Ch.674Tears and Blood

# Defying Fate.

A world of my own unfolded, devoid of color, sound, taste, and smell.

In this world where all existence had slowed to a crawl, I kicked off the ground, lunged toward Ragnar Lokan, and swung Durandal.

My strategy was simple: approach with just enough provocation to unsettle him, and once the distance was sufficiently closed, surprise him by activating Defying Fate to strike first.

Hersella complained that this was more like a thief’s tactic than a warrior’s, but this was my specialty.

Unless my opponent was someone who couldn’t be neutralized with a single slash, or someone fast enough to keep up with my movements, it was an unstoppable killing technique.

In truth, given the caliber of enemies I faced, this “unstoppable” technique got blocked more often than I’d like to admit.

…Still, I thought it would work this time.

—-

I clicked my tongue in frustration as I glared at the platinum shield that had blocked Durandal’s blade. Though no sound of collision reached my ears, Durandal’s edge had been completely stopped by his shield.

A defense as fluid as flowing water. Remarkably, even under the influence of Defying Fate, he hadn’t frozen like other objects but had moved his arm to block my strike.

He was slightly slower than me, but his reaction speed was sufficient to position his shield in the path of Durandal.

[ ᚱ ]

The acceleration rune I’d heard about from Knut glowed with colorless light on the back of his hand.

And it wasn’t just the acceleration rune.

[ ᚷ ᚢ ᛜ ᛒ ]

Gebō, Ūruz, Ingwaz, Berkanan.

A rune that strengthened the output of other runes, one that granted the strength of an aurochs, one that amplified his vitality, and even one that healed wounds. Five runes protected him, scattering remnants of mana in all directions.

…I hadn’t given him time to chant activation words. Had he forced them to activate?

It wasn’t impossible.

After all, before I gained knowledge of rune magic, I had fought by forcibly awakening their power by pouring Karma of Murder into the seals. I just never expected that method could counter the power of Defying Fate.

On second thought, I was glad I hadn’t named my Tale of Heros “The Sword That Always Kills.” Looking at my track record, I might need to rename it “The Sword That Occasionally Kills.”

Well, whatever.

He revealed an unexpected counter from the first move, so I’ll have to be satisfied with that for now.

Feeling the distorted time axis returning to normal, I pressed down on his shield with Durandal while thrusting my left hand, sharpened like a blade, toward his solar plexus hidden behind the shield.

– Crackle!

Frosting, having regained its color, shot forth as a cursed bullet charged with lightning from my Karma of Murder.

Ragnar hastily twisted his upper body and swung his crimson longsword to counter. His slash struck at my arm from the side. My cursed claws, thrown off course, pierced through empty air.

“Attacking during a conversation? How rude, just like a barbarian!”

Having narrowly avoided Frosting, Ragnar shouted with a twisted expression. Now that we were out of the world of Defying Fate, his roar of anger and confidence was clear.

With color restored, I could see it now. The rune engravings all over his body were glowing with grayish holy light.

Just as I had forcibly used the fire rune by utilizing the power of Karma, he had awakened the rune engravings with the power of holy light.

…Knut couldn’t do that.

Well, I suppose that’s why he remained a vice-captain despite having ten runes embedded in him.

At any rate, with this approach, ambushing with Defying Fate wouldn’t be very effective. As long as my movements couldn’t exceed his reaction speed, even if I activated Defying Fate, he would immediately accelerate to counter.

It seemed he couldn’t maintain that super-acceleration state for long either, as the grayish light emitted by the five runes was rapidly fading.

The fact that he activated the healing rune as well probably meant he couldn’t withstand even a moment of acceleration without recovery magic.

For an instant, the acceleration exceeded even the speed of sound—no matter how heroic a crusader he might be, human bones and muscles couldn’t withstand such strain.

So, I needn’t worry about being overwhelmed by his speed.

“As if I could be as barbaric as you people?”

I retorted, spreading my missed left hand like a claw and swinging it toward his head. Who was he calling a barbarian?

“You primitives who make human sacrifices to some decrepit, washed-up god!”

“How insolent!”

Ragnar bellowed in anger and swung his shield. I blocked it with my shoulder and reversed my grip on Durandal, thrusting it toward his collarbone.

– Clang!

A sharp, grating sound. Ragnar raised his crimson sword to deflect Durandal’s tip, and as his lips moved, a storm of lightning suddenly erupted, engulfing his surroundings.

The lightning rune.

Since neither my true silver sword nor my mana resistance could protect me from electrocution, I had no choice but to retreat to a distance beyond the reach of his magic.

“Struck a nerve, did I?”

