An Unscheduled Lesson
"The pulse of the continent." Fingers like the pulse of the continent. The back of a hand ridged with black veins. Knuckles that rumbled with a low vibration whenever they moved. If that hand were to grasp anything—be it shield, armor, or bone—it felt as though they would all make the exact same sound.
*Crack.*
The demon bent a single finger. As that solitary sound echoed off the walls of the sewer, the shoulders of several soldiers in the rear instinctively tensed.
His muscles were like layers of coiled black rope, the line from his shoulder to his forearm as thick as a beast's foreleg, and the flesh covering his ribs looked as solid as a fortress wall that had withstood countless batterings without crumbling.
His entire body was a tapestry of scars. Slash marks. Blunt trauma. Burn scars. Circular wounds from spear thrusts. Blackened, hardened traces where a curse had grazed him. Those numerous scars did not look like weaknesses. Rather, they were a record of what his body had survived.
"...This is an undocumented entity," Roen murmured, his eyes slowly narrowing. He observed the orientation of the scars. Their depth. Their age. The way the muscles pulled as he moved. The weight with which his feet pressed against the stone floor.
As the demon took a step forward, the wet stone floor sank ever so slightly. Ripples spread across the black water of the sewer, carrying away fragments of white masks.
Even as he walked into the center of the sewer, he did not look down to see what he was stepping on. Not the bubbly remains of Hisa. Not the shattered face of Seluan. Not even the husks of the elite monsters Edenkart had crushed. To him, they all seemed like part of the floor. Just clutter that had been blocking the path before his turn came. Nothing more. He walked on like that. Leisurely.
"So you killed Sel-whatever? And Hisa ran away... Do humans really get soft-hearted when they see a child's face?"
His presence far surpassed that of a regular executive. He was different from the high-ranking demons spotted multiple times on the Eastern Front. He didn't have the presence of a general-type who commanded elite monsters, nor was he the type to encroach upon the battlefield by twisting spells and minds like Seluan.
This was simpler. More brutal. More distinct. A body. A monster whose very body was a battlefield. An existence that felt as though, the moment he started running, the entire sewer would be torn apart with him.
The demon raised his head. His eyes locked onto Edenkart. A massive suit of armor with not a single inch of bare flesh exposed. A cracked shield. A greatsword dripping with black blood. The one who had single-handedly carved a path through Hisa, Seluan, and the elite monsters. The demon's mouth split open. Seeing him, the demon laughed even louder.
"Good. I like that silent fortress of yours."
He cracked his neck from side to side. *Crack.* This time, the sound was much louder than his finger. The sound of his cervical vertebrae snapping into place echoed along the sewer walls, and several mask fragments floating on the black water collided with one another from the vibration.
"Did you do all this?"
Edenkart still did not answer. The demon slowly raised his hand, casually pointing at the scattered remains of the monsters at his feet.
"I asked if it was you."
The darkness inside Edenkart's helmet did not waver. However, the tip of his greatsword scraped against the black stone floor. *Screeech.* That low sound served as his reply. The demon bared his teeth.
"Then that's enough."
At that moment, Roen watched the demon's feet. The feet planted firmly on the wet stone. The angle of the toes and ankles. The direction in which the calf muscles were tensing. A charge. He's coming. The instant Roen made that judgment, Ena took a step forward. It was not a large step. Yet, it shifted the lines of the battlefield.
Ena stepped directly onto the invisible line of collision between Edenkart and the demon. Her silver-white hair swayed slightly in the damp air of the sewer. The hem of her Eastern-style robe fluttered low, catching a draft that smelled of black water and blood, and the black scabbard at her waist wept silently, still closed.
"Edenkart," Ena said. The darkness of the helmet turned toward her. "Stand back and watch."
Edenkart's shield did not lower. It merely shifted, ever so slightly, to an angle that could simultaneously cover Ena's back and the rescue team. That small movement was his answer. Ena accepted his silent reply and kept her eyes fixed on the demon before her.
The demon looked at Ena. At first, he seemed entirely uninterested. His gaze lingered on Edenkart's shield and armor, only briefly brushing past Ena. Within that gaze was an explicit judgment. Light. Thin. Not a body built to carry a shield, nor one that could withstand a punch.
