LRAB Chapter 95: An Unfair Pattern and the Overwhelmingly Strong Hero Party
Chapter 95: An Unfair Pattern and the Overwhelmingly Strong Hero Party
Chapter 95: An Unfair Pattern and the Overwhelmingly Strong Hero Party
Chapter 95: An Unfair Pattern and the Overwhelmingly Strong Hero Party
Balzac stared at the scene unfolding before him with trembling eyes.
He couldn’t begin to understand what was happening.
Was he looking at an illusion conjured by magic? The thought crossed his mind, but it was too absurd to believe.
No, illusion magic wouldn’t work on someone who had reached the superhuman level of a Swordmaster.
Not only that, but every bit of mana in the vicinity was under his control, making it impossible for anyone to cast spells undetected.
This was, without a doubt, reality.
The man he had defeated with all his might had revived without a scratch, as if mocking his efforts. And, as if that weren’t enough, the man had brought reinforcements.
...This was dangerous.
No, it was unmistakably perilous.
The three figures now standing before him exuded an ominous aura.
Balzac was confident he could handle one hero on his own. But four of them? Could he truly win against that?
A foreboding feeling swept over him.
From all the battles he had fought and the countless experiences he had accumulated, every instinct screamed at him to retreat.
This was a battle he couldn’t afford to face, no matter what.
‘I have no choice but to step back.’
A strategic retreat.
Of course, it wasn’t fleeing.
The Imperial Knights didn’t even have the word “retreat” in their vocabulary. It was merely a tactical withdrawal to prepare for the future.
‘There’s still room for negotiation.’
If that woman, Rubia, had died, the chance for a ceasefire would have been slim.
But since the heroes arrived faster than expected, not much of the drug had been administered to her.
With proper treatment, there shouldn’t be any lasting aftereffects.
The sooner the treatment began, the better the outcome.
This could be enough leverage to strike a deal. Fighting any further would only lead to mutual losses.
‘They don’t seem particularly eager to fight, either.’
The white-haired girl darted her eyes around cluelessly. She didn’t seem to have grasped the situation yet. A little naïve, perhaps. If approached properly, she might be persuaded.
The blue-haired girl seemed to be analyzing the situation carefully. That could work to his advantage.
He needed someone rational to negotiate with, after all.
Finally, the black-haired girl...
She seemed more focused on checking the condition of the white-haired man than anything else.
Why she was applying her own saliva to someone whose wounds had already healed was beyond Balzac’s understanding.
Her vacant expression and lack of apparent resolve suggested she wasn’t a threat either.
Perhaps this ceasefire could be arranged more easily than anticipated.
Balzac genuinely believed so.
“Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not. That bastard tried to kill me.”
Up until he heard those words.
The black-haired girl’s question was met with a chilling response from the man.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
“Maybe it’s because his sword pierced my heart, but it still hurts. Could I die like this?”
The man’s words were accompanied by a wicked smile.
As he continued to speak, the expressions of his three companions started to change.
It was as if they were collectively malfunctioning. @@@@
In unison, their gazes turned toward Balzac.
...The swords trembled.
Balzac’s face twisted in horror.
He was genuinely frightened.
A Swordmaster of the Empire, one of only three in existence, who had reached a level of unity with the world... was terrified.
Terrified by the sheer malice radiating from them.
By the endless, suffocating intent to kill directed solely at him.
But Balzac quickly steadied his breathing and calmed his mind.
Though the sudden turn of events had startled him, he was a warrior who had reached the pinnacle of his craft. He wouldn’t falter now.
Naturally, his enemies would have no choice but to shield her. No matter what those four tried, they couldn’t withstand the power granted by His Majesty.
This battle would end in his victory.
...At least, it should have.
It should have, but—
“Break the necklace! Light is coming from the necklace, and he’s using it to attack Rubia Unnie with that strange sword!”
Through the remaining shadow pathway, a brown-haired girl poked her head out and shouted.
Before he could even activate the cursed blade...
The blue-haired knight shattered the necklace into pieces. The power stored within it was now useless.
Grinding his teeth, Balzac wildly unleashed sword energy at the fallen woman.
But—
[It’s been a while.]
Before him stood a wolf.
The Beast King, who should have been betrayed and absorbed, had reappeared.
Before Balzac could even process the bizarre situation, his sword energy was swallowed by shadows.
A shadow pathway appeared behind him.
The energy he had unleashed turned back on him, flying straight at its origin—himself.
Balzac managed to evade with quick reflexes, but...
The same process repeated itself.
The deflected sword energy was swallowed by shadows again, only to be redirected toward him.
On top of that, the relentless assaults from the white-haired girl continued, her strikes brimming with curses too potent to ignore.
Now, Balzac couldn’t even muster an attack. He was entirely consumed by the effort to dodge and block.
In the midst of this chaos—
[A little service for you, kid. I’ve got my own grudge against that bastard.]
The wolf’s voice echoed.
The black-haired girl stepped forward slowly.
Beneath her, a massive and intricate magic circle began to etch itself into the ground.
No, could it even be called a magic circle?
[I’ll lend you my strength.]
It wasn’t mana fueling this ritual but something far darker—an ominous and sinister energy.
The formation pulsed with malevolent light as it activated.
Balzac’s shadow moved on its own, wrapping around him like a living entity.
No matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t escape. The shadow transformed into chains, binding him completely and rendering him powerless.
Yet... no attacks came.
The blue-haired girl, who had been threatening him moments ago, and the white-haired girl, who had relentlessly pressed him with her cursed strikes, both stopped their assaults and backed away.
Why?
What was happening?
The reason was obvious without needing much thought.
The white-haired man was looking directly at him.
In his golden eyes, flames of divine brilliance burned.
That man hadn’t just been idly observing the battle. He hadn’t been drained of strength in the earlier fight, either.
He had simply been preparing.
For the final strike.
“『Holy Sword...』”
A surge of sacred energy filled the air.
An archbishop? A cardinal? The Pope?
No, it wasn’t like any human divinity. This aura wasn’t something that could emanate from a mere mortal.
This divine power...
The radiant wings unfurling behind him...
...They belonged to a god.
A god stood before Balzac.
“Draw Sword .”
In an instant, pure white light consumed everything.
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