“I just realized.”

“What?”

“Today marks the end of my first year since being deployed out here.”

Vetsmon tightened down the harness around his body, making sure his jetpack was snug. Other Raiders were already lining up. 

There was turbulence despite the plane having shields, Vetsmon able to sense the spellfire detonating around them. It was a new species the Scourge was rolling out and unfortunately they had to be the first to encounter them. 

“30 to drop!”

There was a yell, Vetsmon’s eyes turning as the hatch of the plane dropped. 

He stood, walking to the front of the line and peering over the edge. 

He could see the battlefield. Thousands of templars were forcing back the Scourge, the land a sea of blood and fire in his vision. This singular battle had been ongoing for days now. Vetsmon himself was exhausted, having repeatedly fought the most powerful Royals on the island. 

But today, it would all end. Their mission this time was simply a drop into the heart of the Scourge’s final resistance, the last Nexus. The year long war for this landmass would be won with this decisive blow. 

Vetsmon suddenly saw the green light, looking back at those with him. 

The Order’s best, all of them Raiders from Tier 1 teams and quite used to being thrown into the most dangerous situations known to man. After being equipped with weapons and gear of vastly improved utility, courtesy of John Cooper, their effectiveness as a strike force was unmatched by any other throughout the Order’s history. 

Despite only approaching Authority 9, Vetsmon still found himself on this team. He was surrounded by those almost exclusively stronger than him, including Marshals and Brigadiers. 

His enemies would be just as strong. 

One of the Marshals stepped up next to him, looking down and nodding. 

“The end of the first phase. Let’s get this shit over with so we can go back home.”

His voice crackled over comms, the sign of mana interference, before stepping off and plummeting through the sky. 

Vetsmon followed, everyone behind him throwing themselves through the hatch. 

His arms and legs were tucked as he felt the wind against his armor. Nearby anti-air spellfire from Scourge exploded around them, impacting against his armor with waves of fire and earthen shrapnel. 

He could see the back line of the Scourge, dense with Royals and towering behemoths. There were Bombardos slinging shells of poisonous miasma into the ranks of marching templars, tanks, and armored vehicles. Planes were dropping bombs by the hundred and scorching the earth with fire while demolishing battle lines every time the Scourge tried to shore them up. 

The flag of the Holy See was waved across the Templar front. Some were scorched, others torn, but none had fallen. Despite the battle being worthy of the next generation’s history books, mortality rates were at an all time low. 

Vetsmon knew that the Order had prepared for far worse. Not even they could’ve predicted how effective John Cooper’s inventions would be. 

This war would be studied for years to come, already considered a turning point in the existential fight against the Scourge. 

Vetsmon’s jetpack flared with fiery thrust, slowing his descent, but not too much. He found one of the 50 meter tall behemoths stomping around within the walls of the Nexus nest, redirecting himself and cutting his jetpack at the perfect moment. 

He plummeted straight through the behemoth, its thick chitin armor unable to handle the impact. His armor locked up with the contact and when he hit the floor, he felt his legs nearly buckle, a few of his muscles and tendons straining. 

Far better than the last time he pulled this stunt. 

His vigor was already circulating with every heartbeat, a bit of adrenaline kicking him awake as he brought out his sword and shield amidst a pile of flesh. The behemoth was still alive despite having a Vetsmon-sized hole through its spine, but being mission killed, the man simply stepped out. 

He’d let it suffer. 

The rest of his team made their impacts, some doing just as he did and taking out behemoths and Royals with their mass. The enemies around them barely knew what was going on, thinking it some new human weapon. 

The adaptive camouflage was working. 

As each of the Raiders rose from the dust of their hot drop, they looked around and suddenly moved. 

Vetsmon found a target for himself, as did all the others. Amidst the towering spires and nests of unholy abominations and Scourge spawn, he saw the blaring beacons of venomous power, sitting around Authority 10. 

There were dozens of them, and the Templars were still breaking through the walls of the Nexus. They were all alone in the heart of the enemy. 

