Chapter 797 - Extinguishing Embers
Ragna knew he was approaching his limit.
At this rate, he would wither and die.
The fight was like a precariously stacked stone tower.
It would collapse if the wind blew a little too hard, and it would collapse if a passing child found it curious and poked it with a fingertip.
If even one of them lost their balance or fell, Beelrog would go wild with joy, and it would be the end.
And yet, Enkrid remained unchanged.
His expression hadn't shifted, and his eyes were still as crazed as ever.
Stab!
Just a moment ago, Ragna's sword had pierced a hole in Beelrog's stomach.
And he had stabbed it good and proper.
The resistance transmitted through the blade of Sunrise told him that he had struck something real.
'Why?'
Ragna had been filled with the will to land a decisive blow, but at the last moment, he felt that Beelrog's intention had mixed with his own.
In other words, it had let itself be stabbed on purpose.
All his questions were condensed into that single word, 'why.'
Not that he had the time to open his mouth and ask.
In the end, as if unsatisfied with simply enduring, Beelrog threw an unexpected, decisive gambit.
It is said one should give flesh to take bone, but for that creature, giving both bone and flesh was still a gain.
And it did just that.
With a hole in its stomach from Sunrise, it tried to crush Enkrid's shin.
It was a similar attack pattern, but the surprising element this time was Beelrog's bold and resolute judgment.
Even with its abdomen torn and its intestines spilling out, Beelrog's thigh muscles moved perfectly.
The tip of its foot once again aimed for Enkrid's shin.
For the intricate clockwork to remain unbroken, no one could forget their role.
Audin must not block anything beyond the scope of maintaining balance, and Rem, who was checking from afar, must not suddenly charge in.
At this timing, there was no one who could block or take the kick aimed at Enkrid for him.
Shinar, who was watching, reflexively tried to throw her body forward, but the elf, in her current state, lacked the means to close the physical distance.
In short, it seemed Enkrid would have no choice but to lose a leg.
And it seemed this fight, too, would end like that.
The two swords Enkrid held were already extended to block Beelrog's Surtr and a part of Salamandra's split whip.
So, instead of using his strength to pull his swords back, he lifted his foot and received Beelrog's kick with the sole of his foot.
He balanced on one leg and diverted the force.
No matter how good his technique, it was a defense that was already one step behind.
Even if he blocked it, it seemed a matter of course that his shin muscles would be torn or the bone crushed.
But this time too, Enkrid endured.
And he even muttered.
"Endure."
He was paying back the words Beelrog had said to him in a different 'today'.
The transformation of his Will, from Endure to Ironclad, and then again to Indules, took place and was manifested outside his body.
If one could project Will with a sword, why not with the body?
Enkrid imitated Audin's Holy Light Armor, which he had observed countless times.
If maintained, his Will would become so heavy it would hinder his fighting, but for a single moment of defense, it was useful.
He blocked it like that.
Of course, no matter what he did, if he had blocked it head-on, his shinbone would have crumbled, but he had diverted as much force as possible and received only the minimum impact.
Thanks to that, he endured the force contained in Beelrog's kick, getting away with only a momentary muscle ache.
'A genius.'
Ragna was inwardly amazed.
Though in reality, it was less in the realm of talent and more of time, effort, and experience.
Thus, Enkrid continued to block Beelrog's attacks.
He literally blocked them, one way or another.
It hadn't been a long fight, but the price of enduring alone began to appear as wounds all over his body.
CRASH!
Penna broke and was flung away as it blocked Surtr, which had been swung with the intent to be perfectly parallel to the ground.
An elven artisan would have screamed at the sight.
A part of his cloak was also torn.
Blood splattered.
Not black mist, but red blood that vaporized and scattered as red smoke.
It was a phenomenon that occurred when blows were exchanged at high speed.
That too was just a blur amidst the torchlight.
When reflecting on this entire process, what happened from this point on could not be called a coincidence. This was inevitable. It was an opportunity earned because they had endured.
Two projectiles, which Rem had fired using Descent and Advent simultaneously, broke Beelrog's two newly-grown horns, and a third, fired in succession, struck Beelrog on the forehead.
It was no longer a check but an all-out assault.
Rem, who had been firing his projectiles one by one until now, had thrown not two, but three in a row.
He had poured out his secret techniques.
That was the price of pouring out all his strength.
Beelrog's limbs got tangled.
The opening widened.
Enkrid was barely holding on.
He was so focused on blocking and blocking again that he didn't even properly register what Rem had done.
He was simply focused on Beelrog's reaction.
'If I miss, it's the end.'
There was no room to look away.
Audin momentarily ignored the whip and circled around to Beelrog's right.
Until now, he had consistently fought on the left, only occasionally extending a fist or foot that way, so this too was positioning aimed at the element of surprise.
Fwoosh.
Then, with his right hand, he gathered and then burned an unprecedented amount of holy power.
