Chapter 406

Krys decided reinforcements needed to be dispatched, and that they didn’t necessarily have to be a large-scale support force.

‘Is there a lack of supplies?’

No.

The Royal Army wouldn’t have charged in without proper preparations.

Then could the Beacon of Reversal be lit with numbers alone?

He didn’t know.

It was hard to predict. Count Molsen’s movements were unreadable.

Naturally so.

Count Molsen had prepared something that mixed magic and sorcery, and he was in the midst of painting a picture of blood across the battlefield.

Even so, Krys expected the enemy to unveil something unforeseen.

His mind, which always imagined the worst possibilities, shone again.

So it was obvious what kind of reinforcements had to be sent—the fastest and strongest force.

It was always the few with extraordinary power who overturned the tide of a battlefield.

Audin, Sinar, and Teresa.

Krys provided two sturdy, swift horses for each of the three.

That was why Audin and Sinar were here.

—

Encrid took a step back as Audin gently gripped his shoulder and pulled him. There was no reason to resist.

“Well, just watch. I watched earlier too.”

Watching Audin step forward, Rem clashed the weapons in both hands with a clang.

In his right hand was the long-handled axe he usually used, and in his left was a shorter-handled hammer he’d picked up from somewhere.

Encrid knew Rem wasn’t picky about weapons. It was safe to say Rem was in top condition, too.

“Do we just have to cut that?”

Ragna said, dragging the tip of his sword along the ground.

Whatever he’d done, the edge was completely gone. It was practically a serrated sword.

Even so, in Ragna’s hand, it was terrifying. Even a wooden sword would be threatening in his grasp.

Especially today.

The will to cut down anything that tried to stop him was unmistakable.

Audin, who had pulled Encrid back, smiled.

“Father, those who will rebuke you are here.”

Translated directly, it meant he would kill them soon and send them away.

Audin’s two fists were the perfect tools for sending whoever stood before him to his God’s side.

He wore leather gauntlets on both hands, each stitch seeming to have been sewn by hand. The workmanship was solid and sturdy.

The material looked like demon beast leather. Encrid’s eye was accurate.

To be exact, they were made from centaur leather.

Tanning and processing it took time, but it was tough and durable.

Krys had ordered them made, then carefully packed and sent them.

Idly curious, Encrid asked,

“Leather gauntlets? Who made them?”

“There’s an excellent seamster in the unit. I don’t know his name, but his sewing is superb. He used to be a squad leader, but now he’s a supply officer. Brother.”

Someone came to mind.

“Doesn’t he have a red nose? From drinking so much.”

“How did you know?”

The tension between the five Fiends and this group was still palpable, but Encrid spoke and Audin answered as if it were fine.

Of course, Audin’s gaze never left the front—more precisely, it was fixed on the largest Fiend among the five.

‘I owe him a favor.’

He was the one who’d made leather greaves and gauntlets back when Encrid repeated the first today. In the meantime, his skills had improved significantly.

He’d said he was working as a supply officer in the Border Guards. That alone meant his sewing had been recognized.

And Encrid had heard Krys handled supply matters. Krys wouldn’t use just anyone.

This was proof enough of the man’s ability.

“Fiancé, who bullied you? Point them out.”

Beside Audin, Sinar’s elven joke was the same as ever. She looked cold and intellectual, her tone flat, yet what she said was endlessly light.

“The guy who bullied me is already gone.”

Encrid pointed to the sky.

“You sent him to God. Well done.”

Was there anyone besides Audin who praised killing like a priest?

Not everyone who believed in the God of War was like that, of course.

Without the slightest smile, Sinar drew her sword and spoke.

“There’s a half-wit defiling elven blood.”

She was right.

One of the five was an elf.

Rem was quietly stunned. It was the one he’d met not long ago—the one who’d fled even after being cut apart.

He never thought she’d survive. Even if she had, he didn’t expect her to be standing there so perfectly fine.

He’d clearly split her torso with his axe and spilled her insides, yet there she was, moving as though nothing had happened.

Dark red blood dotted the roughly sewn seams, but the fact she was alive and moving at all was astonishing.

He was sure he’d killed her.

Sinar stepped forward with her Leaf Blade.

As a result, Rem, Ragna, Audin, and Sinar blocked Encrid’s path.

Jaxson was still standing in the same spot… no, he had already vanished. He’d hidden himself.

The moment Encrid realized that—

Jaxson appeared beside the Count. A rapier like a skewer shot straight for the Count’s head.

