Chapter: 370
I let out a chuckle at the madman’s insane remarks but quickly regained my composure. Dorgon’s raid plan had derailed from the start, and though we had ended up in that dreadful place where countless had perished, strangely, I felt more relieved than disgusted.
—
‘Is this what I desired, too?’
I couldn’t let my private feelings jeopardize national affairs. I reasoned with myself, but deep down, I didn’t want to. I wanted to end this nightmare myself—alone, from our group of seven, I, the only one who hadn’t died, wished to kill the remnants of Kagan with my own hands.
—
The memories of constantly missing Dorgon over the past two years, the humiliation of not being able to catch him for three years, and the pain of battling again after a revolt flooded my mind, but I forced myself to suppress those thoughts.
—
‘Not this time.’
But now, there was no need to hold back anymore. Thanks to Dorgon’s strategy, we ended up in a one-on-one situation. I had no choice but to fight alone.
—
“Just as I thought.”
Dorgon, watching me, nodded with satisfaction.
—
“I knew you’d like this.”
His words made me laugh. For reasons unknown, the laughter just kept coming.
—
Then, I quietly spoke.
—
“It’ll be nice to commemorate this, no matter the outcome.”
“A loser will remain in the victor’s memory, eternally etched in the continent’s history. Isn’t that splendid?”
Once again, Dorgon responded with a mindless retort and got off his horse, so I decided to dismount as well.
—
After all, if it’s a one-on-one, I would kill his mount first. If that was the case, I should at least let him live so the winner could return comfortably. Oddly, our thoughts aligned in such a peculiar way.
—
“I am Dorgon of the Udesser Tribe, Khan of the Gaar Khanate.”
With each step forward, Dorgon spoke with a faint smile.
—
An unexpected introduction. There was no reason or need to introduce ourselves so calmly between us.
—
“I am Carl Krasius of the House of Krasius, Count of the Kefellofen Empire, heir to the family.”
—
But I played along. Again, I had no idea why.
—
“A Count, huh? That’s a bit low for someone facing a Khan.”
“The only Emperor under Heaven is His Majesty. You are merely a clan chief.”
“Ha! It’s amusing that someone who’s never stepped foot on the plains calls himself a Khan.”
—
Dorgon, chortling, slowly wiped the grin off his face. He raised his sword in front of him as if about to charge.
—
“Five years is sufficient for a grudge.”
“It could’ve ended in two years if you hadn’t run.”
—
At that moment, Dorgon and I both kicked off the ground and charged forward.
—
– ■■■■■■■■──!!!
—
As our swords clashed, a loud noise erupted, and the ground split apart.
—
Now, what would fill the air is just the sound of our bones cracking.
—
The original owner of this body had trained in the swordsmanship of the House of Krasius. Therefore, during the possession process, I acquired the memories of that swordsmanship and continued my training, thus I could handle it to some extent.
—
However, that swordsmanship was not something I built from scratch; it was merely inherited memories. I didn’t hone these moves myself from the basics. No matter how vivid the memories and habits were, there were limits to extracting that skill. Other possessors gained abilities they’d never had, while I felt robbed since I couldn’t even maintain the abilities I already had.
—
Anyway, the half-baked skills I had learned was thrown into the hellish battlefield where the Empire’s survival was on the line five years ago. To survive in that hell, I had no choice but to master a swordsmanship that fit my body, whether it belonged to Krasius or not.
—
‘But is it even right to call this swordsmanship?’
I, a half-baked warrior, learned a messy swordsmanship focused on practical combat—truth be told, it was a chaotic hodgepodge. Style and form had long been disregarded. I merely learned to swing my weapons faster, stronger, and more than my enemies.
—
I hadn’t just learned swordsmanship but also techniques for spears, bows, and daggers; I had become some kind of abominable hybrid. So, even if I referred to myself as a swordsman, I couldn’t genuinely say I had mastered any swordsmanship. That was my last shred of dignity.
—
But strangely enough, I wasn’t the only one with a chaotic style. Dorgon, the son of a b who survived the bloody world of the plains, showcased a mixed martial art that had no clear foundation either.
—
Naturally, that son of a b was Dorgon.
—
‘Dammit.’
Dorgon’s blade pierced through my solar plexus, causing my body to crumple, but I immediately shoved my sword hilt into my chin. It hadn’t penetrated deeply enough to make me immobile, but it was lodged just enough to delay pulling it back. I couldn’t slice him while in that position, but I could still give him a whack.
—
Dorgon, who had hurt me in return, quickly retreated while spitting out blood.
—
‘Ha.’
He seemed to be in better shape than I expected. I thought I’d take out a few teeth at least.
—
“You’re just a damned druggie.”
“Is that something you should be saying?”
—
Instinctively, I retorted at Dorgon, who laughed and spat blood. Of course, I acknowledged my use of various potions, not only enhancing magic and holy magic. I did come prepared, but I didn’t want to hear it from another drug addict.
—
Dorgon and I clashed many, many times. During those encounters, I had stabbed his abdomen, dislocated his shoulder, and shattered his kneecap.
