Chapter 67
It’s common to describe an extremely pleasant mood as “feeling like you’re flying through the sky.”
Or walking on clouds, for that matter.
To creatures incapable of flight, the sky has always been an object of longing, a paradise akin to a mysterious and unattainable wonderland.
I, too, thought the sky was such a wonderful place…
…until now.
“Hey, you crazy bastard!”
The feeling of flying through the sky.
And not just flying, but doing so while riding on the back of a massive and beautiful deer — it was nothing short of pure misery.
“Ho! It seems the ‘Master of Spirits’ fears the sky more than the transcendent beings before him, eh?”
“Put me down, put me down! You crazy…!”
“What in the world is that?”
At that moment, not too far away, a marauder with pitch-black skin approached us, flapping his wings. Although I didn’t have the presence of mind to fully observe him as I was preoccupied with the chaos, his wings were larger than those of ordinary marauders, and his elongated nails made him seem unlike any common marauder.
“Huh?”
Daljin was slow to notice the approaching marauder, as he was too busy tormenting me from behind.
“…An incomprehensible situation.”
The marauder muttered under his breath as he gathered a dark light on his fingertips. It seemed he was the type who would instinctively cast spells first when faced with things he didn’t understand.
What an easygoing life this marauder leads.
“Humph, don’t ruin the mood by stinking.”
Bang!
A bolt of lightning pierced through the thick black clouds, penetrating the marauder’s body. Immediately, a thunderous sound reverberated through the air.
…In the blink of an eye, the marauder’s body vanished, leaving not even a trace of ash; it was as if he had never existed in the first place.
“…”
The battlefield was enveloped in silence the moment the thunder had echoed.
It felt like the eyes of everyone beneath us were naturally drawn to Daljin and myself.
“Ho! How does that feel? Isn’t that quite impressive for a soldier?!”
He has drawn attention.
Arthur surely didn’t expect me to draw this much attention when he left his instructions.
Exceeding the expectations of our commander in terms of attention-grabbing…
“Haha, shit.”
It’s ridiculous.
“Hey, more are coming over there. The smell is strong enough to burn my nose.”
That’s when red light began to gather at a small dot visible on the ground. It seems one of the higher-ranked marauders had ordered an attack directed at me.
“Hey, this is okay…!”
Whoosh!
Before I could even finish my sentence, Daljin twisted his body in mid-air, nearly causing me to fall off this cursed stag.
This kid acts like he defies the laws of physics, leading him to think that I, riding on him, can also defy them.
Consider inertia for once; I’m really about to fall.
A red beam whistled past my ear.
A hole opened in the clouds above, revealing a faint glimmer of sunlight.
“Black magic smells bad, and I dislike it.”
The spirit of thunder, illuminated by the sunlight and growing brighter, cast a frosty gaze toward the marauders who had blindly attacked him.
“Don’t ruin the mood.”
Lightning currents immediately surged down from the hole in the clouds, striking the ground. Countless, immeasurable pillars of light turned the area below into a massive wasteland.
Though not utilizing his full power, lacking both manners and having a twisted personality, Daljin was still the spirit of thunder.
It was effortless for him to reduce such mid-to-lower-tier marauders to ashes.
“…Hey, hey! On the right, there’s an archer detachment!”
While hurriedly scanning the ground for signs of further attacks, my gaze fell on a group of mutants clad in battered armor, each holding a massive longbow.
Weapon-wielding mutants are extremely rare. If a mutant is wielding a weapon, it means it was personally fashioned by the Grand Marshal, and the mutants created by the Grand Marshal are, at the very least, level 60 monsters.
They were a massive threat incomparable to the mid-to-lower-tier marauders from earlier.
“Approaching! Move it, will you? You might not care, but I’ll die if I get hit by that!”
There were at least 40 to 50 archer mutants. Accurately striking an exposed, flying target like us was no issue for these monsters easily surpassing level 60.
I couldn’t help but feel the icy chill running down my spine. I could see death racing towards me from afar—poisonous arrowtips cutting through the mist in a straight line to target my neck.
A broad curtain of arrows rose from below. My spine, already tingling with cold, now felt a painful ache creeping in.
“Hm.”
Bang!
