Chapter 770: He Who Builds an Iron Wall, Cuts a Fortress Wall
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 770: He Who Builds an Iron Wall, Cuts a Fortress Wall
His Will surged with a frantic energy. There were few things in the world more exhilarating than this, and his Will thrived on it.
Sometimes, Encrid felt as though his Will escaped his control, moving of its own accord. This was one of those moments. But if asked whether that was a bad thing, his answer would have been a resounding no.
‘The desires of my subconscious.’
Such desires were projected directly into his Will. In its underlying structure and principles, it never strayed far from that fundamental truth. His drifting thoughts spawned a dozen fleeting notions, but they soon converged into a single, sharp point.
‘Cut.’
He gathered his wildly surging Will into that singular focus. Responding to his intent, the Will circulated through his entire body, passing through his arms and fingers, traveling down the grip of his sword, and flowing into the blade.
‘An imprinted weapon is but an extension of my own hand.’
It truly felt that way. It was only natural for his Will to flow into Dawn Forge and dwell there. He held a steady breath, half-closing his eyes as he stared at the fortress wall.
From a distance, Ragna, clutching Sunrise, watched his commander. In his eyes, the Will gathered on Encrid’s Dawn Forge was condensing endlessly, growing thicker and heavier by the second.
"What an amusing thing to do," Ragna murmured.
Sinar, who had been watching Encrid charge forward, ceased her idle movements. She was much like Ragna; since she had already been keeping a close eye on him, she had noticed Encrid’s shift even faster.
The air of the Demon Realm was poison to an elf. She only endured it because she possessed vital energy on par with a knight; otherwise, an elf wouldn't even be able to set foot here. This place was filled with a truly foul atmosphere, a suffocating weight upon the chest.
Yet, as she watched Encrid grip his sword, she felt as if the scent of the forest’s vital energy was wafting toward her from somewhere. It might have been a trace of the power she herself had infused into the blade when it was forged, or perhaps her sensitive elven senses were anticipating what was about to unfold.
Whichever it was, the reason didn't matter to Sinar.
An ordinary person might have gasped in horror at what Encrid was doing, but Sinar was filled only with the desire to cheer on the madman leading the charge. After all, wasn't that the proper attitude to have toward one’s lover?
Above all, Sinar trusted this man.
Where he walked, a path would open; where he aimed, light would shine. The sword that would protect the child of the forest and flowers surely held vital energy. She felt like humming an elven song. Instead of singing, she whispered, her words reflecting her heart.
"Cut them down, my fiancé."
No one heard her whisper. Even Pel, who was busy blocking arrows, and Ropode, who was fighting off monsters, had their attention drawn to Encrid.
Is what that guy is about to do really what I think it is?
The same thought crossed both Pel’s and Ropode’s minds. Even as the monsters lunged at them, a part of everyone’s consciousness remained fixed on him.
Knowing his sword would not break, Encrid poured his inexhaustible Will into it with all his might. The intangible power born of his willpower surged through his veins like a flood. All of it flowed into the sword. Dawn Forge accepted it effortlessly.
It was enough to make him feel momentarily drained, but he regulated the flow to prevent a collapse. Then, Encrid pressed his imprinted weapon against the fortress wall.
Screeech—!
The blade, held parallel to the ground, bit knuckle-deep into the thorn-encrusted fortress wall. Gripping the hilt with both hands, he steadied his breathing. His mind was clear of stray thoughts. His intense focus was so sharp that blue rings seemed to form within his pupils.
Uwooooh! Uwooh! Aaaargh!
Screaming in agony, the wall sprouted awl-like thorns to impale him, while whip-like vines lashed out to bind the madman standing before it. As if to evade them, Encrid took a step.
He ran. He sprinted with his sword still embedded in the wall. It wasn't a mere drag; the blade was fully coated in his concentrated Will.
As Encrid ran, the wall exploded behind him with a deafening roar. Screeech! The struggling wraiths trapped within the structure shrieked in agony.
Craaaashhhhh!
The sound of destruction dragged on as long as he ran. Encrid carved Dawn Forge along the lower section of the wall, following the direction of his sprint. Black blood splattered as the base of the thorn wall was sliced, ruptured, shattered, and crushed. A faint, whitish smoke rose from the ruin. But whatever it was, everything that had a beginning also had an end.
Encrid stopped. Steam rose from his shoulders as he came to a halt.
Flutter! His dark green cloak, which had stretched out during his dash, billowed in the wind before wrapping back around his shoulders.
A long, deep gouge stretched across the thorn wall, marking the path of his run. A moment later, the ground trembled, and the wall began to sway, tilting backward.
Ruuuumble.
With a low groan from the earth, a massive section of the fortress wall fell away.
It was a magnificent sight—a spectacle that made one wonder if such a feat could truly be accomplished by human hands. The collapsing wall seemed surreal, but the vibrations and shockwaves proved beyond a doubt that this was no dream.
As the fallen wall slammed into the earth, its immense weight announced itself with a thunderous roar.
BOOM!
A sound and pressure wave capable of bursting eardrums swept across the area. The tremors shook everything. It felt like an earthquake. The ground trembled violently as a portion of the fortress wall collapsed backward along the path of Encrid’s strike.
The stone blocks wedged between the thorns shattered and crumbled, kicking up a thick cloud of gray dust. Even in the Demon Realm, dust did not turn black or purple. A rock was simply a rock. Over the purple earth of the Demon Realm, even in the pitch-black darkness of the night, the dust billowed upward. A pale, ghostly shroud blanketed the area, painting over the darkness.
A brief silence hung between the roaring crash and the rising dust. Even the attacking monsters seemed inclined to retreat, startled by the noise and vibration. Everyone froze in shock, utterly speechless.
Can the man who builds an iron wall also cut down a fortress?
