Chapter 759

Chapter 759

For forty-eight hours without pause, a chaotic swarm of predators and abominations thrust themselves into the conflict. They congregated in a frenzied mass, salivating at the prospect of devouring fresh vitals and warm blood.

Though the soil of this region had long been corrupted, the lifeblood of the people remained a vivid crimson. While no major casualties had occurred yet, Enkrid noticed a small youth who had stumbled—a thin stream of red weeping from a barked knee. Even as the child hit the ground, a cry of “Demon-Knight!” escaped their lips. To Enkrid’s ears, the shout carried the desperate weight of a prayer for deliverance.

It required no genius to understand how the potent aroma of that blood acted as a drug for the approaching horde. They arrived in overwhelming numbers. Yet, among the sea of monsters, the most formidable was a construct of pure sorcery armored in heavy plate. This was the Iron Golem—a massive, articulated statue of forged metal.

Its metallic hide was dense enough to turn aside almost any standard edge, making it a nightmare to engage. For anyone lacking the status of a knight, the typical approach was a slow, exhausting war of attrition that usually ended in the attacker’s demise. In short—it was lethal. Projectiles were useless. Blades simply skittered off the surface. The only logical way to dismantle it was through the use of heavy blunt force to crack the exterior and reach the internal engine.

Even for those of the knightly class, victory was not guaranteed. One does not simply cleave through thickened iron as if it were parchment. It was achievable, certainly, but it demanded a grueling investment of physical power, technical precision, and tactical patience.

Observing the construct, Enkrid pondered—did this magical entity experience a hollow stomach? Or was its existence fueled solely by a directive to annihilate? His internal questions were silenced by the sound of its approach.

THUD!

The earth shuddered beneath its weight. This thing surely outweighed the stampeding rhino beast they had fought earlier by several factors. Every footfall sent a concussive ripple through the dirt. Its mere proximity seemed to thicken the air, making it hard to breathe.

On par with that bovine bladesman, Enkrid mused.

This was no common Iron Golem. Its threat level was significantly higher. Lacking a mouth, it offered no intimidating cry. Instead, it hoisted a massive cylindrical rod of steel and brought it down against the earth.

BOOM!

A violent detonation of sound followed, sending a stinging tremor up through the soles of everyone’s boots. The weapon was like a colossal mallet—unrefined and devastating. Legend held that if an Iron Golem persisted long enough, it would eventually integrate weapons into its own framework, effectively becoming an engraved armament. In the songs of traveling minstrels, such golems were portrayed as sluggish, dim-witted sentinels of forgotten vaults. But facing one in the flesh proved those stories were dangerous understatements.

The monster had to be intercepted. Ragna, positioned nearest to the threat, moved into its path. He squinted at the titan, his neck craning back just to take in its full height. Up close, the creature was so immense it defied easy visual processing. It was larger even than that bear-like man of the cloth. At such a distance, one’s sense of scale simply fractured.

Vague recollections of how such entities were birthed from ancient sorceries flickered in his mind, but the specifics eluded him. It didn’t matter anyway.

SCRAAAAPE.

The heavy steel beam carved a furrow in the dirt as the golem moved. Ragna, his eyes still half-closed in a look of bored intensity, came to a realization.

I can achieve it now. What? A more sophisticated stroke.

Moved by the displays Enkrid had previously shown, Ragna had felt a competitive spark—and he had finally forged his rebuttal.

Conversion of Will.

While Zaun had prioritized the governance of Will, Ragna’s focus was on its metamorphosis. He projected his Will, gave it a tangible physical state, and locked it into a static form. It was a shape birthed from resolve, fueled by sheer intent. He saturated that Will with a singular, uncompromising command: to sever everything in its path.

Its form is that of a razor.

Over the radiant glow of his sword, Sunrise, a delicate scarlet radiance began to cling to the metal.

I cannot shroud the entire length.

He felt the energy bleeding away toward the center, so he concentrated the manifestation along the primary edge. Consequently, only one side of the weapon burned with that crimson light. It looked like a sliver of bloody fire had been grafted onto the steel.

As the construct swung its massive iron club, Ragna executed a rising diagonal cut. It wasn’t a flashy burst of speed or a desperate show of strength. His steps were nimble, his posture relaxed. He didn’t even seem to be trying. To a distant observer, it might have looked like a casual flick of the wrist.

But the impact told a different story.

SSSSHHHK—FWOOSH.

The blade Sunrise passed through the reinforced metal as if it were soft curd. A trail of embers erupted along the line of the cut. The massive iron club fell apart in two pieces. The golem’s torso was similarly marked by a diagonal, smoldering fissure. Ragna adjusted his grip and brought the sword down in a vertical arc—parting the golem’s head and chest completely.

It appeared far too effortless.

Could a knight take down a golem? Yes. But never with such ease. Most would have to strike a hundred times, building momentum, chipping away at the joints to finally reveal the heart. They didn’t just bisect it with two lazy swings.

With the machinery exposed, the end was swift. Ragna plunged his point into the spherical engine—the golem’s version of a heart—nestled within the ruined chest.

Crunch— The core disintegrated.

A dim, luminous fluid began to leak out. The colossus toppled with a deafening THUD, shattering into heavy fragments of scrap. A viscous grease pooled between the jagged remains.

Despite the ongoing chaos of the larger battle, everyone had stopped to watch. Those who had seen Ragna’s display were left speechless. As the immediate fighting slowed, Rem finally found his voice.

“What in the world was that?”

Ragna, despite being the obvious subject of the inquiry, didn’t bother to turn his head.

“A cut.”

He offered nothing more.

“That’s all you have to say?” Rem barked, frustrated.

Ragna simply ignored the outburst. Enkrid had witnessed it as well.

