As time marched on, the prelude was slowly coming to an end. The conqueror’s arrival had changed the entire state of the board. Zald strode along his path with calm and purpose, even as the battle grew wilder and wilder around him.
“Ghaaah?!”
It was the same as on the night of the Great Conflict. The man was without equal. Anyone who crossed his path became his prey. All he had to do was touch them, brush them, graze them, and his opponents were torn apart.
“You are all soft. Disgustingly soft. Too mild to even tempt my appetite, and yet…”
Within the recesses of his helmet, Zald’s steely eyes narrowed.
I know they can fight harder than this… They’re luring me in.
Zald already knew, as Valletta had surmised, that all of Orario’s forces lay behind that wall of ice, waiting in ambush.
How many did their forces number? A hundred? A thousand?
Such details were none of Zald’s concern.
“Thank you,” he said. “For preparing my feast. You’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.”
Beneath his helmet, behind his unchanging expression, Zald thought of the countless offerings that were waiting for him. The city’s finest warriors were nothing more than food on his plate.
He straightened his back, filled his lungs, and bellowed.
“People of Orario! In our absence, you have grown weak!”
His rumbling voice carried to every corner of the city. Adventurers and Evils alike froze and listened to his words. Even the monsters were so shocked at the noise that they stopped what they were doing and looked up to the skies.
“Come out, and cater to me with your very lives! Summon every scrap of power! Of wisdom! Of inner strength!”
Zald’s absolute demand put a sheen of sweat on every adventurer’s brow.
“That is the only way you can face the truth! Face my hunger! For the sin of weakness is far worse than gluttony!”
Finn and Allen both wore deep scowls as they glared toward the south of the city whence the voice came.
“Do not feed me disappointment, for I can stand it no longer!!”
There was no one in the city with the power to dispute his words. Zald had taught them all as much on that fateful night of tyranny.
“My throat burns with despair. Not even the fires of hell on earth can quench this bitterness!”
The man was unstoppable. No one in the city could block his path. The five strongholds and the tower of Babel quaked at his approach.
And before long, the man stood before the wall of ice.
“And so it falls to you to satisfy my thirst,” he roared. “To heat my blood and boil my flesh!”
Zald lowered his voice and raised his sword, aiming to carve a gate to his next battlefield.
“Let the feast…commence.”
A shock wave shook the city, accompanied by a peal of thunder. Countless shards of glass-like ice filled the air.
Zald stepped through the cloud of debris that had been kicked up and entered the arena. As the dust settled, the white walls of Babel came into view.
Then his eyes went wide.
“………”
There was no one there. None of the city’s finest were waiting for him.
“…Where are they? …Wait…”
“…There’s only one?”
He narrowed his eyes as he studied the plaza that was conspicuously empty…with the exception of the one boaz who stood there.
Now that the icy dust had cleared, Zald could clearly see that Ottar was alone. The boaz glared back with a heart full of courage and opened his mouth to speak.
“We shall not be disturbed,” Warlord said to the conqueror. “The task of bringing you down falls to me alone.”