Just as the mission called for. 

A monster jumped at Vetsmon, his hand shooting out and grabbing its head before crushing it with his fingers. He dropped the corpse, seeing a field of hellspawn. 

They were all weak, mere breeders, slaves, and their offspring. 

Vetsmon raised his sword, slashing in a wide arc before him. 

A wave of Vigor was released, glistening white, and it washed over every helpless spawn and slave. Powerless before his might, they were slaughtered and evaporated with just a single attack. 

But there were more. There always were. Seeing one of the breeding nests, Vetsmon bounded over and landed atop the writhing mound of flesh. He took out a charge and planted it before jumping off. 

After a handful of seconds, the charge suddenly drove itself into the mound with an explosion, digging deep into the nest’s heart before detonating with enough power to send the entire nest airborne as nothing but chunks and droplets of vaporizing blood. 

He marched through the breeding fields, quickly getting surrounded by Royals of all Authorities. Most were more powerful than him, all the weaker ones doing battle with the Templars. 

He handled them as he always did. With overwhelming strength and resilience, he slaughtered every Royal that dared step into his path. In the distance, Vetsmon could hear the battles of the other squads. All of them, like him, were spreading out and finding their own targets. 

They were there for nothing more than absolute destruction and carnage. 

As the premier of the Church’s military, the most powerful soldiers in the world, it was their job to slaughter the most dangerous of the Scourge so the Templars could march forth with impunity and numbers. 

That included the two Sovereign Royals on the island. 

One had been killed just a month ago in a precision strike. The other had escaped and was hiding within the tower at the center of the Nexus. 

Vetsmon’s gaze turned after he cut through another Royal, seeing a King Blood charge toward him. It was from the Anarchy bloodline, wielding multiple weapons with no sense of self preservation, standing at 4 meters tall. 

The incoming Royals backed off quickly, not willing to get in the way of that monster. Vetsmon found it convenient. There’d be no interruptions. 

It was Authority 10. Just a year ago, Vetsmon couldn’t imagine himself fighting against an Authority 10 King Blood. 

He was still only Authority 8, on the verge of advancing, having yet to receive a single Crown or Invocation. Those would come after this battle, after he advanced to Authority 9. The Crown he would receive then would be among the best. 

Until then, he would remain far weaker than the enemy charging toward him. 

But in front of such powerful foes, it wasn’t his job to kill. 

He charged forward with his shield at his greatest speed, covering 200 meters of ground in seconds. The King Blood charged with just as much ferocity, and the two collided head on. 

Vetsmon felt his entire body jolt, the impact of muscle, metal, and Vigor creating a shockwave that would’ve rang Vetsmon’s ears if not for his helmet. 

Yet despite being outclassed in power, he wasn’t outclassed in mass. His armor, several times heavier than himself, and his shield, almost as heavy as his entire set of armor, gave him the advantage against a foe anybody else at his level would only despair to see. 

The King Blood crumpled against his bulwark and was launched away. It flew through the air with a gut churning roar. 

Vetsmon glanced at an indicator in his vision, fuzzy due to the amount of corrupted Magika in the air, but still legible. 

A spell formed behind the King Blood as it was about to hit the ground. A fraction of a second later, razor sharp spikes drove from the earth and skewered the King Blood like it didn’t descend from Anarchy. 

Its arms were nearly torn from its body, its torso a mass of thorns and blades. Blood poured down the spikes, the King Blood’s two heads frozen in shock. 

Then the spikes exploded, the fragments reducing the King Blood’s body to gore. 

Killed with a single well placed spell. Vetsmon glanced over and saw one of his Brigadiers standing in combat, two other King Bloods attacking him. 

No words exchanged, Vetsmon turned and ran off toward another power signature. He found more enemies of his power level, behemoths, Royals, and King Bloods alike. Many times, he’d encounter enemies far more powerful than himself, yet there would always be support. He’d never have to fight them alone for too long. 

