Chapter 794 - Faith and Weapons
This was just before Enkrid blocked Beelrog's blade, the very instant before the cogs of the misaligned gears were to lock.
Shinar swung her Leaf Blade at the sparks flying before her, deflecting them.
Clink, sizzle.
The black sparks seemed as if they would burn a part of the Leaf Blade, but the remaining spirit energy extinguished the flame.
'If they stack up, the blades might burn.'
With her spirit energy lacking, it was unavoidable.
Shinar's gaze fixed forward.
She couldn't afford to be hit by even these stray sparks, yet there was a man in front of her, facing them head-on.
Elves, at some point in their lives, face a time when they must burn their very life force.
Yet the man before her seemed to have become the spark itself.
"Good, very good."
The elf's whisper was low.
Dodging the sparks, she swung her Leaf Blade toward the whip.
As she pulled her left foot back, she simultaneously swung the sword in an upward diagonal slash.
The whip twisted like a snake, evading the blade.
Pulling back her sword, Shinar kicked off the ground and retreated.
The swift steps of an elf.
CRACK!
The whip tore through the air, grazing the spot where she had just been.
The green light on the blade of the Leaf Blade in Shinar's hand flickered.
The blinking light seemed precarious, as if the fire would be extinguished at any moment.
'This is not good.'
Her body was not in its normal state.
She couldn't guarantee victory even fighting within a forest, and she had already used up all the spirit energy stored in her sword.
But if she were to falter here, she would never earn the right to stand beside the man who lived like a spark.
While glancing at the fiery whip and Beelrog's movements, which sent shivers down her spine from time to time, Shinar searched for what she could do.
'What is the best I can do right now?'
Cool your head.
Isn't this a time for a cold mind, not a racing heart?
'Am I being helpful right now?'
No.
I don't even dare to intervene in my fiancé's fight.
I can't block that sword for him.
With my current spirit energy, it would be difficult to even buy time.
'If I'm not a help…'
Then at least I shouldn't be a hindrance.
Shinar's steps were light.
Apart from her lack of spirit energy, her martial arts skills were astonishingly excellent.
Kicking a stone on the ground towards the fiery whip, she performed a somersault.
After a few consecutive flips, the whip found an opening and flew towards her like an arrow.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
A series of explosions sounded, and circles of fire bloomed in succession along the whip's trajectory.
It was like a knight's determined thrust.
No, it was also like a javelin thrown with all one's might.
CRASH!
The tip of that whip was blocked again by a shield of layered white light.
Having read its trajectory perfectly, it was blocked precisely at the center of a shield manifested through holy power.
It was something only possible for one who was skilled in both wielding holy power and controlling their body.
"It's called the Holy Light Shield, sister."
The one who blocked it was Audin.
He smiled and widened his field of vision.
He too had seen Enkrid's fight and felt that the spirit within it was no ordinary thing.
'A sturdy stone wall.'
It was as if he had built such a thing inside his body.
It interlocked with the muscles he had trained until now.
'The change in Will.'
Uske and Indules.
The two ancient words described the level of Will's training.
Uske meant to build one's Will by steeling one's resolve until it felt like an unyielding source.
'Indules refers to the transformation of Will.'
Though different from Will, there was a similar concept in holy power.
It was called a Sanctuary Proclamation.
He couldn't use it right now.
An individual's capability was important, but the conditions were quite demanding.
In any case, Audin had witnessed Enkrid's transformation firsthand.
And he had seized the opportunity it created.
He knocked away the fiery whip, which had retreated after striking the shield and was flying in again, with the back of his hand.
The layered holy power on his hand neither melted nor burned in the whip's heat.
Instead, a part of his sleeve caught fire.
Since he couldn't protect all of his clothes, the tattered garments, already ruined from breaking through the castle wall, became even more ragged.
Audin tore off his shirt and threw it away as he parried the whip.
Riiip!
With the sound of tearing seams, his upper body was revealed.
The body, marked with various scars, was proof that the path he had walked had not been easy.
Audin intended to buy time for Shinar.
No one would easily lose focus or break down just because Shinar was caught or injured.
'Still, it would have a psychological effect.'
This was a preemptive measure.
While Enkrid was holding back Beelrog, Audin found his role.
He was to be the weight that balanced the battlefield from its center.
Sometimes on defense, sometimes on offense, he had to become the heart of the battle.
"Father, Lord, I pray you borrow some skill from your side and grant it to me."
It was a time when the god of the scales was needed.
With the strange prayer, the holy light flowing from his entire body shone with a deeper brilliance than before.
The light coalesced, taking the place of his clothes.
It was the Holy Light Armor.
A demonstration that he was fine without armor or clothes.
