Ch. 007: How Kahrdan Dies Slowly
>> Kahrdan
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
All the Bearers backed away.
The once serene battlefield shattered with the ceaseless collision of blade against bone.
Sparks of flame and streaks of lightning tore through the hollow grounds as blue and orange silhouettes clashed endlessly, ripping silence apart with every violent blow.
Kahrdan versus Asren.
The blue silhouette—Asren—willed Arcane to destroy, each fist coated in unstable lightning.
The orange silhouette—Kahrdan—deflected with the brilliance of the Hellfire Sword Cordex, his aura radiant like a fragment of fire itself.
Sure enough, the surroundings couldn't handle their power easily.
Shockwaves split the ground and rattled everything—pulping flesh and rupturing organs.
Asren's fault.
His Art of Destructive Jeontu was raw brutality given form—a killing style birthed from monsters themselves, featuring Needle Noktilum, a heightened state where a demon could react at or faster than light.
Hence, evade or tank with no defense and attack relentlessly with murderous intent—built to end ten lives for every blow.
Kahrdan gritted his teeth.
His body was shaken.
At the surrealism, he questioned his reality.
Screams and echoes flooded his ears—the Slave Stage (1st-Level) Bearers generating all of it.
Kahrdan wasn't doing enough.
It must've hit hard—the shockwaves, that is.
From their speed and strength.
They gouged bloody craters into the earth, making the older, weaker ones spit blood, the pressure shaking their bones.
Kahrdan could not see a way to manifest a win condition.
'I could no, should I use the forbidden technique?'
Kahrdan leaned back, allowing a kick to brush his cheek, then swung his sword in counter, cleanly slicing apart his limb.
"Sheeeh."
Asren regenerated instantly, he rushed in again with his never-fading grin.
Powerful hooks and jabs expertly targeted Kahrdan—his jaw, ribs, and stomach.
Kahrdan's eyes followed his movements in an attempt to understand his combat pattern before attack.
'First, how can I win?'
Each strike thrown at him got parried away in near-perfect rhythm.
However, it shortly became easier. Asren had slowed down to speak.
"Your fire burns strong, all right."
Asren flexed his hand, popping a dislocated bone back into place. Once more, he closed the distance, jumped over Kahrdan, and with his back against Kahrdan's continued dialogue
"Even after my flesh heals, I still feel it scorching me. Honestly... that excites me more. I'll eventually ravage your flesh alive if you don't. So why not—"
Kahrdan stabbed his sword into his behind as Asren hopped away.
His eyes slid toward the Bearers behind Kahrdan, whom Asren attempted to clutch. "—just surrender to me?"
Kahrdan kneaded his gut and swung his sword to regain distance control.
But the psychological damage was already done.
'Damn.'
They shrieked when his gaze touched them, like prey cornered by a beast.
Kahrdan noticed, repositioning himself to cover their line of sight with his body.
Asren upped the intensity with timed attacks desperately targeting his jaw.
He needed at most one hit.
But Kahrdan simply tilted away each time.
He too took on a specific approach for this fight.
He centered on maintaining distance with necessary sword pokes and closing in—within sword range but just outside fist reach.
'I'll have to do more if I want to hope.'
Kahrdan's eyes sharpened with resolve.
Everything was stable—for now—but who knew how long that might last?
"Unfortunately for you, I carry the will of the Reinhardts! Hence, I mustn't doubt, sacrifice others, nor yield to you!"
Kahrdan disregarded his household warnings.
FWOOOM!
And with a melodramatic stare, ultimately performed it.
The forbidden hellfire spell in hopes of further containing Asren's attacks.
Tsk.
The oxygen in the air burned up much faster.
His aura flared violently, channeling past his normal spell nodes to his core, going on the attack.
Kahrdan's figure faded and reappeared behind Asren.
'He's fast.'
Clash.
Kahrdan got him almost, Asren grabbed the sword bare at the last second.
Swill Swill.
In the same breath he palmed away all the successive strokes, his body regenerating as flames surged.
However, Asren's blocking felt a subtle toll, Kahrdan wasn't far off either—red-hot veins burst beneath his skin as strain cracked across his muscles.
Although every movement left afterimages as he surpassed even half the speed of sound, his body was also degrading.
//Blood Burntwood// vs //Needle Noktilum//
They accelerated.
Crash.
Clash. Clash.
More debris flew into the air.
Asren was losing.
After each Bearer's heartbeat, they seemed to appear away from each other and close again, and Asren was repeatedly pushed back.
A tinge of hope was held in their hearts.
And praise for the powerful spell, which dominated Asren.
Hellfire Sword's only forbidden technique was one that temporarily gave him strength of a level higher than whatever stage he was on but had a severe backlash.
Yes, very stupid to use now.
'Especially since, with the preexisting deficiency, invoking it now would drive my body to breakdown.'
