Chapter 764

Chapter 764

Neither Rem nor Ragna harbored a genuine desire to come to blows. Had they actually intended to fight, Enkrid would have stepped in to restrain them before it began. “So this is the atmosphere of the Demon Realm,” Rem remarked, his eyes fixed on Ragna. Having spent his youth scouring the western reaches of the Demon Realm, he was entirely unbothered by the environment. Spell power was naturally suited to resisting such oppressive and malevolent pressures.

To him, the surroundings were essentially a pervasive curse. By circulating his internal energy throughout his frame and projecting it outward, he could effectively overwrite the local atmosphere with his own essence. It was a technique that was simultaneously simple and grueling—a matter of exuding enough power to reshape the tainted air into something familiar. This was a feat that relied on more than just raw Will; it required the specific utility of spell power. By doing this, Rem could operate with his full efficiency regardless of the realm he was in, though it acted as a constant drain on his reserves, preventing him from unleashing high-level magic at a moment’s notice.

Ragna was employing a different but equally effective method. The blade he gripped, Sunrise, functioned as both a magical tool and an engraved weapon. The sentient Will residing within the steel synchronized with Ragna’s own, pushing back the corruption that crowded around him. While it didn’t cleanse the entire forest, it carved out enough space for him to move unhindered. Truthfully, Ragna was already subconsciously recalibrating his senses to the environment, much like Rem was doing.

As the two stood off, a massive figure moved past them with a silence that defied its bulk. “If you two intend to continue your posturing, this lowly servant of the Almighty shall take the lead,” Audin said. As the continent’s most renowned practitioner of divine arts, the demonic air was a non-factor to him. A soft white radiance enveloped his body as he stepped forward, having condensed his Holy Light Armor into a more efficient form.

A towering entity—more a sentient thicket than a mere tree—lashed out with a massive limb as Audin drew near. The strike was a reflexive, mindless defense. Audin didn’t flinch; he simply extended his hand, stiffening it into a blade-like shape. A sliver of brilliant white light manifested along the edge of his palm, forming a razor-sharp vertical line.

Shhk!

The impact was effortless. It didn’t feel like cutting through dense wood; it was like a hot knife through butter. The pulsing, dark branch was severed instantly. Black, turgid sap sprayed from the wound, but the droplets that hit Audin’s face were vaporized into steam by his protective aura before they could touch his skin.

“This is quite taxing on one’s divine reserves,” Audin noted. He was performing a miniature version of the Will-blade Ragna had demonstrated earlier, focusing the energy only at the precise moment of contact. To achieve such a sharp edge with a bare hand was a terrifying display of control. Audin smiled, retracted the light, and balled his hand into a fist. “I find this more personal, brothers.”

He surged forward toward the main trunk with grace and speed. Closing the gap in a blur, he planted his weight, twisted his torso, and delivered a devastating inward hook. His fist was shrouded in a dense, spherical mass of light that resembled a war-mace. His movement was as light as a butterfly, but the impact was catastrophic.

Boom!

The wooden torso didn’t just break; it detonated. The monster’s frame buckled as dark fluid erupted in every direction, some of it reaching as far as Enkrid’s position. The sheer force required to cause such a rupture was something only Audin could calculate.

“Divine Father! I send another to serve in Your halls!” he bellowed. His aura flared brighter, and his speed increased. He became a streak of light darting between the trees.

Boom! Crack!

Each strike sent another wooden horror toppling, their bodies bursting in radial sprays of sap. One punch for every soul, guided toward the afterlife with aggressive piety. Whether the monsters understood the religious significance of being punched into oblivion was irrelevant; they would have plenty of time to contemplate it in the next world.

Thwack!

Another steel projectile whistled through the air. Rem and Ragna reacted instantly, their heads snapping toward the threat before it even arrived. Despite their earlier bickering, their coordination was flawless. One used an axe and the other a sword to intercept the arrow simultaneously.

Crash!

The metal shaft was sheared into pieces and sent spinning into the dirt. “I’ll deal with you later, you aimless lunatic,” Rem growled. “There is no reason we cannot settle it now,” Ragna countered. Without another word, they split up, diving into the fray. The woods soon echoed with the sounds of shattering timber as they tore through the wooden ranks.

“You truly have a talent for managing such a chaotic group,” Lua Gharne remarked, watching the carnage with genuine respect. It was a miracle that such volatile personalities functioned as a unit. “I was assigned to lead a squad that was deemed uncontrollable from the start,” Enkrid replied. It was the simple truth. Had he not been their anchor, they likely would have met grim ends: Rem executed for killing nobles, Ragna lost as a mercenary for a foreign empire, and Audin driven mad by his own suppressed power.

