The surroundings blazed as bright as midday.
Consequently, everything was clearly visible: Barsabe, sprawled out and caked in blood; the puppeteers huddled together with greedy expressions; and even Rutherford, who was stepping back in alarm.
Is that bastard alone? The magic swordsmen drew their blades, while the Ruswena mages tried to retreat and observe just as they had done earlier, looking as if they had no intention of wasting energy on a pointless battle.
Ta-at!
However, when Jeirutt, Hale, and Nakina soared up from below the cliff and revealed themselves, the Ruswena mages grimaced in dismay.
They were undoubtedly Bariel mages. Those tenacious bastards hadn’t stopped their pursuit even in the dead of night. Their presence here meant that their Minister, Ian Hielo, could arrive at any moment.
“Barsabe!”
“Nakina, guard us. I am going to infuse mana into Barsabe.”
“Yes, understood, Captain.”
Jeirutt’s white shirt, as he embraced Barsabe, was instantly stained with dark, red blood. Is she dead? Is she breathing? Jeirutt pressed his ear to her face, focusing all his senses to catch the sound of respiration. But her breath was so faint and fragile that he heard nothing.
Is it buried by the wind? Yes. It had to be. It wasn’t that he couldn’t hear it; it was simply being drowned out.
“Commander Jeirutt. Please step aside for a moment.”
Ziiing. Woong.
Hale grabbed Barsabe’s hand without hesitation and began pouring in mana. Her hand was freezing cold. It felt like holding a corpse. Yet, he maintained his composure and focused on channeling the flow.
“I asked you a question, you shit-heads. What did you do to the missing molar?”
“H-Hieek! W-We know nothing!”
“Lord Rutherford, d-do something!”
“Two mages, two magic swordsmen.”
“Hey, Ruswena! This looks doable, doesn’t it? Don’t think about backing out—help us! If you don’t, you die. Either by us, or by them.”
Beric scanned the enemies with sharp eyes. The punk-ass bastards on the left were magic swordsmen, and the ones standing aloof in the back right were the Ruswena mages.
And in the middle, radiating an instinctively unlucky aura… Beric pointed his sword at the man and muttered.
“Shit, you must be Rutherford.”
Long, flowing hair, copper skin, and an arrogant face to boot. Beric rolled up his sleeves and grinned.
“I’ve heard your name until my ears bled, but seeing you in person is a first. Nice to meet you, huh? I really wanted to see you.”
“I do not know who you are.”
“I’m Beric. Ian’s friend.”
“Ah, Ian Hielo?”
“Thanks to you, you bastard! I’ve been suffering like a dog for ten fucking years!”
Chwa-aaak!
As Beric put strength into his toes and dashed forward, flames surged around him.
Realizing his aura was formidable, the magic swordsmen moved left and right to block the path to Rutherford.
“And a bunch of our kids died because of you!”
“Block him! Right side!”
“Gasp! T-This bastard… why is he so fast?”
“I’ve been suffering ever since I left home! I was pissed I never got to see your face, but today settles everything!”
“Aaaagh! Help me!”
“Wash your neck and wait! I’m going to slice it cleanly!”
Chae-aeng! Cheng!
Puw-wung!
Beric shouted as he cleanly cut down a magic swordsman blocking his path. Was that bandage wrapped around his stomach just for decoration? The injury looked severe, yet his power was astonishing.
The Ruswena mages nodded to each other, burst their remaining mana, and joined the fray.
“Ruswena! We didn’t finish settling the score this afternoon, did we?!”
Whoosh!
Mana shaped like a whip flew toward Beric’s exposed back, but Nakina effortlessly swatted it away, guarding him.
Realizing the situation was turning critical, the puppeteers slowly backed away, then turned to sprint across the vast field. They intended to hide below the cliff while the magic swordsmen and mages bought them time.
“R-Run! Flee!”
“The cliff cuts off fresh down that way!”
