EP.145 The Enemy Meets on a Narrow Bridge (3)
The Warriors of the North, especially the thirteen warriors under the Duke, know Lac well. They’ve been with him since he was a child.
How to wield a weapon.
How to move your body.
How to hunt wild animals.
The warriors taught Lac all of that. They were his mentors, as close as brothers. Therefore, they also understand Lac’s instincts well.
‘An instinct close to prophecy.’
A heightened sense of danger that has reached its extreme.
If Lac speaks of his instincts, it is generally correct. He has never been wrong until now. Thus, the warriors trusted Lac’s instincts once again.
Thud.
They send only one warrior in the direction of the village. The remaining seven warriors walk in the direction Lac pointed. As they approach their destination, their steps grow heavier.
“……”
The warriors fall silent.
Their faces gradually contort.
‘This is.’
It’s a familiar smell. The foul stench that pricks the noses of the warriors is inseparable from them. The familiar scent is coming from a place it shouldn’t be.
Thunk.
The warriors slowly stop walking.
They raise their heads. The expression of Lac, standing beside the warriors, hardens.
“It’s late.”
One warrior mutters.
What’s late? No one asks in detail. There was no need for water. The warriors simply look ahead.
It’s a trail of red blood.
The blood trail stretches on and on.
Red spots are marked on the wide snowfield. Some are large, others small. The scattered spots eventually become lines. The red lines lead beyond the snowfield. There are not just one or two.
Dozens, perhaps hundreds.
So many humans were dragged there, bleeding. For what purpose? They cannot know. They can’t, but…
“Are you the Warriors of the North?”
Those who might have the answer stand there.
The warriors’ gazes turn to the knight who has spoken. The knight’s white armor shines in the sunlight.
‘A Holy Knight.’
A Holy Knight in his thirties stands at the path where the bloodstains deepen. Behind him, a narrow road is formed.
A path stained red.
A road saturated with the smell of blood.
“I am Jerutatra, one of the hundred elite of the Divine Knight Order.”
The knight states as he stands blocking the path.
“This is a sacred place. Outsiders are denied entry.”
“…A sacred place?”
Oyakal snorts in disbelief.
“Since when has the land of the North been your sacred ground?”
“God has ordained it.”
“How ridiculous. The land that has been under the rule of the Grace Family for centuries has suddenly become a land blessed by God overnight…”
Oyakal’s expression twists.
“Do you really think that makes sense?”
“God’s will is often like that. As mere creatures, we should not try to understand it or doubt it.”
“Very convenient, that. Any trouble can be easily resolved by just invoking God’s name.”
The warriors step forward.
“Holy Knight, perhaps that kind of tyranny works elsewhere, but…”
Oyakal draws a weapon from his waist.
“This is the North. Everything in this land belongs to our lord, the Duke.”
The warriors step in front of Lac.
Oyakal turns to look at Lac.
“Sir.”
“…I’m listening.”
“Is there something beyond here?”
“There is.”
“You must see it with your own eyes.”
“It seems so.”
Oyakal nods.
“I understand.”
He turns his head back again.
Standing at the forefront of the warriors, he raises his voice loudly. Oyakal’s voice echoes through the air like a battle cry.
“This is the North!”
Thud, the warriors stomp their feet.
“The law of the North is determined only by our lord, the Duke! Even God is but a mere illusion here in the North!”
The Holy Knights frown.
In front of those who believe in God, Oyakal treats Him like a phantom. It’s not just Oyakal. For those who live in the North, God is worthless.
“The North is a land forged by humans. It was the Grace Family’s ancestors who pressed down on this barren land. Those who live here will never forget their grace.”
Thud once more, the warriors stomp their feet.
They draw their weapons. Huge axes, sharp swords, and large greatswords gleam in the harsh sunlight.
“The next lord of the Grace Family has spoken.”
Their weapons target the Holy Knight.
The Duke’s thirteen warriors. They are like weapons wielded according to their lord’s will.
