Ch.35Warrior (2)

No one could see the Owl Bear’s approach.

Despite its massive form, it remained unseen. This was due to the special feathers of the Owl Bear and its transcendent muscular strength that generated incredible speed.

Even Llewellyn, who possessed the keenest senses among all people and monsters present, couldn’t see the attack coming. To the other Imperial soldiers, it was truly an invisible assault.

It was like an ambush coming without warning. It wouldn’t have made a difference even if they had closed their eyes.

Yet somehow, Llewellyn managed to block it.

He twisted his distorted foot—the leg with toes pointing backward—turning his body to avoid the attack.

Even just the grazing contact caused his cloak to violently flutter, and a fierce sound of air being torn filled the space. A hole formed in the ship’s hull, allowing seawater to seep in.

Yet above all this noise, one sound dominated:

SLASH!

Blood erupted diagonally across the Owl Bear’s body. The spurting crimson wasn’t ordinary human blood.

Only then did the Owl Bear become visible, stained red.

The monster twisted its body faster than the spraying blood could hit the floor.

Thus, monster faced monster.

KWANG, KWANG, BOOM!

Two sharp swipes of its front paws followed by a kick-like thrust of its hind legs. The flawless attacks of a warrior who understood its body perfectly.

Fast and precise. Not the movements of a mere beast. And the Black Knight was evading them.

CRACK!

No, not perfect evasion. The uppercut following the final kick tore off the top part of his helmet, revealing part of his face and hair.

Cold gray eyes and black hair. It wasn’t just pieces of armor and helmet that scattered.

Torn scalp, flying droplets of blood, and the Owl Bear’s front paw digits joined the fray.

They struck and slashed. Though both must have been in pain, neither warrior showed any sign of it as they engaged each other.

A precise strike from his position. The blade pierced through the Owl Bear’s stomach.

It would be good to twist the hilt, but he couldn’t. The Owl Bear had grabbed the hilt in reverse and was trying to kick him.

Reading the movement, Llewellyn released the sword and spun away, not even realizing he could do so.

WHOOSH!

Facing the Owl Bear’s leg that kicked through his cloak’s afterimage and the horizontally embedded longsword, Llewellyn didn’t hesitate to slam his clenched fist down on the sword hilt.

WHOOOOOSH!

The Owl Bear’s side split open, with intestines flowing out along with blood. The amount of blood pouring out with the acrid smell of burning was substantial. The seawater splashing on the floor was already turning crimson.

Similarly, the fallen longsword stuck into the floor, but there was no time to retrieve it. Llewellyn jumped backward, anticipating the front paw flying toward him.

ZZZZZZING!

His body flew backward. It was a heavy attack that seemed to rattle his very bones. Though it was difficult to even maintain his balance, he quickly got up from where he had landed.

There lay Isla, already unconscious and soaked in seawater. Llewellyn rushed forward to prevent her from getting caught in the fight.

He saw the massive form leaping toward him. Only then did he realize it wasn’t just speed that made it invisible.

CRAAAAAASH!

The lower deck shattered, and seawater rushed in like a geyser, filling the ship.

Despite the pressure that could have pushed his body away, the Owl Bear, completely soaked, saw Llewellyn who had circled to its side.

But Llewellyn had already prepared to attack. He brought both hands together and struck down at the Owl Bear’s head.

The head was pushed aside significantly. Blood sprayed, and the scalp torn by his gauntlet stained the red feathers.

The skill possessed by a Mourner, the power of mourning, draws strength from the flesh by consuming lifespan.

The stronger the physical body, the more powerful the effect.

That’s why Mourners live short lives. Usually.

But for an immortal Mourner, it’s a different story. It’s like drawing water from an endless sea. The Owl Bear noticed this fact and roared.

The rising seawater rippled, forming waves that splashed sharply in all directions. Llewellyn raised his hand to block the beak aiming for his head.

With a chilling sound of flesh being crushed, his left hand was completely severed, but he didn’t hesitate to swing his right fist.

CRACK!

The beak shattered, scattering fragments. It could no longer thrust with its beak. In response, the massive body lunged forward.

It was too close to block. Llewellyn flew through the air with an impact that seemed to shake the world.

‘I can’t just fly away.’

Even as he rolled on the floor and got soaked in seawater, he picked up the Star Blade that had been boiling the seawater and some debris, then stood up.

CRUNCH. His feet, planted firmly on the floor, broke through the lower deck, but he didn’t care. He immediately threw the debris at the Owl Bear that was leaping toward him.

