I Told You Back Then. (1)
Just the aftermath of Grondal swinging his halberd was enough to push Tagmah's body backward.
Even though it didn't land directly, the force of Grondal's attack was fearsome enough to throw him off balance.
However, Grondal didn't have the ability to move freely in the air. After delivering a blow in midair, Grondal soon plummeted to the ground.
Boom!
The moment he landed, the ground split apart, and a shockwave spread far and wide.
Standing atop the cracked ground, Grondal let out a savage grin.
"Not bad. What the hell are you?"
"I am the hand that prepares the coming of the Black Revelation, the one who heralds the Covenant, the one blessed with the Fourth Grace of the One, and the prophet, Tagmah."
"You sure know how to make an entrance. A prophet, huh? Damn cultists just keep spouting all kinds of crap."
"Such foul language. Do you lack the dignity of a king?"
"Trash like you don't deserve to see dignity."
Grondal gripped his halberd tightly once more. A group of dwarves approached him.
They were the very ones who had clinked glasses and laughed with Grondal just moments ago. They were the six dwarf commanders known as the Ironhearts.
The Ironheart was a title granted only to the elite warriors and generals of Valskrum.
With fierce determination, they raised their weapons and shouted.
"That guy looks like a hassle to deal with alone, let's fight together!"
"He's gotta be the leader! If we kill him, it's over, right?"
"Yeah! Let's just gang up on him and beat him to death!"
The six dwarf commanders instinctively sensed Tagmah's power.
He was a foe who couldn't be easily defeated even in a clash against Grondal, the strongest of all dwarves. That's why they believed joint attack was the best strategy.
Grondal didn't disagree with the notion that a coordinated attack was needed. But in the current situation, it wasn't the right choice.
He glanced around him.
GRAAAAH!
Monsters were flooding in from all directions.
Countless bursts of black magic were erupting both inside and outside the city, and even high priests of the Salvation Church had begun to appear.
If this Tagmah bastard fought defensively, even with the Ironhearts joining in, it wouldn't be easy to kill him. And if time dragged on...
"No. No way."
Grondal shook his head. The Ironhearts needed to hold back the incoming enemies.
"I'll handle him. You take care of the others."
"You sure about that?"
"I'll hold him and buy time, so clean up the rest first! That's the better call."
At Grondal's firm command, the dwarf commanders nodded.
Casualties among the dwarves on the frontlines were already increasing rapidly. Only they could deal with the enemy superhumans directly.
It was an unavoidable choice. They raised their weapons and scattered in all directions.
In the end, only Grondal and Tagmah remained in the area.
Left alone, Grondal bit his lip. Tagmah floated in the air with a displeasing smile.
"Ha, these bastards..."
The reason for that smile was obvious.
This wasn't a fair fight. Grondal had to think of the safety of his fellow dwarves. But the enemy had no such shackles.
Those bastards could throw away undead and chimeras like trash, sacrificing them freely. Even if every monster was wiped out, the Salvation Church wouldn't suffer a single loss.
That's why...
That prophet bastard had to be eliminated for the Salvation Church to take real damage.
KA-BOOM!
Grondal once again kicked off the ground and soared. His halberd struck Tagmah's body like a lightning bolt.
BOOM!
A dark energy burst out from Tagmah's body, absorbing the shock. But Grondal didn't stop.
Instead, he used the recoil to leap again, launching consecutive attacks.
BAM! BAM! BOOM!
Grondal kept using the force of his own strikes to spring upward, as if stepping on the sky itself. It was a fighting style that looked like it defied gravity.
A supremely advanced technique that demanded not just strength and stamina, but also precision.
Tagmah tried to create distance by unleashing a burst of energy. But Grondal clashed against that energy head-on, determined to stay close.
Grondal's solid body absorbed the shock of every recoil. It was a feat impossible without extraordinary toughness.
Tagmah looked impressed, as if he hadn't expected such a technique.
"You're truly strong."
"Shut up. I'll fry you in molten steel, you bastard."
BOOM! BOOM! BOOOOM!
Even if Tagmah could fly, it couldn't be more comfortable than fighting on solid ground.
One could only go all-out when standing on the earth.
