Chapter 299 - Lycanos the Bandit

Lycanos watched the Cultists' advance grind to a halt. A man was fighting a dire wolf barehanded over there. It was impossible not to notice him. ROAR! The man took a blow from the dire wolf's forepaw square in the chest, but... "Hahaha! How refreshing!" What the hell was that body made of, to take a monster's paw and come away with nothing but scratches and bruises? The yellow bruising only made the sight more unnatural. An ordinary man should have been reduced to a bloody pulp. In any case, after withstanding the monster's forepaw, the man used a forepaw of his own. BANG! "Do you find that refreshing?" What, exactly, was supposed to be refreshing? All Lycanos could do was marvel at the monster staggering from the blow. 'Is that bastard insane?' And he wasn't the only one. The Cultists' advance was in disarray. They weren't putting up a proper fight. Why? He knew instinctively. Something was wrong with their command. The Cultists had their troubles, but his own front was crawling with formidable enemies too. There was Encrid, whom he had failed to kill, and a swordsman single-handedly cutting, slashing, and killing his way through the unit Lycanos had personally trained. 'That bastard's no joke either.' They had crossed blades once, and by any measure the man was at least his equal. Would the fastest sword strike work? He wondered, but had no desire to test it. No, whether it worked or not, he didn't want that bastard to be the one he crossed swords with for the last time. Was this one final act of selfishness? Or the warrior's fighting spirit he had turned away from until now? 'What does it matter?'

He hadn't expected his end to come like this. "Let's finish this, just the two of us."

Lycanos addressed Encrid, who had withdrawn to one side. It wasn't that the blond opponent failed to satisfy him. He simply wanted to choose his own end. 'The first man to block my sword.'

He simply couldn't get the man who had matched his fastest sword strike out of his mind. It was also the first time he had failed to kill someone after setting his mind to it. No, the second. But the first man to evade it had been a knight. That was why this felt like the first time. Knights ought to be excluded from the reckoning. Encrid stared blankly at him. He rose on unsteady legs, gripping and regripping his sword several times. What did that stance, that bearing reveal? A man who advanced without backing down. 'I should never have left him to my men.'

That had been his mistake. 'Let's fight.' This being the end didn't mean he was determined to kill Encrid at any cost. Having fought him once, he simply wanted to fight him again. His fighting instinct, the youthful fire he thought he had forgotten, awakened of its own accord. He had copied that speed? He was a genius? Then let him face the sword Lycanos had spent his life honing. Let them pit their speed against each other. That was all. Lycanos's eye shone like a twinkling star. It was not the eye of a man who had given up. Having caught his breath, Encrid tightened his grip on his sword again. At last, it felt comfortable. A small preparation. "All right."

Encrid didn't refuse. He had no reason to. He wanted another bout just as much. Seeing Encrid step forward, Ragna cut down the surrounding subordinates, ensuring no one else could approach. That was enough. Encrid limped into position. His leg was already far from sound. Lycanos wasn't unscathed either. He had rushed in to block Ragna's sword and suffered a cut to his right shoulder. Blood kept streaming from it. The two faced each other. Sleet fell between them. The snow on the ground was growing thicker. "You've got something good wrapped around your belly, haven't you?"

At Lycanos's question, Encrid nodded. Wrapped around him was the item that had saved him from a hole in the gut time and again. Lycanos nodded and thought,

'That settles where to aim.' He let his arm hang. He would thrust with a single explosive surge of muscle. One point. Aim for just one point. Strike that point along the best possible path. End it with that. End it? Was that the end? Win, then die? Looking at him now, the opponent didn't seem all that impressive. Then should this really be the end? Why should he end it? Lycanos changed his mind.