But when his eyes fell upon the black scabbard at Ena's waist, a crack formed on the surface of that judgment. The black scabbard. Ilryun. And the silver-haired Commander-in-Chief of the Geomgye. The corners of the demon's mouth slowly curled upward.
"Ah." He let out a low chuckle. Within that laugh, his bloodlust reared its head a little more clearly. "It's you."
Ena looked back at him. "So you finally recognize me."
"Of course I do." The demon's grin widened. "Azabel." That name hung low beneath the dark ceiling of the sewer. "I heard he didn't even leave behind a curse or a corpse."
A very low vibration resonated from inside Ilryun's scabbard. Small ripples spread across the black water. The soldiers' hands moved toward their hilts. But Ena did not budge. She was staring into the demon's eyes. Leo. Tarkan.
The Lion of the Zodiac, who had trampled countless battlefields in her original knowledge of this world. A monster of pure flesh. A combat-type disaster that devoured, reversed, regenerated, and crushed opponents while ignoring their defenses. Ena knew him.
"...It appears to be one of the Zodiac, Commander-in-Chief," Roen said. His voice was calm as usual, but beneath that composure lay a thin thread of tension. Roen had not confirmed the name yet. True to his nature of never recording anything unconfirmed, he only stated the facts he could verify before his eyes.
*Zodiac.*
The moment that word was uttered, the faces of the soldiers in the rear grew even stiffer. The Geomgye did not bother calculating the survival rate of battlefields where they encountered a Zodiac. There were too few survivors to even calculate.
Ena replied briefly. "Indeed."
Roen's eyes shifted ever so slightly. That single word carried more weight than mere confirmation. The Commander-in-Chief already knows.
*Crack.* The sound of knuckles popping echoed off the sewer walls once more.
"It's been a while since I've had prey that knows who I am."
"Do not flatter yourself," Ena said. "You are the prey."
This guy is the annoying type that absorbs and releases energy. The kind you have to fight with overwhelming firepower or pure, physical weaponry. However, if the sewer gets wrecked, it will cause massive damage to the city. Once again, I can't go all out because I have to worry about my surroundings. Ena found this fact incredibly irritating. How annoying. Truly annoying.
It wasn't annoying because she lacked power, nor was it because she feared her opponent. It was quite the opposite. She could just unleash Baekil right now. If she released the output limit of Ilryun and let the sun sealed inside the scabbard flood the entire sewer... this black water, the ancient stone walls, the fragments of Seluan's mask, and Tarkan's regenerating flesh would all lose their meaning under the exact same light.
Even if Leo could devour energy, there was a limit. No beast could swallow the sun. Even if Tarkan was the Lion of the Zodiac, there was a cap on the total amount of power his body could withstand, a point where his body would collapse before he could redirect what he had consumed. Ena could force him to that point. Too easily. Too grandly. Too certainly. The problem was that such certainty would act as a poison in this place.
"...Very well. Let us make this a lesson."
The moment those words fell, the grin plastered on Tarkan's face stiffened ever so slightly. Ena was dead serious. She did not look down on Tarkan, nor did she take him lightly. Rather, because she knew exactly how dangerous that monster was, she wanted to show them right here and now. How the Zodiacs, whom the Geomgye would inevitably face in the future, slaughtered humans.
"You're going to use me as a textbook?" His voice was low. The grin remained, but beneath it lay a blood-soaked fury. Ena replied, her hand resting on the hilt of Ilryun.
"You make an excellent textbook."
Tarkan's eyes narrowed. "A Zodiac?"
"Because on a first encounter, even a Squad Leader would die." Ena spoke flatly. Her words could have sounded like a compliment, but they struck like an insult. A weak enemy cannot serve as a textbook. An enemy who poses no danger is not worth recording. This bastard was strong. Therefore, they had to learn.
Tarkan understood the implication, and it only fueled his rage. He was the Lion of the Zodiac. A top-tier combat executive of the Demon King's Army. A physical disaster that even the Squad Leaders of the Geomgye would have to risk their lives to face alone.
Yet, this silver-haired human dared to call him a textbook. Before he was even dead. Before the fight had even begun. Tarkan slowly lowered his head. His shoulders trembled. He looked as if he were laughing. Then, he raised his head. The grin was still on his face, but it was no longer pleasant.
"In that case..." The stone floor beneath his feet cracked. The black water parted to both sides. "...I'll start by tearing the teacher apart!"
