The Battle of the Sanctuary (2)
“Hey.”
Dalen called out to the demon.
[Yes, Master!]
“Can you devour that thing?”
[That thing, you say…? Ah, I see.]
Locked in a standoff with the vice-captain, Dalen couldn’t afford to be verbose. Yet, Arvor, the demon bound to his soul, quickly grasped his intent.
Dalen gestured toward the black crystal behind him—the cursed core that two holy knights were desperately trying to dismantle.
The demon, hidden in a pocket dimension, pondered for a moment before responding in a slightly reluctant tone.
[…It’s possible.]
“Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.”
Defeating the vice-captain wouldn’t end the battle. As long as the cursed core remained intact, the special forces and crusaders would remain under its spell.
Not that Dalen was worried about losing. Despite the formidable strength of the hundreds of special forces knights and crusaders, Dalen had long surpassed human limits. Moreover, reinforcements led by the order’s captain were stationed outside the fortress.
His goal was to minimize the damage to the order and prevent a future that edged closer to ruin.
[However, the core is so intricately woven with various types of magic that I’ll have to use all the power I gained a few days ago…]
“Then get to work. As soon as I engage him, devour it.”
[…]
The demon let out a disgruntled sigh. Dalen refocused on the task at hand.
He had given the order, and the demon would comply. That was the power of the relic.
“You are arrogant, warrior. Do you think salvation will come to a lowly barbarian like you, even if the gods are watching?”
The vice-captain raised his sword. The translucent blade shimmered with a blue aura.
“I didn’t know the god of war was a racist. Unless you’re just a heretic. The latter seems more plausible.”
Dalen smirked, shifting his right foot back slightly. His left foot angled slightly, while his right bore more weight. He held his sword with both hands at chest height, its tip aimed at his opponent’s head.
It wasn’t a stance from any particular swordsmanship style; it was a posture that had naturally developed through accumulated skill and experience.
The vice-captain’s eyes flickered with interest, and a slight smile tugged at his lips.
“Ah, so you’ve tasted the essence of swordsmanship. In that case…”
Boom—!
The weight on Dalen’s left foot transformed into superhuman strength, shattering the stone floor beneath him.
Dalen’s form shot forward with the speed of an arrow fired from a powerful crossbow.
”…Hup!”
The vice-captain’s words were cut off, his breath catching as he barely managed to raise his sword.
Without hesitation, Dalen swung his holy sword down. At the same time, he sensed the demon emerging from its pocket dimension to engulf the cursed core.
“What in the world!”
The sight of a demon twice the size of a man devouring the cursed core filled the vice-captain’s eyes with shock.
Whoosh—!
A storm followed the trajectory of Dalen’s holy sword, filling the vice-captain’s vision.
Swords clashed.
They targeted vital points with dazzling skill, pressed down with force, disrupted the delicate balance of power, and instead of retrieving the flowing sword tip, struck with the pommel in a continuous exchange of offense and defense.
In mere moments, dozens of sword strikes were exchanged, each aiming for the other’s neck, head, heart, and wrists in a fierce contest.
It wasn’t just a battle of speed or strength.
It was a contest of experience in wielding a sword, the agility to adapt on the fly, and the mental acuity to predict the opponent’s next move and foot placement.
Clang! Boom—!
Eleven consecutive exchanges of sword strikes.
At the end of the entwined sword paths, Dalen stomped the ground with his foot.
Crack—!
In that instant of true movement, a fiery armor enveloped his leather boots and shin guards.
As he stepped forward, the stone floor shattered, and flames began to flicker in the cracks of the broken stone.
“Hup!”
Unable to withstand the collapse of balance and the rising heat, the vice-captain leaped high into the air.
Dalen seized the opportunity.
With a leap skill, he shattered the ground once more, catching up to his opponent and unleashing a thunderous sword strike.
A flash of light and a peal of thunder shook the armory, as a bolt of lightning crashed through the sanctuary’s roof.
“Thunder Strike.”
Boom—!
The light that filled the armory vanished in an instant.
Landing on the ground, Dalen immediately assumed a stance, tracking his opponent’s presence.
Guided by senses sharper than sight, he pointed his sword beyond the fading flash.
”…Ugh.”
Amazingly, Vice-Captain Everlock still stood, his sword aimed at Dalen.
“How can a mere barbarian… wield the god’s lightning…”
He was far from unscathed.
His armor and skin were charred black in places.
One eye, struck directly by the flash, oozed beneath a closed eyelid, and the exposed flesh of his burns emitted a pungent burnt smell.
From his ruptured side, where armor and flesh had burst open, a half-broken rib barely held in his spilling entrails.
Anyone could see he was gravely wounded.
Yet Dalen didn’t rush in recklessly.
”…And you even know the power of my holy sword.”
Sssss…
As the vice-captain finished speaking, his sword glowed, rapidly healing all his wounds.
Crack! Snap!
Simultaneously, the blue aura surrounding him menacingly scraped against the sanctuary’s stone floor.
Dalen watched the vice-captain’s sword, which scattered brilliant light.
“The third holy sword, Numisrak.”
A miracle that rapidly healed any mortal wound the moment its wielder was injured.
And a powerful holy sword that attacked enemies who interfered with the healing process with an aura proportional to the wounds.
