Overwhelming Power
Kasian lost consciousness just like that, overwhelmed by power. But for some reason, his body—which should have collapsed lifeless to the floor—twisted at a grotesque angle and slowly rose. Like a puppet dangling from invisible strings, or as if the flesh itself had sprouted its own independent will.
“Ye... Ye-e-e-ti...”
What leaked from Kasian’s lips was a sound driven by sheer obsession, seeking the Yeti that had toyed with him and his soldiers.
Kasian’s unfocused eyes stared straight ahead.
The Yeti, which had been grinning wickedly just moments ago as it reached out, froze rigidly. Its keen beastly senses were screaming in alarm. The figure standing before it was no longer easy prey to play with.
The Yeti could sense mana through its animal instincts, yet terror emanated from Kasian, who emitted not even a trace of it. But a beast was a beast in the end. It lacked the intellect to deeply analyze the source of the creeping dread. It was simply wounded in pride at cowering before that tiny, bloodied lump.
As if to purge the fear from within, the Yeti unleashed a roar that shook the earth—then slammed its massive fist down toward Kasian’s head.
Boom—!
The swinging fist compressed the air, devouring every sound around it.
Just before that cataclysmic destructive force pulverized Kasian, the boy—who hadn’t stirred an inch—slowly lifted his head.
“...”
A ruthless killing intent, stripped even of fury, flickered in his vacant eyes.
Kasian raised his sword indifferently. No shout of exertion, no ripple of mana—just a blank lift.
It wasn’t swordsmanship. It was a savage swing, abandoning all to raw power and instinct. A crude, primal sword path utterly at odds with the Valenvalt family’s emphasis on precision and grace.
But that very brutality meshed perfectly with this hellish battlefield.
No logic, no form was needed here. Amid the blood-soaked remains of his comrades and the monster’s bellows, elegant technique held no value.
Only overwhelming destructive power to smash, rip, and utterly eradicate the foe.
Whoosh—!
The instant the blade met the Yeti’s enormous fist, an unimaginable shockwave erupted in all directions. A force impossible for a nine-year-old’s muscles.
That mana-less, dispassionate slash didn’t just block the Yeti’s brute strength—it reversed it, exploding the monster’s massive hand and arm muscles from within.
“......!!”
The Yeti’s eyes bulged in horror. A wilder, more primal power than its own pride—the sword tip devoid of mana—had burst its arm and was surging toward its heart like molten flow.
As its gaze instinctively dropped to defend, the Yeti glimpsed its own reflection on Kasian’s blade: a face twisted in terror, mirroring the humans it had toyed with moments before.
Monsters couldn’t grasp complex emotions. But instinct told it plainly.
Stab—Boom!
The blade tore through hide and muscle, piercing the heart dead-center. Dark crimson blood fountained from its chest amid the rupture.
But Kasian didn’t stop. Or rather, he’d forgotten how.
Stab, stab, stab-stab-stab-stab!
Unconscious, Kasian repeated the mechanical draw-and-thrust. The beast’s death throes filled the forest, but his impassive hands showed no sign of halting.
And strangely, tears streamed from Kasian’s eyes even in oblivion—as if mourning the shattered shield of Hans, the soldiers’ bodies scattered like roses.
The obsession etched in his depths drove the frenzy to erase the Yeti utterly from existence.
The monster’s corpse collapsed in ruins, but atop it, Kasian—splattered in gore—swung relentlessly.
The surrounding monsters froze, beholding the madness. Their instincts whispered: this small human wasn’t prey, but calamity incarnate, annihilating all life in its path.
Cowed by the crushing aura and deranged brutality, they backed away one by one.
Kasian had shredded the Yeti beyond recognition. Steam rose hot from the blood-drenched cloth, but he didn’t flinch.
Then, in a voice frail as if to snap, he murmured once more.
“...Yeti.”
His self erased, Kasian forgot even the kill. His vacant eyes slowly scanned, locking the next target.
No longer human motion. Emotion, pain, hesitation stripped away—perfected solely for slaughter, a killing machine.
“YetiYetiYetiYetiYetiYetiYeti—!!”
Crying the name, Kasian kicked off like Kalia, charging the monsters.
They shrieked and fled, but his blade already cleaved air in instinctively vicious arcs.
Meanwhile, Kalia prepared her final blow atop the plummeting wyvern’s back. Sword buried deep in its hide for purchase, she seized its wing roots with both freed hands.