'...I shouldn't have. Well, it's no matter after all. Even with my condition, I can fight with 70 percent of my original strength.'
Asren dodged with eyes filled with conviction.
Kahrdan really didn't use it without reason. It was the surest way to force Asren's rampage away from the others.
If destruction had to fall, he would bear it with his own body, not the Arcane Bearers' lives behind him.
He was a blooming hero, after all.
'Arcane Control.'
"Art II: Murim Scorching Sword Flow!"
Kahrdan's blade blurred, roaring blood-red. Towers of flame manifested like starving lions—afterimages lunging to devour prey from twelve sides.
Asren shifted away but didn't necessarily block.
His combat technique, as stated earlier, relied solely on raw offense, evasion, and the insane regeneration of his demon-wolf bloodline.
"First Assault: Bone Crushing Strikes!"
Hence, Asren didn't back down, taking a southpaw stance. His fists coiled with concentrated killing intent, glowing darker, heavier—forming the shape of a wolf's head.
Boom!
The battlefield gave way. Huge chunks of dust rose into the air.
Asren's fist met scorching steel. Kahrdan's sword met bone.
'Arrgh.'
And they felt it.
Everyone—Kahrdan, Asren, and especially the Slave Stage Bearers, almost forty meters away.
They were basically still normal humans, after all.
Thus, even from that distance, the pressure threatened to crush them.
Kahrdan wasn't so great either. One could only imagine his arms' state.
He made sure he didn't look in pain. Within seconds, his sword rose again as his white cloak flowed gently, though blood falling from his hands in rivulets said otherwise.
'Sigh.'
Clash. Clash. Clash.
Kahrdan focused his sight, praying for it to end.
Asren kept attacking. Still, he couldn't do anything—it was as if nothing was working against Kahrdan.
Ultimately, Kahrdan, even with superior distance control, parried, got close, and sliced diagonally toward his neck.
A large chunk of flame slashed.
"Art III: Ascetic Sword Blaze!"
He aimed for decapitation—the easiest way to win, considering Asren's healing factor.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the end. Instinctively, Asren crossed his arms to block before jumping backward—Kahrdan's blade seemed to get nothing.
However, like an after-effect, Kahrdan smiled.
And Asren's forearms were cut thanks to the skill's extended range, ripping flesh apart with the sizzle of burned meat.
But it didn't mean much.
Asren remained grinning.
His red hair fluttered in the storm of flame, revealing a horn that seemed to grow larger as he snapped his limb back into place, blood gushing.
Kahrdan's eyes caught it.
'Could it be Asren comes to terms with his regenerative ability by the horn?'
However, he didn't have time. Asren roared, lunging more aggressively.
"Yes... YES!"
"I almost died! "Wow, this is it, Kahrdan! You have to become a demon. PUSH ME FURTHER—MAKE ME ASCEND!"
A lot of murmurs rose from the Bearers—
"Is he a masochist?"
Kahrdan's expression said enough, dodging another barrage of kicks.
His mind was jumping through different topics.
But the brief distraction cost him.
Asren swept Kahrdan's legs.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
And pounded him relentlessly.
Of course Kahrdan, twisting his wrist while falling, managed to intercept them—
But Asren could draw closer. His eyes, similar to how Kahrdan's did, sharpened.
He shifted his fighting pattern. Not instinctively anymore—no, his eyes gleamed with cruel calculation, tracking Kahrdan's every move as he'd done to him.
Kahrdan felt a knuckle crash into his jaw with a sickening crunch.
Boom.
Kahrdan's expression became grimmer, his head feeling light.
Asren was getting deadlier.
'Such monstrous growth potential... no, no, no. I must not allow this wolf to continue. I must use everything to chop off his head right now.'
Kahrdan somersaulted back over 10 meters, adopting his airtight stance whilst upside down in the air, gathering all remaining aura for his final strike.
//Aura Sword Direction //
He aimed a thrust, and a blurry greatsword of flame, marked with the lion of Reinhardt's emblem, formed at his side as he landed. It was unstable.
He had mastered seven of the ten master sword arts of the Reinhardt line, but in his condition, the strongest he could begrudgingly muster was the Sixth Art.
Still—the Sixth Strike was meant to slay even Level 6 beasts. For a mere Level 4 demon like Asren, it should be more than enough.
Unfortunately, Asren wasn't naive.
The moment the death aura loomed over him, he bolted toward the Bearers.
The Bearers screamed as the demon wolf blurred among them.
"NO!"
Kahrdan dashed after him but couldn't catch him because of the 10-meter head start.
His face was a sharp contrast to the eternally grinning Asren—like a wolf amongst sheep.
"How cute."
Asren even mocked, weaving through the crowd who wore irritable expressions.
