Barbarian's Adventure in a Fantasy World-Chapter 256: The Demon of the Flower (2)

“K-Ketal... How did you get back so fast?” Kain’s voice trembled, disbelief clouding his face.

Only moments ago, Ketal had been blasted away by Carbarax’s overwhelming power. Judging by that force, he had to have flown at least a hundred kilometers, vanishing entirely from view. For him to return so quickly, so soon after being thrown such a staggering distance, was almost unimaginable.

Ketal answered without any hesitation, brushing the dust from his body as if he had just completed a short jog rather than an epic journey across the landscape.

“I ran as hard as I could,” he said, his voice casual, as though there was nothing at all remarkable about his return.

Kain was left speechless. Words caught in his throat, unable to process the reality before him. Ketal calmly stroked his chin, scanning the devastated battlefield with a steady gaze.

“I had a bad feeling, so I pushed myself. The situation here... is not good,” Ketal muttered.

The evidence of the disaster was all around. The corpses of countless soldiers, mercenaries, priests, and mages littered the ground, their lives extinguished in mere moments. The only ones left standing were the Mercenary King, the Archbishop, Kain himself, and a scant handful—perhaps two or three others. In less than five minutes, an entire army had been wiped out.

“What happened here?” Ketal asked Kain, his voice low.

Kain could barely muster an answer, his eyes haunted by what he had witnessed. “The flower bloomed. And from within it, a demon descended.”

“Aha. So the flower was harboring the demon all along.”

Ketal’s gaze shifted to the woman with hair the color of wild pink blossoms. Floris, the Demon of the Flower, stood at the center of the devastation. For a moment, Ketal simply studied her, quietly gauging the depth of her power.

“She looks extremely strong,” he murmured.

Kain nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “According to Fiego, she’s the Demon of the Flower. Floris. Not just a demon with a name, but a demon with a rank. A true hierarchy among demons.”

“Oh?”

A demon with a rank and title was something Ketal had only heard about in stories. He’d been told that demons who possessed both a name and a rank were vastly more powerful than any lesser demon.

“This is my first time seeing one with my own eyes,” Ketal said, a glint of excitement showing in his gaze.

“She’s powerful,” Kain added. “It’s not for someone like me to judge, but... she’s definitely similar to a Hero.”

“That’s good. That’s very good,” Ketal replied, a broad, eager grin spreading across his face. “I’ll handle this. The rest of you need to retreat, now.”

“Are you sure about this?” Kain asked him, uncertainty written on his face.

“It’s not as if you could help even if you stayed.”

Ketal’s words left no room for argument. Kain bit his lip, knowing deep down that Ketal was right. He shot a quick glance at the Archbishop, who rushed to help the staggering Mercenary King, barely conscious from his wounds.

“Please, be safe,” Kain called out, voice full of worry.

“Ketal, you must be careful. She’s... powerful,” the Mercenary King rasped, his breath ragged and weak.

Ketal flashed a gentle smile, nodding. “I know.”

The survivors fled, staggering from the field of carnage as quickly as their battered bodies allowed. Floris, for her part, simply watched them go. She made no move to stop them, no flicker of interest in the retreating mortals.

“Thank you for letting them go,” Ketal said.

“I already planted the seeds. I could kill them whenever I like. But more than that... they are not important right now.” Floris narrowed her eyes, her voice cold and almost amused. She fixed her gaze squarely on Ketal. “You. I know who you are. You’re the one my mother spoke of.”

“Your mother?” Ketal’s interest was instantly piqued. “So demons have parents too? Do you gestate in your mother’s womb like mortals do?”

A surge of curiosity welled up within him, but Floris gave no answer.

“The barbarian strong enough to defy gods... but I know your weakness,” she said. “There’s something missing in you. You can’t break us. No matter what you do, you are incomplete.”

So far, in every encounter with demons, Ketal had never managed to defeat one entirely on his own. There had always been outside help.

“Here, there are no outsiders to aid you. Try as you like; struggle as hard as you want. I will ignore you and bring ruin to this world,” Floris declared.

She had made her decision. As far as she was concerned, Ketal could be ignored entirely. No matter how many times he struck her, no matter how much he battered her body, she would simply regenerate—untouched, unbothered.

“Is that so? Then shall we test that theory?” Ketal said, his laughter rumbling across the ruined field.

