EP.144 The Enemy Meets on a Narrow Bridge (2)
Draka had swung his sword for many long years.
He had fought countless enemies. He had seen numerous strong opponents. He had watched and watched again. For decades, Draka had endured while wielding just a single sword.
‘He spent half of his life with the sword.’
A great knight is perfected through real combat experience. In that sense, Draka was already a perfected knight.
A perfected knight, a Sword Master.
And, the Sword Master never forgets.
He remembers every opponent who has clashed blades with him, even once.
“······.”
Wheeing.
The sword trembles slightly.
Pressing down on the quivering blade with his fingers, Draka raised his head. A girl stood before him. Looking at her, Draka opened his mouth.
“It’s strange when you think about it.”
He narrowed his eyes.
“I thought there were many overlaps. I suspected something was off, but…”
Draka flicked the blade with his finger.
Zing, the blade quivered in response.
“It just doesn’t make sense.”
Indeed, it was nonsensical.
“To not only block a deadly strike but to respond to the following one as well. Isn’t that a bit odd?”
“······.”
“How many humans can react to a sword swung with the intent to kill by a Sword Master? Especially if we limit it to mages… there’s only one.”
The moment he swung his sword, Draka was certain.
‘It was definitely a strike meant to decapitate.’
A strike aimed from an unseen spot.
A perfect ambush seized at the moment his opponent let their guard down.
‘Yet, the opponent dodged.’
Not only did they dodge, but they also countered.
At that moment, the movement shown by the girl replayed vividly in Draka’s mind. Remembering that, Draka fortified his conviction once more.
‘It’s exactly the same.’
Breath, instantaneous movement, choice of spell.
Even the smallest habits were identical.
The choices were no different from what he knew of the “Ashen Mage.” Combat habits weren’t easily changed.
“Am I wrong?”
Thus, Draka was sure.
That the girl before him was the Ashen Mage.
“Ashen.”
The girl remained expressionless. She didn’t affirm or deny, but… to Draka, it was an affirmation.
‘It was odd from the start.’
While climbing the snowy mountain, Draka had seen the girl. She scaled the mountain without hindrance. Then she moved toward the blizzard-capped peak, a place Draka couldn’t reach.
He had suspected before even swinging his sword.
His suspicion had merely turned into certainty.
‘How did she become like this?’
Draka couldn’t understand.
He was ignorant of magic. He knew over a hundred ways to deal with mages, but he had never studied the science of magic.
Not knowing, he chose to trust his instincts.
“It’s become quite a ridiculous situation.”
Snicker, Draka smirked.
“What does that renowned Wise One do after retiring? Is this all there is to it? Must be awfully boring.”
“You say that, but did you come up here because you had something remarkable going on?”
“Well, I might have followed you here sensing something suspicious.”
Raniel narrowed her brow.
“No, that can’t be right. You’re the type who’d rather die than waste time. You must have a purpose for coming here.”
They had clashed many times.
Thus, they knew each other well.
“Do you know what’s here?”
“…I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
Raniel said decisively.
“You don’t know. It’s just a vague guess. That something is here.”
“…You sure act like you know everything.”
She touched her chin and spoke.
“Shall I take a guess?”
Slowly, very slowly, she raised her hand.
The finger she lifted pointed towards the nape of Draka’s neck. More specifically, to the piece of the Saint he had hung around it.
“Holy relics resonate with each other. Everything related to the Star does. Even Holy Swords resonate. So, what were you trying to find with that shard…”
There was no need to ponder.
“The remains of the First Saint.”
She stated.
“The legend attached is the miracle of the event.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly more.
“What do you intend to do with it…?”
She smiled at Draka.
It was the smile of someone who had found the answer. Her half-open azure eyes pierced through Draka.
“Why can’t you let go yet?”
That one remark made Draka chuckle dryly.
Everything had been revealed. Draka brushed his fingers across his eyes and muttered.
