The Requiem Of An Empress 34 1St Tuor: Yi Sun-Sin

The younger Percival tilted his head as he looked at Mikhail with a bit of curiosity. He then lowered his sword, pointing its blade towards the ground, before properly facing his sibling.

"Commander, you must have forgotten that you're not the type to be eager in devising a scheme, seeing that the enemy is right in front of you. You've never concerned yourself of our lives during a battle. What seems to be the problem now? Are you frightened of a measly demon?" Khamael addressed the warning while removing his brother's hand that was on his left shoulder. Albeit speaking in a frigid tone, his words were able to strike Mikhail's conscience several times.

The knights, who heard the remarks uttered by their comrade, inwardly cringed of how injudicious they were. However, they do have a mutual understanding of their knight commander's inclinations.

Meanwhile, Mikhail was struggling to find an excuse for his response, owing to the adamance in telling his true feelings. Although, the Rounds already knew of the reason to his silence.

'Honestly, he could simply say that he's worried of Khamael.' Sarakiel thought to himself, preventing a smile from showing on his lips.

By virtue of the demons and monsters delaying their a.s.sault, the group was permitted to converse at their leisure. Withal, they ought to come to an agreement lest plunging into a skirmish against the Demon n.o.ble unprepared. Hence, Mikhail decided to talk regarding their circ.u.mstances, dismissing Khamael's query.

"The scrolls are animate, so they would move when they are nearby their targets. Still, the movements are un.o.btrusive at best. As stated in Sarakiel's report for the incident in Ikdes, the scrolls began squirming in his coat once we're only a kilometre away from the n.o.bles. At this distance, one of the scrolls will be able to recognize if that demon is their's."

The moment that Mikhail was done with his explanation, the owners quickly took out the scrolls from their pockets, attempting to detect any responses.

Despite observing for a while, none of the scrolls moved, not even a fidget.

"I am afraid that the scroll that could capture this Demon n.o.ble belongs to Lord Claudas, Lord Morholt, or Lord Sagramore." Sarakiel expressed his unease over the unfavourable coincidence as he stared at the quiescent leader of the execrable army.

Mikhail breathed out heavily, crouching to pick up Bors that was lying on the ground.

"Let's just antic.i.p.ate that those brutes won't get lost on their way here." Mikhail said as he straightened his back. Nevertheless, he doubted his own belief since he knows the propensities of his knights to get off of the track of their mission.

Subsequently, he met the gaze of his younger brother.

"Khamael, commence forcible detention."

Finally, the scowl on Khamael's face was replaced with excitement before he replied.

"Yes, my Lord."

Thereupon, Mikhail made his way en route the dead centre of the encirclement; Khamael trailed him shortly, keeping the one-meter distance between him and the Commander.

"How many legion gates are currently open?"

"An exact forty, My Lord. Even so, I surmise that this Demon n.o.ble has a lot more at its disposal."

"Exterminate the weaklings first. We will incarcerate the Demon n.o.ble until the three stooges arrive." Mikhail ordered all the while he retreated three meters behind Khamael.

"As you wish."

Khamael stepped forward and penetrated the dirt right in front of him using his Holy Sword. Latterly, he shut his eyes ahead of ordering the mana to draw a magic circle with a diameter of almost 10 meters. At the least, an array of this scale would take a minute to outline. Henceforth, the caster will be absolutely defenceless in this stage.

It was Mikhail's task to protect Khamael throughout the time he's casting the enchantment. This is the very confinement strategy that the Rounds utilized back in their 2nd and 3rd encounter with the Demon n.o.bles. It was effective, yet solely in the restraining aspect. The spell wasn't qualified to persist activation for more than an hour, absent an artefact.

In spite of the fact that Mikhail did not let go of his scrutiny on the Demon n.o.ble's figure, the ent.i.ty adeptly vanished from his sight. This made the Commander hastily scan his surroundings to try and find the demon.

Once he spotted the main enemy, the p.r.i.c.kling shivers that ran down his spine prompted him to act.

