Demon King of the Royal Class-Chapter 663

They had almost failed to subdue just one Immortal Master-class entity.

If Cliffman hadn't shown up just in time, things could have turned dangerous.

Cliffman, soaked and breathing heavily, glanced over at Riana and Harriet.

"I figured you guys might be here," he said.

"Th-thank you... It was really close," Riana replied.

While fighting elsewhere on the battlefield, Cliffman had noticed lightning striking in the midst of the Allied Forces and realized Riana was there. He also recognized that they were under attack from an entity within the Allied Forces, and not by a monster.

Riana staggered to her feet.

It had been just one Immortan. Even though it was a Master-class combatant, it was just one among the thousands of Immortals scattered across the battlefield.

Harriet and Riana had expended an enormous amount of energy just to fend off that single entity.

Despite the relentless downpour, many had noticed the explosive bursts of lightning as they unleashed their immense power. Cliffman, somewhere on the battlefield, had seen it as well, and rushed to protect Riana and Harriet.

Naturally, what Cliffman had seen, the Immortals could see too.

Riana and Harriet glanced around, their faces etched with despair.

"They're coming... more of them...”

Just stopping one Immortal had almost cost them their lives. But more Immortals were beginning to converge on their position, one after another, from all across the rain-soaked battlefield. They wouldn’t be facing just a single foe this time.

Harriet clenched her teeth as she watched the daunting number of Immortals closing in from every direction.

"We might need to move," she said.

"Move where?" Riana asked.

Harriet bit her lip, considering their options.

They were in the thick of battle, penned in by monsters on all sides. The Immortals would hunt them down no matter where they went, unless they left the battlefield entirely. But fleeing meant leaving the Immortals for someone else to face.

Was survival the priority? Or was it more crucial to eliminate even one more Immortal?

At this pivotal moment, Cliffman turned to Harriet.

"Cast every enhancement spell you can on me," he said.

"Are you really going to face them?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"Yeah," he replied. "I'll hold them off somehow. If things turn sour, then you need to run."

Cliffman took a deep breath, steadying himself. They had to do everything they could. They had to push themselves to their limits. That was what Cliffman believed, and neither Riana nor Harriet disagreed.

The magical stars continued to rain down fierce beams of light upon the monsters. If Riana and Harriet retreated from their position, the number of casualties would only grow. They had to hold their ground.

Harriet cast spells to slow the advance of the Immortal soldiers as much as she could, while Riana unleashed lightning across the battlefield as she always did.

It was Cliffman's responsibility to protect the two of them.

The Demon King's forces were powerful but severely outnumbered, and none of the Allied Forces fighting alongside them had any obligation to protect them. Protecting or killing was a responsibility that each person had to bear.

Harriet's protection and enhancement spells enveloped Cliffman, strengthening his entire being.

He had left his position in the raging battle. But how many on that battlefield were truly where they needed to be?

This was a fight to safeguard something dear. That was why Cliffman had come running, determined to defend what mattered most to him.

But did he have the strength to succeed?

He didn't understand why the Immortals had vanished only to return, or why they were now targeting their crucial allies. Yet, he realized he didn't need to understand. This was a fight to protect something precious, and it was only natural for him to be standing where he was, ready to defend what he held dear.

"Hoo...”

There was movement within areas of the battlefield that seemed impossible to reach, unmistakably signaling the presence of the Immortals. In the middle of the chaos, the Demon King was being relentlessly pursued by thousands of these Immortals.

Everyone was consumed by the immediate threat before them. There was no hope of reinforcements.

The only silver lining was that the Immortal archmages’ attacks were being effectively neutralized by Riana and Harriet's expert long-range sniping. The real danger lay with the Swordsmasters, with their formidable anti-magic and defensive prowess shielding them as they charged.

Riana and Harriet's influence was felt across the entire battlefield. Their loss would be a devastating blow, one from which the Allied Forces might never recover.

