Chapter 768: The Name of the Spasm is Sachsen
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 768: The Name of the Spasm is Sachsen
"What the..."
One of the indigo-skinned elves—now a demonic spirit—spoke as he watched the scene unfolding in the distance.
He didn't sound particularly surprised. He had witnessed divine power countless times before. Still, spreading it so thin to create such a wide barrier was an unorthodox tactic.
Naturally, the Thorn Castle Lord was not the only resident of the Thorn Fortress. There were several others. In addition to the monsters led by the Castellan, there were research assistants, two mages skilled in forbidden arts, and several mindless monsters that fought with the prowess of knights.
Among them, three demonic spirits stood watch atop the battlements. Their role was to report any incidents and harass intruders. More precisely, they were meant to thoroughly beat down the intruders to drain their strength, then present the exhausted "materials" to the Castellan.
That was their duty.
For elves, they were quite expressive. This was because they had discarded their elven nature after being subsumed by the Demon Realm. They exchanged words as they watched the distant wall of white light.
"A desperate struggle."
"The squirming of mortals is always a fine spectacle."
"They must think it's over just because they blocked the plague ghouls."
"Divine power... hmph."
All three demonic spirits had saturated their bodies with the energy of the Demon Realm—commonly known as demonic energy—instead of elven essence. Consequently, one of the three possessed the ability to dominate the minds of monsters, while the other two were master archers. Naturally, they knew how to imbue their arrows with demonic energy.
Of course, they were far inferior to the archer who had first targeted Encrid’s group. That was why they had been relegated to sentry duty.
Furthermore, being corrupted did not mean their innate elven talents had vanished. They still possessed exceptionally agile bodies.
"We must skin that bitch with the divine power and examine her. Is a half-giant's skin tough as well? If so, it will be useful for making chimeras."
A giant's skin was like rock. If hers was the same, it would be useful in many ways.
These creatures possessed a cruelty never seen in normal elves. Whether this was due to the influence of the Demon Realm, the time they had spent here, or both, no one knew. They also believed that by breaking free from being children of the forest to become the adopted children of the Demon Realm, they had gained physical strength and talent superior to normal elves.
However, even to human eyes, they were clearly different from true elves.
They're dull.
The difference was even more stark when compared to Sinar or the elves of the elven city who had migrated to the Border Guard.
True elves were beings who would not harm even a single blade of grass, choosing instead to nurture it. Believing that their acute sensitivity could conversely harm them, they restrained and controlled their emotions.
But the elves before him were not like that. They wore their emotions on their sleeves and did not hesitate to perform disgusting biological experiments. They were no longer sensitive like true elves.
Sachsen did not know the specifics of their history. He merely realized that the targets caught in his senses were far duller than expected.
And that was more than enough.
As soon as Sachsen cut down a couple of plague ghouls, he moved against the flow, heading straight into the oncoming horde of monsters. Quietly slipping past monsters that wanted nothing more than to sew their mouths shut and detonate themselves was a feat even Encrid would find impossible.
But Sachsen could do it.
The air of the Demon Realm is different.
Once he understood that difference, all he had to do was adapt.
Assimilation—a technique exclusive to knights, and a skill referred to as 'Blur' by the Dagger of Geor. It was named for the way it made one's body appear faint and indistinct.
In truth, what did a name matter?
There is no meaning in drawing distinctions.
He had realized this long ago.
He moved against the tide, hiding his presence among the ghouls. Keeping his posture low and his feet moving nimbly, he ran along the outer edge of the horde. Then, spotting the thorn-shrouded wraiths glowing on the Thorn Castle Wall, he leaped into the air.
Several evil spirits reached out to block him, but it was futile. Sachsen used their very hands as stepping stones to scale the wall. A few wraiths let out bizarre, screeching wails, half-emerging from the stone to grab him, but Sachsen drew a divinity-infused dagger from his breast and swept it back and forth, repelling them.
Screeech!
An evil spirit shrieked as it perished, but its voice was drowned out by the song of the wraiths echoing from the Thorn Castle Wall. Only a few sensitive ones reacted.
In this manner, Sachsen even deceived the gaze of the wraiths. To him, this was only natural. This was the art he had trained in his entire life.
Of course, if they had been as sensitive as true elves, even he would have been caught. This success was the result of several overlapping factors. They were dull, and the Demon Realm fortress known as the Thorn Castle had never faced such a full-scale intrusion before.
In the past, a few knights had known of this fortress's existence, but they had judged that nothing could be done about it immediately. Attacking alone would be suicide, and gathering a full force would leave them short-handed elsewhere. Above all, these creatures had not caused any immediate problems, seemingly content to stay quietly inside the Demon Realm.
All of these factors culminated in the current situation. Sachsen had instinctively exploited every single one of their blind spots to reach this point.
Spotting the three sentries watching from the wall, he slipped behind them. Holding the weapons known as stilettos in both hands, he punched holes into the back of two of their necks.
From their perspective, it was an absolute nightmare.
"...!"
The remaining sentry turned around, his eyes wide with shock, unable to even make a sound. To him, it looked as though a shadow had suddenly risen and stabbed his two companions.
He swung his longbow like a club. Sachsen moved like flowing water. As he retreated, the bodies of the two who should have been dead suddenly jerked and stopped mid-fall.
Sachsen's gaze shifted. This was not the typical reaction of someone who had been stabbed. Still, there was no need to be surprised. This was the Demon Realm. Anything could happen here.
The two stabbed elves stopped with their waists half-bent, then lifted their heads. A sickening crack echoed as the bones in their necks ground against each other. Moving like broken dolls, their eyes lost focus until only the whites remained.
