Chapter 767

Chapter 767

A dark avian predator circled high above before tucking its pinions to plummet. Its velocity seemed at odds with its gargantuan frame; perhaps its sheer mass only accelerated its descent.

The atmosphere fractured with a thunderous crack. Just as the shadow of the black bird swept past the ground, Rem vanished from his position.

“That absolute maniac—”

Pell witnessed the maneuver and couldn’t suppress a shout of admiration. He had been skeptical when Rem demanded cover, but now he understood.

Moments before the impact, the wild warrior from the West had lashed a rope to a hand axe and hurled it skyward. As the avian beast dived with its beak leveled like a heavy spear, Rophod and Pell swung their blades to parry the lethal point. In that heartbeat of diversion, the axe and tether Rem had thrown looped securely around the monster’s throat.

With a surge of momentum, Rem hauled himself onto the creature’s spine just as it ascended once more.

“Commander.”

Rophod signaled Enkrid, though Enkrid was already watching the one man on earth who required no protection.

“Leave him be. That’s Rem.”

He was a warrior capable of fulfilling his duty even while clinging to the clouds.

“Loo–loo–laa–la!”

A bizarre, savage howl drifted from the heights. It was Rem’s cry. He was likely bellowing in a trance of joy, spurred on by the resonance of Teresa’s hymn rising from below. It had been an age since Rem had channeled the folk chants of the West. Wasn’t there a superstition that a scavenger’s cry heralded disaster?

Perched upon the beast’s back, Rem wove a spell to call forth a companion spirit. As the translucent image of a colossal eagle manifested behind him, he plunged his left hand deep between the black feathers. His fingers acted like predatory talons, piercing the hide and locking into the muscle.

Piiiii—

He pursed his lips and emitted a whistle that mimicked an eagle’s piercing scream. Using his embedded hand as an anchor, Rem flattened his body and began to scale the creature’s spine like a mountaineer traversing a vertical face. The only difference was that his “mountain” was a living, thrashing titan suspended in the air.

He lunged toward the monster’s cranium, driving the axe he had prepared earlier deep into the bone. Every action was executed with such seamless grace that it appeared as a single, blurred motion. The black bird bucked and rolled in a desperate attempt to dislodge its passenger—but Rem remained fixed.

Then came the climax—

Thunk!

The blade split the creature’s skull. A spray of dark ichor and brain matter erupted from the small head. Still anchored by his left hand, Rem crouched low before partially straightening his stance. Looking up, he saw the sickly, distorted sun of the gray sky, and another avian predator crossing its path.

Rem had already mapped its trajectory. He stowed his secondary weapon, yanked the axe from the dying bird’s skull, and launched it with full force. The second target’s immense size made it impossible to miss.

Thhhwip—

The hand axe whistled through the air, burying itself firmly in the back of the second bird. While the first beast was in a terminal descent, it still functioned as a temporary platform. Rem treated it as such. He coiled his muscles, tension rippling through his thighs, gripped the rope attached to the distant axe, and gave a violent tug.

The second bird, flailing in surprise, was jerked toward him and momentarily stalled. That fraction of a second was all he needed. Rem hauled on the cord and leaped, his limbs outstretched to catch the air currents, landing perfectly on the second creature’s back. With his arms wide, he bore a striking resemblance to a soaring eagle.

Below him, the first bird—his temporary stepping stone—plummeted and shattered against the earth far from the front lines.

Crash!

As the impact echoed, Rem’s axe once again bit into the skull of his second mount.

Piiii—

His whistle shrilled through the sky once more.

How exactly did he intend to return to the ground?

It was a logical concern, but Enkrid didn’t voice it. He held a firm conviction that Rem would manage. The man wasn’t the type to leap without a safety net, and the environment offered several exits. He could use the giant trees to break his fall or simply signal Audin for a catch.

“He might snap a leg… but it’s unlikely.”

He hadn’t ascended so far that he was a mere speck; at this altitude, he would be fine. Just as that thought crossed Enkrid’s mind, the final bird of the trio panicked. As Rem boarded it, the creature spiraled upward in a vertical climb. Even from below, Enkrid recognized the movement as pure terror—a final, suicidal flight.

Mortals cannot fly, not even the most storied knights. The bird, which had once cast a suffocating shadow over them, now looked no larger than a common man. Would Rem ride it down after crushing its skull?

No—he simply opened the creature’s throat with a wide slash.

Once more, a rain of dark blood descended. Feathers and gore drifted down alongside the falling carcass and the solitary warrior. Rem utilized the body as a springboard one last time, performing a feat of incredible skill. After dropping a safe distance, he seemed to catch the wind itself.

Rem was not a knight; he was a shaman. He invoked the spirit of the eagle to provide buoyancy. It wasn’t true flight, but with his limbs spread, he glided toward the earth with predatory elegance.

The only complication was his trajectory.

“That idiot looks completely turned around.”

Ragna, having finished clearing the plague ghouls, walked over to comment. When Enkrid remained silent, Ragna emphasized his point with a smirk.

“The fool who can’t find his way out of a paper bag is drifting the wrong way.”

“…He’ll find his way back.”

The dying bird had carried Rem far from the center of the conflict. Whether by instinct or spite, the beast had succeeded in isolating him. Still, Enkrid felt no unease. He knew Rem would return. Rem wasn’t like Ragna; a tracker from the West could navigate the heart of the Demon Realm without a map. There was no point in waiting.