—
Yet he moved as if none of it mattered. Unless he imbibed some copious illegal substances, there was no way he could manage that.
—
‘Just fed.’
That’s why I hated that guy. A practitioner of unorthodox mixed martial arts leaves you guessing where the next attack might come from, and being the type of guy who values his life over his pride, he casually dopes himself up. It’s not a mirror match, but fighting someone who shares the same traits isn’t exactly pleasant.
—
Besides, I had fought him too often. We had clashed many times without either of us dying, allowing us to learn each other’s characteristics and tendencies.
—
The more we clashed, the lower my chances of winning became. Just as much as I knew about him, he knew about me too. It was blatantly obvious where attacks would come from and how I’d respond.
—
‘A protracted battle is impossible.’
With my left arm somewhat limp, I forced it back into place and began to think. Full doping was about not leaving any stones unturned, which makes sustaining a long battle impossible. If I pushed it too hard, my body wouldn’t hold up, and the enhancements would wear off.
—
In such a circumstance, the opponent is also a doping addict. No matter how much I slashed him, he remained unscathed, and even if I broke something, it would heal immediately, making it impossible to finish things off swiftly. I must admit, Tala’s praise of him being a monstrous bastard was well-deserved.
—
‘This is crazy.’
As Dorgon charged again, I recalled the nightmares of my past. Each time I faced him, I vowed I would end him in the next fight. I had truly fought with all my power.
—
Yet, with him, the final word had never been decided. I feared the same damn situation would repeat itself again. To fight so hard in what felt like our last battle only to part ways again saying, “See you next time,” would be too cruel.
—
Maybe Dorgon had the same thought. His strikes grew even wilder. I was prepared to face my nemesis in this spot where his father had died, yet the prospect of us both returning unscathed was turning serious.
—
‘I can’t help it.’
I leaned back to dodge an incoming strike, which I took on my chest instead. A wound opened, and blood poured out, but my distance to Dorgon closed significantly.
—
‘As long as I don’t die.’
I braced for a serious injury. I abandoned defense and evasion to take the offensive. Dorgon’s resilience was on par with mine, but the chance of killing him increased slightly if I focused solely on attacking.
—
If he dodged, he’d lose his stance, and if he got struck, the shock would stack. Either way, it was a win-win situation.
—
– Thinking this, I swung my sword, only for Dorgon to block it with his mouth.
—
More precisely, he bit down on the blade with his teeth.
—
“You bastard.”
—
Unable to contain myself, I shouted.
—
He was truly a beast of a fellow.
—
Halfway through a wound in my side, I quickly staunched the bleeding. I smashed his knee, but it healed. My ear was ripped, but quickly regenerated. The cut on Dorgon’s cheek healed right back up.
—
Clearly, we kept exacting damage on one another, but neither of us could overwhelm the other. To break this stalemate, I needed to sever at least one of his limbs.
—
‘The problem is I can’t.’
—
Naturally, a fighter who manipulates mana can harden their body, and with enhancements on top, my ordinary attacks could damage skin and muscle but not cleave a limb.
—
Of course, if I aimed for a decisive blow against the heart, it could obliterate enhancements and doping. But Dorgon isn’t a fool to just watch; you know he’d come charging in to stab me in the heart when I did.
—
No matter how many enhancements he had on, if someone stabs you in the heart point-blank, you’re dead—
—
‘…Ah.’
In that instant, Tala’s face flashed through my mind.
—
“Krasius Carl, you and I are equals! Wouldn’t it be better to land our strongest blows on each other and finish this?”
—
If I was worried about outside interference, I could just create an environment where no one could disturb us. It was a simple and clear solution, but one that the perpetrator couldn’t even imagine.
—
“Dorgon!”
—
Despite my shout, there was no response from Dorgon. He seemed set on swinging his sword just once more before speaking.
—
That was a natural reaction. Honestly, until now, swapping fiery banter had seemed bizarre; maintaining silence while facing an enemy is the norm.
—
However, my next words were enough to make Dorgon flinch.
—
“We are equals! Instead of repeating the events of three years ago, let us deal our strongest blows to each other and finish this!”
—
“…What?”
—
Dorgon understood what the term “strongest blow” meant. Ever since Kagan exhibited his downfall, ‘strongest blow’ from the North has only referenced that technique.
—
What other technique could possibly shake the heavens and cause the earth to tremble?
—
*
—
It was confusing. I couldn’t understand what that guy was saying.
—
“If we fight like this, we’ll end up going back without either of us dying. I decided to face death before the fallen, yet we’ll both be alive.”
—
Yet strangely, my heart burned with a fiery passion.
—
“The strongest, indeed.”
—
I fought to suppress that heat as I spoke.
—
“I don’t believe you casually tossed that word around.”
—
If that suggestion was a trap, the battle could end in vain.
—
But oddly enough, my mind was suspicious and cautious, yet my heart screamed to accept it.
—
“Think of Tala.”
—
That made me chuckle.
—
Why are there so many crazy bastards in this era?
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