I Became the Martial God's Youngest Disciple-Chapter 183

There were two staircases in Building 12. The two passages leading to the lower floors had become the last crucial line of defense that had yet to be breached.

Barter and the Special Forces members guarded the west staircase, while the hero disciples and a handful of capable students held the east.

Hector, who effectively commanded the defense on the east side, was feeling his limits creeping in.

"How long are these bastards going to keep coming?"

"Were there really this many dolls in the academy?"

"The dean is a puppeteer, you idiot!"

"What? You're accusing Dean Alderson of collecting these dolls?"

"These kinds of dolls? How dare you insult stuffed toys like that!"

"Die! Die! Damn it, I'm sick of these dolls!"

Hector had reached his breaking point long ago. The vulgar curses and frantic ramblings weren't just from the students but even from the hero disciples. Their minds were unraveling. Under normal circumstances, Hector would have frowned at such language immediately.

"Sir Hector! How is the situation now?"

Shit, why ask this? The answer is obvious—we were screwed. He bit down on the answer he wanted to give. As a proud member of the Badniker family, he would never say anything that would tarnish its name, no matter the situation.

"To be honest, it isn't good! But we just have to hold on a bit longer! The enemy's offense has weakened a lot!" Hector lied.

The enemy's assault had not faltered since the start. If he graphed their attack momentum, it would form a smooth, steady curve like a calm sea.

Hector couldn't help feeling that this fact was eerie. Only a doll army could maintain such unwavering consistency.

"I understand! Did you hear that, you bastards? Give it your all! Squeeze out every last drop of strength!" shouted the exceptionally foul-mouthed knight student.

He was strong enough that he didn't need to aspire to be a hero. His mental fortitude was remarkable as well. Hector was sure he had heard the student's name before, but it escaped him now.

Still, this student has reached his limit. In fact, it wasn't just these students. Hector felt his own body growing numb.

It was natural. Hector stood at the frontline, facing the greatest number of dolls. The rigorous training he'd endured was keeping him upright. He knew from experience that the human body was surprisingly resilient. Even when it felt impossible to move, it was still possible to push a little further.

Of course, he was clearly beyond his limits and would face agonizing muscle pain the next day. Nonetheless, he considered that better than dying.

Hold on, I just have to hold on. Hector didn't know how long they had been holding out, but he felt sure the raid team would succeed.

That certainty remained even though their opponent was the demon king. It was a trust that surprised even himself.

He had no complaints about being left out of the raid team. It felt strange, though. When had such deep trust developed for his youngest brother, who was much younger and had only one blessing?

He didn't know, and he thought it would be shameful to trace back the origins of that trust. Only one thing mattered: Hector believed in Luan.

Kyaaaack!

The shrieks of the dolls no longer startled him.

Have I adapted? Hector wondered as he mechanically swung his sword.

The staircase measured about five meters wide—a standard width, neither too narrow nor too broad. So why did it feel so vast now?

Nevertheless, it is worth it. That width allowed a well-planned strategy and timely switches to let even a dozen people hold off hundreds of enemies..

It was the same now. Four people guarded that narrow space, fending off dozens of attacking dolls. If they kept this up, they could last another hour or two.

Naturally, there was no guarantee Luan would defeat the demon king by then.

"Mooooooooom!"

At that moment, a scream burst from the rear, so loud that Hector's attention snapped to it.

In the end, this turned out to be the right choice. The students of the academy had no resistance to the miasma. Now, one particularly large student was running toward him, tears streaming down his face.

"Mom! Mom! Wait! Let's go together! Mom!"

Hector genuinely wished to see the face of that student's mother.

"Are you going to leave again? Are you going to leave me alone? Mom, why are you dead?!"

Scratch that.

"What are you doing? Stop him!" Butterfly shouted from beside Hector.

Though Butterfly's voice was thin and almost feminine, Hector agreed with his command. The student was in the academy's highest year and clearly did not neglect physical training. His sturdy body sharply contrasted with his fragile mind.

Two hero disciples, Zeros and Charis, clung to him but failed to stop his rampage. Instead, he kept running with both clinging to his body.

"This guy is a beastfolk!" Charis cried out in bewilderment.

Beastfolk... This brawny physique makes sense. Hector bit his lip and made a quick decision. "Butterfly Goodspring!"

"What is it?"

"You can stop him, can't you?"

Butterfly shuddered. "I can stop him, but if I leave here—"

"I'll cover you!"

"What?"

"Go quickly! If he breaks through, the whole defense line will collapse!"

Butterfly hesitated, then obeyed.

Hector was the commander of the eastern staircase. At first, Butterfly could not accept it, but as the situation worsened, he had no choice but to admit the truth. Hector possessed the qualities of a great general. He read the shifting battlefield with sharp clarity and issued precise orders. In this dire moment, he even displayed the calm courage to risk his life, balancing it like a weight on the scales. Despite his youth, his talent as a commander shone through.

"Uwaaaaaah!"

Butterfly braced himself against the charge of the beastfolk student. It was just a student—a child compared to Butterfly, who carried blessings and was known as the genius of the Goodspring family.

Shit!

This was the case when Butterfly was at his peak. Now, after nearly five hours of fighting, his body teetered on exhaustion. His focus was slipping, and his strength was draining fast.

The student, though emotionally unstable, hadn't taken the same kind of beating. His body remained intact.

"Stop! Stop! You boar bastard!" Butterfly snarled.

It became obvious why mercenaries swore so much. They spent every day on battlefields where death loomed. Filthy language came naturally..

Butterfly summoned every last ounce of strength, feeling like his toes would snap. His face flushed red as he barely halted the beastfolk student's advance. Then he struck a fierce blow to the solar plexus. The student crumpled under the emotionally charged blow.

