Lynox felt the invisible force constricting his body and lightly clashed the two swords in his hands.
He used the sword in his right hand as a brace and lightly tapped it with the sword in his left.
Ching!
A faint metallic friction rang out like a sharp blade cutting through a storm.
The small sound was quickly buried by the storm’s howling roar, but sound wasn’t the point anyway.
He wasn’t trying to sense anything through sound.
His specialty was waves—Will-infused resonance—so the clash of the two swords emitted a wave detectable only to Lynox himself.
That wave was the secret technique that gave him the best scouting ability in all of Zaun.
‘Look at these bastards.’
Just like that, he immediately located three Scalors manipulating telekinesis. All three were reaching toward him, with a large Scalor with a sturdy body blocking their front.
They moved in pairs, perfectly in sync, as if they'd been trained.
‘Did you train them, Hescal?’
Could monsters even be trained? He was curious, but it didn’t seem like he’d get an answer. A sudden premonition told him as much.
Lynox threw the sword in his right hand into the ground.
Thunk.
Half the blade buried itself in the earth.
Using the embedded sword as a scabbard, he drew the third sword strapped to his back and threw it with force.
With a slicing sound, the sword—about the length of a forearm—flew straight forward.
No matter how fierce the storm, it couldn’t stop a chunk of steel thrown by a Knight’s strength.
Clack!
The large Scalor caught the flying sword in midair.
Its scales were impressive in both hardness and durability, but more astonishing was its ability to intercept a weapon thrown from afar.
“Bullshit.”
Lynox then pulled his outstretched hand back.
Crack.
The sword ripped itself from the Scalor’s grip and flew back to him. His swords were ones that returned when called.
Whoosh, thud.
The spinning blade landed back in Lynox’s palm. The ones using telekinesis continued their meddling. He found the restraining force annoying.
It wasn’t enough to stop him entirely, but it was definitely irritating. Lynox threw the retrieved sword again.
But this time, he didn’t stop at just throwing it. Leaving the embedded sword alone, he drew a new one from his right shoulder.
It looked like a regular longsword at first glance, but upon closer inspection, it had no edge. It resembled a practice sword.
As he lowered it, the tip touched the ground.
Rrrrrrk!
He began running, and a long trench formed in the ground behind him. Though the storm would soon erase it, it marked his charge.
This time, the large Scalor didn’t catch the blade—it blocked with the back of its hand.
The sword bit into the scales but didn’t pierce through. It used its fist as a shield.
Whether by good judgment or combat instinct, it was impressive.
Using its left hand to block and right hand to grip the blade, the monster clearly intended to prevent Lynox from summoning it back.
But this time, the sword’s owner charged right in.
Smack!
A double-strike tactic—throw and charge—was one of Lynox’s specialties.
But closing the distance wasn’t all. The sword he had first thrown was named Prey. The sword he now held in his right hand was called Hunter.
Prey always did its best to escape from Hunter. The blunted longsword traced a short arc as it thrust forward.
Clang! Boom!
Since Hunter was meant to strike Prey, it didn’t need a sharp edge.
It slammed into the pommel area of Prey, unleashing a wave that sent it hurtling forward at double its previous speed.
Boom!
Like an arrow-sized blade slicing through the air and storm, Prey split open the head of the large Scalor, sending blood and flesh flying into the storm.
Prey had actually been aiming for the telekinetic user behind the shield monster. Piercing through the forearm, it burst the head of the foe directly behind.
The attempted block with both hands was futile.
Once Hunter was drawn, Prey would no longer respond to summoning. This was a usage of the knight’s vow through engraved weapons.
One of Lynox’s secret techniques. Everyone has at least one move that’s hard to use in sparring, right?
With another paired sword in his left hand, he slashed off the neck of the Scalor with only half a head.
Slice, thud.
He didn’t use much force, yet the cut was clean. Considering the durability of a Scalor’s body, this should have been impossible.
But Lynox’s blade had several times the cutting power of a regular sword. The downside was that even though they were engraved weapons, they broke often.
