Chapter 876: 68. Blood Feast

"What? Withdraw the army?"

Aurier stared at Kaepel in front of him, and his expression turned vicious in an instant.

"Do you even know what you’re saying?"

"N-no, Your Highness, that isn’t my meaning. I’m only delivering the order."

Kaepel shuddered so hard he did not even dare lift his head. He quickly presented, with both hands, the message that had just arrived from the Kingdom’s royal capital.

"This is His Majesty’s order."

...

Because he had been too excited these past few days, and because he had barely closed his eyes while waiting for Notasia Fortress to fall, Aurier’s eyes were bloodshot, his spirit wound into a state of abnormal excitement.

But when he saw the parchment in Kaepel’s hands, he still could not help falling silent.

Stamped upon it, clear and unmistakable, was the royal crest of the Kingdom. That meant the message Kaepel was holding was no ordinary report, but a directive from the very top of the Kingdom... an order personally issued by the king himself.

And that was precisely what confused Aurier.

Though he often called that old bastard "the old immortal" behind his back, he knew better than anyone that the man had not yet aged to the point of senility.

A creature of pure politics, a monster who had honed the arts of kingship to the very limit—even at the last moment before death, he would maintain his reason so he could keep tightening his grip on power.

And if he had not gone senile, then he should not be issuing an order this stupid and this incomprehensible.

Withdraw?

Couldn’t he see that the advantage was mine right now?

Notasia Fortress was on the verge of falling. Just recently, word had come in that only the last inner wall remained, and that only a few hundred men were still making a final desperate stand.

The fortress gates had already been breached through. The Kingdom’s armies on both sides had already begun linking up. And once that final nail was pulled out and the grain route was fully opened, the Kingdom’s army would be able to threaten the Empire’s entire northern plain.

Tasora.

Beckley.

Bulstone.

Those three resource-rich great cities, along with the vast northern territories of the Empire, would all lie fully exposed beneath the edge of the Kingdom’s advance.

Even if there was still a slight gap in national strength, the strategic contest would surely be decided here, tipping the scales of victory toward the Kingdom.

And yet now, at this critical moment, he was being ordered to withdraw?

How was that any different from being told to stop right at the crucial moment?

I’m practically at the point of pushing their base down, and you’re already voting to surrender?

"Madness."

Aurier cursed under his breath, his fury becoming harder and harder to suppress. He wanted to fling the parchment aside on the spot, refuse to hear the nonsense of that old bastard sitting comfortably in the royal capital, and simply continue at his own pace...

But in the end, in the haze of an awareness made muddy by too much excitement and too little sleep, Aurier thought for a moment and still chose to take the parchment.

To be clear, this was not because he was scared. He simply wanted to know what reason could possibly have made that old thing issue a decision this outrageous.

Aurier opened the parchment.

"Odense was taken by the Empress of the Empire?"

He froze, then kept reading.

"Duke Campbell of the Empire has led a large army through the Abyss and launched an attack on the Kingdom from the west. The Kingdom’s interior is empty and cannot withstand them."

"Therefore, for the safety of the royal capital, Prince Aurier is hereby ordered to lead the central army back at once to relieve the capital and block Duke Campbell’s forces. The eastern wing army is to fall back to the passes and resist the Empire’s coming counterattack. The western wing army is to seek an opportunity to flank the Campbell army from the side."

"...Huh?"

The lines on the parchment were short, short enough to read in less than ten seconds.

And yet they also seemed impossibly long, so long that after finishing them, Aurier stood there blankly, not even noticing that both hands clutching the parchment had already begun to tremble.

"What does this mean?"

He knew every single word, but put together like this, they became something he could no longer understand.

Ordering his central army to return to the royal capital, while the eastern and western wings stayed behind to hold and cover the withdrawal—that much he could vaguely understand. Given that old bastard’s cautious, suspicious nature, he would never allow these noble private armies—forces he could not fully control—to enter the now-fragile royal capital.

But the rest...