He stepped forward, and in an instant, his body crossed the distance to stand directly before Floris. She didn’t flinch, didn’t react. Her posture and eyes told him to do his worst.

Ketal clenched his fist, and within that simple gesture, Myst began to coalesce. For the first time, Floris’s expression changed. Ketal’s fist arced toward her in a blur, impossibly fast.

A thunderous boom split the air as he swung. The force of his punch swept everything before it. Wind roared out in a shockwave, flattening trees in the distant forest and slicing a massive gouge into the grassy plain.

Ketal let out a low whistle and said, “Impressive that you dodged my attack.. The delay is still a problem, though. Fixing that will be my next challenge.”

“You...” Floris’s face twisted in disbelief. “How... How can you use Myst?”

“I just learned how,” Ketal replied, pride in his voice.

Floris seemed shaken, as if she were witnessing something impossible. And in truth, she was. She was not merely a demon; she was an ancient being, one who had existed since before the Divine-Demonic War, long before the existence of the Demon Realms. For all her age and experience, she knew one thing.

“You people... should not be able to wield Myst,” she said.

“The Wandering Merchant said the same. I suppose I am an exception,” Ketal said with a shrug.

Floris regained her composure, though her eyes still flickered with unease. Even if she couldn’t understand it, the barbarian before her had found a way to use Myst. That made him dangerous, even to her.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re strong, I’ll grant you that. But that’s all there is to you,” Floris said as the air around her darkened.

She was the Demon of the Flower, a demon with a rank and a title. In the age of the Divine-Demonic War, she had fought countless powerful beings and emerged victorious time and time again.

“Bloom,” she intoned.

A rustle of petals erupted from her back, forming wings of living blossoms. Ketal could not help but admire the sight.

“Wings of flowers... beautiful,” Ketal murmured.

Floris stretched out her hand. From the ground, thick stalks of flowers grew upward, twining into the shape of a spear.

“In the name of my mother, I will kill you,” she said, her voice calm and chilling.

“That sounds fun.” Ketal grinned, showing his teeth.

He needed no more explanation from Kain or anyone else. His senses told him all he needed to know: the demon before him was a Hero. Among all the mighty beings he had faced outside the White Snowfield, she was in a league of her own.

A thrill ran through him. He barely managed to suppress a smile, but the corners of his mouth still twitched upward, unable to hide his excitement. The air trembled, vibrating with barely contained power.

“Barbarian... you truly live up to the name.” Floris frowned.

“I’m a man of reason. A scholar, even,” Ketal replied, almost mockingly.

“That’s absurd,” Floris scoffed.

“But that hardly matters now,” Ketal said, his tone growing serious. He drew his axe, every movement conveying his intent. “Let’s begin.”

The ground exploded beneath his feet as he launched himself toward Floris. A high-pitched whine filled the air as Floris thrust her spear. Her speed was staggering, the fastest attack Ketal had ever faced outside the White Snowfield. The blow was so powerful it could have carved a tunnel through a mountain.

Ketal braced himself, gripping his axe tightly. A deafening clang rang out as the blade of the axe collided with the spear’s tip. The shockwave ripped through the battlefield, knocking the retreating survivors off their feet.

It was Floris who was driven back from the first collision. Unable to withstand the force, her body skidded across the ground, heels digging trenches into the soil. She clicked her tongue in irritation.

“So, I really can’t win with strength alone...,” she muttered.

In a blur, Ketal surged forward again, closing the gap in an instant. Floris dodged, barely twisting out of the path of his swinging axe, but even so, a deep gash opened across her chest as the aftershock alone was strong enough to wound her. She retreated, placing her hand on the earth.

“Bloom,” she commanded.

A ring of pink flowers erupted around her, each blossom brimming with demonic energy. She was the Demon of the Flower—her power was to shape malice itself into floral form. The field of flowers expanded outward, pressing everything away, pushing back with irresistible force.

“What a beautiful power!” Ketal laughed.

He tightened his grip on his axe, then swung with all his strength. With a sound like shattering glass, the field of flowers broke apart, petals flying in every direction. Floris stared in disbelief. Those flowers contained enough power to destroy even a holy land, and yet Ketal had destroyed them in a single blow.

