Ch. 005: Kahrdan's Will
How was the air in Lily.
Kahrdan and Dssal alike thought of one word.
Suffocating.
In Kahrdan's case, smoke and dust hung unmoving in the gloom, creating a misty battleground that was hard to breathe in.
Smelling of skin.
The burning-hot pressure of Kahrdan's aura bristled in the air— restless, pressing against skin like heat that wouldn't fade.
"Oh … that must be the beta-boss … it emerges after all, eh?"
Kahrdan exhaled with a crooked grin, eyes fixated on the hulking shadow before him.
The fatigue caught up to him.
A contrast to his body language, which spoke of confidence, while his heart plummeted.
He wouldn't and couldn't take his eyes off the wolf.
The beast was a smiling representation of Pantheon's malice —Asren, Pantheon's dreaded beta-boss.
An undefeated wolf responsible for countless other deaths, a recurring character later in the game.
"Hah, just look at that— I find myself in a situation even worse. Fortune never fails to disappoint me, I don't even have the leisure to joke of adopting new kids anymore."
Between the strings of fate and destiny— Asren was undoubtedly lucky whereas he was forsaken.
This was the worst time for Kahrdan to face such a threat.
His body received backlash from his last attack, the seventy-five-year-old dire wolf death.
After all— The Reinhardt Family's Arcae control wasn't perfected. Made by a sovereign, not a deity, it could only reach mythical grade; as such, when used extensively, there was a chance— a 1 in 10,000 risk of backlash.
In Kahrdan's case it came as second-degree aura deficiency. Not lethal yet, but crippling nonetheless. It cut his combat ability down by one-third, so in this situation it wouldn't be wrong to say it was fatal.
Kahrdan found himself cursing the situation.
He was raised in a noble household. Obviously they had their own countermeasures— specifically he needed a potion, as even a first-grade one could fix such instantly, just he hadn't brought any.
Why?
Why would he.
This was supposed to be a Slave-stage gate at best. He knew very well this situation could likely repeat itself.
After all, aura users rarely ever carried potions. Unlike magicians, in some ways it was too reasonable to insult.
Historically, from the moment they bore the Arcane, one who mained aura could forcibly draw it from the environment itself— that is, for water wielders the sea, wind wielders the air, and fire wielders the sun.
Potions faded into relative irrelevance. Worth a fortune yet with little benefit.
Thus in this oppressive night where sunlight never reached, Kahrdan's choice cut deep.
Think.
The first thing to do was to assess the threats.
Kahrdan's eyes flicked to Asren, then to the mass of two hundred-odd Bearers huddled behind him— standing idle, lost, like headless chickens.
His gaze flickered more and more.
He wasn't dense. He knew. If he fought now, there would be carnage.
He needed a strategy, a win condition, all while conserving strength for what was to come— without one, he himself wouldn't predict the consequences.
'Oh well, I may not make it out without heavy wounds, but I'll bear it head on.'
Kahrdan doubled down on ensuring others' survival came first.
Kahrdan's resolve.
Of course if Dssal were here, he would've joined the toxic environment berating him as foolish— so in a way it was good he was fighting for his life elsewhere.
---
In the Arcane Bearers' vision.
The clearing lay in eerie silence. Not a single one of them daring to breathe too loudly now.
For one long minute, the quiet stretched unbroken. Kahrdan half-expected their whispers to start again— those fools, even while he fought earlier, hadn't minded barking orders— but thankfully, the Dire Wolf General's presence shattered the stillness first.
Its eyes glinted.
"Human… I see you're a King Stage, aren't ya? Ki ki ki… it's been a while since I felt it. That overflowing bucket of aura, that masterful stance concealing your labored breathing. I just know in peak condition, you might even rival my King. What a magnificent creature you are. Now tell me, young fellow— may I know your name?"
This wolf wasn't addressing just another human. To it, Kahrdan was a rare and worthy opponent.
Naturally,
Kahrdan gave no answer.
Whether it could talk or not, a beast was still a beast.