“…It’s you again.”
Once again, the Ashen Mage.
What kind of person is the girl before him, the Ashen Mage? She had repeatedly blocked his path. Time and again, she had become a variable in Draka’s plans.
Grip.
Draka tightened his grip on the Saint’s bone around his neck.
The bone, tilted towards the girl, vibrated. Stronger than ever. It held a single meaning.
“The remains of the First Saint.”
Draka pointed his finger at Raniel.
“You have it, don’t you?”
“Why would I give it to you?”
“I want you to hand it over.”
“Do you think I will?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
The wind blows.
Draka’s cloak flutters in the mixed snow-laden breeze. Raniel’s ashen hair dances in the wind.
“It’s amusing when you think about it.”
There was no need to say who did it first.
Both took a step closer to each other simultaneously.
“You don’t understand my way.”
“What kind of insane way would anyone understand?”
“Right, I also never understood you.”
Thinking about it, it’s true.
Draka couldn’t comprehend Raniel’s way. Instead of taking the easy, effective path, she always chose the long route. Draka couldn’t grasp that.
Raniel was the same.
She had never understood Draka. A Sword Demon who sacrificed anything and everything to achieve his goals seemed no different from the Demon Lord’s Army in her eyes.
Neither understood the other.
They both knew that they couldn’t understand each other.
Thus, humans clash.
Clack.
They took another step closer.
“…There were plenty of chances to kill you.”
“Do you think you were the only one?”
They moved closer towards one another.
Ashen mana rose above Raniel’s body. The Sword Demon’s blade was sheathed in a murderous aura. Even amidst the raging blizzard, neither of their breaths faltered.
Tap, they stepped closer again.
Just below ten steps apart, Raniel opened her mouth.
“It’s a wonderful place.”
The Ashen Mage slowly pulled her gloves down.
“I think we might share similar thoughts.”
The Sword Demon adjusted his grip on his sword.
They gazed at each other across the howling snowstorm. All around them was nothing but white snow. There were no witnesses, no human footprints even reached this place.
“Even if I bury one person, it won’t be noticed.”
The distance of ten steps closed in an instant.
A spell glows brightly.
The sword tip cuts through the blizzard, drawing a line.
Thwap!
Beyond the rising snowflakes, they stared at each other. Azure and bloodshot eyes reflected one another’s colors.
“I’ll kill you, Ashen.”
The blade and spell clash.
For a moment, the blizzard cleared.
2.
“Almost there. Get ready, young master.”
“Hmm, I understand.”
“I will check first.”
Thud, Oyakal jumped as he struck the ground. With agile movements, he climbed up a tree and squinted his eyes. His vision instantly expanded.
“Confirmed.”
He wasn’t called the eagle-eyed for nothing.
With near-superhuman eyesight, Oyakal spotted the Holy Knights moving about the village. They were heading somewhere through the town.
“There’s just about thirty visible at the moment. However, looking at their direction, there’s likely more.”
At Oyakal’s words, the warriors paused for a moment.
They exhaled sharply and turned to Oyakal.
“Let’s split our forces. Three will go toward the village.”
Oyakal made his decision.
The thirteen warriors that had arrived here were a total of eight. They needed to split their numbers to move effectively.
“The remaining five will head for their stronghold.”
Obscured by the mountain range.
However, Oyakal couldn’t shake off a sense of unease. He glanced at Lac slightly.
“Which side will you go, young master…”
“Oyakal.”
Lac abruptly interrupted Oyakal.
His voice sounded quite urgent.
“It’s not that way.”
Lac’s eyes were trembling.
“All of them must go that way.”
The direction he pointed at was the opposite of where the Holy Knights were headed. A glint of intensity pulsed in Lac’s eyes. His instincts shouted a warning.
“…To that place.”
Lac spoke.
“That place must not be allowed to come to fruition.”
Something that must not exist.
A force that must not be opposed.
It was on the verge of completion.
3.
