Chapter 300

‘Damn bastard, making a scene at the very end.’

A body tempered by spirit embodiment and techniques perfected through decades of experience—

The Madman of Immortality was no pushover.

It wasn’t until part of his skull was crushed that he finally gripped his spear and charged.

Bleeding profusely, he stubbornly closed the distance. He came within striking range.

“You think—me, ME!—would go down so easily?!”

Rem, inwardly, was impressed. Yeah, this is how it should’ve been from the start.

What followed was a bloodbath. Literally.

A short spear pierced through his thermal hide and stabbed his thigh.

Thankfully, he twisted his leg to avoid the worst. Otherwise, he’d be limping for life.

In return, he took two of the bastard’s fingers with his axe.

It was lucky he even got those. He’d aimed for the wrist.

It was unfortunate—but a fight was a fight.

Rem was exhilarated. Ecstatic.

It had been a while since he faced a worthy opponent.

Someone who displayed strength rivaling giants even after destroying his own heart of monstrous strength.

And he did so continuously, thanks to spirit embodiment.

“No shamanism—and yet how?!”

The Madman was shocked again and again. The first was when Rem revealed the heart of monstrous strength.

“Tricks!”

He kept sputtering. It meant he was genuinely stunned.

Rem matched his tone.

“Hey, you’re the last person who should say that.”

Tricks, huh?

Rem had shards of strengthening spells in him. But this guy was using full-on hybrid techniques with shamanic augmentation and still had the nerve to cry trickery?

How rich.

“Motherless bastard!”

Rem got mad.

“My mother died a hundred years ago!”

“Yeah, so you ARE motherless, huh.”

The Madman snapped back.

They shouted and fought, both furious.

Rem felt his life at risk multiple times. It wasn’t just his opponent—it was the damn beasts too.

‘Growl!’

The stinking monsters wouldn’t quit lunging at him.

They circled, waited, then lunged with fangs bared.

Eventually, one clamped down on his arm. And in that opening, the Madman drove both spears down with full force.

Rem, still stuck with the wolf, swung his axe.

He slammed it into one of the descending spears mid-arc, disrupting its trajectory.

Even so, one of the spears scraped deeply across his side.

The pain brought tears to his eyes and made every hair on his body stand on end.

It hit right where his ribs had already broken.

The Madman had concentrated his strength into just one of the two spears, and Rem had failed to block it—but he didn’t stop.

Still holding the axe, he crushed the wolf’s skull with his free hand and deflected the next spear with fluid movements.

No time to breathe. He moved like a madman.

And then—something sticky snagged his foot.

‘Oh, come on.’

Sticky trap sorcery. He’s pulling that crap now?

Old foxes are the trickiest, they say—and this one was proving it true.

Among prey, the wily ones are always the worst.

Rem powered up his thighs. Trap spell or not, it must’ve been spread over a limited area.

‘Boom!’

He kicked off the ground and leapt sideways, swinging his axe.

He killed three beasts that had targeted him.

Specifically, he cleaved through the neck and chest of two, and crushed the skull of the third.

Rem expected the brawl to continue—

But here, he was both disappointed and handed the victory.

Because the Madman retreated. He pulled back. He jumped back.

The attacks that followed were weak, feeble.

Even the spears thrown with thread—again with that trick.

‘Ah, this bastard.’

His battle high instantly vanished.

‘Thud!’

Rem knocked away the incoming spear with the flat of his axe, watching his fellow tribesman retreat.

The spear twirled back to him like a flying toy.

The bastard yelled:

“Next time, I’ll definitely kill you!”

‘Pfft. Who’s really gonna die next time, huh? You or me?’

Rem slammed his axe vertically into the charging beast’s head.

‘CRACK!’

The axe split its skull and body clean in half.

“Shit, I get it. You probably survived this long by running when things went sideways.”

Should he chase and kill him? Maybe. But that felt like a chore. The thrill was gone.

Rem was just annoyed and unmotivated now.

But to the Wolf Bishop—it was a whole different story.

“Hey! Where are you going!”

He was so shocked he couldn’t even hide it. His wolfish eyes were wide with panic.

Even Teresa could see it clearly.

His jaw dropped in disbelief, causing the barely-sealed head wound to reopen.