Tarkan moved. In that instant, the floor of the sewer reacted first. The wet stones were crushed downward, cracks spreading in all directions like black waterways, and the filth pooled in the crevices shot upward in thin streams, unable to withstand the pressure.
His massive frame appeared to charge forward, but more accurately, he had launched himself by repelling the earth. His toes dug into the stone floor, his ankles flexed briefly, and the black muscles of his calves and thighs expanded simultaneously, catapulting his entire body.
The movement was closer to a beast's pounce. It was entirely different from the footwork learned by swordsmen. Lowering his center of gravity, throwing his weight forward, and letting his arms loose like weapons, he simply plowed through everything in his path with his body. He wasn't stepping on the ground; he was tearing it apart.
*Crunch.*
The first step gouged the stone. *Shatter.* The second step pulverized it. The third was invisible. Tarkan was already in front of Ena.
A black palm blanketed her vision. It wasn't a fist. It was a grasping hand. A hand intending to seize and crush her head, shoulders, and neck all at once. Five thick fingers splayed open, black veins tensing between them like drawn bows.
The moment that palm closed, it wouldn't just be bones breaking; the very flow of energy inside her body would shatter. A defense-ignoring strike. Whether one wore armor, parried with a sword, or raised a shield, it was a force that drove the impact deep inside whatever it touched. The moment you tried to block, you were too late. The moment you tried to dodge, those behind you were in danger.
So, Ena stepped inward. Her silver-white hair brushed past his black fingers. Her toes did not move even an inch more than necessary. Her right foot lightly pressed against the slippery surface of the wet stone floor, her heel never touching the ground, while her left foot followed almost like a shadow. She didn't leap, nor did she twist her waist dramatically.
Trying to escape outward from the palm would be too slow. There was no need to beat the speed of the closing fingers, either. Before they closed, there was an empty space between the fingers. Between the middle and ring fingers. The narrow gap where Tarkan's strength was least concentrated. Ena's body slid right into that gap.
*Crunch!* Tarkan's hand clenched empty air. The atmosphere itself was crushed. Even though there was nothing caught in his grasp, the surrounding moisture, dust, and stone powder were compressed all at once, exploding like a black mist. The hem of Ena's robe tore. However, her body was already beneath his wrist. Ilryun swept upward.
*Slash.*
She did not swing the blade wide. The inner wrist. The spot where the tendons that closed the fingers gathered. She traced that exact line and nothing more. The wound was shallow. Black blood welled in a thin line, and two of Tarkan's fingers stiffened for a fraction of a second. That split second was all she needed.
"When dealing with a grasping hand, slow it down from the wrist," Ena said. Before she could even finish her sentence, Tarkan's left arm swung in from the side. It was the arm that had just been severed and regenerated.
The black muscles were still knitting together, and though the newly formed tendons looked complete on the outside, they couldn't quite keep up with the rhythm of his entire body. Nevertheless, the arm was fast and heavy. Like a log sweeping through the entire sewer, his elbow, forearm, and the back of his hand formed a single black wall rushing sideways.
If Ena ducked, her head would escape. If she retreated, her body would survive. But behind her were Roen and the rescue team. Ena did not back down. The outer arc of the arm was fast. The tip, which gained speed as it extended from the shoulder, was far too heavy and wide. Instead, she targeted the inner origin of the arm.
The gap where the shoulder rotated first, the elbow followed, and the wrist trailed last. There lay an empty beat. Ena stepped into that beat. Her blade lightly grazed the inside of his elbow. *Slash.* It didn't go deep. It didn't cut bone. But it opened the joint where the regenerated arm connected to the torso.
Tarkan's arm did not lose its trajectory entirely. A Zodiac's body would not stop from just that. However, it dipped slightly. Because of that slight dip, the black arm that should have taken off Ena's head scraped empty air and slammed into a stone pillar behind her.
*Boom!*
The stone pillar exploded from the inside. It wasn't a surface shatter; it was a rupture as if the core had been crushed first and pushed outward. Debris scattered. Fragments of white masks splashed up from the water.
Edenkart's shield moved. The massive shield slammed down in front of the soldiers. Stone fragments rained down upon it.
