Ch.156Chapter 156

Darius let out a battle cry as he charged at the Wendigo.

His arm, which had been struck by the Wendigo, creaked painfully, and his aged body wouldn’t move as he wanted, but there was no time for complaints.

Even now, his knights were fighting head-on against the Wendigo’s army, burning their lives away.

The best strategy Darius could choose was to inflict a fatal wound on the enemy before him and escape with his knights while the army was thrown into confusion.

But if people could always choose the best strategy, why would they ever select mediocre or poor ones?

Most people don’t choose mediocre or poor strategies because they’re stupid. They choose them because they have no other options—they’re forced to swallow the bitter pill.

“Hup!”

Darius summoned a powerful lightning from his golden sword and thrust it toward the Wendigo’s heart.

If the blade could just pierce the skin, lightning would burst from the Wendigo’s heart, instantly returning him to nature.

But the Wendigo clearly saw Darius’s attack coming. He swung his sword to deflect Darius’s strike.

The mystical powers imbued in both swords violently clashed, embroidering the air with ice fragments and flashes of light. But Darius had no time to admire the sight as he clenched his teeth.

‘What incredible strength!’

Though Darius possessed a body sturdier than ordinary humans, it was impossible for him to withstand the Wendigo’s strength, which rivaled that of an Ogre.

The only reason his arm hadn’t broken was thanks to his long experience fighting monsters and Djin. Darius forcibly withdrew his trembling arm and unleashed the second power imbued in his sword.

Crack!

“Hmm?”

The Wendigo, who had been about to pursue the retreating Darius, flinched at the strange sensation beneath his feet. Before he could notice, rocks had sprouted from the ground and seized his legs.

Of course, mere rocks couldn’t bind the Wendigo’s legs. The rock shackles crumbled easily, almost like sand rather than stone…

Darius instinctively sprang forward, stepped on the Wendigo’s knee, and leaped upward. The Wendigo inwardly admired this brave attempt.

Perhaps an old tiger was still a tiger after all.

Darius, displaying agility that belied his elderly frame, grabbed the Wendigo’s neck with one hand and swiftly spun around to cling to the Wendigo’s back.

Darius aimed his sword at the Wendigo’s neck with all his might. The sharp blade flew toward the Wendigo’s neck as if it would pierce through at any moment.

But the Wendigo remained calm. He responded to Darius’s thrust by slightly tilting his head.

It was a tiny movement, but the Wendigo’s antler blocked Darius’s sword path.

Darius, mocking the Wendigo’s decision to block a sword with mere antlers, thrust his golden sword with greater mystical power and…

Clang!

“What!?”

When the golden sword collided with the antler, it discharged lightning and exerted its power, but the Wendigo’s antler withstood the attack without a scratch.

What caught Darius’s startled eyes was the antler beginning to turn white.

That chilling whiteness started at the root of the antler and spread rapidly. Darius instinctively withdrew his sword and jumped off the Wendigo’s back.

In that brief moment of contact with the white antler, frost formed on the golden sword, which vibrated with an unpleasant ringing sound.

Darius checked his sword’s condition and broke into a cold sweat. Fear gripped him—had he been a moment later, he might have frozen to death along with his golden sword.

And fear was a shackle that made the body sluggish.

The Wendigo, with surprising agility for his size, spun around and delivered a kick aimed at Darius’s head.

Paralyzed by fear and slow to defend, Darius blocked the kick with his sword but couldn’t disperse the impact. He was sent flying backward and tumbled across the ground once more.

Bouncing and rolling across the ground like a fallen bird, Darius felt his shoulder shatter and his knee break.

The pain was so intense that Darius couldn’t even scream as his body convulsed. He tried to use his golden sword as a cane to stand, but his body wouldn’t respond.

Darius barely managed to move his head to look ahead. The monster who had reduced him to tatters was approaching slowly with a dignified attitude.

Perhaps due to his pain-clouded mind, Darius—despite his nickname “The Pious”—had an irreverent thought.

‘Truly, he lacks nothing to be called a king.’

The Wendigo approaching with an ice sword in one hand, black silk fluttering around him—he truly looked the part.

Of course, the Wendigo wasn’t walking that way to establish dignity.

He had instinctively channeled mystical power into his antlers, but retrieving that power was proving more difficult than expected, so he was walking slowly.

Who would show such leisure in the middle of battle?

Unaware of this, Darius, who had considered the Wendigo to be some ancient Djin awakened from a long slumber, felt grateful that the Wendigo had waited for him to stand.

‘Why are you feeling grateful while dying?’

Though the Wendigo could read emotions but not thoughts, Darius looked like a masochist he had met in the past.

Just then, a loud yellow arrow shot into the sky from behind Darius.

Darius recognized what kind of arrow it was from its distinctive sound without even looking. Fortunately, the elder wasn’t completely foolish and had clearly instructed the mages to prepare their magic.

Darius gripped his life thread, which was about to snap, and raised his sword.

“Cough, I’m sorry, but it seems I can’t fight you fair and square.”

“!”

The Wendigo, who had been seriously wondering if Darius was insane for his sincere apology, was startled by the invisible force pressing against his body.

The pressure was quite impressive, making it uncomfortable to move…

“… Is this all?”

“???”

The invisible force trying to suppress the Wendigo was repelled when he moved his body using mystical power. Darius blinked in astonishment, momentarily forgetting his pain.

While the Wendigo might not know, Darius was well-versed in the clan’s magic. Unlike common magic or sorcery, the clan’s magic wasn’t flashy but efficient.

