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Chapter 81

“Cough-! Huff-!”

Belatur expelled a mouthful of blood as he glared forward.

At the endpoint of that glare was a beautiful being who had suddenly appeared on the battlefield and was toying with him.

The man who had introduced himself as El Palas.

It wasn’t just this presence.

Clearly some kind of beast that walks the earth with Orcus, yet these humans with their long, beautifully sculpted ears had flown into the battlefield like butterflies and were devastating the surroundings.

More astonishingly, amidst the chaotic battlefield of death and killing, they showed the composure to avoid humans and only target the Orcs.

And among them, the Palas he was facing stood out with a remarkable presence.

Compared to the Orcs, whose width was less than half of his own, he appeared almost frail.

However, from the soles of his feet planted on the ground to the top of his head, his center of gravity was firmer than even Belatur’s.

The thick, solid muscles of the Orcs were covered with an equally thick layer of fat, making them appear clumsy, but this creature’s muscles rippled finely along the contours of his body. Every time they twitched, the shocks were powerful enough to disturb the surroundings.

“…What are you looking at?”

As a sense of battle-lust began to boil within Belatur, he furrowed his brows seeing Palas looking elsewhere.

At his words, Palas slowly turned his head to look at Belatur.

“Meh.”

As Palas casually dismissed him with an indifferent attitude, prominent veins bulged on Belatur’s furrowed brows.

With a guttural growl erupting from his mouth, Belatur’s figure appeared in front of Palas in an instant.

“Focus on this battle, you long-ear!”

Not a measured pace, but purely explosive movement due to his innate musculature.

So fast that dirt kicked up from his stomping foot briefly obscured the surrounding view, Belatur swung his cudgel to crush Palas’ skull.

But the cudgel was blocked by Palas’ palm.

‘It’s coming…!’

As Belatur felt the intense shock transmitted through the cudgel, his brows furrowed.

This side had the advantage in build and weight.

He also bore a large and sturdy cudgel, swung with enough distance to accelerate its speed.

Yet despite all this, when Palas extended his palm towards the incoming cudgel, it was Belatur who was sent flying instead.

An inexplicable force.

At first, Belatur had thought Palas might be a sorcerer similar to Orgin, but upon closer observation, it became clear that it wasn’t just about touch. He noticed Palas’ entire body convulsing violently the moment his hand made contact.

Whereas an Orc covered in a layer of fat might conceal the details, Palas’ muscles were so sculpted they seemed almost specimen-like. Every time they twitched, the movement was evident.

However, after a few exchanges, Belatur, from a precarious position, touched the ground with one hand to flip upside down. Using the rebounding force, he rotated and struck out with one leg toward Palas.

Kuung!

Despite the sudden stance and blow, Palas effortlessly took a single step back to avoid the impact. However, where Belatur’s foot had struck, the ground split, emitting a deep resonating sound.

Even with a force that would crush an ordinary human like a rock dropped from a city wall, Palas remained expressionless.

Belatur threw his cudgel.

Though Palas easily dodged it, the cudgel traveled on to shatter the skulls of three human soldiers fighting nearby before stopping.

But to both Palas and Belatur, such an outcome was of little consequence.

It seemed the act of throwing the cudgel was merely to shift attention. Just as he threw it, Belatur launched towards Palas from a blind spot created in the corner of the vision.

‘I will stop breathing. Moving at the fastest speed I can achieve, I’ll keep striking him without giving him any chance to dodge!’

Belatur’s approach was perfect.

Using his long arms to his advantage, he positioned himself where the opponent couldn’t reach him but he could strike with perfect precision.

Simultaneously abandoning any breathing intervals normally used for recovery, he attacked like a storm, his punches creating faint afterimages as they roiled the air.

When the punches finally ceased, the Orcs and Batár Army thought that Palas, who had been at the center of this violent storm, wouldn’t even leave a proper corpse.

But other Elves who were simultaneously clearing out the surrounding Orcs merely exchanged glances with expressions of ‘That’s expected’ and continued to watch.

“Huff…Huff…Huff…”

Belatur heavily breathed, his large torso expanding and contracting from the recoil of his relentless combo without drawing a single breath.

In front of him, Palas stood in the exact same stance as before, calm and unmoved.

“To… Huff… Have dodged all that…”

Belatur’s eyes were tinged with faint disbelief.

It was surprising enough that Palas had evaded all of his fastest punches, but more shockingly, the distance between Belatur and Palas had not changed one bit.

Palas had not moved a single step and yet had fully avoided all of Belatur’s punches.

“What audacity… you… What exactly are you…?”

Since his birth, Belatur had only seen beings with natural brute strength like the Aktics.

He’d seen beings like Orgin, wielding strange sorcery by communicating with powerful supernatural beings.

Every existence in the Eastern Continent fit into one of these two categories.

But neither appealed to Belatur.

He could never mimic the strength of the Aktics, nor could he replicate Orgin’s sorcery.

Even among the offspring of Algul, there were many who surpassed him from birth.

Thus, he sought something else.

Rather than envying or jealously pursuing what he could never achieve, it was better to find his own way.

Because ultimately, reaching victory was what mattered.

So he devised ways to win.

He thought of methods to defeat greater strength with lesser strength.

