Chapter 186 : Northward...! (3)
“Damn it,” I swore, my eyes fixed on the wall of snow and rock thundering toward my companions.
As if the Demonkin nipping at our heels weren’t enough. Now this. It felt as if the world itself were trying to crush us.
“Lancelot, take Mihaila!”
“What? Me?”
“Yes, now!” I roared, the command ripping from my lungs.
Mihaila was our weakest link. I had Hans on my back, but Mihaila was on her own two feet. A Saint-class cleric wouldn’t be killed by the impact, but the Demonkin horde would snatch her up the second she was buried.
We had four days. Four days to reach the North. We couldn’t afford to be pinned down.
Lancelot didn’t hesitate, surging forward to haul Mihaila onto his shoulders.
I shifted Hans’s weight on my own back, settling him securely, then bellowed to my master and the Grand Duke.
“I’m punching a hole through it! Follow me!”
The world was a deafening RUMBLE.
A wave of churning earth surged toward me. I manifested arrows of pure Aura in the air and unleashed them into the deluge.
BOOM! BOOM!
The volley slammed into the avalanche, momentarily holding it at bay like a physical shield.
Behind me, my master and Roxen met the Demonkin charge, their own auras flaring. The Grand Duke flanked us, his sword a blur as he batted away stray boulders.
“Gaaahk!”
Demonkin shrieked, swallowed by the slide. But moments later, others clawed their way through the churning debris, their eyes glowing with malevolent light as they renewed their pursuit.
“You damn humans…! I’ll kill you all!”
Sacrificial magic, I thought, my stomach tightening. I watched them close the distance, their bodies unnaturally swift. They were fueling their power by consuming their own.
Flesh Offering: Corporeal Fortification.
It was a vile art that strengthened the user’s body by offering an ally as tribute.
Most Demonkin were incapable of such magic, but their commander apparently could. It was likely a trait unique to his species—or a gift from one of the Twelve Nobles.
I ground my teeth and stared into the storm. The landslide showed no sign of stopping, as if the very mountain god had turned against us.
If this keeps up, we’ll all be annihilated.
My mind raced, searching for a way to break the stalemate.
The biting wind and knee-deep snow were siphoning our stamina. We’d entered the mountains in a hurry, without proper rations, and the pursuing Demonkin had denied us a single moment of rest.
This avalanche was a death sentence. The only way out was to keep running until we collapsed, or—
“…kill them.”
My own Aura flared to life, a stark contrast to the swirling snow. I spun to face the others.
“New plan!” I roared over the din. “We’re wiping them out! Right here, right now!”
“A slight deviation from our original strategy, wouldn’t you say?” Roxen called out, grim irony in his voice.
“We use the landslide against them!” I yelled back. “It’s this or a slow death on the road ahead!”
My master let out a heavy sigh, then gave a sharp nod. “To use one evil to strike another. I understand.”
He took a deep breath, and his Aura surged, vast and ancient.
<Divine Beast Invocation>
The air shimmered, and from it coalesced dozens of divine beasts, ethereal forms of fang and claw that snarled at the approaching Demonkin.
The Grand Duke skidded to a stop beside me, his boots carving trenches in the snow. He drew his sword.
<Sword of Glaciers>
CR-ACK!
A wave of profound cold radiated from the blade. The air itself seemed to freeze, and with a sound like a glacier calving, the landslide began to part around us.
“This won’t last long!” the Grand Duke shouted. “Target count?”
“One division, maybe two!”
“Excellent,” he declared, his voice ringing with authority. “Let us begin!”
He anchored himself, his Aura pouring into his blade. He wasn’t stopping the avalanche—he was redirecting it, funneling its raw power directly onto the Demonkin forces.
“Wh-what is this!” one of them bellowed in panic.
They hastily performed their sacrificial rites again.
The Demonkin who had used the flesh offering stood unharmed, their fortified bodies resisting the initial impact. But their faces twisted in fury as they realized their comrades had died for nothing.
They were the ones who made the sacrifice.
I let out a dry, humorless laugh and nodded to Roxen and Lancelot.
“We’re going in.”
The words had barely left my mouth before they raised their weapons and charged.
Without bothering to activate my Stigmata, I drew my bowstring with pure Aura.
<Full Bloom>
WHOOSH!
The Aura-wrought arrow shot forward, not as a single projectile, but as a seed of destruction.
It sprouted in midair, branching into a lattice of light. Along these branches, ethereal camellia blossoms bloomed, releasing a scent that was beautiful and deadly.
“Guaaaaaaaah!”
The Demonkin screamed, staring in horror at their own bodies. Their skin blistered and turned a furious red where the light touched them.
The blossoms that struck them dissolved their flesh like acid, sending up plumes of acrid smoke. It was the searing touch of a demon-quelling Aura—an energy anathema to their very existence.
“You damn human! What are you, some kind of saint?!” one shrieked.
