Chapter 300: Snow Fell Heavily
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 300: Snow Fell Heavily
‘Well, he sure threw a fit at the very end.’
A body tempered by spirit possession and techniques perfected through decades of experience.
The Immortal Madman was indeed no pushover.
Even after a fragment of his skull had been cracked, he had charged, spear in hand. Bleeding profusely, he had tenaciously closed the distance until he was within arm's reach.
"You bastard! Did you think someone like me would go down that easily?!"
Rem was inwardly impressed. Yeah, you should have been like this from the start.
What followed was a bloodbath. It was, quite literally, a blood-spattered struggle for survival.
The short spear pierced through Rem's thermal leather and stabbed deep into his thigh. It was a stroke of luck that he had twisted his foot to dodge at the last second; otherwise, he would have spent the rest of his life as "Limping Rem."
In return, Rem claimed two of his opponent's fingers with his axe. It was only two fingers because the bastard had managed to jerk away; Rem had originally aimed to sever the entire wrist.
Regrets were regrets, but a fight was a fight.
Rem felt a rush of heat. A surge of sheer ecstasy welled up inside him. It had been a long time since he had faced a worthy opponent. Even when Rem unleashed his Heart of Monstrous Strength, his opponent displayed power comparable to a giant. What’s more, the man maintained that monstrous strength continuously through spirit possession.
"How can you do this without sorcery?!"
The Immortal Madman was shocked repeatedly. The first of those shocks had been the Heart of Monstrous Strength.
"A parlor trick!" the man sputtered. It was a testament to how rattled he truly was.
Rem played along, a mocking grin on his face. "Hey, is that really coming out of your mouth, you bastard?"
A parlor trick?
Rem was only using a fragment of strengthening sorcery, whereas his opponent was blending sorcery to perform bizarre, unnatural techniques—and he called Rem’s power a parlor trick? A paaaarlor triiiick?
If it was meant as a provocation, it was a damn good one.
"You motherless bastard," Rem spat in anger.
"My mother died a hundred years ago!"
"Yeah, which is why you don't have one!"
The madman roared in fury. Both of them fought while screaming insults, their voices hoarse. Rem felt the shadow of death several times. His opponent was formidable enough, but the man wasn't the only problem.
Grrr!
A demonic beast reeking of musk lunged at him relentlessly. It circled him, baring its fangs as it looked for any opening. Eventually, Rem was bitten on the arm. Seizing that split second, the Immortal Madman drove down the spear held in both hands with all his might.
With the wolf still hanging onto his arm, Rem swung his axe. He struck the spear, which had drawn a wide semi-circle over his head, altering its trajectory. Despite the powerful deflection, one of the spearheads grazed his flank deeply.
The pain was so sharp that tears welled in his eyes and the hairs on his neck stood on end. It hit right where his ribs were already broken. The Immortal Madman had intentionally concentrated his strength into one of his two spears to deliver a killing blow, and though Rem took the hit, he didn't stop.
Still gripping his axe, Rem crushed the wolf's skull with his free fist. Then, he repeatedly deflected, parried, and dodged the incoming spearheads. Without even a moment to catch his breath, he moved like a man possessed.
In the midst of the chaos, something sticky snagged his foot.
‘Oh?’
Sticking sorcery. The bastard was resorting to this kind of trickery now?
They said old foxes were the craftiest, and the Immortal Madman was proving the adage true. Among prey, the old and cunning ones were always the most troublesome.
Rem channeled strength into his thighs. Sticking sorcery or not, it had to be bound to a specific area.
Boom!
He kicked off the ground, shattering the frozen earth and leaping sideways while swinging his axe in a brutal arc. With that single strike, he killed three demonic beasts targeting him. To be precise, two died as their necks and chests were slashed open, and the third had its forehead split down to the jaw.
Rem anticipated the brutal struggle to continue, but...
...he was disappointed. At the same time, he saw the opening for victory.
The Immortal Madman fled. He pulled back, leaping backward with unnatural speed. The attacks that followed were half-hearted. If Rem could block spearheads swung directly by hand, these desperate thrusts were nothing.
At the very end, it was that same trick again: a throwing spear attached to a thread.
‘Ah, this bastard.’
The excitement that had been boiling inside Rem instantly cooled.
Clang!
As he deflected the spear with the flat of his axe, he saw his "senior" from back home leaping far away into the treeline. The spear flew back to the man like a bird returning to its nest.
The coward shouted from the distance. "The next time I see you, you are dead!"
‘Oh, cut the crap. If we meet next time, is it really going to be me who dies? Or you?’
With a disgruntled face, Rem brought his axe straight down onto the head of a charging demonic beast.
Boom!
The axe strike split the beast's body vertically in two, from head to tail.
"Fuck, I get it now. He probably survived this long because he runs away whenever things go south."
Should he chase him down and kill him? He could, but it was too much trouble. The mood was completely ruined. He just wasn't feeling it anymore.
While Rem was merely feeling deflated... for the Wolf Bishop, it was an entirely different story.
