Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: Coincidence for the Heroine
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…The World Tree is just a big tree.
『Excerpt from the US-Elf War Surrender Document』
***
Iron Dung Beetle gazed at the survivors with a stoic expression.
The Pig Heads who had spat curses just moments ago now clamped their mouths shut, as if struggling to process the situation, while the branch chief rolled his eyes in a face drained pale as death.
"Fuck, taking out a Shepherd with just two gestures..."
At the branch chief's words serving as a signal, Iron Dung Beetle kicked off the ground. One of the Pig Heads stepped forward upon seeing it and bellowed.
"Protect the agent and flee!"
The guy's eyes glowed red, and the mana laced into his voice churned violently.
Soon, a voice brimming with curses erupted toward Iron Dung Beetle.
"Kyaaak!"
An invisible, formless curse lashed at his body, but Iron Dung Beetle didn't yield an inch. The ground beneath his feet cratered, sending up puffs of dirt, but that was all.
"...Blocked it with his bare body?"
Those were the Pig Head's final words. Iron Dung Beetle lunged at him in a flash, seized his neck, and snapped it.
Crack—a bone-chilling sound rang out, and the Shepherd's body with its broken neck went limp.
Iron Dung Beetle turned his head. The branch chief, who had just been hoisted onto a Shepherd's back, stared at him in stunned disbelief.
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words were necessary.
Ta-at— Iron Dung Beetle kicked off the ground once more. The now-familiar aerial kick. Over the intricacies of the Flying Leg Art, he layered the waves of the Wave Yang Art.
It was a kick akin to a performance test. Ignoring the opponent's caliber entirely, he pushed his mana to its limits, sending waves surging from thigh to toe.
"Dodge!"
The branch chief yelled, but the Pig Head Shepherd had already sized up the power a beat ahead. No escaping it.
Without a second thought, he hurled the branch chief aside and threw his own body forward to block the kick.
"Kuhk!"
The Pig Head's body, struck dead-center by the kick, floated into the air. A moment later, the belated mana shockwave blasted him away.
Boom!
He soared a good distance before smashing into the wrecked van. Even after the impact, momentum lingered—the van tilted and vomited fuel.
Witnessing it, the branch chief let out a groan.
"This mad bastard..."
Behind his dazed mutter, the Shepherds who had just pulled themselves together took stock of the scene. They wheeled around at once and bolted.
Splitting precisely into two directions to escape, it didn't look like blind panic driven by terror.
'Better one survives to call for backup than total wipeout.'
Iron Dung Beetle spared a glance at the branch chief while eyeing the fleeing backs, then gave pursuit.
Whoosh! Unfurling his swift steps, he closed the gap to them in one go.
The first nabbed was the one veering right. He perished with his skull caved in, barely mounting any resistance.
The second got his neck twisted while yanking a pistol, and the third dropped dead right before unleashing his curse.
The last, certain escape was futile, whipped out his cellphone to radio for help.
But before the call connected, Iron Dung Beetle's kick pulverized both the phone and the guy's cranium.
An end too pathetic to credit as the downfall of Shepherds the government had painstakingly cultivated.
Yet their deaths stirred no feeling in Iron Dung Beetle. He brushed the flecks of flesh and blood from his clothes and turned back toward the branch chief.
"You... who the hell sent you? Australia? Japan? Or maybe the Magic Tower?"
The branch chief, half-crouched in a botched attempt to flee, demanded. His shaking hand leveled a gun at Iron Dung Beetle.
"Huh? You're Korean, aren't you? Spill it, you traitorous shit. Why target the government? Money? That it?"
Iron Dung Beetle offered no reply and kept advancing.
Right up to the branch chief. Only when they were close enough for their faces to reflect in each other's pupils did Iron Dung Beetle doff his hat.
"Branch Chief."
"Fuck, you... you look familiar... Guk!"
Iron Dung Beetle clamped onto the branch chief's throat. He fumbled to fire his pistol belatedly, but Iron Dung Beetle seized his wrist first, forcing him to drop it helplessly.
