Chapter 267
Chapter 267
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 267
Chapter Title: Drainage Tunnel (3)
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Eloa gripped her sword with an upward stance, glaring at the Red Knight.
The Red Knight, clutching the Red Branch, met her gaze with a sinister sneer.
The Red Knight, who once possessed thirty eyes, had been granted forty by the Witch of Cowardice.
That number matched the count of eyes on the homunculus deemed the most powerful and colossal disaster in history.
The monstrous serpent known by the epithet 'Jörmungandr' had devoured three kingdoms, eight cities, countless villages, and seventy-eight witches before finally being slain by the Kether Duke.
This was back when Gehenna's hierarchy was just taking root.
Considering the average witch rank was 15th tier at the time, the deaths of seventy-eight witches might not have been all that shocking.
Even so, it was no reason to underestimate the Red Knight's strength or that of the homunculus it now matched in eyes.
Of course, just as hierarchy didn't equate to absolute combat prowess, the number of eyes wasn't an absolute measure of a homunculus's power.
Yet the Red Knight was a seasoned warrior who had slain countless witches over long years of battle.
Even after seven clashes yielding seven victories, Eloa hadn't slain it—not out of carelessness.
The Red Knight was a master capable of parrying her spear and sword while reserving enough strength to escape.
"……"
"……"
Eloa calmly faced off against the Red Knight, gauging each other's power.
First, the Red Knight.
A homunculus's strength varied starkly based on what it harbored within.
Even a mediocre homunculus became a formidable foe if loaded with tricky nature magic like the 'Egg of Gnosis.'
In that sense, the Red Knight wielding the notoriously troublesome divine spear 'Red Branch' was a nightmare in itself.
Spear strikes that pierced ideology and logic.
Distortion fields that disrupted all manner of spells and ethereal functions.
Red barriers that manipulated the reality of whatever they touched.
It wielded magic broader in application and harder to counter than most combat witches.
This was why Eloa, despite her overwhelming superiority, had failed to fully exterminate it in the past.
Moreover, upon their reunion after so long, the Red Knight's spear felt... different.
The unnatural red aura coursing along its shaft was on another level from before.
Richer, perhaps? Imbued with a denser sense of wrongness.
The Witch of Cowardice hadn't merely strengthened the Red Knight—she'd upgraded the Red Branch itself by a tier.
Meanwhile, Eloa.
She had already consumed thirty percent of her mana defeating the White Knights to reach this point.
One of her twelve contracts was tied up in the 'Guardian's Contract' protecting Siu, leaving her with only eleven.
No big issue in ordinary circumstances.
But could she win against the Red Knight at full strength like this?
Eloa, who had faced myriad public enemies and homunculi, felt a rare twinge of crisis.
"Fall back. Prepare to escape."
She pushed Siu behind her and angled the Contract Sword forward diagonally.
"I make a contract."
She activated two of her remaining three contracts.
The Red Knight was likely the Witch of Cowardice's trump card.
Not an opponent she could take lightly while holding back, but exhausting all her power here would leave nothing for what came after.
Contract nine: redefine the concept of her physical form.
To minimize distortion's effects, she reestablished her existence atop the world.
This eliminated any risk of her being warped or unraveled by barriers.
Contract ten: expend half her remaining mana, converting it to raw power.
The Witch of Cowardice's forces weren't just the Red Knight.
About six hundred White Knights remained, plus the witch herself, however low her combat prowess.
Allocating more mana here meant victory would be pyrrhic.
Eleven of the twelve runes etched along the Contract Sword's flat blazed, scattering heavy waves of mana.
-Clank!
The Red Knight moved first.
It flung aside the witch's corpse it had been gripping by the hair, then glided forward in a slippery step, thrusting its spear.
At a glance, the motion seemed weaker than a White Knight's.
No great whoosh through the air, no apparent brute force.
But that was an illusion.
Like deep river currents flowing silently, its focused power avoided fanfare—yet moved several times faster and stronger.
The spear tip had already slipped through her guard, aiming for her heart.
"Hah!"
Eloa's body spun, batting the spearhead aside.
Or trying to, at least.
An unexpected suction yanked the spear tip flush against her blade's side.
Her strength fell short.
The Red Knight was far stronger than before.
-Kagak! Kagagak!
Eloa didn't panic at the unforeseen snag, seamlessly shifting to sword wrestling.
So fluid it seemed premeditated from the start.
'Binding': locking weapons and pulling to halt attacks.
'Winding': twisting to exploit gaps and overpower.
Broadly, sword wrestling boiled down to these two—wrestling, plain and simple.
Sensing pressure and shifts from clashing arms, predicting moves and rhythm.
Modulating pace and force to deflect the foe's weapon while landing lethal blows with your own—a brutal game of inches.
-Kak! Kagagak! Kkak!
With sounds like cracking walnuts, red spear blade and white sword crossed and twisted endlessly.
Like two dragons coiling in mortal combat, sword and spear tangled wildly, spewing fierce mana sparks on each clash.
