—————————————————————–
Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
—————————————————————–
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The deformed Giant charged, its face a mask of rage and hatred.
It swung a massive arm, its momentum nearly throwing it off balance. Aslan, seeing the attack coming, raised his sword to block.
–CLANG!
The impact was staggering. He felt the monstrous strength behind the blow, a crushing force that made him instinctively leap back, dispersing the impact.
–THUD!
His sword deflected, and he stumbled back, the world tilting around him. Even as he struggled to regain his footing, his mind raced, analyzing the situation.
A Giant was still a Giant.
Even deformed, its strength was undeniable.
A power capable of tearing a human limb from limb. If he hadn’t leaped back, absorbing the impact, his arm or leg would have snapped like a twig.
And considering that most wild mages constantly enhanced their strength, this one was likely even stronger than an average Giant.
If a normal Giant had a Strength of 10, this wild mage was at least an 11. Aslan, still airborne, twisted his body, landing gracefully.
The demigod charged again, its eyes rolling wildly, its face streaked with tears of blood and rage.
–WHOOSH!
Two arms swung towards him, the left ones, simultaneously. A blow that would be difficult for most to avoid.
But Aslan leaped, his body twisting in mid-air, passing between the massive arms, the wind whistling past him.
–Crack! Crack!
The arms, narrowly missing him, smashed into several trees, splintering wood and sending branches flying. Aslan landed, just as a blue light erupted from the stigmata-like growths on the Giant’s fingertips.
“Die!”
Aslan saw the light and instantly retreated, twisting his body and rolling backward.
A moment later, the spot where he had been standing a moment before vanished in a cloud of dust and debris. –Kaboom!
The air crackled with dark blue mana, a thick, viscous energy that couldn’t be blocked. Aslan, relieved he had dodged, watched the shimmering mana dissipate.
‘Soul-based magic? Or another form of wild magic?’
The area where the magic had struck glowed with an eerie blue light. Aslan carefully avoided it, catching his breath.
‘A formidable opponent.’
Even a wild mage who manipulated souls would have been a challenge. But this creature – a deformed Giant, a wild mage, and possessed by a demigod – was on a completely different level.
Perhaps even more dangerous than a priest. Especially since it was a completely new type of enemy.
But he could still win.
He could kill it. It would just be difficult. Aslan’s eyes flickered towards a wraith closing in on him, trying to flank him.
The giant wraith swung its arm. Aslan, seeing the movement in his peripheral vision, reacted instantly.
–Swish!
He spun, his sword, Purity, blazing with white light, slicing through the wraith’s arm. The wraith recoiled, clutching its severed limb, and Aslan muttered,
“Heat Metal.”
He turned as he spoke, using the momentum from his swing, his body pivoting. His axe, spinning in the opposite direction, glowed red, then sliced through the wraith’s neck.
–Crack!
Wielding a two-handed weapon like an axe, a sword, or a hammer, with one hand, was usually impractical. But not for Aslan.
It simply required more preparation, more precise movements, limiting his options slightly.
It wasn’t a tactic he could use against human-sized opponents, but most of the wraiths attacking him were larger and slower than he was.
It was a surprisingly effective strategy.
Aslan’s axe, wreathed in red flames and white light, spun in a wide arc, cleaving through a serpent wraith and a wolf wraith in quick succession.
“You said you wanted to talk.”
Ereta spoke, deftly dodging a wraith’s attack, then bringing her axe down, cleaving it in two.
Aslan glanced at her, seeing the strain on her face, her movements not as fluid as usual.
“I did.”
The demigod, its breath coming in ragged gasps, was gathering the wraiths, as if preparing something. Aslan, sensing its intent, continued,
“And then I decided to kill it.”
Ereta, surprised by his blunt words, started to reply,
“You seemed sympathetic earlier… are you sure…”
…but was interrupted by a dog-like wraith lunging at her. She thrust her hammer into its open jaws, then, with a twist of her body, sent it tumbling to the ground. Her axe descended, crushing the wraith’s skull.
