The Sword Emperor Transmigrates-Chapter 282

Leonard stood at the very front of the Golden Dragon knights, the expeditionary force’s vanguard. He turned to look behind him.

He murmured, “What a magnificent sight.”

Those who had surpassed a certain threshold of power naturally exuded an overwhelming presence, a force that emanated unconsciously. And here, thousands—no, tens of thousands—of such individuals had been gathered in one place. The sheer pressure of their combined aura rippled through the air, making it seem as if the heavens and earth themselves trembled.

Had they let out a battle cry, the force could have conjured a tempest. If they so much as stomped their feet, the ground would split apart, sending shockwaves for kilometers.

To those unfamiliar with Arcadia, the sight of Master-ranked warriors lined up as if they were mere foot soldiers was almost beyond comprehension. Three years of rigorous training and adjustment had sharpened these forces to a level far beyond their former selves, but for those who had come from beyond the empire’s borders, there had been little opportunity to grasp the true depths of Arcadia’s strength.

“I’ve always heard Arcadia was a great empire, but I never imagined the difference was this vast...!”

Some were simply stunned. Others, upon realizing the harsh reality before them, felt their very spirits break.

These were individuals who had once reigned like kings in their own domains—proud, unchallenged. Their arrogance had been boundless. But now, faced with Arcadia’s overwhelming might—thousands of warriors at the Transcendence Tier and mages at Class 7—their misplaced ambitions were utterly shattered.

The opportunists, those who had secretly harbored thoughts of retreating should the situation turn dire, now found their faces drained of color.

They understood now: should they ever betray Arcadia and become fugitives, their lives would be over in an instant.

“Advance.”

The command was given.

At the forefront stood the Golden Dragon knights. Behind them, the forces gathered from across the continent were strategically positioned between the Seven Great Orders, forming an unbreakable wedge to prevent enemy breakthroughs.

Marching behind them were corps of high-ranking mages—each at least at Class 5 or 6—accompanied by the magitech weapons of Jehoia. It was a tidal wave of sheer force.

“Let’s go.”

Leonard felt the electric surge of momentum pushing against his back as he took his first step forward. The Golden Dragon knights were the sharpest, most unyielding spear on this battlefield. Nothing could stand in their way—except for those at the level of Demigods. Until the moment Crom Dubh appeared, their duty was clear: to carve through the enemy ranks without mercy.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Their measured, rhythmic steps thundered across the land, and at last, the forces began to enter the Hell Gate. With only hours left before the Outer Gods’ invasion, the last army of mankind marched into the netherworld—the world of the dead.

Whether they would ever return to the world of the living would depend entirely on the battle that awaited them.

* * *

The Asphodel Meadows was a vast stretch of land, nearly half of the Underworld, now reclaimed as the divine territory of Hades. It was the most suitable battleground for a large-scale frontal assault.

It was once a place where neither the virtuous nor the wicked roamed. It was a vast, gray plain where souls would wander until they were reborn. The asphodel flowers planted ensured that the dead would never know hunger.

Today, those gray meadows would become a mountain of corpses, and the overflowing blood would pool into rivers.

“Perhaps after today, it should be renamed the Crimson Plains.”

Surveying the assembled forces, Hades smirked at the tickling premonition of death in the air.

The Underworld was meant to house the dead, not create new ones. Yet even among these warriors—men and women of incomparable strength—he could see the looming shadow of inevitable death upon their faces.

If they lost, they would all die. Even if they won, most of them would not survive.

“They’ve prepared as thoroughly as they can... but will it be enough?”

As one of the old gods of the past era, Hades knew all too well the monstrous might of the beings from the outer dimensions. A dozen Demigod Tier foes were guaranteed. Many True Gods would likely descend as well. Even with all their preparation, it was still far from enough.

That was why the expeditionary force had chosen not to charge straight to Crom Dubh’s seal. Instead, they planned to make full use of the defenses they had spent years constructing.

The craftsmen of Jehoia had not spent three years building just the colossus Talos. The Titans, which had once been mere temporary barriers during the demoniac conquest, had been recreated. And beyond that, weapons and facilities deemed too costly to mass-produce were now deployed in full force.

