Beyond Expectations

Beyond expectations. Far beyond expectations, the Eastern Outskirts wore the color of a sky on the verge of rain.

The sky hung low. Dark clouds clustered together, and though sunlight repeatedly pushed against their edges, it ultimately failed to reach the ground. The wind blew from the east before cutting out, swept down the northern slope, and then lifted upward once more. Dry blades of grass lay flat in conflicting directions, and a tattered scrap of a flag caught on the ruins of an outpost kept flipping over, unable to decide which way to flutter.

Arcel Libern was watching that wind. To be precise, he was watching the point where the wind's direction distorted.

In the world Arcel perceived, the wind always appeared as lines. Thin, faint, invisible currents. They trailed behind passing people, wavered when a demonic beast breathed, and were pushed aside or tangled when a spell was cast. Around Cheonram, those lines were quietly settling low.

Arcel held a recording board. It was an object far too academic for a battlefield. Yet to Arcel, it was equipment as familiar as a sword. Its edges were reinforced with mana. Its surface was tear-resistant even under impact. Silver lines ran through it to assist in recording airflow changes and mana density. It was useful in many ways.

Of course, when he stared into it during battle, his subordinates sometimes grew anxious. Arcel was well aware of this. But it couldn't be helped. Once a phenomenon passed, it never returned. The same went for the battlefield. Recording only after someone died was already too late. Especially when it was a scene of the Commander-in-Chief wielding a new sword.

"Captain," a member of the 5th Squad standing beside him said in a low voice.

Arcel didn't turn his head. "Speak."

"Three hundred paces ahead. Demonic energy reactions are rising."

"Numbers?"

"Hard to count precisely. They are overlapping beneath the terrain."

"They're hiding."

"Yes, sir."

Scratch. The sound of the pen nib gliding was faint. It was a sound that did not belong on a battlefield. But Arcel liked that sound. It was better than the sound of a blade cleaving bone, better than the explosion of demonic energy, and far better than the screams of his subordinates. The sound of recording. The sound of leaving a legacy. The sound that ensured the next person made fewer of the same mistakes.

Thinking of it that way, a pen was a weapon in its own right. Of course, the Demon King's Army wouldn't think so. If they spotted Arcel holding a pen, they would probably try to kill him first. A chronicler on the battlefield was usually a troublesome enemy.

"Everyone," Arcel said. "Fall back one hundred and fifty paces. Barrier unit to the front. Observation unit, double-record. Recovery unit, maintain the return spell. No one is to step forward."

The members of the 5th Squad moved immediately. They were a rather peculiar unit even within the Geomgye. They carried mana measuring instruments while fighting with swords. They observed the cross-section of the enemy's neck as they severed it. Once the battle ended, they wrote reports before even taking off their blood-stained gloves.

Other squads often found them exhausting. Arcel didn't deny it. Honestly, even in his eyes, the 5th Squad was exhausting. But they were necessary on a battlefield like this. One had to see what happened. And if seen, it had to be recorded. Power left unrecorded would only return as an unfamiliar disaster on the next battlefield. This was especially true of the Geomgye Commander-in-Chief's sword.

The strikes she unleashed were usually too fast. Too massive. By the time one looked, it was already over, and once it was over, it was difficult to describe what one had witnessed. Baekil was even worse. When attempting to write it down in a report, sentences failed to keep pace with reality.

"The enemy forces in front are moving."

"Do not engage yet."

"Yes, sir."

"Barrier unit, erect a triple barrier centered on the outpost ruins. Prioritize shock dispersion over direct defense."

"Understood."

"Observation unit, don't just look at demonic energy reactions; capture the airflow as well. The moment Cheonram moves, the existing measurement standards are likely to warp."

"To the point of warping existing standards?"

Arcel stared at Cheonram for a moment. "It's highly possible."

"Pardon?"

"Recording equipment always thinks it's correct until it's proven wrong. Just like people."

The squad member shut his mouth. Arcel didn't explain further. Explanations during battle were usually a bad idea. He could just torment his subordinates in the conference room after they returned alive. That was far more efficient.

Arcel looked at Ena. She stood slightly ahead of them. Her silver-white hair was tied low. The white sleeves of her Eastern-style clothing did not flutter much despite the wind.

Arcel let out a very quiet sigh internally. He had opposed this. He had absolutely opposed it. He understood the need for real-combat data on Cheonram. It was also true that battlefield armaments had to be verified on the battlefield. But he had never agreed to using the Geomgye Commander-in-Chief as bait for the enemy.

"Arcel," Ena's voice drifted over.

Arcel immediately bowed his head. "Yes, Commander-in-Chief."

"Fall back further."

