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EP.484 Lac von Grace (3)
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As the sword and axe clashed, the landscape shattered.
Like cracks racing across glass, fragments of a broken world scattered in all directions, two figures stood facing each other amongst the petals of destruction.
Lac gazed at the sword wielded by Barta.
The sword held within it Barta himself, the long life of a beast that wished to be human. The tower Barta had built, the path he had walked, the convictions he held in his final moments… all of it weighed heavily in the blade.
Barta looked at the flames that Lac wielded.
In the shape of an axe, the flames revealed Lac’s life. Pride, independence, and the self he only recognized after letting everything go. The ever-burning fire was intensely hot.
Thus, they clashed — lives against lives.
Or perhaps beliefs against beliefs, or perhaps the very essence of themselves. The two humans showcased their most beautiful and radiant attributes to their worthy opponent.
Kaaaaaaang!
Despite the shockwaves and pressure from the clash of life and life, neither took a single step back. Instead, they both took a step closer with a thud.
Kaa, gagagaga, gagak.
The two lives did not bend or break. In the end, the blade and the flames scraped against each other and surged forward. Flames slid along the blade. The blade slid along the flames.
Chwaak.
Thus, each trajectory completed its path.
An existence unlike any other, a life solely their own. A sword tracing a perfect arc. An axe tracing a perfect arc. The swing came first, the sound following a brief pause.
Screech, and kerchunk.
Barta’s sword cut through Lac’s left arm. Lac’s axe sliced through Barta’s left arm. In perfect synchrony, with not a hint of error, they both severed their opponent’s arm.
Chwaak.
Beast blood and human blood erupted.
Through the surging blood, a boom echoed as footsteps reverberated again.
Barta, with both arms severed and unable to hold his sword, didn’t care. Retaining his left arm, still clenching the sword tightly. He bit down on his severed left arm, which floated away in the air.
The sword was a part of him.
The moment he bit down on his severed arm, sword energy enveloped Barta’s left arm. Using his removed arm as the sword, Barta interconnected his blade path. A clean and swift strike aimed directly at Lac’s neck.
And Lac…
Pulled his right arm, which had been hanging behind him, forward.
In that hand was already an axe formed of flames. From the beginning, Lac had been wielding one axe in each hand. Wielding one axe in each hand was the manner of combat Lac had always practiced.
Woosh.
With a flourish, Lac’s axe moved, trailing flames.
Coincidentally, Lac aimed for Barta’s neck as well. Both targeted each other’s throat as they swung their weapons. The trajectory of Lac’s axe and the trajectory of Barta’s sword once again overlapped. They intersected, but…
This time, unlike before, a conclusion was reached.
In a moment of acceleration, Lac’s axe tore through Barta’s sword energy. Barta’s clenched left arm was shredded. Cutting through the torrent of beast blood, Lac’s axe embedded itself in Barta’s neck. It penetrated deep.
“—————!”
Lac roared as he swung his arm.
The sensation of slicing through bones and tearing flesh. With a sound of burning, Lac’s axe laid down a perfect trajectory. Flames surged forth along the path. A blazing red heat line carved into Barta’s neck.
The moment froze before time resumed its pace.
Along the trajectory where Barta’s sword had swished, the landscape was shredded at an angle. A storm raged behind Lac. As his axe swung, a screech echoed, setting aflame everything it touched. The landscape, heated to a boil, melted away.
Thud, boom. Boom.
Amidst the cacophony of collapsing, burning, and being swept away, Lac stood there, catching his breath in the same posture he had wielded his axe. As he breathed heavily, he raised his head. There stood Barta, looking down at him.
“…Ah, ah.”
Barta groaned, or perhaps chuckled.
Crimson blood trickled from Barta’s partially turned eye. Though he couldn’t see the heated line across his neck, what his inverted gaze saw was his own death.
Face to face with impending death, Barta smiled. Something that had long gone unsatisfied. Something he had yearned for since his previous life. Barta felt his previously hollow heart fill up.
“Lac von Grace.”
The beast, now human, cried out.
“It was the greatest duel.”
He spoke to Lac with his inverted eyes.
“Your victory.”
The red heat line carved into Barta’s neck flared up. With the flames igniting, Barta’s head tilted at an angle. With a thud, Barta’s severed head fell to the floor of the Fortuna Temple.
In the temple where, in the past, a girl named Barta had taken her own life… the beast who became a human, the knight Barta, faced his demise.
*
Ugh, phew…
In front of the fallen Barta’s corpse, Lac huffed heavily. With every breath, he coughed out mouthfuls of crimson blood. Staggering, Lac leaned against the collapsed pillar of the temple and sank to the ground.
The bleeding wouldn’t stop.
His severed arm throbbed. There wasn’t a single part of his body that felt intact. Leaning against the pillar, Lac glanced at Barta’s corpse. He looked at the head he had severed.
