Ch.79Hawk’s Eye, Kaufman Theosis (4)

Blades clashed against blades.

An archer with deeply cut hands and shoulders, unable to draw his bowstring. A swordsman covered in wounds, unable to unleash his sword energy. Neither was in anything close to normal condition, and their injuries and blood loss were far from trivial.

Drip, drip.

Wounds opening wider from violent movements. Blood spurting from gaping injuries. The sight of battered combatants fighting while spraying blood is usually pathetic or unsightly. But the battle between these two was different.

Clang, clang! Clang-clang-clang!

The sound of blades colliding and scraping.

The noise echoing several times per second was far from unsightly—it was almost beautiful. Sparks flew as metal struck metal, mixing with spraying blood.

Their feet tangled in a chaotic dance.

One would thrust forward then retreat, and just when it seemed they were backing away, they’d dive sideways to target the flank. Their bloodshot eyes were fixed on each other, desperate to tear into any opening.

Boom.

Najin stomped his foot down as he swung his sword. The moment his foot hit the ground, blood spurted from the hole in his thigh, but his stance never wavered.

A longsword thrust forward at high speed.

Kaufman caught the longsword with his machete held at an diagonal angle, letting the blade slide along it. Before becoming a Ranger, Kaufman had been an Imperial soldier, skilled in Imperial swordsmanship. He simply hadn’t used a sword because sniping from afar was more effective.

However, Kaufman was a Ranger.

And Najin was a Sword Expert, nearly a Sword Seeker.

Though Kaufman might have the advantage in raw strength, Najin was superior in swordsmanship. Najin had witnessed firsthand the techniques of a Sword Master who had reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship. His eyes could clearly see the flaws in Kaufman’s techniques.

And seeing those flaws, there was no reason not to strike.

Najin’s sword, which had been sliding along the machete, suddenly twisted and wrapped around Kaufman’s blade. As the angle and direction of force changed in an instant, Kaufman’s eyes widened.

Swish!

Though Kaufman reflexively twisted his body, Najin’s sword still grazed his face. As blood sprayed, Kaufman clicked his tongue. I should avoid a pure sword duel.

Creating distance with a sliding motion, Kaufman threw a dagger. Clang, clang. As Najin deflected the flying dagger and stepped forward, Kaufman clashed his dagger and machete against Najin’s blade.

Seal release, magic bullet.

The target was the blue dagger in Kaufman’s hand.

The daggers that had bounced behind Najin began to glow blue and made a “tang” firing sound. Streams of blue light pummeled Najin’s back.

Thud-thud-thud-thud!

A blind spot. Magic bullets fired at high speed.

Though the spell wasn’t powerful enough to penetrate Najin’s body, the impact was enough to break his stance.

Collapsed posture. Staggering Najin.

A hunter would never miss such an opening.

Kaufman lunged forward and swung his machete. Just as the machete was about to strike Najin’s shoulder, Najin managed to move his body. Forcing his body to move despite the shock, a series of cracking sounds echoed.

Though he barely managed to block the sword, Kaufman wouldn’t let go of the momentum he’d gained. He kept pressing Najin relentlessly.

Not letting an opponent fight in their advantageous domain—that’s the basics of combat, and Kaufman had no intention of giving Najin a chance to properly display his techniques. The resulting battle resembled less of a sword duel and more of a brawl.

One moment he’d swing his sword, the next he’d kick out his foot, then strike with his elbow at the temple while kneeing his opponent. He freely wielded his sword, hands, and feet, sometimes throwing daggers to create variables.

Najin wasn’t just taking the punishment either.

Though his reactions had slowed due to accumulated injuries, his eyes were still accurately tracking Kaufman’s movements. He took hits he couldn’t avoid while protecting vital areas, and immediately seized the next opportunity.

Grab.

Najin snatched the momentum Kaufman had been holding and made it his own. If his opponent wanted a brawl, he had no intention of refusing.

‘You’re not the only one confident in this.’

Najin was confident in dogfights too.

After all, wasn’t he a hunting dog at his core?

Coincidentally, the humid air and darkness of the underground waterway reminded him of the underground city Attman. Memories of the past flashed through Najin’s mind.

Days of living hand to mouth. Fighting adults two or three times his size with bare hands just to survive—Najin recalled that past.

A dogfight? Fine. Come at me all you want.

Whether you’ll take my head first…

Or I’ll tear out your throat first…

That’s something we’ll have to find out now.

2.

As the dogfight continued, Kaufman felt something strange. To the eyes of a soldier who had been killing people on battlefields for over fifty years, this situation made no sense.

‘How is he even moving?’

Creating distance from the frantically charging Najin, Kaufman felt bewildered. From Kaufman’s perspective, Najin’s condition was like that of a walking corpse.

An arrowhead embedded in his abdomen. Skin burned from explosions. Pierced side and calf. Blood flowing freely from the holes, with arrows still stuck in his back and shoulder.

The minor injuries were too numerous to count. With such wounds, it wouldn’t be strange if he died from blood loss at any moment.

Of course, Kaufman had seen soldiers who, even on the brink of death, managed to take a few more enemies with them. But even they didn’t struggle this long. At most, they lasted a few dozen seconds.

But his current opponent?

Those few dozen seconds had long passed. It had been minutes now, and he was still swinging his sword properly. If anything, his speed seemed to have increased.

‘What the hell is this…?’

Stabbed by swords, caught in explosions, kicked around, yet he keeps getting up and charging.

Does he not feel pain? No, that didn’t seem right. Kaufman could see the blood seeping through Najin’s clenched teeth and tightly drawn jaw muscles.

