Rem split apart every last leftover husk with his axe. Having four spearheads fly in from all directions with the same rhythm was fairly threatening, but that only mattered when the opponent's skill was similar.
'Compared to when I was up against that bastard Balrog.'
This wasn't even a crisis. The experience he had piled up made the steel called a knight harder.
It was even easier because someone called Cypress had already shown the answer for how it was advantageous to fight.
Rem knocked away one spearhead each with his left fist and right foot, and pinned another one against his side. In the meantime, the axe in his right hand split open one knight's head.
As the fight went on, the corpses increased. The barbarian holding an axe wasn't rash, and he didn't hesitate more than necessary, either.
He just moved at exactly the right speed and swung his axe with exactly the right amount of strength. If you left him alone, it felt like he'd fight like that for three days and nights. That wasn't a joke—that was something Rem could actually do.
'After messing around with Uske.'
His ability to control the sorcery on its own and his technique for distributing stamina had naturally improved.
Rem kept moving his feet and changing position so he didn't keep more than four opponents in his field of view. The Faceless Order of Knights collapsing in droves didn't take long.
Then one bastard's helmet caught on the axe blade and peeled off as if splitting, revealing a face.
Rem's gaze reflexively checked the face. The cheeks were full of scars and the eyes had no focus. No matter who looked, it wasn't normal.
'A weapon that wrecked their minds and then engraved only slaughter techniques.'
That was the conclusion he reached while facing them. "Cruel" and "brutal" wasn't even enough.
And it was also why, even with comrades' skulls getting split open by axe blows right beside them and deaths piling up one after another, not a single one of them retreated.
From the standpoint of someone fighting them, it wasn't exactly creepy, but it was unpleasant.
"You bastard."
That was after he cut the last one's neck. Rem let his axe hang down and turned his gaze. It was to find that bastard called the High Pontiff. Wasn't it obvious who made an order of knights like this?
That bastard walked with a leisurely attitude, like he'd come out for a stroll through the garden. Just that alone scattered an intense presence that gathered every gaze around him.
The traces of handling sorcery were obvious, and he gave off a disgusting smell, too. Just hearing what he did was enough to make you sick.
'A way to mass-produce knights.'
Would a bastard who stuck to a method that threw away both justice and benevolence be normal?
"You all didn't fight because you wanted to, right? I don't know about the rest, but I'll cut that bastard's neck off too and let you go together."
As Rem swung his axe, he heard a wailing sound with no substance.
Those were the screams of the Faceless—those who had rolled around under the High Pontiff and turned into weapons.
"Ah, what a damn unlucky bastard."
Unlike when he was in the thick of the fight and excitedly shouted that he was the vice commander, Rem's tone was laced with irritation.
***
"Do you have the skill to hit me from down there?"
With hair that had a blue aura about it, and armor that clung tight to the body so the shape of the abs showed, it was a distinctive getup for an ordinary mage.
Enkrid stared up. Since the bastard was using the skill of floating up in the sky, it was true that it was out of reach right now.
"If I throw something, it'll hit."
Enkrid said.
"Are you planning to throw the sword in your hand?"
The mage asked back with not a trace of laughter. Of course, he would have come with solid preparations to block or dodge.
Even so, would Enkrid not even try?
Enkrid threw the horn bugle dagger hanging from his chest.
Bwooooo!
There was no need to throw it with all his strength. The opponent wasn't a knight.
Boom!
The dagger pierced through the bastard's stomach and passed through. The dagger Enkrid threw flew off beyond the sky over there.
The opponent wasn't a knight, but he was a mage. The dagger clearly pierced through the abdomen, but he didn't bleed, and his insides were fine. Should you say that was indeed fitting for someone called a mage?
Starting from the mage's hair, crackle— lightning sprayed, then his body turned into lightning, and that was how he let the horn bugle dagger pass right through. White lightning sprayed in all directions from the bastard's eyes.
He looked like some god of lightning had descended.
"Guhinna's Branch Twig."
And the moment his mouth opened, lightning struck.
KRAKOOOM!
Sound is always one beat late. A chunk of lightning that fell before the sound drew a long line as it came down and then shattered against Enkrid's Dawn.
"Looking again, it's certain. Spell suppression? Your skill is outstanding. Do you truly have no intention of coming over to this side?"
