Chapter 246 – King of the Underworld (3)
Kwa-gwa-gwa-gwa-gwang!
The successive elemental bombardments struck Grond.
He unleashed multiple sword auras, unfurled Floated's protection shield, and endured with the Full Armor of Insert, but it was all just barely holding on.
From the moment Verden revealed his Mado, Grond had not taken a single step forward, only pushed back continuously.
His weight shifted forward in that instant.
"What…?!"
A massive boulder flying from behind threw his balance off.
The Mystic Eye of Defying the Heavens was not bound by space. Grond, who had failed to grasp that fact, stumbled in shock.
Molten lances surged from the front, while blades of gravity formed at his flank to block his retreat.
The magic poured down from all directions without even the slightest delay, exceeding Grond's ability to respond.
Puuuhhhng!
Physical force ravaged his entire body.
The gray carpet was shredded to tatters, and the throne collapsed under the impact of Grond being flung backward. He knelt on one knee, bracing himself against the debris.
'Impossible.'
That he, ruler of Roafra, was being driven back.
And helplessly so, without even a chance to counter. Even after enduring such a deluge of magic, his opponent still radiated vast magic power.
Nothing about it made sense.
If this magical bombardment continued, what then? Even if his artifacts held, the shock would inevitably accumulate.
And on top of that, running three artifacts at once drained his stamina in real time.
Crack. He clenched his molars hard.
The course of the battle was turning strange. If it were only a matter of artifacts, killing a mage should have been simple.
Verden looked down upon Grond.
There was a cold sneer in that gaze.
"Is this all you have?"
"Shut your mouth before I tear it open!"
"It seems you still haven't realized."
What lends strength to skill, is the meaning held by equipment.
To master the power of arms is the most basic of basics for the wielder.
But Grond was being swayed by his artifacts.
Of course, wielding three artifacts at once would be effective against most opponents, but against a powerhouse immune to artifacts, it only led to regression.
No matter how strong Verden was, clinging to artifacts as a breakthrough was utterly pathetic.
The Demon King's laboratory.
When Verden, through Defying the Heavens, briefly reached the realm of transcendence, even the Administrator had been forced back by his Mado and Mystic Eye, but immediately found a countermeasure.
He allowed magic, and shifted the battlefield into close combat that favored him. This was not simply a matter of strength and weakness.
'In other words, a difference of experience.'
Grond had never fought with his life on the line against an opponent of higher rank.
At most, he fought those equal or below. Hiding in the cave of Roafra, pretending to be a ruler, was proof enough.
"Am I wrong?"
"..."
At Verden's pointed words, Grond's breathing grew rough.
Rage surged, ready to explode, while unspeakable humiliation filled his chest.
'How dare, how dare, how dare…!'
Crackkk.
Grond's fingers dug into the rubble.
He could not tolerate it.
For decades he had ruled Roafra. How had he climbed all the way here, only to be toppled by some mage who should have been prey? To be mocked like this?
He could not accept it. He must not accept it.
Never would he acknowledge his opponent as a superior being.
He would kill him without fail.
He would tear this brat before his eyes to pieces right here.
Thus he would once more prove it.
That Grond Veil di Validus, ruler of Vintert and the underworld Roafra, was a true sovereign. Until then, he would not think of anything else.
Gyeokche – Strike Body.
Grond forcibly flooded his heart with aura.
His heartbeat pounded ever harder, and power surged as the aura coursed through his veins. Muscles bulged, and Grond's body leaned forward.
Through the slit of his helmet, his eyes blazed with wrath.
The ground shattered under the extreme force channeled into his legs. At the cost of straining his heart, the physical power he gained was unlike before.
And that was not all Grond had.
"Eyes of Illusion, here and now, I offer my life!"
The activation chant of an artifact.
A gap opened at the chest of the Full Armor of Insert. Green light flooded the audience hall.
The Eye of Insert.
