Chapter 165
Comparing the strength possessed by the barbarians—including Hrung-ga, in other words, the headhunters—to that of Mikhail or Erich was meaningless.
By now, both Erich and Mikhail were existences that were outliers even among Swordmasters.
However, even those headhunters possessed one thing that they could use better than Mikhail and Erich.
Regardless of differences in skill, in the aspect of manipulating aura within their body, no one could match them.
Hrung-ga recalled what Erich had said.
'They use their abilities differently, huh. Erich, I see now.'
Swordmasters, who emit aura externally.
And the headhunters, who manipulate aura internally—in Erich's view, the way they used their abilities was fundamentally different.
Because of that, headhunters could awaken their abilities much faster than Swordmasters, but their individual destructive power was inferior to that of Swordmasters.
― Pachut!
But what Hrung-ga needed right now was not destructive power.
Neither Mikhail's earth-sundering slash nor Erich's all-consuming flames.
― Pachuchuchut!
From Hrung-ga's wounded area, a sticky red liquid began oozing.
That was Balmung's ability, which Balmung had applied to Hrung-ga.
To any ordinary person, just this fact alone would have been a death sentence...
But not for Hrung-ga.
― Paaaang!
A mellow glow of yellow light radiated from Hrung-ga. At that moment, Balmung's eyes went wide.
[... Im-Impossible.]
[Your power doesn't work on me, Balmung.]
Hrung-ga showed a sinister grin.
Normally, by now, the power Balmung had injected into Hrung-ga's wound should've ravaged his entire body.
Balmung asked with a hardened face.
[... Why can't I sense my ability from you?]
[Because I severed the connection.]
[... What does that mean?]
Hrung-ga uttered those inscrutable words and gripped his club tightly.
In response, sparks danced as the yellow glow enveloped his entire body, synchronizing with his swollen muscles.
Unfortunately for Balmung, Hrung-ga had no intention of explaining all this to him.
As Erich had said, "It's bothersome."
But in that moment, Hrung-ga realized anew why Erich had sent him here.
The powers of the aura users like Balmung had to be controlled by their main body.
But even that was made of aura.
If Hrung-ga circulated aura at high speed throughout his body, that connection would break.
Mikhail and Erich likewise understood this principle, but they couldn't use it.
They didn't utilize aura in the same way as headhunters.
On the other hand, for Hrung-ga, who was accustomed to manipulating internal aura, this was as easy as eating cake lying down.
[Truly, what an irony.]
[...?]
― Pachuchut!
When Hrung-ga clenched his fist, sparks flew once more, and smoke rose from his wounded area.
It was because the blood, imbued with Balmung's ability, had vaporized into the air.
Hrung-ga spoke slowly.
[What helped me most in breaking the secret skill of my own kin... was the guidance of those who aren't my kin.]
Balmung couldn't answer.
There was nothing to say when his ability had so clearly been nullified.
From the moment his power was sealed, Balmung was simply a barbarian who fought a little better than others.
― Kwaaaang!
In the blink of an eye, Hrung-ga's club and Balmung's great scythe clashed.
Balmung, gritting his teeth, managed to parry the attack.
― Kwaang! Kwang!
The massive weapons of the two barbarians collided, sending sparks raining down on the white snowfields.
While Balmung could no longer use his full ability—
― Kwaduk!
—there were still sharp, spike-like protrusions of blood swirling around him, enough that "Ungrim's minion" didn't feel undeserved.
― Chwararararak!
Hrung-ga swung his club to swat away the flying blood spikes. Yet Balmung's tenacious, sticky blood continued to press Hrung-ga.
However, the one actually taking damage was Balmung.
― Jjeoeo-eok!
[Khugh!]
Unable to withstand Hrung-ga's onslaught, Balmung was driven backward.
Even though it was merely a contest of strength, the wounds inflicted by Hrung-ga's biting wind multiplied.
But the light did not die from Balmung's eyes. If anything, his reddish gaze flared even more with fighting spirit.
The two barbarians unleashed fierce attacks at each other.
It was an unbroken sequence of life-or-death moments, so tense one could hardly breathe.
