Chapter 196
Chapter 196
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 196
Chapter Title: Dragonless Grand Battle (5)
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Arin had embedded arrows into her opponent's body with her bizarre archery.
She was somewhat off guard.
No, honestly, most people would have been.
Seven arrows total stuck in his body.
None were immediately life-threatening, but all hit vital points that made movement difficult.
That was exactly what Arin had aimed for.
Yet Michel stood even after taking seven arrows.
Chik—!
As Michel yanked out the arrows hindering his movement, small fountains of blood spurted from the wounds.
Arin blinked in astonishment as she watched.
‘...He can still stand after that?’
What kind of guy was he? Didn’t it hurt?
Sticking out her tongue in disbelief, Arin nocked another arrow.
‘Fine, just keep stabbing him with arrows until he can’t get up anymore!’
With that thought, Arin released the bowstring.
And then.
Pshuk— pshuk—!
Thud thud—!
Two more arrows lodged into his thighs, making Michel’s body sway briefly.
But he didn’t fall.
Instead, he silently stared down at the fresh arrows in his thighs.
His gaze was indifferent, as if they were embedded in someone else’s body, not his own.
Whoosh—.
Too much hassle to pull them out now?
With a casual swing of his arrow, he sliced off the shafts.
Tadadak—.
Michel charged straight at Arin.
Arin shuddered at the sight.
‘Even after taking that... still?’
Biting her lip hard, she drew three arrows, muttered something softly, and nocked them.
Tzzzz—.
The moment an ivory light enveloped the arrows.
Arin released the string.
Shoo— shoo— shoo—.
The arrows split into three paths as they left the bow.
Chilluk— chi— chijik!
The diverging arrows writhed like demonic serpents, streaking in all directions.
They flew at Michel from different angles.
The impossible, magic-like arrow trajectories left the onlookers gasping.
“Crazy?! Is that really archery as I know it?”
“How can arrows... move like that?”
Could the archery of the Lyn tribe, said to carry ancient elf blood, do something like that?
Yuri nodded, swallowing a strip of jerky whole amid the outbursts of shock.
‘Yeah, it’s pretty surprising.’
Swords, spears, blades, shields, and more.
All sorts of weapons could unleash holy swords, demon blades, or other bizarre, astonishing feats.
In some ways, those might be even stranger than arrows turning midair.
Yet the riders were shocked because of ingrained perceptions.
They saw their weapons as extensions of their hands and bodies.
In a world where martial physique techniques were commonplace.
Even the most unique ultimate arts or feats, when performed with weapons as body extensions, just elicited a “Oh, something like that exists” reaction.
But archery was different.
It was the act of launching an object—an arrow—away.
Even for those accustomed to martial physique techniques, it was hard to see arrows as extensions of hand and body.
‘It’s no different from severed limbs moving on their own.’
Of course, there were martial physique techniques specializing in archery.
Rare as they were, feats surpassing ordinary archery certainly existed.
Even accounting for that, Arin’s archery was in a league of its own.
‘Even the old man acknowledged it.’
The sheer irrational variability of Arin’s archery had even Johan—who’d seen countless experiences—sticking out his tongue in awe.
[Never in my life have I seen arrows this ridiculously erratic and playful.]
Arin’s archery far exceeded the typical motion possible for arrow projectiles.
Johan said even the martial physique archers he’d met before—Lyn tribe archers included—couldn’t match it.
[That’s no ordinary feat. No matter how you slice it with martial physique techniques, interfering with arrows post-release to that degree? Even those who’ve attained the Domain aren’t guaranteed to pull it off.]
Mana could move objects, but even that required certified 7th dan or higher to attempt.
Yet Arin performed that difficult feat as easily as eating.
As Johan assessed, it was anything but ordinary.
And Yuri had a slight inkling of how Arin wielded that peculiar power.
No, it wasn’t just Yuri—everyone who’d sparred with Arin for ages had a rough guess.
‘That muttering habit of hers.’
Arin often muttered softly just before shooting or brought her lips to the arrowhead.
Lately, the lip-touching habit had lessened, but the muttering persisted.
