The Martial God: Demonic Cultivator in a World of Magic [Isekai LitRPG]

 

Sir Rashid al-Faris, captain of the 1st Knight Order, urged his horse to greater speed, the powerful beast straining under the relentless pace. The hooves pounded the earth like war drums, the rhythm mirrored by the rapid heartbeat in his chest. Behind him, knights of his 1st Knight Order, along with the entire fleet of the 2nd and 3rd Knight Orders, followed in tight formation.

Any city lord would piss their pants off if they saw this disciplined force bearing down on their city. Fortunately, Lockdarn city lord had long since fled.

Sir Rashid’s combat-hardened eyes narrowed as the edge of Lockdarn came into view. What had once been a thriving city, one of the bigger Baron cities despite being located in the wild, was now reduced to a smoldering ruin. The rising sun cast long, ominous shadows over the desolate landscape, highlighting the devastation that had taken place.

A deep scowl marred Sir Rashid’s face. His mind raced with questions, anger bubbling beneath the surface. His lord had received the message from the Romani heir, the young master, less than a day ago, and the urgency in the boy’s words had spurred three Knight Orders into action. He was unsure if the young master was serious, he had always been the trash of the count family, after all. It was Sir Rashid who took him home, after he had passed out in the street, drunk, a few weeks ago. So he hadn’t taken his letter seriously. He only came because his lord ordered him to.

But now, as they approached the city, he could see that the warning had not been exaggerated.

The city was split in two. 

Literally. A massive gash ran through its heart as if a god had struck it with a divine blade. Buildings that had stood for centuries were now piles of rubble, streets that had once been filled with life were deserted, and the silence oppressive.

Sir Rashid clenched his jaw, forcing down the surge of emotions. He’d feel terrible if the young master was harmed, all the time he had assumed this was a prank. But not right now, there was no time for that. He needed to lead his men through whatever hell awaited within those broken walls.

He pulled back on the reins, slowing his horse as they neared the city gates—or what was left of them. “God have mercy.”

Sir Arion, his second-in-command, approached him on horseback. His face was pale but he kept a hard expression. "Sir, what is your opinion on what transpired here?" he inquired in a tone of respect.

Rashid’s eyes scanned the scene before him, taking in every detail. “Beats me,” he said, his voice roughened by the sight before him. “We need to find the young master. Since he sent the letter, he must know more about what happened here.”

The second-in-command nodded, though the doubt in his eyes remained. “If he’s still alive…”

“He is.” Rashid cut him off, his tone leaving no room for argument. The young master might be injured, but he’d live. “If there’s one thing I know about the Romani, it’s that they don’t die easy. Trust me.” He had served his old master, Sikandar of Erebia, for years until that bear of a man set him to look after his son, Count Romani.

The knight nodded again, more firmly this time, as they pushed forward into the city. The sound of hooves clattering against broken stone echoed eerily through the deserted streets. Their senses were on high alert, it felt like they were riding inside an ongoing warfield. Enemies might still be around, after all. They’d usually do a secret search first, but they didn’t have that luxury when a minute could end up saving the young master’s life. 

As the knights pressed forward, every shadow concealed a potential threat, and their hands hovered near their weapons at the slightest flicker of movement. 

The scale of the devastation became even more apparent as they advanced deeper into the ruins. The city was torn asunder by a gaping canyon, indiscriminately rending through homes, businesses, and lives. Although thankfully no human lives. The atmosphere was heavy with the stench of smoke and charred wood, mingling with something more ominous – the scent of blood.

At long last, Rashid noticed motion in the distance—a small cluster of figures gathered near what was left of the Baron's mansion. He gestured to his men to stop, lifting his hand. With practiced skill, they complied, their arrangement becoming tighter as they readied themselves for whatever lay ahead.

"...Remain vigilant," Rashid commanded, which grabbed his men's attention. He urged his horse forward, leading the way toward the cluster.

