Hard Carried by My Sword-Chapter 152

The duel had barely begun when, only a few minutes in, the gathered chieftains expressed their thoughts with a heavy silence. They had known Bulls for years—some for decades—and they knew well just how terrifying, swift, and ferocious his axe strikes became when he unleashed Fury.

A single blow could crush the massive head of a sandworm. A troll would be split clean in half before its regeneration could even kick in. Even an ogre might hold out for a few moments, but ten, twenty swings later, it would be reduced to minced flesh.

And yet—

“Wow, that’s incredible,” said Alice, the chieftain of the Lepus Tribe, her long rabbit ears twitching in awe.

The Lepus’ special ability was hyper sense. With her vision magnified several times over, she was just barely able to track Karen’s movements.

“She’s not just fast—her movements are delicate, precise. She hasn’t touched the ground once since landing on Bulls’ axe. Even I’d probably fail three times out of ten trying that.”

“So Lady Hati’s confidence wasn’t misplaced,” another chieftain muttered.

“And that female is only the vanguard. The male said to be the King’s fellow disciple must be stronger still. The war faction should be ready for another loss,” added Stangdal, the Centaur chieftain, clicking his tongue.

He muttered, “Dammit, at that speed my spear wouldn’t even graze her. I don’t care if Bulls takes a hit, but honestly, even if it were me out there, the result wouldn’t be much different.”

Nagini, chieftain of the Naga, tapped the ground gently with her tail, as if soothing an impatient youth.

“Don’t let it rattle you, Stangdal. You’re one of the youngest among the chieftains of the plains. You have plenty of room to grow stronger.”

“D-do you mean that?”

“Of course. I, Nagini, do not hand out empty compliments.”

The warm mood between the elder and the youth was suddenly shattered by a third voice.

“Kahah! What nonsense!”

A surge of killing intent warped the air around him as Urakan bared his fangs with a mocking growl. This was the very being on the pinnacle of the Tigris Tribe.

Among the beastkin of the plains, if one ranked their strength individually, none could dispute that the tigers stood at the very top. Even in the natural order, lions and bears were their only peers, while the tiger reigned alone as the king of the mountains.

Urakan had been born with all of that feral instinct. By sheer force, he had subdued the entire Tigris Tribe, who shunned communal life, and bent them to his overwhelming charisma.

Only Varg could speak down to him. Only Varg could command him.

“If getting old alone made one stronger, then the old hag Nagini would already be stronger than me. But she’s not, is she? If you’re going to giggle at empty flattery, you’d be better off biting your tongue and dying right now. Pray you’re reborn as a dragon—it’ll be faster that way! Khahaha!”

The insult was so crude it made Stangdal tremble with fury, but he didn’t rise to the bait. No—he couldn’t.

Urakan’s rudeness had made him countless enemies over the course of his life, but none who stood against him had survived. The law of the savannah was simple: the strong ruled. And here, the strong one was Urakan. Not Stangdal.

Ignoring Stangdal, Urakan cast a sidelong glance at Nagini and let out a long, pointed sigh.

The old hag’s lost her senses. Is it senility?

Thirty years ago, she was a worthy opponent for a life-or-death spar. Now, it seemed she couldn’t even recognize the threat of these guests. Urakan was alone in doing so.

His pupils widened sharply as he swept his gaze across Leon’s group. One he could not defeat. One his equal. One whose style clashed badly with his own.

Excellent. I like it.

Whoever he faced among the three, he would be satisfied. Whether he was the one killing or being killed, it would make no difference.

A feral grin spread across Urakan’s lips. Back in the arena, Bulls, humiliated by Karen’s mockery, managed to claw back a shred of reason. Fury drove blood to his head, but the sight of her poised so lightly on his axe blade was even more terrifying.

His instincts whispered that he couldn’t win. His pride, on the other hand, shouted that he could not accept this.

The veins bulged thickly across the back of his hands as he gripped his axes tighter with a creak, the skin stretched taut. If his strength wasn’t enough, then it only meant he needed more strength.

With that blunt, single-minded resolve, Bulls stoked his rage to a fever pitch. He forced his power to the very limits of Fury. The pressure of swelling muscle fibers burst capillaries under his skin, bleeding through, but his eyes had already rolled back in madness.

