Hero – Part 07
Three hundred soldiers from the Militant Nation, and every one of them carried a katana.
They wielded replicas of the Sacred Sword that the craftsmen had spent countless days and nights forging. Though replicas, these weapons were specifically designed for battle against Valbanill. Their sharpness was no mere imitation, and the differences in their length and curvature were all crafted with the Valbanill Campaign in mind.
For instance, the oversized ōdachi, easily taller than a child, was made to cleave through the massive body of Valbanill. Thanks to the notes left behind by the first Housman and eyewitness accounts, the appearance of the creature had been roughly conveyed. A sword made for a human wouldn’t stand a chance against such a monster. This was the conclusion that led to their creation. Even the smaller wakizashi had a purpose: as a backup, in case the larger blade broke. Every weapon, from the largest to the smallest, was crafted with Valbanill in mind.
And wielding them were three hundred elite soldiers, carefully chosen for their martial prowess. Among them were regular soldiers and former mercenaries. Since last year, they had been trained not for combat against people or siege warfare, but specifically to face Valbanill.
So, though it was by sheer coincidence that the Empire had prepared Inhumans as troops, it was perhaps a stroke of fortune for the swordsmen and their weapons. It gave them a chance to test their abilities. Likewise, they should be grateful that they didn’t have to dive into the actual battle later without any sort of practice.
Because, as it turned out, they were utterly powerless.
The enemy was composed of seventeen Inhumans, led by a female warrior. She stood behind them, armored in black and wielding a massive battle axe. When she raised her weapon, the four-legged Inhumans surged forward, charging toward the Militant Nation soldiers.
The slaughter began.
The Inhumans’ advance was like nothing the soldiers had ever seen. Their two front legs had been amputated and replaced with heavy spears, turning them into grotesque creatures that could plant the spears into the ground and push their massive bodies forward with their hind legs. The hind legs were unnaturally thick with muscle, and the leaps they made were terrifyingly powerful.
Each one was as large as two horses. The first wave of soldiers at the front was immediately overwhelmed, knocked over as their heads and limbs were crushed. Though the cannon fire had already signaled the start of battle, the soldiers were caught completely off guard by the Inhumans’ sudden appearance through the fog.
These were completely unexpected enemies. But despite the shock rippling through their ranks, the brave fighters quickly overcame their fear. Gripping their ōdachi, they surrounded the Inhumans from all sides and struck as one—only to be impaled, hacked to pieces, and slaughtered one after another.
The Inhumans carried swords on their backs. Dozens of blades of varying sizes jutted out in every direction—double-edged, single-edged, even spear-shaped. One reckless soldier, thinking he could charge in, was instantly impaled through his entire body, his life snuffed out in an instant. Others who tried to land a heavy blow found their ōdachi deflected by the swords. In the chaos, they lost their balance and were sliced apart as the Inhumans charged past.
Finally, one soldier’s ōdachi did manage to strike an Inhuman’s tough hide, but it only left a minor scratch. After a few more attempts, the sword, a proud work of the sacred swordsmiths, was chipped. Worse still, most of the swords snapped or bent beyond repair.
The Militant Nation’s front lines were decimated. The soldiers in the rear, unable to see through the mist, could only hear the sounds of clashing swords, their comrades’ screams, and the terrifying roars of the Inhumans. All they could do was be consumed by primal fear. It wasn’t until the creatures that had cut, stabbed, and trampled their way through finally emerged that they realized the true horror of their enemies.
In just a few minutes of battle, one Inhuman fell—its brain destroyed by a large sword piercing its mouth—but more than half of the Militant Nation soldiers were already dead. The Inhumans began to devour the corpses.
As time passed, the fog began to lift slightly, allowing a view of the carnage from the hilltop.
“No! This is wrong!” Zenobia screamed in desperation. “I did not gather them for this kind of slaughter! So they could die in vain!”
