The Ancient Imperial Calendar, Year 1814
Krael had died at the hands of the Devil King. His son, Arael, burning with a thirst for vengeance, found his path blocked by the Devil King's son, a Devil Prince.
"Your opponent is here. Where do you think you're going?"
Arael swung his sword with all his might, pouring all his rage into the attack against the devil prince.
"Ahhh,that hurt!"
Arael pressed his attacks relentlessly, while the devil prince could do little more than defend.
"You are quite strong.You are a worthy opponent for me."
The devil prince, his eyes rolling back in fury, spotted an opening in Arael's assault.
"Your end has come!"
Just as he was about to thrust his sword home, Arael swung his sword with incredible agility, slashing deeply into the devil prince's neck. He gathered aura in his other hand, creating a small but powerful aura shield. The devil prince's sword lodged itself in this shield, unable to reach Arael.
"You fought well,grandson of Harloumen."
The devil prince collapsed to the ground, covered in blood.
The Devil King looked at his dead son lying on the ground.
"You are weak,Lucyharam."
The Eighth Prince of the Devils, Lucyharam, had died in his duel with Arael Kislavein.
Arael and the Devil King locked eyes.
Meanwhile, a fierce duel was raging between Marco and the Devil Prince Ebrehe.
Marco swung his sword, coated in a golden aura and accelerated by mana-enhanced arms, at a speed invisible to the eye.
Devil Prince Ebrehe could barely manage to defend himself with an aura shield that looked like it was made of black mist.
Ebrehe stomped his foot on the ground to repel the attacks.
A sharp stone stake shot up from the ground in the blink of an eye.
Marco barely avoided being impaled by leaping back at the last moment.
"Now is my chance!"
Ebrehe lunged forward with a speed spell, swinging his sword swiftly to decapitate Marco.
Marco channeled all his aura into his neck.
Ebrehe's sword struck Marco's neck but failed to cut it.
"Impossible!"
"Ugh, damn it, he almost broke my neck. But it ends here."
He gathered mana in his hand; it became as hot as lava boiling inside a volcano.
Marco drove his fist directly into Ebrehe's heart.
The fist burned through Ebrehe's skin and plunged inside. The moment it touched Ebrehe's heart, it exploded.
"Ugggh!"
Ebrehe collapsed to the ground, vomiting blood, a giant hole where his heart should be. He fell face down, closed his eyes a few seconds later, and bid farewell to life. The Seventh Prince of the Devils was dead.
Brian and the Sixth Prince, Bellual, were engaged in a fistfight.
Their swords had broken.
Their fists, filled with aura, had replaced the broken swords.
Bellual looked at Brian with the face of a smiling psychopath.
"It's been many years since I fought fist to fist like this,grandson of Harloumen."
Brian asked curiously,
"You keep saying'grandson of Harloumen.' Which Harloumen?"
Bellual was surprised.
"Your Emperor,of course."
Brian was not satisfied with this answer.
"There are eight Emperors with the same name."
Bellual understood.
"Ah,okay. So it's normal to have several Emperors with the same name."
"Obviously," thought Brian.
Brian lunged forward.
Bellual was too slow to react.
"Ahhh,you bastard!"
Brian launched a series of consecutive attacks.
"A devil is calling me a bastard?"
Brian landed his strongest punch in Bellual's stomach.
"AAAAAHHHHHH!"
Bellual writhed in pain and collapsed to the ground.
Brian wrapped his foot in aura, cast a strengthening spell with his mana, and delivered his hardest kick to Bellual's back.
"Ahhh ah ugh."
Death was near for Bellual, and he knew it. He tried to get up.
"DIE!"
Brian rained down lethal punches on Bellual with all his strength.
Bellual tried to endure, wrapping his body in his aura.
"If only I were a powerful mage, maybe I could have survived,"thought Bellual.
He raised his hand to the sky. A small black cloud formed. A golden lightning bolt descended from the sky to the earth with all its fury.
The golden lightning struck Bellual, burning all his internal organs until they were charred. Bellual wanted to scream but couldn't; his tongue and vocal cords were burned. He looked at Brian with pained eyes, as if begging him to kill him.
"Just die already.I feel no pity for you, you son of a bitch."
Brian impaled him with a spear made of aura. The Sixth Prince of the Devils, Bellual, was dead.
However, not all duels ended in victory.
"Ahhh!"
Juan writhed in pain on the ground.
"How boring.I ended up with the weakest one."
This was the Fifth Prince of the Devils, Kiriam, who looked at his chosen opponent, Juan Yuan, with a disappointed face.
Juan, in pain, tried to stand up.
"You're like a cockroach.Die already."
He spewed a massive fireball towards Juan.
Juan surrounded himself with a water shield. When the fireball hit, the shield drank his mana like water.
When the fireball vanished, Juan had accepted his death.
"You held on well.Anyway, die."
Kiriam beheaded Juan. His head leaped dozens of meters into the air before falling to the ground.
