Holding the Knight's hammer at bay with his gladius, Mahoraga silently cursed. More than an hour had passed since their duel began, and neither of them appeared any closer to backing down.
Worse still, the bastard seemed aware of what Mahoraga was trying to do. Whenever he began adapting to the Knight's style, the stone soldiers would simply abandon it and adopt a different one altogether.
There was no singular pattern to his attacks.
He fought as though he possessed a dozen different styles and saw no reason to limit himself to any one of them.
The transitions were seamless.
Wretchedly, effective too.
Mahoraga had spent the better part of an hour trying to decipher the monster's habits only to discover that the creature seemed to possess remarkably few of them.
The realization was deeply irritating.
Side-stepping the creature's ferocious attack, Mahoraga pivoted on his heel, avoiding yet another alien blow.
How loathsome…
For a brief moment, Mahoraga's mind wandered to how Sunny was faring. No matter what absurd predicament the gnome had gotten himself into, there was no way it was more troublesome than this.
Dying Oath was now enduring even more brutal punishment, each clash pushing it further beyond its limits. Its only reprieve lay in the enchantments woven into it.
Memory: [Dying Oath]
Memory Rank: Awakened
Memory Tier: IV
Memory Type: Weapon
Memory Description: [A moth once tried to turn away from the flame. But the light was too sweet, and the burning too familiar.]
Memory Enchantments: [Burning Desire], [Wavering Will]
Burning Desire - The heart wants what it wants, and it does not care what burns in the wanting.
Wavering Will - It does not know what it is. It only knows what you believe it is.
But even with its enchantments, Dying Oath could only bridge so much of the—
Whoosh!
A deafening roar swallowed his thoughts whole, filling his skull until there was nothing else left — then, just as abruptly, it cut out, leaving behind a hollow, ringing silence.
The sallet he wore caved inward, forcing his chin down against his chest until the ground seemed to tilt up and meet his gaze.
Mahoraga remained swaying. His vision stuttered and broke apart into overlapping layers of motion and colour that refused to align.
W…wh…what?
Reeling his disoriented mind back in, Mahoraga tried steadying himself. Only to discover his body refusing his calls.
Crack!
Suddenly, another blow struck him, this time shattering his breastplate. Mahoraga's body jerked backward as the force ran across his ribs, forcing the air out of his lungs in a violent spew.
His boots scraped against the ground, carving short lines into the sand as he was pushed off balance.
The Knight didn't give him the chance to settle, moving his hammer once again.
Mahoraga twisted his torso at the last instant, letting the next strike glance past his side instead of meeting it head-on. The edge of the blow still caught him, dragging across the side of his armour and sending a fresh jolt through his already rattled frame.
Taking a rabid breath, Mahoraga tried his best to pry away the sallet. His nostrils flaring apart as they tried their best to siphon the abundant air around him.
I can't breathe… I can't breathe… I can't breathe!
Mahoraga fell to one knee, clawing at the mangled sallet with trembling fingers. The twisted metal refused to budge. Every frantic tug only sent another spike of pain through his skull.
The world around him was fading.
Slowly.
Cruelly.
The battlefield became dimmer with each passing second. Colours bled together. Shapes lost their edges. Even the deafening chaos of war seemed distant now, as though it belonged to someone else's battle.
His fingers finally found purchase beneath a bent plate.
But no matter how desperately he pulled, the sallet refused to come free. His movements gradually slowed, his strength bleeding from his limbs with every passing second. The frantic tugs became weaker, more sluggish, until even lifting his arms felt like an impossible task.
Then, just as darkness began creeping over his vision and his eyelids threatened to seal shut… a sharp groan echoed from the twisted metal.
The mangled helmet shifted, buckled, and finally tore loose from his head.
A second later, air finally rushed into his lungs. Mahoraga's chest expanded violently as he dragged in a desperate breath, his body greedily seizing upon the oxygen it had been denied. His eyes fluttered open with a sharp gasp as the darkness receding from his vision reluctantly surrendered its hold.
Unfortunately, consciousness brought with it a rather unpleasant sight.
A massive shadow stretched across his body, swallowing the light above him. Following it upward, Mahoraga found the Stone Knight standing over him, his enormous hammer already raised for the killing blow.
