Having led armies for many years, I have killed countless lives. By the king's command, I have razed mountains and destroyed temples, witnessed countless horrors, and slain innumerable ghosts and demons. Yet never have I been so astonished as I am now.
They are creatures that resemble demons but are not demons, beasts but not beasts, humans but not humans.
They thirst for blood, revel in utter depravity, and in the moments when they return to calm, they writhe in agony, driven to madness.
They are slaves seeking self-destruction, souls so decadent they have become foul, walking corpses that have lost all meaning.
If there were only one such creature, it would be a rarity.
Ten, and they would be curiosities for the nobility.
A hundred, and they would be a minor calamity requiring extermination.
A thousand, ten thousand, a hundred thousand—
And thus, an army of the living dead, clad in armor and driven by desire rather than reason, stood before me.
Only then did I realize with horror: this was a calamity.
A disaster for humanity—one that must never be allowed to spread.
***
Unwavering killing intent surged like boiling fury.
Never before had Sakatsuki felt such intense emotion from his Spirit Origin. That famed general had always been the epitome of composure, his emotions never betraying him. In the ever-shifting tides of battle, only unyielding resolve could prevail.
Yet now—
Upon eternal ice, a bone-chilling flame erupted.
"Form ranks! Prepare for battle!"
A storm of bloodlust swept forth, materializing into blades, spears, and halberds that stood at the forefront. The remaining hundred or so soldiers under Sakatsuki's command also steeled themselves, resisting the despair brought by the Gate of Death. Gripping their weapons, they fixed their resolute gazes upon the monsters ahead.
Yes, monsters—
Though clad in the uniforms of the United Roman Empire, the swarming humanoid figures bore no trace of human intellect in their faces. Only the mindless groans of beasts and the instinct to lunge forward remained.
Tainted crimson light had melted their eyeballs, and jagged scales clung to their bones, piercing through flesh and sprouting fragmented tentacles outward.
They were not the minions of the Old Ones, yet their existence was even more vile, more debased—utterly stripped of human dignity, pitiful insects writhing in the muck.
What manner of corruption could have boiled humanity down to this?
Indulging in the ecstasy of slaughter, they let such emotions fill their limbs.
Reveling in the suffering of living beings, they gave free rein to their impulses, killing and ravaging without restraint.
Succumbing to dark desires, they knelt before their cravings, abandoning all thought.
In the dire straits of the Gate of Death, Sakatsuki's army faced thousands of such terrifying foes. None knew what had befallen the United Roman Empire's forces, only that these monsters were now enemies—obstacles to be trampled for the sake of survival.
With low growls, the monsters charged. The elemental forces of water, fire, wind, and thunder within the Eight Trigrams Formation proved useless against them, merely shredding their clothing to reveal their aberrant bodies.
Breaking through the formation's indiscriminate attacks, the icy bloodlust transformed into countless weapons, plunging deep into their flesh.
To Sakatsuki's silent relief, the bloodlust took effect. The foremost enemies let out unwilling final cries before crumbling into ash, leaving not even corpses behind.
Yet the tide of blackened "beasts" did not falter at death. Mindless, they surged forward relentlessly, soon satiating the bloodlust weapons with their lives. Then, howling, they closed in on Sakatsuki's soldiers, engaging in brutal melee combat.
The frontlines clashed, but those further back were less fortunate—a giant soldier carved from blood-red crystal rose, its halberd sweeping upward in a cataclysmic strike!
Amid a deafening roar fiercer than thunder, the white-haired commander's robes fluttered as he spoke calmly:
"Do not linger. Keep moving."
No matter how fierce his killing intent, even he would not recklessly engage the enemy under such circumstances.
Moreover, the Stone Sentinel Maze had severed them from the main force. With only a few hundred soldiers, victory against these monsters was far from certain.