Raising the corner of my mouth in a mocking smile at his unexpectedly fierce reaction, I extended my index finger from the hilt of my sword and pointed it at him.

“Kenaz!”

I compressed the heat of the flame imbued with the power of Karma of Murder, concentrating it at my fingertip. A dark red karmic fire formed like a bead in front of my extended finger—

– Whoosh!

The next moment, it erupted as a high-temperature heat ray following my will.

A beam of karmic fire that could melt even steel with just a graze. It was a technique I had developed with Knut’s advice, inspired by how Crimson Dragon Sword spewed fire.

Due to lack of practice, it took some time to activate, making it difficult to use unless the enemy gave me time to concentrate the power of karmic fire.

[ ᚲ ᛉ ᚷ ]

“Kenaz, Algiz, Gebō!”

Lightning cannot block fire.

He dispelled the lightning surrounding him and attempted to block the beam of karmic fire by simultaneously activating runes of fire, defense, and enhancement. A barrier of burning red mana spread like a curtain.

– Crash!

But it couldn’t withstand even a few seconds before turning dark red and shattering.

– Roar!

The beam of karmic fire, having shattered the mana barrier, grazed his raised shield and penetrated through the royal castle wall, extending beyond the sky.

It was fortunate that the royal castle was built on a hill; had it been on flat ground in the middle of the city, that single strike would have caused a catastrophe.

“Such firepower from just a single fire rune… how much blood did you pour into it?”

Ragnar, having somehow avoided the heat ray, muttered in disbelief.

“How would I know?”

While Ragnar was dispelling his lightning and deploying his barrier magic, I had already reached his vicinity.

Durandal’s blade, flashing with blue-silver afterglow, swung down like a guillotine.

“Not a chance!”

Ragnar raised his shield, now blackened in the center, to block Durandal’s blade. The moment the sword struck the shield, his shield emitted a faint light and trembled slightly.

– Clang!

A disappointingly weak metallic sound for a strike that even a hero-class knight would find difficult to block. I slightly furrowed my brow as I looked at his shield.

The impact I felt wasn’t like striking metal with a sword, but rather like hitting a fluffy down comforter with a foam bat. It was as if the force I exerted returned to zero the moment it touched the shield.

This wasn’t just my imagination—despite blocking my attack in an unstable posture, Ragnar neither got pushed back nor fell down. He stood there perfectly fine, as if he hadn’t received any impact at all.

Come to think of it, it was the same when I swung my sword in the world of Defying Fate. Even then, he had perfectly blocked my strike just by raising his shield.

I thought he had strengthened himself with the strength rune to offset my power, but perhaps that wasn’t it.

“That shield must be some kind of holy relic?”

“In Dane, there are national treasures that only those who ascend to the throne can use. This sword and shield are precisely those!”

Ragnar tilted his shield to deflect Durandal and swung the crimson sword in his right hand.

It was a strike I could easily avoid just by leaning my upper body backward, given that his blade was shorter than an imperial longsword.

[ Fall back! ]

Had Hersella not urgently shouted and arbitrarily pulled out tentacles of Karma, I would have certainly dodged that way.

In the moment I reflexively stepped back a couple of paces at her cry, the blade of his sword, which had been at an impossible distance to reach me, suddenly extended and grazed the front of my robe.

For a moment, I thought of Joshua’s Tale of Heros, but I quickly realized this was an entirely different type of attack.

The blade, which had momentarily extended to almost twice its length, transformed into a viscous liquid and spilled onto the floor.

“Blood…?”

A blade made of blood. And like Frosting, it emitted an intensely unpleasant aura as if cursed.

“…You dodged it. Beast-like instincts, I see.”

After swinging his sword to shake me off, Ragnar brought the tip to the floor, and the pool of blood rose up along his blade and seeped into it.

A sword that absorbs human blood to create a cursed blade? It was truly a demonic weapon worthy of a cultist.

“To think such a demonic sword is a national treasure. What a rotten country from the roots.”

“Dáinsleif, the blood-drinking sword. Unlike the leashes Elpinel gives to his dogs, this is truly worthy of being called a holy relic.”

“And what about that shield?”

“Randalin, the shield that holds the tears of Aslaug, descendant of the Valkyries. A holy relic of protection for the king.”

I didn’t expect him to answer. Perhaps the stress of hiding his identity for so long had caused his suppressed nature to emerge as a desire for self-display.

But more importantly,

“A shield holding tears and a sword drinking blood… So, do you have armor that drinks poison or a helmet that drinks water?”

“…I’ve never heard of such armaments…?”

Why not?

If there are tears and blood, shouldn’t there naturally be poison and water too? Why not?

I felt an inexplicable anger.