In the next moment, a bolt of electricity erupted from Daljin’s body, attaching to one of the arrows, which transformed into a massive flame, spreading in all directions. The arrows hurtling towards me disintegrated into ash without leaving a trace.
The acrid smell of burning filled my nose.
Daljin didn’t even spare a glance at the arrows coming our way.
“This is at least something I can handle.”
The next moment, another bolt of lightning surged again through the hole in the clouds, striking the ground. Even the level-60 archer battalion was reduced to soot before the massive pillars of light summoned by Daljin.
… I was somewhat embarrassed for doubting his inability to perform properly outside the Achilipthus Forest, given how impressive he seemed now.
‘Spirit transcends the ordinary…’
“Ho, but the stink is still the same. The underlings of demons all wield nauseating magic. I simply cannot tolerate them!”
Daljin began moving more actively across the battlefield, contorting his face as if irritated. He mercilessly wiped out a group of marauders lying in ambush in the desolate lands and transformed a patchwork golem made from a few large orcs into nothing more than charred meat.
Daljin repeated the ascent and descent, reaching heights where the clouds brushed his feet, then dropping low near the ground.
The alternating smell of burning carcasses and the dampness of the dark clouds made my vision blur as if oxygen wasn’t reaching my brain properly.
“Stay awake, don’t miss this entertaining scene!”
This kid wasn’t content with just traversing the desolate area; he tossed a massive sphere of lightning into the heart of the enemy’s ranks.
Needless to say, the marauders weren’t just going to sit and watch this spectacle…
The sky quickly became filled with magic intended to intercept us.
The sun, which had been trying to peek through the broken clouds, continued to shine on us.
“Pathetic displays, are you so desperate to survive?!”
…I also no longer know how to deal with this situation.
As long as this guy doesn’t confuse his allies with the enemy, it should be fine, right?
Yeah, that’s it.
At the very least, his lightning hasn’t struck the allies, so let’s be satisfied with that.
*
In the dirtiest and darkest of caves in Valleland.
On a throne made of blood and bones, a marauder with pitch-black skin, large wings, and elongated claws sat with glowing red eyes.
The dozens of tons of flesh used to create this throne were tightly intertwined. Yellowish liquid oozed out from the narrow crevices, leaving its creator unsure whether to call it blood or poison.
“Hmm…”
The marauder seated on the throne was none other than Maltiel, one of the great marshals, the highest-ranking officers of the demon king’s army.
His mood had deteriorated significantly as an idea for a new mutant design popped into his head, only to be interrupted by the sudden commotion outside.
“Samael, you’ve returned.”
“…I have returned.”
The Samael standing before Maltiel, with an expression usually difficult to see, bore an unmistakable trace of awkwardness.
“An unusual look, indeed. What did you see outside? Did Sword Saints arrive? If so, report quickly. We must retreat accordingly.”
“…Do you remember a boy named Bin?”
“Obviously, I do. In ten years, he could easily grow into a monstrous troublemaker on the level of a Sword Saint.”
“That monster…”
Samael paused to take a breath. He could barely convince himself of the reality of what he had seen.
“…is riding the spirit of thunder as he dominates the battlefield.”
“…”
“…”
Silence.
Heavy and uncomfortable silence enveloped the two marauders.
“What?”
Unable to believe the report, Maltiel’s voice carried a note of doubt. Almost immediately, he connected his spirit to one of the mutants that he had created.
Although the mutant’s field of vision was impaired by what seemed to be an eye injury, it was no time to be concerned with such details.
The mutant raised its head high into the sky upon receiving Maltiel’s commands, revealing Bin and Daljin hovering above.
The spirit of thunder was unleashing pillars of light onto the battlefield like a wrathful god. The sound of thunder was relentless, and the world alternated between shades of gray and brilliant white.
Marauders and mutants attempted to intercept with arrows and magic, but these were instantly turned into ash by the powerful currents surrounding the spirit.
Surrounded by strong currents, the spirit of thunder moved across the battlefield effortlessly and gracefully, as if it were home.
Continuous lightning bolts were striking the ground below and the clouds above were growing darker.
“Hey, slow down! I’m about to fall!”
“Ho, what will the Master of Spirits do if he can’t even endure this?”
Naturally enough, Bin was seated atop the spirit of thunder’s back.
It was incomprehensible.
