Ch.123The Black Mage and the Black Knight (11)

Valterok waited, gripping his lance and longsword tightly.

He knew his opponent was not an enemy, and even if they were, they wouldn’t flee or turn their back.

Moreover, he didn’t believe they would fall so easily.

This being, who had lived for an incredibly long time, had seen countless humans and, true to his mission, had killed black mages time and again.

What he had learned through all that killing was that not all humans were the same.

Valterok waited with apparent composure.

For Luwellin to finish his preparations and come out, and ultimately to prove himself so that the frightened civilians behind him wouldn’t have to die.

He was a survivor. Someone who would do anything to survive.

But he wasn’t truly deserving of the title “slaughterer.” Those he killed were only black mages or something wicked.

Or perhaps a fire that needed to be extinguished to prevent greater damage.

So this time too, he waited. His lance hung low near the ground, and his longsword twitched in his right hand.

It might have seemed like a frivolous movement, but because the one performing it was this strange being with barely any human presence, it didn’t appear frivolous at all.

Naturally, people saw him twitch his sword and sensed the hidden pleasure within.

Yes, Valterok was enjoying himself.

He enjoyed this entire situation.

For Valterok, who had awakened after nearly a thousand years of slumber and had been killing black mages ceaselessly for 300 years, this was a major turning point.

Naturally, the civilians also waited quietly.

They knew that the black magic inscribed in the scars on their bodies could ignite at any moment, ready to burn everything, and that if the man facing the black knight were defeated, they would die.

Yet strangely, no anxiety arose. An inexplicable certainty and peace had crept into their hearts.

They didn’t know its name.

Luwellin probably didn’t know either.

Only Valterok knew.

It was faith.

And the subject of that faith emerged from the ruins.

“Oho.”

Stained with blood, wrapped in sacred blood here and there.

Though he looked like he might collapse at any moment, there was an inexplicably powerful presence in his dignified walk.

Something beyond magical power or anti-magic power. Something different from the presence of the three races.

Yet something similar to the father the three races desperately sought, perhaps the same or even greater.

Qualification.

Valterok saw that qualification.

“What is that?”

Valterok asked. His question and nod were directed at the short handle emitting something red.

Instead of answering, Luwellin firmly gripped the short weapon he had been holding loosely.

The wind coalesced. The reddened wind formed what looked like a vivid axe blade, and Luwellin glanced at the blade thus formed and aimed it.

There’s not much difference from before. That must be true.

A hand axe is a short weapon. Useful at close range, and better than bare hands.

At least it has a blade.

But this didn’t apply to Luwellin.

His bones, muscles, and skin surpassed ordinary metals, and the harmony of his martial arts, dragon-slaying, and deflection techniques made his hand swings as powerful as a great sword.

There was no need to grip something like a hand axe. The Dragon King that Valterok knew didn’t use weapons for the same reason.

He was closer to wearing clothes on his body and slaughtering enemies with his tail and scale-covered limbs.

So why did he take up a weapon?

What trick was he preparing?

Valterok, filled with anticipation, slowly raised his longsword to aim at Luwellin.

Their eyes met. Gazes intertwined. Though Valterok’s were hidden behind his helmet, Luwellin knew their eyes had met.

The steps of one person and one being stopped simultaneously, and both their feet pressed down on the ground at exactly the same time, as if they had been waiting for this moment.

With a crunch, the compressed ground made a noise as both figures accelerated simultaneously.

They collided. Just as the civilians, with their dim senses, noticed and tightly shut their eyes.

A resounding noise enveloped and echoed throughout the ruined Servan.

While ordinary people covered their ears or bowed their heads, Valterok looked at the tip of his longsword.

Screech!

The sword was blocked. The formless red wind that had been emitted from the hand axe had blocked it.

There was no time to assess. Valterok’s feet moved, and the anti-magic power explosively pouring from his body pushed him backward.

Boom!

The massive body soared with a thunderous roar. Acceleration that flowed like water the moment he stepped on the air, and a pursuit strike with his longsword.

As he plunged to the ground, Valterok again saw the red wind rising and wrapping around Luwellin’s body.

‘A shield?’

A shield in the form of a hand axe. That’s how he saw it. Valterok’s gaze quickly followed the hand axe, then thrust his lance.

Crunch!

The precisely thrust lance was accurate and powerful. Due to the time-delayed swing of the longsword, the wind emitted by the hand axe also subsided.

Thus, the hand axe broke free from the hand, breaking it. He had intended to destroy it, but it wasn’t destroyed. That in itself was surprising, but it didn’t matter.

He had taken the hand. Just as Valterok was about to approach by stomping his foot.

The hand axe, floating in the air, rotated and settled in Luwellin’s other hand.

Clang!

“Hmm…!”

The hand axe followed with a trajectory like a full moon. Its heaviness alone surpassed that of ordinary monsters.

He couldn’t match it in strength. Valterok met Luwellin’s eyes, read the resolute look in them, and.

Without realizing it, he smiled and dove inward instead of being pushed back.

Raising his leg. Targeting the abdomen.

The moment he kicked forward, Luwellin rotated. Accelerating with the emitted red wind, he turned a full circle to avoid it.

Naturally, the hand axe fell toward the leg. Clang, the armor dented, and his posture crumbled.

But Luwellin’s posture had also crumbled. The widely swung hand axe created an opening.

‘Then in this gap.’

Just as Valterok dropped his lance to the ground and clenched his fist.

Luwellin, with his crumbled posture, made a large sweeping motion.

Crack!

What unfolded was a downward kick. The kick shot from an impossible trajectory was an invisible strike that even Valterok couldn’t see and block.

