Ch.121The Black Mage and the Dark Knight (9)

How many moments of choice do we have, and how many moments where we cannot choose?

Llewellyn knows nothing of such complex matters. He never tried to understand them in the first place. His strength was in doing many things simply and straightforwardly.

As always, he played to his strengths.

He didn’t want to kill people who, despite being marked with spell formulas, were innocent. Nor did he want to stand by and watch them die.

He believed that standing by was no different from killing them himself.

Of course, it would be easier to abandon them. A single strike could take their lives before they even realized it, and afterward, he could live with the excuse that he couldn’t have stopped it.

But.

That wasn’t the life Llewellyn wanted.

Llewellyn didn’t want to live with regrets. He didn’t want to live regretting.

Every night when he lay in bed and closed his eyes, he wanted to fall asleep with anticipation, excitement, and joy for the next day.

Not lying awake with regret.

Not getting up because he couldn’t sleep and wandering aimlessly through life.

Once was enough for that. He never wanted to experience it again.

That was why Llewellyn stood here now. He clenched his fists, then opened them, forming his hands into dragon claws as he aimed at Valterok.

Where those claws pointed, Valterok…

“Hmm.”

…was silently watching Llewellyn while letting out a contemplative sound.

How long had it been since he was pushed back? How long since someone had blocked his intended actions?

Valterok, a being that could hardly be called human anymore, traced the sword mark carved into his chest and smiled.

As if smiling itself was something he hadn’t done in a very long time.

He lowered his sword.

“What is it you wish to do?”

One of the most dangerous beings in the world chose dialogue rather than counterattacking after being assaulted.

It was both a show of composure and a threat. Llewellyn spoke while remaining on high alert.

“I believe these people shouldn’t be left to die.”

“They are marked with spell formulas. Do you know that?”

When Llewellyn didn’t answer, Valterok drew out the lance from behind his back.

“They are fires that can ignite whenever the dark mage wishes. They will not stop until they burn themselves and everything around them.”

At those words, there was a flurry of movement behind Llewellyn, but he didn’t look back.

It wouldn’t have mattered even if he had. What Valterok wanted was his intention and will, not a cowardly ambush.

“They will burn their families, melt their friends, and reduce their dwellings and comfortable homes to ashes before the fire dies out. They can become that simply because a dark mage wishes it.”

“I know.”

Llewellyn had played Grim Darker many times.

He had tried every profession and played enough to rank 7th in world speedruns.

He had seen, examined, and verified many things.

Dark mages were part of that. Llewellyn knew what kind of spell formula it was the moment he saw it.

As Valterok said, it was “biological combustion.”

If activated en masse, it could destroy an entire city. The catalyst only required the dark mage’s magical power, as it used a human’s soul and life as fuel.

It was a vicious magic developed by the Combustion School under the Research Faction.

Killing them would be the right choice. But he wouldn’t kill them. In the game, he would have, but Llewellyn chose differently.

This was his choice, and it was him living in this world, not a game character.

He didn’t want to stain his life with regret.

“Then why do you stand in my way? Are you fine with everything you’ve built, the Pantheon, all burning to ashes?”

“No, I’m not fine with that.”

Valterok patiently gazed at the man, and Llewellyn, feeling that gaze through the helmet, spoke.

“But if I just stand by and watch, I’ll regret it.”

“Regret.”

“There must be countless ways to solve this. This path may be the simplest, but there are places you can’t reach by taking the easy way.”

Llewellyn’s eyes didn’t waver. Valterok looked at those eyes with satisfaction and, smiling, gripped his two weapons firmly.

“Excellent.”

But.

Valterok approached. An immense pressure that blocked even the breathing of magical beings emanated from him.

A powerful anti-magic force that made even Llewellyn, who couldn’t sense magic, feel like his breath was being choked off.

Valterok was, by his very existence, the natural enemy of mages and one of the pillars of this world.

Llewellyn gritted his teeth, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him.

“You must prove yourself.”

The moment he heard those words, Llewellyn charged forward.

The world seemed to tilt around him, and Llewellyn’s body, tilting even more, accelerated toward Valterok.

Valterok had already caught up with Llewellyn’s movement. A sword, raised in an instant, pointed at Llewellyn. Not to kill, but to subdue. But if it hit, it would mean defeat.

Llewellyn saw the sword falling toward him and tilted his body.

KAAAAAANG!

It wasn’t the sound of a blade striking the ground.

It was more like the sound of a massive piece of metal plummeting to the earth.

The anti-magic force and magic power flowing along the blade collided, creating a tremendous force that pushed away the dust around them. As a cloud of dust suddenly rose and dirtied the surroundings…

The civilians, both marked with spell formulas and unmarked, saw it.

A kick that tilted the body so much it was almost lying down, supporting itself with an arm, and then shooting upward.

A kick that touched Valterok’s chest.

In the corner of Llewellyn’s vision, a message flashed.

[Explosive Leap]

JEOOOOOONG!

A thunderous sound erupted. The massive body shot up, breaking through the ceiling of the ossuary.

Debris, wood, and fragments of the partially destroyed building scattered chaotically.

And a dormant pseudo-transcendent died, torn apart by the 250cm anti-magic projectile that was fired.

Valterok landed in the air, flipping his body along the path where a chunk had been torn away as if bitten off. He immediately saw the trajectory rising before the hole in the ossuary could be filled.

The man whose entire body was stained black. Valterok tilted the anti-magic platform he stood on.

The two figures collided in mid-air.

Once again, a resounding boom echoed, holy blood fragments scattered, and Llewellyn grimaced as he clutched his broken arm with holy blood.