But they were here, unified under a man with black hair and piercing blue eyes. “Let’s finish this,” Enkrid said, looking toward the horizon. “Indeed. And if any more arrows come, don’t worry about them. I can handle the cover,” Pell added with a huff as he moved forward. Rophod merely gave a silent nod and vanished into the brush.

Lua Gharne unfurled her whip, which ignited with a roar of flame. She had adapted the technique after witnessing a fragment of a Balrog’s power, and her eyes danced with anticipation. Even Frokk, despite his size, showed a fierce readiness for battle, driven by a scholar’s curiosity about the demonic flora.

Enkrid moved to Shinar’s side. “Are you holding up?” Shinar looked exhausted. She had her Leaf Blade drawn, but she was clearly at her limit. “You should stay back and recover,” Enkrid suggested. Shinar took a few labored breaths, looking past the monsters toward the dense forest ahead. “You are so thoughtful,” she whispered. “…Excuse me?” “I might find myself falling for that charm all over again.” Enkrid sighed. “Can we please retire that joke?”

The threat to the fairy city was over, and Shinar was free of her burdens. There were no more political marriages looming over her, yet she persisted with her teasing. “Do you truly think I am joking?” she asked, her green eyes locking onto his with sudden, intense gravity. “…Let’s just move on. Just stay behind me,” Enkrid said, unable to win the verbal sparring. He decided he would find a way to tease the ancient fairy back later.

He stepped forward, leveling his blade.

Baaang!

More arrows rained down, but they were intercepted before they could find a mark. Rem’s earlier shout of “The first one hit by an arrow is the loser!” had turned the battlefield into a high-stakes competition. Teresa was leading the charge on one flank, her half-giant blood singing as she roared, her shield and sword clearing a path through the wooden monsters.

Enkrid realized he didn’t even need to intervene. This group possessed the destructive potential of a small army. Even excluding himself, Shinar, and Jaxon, there were six knights here who could collectively bring a kingdom to its knees.

The battlefield was a cacophony of breaking wood and splashing sap. No human blood had been spilled—save for a tiny mishap. Pell, in his eagerness, had been clipped on the arm by a blade-like branch while dodging an arrow. His armor, a complex layer of harpy leather and Noir Mountain iron, had held, but the flexible joint had been grazed.

“Pell, you’re the loser,” Rophod shouted, sliding past a rising root with the agility of a circus performer. His transformation from a cautious squire to a daring provocateur was complete. “It wasn’t an arrow! It doesn’t count!” Pell yelled back. “You’re bleeding enough to be sent to the medical tents,” Rophod mocked, despite it being a mere scratch. “Are you blind? There’s hardly a drop!” “Failure comes for everyone eventually,” Ragna added with a patronizing pat on Pell’s shoulder, which only served to irritate the scout further. Pell vowed then and there to master a technique of absolute invulnerability.

Suddenly, Jaxon reappeared at the edge of the clearing. He was the only one entirely clean of sap. “The path is open,” Jaxon reported. “And there is something… ‘interesting’ just ahead.” When Jaxon used that word, it meant the danger level had spiked.

“Move out,” Enkrid commanded. They couldn’t afford to let the enemy regroup. Rem took the lead. “They can’t keep up that teleporting arrow trick forever. It takes too much focus.”

They pushed through the final layer of the wooden wall and stopped. Before them stood a fortress that seemed grown rather than built—a wall of thorns and knotted wood, decorated with the agonizing faces of trapped souls. This was the Thornbush Fortress.

“What in the hell are those?” Rem asked, looking at the faces. He glanced upward and saw a figure standing atop a spire. It had the silhouette of a fairy, but with navy skin, gray hair, and eyes tainted with a deep, demonic purple. “A fairy?” Rophod asked. “No,” Shinar hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “That is a corrupted elemental—a rot-sprout. A mockery of what it once was.”

The creature on the wall looked down at Enkrid and smirked. “A handsome one, at least,” it drawled. Enkrid didn’t waste words. In one fluid motion, he pulled a collapsible rod from his belt, snapped it extended into a spear, and used his sword as a pivot point. He twisted his entire body, channeling his Will into a devastating throw—a javelin version of his Vortex technique.

Boom! CRASH!

The spear streaked like a comet, slamming into the spire. It didn’t hit the corrupted fairy, but the shockwave knocked it off its feet. The projectile had been intercepted by a massive, armored figure standing beside the archer. This guardian wore full plate armor and carried a smoking, magical morning star. It had caught the javelin on a heavy shield, though the force had vibrated through the entire structure.

“Close,” Enkrid muttered, resetting his stance. The faces in the wall let out a collective, startled moan. The suddenness of the attack seemed to have shocked even the fortress itself. “When someone sends you that many arrows,” Enkrid said calmly, “it’s only polite to send something back.” Ragna nodded in grim approval. “Fair enough.”