Chapter 649

I used the fiery barrier as a makeshift cover, crouching down as I frantically searched the ground for something to cover myself with.

Even if it couldn’t cover my entire body, at the very least, I needed to hide the Holy Mark, my chest, and my lower half. If I revealed myself like this in front of others, I wouldn’t be known as the daughter of Landenburg but as… well, something far less dignified.

Who knows? Maybe my disgrace would be taxidermied like Rotholandus and passed down through generations as a cautionary tale.

How could I possibly face that?

Just the thought sent shivers down my spine.

So, I desperately searched for something to wear.

The area around the rocky hill I’d burst out of was a mess of heat and blood, and there wasn’t a single intact piece of clothing in sight.

Coats, cloaks—everything was torn, burned, and reduced to ashes. Even the armor was half-melted, twisted, and warped. And to make matters worse, chunks of flesh and organs clung to them like barnacles on a ship’s hull.

After digging through the blood-soaked mess for dozens of seconds, I finally managed to find a piece of armor that still held its shape.

A chainmail infantry armor that covered about half of my thighs. Judging by its design, it wasn’t from Ka`har, so it seemed not only enemies had been caught in the World of Mortality.

“……”

I closed my eyes and offered a brief prayer for the dead, wishing them peace.

Though it wasn’t my doing, since Hersela had fallen silent—perhaps asleep again—I was the only one left to apologize for their deaths.

It was an unexpected accident. Even though the Heroic Tale was said to instantly kill all living beings within its range, friend or foe, I never imagined it would extend so far up.

In a way, I was partly responsible. If I hadn’t unleashed Hersela, the World of Mortality wouldn’t have consumed them.

Judging by the scattered pieces of Ka`har armor around, the owner of this armor would’ve likely been killed by Ka`har even without the World of Mortality… but still, an apology was necessary. It was the right thing to do.

Just because they were destined to die regardless of Hersela’s actions didn’t absolve her—or me—of responsibility.

—

After the brief moment of mourning, I shook the chainmail to roughly dislodge the blood and flesh clinging to each link, then draped it over myself like a makeshift cloak.

The twisted and broken links looked like they’d tear the skin off anyone who wore it normally.

But for me, it wasn’t a problem. If anything, the real issue was how my skin peeked through the gaps in the chainmail.

It was, at best, a temporary solution.

Anyway, clad in my chainmail “dress,” I made my way to the rear camp. My injured leg slowed me down, preventing me from sprinting, but I managed.

“Huh…? What was that…?”

Along the way, soldiers rubbed their eyes as if they’d seen a ghost. Well, I guess they’d never seen someone using a sword as a crutch while covering ten meters in a single stride.

—

“Priest Schweitzer, over here!”

“Get the armor off! The metal’s digging into his flesh!”

“Shaulite, hear us…!”

The rear camp I arrived at was filled with priests pouring Healing Miracles over the wounded.

Aside from using recovery potions and healing spells instead of morphine injections, the scene was eerily familiar. Field hospitals were all the same, no matter where you went.

“Sir Median!?”

One of the bustling priests noticed me and rushed over, her face a mix of shock and relief. She was a young woman dressed in the Shaulite Church Order’s nun habit.

“Are… are you alright?”

“I’m fine, aside from my leg. Lost all my armor, though.”

“But you’re covered in blood…!”

The priestess pointed at my upper body with trembling hands.

Now that she mentioned it, I did look like a blood-soaked mess. Most of it was Ka`har blood, though.

“Not my blood. Anyway, I need healing and some clothes. Anything’s fine, as long as I can put it on quickly.”

“Ah, yes! Just a moment!”

The priestess hurried off and returned with a healing priest from the Shaulite Church Order who’d treated me before. She carried a quilted jacket, pants, a clean chainmail, and boots—no idea where she’d found them.

“Long time no see.”

“Indeed. First time since I sparred with Nigel.”

They handed me the clothes, then held up a bedsheet as a makeshift curtain while pouring Healing Miracles over my wounds. I quickly changed out of the twisted chainmail and into the new clothes.

Since I kept my back to them while changing, the Holy Mark remained hidden.

“Is Rana not here?”

“Sister Rana is tending to the critically wounded. Should I call her?”

“No, that’s fine.”

