Chapter 69: Calamity of the Past

Cakor

To the southwest of the capital lies the military city of Cakor.

Cakor could be considered a satellite city of the capital.

It was also the region where Princess Amelia and Natalia, the wielder of the Seven Star Radiant Sword, resided.

At Cakor’s training grounds, Amelia was immersed in her practice.

Natalia watched with satisfaction as Amelia subdued a dozen barbarian soldiers using nothing but pure swordsmanship.

“Your skills improve noticeably with each passing day,” Natalia remarked, smiling. “In his youth, even His Majesty the Emperor possessed swordsmanship of this caliber.”

Amelia’s face twisted in mild displeasure as she wiped her sweat-soaked platinum blonde hair with a towel.

“Are you saying I resemble my mother?” she asked sharply.

“Frankly, yes,” Natalia replied.

‘To resemble her mother? Was she being compared to that exhibitionist?’

“Should I take that as a compliment? At least I don’t wander around the imperial palace half-dressed like she does,” Amelia retorted, shrugging.

After all, even as a member of the imperial family, one had to maintain dignity.

No matter how hot it got, Amelia would never walk around scantily clad, let alone wear something as revealing as what tavern maids donned.

‘Was that what being an emperor meant?’ She could just as well work at a tavern.

Amelia thought bitterly, ‘At least she still looks young enough to pull it off, but imagine her doing that as a wrinkled old woman. Absolutely horrifying.’

The thought alone made Amelia grimace.

Because of her mother’s behavior, Amelia found it embarrassing to even lift her head in public.

And recently, there was news that her foolish younger brother had gotten himself entangled with a woman and caused a scandal, tarnishing the imperial family’s reputation even further.

“Haha, well, I, too, often dress lightly at home when it’s hot,” Natalia quipped.

“Even so, emperors should have some dignity. By the way, what is that note you’re holding?” Amelia asked, pointing at the paper Natalia was carrying.

“It’s a request for assistance from Ashtar,” Natalia replied.

“From Ashtar? That place? A request for assistance?”

The idea of Ashtar requesting help seemed absurd.

A land with powerful magic divisions and elite knights—what could possibly drive them to ask for aid?

If Ashtar, with its tens of thousands of troops, was calling for assistance, then the matter had to be extraordinary.

“Yes. It seems one of the Four Heavenly Kings, Pector, has appeared,” Natalia explained.

“Pector? Then it would be fitting for you to go. A battle of swords, after all,” Amelia suggested.

The Radiant Sword was reputed to be the empire’s finest swordsman.

This was why Amelia had taken Natalia as her mentor.

A confrontation between her master and one of the Four Heavenly Kings, both masters of the blade, was undoubtedly intriguing.

But Natalia shook her head.

“The opponent is one of the Four Heavenly Kings. You, Princess, must remain here,” Natalia insisted.

“I was raised mostly outside the palace anyway. What’s stopping me from getting a glimpse of one of the Demon King’s Four Heavenly Kings? From what I’ve heard, Pector is known to be a man of honor,” Amelia argued.

Indeed, Pector was reputed to be honorable. Natalia, having fought him herself, knew this well.

But there was one major issue.

“I, too, would like to give you a valuable experience, Princess, but—”

“But?” Amelia pressed.

“His Imperial Highness, the former Crown Prince, is currently on an inspection tour. Should anything happen, it would be problematic. You must stay and guard this place,” Natalia concluded.

Clicking her tongue, Amelia muttered, “That frog in the well had to pick now of all times for a tour?”

“He’s likely trying to win the hearts of the common people to reclaim his position as Crown Prince,” Natalia speculated.

“What’s so appealing about the powerless imperial throne? He could’ve just waited, and it would’ve fallen into his lap anyway,” Amelia scoffed.

Amelia preferred roaming outside rather than staying in the capital.

When controversies about her becoming the Crown Princess had arisen, she had been far away.

Even if her brother Aslan continued his foolish antics, it was inevitable that the throne would ultimately pass to him.

‘Why bother with unnecessary effort?’

“It seems the inspection tour was suggested by a woman—Yuria, the secretary of the student council,” Natalia added. “Lady Olivia of Ashtar is accompanying them, as well.”

