Chapter 207
Chapter 207
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 207
Chapter Title: A Battle to Savor
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Since returning to the past, I'd fought in countless battles.
Traitors who betrayed my family, rebels from allied nations, Black Lions of the Tangryu, and even knights from the Holy Empire.
Not a single one had been free of danger.
Without my experience from my previous life, I could have ended up lying cold on the ground at any moment.
Yet among all those fights, there was one that alone instilled in me the singular emotion of 'joy'.
It was my battle with 'Hatan'.
And the thrill I'd felt back then was just as real now.
Even in this very moment, as an axe blade hurtled toward me, poised to split my skull, filling my vision completely.
Buuaaaak!
The axe cleaved through the air with terrifying force. Forged with Argus's personal care, its edge was chillingly sharp.
Infused with the High Orcs' authority of vibration, a single touch might cleave my body clean in two.
That would have been true for the me of the past, at least.
Twaaaang!
I sidestepped the brutish axe and swung back at the blade, massive as Hatan himself.
A battle axe is among the heaviest of mid-sized weapons.
Each strike packs destructive power surpassing any other armament, but its fatal flaws are the lack of speed in attacks and the difficulty in recovering from a thrown swing.
That's why battle axes weren't favored among knights in general.
One-handed hammers, lighter yet capable of shattering weapons, were preferred instead.
But the axe I'd struck flew back with scornful speed, mocking such conventional wisdom.
It reversed direction mid-bounce, accelerating further to target my leg.
Shweeeeeeak!
My leaping leg passed overhead as Hatan's swift axe mowed down the grass below.
Then his opposite fist smashed straight toward my airborne body.
A strike calculated for midair, where evasion was impossible.
Hatan's massive fist brimmed with warrior force. A direct hit would surely shatter my torso's bones.
Shrrrrruk!
I spun my body in sync with his fist, grabbing his wrist and forearm with hands and feet.
Krunch!
A joint lock that would shred a human arm like rags, yet Hatan's vein-bulging arm didn't budge an inch.
His transcendent muscles held his bones firmly in place, beyond mortal limits.
Buwoong!
Using the momentum of his flung arm, I landed far back on the ground.
Even before touchdown, Hatan closed in, his axe striking from three angles at my neck, shoulder, and torso simultaneously.
"Hmph!"
I could dodge, but I didn't want to.
Bwoooo!
Golden aura enveloped my body, disrupting the path of Hatan's vibrating axe blades.
The vibrations surging from three sides reversed direction smoothly under my guidance.
"!"
The condensed energy pouring from Hatan's axes turned back toward him instead.
"Chwiik!"
Caught off-guard by his own attack rebounding, Hatan's axes scrambled to intercept.
Thud! Boom! Boooom!
Colliding blasts of condensed energy pockmarked the highland with craters in real time.
It was just like four years ago.
The fight with Hatan remained primal, savage, and ferocious.
The only change was our respective levels of mastery.
"Chwiiiik!"
Having neutralized the energy, Hatan snorted and charged again.
BOOM!
I deflected his axe with a lunar step and drove a true strike toward his exposed abdomen.
Splaaat!
My Iron Mountain Fist, which should have burst his gut on impact, was blocked by Hatan's hand.
Undeterred, I spun at high speed, launching toward his jaw.
Pankration, Dragon Rider Strike.
Smaaaack!
"Chwik!"
Hatan staggered from the jaw hit, but I couldn't follow up.
Throb!
'Ribs cracked, huh.'
In that instant of leaping, exploiting our size difference, the hand blocking my shoulder had struck my torso with vibration.
"Chwiik! Excellent!"
Blood streaming from his battered jaw, Hatan's grin never faded—what was so amusing?
"You mad bastard. What's so funny after taking that to the chin?"
My retort only made Hatan laugh louder.
"Chwiiiik! You're the same, ribs cracked and all!"
Unconsciously, I touched my mouth at his shout.
My lips curled upward under my fingers.
No mirror needed; Hatan's expression mirrored my own.
A deeper red tinged Hatan's orange skin.
Not from wounds, but sunset glow as day waned.
'Time flew by already?'
Battle blurred away all sense of time.
Feeling it now, pain throbbed everywhere.
Hatan's axe and fists weren't to be taken lightly, even when dodged or deflected.
And the same went for my Pankration.
Hatan, realizing time's passage too, slowly lowered his axe.
Weeeeeeng!
Soon, a swarm-like hum emanated from the axe, echoing across the highland.
Orcs can't wield aura, the power of enlightenment. Instead, their transcendent strength artificially generates cutting force to cleave anything.
Vibration, exclusive to High Orcs.
Hatan was revving his vibrational power to its limit.
"Chwiik! Didn't notice time slipping away."
"Same here."
Kwoooo!
Golden aura poured from my body, thickening, darkening to near-black.
"Chwiik! Joyful times must end eventually."
"You know that saying too?"
This guy sometimes seemed less orc, more man.
"Chwiik! Regrettable, but it's time to end it."
"Agreed."
Crack!
Without signaling, we dropped into stance, power coiling in our legs.
Hatan with ultimate strength and vibration; I with aura and steel.
As we gathered all our might for collision, the sun shyly dipped beyond the ridge.
