Maltiel made his decision.
He ignored the chilling bones crawling out from beneath him and the orc charging towards him with its life on the line.
Maltiel had never seriously considered surviving this battlefield.
Three Grand Marshals were already dead. The tide of the war had decisively turned in favor of the allied forces, and even if he survived, he could not reverse the course of events.
Maltiel lacked the strength to reverse the flow of the mighty river.
But he could still build a dike to weaken the current a little.
“If Bin dies, sooner or later the situation will turn back to our favor.”
The river’s flow, so fierce now, would gradually lose power. When the Sword Saint eventually grew old and died, it would be the perfect opportunity to reclaim the lost advantage.
This was enough for Maltiel.
Fifty or a hundred years from now, it wasn’t necessary for him to be the one standing on the calm plains.
Maltiel gathered the remaining thirty percent of his mana from within his body, focusing it at his fingertips.
The crawling bones trying to redirect his hands exerted pressure on them. Simultaneously, as the delicate metacarpals strained to pull his fingers, skeleton warriors emerged from the void attempting to knock him down.
But the concentration of a Grand Marshal wasn’t so easily broken by such clumsy interference attempts.
Maltiel compressed all the mana within his body, releasing it explosively in front of his fingertips.
A pitch-black light engulfed the battlefield.
Maltiel frowned as he was swallowed by the dark light.
An inexplicable sense of unease deeply pierced his heart.
Bin should have been hit by his magic directly. No matter how fast the boy’s reaction speed had become, given the distance and posture, dodging his magic was close to impossible.
At the moment Maltiel’s magic struck home, everything should have ended.
If Bin had wanted to evade, he should have anticipated Maltiel’s timing and moved a step faster. However, the last thing Maltiel saw was the white-haired boy standing rock-solid in place, gathering lightning in his palm.
The white-haired boy seemed to have no intention of dodging; instead, he was focusing solely on converting the mana discharged from his hands into lightning.
…right. The boy appeared to have no intention of dodging.
But there was no trace of having abandoned everything to accept death. Determination radiated clearly from the boy’s eyes just before he prepared his magic.
“15 seconds.”
The boy’s quiet voice echoed.
A thin, transparent light-blue barrier enveloped the boy, who tightly held a storm within his hands.
“…I bet on the theory that he couldn’t deploy the barrier while using other magic.”
After the feeling of discomfort, a slight sense of helplessness spread over Maltiel’s body. He still couldn’t grasp the conditions of the shield that always protected the boy’s body at crucial moments.
“Seems the final piece of the puzzle is missing.”
Had Maltiel had ample time, he undoubtedly would have identified the weakness in ‘Elemental Blessing’ and taken it down.
However, as mentioned earlier, time was not on Maltiel’s side, and he certainly didn’t have the leisure to sit and analyze each of his opponent’s spells one by one.
“Let’s finish it.”
Maltiel hurriedly moved his body in an attempt to escape from the boy’s grip, but the bones swirling around him hindered his movements.
His body was temporarily fixed in place.
In this instant, the boy propelled himself with his thin legs and charged towards Maltiel.
It was the first time the boy had actively closed the distance to approach Maltiel.
It was a dangerous move but also an icy-cold judgment.
Maltiel had resurrected with the help of his adjutant, regaining his full potential. Even though he had exhausted all his mana, his formidable physical abilities remained intact.
The horn whistle of Rex could restrain Maltiel’s movement for just half a second at best.
It was far too short a time to prepare a powerful enough strike to incinerate the Grand Marshal in the prime of his powers.
“Elemental Awakening is fundamentally not an offensive magic. It’s more of a buff skill, awakening the mage and transforming all the mana in the body into lightning without any waste.”
To deliver a magical attack, two processes are required.
First, converting internal mana into elemental forces such as fire or lightning.
Second, crafting that force into a specific formation.
Elemental Awakening drastically shortens the first process and enhances the mage’s capacity. But crafting that overflowing power into sky-striking lightning or electrified arcs erupting from fingertips is an entirely different matter.
“With Maltiel tied down for just half a second, it’s not nearly long enough to prepare an attack strong enough to burn away his fully-primed body.”
Therefore, the boy ran forward, reaching out his hand towards Maltiel.
