Chapter 85

1 minute 20 seconds.

Barely a minute and twenty seconds after the Sword Saint set foot on Valoran, Overlord Ariel was dead.

The clash of arms, the soldiers’ screams, the nauseating roars of pulped flesh – all fell silent to witness that death.

At Ariel’s demise, countless Mutants and Demons ceased their movements as if their strings were cut. The Demons soaring through the sky plummeted toward the ground like powerless aircraft, and the massive Mutants stood frozen in place, like statues.

In the frigid silence, shredded flesh danced, gouts of gore sprayed like fountains, and crimson-stained leather armor writhed.

The Sword Saint’s eyes shifted, seeking other prey.

“…You damned maniac!”

Raguel was the first to break the silence.

He had mostly recovered from his injuries while Ariel was being torn apart by the Sword Saint’s blade.

The monster spread his massive wings, desperate to escape the chilling battlefield.

A silver blur hurtled towards the monster’s face.

Instinctively, Raguel twisted his head aside. The arrow whistled past his nose.

“…”

His gaze followed the icy trajectory of the arrow. It stopped on an Elf, clutching a longbow nearly as tall as herself. Raguel stared down at the archer, a look of disbelief plastered on his face.

Then, a deep rage settled upon his features.

A wave of mortal terror washed over the archer in an instant.

The Elf felt as though only she and the Overlord remained on the battlefield. Her muscles seized, and she forgot how to breathe.

“Insolent…”

“FIREEEEEEE!”

Just as Raguel began to gather a black light at his fingertips, an Orc officer with green skin bellowed.

A storm of red and blue descended upon the battlefield. Mages’ staves and spellbooks unleashed fire, lightning, and blades of wind.

“All forces, full assault! The tide of war has turned! Pin the Archduke down, don’t let him escape!”

“…Pin down? *You*, pin *me*?”

Raguel unfurled his enormous wings, meeting the incoming volley of magic and arrows head-on. Monster flesh and blood ripped away, but the wounds sealed themselves near instantly.

Mud billowed high once more.

Soldiers raised shields to protect the mages.

Raguel, as if finding it all laughable, charged straight into the shields. The sound of rending steel echoed.

The soldiers bearing the shields vanished without a trace. Shattered fragments of iron sprayed in every direction.

“Insolent little gnats.”

Raguel’s hands, slick with red blood, lunged for the mages’ throats.

A tiny dwarf, hammers gripped in both hands, charged toward the Archduke, but it was already too late.

…Or so it seemed.

“Get your hands off them.”

*Boom!*

The hand reaching for the mages vanished in a burst of sound and fury.

“……”

The Sword Saint’s Pommel slammed into Raguel’s ribs, sending the Archduke hurtling back hundreds of meters.

“Malthael and Mikael are still out there. Soldiers, focus on pinpointing the other two Archdukes’ locations. I’ll deal with Raguel.”

The Sword Saint flicked away a piece of filthy flesh stuck to Pommel, barking out orders.

“Y-Yes! Underst…”

Before the officers could even finish their replies, the Sword Saint launched himself forward, leaving a crater in the ground.

“……”

The mages wore expressions that suggested they hadn’t comprehended what, in the heavens, had just transpired before their eyes. They didn’t seem to fully grasp that they had almost perished, that they had narrowly escaped with their lives.

‘…Reach *that* level, is it?’

The white-haired boy, observing the Sword Saint’s fight from a safe distance, let out a hollow laugh.

He was immeasurably stronger than when he had first opened his eyes in this world.

He had even developed his own spells, gained a small measure of enlightenment regarding the study of magic, and strengthened his fighting prowess by acquiring special artifacts like the Red Crystal and Dajin’s Staff.

“Bullshit.”

But at this moment, what gripped the boy’s heart was a certain sense of awe, and a bone-deep feeling of powerlessness.

The thought that, no matter how hard he strived, he could never reach such a peak, inevitably crept into his mind.

‘…No. Focus.’

Was he not watching the battle of a man who could, without exaggeration, be called the strongest of humankind, right before his eyes? Now was not the time to waste these precious moments with foolish thoughts.

He had to, by any means possible, find something to learn from the Sword Saint’s battle, and make it his own.

‘…The instant Ariel’s location was confirmed, he immediately switched targets and dealt with the sniper first. How can his judgment be so swift? Did he foresee the scenario in advance? Or was he intentionally toying with Raguel, luring Ariel to take a shot?’

The boy’s mind raced.

‘His ability to adapt his plans to the situation is too fast. Is it the difference in experience? Is it even something I can learn and imitate?’

Though he thought it was difficult, the boy’s gaze never wavered from the Sword Saint.