"What does it mean, through the Abyss? What does it mean, attacking from the west? The west... the west is the Abyss. The Abyss has demonfolk. The demonfolk are our allies. They’ve been pinning down the Empire’s most elite army at the Imperial border—Duke Campbell’s army. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? So why is Duke Campbell’s army appearing in the west and already inside the Kingdom?"

Aurier almost roared as he looked at Kaepel.

"You tell me. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?"

"I... I don’t know either..."

Kaepel looked utterly lost and shook his head in panic.

Forget Aurier’s talk of passing through the Abyss and launching an attack from the west—with his status, he did not even know the Kingdom had formed an alliance with the demonfolk.

And that proved something: Saint Peron V truly was an excellent ruler.

Whether his actions were right or wrong was another matter. But any information he chose to lock down... that information was locked down completely.

"Trash! You, and that old bastard too!"

Aurier kicked Kaepel aside. After a brief moment of thought, a cold light flashed through his eyes and he strode toward the tent entrance.

Outside the tent, atop that temporary raised platform, a slender black-robed figure stood in silence, as if gazing at the bright sun rising in the distance, or perhaps looking down upon the bloody dark slaughter below.

"How beautiful..." said the Witch of Repentance.

"The newborn sun, the arrival of death—the grandest light and the deepest darkness interweaving in a single moment. It is like the most magnificent painting in the world, so beautiful it makes one sigh."

She turned her head.

"What do you think, Your Highness?"

"Yes... beautiful..."

Wrapped in that faint, seductive fragrance, Aurier answered almost unconsciously.

No.

Something was wrong.

A slight twitch ran through Aurier’s face. Suddenly he clenched his fist, driving his nails into his own flesh.

The piercing pain forced some clarity back into his mind. He stared at the unseen face beneath the black hood and ground out through his teeth,

"You’re not one of the demonfolk. Who the hell are you?"

"Oh? Did I ever say I was?" The Witch of Repentance tilted her head in puzzlement. "Your Highness mustn’t wrong me. I never once said that."

"You—"

Aurier was just about to snap at her, but then he suddenly froze.

Thinking it over carefully... she really had never said she was demonfolk, and no one else had said so either. It had all simply been his own natural assumption.

But even if it was an assumption, under those circumstances had it not been the likeliest one?

What was wrong with him making that assumption?

Nothing, of course. If anyone was at fault, it was that old immortal who had locked down all the information.

"Heh. In some ways, Your Highness really was cast from the same mold as His Majesty," the Witch of Repentance said with a laugh, as though she had already seen straight through him.

"Shut up. Don’t compare me to that old bastard."

Aurier drew a deep breath and forcibly steadied his emotions. Whether this woman in black was demonfolk or not, if she could remain at that old man’s side, then her status as a trusted confidante was almost certainly real enough.

"What happened to the demonfolk?"

"They’re gone."

The Witch of Repentance shrugged.

"The demonfolk no longer exist in this world. The entire Abyss is now ownerless land. The reason the news has not spread is that the various powers at the top have not yet decided how to handle it... no, perhaps many of them are still not even sure it is true, and are still trying to verify it."

Though this war seemed to have been going on for a long time, in truth it had been only half a month since the demonfolk disappeared from this world.

Confusion, shock, investigation, confirmation, division of interests—half a month was nowhere near enough time to complete all of that.

That was also why Saint Peron V had been able to suppress something this enormous so completely.

"I see... so that’s how it is? Our ally vanished halfway through the war. No wonder that old bastard locked the news down."

Aurier muttered the words, and in an instant a great many things became clear to him.

After that, he asked nothing more. He turned and walked away.

"Where are you going, Your Highness?"

"Where else would I go?"

Without looking back, Aurier answered in a heavy voice,

"To withdraw."

Now that he was sure this so-called envoy was not demonfolk, and that the Kingdom no longer had the demonfolk as a powerful ally at all, there was no point staying here.

So what if they took Notasia Fortress?

So what if the point of their spear could be aimed at the Empire’s entire north?

To support this war, the Kingdom had nearly emptied its whole treasury. Otherwise it could never have assembled this million-man army, one that vastly exceeded the Empire’s forces on the front.

