Grandson of the Holy Emperor is a Necromancer

Chapter 151: 082. Aslan’s Saviour -3 (Part One)

**

“It’s been a while since I’ve entered a warzone.”

An old man kitted out in brilliant golden armour grinned deeply.

He turned his head to the side and asked the head of the Order of the White Cross, Charlotte Heraiz, “How did you find the war so far, Charlotte?”

“It was horrible, my lord.”

“And that’s why I keep saying you’re still insufficient. You see, this thing called the battlefield is…” Oscal Baldur unsheathed his sword, and while smirking away, finished the rest of his sentence. “…Something to be enjoyed.”

“…”

“You will feel yourself growing stronger as you break through one battlefield after another. You will never forget the ecstasy of those moments. And most importantly of all, only when you are carrying out the order of the Imperial Family do you truly sense the purpose of your life.” Oscal quietly closed his eyes. “When you act according to his majesty’s noble commands, the sense of rapture will wash over you.”

He pulled at the reins of the horse he was riding on, the horse came to a stop. The impressive army of the Theocratic Empire also halted its march behind him.

“The great one’s commands are the same as the oracle from the gods.”

His words rang out within the suddenly-still battlefield.

He narrowed his eyes and smiled wryly. “The great one is the proxy who serves the gods. He is the holy emperor appointed by the gods themselves. As such, we the members of the clergy must absolutely obey his every command. However…”

Oscal’s wry smile was suddenly wiped away. Rage and hatred quickly replaced his previous expression as a choking murderous aura gushed out from his entire figure.

“…I failed to carry out the command his majesty had bestowed unto me.”

Divinity began flooding out from his body. With his figure at the centre, the stormy winds of divinity whipped out.

All of the Paladins and Priests paid attention to Oscal’s next words.

“There cannot be another mistake. I shall faithfully carry out the commands issued by his majesty the Holy Emperor. If the enemy surrenders, then I shall accept it, but if they don’t… Only death awaits for them.”

Oscal Baldur glared at the distant Aslan army. He clenched his teeth so hard that blood leaked out from the gums.

He then raised his left hand, and at the same time, blares of the warhorns resounded out. The war drums’ beats steadily matched the rhythm.

Boom, boooom, boooom!

That was the signal to urge the other side to surrender.

However, the Aslan army didn’t display any response whatsoever. That was their own way of declaring their intention to not surrender.

The Holy Emperor did say this – that all those who refused to surrender should receive the gift of death.

“Oh, the god of war Heim.”

Divinity began rapidly gathering on Oscal’s blade.

“Grant this servant the strength to punish the heretics.”

He then raised his sword high up in the air to unleash a tidal wave of divinity from the blade.

“Raise the flags.”

When he gave the order, the imperial army’s flags went up simultaneously.

“Advance!”

The sounds of the warhorns reverberated throughout the sky.

The cavalry atop the horses gripped the reins tightly.

The Paladins breathing out heavily under the helms in anticipation unsheathed their swords.

The Priests wearing robes over their whole body raised their heads higher.

“Execute… all the heretics!”

Oscal held the reins in one hand, and swung the sword in the other.

He and his ride broke into a sprint.

Once their lead began sprinting forward, the cavalry also started dashing forward and grouped up around him.

The ground beneath rumbled as the riders got into a wedge formation. As brilliant rays of light reflected off their gleaming armours, the Paladins and Priests all roared out in unison.

“It’s the sword king! Oscal Baldur!”

“Bloody hell! All of you, follow me!”

By then, the feudal lords had also finished preparing for the battle. Aslan’s own mounted troops gathered around the lords to move out.

“For the glory of Aslan!”

The feudal lords whipped their horses and rushed forward and the mounted troops followed them close by. Awakened demonic energy oozed out from them.

“Oooooohhhh-!”

Two opposing camps of cavalry rushed towards each other with infantrymen following them from behind.

There were no such things as tactics or strategies. The only thought ruling their minds as their bloodshot eyes locked onto their enemies was to ‘slaughter’ the opposing side.

Divinity continued gushing out from Oscal’s sword as he tugged at the horse’s reins. His ride leapt up in the air.

“For the great Theocratic Empire-!”

Waves of divinity exploded out from his whole figure.

“For the empire-!”

“We shall slay the heretics-!”

Powerful rays of light also burst out from the Paladins’ figures. Unstoppable rays of divinity spread out in all directions.

The soldiers of Aslan had to close their eyes at that searing light. Their sight was blinded by the brilliant glare coming from the Paladins while their ears were deafened by the madness-infused roars of their enemies.

A thick smile floated up on Oscal’s lips as he began swinging his sword.

**

“Is it over?”

A man, whose whole body seemed to be in tatters, was standing tall on top of the city’s outer wall.

Bloodstains were dirtying his head while the traveller’s robe on his body was torn in various spots. In his hand was the severed head of a feudal lord he’d been bitterly fighting earlier on.

The Crown Imperial Prince, White Olfolse, stared at the distant battlefield with a pair of very wide eyes.

The Paladins bursting out in splendid light were battling the Aslan army. Every time Oscal the sword king took a swipe with his sword, the ground before him exploded and dozens upon dozens of Aslan soldiers were flung into the air.

