Every Morning, My Mirror Saves the World - Chapter 55

The Thread of Life was only a name. No one could reasonably expect a hillside covered in cattails grown specifically for cuteness to hold off an Orc army. But when the Thread of Life was breached, it meant the empire’s heart had been laid bare beneath the enemy’s claws.

“Our most pressing question is why, in thousands of years, no one ever questioned the feasibility of building the capital right on the border,” Galahad said, his face numb.

Ruiyin—who had wanted to charge into battle with a dagger—and Vigia were both held back below. The ordinarily obedient Lars now radiated the immovable authority of a strict school disciplinarian. Women, children, and civilians without combat ability were evacuated together. The knight order, mages, and archers stood ready. Only the strongest warriors were permitted anywhere near the front.

Lars, Juvina, Galahad, and the others stood atop the city wall. The cutting wind made it nearly impossible to open their eyes. Galahad squinted into the distance. Where the vivid green meadow met the sky, a faint reddish-brown line had appeared.

“That’s warped space,” Juvina explained. “When large-scale spatial transfer magic is used, a sign like this appears at the destination in advance. A spell this enormous must belong to an army led personally by the Orc King.”

“Can’t we destroy it ahead of time?” Galahad suggested. “Without an exit, the Orcs can’t come through, right?”

Juvina shook his head. “That would require an extraordinary amount of magical power. Unfortunately, my current strength isn’t enough.”

He was about to add something when the person who had been standing silently behind them walked forward.

Lars stopped at the edge of the wall, his lips pressed into a line of grim endurance. He slowly drew the Sword of Shadow from his waist and leveled it at the warped space in the distance.

“Lars?” Galahad froze. “You aren’t planning to…”

Juvina studied Lars’s back in dawning realization. “The Sword of Shadow can tear through dreams and reality… Heh. Perhaps he truly can.”

Lars offered neither of them a response. His tall figure stood at the very edge of the wall like an unbreakable fortress.

He began chanting under his breath.

“Wandering shadows, roaming spirits, souls of the dead within the Abyss of Nothingness—freeze the years and shatter the tangled shades. In the name of the God of War, I awaken you. In the name of dreams, descend upon this world—”

The man’s low, husky voice intoned the difficult words. A dark, bloodred glow gradually spread over the sword in his hand. Lars stared ahead with solemn eyes. As the final syllable ended, he swung the Sword of Shadow down.

The air gave a swollen tremor. A crescent arc like a bloody moon tore away from the path of his blade. Before everyone’s eyes, it silently vanished beyond the red line.

Lars watched the tremor disappear from the air. Only after a long moment did he sheathe the Sword of Shadow.

“Did it work?” Galahad asked eagerly.

Lars turned around and ordered with perfect composure, “Galahad, stay behind me with the knight order and prepare for battle.”

“…You made us wait all that time just to tell me that?”

“I’ve severed most of the connection to this side. The majority of the Orcs have been intercepted on the other end, but the elite force should already have arrived.” Lars’s expression was grave. “I can sense Kandaru. Mages will be of little use against the Orc King, who is almost completely immune to magic. I’ll deal with him. You remain here. Not a single Orc can be allowed through the gates.”

“Hey, wait—” Galahad tried to stop him.

Lars had already turned and leaped from the wall without hesitation.

“Seriously, what is wrong with him?” Galahad scratched his mossy mess of green hair in confusion. “Juvina, don’t you think Lars has suddenly become very strange?”

“Not at all.” Juvina smiled, regarding Galahad with the warm, gentle gaze one reserved for an idiot.

“Hasn’t he always been like this? No—perhaps it would be more accurate to say this is his true nature when his troublesome guardian isn’t around.”

Alone, Lars urged his horse into a wild gallop across the endless fields of cattails. The city behind him gradually disappeared. Though the Thread of Life had seemed close from the wall, the warped space was in fact more than ten miles away.

For the deputy commander to abandon his troops and challenge the enemy boss alone was stupidity of the highest order.

Yet Lars could not control the urge.

His heart pounded at the unknown. A strange thrill rose from deep inside his chest, as if an invisible claw were raking ceaselessly at his heart.

He wanted to kill…

He wanted to destroy…

He wanted to slaughter every living creature…

Lars covered his eyes in confusion. In the Dark Elf temple, inside Kandaru’s Nightmare, he had obtained the Sword of Shadow—yet it seemed he had lost something too.

The strange impulse roared within him day after day, a beast always on the verge of tearing free from his body. Lars hardly dared imagine what he might become if he stopped resisting.

The reddish-brown expanse he had seen from the wall now loomed before him. The thin, wormlike line in the distance was actually a translucent ocher curtain cascading from a height beyond the reach of mortal sight. It rippled like the lightest gauze stirred by an invisible hand. Though the scene was close enough to touch, it appeared strangely crumpled and distorted.

Lars stood still and waited, holding his breath.

The Sword of Shadow shone with an ominously bright bloodred light in his clenched hand. He did not notice that the pupils in his emerald eyes were slowly contracting into vertical slits. He merely watched the shifting light in excitement. Across the crack in space, he could almost hear the clear ring of blades on the other side.

The instant the first fissure appeared, the Sword of Shadow—poised and waiting—slashed without hesitation.