As he neared, his eyes slowly narrowed. At the center of the group stood a young man, his clothes torn and bloodied, yet he seemed woundless. He had been healed, and there was a strength in his posture that a sick person shouldn’t have.

Around him were two women—one in the robes of a scholar, the other in the attire of a maid, though the latter’s wolfish features and the power emanating from her marked her as anything but a mere housemaid. Although, if he were to be specific about the power department, the scholar would be the strongest. She might even be stronger than him, though he couldn’t be sure.

Rashid’s gaze locked onto the young man as they neared. He could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the weight of the battle that had clearly taken its toll. But there was something else there too, something deeper. Strength. Sir Rashid was bewildered.

He had never seen the young master like that.

He dismounted, the ground crunching under his boots as he approached ahead. "Young Master Romani," he greeted, his voice gruff but respectful. He was relieved the young man was alive. "We received your message and came as swiftly as possible, but it appears we are tardy. Just… what happened here?"

The young man looked up, locking eyes with Rashid with a weary yet unwavering gaze. Sir Rashid was a little taken aback by that, the young master never dared to look him in the eye, let alone with that kind of look.

"A war, Sir Rashid," he said, his voice grim. "A war unlike any other."

****

I informed Sir Rashid of everything essential—more precisely, everything I wanted him to know. The narrative I created was not complicated, very direct, and as accurate as I could make. 

I retold the conflict between the Moon Wolf Tribe and the Obsidian Vampires, the clash of power that had devastated Lockdarn like a storm, and everything else. However, when it came to the ultimate, decisive strike that had ended the Vampiric Father, I left out my name. I wasn't ready to draw that kind of attention. Not yet.

Instead, I gave the credit to Amelia and the Matriarch. After all, they were the ones everyone saw in the thick of the fight. The Romani Trainee Knights, who were spread around the city back then had seen the dragon, and later the wolf, clashing with the Vampiric Father in the sky. So the story was easily bought. It was easy for them to believe that together, they had brought down the monster. 

It kept the focus off me and allowed me to remain in the shadows; I had to play safe.

While mulling over the events in my head, I noticed the tent flap nearby moving, which caught my attention. Amelia came out, with her face partly concealed by the shadow of the stable's roof. The light outside was getting brighter, with the dawn fully breaking over the ruins of Lockdarn. 

She approached me, appearing thoughtful, and the serious expression that she wore while talking to Sir Rashid in the tent was slowly replaced with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. 

I adjusted my position against the wooden beam as she walked closer. The stable was eerily quiet, as the horses had been moved out earlier, leaving only the distant murmurs of the knights and the occasional crackle of smoldering ruins. Unlike the thousands of humans in the city who perished last night, the horses were fortunate to escape without any casualties.

Amelia reached me and sat down on a small hay bale, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from her. “You’re pretty good at telling stories,” she remarked in a light tone. “The knights ate it all up. You’ve got them wrapped around your finger.”

I scoffed, running a hand through my hair. “Uh, well, I didn't really lie,” I said, giving her half a smile. “Not a complete lie, anyway. You and the Matriarch did most of the heavy lifting. I just withheld information.”

“Please. Same thing,” she shook her head. Then she turned her head back, looking at the titanic sword strike that had embraced the city. “That Knight asked who did this. I almost answered truthfully just to see his reaction.”

“Hey.”

She giggled, “I didn’t, in the end. I said it was the Vampiric Father’s work. They bought it.”

I let out a sigh of relief, shooting her a look. She was so playful that I couldn't trust her to not blow my cover accidentally. Although to be truthful, I was surprised that she was supporting me at all. From her perspective, I was some kind of demon.

"Hmm," Amelia hummed. She leaned forward, her sharp eyes fixed on mine. "But we both know you are keeping something back. You don't have to tell me—I won't pry—but you should be cautious, Iskandaar.. There’s more at play here than just surviving battles. You’re going to make enemies, powerful ones, and they won’t be as easily fooled as the knights.”

I nodded, appreciating her concern. “I know. So I’d rather keep a low profile while I can.”