His gaze remained focused, locked on its frame lounging lazily in the shadows, golden eyes gleaming. Posture relaxed— but the killing intent radiating from it betrayed its hunger.
"It's strong."
The words slipped out from his lips unconsciously.
By the second, Kahrdan preferred to avoid this mortality bout.
His confidence wavered. Kahrdan slapped himself lightly.
'No— in peak condition I would have won with little repercussions. You are a Reinhardt, don't go second-guessing yourself.'
Although he said all that, Kahrdan was very aware of his win conditions.
He still needed to conserve power for the tutorial boss, the Dire Wolf King.
Hence even a win could count as a loss.
If possible, he must slay the wolf without taking any damage.
However unlikely that was— Asren proved everything about him wasn't like other General-stage monsters. He had even cultivated a lightning-based Arcane control and gained its attribute.
Hence, just as Kahrdan could harness fire with the Hellfire Arcane control— Asren could now harness the force of lightning.
It was truly a genius, even as its fluent speech foreshadowed it could assume humanoid form.
Kahrdan kept warning himself this was a creature on the threshold of cultivating Kingship.
He must not take it lightly.
'I'll take the first move.'
//Hellfire Sword Codex//
"Unknown Swordplay."
Burgh.
A crater formed under his feet.
Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!
Three blazing arcs tore forward— great, blazing, rhythmless— fire dancing with reason and madness alike.
'I see my win condition now. It's young for a wolf— I must be unpredictable.'
Asren's eyes sharpened.
Oh?
He could see the trajectory.
Each swing, upon reaching resistance, manifested fiery lions, biting right through the crackling lightning shielding him.
Kahrdan was a gifted swordsman. Asren hissed.
'It would be much harder than I presumed.'
Such attacks were a feat the Bearers watching couldn't have hoped to achieve in their lifetime.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
It would guarantee victory in most places— here being an exception. Pantheon was never easy.
Kahrdan's sword fell to the ground over 20 meters away from himself.
'Huh?'
His eyes drifted to his sword and the wolf.
He got disarmed— as a swordsman, no less.
The bystanders stirred, some even tried to run away, only staying in line as the other wolves edged in to welcome their migration.
And no one would blame them. It was extremely serious in the eyes of the untrained Bearers.
Especially since Asren sneered in annoyance as if it were only natural.
"Oh my? Where's your honor as a swordsman? Aren't you supposed to embody it? What's with the sudden attacks, human?"
Of course, Asren didn't believe in such terms as honor.
He only complained because he had planned to strike first, and Kahrdan had stolen that initiative from him.
Which the Bearers didn't know— if being honest, at this point the majority believed Kahrdan was weaker than Asren.
Kahrdan glanced at his fallen sword on the ground.
'Cheii, I might've overdone it.'
Replaying what happened, he'd purposely let go of it to avoid getting the backlash.
An actual martial skill of the Reinhardts.
But although he hadn't gone all out, each strike was far from weak. Against any normal fourth-level Bearer, it would've meant certain death.
Kahrdan grinned nervously, then charged forward once again— this time without his sword, flame-cloaked fists raised.
BAMMM!
He met a brick wall.
He got smacked back by the wolf's tail again— only conveniently, he got flung right at his sword. Secretly intentional, judging from Kahrdan's apparent grin.
But make no mistake— it was another impressive showing from Asren. Kahrdan had chained martial arts in close succession, catching him off guard after sword strikes capable of felling any equal.
Yet this wolf dealt with both without even morphing.
Monsters at its tier could only release full capabilities in humanoid form— yet Asren hadn't even seemed bothered to do so.
Something else was foul here.
Kahrdan tightened his grip, his expression settling into something serious.
'Accursed luck.'
---
"My name is Kahrdan Reinhardt," Kahrdan at last forced the words through clenched teeth.
Though Asren's strike back was fierce, uncharacteristically it hadn't shown any instinct to devour him— nor the hunger for cores that fueled dire wolves' growth, and surely how this one had survived so long.