Ketal lunged at her again. Floris’s eyes grew sharp, her expression now utterly serious. Ketal’s axe came crashing down, and Floris lifted her spear to meet it. The ground buckled, unable to withstand the impact. Floris’s knees bent, a groan escaping her lips under the crushing force. Still, she held her ground and managed to block Ketal’s full might. In that moment, Floris reached out and placed her hand on Ketal’s chest.

“Bloom,” she whispered.

A crown of flowers burst from Ketal’s body, blossoms overlapping and wrapping around him. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh?”

The flowers enveloped him, layer upon layer, sealing him in a living prison. Floris swung her hand, and the petals closed tight, sealing Ketal away. This was her authority, her power to bind. In the distant past, even a Spirit King had once been trapped for a full year by this same power during the Divine-Demonic War.

Just then, a crack appeared in the prison of petals. Myst shimmered in the gaps, radiating out from Ketal. With a deafening roar, the flower prison burst apart, petals exploding outward. Floris clicked her tongue.

“To think you could break out in seconds from what once sealed the avatar of nature for an entire year... You really are disgustingly strong.”

“You can seal as well? That’s so versatile!” Ketal marveled.

“If you’re so impressed, you could at least pretend to be affected by my attacks,” Floris grumbled, her eyes narrowing.

She quickly realized that pushing Ketal back was impossible, and that even her binding magic could not contain him.

If that’s how it is..., she thought as she raised her hand toward the sky. “Bloom.”

Dozens of flowers blossomed in the air above. Floris clenched her fist, and the petals closed and twisted, coiling around themselves until they formed razor-sharp threads.

“And now... twist,” she commanded.

The flowers spun, wringing themselves into single, gleaming lines of energy, each line thrumming with deadly power.

Ketal’s expression changed as he saw the sky filled with writhing cords of demonic energy. The force contained within each was incredible, rivaling the Dragon Tongue wielded by Ignisia. If even one struck him directly, it would be dangerous.

“Fire,” Floris said, her voice cold.

The lines shot down, tracing unerring paths toward Ketal. He analyzed the situation instantly.

Can I dodge this? No, it’s impossible, he thought.

The lines moved in trajectories that made evasion pointless. So Ketal lifted his axe. He didn’t aim to destroy the first line that approached, but to alter its path. He struck, his axe forcing the line off course. The redirected line slammed into another, and a chain reaction followed as the lines crashed into each other.

In one fluid motion, Ketal had dismantled the entire attack without moving from his spot. Floris groaned in frustration.

“You... deflected the paths?”

“I told you that I’m a scholar,” Ketal replied.

He recalled fighting assassins in the Denian Kingdom, when he had redirected their throwing daggers with similar techniques. He had learned well from those earlier battles.

He gripped his axe and charged again. Floris clicked her tongue and readied her spear. A shockwave shook the battlefield as the axe met the spear. Floris was pushed back, but she managed to recover, summoning another field of flowers to block Ketal’s charge.

Again and again, their powers clashed. Floris used flowers as shields and spears, meeting Ketal’s relentless offense with equal determination. Despite being pushed, she refused to yield, fighting without fear, always pressing forward. Ketal couldn’t help but laugh, his voice ringing with joy.

“You’re strong!” he shouted, exhilaration in every word.

He had faced others like this in the past, opponents of Hero class who could endure the full extent of his power. Among them were the High Elf Queen Karin, the Elder Dragon Ignisia, and even Ferderica, if they could be counted.

However, in truth, none of those battles had been fought in earnest. Karin had never been truly serious. With Ignisia, the battle was interrupted by the Wandering Merchant. His clash with Federica was so one-sided that it hardly felt like a real contest.

However, this time, things were different. A Hero-class being, one of the world’s greatest powers, was standing before him and facing him with everything she had. More than that, she was surviving his attacks.

To Ketal, it was ecstasy. This world was not fragile. There were beings here who could withstand his true power. He had never wanted fragile, breakable toys; he had always longed for opponents who could endure, who could fight back. This was the fantasy strength he had always dreamed of.

He trembled with joy, a shiver running through his body. Watching him, Floris felt a chill run down her spine. This barbarian was genuinely, deeply delighted by the challenge.

He’s... twisted, Floris thought.

“Please... I beg you,” Ketal murmured, almost to himself..

Don’t die on me. Please, keep fighting me. Ketal whispered his own prayer, his face twisted in a crooked smile, as he charged Floris once more.