Chapter 795 - Again, I've Got the Hang of It
Beelrog was ecstatic.
The feeling of elation spread through his entire body, causing his Will to surge even higher.
A battle that forged iron, blood, and will, making them bloom like fire; an opponent who wagered everything he had in a fight and whose skill did not fall short.
This was the life he desired, his very reason for existence.
—Let us fight.
His will formed intent and made the air tremble.
Unintentionally, a pressure arose, bearing down on his opponents.
But that was fine.
They were not opponents who would retreat or collapse from something like this; it was truly rare to find foes with such a defiant spirit.
In this uncommon moment of battle, Beelrog was intoxicated with joy.
At the same time, a memory of a similarly joyous moment flashed through his mind.
The first was the time he roamed the Demon Realm with the demon nicknamed The last door of the life or 'The Door that Ends Life.'
He had eleven brothers, and every single one of them was mad for battle and strife.
The moments he fought to kill them all and escape the embrace of the demon who claimed to be his father.
Looking at the faces standing before him, determined to fight, reminded him of that time.
Some of those brothers had also joined forces in the end for the sake of survival.
Though they were still no match for him alone.
Black mist flowed from the corners of Beelrog's mouth, coalesced, and then fell to the ground in a lump.
For a human, it would have been like drool pooling and dripping.
Beelrog's gaze turned to the owner of the blue eyes and black hair.
Among them, the one who had transformed his Will into a hardened state to block him stood out the most.
Seeing that man's Will naturally reminded him of when he had faced the Lord of the Thorn Briar Fortress and smashed through the castle wall.
The Thorn Briar Fortress wall had been broken twice, and the first time had been Beelrog's doing.
Beelrog then recalled a third memory, that of his own defeat.
No, it was more that he could never forget it, having replayed it in his mind countless times.
"Go. You don't want to die here right now, do you."
Those were the words of the one who had surpassed him with pure skill.
He, too, had been human.
A human who had cast aside Beelrog—who had intended to fight to the death—and vanished into the deepest parts of the Demon Realm, as if sinking into the abyss of the sea.
He'd said he had received a calling, or something like that.
Through the sentience gained by killing his brothers with force, Beelrog had become a demon.
He had learned to take what he desired for himself.
And yet, a single human had surpassed that version of him with sheer force.
It had happened despite the fact that he had rarely ever lost, even when he lacked reason.
It was just a thought that flashed by as his mind processed at high speed.
Beelrog once again immersed himself in the joy of the present.
No, he had remained intoxicated all along.
For strife was more thrilling and joyous than anything else.
Memories are things that pass by.
What has passed is the past, yesterday.
Beelrog did not dwell in yesterday but lived in today.
—Entertain me more.
He said.
There were three crystals.
If he killed them all before the remaining two were broken, it would be his victory.
If he could seize the accomplishment of survival and victory at the end of this joy and elation, it would be perfect.
***
It had been a battle like perfectly interlocked gears.
The Projectile thrown by Rem had exploded, creating a hole in Beelrog's perception.
The moment he had to consider blocking the projectile, an opening was bound to appear.
But if he had let it go without blocking it, Rem's projectile could have also broken a crystal.
Beelrog had known that, which was why he'd blocked it.
Next, Audin had snatched the fiery whip, neutralizing the whip named Salamander for an instant, and Enkrid had nullified all of Beelrog's attacks.
In that gap, Ragna had changed his Will to one of intense heat.
It was something he'd done without even realizing it himself, but Ragna had altered his Will to match the heat contained within Sunrise.
It was truly in the realm of innate genius.
He had managed to slash the crystal embedded in Beelrog's chest, but he had failed to break it.
Could they fight like that once more?
Was all of this just a coincidence?
Did they just take advantage of Beelrog's carelessness?
Wouldn't it be difficult to seize such an opportunity again?
It would be natural to have such thoughts.
The palm of Audin's left hand was scorched and twisted from the heat, and the heat that had been imbued in Ragna's sword had vanished without a trace.
Rem, maintaining his distance, adjusted the speed of his spinning sling.
