In the Abyss, the Sword Wields the Man (2)
The horn dagger, forged from the Bicorn's horn, was longer than a common dagger but shorter than the longsword gripped by the corpse demonkin. In most cases, a weapon's length decided the advantage or disadvantage in close combat. It was only natural that Kriel, wielding the shorter blade, found himself at a disadvantage. In most cases.
Just as the corpse demonkin had disarmed Kriel's greatsword with its own longsword, in this world where mysteries and supernatural powers roamed free, phenomena beyond the "ordinary" or "common sense" could happen anytime. And Kriel was no ordinary being either. A Dark Knight from beyond the abyss—an existential anomaly verging on the irrational. He had plenty of ways to counter a crisis like this.
Kriel unleashed the blood qi he'd been holding back. The horn dagger hummed with a strange resonance as it condensed the energy. Unlike the greatsword, where blood qi clung in tangled webs like spider silk, the qi gathered smoothly on the horn dagger, overlaying the blade with a fresh crimson edge as if forging a new one atop the original.
[Kieeeek! Damn it, Kriel, what the hell is this energy?!]
"Hold it together, man."
With Orishin's undignified screech as the signal, the corpse demonkin and Kriel charged at each other.
The corpse demonkin differed from Kriel. It didn't need to worry about any backlash from using its powers. Its head, which might have fretted over its own life, had long since withered away.
A magic circle unfolded in the demonkin's left hand. The entire abyss vibrated in resonance. With a ominous crackle, fissures spiderwebbed through the space. From the cracks spreading like fault lines around the corpse demonkin poured a blue light reminiscent of winter's bitter cold. A bone-chilling wind howled through.
In the next instant, the wind swelled into a glacier. Ice walls erupted across Kriel's approach path. Frigid chill rising from the floor slowed the knight's steps, while ice spikes thrusting from the side walls lunged to clamp his wrists.
The red blade danced wildly through the bars of blue. Swift and light where the greatsword had been heavy, it leaped nimbly, using the ice spikes as footholds for a rapid charge. The wall spikes couldn't keep pace with Kriel's speed.
Anticipating the clash, the corpse demonkin formed hand seals with its left hand once more. A massive ice spike formed in the ceiling fissure above, plummeting to strike at his blind spot. But this too was blocked. Kriel's right hand, gripping the horn dagger, traced a smooth arc. The falling spike's trajectory twisted under the blade's guidance, hurtling straight toward the demonkin.
A block of ice the size of a man's torso barreled toward it. Even without proper stance, Kriel's upward slash cleaved the vision-filling mass in two. But behind it waited Kriel. Crimson blood qi met azure chill in a thunderous explosion, shattering into thousands of light shards.
Now, the horn dagger's shorter length was no disadvantage. It enabled close-quarters combat far tighter than the demonkin had intended, denying the longsword room to maneuver as Kriel pressed his assault.
Rather than dwelling on the unfavorable melee, the corpse demonkin leaned heavily on magic. Whenever Kriel targeted its sword hand, sheets of ice manifested in the air, deftly blocking attacks and buying time. Orishin shrieked each time it slammed into another ice chunk.
[Kieeeek! Hot and cold! I'm not jerky!]
It seemed like nothing but screams, but Orishin was fulfilling its role as a spirit. The chill summoned by the demon blade didn't just shape ice—it permeated the entire space with magical frost. Orishin countered the freezing grip, aiding Kriel's acceleration.
Kriel tallied his remaining blood qi. He'd stockpiled a fair amount slaughtering monsters near Rolang Village to lure out Orishin, but the fight with Orishin followed by this standoff had offered no chance to replenish more.
'Can I stretch this just until the end of the fight? Marginally.'
Enough for three or four more clashes. But beyond that?
A twinge of regret surfaced—should've gathered more diligently—but Kriel shook his head.
'Diligent Dark Knights fall to corruption faster.'
Unlike Kriel, limited by blood qi, the corpse demonkin—or rather, the demon blade controlling it—seemed boundless in its dark mana. The ice storm surging alongside sword strikes was gradually blunting Kriel's offense.
Crack.
One of the falling ice crystals crumpled his pauldron like a raindrop. Fortunately, the plate armor took the hit without piercing the flesh beneath.