Arcel paused for a fraction of a second, then answered immediately. "How many paces back should we retreat?"

"As far back as you deem safe."

"That is a bit difficult to calculate."

"Why is that?"

"The definition of safety by your standards and mine are vastly different."

Ena looked at Arcel for a moment. There was no urgency in her gaze. No laughter, either.

"Go by your standards."

"In that case, we will have to move much further away."

"Do so."

She granted permission too easily. He felt anxious at moments like this. Instead of reassurance, Arcel read far more into her response. The fact that she said those words meant Ena did not view this area as a simple testing ground. Something larger than expected was coming. Or perhaps, it was already here.

"Everyone, retreat an additional two hundred paces!" Arcel ordered immediately. "Barrier unit, maintain the mobile barrier. Observation unit, do not fix your gaze; switch to reflective recording. I will handle direct observation myself."

"Yes, sir!"

His adjutant asked in a low voice, "Are you not retreating, Captain?"

"If I retreat, who will record this?"

"I expected you to say that."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Still, asking makes me feel more at ease."

Arcel almost let out a tiny smile. "A good habit. Keep it up."

Meanwhile, the earth ahead churned. Beneath the ruins of the outpost. Between the roots of the black forest. Behind the collapsed wooden fences. From the bed of the dried-up creek. Demonic energy rose from every corner. At first like mist. Then like breath. Finally, like the growl of a beast.

Boom! The ground exploded. The Demon King's Army surged forth. Demonic infantrymen who had been hiding underground rose, covered in black soil. Behind them, demonic beasts charged out.

Arcel didn't count them. There were too many to count. What mattered was their deployment. A frontal assault. Flanking maneuvers on both sides. Mid-range bombardment. Rear spellcasting. It was a classic yet solid encircling formation.

And behind them, three black pillars towered in the far distance. Observation spells designed to read the battlefield without light or sound. They were indeed present. Ena had intended to draw them out.

Arcel suppressed a short breath at the tip of his tongue.

"Observation unit."

"We see them."

"Three Demon King's Army observation spells. They've been active since before Cheonram was even used. Record it."

"Yes, sir!"

"Their forms?"

"Similar to the fragments recovered from the eastern front. However, they are smaller."

"They've downsized them."

"Yes."

"Then there are likely more nearby. Don't assume it ends with just three."

"We will conduct an additional search."

"Search, but do not look for too long. Don't get read while trying to read them."

"Yes, sir."

Standing in the rear while his subordinates were tense. Clutching a recording board while the Commander-in-Chief stood at the front. Refusing to let go of his pen as the enemy swarmed. Arcel found it quite unpleasant. But it had to be done. There was a reason the Commander-in-Chief stood on the battlefield herself. There was a reason she had brought Cheonram. There was a reason she had brought the 5th Squad. And there was a reason he was here.

"Commander-in-Chief..." The words slipped out of his mouth unconsciously.

Ena did not answer. Instead, she gripped the hilt of Cheonram.

In that instant, the wind vanished. Or so Arcel felt. Just before drawing. Airflow synchronization across the entire battlefield. Pressure alignment centered on Cheonram's axis. Range immeasurable.

Scratch. His hand trembled. Was it out of fear? Excitement? The joy of a researcher? It was likely all of them.

Ena drew her sword. Shring. It was a quiet sound. Yet the moment Cheonram emerged into the world, the wind of the battlefield took shape.

The blade was a dark grey. It did not shine. However, thin, silvery-blue lines flowed along the curves of the blade. Those lines were not static. They moved like ripples. On the blade, the wind was visible. Something that should have been invisible was now seen.

Arcel realized at that moment that he was holding his breath. He was a researcher. He had to distinguish between admiration and observation. He had to separate awe from recording. Yet the sight before his eyes shattered that distinction in an instant.

Ena did not step back. She lowered Cheonram. The tip of the blade pointed toward the ground. And then, a step. Tap. The moment her foot touched the ground, the surrounding dust was swept away in a perfect circle.

Ena raised Cheonram. The path of the sword was not long. From bottom to top. Effortlessly. But in that instant, the wind of the battlefield soared. Whoosh!

It was not a pillar of wind. It was too thin, too sharp to be called that. It was a wind that felt as if countless sword paths had ascended all at once. Demonic energy projectiles tore apart in midair. They failed to explode. The flow of demonic energy inside the projectiles was cleaved by the wind, unable to maintain its form, and scattered. Black chains snapped as well. The moment they surged from the ground, the wind dug into their roots and split their grain apart.

Cheonram cut through them. Through everything in front of it.

"Spell Severance," he almost whispered. "It is not merely physical cutting. It has cleaved the very structural flow of the spell itself."

"Recording!"