He was literally gritting his teeth and enduring. The sight of someone closing the distance without hesitation despite such injuries was enough to make one’s skin crawl.

Kaufman marveled at such determination.

The excitement of battle. A state of extreme focus. Or perhaps it could be called immersion. Clang! As he blocked the sword right in front of his face, Kaufman met Najin’s gaze. Bloodshot eyes with pupils contracted to dots.

Eerie eyes that made observers feel pressured by their intensity. Kaufman let out a laugh of disbelief.

Slash!

Finally, Najin’s sword grazed Kaufman’s calf. Kaufman felt his own body gradually deteriorating. The wounds were increasing. There was a lot of bleeding. Now he too had to be wary of excessive blood loss.

He needed to end this.

He needed to risk his life to create a variable.

How long had it been since he’d been pushed into such a corner? The last time was probably during the operation to assassinate the Royal Guard who was trying to defect to another country…

For a moment, the scene from back then flashed through his mind.

Why was he remembering that now? The reason was simple. The trump card he had used then might be effective in this moment too. Kaufman moved his body while recalling the operation from over a decade ago.

Grab.

Kaufman gripped his dagger. He placed four remaining daggers between his fingers and struck them against the machete in his other hand. The four daggers glowed with a “keeeng” sound.

Najin flinched in response.

Having been hit several times by spell-engraved daggers, Najin was wary. Something was coming, but not knowing what it was, he couldn’t respond properly. Kaufman carried daggers with various engravings precisely to elicit this kind of reaction.

Due to the nature of spell engravings, one cannot know what kind of spell it is until it manifests. Of course, accomplished magicians can identify the type just by looking at the engravings on the blade, but…

‘This guy is just a swordsman.’

He wouldn’t have a deep understanding of magic. He’d probably prepare to counter based on the types he’d seen so far. By that point, he’d already be caught in the trap.

Spell engravings were Kaufman’s specialty traps.

And Kaufman had no intention of letting prey caught in his trap escape. As the daggers glowed and the spells were about to manifest, Kaufman threw two of the daggers.

Seal release, rupture.

An explosion erupted right in front of Najin’s face with a thunderous sound. Two explosions. Through the rising smoke, Najin appeared. He seemed to have reacted in that split second to minimize damage, with only his shoulders showing burn marks.

But there were still two more left.

Kaufman threw the remaining two daggers. As he threw them, Kaufman closed his eyes.

Seal release, flash.

Seal release, echo.

A blinding flash. And a noise that shook the eardrums. The more accomplished a warrior is, the more they tend to rely on their senses, keeping them razor-sharp. For such individuals, these spells are like natural enemies.

Spells that momentarily take away sight and hearing.

A trump card mixed among daggers with direct damage spells, designed to create variables. Even the renowned Royal Guard had fallen into this trap and lost his life.

‘You’ll be the same.’

Kaufman opened his eyes. Though he couldn’t hear, he had closed his eyes beforehand, so he could still see. And what entered his vision as he opened his eyes and swung his machete was…

The sight of Najin with his eyes already open.

Simultaneously, Kaufman saw a longsword extending straight forward, as if Najin had “already known” about Kaufman’s charging movement.

…How on earth?

The question barely had time to cross his mind.

Squelch.

The longsword pierced through Kaufman’s body.

Though he struggled to avoid the extended longsword, he couldn’t escape a fatal wound. As the longsword pierced his shoulder, Kaufman’s stance collapsed.

The long battle had been decided.

3.

Collapsed stance. Kaufman slipped on the blood on the floor and fell. One shoulder was deeply cut, and the other was completely pierced.

He was in no condition to wield anything anymore.

He might be able to throw a dagger with effort, but unfortunately, he had run out of engraved daggers. Kaufman let out a hollow laugh.

“You’re truly insane.”

Without the strength to get up, he sat on the floor and looked up at Najin. Najin was approaching Kaufman, holding a longsword dripping with blood.

He had been defeated.

The hunt had failed.

Kaufman had no intention of begging for his life. In the reverse situation, if his opponent begged for their life, he would only sneer and ignore them. He closed his eyes and lowered his head.

As if saying, if you’re going to behead me, do it.

But no matter how long he waited, the sword didn’t come down. He only heard the sound of a bottle being uncorked and something being drunk. When he raised his head, he saw Najin emptying a potion into his mouth.

“…What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why aren’t you killing me?”

“I will kill you, but I thought that could wait until I assess the situation.”

Najin exhaled deeply.

Steam was rising from his body. Kaufman frowned. The minor wounds were healing at a rapid pace, except for the penetrating injuries.

No matter how expensive a potion might be, such dramatic effects don’t normally occur.

What crossed his mind was homunculus.

A technology forbidden in the Empire. He thought of the biological weapons created by the mad men of the magic tower in the past, but then shook his head. Homunculi couldn’t converse as naturally as the young man before him.

And hadn’t the Empire’s Sword Master personally hunted down and killed the homunculi? It didn’t seem likely that any homunculus could have survived that terrifying old man’s sword.

“If you’re delaying killing me… should I interpret that as you having something to ask me?”

“You catch on quickly, which is good.”

“For someone saying that, you were aiming for my neck earlier.”

“If you died, you died. If you lived, I was going to ask questions.”

“Quite rational.”

The longsword pointed at his neck.

Kaufman smiled bitterly at the cold metal sensation. With the longsword aimed at Kaufman’s neck, Najin spoke. It was the story Kaufman had once told Najin.

“Even if I kill you, I should at least hear how you’ve lived, shouldn’t I?”

“That’s quite a morbid hobby.”

You’re one to talk.

Muttering that, Najin asked briefly:

“Were you sent by the Order?”