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Chapter 445: The Kingslayer—Georgia Hadrian
🕑 Added 2025-05-16 15:05:03 +0000 UTCCharlot Mecklenburg stared intently at the battlefield. Before him stood Georgia Hadrian, a peerless military genius who had risen to prominence in mere days. Charlot's heart was filled with tension.
Even so, he was confident. Even if Georgia Hadrian were ten times stronger, at best, the count could ensure his own survival against an alliance of dozens of Saint ranks. However, there was no way he could guarantee the safety of Emperor Yannis Hadrian.
If this count intended to take Yannis Hadrian away, Charlot had already resolved to order the emperor's execution. He would burden the count with the infamy of a kingslayer, stripping him of the moral high ground in the war.
Yet, Charlot's nerves remained on edge. He feared such a formidable opponent.
At his core, Charlot was nothing more than an ordinary transmigrator. In this life, he had only ever served as a civil servant, not a fearless warrior.
He knew his plan was the right course of action, but it did little to dispel his inner unease.
As Georgia Hadrian approached further, Charlot shouted, “Forgive me, Count! Please maintain your altitude and do not approach His Majesty any closer.”
“Otherwise, I will have no choice but to order their attack.”
Georgia Hadrian glanced at the thirty-some Saint ranks standing at the ready, including a familiar Black Phoenix warrior. He drew a deep breath and slowly ascended into the air, withdrawing to his group of Saint ranks. There, he seized a knight's lance from one of his comrades.
Before the gathered crowd, he roared fiercely and hurled the lance with all his might.
Charlot was stunned. For a moment, he could not even think of how to respond.
The Saint ranks on his side reacted swiftly. Some threw their lances in an attempt to intercept Georgia Hadrian's strike. However, others hesitated, realizing that engaging would leave them unable to stop Georgia's forces from rescuing the emperor.
In that fleeting moment of disarray, under the countless gazes from Black Phoenix City, the knight's lance wielded by Count Georgia Hadrian streaked like a dragon and struck like a venomous serpent. It crashed through seven or eight intercepting lances, piercing straight through Emperor Yannis Hadrian's chest.
The lance's momentum carried it further, slamming into Black Phoenix City's defensive barrier and shattering it.
Emperor Yannis Hadrian lowered his gaze laboriously, staring at the gaping hole in his chest, through which he could see the ground far below. Trembling, he tried to speak, but his life force ebbed away. His head tilted, and he died instantly.
Charlot drew a sharp breath as his gaze fixed on the knight’s lance embedded atop the city walls. He finally understood that the count harbored true murderous intent. That lance had been meant to kill the emperor, with no ulterior motives.
At the same time, Charlot realized that even the miraculous defensive barrier of a divine structure had its limits.
Georgia Hadrian picked up another knight's lance and commanded, “Attack the city!”
Charlot bellowed, “Cresto!”
Cresto inhaled deeply and replied, “Understood.”
He floated upward, his body surrounded by countless radiant glows.
Charlot had already activated the Radiant Holy Kingdom, a legendary warship. Though it had not been fully repaired and could not sail, it could still function as a makeshift fortress.
While Cresto was no match for Count Georgia Hadrian, with the support of the legendary warship, he might be able to put up a fight.
Not to mention, the divine structure’s barrier still protected the sky.
Yet soon after, Charlot heard a deafening boom. Dozens of Saint ranks slammed into the barrier, their assault ferocious and unrelenting.
The Saint ranks on Charlot’s side soared into the air as well. Among them, some were captains who quickly aligned their battle energy with their knightly orders, relying on the divine barrier for support as they clashed fiercely with Georgia Hadrian’s Saint ranks.
This time, there was no semblance of a restrained conflict.
It was not the kind of coordinated warfare Charlot had grown accustomed to.
Nor was there any overwhelming advantage on either side. Within minutes of the battle beginning, a scream rang out. Baron Exon, his entire body engulfed in flames, had his protective battle energy shattered and fell from the sky with a wretched cry.
He was the first Saint rank to perish.
Charlot harbored no fondness for Baron Exon, but the baron had been his first noble retainer. The loss struck a chord within him, and his emotions wavered.
Soon, a Saint rank under Georgia Hadrian's command, a Black Phoenix warrior, also fell. He had been struck by a black dragon’s flaming lance, his body set ablaze as he plummeted from the sky, dying in a manner identical to Baron Exon.
No one realized that the knight’s lance wielded by the old lizardman was, in fact, the Blood Rhinoceros.
Charlot, knowing he lacked the strength to participate in the battle among the Saint ranks, had lent the Blood Rhinoceros to the black dragon for use.
The Blood Rhinoceros, blessed by a goddess and imbued with the essence of the Flame Evil God Anururu, could transform into a supreme-grade Saint rank knight’s lance. Its wielder could draw upon a portion of the evil god’s power.
The black dragon soared across the battlefield, slaying enemies with relentless valor. Having borrowed the power of the Blood Rhinoceros several times, he infused his bloodthirsty combat energy into the lance forged from the essence of the Flame Evil God Anururu. Each strike seemed to surge with ever-growing power. In a flash, another Saint rank was taken down.
But in the next instant, two newly allied Black Phoenix Saint ranks under Charlot were also slain. One was cleaved in half, while the other had his skull shattered.
In less than ten minutes, five Saint ranks had fallen.
On no prior battlefield, not even at Ferranden, had so many Saint ranks died in a single engagement.
Charlot’s heart bled. These Saint ranks were meant to be the foundation of his future.
Yet already, three of them were dead. How many more would fall in this battle?
Charlot cursed his own weakness, lamenting that he was only at the seventeenth rank, far too weak to join such a fight. All he could do was summon eight Flame Dragon’s Hands, shooting endlessly into the sky.
The West Wind Knight Order’s sharpshooters also fired at the heavens. While they could not aid their allies directly, they could at least deplete the enemy Saint ranks’ energy—a small victory in itself.
The battle for Black Phoenix City would later be known as the Blood Rain War.
Every few minutes, another Saint rank fell from the sky, raining blood upon the city below. The carnage was unparalleled, marking it as the most brutal conflict of the Old Continent War.
No one foresaw the far-reaching consequences of this battle.
Nor did anyone realize it marked the end of the Black Phoenix Dynasty, remembered as its final war.
Charlot’s bloodshot eyes stayed fixed on the sky.
With each Saint rank that fell, his blood boiled. These were his hard-earned retainers, each irreplaceably valuable.
Charlot, a leader who hated sacrificing even ordinary soldiers, could not bear to see his Saint ranks slaughtered like livestock.
As his fury roared within him, a surge of power erupted from his body. Unconsciously, the twelfth Blood Vortex within him was unlocked. The strength that had long been stuck at the seventeenth rank surged violently, shattering the bottleneck and propelling him to the eighteenth rank.
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