Chapter 130
Chapter 130
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 130
Chapter Title: The Passing Sword
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A-Rank Demonus truly lived up to its name as a disaster.
The two-day respite wasn't due to any hesitation from the Demonus after witnessing the prowess of the major powers' hunters in the first battle.
They had been biding their time.
Waiting for a chance to land a decisive blow.
"Damn it... why do they keep coming!"
Slash. Shwick.
No matter how many they cut down, the horde of monsters showed no signs of thinning.
How much time had passed?
It felt like they'd been fighting nonstop for at least three hours already.
The corpses piled up so high they tripped underfoot.
Yet the monsters still swarming in looked like they'd require another four hours of relentless combat before the end was in sight.
"This place is hell."
"Damn it."
If there was such a thing as a hellish afterlife, this had to be it.
Their breaths came ragged to the brink of choking.
At this rate, they'd drop dead before wiping out all the monsters.
"We need to retreat."
The thought of pulling back from a monster wave without a single demon in sight stung their pride.
This sector was handled by the Russia-Canada-Brazil-France alliance—the lowest-ranked in contributions—and it boasted over four hundred A-Rank hunters.
Four times the high-rank hunters in other zones.
Yet here they were, forced to retreat because of mere monsters, not demons. It grated on them.
But what could they do?
The orders from their nations were clear: minimize casualties.
"Retreat!"
"Fall back!!"
The alliance leaders barked the command in their respective languages.
Pride wounded and tempers frayed, they seized on their nations' orders as justification for a dignified withdrawal.
The leaders' commands slowly turned the tide of the brutal melee.
High-rank hunters fell back step by step to regroup, while the monsters pressed the advantage, surging forward with savage fury.
Even with retreat decided, the alliance leaders scowled at the grueling situation.
"Eleven percent contribution gets us this? Spain and Korea must be insane."
"They might've been wiped out already. If it's this bad here, it'll be worse there."
"Especially Korea—they've only got about twenty people. They probably retreated ages ago."
"Or maybe all the monsters headed our way instead, leaving us to suffer."
The leaders piled up their mental gymnastics to cope with the retreat.
"If we keep this up, we'll take casualties during the pullback."
"We've secured the fallback line. Let's step in—we need to create distance between the monsters and the hunters."
"Agreed. Time to carry out our nations' orders."
Even amid retreat, knowing their peers faced the same plight brought faint smiles to the leaders' faces.
Then, true to their roles, they summoned potent mana and charged toward the frontline clash of hunters and monsters.
"Russia and Brazil take left. Canada and I'll handle right."
The leaders nodded at the French leader's call.
Channeling their mana, they prepared powerful skills to widen the gap.
"Now!"
"Hit 'em!"
The French leader's shout rang out again.
On cue, all leaders unleashed their pent-up skills in a massive barrage.
But just as they did—
"...!?"
A chilling aura hit them, and they yanked back their outstretched hands in alarm.
Then the spectacle unfolded before their eyes.
Skreeeeeeeeee!
A deafening tear through the air, followed by a ferocious gust that shoved monsters and leaders alike sideways.
The ground flipped in its wake.
Kaboooom!
Crashing earth split the monsters' ranks in an instant.
No telling how many it'd killed with that sheer power.
A massive fissure yawned across the ground, cleaving through like a deliberate rift.
"Wh-what the hell..."
"What... just went by?"
"No idea! Looked like a sword? France—you guys?"
"Wasn't us! Brazil?"
"Not us."
"What kind of skill is that?! Who threw a sword?!"
Shock was fleeting.
The leaders realized this wasn't the time to argue over who'd cast it.
The French leader snapped to first, bellowing loudly.
"Now! This is our shot—one skill to cover the retreat!"
"Push!"
"Explode!"
"Fire Wall!"
A devastating line of force crushed and severed the monsters' formation.
Every beast facing the hunters crumpled helplessly under the leaders' ferocious counterattack.
Less than a quarter remained beyond the fissure, sealing the doom of the horde against the retreating alliance.
"Retreat!"
They glanced at the monsters stamping futilely outside the boundary, unable to cross.
With that final glance, the alliance hunters straightened their lines and withdrew.
Around the same time the alliance retreated...
True to form for the team led by the world's top S-Rank, the War God, Spain had reached the end of their monster wave.
Drenched in blood, heaving ragged breaths that blurred their vision, the Spanish team put a bullet through the last monster's neck.
"Hah... hah..."
Thud.
Most of the team collapsed onto the blood-soaked ground.
They ignored the filth.
If they didn't rest now, they'd drop dead.
"War God, what's the plan?"
The Vigor Guild's vice-master approached.
Even he, veteran of over a decade of battles, looked worn from today's fight.
"You look beat."
"Guess I'm getting old. Feels like I'm dying."
"Can't blame you."
The War God's gaze swept over the mountain of monster corpses.
"How many times has this been?"
"You mean the Demonus op?"
"Yeah."
"Fourth."
"First time they've swarmed like this, right? Like they were sucked in."
"That's why I feel half-dead."
Vice-Master Margino shook his head.
When was the last time the Iron Guard himself complained like this?
The scratches etched deep into Margino's sturdy shield told the tale of the grueling battle.
"What now?"
Margino's words carried an undercurrent.
Longtime comrade, the War God caught the implication.
"We retreat when the next wave hits."
Another wave incoming.
That was the unspoken worry: more enemies on the way.
"Figured as much."
No team, no matter how strong, was infinite.
