1050. Why did I lose?
Change everything!
It was just before the javelins thrown by the Border Guard battle line reached their destination. A shout erupted among the congregation.
At the Cardinal’s single word, the believers’ bodies reacted. Shoulder muscles swelled, and pitch-black veins bulged in their necks.
Crunching and grinding, their entire skeletons twisted and interlocked, producing sounds akin to the grinding of millstones.
Their swollen clothes tore and burst. In this way, their bodies grew larger, and their skin turned a dark purplish-black, like plums that had ripened beyond mere dark.
It was not a beautiful or pleasant sight.
Some had their skin crack and split like a parched earthen floor, bleeding blood the same color as their skin; others had their eyeballs pop out uncontrollably like lizards, with one falling out and rolling across the ground. Then, pitch-black fluid streamed down from the spot where the eyeball had fallen out.
These were people transforming into countless forms.
It was a grace received for having revered the Second Coming or the Demonic Realm as holy sites throughout their lives.
Of course, it looked like a curse on the surface, but to them, it was indeed grace and favor.
One unlucky fellow is struck by a spear. The one, half-monsterized, pulls the spear stuck in his shoulder and throws it.
“Kuaaaah!”
A sound that was indistinguishable from a scream or a battle cry burst out. Flesh squirmed and tangled in the hole where the spearhead had been embedded, stopping the bleeding.
“This is indeed our temple!”
The commander and Cardinal shouted. His body had suddenly grown twice the size of the other demons.
It was a body large enough to make Audin, who used to be mocked as a bear beastman, feel wronged.
Pitch-black feathers also sprouted from his back. There was no way a human’s appearance could change like this simply because they were tainted by demonic energy.
All of them were a new species transformed by the power of the demons he served. Therefore, they were the true demons.
The Cardinal snatched the flying spear with his bare hands, put the shaft in his mouth, and chewed it.
simplicity and honesty!
The spear shaft, which had been oiled for several months and was as hard as ordinary steel, broke and scattered thorn fragments.
“Go, chew them all up and kill them.”
The excited cardinal shouted.
“Woah!”
“Kuo!”
Some of the demons, having lost their ability to speak, respond. In the midst of this, only three demons died. Only one was killed by a spear.
The one who made a living by moving nimbly rather than hardening his skin was the only one to be struck by a spear.
Crybaby Gabriel and his nine squad members had initially thrown ten spears at that single creature.
Thanks to this, the demon’s head exploded before he could even show off his agility.
This was the only moment the spears revealed their true power.
Three of the other squads scattered their spears to gauge the overall strength, and the ten spears aimed at one creature, similar to Gabriel’s squad, were useless.
The target had transformed, growing scales all over his body and his eyeballs splitting vertically.
He took the spear with his body without even pretending to block it, and sparks flew onto the scales where the spearhead had ricocheted off with a thud.
Among the others who died, the second one could not withstand the side effects of the transformation; his entire body exploded, spraying blood in all directions that emitted a stench like a mixture of urine and fish. Finally, the third one had his leg pierced by a spear and was killed when his head was trampled under the foot of a comrade standing beside him.
The man who stepped on his comrade’s head merely tilted his head once, but his foot had already transformed from a mere toe-less into something resembling a lump of metal with a blunt, rough cross-section.
Every sight was beyond gruesome—it was enough to make one swallow hard—but when had this world ever been easy?
Having not only survived among inhuman bandits, monsters, and beasts but had also achieved freedom and peace, they were not easily intimidated.
Not a single member of the defense force, including the crybaby Gabriel, faltered.
They also benefited from the atmosphere created by the composure maintained by all the veteran soldiers, including the commander.
Wrap it with wings.
At the commander’s command, they changed formation and faced the enemy directly. It was a type of encirclement. It is a formation suitable for two or three soldiers facing a single enemy, where the wings are spread wide to fight in a large encirclement. It was
a form useful for small-scale combat, and the Border Guard standing army had practiced it at least two hundred times under the name of tactical training.
Repetition breeds proficiency. The Border Guard army spread out smoothly to encircle the enemy. It was a sight that would naturally evoke admiration from anyone watching.
Gabriel’s squad advanced, occupying one of the wingtips. Since
two knights were fighting in the center, both allies and enemies naturally clashed, leaving only the space for those two to fight empty.
Gabriel watched as the approaching figure charged forward, wielding his claws like five swords. Even his little fingernail was longer than the pocket knife he held in his bosom.
Gabriel raised the shield fixed to his left forearm.
Bang!
The force with which the shield was struck was tremendous.
‘a little.’
It’s heavy, isn’t it?
Then it’s hard to take it straight through. So I let it slide to the side. It was a movement bordering on instinct. If you ask why this became an instinct, I would say it was thanks to the madman’s coercion.
