Chapter 24
Chapter 24
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Berserker Imur
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Berserker Imur.
With his characteristic reckless drive, he took over the Byzantine underworld and used it as a base to oust the smaller nobles of the south, becoming one of the reform faction's key figures.
His skills were impressive enough, but the reason Michael placed such heavy reliance on him was Imur's utterly lowly origins.
No matter how skilled he was, Michael was convinced he could never escape the limitations of a common thug.
Damian had quite a few dealings with him as well, and his impression of the man was always the same.
‘What a trashy bastard.'
Unnecessarily extreme and excessively violent. Infinitely lenient with himself, but mercilessly strict with his subordinates.
He had a particular fondness for women, so the cries of the women in conquered territories never seemed to end.
Whether before his regression or now, the guy was consistent. Even as time passed, that trashy personality wouldn't change.
He kept sending his underlings, but in the end, Imur himself would make a move. Given his flashy nature, he wouldn't ambush Damian in some ordinary way.
Naturally, mana bombs came to mind. It was a weapon he frequently used during the civil war.
Imur would strap mana bombs to the backs of prisoners or deserters and order them to charge into enemy lines, promising to spare them if they survived. Naturally, there were no survivors.
It was a grave violation of imperial law, but Michael and the reform faction's leadership turned a blind eye. That was just how things were back then.
In fact, his investigations through the children revealed that eerie clanging noises echoed from underground every night. It wasn't hard to estimate when those sounds would reach this house.
That very night, Damian evacuated the others and waited alone for Imur.
The ground shook as a pillar of blue light erupted, but Damian's body was already encased in stone scale armor.
The explosion caused no damage. The only issue was the blood surging up from the stone scales' backlash.
Stone scale armor offered top-tier defense, but the oppressive pressure it exerted was the problem.
"Short-ass punk."
The words slipped out reflexively the moment he saw Imur's face. It was one of the man's nicknames. Of course, rumor had it that a subordinate caught using it had his tongue ripped out while still alive.
"You... Eric Hilton!!"
Imur ground his teeth and glared at Damian. In truth, he was quite short for a man—around Anna's height, or maybe a bit shorter.
Still, his body was covered in solid muscle, giving him a compact, sturdy impression rather than just small.
Yet, his complex about his height always lingered in the back of Imur's mind.
At Damian's shocking remark, Imur's subordinates gulped nervously. They figured this outsider from afar wouldn't die an easy death today.
"I don't know what trick you pulled, but this works out even better. This lord will chop you to pieces himself."
Imur drew a pair of curved swords from behind his back, issuing his threat. A translucent aura began to seep from his entire body.
The blades were incomparably larger than his subordinates' curved swords—nearly the size of a child.
Yet, as he spun them fore and aft, there wasn't a hint of strain on Imur's face.
"You lot stay put. I've got this on my own."
When his subordinates reached for their own curved swords at their waists, Imur stopped them.
In the underworld, reputation was everything. His had already taken a serious hit, so he needed to restore it in equal measure.
There was nothing more to say between them. Even setting aside their pre-regression history, there was plenty of bad blood.
Imur flipped his curved swords over his shoulders and leaped. It was a high jump that belied his short stature.
Boom! As Damian flicked his wrist, a stone scale boulder erupted in front of him. It was larger than an average adult man.
Imur didn't swing at the stone scale boulder needlessly. Extreme as he was, he wasn't a brute.
He had already realized it was the same thing that allowed Damian to withstand the mana bomb.
Clashing head-on would just snap his precious curved swords.
Instead, Imur twisted his body in midair like an acrobat. The boulder, charging in a straight line, grated against his mana-reinforced muscles with a thunderous roar.
One of Imur's shoulders glowed red-hot. But ignoring it, he swung his curved swords at Damian.
Allowing the enemy that close was fatal for a mage. It meant forfeiting the advantages magic held over aura.
But Damian's expression remained calm. Rather than pulling away, he dove into Imur's reach.
Seeing this, Imur twisted his lips into a smirk. A typical mage would use flight magic or something to create distance, but Eric Hilton made no such choice.
He couldn't, probably. Just some guy relying on weird tricks because his fundamentals were weak.
As long as he watched for those variables, there was no way he'd lose in a straight fight.
Confident in that, Imur unleashed a storm of strikes with his twin curved swords.
'Already at this level?'
No matter how exceptional Damian's body was, it was overwhelming to keep up with Imur enhanced by mana.
For every step Damian took, Imur's swords struck twice, even three times.
But what he had to do was simple. Dodge what he could. Block the rest with stone scales.
The density of stone scales scaled with time and mana invested. In this frantic moment, they couldn't match the ones that endured the mana bomb.