Cliffman could only focus on confronting the enemy directly in front of him, doing his utmost to hold the line. Those two had become too important to him. He needed to shield them from the monstrous Master-class combatants that were approaching, even though he hadn't achieved that level himself.

Wasn't it presumptuous? Wasn't it impossible?

Could someone like him really do it?

Whatever the case, he wasn't standing there because he could; he was there because he had to.

And so, he went.

Before the enemies could reach those he was protecting, he charged forth.

He hadn't reached Master class. Yet Cliffman's entire body was wrapped in a blue mana barrier, and even the sword he wielded radiated a terrifying aura.

The air crackled with energy as fierce flames and lightning surged around Cliffman's sword, transforming it into a radiant Aura Blade, glowing with an intense blue light.

Harriet had poured every ounce of her power into casting the strongest protection, enhancement, and enchantment spells she could muster. With the support of the most powerful mage, they had a fighting chance.

Cliffman lunged forward, thrusting his sword at the charging Immortal.

The clash of metal rang out, and he felt a heavy impact. Against all odds, the impact did not send his sword flying, nor did it shatter the blade or his body. Both remained intact, defying expectations.

It was possible. Though his physical abilities had limits, he was bolstered by boundless magic.

Flash!

Riana added her fierce lightning to support him. He was too close to the target to dodge the bolt of electricity, but Harriet's protective magic shielded him from its full force.

Crackle!

"Huff...!"

Bang!

After repelling the blow of the advancing Immortal, Cliffman swung his sword with a trance-like focus.

His body and mind swiftly adjusted to this extraordinary state.

Bang!

Cliffman hammered relentlessly at the Aura Armor encasing the Immortal's body.

Riana's lightning crackled around them, while Harriet worked tirelessly to bind the Immortal's feet, buying Cliffman precious moments to land a decisive strike.

Clang!

At last, his sword pierced through the armor, embedding itself in the Immortal's chest. The powerful aura enchantment within the blade erupted, reducing the Immortal to dust.

Cliffman breathed heavily as he tried to regain his composure.

One down.

With the support of a formidable mage and the backing of the strongest supernatural force, Cliffman had managed to face a Master-class entity. Yet, even after a few short exchanges, his body felt on the verge of collapse.

And more were coming.

Just handling one had been exhausting, and as their fighting grew more intense and conspicuous, more Immortals on the battlefield would start to notice and approach the three of them.

Could he do it? Could he really do it?

Cliffman wiped the rain from his face and steadied his breath. The same obsessive thoughts surged through his mind.

He gritted his teeth.

He had never fought because he thought he could win. Every battle since the Gate Incident had been like that. While he often found himself in fights he could handle, there were always unpredictable elements on the field. More enemies than anticipated, or unexpected foes...

It had become almost routine for comrades to fall in battle, and many times Cliffman returned alone from a battlefield where everyone else had perished.

There was something peculiar about Cliffman. He often fought alongside warriors more skilled than himself, yet even in battles where they all met their end, Cliffman always came back alive.

And it wasn’t because he retreated. He always completed the mission on his own and returned.

A strange power... His talent for battle seemed more like a supernatural gift. Even his friends had begun to say as much.

Cliffman didn't deny it. He simply believed his talent was more akin to luck than any supernatural power. He survived purely by luck. There was no other way to describe it. Even in battles that took the lives of Master-class combatants, he somehow emerged unscathed.

The person most bewildered by his continued survival and victories was Cliffman himself. Eventually, he began to wonder if he was surviving at the expense of others' lives. Perhaps it wasn't his strength that kept him alive. Had he been borrowing someone else's luck all this time?

There were times when he outlasted the fiercest monsters and the stronger warriors as they perished together, leaving him to defeat the remaining threats himself. That was why he considered his talent to lie in the realm of luck.

He knew better than anyone that his survival wasn't due to skill or strength. On the battlefield, one person's luck often spelled another's misfortune. He had survived countless times at the expense of others.

