The God of Water (1)
”…Sicelacia.”
The knight commander muttered under his breath.
Amidst the kaleidoscope of explosions covering the swamp, shadows loomed heavily over his helmet.
“I transcended the limits of a mere swordsman long ago.”
His sword, too, was not immune to the power of the explosive force. The blade, tinged with a faint blue light, trembled ever so slightly even now.
Yet, unlike the other knights, the only reaction from his sword was a subtle quiver. The knight commander glanced back at the swamp, now settling from the chaos, and continued speaking.
“I can hear the will of the sword, and it understands my heart.”
His gauntleted hand slowly raised the sword.
As he gripped it tighter, the faint tremor ceased entirely.
“I don’t know how you mastered the ancient incantations even the royal family couldn’t unearth, but such tricks won’t work on me.”
“Tricks, you say? Won’t your fallen subordinates feel wronged by such ‘tricks’?”
”…Sacrifices are sometimes necessary for the greater good.”
The knight commander grasped his sword with both hands.
“But it is through such sacrifices that the will of the gods is ultimately fulfilled.”
“Rubbish.”
And as Dalen laughed, his figure vanished.
Boom—!
A half-beat later, a shockwave reverberated through the area.
The ground, half-swamp, erupted with a thud, and a blurred metallic gleam arced swiftly from the side.
“Domain Unleashed: The Dark Sword of the All-God, Bathed in the Light of Dawn.”
The knight commander didn’t hesitate to unleash his domain.
Despite his armor, a dim light followed his agile steps.
In the midst of the radiant spectacle surrounding his armor, the sword he held began to be enveloped in a deep, dark aura.
A stark contrast to the usual approach of revealing one’s hand gradually, engaging in a battle of wits typical of transcendents.
Perhaps it was his role as an assassin, despite being knighted, that led him to swiftly eliminate his target.
If the opponent was going all out from the start, there was no reason for him to hold back either.
“Domain Unleashed: The Forge Where the Dragon’s Breath Scatters.”
The swamp shattered, and the legacy of the blacksmith Dallucahim rose.
From within the towering chimney-like forge, dozens of weapons soared into the air.
A jet-black spear. An axe with a wavy blade.
A sword brimming with electricity. Plate armor covered in dozens of magical inscriptions.
Swoosh—!
At Dalen’s gesture, they all flew, targeting the knight commander’s blind spots without hesitation.
“Master of All Weapons.”
The miracle reached by the blacksmith who never let go of his hammer and sword, even in death, over an eternity.
Though not yet fully mastered, it was the most effective move for this moment.
Clang!
The knight commander’s breastplate deflected the dark spear. He advanced, bouncing the axe blade off his shoulder armor.
“In the light of the dawning day, no blade can harm me!”
The knight commander roared, closing the distance in a low stance.
In that brief charge, more than ten weapons struck his armor, but they all bounced off the light emanating from it.
“Thanks for the tip.”
Dalen grinned fiercely, flicking his fingers downward.
Swoosh—Thud!
A sword embedded in the ground between them unleashed a blinding surge of electricity.
Crackle—!
A storm of lightning swept through the area.
The moisture in the swamp-like ground evaporated, and the hardened stones shattered under the emerald-green electric storm.
Dalen stood nonchalantly in the eye of the storm, lightly gripping his holy sword.
Having absorbed the power of Deltarion, he had mastered the pinnacle of lightning magic. The knowledge and abilities left by the legendary lightning mage were not so flimsy as to be swept away by his own storm.
“You’re holding up well.”
But the knight, who had reached the fifth rank with his sword, was no less formidable.
In the aftermath of the lightning storm, the knight commander stood a few meters back, unscathed.
”…Do you think I’ve never beheaded a mage with my dark sword? I can withstand such tricks countless times.”
The knight commander exuded confidence through the slits of his helmet.
“Shall we see how long you can endure those tricks?”
As Dalen nodded slightly, the weapons hovering in the air rained down once more.
Crack!
A wooden shield split vertically under the dark aura of the sword.
Crash—
The armor, covered in magical inscriptions, crumpled and collapsed under a direct hit.
Ratatatatata!
The relentless assault of weapons gave no respite.
Each one was a relic-level weapon.
Explosions of magic and swirling energy turned the repeatedly overturned ground into a collapsing chaos.
In the midst of this pandemonium, the knight commander, clad in armor of light, dodged what he could and blocked what he couldn’t, advancing relentlessly.
[…Impressive.]
Even the ancient dragon, observing quietly, murmured in admiration.
It was the quintessential image of a knight, relying on a single sword to create a grand domain.
In truth, the knight commander’s fighting style was subtly different from the battles Dalen had experienced with other transcendents.
This wasn’t a battle against a mage who overturned the area with wide-ranging spells.
Nor was it a confrontation with a demon of extraordinary size and strength.
‘The range of power isn’t vast. But it’s concentrated.’
The power to manifest one’s own world into reality.
Though the total power was worthy of a domain, its scope was limited to his armor and sword.
Conversely, it meant that a mental image strong enough to establish a new law was concentrated and infused into his sword and armor.
”…”
What kind of mental image must one hold to dream of such a scene?
For Dalen, reaching beyond his current rank, it was a natural curiosity.
