Chapter 112: Allen Amiel (2)
Even in such a sudden situation, Yul Runberg did not lose his composure.
“Hup!”
He reflexively swung his sword toward Allen, scattering it in a sweeping motion.
It wasn’t intended to wound him, but rather to observe his reaction and response.
However…
“……”
Allen did nothing.
He didn’t raise his sword to defend, nor did he show any kind of reaction.
He just stood there, vacant, motionless.
‘What is this?’
At this rate, the blade would cleanly slice through Allen along its path.
And yet, Allen continued to stand dazedly, showing no meaningful reaction.
Though Yul Runberg found it odd, he still swung his blade to cut through Allen’s body.
No—he tried to.
“What the…!”
But the blade merely grazed past, as if passing through Allen’s body.
Like slicing the moon reflected on water—without the slightest resistance.
Startled by the sight, Yul Runberg let out a shrill gasp without realizing it.
In that instant, a chilling, indescribable sensation clutched the back of his neck.
Yul Runberg instinctively twisted his body, pulling his sword close to shield his neck and chest.
Kwaaang!
Right after, with a massive impact, he was blown straight backward.
“Kehk!”
He only managed to stop after rolling back several times in a disgraceful tumble.
Covered in dirt and dust, he immediately got up and regained his stance.
There was no time to lie idly on the ground.
Already, a red storm had approached right in front of his eyes.
“Just one wrist isn’t enough for you, is it?!”
With those words, Yul Runberg scattered charms from within his coat.
The charms fluttering in the air burst into flames and began to fly toward Allen.
“…One.”
Allen stumbled forward toward Yul Runberg, who was retreating backward.
Meanwhile, he swung his sword randomly into the air.
But each time he did, the blazing fireballs—enough to easily incinerate a person—flickered out pitifully, as if drained of strength.
Seeing this, Yul Runberg grimaced and suddenly drove his blade into the wounded wrist.
“Grrgh…!”
Enduring a pain that felt like his brain was on fire, he scattered his blood into the air.
The spilled blood began tracing strange patterns midair, as though it had touched an invisible canvas.
Curses and sorceries that devour part of the caster’s body exert far stronger power than normal.
Yul Runberg then poured forth every spell and curse he knew.
It was because he still lacked the time needed to use his ability.
“…The butterfly. Chases the locust.”
“Heh.”
But Allen’s steps, as if on a leisurely stroll, showed not the slightest hesitation.
The sight made Yul Runberg let out a hollow laugh without meaning to.
To break curses and sorceries with mere sword swings—
That was absurd.
“No. One. …Not enough.”
Allen muttered.
His gaze was fixed on Yul Runberg.
More precisely—on the one wrist he still had left.
“One’s not enough. …More.”
Allen Amiel whispered.
“Give me everything.”
You lunatic.
Yul Runberg swallowed down the curses welling up inside and quickly backed away.
Just a bit.
Even a tiny bit of time would do.
If only he could use his ability, he could subdue that guy any moment…
‘No, there’s no time…!’
In the end, Yul Runberg moved his hand swiftly.
A surge of black, dead blood spilled from his lips, but he had accomplished what he intended to some degree.
“Shadow. Droplet. …Sound?”
“Ghh, this bastard…!”
At that moment, Allen, who had been charging toward Yul Runberg, suddenly veered off course.
There stood Kyren, who had somehow healed his abdominal wound and was gripping his sword.
“……”
Of course, this wasn’t an attempt to have them perish together.
The current Kyren couldn’t even buy time against Allen.
In fact, after exchanging only a few blows, Kyren was mercilessly slashed all over and dropped to his knees, helpless.
And this—was the moment Yul Runberg had been aiming for.
Clang.
He heard the sound of something shattering by his ear.
“Red. …Young Master, Older Brother?”
It was the sound of the suggestion placed between Allen and Kyren breaking.
Snapping out of the suggestion, Allen blankly muttered as he looked at the defeated Kyren he had cut down.
He had won the gamble.
‘Got it.’
Before he knew it, Yul Runberg had approached to striking distance of Allen.
With a twisted grin, he thrust his sword directly at Allen’s back—right where the heart would be.
Slice.
The pain came again.
“…Ah, ugh!?”
It wasn’t the wrist this time.
It was his finger.
The tip of his index finger had been severed.
Yul Runberg looked down at his finger in stunned disbelief.
Then, startled by someone’s gaze, he quickly looked up.
“Together.”
Allen.
He had deflected the blade aimed at his heart and was now quietly staring at him.
“…Let’s go together. You and me. Us.”
With those words, Allen lunged toward Yul Runberg.
“Kuhk!”
Yul Runberg hastily pulled out the few remaining charms he had left.
They were protection charms he always kept as a last resort.
The place he protected was not his neck, heart, or abdomen.
It was none other than his one remaining wrist.
A foolish decision he would never normally make.
Yet at least for now, it was undeniably the most certain choice.
Kwaang!
Allen’s sword, swung so fast its trajectory couldn’t even be seen, collided with the charm, creating a thunderous crash.
He managed to prevent his wrist from being severed again—but that was all.