Still, he compensated for that with technique.
He even modified his swordsmanship to make the most of his weapons’ strengths.
His style used sharpness to wear down opponents by glancing off their blades. It wasn’t a common technique even within Zaun.
“Next one.”
Lynox sheathed Hunter and reached out his hand. Once Hunter was retrieved, Prey returned to him.
Reacting to the Will in his hand, Prey shivered and flew back into his grasp.
Prey only flew, returned, or got struck by Hunter. That was all it could do. That’s why he had modified its tip.
The tip of Prey was made of true silver, specially crafted and diamond-coated. It was expensive, hard to make, and easily broken if misused.
But Lynox only used it for stabbing or throwing. Prey was basically more of a blunt weapon than a blade.
His entire tactic was unusual and unique—a complete deviation from the norm.
Using the same strategy, he took down the remaining two Scalors restraining his body.
Then, as he returned to the sword he’d stuck in the ground, he struck down a flying monster targeting the family head’s back with Prey.
In the meantime, Tempest Zaun crushed three monsters with a single massive swing.
He slammed them headfirst into the ground with the flat of his sword.
The Owlbear’s head and upper body shattered, torn apart, and washed away in the rain-soaked mud.
Watching that, Lynox clashed his swords again.
Thud!
A concentrated wave lets you see farther than a wide one. Lynox used this to check on Encrid. Having grasped the situation through the waves, he muttered,
“I should’ve gone there.”
He saw the trap Hescal had set. The bait and misdirection hinted at a calculated counter.
‘Is there still time?’
He didn’t know.
Encrid of the Border Guard—a friend with a promising future. The kind who might overcome even Hescal’s cunning trap.
Swaaaaaa.
The rain remained steady, but the wind had weakened. Though the downpour hadn’t eased, it was noticeably better than before.
“What’s in front of us isn’t easy either.”
At Tempest’s words, Lynox looked ahead.
Then suddenly, a bitter, acidic bile rose in his throat and he vomited onto the ground. No storm could hide the blood mixed into that vomit.
“I can’t last much longer.”
Lynox said as he smeared it away with his foot.
The medicine Ann had given him kept his body going, but it had limits. That’s why he deliberately fought ahead of Alexandra and Tempest.
He drew the enemies with special abilities to himself by going all out.
But it came at a steep price. He might’ve made it look easy, but each monster had been a formidable foe.
And he had to keep using wave detection due to enemies hiding their presence.
“This won’t be your grave, Lyn.”
Tempest said, adjusting his stance. Ahead, four monsters approached with heavy steps.
Boom!
A flash of lightning illuminated the darkness. Even with little light, a Knight’s eyes could make out shapes, but the lightning made it unmistakably clear.
Four Scalors.
They had black and red scales mixed evenly.
In Lynox’s experience, the more red scales they had, the stronger their supernatural abilities. That meant these four were worse than any he’d fought so far.
Up until now, the worst he’d seen was one with a single red-scaled arm.
“Tempe, it’s time to keep that promise from when we were kids.”
Lynox had no foresight, but he knew one thing:
Even if he survived this battle, there was no surviving beyond it.
“If I just had half a year, I could fix you. But in this condition...”
That’s what Ann had said after diagnosing him and feeding him various medicines.
Yeah. He already knew.
Ever since Lynox had been struck by that bastard Hescal, his condition had worsened rapidly.
His fever spiked, his heart ached, and he coughed up blood as though his internal organs were torn apart.
“Damn, I think I might actually die.”
He had joked at first, but deep down, he knew this was likely the end for him.
What was left now? Many things, but at that moment, what came to mind was a promise from their youth.
That if either of them were to die, it should be him before Tempest.
Hadn’t they sworn to that?
It was a vow they’d made as friends who once fought over the same woman and had been together since birth.
“You go help Alex.”
Tempest couldn’t show emotion, so he simply put sincerity into his voice.
“No need!”
Somehow, Alexandra, more than ten paces away, shouted back.
