Tales of the Old World Demon Lord

Chapter 50 – No future

[Eternum Calendar 1972]

Not trees, not winds, not insects, not animals or monsters…

Leon could not hear anything; everything had fallen into a suffocating silence as though time itself had eroded away. Nothing moved and nothing spoke, all he could do was stand helplessly as the heavenly battle of god-tiered beings drew to a close with a single victor. From the beginning he had already known that only one person would ever come out alive, but he had hoped that it would not be this person.

Slowly through time and space, Errick Rommel’s mechanical body fell onto the floor. With a quiet ‘thud’ time began to inch along once more and the suffocating pressure had been lifted. Yet then, ‘why does it still feel so horrible?’ Leon thought to himself, infinitely preferring that intoxicating stillness rather than the progressing degeneration of this situation.

A large gaping hole through that nigh impregnable metallic chest plate and one through his helmet; their one and only hope of defeating this behemoth of a god, laid defeated and dead. Perhaps ‘dead’ wasn’t quite the correct word to use for an undead like Baron Rommel, but such trivialities no longer mattered. ‘Dagda seriously beat him…’

Standing with overwhelming pressure, tall with a paper white body marked with ominous black runes and patterns, huge bulking death colored wings… ‘Dagda’, the strongest entity of this world emerged victorious over his opponent’s lifeless body. ‘This feeling is… ah, hopelessness,’ Leon instantly felt the strength in his legs leave him as he fell to the floor with that single fleeting thought.

The strongest allied being in the West Tetrarchy, Baron Rommel, was now no more. Understanding this fact, Leon’s heart started to tremble and beat faster; worry, fear and terror started to overtake him. ‘Now there’s no one to stop him,’ it didn’t matter if they gather an army of the remaining strongest warriors in the country, it was impossible to fight against this unfair deity.

Leon’s breaths became more haggard as he found the excess of air pumping through his body hard to control. His head started to feel light and even his vision started to blur, though he had done nothing but watch it was as though everything had come crumbling down on top of him. The future of his country... heck, even just the next ten minutes became a clouded prospect.

It was extremely unlikely that anyone stronger than Baron Rommel would appear and even then if such miracles did occur whether they were friend or foe was also a concern. In this moment however, with Baron Rommel gone Dagda was free to continue his rampage uncontested. Not only that, but the entire Southern Tetrarchy could now freely move in and invade their country without much fear of recourse. It didn’t matter if Leon, the future Tetrarch, lived or died anymore, this country was doomed.

“Milord, please calm down for now. This is not the time to be losing yourself like this; we first need to figure out our next course of actions.”

Sensing his momentary mental break down, Nicholai reached out to him, lightly tapping on the shoulder to snap him out of his own daze. Nicholai’s unchanged and unhesitant voice, it was this that allowed Leon to calm down and regain his composure. After all, how could he lose hope when his retainer was still holding it together? With a sigh he was able to let go of all his tension and find a sense of liberation. ‘Right, what to do next…’ that was the most important thing, not to break into depression.

Yet of course knowing this did nothing to change the direness of the situation at hand; Dagda was still uncontested. Though he was momentarily preoccupied with his own high stupor from his victory against Baron Rommel, it was only a matter of time before he moved on.

“Milord, I suggest you retreat to a safer place immediately. I will try to buy you as much time as I can in the meanwhile.”

“What? You’re saying that despite everything you just saw?!”

Leon clenched his fists tightly, turning to meet Nicholai’s unflinching gaze he understood that this proposition was a completely serious one. It was the duty of a Praetorian Knight to give his or her life for their master. However to Leon, Nicholai was more than just his retainer or knight, he was his closest friend. How could he ever send him off to fight an impossible battle that was so obviously a death sentence?

“Milord… no, Leon, we’ve known each other for practically our entire lives so I think you’ll already know what I’m about to say… but if it was anyone else I’d have probably already abandoned them to their deaths. However you are the one person I want to see live through all of this; it’s fine if you just escape on your own. Leave the country and start life anew someplace else… just continue living. I’m not asking this of you as a retainer but as a friend.”

A resolute but somewhat melancholic smile, Leon could not sense any sort of hesitation from Nicholai. ‘He’s really going to…’ yet even knowing that it was a death sentence he could not bring himself to stop his friend. It would tarnish the determination and pride of a knight. He would oblige Nicholai’s request to escape but Leon would not abandon the country. As Nicholai’s duty was with him, Leon’s duty was with the country.

“Fine… but I want you to come back alive. That’s not an order as your master but a request from a friend.”

“… Certainly.”

With a deep breath, Leon turned his back against his friend for the second time in one day. At the very least, it was prudent to inform the current Tetrarch, his father, about what was going on. Perhaps if even possible, to send the other Praetorian Knights that came with them as reinforcements. Though knowing Nicholai’s personality it would definitely not appreciate such wanton exhaustion of their war force for such petty reasons.

…

“Hmph, he’s finally left. Now then, I went and tried to act cool but how do I stop this monster?”

Nicholai shook his head, ‘no, I don’t have to stop him; I just have to stall him for a bit.’ That being said, as he gazed at the ghastly white figure marked with death colored ominous markings he couldn’t help but shudder. Even when fighting Nazarym who he had admitted was a lot stronger, he didn’t feel that much. Yet standing only a few dozen steps way from this monster he could feel a bone chilling petrifaction that crept up his spine.

“Haha… probably about two or three minutes would be my absolute limit.”

The only saving grace in this dreaded situation was that Dagda had preoccupied himself. Stalling himself as he gloated over Baron Rommel’s corpse was nice of him but Nicholai could only hope that it would be enough time for Leon to make it out of the forest. Knowing Leon he probably wouldn’t abandon the country but making it to the capital… ‘at least the capital would offer more defense than this backwater village.’

