I Became a Childhood Friend With the Villainous Saintess

202 – The Last War (4)

A man walked across a field of flowers in full bloom.

A feeble, trudging walk.

Like trampled flowers, the man felt lifeless.

The surroundings were very noisy, but… … he seemed to have neither the time nor the inclination to listen.

A spear of hot flame passed by him.

As weapons collided, screams spread along with huge smoke, and the madness of the battlefield endlessly consumed people.

But there wasn’t even the slightest wavering in the man’s gaze.

Because in the first place, his eyes weren’t looking at anything.

He was a man who was alive but not alive.

A corpse cannot walk on its own. It was only natural that his legs would give out and he would collapse.

The man knelt on the dirt floor and hung his head.

There was a strong smell of despair coming from him.

“Oh my god… … No. Can’t I lean on you anymore… … .”

Suddenly, a silver rosary fell from the man’s hand.

It was a very old-looking rosary.

It was obvious that it had been carefully handled and polished over a long period of time, as the plating was peeling off here and there.

Perhaps it was something that gave strength to the man whenever he had a hard time.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that each and every fingerprint on the chain was proof of one’s faith.

But now the man can no longer pray the rosary.

Because the thing attached to the end of the thin chain was the symbol of Asirel, the god of light.

“What I believed in my whole life… … disappeared like ashes in an instant.”

The pure white priestly robe he wore was the pride of his entire life.

He read the scriptures so clearly that he could tell which chapter was which, and he prayed every day without fail, believing that one day he would have the power to save others.

If his prayers reached God, he knew that the power would surely be used to care for the wounded.

It didn’t take long for his life to be completely shattered.

The moment Baal arrived on the battlefield, each of Asherel’s followers had to rationalize or become frustrated with the situation in their own way.

– Asirel descended, radiant with noble light.

– The hand of light will save the sick, and the sinless and good will be saved.

– Do not withhold good from anyone who is able to help you. Love one another as I have loved you.

The appearance of God that I witnessed with my own eyes was completely different from what I had imagined.

The name of the god of light was not Asherel but Baal, and what he appeared to be was not light but darkness.

There was no salvation for the good.

God’s love, which was thought to be bestowed equally upon all people, was nowhere to be found.

All that the God I believed in until now gave me was indiscriminate and cold death.

“Oh my God… … My God! aaah!”

“Rot! All of you Asirel sect members, get back! Those who don’t follow, get out by force!”

“Those Pantheon guys are crazy!”

“If you see someone doing something weird, just kill them!”

The once fierce battlefield has become a swamp.

A priest who sat down without any escort was an easy prey, and there were plenty of hunters to harvest.

The priest who lost his faith threw away his life like a dropped rosary.

An army with a broken rear rank could not function properly.

The situation was already unfavorable. The demon lords were running wild, and even the support of the priests had disappeared.

It was only natural that the soldiers’ lives disappeared like flowers in front of a flame.

“It’s the Demon King! The Demon King has infiltrated the rear ranks!”

“Cavalry. Call the cavalry!”

In fact, the fall of the southern kingdoms was inevitable.

It has been like this since Baal led the demon lords to the southern part of the continent.

Because they were kingdoms that lacked basic national power.

It is highly unlikely that they have any experience fighting high-ranking demon lords.

Naturally, requests for assistance poured in from the Empire, but they could not all respond.

Sending the army far away only weakens its strength.

I do not wish to use the Empire’s territory as a battlefield, but I do not intend to sit back and watch the Demons trample upon humanity.

In the end, it was best to leave the kingdom of Ashin as a defensive line.

But the best efforts don’t always produce the best results.

The first battle in the kingdom of Ashin was a miserable defeat to say the least.

“His Majesty the Prince is injured! We must protect him!”

“Why aren’t the cavalry coming? How long has it been since I heard the horns!”

“They should have all died long ago! If you don’t want to die, just pick up your weapon and run. Our cavalry is all gone, but the demon lords are still alive with their eyes wide open.”

Hope fades.

Brain Emperor. Star of the Ashin Kingdom.

