Fights between rcenaries were always impulsive. When they’re on a job, they would coldly calculate profit and loss, but when they were off the clock, they would draw their weapons over the pettiest squabble.
In an industry where one proved their worth through force, staying quiet when soone challenged pride only cheapened their own value. Any challenges had to be t head-on, one way or another.
Gustav gripped his zweihander tight, channeling his Aura to burn away the last of the alcohol fogging his mind.
With a hiss, pale steam rose off his bronze skin. The pressure he gave off was so nacing that even the rcenaries who’d co with Jero instinctively stepped back.
Gustav, leader of his rcenaries, was in the upper tier of B-ranks—already brushing against A-rank.
“Lead the way,” he said to Jero.
“Still barking orders at ?” Jero snapped.
Unlike his underlings, Jero hadn’t lost his composure. His mocking tone dripped with contempt.
Gustav, on the other hand, answered without the slightest ripple, “Look at you, coming here itching for a fight—yet you don’t even have the spine to step forward first? Scavenger.”
“Hah!” The smirk vanished from Jero’s face as he growled, “How many tis have I told you not to call that?”
“Are you joking?” Gustav sneered, snorting at the threat.
“What did you say?”
“You want to disrespect all you want, but I can’t give it back? I wondered why you’d co picking a fight for once—turns out it’s just your mouth running again.”
“Follow .”
Murderous intent glinted dark in Jero’s eyes. He too was a captain of a high B-rank squad. If he backed down now, he’d be branded a coward without a doubt.
Their n split into two groups and spilled out of the tavern to witness the duel between Gustav and Jero—two rcenary captains, both hovering near A-rank. In an instant, the tavern’s patrons turned into spectators, gathering by the hundreds to ring them like a coliseum wall.
“Hm. Sothing’s off,” Hal muttered.
“What is?”
Leon spun around right away. Hal was an archer with Steel Claw and an ex-ranger. His senses were never to be ignored.
Hal answered as if he’d been waiting for the question, “Jero’s picked fights with our captain plenty of tis, but he’s never co right out like this asking for a duel. If they really went all-out, who’d win was obvious.”
“So there’s that big of a gap between them?” Leon asked.
“Yeah. Their weapons don’t match up well either. On top of that, Jero’s always been known for chasing easy pickings.”
That’s how he got the nickna Scavenger, referring to a beast that scavenges corpses. Avoiding impossible fights was smart, but always hunting the weak is sothing else entirely.
What glory is there for a man who only preys on the helpless?
“So his challenge is rather out of the blue...” Leon muttered.
“Mhm.”
Hal wasn’t the only one who thought so. Other rcenaries muttered the sa, eyes narrowed—certain Jero was scheming sothing.
Only Gustav brushed aside their concerns with a flat voice as the edge of his polished zweihander glead dully.
“Don’t worry. I’ll win.”
With that, he stepped forward into the arena, a fifteen-ter clearing ringed by the crowd. The mont the two n faced each other, the chattering audience fell silent.
A deadly tension filled the air—enough to raise goosebumps on the back of the neck. The rcenaries felt it too, faces stiffening. They all sensed it: soone would bleed here tonight.
Gustav spoke first.
“Rules?”
“Lose if you die or surrender. Use only what you hold and your bare hands—no artifacts.”
“Fine by .”
Neither took their eyes off the other as they each backed up four steps, squaring up. If either turned their backs to walk away, that opening would be their death.
Unlike a knight’s honorable duel, this was different. There’d be no starting signal.
Soone swallowed with an audible gulp, and that alone was enough of a signal. The two n lunged at each other.
“Hup!”
Gustav slashed first. His zweihander, nearly 2.3 ters long, reached Jero first. The massive blade cut the air with a whoosh, swinging far faster than its size should allow.
It was a strike so powerful it barely qualified as a slash. If Jero took it head-on, he wouldn’t just block it; he would shatter with it.
A deafening tallic crash split the air as Jero’s twin blades struck the zweihander’s flat, deflecting its edge to the side. It was a perfect deflection, sothing Jero could never have pulled off before.
