The Sword Emperor Transmigrates-Chapter 248

While Leonard and his companions were locked in their climactic battle with Scylla in the southern seas, a separate force dispatched to the continent’s far eastern territories was also entering the final stages of their conflict.

Wade, Commander of the Order of the Red Dragon, Grace, Commander of the Order of the Blue Dragon, and Alastair, ranking fourth in the Pentagon.

With three Demigod Tier figures spearheading the operation, supported by two entire knight orders and dozens of mages from the battalion of the Wickeline family, the Demoniac worshippers hiding on the eastern frontier stood no chance once their location was compromised.

Half a day had barely passed since the vanguard’s reconnaissance, yet the end was already drawing near. The battle between Wade and the Demoniac worshippers’ so-called god, the Archdemoniac, was reaching its conclusion.

Rumble-Rumble-Rumble...!!

The ground shook with a deafening roar, the tremor so fierce that even those several kilometers away found it hard to stay upright.The shockwave was comparable to a minor earthquake in magnitude.

“A... Ahh...! Lord Behemoth is...!”

“This can’t be happening...! This isn’t real...!”

The Demoniac worshippers, witnessing the spectacle, screamed in despair and anguish. Stunned into helplessness, they fell limp as swords pierced through them. The berserker-like frenzy they had shown earlier seemed a distant memory, their resistance evaporating like a fleeting mirage.

To them, Behemoth, a Heart Demoniac, was not just a powerful entity—it was their god. An Archdemoniac capable of descending into the Middle Realm from the Nine Hells, Behemoth had imbued its flesh and blood into its worshippers, granting them superhuman abilities. But now, with the death of their divine figurehead, their resolve crumbled alongside their borrowed strength.

It was a given. No one had expected that this huge creature, no different from a god, would be defeated by mere physical abilities, not even supreme magic or conceptual martial arts.

There was one exception to their shock, though. One man had anticipated this outcome.

Slash!

From within Behemoth’s colossal frame, a radiant figure burst forth, tearing through its hide. As the light dissipated, the figure took on human form, brandishing a sword slick with blood.

“...That was close,” Wade muttered.

Though victorious, he knew how narrow his margin of success had been. Had he hesitated even for a fraction of a second in destroying Behemoth’s heart from within, the outcome could have been entirely different.

Despite the almost impossibly tight window, Wade had located his target with precision and struck accurately, even with only three seconds left of Areadbhar’s effect. Behemoth’s misfortune lay in facing an opponent of such unfailing focus.

Just as a Brain Demoniac’s strength originated from its brain, a Heart Demoniac drew its formidable power from its heart. However, breaching the heart was no easy feat. Its near-impenetrable hide, muscles, and bones were akin to an unyielding fortress that demanded extraordinary strength to pierce.

“Ah, our dear old man has returned!”

Grace, the Blue Dragon Commander, waved cheerfully at Wade, her hands bloodied from carving through a mountain of Demoniac corpses. True to her reputation as a force to be reckoned with in large-scale combat, at least half of the fallen enemies could be attributed to her handiwork.

Satisfied with her performance, Wade gave a curt nod and replied, “The higher one ascends in strength, the more a massive body becomes a liability. While it grants a greater capacity to store power, losing flexibility allows even a weaker foe to exploit any vulnerabilities.”

“Well, if Behemoth could compress its life force that way, it wouldn’t just be a Demigod Tier entity anymore—it’d be in an entirely different realm. Maybe it didn’t choose not to; maybe it simply couldn’t,” Grace speculated.

“Perhaps. Not that it matters now. The dead don’t answer questions.”

As Behemoth’s vast reservoir of life force rapidly dissipated, Wade surveyed the battlefield from atop the fallen Archdemoniac.

The Order of the Red Dragon, the Order of the Blue Dragon, and the mage battalion had nearly eradicated the Demoniac worshippers, the survivors now staring blankly in despair. A few still clung to their will to fight, but their morale had been shattered.

The Demoniac worshippers’ inhuman physical prowess and combat skills had indeed been formidable. However, those abilities stemmed directly from Behemoth’s flesh and blood. With its death, the worshippers’ enhancements diminished, and the tide of the battle turned overwhelmingly in favor of the expedition forces.

“We have minimal casualties, but many are gravely wounded. Without the mages’ support, half of those injured would have been dead by now,” Wade noted grimly.

Grace, agreeing with his assessment, dispatched another volley of her Nature Blade, cutting down several more Demoniacs before responding.

“The Demoniacs active in the Middle Realm are different from those in the Nine Hells. They lack resistance or immunity to magic. Unlike in the Corroded Realm, where mages are weakened, the battlefield here allowed for high-powered magic bombardments. Mages are often more effective than knights on such a battlefield.”

“Unlike the Black Dragon and Blue Dragon Orders, the Order of the Red Dragon don’t usually work with mages, so this is a bit unfamiliar. Not that I dislike it, though.”

Among them, Alastair, the fourth-ranked member of Pentagon, stood out significantly. He had elevated the status of summoning magic, once dismissed as obscure and insignificant, to a new level of respect.

By summoning deadly monsters and unleashing them into enemy ranks—or trapping the strongest-looking Demoniacs within the knights’ encirclement—he ensured his targets would die helplessly. While these tactics alone hadn’t decided the battle, their cumulative effect had been nothing short of a nightmare for the enemy.

It was likely thanks to Alastair that the casualties of the Red Dragon and Blue Dragon knights were far lower than anticipated. But despite that, Wade couldn’t shake this nagging sense of unease.

...This gnawing discomfort is almost irritating. Beyond the excitement of victory and accomplishment, something feels off.