“Clear that path. We shall go beyond.”
Then, what must be done?
The warriors harbor no questions.
They simply carry out their lord’s command.
“Break through. That is our role.”
They roar.
The seven warriors sprint down the snowy mountain like they’re gliding. The seven beasts bare their fangs at the Holy Knights blocking their path.
“Sir.”
Just before the collision, Oyakal turns to Lac.
“Go.”
Lac slams his feet into the ground.
2.
Fighting a superhuman is always tedious. Always.
On the trembling snowy mountain, Raniel furrows her brow. An avalanche is coming down. The massive wave of snow blocks even the sun. A shadow looms over the area.
Crash!
The avalanche literally grinds everything in its path to dust. From the perspective of the avalanche, it’s a surge, but to the human eye watching, it’s no mere surge.
‘What a damn hassle.’
Raniel clicks her tongue at the approaching avalanche.
Even with the rubble coming toward her, she remains unfazed. Raniel’s eyes move quickly. What arises is the question from the Sword Demon.
‘…Have you ever fought in an avalanche?’
Have I ever fought in an avalanche?
Of course, I haven’t. I’ve fought several battles on the snowy mountains, but I’ve never had to fight in front of an avalanche of this scale. In the first place, strategies utilizing such terrain require careful consideration.
‘It’s not just dangerous for the opponent; it’s toxic for allies too.’
That’s why Raniel had generally avoided strategies that would destroy the terrain unless the opponent was an incomprehensible monster.
‘…I may not have experience, but.’
There’s a similar experience she recalls.
Raniel thinks back to her battle with Ganikalt.
‘That time I demolished the entire valley.’
Of course, the circumstances were different then and now.
But in some ways, they are similar.
What did she do back then?
‘Perhaps.’
She might have acted like this.
Raniel spreads her arms wide.
Boom!
The ground shakes. It’s hard to maintain balance. However, Raniel is a Mage. If the opponent is a Superhuman who can wield their sword in any situation or environment…
Snap.
Raniel is a Battle Mage.
The most efficient mage who can unleash stocked spells anywhere.
“Hey.”
Clapping her hands together, Raniel smiles.
“Are you confident?”
The stocked spell emits light.
More intense than ever.
“……!”
The flash is but a moment. However, those who have reached the realm of the superhuman can read that momentary light. Draka’s pupils shrink. In a slowed perception of time, Draka sees it.
‘…This is maddening.’
A moment of flash, a moment of circuit.
Dozens of circuits blinked and disappeared in an instant. Soon the impending spell is unknown to Draka. However, one thing is certain.
‘I won’t be able to escape intact.’
The instinct of a superhuman sounds the alarm.
Draka acts on instinct. He kicks off the ground and leaps up. Instantly, the ground shakes. Dozens of ice shards shoot up from the ground. The terrain shifts.
Scrape!
Cutting through the tops of the ice shards, Draka lands. Yet, it doesn’t end. Draka lets out a hollow laugh as he looks ahead.
“…Ha.”
Raniel, the Ashen Mage.
Before developing the Battle Mage Class, her class was Wizard. A class that primarily dealt with elemental magic. So, what element did she handle?
Fire.
That answer was right in front of him.
A fireball the size of a house pours forth. Not just one. Seeing the flames filling her field of view, Draka clicks his tongue.
He senses it.
This is just the beginning.
3.
Even amid the oncoming avalanche, the battle of the two reaching the realm of superhumans rages on. There is no retreat on either side. They glide down the snowy mountain quickly, colliding with one another.
Slash!
The strikes cut through the snowy mound.
The accelerating mound of snow is like a boulder. The shattered snowball crumbles loudly against the ground.
Fire!
The fireball cuts through the blizzard.
The heat of the gigantic flame melts the surrounding snow. Following the fire, various spells chase after Draka.
Crash!
And still, the snow continues to pour in.
That fact irritates Raniel.
‘This is annoying.’
