Tale of the Fake Hero

Chapter 6

Twenty years ago.

The Abyss, which had ravaged the entire continent under the name of the "Black Summer."

Through that upheaval, humanity realized that they could not win against the demons in a direct confrontation.

Therefore, humanity enlisted the help of the dwarves to construct a "Wide-Area Fortress System."

Its name was the Inferno Line.

The iron fortress line was built north of the Bellisor River, dividing the Old Republic's territory into eastern, southern, and western regions.

Though it had the structural limitation of abandoning the southern territories below the river, the Inferno Line brought four years of peace in the face of Uruk's blitzkrieg.

In other words, the battles during the first four years of the war were all stained by the defensive and offensive battles along this Inferno Line.

Camilla’s White Skull Corps had also been deployed to the central-western front of the Inferno Line, a place always mentioned when talking about the fierce battlefields of the early war.

“Concentrated bombardment! Don’t let those Uruk bastards cross the river!”

Following the artillery commander’s order, dozens of steam cannons aimed at the river roared, pushing back with each blast.

The shells struck the ships, shattering hulls and sending up towering splashes of water, but only for a moment. Soon, the shells bounced off a dark blue barrier that stretched across the sky.

The faces of the observers who confirmed the battlefield situation in the middle of the river through their binoculars turned pale.

“Enemy barrier confirmed... The concentrated bombardment was blocked!”

The flag fluttering at the vanguard displayed a white eye on a dark blue background.

Beneath that flag, an old Uruk sat cross-legged, floating serenely in the air.

He was Dudygal, the chieftain of the Holdrim Clan, one of the twenty-one High Tark clans of the Uruk.

“Fire, keep firing! Until that barrier breaks!”

“No, sir! The barrier doesn’t even have a crack!”

Camilla, who was watching the skirmish from the hill, clicked her tongue.

“Idiots, they’re just wasting shells. Their barrier can’t be broken with ordinary artillery.”

Johann sighed softly.

“Holdrim Clan... Looks like the High Tark are finally taking the lead in breaking through the Inferno Line.”

Holdrim, a word meaning "Black Star."

Those who gained wisdom from the stars were famous for allowing even their regular warriors to use dark magic.

It was not a pleasant thought.

Typically, Uruk society was divided into shamans and warriors, but they wielded both powers simultaneously.

Led by Holdrim, eight clans had united, and their numerous warships were already approaching the riverbank behind Holdrim’s barrier.

The number of those warriors was about twenty thousand, while the defenders of Fortress No. 7 barely numbered eight thousand.

The reality was an overwhelmingly disadvantageous situation.

“They’re landing! The enemy is landing!”

As soon as the prow of the first wave of ships struck the riverbank breakwater, the Uruk warriors leapt out with a roar.

Leading the charge was a great honor among the Uruk, reserved for the highest-ranking warriors within their caste system.

“Riflemen, ready! Fire!”

Even under a hail of bullets, the Uruk used the bodies of their fallen comrades as shields and climbed the fortress walls.

Their first objective was the artillery batteries protruding from the fortress.

Humanity needed to drive the Uruk back before the artillery fell, while the Uruk had to neutralize the cannons to support their main force’s landing.

With such opposing objectives converging on a single place, a fierce battle was inevitable.

“U-Ha!”

The Uruk’s laughter-filled battle cry.

The human soldiers defending the artillery were sliced into chunks, their brains splattered, and fragments of bone scattered.

And then—

Schwing...

Amidst the bloody chaos, a sharp metallic sound cut through the air.

Even in this maddening turmoil, the cry of the blade was so clear it was chilling.

Standing at the source of that sound was a boy, his jet-black hair swaying gently in the breeze.

“Asu-dubari (Who are you)?”

The Uruk, holding a corpse crushed into a bloody pulp, sneered at the human kid’s eyes. In that instant—

A flash.

The boy’s blade drew a lightning-fast arc.

He severed the sneering Uruk’s head.

Pierced the heart of the Uruk behind him.

Deflected the axes closing in from both sides with his scabbard, slicing off the wielders' wrists.

“...?!”

“...?!”

“...?!”

Feeling bewildered meant exposing a gap. The boy cut down those who stared blankly at him.

One by one.

Steadily.

Like harvesting a field, without rushing.