Stamina had limits, power had bounds.
Another fight here meant casualties.
The War God nodded at Margino's point.
"Fall back and regroup."
"Grab a few mana stones on the way out, then."
Margino turned to prepare.
That's when it happened.
Thump! Whoosh.
The War God seized Margino's slumping shoulder as he moved to clean up.
Margino's eyes widened, yanked back like a ragdoll.
Screeeeeeeeeee!
Just as his gaze reached the War God.
The War God's hand thrust forward, his form vanishing from the spot.
"Huh?"
Whooooosh.
Shock barely registered before a brutal wind slammed into Margino.
He shielded his face with both arms against the sandstorm gale.
The blast shook his body but lasted only a heartbeat.
"War God!"
As the wind died, Margino bolted to the fallen War God.
A mere five blinks of the eye.
In that instant, the War God lay sprawled ten meters away.
"War God!"
Vigor Guild and Spanish team members rushed over.
They knelt to check him.
Whoosh.
Defying their worry, the War God sat up fit as ever.
Margino shook his shoulder.
"What happened?!"
But the War God's eyes weren't on him.
Staring where he'd fallen, he raised a hand, palm out to Margino.
"What...? That wound."
The War God was injured.
What had happened?
What could wound him and vanish in that split second?
As shock rippled through, the War God scowled.
"Got away."
"What? You were trying to grab something?"
Shaking his head, the War God rose and pointed ahead.
"That's where the Korean team is, right?"
"Since when do you, the directionally challenged, nail positions like that?"
Relief at his unharmed state prompted Margino's half-joking remark.
The team and guild burst into laughter.
All except the War God himself.
"Damn, just as I suspected."
"What's wrong?"
No one hurt, crisis averted.
Yet the War God's grim expression lingered, unnerving the others.
"Something happen?"
"Remember Damon?"
"Damon?"
The Spanish team pondered briefly before it clicked.
"That researcher who messed with the marquis-level demon's artifact and turned demonic?"
"Why bring up that psycho now...?"
The War God grimaced fiercely.
"Just got a direct call from the GHO director. That artifact that turned Damon? It escaped the lab."
"...What? Wait, why are you telling us this...?"
Margino's face darkened sharply.
"Exactly what you think. That sword that passed—crimson blade. Identical to Damon's."
"This is insane..."
Demonus op already stretched them thin.
Now a marquis-level demon artifact crashing the party?
"What do we do?"
The gravity sank in.
Margino pressed for orders.
The War God focused, decision made.
He shouted to all.
"Everyone, retreat. Ditch the mana stones."
"What about that thing?"
"I'll check it out."
"Alone? If Hunter Yong-un falls like Damon, then what?"
The War God smiled at Margino.
"Didn't I mention? Yong-un already handled that sword once."
"...What?"
"Who do you think stopped corrupted Damon?"
"Wasn't that you and Sword Dragon?"
"Heh, who said that? I never did."
"Then who...?"
A sly grin tugged the War God's lips as aura leaked unwittingly.
"Not us—Yong-un..."
He was about to spill the not-so-secret secret.
As all eyes locked on him.
Post-battle silence shattered with an impossible sound.
Squelch.
"G-gaaahhh!"
A scream pierced with a gruesome impaling noise.
Chill dread gripped the War God and every Spaniard.
Slash. Splatter.
"What the hell?!"
The sounds resumed without mercy.
Sword driven in and yanked out, blood spraying.
"G-guh..."
A groan followed.
The War God's eyes bulged; he kicked off the ground.
Boom!
A rear-line team member exploded with mana, hurled backward.
Gripping a sword slick with fresh blood.
"What are you doing?!"
The War God roared in fury.
He reached out.
Tap.
The stabbed teammate, clutching his back as blood poured, slumped into the War God's grasp.
Splatter splatter.
The wound was mortal.
Blood gushed unchecked from the gash.
The teammate crumpled, crimson flooding everywhere.
The War God gnashed his teeth.
"I-I don't know... S-suddenly my body just..."
Another teammate trembled under the War God's wrathful glare.
No excuse—the bloodied sword in his hand spoke volumes.
Yet he shook like it wasn't him.
Clatter clatter.
"I swear I don't know!"
The attacker screamed, charging the War God.
Blood dripped from his blade—no longer just monster ichor.
Red human blood sprayed as he swung high-to-low in a vicious arc.
Clang!
But against the War God.
Team or not, unforgivable.
His fist shattered not the man, but the sword.
A kick to the gut knocked the deranged teammate out cold.
Thud. Thump.
Battle fatigue madness, he thought—a brief lapse.
He was gravely mistaken.
As the fallen man hit the dirt, that eerie sound echoed from multiple spots.
"Guhk!"
"G-gaaahhh!"
"Why!!!! Aaaargh!"
The War God's head whipped around slowly, eyes wide.
Teammates suddenly wielding swords at each other.
"Snap out of it!"
"D-dodge! My b-body... it won't obey! Please, get away!"
"Uwaaaaaah!"
What in the world was happening?
Asura field unfolding, the War God stared blankly.
Flutter flutter.
In the chaos, blind to the flow.
A faint glint in the War God's eyes—dark gray snowflakes drifting on the wind.
"War God!!! Dodge!!!"
His focus shattered on a voice.
The snowflakes parted, revealing the source.
His family-like comrade of over a decade, through countless battles.
Margino, shield raised in distress, charged murderously.
"Dodge!!!"