A hidden function that created countless clones with the same power as the original. The price was shortened lifespan, but that was a problem for later.
Dozens of Gronds charged at Verden from all sides.
There was no way to avoid them.
The swords of those clones were very much real. Soon, navy sword aura erupted from the demonic blade like a raging volcano.
'I've won.'
Grond was convinced.
It was impossible for anyone to withstand his full power.
At that moment.
Golden light flared from Verden.
The second ability of Ainber, Revelation.
To its bearer, no illusion could prevail.
Fwaaahhh!
All the clones exposed to the light disintegrated at once.
The Full Armor of Insert confronted Ainber. Crackkk. The Eye of Insert shattered like crushed glass, its function destroyed.
It was Ainber's retribution.
Grond's eyes widened.
'He dispelled my illusions? How?!'
He didn't understand, but he didn't stop.
Even so, his enemy was already within striking distance.
Grond gripped the demonic sword with both hands and pulled his waist back.
An ultimate technique, the kind only a select few warriors could manifest. None who had ever seen this technique survived.
But Grond was mistaken.
Until now, Verden had only humored Grond's battle. He had never fought with the same power he used against the Administrator.
But there was no longer any need to experience more, nor to see more.
Verden shifted his thoughts.
Not to draw out his foe's power, but to annihilate his opponent.
'To change the battlefield to one's advantage, is the mage's basic.'
Around Orient, a gravitational field was formed.
Kuuuuuung!
Without hesitation, he drove it into the heart of the audience chamber. From beneath, a dark-violet light erupted, spreading tremendous force.
When Verden had received
The herald of catastrophe.
In an instant, the entire space trembled.
Then a dark light burst forth, and the entire upper portion of the castle, including the audience hall, exploded in its entirety.
***
The outskirts of the ashen castle.
Here too, a battlefield had unfolded.
Whoooong!
The blade of Hwihwol tore through the air.
Stepping forward, Galliark, using its weight, struck again, both dazzling and reckless.
Draken twisted his legs to evade, widening the distance. In that moment, his counter-swing sliced Galliark's forearm thinly.
"Damn it, cut again."
Galliark complained.
The butcher, his armor ruined and his own blood dyeing him crimson. One more wound hardly showed.
Across from him stood the fallen adventurer, Draken, unscathed.
With his nimble movements, Galliark's comparatively heavy strikes hadn't touched him once. Though his breathing grew ragged, he was in far better condition than Galliark.
Draken lightly flicked his sword.
Blood scattered in the air.
"As you can see with your own eyes, the result is obvious. Yet you still insist on fighting? If you run, I will not pursue."
"You brat, spouting crap. Why would I run, when this is worth fighting?"
"What exactly is worth fighting here?"
"Because now I'm sure."
Crack.
Galliark rolled his neck.
"Sure, your rat-like movements are tricky. But they're neither sharp nor deadly. That Bloodstained Sword, she aimed for my throat in a single stroke. In other words, what does that mean?"
The butcher's eyes gleamed with bloodlust.
"It means she was exceptional, and you are the standard of a normal mithril-rank adventurer. That's my conclusion. Which means if I beat you, I prove my skill has reached mithril rank. Isn't that right?"
Not worth a reply.
Narrowing his eyes, Draken charged.
Kaaaang! Kang! Chwaaaak!
Sparks flew between blades.
Hot blood sprayed, wetting their skin. Without retreat, trading blow for blow, Galliark's eyes flashed.
Pashwae – Shatter.
Hwihwol swept down like a guillotine.
Draken read its path and let the technique flow past.
Immediately he extended his arm, aiming for Galliark's head. His cheek split from a grazing strike, blood running down.
Then Galliark twisted his waist.
The axe swept forward, surging. A counterattack. Draken twisted his sword to block, but was thrown back.
For the first time, Galliark felt the heavy satisfaction of a solid hit.
He wiped his face, smearing away blood.
"As expected. Now you can't even dodge properly. Running out of stamina, aren't you?"
