I Became the Martial God's Youngest Disciple

Episode 302

Elan felt a chill run down her spine at the sight of Verita's smile, and shame followed close behind. Why should she feel fear now? She had already devoted everything to her god and become a half-corpse. What remained to fear?

She waved her hand and gave a command. "Kill."

Hundreds of corpses attacked Verita simultaneously. The army of the dead overwhelmed the inquisitor within moments and began to tear her apart piece by piece.

As the corpses feasted on her flesh, Elan briefly shifted her consciousness back to the surface. She could feel the legion commander's will encroaching on her. Within that wicked presence, she felt the contradictory feelings of boredom and pleasure.

Pleasure? This meant that the situation above had become interesting enough to capture the legion commander's attention.

"Rats trapped in a jar are acting like they matter." Elan cursed, her expression as rigid as a corpse. Even in this situation, some still fought without losing hope. She both hated and envied those who refused to give up on life.

The thought pushed her into manic laughter. Endless hatred, malice, and jealousy toward the living churned within her. The uncontrollable swirl of emotions made her realize that she had truly become an undead creature.

It didn't matter. If her hatred could serve as the foundation that destroyed the north, she could endure hell forever. First, she would kill that damn inquisitor.

By the way, how long are these undead going to keep eating? Elan still retained a shred of reason. She glared at the mass of corpses and then she realized her mistake. The number of undead was decreasing. The sound she was hearing wasn't the dead devouring the inquisitor's corpse.

Suddenly, a sharp clang rang out as metal struck something hard. In the next instant, a skull shot out from the pile of corpses.

Elan twisted aside just in time to dodge.

"Ahahaha!"

The moment that manic peal of laughter burst forth, Elan finally understood why that woman felt so eerie.

As a devout church member and a priest, Elan rarely felt fear toward others. That held true even in the presence of the head of the Imperial Knights, the leader of the Hero Society, or even the Seven-Colored Archmages. Well, it would be a different story if it was the Iron-Blooded Lord.

Only one thing truly frightened her: a being who could wield more miasma than she did.

Miasma! Elan recoiled at the sheer concentration of miasma surrounding the inquisitor. It hung so thick that it reminded her of the legion commander. Elan's mind shrank from the incomprehensible madness emanating from Verita.

"You! Are you a member of the church?" Elan bit her lip as she stared at Verita, who was still smiling brightly. "Why are church members interfering with our work? Don't you know that the north is currently under our jurisdiction?"

"God said that if you are certain you walk the right path, you should act as you please. It will just be like listening to me..." Verita responded.

"What?"

"I mean that I have always followed, and will always follow, the will of God," Verita replied.

The moment Elan heard Verita's preaching, several possibilities in her mind disappeared, leaving only one. Only one faction in the church uttered such nonsense.

"A Colorless believer... You disgusting heretic," Elan spat. "You let yourself get dragged down here on purpose. You want to hide your true identity from those above! This way, you can release miasma freely and fight without restraint!"

Verita nodded. "Pretty neat decision, isn't it? Keeping you tied up here alone seals away one of the legion commander's pawns. In addition, continuing to revive all the corpses, including you, must take a toll on it."

"This isn't just any ritual. It's meant to bring about the descent of a god of disaster. Do you know what it means to interrupt this? Even the Dark Pope wouldn't take this lightly," Elan argued.

"Of course, I understand. However, the dead can't speak, right?" Verita shot back.

"What? Haha." Elan let out an empty laugh as she finally grasped the meaning.

It was common knowledge in the Dark Church that the Colorless believers were a peculiar group, but she never imagined that they were outright heretics.

No. Is this woman acting alone? Then how could someone who opposes us wield such overwhelming miasma?

Judging by its density, the source had to be one of the six gods of disaster. Then why would one of them bestow such power on someone so clearly a heretic?

Elan suppressed her fear and asked, "Who the hell are you?"

"My identity? That is an interesting topic. A single human can have many identities, but the God I believe in said that one's identity is extremely relative, and everything can be true or false at the same time," Verita answered.

Elan frowned. "What?"

"It doesn't make much sense to preach God's word to someone like you." Verita briefly clasped her bloodstained hands in prayer, then continued, "So for someone like you, I believe my inquisitor identity should be sufficient."

"What?" Elan asked yet again.

At that instant, Verita disappeared.

Understanding came to Elan a heartbeat before the blow struck her head. For a heretic, the work of an inquisitor needed no further explanation.

