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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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“…What am I seeing?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Is that… boy… fighting that monster… alone?”
The injured knights looked around the chaotic battlefield.
The beautiful moonlight and starry sky were a stark contrast to the stench of blood and the mangled corpses littering the ground.
Survivors fought for their lives against the monstrous black flowers.
And in the center of it all, two figures clashed, the sound of their battle echoing through the forest.
“Senior! You’re much weaker than I expected!”
“Don’t worry. I’m still strong enough to kill you…!”
A monster, grotesque and repulsive, a creature from a nightmare.
And a boy, his black hair and eyes as dark and beautiful as obsidian.
Their fight was a spectacle of impossible skill, a dance of death that captivated all who witnessed it.
Flashes of light, the sharp ring of steel against steel.
A flurry of blades, followed by a surge of massive tendrils.
Slashes, thrusts, parries, throws, feints, combos—a dizzying array of combat techniques, each one a lethal blow.
Normally, such a fight would have ended long ago, one of them dead on the ground.
But they continued, their attacks relentless.
Despite the constant clash of blades, blood was rarely shed.
Their attacks seemed to just miss, or were blocked at the last second.
It was a battle, a war, a spectacle that mesmerized and terrified in equal measure.
“…All knights, to me.”
“Sir? But—”
“Are we knights, or are we cowards?”
And his words, his courage, ignited a spark in the hearts of the other knights.
Even those who had lost all hope, who had given in to despair.
“Are you so foolish, so spineless, that you would let someone else avenge your fallen comrades?”
“But… so many of us against one…!”
“Is that really the reason? Are you sure you’re not just… afraid?”
“…”
“There’s no shame in fear. That boy… he’s incredible. To fight without a shred of fear, when a single misstep could mean death…”
The knight commander removed his helmet, a grim smile on his face, his eyes filled with a grim determination.
“But we cannot afford to be afraid. Not now. Not when we’ve lost so many. Not when we are knights.”
“…”
“For the sake of our fallen comrades, we must overcome our fear.”
“…”
“We must charge forward.”
He walked towards the battle, his heavy sword dragging behind him, his aging body straining under the weight of his armor.
“And isn’t it amusing? The Knight Commander, afraid.”
“C-Captain!”
“W-Wait, sir—”
“You don’t have to follow. This is my duty, my responsibility.”
And he charged, his sword trembling, not with fear, but with anticipation.
His final stand, a beautiful, tragic spectacle.
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Right, no, left. The tendril’s trajectory.
I was sure of it. I met it with my blade, but…
It wasn’t there.
He’d changed direction at the last second, his movements impossibly fast, another attack already on its way.
I couldn’t just stand here. I’d die if this continued.
His body was unmarked, not a single scratch. Even the spot where my blade had struck earlier was pristine. His regeneration was incredibly fast.
And unlike me, he wasn’t using mana. I had no idea what the limits of his power were.
I had to end this quickly.
I needed an opening.
And then, I saw it.
A few tendrils, their trajectory slightly off, moving towards my right.
I threw a dagger, and he dodged, but…
The already tangled tendrils became even more entangled.
“Whoops.”
Like a spiderweb.
“This is… a bit of a mess… It’ll take some time to untangle—”
“You don’t really think I’m going to give you that time, do you?”
“Haha, of course not…”
I closed the distance, ignoring the tendrils that brushed against my fingers, and unleashed a flurry of attacks.
My fingers were sliced, but I didn’t care. I focused on his vital points.
Eyes, carotid artery, chest, liver, ribs.
I struck each one, but he didn’t even flinch.
He ignored my attacks and continued his own assault, relentless, like a zombie.
“Haha, Senior, you’ve gotten weak. This life must have been too easy for you.”
“…”
He touched his wounds, then spoke again, his voice unnervingly cheerful.
“I was worried when I found out you were born into a ducal family in this life. How was I supposed to interfere? But the Duke took care of that for me, didn’t he?”
“…”
“After that, it was easy! Just eliminate your emotional support, and you’d crumble on your own!”
“…What?”
My mind went blank, my body froze, and he seized the opportunity.
I was sent flying, crashing into a corner.
“Ugh…”
“Well, I didn’t particularly enjoy that method. It wasn’t as… personal.”
“…”
“But what could I do? It was a majority vote!”
I heard a crack, a bone breaking somewhere deep inside me. The pain was a dull, throbbing ache, lost in the symphony of agony that was my body.
Normally, I would have been more cautious, would have tried to buy time, to assess my injuries.
But I reacted instinctively, pushing myself to my feet, a single question on my lips.
“…What did you say?”
“Honestly, I thought it would be difficult to get close to the Duke’s wife, but she was surprisingly accessible! My plan progressed much faster than I’d anticipated!”
He wasn’t answering my question. He was just rambling, enjoying the sound of his own voice.
Another tendril sprouted from his other shoulder. Another grotesque mass of human flesh.
“Don’t worry, Senior. I’ll only take your arms and legs!”
“What… did you say…?”
The tendrils shot towards me.
I tried to dodge, but my body wouldn’t respond. I had no strength left to block the attack.
The tendrils were almost upon me. I closed my eyes, but he still hadn’t answered my question.
I wasn’t afraid of dying. I could regenerate my limbs.
I was just… annoyed.
Annoyed at my unresponsive body, at the chaos in my mind.
So I screamed, a raw, guttural sound, filled with a confusing mix of rage and despair.
“What did you say?!”
“Silence.”
And then, two colors, blue and red, appeared before me.
Cold and heat, ice and fire, two opposing forces, merging, blocking the tendrils.
“If you’re going to fight, then fight.”
“…Princess?”
And there she was, her jade-green hair a stark contrast to the chaos, her expression a mixture of determination and… something else.
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“What are you doing here, Princess?”
“Am I not allowed to be here?”
“No, that’s not what I meant…”
I wasn’t the only one surprised by her sudden appearance.
“…This is a dangerous place for you, Princess.”
“I’m aware. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“…That’s not what I—”
“You.”
My words were cut short by hers.
“You, heal. I’ll buy you some time.”
“…”
“I’m not the only one who thinks so.”
She pointed, and I saw them.
The Knight Commander, his silver armor and sword a beautiful, deadly dance against the grotesque black tendrils.
He was fighting desperately.
“Haha, I have no interest in old men.”
“Silence, monster…!”
“Senior? I’ll be right there, so just wait patiently, okay?”
The Knight Commander, his swordsmanship masterful, his movements precise, was holding his own against the creature.
But the boy, Jeal, was still smiling, his gaze fixed on me.
It was infuriating.
“…Ha, jealousy?”
“…Have you gone mad?”
She looked at me as if I were insane, but I ignored her, my mind racing.
My body wouldn’t move. My muscles screamed in protest. My bones were shattered. How could I fight?
And then, I remembered.
A solution.
There would be side effects, but what did that matter?
As long as I could survive, as long as I could kill him.
I whispered,
“Mouvior (Move).”
“…Huh?”
A gasp beside me, but my focus was on my right hand.
My right hand, which was moving.
“H-How…? Your injuries… and that language…?”
“Mouvior (Move).”
My leg, which had been pinned beneath a pile of rubble, lifted into the air.
“W-Wait, Jenison…!”
“Mouvior (Move).”
“Mouvior (Move)…”
“Mouvior (Move)…”
Her protests faded into the background.
I couldn’t stop.
These weren’t just words.
They were truth, they were mana, they were reality itself.
The language of dragons, echoing through the Great Forest.
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