But there was no time to dwell on such thoughts.
Having already cast two large-scale spells, Felber was bombarding the remaining priests with more incantations to support Dalen.
In battle, a moment’s hesitation could spell disaster for an ally.
As Dalen gathered his thoughts and looked up, the knight commander was already upon him.
“To be distracted with the enemy before you!”
Swish—
The sword was within reach.
A straightened shoulder and arm, the longsword thrust from its end.
In stark contrast to the dazzling armor, the darkness on the sword deepened momentarily.
Dalen raised his axe fluidly. It was a natural motion to deflect the sword and follow up with a counterattack.
”…Victory is mine.”
But as the sword and axe met, a voice of certainty echoed from within the knight commander’s helmet.
Slash—!
The sword, as if an illusion, passed through the axe blade and pierced Dalen’s chest.
”…”
A sudden silence fell over the area. The two figures stood frozen.
The sword, imbued with dark energy, had reached its target. The knight commander’s hand trembled slightly.
And from the gap in his helmet, a low voice seeped through.
“So that’s your ability. Quite novel.”
“How…how is this possible…”
The knight commander’s head turned stiffly, like a broken doll.
Ignoring his muttering, Dalen stroked his chin and spoke.
“Armor that deflects all blades, and a sword that passes through them. Quite the perfect combination.”
“It was real. The axe was never…an illusion.”
“Charging so recklessly, relying solely on sturdy armor, it was clear there was another trick hidden in that sword, wasn’t it?”
Whoosh!
As soon as he finished speaking, Dalen’s body crumbled.
“Domain Unleashed: The Ashen Sky at the End.”
At some point, concentric circles of ash-gray ripples spread from the ground beneath him, and the clouds above turned a sooty gray.
“Eightfold Dispersal.”
The body pierced by the sword dissolved into an ash-gray shadow.
And in the next moment, eight Dalen figures appeared, surrounding the knight commander.
“What, what is this? An illusion? No, they’re all real…how is this possible?”
Each figure wielded a different weapon.
Even the knight commander, an assassin, found it difficult to discern which was real and which was fake.
Unbeknownst to him, each one was essentially a physical clone.
The relic weapons they held were also from the forge, making them a superhuman force armed with relics as long as the domain was maintained.
“Breaking through the opponent’s defenses with desperate force, making it feel like a final blow, and then ignoring the enemy’s weapon as they carelessly deflect it, striking a vital point. Quite a clever bluff.”
”…”
“But it’s true that you’ve come to rely on that power. Dodging the barrage of magical weapons, you’ve lost the ability to distinguish between real and illusionary foes. So instead, you focused on whether the weapon in your hand was real.”
Dalen chuckled softly, finding some amusement in the situation.
Here he was, offering advice to a fifth-rank swordsman. But it wasn’t just to mock his opponent.
This victory wasn’t achieved through sheer strength alone.
Whether it was ‘The Sky of the Closed Snow Mountain,’ ‘The Ashen Sky of the End,’ or ‘The Forge Where the Dragon’s Breath Scatters’—even if he possessed just one of these domains, would he have secured victory so easily?
If not for the countless challenges he had overcome to gather as many possibilities as he could, this battle would have required him to brace for severe injuries.
“Return Blade.”
With a snap!
The axe that had been embedded in the ground vanished, reappearing in Dalen’s empty left hand.
He tucked the axe into his belt and gripped the holy sword with both hands.
The third holy sword once belonged to the hero of the Paladin Order, Lerredona, and the mysterious sword she forged after years of training.
Anyone familiar with both would recognize that Dalen had reached a level where he could manipulate mystical forces.
And the reason he revealed this was akin to the unnecessary words he had spoken earlier in front of the knight commander.
”…”
The air grew eerily still.
A sudden breeze swept through the scorched road and the surrounding forest.
The salty tang of the sea tickled his nose, and a bitter taste lingered in his mouth.
Dalen turned his gaze toward the fallen priests.
The priests who had fought to the bitter end were now a shattered mess, victims of Felber’s spell wielding the dragon bone staff.
“Enough with the theatrics.”
Dalen addressed the heap of bodies.
“Will you just stand by and watch as your devout follower loses their head at my hands?”
[All the citizens of the Empire are devotees of the Pantheon, and the whole world bows to the doctrine of the gods.]
A voice echoed from the pile of corpses.
Amidst the mangled bodies, a bloodied priestess slowly rose.
[The entire continent will soon know the mercy of the Pantheon. Losing one follower is of little consequence.]
Splash.
The sound of footsteps on water.
[However.]
A monotonous ripple spread across the solid ground.
Her broken and crushed body was miraculously healed in an instant. The priestess removed her deeply drawn hood, revealing her face.
[We cannot allow a heretic who threatens our faith to go unchecked. Especially one who, as a mere mortal, harbors and wields multiple domains, standing on the threshold of demigodhood.]
Her eyes sparkled like clear water, her face pale yet radiating a divine glow.
The priestess, clad in flowing robes, spread her arms wide and began to rise into the air.
[I am Sissela, one of the seven principal deities of the Pantheon and the mother of all rivers and seas. Here and now, I shall personally punish the heretic through the body of my servant.]