Lord of Disease (JP-GL) 326

326: A Fallen Faith

In the twilight, countless lights flickered, and they surged towards us. The tips of their spears were on fire.

Samarkand, who was standing beside me, knelt.

“My master, in the name of our contract, I ask for your command.”

“Yes. In contract and in trust. I leave the support to you. I’m counting on you.”

“Understood…” The black goat, who had stood up, wavered. His horns twisted and lengthened, and his eyes turned a deep crimson. His body size hadn’t changed, but he felt a size larger, due to his overwhelming presence.

“[Fireball].”

The fireball Samarkand had chanted flew and hit the front group. Several of them were blown away, but their momentum didn’t seem to slow. More [Fireballs] were unleashed, but the ones who were blown away, who had fallen, were ignored, not even glanced at.

With the inclusion of the volunteers, their numbers were large, though their skill and equipment were lacking. Even with ten or twenty blown away, their total number didn’t seem to have changed. While Rebecca had given them a resistance to light and fire, it was only enough to make them not a weakness. I didn’t know how many of them could use offensive magic, but a normal, raging fire would still cause damage.

“—[Blizzard].”

It was a rather unimpressive spell, overshadowed by [Fireball] and [Lightning]. I had seen Samarkand use it in the fortress attack, but this time, the range was drastically increased. Even for a greater demon skilled in magic, if you increased the range that much, you couldn’t expect much power. It would be a strong wind with a little snow, at best—

I wasn’t wrong, and that was what it was, but I seemed to have underestimated Samarkand’s experience and his judgment on the battlefield.

As the blizzard—the ‘strong wind with a little snow’—licked at the enemy army, the flames on their spears, which had flared up for a moment in the wind, sputtered and, with a trail of white smoke, they went out. The lights that had been shining on the twilight battlefield went out, like the candles on a birthday cake… and a groan escaped the enemy army, and their advance visibly slowed.

And yet, the distance was closing, and just as the battle was about to begin, Samarkand chanted another spell.

“[Word of Death].”

And one of them clutched his chest and seemed to fall… but on this battlefield, an instant-death spell, which could only kill one person for its mana cost, seemed inefficient.

“Why an instant-death spell?”

“Against that many, it’s more effective to instill the fear that you might die than to actually kill them. …And one more thing.”

“One more thing?”

The enemy army had finally stopped, and a murmur was spreading. I could hear a voice, shouting at them.

“We knew an instant-death spell was coming! Don’t stop! Believe in God, and believe in your comrades!!”

“…They knew?” They had started to advance again, but their movements were clearly slower. I tilted my head.

“It is a guess, but I believe that one of them, upon seeing my master’s esteemed figure, died of fear. And that they judged it to be the work of my master’s instant-death spell. If you consider that their confusion, and their subsequent decision to charge, was due to that, then it makes sense.”

“It might make sense, but isn’t that a little too wishful, Samarkand? What do you see me as?”

“The most precious, the greatest, and the most fearsome being in this world, my master.”

I should probably discount that. Samarkand’s assessment of me was probably about eighty percent off.

“…By the way, was the range of the instant-death spell that long? Can it reach the top of the city wall from here?”

“It is probably impossible. Compared to a [Fireball], its range is much shorter. And it is more effective, and consumes less mana, if you are touching the target.”

“That’s right. It can’t reach.”

“Perhaps they felt that the majesty of my master’s figure could make the impossible possible.”

Maybe I should make it ninety percent.

Samarkand unleashed one more [Fireball], and then the two armies clashed.

“…It’s overwhelming.”

“The elite are probably on the expedition. Most of them are probably militia. And on our side, everyone has been strengthened by the battles up to now. …There is no reason for us to lose, as an army, against a disorganized mob.”

Samarkand was right. If you had the advantage in numbers and morale, you could make up for a slight difference in skill and equipment. But with Samarkand’s [Blizzard], they had lost their fire-attribute attack option, and their chilled morale was only making things worse.

The front line had already collapsed, and while they still had the advantage in numbers, they were losing them at an alarming rate, and despite the cries to believe in God, the soldiers in the rear had begun to retreat on their own.

If you could believe in a god who wouldn’t help you in a time like this, then you were a true believer. No, perhaps there was the benefit of finding peace before death.

How convenient.

The gate was still open. It had not been closed, because the retreating enemy army was rushing towards it. All we had to do was to pursue the retreating enemy.

—Where did they think they could run to?

They must have known what would happen if they abandoned their walls and their gates. They had exposed their foolishness and their arrogance, in not even considering that they might be on the defensive.

“I will leave the breaching of the gate and the suppression of the holy city to Harken and the others.”

And in another sense, there was nowhere to run. Harken and the others had not yet passed through the gate. But the holy city was already on fire. Black smoke billowed, and in the light of the flames, it melted into the darkening sky.

“We will do our job. Samarkand, activate the mana signature detection spell. It’s a little early, but we will begin the search for survivors.”

“As you wish.” Samarkand nodded.