Border Village (4)
The battle erupted without warning.
Thwack!
The air was sliced by the sound of wings, and the first casualty was one of the dark sorcerers, his chest caving in.
“Skel! Damn you, witch!”
Before the other sorcerer could even raise his staff, shocked by his comrade’s fall, a disc of light flew straight for his forehead.
Flash—
Just as the disc was about to hit, a shimmering green shield spell materialized, deflecting the attack. The disc veered off, slicing off an ear before clattering to the ground.
”······.”
Dalen glanced back at the insignia on the dagger, then turned to Lucia, who shrugged.
“I tried mimicking your style, Dalen. It seems effective against dark sorcerers.”
“Is that so.”
Dalen scratched his chin. The demon slayer he knew didn’t rely on throwing daggers.
‘No matter.’
The more variables, the better. It meant they were straying further from a predetermined end, something he’d seen countless times.
“Ha ha ha! What a trick! A paladin throwing daggers like a jester before nobles!”
The dark knight laughed, and Dalen raised an eyebrow. Despite two of their five being dead and a sorcerer incapacitated, the knight seemed unfazed.
‘He must have considered them expendable.’
True dark sorcerers were rare, and even fewer were capable of real combat. They were likely just suppliers of sacrifices and drugs, not true combatants. The real mastermind was the dark knight.
‘Or rather, a middle manager.’
Dalen quickly corrected himself. The description from interrogating the lower-ranking member of the Dark Moon Order didn’t match anyone here.
Small build. Nondescript robe.
If she were here, Dalen wouldn’t be so relaxed.
“So, you’re the demon slayer? Let’s see if your little daggers can touch the beloved of Raphaelem, the fusion of devourer and consumed, the great maw of the demon Beelzebub!”
Boom.
As Dalen gathered his thoughts, the demon finally emerged from the gates of hell.
Beelzebub, one of Raphaelem’s many demons, was a grotesque toad-like creature.
Four legs like a frog’s hind legs. Two front limbs twisted like human arms.
Its slick skin was covered in sticky mucus, and its body was adorned with the heads, wings, and legs of countless flies, buzzing incessantly.
[A hunter’s corpse found in the flytrap.]
Dalen dismissed the notification that appeared naturally, letting his holy sword hang as he assessed the creature.
Perhaps sensing his gaze.
Buzzzzz—
With an unsettling sound, Beelzebub’s massive form began to rise, hundreds of fly wings on its body flapping in unison.
Its head, dotted with countless tiny eyes, stared down at Dalen, and from within its sagging, molten-like flesh, its enormous maw opened.
[Grooooooar······!!]
It wasn’t human speech. Just a primal scream.
Even that was enough to make the air tremble, a wave of pestilence rushing toward Dalen.
Crash—
A murky green energy from hell, rotting everything it touched.
Yet Dalen didn’t raise his sword.
“Watch out···!”
Lucia shouted, but Dalen merely shrugged and extended his left hand.
Crackle!
Light burst from the gap in his left shoulder armor, forming a translucent barrier that blocked the wave of pestilence.
The green energy, as if hitting an invisible wall, dissipated harmlessly.
“A holy tattoo of plague resistance······. How can this barbarian be a paladin?”
The dark knight’s jaw dropped at the sight. Only then did Dalen raise his sword.
“Racist bastard, let’s have a chat.”
His form blurred.
“O God of War!”
A bright flash shot forth, shaped like a crescent moon.
A holy sword aura, something only paladins could wield, was not just bound to the sword but launched at the enemy.
Boom!
[Arghhh!]
As the aura struck the demon’s slick skin, it writhed and screamed in agony.
Though its hell-forged body wasn’t severed in one blow, the skin, once covered in ichor, was now stripped of its thick hide and flesh.
But the attack didn’t end there.
“Parn! Aim for the legs!”
“Yes!”
Lucia, having sent the novice knight ahead, moved lightly. With a few steps, she naturally leaped onto the earthen wall of a building.
Crash!
Drawing on the power of her holy tattoos, she kicked off, causing the poorly built wall to crumble.
Her form, a streak of lightning, grazed the demon’s face.
A flash of white flame.
The split skin spewing dark green blood.
And.
[Groooaaar!]
A scream befitting its name, the great maw bellowed.
Boom! Boom!
Lucia, her holy tattoos glowing, leapt from walls and rooftops, targeting the demon’s head.
The demon tried to retaliate with its elongated forelimbs, but its strikes only demolished buildings.
“Haaah!”
[Ugh!]
Parn, too, slashed at the demon’s legs with his holy-imbued sword, constantly diverting its attention.
