Chapter 163

162. Survivors of Hazart Palan (3)

*

The axe flew through the sky. Along with the arm that held it. With a single slash, the demon tore the warrior’s limbs to shreds, letting out a ferocious laugh as it rampaged across the battlefield.

The Southern Continent inhabitants generally believe that they have no fear of the Northerners. Generally, that’s true. Their god encouraged warriors to die in battle, and struggle was almost the only way to reach the side of their god.

But now, their god no longer protects them. The followers of the World Serpent have been spreading rumors of the Einherjar’s demise, and there isn’t enough evidence to dismiss their words as lies.

The gods no longer answered their prayers.

-Crack!

Another person dies. Aeren, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, silently raised her shield and pushed the warrior in front of her away, thinking. Another person will die. Soon, all of us.

But—

“No one!! Can live forever!”

“Botaahaan!!”

The warriors responded to Aeren’s cry. The demon, who had been eyeing her, turned its body toward her and growled.

“Ah, great Yar. Aeren. I know you.”

“Seems like we’re meeting for the first time?”

“Your god cannot protect you. Mortal. They were weak. To the great mother.”

“Talking about skirt lengths. Aren’t you ashamed at your age?”

Aeren, drenched in madness, pushed away the warrior swinging an axe and buried her own axe into his neck. Hot blood splashed onto her cheek. Watching this, the demon chuckled and slowly approached.

“Step aside, vermin. That woman is mine.”

“Your Excellency, you must not kill that woman.”

“That brat wanted her life, not her body. As long as we don’t kill her, it’s fine to break her limbs.”

As the demon chuckled, the warriors scattered and made way. Aeren, feeling a strange sense of liberation amidst the chaos, caught her breath. The overwhelming pressure of the approaching demon was immense, but she thought she had thankfully bought herself some time to steady her stance.

“Your end is near. The end of all of you. Like your gods.”

“Talkative, aren’t you? Monster.”

“Impudent wench!”

As Aeren taunted, the demon sped up and charged. Like a charging bull, like a massive wall crashing down. The giant’s body closed in on her.

Aeren tightened her grip on her shield and narrowed her eyes. Can I win? Even if I can handle the demon, what about after? If I, the one fighting the most fiercely, get tied down, what happens to the frontline?

Her gaze briefly touched the frontline. She saw her warriors being pushed back. In that brief moment, the demon, now close, raised its massive sword and swung it down. Aeren slid her shield to prepare for the attack.

-Crack!

With a loud noise, blood splattered everywhere. Aeren, who never blinked in the heat of battle, felt the urge to rub her eyes this time.

The demon’s severed arm floated in the air. In the slow-motion scene caused by her heightened senses, Aeren stared dumbfounded. Crimson blood scattered everywhere, and the demon staggered from the impact.

In the midst of it—

-Sssssss! Crack!

The shock overturned the ground. The powerful strike sent dirt flying, and the vibration shook the earth. Aeren slightly turned her eyes to see what had struck the ground.

It was a greatsword with a gleaming dark blade. Not of Northern design, but uniquely shaped. It had been thrown with such force that more than half of the blade was buried in the ground, and the sword itself was trembling.

“Gaaaaah! What bastard—!”

“Rude creatures.”

A low voice echoed from the hill. The demon, clutching its bleeding arm, glared at the hill with burning eyes. On the hill, a young man was looking down at them.

*

“Kirhas.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“Turn east. Break through the center and join the defense line.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

“Abel, you go north. Ignore the humans and intercept the demons.”

“Leave it to me.”

Fernandez gave short orders and drew the Keyblade, gripping it firmly with both hands. The greatsword pulsed with the demon’s blood. The divine energy flowing through the blade seeped into his veins, heating his head.

He lightly tapped the ground. His steps were light. A full day of fighting couldn’t dull his body. Demons and their followers, heretics and cultists. Their existence was the resource that fueled his new strength.

The greatsword tilted diagonally. Utilizing his full running speed, he focused on the strike, drawing a diagonal line from the warrior’s neck to his waist.

-Crack!

Next, axe and sword. The other warriors beside the dead one reflexively swung their weapons. Fernandez bent his waist, lowering his stance, and swung the greatsword horizontally.

-Slash!

The warriors’ crude armor was torn apart, and the greatsword plunged through. Muscles were severed, bones shattered, and blood and oil mixed as they splattered. Literally, flesh exploded.

“What, what is this guy!”

The Northerners shouted in confusion. Fernandez turned his head, letting the blood that had entered his eyes flow out. Blood splashed onto his cheek and dripped down. He charged forward again, into the heart of the enemy.

-Slash!

“Stop him, stop him!”

“Kill him, great World Serpent! Grant us your strength!”

Desperation filled the warriors’ eyes. An unbelievable force erupted from his slender frame. Fernandez, running forward, turned that path, that trajectory, into blood and flesh, crushing the enemy formation as he advanced.

His eyes were fixed on only one direction. Above the warriors’ heads, the demon’s face, staring dumbfounded at him.

“Kill! Kill him!”

Screams erupted from all sides. Kirhas and Abel. They alone—





The three were shaking up the battlefield. Fernandez tore apart the warrior in front of him and thought.

