Retribution (1)
Thud.
The heavy dark iron flail crashed to the ground. The collapsed Demon King, Eligos, glared at a single man—a blood-drenched swordsman. Without uttering a word or letting out a single groan, the swordsman swung his blade. The merciless steel severed the demon's windpipe without hesitation. The lives of the handpicked elite vanished like a fleeting daydream.
Though it wouldn't have been surprising if the man collapsed right then and there, it was impossible to count how many had already fallen to his blade. Even the 15th Seat Demon King could not track the movements with his dark eyes. Yet, Eligos continued to throw his subordinates into the meat grinder.
"Kill him at all costs! Even if every last one of you dies here, that man must not leave this place alive!"
Three demons died just to inflict a single scratch on the man. Eligos himself was already bleeding profusely from a massive gash across his chest, and among the corpses littering the ground were faces he knew all too well.
His favored lieutenant—a warrior so formidable that humans would classify him as a 'Master-class' asset—had lost his head before he could even last five exchanges. It was utterly absurd.
What if they had encountered that human on a proper battlefield? He didn't even want to imagine such a horrific scenario. Eligos now understood, with bone-deep clarity, why the higher-ranking Demon Kings had avoided attacking Ilencia. Though rot festered in the beast's heart, its claws and fangs remained as lethal as ever.
"I, who wields the hellfire—Urgh!"
"..."
The demon who had been brilliantly wielding flames was sliced clean in two. The blazing hellfire lost its power, its very spell formula severed, leaving behind nothing but a superficial burn on the swordsman's shoulder. A monstrous warrior. Arzen Bertus's body was covered in scars left by such desperate struggles.
A demon's life exchanged for a minor wound. It was a sickeningly lopsided trade-off. Yet, Eligos loathed the fact that they had no choice but to keep going. He gritted his teeth and spoke.
"Do you intend to keep going? Every single human who followed you here is dead."
"..."
"What in the world are you fighting for?"
Eligos had hoped to shake the man's resolve, but he didn't even receive a reply. A suicide squad sent to halt the Demon King's march. Even with his comrades completely wiped out, Arzen Bertus fought on alone. Spells rained down like a tempest, and demons lunged at him in an endless tide.
By the time the earth lost its natural color, stained a deep crimson, the seemingly unstoppable slaughter of the wild blade finally began to slow. Nezra had stepped forward to block Arzen. No, to say he "blocked" him was a misstatement. The disparity in their physical conditions was stark, yet Arzen pushed Nezra back even while practically a walking corpse.
Had it not been for Nezra's monstrous regenerative abilities, the endless waves of demons throwing themselves into the fray, and the constant magical support, Nezra's head would have rolled long ago. Even so, it was a stroke of absolute luck that anyone could face that wild blade head-on. Aside from Eligos himself, no demon could survive more than ten seconds before Arzen Bertus.
Having patched up his wounds, Eligos reentered the fray. Under the relentless, coordinated onslaught of the demons, Nezra's blade finally found its mark, piercing Arzen's heart. Only in his final breath did the great knight utter his last words.
"Ranya, I am coming to you now..."
It was a memory so terrifying that, even in Eligos's long life, he never wished to recall it again.
Sword Qi tore through the night. Red light rippled across my armor, and a thunderous roar echoed every time our greatswords clashed. As the sharp edge of the blade sliced through the air, my father's voice seemed to echo in my mind.
"Rajen. It is a single step. Deciding victory ultimately begins with a single step. Were you able to take one more step forward? Or did you resolutely step back? You must never hesitate."
Just as my father said, I took that extra step and lunged inward. It was the correct choice. With the distance closed, my blade reached him a fraction of a second faster. Unable to recover his stance in time, Nezra was forced onto the defensive. I relentlessly rained strikes down upon him. The savage exchange continued. Every time our greatswords clashed, the world itself seemed to shriek. Our ominous, violent Sword Qi tore at each other, desperate to rip the opponent to shreds.
