Crimson 3

This time, it was Crimson charging at Doyun.

Doyun backpedaled, drawing his sword behind his waist to chamber it. Wind coiled around the blade.

As the downward sword arc scraped the ground, kicking up the earth, winds began to stir.

[Războlnic’s Style Swordsmanship – Sword Wind]

Kaboooom—

The rain-soaked mud surged forth in a thick wave, engulfing Crimson and obscuring their view of each other. A tactic to disrupt the opponent’s senses while taking advantage of Doyun’s own perceptive edge – one Enoch often employed.

Yet Doyun sensed his attempt had failed once more.

Fwooooosh—

The mud wall erupted outward, Crimson’s figure appearing within the dispersing debris.

Even as mud splattered over it, Crimson’s emerald gaze never lost track of Doyun. His sensory disruption proved ineffective.

Boom—!

Crimson forcefully unleashed its Conquering Leg Aura, propelling its body forward at blistering speed.

A physical output ranking among the highest of Vanguard Commanders, far exceeding Doyun’s own pace.

With no room to evade, Doyun met the charge head-on, thrusting his sword forth as the blade tip flickered, bifurcating into multiple streams.

[Războlnic’s Style Swordsmanship – Blooming Thrust: Focused Single-Strike]

The numerous thrusting sword beams converged on Crimson like streaking rays of light.

Crimson’s eyeless gaze moved, its monochrome lens tracking each individual sword beam as if possessed of hundreds of apertures – more akin to a computer than a living being’s eyes.

Crimson extended its four arms, its spearheads splitting into multiple streams akin to Doyun’s sword beams. They unerringly clashed against and deflected every single streaking thrust.

[Crossed-Spears Four-Armed Style – Blooming Deflection: Focused Single-Strike]

Clang clang clang clang clang!

An immense cacophony of impacts overlapped as the countless spearheads swept aside the fully blossomed sword thrusts.

Doyun’s technique was nullified once more, the remaining thrusts piercing his body.

Splutch!

Accompanied by visceral tearing sounds, blood sprayed forth.

His formidable combat senses and localized acceleration narrowly pulled his body back while deflecting and parrying most of the spear strikes. Yet he could not avoid sustaining multiple wounds.

Doyun’s form was flung backwards through the air before slamming into the ground.

Spinning midair, he slowed his momentum by plunging his sword into the earth, his striking feet carving furrows into the ground.

After being repelled a considerable distance, Doyun landed in a crouched position, head bowed with sword braced against the ground.

“…”

Drip, drip.

Blood pattered like sweat. Just a few brief exchanges, yet he had already sustained considerable injuries.

Doyun raised his head, damp bangs obscuring his bleeding eyes.

“Huff…”

Closing his eyes, he exhaled while brushing aside the disheveled strands. Opening his black eyes, he gazed ahead.

Crimson stood there motionlessly.

‘Indeed…’

Despite their short clash, Doyun quickly reached a conclusion.

‘The Războlnic Style I’ve used so far cannot defeat it.’

Not only did it overwhelm him in sheer output, but its advantages in matchup rendered each of his techniques futile – every single move was a perfect counter to the Războlnic Style.

Crimson was truly a dedicated anti-Enoch Războlnic weapon.

Doyun swung his sword in a wide arc, shaking off the dirt on the blade.

“There’s something I’m curious about.”

[Speak.]

Even with Doyun before it, Crimson occasionally allowed him some leeway.

Doyun felt this behavior mirrored his own – pressing the opponent while gleaning information through brief exchanges.

“The Demon Lord I knew lacked the resources to create something like you.”

[The feeling is mutual. I too have doubts.]

“Oh?”

[According to the data, you could never defeat the previous Demon Lord. Simulations showed them achieving over 98% victory rates against you.]

“…What are you talking about?”

[What trick did you employ, Răzvolnic.]

They failed to understand each other’s words.

Doyun had clearly defeated the Demon Lord, plunging his blade into her heart. But Crimson was saying otherwise.

It seemed unlikely that Crimson’s data was inaccurate. Even from their brief clash, Doyun could tell – when it came to Enoch, Crimson possessed perfect data and analytical capabilities.

Yet it had analyzed that Enoch could not defeat the Demon Lord.

‘…Wait.’

His thoughts spiraled further.

