Chapter 84

Rending the air, an arrow flew, its polished silver gleaming under the sunlight.

A premonition stirred in the wind, and the Sword Saint, mid-swing, turned his head.

A massive arrowhead aimed squarely at his crown, hurtling towards him.

A Grand Duke’s assassination attempt, launched from beyond the edge of sight.

An ordinary soldier wouldn’t even register the arrow’s approach, their skull simply crushed before a reaction could form.

Even a superior soldier would have their head explode the instant they perceived the danger. Someone approaching the elite might still find themselves overwhelmed; the timing and situation were too impeccably crafted for any effective countermeasure.

For the Sword Saint was, in that moment, extending his blade to sever Raguel’s lifeline.

Ariel’s arrow had been released precisely when his awareness was fully consumed by “attack.”

Furthermore, the Sword Saint was suspended in the air, with no purchase to speak of nearby.

‘Exquisite,’ he thought.

Initially, he’d considered using his sword to deflect the incoming projectile. But he quickly reconsidered.

‘…The arrow possesses considerable force. If I parry it, how far will the recoil send me?’

On solid ground, he could have absorbed the impact with his legs after deflecting the arrow. But in mid-air, that was impossible.

Even if he managed a perfect parry, the Sword Saint would be flung far from the heart of the battlefield.

‘Deflecting this arrow at this angle will launch me even higher. It would take at least three seconds to return.’

Three seconds.

The instant he parried the arrow, the Sword Saint would be forcibly removed from the fray for three seconds.

A mere blink for some, barely enough to rise from a fall, but for the Grand Duke, it was ample time to repair his wounds and flee the heart of the battle.

A head-on collision with the arrow was not an option.

‘Best to avoid that.’

As the thought solidified into decision, his body began to move with a strange urgency.

He kicked off the air as though it were solid ground, twisting his trajectory mid-flight, the arrow that flew like a dark comet only grazing his hair.

*Whoosh—!*

The chill whisper of displaced air brushed past the Sword Saint’s face.

“…That maniac!”

While the Sword Saint performed aerial acrobatics to dodge the projectile, Raguel’s damaged body was mostly restored. Displaying a Great Lord’s formidable regeneration, Raguel swung his long claws toward the Sword Saint’s throat.

Without a flicker of emotion, the Sword Saint merely swung his blade, severing Raguel’s arms and legs once more.

Even as he swung, the Sword Saint’s gaze was not on Raguel.

Belatedly, the sonic boom created by the arrow’s tremendous speed thundered across the battlefield.

“…”

The Sword Saint’s eyes had been fixed, ever since the arrow’s trajectory began, feverishly tracing its path. Raguel, seeing himself ignored despite standing directly before his foe, unleashed a torrent of curses, but they did not reach his enemy’s ears.

‘Found you.’

Soon, he located the dark silhouette concealed behind a mud hill.

Great Lord Ariel felt a paralyzing, inexplicable dread the instant his eyes met the Sword Saint’s.

He was a good two kilometers distant from the man.

Even though the mist had cleared and sunlight illuminated the battlefield, to pinpoint the sniper’s position hidden behind shadows and an earthen mound in a single glance…

That was no ordinary human’s perception.

‘Raguel has lost his entire force. He’s neither brilliant nor particularly skilled. I could kill him any time. But what about that sniper?’

The Sword Saint’s mind raced, even within the briefest instant.

Even wielding his blade purely on instinct, he possessed the skill to overwhelm the battlefield, but the Sword Saint sought a method to resolve this situation with minimal casualties and in the fastest time possible.

‘According to the report, he shrouds his entire body in shadow, making visual acquisition nearly impossible. This next shot, I might not pinpoint his location so easily.’

The Sword Saint’s eyes darted, urgently scanning the battlefield. Even as enormous lumps of flesh, dripping with virulent poison, plummeted from above, he remained unshaken.

‘Furthermore, that Archduke still has many troops under his command. Clearly, a more dangerous entity than Raguel right before my eyes.’

Composure, steadiness, and prudence.

‘Re-prioritizing.’

The moment the thought solidified, his body moved with swift precision.

The Sword Saint reached for Raguel’s head. Seizing it, he swiftly brought his legs to Raguel’s chest, planting a devastating kick.

The Sword Saint’s body plummeted towards the ground as Raguel’s chest shattered, a rose of blood and bone blooming in the air.

For a fleeting instant, the pitch-black core, hidden deep within Raguel’s chest, revealed itself.

‘The sniper is the trickiest element on this battlefield.’

Flesh and bone grew erratically around the half-destroyed chest, hastily enveloping the core to conceal it.

Gazing at the grotesque mass of flesh tangled behind the rose of blood and bone, the Sword Saint’s face twisted in disgust.

*Thump!*

In the next instant, the Sword Saint’s legs slammed against the hardened ground, creating a tremendous impact.

Leaving a spray of debris in his wake, he propelled himself off the earth, surging towards Ariel at incredible speed.

“…Damn it.”