But by the same token, pouring the strength of the whole state into the attack had inevitably left the interior desperately hollow. If they did not go back soon, the Empress of the Empire and Duke Campbell would loot the Kingdom’s whole home bare. And if that happened, what meaning would there be in taking even the entire northern plain?

And besides...

"Chaos... is also an opportunity."

After a brief burst of fury and hatred, Aurier’s thoughts sharpened again with great speed.

He began keenly to sense that this might actually be an enormous opportunity. After all, that old bastard had made a mistake this huge. His prestige and authority were bound to suffer a devastating blow.

More and more people would begin to stop trusting him.

More and more people would begin yearning for a true great king who could lead the Kingdom out of crisis.

Yes. A great king.

If he led his army back now, won the support of a few great nobles, then he might even be able to drag that old bastard down from the position he had occupied for decades.

"I have to move quickly..."

Aurier’s pace quickened.

"Faster. I have to get there before my idiot brothers do anything stupid, and save this country."

Just moments ago he had been cursing the old bastard’s order as idiotic. Now Aurier almost wished he had wings on his back so he could fly straight to the royal capital.

Even if he really did take part of the Empire’s territory, how could that compare to turning the tide when the Kingdom was at its greatest peril?

That was right. He was going to save this country.

Now that the situation had reversed completely, the Kingdom was already teetering on the edge under the Empire’s surprise attack.

Only he—only Prince Aurier—could become the one who saved the nation...

"No."

Suddenly.

That graceful, enchanting voice, carrying the faintest trace of fragrance, yanked Aurier back out of those heroic ambitions of saving the nation from disaster.

"Your Highness, you cannot withdraw."

"...Why?"

Soft and gentle, the voice sounded like the warmest advice from a kindly older sister next door. But hidden within it was some irresistible force. Aurier’s departing steps came to a halt at once.

He could only turn back, suppress the growing unease inside him, and stare toward the eyes concealed beneath the hood.

"Why?"

"Because the dance has not ended yet, has it?"

The Witch of Repentance said, "The dance has not ended, so how could the curtain fall ahead of time?"

"What dance?"

Aurier’s hand slowly moved to the hilt of his sword as he said coldly, "I don’t recall attending any dance."

"Don’t recall? Your Highness is terribly forgetful."

The Witch of Repentance smiled gently. She pointed to the platform beneath their feet, then to the Kingdom’s soldiers farther away, helpfully refreshing Aurier’s memory.

"Do you remember? I once danced here for Your Highness, and introduced to you that magic which would bring victory..."

Ancient Magic: Arasax’s Dancing Shoes.

A magic that could make people dance forever.

Forever...

Aurier’s heart clenched. His eyes flew wide.

"Don’t tell me..."

"I told you—once the dance begins, it never stops. Just like putting on those legendary red dancing shoes..."

Step by step, the Witch of Repentance approached him and lifted a slender hand, gently stroking his cheek.

"Think, Your Highness. How long has it been since you last closed your eyes?"

...

Blinding sunlight pierced the clouds and struck Aurier’s eyes. A rush of dizziness swept over him, and once more he felt the deep exhaustion and stabbing pain buried in his head.

He was tired.

He was sleepy.

And yet some feverish excitement had always lingered in his mind. He had assumed it was simply the thrill of being on the brink of great achievement.

But now that he thought about it...

No matter how intense excitement was, how could it keep a man from sleeping for days?

And why had he accepted something so unnatural as normal?

Push the thought back a little further.

Why had he believed, from the bottom of his heart, such absurd words as: a magic that could turn soldiers into an undying army without any side effects?

The faint fragrance drifted around him, intoxicating.

"It was you—"

Aurier glared at the Witch of Repentance and snarled in a low voice, "You dared lay your influence on me. Do you know what crime that is? Kaepel! Kaepel! Bring men at once and seize this witch! No—kill her on the spot!"

Aurier was not afraid of her. He knew the black-robed woman before him was strong, but there were many powerful figures in the army too. In the middle of this military formation, he did not believe that she alone could possibly—

"Your Highness..."

