Chapter 83

* * *

KUNG!

KUNG!

From the furthest reaches of the Valerand battlefield, from the stronghold where the Archdukes made their stand, a series of thunderous explosions echoed.

The source of the blasts was none other than Mikael and Maltiel’s dark magic. Their intention was to shatter the barrier that blanketed the battlefield and escape Valerand as swiftly as possible.

The choice to ‘fight a Sword Saint’ wasn’t one either Archduke considered. No matter how powerful an Archduke might be, they knew better than anyone that they couldn’t compare to a Sword Saint.

‘Ten seconds.’

For the two Archdukes, who had only been waiting for a chance to flee, the Sword Saint’s declaration was an unprecedented opportunity.

Judging that the Sword Saint wouldn’t recklessly move until the safety of the injured and the less capable was assured, the two Archdukes began sprinting toward the opposite end of the battlefield at their maximum speed.

And as a result, they found themselves halted at the edge of the semi-transparent barrier created by Bell.

Crack!

The moment Mikael faced the translucent wall, he unleashed a torrent of magic, desperate to carve an escape route.

He focused beams of pure darkness at his fingertips and unleashed them. He shaped blood, saturated with poison, into spears and hurled them against the wall.

But despite enduring every assault, the semi-transparent wall remained, steadfastly in place.

Without a scratch, without a single blemish.

“…A peculiar sensation. I believed I knew everything about fire school magic… But this is the first time I’ve encountered something like this. Did they develop it on their own?”

Mikael cast several more spells at the translucent wall, then placed his hand against it, focusing on the sensation at his fingertips as he spoke. The Archduke, who governed magic and knowledge, seemed intrigued by the unfamiliar magic that confronted him, even in this moment where his life hung by a thread.

“We can’t break it? The barrier is so large, covering all of Valerand, its intensity shouldn’t be this high.”

Maltiel, who had been watching Mikael from the side, also reached out to touch the semi-transparent wall before them.

It was an uncanny sensation. When you pushed against a wall, you should feel resistance, but Maltiel felt nothing against his fingertips.

It was like reaching into empty air. But no matter how much force he exerted, his arm wouldn’t move forward beyond a certain point.

“……No, it’s not magic based on the five elements. Is it a specialized school?”

“Is there a way to break through it?”

If only the Grand Dukes survived and escaped, the demon race could quickly rebuild their forces.

Mutants could be remade, and subordinates, including high-ranking demons, could also be newly bestowed by the Demon King.

Whereas it took the Demon King an average of four years to create a single Grand Duke, it took less than two hours to create a high-ranking demon.

Even if they lost all their troops, if only the Grand Dukes survived, they could perfectly recover from today’s losses within a month.

“……I need to analyze it to know for sure.”

“Hmm.”

Maltiel, without a word, turned his head toward the center of the distant battlefield.

Heat haze was rising there.

* * *

‘Overwhelming.’

Vinn, who had never seen the Sword Saint fight properly, focused his gaze on his back.

The Sword Saint had protected him once before, but because he had lost consciousness due to the aftereffects of ‘Bloom,’ he had never witnessed the Sword Saint’s battle with his own eyes.

‘……This is a sight I may never see more than a few times in my life. Let’s not miss a single detail.’

Whether he liked it or not, Vinn had to become as strong as the Sword Saint someday.

Although the Sword Saint was not a mage like the boy, there would be much to gain simply by watching the battle of the strongest, known as ‘the present and future of the continent,’ with his own eyes.

The way he controlled the situation on the battlefield, the strategies he used to lead the battle in numerically unfavorable situations, and so on… the boy still had a mountain of things he lacked.

As if responding to the boy’s gaze, the Sword Saint slowly raised his thin blade and began to assume his stance.

“I will strike the Grand Dukes directly. So, take care of the other Mutants.”

“…Understood!”

The officer, having received the Sword Saint’s command directly, responded with a voice choked with emotion.

“All forces, exterminate the Variants and the Demons! Prevent them from interfering in the Grand General’s battle!”

“Uaaagh!”

A roar echoes, encompassing all directions. The blue sky and sun, even the wind, remain silent, and the soldiers, forgetting their pain, once again raise their swords.

“…Ariel! Lend me some troops! Quickly!”

“Tch.”