As the Owl Bear’s vision was blocked, Llewellyn moved instantly. The Owl Bear cleared away the debris with its body and saw the thrust aimed at its head.

It was an attack it had seen before. The only attack that had worked before “that state.” It twisted its head, and the flames shot past.

Normally that would be the end, but Llewellyn didn’t waste the inspiration that came to him.

TSSSK. Dragging his foot, he used the recoil from the thrust to bend the sword’s path.

CRACK!

The blade that had paused in mid-air struck the Owl Bear’s neck.

It was a common sword technique. A simple skill of using the recoil from the waist to change direction.

But it was something impossible for normal people due to the overwhelming strength required. He managed it.

A method the previous Llewellyn wouldn’t have even thought of. The Owl Bear noticed the enemy’s growth and…

‘Excellent.’

…was pleased despite the pain.

It should retreat. If the enemy had grown, it should prepare as much as possible before facing him again.

Yet the Owl Bear didn’t retreat despite realizing this. Instead, it stepped forward.

Its front paw surged upward from below, scattering seawater and debris.

SLASH!

When Llewellyn’s blade met it, the only result was the front paw being severed. It was an excellent defense. The Owl Bear, while impressed, struck Llewellyn with its severed front paw.

Llewellyn, thrown backward, crashed through the ship’s structure and charged through the seawater that was now rising to ankle level.

Swinging his sword, throwing punches, striking down with front paws—they struggled fiercely.

The Imperial soldiers preparing to evacuate the sinking ship witnessed it.

“…Monsters.”

As someone murmured, it truly was a battle of monsters.

But even a battle between monsters must have an end. The fight was slowly approaching its conclusion.

’60 seconds.’

The Owl Bear knew Llewellyn was a Mourner, and from experience, it knew that a Mourner’s time limit was 60 seconds.

It also knew that those 60 seconds were coming to an end.

Usually, a Mourner can use mourning only once or at most twice a day.

This is because there are no living Mourners who overuse the life-shortening power in pursuit of strength.

The moment to strike would be when the mourning ends. As the time the Owl Bear had been counting internally approached…

SPLASH!

Suddenly, it saw Llewellyn drop to his knees.

Mourning inevitably brings a sense of powerlessness and fatigue, as it awakens and uses the body’s dormant potential to its maximum.

And in that state, one cannot avoid attacks. The Owl Bear raised both front paws high.

It was a downward strike using the full weight of its body.

A blow that even the sturdiest homunculus couldn’t withstand.

Even if he didn’t die from this, it would drag him into the sea and crush him in its embrace.

The powerlessness from the end of mourning and the fatigue from lifespan reduction were not something even a homunculus could endure.

It was at that moment, as the Owl Bear prepared its final blow with certainty of victory.

Llewellyn, amid frequent injuries, regeneration, and mental shock from pain, recalled his memories.

[Mourning 1/3]

The faces of people he had killed and harmed, those who had died because of him.

[Mourning 0/3]

In the fatigue that threatened to make him lose consciousness, his world condensed.

[Mourning]

[Time remaining: 60 seconds]

The third mourning used in a short time.

An intense fatigue that even a homunculus couldn’t withstand came over him, but he straightened his knees.

KWAAAANG!

A thunderous sound rang out, and the Owl Bear noticed that the homunculus was no longer under its front paws.

Only seawater was gushing from the hole in the ship’s floor.

Where was he?

Before it could turn its head, blood poured from its neck.

A crescent-shaped gash in the neck. It tried to hold it with its relatively intact front paw, but blood soaked its paw.

How? As it turned its head, it saw Llewellyn.

Llewellyn, holding a sword in his right hand, his left arm completely crushed.

The man who had received the final attack with his sword, sacrificed his left arm to deflect it, and then swung his longsword with his right hand.

A left arm and half a neck. The Owl Bear had lost this exchange. It couldn’t even roar as its vocal cords were severed. The bleeding was serious.

But it still had its front paws. Its beak was cracked but still there. However, it couldn’t choose to counterattack.

Faster than it could think of counterattacking, Llewellyn twisted his body greatly and pulled down his sword.

Changing the direction of his waist, he pulled down the rising longsword again. The direct downward slash reminded the Owl Bear of a scene from long ago.

The resentment from when all his family who had hidden and raised him because he was a shapeshifter were killed, and he himself nearly beheaded.

The bloody nightmare where he had to become the monster they so feared and kill them all.

The memories of wandering the world as a warrior, meeting the Three Tribes, and eventually giving up everything.

