Nowhere Left to Run
“C-Commander! The 3rd Platoon has returned!”
As dusk settled over the fort, exhausted soldiers emerged at the entrance. Led by Grein, the men of the 3rd Platoon dragged themselves forward, every step a struggle. Several staggered on the brink of collapse, dried blood caking their helmets and armor. Behind the fatigue carved into their faces lay a deeper despair and self-loathing.
“Everyone make it back?” Hadel asked as he looked them over. A moment later he noticed one man missing. “…Where is Arteon?”
“That is…” Grein lowered his head. “To cover our escape… he’s drawing the Kar alone.”
A murmur ran through the gathered soldiers. Guilt and shame darkened the already haggard faces of the platoon even further.
“….”
Hadel’s mouth closed into a hard line. The situation was absurd. In the short time he had known Arteon, this felt exactly like something the man would do. Yet even for someone who had already shattered every expectation, this was far too dangerous. One look at the 3rd Platoon told the story—how fierce the fighting must have been. Thanks to Arteon and his men, nearly fifty scouts had come home alive. And now, in that state of utter exhaustion, he was out there alone, trying to shake a Kar pursuit. The odds of survival were razor-thin.
Then a man stepped forward without a word, shaking out his black cloak. Beneath the blood-red light of the setting sun his eyes flashed sharp and clear.
“We need to move quickly.”
The words were short, but absolute. Hadel nodded.
“I’m counting on you.”
He did not speak the name, yet everyone present knew exactly who stood before them. Seran Belamot—gatekeeper of the 4th Defense Line’s main stronghold, and the most formidable warrior under Hadel’s command. Tasked with protecting the very heart of the line, he rarely took the field. But not now. With every available force required, he could not simply stand watch. The blade that had long guarded the final wall of the stronghold would now drive into the enemy’s heart.
Seran inclined his head slightly under Hadel’s gaze.
“Do not worry. I will cut every last one of them down and bring the 3rd Platoon Leader back.”
His voice was low, yet iron resolve rang through every syllable. He turned to the soldiers formed up behind him. The detachment was small, but each man approached the 2-star level—an elite force holding their battle aura tightly reined, waiting only for the order.
Together they strode into the mist-shrouded front. A strange tension and silence settled over the fort. Hadel watched their backs until they vanished, then finally released the breath he had been holding.
“Please… succeed.”
Their side and the Kar had both thrown their blades toward the front. Those blades were nearly at the end of their arcs. Perhaps this would be the last. Whichever side won this fight…
Will seize the initiative in this war.
Hadel held that conviction and kept his tension sharp. And out on the battlefield where darkness was slowly swallowing the light, a single keen spear continued to whirl alone with savage force.
Slash!
Bursting through dense undergrowth, Arteon skidded to a sudden halt. Confirming the two warriors still on his trail, he twisted and drove his spear at the one on the right in a single breath.
“Hyaaaaah!”
With the shout, Iglis shot forward, batting aside the enemy’s spear and punching straight through his torso.
Crunch!
“Ghk—!”
The blade shattered the breastbone, destroyed the organs within, and burst out the far side. The sheer destructive power made the second Kar warrior flinch for a heartbeat—but he refused to let the chance slip.
Now…!
“Die!”
It was already too late to recover the spear. A spear’s reach was its strength, yet the time needed to pull it free was just as long. The window lasted only an instant, but for men dancing on the edge of life and death it was worth a fortune in gold. The axe blade was already falling toward Arteon’s shoulder.
In that same instant—
Whoosh!
Arteon lunged forward instead. Turning his back and driving off the ground, he slammed straight into the warrior’s chest.
Thud!
“Kh—!”
The Kar fighter seized Arteon’s hair with panicked eyes, ready to wrench the head back and finish the axe stroke. Before the blade could fall—
Shunk!
A dull impact painted the warrior’s vision red. The moment he tried to twist Arteon’s head, Arteon had planted the spear shaft upright and kicked it upward with the top of his foot. The rebounding weapon punched up through the jaw and out the crown of the skull—an utterly unthinkable strike, a twisted technique no ordinary spear art could ever produce.
The Kar warrior crumpled. Arteon shoved the collapsing body aside and wrenched his spear free. Scarlet blood ran down the shaft in thick rivulets. He wanted to wipe it clean, but there was no time.
“Hah… hah…!”
Arteon forced strength into his eyes and dragged in ragged breaths. His shoulders heaved; a metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. The enemy numbers were falling, yet his expression only grew darker.
…My mana.
Fatigue stacked from every fight, ceaseless combat that had drained both stamina and mana to the dregs. If not for Vargas Northern Spearmanship, forged for real battle…
…I’d have been dead long ago.
