98. The Warrior King
The moment the starlight arrived from outer space, the gods of this land were defeated.
And the price of defeat also fell upon the seeds that served the gods.
Valiant warriors collapsed under the blades, and the fields of ripe wheat were covered in crimson poppies. A waterfall of blood flowed down the steps, and the city walls were smeared with bloodstains.
Thus came the Age of Man, as it was called.
Trampling over non-humans and their sympathizers.
However, despite the systematic massacre and erasure of records, the gods and faith survived. This was because the gods were rational.
Lux Stella. The haughty alien starlight that did not properly tell people what it desired, only naggingly demanding proof of life.
On the other hand, the great gods made transactions with humans in an intuitive and easy-to-understand manner.
Offer me a worthy tribute, and I shall grant you an appropriate reward.
Those who had rejected the alien starlight to the end could not help but kneel before the promise of the gods and rejoice.
What an easy-to-understand and easy-to-follow faith this was.
Even the rewards were not ambiguous. The gods were not like Lux Stella, who demanded proof of life and forced a pledge. The gods were willing to grant the wishes of humans.
-As long as they offered a tribute worthy enough for them to look upon with favor.
The warrior Hart.
He began to walk slowly, his left hand gently caressing his abdomen where a blade had pierced him. His steps were filled with a warrior’s pride and vigilance towards an unfamiliar enemy.
However, there was an emotion that surpassed all of these.
Curiosity.
‘Did he intentionally avoid my heart?’
Blood was already flowing down his palm. It had been a mistake not to wear his armor properly, overconfident as usual. Hart narrowed the distance, gripping the ax handle with only his right hand.
Towards Narva, the black-shouldered man who had thrown the blade.
“You don’t even state your name. We’re about to fight, so we should at least know each other’s names.”
“….”
“So. How did you learn of the War God’s blessing? Could it be that you are one of the surviving gods?”
It was a well-known fact that the alien starlight-worshipping church was desperate to eradicate the existence of gods.
Considering their paranoid persistence and fearsome pursuit, it was highly unlikely that an ordinary warrior would know about the War God. Of course, there were countless people in the vast world, so exceptions were not impossible.
Hart was hoping for the latter. He looked at Narva, hoping that perhaps there was a compatriot still alive in this distant foreign land, a land where the alien starlight had already taken root.
However, when Narva slowly raised both hands and took off his gauntlets, Hart was briefly taken aback, then nodded in understanding.
“Indeed.”
A light blue cross-shaped emblem.
All doubts were dispelled as soon as he saw the stigma engraved on the back of Narva’s hand. Hart placed his left hand, which had been clutching his abdomen, on top of the ax handle. Naturally, blood poured out of the now-widened gap .
But he didn’t care this time.
Hart straightened his posture, suppressing the pain, and the corners of his lips curled up.
“Alien starlight, are you a Grand Warrior?”
Whether or not his opponent knew about the War God was no longer of concern.
He was a Grand Warrior of Lux Stella, who was known to be extremely picky about granting power to believers. It was only natural that he was different from ordinary people. Instead of charging, Hart closed the distance one step at a time.
Hart walked forward, his gaze fixed on Narva, who was quietly revealing his stigma.
After all, the cowards who were slowly retreating behind him, devastated, were just a bunch of rabble who would be finished off if he defeated just one man.
“Now that I see you face to face, you don’t look so bad. Don’t you agree?”
It was true.
Unlike Narva, who glared fiercely, Hart’s eyes were filled with nothing but pure fighting spirit.
“Judging from the timing of your appearance, you must have been waiting here in advance. The reason for that must be to wait for us to become disorganized from the looting and unable to put up a proper fight.”
“….”
“Unlike the nearby landholders who just charge without thinking. You’re… a warrior. You know what a fight is, and you know that sacrifices must be made to win.”
Thud.
Before he knew it, Hart was standing just a dozen or so steps away from Narba, his expression a soft smile that betrayed a budding sense of camaraderie.
“I’m glad to meet a fellow warrior—”
“Get lost.”
“…?”
Before Narba could erect an iron wall of nonsense words.