“Kuh! Lord Dagda!”

Someone shouted desperately from behind him to garner Dagda’s attention. Hearing this voice Dagda reacted and snapped back to reality from his self-intoxicated high. When the enemy god turned to face them, it was as though Nicholai could see his own life flashing before his eyes… ‘just because of a mere gaze?!’

There was only one person who should’ve been behind them, but that person was severely crippled…

“Tch, dammit!”

Nicholai glanced back and saw Nazarym calling out from the ground. ‘Bastard!’ he thought as he dropped down a large [Magma Pillar] on top of him. The burning cinder of molten bricks came crashing down, instantly eviscerating whatever was left of the immobile enemy. It was only a momentary act of impulse but this course of action left a deep regret.

Nicholai turned to see how Dagda had just perceived that kind of hostile action but once he looked back Dagda was no longer there.

“Where did he…?!”

Before he could even track him with his eyes, Dagda instantaneously appeared before Nicholai. Towering him with a needlessly overwhelming stature, ‘so fast! No, attack! Attack! Just attack!’ Nicholai told himself as he drew his sword and slashed away towards the enemy.

The sword couldn’t even penetrate the soft looking white skin and broke itself. Losing balance from his own failed attack Nicholai stumbled vulnerably forward, letting Dagda get in a clear chance for an attack.

Perhaps Dagda was taking pity at such a non-threatening and weak opponent or he was just toying with him but when he threw a punch it seemed completely half-hearted. There was no real sense of speed or power behind it yet despite this it was obviously a fatal attack. The difference in power between a small human and a titanic god was overwhelmingly unfair, but thanks to this Nicholai was given a small, albeit hopeless chance to evade.

Nicholai contorted his body to the side, but even then Dagda’s punch connected with his right arm. Almost in an instant, as though he never had one in the first place, Nicholai’s right arm was blown away into dust. With just that half-hearted attempt of an attack, he was tossed across the field as though he were garbage.

Intense pain coursed his right shoulder only for a brief moment before the numbness kicked in. Recovering only thanks to his own considerate nerve systems giving him the chance to do so, he crawled back up onto his two feet. Holding very tightly onto his torn apart right side he tried his best to apply pressure in order to stop the bleeding.

This entire exchange took place in less than ten seconds. ‘Ten seconds… I couldn’t even last a minute,’ had he severely overestimated his own abilities? Or was this god on such a level that he wasn’t even registered as a proper threat? Nicholai felt as though even this ten second was only because Dagda was taking it easy on him and if the enemy truly felt like it he wouldn’t have lasted more than a microsecond.

“Hah… hahaha… absurd.”

Nicholai couldn’t help but laugh at his own situation. The fact that he couldn’t last too long was exceedingly depressing but it was just funny how some no name country Baron could last almost defeat this monster. ‘How did he even manage that? Just who his Baron Rommel?’ more than this god, Baron Rommel was a bigger enigma.

“Why do you laugh?”

Dagda’s skin returned from an unsightly and sickly pale white to its more palpable iron grey. The two large wings behind him also disappearing into the ether, with it a lot of the pressure had lifted. In addition it seemed that some of his controlled consciousness had returned from that berserker rage.

“Laugh? Ah… yes, I’m laughing because this world is just full of unfair things. When you can no longer cry or defy those unfair things, all that is left is to laugh. Whatever, just finish me off; as long as you’re alive this country is doomed to fall and I do not wish to see it with my own eyes, that kind of future.”

“Doomed? Certainly there is no hope for this country but completely erasing it was never his eminence’s plan.”

‘His eminence?’ it almost sounded as if there was a being that was at an even higher hierarchy than Dagda from the way he phrased it. ‘Ah, Nodens is it?’ Nicholai remembered. Indeed there was one, though not necessarily physically stronger, the leader of all gods, ‘Nodens’.

“Well, it is a future that no longer has anything to do with you. Then as you requested I shall send you off.”

Dagda prepared his fist. A single blow would do. With that it was possible that not even a tiny shred of him would remain after this. Even his corpse would be there to witness the perishing of this country that he had once called home, perhaps that in and of itself was a horrendous blessing.

Staring back at his reaper of death through his shattered glasses, Nicholai sighed as he chose to close his eyes. Nicholai whispered to himself with a wry smirk.

“Leon, sorry for not being able to uphold your request… but you always knew that I was a liar.”

Death… did not come for Nicholai however. No matter how long he waited, Dagda’s final finishing blow did not connect with him and there was no pain. ‘Am I already dead?’ was death always so painless? Curious Nicholai opened his eyes.

He was not yet dead and Dagda was still standing ominously in front of him but there was another addition. A harrowing black metal hand stabbed through that iron grey chest, cracking around it. A small trail of almost black, dark red blood trickles out of Dagda’s mouth as he makes a horrifyingly disturbed expression.

“Guh… how… you? Why…”

Dagda couldn’t even speak.

“Painful, isn’t it? Having a large gaping hole in your chest, that is.”

A familiar unnatural voice spoke from behind the large hulking body. It was the second time in one day that Nicholai was put into this position and saw this kind of scene. Not knowing how to respond to this situation, or what to even make of it; everything was already beyond his comprehension that all he could do was simply make light of the situation and ask.

“Is stabbing your hand through other people’s chest some kind of fetish or something?”

“Hahaha!”

A jolly resounding laugh completely unfitting of this situation.

“No, I wouldn’t quite say that it’s my ‘fetish’, rather it’s more like a ‘signature move’.”