The carnage of battle made that clear—
A spearman thrust his weapon into an enemy's body, yet no blood spilled forth. The United Roman soldier didn't even cry out, merely fixing a frenzied gaze on the spearman's heart. Discarding the cumbersome weapon in its hands, the archer's fingers elongated into clawed talons tipped with sharp scales. It lunged, slamming the shield-bearing soldier aside and pouncing on the spearman, tearing open his chest and lowering its head—
To voraciously devour his still-beating heart.
Of course, some shield-bearers managed to block the enemy's assault, allowing their comrades to strike back. After sustaining enough damage, even these monstrous foes would collapse, though their bodies continued to twitch involuntarily. Then, with a sudden eruption of tentacles from their backs, any nearby soldier would be dragged in to become bloody fodder.
A tremor ran through Sakatsuki's Spirit Origin—the souls of his soldiers, wailing in agony, protesting against their general who suppressed their fear.
If this continued, even the finest Spirit Origin could not prevent the troops from breaking. And if that happened, it would be the commander's failure.
They had to escape before then.
So Sakatsuki ceased conserving his bloodlust reserves. The giant soldier behind him swung its halberd, clearing a path forward. As he raised his right hand, more blood-red terracotta warriors materialized, each as tall as a man. They advanced, joining the fray, replacing flesh-and-blood soldiers as they tore through enemy bodies and crushed skulls until movement ceased.
Stunned, the imperial soldiers instinctively obeyed Sakatsuki's orders, fleeing toward the exit of the Gate of Death.
Northward they ran, through what might have been hell or the underworld, smashing past towering mountains, crossing raging rivers, shattering thunderbolts of immense weight, and weathering a rain of scorching flames. Within the ever-shifting formation, the soldiers sprinted desperately until their vision filled with surreal, abstract shapes, their ears ringing only with their commander's steady, composed commands.
The Primordial Eight Trigrams contained the cosmos itself—the interplay of heaven and earth, yin and yang. It was no mere formation, but an entire world unto itself.
The Gate of Life lay in the northeast, a fact now laid bare. Yet under the controller's manipulation, which direction was truly east or west, north or south?
Once trapped within this pocket world, one would be at the mercy of Zhuge Liang.
But to manifest a world through a formation was a feat of immense difficulty. The white-haired commander remained coldly analytical, timing his moment. Behind him, the bloodlust never ceased its assault, hammering against invisible magical barriers like stains upon an unseen canvas.
The instant the formation's operation stuttered, Sakatsuki exhaled sharply. The bloodlust surged upward like a meteor in reverse, shaking the formation's fabric before engulfing his soldiers and vanishing as a crimson streak through the Gate of Life—now too slow to react.
In that moment, a young man sitting far away with closed eyes suddenly convulsed, vomiting great mouthfuls of blood. The formation disk before him, which had been charting the heavens and earth, shattered instantly.
The Stone Sentinel Maze had been broken.
Yet before losing consciousness, the young man's lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile.
***
On the open plains, the soldiers who had escaped under Sakatsuki's protection looked around in terror, seeing only the slowly dissipating dust of shattered stone pillars—and the main force, now arrived and holding position behind them. At last, they exhaled in relief, their backs drenched in sweat.
A headcount revealed the grim truth: of the hundreds of light cavalry who had entered the formation, only a few dozen remained.
Without Sakatsuki's bloodlust shielding them, none would have emerged alive.
Yet the white-haired commander, whose deeds had saved them all, stood apart, gazing thoughtfully at the distant, hazy fortress on the horizon.
"Rosario."
"Here!" Rosario, who had been ordered to guard the rear and thus avoided the trap, strode forward with vigor.
"Advance toward the target location as planned. Establish a foothold. I will scout ahead alone."
"Commander, you can't—!" Rosario began to protest, but his eyes fell upon the survivors—nine out of ten comrades lost—and the mingled relief and terror on their faces. After a pause, he clenched his jaw and replied firmly:
"Understood. I will not fail this duty!"
And so, a single rider set forth once more, advancing alone toward the horizon.
***
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