Chapter 77
Chapter 77
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 77
Chapter Title: Every Moment, Every Time (6)
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Duncan didn't charge in recklessly. Instead, he quietly backpedaled.
It wasn't a retreat. Going head-to-head with a brute like that would be foolish. He sheathed his dagger, held his breath, softened his footsteps, and slipped into the gaps between the rubble.
Agon's Furious Horn furrowed his brow.
With the merchant out of the way, his group was left completely exposed to attack. It looked like the easiest thing in the world to just walk forward and cleave off that madman's head.
But he couldn't. There were plenty of perfect spots for ambush along the path—terrain features that screamed hiding places. The merchant's intent to spring out from one of them was plain as day.
"……."
Even knowing it didn't make it easy to counter. When that guy committed to hiding, his presence vanished in a way that was downright eerie. This ruin, littered with perfect cover everywhere, was the ideal battlefield for a cockroach like that merchant.
If his body had been in top shape, it wouldn't have been an issue. But after the previous battle and its backlash, Agon's Furious Horn was on the verge of collapse. Waves of pain crashed over him—muscles melting, bones aching. One more stab from that dagger in this state, and he'd be critically wounded for sure.
But he couldn't just let it slide.
That insolent wretch had dared call him a "fake great warrior." It was an insult that denied his entire existence.
Agon's Furious Horn advanced with murderous eyes, striding forward. His thinking was simple: if he went for the group's throats, the merchant would have no choice but to pop out.
And sure enough, before he got too close, the merchant lunged first.
Roarrrrr!
The dagger's hellfire didn't reach this time. The moment Agon's Furious Horn saw the charging figure, he swiftly swung his axe in response.
Thud—boom!
Duncan dropped low like he was kneeling, dodging the massive axe blade by a hair's breadth. He turned pale and leaped back, then changed his mind in a split second and dove inward instead.
"Uwaaaah!"
Crack—thwack!
"Gahk!"
There were too many openings. The axe haft struck his shin first. Duncan's eyes bulged like they might pop out. Crushing pain shot through him like lightning as his bone splintered. He barely suppressed the urge to scream and collapse, hobbling away instead.
"……Hah."
Agon's Furious Horn let out a hollow chuckle. The merchant was good at scurrying like a rat, but his actual skill was laughably pathetic. Even in his weakened state, the idea that he'd been tense against this guy was ridiculous.
"U, uwaaaah!"
He tried a few more ambushes, but the results were the same. Agon's Furious Horn blocked every attack and counterattacked flawlessly.
Thud, roarrr!
In the end, the merchant took a hit to the hand and dropped his dagger. Agon's Furious Horn jabbed him hard with the end of the haft. The merchant's narrow chest caved in, ribs snapping like twigs.
Splat!
"Guh, guhuh……."
Duncan crumpled from the impact. Agon's Furious Horn went for the finishing blow.
Slash—crunch!
"Aaaagh, aaaah!"
The axe blade tore through his thin clothes, carving a long gash across his chest. It could have been worse—if he'd swung full force, the merchant would've been reduced to minced meat. But even this was plenty fatal. Duncan wasn't some savage warrior who shrugged off gut stabs or shattered limbs as everyday occurrences.
"Gek, gekeh, guhk……."
Every breath sent blood bubbling up from the torn chest muscles. His vision blurred in and out, his heart pounding irregularly. The agony he'd never felt before painted his mind a deeper red than blood itself. Duncan clawed at the ground with crooked fingers, writhing pathetically.
The fight was decided. The opponent was disarmed and critically wounded. Agon's Furious Horn kicked the burning dagger far away and looked down at the merchant.
"Under the harsh laws of the wild plains, all struggles are sacred. I'll give you credit for the courage it took to charge in despite your pitiful, insect-like strength."
"Gehk, uhk, uhehk……."
"But noble Atala teaches that true warriors distinguish between recklessness and bravery. You shouldn't have insulted me with nonsense—you needed to convince me somehow. That a lunatic like me is the real 'great warrior of Atala'? What kind of absurd……."
"[Vanguard of the Indomitable Legions, Atala. Look upon your warrior with mercy, raise your torch and guide him to the battlefield…….]"
⟨ Prayer to Atala ⟩
In that instant, the writhing merchant suddenly flipped and sprang up.
"Die, you bastard!"
He didn't give him a chance to recover, slamming down on the enemy's instep.
Stab, roaaar!
Hellfire erupted upward.
The giant's eyes widened in shock. He couldn't comprehend it. He'd kicked the dagger away over there—where had this extra one come from?
Duncan forced a grin through the pain. Even as he'd been getting pummeled, he hadn't forgotten Kadim's advice.
'It's good to have a weapon your enemy doesn't know about. When they swing their sword honestly, you hurl the stone you've hidden at their face.'
So before slipping into the rubble, he'd stealthily swiped an extra dagger from Kadim's belt. To stab it into the overconfident fool the moment he thought he'd won.
Roaaar!
The ambush exceeded expectations. Hellfire wouldn't die out from just stomping—it devoured flesh and armor, swiftly engulfing the entire leg.
There was only one way to extinguish it. Agon's Furious Horn squeezed his eyes shut and recited the prayer.
Atala's divine miracle swept in like a dust storm, snuffing the flames once more. But the burden was already immense, and absorbing power again pushed him over the edge.
Now the backlash exploded uncontrollably.
Thud. His steel-like forearm dropped limply. The other arm dangled in tatters, and his sturdy legs wobbled like reeds. Duncan momentarily forgot his pain, staring blankly at the melting warrior.
Clang—
Agon's Furious Horn dropped his axe and pulled out an iron flask. It sloshed with one last gulp inside. He hurriedly drank it and tried to pour it on the stump.
