Chapter 145
Chapter 145
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 145
Chapter Title: Enemies Meet on the Log Bridge (3)
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The northern warriors knew Rak well—especially the thirteen elites under the Grand Duke's command. They'd been with him since he was a boy.
How to grip a weapon.
How to move your body.
How to hunt wild beasts.
The warriors had taught him everything. They were his mentors and brothers in all but blood. That's why they trusted his instincts, too.
'Instincts close to prophecy.'
A crisis-detection ability honed to its limit.
If Rak voiced his gut feeling, it was usually spot on. It had never failed him yet. So the warriors trusted him this time as well.
Thud.
They sent one warrior toward the village. The remaining seven followed Rak's pointed direction. With every step toward their destination, their footfalls grew heavier.
"......"
The warriors fell silent.
Their faces twisted bit by bit.
'This is.'
A familiar stench. The acrid odor piercing their nostrils was something they could never shake off. A smell that shouldn't be here was wafting from an impossible place.
Crunch.
The warriors slowly halted.
They raised their heads. Rak's expression, standing beside them, hardened like stone.
"We're too late."
One warrior muttered.
Too late for what? No one asked for details. They didn't need to. The warriors simply stared ahead.
Red bloodstains.
The trail stretched long.
Across the vast snowy plain, crimson spots dotted the white expanse. Some large, some small. The scattered flecks formed lines. The red trails led beyond the snowfield. And there were dozens—no, hundreds.
That many people had been dragged off, bleeding, into the distance. For what purpose? No one knew. But...
"Are you warriors of the North?"
They would have the answer.
The warriors' gazes turned to the knight who had spoken. His white armor gleamed in the sunlight.
'Holy Knight.'
A holy knight in his thirties stood at the spot where the blood trail thickened. Behind him lay a narrow path.
A road stained red.
A path reeking of blood.
"I am Yerutatra, holder of the 12th Holy Seat, one of the Holy Emperor's Hundred Elites."
The holy knight blocking the path declared.
"This is holy ground. Outsiders are forbidden entry."
"...Holy ground?"
Oyakal let out a hollow laugh.
"Since when was northern soil your holy ground?"
"The gods have decreed it."
"Ridiculous. Land ruled by the Grace family for centuries becomes the Holy Church's overnight just because some god 'decreed' it..."
Oyakal grimaced.
"You actually believe that makes sense?"
"The will of the gods is ever thus. Mere mortals like us must neither seek to comprehend it nor doubt it."
"Convenient, isn't it? Slap 'god's will' on anything, and it all sorts itself out."
The warriors stepped forward.
"Holy knight, that nonsense might fly elsewhere, but..."
Oyakal drew his weapon from his belt.
"This is the North. Everything here belongs to our lord, the Grand Duke."
The warriors moved in front of Rak.
Oyakal glanced back at him.
"Young master."
"...I'm listening."
"Is there something beyond them?"
"Yes."
"You'll need to see it with your own eyes."
"I will."
Oyakal nodded.
"Understood."
He turned back.
Standing at the warriors' forefront, he bellowed. His voice boomed through the air like a war cry.
"This is the North!"
Thud. The warriors stomped.
"Only the Grand Duke, lord of the North, sets its laws! Even gods mean nothing here!"
The holy knights scowled.
Before god-fearing men, Oyakal dismissed the divine as illusion. He wasn't alone. To northern folk, gods held no value.
"The North was carved out by human hands. From barren wastes, it was the Grace lineage that tamed it first. Those who live here never forget that grace."
Thud. The warriors stomped again.
They drew their weapons. Massive axes, keen swords, hefty greatswords gleamed under the sun.
"The next lord of House Grace has spoken."
Their weapons aimed at the holy knights.
The Grand Duke's thirteen elites were weapons wielded by their master's will.
"Clear that path. He will pass beyond."
What then must they do?
The warriors harbored no doubts.
They simply executed their lord's command.
"Break through. That is our role."
They roared.
The seven warriors slid down the snowy slope like beasts. Fangs bared, they charged the holy knights blocking the way.
"Young master."
Just before the clash, Oyakal turned to Rak.
"Go."
Rak kicked off the ground.
2.
Fights with superhumans were always a hassle.
Atop the quaking snowy peak, Raniel furrowed her brow. An avalanche roared down. The massive wave of snow blotted out the sun, casting shadows over the area.
Kraka-raka-rak!
It pulverized everything in its path. To the avalanche, it was a mere advance; to human eyes, utter devastation.
'What a pain in the ass.'
Raniel clicked her tongue.
Even facing the oncoming wall of snow, she didn't panic. Her eyes darted quickly. Sword Demon's question surfaced in her mind.
'...Ever fought in an avalanche?'
Fought amid a pouring avalanche?
Of course not. She'd battled on snowy mountains before, but never against an avalanche this massive. Besides, strategies exploiting terrain like this required careful thought.
'It's poison to allies as much as enemies.'
That's why Raniel avoided terrain-altering tactics unless her foe was some monstrous outlier.
'...No experience, but.'
She had something similar—once.
Raniel recalled a battlefield memory. The fight with Ganikalt.
'When I collapsed the whole canyon.'
The situations weren't identical.
But in some ways, they were alike.
What had she done then?
'Probably.'
Something like this.