The lightning of the most powerful ability user on the entire continent was consumed by darkness.

The Sword Master of the fallen Southern Kingdom lost his right arm and was writhing in pain, while the Demon King pondered over how to decorate his body and head on his spear.

If you are a capable commander.

No, any commander with even a little bit of thought would naturally come to one conclusion.

“Retreat! We must have at least one more person survive!”

Dersian advanced forward, urging retreat.

The conclusion was quick, but someone had to buy time.

In order to anticipate the next time, we had to preserve our current power a little more.

To do that, we had to quickly decide who would make the sacrifice.

‘I guess it’s a good thing I haven’t confessed yet.’

There was no hesitation in his steps.

If someone determined had not caught him and persuaded him, Dersian would have stood before Baal alone.

“Stop, Count Eshk. I will do it. Count, lead your troops.”

“Saint? No. Here, let’s go for the one with a little more power… … ”

“I don’t have time, so listen to me. It’s not old people like me who can bring about change, it’s the young people. Or are you going to teach me ‘strategic judgment’?”

Dersian was speechless.

Before his eyes stood an old man in his sixties, holding a cane.

There was no time to think long. Dersian bowed his head.

The old man smiled with satisfaction.

Following him, priests in red walked out from all over the battlefield.

Surprisingly, compared to its name, it is the quietest sect in the Pantheon.

They were priests who served the god of war.

“What happened to the youngest?”

“I’m going to knock him out and throw him into the main unit, Your Majesty.”

“Good job. Anyway, kids these days don’t listen at all. They never do as they’re told by adults. Hey, tsk tsk.”

The veteran clicked his tongue.

It was a completely different attitude from how he had treated Darthian just now.

He hit the cane on the floor, and the shabby-looking cane transformed into two double-edged axes.

It was an axe larger than the upper body of a very sturdy man.

His body, which had seemed emaciated, swelled greatly and became a giant of about 2 meters tall.

“You lamented every day that you had no place to die, but you will finally achieve your dream.”

“Hehehe. I see. Could there be another defeat this valuable? Originally, war was decided by the old and the young died, but- at this level, even the god of war would be pleased with me.”

“When Barbatos was here, I thought my ears would bleed every time the saint whined.”

“That damn b*stard. Our commander-in-chief is a talking idiot who won’t change until the very end.”

The old man clashed two axes together.

Boom! Boom! Boiling blood. Feeling the power spreading through each muscle – the great warrior has found his opponent.

The warrior’s eyes immediately turned red.

“War, take my life──!”

The warrior’s body ran faster than the arrow.

His eyes distinguished only two types of enemy attacks.

There were attacks that I had to avoid and attacks that I could get hit by.

The moment a certain Demon King dared to block his path – the Saint of the Battlefield responded with rage.

“Get out─ get out─!”

The two axe blades moved faster than sound.

Any magic or power that was shot was met with an indomitable body, and the body was transformed into flesh.

In what world.

Achilles first dealt with faith and war in his quest to gain control of the pantheon.

The war was lost to faith, but faith also lost most of its fanatics.

In other words… … it means that if you want to kill the Saint of War, you need that much firepower.

The saint, who received the protection of the god of war in exchange for his life, almost ended up taking the life of Isabella Lobelia.

“War! My terrible war!”

“Hmm… … .”

The axe thrown by the saint flew towards Baal.

Baal changed the trajectory of his axe with a simple nod of his head, but before he knew it, the saint was breaking through the other demon lord’s shield.

The axe returned and lodged itself in the Demon King’s back.

The priests of the war god feel no fear.

Their reddening eyes and reckless charges seem to turn them into berserkers.

But war is ultimately the science of destruction.

A madman may win a battle, but he cannot win a war.

So instead of resorting to trickery, the saint took a wise approach.

Even this power cannot effectively wound Baal.

So what we need to do now is not to die like a moth to a flame at the hands of Baal, but to kill at least one more demon.

While the priests of war rushed at Baal, the saint relentlessly destroyed the demons.

“I won’t stop until this life ends─!”

It truly was so.