes reddened.
He wanted to spit blood from frustration—the chance of a lifetime had slipped from his grasp right before his eyes.
And then—
CRACK—
A pure white blade burst through the Red Dragon Commander's chest.
"…Huh?"
"…What?"
Pablo's pupils widened.
Blood streamed down the blade.
"Glory to the Southern Alliance! Glory to His Highness Pablo Barkat!"
The knight who had ambushed the commander from behind shouted triumphantly.
The knight's gaze turned toward Pablo. Their eyes met.
Red?
Through the visor, a red, resolute light flickered.
Had there been such a knight among them?
"You imperial dogs—how dare you encroach upon our lands! This is the domain of the Southern Alliance, by the Southern Alliance, and for the Southern Alliance—ordained by the gods!"
The knight roared.
Gods?
WAAAAAAAH—!
The Southern Alliance troops exploded into cheers at the sight of his feat.
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