—Crack!
“Are you sure about this?”
As she finished her question, the demigod was crushing the gathered wraiths, their forms dissolving into a swirling mass of blue energy. It then began to shape the energy, forming a large sphere.
‘Uh, what is…?’ Ereta started to ask, but Aslan interrupted her.
“I was sympathetic. I still am. If I could avoid this fight, I would. But… I have no choice. If I let it go, people will die.”
The demigod, despite seeing Aslan as its mother, was radiating killing intent. If it felt that way towards him, how would it treat ordinary humans? Aslan had already made his decision. He lowered his stance.
The screams of the compressed wraiths reached a crescendo.
“Die!”
The demigod roared, and the sphere of wraiths hurtled towards them.
The materialized wraiths, their combined mass a solid, physical force, charged like a battering ram.
A powerful attack, capable of crushing a human, of turning even a Giant into a bloody pulp.
Aslan, seeing the incoming projectile, shouted at Ereta, who was staring at it with wide, terrified eyes,
“Cover me!”
And before she could reply, he charged.
The wraith projectile, aimed at both Aslan and Ereta, was a massive, unavoidable force. Dodging was impossible. His only option was to cut through it.
Aslan raised his sword, Purity, its blade shimmering, and took a deep breath.
‘Cleave the Moon.’
He unleashed the two-handed weapon perk, Cleave the Moon, a skill that extended the reach and power of his blade, capable of splitting even the reflection of the moon on a lake.
As his Fighting Spirit surged, a white crescent of energy erupted from his sword, slicing through the incoming mass of wraiths.
–SHATTER!
The sound of shattering glass, of a blade tearing through something solid. The wraiths caught in the attack screamed as their forms dissolved.
Aslan, leaping through the gap he had created, charged towards the demigod.
“Mother die!”
The demigod roared, its hatred palpable, swinging a massive, mana-infused fist. Aslan thrust his sword forward,
–Thud!
The blade pierced its elbow, stopping the blow. He twisted the sword, slashing, then ducked low, avoiding a spray of pus and gore.
“Haa…”
He exhaled, then swung his sword again.
The white-hot blade sliced through the demigod’s flesh, from one of its oozing breasts to its hip. He twisted his body, avoiding the spray of pus, using the momentum from his swing.
–Crack!
His axe descended, cleaving through the demigod’s ankle.
The demigod screamed, then swung its arm, aiming for Aslan’s head.
“Mother die too!”
Its roar was almost a shriek. Aslan raised his sword to block.
–CLANG!
He twisted his body at the moment of impact, deflecting the blow, sending the demigod stumbling. Aslan gritted his teeth against the pain in his arm and leg, his muscles screaming in protest, his bones aching.
He withdrew his sword and turned. The key was rotation.
Lacking in brute strength, Aslan relied on rotational force to generate power.
He used the momentum from his parry to bring the axe down, severing one of the demigod’s arms. The limb landed on the ground with a sickening thud.
–Crack!
“Aaaaagh!”
The demigod shrieked, its voice filled with pain and rage.
Rage at its mother, at the one who had inflicted such pain, who had dared to sever its limb.
It ignored the pain, its fury fueling its movements, and grabbed Aslan’s axe.
–Sizzle.
Its palm sizzled against the hot metal, but it gritted its teeth and swung its fist.
–CLANG!
It held the axe and punched.
The attack was too fast, too close, for Aslan to react. He could only block.
He raised his sword just in time, his legs kicking up, trying to absorb the impact.
But it wasn’t enough. He was thrown back, crashing into a tree.
–Crack!
The tree splintered, and Aslan gasped, blood welling up in his throat. He collapsed.
The demigod, seeing its mother fall, felt a surge of triumph, a chance to finish this.
A chance to kill its mother, a flicker of guilt mixing with its bloodlust as it charged.
“Die! Die! Die!”
