Chapter 152
Chapter 152
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 152
Chapter Title: 63. Though the Mountain is Tall (2)
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"What the hell are you?"
"Us?"
Yuri gave a quick glance before speaking up.
"I'm Ubi, the straw mat peddler!"
Rolang responded.
"Row, the village schoolmaster!"
Jared raised his voice.
"Javid, the butcher!"
And then all three said in unison.
"We're sworn brothers!"
It might have looked ridiculous at first glance, but Yalta, facing them, could sense that their sudden appearance was no joke.
"Tch..."
For one thing, their voices had overlapped perfectly. That alone suggested these three were masters of coordinated attacks, honed over long years of practice.
Dealing with that Hopper bastard was tough enough, but now these three sworn brothers had shown up out of nowhere. Even for him, it was a precarious spot.
Hose, who had been closely observing Yalta, spoke up.
"Hey, you barbarian. You scared or what?"
"What'd you say?"
"I'm saying the mighty Tenth Strong is cowering from some straw mat seller, schoolteacher, and butcher who popped up in the Joachim backwoods, scheming to run away."
Yalta's face flushed red.
He had virtually no resistance to mockery.
He'd simply killed everyone who ever laughed at him, so it never became known, but he was the type who fell for provocations all too easily.
But for Yalta, that temperament was actually an advantage.
"You think pissing me off makes you easier to handle, huh?"
Mana began boiling up from his body.
"It's the exact opposite."
Yalta's muscles swelled.
He was the kind of man who grew stronger by exploding with rage.
His fighting style had barely any technical structure anyway. He just swung on instinct, so when he got mad, he could fight even more explosively.
Yalta kicked off the ground like a bullet and swung his sword in a massive arc.
It was such an exaggerated motion that any normal knight would avoid it, but Yalta didn't care.
Even if it left openings, he compensated with overwhelming destructive power.
That was his way of fighting.
Hose raised his sword to block, but his body lifted off the ground and slammed into a tree. Several massive trunks toppled over onto him.
"Kahahahaha!"
As Yalta laughed loudly and lunged for a follow-up, the three sworn brothers appeared behind him.
Yalta reacted instantly, swinging his sword.
"Get lost!"
Any ordinary knight would have been shredded by the wind pressure alone.
But these three were merely pretending to be civilians-turned-sworn-brothers—they were anything but ordinary. Quite the opposite.
"Not bad, Yalta."
Yalta's eyes twitched.
His sword was blocked by a massive crescent blade.
Rolang, who had swapped weapons to hide his identity, spoke.
"But that won't be enough to beat us."
While Yalta was stalled, a snake spear curved in like a serpent from the side, aiming for his throat.
"You zoning out?"
Yalta dodged the attack and retreated. But from behind, twin swords awaited him.
The two blades moved with the grace of living beings.
Yalta barely blocked the precise strikes exploiting his openings, retreating step by step.
"To block my twin demon blades... impressive."
The three had not only donned slime masks to hide their identities but also changed their gear entirely.
Yuri wielded twin swords, Rolang a crescent blade, and Jared a snake spear.
As the saying went, all styles converge at mastery—the three sword experts handled the unfamiliar weapons with ease.
Not on par with their main arms, but enough for balanced offense and defense.
But their opponent was Yalta.
"You bastards..."
Yalta's face grew even more savage. You'd think he couldn't get any angrier, but he was the type who could.
Fierce mana blazed up from his body like fire.
"You Joachim scum really know how to piss me off."
"The opposite for me. You make me happy, Yalta."
"What?"
Yuri smirked.
After a few clashes, he understood what Hose had told him.
Yalta was strong.
But he'd barely scraped into the bottom of the Ten Strong, and that was his limit.
As Hose had said, the man lacked depth.
"Seeing you confirms I was right."
Yalta, who killed indiscriminately on whims, would never understand. Or maybe deep down he did, but lacked the grit.
You couldn't just do what you wanted.
Chasing goals was fun and exciting, but you had to endure the unenjoyable parts too.
Even Yuri didn't enjoy swinging his sword every day. Struggling to change the future was sometimes agonizing.
But to achieve their aims, they had to do it.
Yuri tossed one of his twin swords aside.
Behind him, Rolang and Jared discarded the crescent blade and snake spear, drawing their hidden swords and gripping them properly.
Hose, recovered, walked up as well.
Yuri said,
"That's why you need effort."
"What the hell?!"
"Swinging wildly on impulse? That's your ceiling."
Yalta flew into a rage.
This wasn't the first time he'd heard such words.
The Black Knight came to mind.
Another of the Ten Strong, but stronger than him.
He'd lectured similarly. If not for his strength, Yalta would've crushed his skull long ago.
All that crap about not killing indiscriminately, or that brute-force swordplay had limits—he was sick of it.
"You, that guy..."
Yalta laughed, shoulders shaking.
"Fine. Easy to talk big."
No matter what they spouted, he was the one still alive. All his enemies were dead.
This time would be no different.
Yalta raised his sword.
At that moment, several imperial knights who had been watching joined in.
"Lord Yalta! We'll assist!"
"Assist?"
"Yes. You, Lord Yalta..."
The knight's head was severed mid-sentence. Air hissed from his windpipe as blood sprayed.
The sudden attack shocked not just the imperial knights, but Yuri too.
"You're just in the way. Scram."
Yalta growled at the rest.
Having lost a comrade in an instant, they nodded in fear and fled.
With the knights gone, Yalta turned his gaze back to Yuri's group.
