The Milestone the Full Moon Points To - 3
It was pure chance.
Bern had stumbled upon a man carrying wolf pups in both hands — the result of following a faint wash of moonlight through fog so thick he couldn't see an inch ahead.
"Wh-what? Why are a human and an elf in a place like this…?"
"Kiiing! Kiiing!"
While the man panicked, Bern calmly took stock of the situation. The thick scent of blood. The damp, glistening eyes of the wolf pups. The hexagram badge pinned to the man's chest — the emblem of the Magic Tower.
"The Magic Tower?"
Marianne reacted first. Bern said nothing. He simply smirked.
He's laughing?
Seeing Bern's snicker, the man composed his face, buried his emotions, and stepped forward with forced confidence.
"That's right! I am a high-ranking auditor of the Magic Tower! I don't know why a human-elf pair would be in a place like this, but if you don't want to see something ugly——"
"You Magic Tower bastards always talk too much."
"Huh…?"
Bern walked casually past him. In his hand was a magic sword — drawn so smoothly no one had seen him draw it. The man realized too late that his eyes hadn't been able to track the motion. He tried to whip around, but it was already impossible. His head was spinning through the air, severed from his body.
Bern caught the falling head and peered into its face. Pure shock and terror. He smiled again and left a brief review.
"Sorry, but I'm already on bad terms with the Magic Tower."
If you asked ten people what power came second only to the Holden Kingdom, eight would name the Magic Tower. Making an enemy of that Tower? Only a madman would even consider it. But the overwhelming force and confidence Bern had just displayed planted a seed of doubt in the man — a fleeting Could it be…? That suspicion was the last thought before his consciousness faded.
The headless body crumpled lifelessly to the ground. And with that, the captive wolf pups were free. The moment their paws hit the dirt, they scrambled straight to Bern.
"Kiiwoong!"
"Kiiing!"
They scratched at his legs with their little paws, whining pitifully. Bern didn't need a translator to guess what they meant.
"There's more of you further in?"
If only the pups had been kidnapped, they would have bolted straight to their parents the moment they were free. Instead they circled Bern, pleading desperately for something. Something must have happened to the parent wolves as well.
"Alright. Lead me to your den."
"Awooo!"
The pups scampered into the fog on their short little legs, yipping as they went so Bern wouldn't lose track of them. As they drew closer to the site of the slaughter, Bern held his breath. His Nocturnal Instinct — which activated without fail every night — fed him a stream of information. One piece stood out: an enemy waited beyond the fog. A powerful one that could not be underestimated.
"Stop."
"Pardon?"
"From here on, I go alone. The rest of you wait here."
"Will you be all right?"
"Yeah. Honestly, I'd rather have no one around."
Frach, gripped in Bern's hand, trembled with excitement — agreeing with every word.
"I'll be back."
"Please, be careful……"
With Marianne's farewell at his back, Bern walked into the denser fog. His vision was blocked, but he walked straight toward the place his instincts indicated. Sensing the enemy was close enough, he tossed the head of the man he'd already dealt with.
A hearty laugh rang out from beyond the fog.
Yeah, this one's not normal either.
Bern gripped Frach and drew up his mana. The runes on Frach flickered, and black magical energy rose from his body. As if on cue, the fog thinned and moonlight spilled across the ravine. Two figures stood facing each other.
Time passed. Greg was the first to break the silence — and even that was more of a grumble. Having roughly gauged Bern's level, he let out a heavy sigh. This was a difficult opponent. Calculating escape odds made more sense than victory odds. But even that wasn't certain. The moment he turned his back, he sensed a sword would take his head.
"No choice but to fight ready to die…!"
Psshk.
A crossbow bolt hidden beneath Greg's wrist fired. The stealthily launched arrow streaked straight for Bern's throat. Bern's casually swung sword blocked it — but Greg hadn't expected much from it anyway. What mattered was forcing the opponent to block or dodge. Seizing the fleeting opening that brief action created, Greg brought his heavy bareberd crashing down.
Normally the distance would have been too great — but the halberd's shaft elongated, stretching all the way to where Bern stood. The weapon was an artifact. From the crossbow to the artifact, Greg held nothing back. He'd judged this an opponent who would not forgive a single moment of carelessness. And indeed, Bern couldn't end it in a single decisive strike.
"So every attack was meaningless after all."
"Nice try. The try part, at least."
Bern had even deflected the halberd. He shook his sword as if dusting it off, then kicked off the ground. Sensing the counterattack had begun, Greg shifted into a defensive stance.