He needed to uncover what lay hidden beneath this fight before committing fully.
"Ho ho, so now you're ready to speak with this old wolf." Golden eyes burned into him as the General continued. "Let's skip through everything, shall we? The night is short. I am Asren, an upper wolf from my tribe— and I am pleased to announce the great Moon God seeks one like you. A great benefit of you to become his contemporary vessel."
"Pardon?!" Kahrdan was immediately caught off guard.
'That wouldn't make sense.'
"I haven't let you speak yet, have I? Be careful, as there won't be a next time." The wolf hissed in annoyance as its frame scratched its ears.
"Anyways, once every millennia during his reset, the Moon God would need potential vessels— around now, as per order, only the strongest and most talented are suitable. Such gifts you have been blessed with— willpower and fate alike. You could truly be chosen to become his sword, his claw, his new avatar upon this world."
'He wants me to become a vessel? For a dead god too? That's far more serious than first glance.'
Kahrdan's grip tightened again on his blade. He'd learned of how gods operated— he really couldn't ignore it.
'At the same time, this isn't knowledge a mere tutorial mini-boss should hold.'
"Say," Kahrdan steadied his stance, ultimately deciding to at least hear him out fully. "Why would the Moon God even choose me?"
Asren bared its fangs in a grin.
"Perhaps it is because— Kahrdan, haven't you even dared to believe I too am a vessel? In such a way I'm almost one with the Moon God, and as per duty I saw it clearly— the flame within you burns far brighter than any human I have ever faced. Those flames, when smothered beneath the moonlight, would shine most beautifully… before they die out."
Kahrdan sighed in relief.
'If it isn't really the Moon God that's interested, but he who wanted me as kin.'
Lightning surged around Asren as his grin widened.
"So become a wolf, Kahrdan. Say the words— you, Kahrdan Reinhardt, forsake your humanity and choose to become a wolf of Mu. Do remember, you can't refuse."
"Granted, in such a case I suppose I would just have to kill you then."
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.
'However, I'm not totally certain.'
Kahrdan's confidence dropped a notch, hoarse and bitter, as he weighed death itself.
'He might've said only the bare minimum. I'm not at all confident I can protect them all if a god is even slightly involved.'
"And if I join you…" Kahrdan ultimately gestured toward the two hundred-plus Bearers frozen in terror. "What happens to the rest?"
"Them? They're gone, kin."
"What else? Of course we'll spare you the burden of conscience," Asren added slyly. "Once you take the oath, such frail emotions vanish. Your potential will be cultivated in full, along with your wolf form. Two centuries of life— perhaps even more. Long enough to chase immortality itself—"
'Bastard!'
"Simply… they die?" Kahrdan only paid attention to those words.
"Yes, but that is beside the point. What is a flock of lambs weighed against immortality?"
"Shut up."
Kahrdan spoke with an edge sharper than any blade.
Asren couldn't find his words. He didn't know why, but his body obeyed without question— as if he spoke to a greater being. For a brief moment, it felt natural— inevitable— to submit.
But then his eyes widened as realization struck. It was a mere human who had ordered him. Confusion melted into fury, and his glare burned into Kahrdan.
'No way is that the mark of a hero,' Asren frowned— yet a belated memory flashed.
A male figure blurring together with Kahrdan, who smiled weakly.
His Hero Trait came in as his eyes momentarily flashed with a sword.
And it wasn't the nervous grin from before. The smile was cold. Sharp. And relaxed— before instantly flipping.
The air itself suddenly seemed to ignite as his expression darkened, warm flames twisting and writhing in the silence.
"You've mistaken me for someone else," Kahrdan declared, his voice as imposing as his fire itself, as he adopted an airtight sword stance. "I am Kahrdan Purge Reinhardt, descendant of humans of the noble Reinhardt line. And I will never join you, jo-ta."
'After all, if I do, wouldn't I be a total waste?'
---
HOW TO USE A WORLD'S APOCALYPSE
(END OF CHAPTER FIVE)