Eventually, Tagmah descended to the ground. At that sight, Grondal bared his teeth and let out a short laugh.
"You arrogant bastard. The ground is where a dwarf's true power shines."
"Confident, aren't you?"
"See it and feel it for yourself."
Grondal brought his halberd down toward Tagmah's head. Tagmah also planted his feet firmly and reached out his hand.
BOOOOOOM!
CRAAAACK!
A single collision split the earth and began to topple nearby buildings.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The two clashed without pause. Black darkness and burning steel slashed, smashed, and struck each other.
Power against power, will against will — a head-on collision.
Neither side dodged nor retreated.
A fierce exchange, a slugfest with not even an inch of ground conceded.
This was a battle of who would collapse first.
RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE!
The ground beneath them was already split and caving in. The walls and towers around them crumbled to dust.
The sky darkened, and even the air trembled.
CRRRRACK!
The battle showed no signs of ending. But Grondal knew one thing for sure.
'The longer this drags on, the more we suffer.'
So he decided to push himself even further.
Grondal gritted his teeth. Gripping the halberd with both hands, he raised it high.
The attacks of the dwarven king were, in truth, very simple.
Only straightforward, linear blows.
But when those blows carried immense power, it was a different story.
Grondal's eyes burned red. And as he swung his halberd with everything he had—
—it felt as if the world itself were splitting.
BOOOOOOOOOOOM!
Tagmah, who blocked the attack, staggered and was pushed back.
The ground beneath his feet ruptured, and a massive trench appeared as though a boulder had been shoved through it.
But Grondal didn't stop.
BAM! BAM! BOOOOM!
Like hammering a nail, he repeatedly brought his halberd down on Tagmah. Each time, Tagmah's body jolted and was pushed back.
Each shock was powerful enough to leave deep scars in the earth.
Tagmah quietly watched Grondal.
'…Impressive.'
Stronger than expected. No, he had to be strong.
The dwarven king wasn't holding back — he was throwing himself forward, focused solely on attacking.
This wasn't impatience to end the battle quickly. It was an act filled with murderous intent, using every ounce of his strength to kill.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOOOM!
With a savage expression, Grondal didn't stop attacking. He was clearly prepared to take any counterattack head-on and endure it.
Tagmah, in turn, remained calm and faced Grondal head-on.
"When the flames rage fiercely, sometimes it is better to wait until the heat cools."
They had no reason to rush anyway. The monsters and dark mages brought here were all just expendables.
As long as the high priests survived, the victory would ultimately be theirs.
BAM! BAM! BOOM!
Grondal also realized that the enemy was stalling for time. Yet, he no longer cared.
Steel is not tempered with a few strikes.
Tempering is the process of hammering and cooling, hundreds or thousands of times. Only when all of that is accumulated does a true weapon emerge.
That's why the most important virtue of a master craftsman is patience.
He was confident he could hammer away at the enemy until death. He would keep striking until the impurity called Tagmah was gone.
BAM! BAM! BOOOOM!
Tagmah's body kept being pushed back. After defending for so long, he finally opened his mouth.
"Grondal, ruler of Valskrum, and great king of the dwarves. I express deep respect for your astonishing martial prowess."
"Cut the crap. Even if you butter me up, you're not getting your bones picked up. Just get ready to be flattened."
"But your efforts end here. We've long prepared to trample this place."
"Still got the guts to run your mouth, huh? You think you're gonna succeed?"
"It is the will of God."
Tagmah sneered ominously. In that moment, Grondal felt an unfamiliar presence surge at his side.
'Damn it.'
It was too late to block or dodge. He was already fully engaged with Tagmah.
BOOOOOOM!
"Urgh!"
A sudden blow sent Grondal flying to the side.
He gritted his teeth and drove his halberd into the ground to rise again.
Next to Tagmah now stood a middle-aged man draped in the same black robes.
Grondal growled and asked,
"And who the hell are you?"
"I am the hand that prepares the coming of the Black Revelation, the one who heralds the Covenant, the one blessed with the Third Grace of the One, and the prophet, Lahamod."
Grondal let out a low laugh, shrugging his shoulders. Such boldness from a cultist was laughable.
But one thing was certain — the newcomer was also extremely powerful.
