Chapter 758

Chapter 758

“I intended to depart regardless. What’s this?” Rem ground his teeth together and spun around. From every direction, monstrosities with salivating jaws were closing in on the settlement. In a strange sense, it was practical—there was no longer a need to hunt down every beast individually. Even the nomadic-type entities that had been missing for some time were now emerging. Keeaaa—! A harpy, displaying eagle-like plumage and powerful pectoral muscles, beat her wings in the distant sky. She was a wandering predator, known as a servant of Drmul. These creatures led squads of ten, and every member of such a pack was reputed to fire invisible projectiles. Since the commander was a harpy, the entire unit consisted of her kin. Eleven monsters capable of launching condensed, unseen wind blades throughout the duration of the night. Drrrr… Abruptly, the earth beneath them began a subtle shuddering. It mimicked an earthquake, yet the cause was different. It was the vibration—the literal sensation—of heavy objects stampeding forward. It was the specific tremor one learns to identify only through the experience of a soldier on a battlefield. Scanning the horizon, Enkrid identified a pack of rhino beasts, their massive horns protruding from their snouts. These were not mere animals; they were creatures that had triggered hidden evolutions, now storming out of the Demon Realm in search of a feast. Even through the swirling grit and the thumping of the earth, their silhouettes were clearly distinct from common monsters. Based on their chaotic movement, they were likely bickering during the charge—the instinct to fight over the choice cuts of prey was simply their nature. Enkrid had been waiting for this exact moment. Because of that, a grin touched his face. He spoke aloud. “A celebration.” Beside him, the parasite—rather, the demon—widened her eyes in disbelief at his choice of words. A celebration? Was this to be a banquet where they were the main course, sacrificed while he simply looked on? That was a reasonable assumption for anyone. To be sure, the black-haired man had managed to slay a Minotaur—but this scenario was fundamentally different. They were no longer shielded by the Demon God’s grace. The barrier that had once offered them sanctuary had dissolved. Perishing now seemed certain. Those who had once fought tooth and nail just to survive were now destined to breathe in agony and exhale total despair. “Aaaaah!” A villager let out a piercing cry—a sound caught between a terrified shriek and a feral howl. Triggered by that noise, the rest of the locals began to follow suit. Lua Gharne took charge. She strode forward and gripped the screaming man firmly by the throat. “Gkk!” The man’s voice cut off as Lua Gharne, her face contorted with effort, bellowed with a force that threatened to shatter eardrums. “BARTENDER—!” Her volcanic shout yanked everyone’s focus toward her. Even several members of the Mad Order of Knights shifted their gaze in her direction. The impact of her scream was absolute. Cries ceased. Silence took hold. Frokk’s mouth curved open. “Say it again.” Though Lua Gharne was a Frokk, she occasionally identified as a creative soul. She had previously spent time with a traveling theater company. She understood precisely what kind of rhythmic mantra was required for a moment like this. “Demon—” “…What?” “Knight.” In that instant, invisible scythes of air began to rain down from the sky. Shhhhhhhk. The sound was audible, yet the source remained unseen. That invisibility lent the sound a unique brand of horror. Rem nonchalantly swung his heavy axe, parrying the strike. As he shifted, a sharp, shattering noise echoed. Clang! It sounded like a glass sphere being crushed by overwhelming power. “So you want to play the long game from up there?” Rem smirked as he spoke. So the adversaries preferred to hurl attacks from a distance? There was no requirement to prepare a mechanical launcher—known as a “slingstaff” in the continental regions and a “muritmae” in the western lands. Rem’s left hand blurred. To most observers, it looked like a simple twitch. But to someone like Enkrid, whose visual processing could track the most minute movements, the reality was far more complex. Rem snatched the axe hanging at his hip with his left hand and launched it toward the heavens. It moved with even greater velocity than the one he had thrown at Jaxon. The weapon traveled faster than a hawk diving to claim its meal. BOOM! The sound barrier fractured. The blade buried itself squarely in the harpy leader’s cranium. Her head exploded, and the force of the impact propelled her body higher into the air. From the ground, it appeared as though an unseen hand had seized her by the throat and jerked her upward. Then, a dark rain descended from the clouds. Rem stepped back several paces to keep the blood from staining his clothes. The harpy, which possessed the bulk of a bear, slammed into the dirt. Her