He felt a quiet gratitude toward Vargas, a man whose face he had never even seen. At the same time, despair at the present moment began to seep in.
Then a heavy, cold voice drifted from a short distance away.
“…Remarkable skill. Without the Taman’s foresight… we might well have lost this battle as well.”
Moldur spoke without exaggeration, simply stating what he saw. Had any ordinary warrior led this force in his place…
This boy might have wiped us out completely.
An enemy, yet a warrior worthy of genuine awe. Moldur regarded Arteon with calm, settled eyes. The refined battle aura rolling off the youth was nothing like that of ordinary Kar fighters.
“….”
Arteon swallowed hard without meaning to. The massive axe resting on the man’s shoulder and the beast-like pressure that radiated from him made his skin prickle.
…Moldur.
The right hand of the chieftain Ulgraak. Arteon bit down hard on his lip. Behind him rose a sheer cliff; every avenue of escape had already been sealed.
Moldur advanced slowly.
“Nowhere left to run. Offer your neck quietly and I will grant you a painless death.”
He already knew that would never happen. The proof was Arteon raising his spear in answer. The fingers around the shaft and the legs planted on the earth trembled faintly—yet the eyes that met his were as fierce as they had been at the very first clash.
Moldur’s grip tightened on the axe.
Boom!
His body launched forward like a loosed arrow. The axe rose high and came down like a thunderbolt.
Crash!
Spear and axe met with a sound like tearing metal. Moldur could not fully hide his surprise that the exhausted youth had stopped the blow.
This worn down… and still…
Arteon tasted blood from his clenched teeth. The shock that raced up both arms when he caught the strike sank into the marrow. His spent stamina begged him to simply collapse.
Boom! Clang!
Moldur’s successive attacks forced Arteon to swing his spear like a madman. Step by step he was driven back. The perfect trajectories that had once cut down Kar warriors were gone. In peak condition it might have been different, but with both stamina and mana empty, facing this man was all but impossible.
“Hyaaaaah!”
Clang!
One heavy blow sent the spear spinning from Arteon’s hands into the air. His palms were raw and crimson; sensation had already fled them.
In that instant Moldur’s eyes lit.
The unprotected chest filled his vision. Without hesitation he swung.
“This ends now!”
A moment of absolute crisis. Stamina gone, mana gone. Arteon watched the axe hurtling toward him. The world seemed to slow; every detail stood out with terrible clarity. When he thought there was nothing left he could do—
…Is this how I die?
Had he clawed his way along this path only to meet such an end?
For what?
Why am I even here?
Thoughts chained one after another, and with them the final memories of his previous life flashed past like a lantern show—Moldrek’s sneering face, and the ones who had hidden behind him, driving Arteon and countless comrades to their deaths.
Those bastards…
I cannot die until I’ve killed every last one of them…!
“Uaaaaaaaaaah!”
A scream tore from Arteon’s throat. In the next heartbeat both hands clamped onto the axe blade. Moldur’s pupils shook violently at the sight of the youth gripping the edge with pressed palms.
H-how…?!
The surprise lasted only a breath. Moldur seized the haft with both hands and poured power into his arms.
Crack, creak…!
A sudden contest of raw strength. Veins stood out on Moldur’s forehead; blood spilled from the corner of Arteon’s mouth. Seeing it, Moldur threw his head back and laughed.
“Khahahaha! Die just like this!”
The resistance was impressive, but the boy clearly had no strength left. Arteon held on with everything he had and stared at Moldur. Death felt close enough to touch.
Then—
Crack… crack-crack-crack…!
A clear sound of something shattering rose from within Arteon’s body. At the same time an intense pain—no, a sensation far stranger than mere pain—erupted from the lower abdomen where his mana core lay and flooded every limb.
And then—
Whoooooosh!
A vast storm of mana, as though long-suppressed power had finally burst free, wrapped around his entire frame.
Fwoooom!
Whoooooosh!
The colossal force drove Moldur back a step before he could stop himself.
I still have to—!
The thought never finished.
Boom!
“Ghk!”
Arteon’s kick slammed dead-center into Moldur’s chest. The heavy body flew backward and smashed into a tree. In an instant the air turned ice-cold. The surrounding Kar sensed something fundamental had changed, yet none of them wanted to admit it.
Regardless of their denial—
“….”
Arteon closed his hand around the fallen spear once more.
Humm…!
Restored mana flooded his flesh, knitting wounds, then flowed into the spear tip. At the same time a vivid blue aura wrapped the weapon in a clear, murderous light. The Kar warriors’ eyes shook hard.
How could a boy who looked so young…
“A-Aura…?”
“Aura…?”
Moldur’s expression slowly hardened as he stared. And at the center of every gaze—
“…Huu.”
Arteon’s eyes locked onto them like a beast that had finally bared its fangs.