The demon Ariel, enshrouded in shadow, saw his vision abruptly consumed by blackness. The word “death” was hurtling towards him from two kilometers away, at terrifying velocity.

Every living being possesses strengths and weaknesses.

And for Ariel, his strengths were an exceptional focus and marksmanship capable of accurately targeting a neck from dozens of kilometers away, and the pitch-black darkness that safely concealed his body.

Yet, even Ariel, the Demon Lord’s foremost sniper, possessed a failing.

A sniper’s lifeblood is stealth and concealment. When the Demon King created Ariel, this Archdemon, he bestowed upon him a special skin, capable of hiding him within shadows, and immense tensile strength, so that he might better fulfill his task of ‘sniping.’

But every evolution demands a price. Ariel forfeited magical power and the ability to fly in exchange for his unique skin and prodigious strength.

Ariel’s raison d’être lay solely in ‘sniping.’

‘Got him.’

In direct combat, Ariel was far below the average of an Archdemon.

“Fight!”

Ariel unleashed a horde of mutated creatures he’d buried beneath his feet for protection, pulling them from the ground all at once.

Grotesque beings cobbled together from colossal mushrooms, ancient trees, and countless fish surged towards the Swordsman.

Thud.

A light, almost feeble sound echoed.

The Swordsman’s slender blade had already been swung. Countless masses of flesh, baring teeth and claws, lunged to engulf him, but he remained unmoved.

He simply swung his blade wildly at the Archdemon hidden within the inky darkness.

The slender silver blade tore through the jet-black shadows. The Swordsman’s hand was filled with the sensation of rending flesh and bone.

In less than a single second, the Swordsman swung his blade fifty-one times.

Normally, he would have focused on determining the location of the core by comparing the speed at which the body was being restored. But because Ariel concealed his entire being within shadow, it was difficult to discern the subtle differences in the speed at which the severed flesh regenerated.

The method he’d always used to pinpoint the core’s location was failing him.

Thus, the Swordsman resolved to dismantle Ariel into units smaller than a single finger joint.

Inefficient, and a far greater drain on his stamina, but his instinct told him it was the only way.

After approximately one hundred and two strikes, the Swordsman felt something foreign, something other than flesh and bone, being severed by his fingertips.

He paused the relentless flurry of blows that had lasted two seconds, flicking the blood from his blade.

Silence.

It filled the battlefield completely, a vacuum of sound.

The chill that crawled across spines did not discriminate, touching demon and allied soldier alike.

Toward the single human dominating this field, every living thing began to feel a simultaneous awe and dread.

“One down, for now.”

One minute, twenty seconds.

A mere minute and twenty seconds had passed since the Sword Saint’s arrival on Valoran.

Grand Duke Ariel was dead.

* * *

Ariel’s demise left a profound mark on everyone present.

Courage and hope bloomed in the hearts of the continental army and their commanding generals. A sense of futile ending washed over the high-ranking lords and mutated creatures under Ariel’s banner. And among the other Grand Dukes, terror and despair took root.

“Ariel is dead, and time grows short.”

Grand Duke Maltyel, who had watched Ariel’s end from afar, exhaled a low sigh.

“Michael, the analysis?”

“It’s definitely a magic of a specialized school…but beyond that, I can’t say. At the very least, ten minutes will be required to analyze it and find a countermeasure.”

Michael was known as the most knowledgeable of the nine Grand Dukes when it came to magic and the arcane.

Even among the demons who hurled spells of unfathomable origins, Michael’s magic possessed a particularly unique and intricate circuitry.

“Ten minutes, and that monster will have killed us all three times over. Forgetting the idea of making a hole in the barrier might be wise. Is there no other way? You are far more learned than I in matters of magic, yes?”

Maltyel, sounding impatient, questioned Michael with a nervous edge.

At this rate, they too would soon meet the same end as Ariel.

“…Certainly, Bell is a remarkable mage. But the complexity and scope of this barrier have gone too far. He must be taking some sort of risk.”

“And what would that risk be?”

“Perhaps his brain is burning out in real time. He’s likely maintaining incredibly intricate magical calculations even now.”

“With Grisha at his side, I doubt his brain burning out is of much consequence. It’ll be healed the instant it melts.”

“That’s why I said, the complexity and scope of this barrier… it’s gone ‘too’ far.”

Mikael continued, his expression laced with impatience, as though he too felt the prickle of anxiety.

“The magic surrounding us isn’t the sort that can be sustained merely by risking brain melt. There’s definitely another risk, something more.”

“And you haven’t been able to pinpoint exactly what that risk is?”

“I haven’t.”

Mikael answered candidly.

“But you are certain that a risk exists?”

“I can be sure of it. A risk of a very dangerous kind, at that.”

Hearing Mikael’s confident words, Maltiel momentarily twisted his lips into an unsettling smirk.

“I’m not one for gambling often… “

The eldest of the Nine Archdukes, the creature that had survived the longest, had a mind brimming with countless tactics and strategies.

“It’s far better than waiting for death to come.”

And so, even in this desperate situation, with death looming, the creature began to move, seeking the most efficient choice, the one with the highest probability of survival.