Chapter 893 - Carni Festa
The owner of the club had black skin.
Even darker than Nurat's.
They said there were many black people in the South, and he seemed to prove those words.
Ragna failed to gauge the opponent's skill at a glance.
What does that imply?
'A guy who knows how to fight.'
Enkrid divides the hierarchy of knights, but in Ragna's world, there are only two hierarchies.
One is a guy who doesn't know how to fight.
Whether called a knight or not, a guy who doesn't know how to fight is just similar to a semi-knight or a knight to him.
Two is a guy who knows how to fight.
The standard dividing the two is exceedingly simple and clear.
Can Ragna easily gauge their skill with his own eyes, or can he not?
The opponent spun the club held in his hand round and round.
Blue light lingered on the hexagonal lump of iron.
A certain type of Valerian steel is referred to as True Iron..., and it was an inscribed weapon forged from metal with similar hardness.
Ragna's gaze didn't leave the eyes of the guy holding the club.
Precisely, he had already finished preparing to fight.
Ragna's eyes, looking indifferent and relaxed, captured the opponent's whole body in his view.
Spinning the club round and round is just intended to annoy the nerves.
While taking that action, his shoulder line didn't move even a little.
Ragna knew the difference since he was young.
Now he looks at the shoulder line, but at other times, he used to notice the opponent's next move just by looking at the direction of their toes.
It was the same this time too.
"Passing through? What kind of bullshit is that now? I'm not here to die either. Who are you really?"
Ragna saw that the opponent had a habit of asking questions whenever he opened his mouth.
It was seen through intuition, but it was the correct answer.
"Hey, who are you?"
He asks again, holding the mace handle with both hands and pulling it back.
At a glance, it looks messy, but the skill handling the weapon was no joke.
It only looked lax because he was skilled.
Also, this time it's real.
A skilled person sufficient to be called a knight.
The opponent's momentum clumps and takes form.
Even without intending, he naturally reached the change in the nature of Will.
"Ragna of the Madmen."
Thinking, he answers shortly.
"What? You bastard are crazy. Coming all the way in here?"
The opponent also opened his mouth as if responding.
Even while asking and answering, Ragna didn't stop analyzing the opponent.
He read the attack tactics the opponent was taking.
That heavy mace would be used in a similar way to the principle of using a heavy sword.
'If I dodge, I give up the advantage and get driven into defense.'
If he blocks, the opponent puts forward force enough to make his hands numb.
Probably that fellow possesses various attack means besides heavy blows swung vertically, horizontally, or diagonally.
For example, he would be skilled in miscellaneous techniques like using hands and feet in a different rhythm while swinging the mace.
No, he is skilled.
It's a certainty.
If not, it's a bad method to use.
'The more I block, the more disadvantage I have.'
Even if dodging, it's defensive, and if blocking repeatedly, should one call it a method to multiply impact and dull the sensation in both hands?
Even without exchanging blows a few times, the essence of the technique the opponent possesses is visible.
A faint light flows in Ragna's eyes.
He intended to kill the opponent here.
That will becomes killing intent and tightens around the opponent.
"This bastard? You have no tact, do you?"
The opponent also asks feeling that killing intent.
Not thinking of running away here, but challenging?
"Do I look easy to you?"
The opponent talks a lot.
Spitting words incessantly.
Ragna knows what to do in times like this.
He captured the appropriate moment and gave a single-word answer.
"Yeah."
"Die."
The opponent said filled with anger.
Today too, the provocation was successful.
***
A few officers took the soldiers whose formation collapsed and withdrew.
Because a crazy bastard intruded, the vanguard unit was split in two.
One of the officers led the remaining unit and reorganized.
It was an excellent response.
Monsters should be left to monsters.
'Damn bastard.'
The officer cursed inwardly, shouted, and waved his hands.
"Move! Go forward! Don't look back!"
The remaining one elephant headed forward.
That one barely survived.
The rider hurriedly swung the whip urging the elephant.
Jjak! Jjak!Kkueoeo!
It wouldn't even tickle, but knowing the intention of the whip through years of training, the elephant took steps without resting.
"Go forward, forward."
The rider muttered.
'Did a knight of Naurillia come all the way here?'
Crazy bastard.
Hard to understand why he's acting like that.
'To cause chaos thinking they are at a disadvantage?'
Consuming knight power here for that?
It's madness.
Knights are humans too.
If surrounded and pierced by spears, they die.
Furthermore, since he came all the way here, allied knights will fight him together.
The enemy did a foolish thing.
"Done. Shit, we are going forward."
Words of the colleague riding behind.
Whatever happens, they are the vanguard, reaching the enemy camp is the goal.
As one of the riders among the five dedicated to controlling the elephants thought, he just had to avoid that monster.
So when the elephant's head suddenly exploded, it was understandable that the rider would be crushed to death while standing stupidly.
Uuuuung!
Just when he wondered if a roar tearing the air was heard from somewhere, air condensed in the empty space and emitted a circular shockwave.
A lump flying while creating a shockwave turned the elephant's head into the equivalent of a ripe pumpkin.
Peong!
The exploded head spat out blood in all directions, and the tilting elephant fell to the side.
Buuuuuuu, kwang!
Large creatures tend to be loud even when falling.
Dust rose around.
The rider sitting on the back of the headless creature was too surprised to even scream as he was crushed to death.
Because he was crushed from the face first, a kkik- sound were his last words.
Even the officer near him, who barely survived, had his waist crushed by the falling elephant, poured out his intestines, and died screaming.
"Anyway, bad way to die, you bastard."
Naturally, it was Rem's work.
Packing the sling he swung, he tapped the back of the beastkin standing next to him.
"What are you doing?"
"Preparing to fight?"
Dunbakel smelled ominous scents moving everywhere.
