Claude Rain continuously moved his legs. He leaped over trenches and charged through the bombardment.
The swift movement prevented the soldiers of the Azoff National Liberation Front who were aiming their guns from the trench from pulling the trigger.
How fast he was, he brushed past his allies in an instant.
“d*mn, did you see that?!”
“It’s one of those Ukhraine scums!! sh**t!! What are you idiots doing!!”
Although they raised their guns at the passing Claude Rain, it was too late.
Thud.
“What is this?”
“??”
“Ch, Chrolyt…”
BANG!!
A bomb that Claude had previously thrown exploded, turning them into ashes.
He always preferred to be alone.
Moving alone on the battlefield was almost like s*icide, but for Claude, it was the opposite.
To him, the presence of allies was more like a burden than anything else.
When moving alone, he didn’t have to consider many things. He didn’t need to risk his life to save endangered allies, nor did he need to meticulously adjust the deployed forces one by one.
If seen, sh**t.
If no bullets, use a sword.
If no sword, release mana.
In contrast, the other scenario was much simpler.
Get shot?
Either d*e or survive.
If he couldn’t k*ll with one shot, then Claude would never fall. He would track down the enemy who dared to aim at him and cut their throat.
A slaughterer of thunderbolts.
Was there a more fitting nickname for Claude Rain?
Only corpses remained where the purple lightning had swept by.
It brought awe to his allies and fear to his enemies.
‘One, two, five. North 600.’
Claude Rain’s eyes rapidly shifted as he quickly assessed the number of people and measured the distance to those targeting him.
Partizan!!
“Chain Lightning!!”
Purple mana spewed out, and sharp electric chains entangled five Azoff soldiers.
“Aaah!!!”
The troops in the trench were crushed as they were instantly destroyed by the electric shock. He continued to charge in the direction where gunshots echoed.
‘The rifle has seven shots. The pistol has six. A total of thirteen. Mana… I can probably use intermediate magic about ten times in the future.’
While people call me a monster outside, his magical talent wasn’t overwhelmingly superior compared to other mages.
A second-class violet mage.
Unlike the first-class mages recognized by the country such as Lumina Blue, Bella Meyer, and Roxanna Elrim,
Second-class Claude Rain couldn’t just recklessly cast spells.
However, it was enough.
For the sake of killing the old man from Alamuut, he needed to pour all his efforts without considering efficiency.
In front of his eyes,
Purple flames erupted not far from the trench, followed by a gunshot.
And the distinct scent of a nightmare.
“—!!!”
Claude Rain gritted his teeth and ran. It was the old man from Alamuut. His intuition told him so.
The only hope in the unfortunate life of the troublemaker who lived his entire life in the back alleys.
Lilia.
The one who mocked and tortured her until he extracted her heart was right there in front of him.
An archenemy he couldn’t forgive, someone whose life he must end even if it meant sacrificing his own.
Claude threw himself toward the trench as if possessed.
Finally,
He saw the old man’s face aiming a g*n at Hilton Callia.
Hilton’s expression was distorted with pain.
A red line of bl**d flowing from his shoulder.
A revolver smoking with fire.
A faint smile on the old man’s face.
The reason he didn’t k*ll her in one go was likely the same as 10 years ago.
The old man from Alamuut was enjoying it.
Just like he did to his wife.
This time, to his subordinates.
He poured out his disgusting desires.
—
“Hasan Kursheeeaaaaaarrrr!!!!”
A name only he knew.
k*ll him.
He will k*ll him, and drench the floor with his bl**d.
With a roar like a beast, Claude pulled the trigger.
BANG! BANG!! BANG!!
Empty shell casings rolled on the ground. Hasan Kurshe immediately snapped his fingers, and his form turned into smoke and vanished.
The b*llet aimed at the old man pierced through the head of the shaman standing behind him.
“Hilton!!!”
“…C-Captain.”
Her lips, dyed red with bl**d, twitched slightly.
His heart ached as if it had been pricked by a needle. When had he last felt such emotion?
Since the cruel d*ath of his wife, pity had been a non-existent emotion for him. To feel pity was to do something only for someone more unfortunate than oneself.
To show pity to anyone, even to someone who had fallen into a dark abyss like himself, was something he considered beyond his capabilities.