Having witnessed such a thing play out repeatedly, he became deeply hesitant to fight alongside anyone. If his talent lay in surviving and achieving victory through the misfortune of others, it felt more like a curse than a gift.

Thus, he continually thrust himself into the harshest of battlefields. He sought to fight alone in the most perilous places. In a way, it was his protest against some unknown force.

‘If my talent is that I can be victorious in any battle, let's see if I can survive this time, too. Let's see if I can make it through even the direst situations without any comrades to sacrifice.’

And so, he volunteered for suicidal missions—and survived. He wasn't particularly strong, yet he always managed to achieve victory.

He always survived, but victory never brought him joy. Places he deemed dangerous often turned out to be manageable, giving him battles he could overcome.

Every day, luck seemed to follow him in ways unrelated to combat.

Every victory, every time he survived, felt like a curse.

Soon, he came to realize that his talent wasn't one of strength, but rather a knack for uncanny coincidences.

Survival by sheer chance.

If that was the case, then while presence might help them win the battle, Riana and Harriet could still perish.

Even so, he couldn't stay away. He couldn't stand by and watch from a distance, even knowing they might perish because of him.

The Immortals advanced relentlessly across the battlefield. But he wasn't alone anymore. He had to fight to protect them.

And so, Cliffman held onto hope.

His body had been fortified with powerful support magic, making him strong enough to face a Swordsmaster. Yet, in the end, he needed to rely on his own strength.

If he wasn't strong, he would crumble before the advancing Immortals.

‘So, just for today. Just for today alone.’

The talent that had once only ensured his survival now held the promise of something more. This time, he hoped it would grant him strength.

He no longer wanted the cursed luck that helped him dodge enemy strikes by mere chance, or cause someone else to take the blow meant for him. He wished for it to transform into a sword that could pierce his foes and a shield that could protect his friends.

He hoped that his talent, Combat, would shift its course.

He wasn't sure if it was the result of the numerous protection and enhancement spells Harriet had cast or the stabilization magic that calmed his mind. Or perhaps that damned talent had finally answered his plea. But as the looming crisis approached, Cliffman's mind found an unexpected tranquility.

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The mana that had been surging through Cliffman's body gradually settled as he steadied his breath. The mana in Cliffman's hand began to flow along the length of the sword.

Riana's eyes widened as she stared at him. "You...”

But Cliffman couldn't hear her. He was lost in his own thoughts, clinging to hope and his own silent wishes.

Hadn't there been enough coincidences and strokes of luck already? Wasn't it time for all of it to finally bear fruit? How much longer would he have to endure this miserable existence, relying on this absurd luck? Survival built on coincidence was still survival, but he longed for something more.

Life gained through luck is still life.

Over time, Cliffman had amassed a wealth of experience.

Coincidences piled up, one after another, until they became something more than mere chance. As long as his luck persisted, the experiences it brought him would eventually take the shape of something meaningful.

Even if his journey had been marred by misfortune, the battles he had been in had left their mark, and it was he himself who had fought them. No one else had fought in his place.

The lessons from those moments had steadily built up. That experience, gained through the blood of comrades and allies who had stood beside him on the battlefield, had accumulated to the point of overflowing.

In an instant, Cliffman's body vanished.

Swoosh!

In the blink of an eye, the Immortal that was charging in was sliced cleanly in half at the waist.

A sudden awakening.

Harriet and Riana were stunned by what they witnessed.

"What’s happening?"

"What, what is he...?"

In a flash, Cliffman lunged at the Immortal advancing on Riana and Harriet, swinging his sword with precision.

His body was pushed beyond its limits, fueled by the powerful enhancement magic cast by the world's strongest mage. The only thing holding him back was himself. Now that the void had been filled, it was no surprise that the Immortal failed to sense Cliffman's approach.

No—at this stage, Harriet's assistance might not even have been necessary.

Clang! Bang! Clang!

In just three swift exchanges, Cliffman's sword found an opening, slicing its way through the Immortal's wrist and severing its neck.