There was no time to confirm if the student had lost consciousness. Butterfly turned quickly. Hector still held his ground, but two severe wounds marked his body—a tattered left ear and a twisted right knee. His trembling frame looked on the verge of collapse.

Butterfly tried to get back to the line of defense as soon as possible.

"Awaaaaah!"

"I'm going home! Send me home! I want to go home!"

Unfortunately, he couldn't do so. The students started to go on a rampage simultaneously. It was like a chain reaction.

The beastfolk was likely the trigger. The other students weren't as large or powerful, but there were too many of them. This staircase had most of the student body assigned to it. The hero disciples were only a small fraction.

"Damn!" Butterfly had no choice but to hold the students back, unable to rejoin the line. If I stop the students, the dolls will break through. If I stop the dolls, the students will go berserk and shatter the front.

Either way, destruction was inevitable.

What should I do? Hector thought, pain gripping him.

Should he take the uninjured and flee to the fourth floor? That was nearly impossible now. It would have worked when only one or two students had lost control, but the number of rampaging students had already reached several dozen—and more were unraveling by the second.

I made the wrong decision. He had kept the students close to monitor them. He shouldn't have done that. All the students showing signs of distress should have been evacuated early and locked in a room on the fourth floor.

He had been reluctant to do so since it was inhumane treatment. He shouldn't have done that. His half-baked sympathy only made things worse.

Is this the end? The thought he dreaded most slipped into his mind.

"Fo—cus!" A thunderous voice exploded through the air.

It seemed to shake the vast hallways of Building 12, now sprawling in size. If the sound echoed through the east staircase, it had definitely reached the west staircase on the other side.

Whose voice is this? Hector did not recognize it at first. Even Marco, stationed on the west staircase and most familiar with the prince's voice, was slow to register it.

The Third Prince? No way. Someone who rarely raised his voice, even in fury, was now shouting with the intensity of a lion's roar? There was no way a weak person like Glenn could scream like that.

"Wake up!"

No. It couldn't be.

Others could doubt, but Marco knew he had not misheard. He turned his head and saw the imperial prince. His fiery hair and blazing eyes were unmistakable evidence of his noble lineage.

"I, the Third Prince, am speaking to all surviving students! Even if you cannot help, do not become a burden!"

The wind did not blow, yet Glenn's words roared fiercely. His eyes gleamed as if holding twilight itself. His entire body seemed wreathed in red flames.

"I know this demand is harsh! Resisting the demon king's madness requires more patience than enduring torture!

"But I believe in you! Not just as individuals, but as fellow students who shared the same halls and the same lessons!

"Students of Cartel Academy! Remember! Was your education in vain? Are these the fruits of our revered instructors' teachings? Can the vile whispers and madness of these demons strip away our dignity as humans? Are you nothing more than beasts?"

His voice cracked. He had not spoken aloud for a long time, and his throat burned from the effort.

Glenn coughed several times before shouting again, "No, that isn't the case! Maintain your dignity! Awaken your intelligence! Do not surrender to madness! If madness is easy and sanity difficult, then we must choose the latter! That will be the greatest Fuck you we can give to the deceiving demons—!"

His voice cut off abruptly.

Glenn collapsed, overwhelmed by exhaustion. His fiery red hair and blazing eyes dimmed. Though his speech had been brief, he felt drained as if he had just sprinted a great distance.

Silence briefly settled over the corridor. The roars of the demon dolls and the sounds of battle persisted as people struggled to hold them back. Yet, all who remained alive shared the same feeling.

A quiet hush and the faint warmth of a sudden breeze swept through the space. Then, a miraculous change took place.

"Huh...?"

"What is this?"

A dim light returned to the eyes of those worn down by madness.

That was not all.

"Uwaaaah—!"

"My strength is soaring!"

"You weak cotton bastards!"

The hero disciples, long pushed beyond their limits, felt fresh vitality surge through their bodies.

Hector and Barter, scions of the empire's most prestigious Great Families, understood the cause and shuddered. This is the emperor's bloodline. Is this the famed Resonance of the imperial family?

The noblest bloodline among the Great Families, the only force in the world capable of amplifying the power of blessings, manifested itself now in the young prince's voice.

"That's right! I need to help!"

"Damn it. What nonsense was I spouting earlier?"

"Mom's gone now...!"

"Help the hero disciples! Don't let the demon bastards advance any further!"

Glenn's voice cut through the demons' whispers and drove away madness. He also shared his innate aptitude with ordinary people. This power belonged solely to the emperor's blood.

Marco started shedding tears. He had believed this day would come. The boy who hated the imperial family, who doubted their existence, and who never fit in with anyone his age had always cared for the weak. He moved through the slums like it was his home, never hesitating to reach out. He ignored the beautiful nobles but met the eyes of an old man devastated by plague without hesitation.

That boy, who naturally became the king of the slums, would one day become emperor of the empire. Marco had believed in him all along.

"Let's fight!'

"Uwaaaaaah!"

The hero disciples were revitalized, and the mad students snapped out of frenzy. For the first time, the battered defense line pushed forward. To their surprise, the dolls charging from the stairs were pushed back instead.

We can hold on!

At this rate, it is enough!

Hector and Barter's thoughts grew hopeful.

That hope lasted until one student looked out the window. The thick book he had raised as a weapon slipped from his trembling hands with a heavy thud.

"Hey, what the hell? What's wrong with you?"

"T-that..." His shaking fingers pointed toward the window, and all the students followed his gaze.

Hundreds of armored soldiers hovered outside, modeled after the legendary White Knights. They appeared not as saviors, but as harbingers of death.

One of the armored soldiers took a stance.

Those with sharp eyes recognized it as a sword-fighting posture.

The moment a crimson cloak fluttered, the windows and walls shattered.