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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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Aslan and Harod charged at the War Monk, their weapons flashing.
Each clash of metal resulted in a deafening clang, and with each impact, Harod staggered back, gasping for breath.
–Clang!
Even catching his breath was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He gritted his teeth, parrying the War Monk’s relentless spear thrusts with his greatsword.
–Screech!
Sparks flew as the metal of his greatsword shrieked in protest, being steadily chipped away by the War Monk’s relentless assault.
The War Monk’s attacks were fierce.
The spear was powerful and had a long reach, making it difficult to dodge. The War Monk wielded it with the speed and precision of a dagger, pushing Harod to his limit.
Harod’s survival was due to his own experience and Aslan’s relentless attacks.
–Clang! Scrape! Crack!
Aslan ducked low, his axe scraping against the Collector’s shield. The Collector raised the shield, then brought it down like a guillotine.
–Whoosh!
–Crack!
Aslan, heeding his instincts, jerked his head back just as the edge of the shield slammed into the ground, leaving a deep gouge in the earth.
Aslan clicked his tongue, then lunged forward again.
–Clang! Scrape! Crack!
“Tch.”
Aslan aimed a kick at the War Monk’s exposed foot, but the Collector angled his shield, blocking the blow. Aslan followed up with an axe swing aimed at the side of the shield, but the Collector shifted his foot back, using the shield to cover his entire body.
A single movement from the Collector neutralized both of Aslan’s attacks.
Sparks flew as the axe struck the shield.
The all-metal shield held firm, offering no opening.
But Aslan pressed on, his attacks relentless against the seemingly impenetrable defense.
–Whoosh!
Aslan ducked under the Collector’s spear thrust, deflecting the following shield bash with an angled block of his sword.
His mana-enhanced strength allowed him to redirect the force of the blow. The War Monk, its multifaceted eyes fixed on Aslan, continued its relentless assault, thrusting and swinging its spear.
“Haa!”
Aslan parried a downward spear thrust with his sword, using his axe to block a follow-up attack. He stumbled back. Harod seized the opportunity, leaping forward and bringing his greatsword down in a powerful overhead swing.
–Clang!
The War Monk deflected the blow with its shield, sending the greatsword flying.
As the Dragonkin’s weapon spun through the air, Aslan shoved Harod aside with his shoulder and caught the greatsword.
He brought the stolen greatsword down in a powerful swing, mirroring Harod’s earlier attack, but with far greater precision and force.
The blade clashed against the War Monk’s spear. The Collector shifted its massive frame, its three spear-wielding arms whirling, deflecting the blow.
–Screech! Clang!
The screech of metal against metal filled the air. Aslan thrust and slashed with the greatsword.
–Crack!
The War Monk’s hard carapace cracked under the force of the blow, a shallow gash appearing in the chitin.
“…Hmm!”
The War Monk stared at the mark on its carapace in surprise.
The power behind the attack was unexpected, far greater than the stance and momentum would suggest. Even the War Monk was caught off guard.
It was the effect of a combat skill perk.
A perk that doubled his attack power at the cost of double weapon durability.
A perk gained after countless battles and near-death experiences, the reward for reaching level 20 in the Combat skill.
This perk was Aslan’s most potent weapon.
“Dangerous attacks! I must be careful!”
The War Monk declared cheerfully, suddenly thrusting its shield forward.
Aslan, surprised by the sudden appearance of the shield, pulled back his sword and retreated.
“Harod.”
“Ah, thank you.”
Aslan returned the greatsword to Harod, then drew his own sword and axe, and lunged forward again.
Sparks flew with each clash of metal, the air thick with the scent of steel and killing intent.
Harod watched, a sigh escaping his lips.
He had been prepared, but the difference in their skill was still overwhelming.
Aslan’s attacks were a blur, too fast to follow, while the War Monk’s movements seemed to control the very space around them. Harod couldn’t even find an opening to join the fray.
He wanted to fight, but he had to prioritize his own survival, biding his time, waiting for an opportunity.
If he hadn’t, he would have been cut in half in the first few exchanges.
Aslan and the Collector clashed fiercely, each leveraging their strengths. It was like watching two stars collide, trying to consume each other.
The seemingly even fight came to an abrupt halt as Aslan’s axe shattered.
–Crack!
As splinters of wood flew through the air, the War Monk swung its shield, aiming to knock Aslan off balance and press its advantage. The massive figure loomed over Aslan.
But Aslan didn’t flinch.
He charged forward, as if he had been waiting for this, the name of a perk echoing in his mind.
‘Call Lightning.’
And then, lightning struck.
–Crackle!
A white energy crackled around his blade, accompanied by a deafening thunderclap.
The War Monk froze. Harod, seeing the opening, charged forward.
The War Monk realized, just as the glowing blade connected with its shield, that even the thunderclap was part of Aslan’s plan.
The shield, which had seemed capable of crushing Aslan, was thrown back with tremendous force.
–Clang!
“…What?!”
The recoil was so strong that the War Monk, despite holding the shield with three hands, lost its grip. It couldn’t react to this unexpected technique.
Harod, who had reached the War Monk, caught the flying shield.
“An interesting trick, but it won’t work!”
The War Monk roared, reversing its grip on its spear. It hurled the spear, held between three hands, with the full force of its massive frame. It was aimed at Aslan.