In war, the bravery of one person is limited to a local struggle. But in such small-scale skirmishes, individuals called “heroes” can turn the tide of battle itself.

Here, Fernandez, Abel, and Kirhas were such beings. The greatest field commander of the Great Wilderness, Diemonica, and the dragon turned human. To stop this mythical group of warriors, it wasn’t about numbers but having opponents of equal caliber.

The closest demon finally reached him. In the short time Fernandez had been striking this area and breaking through the depths. As the demon reacted to his force and turned to approach, Fernandez had already paved the way with blood and flesh.

“Who are you?”

“I don’t know why everyone is so curious about my identity.”

Suddenly, there were no warriors approaching him. Already soaked in blood, Fernandez smiled, his deep blue eyes shining through his blood-stained face.

“You’re all going to die anyway.”

“Arrogant. A mere mortal’s strength is impressive, but that’s all. What you’ve done is nothing more than a force any of us could muster. Are you that woman’s subordinate?”

“Among the demons I’ve met, you have the most refined speech.”

-Swish.

Fernandez wiped his blood-soaked sword on his leg and raised it towards the demon’s head. The demon frowned momentarily and watched. Then, he saw the pattern on the greatsword’s blade, hilt, and crossguard.

“Vaitas…?”

“Yes. Demon. Will you pray?”

“Inquisition Officer?! How are you here? Where did you catch the scent and crawl all the way here?”

Fernandez adjusted his grip on the hilt without answering. The demon soon frowned and growled.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re already too late! And with just three of you, what can a handful of mortals do in the north!”

“Speak your last words.”

Fernandez raised his blade as he watched the demon charge.

“I’ll show you now.”

The demon and the demon hunter clashed in the small clearing created by the retreating warriors. Swords, blood, and dirt scattered in all directions, painting a storm.

*

It was an unreal scene. Aeren, and the warriors, regardless of allegiance, stared blankly at the sight. The man who had suddenly entered the battlefield was literally grinding through the demons.

It was a literal meaning. Anger, then fear, and finally curses flowed from the demon’s eyes. The demon’s flesh fell away, its chest split open despite its thick armor, and its sturdy arms flung into the air.

The young man moved as if he had always known, or as if he could see the future. He swam through the gaps as the demon cursed, spewed corrosive breath, and slammed its sword into the ground.

-Crash!

Once again, the greatsword shone. The greatsword he held burned brighter and more intensely the more it drank the demon’s blood. This isn’t a battle; it’s a slaughter.

Aeren focused on how he wielded the greatsword. Ordinary martial arts or swordsmanship aims to achieve maximum efficiency with minimal movement.

But the young man’s swordsmanship was as rough as it was bold. As if made not for people but for hunting. As if designed and trained for creatures of that size.

That was Diemonica’s combat style. Not a form of swordsmanship or martial arts but closer to primitive hunting techniques. Not complex techniques but a close-combat style that maximizes physical performance.

-Clang! Crack!

The steel breastplate on the demon’s chest sparked and split in half, organs and blood gushing out. The young man, now behind the demon, spun cleanly in a circle. And that was it.

The demon’s head fell off. That was already the third one. Without a moment’s rest, he relentlessly pressed forward against a terrifying opponent that even three tribal warriors would struggle to defeat. He had slain three.

“He’s not human.”

Aeren muttered with certainty. It was the sentiment of everyone present. The men who had hesitated to approach Fernandez began to scatter and flee, ignoring the two remaining demons on the battlefield.

-Thud.

She turned her gaze to the sound of footsteps nearby. The beastwoman who had charged into the frontline with the young man and butchered the enemies stood there, her long black hair fluttering.

“Have you come from Valhalla to save us?”

“…?”

Kirhas tilted her head. Not understanding the northern language, she had been discerning friend from foe by the tone of their voices since arriving in this land.

She soon rummaged through her belongings and frowned. Her cherished pipe seemed to have been lost in the battle. She sighed and looked at the battlefield.

Fernandez was catching his breath, his sword embedded in the demon’s corpse. Abel was seen approaching him. She took out a handkerchief and wiped the bloodstains from Fernandez’s face, saying something.

Watching the scene, Kirhas sighed softly and closed her eyes. She thought she had taken a step forward, but now she was a lap behind.

‘Kadán, what should I do?’

Hunting means the entire process of pursuing prey. Therefore, as the huntress, she was confident in chasing after the man running away…

But always, he was too far, too fast. By the time she thought she had reached out to grab his clothes, he was already far ahead. Especially if the opponent was Abel.

It was exhausting. She stared at Fernandez as he approached. Fernandez was walking over, wiping his face with Abel’s handkerchief.

Fernandez, who had been walking towards Aeren, looked at her and tilted his head.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

Was it delusional to feel concern and warmth in his tone? Kirhas felt disgusted with herself for even thinking such thoughts and put on the brightest expression she could muster.

“Of course not, Your Excellency.”

Sorrow and pain shattered like fragments and lodged in her heart. But Kirhas was too upright a person to hate her rival or resent Fernandez.

She smiled and approached Fernandez, lightly grabbing his clothes.