Chapter 271: Lainella's Fate is Decided by Lainella (64)
Chapter 271: Lainella's Fate is Decided by Lainella (64)
It was a sight hard to believe, even with one’s own eyes.
A lone man was charging forward.
Countless lumps of flesh rose to block his path. Every time they did, blood inevitably sprayed into the air, tracing a crimson trajectory.
Crushing, smashing, and sometimes leaping over them.
Though he cleared away a staggering number of obstacles as he advanced, his speed never faltered.
For a mere swordsman, it was an incredibly impressive display.
No matter how powerful an Expert was, they had their limits.
Unless they were the monsters known as 'Masters,' an individual could not take on an entire legion. There was always an end to one's physical strength and mana.
However, there was something fundamentally different about this man’s conduct.
Every living creature possesses an instinct for self-preservation.
This was no different for martial artists who had reached the pinnacle of their craft. In fact, those in higher positions often knew better than anyone how to preserve their own bodies.
That was why it was impossible for an individual to face an army.
It was a feat that could only be accomplished by dodging and countering every single blow raining down from all directions. To keep one's body intact required an extreme consumption of mental fortitude.
Yet, this man fought as if he were eager to reach his absolute limit.
It was as if he didn't care what happened to his own flesh and bone.
Blood seeped from scratches and torn wounds.
His clothes had long since been reduced to tatters, and his entire body was so blood-soaked that it was impossible to tell where he had been injured.
The powerhouses leading the refugee procession remained silent.
By heightening their Insight, they could secure superhuman vision. They were all watching the man’s sprint in unison.
Of course, there were those moved by that desperate struggle.
However, the sentiments of the majority were quite the opposite.
"This is insane..."
It was a sound that could have been either admiration or a groan.
Reynold let out a curse for the first time in a long while. The sight captured by his eyes was enough to make him doubt his own vision.
Is he in his right mind?
This was a question shared not only by Reynold but by everyone watching the man’s progress.
Combat was not something where victory or defeat was decided by mere resolve or will.
If the world were that easy, everyone would be writing their own heroic tales.
Granted, there were decisive moments where a difference in mental strength separated life from death. The battles of masters were often decided by the thinnest of margins.
But the enemy the man had to face was not human.
It was a monster out of myth, and there wasn't just one.
Soon, the resurrected corpses would rise.
When that happened, a legion of corpses, including the lumps of flesh, would be organized. It was a scale that could never be faced alone.
This was nothing short of a suicide attempt.
If anyone else had been doing it, Reynold might have simply sneered at their foolhardiness. The problem was that the idiot in question happened to be Ian.
He immediately looked around.
As the powerhouses leading the procession stopped, the refugees also halted, whispering among themselves.
In their eyes, they could only see the faint spread of crimson in the distance.
Nevertheless, they soon grasped the general situation.
The atmosphere had grown far too heavy.
Someone was challenging an impossible feat.
Realizing this, voices began to drift among the refugees, speculating on the identity of that poor challenger.
They had no idea that their beloved second young master was charging into the jaws of death.
It was fortunate, at least, that the refugees did not recognize the man’s identity.
Unlike them, those who realized who the man was reacted immediately.
"Master!"
It was a desperate cry.
The source of that voice was Elsie, who was attending to Reynold.
Her eyes were wide with shock, and she was already stomping her feet in agitation.
She looked ready to bolt forward at any second.
Reynold squeezed his eyes shut, as if he had expected this.
The situation was no different elsewhere.
"Ian!"
The Saintess shook off even Yuren’s hand as he tried to hold her back and took a step forward.
Yuren also placed a hand on his forehead, looking as if he had a massive headache.
Anxiety clouded the Saintess’s face.
The way she kept glancing around made it clear she wanted to run to him this instant.
Celine had already gripped her sword, poised to kick off the ground.
The one who stopped them was Arthur, the Administrator of the Empire.
"...Stop!"
The women, who had been hesitating, all paused at once.
As their attention shifted to him, Arthur spoke in a bitter voice.
"Are you all in your right minds? Surely you aren't suggesting we join that fight?"
"No, but right now, Master is...!"
"He is a man who will return soon anyway."
There was conviction in Arthur’s voice.
And conviction always added a layer of persuasiveness.
The group’s gaze lingered on him for a moment.
"Young Master Ian is no fool. For whatever reason, he is charging at that monster right now, but..."
As he spoke, Arthur shifted his gaze elsewhere.
A massive entity, over dozens of meters tall, was moving with thundering footsteps.
The monster actually seemed pleased by the challenger’s presence.
The head, composed of hundreds, thousands of faces, erupted into a mad laughter all at once.
A flash of intense terror passed through Arthur’s eyes.
Just looking at that hideous creature invoked a primal fear in the living.