No more than a month ago, he was merely a mage at the 7th to 8th tier level. Granted, taking into account his age and potential, it was certain that he would grow into a significant figure soon enough…
“…Is it true that he’s riding the back of a spirit? A mortal, no less?”
Of course, it was natural for Maltiel to have never witnessed such a spectacle in his lifetime.
Indeed, the scene unfolding on this battlefield now wasn’t something even fictional “legend” or “fairy tales” would describe.
Wasn’t the spirit of thunder already akin to a god among mages?
The events unfolding on this battlefield were… in essence no different from a mere marauder riding the back of a demon.
“From what I’ve investigated, some factions of the allied forces now refer to this boy Bin as the ‘Master of Spirits’…”
As Maltiel’s thoughts grew complex, Samael’s voice reached his ears.
“The Master of Spirits? Hmph.”
Maltiel unconsciously sighed, brushing his hands over his forehead.
“…We must immediately convene a meeting of the Grand Marshals.”
His growth rate exceeds the established standards. Even Maltiel, a grand marshal, could not fathom the extent of talent this young man possessed.
“If this boy reaches his prime, the war will be over.”
A Sword Saint.
That infuriating brat is a human capable of daring to oppose the Demon King and demons.
Bin.
This mad bastard could potentially grow into a cataclysm vast enough to overshadow the Demon King and demons themselves.
Dominating an elemental spirit three months after learning magic and claiming the Achilipthus Forest from a high-ranking marauder.
It was evident—immediate action was necessary.
“Maltiel, something suddenly happened? Why a meeting? Why is it so noisy outside?”
“What’s all this commotion outside? Maltiel, isn’t that mage identical in appearance to the one you mentioned before?”
“…I am endlessly perplexed.”
One by one, the voices of other Grand Marshals echoed into Maltiel’s thoughts.
Maltiel sighed once again, covering his horned face with his dark hands.
“A foe to exterminate has appeared. From now on, we mobilize all forces for full-scale aggression.”
“Aggression? Suddenly? Wouldn’t the current defensive strategy suffice to let them starve out slowly?”
“Who cares which of us becomes the ruler of Valleland?”
Maltiel slowly arose from the throne made of bone and flesh while speaking.
“Our top priority has just changed. That mage, Bin, must be eliminated.”
At Maltiel’s words, the Grand Marshals listening momentarily fell silent. Their minds busily calculated how his claim would impact the entire marauder race and direct the war accordingly.
“I admit the boy Bin has outstanding potential, but isn’t it a bit risky? Valleland will soon fall effortlessly into our hands. With a bit of luck, we might even kill Arthur and Gridia. Is it worth abandoning all these possibilities and risking our own deaths just to kill that brat?”
The silence was broken as one Grand Marshal questioned Maltiel. Doubt lingered in his voice, as his calculations were clearly incomplete.
“The risk is worth taking. Even if it means all of us dying, securing the life of this white-haired mage would be advantageous for the marauders.”
“Hmm…”
“Your tone is quite confident.”
It seemed Maltiel had finished his own calculations long ago. With unwavering confidence, he proclaimed that killing this young mage would yield nothing but benefits.
Upon hearing his voice, the Grand Marshals processed his claim carefully before finally responding cautiously.
“I trust Maltiel’s judgment. I have never seen, nor have any records ever mentioned, a mage who rides atop the spirit of an element while soaring through the battlefield. This is undoubtedly an extraordinary threat.”
“Not only that, but his growth potential is exceptional. Rumors from the humans claim it’s been just months since he received proper magical training.”
“Should we act now? It might be better to eliminate him immediately.”
“It’s definitely a trap. Surely Arthur and Gridia must be ready to guard us. We should avoid battles orchestrated by their plans at all costs.”
“…You guys always overthink things.”
“Then it’s agreed?”
Interrupting the ensuing minor arguments among the Grand Marshals, Maltiel severed his connection to them.
Focusing in the dim cave, his spirit connected with his subordinate high-ranking marauders.
“The Grand Marshal orders it. Push forward the frontline.”
Maltiel’s command was conveyed to the high-ranking marauders, who would then issue the same order to the regular marauders, who in turn would pass the command down to the low-ranking marauders and mutants.
Under an extremely simple and clear chain of command, the massive army of flesh and blood arose.
