Chapter 252

To summarize extremely, the relationship between the army, the Seven Dragon Lords, and the Hero Party is akin to rock-paper-scissors.

Individuals cannot defeat the legion. However, occasionally, an ‘exceptional individual’ emerges who can overwhelm the legion.

At this point, the situation on the battlefield drastically changes. It becomes a scenario where you have to face both the ‘individual’ capable of confronting the legion and the ‘enemy legion’ led by that individual simultaneously.

By this time, the United Kingdom has lost nearly half of its territory.

Then, the hero appears. Like immune cells going wild just before death.

This ‘overwhelming individual’ cannot face the legion. The purpose is different. Instead of having the ability to confront the multitude, they focused solely on having a certain lethal capability against a few.

On the battlefield of large legions, the hero is ‘one person fighting exceptionally well.’ If the annihilation of the allies occurs faster than the annihilation of the enemies, this individual’s utility shines significantly.

However, if this ‘one person fighting exceptionally well’ is deferred to face the ‘independent entity capable of confronting the legion’...

The situation on the battlefield changes once again. Now, the United Kingdom can finally restart the war of ‘army against army’. The front lines, which had to retreat while enduring minimal casualties, are greatly expanded.

Now, the Seven Dragon Lords realize that they can die as well. Their choice was not special: ‘seclusion.’

As long as most of the Hero Party are human, they cannot be free from the limitation of lifespan.

Time will inevitably work in favor of the demon army. It is a battle they will win simply by waiting. The United Kingdom is merely a terminal clinging to the breathing apparatus of the Hero Party.

Finally, the hero disappears.

The mage and knight die.

The priest loses the god.

When the berserker becomes bound within the confines of the state.

And when it becomes evident that another Hero Party is being raised and that this ‘new’ Hero Party has challenged and even defeated the Seven Dragon Lords...

Now the demon army begins to understand. The ‘antibody’ known as the Hero Party might continue to appear in the future as well.

Unless the host is completely suffocated, the only future left for pathogens is annihilation.

If all the Seven Dragon Lords are killed, what remains for the demons is a centrifugal primitive tribal society. It may take hundreds of years for another ‘overwhelming powerhouse’ to emerge again.

If humans capable of accurately targeting those Seven Dragon Lords appear one group at a time across generations, what remains is one thing.

At this point, whether they are human or demon, both consider each other as terminal.

To avoid death, they must annihilate the other.

“Do you understand?”

“Shut up with your nonsense....”

With Maximilian’s words, a man spat a thick glob of saliva.

“Yeah, let’s say you’re right. Honestly, isn’t it funny? I’m not saying we should just shake hands and play some childhood games, but this war has been going on since 30 years ago...!”

“It was instigated by the Demon King. That statement is correct.”

Maximilian let out a deep sigh and loosened his eye patch. His dulled golden eyes looked down upon the man.

“From the beginning, the United Kingdom had no interest in the Demon Realm. It was too barren for humans to live, and the costs of developing it for resources were too high; it was far more efficient to confront other humans within the alliance.”

“...”

“The Demon Realm also had no interest in humans. For exactly the same reasons. There’s little to gain by poking a beehive and trying to conquer it, and demons simply are not numerous to start with. If they wage war while sacrificing their subordinates? They’ll just be devoured by other Seven Dragon Lords who are waiting for their chance at the Sacred.”

Maximilian drove his chained sword deep into the ground. Screech, the sound of the sword embedding into the ground showed that the earth itself was rejecting him.

“Only the Demon King desired this war. He broke a long peace, subordinated all the Seven Dragon Lords, and united demons, who had never been united under one will. Only one person’s intention has defined the world today.”

“...But why?”

It was a question laden with many things.

Why was this atrocity committed? Why betray the alliance? Or rather, why...

In the first place, why was this war forced upon two tribes that lived in opposing realms, shaking the boundaries and pushing them into a situation where only mutual annihilation guarantees peace?

So many lives, the despair spread across this land, the countless nations and cities destroyed by war, and the many tragedies that would arise again in the future because of it.

What, for what purpose? If it was merely for power, the Demon King would have already ruled half the world by the time he defeated the Seven Dragon Lords.

What could be gained at the war’s end was but a pyrrhic victory in a world turned to ruin, or his own death.

Why take a choice that brings nothing compared to the risks involved?

Maximilian looked down from his eyes and concluded.

“For true freedom.”

He parried the chestnut-colored glimmering spearhead without even looking.

He crushed the hands of the deceased that gripped his feet, and he shattered the specters’ grasp with just a flick of his hands.

Crushing all the patterns he had already experienced, obliterating them with all the countermeasures he had prepared, he finally came to stand before the being and asked again.

“Are you prepared for the next step?”

[Ivan Petrovich. I will remember you. I will await your demise.]

“There will be no fourth opportunity. Abiditas. I will no longer remember you.”

Ivan raised his hand and grasped Abiditas’s head. The skull, already cracked in half, screamed, but the muscles and ligaments in the arm gripping it surged like a snake.

Creak, the sound of bones grinding, as the being’s skull scattered into powder.

Then, stuffing his hand back in, he grasped the gasping vampire’s skull beneath.

Crunch.

The being writhed. Blood gushed from between the crushed fingers, only to be reabsorbed into its body. The shattered skull reintegrated, growing back with each moment.

Creak.

It was a mechanical destruction devoid of emotion. Breaking, recovering, scattering, and the time continued longing for life.

The party was standing outside the range touched by the toxin, gazing at him in a daze.

His veins pulse, red eyes, and a face soaked in poison; the look and expression below were utterly dull.

Crunch!!

The simplest and most certain way to kill the endlessly resurrecting vampire is to keep killing it endlessly until it can no longer be reborn.

Proving that ridiculous claim himself, Ivan moved his hand once more.

Creak!!

The being’s body flailed once before going limp. Blood from the broken head dripped rather than seeping back into its body.

As he looked down at it, Ivan examined the being’s shattered head.

Fear filled the dead eyes staring up at him.

“Enrique. How’s the blood?”

“Better leave some for me to eat. Seriously, I’m afraid it’ll be bad if I drink this.”

“Is that so?”

Ivan wiped the blood on his fingers and spoke.

“Now I don’t have to worry about Olegha’s subordinates.”

“Were you ever worried?”

“For you.”

Ivan’s eyes shifted toward Enrique.

“If I were concerned about vampires, it would only be for you.”

“...”

Enrique looked at Ivan, then sighed while gazing at the sky.

“A married man flirting.”

Between the cracks in the sky, the dawn was breaking.

The long rays of sunlight shining through the clouds illuminated Frechenkaya like a carpet, and the corpses laying in the path stretched lifelessly under the sunlight.

The dead of this city turned to ash and scattered. Ash to ash, dust to dust, and the dead to their land.

Enrique wavered for a moment, then shook his head and spoke.

“Go ahead. You should greet them.”

“...Hmm.”

Ivan brushed off his hands and turned his body.

In the distance, there was a group of skulls watching him.

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