“Lady Olivia?” Amelia’s eyes softened at the mention of her old friend.

“Come to think of it, I should meet Olivia someday,” Amelia mused.

“You two were close?” Natalia asked, surprised.

It seemed improbable that Amelia, who had grown up dueling and honing her swordsmanship outdoors, would be friends with the sheltered young lady of Ashtar.

But perhaps it made sense—they might have learned from each other.

“Well, we’re as close as you and the other Seven Stars,” Amelia replied with a smirk.

Thinking of the other Seven Stars, Amelia realized she didn’t recall much about her relationships with them.

“Ah, then you’ve had physical sparring matches with her as well,” Natalia teased.

“Not quite like that,” Amelia corrected, chuckling.

Beating up a noble lady would have been unthinkable.

Their disputes had been limited to verbal spats, and those were years ago.

Recently, Olivia had grown so obsessed with Aslan that Amelia had barely been in contact with her.

‘That was all five years ago,’ Amelia thought.

She suspected something unusual had happened to Olivia back then.

‘Who could have imagined it involved succubi?’

Now Olivia was even a saintess.

“At any rate, since His Highness is insistent on continuing his inspection tour, I’ll need to head out quickly. You, Princess, stay here and keep watch,” Natalia instructed.

“Yes, yes. I’ll await news of your victory,” Amelia replied with a sigh.

“It’s not such a grand matter. Farewell for now,” Natalia said, leaving the training grounds.

After changing into fresh clothes, Amelia returned to her practice.

***

Near Mount Karchem

The hills near the trading city of Karchem had seen an abrupt cessation of human and animal activity in recent days.

The reason was clear.

A strange aura emanated from the mountain, making it an unapproachable place.

Local residents didn’t care much, as the mountain wasn’t frequented anyway.

But the disappearance of animals from its vicinity was not a good omen.

“Ugh, it was unpleasant before, but now it feels even worse,” muttered a villager gathering wild herbs as they hurriedly descended the mountain.

The oppressive, unsettling aura that clung to the mountain made people steer clear of it entirely.

But within the mountain lay something far from ordinary.

A presence that invoked despair in all who came near.

Its name was Pector.

Once, long ago, it had been a calamity, leaving despair in its wake among countless humans.

Yes, at least until a few years ago.

Perhaps, if not for that man, Pector would still be a calamity.

He had been tasked by the Demon King to destroy kingdoms and assault the empire.

But his rampage had been halted by a single man.

“Not even the empire, huh? Did I come here for nothing?” Pector muttered, laughing bitterly.

The man who had stopped him had also killed the Demon King.

As one of the Four Heavenly Kings, Pector should have lamented the Demon King’s death, yet he couldn’t.

The man had been strong, just as Pector had suspected.

For this reason, he refused to believe in the man’s death.

Pector thought grimly, ‘I cannot accept that he is gone. Who else could kill me if not him?’

‘A Half-Baked Hero Who Can’t Even Properly Wield the Holy Sword?’

‘A mere Seven Star, strong for a human but not enough to rival the Four Heavenly Kings?’

‘Or the tens of thousands of soldiers the so-called greatest empire of the continent could muster?’

No.

They might struggle, but in the end, they wouldn’t be able to kill me.

That man is the only one who can.

***

Their first meeting was unusual.

Pector had marched to Farcal Fortress, the kingdom’s stronghold, under the orders of fate to deal with the Hero.

The fortress was bathed in the blood of the kingdom’s soldiers.

Although reinforcements were coming from the empire, he thought they would be nothing more than a few thousand ragtag troops, barely better than the kingdom’s forces.

But to his surprise, the kingdom had sent a Hero’s party to reclaim Farcal.

Pector was intrigued.

The Hero wielding the Holy Sword, Eugene.

Rumors said he commanded the power of light and had never failed to slay his opponent.

‘Perhaps he’ll provide a challenge,’ Pector thought.

If this is fate, then so be it. Either the Hero dies, or I do. It’s always one or the other.

The Demon King’s forces gave humans a faint glimmer of hope only to crush it—a slow and deliberate torment.

“Hero. State your name,” Pector demanded.

“I am Eugene, the Hero. The hope of humanity who will defeat you,” the Hero declared boldly.

But the lethargy emanating from this so-called Hero was strange.

