(Arin's POV)
The forest smelled rotten. This was not the fishy stench of monster blood or the musty odor of Goblin caves usually encountered, but an unnaturally sharp, metallic aroma of iron.
The smell of human death.
My steps slowed. I retraced the winding path toward the Academy's back gate slowly. This was the rat path often used to avoid Gareth and his lackeys in the past. Truly ironic; this path used to be for escaping bullying, now it had become an escape route from war.
However, it seemed fate enjoyed playing games tonight.
Snap.
The sound of a breaking twig up ahead stopped my steps.
In the middle of the narrow path, illuminated by beams of moonlight penetrating the canopy gaps, a human figure stood blocking the way.
His appearance was clearly not that of a student. A jet-black robe wrapped his body, adorned with silver embroidery in the shape of a chained blood drop. Judging by his appearance, he resembled a member of the Iron Blood Sect.
"Move," I growled. Hot steam billowed from my mouth, the lingering overclocking effects of the Golem Core drug. "I have no business with you."
The person did not answer. He merely stood swaying unsteadily. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, his horrific condition became clear. His chest armor was shattered, revealing a gaping hole in his left chest, exactly where the heart should be. Black blood gushed profusely, yet strangely, he still stood tall.
The Bastard Sword in his hand was still infused with a dim, dark red glow.
That was Aura.
My eyes narrowed warily. The density of the light was stable and wrapped the sword blade perfectly without the slightest leak.
Professional Tier Aura.
In the continent's power hierarchy, he was equal to a Royal Official Knight. In monster classification, he was a Tier 3 Monster threat. Equivalent to a Grizzly Bear or a Silver Golem. The difference was, he had a human brain and combat techniques.
"Blood..." mumbled the person. His voice sounded like sandpaper grinding, wet and raspy. "Pure blood... for the Goddess..."
"You have lost a lot of blood, Sir. You had better sit down and die quietly," I replied coldly.
He lifted his head. His eyes had no pupils, only completely white sclera surrounded by burst red veins. A crazy smile was carved on that deathly pale face.
"Vessel..." He pointed at Erika on my back with the trembling tip of his sword. "That girl... a sweet vessel... her energy... pure..."
"Keep dreaming, Perverted Heretic," I cut in quickly.
I lowered Erika's body slowly, placing her behind a large tree root safe from slashing range.
"Wait here a moment, Erika," I whispered softly. "There is some trash that needs to be cleaned up first."
I assumed an upright position. The Mithril Longsword was drawn. My newly repositioned right shoulder throbbed with pain, but the Life Magic Stone drug immediately flooded the nerves with forced anesthesia.
I regulated my breathing again, activating Maximum Junior Aura. A mana glimmer flowed through the weapon, though not as dense as that of the madman.
Situation analysis ran fast in my head. The enemy was a Professional Aura user. One of the signature abilities of this tier was Magic Redaction. Every slash of his aura could cut mana structures, rendering magic useless. To a mage, he was a nightmare.
But to a physical fighter?
"What a pity," I cracked my neck. "I do not use magic."
"OFFERING!"
The sect member charged. His speed was unreasonable for a person whose heart was likely destroyed. What drug were they using? Was it similar to the poison I drank?
One second he stood still like a statue, the next second he was right in front of my face. No wind-up and no muscle telegraph.
It was Shukuchi. High-level footwork movement that compressed distance.
WOOSH!
The Bastard Sword in his hand slashed horizontally, targeting my neck. His sword blade was enveloped in a dark red aura vibrating at high frequency.
I dropped my body backward with a Matrix lean technique, letting the sword blade sweep the air an inch above my nose. Just the wind of the slash felt hot, burning my skin.
The large tree behind me, with a diameter the size of two adults' embrace, was silently slashed. A second later, the tree shifted and fell with a rumbling sound.
Magic Redaction. That aura did not cut the tree physically; it severed its molecular bonds. If that hit my neck, my head would roll before I realized I was dead.
"Good rat reflexes," he mumbled.
He rotated his wrist. The missed sword suddenly changed direction vertically, smashing downward.
I rolled my body to the side. The ground where I lay exploded into a knee-deep crater.
