Chapter 43: Search (5)

Chapter 43: Search (5)

Dale raised his sword and spoke.

No matter how dire the situation, you shouldnt resort to seeking help from such a suspicious character.

The man before him was the very reason the council members were intent on overturning the slums.

If it had been someone other than Dale who had discovered this mans presence

They would have been caught without a chance to escape.

Moreover, in this situation, they couldnt even protest their innocence. After all, this suspicious individual was receiving hospitality from the residents themselves.

At Dales rebuke, the village chief hastily waved his hands.

It wasnt me who asked for his help. He just came up to me while I was walking around and insisted that I needed his help. He demanded money and food in exchange for protecting the residents and threatened to kill us if we didnt comply

It seemed the chief had unfortunately crossed paths with this man.

Dale asked him.

Why didnt you tell me about this sooner?

The chief bowed his head.

He threatened that if I called for help, he would kill the residents in the most painful way possible. A warrior who has fought demons, the thought was too scary Im sorry.

Could it be that they didnt fully trust Dales abilities?

Indeed, if the mans claims were true, then their choice was understandable.

Surviving a battle with demons would imply immense skill in itself.This chapter is updated by nov(e)(l)biin.com

Of course, thats assuming his story holds any truth.

He doesnt seem that strong, though.

Dale examined the man.

Even then, the man was nonchalantly licking the sauce off his plate.

He showed no sign of fear even with Dale standing before him with his sword in hand.

If nothing else, he was a man with a lot of guts.

Noticing Dales gaze, the man finally turned his head toward him. He casually tossed his plate to the floor and said,

I warned you that I would kill you if you called someone, but here you are. Seems like youre taking Lord Bordan here too lightly.

With those words, he cast a menacing look at the chief.

The terrified chief stepped back a few paces.

Dale made sure the other residents also moved back before closing the door of the house.

Now, only the two of them remained inside.

Dale glanced around briefly. The floor was littered with plates smeared with food scraps.

The amount was too much for the residents of the underworld, who lived hand to mouth each day.

Dale gripped his sword firmly and took his stance. The situation was clear, and there was no need to question his opponent further.

At this, the man named Bordan chuckled and introduced himself.

I am the former one hundred-soldier captain in the 3rd Legion on the Eastern Front Bordan! I have the accomplishment of having fought alongside the famous Mercenary King against demons and lived to tell the tale!

Bordan rattled off his unasked-for accomplishments then wore a proud expression on his face as if to say, Impressive, isnt it?

Dale responded with calm indifference.

So what?

Bordans face crumpled with irritation, and he muttered coldly.

Very well. It seems I must first teach you some manners, courtesy of Lord Bordan.

Bordan was a hot-tempered man.

With a loud shout, he charged at Dale.

And in an instant, he was holding an axe in each hand.

Despite his fat appearance, his movements were surprisingly agile.

Bordan closed the distance in an instant and swung both axes down at Dale at the same time.

Clash!

Dale twisted his wrist that was holding the longsword to deflect the axe at an angle.

Nevertheless, a considerable shock was transmitted through the sword.

Dale debated retreating for a moment but then dismissed the thought. The confines of the indoor setting offered limited space to maneuver.

Maintaining his ground was important.

Dale then leaned into the successive swings of the hand axe.

The clash of his shoulder guard against the axe blade sent sparks flying, with the axe being repelled, of course.

Bordan momentarily lost his balance and staggered.

Seizing the opportunity, Dale closed the distance and swung his longsword horizontally.

The blade was aimed directly at Bordans neck.

The latters eyes widened in shock.

It was a masterful move. Dale had swiftly closed in, disrupting Bordans balance before striking precisely at a vital spot.

Impressive!

Bordan could sense the depth of experience behind Dales swordplay.

However, Bordan was not lacking in experience either.

In a move no ordinary warrior would dare, he thrust his arm into the path of the longsword aimed at his neck.

An arm was more precious than life itself for warriors.

But Bordan did it.

His arm met the blade.

