Chapter 797: Extinguishing the Embers
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 797: Extinguishing the Embers
Ragna knew his limit was fast approaching. At this rate, he would wither and die.
The battle was like a precariously stacked stone tower. A slightly stronger gust of wind would topple it; even the curious touch of a child’s fingertip would bring it crashing down. If even one person lost their balance or collapsed, the Balrog would go on a frenzied rampage, and that would be the end of them all.
Yet, Encrid remained unchanged. His expression didn't flicker, and his eyes were still as crazed as ever.
Thuck!
A moment ago, Ragna’s sword had carved a hole in the Balrog’s abdomen. It was a solid thrust. The resistance transmitted through the blade of Sunrise told him he had pierced the creature's true form.
‘Why?’
Ragna had imbued the strike with the absolute will to pierce, but at the final moment, he felt the Balrog’s own intent mix with his.
In other words, the creature had allowed itself to be stabbed. All his questions were condensed into that single word: Why?
Not that he had the luxury to ask.
As it turned out, the Balrog, seemingly unsatisfied with merely enduring the blow, made an unexpected gamble.
They say one gives up flesh to take bone, but for this monster, it was a gain even if it sacrificed both.
And that was exactly what it did.
With a hole in its stomach from Sunrise, it attempted to crush Encrid’s shin. It was a familiar attack pattern, but the unpredictability lay in the Balrog’s bold, resolute decision-making.
Despite its abdominal muscles being torn and its intestines spilling out, the Balrog's thigh muscles moved perfectly. Its toes aimed for Encrid’s shin once more.
To keep the sophisticated gears of their coordination from grinding to a halt, no one could afford to forget their role.
Audin could not block beyond the scope of the established balance, and Rem, providing cover from a distance, could not suddenly charge in.
At this timing, there was no one to intercept the kick intended for Encrid. Sinar, watching from the periphery, instinctively tried to throw herself forward, but the Elf currently lacked the technique to close such a distance in time.
It seemed inevitable that Encrid would lose a leg.
And with that, it seemed this fight would also reach its end.
The two swords Encrid held were already extended to block the Balrog’s Urt and a portion of the Salamandra’s split whip.
So, instead of wasting strength trying to pull his blades back, he lifted his foot and met the Balrog’s kick with his sole.
He balanced on one leg, redirecting the force. No matter how good the technique, it was a defense that was already a step behind. Even if he blocked it, it seemed certain his shin muscles would twist or his bones would be crushed.
But once again, Encrid held his ground. He even muttered a single word.
“Endure.”
He was throwing back the words the Balrog had spoken on some other 'today.'
The transformation of Will—flowing from Endure to Iron Armor and then to Indules—manifested outside his body. If he could project Will through a sword, why couldn't he do it through his own flesh?
Encrid mimicked Audin’s Holy Light Shield, which he had observed countless times. If maintained, the Will became so heavy it actually hindered combat, but for a single moment of defense, it was perfect.
That was how he blocked it. Of course, his shinbone would have shattered if he had taken the impact head-on, but he redirected as much force as possible, receiving only the minimum shock.
Thanks to that, the Balrog’s kick was parried and endured, leaving him with nothing more than momentarily stiff muscles.
‘He’s a genius.’
Ragna marveled inwardly.
In reality, it wasn't raw talent; it was a realm of time, effort, and agonizing experience.
Thus, Encrid continued to block the Balrog’s attacks. He blocked them, quite literally, by any means necessary.
It hadn't been a long fight, but the price of holding the line alone began to appear as scars across his body.
Boom!
Penna snapped and flew away as it blocked Urt, which had been swung horizontally with lethal intent. An Elven artisan would have screamed at the sight of the broken blade.
Part of his cloak was torn away.
Blood splattered. It wasn't black mist, but red blood vaporizing into a crimson haze—a phenomenon caused by the high-speed exchange of blows. Though even that was merely a blur amidst the flickering light of the torch stands.
When reflecting on this entire process, what happened next could not be called a coincidence. It was an inevitability. It was an opportunity earned by enduring.
Two bullets fired by Rem, using Spirit Possession and Descent simultaneously, shattered the Balrog’s two newly regrown horns. A third bullet, fired in rapid succession, struck the Balrog’s forehead. It was no longer mere harassment; it was a full-scale assault. Rem, who had been firing single shots until now, threw three in a row, pouring out his secret techniques.
This was the result of exhausting all his strength. The Balrog’s limbs became tangled. The opening widened.
Encrid was barely holding on. Because he was focusing every thought on blocking and blocking again, he didn't even properly perceive what Rem had done. He was simply focused on the Balrog’s reactions.
‘If I miss it, it’s over.’
He had no luxury to look away.
In an instant, Audin ignored the whip and circled to the Balrog’s right. Since he had been fighting on the left and only occasionally throwing strikes from that side, this was a positioning aimed at total unpredictability.
