Chapter 57: Ant (2)

The entrance to the tunnel collapsed, and flames erupted. Despite the lack of ordinary fuel, the magical fire burned the ground and incinerated the orcs.

The orc squad that had burst forth was now isolated in the middle of the camp.

“Akuakkai! Ko Ometun!”

The orc bearing the banner screamed something. In that instant, all eyes fixated on Yuri, standing amidst them. It seemed they were determined to kill him, even if he had advanced alone into their formation.

“Have mercy, okay…?”

His plea fell on deaf ears.

The orcs lunged immediately, even those on the outer line turned around.

The knights of Briol, noticing the chaos, shouted:

“Protect the prince!”

But the banner-bearing orc had forgotten one key detail: until now, magic had been continuously nullified. In a battlefield where magic remained possible, anything could happen.

The fire spreading from the destroyed tunnel surged across the ground, encircling Yuri. Some orcs got trapped within the flames with him—but it wasn’t a major problem. Yuri stabbed them and threw them out of the fire’s ring. The orcs writhed in agony.

“Whew, still alive.”

That was the power of a high-level mage. Though normally a dispeller, when the situation demanded it, he became reliable.

Protected by the flames, Yuri waited as the allied army swept up the remaining orcs.

Suddenly, a burst of wind rose. Yuri turned to face it.

The banner-carrying orc had leaped through the wall of fire.

“Akuakkai.”

The orc uttered Yuri’s moniker and flung its banner into the flames—it burned instantly.

“Okumma Kurutu Akamaiku.”

He didn’t know the meaning, but it sounded like, “You’re dead to me.”

“Okudoku.”

Yuri brandished Guilty and spat back one of the orc curses he’d learned from Cory.

The orc grinned, showing its tusks, and expertly wielded its halberd. It was unusually calm for an orc—this was the first time one hadn’t become enraged by “okudoku.”

“Now that I think about it, what does it mean?”

Yuri mumbled to himself, promising to ask Cory later. He watched the orc’s weapon: a halberd combining spear and axe—difficult to handle. If it wielded it in battle, it must be skilled.

Yuri activated his manasword, lightened his frame, and enveloped Guilty with mana. A faint energy glowed along the blade.

During the campaign, Yuri had been growing stronger. Who’d have believed an eighteen-year-old could reach this level?

“Come on.”

Seeing Yuri’s sword, the orc grinned again.

Its muscles bulged. Yuri sensed mana coursing through it. An orc using mana meant its physical power was amplified beyond its already formidable race.

“Kuaaah!”

With a roar, the orc charged. As they clashed, it swung the halberd straight down, the force overwhelming.

Yuri blocked with Guilty, deflecting the blow. The orc stumbled, but quickly recovered.

“Khuhuhu…”

Its laughter was oddly human. Yuri glanced around: they were trapped within the fire, space tight. A disadvantage against brute force.

He couldn’t ask for the fire taken away—it was necessary to contain the enemy.

“In situations like this…”

Blade raised, eyes narrowed. Yuri tuned his senses to the ancient hunter’s memories he’d absorbed in the ruins.

The battle shifted direction. He understood his path forward.

“Fuu…”

He moved in toward the orc.

The orc pulled back the halberd—Yuri saw its muscles tense. He stepped closer.

As the orc began to swing, before the strike could gain power, Yuri struck first.

Perfectly timed, the orc was pushed backward.

“Kuaaah!”

It swung again, but Yuri struck again preemptively.

The exchange repeated the orc stumbled and fell back many steps.

The duel looked easy—yet it required boldness, instinctive reflexes, and razor vision to face such raw power.

Yuri taunted.

“Is that all you got? Pff, okudoku, bastard.”

The orc scowled—pride in its strength.

They stared again. Yuri analyzed the rage in its pupils, anticipating its next move.

The orc flexed its knees, spinning to bring its full force. Its intent was clear: crush Yuri’s head.

The orc pulled back the halberd and brought it down hard. Yuri dodged to the side. The orc lunged to grab his neck.

Yuri countered with Guilty, stabbing its abdomen. The blade pierced flesh.

He thought he’d won.

But the orc didn’t flinch. Its free hand lashed out. Yuri tried to block—the massive hand gripped both his neck and forearm.

“Kh…!”

The grip was brutal.

The orc shook him. Guilty dislodged. His larger frame forced Yuri into a weaker stance.

He began losing breath. Yuri gritted his teeth, fighting to stay conscious.

He slashed the orc’s wrist repeatedly—but while suspended, he couldn’t gather enough force. The orc’s thick, mana-hardened skin resisted.

“Kh….”

Then Yuri recalled the hunter’s technique: “If you can’t cut, then saw.”

He pressed Guilty’s blade against the orc’s wrist and sawed it using the arm twisted around his neck.

At first nothing—but mana in the blade slowly tore into flesh.

The orc’s eyes drained of color.

“Kuaaaaah!”

It didn’t relinquish its grip; instead it squeezed harder around Yuri’s neck. Yuri clenched his jaw and continued sawing.

Their grim struggle prolonged.

“Kuaaaah…!”

Ultimately, Yuri prevailed.

The orc roared in fury, flinging Yuri aside. It grabbed its wounded arm, attempting to free it from the sword.

But Yuri held fast.