"No, wait." The squad member behind him stared at him briefly. The Demon King's Army's attacks were flying toward them, yet he was busy choosing terminology. This was Captain Arcel as usual. It was ambiguous whether they should feel relieved or worried.

Arcel wrote down at breakneck speed.

Only after finishing the sentence did he exhale, a moment too late.

"Commander-in-Chief," Arcel muttered softly. "It seems my opinion that we should observe this in a controlled environment first wasn't entirely wrong."

Sizzle... The sound of observation ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠spells burning echoed.

"The Demon King's Army is directly reading Cheonram."

"Let them read."

"Pardon?"

"The Commander-in-Chief wants them to."

Yet even as Arcel spoke, he felt uneasy. The moment the Demon King's Army tried to read Cheonram, what did Ena intend to do?

Ena held Cheonram. Slowly, she brought Cheonram toward its scabbard. She was sheathing it.

Arcel's eyes widened. "Already?"

Cheonram entered the scabbard. Shring. It wasn't fully sheathed. Only half the blade was encased. In that instant, the winds remaining on the battlefield shifted directions all at once.

The strikes from just now. The turbulence lingering inside the cut surfaces. The rising currents that had torn the demonic energy projectiles. The thin flows that had collapsed the chain junctions. All of those residual airflows suddenly awakened. The Demon King's Army's observation spells attempted to read them. At that moment, the residual airflows bit into one another.

"Ah," Arcel gasped. It was impossible to tell if it was a sound of admiration or a scream.

The observation pillars shook. The target they were trying to read was not fixed. The traces of the sword strikes remained, but those very traces moved again the moment she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sheathed the blade. The turbulence inside the cut surfaces connected with the rising currents in the rear. The currents left on the ground linked to the lingering echoes in the air.

Cheonram's sword path had not ended. Even after sheathing, the wind remaining across the entire battlefield rearranged itself. And that rearrangement occurred right before the eyes of the observation spells.

The Demon King's Army was reading it. But the moment they read it, the content being read changed. When they tried to read the changed content, it changed yet again in the meantime. Analysis ruined analysis. Observation shook the very object of observation.

Arcel's hand trembled. This time, it was definitely excitement.

And yet... yet, it was so magnificent.

Arcel wanted to rub his face with the back of his hand. But he couldn't let go of the recording board. For a researcher, the worst moment was not a dangerous one. It was a dangerous yet fascinating moment. That was when one had to run, but couldn't tear their eyes away. Arcel was in exactly that state right now.

"Did the Commander-in-Chief know about this?" he muttered softly.

His adjutant replied, "She must have known."

Arcel turned his head to look at him. "Don't say it so lightly."

"Pardon?"

"If I assume she knew, my pride as a researcher gets slightly bruised."

"Ah. Yes, sir."

"But if I assume she did it without knowing, that is far more terrifying in its own way."

The adjutant shut his mouth.

Arcel looked ahead once more. Ena drew Cheonram again. This time, she drew it completely. A thin layer of dark grey wind wrapped around the blade as it slipped from the scabbard.

The Demon King's Army was faltering. The front line had already been swept ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠away. The flanking forces couldn't even draw near. Bombardments were torn apart in midair. Binding spells collapsed immediately upon activation. One observation pillar had collapsed, and the remaining two were shaking.

Yet, an even greater reaction rose from the rear. Arcel's expression hardened.

"A giant specimen."

The earth rumbled. A massive shadow rose from behind the forest. It walked on four legs, but it had three heads. A different demonic energy flowed from each head. One was fire. One was poison. One was shockwaves. Its body was covered in layers of black carapace. Several small pillars of observation spells were embedded in its back.

A biological weapon. A Demon King's Army experimental subject, outfitted with observation devices specifically to read Cheonram's strikes.

Arcel narrowed his eyes. "They've finally brought out the real deal."

He wanted to see it. He wanted to see how Cheonram would cut through that. Arcel hated himself just a tiny bit.

Click. Ena held both the sword and the scabbard simultaneously. The blade faced the attack, while the scabbard caught the flow. Generating wind from both sides. It was a hypothesis he had written in yesterday's report. But to see it in real combat so soon...

"You are truly too much," Arcel said, almost lamenting. "If you do that now, how can I possibly not write it down?"

Ena moved. Cheonram's blade entered the point where the fire, poison, and shockwaves overlapped. It didn't look like a slash. The blade created a thin crevice in the air. The scabbard caught the opposite side of that crevice. And then...

Whoooooosh! A massive vortex formed. Before the vortex could vanish, Cheonram thrust inward. Boom!

