The Requiem Of An Empress - Chapter 33 1st Tuor

“Let me reiterate this. I utterly desire to gouge those awful eyes out.”

“They barely qualify as the same organ, Lord Morholt.”

Although the constitution of demons and monsters is dissimilar to that of humans and animals, the deserted group sensed that the creatures were somehow observing them through their optic organs. These detestations dared not to cross the unlocked passage for some reasons, much to the discontent of the knights.

“Looking at these abominations now, I do think you’re right. Aren’t you smart, Zelel?”

The Prime Minister merely nodded his head as a response to the peculiar comment, an awkward smile plastered on his face.

‘If I weren’t smart, the Empire would be in a lot of trouble.’ Zelel thought as he repeatedly tapped the ground with his left foot, coveting to get a move on.

After getting tired of the distasteful view, Duke Claudas diverted his gaze from the vile existences towards Mikhail, who was one step away from entering the barrier. Percival first retrieved his Holy Swords, afore his ingress to the land riddled by scorned creatures.

“Follow me closely. If you drop dead before we find the demon nobles, I will kill you once again.” The knight commander gave his caution that was equally repugnant to their enemies’ appearances.

Admiringly enough, his subordinates were accustomed to his vituperative tongue. Aethras’ of verbal ‘abuse’ from the Emperor and the commander himself gave the knights an immunity from their remarks.

“I will gladly finish off Jibrail myself, commander.”

Jibrail’s ears perked up when his name was spoken, turning to see his arch-nemesis Israfel. The Marquiss was whistling while feigning ignorance; his hands were inside the pocket of his trousers.

“It’s not like you can, Israfel.” Jibrail voiced out as he glared at the mistaken adversary.

And a counterproductive fight occurred with that taunt.

The others adequately predicted the rise of this frivolous argument, so they went ahead and infiltrated the barrier without the rowdy ones in tow. Hence, only Israfel, Jibrail, and Zelel were left behind to wait for Mikhail.

“What did you say, you uncouth animal?!”

“Your kind is calling for you, obnoxious dimwit! See, they’re looking!”

“Why are you here when it’s time for the barbarians to eat?!”

“Who are you calling a barbarian?!”

Zelel soughed, unsurprised of the fatigue that his body has been building up by simply acting as the chaperone of Israfel and Jibrail. Clearing his throat, the Minister decided that they ought to catch up with the vanguard group.

“The commander has already advanced, My Lords. He would be mad if he doesn’t witness the both of you trailing him.” Zelel reminded the two knights. At the same time, he comforted himself with the thought that his sole companions were children at heart.

“What?!” In concert did they express their disbelief; Israfel peered around the surroundings while Jibrail eyed at the spot where Mikhail was previously standing.

With that, Zelel’s children scampered in the direction of their doom. However, they should have listened to their guardian, who was shouting with all his might.

“That is not the route that Lord Mikhail took! Lord Israfel and Lord Jibrail stop!” Unable to hold back the irritation from influencing him, the Prime Minister exhaled as he ran after the troublemakers.

“I have to go and fetch them. If they did not have the scrolls, I would have abandoned them to their own devices.”

Meanwhile, Mikhail, who shortly caught up with the leading party on the tenth-kilometre mark of their infiltration, immediately went into action.

Displaying its gallant figure, he hoisted Bors over and above his head which made the muscles in his arms bulk up, showing through his white shirt that was bedraggled with sweat. Subsequently, he tightened his grip on the sword’s handle, cutting the flow of blood in his left knuckle, then cleaved the space in front of him horizontally.

Upon contact with the condensed and lacerating wind gusts that Bors expended, the bodies of the horde fronting him were decimated into fine sediments of dust, putting the area in a state of zero visibility. In an instant, the ground where the demons and monsters were strewn about became desolate.

The creatures crowding the sides, who were fortunately outside of Mikhail’s range, suddenly rushed towards the group. However, the knight was not done yet. He lifted his other Holy Sword, Gallahad, and used it along with a spell.