Cecily ground her teeth. She recognized those Inhumans. They were just like the four-legged beast that appeared in the city last month. Even with the Infernal Blade, she barely managed to fight off just one. What would happen if they attacked in numbers? Luke said it would be easy to destroy an entire city.
The soldiers at the camp were all pale, faces stricken with fear.
“Are those supposed to be your force against Valbanill? They might as well be Valbanill themselves.” Arvie turned to Siegfried, his tone harsh given the situation.
“The blades they carry have an effect that counteracts Aetheria,” Siegfried replied casually. “I’d say that qualifies as suitable for countering Valbanill, wouldn’t you?”
“But this is not how humans should fight,” Arvie countered. “In fact, this is more like a re-enactment of the Valbanill War.”
“We’re going up against the most horrible Inhuman in the continent’s history, Valbanill. It’s not a beast that can be dealt with by applying human logic. If that’s the case, shouldn’t we abandon conventional understanding?”
Arvie kept hounding the man, but Siegfried just brushed him off every single time.
As Cecily listened to their exchange, she silently made her decision.
Looks like we have no other choice.
She looked around at the others. Harvey, an observer, pale-faced, the trembling Zenobia supported by Charlotte and Doris, the stiff military officials of the Militant Nation frozen in place, Justina, arms crossed and expressionless, and Evadne, casually tending to her horse, indifferent to the chaos. After scanning them all, Cecily turned to her partner.
Aria nodded, as if she already understood, and gave a wry smile. “I’ve started to realize something lately. We won’t die a peaceful death.”
She was damn right.
“Even so, will you follow me to the ends of hell?”
“My answer will never change. Unshackle from slumber. Seize the truth. The wind, in my hand. Slay God.”
Aria whispered the incantation for transformation, and in a whirlwind, she transformed into a rapier.
Cecily gripped the Infernal Blade and turned to look at the camp. Every single person was staring at her in astonishment, wondering what she was about to do.
“Lady Zenobia, pull your soldiers back,” Cecily urged. “The Militant Nation has been defeated.”
Zenobia gasped in shock. “Miss Cecily. What are you doing?”
“You should know by now. There’s no way to turn the tables.”
The defeat was overwhelming. There were only fewer than a hundred soldiers left fighting. There was no hope. With no words of rebuttal to offer, Zenobia hung her head.
“With this, the Militant Nation’s rights to the Valbanill Campaign will be transferred to the Empire,” Cecily added, glancing at the man in black. “Isn’t that right, Siegfried?”
Understanding her intent, Siegfried narrowed his eyes but didn’t answer immediately.
After a long pause, he muttered a low, “Yeah.”
“One more question, then,” Cecily pressed. “If another faction defeats the Inhumans that defeated the Militant Nation, what happens to those rights?”
“What?”
“For example, if the Independent Trade City’s people defeat those Inhumans, what then?”
After a brief moment of silence, everyone around them started to understand what Cecily was implying.
Harvey, her superior, blurted out, “C-Cecily?! What are you saying?”
“Captain Blethyn, please be silent.” Cecily cut him off sharply. “Answer me, Siegfried. If the Independent Trade City’s people kill those Inhumans, the rights you earned from the Militant Nation will temporarily belong to the city, right? After all, the Independent Trade City would be the strongest faction here, having defeated the Inhumans who conquered the Militant Nation.”
She knew the argument was a stretch. Simple physical strength wouldn’t necessarily be effective against Valbanill. But it would work. This outrageous argument would work. She would make it work.
“Francisca called this close-quarters combat a test of strength. If that’s true, then the logic I just presented should hold up.”
Siegfried’s cheek twitched. He seemed to be holding something back.
“You and that man right there are going to fight? Just the two of you?”
Harvey let out a squeak.
“No,” Cecily denied. This was her fight. She had no intention of involving Harvey. “It’ll be me and Aria.”
She said it. She kept her face calm, but inside she was on the verge of tears.
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