With furrowed brows, Wade scanned every corner of the battlefield, determined to find whatever detail he might have missed. Although this victory was substantial, it was not so overwhelming as to blind him.

The corpses of Demoniacs, each classified as a Rank A threat, filled the field, and the ashes of Behemoth, rejected by the world laws of the Middle Realm, scattered into the wind.

It was then that Wade finally pinpointed the source of his discomfort and asked, “Why did those who remained hidden for over a century suddenly get exposed?”

“What? According to the Order of the Light Dragon’s report—”

“I’ve read the report, too. I didn’t notice anything odd at the time, but thinking about it now, it seems strange.”

The discovery of the Demoniac worshipers was triggered by Behemoth, camouflaged as hills or mountains, causing the disappearance of anyone who ventured too close. Most adventurers sent to investigate were captured or killed, but a handful had managed to survive and reveal everything.

“So they escaped from these beings while only being at the External Force Tier, not even the Transcendence Tier. Not only that, they identified the threat and were able to immediately report it to the Empire? That doesn’t sound like a simple stroke of competence to me.”

“...You’re right.”

“Even if the Demoniacs made a mistake and let someone slip, they couldn’t have been unaware of it. They should’ve relocated their base or chosen a more advantageous position before we arrived.”

It felt as though the Demoniacs had never intended to win in the first place—as if they had deliberately abandoned this base and their forces. Few things were more unsettling than a discarded pawn whose purpose remained unclear.

Wade, the second-best of Cardenas in terms of skill and experience, trusted his instincts. He was sure this battle carried no real significance. The Demoniacs and Behemoth had merely been expendable distractions. Still, despite his confidence, unresolved questions gnawed at him.

Why?

The combined strength of the Demoniacs and Behemoth had been formidable, and the expedition had only managed to keep casualties to a minimum because they had deployed three Demigod Tier individuals, two knight orders, and a mage battalion.

Could there truly be another strategic goal that justified discarding such a force? If so, it remained a perplexing mystery. Their discovery, their unfavorable positioning, and even their complete annihilation seemed deliberate. The reasoning for that, however, eluded Wade.

“When Commander Corbin returns, I’ll have him investigate further. There’s no point in digging here any longer.”

Dwelling on this any further would be a waste of time. Wade decisively cut off his train of thought, drawing his sword. The aura and mental strength he had exhausted through Areadbhar had been mostly restored, leaving him more than capable of taking down the remaining Demoniacs.

There was no need for advanced techniques—an Aura Blade sufficed against these stragglers.

Soon, the last of the Demoniacs was defeated, and the expedition to the far east concluded successfully. All that remained was a faint, bitter aftertaste of lingering doubts.

* * *

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After his decisive battle with Scylla, Leonard, hailed as the victor, sat cross-legged in a solitary chamber in Aquamarine, a place he had not visited in ages. Although he had reached a level where even standing on his hands did not affect his energy circulation, he preferred the posture he had practiced since the youth of his previous life.

His breathing slowed to an almost imperceptible rhythm, with intervals stretching nearly two hours. The energy coursing through his organs, bones, muscles, and skin gradually stabilized both his mind and body. Without the support of the Dragon Heart or the world’s laws, suppressing the aftereffects of the Vermillion Bird’s Descent was no easy task.

The backlash is harsher than when I used conceptual martial arts in the Transcendence Tier. Does this mean it’s still too soon to glimpse into the Deification Tier?

Leonard chuckled wryly at the thought.

As Sword Emperor Yeon Mu-Hyuk, he had failed to ascend to the Profound Realm despite dedicating his entire life to it. And now, how audacious it seemed to reach for the next stage after only recently ascending to the Demigod Tier.

Though he had rapidly accumulated power through fateful encounters and life-or-death battles with formidable foes, an unstable foundation in martial arts could collapse at any moment. For now, he could only be content with having successfully executed the One Origin Five Elements Divine Sword.

The balance of the five elements has been disrupted, likely due to the aftermath of the Vermillion Bird's Descent. It’ll probably take months to return back to normal. While I’ve gained deeper insights into Fire Qi and the Southern God Style, I doubt I can fully consolidate them.

Enlightenment, after all, wasn’t something that fully belonged to you the instant you attained it. Sometimes, it would slip away the moment you tried to hold onto it, and attempting to forcefully keep it could cause what little remained to fade and possibly lead to energy deviation.

With this understanding, honed by past experiences, Leonard calmed his mind and slowly opened his eyes. A burst of radiant, multicolored light briefly filled the chamber before dispersing into nothingness.

“...This should suffice for basic mobility. With Charybdis’ cult eradicated, there shouldn’t be any more battles for a while.”

Yet even as he thought this, Leonard’s brows twitched. The unease he had felt during the raid on the Outer God’s cult resurfaced.

The cult’s actions felt almost impulsive, as if they had decided to discard years, even centuries, of preparation. He couldn’t grasp the reason—or even a hint of rationality—behind the senseless actions of the Outer God’s cult, and that perplexed him deeply.

To be exact, it was like someone hosting a grand feast only to be overshadowed by an even more lavish invitation, prompting them to impulsively clear out their stock.

Leonard couldn’t forget the chill he had felt down his spine after the victory. The Outer Gods, already a menacing presence, seemed to be planning something even greater.

Even Scylla, a fragmented being of an Outer God, had been a catastrophe on its own. Had Leonard not had the remnant soul of Ancestor Cardenas with him or transcended his limits into the realm of a True God, victory would have been unthinkable.

If the southern seas expedition had not succeeded, the power vacuum in the region would have spelled disaster for the Cardenas family and the Arcadian Empire, leading to unimaginable calamities in the near future.