Now Only You Remain
KWAHHHHHNG!
A colossal pillar of fire erupted beyond the hill. Crimson flames, red as if they meant to tear the sky itself apart, roared upward in a towering column. For an instant the surroundings brightened as though the sun had risen; at the same moment the air itself heated, and a searing blast of wind rolled all the way to the Imperial army’s main camp.
Soldiers came bursting from their tents, breath catching in their throats.
“W-what the hell is that?”
“What in the world… is going on over there?”
“Did a demon appear or something…?”
They stared at one another, unable to hide their shock. Some snatched up weapons in terror; others simply stood frozen, eyes locked on the blazing column. No one knew what it was, yet one truth was certain—
An impossible battle… is being fought.
Something far beyond their own level was unfolding on that hill.
Leorn, too, watched the flames in silence. The blood-red light painted his face; unease clouded his eyes. Sweat ran from his brow down his cheek, yet he made no move to wipe it away. More pressing than that—
“Sharokl! Sharokl!”
“Yes, Commander!”
“Find out immediately what is happening on that hill. Dispatch a recon party at once and get me a clear report!”
“U-understood!”
Sharokl answered in a rush and called his men together. He picked out the swiftest among them.
“Move fast. If you’re late, there won’t even be bones left to collect.”
“Yes, sir!”
The scouts were sent straight toward the hill. Once they had left the main camp, the soldiers who remained simply milled about in confusion, rooted to the spot.
“Damn it… what the hell is happening out there.”
Leorn scowled at the slowly fading pillar of fire and bit down hard on his lip. He hated unexpected variables more than anything, and nothing about the present situation pleased him. His fingers clenched until the knuckles whitened—an old habit when anxiety gripped him—but there was no way to ease it now. All he could do was curse under his breath.
“Shit.”
He could only wait for the recon party to return. Throughout the night the soldiers in the main camp lay sleepless, ears strained toward the intermittent thunder of distant impacts.
The combined assault of Ulgraak and Makcrowdon was ferocious beyond imagination. Every strike crashed like a tidal wave that shook the battlefield itself, and Arteon could do little more than take those waves head-on and endure.
CLAAANG!
Sparks leapt from the tip of his spear; Arteon’s face twisted. The attack was far from over.
“HRAAAH!”
Ulgraak spun, adding rotational force, and drove a blow straight at Arteon’s side. Arteon leapt back, trying to clear the range, but—
CLAAANG!
—escaping the full reach of the strike proved impossible.
Ghk…!
He managed to block, yet the impact was so tremendous that blood surged up his throat. Arteon clenched his teeth and forced it down, but a thin stream still forced its way past his lips and ran down his chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand—yet Ulgraak’s eyes flashed the instant he saw it.
“He’s reeling. We press him now…!”
“Right.”
Makcrowdon answered in a low growl and moved. Ulgraak charged first. His massive frame exploded forward like a beast, kicking off the earth and hurtling toward Arteon. Behind him Makcrowdon gripped the haft of his battle-axe, drew a sharp breath, and hurled the aura-wreathed weapon with all his strength.
SSUUUAAAK!
The axe tore through the air with terrifying speed, skimming past Ulgraak’s shoulder so closely that there was no room to dodge. Arteon’s spear whipped out on pure instinct, deflecting its path.
CHAAENG!
Even though he had only glanced the blow aside, a crushing shock raced up his arms. Arteon’s brow twitched at the force that threatened to wrench his whole body. And in that same instant—
BOOM!
—Ulgraak launched himself skyward. His figure darkened as it closed in, vanishing for a heartbeat into the night. Then the axe that had risen high above came crashing straight down toward Arteon’s skull.
No escaping this.
Makcrowdon’s throw had been meant to steal his timing. With no other choice left, Arteon gritted his teeth and wrenched every drop of mana from his body. He raised the spear with savage force just as the blow landed.
KWAHHHHHNG!
An overwhelming power drove straight down. The earth cratered; Arteon’s feet sank to the ankles.
“Khuh…!”
Agony as though his entire body were shattering flooded through him. He clenched his molars and tried to hold, but scarlet blood sprayed from his mouth and soaked the ground. He had blocked the strike, yet the aftershock was too great; he staggered a full step backward. The assault did not stop.
“We’re not finished.”
Beast-like eyes blazing, Ulgraak wrapped his axe in crimson aura. Unlike their first clash, he now poured every ounce of his strength into Arteon.
“HRAAAAAAAH!”
BOOM! CLAAANG! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!
Blow after blow hammered into Arteon; his body shook violently. He managed to defend, yet every impact carried the force to tear him apart. And then—
“HRAAH!”
—Ulgraak spun once more, adding rotational power, and unleashed a final crushing strike.
KWAHHHNG!
Aura collided with aura in a thunderous explosion that slammed into Arteon from every side.
“GAAAH!”
He tried to stand firm, teeth locked, but a scream tore free and his body was flung through the air. He tumbled across the ground, rolling three or four times before slamming into a tree trunk and stopping.
THUD-THUD-THUD—CRACK!