"Branch Chief. You don't recall who I am. No matter. Then, the foreman—remember him?"
The word "foreman" hit, and the branch chief's face contorted visibly. But no words escaped his strangled throat.
"You... kuh... no fucking way... guk..."
"Good. At least you die knowing why."
Iron Dung Beetle bore down with his grip. Or meant to.
The instant he clenched, something streaked from behind his head and smacked his wrist.
'...A pebble?'
Iron Dung Beetle released the branch chief and whipped his gaze toward the projectile's origin.
"Prior guests, it seems."
Far off, atop the bridge, two figures cloaked in poncho raincoats came into view.
The pair leaped from the bridge without pause. Astonishingly, their landing produced not even a faint footfall.
Iron Dung Beetle squinted at the intruders. He scowled on the spot.
Peering from beneath the slightly tilted hoods atop the ponchos were no human faces.
'...Elves?'
Glossy lips, enormous eyes, sharply arched brows, a nose like sculpted marble... and long, pointed ears to boot.
A beauty beyond belief. The very faces of Elves splashed across the news.
The two Elves, now grounded, locked eyes with him, their expressions impassive.
"...The hell are you? Elves moonlighting as mercs in Korea? Doubt it."
Iron Dung Beetle dropped his gaze to the ponchos draping the pair.
Emblazoned atop them: a massive tree cradling a red star.
World Tree Revolutionary Corps.
The commie guerrilla Elves from beyond the portal—reds who even impressed Stalin—under the command of Demerond Ip Marx.
"Human Superhuman. No concern of yours. Our business is with him."
The pale silver-haired Elf jerked her chin at the branch chief. He, still clutched at the throat and choking, wore utter bafflement.
"Business? What kind?"
"Elf affairs. Outsiders needn't know."
"Ah, got it."
Iron Dung Beetle reseized the branch chief's throat. The silver-haired Elf's eyebrow arched sharply at the sight.
"Human Superhuman. Hand him over and beat it while I'm polite."
"Or what?"
"If you crave the bitter draft, won't stop you."
The Elf drew a single sword from within her poncho. Beneath the bridge, lit tenuously by streetlamp glow, the blade gleamed ominously on its own.
Iron Dung Beetle mulled it over briefly amid the overt threat.
Hand the branch chief to these Elves?
No love lost between those red Elves and him—that much was clear. But surrendering his vengeance mark? Another story entirely.
"Intending to kill him?"
Iron Dung Beetle probed on a hunch. Predictably, the Elf shook her head.
"Last time: none of your affair."
Hearing that, Iron Dung Beetle alternated glances between the branch chief thrashing for life and the silver-haired Elf with drawn sword.
He sized up the green-flecked golden-haired Elf lingering behind her, eyeing him with an inscrutable look.
Mana pulsed from both Elves. Plain as day: both Superhumans.
Figures—only then could Elves strut freely through human turf.
'Refuse to hand him over, and it's me versus two Superhumans.'
Absurd happenstance, but when did the world follow scripts? Iron Dung Beetle sighed and crushed down.
"No!"
Crack. The branch chief's body slackened, and the silver-haired Elf flared her eyes wide in fury.
"You dare!"
Iron Dung Beetle flung the corpse at the silver-haired Elf and kicked off.
Why these Elves hunted the branch chief, why here of all spots... not his problem, as she'd said.
Handle his business, then bail.
Ta-at!
Flying Leg Art laced with Wave Yang Art essence propelled his body into rapid acceleration.
"You bastard!!"
The Elf pursued at Superhuman velocity, but Iron Dung Beetle held the edge in speed.
As their gap yawned past dozens of paces, the trailing golden-haired Elf called out.
"Rion! Grab him!"
Grab? How? Iron Dung Beetle's thought was interrupted as an unseen force in midair seized his body.
'What the—?'
A colossal hand-shaped qi construct had him. Invisible to sight, but mana made it crystal clear.
Squeeze—the phantom grip bore down hard.
Iron Dung Beetle mobilized his internal mana without delay. Waves per Wave Yang Art essence coursed through his muscles, repelling the invisible hand.
