Chapter 342 - The Tyrant (4)
Once, there was a Giant with an abnormal build.
A height that easily exceeded two meters.
A man who, with brute strength alone, could tear people apart like toys and kill them.
What if he donned a suit of armor sturdy enough for him, and wielded a greatsword?
He would be nothing less than a battering ram on legs.
A simple way of fighting: charge forward while ignoring every shock with a monstrous durability, then, with all his might, deliver one outrageous strike.
It could hardly be called "technique", yet no one had ever withstood it.
At the moment of contact, swords shattered as swords, shields shattered as shields, magic shattered as magic.
───Kehahahaha! Anyone, come at me! I'll crush you alive!
He rampaged like a beast amid the countless conflicts that erupted across the Central Continent.
Who could stop that Giant? As everyone only watched and hesitated, Romer stepped forward.
Their difference in size was overwhelming.
So was their difference in brute strength. He could have killed Romer with a single blow, without even needing a weapon.
And, as expected, it was decided in a single exchange.
Only, the result was the opposite.
He deflected the vertically descending massive blade with his shield.
At the same time, he focused his qi into the tip of his sword and thrust his arm with full power.
Puuuk!
───Ghk... gkhk....
Without a hair's breadth of error, the blade slipped through the gap in the helmet and pierced the right eye.
A chain of follow-up strikes came immediately after.
The Giant who had been committing a fearsome slaughter let out a howl and collapsed, and from that moment was no longer able to rise.
This is the power Romer possesses.
"Harsh strength cannot defeat softness."
The greater the power, the more it twists in the face of the smallest changes.
He carves open the gap he creates with all his nerves, with one precise cut and thrust.
A craft born of combat experience, flexibility, elasticity, brute strength, reflexes, judgment, all in one.
Counterattack was Romer's signature.
But then.
"So, heavy!"
A powerful wave that rang the metal.
A shock no way could he simply parry aside.
Even though he had planted his stance properly, both knees were driven into the ground by a single blow.
And that wasn't all.
It didn't end as a single hit, an unprecedented pressure went on to crush his shield.
"Ghhrrk, grrk...!!"
He was forcing it back with everything he had, yet strangely it wouldn't budge.
He was being pushed, little by little.
Imbue Magic, and Gravity Magic.
He had confirmed them in the battle just before, but....
"This isn't it."
His instincts sounded the alarm.
If he fell, it would end before he could do anything. Wiping the smile from his face, Romer drew his qi together.
He clenched his teeth.
Slowly, slowly he leaned his upper body forward and barely opened a gap.
Then, when his knees were just barely peeling off the ground, he detonated his full power at once.
"Uaaaaaah!"
Romer rose to his feet.
The crushing pressure that threatened to kill him vanished as well. His breathing was ragged from the massive drain, but it didn't matter.
"Now it's time to counter───"
Double Casting.
A gravity sphere formed at point-blank range and smashed into the breastplate of Romer's armor.
He gagged and rolled across the paved ground.
This wasn't some stage where two warriors measured each other's mettle, this was harsh reality.
Verden had no intention of wasting time needlessly.
***
Sword marks and traces of magic left on the outer walls and the ground.
And people fallen and groaning in pain with injuries.
The central plaza of Southern Pit was a living hell.
Helgar, leader of the Executioners.
Big beads of sweat clung to the tip of his chin.
"This is... nonsense."
There was only one target visible right now.
Not even the King of the Underworld himself, merely his bodyguard.
Helgar shouldn't even have needed to step out personally, the Republic's hired numbers should have swept him aside without trouble...
"Grrrgh...."
"A potion... someone, get a potion...!"
Instead, more than half of theirs were down.
Most wounds weren't fatal, but there were dead as well.
Just as he'd warned, all who tried to cross over to the left side of the plaza died.
All Helgar and the Executioners had accomplished in the meantime was to brush the edge of the man's robe twice, at most.
"And the Executioners who were chasing the King of the Underworld, no word."
Were they taken out?
If that man was stronger than this bodyguard, the answer was obvious.
Fine, with things as they were, he had to admit it.
They had... misjudged the enemy's strength.
Just then, Adrian, who'd been glancing around, spoke.
"It's quieter than I expected. And if this is all they sent to slow us down... perhaps even a unit directly under the Supreme Councilor doesn't know the inside story."
There were no black mages in Southern Pit.