It was an attack no one anticipated. The blade pierced the Count’s head cleanly, but Jaxson didn’t get what he wanted.

Clang!

The rapier bounced off as if it had struck a lump of iron.

Jaxson’s eyes widened. It was resistance he couldn’t believe came from human skin.

But staying still would be a prayer for death, so the instant he stabbed, Jaxson threw himself backward.

A black claw appeared where he’d been and swept past.

If it so much as scratched him, he wouldn’t come away unscathed. The claw was something magical, brimming with ominousness.

Jaxson knew what had blocked his sword wasn’t a defensive spell or anything of the sort.

He’d already checked, with his senses, whether any spell had been cast and aimed accordingly.

In other words, the Count’s skin was simply that tough.

“Did you transplant Fiends into your body too?”

Jaxson delivered the information to everyone through his question.

He meant the Count’s skin was as tough as a Fiend’s.

“A mayfly-like bastard.”

The Count spoke on, waving a hand. Black claws continued to toy with Jaxson.

Jaxson sank out of sight and reappeared five steps away, but the claws chased him without end.

At the same time, those not related by blood—yet still Lierbart’s brothers and sisters—charged in.

At their head was the elf Rem had half-killed.

“Ughhhhh!”

She clawed at her head and ran. She moved in a semicircle, bypassing the front, yet even running sideways like that, she was terrifyingly fast.

To Encrid, she looked faster than Lierbart.

And that was the truth.

If Lierbart had rushed in using only his physical abilities, without considering anything else, he could have taken on that same form.

But he hadn’t.

His desire as a human and his honor as a knight were his final shackles.

He wanted to become a true knight.

That was why he didn’t fight like a beast.

What would have happened if he’d cast everything aside and rushed in with nothing but his body?

The answer was right here.

Before Encrid could even blink, the enemy vanished from his sight.

Just as he thought he’d lost her, his right cheek stung. Something cut through the wind and struck—an attack that fully exploited speed.

Encrid recognized it, but there was no need for him to respond.

An elf had been muttering something since earlier.

The words she’d spoken before the opponent ran reached Encrid’s ears as well.

“A tribe of the forest who have lost their pride.”

It wasn’t a joke. It was a sincere blade.

Leaf Blade met Leaf Blade.

Clang!

Green light flashed as the two swords collided.

The opponent recoiled from the impact, and Sinar stepped back two paces as well. The two faced each other, holding distance for a moment.

They were similar swords. One was a true Leaf Blade, while the other was merely shaped as one—tangled, bulging veins from the back of the hand wrapped around the blade.

“I can’t even call you the same race.”

Sinar rebuked her, and the opposing elf answered, as though she hadn’t entirely lost her reason.

“What are you saying, you bitch.”

It wasn’t pleasant to hear.

A faint smile touched Sinar’s lips, the kind that sent goosebumps crawling over anyone watching.

“To use such abusive language in front of my fiancé.”

With that, Sinar raised her Leaf Blade.

Just a single exchange had already revealed the difference. Strength and speed were different, and even the bodies behind them were different.

Still, Sinar didn’t consider her a knight.

She was merely a Fiend struggling to stand on the same level.

Sinar had seen elven knights before.

They deserved respect by their very nature—beings worthy of it.

You couldn’t become a knight just by tearing your body apart and stitching it back together.

So she had to cut her down, to liberate that ignorant, foolish elven soul.

“I will tell the forest and the flowers.”

Sinar lifted her sword as she spoke. It was strange—though it was the same Leaf Blade, it felt as if the blade carried the scent of grass.

“The time is spring, and spring is a season that is more vibrant than ever.”

Sinar continued her chant.

Her secret technique manifested by absorbing the essence of the forest.

It was the same as when she’d given Encrid such trouble in a spar before.

She could confuse an opponent with attacks from multiple clones, and she could also inflict physical damage with that essence.

Of course, that wasn’t all.

Those were just tricks.

She gathered the essence of the forest into a spirit and heard its answer.

Sinar drew the essence into her body.

It was an elven secret art, long forgotten because no one could perform it anymore.

By taking the essence into herself, she briefly stepped into a world similar to her opponent’s.

The mutated elf’s sword flew in. The Leaf Blade called ‘Age’, its blade shaped like a leaf, came right up to her nose.

Sinar had saved the essence she’d accumulated for this moment, and she answered with a speed close to her opponent’s.

Clang!

It didn’t stop at a single strike. From below, she twisted the sword that was coming down from above and knocked it aside.

Her blade took on a faint green tint.

Leaf Blade Age changed through the ‘Season’ technique.

