The Emperor’s Angel of Death

"Waaaaah!!!!"

A short, stout barbarian brute shrieked and charged forward, its cry piercing the air. Ricas could almost feel the roar resonating from the depths of its soul.

Immediately following, several stones came flying, two of which struck the barbarian's unprotected head, shattering its skull and felling it. But the larger brutes would never pass up a battle where blood could be spilled.

The battle erupted with extreme intensity. One barbarian attempted to club down a Saham beast blocking its path, but several spears pierced through, turning its chest into a mangled mess of flesh and blood. Another bent low, trying to squeeze between the Saham beasts, intending to stab someone's thigh with a bone knife, but before it could act, two cleavers descended upon it, splitting it open from behind and then severing its head.

Blood flowed across the ground, and bloody mist sprayed into the air. Ricas's nostrils were filled with the thick, coppery scent of blood.

He wasn't afraid, even somewhat excited. He glanced at his teacher, still praying with his eyes closed, gritted his teeth, drew his scimitar, and stepped into the chaotic battlefield.

The caravan was still struggling to keep the opponents outside the Saham beasts' perimeter, but some had already jumped in. A barbarian used a severed leg bone as a club and leaped toward him.

Ricas swung his scimitar, feeling the sharp blade hook into flesh before sinking in deeply.

Blood spurted out, splattering his clothes. The weather was hot and stuffy, the smell unbearable. He kicked away the howling barbarian, looked at the face painted in garish colors, spat, and then forcefully snapped the opponent's neck.

"Gods!"

At that moment, a scream attracted his attention.

A Saham beast had been flipped onto its back, rolling around in the crowd, its protective plating damaged, and the goods on the cart scattered everywhere.

The barbarian leader had ferociously forced a breach. It swung a terrifying heavy hammer, roaring, instantly claiming the lives of two caravan members, their flesh and bones turned to pulp.

The moment the gap was opened, barbarians poured in, and the situation rapidly deteriorated. Boys screamed and ran, but some had already been caught by chains. Grinning barbarian enslavers were trying to drag them off the battlefield.

Ricas realized he had to protect his teacher. However, he saw the cook, who prepared meals for the caravan, roaring as he charged toward the barbarian enslavers. His son had been captured, but the leader blocked his way. The cook swung his club, trying to attack, but it was easily blocked by the opponent's shield.

With a sweep of the heavy hammer, the cook's torso separated from his legs, collapsing in a pool of blood on the gravel.

"Come on, you beast!!!"

The enraged Ricas suddenly charged out. The barbarian leader revealed an almost smiling expression, its lipless mouth exposing a row of dirty yellow teeth.

Immediately after, the barbarian leader sprinted forward, bare feet kicking up the blood on the ground.

Ricas initially remained still until the opponent approached, then suddenly drew his left hand, throwing something.

The next moment, a patch of white engulfed the charging barbarian leader's face. It turned out that Ricas had secretly hidden a bag of salt in his palm and pierced the small bag with his fingernails.

The scattered salt stung the barbarian's eyes. As the enemy was blinded and confused, Ricas seized the opportunity to raise his blade and stab the barbarian's abdomen, but the opponent instinctively twisted away. The scimitar failed to cut open the abdomen but instead pierced its thigh.

The barbarian leader let out a painful howl, as terrible as a human scream, but it did not fall. Instead, it very cleverly threw its shield, nearly hitting Ricas.

Ricas glared at his opponent, continuing to wave his scimitar to taunt it. The barbarian, barely regaining its sight, roared and launched a counterattack. It tensed its body, gripping the heavy hammer with both hands, preparing for a brutal effort.

Then, it noticed Ricas's left hand hanging limply by his side, motionless.

A lesson from not long ago made the barbarian leader's eyes immediately close, raising its arms to defend against the impending sneak attack. Ricas also drew his left hand again.

However, this time, no salt was thrown into its face.

Instead, Ricas used this intimidation to slash at the opponent's remaining good leg, cutting through its knee.

Deception was a sin in the Solar Order, but Ricas was no longer considering piety and virtue. All he wanted to do was kill the opponent, repaying blood with blood—

The barbarian leader screamed, staggering from the blow. It raised its heavy hammer, trying to attack the small figure from above, smashing him to bits.

But the weight of the weapon caused the crippled giant to lose its balance. Its knee could not support it, forcing it to fall. Ricas quickly pounced on the fallen opponent, slashing off its right arm, while the dagger in his left hand pierced the beast's face.

Thick blood flowed from the ruptured eyes. The barbarian leader's body convulsed in painful spasms, the huge heavy hammer sliding from its limp hand.

Around them, its barbarian followers were in stunned silence.

Ricas forcefully hacked off its head, holding the ugly head with the dagger still stuck in it, and roared:

"Kill them! Avenge!"

The caravan members burst into loud roars, and the barbarians completely collapsed. What followed was a one-sided massacre. They threw away their weapons and the captured slaves, frantically fleeing towards the mountains, like hunted animals.

Ricas wielded his scimitar, hacking at them from behind. He killed at least five until the barbarians had all disappeared, and only then did he return to the caravan, nearly collapsing.

But upon returning, he was struck by lightning—

"No—"

His beloved teacher, the elder he should have protected, lay in a pool of blood, a broken bone stuck in his chest, blood staining his white robe and beard. The survivors around him were kneeling on the ground, weeping.

"No! No!"

Ricas rushed over and knelt heavily beside his teacher. He looked at the broken bone, not knowing which beast had stabbed it in, his mouth trembling, and tears instantly welled up.

At that moment, the chanter, with his last breath, raised his withered hand and placed it on the back of Ricas's hand.

"Child you did well you protected me could not protect"

Before he could finish speaking, his hand slipped onto the gravel. Teary-eyed, Ricas widened his eyes, opened his mouth but couldn't make a sound.

The teacher was dead because he had not protected him well—

Ricas realized he had made a terrible mistake. He had been overwhelmed by anger and victory, forgetting his most fundamental duty.

The joy of victory was quickly replaced by boundless regret. He looked at the others, how would he explain to the city-state, how would he face the Grand Chanter?

Just as Ricas's head was buzzing, he suddenly felt the air buzzing too, followed by a terrible roar, a sound he had never heard before. Then, the surrounding people began to scream, accompanied by a strong wind that could knock people over, the hot gravel being blown everywhere, desperately trying to get into Ricas's eyes and nostrils, forcing him to turn his head.

But seeing that his teacher's body was about to be blown away, Ricas didn't bother to look up to see what had happened, and threw himself on top of his teacher.

Suddenly, he felt a strong light enveloping his head, followed by the screams of everyone—