"People die anyway."
"Whew, that was good."
"Roman, I'm counting on you for the city."
"Enkrid, thank you."
"Ah, that was fun."
The words Oara spoke just before her death—they remained beyond memory, etched unforgettably.
Some memories never left his mind no matter how many todays he repeated.
The repeating today didn't come with the blessing of oblivion, did it?
The Ferryman had once said something like that. So if you wanted to forget that painful thing, you should just remain in today, he'd said.
Snap, crackle.
Smoke rising from the burning campfire reached all the way to the cave ceiling. The smoke that rose disappeared as it seeped into the ceiling. A choking smell pierced his nostrils.
The Oara who'd beheaded a fragment of the Balrog.
The Oara who'd appeared in his dream and was dragged away by the Balrog.
The Oara who'd used her oath as a shield and her smile as a sword.
The Oara who'd ultimately protected the city, carved her name into that city, and departed—that knight Oara now sat before Enkrid and gestured.
"Hey, come here. Let's talk."
At her familiar demeanor, Enkrid moved his feet. As he moved, his eyes scanned behind where Oara sat, then looked back at her eyes.
Would she suddenly swing her sword? Would her eyes turn red and she'd attack him to fight? It was just intuition, but that didn't seem likely.
Oara sat on a small stone, and there was a similar stone to the side of the campfire. Enkrid sat on it.
That Oara opened her mouth and asked.
"Have you been well?"
"Very much so."
"You look it. You're a knight now?"
"Yes."
"Then I guess I should start calling you Sir Enkrid now."
Oara said with a bright smile. She wasn't surprised to see Enkrid.
The red light of the campfire illuminated half of Oara's pale face. Only a constant smile was visible. When Enkrid didn't answer, she spoke again.
"Is Roman doing well?"
"That halfwit was showing off trying to improve his skills and nearly got eaten by a parasite."
"That Roman?"
Oara laughed out loud, then spoke again.
"Tell me in detail."
The two chatted. It wasn't hot or cold, and though they were inside a cave, it wasn't humid or dry either.
It was cozy, quiet, and peaceful.
It felt like coming home after pushing through a midwinter blizzard, washing up, and having a conversation over hot chocolate.
"Fools."
Oara sometimes laughed and sometimes frowned. She acted like a living person.
But she wasn't. The night she killed the Balrog's fragment, in that night's dream, she was dragged away by the Balrog.
'Soul Collector.'
Another epithet for the Balrog.
Before he could even ask what had happened, Oara said with a wide grin.
"That bastard was hard to beat."
What was before his eyes now was a part of Oara.
He'd experienced something similar with the Demon Sword Tutor, Aker, the weapon left behind by a knight. However, she was bound here because she died to the Balrog against her will.
"Well, I'd appreciate it if you'd free me. I tried to do it myself but failed."
The cozy, quiet, and peaceful atmosphere vanished. Oara's smiling face didn't change, but the mood shifted.
"It's here."
Oara spoke and groaned as she stood up. There was no reason for someone who'd become a knight to groan just from standing up. She was signaling to Enkrid that she was getting up.
"Be careful."
She spoke with sincerity.
This place was like a wide clearing.
Unlike the passage they'd come through, the ceiling was high and the walls were far away. By Enkrid's senses, it was wide enough to easily fit hundreds of people. The ground was level and there were no particular structures.
The only unusual thing was that the walls narrowed as they went up.
From the narrow hole in the ceiling, moonlight seeped down at some point.
Tonight's moon was red. It was a Red Moon. Both moons were stained completely red, illuminating Oara's body.
She walked beyond the range illuminated by the campfire, and the fire blazing from the campfire followed her, then began stretching long along her left arm.
Whoooosh.
The stretched flames coiled around Oara's hand three times, while the rest hung down below. A whip made of flames lay on the ground. The coiled fire was like a serpent of flame that would tighten and burn anything.
The moment he saw Oara, Enkrid perceived her shadow.
In that shadow, two horns protruded from Oara's head, and behind her back were wings that, when spread, would cover more than her entire body, now folded and attached.
The demon shed the skin of the soul it had collected and revealed its form. It deliberately showed Oara's appearance and waited.
A quick glance showed that the Balrog's shadow had now changed to look like Oara's.
So now was the shadow Oara, and were the Balrog and Oara mixed together? No. It was just a trick of the eye.
This was deliberate—a perverse taste.
"Pleased to meet you."
Enkrid also stood and greeted.
Oara's body gradually grew larger and turned pitch black, muscles swelled, and her build increased.