‘King of Beasts… Barta.’
An absolutely terrifying opponent.
The catalyst for him becoming superhuman and the reason for his growth. Despite hating and resenting Barta for crushing the pride of his kin… in this moment, he had no choice but to pay respect.
Staring at the beast who met his end as a human, Lac let out a long, deep breath.
“…Hoo.”
He had won. He triumphed. He had finally brought him down.
He had single-handedly quelled an ancient calamity. He wished to rejoice in that fact, but the situation wasn’t looking too good.
‘…My body won’t move.’
His vision blurred, and his body grew cold.
It was because he had lost too much blood. His body, pushed beyond its limits, crossed into that threshold.
“I have to keep my promise.”
The promise he made with her before coming here.
It seemed unlikely he could uphold that promise.
Lac’s eyelids slowly began to close.
Thud, boom… boom.
“……”
At the sound of the ground shaking, Kalt slowly opened his eyes. As he did, a frown quickly formed on his face. His head throbbed. His thoughts weren’t connecting properly, as if part of his memory had been abruptly severed.
What had happened?
Why was he lying down?
Kalt blinked twice. Even as he did, the thud, boom sound continued to resonate across the ground. After blinking, Kalt gazed ahead with hazy vision.
…A landscape cut at an angle lay before him.
Magic towers were thrust into the ground.
The debris of the cut towers. A landscape of butchered earth. And the clouds and sky sliced at an angle. The moment he saw it, Kalt’s memory returned in full.
“Cough, gurgle…!”
Kalt coughed up blood.
That’s right, he remembered. He had been struck a blow from Death’s Blade and thought victory was at hand when… Death’s Blade tore off its own right arm.
‘And then, it swung the sword.’
In an even more perfected form. At an even faster speed.
Even though it had been behind him, he had lost consciousness, swept up in the backlash. He couldn’t tell how long he had been out, but… it didn’t seem like it had been a long time.
“Cough…”
Kalt stood up while coughing out blood.
If he was this worn down standing on the opposite side of the clash, then what of his senior who faced it directly…?
‘I think I saw chains just before losing consciousness.’
The last thing he had seen was shimmering chains rising with the sound of offering.
‘Please…’
Hoping desperately for Raniel’s safety, Kalt focused his eyes. His blurry vision sharpened. What was revealed were the limp Death’s Blade and… the sight of Raniel collapsed far away.
…In a Blood Pool, Raniel lay motionless.
Around her body, gnarled chains lay scattered. Drenched in crimson blood, Raniel stirred none. It was impossible to tell if she was alive or dead.
“…Senpai.”
There was no answer in return.
Only Death’s Blade, gazing at the fallen Raniel, slowly turned his head to regard Kalt. Death looked directly at Kalt.
“Next.”
Death posed a question to Kalt.
“There’s no next?”
Having further perfected itself by tearing away its own half-body, Death asked. Despite bleeding out, ravaged by decay, it sought the next opponent.
“I am not down yet.”
The calamity that is Death remains unvanquished.
Death was still here. So bring the next opponent. It was as if Death was shouting, taking a step toward Kalt.
“Is it you?”
Death asked.
“Will you stand against me?”
Kalt gritted his teeth.
Clutching the broken sword, he wanted to step forth against death, but his legs wouldn’t move. His body had reached its limit ages ago. Just standing now was a miracle.
He couldn’t win, not ever.
There was simply no way in Kalt’s mind to defeat the Death standing before him.
‘What on earth am I to do…’
Stuck between retreating and advancing, Kalt gazed at Ganikalt approaching. Just then, while Kalt remained fixated on Death, Raniel’s body, submerged in the pool of blood, twitched slightly.
“……”
Death, who had been moving toward Kalt, turned its head back.
With a splash, Raniel was slowly rising to her feet, using the blood pool as support. Her state, having barely risen, was… exceedingly dubious.
One eye was closed. The open eye lacked focus. Her drooping arms were twisted, and her fingers were completely severed. Her long, slashed right shoulder looked ready to tear apart at any moment.
Drip drip.
With each breath, blood gushed from her open wounds, and her complexion grew even paler. Even the shimmering starlight could not heal her. She had barely stood up; she appeared unable to do anything more than that.
Crunch.
Kalt gritted his teeth and took a step forward.
The moment he moved, pain surged through him, and Kalt grimaced. As he glanced down, shards of stone were deeply embedded in his abdomen. It seemed to be the result of being thrown amidst the storm.
Thud.
As Kalt grasped the stone shard and pulled it from his abdomen, he exhaled deeply. Breathing out, he took another step forward. Two steps, three steps. Kalt rushed towards Ganikalt, clutching his broken sword.
To protect the unmoving Raniel, or to buy time.