It seemed these bastards had come fully prepared.
Ptuh!
Spitting blood, Grondal stood tall with pride.
Nothing had changed. He was already fighting with his life on the line. Just because there were two enemies now didn't mean he would shrink away.
"Fine, let's go ahead and fight until one of us dies."
No sooner had he spoken than the dark energy unleashed by Lahamod and Tagmah surged toward Grondal.
BOOOOOOOOOOM!
A massive shockwave, like an explosion, shook the center of Valskrum.
Dust shot into the air, and the earth screamed.
And yet,
One dwarf, gripping a halberd, stood his ground, refusing to back down.
***
"Hoo…"
Ghislain descended to the ground.
When he opened his eyes, the violent swirl of mana around him subsided.
He had used up all the mana he'd gathered for days with the mana condensation array. He could no longer transfer mana to his allies, either.
If he used any more mana, he wouldn't be able to fight in the truly important battle.
"Is everyone safe?"
— Yulian and Erenes, and Lionel all got away and are heading this way! We've put enough distance, so it should be fine!
One name was missing from Dark's report. Ghislain asked again,
"What about Kyle?"
— Well... it's not looking good. The dwarves couldn't escape properly, so he might get caught.
Ghislain furrowed his brow. He didn't know the exact situation, but things seemed more tangled than expected.
He couldn't go help them right now. Already, powerful forces were clashing nearby.
'The so-called prophets must be here.'
He couldn't be sure if that Lahamod he'd met before had come. But he could sense two energies of that level.
And the one fighting them was likely the dwarf king, Grondal.
Ghislain let out a sigh and spoke,
"Tell Kyle to retreat immediately."
He'd tried to save as many as possible and regroup, but it couldn't be perfect. Every second had been prepared without the cooperation of the dwarves.
No matter what happened, Kyle couldn't be lost here. That would defeat the whole purpose.
They'd bought enough time. All they could do now was hope the dwarves escaped safely.
— Got it! I'm telling him now! He'll be getting out soon!
Ghislain gripped his staff. He spoke to Deneb beside him.
"Let's go."
There was no time to hesitate. He had to join the battle.
Ghislain lifted Deneb with one arm and soared into the sky. Using vision magic, he quickly surveyed the battlefield.
BAM! BAM! BOOOOM!
Near the royal castle, Grondal was fighting two prophets.
Ghislain identified one of the two fighting Grondal.
'Lahamod.'
So that bastard had come here too. They must've been desperate to make this plan succeed.
BOOOOM!
Even as he fought, Grondal was knocked back multiple times.
His body was already covered in blood. The ground around him was turning red from his spilled blood.
Yet his eyes still burned with fire. Rather, he seemed even more determined to keep fighting.
But no matter how strong Grondal was, he couldn't handle two prophets alone. He was already wounded and exhausted.
Watching from afar, Ghislain landed Deneb at a slight distance.
Then his form dissolved into a black mist.
Pop!
Noise wasn't a concern. The battlefield was already drowned in countless other sounds.
Ghislain suppressed his presence as much as possible and began to move slowly.
Grondal was in danger, but rushing in recklessly would do more harm than good.
Ssshhh...
Ghislain melted quietly into the world.
He followed the currents of air, walking the seams between light and shadow.
Like a hunter, slow but unrelenting, he crept toward his prey.
Like a wind that blows in naturally…
No one knew from which direction it would come, but it was already there at their side.
BOOOOOOM!
Grondal was thrown back once more. This time, he couldn't get up easily and coughed up blood.
Tagmah and Lahamod stood before him.
Both looked a little tired and disheveled, but they had no serious injuries.
"This is the end. Dwarf king, Grondal."
Tagmah and Lahamod extended their hands at the same time. A powerful force began to gather in their palms.
They only needed to release that power to shatter Grondal into pieces. Then the war would be over.
Just as they prepared to deliver the final blow—
Lahamod suddenly got chills.
The back of his neck went cold, and it felt like every hair on his body stood on end.
He reflexively turned around. Tagmah, also sensing something off, quickly looked back.
And then, the two of them saw it.
From empty air, a single sword suddenly emerged.
Without warning, that sword slashed toward them both.
SLAASH!
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