Sunlight of Revival
Sunlight of revival flickered at the tip of the sword. The barbarian legion had already closed in right up to him.
"Valhalla awaits—!"
"Fear not death! Odin watches over us—!"
"Glory of the battlefield—! Guide my arm!"
Orkan's roars echoed from every direction as Kim Jinwoo steadied his breathing. What should he do first? Head toward the central forest area? 'Fuck. Think, damn it.' Or into the dense thicket of trees...? No, wait—lure them into the cave? It was shallow, but the narrow entrance might give him an edge against a horde of barbarians. Like fighting in a tight alley, where you could handle multiples without getting surrounded.
'Fucking hell. What's the best move?'
He hesitated to commit, and that's when one Orkan spotted him.
"Demon—! I'll sever that head right now—!"
Jinwoo charged straight at him. The Orkan drew a massive battle axe in response.
Whoosh.
Gripping his rapier tight, Jinwoo kicked off the ground and activated Swiftness. In the span of a single heartbeat, his vision stretched out long. The air tore with a rip— Muscles burned like fire— Accelerated to the limit, they exploded against the earth.
Crunch.
He dodged the battle axe's arc and slipped right behind the brute.
'Alignment, center...'
—Penetration.
His rapier pierced clean through the back of the Orkan's skull. Shunk. Feeling the mushy texture of brain matter quiver against his sword hand, he finished the kill thoroughly. He stirred the insides of the skull with the rapier, then stabbed twice more.
Shunk. Shunk.
Roars erupted behind him right after.
"Odin—!"
"Odin—!"
"Odin—!"
Shouts from warriors in the same direction, ringing out in unison.
"...Fuck."
What the hell, the three barbarian brothers? Fucking shit. Amid his dazed disbelief, they burst out.
"Shatter bones and rend flesh—!"
"Glory of the battlefield, guide my arm—!"
"Demon—! I'll offer your neck to Odin right now—!"
A hand axe flew at him. He twisted aside from its path and moved immediately. Two Orkans gripped battle axes; he targeted the one defenseless after throwing first.
'Swiftness—.'
His heart pounded once more. Vision elongating, his feet moved swift.
'Alignment, center...'
Stance set, he thrust the rapier forward.
Shunk.
Straight through the forehead from the front.
"Guhk..."
Thorough finisher again. Twisted the rapier to churn the skull, stabbed twice more.
Shunk. Shunk.
As he finished and pulled back his arm to retrieve the sword, a chill crawled up his spine. Instinctively, he leaned his upper body back.
Shunk.
The incoming hand axe buried into his shoulder.
"Quick for a demon—."
He yanked out the embedded axe roughly and triggered Swiftness on instinct. Vision stretched again. Kicked off and charged the thrower.
'Alignment, center...'
Penetration.
—Whoosh.
Rapier speared through the eye, into the brain.
Shunk.
As he tried to stir the skull, the last one's massive battle axe came crashing down.
"Kuhaha—! Well do—."
He withdrew the rapier and fired Swiftness once more. Huff. Harsh breaths heaved up. Spamming Swiftness nonstop—he felt like he was dying. Heart about to burst. But he couldn't stop. This was the optimal play.
—Whoosh.
The huge battle axe's swing ripped past his side. He twisted away and thrust immediately.
Shunk.
The wriggling sensation of life at his fingertips. Feeling the pulse, he finished it off.
Shunk. Shunk.
Every muscle screamed. Catching his explosive breath, a voice came from the Orkan he hadn't quite finished.
"...My blood belongs to the ancestors."
Fuck.
"My flesh bears witness to the battlefield.... The weapon I wield..."
"You bastard!"
No time to rest. He set his stance and thrust the rapier.
'Alignment, center..., penetration!'
Rapier punched through the skull and out the back.
Shunk.
He twisted his wrist to withdraw. Blood droplets pattered from the tip.
...Huff, huff.
