As Aslan gripped the sword, the tiger spun on its feet and simultaneously vanished completely from sight.
An acceleration akin to teleportation.
In an instant, reaching top speed and disappearing as it approached, this trick was accompanied by an innate stealth ability.
Approaching without a sound. Now, closing in.
Tiyalmisof swung her hand not too late, crafting magic with mana-free hand signs alone.
Rock.
Kwaang!
The rock surged upward with a roar.
The boulders soared to a scale that even a first-rate wizard could hardly replicate easily, large enough to block any path.
With this, she would halt the approach and pour down magic.
However, the tiger in mid-air swiftly changed its trajectory faster than the thought itself.
The dark blue trajectory curved, taking position behind her back.
Tiyalmisof, recalling some forgotten memory, marveled at the unseen beast, and as she marveled, the tiger lunged forward upon landing.
Above it, Aslan swung his sword.
The blazing white sword of the deity.
At the moment of contact, nothing could withstand its mighty artifact.
Kaahaaang!
Though she raised her arm coated in white steel to block, her torso was struck. Simultaneously, the front paw of the spirit creature shot forth.
Kwajik!
“Kh…!”
Tiyalmisof exclaimed as she was hurled backward.
As her metallic body tumbled and rolled on the ground, the spirit creature charged again.
“Changing direction freely, huh. This is astonishing! Is it your natural physique?”
Even as death approached, Tiyalmisof shouted in delight and fired a fireball.
Magic casting so swift that it took no time to form and launch from her fingertips.
The space seemed to warp along the trajectory of the projectile, yet the airborne spirit creature twisted its body mid-air to evade the attack aimed at it.
Kwaahaa, Kooouung!
The thunderous explosion of the fireball. The caught-up spirits were consumed by flames, but neither Aslan nor Tiyalmisof cared.
Instead, five lightning bolts sprang effortlessly from her fingertips as if it were nothing.
The radiant lightning streaking through the air was far too fast to dodge; you’d be struck the moment you realized it.
Thus, it was Aslan’s duty to block. Swinging purity, he split the lightning apart.
Kwajijijik!
The splitting lightning emitted a tearing sound as it dispersed, and while Aslan turned his back to it, the dark blue trajectory grazed past Tiyalmisof.
Kwaddeok! Torn off, Tiyalmisof’s arm shattered into pieces within the spirit creature’s mouth.
Even so, she chuckled mechanically and scattered more magic.
Kwaaaaaah!
A wave of flames. Leveraging the nature of spreading flames, the heated air rippled, burning everything around.
Yet, even through the soaring flames, both the spirit creature and Aslan passed through, causing Tiyalmisof to cheerfully exclaim,
“The spirit and you seem to share a common trait. Fascinating. How far—”
Interrupted mid-sentence by a slicing blade.
“Noisy.”
The shape of a broad-bladed curved sword, known as Abyssal Sword, struck her body, sending Tiyalmisof flying backward until she crashed onto the ground.
Among the broken and scattered stone slabs,
At the center, Aslan pulled and drove the reins controlling the spirit creature.
Kwaddaddadddeok!
The entangled bodies of the spirit creatures were flung about, and white light illuminated the dark sanctuary interior.
Stretching long, the trajectory ended with the white light adorning the darkness like the eyes of a fierce beast, rushing forward.
At the end, the white light carved Tiyalmisof into spider-web-like patterns.
Kagagagagagaak!
It came head-on. Already cut.
Tiyalmisof prepared her magic. Cutting through her from behind, Aslan passed by. A fireball soared into the sky.
Back again. This time, attempting to block with an outstretched hand, her wrist was severed, and her side ripped open.
Attempting recovery using Restoration, Transformation, and Mutation schools simultaneously, but before they could take effect, both her shins were slashed, lowering her stance.
Repeatedly, persistently, Tiyalmisof was torn apart by Aslan’s blade.
Amidst it all, Tiyalmisof laughed in ecstasy.
Scattered amidst flying metal fragments and mana, Tiyalmisof deeply inspired by the biting blade strikes and combat style.
He was neither a warrior nor a knight.
Thus, what excited him was merely pure inspiration and ideas.