‘What does he plan to do with the remaining two Archdukes who aren’t visible on the battlefield right now? Is he just focusing on the enemy in front of him for now? Or is he, once again, intentionally dragging out Raguel’s death, enticing the two Archdukes to reveal themselves….’

“Ah.”

At the edge of the boy’s vision, focused intently on the Sword Saint’s movements, a small, inky black dot faintly appeared.

That black dot, revealing its presence starkly against the bright sunlight, rapidly grew in size, soon taking on the distinct form of a demon.

Jet-black horns, crimson eyes, immense wings.

The defining reason the boy was mistaken for a genius mage.

Grand Warlord Maltiel, wings flared, soared forth with terrible speed.

“Uh, wait…”

Whoosh!

Maltiel arrived before the boy could even properly brace himself. The monster raised his sharpened claws.

Compressed air exploded outwards, bringing a vast shockwave. A ringing filled the ears, and soldiers, facing the sudden appearance of the Grand Warlord at the rear of their formation, rushed forward, swords and shields raised.

Thwack!

The Grand Warlord’s claws met a thin barrier. The grace of the spirits once again saved the boy’s life.

“It has been a while. You’ve become quite famous in the meantime.”

“General!”

Rex, standing next to the boy, hastily raised his massive axe, swinging it towards the Grand Warlord’s neck. At that moment, Maltiel’s jet-black wings shifted, becoming as sharp as awls, and thrust towards Rex’s abdomen.

Rex didn’t seem to consider dodging.

It seemed more important to him to somehow land an attack on the Grand Warlord before him, protecting the boy, than to prevent a gaping hole from forming in his stomach.

‘The barrier will end soon. I need to use Bloom. Skip the chanting of the spell and magic name…’

“Grisha!”

Bell’s voice reached the boy’s ear as he hurriedly began converting the magic within him into an electric current.

“…And thus, protect us!”

Grisha’s urgent prayer followed close behind.

Beneath the blue shield, a shield of yellow light spread, adding another layer of protection.

* * *

*Klang!*

Grisha, it seemed, had not only shielded the boy, but had conjured the same kind of ward for Rex as well.

Sharply hewn wings shattered against the yellow barrier, while Rex’s massive axe continued its descent toward Maltiel’s neck.

“…May your blades deliver darkness, may they usher in the light. Today, let us wield these swords, destined to rust and fade, with glorious purpose.”

Grisha did not cease his incantation.

The brilliant yellow light that protected Rex was drawn into the edge of the massive axe he wielded.

Gathered at the fearsomely honed blade, particles of light vibrated in a fine tremor, like that of a chainsaw. Finally, Rex’s axe met Maltiel’s neck, and the Grand Duke’s tough, hardened skin split as easily as tofu.

“Tch.”

Even with his head severed, Maltiel did not utter a scream.

With a click of the tongue, a new body sprouted from the stump of his neck. Rex, as if determined not to waste the opportunity, swung his brilliantly glowing axe in rapid succession.

“Well, to be honest, I didn’t expect much… but seeing it up close, I find myself feeling a pang of regret.”

Maltiel spoke as he created distance between himself and Rex’s shining axe.

As the Grand Duke, wearing a mocking smile, ascended, mages and archers unleashed a torrent of fire upon him. In response, the infantry raised their shields high and quickly formed ranks.

*Wait.*

Gazing at the backs of the soldiers that filled his vision, the boy sensed something was amiss. The soldiers who rushed to defend him were undoubtedly the infantry escorting Grisha and Bel.

*Then who is protecting Bel and Grisha…?*

“Got you.”

Grand Duke Mikael provided the answer to the boy’s chilling question.

“…”

Bel, hearing a voice behind her back, abruptly turned her head. There, having just clawed its way up through the floor, stood a blue-skinned monstrosity.

The monster held a light, as black as pitch, in its hand.

“Not a bad gambit, considering you’re cornered on the precipice, wouldn’t you say?”

Maltiel, elevated high above, peered down with a sinister smile.

For the Allied Forces, the boy was a crucial asset, one whose life must be preserved at all costs. Thus, Bel had ordered the guards protecting her and Grisha to rush to the boy’s aid at the first sign of danger.

That order proved to be their undoing.

The soldiers, who should have remained guarding Bel and Grisha, broke formation and charged toward the boy to intercept the Grand Duke’s sudden assault. This left the mage and the cleric exposed to the enemy’s attack in a preposterous oversight.

“Now, beyond this lies the complete unknown.”

This single move, this all-or-nothing wager Maltiel had laid down, was enough to tear a hole in Bel’s carefully constructed plan.