'Once I finish him, I'll salvage the situation.' He had made it this far because he had never accepted an end as the end. His determination to live, his achievements, what he had yet to achieve, what he had left behind, the things that would someday be his. Lycanos's eye clouded over, like pure white snow muddied by the blood and earth beneath it. Even so, his presence was a finely honed blade. Sharp, ever so sharp. Lycanos, too, wielded 'Will.' His 'Will' was confined to his arm. The moment his determination imbued the force of that outstretched arm, it became the fastest sword strike. Realizing he was ready, Lycanos swung his sword back and forth. Realizing he was ready, Lycanos swung his sword back and forth. That strange, pendulum-like motion drew the eye. Encrid was a little different from usual.

'How fast was it?' There had been a time when Rem's axe looked like a ray of light to him. But this man's sword went beyond that. In the instant it flashed, it pierced his body. Wasn't that why he still couldn't use his right arm properly? Suddenly, Encrid recalled the moment he had saved the child. An herb gatherer, the child had said. He had saved that child through the art of concealing his intent. Should he do the same now, then? Ah, no. He didn't want to. He wanted to cross swords. He wanted to pit his own blade against the fastest sword strike, the swiftest blade. 'Speed, too.'

He wanted to embrace it, take it into himself, understand it, master it. He had his repeating today. It let him chase down, one after the other, two rabbits fleeing in opposite directions. Now was the time to catch the second rabbit. The heart of the beast beat. The moment he recognized his opponent's speed, his taut muscles relaxed. The boldness within him made that possible. With just the right amount of strength in his arm and hand, he held the sword in a gentle grip and aimed it forward. The longsword's tip rose diagonally, piercing the sky. Next came the sensory arts. He layered intent over his dodging sense. The determination he needed now was to thrust. He thought of that alone. The focus he had cultivated through Concentrate on a Single Point would erupt the instant he wielded his sword. The body forged through the Isolation Technique was the foundation supporting it all. Encrid acknowledged and perceived all of this, then forgot it. He erased everything from his mind except the opponent before him. Who he was, who his opponent was, what this was for. Only a swift sword remained. WHOOSH. The air was pushed aside. Faster than the oncoming air, a sword had already reached the front of his throat. THUNK! Flesh tore, and Encrid crumpled. As he fell toward the ground, the ferryman appeared before him like a phantom. His upper body floating amid the snowflakes, the ferryman asked, "Does it please you so much?" A broad smile had already spread across Encrid's face. In that final strike, the moment he thrust, he had felt something akin to refusal. Determination. 'Will.' It had not dwelled in his arm to aid him. This time, his 'Will' had dwelled in an 'instant.' Briefly, it had traveled from his toes through his knees and waist, past his shoulder and elbow, and into his fingertips. For that one fleeting instant, Encrid's sword had been faster than Lycanos's.

* * *

Even under attack by assassins, Graham did not hold himself back. He stood his ground on the battlefield and brought his strength to bear. "Do not fall back!" Dunbachel had burst into the midst of it and turned the battlefield upside down, while Sinar went about slitting the throats of the mercenaries who formed the enemy's main fighting force. Graham had been making his way through the thick of that chaotic melee when he heard, "There, sir. The enemy commander." It was his adjutant, who also served as his bodyguard. Beyond the adjutant's firmly seated helmet, he could indeed see the enemy commander. And Encrid, standing before him. The two faced each other. Ragna was there too, fighting and cutting down everyone around them, but something in the air between those two seized Graham's attention at once. He stopped pressing his attack. They weren't swinging their swords at each other. Neither had a blade at the other's throat. Yet the instant he saw them, his palms began to sweat. The tension raised the fine hairs on his skin. The sweat trickling down him felt cold. He no longer saw the falling snow. Without realizing it, Graham focused entirely on the two men. Most of the soldiers watching were in much the same state. The pair were like a storm sucking in every gaze around them. It was the result of their 'Will' taking effect, but few would know the reason. 'Ah.'

Graham felt a sense of foreboding. The enemy commander's sword was that frightening. 'He'll die.'

It was as though he could see Encrid's death before his eyes. Neither had moved yet, but when the enemy commander did, Encrid's throat would be pierced. He was certain of it. 'No!'