“Brilliant ideas. It’s exhilarating!”
He grinned widely, letting loose a maniacal laugh. At the end of that laughter, he caught the incoming purity.
Kaddeok!
Coating the captured knuckles in white steel, he blocked the attack while transforming his lower body.
His lower body, filled with liquid-like flexible metal, instantly transformed into a bestial form.
Placing cores in both upper and lower halves, he channeled magic through these cores.
Acceleration upon acceleration.
With dual-layered acceleration coursing through his entire body, Aslan converted the Abyssal Sword in his left hand into a war hammer.
Chheerrr!
Thrusting and pushing away. Pushing away while creating distance, then moving at high speed once again.
This time, cutting through without giving any opportunity.
Aslan thought as he returned the Abyssal Sword detached from the reins to its original form.
“To give me more inspiration.”
“Too noisy.”
Simultaneously accelerating, Tiyalmisof smiled alongside Aslan.
As Aslan’s figure warped, leaving a trail of white light, Tiyalmisof pursued that trail, leaving behind a unique blue trajectory of mana.
Burning mana circuits. Turbine-like sounds emanated as Tiyalmisof moved.
At the end, the blue and white beams collided.
Chaeaeaeeng!
The clang of metal against metal.
Caught up in that clang, the corpses of spirit creatures were shredded, but the beams did not stop, chasing each other.
Within those beams, Aslan moved.
Striking with purity, deflecting incoming attacks with the flat of the blade, thrusting, and upon missing after thrusting, swinging the blade back.
Below, the spirit creature slashed with its forepaws, caught the blade with its jaws, and twisted its body to evade the attack.
Accelerating by kicking off the ceiling, plunging down, or leaping up by kicking pillars on the ground for another attack.
Facing them, Tiyalmisof mimicked such strategies and appearances.
“Excellent, excellent! The core of that attack power and rapid counterattack seems to revolve around rotation, doesn’t it? You must have considered dealing with multiple enemies simultaneously.”
He swung his arm shaped like a blade to parry the attack.
The blade made of white steel, characteristic of white steel, blocked the attack, and the sparks flowing from it gleamed brightly.
From the other hand, magic poured out continuously.
Fireballs, rock projectiles, lightning arrows, flame arrows, ignition, ice projectiles, wind blades, and more.
From the most common spells to the rare ones, they spewed endlessly from his hands, targeting the spirit creature and Aslan.
Amidst flying flames, shattered rocks, swirling ice, and howling winds,
Aslan and the spirit creature accelerated by kicking off the ground, while Tiyalmisof propelled himself by using the four legs of a beast to kick off the ceiling and columns.
After repeated accelerations, the two colliding beams were equal.
Chheereeereng!
Even amidst the thunderous roar and shockwave of such an equal collision, Tiyalmisof continued to speak.
“Your sword strikes are unique. It’s almost as if adapting anew. Could it be due to the cutting force embedded in that sword? I see overt signs of relaxation!”
Though Aslan frowned at his shouted words, he soon understood.
That wasn’t something meant for him to hear.
“Attempting a countermeasure would require focusing on things that cannot be rung or substances that aren’t material.”
Initially, he thought it was psychological warfare or interference, but it wasn’t even that.
Simply, Tiyalmisof was neither a warrior nor a knight.
Tiyalmisof was a scientist.
One who risked life and limb for the exploration and analysis of phenomena.
Through the maniacal laughter Tiyalmisof let out, Aslan understood.
Tiyalmisof was merely talking incessantly, unable to contain the overflowing inspiration.
That overflowing inspiration enabled Tiyalmisof to fight Aslan on equal terms.
Kaang, Kagagagak, Kang!
Swinging purity finally clashed with something Aslan couldn’t immediately discern—a violet beam-like entity.
The spot where it was deflected saw a surge of magic, and navigating through the gaps, Tiyalmisof retreated like an ebbing tide.
Amidst the interplay of light beams resembling tidal phenomena, the spirit creature could only watch helplessly.
Once again, the beams collided.
Raising his arm broadly, purity clashed with Tiyalmisof’s violet blade.
*
Kuuuung…!
