Amber Sword

In that instant, Wind Queen sensed the shift in Brand’s thoughts. "Don’t listen to its insane rambling, Brand." She hurriedly called out to warn him.

But Brand had only felt his heart stir for a moment before he snapped back. "Resurrection?" He sneered. "You mean Transformation into a Demon—but Antitina does not need that kind of ending!"

His Sword thrust down.

But just then, a spark of cold light tore through the curtain of rain and shot toward him.

A streak of silver, drawing near from afar, struck precisely against Brand’s descending Sword Blade. With a clear ring, the Earth Sword was knocked aside, missing the Magic Gem on Messika’s chest by a hair’s breadth as it stabbed down.

"Aow!"

The Hell Demon King let out another miserable scream. From today onward, this was probably the unluckiest day it had suffered since its birth. A dignified Underworld King, yet its life now hung by a thread like a pig or a dog, trampled on at will by others.

Though it could only blame its own misfortune. Among the Hell Demon Kings of the Lower World, for the seven lords of the Seven Upper Hells who had entered the Human World, Brand knew all of their True Names. In that previous World this knowledge had been meaningless, because those seven had long since fallen as corpses under the blade of the twenty‑five‑legged man, with no telling in which year or month they might be resurrected again.

But here, this knowledge had become its death warrant without a doubt.

Brand’s Sword was blocked, and he instinctively took a step back. What had been thrown was a Dagger, now stuck upright in the grass to the side. The force behind it was astonishing—at least on the level of Elemental Enlightenment in raw Strength—not Messika’s current, withered level, but that of someone solidly in the middle ranks, in the full prime of Elemental Enlightenment.

Could there be a high-level demon?

Shaking the numbness from his wrist, he looked up—and saw, standing in the rain‑soaked night, an old acquaintance.

Eagle Knight De Jia’er.

"This guy..." This fellow was obviously not here to settle a personal score with him. Brand immediately thought of the man behind him—Duke Anliek. He had nearly forgotten this man, or rather, from the moment he had left the Ande Fulei Grand Temple, this fellow seemed to have vanished without a trace.

But now, this old fox finally appeared again.

Right after he had revealed his final trump card.

...

At the center of the battlefield, the Demons’ assault had already thinned out.

In fact, the last few wedge‑shaped waves at their rear had begun to wheel around toward the Teleportation Gate, leaving only a handful of Hellhounds and Barbarian Demons, their heads full of frenzied rage, still disobeying orders and besieging the Princess and her party.

But they could no longer pose any real threat. Reid and the Templars of the Cruz people were more than strong enough to withstand such a feeble attack, teaching these chaotic Biological creatures the etiquette of the battlefield with their actions.

The severed heads of slain Demons were mounted on long spears—spears that had originally belonged to another batch of Little Demons. At the beginning, they must have looted them from the Human Harbor Guard, because the spears still bore Ambeser’s crest and manufacturing numbers.

Those long spears formed a ring around the perimeter of the formation.

"They’re turning toward Brand’s side," Her Highness the Princess watched the distant scene with deep worry. "We cannot just let them leave like this!"

𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"But what can we do, esteemed Princess of Erune?"

Stephen, the Templar of the Cruz people, answered with a wry smile.

Everyone was wounded from head to toe, utterly exhausted. The Knights were dead or dying, with only two or three badly injured men left alive. A few witches who had been providing support from the rear remained, but in a situation like this, they were of little use.

That witch named Barbara had vanished without anyone knowing where she had gone.

"Leave it to me!" A hoarse, heavy voice, as if rolling up from deep within a throat, answered weakly. The speaker was Gallock, lying on the ground and gasping for breath. In the previous battle, a long spear had pierced his lung, and his hands were badly wounded as well. "I might still be able to force out one more Teleportation Magic. It won’t be as far as last time, but I can try to send you ahead of them."

"But are you sure you can manage that, Master Gallock?" Her Highness the Princess asked with concern; anyone could see that the old wizard’s status was far from good.

"It’s not too bad... cough, cough. I’ve recovered a bit of Strength, enough to barely cast one more time." Gallock replied. "Do not worry, Your Highness."

"Then I’ll leave it to you, Master Gallock." Only then did Princess Griffine nod.

Reid suddenly walked over and patted the old wizard, who was lying on the ground, on the shoulder. Gallock glanced at this old lion of the Kingdom. He shook his head, then, with great effort, tried to sit up and reach for his staff—one of the Knights hurried forward to help him to his feet.