He had to stop this. Encrid wasn't meant to die there. Save him. Was there any need for him to risk his life in this fight? None. Naturally, Graham never had the chance to intervene. Without a signal or even a hint that they were about to begin, the enemy commander and Encrid moved. They thrust their swords and crossed. No, passed each other. Graham hadn't so much as blinked, yet he failed to see their blades fulfill their purposes. It ended the instant it began. He hadn't seen how it happened. But he saw the result. "Ah."

Graham let out a single exclamation. He was that astonished. It was that unexpected, and relief mingled with the surprise. He saw the man called Lycanos fall. Encrid hadn't escaped unscathed either. Blood streamed from his neck too. But he calmly pressed a hand to the wound, turned his head, and stood, showing that he was all right. 'Good!'

Graham smacked his thigh with his fist without thinking. "Lunatic Company Commander!" "Uhhh, Company Commander of Pain!" The watching soldiers and Graham's bodyguard let out something like cheers. Their hearts were full. He had won! Graham thought the tide of battle had turned. It was over. Perhaps it was only natural to let one's guard down. No, Graham hadn't let his guard down. His bodyguard had. BOOM! Earth suddenly erupted behind Graham. Three assassins had been hiding underground. WHOOSH, WHOOSH, WHOOSH. All three thrust at Graham's back. Only one of them achieved his aim. THUD, THUD, THUD! The three had burst through the ground together, but a sword shaped like a leaf sent two heads flying. Appearing from nowhere, its wielder swung the blade as she sailed through the air. The leaf sword curved in and severed both assassins' necks in an instant. "Never let your guard down."

The Fairy Company Commander spoke as she swung. She had stayed near Graham at Krais's request. And so the Fairy fulfilled her duty. The third assassin, however, was tenacious. He thrust an arm into the Fairy's sword. At the cost of that arm, he drove a short spear into Graham's back with his remaining hand. THUNK! The spearpoint was coated in poison. "Oh, fuck."

Graham clenched his molars and staggered backward. It hadn't gone all the way through, but the wound was fairly deep. "For a new world."

The assassin left those final words. Sinar swung her leaf sword without hesitation. The Fairy's leaf sent his head flying.

* * *

Lycanos watched it all from where he lay. He knew instinctively that he was dying. He thought nothing of the reasons, the circumstances, or the path that had brought him here. Only regret remained. 'Brother.'

He spoke inwardly. The hole in his throat kept the words from coming out. He lay watching his subordinate stab the enemy commander in the back and die. Naturally, his gaze turned toward the sky. Snow was falling thick and fast. Blood filled his eye, turning even the white snow red. Everything around him began to take on a crimson hue. As he died, Lycanos recalled a moment from his past. ["If we're going to be thieves, we'll be thieves who steal a throne. We'll build a new world. We'll seize freedom for ourselves."] Did being born a serf mean you had to surrender even your life? Did having nothing mean you had to accept persecution as your lot? Was it only natural for the powerful to rob you? Then he would live the same way himself. ["We'll become kings."] A band of thieves who would steal a throne. The beginning of the Black Blade Bandits. Lycanos had been the leader's sworn brother and the embodiment of their might. As he died, he thought,

'Was this the world we wanted, Brother?' They had been corrupted so quickly. They had gained strength, Krona, and power. Steal the throne and usher in a new world. Their vow to ensure no one suffered as they had was gone before they knew it, vanishing like melting snow. Through the falling snow, Lycanos saw a shining door. It opened, and out came his sister, his brothers, and his parents, who had died when he was young. Unable to pay their taxes, they had lost his sister to the lord, who took her in lieu of payment, raped her, and killed her. His parents had been killed by robbers for having nothing. They all welcomed him, blood streaming from their eyes and noses. "You're too late, son." "Go to hell." Lycanos's eye closed. Directly beneath his family, he saw where he was bound. A dark crimson river flowed below the shining door. He surrendered himself to the river that led to hell. Beyond the door, the surging river of blood welcomed him.