Raniel spread her arms wide.
Rumble-rumble-roooar!
The ground shook. Balance was tricky. But Raniel was a mage. If her opponent was a sword superhuman who could swing amid any chaos or environment...
Clap.
Raniel was a Battle Mage.
The most efficient caster, able to unleash Stocked spells from anywhere.
"Hey."
Clapping her hands, Raniel grinned.
"You sure about this?"
Her Stocked spells glowed.
Brighter than ever.
"......!"
The flash was instantaneous. Yet those in the superhuman realm could read it. Draka's pupils contracted. In his slowed perception of time, he saw.
'Damn it all.'
A flash, a circuit.
Dozens of circuits flickered and vanished in an instant. Draka had no clue what spell was coming. But one thing was certain.
'Won't make it out unscathed.'
His superhuman instincts screamed.
Draka obeyed. He kicked off and leaped. The ground erupted immediately. Dozens of ice spikes burst from below, reshaping the terrain.
Slash!
Slicing the tips of the ice spikes, Draka landed. But it didn't end. He let out a dry laugh, eyes forward.
"...Ha."
The ashen mage, Raniel.
Before developing the Battle Mage class, hers was Wizard—focused on elemental magic. So, what element had she wielded?
Fwoosh.
The answer loomed before him.
House-sized fireballs rained down. Not one or two. Filling his vision with flame, Draka clicked his tongue.
He sensed it.
This was just the beginning.
3.
Even amid the surging avalanche, the two superhumans' clash raged on. No quarter given. They slid down the snowy slope at breakneck speed, colliding fiercely.
Splash!
A sword slash cleaved the snow mound.
The accelerated snow hit like boulders. Shattered chunks splattered across the ground.
Fwoosh!
Fireballs pierced the blizzard.
The inferno's heat melted snow across the field. A barrage of varied spells chased Draka in its wake.
Kraka-raka-raka-rak!
And still, the snow pressed on.
That annoyed Raniel.
'Such a hassle.'
If it were just the avalanche, she'd blast it away with spells or pillar it up in layers. Simple. But it wasn't alone.
Slash!
Raniel jerked her head back.
The sword stroke grazed overhead. Yeah, she couldn't go all-out with spells. Constant interference. Raniel scowled.
'Persistent.'
Draka's swordplay. Even fleeing the avalanche and intercepting spells... he never dropped his offense. He fired sword beams at every opening.
'From blind spots.'
Mixed in the blizzard.
Sometimes hiding in spell flashes, he relentlessly targeted her blind sides. Aiming for her rear. He was a master at cutting humans, after all.
Sword superhumans were all like that.
Impossible to match their technique.
'Uncle Kontel was too.'
That famed sword superhuman especially.
'Kyle's physical prowess outclasses him, but...'
Kyle never once beat Kontel in a pure sword duel. Sword superhumans bridged power gaps with skill. The Sword Demon was no different.
Shrieeeek!
Ripping the incoming sword beam barehanded, Raniel accelerated. Ash trailed from her back.
'Hassle, but...'
Raniel swatted Draka's swung sword. Blade met fist, but the weapon bounced away.
'Not losing.'
In truth, no. Save for cuts on her palms from grabbing blades, Raniel was unscathed.
What of the Sword Demon?
"Huff...!"
Ragged breaths reached her ears.
Deflecting his sword, Raniel eyed Draka.
Wounds everywhere. One arm dangled limp; gashes from spells bled freely. The longer the fight, the more he accumulated.
'But not enough.'
Lacking that decisive blow.
Raniel bit her lip.
She glanced back. The avalanche swelled. And below... a village, if memory served.
'Targeted from the start.'
Chase him to the end, let the village get buried... or block the snow, exposing a gap.
'What a Draka move.'
Raniel clicked her tongue.
"Tch."
Time to decide.
Shrieeek. Raniel dragged her feet, braking sharply. Back turned to Draka.
Kraka-raka-raka-rak!
Facing the surge, Raniel clapped her palms. Ash swirled around her. Plenty accumulated during the chase.
'Enough gathered.'
Raniel went all-in.
'Avalanche be damned—blow it all away at once.'
Tik, tick-tick-tick!
Sparks danced in the ash. Flames roared, ready to erupt. A human blaze rivaling the snow wave's might.
Ignite.
Ashes to Ashes.
The inferno blazed fiercely.
Tik—the final spark flew. As the flash prepared to scour the area...
Something kicked off the ground.
Thud.
Someone leaped beside Raniel amid the growing hellfire. No need to look—Draka. Like a demon plunging into hell willingly, he swung his sword.
Draka's retinas sizzled.
Yet his bloodshot eyes held steady. He saw his target. A blade fueled by obsession targeted Raniel.
Raniel had anticipated it.
She'd baited him in. Knowing the trap, Draka bit anyway. Each moved as the other predicted. One thing left.
Spell explosion first?
Or blade?
A fight in an instant. Victory decided in a heartbeat.
And that moment arrived.
Clang!
Amid the surging blast, a streak of light shot in. It jolted Draka's blade tip. A tiny waver... but in split-second combat, a massive variable.
Draka's sword missed Raniel.
The explosion would raze everything.
Victory was decided.
KABOOOOOM!
The roar slammed into the snowy mountain.