“Hieek! Damn it. This is why I didn’t want to come out.”
Only one goal existed in the puppeteers’ minds alongside their terror: to survive and return to Toolun.
But at that moment—
The sky flashed, and a massive pillar of light slammed down in front of them.
Kwah-ang!
Pajijik! Crackle!
A thunderbolt from a dry sky.
As the puppeteers turned back in terror, a sweating Jeirutt was glaring at them, breathing heavily.
“I-Is that old man a magic swordsman too?”
“He looks like he’s in the worst condition, though.”
“Can’t we take him?”
“If you go, I’ll help.”
“No, if you go, I’ll help!”
“Shut up!”
Jeirutt’s thunderous shout fell upon the puppeteers pushing each other forward. He glanced repeatedly at the mangled Barsabe, making no effort to hide the tremor of rage in his voice.
“Confess what you did to Barsabe. If you do not, I will grind your heads in half next time.”
It was horrific. Losing other members had been heartbreaking, but at least they had died honorably in battle.
But Barsabe’s condition was far from honorable; it was smeared with disgrace and shame. Jeirutt could not endure seeing his subordinate—the daughter of his close friend—meet her end in such a way.
“Lord Rutherford!”
The puppeteers rolled their eyes wildly before sprinting back toward Rutherford. You ordered it, so you deal with it!
But the magic swordsmen and mages had no spare capacity as they tried to hold off Beric and Nakina, and Rutherford simply stood there, motionless, as if his soul had left him.
“Lord Rutherford!”
Everyone’s shouts felt like rippling waves in his head. His stomach churned as if he had swallowed gallons of saltwater, and blood rushed to his head.
Rutherford clutched his pounding heart and called out to God. Just as he had in the abyss, a prayer begging to be saved once more pierced him to the bone, but no sound came out of his mouth.
“You son of a bitch!”
In that instant, Beric gritted his teeth and lunged at Rutherford. Rutherford raised both hands and reflexively created Idgal.
Chwa-aak!
Small crystals, protruding like awls, grazed Beric’s earlobe. Blood trickled down, but through that tiny scratch, Beric felt the energy of his entire body leaking away.
Beric clutched his injured ear in surprise, but only for a moment—
Rutherford simply continued to create Idgal subconsciously, attacking wildly. Unlike his long robes that flowed smoothly with his punches, his eyes were empty.
“Beric! Careful! I’ve been hit by that, I know it!”
Nakina shouted, having grasped the situation, but she too froze in puzzlement upon seeing Rutherford’s expression.
That expression… it looked as if a man stripped of his soul was moving on instinct alone. The thrashing of a hollow shell desperate to live.
Beric clicked his tongue in annoyance, while Rutherford, still cut off from the outside world, was being consumed by the chaos in his mind.
“For a cheap knock-off.”
He’s doing everything Ian does, isn’t he?
Beric ignored his fading mana and drew the sword at his waist. To cut down something like that, cold steel was enough.
What?
Meanwhile, Rutherford frowned at Beric’s whisper.
A fake? Me? What is?
If one were to be technical, wasn’t Ian the fake? He was wearing the shell of green eyes over his original blue ones. So who was this guy calling a fake?
“Then take a hit. Your body will learn quickly enough whether this is real or fake.”
Chae-aeng! Cheng!
Rutherford’s eyes flashed as he continued to generate Idgal from his fingertips. The barrage spewed out like a swarm of flies. It wasn’t threatening, but it was an incredibly annoying attack, so Beric glared at him with irritation.
Krr-rruk!
Blades locked, and as the two men drew close, Beric glared at him and spat in his face. Ptui! It was a blatant display of treating him like filth.
“……!”
It was calmer than expected, but the reaction was definite. Rutherford felt absurd and bewildered, then enraged, creating an even larger Idgal.
“Why? Feel like shit?”
“…I swear this one thing. I will tear you to shreds and throw you off the cliff before I leave.”