A sudden realisation hit him.
The swine could've killed him at any time during his inelegant struggle for life. Instead, the Knight had simply stood there, looming over him while he struggled to free himself from the sealed helmet.
As though granting him the dignity of facing death with open eyes.
Mahoraga stared up at the towering figure watching him. The silence between them was thick and suffocating, broken only by his uneven breathing. Blood dripped from his chin into the sand as he laid there, still struggling against the aftermath of the attack.
His lips quivered.
And a dry, breathless laugh slipped out before he could stop it.
"Well then…"
His voice came out hoarse and rough, teetering on the edge of madness.
"What are you waiting for? …Do it!"
The Knight did not hesitate.
The hammer descended in a single monotonous arc. There was no flourish to it, no emotion, no grandeur. It was as though he took no joy in his execution.
Mahoraga did not close his eyes. He watched the flat surface of the stone weapon expand until it filled his entire field of view, the sheer compression of air before it flattening his hair against his blood-slicked forehead.
What a string of misfortune…
A defying smile played on his lips as he thought back to the unfortunate events that led to this wretched circumstance.
Ah! Whatever.
There was little point dwelling on his misfortune. If Mahoraga had learned anything from life, it was that the universe rarely cared about what was fair.
For some reason, that thought reminded him of an ancient — a piece of wisdom he had always considered complete rubbish.
Long before the Golden Age. Before Heroes walked the earth. Before Gods ruled the heavens. In the distant Age of Chaos, there existed a saying:
Heaven always leaves a path; so long as you choose to walk, a road will appear.
Mahoraga had always thought that saying was complete nonsense.
Life had never once gone out of its way to leave him a path. More often than not, it had buried him beneath a mountain and expected him to claw his way out through sheer spite.
Still.
If there truly was a road…
Then it had impeccable timing.
A line of fire tore across the battlefield.
It arrived without warning, without sound that mattered over the roar of war, a condensed streak of burning force that carved through the air like a blade made of flame itself.
It struck the Knight cleanly.
The impact was instantaneous.
A thunderous explosion rolled across the battlefield as the condensed lance of flame struck the Stone Knight squarely in the torso. Cracks raced across its body, glowing faintly beneath the stone as the force of the attack lifted him off his feet and hurled him sideways.
The executioner's hammer missed Mahoraga by less than a meter. It slammed into the sand beside him with enough force to throw up a wall of dust and shattered stone.
Apparently, heaven did leave him a path.
Slowly, Mahoraga turned his head toward the source of the attack.
Across the battlefield, a familiar figure stood amidst a sea of broken stone.
The scarred Awakened was covered in dust, blood, and debris. Around him lay a trail of destruction so excessive that it resembled the aftermath of a natural disaster.
For several seconds, he could do nothing but blink, his battered mind slowly piecing together what had just occurred.
Then the events took a turn so ridiculous that even he hadn't seen it coming.
Soldiers flooded into the breach Rath had carved open, pouring through the shattered formations before the Stone Legion could reorganize. What had begun as a single rupture rapidly expanded into something far worse.
Their forces surged forward in an unrelenting tide that devoured everything in front of it. Their expressions barbaric and ruthless as they slaughtered a division between the Stone Army.
Mahoraga watched the transformation unfold with growing astonishment.
Only minutes earlier, the Freehold had been desperately trying to contain a breach in their own lines. Now thousands of soldiers were driving deeper and deeper into the enemy formation, widening the path Rath created.
The Stone Saints tried to intercept them.
But it was too late.
The momentum had shifted to them.
"It seems they're wrapping up their end."
Mahoraga muttered, unable to keep the faint chirp of satisfaction from his voice. Slowly, he pushed himself upright and turned to face the Knight once more.
Blood still stained his face, one of his eyes were crushed flat until it merged seamlessly into the ruined socket of his eye. His armor hung in tatters, and every muscle screamed in agony — but a proud smile nevertheless spread across his lips.
"You know... I'll lose a lot of face if my cohort finishes first."
He raised the Knight's weapon against him.
"So why don't we end this?"
The Knight offered no reply.
He didn't need to.
The faint gleam that appeared in his stone eyes and the deep breath he drew into his massive chest conveyed his answer far more clearly than words ever could.