He learned techniques that utilized distance and mastered the use of weapons.

Violence was not the end goal.

He wanted to prove that the path he had chosen was the right one.

At first, he fought similar or weaker opponents to hone his senses.

To the Orcs, for whom violence was a means to achieve their desires and an unchanging symbol of power, Belatur’s pursuit of refining and perfecting it to reach greater heights was exceptional.

As he gradually defeated stronger opponents, eventually he overcame every child of Algul except Orgin.

When he reached the status of being third among all the Orcs outside of Orgin and Algul himself, he became known as the devout Belatur.

Thus, Belatur was confident.

Though he might lack innate divine strength, there could be no one more remarkable than himself in discerning the methods and techniques of combat through contemplation and practice.

But that confidence crumbled here.

Clearly, although they possessed far superior physical capabilities to the humans of old from the Eastern Continent, these long-eared beings were more fragile than the Orcs, who were made for battle.

But look around.

Men and women, these “long ears” were slaughtering the Orcs with their bare hands.

Belatur was being defeated by a race inherently weaker than his.

It was simple.

These long-eared beings were doing exactly what Belatur had spent his lifetime cultivating.

No, they were even surpassing that.

Even the ordinary members among them—excluding Palas—possessed physical strengths lesser than his, yet they had reached a far more profound level than what he sought all his life.

After a long pursuit, he could immediately perceive it.

Moreover, was this Palas, this existence that seemed to embody as reality everything Belatur had ever pursued, something he could reach in his lifetime? Would he even reach it in a thousand years?

“…If only… one real blow lands…”

Long-forgotten jealousy surged within him.

With these words, Palas paused as he slowly took a step towards Belatur.

“Do you believe that allowing one blow would mean victory for you?”

Palas’ voice sounded almost compassionate, but Belatur felt a mixture of shame and humiliation.

Palas seemed to ponder for a moment, then slowly spoke.

“…Then go ahead. I won’t evade. Let it hit me.”

A perfect disregard.

But the jealousy long dormant within him, that rare feeling, made him yearn for one chance more than anything else.

‘Their techniques might be unknown, but the physical body itself is slightly superior. If I hit them with all my power…!’

“… Quite blatant, aren’t you?”

“Do you intend to evade?”

“No, I don’t intend to. Rest assured.”

Placing both hands on the ground, he stretched his right leg outward for a foothold.

A stance clearly preparing to launch a full-force charge.

Any onlooker would agree.

But it was a stance entirely neglecting defense, with large and broad motions.

Such a form could not exist in a battle where each opponent’s moves were studied and countered.

A stance that only made sense if the other side was confident enough to simply withstand the attack.

Thus, Palas looked perplexed, but Belatur stifled the rising shame within himself.

His breath for a full-out charge ended, and simultaneously, where Belatur had been standing, a large imprint remained as his form vanished.

The Belatur class

The Bull Rush

Belatur’s body shot toward Palas like a cannonball materialized from a distant world.

And when he reached less than a foot away from Palas, for a brief moment, Belatur was certain.

Palas would surely die from his own arrogance.

Belatur locked eyes with Palas, hoping to see a flicker of regret in his eyes as the final moment arrived, but he found Palas’ expression still unmoved.

As the momentum of Belatur’s body collided with Palas, a massive shockwave reverberated through the surroundings.

The shockwave was so powerful it caused numerous people nearby to bleed from the ears and lose their balance.

“…Impossible…”

“Sinew Steel Armor. The name given to withstanding a full-force attack.”

Belatur’s full force merely caused Palas’s feet to step back about three paces.

And as Palas’ palm struck Belatur’s chest, he helplessly fell to his knees.

“… I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“Your movements, and the philosophy behind them. What exactly are they?”

“Martial Arts.”

“…Does it have a proper name?”

Belatur let out a bitter laugh.

“Are you… a god of martial arts?”

At this, a small smile spread across Palas’ previously expressionless face.

“Well. If there is someone in this world to be called the god of martial arts, there is only one person. If I must say, I am merely one of her faithful followers.”

“…Even in such a lofty realm?”

As stray thoughts disappeared, Belatur’s eyes reflected the figure of one who had achieved the ideal he had pursued his entire life, and he laughed bitterly.

With a resigned look, Belatur closed his eyes.

“It would have been nice to meet her just once.”

“That particular request is something I cannot accommodate.”

“… I should have requested an audience with the god of martial arts, not a final blow.”

Belatur’s body trembled once and a stream of blood trickled from his lips, his eyes beginning to lose their light.

It was due to the dark force emitted from Palas’ palm that had shattered his heart and torn apart the blood vessels throughout his body.

As Palas felt Belatur’s life force slipping away, he looked toward one direction.

The golden Elf who had just moments ago been watching with an arrogant expression was nowhere to be seen.

“… Damn Lizard, surely you haven’t gone to Araya?”

Palas frowned as he looked toward the direction where Araya’s presence could be felt.


Martial Elf

Martial Elf

Mushin Elf, 무신 엘프
Score 7.8
Status: Ongoing Type: Author: Released: 2022 Native Language: Korean
The last wish of a man who died suffering from a chronic disease: ‘I wanted to live long with a healthy body.’ And so, I got my wish.

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