Chapter 713: Against the Waves
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 713: Against the Waves
The moment Rynox felt an invisible force tightening around his body, he lightly tapped his two swords together.
It was a simple strike, using the sword in his right hand to hammer the one in his left.
Ching!
The sharp ring of metal rippled outward like a blade cutting through the storm.
The faint noise was quickly swallowed by the wild roar of the tempest, but the sound itself didn't matter. He wasn't trying to hear anything with his ears.
His specialty was waves. Imbued with Will, the vibration from the clashing steel sent out a pulse that only Rynox could perceive.
This wave was his secret technique—the very source of his reputation as the finest scout in House Zaun.
Look at these bastards.
In an instant, he located the three Scalers wielding telekinesis. All three were reaching toward him, shielded by a massive, heavily armored Scaler standing at the fore.
They worked in perfect synchronization, their coordination so seamless they might as well have been a single mind.
Did you train them, Hescal?
He wondered if the man could actually communicate with monsters. He was curious, but he doubted he would ever get an answer. A sudden premonition washed over him.
Rynox drove the sword in his right hand into the ground. With a dull thud, the blade sank halfway into the earth.
Leaving it standing at an angle—using the ground as a temporary sheath—he drew a third sword from his back and hurled it forward with all his might.
With a sharp whoosh, the forearm-length blade flew in a straight line. No matter how fierce the storm, it could not deter a hunk of iron thrown with the strength of a knight.
Snatch!
The massive Scaler caught the sword right out of the air. The hardness of its scales was impressive, but its ability to intercept a heavy projectile from a distance was truly astonishing.
“Bullshit.”
Rynox pulled back his outstretched hand.
Grate!
The blade slipped from the Scaler's grasp and flew back toward him. His sword was one that returned at his call.
Whoosh, snap.
The spinning sword settled firmly into Rynox's grip.
The telekinetic bastards were already preparing another trick. He felt the force constricting his body tighten. It was formidable, and highly annoying. Just because a net was tangled around his limbs didn't mean he couldn't move, but the sensation was irritating.
Rynox threw the sword in his hand once more. But this time, he didn't just throw it.
Leaving the sword planted in the ground alone, he drew a new one from his right shoulder. It looked like an ordinary longsword, but a closer look revealed it had no edge.
It resembled a blunt training sword. As he let the weapon hang, its tip dragged along the earth.
Scraaaape!
As he dashed forward, a long furrow was carved into the path behind him. Under the raging storm, it was a trace that would quickly be washed away.
This time, the massive Scaler didn't try to catch the blade; it blocked with the back of its hand. The blade bit into its flesh but didn't penetrate. The beast used its fist as a shield to stop the sword.
It was excellent judgment—or perhaps a primal combat instinct.
The beast blocked the sword with its left hand and gripped the blade with its right. This time, it clearly intended to prevent Rynox from recalling the weapon.
But instead of recalling the sword, its master had already closed the distance, rushing right into the beast's face.
Crack!
This dual-layered attack—throwing a sword and immediately rushing in—was one of Rynox's favorite tactics.
And simply closing the distance wasn't the end of it.
The first sword he threw was named Prey. The sword currently in his right hand was named Hunter.
Prey always did its best to flee from Hunter.
The edgeless longsword swept forward in a short arc.
Clang! Boom!
Hunter had no need for an edge, as its sole purpose was to strike Prey.
When Hunter struck the flat pommel of the previously thrown Prey, overlapping shockwaves erupted, launching Prey forward at twice its original speed.
Boom!
It became a blade-sized arrow, tearing through the air and slicing through the tempest.
Half of the massive Scaler's head, caught awkwardly in the blade's path, exploded. Blood and flesh were instantly swept away by the rain.
Since Prey's true target had been the telekinetic beast behind the giant all along, the sword pierced through the giant's hand and blew apart the head of the creature standing directly behind it.
The creature's attempt to block by bringing its hands together was utterly futile.
When Hunter was held, Prey would not return even if called. This was a method of utilizing Imprinted Weapons through a knight's oath—one of Rynox's personal secret techniques.
After all, didn't everyone have at least one trick that was too dangerous for a friendly spar?
Rynox swung the rapier in his left hand—the other half of his paired weapons—and severed the neck of the Scaler that had only half a head left.
Crunch, slice.
It parted easily, without him even putting much strength into it. Considering the density of a Scaler's body, such a feat should have been impossible, but Rynox's sword possessed a cutting power several times greater than that of an ordinary blade.
The drawback was that despite being an Imprinted Weapon, it broke frequently, but that was something he compensated for with technique. He had even altered his swordsmanship to play to his weapon's strengths.
