Midnight Inferno (Part 3)
Telia Trading Guild Master, Achalis Philenom.
When he first heard the news of the death of Delric, the Silver Mask Apostle, he couldn’t believe his ears.
But that was still manageable.
After all, Delric was a disposable pawn, one that could be used and discarded at any time. Unlike the other Silver Mask Apostles who had been preparing for the grand plan for over a decade, Delric had joined less than a year ago.
However, when he heard that even Stray had fallen, Achalis could no longer take the situation lightly.
Stray, though a low-ranking vampire, was an assassin who knew how to use his racial traits more efficiently than anyone else. His death meant that the warrior pursuing them could become a significant obstacle to their grand plan.
And now.
Crash.
As the massive warrior unexpectedly broke through the sanctuary’s wall, Achalis couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh.
‘There was a reason the Grand Apostle decided to accelerate the plan.’
The barbarian warrior strode forward, clad in no armor and wielding only a shabby hand axe. Yet, when that axe gleamed and sliced through the air, Achalis instinctively knew this would be no easy fight.
Clang!
The sound of metal clashing against metal reverberated through the enclosed sanctuary.
As Dalen swung his axe down, Achalis swiftly drew his sword and slashed horizontally.
Swoosh—
He stepped back five paces to absorb the shock, grimacing at the tingling in his hands.
Unlike him, who had retreated five steps, his opponent had only moved back two.
Unable to hide his surprise, Achalis spoke.
“Such monstrous strength. I’d believe it if you said you had the strength of an orc.”
His opponent showed no reaction, merely staring at him with a calm expression.
Gripping his still-trembling sword, Achalis slowly donned his silver mask.
”…No, let me correct myself. It’s more believable to say you’re a giant. Even when I was in the Imperial Knights, I hunted giants, but I’m not sure I could handle you even then.”
Achalis held his sword with both hands and muttered a low incantation.
The power of the sanctuary, which had kept the monsters at bay, weakened, and the tightly shut wooden doors on one side of the sanctuary slowly opened.
Growl.
The sound of heavy breathing.
Hundreds of pairs of yellow eyes glinted in the darkness.
But they needed more time to fully awaken. Achalis laughed bitterly.
Once a vanguard of the Imperial Knights, now reduced to stalling for time until a horde of monsters awoke.
“Come at me. You don’t have much time.”
Yet Achalis was both a knight and a merchant. He could calculate that this was a fight he couldn’t handle alone.
Though his pride as a knight held him back, he couldn’t afford not to make sacrifices for the grand plan.
Achalis angled his sword diagonally, praying that his swordsmanship, which once hunted giants, hadn’t dulled over the years.
“Hmm.”
Dalen scratched his chin. Things were progressing faster than expected.
Though it was a story beyond the monitor, the battle here usually unfolded differently.
The first phase involved beating down the guild master Achalis and wearing down his health. Then, after cutting through the horde of monsters, you faced the rejuvenated guild master in the second and third phases.
‘I’ve never seen them awaken the monsters from the start.’
Even as he thought this, Dalen understood why.
If he were a Silver Mask Apostle, he wouldn’t want to face a barbarian who suddenly broke through the sanctuary wall one-on-one.
It didn’t matter. The plan remained unchanged.
Kill the guild master here, wipe out the horde of monsters, retrieve the body of his old character that had been devoured by the monsters, and set the building ablaze.
Step.
Dalen advanced.
The guild master took half a step back in response.
His plate armor glinted beneath his robe, and his sharp sword caught the flickering torchlight.
Fully armored, the guild master watched for any opening, his stance impeccable.
His background as a retired knight from the Imperial Knights was evident in his formidable presence.
Every position of his feet, the angle of his shoulders, the direction of his sword tip—all created a subtle standoff with Dalen.
”…”
A battle of wits, reading and being read by the slightest muscle movements.
Dalen observed quietly, then simply threw his axe.
Wham!
Clang—!
It wasn’t a calculated move. The guild master swung his sword instinctively.
“What the…!”
The guild master stared in shock as the hand axe spun through the air.
Thud—
Dalen dashed forward, reaching up to snatch the spinning axe.
Without hesitation, he swung it down at the guild master.
Clang!
The descending axe clashed with the sword.
The heavy impact traveled down to the guild master’s shoulders, pressing them down.
Swish—!
As he swung his sword outward to shake off the impact, he saw a rock-like fist coming his way.
The guild master twisted his waist in urgency.
Thud!
“Ugh!”
The fist grazed his face, shattering the edge of his silver mask, and blood dripped from his torn jaw.
Reflexively, the guild master swung his sword horizontally, low and fast.
But the sword strike across his chest was blocked by the returning hand axe.
Clang!
The guild master’s eyes widened again. The axe’s movement seemed to defy inertia, incomprehensible.
Without time to regain his composure, dozens of exchanges followed.
Clang, clang—
Sword and axe clashed, rebounded, and tangled again. They grappled, striking with fists and feet, feigning retreats to exploit openings.
In the brief exchange, Dalen could clearly feel it.
The guild master was a swordmaster unlike any he had faced before.
Though retired long ago, in his prime, the guild master was recognized as a skilled swordsman in the Imperial Knights.
Even after a decade, his solid physique remained steady, and the swordsmanship etched into his body over the years had not eroded.
However.
Thud!
“Ugh…”
Dalen, too, was a master of martial arts derived from the Empire.
“To dent plate armor with bare hands… Are you even human?”
Moreover, his physical abilities surpassed even those of the guild master, an apostle of the evil god.
Gritting his teeth, the guild master charged, swinging his sword down with the intent to cleave Dalen in two.
Clunk.
At the perfect moment, Dalen hooked the axe onto the sword, deflecting it outward.
Whoosh—!