Slash!

The longsword narrowly grazed Bordans hair, leaving a long wound on his arm.

Dale quickly recovered his sword and was puzzled.

Its a shallow cut.

It was cold. Goosebumps rose on his skin as if someone was whispering curses into his ear.

Bordan who was about to swing his weapon in anger stopped his motion.

Its an illusion. Just an illusion.

Bordan was a warrior who lived on the battlefield for a long time. He had encountered such situations before.

Even in his heightened state of agitation, he managed to cling to a sliver of reason.

Fortunately, its not that powerful.

The mist carried no biting cold that could freeze ones body solid, nor did it harbor a fear that could erode ones sanity just by standing within it.

It merely limited visibility.

Just need to endure until the mist clears and avoid a fatal blow. Any wound that doesnt lead to death only strengthens a berserker.

He would be fine as long as his throat wasnt slit and his heart wasnt pierced.

Then it would be Bordans turn.

Bordan concentrated all his senses on his hearing, readying himself to respond to an attack at any moment.

His heart pounded. Time seemed to crawl in the darkness, or at least, it felt that way.

The end of what felt like an eternity was signaled by the sound of steel slicing through the air.

Hes coming!

He could gauge the direction.

The sound of the sword cutting through the air was unmistakably a thrust. Bordan crossed his hand axes towards the anticipated spot.

And right at that spot, a longsword pierced through the mist.

Clang!

The hand axes and the longsword collided.

Blocked!

Bordan smiled in triumph but his expression quickly twisted into one of horror.

The longsword that was blocked by the hand axes was repelled. But Dale who should have been holding the longsword was nowhere to be found.

It was only then that Bordan realized it wasnt a thrust that he just blocked, but a throw.

Bordan quickly looked up.

Dale had already kicked the ground at the same time as the sound of the weapons clashing, and he was now close at hand.

Bordan was taken aback but also felt a sense of relief. Dale had discarded his longsword; how could he possibly inflict a fatal wound now?

Using a dagger to sever a throat was no easy task.

Just need to cover the heart!

That split-second decision determined the outcome.

Bordan shielded his heart with the axes. And Dale reached out with both hands and seized Bordans head.

And then he twisted.

Bordan who finally grasped Dales intention hurriedly tried to pull back his hands. But it was too late.

Ugh!

Dale was already in position and exerted force.

Bordan struggled desperately to resist, but it was vastly insufficient.

His head turned slowly.

With his face turning beet red, Bordan mustered his last ounce of strength and cried out.

Guuhhhdodont!

Snap.

Bordans head twisted around with the sound of breaking bones. It went beyond a half turn and a little more.

Dale confirmed that Bordan had stopped breathing before releasing his hold.

The look on Bordans face as he lay sprawled on the floor was one of genuine anguish. As if Dale had committed a cowardly act.

You should have known your weaknesses well.

The weakness of a berserker.

When you twist their neck, they die.

Though this is a weakness shared by most living beings.

Dale drove his gauntlet into Bordans corpse.

Life force and soul force flowed into his body. It was a satisfying amount.

***

The residents of the underworld trembled with fear outside the house where the fight took place.

What if the knight loses?

If he does, that fiend will come after all of us.

Shouldnt we be running away by now?

But where could they possibly flee?

The residents of the underworld could only pray fervently.

Praying for Dale to win, to vanquish the cruel warrior, and to bring them peace.

All they could hear now was the clamor of shouts and the swinging of weapons.

Suddenly, the interior that was previously filled with sporadic bursts of mad laughter and fighting fell into silence.

The village chief swallowed hard.

Should he open the door to check inside? Or should he flee while he still could?

As if in answer to his dilemma, the door swung open.

A black mist, not yet fully dissipated, flowed out through the door. And from within that mist, Dale emerged.

A dark knight shrouded in black mist. An apostle of the goddess worshipped by the residents. His aura both mystical and chilling.

Aah.

Unknowingly, the village chief found himself kneeling down. He simply had to kneel.