The disc, which had been making a whizzing sound, now spun a little slower with a low hum.
If he kept spinning it at high speed, the sling's cord wouldn't be able to withstand it.
Shinar still couldn't find an opening to squeeze into, and no one knew where Jaxen was.
'Did that bastard run away?'
Rem even had such a thought.
Of course, he wasn't serious.
If Jaxen were the type to run, he would have left this group long ago.
In the first place, wasn't he a guy with no reason to remain in a band of mad knights?
Well, the same could be said for Rem himself.
And would Audin, Ragna, or Shinar be any different?
It was the same for Esther, Theresa, Fel, and Ropord.
And for Krais and Dunbakel, too.
There was one reason they had all gathered.
It was because of the man who stood at the center of them all.
They were here because watching him had made them realize something, learn something, and change their perspective on life.
The madman who had led all those changes, who had achieved an impossible dream and yet continued to move forward without stopping, opened his mouth.
"It's okay. I've got the hang of it. I can block it. Let's do it again. We just have to do it again."
In the eyes of this unparalleled madman, who had forgotten feelings like defeat, despair, and frustration, a flame still flickered.
The man who had climbed to the rank of a knight with mediocre talent still did not know how to give up.
He appeared expressionless, but if you looked into his eyes, you could clearly see what he desired.
Of course, Rem, who was a good distance away, couldn't see the man's eyes.
He could only see the back of his head.
But he knew without looking.
'He's probably making those crazy eyes again.'
Eyes full of anticipation, like he was having the time of his life.
And there were things one could know without even looking at his eyes.
His tone was clear and bright.
Not a hint of dark emotion could be felt in his voice.
Was there anyone else in the world who could speak like that at this moment?
There was not.
"Ah, whatever. Let's do it."
Rem muttered with a smile.
What if things went wrong and he died?
He would have to wait for Ayul and his child as a dead man.
He'd probably have to get beaten up by Ayul for the sin of dying first.
Still, at this moment, there was no way not to be intoxicated by the spirit this man was showing.
Yes, let's fight.
Let's fight again.
Slashing Beelrog was not a matter of coincidence, but of inevitability.
If Enkrid believed so, then he would believe it too.
Following Rem's lead.
"His eyes know no fear, so they are steel; his steps know no hesitation, so they are thunder. As the Father Lord watches over him, he shall not be sparing when the Lord extends his hand."
Audin was similarly uplifted and inspired.
The dignity, or pressure, or murderous aura of Beelrog, who stood before them declaring his joy for the fight, was worth less than a single word from his captain.
His captain's righteousness was like a light that pierced even a demon's aura.
As an apostle of the war god, it would be a fine thing to present that demon as the god's pet monster.
"I send a single fawning demon to the side of the lonely Lord."
Audin's prayer continued.
"It's for real."
Enkrid said it once more.
Because he meant it sincerely.
Isn't it proper to say what you truly mean about twice?
The cloth gauntlet wrapped around his left hand had become tattered, so he threw it away.
Now it was a bare hand.
It wasn't just the gauntlet that was ruined.
He had been injured in many places.
The worst of it was his torso.
Even though it was the armor Esther had breathed her magic into, his side was deeply gouged, with a clear stain of blood over it.
If it had been a direct hit, there would have been a large hole in his stomach.
Ragna still hadn't taken his eyes off the Beelrog standing before him.
Without looking away, he opened his mouth.
"Again?"
It was a question.
Enkrid answered him immediately.
"Again."
This was not a question, but an answer filled with conviction.
To coordinate their actions, they needed to know each other's skills and even their minor habits, and they could.
It was thanks to seeing each other as rivals and constantly observing one another to find a way to win.
The condition that they had to win but not kill made them observe even more closely.
This meant they had the conditions to turn coincidence into inevitability once more.
Looking at the situation coolly, one couldn't say things were good, no matter how you spun it.
Audin's left palm sizzled and burned, and Enkrid had lost his gauntlet and was injured.
Was Rem, spinning his sling from afar, alright?
Not at all.
He hadn't been in proper condition to begin with.
