Until today, Constanz had lived in guilt just to survive. If possessing power meant hurting someone he had never met before, he would rather have his hands chopped off. Yet, if his right hand did not slowly reach for the small knife lying on the ground, he would still feel guilty for the rest of his life - all because the fire ignited by the maiden in his heart was the most beautiful and fearsome thing he had ever experienced in his brief life.
Bontradh let out a loud cry and thrust his sword forward. The tongue of fire that shot out from the small knife pierced through his chest, and the sword handle slipped from his fingers. He fell back, with his two hands contorted in a fierce and charred chest emitting a strong and unpleasant smoke. He was almost instantly killed, with his wide-opened eyes still showing an incredulous expression.
Everyone, including Constanz himself, looked at the knife in his hand. It was as if it had just been pulled out of a forge, with the red light not completely fading from the blade and still emitting hot steam.
The huge power gathered in the short blade made them forget the horror of death. They surrounded the one who held the flame like a pack of wolves. Constanz stood up, holding the knife up high, attracting everyone's attention while preventing them from entering the firelight.
A thief with a pointed chin took a timid step forward and reached out his filthy fingers towards Constanz when he wasn't looking, but as soon as he touched the young man, a tongue of fire shot out from the short sword and swallowed him up.
He turned into a ball of fire and fell to the ground screaming. Although the flame was quickly extinguished, his furry palms had already charred and stuck to his peeling face, making his voice sound creepy and indistinct.
His companions were at a loss and gathered around him, helpless in the face of his serious injuries, while also trembling and begging for Constanz's forgiveness.
"Borg..."
The boy called out the injured's name and was about to move forward, but it was as if he had hit a burning wall and stopped in his tracks. He looked at the short knife in his hand, which was almost too hot to hold, and then at the men kneeling in front of him, begging for mercy. He saw the illusion again: the shadows of the men rushed forward and snatched the divine fire from his hands, which had been pierced and torn open like a broken red wine bag.
The boy who held the flame, Constanz, heard a faint call carried by the breeze, clear as a wind chime. He could not have misheard it, and turned to look at the maiden who was lying on the ground. She had already spit out the weeds and soil, her lips were pale but not trembling.
The boy walked towards the maiden and knelt beside her, listening carefully to her command.
"Take me to the injured one."
Consequently, Constanz set aside all of his plunder and lifted the light and soft body from her shoulders and lap. The purple toga slipped down the milky skin, revealing a torso as white as marble. Among the bandits who made way, the virgin regained some strength and was able to kneel and cover the convulsing hand of the wounded with both of hers.
As warm words spilled from the virgin's mouth, Borg's breathing gradually calmed down. Finally, his kicking legs returned to calm, and his simple face no longer twisted with pain. The virgin crossed his hands over his chest and sat quietly, meditating with her hands resting on her knees. The men prostrated themselves on the ground, ashamed and weeping at the ugly sins they had committed.
Holding the divine fire, the true virgin, unquestionable and unbreakable, was so terrifying that it inspired fear. Yet this fear was the only fear in the world that could be comforted.
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The virgin lifted her face with compassion and turned to the bewildered young man with the fire. Only now did she have the opportunity to measure the young fire bearer's youthful face, growing body, and upright yet confused mind with her olive-green eyes under the sunlight. After a hundred years, fate brought this fire bearer to her.
She looked at Constanz' bare shoulders and felt sorry for him because of the weight of destiny upon him. She lowered her golden eyelashes, bowed her olive wreath crown, half-knelt on the ground, and picked up the tattered fire lion flag and draped it over the young man's shoulders.
The news of the Ninth Legion's annihilation spread like the west wind throughout the shattered territories of the Empire. Bandits, poets, adventurers, defeated generals, runaway slaves, and landless farmers all embarked on a journey to find the lost divine fire of the legion. Many of them were swallowed up by the treacherous journey, but the few who were destined had the good fortune to witness the procession of demons appearing in the mist at the end of their journey.
They were terrified and fell to the ground, but as the demons gradually dissipated the thick fog and approached, the ominous aura shrouding their strange and grotesque armor gradually disappeared. The people of Etna, Flamma, Margolita, and Mantikhor united under the crimson lion banner, while the commander clad in iron armor and the virgin in silver armor rode at the front of the formation.
Just as everyone was about to forget the missing legion, and the Regent Virgins were throwing themselves into the divine fire, hundreds of years later, the virgin Sandra and the fire bearer Constanz led the resurrected Ninth Legion back to the shattered world of Nirvana.
The news of the defeated army not only brought this message, but also brought Constanz's message: what he wanted was not to revive the Empire, but the divine fire - scattered among the eight legions. This news naturally spread to the ears of other legions the fastest, and their response was unsurprisingly as cold as the ice and snow on the Sawtooth Crown, and as fiery as the Anganar volcano.
It was not surprising that the legions, who were once like siblings, were so angry that they all pointed their swords at the Ninth Legion. They scattered in all directions and stationed themselves in the barbarous borderlands that the citizens of Etna would rather not venture into, serving the survival of the Empire for hundreds of years, even burning Regent Virgins, captured slave girls and even common women to gain a glimmer of hope… yet they had to face the provocation of an imposter. But this is often just a nice reason, and the command of many legions has been usurped, and the so-called flat-bellied saviors are mostly usurpers with the people's fat and oil still on their lips.
They will soon realize how big a mistake it was to underestimate Constanz and his Ninth Legion. When the news of the Ninth Legion's southward march reached the First "Purple Guard" Legion stationed in the capital, they marched north to meet them, and the two armies met above the towering Wolf Howl Pass. Contrary to the expectations of the Imperial Guards, the two armies confronted each other, but there was no flame blessing on Constanz's rag-tag army, only the ashes of a volcano.
The Imperial Guards were overjoyed and launched a reckless charge. Under the attack, the newly resurrected Ninth Legion suffered heavy casualties, but they persisted and reversed the situation with a methodical counterattack. In the end, the battle ended with the complete annihilation of the empire's face and its finest First "Purple Guard" Legion, and the divine fire was taken.
A small number of impoverished people remained inside the city of Etna, having lost their former noble demeanor, tightly closing their windows and praying, waiting for the conquerors to invade and the imperial city to fall, as well as the inevitable sacrifice, sacrifice, and the great fire that could burn down the entire city. Virgins danced in the streets, exposing their bodies, having sex like beasts, consuming excrement and blood, tarnishing the last trace of purity passed down from their ancestors, in order to avoid becoming fuel for the God's Fire.
However, no matter how much they did, the expected events did not happen. Unlike the previous usurpers, the Ninth Legion did not enter the city and only retreated to Graywood. The end of the Empire was not due to destruction but abandonment.
There were some differences in Constanz's rule. Although he was indifferent to the suffering of his subjects, and his obsession with God's Fire was widely known, he did not capture virgins everywhere like his colleagues did in the name of the Empire, nor did he use God's Fire in battles unless forced to. And with a force stronger than fire - a desire for fire - this gray miscellaneous army managed to defeat the fire-emitting troops one after another.
Soon, in contrast to the slow death of the Empire, the Ninth Legion found no opponents in most of the Nirvana south of the Anganar volcano and the Fenwick ice sea. Hostile legions had either been defeated by them, or were terrified of their reputation, disintegrating in the dark corners where there had been no traces even in the most glorious days of the Empire.