The light of the divinity momentarily turned into a flame.
It was a hidden secret art.
A flame bestowed by the war god—a Holy Flame.
With a hand-blade wreathed in Holy Flame, he sliced through Beelrog's thigh.
Sizzzzzzle!
The Holy Flame did not spread elsewhere but instead cauterized as it went, severing Beelrog's thigh from its body. Even with its leg cut off, Beelrog didn't scream once and instead struck Audin's head with its elbow as if to push him away.
BOOM!
With a great roar, Audin, having expended his strength, was sent flying to one side.
It wasn't a pre-arranged moment, but the balance had been broken.
However, it was something that someone had to do at some point.
It was a fact that everyone who was enduring knew.
If they only endured, they would be the ones to lose.
Beelrog regenerated its entire body and did not tire.
A battle of endurance meant their loss.
Before Audin was hit by the elbow, Enkrid thrust Dawnforged in between.
Thanks to that, Audin's head didn't explode.
Audin was sent flying to one side, bouncing off the ground like a skipping stone before rolling to a stop.
In all these moments, Ragna's Sunrise, which had been aiming for an opening, appeared with a snap and slashed Beelrog's chest.
It would not be blocked.
That intuition filled everyone's mind.
Beelrog's fiery eyes swirled viciously.
The fiery whip shot out and caught Ragna's sword mid-blade.
That briefly slowed the speed of Ragna's attack.
In that gap, Beelrog spun its body around, tensed its now-regenerated abdominal muscles, and shot its leg out.
A spinning back kick.
'He will die.'
In that split-second of time, insight showed a glimpse of the immediate future.
Ragna would die.
The angle, speed, and timing were unavoidable.
Of course, not everyone thought so.
The man focused solely on the act of blocking moved, breaking his limits.
Enkrid had just blocked Surtr, which Beelrog had swung down, by gripping his sword with both hands. That meant he had blocked the elbow aimed at Audin and then parried Surtr.
The leg that Beelrog had shot out after spinning its body seemed impossible for anyone to block, but Enkrid's body also moved in that narrow gap.
'Block.'
Will becomes resolve and shines, compelling a change in Will.
A point-like explosion erupted, and the Will that had become Indules gained speed.
For an instant, Enkrid existed in the same timeframe as Beelrog, and his sword blocked even the kick aimed at Ragna.
CRASH!
Blades and viscera trembled, and a part of the impact grazed Ragna's abdomen.
Still, a block was a block.
And Ragna's sword stopped at merely cracking the second crystal.
Crack.
The crystal stopped cracking.
The blade of Sunrise had not achieved its goal.
Now, in the time it took to draw a single breath, the entire battle was about to end in Beelrog's victory.
And yet, Enkrid's two eyes remained the same.
The collapsing Ragna could no longer use his Will, and far away, Rem fell to his knees and slumped to the floor.
He was paying the price for using strenuous techniques in succession.
Audin, sprawled out, only lifted his head.
Of course, if a single breath's time were to pass, everyone present would get up and fight, even if they had to wring out their own hearts.
Even if that end was death.
These people did not know how to give up.
That is what they had learned.
Their captain had taught them so with his back.
They were the ones who had taught Enkrid techniques and training methods, but they too had learned much from him in return.
And in that gap of a breath, an interval of time that even Beelrog could not control, the master of assassination who had been hiding made his move.
Just as Beelrog had once risen from the shadow of Oara, Jaxen rose from the creature's own shadow and stabbed the one remaining, untouched crystal on its chest.
The dagger, held in a reverse grip in a hand that embraced it from behind as if in a hug, shattered the crystal in one blow.
Jaxen immediately tried to slash the dagger sideways.
Simultaneously, Beelrog's wings folded and rolled up, transforming into a crude spear that shot out, aiming for the spot below Jaxen's neck.
It was a counterattack that shattered prediction against an attack that had defied prediction.
'Block.'
Enkrid was still fixated on that one thought.
Perceive the line of attack, predict it, mobilize insight, and block.
'Block.'
Mobilize the senses, turn all coincidence into inevitability, react, and block.
'Block.'
The will to block at all costs urged the transformation of his Will, achieving Indules.
And yet, it wasn't enough.
So what more could he do?
There was no time to think.
If he didn't react now, someone would die.
Was it in admiration of this, or was it the Ferryman's whim, or perhaps just an auditory hallucination?
It sounded like the voice of the Ferryman he had seen before. It felt like it.
"Fight. As if this is the first time."
The moment his words became a verse and resonated in his chest.
He had gotten the hang of it by repeating the day, fighting and fighting, blocking and blocking, but even if something came to mind, executing it was another matter.
But now, Enkrid pulled that vague intuition into reality.
'The culmination of all techniques. The one who wields the sword is a person.'
To say you will block anything is linked to saying you will protect what is behind you.
Will becomes resolve and shines.
'Block.'
