Chapter 170
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 170
As if widening the distance had been his plan all along, Patrick had already shifted his stance. Readjusting his two-handed grip on the hilt, he held the greatsword parallel to the ground, lowered his center of gravity, and coiled for a charge.
It was a thrusting stance.
Claaang!
The metallic clash rang out an instant later.
With his gaze locked on Kurak, Patrick shot forward and lunged for his heart. The strike, however, was blocked by the massive axe blade. As if he had anticipated this, Patrick immediately pulled his sword back and swung his arms wide for a sweeping slash.
Claaaaang!
That strike, too, was parried. Once more, Patrick leveled his blade and thrust at Kurak’s neck, following with a flurry of unpredictable attacks.
Perhaps realizing that a simple exchange of blows wouldn't end the fight, Patrick relentlessly wove thrusts between his slashes.
‘A feint?’
Kurak wasn't about to fall for it.
His axe was more than twice the size of an ordinary one, and Tanabella’s blade was exceptionally wide, making it easy to block any thrust.
The Death Knight claimed to have swung a sword for over a hundred and fifty years, and his skill proved it was no empty boast. A swordsman of his caliber wouldn't rely on simple thrusts to turn the tide in a situation like this.
Clang! Clang!
‘He’s aiming for the joint.’
Every time the sword clashed against the axe, just before pulling back, Patrick subtly shifted the blade’s trajectory. He was repeatedly striking the joint that connected the axe head to its shaft.
Did he think he could dent the joint and shatter the weapon? This was no ordinary axe. Did he honestly believe a few strikes could destroy the ‘Red Axe’?
Kurak scoffed at his opponent's foolishness, but he didn't stop thinking. There had to be a reason for such an absurd tactic. He had to have something to back it up.
‘For instance, an absurd sword.’
Kurak recalled hearing that the Hero who invaded the Primordial Core a few months ago had died, losing the Masterpiece ‘Devouring Sword Tanabella’ in the process—a greatsword the size of a grown man.
—If that sword is indeed the Masterpiece Tanabella, and if its absurd, unique ability can make the impossible possible…?
Whoosh!
Instead of blocking the thrust this time, Kurak spun on his heel to dodge. Patrick, having put his full weight into the lunge, shot past him.
Any ordinary swordsman would have lost their balance, unable to control their momentum. Yet Patrick twisted his body at an impossible angle, drawing his arm far back for a devastating blow.
In that split second, Kurak checked the joint of his axe and frowned.
The joint was perfectly intact, bearing only a few scratches.
It had been a trick after all.
And Kurak, for his part—
"I expected as much."
He unleashed the power coiled deep within his body. Scorching heat erupted from his expanding muscles. Deciding he no longer needed a weapon, he tossed his axe aside.
Grab!
He caught the blade, hurtling toward him at breakneck speed, with a single bare hand.
The sword energy imbued in Tanabella detonated in his palm, yet Kurak was unharmed. Instead, just as he was about to crush Patrick’s momentarily stunned body—
"…!!"
Letting go of his sword, Patrick used the hilt as a springboard to flip into a handstand, launching a kick straight at Kurak's face.
Crack!
The sickening sound of bone twisting echoed. Kurak’s head snapped back violently as blood sprayed from his mouth. If he had been a moment slower, his neck would have snapped.
Yet, he was only shaken.
His stance remained unbroken.
Grabbing the foot that had just struck his face, Kurak hurled Patrick away with all his might.
Boom!
It was a display of overwhelming, monstrous strength.
Unable to resist, Patrick was launched through the air, flying dozens of meters before slamming hard into the stone wall.
Kurak slammed his palm upward against his chin. His dislocated jaw popped back into place with a dull click.
"…I, Kurak, acknowledge you."
Kurak exhaled a long, heavy breath.
The Death Knight was strong.
He was unrivaled among the Gatekeepers of the Great Evil Cave; in fact, his strength was on par with a dungeon boss.
He spat out the blood pooling in his mouth, a bitter smile on his face.
‘To think even a gatekeeper of the Primordial Core would be at this level.’
But you made a critical mistake.
Patrick had been thrown dozens of meters away, but his sword, Tanabella, remained in Kurak’s hand.
