I Am Still Alive

He already knew.

He knew the Mad Blood Ogre was a martial artist who had reached the Master realm. He knew it was strong against fire. He knew it had a filthy nature, toying with its prey before the kill.

Because he knew all of it, he had decided to turn the trap the creature had dug against it.

It was the only way to win. No—the only way to survive.

A low, grinding roar rolled out as the Mad Blood Ogre shed its disguise, and the weight of the air itself changed. It felt as if slabs of iron were crushing down on every inch of his body. Raon clenched his teeth and dragged up every last shred of killing intent that still belonged to the assassin he had once been.

Killing intent and madness collided in a shockwave of presence, and Burren, Runaan, and Marta—whose realms could not withstand it—were hurled backward.

That, too, was according to plan.

But the most important part was still ahead. After shoving the three of them clear of the Mad Blood Ogre's Ganggi, Raon twisted his body so violently it felt as if his waist would snap.

A colossal fist, wreathed in Ganggi, scythed past his left shoulder.

It was not even a direct hit. The blow merely grazed him—and the bones of his left arm were pulverized all the same.

"Ghk—!"

Raon bit down until his teeth threatened to crack. Through superhuman endurance he swallowed the pain, and with his right arm he raised his sword.

He wound every scrap of aura he possessed, every drop of killing intent, around the tip of the blade.

"You—!"

The Mad Blood Ogre's eyes flew wide with shock as a frost-laden edge shot straight for its heart.

A piercing shriek rang in his ears as the blue edge split the ogre armor and drove in.

"Ngh…"

But Raon's eyes did not brighten. They darkened, slowly, like a sky after sunset.

"Damn it…"

A sword tip that should have punched through steel itself had been stopped by the Mad Blood Ogre's hide. It would go no further.

"Hah. Impressive."

The Mad Blood Ogre let out a breath of genuine admiration, Raon's blade still buried in its chest.

"I never dreamed you would turn my trap against me. I truly almost died. But…"

The blue sword lodged in its chest snapped with a sharp, ringing crack.

"Gah—!"

Raon coughed blood as he was flung backward.

"You were simply too weak. The gap between you and me is not something a surprise attack of that caliber can close."

The broken blade slid from the Mad Blood Ogre's chest as easily as a stone pulled from mud.

Stopped by muscle…

Raon bit down on lips already caked with blood. The creature had reinforced its skin and muscle and simply caught his sword. It was the kind of method only a monster that had reached the Master realm—where the body itself answered every command—could use.

"Hah…"

Raon staggered back and looked behind him: at Burren, Runaan, Marta, and the trainees who still remained.

"The plan is over. All of you, run!"

"R-Raon?"

"Hey. You…"

"You can't win."

In this state, no trick would be enough. The plan had collapsed, and the fight ended here. All that was left was flight.

"I command you in the name of the head trainee. Fall back with the villagers! The family support unit Crane went to fetch is already on its way. Run west!"

"Raon."

"I-I'll…"

"Burren Zieghart!"

Raon's lips trembled as he shouted the name of the boy who was trying to push himself to his feet.

"Is dying a dog's death here the Zieghart path you talked about? If it is, then fight with me. If it isn't—then do what you have to do!"

"I…"

Burren bit his lip. The hesitation was long. The decision was not.

"We're retreating. Everyone, fall back! Focus on getting out of here!"

He tore his lip open on his own teeth, turned, and ran toward the village. The trainees' eyes welled as they followed him.

"Ah…"

In Runaan's violet gaze, Raon was caught—clutching a shattered arm, coughing blood.

"Aaaaaaah!"

She screamed and lunged toward the Mad Blood Ogre—and Marta, behind her, struck her across the neck.

A dull crack, and Runaan went limp and dropped.

Marta slung the unconscious girl over her shoulder and looked at Raon. The question in her eyes was simple: Is there really no way?

Raon nodded.

Marta turned and sprinted after Burren.

"…Thank you."

Raon smiled, thin as a thread. He was lucky they were people he could talk to.

The Mad Blood Ogre ripped the remaining sword fragment from its chest entirely. Blood ran, then stopped; the wound began to close. The stamina and regeneration of an ogre.

Damn it.

Raon bit his lip. The Bleeding Curse had landed, but it was worthless now. Even if the creature were weakened by half instead of a tenth, he still could not win.

"You think those insects will actually escape?"

The Mad Blood Ogre crushed the sword fragment in its fist as if it were a biscuit.

"I loosed ogres around the area. It won't be long before they're eaten alive. No—before that…"

It chuckled, looking down at him.

"Do you think you can last? With that arm? With that body?"

Raon did not answer. He was not looking at the Mad Blood Ogre. He was looking at Wrath, nested in his arm.

Wrath.

"At last, it is This King's turn."

