Ch.137137. The Defense of Kairos (4)

The lion was old. No, rather than old, it would be more accurate to say he was absolutely ancient. For he was a creature who aged but did not grow old. Few humans knew of his existence, and none knew his name. Born from the wars of mythology, he had lived until now, and all magical beasts were his successors, modeled after him. This ancient life, existing at the root of the genealogical tree, was waiting only for his master’s descent. The magical beasts were beings subordinate to him, and he was a being subordinate to his master.

The lion faced the knights with arrogant eyes. He shifted sideways, crushing the human corpses beneath his feet. The lion’s front paws were larger than a human torso. From his mouth, which uttered no sound, vapor flowed even under the early summer sun. It was the residue of magical power vaporizing as it coursed through his bloodstream.

“…What on earth is that?”

Ris let out a trembling voice. This wasn’t something that could be described as merely strong or not. That creature was emanating a presence more powerful than an entire legion of magical beasts. Ris tried desperately to deny the thought forming in his mind.

Giant.

That lion alone was radiating such a presence. An overwhelming presence that denied existence itself and refused to tolerate anything living beneath it. Those who had experienced combat with giants wore frozen expressions, while those who hadn’t shrank back and turned away, experiencing this sensation for the first time. The lion faced the legion alone. His very presence raised the fallen magical beasts one by one.

“That can’t be one of the Calamity, right? I’ve never heard of something like that existing.”

Agnes muttered in a low voice. Grand Duke Quenore Strope, who had been following behind Agnes, drew his sword, turned his horse around with gleaming eyes. The soldiers cowered at the lion’s presence. Magical beasts were to be feared, but those who fought them must not be afraid. The Grand Duke summoned his magical power to dispel the fear that had settled like dawn mist.

“It’s an old one. Perhaps a being that commands all magical beasts. Much like a Calamity.”

At Quenore’s words, Agnes swallowed hard.

“It may not be a Calamity, but perhaps something comparable.”

Quenore gradually released his magical power. The treasured sword in his hand trembled fiercely yet quietly, revealing its blade name. Quenore’s expression remained unchanged. Though angry, he had not lost his reason. Nor was he overwhelmed by the powerful enemy’s aura. What could be glimpsed in his blazing blue eyes was fighting spirit and killing intent.

“I will go. Please take care of the northern soldiers.”

Quenore spoke calmly as he dismounted. With Quenore leaving the battlefield, someone was needed to command the northern soldiers. Agnes did not insist on going with him. She had her own role to fulfill.

“Come back victorious. Don’t worry about the soldiers.”

Quenore nodded and advanced. His treasured sword revealed the magical power it contained, emanating a chill. The time had come. It was time to avenge the humiliation of nearly being defeated by a giant that day. Each step toward the lion left traces of blue flames imbued with coldness. The sword was heavy, and life was light. Quenore felt the weight of his sword and thought so.

“Are you not afraid?”

The lion opened his mouth. The lion’s gaze was still arrogant, but now fully focused on Quenore. Bearing that gaze was no burden. The balance of their gazes maintained equilibrium, tilting to neither side.

“It is you who should be afraid.”

Quenore declared, fully revealing his power. A small storm rose at the Grand Duke’s feet. The ground cracked, creating a shallow but massive pit. The air tore and howled. The arrogance gradually disappeared from the lion’s eyes. Savagery frosted over those golden eyes, and the muscles in his shoulders began to twitch.

“So there was still one.”

The lion’s voice rang with joy. Unwelcome yet welcome at the same time. The lion’s mouth, which had not shown its teeth, opened to reveal gleaming fangs. His mane stood on end and his claws emerged. The lion breathed in the air and felt his own blood. He felt the blood racing through his veins, mixing with magical power.

“Their bloodline continues.”

The battles of mythology were engraved in the lion’s bloodline. The swords and magic of heroes were revived. The heroes were adversaries, and he was the trial and monster who had bitten countless heroes to death. Hero-slaying was his instinct, his duty, and his life’s purpose.

“I am pleased. That I still have work to do.”

The aura Quenore emitted was no less than that of a mythological hero. Rather, he was stronger than most of them.

“When I kill you, they will be pleased too. When I bite off your neck and moisten my throat with your blood, I will grow stronger. Your life will be a sacrifice for their descent, and it will symbolize our victory.”

The lion said with a broad smile. If smiling means turning up the corners of the mouth, opening it wide and showing teeth, then that was indeed a smile. The lion took one step forward. Simultaneously, Quenore also took a step toward the lion.

“That’s fortunate.”

Quenore also smiled, showing his teeth. The perfectly balanced power leaked nowhere. It merely enveloped them, swirling around. The two beings existed in a world of their own. The tense gazes from outside were none of their concern.

“I think so too.”

The exchange of gazes. The rise and fall of breaths. The discord and harmony of pulses. Subtle changes in aura and movement. Even standing still and observing each other was combat. Invisible omens transformed into signals only they could interpret, and the signals soon became blade tips aimed at the throat. With each tick of the mental stopwatch, dozens, hundreds of blade exchanges occurred.

After hundreds of exchanges repeated dozens of times, they stopped at some point. The breath they inhaled and exhaled was drawn into the other’s respiration. The inhaled breath was refined and mixed with magical power. They gauged each other, assessed the distance, and determined the line of death.

“…”

Finally, when it was time for both to inhale and exhale, the lion raised his front paw and Quenore lowered his sword. A blue aura frosted over the blade, and Quenore charged toward the golden lion like a howling gale.

KWANG-!!