Slash! The moment Imur's sword strikes connected, the stone scales shattered like powder. But the impact disrupted his rhythm, creating a brief opening.
Damian seized it, wrapping his fist in stone scales and slamming it into Imur's body.
That forced Imur to pull back instead. And as he did, stone scale boulders surged toward him once more.
"Pah."
Imur spat blood-mixed phlegm. He'd avoided a fatal wound, but there was some internal bleeding.
The fierce exchange continued to heat up.
"..."
The remaining Brotherhood members simply watched the fight. Some were so entranced they nearly dropped their curved swords.
A swordsman and a mage in close quarters? It defied common sense.
Rumors of the lowliest of nobles, the illegitimate child Damian, and the new trends among mages these days—maybe this was part of it.
Imur had told them not to interfere, but if he ordered them in now, more than half would hesitate.
'Still feels a bit awkward.'
After contracting with Hagenti, Damian had pondered the best ways to use stone scales. Both their density and generation speed were incomparable to his pre-regression versions.
But the weight they imposed on the body was unavoidable. So, he'd practiced creating them in optimal amounts at optimal speeds.
To minimize hindrance to his movements. He'd confirmed their utility in real combat, but they were still lacking.
He'd learned black magic—stone scales—before his regression, but could hardly use them. The pressure often made him pass out.
Mastering this black magic properly would take more time. That was why the fight with Imur was dragging on unexpectedly.
'If only I could use hellfire, this would be easy.'
His clash with Arkin, the Arneisian shipboard gala incident, and the failed assassination in the Teya Mountains. Green hellfire had become something like Damian's signature.
Of course, in a pinch, he'd risk exposing his identity to use that power. But this fight with Imur was just one part of what Damian needed to settle in the south.
And he still had time.
'Eric Hilton... what the hell is this guy?'
Imur was the one truly baffled. He'd expected the guy wasn't ordinary after he easily handled his sent subordinates, but this was beyond imagination—a total lunatic.
It went beyond just trading blows in close range. In raw power, speed, and aura control, Imur had the clear edge.
Naturally, far more of Imur's attacks landed, and every time, Eric Hilton defended with earth-attribute magic.
Imur couldn't wrap his head around it. He should have been faster, yet that rocky armor always blocked his strikes.
Right on target, with the bare minimum mass. As if it could predict his attacks.
"You. Have we met somewhere before?"
The fight lapsed into a brief lull. Now, it wasn't just the Brotherhood watching the midnight brawl.
Nearby residents peered from alleys and rooftops. Some would surely spread the rumors.
There was no retreating further. That fact pressed hardest on Imur.
"What're you on about, short-ass."
At the fresh insult, veins bulged on Imur's forehead.
It made sense for him to sense it. In truth, Damian was partially predicting Imur's attacks.
It was the guy's long-ingrained habit. Strikes aimed to inflict maximum agony. The crude method back-alley thugs used to instill fear.
On top of that, his training with Derek shone here. Reading where the curved swords were headed from their motion was now easy.
"Pah hahaha. Enjoy that smugness while it lasts—it's over now."
Imur's body had turned bright red. And that wasn't all. The intangible aura cloaking him dyed blood-red like mist.
"B-Boss!!"
"That's dangerous!"
Slash! Imur abruptly hurled his twin curved swords. Roooar! Then, like a beast, he howled and clawed at his own body.
"It's over, kid!"
With his shout, Imur's form vanished. His two curved swords thudded dully to the ground.
At the same instant, Damian's vision filled with night sky. His balance shattered suddenly, followed by a brutal impact to his waist.
"I'll kill you sloooow!"
Imur's savage face loomed close. His bloodshot eyes looked drugged.
Both of Imur's hands clamped down on Damian's head from the sides. Damian reflexively formed stone scales, but unable to focus properly, they crumbled instantly.
He kept reforming them, buying only a little time before Imur's palms crushed down on his skull.
Damian reached out with both hands to pry at Imur's wrists. But it wasn't enough.
『Frenzy』. The "berserker" moniker from the civil war stemmed from this trait.
In this state, Imur's physical abilities surged to levels incomparable with normal aura use. He felt no pain, either.
The tradeoff was losing his reason for a while. Knowing this, his Brotherhood underlings fled without looking back.
After smashing Eric Hilton's head, those hands might turn on them next.
The onlookers sensed something ominous and hurriedly scattered or hid indoors.
"Gaaahhh!!"
A sudden scream made people turn back toward the collapsed buildings. But the scene unfolding was not what they expected.
"W-What... is this...?!"
The tables turned in an instant. Eric Hilton—no, Damian—looked down at Imur, withered like some mummy.