In the sliver of leeway to twitch a single hand, he hammered a fist at it.
Boom!
A thudding strike resounded; the pressure eased. Iron Dung Beetle threaded through the fingers and broke free.
Touching down, he found the silver-haired Elf already nose-to-nose. A beat of silence hung between them.
Iron Dung Beetle struck first this time.
Thwack!
His leg rocketed out at blinding speed for her head. She arched her waist fluidly and whipped her sword.
Swoosh!
Their exchange ignited with the mutual air-slicing strikes, bodies entwining.
His kick probed her legs; her blade speared his waist. Fist thrust met her recoiling sword slicing at his shoulder. Any distance play drew her hounding every lapse.
Her sword knew no start nor finish. Straight lines one instant, sinuous arcs the next—assaults unceasing.
Sheathe and posture? Suddenly, she exploited a gap anew.
'So this is Superhuman swordplay.'
Human or Elf, limbs be damned—mana-infused sinews defied all bounds.
Slack but a heartbeat, and steel found vitals.
Iron Dung Beetle marveled, unwittingly tracing the blade's dance with his eyes. First the forms' trajectories, then the mana's pulse.
'Supple, yet resilient. Tree roots, exactly.'
His mana, once waving to Wave Yang Art rhythm, now echoed the Elf's sword flow.
Epiphany. Enlightenment.
An ineffable rush suffused him. Blade paths, wielding muscles, underpinning mana—all alien, all exquisite.
Iron Dung Beetle channeled the fleeting insight into action. Swordless, he fisted a hand blade.
Swiik!
The inaugural slash was crude. Allowed her steel a bite into his left forearm.
Yet Iron Dung Beetle trusted his regeneration. Wound ignored, he loosed the next.
The second carved air with bite.
Third forced her evade; fourth parried blade with palm.
Fifth threaded the infinitesimal rift in her swordplay.
It grazed mere poncho fringe—ample. Wave Yang Art surges shredded the garment.
Riiip-rip-rip!
"Hng?!"
Her gale of sword winds stalled. The silver-haired Elf aborted her push, recoiling.
Her face twisted down at the tatters.
Iron Dung Beetle held distance and spoke.
"Your sword style—what's its name?"
"..."
"Nameless? Damn impressive."
Taken as taunt? Her eyes narrowed to slits anew as she reset her grip.
Hilt hoisted ear-high: fresh stance. Mana roiling portentously—this her earnest art.
Iron Dung Beetle tensed instinctively when a voice cut from behind.
Too sword-smitten; he'd blanked on the other foe.
"Lellin! Pin him with light!"
The golden-haired Elf, spying their parting, invoked once more.
Unlike prior, this spell shone plain.
Flash!
A colossal blaze erupted point-blank before Iron Dung Beetle. His optic nerves seized; vision blacked.
Brief gasp. Vast opening.
Ta-at!
The silver-haired Elf pounced on the instant.
Fatal blunder.
Blinded like him, she lacked his compensatory sense.
His mana attunement, freakishly acute, tracked her blind.
Through light-forged dark, Iron Dung Beetle thrust both hands.
Pshk—her blade impaled his left. Sword mana clashed hand mana; blood sprayed.
But that locked her motion.
Iron Dung Beetle reared his right grandly. Waves crested shoulder to knuckle.
Wave Yang Art in palm: Panyang Fist.
Whoooosh!
Air convulsed; winds howled.
She belatedly surged her blade, but his Panyang Fist kissed her solar plexus.
!
Pre-impact, mana pummeled her frame. Her body lofted airborne.
Thump!
Vision cleared simultaneous to her plummeting.
"Kuhk!"
Backlash rocked her; bile-flecked drool spewed from her lips.
"Ugh... urp... eurk...."
Iron Dung Beetle wrenched the sword free from his left, clutched it right-handed, and closed on her.
"Comrade Rime! No! Rion! Lallen! Protect Rime—"
The golden-haired Elf, catching on late, began a chant—but Iron Dung Beetle's blade at the silver-haired Elf's throat edged her out.
"Halt. Chant, and she dies."
* * *