This fortress was more reinforced than the strongholds of the Three Noble Houses. For a few minutes, it could withstand even the fragments of True Gods without the expeditionary force’s intervention.

“Even with all our forces and fortifications, lasting three hours will be a miracle.”

“...That’s all we can manage? Although the average quality was lower than that during the demoniac conquest, we have a tenfold difference in troop size.”

“We’re only able to hold out for three hours because we have tenfold the difference in forces.” Corbin, the Light Dragon Commander, spoke coldly, forcing them to face reality.

“Even if they revive, Demoniacs take time to replenish their numbers, and their resurrection requires energy. The Outer Gods’ servant races are different. There could be hundreds of millions of them waiting in their home dimensions, if not more. If we don’t kill Crom Dubh and sever their dimensional link, even if we maintain a kill ratio of 100-to-1, we will be completely overwhelmed.”

The Outer Gods were not mere entities. Each one ruled over an entire dimension, commanding their own personal universe.

The weaker among them may only hold dominion over a single nation’s worth of land. But the strongest? They could control realms larger than the Middle Realm itself. Fighting multiple Outer Gods meant fighting everything they ruled, including their dimensions.

Crom Dubh had opened a path that bypassed the dimensional walls. Though only limited numbers could cross at a time, the flood would be endless.

“If possible, we would mobilize all our forces capable of confronting a True God–level entity at Crom Dubh and kill it immediately.” Simon Magus let out a wry chuckle, shaking his head. “But the Outer Gods are not fools. They may think differently from us, but they are not stupid. Before we reach Crom Dubh, they’ll send several True God–level fragments to deplete our forces.”

“The expeditionary force can handle up to three of them,” Corbin said grimly. “After that, we’d be down to delaying tactics—counting the fight in minutes rather than victories. And unlike us, they have all the time in the world.”

“We need to go over the list of Outer Gods expected to appear. Our strategy must be tailored to counter each one.”

The Knight Commanders of Cardenas, the Grand Magi of the Arcane Society—every Demigod considered the pinnacle of the current age had gathered in one place, carefully planning their strategy against the True Gods to come. Hades could not offer direct assistance. Once the battle began, he would have to fight Crom Dubh for dominion over the netherworld.

Wade—who had been examining Talos, the masterpiece crafted by the Jehoia family and soon to be piloted by Drake—finally said, “That would be perfect for dealing with Hydra or Scylla.”

Demian, agreeing with the assessment, shared the information on Talos. “In the ancient records of Argonautica, Talos was said to possess strength beyond physical suppression and immunity to corrosion and toxins. This weapon should be able to handle even massive foes, unless we’re dealing with an Outer God capable of precisely dismantling its weak points.”

“Like Surtr?”

“Oh, right. You, Leonard, and Sister Audrey encountered him once on the Spriggan frontier, didn’t you? You’re correct. Unlike most jotun, he’s small, but that makes him all the more fearsome. His agility and combat prowess are unmatched, making him a poor match-up for Talos.”

The priority list included only those Outer Gods recorded in the Order of the Red Dragon’s archives—those that had attempted to breach the Middle Realm multiple times through Rifts or Corroded Realms. Of course, there was always the chance that an unrecorded entity would emerge, and in such cases, they could only adapt on the spot.

The last remaining time was spent on discussing strategies. Finally, the dark seal in the distance—which had stood firm for so long—began to crumble.

“It’s opening,” Hades said.

Despite the fact that over a hundred thousand troops had gathered between the vanguard and the defensive line, the silence was absolute, with only the sound of breathing.

Not a single whisper was exchanged. The tension was suffocating, the atmosphere taut like a bowstring.

———Crack!

A fracture ran across the surface of the seal, jagged and branching like lightning through a darkened void. A crimson-black glow seeped from the fissures, unholy and ominous. Its color seemed to corrupt the souls of those who beheld it.

There was no way the entities breaching through from the outer dimensions could harbor any goodwill.