The defensive style he used—constantly deflecting attacks with his razor-sharp blade while wearing down the opponent's weapon—was born from this very adaptation. Even within House Zaun, it was neither a common tactic nor an ordinary art.
“Next,” Rynox said, sheathing Hunter and reaching out his hand.
Once Hunter was put away, Prey would return. Responding to the Will gathered in his hand, Prey's blade trembled before flying back into his palm.
Prey was incapable of doing anything other than being thrown, returning, or being launched by Hunter's strike. Because of this, he had modified the tip of the sword.
The tip of the Truesilver blade had been specially crafted and coated with diamond. It required immense effort to make, and not just anyone could produce it. Furthermore, it risked shattering if struck improperly from the side.
But Rynox figured it didn't matter as long as he only used it for thrusting and throwing. As for Prey, it was a sword better described as a blunt instrument anyway.
His entire tactical approach was unique and peculiar—a feast of techniques that had long since abandoned any semblance of normalcy.
Using the exact same method, Rynox dispatched the remaining two Scalers that had been binding his body. As he walked back to where his first sword was planted, he threw Prey once more, taking down a winged beast that was aiming for the Clan Head's back by blowing its head apart.
Meanwhile, Tempest Zaun was utterly crushing three monsters with his brutally simple swordplay.
He slammed them headfirst into the ground with the flat of his blade. An Owlbear, driven knee-deep into the muddy earth, had its head and upper body torn, ruptured, and shattered, its remains washed away by the rain.
Watching this, Rynox tapped his swords together once more.
Clang!
By focusing the wave narrowly instead of spreading it wide, he could perceive things much further away. Rynox used this to check on Encrid's side.
Having grasped the general situation through the vibrations, Rynox spoke.
“I should have been the one to go there.”
Looking at the trap Hescal had laid, his intentions were clear. It seemed he had taken various measures specifically to counter Rynox's techniques.
Encrid of the Border Guard—a young man with a promising future. Did he have the strength to break through the trap laid by that sly fox, Hescal?
He didn't know.
Ssssshhhhh.
The downpour remained constant, but the wind had died down slightly. Though the volume of falling water was still immense, even this much of a reprieve made things twice as manageable as before.
“What lies ahead of us is no joke either,” Tempest said.
At Tempest's words, Rynox turned his gaze forward. Suddenly, sour bile surged up his throat, and he retched, vomiting onto the ground.
Even amidst the howling wind and rain, the blood mixed into his vomit was unmistakable.
“I can't hold out much longer,” Rynox said, grinding the vomit into the dirt with his foot.
The medicine Anne had given him allowed his body to endure, but it had a time limit. That was why he had deliberately pushed further ahead than Alexandra or Tempest to fight. By running rampant, he had drawn the enemies with supernatural abilities toward himself.
As a result, the strain on his body had compounded.
Though he made it look easy, each and every one of them was a highly troublesome monster. Because of the beasts hiding their presence to strike from behind, he had to constantly release waves to stay on guard.
“This won't be your grave, Ry,” Tempest said, taking a stance.
Four monsters could be seen striding toward them from ahead.
Crash!
Lightning struck, casting a stark white light. No matter how dark the surroundings, they possessed the eyes of knights. They could already make out the shapes, but the flash of lightning illuminated their opponents with vivid clarity, allowing them to identify the enemy beyond a doubt.
They were four Scalers.
Their bodies were a half-and-half mix of black and red scales. In Rynox's experience, a higher ratio of red scales meant superior supernatural abilities.
Which meant those four would be far more troublesome. Until now, the strongest they had faced only had red scales on a single arm.
“Tempe, it looks like it's time to keep our childhood promise.”
Rynox possessed no gift of foresight, but he knew that even if he survived this battle, there was no path of survival left for him.
“I need time. With just half a year, I can cure you. But your current physical condition is...”
Those were the words Anne had spoken after examining his body and administering various medicines.
Yes, he already knew.
Ever since he took a blow from that bastard Hescal, his illness had deteriorated rapidly. Fevers wracked him, his heart ached, and he coughed up blood as if his internal organs were tearing apart.
Man, this is going to kill me, isn't it? He had joked like that, but deep down, he recognized that this was his end.
What was left now? Many things crossed his mind, but right now, he remembered their childhood promise. That if the time came to die, he would go before Tempest.
Had they not sworn so?
It was an oath made as rivals who had once fought over the same woman, and as lifelong friends who had spent almost every waking moment together since birth.
