Chapter 345: Bread and Dagger (43)
Chapter 345: Bread and Dagger (43)
Metal clashes against metal in a deadly dance.
Every time sparks flew, the symphony was joined by the spray of blood and the harmony of screams. The gushing blood was already beginning to warm the freezing snowfield, staining it crimson.
The Elf soldiers were no match for me.
Even if they somehow managed to parry one of my strikes, they would invariably fall to the follow-up. In fact, most of them couldn't even manage a single exchange.
It was largely due to the poor quality of their weapons.
Some Elves lost their lives when their swords were snapped clean through. Many were armed with equipment made of wood rather than metal.
Rather than a regular army representing their race, they looked more like a ragtag militia.
Even the word 'army' felt like a stretch. It would have been more accurate to call them a band of brigands.
Still, they seemed to have a few pieces of equipment looted from humans, and a handful of Elves who possessed decent skill were trying to block my path.
Of course, they only managed to delay me for a few seconds.
Clang, clang, clang!
My sword, thrust at high speed, hammered against the flat of an Elf’s blade in rapid succession. It was an exchange of only three blows, but the Elf staggered visibly with every strike he endured.
His end was inevitable.
Thwack! I tore through an opening and pierced the Elf’s heart.
The moment the sword’s point was withdrawn, blood erupted in a violent surge. The Elf tried to resist until the very end, clutching at my blade, but against Aura, elven flesh was far too frail.
I had already killed over a dozen.
It was a better result than I had feared. If I could rack up this many kills on my own, the hundreds of Elven raiders would be dealt with in no time.
More importantly, the fact that my companions had begun to engage in earnest made a huge difference.
"O Light, overflow!"
White electrical charges crackled and surged.
As the light began to flood the area, the Elves shrieked and their bodies convulsed. The Elven mages belatedly stepped forward, but Senior Elsie was a powerhouse even among high-ranking mages.
While they were paralyzed, Yuren and I tore through the battlefield.
The Elves whose muscles had seized up were actually harder to cut through because of the rigor. Of course, even that was no obstacle for experts like Yuren and me.
The Princess was also performing her role faithfully.
"O stars, O light, trajectories of truth coming from beyond the hazy dream... become a pouring rain and strike the world. Banquet of Stars!"
Her voice trembled, but she managed to complete the spell.
The ripples it created were immense.
Like candles being lit, spheres of pale blue mana began to line up in the sky. Their numbers grew one by one until there were dozens.
A few Elves noticed the suspicious signs, but it was already too late.
The light bombs poured down like a torrential rain.
Explosions thundered every time a sphere detonated. The ground was upended, and several Elves nearby collapsed with agonizing screams.
Some even had a limb or two torn clean off.
In the distance, I saw the Princess, her face pale as a ghost. She was staggering, even gagging as if she might vomit.
The carnage she had created with her own hands must have been too horrific for her to bear.
It was understandable.
It wasn't just snow and dirt flying through the air.
It was chunks of flesh, blood, severed limbs, and heads that glared at me until the very end as if in resentment.
Is this hell?
For a moment, I thought of the riverbank in Beneta. I remembered that voice filled with madness, claiming that life was a prison and even death was a liberation.
I could empathize with it, just a little.
Only a very little, though.
I grit my teeth and pushed deeper into the Elven lines. My goal was to collapse their front line entirely.
That was when the atmosphere changed.
The moment I took a step forward, I felt the Elves retreating in perfect unison.
Before long, a vacuum formed around me. Since the soldiers who were supposed to hold the line had moved aside, I had no choice but to stop.
No, actually, there was another reason I stopped.
The gait of the few individuals approaching me was peculiar.
They were clearly walking, yet they left no footprints on the snow.
It was a unique footwork I had never seen, even at the Academy. I stood still and faced the four or five Elves approaching me.
Before I knew it, Yuren was by my side.
He seemed to have felt the same sense of dissonance.
He stopped for a moment, observing the Elven swordsman’s stride with an intrigued look in his eyes.
"What do you think? Do you recognize it?"
"I'm not entirely sure, but I think I've heard of it. Back when we were in full-scale war with the Elves, they said there were some who could walk on puddles without leaving a single ripple."
Even at a glance, it didn't sound like an ordinary tale.
I let out a dry, hollow laugh.
"They look like they'll be a pain to deal with."
"Maybe if you were alone."
Yuren tapped my shoulder.
Then, he flashed his characteristic bellicose smirk.
"Shall we see who kills more?"
"Not a bad—!"
It was a distasteful comment that disregarded human life, but I didn't bother to point it out.
I felt like I needed to think that way just to keep my mind at ease.
The moment I kicked off the ground, the world seemed to split. And at the end of that frozen time, I was already standing before an Elven swordsman with my blade drawn.
Come to think of it, that's what the Elf soldiers called them.
They told them to bring the 'Sword-wielders.'
It seemed the Elves used the title 'Sword-wielder' specifically for those who mastered the blade. Indeed, they carried an aura unique enough to warrant a separate name.
Even though he was right in front of me, it felt as if his very existence had been erased.
He was like a mist.
My silver Aura slashed out like a bolt of lightning. It was a high-speed strike falling from the upper left to the lower right—a speed an ordinary soldier wouldn't even be able to react to.
But the Sword-wielders were different.
His body slid back naturally, as if he were gliding. Then, he immediately lunged forward, aiming for my opening.
Of course, no matter how fast he was, he couldn't compare to my reaction speed.
I dodged it easily and was about to deliver a fatal thrust.
Suddenly, a strange sense of dissonance hit my senses.
Beyond mere sight, a certain intuition sent me a warning.
That was when my body flinched and twisted.
