One minute had passed out of the promised two. And the price paid for that minute was steep.
There were those who had been sliced in half vertically by the water blade emitted from the halberd’s axe head, their entrails spilling out. Those impaled through the torso by the silver arm, their heads devoured. Some had been skewered on the ogre’s horn and crushed together with their comrades. Others were engulfed in sudden flames, reduced to ashes. And others pierced by lightning spears shooting from the halberd’s tip, their internal organs burned.
The bodies piled up, a grim testament to the sacrifice made just to delay the black ogre. The casualties, both severe and minor, were countless; the devastation wrought by the black ogre was enormous.
Now, I was the only one left standing before the black ogre.
Levias lay on the ground, covered in blood, her scimitar shattered. Baen, having overused his internal mana, had fainted from magical depletion. The other soldiers were also on the ground, groaning in pain. Despite this, the black ogre stood unscathed. All our attacks had been parried with unfamiliar movements and techniques.
“Your command was appropriate. The simultaneous attacks from all directions, targeting different areas, were difficult to handle. That’s why it’s taken this long. But now, it’s over,” the black ogre said matter-of-factly, without a hint of mockery, but rather with a strange tone of admiration.
“Why are you so strong?” I asked. Like Levias, I was not unscathed. My body was covered in numerous minor cuts, my dominant right arm bore a deep gash, and a small knife was embedded in my thigh. The knife had been thrown by the black ogre, retrieved from who knows where.
With Baen and the priests already down, there was no hope of recovery. I had no energy left to remove the knife and heal myself. Any attempt at healing would be met with an immediate attack from the black ogre anyway. My unit was effectively destroyed. The camp was now a chaotic mix of screams, roars, and the sounds of battle, and filled with the stench of blood. Those who had been killed were now being devoured, the loot taken, and the fleeing soldiers mercilessly cut down.
In just a few minutes, the appearance of the black and red-bronze ogres had completely turned the tide of battle. Overwhelmingly and utterly unreasonably.
“Why are you so strong?” I asked again, this time with an unconscious smile. Perhaps I smiled because it was the only way to keep my sanity.
“You feel that way because you’re weak. Your daily training is insufficient, relying only on flashy techniques like physical enhancement through levels and combat arts,” the black ogre replied.
“Our training? Insufficient? You’re saying those days of sweating, covered in dirt and blood, were wasted?” I retorted.
“Yes, they were wasted. It seems like you’ve spent your time in vain. Anyone who relies on laws created by others can’t be strong. If you want to be strong, understand the essence of the power you’ve gained and train until it becomes part of you,” the black ogre declared.
The black ogre’s words wiped the smile from my face, replacing it with an overwhelming surge of anger. If I didn’t get angry here, if I didn’t act now, it would mean denying all the days I’d spent trying to become stronger, denying everyone who had taught me, and denying all the feelings we’d built up together. I couldn’t stand the thought of them being dismissed, even if just by me.
Fueled by anger, strength, and willpower that had almost faded, surged back into me.
“Don’t say another word!” I screamed.
I yanked the knife from my thigh. Pain shot through me, dizzying and sharp. Blood spurted out; my vision blurred.
I ran. Pain pulsed through me with every step. My thigh muscle, half-severed, tore further, a sickening sound accompanying the sensation. My leg was losing feeling.
The crack in my femur, worsened by the strain, threatened to snap completely. The pain was excruciating, but I forced my body to move through sheer willpower. Even if my leg shattered, I had to keep going.
The silver blade of my magic sword, Lune Vent, and my pain-racked body were imbued with my murderous intent. The blade glowed red, and my body shone with a white light.
Therese E. Eckelman’s Combat Art Unleashed: Sacred Altar Sanctuary!
Therese E. Eckelman’s Combat Art Unleashed: Wind Ambush!
The magic sword Lune Vent’s unique skill has been activated: Silver Gale!
I combined my ultimate technique with the speed-boosting combat art Wind Ambush. Although I was far slower than my peak speed due to my injured thigh, the combat art still granted me the speed of the wind.
To keep up with my impossible speed, my thoughts accelerated too. My vision seemed to fly backward, centering on the black ogre poised with his halberd. Looking into those eyes again, the flames of hatred in mine blazed even hotter.