With the guild master’s chest exposed, Dalen’s foot shot forward faster than the axe.
Thud!
The guild master tried to pull his sword back to block, but in that split second, Dalen’s foot struck the hand holding the sword.
Crash!
Once again, with his chest exposed, Dalen leaned forward, driving his elbow into the guild master’s chest with his full weight.
“Argh—!”
Crash!
The guild master rolled across the sanctuary floor. Without the plate armor beneath his robe, he might have died instantly from the blow.
“Enaksa… Tareon!”
Blood spilling from his mouth, he chanted a spell. Flames erupted on the altar at the center of the sanctuary.
Whoosh!
Blue flames blazed fiercely in the air above the altar.
Simultaneously, the hundreds of monsters that had been dormant for so long finally completed their brief awakening and broke free from their confines.
Roar!
Screech!
The horde of monsters charged toward their prey.
[You have discovered the body of a sword-wielding mage.]
Watching the message flicker above, Dalen grinned.
‘If I’m lucky, I might retrieve the body and level up.’
At that moment, a monster at the forefront lunged with its teeth bared.
And the axe gleamed.
Achalis gritted his teeth. He cut the straps and discarded his armor.
Clang! Clatter!
The plate armor fell with a clatter, resembling scrap metal.
It was so dented and battered that it seemed beyond repair, practically scrap metal already.
‘How can a human possess such strength…’
It’s only natural for a hand to break when striking metal barehanded.
Even in the labyrinth city, where superhumans abound, that was common sense, at least in this bronze district.
But the man before him defied that common sense.
To make matters worse, he was also highly skilled in martial arts, specifically the armor combat techniques of Dehaman, which every Imperial knight was required to learn.
Crash!
Dehaman’s armor combat techniques were designed for a single knight to take on multiple light infantry.
Even now, the number of monsters being crushed by his hands and feet exceeded those being cut down by his axe.
Surrounded by hundreds of monsters, yet far from being overwhelmed, the warrior was instead grinding the monsters down.
The sight of him curling his lips into a smile, as if he was enjoying the situation, was enough to send shivers down even the battle-hardened Achales.
Clang! Clatter!
Achales discarded all his armor.
Once he removed the cloth armor beneath the plate armor, all that remained were tattered, loose garments.
Drip.
A viscous liquid, enhancing his regenerative abilities, gushed out from the torn fabric.
The regeneration treatment received by all members of the Silver Mask Order was still fraught with side effects, but its effectiveness was undeniable.
Moreover, Achales’ robust physique could easily withstand those side effects.
Thanks to this, injuries that should have been fatal were healing rapidly, allowing him to rejoin the battle.
His sunken chest and the torn flesh were almost fully restored.
Roar—Screech!
Crash!
Of course, the horde of monsters that had charged at the mercenary was now reduced to less than a third.
The initial plan to collaborate with the monsters had effectively fallen apart.
‘Still, not all the monsters are dead yet, so there’s a chance.’
Achales raised his sword. His heart pounded.
Considering the rate at which the monsters were dying, there was only one chance.
And in his mind, there was only one way to take the mercenary’s head in that single opportunity.
‘The Twin Blades of Skanden.’
The Southern Empire’s knight order.
Among the many secret techniques passed down by countless heroes and warriors who had come through there.
It was a skill he hadn’t used since leaving the order long ago.
With his aging body and declining skills, there was a risk of harming himself.
But.
‘There’s no choice.’
He resolved.
Even if it meant his own downfall and that of his comrades, he would bring down that warrior.
“Inhale—”
He took a deep breath. Every muscle and nerve in his body awakened.
Fewer than twenty monsters remained charging at the mercenary.
As a result, the mercenary’s once unyielding presence was now slightly wavering.
‘Now’s the chance.’
Achales dashed forward.
Thud!
His mask was torn off by the gust. The surroundings stretched like dough being pulled.
It was an explosive acceleration. But the pinnacle of this technique wasn’t in the speed.
Hum—
The sword gripped in both hands. Magic flowed into it.
For swordsmen, the concept of wielding magic was entirely different from that of wizards.
Unlike wizards, who have a systematic education centered around towers and schools, swordsmen’s magic techniques and secret skills are passed down from master to disciple.
Crack!
More than that, the main reason is the risk of the body being destroyed by the backlash of excessive magic infusion, requiring a precarious tightrope walk.
Rip—
Muscles tore. Skin split.
Blood vessels unable to withstand the storm of magic burst, leaving purple blotches from shoulder to arm.
But the payoff was certain.
Whoosh—!
As Achales shot forward like an arrow and extended his sword, his arm and sword seemed to momentarily become two.
No, it wasn’t just an illusion.
The two swords, moving independently, were both real. Not a trick or an illusion.
For a single sword to become two is an impossibility in the material world.
However, the magic infused into his body and sword was enough to warp reality.
The divided swords aimed precisely at the mercenary’s heart and nape.
‘Got it!’
Achales cheered inwardly.
But in the next moment.
Slash!
The hand axe that had just severed a monster’s neck twisted in a bizarre trajectory.
’······!’
There was no magic involved.
It was pure physical strength.
Ignoring inertia and everything else, the hand axe moved with a speed surpassing even the magic-infused sword.
Raised high above his head.
Slice—!
Before Achales’ divided swords could reach their target, the axe descended like lightning, cleaving his upper body diagonally.
Boom!
Like thunder following lightning, the aftermath rumbled through the sanctuary.
Before the blood could drain from his brain, Achales, with his severed upper body, heard a strange muttering as he floated in the air.
“Why is there a sudden insta-kill pattern?”
“Insta… what…?”
He couldn’t hear the answer.
The former knight, now a merchant, lay in two pieces on the stone floor of the sanctuary.