I adjusted the armor’s belt, sheathed Durandal and Jeokrindo into a makeshift scabbard, and shook my head.

She was busy healing those worse off than me, accumulating good deeds. I didn’t want to disturb her. She’d only worry if I called her over.

“—Emergency treatment is done.”

“Thanks. As expected, the Shaulite Church Order’s Healing Miracles are unmatched.”

By the time I finished changing, their healing was complete. Though it was only a temporary fix.

“However, we’ve only realigned the shattered bones. The fragments haven’t fully fused yet. If you move recklessly, the bones will split again. Understood?”

“Yeah, got it.”

So, I’d need another round of healing after the fight. With the battle still raging, I couldn’t afford to hold back.

I nodded and dashed back toward the battlefield.

“Wait, I told you not to run—!”

The priestess’s exasperated voice faded into the distance. With every step, it felt like my bones were being scraped raw, but it was bearable.

As long as I could keep moving until I reached my destination and ended the fight, that was all that mattered.

My destination was clear.

“As long as I’m here, you’re not going anywhere!”

A black-armored warrior, roaring at the top of his lungs, was holding his ground—no, pushing back—against the Sword of Landenburg.

The War Chief of the Black Armies, Glar Glar.

His head was my target. Since Or-han had slipped away, taking him down would have to suffice.

—

The battlefield I returned to was as chaotic as ever, though the tide had turned completely.

The Grassland People, who’d climbed the barrier to engage in close combat, were retreating like a receding tide the moment the counterattack order was given. The Imperial Army tried to hold them back, but…

Well, more accurately, they tried to hold them back. Unfortunately, the Empire couldn’t even slow down Ka`har’s retreat.

It wasn’t that the Imperial Army was incompetent—Ka`har’s retreat was just too fast. It was like they’d practiced nothing but running away.

They say a warrior never retreats in the face of the enemy, but from what I saw, that seemed like a lie Ka`har had spread. I’d never seen anyone run away so skillfully.

Watching them flick their shields to block arrows raining down on their retreating forces, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration.

Of course, not all their forces had retreated beyond reach. To protect the rear of their retreating troops, a few warriors, including a Paladin, were still locked in combat with the Empire’s knights.

Their War Chief, Glar, was no exception.

I whipped my aching leg forward, launching myself toward Glar. He was near the remains of the barrier, thrashing like a beast with half his left leg burned.

“Kaaaah!”

Heinrich was on one knee, trembling as if his strength had run out, and Hayden was twitching in a pile of corpses.

“I… can’t move anymore…!”

Nigel, too, seemed to have reached his limit, leaning on his spear to stay upright. Effectively, Joshua was the only one holding Glar back.

“Nigel, are you hurt?”

I pressed down on Nigel’s shoulder as he tried to straighten up, stopping him.

“Huh? Who— Ah, Sir Ha-shal-leur!”

Nigel, too exhausted to even notice my approach, jumped in surprise and looked at me.

“Are you unharmed?”

“I’m fine. You rest. Leave Glar to me.”

I patted Nigel’s shoulder and stepped forward, drawing Durandal from my waist.

“Wait, Sir Ha-shal-leur! You can’t swing your sword at him. All slashing and stabbing attacks will be reflected!”

Nigel urgently tried to stop me.

“Close-range reflection? Or physical reflection? So that’s why Joshua’s only defending.”

I see now. No wonder Joshua was only defending while the battle priests handled the attacks.

I’d wondered why they were fighting so inefficiently, but it seemed Glar’s Heroic Tale made it impossible for Joshua to attack.

Given how weak he seemed to wide-area miracles that sweep everything in range, it was either a defensive technique that reflected physical damage… or one that reflected attacks targeting him.

…Well, either way, it wasn’t a big deal.

I sheathed Durandal halfway and cracked my wrists as I approached Glar.

“Can’t cut him with a sword, huh? Then I’ll just burn him to a crisp.”

The rune engraved on my right wrist glowed with heat.

“Ha-shal-leur…! You… ungrateful traitor…!”

Sensing my killing intent, Glar turned his head toward me, growling with the hatred of a lifelong enemy.

What’s he gonna do about it?

Did he think glaring at me would make me back down?

I smirked and stretched my arm toward him.