It wasn’t a simple desire to kill—it was a compulsion, a near-obsessive need to kill him. The ten meters between us vanished in less than a second.
I thrust Lune Vent. The blade, imbued with a red glow and wrapped in a spiral of silver wind, increased the power of my thrust exponentially. This was my ultimate attack, combining my sword’s ability and combat art—my strongest strike, in terms of both power and speed.
The black ogre casually caught Lune Vent with his silver arm, which had discarded the halberd. His large fingers sparked as they gripped the blade tightly. Seeing this, something inside me deflated rapidly. Yet my momentum didn’t entirely dissipate, and the tip of my sword managed to pierce the ogre’s thick chest muscles slightly.
Blood flowed. Red blood, just like ours, trickled out. It was a sign, proof that my attack had reached him. I felt a sense of relief. The Light Spirit, meant to attack his soul, didn’t kill him, but my attack had still landed.
“I’ll have to retract my earlier statement about it being futile,” he said. “What you’ve built has, at least, reached me.”
I forced my heavy, exhausted body to look up at the black ogre’s face. He was smiling. Despite his fearsome, savage appearance, there was a gentleness in that smile.
“Lady Therese, get down!” Lord Weissly’s voice cut through the space between the black ogre and me. The promised two minutes had passed. I’d forgotten about it somewhere along the way; there hadn’t been room in my mind for that.
I sensed the immense destructive magic coming from behind me. The sheer force of the magical wave was overwhelming. Lord Weissly had told me to get down. He had likely adjusted the magic to minimize the damage to me if I did. Normally, such precise control would be impossible, but for a High Wizard like Lord Weissly, it was certainly feasible.
However, I no longer had the strength or willpower to move. If I got caught in this, I might die. No, there was a ninety percent chance I would. Yet, for some reason, I found myself thinking that it was fine.
I didn’t understand it myself. I didn’t understand, but what filled my chest was not regret or remorse, just a sense of satisfaction. It was absurd. My precious subordinates had been killed, and now I was about to be killed too, yet all I felt was satisfied.
I looked at the black ogre, still gripping my magic sword, Lune Vent, with his silver arm. Words naturally came to my lips.
“How’s that, Monster? That wound is my gift to you. Remember it well.”
“Yes, I see it. And I accept it. That’s why I won’t let such a fascinating woman as you die.”
Before I could even wonder what he meant, the black ogre wrapped his thick arm around my waist. I didn’t understand what was happening, but the motion was familiar… it was like a dance. And despite our size difference, the movement felt strangely fitting.
As the black ogre spun me around, Lord Weissly’s magic approached from behind him. Finally, I could see what magic had been cast, even though most of it was obscured by the ogre’s large frame.
It was a dragon, with a long, thin body made of white flames, a mixed-type fifth-tier magic spell, White Flame Dragon. I realized this truly was an ace in the hole, and I nodded to myself.
White Flame Dragon was a synthesis magic combining the Flame Heat and Wind Dust attributes. It was said to be controllable at the caster’s will for a limited time. I had seen it once on a battlefield where my father had taken me, and I hadn’t forgotten the sight of a dragon of white flames mowing down a thousand enemy soldiers in seconds. Even as a child, I had felt a mix of respect and awe for that magic. And now, that very magic was coming straight at me.
The final scene of my life being this spectacular wasn’t a bad way to go. It was an honor to die by such a spell. The distance was too close to dodge. I was going to die along with the black ogre—
“What’s with that look of resignation? Do you really think you’re going to die?” The black ogre’s words snapped me back to reality.
“Huh?”
I must have looked dazed.
“I told you, didn’t I? I have no intention of letting you die. Sorry, but I’ve won this battle. Your life is now in my hands.”
The black ogre said this while turning his head to look behind him. In his arms, I could do nothing but go along with what was happening.
The white flame dragon did not stop. Lord Weissly must have determined that it was no longer possible to save me. Any remaining hesitation was gone, and the dragon came hurtling toward us at full speed. It was the right decision, I thought. If he had hesitated here, I wouldn’t have been able to help but despise Lord Weissly.