The Cursed Tribe and the Warrior Who Dreamed of Salvation
He stopped the carriage first. Then, looking at Adelin, who was naturally preparing to join the fight, he said,
"You stay out of it and focus on protecting Raysilla."
"……."
Adelin hesitated for a moment at his command, but soon nodded silently and began reinforcing the diamond barrier around the carriage, making it thicker and more solid.
Once he confirmed Raysilla's safety was fully assured, he threw open the carriage door and stepped out.
Selina and Heria, already gripping their twin daggers, flanked him on either side.
Daren seemed to have perfectly grasped that Adelin and Raysilla would sit out the battle. He approached slowly, exuding a formidable aura, accompanied by two warriors who were strong enough to match Selina and Heria.
"Daren…."
There was no hesitation in his stride. Seeing that, Kail was certain the earlier attack hadn't been some trivial misunderstanding or accident.
⋯ Damn it.
He stepped forward alongside the two women at his sides.
Eventually, when the distance between them shrank to just a meter or so, they halted simultaneously. The killing intent pouring from them clashed tensely in the air, locked in a standoff.
He broke the silence first.
"I'd already talked it over with Selina and Adelin Aynis… I figured I'd have a serious chat with you too, and if you really needed help, I'd lend a hand."
He forced down the bitterness rising in him, staring at Daren with a blank expression. "But… it looks like you're not interested."
"Forget interested or not—that's ridiculous, Kail."
"What is?"
"That the word 'forgiveness' could even apply to the traitors who threw you to the bottom."
"… Urk!"
Selina, seething with raw anger and betrayal at the blatant mockery, flinched as if struck to the core. Her cat ears drooped flat in the same instant.
⋯ Can't she control those ears herself?No, not the time to worry about that.
He kept his sunken gaze fixed on Daren's eyes and continued. "That's entirely my call. You don't get a say."
Shring—!
He drew his sword.
As he focused his will, dazzling white flames—the White Purification—began raging fiercely along the blade.
He aimed the tip at Daren's throat and asked one final time. "Anyway, no interest in talking it out, then, you worst of criminals?"
Instead of answering, Daren simply clenched his fists tight. A ripple of battle aura surged over them.
"Got it."
"Yeah, none at all. Fake hero Kail, continent's greatest sinner."
With those short words, boom—!
The real battle began.
Most people would bet on the swordsman over a martial artist. And that's undeniable fact.
Low- or mid-tier aura users without perfected aura might struggle against a grappler in close quarters. But skilled swordsmen shred them before they close in, or blast them back with sword beams to block approach entirely.
Even if a martial artist dodges all that and forces a clinch, the fundamental reach difference can't be overcome—so martial artists lose to swordsmen.
That formula should hold for all martial artists. Except one: Daren, the great warrior and former hero party member.
Kwaaaang—!
The first clash of White Purification and battle aura. The shockwave was so overwhelming that the four others locked in fierce combat nearby momentarily lost balance.
They both staggered back several meters, brushing dirt from their legs as they exchanged glances.
"You're way stronger than two years ago. That power you gained from all those wars… no, massacres?"
He sneered first, and Daren planted his feet firmly, assuming stance as he replied.
"Fake hero Kail. You've grown incomparably in strength and balance too. To go toe-to-toe with me."
Even in a situation where death could come any second, they let out short, hollow laughs as if by agreement.
"I've always thought you were too cocky."
"That's my line. Climbing that high on holy power deadly to demons, then acting like it's your own skill? Not a pretty sight."
"… Annoying."
With that, they charged without hesitation.
Kwaang—!
Second clash.
This time, he was utterly outmatched in the struggle, his body flung back, carving a long gouge in the dirt. The sharp pain shooting up his wrist reminded him head-on clashes were a bad idea.
"Always doing your size justice."
Third strike incoming.
He compressed the thickly wrapped White Purification into a thin, razor edge. Instead of meeting Daren's massive aura-wreathed fist head-on, he let it glance off the flat of his blade with fluid grace.