Dark blood streamed down his cheek and dripped off his chin.

There was no response.

The Madman fled.

Not even a “sorry.” Though even if he had apologized, Teresa’s blood pressure would’ve spiked high enough to blow her head off.

“Brother Bishop, it’s time to go.”

The bishop frowned at the term, turning around—

To find the limping half-giant.

Her shield was half-broken, her sword cracked down the middle.

“You heretic bitch. I’ll curse you even in death.”

The Wolf Bishop spat curses. He was bitter.

It had been a winnable fight. Even if the opponent was tough, he’d brought the Madman of Immortality, himself—a bishop of the cult—and even his soul-bound Dire Wolf.

And yet, this was the result.

He should’ve crushed Teresa easily.

But no—it all fell apart.

Instead of sighing or looking to the sky, he muttered with final spite,

“Fucking bastards.”

He’d felt the death of his Dire Wolf, soul-bound as they were.

There was no hope left.

“I’ll curse you all for the rest of my life. Your flesh will rot, and you won’t even die easily. The god of the Demon Realm will never forgive you! Madman, you too—I will curse you as well!”

His final hate was aimed at his supposed comrade.

The one who should’ve stayed and fought. The one who ran.

“Yes. Do enjoy your swim in the River of Hell. I’ll see you there.”

“Gladly!”

Teresa finally crushed his head.

The pommel of her broken sword delivered the finishing blow.

As she adjusted her blood-smeared mask and stood, she saw Rem limping toward her.

“You came?”

“Of course I did. Where else would I go? Where’s the Captain?”

There was no heartwarming scene of leaning on each other. They simply trudged along.

Neither was in good shape, but neither was near death either.

No need for silly support.

A wild horse trotted up beside them.

“You fought too?”

‘Neigh!’

Rem pouted at the one-eyed horse’s snort.

“Even the damn horse fights, but people run away.”

Still full of complaints. He’d been all fired up, and now it was ruined. A rare mood-kill.

Especially since the opponent had been from the same tribe and still had the advantage.

‘I’ll see you next time, old man.’

Rem made a promise.

And there were those who had witnessed the whole battle.

The heavy infantry and cavalry.

The mercenary leading the cavalry realized something clearly:

‘Never mess with them.’

Never complain that drills are too hard.

If you charge them, you’re dead. Simple.

He now saw even the calm-looking giant woman in a different light.

He hadn’t underestimated her before—but now, his entire view changed.

Before, people would’ve recoiled from Rem and Teresa’s battle.

That was common. Their power was just overwhelming. Inhuman.

Even allies found them terrifying.

But this time, it was different.

They both limped. The horse looked like the only one in decent shape.

If not for those two, they might’ve been annihilated.

Relief, joy, euphoria, victory—all sorts of feelings swelled together.

“Madman Platoon!”

“Rem, Rem of the Axe!”

“Rem the Mad Axe!”

“He’s alive!”

“He’s not dead!”

“Immortal Rem?”

A mutter became a nickname. As Rem scratched his ear—

What the hell was that?

The soldiers chanted in unison.

“Immortal Rem!”

They thought he was dead, but he came back and drove the enemy off.

From “that hot-headed bastard Rem”—a huge upgrade in title.

“Immortal Rem! The undying Rem!”

“The undying madman!”

“Uwaaahhh!”

Most of the monsters were already slain. This had been the most favorable battlefield.

And without the Dire Wolf or the bishop, the remaining monsters scattered.

Without a center, they never stayed grouped.

The men cheered as they moved toward the center of the field.

“So damn noisy.”

Rem kept scratching his ears.

“Wandering Teresa!”

The soldiers chanted the name Teresa always used to introduce herself.

She held her mask with one hand and raised the other.

She felt like doing it. It came from the heart.

Back in the cult, she used to go a week without saying a word.

But not anymore.

“I am Wandering Teresa.”

It was different here. She had changed. After tasting joy and happiness, everything looked different.

“Wandering Teresa!”

Her once-solitary mutter became a chorus.

It sounded good.

“What’re you doing, huh? Immortal Rem!”

Rem got jealous and barked.

And of course, the soldiers followed up—

“Immortal Rem!”

So childish. Anyway, where they headed—Encrid, Ragna, and Audin were there.