Wrath rose like smoke. His presence alone towered far above the Master-realm Mad Blood Ogre.

"As This King has told you, your power cannot break that thing. Hand over your body. This King shall freeze not only that creature, but this entire space."

Hah. You really are good at getting the wrong idea.

"What?"

A deal.

Raon coughed blood, and both eyes lit.

"A deal?"

You said once that you could trade in wrath. I'll take your wrath. Restore my body and my aura to normal.

"You…"

Wrath flared a pillar of blue frost.

"You fool! Even if you died and came back, your power could not take them down! Recovery will not make you win!"

I'll handle that. Are you doing it or not?

"Nngh…"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Faced with Raon's unyielding stance, Wrath ground his teeth through a long, reluctant silence.

"…Very well. This King shall grant you ten points of wrath and restore your body completely. But you will accomplish nothing."

Shut up and give it.

"Hmph!"

Something like a snort of frost left Wrath, and his cold began to sink into Raon's flesh.

"Hhk—!"

It felt as if his skin were being shredded by ice. His teeth locked.

The broken arm and the cracked ribs set themselves. The pain of mending was worse than the pain of breaking; his lips shook uncontrollably.

"Hah…"

Tears fell before he knew it. Across his past life and this one, it was among the worst pain he had ever felt.

"What are you?"

Watching an arm twist itself back into place, the Mad Blood Ogre stopped walking. Its eyes went wide.

"Hah… hah…"

Raon dragged in air. Even the aura flooding back into a drained dantian was agony.

But that was not the true pain.

His lungs crumpled like dry kindling. His heart clenched tight. A needle seemed to drive into every cell.

"Ghh…"

The pain was almost secondary. Body and soul felt misaligned, as if something viscous and wicked had taken root inside him.

Even so…

The recovery was real. His mind was scraped raw, but his body and aura had returned stronger than usual.

"I cannot understand it."

The Mad Blood Ogre rolled its yellow eyes, thick with doubt.

"You haven't drunk ogre blood, or troll blood. How do you possess that kind of regeneration? It defies all reason…"

"You wouldn't understand."

How much this hurts.

"Hoo…"

He let out a burning breath and picked up a fallen trainee's sword from the dirt.

Wrath.

"What now, you insolent brat."

I might die. Want to make a bet with me?

"A bet?"

Yeah. I'm betting that thing dies.

"More madness."

What, scared?

"Very well! As you like! This King bets that you will hand over your body."

Hearing Wrath's answer, Raon leveled the sword at the Mad Blood Ogre.

"Come. I'll keep you company until dawn."

"Hah! Hah!"

Marta ran with Runaan on her back, following Burren and the trainees. Everyone was sprinting at full strength, so they caught up to the trainees and villagers ahead in no time.

"W-what's going on?"

"We'll be all right, won't we?"

The villagers were walking and jogging as fast as they could, but to Marta it was infuriatingly slow. It couldn't be helped. That didn't stop the irritation from rising.

"Damn it. Damn it…"

Burren's eyes wavered. His clenched fists shook. He walked as if in a daze, seeing neither what was ahead nor what was around him.

"Nnh…"

"Raon…"

"Ah—"

He was not the only one. The other trainees' eyes were empty, as if their souls had been scooped out.

"That bastard."

In a space filled with nothing but muttered curses and ragged breathing, Marta spoke, low.

"He stood alone in front of that giant monster. For us. And for these people."

Her voice was thick with despair and fury. Everyone turned to look at her.

"His arm is broken. His ribs are gone. And he's still holding that thing back. So what the hell are all of you doing?"

"What?"

"You did nothing back there, and now you're going to stand here like idiots and die too?"

"That's not—Burren is struggling as well right now…"

"No."

Burren stepped in front of Marta and stopped the collateral-line trainee who had spoken.

"She's right. This isn't the time. First squad, forward watch! Second and third squads, left and right flanks. Keep your aura circulating and be ready to move at any moment!"

At his rapid orders, the dazed trainees snapped into motion.

"Marta. Your senses are the sharpest, so take the rear. Hand Runaan over here."

"Hmph."

Marta frowned, but she nodded and passed the unconscious Runaan to a collateral-line trainee.

"From here we pick up the pace! Family support should be coming, so as fast as we can—"

"Wait."

Marta cut Burren off and turned her head toward the dense forest on the right. Burren and the others followed her gaze as if pulled.

A sound like a hard wind brushing through the trees. It could have been nothing. Marta drew her sword anyway, cold sweat on her skin.

"E-everyone back! Run, now—"

She did not finish. The forest collapsed inward, and a green monster more than four meters tall surged up from the wreckage.

An ogre.

The savage monster called the king of the forest opened eyes the color of blood.

"Ah…"

Marta swallowed a dry throat.

I didn't think of it.

The Mad Blood Ogre held an ogre's power and commanded ogres. Of course there would be ogres here.