In front of her, black smoke swirled and from among the monster corpses, a hand clad in dark metal gauntlet crawled out.
A Death Knight.
The pinnacle of necromancy, made from the corpse of a Knight.
Even the lower rank Death Warriors were nightmares to most—so a Death Knight was fear itself.
“I go first. You’re the head of the house.”
Lynox said again, and Tempest briefly glanced at his wife. She responded,
“Believe in me, Tempe. I’m Blitzklinge, the Lightning Blade.”
Yes, there was a time when Tempest didn’t even dare to challenge her.
“Support Lynox. I’ll say it again—this won’t be your grave.”
He had to endure. That was the resolve he needed.
The head of the house believed that every battle had its own flow. Victory came when the tides turned. Until then, they had to hold on.
Four Scalors stood before Tempest and Lynox.
Two wielded short clubs, while the other two had Katars in both hands.
A Katar was a piercing weapon with a horizontal grip between two parallel bars and a pointed blade.
From their weapons, the two Knights could infer the monsters’ tactics.
Their gear was short, their muscles densely packed, and the rain bounced off their scales.
Their main strength would be using knight-level physical prowess for close-range strikes. Their weapons were likely poisoned as well.
“Hoo...”
Tempest calmed his breath.
As much as his wife believed in him, he had to show that same trust in her.
“Just guard my back, Lynox.”
Far off in the distance, Medusa watched the battlefield. Because of that, part of Tempest’s Will was being restrained.
He lowered his head to avoid Medusa’s gaze—just enough to see the enemies’ feet. From a young age, he had trouble picking up varied skills.
But he had strength enough to wield massive, heavy swords. That much hadn’t changed.
Tempest Zaun raised his greatsword diagonally into the air. He was ready.
As Lynox stood behind him in support, a familiar voice came from among the four Scalors.
A message from Hescal, sent through some spell or ritual.
“Tempe, these four are special monsters. Chimeras among chimeras, prepared specifically to face Knights. The masterpiece of an alchemical genius and the previous monster, crafted over seventy years.”
A sudden explanation out of nowhere.
“Be held down by them. I’ll go kill your son. I don’t know where you’ve hidden Odinkar, but I will find him.”
Hescal had read part of the family head’s heart. That was how he could shake him.
Lynox felt a flicker of anxiety and glanced at the head of the house, but he remained unmoved.
His emotions didn’t show. That was his weakness, but in moments like this, it became an unshakable mask.
The voice vanished from the air—then the four Scalors stomped the ground.
Smack.
Lynox narrowed his eyes and turned his back, avoiding Medusa’s gaze. From now on, it was his job to guard his friend’s back.
Even if something boiled inside and made him nauseous, he had to endure it. If he didn’t, he’d lose his head.
“You’ve always been talking about the next step since you were a child.”
Andante was also a long-time friend of Alexandra. And now that friend had risen again, defying death’s peace, with black blood filling her veins.
She had lost her mind, driven only by combat instinct. Andante, her old friend, had refused both love and children. All she sought was the next stage—to rise higher.
“What’s next? I can go further.”
A dream easily corrupted by twisted desire. But within Zaun, it was a dream one could carry. Looking at her now, though, it was safe to call it a failure.
“I’ll surpass you someday, Alex.”
The one who held her back was Alexandra.
No empire or continent could allow someone with a natural-born killing instinct to roam freely.
Once a month, Andante had to cut something with red blood. At least once every three months, she needed to kill someone.
She always craved murder.
“Now you can kill to your heart’s content, Andante.”
Alexandra said.
Ssssshhk—
The Death Knight, born from a monster’s corpse, didn’t speak. Instead, black steam spewed from within the visor thick with soot.
Not even the storm could disperse that steam, which clung around its helmet. It wasn’t some mystical scene.
It was the kind of sight that chilled one’s legs with sheer terror.
When a Knight died drunk on power and their death was deceived by a wizard, they became a Death Knight.
A being far more powerful in death than they were in life. This would never be an easy fight.
This was the blade Hescal had prepared specifically for Alexandra.
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