Pain no longer mattered—only speed, only power. He abandoned reason and even instinct, devolving into a beast that thought only of tearing his foe apart with twin axes.

The storm of slashes ripped the air apart, tearing the wind itself into pieces. The deafening roar of steel on air hammered across the battlefield like thunder. Not even Karen could stay balanced on the axe any longer.

She slipped lightly back to the ground, dodging a string of frenzied strikes in a low, panther-like crouch to open up distance. Retreat was slower than advance, but when the difference in speed was so overwhelming, it hardly mattered.

“Hm. You’re stronger than me. A little slower, sure... but most A-rankers wouldn’t last a few minutes against that and would be pulped.”

Even so, Karen felt no fear. She didn’t even feel the need to tense up. One grazing blow would crush her bones to dust, but she was certain she wouldn’t be grazed at all.

“The trajectories are too simple, too obvious. This is brawling, not martial art.”

She had braced herself, wary that Bulls might unleash some refined technique like Sirius, as Hati or Varg had shown. She was disappointed.

She watched the whirlwind of axes roaring toward her. The audience marveled at the sheer power and spectacle, but within seconds, Karen had already spotted six clear openings. She didn’t even need to use her shadows. She could end this here.

To avoid the stigma of relying on her artifact, Karen instead pulled free the throwing daggers she had tied at her waist, three in each hand.

And then, from each of Karen’s palms stretched three streams of shadow.

“Shadow Projection, First Form: Venomous Serpents Unleashed.”

The six cords of shadow bit into the hilts of her daggers and, with a whip-crack motion, shot them forward in zigzags. Each thrown blade was the head of a serpent, hurled in a lunging strike. To the eye, it looked like six black snakes rushing their prey.

The serpents tore straight into the whirlwind of axes. To anyone watching, it was like hurling eggs against a boulder. It was utterly reckless. And yet they pierced through without resistance, slamming into Bulls as he flailed wildly.

Two daggers buried into each collarbone. Two more drove through his thighs. The last pair severed the tendons in both wrists.

No matter how strong he was, with his wrists ruined and both collarbones shattered, he could no longer swing his axes. The two battleaxes slipped from his hands and slammed into the outer wall of the arena.

The shockwaves shook even the spectator stands. He hadn’t thrown them—they’d simply fallen—yet the force still rattled the air, proof enough of the power packed in his strikes. The outcome of the duel was beyond doubt.

From the high seat, Varg rose and thundered his declaration.

“That’s it! This bout goes to Hati’s party—Karen!”

At once, the stands erupted. Cheers and applause roared so loud they left ears ringing. In the plains, the law of survival was clear: the strong ruled.

Since Bulls had looked stronger by appearance, Karen’s overwhelming victory carried an even greater impact. Only the chieftains who had already sensed the difference remained calm, giving her brief nods of applause.

Leon welcomed Karen back, dry and unscathed, summing up the fight in a single line.

That wasn’t much of a fight at all.

El-Cid replied, —Of course it wasn’t. Martial arts exist for the weak to topple the strong. Beastkin, born strong enough to survive among monsters, never needed to devise or polish such arts.

But if they trained in martial arts, wouldn’t they become even stronger?

—That’s where they differ from humans. Unlike mankind, who defy natural law, beastkin instinctively avoid acts that go against it. They don’t attempt what they don’t need.

At that, Leon finally nodded in understanding.

But... Hati, and even the Beast King, trained in martial arts.

—They chose to surpass their instincts through sheer will. It isn’t the norm. Back when the old doggy was alive, the world was harsh enough that even beastkin couldn’t survive without martial arts, so quite a few outside the Fenrir clan studied them as well.

Leon accepted the explanation, just as the next challenger stepped forward. This time, the opponent was a bear beastkin, towering even larger than Bulls, by a full handspan, his fur a dark brown. It was Tortuga.

Before he entered the ring, he had turned to Urakan with a word of caution.

“Lady Hati’s strongest must be that male who claimed to be the King’s fellow disciple. That means you’re the only one who can face him. I’ll take the other—just be sure you win.”

“Hm.”

“I’ll take that as agreement.”

With a steady expression, Tortuga strode toward the arena. Behind him, Urakan muttered with an odd look, “I don’t know about that.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Skoll, overhearing.

“You’ll see soon enough, Young Master. Well, whoever we sent out instead of Tortuga, the result would’ve been the same.”