It leaped into the air, its massive body a terrifying presence, its momentum generating a powerful gust of wind.
It would crush her, flatten her beneath its weight.
Just as it was about to bring its full weight down, a smile twisting its lips,
“Equalize.”
Aslan, lying on the ground, whispered. His body flickered, his wounds closing, the broken bones realigning. He coughed up blood, then stood, gripping his sword with both hands.
–CRASH!
As the demigod landed, its full weight slamming into Aslan’s raised sword, he held his ground, his body braced, his technique flawless.
Blood spurted from his legs, soaking his pants, pooling on the ground beneath him.
But he held. He gritted his teeth against the pain, the taste of blood in his mouth, and angled his sword.
–Swish!
Two arms were severed. Aslan finally understood another aspect of Purity’s power.
As long as he had Fighting Spirit, it wouldn’t break.
As long as he continued to fight, the blade would remain intact.
He ignored the throbbing in his knees and charged.
“Stay… back!”
The demigod shrieked, three of its arms now gone, only one remaining.
And that was Aslan’s goal.
Fighting a four-armed giant was difficult, too many variables.
But a Giant with only one, or perhaps two, arms was a manageable opponent.
He had the advantage.
His eyes, cold and calculating, assessed the situation, visualizing his victory.
–Clang!
The demigod swung its remaining arm, a powerful downward blow. Aslan parried it, using the ricasso of his sword, then, with a twist of his wrist, deflected the blow.
He instantly followed up with a slash, blood spurting from the demigod’s knee.
He dodged a thrust from the recoiling arm, his sword flashing, slicing deep into the demigod’s side, its entrails spilling out.
He leaped to the side, avoiding a downward blow.
“Die! Die! Die!”
The demigod shrieked, its attacks growing wilder, more desperate, but Aslan parried and deflected each blow, his movements precise and controlled.
He used the momentum from his parries to slash, to cut, to tear.
The demigod’s blood loss was increasing. It felt a surge of fear and tried to gather its wraiths, but they couldn’t get past Ereta.
And even if they did, Aslan, guided by his enhanced Luck, intercepted them, killing them as they passed, or using the demigod’s own attacks against them.
Aslan’s teal eyes, even in the midst of battle, darted around, analyzing the demigod’s movements, its musculature, the way its remaining arm moved.
Wild magic was body modification magic.
While it required understanding, that understanding could be replicated, to a degree.
With the right materials, the right experiments, the right tests.
The wild magic he had been using, the constant strength enhancements, had begun to change his body.
That was why he had been pushing himself, using wild magic so recklessly, despite the risks.
His muscles were changing, adapting, becoming more efficient.
–CLANG!
And now, he was able to deflect the demigod’s blows, his strength almost matching its own.
As the demigod stumbled, its face contorted in a mixture of pain and rage, Aslan saw a message flicker in the corner of his vision, and he murmured,
“Thank you.”
[Wild Magic Acquired: Strength +1]
[Aslan]
[Strength 2] [Agility 1] [Vitality 1]
[Mana 6] [Fighting Spirit 7] [Luck 5]
He pulled his sword back, holding it close to his side, and took a deep breath.
A normal attack wouldn’t be enough to pierce the deformed Giant’s thick hide, its dense muscles and bones.
To end this quickly, he needed a single, decisive blow.
Fortunately, he had the right skill.
Dragonslayer, the Swordsmanship perk.
His sword, Purity, its blade blazing white, turned black, and as the demigod shrieked, its face twisting in a rictus of pain and rage,
–Swish!
…the blackened blade sliced through its stomach, bypassing muscle, bone, and organs, severing its spine.
The wound gaped open, oozing blood and pus.
The demigod froze, its remaining arm hanging limply at its side. Aslan lowered his sword, their eyes meeting.
The demigod spoke, its voice barely a whisper.
“Why…?”
–Thud.
And then it collapsed, dead.
Aslan, his face grim, sheathed his sword, the forest silent around them.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