And whenever she finished, the arrows would glow and fly off.
Along unimaginable, horrifying paths.
How could anyone not notice?
‘What the heck is that? What kind of power?’
Yuri looked down at Arin.
Always bright, the epitome of free-spiritedness.
She seemed to carelessly bare her soul, but Yuri was convinced Arin held more secrets than anyone around her.
The Helga family aside, that unidentified archery and bizarre ability.
There was hardly anything known about Arin.
And beyond that...
‘She hides a ton.’
As Yuri pondered Arin.
The arrows Arin shot reached Michel from various directions.
The moment Michel swung his twin axes to swat all three.
Chirik—.
As if anticipating it, the three arrows veered midair again.
The arrows moved as if possessed by ghosts.
Even in that shocking scene, Michel barely managed to deflect two.
But he failed on the last one, taking it in the back.
Puk—.
Michel staggered from yet another arrow hit.
Still, he didn’t so much as twitch an eyelid and resumed his charge.
As the distance closed in an instant, Arin gritted her teeth, retreating desperately to widen the gap.
All while not forgetting to loose arrows.
Sga— kang—!
Puk—!
Most of Arin’s arrows were smashed by Michel’s hand axes, but invariably one would pierce his body.
What followed was a repetition of that process.
Arin pulling away, Michel closing in.
The pursued and the pursuer.
The arrow-shooter and the one blocking them.
During the ongoing chase, the gap between them barely narrowed.
Arrows rained at steady intervals.
Each time, the number of arrows in Michel’s body increased one by one.
The spectators were horrified.
Arin’s archery was unnatural.
But Michel, enduring it with his body and still charging, was no normal either.
Any ordinary person would be immobile—or at death’s door—yet he moved on calmly, as if feeling no pain.
And the secret to that abnormal movement leaked from Goetz’s lips.
“...Bloody Dummy.”
The secret martial physique technique of Michel Ang, called the “Blood-Soaked Doll.”
It was what propelled him to official 3rd rank in the 48th Cohort.
Its effect was simple.
Erasing bodily pain sensation and maximally amplifying vitality.
Thus allowing movement to the very limit, even when torn and slashed.
At a glance, it resembled the famous berserker martial physique technique.
But they were distinctly different.
Berserkers lost reason in exchange for breaking physical limits and massively amplifying power.
Bloody Dummy offered no power boost.
Instead, Bloody Dummy preserved “reason.”
Not turning into a mindless rampaging berserker, it suppressed pain while maximally amplifying vitality, turning the user into a moving corpse.
That’s why Goetz worried for Arin.
‘Now that he’s using that... Michel won’t go down easily.’
The way to counter Bloody Dummy was simple.
Subdue the opponent before they activate it.
But if they had already activated Bloody Dummy, the counters were the user stopping it themselves...
‘...Or killing them.’
Goetz fervently prayed nothing bad happened to Arin.
* * *
Clatter—.
Her hand entering the quiver felt empty space.
Arin’s expression hardened as she felt the few arrows left at her fingertips.
‘About... ten remaining?’
She’d brought fifty arrows today total.
In other words, forty had been used so far.
Proving it, arrows bristled all over Michel’s body like a porcupine.
Arin was fed up.
‘What the hell is that body made of?’
Wounds that would have killed or immobilized any normal person long ago.
Yet Michel still moved with such a body.
‘If I’d been slower than him? If it turned into close quarters instead of range?’
She’d have had to face a monster that kept moving no matter how wounded.
So Arin had to admit it.
‘Lucky matchup.’
Perfect matchup advantage for her.
The opponent wasn’t particularly fast or strong.
Just endless stamina and vitality.
If it were someone with close-range weapons instead of her, that unyielding, unfalling figure would be pure terror.
Only then did Arin realize why Michel Ang ranked 3rd in the 48th Cohort.
She agonized.
‘How the hell do you take down something like that? Does the guy really not die?’
Grumbling to herself, a sudden doubt struck Arin.
‘...Doesn’t die? For real?’
After losing that much blood.
After taking that many wounds?
‘And yet... he really doesn’t die?’
Was that even possible?
That doubt loosened her tightly drawn bowstring slightly.