Without pause, I rose and attacked immediately. "My turn!"
Feather-Touch: 50% Weight activated. The Mithril sword became light in my hand. Rapid Thrusts were launched, three quick stabs toward the eyes, throat, and solar plexus.
TING! TING! TANG!
He deflected all three attacks with minimal sword movement. He did not parry with strength, but redirected the attacks. Every time the swords touched, his red aura felt like it was trying to "eat" the vibration of my sword, numbing my hand.
"Rough technique," he commented flatly. "Like a child swinging a stick."
He stepped forward, entering Guard range. His left shoulder slammed into my chest with a Shoulder Check technique.
THUD!
It felt like being hit by a horse carriage. My already cracked ribs screamed in protest. I was thrown backward, my boots dragging on the ground leaving a small trench two meters long.
"Cough!" Fresh blood spurted from my mouth.
Unfortunately, he gave no pause. His sword was raised high. The red aura around him condensed, forming a shadow of a giant sword in the air.
Aura Technique: Iron Blood Guillotine.
"Die!"
The sword descended, carrying the aura of the angel of death.
Impossible to dodge sideways; the aura locked the surrounding air movement. What if I parried? My bones would be crushed to pieces.
If so, the laws of physics must be violated.
The button on the glove was pressed, Feather-Touch: 0% Weight. My sword lost its mass completely. The weapon was raised, not to block, but to strike the side of his sword.
Technique: Vector Deflection.
Just before his giant sword struck my head, the "ghost" sword was slashed against the side of his blade. Because it was massless, the swing could be executed at the speed of sound.
At the second of impact, Feather-Touch was turned off. Mass Return: 100%.
CLANGGG!
Sudden momentum struck the side of his sword, deflecting the deadly slash ten centimeters to the left. His sword struck the ground beside my foot, creating a shockwave that blew away dry leaves.
The eyes behind the cracked mask widened. "What...?"
He was confused. The physics I just practiced made no sense to him. How could a slow sword suddenly possess such massive torque?
"Do not blink, Bastard!"
I took advantage of his confusion. A step forward was taken, then the sword grip changed. My left hand gripped the sword blade with a Half-Swording technique, turning the Longsword into a short spear.
Technique: Blade Grasping - Close Quarter Stab.
The stab was aimed at the gap in his armpit, but he was a Professional. The sword hilt was released with one hand, my sword blade caught by a bare hand coated in thick aura.
SCREECH.
His iron gauntlet shrieked while holding the Mithril sword. The stab was held just a few centimeters from his skin.
"You think..." his breath was heavy, blood dripping from behind the mask. "Cheap tricks... can kill me?"
He kicked my knee.
CRACK.
My right knee wobbled, then I fell to my knees.
The Heretic's sword was pulled from the ground, ready to decapitate my head which was now level with his waist.
"Offering... accepted."
Time in my perception slowed. His sword blade was seen moving toward my neck. Yet from the lower angle, I saw the gaping wound in his chest. That was the source of weakness he protected desperately.
If I could not parry and could not run. Then, give him what he wanted: Flesh.
My head was pulled away. Instead, I sacrificed my left shoulder, thrusting it toward the Heretic Sword's slash.
CRASH!
The Bastard Sword slashed deep into my left shoulder, tearing the deltoid muscle until it touched the collarbone. The pain was blinding, but his sword got stuck in the bone.
"Got you," I whispered, blood flowing from the corner of my lips forming a crazy smile.
The heretic knight jerked. He tried to pull his sword, but my convulsing muscles held it tight.
Our distance was now zero. I released my sword grip. My free right hand clenched into a fist. A fist coated with Feather-Touch (Mass Manipulation) was used.
The punch was aimed at the gaping wound in his chest. Initially light with high speed, then heavy with full mass upon contact.
THUD... BLAM!
The fist sank into his open chest cavity. The texture of slippery and warm internal organs was felt. Fingers gripped something pulsing weakly; it was the remains of his heart.
"Die!" I hissed right in his face.
I squeezed the dying heart with all my might.
"AGHHHHHHH!!!"