Simply to deliver this overwhelming force as effectively and quickly as possible.
This was the best and most logical move the boy could make, but…
“Here he comes.”
Even from Maltiel’s standpoint, it wasn’t a completely unmanageable situation.
The boy’s movements were fundamentally slow.
Although he had elevated his reaction speed far beyond biological limits through bio-electric currents, this applied only to reaction speed.
It was still taking an overly long time for the boy to run towards Maltiel and extend his hand.
Bin was fully aware of this fact. Expecting Maltiel to misread his painfully slow movements verges on both arrogance and low intelligence.
Despite this, the boy judged “it doesn’t matter.”
He believed that even if his movements were completely visible to Maltiel, they wouldn’t be able to dodge or retaliate bound as he was.
Pashh…!
Almost instantly, the boy’s fingertips made contact with Maltiel’s chest.
In an instant, an enormous amount of energy, far beyond what any living being could withstand, surged into the part of Maltiel’s chest that touched the boy.
The body of the Grand Marshal tore apart like a shriveled dry leaf.
Blood, bones, flesh, or skin.
Not a trace remained of the existence of life. There was only the faint sound of a powerless spark left behind.
“Not bad.”
As relief from the correctness of his judgment began to rise in the boy’s chest, an annoying and terrifying voice rang in his ear again.
“…Nucleus.”
The boy noticed from the corner of his vision a bead-sized core flying away.
Maltiel had readily acknowledged that his ‘body’, bound by the bones, could not avoid Bin’s attack.
Hence, he had twisted the muscles and bones of his body and forcefully pushed the buried nucleus out from within.
Abandoning his physical body and preserving the nucleus.
The primary reason Maltiel could make such a judgment was due to the boy’s excessively slow movements.
He had enough time to calmly assess the situation and devise a breakthrough.
He had even had the time to calculate the probability of success for the method he devised, and perhaps even the time to consider what actions to take afterward.
The boy was ultimately…
“You’re too slow.”
Always, that was the issue.
“Ultimately, you’re only a pathetic mortal. You can never be perfect. There are far too many structural flaws in the current life forms. It would be much better to wipe them all out and start anew.”
Bones and flesh began to regrow from the nucleus ejected outside of Maltiel’s body. A newly sprouted dark arm leisurely raised itself aiming for the boy’s neck.
“You’re right. We can never be perfect.”
The boy responded calmly as he watched Maltiel recreate bones and flesh from the dark core.
“I too, and those impressive-looking generals, are ultimately just small humans.”
Crack!
“Therefore, we live with the help of others.”
The sound of rusty, dulled steel grinding against the newly formed bones and flesh could be heard.
The reinforced arm pierced through the beginning of Maltiel’s regeneration, digging deep and pulling out the hidden nucleus.
“…What?”
Six was prominently marked on the prosthetic arm, its owner being Rex, the son of Belzark.
“Even the orcs say that all beings on the continent compensate for their deficiencies in each other while moving forward.”
Kraaack…
Soon after, the orcish prosthetic arm began to warp and twist. Screws fell out, and an unidentifiable long pipe rolled across the ground.
“Life depends on mutual reliance to survive. Something you’ll never understand.”
“…A pitiful excuse for concealing imperfections.”
Clang!
Rex seemed thoroughly fed up with Maltiel’s voice and shattered the black sphere within the prosthetic arm without so much as a word.
The fleshy masses attempting to regenerate around the nucleus until the very end quickly decayed, transforming into a pile of gray ashes before disappearing.
“Haa…phew…Haa…”
Rex stood with his broken legs unaided, though a large hole had appeared in his abdomen, blackened by poison.
Rex’s arm slowly disintegrated, heavy steel began to fall from his shoulder, and the prosthetic eventually rolled onto the ground.
The sound of steel tearing rang clearly in the boy’s ears. The orc could no longer lift his head and was staring at the floor.
“…Rest now.”
The boy glanced at Rex, whose abdomen was pierced and whose entire body was poisoned as he gasped for breath, and quietly muttered.
After receiving the general’s command, Rex finally relaxed, allowing himself a small smile as he let go of the strength in his legs.
On the 18th day since Rex Belzark arrived in Valleland.
The fourth Grand Marshal met his end.
