Chapter 339: Graxar (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 339: Graxar (3)
It was a grotesque sight.
Graxar's body, enveloped in a violet energy, writhed and began to swell, turning an increasingly sickly shade of purple. His bloodshot eyes bulged as if they might pop out of his skull at any moment, and thick veins throbbed prominently across his face. He choked back a groan of immense pain. As the expanding energy reached the stump of his severed right arm, it twisted and tangled like a living creature, rapidly regenerating a brand-new limb.
The entire process radiated an ominous, lethal danger.
Roman Dmitry quietly watched the birth of this monster.
'It is a familiar power.'
The violet energy.
He had experienced it before.
During his battle with Shepir, he had been dragged into a similar violet space. The memory of that day was still vivid.
It was a kind of power not permitted in the human world, which had led Roman to hypothesize that a non-human entity was pulling the strings behind the Kronos Empire. In other words, the being that had granted Graxar this power was directly connected to Kronos. Not content with extending their dark reach across the Salamander Continent, they were also plotting something in Arcadia, hidden away from the eyes of the world.
Roman did not attack.
He simply stood by and watched.
He wanted to see just how strong Graxar would become after fully accepting the devil's power.
'Alexander went into seclusion after the war with Dmitry. On the surface, they advocate for peace and strictly adhere to the ceasefire negotiations, but everyone knows that is a lie.'
Even during the war prisoner incident, the Kronos Empire had remained silent.
They, who would normally threaten war in a fit of rage over the most trivial matters, wanted everything to pass by quietly.
Behind that silence lay a clear conspiracy.
It was no coincidence that Alexander had entered his seclusion, that Isabelle—who had been interfering with the Kronos Empire's plans—had gone missing, and that Graxar had heard the devil's whisper. Something was afoot. If this was a truth that even Dmitry's intelligence network could not uncover, Roman intended to extract at least a piece of it through Graxar.
What if?
What if Graxar had succumbed to the devil's temptation earlier?
Before the Luna Kingdom could even ask him for help, Graxar would have obliterated Luna's Fortress and completely conquered Arcadia. In that scenario, the situation could not have been resolved on such a small scale. If the Kronos Empire's true intention was to build a hidden force beyond the Endless Mountains to ambush Dmitry, then when war inevitably broke out again, unexpected entities would have crossed the Endless Mountains and put Dmitry in grave danger.
Kronos was still going strong.
They were merely biding their time.
At any moment, they sought to amass enough strength to once again bare their fangs and reveal their ambition for continental conquest.
Finally.
"Aaaaargh!"
Graxar let out a monstrous roar.
The moment his violet-dyed eyes locked onto Roman Dmitry, his massive figure suddenly vanished from sight.
Flash!
Rumble!
* * *
Graxar had not vanished.
To be precise, he had lunged forward at an incredible speed, swinging his axe with the very arm that had just regenerated.
Boom!
Crash!
Roman Dmitry was pushed back.
It was an immense, destructive force. Even though Roman blocked the strike, the shockwave reverberated straight through his bones. Graxar was displaying a level of destructive power that was utterly incomparable to before.
"Graaargh!"
Boom!
Crash! Crash!
He unleashed a relentless barrage of attacks.
When Roman Dmitry raised his sword to block, Graxar swung his other hand. When Roman took a step back, Graxar immediately pursued him, slamming his axe down repeatedly. Roman Dmitry's body shook. Even though he was defending perfectly, Graxar's raw destructive power sent tremors straight through his guard. To the onlookers, Roman Dmitry appeared to be in extreme peril, as if his defenses could shatter at any moment.
Whoosh!
Rumble!
Graxar leaped high into the air.
As he raised his massive axe with both hands, a red aura and a violet energy intertwined, exuding an overwhelming, suffocating presence.
Boom!
Crash! Crash! Crash!
The onlookers squeezed their eyes shut.
The moment the axe slammed down, even masters like Ares were forced to retreat from the sheer force of the shockwave. Goosebumps broke out all over their bodies.
Before accepting the devil's power, Graxar was an opponent Ares could have fought on somewhat even terms, but the entity pushing Roman Dmitry back now was entirely different. Twice as strong? Three times? Simple numbers could not explain Graxar's transformation. The destructive energy, unlike anything they had ever seen, was actually pushing back Roman Dmitry's aura.
Crack.
The ground caved in.