Thanks to fighting while protecting Ragna, his body was screaming all over.
Ragna wasn't fine either.
Just because he slept, his exhausted body couldn't become perfectly fine overnight.
Furthermore, Enkrid had already died at Beelrog's hands over a hundred times.
Every attempt had failed, and each time he faced a new today, he had charged in, aware of his own changes and growth.
He had found a few methods and had even seen them as escape routes.
And yet, they all failed.
They all died.
It was a level where the pain might as well have been carved into his bones.
It would be natural to be overwhelmed by the opponent's presence.
In other words, it would be reasonable to feel fear and hesitation.
But in his voice, there wasn't even a crumb of such negative emotions.
"Let's go again."
It was only filled with anticipation.
The Ferryman, watching the situation from within Enkrid's mind, couldn't help but be amazed.
This bastard really seemed like he had never died before.
Moreover, it wasn't that he was relieved because he could repeat the day.
He simply didn't even think about death.
He was just focused on the act of fighting itself.
He fought as if he had never died once, as if this was the first time.
—Again.
The word 'again' was exchanged and filled the air.
Even Beelrog uttered the word.
Based on everything he had learned and experienced so far, a single question arose in Enkrid's mind.
What should I do to defeat my opponent?
When the opponent moves once, I just have to move twice.
Block once and strike once, that's all.
When others swing their sword once, you just have to attack twice.
This wasn't something you could do just by being fast.
If you were just playing within the opponent's combat calculations, being fast would only result in swinging at empty air.
Through his battles with Beelrog and all his experience, Enkrid felt he vaguely knew the answer to the question that had just surfaced.
'I must have superiority not only in speed and power, but also in the understanding and depth of my Will.'
It was about maintaining everything at a high level, like a round circle.
'And then, add my own specialty on top of that.'
It was like the theory he had established before, dividing a knight's skill into intermediate, advanced, and master levels.
It was a repetition of that.
You raise your overall skill as if drawing a circle, then create a specialty from it, and then draw a new circle based on that specialty.
By repeating this endlessly, the initial specialty, which was a high-level technique, becomes ingrained as a basic skill.
'Repeat, and repeat again.'
This was the path to becoming a knight and a monster.
In the first place, becoming a knight was also the result of repeating such an act.
And right now, a monster who had insanely repeated the process of creating and breaking that circle was before his eyes.
Beelrog.
And that creature had done even more.
'He uses his entire body as a weapon.'
It was something only a being that had evolved from a monster to a demon could do.
His skin itself had a different density and strength, so it could be used as a weapon.
It was probably on a similar level to the body reinforcement used by some exceptionally talented giants.
If elves used their spirit energy as a weapon and the warriors of the West used their descended weapons, giants would sometimes refine their Will into a part of their body to use it.
And giants called it Fury, not Will.
'Audin could probably do it too.'
The Holy Light Armor was a weapon in itself.
The point was this.
Fists, feet, elbows, fingers—everything becomes a weapon.
Enkrid's gaze had never left Beelrog's eyes, where flames spun round and round, but he had also seen that his tail was hanging limp.
It was the process of his vision opening up, taking in even the miscellaneous information from his surroundings and including it in his calculations.
'If he fights using his whole body as a weapon while maintaining distance with minimal strength and movement…'
Beelrog's movements were always on an optimal path.
That was a fact he learned better the more he fought him.
Moreover, he had even stolen and learned some of his attack patterns by watching them.
As a result of all this, when others swung their sword once, Beelrog could swing his sword or hand three, even four times.
In that case, trivial calculations would collapse.
Beelrog did just that.
In other words, his attacks couldn't all be blocked through calculation.
Still, he had the hang of it.
Thoughts just grazed his mind like sparks.
He was only breaking down and accepting the thoughts that arose in an instant due to high-speed thinking.
In reality, this too was just a part of the idle thoughts floating like oil on water.
Enkrid had already been focusing all his senses on the monster's movements from a moment ago.
The thoughts that had flowed like sparks shattered into pieces.
It was because his opponent had moved.
***
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