The mage talked a lot. Even while speaking, crackle— lightning discharged from the corners of his mouth, and blue streaks of lightning sprayed through the air.
"No."
That was Enkrid's plain answer. One smell that had been bothering him came in close. It wasn't as much as beastmen, but a trained sense of smell was an excellent tool for detecting enemies.
"Go. Go and kill him."
At some point, a bastard with two horns above his head, who had modified his helmet to fit them, blocked the front.
Grrrr.
Along with the growling sound, thick saliva ran from his mouth. Under the helmet covering the mouth area, a lump of drool went plop and fell. Compared to a giant, his frame wasn't that big.
Even compared to Enkrid, it was hard to call him enormous.
"Doesn't look like a person."
Enkrid muttered. He looked full of leisure, and it wasn't a threatened tone, either.
"You knocked all my gryphons down, didn't you? This time, it's my turn."
That voice just now came from the bastard standing behind the monster.
Enkrid sometimes found it fascinating when he saw bastards like that. The opponent was a knight—shouldn't he not be running his mouth at this distance?
The moment he finished speaking, Enkrid sprinted forward. The horned monster blocking his front swung a two-handed axe.
Puhng—
It was a world of silence. The axe blade came in with the momentum to split his body into two from top to bottom. There was no sound, and thought accelerated, and it was a moment where he felt the weight of the air as if he'd fallen into a swamp.
Enkrid raised Dawn vertical to the ground, blocked the axe blade, and let it flow.
'Softly.'
He repeated it to himself and changed his Will. The Will that had been hard and steadfast inside his body became soft, like dough that had swollen before baking bread. He had been preparing it from long ago.
It was a flow that spread through his whole body as he twisted out his left ankle as the axis. After letting the axe flow like that, he abruptly swung his fist and planted it in the face of the bastard monster tamer who had been running his mouth.
Kkagagak! Puk!
Time and sound, which had not flowed together, flowed at the same time. The head of the bastard who had been moving his mouth burst. Blood scattered in a radial pattern through the air.
"...Kheong!"
At the same time, a beast's roar was heard. Enkrid turned his body and guessed the identity of what was inside that helmet.
'A minotaur?'
Instead of being huge, it was agile, and dense, tight muscles packed his whole body like firm marbled meat. At the same time, the skin was a deep copper color. It was like someone had covered the whole body in metal and then painted it.
The monster gripped the axe with only one hand and swung it vertically. Even while perceiving all of that, Enkrid didn't dodge.
Instead of dodging, he raised Dawn once again.
The minotaur had repeatedly been modified into a monster's body, so it fought as well as a knight. Remembering what had happened a moment ago, it loosened its grip and took strength out slightly.
It learned and grew stronger the more it fought—that was how it had come this far in a monster's body. It was the trump card raised by the monster handler who had done something stupid and then died a moment ago.
Watching the opponent's response, Enkrid hardened the Will swirling inside his body and burst it. Point Explosion.
With Heart of Might and his usual training added on top, he possessed monstrous strength that could even win at arm-wrestling an ogre.
And on top of that, it wasn't just simple muscle strength that was loaded into the sword he was swinging right now.
The moment Dawn struck the double-bladed axe, the bull monster's arm lifted. That was the result of loosening strength clumsily.
Just like that, Dawn visited inside the helmet. The blade that went in without even knocking dug up and tore at the secret hidden in the room.
Gwo—.
The bull monster swung its axe eight more times into empty air. A monster's vitality was truly tenacious.
Enkrid roughly accepted that while consecutively dodging and batting away the lightning stabbing down from the sky.
"...You're a monster. You."
Hearing those words, Enkrid flicked his eyes up. If the body turned into lightning, would it be that fast?
Seeing that he couldn't dodge the dagger, it wouldn't be.
When you saw the result, you knew the cause. From the mage's actions, he read the limit the mage had. It was a surprising level of tactical ability.
Then, at what he did next, the mage panicked. Right before the bull monster collapsed, Enkrid put his foot on the axe blade it was swinging. From there, he jumped up, stomped the opponent's weapon with his left foot and then stomped the shoulder again with his right foot, then pulled the left foot back and kicked off the head, shooting upward.
All of those movements ended before he could even exhale once. His body flew. He wasn't calling Odd-Eye and flying—he was facing the mage bare-bodied.