What had been visible in the shadow was now visible in reality.
Crack.
The wandering demon beast that had torn out two horns, the demon beast that slayed demons, stretched its neck as if refreshed and exhaled.
Whoosh— A short burst of flame shot up with its breath.
"It breathes fire too."
As Enkrid spoke after watching quietly, the master of the fragment looked down from above and spoke.
—You called so loudly, so I came.
Strictly speaking, it conveyed its meaning through will without using vocal cords. It was a communication method that didn't require language. Nothing to be surprised about. The Ferryman did the same thing.
"Well, you did come when I called."
Enkrid answered without hesitation.
Its entire body's skin was blackish, and instead of pupils in its eyes, there were flames burning red. The spinning tails of flame were its pupils.
—I am the master of the labyrinth, Bal-rog. Mortal, did you call me dreaming of immortality?
"No."
—I thought so.
Enkrid smiled. Because he'd now met a bastard who was so hard to meet.
The demon beast with the epithet god of War suddenly smiled too.
One human and one demon beast faced each other and smiled.
If an artist had been here, they wouldn't have been able to resist painting a picture of those two right now. It was such an impressive confrontation composition.
The Balrog's smile entered Enkrid's eyes. The corners of its mouth twisted upward, revealing white fangs between them.
Why are its teeth white?
While staring like that, the Balrog's mouth opened again.
—This will be fun.
Feeling the anticipation, pleasure, and delight contained in that line, Enkrid felt a strange sense of loss and spoke following his feelings.
"That's my line, you bastard."
The Balrog was a great demon beast, strong enough to be called the god of War. It had also shown the ability to scatter his companions all over this place.
While Enkrid didn't know everything that had happened or the current situation, he inwardly guessed.
It was the demon's power. Demons weren't simple beings. Their powers made them beings that couldn't be looked down upon.
The Balrog's power was the labyrinthization of the area where it resided.
Why show cheap talk to such an opponent?
There was no reason to speak of. To win, he'd do anything. Enkrid fought in his own way.
Demons had emotions too, so if he could shake it, he'd shake it, and it was an intentional attempt to diminish its dignity.
It was something an ordinary knight wouldn't dare try or even think of.
What was amusing was that the Balrog was also making a similar attempt to Enkrid.
—Of those who came here, everyone except you would be dead. Their bodies wouldn't all be normal either.
Enkrid answered without missing a beat.
"I tested things out on my way here, and this level won't kill anyone."
He'd come past three knights trapped in the labyrinth. They'd been good training partners.
—You think that's all?
Momentum accompanied the Balrog's tone. It was a threat that would shrink one's lungs and heart if one let down their guard even a little. This must be the origin of intimidation.
Moreover, the content of its words was clearly intended to shake his emotions.
The unknown was fear. An element that summoned dread. The Balrog tried to plant anxiety in Enkrid's heart.
And the madman who repeated today reversed it again.
"Ah."
He pretended to be surprised and showed an opening. The Balrog recognized it too.
What was hidden behind the epithet god of War?
It was an epithet earned not just from enjoying battle but from pouring everything it had into fighting.
—...This bastard.
The Balrog's mouth became cheap too. Its manner of speech resembled some mercenary from a tavern, unsuited to its prestige.
Even for the Balrog, it was a bit unexpected.
This human didn't cower under its momentum and kept saying what he wanted to say—even looking back through its long life, such beings were quite rare.
"Not falling for it."
Enkrid muttered as if to himself.
Enkrid-style orthodox swordsmanship 'Showing an Opening' failed.
The Balrog's communication stopped, and Enkrid naturally lifted his foot and moved. He shifted his center of gravity, stomping the ground. Still in the posture of leaping forward, he brought his sword down.
It was a strike derived from Oara's Continuing Sword. It was a technique worthy of giving as a first gift to the Balrog's face.
The Balrog blocked Enkrid's blade, which had advanced as if folding space, with its bare arm.
Clang!
A shockwave spread with them at the center. Whoooosh. The Balrog's flame whip blazed fiercely as if it had its own will.
—Say hello. This is Salamandra.
With its forearm raised above its forehead, the Balrog spoke. Its eyes and Enkrid's eyes met. One side blue, one side red.
Its flame eyeballs glowed fiercely. Simultaneously, the whip, no different from a serpent of fire, moved without warning.
The coiled flames tried to grip his ankle, and Enkrid naturally pulled his foot back while pulling hard on the sword he'd placed against the Balrog's forearm. Dawnforge responded to its master's call and heightened its cutting power.