The snow accumulated on the battlefield had already been blown away by the radiating energy, and even the raging blizzard could not penetrate the space between the two combatants due to the violent storm of aura. It was a battle of a transcendent scale. The soldiers of Luna were left speechless by Graxar's sheer might. If not for Roman Dmitry, there would have been no way for Luna's forces to defeat that monster.
"...If I kill only you... we will live."
It was a raspy, distorted voice.
It was neither the typical heavy breathing of an Orc nor Graxar's usual voice. The hoarse tone sounded as if it had crawled out from the very bottom of the Abyss. Yet, even as he lost his sense of self, he clung to a fierce desire to save his people. He did not care if he died here. No matter what the devil did after claiming his soul, the only thing that mattered to Graxar was ensuring the Orcs would not have to resort to cannibalizing their own kind to survive.
Thud!
He swung his left hand.
When Roman Dmitry blocked it, Graxar swung his axe again with his right arm.
Boom!
Crash! Crash!
A lethal strike.
He would kill this human without fail.
His desire boiled over. Moving at a speed that ordinary eyes could not track, he tore through the space, relentlessly cornering Roman Dmitry.
However.
Something was strange.
Roman Dmitry was not someone who would be overwhelmed like this. No matter how many times stronger Graxar had become by borrowing the devil's power, Roman Dmitry's martial prowess—which had severed Graxar's arm in a single blow—had completely dominated him earlier. Yet now, Graxar seemed to be pushing him back with one-sided momentum. Roman Dmitry surely had opportunities to counterattack, but his responses were so strictly defensive that it felt unnatural.
The reason was unknown.
But there was no time to think.
The moment Graxar gathered his aura once more to launch another devastating attack, Roman Dmitry's sword flashed.
Clang!
Rumble!
"Ugh!"
Graxar was thrown back.
It was a clash of pure strength. Even though he had detonated his violet energy, he was clearly forced back by Roman Dmitry's single strike.
His pupils trembled.
He had sold his soul to the devil. Such a result should have been impossible.
His eyes wide with shock, Graxar stared as Roman Dmitry looked back at him with utter indifference.
"Is this the best you can do?"
Those casually tossed words revealed the truth to the onlookers.
* * *
It had been intentional.
He had deliberately played defensively, absorbing the brunt of Graxar's full power head-on.
He was strong.
Roman had to admit it.
Graxar was a monster that no one other than Roman Dmitry could defeat, and if there were more than just one or two of such monsters, they would pose a massive threat to Dmitry. The Kronos Empire's ambition was backed by this exact kind of power. If the mage who had obliterated the capital of Odelia in a single blow was accompanied by monsters like this, then no matter how strong Roman Dmitry was, it would be difficult to stop them all.
Suddenly, a smile appeared on his face.
In this situation, Roman Dmitry felt a genuine sense of delight.
"Do you know what I hate the most?"
Graxar did not answer.
He merely panted heavily, desperately looking for an opening, poised to pounce at any moment.
However, he could not move.
As if his feet were glued to the ground, he could find absolutely no openings in his opponent's stance.
"A life where no rivals exist anymore."
In his past life, Baek Joong-hyuk had ascended to the absolute peak.
It was a goal achieved at merely the Earth Stage, not even the Realm of Heaven, and yet Baek Joong-hyuk's life after that point had been incredibly tedious. No matter how strong he became, there was no opponent left to test his strength against. As time passed, he ascended to even higher realms, but the meaning of that power began to fade. Baek Joong-hyuk's infamy weighed heavily on the world. Even those who enjoyed great fame in the Murim bowed their heads and fell to their knees at the mere mention of his name.
It was life's great irony.
While the young Baek Joong-hyuk had desired nothing but absolute supremacy, Roman Dmitry in his current life—intertwined with the memories of his past—hoped that the path to the throne would be as arduous as possible, filled with countless rivals.
Only then did it have meaning.
The sheer loneliness of having no equals, even after reaching the Realm of Heaven, was beyond words.
Therefore.
Not yet.
It was not over yet.
No matter what kind of existence Alexander was, or who stood behind him, Roman hoped this was not the end. If even he, who had not yet recovered the realm of his past life, had no rivals left to face, it would bring about a crushing sense of futility far worse than before. He was not even in his thirties yet. With so many days left to live, a fierce fighting spirit boiled within him.
And now, he was certain.
The force behind Kronos.
It was an existence against whom even his current self could not guarantee victory.