Cliffman didn't pause to marvel or admire his handiwork. With eyes as calm and cold as ice, he scanned the field for his next target and moved without hesitation.

He had surpassed his limits, but it wasn't just about his experience paving the way to reach Master class.

Cliffman's transformation was unique. It was as if his lifelong streak of cursed luck had led him to this very moment. He had always survived by sheer chance and coincidence. But at this point, those elements were no longer necessary.

The experiences he had gained from relying on luck had brought him to a pivotal juncture. His journey, built on the foundations of chance, had reached its climax. He was standing there, at the end of this path that had been forged by survival and experience, ready for whatever came next.

It was only natural that he would evolve into a being for whom victory was assured. This meant reaching a point where survival and triumph no longer depended on luck or chance. A destiny in which victory was assured.

His talent hovered between the realms of supernatural power and pure fate, constantly growing.

It was a bloody destiny, forged through countless sacrifices and deaths.

This talent, known as “Combat,” had finally reached its peak.

***

Swoosh!

The sudden downpour was surely Riana's doing.

I understood her intentions clearly. The archmages' bombardment had grown wildly inaccurate. But the Immortals within sight were still relentlessly chasing me.

Whoosh!

"Ugh...!"

Armed with the Flame of Tuesday, Tiamata, and Alsbringer, I carved my way through the waves of monsters and pressed on.

The pouring rain was no impediment to the fiery explosions of the Flame of Tuesday, which vaporized the rainwater into steam and obscured the pursuers' view.

In a way, things were working to my advantage.

Instead of focusing on killing the monsters, I concentrated on leaping over and past them to push deeper.

The situation was nothing short of a chaotic mess.

The disappearance of the Immortals had been hard to accept, but I understood what it meant. I knew what would happen the moment they reappeared.

The Immortals had returned, and now they were hunting me. If they succeeded in killing me, they would then seek out Olivia, Harriet, Riana, and the Vampire Lords. This was the beginning of their hunt, and my death was only the first one they sought.

As their primary target, I knew they would prioritize eliminating me before moving on to the others, picking them off one by one. Therefore, I couldn't afford to die.

Oddly enough, it wasn't entirely a bad situation.

Kwoooar!

"Hup!"

Thud!

The Immortals were on my trail, and I had no choice but to keep pushing forward.

The Immortals, determined to end me, were cutting through the hordes of monsters as they kept up their pursuit.

Monsters loomed ahead of me, while the Immortals were closing in from behind. Yet I found myself doing the unthinkable—running straight into the enemy's camp.

Was this what the old scholars meant by pitting one enemy against another? Or was it more of a daring escape?

I didn't need to worry about attacking; I just leaped over, stepped on, and kicked away the monsters in front of me, pushing forward relentlessly.

The Immortals would take care of the rest.

"I'm here, you bastards!" I yelled, holding up the Flame of Tuesday and brandishing Tiamata, which shone with holy light.

I hoped even the Immortals who hadn't noticed me would turn their attention my way.

In the meantime, I used flames to evaporate the puddles on the ground, obscuring their view.

Was I acting as a decoy? Either way, it was a win if the monsters were defeated or the Immortals were thrown off, as long as I didn't get caught. If I got caught, I would quickly find myself surrounded by thousands of Immortal Swordmasters, and there was no way I could survive that.

Even as I ran, I had to glance back to see how close my pursuers were while leaping over the monsters that tried to tear me apart.

I had witnessed plenty of terrifying sights in my life, and since the Gate Incident, I had faced countless horrific scenes. There were many monsters whose mere appearance was enough to instill horror. But I had never felt fear as intensely as I did at that moment.

"This is crazy...”

The fierce downpour and the waves of monsters were not enough to stop them.

Thousands of Master-class warriors, clad in blue Aura Armor and wielding various weapons with Aura Blades like spears, axes, and swords, were all chasing me. Some were cutting down monsters to clear a path, while others were leaping over them just like I was.