But the emotion Claude felt towards Hilton Callia was undoubtedly pity.
A specter trapped in memories of a terrible past, just like him.
Even after ten years, she had clung to unresolved emotions and nurtured hatred towards Azoff.
Perhaps that’s why.
Claude empathized with Hilton Callia’s feelings for the first time.
Among his subordinates, superiors, and peers, none had made him feel such empathy before Hilton Callia.
“Endure a little longer… I’ll definitely get you out of here.”
Claude said as he picked her up. Hilton’s hand slowly rose to caress his cheek.
“Don’t force yourself.”
Her eyes closed. She had finally reached her limit. Her condition was utterly dire, even for someone who had endured so much.
It wasn’t just the gunshot wound.
One leg bore clear marks of a burn, and the cold, clammy skin indicated the effects of curses handled by Alamuut.
Signs of torture.
Seeing such actions calmly amidst the battlefield, Claude’s eyes flared with anger.
“Claude Rain.”
The devilish voice reverberated right next to his eardrum. Putting Hilton Callia aside by the trench, Claude drew his dagger.
A pistol in one hand, a dagger in the other.
“It’s been a while.”
“Did we really have the chance to exchange pleasantries like this?”
Flash!
A flash of light, and Claude’s body started accelerating. At a speed that was hard to follow, the air burst with a shockwave that shook the trench.
Partisan, KIIIIIING!!!
The electrified blade aimed precisely at the old man’s neck, but the trajectory of the blade wavered just before it touched his skin.
A strange power that disrupted the highly concentrated flow of mana.
Azoff’s sorcery.
“I had a feeling I’d meet you today. I’m truly delighted to see you again.”
Hasan, who easily dodged Claude’s strike, smiled broadly.
The Slaughterer of Thunder did not respond.
If deflected, he would push until it pierced through.
CLANG, CLANGGAGAK!
KIIIIING!! Partisan!!
The invisible barrier caused the blade to slip. The lightning flickering in the air scattered and disappeared.
“Even after ten years, you haven’t rusted at all!! You’ve become even sharper, hahaha!!”
CRUNCH.
Move faster.
Stronger, more accurately, and more sharply!!
He gripped the dagger and swung it. The resistance he felt at the tip of his finger. He pushed into the moment of manifestation of the spell.
“?! ”
“You son of a b*tch—!!!”
A single word spat out with ten years of resentment.
*SPLAT, ZZZZUT!!
The gap in the spell barrier, which had never been penetrated, was breached by a violet lightning. Hasan’s composed gaze faltered, and he instinctively leaned back quickly.
He had cut him.
But shallowly.
Hasan Kurshe grabbed the scar left on his neck. bl**d dripped between his fingers.
“Amazing. Amazing, truly amazing…”
Back then,
Alamuut had successfully used a large-scale spatial teleportation spell to move the sons of Azoff to their homeland after annihilating the 42nd regiment and desecrating their bodies to complete a massive ritual.
While the Ukhraine army was in disarray without a target,
Alamuut’s special unit, including Hasan Kurshe, was preparing to withdraw leisurely.
There were no forces tracking them. By the time they realized and chased after them, it would already be too late.
Strategically defeated,
they could achieve a tactical victory in the future.
And that’s when he appeared.
Claude Rain.
Just a corporal. The shamans who rushed forward, distracted by his V-shaped rank insignia, had their heads severed by the blinding flash.
A wild beast charging forward against the backdrop of falling red raindrops.
The twenty elite members of Alamuut were wiped out by a single Ukhraine mage.
-A fierce beast. Was there such a warrior in Ukhraine?
-Stand still…
-I am Hasan Kurshe, the old man of Alamuut. I look forward to meeting you again, Corporal Claude Rain.
While the frenzied Claude massacred the members of Alamuut, Hasan Kurshe completed his ritual.
Vanishing before his eyes, leaving only his name.
That was ten years ago.
And history repeats itself.
“At last, we meet again, Slaughterer of Thunder.”
“I’ll tear your body apart so no one can recognize you.”
Partisan!!
Rumbling, BANG!!
Lightning of different colors collided, and the two predators lunged almost simultaneously.
