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Chapter 126: The Spiritual Leader, The Final Totem
🕑 Added 2025-01-11 04:50:08 +0000 UTCA young man clad in exquisite armor, gripping a black Knight’s Lance, gazed at the remnants of defeated troops gathered before him. Thoughts of the slain Jonan ignited a blazing fire within him. If Charlot Mecklenburg were standing before him, he would have gladly thrust his lance through that scoundrel’s chest.
Over a dozen South Seraph restorationist generals huddled together. Each bore expressions of dejection, tinged with sorrow; some even wept quietly.
Charlot Mecklenburg had no idea who Jonan was.
Jonan had been the last prince of South Seraph and its sole remaining royal family member. If he had chosen to surrender, he would have been guaranteed at least the title of viscount. If the emperor was especially pleased, perhaps even an earldom. However, Jonan was also the ultimate spiritual leader of the South Seraph restorationists—the last totem of the South Seraph people.
His death was as catastrophic to South Seraph as the assassination of Grand Duke Ferdinand—a calamity akin to the collapse of the heavens and the roaring of mountains and seas.
The people of South Seraph could not bear this outcome.
The young knight spoke resolutely, “We must capture Silver Dove Castle and kill everyone inside. The murderer who killed Jonan—I must slay him with my own hands and make him endure every conceivable torture before he dies.”
“Even if we succeed, it will not bring Jonan back.”
“I am guilty.”
Tears streamed down the young knight’s face. To him, Jonan was like a father, having raised him from an orphan to a high-ranking knight. Jonan had no talent for the extraordinary, but as a young man, he had studied at a university in Byron. There, his skill in teaching and mentoring younger generations shone. It was Jonan who taught him the Ebrelrahan clan’s Blood Furnace, enabling him to master their knightly lance technique, the Golden Requiem, to an unparalleled level.
The Ebrelrahan clan, one of the six vampiric royal families, stood alongside the Adonis clan and the five other great houses. They were hailed as the premier vampiric knightly clan. Their secret Blood Furnace, the highest-ranked Knightly Breathing Technique among the thirty-seven vampiric houses, combined meditation and the lance technique Golden Requiem, producing generations of high-ranking knights and even Saint rank knights.
The secret methods of the Ebrelrahan clan rivaled the legacies of Hartington Thunder and Storm University as one of the Old Continent’s premier knightly traditions.
An elderly mage tried to console him. “Hughes, do not blame yourself too much. You did your utmost. It was that Byron man who was too cunning. I’ve captured one of their men and extracted some information. With the help of divination, I’ve determined his origins. He is from Behemoth, studied at Strasbourg University, and has now returned to serve his homeland.”
“He still has family in Behemoth…”
Hughes leapt to his feet and roared, “I will kill his family and make him taste the pain of losing loved ones.”
“Where are his family members?”
The elderly mage sighed. “According to my divination, he has severed ties with his family, so my magic cannot locate them. However, we can interrogate some Behemothians for information. Such a prominent individual, becoming a military commander at such a young age, must be well-known in Behemoth.”
“This man is truly devious. When Jonan introduced himself on the battlefield, he declared, ‘I am Jonan of the South Seraph restorationists! Many of you must have heard my name.’”
“Yet he presented himself as, ‘I am the commander of the Silver Dove Castle garrison and leader of the West Wind Knight Order, Jonan.’ He completely omitted his own name.”
“But such minor tricks are futile. I will uncover his identity soon enough.”
Hughes perked up and commanded, “Send scouts to investigate young nobles who attended Strasbourg University. Focus on those from aristocratic families. Someone capable of commanding Silver Dove Castle must be…”
“How could I be so foolish? The commander of Silver Dove Castle must be the son of Baron Feller.”
The elderly mage awkwardly interjected, “No, I’ve already checked. Baron Feller’s eldest son is only fifteen.”
“Then it must be a nephew or a relative,” Hughes insisted. “Pursue this line of inquiry, and we’ll uncover the truth quickly.”
“And send for reinforcements immediately. We must launch another attack on Silver Dove Castle.”
The elderly mage sighed and began arranging the necessary tasks.
Hughes cast a glance at the South Seraph generals, then at the ten Byron knights standing nearby like flagpoles, their postures rigid. These knights were from the Arthur Clan, having trained from a young age in the clan’s Blood Clan Verbal Spellcasting, which specialized in Original Blood Ignition. Initially intended to serve as personal guards for the Arthur Clan’s direct descendants, they had been deployed to protect Jonan on this occasion.
No one had anticipated that Charlot Mecklenburg, so cunning and daring, would single-handedly charge through thousands of soldiers and slay Jonan while the Arthur Clan’s guards were in action.
Hughes was tormented by the memory. He could not fathom how, as a high-ranking knight adept in the Blood Furnace and the Golden Requiem, he could lose Jonan to Charlot right before his eyes.
He overlooked a crucial detail: Charlot cared little for combat conventions. If a sword served him, he used a sword. If an axe was better, he used an axe. If an Anti-Space Long-Range Rifle worked, he used that. If a Firequell Silver Rhino was available, he deployed it.
In contrast, Hughes clung to the chivalric code, insisting on wielding a Knight’s Lance, refusing to carry firearms, and believing his mastery of high-ranking knightly lance techniques could vanquish any foe.
This divergence in philosophy and personality led to drastically different outcomes.
Despite his sorrow, Hughes steeled himself. Jonan had left no heirs—whether due to natural causes or the toll of years spent on the road for the restoration effort. Jonan had always regarded Hughes as his successor. Though grief-stricken, Hughes recognized his responsibility to carry forward the South Seraph restorationist cause.
Hughes threw himself into rallying the defeated troops, gathering intelligence, and requesting reinforcements.
Meanwhile, Charlot Mecklenburg was anxiously awaiting the next assault from the South Seraph restorationists.
His earlier efforts in battle had been erased; he now had to repel eighteen more attacks from the South Seraph restorationists to transform Silver Dove Castle into a labyrinth.
At this moment, Charlot, having finished arranging military affairs, had returned to the castle. This time, he felt more at ease. He selected six extraordinary weapons to distribute to Dolores Soumet, Frederica, Yellow Bear, Dubin Alger, and two other transcendents whose identities had been revealed during the battle.
The two transcendents were long-time residents of Silver Dove Castle who had made the beautiful city their home, married, and started families. Their loyalty to Silver Dove Castle was unquestionable.
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