It was practically checkmate. For a swordsman to surrender his weapon to the enemy was not just a disgrace, but a fatal blunder.
‘A pity, Death Knight. This victory belongs to me, Kurak—’
…Wait. What?
Kurak’s thoughts ground to a halt.
A sticky sense of dread clung to his skin. He was missing something—a crucial detail that shattered his certainty.
"…"
It was gone.
Completely vanished.
No matter how many times he scanned the ground, his axe was nowhere to be seen.
"Aha."
Patrick's voice drifted over, sounding much closer than before.
Kurak, who had been frantically searching for his weapon, snapped his head up. His bewildered eyes locked onto the spot where Patrick had been thrown.
"Are you looking for this?"
Patrick had already closed half the distance between them. In his hand, he held the very weapon Kurak had been searching for.
An involuntary groan escaped Kurak’s throat.
He had never given the Death Knight a single moment to retrieve the axe. The only possible window was that split second when he had been hurled away.
—Did he seriously snatch the axe while flying through the air?
"Ah, but I'm more surprised than anything. I thought that was a stunning blow, but it seems only my attack was stunned."
Kurak met the jest with stony silence and raised Tanabella. If that feat was real, he couldn't afford a shred of complacency. He could no longer view the Death Knight before him as a mere Gatekeeper of the Great Evil Cave.
"This is a fine axe. Incredibly sturdy."
Patrick examined Kurak's axe from various angles, then swung it through the air as if testing its weight.
"I really did intend to shatter the joint, you know."
The moment the words left his mouth, the distance between them vanished.
Claaaaang!
Their weapons were swapped, but the battle raged on. Deafening clashes echoed through the cavern. Since neither wielded his own weapon, the fight became less about refined technique and more about a raw contest of strength. They dodged, clashed, blocked, and deflected. One would feint a counter, only to lunge for the other's flank.
Slash!
The axe grazed Kurak’s shoulder, and blood welled from the shallow cut. Not to be outdone, Kurak brought the greatsword down toward Patrick’s wrist. The blow barely connected, but it was enough to make Patrick lose his grip on the axe.
The weapon spun wildly through the air between them.
‘That blow wasn’t strong enough to make him drop it.’
He had let go on purpose.
Patrick was deliberately feigning a blunder to lure him into an opening.
If Kurak caught the falling axe while still holding Tanabella, he would be awkwardly holding both weapons, unable to wield either effectively. If he dropped the sword to catch his axe, he would be handing the greatsword right back.
‘I could abandon the axe and just attack, but…’
Clicking his tongue, Kurak let go of Tanabella and snatched his axe from the air. As if anticipating this, Patrick stepped onto a `Glide Panel` spell, sliding forward to catch the falling Tanabella.
Both weapons had returned to their rightful masters.
Kurak and Patrick spun and swung simultaneously.
This time, Patrick was faster.
Rip!
Sharp sword energy tore into Kurak’s abdomen. Having lost the exchange, he rolled backward across the ground. He clutched his stomach, but blood spilled through his fingers.
"...Huff, huff."
He didn't even have time to catch his breath before Patrick was upon him again. The two collided once more.
Kurak parried most of the strikes, deflecting the unavoidable blows to minimize damage. He willingly absorbed minor hits if they created an opening, immediately launching counterattacks.
He infused technique into his clean, monotonous movements, breaking his breathing rhythm to disrupt his opponent's predictions and throwing in feints to sow confusion.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The relentless onslaught continued. Amidst the flurry, Kurak blocked a sudden thrust from Patrick with his left arm.
The tip of the blade pierced straight through his palm. As Patrick tried to wrench the sword free, Kurak unleashed his latent power once more, pinning the blade in place.
"Graaaaaah!"
With a roar, Kurak swung his axe and sliced through Patrick.
Something severed fell to the stone floor with a dull thud. Only then did Patrick manage to wrench his sword free and leap backward.
Patrick’s left forearm lay severed on the ground.
Kurak, who had also retreated, panted heavily.
"Huff… huff… huff…"
He had severed the arm. No matter how little a skeleton cared for balance, losing an entire forearm was bound to throw off its center of gravity.
‘I… I can win.’