Lying on the cold earth, gasping, Arteon thought:
So… facing both of them was impossible after all…?
Confidence that he had reached the realm of aura—no, arrogance. That arrogance had brought him to this.
If I only bought time…
He had believed he could at least drag the fight out. Only now did he understand that belief had been pure hubris. Countless thoughts raced through his mind, yet no clear answer presented itself.
Then—
Thud. Thud.
—two enormous shadows fell across him. Arteon staggered to his feet and faced them. Ulgraak and Makcrowdon approached side by side, looking down. Cold, merciless eyes. From their height of more than two meters the gaze felt like that of beasts sizing up prey. Yet there was no complacency in those eyes, no leisure—only the iron will to kill him, without a single opening left. Arteon bit his lip hard.
Makcrowdon spoke in a heavy voice.
“I will admit it… I was impressed by your skill. Even if you are a dog of the Empire, I have never in my life seen a warrior like you.”
He slowly raised his axe.
“Had you been born a brave warrior of our people and looked upon the same sky, it would have been better. Consider it your misfortune that you met us here. You have already done everything you could.”
At those words Ulgraak tightened his grip on his own axe-haft.
“…I will take the price of Moldur’s arm.”
Their auras exploded. Faced with that absolute death sentence, Arteon swallowed hard without meaning to. And in that instant—
“This ends now.”
“I will kill you…!”
—the combined assault of Ulgraak and Makcrowdon crashed down like lightning once more. A wall of death that could neither be fled nor avoided was closing in.
In that moment Arteon’s vision slowed. The air thickened as though it clung to him; every sound of the world receded until only the thunder of his own heartbeat remained.
…This feeling.
He had known it before—every time death had brushed past him. On the fiercest, most merciless battlefield of the continent, the Northern Front, Arteon had survived more than ten years. Dozens, hundreds of deaths had flashed before his eyes. Each time he had lived. Exactly like this.
SSUUAAAK!
“……!”
The spear in Arteon’s hand shot forward like a bolt of lightning. Caught off guard by the sudden throw, Ulgraak hastily batted it aside with his axe. That tiny opening was all Arteon needed. He dropped his hips, lowered his stance, and launched himself like a thunderbolt.
BOOM!
Arteon slammed into Ulgraak’s waist in a full-body tackle. Shock flooded the warlord’s face as he was driven backward.
“W-what the—!”
“You insane bastard!”
To charge bare-handed into aura-coated axes was an act that denied all common sense—no, it was simply the act of a madman. Had he given up on fighting altogether?
Ulgraak’s left hand clamped onto Arteon’s shoulder and he started to raise the axe—
“I’ll kill you— GAAHK!”
—but Arteon flung a fistful of dirt straight into his eyes. He had scooped the earth the moment he dropped low.
“Khuh!”
Ulgraak’s vision blurred; he clawed frantically at his face. Yet that was not Arteon’s true goal.
Left shoulder…!
There, between the plates of armor, was the bandaged wound Arteon himself had inflicted once before.
THWACK!
A thick branch punched clean through the injury.
“GAAAAAAAAAH!”
Ulgraak’s scream tore across the battlefield. Even a branch without a sharpened edge, driven through flesh and muscle, brought pain beyond imagination.
“You bastard!”
Makcrowdon bellowed and lunged, forced to reach with empty hands because the two fighters were too tightly entangled for him to swing his aura-wreathed axe. Exactly as Arteon had planned.
THWACK!
Still latched onto Ulgraak, Arteon drove his fist into the branch once more, burying it deeper, then—
CRUNCH!
—threw his entire body backward and smashed his forehead into Makcrowdon’s face. The warlord’s nose shattered; blood gushed in a torrent.
“Ghk…!”
What a complete brawl this had become. Neither of them had ever imagined they would be forced into such a filthy street fight. Yet that brief chaos created the opening Arteon needed. He spun at once toward the fallen Ulgraak. Despite the agony in his shoulder, Ulgraak swung his axe desperately. Half-lying, he could not form aura, but the raw power of the blow could not be ignored.
Yet—
CLANG!
—Arteon caught the strike on his bracer. Then he poured mana into his right fist and smashed the lower haft of the axe.
CLAAANG!
The metal shaft shattered; the bladed head spun free into the air. Arteon snatched it from the sky. Both Makcrowdon’s and Ulgraak’s eyes went wide.
“N-no!”
Makcrowdon, still clutching his broken nose, roared. But blue aura was already coiling around the axe now gripped in Arteon’s hand. Weaponless, Ulgraak crossed his arms in a desperate X-guard—
CRUNCH!
—yet the axe sheared through both arms, punched through his throat, and buried itself in the earth beneath.
Scarlet blood fanned across the ground in a spreading pool. For a moment time itself seemed to freeze. Slowly, Arteon rose from where he had collapsed across Ulgraak’s body. He looked as though both strength and spirit had been utterly spent… yet—
W-why…
—did he feel so terrifying?
Arteon turned his head and held out the axe, still dripping blood, toward Makcrowdon.
“Now only you remain.”
What stood there was no longer a boy soldier. It was—
“…the Reaper.”
Death itself.