30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?!

The tides of battle had shifted in an instant!

A single sentence was enough to describe the overwhelming change in the battlefield. And this shift was, without question—

[Grrrk!?]

[Kehek...!]

[!!]

—an utter catastrophe for the monsters.

The so-called Accursed Beasts were in a complete panic, scattering in desperate attempts to flee.

Monsters born from the wicked gods' malice charged forward, unthinking and unafraid—only to be shattered like brittle ice, crushed and broken again and again. The rest fared no better, their bodies reduced to nothing more than pulped remains.

The warriors of the North and the Guardians of the Lake rampaged across the battlefield, cleaving through tens of thousands of monsters in moments, as if proving their claim to be the greatest force of ground warfare.

The airborne creatures, enraged by this, sought to turn the tides in their favor. The battlefield was their domain, the skies their rightful throne. They swooped down, ready to devour the knights below—

Slice!

Thunk—!

[K-Kek...!]

—Only to have their wings torn apart. Their stomachs were split open mid-air, sending them plummeting helplessly to the ground.

And, as impossible as it seemed—

[Kiiek?!!]

—humans, knights, were flying.

A knightly order wielding banners embroidered with crimson eagles and arrows.

There was no mistaking it.

If they were not called knights but rangers, none would dare challenge their claim as the greatest ranger force on the continent—no, in the entire South.

“...Why are those knights flying?”

“M-Magic, maybe?”

“I can’t sense any flow of mana, though—what in the...?”

“????”

It was the Crimson Eagle Knights.

Darting through the skies as if they ruled them, they carved through the airborne monsters. But they didn’t stop there—they rained down arrows in torrents, thinning the [N O V E L I G H T] monsters on the ground as well.

A barrage. That was the only way to describe it.

Their battle style was different from Galahad or Lionel, but there was no denying it—they had claimed dominance over a section of the battlefield.

Of course, they weren’t the only ones making an impact.

Schlunk!

"If you see any distortion-type monsters, eliminate them immediately! Even the slightest anomaly must not be overlooked, understood?" freewebnσvel.cøm

"Yes, Grandmaster!"

The Swordmasters of Offen.

An unusual noble house—one without a knightly order—yet no one in the kingdom dared to underestimate them.

They bore the title House of the Sword, and their strength came not from knights, but from the countless swordsmen who pledged themselves to Offen, as well as the formidable instructors who resided within the family.

It was often said that an instructor of Offen was on par with a high-ranking knight or a black-rank mercenary. And today, they proved that was no mere rumor.

No matter how dangerous the enemy, they sliced through them with overwhelming precision.

A single stroke for a lesser monster.

No more than five for a giant beast categorized as mid to large-sized.

The only ones that took more time were distortion-type monsters—illusions, mind manipulators, creatures of twisted abilities. But in the end, the Swordmasters of Offen emerged victorious.

It was an astonishing sight.

Distortion-type monsters were supposed to be nightmares to deal with, enemies that could take an entire day to defeat.

Yet these swordsmen tore through them like children’s playthings.

It was no wonder they were held in higher regard than even high-ranking knights and black-rank mercenaries.

It was only fitting for the House of the Sword.

KWOOM!

Three hundred knights—no more than that—had utterly dominated an army of 600,000.

If such a thing were depicted in a film, the director would be told to “tone it down.”

Yet this was no exaggeration, no fiction.

The battlefield remained burning hot, and the suffocating pressure of war pressed down on all who fought.

“T-There’s too many monsters!”

“This is insane!!”

“Senior! Help me!”

“Why the hell are we even here...!?”

...Well, there was one knightly order whose presence was far less impressive.

Their armor bore the insignia of a lion, but their actions were closer to that of panicked kittens.

Even though the White Silver Lions had the largest force among the four knightly orders—over a hundred and fifty members—they were struggling just to hold their defensive line.

One had to wonder if bringing them to the battlefield had been a mistake.

But at the very least—

"H-Hey, move the supplies over here!"

"Get the bandages and weapons!"

"Potions! We’re running out of potions...!"

—They were doing their job.

Even if their combat ability was lacking, they diligently fulfilled their assigned role.

They weren’t fighting like knights—they were functioning more like a logistics unit—but at least they were doing something.

An ironic reality for a knightly order, but—

KWOOM!

—In a battlefield this dangerous, only knights trained in combat techniques could handle supply management. Regular soldiers would have been slaughtered instantly.

And watching all of this—this grand, chaotic display of war—from every possible angle...

Was one very, very powerful Archfiend.

[What the hell is happening!?]

The Archfiend was beyond panicked—her mind spun in complete disarray.

They had been winning.

They had been overwhelming their enemies.

So why?

Why were they losing all of a sudden—?!