The Obsidian Vampires were alive. While Amelia and the Moon Wolf Tribe wouldn't leak my name, the Vampires would. If not now, then later. My secret wasn't safe with them. Sooner or later, they would blow my cover to the entire world.

I wonder what I'd do then. Troublesome times were coming.

Amelia sighed, leaning back and crossing her arms. “You’re already attracting attention, whether you like it or not. This little trick you pulled today… it won’t go unnoticed. How does a man who's been mana-less until recently survive such a war, while so many other men died?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” I said, shrugging. “For now, I need to focus on what’s next. At least the Academy is going to be peaceful.”

Her lips curled into a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You have no idea,” she replied, her voice tinged with a mix of excitement and caution. “The academy is full of people just as ambitious and dangerous as those you’ve faced here. Sure, there's no mythical creature, the 9th Ascension Demigod, but there are princes and princesses of nations who would want your head severed if you offend them. It's a different kind of battlefield. But it’s also a place of opportunity.”

We sat in silence for a moment, both lost in thought. The quiet was comfortable, a brief respite from the chaos of the past few days. But I could feel the weight of what was to come pressing down on me, the uncertainty of the future stretching out like a dark road ahead.

Amelia disrupted the quiet by getting to her feet and brushing off her skirt. "I need to leave," she announced with a brighter tone. "I have to return to the academy and ensure that everything is set for when you arrive. It wouldn't be good for you to go in during chaos, would it?"

“Hey, there's still a year…”

“Seven months.”

“Same thing," I smiled, appreciating the gesture. "Are you already leaving?" I was just adjusting to having you around."

She laughed softly and shook her head. "Do not worry, you will see me soon enough. And, besides, Lilian will keep you company." She winked, prompting me to raise an eyebrow.

“Speaking of that girl, what did Sir Rashid say?” I was curious. It was obvious at first look that Lilian was a member of the Moon Wolf Tribe. Even if her group was reported to be a good group, they were still the ones who had taken over the Baron's mansion for months. And in that sense, they were the people who brought the Vampire's in Lockdarn.

“I vouched for her, so there shouldn't be any issues. Especially when I told him that the Matriarch granted you the Mark of Vargathrian, they immediately accepted Lilian’s presence.” She explained, making me tilt my head.

“What is that anyway? I'm curious.”

“No can do~ ask the Matriarch the next time you meet her, sweetie." She shook her head with a smile. "Don't worry, she'll come visit you someday now that her granddaughter is with you. She wants to ensure you're not taking advantage of that poor girl, after all."

"Hey-" 

Before I could respond, Amelia leaned down. She kissed me on the cheek, her lips soft against my skin as I paused. I blinked in surprise and she straightened up with a playful grin, hopping down her feet.

“...That should have been on the lips, if you were going to do it anyway,” I teased after a moment of surprise, trying to regain my composure as I rubbed the spot she had just kissed,

Amelia raised her brow, purple eyes sparkling at me. "Heh? No. Try better next time, and maybe you'll get your wish.”

"Better than defeating a demi-god?" I scoffed and shook my head, disbelieving. "Yeah, well…"

Amelia giggled in a light and melodic tone. She took a step back, her wings unfurling from her back, glowing faintly in the morning light. They were the same firefly wings she used last night and not her dragon wings. They were still broken.

Her smile wasn't, however. It was as bright as ever. “Then, Iskandaar… I'll see you at the academy next year.” 

Almost next year. With a final, playful smile, she turned away and took off into the air, her wings propelling her upward.

I watched her fly, the graceful figure rising higher and higher until she was just a dot in the sky. The warmth from her kiss lingered on my cheek. As I watched her fade away over the horizon, a smile spread across my face.

I reassured myself, "Safe travels, Amelia," as an odd calmness enveloped me.

Now that the sun had fully risen, the chilly, devastated town was warmed by the golden light that shone down on the ruins of Lockdarn. 

The day was only beginning, as was my life in this new world.