"..."
Draken regulated his breath.
It was true.
Thanks to drugs, his body had grown stronger than in his adventurer days, but he hadn't fought a real battle in so long that his stamina had declined instead.
His cardio endurance was lacking. The price of wallowing in the underworld.
'His realm is clearly beneath mine.'
But in terms of stamina, the butcher had the advantage.
Even bearing such wounds, he rampaged like a bull, still burning with fighting spirit. His persistence far exceeded Draken's expectations.
'If I drag this out any longer, it's dangerous.'
Draken's gaze sank.
Sseuhhhhp, air rasped as it forced its way deep into his lungs. In that instant, vigor flooded his whole body.
Draken slid forward like a blur.
Fwaaaah!
Baring his fangs, Galliark hurled Hwihwol and a hand axe. Weapons wrapped in crimson aura, savagely slicing through the air.
The timing was cunning, offset just enough to make dodging awkward.
Draken unfolded a technique.
Yusok – Flowing Speed.
His winding blade drew afterimages.
The trajectory of Galliark's hurled weapons twisted ever so slightly, veering off course. In the blink of an eye, Draken reached him and swung.
At that moment.
A red light shimmered around the butcher's massive frame.
Yosae – Fortress.
A new technique that reinforced bodily durability, one he had mastered after subjugating the Wailing Knight with Verden.
He raised his right shoulder, thrusting his left hand to the side.
Draken's strike pierced both shoulder and palm at once. The blow that had aimed for his throat was nullified.
Seeing Draken's startled expression, Galliark laughed.
"Now you're dead."
"…!"
Draken tried to wrench his sword free.
But he could not. Swollen muscles clamped down, holding the blade tight.
'What, such brute force—'
Galliark moved his arm.
Seizing Draken by the collar, he bellowed as he charged forward.
"Yaaaaaahhhhhh!"
In strength, Galliark was superior. There was no way to break free.
—Kwaaaang!
The two of them slammed into the inner gates of the castle.
"Ghhhk!"
The impact felt like his skull would shatter.
As if it were only the beginning, Galliark's fist pounded down. The sounds of muscle tearing, bone twisting, rang out.
In the midst of it, Draken tore his sword free.
He swung desperately, but Galliark caught the strike in his teeth. The edge split the corner of his lips.
That face, was pure madman.
"Y…you…lunatic…!"
Only now did he realize?
Galliark wrenched the sword away, seized his opponent's head, and twisted his entire body to hurl him sideways with brute strength.
Part of the fortress wall collapsed under the tremendous might.
Draken's body sprawled on the ground. He was alive, but unable to move even a finger. Above, the ceiling of Roafra filled his dazed eyes.
"Damn, that was tough."
Galliark slumped down as well.
Blood loss made his body sluggish, but his mood was elated. He had defeated a former mithril adventurer. That fact alone mattered.
Draken gasped.
"You won… but the result is the same. You don't know the monster… That mage cannot defeat the King of the Underworld."
"Even after the beating you took, you say that? Didn't you just claim you'd beat me?"
"That was only because you're a mere mortal…"
"Mortal, mortal, since earlier. Damn it, should've smashed your mouth first."
Galliark spat bloody saliva, then poured a hidden potion over himself. Fierce pain flared from his wounds.
It wouldn't heal him completely, but at least it would serve as a crude hemostatic.
"Draken?"
A voice called, and he lifted his head.
Robert and Gail.
The ones overseeing all of Vintert's guards, seemed shocked at Draken's state. Their gaze soon turned to Galliark.
"Galliark? Why are you here?"
"Don't know, ask that bastard."
Galliark sighed, moving his hand.
He gripped a heavy stone tight. He was unbearably exhausted, but he wasn't about to just collapse and get captured.
"..."
Robert observed the situation.
He had not yet grasped what was truly happening in Roafra. Everyone was out of their minds.
'Draken's in shambles too.'