Her voice erupted into a shriek of disbelief.

[Why isn’t the curse activating!?]

Inanna could not contain her rage, nor the sheer injustice she felt.

One of the biggest reasons for her panic was the simple fact that reinforcements had arrived for Mordred.

That alone was absurd—an impossible event.

[The curse is still active! I can feel it! So why—?!]

Back when she was sealed away, Inanna had painstakingly inscribed multiple curses upon the land of Mordred. Among them, her most powerful was none other than the Curse of Severance.

Its purpose was singular:

To sever Mordred—no, all of Wales—from the outside world.

Though Inanna viewed humans as insignificant pests, even she could not deny the presence of other forces across the southern lands—forces that could threaten her should they decide to intervene.

If such beings had come to aid Mordred while she was still in a weakened state, she would have been in grave danger. Unable to fight back, she might have been crushed before even fully reviving.

And so, for the past three hundred years, she had poured immense effort into maintaining the Curse of Severance.

Thanks to it, Mordred had been forcibly isolated.

That was the sheer strength of the curse.

For example—

The more one tried to ignore these omens, the greater the incidents would become—eventually culminating in outright catastrophe.

Thus, Inanna had long discarded the possibility of external interference.

No one could come.

It was impossible for them to come.

...Or at least, it should have been.

[...Why?]

The curse was still active.

Yet the reinforcements had arrived.

They had faced no disasters, no obstacles—nothing had stopped them.

For Inanna, it was beyond baffling—it was infuriating.

She could not wrap her mind around it.

How was such a thing possible?

...Throb!

[...Of course. It’s you again!]

And yet, even in her fury, she was still a god.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

Her divine intuition kicked in.

She immediately knew who had ruined everything—who had dismantled her schemes and shattered her resurrection.

It was only an instinct—

But the instincts of a god never lied.

She had no doubt.

The one who had destroyed her plans—her ambitions—her very revival—

[Just how much more do you intend to interfere, you wretched being?!]

—was him.

The Author.

* * *

“Hm....”

Scratching his ear, Ihan tilted his head in confusion.

His ear had started itching out of nowhere—

And for some reason, he found himself questioning the situation.

“...Huh? Why are there so many of them?”

He was fairly certain he had only asked for a small number of reinforcements.

So why the hell were there so many people here?

...Was it some kind of mass holiday?

“...And why the hell are those White Cats here? This isn’t even where they’re supposed to be.”

*[Keeh-keh-keh-keh!]

“...I wasn’t talking to you.”

Ihan turned toward the final nuisance that was disturbing his thoughts.

And, without hesitation, delivered its final punishment.

CRACK!

[!!]

The Sky Bull, one of the Archfiend’s greatest mystical creations, thrashed in its last moments.

But its struggles were utterly meaningless.

Gripped within Ihan’s hands, it was crushed—

Its body reduced to nothing but pulp.

Its four legs, its ribs, its horns—all gone long ago.

Even its last desperate attempt—a final headbutt—was effortlessly neutralized.

Then, as if ensuring its absolute destruction, Ihan shattered its skull completely.

Crushed into fine dust.

Left with no chance of regeneration.

And then—

Fwoosh!

The remains began to disintegrate.

[...━━.]

Even as its empty eye sockets stared directly at Ihan.

“......”

And Ihan, in turn, did not avert his gaze.

Even if it was nothing more than a soulless skeleton, there was something he found strangely... commendable about its tenacity.

—Until, suddenly.

[-A flawless defeat, warrior. To have been slain by your hands... I consider it an honor.]

“...Huh?”

A voice resonated in his mind.

Ihan blinked.

Wait.

“...You could talk?”

Was this bastard pretending to be a mute this entire time?!

[-It is not as you think, warrior. I was merely under the control of that ‘demon.’ But now, at last, I am truly free. With my death, I am released from my shackles.]

[-To gain freedom not through life, but through death... Ah, what an ironic fate.]

"......."

[-Warrior. You, who have freed me from a life of servitude. I implore you—defeat that demon. If anyone can do it, it is you.]

“...Tsk. Why are you dumping this responsibility on me? Just go quietly, will you?”

[-Hah. Responsibility? You feel no such thing. You, with the mind of a wise warrior hidden beneath that simple exterior.]

“...You little—”

[-Ahaha! May you claim victory, warrior.]

Fwoosh...

With that final booming laugh, the Sky Bull—Gugalanna—was completely incinerated.

It vanished without a trace.

And from the looks of it, it seemed rather content.

Watching this unfold, Ihan muttered—

“...Damn bastard just had to leave me with some nonsense, huh?”

He glanced down at the massive bull’s horn left in his grip.

Shrugging, he descended from his perch atop the mountain—

—A mountain made of 30,000 slaughtered monsters.