With a resounding noise, the helmet rang, and his posture crumbled.

‘The wind!’

He had used the wind to push his body and rotate in place. After bringing down the axe with a crumbled posture, he used the wind to do a somersault in the air and brought down his leg.

Valterok smiled, feeling his non-beating heart flutter. More. Just a little more.

The corners of his mouth, which hadn’t moved, rose, and his hands, now gripping the longsword with both hands, rushed forward.

The exchanges that followed were no longer something ordinary humans could see and comprehend.

With a sound like fierce bees or countless birds flapping their wings, sparks continuously bloomed in the air.

Thrusting, striking, withdrawing, and then twisting his wrist to strike again with the back of the blade with the longsword gripped in both hands.

Luwellin faced all these attacks head-on.

Swinging the hand axe, using the wind to kick away slashes, and swinging his regenerated other hand to leave marks on the armor.

The difference between having one weapon and having your entire body as a weapon.

But it’s not a significant difference. It’s the difference between an immature technique and a mature one.

Amidst the grating metallic sounds, the red-hot longsword continued to lead Luwellin.

Only then did Luwellin realize.

He was teaching Luwellin.

Clang!

With the fierce metallic sound, torn grip, heated breath, and roughly beating heart.

In the midst of it all, Luwellin saw the wall of black blades overlapping toward him.

Curling his left hand into the shape of a dragon’s claw, gripping the hand axe with his right, and stepping forward with the wind and mourning wrapped around his body.

Blade met blade.

In the stretched-out time, Luwellin’s axe blade swam through the frozen time to touch the blade.

Sparks flying fiercely, and Valterok, who didn’t even stagger, holding his body in place with anti-magic power.

He’s going easy. What’s needed is proof, and this is a test.

There’s no need to be serious.

But even with that, the gap is felt. It makes him realize how arduous it is to fight a real level 20.

Yet it also seems to tell him that he can reach this place.

Luwellin immersed himself in this situation and attacked repeatedly.

The longsword surged. As he twisted his head to avoid it, it stopped abruptly in the air and thrust toward him.

A simple attack using anti-magic power. However, it was a strike faster than anything so far.

Deflecting it with the back of his hand, he swung the hand axe from bottom to top.

Retreating as much as the distance decreased, he leaped explosively with his leg, targeting the opening, and pushed him back.

The layers of anti-magic power behind Valterok crumbled. Valterok, who had been staggering backward, stopped, and the moment his gaze from behind the helmet reached Luwellin.

Luwellin sensed that something was coming.

His sharply honed intuition warned him. A strike was coming. A move that would overturn everything with a single blow.

A strike to crush from the front. If he continued as before, he would be defeated.

Therefore, what was needed was a feint.

Luwellin loosely gripped the hand axe faster than the closing distance.

He pulled his arm back. The fierce wind, like a hot blast, bypassed his body and positioned itself behind him.

And he threw it just like that.

Whoosh!

The hand axe flew with a different roar than when swung. Valterok didn’t look at the hand axe.

As if he knew, he twisted his head to avoid it. The hand axe, aimed at his shoulder and head, missed and went astray.

If it had hit, with the great force imbued, it would have shaken his posture for a moment.

But it didn’t hit. Valterok, feeling even a slight disappointment, closed the distance and.

Crack!

“…Hmm?!”

He stopped at the fierce impact that suddenly struck his spine.

His posture wavered. A profound impact that would have been similar if he had been hit by what was just thrown.

Though not powerful, it contained enough impact to shake Valterok’s massive body.

Because to return, ignoring the force of the throw, it had to carry a fiercer wind than when it was thrown.

Luwellin pulled down his right hand that had thrown the hand axe and thrust forward his left fist, which he had already clenched.

—!

A strike so powerful that even Valterok froze for a moment.

A single punch delivered with sacred blood wrapped around him and the strength increased by the temporary health gained from the exoskeletal sacred body.

The harmony of martial arts and dragon-slaying, combined with critical destruction, took effect.

For the first time in 50 years, Valterok saw parts of his armor breaking.

With fragments of armor falling, Luwellin staggering backward, and Valterok standing dazed, touching the broken area around his solar plexus.

Something desperately drawn out, what Valterok called divinity, was imbued in that strike.

The outcome is clear. Luwellin had already collapsed. His heart was stopping, and the divinity that had been imbued was depleted.

To accumulate divinity again would require a long rest.

So Luwellin couldn’t move even a fingertip. He could only exhale rough breaths and groan from mental and physical fatigue.

Is it over?

It was when Luwellin looked up at Valterok with fierce eyes.

“Heh.”

Valterok laughed. It wasn’t a sneer or a smile of victory.

Rather, it was a laugh of satisfaction.

While Luwellin was looking on in puzzlement, he brought his hand to his helmet and removed it.

Naturally, Luwellin’s eyes widened. An expression deeply tinged with astonishment was reflected in his crystal-cut eyes.

Valterok, with the removed helmet tucked under his arm, looked at Luwellin.

“Valterok, you….”

Valterok.

The leader of the Anti-Magic School and one of the most powerful beings known as the Black Knight.

He wasn’t human.

Luwellin saw a golem who had removed his helmet and was smiling with satisfaction.

That metallic face and the humanity deeply permeated beyond it.

“It’s an honor to meet you, God of the new era.”

“…”

“My name is Valterok. Commander of the Black Knights, Chancellor of the Anti-Magic School, and a humble servant who has received the mission to restore God to this land forsaken by God.”

His face was overflowing with a sense of achievement.

The sense of achievement of having finally accomplished his task after a thousand years.

A golem, who had never once turned his eyes away from his task, bowed, and Luwellin blinked blankly.