Chapter 719

Chapter 719

Up to this point, Enkrid had been using pure mental fortitude to forcibly suppress and preserve his Will—a feat that had resulted in severe cognitive exhaustion. His mind felt heavy, as if clogged by thick sediment.

Managing an overflow of Will is significantly less grueling than the act of restraining and regulating it. It is the fundamental difference between rolling a boulder and carrying it; the latter inherently demands a higher price.

Enkrid was currently paying that debt. His physical form, much like his psyche, felt tainted by a lingering gloom. Having spent the duration of the storm fighting while simultaneously bottlenecking his internal power, he was far from his peak condition.

Nevertheless, he pushed forward.

Kyak!

A handful of creatures attempted to intercept their advance, but he demolished their skulls with Penna. Beside him, Ragna operated his massive blade with relentless efficiency.

The greatsword, devoid of unnecessary flair or decorative movement, sank deep into the torso of an owlbear—a perfectly executed thrust. Despite the inherent weight of his chosen discipline, Ragna’s raw aptitude was enough to stun even the most seasoned masters of traditional combat.

‘He is truly incredible.’

Enkrid kept a close eye on Ragna. The man operated on pure gut feeling and reflex, yet those very instincts unfailingly guided him toward the most advantageous outcomes.

It was genuine genius.

That owlbear, for instance, had clearly anticipated Ragna’s move. Its posture gave it away. It belonged to that rare class of beasts whose survival instincts were so heightened they functioned as a substitute for magical abilities.

‘Exceptional individuals exist among monsters, just as they do among men.’

The owlbear hadn’t tried to mask its presence; instead, it had made itself known to prepare for Ragna’s incoming swing.

When the window for action is narrow and choices must be made in a heartbeat, most people fall back on their habits. The owlbear expected Ragna to swing. Relying on its intuition, it moved to counter a slash—but Ragna thrust instead. There wasn’t a flicker of doubt in the motion.

This wasn’t a desperate mid-air adjustment. He had committed to this specific path from the very start.

That single tactical choice had cornered the beast. Usually, even a mortally wounded monster would attempt to retaliate, hoping to tear flesh or blind its killer in its final moments.

The creature’s outstretched claws were sharp with the energy of a dying animal. Had Ragna opted for a horizontal strike, those talons might have found their mark.

‘Of course, he probably would have evaded it regardless.’

But this result was simply more efficient.

The skewered owlbear was driven backward until it collapsed. With its midsection ruined, Ragna delivered a secondary blow that pulverized its head.

“What made you choose a thrust?”

“It just felt right.”

The reply was absurd.

‘It’s no wonder Heskal was defeated.’

Heskal had always projected the image that his power came from deceptive blade work, but that was a misconception. His true strength lay in his ability to weave intricate webs of feints—complex, multi-layered strategies disguised as simple movements.

He utilized layers of deception, turning even his fake openings into traps. Once a foe entered his mental arena, they were like an insect caught in silk—struggling until the end.

But how could that work against someone like Ragna?

Ragna didn’t play games; he simply forced his opponents into inescapable positions. His greatsword followed through with the inevitability of fate. That was the essence of his combat.

Reflecting on it, Enkrid realized the very foundations of the Wavebreaker Sword Style were rooted in Ragna’s methodology.

The methods differed, but the conclusion was the same. One used logic to trap the enemy; the other used pure talent. Ragna possessed an innate knowledge of where his blade needed to be, as if he were traversing a path only he could see.

It was a divine gift. A natural prodigy.

Unlike the chaotic, improvisational nature of Rem, Ragna’s talent was something entirely unique.

“You’re a freak.”

Enkrid whispered the word, though his pace never slackened. Ragna kept his gaze partially averted. With their Will being a finite resource, it was vital to avoid looking directly at Medusa.

However, at Enkrid’s remark, Ragna tilted his head up. It was a slight waste of energy, but he couldn’t let the comment slide.

“I should say the same to you. Being put in the same category as Rem is an insult, Captain.”

He spoke with deliberate clarity before returning his gaze to the ground.

“Are you looking for a fight?”

“I’m being serious.”

Enkrid let out a small laugh and kept his perceptions sharp.

A stray survivor from the hunter-village loosed a pair of arrows from the flank before scurrying away. Enkrid snatched them out of the air with ease.

The projectiles lacked weight. Without the infusion of Will, standard archery held no danger for him.