limbs twitched sporadically for a moment, then went still. “A decent way to get the blood pumping.” Rem grumbled to himself, observing the aftermath. Enkrid had mentally reconstructed every facet of Rem’s execution. His battle intuition—which was nearing a supernatural level—allowed him to understand the mechanics of Rem’s feat. It was a sudden concentration of ritual energy used to bolster muscular output in a flash. He had shifted his stance to create the perfect ballistic path just a heartbeat before the release. It was only a few small adjustments, but it was enough to finalize a mental map aimed directly at the harpy’s leader. Then, he activated the ritual and sent the axe flying. Integrated within the throw were precision-timed Will-based detonations. Finally, he delicately balanced his ritual energy to absorb the kickback from the explosive release of his Will. He had utilized exactly the amount of power required, no more and no less. It was reminiscent of how Lynox from Zaun had demonstrated a use of Will that was devoid of even a hint of waste. Rem had performed it as naturally as breathing. Calling him a freak of nature was an understatement. As Enkrid progressed, these terrifying talents at his side were evolving as well. He believed he could hold his own against them now—but what about in a few months? It was impossible to predict. That was the gulf between a prodigy and the common man. Between the gifted and the fool. Even with a limitless supply of Will, the progress I make is only this much. If one wondered if he felt bitterness toward that fact—he didn’t. It was exhilarating. Truly grand. A surge of electric excitement washed through him. He had experienced this sensation before, yet it felt brand new every time. “This is fantastic.” The words escaped his lips involuntarily. To the nearby villagers, however, he looked like a madman. Claiming things were “fun” while a tide of monsters descended upon them? Was the Demon God currently inhabiting this man’s flesh? Regardless of the truth, everyone realized one thing instinctively—this man was as terrifying as any dark deity. Wait, what had the Frokk yelled earlier? A handful of villagers remembered and began to chant in unison. “Demon—” “Knight!” The volume was low at first. But the intensity surged. Before long, every person in the village was shouting with fervor. “DEMON—!” “KNIGHT!” Hundreds of voices fused into a single roar. There was true strength in that unity. It held more weight than the speech of a single leader—there was raw power in hundreds of people bellowing the same phrase. Enkrid turned his head slightly. He had assumed it was just one of Frokk’s irritating jests. But to Lua Gharne, no title could be more appropriate. “Demon”—it was a name that fit him like a glove. Just look at him, drawing in a Balrog simply by being present. “You really don’t give me a moment’s peace, do you?” Even Shinar moved to the front. “Pell, Rophod, get to work.” Enkrid shouted while he broke into a run, and the two warriors reacted instantly. Roman had finally realized the truth. Even though beasts and monsters were swarming in from every angle—this wasn’t a tragedy in the making. Why? Because everyone standing here… was a monster in their own right. Ragna moved toward the flank, his blade unsheathed. His massive sword shone in the darkness like a sun that defied the moonlight, standing tall against the gloom. Roman, who had just finished being scolded by Rophod, hurried to join him. Dudududu. For the moment, the stampeding rhino beasts represented the most immediate threat. Audin and Teresa moved to intercept. “Let’s knock them back!” Audin yelled. He seized the horns of a charging rhino beast with both hands—and simply tossed the creature aside. How? How could that be physically possible? Not even Oara could have achieved that, even if she were brought back to life. He had always assumed Audin’s gift was divine energy—but the man hadn’t even called upon it. This was a symphony of raw physical power and flawless execution. Beneath Audin’s massive, heavy feet, the soil buckled, carving a wide path. His limbs had turned into unyielding pillars of steel, shoving the charging beast away as if it were a mere toy. BOOM! An explosive crash followed—like a bolt of lightning hitting a stone spire. The noise was so sharp it caused actual pain. The rhino beast tumbled, flattening several smaller monsters beneath its bulk. Next to him, the half-giant woman performed a matching feat. However, she utilized a shield—absorbing the beast’s momentum and redirecting it. Her foot carved a large arc in the dirt, a move designed to divert the force of the impact. Roman, despite lacking a master’s eye, was still a soldier of near-knight rank. He could see how impossible those two actions were. Monsters! The realization screamed in his mind. And now, the most terrifying predator of all stepped into the fray. In the thick of the midnight darkness, his cloak seemed like a