It was a trajectory that took me far away from the Sword-wielder's thrust, even at the cost of giving up the chance to slit his throat.
By all rights, the Sword-wielder's blade shouldn't have even grazed me.
And yet, a sharp edge sliced thinly through my clothes.
I let out a stunned laugh.
There were two blades.
I didn't know the principle behind it. I lunged in, refusing to give him any breathing room.
Once again, a blade lashed out convulsively.
Because I had dodged so far back, I had given the Elf time to reset his stance. I parried one blade with my sword.
The invisible blade shattered, and the metal blade came flying toward me.
However, if there was one thing the Elven Sword-wielder had overlooked, it was that I also had another weapon.
My free hand, which I had intentionally kept back, drew my hand axe like a bolt of lightning.
Clang! Sparks flew as the Elven Sword-wielder's sword was sent flying into the air. He hadn't been able to withstand the sudden impact.
The Sword-wielder, who had been silent the whole time, finally widened his eyes in shock.
That was his final expression.
Thwack! The hand axe slammed down, splitting his skull.
I checked the remaining Sword-wielders.
Yuren had taken another head, leaving three.
Two of them were charging toward me.
There was no need to play along with their bizarre swordsmanship one by one.
Gritting my teeth, I hurled my hand axe.
Thrum! The rebound force created a ripple in the air. The hand axe, flying at high speed, hammered against the swords of the two Elven Sword-wielders in succession.
Clang, clang.
As the hand axe spun through the air, I was grateful for the fact that my opponents were Elves.
They wouldn't have heard the rumors about the dancing hand axe.
Crunch! The hand axe slammed down, cleaving one Elven Sword-wielder like a log.
While the other Sword-wielder froze in shock at the display, I threw my sword—something I hadn't done in a very long time.
The blade shrieked through the air as it lunged.
The Elven Sword-wielder gasped and parried it. He even kept his eyes on it for a moment, fearing it might change its trajectory in mid-air again.
But in a duel between masters, looking away was a fatal mistake.
Thud! My kick, which had followed right behind the sword, slammed into the Sword-wielder's solar plexus.
The Sword-wielder coughed up blood and stumbled back. Crouching low, I swept the ground and grabbed the hand axe that had been embedded there.
This was the final exchange.
As the Sword-wielder swung his blade in a desperate last-ditch effort, I threw myself into his guard. A hand axe was shorter than a sword, making it more advantageous the closer you were to the enemy.
Just like now.
Crack! The hand axe swung upward from below, cleanly shattering the Sword-wielder's jaw.
The silence was brief.
With a dull thud, the Elven Sword-wielder collapsed, ending the skirmish.
Yuren finished off his opponent a few seconds later.
He scratched his head in annoyance.
"Ah, the axe is cheating..."
"If it bothers you so much, get one for yourself."
We were joking, but I still didn't feel good.
It was the first time I had taken so many lives.
Not monsters, but the lives of sentient beings.
Part of me wanted to just drink myself into a stupor and go to sleep.
But the battlefield does not wait for sorrow.
I felt more presences approaching. More Elven Sword-wielders.
Just how many of them were there?
Just as I was feeling a throbbing headache coming on...
"Go on ahead."
Yuren spoke to me as if it were no big deal.
I glanced at him. My friend was wearing a smirk.
"We had a bet, didn't we? So, while I hold these guys off, you go and take out the strongest one, just like you always do."
I looked behind me.
I could see several soldiers creeping toward Yuren and me. But further back, the Yurdina soldiers led by Sir Alex were surging forward.
The Elves would soon be swept away by that tidal wave.
Yuren just had to hold out for a little while.
There was a chance of victory.
I nodded once instead of answering. Yuren stood his ground, sword in hand, without a word.
It was time to move.
Perhaps because I had pushed quite deep into their lines, there weren't many soldiers blocking my path.
Archers and mages were a nuisance. But once a swordsman is allowed to reach the backline, the battle is as good as over.
Before long, I came face to face with an old man.
Elves were a race that remained eternally young.
They didn't age until just before they died. And yet, what was this old man?
Was he a corpse on the verge of death?
Looking at his hunched back and frail frame, he certainly seemed like one. His joints were twisted from malnutrition.
He looked like he wouldn't even be able to move without the staff he was leaning on.
When I hesitated for a moment, the old man gave me a bright, pure smile.
It was an innocent laugh.
"Welcome, young man... I had prepared everything, but I never imagined such a variable would exist."
"Bread for bread, a dagger for a dagger."
The old man's eyes turned mysterious at the phrase I threw out.
He waited for my next words with an amused expression. I took a deep breath and leveled my sword at him.
"I heard that's an Elven proverb... I suppose it's my turn to return the dagger?"
"Indeed it is."
With that, the old man tossed his staff onto the ground.
The staff rolled away with a lonely clatter. I looked at the old Elf with confusion.
Was he not a mage?
"Bread for bread, a dagger for a dagger... It is our ancient proverb. But think of it this way. Think of how many daggers we have received."
That was when a bizarre sight unfolded.
Snap! The old man's hunched back straightened.
Crack, pop, crunch.
With every sound of bones snapping into place, the old man's frame grew larger. His clothes, which had looked baggy at first, began to look tight.
And then, the clothes burst apart.
His muscles continued to swell.
It didn't take long for the small, frail old man to transform into a muscular giant over two meters tall.
I had seen a similar sight once before.
When white fur sprouted and the eyes of an old man who once possessed reason were stained with blood-red savagery.
A curse naturally escaped my lips.
"Son of a..."
It was a Fiend.
Involuntarily, my mind drifted back to my memories of the orphanage.
They were such godawful memories.
It seemed another scar was about to be etched onto that old wound today.