To learn the truth, they had to seize the intruder, Galliark.
Surely he alone hadn't turned all of Roafra upside down.
Robert jerked his chin.
"Gail, capture that man—"
Then, an unprecedented force was felt.
All eyes turned skyward. With a colossal roar, the upper floors of the ashen castle were collapsing.
Through the shattered debris, a figure appeared.
A silhouette all too familiar.
All three, except Galliark, fell into shock.
"…Your Majesty?"
The King of the Underworld was plummeting.
***
Kwaaaaaang!
Crashing into the ground, Grond spat breath.
The impact from falling off the castle peak was nothing, but the magic that destroyed the castle was of tremendous might. Even the Full Armor of Insert was damaged.
Even so, that spared him from mortal wounds.
Grond used the demonic sword as a staff, staggering to his feet. Raising his head, he locked eyes with Verden, floating above.
Verden examined Grond's armor.
'Indeed, ordinary magic won't pierce it.'
Even after being swept by
Continued magical bombardments could eventually break it, but the waste of time and mana would be severe.
'I do have the new Saintly Magic…'
Verden shook his head inwardly.
He had no intention of unveiling his trump card, meant for Transcendents, here. Not only would it affect all of Roafra, but Grond was not such a powerful foe.
He already had a plan.
That was why he destroyed the castle in the first place, to change the stage.
Verden's Mystic Eye focused on the lake.
Shwaaaaaa!
Massive water pillars rose and merged into one. With Grond's domain gone, magic flowed even more freely.
Above, a colossal lance of water formed.
From the exposed lakebed, countless bones stirred.
He chose the ice attribute.
Dragging Orient slowly, the water began to freeze. He even forcefully used the counterfeit Ring of Permafrost to amplify its might.
'The Demonic Sword Cadence severs the arrangement of magic power.'
But it could not shatter, in one stroke, magic that had tangible form, like ice. That was the sword's weakness.
The shadow of a colossal iceberg loomed.
Everyone in Roafra lifted their eyes. The hovering lake turning into a frozen lance was an unreal sight.
At last, the magic was complete.
A spell to kill a single man, descended.
The crushing pressure drew nearer, and Grond did not even think to evade. Its overwhelming size crushed such thoughts.
Clenching his fist, he shouted with all his might.
"Don't mock me!"
Grond refused to surrender.
That massive ice was still just magic.
Strike Body still endured.
Channeling strength into his legs, Grond soared upward, unleashing his unfinished technique.
Ultimate Art, Sogyeok – Annihilating Strike.
Kwaaaaaaang!
Sword aura, stretching dozens of meters, collided with the iceberg.
Grond's ultimate art didn't merely disrupt force, it dispersed it entirely. And he wielded the Demonic Sword Cadence besides.
"Floated!"
Floated rushed to support his back, lending power so he would not be pushed down.
Crrrackkk.
As the clash continued, the tip of
Hope lit Grond's face.
Verden felt pure admiration.
'Truly, an impressive technique.'
To endure such mass, to contend against magic itself.
So this was the ultimate art of those awakened to aura? At this rate, the iceberg might even be split in two.
But a taut rope snaps at the slightest crack.
Verden tugged Orient.
Though most of his focus was sustaining
Maintaining
Fwaaaah!
Verden thrust Orient forward. Even a trickle of mana empowered the iceberg. That alone was enough.
Balance shattered in an instant.
"…?!"
Crackk.
Grond's fingers, clinging to the sword, snapped.
His body could not bear the weight. At the same time, the sword aura dispersed, and the Demonic Sword Cadence was flung far below.
A chilling cold bore down right before him.
Grond's murky golden eyes widened to tearing point. The word 'defeat' surfaced unbidden in his mind.
"Impossible—"
Kuuung.
The iceberg crashed down, crushing Grond as it fell.
The magic, landing in the inner wards of the ashen castle,shook the whole of Roafra violently.
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