Splashing blood drops and approaching death.
A duel with a swordsman who draws a swarm of light.
Facing the brilliant light he had longed for.
Every time the light hit its body, every time it felt pain, the beast remembered the past. The lost past. The beast’s muscles contracted as the memories returned. The gigantic body shrunk with a grunt.
The body size, which was three or four times that of a human, suddenly shrunk to about half that size. As it decreased, the compressed muscles and leather became tougher. The beast no longer hung its arms and bent its back. Slowly, the beast’s back straightened.
The beast’s eyes sank.
“To me, names have no value.”
“It’s gone.”
A voice rang in the beast’s ears.
It was the human voice that the beast tried to understand for the first time, and the human scream that it could not understand in the end.
“It’s a name that means nothing to me anymore. Because you killed everyone, even those who knew my name and those who would call my name. yes?”
So, said the human.
“You take it.”
“I can’t give you anything, but I can give you your name. So you take it.”
By taking her own life, the woman gave a name to the animal that loved her.
“Barta.”
“That’s my name.”
The moment I remembered that name.
The beast regained all its memories. He recalled the path he had walked. Countless memories engulfed the beast like waves, awakening its reason.
That’s how the beast becomes king.
The noble king of demonic beasts.
Barta, the king of demonic beasts, opened his eyes.
2.
Lark, who was swinging his sword, suddenly realized something.
That the beast he was dealing with was changing. Lark intuitively realized that he was changing into something completely different from what he was now.
The atmosphere, air, and flow change.
The future that Lark was seeing was shaken.
The movement that had been unfolded through future predictions began to break off one by one as hundreds and thousands of sword paths spread out in the air. It even looks like the beast in front of you is split into dozens.
Grumble, I said.
Blood flowed from Lark’s eye, where a vein had burst. Lark gritted his teeth and swung his sword. But the balance has already been broken. Slowly, Lark began to be pushed back.
and.
“······.”
This is the moment when the beast’s eyes sink.
The future that Lark was chasing was completely shattered. A beast reached out from beyond the shattered and torn future city. The moment his hand and the blade collided, Lark’s body floated in the air.
“···!”
Kaaaaaaaaaa!
Lark fell to the floor with a loud noise that seemed to tear his eardrums. Lark, who barely stood up with the holy sword stuck on the floor, raised his head. The beast did not chase Lark, but was just glaring at Lark in silence.
Eerily quiet eyes.
Eventually, the beast opened its mouth. There was no longer any sound of blood bubbling. All that can be heard is a human voice echoing through the air.
“···iced coffee.”
A quiet voice echoed through the air.
Eventually, the beast slowly, very slowly lowered its head. It is too high to express submission, but too low to be arrogant. The beast stopped its head in an appropriate position and opened its mouth to speak.
“Thank you for reminding me of pride.”
He lowered his head, but his eyes were focused on Lark. Lark’s eyes trembled. thanks? what? The moment the beast that had brutally torn apart warriors like his family expressed its gratitude in human language, Lark felt his head turn white.
“My name is Barta.”
Barta stretched out his hand.
Barta roughly pulled out the right arm that did not belong to him. Flesh and dark red blood flew out in all directions with a popping, popping sound.
Huh.
Barta lightly swung his right arm, which he had pulled out. The wind blew along the trajectory of his right arm, and his snowflakes rose into the sky. The skin of the demonic beast that was attached to his bones also fell away with the wind.
All that remains are straight bones.
Although it is crude, it has the shape of a sword. Barta aimed the sword made of bone at Lark.
“I’m a prosecutor.”
A person who lives by the sword.
A person who proves his life with a sword.
“What is your name?”
There was no name to reveal to the beast.
Lark stood up with gritted teeth. He stretched out his knees with a grunt and lunged at the beast. Although his body was already at its limit, Lark ran faster than ever.
Numerous futures are drawn before our eyes.
Numerous sword paths were visible.
Lark swung his great sword with his eyes still vaguely familiar with it. Even in his unstable posture, the trajectory drawn by the tip of his sword is close to perfect. But Lark’s sword can never be perfect.
Because of shaking. Because I lack understanding of swords.