The clan’s magic specialized in binding and sealing entities that harmed humans, such as Djin, monsters, and Beasts. Thanks to this, the clan always had an advantage over Djin despite having human bodies.

Even though that noble purpose had changed beyond recognition, they weren’t operating under the pretext of serving humanity for nothing.

Darius stiffly turned his neck to glance behind him.

It was difficult to see clearly as battles were raging behind him as well, but Darius witnessed mages collapsing and coughing blood beyond the warriors.

Normally, treasures imbued with mystical power were prepared for such situations, but even those treasures were useless this time.

Every time the Wendigo moved, the mages’ treasures were being shattered.

‘… I thought there was no wall that couldn’t be overcome with full effort.’

Darius reflected on his arrogance as he watched the falling mages. He pulled out the long-forgotten humility from within himself.

It was a feeling he thought he had lost as he entered the twilight of his life. Though his excessive ambition had now brought disaster, he hadn’t always been this way in his youth.

He had risked his life hunting Djin, Beasts, and monsters for the clan’s mission, never fearing to learn, and never even taking interest in clan politics.

But what about now?

‘I’ve become no different from the old men I used to criticize so harshly in my youth.’

Darius realized that at some point, the pain had disappeared. It was a signal that his aging body was dying, unable to bear the pain any longer.

Though his body was moving toward death, Darius’s mind returned to his youth.

His eyes, like many who reach the end of their lives, reflected the vigor of the past. Darius raised his sword to deliver the final strike of his life.

“I thought the northern barbarians were intoxicated with power when they claimed to be our subjects, but now I see that perhaps we were the barbaric ones… Thank you for waiting for this old man.”

“I wasn’t particularly waiting for you.”

“Heh heh. Yes, let’s say that.”

The Wendigo’s sincerity didn’t reach Darius. After all, why would someone facing imminent death want to see or hear things they disliked?

When Darius gave him a knowing look, the Wendigo simply closed his mouth and charged at Darius. The invisible force surrounding his body weakened with each movement.

This meant that the mages trying to restrain the Wendigo’s movements were collapsing one by one, coughing blood.

Darius, paying respect to the mages who fulfilled their duty until the end, drew out the mystical power imbued in his golden sword to its limit.

Rocks sprouted from the ground to envelop the golden sword, with lightning flowing over them. Darius barely supported the weight with his body that seemed ready to collapse at any moment.

Darius swung his final, life-risking strike toward the Wendigo. He could confidently say that this strike was stronger than any he had delivered in his lifetime.

However…

“Even with this, I cannot win.”

The Wendigo’s ice sword, leaving a dark blue-black trajectory, slashed upward and completely cut through Darius’s sword. The golden sword lost its power as if its source had been severed.

Along with the falling rocks, Darius’s knees hit the ground. Having put everything into his final strike, he had less than a handful of strength remaining.

The Wendigo pointed his ice sword at Darius’s neck and asked him one last question.

“Do you have any last words?”

“Last words…”

At the Wendigo’s question, Darius fell into contemplation for the first time in a long while.

The battle was still raging around them, but for Darius, who had stepped onto the threshold of death, such things were (?) trivial matters.

Perhaps it was because he had reached the unknown realm of death.

For the first time in his life, Darius could reflect on his life. He realized where his death had been foretold.

Everything began when Lord Dencan, no, Dencan called for him.

From the beginning, it was strange to be told to earn merit so that he could better respect his elders.

‘Dencan’ was the sole leader and absolute authority of the clan. If such a Dencan wanted something, people within the clan would “naturally” understand and act accordingly—what need was there for merit?

Moreover, if Dencan had truly wanted him to earn merit, he would have noticed the problem and changed his people regardless of ability when he first started favoring his own people.

‘Come to think of it, it’s laughable. Dencan didn’t even personally care for me, yet I eagerly seized the opportunity he gave me… When a person’s time comes to die, they seem determined to die one way or another.’

Darius chuckled at his own foolishness. Squeezing out what little strength he had left, he turned his back to the Wendigo.

He surveyed his surroundings as if gauging his position, then straightened himself toward one direction. Then, in a monotone voice, he said:

“My abilities were insufficient to fulfill the clan’s will, so I cannot face Dencan. Having failed to carry out orders and pushed innocent young people to their deaths, what is there left for me to live for!”

Though his words spoke of loyalty, the Wendigo sensed terrible malice in the scent of Darius’s words. Darius continued speaking while glancing back:

“I apologize to Dencan with my death, but it saddens me that he will not know of it. I wish my heart could reach him and appease his anger, so I will die facing where he is.”

“…?”

Perplexed by the unexpectedly long last words, the Wendigo found something odd in Darius’s statement.

Atoning for the sin of defeat with death could be considered extreme devotion, unusual for knights of this era.

However, telling an enemy that he would die facing where Dencan was located seemed disloyal to the point of betrayal.

Though not stated directly, it was essentially saying, “My leader is in the direction I’m looking.”

The Wendigo’s assessment was correct.

After all, how many people could remain loyal to the end to someone who had pushed them to their death, even if they weren’t entirely blameless?

While Darius didn’t wish for the clan’s downfall, his unusually clear thinking led him to believe that if the clan couldn’t defeat the king before him even after succeeding in their grand plan, then the clan was destined to fall anyway.

So Darius didn’t hesitate to give Dencan the finger.

If the clan fell, it would be Dencan’s fault for choosing the wrong time; if the clan succeeded in defeating the king, that would be what he wanted anyway.

Leaving this final insult for his lord, Darius breathed his last with an unburdened expression.

Not a trace of lingering attachment could be found on his face—if there is such a thing as a good death, this could be called one.