Episode 61: The Hunting Party (2)
Demian stepped outside the camp, ready for the duel.
“This has escalated quickly,” Margata remarked, crossing her arms with a troubled expression.
“Oh, and just so you know, there’s no need to apologize. I wasn’t fond of those guys either,” she added, gesturing with her thumb towards the back. Behind her, Dionysio was preparing for battle.
“They’re such a nuisance, always picking fights,” she continued.
“They’re holding a grudge because Black Snow lost to our master,” someone else chimed in.
“I think so too. Demian, now that it’s come to this, show them what you’re made of. Make sure no one doubts you,” Margata encouraged.
Demian nodded, then suddenly asked, “But why didn’t you doubt me, Sir Margata?”
Even Sanus of the ‘Dazzling Pain,’ who had no grudge against the ‘Scorched Ones,’ had his suspicions about Demian. Yet Margata had trusted him from the start.
“Why? Because Agnes trusts you, so I trust you too,” Margata replied nonchalantly. “Agnes might be a bit naive, but she’s a good judge of character.”
Demian walked into the clearing for the duel.
A crowd had gathered to watch the two combatants face off.
“Are you ready? Brace yourself. The price for insulting our sect is steep,” Dionysio warned, gripping his spear tightly.
Demian merely smirked in response, which only fueled the fire in Dionysio’s eyes.
“Are both of you ready?” Sanus asked, stepping between them.
Given the duel’s roots in sectarian conflict, Sanus, a neutral party, had been chosen to referee.
“Don’t worry about a thing. With us ‘Dazzling Pain’ here, you can fight to your heart’s content. Even if you lose a limb, we’ll patch you right up,” Sanus said with a smile that belied the severity of his words.
“Then let’s begin,” he declared, lowering his raised hand.
As soon as the signal was given, Dionysio enveloped his spear in divine power. Normally, divine power was bright and radiant, but Dionysio’s was the opposite—ashen and dark, like the remnants of a fire.
‘The Blended Blizzard,’ a sect formed by those who had awakened to the power of cold, was known for its chilling abilities. As Dionysio unleashed his power, the temperature around them plummeted, and a gray frost began to spread across the ground.
A bone-chilling cold pressed against Demian, as if he had been thrown into the depths of winter without protection.
‘He seems to have mastered the use of his powers,’ Demian thought.
The main tactic of the ‘Blended Ice’ sect was to create ice shards to pressure their enemies. But that was just a distraction; the true weapon of the ‘Blended Blizzard’ was its ability to sap the body heat of those within its range, slowing their movements.
While Black Snow, one of the five great saints, could freeze enemies to death with just the cold, Dionysio, a mere third-rank paladin, couldn’t reach that level. Still, he was dangerous enough. For a knight of equal rank, enduring the cold would have been a struggle.
But for Demian, this level of cold was hardly a threat. He could simply dispel it with his own magic.
‘There’s an easier way,’ he mused.
Demian opened a pocket dimension and drew out a holy sword. As he unsheathed it, the blade gleamed brilliantly.
“A holy sword? And he’s not even a paladin?”
“Who on earth gave him that sword?” the onlookers gasped.
Margata and Agnes exchanged a glance, pretending to look elsewhere, but Garmal wasn’t about to let it slide.
“Margata! What is the meaning of this? How does an outsider have a holy sword?”
“Why not? It’s not like a holy sword is some grand treasure,” Margata replied casually.
“If the symbol of our order isn’t a grand treasure, then what is?” Garmal retorted.
The released holy sword radiated divine power, dispelling the cold that had been encroaching on Demian’s body. One of the abilities of divine power was to protect its wielder from all harm, even from other divine powers.
“You’re wielding something far beyond your station!” Dionysio growled, his cold aura blocked.
“After I defeat you, I’ll take that sword back!” he declared, channeling his divine power into his spear. The ashen aura enveloped the spearhead as Dionysio charged.
Demian infused his holy sword with magic, and the aura quickly enveloped the blade. He couldn’t help but admire its speed.
‘What an extraordinary sword,’ he thought.
Every weapon had a magic conductivity rate. The cheaper the material, the lower the rate, resulting in greater magic loss and slower aura manifestation. This holy sword, however, had almost no magic loss and incredibly fast aura manifestation, indicating the use of superior materials.
“Let’s see what you’ve got!” Dionysio shouted, thrusting his spear repeatedly as he closed in.
Demian blocked each strike effortlessly, not even blinking. As Dionysio’s relentless attacks were thwarted, his expression hardened.
“You’ve got some skill, I’ll give you that!” Dionysio admitted, but he didn’t relent, launching even more attacks.
Though it seemed like Dionysio had the upper hand with his aggressive assault, the reality was quite the opposite. The paladins watching the duel had already realized this.
“He’s blocking all those attacks without being pushed back at all…”
“He’s not just blocking; he’s countering. And to counter, you must…”
“Predict every attack perfectly…”
The paladins were awestruck by Demian’s display of skill.
“He’s toying with Sir Dionysio,” one remarked.
“I was curious how he managed to kill three of Yuran’s dark mages… Now I understand.”