If friendly knights move, enemies move too.
Natural logic.
Shouldn't they go welcome them now?
"Why act crazy ignorantly in the middle of enemy lines? Just roughly clear the elephants and giants and pull out."
Rem said.
Dunbakel didn't express particular dissatisfaction at Rem's words.
Since if there is no better method than moving by arbitrary interpretation, then doing so is right.
This is a logic known even before going to the East.
"Understood. Extremely cowardly, dirty, and messy hit-and-run tactics."
"Why are you adding that it's extremely cowardly, dirty, and messy?"
"I am a beastkin. I possess a mouth that speaks truth."
Rem swung his axe.
Dunbakel dodged shrinking her neck.
Pa-ang!
The sound of air bursting is loud.
If someone saw, they would ask if he really swung that playfully.
Of course, within The Madmen Knights, this level is close to being cute.
"...Cannot just slice these bastards here and there and leave, really. Captain, you owe me."
Rem muttered, steadying his mind with one axe swing.
Usually, the Captain's presence would let him move on his own in this situation.
So trying to fill that empty spot, he was a bit annoyed.
Of course, real anger doesn't soar.
Since he enjoys this kind of fight.
Meaning, a fight hitting one-sidedly.
Also mixed with that is the will asking who would step up if the Vice-Captain doesn't.
"Hey, let's go. Several ominous things are coming."
Rem and Dunbakel turned their heads to one side.
Some of her fur stood on end.
Goosebumps rose.
It was because instinct reacted.
"Don't we need to help him?"
The direction she looked is where the unfortunate swordsman who gets lost easily is fighting.
"If he dies, it's all his fate."
Rem said.
"That is true."
Dunbakel agreed.
Rem liked those words.
"I'll overlook your nonsense earlier this once. Let's go."
The two ran again as is.
Both Rem and Dunbakel are those who run as fast as horses in short distances.
Ragna killed two, Rem killed one standing in the rear, but elephants still remained.
"Peekaboo!"
Rem threw a throwing axe aiming for another elephant's head as is.
Dunbakel aimed for things with heads noticeably towering among humans.
Their size and monstrous strength are definitely not lacking to be called the strongest combat species among intelligent races.
Surpassing Frog in strength, and their skin resembled iron from birth.
Here, their innate fighting instinct gave them the nickname of monsters with red blood.
"Stinking-thing!"
Two giants spewed in anger.
Dunbakel, jumping between the two giants, swung her curved scimitar as if shaking it off.
In that process, her feet kicked the ground six times.
Her steps were light and soundless, but that didn't mean they were slow.
Afterimages are created.
White hair makes a long line.
Simultaneously, the scimitar hit the giant's Adam's apple and passed.
Left and right simultaneously.
Retrieving the swung swords, she springs forward.
Dunbakel's feet went beyond agile, to the point of looking like a ghost to soldiers watching.
At the spot the ghost grazed, blood poured from the giant's neck.
Kung, kung.
The kneeling giants crossed each other and fell forward.
The sound of them falling was loud.
***
While Rem and Dunbakel were playing excitedly like that.
"Advance!"
The officer's shout burst out.
If behind is hell, isn't it enough to go forward?
The officer commanding the vanguard was one who would thrust the spear in his hand even if the back of his head exploded.
He ordered the march whether there was chaos behind or not.
The Great Emperor's vanguard consists of elephant riders, giants, and the Yellow Soil Corps.
The prisoner unit using the yellow flag was a group that didn't know retreat.
At the commander's order, soldiers put a pill slightly larger than a thumbnail into their mouths one by one and swallowed it chewing.
That medicine was their special supply.
The name of the medicine is Carni Festa, meaning a festival of drinking blood and chewing flesh.
Kkulkkeok, kwadeuk!
Swallowing at once, and swallowing even after chewing.
Subsequently, screams burst out from within their unit.
"Kkeueueueu!"
"Kkeuaaaa!"
"Kkihihihihi!"
Everyone loses reason and blood vessels stand in their eyes.
Whole body muscles swell and blue veins covered their faces.
From now on, to neutralize this drug, they had to drink the opponent's blood and chew flesh.
Therefore, now only one premise remained for them.
That they must fight to live.
Even the frontline commanders took the same medicine.
From now on, this unit became berserkers fighting until death.
Similar to the Holy Berserkers the Holy City Legion boasts of, but considering drinking killed people's blood and tearing flesh, it would be worse than that.
Although those fighting singing of God's love while drunk on holiness would also display similar madness to others' eyes.
"Those crazy bastards."
Rem's mouth opened naturally.
Shamans of the West are intimate with drugs.
They also use them to confuse the mind for easy spirit possession.
Therefore, he roughly recognized what they did.
"Chase them."
He judged that he shouldn't let that unit meet allies as is.
"The smell is nasty."
As Dunbakel received Rem's words, the two tried to run towards the enemy rear.
At that timing, a momentum filled with killing intent as if waiting stabbed the backs of the two.
Rem and Dunbakel turned their bodies simultaneously.
Pat-
The movement of turning heads and keeping distance left and right moved identically as if reflected in a mirror.
Of course, the subsequent movements were starkly different.
Rem lifted the axe to his chest, and Dunbakel pressed the ground with hands and feet, lifting her head and revealing fangs.
Keureureu.
The beastkin's instinct reacted and even spewed out a growling.
Those wearing jet-black masks stepped in front of the two.
Masks without eye holes.
Just jet-black.
Breathing sounds weren't heard, and reading expressions was impossible.
Naturally, there were no words either.
The two held weapons respectively.
A trident and a longsword.
Rem's opponent was the trident, and Dunbakel faced the guy holding a sword.
The two opponents stepped forward as if waiting and chose opponents advantageous for them to deal with.
***
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