I Became the Martial God's Youngest Disciple

Episode 301

What was war? Many would answer differently, but Zach Harvest, the leader of Frostel and a Southern Warmage, defined it in his own way.

War was a clash of means against means. Polished power, sharp analysis, thorough preparations, improvisation, and tactics collided head-on, producing results more decisive than anything else. Win or loss, honor or notoriety, life or death all depended on the means one possessed, and the key lay in how thoroughly one could destroy the opponent's means.

This was why Zach felt a growing sense of hopelessness now. He reviewed the legion commander's displayed power, its means: the unknown gravestones, Alexa wrung to death, the resurrection and control of the dead, and the miasma that dulled even the heroes' bodies.

That was just what had been revealed. Any one of those means would be formidable, but the legion commander surely held more in reserve. By contrast, their only effective means was Mir Giant.

Zach spoke at last. "Mir Giant."

"Yes."

"How many gravestones can you block going forward?" he asked.

Mir paused briefly before replying, "All of them."

Was it a bluff? Recklessness? No, the sheer certainty in Mir's voice dispelled such doubts. Thus, he chose to believe her.

Zach started devising a plan on the assumption that Mir could stop every falling gravestone.

The legion commander stood in silence, observing.

What is this bastard thinking? Zach wondered. We have to strike first.

That was the right move. The weaker side always had to take the initiative. However, what kind of attack could possibly affect that monster? Zach suspected that even his strongest spell would achieve nothing.

At that moment of hesitation, a figure shot forward. The fluttering hat and the sight of the figure filled Zach's vision. "Inquisitor Razbet!"

Verita surged ahead while muttering, "Oh Great Baal. Your lamb desperately cries out for your blessing. Please grant me the courage to stand against the demons."

She spoke softly and made a holy sign. Then pure white light bathed her. Divine Power Release was a technique that only a very small number of inquisitors mastered. The moment it manifested, the miasma that filled the area receded for the first time.

The legion commander watched and slightly tilted its staff.

The bell rang, but nothing happened.

Only a brief moment passed before a scream erupted from the rear without any warning.

Mind domination. Zach added another of the legion commander's abilities to his list. Then he quickly scanned the battlefield to assess the conditions and effective range.

Most of those who lost control were native warriors without blessings. Based on their positions, he estimated the range to be about a 150-meter radius around the legion commander. However, it probably varied depending on each individual's resistance to the miasma.

"Those without anti-demon resistance, fall back from the commander. Warriors, withdraw!" Zach hollered.

"Y-yes!"

Zach added, "Follow Sister Razbet and attack the legion commander! Mages, erect barriers immediately! The rest of you should subdue those under its control! Understood? Do not kill them under any circumstances!"

The legion commander didn't seem to be a martial artist. First of all, it carried no conventional weapons. The only object resembling one was the staff capped with a beast skull, which it gripped tightly in its bony hands. This suggested that its true expertise lay in twisted rituals, black magic, and necromancy, which aligned perfectly with everything it had demonstrated so far.

Even amid the chaos, gravestones continued to fall from the ceiling without pause. Mir alone had to destroy them.

Giants possess unmatched endurance, yet even for Mir, stopping them all seems difficult. Can she hold out until the barrier is formed? At that thought, Zach glanced back and gritted his teeth. Most of the heroes were still standing there in a daze.

"What the hell are you doing?" he barked.

His anger finally overcame his fear as he faced those who still failed to grasp the situation. "Can't you see what is happening right now? That petite giant hero is struggling alone! The inquisitor is charging at the legion commander alone! The Corrupted members we mocked are protecting civilians!

"Is this really the pride we claim as heroes? The Hero Society has degenerated, lost the beliefs that once defined it, and become a group that pursues profit above all else! Do you want those accusations to be true?"

Zach's face flushed. It wasn't just from anger. His own words ended up cutting into him as well. The heat rising on his face was shame.

"Aren't you ashamed?" His staff trembled in his grip. He was holding it so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. "This may be a futile struggle. However, can we accept dying in vain like this? If we fall here, how will we face the captain who went ahead of us?"

Regret tightened his chest. He recalled the words he had spoken about refusing to ally with the imperial family, the mercenaries, and the inquisitors. He had never expected the incident in the north to be trivial, but he had assumed that he and the Hero Society could handle it alone. This was the result.

Zach bit his lip. There had to be a reason he survived when Feed died. There had to be.

"Even if I die... Even if we die, we must ruin the plans of those wicked church members! This is the Hero Society's mission!"

Thunderous shouts echoed from all directions in response. The enthusiasm that had vanished with the legion commander's appearance now rekindled throughout the cold cave.

Amid it all, Zach felt a stab of guilt. In the end, he ordered them to die. Even so, this wasn't the time to dwell on it.

The only hope is a short-term, decisive battle. If time drags on, we will fail.

So who held the key to victory? The mages forming the barrier? No. It wasn't him, the clumsy commander, the warriors who lost their minds at the sound of the bell, or the heroes barely holding the enemy back. Regrettably, it wasn't even Mir, who was pushing herself to the brink to shatter the gravestones.

It is the raid team.

The battle would only end when the raid team, led by the inquisitor, ended the legion commander's life.

Verita was well aware of that. She was a Colorless believer and knew something that most present didn't. Their chances of victory weren't as slim as they believed.

The legion commander thoroughly looked down on them. It likely regarded this battle as entertainment. It would prolong the game and steer events toward greater desperation. Maybe it would even give them one or two chances to take its life. Trampling on fragile hope was a demon's nature.