"Hey! Where are you going?!"
The bishop was so shocked he couldn't even hide his bewilderment. His face was painted with sheer panic. It was so obvious that even Teresa could easily tell. Because he had gaped his mouth open in shock while speaking, the wound on his head—which he had barely managed to hold closed—burst open again.
Dark red blood trickled down his cheek, dripping from his chin onto the snow.
There was no reply. The Immortal Madman simply vanished. He didn't even offer a single word of apology. Of course, even if he had, the bishop's blood pressure would have spiked so high that blood would have erupted from his head like a fountain anyway.
"Brother Bishop, it is time to go."
The bishop grimaced at the title and turned around. Standing there was the limping half-giant. Her shield was shattered, with only half of it remaining, and her sword was cracked down the middle.
"You apostate bitch. I will curse you even in death," the Wolf Bishop spat. He felt utterly wronged.
This was supposed to be a winning battle. No matter how formidable the enemy was, they had the Immortal Madman, a man famous across the continent, and himself, a bishop of the Demonic Path. On top of that, he had brought his soul companion, the Dire Wolf.
Yet, how did it end up like this? He should have easily defeated that bitch Teresa.
But he hadn't. Everything had gone awry. Instead of sighing or looking up at the sky, the bishop muttered with his final breath of malice: "Miserable bastards."
He had felt the death of the Dire Wolf bound to his soul moments ago. There was no hope left.
"I will curse you all for eternity. Your flesh will rot and fester, and you will not find an easy death. The God of the Demonic Path will never forgive you! And you, Immortal Madman, you bastard... I will never forgive you either!"
His final resentment was directed at his former ally. Seeing the man who should have saved him run away made his stomach turn with loathing.
"Yes. Go immerse yourself in the rivers of hell. I will see you there later."
"I'll be waiting!"
Teresa finally finished him, crushing the bishop's skull. A heavy strike with the pommel of her broken sword was the fatal blow.
As Teresa adjusted her blood-stained mask and stood up, she saw Rem limping toward her.
"You're back?"
"Of course I'm back, where else would I go? Where's the Captain?"
There was no heartwarming scene of them supporting each other. The two simply trudged along. Neither of their bodies was in perfect condition, but they weren't on the verge of death either. Supporting each other? Like hell they would.
A wild horse trotted up beside them.
"Did you fight too?" Rem asked.
Neigh!
At Odd-Eye's response, Rem pouted. "Even a damn horse fights, yet that human bastard ran away."
He was still full of complaints. The mood had been ruined just when he was getting into the flow. Such an experience was truly rare—especially since his opponent was of the same race and had even held the advantage.
‘We'll definitely meet again, old man,’ Rem swore to himself.
There were those who had watched their battle from the sidelines: the heavy infantry and the cavalry. The mercenary leading the cavalry realized his place anew.
‘Let's never cross them.’
And never complain about training being hard.
If you challenge them, you die. That's a certainty. I can tell just by watching them fight the enemy.
Let's be careful around that quiet-looking, giant woman too.
He had never looked down on her before, but now, the way he viewed her had completely changed.
In the past, people might have shrunk back in horror after witnessing a fight between Rem and Teresa. They displayed such overwhelming, inhuman power that it was natural to feel a sense of distance. It instilled a sensation akin to fear, even in their own comrades.
But this time was different.
Both of them were limping. The horse walking beside them looked the most intact. If not for those two, the soldiers knew they might have been completely wiped out. Relief, joy, and the triumph of victory surged through the ranks.
"Mad Company."
"Rem... Rem of the Axe."
"Rem of the Mad Axe."
"He didn't die."
"He's alive."
"The Immortal Rem?"
Someone's murmur solidified into a nickname. Meanwhile, Rem picked his ear. What are they blabbering about?
Soon, the soldiers shouted in unison. "Immortal Rem!"
They thought he was dead, but he had returned and driven the enemy away. It was a massive upgrade from his previous nickname, "Rem of the Dog-like Temper."
"Immortal Rem! The Rem who doesn't die!"
"The undying madman!"
"Waaaaah!"
Most of the demonic beasts had already been slain, as this was the most advantageous battlefield for the humans. The remaining beasts scattered following the deaths of the Dire Wolf and the bishop. Without a focal point, demonic beasts would not gather.
Cheering and shouting, the soldiers moved toward the center of the battlefield.
"Damn, they're noisy as hell," Rem grumbled, still picking his ear.
"Wandering Teresa!" the soldiers chanted, using the identity she habitually claimed.
Holding her mask in place with one hand, she raised her other hand. It was an action born of a genuine stirring in her heart. Back when she was in the cult, she had been so taciturn that she sometimes wouldn't utter a single word for an entire week. But not anymore.
"I am Wandering Teresa."
Here, she was different. She had changed. Having learned of joy and happiness, everything looked different to her.
"Wandering Teresa!"
Everyone chanted her name in unison. It sounded quite pleasant to her ears.
"What are you doing? Immortal Rem!" Rem spoke, perhaps out of petty annoyance.
