Chapter 43 - Academy Field Trips Always Come Under Attack (7)

He extended his mana, spreading it evenly through every corner of his nervous system, holding his breath as he fine-tuned his sense of the mana flowing through his veins.

CREAK.

Senses normally beyond his awareness awakened. Time broke into discrete segments. As the tip of his index finger pulled the trigger, he could detect even the faint friction of the spring twisting inside the gun.

This was the battlefield of superhumans.

BANG!

The gun fired. At that same instant, he opened his eyes.

The muzzle flash briefly illuminated the dark tunnel. This was why he had heightened his senses: to keep the sudden light from blinding his dark-adapted eyes.

The stimulation made his eyes sting painfully, but that was fine. He was used to this much.

Three figures registered on Ivan's retinas like afterimages.

"A gun! Someone else is here!"

"Damn it, where was he hiding?!"

The figure leaning against the wall was Oscar. The two short figures slowly approaching from farther down the tunnel were Dwarves.

As he fired, Ivan saw sparks fly near one Dwarf's head.

Standard Dwarven infantry equipment.

He immediately shifted his aim and ran forward.

"He's coming! Get ready!"

The leading Dwarf shrieked the warning. Judging by the afterimage still lingering on Ivan's retinas, this one carried a two-handed axe.

Standard Dwarven infantry equipment meant absurdly heavy plate armor that covered the entire body like a golem. Thick, monstrous gear that ordinary attacks couldn't even crack.

Apart from the eyeholes and a few weak points at the joints, it offered almost absolute protection against external blows.

'Hence the sword.'

That was why he couldn't use an axe. No amount of hacking would so much as crack that armor. During the war, these creatures had survived being buried beneath a mountain range.

Even under the weight of massive boulders, the sturdiness of their armor had kept them alive.

A fighting technique had been developed to deal with them.

SHRAK!

"Ha! Human! Not a chance!"

The blade scraped across the plate armor, scattering sparks. As the sword rebounded, a long whistle cut through the air.

WHOOOSH!

Instantly sensing its direction and speed, Ivan bent at the waist. A massive axe blade swept through the air just above him.

He let it pass, raised his left hand, and fired again.

BANG!

This time he shot toward the other Dwarf, who would be behind the first. Sparks burst from the muzzle, revealing his opponent once more.

His stance, his balance, the weak points in his armor, his smirk, even the long gray beard beneath his chin.

Ivan held his sword straight and drove it in with a swift thrust.

CLACK!

"You bastard!"

The Dwarf roared. The strike had precisely targeted a joint, with accuracy almost impossible to believe in this darkness.

But that wasn't enough. Thinking so, the Dwarf swung his axe again.

WHOOOSH!

Another dodge, another metallic scrape. A strike at the same spot. A mechanical repetition of the process.

The armor's weak points were its joints, reinforced with chain mail and gambeson. Those alone provided ample protection against blades, but not enough to stop a superhuman's sword strikes.

So he struck again.

CLACK!

"That technique...! You were on the battlefield ten years ago?"

"Is that all?"

He had answered without thinking. Ivan chuckled. The Kim Seonwoo inside him had screamed that it had been twenty years.

Whatever his feelings, his hands kept doing their job.

BANG!

Another shot. With that momentary glimpse, he stepped back to avoid the Dwarf approaching from behind and swung his sword, severing the mail with a metallic snap.

He was the one who had first devised this technique. Lieutenant Colonel Ivan Petrovich. A captain at the time.

The technique was called the "Dwarf Flayer."

"Grrr...!!"

CLACK! CLANG!

At last, the Dwarf's pauldron came away. As the impact sent the blade bouncing upward, Ivan smoothly released the hilt and reached straight for his waist.

It took less than a breath to draw a dagger from his belt and bury it in the Dwarf's exposed shoulder.

THUNK!

"Gaaaaagh!!"

A shoulder injury was devastating for a warrior. It was little different from losing an arm. The movements of the Dwarf holding the two-handed axe grew visibly sluggish.

But there were two enemies. The other Dwarven warrior finally reached him and swung his weapon.

"Stop!!"

WHOOSH!

Again, Ivan evaded the weapon and raised the pistol in his left hand. This time he took precise aim and steadied his breathing before firing.

BANG!

"Aaaaagh!!"

One precise shot at the hilt of the dagger embedded in the shoulder. The dagger flew off into the darkness of the tunnel. With his shoulder forcibly torn open, the Dwarf screamed and sank to the ground.