“Look at you, charging in like a damn boar!” Jero shouted as he pounced on the opening, his twin blades slashing in a whirlwind.
Jero wielded a pair of Falcata, single-edged blades used like axes, with masterful ease. They were heavy towards the tip, so their force peaked when cleaving with the forward edge.
Sparks flew where they struck Gustav’s zweihander. The twin blades blurred, seemingly splitting into eight, and even more phantom edges than the eye could count.
It was a clash of power and speed. Gustav would carve out control with one decisive swing while Jero would slash ten tis to pry open a gap.
An immovable boulder versus a ceaseless wave—their polar opposite styles clashed head-on, dazzling the onlookers. Only fighters B-rank and up could follow the full rhythm of their exchange.
“You’ve improved a decent bit, Jero!” Gustav said and laughed as he swung fiercely.
His blood, fired up by the fight, sharpened his mind. A steel-gray Aura engulfed his zweihander. His Aura attribute was Steal, a special ground-type pronounced in both attack and defense.
“Don’t you dare look down on , you bastard!” Jero snapped back.
To him, that praise was an insult. He roared in fury, and the twin blades turned deep navy as the Wave, a special water-type attribute, flooded them, amplified by their master’s rage.
The next flurry was several tis fiercer than before. A sweeping slash and an X-shaped crosscut collided. The shockwave tore through the clearing, shoving back the spectators who’d edged too close without realizing.
Any closer, and skin would have been ripped open.
“Gah!”
When the clash ended, it was Jero who’d been forced back. Blood trickled down his forearms, dripping from hands that must’ve torn under the strain of gripping his twin blades.
Unable to hide his shock, Jero scread in a frenzy, “Impossible! Did your mother really shack up with an ogre or sothing?!”
“That mouth of yours really won’t shut up until you’re dead, huh?”
Enraged by the insult, Gustav leveled his blade at him. He had the upper hand, but he hadn’t completely overpowered Jero. If he lost his composure now, the tide could easily turn.
Though still furious, part of him couldn’t help but admire Jero’s growth. To close the gap this far in just a few months—he must have driven himself rcilessly.
“Whatever your reason for picking this fight, let’s end it here. Any further and one of us won’t be walking away.”
“Damn right! And that one’s gonna be you!”
Unlike Gustav, Jero was itching to see it through to the bitter end. He was dead set on a real fight to the death; the murderous pressure rolling off him didn’t fade, it only swelled.
Yet his eyes, in contrast, had gone cold and sharp.
“I didn’t think I’d still be losing after all this. I really underestimated you. From here on—I’m going all out,” Jero muttered.
“What?”
Gustav was genuinely taken aback. He still had more power hidden away? Logically, it should have been a bluff—but Jero’s eyes were dead serious.
And then, he saw it.
“Hm?”
Was it his imagination? Gustav thought he saw Jero’s pupils flare crimson for an instant. A montary change, gone so fast he couldn’t be sure, and no one else watching noticed a thing.
Right after that, Jero moved. Twin streaks of navy lightning exploded forward.
Gustav instinctively raised his greatsword, but his body was pushed back in a straight line. The speed and power were in a different league now.
Gustav couldn’t keep up with Jero’s movents that stretched into blurs. Only Leon, using Rodrick’s Vision, could properly track that speed.
Leon thought, His form’s a bit sloppy, but that speed’s on par with Karen’s...!
Leon couldn’t figure out how, but Jero had broken into A-rank territory. Gustav, still only upper B-rank, couldn’t handle that speed at all.
In an instant, the tide of the duel shifted. Speed had always been Jero’s advantage and now it had multiplied, far beyond what Gustav could deal with.
A blade scraped past Gustav’s greatsword and carved into his shoulder.
“Keugh...!”
No, it wasn’t just his shoulder. In that fleeting mont, three strikes grazed him, and blood gushed from his thigh and flank.
More blood sprayed from countless cuts on Gustav’s body. Even after falling back into a defensive stance, he could barely hold his ground. A pool of blood was already forming at his feet.