Malice surged from the breaking seal like a tidal wave, slamming into the assembled troops, chilling their spines with its sheer intensity.

Then, a piercing shriek rang out. An incandescent slash cut through the seal’s cracks as though cleaving the very fabric of space. Even the Demigod Tier swordmasters among them had to acknowledge the brilliance of the strike.

Those who recognized its source did so immediately—Leonard and Audrey.

“It’s Surtr—!”

A body less than ten meters tall yet brimming with condensed power. In his grasp was a greatsword forged from the flames of Muspelheim—a weapon so potent that its mere presence tore at the surrounding space.

Surtr was a being even Odin and Thor had feared and guarded against. He was the Outer God destined to bring Asgard to ruin. Though he had lost that role during the God-Slaying War, the destroyer had returned.

This was not the incomplete form Leonard had once encountered on the Spriggan frontier. No, this was a near-true incarnation, one that had severed part of his own body to cast himself through the dimensional rift.

—■■■■, ■■.

As the first entity to emerge from the breaking seal, Surtr raised his sword. Just as he was about to carve through the remaining vestiges of the darkness—

Flash!

A brilliant golden radiance erupted from the center of the expeditionary forces.

“This presence...?!”

“No way!”

The Commanders of Cardenas turned, their expressions struck with disbelief. They had every reason to be shocked. Even those with heightened senses from the Dragon Blood Awakening felt it—a pull beyond logic.

For those who had reached the domain of Demigods, their very souls recognized what it was. A brilliance purer and more resplendent than any other—the radiance of the Gold Dragon’s lineage.

Not even the legendary Archduke of Sword Declan had ever drawn so close to the source of their blood’s power. It was an awakening permitted to one alone—the very foundation of the Cardenas family.

—The greatest swordmaster of the jotun? He is worthy enough to be my opponent!

“This is quite the start, isn’t it? Well, not that he’s an enemy we can afford to hold back against.”

Ancestor Cardenas, who had descended into Declan’s body, ignited her form with golden flames and stood face to face with Surtr.

—...■■■■■.

Rather than breaking the seal, Surtr turned away from it. He knew that he would die if he ignored the opponent before him and that this adversary was one not to be underestimated.

The Lord of Muspelheim against the progenitor of the Cardenas family—the legendary and first Archduke of Sword.

For a long, silent moment, the two swordmasters locked eyes across a distance of hundreds of meters. Then, in an instant, they accelerated to the speed of light, unleashing their slashes in a blinding clash of steel.

Power against power.

For True God beings, their physical size was meaningless. By some twist of fate, both Ancestor Cardenas and Surtr were warriors who eschewed divine authorities, meaning their battle would be a pure test of swordsmanship.

—————————!!!!

The moment their blades met, the ground itself upended, and the entire seal containing Crom Dubh shattered.

The crumbling wall of darkness gaped open, forming a rift to another dimension. From within, they came, an army spilling forth.

Ten thousand? A hundred thousand? A million? The numbers were too vast to count with the naked eye. Like pebbles flung by a slingshot, monstrous forms rained down and crashed into the ground.

“...Hydra is among them.”

“I see Monegarm, the Giant of Plague. That thing feasts on corpses and spreads disease. We need to push it as far from the battlefield as possible.”

“One more is still being summoned... looks like Balor. If that really is him, we must eliminate him before his evil eye activates.”

Just as they had feared. Four True Gods had been deployed, accompanied by several Demigod apostles. The enemy’s intent was blatant—to exhaust them before the main battle began. And the worst part? Even knowing this, they had no choice but to face it head-on.

A distance of several kilometers was nothing to beings of their level, as they could reach transcendental speeds. The expeditionary force’s key fighters sprang into action. All but one.

“Commander Leonard, we leave Crom Dubh to you.”

As the Golden Dragon knights led the others to the frontlines, Leonard alone remained—standing before the incoming tide, sword in hand.

His task? To hold the battlefield and bring down Crom Dubh.

“Leave it to me.” Leonard gazed at the edge of his jet-black blade and declared, “I will claim Crom Dubh’s head with my sword.”