The blade was approaching.

The man who was a soldier of the Three Tribes and a shapeshifter who had lost everything whispered.

He could reduce his volume by undoing the transformation, then transform again to dodge and counterattack.

But the warrior in him shook his head.

It was a perfect strike with an impeccable finish. Technically, he had been defeated.

He had to accept it. The life he had built urged him to.

So he closed his eyes.

“Thank you.”

With words that might not be heard, the Star Blade traced a red trajectory.

The blade embedded in his neck, and the following flames severed it.

THUD. With the sound of the head rolling on the floor, silence fell.

Only the trickling sound of seawater filling the ship and the subtle creaking of the sinking vessel’s wooden structure remained.

Llewellyn stood there panting for a while before moving.

He needed to return to land. Otherwise, it would be a meaningless death.

Carrying the unconscious Isla on his back, he swam, clinging to his fading consciousness.

Recalling the swimming he had learned as a child with his sister and council support, he somehow moved his drooping arms and legs through the sea.

The sea, now enveloped in darkness, was warmer than expected. It pulled at his ankles, trying to drag him down, but the homunculus’s robust body overcame it.

Grateful for being a monster, Llewellyn barely reached the harbor.

He climbed the ladder and tried to make his way inland from the creaking dock.

Just as he was about to catch his breath…

FLASH!

Light shot from all directions. It was an intense light that made it difficult to even open his eyes.

It was magic. Magic equivalent to searchlights in modern times. Amid the light pouring from all directions, Llewellyn belatedly remembered something.

‘Ah, right.’

The Owl Bear shapeshifter had subordinates. Mages and mercenaries prepared to hunt Melody.

Engrossed in the fight and with both body and mind in tatters, Llewellyn had forgotten.

With his consciousness periodically cutting out and resuming, it was unavoidable.

But now that the situation had unfolded, there was nothing he could do. Llewellyn, panting, gently put down the soaked Isla and stepped forward.

He was covered in blood and on the verge of fainting from exhaustion.

He didn’t know if he could fight. But he had to. He instinctively thought so.

However, his body wouldn’t allow it.

CLANG!

The sword slipped from his hand and rolled on the ground.

THUD!

His knees buckled, and he collapsed forward. His legs wouldn’t move anymore.

Whether it was because he had used his twisted body for too long, or because he had used mourning three times, he didn’t know.

He only vaguely knew he was in danger.

A critical danger. Still kneeling, Llewellyn blankly looked at the enemies surrounding him.

Even if he were in perfect condition, he wasn’t sure if he could handle them all.

“…Prepare to attack!”

The mage who seemed to be the leader raised his hand. As he aimed with his other hand forming a seal, other mages and mercenaries also targeted Llewellyn.

Those with swords drew them, and human hunters with bows and crossbows aimed at Llewellyn’s head, body, or legs.

The mages prepared their specialties and targeted Llewellyn. Llewellyn knew there was no escape from this situation.

Unless he was at max level.

‘It would be nice if my sister came to help.’

Just as he was about to burst into a hollow, childish laugh at the thought…

Suddenly, a sound reached his ears.

“What’s that sound?”

It seemed he wasn’t the only one who heard it. Before anyone could answer the mage’s puzzled voice, a melody flowed.

A sound like chirping birds, yet strangely like an instrument.

High and sharp, but somehow pleasant to hear.

“Is that… whistling?”

If so, it was a very skilled whistle.

The expression of the mage temporarily acting as leader froze in disbelief.

“Everyone, be on gua—!”

—!

Magic infused the melody that echoed. A magical melody that pounded the brains and bodies of all who heard it.

The mercenaries’ bodies stiffened and then collapsed to the ground.

Soon after, a girl walked forward with the sharp melody.

A beautiful girl with an estoc in hand, a cloak, and golden hair close to amber.

She waved to the dazed Llewellyn. Then, a clear voice flowed at the end of the melody.

“I have a lot to say… and I didn’t want you to push yourself this far.”

The girl tapped her lips and then withdrew her hand. She rarely opened her eyes, but now she gazed at Llewellyn with satisfied eyes.

With affection reminiscent of a sister.

“But you did well.”

“G-golden…!”

THUD. The estoc pierced the throat of a mage just freed from paralysis and withdrew. Melody cleaned her sword and concluded:

“From now on, leave it to me and rest comfortably.”

The cute face of the girl winking with one eye.

That was Llewellyn’s last memory before losing consciousness.

But he fell asleep with a deep sense of relief, without any anxiety.