When Leona Lockfried had first arrived in the territory, he had required intense, narrow focus just to avoid thrown knives. Now, he could intercept arrows with casual indifference.

His vision, coordination, power, and reaction speeds had all progressed significantly since those days.

They pressed onward, closing the gap with Medusa. The atmospheric weight grew more oppressive with every yard gained.

The Demon Realm was home to an endless sea of horrors. Among them, only the most devastating entities were granted names.

Like the Balrog. Like Medusa.

Sssaaaaarrrgh!

High above, the serpent-constructs crowning Medusa’s head emitted the same jarring screech as the Scalers.

‘This is becoming precarious.’

They had maintained their momentum thus far, but a prolonged engagement would spell the end for Zaun. The math was simple.

Regardless of their individual prowess, if the remaining horde swarmed the stronghold of Zaun, it would be impossible to intercept every threat.

‘Even if the leadership and those of us here survive, what is left of Zaun if its people are gone?’

A realm without its inhabitants is a hollow shell.

Consequently, any entity capable of shifting the tides of the entire war had to be eliminated immediately. Even a man without a tactical mind would reach that same conclusion given the stakes.

Enkrid evaluated the distance to Medusa and thought back to the demon he had previously executed.

‘The One-Killer possessed lethality in the slightest touch.’

Medusa, however, operated on a different set of principles.

Even as two elite warriors bore down on her, this legendary horror of the Demon Realm did nothing but emit her petrifying miasma.

‘An attrition battle.’

That was Medusa’s specialty. The plating across her frame appeared incredibly durable, and her jagged, moss-stained mouth was undoubtedly a font of poison. He could also see the tip of a tail swaying behind her.

‘A creature designed for endurance.’

The ultimate counter to a knight.

Her presence choked the field of battle. Her stamina seemed bottomless. Those who attempted a swift victory would likely find themselves smothered instead. She was a nightmare for warriors who relied on explosive, short-duration combat.

Naturally, Enkrid was capable of shifting his approach. He could play her game.

‘If I turn this into a slow hunt, I will win.’

If he spent several days slowly dismantling her, he could kill her. She possessed the ability to regrow her hair and certain limbs, but that pool of energy was not infinite. He could resist the stone curse and dance around her physical strikes. Then, when she finally faltered, he could deliver the killing blow.

He didn’t need to engage her to see the outcome; his intuition laid out that future clearly. It would take three days at most.

But no one else had that luxury. Such a fight required a massive reservoir of Will, physical stamina, and mental grit.

More importantly, winning that way still meant losing the war. In those three days, Riley’s strength would fail. Anahera and Kato would fall. The secondary gate guarding Zaun would be shattered. Even if the primary walls remained, a breach from the rear would make it all moot.

Success without the preservation of Zaun was a total failure.

“Ragna.”

“I’m here.”

“We’re ending this with a single strike.”

He didn’t need to elaborate on the mechanics of the plan. They would coordinate in the moment. However, their roles were established.

“Clear the way for me.”

Enkrid couldn’t ask Ragna to deliver the finishing blow—not with the injury to his shoulder.

Ragna offered no verbal reply. He simply hoisted his massive sword, pointing the steel toward the darkened clouds.

BOOOM!

A bolt of lightning tore through the sky. A blinding white flash illuminated the world.

Zaun was situated in a basin—a dangerous spot during a lightning storm, but a magnificent backdrop for a final stand.

Enkrid watched the display and steadied his breathing, returning the Tri-Iron Sword to its sheath. He could no longer hold back.

“Two swordsmen, moving forward.”

Ragna repeated the sentiment.

“Two swordsmen, moving forward.”

They intended to slay the nightmare of the Demon Realm in one coordinated motion. Unlike the encounter with the One-Killer, a mistake here would be fatal.

Was it a reckless play? Perhaps.

But if they stayed their hand, the body count would only rise. This was a high-stakes play. A true roll of the dice.

And that was exactly why…

‘This is exhilarating.’

A sense of profound joy bubbled up within Enkrid. It acted as a solvent, dissolving the exhaustion in his muscles and the fog in his mind.

A furnace roared to life within his chest—a heat so intense it felt as though it could turn the falling rain to steam. The fire replaced his fatigue with a searing, vibrant power.

He was prepared.

Ragna moved into a lead position, shielding Enkrid as they began their sprint.

With every stride, Ragna felt the crushing aura of the demon. It felt like trying to run through a mire. And Medusa was not undefended.