[Tries to slice my wrist and blocks like a sword. Must've gotten chewed out for sucking in fights, huh!]
Orishin's grumbling mirrored Kriel's thoughts perfectly. To subdue it, he needed to separate the demon blade from the corpse, but every attempt to sever the arm redirected all mana to defense, no matter the cost.
That instinctive guarding was also why Kriel could still hold the offensive amid the blizzard's superficial assaults. Whenever control threatened to shift to the demon blade, targeting the sword hand—even at the price of damage—reset the flow.
But that limit was approaching. Once blood qi ran dry, Kriel would face a choice: go on the defensive or draw on resentment.
'Neither's appealing.'
How to break this deadlock?
'Wish I'd awakened some bullshit new technique using neither, but I'm a Dark Knight. Awakening means abyss powers anyway.'
Having filled his daily quota of self-deprecating scorn for his class, Kriel considered alternatives.
'Morgina swoops in to save me. Possible, but who knows how long it'll take to destroy the abyss core. Since I said I could buy time, she might opt for slower but safer purification over brute force.'
Can't dodge this one?
As Kriel seriously weighed using resentment, his eyes caught his greatsword swallowed by the abyss. The blade, pinned immobile. Seeing it trapped brought a sly smile to his lips.
Slowly, Kriel's assault slackened. Precision faltered in his frenzied swings, reverting the balance to defense. The red glow on the horn dagger dimmed, leaving the abyss awash in eerie blue. Now the dagger parried magic more than clashed blades.
And the demon blade seized the opening. Its blue-wreathed tip thrust for Kriel's heart—the perfect spot to end a life and siphon vitality.
Kriel knew the target. He twisted away urgently, swinging the horn dagger. But their blades never met. The demon blade evaded, pressing the stab. Its tip grazed the plate armor over Kriel's chest. In that instant, extreme cold seeped from the point, shattering the armor unable to withstand the temperature shift.
The blade aimed to pierce his chest clean through. Kriel contorted his body at an unnatural angle.
Scraaaaaape!
Ribs ground against the blade with a deafening screech. It missed the heart, lodging between bones. Blood trickled from the gray steel, freezing solid before it could flow.
The demon blade swung to cleave flesh and bone alike. But Kriel had funneled all blood qi from the horn dagger into bodily reinforcement for this exact moment. Fighting spirit and blood qi in tandem—his body tougher than steel.
Now closer than ever, Orishin's blessing struck true. As a spirit of nature's authority, it could counter the abyss's laws. The corpse demonkin's arm shook free of the demon blade's control.
The blade nimbly shifted to other limbs, hurling the body away to reset its guard.
Then.
Grab.
Kriel's left hand clamped the demonkin's right arm. The horn dagger slashed down.
Hastily conjured magic raised layers of ice walls between blade and arm. It blocked the first strike, but this time there was no escaping. Kriel reversed his grip in a flash, stabbing and piercing the walls like mincemeat.
Through the shattering shards flew the final blow. The horn dagger plunged through the shoulder joint. Kriel twisted the hilt fiercely. The blade spun a half-circle inside, severing three-quarters of the shoulder in a bloodless instant—no time for even a second to pass.
But the angle wasn't ideal for a full rotation. Regeneration loomed. In a veteran's improvisation, Kriel unleashed a thunderclap kick that blasted the air, slamming the demonkin's gut.
The arm tried to follow the body, but Kriel's left grip held firm. The torso flew off into the distance, leaving the arm behind. No blood sprayed—the demonkin's was long frozen.
A few red frost strands drifted from the mangled wound, melting on Kriel's cheek.
Only then did he wrench free the right arm, still clutching the demon blade. Its fingers slowly loosened, strength spent. The gray sword slipped free, clanging sharply past Kriel's ear.
Eyes on the pathetically fallen demon blade, Kriel hurled the arm aside and slumped down.
[Whoa, thought you were done for. You good?]
Orishin chattered the moment the fight paused—concern masked as nagging to keep him alert.
Kriel clutched his chest, murmuring, "Hurts like hell."
[Hah, cursing means you're fine! When you jammed the blade with your ribs like 'Yup, catch this!' I thought you lost it!]
Kriel let out a dry chuckle. Pain surged from the wound. A strangled yelp-cough escaped him.
[What knight order taught you that insane move?]
"Read it in a novel."