He hated their guts, but he didn't kill them. Kahrdan was clever enough to stop pursuing and kill him later. Instead, he darted between them, using their panic as cover.
Kahrdan slowed to a stop as he tried to sense Asren, but—from that chaos—Asren ultimately got around Kahrdan too.
—Second Assault: Unforgiving Shadow Fang
CRACK!
Attack without his knowledge.
"Why does the hero always have to die in Pantheon?"
Asren asked, his expression finally bored, as his lightning-laced fist pierced straight into Kahrdan's ribs from the blindside, tearing a gaping hole through him.
Shudder.
Asren twisted his arm inside the wound, shredding flesh. The wet squelch drowned Kahrdan's roar as his fire dimmed, blood spilling freely.
"The answer stems from their numerous liabilities."
"Heheh, and now I got yooouuuu." Asren whispered playfully, though his expression betrayed no interest.
He saw it as a despair-filled fight.
Kahrdan spat blood and slashed back, carving chunks of flesh from Asren's regenerating frame in retaliation before grimacing.
"Argh!"
The blood feast flowed in the air as such.
Why, why, why?
The Arcane Bearers asked themselves.
Kahrdan was stronger but was at a higher risk of death.
Stop it!, some even shouted.
Asren's fists repeatedly pummeled Kahrdan further into ruin—visibly, his ribs were even shattered.
Because each collision was akin to a small bike crash.
Yet Kahrdan held on. His will was so indomitable it became a bloody battle of attrition rather than despair.
He never gave up. Kahrdan even started to block some.
While Asren convulsed.
Kahrdan, in a speed faster than Asren could dodge, drove his sword through Asren's neck.
A lucky break, was it?
"Such will be."
Asren's grin returned as he tore it out instantly, forcing his regeneration to the limit.
His horn grew longer than 3 meters, and he dropped to his knees, panting.
"I knew it... you really are strong," he muttered, eyes fading as he suddenly seemed to fall unconscious—though he really didn't. His grin remained wide, and you needed muscles to grin.
"He won?"
Smoke and ash twisted unnaturally, forming shapes that weren't there before. The Bearers were confused with the result—they never saw Kahrdan blocking the strike. All they saw was the blood in Asren's throat.
But it wasn't over yet.
Kahrdan's eyes caught flickers at the edge of his vision—faces writhing in the blackened fog. The Arcane Bearers froze, and their almost-beginning cheers caught in their throats for a second before they calmed.
Something crawled along the scorched earth—black veins that slithered like living ink toward him, reaching for the wounds on his arms as if feeding on his pain.
For an instant, Kahrdan's perspective changed. Victory was a lie. Death—hunger—was already here, and it didn't need Asren.
Kahrdan, cold-faced, realized as well. Asren hadn't fainted—but maybe just didn't feel continuing was useful.
Honestly, it looked like victory.
And soon after, as if forgetting the fog, a loud shout came from one of the Bearers—cheers erupted as they rushed to thank their savior.
They were stupid. It almost cost them their lives.
"Stand back!"
However maddening it appeared, it was true. There was still danger.
Thankfully, different this time, Asren stayed still, not attempting anything.
But Kahrdan still barked, "Run."
In a split second, his aura caught the movement of projectiles in the wind.
And spontaneously, he sliced through the dozens of black mana blades that appeared suddenly from the dark sky.
What the hell? Is it like the black veins?
Kahrdan thought. It wasn't Asren, naturally.
This came as if signaled from Asren's fall or, rather, only because Asren fell.
'Please, could this be an aftershow before claiming treasure for my efforts?'
Perhaps it would've been, since it was a dungeon...
Well, if it wasn't Pantheon, that is.
Unfortunately, instead of treasure—
A howl split the sky, shaking every Bearer's soul.
From the far side of the battlefield, an even stronger presence emerged.
Yes, this was a treacherous world. You guessed it.
The Dire Wolf King, Volus, had arrived, eating a human's head.
"Hehehe."
Kahrdan's vision blurred as he dryly chuckled.
Molasses and brain matter spilled on the floor where Volus stood.
DEATH. DEATH. DEATH.
It would soon be him.
Looking at the skull getting chewed on, Kahrdan just knew he was going to be tag-teamed next.
WORSE. Something blue flickered.
[SYSTEM ALERT]
The Great Tutorial Trial: Endure Volus the Dire Wolf King's Tide for 2 Extra Minutes.
Reward: ???
Kahrdan coughed, forcing himself to stand, sword trembling.
The Bearers who tried to hug him backed away again. They didn't want to make the same mistake of staying too close.
"Sigh..." he rasped, exhausted, flames flickering. "Damned beast, come out. Although cumbersome... I'll still hold the line."
Kahrdan had resolved to die.
---
HOW TO USE A WORLD'S APOCALYPSE
(END OF CHAPTER SEVEN)