Ivan spun to reposition himself. He released the pistol and drew another dagger from his belt.

SHING.

Only now did the sword he had first sent into the air begin to fall. He caught its hilt precisely in midair and swung again.

CLACK!

He drove the "Flayer" into the newly arrived Dwarf. In this moment, parsing out breath and time, he thrust and twisted his blade in a whirlwind of motion, peeling away the armor layer by layer.

With the precision of a surgeon at work. Exact. Stitch by stitch.

In darkness so deep he couldn't see a hand before his face, facing two Dwarves who possessed darkvision, he worked both hands at once.

Dismantling their armor, driving daggers into exposed flesh, tossing his sword into the air, firing his pistol, then catching the falling sword to swing again.

* * *

"What... is this...?"

Oscar gaped, swallowing a groan.

Only moments ago, he had resolved to fight for his life and die a death that would not disgrace his chivalry.

Now a bizarre figure had appeared before him and was slaughtering the unknown enemies.

"The sounds are almost overlapping."

This defied common sense. The sounds of the sword swings were almost overlapping. That meant the intervals between strikes were incredibly short.

How could anyone move like that? Oscar gave a hollow laugh.

If that man was an attacker, he had no choice but to die.

The battle ended in an instant. The unidentified man who had charged in at the first gunshot returned before two breaths had passed, bringing the heavy smell of blood with him.

"Can you actually see anything?"

Humans had no darkvision. Only races such as Dwarves and demons possessed it. In other words, he was also asking whether the man was human.

"You don't have to see to fight."

"Ha..."

"Is your leg injured?"

"Yes. Shamefully, I broke it when I was caught in the landslide."

"You have an orb, I assume?"

"Yes."

"Then stay here and wait. Quietly."

The man turned to leave. Oscar hastily raised his head.

"Wait! Just a moment! May I at least ask your name?"

"Ivan Petrovich."

"Where... where are you going? If there's anything I can do, I'll help!"

"A student should focus on his studies."

He heard the man chuckle in the darkness.

The retreating footsteps returned, and a hand rested on Oscar's head.

"I never liked your father, but it seems he raised his child well. Oscar, son of Gilles Vert. You conducted yourself admirably."

"... You know my father?"

"If that fellow hasn't forgotten me yet, we're friends."

The man turned and left again. This time he walked silently away without looking back.

His steady footsteps gradually receded, heading somewhere deeper in the tunnels.

* * *

Isabelle sat motionless in the darkness.

Fortunately, she had made it down without any major injuries, but she wasn't foolish enough to move recklessly when she couldn't see.

"They'll cancel the exam, right? They won't just fail us, will they?"

That was her only concern. It felt as though four hours had already passed, but she couldn't even begin to judge how much time had actually elapsed.

STEP. STEP.

Isabelle's head snapped up. Footsteps.

Had rescuers finally arrived? She sprang to her feet and shouted.

"Over here! Someone's here!"

"What's your name?"

"Isabelle! Wait, are you deciding who to rescue based on their names?!"

"Found her! Target secured! Get the commander!"

"Huh?"

Target? Commander?

Her mind raced, and she jolted in alarm.

The ground suddenly collapsing, the rush of earth, and a cavern too dark to see a thing.

And now "target" and "commander." Could this be...?

"Seriously! I'm so sick of this!"

Again! Another terrorist attack in this forest, and one targeting her, at that.

How many people had been caught up in it? How many had died along the way?

Isabelle ground her teeth.

They had said they'd found their target, and it had taken them a long time to appear after she fell into the trap. Surely this involved more than just one or two people.

Soon, heavy footsteps echoed throughout the cavern beyond.

STEP. STEP. STEP.

A group was approaching her, silent, without even a murmur.

Trained soldiers. And they either had darkvision or a comparable spell cast on them. They would need at least that much to move as a group through this dark cavern.

Isabelle raised her sword straight before her, her eyes blazing with rage.

She was done with others sacrificing themselves for her.

She was sick of living with guilt over those who had died.

So she drew a deep breath to unleash this anger that had nowhere to go.

"I am Isabelle, daughter of Maximilien and Marie. A knight of Thilles. Name yourself!"

"Impressive spirit indeed."

A deep voice came from far away.

"Senior Captain Astuk, of the Web Makers combat engineers, Third Battalion, directly under the Fifth Dragon General. In your terms, yes... a commander of a thousand, I suppose."

