Chapter 24

“Come then! I’ll carve you all into mincemeat!”

The voice of Sak-ho, the Raging Wave Sword, thundered across the plains. Due to the stagnant nature of the War Department, an organization that had long resisted generational turnover, Sak-ho was undeniably an old man. Yet his shout carried a ferocious spirit and momentum that transcended his waning vitality.

“What, no takers?!” he roared. “Fine. If you won’t come, I’m coming to you!”

“C-Commander?!” the adjutant of the 3rd Combat Unit cried out, finally realizing what was happening and reaching out to stop him. It was too late; by the time the adjutant spotted him, the Raging Wave Sword had already plunged alone into the thick of the enemy lines.

Sak-ho broke into a manic laugh as he carved his way forward. “Come on, you northern savages! All of you! Fight me!”

“(He’s charging us alone?)”

“(The old man has clearly lost his mind.)”

The Dread King’s Great Warriors were not men of deep patience, nor were they inclined to overlook such a reckless provocation. They had been effectively imprisoned within the command center, held back to counter a potential surprise assassination by Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon. Forced to watch with bloody tears as the warriors of the North were butchered by the Grand Young Master’s subordinates, their rage had reached a boiling point.

They needed a release. They needed to unleash their fury upon the battlefield, specifically upon this old man who clearly didn’t know his place.

“(I will be the one to kill him!)”

Without hesitation, the Great Warrior at the front sprinted toward the Raging Wave Sword like a sudden gale. Despite being a giant who stood two heads taller than his peers, his movements were anything but sluggish. He resembled an arrow shot from an iron bow across the horizon, his speed far outstripping the common warriors seen earlier in the battle.

“(Hraaaaagh!)”

A massive axe materialized in his grip, shimmering in the twilight. As he hoisted the heavy weapon, the muscles in his arms swelled like those of a monstrous beast. Show me those petty tricks of the Central Plains, old man! the giant thought. He had heard tales of the sophisticated martial arts of the south and knew that those of the Luoyang Sword Clan were considered the pinnacle. I’ll cleave you in half along with your little techniques!

He chose a single, devastating strike, a blow containing his entire being. Before a faster, stronger attack, technique was a meaningless trifle.

“(Die along with your gimmicks!)”

With that short sentence of execution, his axe blade descended toward Sak-ho’s helmet, carrying a momentum that seemed capable of splitting the very sky.

“Gimmicks…?”

The word twitched in Sak-ho’s ears beneath his helmet. Having traveled the North in his youth, he was fluent enough in their tongue to catch the insult. Lightning flashed in his eyes as his jaw tightened, his teeth grinding with enough force to strike sparks.

“Goddamn youuuuu!”

Sak-ho’s lead foot slammed into the earth. The impact revealed the preternatural development of his lower body, the muscles rippling clearly beneath his heavy plate armor.

“YOU LITTLE SHIT!”

His fighting spirit erupted from his upper danjeon, and every drop of internal energy in his body followed suit, surging forth in an explosive, howling tide. He eschewed all artifice, unleashing a raw, unadorned upward slash from his new heavy sword, the blade letting out a high-pitched scream.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The collision of axe and blade shattered the air, sending a violent shockwave rippling through the clearing. A pained groan escaped the giant’s lips at the unexpected force of the impact, but Sak-ho was in no better shape. Both men staggered, but it was the giant, with his superior physical frame, who was the first to recover his stance.

(This crazy old coot dares to…?!)

The giant was incredulous. To think a frail martial artist from the south would attempt to match a Great Warrior of the steppes in a test of pure strength! There was an unbridgeable gap between the physical conditions of the weak Southerners and the sons of the Great Plateau. He would make the old man regret his stupidity.

“(I’ll split you into two pieces!)”

The massive axe rose again, then plummeted like a falling star.

“Two pieces, you say?” Despite being physically outmatched and reeling from the previous blow, the Raging Wave Sword spun on his heel to stabilize his weight, and instead of retreating, unleashed yet another upward strike. “I THINK THAT’LL BE YOU!”

Once again, steel met steel in mid-air.

KA-THOOOOM!

The explosion was louder this time, the impact so violent that the surrounding earth buckled and groaned.

“Cough…!”

“(Gah…!)”

The shock to the duelists was immense. The giant Great Warrior’s eyes briefly rolled back into his head, showing only the whites before he forced his consciousness back to find Sak-ho.

This goddamn old man…! To his shock, the senior was still standing on his own two feet, despite swaying more violently than before.

“What are you looking at, you brat?!” Sak-ho barked. “I’m still alive!”

The sheer annoyance of the old man’s resilience ignited a fresh wave of fury. The giant’s mind went blank as his meager patience evaporated.

“(UAAAAAAAGH!)”

Vast rage transformed into a thunderous kiai, which in turn manifested as a surge of internal power. He drew natural energy from the sky and the earth, funneling it into his own frame. It was a mystery of the North, a realm of power that defied the logic and principles of Central Plains martial theory.

“(YOU OLD FUCK!)”

