Berserker – Part 05
Sensing something unusual, the soldiers of the small nation began to surround the unexpected visitors.
Eliza Eva, with their peculiar, alternating voices, continued their conversation.
“Who’s going first, Eva?”
“Good question, Eliza. I believe you are more suited for this situation.”
“All righty, then. Leave it to me. Hilda, don’t interfere. This one’s mine.”
The black-clad attendant nodded and stepped back a few paces. The armored warrior followed suit, distancing himself from Eliza Eva.
The soldiers stood ready, wondering what was about to happen.
Eliza Eva chanted, “Unshackle from slumber. Burn your eyes. Let the light turn to ash. Slay God.”
Blinding white light engulfed the area. It erupted from beneath Eliza Eva’s feet, consuming her entirely before shooting skyward. The phenomenon lasted less than a heartbeat. As the surrounding soldiers temporarily lost their sight to the searing brilliance, the radiant beam of light pierced through the clouds above.
Silence fell. Regaining their vision, the soldiers panicked when they realized that the woman in the dress had vanished. Where she had been standing, there was nothing but a small crater, as though the ground itself had erupted.
“What was that?!”
“A Prayer Pact?”
“Hey, where did that woman go?”
One soldier pressed for answers from the female attendant and the armored warrior. The silent warrior raised a finger to the sky.
“Above?”
The moment they looked up, a sword fell from the sky. With its tip pointing downward, it sliced through the air and plunged sharply into the ground.
“A shamshir?” someone murmured.
It was a shamshir, a weapon with a gently arched blade resembling a crescent moon. The distinctive feature of the weapon was its hilt, which curved in the opposite direction of the blade.
The soldiers silently shared the same bewildered thought. Why had such a weapon fallen from the sky?
Upon seeing the black-armored warrior slowly draw the sword from the ground, the soldiers finally broke free from their confusion. They didn’t know what was happening, but one thing was clear: an imperial soldier stood before them, weapon in hand. They had to stay focused.
The warrior shifted the shamshir horizontally into a combat stance…
“Drop your wea—”
…and swept it sideways.
None of the soldiers could comprehend what had just occurred.
A small explosion of light followed the slash, and where the blade had passed, countless sparks swelled up. The resulting shockwave hurled the soldiers away like scattered leaves. Some rolled across the ground, others fell into the moat, and some were slammed into the earthen walls. Though their fates differed, they all shared the same outcome: they were all knocked unconscious by a single stroke.
The sharp scent of scorched flesh filled the air, causing the distant female attendant to grimace.
The soldiers sprawled lifelessly on the ground twitched faintly, their limbs quivering as tiny sparks of light crackled over their bodies. The black-armored warrior stepped over them and headed for the gate ahead.
The gate was firmly shut. Its size hinted at considerable thickness, and every corner was reinforced with metal fittings. It seemed unlikely that anything short of extraordinary force could breach it.
The warrior raised the shamshir high, then brought it down upon the gate’s center.
A thunderous explosion shook the earth, reducing the gate to splinters as though it had been no more than a flimsy wooden board.
Aria was the first to notice the disturbance.
Wrapped in a blanket in the corner of the bungalow, she slowly opened her eyes as Cecily gently shook her awake. Still lying down, she blinked rapidly, peering up at Cecily’s face through half-closed lids.
“Wake up, Aria. It’s already morning. Let’s wrap up here for now and head back to the inn.”
Aria moved sluggishly.
“Aren’t you hungry? Let’s get something delicious for breakfast. What’s famous in this country—”
“Hey,” Aria murmured softly. “What’s that sound?”
“Sound?”
Cecily finally noticed it too. Perhaps her exhaustion and lack of sleep had dulled her senses. From outside the house came the sound of loud voices and footsteps. Normally, such noise wouldn’t be worth noting, but something about it felt off.
“That… sounds like screaming, doesn’t it?”
Turning back, Cecily saw Luke frowning deeply. Ewen, listening intently, also looked uneasy.
The word “screaming” stirred an ominous feeling in Cecily. Stumbling over piles of documents scattered across the floor and against the bookshelves, she dashed outside. She squinted as the bright sunlight pierced her eyes.
The air was chilly. Yesterday, having arrived under the cover of night, Cecily couldn’t make out much of the town. But now, in the daylight, she could clearly see the rows of houses. They reminded her somewhat of the residential districts in the Independent Trade City. She realized how the birthplace of the first Housman blended seamlessly into its surroundings.