“Ad Undas”

Once he uttered the enchantment, he swung down Gallahad until the tip of its length touched the dirty terrain.

All of a sudden, a flash of light abstracted the soots that floated in the air. It was followed by a rumbling explosion that shook the ground, as smoldering, charcoal-hued flames shrouded the entire perceivable battlefield. Within the vicinity bordered by the horizon, the conflagration scorched every single enemy as if they were parchments imprisoned in a forest fire.

Purely the crackling and sizzling of the roaring blaze resounded within the plains, as the smell of burning flesh dominated the spectators’ senses in a matter of a short window.

What’s inadmissible of the sword’s power was that it didn’t spare the allies.

“Why do you always use that spell whenever we are around, Lord Mikhail? Look, I am on fire.” Seemingly disgruntled, Iophiel grumbled regarding his predicament. He tried to brush away the patches of fire that was on his knight coat, but it was futile and just made them spread even more.

On the other hand, Khamael stood behind Mikhail, absent exerting the effort to smother the inferno.

“I could say the same, Lord Cynan. I’d rather be an only child than have an arsonist of a brother.” The younger Percival provokingly proclaimed while squinting his eyes to observe the carcasses of the demons and monsters.

“… very insensitive of him.” Haniel said under her breath as she glared at her commander.

Beside the Duchess, Sarakiel was profusely fanning himself with his hands.

“The heat is making me dizzy. I might collapse at this rate.” Duke Helian expressed his minor quandary, bathing in cold sweat.

Throughout their journey, Mikhail continued to wreak havoc along their path. Despite the Rounds’ complaints, they still plan to advance in this fashion ’till Mikhail exhausts his mana supply. Well, it appears like it won’t take too long because he kept on using spells that require high consumption of mana.

Aggravated by his subordinates’ grievances, Mikhail turned around to glower at them, with a side of reprimanding.

“His Majesty is not even voicing out an ounce of protest. What do you have to say about that?” The knight commander reproached his knights, akin to a teacher scolding their students of petty mischief.

The moment he articulated his statement, a confused quietude descended in their midst. The knights stared at each others’ eyes, passing the role of the speaker who’ll certainly infuriate Mikhail with the news.

Thankfully, Iophiel had the courage to accept the part, cutting some slack for the three.

“My Lord, we lost his Majesty quite a while ago.”

“What did you say?” Unable to hide his irateness, Mikhail was quick to reply to what Iophiel informed him with.

He hurriedly surveyed the location to validate. Once he affirmed the actuality that there was no Emperor in their circle, his mood became worse, evident from his unpleasant smiling visage that oozed an antagonistic aura.

During the time that they were having a conversation, an immense troop of demons and monsters abruptly appeared, encompassing the whole area; a number almost tripling the total they have encountered so far.

Withal, in this circumstance, the minions resembled an army moving beneath the orders of a superior entity; an assumption formed by the knights who were keenly watching their organized arrival.

Their hunch was proven to be true when a humanoid mannequin riding a horse stood boldly amongst the crowd.

‘What do we have here. Isn’t that our first visitor?’ Khamael thought as he delightedly studied the figure of the newcomer.

Khamael knew the ambience of meeting a demon noble; that is why he had no doubts that the individual being carried by an animal was one.

‘We have to welcome it appropriately.’

The other knights felt an alike feeling with Khamael; the sensation of lingering disrobed in the middle of a pack of predators, while there were vines wrapping around their limbs, suffocatingly constricting their movements.

“Cresco, Graal” Khamael unhesitatingly summoned his Holy Sword, stepping forward to be the first one to attack the Noble.

Graal is a long sword with a crimson red blade, installed in a golden hilt garnished with a fire agate pommel, that was decorated with patterns of lavenders on both ends of the copper red guard. The sword came flying from somewhere in the sky, putting out the fire that Mikhail’s sword created once it landed on the ground.

The knight picked up his weapon that embedded itself in the dirt to get a good grip on it. Consequently, he gazed his target with the most sinister glints in his orbs.

“It’s time for my revenge.”