Master-class warriors were beings who had reached the pinnacle of superhuman abilities. And thousands of them were chasing me at a terrifying speed, intent on ending my life.

They were charging through hordes of creatures that were monstrous in appearance, with horrifying auras. Yet, those fearsome beasts were being decimated like mere animals. No, they weren't just being slaughtered—they were being crushed and pulverized as the Master-class warriors continued their pursuit of me, covering tens of meters with each leap.

And it wasn't just a handful or even hundreds; there were thousands of them.

Kwooooar!

The bodies of monsters were being torn into pieces, not from any weapon, but from the sheer force of the shockwaves created as the Aura Armor surrounding the Master-class warriors collided with them.

A massive force of destruction was closing in on me, and there was no way to confront it head-on.

And so I ran.

I had to keep going. I had to survive.

But unfortunately...

Screeeech...!

Clang!

"Ugh...!”

The army of Immortals were not just made up of swordsmen, but also contained a vast number of archmages skilled in long-range attacks who were unleashing powerful magic along my path. Their aim was simple: to eliminate the monsters, and me along with them. It would be a win-win for them.

The rain obscured their vision, making it difficult for them to pinpoint my exact location, so they had resorted to indiscriminately bombarding the area with large-scale destructive spells.

Ice spears, lightning strikes, and sudden explosions filled the air.

Then...

Splash!

"Damn it...!"

The ground beneath me transformed into a swamp.

Thousands of Swordmasters were on my heels, and archmages were blindly unleashing their destructive magic in my direction, indifferent to whether their comrades were caught in the chaos.

Squelch... Glurp...!

"Ugh...!”

I grabbed the horn of a monster sinking into the mire, pulled myself up, and pressed onward, stepping over the creatures floundering in the muck.

This situation might actually have been good for me.

"Damn it!"

But my pursuers were relentless, leaping over the bodies of the other Immortals who were sinking into the swamp and keeping up their charge. Even those who were trapped managed to fight their way free.

If any of them reached me, it would be over.

The Immortals were more terrifying than the monsters.

Boom!

"Ugh...!"

Destructive magic rained down on me. The magic that struck me would have killed an ordinary person a hundred times over. Fortunately, my Aura Armor and anti-magic shield absorbed the impact, preventing it from being a fatal blow.

I couldn't decide if those casting such powerful spells were insane, or if I was the crazy one for surviving them.

I ran.

The magic was slowing me down. At this rate, I feared the Immortals would catch me.

Kwooooar!

A primal roar ripped through the sky amidst an eruption of flames and lightning, creating a barrier between me and the Immortals.

Bang!!

A massive figure landed in front of me with the force of a giant plane crash landing.

I could clearly see the golden light shimmering across the giant form.

"Reinhart! Get on!"

Olivia, perched on the dragon, was beckoning to me.

Had she come to rescue me? And what was this dragon?

I was too overwhelmed to make sense of the chaos on the battlefield. But one thing was clear: Olivia had arrived on a dragon to save me.

Yet, I had already decided on my response.

"No! Go!" I cried.

"What?!" she replied.

"Go quickly! I have to stay here!"

My task was to lure the Immortals in and destroy Diane. If I fled, the Immortals would turn their wrath against the others.

In fact, they might already be attacking them.

I couldn't ignore my role as bait. The more I risked, the sooner this war would end. So I had to stay. If I hesitated any longer, the Immortals would target not just me, but Olivia too, and we would both perish.

I had to take the risk on my own.

"I said go! Quickly!" I shouted.

At my words, Olivia finally stopped hesitating.

"Ugh...! You idiot...!" she yelled, gritting her teeth. "Don't die, you fool!"

With a deafening roar, the dragon that had appeared before me leaped fiercely and soared back into the stormy sky.

Everyone was undoubtedly giving more than they had to, so just like them, I had to push myself beyond my limits.

In the wake of the lightning and flames, I found myself running once more.

I was leading the Immortals away, drawing them toward Diane, the heart of this battlefield.