“If you can’t let it flow, you’ll die. Stop it.”
Compared to the greatsword wielded by Ragnar Zaun, one of the Mad Knights, under the pretext of training, this is a manageable level.
Didn’t they say that training is supposed to be ten times harder than actual combat?
It was a hundred times heavier.
The squad, including Gabriel, faced the five demons, blocking, thrusting, deflecting, and dodging.
Two of them instantly assembled spear shafts to create short spears, thrusting from a distance and retreating.
They changed their tactics after confirming at a glance that the opponents’ feet were not particularly fast.
These were creatures whose entire bodies had turned purple and whose feet had become flattened.
As the short spears thrust at them, they raised their arms to block, but their arms were so broad that they covered half of their bodies.
Takang! Bang!
A bright red spark and a cheerful sound rang out at the same time.
It can’t be penetrated by steel.
One soldier spoke calmly. Then, while one soldier distracted Mine by dazzlingly thrusting and swinging his spear to block her path, another soldier slyly stepped back, removed the blade, and reassembled it.
The tip of his blade turned pitch black. It was an obsidian blade. This, too, was one of the standard pieces of equipment for the Border Guard standing army.
He used his comrade as both a shield and a barrier; for the two of them, it was a natural tactical maneuver. Holding the assembled spear, he aimed at the enemy and spun sideways.
The movement was truly swift. Mine, not intending to just sit there and take it, turned his body to the side as well.
One blocks, the other pierces. The one who fails dies, the one who succeeds lives. It was a fight where only a simple and clear answer existed.
Watching the way her squad member fought, Gabriel thrust her sword.
Ting.
The long-fingered Mine drooled, and as the spit fell onto the dirt, smoke rose up with a hiss.
Watch out for secretions.
As another soldier had said a moment ago, they exchanged instructions on what to watch out for. At the same time, Gabriel’s forearm muscles bulged.
Anyone could see he was poised to close the distance in an instant and settle the matter with a single strike. He avoided secretions like saliva and struck and retreated. Gabriel’s momentum was extraordinary.
Anyone with discernment would have nodded in agreement, remarking that he was on the level of a Squire.
If Junior Knights are those who realize the Will, then Squires are those who have reached the limits of human capability.
Top-tier Squires even utilize the Will partially. Was Gabriel at that level?
Black tears flowed from Mine’s agitated, pitch-black eyes. They were tears that burned the creature’s cheeks with a hissing sound.
It was no wonder he was crying suddenly. Gabriel was thinking only of killing his enemy.
Would he settle the matter with a single strike? His momentum suggested so.
Mine sensed it, too. Instinctively, he adjusted his stance. He bent his knees slightly, tensed his shoulders, and gathered his five claws to aim straight ahead.
It was a moment when both Gabriel and Mine read each other’s rhythms, forgetting the surrounding sounds and focusing intently. Perhaps because patience tends to wane when one transforms, Mine made the first move.
The creature reached forward, and its claws extended.
It was as if the weapon’s reach had suddenly increased. Watching the claws grow longer, Gabriel raised his left fist toward the enemy, spun the arming sword in his right hand as if performing a stunt, and gripped it in a reverse grip to support his left hand.
Before the claws could touch, Gabriel twisted his left wrist downward. Simultaneously, the top of his thick wrist guard exploded with a pop, sending a small arrow flying and lodged in Mine’s eye.
It was a close-range attack, and an unexpected one at that.
“Squeak!”
The guy who got hit in the eye let out a scream. His claws just whizzed past where Gabriel had been.
It was a small crossbow used in the past when fighting the Black Sword Bandits. Now, it is one of the standard pieces of equipment for the Border Guard standing army.
“If I had to give it a name, should I call it the traditional Encred-style tactics?”
It’s not really worth nitpicking, but this tactic came from Kryss’s head.
“War is meant to be won. Honor is important, but if you have the chance to save a comrade, use it. Isn’t that the right thing to do?”
It was what Crys had said, and Gabriel agreed. He swung his sword toward the neck of the demon whose eyeball had burst. He struck down and severed the demon’s thickened throat.
It was a technique acquired through training and endurance.
The demon’s tough hide was cut by his blade. *Crack*—not clean, but sufficient skill and strength to kill. Blood splattered in all directions from the torn and severed neck.
*Hissing, hissing*—smoke rose from the floor, and a few drops of blood splattered onto Gabriel’s equipment.
Chik.
Smoke rises. Yet, there are no holes. Every single item they wear and carry was painstakingly crafted by the dwarf workshop.
Moreover, the materials consisted of hides collected by slaughtering the monsters and beasts that had plagued this area.
Crys used every single thing efficiently, leaving nothing behind. He utilized the hides of monsters and beasts, as well as the wrist crossbows obtained from bandits, turning them into his own.
Gabril paused for a moment, still holding the demon’s head, to think.