Whoosh.
Furthermore, he gathered and burned Divine Power in his right hand like never before. The holy light transformed into a flame for a fleeting moment. It was a hidden trump card—the flame bestowed by the God of War: Holy Fire.
He slashed the Balrog’s thigh with the edge of his hand, which was shrouded in the sacred blaze.
Sssssssss!
Instead of spreading, the Holy Fire seared right through, severing the Balrog’s thigh from its body.
Even though its leg was cut off, the Balrog didn't scream. Instead, it shoved its elbow into Audin’s head.
Bang!
With a thunderous sound, Audin, who had exhausted his strength, was sent flying.
It wasn't a pre-arranged moment, but the balance was broken. However, it was a move someone had to make. Everyone who had been holding out knew this. If they only focused on enduring, they were the ones who would eventually lose.
The Balrog regenerated its entire body and did not tire. If it became a contest of endurance, they were doomed.
Before Audin was hit by the elbow, Encrid thrust Duskforge into the gap. Thanks to that, Audin’s head didn't explode. Audin, sent flying, bounced across the ground like a skipping stone before rolling to a stop.
In that split second, Ragna’s Sunrise appeared and slashed across the Balrog’s chest.
It wouldn't be able to block it. That was the intuition that filled everyone’s minds.
The Balrog’s flaming eyes swirled fiercely. A flame whip flew toward the middle of Ragna’s sword and snatched it, momentarily delaying the speed of the blade. In that gap, the Balrog spun its body, tensed its now-regenerated abdominal muscles, and extended its foot in a roundhouse kick.
‘I’m going to die.’
In the gaps of fragmented time, Ragna's foresight showed him the immediate future. He would die. The angle, speed, and timing were unavoidable.
Of course, not everyone thought so.
A man focused solely on the single fact of blocking moved, breaking through his limits.
Encrid had just blocked the Urt the Balrog had swung down, gripping his sword with both hands. This meant he had blocked the elbow aimed at Audin and parried the Urt as well.
The foot extended as the Balrog spun its body seemed impossible for anyone to block, but Encrid’s body moved within that narrow window.
‘Block it.’
His will turned into resolve and shone, urging the transformation of his power.
A Point Explosion erupted, and the Will that had turned into Indules gained explosive speed. For a moment, staying in the same timeframe as the Balrog, Encrid’s sword blocked the kick aimed at Ragna.
Clang!
Blades and internal organs shook, and part of the shock swept across Ragna’s abdomen. Still, a block was a block.
Ragna’s sword stopped after merely cracking the second crystal.
Cr-crack.
The crystal stopped mid-shatter. The blade of Sunrise had failed to achieve its goal.
Now, in the time it took to take a single breath, this entire battle was about to end in the Balrog’s victory.
Yet, Encrid’s eyes remained the same. The collapsing Ragna could no longer use Will, and in the distance, Rem had fallen to his knees. He was paying the price for using excessive techniques in succession. Audin merely lifted his head while sprawled out on the dirt.
Of course, once the time for that single breath passed, everyone here would wring out their very hearts to stand up and fight again. Even if the end was death. They did not know how to give up. Their captain had taught them that with his back.
While they were the ones who taught Encrid techniques, they had also learned much from him in return.
And in the gap of a breath—an interval of time that even the Balrog could do nothing about—a master of assassination who had been hiding made his move.
Just as the Balrog had risen from Oara’s shadow, Sachsen rose from the creature's shadow and stabbed the one intact crystal on its chest.
Holding his dagger in a reverse grip, his hands embracing the monster from behind, he shattered the crystal. Sachsen tried to pull the dagger sideways. Simultaneously, the Balrog’s wings retracted and curled, transforming into a crude javelin that lunged toward Sachsen’s throat.
It was a counterattack that broke through a prediction, following an attack that had defied expectation.
* * *
‘Block it.’
Encrid was still immersed in that single thought.
Perceiving the line of attack, predicting it, and mobilizing foresight to block.
‘Block it.’
Mobilizing his senses to turn every coincidence into necessity, reacting and blocking.
‘Block it.’
The will to block by any means urged the transformation of his Will, achieving Indules.
Yet, it was still not enough. So what should he do now?
There was no time to think. If he didn't react now, someone would die.
Was it out of admiration for this, or was it the Ferryman’s whim, or perhaps just a hallucination? It felt like the voice of the blonde Ferryman he had seen before.
“Fight. As if this were the first time.”
It was a moment when words became a poem, resonating in Encrid's heart.
Repeating today, fighting and fighting again, blocking and blocking again—he had gained a feel for it, but conceiving a move and executing it were two different matters. But now, Encrid pulled a vague intuition into reality.
‘The culmination of all techniques—it is the person who wields the sword.’