*Thud. Thud. Thud.*
Behind the shield, those carrying the sleeping soldiers ducked low, and Roen's Ten Thousand Black Iron Seas seeped into the cracks in the floor, holding together the fissures that threatened to split further. Ena did not look back. Even without looking, she knew Edenkart would block it. She knew Roen would mend it. So, she pressed further forward.
Into Tarkan's chest. The most dangerous place. The closest possible distance to a man with giant fists. For an ordinary person, entering this range would mean their limbs getting tangled, their vision filled entirely with black muscles and scars, rendering them unable to read the next attack.
But to Ena, everything here was crystal clear. The shoulder moves. The waist rotates. The knee rises. The ankle pushes off the floor. Tarkan's body was massive, but because of that mass, the pathways of his power were equally thick. She only had to watch those pathways. And cut them a breath before they converged.
Tarkan's right knee surged upward. Black water splashed. The knee rose from bottom to top, aiming straight for Ena's ribs. If it hit, her body would fold. Her internal organs would be crushed, and the defense-ignoring impact would drive deep inside; her low defense could never withstand a single hit like that. Ena knew this. That was why she wasn't in front of the knee.
Instead of pulling her right foot back half an inch, she tucked her left shoulder further inward. Evading the strongest, frontal trajectory of the knee, she slipped into the inner crevice where the thigh met the pelvis. The smell of blood, heat, and the demon's flesh drew close. The tip of Ilryun swept low.
*Slash.*
The inner thigh. The starting point of the muscle that pulled the knee upward. Tarkan's knee didn't stop, but its angle was skewed. The knee grazed past Ena's side and slammed into the stone floor. *Thud!* The floor dented. Black water shot up like a pillar. Through that pillar of water, Ena's silver-white hair scattered.
In that split second, Tarkan snapped his head down. A headbutt. It wasn't a horn, nor was it a fist. It was a headbutt carrying the weight of his skull, neck muscles, and entire back. His head descended like a massive boulder falling from above. Ena raised her head. She did not dodge. She raised her sword. The blade of Ilryun rose diagonally from beneath his nape.
*Slash.*
The junction where the shoulder met the neck. The path through which the force of his headbutt traveled. The wound was short. But Tarkan's headbutt was delayed by a fraction of a second. Because of that delay, his forehead failed to crush Ena's head, instead striking the stone floor right in front of where she had been standing. *Boom!* The sewer floor exploded again. Black water, stone dust, and blood splattered together.
Ena spun within that explosion. She did not twist her entire body excessively. Her waist rotated slightly, her toes pressed against the wet surface, and her blade had already caught the next line. Tarkan's hand rose from the floor. Maintaining the posture of his missed headbutt, he reached out with his left hand to grab Ena's ankle.
His fingers scraped the stone floor, black claws gouging the wet stone as they approached. If caught, it was over. Ena did not lift her foot high. She raised it just enough for her ankle to clear his grip. And the moment she lifted her foot, her body spun. Her blade fell.
*Slash.*
Two of Tarkan's fingers were severed. Even before the severed fingers could fall into the black water, they squirmed, attempting to reattach. Black tendons shot out from the back of his hand, trying to seize the severed fingers. Ena's sword tip descended once more.
*Slash.*
The path of regeneration was severed. The severed fingers fell into the black water.
*Splash.*
"Regeneration is indeed a powerful ability that mends wounds," Ena said. The moment she landed, she slipped to Tarkan's right again. "But even mending has a path. Cut that path, and regeneration shall be delayed..."
Roen's pen moved rapidly. *Scribble. Scribble.*
Tarkan twisted his mouth. "You move pretty well for someone who talks so much."
"Ah, so you were listening? Any feedback?"
"I'm trying to kill you because I hate listening to it!"
Tarkan's body spun. This time, it could hardly be called a technique. Elbow. Shoulder. Back. Horn. Knee. A movement that spun his entire body at once to grind down the surrounding space. It was a rampage, a giant beast whipping its entire body to destroy everything nearby. But even if it was a rampage, it was the rampage of a Zodiac. Soon, the first sound heard from within the dust cloud was...
"That concludes the lesson on how to dodge," Ena's voice said.
"Ugh... *pant*... You fucking bitch...!"
Looking at the utterly enraged Tarkan, Ena spoke.
"So, how is the power of the sword that turned your comrade into roasted goat?" She smirked.