Clang!
It started with a downward strike, just like a bareberd blow. Greg blocked with the mithril shaft — but the ground beneath him cratered.
"Wh-what kind of power is this…!"
"I'm not done yet."
Bern stepped one leg back and spun in place. Using the rotational momentum, he swept a horizontal slash at Greg's neck —
Skreek!
Greg yanked the dagger from his belt and barely managed to block. The experience that had carried him to S-rank was diligently keeping him alive. Even so, he was being overwhelmed in every category — speed, power, weapon mastery. His improvisational ability might have edged slightly ahead, but a single skill wasn't enough to flip the tide of battle.
This ravine might become my grave.
The skill gap was already clear — and now the overwhelming difference in weapon quality was showing too. A mithril bareberd artifact should have been more than enough. That had been an arrogant, foolish delusion. His opponent wielded an unsettling black blade — a dangerous weapon that corroded ordinary steel with a single clash. Greg tossed the now-useless dagger to the ground.
This guy is a monster completely outside any expected parameters. Those damn Magic Tower bastards…!
A dangerous individual, and a weapon that might well be forbidden. Cold sweat ran down Greg's face, but he forced a bitter smile. Tightening his grip on the bareberd, he roared.
"UOOOOOH!"
He'd hoped for even a flicker of reaction — Bern didn't so much as flinch. Greg charged with everything he had left. Strong and elegant, starting simple but ending with a deceptive flourish — he swung the bareberd in a strike perfected by the blood of countless magical beasts.
It still won't be enough to truly reach him……
He clung to the small hope of at least leaving more than a scratch. Reality was crushing. Bern neither parried with his sword nor dodged. With a calloused hand, he casually grabbed the axe blade of the bareberd.
If the hand had been crushed, or even torn and bleeding, Greg could have accepted it. Looking at that perfectly unharmed hand, he sank into despair. He'd already known there was a gap in skill. What he hadn't known was how vast that gap truly was. So he had challenged it — and now he understood with absolute clarity.
A realm beyond the human. Naturally, the S-rank designation humans had invented didn't apply here.
"Done showing off?"
"Ha…! Haha, uhahaha! So my full power was nothing more than a cute little performance……"
"Want me to pretend to be impressed?"
"I'll pass. It would only make this more pathetic."
Bern nodded and raised his sword properly. Jet-black energy bloomed from the blade. To Greg, aside from the hideous color, it was a power he'd seen before.
Sword aura…
If Bern had shown sword aura from the start, Greg never would have been so reckless. He felt a twinge of resentment — but complaining to an absolute powerhouse would only earn him a more horrific death. Only two options remained: surrender or flee. Greg, who loathed bowing his head to anyone, had already made his choice.
"Sorry, but I have no intention of dying quietly."
Before Bern could unleash the sword aura, Greg pulled a round capsule from his pocket. Faint light leaked from the tiny seams. A staple for adventurers — a capsule containing flash bugs. On impact, the bugs would flood a hundred-meter radius with blinding light before dying. Perfect for emergency escapes; every renowned adventurer carried one.
"What a cheap trick."
"I'll take that as a compliment on my preparedness."
"What an absurd guy."
Bern withdrew the sword aura. Even though he could have cut through the intense light itself, he went so far as to sheathe his sword.
"What's your angle? Planning to let me go?"
"Dream on. Look behind you."
"Behind…?"
He sensed nothing behind him. But Bern's warning accelerated his anxiety. If Bern had a companion, they could approach from behind with their presence completely erased. Dark imaginings flashed through his mind, and Greg whipped around.
"Wha——ghk!"
The moment he turned, a jet-black blade erupted through his chest from behind. Bern's magic sword.
"He actually turned around."
"Y-you bastard!"
"Isn't the guy who turns his back on an enemy the one at fault?"
"You have overwhelming skill — how can you resort to such a cowardly trick?!"
"Being cunning beats being a dumbass who only knows how to swing hard, doesn't it?"
"You lowlife……"
Before Greg could finish his last words, Bern bisected his body.
"Don't yap in front of me. Go make peace with the wolves you killed in hell — and fuck them while you're at it."
Bern flicked the blood from his sword and smiled wickedly. He was a man who had handed justice over to Chaos long ago.
"You're about to lecture me again, aren't you?"
"Yeah? Then what?"
As Greg had noted, Bern had grown stronger and crossed into a realm beyond the human. But his nature had been inhuman from the very beginning.