Lark has not yet reached the level reached by swordsmen who devoted their lives to a single sword.
so that.
Crispy.
The unsafe future that Rak envisioned is completely shattered. Just as the sword was about to reach Varta, all of the blades disappeared before Lark’s eyes. He could no longer see a path to victory. And, in the time that seemed to have stopped, Barta moved.
The sword swung like a flash, splitting the moment.
The swung sword swallowed Lark’s sword. The sword strike from below soared into the sky, catching Lark’s sword as it fell like a guillotine.
Kaaaaaaaa!
——————
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Lark’s shoulders tilted back. Lark’s shoulder was dislocated with a popping sound. Although he only clashed once, Lark was forced to realize the weight of his opponent’s skill.
Crack.
Grinding his teeth, Lark grabbed my shoulder with his other arm and pressed the bones together. He twisted his body in place and swung his sword. He brought out all the skills he knew, all the things he had learned.
But it doesn’t work.
Everything was completely destroyed. No matter how neatly the technique was deployed, no matter how many variables he tried to extract, the opponent was one step ahead of him. As if I could see the future.
Squeak.
Every time the beast lightly swung his sword, Lark had to clash his swords with the readiness to die. He didn’t even last long. Lark was thrown out and rolled on the floor. Lark’s hand holding the sword trembled.
Powerlessness, humiliation, and hatred.
When you look up, the beast is still looking down at you. Without pursuing Lark, he opened his mouth and asked Lark: He asked again.
“I asked your name.”
Lark staggered to his feet.
He raised his sword without saying a word. That meant there was no name to announce, and even if the name was not revealed, one thing was clear. Lark has not yet accepted defeat.
Seeing that sight, Barta took a calm stance.
No further conversation was necessary.
To ignore something is an insult to the other person. It is trampling on the other person’s pride. If the other person doesn’t reveal their name, I’ll just respect it. That’s why Barta let out a long breath.
Cooung.
He took a strong step forward with his left leg.
He stretched out his artificially created right leg, which was not his own. The breath I exhaled was calm.
“······.”
The air was shaking.
Lark also prepared the final blow. Although it was only for a moment, the raging snowstorm soared into the sky.
3.
Rania touched the crystal ball.
The orb that Cardi sent to the front line contained information related to the King of Demon Beasts. Because Rania satisfied all the conditions, she was able to access the information without difficulty and learned more about the King of Demon Beasts.
The name is Barta.
The origin of the name is unknown.
Although he did not tell that name to anyone, the King of Demon Beasts called himself that during the reunion battle with Ganicalt. Barta, says.
“Hmm…”
Rania tapped the crystal ball.
Rania read through all the memories Cardi had stored in the beads, and could not help but sigh at the end.
“It’s going to spin, really.”
Barta, the king of demonic beasts.
Rania saw through the crystal ball the scene of that being fighting with Ganicalt. There was really no exaggeration in the word whistle.
Each inflicts fatal injuries on the other.
Blood is splashing out.
A fierce battle of resistance at the border between life and death.
There was a fight there that made the dividing line between victory and defeat infinitely meaningless. Rania let out a long sigh and tilted her head back.
“Whoa…”
Galatric type.
Rania had to face the so-called swordsmanship again and again. From Kuntel, the sword superman, from Ganicalt, the sword of death, and from Kyle.
The sword technique varied greatly depending on the path taken by the person holding the sword. Although the roots were in the same place, the branches and forms of technology spread out in various directions. Among them, there were sword techniques that were far from the original style…
‘It’s all so picky. ‘To the point where it’s annoying.’
It’s so tricky.
Rania’s expression scrunched up as she recalled the time when she collided with the sword of heaven. As I fumbled with her chest, which had a hole in it for no reason, she let out a moan.
It was a memory I really didn’t want to recall. Even if she were to face Kyle again now, Rania couldn’t be sure of her victory.
Horribly tricky swordsmanship.
It is enough to be called the magician’s natural enemy, and is a swordsmanship that is at the top of all techniques.
“however.”
Rania tapped the crystal ball.
“Is this guy like Galatric again?”
A fierce battle in memory.