Urakan chuckled, already predicting the outcome of the second duel. Skoll frowned at the arrogance, but he held his tongue—no one snapped at Urakan lightly.

And then it began. Tortuga stepped onto the battlefield, hefting his weapon of choice: a warhammer.

The hammer’s head was as large as a grown man’s torso—perhaps larger. Wielded with the raw strength of the Urus, that massive blunt weapon could smash down fortress walls. Tortuga raised the warhammer gripped in his right hand and pointed it toward his chosen opponent.

“Come forth!”

It was not Karen. Nor Hati. Not even Leon. The one he named for the second duel was Elahan.

“Hehe, didn’t think I’d get picked so soon.”

Elahan rose gracefully from her seat with a gentle smile, while Hati, realizing the truth behind it with a beast’s instinct, instinctively slipped behind Leon. That wasn’t kindness radiating from Tortuga—it was killing intent.

“Very well. I’ll face you.”

Dressed only in her clergy robe, without armor or her Holy Iron Breaker, Elahan strode calmly to the center of the arena. Unarmed, she looked every bit the picture of a serene and devout follower of the Goddess. So when Tortuga pointed her out, the spectators erupted in outrage.

He had chosen the weak. He was avoiding the strong. Tortuga accepted the jeers in silence.

“O maiden who follows the divine,” came the bear beastkin’s low, rumbling voice. “Arm yourself. It is strange for me to say, having chosen you specifically, but you cannot hope to endure my hammer unarmed.”

“Heh... how very kind of you.”

Elahan’s smile turned faintly chilling as she raised her hands. Her pinkies curled first, then her ring fingers, then the middle and index fingers, her thumbs pressing down to close the fists.

Thanks to the Holy Power that flowed within her, her skin bore no scars, but the knuckles thickened from countless breaks and heals and the calluses deeply set made her fists seem a bit larger than one would expect from a girl of her stature.

She raised them to shoulder height, squarely taking aim. Anyone could see it for what it was—a fighter’s stance.

Seeing the little girl’s response to his call, Tortuga’s voice warped with restrained anger, echoing with menace.

“Are you mocking me...?”

Elahan’s smile never faltered as she replied, “I am not mocking you. I merely believe these two fists are enough.”

It was nothing but the truth. Tortuga, however, could not know that. His eyes flared with rage, and Varg, sensing the imminent eruption, gave the call.

“Begin!”

The word had hardly left his lips before Tortuga charged, the ground shattering under his first step. Both hands gripped the warhammer high above his head.

“Be crushed with your arrogance!”

He roared and brought it down with his full might. The difference in their physiques was nearly two meters. Naturally, Tortuga’s strike came from high above, the very way to wield a bludgeon at its most devastating.

As a woodcutter splits logs with his axe, as a blacksmith beats steel with his hammer. The blow was, without doubt, correct.

“Arrogance, you say?” Elahan stepped forward. “Let me show you which of us is truly arrogant.”

Her foot rooted to the ground, she drove her fist upward like a thunderbolt traveling in reverse. Fist against warhammer—fifty kilograms of steel against the hand of a girl. Two weapons so different, the result should have been obvious.

What followed was a detonation. A sound so immense it defied onomatopoeia.

And the one hurled back several meters in the clash of power was... Tortuga. Three meters and fifty-two centimeters tall. Over five hundred kilograms of mass.

A warhammer swung by the chieftain of the Urus, strong enough to swat away a charging war chariot, was knocked back by the strike of a girl not even half his size.

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

The arena fell into stunned silence. Even those who had known of Elahan’s strength could only gape in awe at what they had seen with their own eyes.

“W-what?”

Stumbling, regaining his balance by a hair, Tortuga stared at her as if beholding a ghost. Then he looked at the head of his Warhammer, where the impression of a clenched fist had been cleanly stamped into the metal.

“A fine hammer,” Elahan said as she lowered her fist as fluidly as flowing water. “To withstand my strike without shattering... it bears the touch of a master smith.”

She praised not Tortuga, but the weapon itself. It had not endured because he had swung it well, but because it had been forged well.

She resumed her fighting stance. The hairs on Tortuga’s massive frame bristled with instinctive dread. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

“Now. Here I come.”

And then, Elahan charged.