If the avalanche was the only thing crashing down, she could just blast it away with spells… One could just strike pillars in layers to stop it. However, it’s not just the avalanche that’s coming.
Scrape!
Raniel tilts her head back.
A slash grazes over her head. Right, she can’t afford to unleash her spells as planned. There’s a constant stream of interruptions. Raniel furrows her brow.
‘Persistent.’
Draka’s sword did just that. Even while fleeing from the avalanche and intercepting the spells pouring in, he never relented in his attack. Whenever there’s a gap, he unleashes a blade.
‘And he does so from blind spots.’
Amid the raging blizzard.
Sometimes hiding in the flashes created by spells, he steadily aims for her blind spots. He is originally an expert at cutting down humans.
The Sword Master is usually like this.
It’s impossible to catch up with them in technique.
‘Uncle Kuntel was the same.’
The renowned Sword Master was particularly like that.
‘Kyle’s physical ability is overwhelmingly superior, but…’
Kyle has never defeated Kuntel in a duel. Sword Masters possess techniques that bridge the gap in raw power. The Sword Demon is no different.
Slash!
Tearing apart the incoming blade with her bare hands, Raniel accelerates. Ashen dust flutters behind her.
‘Annoying but…’
Raniel slashes down Draka’s swinging sword. While the sword and fist collide, the one sent flying is the blade.
‘It doesn’t seem like I’ll lose.’
Indeed, that is the case. Other than the wounds on her palm from grabbing the blade with her bare hands, Raniel is not seriously injured.
What about the Sword Demon, though?
“Huff…”
Ragged breaths seep into her ears.
As she parries the sword, Raniel sees Draka’s form.
He is covered in wounds. One arm hangs limp, and blood flows from the skin cut by spells. The longer the battle drags on, the more injuries Draka accumulates.
‘But still, it’s not enough.’
In the end, a decisive strike is lacking.
Raniel bites her lip.
She looks back. The avalanche grows in size. And if she remembers correctly… there’s a village beneath this.
‘He must have been aiming for that from the start.’
To continue chasing her to the end while leaving the village below to be swept up in the avalanche… or perhaps blocking the avalanche while bracing for vulnerability.
‘Honestly, what a sly tactic…’
Truly Draka’s style.
Raniel clicks her tongue.
“Ts.”
Now is the moment to decide.
Whoosh, Raniel drags her feet back. Suddenly coming to a stop, she turns her back to Draka.
Crash!
Watching the oncoming avalanche, Raniel claps her hands together. Ashen dust gathers around her. The amount of ash accumulated while running thus far is considerable.
‘This should be enough.’
Raniel throws down the gauntlet.
‘Avalanche or not, I’ll unleash it all at once.’
Tick, tkktktkt!
Sparks fly from the ash. Flames rise as if they could explode at any moment. Even compared to the approaching wave of snow, the power of the flame is unyielding.
Ignite.
Ashes to Ashes.
The flames blaze fiercely.
Just as the final spark bursts forth, a flash picks that moment to strike…
A thud.
Someone leaps into the hellfire transforming around Raniel. Without hesitation, it’s Draka. Like a demon, he leaps into hell, swinging his sword.
Draka’s retina burns fiercely.
Yet, the bloodshot pupils show no signs of wavering. He sees what he must cut down. The fevered sword aims for Raniel.
Raniel expected this too.
She set the bait for him to come in. Aware that it was bait, Draka took the bait. They move as each expected. What remains is one thing.
Will the explosion go off first, or will the blade reach first?
It’s a momentary contest. The outcome will be determined in an instant.
And that moment arrives.
Clang!
A streak of light strikes amidst the impending explosion. It shakes the tip of Draka’s blade. A minute tremor, but… in a moment of contest, it becomes a significant variable.
Draka’s sword does not reach Raniel.
The explosion will turn the area into a wasteland.
Therefore, the outcome has been decided.
BOOM!
A deafening roar struck the snowy mountain.