The king of demonic beasts, Barta, used the same swordsmanship as Ganikalt. Ganicalt’s sword, which cut through the waves of demonic beasts in one blow, was countered with the same technique.
That means…
“The same thing is possible.”
Just by showing up there.
Ganicalt was called the ‘sword of death’ because it could wipe out all those holding the sword with just a light swing of the sword. It was called the most fearful disaster.
If only something like that were possible.
It was necessary to prevent the completion of the King of Demon Beasts at all costs. Rania felt that way.
* * *
It is the moment to swing the sword.
Lark saw Barta’s sword swinging before him. The crude sword moved slowly over a long period of time. The moment the tip of his sword touched the rising snow, snowflakes exploded.
Snowflakes, snowflakes, tiny white particles.
It breaks down into even smaller pieces than that.
When I felt that it could not be split any further, the sword of Varta advanced, returning everything it touched to nothingness. This is the moment when the tip of the sword draws a complete trajectory.
Tick, tiddididdiq.
The snow that had piled up on the ground was pushed along the path. The space screamed along the path of the sword. The space that had been cut out was instantly filled and the wind rushed in.
In the rushing wind.
A rotten smell resembling death emerged.
‘···ah.’
In front of the approaching sword attack, Lark realized.
Can’t win. Can’t fight back. What is coming is death. There was no escape from death. The tip of the sword that Lark was swinging shook.
‘Die.’
I can’t achieve anything.
Without being able to take revenge.
I die right here.
‘no.’
Lark doesn’t accept that fact. The tip of his shaking sword became quiet in an instant. Lark has heard this from his warriors time and time again.
“A warrior must be a warrior until the moment of death.”
“Resist until the end.”
Lark struggled in the face of death.
The holy sword wielded by Lark collided with the oncoming death. The sound of metal clashing against metal does not resonate. No sound was heard. In the silence, the space began to creak and tear around the place where they met.
The space was torn apart without a sound.
The torn space is repaired, torn again, and filled again. The shock and wind generated as the space filled continued to hit Lark’s body. Lark’s entire body creaked and made a tearing sound.
Squeak, squeak!
gets pushed back
I keep getting pushed out. But Lark never let go of his sword. He held on strongly to the sword that was about to fly away, gritted his teeth, and endured the impact.
Patter.
Dark red blood flowed.
Blood was flowing out of my eyes, ears, nose, and mouth like crazy. However, even though Lark was pushed away, he still swung his sword. The influx of death began to separate.
Squeak.
Lark’s sword cuts down death.
Only one piece was cut. Death stretched out next to Lark with a sound of cutting the air, cutting the forest spread out behind him in half. As the sound of a tree falling echoed behind him, Lark suddenly vomited blood.
Although I cut it down.
I didn’t win.
Lark fell to his knees, coughing up blood. The fierce snowstorm cleared and Barta appeared. Barta stretched out his hand and was smoothing his chest.
“······.”
Lark’s sword slashed through death.
The sword strike split Barta’s skin, albeit very shallowly. Looking at his blood-stained hands, Barta quietly raised his sword.
As if to show respect.
“Next.”
The moment I swung the sword.
The moment he faced the human who cut his sword strike, the King of Demonic Beasts realized according to his instincts. The potential that the other person has. The future of humans reaching new heights. The level that person will reach is clearly a threat to himself.
That’s why I have to kill him now.
“I promise next time.”
Barta pays homage to the person who awakened pride in him.
“next time.”
Beyond the snowfields, outside the north.
He said as he walked back to where he came from.
“I hope I can hear your name.”
The king of demonic beasts moves away.
Lark gritted his teeth as he watched the being moving away. He grabbed his sword and tried to stand up. However, the body, which had already reached its limit, did not move. Lark let out a scream as he knelt down.
I screamed and hit the floor.
On a snowy field where the corpses of warriors lie scattered, Lark ponders his humiliation. Feeling helpless and unable to achieve anything, Lark gritted his teeth and let out a scream.
On this day.
The Guardian of the North could not protect it.
Even the humans of the North that he had to protect.
Even your own pride.
The pride of the insulted warriors.
None of this could be protected.
fantasy,