But none of that mattered now.
“This way, quickly!”
People were fleeing in panic. Women clutching infants, young men carrying the elderly, and traveling merchants. Everyone scrambled to escape something, directed by shouting soldiers.
Luke and the others, having followed Cecily outside, froze at the sight.
One of the soldiers yelled, “It’s the Empire!”
Cecily’s heart skipped a beat. The Empire?
She recalled hearing that this small nation had long been at odds with the former Empire, repeatedly refusing annexation demands. But this chaos was far from normal. If the former Empire had come here, it wasn’t for negotiations.
“They’re attacking?!”
As soon as realization dawned, Cecily turned to run in the opposite direction of the fleeing crowd.
A hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her. It was Luke. Narrowing his right eye, he reprimanded her sternly, “What are you trying to do?”
“The Empire is here. I have to go!”
“And what are you, an outsider, going to do about it?”
His words hit her like a blow. She had moved on instinct the moment she heard Empire, but this wasn’t her homeland. This wasn’t the Independent Trade City. It wasn’t her responsibility to defend this country.
Cecily glanced back at the people fleeing past her.
“Leave it to this country’s soldiers for now. They’re not powerless. You don’t have to take everything upon yourself.”
“Fine,” she reluctantly agreed.
“I get how you feel,” Luke said. “If they’ve brought out one of those Inhuman weapons, no one will stand a chance.”
Cecily thought back to the Inhuman weapons that annihilated the Militant Nation’s elite forces. She and Luke had faced the modified Inhumans of the former Empire in a fierce battle and barely emerged victorious—but only due to Aria, the Infernal Blade, and Lisa’s demonic ability, Infernal Bladecraft. Cecily doubted this nation had the means to repel such a threat.
“But I doubt they can deploy those things easily. If their opponent is human, then—” Luke’s words were cut off as the world was engulfed in a blinding white.
A deafening roar like a thunderclap overwhelmed their ears, while a flash of light stole their sight. Unable even to register her own scream, Cecily could do nothing but brace herself against the blast of wind that followed moments later.
The shockwave subsided as abruptly as the lightning had struck.
“Wh-What just happened?”
Aria’s dazed voice pulled Cecily back. Lowering the arm she had instinctively used to shield her head, she cautiously surveyed her surroundings. Dust hung in the air, making visibility poor, but she could discern people who had been knocked over struggling to their feet.
Noticing Luke staring wide-eyed at something, Cecily followed his gaze.
“What is that?”
Her breath caught.
A house that had stood just moments before was gone, entirely obliterated. Shards of debris scattered across the area seemed to be all that remained. While the walls of neighboring homes bore cracks, they had largely withstood the blast. Only that one house appeared to have been completely destroyed, as though its very existence had been erased.
In the space left behind stood a single mass of iron. A warrior clad in pitch-black, full plate armor. Smoke rose from its surface, likely a remnant of the explosion. In its right hand, it held a curved sword—a shamshir.
The towering figure, fully encased in armor, exuded an ominous weight in its stance.
The soldiers resumed evacuating the civilians who had lingered too long, while forming a loose perimeter around the warrior. But the oppressive aura emanating from the figure made them hesitate.
There was a crackle. Sparks danced across the surface of the shamshir in the warrior’s hand. It was clearly not a Prayer Pact phenomenon, and given the earlier display of power, its nature was unmistakable.
“Another Infernal Blade,” Luke muttered bitterly. Beside him, someone shifted uneasily.
Cecily turned and saw Ewen, his face drained of color. “Ewen?”
Aria leaned forward. “Ewen, go with the townspeople and evacuate.”
“What about you, Aria?”
“We’ll be fine. We’re invincible.” Aria placed a hand on Cecily’s shoulder, then glanced at Luke.
“Looks like we don’t have a choice.” Luke sighed, already securing a katana to his waist. He must have brought it earlier. “We haven’t finished reviewing the records yet. Leaving empty-handed isn’t an option.”
Aria and Luke turned to Cecily, waiting for her decision.
Facing an Infernal Blade with ordinary human strength was a losing battle. The soldiers here were no match for that warrior. And yet, by sheer coincidence, this place had both a knight wielding an Infernal Blade and a blacksmith carrying a katana.
“No need to ask at this point. I just told you earlier.” Cecily pouted. “I needed to go.”
Aria chanted fast, “Unshackle from slumber. Seize the truth. The wind, in my hand. Slay God.”
Comment (0)