It was a reaction engraved into instinct.
Arthur swallowed hard and continued.
"...He will realize the reality of the situation soon enough."
"And if he doesn't?"
It was a sharp retort from the Saintess.
She, who was always benevolent, transformed the moment it concerned the man she loved.
A chilling light even flickered within her pale pink eyes.
She questioned Arthur again.
"What if he doesn't give up and keeps fighting?"
"That won't happen. Why would he throw his life away in a fight with no odds of victory?"
Arthur continued, almost pleadingly.
"On the contrary, we must secure an escape route so that Young Master Ian can be safe when he retreats. I'm not saying we should abandon him; I'm saying we need to move more efficiently."
"...Ian isn't that kind of person."
It was a single sentence, tossed out casually.
Arthur’s gaze followed the speaker. There, black hair swayed in the wind.
It was Celine.
Among those with a voice here, she was the one who knew Ian best.
"To me, Ian looks completely serious right now... When he's like that, no one can stop him."
"How can you be so sure?"
Arthur, of course, did not give in to Celine’s words so easily.
He wanted to leave this place immediately.
In truth, if Ian weren't the owner of the Dragon Blood Runes, Arthur might have suggested they leave him behind and flee.
He was a desk-bound scholar; he possessed neither great ambition nor an unshakable heart of iron.
He was merely an ordinary administrative official.
It was difficult for him to maintain his composure in such a crisis.
"Miss Haster, can you actually see Young Master Ian clearly right now?"
"Th-that's not it, but..."
Celine lowered her head, her face flushing with shame.
Among the group, she seemed to be the only one unable to see Ian.
It was because it was still impossible for her to track Ian with her current level of skill.
Feeling as though her own inadequacy was being laid bare for all to see, Celine cast her gaze downward.
Unlike the suddenly depressed Celine, Arthur let out a sigh of relief.
"No matter how close you are, it's difficult to guess Sir Ian’s feelings from this distance. If we are to ask for an opinion... Sir Reynold."
Reynold’s indifferent eyes turned toward Arthur.
He was a powerhouse who had reached the level of an Archmage.
Naturally, he was the one who could witness Ian’s struggle most clearly.
While Elsie and the Saintess could only capture the general scene, he was different. Even Ian’s expression, filled with resolve, was vividly caught in his sight.
It might have been different if the power the Saintess possessed was mana instead of divine power.
However, the Saintess was specialized in healing and support; her innate physical prowess was not particularly high. Even now, she was barely tracking Ian by relying on sensory enhancement magic.
Reynold cast his gaze forward, as if contemplating for a moment.
Ian had already narrowed the distance to the Corpse Giant to less than half of what it had been.
No matter how one looked at it, he didn't seem like he was about to give up halfway.
However, there was a strange feeling.
Is he aiming for something?
The fighting style was excessively reckless, yet his face didn't look like that of a man who had given up on life.
Reynold thought deeply at this point.
Should he trust Ian’s hidden move, or not?
If he chose the former, it was right to mobilize all their forces immediately.
Conversely, if he chose the latter, it was better to side with Arthur here.
At this rate, Ian would surely die.
Reynold was not a man so cold-hearted that he would stand by and watch the death of a young man with a bright future.
But more than that, he had been weathered by the storms of time.
Hope and resolve were themes far too antiquated for him.
They had been forgotten along with the one woman Reynold had truly loved.
And above all, Reynold was a man of the Lainella family.
Count Lainella would never want to commit precious forces at this point.
Upholding the will of the head of the family was the duty of a noble.
Even if it meant adding a small lie to achieve it.
He spoke with a bitter smile inside.
"...It seems he was acting out of spite. I can already see him hesitating. It would be better to dispatch an elite few to secure an escape route."
What if he didn't return even after an escape route was secured?
That was out of the question.
He was a man who had lost his territory and whose family was entangled with the Dark Cult.
His skill was certainly worth acknowledging, but if he insisted on committing suicide, there was no reason for the Lainella family to bear the loss.
At Reynold’s testimony, the women seemed to soften slightly.
Unlike Arthur, Reynold, a battle-hardened veteran, appeared trustworthy even at a glance.
However, it didn't take long for that atmosphere to shift once again.
Uuuuuuuuuuuu—!
The Corpse Giant, which had been moving slowly until a moment ago, suddenly began to sprint.
Dozens of flesh chunks were crushed to death beneath it, but the Corpse Giant didn't care in the slightest.
It simply ran and ran, stopping right in front of Ian.
And then, its massive fist slammed down toward the ground.
It was a scene comparable to a meteor impact.
The group’s eyes widened in an instant.
"...Master!"
Along with Elsie’s scream, the world shook with a heavy thump.
The man stood alone, confronting the monster of myth.