And the crowd of soldiers echoed it once more. "Immortal Rem!"
It was a childish display. Regardless, where the two headed, Encrid, Ragna, and Audin were waiting. Ragna was relatively unscathed, but Audin was not. His entire body was covered in minor wounds, and his left arm hung completely limp.
"Is it broken?" Rem asked.
"It's just sprained. I couldn't very well exert all my strength just to catch a single dog. You, on the other hand, seem to have taken quite a beating, Brother."
"Yeah, just a few grazes. I was showing some respect to the elderly."
Teresa remained silent. Ragna stared blankly at them before speaking. "They're all so weak. Dragging kids like this around only makes more work for you, Captain."
"...Fuck, why did I let that brat live?" Rem grumbled.
Audin clenched his fist with a smile. "It seems our brother yearns for the embrace of the Lord."
Watching this, Encrid swept his hair back. It was all nonsense. He looked at Rem. "Stop fooling around."
"Why? Did you get beaten to a pulp because I wasn't around?"
"Weren't you the one who got beaten up?"
"I was just going easy on him because he's an old man."
"I see."
"What the... why is it already over the moment I get back? I was just about to have some fun."
With that body?Encrid's face said it all. He remained expressionless, but the message was clear.
Rem yelled, "Don't you know me? I'm just getting started! Do you not know who I am?!"
As he spoke, he opened his palm behind his back, signaling. A few quick-witted commanders hastily opened their mouths.
"Immortal Rem!"
Hearing that, the others shouted again. "Immortal Rem!"
Good grief, look at them go.Encrid chuckled softly and shook his head.
"The enemy camp is acting strange."
Castellan Graham's adjutant spoke from among them. Encrid replied without even looking. "It's the work of one of my soldiers."
"Pardon?"
There was no need to explain. It was Sachsen. He could have killed Viscount Tarnin long ago, but he had been biding his time. When would his death be most effective? Sachsen was clever.
Would the battle end immediately just because the enemy commander was dead? No. There were still survivors. Among them were several high-ranking mercenaries. They only seemed lesser when compared to Encrid and the Mad Company; from an ordinary perspective, their strength was incomparable to regular soldiers.
They had thought: ‘Since justification is on our side...’
They only needed to keep Viscount Tarnin alive and retreat. That way, they could hold onto their justification and maintain a threatening position. Some among them even knew of Azpen's existence. They would pull back for now and let the Border Guard fight Azpen. They could always instigate another territory war later. They would face a depleted Border Guard from a highly advantageous position.
The clever ones had reached this conclusion. They had intended to seek out the Viscount first, but... before they knew it, Viscount Tarnin's head was already impaled on a pike.
"...When the hell did that pig die?" the clever mercenary muttered, dumbfounded.
He was also incredibly unlucky. Sachsen didn't even need to use a magic artifact to conceal his presence. He simply disguised himself in the enemy's uniform and moved through the crowd. Among them, he identified those capable of rallying the troops and gifted them a "red necklace."
He gave the same gift to the nameless, clever mercenary.
It was simple: he placed a uniquely shaped dagger—dull on the outer edge but razor-sharp on the inner curve—against the neck and pulled. He grabbed the startled mercenary's wrist, and his right hand drew a semi-circle, slicing across the throat.
As the blade was pulled, a red necklace formed. The mercenary bled out and died. Sachsen had already killed seven men this way. This was enough. He quietly withdrew.
Thinking that the Captain surely wouldn't have died just because he had stepped away for a moment, he returned to the main unit. He saw Encrid, and beside him, a ghost.
"It's a ghost. We must perform an exorcism immediately. I think a few daggers should do the trick."
"...Why does it feel like that stray cat of a brat is talking about me?" the barbarian "ghost" said.
Sachsen strongly advocated for ghost extermination once more, but his plea was ignored. Instead, he only received a "blessing" from the crazy barbarian holding the axe.
"You're the one who should die. Go drop dead."
Sachsen ignored him. He had done his job, and the Captain was perfectly fine.
"I really thought we were going to die this time," Krais said.
Encrid looked indifferently at the big-eyed soldier. Krais, who hadn't slept properly for days, offered a weary smile. "We got lucky. Truly. It feels as if the Goddess of Fortune gave us a kiss."
As Krais spoke, white snow began to fall heavily over his head. It had started around the time the battle ended. The sleet had transformed into a heavy snowfall.
"Do you actually like this?" Rem said grumpily. The Devil's Dung Powder was falling relentlessly.
Sachsen and Audin shared the same look of annoyance, but... Encrid did not. He understood immediately.
"As expected, the Captain is sharp."
When Krais spoke, Rem fumed, saying, "Right, let's gouge those eyes out today," but it was merely a minor commotion.
The snow was pouring down. Even those in the midst of battle would have to reorganize their ranks. In other words...
"We've bought some time," Krais voiced the thought in everyone's mind.
The pouring snow was a stroke of luck that would halt Azpen's movements. They had bought the time needed to recover and reorganize their ranks.