Kaepel staggered out.

"I... I think something’s wrong with me..."

Aurier turned back, and terror overtook his face in an instant.

Blood was flowing from the corners of Kaepel’s mouth. Blood was flowing from his hands. His face was gaunt, his body so thin and weak it looked as though a gust of wind could blow him over.

And yet his eyes were unnaturally alive, the pupils darting back and forth as though searching for something.

"Kaepel, you..."

Aurier had never noticed Kaepel had become this emaciated. Just °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° days ago he had still been a knight capable of cutting down Imperial soldiers on the battlefield.

But now he looked like a dried corpse, gnawing at the flesh of his own hand.

The blood was flowing for that reason, dripping down along his body and pooling around his feet, making it look as though he were wearing a pair of red dancing shoes.

"Your Highness, I’m so hungry... so hungry... I want to eat something so badly..."

Kaepel kept searching, searching, but in this camp full of nothing but his own kind, there was nothing he wanted.

Grrr—

At the same time, Aurier too felt a fierce wave of hunger.

"Of course you’re hungry. After dancing for so long, your stomachs are already empty. If you do not eat now, you’ll die."

The Witch of Repentance clapped her hands.

"Go. The refreshments for the dance have already been prepared, right there... go, eat your fill, and then continue dancing."

As if guided by some invisible hand, Kaepel—who had still been searching in confusion—suddenly found a direction.

He turned, ecstasy breaking across his face, and sprinted at full speed toward the south, toward the boundless plain.

Rumble!

The earth shook.

Aurier lowered his head and looked down. The military formation of hundreds of thousands beneath the platform collapsed in an instant. Those soldiers tore away the ragged armor hanging from their bodies, revealing frames that had already become even more gaunt than Kaepel’s after days of uninterrupted "dancing."

And then...

They pounced on their own comrades.

Notasia Fortress had already been breached through. The two armies had linked up into one.

The soldiers who had come from the fortress side were still sunk in the joy of finally taking the fortress.

They did not know of the Kingdom’s crisis.

They did not know this victory meant nothing at all.

And they knew even less that during those uninterrupted days of "dancing," the comrades on this side of the fortress had already turned into starving monsters.

And so a bloody "buffet" began.

Caught by utterly unprepared surprise, the "food" did not even have time to mount anything resembling a real counterattack.

Bloodlight dyed the earth red.

Hell descended beneath the pass.

Inside the army camp, there stood a statue of the Goddess erected by devout believers, gazing down on everything with pity and doing nothing at all.

Only when the feast of blood ended did the "dancers," their feet in "red dancing shoes," rise again and follow in the direction Kaepel had gone, seeking the next dance, the next banquet.

"W-why... why..."

Aurier sprawled on the ground, both hands clutching his abdomen hard, trying to suppress the hungry thirst surging up from the depths of his soul.

"Was this too... was this his order too?"

The instant the riot began, Aurier understood.

To infiltrate the entire army this silently and this thoroughly, this black-robed woman had to possess authority no lower than his own—perhaps even greater than his—otherwise those top-tier powerhouses would never have looked on at this transformation with cold indifference.

But no matter how he tried, he could not understand it.

Was his royal father’s plan really to turn the Kingdom’s most elite direct army, numbering in the hundreds of thousands, into monsters like this?

And these monsters were supposed to protect the Kingdom?

"No."

The Witch of Repentance denied it with a radiant smile.

"This differs from His Majesty’s will by only a tiny little bit. Yes, only a tiny bit. Overall, there really isn’t much difference."

"You—"

Aurier staggered to his feet, drew his sword, and thrust.

Naturally, it was blocked with ease.

"Still... there is one thing about His Majesty’s will that I can confirm," the Witch of Repentance said. Far from angered by the sneak attack, she sounded almost tender.

"W-what?" The viciousness drained from Aurier’s face, leaving only confusion behind.

"That is..."

The Witch of Repentance leaned in close, carrying that intoxicating fragrance, and whispered into Aurier’s ear, word by word:

"Your Highness... from beginning to end, you were nothing more than a discarded piece."