The moment he steeled his resolve again, a path appeared.
Just before Jaxen appeared, Enkrid had already closed the distance, as if entering Beelrog's embrace.
Only the wings were striking at Jaxen.
There were still plenty of means to attack—that is, its hands and feet.
It might be difficult for its limbs to strike what was behind it, but it was more than enough to crush an approaching fly.
Beelrog swung its elbow at Enkrid.
At the tip of the elbow, formless power gathered, transforming into a scythe that was about to fly out.
Just before that attack began, Enkrid held Dawnforged in a reverse grip and struck the middle of its arm as if stamping it with the pommel.
Next, he threw the dagger that Jaxen detests, piercing the middle of its wing.
The wing, which had been rising with force, faltered.
This was enough time for Jaxen to pull away.
'If blocking by predicting the line of attack doesn't work…'
Then you hit the starting point.
For that, an extremely close-quarters fight was essential.
Enkrid's two eyes shone, brimming with elation.
He was savoring the moment of surpassing his limits.
'Extinguishing Embers.'
A variation and evolution of the Wave-Blocking Sword Style.
It was to block the starting point of an attack with insight before it even began.
It was the act of extinguishing a flame before it could ignite.
Beelrog extended its foot, and Enkrid stepped on Beelrog's thigh, climbed up, and thrust his palm toward its chin.
The motion to simultaneously kick and headbutt with its horns was cut off.
One side tried to kill, the other to block.
It was a waltz of death danced by a pair.
Enkrid was busy using everything he had to strike and block the starting points.
Even as its movements were cut off, Beelrog mixed in a feint at the end.
It pretended to aim for Enkrid, but then extended its hand toward Ragna, who had slashed with Sunrise and whose posture had collapsed.
Surtr, held in that hand, shot out straight.
A pierce in a straight line so fluid it was beautiful.
It could have been a textbook example of a one-handed thrust.
Moreover, to do this while dealing with a human rampaging at close range on his thigh was nothing short of acrobatic.
There was no special meaning in the intent to stab Ragna here.
He had simply glimpsed the will to protect everyone around him in Enkrid's movements and was exploiting an advantage.
Enkrid had to surpass his limits once again.
Even if it meant shattering the frame of time, even if it meant sacrificing a part of his body, if he had to do it, he would.
Indules.
The Will built up inside his body became as light as a goose feather, not a rock.
In his lightened body, Dawnforged responded, and the sword flew.
TANG!
Surtr was blocked.
It was knocked away by Dawnforged.
But here, Beelrog added another feint.
The feint was to deliberately throw the sword he had never once let go of.
With his two remaining hands, he tried to crush Enkrid's head as if clapping.
In that short gap of time, Enkrid's thoughts accelerated faster than usual.
'Why couldn't I strike the attack's starting point?'
If it was a sword thrust, he should have blocked it.
He should have cut it off before it began, but he couldn't.
His thoughts accelerated.
'Because he threw it.'
If he let go of the sword, his hands would be free.
And Beelrog's entire body was a weapon.
This thought was seared into his mind like a lightning bolt in the realm of intuition.
To block Surtr, Enkrid also let go of Dawnforged.
Then he raised both hands as if to block the sides of his head.
However, he could not buy enough time for his Will to turn back into a rock.
CRACK!
Diverting as much force as he could and enduring, he shot his leg straight up.
It was the first counterattack from Enkrid, who had blocked and endured countless times.
A kick that extended from outside the realm of prediction and insight.
The tip of Enkrid's foot kicked up at Beelrog's chin.
This kick, too, was something he had learned from being on the receiving end of it from Beelrog at the very beginning.
'This is it.'
He had no more strength to fight.
Beelrog's crystal was cracked, but one remained.
Unless all three crystals were broken, Beelrog would not die.
It was a creature that could regenerate even a broken neck.
So should he give up here?
His spirit would not break.
A mettle that knew no surrender made Enkrid's leg move one more time.
That foot that knew no surrender, even while being kicked in the chin, kicked up at the left wrist of Beelrog, who had extended its fingernails into long claws.
Even if this was blocked, it was meaningless to head toward the end, but he just did it.
He did it, knowing it was a final, desperate struggle.
And Enkrid felt as if he heard an elf's voice.
—Well done, my fiancé.
The dark green afterimage that had been spectating until the end appeared.
The master of movements as stealthy as Jaxen's had approached at some point and, next to Enkrid, planted her palm on the ground and extended her leg.
The tip of her foot was pointed.
It looked like a spear made from layered leaves.
Thwack!
Just as Enkrid had surpassed his limits, Beelrog too had been fighting by scraping the very bottom of its vessel.
The elf's leg, extended as if in a handstand, became a spear and shattered the last remaining crystal.
Clink—.
Fragments of black powder scattered in the air, and through them, the elf's voice pierced his ears.
"This is the price and my revenge for daring to kick my fiancé."
***
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