“Go help Alex,” Tempest said. Since he could not express emotion, he simply spoke with absolute sincerity.
“I don't need it!” Alexandra shouted from more than ten paces away, having somehow overheard. In front of her, black soot coalesced, and a hand clad in a black iron gauntlet crawled out from among the monster corpses.
A Death Knight.
The pinnacle of necromancy, created using the corpse of a knight. Even a lesser Death Warrior was a nightmare to most. A Death Knight was the incarnation of terror, far transcending any mere nightmare.
“I go first. You are the Clan Head,” Rynox repeated.
Tempest's gaze briefly drifted to his wife.
She spoke. “Trust me, Tempe. I am Blitzklinge, the Lightning Blade.”
Indeed, there was a time when Tempest could not even dream of defeating her. Those days had existed.
“Support Rynox. I'll say it again: this won't be your grave.”
Endure. He needed to steel himself with that resolve. The Clan Head believed that every battle had a flow. The moment that flow reversed was the time to decide the match; therefore, now was the time to endure.
Four Scalers stood before Tempest and Rynox. Two held short clubs, while the remaining two wore katars on both hands. Their weapons alone offered a glimpse into their tactics. They had survived many battlefields.
Their weapons were short, and their muscles were tightly packed. The rain falling on their scales seemed to bounce right off. Their primary mode of attack would likely rely on athletic abilities rivaling those of a knight. And they had undoubtedly coated their weapons in poison.
“Hoo.”
Tempest regulated his breathing. Just as his wife trusted him, he had to prove himself worthy of that trust.
“Just watch my back, Rynox.”
From far away, Medusa watched the battlefield. Because of her, a portion of his Will had been suppressed since earlier.
Tempest lowered his head. It was enough to avoid Medusa's gaze while keeping the enemy's feet in sight. Since childhood, he had struggled to learn various fancy techniques. Instead, he possessed the raw strength to wield a simple, heavy sword. That had not changed.
Tempest Zaun's greatsword pointed diagonally into the air. He was ready.
As Rynox stood behind him to guard his back, a familiar voice echoed from among the four Scalers. It was a message from Hescal, who was somewhere in the distance. He seemed to be transmitting only his voice through sorcery.
“Tempe, these four are special monsters. They are the chimera of chimeras, prepared specifically to deal with knights. A genius of alchemy, a monster of the previous generation, spent seventy years perfecting them.”
He wondered why the sudden explanation, but then—
“Stay pinned down by them. I will go kill your son. I don't know where you hid Odinkar, but I will find that child as well.”
Hescal had read a portion of the Clan Head's inner thoughts. Thus, he knew how to shake his resolve.
Rynox felt a flicker of anxiety and glanced at the Clan Head's face, but Tempest remained unchanged. No emotion showed on his face. It was a deficiency of his, but in moments like this, it served as an unshakeable mask.
The moment the voice vanished from the air, the four Scalers lunged forward.
Thud.
Narrowing his eyes, Rynox also turned his back, avoiding Medusa's gaze. From now on, his job was to protect his friend's back. Even if bile boiled up from his guts and made him retch, he had to hold it in.
Otherwise, his head would be severed.
*
“Since we were young, you always talked about 'what's next'.”
Andante was also Alexandra's long-time friend. Now, that friend had cast aside the peace of death, rising once more with black blood pooling in her mouth. She had lost her sanity, driven solely by combat instinct.
Andante, her old friend, had rejected both love and children. All she desired was the next step—the thought of climbing higher.
“What's next? I can do more.”
It was a dream easily corrupted into twisted desire. Yet, it was a dream anyone of Zaun could harbor. Looking at her current state, however, it was safe to call it a failure.
“I will surpass you one day, Alex.”
It was Alexandra who had kept her in check. Neither the continent nor the Empire could allow a swordsman born with an instinctive thirst for slaughter to roam free. Andante had to cut down something with red blood at least once a month, and kill a human at least once every three months. She constantly craved murder.
“Now you can kill to your heart's content, Andante,” Alexandra said.
Hssssssss.
The Death Knight born from the monster's corpse remained silent. Instead, it merely exhaled black steam through its soot-covered visor. Even the wind and rain could not dissipate the vapor, which pierced through the downpour to swirl around the helmet.
It was no mystical sight. It was a spectacle of pure terror that would make anyone's knees buckle.
When a knight died intoxicated by a sense of omnipotence, and a mage deceived that death, the knight became a Death Knight. And then, that knight would possess combat capabilities vastly superior to those they had in life.
Thus, this could never be an easy fight. This was the blade Hescal had prepared specifically for Alexandra.