Even from afar, the thunderous roar and explosive flash had no effect on Tiamat as he ran ahead.
To him, who lacked eyes, the flash held no meaning, and with no heightened auditory senses, the roar was irrelevant.
Instead, Tiamat focused on direct malice and vibrations.
While running, when Tiamat threw his body forward, moments ago where Tiamat stood, a rock flew and embedded itself.
Kwaahaaaang!
Pressure strong enough to make one’s whole body ache just from brushing past.
Without seeing the rock, Tiamat felt it and perceived everything around him in detail.
Even while running, Tiamat knew everything about his surroundings.
Their movements, changes, temperatures, and beyond that, vibrations.
Tiamat’s highly developed sensory organs allowed him to feel even the bugs thriving in the damp, dark corners of this sanctuary, which he favored.
From the corner piled with those insects’ carcasses, the stench rising from there to the cold wind existing beyond.
He could feel everything.
Even amidst the cold wind, the sanctuary felt warm.
The warmth generated by divine power meeting divine power. Despite being separated from that warmth, tangible objects like the stone floor, pillars, walls, and ceilings existed clearly.
Tiamat knew everything around him, including himself.
Including Harrod approaching from beyond.
Reflexively turning his body, Tiamat aimed his bow.
Gigik, the bowstring hummed as it was drawn. The arrow placed upon it didn’t tremble.
What trembled were Tiamat’s hands.
Beyond the arrow aimed, at the point where the arrow pointed, Harrod stood.
All that remained was the head, pitiful younger brother.
Tiamat couldn’t release the string. Instead, putting away the arrow, he hurled himself toward the spot where Harrod had thrown several rocks.
Kwaahaaaang!
Another rock Harrod threw pounded the place where Tiamat had been.
The vibrations scattering caused countless arrows embedded in the ground to tremble finely.
Those arrows were Tiamat’s failures.
Marks of severing ties for duty yet ultimately failing.
Arrows shot with trembling hands that missed their mark.
Tiamat felt these arrows as he leaned his back against the rock, while beyond him, Harrod approached step by step, making a thudding sound.
One might think Harrod was strong and thus difficult to handle, but that wasn’t true.
The difficulty was simple.
There wasn’t an extreme difference in power, so it was a psychological issue.
If Tiamat shot properly, it could end in one or two shots.
No matter how great Harrod’s mana was, without a structure to maximize it, it wouldn’t become conspicuously powerful.
Instead, Harrod’s body was filled with formidable defensive capabilities, destructive power, and an enormous size.
Though bloated, it became adept at breaking terrain features, blocking paths, and obstructing attempts to bypass.
Extremely specialized in ensnaring ankles.
And because of this, Tiamat couldn’t surpass it.
Because he couldn’t overcome his emotions, he couldn’t shoot his own younger brother.
Shooting itself was exhausting.
Penetrating firepower, accuracy.
There had been opportunities numerous times.
But he couldn’t shoot.
Still, this couldn’t last forever.
Holding the bow with trembling hands, Tiamat emerged from cover.
!
Harrod rushed forward with a roar.
A wretched younger brother who no longer bore traces of humanity.
When Harrod smashed the cover with a fist much larger than his own head, amid the flying stone shards, Tiamat aimed his bow.
Retreating while aiming.
Even without stabilizing his posture, Tiamat hit every shot.
If it went awry or missed, it was intentional.
Aiming the bow, drawing the string, placing the arrow, and aiming the arrow at the head.
That head was a place Tiamat absolutely couldn’t shoot.
The only trace of Harrod left, a place Tiamat couldn’t aim at.
His hands trembled, his heart raced, repeatedly crouching and jumping again.
It felt like his heart would burst out with vomiting.
Therefore, when he released the string, the aim was intentionally skewed.
Kwagaang!
The arrow that flew, after grazing the gauntlet, bounced off.
Then he retreated. Repeating the cycle many times, Harrod raised his fist high again and struck down where Tiamat had been just moments ago.
Kwaahaaaaaang!
With flying stone fragments, booms, and dust scattering, Tiamat rolled on the ground.
The timing was late.
Pathetically, he missed again.
He knew he had to do it, but it wasn’t easy.