“There’s a reason Sir Margata insisted on bringing him into the hunting party.”
“It’s a shame. His skill is superior, but he knows too little about the ‘Blended Blizzard.’”
Despite acknowledging Demian’s impressive abilities, the paladins had initially expected Dionysio to win.
“The cold of the ‘Blended Blizzard’ accumulates in the body the more you counter it.”
“At first, it’s bearable, but then it suddenly intensifies.”
The cold emitted by the ‘Blended Blizzard’ could be dispelled with divine power, but the cold compressed into a weapon was not so easily removed.
“He must be reaching his limit by now.”
Contrary to their expectations, Demian showed no signs of slowing down. Instead, it was Dionysio whose breathing grew labored, indicating his stamina was waning.
The paladins were stunned by the turn of events.
“A paladin of the ‘Blended Blizzard’ reaching his limit first?”
“Impossible. Sir Demian should be suffering from the cold…”
The paladins couldn’t comprehend what was happening before their eyes.
“You’re all blind as bats,” Margata shouted triumphantly.
“He’s releasing aura with every clash to dispel the cold.”
Even after Margata’s explanation, the paladins struggled to understand. Dispelling the cold with aura during each of Dionysio’s relentless attacks? Such a feat was beyond the capabilities of even a middle-class knight, let alone a low-class one.
“Sir Margata, that’s…”
“Impossible? But there’s someone doing it right in front of you. If you don’t believe me, ask Garmal.”
All eyes turned to Garmal, who was intently watching Demian.
”…Margata is right,” Garmal confirmed.
The paladins’ jaws dropped in disbelief.
“Damn it!” Dionysio cursed.
“Why isn’t it working?”
Dionysio had no idea why his cold wasn’t affecting Demian.
“Hey,” Demian called out amidst their exchange of blows.
“Is this all you’ve got?”
At first, Dionysio didn’t understand why Demian was saying such things.
“If you’ve got any tricks left, now’s the time to use them. Otherwise, no one will believe it.”
It was only after hearing those words that Dionysio realized Demian’s intent.
“That no matter how many like you come at me, it won’t make a difference.”
His grip on the spear tightened, rage boiling within him.
”…If you want to see it, I’ll show you everything!”
Dionysio slammed his spear into the ground, releasing all his divine power. It spread across the ground, transforming into cold.
Ice spears erupted from the ground, aiming to impale Demian.
The technique—Thorn Field.
There was no escape. Even if he dodged, a second attack awaited. Once the ice spears emerged, they would explode, scattering cold and shards everywhere.
Just as Dionysio was certain of his victory, Demian took a step forward.
The Berserk Elixir of Severed Nature
This mana cultivation technique included not only methods for accumulating magic but also several other techniques.
One of the techniques allowed for a temporary boost in physical abilities.
The human body is inherently lazy.
Most of its physical potential lies dormant, and it takes continuous effort to gradually unlock it.
But the technique in the Berserk Light Elixir bypassed all that tedious effort, unleashing one’s full physical potential in an instant.
And that wasn’t all. With mastery, it was possible to amplify one’s physical abilities even further.
Just like Demian was doing now.
Demian channeled his magic according to the secrets of the Berserk Light Elixir.
His magic surged through his muscles, activating them instantly. His body temperature spiked, and a pleasant euphoria spread through his mind.
In that moment, the world seemed to slow down.
The flapping wings of a bird in the sky, the leaves swaying in the breeze.
Everything moved in slow motion.
Demian lifted a foot.
Icicles were sprouting from the ground, but it didn’t matter.
He was moving faster than the ice could form.
He stepped forward.
His leg muscles exploded with power. His entire body accelerated. In the blink of an eye, he was right in front of Dionysio.
Demian swung his sword down. Dionysio couldn’t even react to the attack.
The blade struck Dionysio’s shoulder in a straight line.
The aura had already dissipated. Dionysio’s shoulder was protected by chainmail, preventing his body from being cleaved in two.
Instead, the impact shattered his collarbone. His body crumpled downward, knees hitting the ground.
”…”
Dionysio blinked, unable to comprehend what had just happened to him.
“I win.”
Demian said curtly, withdrawing his sword. He turned to face Gamal.
“Do you believe me now?”
Gamal remained silent.
“I asked if you believe me,” Demian repeated, raising his voice.
Finally, Gamal let out a deep sigh and replied.
“I believe you.”
“Then you won’t oppose my joining the expedition.”
“Just one thing… I have one question.”
Gamal asked Demian Haxen.
“Our holy knights joined the expedition to eradicate heretics and prove the greatness of our god. Why are you joining?”
The dungeon they were to enter was a warlock’s lair.
A place so dangerous it could very well be a death trap.
“That’s a pointless question.”
Demian replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Agito, a leader of Yuran, cursed our family’s lands and tried to kill my family. After what he did, killing just one of them isn’t enough.”
Demian’s voice was sharp.
“So I’m going to take revenge on the rest of them.”
Gamal’s eyes widened slightly at the answer.
”…Demian Haxen, we welcome your participation.”
And so, Demian Haxen’s place in the expedition was secured.