“That’s a long-winded way to say you’re running away. Acting like a noble lord with that pathetic look—bullshit. You swore an oath? I’ll make one too.”
Krr-rruk!
Beric’s red eyes sparkled, containing a hint of laughter. The more the blades grazed him, the more his blood pumped and his excitement rose. And to face Rutherford, of all people…
He would capture this bastard alive and offer him to Ian. By doing so, he would fill, at least a little, the emptiness he had felt from Ian’s absence over the last ten years.
“I will make you kneel before Ian.”
The humiliation Ian had shown before the mages.
“Let’s do this right. Huh? If you can’t keep your oath, you pay with your life.”
Just paying it back exactly would be a shame, so he’d return it several times over. Wasn’t that the way of the world?
Rutherford’s eyes trembled, but the corners of his mouth were creeping upward.
If I die, so be it.
It was a curse he had experienced hundreds, thousands of times. From Vandor to Rutherford—what would change with just one more death?
Even if everything he had built as Rutherford was suitable to threaten Bariel, this surely wasn’t the only opportunity.
There would be a next time. A next time.
Despairingly, a next time…
-To the cliff.
“……!”
Rutherford shuddered at the voice ringing in his ear. It was a divine revelation. God was reaching out his hand once more to show him the way out.
His emotion was brief, for Beric’s fist slammed into him.
Puck!
His body tumbled, and his consciousness grew dim, but Rutherford planted his hands on the ground and extended Idgal like a fence. Do not come closer. Simultaneously, dark red clots of blood dripped from his nose and mouth.
“I didn’t hit you that hard, did I?”
“You lowly thing who knows nothing.”
“And you got beaten up by that lowly thing?”
Ptoo! Rutherford spat out blood as if accustomed to it and smiled. His white teeth were all stained red, making him look like the manifestation of a demon.
But in that moment, he felt his own life being gnawed away as the price for creating Idgal.
“Oh?”
As Rutherford stumbled backward, Beric’s eyebrows arched. What is he trying to do now? But the realization came a split second later—
Hale, who was tending to Barsabe, shouted.
“Beric! Stop him!”
“Ah! Okay!”
He intended to fall off the cliff.
He might lose his life, but for now, it was the only way to shake off the pursuit. Unless one of the Ruswena mages used forbidden magic, there was no other choice.
Ta-at!
“Beric!”
“You madman!”
Rutherford threw his body without hesitation, following the voice of his god, and Beric followed him instantly.
Nakina shouted in surprise but couldn’t approach. She was blocking the opposing magic swordsmen and mages simultaneously.
KABOOM!
“Wh-What is that?”
A massive vibration resonated from deep within the earth below.
Nakina crouched low, and the enemies also held their breath in wariness.
Rum-ble!
“Shit, what is this! Commander Jeirutt! Captain Hale! What do we do now?”
“Captain Hale, please escort Barsabe to Aguiar first. I will handle things here, so I entrust her to you.”
“No, I will remain as well. Nakina! You take Barsabe. She needs treatment immediately. There isn’t a patch of unmarred flesh on her.”
“Captain!”
“I will not accept objections. I am your Captain.”
At Hale’s stern rebuke, Nakina hoisted Barsabe onto her back and flew up.
Jeirutt then pointed toward the bottom of the cliff and spoke to Hale.
“You can fly freely, so please check below the cliff. I will hold these ones here.”
“Understood.”
Beric, that puppy-like bastard.
The two men thought the same thing simultaneously as they split front and back. It was mostly a lull in the fighting, but the enemy numbers were too overwhelming. And Jeirutt was in poor condition.
But, it was doable.
No, they could do it.
Ziiing!
Woong!
As he drew his lightning sword and wiped the sweat from his chin, the sound of a buffalo horn trumpet was heard from the distance.
Boooo—
Boo—
It was Bariel’s scout troop. And racing at the lead was a man whose gray hair suited the darkness well—
“Surround them!”
It was Xiaoshi.