"Alright, since this is a crisis, let's take care of those things first!"
Azadin soothed Zebeck as he loosed an arrow.
Thanks to Scott scattering the wendigos with magic beforehand, it was easier to shoot them. Wendigos might look like beasts on the surface, but in truth, they were practically undead—meaning that arrows alone couldn't kill them. So, Azadin, Midiam, and Ishmael aimed their arrows at the wendigos' knee joints to hinder their movements.
As the wendigos approached, Zebeck, Brock, Guillaumevalt, and Brand stood at the front lines. Wielding the steel sword he had received from Azadin, Zebeck slashed down the oncoming wendigos.
Since the wendigos hit in the knee couldn't move properly due to torn muscles and joints, they were not hard to deal with—even Guillaumevalt managed to take one down.
That defeated wendigo was then reanimated by Scott's necromancy and became a wall of flesh, holding off the oncoming wendigos.
"You damned orc! Just because I've kept quiet doesn't mean you can cross the line!"
Zebeck was furious at Scott's blatant use of necromancy.
"They're already undead!"
Scott replied as he continued casting.
'Well, there's a bit of discord, but things are going smoothly, aren't they?'
That was Azadin's assessment of the situation. These wendigos before them were certainly monsters—strong enough that if they struck with their forelegs, armor would crumple and people would die.
However, with their coordinated ranged attacks slowing down the wendigos' movements, Zebeck's swordsmanship, Brand's raw strength leading the charge, and Scott's necromancy supporting them in critical moments, they had become quite a formidable team.
On the other hand, Guillaumevalt and Brock were practically useless. Azadin had advised Guillaumevalt to use a spear instead of a sword, but after only a few tries, Guillaumevalt blocked a wendigo's foreleg with the spear, which promptly snapped, leaving him barehanded.
Brock fared a little better—he tried to help Guillaumevalt with a shield but got slammed by a wendigo's foreleg and went tumbling across the icy ground.
Despite these minor issues, the wendigos continued to fall one by one before the party.
But then—
"Hey, isn't it getting way too cold? How about you warm-blooded animals?"
The naga, Shati, asked that question.
"Hmm?"
Azadin, too, felt the chill creeping deeper into his body. With all the intense activity, his body temperature should've been rising, but the drop in surrounding temperature was far more severe.
They soon realized the reason. Wendigos that hadn't yet entered the confluence were exhaling frosty breaths from afar, lowering the temperature of the entire area.
"Well, this is..."
"Astonishing."
Though undead, their method of attack was cunning. Even without taking a direct hit from their freezing breath, the widespread drop in temperature posed a serious threat.
"W-what do we do? Warm-bloods?! I can't take this anymore!"
Shati, evidently sensitive to the cold, clutched her head in distress.
"What do we do? Like this!"
Azadin stepped forward and drew a wendigo's attack. As the creature lunged with a frosty breath, Azadin leapt over it, kicking it from behind and driving it into the point where the powers of the orc and Liz were clashing.
— Bzzzzzzzt!
As the wendigo reached the spot where the two mages' powers collided, lightning sparks erupted along its body, setting its fur ablaze. The smell of burning hair filled the air as the wendigo caught fire.
"One more!"
Azadin dashed toward another wendigo, its knee already struck by an arrow and now limping. He delivered a low kick, severing the creature's leg, grabbed its fallen body, spun it like a windmill, and hurled it. Once again, the wendigo landed in the mages' battlefield and burst into flames.
"Ugh! The smell!"
"Wait a second! What do you think you're doing?!"
Walter shouted in dismay.
"Y-yeah! Burning them doesn't even get rid of the cold! Just kill that orc already, and I'll deal with the wendigos myself!"
Liz was flustered too.
'Hmm. What now?'
If the wendigos kept releasing cold air like this, Azadin's group would soon be in real danger. But then—who should he choose?
Walter, the orc mage hired by the Naga Empire? Or Liz, a witch from Bruma who wielded nether magic?
Both were problematic.
'If it were up to me alone, I'd choose to save the orc mage.'
He could gain information on the Naga Empire, and he also harbored resentment toward Liz, who had harmed others without hesitation. But wouldn't killing her in front of her husband, Brock, be a bit much?
Besides, the solution Walter proposed involved destroying the Book of Divine King.
'Must I really choose one to die? There must be another way—but there's no time.'
Just then, Brock picked up his sword and approached the orc mage.
"I'll kill this orc! No matter what, I can't let him harm my wife!"
"Oh? Finally, I feel like marrying you was a good idea! I'll clear the way—strike him down!"
Liz was overjoyed that her husband had taken her side.
"You fool! I knew your kind were dumb, but this is a new level of stupidity!"
The orc mage Walter grabbed his axe-spear.
'That's a magic staff.'
Azadin recognized that the axe-spear Walter held was actually a magic staff with an axe head attached. At its core, it was still a staff—with just a large, heavy, and sharp steel ornament on top.
"This is no time to fear close combat!"
Walter gripped his 'staff' and swung.
— Klak!
Brock once again went flying across the icy ground. Having knocked Brock away in one blow, Walter pulled a copy of the Book of the Divine King from his robes and clutched it tightly.
"No! He's releasing mana!"
Scott screamed.
Indeed, as the light stored in the copy of the Book of the Divine King surged out, the delicate balance between the two mages' opposing powers tilted dramatically.
"Kyaaah!"
Liz was thrown back.