She fled at full speed without drawing again.
As that repeated, Michel’s movement suddenly halted.
“You...”
Keeping distance, Michel glared at Arin with murder in his eyes.
“What are you doing?”
Drenched head to toe in blood.
His fierce glare fixed on Arin as a low growl escaped.
Faced with that perilous sight, Arin replied with a stiff face.
“If we keep going... you’ll die, senior.”
“Ha?”
“So... stop.”
Arin spoke in a quiet, coaxing tone.
Michel’s shoulders began to shake.
“Kuk... kuhuhuhu.”
He looked at her in disbelief.
“Kuhuhu, die? Me?”
“I don’t know how you’re moving right now, senior... but that power must have side effects, right?”
“So?”
“Pardon?”
“Why are you worrying about it?”
“Why? Well, obviously...”
“Are you stupid, naive, or pitying me?”
“......”
“Ah, I get it!”
A vicious smile curled Michel’s lips.
“You turn my body into this rag and now that it’s time to actually kill... you’re scared?”
Michel swept back his hair with a bloody hand.
Arin’s shoulders trembled faintly under his mocking gaze.
Michel’s sneer deepened.
“You pathetic bitch, in this sword lord’s era, right in the heartland of Yoram... hesitating to kill now.”
His sharp, blame-laden words shredded Arin.
“It’s humiliating that someone without even that resolve was my opponent.”
“......”
“From the moment I stepped into this arena... I’ve been giving my all to kill you!”
With that shout, Michel’s axes glowed red-hot.
And then.
Boom—!
With a ground-shattering explosion, Michel’s form lunged at Arin.
Michel’s sudden assault.
Arin’s reaction was a beat late.
Even so, the distance wasn’t one leap away.
Otherwise, Michel would’ve caught her ages ago.
But Michel, knowing one leap wouldn’t suffice, had prepared the next move.
This leap was mere setup for it.
Chwak—.
Blood sprayed as several arrows were yanked free.
Michel hurled the ones embedded in him at Arin.
Shieeeek—!
Arrows flying like hidden weapons.
Lacking the original owner’s bizarre paths, they weren’t hugely threatening but amply disrupted Arin’s path.
And Michel hadn’t thrown just one or two.
He rapidly plucked and flung the dozens he’d collected in his body.
Shik shik—.
Arin’s expression grew desperate dodging the incoming arrows.
Seeing it, Michel burst into mad laughter.
“Kraahaha! That’s it... that’s it!”
Each dodge by Arin shrank the gap between her and Michel.
Then Arin realized.
‘Ah, this guy... he gathered my arrows all along planning this!’
To make her complacent.
For this one move.
Michel had endured, taking all those arrows in his body.
Turning hideous in the process.
‘It’s just a match... just a damn match, why go that far?’
Arin gritted her teeth, watching Michel close in.
“I’ll be right there, so stay put! Kraahaha!”
Threatening arrows flying fast.
Murderous intent surging toward her.
Damp blood scent closing from all sides.
In that amalgam, past voices awakened, ringing in her ears.
Bright, warm, cozy voices.
[Arin, my small, cute little princess... don’t try so hard at everything. Just... live happily and freely. Always happy...]
Dark, cold, emotionless voices.
[Sacrifice yourself to restore the family’s glory. Even if your existence crumbles in the process... that is your sole reason for being.]
Cold yet warm... warm but cold, moist voices.
[G... go. And never... come back.]
The suppressed past voices surged, swirling chaotically in Arin’s mind.
Her clear eyes clouded over.
‘Can’t I just... live freely and half-assed? Why must I go all out every time?’
By then, Michel had reached five steps from Arin.
A cruel smile on his lips.
“If you lack the resolve to kill your enemy!”
Four steps.
Doubt flickered in Arin’s eyes.
‘Why?’
Three steps, Michel raising his axes high.
“Then you die!”
Two steps, Arin’s doubt turned to rage as strength surged into her drawing arm.
‘...Why do I have to die?’
And the final step.
The moment Michel’s axes crossed in an X toward Arin.
Shik—.
The white bowstring snapped loose.