The Knight's scream was not a human scream. It was the sound of a demon being forcibly dragged back to hell. His red aura exploded wildly, burning the skin of my hand, but I did not release my grip.
As a final step, I channeled remaining mana to my neck muscles. Then slammed my head hard, crashing my iron Helm against the Heretic's forehead.
Thud!
The Knight's body jerked; he lost consciousness for a moment. His red aura extinguished like a candle blown out by a storm. His sword released from my shoulder with a wet SQUELCH sound.
In those golden seconds, I tightened my fingers on his heart.
Squish!
The heart exploded, crushed to pieces within my grip. Blood spurted everywhere as my hand was pulled back along with the remnants of the heart carried in my grasp.
The Heretic fell to his knees. His hood came off, revealing the face of a middle-aged man with eyes now empty, staring at the night sky seeing nothing.
He collapsed, then died.
I pushed his corpse aside. His body fell supine on the ground muddy with both our blood.
My breath roared like a broken whistle. Now my left shoulder was destroyed, ribs broken, and knee likely cracked. Yet I could still see the moon in the sky, a sign that I had managed to survive.
The Heretic was dead. No more fighting, only silence and the sound of my ragged breathing in that dark forest.
I stood frozen, hand still gripping the remains of the heretic man's heart. His blood was warm on my hand, carrying a fishy and sickening smell.
This... was the first time.
I had killed hundreds of monsters. Goblins, Orcs, Lizardmen, even bears. But this... this was human. His anatomy was the same as mine. His bones, his organs, his blood... the same.
Great nausea crept in my stomach. Not because of the drug, but the reality that a fellow human life had just been taken.
"Arin..."
A weak moan from behind the tree root snapped me out of my daydream.
I turned. Erika moved restlessly in her sleep, her face contorted in pain.
Seeing her, the nausea slowly receded. I stared at the corpse in front with a new cold gaze.
"You tried to touch her," I whispered to the corpse. "That was your mistake!"
I cleaned my sword on the sect member's robe, then sheathed it again. There was no more time to lament fate. No time to be melodramatic about the morality of killing. In this world, kill or be killed was the law of nature.
And the choice fell to the survivor.
I carried Erika again.
"Let's keep moving, Erika. Hang in there a little longer."
Every step was taken slowly. Although my brain ignored the pain due to the illicit drug effect, I could not be reckless with the wounds suffered. If I unknowingly moved the injured body parts too much, I could die from losing too much blood.
My body was forced to stand on legs trembling like jelly. Every step was a struggle against gravity.
One hour later, the sun began to rise on the eastern horizon, illuminating the forest with orange light. Birds began to chirp, indifferent to the two humans dying beneath them.
The journey that should have taken only two hours became an endless journey. Walking like a zombie, dragging feet, with consciousness drifting in and out.
The sun was already high. Maybe around nine in the morning.
In the distance, faint cheering sounds could be heard. That must be the sound of spectators and magic explosions. Was the exam still held even though there was a war in the Academy forest last night?
The Team Duel Exam had begun. The final stage exam was taking place in the main arena. While people cheered celebrating the competition, lives were being dragged fighting on the outskirts.
Up ahead, the Academy's back gate was visible. A rusty iron gate usually guarded by lazy guards easily bribed.
"Arrived..." whispered these cracked and dry lips.
Footsteps left the tree line, entering the path toward the guard post.
"Help..." a hoarse voice barely audible.
Two guards at the post turned.
However, there was no sympathy in their gaze. Seeing my condition covered in black and red blood, armor destroyed, dragging an unconscious girl, and carrying a thick murderous aura remaining from last night's fight brought a suspicious air.
"HALT!"
Spears were pointed at me.
"Do not move! Drop your weapon!" shouted one guard with a face pale from fear. He blew a warning whistle in panic.
Tweet!
"Wait... I am a student... this is Erika..."
"Silence! You look like one of those crazy sect members!" snapped the other guard, his hand trembling holding the sword hilt. "We have orders to detain anyone suspicious! Do not come closer or we stab!"
Spear tips pointed at my face.
After fighting various monsters, fighting golems, fighting heretics, and walking through hell to return "home"... was this the welcome?
"Damn bastards..."