***

Out of habit, Araxad mentally reviewed his options one by one. A gourd made of moonlight, two bronze-forged swords, a chain scythe, the demon-slaying spear, a club carved from the Darkwood of the Swamp, and even a mace temporarily borrowed from the Sun Church. In addition, I have the seventeen beads Ramon made, including flash bombs, smoke bombs, and poisonous mist, along with an all-purpose rope and a silver knife.

Then he chose the weapon most likely to be effective against the legion commander: the demon-slaying spear, known for its ability to erase magic and sorcery.

However, the moment the legion commander struck the ground with its staff, the spear's long shaft bent like a trumpet and shattered.

Araxad didn't hesitate to discard the spear. He drew the twin swords and swung them, but an invisible curtain blocked the attack. He didn't know what it was made of, only that it was incredibly hard.

As soon as he judged the blades couldn't break it, he switched to the Sun Church's mace and slammed it down. After two heavy strikes, cracks started to form in the invisible barrier. Then a cold sensation spread across his abdomen. Without looking, he pulled his shield to block.

Baaaaaaang!

Araxad was flung backward as if struck by a carriage. He couldn't help thinking of Daedalus, his colleague and rival. This shield could withstand even one of his powerful axe blows, yet the attack had reduced it to useless scrap. It no longer functioned as a shield. It only weighed him down, so he threw it away without hesitation and loaded the crossbow mounted on his arm.

The fired bolt struck the cracks in the barrier. Shot after shot landed in the same place. The precision was enough to raise goosebumps. Such accuracy was nearly impossible with a rapid-fire crossbow, but Araxad's lizardman physiology made it possible.

However, while the bolts could penetrate the barrier, they couldn't shatter it. He needed a decisive blow, one strong enough to break the cracked barrier in one go.

Araxad drew a hatchet from his waist and threw it with all his strength. The sound of shattering glass rang out as the barrier broke.

"Uwaah!"

"Die!"

The waiting heroes charged in unison.

Those exposed to the miasma presented a miserable sight. Their hair fell out, and their skin oozed pus. They were almost indistinguishable from the corpses crawling on the ground. However, the flames in their eyes burned vividly.

At that moment, the legion commander's sleeve fluttered, and dozens of dark tentacles shot out, piercing the heroes in an instant.

The impaled heroes trembled in midair, but only for a moment. On the verge of losing consciousness, they still managed to leave shallow wounds on the tentacles.

For the first time, the legion commander shrank back and trembled.

Zach watched with wide eyes and caught the change. Did the attack work? What weapon caused it?

His gaze swept across the wounds on the tentacles. One thrashed far more violently than the others, rampaging as if it had been set alight.

The man impaled by the tentacle was Anthony Ratser, a twenty-three-year-old B-class hero from Full Moon. He wielded a silver sword.

It is a silver sword. Does that mean it works against the demon? No, that's too simple.

Everyone knew that silver was effective against demons, but it couldn't have this level of impact on a legion commander. More importantly, the wounds on that tentacle didn't appear severe enough to provoke such a reaction.

Anthony hadn't lost consciousness, so he struck the tentacle again. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't a proper swing. He was just striking with the hilt of his sword.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Each impact produced a strange sound.

Is it hollow inside? Zach wondered.

This time, the legion commander twisted even more violently in response.

Zach's eyes flashed with realization. Sound?

Just then, a mage approached and reported, "We have established a barrier. It should block the miasma and mental attacks for now, but it won't last long..."

"Good work. Join the raid immediately and put pressure on the legion commander," Zach instructed.

"Yes."

After issuing the order, he searched for a relatively intact giant. "I need your help."

The giant seemed in good spirits, though one of his arms had been severed. Even so, he bared his teeth in a grin. "How can I help you?"

"I need you to make a sound."

"A sound?" the giant echoed.

"I need you to strike something in a steady rhythm. Roughly like this..." Zach struck a nearby helmet with his staff. "I want this sound to reach the demon legion commander."

"That looks like drum beating. Fortunately, one arm is enough for that. I do have a good club that will do. By the way, what is the purpose of this?" the giant asked.

"I don't know. With the time we have left, we can only try everything," Zach replied.

"Kukuk. I like that spirit." The giant smiled widely. "I am Galen."

"Zach Harvest."

"Yes. Zach. Once this goes well, let's have a drink together."

"If we survive."

"Yes. If we survive..." The giant repeated Zach's words, his voice heavy with emotion. Then he lowered the large shield from his back and set it before him. With his remaining arm, he gripped the club and struck the shield.