There were no signs that Glory of the Dead had intervened, no sensation of eyes watching from somewhere.
"Nor did they send the Republic's top strength."
Something was off.
He couldn't conclude anything, but there were too many things that didn't sit right.
Adrian tilted his head.
At that reaction, Helgar gripped his hilt tight.
"How dare you...!"
A wave of humiliation surged.
Disgrace.
For the leader of one of the Republic of Beldirn's Executioner squads to be toyed with like this.
Yet he kept his cool.
What mattered wasn't that kind of emotion, but carrying out the mission.
Capture the two wanted men who threatened the Republic. That was all.
Veins stood out in his eyes as Helgar dashed straight ahead.
"Lord Helgar?!"
He ignored the other Executioners and moved on his own.
It wouldn't make much difference anyway.
The fact that his blade had brushed the target at all was thanks purely to Helgar's skill.
Kaang───kagagagagang!
Twin swords and a bastard sword crashed together in rapid succession.
A clash so fierce it was hard to even follow with the eye.
They said Adrian wasn't going all out, but they were trading quite a few blows.
And then.
Thwack!
A kick from the blind spot smashed Helgar's jaw.
His vision blurred for an instant.
Barely holding onto consciousness, he let out a roar.
"Haaaaaaah!"
Contracting muscles, boiling blood.
Helgar unfolded his martial technique, having drawn in breath to the absolute limit.
Striking Iron.
A thrust that exploded like the elasticity of a spring, aimed straight at the heart.
Adrian pushed off the ground and twisted his waist, slipping past with a spin.
Evasion, and counter.
Tracing a supple arc, the blade sliced Helgar's thigh, armor and all.
"Kh...!"
His stance collapsed.
The outcome was decided, yet he did not give up and flung his sword in a wild swing.
It was desperation.
Just as Helgar was about to be subdued, a jagged, saw-toothed dagger came flying from afar.
Adrian hopped lightly back and glanced to the side.
A disagreeable man stood there, a great beast's claw marks raked across his face.
"Since you showed no sign of running, I let you be for a moment. Is the show over now, Donovan?"
"Hearing my real name on another continent feels strange. You know me?"
"I've heard the rumor that you hunt beastkin and flay their hides."
Donovan laughed pleasantly.
"You're well informed. A prospective customer of mine? Unfortunately, my trinket sales are temporarily closed. I became a target for the beastkin and had to move continents. I'm doing another job for now. Human hunting."
He held up his necklace.
Pieces of human bone dangled in clusters.
"Not exactly something I can sell, but it's decent for satisfying my collector's urge. Your fingers would look quite at home here."
Donovan snickered.
It was a useless conversation.
Adrian knitted his brow and gripped both swords.
"I can't kill him yet."
One must deal with him moderately,to subdue him without inflicting even the slightest fatal wound.
***
Romer Hansnia.
From childhood, he had stood out in many fields, and so he spent a lonely youth.
He had no friends of his own caliber.
Romer called himself a lone wolf.
The main reason was simply because it sounded cool.
Usually, nicknames are given by others, but it wasn't unheard of for someone to make their own.
Thus, upon reaching adulthood, he began to make his name as a capable warrior across the Central Continent.
He distinguished himself in many battlefields.
At times, he went on adventures and gained strange experiences.
Though he occasionally found himself in troublesome situations, there were no true hardships or ordeals.
Mostly, he won smoothly, and claimed more victories.
On the side, he enjoyed romances with women he fancied, living his youth to the fullest.
Romer was the protagonist.
At least, in his own life, he was.
And today, he met a monster.
───Kwooooom!
Blasted away, Romer was slammed into an abandoned building.
The pillars snapped and the entire roof came crashing down.
Through the thick clouds of dust that swelled, Romer desperately crawled out.
His body was caked in dust and sweat.
His sword was nowhere to be seen.
Barely supporting himself on his shield, he staggered up.
"Haaah, haaah, haaah..."
His mind was hazy.
Was it from a lack of stamina, or from being beaten down too much, he couldn't tell.
It was likely both.
Honestly, he had never thought his opponent would be easy.
He had expected fierce clashes, but in the end, believed he would prevail.
"And yet, I can't even touch him...? Me?"
It couldn't even be called resistance.
He barely managed to block, with no chance of attempting a counter.
Skill? He had no room to use such things.