Srrip.
Daren's huge frame lurched forward, defenses cracking for a split second—he whipped his sword lightly, slicing deep into the barbarian's right forearm.
"Kuh…! Your swordsmanship's improved a ton."
"I used to swing nothing but this thing."
Boom—! Kwa-gang!! Kwagagak!!
Relentless exchanges followed without respite, blood spraying everywhere. On the thirteenth clash, he couldn't hold back the boiling rage anymore and roared.
"Why the hell!! You lived with more pride than anyone—why betray me, betray humanity!!"
Daren's bloodshot eyes bulged as he bellowed back. "Kail, you'd never understand even if I told you!! But if you wanna know, subdue me completely!!"
Kwaaaaang—!
His desperate, almost pleading shout rang out as pristine white flames met crimson aura once more.
Meanwhile, unlike the increasingly brutal duel between the two men, Selina and Heria's fights were winding down.
Daren's two escorts were top elites of the Diben tribe, brimming with overwhelming skill and experience. But they couldn't bridge the gap against a prodigy hailed as the continent's youngest swordmaster-to-be and a former hero party member's innate talent.
Thud, crash!
"Urk!!"
"Gahk…!!"
The two warriors were finally crushed, collapsing bloodied to the ground.
But even with their battles over, Selina and Heria didn't rush to Kail's aid. Instead, they focused on securing the perimeter, ensuring the two men could have their "body talk" uninterrupted.
"Come any closer, and we slaughter every last one."
Heria warned the approaching Diben tribesmen, her killing intent flaring. Selina gripped her silver daggers, unleashing beastkin ferocity.
"Great warrior…."
"Damn it."
They stamped in frustration but couldn't advance a step.
Kwaaaaang!! Kwakak!!
Already the twenty-fourth clash.
"Kuhuk!"
"Gahk!!"
He and Daren spat blood in unison, as if by pact, and leaped back to gain distance.
His throat burned, breath scorching up to his chin. Damn, shoulda chugged a fatigue potion.
His channels still hadn't fully recovered from overexerting in Adelin's mental world. Daren too bore unhealed mortal wounds from his recent clash with imperial knights.
"Haa… ha."
"Hoo, hoo…."
They glared, heaving ragged breaths. Instinct whispered: the next blow would end this grueling fight.
He forced his trembling, exhausted legs to steady, igniting White Purification as he took stance. Likewise, Daren—preparing the strike that had meaningfully wounded the Demon King two years ago in their final battle—spoke first in a low voice.
"I'll say it now. If you don't attack with killing intent, Kail… you'll die."
Crimson aura churned wildly around his fists, ready to erupt. He wiped blood from his lips and shot back.
"Don't worry. I'll cut you clean in two."
"Music to my ears."
"Hope you said goodbye to your tribesmen."
The words barely left their mouths before they kicked off simultaneously. Their final struggle began, every ounce of remaining strength poured into severing the other's lifeline.
Kwaaaaaang—!
The instant sword met fist, a shockwave dwarfing all before exploded outward.
Crimson aura bored ferociously into his White Purification, threatening to devour it—but he gritted his teeth and held. His White Purification, pushed beyond limits twice before by slashing curse sources like the Blood Creation Lord,
Ultimately engulfed Daren's aura and pressed forward. Puk! Srrip—!
His blade carved deep from Daren's right shoulder across the chest, neatly slicing to the left flank.
"Ga… hhk…!"
Thud.
Spewing blood like a fountain, the mountain of a man finally lost balance and crumpled.
The battle ended.
"Hahk, heuk…."
He panted raggedly over the blood pool, gazing down at the fallen man. The former hero party's shield heaved his chest, bereft even of resistance.
Staring at the pathetic remnants of past glory, he asked. "You can talk now, right?"
Blood dripped from his sword tip—plip, plip.
"Why the hell did you do something so idiotic?"