We… we can't win.

At full strength, maybe. As they were now, even if every one of them piled on, taking down an ogre was impossible. It was as close to annihilation as a situation could get.

"GROOOAAR!"

The ogre bellowed and brought a boulder of a fist down.

"Hyaaah!"

"Hah!"

Marta and Burren leapt in and met it with swords packed full of aura.

"Grrrk."

The ogre saw the aura blooming on both blades and slipped its body aside.

Their swords cut empty air. The instant their strength left them, it lunged again and drove a fist forward.

A violent burst of force exploded, and Marta and Burren were thrown, unable to keep their footing.

"Ghh…"

"Ukh!"

They staggered up, but much of their strength was already gone.

"D-damn it…"

Marta bit her lip. To slip its body in that instant—the thing was a born hunter, a monster even worse than the stories.

"Grrrr."

The ogre licked the thin blood running down its hand and came closer. An open sneer sat on its mouth.

"The rest of you, go first! Marta and I will take this thing and follow!"

Burren clamped his shaking right wrist with his left hand and shouted. It was his turn now.

"B-Burren!"

"Hurry!"

"Nngh…"

Dorian clenched his teeth and started to turn his head. Before he could move, another sound arrived.

A roar like the earth itself being smashed, and a vast shadow fell across them from the left.

A second ogre blocked the trainees' path.

"Ah…"

Marta's pupils shook hard.

So that was why.

That was why the Mad Blood Ogre had been smiling even as they fled. It had already loosed ogres into the surroundings.

"I-it's over."

Someone's voice, thick with despair, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dragged the air down further.

"GRRRR!"

"KRAAAAH!"

The only sounds left were the hungry cries of ogres that had found prey, and the moans of terrified humans.

"Do not fall back."

Burren wiped the blood running from the corner of his mouth and raised his sword.

"Raon is still fighting! If we die here, we don't get to look that bastard in the face—the one holding the Mad Blood Ogre alone!"

He roared and hauled up his aura. A blue wind, strengthened by unshakable will, whipped around him.

"For you, that's a pretty good line."

Marta gave a short, fierce laugh, nodded, and wrapped Titan Aura around her blade.

"We have to go help Raon."

Runaan, who had been unconscious and was now awake, raised her sword as well. Silver frost poured from the steel.

The situation was hopeless. There was no darkness in the three of their eyes.

"GRRR!"

"KUUOOOOH!"

The two ogres seemed to dislike those eyes. They bellowed and kicked off the ground.

In the instant three swordsmen and two monsters were about to collide—

A green wind surged from the heart of the forest.

A dull yellow aura crushed the blue and the crimson and burst them apart.

Raon flew backward through black smoke. He drove his sword into the earth and only then managed to stop.

"Hahk!"

He coughed up blood gone black and dead, his jaw shaking. The left arm he had just repaired was pulverized again, and his side had been torn open. Pain rose from every part of him; he could not even breathe properly.

"Leech."

The Mad Blood Ogre flexed fingers like river stones and came closer. Its swelling presence split his skin.

It smashed the ground and came at him like a cannonball.

"Hup—!"

Raon kicked off the dirt and spun. He slipped the fist by the width of a sheet of paper and fell back.

"Tsk."

He clicked his tongue. The left arm, completely broken and dangling, was in the way. A fraction slower and he would have been caught, and that would have been the end of his breathing.

Cut it off?

For a moment he considered severing the left arm. He would last a little longer that way.

But…

Why was he even doing this here?

His arm had been shattered twice. His side had been ripped open. Muscle and skin were screaming. He was enduring pain he had never known even in his previous life—and he did not understand why he was fighting this monster in this place.

Memories flickered past, from the day he was born until now.

The words of the person he had spent the longest time with, the person who had made him most uncomfortable, the person he was most sorry toward, rose to the surface.

Yes. That was it.

Sylvia's words were what bound him here.

In his previous life, he would have run without a second thought. He would have thrown Burren, Runaan, Marta, the trainees—no, even the villagers—out as bait and slipped this monster.

But Sylvia's words, and the memories of the trainees he had spent his time with, held him in place.

Runaan looked cold and dull, but she was kinder ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠than anyone. A child who had swallowed her own pain alone to save her family from a psychopath of a brother.

Burren had been a petty little schemer, but like a child he had changed quickly, and he had started running toward a goal of his own.

Marta was rough, but her will was outstanding and her convictions were iron. He could not be sure, but she missed her real mother.

The other trainees, too, had shown themselves changing, little by little, from what they had been at the start. To say he had not grown fond of them would have been a lie.

They've changed a lot.

The way they looked at him was so different now, and the way he looked at them had changed as well.

That was why he had stayed.

Because, just as Sylvia had said, he wanted to save the ones who were becoming swordsmen worthy of Zieghart.