The desire to block anything was intertwined with the desire to protect what was behind him. His will became resolve and shone.
‘Block it.’
The moment he resolved himself again, the path became visible.
Just before Sachsen appeared, Encrid had already closed in, almost pressing himself into the Balrog’s embrace.
Only the wings were striking at Sachsen. There were still many means left for attack—namely, hands and feet. While it was difficult for hands and feet to strike behind, they were more than enough to crush an approaching insect.
The Balrog swung its elbow toward Encrid. Formless power gathered at the tip of the elbow, turning into a scythe just before it struck.
Just before that attack began, Encrid held Duskforge in a reverse grip and struck the middle of the monster's arm as if slamming down with the pommel.
Next, he threw the Horn Trumpet Dagger—which Sachsen loathed—piercing the middle of a wing. The wing, which had been rising with force, faltered. This was enough time for Sachsen to pull back.
‘If predicting the line of attack and blocking isn't enough...’
Then he just had to strike the starting point. For that, ultra-close combat was essential.
Joy filled Encrid’s eyes and shone. He was savoring the moment of surpassing his limits.
‘Extinguishing the Embers.’
It was a variation and evolution of the Wave-Blocking Sword. It was blocking the starting point with insight before the attack could even begin. It was the act of putting out the sparks before the fire could even rise.
The Balrog extended its foot, and Encrid stepped onto the Balrog’s thigh, reaching his palm toward its jaw. The motion of trying to gore with its horns while kicking was interrupted. One side trying to kill, the other trying to block. They became a pair, dancing a waltz of death.
Encrid was busy striking and blocking the starting points with everything he had.
Even as its movements were interrupted, the Balrog ultimately mixed in a feint. It seemed to target Encrid, but instead reached out toward Ragna, whose posture was broken after the Sunrise slash.
The Urt held in that hand shot forward. It was a linear thrust so fluid it looked beautiful—a textbook example of a one-handed thrust. Furthermore, doing such a thing while a human was rampaging at close range on its own thigh made it nothing short of an acrobatic feat.
There was no particular meaning behind the intent to stab Ragna. Having glimpsed the will to protect everything around him in Encrid’s movements, the monster was simply exploiting a vulnerability.
Encrid had to surpass his limits once more.
Even if he had to break the framework of time, even if he had to sacrifice a part of his body—if it had to be done, he would do it.
Indules. The Will accumulated within his body became as light as a goose feather rather than a rock. Duskforge responded to his lightened body, and the sword flew.
Clang!
Urt was blocked, parried away by Duskforge. But here, the Balrog added another feint.
Deliberately throwing the sword it had never once let go of was the trick. With its two remaining hands, it tried to crush Encrid’s head as if clapping.
Within that brief window of time, Encrid’s thoughts accelerated faster than usual.
‘Why couldn't I strike the starting point of the attack?’
If it were a sword thrust, he should have blocked it. He should have cut it off before it started, but he couldn't. His thoughts accelerated.
‘Because it threw it.’
If it let go of the sword, its hands would be free. And the Balrog’s entire body was a weapon.
This thought was etched into his mind like a lightning bolt in the realm of intuition. To block the Urt, Encrid also let go of Duskforge. Then, he raised both hands to shield the sides of his head.
However, he couldn't buy enough time for the Will to turn back into a rock.
Crunch!
Redirecting as much force as possible and enduring the impact, he kicked his foot upward.
It was the first counterattack from Encrid, who had only been blocking and enduring. It was a strike extended from outside the realm of expectation and insight. Encrid’s toes kicked the Balrog’s jaw. This kick was also something he had learned while being hit by the Balrog earlier.
‘This is it.’
He had no more strength to fight. The Balrog’s crystals were cracked, but one remained. Unless all three crystals were broken, the Balrog would not die. It was a creature that could regenerate even a snapped neck.
So, should he give up here? His heart did not break. A spirit that knew no surrender moved Encrid’s foot once more.
That unyielding foot kicked up the Balrog’s left wrist, which had extended long claws even as its jaw was being kicked. Even though blocking this meant nothing as they headed toward the end, he just did it. He did it knowing it was his final struggle.
And then, Encrid thought he heard the voice of the Elf.
“Well done, fiancé.”
Finally, the dark green afterimage that had only been watching appeared. The owner of movements as secretive as Sachsen’s approached and, placing a palm on the ground beside Encrid, extended a foot. The tip of that foot was sharp, looking like a spear made of layered leaves.
Thud!
Just as Encrid had surpassed his limits, the Balrog had also been fighting by scraping the very bottom of its vessel.
The Elf’s foot, extended as if doing a handstand, became a spear and shattered the remaining crystal.
Chime—.
Black powder fragments scattered in the air, and amidst them, the Elf’s voice pierced his ears.
“This is the price and the revenge for daring to kick my fiancé.”