Bend.
I don’t really know how to capture Will yet, but I know how to capture the heart.
With a single, unified heart.
This was learned from the captain, a mad knight order and a demonic knight who protects this land.
The training methods taught and spread by Encred transformed the standard of the Border Guard standing army. Consequently, they reached a level where they could withstand a sudden onslaught of demons like this. Naturally, Gabriel wasn’t the only one defeated.
“Where are you going!”
The soldier, having pierced the tough hide of the demon with an obsidian spear, thrust the spear into the ground and stepped back. The demon swung its arm toward where he had been. Black blood gushed from his neck, and after flailing his arms in the air a few times, he collapsed.
With a thud, his knees and head slammed into the ground, and his eyes slowly lost their light. The dying demon opened his mouth.
Oh God.
It was a moment where a false belief was betrayed, I suppose.
As Gabriel roughly gauged the direction of the fight, he wondered if the devil was a fool.
Did they send troops without considering our strength at all?
Mine, already over thirty, rolls on the ground. There were no casualties on our side.
A futile endeavor.
He saw it that way.
* * *
“Why?”
Vanito, a Knight of the Order, looked up with one knee severed. A Knight of Death possessed his body, and he had trained ceaselessly all this time. Objectively speaking, he was superior. He knew it the moment their swords clashed.
I’m stronger, too.
His instantaneous acceleration was faster, and as he transformed into a demon, the range of motion in his joints increased, making it possible to thrust his sword from bizarre angles that his opponent could not have predicted.
In other words, he had become a difficult opponent to deal with technically as well. However, the result betrayed his expectations.
Such a sense of omnipotence was of no use, and his elevated spirit quickly crumbled.
While he had his left leg and arm severed, his opponent had merely had his shoulder blade torn.
He couldn’t even scratch his skin.
His opponent showed no signs of surprise, nor did he act as if he had won by luck. By maintaining a nonchalant attitude without showing much joy, he inflicted an even more miserable feeling on Vanito.
“To be honest, you don’t die instantly just from a graze. My sword isn’t that kind of weapon. Anyway, that’s why you pushed yourself too hard trying not to even graze me, right? That’s your first reason for defeat.”
It was the answer to the question of “why.” The guy who used to mock things like “Noooooreung” recited the reason for his own defeat.
Banito blinked a few times. His past life flashed through his mind—from becoming a demon, realizing Will, living as a member of the Holy Cult again, and finally being rewarded for his faith. At the moment he met his end, what remained for him was not faith.
Now, all he harbored was a single question.
“Why did I lose?”
Leaving aside gods, demons, and power, Vanito purely craved. He wanted to know the reason for his defeat. Why did it turn out this way? Why? He was certain his abilities were superior.
Even though he had experienced it firsthand, the process itself was incomprehensible.
Was it purely luck? Opportunities to kill his opponent had been within his grasp several times.
Why had he missed them all?
Pell had spent the time hanging out within the Order of the Mad Knights. It was an insight gained thanks to that experience.
“You. How many times have you fought someone stronger than you?”
Vanito fell into thought at the abrupt question. A knight within the Order with skills superior to his own? There wasn’t one.
Then this is only natural.
So what?
He had already bled too much. Although Pell had shown some kindness, Vanito closed his eyes without fully resolving his doubts.
In truth, he had been on the verge of death for quite some time. Since he had already slain the Black Death Knight known as the Idol Slayer, the spell planted by someone to activate immediately upon death had become useless.
“That’s why it’s easy. This is what happens when you roll around with someone stronger than you every day.”
Pell muttered. The reason for the outcome was clear.
In the Order of the Mad Knights, Pell was beaten by Rem, blasted by Ragnar, chased by Audin, and defeated by Encred. He lost countless times, truly countless times.
And in the midst of all this, that bastard Roford was always barely keeping up with him.
Back in the days of the shepherd.
I suppose you could call it a pleasure I had never felt before.
Here, it was acceptable to go beyond simply pouring out everything I had and test my limits.
I could extend my sword forward and upward as I pleased. As if to repay that sentiment, the Idol Slayer let out a sharp ring.
When did it start, the time the sword began to speak to me so subtly?
From that moment on, I knew that even if I were struck by the Idol Slayer, I would never die with my soul severed in an instant.
If asked how I knew, I had no choice but to say that the sword had told me.
That doesn’t mean I told you directly, though.
Isn’t it a bit strange for a sword to speak?
Anyway, why did these guys attack? Encred, if they knew the Captain’s ability, there would be no reason to send a worthless piece of trash like Gojang. Pell
looked at his allies, who had seized the advantage in an instant. The battle was in its final stages. A declaration of surrender would come soon.
He waited for that, but the fighting did not end easily, and he saw that bastard Roford appear out of nowhere and cut across the battlefield.
