Formula Written in Blood (3)
Facing a marksman who has already claimed the high ground—and with it, a commanding view of the entire field—is a nightmarishly difficult task.
That much is common sense, and it remains one of the few pieces of common sense that still holds even among transcendents who have long since stepped beyond ordinary limits. After all, when the opponent is a fellow transcendent raining down unilateral attacks from afar, the fight is never easy.
And if that marksman happens to be skilled, the difficulty climbs even higher.
From where Najin stood, the archer’s skill was exceptional. Extremely so. The javelins of Akut of the Pillar of Praise had been fast and devastating in their own right, yet the arrows this marksman loosed seemed twice as swift.
Akut had managed to strike targets only a few hundred meters away at best. This nameless constellation was sniping him from tens of kilometers distant.
Granted, Akut had been a spearman equally deadly in close quarters who simply happened to excel at range as well… but still.
Whiiiiisssh!
There was no question that the unknown constellation stood several tiers above Akut. Against the Najin of only a short while ago, this foe would have forced a hard fight.
But now?
Najin watched the arrow streaking toward him. His pupils tracked its path with perfect precision. When it finally reached his face, he snatched it out of the air without the slightest trouble.
The arrow’s kinetic force and shockwave were caught in his grip; it did not explode or shatter with any dramatic flourish. A little dust kicked up, nothing more. His palm stung, the skin abraded, but even that healed in an instant.
The accuracy of an arrow that could lock onto a target tens of kilometers away was terrifying, yet its actual power… well, so long as he avoided vital spots, it did not seem particularly dangerous.
Had the situation truly been critical, Yuel or Merlin would have intervened—but Najin felt no real sense of crisis.
He let out a long breath.
After claiming nine stars and ascending as a complete transcendent, he knew he had grown stronger, yet he still lacked a precise sense of just how much. The Revelry Emperor had hardly been a normal measuring stick.
So he intended to take the measure of himself here.
And conveniently enough, a fine sparring partner had presented himself.
2.
Jeklin, constellation of seven stars.
He was a constellation who had lived roughly six hundred years in the Outer Land, once a marksman whose name had resounded far and wide. The tale of how he had shot a dragon from the highest heavens still circulated centuries later.
What Jeklin possessed was the Authority of Certain Hit.
If he could place a target within his sight, he would always strike it. And the eyes that had opened when he awakened as a marksman could see a being tens of kilometers distant with crystalline clarity.
See. Shoot. Hit.
A simple Authority, yet a powerful one. No better power existed for an archer, and no one was better suited to guarding a specific domain. That was why the Star of Omniscience had chosen him. Jeklin took pride in the fact.
Watchman Jeklin.
The sentry who guarded the path into Hermann’s sanctuary drew his bowstring once more, ready to punish the insolent wretch who had dared trespass upon His domain. In his estimation the task was hardly difficult.
This place was his own sanctuary, and here he could draw power directly from his sleeping patron god who lay beneath the earth. How many constellations had he shot dead over the past centuries? And how easy had every hunt been?
This hunt would be no different. So Jeklin believed—right up until he loosed his third arrow.
What entered his sight then was Najin snatching the arrow bare-handed. How? The catch was far too clean to be mere chance. Only someone who had perfectly read both trajectory and velocity could have managed it so effortlessly.
And then—
Whiiiiisssh!
—Najin simply returned the captured arrow. Of course it lacked the force to travel tens of kilometers the way Jeklin’s original shot had; it lost power mid-flight and fell short. That was not the point.
The direction matched.
It traced the exact same path the original arrow had drawn.
At that moment Jeklin understood: this was no opponent to take lightly. The intruder had not entered this domain out of suicidal bravado, but because he was confident he could survive it.
Click. Click-click… clack.
Jeklin immediately pulled upon the Authority of his patron—the Constellation of Omniscience. The One who slept underground had granted His sole apostle unlimited use of that power.
Gears turned above his head. Cog meshed with cog with a metallic clack, and Jeklin’s pupils dilated. Blood streamed from his eyes, nose, and mouth.
The Authority of Omniscience settled into his mind.
Knowledge flooded his skull, bringing with it a near-ecstatic rush. In that instant of comprehending every rule and law of the world, Jeklin’s eyes foresaw the future. Every possible movement the intruder might make was laid bare before him.
His pupils no longer saw only the present. They saw the future as well. Therefore he could not miss.
Jeklin loosed arrows at both present and future.
Whiiiiiiiiisssh!
The arrows tore through everything in their path at blistering speed. Massive canyons and walls rose between them, yet the shafts simply punched gaping holes through the obstacles and flew on by the shortest possible route, locked onto Najin.
Three arrows, staggered by fractional delays.
One for the ground where Najin stood now. One for the spot his foot would land a second later. One that even predicted the motion after that. This was prediction of an entirely different order from the crude “future sight” Sword Masters liked to boast about. There would be no escaping this time.
Jeklin’s lips curled into a smirk—just as Najin’s movement changed.
With a soft tap, Najin kicked off the earth as if sliding and snatched one of the oncoming arrows out of the air. He immediately hurled the captured shaft back toward the remaining arrows.
Crack. The arrow Najin threw was pierced through and snapped like a twig, but that was enough to knock the original shaft’s trajectory off course. The deflected paths collided, bleeding velocity. Najin caught the slowed arrow bare-handed and snapped it in half.
And the last one?
Najin lifted his foot high and stomped down. Crunch. The arrow shattered beneath his boot. Bloodshot veins flooded Jeklin’s eyes. What was this? The boy was moving as though he could even predict arrows fired with foresight of the future.
Worse still…
Judging by his bearing he was clearly a constellation who used a sword, yet he had not even drawn the blade—he was fighting bare-handed.
Shock gave way to rage.