If merely infusing a fraction of its energy could turn Graxar into this, it was undoubtedly a being that transcended human limits. So how could he not rejoice? The fact that there was still an opponent he had to defeat, the fact that his current self was still lacking, brought a wide smile to Roman Dmitry's face.
"I hope you prepare far more than this. So that I can unleash my full power—my absolute everything."
Shring.
He raised his sword.
Looking at Graxar, who was paralyzed by pressure and could not even think of moving, Roman Dmitry drew upon the power of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art.
"Behold. This is the power you will have to withstand from now on."
Step.
Heavenly Demon's Sovereign Step, eighth step.
His aura exploded.
The energy erupting from his Dantian possessed an immense, explosive force, like an active volcano violently detonating.
'Heavenly Demon Sword Technique - Latter Half Second Form.'
Flash.
A single strike.
Graxar's body was instantly swept away by the storm of aura.
* * *
Annihilation.
His very existence vanished.
The onlookers were temporarily blinded and deafened.
Graxar's body was completely torn apart by the raging storm of aura, and when their vision finally returned, his presence was nowhere to be found. Everyone knew. The being who had stood before them was dead. The greatest Orc in the history of the Gray Wasteland had been unable to do anything against this overwhelming might.
They were dazed.
The number of Orcs remaining was still vast. But having witnessed the scene before them, they had no choice but to drop their weapons and raise the white flag.
"Chwiik! P-Please spare us!"
"Chwiik! We will dedicate our lives to Dmitry from now on. Please, just do not wipe us out."
Clatter! Clatter!
They all threw down their weapons.
They had lost all will to fight. Before this godlike power, they accepted that the war was over.
Roman Dmitry spoke.
"You must have had your own reasons. In the freezing cold of Arcadia, perhaps sacrificing other races was the only way for Orcs to survive. But if you had considered defeat, you should not have crossed the point of no return. From the moment you treated humans as food and stripped their flesh to eat, you and the humans of Arcadia became beings that cannot share the same sky."
"Chwiik! P-Please...!"
"Chwiik! Forgive us just this once!"
Fear spread like a plague among the ranks.
They instinctively knew that changing Roman Dmitry's mind was their sole hope of survival.
However.
"I have no particular ill will toward you. I simply refuse to set a precedent of showing mercy to those who cross that line."
Slash.
Spurt.
He severed the head of the Orc begging for its life.
Blood splattered across the snow. The moment thousands of eyes, stained with terror and confusion, turned toward Roman Dmitry, he issued a cold, absolute command.
"Kill them all."
Extermination.
At his resolute command, the slaughter began.
* * *
Meanwhile.
Caden and Jairo hurried their steps.
Hearing of Roman Dmitry's plan to face tens of thousands of Orcs alone, they could not simply sit back and wait for the results.
'This is the result of my actions. I cannot let Lord Roman Dmitry bear all the responsibility. Even if I die on the battlefield fighting the Orcs, I will take responsibility for the defeat and die for Luna.'
It was Jairo.
His body was not yet fully recovered, but he actively urged the troops forward. He stumbled with every step. Jairo's body screamed at him to take even a brief rest, but with eyes filled with fierce determination, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to endure the pain. The memory of that day was still vivid in his mind. When they had allied with the Yetis to lure the Orcs into a trap, Graxar's sudden appearance from behind had brought immense, suffocating despair.
At that time, the soldiers had looked to Jairo.
They had hoped he would resolve the nightmare before them, but Jairo could not guarantee their lives.
So he marched on.
He walked, and walked again.
Normally, night marches were strictly avoided on days with heavy snowstorms, but except for a few stragglers, the rest of the men cut back on sleep to head toward the Elves' territory. His thoughts were a tangled mess. What on earth was happening there? It was highly likely that they had clashed a few times and were now in a tense standoff, warily watching each other.
Tens of thousands against thousands.
It was not a war that would end in a short time.
Caden had told him to trust Roman Dmitry, but Jairo's guilt would not allow him to harbor such complacent thoughts.
How long had they walked?
Finally, they set foot in the Elves' territory.
He gripped his sword tightly. He had intended to lend his strength the moment he entered the battlefield, but the further they moved, the more Jairo's eyes began to tremble violently.
"W-What on earth is this..."
Before them stretched an uneven snowfield.
The contours of the snowfield were not formed by drifted snow, but by the countless corpses faintly visible beneath it.
Corpses filled his entire field of vision.
Jairo stopped dead in his tracks.