Neither yielded an inch.
Pure strength favored the Red Knight, but technical mastery was Eloa's domain.
-Kak! Kagagak!
Locked midair for seconds without parting, sword and spear finally separated.
Eloa broke the deadlock first, with a savage swing too crude to call anything but brute force.
Spear arcing one way met sword arcing the opposite—colliding with force beyond mere wrestling.
A shockwave blasted Eloa's hair forward as it boomed.
-Kwaaaaang!
"Kuh!"
Eloa let out a pained grunt.
Even with the power gap, her technical edge should have held.
Her plan: helical strike to pin the spear tip and pierce its heart.
But the wildcard was that 'Red Branch.'
-Kwaang!
Parrying another sweep, Eloa felt her guts twist.
No direct hit.
No overwhelming impact.
Just the distortion power condensed in that red spear.
Each clash sent distortion shockwaves roiling her insides.
This was why Eloa, confident in close quarters and wrestling, first sought to disengage.
Swallowing a groan, she swung again.
Each time, churning shockwaves flooded from sword tip to toes.
Balance failed like ruptured inner ears; vision rippled like submerged water.
Steady breath stuttered; heart pounded erratically.
Started as nausea, but prolonged combat shifted it toward outright pain.
-Whoooong!
Spear sweeping horizontally at her head.
Eloa arched back, dodging.
As the blade grazed overhead, a red barrier traced its path, cascading down on her.
Already off-balance, she twisted desperately to evade.
Even so, the barrier grazed her shoulder, stabbing her brain with pain like her body shredding from within.
"Eup...!"
Eloa endured the fogging agony, barely planting her feet.
She pulled back, checking the wound.
"Haa... haa...!"
The cut was shallow.
She'd feared her arm torn off, but it was mere brush scrape.
Yet this brief skirmish amply warned her vigilance.
Fortified by multiple contracts, her body redefined against distortion—magically and physically a walking fortress.
For such an ethereal form to be wounded by what she'd dismiss as byproduct barrier...
Thinking back, the distortion field's influence had been excessive from the start.
Prior clashes registered it too, but merely queasiness, seasickness at worst.
Not enough to force disengagement like now.
"Hoo..."
The reunited Red Knight was far tougher than expected.
Eloa's magic and attacks specialized in close combat.
Thus, the Red Branch—imposing massive strain just by trading blows—was a poor matchup.
Eloa steadied her shaking mind with deep breaths.
The ripples of agitation cleared to mirror stillness.
Dwelling on it changed nothing.
Assess, decide optimally.
To minimize weapon clashes, she'd need more footwork.
Don't cling to position: yield when pushed, infiltrate when pulled.
Burn another contract?
Pour all remaining mana into this fight?
The Red Knight, holding clear first-move advantage, didn't press—instead retreating and raising its spear, bellowing.
Eloa could only gape in another sense of shock.
From the pitch-black void beneath its crimson helm came sounds eerily akin to human speech.
Homunculi gained sharper egos over long life.
But coherent language with meaning and structure? Unheard of beyond mere cries.
Unintelligible tongue laced with plosives.
Or akin to song?
With a rasp like scraping steel, crimson barriers erupted from the Red Branch.
She braced for attack, but they rooted past her shoulder, embedding everywhere.
"This is...!"
Eloa scanned around.
Space was warping.
Reality eroding.
Even as confluence of five tunnels, the underground space was confined.
Now, it sprawled like a lens-distorted vista, immensely vast.
More eerie: no observable transition.
As if always thus—snapped to upon refocusing.
Eloa scanned the now dome-stadium-sized stormwater tunnel, broader and taller.
"——-Yatholot!"
⟨ Distortion Chant ⟩
The instant the Red Knight slammed its spear tip to the floor.
Barriers embedding in corners vanished in unison.
Silence fell.
"Siu..."
Sudden quiet often heralded grim futures.
Eloa turned to Siu, prepping coordinate-jump escape.
To send him fleeing first.
But Siu was gone.
No mana traces of spells, so not fled ahead.
As Eloa faltered, another anomaly caught her eye.
The White Knights she'd felled.
Scattered wreckage now reassembling like reverse decay.
-Kuh... keuk... kuh kuh...!
The Red Knight cackled its repulsive laugh again.
The Red Branch's power: 'Distortion.'
Divine spear defying fixed pasts, heavens, and cosmic laws—reverse-heavenly.
The Witch of Cowardice had sacrificed thousands of humans and five witches, unlocking its full potential: resurrecting cloned homunculi.
Transcending causality and providence, the phenomenon restored all wrecked homunculi.
Nearly instantaneous—hundreds of White Knights poured from the passages.
Clank clank clank clank clank clank.
Clank clank clank clank clank clank.
Clank clank clank clank clank clank.
Clank clank clank clank clank clank.
Clank clank clank clank clank clank.
Steady bootbeats and clashing arms filled the vast space.
Deafening din as nearly all of Sochi's White Knights converged.
Solely to hunt Eloa Tiphereth.