He instinctively knew how to seize the advantage.
When facing numbers, eliminate the weakest first.
Target selected, Yalta charged straight in.
"We got a chump."
Yuri muttered. He tried to interfere as Yalta went for Jared, but Yalta doggedly focused on him.
Wounds began accumulating on Jared's body.
"Get it together!"
"Yes, sir!"
Jared dodged with his signature reflexes, but Yalta's physical prowess outclassed his.
Yalta mirrored Jared's movements, pressing the attack.
Blood sprayed from Jared's arm.
"Ngh!"
Yalta's sword hammered down mercilessly. Jared rolled aside, and an explosion rocked where he'd been.
Yalta instantly pivoted, pursuing Jared again.
The other three attacked from flanks, but he tanked all but the worst, continuing his assault.
"Javid, just evade!"
"Yes, sir!"
Jared focused on dodging while the others restricted Yalta's movements with attacks.
But Yalta's obsession defied common sense.
"Got you."
Bleeding from his side, Yalta seized Jared.
He'd exposed even vital spots to catch his prey.
Jared counterattacked with his sword, but couldn't overpower Yalta.
A gut punch sent Jared vomiting blood and crumpling to the ground.
Yalta then hoisted Jared's body as a shield.
The others halted their strikes mid-swing.
"Hopper."
"Yeah."
Yuri exchanged a glance with Hose.
Then they charged forward.
Yalta hurled Jared's limp form. Yuri and Hose leaped over simultaneously, while Rolang caught the rolling Jared.
Yuri and Hose linked up as a duo.
Down to two from four, they had more space to maneuver.
Their masterful strikes were fast and precise enough to fluster even Yalta.
Yuri's swordsmanship was a hard counter, especially. Its depth surpassed Hose's, letting him toy with the power-reliant Yalta at will.
Yalta focused on blocking Hose, leaving him unable to properly handle Yuri.
"Grgh..."
Disbelief crossed Yalta's face.
One down, three left.
The weakest was tending the fallen, and the two pressing him were evenly matched.
He swung wildly, but they slipped away like wind.
Minor wounds multiplied on his body.
It was tolerable now, but if it continued, he might be in real trouble.
Yalta considered one option.
Flee.
But he couldn't stomach it.
"Raaagh!"
Roaring, he swung. The bigger of the two tumbled.
Yalta stabbed down to finish him, but the smaller one blocked.
"Die!"
He swung at the small one now. But its sword coiled like a snake up his blade, slicing his arm.
"Urk!"
By then, the big one had recovered and attacked.
Yalta planted his feet, enduring both.
Ultimately, his chest split open wide.
Blood gushed.
Now he was a battered mess.
His foes bled too, but shallowly. Light scratches compared to his gaping chest wound.
"Y-You bastards..."
Involuntarily, Yalta glanced back.
Retreat.
But his pride wouldn't allow it.
"Damn it!"
Roaring again, he lunged. Wrong choice. Sword ki grazed his face.
His cheek split, blood bursting.
Vision reddened.
Yalta collapsed to a knee. The enemy's sword didn't stop, descending toward his neck. He desperately rolled aside.
Survive.
That was all he could think.
Exposing his back, Yalta fled. Shaking off pursuing taunts and sword ki, he bolted out of the forest.
"Running away?!"
"Yalta!"
With their vanguard retreating, the imperial forces he led panicked and followed suit.
Their loose formation connected, so Yalta's flight rippled through the entire army.
In the end, the whole imperial force withdrew.
"The imperials are pulling back."
"They're retreating!"
"Hit 'em in the backs!"
Aloi Brigade arrows pierced imperial backs.
In this chaos, only Graham's unit maintained composure.
"What happened?"
Graham, advancing steadily, suddenly halted.
Chaos emanated from the entire forest.
A messenger brought unexpected news.
"Lord Yalta suddenly started retreating! It's causing a panic—everyone's fleeing the woods!"
Graham realized something was wrong.
If Yalta acted rashly, it couldn't be undone.
Graham sighed, gazing beyond the forest.
He'd thought it a negligible minor nation, but they'd sharpened their blades in secret.
He hadn't known Joachim knights were this adept at guerrilla warfare.
A country with this much strength holding the rear would remain a thorn in the empire's side.
"No choice."
They couldn't advance alone. Graham ordered a withdrawal.
"Pull back for now."
"Yes, sir."
They'd entered slowly, but retreated without restraint. Graham led his unit swiftly out of the forest.
Yalta stood outside, fuming.
Graham approached.
"Yalta."
"Lord Graham."
"Sudden retreat—what happened?"
"Nothing."
Yalta's bloodshot eyes blazed with fury.
Up close, his body was covered in wounds. A priest healed nearby, but they weren't fully closed.
It was easy to imagine the fierce battle he'd fought.
Yalta blurted,
"Lord Graham."
"Hm?"
"Let's burn that forest."
Breathing heavily, he continued.
"Don't let 'em hide in there. Flush 'em out with fire—they'll crawl out on their own. If not, they burn."
Murderous intent poured from Yalta.
Something had clearly gone down.
He was brimming with killing rage.
"No."
Graham shook his head.
"We won't."
Yalta stood with head bowed, silent.
Graham felt an odd disconnect—this wasn't like Yalta.
And in that instant.
Yalta shot out his hand like lightning, grabbing Graham's collar.
Graham felt his breath choke off.
Yalta's burst-veined, crimson eyes loomed close.
A grinding voice leaked out.
"Listen to me, Lord Graham."