Book 9, Chapter 2

A Glorious Thousand

With his personal strength taken care of, Richard focused on the obstructions along his path to Apeiron. The thirteen families of Faust would definitely obstruct him, and even Duke Orleans would do his best to stand out.

With a thought, the image on the table suddenly shifted to the islands surrounding Faust. A group of knights flew out from each of the floating islands, gathering into a sea of steel that stood in his path. Included were many familiar faces; Joseph, Mensa, Orleans, Wennington… it was an army that could set anyone’s hearts pounding in fear.

However, all of that steel melted away, the so-called powerhouses disappearing until only one person stood in his path— Apeiron. Her tall frame and murderous aura… those were the end that would decide everything.

For a moment, he felt like he understood what Apeiron had felt upon her return. Only an epic being qualified to be a final gate in Norland. When Philip died, she ignored her oath and returned to Norland, purely because she knew that the alternative was a total collapse of the Sacred Alliance. Now, she was at the end of his own bloody path back into Faust; no, she was the very reason for it. If he didn’t defeat her, anything else was pointless.

Richard sighed and left the library. All the images on the ancient table disappeared, leaving only a purple silhouette behind. He arrived at Sharon’s treasury and grunted, whispering softly, “Sorry, I don’t have enough time. I’ve got no choice but to use these. You won’t blame me when you’re back… right?”

The image of Sharon’s return appeared in his mind, drawing a single gasp. If she saw an empty treasury… would she really not blame him?

He snapped himself out of his thoughts, finding a small smile on his face. Wiping it off with a deep breath, he pushed the door open and walked in.

……

Soon enough, the blistering pace of the Archeron war machine seemed to turn into lightning. Two suffocating months went by with each side making its preparations, at which point Richard finally reached the time when he would have to start the march. His forces would set off from Blackrose and spend an entire month fighting their way to Faust, at which point he would duel Apeiron to the death in the city of miracles. The entire endeavour would end in a battle between the geniuses of two generations.

Decades ago, Gaton Archeron had led thirteen followers through a blood-soaked path to enter Faust and shock the entire Alliance. Richard surpassed the man individually, monetarily, and in terms of group power. Just what would he bring to the table?

Every island in Faust had spent the last two months transferring soldiers around, preparing for Richard’s assault. In their minds, this was no longer a march on Faust but a challenge towards the entire Alliance.

When it came time for the march, lords from all over the continent had gathered around Blackrose Castle. This included those from the Millennial Empire, Sacred Tree Empire, and even those from the floating islands of Faust. Everyone wanted to know just how much power the Archerons could push into this march.

It was nearly noon, but the castle was deathly silent. As the time approached, the hearts of those watching started beating faster and faster.

The doors to Blackrose suddenly shot open, Richard walking out from within and flying into the sky. His silver and red armour was particularly striking in the sunlight, and his aura had solidified into rows of divine text dancing all around him.

This was Midren! Many who had never seen the rune set before shivered in fright. In actual fact, most of them hadn’t even seen a saint rune in their lives.

A number of other figures walked out of the castle following Richard. Most eye-grabbing of them all was Tiramisu, the ogre lord already seven metres tall and now with many tattoos all across his skin. The sole horn on Medium Rare had all sorts of mysterious runes on it, and his killing intent was so dense that it was nearly solid. Every step was like the beat of a wardrum, shaking everyone’s hearts. It was obvious that he had already become a legend!

A two-headed legendary ogre had strength far beyond humans of equal level, able to contend with level 24 warriors. He held two enormous warhammers in his hands, but not both of them were his. On his shoulder was Mountainsea, sleepy as always and looking tiny in comparison. However, those familiar with her knew that while she had yet to complete her hibernation, her innate strength was awakening as well. She had already tossed Eleventon aside, opting to use hammers just like her close friend.

Following these two were three more figures, these ones decidedly more muted and restrained. Their auras almost seemed to fade away, and anyone looking felt their focus distorting to the point that they couldn’t make out the appearances of the three. It was obvious that each one was an amazing assassin; if they were this hard to notice in daylight, they were practically ghosts in the night.

Waterflower and Phaser were natural assassins, but even Zangru had repurposed himself over time. His body now looked more feminine than ever, having grown enchanting ever since the broodmother managed to get him to the legendary realm. He was currently playing with a tiny lizard in his hands, not a pet but the evolution of his weapon. It was hard to tell whether it was an independent being, but it had strength approaching a sky-saint on its own.

At this point, many people were left dazed. After the display of power in the Deepblue, everyone already knew that Richard had four legends under him, alongside one that was a saint but could crush them regardless. These weren’t those four!

Did Richard have eight legends in total? Those that came from the Sacred Alliance all turned sullen, finally remembering to open contact with the families.

While these four new legends were powerful, they didn’t make a tide-changing difference from the expected numbers. Those who opened communications were quickly told to watch on; they wouldn’t be surrendering just yet. Even with this change, the combined heads of the Alliance believed it was only an equal match-up; the fact that Richard had never lost a war was consciously ignored. In a battle of this scale, army control faded in importance compared to the battles at the top end.

The last of Richard’s followers to walk out of the castle were Olar and Gangdor, both looking solemn in full military uniform. They were only saints despite their best efforts, but for this march they would act as commanders and had no need to join the frontlines.

At this point, everyone who had accompanied Richard to Faelor had gathered. The one glaring hole was in the beautiful priestess that had propped the group on her back. The main gates to Blackrose slowly closed.

The onlookers broke out into whispers; this meant Richard wasn’t planning on using any more powerhouses. Ironshield and the others were left in his various planes.

“Where are your men?” a hiss rang out in Richard’s ears, drawing his attention to Macy who was in the distance. She had been asked by the Millennial Empire to witness the march personally, and would accompany him the entire way.

Richard glanced at her and smiled, speaking in a normal voice instead of responding with a directed transmission, “They won’t be able to get into a real fight before we reach Faust anyway.”

The people around looked confused, not understanding the context, but Richard had no need to explain himself. What followed would be enough to clarify any doubts they had.

Olar and Gangdor each produced a bugle, blowing hard into it. A desolate cry echoed through the sky, popping ten portals into existence all around Blackrose Castle. Loud neighs rang out as iron hooves marched out from within, rune knight after rune knight walking out of the gates.

They were finally here! Everyone perked up. Rune knights had to be the final tactic for a saint runemaster like Richard. Ten streams of steel rushed towards the front of the castle, lining up in row after row. The onlookers were shocked after mere moments; they knew that Richard had a lot of rune knights, but they had never expected there to be so many!

The sea of steel only stopped at ten full rows of a hundred each, leaving everyone shocked into silence. Everyone quickly realised just why Richard’s legends wouldn’t have a chance to act; even his followers were likely brought of nostalgia for his innocent past. These rune knights alone were the biggest force Norland had ever seen, enough to take down all of the Sacred Alliance themselves!

Richard’s rune knights would mow through the countryside all the way till he reached Faust, and those here would bear witness to the start of that decimation. They would soon report what they saw:

The glorious scene of a thousand rune knights starting their charge.

Previous ChapterNext Chapte