The charred knight drew the glistening sword back, bending his knees as a graceful hum emitted from the enchanted weapon. From its perfect blade, an erald glow expanded throughout the palace, consuming the domain in its light.
’What’s he planning...?’ Noah thought.
"--You can’t defend against it!" Rain shouted from behind.
He looked back, unsure of what to make of such a claim, though didn’t doubt the woman in the desperate mont.
"I know who he is! He’s a Saint from the Era of Monsters!" Rain claid, imdiately clutching her chain. "Octavius Juliano, the Savior! When he swings his sword, anything touched by its glow is dismantled!"
Hearing it felt like a slap in the face, seeing as the erald shine had already filled the entirety of the palace.
Y’Sila’s expression of confidence completely collapsed into fear and betrayal, "You idiot! Are you planning on cutting to bits along with them?! Along with my palace?!"
Not even a glance back was given by the hollow legend, who only held the glowing blade back, looking towards Noah as if issuing a challenge. Death was likely a certainty already, if the man once a Saint had deed it, yet–
Fragnts remained of the hollow spirit; a glimr of the "Savior" that once was.
’Still have so honor in there, don’t you?’ Noah thought.
It was a challenge given without words, with a simple premise: "Let’s see if you can stop this."
["...I rember now. A ti so long ago now, the mories have been shrouded in fog..."]
[500 Years Ago - "The Era of Monsters"]
Across the continent of mankind, there was little left they could claim to be their land. There were more cities with their walls fallen than standing, more occupied by fiends than n.
Atop the grand, cobalt walls of the fortified kingdom of Anala, the Saint of Blades looked upon the region ahead. Beside the near mountains, cyclops that rivaled their height stomped, and at their feet swarms of monsters ravenous for the blood of n.
"Sir Octavius...I’m not sure even you can handle this kind of attack," the wizened counselor warned.
With his helt in his hand, the man with golden-brown skin and irises that held a subtle, heavenly glow in their snow-white shade looked over the hopeless scenery.
"Anala must not fall," Octavius adamantly claid, sliding the ivory helt over his head, adjusting the mask. "Even if I fail, another Saint will rise. The sa can’t be said for these walls."
"That may be true, but–!" The counselor reasoned desperately, his curly, golden hair swaying by the passing breeze. "--You’re cherished, Sir Octavius! You’re the hope of these people!"
"David," Octavius said somberly.
"Yes...?" The counselor responded.
The knight looked over, his iridescent eyes peering from the small gap in his helt, "Have so faith in , will you?"
"It’s not that, it’s just–"
"I know," Octavius agreed, looking off into the distance where only the forms of colossal beings marched. "Chances are, I’ll die confronting their forces if I go down there."
"Then–!"
"But, I’ll have to confront them either way. Eighty-percent of our armies have been wiped out, and there’s only a handful of adventurers sticking around. Even less that can keep up with these enhanced fighters," Octavius rationalized. "I’ll kill Phismor and bring things to even."
"But getting to Phismor...Nobody has been able to do it," David protested. "He’s guarded by incredibly powerful beings, at all tis."
"He hasn’t had the Saint of Blades take a crack at it," Octavius answered.
While the counselor was left silent at the confident remark, he could only reach out desperately before the knight leaned over the edge. The walls stood a hundred ters tall, though the Saint of Blades held no fear as he let himself descend the ancient, cobalt structure.
["Phismor, the Conspirer...Regarded as one of the three most dangerous monsters in history. A kobold weaker than the average human man, though what he lacked physically he possessed infinitely in magic.
A unique spell was crafted by Phismor that extended to every monster in his army, exponentially increasing their strength and ferocity. Even a cowardly goblin beca strong enough to tear apart a bear with its hands.
Adding that to their numbers nearing half a million strong...Phismor’s march of darkness conquered each kingdom they passed."]
With his feet sliding along the unending height of the city walls, the knight drew back his jade sword, letting its light gather before swinging it. He unleashed a ray of light that grow, soon spanning miles in length
It passed over the nefarious army marching onward, much to the confusion of the monsters below.
"Grah?" A goblin pointed upward.
"Hurh?" An orc resting a club over its shoulder grunted.
The fleeting shine of erald soared, bisecting trees with a shattering wind that knocked over countless fiends. It traveled before eting its target–the mountainous cyclops that marched shoulder-to-shoulder.
"Urk?!"
"Gruuah?!--"
Before any of the one-eyed colossuses could so much as raise an arm, the eviscerating shine cleaved through their massive necks. In the path of the jade glow, the surrounding mountains had a bit taken off the top, leaving the region rumbling as if the world itself had been upset.
["...Conquered it all, save for one kingdom."]
The mont Octavius’ boots reached the soil, completing his one-hundred ter descent, a swarm of rabid fiends ca in like a tidal wave. He already pulled his treasured sword behind him as its glow of jade expanded, engulfing the incoming horde of monsters in its brilliant erald.
An opera of malicious screams and roars emitted from the mouths of the empowered monsters; from orcs, ogres, dragon-fiends, to ghouls.
They ca within inches of the Saint as he swung his blade forth–
It quieted down, if only for a mont; the bloodthirsty masses turned to a scarlet mist. The lone swordsman cut his way through the horde, each swing parting their malice into distant shades of red. The mont he cast away one wave into death, another filled their spot–
Salivating orcs of silver skin that craved nothing more than bloodshed leapt and sprinted in, bumping into one another with their unusual swiftness.
["Phismor’s army was like a natural disaster, sweeping through any armies in their way with overwhelming force. With the sheer speed and ferocity of the monsters in their ranks, any foot soldiers were cut down without the chance to swing their sword."]
–As quickly as the dark forces sward, they were discarded by the Saint’s blade. Beyond the unending tide of lesser fiends, the true monsters amongst their ranks erged.
A being of flesh like coal hovered with its four wings, unleashing its many heads of destruction–
["Thalan, The Five-Headed Calamity"]
Each of its serpentine heads stretched with scale matched only by leviathans, casting shadow over the valley.
The first head, "The Lion", roared with erald flas, dousing the battlefield with no regard for its comrades.
The second, "The Hawk", spewed bolts of silver lightning, raining down with impunity upon the land.
The third, "The Snake", petrified all seen by its gaze, turning even the soil into lifeless stone, fated to fade away.
The fourth and fifth, "Twin Dragons", pointed rays of annihilation wildly, without aim, only seeking utter catastrophe.
Within monts of the calamitous monster’s arrival, the valley was bathed in the elental storm of its wrath.
’Phismor has even recruited a wild beast like Thalan into his ranks? No wonder Luvan and Juna’s walls didn’t hold long,’ the Saint thought, looking up at the mythical calamity.
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