Her wounded left arm throbbed fiercely, but she ignored it. Explosive muscle swelled her slender arms.
The obsessively carved wounds gaped perilously, like perforated seams.
With one explosive pull, she wrenched her arms wide. Massive hide and sinew ripped with a shriek.
The wyvern’s wings tore free entirely, scattering into the void.
Flightless, it wailed its death knell, hurtling groundward.
“Kyaaaak—!”
Kalia yanked her sword free. Black blood erupted, but undaunted, she springboarded off the falling beast into the sky.
Her form spun gracefully midair, harnessing centrifugal force.
Sword tip earthward like a raptor’s talon, she dove for the heart.
Wingless and cratered on impact, the wyvern had lost all predator majesty. It dragged torn roots, crawling wretchedly to flee—but Kalia’s descent was overwhelmingly swifter.
“...It’s over.”
The needle-keen blade pierced scales, delving to the heart’s core.
Crunch—!
A thunderous rupture halted its thrashing, dissolving into forest hush.
Kalia alighted lightly atop the corpse, impact denting earth.
No thrill of triumph lingered. Blood unshake from her blade, her gaze locked inward—to Kasian perpetuating grotesque carnage amid blood-stink.
Young master...!
Even battling the wyvern, her eyes had fixed on him in stolen instants. That distraction had prolonged the kill.
Glancing amid the fray, Kasian’s plight despaired her. Last glimpsed: the colossal Yeti’s shadow engulfing her defenseless charge.
She’d meant to charge—even yielding an arm to the wyvern.
No—she had charged, vowing supersonic arrival before the fist fell.
Yet Kasian defied her. Overpowering, butchering the Yeti.
Mid-leap, she’d grounded her sword to halt, assessing him.
A misjudged sacrifice of her left arm—but his safety sufficed.
Blood pouring be damned.
She shrugged it off. Duty as guard knight only. For once, a seed of the ‘knightly honor’ she’d lacked took root.
Uncertain how long his unnatural power endured, she’d prioritized slaying the peskiest foe: the wyvern.
Impossible to flee cradling injured Kasian against its vengeful pursuit.
Her call proved right—though its wisdom eluded even her.
Her left arm defied description. Critically mauled, then forced to rend wings—no wonder it dangled dislocated, barely clinging amid hemorrhage.
Ignoring it, she plunged to Kasian’s side amid his slaughter.
Covering his blade’s blind spots, she dispatched remnants sequentially.
Her arrival accelerated cleanup to miraculous speed.
Wyverns were Kalia’s nightmare matchup. Mana-less, aerial mana-beasts taxed her inherently; safeguarding Kasian compounded it.
Ground combat? Another tale. Valenvalt-endorsed squire.
Left arm flopping, her right sword embodied, harvesting necks mercilessly.
Fleeing stragglers crumpled like fallen leaves before its chill.
Battlefield cleared, the pair halted amid gore-reek.
As Kalia assessed her lord to speak—
Kasian’s vacant eyes lifted. Bloodied sword lashed at her.
“......!”
Shock undisguised, Kalia recoiled. To obsession-beast Kasian, she—sole survivor—was merely next ‘target.’
Parrying his relentless instinctual quirks, she pondered.
Resolving at last: touch the rampaging lord.
One good arm deflected keenly; seizing split-second, she dropped her sword.
As predicted, his gaze snapped to it plummeting.
I knew it.
Child-self would’ve too.
She dove into his guard. Freed hand-chop nailed his nape; the strung-taut boy crumpled limp.
One mangled arm couldn’t catch—so she body-cradled his fall.
Gazing at the cradled boy, complex reverie gripped her.
Minus lost reason, he mirrored her youth: mana-less, rage-fueled sword flailing.
Probing his mana hole—just in case—not desiccated like hers.
Merely overloaded from short-burst overexertion.
Fortune, she deemed. Not her curse-like ilk.
Unique ability...
She’d heard of crisis-awakenings, but witnessing? Unimagined.
No leisure for awe or dissection now.
Kasian teetered on brink; worse, stealthy gaze from distant woods prickled.
Pursue? Briefly weighed—but untenable guarding flailing arm, comatose charge.
Instead: icy killing intent blasted its origin.
Effective—the foul scrutiny fled pell-mell.
Confirmed vanished, she retrieved both swords, sheathing.
Then bolted earthward—lightning incarnate—toward nearest territory.