In the path he carved, drenched in Uruk blood and slipping on the crimson puddles—

He cut, cut, cut, and cut again.

Where the boy passed, a path of blood, bone fragments, and marrow was left behind.

As the warriors, momentarily stunned by the bloody spectacle, came to their senses and charged at the boy, bullets ripped through their heads.

“Ha! Bullets suit the assholes better than blades!”

The riflemen from the long rifle line. Amidst their covering fire, Kaisen, soaked in blood, looked beyond the red-soaked world.

‘An enemy. The leader of the vanguard?’

His appearance was anything but ordinary.

He seemed like a cunning beast, clad in the ceremonial robes worn only by the high-ranking warriors of the Holdrim Clan.

When he muttered a wicked incantation, a dark mist of resentment spread.

“W-What the hell is this guy...!”

“Shoot him! Shoot him so he can’t chant!”

“I-It’s not working!”

When the black mist clung to the skin, flesh and fat melted into a viscous ooze, exposing the grotesque bones beneath.

“Wahahahahaha! Weak! Pathetic humans!”

The moment the boy saw him, he was already sprinting across the battlefield.

He deflected the axes flying at him with his tachi and kicked off the wall to avoid the mist of resentment that surged like a tidal wave.

Then, he sheathed his sword.

Drawing the blade behind his head, he tensed his muscles to their absolute limit.

Finally, he manifested a Mana Chain in his right hand and a Mana Heart in his left.

This sequence wrapped the sword and its scabbard in a chain of magic sharper than any edge in this world.

—Tenfold Cross Blade, Fourth Form: Release.

The Tenfold Cross Blade was a sword technique of connections.

When starting a chain, the four basic forms—Circular Guard, Piercing Strike, Blunt Strike, and Release—were utilized.

However, the only basic form Kaisen could and had to use for chaining was Release.

—Tenfold Cross Blade, Tenth Form: Cross Decapitation.

The moment Kaisen landed, the force of the Release amplified the technique's power, carving a cross-shaped cut into the Uruk warrior’s body.

When the iron blade cut through the flesh to open a path, the magic blade behind it exploded the internal organs.

The corpse, once filled with organs and blood, collapsed onto the rampart in four pieces.

“Whoa, did you see that?”

“Damn, a single strike!”

That became the turning point.

The soldiers, emboldened by the boy's battle, began to push the Uruk off the fortress walls and reclaim the artillery batteries.

“Kaisen, Uncle Jin will handle things here, so you go to the Lady!”

Was there even a need to go there...

Thanks to Johann, the Empire’s greatest Frost Mage, the river’s surface had already turned into a frozen wasteland.

On the bright blue ice, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang—ice spikes shot up wildly, shattering the frontlines and skewering the Uruk like kebabs.

Camilla led Eltoram and the beastkin soldiers across the chaotic ice.

She did not hurry.

As if there was no need to waste her stamina to close the distance, she merely walked forward, and no one could stop her advance.

Any Uruk who stood in her way died six at a time from a single slash.

Every time the blade of the Supreme Holy Sword Aradamantel swung, bodies with severed necks wobbled and fell, and those with torsos cut in half screamed in agony.

The blood splattered across the ice quickly froze, turning into crimson shards.

Finally, Chieftain Dudygal descended onto the ice from the prow of his ship, still seated cross-legged and levitating.

—The strongest sorcerer of the Holdrim Clan, Chieftain Dudygal. They say he can freely manipulate lightning, attraction, repulsion, and gravity.

Kaisen recalled Johann’s words from before the battle, and how Camilla had said she would handle him.

‘He's a High Tark too, huh. I heard his rank is quite high.’

When Dudygal struck the ground with his hammer, jet-black lightning raged, shattering the ice and sending up towering sprays of water.

One, two, three, four.

Camilla waited until the successive strikes targeted her, then launched herself forward, leaving deep footprints behind.

‘She’s fast. So fast, it’s hard to follow with my eyes. Not even close to my level.’

The sphere summoned by Dudygal's dark magic emitted waves that manipulated gravity and attraction, but it couldn’t catch her movements, which surpassed the limits of speed.

There wasn’t even time to admire her.

The battle ended before he could even think of it.

At first, he couldn’t comprehend the beginning and end of her strike. It was only later, through reflection, that he could vaguely understand.

