Chapter 253: Lainella's Fate is Decided by Lainella (46)
Chapter 253: Lainella's Fate is Decided by Lainella (46)
It had only been a few minutes.
That was the time it took for the man to drink a potion of unknown purpose, lose consciousness, and wake up again.
In truth, the interval was so short it was almost embarrassing to call it 'a few minutes.' At most, it had been a minute or two.
However, that slim margin was more than enough to turn the tide of the battlefield.
Mitram, who had dominated the situation until now, stared at the man in silence.
Her face was now visibly strained with tension. Beads of sweat had begun to form on her pale forehead.
It was a transformation no one could understand.
Whatever he had done, the opponent was still Ian Percus. His appearance was the same, and his internal mana remained unchanged in both quality and quantity. No matter how one looked at it, there was no reason for Mitram to be this wary.
And yet, Mitram could not shake the terror etched into her very instincts.
Beyond the realm of reason, her intuition was screaming at her.
This man is different.
Ian Percus had been a strong and dangerous opponent from the start, but he was nothing compared to the Ian Percus standing before her now.
I might die.
For the first time since becoming a Dark Priest decades ago, Mitram gasped as the possibility occurred to her. She was a woman who had enjoyed eternal life and youth by hopping through countless bodies.
Her obsession with life was stronger than anyone's.
Unable to overcome her anxiety, a desperate shriek erupted from Mitram’s lips.
"Y-you're the only one left anyway! You couldn't do anything even when you came in a pack, so what on earth can you do alone...!"
"A lot," the man replied in a dry voice.
It was the simple, direct language of the strong.
That was why Mitram felt even more chilled to the bone. Those words were undoubtedly the man's unvarnished sincerity.
The man took a step forward, sword in hand.
"Watch closely. I'll show you, one by one, starting now."
Mitram could no longer bear it and barked orders at her test subjects.
"...Kill him this instant!"
Not a trace remained of her previous composure or mockery. Mitram ground her teeth, abandoning even her formal speech.
Seeing the fear dwelling in her eyes, the man swallowed a hollow laugh.
"Quick on the uptake, aren't you?" the man muttered, and two heavily armed test subjects lunged at once.
Their massive bodies, hurtling like metallic cannonballs, carved a terrifying sonic boom through the air.
Yet, the man didn't even flinch. He simply continued his stride, letting the point of his sword drop toward the lower left.
And in the next moment—
Splatter!
Blood sprayed into the air.
Mitram’s eyes widened. The rest of the party reacted similarly, but Seria’s reaction was particularly intense.
Seven claw-like marks were engraved in the air.
Crimson blood erupted along those silver threads. It was the trace of life spilled by the test subjects who had charged the man.
The sight of the two giants being sliced apart along with their armor felt almost surreal.
It wasn't just the armor. Even the blades they were about to swing fell away in pieces along the silver cross-sections. The metal, having lost its support, tumbled down with a mournful clatter.
The name of that peak killing art escaped Seria’s lips.
"...The Golden Silk Sword!"
And with seven strands of the Golden Silk Sword, his proficiency was on par with the Marquis Yurdina in his prime.
It was only natural for Seria to wear an expression of utter disbelief.
Of course, the man didn't seem to care one way or the other.
As severed body parts tumbled down amidst a shower of blood, Mitram, who had been wearing a dazed expression, began to stammer and sob.
"M-my... my masterpieces... how...?"
"I told you," the man said, wading through the spilled blood and entrails. "There's a lot I can do... and I'm far from finished."
Blood finally rushed to Mitram’s eyes as her body trembled violently. Biting her lip, she spread her arms wide.
Black smoke billowed up from the ground.
It was the power of the Evil God.
Even so, no change could be read on the man's face. There was no sign of frustration, fear, or anxiety. On the contrary, his expression lacked even confidence or bloodlust.
He simply kept walking, step by step.
As the distance between them closed, Mitram grew even more frantic.
With a wave of her hand as if conducting an orchestra, all the enemies—except for the test subjects pinning down the rest of the party—rushed toward the man.