Jero’s relentless fury showed that he had no intention to let Gustav yield. Each slash chipped away at Gustav bit by bit with only death in his mind.
“Captain!”
Unable to stand by, Hansen moved to break in, but Jero’s n—the Wolf Fang rcenaries—blocked his path.
“Hey now, you know better than to butt into a duel.”
They had their weapons out, ready to fight if needed. There were four of them, the sa as Hansen’s crew.
Like Steel Claw, they were elite B-rank rcenaries. With the duel’s honor on Jero’s side and no clear power gap between the two rcenary groups, Hansen and the others could only grit their teeth, unable to act.
anwhile, the situation turned more and more against Gustav.
A slanted cut sent a fresh burst of blood spraying. He’d dodged barely in ti to avoid a vital spot, but the cut was still deep.
Gustav staggered from the dizziness but forced himself to stand. Jero snickered at the sight, shaking off the blood from his blades.
“Hahaha! Go on, big man—talk tough again! If you drop to your knees and beg, maybe I’ll let you live, how about it?”
“You...!”
“What’s that glare gonna do? Look down at your feet. Looks like you’ve spilled a whole bucket by now. How much longer you think you’ll last, huh?”
Jero’s eyes glowed red as he mocked Gustav. The thick scent of blood tickled his nose, and gazing at all that warm, life-rich blood made his true nature stir awake.
His once-calm breathing turned ragged and harsh, and his deep navy aura began to tint faintly crimson. El-Cid sensed the foul shift instantly.
—Leon. Raise high and release your Aura’s light, now!
Leon didn’t hesitate for a second. He drew his sword from his hip and thrust it skyward. Confused faces turned to stare at him.
Only the two fighters were too focused to notice but both the Wolf Fang and SteelClaw rcenaries gawked at him. As all eyes locked on Leon, he poured power into the blade.
With a flash, a warm radiance of the fusion between the Sun Aura and the purifying light flared out in all directions. Not so blinding as to burn the eyes—but enough to wash away filth and push back the night’s darkness.
It was a manifestation distinct from a normal Aura Weapon. To most, it was nothing more than comforting light, but Leon trusted El-Cid’s word that it ant sothing.
Huh?
Sure enough—
“Gyaaaaagh!”
“It burns! My body’s burning up!”
“Hot! So damn hot! Argh!”
The Wolf Fang rcenaries fell to the ground, howling and flailing. So clawed at their own skin as if to tear it off; others rolled on the dirt, scrambling for a shadow where the light couldn’t reach. To any normal onlooker, it looked like utter madness.
And Jero was no different.
“Guuh...!”
Spewing black smoke from his body, Jero fixed blood-red eyes on Leon—only to collapse where he stood, twitching helplessly like a worm on a searing griddle.
“What the hell just happened...?”
Even Leon, who’d done it, stamred in bewildernt. He’d only followed El-Cid’s instructions—he had no clue why it worked.
Why would a re touch of light make rcenaries seize up in agony? Why did Jero, who’d brushed A-rank for a mont, go down in seconds?
Countless questions buzzed through his mind when El-Cid explained as if this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
—What’s so hard to understand? They’re all Dhampirs. Against your Aura and my holy power, they didn’t stand a chance.
“Dhampirs? The hell is that?”
—Beings on the boundary between vampires and humans. Half-bloods, basically. They can walk in sunlight, but they weaken badly in it—and grow far stronger in the night’s darkness. That’s how that bastard overwheld the big guy.
Leon tilted his head at the unexpected explanation.
Dhampirs—so they’re connected to vampires after all?
—Most likely.
Seriously... the rumor we talked about while being sloshed just fell into our laps.
One thing was clear—he now had a ss to sort out.
Jero and the Wolf Fang, felled by sudden seizures, and Gustav, battered and bleeding, in urgent need of healing.
In the dead of night, Leon let out a long sigh. He’d just picked up a mountain of extra work.
User Comments
0 comments from readers