The sword in her hand now was spring.

Spring Age was livelier than ever, releasing essence. The shape didn’t change, but the power contained within did.

From then on, Sinar’s movements resembled a dance. If you stripped away the parries, cuts, thrusts, and breaks, it would have been nothing but a dance.

And as she crushed and struck down the opponent’s blade one by one, she cut down the elven Chimera trying to reach a knight’s level.

—

Watching Sinar begin her fight, Audin spoke.

“It’s late, so as a penalty, I’ll take care of the two of them.”

The moment he finished, the remaining guards moved as well.

Like the mutated elf, they ran. And the others were faster than Lierbart, too.

Of course, that wasn’t enough to trouble Audin—or the two standing at his sides.

Hearing Audin, Ragna extended his sword.

‘Faster and stronger.’

What could he do for that?

[Will]. An intangible force settled in his arm. He layered [Will] over his intent to cut and mixed it into his limbs. He recognized how [Will] moved, and willed it to move that way.

That was the answer Ragna had found.

It was power that would scatter in two breaths, but that was enough.

For a moment, Ragna manifested a knight’s sword.

More precisely, it was the sword Azpen’s knight had shown him.

It was simply fast and sharp.

Ragna did the same.

He took a half step forward with his left foot, shortened the line of movement as much as possible, and added rotation from ankle to waist, loading the power of the Heavy Sword style. It was a preparatory motion.

Compared to the one charging in, Ragna’s motion of raising his sword and shifting posture was far slower.

From the outside, it looked like he’d be pierced by a fingernail—his heart, or a piece of his organs, torn out as he knocked on heaven’s gate.

If you had the dynamic vision to see it, that is.

Ragna’s sword accelerated in an instant.

The line it drew was far faster than the opponent’s rush.

Before speed and power too great to follow, the flimsy tower built on false steps collapsed without resistance.

Whoosh, crack!

It was truly instantaneous.

The one who’d rushed in was split cleanly and fell to left and right.

Rem, busy trading blows with axe and hammer, saw it too.

‘That crazy bastard.’

‘Isn’t he running even wilder than before?’

Rem was facing one of the chargers—a truly formidable Fiend—yet he didn’t hesitate.

He drew out what he’d gained while hunting the Immortal Madman.

In the west, Rem’s homeland, there was no word for [Will]. The concept itself didn’t exist.

But there was a way to refine and elevate the mind.

What you gained through that was called sorcery.

For Rem’s tribe, sorcery was one of the weapons you had to possess to become a warrior.

Their inherited weapons came from it as well.

“Look straight, you bastard.”

Rem snapped at Ragna, then split a totem with just the index finger and thumb of the hand holding his hammer.

The totem was a small doll, about two fingers thick. Its effect was simple.

It made the sorcery of lightning development dwell within the caster’s body.

Next, Rem pulled out an amulet, crumpled it without hesitation, and stuffed it into his mouth.

This one granted the arm of a bear.

Two kinds of sorcery altered the power dwelling in his arms and limbs.

It wasn’t originally his sorcery, nor something he’d forged through prayer. It was a trick—one that let him borrow sorcery for a short time.

That trick made Rem faster than before and packed strength into his muscles.

His opponent charged in, gripping a thick sword with both hands.

He was the type who’d dodged Rem’s attacks over and over, convinced he could evade anything Rem did.

But Rem’s axe, which had been busy blocking like when Encrid faced Lierbart, swung from an angle it never had before.

It rose from below and fell like lightning.

Bang!

The opponent blocked, but was driven back. The impact sent a shock through his whole body, and he stumbled away of his own accord.

Even ordinary sorcery struggled to produce this kind of power. This was possible only because it was Rem.

He had a natural talent for sorcery that surpassed his talent for simply handling his body.

He drove in with the hammer, and the axe—after confusing the opponent’s hands with feints—finally extended and split the Chimera’s head.

Thud!

The tough skull cracked straight down the middle.

Bones, skin, and Fiend blood held it together, but the contents—including the eyeballs—spilled out around the half-split head.

Rem lowered his arms.

‘There’ll be some aftereffects from this.’

It was inevitable—the price of borrowing and using someone else’s sorcery.

His eyes turned to the last two.

On the surface, Audin looked as though he were barely holding on, but no one interfered.

He’d said he would handle the two of them, so he had to take responsibility.

Rem thought Audin was an unlucky fanatic.

Even so, he was a man who kept his word.

(T/N : Is this the first time we see Rem use actual sorcery? Maybe we’ll get a Rem backstory after this arc?)