episode_0013

“Impressive. That was power befitting a high priest or beyond.”

Though Durahan praised the divine magic with admiration, Arina frowned in dissatisfaction. With her remaining mana, she could wield the Sword of Judgment only three or four more times—maybe. Any more than that, and she’d risk mana exhaustion.

This time, she had hoped to inflict damage severe enough to slow him down, but Durahan still seemed unshaken.

Repeating the same tactic would be difficult.

Creaaaaak! Once more, chains burst forth, attempting to bind Durahan. But this time, he wrapped the chains around his arm and yanked.

Skreeeeech! The screech of grinding metal tore through the air. Clang-clang-clang! The chains shattered like broken glass, scattering into nothingness.

“So, you were just letting me hit you earlier?”

“You’re fighting in an unfamiliar style, so consider it a handicap. Or call it a test of strength, if you prefer.”

“Keep acting smug, and you’ll regret it later.”

The blatant admission that he’d been holding back stung Arina’s pride. But worse than that was the humiliation of knowing she couldn’t guarantee victory even with a handicap.

“Good. That’s exactly what I hoped for. Surpass my expectations, Liel Frost.”

Without hesitation—as if exhilarated—Durahan moved faster. His greatsword descended toward Arina’s skull.

This time, Arina deflected his strike cleanly with a pre-prepared mana shield. Using magic for defense and divine power for offense. Two formulas, two energies—like solving a math problem with one hand while drawing with the other.

Even with her brilliant mind, the mental overload was palpable, but she barely kept control.

“Keh heh heh. You might be the only person in the world insane enough to fight like this.”

“You think I want to fight this way?”

“But you’ll do whatever it takes. That’s what makes you worth keeping alive. A shame to kill you now.”

“Stop making me repeat myself. You’re the one dying today.”

The whisper of wind brushed Durahan’s ears. He scanned his surroundings. This cave was deep underground—far removed from the surface where wind could ever reach. There was only one explanation.

As he turned back toward Arina, his vision was filled with a blinding white storm.

A blizzard raged inside the cavern. The snow compressed into massive chunks, trapping Durahan inside. Though the packed snow froze solid in the frigid air, it was still just snow. One swing of his sword shattered it into swirling flurries.

In a blizzard where visibility was near zero, a warrior was at a natural disadvantage. Knowing this from countless battles, Durahan charged forward, carving his way out.

Zap!

“Ghk—?!”

A golden lightning bolt pierced through his chest. Another of the modern Saintess’s divine techniques. Even the Lord of Death was paralyzed for a brief moment under the authority of this sacred lightning.

Durahan expanded his sensory field, detecting mana. Within the blizzard, he could trace the erratic flow of Arina’s mana—scattered magic bouncing back to reveal her presence. A basic technique for any adept mana user, so he caught on immediately.

And because of that, he understood her plan.

She intends to trap me in the blizzard and bombard me from afar.

Deny visibility, pinpoint my location, then bombard from a safe distance. A tactic suited for war—conducted by a single mage.

“Your skill is astounding. But—”

Durahan deemed this a mistake. Summoning a blizzard of this scale while also maintaining mana detection? There’s no way she could simultaneously cast something as enormous as the Sword of Judgment.

With this level of wasteful spending, she’d run out of mana in no time.

From his perspective, he only needed to endure until she wore herself out. This situation favored him.

Zap! Sensing another bolt, Durahan deflected it with his sword.

“Pointless. I’d hate for this to end in such a dull manner—you drained dry before I can even cut you down. Release this magic now.”

Wary that his long-awaited duel with Arina might end anticlimactically, Durahan lowered his sword.

Six years since Liel Frost vanished from the battlefield. Even if her combat instincts had dulled, it wouldn’t be surprising.

It was in that moment of carelessness that Durahan left himself open.

From above, the blizzard parted—and the Sword of Judgment plunged down from the sky.

“What—?!”

The colossal golden blade cleaved down as if to split Durahan in half. Boooom! A storm of divine energy erupted, engulfing everything around him.

As the golden tempest and blizzard faded, Arina stood revealed, smirking.

“Pointless, you said?”

“How could you wield magic and divine power simultaneously like that? You couldn’t have done that years ago!”

“That was years ago. Plenty of time for growth, don’t you think?”

Only now did Durahan realize his fundamental error. Liel Frost wasn’t weaker. She had surpassed her past self.

“Seems I never needed to hold back from the start.”