It was different from the previous life, when he had killed hundreds and walked dozens of battlefields.

Right now, he was fighting this monster by his own will.

"Ha."

A laugh slipped out.

A sword used not to kill people, but to save them. The feeling was strange.

"Laughing in this situation. You're not normal either."

"Yeah. I didn't think I'd be like this either."

Raon nodded. As he set his stance, Wrath—who had been watching in silence—rose with a twisted expression.

"This King sees it now."

What?

"You intend to hand your body to This King."

…

"You have been stalling for time. Until those children are beyond This King's reach."

So you do have some sense.

"The arrogance of it!"

Wrath's flame surged like stars tearing open the night sky. It was a wrath more vicious than any before.

"Raon Zieghart. There is a limit to how far you may ignore This King. Did you truly believe that in the brief span it would take to kill this thing and find your comrades, you could seize control of your body again?"

I'm not certain. It's only a gamble.

Raon shook his head.

Because it's the only method there is.

There was no way to beat the Mad Blood Ogre as he was. Even if support came quickly, it would take hours.

The only path to surviving this creature and saving everyone was to hand his body to Wrath, kill the thing, and take himself back before he reached the trainees.

"You have already accepted This King's wrath. It will not go as it did before."

I still have to try.

He could not leave his enemy alive and die a dog's death here.

"Do not delude yourself. As you are now, your mind and your stamina are both at the bottom. Your emotions are running wild as well. This King will make you feel it."

Wrath ground his teeth and clung to him.

"GAAAAAH!"

Raon could not hold it in. He screamed. Pain of a different order entirely blackened his skin.

"Th-this is…"

"That is your present state. You might endure This King's possession. But if you surrender your body of your own will, you will never return."

"Hahk…"

Raon's limbs shook. Wrath was right. He had no confidence he could withstand that pain and that shock.

Then how…

"It seems a problem has finally arisen for you as well. Ah. I've had an amusing thought."

The Mad Blood Ogre rolled a massive finger.

"It might be better to kill your comrades first. I wonder what face you'll make when I pluck those children's heads off one by one."

It chuckled and turned. Its thighs swelled as if it meant to split the earth and run.

No.

The trainees would not survive a single blow from the Mad Blood Ogre. A massacre. Everything he had endured would become meaningless.

That, he could not allow.

"Stop."

Raon reset his grip on the broken sword. He clenched his teeth and straightened his back. He drove the Ring of Fire and the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames to their limits and hauled his realm upward.

"Look at me."

He pointed the broken blade at the Mad Blood Ogre. His hand shook. The tip of the sword did not.

It did not ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠matter if Glenn did not acknowledge it. It did not matter if no one else accepted it.

"I am still alive. Until you stop my heart, you cannot leave this place! You mad ghost of Eden!"

A realm and an aura that had been scraping the floor flared and climbed, wrapping the edge of the blade in fire.

"Ha."

A thread of admiration touched the Mad Blood Ogre's yellow eyes.

"That spirit, at that age. 'Impressive' is not enough. Very well. A true martial artist deserves that much respect."

Its aura exploded upward. The muscle it had amplified to run was turned, all of it, toward him.

"Hoo—!"

He had drawn its gaze. He still had no method.

What do I do.

If he did not hand his body to Wrath, the Mad Blood Ogre would kill him.

If he did hand his body to Wrath, the trainees would die, and he might never take his body back for the rest of his life.

Damn it!

Worse and worse. There was no way out.

The Mad Blood Ogre was almost on top of him. He had poured everything into raising his realm and his aura; his legs would not move.

"I will remember your name. Raon Zieghart."

Even as the creature lifted a fist like a boulder to bring it down, he had not decided.

Even so!

He could not die like this. He had things left to do.

Wrath. To you, my body—

"So you have decided at last. This is farewell."

A thread of exhilaration, and some small, unreadable feeling, rose in Wrath's voice.

—I give—

Raon stopped mid-word, eyes flying wide. A scent brushed the bridge of his nose: a kind, cool wind he had known countless times since he was twelve.

"What are you doing! Decide, now!"

I will not give it.

"Damn it all! Why now!"

Listening to Wrath's scream, Raon lowered his sword. He even closed his eyes.

"Die!"

The Mad Blood Ogre brought the raised fist down. The wind pressure tore his skin—but there was no pain. Raon did not open his eyes.

A small wind, like a breeze touching flower petals. He opened his eyes to that sound.

Long red hair, stirring. A broad back wrapped in green wind.

The thin sword in that man's hand had caught the Mad Blood Ogre's fist perfectly.

"You're late."

Raon looked at the man and twisted the corner of his mouth.

"Sorry. I slept in a little."

The red-haired swordsman, Rimer, turned. His face was covered in someone else's blood, and he was smiling.

"Leave the rest to me."