There was one test subject in exceptionally high-quality armor, two with daggers, and in the rear, one with a bow and another holding a wire with a weighted pendulum.
Each was a formidable foe that had troubled the party. Mitram’s masterpieces, handpicked and crafted over decades, could not possibly be ordinary.
Against two, perhaps, but with five of them attacking at once, even this man should have been hard-pressed.
As if meeting Mitram’s expectations, the man’s response changed as the five subjects closed in.
His figure kicked off the ground and shot forward. It was a sign that he was engaging in earnest.
The man reached the armored test subject in an instant.
Startled by the man's sudden proximity, the subject hurriedly swung its sword down. However, the subject didn't even get the chance to benefit from having its weapon ready.
Clang!
The subject's sword slid harmlessly away, guided by the man's blade as he slashed upward with a reverse grip.
Though the path had only been altered slightly, the test subject was completely unable to react. As if he had expected this, the man tightened his grip on his sword.
Having brushed aside the subject's blade, the man's sword drew a silver horizontal line.
The armor was sturdy, but it had no way to withstand the man's Aura. A single helmeted head soared into the sky.
Simultaneously, the dagger-wielding subjects closed in.
The streaks of light launched from both his flanks were incredibly fast. It was enough to make one think that no matter how fast the man's reaction was, he wouldn't be able to keep up.
But that misconception was corrected shortly after.
Crack! Crack!
Two consecutive bolts of lightning struck down.
There was no other way to describe it but 'lightning.' Mitram’s mouth hung open, her eyes filled with disbelief.
"W-what...!"
Even in her decades of life, she had never seen such a fast sword strike.
The horizontally swung blade immediately struck both sides, leaving piercing wounds in the chests of the two test subjects. Unable to withstand the momentum, the upper bodies of the two subjects were thrown backward.
Naturally, the paths of the two streaks of light aimed at the man were diverted.
The aftershocks of the supersonic sword strike didn't stop there.
With a booming explosion, a small storm swept the area. The bodies of the two fallen subjects were caught in the shockwave. Their corpses were sent tumbling away, spinning haphazardly.
That wasn't all.
The incoming arrow was knocked off course, and the wire aiming for an opening flailed wildly in the chaos.
In a single strike, every threat directed at the man had been neutralized.
It was as if a literal bolt of lightning had struck the earth.
From within that violent turbulence, a blade suddenly lunged out.
It was the sword the man had been holding.
The sword, flying in a straight line, instantly pierced the forehead of the test subject holding the bow. Then, after cleaving through the skull, it changed its trajectory once more.
The Secret of Stillness in Motion.
Because this was a technique she knew well, Mitram exerted all her strength to control the last remaining test subject.
The subject dropped into a crouch as if collapsing. A silver streak of light grazed just above its head.
It was a razor-thin margin.
For the first time, a glimmer of joy appeared in Mitram’s eyes as she watched the battle.
One could only change the trajectory of a thrown weapon once—at least, as far as she knew.
If so, the man should have no weapons left.
She couldn't rule out the possibility of him picking up a weapon from the ground, so she had to counterattack immediately.
Having made a split-second judgment, Mitram was about to give an order when she froze.
A bizarre sight had caught her eye.
The sword was spinning in place.
It was a phenomenon impossible by natural means. Realizing this, Mitram’s face instantly turned pale.
Thwack!
The sword sliced through the neck of the crouching test subject. It was a clean decapitation, like an executioner beheading a condemned prisoner.
The spinning sword, drenched in blood, slammed into the ground before returning once again to the man's hand.
It wasn't once, but three times. That was the number of times the trajectory had changed before the man finished off the two subjects and retrieved his sword.
It was the man's weary voice that snapped Mitram out of her daze.
The man spoke in his usual indifferent tone.
"...It's troublesome if you think I'm on the same level as that novice."
With those words, the body of the last remaining test subject slumped to the ground.
Now, the only ones left were the test subjects pinning down the party.
