Chapter 223: Choices of Possibility (4)
”…I am Bukvan, Captain of the Twilight Knights.”
The captain repeated his name with a slightly reluctant tone. Considering he had just been insulted right after introductions, his reaction was surprisingly calm.
Clink.
As he removed his ornate helmet, long auburn hair cascaded down his shoulders like a waterfall. He appeared to be at the cusp between youth and middle age, his face rugged and marked with scars, the most prominent one slashing across his left eye.
Dalen nodded as he recognized the man’s face.
”…I see.”
Bukvan, the Silver Mask Mercenary.
Dalen knew both the face and the name well.
‘When I first arrived in the Labyrinth City, I used his name to make contact with Sienna.’
Back then, Dalen had used a secret code to summon Sienna as soon as he visited the Crow’s Nest. The code, a specific sequence of knocks, was something she only shared with those she considered true friends.
When she demanded to know how he knew it, Dalen had smoothed things over by dropping Bukvan’s name. He could do so openly in front of Sienna, the most skilled information broker, for one simple reason.
‘Bukvan was supposed to have died by the mid-point of the story.’
Bukvan’s identity as a Silver Mask Mercenary was a temporary cover. In truth, he was an imperial knight working in the intelligence division of the Twilight Knights. Sienna didn’t know this because, at the time, her information network hadn’t yet extended beyond the Labyrinth City.
‘Originally, he was supposed to return to the knights after his mission, become a reconnaissance leader, and patrol the borders of the Vampire Count’s territory.’
He was meant to die during a mysterious ambush while leading a patrol, and the Empire would discover that vampires were behind it. This event would ignite the Second Vampire War, setting the stage for the latter half of the story.
‘But this time, there wasn’t even time for that. The mid and late stages followed right after the tutorial.’
The pace of this world’s end was unprecedentedly fast, even among hundreds of playthroughs. While it wasn’t as monumental as the Vampire War, dozens of key events were skipped.
Unlike the game, reality moved organically, so it wasn’t strange for someone who should have died to survive.
‘In a way, Bukvan is similar to Felber and Volkmar.’
He was supposed to die but lived on. Not only that, he flourished in ways the game never allowed.
The chaos of monster invasions and war created an environment ripe for change in the hierarchy, but not just anyone could rise to the rank of knight captain. He must have demonstrated exceptional talent or achieved feats that shook the Empire’s fate.
“You seem deep in thought. Are you wondering why I dismissed the knights?”
”…Let’s say I am.”
“The god of light I serve wishes to claim your head personally.”
Well, isn’t that something? And now he’s a priest too?
At the captain’s grim declaration, Dalen chuckled and drew an axe from his belt.
“I’ve always been curious about one thing.”
“About what?”
“How far the possibilities I’ve created can reach.”
Since arriving in this world, Dalen had gained two possibilities. One was his own body and mind, growing faster than ever by learning from repeated failures beyond the monitor. The other was the potential of other souls, inadvertently nurtured by the altered paths he created with his power.
The former was his own strength, so he had a grasp of its growth and limits. But the latter was unpredictable, even with all the information he had.
As the White-Eyed Seer said, if the river of fate is something even the great demons of hell cannot bend, then how far can the destinies within that river, already twisted and overflowing because of him, extend?
Will it end with the river overflowing its banks, or will it create entirely new tributaries?
Ultimately, once twisted, could these destinies become new paths that avoid their original conclusions, even without Dalen’s help?
“You can’t know all outcomes, no matter how hard you try.”
As the end approached, victory and defeat became increasingly uncertain. The number of survivors dwindled with each repeated attempt, and the final frontier remained unexplored.
Even with unprecedented possibilities in hand, victory was not guaranteed.
“Can this world survive even if I fail? I’ve found myself wondering that.”
The fact that such thoughts had taken root in his mind, once solely focused on his own survival, meant that the connections he’d formed since arriving here had become precious to him.
“Not that I can go around beating up old men or blacksmiths.”
”…You’ve become quite arrogant since being called the hero of prophecy.”
“You said you’re a servant of Pawel? Then I have no reason to hesitate in killing you.”
“A heretic’s response, indeed. Let’s see if you can…!”
Whoosh—
In the breath between words, the axe flew, cutting through the air. It vanished and reappeared right in front of Bukvan, several meters away.