Boom!
The monster's head that had been his support burst, and black blood sprayed everywhere.
"Guh..."
The mage couldn't even bring himself to finish speaking. Enkrid knew how to read the gaps in a spell and scorch them. His sword wasn't spell suppression—it was spell killing.
That skill he realized while cutting down Walking Fire, Esther had trained him in with great care. The result was shown now.
Whooong!
The blade split the body made of lightning. With a tzzzzt— sound, the chunk of lightning split into two looked like it would merge again, then collapsed as it was.
Then an extremely astonishing scene entered everyone's eyes. He clearly cut lightning, but between it, red blood gushed out in streams.
Crackle, chiiik, crackle, chiiiiik.
It was a rare sight, lightning burning flowing blood.
"Without even throwing the sword, I can go up and cut you."
Enkrid humiliated the mage one more time by saying it after killing him. Of course, he had only answered without forgetting the question about whether he would throw the sword.
Even as he died, the mage was wronged. There was still a lot of magic he could use, but he died without even being able to do anything.
'Unfair.'
That was the mage's last thought. Enkrid spun his body with a whip— and lightly tapped his foot on the ground with a tok— then turned his gaze.
At some point, the High Pontiff had strode close. He reached a hand toward the adjutant. Ten of the High Pontiff's subordinates with shaved heads came, grunting as they carried his weapon.
Dududududuk.
It was a thick iron plate that, just by dragging it along the ground, smashed apart the stones that got caught. The High Pontiff gripped the handle and said.
"You all lost."
He was one who made plans. One who enjoyed fights that he prepared for, thought through, and won.
The High Pontiff tasted a defeat like this for the first time in decades. It was enough to make him recall the day he fought one of the lords of the Demon-lands and suffered a crushing defeat.
So had he learned nothing back then? No, he had learned a lot.
'Every plan is nothing but words that speak of hope until it succeeds.'
Therefore, even if he failed, he had to agonize over how to win. Even if the plan went off, he had to learn how to advance. Even if everything went wrong, he had to devise a way to stand tall in the end.
"Now that I look, it seems like the one who caught Balrog wasn't some monster coiled up inside the Demon-lands, but you."
The High Pontiff said it with half conviction, and Enkrid didn't feel a need to hide it.
"They call you Balrog Slayer."
"You have more than enough qualification to use those words."
"So what will you do alone? Are you planning to duel one after another?"
"One fight isn't finished yet."
From far away, sounds like Thud! Bang! Boom! could be heard. Cypress and a Frog called Baerlich were still fighting.
"You bastard! You were hiding your skill!"
From far away, seeing the Frog shout at the level of a frog's croak, it was close, but it also seemed like you could tell who it was favorable for.
Without directly clashing and fighting, you couldn't easily gauge victory or defeat, so it was hard to carelessly guess the result of those two.
While they exchanged a brief talk like that, whoosh— a disc flew toward the High Pontiff.
The High Pontiff didn't even move the iron plate and slapped the disc with his bare hand. Bang! The thrown axe that had looked like a disc shattered. Steel that a dwarf living in the Border Guard had sharpened with skill broke like a thin porcelain plate.
Even so, the axe did its job. It drew out the High Pontiff's punch and made it possible to guess his skill.
"What is it? Is the king the best at fighting? You guys must make the strongest bastard the king."
Rem approached and said. Of course, the thrown axe was his work, too. The High Pontiff lifted the corners of his mouth and then burst into a guffaw.
"Hahahaha!"
His laughter shook and spread through the air. If you didn't block it with Will, it felt like it could burst your heart.
Then, cutting off the laughter sharply, the High Pontiff asked.
"Do you think you have won?"
"It's not that it seems like it. We won."
Ragna answered, facing the fact.
The High Pontiff opened the hand that had smashed the axe. Around that hand, a mirage had been rising for a while now to a strangely intense degree.
"Keep the contract!"
The High Pontiff shouted. Along with that, a mirage rose from the bodies of the bastards who had been lying fallen, too.
-Of course.
At the same time a voice was heard from behind the High Pontiff, everyone, including Enkrid, began to see the ones they had killed twitch and move.
"It's the second round. Let's fight gladly."
The High Pontiff said, bursting into laughter.