A clash of greatswords is inevitably a battle of raw power. While I pressed him with overwhelming destructive force, my Sword Qi began to devour Nezra's aura like a starved beast. Slowly. Methodically. Ensuring that no matter what he did, there would be no escape. This was precisely why I had abandoned the longsword of my youth to master the greatsword. My style was built for swift, decisive finishes rather than drawn-out wars of attrition. Crushing the opponent with absolute, crushing force was my most reliable path to victory.
As my blade struck Nezra like a bolt of lightning, the resulting shockwave and howling winds shook the very mountain range. How long can you keep retreating? When will your backward steps finally stop? What could you possibly do to resist me now?
"While facing an enemy, your mind must always look two or three steps ahead. As for the blade rushing right at you—react with your body."
"I don't understand what you mean. What does it mean to react with your body?"
"It means your body must move before your mind can think. Just by seeing the twitch of your opponent's muscles, your sword should naturally be blocking their path."
"How do I do that?"
"Practice and experience. If you experience it enough, it becomes second nature."
I could see it. The exact trajectory of Nezra's blade. The outer muscles of his shoulder tensed, pulling his arm along with them. His wrist rotated, locking in the angle of his strike. Nezra's gaze had already shifted to where his sword was meant to land. Was he panicking? Or had demonic swordsmanship simply failed to evolve past this level? It was a rookie mistake that even Isha didn't make anymore, yet Nezra seemed completely oblivious to it.
His raw blade-handling was decent, but everything else was frankly embarrassing for someone called a Sword Master. The downward dip of his blade was a feint; his legs and eyes were already aligned toward my upper flank. And that sudden surge of mana—was it magic? I estimated the manifestation of three to five magic circles. No, seven. If magic flew my way, I would sever the spell. If a sword strike came, I would shatter it head-on.
When I had fought Nezra before, I hadn't possessed Sword Qi. Back then, there was no guarantee my attacks would deal lethal damage, and trading blow for blow would have only left me at a disadvantage. But things were different now. My Sword Qi was perfectly impartial to both humans and demons. The ferocious, pitch-black aura devoured Nezra's blade once more, its crimson lightning relentlessly shaving away his energy.
"Urgh! I knew you had to be a Sword Master. It would make no sense for that man's son to be unable to manifest Sword Qi. I knew you weren't showing your full strength that day!"
A power so volatile it could consume its own master. My Sword Qi was not something a demon could simply shrug off. Every single one of my strikes carried lethal weight, forcing Nezra into a hellish dilemma: would he trade a flesh wound for a devastating counter, or would he meekly retreat? It wasn't even a fair fight. In this tactical exchange, I was the only one reaping any benefits. Nezra kept backing away. He had no other choice.
"But this sheer, suffocating killing intent...! Never in my life have I felt malice so savage! Even the Demon Kings of the West would hesitate to cross blades with you!"
Through the billowing smoke of detonating magic, Nezra's blade suddenly thrust forward. But no matter how obscured my vision was, my senses did not miss the slightest ripple in the air. This was why cheap tricks never worked on a Sword Master. Temporarily blinding them or disrupting a sense or two wouldn't hinder them in the slightest. I casually swayed my body to the side, letting the blade glide harmlessly past.
"Truly... it has been a long time since I have felt this utterly helpless."
There was no reason to block a strike I could easily dodge. I held the absolute initiative. As long as I kept pressing the attack, he had no choice but to react. I fought with a reckless, brutal momentum that bordered on absurd. In the end, my blade carved a massive gash from Nezra's shoulder down to his abdomen. Had he been human, it would have been instantly fatal. Even against a demon, it was a solid blow, but considering their absurd regenerative abilities, it still felt insufficient. Against opponents like him, severing a limb was far more effective. Sure enough, Nezra lunged in for a counterattack without even attempting to tend to his wound. I shattered his counter with sheer, brute force.
"Ha... haha... Truly remarkable. I admit you were not being arrogant. If anything, it seems I was the foolishly arrogant one here."
Once his defense began to crumble, Nezra left himself open to several more slashes. But since when had this world ever been kind to us? Right on cue, interlopers arrived. Hideous wraiths swarmed from the distance, while behind me, a wave of deathly divinity surged forward to clash.
"Don't you dare interfere with my knight."