And Valterok, who had swung his sword and stopped it in mid-air without any resistance, thrust it forward.

Llewellyn raised his knee with wide eyes, but it was too late.

Blood spurted. The longsword that pierced through his knee penetrated his abdomen and came out the back.

“You should have dodged.”

A brief remark. He swung the sword widely. Light and grand, as if shaking off the dust that clung to it.

Llewellyn’s world distorted greatly and accelerated. He flew. Llewellyn’s body flew without a chance to break his fall.

The remaining base of the clock tower collapsed, and Llewellyn coughed up blood from the intense pain running through his back.

“Sh-it!”

He hurriedly got up and stretched out both arms.

KWAAAANG!

A black comet engraved in the sky collided with Llewellyn.

With a grinding sound, Llewellyn’s feet dug trenches as he was pushed back, his body trembling above those feet.

A massive impact. Certainly powerful, but what concerned him more was the anti-magic force.

‘This crazy bastard…!’

He accelerates with anti-magic and interferes with it too. The slash from earlier was the same.

He stopped the sword by repelling magic with the anti-magic force emanating from the swung blade, and when thrusting, he nullified the defense with the repulsion between anti-magic and magic.

The current acceleration is the most basic operation. He simply performed the Black Knight’s secret art “Sky Walking” very quickly, turning it on and off skillfully.

Even with just that, it created an impact like a meteorite falling.

But that wasn’t the end. Llewellyn couldn’t raise his arm to block the fist aimed at his head.

JJEOK!

His head turned sharply. He almost had his head torn off. Barely gritting his teeth, he thrust out his leg, and the large figure retreated from the trajectory without a sound.

‘Ah, damn.’

And then accelerated forward again.

KWANG, all his ribs broke.

Llewellyn’s arm, thrust out in counterattack, missed. He retreated again.

He needed to escape. But it was too late.

KWAKWANG, he accelerated forward again using repulsion. He passed over the base of the clock tower to the other side. Even as he rolled on the ground and spat blood, desperately trying to get up…

JJEOK!

Once again, the accelerated Valterok created a lethal attack simply by placing his straightened fist in the trajectory.

Llewellyn felt his consciousness fading as he flew. Well, if one could accelerate, there was no need to exert effort to throw a punch—this realization came to him.

That became a spark of inspiration for Llewellyn. As Llewellyn crashed into what was once an office building, destroying its foundation…

Valterok held his longsword at an angle.

“You’ll need to do better.”

What was needed was proof.

Proof to convince Valterok, proof that he had the strength to protect those ordinary people marked with spell formulas.

Llewellyn gritted his teeth, staggered to his feet, and partially wrapped holy blood around his broken and burst areas.

He needed to move more efficiently. Act more efficiently.

Simply drawing on martial arts wasn’t enough.

In this world, there were many people with better martial skills than Llewellyn, and many with better application abilities.

Amid all that, the only thing Llewellyn excelled at was physical ability.

If that was the case, Llewellyn thought he should just take what he needed.

The materials were sufficient. He had plenty. The remaining process was one: combination.

Llewellyn, panting, barely regained his posture and took a stance engraved in his knowledge.

Legs spread wide, center of gravity on the front foot.

A movement premised on having a tail and using it.

The Dragon King’s martial art, Dragon Drop.

After taking the stance, Llewellyn subtly changed his posture.

All the power of Dragon Drop comes from the heavy, thick tail acting as a support.

The two leg kicks embedded in the movement are structured that way.

It doesn’t work for Llewellyn with a human skeleton.

So.

Llewellyn exhaled a breath stained with blood and shifted the balance from his front foot to his back foot.

The charging power dies. Some movements can’t be used.

But he can adapt. This isn’t a game. It’s reality.

In reality, there aren’t strict rules like in games.

Llewellyn clenched his fists in the shape of dragon claws.

Here he comes. The storm created by the repulsion between anti-magic and magic tousled his hair, and Llewellyn exhaled through his blood-stained face.

As the remaining holy blood wrapped around his fists and feet…

Llewellyn gritted his teeth and met the black comet breaking through the debris.

KAAAANG!

At the moment of collision, he slightly tilted his posture and activated Explosive Leap.

The leap isn’t constrained by stance. Just like the acceleration used by Valterok or Black Knights.

That’s why all of Valterok’s attacks were difficult to block. There was no warning, he just suddenly rushed in.

By simply taking a stance and accelerating, he could attack with minimal openings.

This led to ease of defense, agility in attack, and excellent responsiveness.

Llewellyn adopted Valterok’s method.

He accelerates while maintaining his fixed stance. Stably, as if stepping on solid ground, and then accelerates to throw a punch.

So it was Valterok who flew away.

“Excellent.”

Valterok stopped in mid-air. His chest was dented.

In terms of physical ability, Llewellyn had the advantage. No being in this world is as strong, durable, and agile as this homunculus mourner.

No one possesses these three qualities to the extent that Llewellyn does. Llewellyn identified his strengths and made them his own.

Blindly using what one has is the realm of the second-rate.

A first-class warrior stops at using what they have in the right place at the right time.

A master is at the stage of breaking everything down and adapting.

The stage where even the most basic move can be lethal.

Llewellyn had stepped into that realm. With a posture different from when he stated his ambition earlier.

A stance more suited to humans, firmly grounded with a high center.

Valterok looked at such a Llewellyn, brushed off his dented chest, and firmly tucked the lance under his arm.

The Black Knight smiled.

“Now I’ll get serious too.”

Simultaneously, Valterok’s armor howled. The circuits heated up, and his armor burned black.

As if to say the real fight starts now.