Ragna looked relatively fine. Audin, not so much.

His body was covered in scrapes. His left arm hung limp. Was it broken?

“I sprained it. Can’t go all out just to take down a single dog. Got hit a lot instead.”

“Yeah, just grazed me. I was being respectful to the elderly.”

Teresa stayed silent.

Ragna, watching blankly, opened his mouth.

“You’re all so weak. Babysitting this crew is a pain, Captain.”

“…Shit, why did I even keep him alive again?”

Rem grumbled, while Audin smiled and clenched his fist.

“Looks like you’re eager to return to the Lord’s embrace, brother.”

Encrid swept his hair back.

All nonsense. Then he looked at Rem and spoke.

“Try wandering off a little less.”

“What, why? Did everything go to shit without me?”

“Weren’t you the one who got wrecked?”

“I was just being nice to an old man.”

“Right.”

“What’s with that tone? And why’d everything end the moment I came back? I was ready to have some fun.”

With that body? Encrid’s face said it all. Blank expression, but the meaning was clear. Rem yelled.

“You don’t know me? I’m just getting started! Don’t you know who I am?!”

As he threw his hand back, a few quick-witted officers raised their voices.

“Immortal Rem!”

The rest joined in.

“Immortal Rem!”

Oh god, now he’s really enjoying this.

Encrid let out a dry chuckle and shook his head.

“The enemy lines are acting strange.”

Graham’s adjutant said. Encrid answered without looking.

“It’s one of my men’s doing.”

“That’s…?”

No need to explain. It was Jaxson.

He could’ve killed Viscount Tarnin long ago, but he waited.

When would killing him be most effective?

Jaxson was clever.

Killing the enemy commander didn’t mean the battle ended instantly.

There were still many left.

Several were elite mercenaries.

Compared to Encrid and the Madman Platoon, sure—but from a normal perspective, these were top-tier troops.

They thought:

‘We’ve got the moral high ground.’

Just keep Viscount Tarnin alive and withdraw.

Then they’d hold the upper hand and keep their threat level.

Some even knew of Azpen’s involvement.

Let the Border Guard clash with Azpen. Later, they’d spark a new territorial war.

Face the depleted Border Guard at their own pace.

The clever ones had made up their minds. They moved to find Tarnin.

But Tarnin’s head was already mounted on a pike.

“…When the hell did that pig die?”

A clever mercenary was dumbfounded.

And out of luck.

Jaxson hadn’t even needed magical relics to suppress his presence.

He just disguised himself in enemy uniforms and walked around.

He identified anyone rallying troops and gave them a special “gift.”

That mercenary got the same.

A uniquely designed dagger—blunt on the outside, razor-sharp inside.

All it took was a quick pull across the neck.

Seven down already.

It was enough. Jaxson slipped away.

He doubted the captain would’ve died in his absence.

He returned as if nothing had happened—and saw Encrid, plus a “ghost.”

“A ghost? Shall I perform a quick exorcism? Maybe a few daggers would do.”

“…Why does that alley cat sound like he’s talking about me?”

The ghost barbarian replied. Jaxson firmly insisted on another exorcism, but it didn’t stick.

Instead, he only heard a blessed reply from the madman with the axe.

“You die first, get outta here and drop dead.”

Ignored. He’d done his job, and the captain was fine.

“I really thought I’d die this time.”

Krys said. Encrid casually looked at the wide-eyed soldier.

Krys, sleep-deprived for days, smiled.

“Guess I’m lucky. The goddess must’ve kissed me.”

The kiss of a goddess brings fortune, they say.

As Krys spoke, snow began to fall heavily above him.

It had started just as the battle ended. The sleet turned into thick flakes.

“You actually like this?”

Rem grumbled. The devil’s dandruff was falling like crazy.

Jaxson and Audin looked just as annoyed.

But Encrid wasn’t.

He understood immediately.

“See? The captain’s smart as hell.”

Krys said. Rem muttered about gouging his eyeballs later—but it was a minor scuffle.

Snow poured down.

Even the fiercest soldiers had to pull back and reorganize.

In other words—

“We bought time.”

Krys spoke what was in everyone’s heart.

The snowfall was a blessing that would hold Azpen’s movement.

Time to heal, regroup, and ready for what came next.