The moment he committed to the charge, two Scalers closed in from his sides like shadows. Ragna swung his blade in a wide, sweeping arc—bisecting both creatures at the waist.

Splatter!

Dark ichor sprayed into the air as he increased his speed.

TONK!

He propelled himself into the air. Enkrid stayed right on his heels.

Ragna was still internally amused that the captain had called him a monster. Who was he to make such a claim?

‘Neither of my parents truly understood him.’

He thought back to the time Enkrid had accidentally trimmed his hair during a bath. That particular duel had a definitive victor. It had been a serious exchange. No one else in the territory had ever pushed Enkrid as hard as he had.

There was a stark contrast between Enkrid in a training hall and Enkrid on a field of slaughter. Ragna recognized the difference.

‘When he truly commits…’

The man would leave him behind. Back in the Fairy Forest, Ragna had strained himself to appear as an equal, but in a life-or-death struggle, he knew he would lose now.

And he relished that fact.

The thunder, the torrential rain, the presence of Medusa—none of it mattered. A surge of adrenaline flooded his system. Ambition woke up. His Will flared. He wanted to witness it.

What would his captain reveal to him?

The man who once seemed like a complaining squad leader had now transcended those limits. Genius? Inborn talent? Those words were meaningless. Here was a man who had pushed past the boundaries of those definitions and still hungered for more.

“Have you reached the next level?”

He posed the question internally. He didn’t need an audible reply. If it were Enkrid, the answer was obviously yes. He was a craftsman—taking the clay of his past self, tempering it in the fires of the present, and molding a vessel for the future.

What kind of masterpiece would he become? Ragna was desperate to see.

Ragna’s movements were precise and tranquil. He struck down everything in his path with an eerie certainty.

WHUANG!

Once they reached a specific threshold, Medusa’s tail whipped across the terrain and lunged forward.

CRACKKKK!

The very ground trembled. The tail, armored in razor-sharp scales, came screaming toward him.

‘I cannot evade this.’

It wasn’t a thought born of logic, but of pure combat intuition. If he leaped, the tail would simply adjust its trajectory. He couldn’t dodge—he had to take the hit.

If he focused on blocking, he would lose his offensive momentum. But there was no room for hesitation. His gut told him to stand his ground.

He drove his greatsword into the mud to anchor himself.

BAM!

The impact felt as though a mountain had collapsed onto him. But the assault wasn’t finished. The serrated edge of a scale sliced through his gauntlet and bit into his hand.

Rrrip—

The leather gave way. Blood flowed from the wound, though his wrist remained unbroken.

Medusa’s tail began to coil, rising upward. At its very end, a wicked, needle-like spike emerged—like a hidden blade finally revealed.

If he retracted his sword now, the tail would whip forward and send him flying backward. He would burn through his Will and energy just trying to bridge the gap again. That was exactly what the demon intended.

However, if he stayed put, he would be skewered. The stinger was aimed directly at his forehead.

Evasion meant death. Stasis meant death. Where was the third option? What was the solution?

Once again, Ragna’s instincts provided the answer.

He reached behind him, his fingers brushing against Enkrid’s backup blade—Penna. He seized the hilt and swung it in a violent arc.

It was a basic movement, but it was saturated with a terrifying amount of compressed Will. Just as he had done when he ended Heskal’s life.

Will Conversion.

He pulled it off. In training, he only succeeded sixty percent of the time. Now, Penna erupted with a brilliant, blue-white radiance.

CRRRAKKKK!

As the blade connected, the tip of Medusa’s tail was sheared off—sent spinning into the air, still thrashing as if possessed by a life of its own. The hidden weapon had been neutralized.

And then—

The moment arrived.

Medusa’s head loomed high above—so tall that it would take several men standing on each other to reach her eye line. But as her tail recoiled in pain, it formed a temporary set of stairs.

Ragna recognized the opportunity. He knew the captain would, too. He didn’t need to speak, just as he hadn’t needed to ask for Penna.

He dropped his center of gravity, bracing himself. Enkrid used Ragna’s shoulder as a springboard and launched himself upward.

The contact was light—almost weightless.

Despite the lack of apparent force, Enkrid shot upward faster than a projectile, sprinting up the length of Medusa’s massive form.

BOOOOM!

A stray bolt of lightning crashed into the earth nearby. A roar of thunder drowned out every other sound on the battlefield.