The Heavenly Demon Can’t Live A Normal Life [EN]: Chapter 347

Hernad. Once a proud city of white stone buildings and bustling markets, it was now a nightmare of fire and smoke.

Flames licked at the sky, turning the morning air black. The relentless attack had started with the first light of dawn, and now, hours later, the sturdy castle walls had finally given way.

*Boom!* A section of the wall crashed down in a shower of dust and stone.

*Rumble!* The ground shook as the attackers surged forward.

“The walls are broken!” someone yelled, voice cracking with fear and excitement.

“Attack! Forward!” came the answering cry.

Chaos exploded. Screams mixed with the clang of steel on steel. Buildings began to collapse, adding to the roaring fire. Hernad was no longer a city; it was a burning hell.

Hernad’s soldiers hastily blocked the path, but at the forefront of the rebellion was an unstoppable monster.

“Get out of the way!”

Thwack.

Crack.

The head of the first soldier he encountered shattered instantly.

The man, his coppery skin exposed and white beard fluttering, spun a halberd larger than himself, sweeping away any enemies who dared to stand in his path.

Even without using his full power, his halberd cut through soldiers and armor like paper.

“S-stop him!”

“Kill Duke Vieto!”

The man’s identity? It was Duke Vieto himself.

Though the wrinkles on his face betrayed his nearing seventy years, the fierce energy he exuded was no different from his prime. His eyes burned with determination.

An existence not listed in the Valhalla rankings, officially retired and thus excluded, he was once a 5-star swordsman, a formidable warrior who had ranked within the top 10.

Behind him, the rebel forces surged forward.

Hernad’s soldiers were not to be underestimated, but they were no match for the 200,000 rebels.

“Follow me!”

Duke Vieto took the lead. He and powerhouses like Valderas, ranked 10th in Valhalla, fearlessly paved the way.

A few days prior, they had made a decision.

“The Valhalla Emperor’s forces are gathering in Hernad. It’s only a fraction for now, but if more troops gather, the chances of taking Hernad will be slim. Now is the time. With Roman Dmitry’s position still undecided, the Valhalla Imperial Family likely believes the rebels alone cannot launch a full-scale attack. Therefore, a bold decision now could lead to the capture of Hernad.”

It was a well-reasoned judgment.

Having heard the plans through Roman Dmitry, Duke Vieto had amassed his forces in advance and launched a surprise attack.

He didn’t entirely trust Roman Dmitry yet, but he knew that in plotting a rebellion, even the slightest chance was worth gambling on.

Enemies swarmed in.

Duke Vieto charged wildly, unleashing his aura and sweeping away the enemies.

Boom!

Rumble!

“Kraaah!”

“Aargh!”

Screams erupted from all directions. Dozens of soldiers were butchered in an instant.

Here, Hernad had no high-ranking warriors.

They had gathered the Emperor’s soldiers and prepared a defense, but the Valhalla leaders, including Marquis Belphir, had not anticipated Duke Vieto’s reckless attack.

It wasn’t just that they were too relaxed. They truly believed the rebels would not dare to attack directly because they seemed too weak.

For that reason, they were caught off guard.

Hernad’s forces were not weak, but they could not stop the rebels who were charging in with their lives on the line.

In the end, the gates were completely breached.

A massacre ensued, and Duke Vieto, fighting at the very front, discovered Hernad’s commander.

And then.

Crack.

He crushed his head.

With blood splattering everywhere, Duke Vieto roared in a beastly voice.

“I have killed the enemy commander! As fellow Valhallans, I will spare the lives of those who surrender!”

The fierce siege marked the end of the battle.

Hernad was also a world where ordinary people lived.

People flocked to the streets. Instead of being frightened by the fall of the castle, they poured into the streets to witness the rebels.

In that situation, Duke Vieto walked out like a triumphant general, raising his voice to the people.

“People of Valhalla, listen! Valhalla has always been a nation of warriors. We have proudly upheld the tradition of solving problems fairly with strength and purely competing in prowess. But what is Valhalla like now?”

As Marquis Belphir had predicted, public sentiment was crucial.

Having won the battle, he had to capture the hearts of the people watching the rebels’ actions.

“Traitors who cry for progress have destroyed Valhalla’s legitimacy. Colluding with Chronos, they have shown themselves to be blinded by dirty power. An example of this is what happened at the Valhalla festival. Roman Dmitry expressed his intention to attend to grace the glorious event, but how did Valhalla treat him? They showed him no respect. They wanted him dead. They did not consider the festival stage sacred, but used it as an execution ground to dispose of Roman Dmitry.”

“Dirty traitors!”

“That was unfair!”

Some raised their voices.

Not everyone agreed with the rebels yet, but many people in the crowd looked at Duke Vieto with hope in their eyes.

“Roman Dmitry was victorious. As a true warrior, he triumphantly shattered the intentions of the dirty traitors by achieving victory. Yet, the Valhalla Imperial Family tried to kill Roman Dmitry by mobilizing the Chronos Empire. Since when has Valhalla become so corrupt? If they wanted to dispose of Roman Dmitry, they should have defeated him fairly on the stage with strength, in the Valhallan way. That is the reality of Valhalla. So, I took up arms. I, Vieto, have made a decision because I can no longer watch Valhalla fall into corruption.”

Grip.

He gripped his halberd tightly.

He looked around at the people, then raised it high and shouted.

“Follow me! I, Vieto, will restore Valhalla’s glory!”

“Vieto! Vieto!”

“Vieto! Vieto!”

Some people were the first to raise their voices.

The intense longing spread like a plague, and everyone who came out into the streets began to shout Duke Vieto’s name.

This was public sentiment.

In a situation where he was outnumbered by the Emperor’s forces by more than tenfold, Duke Vieto decided to rebel, trusting only in the fact that public sentiment would support him.

Streets filled with enthusiastic cheers.

The rebels were certain that the desire to restore Valhalla’s foundation would return Valhalla to its original place.

The heavy wooden door creaked shut, sealing the rebel leaders inside the dimly lit room. Around a rough-hewn table, they gathered, their faces grim. Outside, they had smiled and waved to the people of Hernard, trying to look brave. But in the quiet of this room, the truth was clear: the situation was far from settled, and hope was a fragile thing.

Duke Vieto leaned forward, his voice low and urgent. “Tell me,” he said, “what is the situation?”

A messenger spoke, his voice grave. “The Valhalla Imperial Family has ordered a conscription. Some troops have been sent north, but a million soldiers are forming a subjugation army. They don’t care about the people’s feelings. They plan to crush the rebellion quickly.”

A million.

The word hung in the air, heavy and cold. A million soldiers. The rebels knew that Valhalla, despite its vast lands and the forces guarding the capital, had sent nearly every soldier they could.

It was devastating news.

Facing a million soldiers before the uprising had truly begun, the rebels knew Hernard’s walls couldn’t withstand such an attack.

Just then, Duke Vieto turned to Sanchez and asked, “Sanchez, do you truly believe Roman Dmitry’s plan will succeed?”

“Yes, I am certain,” Sanchez replied.

Sanchez was the core of the rebellion.

As the leader of this plan, his words carried considerable weight. “Roman Dmitry has declared the Valhalla Empire an enemy, as promised. The Valhalla Imperial Family has sent troops to the northern front because they are preparing for Roman Dmitry to attack. And thanks to our agitators, we have gained the people’s support easily.”

Duke Vieto’s voice rose, filled with passion. “Roman Dmitry’s people are here with us.”

In the crowd, some people with knowing looks exchanged quick nods – Roman Dmitry’s people, watching and waiting. The members of the Hoomoon were scattered throughout the continent, observing and occasionally offering words of support for Duke Vieto.

The Valhalla Emperor was a symbol of fear.

No matter how just Duke Vieto’s cause, the people of Valhalla were too afraid to speak out.

So, they stirred up the people.

They didn’t need to lie; they simply fanned the flames of desire already burning in the people’s hearts.

Duke Vieto had to admit it.

He had initially disliked the agitators’ involvement, but on Sanchez’s advice, he agreed that such strategic moves were necessary.

The result was impressive. He was newly impressed.

It was amazing to Duke Vieto. Roman Dmitry lived far away, but somehow he had people in Valhalla. Duke Vieto didn’t know when Dmitry had done this.

What was truly impressive was how carefully Roman Dmitry had planned everything. It was clear he had thought of every small thing.

Duke Vieto said, “For now, things are going as planned. But always remember, our own strength will win this rebellion. To reclaim Valhalla’s traditions, we must shed blood, fight, and win. Only then will our fight have meaning. Only then can we stand proudly before the people.”

“We understand.”

He had worried greatly before making the decision to rebel.

But now, gathered as rebels, they were ready to give their lives for Valhalla.

“Begin preparations to face the enemy here in Hernard,” Duke Vieto commanded.

“Understood.”

For now, their plan was simple: wait and defend. They would watch what happened and get ready to fight.

If Roman Dmitry’s other plans succeeded, the rebellion would truly ignite.

Count Gomes commanded the army sent to punish the rebels.

He was in command, and he listened as a subordinate reported on the situation in Hernard. “Hernard has fallen. Duke Vieto has taken the city and is trying to use it as a base.”

Count Gomes frowned, his eyebrows drawing together in a deep line above his nose. “Hernard has already fallen?”

He had been watching the rebels closely.

He had gathered troops in Hernard, but it wasn’t enough to stop Duke Vieto’s fierce advance.

Duke Vieto lived up to his reputation as a giant rock.

He was a strong presence, never moving rashly, but when he made a decision, he crushed everything in his path like a giant rock rolling downhill. It was with such boldness that he had risen to power, before stepping back when the Valhalla Emperor seized control.

He was not an easy man.

If they failed to stop him early, the rebellion would drag on and weaken the Valhalla Empire.

“We will focus all our efforts on a single, powerful attack,” Count Gomes declared. “Summon all of Valhalla’s top fighters except for Caesar. The only skilled opponent they have is Valderas. If we use overwhelming force and our best fighters, Duke Vieto won’t withstand our attack, no matter how prepared he is.”

“Understood.”

Caesar was Valhalla’s greatest swordsman, ranked number one.

He was responsible for defending the capital, so summoning everyone else was a significant move.

But then, a problem arose unexpectedly.

The subordinate returned, his face pale. “Count Gomes! A big problem! The top-ranked fighters have been summoned to a Decisive Battle!”

“…A Decisive Battle?!” Count Gomes exclaimed, his eyes wide.

Decisive Battle.

It was a unique Valhalla tradition used by top-ranked fighters. If a Decisive Battle was declared, the opponent couldn’t refuse.

Count Gomes was shocked not just because a Decisive Battle was happening.

The problem was that these battles usually ended with the death of one participant unless someone surrendered.

What madman would call for a Decisive Battle at such a critical time?

Count Gomes demanded, “Who is it?! Who would do such a thing?”

He couldn’t imagine who it could be.

Most of Valhalla’s top-ranked fighters supported the Emperor, and they had no reason to make such a decision, which would surely bring blame.

Besides, they were on the same side. Killing someone to move up one rank was pointless unless there was a personal grudge.

He felt dizzy.

The subordinate hesitated, then finally blurted out, “Ares. Ares, ranked 3rd, has declared a Decisive Battle against Alvarez, ranked 2nd.”

Ares.

At that name, Count Gomes’ expression hardened.