The fight between superhumans or those comparable to them isn’t solely determined by strength. The victory and defeat depend on the techniques they’ve built up.
In the past, Kuntel and Draka had dueled once. The victor was Kuntel.
“I won, but.”
However, Kuntel said.
“If this were a duel or a fight to the death, I can’t say I would be assured of victory.”
Kuntel’s blade and Draka’s blade were different.
Draka’s sword was purely for killing. There was no defense or blocking technique involved.
“Even if I win, I can’t do it unscathed.”
Kuntel concluded.
Draka was that kind of person.
Even in defeat, he wouldn’t allow his opponent a perfect victory… at whatever cost.
“Thus, he’s a Sword Demon.”
*
Kaaahh!
The spells and blades clash.
Yet, the sound that rang out was that of metal. Clank, clang! The sounds of metal clashing echoed repeatedly. Two sets of footsteps scrambled across the white snowy ground.
Swish! The blizzard whirled around them.
Clang! The sound of metal reverberated loud.
Stepping back slightly, Draka swung his sword downward. The snow beneath them shot up, Pwfsh, exploding into the air. The swirling snow mixed with the blizzard blocked Raniel’s vision.
Swish!
Draka’s sword, aimed at Raniel, cut through the snowstorm. Draka’s blade was rough. Unlike Kuntel’s smooth, all-encompassing swordplay, it tore and ripped.
Shwack!
The blizzard cut through the blade’s edge.
Tick, ticking through the splitting snowflakes, a pale neck appeared. The blade was just about to sink into her skin.
Smite.
A spell erupts with light.
Clang! The sword rises upward. As the swirling snow dissipated, Raniel’s figure emerged.
It wasn’t only Draka using the obscuring snow.
Boom!
She stomped the ground.
Through the parting blizzard, Raniel swung her fist. The tightly clenched fist held a Stocked spell that erupted with illumination.
Smash.
The ground flipped. The snow piling up beneath them shot up into the air. An invisible shockwave crashed into everything it touched, overwhelming Draka.
“······”
Before the shockwave, Draka’s gaze was tranquil. He didn’t clutch the sword that was knocked from his hand. There was no need to do so.
Spin.
Draka flipped in the air, propelled backward as he caught the sword with his hands. Draka was a Sword Master. The Sword Master is someone who can consistently show a ‘perfect sword’ in any situation or environment.
Wheeing!
The sword tip vibrated loudly.
The contained sword energy awaited its release moment.
Swoosh.
Draka swung his sword in mid-air.
He has struck once, but the results of that swing are not singular.
SHHHHWWWWWIIISH!
The wave of sword energy cleaved through the invisible shockwave. The severing sword energy enveloped Raniel. She crashed with a Thump! onto the ground.
THWACK!
With her bare fist, she swatted away the sword energy.
She shattered the sword energy with just her mana-coated fist. Draka couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity.
‘This is ridiculous.’
Draka scowled.
Though he had felt it before, it was like fighting against a Sword Master wielding dozens of differing swords.
‘No way to predict what she might do.’
Sorcerers, by their very nature, are all troublesome.
The only weakness is that they become helpless in close quarters… but against this damnable Ashen Mage, even that weakness was moot.
THWACK!
A hand flashed past right next to his head.
By instinct, he turned away, avoiding the strike. Draka swung his blade, creating distance.
‘…What sorcerer can engage in melee with a Sword Master?’
He was even overpowered.
He was physically dominated. While his skills matched, gaining the upper hand was impossible.
‘…No, it’s not impossible, but.’
If he wanted to think about the next step, he needed to conserve his power.
Simply killing the Ashen before his eyes was not the end. He needed to seize the remains of the Saint and head for the Altar.
‘That’s not all. He has to keep his resolve to face the Church again after that.’
So he must conserve his strength.
Ultimately, Draka made his decision.
“Phew.”
Draka exhaled briefly.