His heart hammered against his ribcage from inside. Lungs felt like crumbling ash paper.
...Fuck.
Muscles screamed thread by thread like snapping. Even breathing hurt. The toll of chaining Swiftness without pause.
"Haa..."
Every use felt like inhaling to your absolute limit. Then layering another breath on top. Like pumping air into an already maxed balloon. And he'd pushed it to the bursting point repeatedly...
Cough, cough.
Coughing up a metallic tang, more bullshit shouts rang out.
"Demon—! Today I'll hang that heart in Valhalla!"
"Kuhahaha—! Odin's sacrifice has arrived—!"
"Odin, dye this night in blood!"
"The ancestors rejoice—! Prey has come!"
"Demon, that neck is mine—!"
He regulated his breath and gripped the rapier again. He looked up suddenly.
"......"
The sky was still goddamn bright.
Night does not come.
"Death cannot stop me—! I'll offer your blood to Odin—!"
Night does not come.
"I will not fall—! To Valhalla—!"
Night does not come.
"That neck is mine—! Demon—!"
Night does not come.
"Valhalla calls us—!"
Night does not come.
"Drink blood—!"
Night does not come.
"Ancestors...!"
Night does not come.
"Blood...."
Night does not come.
Shunk.
"Heok. Heok."
Shunk. Shunk.
Even wringing a dry rag yields water. That's how it felt, experimenting directly on his own body.
Shunk. Shunk.
He slew the final Orkan.
"Heok, heok, heok, heok...."
Not breath, but hot blood seemed to churn in his throat. Using the rapier as a crutch, he barely held his collapsing body upright.
...Heok, heok, heok.
His legs had no strength. Blood refluxed up his throat.
Hack—.
He vomited blood. Sticky warmth flooded his mouth. It kept pouring out. From eyes, ears, nose, mouth—every orifice bled.
His heart thundered right beside his eardrums. Ears rang deaf. Swiftness... how many times? He tried to think, but thoughts wouldn't connect. Tried counting on fingers, but no sensation in his hands. Lungs felt burst. Burst, repaired, burst, repaired—endlessly.
Poison coursed through every vein. His whole body crumbled.
"...Energy."
He fumbled desperately at his waist for the subspace pouch. It was gone.
Cough, cough, hack—.
Vomiting blood, he clung to consciousness. No way... during battle, lost it?
His body crumbled from inside. Heart raced madly then plummeted like a stone sinking into deep sea, stuttering to halts. Fingertips iced over; vision grayed to ash.
──.
No mad barbarian cheers in his ears, no wind. Just the drip of his blood from his ears. The hot liquid leaking from ruptured vessels.
──.
Lungs rejected air now. Inhales blocked like an iron rod jammed in his throat. Barely a pinhole of breath. Pupils rolled back slow; head lolled limp downward.
...I'm dying, this is, definitely, dying.
Where? Subspace pouch? Where...?
Gasping desperately, he rolled his eyes. There—at his feet.
...Subspace pouch. Right, tied tight, couldn't have fallen in battle.
He reached. Muscles, joints—all leaden. Chest contracted; breath hitched short. Teeth gritted, he seized the pouch. Trembling hands opened it, grabbed anything. Always opened it to eat, so bread came first.
No chewing. Swallowed whole.
Crunch.
Rough crumbs scraped his throat. Blood-tears welled unbidden. Forced down, chest burned; stomach twitched faintly.
"......"
Another, swallowed. Gulp. Another. Another one. One more.
"......"
Breath still ragged, but warmth spread from his gut. Fingertip tremors eased slightly. The darkness in his vision receded bit by bit.
"...Haa."
Lungs slowly accepted air. Heart found rhythm again. The ember inside reignited.
Drip.
A sound from within his body.
Crack.
Nerves scraping, tearing.
"...Hoo."
Suddenly, breath lightened. Resistance gone as air passed throat to lungs. Sweet, even. Eyes closed. He collapsed into unconsciousness.