“What, finally feeling a bit of regret for acting all pompous earlier?”

“Hardly.”

As he spoke, ghostly white flames erupted along Durahan’s greatsword—flames that burned like hundreds of screaming skulls.

Arina clicked her tongue internally. The Flame of Souls, incinerating spirits—a power of the Lord of Death. The moment it touches you, death is certain. Only a Saintess or a high priest of comparable strength could resist.

No matter how much of a genius she was, healing a scorched soul was beyond her.

Meaning even a graze is game over.

Unfair conditions, but fighting the Demon King’s army had always been like this. Battling inhuman monsters defying all reason—that was the job of a hero’s party.

Then she’d just hit him with the Sword of Judgment before he struck. The real fight started now. Now that Durahan had drawn the Flame of Souls, she’d need an even more airtight plan.

But Durahan didn’t charge blindly this time. Instead, he raised his sword from a distance.

And with the Flame of Souls unleashed, that was all he needed.

Whooosh! As Durahan swung down, fire erupted along the path of his blade, tearing through the earth. Arina blocked the advancing flames with another mana shield.

But it wasn’t enough.

The Flame of Souls ranked among the most lethal attacks in this world. In an instant, devouring her shield, setting her very mana aflame.

“Hah.”

Arina exhaled sharply, having barely dodged. She retaliated with a blast of frost, freezing the air around her. Countless ice crystals bloomed over Durahan’s armor like flowers, binding him in a lattice of frost.

“Another binding spell. Running out of tricks?”

Crash!!

Durahan flexed and shattered the icy restraints.

“…Huh?”

Though he broke free easily, it was Durahan who seemed unsettled. From the fractured ice, new flowers sprouted—thicker, stronger, coiling around him tighter than before.

“Different this time. Flowers bloom again, don’t they? An ever-regenerating binding spell. Struggle, and it tightens.”

“You’ve picked up some nasty tricks.”

“Spare me the mentor act. It’s disgusting.”

Seizing the moment, Arina gathered mana once more.

If I get hit again, it’s over.

Durahan wreathed himself in the Flame of Souls. The ice melted away as steam filled the air. Before the frost could fully fade, Arina dropped another golden greatsword.

At the last possible moment, Durahan jerked back—

Boom! The attack struck empty ground, exploding violently.

“Missed?”

Though faceless, his mocking grin was palpable. Confident in victory, he rested his sword on his shoulder, eyes gleaming crimson.

A warrior’s stance against a mage—never give them room to breathe. Remembering this principle, Durahan lunged.

Each Sword of Judgment drained mana severely. If he dodged it, Arina’s defeat—her death—was assured.

Yet no despair showed on her face. Instead, she grinned, eyes gleaming.

“Right. And this was all part of the plan.”

Arina pressed her thumb and forefinger together just as Durahan passed over the spot where the sword had struck earlier.

Snap.

A clear, resonant ping—and the ground erupted.

“Magic?!”

Kaboom! A pillar of light liquefied the earth, plunging Durahan into a deeper chasm. Crrrrack! Shattering bedrock, he crumpled at the pit’s base.

“Game over, Durahan. From here on, I control this fight.”

“I see. That wasn’t divine magic—just an imitation. A delayed explosive spell.”

For the first time since becoming undead, Durahan felt something like a chill. Though the difference was just terrain, in the dynamic between warrior and mage, it was everything.

Desperate to escape, Durahan kicked off the walls, leaping upward—

“[Domain of the Moon].”

With a graceful wave, Arina reshaped the battlefield.

The dusty cavern vanished, replaced by an eerily still nightscape—a serene lake reflecting a flawless full moon.

Moonlight condensed into a single point as Arina raised her hand.

“[Lunar Radiance].”

A hyper-fast spell streaked through the air—drilling into Durahan mid-leap, slamming him back down.

Thud! His armored form cratered violently into the earth.

“Ghk.”

No lasting damage, but physics still applied. This was terrain’s advantage. No matter how many times he tried escaping, Arina would just slam him back down.

Smirking down at him, she clasped her hands in prayer.

“A prayer of gratitude to your god? I hadn’t realized you were so devout.”

“No. A funeral prayer—for you.”

Zzzzt! The golden sword leveled squarely at Durahan. Trapped in a deep crevice, there was nowhere left to dodge.

The relentless warrior raised his sword regardless.

The mage, hands still clasped, completed the invocation.

The sword swung—

To purge evil with divine wrath.