Thanks to the magic of technology and Aura, everyone was aware of every enemy within the Nexus. All Vetsmon had to do was send out a signal, and the nearest Raider would spare him a spell or blade after some time. He just had to stall any enemy he couldn’t outright kill. 

But it wasn’t without cost. 

He bounded across the unholy grounds of hell and dropped charges and bombs where he needed to while fighting his enemies. He killed almost every Scourge spawn he came across, wiping them out by the hundred and thousand. It enraged every monster around him, and that was exactly what he wanted. 

He would inflict as much physical and psychological pain as possible, and he would do it joyfully. 

This went on for many minutes. He and the others from the Order had leveled a quarter of the Nexus with their battles by the time the Templars started swarming in through the outermost walls and torching everything to the ground. 

Everything was going as expected, and that’s when Vetsmon encountered it. 

It wasn’t the Sovereign overseeing the Nexus. It was an Authority 11 King Blood. 

Vetsmon could see its light before he saw its figure. He felt his Aura pulled into it but the devices his armor was geared with created a sharp barrier between them. 

Then he saw the beautiful silver armor crest a mound of corpses, the being within it turning its head to him. He stood his ground, his heart pounding in anxiety as the light poured over the area.

He heard the alarms of the Aura devices on his armor start to overload and fry as the King Blood of Unholy Light lifted its sword. The blade was stabbed down into the corpses below it, liquid radiance washing over them, transforming them. 

Screams of the damned echoed straight into Vetsmon’s mind. The mound of flesh rose, the King Blood stepping off as a gargantuan monster of organs, bones, and twisted muscle crawled to its feet. 

Vetsmon tried to contact someone, but he only got errors as the device failed. The light locked down every kind of magic in the area. He was cut off. 

He trusted that someone would get to him in time, but until then, he was on his own. 

He grit his teeth as the King Blood simply watched him. Then the flesh monster moved, lunging toward him with uncharacteristic agility. It brought down a fist of screaming mouths and teeth, Vetsmon’s mind being bombarded with the agonizing voices of those he loved. 

In response, he simply raised his shield, flesh splattering across the metal. He was still brought down to a knee, a swing of the sword releasing enough Vigor to blow the arm away and give him respite. 

He stood back up before charging at the chimera, deflecting another attack with his shield before slashing and stabbing with his sword. Enough Vigor poured off of him to wipe out several Authority 9 Royals, and yet it only left mortal wounds on the monster. 

He cut off its arms, which writhed with despairing cries. It continued slamming into him, bone spurs leaving dents in his shield and armor, the sheer weight and strength, fueled by the corrupted biological magic of Unholy Light, causing his limbs to shake. 

He held himself together even as muscles pulled and bones trembled. He felt blood in his mouth from the waves of impact having shaken his organs. 

The pain only woke him up, more adrenaline surging through his body. 

He used the weight of his shield to slam the chimera back, sending it to the floor before hacking away at it with his sword and emissions of Vigor. His arms nearly tore with the strain of swinging his longsword, which had enough weight to surpass war hammers and maces. 

There was little technique behind it. Vetsmon knew that he couldn’t compare to masters of the blade. 

He also knew that he didn’t need to. He had strength, and with it he surpassed the need for excessive thought behind his actions. 

Especially against monsters like this. 

The chimera’s light started to dim after Vetsmon had reduced it to pieced-apart limbs and chunks. Then, when he delivered a killing blow to its central mass, the light vanished. 

That’s when he turned to the King Blood, which merely watched the entire fight. Vetsmon knew he didn’t have to worry about it attacking him from the back. These beings thought themselves so prideful, so superior, that there was no need for backstabbing tricks. They didn’t have honor. They just had complacency. 

Backed by incredible strength, of course. 

They liked to play with their prey. They liked to watch them suffer, to watch them despair. In fact, the Unholy Light Bloodline corrupted humans through their fights. 

Vetsmon had been in some of those fights recently. He had learned their mannerisms, their techniques. He also learned how painful a fight with one of these monsters could be. 