“Cheolwon, Crimson Silk Annihilation Fog Slash.”

Cheolwon, the ultimate technique only a Supreme Holy Sword could use.

It began when Camilla sheathed Aradamantel in its pure white scabbard.

As the vivid crimson currents and particles began to roar fiercely around the scabbard—

Draw.

Her blade cut the horizon faster than sound.

Swish—

The sword was so fast that only the afterimage of light bouncing off its blade allowed the trajectory to be traced.

Only when Camilla resheathed Aradamantel did the sound of the slash belatedly follow.

Only after the metallic ring of the slash struck their ears did those who were cut seem to realize they had been cut.

Dudygal's body, dozens of ships, and hundreds of Uruk—all were sliced along the path of that draw, as lightly as tearing a sheet of paper.

─────Thud.

Amidst the shudder that shook his entire body, Kaisen stared at Aradamantel, as if bewitched.

‘Mother’s sword.’

His mother must have fought with that blade as well.

And Camilla, having learned swordsmanship from her, wielded that power perfectly.

As the lead Feiquaria, following in his mother's footsteps.

‘Will a day like that ever come for me?’

Probably not.

Men could not become Feiquaria, and he was not Camilla’s disciple.

***

That afternoon, the Uruk retreated.

No matter how much they resisted, it was useless against the overwhelming martial prowess of the lead Feiquaria.

With Kaisen’s fierce efforts reclaiming the artillery, the bombardment resumed, and without Dudygal, the Uruk couldn’t deploy a barrier strong enough to repel the shells.

Thus, the undefeated White Skull Corps once again created a legendary tale of valor.

The corps suffered only 127 wounded and just 35 dead.

The fortress’s casualties were only 2,000, whereas the demon army lost 8,000—four times as many—and fled.

“And here’s the kicker—Kaisen took the head of one of Holdrim’s top bastards! I’m telling you, it was just a single strike!”

When Jin raised his beer mug, the soldiers of the corps cheered and clinked their glasses.

Kaisen felt uncomfortable in this situation.

To boast in front of greatness—compared to Camilla’s feats, what he had done seemed utterly insignificant.

Eltoram, as if sensing his feelings, slapped Kaisen’s back with his thickly furred hand.

“Lady Camilla is a Feiquaria. A Hero. Just thinking of competing with her is an insult.”

“That’s not it.”

“Not it, my ass! I can smell a lie, you little brat.”

“......”

“You don’t understand. You have no idea what she sacrifices to display such strength.”

Indeed, he didn’t know.

Looking back now, he should have hoped he would never learn the truth.

That a Feiquaria drew out superhuman strength by sacrificing their own lifespan, and that Camilla did not have much time left.

“Today, you overdid it, Camilla.”

Far from the victory’s commotion.

In a grassy field where the volcanic ash had yet to invade and the bright moon still shone in the sky, Camilla looked up.

“Wolf.”

“To think you used Cheolwon, the ultimate secret of the Holy Sword... Was that really necessary?”

“Of course it was. Should I have gone easy on a High Tark? Besides, taking the initiative was important this time.”

“Why?”

“Something felt off. No matter how I looked at it, it didn’t seem like they were really trying to break through Fortress No. 7.”

“Then?”

“Hmm... It felt like they had another objective. That’s why I had to clear them out quickly. Cheolwon was just a show of force.”

“Camilla, Holdrim is a High Tark. Not just some new blood either—a clan with deep traditions. Are you suggesting they used them as bait for a diversion?”

“I don’t think their main force was here... Something felt off, no matter how I looked at it.”

“You mean the chieftain handed the clan over to his successor and came here alone?”

“I’m not sure.”

“No, Camilla. Is it not just that you’ve become so strong, like the Commander, that it felt underwhelming? It seemed to me that you overexerted yourself to show Kaisen your ‘newly developed’ Cheolwon.”

“Demonstration, my ass.”

Camilla shrugged.

Wolf sat beside her, gently stroking the side of his friend’s hair, which had turned completely white.

“How much time do you think you have left?”

“Not a damn thing.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Even a little would be fine—if only she had more time.

Enough time to teach that pathetic brat perfectly, to guide him a bit more, just as her master had done for her.

But her body no longer had any time left.

Soon, the moment they had to part would arrive.