Thus, Audin stood in the middle of the formation.
The situation was now that Enkrid was blocking Beelrog in the front right, while the fiery whip was probing for an opening from the front.
Enkrid, while blocking Beelrog's sword, fists, and feet, also had to be mindful of the whip's attacks.
He was literally intending to block everything that passed by him.
This was evident from his momentary footwork and the angle at which he twisted his waist.
While Audin took the center, Rem, who was twice as quick-witted, had already leaped far back.
He kept his distance, gauging the interval.
His positioning was a result of that simple thought process.
He hadn't cared for Shinar's well-being from the start.
If she died from something like this, she had no right to be called the captain's fiancée.
As expected, she had found her own role.
Instead of foolishly rushing in to lend a hand, she had wisely retreated.
'Retreating is also a tactic.'
Fighting to the death isn't always the best course of action.
If necessary, one must survive even by throwing sand hidden in one's palm.
Well, one couldn't do that when fighting for honor, but in a battlefield combat, don't they say that the cheers of victory ring out for the survivor, and the goddess of fortune also smiles only upon the living?
There was even a mercenary joke that it's meaningless to see the goddess smile after you're dead.
The god of the battlefield welcomes the dead, but the goddess of fortune always watches over the living.
'So don't feel bad that I'm attacking from a distance.'
Though unnecessary, it was a self-justification that even dragged in the continent's gods.
Rem, along with the thought, unleashed his shamanistic power.
He would be sick for a while after this fight, but now was not the time to worry about such things.
Through Descent, he received the power of a god into his body.
Shamanistic power is the foundation and the vessel.
When emptied, the power of the god fills it.
To be precise, it was less about emptying and more about pouring all his power into strengthening the vessel, but no matter how many times you explain this kind of trick, those who can't do it, can't.
The Western Descent was a feat possible only for a very small fraction of shamanistic clans, the geniuses.
It was as difficult to learn as Indules.
'Advent here.'
Descent is received by the body, Advent by a space or a tool.
A ritual implement made through a devoted ceremony was sufficient as a tool for Advent.
At some point, a strange pattern appeared in Rem's eyes, and his shadow transformed into a figure with long arms and a small physique.
In the West, there are eight divine generals, including Grim, the one the path they had taken was called by.
That is the pinnacle of Western shamanism.
The one he had called as the master of the Descent was one of them.
The ancestor of the slingers, the one who brought down flying divine generals, the small giant 'Sky-Feller.'
He took out a charm carved from jet-black gold, loaded it into a sling, and began to spin it.
Every motion was natural.
Whoosh- Wheeeee!
Two discs appeared in Rem's hands.
However, he couldn't throw them right away.
'Now, show me something interesting.'
He waited.
If he threw it now, he might hit an ally in the back of the head.
No, there was a high probability he would smash an ally's head.
He could tell just by watching from afar.
That thing, Beelrog, was skilled in combat.
It would know how to turn the allied pincer attack into a battlefield advantageous to itself.
Rem gathered all information, including visual, and looked for an opening, but none could be seen.
One cannot navigate through pitch-black darkness without a single ray of moonlight.
It is like losing sense of up and down when falling into a deep lake.
Only when someone grabs your hand and pulls you can you rise to the surface.
As Audin took the center, Ragna stood behind him.
Shinar had fallen back, and Jaxen had vanished without a trace.
The whip, wreathed in flames, lashed out left and right as if alive, flicking its tongue once at Audin, and once at Enkrid.
That tongue was so intensely hot that a mere touch would burn the skin and heat the air.
The air around them had grown thick and heavy.
The acrid smell deepened, pushing back the fragrance Shinar had emitted.
The holy light, instead of spreading wide, enveloped Audin's entire body.
Because of that, it seemed as if Beelrog's shadow encompassed and dominated the entire arena.
Of course, this was all just a feeling, but for someone of a knight's caliber, that feeling could not be ignored.
Suddenly, the creature's movements changed.
To be precise, a warning rang in Rem's senses that Beelrog's sword strike was different from before.
Rem's thoughts accelerated and his pupils dilated.
It was the process of deciphering the information flowing in through his sight.
Beelrog's movements in front of him seemed to stutter.
In an instant, a motion of a different speed began.
The distance between Beelrog's feet changed.
It extended its left foot diagonally backward, stomped the ground with its right, and brought its sword down.
'Overhead cleave.'
Power, speed, and even technical precision.
It was a sword swung at the very edge of its reach, utilizing the length of its arms and legs to the fullest.
A normal overhead cleave would involve stepping forward diagonally with the right foot, but this was done while retreating.
The control of its center of gravity alone showed its masterful skill.
'Even if blocked, he'll be pushed back.'