It wasn’t the confidence of power but a sheer, lazy apathy.

‘Could this be the composure of a truly strong person?’ Pector wondered.

But no, it was a misplaced hope.

Clang!

“Urgh!”

Eugene was flung back after a single clash of swords.

The Holy Sword barely allowed him to withstand Pector’s overwhelming power.

Its divine aura resisted the despair of Pector’s strikes, but Eugene could not fight back.

‘Why would the Holy Sword choose someone like him?’ Pector mused.

If this is fate, then this generation’s Hero is a failure.

The hope of humanity will perish, and the Demon King’s forces will once again sweep across the continent.

And then, it happened.

A priestess, an elf, and a man arrived on the scene.

The priestess and elf immediately tended to the injured Hero, but Pector’s focus was on the man.

“So, the Hero was a decoy,” Pector muttered.

While he had been fixated on the Hero, while he’d drawn his blade with the expectation of a fight, the man before him had annihilated his army that had occupied Farcal Fortress.

The stench of blood clung to him, unlike his companions.

“This idiot… I didn’t expect him to fall without even holding his ground,” the man said casually, watching Eugene being helped away.

‘What gives him such confidence?’ Pector wondered.

Using the Hero as bait—this man was no ordinary individual.

Pector could see it in his eyes.

Perhaps the Demon King’s prophecy was not about the Hero but this man.

“Are you a mage? Magic won’t work on me,” Pector warned.

“Or a swordsman? Swordsmanship won’t work on me either.”

The man smirked as if taunting him.

‘How intriguing,’ Pector thought. This man faced him with confidence, unlike the Hero.

“What is your name?” Pector asked, genuinely curious.

“I’m Noah, from the Land of Ruin,” the man replied.

‘The Land of Ruin?’ The land of the Godslayers.

“Noah… From the Land of Ruin. Then you’re no ordinary man,” Pector acknowledged.

This might be a worthy opponent.

Noah created a sword of pure mana, its energy dense and concentrated.

Finally, things made sense.

In the Hero’s party, the Hero was just a figurehead.

The rumors had always belonged to someone else.

“Let’s end this quickly. I’m busy,” Noah declared.

“Sword Magic?” Pector noted.

Sword Magic—the unique art of the Godslayers.

‘A worthy opponent indeed,’ Pector thought as he felt a shiver run through him.

For the first time, his hands trembled with anticipation.

Noah vanished and reappeared in front of him, swinging the mana blade.

Clang!

Sparks and shards of mana flew as Pector’s sword clashed against Noah’s.

Pector’s despair-laden strikes were met and neutralized by Noah’s concentrated mana.

After a single clash, Pector felt his hands tremble.

For the first time, someone had matched him in pure strength.

Noah’s power wasn’t just mana; it felt like the strength of his very soul.

“You shouldn’t forget—I’m a mage by trade,” Noah said with a sly grin.

He teleported and reappeared behind Pector, blending Sword Magic and teleportation seamlessly.

For the first time, Pector felt genuine alarm.

Even in stamina, Noah was conserving energy while relentlessly pressing the attack.

Clang! Clang!

Pector could only parry the unrelenting strikes.

‘A mage like this exists in the Hero’s party?’

“You don’t underestimate me just because I’m a mage, huh?” Noah teased.

“True strength transcends roles. You’re using magic and swordsmanship in perfect harmony—how extraordinary,” Pector admitted.

Despite his massive frame and monstrous strength, Pector couldn’t dominate this opponent.

He tried to read Noah’s movements, but the man was unpredictable.

‘From above?’ Pector thought.

“Below,” Noah said with a smirk.

Pector barely blocked an upward slash from beneath him.

‘How can someone move like this?’

The mage’s assaults were relentless, and for the first time in years, Pector’s heart raced with excitement.

But Noah wasn’t done.

“You shouldn’t forget who I am,” Noah said as a magic circle formed in his hands, burning bright.

‘Is he casting without incantation?’ Pector wondered.

Yet Pector smirked.

Magic wouldn’t work on him.

He was immune to elemental magic.

But then, Noah’s chilling smile widened.

“Falling Meteor,” Noah uttered softly.

The heavens quaked as a meteor descended, shattering the battlefield.