「Return to the Abyss: Ignition」
The axe blade gleamed with holy fire, and the relic’s power within it was about to erupt.
Thud!
“Such petty tricks…!”
Bukvan’s strong grip halted its movement, even as the holy fire threatened to consume his hand and forearm. The axe trembled in his grasp, but he did not let go.
Dalen’s form had already vanished from its original spot.
「Return to the Abyss」
With a flicker of ashen light, he reappeared behind Bukvan.
Boom—!
Thunder roared from beneath his feet.
His opponent was at least fifth-tier, and a priest of Pawel, the foremost god of the pantheon. It was best to defeat him before the sun, half-risen beyond the horizon, fully ascended.
Swoosh—
Adding all the momentum from his spatial leap, Dalen swung his holy sword like a bolt of lightning.
In less than a fraction of a breath, Bukvan twisted his body and swung his sword with his right hand.
Crack──────
The ground split in two the moment their swords clashed.
Rumble, rumble, rumble…!!
The earth flipped, and soil erupted skyward. Waves of dirt and shattered bedrock fragments mixed together.
As the shockwave swept beneath the ground, the terrain within dozens of meters overturned, spewing debris.
It was like a landslide starting from a steep cliff, engulfing everything below.
“What the hell!”
“Ahhh! Everyone, get back!”
The wave of earth buried everything indiscriminately, people and objects alike. The Imperial Army’s formation, surrounded by the torrent several meters high, collapsed in an instant.
Hundreds were buried in the soil, struck down by boulder-sized rocks, or flung far by the explosion’s force.
“Injured! We have injured here!”
“Argh! What are the mages doing…!”
It was a scene of disaster, as if a massive earthquake had struck. Who could imagine that such devastation was caused by a single clash of swords?
Yet the two transcendent beings who had wrought this chaos continued their battle at the epicenter.
Thud, thud, thud, thud…!!
Swords clashed. It wasn’t just an exchange of strikes.
They pushed away the hand gripping the sword, twisted the arm, rammed shoulders to break holds, and flowed with the momentum to slam each other into the ground.
Hands and feet moved ceaselessly, each trying to unbalance the other and seize control of the fight.
It was a battle of those who had transcended their species’ limits, possessing both talent and training.
Zing…!
A sharp pain sliced through his mind like a thin blade.
His senses and intuition constantly scanned his opponent and surroundings, bombarding his brain with an overwhelming amount of information.
It was a duel of intuition beyond calculation and strategy, yet that intuition was born from countless calculations—a paradox of contradictions.
His heated brain and taut muscles predicted every move and trajectory, seeing ten steps ahead without time for deep thought.
”…I’ve heard of it, but seeing it with my own eyes is astonishing! To think sacred fire could rise from the hands of a northern heretic barbarian!”
Even as they exchanged dozens of blows per second, Bukvan smirked and taunted. Dalen mirrored his grin, baring his fangs. Their voices, laced with magic, cut through the noise of clashing swords.
“Got a problem with that?”
“Well, honestly! Whether it’s the war god of the Holy Knights or the barbarian deity worshipped beyond the Frost Plains, they all seem the same to me.”
“If the Holy Knights heard you, they’d have a fit.”
“Those war-crazed relics from centuries ago! Even if I were a demon, I wouldn’t be afraid of them!”
Dalen wondered if Bukvan would still say that after witnessing a golden-haired paladin pierce a demon’s heart with a single strike. He chose not to respond to Bukvan’s last remark.
Instead, he chuckled softly, letting his thoughts drift away, and whispered an incantation under his breath.
“Exi.”
A word crafted by the ancient civilization of the distant western desert.
As his will infused the word, the essence of soul alchemy rippled through the air.
Thwack—
Suddenly, hundreds of weapons began to rise into the sky.
Not only the arms buried or scattered by the waves of earth, but even those still held by surviving soldiers, wrenched free from their grasp and soared upward.
The Twilight Knights, a group of superhumans in their own right, clung desperately to their weapons, but ordinary soldiers couldn’t resist the power of the incantation.
Clatter…
Hundreds of spears and swords glinted crimson in the dawn light.
Even the Twilight Knights who survived the earth’s onslaught, and Bukvan himself, were left gaping at the astonishing sight.
With a flick of Dalen’s finger, the will within the weapons responded to his command.
Whoosh!
The sky was filled with a rain of steel, descending all at once.