The Legendary Spearman Returns

Lilith dumbly watched the heavy metal gate hit the floor. It took her a moment to realize that her full power attack had actually succeeded.

“Ah...” Lilith could feel her eyes getting teary. It wasn’t out of happiness over much progress she had made; it was because the first thing she noticed with the obstacle out of her way was the sickly reek of a person who hadn’t washed for a long time.

Lilith quickly covered her mouth to stop herself from crying out loud because more enemies could be around. However, she couldn’t help but peer into the prison cells lining both sides of the passage.

Her footsteps were the only noise in the dungeon. Skeletons and half-rotten corpses, writhing with larvae, occupied the cells. The further she went inside the dungeon, the less rotted the corpses were. From that, Lilith could tell that the low-ranking and less skilled paladins had been incarcerated close to the entrance.

‘If Father is still alive... it’s likely that he’s in the deepest cell.’

Unfortunately, fifty meters down the hallway, she still couldn’t find a single survivor. Nevertheless, she didn’t lose hope. Perhaps—no, she was going to...

“...Ah!” Lilith gasped. She’d found her first survivor, a paladin missing a leg and an arm. His breathing was so shallow that she couldn’t hear him unless she listened closely, but he was alive. That was how Lilith could be certain that there were no more guards in the dungeon. If she were in charge of them, Lilith wouldn’t want to waste precious manpower on prisoners who were on the verge of becoming corpses.

Lilith cut through the cell bars with her sword, with a newfound urgency. She practically ran down the long, dark hallway. Hundreds of meters later, she arrived at the furthest cell.

She found a skeleton sitting on an old wooden chair. The old locket on the skeleton’s neck was something she could never forget—she instantly knew who the skeleton belonged to.

“Ah... Ah...” Lilith could only gasp.

Moving on instinct, Lilith cut though the bars and staggered forward as if she had been bewitched.

When Lilith arrived in front of the skeleton, she reached out and opened the locket. It held a picture of young Lilith and a middle-aged man smiling brightly together.

Lilith could not hold back her tears anymore. Despite desperately holding on to a glimmer of hope, no miracle had taken place here. She had been bracing herself for the possibility, of course, because the environment here was too harrowing for an old man to survive.

Lilith’s father, beloved and dearly missed, was once the most respected cardinal in the Great Temple and had been the leading candidate for the next pope of Hubalt.

He was long dead.

“Is... that you... Lilith?”

Lilith’s eyes widened. The voice was croaking and nearly inaudible; she hadn’t even sensed the man because his hold on life was so weak. She quickly turned, searching for the source of the voice. She realized it was coming from the cell next to her father’s. She could sense more presences, just as weak, within, but only one voice could be heard.

“...Oh, no. Sir Christian.” Lilith drew up her aura and launched several strikes forward. The aura strikes flew down the length of the hallway, cutting open every single cell. When she was done, Lilith immediately made her way to Christian.

“You’ve gotten a lot better,” Christian whispered.

Lilith silently looked down at him. Christian the White Lion was one of the strongest people in Hubalt—a Superhuman was dying on the cold floor, forgotten and abandoned. It seemed that one of his arms had been cut off long ago, and he was also so emaciated that he looked lighter than Lilith, who was at least twenty centimeters shorter than him.

Fortunately, around twenty of the first-generation paladins were still alive, although their injuries were just as serious as Christian’s.

“You must have... gone through a lot,” Christian breathed.

That was what Lilith wanted to say to Christian—but why was she the one struggling to hold back her tears instead?

In the end, she sank to the floor and wept.

* * *

Kireua pressed forward, allowing no time for the nobles to stop and think.

“The first reason is that you need to hide the death of your emperor—which means you’re better off negotiating with me than you are trying to fight me.”

“What kind of nonsense is that?” Duke Jook raged.

“Then are you going to announce that I assassinated your emperor in the middle of your palace?”