The bloody crescent descended like the God of Death’s scythe harvesting lives, crushing down with tremendous force.

A single hand caught it lightly.

Lars raised an eyebrow without surprise. “It has been some time, Orc King Kandaru…”

A hand with the rough surface of stone easily tore the narrow crack wider. Arms and chest like iron, a face of white bone—the bull-demon-like Orc King Kandaru opened pupil-less crimson eyes and stared emotionlessly at Lars.

“Human… I remember you. You are the one who awakened me into this world again.”

“That’s right.” Lars bared his teeth in a smile.

“Then why do you now raise your blade against me?”

“I suppose I forgot to tell you why I woke you last time.” A bloodthirsty smile spread across Lars’s face. “I awakened you so I could destroy you completely.”

The instant he finished speaking, he twisted his wrist. The red light flared and chopped down at Kandaru before the Orc King had fully climbed through.

Kandaru unleashed an earthshaking roar. One hand caught the Sword of Shadow while the other tore open space itself and hauled his entire body through. With nothing but that one hand, he crushed the sword’s red light into fragments.

His crimson eyes fixed on Lars.

“Betrayal… There is nothing I despise more than betrayal! Tio or human, it makes no difference! A wet-behind-the-ears brat like you is two hundred years too early to challenge me! Roaring earth, sleeping flame, in the name of the Orc King I grant you rebirth—Raging Tide of Flame!”

The ground beneath Lars disintegrated in an instant. A vast fissure split open like a wound in the earth, spewing boiling magma.

Lars leaped across the broken stones. Warped space around the Sword of Shadow kept his immediate surroundings perfectly calm. Taking advantage of his far greater agility, he planted his sword against the ground and vaulted onto the Orc King’s back. His legs locked around Kandaru’s neck, and he stabbed down savagely without hesitation.

A scream rang out. Scalding blood sprayed over Lars’s face in a crimson mist, staining his vision red.

Ah…

This was the feeling.

Blood and screams. Ruin and death…

Only this seemed to quiet the eternally unsatisfied voice in his heart. Only endless corpses could fill the hole inside him.

Lars narrowed his eyes in pleasure. He seemed not to notice Kandaru’s furious body rapidly expanding.

He pulled out the Sword of Shadow and rolled his wrist. A thin layer of mist already coated the bloodred blade. Carrying the shrieks of the Undead, it plunged savagely toward Kandaru once more—

Bang!

An enormous force struck Lars from the side.

Lost in ecstasy, he never understood what happened. His entire body crashed to the ground like a plummet. Bracing one hand against the earth, he swayed back to his feet. It took a long moment for his unfocused gaze to settle on the towering black figure nearby.

“…Mordova?”

The translucent ocher twilight resembled sunset at the hour when demons emerged, carefully gilding the pure-black armor with an uncanny edge. The Black Knight’s featureless metal mask faced him directly, radiating chilling murderous intent even through the warm light.

“Mordova, what are you doing?” Lars roared in fury. “That’s Orc King Kandaru! Are you on his side?”

“I should be asking you that,” the Black Knight said with absolute coldness.

He turned toward the now-gigantic Kandaru and slowly drew his heavy sword from the air.

“Tio’s hound from two hundred years ago. Had you remained obediently underground, I might have let you live. Since you’ve chosen to court death… heh. I will oblige you.”

It was as though the god of night had descended early. Towering dark clouds surged upward and engulfed the ground around Lars.

The earth beside the Black Knight abruptly transformed into a bottomless black pool. Waves churned violently across its surface as something below struggled to break free.

A horse-shaped skeleton emerged without a shred of hide or fur. It possessed only sleek black bones, gleaming like a poisoned night, with ghostly blue fire winding between them.

Lars had seen the creature in a textbook. It was a high-level magical beast from the lowest reaches of the Abyssal Demon Realm—

A Nightmare.

It gave a shrill scream. Four hooves moved silently over the water and stopped beside the Black Knight.

“Once he is attacked and his body suffers sufficient injury, all his abilities multiply as he enters a berserk state. That is the most terrifying trait of Orc King Kandaru.” The Black Knight vaulted onto the summoned Undead and raised his greatsword in one hand. “I will deal with him. I cannot kill him, but I can at least force him to retreat this time.”

“Stop right there!” Thoroughly exasperated, Lars grabbed the flames on the rump of the horse that was about to charge. After being completely suppressed, he had nowhere else to vent his frustration. “Who gave you permission to take over? How do you know I can’t do it? I’ve already—”

“You?” The Black Knight stopped and stared coldly at him. “Do you mean the destructive forbidden spell you’ve practiced behind everyone’s backs? Or the urges you cannot control at all?

“You do not understand what battle means. No matter how great a power you possess, you know only how to use it for destruction. If you cannot learn restraint, one day you will destroy even the things you wish to protect with your own hands.”

Lars froze.

In that brief moment, the Black Knight spurred his mount and charged away. Only the final words of his voice lingered in the air.

“Grow up quickly, Lars… The world cannot wait for you forever…”

Author’s Note:

Lars: …I finally got a chance to make my presence felt QAQ! Why did you have to appear and crush my momentum in every possible way?!

Black Knight: …Hmph.