Chapter 1302
Five grand banners billow against the backdrop of the fading crimson twilight.
Leading the way was the Sarion Kingdom, heading a coalition of central-southern realms and prominent noble houses that marched toward the crowds, radiating an overwhelming and sinister pressure.
"Wait... what?"
"What is happening!"
"That’s the Sarion Kingdom, the Bellucia family, and the Ropels Kingdom. All the regional powers have assembled..."
"What business do they have here in Winten?"
The civilians who had come to seek an audience with Sage Doraen felt their throats go dry, watching the approach of the international banners.
"Hold on! Those aren't merely foot soldiers!"
"Look, it's the high nobility. No—the King himself has arrived!"
"The representative from the Belsia House is their patriarch. Even Mareks, their most renowned blade, is in attendance..."
"This is insane! Are they starting a world war?"
The inhabitants of Winten were struck with terror seeing the five supreme leaders appearing in person. Beads of cold sweat rolled down their faces as they instinctively recoiled.
"Make way!"
A veteran knight slammed his massive blade into the earth and let out a deafening shout. Clad in plate armor bearing the royal crest, he served as the commander of the Sarion Kingdom's elite guard.
Gooooooo!
He was not the only one. Famed knights and masters from every faction, legends known throughout the continent, stepped forward. They unleashed the crushing weight of their cultivated martial prowess.
Kugugugugugu!
In the space where thousands had gathered for the Sage, the very ground began to tremble, heaving as if a subterranean monster were stirring beneath the surface.
"Gah..."
"Ugh!"
"I... I can't catch my breath..."
Those standing nearest to the advancing knights turned ashen, choking on the thick, suffocating aura being projected.
"Unbelievable. How many times does this make? They’ve certainly brought a crowd this time," Krein remarked with a weary sigh, clearly exhausted by the repetition.
"I gave up on keeping count after the tenth encounter..." Dorian added, waving a hand dismissively as if the spectacle was nothing more than a nuisance.
"It’s a cliché, but let’s get into our formation," Burren said, slowly calming his breath as his fingers twitched with tension.
"Are those puppets going to challenge us?" Martha licked her lips, her eyes flashing with a desire for combat rather than a quiet resolution.
"Phew..." Runaan remained stoic, calmly rolling her wrists to stay limber.
"There will be positive developments upon our return," Raon noted. He remained entirely unfazed by the arrival of the Sarion King and the other sovereigns. He simply watched the approaching figures with a cool gaze.
"He wants us to take care of this ourselves, it seems."
"Fine by me! Let’s move!"
Just as Burren and Martha prepared to intercept the incoming warriors.
"Halt!"
Count Asak stepped into the path, his jaw tight with nerves. He took the lead as if he had naturally become the Sage’s personal protector.
"This land is Winten, not Sarion or Bellucia! Your titles carry no weight here!" Asak roared, demanding to know if they intended to trigger a war. Despite being outmatched in rank and strength, his resolve was firmer than any man present.
"How dare a mere count address us with such insolence?" The King of Sarion stepped forward, his eyes dull and hollow beneath his golden crown. He scowled at Asak's defiance.
"Even if you are Sarion's monarch, here in Winten—"
"We have already secured the consent of Winten’s sovereign." A pale, middle-aged man stepped out from behind the King, wearing a thin, mocking smirk. It was the head of the Bellucia family, who looked down on Asak with pitying contempt.
"That... that cannot be true..." Asak’s voice faltered, stunned by the betrayal of his own king.
"If you have a grievance, take it up with your own ruler. Now, move!" The King of Ropels shoved Asak aside, marching forward. "We have come to prune the weed your king was too cowardly to pull." He gestured to his knights to commence the operation.
"His Majesty allowed this?"
"What is the meaning of this?"
"I don't care! They're coming for the Sage!"
The locals were horrified by their king’s complicity, yet they braced themselves to stand between the invaders and Raon.
"Heuuk..."
"The pressure... it’s different..."
"I can't breathe!"
"They’ll kill us if we don’t move..."
Being largely commoners, they could not withstand the spiritual weight for long. Many collapsed or retreated, gasping for air.
"We have to hold..."
"My legs won't obey..."
"My skull feels like it's cracking..."
"What is this magic?"
Even the most stubborn among them were forced back, plagued by sudden physical agony and mental strain.
"Move!"
"Stay in my way and lose your head!"
The five coalitions, hollowed out and manipulated by Archangel Sariel, moved in a coordinated phalanx of royalty and steel. They cut through the crowd toward Raon like a heavy plow through dry grass.
Conversely, the people Raon had won over with kindness were scattered by the sheer momentum of the elites. They tried to resist, but one by one, they lost consciousness or fell in a heap, their vitality seemingly siphoned away.