The fact that it was Kingarodtus' believer only reinforced Verita's conclusion. Without a temperament that relished combat, then it would've served a different demon king.

Of course, such opportunities would be narrower than a rat's hole and thinner than a thread. It could offer a fleeting opening that only it could recognize. Once it passed, it would contentedly smile to itself and call it a fair fight.

How disgusting. Verita laughed. More than a dozen heroes in the raid team, but she was the one who reached the legion commander the fastest.

Up close, it towered like a giant, at least four meters tall. Its strange aura made it look even larger.

Nevertheless, Verita didn't shrink back. The mace in her hand shone with pure white light, like a weapon wielded by a god. Its form hadn't changed at all. Just like swordsmen wrapped their blades in mana, she had wrapped the mace in divine power.

The legion commander's gaze settled on her. Its features were made of flame, so it could just be nothing more than her perception, but she felt that their eyes had met.

Then the legion commander's face seemed to loom closer. At least, this was how Verita perceived it. The blazing flames that formed its frame swelled like a wildfire and burned as if they would engulf Verita's entire body.

However, Verita's keen senses quickly recognized the truth. It is an illusion.

It was one that bordered on reality, but it remained an illusion. The pain felt real, yet Verita was unharmed. As long as her body functioned normally, pain couldn't hinder her.

The legion commander sensed this and changed its momentum again.

Dark fog exploded from beneath its tattered robe. The fog was nearly indistinguishable from miasma, and it melted the corpses around it, even changing the color of the snow and ice. Most heroes who approached would recoil in fear.

Verita smiled. She did not slow as the dark fog closed over her. Her mace crashed down onto the legion commander's head. The latter paused for a moment, as if on the verge of collapsing, but the sensation was not what Verita expected. The blow felt as though it had struck a hollow scarecrow.

"Kyaaaaack!"

At that moment, something burst from the ground: a reanimated corpse. The head was completely gone, the teeth rattled loosely, and only one eyeball remained, yet it was oddly familiar. It was Elan, the priest.

"Kill me! Kill me! Aren't you very persistent? Do you serve a cockroach demon god? Kill meeee!" Elan shouted.

This couldn't be called true resurrection. It was closer to forcing a soul into a rotting corpse and issuing commands, regardless of whether the corpse still functioned.

Naturally, there was a price to pay. Every repetition chipped away at the soul. Elan had already lost much of her sanity. Her eye rolled wildly as she charged forward, only for Verita to crush her face again with the mace.

Thus far, everything remained within expectations.

Then a voice was heard from behind the hammer. "You tooo... Let's go togetheeeeeer!"

Then dozens of tattered arms thrust up from the ground and seized Verita.

Araxad, who was closest to her, shouted urgently, "Sister Razbet!"

Dozens of hands were trying to drag Verita below the ground.

Is this the legion commander's strategy? Verita wondered.

Bound by the hands of the dead, Verita sank slowly as if into a swamp. Her eyes met those of the white-scaled lizardman, who stared at her in flustered alarm.

"I'll be back soon." Verita smiled in reassurance. Finally, she raised her right hand in a thumbs-up just before the ground swallowed her.

At last, she landed below and took in her surroundings. The place was dreadful. Rotting flesh and pooled blood littered the ground. A foul stench hung thick in the air, sharp with decay. The temperature was colder than above, and the entire scene evoked a vision of hell.

Verita's impression of this place was simple. She had wondered where the corpses were procured. Now she knew.

"You too... Now you will die... heretic inquisitor..."

"Wow." Verita turned, surprised by Elan's voice.

Isn't the quality of her soul unusually high? It was truly remarkable that Elan managed to retain any rationality after being resurrected after being.

Meanwhile, Elan finished regenerating and adjusted her dislocated jaw. Then she looked at Verita and chanted a spell.

The corpses nearby staggered to their feet. Skeletons and ghouls filled the area. None appeared to be high-level undead, but their number reached into the hundreds.

"I'm curious why you still refuse to give up hope. Do you really think you can survive here? That would be fine as well. The more fiercely you and your companions struggle, the greater its satisfaction will be. Maybe you will resurrect it completely..."

Verita didn't bother shattering the priest's vain hope. She just said, "Well, there is something I want to ask you."

Elan glared at the woman who continued to smile despite the situation. She knew that most inquisitors were insane, but this woman stood out.

"What is it?" Elan asked.

"Have you seen a platinum-blond-haired hero?" Verita asked. "He would've been with a goblin."

"Hah. Are you talking about the brat who insolently disturbed the ritual?" The corners of Elan's mouth twisted coldly. "That kid thwarted my plans, but he has already paid the price. Both of them were swallowed into the giant's stomach. Their corpses will never be found."

Verita smiled brightly. "Nonsense."

"What nonsense—"

"Nonsense," Verita cut her off. "Nonsense. Nonsense. Nonsense. Nonsense."

Now even Elan fell silent. She realized that the other woman's mind wasn't sound.

"Everything you are saying is nonsense. There is no way he would die in a giant's stomach," Verita claimed.

Elan shrugged. "Believe it or don't. It's up to you. If you long for him that much, you can meet again in the underworld."

"Ah, I understand." Verita smiled slightly and continued, "I've met many people through this line of work. Sometimes, there are those who no longer need their tongues."

"What?"

"In those cases, I relieved them of that burden. At least, for the rest of their lives, they will no longer bring disaster to others." Verita raised her mace. "From what I see, you are one of them."