“Do you see? You cannot defeat me, barbarian. No matter how much your sword tears my flesh, the god’s grace will wash away all wounds. I will never die.”
The vice-captain wore a confident smile. Dalen snorted.
He twirled his holy sword with a nonchalant expression.
“Let’s see if you can regenerate even if your head is severed.”
Dalen stepped forward. The vice-captain involuntarily retreated.
Dalen chuckled at the sight. Of course, he’d be scared. Despite his feigned composure, his body wasn’t fully recovered.
Thanks to the holy sword’s incredible healing power, he only appeared unscathed on the surface.
The aftermath of the thunder strike was still gnawing at his insides, making his body creak.
“Even a low-tier demon’s regeneration was nullified; overcoming it with a holy sword you can’t fully wield is impossible.”
“He’s gone!”
“Where’s the demon? Did it vanish too?”
The commotion from the holy knights behind him reached his ears. Arvor had devoured the cursed core.
The demon, having returned to its pocket dimension, reported in a weak voice.
[Master, mission… accomplished…]
The demon fainted from overexertion.
As the brainwashing lifted, the special forces and crusaders, momentarily shocked into unconsciousness, began to collapse.
“This, this…!”
“I’ll help.”
The vice-captain’s voice was filled with panic. The tide of battle had clearly turned.
With the brainwashed knights collapsing, Lucia, who had been holding them at bay, joined Dalen’s side.
“How could this…”
The vice-captain couldn’t hide his bewilderment. He continued to retreat, step by step. Dalen grinned fiercely.
It was then.
[How foolish and insignificant. Even with the power granted by the Azure Scale, to be defeated and grovel before a mere human…]
Behind the retreating vice-captain.
A hooded figure, who had appeared out of nowhere, blocked his retreat with a firm stance.
No one sensed its presence.
Not until the hooded figure appeared, or rather, until it spoke its first words.
The figure, who had seemingly materialized out of thin air, placed a slender hand on the vice-captain’s back and spoke.
[If the Azure Scale hadn’t made a deal with Enaxagus through the witch, I wouldn’t have bothered to save your worthless life.]
“Who, who are you…”
The vice-captain turned his head. Or tried to.
But as he turned halfway, a strange magic flickered, and his body vanished.
As if he had never been there, his presence was wiped clean.
Lucia’s eyes widened at the sudden phenomenon.
“Who are you!”
[Tsk. Such insignificant insects.]
The hooded figure waved a hand dismissively.
It turned its gaze from Lucia to the chaotic armory and the knights, who were slowly rising as the brainwashing wore off.
Its presence remained faint.
Sensing something amiss, Lucia ignited white flames on her sword.
“Reveal your identity immediately, or face charges of trespassing on the holy knights’ territory.”
“No. Stand down.”
It was Dalen who stepped in her way.
“This isn’t something you can handle yet.”
His large, firm hand gently pulled her back by the shoulder.
Hesitating at his touch, Lucia stepped aside, allowing Dalen to stride forward, brandishing his holy sword.
He knew.
He knew exactly who the hooded figure was and just how powerful they were.
Even setting aside the fact that this being had appeared out of nowhere, without anyone present sensing its arrival.
[We have discovered the body of a warrior devoured by the Azure-scaled Wyvern.]
The translucent letters hovering above revealed the creature’s identity.
‘A wyvern.’
Not a true dragon.
A creature of mystery, far inferior to those that could summon fire and lightning with a mere flap of their wings.
Yet, despite this, Dalen was the only one here capable of facing it.
And even he had to give it his all, with no room to protect anyone else.
[Hmm.]
The creature tilted its head slightly as it looked at Dalen.
Beneath the hood, its slit-pupiled eyes glowed faintly with magical light.
[Upon closer inspection, you’re quite large for an insect.]
It spoke.
[In that case, I should crush you before you grow any larger.]
The air shifted. The presence that had seemed almost nonexistent became unmistakably clear.
The thin hand glimpsed beneath the wide sleeve transformed into a massive, scaly claw.
What had appeared to be an ordinary hooded robe now seemed like an illusion, revealing taut, membranous wings.
Its very presence became a terror that engulfed the sanctuary.
The special forces paladins, who had just regained consciousness after being freed from their trance, staggered and collapsed once more.
“Ugh…”
Even Lucia, her eyes blazing with holy power, winced and took a few steps back from the overwhelming presence.
In the stark contrast between predator and prey, Dalen wore a confident smile.
He spoke.
“I wasn’t planning on earning the title of Dragon Slayer just yet.”
[…What?]
The dragon questioned, lowering its head slowly from the ceiling.
Its gleaming yellow eyes burned with the unique, searing magic of dragons.
But Dalen felt no fear.
The dragon blood pulsing in his veins, though only a fraction, was a testament to a being greater than the creature before him.
“I just happened to perfect a new skill. You seem like the perfect test subject.”
[I can’t understand such lowly language…]
The dragon couldn’t finish its sentence.
Boom—!
With a thunderous roar, a small hand axe transformed into a massive flash of light, hurtling toward it.
Beyond the blinding light.
In the dragon’s vertically slit, gleaming yellow eyes, the ground caved in as the warrior’s form soared upward.