Marco's loyal aide, Juan Yuan, had died at the hands of the Fifth Devil Prince, Kiriam.
"I wonder what the others are doing,"thought Kiriam.
The Fourth Prince, Hassibal, and the Ashbrum Dynasty Lord, IX Junric, were locked in a battle of endurance, their swords pressed against each other.
The pressure from the swords was causing the ground to collapse and sending out waves of aura.
"You are strong.It's clear you come from a good lineage. Are you also from Harloumen's bloodline?" asked Hassibal.
Junric answered Hassibal's question.
"One of my ancestors was,but I am descended from his half-brother, Carl."
Hassibal put on a terrifying smile.
"But you are still a grandson."
Junric felt a momentary fear.
"Idiot!"
Hassibal did not miss this opportunity. He pushed with all his might and broke Junric's sword.
"Oh shit!"
"Die!"
Hassibal swung his sword at a terrifying speed from Junric's head downward.
Junric wrapped his entire body in aura, but Hassibal's sword, coated in devilish magic, shattered Junric's aura shield to pieces.
"What kind of magic is this?!"
Junric ran back, putting distance between himself and Hassibal. In seconds, he created a sword and shield from his golden aura.
Hassibal reacted mockingly to Junric's actions.
"I suppose this is where the phrase'delaying the inevitable' comes from."
Junric ignored Hassibal's taunts. He lunged forward, swinging his sword rapidly, but the moment it touched Hassibal's devil-magic-coated sword, it vanished.
"How is such a thing possible?!"
Hassibal laughed as he answered.
"Do you think it matters?"
Hassibal swung his sword twice. The first blow destroyed Junric's armor; the second tore his flesh. As the devilish magic spread through his body, Junric, before dying, spewed his last remaining mana at Hassibal.
"Don't waste your effort.I am stronger than you in every way."
Hassibal created a mana shield and repelled Junric's attack without taking a single step back.
Hassibal lunged forward. Junric was paralyzed in the face of approaching death.
"No,no, no! I don't want to die! Not yet! My Dynasty, my siblings, my people!"
His head was severed.
Junric's entire life flashed before his eyes.
"I thought I had many more years to live... What will happen to my Dynasty, to my last surviving sibling?"
The 122nd Lord of the Ashbrum Dynasty, IX Junric Ashbrum, closed his eyes on life at the age of 18.
The morale of the Ashbrum soldiers was shattered by the death of their Dynasty Lord.
"Damn it!"
"This is impossible!"
"It's over...the 1800-year-old Ashbrum Dynasty has ended!"
At that moment when all hope seemed lost, Marco Ashbrum stood holding a spear made of aura, with the head of Devil Prince Ebrehe impaled on its tip.
"GET ON YOUR FEET!EVEN THESE DEVILS GO MAD TO AVENGE THEIR DEAD PRINCES! AND YOU ARE KNEELING?! GET UP AND SHOW THEM THE POWER OF THE ASHBRUM DYNASTY! ATTACK!"
Encouraged by Marco, the Ashbrum soldiers attacked, disregarding death, not caring how many died. Only two thoughts were on their minds: avenging their Dynasty Lord and Marco Ashbrum, whom they saw as their future Dynasty Lord.
The Third Prince, Eliam, and the Duel Master of the Blood Academy, Harloumen, were engaged in a fierce sword duel.
Eliam laughed and praised Harloumen.
"Hahaha!Finally, a worthy opponent!"
Despite being enemies, Harloumen responded to the praise with a smile.
"Finally,someone my equal. Our fight will become legendary."
Their swords clashed dozens, hundreds, thousands of times with a ringing that could shatter eardrums.
They grew tired, shed blood and sweat, but neither noticed the passing time, focused on enjoying the moment.
Harloumen felt the muscles in his arm tear.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!"
The pain from the torn muscles brought Harloumen to his knees.
Eliam, pitying his opponent's state, stood still.
"Heal yourself.I'll wait."
Harloumen did not submit to his opponent's mercy.
"I couldn't even if I wanted to,Prince Eliam."
Eliam asked in surprise.
"What do you mean?I've seen many of you heal yourselves with magic."
Harloumen struggled to his feet.
"Only those of Ashbrum blood can do that,and not a single one of my ancestors was an Ashbrum."
Eliam understood the problem.
"I see.A pity. I wanted to fight you longer."
Harloumen could barely stand; he was too tired to even move his sword.
"I wish we could have fought longer.Devil, or whatever you are, I respect you."
Eliam lunged forward and swung his sword at Harloumen's heart.
"I respect you too,grandson and namesake of Harloumen. I will never forget you. I am Eliam, the Third Prince of the Sapharos."
Before death touched him, Harloumen spoke his last words.
"I am Harloumen Kislavein,descended from the 19th Dynasty Lord, Jorvig."
He fell to the ground. The Duel Master of the Blood Academy, Harloumen, died, pierced through the heart by a sword, just like his ancestor, the last Emperor whose name he shared.