It was an Imprinted Weapon with Will dwelling in it. Its instantaneous cutting power would be superior even to the fairy treasure Penna.
Scrrrape.
And yet that blade couldn't achieve what it desired.
On the still-smiling face of the Balrog's forearm, there wasn't even a scratch, let alone a wound.
'What kind of forearm is that?'
Meanwhile, the whip made of flames moved on its own as if it had will.
'Its arm muscles didn't even move.'
Not just its arm—there was no trace of movement in its entire body's muscles. Without momentum or warning, the whip began attacking on its own.
That flame whip made a tsss tsss sound as it crawled along the ground alone and raised its head.
Seeing that, it seemed fair to say a snake demon beast was moving separately.
—This one is Sur-t.
The Balrog then pulled out and introduced a sword blazing with flames in its right hand. Those flames burned in black, beyond the ordinary path. Even its size was three times larger than Ragna's Sunrise.
The Balrog's body was slightly bigger than Audin's, so it was a greatsword large and thick even for it to wield.
When it spread its two wings, it looked three or four times larger.
At the same time, the Balrog displayed a momentum that would crush and overwhelm all created beings. It was the embodiment of intimidation.
It felt as if his entire body was bound by chains heated in fire, and it seemed like a boulder bigger than a house was falling on his head.
I'll lose. I'm going to lose. I can't win. Surpassing such a being is impossible. It's not something permitted to humans. Would a giant work? Would being a dragon-man be different?
The moment such thoughts arose, the Will inside his body moved on its own and rejected them. It tore apart and discarded the intimidation the Balrog emitted. The chains were severed and the boulder crushing his inner image disappeared.
Enkrid overcame the intimidation the enemy emitted, but he knew a large gap had formed in the meantime. And the Balrog didn't continue its attack during that gap.
—Your adaptation is fast. Good.
Instead, it was satisfied.
'It had no intention to attack from the beginning.'
Was it testing him? Gauging his abilities? Showing leisure?
Whatever it was, it didn't matter. Enkrid didn't waver. No matter what the opponent did, he didn't forget what he had to do.
'Cut.'
He poured Will in with his heart. At this moment, he vaguely realized what trick Ragna had pulled.
'Will Transformation.'
Putting something else into the original nature that Will possessed. How? By putting in his will.
He'd watched Ragna do it and practiced countless times, split his time to ponder and agonize, and even the experience accumulated facing three knights on the way here.
Everything harmonized and appeared on his blade. The sky-blue of Dawnforge thinned and sharpened the edge.
Just as cutting power dwelled in a sword swung with the heart to cut, when he maximized that, it became a materialized blade of Will.
It felt both like an extension of what he'd learned before and like realizing something new.
Whatever the process was, what remained was the fact that a sky-blue blade was now layered on Enkrid's sword.
Thump.
Whether a sky-blue light appeared on Enkrid's sword or not, the Balrog jumped in place. The Balrog's body that had disappeared reappeared behind Enkrid.
Enkrid's blue eyes drew two lines. Those lines turned in a semicircle centered on his body.
Enkrid turned around and swung his sword. The blade that cut steel like tofu was blocked by the sword called Surt.
Thump.
The noise was minimal. Instead, the black flames just flared a bit larger.
Whooosh.
It was as if saying it could easily receive something like Dawnforge, as if this level was easy.
The Balrog's fist flew between the flames.
Enkrid tightened his knee and elbow to grab the creature's wrist and break it in the middle, but the Balrog's punch accelerated and changed speed.
Boom!
So he got hit properly.
Even though he'd used everything sequentially—the Sword of Chance, calculation, thought optimization, and the Wave-Blocking Sword—he was beaten.
Enkrid's body floated and flew, crashing into the cave wall.
The Balrog immediately spread the hand that had punched and grabbed the whip handle, then swung it toward the wall. The speed when the whip moved on its own was different.
The serpent's head swelled and turned into a large blunt weapon, striking the wall faster than sound.
Boom—! Crash!
Though it hit the wall with a whip, it exploded as if struck by a boulder. Between that, Enkrid could be seen rolling out.
Blood dripped continuously from his mouth as he rolled—his internal organs must have been damaged.
'It doesn't work.'
A sword that seemed like it would cut anything would also be blocked by a sword that formed the same shape. The Balrog did so. The wandering demon, the living legend—it could do that.
—Is that all?
The Balrog spoke. Its sword Surt also had a blade formed of flames like Enkrid's. That form appeared outwardly as a sword made of blazing flames.