The moment she heard that, Isabelle remembered the Centurion named Eiphellos. The demon officer Ivan had taken in.

Her fight with him had truly been a struggle to the death. His rank had been Centurion, so assuming demon ranks were determined by strength...

'He's stronger than that guy was.'

Isabelle pressed her lips tightly together. Commanding a thousand didn't mean he was simply ten times stronger than a Centurion, but it was clear there would at least be a corresponding gulf in fighting ability.

And he wasn't alone. A whole group was approaching with him.

Her vision was severely limited, too. No, not limited—she couldn't see a thing.

'Am I really going to die like this...?'

There was no fear. Hadn't she expected death at any moment from the day she took up a sword?

She thought of her father. Maximilien would not have shown fear even in a situation like this.

So she must not show fear of death, at least not before demons.

She was a knight of Thilles. And the hero's daughter. The price of the countless privileges she had enjoyed left no room for a right to fear.

Only duty. The duty to remain steadfast even before death.

"Come. I, Isabelle of Thilles, will die on my feet today!"

"... Comrade. How old did you say she was?"

"Yes, Comrade Commander! The girl turns twenty this year!"

"Change of plans. Kill her without fail. We must not leave a future threat alive."

Any demon who had risen to command a thousand remembered the Hero's Party. Even if they had never met them in person, to demons the hero was death made manifest.

Encounter him, and you died. Go near him, and you died. Fail to flee the moment you heard a rumor of him, and you died.

A veritable natural disaster. An unpredictable one, at that. The Hero's Party's movements were classified at the highest level in the United Kingdoms, so their attacks on enemy positions always came as a surprise.

No matter how many tracking parties were sent out, none returned. They had concealed their whereabouts with utter thoroughness.

Having reigned as the demons' terror, the Hero's Party finally slew the Demon King. Then the war ended. Unfortunately for the demons, that meant they never had a chance to overcome their "hero trauma."

So this girl, displaying courage impossible at her age, had to die. He would have to take her head home.

He must show his comrades back home that even a symbol of terror could not escape death...

"Go on, then. Try to kill me. A knight of Thilles never falls alone!"

Isabelle wanted to run. She wanted to collapse. She was only a girl who had just turned twenty.

But she couldn't.

When she thought of the countless people killed in the train attack that day, and her classmates caught up in this attack now, she had no right to despair before the death approaching her.

'I do have that one regret.'

She certainly regretted never getting to go on a date with him. Thinking about it now, what she felt when she thought of that man did seem to be more than simple fondness.

That was a shame. She could have shown it a little more.

* * *

TSK. TSK. TSK.

"...?"

A rhythmic sound came from farther down the cavern.

TSK. TSK.

Short sounds made by rubbing the tongue against the front teeth.

What was that sound? Astuk narrowed his eyes. The noise echoed through the tense silence before battle. Somehow, it was familiar.

He felt as though he'd heard it somewhere before...

'Rhythmic tongue clicks...? A human—echolocation?!'

The moment the memory surfaced, several deductions followed in quick succession.

'Only one group of humans has mastered echolocation well enough to use it in battle.'

'The Krasilof monarchy trained that group in secret during the last war.'

'And this is Krasilof...'

Astuk recoiled in alarm and raised his weapon close.

If the Hero's Party embodied the fear of death, then "that group" embodied the terror of the night. They had made even demons with darkvision fear the darkness.

Assassins whom Enrique, the Shadow Blade, had devoted her full efforts to training.

People for whom the questions "when," "where," and "how" were meaningless.

Quite literally, they would complete their objectives anytime, anywhere, by any means, then vanish like shadows in the night.

"The Extermination Unit!! Those accursed things are still around?! Comrades, weapons up! Stay alert!"

TSK. TSK. TSK...

The rhythmic noise echoed through the cavern, then abruptly stopped.

Silence settled heavily over everything. The Dwarves, who had seemed ready to attack at any moment, formed a defensive square where they stood and hunkered down.

Isabelle swallowed and looked around. She couldn't see anything, but she could at least tell that the enemies were behaving strangely.

'The Extermination Unit...? What's that...?'

She had never heard the name before. But it seemed famous among them. A moment ago, they had been as relaxed as if they were out for a neighborhood stroll. Now they had frozen, instantly on edge.

And then.

CLACK.

With the heavy sound of metal parts sliding against one another.

BANG!

There was light.