He had to kill his younger brother again.
This time, he had to do it with his own hands.
It was extremely painful, so Tiamat couldn’t shoot.
Yet, the awareness that he had to do it persisted.
With a conflicted heart, raising the bow lacked sufficient agility.
Movement akin to a novice rather than a veteran. Harrod closed in and rammed with his shoulder.
“Harrod…!”
Tiamat reflexively cried out. His brother didn’t respond, just charging in.
Kwaang!
“…”
Losing the bow, he was hurled backward. Towards the tumbling Tiamat, Harrod charged again.
Feeling the charging form, paradoxically, Tiamat recalled a distant past through the lost vision.
Teaching traditional martial arts of wrestling to Harrod, newly joined to the warrior corps.
Even then, Harrod didn’t excel, and somehow matched ‘training’ with Tiamat.
There too, Harrod approached rapidly. Just like now.
Though the fists had grown grotesque, the arms overly inflated and heavy.
Tiamat saw habits from those days in Harrod.
It hurt.
Crying out wildly, rushing in was for that reason.
The calmness required to accurately shoot the bow disappeared long ago.
Chheereeng!
The reflexively launched punch. Though trained, it wasn’t at a master level, certainly not at a veteran’s.
An ordinary punch, but the power from Strength 11 was no trivial matter.
Naturally, Harrod being struck by that punch recoiled.
Unable to shoot, Harrod charged in and engaged in fisticuffs.
What followed was a battle between memories and reality.
Tiamat saw through his unseen eyes the traditional martial arts he taught while competing.
Following those motions, he threw punches.
Gradually, within Harrod’s movements, he recognized somewhat familiar trajectories.
Pressing his tail into the ground, he dove in and threw punches.
Kwaang!
The punched fist hurt, the bones tingled.
The following punch from Harrod was too fast for Tiamat to dodge.
Ultimately, it struck his body.
“Kh….”
Bones broke, and he was sent flying. Rolling on the ground, despite the excruciating pain, Tiamat rose again, raising his fists.
Thus began the simple repetitive task of pounding each other’s bodies over and over.
The result waiting at the end was clear.
Tiamat’s death.
Failing to liberate his brother, dying instead.
Ignoring fractures due to surging adrenaline, Tiamat still realized it.
He was going to die like this.
Then, his hand moved reflexively.
What he drew out was a familiar hatchet.
The hatchet Harrod gave him as a parting gift when Tiamat left Belus Alphen.
The trustworthy hatchet that had served as a self-defense and emergency weapon many times.
Kaang!
That hatchet, swung with Strength 11, embedded itself in Harrod’s mechanical arm.
“A….”
The punch Harrod was about to deliver stopped.
The cause was unknown.
Whether a subtle part of the mechanical arm was severed,
Or if the hatchet awakened some memory in Harrod,
Or if some principle unknown to Tiamat was at play.
Completely unclear.
But Tiamat moved following the remembered trajectory.
Always winning against Harrod with a throw.
“Haaarooooddddd!”
Dashing towards Harrod, Tiamat embraced the enlarged waist of Harrod and exerted force with his arms.
Throwing as per the memory, but Tiamat had no reason to do so.
What he had to do was simple.
“Graaaahhhhhh!”
Shouting with all his might, he exerted force with his arms.
Splitting the waist.
Kwaddaddadddeok!
Under the scaly arm, the mechanical spine collapsed, crude imitation machinery crumbled altogether, and the waist split.
Kwadeok! Even as the connection with the already lost lower half became frayed, he continued to break it with all his strength.
With the fractured waist, the massive body collapsed.
Kuung, with the echoing sound, Harrod fell, and Tiamat collapsed on the ground, having used all his strength.
Only labored breathing flowed out.
In the fallen position, struggling Tiamat heard a strange mechanical sound cutting through the silence.
“Brother, Lord.”
A strange yet somehow familiar mechanical sound.
“Thankyou, son.”
With those words, the machine that was Harrod cooled and stopped.
For a long while, Tiamat reflected on that mechanical sound, gritting his teeth.
“I’m sorry.”
There was no response.
[!– Slider main container –]