Was the boy mocking him?
Jeklin stamped the ground with a heavy boom.
Arrows stuck all around him were blasted into the air by the shockwave. He snatched them up, nocked them, and loosed in the same motion.
Whiiiiisssh!
Dozens of arrows sliced the wind and stormed toward Najin. Only then did Najin put power into his legs and begin to run. Each step launched his body like a projectile, covering vast distances.
A speed even a transcendent’s eyes might lose if they grew careless.
Because Jeklin’s arrows were Certain Hit, the outcome of “missing” simply did not exist. Trajectories that should have buried themselves in the dirt bent at the last instant, kicking up dust as they pursued Najin’s back.
Yet they were slow. Far too slow.
Arrows that could not match Najin’s speed merely chased his shadow like faithful hounds. Even while being hounded by dozens of shafts, Najin moved with leisurely ease.
He kicked off a cliff face. He plunged into the canyon below, then drove off a jagged outcrop and rocketed almost vertically into the air.
The distance closed.
Growing frantic, Jeklin drew and loosed in rapid succession. He could not comprehend the situation. That every one of his attacks was being dismantled by pure physical ability alone filled him with dread.
See. Shoot. Hit.
Jeklin had always faced enemies with that simple yet overwhelming method—and now he was being dismantled by a method equally simple. The Authority of Omniscience he had borrowed, the vision that knew all things and therefore foresaw the future, was proving nearly useless.
Because Najin possessed something similar.
To Najin’s eyes, arrows fired at his future looked little different from arrows fired at his present. Since there was no real difference, catching them or breaking them was no more difficult either.
Should I try taking one?
Najin deliberately offered his arm. With a wet thunk the arrow punched through; the limb snapped backward. Wind pressure sheared fingers clean off. Broken bone tore free of the flesh.
Yeah, that hurts.
Ordinary sword aura could not so much as scratch him anymore, yet this still ranked as a transcendent’s strike. Had they met before the battle with the Revelry Emperor, this opponent would indeed have given him trouble.
But that was then, and this was now.
Crunch. Najin slapped the protruding bone back into the meat with his palm. He grabbed the bent arm and dislocated shoulder with his free hand and jammed them roughly into something resembling proper alignment. Any physician or healer watching would have screamed—but those screams never reached him.
Najin drew up starlight.
Excalibur’s regenerative power surged for an instant and restored the damage. Twisted bones settled into place. Fractures knitted. Severed fingers regrew. The entire process finished in a heartbeat, and throughout it Najin never slowed his run.
As expected—so long as I avoid vitals, it’s nothing.
Having reached that conclusion, Najin now threw himself forward with abandon. Arrows too troublesome to dodge he simply tanked with his body. Pull the shaft free, wait a few seconds, and the wound was gone.
“……”
The terror that seized Jeklin as he watched from afar defied description. What… what was that thing?
And still the distance closed.
Tens of kilometers had become barely one. Then only a few hundred meters. Jeklin poured arrows at the closing figure in a frenzied storm.
KRAAAAAAASH!
Arrows howled in from the front on a gale. More closed from behind as well; the shafts that had been chasing like shadows finally caught up—not because they had grown faster, but because Najin had deliberately slowed.
He was not tired.
The distance had simply become short enough.
Two hundred meters remained—close enough that a sword stroke would easily reach. Only then did Najin draw his blade. He had considered finishing the job bare-handed, but he had no idea what hidden variables the opponent might still possess.
Excalibur emerged from empty air.
Gripping the sword of stars, Najin slammed his foot into the earth. The ground shook with a heavy boom. He was now capable of the same feats as Alderan.
Which meant—
First Horn.
Without any special preparation—
Triumph.
—he could unleash the ultimate technique of the Triumphant Sword.
Najin swung.
In that instant every arrow racing from front and rear froze in place. Before that colossal flow, dozens of shafts became utterly insignificant.
Just as a storm uproots century-old trees without the slightest consideration and flings them aside, so too did the storm born of the Triumphant Sword.
Do not bar the path the Empire intends to take.
You will only be broken.
With a deafening roar, Jeklin was swallowed by the tempest.
3.
Boom. Rumble…
Debris from the collapsed canyon and cascading boulders battered Jeklin’s body. He groaned and blinked.
The last thing he had seen was a single sword stroke bisecting the landscape. The moment the scenery was cut cleanly in two, the storm had erupted. It had shredded his arrows, literally plowed under his sanctuary, and brought the high ground beneath his feet crashing down.
What in the world was that?
Through the Authority of Omniscience he had approached truth itself; a vast library of every scrap of knowledge sat inside his skull. Yet nowhere in that library existed any information on the being before him.
Impossible. Lord Hermann knew all things.
The only inference he could draw was that no new book had entered the library for a hundred and fifty years. Did that mean this existence had appeared less than a hundred and fifty years ago? To wield power of this magnitude in so short a time? Was that even conceivable?
Jeklin could not understand the situation.
But the situation did not wait for his understanding. He lifted his head. A young man stood before him.
Only then did Jeklin grasp the rank the youth held as a constellation. His upper and lower teeth clacked together.
A constellation of nine stars.
A being whose rank towered far above Jeklin’s own. It was not merely the greater number of stars; the very presence of that soul was different. And finally Jeklin registered the single sword the youth held.
Its outward form was different—
but Jeklin knew what that blade was.
Not because the library of Omniscience contained the knowledge, but because Jeklin himself knew it. On this land, no one existed who would fail to recognize it.
“Excalibur…”
As he murmured the name, the tip of Excalibur came to rest against his brow. Jeklin’s pupils shook wildly. In this moment every Authority and every scrap of rank he possessed was worthless.
No great strength was required.
A slight push of the blade would end him. The chill of death resting on his forehead filled Jeklin with pure terror.