Eyes filled with that very astonishment converged on Encrid. Still, they were the mad knights. They were startled, but not so shocked as to lose their wits.
"He didn't breach it; he cut it down?" Pel muttered. Even through the swirling dust, Pel had seen it, his pupils trembling in disbelief. How is that even possible?
His words carried that disbelief, but it wasn't just simple surprise. To be more precise, it was a spark of inspiration.
"You asked what we could do?!" Luagarne’s shout perfectly captured their sentiment.
Thump—
Their hearts raced, filled with sudden, wild excitement. Damn, he can do that? That’s actually possible? The thought sparked a thrill that made them purely ecstatic.
Instead of a battle cry, a booming, frog-like croak erupted from Frok’s mouth. His voice rang out across the battlefield, throwing the question back at the enemy.
Audin paused his relentless pummeling for a moment.
‘Brother.’
It was a feat that commanded pure admiration. Cutting a fortress wall with a sword. Rather than feeling competitive, Audin wanted to show something of his own in tribute to the magnificent feat his brother had displayed. Before him lay a section of the wall that his fists had already cracked.
"O Lord."
He threw himself into the gap he had shattered. It was a place that could well be called a writhing, tangled jungle of thorns.
"Crazy bastard," Ropode muttered in shock as he watched.
In his eyes, Audin had just dived straight into the writhing, regenerating thorn wall. The moment Audin entered, the wall’s regenerative power multiplied, exerting its full strength to trap him. To make matters worse, the thorn vines tangled and twisted, completely sealing the entrance Audin had used.
Two breaths later, the hole was sealed shut. But soon, beams of light began to leak through the gaps of the wall—a grotesque tangle of distorted wraith faces, thorn vines, and crushed stone.
The beams of light streaming from the hole grew thicker and multiplied. Soon, the scattered rays converged and exploded.
The white light—the Holy Light itself—made no sound. There was only the deafening roar of the structures collapsing as they were scorched by the radiance.
Rumble.
The ground shook as a portion of the breached wall crumbled, raining thorn vines and stone fragments onto the earth. A ballista monster that Sachsen hadn't managed to finish off was swept up in the collapse and fell with a heavy thud, splattering black blood in all directions.
Dodging the cascading debris, everyone turned their gaze toward Audin. If Encrid had sliced the wall, Audin had blasted a massive hole right through it.
"Ha, ha, ha! This is exhilarating, Brother!"
The glowing armor over his naturally robust frame was his signature. The thick thorn vines and the stones etched with wraiths that covered him had frozen mid-scream, their mouths agape. Despite the grotesque sight, Audin wore a broad, beaming smile. It was a look of absolute bliss.
"The Lord awaits you in heaven."
The bizarre shrieks and curses spewing from the wall ceased completely. The thorn vines that had resisted until the very end went limp.
"What in the world are these crazy bastards..."
Only then did the figure who had been taunting them earlier finally show himself. A Demonic Spirit followed behind him, and Encrid realized for the first time that an elf’s eyes could actually widen that much.
Ah, but perhaps they are already a different species from elves.
Since they fed on vital energy, they were elves, but because they lived in the Demon Realm, they were called Demonic Spirits. With a longbow in its left hand and a needle-like sword at its hip, the Demonic Spirit’s eyes locked onto Encrid. Meanwhile, Sinar glared at the creature.
To an outsider, it might have looked like a steady gaze, but Encrid, who had grown familiar with elven expressions, knew it was a fierce, murderous glare.
"You rotten, mutated thing," Sinar spat.
The Demonic Spirit glanced at Sinar, but it was far more bewildered by the scene unfolding before its eyes. What kind of crazy human slices a fortress wall with a sword and smashes it with his bare fists?
Yet, here stood those very madmen.
"You guys... seriously..."
The man—whether he was the Castellan, a Shaman, or the Apostle of the Red Toe—couldn't even finish his sentence. Seriously, what kind of freaks are these?
Luagarne puffed out her cheeks in satisfaction. Frok, doing the same, spoke up.
"Well? There is the answer to your question. That is what we can do."
The Castellan scanned his surroundings. Judging by the dead monsters and the lack of any signals, the three Demonic Spirits atop the wall were likely dead as well. It was absurd, but that didn't mean he had forgotten his duty. Besides, this wasn't the first time a wall had collapsed.
"Kill them," he commanded.
The moment the words left his mouth, dark figures surged from the shadows behind Audin and Encrid. They were Demonic Spirits specialized in assassination, possessing purple skin, wavy daggers, and an incredible ability to suppress sound, scent, and presence.
Sachsen assessed the two; they were skilled enough to hold their own even among the Daggers of Geor.
Two shadows rose, and a third shadow—an ally’s—rose right behind one of the assassins. Sachsen slashed his stiletto across the throat of the one reaching for Audin.
At the same moment the wet slice of a throat echoed, a dull thud rang out from the head of the one targeting Encrid. It was the sound of a thrown Silence Dagger embedding itself. The creature with the dagger buried in its skull made a futile stabbing motion in the air before collapsing.
"Was that necessary?" Encrid asked, looking back. He had left Dawn Forge where it was and rested his left hand on Penna. He could have blocked it even if left alone. He was highly focused, and though he had poured his Will into cutting the wall, he hadn't exhausted it completely.
"I suppose thanks aren't necessary?" Audin was in a similar state. He might have taken a hit, but his entire body was still enveloped in Holy Light. What he wore was not some blade manifested from Will, but an armor forged of Holy Light that no ordinary steel could pierce.
"Felt like my own business," Sachsen replied nonchalantly.
The Castellan, Shaman, or whatever true resident of the Demon Realm who served the Red Toe, was no longer even surprised.
Right. So none of you are easy targets, are you?