Obelisk Raid (13)
How did she block that just now?
Albrecht had no idea. And in all likelihood, no one present fully grasped what Erinn had just done. Ser-Aria, with her keen eyes, might have roughly seen it—but lacking any real understanding of swordsmanship, she wouldn’t have comprehended it.
It wasn’t only the protected Albrecht who was flustered. The attacker himself was just as shaken.
Barkan’s javelin throw was a strike that never missed its mark. This had nothing to do with Barkan’s magic; it was a property of the spear he wielded.
Barkan’s spear was a magic weapon crafted personally by Magic Legion Commander Arcel. Even its user didn’t fully understand the principles by which it guaranteed a hit on its target—whether the opponent chose to defend or evade. Not even a powerful holy barrier or raw mana could stop it.
With that spear, Barkan had casually cut down countless humans and overcome every formidable foe he had ever faced.
And yet, somehow, Erinn had not only knocked that spear aside—she had driven it straight into the ground.
Did she figure out the principle because she fought him once before…?
That was the only explanation that came to Albrecht’s mind. He was still rattled, but he forced himself to accept it. This might be the world of Dungeon in Evil, yet it wasn’t identical to the game itself. And if Erinn could block Barkan’s spear, that was only a good thing.
Barkan, for his part, stared at Erinn with eyes even more stunned than Albrecht’s. Then he muttered, as if the whole thing were absurd.
“First humans dismantle His magic, and now even the divine artifact He bestowed upon me…”
Barkan stretched out his hand. The spear rose of its own accord and flew back into his grip.
“I can’t simply let you leave. If I don’t deal with you here, you’ll become a threat later—without question.”
Ominous energy began pouring from Barkan’s body. Not mana, but power originating from the Demon King itself—malice. As one of the core officers under the Magic Legion Commander, the sheer volume of that power was staggering.
“I’ll finish you here.”
The party tensed at the sight of it.
The only one who remained completely unfazed was Erinn. She spoke to the rest of them with a light smile.
“This is where it really starts, so don’t let your guard down~.”
A joke telling people who were already tense not to relax. The underlying message—that tension was natural, so they might as well stay loose—eased the party’s expressions a little.
“I’ll take him head-on. Everyone else just focus on support. Freya, if that guy comes after any of you… you know what to do, right~?”
“Yes, of course.”
Having assigned roles with brisk efficiency, Erinn raised the Holy Sword and charged first. At the sight of her, Barkan poured the powerful malice he had unleashed into his spear.
“So the Hero thinks she can cross blades with me directly.”
Barkan’s arm moved, settling into a stance to swing the spear. To anyone unfamiliar with the weapon, the posture would have looked awkward. Spears were usually meant for thrusting, after all.
But a lance with a massive blade like Barkan’s was closer to a blunt weapon when swung—and the destructive force of that swing was enormous.
“Foolish.”
And that wasn’t all. The malice coating the spear was a force of pure, savage malevolence. When he swung, that malice would ride the blow and deal catastrophic damage to anything it touched.
Erinn had to know that. Yet she closed the distance without the slightest hesitation. Honestly, Albrecht did not think it was a good decision.
The risk is way too high.
If it had been him, he would have drawn Barkan’s attacks from a distance first, tanked them with Freya’s vast divine power to strip away some of that malice, and only then looked for an opening.
The real problem with malice wasn’t just its raw power—it dismantled mana. No matter how strong Erinn was, pure physical force had its limits; she needed mana’s support. Facing malice-clad attacks head-on meant she received none of that support at all. Of course the risk was enormous.
By the book, Albrecht’s reasoning was correct. But there was one crucial point to remember: Erinn didn’t have to play by the book.
Erinn’s Holy Sword flashed as she closed in. At the same moment, Barkan—utterly certain he held the advantage—swung his spear with everything he had.
CLANG!!!
The result was the exact opposite of what anyone expected. Malice, mana—none of it mattered. Barkan was overpowered in raw strength, and Erinn’s blade shoved his spear aside.
“!?”
Barkan had never imagined he could lose a contest of pure force. No one else had expected it either. Albrecht couldn’t make sense of it.