On the surface, the man looked like someone of similar age... but even experiencing it directly, Romer couldn't believe such a difference existed.
"Could he be disguising his appearance? Perhaps inside, he's actually an aged, venerable Mage..."
Such a thought struck him.
But what did it matter?
Blinking, Romer painfully lifted his gaze.
The pinnacle of the Eastern Continent's underworld.
Confronted with those vivid blue eyes, his shoulders flinched as he stumbled back.
"Ugh!"
Thud.
His leg caught on shattered planks, and he landed on his rear.
"..."
From beyond the sunlight, the shadow grew long.
At some point, Verden had approached, towering over Romer.
Then, he focused his magic power at his fingertips.
Thump, thump, thump.
His heart pounded wildly.
His fingertips trembled.
What spell would it be this time? Whatever it was, it would hurt like hell.
In this state, he couldn't block it.
"W-wait, just wait..."
He tried to stop him instinctively, but Verden didn't pause. The light of magic reflected in his orange eyes grew stronger and stronger.
And as it was about to take shape, Romer shouted before he even realized it.
"I-I lost! I said I lost! So stop already!"
At last, he declared defeat.
Seeing Romer stripped of all will to fight, Verden withdrew his magic.
"So, where is Jack?"
From the sudden proposal to the conclusion,though brief, the deal was valid.
"H-he's, here."
"Here?"
"In my bag..."
Romer hurriedly rummaged through his spatial bag.
From it, he pulled out a small, palm-sized, blue cube.
A magic-related item.
Verden focused his magic power into his eyes.
He read the cube's inner essence.
Confirming it, Verden, for once, showed rare surprise and interest.
"An artifact. Where did you get this?"
"Back when I stumbled upon some ruins... while exploring, I found it."
Artifacts are rare no matter what form they take.
To obtain one by chance, impossible without absurd luck.
"A sealing-type artifact that uses space, eh. It has many restrictions, making it troublesome to use... but under the right conditions, it would be very useful."
Especially when capturing people, as in bounty hunting.
At any rate, someone was certainly sealed inside this artifact.
The familiar presence he sensed proved it was Jack.
"Here, take it... as promised."
Romer stretched out his hand.
His will already broken, he only wanted to leave Southern Pit as quickly as possible.
Then, Verden picked up the artifact entirely.
"Huh? W-wait! I didn't mean for you to take the artifact itself!"
He knew.
But Verden was deeply interested in the artifact.
"Well, even if I just claim ownership like this, there's no real problem..."
Until now, Verden had always taken from his enemies.
That was only natural.
In that light, Romer was an ambiguous case.
"He didn't try to kill me, and in the end, he hasn't really done anything."
In other words, Romer hadn't crossed the line Verden had drawn.
So if he were to obtain the artifact, a fair trade would be the proper course... but there was no time for that now.
Therefore.
"I'll borrow this artifact for a while."
"What?!"
"Come find me later, and I'll return it."
"What kind of───"
It was postponed.
Thud!
Blasted away by a storm of gravity, Romer was buried under debris and lost consciousness.
He wasn't mortally wounded, so he would wake soon enough.
Verden turned on his heel.
Flying through the sky, he ignored the remnants and returned to Southern Pit's plaza.
"You have returned, my lord."
Adrian was the first to greet him.
Perhaps he had been interrogating, for the Executioners and the Flayer were in shambles.
Especially the Flayer, who was utterly ruined.
"Our objective is achieved. Let us return."
"Understood."
Nodding, Adrian swung his sword.
The fallen Flayer, Donovan, was beheaded in a single stroke.
Was there some personal grudge?
"I have an acquaintance among the beastkin."
"I see."
It was nothing he particularly cared about.
Verden had no intention of restricting Adrian's every action.
At that moment, Helgar hurled his sword and roared.
"You're not... going anywhere...!"
Such willpower was impressive.
Even knowing his strength was useless, he still stood in their way.
Snap.
Verden flicked his fingers.
Winds from all directions converged and surged at Helgar.
Bwooooom!
Blasted by the shockwave, Helgar was slammed into a building's outer wall.
He wasn't dead, but he wouldn't be rising for a while.
It was time to return to Quorail.
Verden and Adrian strode leisurely out of Southern Pit.
No one stopped them.
What they left behind in just one day was nothing but dust-choked streets and a blood-soaked plaza.
They were tyrants, through and through.
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