The wind compressed forward. The blade hadn't physically touched it. Yet the compressed wind extended like a spear. It pierced the center head of the giant demonic beast. Its carapace exploded. Its bones ground to dust. One of the observation pillars embedded in its back shattered from the inside.

The beast shrieked. The remaining two heads moved simultaneously. Ena was already beside it. Cheonram's scabbard rotated below her waist. It looked like a sheathing motion. But it didn't go all the way in. Halfway in, then drawn again. A brief half-sheathing. The moment the blade emerged again, the wind overlapped twice.

The first wind was the straight line left from the thrust just now. The second wind was the curve created the moment she drew it again. The two lines met beneath the beast's neck. Slash.

The giant beast's second head fell. Even as it fell, turbulence swirled inside its neck. The flesh attempting to regenerate failed to bind.

Arcel had now almost forgotten to breathe. Beautiful. Terrifyingly so. To an unacceptable degree. The kind of beauty that made him want to dissect it as a researcher, reach for it as a swordsman, and revere it as a subordinate. In the end, he didn't cross it out. He left it on the recording board.

He might not be able to write it in the report. He would have to delete it from the official document submitted to Roen. But he had to leave it in the record of this very moment. Arcel excused himself in that manner. To himself.

And he looked at the battlefield once more. The giant beast's final head roared. A shockwave erupted. This time, the range was wide. Wide enough to sweep all the way to the 5th Squad in the rear.

Arcel raised his hand immediately. "Barrier unit!"

"Deploying!"

The barrier rose. But the shockwave never reached them. Whoosh!

Ena swept Cheonram low toward the ground. The wind spread along the earth. It didn't clash head-on with the shockwave; it dug beneath it. Ena walked up to the beast. The giant beast had lost its balance and was kneeling. Ena raised Cheonram. This time, it was a very simple downward slash. From top to bottom.

Yet before Cheonram even passed through, the wind entered the beast's body first. Between the carapace. The grain of the muscles. The crevices of the bones. The flow of the demonic energy circuits. And then, the sword descended. Slash.

The beast wasn't cut in two. Ena didn't flick Cheonram. Because there was no blood on it. The wind had passed through first, and the blood was pushed away before it could touch the blade. Cheonram's blade was still dark grey. It seemed to have grown slightly deeper in color.

Ena looked down at the sword. Very briefly. Then she sheathed it. Shring.

The wind remaining on the battlefield moved once more. Between the corpses of the Demon King's Army. The broken spells and the severed surfaces of the beast. The lingering echoes of the collapsed observation pillars. Small winds arose from all of those places, beginning to erase one another's traces.

Arcel's eyes widened. "Ah."

The silver-white-haired Commander-in-Chief stood in absolute silence. Less like someone who had just swung a sword, and more like someone who had just finished a sentence.

Arcel stared at that sight for a long time. And he thought once more: Beautiful.

That thought did not fade this time either. Rather, it became slightly clearer. It was true that Cheonram was beautiful. But to be precise, Ena wielding Cheonram was beautiful. The sword and the scabbard. The feet and the wrists. The wind and the pressure. The battlefield and the enemy. A person who brought all of those into a single flow, moving only as much as necessary.

A strong person was not necessarily beautiful. Overwhelming power was usually ugly. It was too massive, too crude, and destroyed too much. Yet Ena's sword was different. Even though she had killed the enemy, torn the battlefield, and shattered the flow of demonic energy, her movements remained orderly. Order placed at the center of violence. That was what appeared beautiful in Arcel's eyes.

In the end, he wrote in very small script on the margin of his recording board.

He paused for a moment upon seeing that last word. This time, too, he didn't erase it. He would omit it from the official report anyway. Probably.

It was then. Rumble... A very low sound echoed from afar.

At first, he thought it was thunder. Since the sky hung low, the dark clouds were thick, and there was a smell of rain. But Arcel realized immediately. It was not thunder.

Once. Thud. Very far away.

Again. Thud. A bit closer.

Arcel's hand stopped. The silver lines on the recording board trembled faintly. The 5th Squad's observation unit raised their heads at the same time. Arcel's insides turned ice-cold.

The very moment after he thought it was beautiful, the battlefield was preparing a different answer, as if refusing to permit such sentimentality.

"Is that one over there the Commander-in-Chief, by any chance?"

"....!"

An unfamiliar voice.

Dash! Arcel leaped back reflexively to create distance.

"Hah. Dodging only now? You're quite the talentless one, aren't you?"

A man with white hair and blue eyes smirked at Arcel. In his half-open eyes, which seemed bored with everything, lay the distinct listlessness of the strong. Dangerous. Extraordinary.

"Step aside. I have personally come to kill my mother."

"...?"

Looking at him again now, he also just seemed like a complete lunatic.