“Ghhrrgh…!”
From the impact of the clash, he dropped his sword.
Swallowing a humiliation beyond words for a swordsman, Yul Runberg had no choice but to retreat to survive.
But that, too, turned out to be the most foolish choice he could make.
‘Is this… how it ends?’
There was no way he could face Allen in that state with his bare hands.
The moment he reached that conclusion, Yul Runberg clenched his teeth without realizing it.
Yet the end he had braced for never came.
“Moonlight… the hilt is gone. I… me…? I…?”
Allen just stood there blankly, motionless, without a single reaction.
Looking up at the sky, he slowly turned his head to survey his surroundings.
In the process, Allen clearly looked back and forth between Yul and Kyren.
The man whose wrist and finger were severed, and the one lying face down on the ground.
And still, Allen’s eyes remained unfocused and hazy.
“Through the glass, a greeting. Unknowable… standard. Quiet conch. Voice…”
He mumbled incomprehensible words, appearing utterly deranged.
Watching him babble nonsense, Yul involuntarily furrowed his brows.
‘…What the hell is going on?’
Feeling suspicious, Yul Runberg subtly reached for the dagger hidden in his coat.
“Fruit fly. Rice pest.”
At that moment, Allen, who had been vacant, began staring quietly at Yul Runberg.
Seeing focus return to Allen’s eyes, he swiftly stopped his hand reaching for the dagger.
The focus in Allen’s eyes faded once again.
‘He reacts only to direct hostility or murderous intent. Or to armed opponents.’
Yul Runberg pulled out a charm from his coat.
It was a healing charm for his severed wrist and finger.
As he brought the charm close, the sound of bubbling accompanied the start of the wound’s healing.
“Hoo…”
Sighing out the pain that etched into his mind, Yul Runberg began reassessing the situation.
“……”
Sorcery?
Or was it magic?
‘…No.’
Yul Runberg shook his head immediately.
He was quite proficient in sorcery himself.
And yet, he couldn’t detect even a trace of magic or sorcery from Allen.
‘Does that mean he simply moved by instinct and reaction alone?’
A shiver ran down Yul Runberg’s spine.
The weapon in Allen’s hand was nothing more than a broken sword.
Even that blade was chipped and worn.
It meant he had fought quite the battle before getting here.
Indeed, Allen’s body was covered in wounds, large and small.
A body full of injuries.
And a broken sword.
Despite that, Yul had his wrist cut in an instant without realizing it, and Kyren Amiel was overwhelmed in a flash.
“……”
It was a short confrontation, but Yul Runberg had no choice but to acknowledge that his opponent possessed strength beyond standard measure.
He didn’t know what had happened, or what the cause was.
Yet, somehow, he found himself oddly convinced by the situation.
‘Red hair.’
The red hair that symbolized the Amiel family.
Allen Amiel’s hair was of a red more vivid than any other.
Redder even than the rightful heir Kyren, and in some ways, as red as the current Count Amiel.
In other words, he had inherited the blood of that monster of a man in great intensity.
It would be stranger if he wasn’t strong.
“Heh heh…”
Yul Runberg chuckled hollowly as he wiped the black blood from his lips.
He had lost his wrist and finger—the very lifelines of a swordsman.
Even that fact alone was enraging, but what hurt even more was that the one who inflicted that pain was none other than someone from the Amiel family.
That made it all the more infuriating and painful.
“……”
Meanwhile, Allen was quietly staring down at Yul Runberg’s severed wrist.
It was like watching a child stomp on a bug and curiously observe it.
I’ll tear you to pieces too.
Resolving that, Yul Runberg stood up.
Allen was still just looking down at the ground.
“…I do not feel pain.”
Yul Runberg murmured quietly.
A mutter where both speaker and listener were the same.
It was to cast a suggestion on none other than himself.
“My body heals wounds instantly.”
As soon as he spoke, something unbelievable happened.
Just as he said, bubbling sounds arose from all over his body, and his wounds began to rapidly heal.
Yet he continued his words with a calm expression.
“I can exert more power than usual.”
“I can move faster than usual.”
“I can react more sharply than usual.”
Ordinarily, this method took too long and couldn’t be used mid-battle.
However, even as Yul Runberg repeatedly cast suggestions on himself and his aura seemed to erupt explosively, Allen still showed no interest whatsoever.
“…I hear sound.”
Yul Runberg whispered as he slowly began walking toward his sword lying on the ground.
Allen still didn’t react.
“I can hear even better.”
But Yul Runberg didn’t pick up the sword immediately.
He just stood there blankly, mumbling, gazing at Allen—or more precisely, behind him.
“That’s why I realize.”
Yul Runberg moved.
And so did Allen.
Gripping his sword, Yul Runberg shot toward Allen like a bullet.
With a broken sword in hand, Allen simply watched Yul Runberg like a spider watching its prey walk into its web.
Yul Runberg’s mouth opened again.
“…that my loyal subordinate has arrived to assist me.”
A chilling light flared behind Allen.
It was Lyslin, gripping her sword.
Thud!
Yul Runberg.
Lyslin.
Someone’s sword pierced through Allen’s body.