“What are you trying to insinuate, you sanctimonious little sh*t who borrows the power of others?”
Narba ended the confrontation with those words. In one swift motion, he drew the last dagger from his belt and pointed it at Hart.
Naturally, Hart was aghast at the sight of the holy mark that gleamed brightly on the back of his hand.
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“Oh, really? Is that how a great warrior blessed by God should speak?”
He had tried to treat Hart with the respect due to a warrior.
Hart raised his ax, his face weary of the disrespectful and dishonorable attitude. It was obvious which would prevail, the massive ax or the dainty dagger.
Hart had the overwhelming advantage in both mass and reach.
So why not savor the advantage without holding back?
“Hmph!”
Booooom-!!!
Hart’s ax whistled sharply through the air as he swung it. The sheer force of the wind pressure was enough to make the weeds that littered the ground lie flat. Of course, at this rate, it would never reach him.
In fact, Narba was well aware of that fact and was waiting silently, his stance firm.
At that moment, Hart let out a roar.
“You let your guard down!!!”
His hands, which had been gripping the ax handle, slid off smoothly. The ax, now free from his hands, swung even farther and deeper.
But Narba didn’t roll away or dodge.
As soon as he saw the ax blade elongate, he held the dagger in reverse and placed it over the plate armor on his forearm, above the gauntlet. He lowered his stance, his gaze fixed on both the approaching ax blade and Hart.
Hart’s eyes widened as he instantly realized what the stance meant.
‘He’s going to dig in!’
Hart, sensing what was coming next, hurriedly took another step forward and grabbed the ax handle that was slipping away. Then, gritting his teeth, he pulled the ax handle, which had become even heavier with centrifugal force, back into his arms.
-That was when Narba moved.
Clang, clang, clang, clang!!!!
The moment the screeching of metal on metal ceased, Narba was holding the dagger he had held in reverse high in the air. Right before Hart’s nose, who had tilted his head back.
And on the blade of the dagger, which had been gnashing at the ax handle—
“One.”
“….”
A faint drop of blood was forming.
A thin line appeared on Hart’s throat, and a faint drop of blood oozed out along it.
Hart took a few steps back before finally lowering his head. The absurd look he had been giving Narba was gone.
The emotion that replaced the absurdity and triumph was one and only one.
It was shocking.
“…”
Hart didn’t say anything more.
Instead, he was desperately moving his feet with a hardened face and widening the distance. It was part of his plan to always gain an advantage in close combat using his heavy and long ax.
However, Narva would not give his opponent an advantageous distance.
Narva rushed in without hesitation after confirming that Hart was widening the distance by hurriedly sidestepping. Hart immediately took a step back and raised his ax.
Woong-.
The moment the ax blade that fiercely cut through the air seemed to come down as is.
Hart, with his ax raised, used the weight attached to the end in an instant to stab.
Whoong!
The sound of his shoulder mantle fluttering resounded loudly. It was a close call, but a calculated difference. Narva had lightly leaped to the side and avoided the stab.
However, the attack did not end there.
Hart, realizing that his stab had missed, grabbed the shaft and swung it with all his might. However, this time too, he failed. The shaft just cut through the air in vain.
Narva lowered his posture almost to his knees and glared at Hart like a crouching beast.
Hart started to rotate his ax upon seeing that gaze, his sweat turning cold.
At that moment, a charge close to a leap came.
Kakangakang!!!!
The sparks created by the ax blade and dagger colliding were reflected in the distant eyes of the corpse lying on the floor.
Utudududuk!
The moaning that had been faintly heard stopped as the chain links were torn off.
Instead, all that could be heard was a single word from the warrior who had always laughed heartily.
“Ugh!”
By the time he moved his gaze to the ax handle due to the belated stinging pain, it was already too late.
His fingers were trembling. At the end of them, crimson drops of blood were forming one by one.
He realized it at once upon seeing that.
The tendons of his right hand had been severed.
Hart immediately raised his head and echoed.
“Retreat!”
Chaeng!
The ax began to be pushed away.