However, using them to face the man would only result in increasing the opponent's strength. If she couldn't handle him now, there was no hope once he had backup.
She knew this.
Even though she knew, Mitram was so drenched in vivid terror that she almost screamed instinctively.
Stop that man right now.
Stop that leisurely stride and make sure he can't come any closer.
Mitram shrieked hysterically.
"If you come any closer, your comrades' lives are—!"
Pop! Pop! Pop!
The heads of the test subjects pinning down the party burst like balloons.
It was the result of the man snatching a dagger from the ground and throwing it.
The party members were equally stunned by how easily the enemy forces had been neutralized. They couldn't even move until the grip pinning them down loosened and the headless bodies slumped beside them one by one.
They simply stared at the man, their breath held.
The man didn't even spare a glance at his companions. He simply resumed the walk he had momentarily paused.
Mitram resisted until the very end.
"D-don't come any closer!"
Suddenly, the head of a test subject that had sprouted from the ground turned red.
A precursor to an explosion. Without a hint of surprise, the man turned the flat of his blade forward.
And in that instant, as the explosion roared—
Boom!
The man struck the epicenter of the explosion with the flat of his sword.
The shockwave fanned out in a cone, leaving a trail of blood and destruction. Its direction was exactly opposite to where the man stood—right toward Mitram.
Mitram’s body was tossed into the air before rolling across the ground.
Her teeth chattered, testifying that her anxiety and agitation had reached their peak.
He was an impossible opponent. To adjust the range of an explosion at will and even set its direction?
Mitram thought of every possible means of response, but no answer came. No matter what logic she applied, the conclusion was always the same.
Her death.
The man's declaration was becoming reality.
Unwilling to accept this, Mitram desperately racked her brain. Her decades-long obsession with life poured lubricant into her mind.
And so, Mitram found her lifeline.
The tremors in the woman's body subsided, and a giggling laugh began to leak out.
Mitram’s eyes, tinged with a faint madness, turned toward the man. She looked somewhat pathetic, sprawled on the ground and clutching her head, but it didn't matter. What mattered to Mitram now was her life.
She had come up with a brilliant idea.
"Ian Percus... you are strong."
The man's steps, now within arm's reach of the woman, stopped.
As if willing to hear what she had to say, his eyes, burning with golden light, turned toward Mitram.
Mitram mixed giggles into her voice.
"Wonderful, marvelous! I don't know what trick you used, but even the test subjects' regeneration isn't working... However, there is one fact you've overlooked!"
The man's closed lips showed no sign of opening.
Interpreting this in her own way, Mitram spoke with even more excitement. She was so thrilled she was practically bouncing as she pushed herself up.
"The realization of a grand plan prepared for over ten years is right before us... right here in the Percus Territory! Oh, the Lord's subordinate shall descend upon this place! Hundreds will die and thousands will be injured... The ritual has already begun, so if I am gone, it will proceed as planned."
She didn't seem to be lying.
Anyone would think so. No matter how devious a Dark Priest might be, they couldn't mix lies into words screamed so haphazardly in a fit of madness.
Thus, the atmosphere in the clearing plummeted instantly. It was a terrifying conspiracy just to hear of it.
Reading the mood, Mitram flashed an even deeper smile.
"You'll have to let me live, Ian Percus... unless you want to see the people of your territory, whom you cherish so much, die and get hurt."
The woman stood up unsteadily. Wearing the smile of a victor, she spread her arms to her sides.
Then she shouted.
"Now, lower your sword! And tell me to cancel the ritu—ack?!"
Before she could even finish her sentence.
A silver flash traversed the air.
It was a trajectory that crossed exactly through Mitram’s neck.
Mitram’s head soared into the sky. That was the final expression Mitram wore in her life.
A face frozen in shock and disbelief.
Watching Mitram’s body stagger as it gushed blood, the man spoke in a tone devoid of even a shred of emotion.
"...Go ahead then."
It was the end of the Dark Priestess who had clung so tenaciously to life.