I didn’t bother to answer. Lancelot and Roxen answered for me.
<Lindal’s First Form: Wrath>
<Tempest Road>
Lancelot’s sword carved arcs of fury while Roxen’s spear punched through armor and flesh like a thunderbolt. They were a whirlwind of steel in the heart of the enemy.
“Guaaaaaaaah!”
The Demonkin broke, screaming as they tried to retreat.
And in that instant, the Grand Duke’s control finally gave way.
The landslide reclaimed its path, burying them under tons of rock and snow.
* * *
Kal, commander of the pursuit force, chewed his lip raw as he watched the massacre.
Damn it all, how did it come to this!
His force, though hastily assembled, comprised three full divisions. They were not some disorganized mob; some of his soldiers were on the cusp of reaching the same high-tier status he held. He’d been confident, even against Grand Masters.
But reality had shattered his expectations.
The location, their skill… everything is wrong!
The spearman and the archer, supposedly new to their rank, fought with the polish of hardened veterans. And this godsforsaken wasteland—he’d rushed to follow them down an unfamiliar path, only to be led into this frozen hell.
His soldiers’ feet sank with every step. The supply corps was hopelessly behind. The bitter cold gnawed even at the superior constitutions of the Demonkin. Kal couldn’t fathom why the humans had chosen this route.
Unless they chose it specifically to kill us. But… they should be suffering, too!
Incredibly, the Grand Masters seemed immune to the elements. They had no visible supply line, yet their stamina was boundless. Aside from one frail-looking human, they were all in perfect condition.
“…Are we the inferior ones?” Kal muttered, the thought a cold stone in his gut.
His soldiers were being ground to paste by the landslide, the survivors cut down by the humans. If the avalanche had struck both sides, he might have seen a path to victory, but the Sword of Glaciers had denied him even that.
Defeat was certain.
Kal thought of his liege, the Marquis of Jealousy, and his eyes flashed with resolve.
“…Fine. I’ll die here. But you bastards will die with me.”
His gaze fell to the red jewel on a cord around his neck. It was an artifact from the Viscountess of Lust, a gift to aid his master. He’d been told that using it would grant him power to rival the Twelve Nobles themselves.
If I’m going to die anyway, I’m taking you all with me!
He crushed the jewel in his fist. It dissolved into dust as the demonic energy sealed within it erupted.
RUUUUUMBLE!
Kal’s eyes gleamed at the tremendous storm of power.
With this. With this, he could finally kill them!
A vicious smile spread across his face.
And in that instant…
“Gah!”
He vomited a spray of black blood and collapsed.
Something was wrong.
He knew the artifact could kill him, but he was supposed to gain the power first.
This wasn’t power. This was just… death. An agonizing, empty death.
He struggled to understand. Then, through his fading vision, he saw the sky itself begin to tear open, the very fabric of the mountains warping around a massive wave of demonic energy.
He had seen this once before.
An Abyssal Realm.
The ultimate, self-destructive attack the Viscount of Sloth had used at his own end. A final curse that annihilated the caster, preventing their soul from even returning to the Demon God’s embrace.
…You deceived me.
“You deceived meeeee!” Kal roared, his last breath a scream of fury directed at the absent Viscountess of Lust.
But it was too late. All that remained was his own annihilation.
Fine. So be it.
Kal ground his teeth, his eyes blazing.
If I am to be erased, I will drag you bastards down with me. Even if my entire force is wiped out, I will kill you all and serve my liege one last time!
He glared at the humans, his final gaze a curse, and then his body dissolved into the rising tide of demonic power.
And in the northern mountains, an Abyssal Realm began to bloom.
* * *
I stared at the demonic energy corrupting the sky and spoke the only words that fit. “Damn it all.”
An Abyssal Realm.
The same accursed technique I had survived twice before was unfolding again.
It was supposed to be a power exclusive to the Twelve Nobles. I had no idea how a common Demonkin had managed it, but the dust of a shattered red jewel in his hand gave me a clue.
“Hah! The snow itself carries demonic energy! I can’t hold the barrier for much longer!” the Grand Duke shouted.
The realm was already altering the environment. The good news was that, judging by the scale of the energy, it wasn’t permanent.
The bad news was that the surviving Demonkin were now bathed in that sickening light, their bodies twisting, their strength multiplying.
“This just went from a battle to a nightmare,” I muttered, hoisting Hans higher on my shoulders.
Our gambit had worked—we’d wiped out nearly two divisions. But getting greedy now would mean fighting empowered demons in a corrupted landscape. We might still win, but the cost would be too high.
“Everyone, we’re breaking out!” I yelled, and without waiting for a reply, I started running for the summit.
Beyond that peak lay the North.
“Kill them all!”
The roars of the reborn Demonkin echoed behind us.
I fired a volley of Aura-laced arrows over my shoulder, my jaw clenched tight.
Four more days.
We had to make it.