It was being pushed away by the dagger’s blade that flowed dazzlingly between his fingers.
The dagger never stabbed fiercely. It just swung gently as if the warm sunlight was pouring down, as if a clear stream was flowing naturally.
“Everyone retreat, I will block this guy!!!”
However, death approached steadily.
The drops of blood seeing out before he realized it had been cut, his fingers gradually losing strength and collapsing.
Every time Hart desperately moved his ax to block the dagger, the wounds unknowingly piled up.
[Hart. If you serve the God of War, remember this.]
At that moment, Hart recalled the face of the chieftain, Ulfson, who had looked at him with a serious expression.
[There is no warrior who does not die.]
[Hey, wouldn’t it be different if you were blessed by the God of War?]
[Our ancestors once thought so too.]
[They did?]
[Hart. Please do not make the same mistake as our ancestors.]
Blood gushed incessantly from the lacerated flesh like a net, as if it were being stabbed.
The weight of his words, which he hadn’t felt since he received the blessing of the War God, approached with heavy steps and opened his mind.
[Our ancestors also kill those who cannot die.]
Immunity to instant death.
The blessing of the War God allows one to withstand a blow that would otherwise lead to death. Even if one’s heart is pierced, it will heal if one kills the attacker before dying. As long as one receives the blessing of the War God, one’s neck and head will never be severed.
It was a power worthy of being called immortal, but for one person.
A warrior who possessed neither a mysterious lineage nor the blessing of any god had managed to break the great power of the War God, rendering him no longer immortal.
[I thought so until I met the greatest warrior who ever lived on this land.]
Thud.
His weakened body collapsed to its knees. Hart’s entire body was riddled with dagger wounds. It was tattered, as if it had been stabbed with the tip of a knife, cut open, or scraped and slashed with a jagged blade.
As the ax he had finally dropped from his hand clattered on the floor, Hart lifted his head with all his remaining strength.
Narva was there.
Narva quietly looked down at Hart, not bothering to wipe away the bloodstains that had splattered everywhere. He kept the dagger pointed at Hart’s neck.
One side of the blade was jagged and dented, while the other was smoothly polished.
And the tip, where the blades overlapped, was sharply honed and cold.
Hart rolled his eyes to examine the dagger, then looked back up at Narva, his lips trembling.
“I, the warrior king…”
Narva’s gaze had already left Hart long ago.
Instead, he was fiercely glaring at the warriors who were gathering behind Hart, drawn by the commotion. A tingling sensation ran down his spine. A cold feeling, which he thought he would never feel again, chilled Hart’s lungs.
The warriors approached with a vengeance, unaware of what Hart was feeling.
“Save the warlord!”
“Warlord, just hold on a little longer!!!”
His vision was already becoming blurry.
Nevertheless, Hart exhaled with difficulty, squeezing his lungs to open his blood-soaked lips.
“Can you grant me… permission to retreat…?”
Only then did Narva look down at Hart again.
Hart’s heart pounded in his chest before the fierce, icy glare. It was as if his entire body was being pierced by that gaze alone.
However, he soon realized that it was an illusion.
Narva was looking down at the corpse lying on the floor.
“Do you know why these people died?”
“….”
It was a refugee from Cobbleville, his face disfigured as if he had been used as a sacrifice.
“They tried to kill you.”
Clang.
The tattered prayer was completely severed. At the same time, the blessing of the War God was revoked.
The War God only blesses those who rush to death with an instant death blow.
If one’s limbs are stabbed, their tendons severed, and they bleed to death from blood loss, it is not considered an instant and thus not blessed. fell Hart forward, his head hitting the ground, and breathed his last.
At the same time, a chorus of anger filled the town.
The warriors who had been approaching in a hurry had celebrated Hart’s death and were now giving vent to their rage.
“Warlord!”
“…Revenge!!!”
Narba nonchalantly tossed the broken dagger on Hart’s chest.
“All of you, fall back into formation.”
Then, without looking back, he raised his left hand and said.
“No prisoners.”
He spoke to the soldiers and knights who were hesitating and swallowing their saliva behind him.