Overlord Raguel, his own forces decimated by the Sword Saint, shouts with desperate urgency.

Soon, from beyond the stiffly frozen hill, a barrage of sharp bone flies towards the soldiers.

A Variant, its immense body comparable to a whale and possessing enormous arms, thunders towards the soldiers from afar, shaking the ground with each deafening step.

The monsters purse their lips as if about to spit, then spew forth bone after bone from their cavernous mouths.

“Hold the lineee!”

The soldiers’ shields converge, massing around the mages, who encase the shields in a protective barrier.

The bones, weakened upon striking the barrier, are easily deflected from the soldiers’ shields. Arrows, however, protrude from the gaps in the formation, shooting straight toward the eyes of the distant, approaching giants.

“I leave it to you.”

The Sword Saint, his leather coat billowing, passes over the heads of the soldiers arrayed in their compact formation.

Vin, driven by the single-minded desire not to miss a moment of his battle, keeps his eyes wide open, following him with unwavering focus.

The Sword Saint, having brushed past the heads of the soldiers, gracefully navigates through the ranks of Variants gathered to protect Raguel.

Raguel, his face contorted in fear, belatedly spreads his wings and rises into the air.

Once again, heat shimmers dance, playing tricks on the young boy’s eyes.

The frail boy could only blink, eyes briefly closed and then opened.

In that fleeting moment, everything was decided.

Raguel’s two wings, soaring high in the empty air, were severed from his torso.

“Raguel? Our mage said you were the weakest of the Archdukes.”

Wingless, Raguel faltered in the air, losing his balance. But the Sword Saint, who had never known wings, stood firm even in the void, as if treading solid ground.

“Wait—!”

The Sword Saint’s blade sheared away the remaining wings attached to Raguel’s body. Soon, his wretched form began to plummet towards the earth.

The Sword Saint’s arm did not cease.

His slender blade drew a perfect line as it separated Raguel’s head from his torso, sending it tumbling downwards.

Behind Raguel’s helplessly falling body, wings began to sprout anew. The Archduke’s headless torso stretched its palms haphazardly towards the sky, then unleashed a jet of obsidian light.

*Thwack.*

The arm Raguel was using to prepare a spell was cleanly severed. Blood, laced with potent venom, sprayed in all directions, but the Sword Saint did not so much as bat an eye as he continued his assault.

*‘Not the wings, nor the head or the arms. The restoration is still centered around the torso.’*

To kill a demon, one must find and destroy the ‘core’ hidden somewhere within its body.

No matter how much blood is spilled, the demon will endlessly regenerate its form as long as the core remains intact.

*‘Next, I sever the legs.’*

Therefore, when fighting demons, locating where the demon has concealed its core within its body is of utmost importance.

*Thwack!*

The Sword Saint’s blade ravaged Raguel’s body once more.

At that moment, the first severed wing began to regenerate.

Raguel, his nascent wings struggling for purchase, fought to regain his balance.

“Hold still.”

The Sword Saint, seemingly bothered by the flapping wings, cleaved through Raguel’s chest and abdomen in one fell swoop.

‘Now, where is it.’

The Sword Saint’s method of locating a demon lord’s core was brutally simple.

To dissect the grand demon’s body, piece by agonizing piece, until the core’s location was pinpointed.

From the severed upper torso, Raguel’s face belatedly bloomed anew.

Upon that face, the raw terror of death was etched with painful clarity.

“There.”

When the body was severed, the grand demon’s flesh would regenerate, centering itself around the core.

The Sword Saint analyzed the subtle differences in the rhythm and speed at which Raguel’s severed wings and arms regrew, deducing which side of Raguel’s chest harbored the core.

‘Left side. Near the heart, perhaps.’

Inwardly, the Sword Saint found Raguel foolish. Of all the grand demons he had carved apart, not a single one had concealed their core in what humans would typically consider a ‘vital spot.’

Because the majority of humans instinctively focused their attacks on just such locations.

This was precisely why he severed the wings and limbs first…

“Well, if it was meant as a reverse-psychology ploy, I concede that much.”

The Sword Saint sharpened the edge of his blade, drawing back his arm to rend the spot he suspected held Raguel’s core.

*Whoosh-*!

It was in that instant.

A sonic boom, carried by a colossal gust of wind, descended.