A steady, rhythmic pounding rang out.

"Kieeeeek!" This time, the legion commander trembled and screamed. Beneath its clothes, it writhed, creating a bizarre sight. It looked just like a demon thrashing inside a swaddling cloth.

It is working, Zach thought.

This strange rhythm clearly disrupted the legion commander. The gravestones falling from the ceiling suddenly stopped. The tentacles flailed more wildly than before, but they no longer targeted the heroes. Their accuracy had plummeted.

"Now! Everyone, attack!" Zach shouted, knowing that this would be their last chance. He also released the spell he had been chanting all along.

It was the most powerful spell he could cast. Icicles condensed from frigid air, forming spears that shot at the legion commander.

The cold spears pierced the legion commander. At the same time, dozens of weapons from the surrounding heroes pierced it in rapid succession.

Slashed and impaled by countless weapons, the legion commander reeled and staggered back.

Blood rose in Zach's throat, the price of casting such a reckless spell. He swallowed it down.

"Pursue it! We have to finish it this time." He coughed. "Finish it... now...!"

Agonizing pain twisted his internal organs, threatening to make him lose consciousness at any moment. Even so, he never took his eyes off the legion commander.

At that moment, the retreating legion commander screamed and slammed its staff down again. The air exploded with a sharp crack, and most of the heroes attacking it were blasted away.

"Grrr...!" A beastlike roar echoed from beyond the flickering flames of the commander's face.

It was working. Their attacks had landed. However, too many had fallen in the process.

Is there anyone still capable of fighting? Zach thought.

They just needed to push a little further.

At that moment, a small figure shot past Zach like a streak of light. The blood-soaked back was unmistakable.

Mir Giant!

The moment the barrage of gravestones finally stopped, the young hero seized the narrow opening. She gripped the axe she had received from her senior and closed the distance to the legion commander.

By the time the legion commander turned its head with a stiff motion, Mir was already upon it. She screamed as her axe slammed into its face.

"Kiaaaaaaaack!"

A piercing shriek followed. The icicles and stalactites hanging from the ceiling trembled violently. The bones of the fallen corpses rattled. The eardrums of the living ruptured, and blood streamed from their ears to their cheeks. Those with weak resistance to miasma lost consciousness.

Mir, who was closest to it, bled from her eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. Still, she tightened her grip on the axe and glared at it. She knew that this was the last chance. If she missed this, they would have no hope of bringing down this monster.

At that moment, a gloomy sound rose from the legion commander.

Mir, standing nearest, heard the ominous chant. The language was unlike anything she had ever heard. It sounded as though a creature with five tongues spoke words meant only for itself.

Whatever scheme the legion commander was planning, Mir had no intention of standing by and letting it do it.

As she was about to raise her axe to hit the legion commander on the head once more, a single word struck her ears.

"Kingarodtus."

In the next instant, Mir was hurled dozens of meters through the air before crashing into a wall.

What just happened? Mir gasped for breath, blood filling her mouth as the question echoed in her mind. It felt as if every bone had shattered, and she could not lift a finger. She had already lost a great deal of blood, and her vision blurred at the edges.

Amid the panic, one harsh truth pressed down heavily on her: They had failed.

At the same time, Zach coughed up blood and dropped to one knee. Is this a legion commander? A top-ranking demon that even dozens of carefully selected heroes can't defeat.

They had used every means available. Their improvisation hadn't been lacking. Everyone had pushed past their limits and performed at 120% of their strength, yet they still couldn't kill it.

If they had done their best, then there would have been no regrets, even in defeat.

This sentence written in a book suddenly surfaced in his mind.

Bullshit. Zach was furious. He burned with anger at their failure to kill this demon. Even at this age, he couldn't stop tears from spilling.

Pathetic, angry, pitiful... He didn't know how to look at Feed, who had left first.

Please. The thought slipped in despite everything he believed as a hero. Please, someone...

At that moment, a wall shattered, and light flooded the cave. The cold, miasma-filled air changed in an instant. Beyond the rupture, flames surged upward, driving back the darkness. They burned with the fierce brilliance of a sunrise, a raging inferno.

A figure wrapped in raging flames shot through the air and crashed into the demon commander.

The impact struck the legion commander head-on, and for the first time, its massive frame crashed to the ground.

"The hero has arrived," a smirking voice said from behind the flickering flames. "If I'm the one saying that, does that make me shameless? Huh? You son of a bitch."