But their blood-soaked brawl did not last long.
In the midst of attacking and dodging, their strikes were already shooting at each other's openings.
― Kwajijik!
The instant the two barbarians crossed weapons, the sound of someone's skin tearing rang out, signaling the conclusion.
***
- Duduk, dudududuk.
With the sound of falling debris, Death Lord's silhouette emerged through the smoke.
Erich sensed instantly that he had not finished the fight with one blow.
Erich glanced sideways, checking his surroundings.
The eternal ice of these great snow mountains of Haratakan was melting, gouged deep by his power.
Rock and soil that perhaps had not tasted outside air in ages were charred black under Erich's might.
― Tsutsuchut.
The golden flame sword in Erich's hand lost its shape and dissipated into the air.
Erich then looked at his hand, where blackened burn marks were clearly visible.
'... Not a power I should use lightly.'
He had wielded it boldly, but Erich knew full well the recoil from this ability was by no means minor.
Pure aura strong enough to injure himself—it was something Erich had never seen or heard of before.
Yet, a subtle smile played on Erich's lips. It was the moment he'd achieved a perfection of power he had longed for.
Erich saw the divine ritual, which had maintained the sword's shape to the end, split into small letters and scatter through the air.
'So, this was the point.'
If he had tried to squeeze out that kind of output with ordinary aura, it would have required a tremendous price or been near impossible.
But Erich chose the divine ritual as the vessel for that power, and thus obtained his answer.
'Maybe this divine ritual is actually something rather terrifying.'
Ordinarily, a fire sword that Erich created would have dissolved immediately into the air.
There were hardly any vessels in the world that could contain such high-density aura.
However, when Erich infused the fire sword with the divine ritual, not only was its form maintained, but its destructive power was amplified as well.
Erich didn't know exactly by what principle or how this was possible. Perhaps he never would.
But, right now, there was one thing he did know.
― Grrrrr.
The Death Lord before him was extremely enraged.
"I didn't expect you to just die for me."
Erich lifted the corners of his mouth and gazed through the smoke at the Death Lord.
The difference this time was that a massive crack had appeared in the monster's breastplate.
Given how difficult it was to penetrate their armor, what Erich had accomplished was even more impressive.
Death Lord emitted a strange growling sound. For one who almost never spoke, this was quite an unusual event.
Still—
Reflecting on how, in the very instant he parried Erich's fire sword, he had mobilized all his defenses to nullify the blow, one could tell just how skilled the monster was.
At that moment, the Death Lord's eyes glowed a stark white as he spoke.
-... That power. Where did you acquire it?
A discomfort, as though the voice vibrated directly inside his mind.
But Erich weathered the urge to smash the creature, meeting Death Lord's gaze head-on.
A chill like ice piercing bone swept over Erich.
"Is it really that important to know?"
-... There is something disagreeable in your power. Yet I cannot fathom what it is.
For the silent knight-servant of the Lord of the Dead to speak with his own mouth—this could not but be called an extraordinary event.
But it seemed that the destructive force of the power Erich had shown was enough to force even this creature to break its own conventions.
Death Lord's battered plate armor clattered awkwardly.
When Erich did not respond, he slowly drew another weapon from behind his back.
This time, instead of a sword, it was a spear.
Was there a hidden place to store weapons somewhere?
Erich was quietly surprised at how fast the monster had switched arms.
However, Death Lord was not in the same condition as before.
Not only Mikhail's mighty slash, but the wound from Erich's fire sword, was quite deep.
Blue blood slowly seeped from the cracks in the monster's dented armor.
'... Twice?'
Erich calculated in his head.
He was estimating how many more times he could draw out the sword of light.
The answer: only two more times.
He had minimized his expenditure as much as possible, but the result was still not as satisfactory as he'd hoped.
"Hm, it can't be helped."
Erich calmly prepared to approach the Death Lord.
But then, a sudden brightness flared in Erich's eyes.
As he remembered landing a blow on the Death Lord here, and recalled what the creature looked like before its regression, something flashed through Erich's mind.
It was the reason why the Death Lord had come here.
And the reason why it absolutely had to stop Erich here, at the summit of Haratakan.