Then, from the holes Sachsen had pierced in their necks, flesh bubbled and swelled with a gurgling sound. Instead of black blood, a new organ formed. A long mass of flesh sagged to the ground, writhing like a giant serpent.
Since something growing out of a neck couldn't really be called a tail or an arm, what should it be called? A neck-hand? A neck-tail?
Regardless, the deformed demonic spirits' new organs slumped to the ground, contracting and relaxing muscle tissue. In an instant, the tips of the fleshy masses sharpened and lunged toward Sachsen.
It was as fast as an arrow. Sachsen's eyes tracked the newly formed organs. Prominent black veins showed through the indigo flesh, looking like thick, pulsing earthworms.
Sachsen dodged and slashed with his stiletto.
Slasht.
Even in those mutated, aberrant organs, there were gaps that functioned like joints, and he sliced right through them. It was the art of the Soft Sword, utilizing the opponent's own momentum. It was the pinnacle of the Sword of Chance—a calm, effortless stroke, as if he had anticipated every move.
If Encrid had been here, he would have clapped in admiration at Sachsen's incredible eye and his mastery of redirection.
Black blood splattered from Sachsen's slash, but the aberrant organs ignored the wounds, whipping around like snakes to aim for the back of his head.
"You bastard..."
Meanwhile, the third demonic spirit notched an arrow to his longbow. But the moment he moved, a blade struck him square in the forehead.
Thwack!
The crisp sound of a blade splitting a skull rang out. It was a Silence Dagger thrown by Sachsen as he dodged.
As Sachsen evaded the two flesh-worms, the pupils of the one struck in the forehead also dilated. The light faded from his eyes, and his body began to shudder. Sachsen observed them once more.
A curse? Or is death itself the trigger?
It seemed as though something had been implanted in their bodies to make them function this way. Although the falling darkness restricted vision, Sachsen was someone who found the dark more comfortable. He had no trouble perceiving his surroundings; any deficiency in sight was compensated for by his other five senses.
As he watched, the Silence Dagger embedded in the forehead was pushed out on its own.
Rattle, clack.
The dagger fell to the ground. Then, flesh sprouted from the hole in the forehead, forming another organ identical to the ones currently targeting him.
Even amidst this, Sachsen did not stop observing. He noticed an anomaly. What he had assumed to be veins bulging on the surface of the fleshy serpents were not veins at all. Those thick lines broke through the skin, and atop them, black flowers bloomed.
They implanted some kind of cursed seed.
Then what was currently moving them? Will was at work. Sachsen's Will was directed differently compared to other knights. His Will, which stimulated his five senses, went beyond mere observation; it delved deep, contemplating their inner workings.
To move even after life has ended...
They would have to be undead or evil spirits. Having fought the plague ghouls below, he felt he understood the enemy's preferences.
They implanted evil spirits of plague inside the ghouls.
For these elves, they had used a peculiar plant that grew in the Demon Realm.
Highly developed senses could achieve things akin to magic. To Sachsen, this was only natural, but to others, it was astonishing. His eyes perceived a black, pulsing, oval-shaped entity inside each of the three mutated lifeforms.
Black powder drifted from the flowers blooming on the organs protruding from their necks. It was a deadly poison that could intoxicate even a knight if inhaled and kill an ordinary person upon skin contact. However, Sachsen had been exposing his body to hundreds of poisons since childhood.
Not that he intended to inhale an unfamiliar toxin. He pulled out a small cowl and covered his mouth. It was a Spell Object made in the elven city that purified the air. Even during his days in the Mad Platoon, he had established trade routes here and there. He had managed to obtain what he needed even from the elven city—something no one, including Encrid, knew about.
With his respiratory system protected, the poison contacting his skin was of no concern.
The thrashing of the fleshy serpents—bending, twisting, scattering powder, and slicing through the air—was far less threatening than the axe swings of a mad barbarian. Through his past clashes with those madmen, his ability to fight head-on had improved significantly.
Though he hated to admit it, those crazy bastards had actually been of some help.
Sachsen slipped through the gaps in their attacks, located the seeds inside the three bodies, and pierced them.
Controlling information was the fundamental basis of combat. He fully agreed with Luagarne's words. Sachsen had set out for this very purpose; because of his actions, the events unfolding at the front of the castle would be delayed in reaching the inner sanctum.
Sachsen was satisfied. While this wasn't the first time he was using his strength for something other than killing for Krona, it would be a lie to say he wasn't enjoying himself. He was being helpful to someone, and that someone was marching toward a grand ideal.
He heard his master's voice, speaking like an illusion.
"Yeah, you brat, that's a good look on you. Use your natural talent. But use it for what you believe is right. I've told you hundreds of times, aren't your ears bleeding yet?"
His master's tone had always been lighthearted. He knew now it was because he himself was so gloomy.
I know.
The words he had heard so often were only now engraved upon his heart.
When had it all begun? Sachsen had learned what was "right" by watching Encrid. Therefore, anyone blocking the path ahead of Encrid was an enemy.
And right on cue, that "rightness" and the rest of the group were approaching the front of the castle.
* * *
Normally, the exploding plague ghouls should have made the air so foul that even approaching the fortress would be impossible, but Teresa's hymn purified the path they walked.
Encrid's gaze drifted upward. He saw a few lingering shadows suddenly collapse one by one. In a way, it looked as though they had suddenly suffered a spasm and fallen, but even without being told, he knew that the name of that spasm was Sachsen.
What on earth is that?
The shapes of the fallen figures began to mutate, and a fight broke out. Only then did Sachsen's shadow become visible.
Should I help?
The hesitation was brief, and he did not act. There was no need. Before long, the three mutated lifeforms collapsed to the ground, crumbling away.
Though he had no idea why serpent-like things had sprouted from what looked like elven bodies, the path was clear.