Something as special as his own Descent had just materialized on Beelrog's sword.
Will had condensed to become a blade.
The creature's two eyes narrowed into long lines and wavered.
The next moment, as the tip of Beelrog's sword was about to strike down on Enkrid's head, Rem had to choose.
'Action or faith?'
Enkrid had said he would block it, and he had told Rem to throw from a distance.
The discs were already prepared, so if he just extended his hand, he could prevent Enkrid from being killed in a single blow.
The discs remained as they were.
In that fleeting moment, in the scene he watched with accelerated thought, Rem endured.
At the same time, Enkrid became a wall made of solid stone.
To be precise, the formless power within him, his Will, had transformed as such.
Enkrid raised his sword diagonally to block Beelrog's sword.
Kiiiiiiiing.
There were no sparks, no explosion.
Instead of a deafening roar that could tear the eardrums, there was only the sound of a harp string snapping between the two swords.
Two formless powers had collided and stopped.
In between them, an opening appeared.
The moment Enkrid blocked the sword, Audin snatched the tip of the fiery whip.
Sizzzzzzle!
A bizarre scene unfolded as the flames burned the holy light.
White smoke rose from Audin's hand that gripped the whip.
'An opening.'
The moment he saw it, he recognized it, and the moment he recognized it, his hands moved on their own.
'Fire Command.'
A projectile carrying the energy of Sky-Feller flew to strike Beelrog on the forehead, but the creature raised its hand to block it.
It had formed its Will—or since it was a demon by birth, one could call it demonic energy—into a shield to block the attack.
'Quite the trickster, you bastard.'
Rem spat out nonsense afterward, and no one paid it any mind.
Ragna drew Sunrise and held it with both hands.
The blade of Sunrise was silent as if asleep.
It didn't radiate heat or glow.
It was because its master had not yet wished for anything.
Amidst the heavy air, Ragna steadied his breath.
And he waited behind Audin's back.
The moment Enkrid blocked Beelrog's attack and Rem's projectile exploded, Ragna moved.
'A single point of focus.'
Since Enkrid said he would block, he would block.
Ragna had not a shred of doubt from the beginning.
Because he believed, he didn't let anything else in his surroundings enter his mind.
He was only looking for a chance to land a single blow.
Donafa, the knight and teacher Enkrid met in the labyrinth, had struggled for decades to hone his specialty, but for Ragna, it was something he could do naturally from birth.
He ignored sounds and limited his vision.
His eyes held only the opponent.
Ragna swung his sword at Beelrog's side.
Enkrid was holding the black-flamed sword in a bind, bolstering his Will.
From right to left, it was a swing that grazed past Enkrid on the right.
A red light began to shimmer on the blade of Sunrise.
Through Ragna's Will, it transformed into a blade carrying super-heated energy.
CRUNCH!
The assault of the blade, which seemed capable of cutting and cleaving through anything, was blocked.
As its sword was bound, Beelrog thrust out its left arm.
A thick bracer emerged from under its skin.
It had hidden an artifact beneath its flesh.
The bracer artifact shattered, and the scream of a vengeful spirit erupted.
The moment he thought it was a failure, Ragna's sword moved once more.
He rotated the sword he had swung from right to left around Beelrog's forearm, making it parallel to the ground.
It was a consecutive strike.
Beelrog was not the only one with technical finesse.
The super-heated blade of Sunrise shifted to the opposite edge, scraping against Beelrog's forearm, but it only scratched the skin, neither cutting nor burning it.
Instead, following the swing, a line of super-heated energy shot straight towards Beelrog's chest.
BOOM!
At that moment, Beelrog wrapped its body with its wings and, balancing on one foot, extended the other.
Ragna ignored it and swung his sword completely.
Enkrid had promised to block it, so he would.
His faith was absolute.
Enkrid did not betray that faith.
Shaking off Surtr, he immediately kicked at Beelrog's ankle.
The explosive sound was that of Enkrid's and Beelrog's feet meeting.
Ragna's Sunrise, too, did not achieve the desired result.
Screeeech.
His blade broke one of Beelrog's crystals but couldn't cut through all of them.
Black blood trickled down a long gash on the creature's chest.
His original intention was to cut three crystals at once, but he had failed.
—It seems I've been seeing blood often these days.
Beelrog spoke nonchalantly as it took its stance.
Blood trickled from Enkrid's nose.
Well, it was a moment where he couldn't afford to care whether blood was flowing or not.
In the brief exchange just now, Enkrid had once again felt Beelrog's true power.
'Are only the sword and whip its weapons?'
To that question, Beelrog had answered with its entire body.
For him, the demon of strife, even a single fingernail was a weapon.
***
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