void. Roman knew that in the light of day, it was a deep forest green. Flaaaap! As he surged forward, the fabric snapped like a war flag. It had elongated into a trailing, ribbon-like shape, similar to a long scarf. It trailed behind him—a line of ink against the murky shadows. “Assimilation!” He barked a strange command and lashed out with his blade. A ghoul, utilizing camouflage to hide against the scenery, was split down the middle right in front of him. When did he even see it? It was a creature capable of turning invisible. And yet it had been butchered. Dark ichor and organs sprayed across the earth—only to be instantly swallowed by the hungry shadows. “DEMON—!” “KNIGHT!” The chant continued to roll from behind as Frokk kept the villagers focused. The roar seemed to invite a sense of pure insanity. Roman embraced the chaos. As he did, a fire-like passion surged within him—a desperate need to be part of the carnage. It was like dropping a match onto a dry field. “UWOOOOHHH! MAKE WAY FOR ROMAN OF OARA!” Swept up in the adrenaline, Roman drove his greatsword forward with everything he had. CRACK! The skull of a massive troll was caught on the edge of his blade. “UWOOOH!” With a grunt, he wrenched the sword upward. The troll’s head split wide. No matter the speed of its healing—if the brain was exposed, the fight was over. Witness me! I am Roman of Oara! His expression broadcasted his pride. Then, a shadow swept past him, and a steady voice acted like a bucket of cold water on his pride. “Incorrect. You are committing too much energy to the swing. Your joints need to stay loose—apply power at the moment of impact, then relax as you pull back.” “If talking could fix his form, he’d be a master already. Let him be. If he gets himself killed by flailing around, that’s just the way it goes.” A second voice joined in. The first belonged to Rophod. The second, Pell. As they sprinted, Rophod countered. “I am advising him so he stays alive.” “And I am telling you he isn’t listening.” “Perhaps because you have the filth of a dog-faced demon stuffed in your ears. But this boy? He isn’t like you.” “Hey! You’re the one who said vulgar insults make a person sound like trash, remember?” Rophod flinched for a split second. He had ended up sounding exactly like Pell. They had spent too much time in each other’s company. Perhaps he was starting to mirror him. That realization made him even more frustrated. It was time to determine who was the superior warrior. “Whoever secures more kills—” “Deal.” Before Rophod could finish the challenge, Pell agreed. The two veered off in opposite directions. Targets far more lethal than the troll Roman had just killed were everywhere. It was the perfect stage for a contest. Roman could see the threats too. Rustle! A few pebbles bounced off the ground. BOOM! A geyser of dirt and stone exploded upward. A worm! An enormous worm-like horror erupted from the earth—thick enough to crush a bear with a single coil. “That one’s mine!” Pell laid claim to it. He leaped into the air, tucked his body mid-flight, and lashed out with his sword. It was a maneuver Roman wouldn’t even dream of attempting. The worm writhed as its head was split—but Pell didn’t pause. He began to systematically butcher the beast into segments. His relaxed swings were just as lethal and efficient as another man’s life-or-death struggle. A swordsmanship so perfectly practiced that it happens without a single thought. Roman felt the weight of that truth hit him harder than ever before. Near the dying worm, five ghouls rushed forward, drooling as they sprinted. Rophod cut them off. He systematically took their heads, one after the other. The entire sequence appeared so fluid, so inevitable. But upon closer inspection—it was anything but. Like a fly caught in a web. That was the feeling it evoked. He restricted their paths, and when the moment was right, he killed them without a second thought. After that, Roman didn’t have the luxury of watching the others. He had to move—fast. The swarm was becoming dense. It had begun with harpies. Now there were ghouls, dog-faced demons, ogres, trolls, armored skeletons, plague maidens, and venom-spitting horrors… But in reality, it wasn’t such a terrible ordeal. That was his current perspective. What was so difficult about fighting for two nights straight? The villagers who had been chanting “Demon-Knight” had long since returned to their dwellings. Lua Gharne had seen to that—there was no benefit in leaving them in the line of fire. Afterward, Lua Gharne threw herself into the fray. She plugged the holes in the defenses at the village square, commanding the flow of battle. Her tactical approach to the blade, the very foundation of Enkrid’s disciplined style, was just as effective as a tool for leadership. And in this manner, two days drifted past. Roman gazed out across the field of fallen monsters and beasts. It wasn’t an exaggeration. He was staring at a literal mountain of the dead.