LTTH C59

Chapter 59

“What in the world gives you such courage?”

“Wait—are you actually flying?!”

To see Isaac withstand Berthel’s assault was astonishing enough, but what stunned Hansol more was the sight of him floating freely in midair. Could it be that he was not merely a swordsman or a tank, but a magic swordsman? Now that Hansol thought of it, Isaac had never once explicitly said, “I’m a tank.”

If he really were a magic swordsman…

“Ah.”

Regrettably, the truth was more mundane. Isaac’s flight was not his own power. When Hansol lowered his gaze, he saw a glowing magic circle beneath Isaac’s feet, spinning with fierce momentum, radiating blue light. Of course—it was Kassie’s magic.

As expected, there’s no way a swordsman or a tank could learn magic.

Magic was the domain of Hunters known as the chosen—the magicians. Their arts were not something a swordsman or a tank could wield. If they could, Britain would never have fallen so far.

“So you must have something to rely on, then?”

“…Well, yes.”

Even as Isaac asked, still holding Berthel at bay, Hansol’s answer came haltingly. His unflinching calm, despite facing Berthel, was thanks only to his health being infinitely restored. But he could never admit that aloud. Isaac and Kassie weren’t the only ones present.

If Berthel were to learn Hansol could not be killed no matter what, then the monster would surely turn his attention first to Isaac and Kassie. He would hunt them down mercilessly until Advent ended. And once Advent was gone, Hansol would be next.

We’ll have to conceal this as long as possible, until we can strike back.

The question remained: how to protect Isaac and Kassie while destroying Berthel?

“Isaac, we need to end this quickly!”

“If such a thing is possible.”

Kassie, who moments before had nearly wept, had already returned to his usual self, urging Isaac on. Watching the two prepare themselves as if the fight ahead were manageable, Hansol exhaled quietly. Clearly, neither of them intended to retreat.

[You wretches…!]

Berthel, of course, had no intention of backing down either.

“Can we win?”

“Perhaps.”

If Isaac and Kassie could retreat, Hansol might manage something.

“It’s the first time I’ve trusted my life to someone else.”

“…What?”

“Not such a bad feeling, though.”

“Same here. Hansol, you’ll take responsibility for my life, won’t you?”

“Wait, just a moment, both of you—”

I said I’d do my best, not that I’d guarantee your lives!

Even if they failed to defeat Berthel, all three of them would die anyway. But to say Hansol could shoulder the weight of their lives? That was too much. Truly.

“Then I’ll trust you.”

“Hansol, if it’s you, I don’t mind placing my life in your hands.”

Were they out of their minds?

Smiling lightly as if the battle were already won, as if Berthel had already fallen, their expressions left Hansol dumbfounded.

[Mere humans dare—!]

If this was all just to anger Berthel, then they deserved a perfect score.

“With no one left to guard, I can fight without holding back.”

Isaac raised his sword, laughter still lingering in his voice, utterly unshaken by Berthel’s enraged roar.

Had Isaac always been a man so free with his smiles? The thought struck Hansol oddly as he followed his line of sight.

The village lay hushed. Black snow continued to fall from the sky, but the Sanctuary absorbed it as diligently as ever. The only difference was that no more people were touched by it. The crowds that had filled the streets moments before were gone. All had made it safely to shelter.

Thank goodness.

Could that small building at the village’s center truly hold a thousand souls? Hansol wasn’t sure. But what mattered was that now only three remained here: Isaac, Kassie, and himself.

Crash—!

Stronger now with no one else to guard, Isaac’s blade left afterimages as it clashed once more against Berthel’s staff. The collision resounded with such force that it was hard to believe it was only staff against sword. Hansol steadied his focus. No matter how much ground they gained, they could not afford carelessness. Isaac and Kassie were still human. And so far, they had not even managed to scratch Berthel.

“Blessing!”

The skill that had once been praised by the Tower Master. Wishing for Isaac to remain unscathed, Hansol cast Blessing, then imbued his sword with Holy Light. Isaac’s blade already gleamed blue with his own skill, but it did not matter. Holy Light transcended such overlaps.

White brilliance layered over Isaac’s weapon, and he, sensing the change, drove his sword into Berthel’s staff with renewed vigor. For the first time, the exchanges of their blows began to tilt.

Front. Right. Below. Then front again.

Isaac’s relentless assault drove Berthel backward—the monster, who had never once retreated before, forced to give ground.

[Hah.]

It was not about the quality of weapons or the difference in strength. It was simply a matter of attributes. Holy power against the undead. A truth as old as legend itself.

It wasn’t enough to kill him outright. But it was enough to kindle hope where before there had been none. And Isaac was no fool to waste such a chance.

“Kassie!”

“I know!”

With Kassie’s support bolstering him, Isaac launched himself at Berthel. His speed belied his size, a testament to the enormity of his amplified stats.

“Tch—!”

Hansol and Kassie had expected at least a single wound, a cut to mark their progress. For a moment, it seemed Berthel was unsettled. But the outcome defied their hopes. Isaac, hurling himself forward, was repelled as if he had struck a wall, his body flung back.

“Isaac, watch out! There’s something strange gathering around him!”

At Kassie’s warning, Berthel’s shadowy form flared with a ghastly violet glow. Even the black snow that had filled the air seemed to swirl inward, joining that eerie light around him.

[You’re not the only ones who can do strange tricks.]

Damn it.

A monster through and through.

The fragile thread of hope slipped through Hansol’s grasp like sand. Berthel’s strength was only growing. Yet Isaac refused to give up. He clung to Berthel like a man who lived only for this fight, never yielding.

And Berthel, strangely, returned that focus. He could have struck at Hansol or Kassie. Instead, he pressed Isaac alone, savage and relentless.

Clash after clash, the two traded blows, their distance narrowing, widening, collapsing again. And then—

Berthel’s staff flared, unleashing a massive orb of energy. The precarious balance between them shattered in an instant.

“Isaac…!”

He could not withstand it. Not because his strength was lacking, but because the magic circle beneath his feet flickered ominously, throwing his stance awry.

“…Damn it!”

Isaac faltered, and the violet mass tore past him. Straight toward Hansol. As if he had been its true target all along.

A smile crept across Berthel’s face. Alarm filled Isaac’s. But Hansol alone remained calm.

If Isaac or Kassie knew what he intended, they might have scolded him. But Hansol made no effort to dodge. He did not need to. His health was infinite, his status marked with eternity. Even if it struck, it could not kill him.

Boom—!

The tremendous impact dissolved like sugar in water. The violet orb vanished, never even brushing against Hansol.

[What?!]

Berthel stomped in fury, his pride wounded by the failed strike. But Hansol did not look at him.

The danger isn’t me. It’s Isaac and Kassie.

Kassie was a high-level magician. Isaac, a swordsman of equal renown. But both were bound by limits. Mana was finite. And the magic circle holding Isaac aloft was not a one-time casting—it was a sustained spell, moving wherever he moved. The cost of maintaining it must have been immense.

Unlike Hansol, Kassie did not have infinite mana. He could not endure such consumption forever.

“Isaac, take Kassie and retreat to the building!”

It was not because Isaac or Kassie were weak. It was because Berthel was impossibly strong—beyond what any human could withstand.