"Now that it's come to this—followers of Yaegas, deal with the wendigos yourselves!"
Orc mage Walter shouted as he charged toward Liz.
"Damn it!"
Zebeck stepped forward to protect Liz, but Walter, with terrifying momentum, swung his staff—which was practically an axe-spear.
Zebeck countered Walter with his sword, deliberately redirecting the blows to avoid a direct clash of weapons. It was obvious that if he let their weapons collide, he'd be overpowered by the brute strength of the orc, whose muscles were so massive they seemed burdensome.
But that meant he had to maintain his position while dodging the opponent's weapon. Even a master swordsman would find it difficult to do this against a novice, let alone a seasoned warrior.
And yet...
— Thwack!
Zebeck, as Walter's strike came down, subtly pressed against the rear of the axe-spear, forcing it to slam into the frozen floor of the sewer. Then, stepping forward, he slashed swiftly at Walter's neck.
"Hmph! Vajra Body Art!"
Walter cast a spell, turning his body as hard as steel, and deflected Zebeck's blade as it grazed his neck.
"Die, holy knight!"
He fired a colorless magic bullet with one hand toward Zebeck's torso. But Zebeck blocked it with a white magic shield.
It was an impressive feat. Typically, when one slashes their enemy's neck, they let down their guard. In the moment of dealing a critical blow, it's natural to relax the tension.
Walter had intentionally used his spell at the moment the blade neared his neck to absorb the attack and exploit the opening it would create.
Yet Zebeck had kept his guard up, responding instantly.
Walter changed his magic bullet stance into a fist and swung at Zebeck, but Zebeck caught the orc's punch with his palm, flung himself backward to absorb the force, and landed safely.
'Incredible.'
Azadin was impressed, realizing that Zebeck was far more skilled than expected. He'd always heard among the holy knights that Zebeck had some talent, but it was a mystery why someone like him remained unknown.
'Ah, right, he was said to be Zekt's disciple.'
Azadin recalled Judge Zekt, the one who had tormented him so much.
"Hmm."
But regardless, the result was still Walter's victory. He had maneuvered Zebeck out of the way and opened the path toward Liz.
"Well done. I'll take it from here."
This time, Azadin stepped in front of Walter.
"A Herald, huh."
Walter tensed his muscles. With a crack, his garments tore as massive muscles and bulging veins surfaced across his body.
"You've shortened my lifespan! I'll kill you!"
"That was an accident. Do we really have to go this far? I don't want to kill you."
"Silence! You inferior races dare challenge us, who are blessed by the god of the orcs, Kanak!? You mock the resolute will of one who fears not muscle acquisition and fights to the end!"
Apparently, for orcs, losing a fight is less terrifying than acquiring more muscle mass. Azadin let out a bitter smile.
"You truly won't compromise?"
"I won't! I've always been a devout follower of the Kurt Pantheon. Now that it's come to this, I'll kill all of you!"
"Now you're making it easier for me to kill you without guilt."
"You bastard!"
Walter charged at Azadin, swinging his staff—virtually an axe-spear—with one hand, while forming a magic bullet with the other and firing it.
Azadin calmly evaded the attacks and pulled out a traditional arrow, using it to deflect the incoming magic bullet.
"?!"
How could a slender arrow deflect a magic bullet strong enough to injure?
Because Azadin was spinning the arrow in his hand. It diverted the bullet's path while controlling the force of impact to prevent the arrow from breaking. It was a display of remarkable finesse and control.
Walter watched, inwardly startled.
'That holy knight earlier was impressive, but this one... this one feels alien.'
At that moment, Azadin kicked something up—it was a chunk of ice.
"Still not open to resolving this with words?"
"You bastard!"
"Pity."
Azadin threw the chunk of ice—but not at Walter. He hurled it at the ground.
— Crack!
The ice shattered on impact, and the shards scattered toward Walter.
"Gah!?"
Azadin swung his sword, shaving more ice from the frozen ground and sending it flying toward Walter in a flurry of icy shrapnel.
"You bastard! What are you—cough!"
Walter charged, but Azadin didn't engage him directly. He kept dodging and chipping at the ice, sending more shards flying into Walter's face.
"...Guh?! Cough!?"
The area was already frigid. Walter, having been active in this environment, now felt his airways slowly freezing. If he didn't control his breathing, ice particles would invade his lungs, triggering uncontrollable coughing.
"Cough, cough... Wh-what is this!?"
With his breathing obstructed, oxygen intake dropped. His enormous muscles, once his pride, became a burden—slowing him down.
"Urgh!"
— Thwack!
Azadin lightly stabbed the tip of his sword into Walter's thigh. Though the thick muscle stopped the blade from piercing deep, the precise, short stab caused enough bleeding. He then slashed at Walter's wrist and forearm, leaving him bloodied in an instant.
"Aaargh!"
Walter collapsed to the ground. He was already suffocating from a lack of oxygen—now with blood loss, his heart raced uncontrollably, and he could no longer keep up.
'This is bad!'
Blood loss increases heart rate and shortens breath. Already struggling to breathe, Walter now felt like he was drowning in thin air.
"Guh?! Hah... you bastard... you're sly!"
Walter realized with horror what Azadin had been aiming for with the ice shards.
"Not bad for a human, huh? So, tell me, is the only way to deal with the wendigos really by burning through the Book of Divine King?"
From behind Azadin's mask, a grim and murderous aura began to seep out.
But the orc mage Walter, with his crooked tusks protruding from his lips, smiled.