Realizing his mindset had shifted from a certain "I will win" to a hopeful "I can win," Kurak took stock of his own body.
It was a wreck.
He was drenched in his own blood.
The dozens of cuts he'd dismissed as shallow had accumulated, making his limbs feel heavy as lead. His conscious mind could no longer keep up, forcing him to rely on instinct. They had exchanged blows that could have served as finishing moves dozens of times over. He was soaked in sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Meanwhile, Patrick—
"…"
He simply stared back, his expressionless face a stark contrast.
Aside from his severed arm and scuffed armor, the Death Knight looked exactly as he had at the start of the duel.
He wasn't tired at all. Only then did Kurak realize the crucial fact he had overlooked in the heat of battle.
His opponent was a skeleton.
He had no organs, no muscles, and no sweat glands. The concept of stamina simply did not apply. As long as the soul bound to his corpse remained intact, he could not die.
Kurak wasn't losing because he lacked skill. On the contrary, their skills were evenly matched.
And because they were evenly matched, Kurak could never win.
"Magnificent," Patrick said. His voice, devoid of its usual playfulness, carried a solemn weight.
Kurak knew the words were spoken with genuine respect, which only made it all the more terrifying.
A tireless monster as strong as a boss of the Great Evil Cave. How many beings in this world could possibly defeat such a creature? And who stood above the bosses of the Great Evil Caves?
Swallow?
"Don't make me laugh."
Kurak grit his teeth. Blood trickled from his mouth, seeping past his crooked tusks.
He channeled every last drop of his remaining strength.
The magic tools adorning his body began to glow—legacies left by his great ancestors, treasures of the Orcs, and the ultimate proof of his status as Orc Legion Commander.
As the surge of power flooded his veins, his body began to creak under the strain.
Kurak had never favored this kind of power. Just as it had been for Chieftains Kaltum and Gakundar, drawing power from the tribe's sacred relics demanded a devastating physical toll.
Power that could not be controlled was not truly one's own.
There were over ten magic tools embedded in his armor. Even for someone like Kurak, who had lived for two centuries, it was impossible for a single body to withstand the strain of activating them all at once.
"Don't even think of dodging. You'd better show me your absolute best."
His muscles began to rupture. His body was tearing itself apart.
Kurak slammed his axe into the ground.
Craaaash!
The ground shattered instantly. The earth erupted in violent, jagged spires. Amidst the churning terrain, Patrick leaped from one rising pillar of stone to another, dodging the upheaval.
But Kurak's pursuit was faster.
He brought his axe down toward Patrick, who raised Tanabella to block.
Boom!
The first strike.
Unable to withstand the sheer force, Patrick was slammed into the ground. Yet he immediately sprang back to his feet, resetting his stance.
Before he could fully recover, another blow rained down.
The second strike.
Reeling from the double impact, Patrick was driven deep into the churning earth, as if the ground itself were swallowing him whole. Any ordinary monster would have been buried alive and crushed.
But as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Patrick shattered the earth burying him and soared into the air. Descending from above, he lunged at Kurak.
The third strike.
Craaaash!
The ground at the point of impact cratered deeply. Perhaps his hand had gone numb, for Patrick briefly loosened his grip on his weapon before instantly tightening it again. Spinning on his heel, he used the momentum to accelerate his blade.
In rapid succession came the fourth strike.
Unable to withstand the force, Patrick was blown back several meters, crashing into the dirt once more.
Kurak’s eyes were bloodshot, the capillaries bursting. His back muscles had swelled so massively that he could no longer bend his neck.
"Graaaaaaaaah!"
He was running out of time. He had to deactivate the magic tools soon, or his body would give out.
Channeling every ounce of his strength into his axe, Kurak charged toward the crater where Patrick lay. He had to end it with this strike, and he was certain that the moment this blow connected, it would be over.
It didn't matter how sturdy Tanabella was. The moment Patrick tried to block this, his skeletal body would shatter into a thousand pieces.
He sprinted forward, leaping over the shattered, uneven ground.
Rumble!
The boulders that had been launched high into the air began to rain down.
They fell in such massive numbers that the debris completely obscured his vision. In that surreal moment, it felt as if Kurak himself had ground to a halt—