The duel between the Second Prince, Izabram Sapharos, and the Head Master of the Blood Academy, Kisrael Kislavein, was the most violent.
Although Kisrael was good in combat, he preferred magic.
Kisrael never moved from his spot.
From where he stood, he hurled massive fireballs at Izabram, summoned stone and earth spears from the ground, trying to impale him.
"I can't get close!What kind of power is this? How large is his mana pool?!"
Lost in thought, Izabram ran into a wall.
"What is this?"
A stone wall had blocked his escape.
"You're right where I want you."
Hundreds of times higher than where Izabram stood, there was a thin, black cloud, invisible to the eye but filled with immense mana.
"Die in agony,devil."
A dark blood-red lightning bolt of unprecedented brightness, filled with mana, fell from the black cloud onto Izabram.
"AHHHHHHHH!"
Unlike his brothers, Izabram died without even touching his opponent.
His body was turned to ash; his internal organs, skin, and muscles were burned. It was only a matter of time before he was lost among the corpses around him.
"Now that my duel is over,back to work."
As Kisrael advanced towards the Devil King, crushing devils like insects, the final duel had begun.
Tyrel and the First Prince of the Devils, Lesefhar Sapharos, were the last ones dueling.
"You seem like a powerful one,"said Lesefhar.
Tyrel prepared to attack.
"You too.I don't think we need to talk much."
Lesefhar prepared to receive the attack.
"Talking while fighting is the work of a complete idiot anyway."
Tyrel agreed with Lesefhar.
"You're right.It's a very stupid thing."
Tyrel attacked. Lesefhar parried.
The duel turned into a battle of power.
Both were channeling their mana and auras into each other's bodies, aiming to kill their opponent from the inside using their mana and auras.
They ignored the noise and chaos around them, focusing only on each other.
A long time passed; neither could gain the upper hand, and they decided to resort to their hidden trump cards.
Tyrel used the Dark Magic he inherited from his ancestors. Lesefhar used the Devilish Magic he inherited from his.
Lesefhar spoke arrogantly.
"Prepare for your painful death,grandson of Harloumen. Even a speck of Devilish Magic is enough to destroy a human."
"He's starting to get scared. I'll finish him the moment he gives an opening,"thought Lesefhar.
But things did not go as he expected. His Devilish Magic was being absorbed by the Dark Magic.
"This is nonsense!What kind of magic is this?!"
Tyrel smiled. He channeled all his Dark Magic into Lesefhar's body.
"Ahhh!What is this? It's taking my power, my aura, my life energy, everything!"
Lesefhar's agonizing screams rang in their ears. Even Tyrel made an aura blade to cut Lesefhar's throat just to silence them.
Lesefhar collapsed.
Of the eight duels between Humans and Devils, Humans had won five, and Devils had won three.
"You're next,Devil King."
The duel winners ran towards the Devil King.
Arael was attacking the Devil King in fury.
"DIE!DIE, YOU SON OF A BITCH! I WILL AVENGE MY FATHER!"
The Devil King parried a few attacks, then swung his sword with a small fraction of his power.
Arael was thrown back meters but landed on his feet.
The Devil King approached with a mocking attitude.
"I thought you would fall and die."
As Arael, enraged, was about to get up and attack again, someone grabbed his shoulder.
"Calm down,Commander Arael."
It was Tyrel.
"Commander Tyrel!"
Kisrael, Marco, and Brian had also arrived there.
The Devil King was angry to see so many people facing him.
"If you are here,it means my sons are dead."
A few seconds later, three devil princes arrived.
"We didn't all die,Father," said Eliam.
Only three of the Devil King's nine sons remained alive: Kiriam, Hassibal, and Eliam.
The Devil King looked at them with pride.
"So,not all my sons are weak."
The devil armies were on the verge of annihilating the human armies.
The Devil King spoke confidently.
"Your armies are destroyed.After I kill you, I will kill your strongest one as well."
Kisrael laughed mockingly.
"You?Don't make us laugh. There isn't a single person in this world who can challenge our Dynasty Lord."
The Devil King put on a mocking expression.
"Well,that Dynasty Lord of yours hasn't even managed to get here yet, even though he's been fighting the weakest soldiers in my army all this time."
As their armies were being progressively destroyed, Kisrael and those with him began to despair.
"Damn it, where are you, Dynasty Lord?"thought Kisrael.
The Devil King lunged forward.
"Enough.Die, grandsons of Harloumen."
Just as he was about to behead all five of them with his sword, a massive sword shattered the Devil King's blade into pieces.
"THE DYNASTY LORD!"
They all said the same thing in unison.
"Advance!Kill them all!" said a Blood Hawk.
The Blood Hawks advanced at great speed, cutting down devils, killing all of them, and surrounding the Devil King and his sons.
"You are the one who will die,Devil King," said Orsman.
The Lord of the Kislavein Dynasty, IV Orsman, and the King of the Devils, VII Kibele, had met face to face for the first and last time. The final fight was about to begin.