The Aslan feudal lords tried everything to stop him, but unfortunately for them, the captains and vice captains of the Theocratic Empire’s five main forces had entered the fray by then. They gradually pushed the Aslan generals on the back foot.

From the get-go, this couldn’t even be called a battle.

The Theocratic Empire boasted individuals with overwhelming strength. On top of that, they also held the numerical advantage of such powerful beings as well. It was already inevitable that the Aslan army would suffer a comprehensive defeat before long.

“Eeeiya~, that’s pretty amazing, alright. Vice captain Sir Oscal still seems to be quite sprightly even now. I mean, he’s over one hundred years old, yet he’s still so full of energy, isn’t he?”

Something must’ve happened to the old man because he seemed to be acting crazier than usual. Despite the distance, White thought he could hear Oscal’s hearty laughter even from where he was standing.

“Besides all that…”

White shifted his gaze.

His eyes landed on the Seventh Imperial Prince, who was slumbering along in the care of a Dark Elf girl below the huge, expansive tree. He looked on at his youngest son while a complicated set of emotions danced in his mind, before shifting his gaze away once more.

King Rahamma remained collapsed and unmoving on the verdant field. His hair had turned completely white while his body now resembled a wrinkled and skinny old man. Plant stems were coiled all around him.

The Seventh Imperial Prince had defeated the one and only King Rahamma.

“…Never mind eleven, it feels like it’s been two decades since I left home.”

The boy was only seventeen years old this year. The Seventh Imperial Prince had only barely stepped into adulthood, yet not only did he survive fighting against Rahamma, he even managed to pull off a remarkable victory in the end, too.

This had to be a miracle of all miracles.

No, hang on – this was neither a miracle nor was it luck at play. Allen worked hard to become stronger, and he defeated Rahamma using his own strength.

As proof, take a look at how he utilised a bizarre power to raid and overtake this city’s fortress.

‘Still, no matter how fast one’s growth is, this is already on the level of a monster. Even more so than my father, who’s been often called the strongest Holy Emperor in history.’

Could the boy have received the grace of the gods?

A troubled expression floated up on White’s face. “Hang on. Now that I think about it, didn’t the rumour say that the Theocratic Empire developed a way to distinguish Vampires from normal people?”

For the past several thousands of years, there was no way to spot a Vampire. But for a method to do exactly that simply appeared out of nowhere…? In all honesty, that sounded pretty similar to the advent of the Saint or Saintess.

Could it be that Allen was actually a Saint?

If that was true, then White needed Allen’s assistance.

The Crown Imperial Prince looked at his son and wryly smiled. “I’m sorry, Allen. Rather than helping you, it seems that I’ll be needing your help soon, instead.”

White definitely needed Allen’s powers if he wanted to end his eleven-years-long quest to locate his ‘son’.

**

The stench of blood wafted in the air.

The knot tying her silver hair came undone, freeing up her hair strands to dance in the air. And as if to match the flickering light reflected off from her hair, the pure-white blade fleeted and danced alongside as well.

Blood sprayed all over the place every time the blade flashed past.

Aslan’s soldiers sucked in their breaths.

They saw a figure of a maiden riding on a white horse. A young girl with silver hair, kitted out in white armour while holding a white sword.

When the Aslan soldiers looked into her sharp, blood-coloured eyes, they all sensed fear while being moved by her beauty at the same time.

They looked at her and declared thus.

“It’s the White Reaper!”

Charlotte attacked with her sword.

The blade permeating in divinity’s aura slaughtered Aslan’s soldiers without mercy.

She pulled on the horse’s reins, and the reared hooves ruthlessly trampled on the soldiers below.

Her horse was called the ‘Unira’, a species of legendary warhorse that was apparently descended from the mythic creature, ‘Unicorn’.

The white horse possessing seemingly-endless stamina and overwhelming physical strength viciously neighed and galloped forward, crushing all enemy soldiers caught in its path.

Aslan’s soldiers wielded their swords and thrust forward with their spears.

“Oh, the goddess of life, Gaia.”

When she offered a prayer, divinity flooded her divine sword. As her crimson eyes glared at the enemy soldiers, she took a powerful swing.

She couldn’t even detect the sensation of cutting another human being down. Her sharp divine sword one-sidedly massacred the hapless soldiers.

Blood splattered onto her face.

“Dammit, let’s head to Evelyum!”

“We need to go to the city!”

“We have to join up with the soldiers inside the city!”

A portion of the Aslan army, a section of its mounted troops, broke off from the formation and began dashing towards Evelyum’s city gate with the giant tree standing in front of it.

“It’s the hashashins!”

“We must join up with them.”

“Hang on, what are… those? Who are those people?”

The main Aslan army, still oblivious to the events that had transpired in the battlefield, could only feel confused by what they saw.

Charlotte heard their puzzled voice and turned her head to look as well. Her view faintly opened up for the brief moment within the countless moving bodies.

And that’s when she got to see several people near the gigantic tree.

She saw a young Dark Elf girl and a slumbering boy held within that girl’s arms.

“…!”

Charlotte sucked in her breath.

There it was, the familiar face.

The person she so longed to see. Her benefactor and the saviour of her life. The Imperial Family’s Seventh Prince, the one she had been trying to find for so long while wandering through the various battlefields.

Allen Olfolse. He was right over there.

(TL: Another chapter will be released in GMT 15:00 PM.)