Naturally. That is how monsters behave.

Fashioning a blade out of pure Will? The man was a lunatic. Simply grasping the theory behind such a feat was difficult enough. How had he managed to execute it? He had encased his steel in a shell of solidified intent—forging a phantom edge that could pass through any material.

“Flame Blade?” Teresa whispered to herself. She recalled a line from the holy scriptures describing a deity of combat who wielded a brand of living fire that no shield could stop.

“No, Sister,” Audin interjected. “That isn’t a miracle. That is pure martial artistry.”

It went beyond simple manipulation; it was the craft of molding Will into an entirely different state of matter. Audin, who could channel sacred light to shield his own form, watched with a contemplative gaze.

Could I potentially shape the holy radiance into such a sharp form?

It would be a daunting task—but the possibility was there. And perhaps it didn’t have to be a sword. Maybe it could become something else entirely. Lord, is this a sign? Are you teaching me through this slothful man?

Simply observing the act seemed to expand his grasp of holy energy. He felt his internal reservoir of power shifting and maturing. Among the chosen of the war god, Audin’s natural aptitude had always been considered elite.

Rem’s lips twitched, opening as if to shout, then clamping shut. Enkrid could see the conflict in him—Rem wanted to unleash a string of insults but couldn’t find a single one that fit the moment.

“Do you feel defeated?” Enkrid asked.

“Quiet. I’m capable of that too, for your information.”

It was obvious he had been sparked into a competitive rage. Enkrid knew the signs. Ragna was also aware of what he had achieved. He had stepped onto a path no one else had trodden. A new realm of power. A revolutionary technique. For a brief moment, a sense of total mastery—of being better than everyone else—washed over him.

He lifted his chin with a hint of arrogance and surveyed the area. The Mad Order of Knights, the slayers of all things monstrous. Their leader stood at the center. Ragna decided there was only one thing left to proclaim.

“I am the vice-captain now.”

The rejection from the others was instantaneous and synchronized.

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“That rank demands maturity and focus.”

“Did the golem hit you in the skull, Lazy Brother?”

“If you’re going to behave like that savage, why don’t you two go off and play together?”

Rem, Shinar, Audin, and Jaxon spoke in rapid succession. It was so perfectly timed it felt like a practiced choir. Jaxon’s concluding remark was particularly pointed. It was a callback to when Rem had used his Residue ability to demolish Audin’s quarters just to flex his power over Enkrid. His posturing then was no different from Ragna’s current ego trip.

“Care to test it? This Flame Blade?”

Ragna snatched the name Teresa had whispered and used it as a challenge, pointing his weapon toward Jaxon.

“What’s the use of a fancy sword if you can’t land a hit?” Jaxon fired back.

A volatile tension sparked between the two. Like two apex predators circling one another. Neither had drawn blood yet, but the sheer killing intent was enough to make the onlookers shiver.

“It’s alright. They won’t actually kill each other,” Rophod said, trying to settle the nerves of the terrified villagers from the Demon Realm.

Pell stood by, eyes wide, muttering, “What kind of madness is this?” Then he shook his head aggressively. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need a gift like that. I’ll reach those heights through sheer repetition. Only the grind counts. He reaffirmed his vow to himself.

“If you never stop, you’ll get there. Isn’t that man the perfect example?” Lua Gharne added, having caught Pell’s internal monologue.

Enkrid remained silent regarding the vice-captain claim. He seemed genuinely stunned by the sheer scale of the genius’s breakthrough.

“This is truly absurd,” he whispered.

The emotion in his voice was easy to detect. Enkrid wasn’t the type for outward displays, but this time, his feeling was like a heavy stone dropped into a still pond—the ripples were massive. The sensation was as clear as the scent of pine on a mountain breeze—vibrant and deep. If one had to categorize his current state, it was pure bliss. Genuine happiness.

A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. Seeing this, Shinar chimed in.

“Perhaps we should just have three children?”

At this point, Shinar’s teasing had gone far beyond the pale. Enkrid didn’t even seem to process the words.

“I’ve been captivated by him all over again,” Lua Gharne remarked. It wasn’t a statement of romance, but rather a recognition of the magnetic, overwhelming aura the man radiated.

The tainted villagers watched the exchange and only felt their dread deepen. Why were these warriors, having just butchered a legion of horrors, merely gossiping? Why was the man in the center wearing a smile? Why was the fairy talking about offspring, and why did the woman say she was charmed?

Even the Balrogs, the demonic entities that existed only for carnage, didn’t seem to find this much joy in the slaughter. These people were cultists, but they were still human. Most had spent their lives in isolation—ignorant of the true world. This display was simply more than their minds could handle.

One by one, they collapsed to the ground, pressing their foreheads into the dirt in total submission to Enkrid.

It took another forty-eight hours to manage the wreckage of the battle. Even after the piles of monster carcasses were cleared, a foul odor hung in the air. But the attacks ceased. It stood to reason. They had defeated every variety of threat—the Iron Golem, Harpies, and legendary beasts.

A Gremlin that moved faster than a fired arrow had been intercepted and slain by Jaxon. An Armored Bear with a coat as hard as tempered steel had its skull caved in by Teresa’s shield. The villagers had watched every second—and they were paralyzed with fear.

Enkrid remained indifferent. He knew that being “nice” wouldn’t change their perspective now. Instead—

“So, what is the plan? He likely hasn’t given it a single thought. He just moves on whim,” Roman whispered, turning toward Rem. Within the group, Rem was the only one Roman felt he could talk to.

“I have considered it,” Enkrid answered.

Ragna remained unbothered. Audin inquired if this was part of a divine plan. Lua Gharne blinked her large eyes and asked—

“Well, what is it?”