That's when he noticed the merchant, now a bloody wreck.
His eyes were unfocused like a dead fish, face purpled. He'd be dead in less than half an hour, tops.
"……."
Agon's Furious Horn narrowed his brow, deep in thought.
This was the guy who'd hurled outrageous insults and reduced him to this state. Still, letting him die felt like a waste. For such a scrawny body to take this much damage and still bare its fangs without yielding…… How long had it been since he'd faced an enemy with such spirit?
The laws of the wild plains declared the victor right and the loser wrong. But factoring in their power gap, this duel was essentially his defeat.
He made his choice. Agon's Furious Horn approached the merchant with a resolute expression.
"……I take it back. I was wrong. You're no lowly insect—you're a warrior with the unyielding will of rock."
Then he poured the flask's contents over the chest wound.
Thick golden liquid spilled out, bubbling through the blood froth as the gash began to knit slightly.
"Kuhk, heuk! Haa……."
"This duel is your victory. Consider this last drop a loser's tribute of submission……."
"Kuhk, kuhaaa……."
"Of course, with all the blood you've lost, survival won't be easy. But just as you've survived facing me…… Squeeze out every last bit of strength to live…… And…… Tell your companions. If they want to hide who the true master of this axe is, they must come to Agon……."
"Kuaaa……."
"I'll be waiting there…… You mad harbinger of ruin and your merchant servant……."
With that, Agon's Furious Horn turned away. He limped off unsteadily, tucking his severed arm under his side, dragging the ferocious battle axe behind him, vanishing beyond the distant walls against the twilight.
A stunned silence fell.
Duncan blinked slowly. The once-clear sky had ripened into a bloody crimson, like overripe fruit ready to drop.
There was no room for the joy of victory. Chills gripped his nerves tight, but the pain had faded to almost nothing. His consciousness flickered like a melting candle. Slipping away like this didn't seem so bad.
But Duncan snapped to.
Such a passive death was too pathetic. He decided to accomplish one more thing before dying—for the day he'd face that monstrous warrior again with Kadim.
"Guhk, ugh, guhk……."
He dragged his ragdoll body desperately toward the rubble pile.
Noon, with brilliant sunlight piercing the collapsed rubble.
Kadim slowly lifted his eyelids.
Even awake, it didn't feel real. An ominous aftertaste lingered, sending shivers down his spine. He pressed his forehead and temples.
'What the hell…… did I just see? That blood-red thing underground…….'
Memories slipped away like water through fingers. He tried recalling a few more times, then gave up. Fixing real-world problems seemed far more urgent than dissecting a bad dream.
Sunken into a pit, he was trapped amid layers of rubble in this wasteland. Guessing who made it wasn't hard.
"……."
Trying to stand brought agony like his muscles tearing fiber by fiber. The price of full doping, summoning his first playthrough strength, and unleashing power beyond his limits. He clenched his eyes against the pain, enduring until he could barely support himself.
Kadim searched the rubble gaps for his gear. He quickly found Lené via its "return" effect and the blood ghost relic plaque nearby. But one hellfire dagger and the wooden thorn were missing, so he ventured farther to look.
Weapons aside, he spotted something he couldn't ignore first.
A trail of blood stretching from his feet into the distance.
Kadim furrowed his brows.
'Not mine. Not the demon's either. Still fresh with moisture, but no signs of survivors in the city…….'
He needed to check whose it was. Sword and axe in hand, he followed without hesitation.
The trail led through rubble crevices. The path was clogged with debris and stones, making progress tough. Grimacing, Kadim navigated the narrow stone maze until it widened, revealing the blood's owner.
A familiar face.
Duncan, sprawled blood-soaked, clutching leather flasks in both hands.
Lid poorly sealed, their contents leaked out. A pungent, fishy stench assaulted his nose—utterly familiar to Kadim.
Demon blood.
"……."
His brow twisted, face twitching spasmodically.
It made no sense. Why was Duncan, who should be at the defensive line, here like this? Where were his luggage and dagger……?
Up close, he was unconscious. Breathing and pulse faint, body temperature cold, heartbeat weak—he wouldn't last long.
"……."
Kadim pondered.
He wasn't a priest with healing grace, a shaman brewing miracle elixirs, or a mage with clever spells. But he had one way to revive even a dying man good as new. The catch: it was brutally crude and gruesome…….
He didn't want to, but no choice.
He couldn't let Duncan die. The man had proven his worth. Kadim's journey still needed this guide and porter. And to learn what happened, he had to keep him alive…….
He gripped Duncan's hands around the blood ghost's hilt, then pressed the blade to his own forearm. Focusing, he activated the "Hydra Tattoo."
Crimson light bloomed from the pattern.
Kadim slashed his arm repeatedly.
Slice—crunch! Slice—crunch! Slice—crunch!
Flesh parting with a chill, blood pouring endlessly, skin splitting and regenerating infinitely.
His rugged face contorted in bloody shadows. Agony chewed his brain raw. Yet he didn't groan once, continuing the cuts. The red blade drank its master's endless blood, offering it to the one gripping the hilt.
Red smoke gradually rose from Duncan's body.
As the sun dipped slightly, Duncan finally opened his eyes.
Awake, he trembled with pride at the corners of his mouth.
"M-Master…… I, I…… I beat Agon's Furious Horn…… Thanks to the wisdom you shared before…… Heh heh heh……."
"……."
Chilly silence descended.
Kadim rubbed his forearm and sighed lowly. Should've let him die peacefully if his head was that messed up. Looking away, he muttered like a lament.
"……Rest a bit more until you're in your right mind."