Burnout, a divine gift that grants the Hero Brandon Von Guttur the ability to bring out the full potential of any enchanted weapon he wields, increasing the effectiveness of its enchantment until the weapon reaches its limit and breaks.
"Thus, earning him the title Weapon Breaker," Lynn said, ending her brief explanation about the commander of the expedition.
Arezu and Beatrix appreciated Lynn's thoughtfulness in sharing what she knew about the commander and his divine gift as one of the heroes of the Eileen Kingdom. Yet, one concerning thought kept bothering them.
Was that something she was even supposed to know?
"So that's why my old man keeps refusing to craft enchanted weapons for that person."
Hearing Beatrix's remark—and seeing the uneasy expression she wore as she stared at Lynn—told Arezu the answer to his unspoken question.
If Beatrix, a local of the capital, didn't know about the details of the commander's divine gift, then it meant it wasn't publicly disclosed—something that was supposed to be classified.
How Lynn was acquiring that kind of classified information, Arezu could only wonder. He just hoped it wouldn't bring trouble to him or their party.
"You two are getting along and being rude to me, aren't you?" Lynn said, pouting as she noticed Arezu and Beatrix's uneasy expressions.
Though he was wary of Lynn's slowly growing tantrum, Arezu couldn't afford to focus on her right now. After all, the battle between the commander and the king of werewolves was about to begin.
Pulling out the spear that had impaled its torso, the Lycan dropped it on the ground in front of the commander—as if returning it—and showed its wound quickly closing and healing.
"You will regret returning this spear to my hand, king of werewolves."
With those words, the bloodstained silver spear lying on the ground floated into the air and shot forth, returning to the commander's right hand as if it had a will of its own.
"It's the spear's enchantment effect, Mr. Arezu," Lynn said, noticing him lock eyes on the moving weapon.
"I was at least able to figure that out, Lynn," Arezu muttered, not wanting to be called a country bumpkin by her again.
The moment the spear returned to the commander's hand, the Lycan made its move.
Despite its massive body, the Lycan struck swiftly, aiming to impale the commander with its sharp claws. Yet its claws pierced nothing but the ground where the commander had stood a moment earlier.
Without anyone noticing his footwork—not even Arezu—the commander had dodged the Lycan's strike.
It wasn't a leap backward or a swift stride—it was more accurate to say the commander had blinked, disappearing from where he stood and reappearing farther from the Lycan.
"I think that's one of the enchantment effects of his golden armor..."
Giving as much attention to Lynn's remarks as he could, Arezu continued to observe the fight.
'Ballista'
Imbuing mana into his weapon to activate a combat skill, the commander hurled his second spear at a speed the Lycan couldn't evade. Still, it managed to raise its guard, covering its chest—where the spear was aimed—with both arms.
Though the spear failed to pierce the Lycan's guard and shattered on impact, the wall-breaking force of the combat skill Ballista blew the four-meter-tall Lycan away from the cavalry.
Still, it remained standing after landing.
—ROAR!—
A loud roar resounded throughout the southern forest road, followed by a transformation in the Lycan. Its body was enveloped in a thick, black aura visible to the naked eye; its claws and fangs grew longer and more menacing, and its eyes began to glow bloodshot red.
Arezu couldn't fully comprehend the mystery behind the Lycan's transformation, but he at least understood the reason: the Lycan now recognized the commander as a worthy opponent—not just prey.
—ROAR!—
With another roar, the Lycan charged toward the commander at a speed only a few among the caravan's fighters—including Arezu—could follow with their eyes.
Regardless, the commander didn't back down.
Impaling his remaining bloodstained spear into the ground, the commander drew both longswords sheathed at his belt and swiftly charged at blinding speed to intercept the Lycan.
Blades and armor clashed in a contest of speed and durability.
Whose blades would land strike after strike faster?
Whose armor was stronger, more durable, able to withstand blow after blow?
Taking damage yet holding their ground, neither the commander nor the Lycan gave in. Both refused to be the one pushed back. Neither accepted being the one to go down. Neither would allow themselves to be the prey.
—ROAR!—
Another roar escaped from the Lycan's jaws. The black aura covering its body thickened, its claws and fangs grew even larger and more fearsome, and its eyes glowed as if burning with fire.
For a moment, the tide shifted in favor of the Lycan. Its claw attacks began chipping the commander's armor, forming visible cracks, while the commander's strikes against the Lycan's guarded body chipped the blades of his dual longswords.
This sudden change in the Lycan signaled its increase in strength. It was giving everything it had.
Even as a monster filled with hatred toward humanity, the commander didn't hesitate to show respect to his enemy.
After all, he was a warrior who believed that if an enemy fought with all their strength, it was only right to answer with the same.
"Burnout"
With the activation of his divine gift, the commander's weapons and armor began to emit a faint glow, illuminating the battlefield dimmed by the Lycan's black aura.
In that moment, the tide turned in favor of the commander. His longswords now cleaved through the Lycan's guarded body and cut into its flesh, while the Lycan's claws began to chip from clashing against the glowing armor.
But that didn't mean the commander wasn't paying a price.
The divine gift Burnout, which unleashed the full potential of any enchanted weapon or armor until it reached its limits and broke, had begun taking its toll. The commander's longswords and armor slowly began to break on their own.
Regardless, by the time the golden armor fell apart, the Lycan's claws were already shattered—its hands bleeding from injuries. And before the silver longswords finally shattered, the Lycan's body had been slashed open, covered in bleeding wounds.
The king of werewolves knelt once again before the commander, losing its ability to heal.
—ROAR!—
Still refusing defeat, the Lycan unleashed one final strike.
Even kneeling, it remained taller than the commander. All it had to do was open its jaws—large enough to bite a man in half—and strike before the commander could grab the greatswords strapped to his back.
But the commander didn't need to reach for them.
His bloodstained silver spear, left earlier impaled in the ground, shot forth—moving toward his right hand.
'Pierce'
With the spear now in hand, the commander imbued it with mana, activating another combat skill—impaling the Lycan from the base of its jaw through its skull. Its jaws closed with a snap, unable to reach the commander.
Thus, the king of werewolves fell, and the battle came to an end.
—"WAAAARGH!"—
And the entire cavalry roared in victorious cheer.
"What a show-off, right, Mr. Arezu?"
"Well... it is the commander's role to be a show-off, Lynn."