His heart rate spiked as the King Blood flourished its own sword, feeling a large scar on his body ache. 

His eyes glanced around, still seeing nothing but the nearby field of blood and flesh and the cage of light he was stuck in. He wondered where his help was, wondered if this King Blood was actually managing to hide itself from the others. Or perhaps other King Bloods surfaced, forcing the others into long fights. 

Both could be true, as well. But when Vetsmon saw the King Blood charge him, he knew he was in for the worst. 

He swung his sword with all his strength, meeting the King Blood’s strike. Both swords were stopped at the clash, a couple muscles in Vetsmon’s arm tearing. 

The King Blood followed up with another strike that seemed to snake around his arm. He moved his shield, barely managing to block. 

The metal fractured, a large crack appearing on its surface. Vetsmon felt his forearm fracture with the impact, but his shield didn’t drop. 

He leaned with the blow to dampen it, just slightly, but then the King Blood raised its foot and kicked. He went flying, another dent in the shield. 

After flipping and recovering, he stood his ground and barely managed to catch sight of the King Blood before it brought down its sword upon him. He lifted his shield and the blade cut into its edge. Vetsmon used that, twisting the shield and bringing down the King Blood. He ditched his sword, a knife appearing in his hands which he drove straight into the King Blood’s armor with all the speed he could muster. 

The tip of the knife, made out of an Authority 10 Fire Mana Crystal, detonated with the most explosive spell in the Order’s arsenal. The force blew the two away from each other, Vetsmon tumbling across the ground for a few dozen yards before managing to recover. 

He looked up at the King Blood, already standing. It looked down at its armor, blown apart to reveal smooth white flesh, now bloodied and torn apart. 

It looked like nothing more than a superficial wound. Vetsmon knew the damage was more extensive than that, despite the look. He could feel it himself. 

He glanced down as his cracked armor suddenly fell off his body. He could feel some of his ribs scream, now in pieces. His head was dizzy as blood poured down his nose, and his hand was mangled, three fingers missing. 

Several bone fractures in several limbs, his organs felt liquefied, and he could barely see straight. His shield was on the floor somewhere, as was his sword, and now he had no life-saving knife. 

But he saw blood stream from the helmet of the King Blood, and he smiled despite the pain. 

He stood straight, taking out a plain metal knife long enough to be called a sword by any ordinary man. The King Blood charged toward him, far faster than before. 

All Vetsmon could feel after that was the hot sensation of a sword pushing through his chest. He felt his heartbeat cease as his heart was sliced in two. 

He looked up at the King Blood, his knife buried in its stomach where he had wounded it before. It drove its sword deeper, the power of Unholy Light attempting to infiltrate his body. 

He just smiled behind his helmet, the rest of his Vigor infused into every cell of his body. 

The pain of the King Blood’s attempted corruption made him feel like fainting. His grip on the knife slipped, light surrounding his body and filling his vision, pouring into his wound. 

Vetsmon wasn’t sure how much longer he was in that state until his body was suddenly thrown to the side. 

The light dissipated around him, the King Blood retreating as another Raider entered the fray. 

Vetsmon focused his blurry vision and saw one of the Marshals. It was one of the women, a lady triple Vetsmon’s age, someone who had been swinging her spear on the battlefield longer than he had been alive. 

The King Blood retaliated to her attacks but she was as oppressive as Vetsmon knew her to be. Her attacks demanded the King Blood’s full force, which was many times greater than what was used against Vetsmon. The shockwaves of magic and Vigor were enough to rend the ground, cracks shaking the earth with the release of pressure. 

Vetsmon backed himself away, a new hole in his chest after he ripped out the sword, causing even more damage than before. 

He felt the incredible sensation of being unable to breathe, unable to speak. Only the occasional faint agonizing groan escaped his mouth while he pulled himself to his feet. 

Despite being able to see his heart though, no blood was spilled. Even his nose and mouth were no longer seeing blood. 

He simply stood there, holding the ruined pieces of his body together as the Marshal continued her onslaught. 

