Chapter 2 — 사자(獅子)
Part 2, Chapter 18
Lion
At the mage’s words, Bel’s face scrunched up hard.
Son of a bitch.
How many times in his life had he been insulted to his face like this?
With the Neresta name behind him and the title of Jasaja on top of it, most people didn’t even dare open their mouths in front of him.
But.
That wasn’t the only reason Bel’s expression had curdled.
‘How does he know who we are?’
They hadn’t exactly hidden it, but the Jasaja Corps had moved from the Imperial Palace to Huilan at a brisk clip.
There was no way information about them had already spread through Huilan.
The sortie to Huilan itself had been a sudden move.
And yet, judging by how he’d chosen to call them “sons of bitches,” the other side clearly knew who they were.
Because that “dog” was obviously aimed at the Blood Wolf Knight Order.
Which was why Bel wanted to know who this mage was.
Who in the world had strength this overwhelming and instinct this sharp?
“Who the hell are you?”
Bel’s voice sounded deceptively calm.
“Who are you to…!”
But the mage only hooked up one corner of his mouth and conjured an ice lance.
“Do you really need to know?”
“…?”
The mage gripped the ice lance and stamped the ground.
“You’re going to die anyway.”
The distance between the mage and Bel vanished in an instant.
KWAANG—!
* * *
A massive collision.
Elric and Bel were driven far back by the shockwave.
The Blood Wolf Knights, hovering nearby, reacted at once.
“Protect Lord Jasaja!”
“Don’t let the mage get close!”
To shield their superior, the knights hurled themselves at Elric.
Elric looked at them and bared his teeth in a grin.
“[Howl].”
A cold blizzard howled forth, freezing the vanguard in place.
Even so, the knights in the rear didn’t give up, charging in without a moment’s pause.
“Ugh, how annoying.”
More tenacious resistance than expected.
Elric’s brow pulled tight.
“[Grow fierce], [and fiercer still].”
But this time was different from before.
The blizzard began to whirl between Elric and Bel.
It picked up speed, widening its range, carving out an isolated space no knight could breach.
“Lord Jasaja!”
The knights shouted for Bel in a panic from outside, but no sound made it in.
“This should be enough.”
Elric sounded downright pleased.
“What do you think you’re doing.”
Bel reset his grip on his sword, eyes dripping with killing intent.
Shrring—
“Unbelievably arrogant. A mere mage dares come at me in close quarters?”
The blood-tinted blade of his sword gleamed faintly.
“Knowing who I am?”
Bel Bahamut, one of the Eight Lions.
A man infamous for never letting a marked target live, and reputedly strong enough to back it up.
This provocation from a mage was beyond tolerable.
“You won’t die pretty, mage.”
“We’ll see. Which one of us ends up like that?”
Speaking lazily, Elric shifted his hold on the ice lance.
Then he exploded forward, driving the lance straight in a line at Bel.
Swiish—
Quite fast.
But Bel drew his sword as if he’d seen it a thousand times and parried the ice lance.
KWAANG—!
Bel moved to counter at once.
But—
Crackle—
Elric’s lance didn’t give an inch.
No—he even pressed harder.
Stronger than expected. Bel’s eyes trembled. He’d never imagined a mage would boast this much raw strength.
‘So it wasn’t magic…?!’
Up until their earlier clash, Bel had thought Elric was supplementing every combat stat with magic.
But experiencing it firsthand told him otherwise.
This was Elric’s pure physical might.
As far as Bel knew, only one school could produce power like this.
‘Grand-uncle!’
Matu.
The combat arts Augustine Neresta took pride in.
His frame had been slight, but his presence alone could chew up a Demon King—why was that image suddenly floating up now…?
The problem was, it had been a long time since Bel left the clan, and he had no idea Augustine had taken on a new disciple.
Meanwhile.
Elric was thinking along similar lines.
‘I need to finish this before the damage spreads.’
Even from their first clash, it was obvious. If they kept colliding like this, the fight would only drag on.
Guardian and Hyul’s thought-form were holding off the Jasaja Corps for the moment, but it wasn’t enough.
The village was still burning, and once the Jasaja Corps reformed their lines, they’d be able to peel off troops to the flanks whenever they pleased.
To minimize the damage, he had to end this as fast as possible.
Elric finished the thought and spoke.
“[Imbue].”
A surge of holy power burst from his body. It threw a radiant halo across his back.
Fwaaa!
At the same time, holy power began to soak into the ice lance.
He let Damir ride him.
‘Everything I clash with reeks of something unclean. A pity the grace of God cannot reach this far.’
Flinch.
Bel shivered at the alien aura. Judging it dangerous, he instinctively knocked the lance off-line.
KRAAASH!
Elric spun to the right, Bel’s sword drove left and buried itself in the ground.
A puff of gray dust billowed up—so thick it blinded.
But even in that cloud, one thing stood out.
Fwooooosh—
Three pairs of wings.
They spread and blew all the dust away.
Bel’s eyes widened at the sight of Elric.
“What the…?”
No opponent he’d faced had ever used holy power like this.
A moment ago he’d been a mage—so how…?