The Demon Lord Doyun had fought lacked the power to create something like Crimson. And Crimson had analyzed that Enoch could not defeat the Demon Lord.

From this evidence, one hypothesis crossed Doyun’s mind:

‘The Demon Lord… did not fight at full strength?’

Had she simply offered her neck? But why?

Suddenly, the blind elven seer’s prophecy resurfaced in his memory.

‘I cannot… see.’

‘This old man’s eyes cannot perceive the causalities wrought by divine intervention beyond the clouds… the workings of deities.’

‘The Demon Lord, and Lord Enoch. At least… Lord Enoch is not a deity. It would seem the Demon Lord of this era has ascended to the ranks of the divine.’

‘I cannot offer… hope. Forgive me…’

‘…’

Doyun’s thoughts were in turmoil.

Crimson’s emerald eyes detected Doyun’s distress.

[What are you doing?]

When Doyun regained focus, Crimson stood right before him.

Thwack—

A heavy spear shaft slammed into Doyun’s side, reopening previous wounds and splattering blood.

Kaboooom!

Doyun’s body was flung through the air before crashing into the ground.

[Allowing your mind to wander with your bane before you.]

“…”

Using his sword for support, Doyun struggled to his feet.

At that moment, a rasping voice came from behind.

“Need some help?”

“No.”

Through the damp, disheveled bangs obscuring his vision, Doyun’s black eyes fixed on Crimson once more.

“Not needed.”

“So it seems.”

The man who had spoken, Vyuskr, quietly took a seat on a boulder, content to simply observe the fight.

Despite his friend’s evident disadvantage, he showed not a shred of urgency.

Crimson’s emerald gaze flickered, seemingly unable to comprehend their behavior.

[…What are they doing.]

That skeleton had undoubtedly been the one who had unexpectedly intervened earlier, single-handedly engaging the Jester.

His presence here implied he had certainly beheaded the Jester – an unaccounted for, enigmatic powerhouse to be wary of.

If he joined Doyun in a combined assault, Crimson’s prospects would rapidly deteriorate. Naturally, it had been on high alert initially.

Yet their current demeanor was perplexing. As if convinced Doyun would inevitably triumph.

Doyun himself had not seemed fully committed to the battle from the start. According to the data, he was indeed exerting his remaining strength, but his various non-verbal cues did not register the emotional state of one facing death.

“You should shave your head. It’s quite liberating without hair.”

“Even as the Alliance’s figurehead, a handsome appearance helps garner public support, you know.”

“You must be weary.”

Crimson, reciting such casual lines in its artificial monotone, felt its database fluctuate for the first time – the unfamiliar sensation of discomfort.

[Do you not grasp the situation?]

Doyun and Vyuskr, engaged in their flippant banter, turned their gazes towards it. Doyun then lowered his head, using his sword’s flat side to wipe the mud from his clothes.

Crimson’s grip tightened around its spear shaft until its knuckles whitened.

Instead of the preoccupied Doyun, Vyuskr responded.

“Yeah. Right now… you do have the upper hand. Situations like this occurred frequently in the past. But…”

Vyuskr’s empty black sockets looked towards Doyun.

“He always ended up winning in the end.”

The Enoch he had witnessed could always turn the impossible into reality.

To Vyuskr, this four-armed puppet paled in comparison to the ‘impossibilities’ they had already overcome.

It was an inexplicable power born from the most valiant man’s unwavering will – something data alone could never quantify.

However, Crimson was an artificial lifeform solely reliant on its database and analysis. Having been created barely a week ago, it naturally could not comprehend Vyuskr’s words.

[What are you saying…]

“Hey.”

Doyun called out to Crimson as he wiped his blade clean.

“Do you know Satan’s whereabouts?”

[…Why is that important?]

A question unrelated to their current battle – an extremely forward-looking inquiry concerning matters after the fight.

It inherently presumed Doyun would survive past this encounter.

Crimson clenched its fists, trembling with mounting discomfort.

“You don’t know?”

[You have no need to know that.]

“Seems you don’t. Very well then.”

That had been the last piece of information Doyun intended to extract from Crimson. There was no longer any reason to keep it alive – no further need for probing.

Doyun wiped the dirt from his necklace.

“You claim to know everything about me.”

[Yes. Everything.]

“Then…”

He brushed back his hair.

“Did you know that I’m a Regression Turner?”

Doyun’s eyes blazed golden.