Darkness blanketed the highland in its stead.
The next instant, Hatan and I clashed at full power.
Kwaaaaaang!
-Kyaaaaak!
A basilisk, like a lizard magnified a hundred—no, a thousandfold—approached, petrifying gaze flashing.
Its deathly ability to turn prey to stone upon eye contact was formidable even in Death Valley.
Unfortunately, its opponent was a poor match.
Shwaaaak!
Two expressionless puppets roamed the battlefield with lifelike motion, utterly unaffected by the basilisk's evil eye.
Only natural. Petrification targeted living beings.
No matter how fearsome, it held no sway over lifeless dolls.
Papapapabat!
Mimi, wielding 'thread', slipped under the basilisk's legs and emerged opposite.
-Krruk?!
Kuuuung!
Sudden pressure on its foreleg toppled the basilisk.
Shlack! Shralack!
Mimi and Nene seized the opening, crossing threads from both sides to garrote its neck.
-Kii... eek...!
Crushed carotid pressure bulged the basilisk's eyes bloodshot; its head couldn't withstand the stranglehold.
Slice!
The severed head tumbled before us with dull thuds.
"Your puppetry grows more monstrous by the day."
Basilisks were top-tier threats.
To toy with one using only threads, no poison or hidden weapons.
'This guy's improved tremendously.'
No joke—with this skill, he could rival 10th-rank holy knight captains, if not the Four Marquises.
And at just over twenty.
"Hearing that from the monster who soloed an Orc Lord? Doesn't thrill me much, pal."
Saladin snorted curtly, retrieving Mimi and Nene.
"No offense, but you didn't even go all out."
"What're you on about?"
"Don't play dumb. You didn't tap the wyvern's inner core energy at all."
How'd he know? This guy's deceptively sharp despite seeming obtuse.
"While we're at it, why not use it? Would've made short work of Hatan."
True. Full power from the start, including the core, would've minimized risk.
But I hadn't wanted to.
"Won with my own strength, didn't I? That's what counts."
"You skipped formations too. Weirdo."
Saladin grumbled about taking the hard road, but I just smiled.
"Young Master Saladin, the baron wished to honor his worthy rival."
Beskin chimed in from the side.
"Huh? Honor?"
"The wyvern core isn't his own power. He didn't want to taint the duel with borrowed might."
"What about formations? Those are Jerome's own power, not external."
Beskin countered Saladin's persistent confusion.
"Formations would favor the baron greatly. But they mustn't be used."
Spot on. Beskin viewed it through a true warrior's lens.
"Makgora, the orcs' sacred duel. Orcs flocked to Yarnbidr to witness it. If Baron and Hatan vanished mid-fight, would they accept it?"
Slice!
Beskin calmly felled another leaping lesser dragon from the trees.
"They yielded because they saw a honorable warrior's clash."
"Hmm."
Non-warrior Saladin didn't fully grasp, but he got a bit.
Recalling Jerome and Hatan's bout three days ago still made his palms sweat.
"Hey, more coming."
"...Tch!"
So he endured Jerome's arrogant finger-pointing for now.
Pfft.
Grumbling, Saladin steadily dispatched the lesser dragons.
Worried my injuries might worsen, no doubt.
'Still can't be honest.'
Truth be told, I'd teased Saladin playfully, but hadn't strength to lift a finger.
The final Golden Vajra Yaksha.
It had felled even Marquis Crank of the Four Marquises, yet Hatan's axe pierced it.
Despite higher perfection than against Crank.
Hatan's axe was that sharp, destructive.
Of course, my fist exploited the gap, landing a paper's breadth ahead.
A hair's breadth from my skull splitting.
But a fight worth it.
Bleeding heavily, leaning on his axe, Hatan declared to the watching orcs of Yarnbidr.
-Henceforth, until Jerome's request is fulfilled and Makgora renewed, we shall not target southern humans!
Conditional, but sufficient.
No rematch until the Holy Empire war ended.
With Hatan's pact sealed, we headed northwest into the mountains.
Once wyvern domain—and Hatan's sworn enemies'—now lordless wilds post-wyvern decline.
Per Rugal's terms, it served as vast training ground for young lycanthropes to hone ferocity and spirit.
"Endless swarms. Feels even thicker than before."
Wyverns gone, top predators of Death Valley who culled lesser dragons—population exploded unchecked?
Endless lesser dragons assaulted our path to Lycaon, where young lycanthropes held per Rugal.
With Saladin's puppets Mimi and Nene, plus Beskin, handling them wasn't hard—but tiring.
"Damn, that Baukalark punk. What the hell's he been... Huh?"
Mid-grumble toward Lycaon, another lesser dragon appeared.
As Saladin sighed to dispatch it, a black silhouette emerged behind.
Shaaaak! Splaaat!
The silhouette swung; the lesser dragon split into three chunks.
"Grrrrrr..."
From the carnage stepped a familiar lycanthrope, growling beast-like.
"...Baukalark?"
But off. Silver fur, lycanthrope hallmark, was blackened in patches; eyes bloodshot, reason fled.
Why?
This scene felt eerily familiar.
"You too?!"
"Kraaaaa!"
Baukalark roared and lunged at us.