Jook's eyes widened in horror. Although he had forgotten himself for a moment due to the shock of witnessing the abrupt execution of his emperor, Jook knew could not let that happen. The Second Continental War was already in motion, so it was essential that Hubalt maintain the morale of its troops. If they heard that the Martial God had taken their emperor’s head, they would fold like wet tissue paper, while the allied forces opposing them would be over the moon.

“If you still want to announce it, I won’t stop you.” Kireua shrugged. “I don’t have any reason to interfere if you people are going to do my job.”

“You must be mad! That is no reason for us to let you go!”

“The first reason is also my second reason,” Kireua continued, accurately mimicking the confidence of the man he was disguised as. “We’re talking about me, the Martial God. Don’t tell me you actually think you can capture me just because you outnumber me. Even if that did work, do you think you can subdue me without anyone finding out? I can easily demolish this entire building—or worse.”

It was a very arrogant claim, but it was exactly the kind of attitude they would expect from Joshua Sanders. This was the man who had bested an army a million strong, the hero of heroes, the god slayer, the absolute, transcendental might... That was who Joshua Sanders, the Martial God, was.

“Y-Your Grace.”

The murmurings among the bewildered nobles got louder. Jook was no different, even though he stepped up to take charge of the situation.

‘Did he predict how we were going to react...?’ Jook marveled. It was his first time meeting Joshua Sanders, but he had a creeping feeling that this was why everyone was in awe of the Martial God. His martial prowess, the bold assassination of the enemy emperor, the guts to threaten all these people...

‘...For goodness’ sake,’ Jook fumed.

“The third reason is that you people now have a legitimate excuse.”

“What?”

“You already heard that the true owner of this place, the woman you branded a witch, is finally back.”

Jook nodded. Lilith Aphrodite, the Silver-eyed Ghost Sword, had the motivation and ability to assassinate Kurz, so Bel and his followers would believe the story. However, there was one fact that bothered Jook...

‘...Bel said that he was going to leave someone reliable to protect the Palace. Where in the world are they?’

The aforementioned protector was Isaac, the Martial Emperor’s daughter, but since Jook didn’t know about the deal between Kireua and Isaac, he was left confused.

“Where is the Ghost Sword?” Jook asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Are you not working with her?”

“Believe it or not, I ran into her here by coincidence,” Kireua answered.

Jook peered into Kireua’s eyes for a moment but quickly shrugged it off. Kireua could be lying, but it wasn’t important right now.

“She must be in the dungeon,” Jook murmured.

“I-I’ll see right to it.”

Some of the knights were about to rush out of the council chamber when Jook shook his head.

“No need. Just let them go.”

“Your Grace...?”

“His Majesty’s death will eventually come to light; people will become suspicious if he doesn’t appear for a long period. We’ll need an excuse when the time comes.”

“Ah...”

Kireua’s eyes gleamed. Jook was more adaptable than he had expected. A narrative where Kurz was killed in a coup staged by the paladins and others inside the palace would give Jook more justification than Lilith somehow singlehandedly assassinating the emperor.

“Can I go now?”

“...Wait.” Jook raised his arm. “You haven’t told me your fourth reason.”

Kireua tilted his head in confusion. “Are the reasons I gave you so far not enough?”

“Yes, but now I want to hear them all.”

Kireua took a look around the chamber. Although they were silent, the other nobles’ eyes were twinkling with curiosity as well.

An interesting idea came to Kireua’s mind.

“Then I’ll only tell you the fourth reason.”

Jook quietly waited for a telepathic message, but no matter how long he waited, it never arrived.

“What are you—”

Jook stopped mid-sentence, his eyes gradually widening.

Kireua shot him a big grin, much to Jook’s irritation, that silently told Jook that Kireua knew that the whole situation was exactly how Jook wanted things to turn out.

Jook bit his lip.

“...Fuck. Let him go!”

This chapter is updat𝓮d by fre(e)webnov(l).com