'This f*cker! Do not touch Khamael!'

Only a blink had pa.s.sed when Mikhail came into view in between the Demon n.o.ble and Khamael. He duly released Gallahad from his grip as he raised Bors above his head.

With his left hand clutching the handle and the right on the tip of his sword's blade, the Commander braced himself for the incoming blow from the axe that had a blade taller than him.

"d.a.m.n this sh*t!"

Mikhail couldn't help but utter a curse as he gritted his teeth upon receiving the force of the collision. He foresaw that it wouldn't be easy. Still, not as heavy as clashing with a giant who could move mountains with a flick of its fingers.

He tightened the grasp that he had on Gallahad; the sword's blade was now digging through the calloused skin of his closed hand. Furthermore, the ground beneath his feet collapsed, unable to bear the pressure of the impact.

" ---- ------- ---------- -- -- -------- --------- -- --- ---- "

"Stop talking you f*cker!" He shouted, annoyed by the ringing sound which violated his sense of hearing.

Even though he had a staggering height of 198 centimetres, Mikhail had to strain his neck to glimpse at his towering opponent's expression.

What provoked Mikhail's dignity was the demon's sneer that was plastered in the middle of its head; it was laid out on a mouth like hole dribbling with thick black liquid. The indignation from being insulted accompanied him with the ample strength to parry its axe.

The knight deflected the demon's weapon leftwards; Gallahad scattered noxious sparks that left burnt marks on the dirt, as it slid on the blade of the axe.

After he freed himself from the deadlock, Mikhail immediately docked his head. Then, using his right leg as an axle, he rotated his body, dodging the axe that plunged itself in the dirt where his left feet was placed prior. He accomplished this evasion by a hair's breadth, too close for comfort.

Concurrently, Iophiel, who was watching from afar, was restless because he wanted to partic.i.p.ate in the fight. Duke Cynan was about to initiate his stride, but Duke Helian halted his intention.

"Lord Cynan, we will be caught up in Lord Khamael's spell if we enter the fight in this timing. Our knight captain is not that weak to require our futile help." Sarakiel rea.s.sured his comrade and himself simultaneously.

The three have blockaded themselves inside a borg that Haniel, the defence specialist, erected. It was situated barely outside the magic array that Khamael was constructing.

"I'm perfectly aware of that! Yet-" Iophiel interrupted his protest by clenching his fists up to the point where his nails punctured his palms, allowing blood to trickle down from the wounds.

Duke Helian took a gander at the attraction of the battlefield as he spoke, "I am frustrated too, and so is Lord Tristan." Sarakiel shared the sentiments of Iophiel. Truthfully speaking, it is the initial who wanted to join the battle the most.

"A little bit more, Lord Khamael is about to utter his incantation."

Ensuing from his notice was a dreary quietude as they watched the progressions with antic.i.p.ation.

Ad interim, Mikhail rushed to pick up Gallahad, which was sprawled on the patch of sod beside Khamael. Following that, he shrouded himself with a shield.

"Deo Vindice"

Consequently, he returned in his previous spot to confront the Demon n.o.ble. He welcomed the creature by decussating his two swords to impede another possible strike.

As expected, the Demon n.o.ble swung his axe resulting to its blade hitting the point where the two swords were connected. Mikhail was just waiting for this juncture heretofore articulating a spell.

"Igne Natura Renovatur Integra"

Once the spell was activated, a three-meter wide pillar of fire erupted from the land directly beneath the n.o.ble, engulfing it in sweltering holy flames. Destructive flares hovered all over the battlefield, incinerating anything that they touched. By the same token, the spell wiped out the first line of defence of the minor demons and monsters' circular formation.

Only a portion of the axe blade, still linked to the swords, was outside of the range of the pillar. Nonetheless, the tip of the demon's weapon was covered with a speck of ice, hurriedly creeping its way towards the n.o.ble.

A second later, the pillar became frozen, trapping the Demon n.o.ble in a cylindrical prison of permafrost.