Elric looked at the stunned man and poured on the mockery.
“What’s with the face? Where’d that ‘cold-blooded Jasaja’ go? All I see is a mutt with its tail tucked.”
“…Such a slippery tongue. Enough. I’ll rip that thing out first.”
“Then I’ll just rip out the tail.”
“Try it.”
Shshshshsh—
His sword kicked up a gale. The ground beneath his feet shattered and flew.
“Let’s see how long that mouth keeps moving!”
Thud, thud, thud, thud!
Each time Elric’s lance and Bel’s sword collided, the shock was so great the blizzard circling them wobbled violently.
Bel didn’t care in the least.
The attacks kept stringing together, faster and faster until they were hard to track with the eye.
Klang! Klang! Klang!
And every place that blade sought was a vital point—places where a mere graze could be fatal.
One slip and he could be gravely wounded.
Despite coming from a mage clan, the reason he’d become a Lion lay in this very swordsmanship.
Shff shff shff—
Cha-cha-cha-ching!
Bboom, b-boom-boom!
Not bad. At this point, Bel had no choice but to acknowledge Elric purely.
He had the skill to handle an average Lion with ease.
However—
‘That’s all.’
He didn’t think much of it.
Everything he’d shown so far was for show.
He’d deliberately repeated the same pattern, letting the other side get used to it.
Then, if he suddenly changed it—
Hup!
Bel dropped his stance in a snap.
The abrupt change let Elric’s lance pass through where Bel had been a heartbeat earlier.
Elric’s body gave a hard flinch.
It’s over.
All Bel needed was this kind of split-second opening.
He used the recoil and went straight for Elric’s chest.
Swiish!
The sword drew a wicked, unreadable line and shot like an arrow.
But—
“[Repel].”
An ice shield blossomed before Elric’s left chest along with the word, knocking the tip aside.
“…Tch!”
And Elric’s bare fist crashed toward Bel’s face.
Thwudd!
His nose crunched; blood spattered.
“If you’re going to hurt innocent people…”
Elric yanked Bel back in by the collar as he went flying.
“…you’d better be ready to get hurt yourself.”
Crack! Crack! Craaack!
Elric smashed his forehead into Bel’s face again and again.
His nose flattened. Both cheeks caved. Fissures ran through his skull. Broken front teeth flew.
Elric’s face was a mask of Bel’s blood, but his eyes burned more savagely than ever.
“S—sto…!”
Bel tried to struggle, words barely shaping.
“No.”
Elric smiled coldly and headbutted him again.
The most useful thing about holy power was that no matter how much you risked your body, it would patch you right up.
‘…I’m pretty sure that’s not what God intended you to use it for.’
Mephisto muttered to himself, ignored.
CRAAACK!
Bel’s eye burst—he was now gravely maimed.
In that moment.
He knew.
This fight might very well be his last.
‘…No. Not like this! After all that big talk!’
He’d bragged to his superiors that taking out trash couldn’t be that hard.
He’d vowed to succeed in the purge and make Cromhel crown prince—only to feel that ambition collapsing into foam.
* * *
“This way! Everyone, over here!”
“We’ve got an injured one!”
“Coming now!”
It was utter pandemonium.
The village was still burning, and everywhere people lay scalded or trapped under fallen buildings.
Even in the chaos, the Church and the revolutionaries worked together to evacuate people.
“On three we lift together.”
“One, two…!”
“Three!”
A few of them hauled someone out from under a wall.
“Have you got any sense? The door won’t open so you knock the house down?”
“What else were we supposed to do? Just stand and watch? We have to save them somehow!”
“And if something worse happens then what!”
Occasional arguments flared, but they didn’t last.
“Enough! Is that what matters right now? Evacuation comes first.”
“He’s right. Move!”
They snapped back into joint action.
There wasn’t even time to fight.
While Elric bought them time, getting as many residents out as possible mattered most.
Elsewhere, Taihol wiped the sweat running down his brow and looked toward where Elric was.
Far off, a savage blizzard was raging. Summons that were chilling just to look at were perfectly bottling up the Jasaja Corps.
‘…I almost did something insane.’
He’d raised a sword at Elric—Elric, who could face the entire punitive force alone.
Thinking back, it was no different from suicide.
If he’d misjudged things back then, not only he but every soldier around him would’ve been wiped out.
The thought made his skin crawl.
A line of Elric’s floated up.
—Fight if you must, later. For now, put your effort into keeping people alive.
Unlike him, who’d let emotion run wild and nearly sparked infighting, Elric had tried to save people first.
Remembering that, Taihol couldn’t lift his head for shame.
He’d said he wanted to save his people—then acted like that.
Taihol glanced at Mord, who was panting raggedly beside him.
“That descendant of Mervinger… what kind of person is he?”
“What kind of person?”
Mord couldn’t answer easily.
Elric, as Mord had seen him, wasn’t the sort you could cram into one word.
At first sight he’d seemed more Mervinger than anyone.
“A person to be grateful for.”
After a pause, Mord’s mouth opened wide.
“A person to be grateful for.”
The Mage Who Devoured Talent