When the orc pulled away, Yuri held the blade steady, landed, and raised it above his head.

Then he plunged it down again precisely on the spot he’d sawed.

Guilty embedded surgically in the same location. The orc’s wrist flew off.

“Kuaaaargh!”

It collapsed backward, clutching its bleeding stump. Yuri raised the severed hand—its fingers entangled with his own.

“Coming from an orc’s hand… how disgusting.”

Still, that gave him greater hold. Yuri gave a cynical smile and slapped the orc’s face with the severed hand.

The orc screamed uncontrollably, spitting curses:

“Akuakkai! Akumetu! Yukkakama…!”

Guilty pierced between its eyebrows.

The orc—bereft of will—did not dodge. Its pupils fluttered once, then dimmed.

“Okudoku.”

Yuri pulled his sword from the orc’s lifeless body.

“Phew…”

But he had also been injured. Large bruises covered his neck and the arm the orc had grabbed, making it difficult to move.

Kneeling on one knee, he looked through the flames to assess the situation outside.

“What…?”

But things hadn’t improved. The place was still crawling with orcs.

Suddenly, the wall of fire vanished.

“Huh?”

As if it had all been an illusion, the barrier faded, leaving Yuri once again exposed to the horde.

Dozens of eyes turned to him at once. A shiver ran down his spine.

“Damn it…”

Then he understood—it wasn’t that Hernando had ended the spell.

Another shaman had appeared.

Which meant the tunnel wasn’t the only one. Orcs continued to pour in like a plague of ants from beneath the Allied camp.

Yuri raised Guilty and scanned his surroundings. A mix of orcs and enemy soldiers approached.

He couldn’t break through easily.

Seeing his agility, the orcs formed layered encirclements. Even if he broke one line, another would close in immediately.

“Fuu…”

Yuri exhaled deeply.

Charging in to kill the shaman had been a mistake. The tunnels weren’t just one.

He had underestimated the orcs.

He’d grown arrogant, believing his return to the past and achievements guaranteed safety.

Just as the orc he’d just slain had died from overconfidence, so too had Yuri become complacent.

He would pay the price. Gritting his lips, he stared at the orcs.

He had already died once.

Now, he knew there were things worse than death.

“I, Yuri Briol… even if I die today, I will not die in disgrace.”

He muttered.

As he invoked the Soul and Heart Slash, his mana flared more fiercely than ever.

And he shouted.

“Come, you damned insects! For Briol!”

Then someone answered.

“Good resolve.”

Yuri’s eyes widened.

“‘Do your part and leave the rest to fate. If you abandon yourself to death, you’ll live; if you only wish to live, you’ll die.’”

“Oooh…”

Yuri felt the solemn tension in his chest collapse in an instant.

Moyongchan descended from the sky, hands behind his back, walking as if floating—like a celestial sage.

Yuri muttered,

“I knew I wouldn’t die so easily.”

The hostility in his eyes faded, his lips relaxed, and he leaned on one leg. The usual, carefree Yuri Briol had returned.

“Thank goodness you’re here, hehehe…”

“Damn brat…”

Moyongchan frowned, displeased with the sudden shift.

“You lose your composure in a second. Hopeless… tch.”

“Haha. I knew my master would come save me.”

“There it goes again.”

“What do you mean? Let’s wipe out this evil together, Master! Let’s destroy these abominations! Ha ha ha!”

“Tch, tch…”

Moyongchan walked gracefully to Yuri’s side, clicking his tongue.

Yuri grinned, unconcerned. He wasn’t alone.

And this wasn’t just anyone—it was Moyongchan.

“Half.”

Moyongchan said.

“I’ll only help with half. Understood?”

“Yes, of course.”

Back to back, the two of them faced the oncoming orcs.

Facing dozens at once wasn’t easy. But Yuri had inherited the memories of the ancient hunter.

That hunter had drawn orcs with a red gem and annihilated them instantly.

Recalling that image, Yuri activated his manasword. He felt the familiar touch return to his palm.

The Cut of the soul and the heart wasn’t just a mana technique—it was a sword style.

That meant it had no fixed form, giving it immense versatility.

Yuri layered the ancient hunter’s movements onto his technique. He felt his swordsmanship shift completely.

More agile.

More cunning.

It guided him with a new kind of fluidity.

“Hooh…”

Moyongchan tilted his head as he watched Yuri.

He knew that sword of mana was unique, but to change styles mid-battle so seamlessly?

It was like watching someone else. He was skillful, calculating.

Strange.

There was a presence in his movements—like someone who had already perfected his path.

Something had happened. Otherwise, he couldn’t have grown this much.

“Hmmm…”

Moyongchan cleared his throat and looked away.

His student had returned with a mysterious new style. And worse, it was effective.

He didn’t like it.

“Today I’ll show you with my own hands the blade of the Azure Star Sword.”

Moyongchan unsheathed his blade and unleashed his inner energy. The pure energy of the Clear Heart Like the Void coursed through him.

A bluish aura wrapped around his plain sword.

“Watch closely, idiot!”

He swept his sword in a wide arc.

Azure Cloud and Crimson Mist Sword Technique.

Half-Moon Crescent Form.

From Moyongchan’s position, a light like a sunset radiated outward.

And within that light—it rained blood.