The collision shook the battlefield, causing a small earthquake. The lion’s downward striking paw was blocking Quenore’s upward slashing blade. Quenore frowned deeply at the weight transmitted through his blade. The ground was deeply gouged, creating a shallow but massive pit. The lion wanted to press down and kill, while Quenore wanted to break the lion’s balance.

TUNG-!!

Magical power repelled magical power. The deadlock ended, but no conclusion was reached. Nothing that either being wanted had happened. Quenore forcibly connected his discontinued sword strike to launch the next slash. The lion met the immediate follow-up attack head-on with his front paw.

“…This is abnormal.”

Quenore muttered. Despite blocking Quenore’s full-power aura twice, the lion was unharmed without shedding a drop of blood. Rather, he approached again, shaking his mane as if satisfied.

“You’re stronger than the heroes I faced back then. It will be rewarding to bring you down.”

Quenore gritted his teeth. This time, the lion came with his jaws wide open. The lion spread his front paws wide, trying to strike down on Quenore as if to crush him with his shoulders. Quenore tried to thrust his sword into the lion’s wide-open mouth, but before the blade could pierce the lion’s palate, the lion closed his jaw with ghostly speed, catching the blade. The lion then shook his head, trying to separate the sword from Quenore.

“Kuk-!”

Quenore clenched his teeth. His shoulder nearly got ripped out. When the lion saw Quenore resisting his strength, he tried to subdue him with even greater force, as if finding it ridiculous.

“It’s a pleasure to subdue a kind that doesn’t listen.”

A low voice leaked through the teeth biting the blade. Quenore and the lion were engaged in a battle of wits. The one who released their strength would have fewer options, and maintaining strength was necessary to keep the fight equal. The lion bit down harder on the sword, seemingly unaffected by the blue aura burning inside his mouth.

“If I subdue and kill you, I’ll experience a special pleasure.”

“How arrogant.”

Quenore drew more magical power. Now it was the lion’s turn to be surprised. He almost lost his grip on the sword from the pulling force. And that force was being maintained. Along with the annoying aura burning his mouth, this standoff was beginning to turn unfavorable for the lion.

“Hmph.”

With a snort, the lion suddenly released the sword. Contrary to his expectation, Quenore didn’t show a single opening. Liberated force is new power. Quenore twisted his body in mid-air and plunged his sword down. The sword, swung at a distance where the tip couldn’t reach the lion, drew a blue crescent and fired a wave of aura.

KWAGWAGWANG-!!

A massive scar was carved into the ground, causing an explosion. The lion at the epicenter grimaced and staggered. As if revealing his anger, his face and shoulders contorted and writhed.

“You-!”

This time, the lion drew even more power. A roar encompassing the earth erupted from the lion’s throat, and the shockwave turned the area into a wasteland. Those fighting nearby, both magical beasts and humans, were swept away regardless.

“Such petty tricks-!”

The lion launched himself. A faint golden afterimage remained like a shadow over the grass. The lion himself became a massive blade, cutting the tall grass. The charge could neither be avoided nor blocked. Quenore instinctively realized this. He had to push back with greater force or deflect it – twist the direction of the force.

The single path forked. One led to life, the other to death. It wouldn’t immediately push one off a cliff, but a wrongly chosen fork would slowly, very slowly guide the walker to the precipice. If one failed to choose, the path would collapse and transform into a cliff. Below the cliff, blue waves kicked at the wind-carved rocks.

Quenore chose the former. To confront. To directly clash with the approaching golden blade. The killing intent took form and directly pierced his skin. He couldn’t miss. The impulse of force had to meet at its peak. If the timing was even slightly off, he would die.

JENG-!!

Sword and claws collided. It was an even match. It was the moment when the line of death drawn by the lion and the hero disappeared. The line would become a scale, teetering until it dropped someone to death.

Claws became swords and the sword became claws as they tangled. The lion had three swords. And he knew better than anyone how to wield those three swords. Quenore had one sword. How should one sword face three? Swinging the sword three times would be a mistake.

Quenore captured the path of the three swords and thrust his sword. With one swing, he countered three swings. He had to look two steps ahead to swing his sword. As sword and claws collided, blue sparks flew. Fragments of aura, metal, and claws. The traces of collision passing his face left small wounds.

“Persistent.”

The lion’s words mixed with a low growl. Again, the front paw flew in. Left side. To deflect it without contact, he had to consider the sharp wind pressure. His eyes looked at the lion’s eyes, sensing the attack purely through feeling. The end of the sword hilt pushed away the front paw. There was only the force of pushing. Deflecting was a process of pushing. Force and direction. Quenore let his body think.

Strike down, receive upward. A decisive sword aimed at the heart left a wound on the lion’s shoulder. The mythical rain scattered in the air and disappeared. It was blood that burst out and flowed outside the skin for the first time in thousands of years. The lion roared again in anger. The lion was an ancient being. An ancient being living in the present. The years that humans had accumulated over generations, he had experienced wholly as an individual.

He did not accept this equilibrium.

A momentary burst of power pushed Quenore back. The difference in origin broke the balance, and for the first time, a one-sided attack hit.

KWANG-!!

“Kuhek-!!”

Quenore spat blood as he was flung back. Blood, not of myth, scattered on the ground. A gale howled where the lion’s claws had passed. The space distorted in three directions, shimmering like a heat haze.

“Can you not see the end?”

The lion showed a satisfied smile again. The lion took a step toward the fallen Quenore.

Quenore’s upper armor lay shattered on the ground. And where the armor had broken, deep wounds were eating into his chest, creating a pool of blood.