"Let's go," Burren said, discarding his ceremonial spear and drawing his true blade.
"Finally, a chance to actually do something!" Martha said, grinning at the prospect of the hunt.
[Stay where you are. For now...]
Raon’s mental transmission—no, the very resonance of his spirit—echoed in their minds. He gave a slight, amused nod.
[A far more captivating show is about to begin.]
'Predictable.'
Archangel Sariel watched with a sneer as the puppet kings trampled over the peasants like dead leaves.
'Utterly helpless.'
The humans currently before him were not like the high-born vessels he usually took; they were insignificant pests.
'Just a mountain of refuse.'
Unlike the nobles who steered the course of history, these commoners had no impact on the world, regardless of their numbers. They were waste products of existence.
'And the one who leads this trash...'
Sariel’s lip curled as he looked at the man the world called a Sage.
'Cowering in the dark.'
The so-called Sage appeared paralyzed, seemingly overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events.
'I suspected a hidden depth, but he is merely drowning in panic.'
Using his divine influence, Sariel read the man’s thoughts. The Sage radiated anxiety and confusion, seemingly baffled that his "followers" couldn't protect him against true authority.
'Nothing but a fool blessed with a few tricks.'
He had once thought a man who could break his charms and solve deep-seated problems might be a threat, but he was wrong. The man was a child playing with powers he didn't understand.
'Pathetic. To waste a life protecting such vermin.'
Sariel popped a piece of high-quality chocolate into his mouth and walked up to Sage Doraen. Surrounded by his human shields, he was untouchable.
"Stand up for me, you lot."
With a flick of his chin, the people who had been cowed by the nobles rose to their feet. However, their eyes were no longer on the Sage; they were fixed on Sariel.
'So simple.'
He possessed the power to dominate any human caught in emotional turmoil. Even the followers the Sage had cultivated would eventually bow to him.
"Lift your head."
Sariel gestured toward the Sage, who sat with his head bowed low.
"I want to see the face of failure."
At his command, knights moved to haul the Sage to his feet.
"You and I may share similar talents, but the humans I command rule the world. The ones you cherish are worthless insects." Sariel chuckled, twisting his hand in the air. "You have lost."
With a mocking laugh, he reached out and tore the hood away from the Sage’s face.
Whoooosh!
Beneath the tattered cloth, piercing crimson eyes flared, cutting through the gloom. It was not Sage Doraen, but Raon Zieghart who stared back at the Archangel.
"You..."
Sariel’s jaw dropped. Raon’s eyes were calm and steady, completely contradicting the "fear" Sariel thought he had sensed.
"Lost, you say?"
Raon offered a faint, cold smile and stood up. As he rose, the royalty and knights who had been holding him jerked their hands away as if they had been scorched by a furnace.
"What exactly did I lose?"
As Raon gestured, a warm, purifying breeze descended from the heavens, sweeping across the clearing.
"A soul's worth is never measured by its social standing."
As his deep resonance traveled on the wind, something shifted.
Whoaaaaaaa!
The spirits of everyone Raon had touched—the grateful, the hopeful, and the respectful—surged as one. Their collective will rose like a tide, crashing against and erasing the oppressive aura of the noble coalition.
"Wh-what is this feeling..."
"Why are these peasants..."
"Back off! You filth!"
The kings and lords were horrified. The people who had been under Sariel’s sway were now rallying behind Raon with a terrifying intensity. The nobles began to pale.
"Commoners! How dare you!"
"Die!"
Revolted by the defiance of the "lowly," the knights swung their blades with murderous intent.
Claaaang!
Their strikes never landed. The Light Wind Palace Swordsmen intercepted every blow, ensuring not a single civilian was harmed.
"How dare we? Look in a mirror!"
"Your breath stinks of arrogance."
Martha snorted as she crushed a knight’s helmet, while Burren sneered, his blade ending the life of a charging noble.
Swoooosh!
Runaan, expressionless as ever, unleashed a wave of frost from her sword, freezing the momentum of the attackers.
"You... you wretched human..."
Sariel realized that Raon was a being far beyond the title of a mere "Sage." He ground his teeth in fury.
"What sorcery is this!" he screamed, unable to process his sudden loss of control.
"It isn't sorcery."
Raon raised his eyes, glowing with the brilliance of the sun, and unsheathed Heavenly Drive.
"Your soul was simply too brittle compared to mine."
"Arrogance! You are a mere mortal!"
Sariel moved to unfurl his celestial wings, refusing to admit defeat.
Swaaaaaash!
Before a single feather could manifest, a silver streak of light flashed upward, bisecting both Sariel’s physical form and his very essence.
"This, too..."
Raon looked down at the Archangel’s wide, shocked eyes and gave a sharp, imperious tilt of his chin.
"...is the inevitable outcome."