With a lighter body, he launched himself across the snowy terrain. Behind him, Raniel pursued. Raniel flicked her fingers.
Swish!
Chains shot forth from the air.
Dozens of flashes aimed at Draka.
Orders pour down from all directions. Facing the encroaching spells, Draka slid smoothly across the snow.
Turmoil of Swords.
He held his sword at an angle.
Once up, he swung twice, once upward and once downward.
SHHHHHHWWWWWWWWAAAAK!
The sword tip bursts forth sword energy that lashes through the mountainside. Marks of the sword are haphazardly imprinted all around. He tore through the spells, severing the chains.
‘First Technique.’
The sword tip vibrated.
It was the moment he was going to swing the vibrating blade.
Boom!
Blasting through the blizzard, she reached out.
Before Draka’s sword could etch its perfect trajectory, Raniel grabbed his blade.
Kiieeeng!
With her bare hand, Raniel held back the sword energy yearning for release. Her gloves tore apart. Swish, blood flowed, but Raniel paid no mind.
Rumble.
One hand clutched Draka’s sword while the other formed a fist.
Drip.
The ashes swirled out through the cracks in her clenched fist.
Draka knew Raniel’s combat style. What did that ash signify? It was the emblem of the Ashen Mage.
‘Explosion.’
While still grasping the ash, she swung her fist.
Tick, tingling, the ignited ashes threatened to explode at any moment. However, a smile crept onto Draka’s face.
‘From the very start, that was my plan.’
Draka twisted his blade, pulling it free.
Zinging, as he spun his body, he slashed downward. The ashes that were headed toward him got caught up in the sword energy and sank into the snow. Not everything disappeared. Some adhered to Draka’s body.
BAAAAAAANG!
“Cough!”
It was just a fraction, but its power was not to be underestimated.
Draka’s arm was torn. The finger holding the sword snapped. Skin burnt.
Pababababam!
Finally, the ashes embedded in the ground erupt.
The area trembled. An immense shockwave struck the mountains. The snowy peaks shuddered. The tremor disrupted the stances of both Draka and Raniel.
As the snowstorm that spurted up settled down,
Raniel squinted at Draka.
“…You.”
She looked at Draka’s hand.
His once vigorous arm now drooped, holding something.
“Ashen, do you know what that is?”
A smile spread across Draka’s face.
Draka had tread battlefields for long years.
Although the strongest superhuman was Kuntel, the one who had seen the most battlefields was Draka. For decades, Draka swung his sword across every battlefield.
‘Judgment is key on the battlefield.’
Determining what is possible and what is impossible.
That is the most crucial value on the battlefield. Draka had always made judgments. He evaluated his worth more objectively than anyone else.
This time was no different.
Draka made his judgment.
“I don’t fight battles that I can’t win.”
Draka tightened his grip on what he was holding.
Simultaneously, a thunderous BOOM! echoed in his ears.
Grouch! Boom!
Explosions reverberated all around.
Something deep beneath the ground burst. Raniel squinted. She knew what Draka was pressing down on. She had seen it personally before.
‘…Ignition device.’
It was the device Draka used to lure the Gletus and wipe out the entire village. An ignition device that simultaneously explodes the gunpowder stones.
Boom, boom!
As the thunderous explosions continued resonating, Draka opened his mouth.
“This might not have been possible alone, but…”
Draka’s lips curved into a smile.
“Thanks to you shaking it up enough, it should be effective.”
He threw the ignition device anywhere. Thump, he stomped his foot on the device embedded in the snowy terrain and grinned.
“Ashen, you must have plenty of battle experience too.”
But, Draka said.
“Have you ever fought amidst an avalanche?”
“…Ha.”
“If not,”
Crash, clang!
A white wave obscured the sun. Inside the rushing avalanche, Draka twisted his mouth into a smirk.
“You should get the chance to experience it now.”
He would go to any lengths.
Using whatever means he could.
That was Draka’s way.