Simply put, Barkan’s strength stat far outstripped Erinn’s. He couldn’t check the status window right now—he lacked the authority—but…
From what I remember, Barkan’s strength is at least over 700…
On Extreme difficulty, Barkan’s strength stat had exceeded 700. Given that this world seemed to be running on an even higher difficulty, the sight before him made no sense at all.
There was a reason, though.
The Dungeon in Evil Albrecht knew was a game. Everything was decided by stats and skill power. But in a world where that game had become reality, the rules were different. Stats still carried enormous weight—but they were not absolute.
Many other factors decided a fight.
Condition that day, emotional state, carelessness—plenty of variables. And the most decisive among them was technique.
She was the Hero chosen by the Holy Sword, and the sole successor of the Hegemon Sword Art.
“Got flustered, huh~♡”
In pure swordsmanship, there was no one in this world who could match her.
Having shoved Barkan’s spear aside, Erinn casually reversed her grip on the Holy Sword. Barkan seized the opening, gathering malice once more and thrusting the spear forward.
Erinn didn’t flinch. She hadn’t left that gap by accident. Exactly as she had told them earlier, support arrived to fill it at once.
Divine Archer Ser-Aria activates [Trump Card Shot]
Spirit Mage Letisia activates [Flame Eruption]
BOOOOM!!!
Barkan chose to press the attack even while taking the hits, but the hesitation that created the opening was all Erinn needed. She slipped aside with liquid grace, then used the reversed Holy Sword to drive a downward strike into the gap between Barkan’s helmet and armor.
CRUNCH!!
“Guh!?”
Fortunately—if it could be called that—Barkan’s body itself was extraordinarily tough, so the blade did not sink all the way in. Erinn felt the resistance, yanked the Holy Sword free, and sprang back a full step.
Drip. Drip. Blood began to run from beneath Barkan’s armor. The party’s faces lit up as they shouted.
“Erinn!”
“We haven’t won yet~.”
Barkan, meanwhile, could feel defeat closing in.
…I got hit.
It wasn’t an instant kill, but he had offered up his neck. Even if the blade hadn’t gone deep, it had gone in—and the carotid was severed. Blood would not stop flowing.
The only reason he was still on his feet was that he was a monster with a body of iron. Any ordinary monster would already be dead.
They knew it too. The Hero looked ready to charge again and finish the job for good.
“….”
Barkan calculated the time. How long until reinforcements could arrive. How long he himself could still hold out.
The answer came quickly.
“…Damn it.”
He had gone down far too fast. Support was still a long way off.
Barkan closed his eyes, opened them again, and tightened his grip on the spear.
“Somehow…”
He fixed on a single target. Albrecht—the one who had so casually dismantled his magic moments earlier—was that target.
That man’s existence was highly likely to become a major obstacle to his master, the Magic Legion Commander. The Hero in front of him was dangerous enough, but that one in particular would be a problem.
“At least you…!”
Malice flooded over Barkan’s entire body. Then, like a living battering ram, he leveled the spear and charged straight ahead.
“!”
The speed was so extreme that he blew past Erinn before she could even react.
It far exceeded anything they had anticipated. This was not Barkan’s pure physical ability. Nor was it the malice, which possessed only destructive force.
“It’s mana!”
At Erinn’s shout, Albrecht reflexively raised his own mana. And then, astonishingly, Barkan’s charge toward the rear slowed dramatically.
“This is…!?”
Barkan felt every scrap of his mana seize up the instant he reached Freya’s barrier. In that same heartbeat, Clara—who had already closed the distance on the slowed Barkan—drew two daggers.
Stab! Thrust!
In a single fluid motion she flipped up Barkan’s helmet with one dagger and drove the second straight into the center of his throat. Even like that, Barkan still thrust his spear—but it was nowhere near enough to punch through Freya’s powerful holy barrier and reach Albrecht.
BOOOOOOM!!!
The spear slammed into the barrier with a shockwave that shook the air in every direction, yet Freya’s holy barrier did not fully break. The tip of the spear pierced through—and that was all.
“….”
With a hole punched through his neck, Barkan could no longer speak. Only the wet, whistling sound of air escaping his ruined throat remained.
And at last—
THUD!
He could hold no longer. Barkan collapsed.