Their battle was monumentally flashy thanks to the King Blood. Its magic filled the skies with miasma and it took everything the Marshal had to resist. She drained its energy wound after wound, magic spilling with its blood and its movements growing sluggish after many minutes. 

Her armor was scorched and rent, just as Vetsmon’s was. It didn’t just have magic, but masterful swordsmanship. Their pride was shown through their battles, but Vetsmon could see the King Blood begin to panic as it started dying. 

It went into a frenzy after the Marshal suddenly took an arm. She deflected most attacks but its reckless fear and insane desire to kill that which wounded it was difficult to resist. 

She was pushed on the back foot, the roles flipping. Spellfire bombarded her from all sides and yet she couldn’t worry about it with the King Blood constantly cutting at her with its blade. 

Vetsmon watched her take on several wounds, her leg nearly coming off after it caught her by surprise. But she never lost her cool, never faltered, continued looking for an opening. 

The wound Vetsmon left tore open further, spilling more blood. She waited, and with a decisive blow, thrust her spear into that wound and slashed. 

The King Blood was bisected as an unfathomable amount of Vigor was released. It took on the form of a scythe, slicing across the King Blood’s waist in Vetsmon’s vision as if the spear wasn’t doing the cutting. 

That was coalescence, the pinnacle of Knightly combat. 

After finishing off that monster with a beheading, the Marshal stood still, breathing heavily with strained lungs. Only after some time did she turn and walk over to Vetsmon, evaluating him with her gaze as if she didn’t care that she could see the two pieces of his heart and lungs. Vetsmon could see the depth of her wounds, her breathing hoarse and her gait unsteady.

After taking a second, she waved. Vetsmon followed her as she walked over to a nearby pile of rubble from a building and sat down. He did the same, the two sitting there as the surrounding battle finished. 

“Fuck, I’m beat.”

Vetsmon just nodded, still unable to speak. Every moment was agonizing, but if all his training was for anything thus far, it was this. 

He just honed his Aura, making sure he didn’t fall apart. 

The Marshal popped some pills into her mouth and stuffed her wounds, cringing as the poisonous light was purged from her body. 

She spit out a mouthful of blood, coughing a few times. 

“Fucking hurts. Those bastards always know how to make you suffer. God forbid a battle with one is relatively smooth.”

Vetsmon frowned a bit, wondering why she was complaining about pain in front of him. It felt like she was trying to egg him on. 

After many more minutes of the two sitting there and recovering, they heard the death throes of the Sovereign. The Templars then marched in, swarming the city by the ten thousand and eradicating everything they came across. 

Every last Scourge spawn, every last nest, every last Royal and monster was slaughtered mercilessly. Every Templar, every armored vehicle, and every inch of ground was stained with blood, the stench unbearable to any who hadn’t been living in it for the past several months. 

A figure started walking toward them, Vetsmon raising his head and seeing Anderson. 

The man was smiling, as always, and didn’t have a speck of dirt on his clothes. He wasn’t even wearing his armor. 

“Oh my. Would flashing me your heart be as bad as flashing me your tits? Dirty little heathen.”

Vetsmon stayed silent, trying to say even a single word and failing. Anderson just laughed, smacking his shoulder and sending another wave of pain through his body. 

“Don’t look so pained, Vetsmon. For this, not only did I get your Crown and Invocation approved, but I also got you leave. You’re gonna see that sneaky girlfriend of yours over at Iron Legion! Perhaps you want to consider giving her a baby. You know, in case the Crown sterilizes you. I know they say that they’ve solved that issue with the Invocations, but hell, I’m still skeptical. Not that some soldiers haven’t done their due diligence testing that theory. Hehehe…”

He chucked to himself while walking away, a healer rushing over to Vetsmon with bulging eyes. 

Vetsmon just smiled. 

He had fought long and hard. Now he’d get to see them again. 

It had been too long. He wondered how strong John was now. 

There was no way he hadn’t advanced after all this time. 

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep