1009. Hey, you like fighting, don’t you?
A real star.
Rem swung his axe, grimacing as he brushed off the black blood. He might have shrugged it off if it were a trap set by an ordinary wizard.
But this was just a trap everywhere they went. After fighting their way through the Legion of Death, a swarm of flies approached. A
fairy named Trimache slashed and sliced them with a sword imbued with the essence of fire. Next to her, Esther summoned some kind of fire leopard to help.
Finally, Sinar projected a portion of a salamander’s power.
That was it. Every single one of the bugs blocking their path burned to death. At Sinar’s gesture, formless flames rose and vanished.
Encred, Rem, and Temares couldn’t just sit around doing nothing. They couldn’t simply watch while flies tried to lay eggs on their bodies.
Behind them came a horde of ghouls—creatures that kept crawling out of the ground no matter how many they killed.
Just when it seemed there was no end to it, Esther found and destroyed a spell core, stopping the rebirth.
It is a ghoul creation spell. It is a variation of the maxim spell.
How should I put it? In Esther’s eyes, she was a witch with a somewhat shabby side. That was the thought that came to mind watching her modify spells rather than create new ones, and toss around collected summons while doing all sorts of things. Should I call her a master of sloppy techniques?
The basics are summoning.
Needless to say, he would be skilled at using spells other than his specialties as well.
Once we meet, there is no difficulty in dealing with them.
If all of this were deception and trickery, I would call her a witch with great tactical talent, but the resource consumption of the spells cast was too great to be called mere lies and deception. Therefore, it means the witch we are currently looking for is blocking us with all her might.
Still, I suppose I have other means prepared.
Regardless of her thoughts, she transformed back into a leopard and ran. Wasn’t the constant delaying tactics increasing the variables for the enemy’s escape?
You really are something else.
Rem spoke and threw the throwing axe. The axe, flying as a disc, struck near the head of the shadow rising in front of him. It was the Shadow Giant, one of the spirit spells. He
had crushed it with sorcery before it could fully manifest. It was an axe imbued with the power of the Divine Being, the Sky Flyer. After all,
the Sky Flyer is a Divine Being who knows how to imbue his power into every throwing tool.
Squeak. The sound of old, rusty hinges sliding was the Shadow Giant’s death cry.
The abnormal shadow, which had been forming in a form that ignored light, crumbled away until the seeping light signaled that its life had come to an end. Rem ran straight ahead, pulled the axe stuck in the ground, and strapped it back to his waist.
“How many more of these do you think will come out?”
It was a question directed at Esther. Having transformed into a leopard, it was difficult for her to speak human language. She could transform back into a human, but it was a hassle.
The witch Esther now knew how to use her surroundings. Encred was not the only one who had learned Luagarne’s tactical thinking
. Esther focused her mind and looked at Temares. The dragon-man, possessing the ability to read minds, grasped the meaning and spoke, even though the words did not sound perfectly clear.
“Continue until we meet.”
Rem snorted at Yongin’s words.
So you want to give it a try?
Encred felt the same way. Blocking? Then he intended to see how long they would keep blocking. He had
no intention of losing out on persistence. It had been that way since he first wielded a sword. From his hometown, where he was hailed as a genius, he swung his club day and night.
It was so thrilling and fun that, in reality, he didn’t even know the concept of persistence back then. It was the same then as it is now.
How much more so.
That’s fun.
It was to the point where I was having thoughts like this.
It was much easier to get over than the wall the boatman spoke of. If the walls I usually faced were rocks blocking my path that I had to crawl over, what the witch had prepared now were small mounds of dirt that were easy to jump over.
So, it was actually fun to get over them. It was also refreshing that she didn’t just repeat the same spells but prepared something new every time, and I appreciated Esther’s effort to transform into a human and explain everything in detail.
Welcome.
This time, Encred spoke. It was a matter that would likely only shake those with weak wills. Everyone passed through the illusion-forming fog as if nothing had happened. Encred had only consumed one horn dagger while running.
The dagger, thrown while holding Will, shattered the symbol forming the core of the spell. The symbol was a fruit hanging on a tree. To be precise, it was a tool molded in the shape of a fruit.
This is exactly what Esther called a master of petty tricks. The effort to create such a thing and place it there to deceive is impressive, if you consider it that way, but it is also useless.
Of course, finding the core of the spell while bitten by the beast of illusion would be difficult, but isn’t it a trick easily seen through by a knight with a steadfast will unaffected by such things?
Well, if all of this activates at once… …
I see.
Esther realized that each of the spells the witch had prepared was not intended to stop those who had entered here.
Preparation to make this land itself one’s own.
A place teeming with the witch’s magical power and filled with traps she had prepared.
Usually, a witch’s hut would define a specific area around the hut, but the witch being chased had boldly targeted an entire forest of the Empire.
Her audacity alone was worthy of praise. However, given that her magical power was subtly mixed with a fishy smell, it was not an achievement she accomplished alone.
What’s behind this?
Should I call it a scent emanating from a quality of magical power itself that was different, rather than a mere borrowed spell?
It was after repeating the process of facing the next move and countering it several times.
Encred saw a black shadow suddenly flying in from the left. No, he felt it.
He heard it before seeing it, and his senses surged before he heard it, so he was right to say he felt it.
He stomped his left foot on the ground and stepped into the rift that split time.
A curved line caught his dynamic vision. The line was not straight, but rough and uneven.
The moment Onul was drawn, he held his breath, and his muscles entered battle mode. He transformed Will into soft downy feathers. At the same time, he imbued his sword, Onul, with solid rock.
The flying line resembled the teeth of a beast rather than a swordsmanship manual, while Encred countered with a precise stance straight out of a manual.
In this way, Onul also became a single line and met the line swung by the shadow. There was no sound. Before that came a shockwave that pushed against his arms and chest.
The shadow swung the line once and bounced back. It wasn’t that he was pushed back by force, but rather that he had intentionally retreated.
The guy, who had been pretending to back away, dropped the line he had been swinging—a knife with an irregular cross-section—at his eye level as if tossing it down and swung both hands.
Throwing weapon.
Enkrid swung his sword eight times to the left and right. In that brief moment, his opponent threw three palm-length blades, three smaller darts, and two throwing axes the size Rem would like. They all flew in with a time delay.
Every movement was natural and fast, showing just how long he had practiced this technique.
Bang, crash! Burst!
Only after all the thrown weapons had been deflected did a succession of noises erupt, assaulting everyone’s ears.
The sound was so loud it sounded as if lightning were striking right beside them. Esther hurriedly wrapped herself in layers of spells.
Rem narrowed her eyes while gripping her axe, and Sinar, though he did not draw his Nair, bent his left knee slightly and assumed a battle stance.
Temares stood beside Trimache, though it was not his intention. Then, a dart deflected by Encred flew toward them, and he caught it.
“X years are causing trouble even on the way home.”
The attacking shadow spoke and went berserk once again. It was literally a berserk rampage.
The fellow, having kicked the ground with a bang, swung his sword ferociously once more.
There was no time for words or anything. He was certainly capable of what he was capable of.
However, while he was speaking his mind, Encred also gained some time, and as always, he attempted something he had newly realized.
Stop.
It is the spell of the Dragon.
It is a spell he realized while killing that half-wit bastard—whether he was a fairy knight or a death knight—from before.
He molds his will to shake the opponent’s mind. Even if they don’t stop like a puppet with a single word, they will stumble at least a little. That will create an opportunity. It
was a remark thrown out based on Luagarne’s tactical thinking, the way to utilize everything one has before a fight.
“what?”
The sound of those voices came from right in front of his nose. A knee with bluish skin, having approached without him noticing, rose up.
The creature was unaffected by the verbal spell. Encreed parried the knee with the hand gripping his sword. At that, the creature swung his forearm like a club.
One might wonder why he was doing this while holding his sword, but there was no time for that. His thoughts snapped, and everything he had practiced burst forth from the realm of the unconscious. He
blocked with his knee and dodged with his forearm by tilting his head back. As a reflex created distance, the creature’s blade flew in, bending as if to swivel.
Was it a sword wielded like a whip? No, it was a sword strike that appeared to curve even in a world of silence.
Death approached his ear and whispered. He heard the boatman’s call.
And Encreed rejected it all. There was no time to tense his body or regulate his breathing. He simply trusted today, trusted the moments he had built and trained until now, and trusted the self of yesterday who never gave up.
Instinct and intuition merged into one, imbued in the sword. The transformation process was completed in an instant, and the gathered Will emitted light. In doing so, he once again faced the opponent’s bending blade.
Ddddddddd.
The moment their swords clashed, he unleashed his power. He pushed him back while still bound.
Since training with Audin, he had rarely been pushed back by force, but now, even if only for a moment, his body was pushed backward.
Taking advantage of this brief opening, Encred gritted his teeth and put strength into his retreating foot.
Squeak.
As the swords clashed and movement froze, emerging from the world of silence, the clashing blades let out a scream. Blood vessels
bulged in Encred’s eyes. The same was true for his opponent’s. Only now did the figure holding the sword come into clear sight.
It had bulging eyeballs and skin that was somewhere between green and blue. Its entire body gleamed, and a ring was attached to the end of the hilt of the weapon in its hand. It
was a Frog. And not just any Frog; it was a Frog and a Knight.
“Is this bastard out of his mind?”
Just as they entered into a struggle of strength, Rem’s voice was heard from above. He had rushed over and swung his axe with all his might.
Frock reacted to that swing. Without deflecting with force or gently shaking it off, he pushed Encred away with sheer strength and parried the axe with his own sword. In
that moment, a sharp, needle-like spike flew in from the side. Although Frock recognized the attack, he did not dodge it properly, merely twisting his waist slightly.
Crunch.
Sinar’s blades transformed into needles, the form of winter, and swept across his flank.
Red blood splattered onto the floor, and Temares’s White Fang flew like an arrow from behind, aiming for his heart.
As if this was the very reason he had been struck by Sinar’s blade, the creature spun around and struck the White Fang with his hind leg.
He had cleverly angled the blade to deflect the blow from below upward. Instead of the heart, the White Fang’s blade severed Frock’s shoulder and part of his ear. A
piece of flesh that had once been Frock’s ear fell off with a thud. Enkrid gripped his sword tightly, while Rem had just realized the creature’s judgment in blocking only his own axe.
Had he not blocked it, the matter would not have ended with merely a torn piece of flesh from his flank, a slash on his shoulder, and a severed ear.
Just moments ago, a brutal exchange of blows had taken place, and four members of the Order of the Mad Knights had surrounded him. Despite the situation, Frock puffed out his cheeks.
“I don’t know what on earth you guys are getting for acting like this, but starting with you, the pretty-faced one, I’m going to tear your crotches apart and kill you all. Huh? Forget about living, you goddamn bastards.”
His tone seemed somewhat excited. I mean, should I say it was madness comparable to Encred’s?
But in terms of madness, this side was definitely superior.
“Ah, I’ll do it alone. Whether it’s an order or a request, you can do anything, so uh, let’s do that.”
Encred spoke. We were just as agitated. Even though we could feel during the exchange just moments ago that the opponent had the upper hand when we fought with determination, he is acting like this.
“Hey, you like fighting, don’t you?”
Then he asks. Frock frowned, then puffed out his cheeks even more and said.
“I don’t know where that bitch found such a treasure.”