Bolstered by the surging aura, the giant appeared to double in size as he brought his axe down with the weight of the heavens. “(DIIIIIIE!)” He was certain this time. He would cleave the old man in two and end this farce.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

He realized his error a split second too late. An astronomical amount of shock reflected back into his own body from the strike.

“Gack…!”

Sak-ho, spitting blood from the impact, had met the blow with another upward slash.

“(Grrr…!)” The giant roared, intending to close the distance and crush the old man’s skull, but his legs suddenly buckled. A fountain of blood, mixed with bits of internal organs, erupted from his mouth.

The cumulative shock had pushed his blessed physique beyond its breaking point.

“(Hack… cough…!)”

But a Great Warrior of honor could not kneel before a withered old southerner. His pillar-like legs ground into the dirt, barely holding him upright.

His vision was a yellowed blur, and the sky, twilight and starlight mixing in the gloaming, seemed to spin around him.

Regardless, he would kill him. He had to. Moving in a state where consciousness and instinct were a tangled mess, the Great Warrior prepared one final blow. O Sky… O Ancestors of the Great Empire…!

The last thing he saw was the old man’s face.

“Is that all, boy?!”

Sak-ho’s bloodshot eyes were wide and terrifyingly lucid. Despite his age, the power radiating from him was stronger and faster than anything that had come before. It was an upward strike that looked ready to bisect the heavens.

“(…?!)”

This time, axe and sword never met. Sak-ho’s blade was too fast, too powerful. His upward slash reached its destination before the downward axe could even complete its arc.

Squelch.

The blade traced a line from the bottom of the giant’s torso to his crown with effortless, horrifying ease. It shimmered in the dying light as Sak-ho completed the movement, the steel letting out a clear, vibrant hum of victory.

SPLURT!

The giant Great Warrior’s massive frame split into two distinct halves, spraying a fountain of crimson blood as the remains tumbled to the earth.

Thump.

“Hehehehe…”

Sak-ho let out a raspy chuckle as he glanced at the bisected corpse. “Did you really think the elders of the Central Plains were all cunning cowards who relied on nothing but tricks?” He threw his head back and laughed, a sound that was both jovial and chilling, as he raised his blue-tinted longsword.

“Who’s next?!” he bellowed at the remaining Great Warriors. “I am Sak-ho, the Raging Wave Sword!”

His shout was deafening. Even as blood leaked from his nose, mouth, and eyes, bleeding from all seven orifices, his roar overwhelmed the battlefield.

“…”

“…”

After a momentary, stunned silence, a roar answered him from his own lines. “WAAAAAAAAGH!” The men of the 3rd Combat Unit cheered until their lungs burned. It had been a primitive, brutal duel, but nothing was more effective at stoking the fires of morale on such a field.

“Hahahaha!” Satisfied, Sak-ho waved his blade in the air. “You bastards! Your voices are too quiet! Shout louder!”

In the midst of his celebration, a familiar face appeared in the ranks. His adjutant was shouting something frantically from the line, his face a mask of panic.

“What?” Sak-ho couldn’t hear him over the din, but his battle-hardened instincts suddenly screamed. A cold chill raced down his spine. “Behind me…?!”

He whirled around, dropping into a defensive stance.

“(UOOOOOOOOOH!)”

“(CARVE THAT OLD MAN INTO PIECES!)”

“(BROTHERS! RECLAIM OUR HONOR!)”

A tide of Great Warriors was charging him all at once, their eyes bloodshot with collective madness.

“Uh-oh,” Sak-ho muttered. This wasn’t the plan. “Hey! Hey, you dishonorable shits!”

He turned and began to sprint for his life back toward his own lines. “This is a duel between generals! One at a time! Come one at a time!”

But he was drained. He had poured an immense amount of internal energy into his previous confrontation. Huff… dammit… huff! The distance to his own lines, which had seemed so short when he charged, now felt like a thousand miles.

“(HRAAAAAAGH!)”

The killing intent of the closest pursuer practically slapped the back of his head. Sak-ho realized he wouldn’t make it. He would have to stand and die. “Fuck it…!”

He dug his heel into the dirt, preparing to spin and use the momentum for one last desperate rotation.

CLANG!

The enemy’s weapon was deflected right before his eyes, showering the ground with sparks.

K-K-K-K-K-RACK!

A storm of steel, a barrage of strikes so rapid and chaotic they resembled a localized typhoon, shredded the lead Great Warrior into ribbons of meat.

“…”

A familiar, melodic voice drifted to the stunned Sak-ho. “On the vast plains, there is no shelter from the storm.”

Sak-ho’s face brightened at the poetic cadence. “Mourning Scholar!”

Mourning Scholar gestured over his shoulder. “The other Sword Clan generals will be here shortly.”

“Excellent! FANTASTIC!” Suddenly revitalized, Sak-ho turned back toward the hesitating Great Warriors and screamed in their own language. “(Come then! You cowardly northern shits!)”

He chose to ignore the long, weary sigh that Mourning Scholar let out behind him.