–Crackle!
But it didn’t reach him. Harod, holding the captured shield, jumped in front of Aslan. The spear pierced the shield, embedding itself deep within the metal, but stopping short of Aslan.
Aslan drew a round shield with his left hand and smiled.
The War Monk had lost both its spear and its shield. Completely disarmed the moment Harod discarded the impaled shield.
The War Monk felt a flicker of humiliation, but it still had one weapon left.
The Collector threw the sack hanging from its waist, revealing the executioner’s sword hidden beneath.
The War Monk drew the sword, grinning.
The Collector was, before anything else, known as the Decapitator. The one who wielded the executioner’s sword, severing heads for offerings.
This was the Collector’s true nature.
The War Monk gripped the executioner’s sword, its blade gleaming like gold, with all six of its arms.
Four arms wrapped around the slightly elongated hilt, one hand gripped the pommel, and the remaining hand held the ricasso, just above the crossguard.
“It’s not over yet, Master of Battle! Show me your true strength!”
The Collector roared, swinging the executioner’s sword.
Aslan raised his shield and angled his sword, ready to meet the blow.
–Crack!
As the heavy, sharp blade of the executioner’s sword descended, Aslan parried it with his own, sparks flying. The shower of sparks illuminated the darkening forest.
“Haa!”
The War Monk swiftly rotated the executioner’s sword with all six arms, then thrust.
The tip of the executioner’s sword, though blunt, was aimed at Aslan’s throat. A direct hit would break his neck. Aslan leaped back, deflecting the thrust with his round shield. The sword whirled again, coming down in a powerful overhead swing.
–Screech!
Aslan twisted his body, deflecting the blow with the pommel of his sword. The executioner’s sword glanced off his weapon, slicing into the ground.
Aslan faced the War Monk’s six-armed swordsmanship with his own two-armed shield and sword technique.
Each clash of metal echoed through the forest, draining Aslan’s mana. Even though he only used his mana-enhanced strength at the moment of impact, the cost was adding up.
The Collector sensed something.
Aslan seemed to be stalling. His earlier aggressive attacks were gone, replaced by a focus on defense.
Even Harod remained at a distance, watching silently.
A sense of unease settled over the Collector. Then…
–Crack!
The large, rectangular blade of the executioner’s sword shattered Aslan’s longsword, cleaving through the shield beneath. Aslan stumbled.
A clear advantage.
But something felt wrong. Aslan’s expression remained calm, devoid of fear.
As if he had been waiting for this.
And then it happened.
“Yaaaaah!”
A figure burst from the bushes.
A girl’s voice, high-pitched and clear.
A slender frame.
Thin limbs, a hand axe raised high.
The War Monk glanced in her direction, then froze in surprise.
A familiar, yet somehow different, energy surrounded the girl.
The Collector blurted out,
“A vestige of the Old Gods…!”
His voice, filled with surprise, drew his attention away from Aslan.
Aslan, sensing the shift in the War Monk’s focus, gripped the broken longsword with both hands.
–Clang!
He swung the blade horizontally with all his might. The War Monk, startled, barely managed to block the unexpected attack.
The girl, imbued with the power of the Old Gods, was charging from behind, while the Master of Battle stood before him.
The War Monk miscalculated, believing Aslan to be the greater threat.
The energy surrounding the girl, while clearly of divine origin, didn’t seem that powerful.
So, trusting in his armor, the War Monk braced himself for the girl’s attack.
–Thwack!
“Gah…!”
That was his mistake.
He had underestimated Angie’s strength.
And with his shield gone, he had no way to defend against attacks from both front and back.
Angie’s axe buried itself deep into the War Monk’s back. The Collector, reeling from the pain and shock, faltered.
It had all gone according to Aslan’s plan.
He had kept Angie hidden, preventing the War Monk from assessing her true strength. He had used Harod to disarm the Collector.
He had maintained constant pressure, aggressive attacks, creating the impression that he was the greater threat.
As a result, the War Monk had miscalculated.
An opening had appeared.
A fleeting opening, but enough for Aslan.
Because Aslan was the Master of Battle.
Aslan lowered the broken longsword, took a deep breath, and whispered the name of a skill.
‘Dragonslayer.’
The name of the ultimate Sword skill perk.
As he spoke, the blade turned black.
And then, he thrust, aiming for the War Monk’s throat.
The War Monk saw the black blade coming for its throat and raised its executioner’s sword to block. Just one block, and he could turn the tables.
But as the blackened blade connected with the executioner’s sword, it vibrated, then passed straight through.
Aslan’s sword sliced through the War Monk’s throat without a sound.
“How…?”
The blade, having pierced the War Monk’s exoskeleton, wasn’t even stained with blood or any other fluid.
A clean cut. The War Monk, its vocal cords still intact, spoke in astonishment. Aslan relaxed his stance.
“Dragonslayer.”
Aslan calmly stated the name of the Sword skill perk, sheathing his weapon.
“One of the reasons your god covets me.”
This was the Master of Battle. The Collector, in true War Monk fashion, felt a surge of awe as its arms went limp. The executioner’s sword clattered to the ground, and its massive body slowly collapsed.
A moment later, its head rolled across the ground.
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