A paladin and a novice knight pushing back a demon’s main body—a sight beyond ordinary comprehension.
Even if Beelzebub was a low-ranking demon, freshly summoned, the battle in the village defied common sense.
“Nox! Obex!”
“Screeeech!”
The fight on the other side was no less extraordinary.
Sienna’s spell unleashed multiple shockwaves, predicting and blocking escape routes.
The shadow elf, struck and sent flying, was then bombarded by a rain of translucent feather blades.
“Ugh! Gah!”
Though the shadow elf quickly evaded with her arts, several feathers had already pierced her limbs.
With no time to writhe in pain, she had to dodge another incoming shock spell.
“···Who are you people?”
The dark knight, his armor torn in places, watched the scene in disbelief.
It was only natural. Their actions could have endangered the entire Bronze District.
Using refugees to distribute drug-laced magic, they had wiped out an entire village.
Their future plans would have been even more catastrophic.
Confident they could handle two paladins, a barbarian mercenary, and an informant from the underworld.
“Enaxagus never mentioned this. How did you amass such power, evading the eyes of the gods···!”
The dark knight raged. Dalen chuckled.
“Hey, pick up your sword.”
“···Are you mocking me to the end? With your skills···.”
“It’s funny hearing a lackey of a dark god talk about mockery.”
“What···?”
There was no answer. Dalen flicked his fingers.
A hatchet flew from his belt, hurtling toward the dark knight.
Clang—!
“Ugh!”
The dark knight barely blocked it with his sword. But it wasn’t over.
The hatchet, deflected and spinning, returned to strike again.
Clang!
Another parry. It spun back, aiming for his head.
Clang—!
Though he deflected it, his shoulder guard was torn. Another flick of the fingers. This time, an upward diagonal strike.
Clang!
Deflected again, it spun back toward the back of his head.
Clang—!
“Ugh!”
With just a flick of his fingers, the hatchet circled the dark knight like it was tethered by an invisible string.
The constant clashing of metal. Sparks flying with each strike.
As time passed, the dark knight’s armor became tattered, and his eyes began to darken.
‘He must be desperate.’
Even for lawless dark sorcerers and knights, there were taboos.
Offering hundreds of souls was one thing, but sacrificing one’s own body and soul was a line not to be crossed.
Dark, smoky tendrils seeped through the torn armor, a clear sign that he had broken the taboo and sold his body and soul to the devil.
And finally.
A crackling sound—
His mind, intoxicated by the infernal magic, snapped.
“Raaaargh!”
With a feral roar, he swatted away the incoming hand axe and charged straight at Daelon.
Though the distance was a good thirty meters, it closed in the blink of an eye.
His limbs and face were smeared with blood, and black magic poured from his eyes, making him look more like a demon incarnate than a man.
And it wasn’t far from the truth. A black sorcerer who sacrifices everything becomes a monster, losing all traces of humanity.
“Dieeeeee!”
His voice echoed with a ghastly resonance as his sword became enveloped in a dark blue aura.
Whoosh—
The sound of his sword slicing through the air was more like it was tearing it apart.
Daelon calmly raised his holy sword to meet the surging black magic that overflowed from the enemy’s blade.
‘Sever it.’
He focused his mind.
The source of his power was a talent he had honed to perfection.
[Rafantella’s Shattering Sword (C)]
A sword technique passed down through the royal family of the Eastern Knight Kingdom. It is an extremely offensive two-handed sword style. Even defense is considered part of the attack, with all focus on sheer destructive power. The creator of this technique was known as the “Storm King,” a legend who could summon storms with his blade.
Mastery 100%
The skill, twisted and newly forged, was merely a conduit for conveying that intent.
‘Rafantella’s Shattering Sword seeks ultimate destruction.’
The essence of the technique was to grind everything before him into dust with overwhelming force.
What Daelon aimed to do was not to spread that destructive power but to condense it.
Crackle—
Space itself seemed to tear.
No, it was more like it was being erased.
The whirlwind contained within the sword focused on a single point, concentrating its destructive force into a localized area.
The result was the annihilation of the magical structure, starting from the tip of the blade.
“Erasure”
Crackle—!
With a sound like static from an old radio, the dark energy clinging to the dark knight’s sword vanished without a trace.
“Wha… what is this…?”
Clang—
The sword shattered in two, flying through the air. The dark knight stared dumbfoundedly at his empty hands.
Daelon swung his sword with a calm demeanor. The dark knight’s body, cleaved through his armor, collapsed onto the damp earth.
And shortly after.
Thud—
Beside the blood-soaked corpse of a shadow elf, the demon’s severed head fell from Lucia’s sword, marking the end of the battle.