Whatever their motives, the magic spirit on the spire and the presiding priest or castellan had retreated. In truth, they had departed because they knew this relentless company would continue to bleed themselves dry against the defenses.

Plague ghouls were grueling opponents, and they were only the beginning. Above were the stitched crow-beasts, and beyond the ghouls lay horrors birthed from forbidden alchemy and dark sorcery. Furthermore, the enemy was entrenched behind a fortress of living thorns. They could afford to be patient.

From the magic spirit’s perspective, having spent her initial volley, it was time to regroup. Their strategy was one of cold mockery. They intended to wait until the party was broken and exhausted before taunting them from the battlements.

“Splendid effort. You’ve fought so hard. Now, why not test yourselves against this four-armed lycanthrope? Oh, do forgive me—did you happen to encounter my hand-tailored ‘elite’ creation back there?”

That was the dialogue they expected to deliver while looking down from the safety of the heights. The trials ahead would dwarf the skirmish with the ghouls. Arrows would pour from the tower trees, and crystal knights in obsidian armor would be unleashed.

Even Enkrid couldn’t perfectly decipher the intent of the disappeared priest or the spirit. But if they placed their faith in those walls—that was a faith he intended to demolish.

Though the leaders had retreated, the ramparts were not empty. Shadows flitted across the stone, and Enkrid’s keen eyes tracked their patterns. In that same moment, he noted that Jaxon was no longer present. Jaxon was fulfilling his role; the rest of them would do the same.

Enkrid spoke.

“Lua.”

Lua Gharne didn’t look at him. Instead, her wide eyes scanned the horizon rhythmically. The wall, the beasts, the projectiles, the spirit, the geography—she was weaving all these threads into a mental tapestry.

Frokk Lua Gharne possessed the rare gift of finding triumph within catastrophe. It was her hallmark. She was the architect who could turn a failing position into a stalemate, or even a victory. Because her genius was rooted in pure combat intuition, it was nearly impossible to replicate or teach, but its power was undeniable.

If a person could reverse the tide when the situation was dire, how much more terrifying would they be when they held the upper hand? It was a simple truth: those who excel in adversity are invincible when the wind is at their back. This was the core of Lua Gharne’s tactical bladework.

Enkrid had absorbed much of this wisdom through the cycle of his own countless deaths. It was why Lua Gharne had taken a liking to him; while instinct cannot be taught, he was a student who could intuit the lessons through experience. That hunger for martial perfection was what captivated Frokk.

As Lua Gharne focused on the fortress, Enkrid’s thoughts synchronized with hers.

“Experience in sieges.”

Enkrid revisited memories of his previous assaults on fortified positions. They were few, but significant. He didn’t need to calculate the standard variables of defense. There was no water-filled moat, and they wouldn’t face boiling pitch. But he knew that the moment they touched those walls, the specters bound in the thorns would attempt to rend their flesh.

“This isn’t a standard fortification. Traditional maneuvers won’t suffice.”

Usually, a defender relied on moats and harassment units to drain an attacker’s resources. Defense was the comfort of the hearth; offense was the misery of the mud.

“The advantage typically lies with the garrison.”

Unless, of course, the fortress was starved into submission.

“But none of those rules apply here.”

Their group was a small, elite strike team without a supply chain. The thorn-citadel of the Demon Realm obeyed its own logic. Though he seemed lost in thought, Enkrid’s mind was moving at lightning speed. Two questions remained.

What was their side missing?

“Siege machinery.”

They lacked the heavy ballistae or trebuchets needed to crack the stone. The enemy had bone-crafted artillery on the walls; they had nothing.

Then, the second question:

What did they possess?

“Nine forces of nature known as disasters… or eight, for the moment.”

When Rem rejoined them, they would be nine. Currently, they were eight “disasters” led by Frokk, the seeker of vulnerabilities.

Enkrid looked at Lua Gharne. She wasn’t acting out or making a sound; she simply watched. The gray light of the sun was being strangled by a rising tide of ink. It looked as though a giant brush was painting over the twilight of the Demon Realm in black soot.

Just before the darkness took hold, Lua’s expression shifted.

Gurrrk.

“This looks entertaining,” she remarked. “Let’s just crush it with overwhelming power.”

Her directive was blunt. She understood the capabilities of every person in the squad. Ordering a cautious, flanking maneuver would have been a waste of their potential.

“Willpower has its limits.”

Even Enkrid, whose resolve was legendary, had physical boundaries. The only logical path was a single, devastating breakthrough. They possessed the raw force required. The enemy had made the mistake of underestimating them.

The group, once tightly packed, spread out to cover the width of the wall. Lua Gharne favored simplicity. Over-calculating would only grant the enemy time to adapt. They needed to provide the unexpected. When one possesses absurd power, one should use it in absurd ways.

The fortress wall had no gates. There was no visible entrance. There were only thorns—sharp as needles, agonizing to even look upon.

“I’ll create a way in,” Audin said, staring at the impenetrable barrier.

The shrieks of the wraiths embedded in the wall shifted as Teresa’s song continued. One entity expelled a dark, viscous fluid that began to pool like a crimson moat. Another extended a tongue bristling with barbs, lashing out like Lua’s whip.

Crack, crack.

The thorny appendages tore at the air, ready to butcher anything that came close. Faces split open to reveal needle-like stingers.

“Should I provide a melody?” Teresa asked.

“Save your breath, Sister,” Audin replied, shaking his head.