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Arc#4 Interlude: Pure Offense
🕑 Added 2024-10-03 04:42:14 +0000 UTCRolf noticed four new entities enter the battlefield, but mostly ignored them.
They were probably the other four spirit beasts the Sage King had a contract with in addition to the silver owl. Or rather, since the Sage King was the silver owl, then these four were contracted to the owl. He didn't think it was possible for spirit beasts to form contracts with other spirit beasts, but this didn't seem like the time to ask the Sage King for specifics. They were trying to kill him, after all.
Regardless, since these four were all Ascendants it was clear what their purpose in this fight was—they would fuse with the Sage King the same way Valter and every veteran battlemage could with their own spirit beasts.
Except he'd never heard of anyone fusing with four at once. Yet another hole in his knowledge.
In the end, however, it hardly mattered to Rolf. That wasn't his fight yet. Surely, that racist bastard and the Gladiator King could hold off the Sage King while he dealt with their pointy-eared guest. They weren't that incapable.
'That should be enough probing for now.'
Rolf and Yabo the elven Transcendent hadn't been treating their previous exchanges all that seriously, trying to get a measure of each other before making an earnest effort. It was a shame that Yabo threw away most of Rolf's insights when he merged with the giant ryuu.
Luckily, what he now knew about Yabo was enough. It would have to be. Or he could probe a little more and see.
‘He looks nothing like an elf now.’
Instead of the diminutive heights, all elves possessed, Yabo was now three meters tall and had a natural armor of fiery red scales. He’d grown a long and thick tail as well, with an obviously poisonous barb that was absent on the ryuu’s body.
The elf’s facial features and the pointy ears were gone, replaced with a draconic head. If Rolf hadn’t known better, he would have assumed he was fighting some new form of monster. Or a Transcendent Nightmare Spawn that managed to sneak out while he was gone. Thinking about it, he supposed it was similar to the Warbeast race’s intrinsic transformation ability.
In any case, the creature in front of him didn’t look like an elf at all.
Rolf had known a long time ago that spirit beasts could merge with their hosts. Aside from the modified appearance and additional elemental affinities, one could also obtain tremendous physical power from it—but only if one was significantly weaker than their spirit beast.
Yabo was already physically strong, so Rolf could surmise that the reason they fused was so Yabo could use the [Fire] affinity that the dragon possessed or because of something else. Or maybe he just liked being taller and having a tail?
“You know,” Yabo began to say.
But the moment Rolf noticed part of Yabo's attention turn to the silver owl in the sky, he rushed forward at a speed that was fast even for a Transcendent. In the world of silence only Transcendents could be part of, the wind howled past Rolf’s ears as he flickered into a blur, appearing right in front of Yabo. The elf was surprised. And Rolf would be too, if their situations were switched.
Aiming to freeze that expression of shock for eternity, Rolf swept his sword sideways, rending space and everything else in his edge's path.
Or it would have if his priceless sword hadn't failed to bisect the draconic elf.
‘Tough.’
Rolf swatted the hand that tried to grab him then did the same to the tail that aimed to wrap its tip around his neck. Then he struck Yabo with his palm while backing off, freeing his blade from the other’s ridiculously tough body.
As space was created between them yet again, Rolf allowed some surprise to bleed into his aged face and saw some of the same bleed into his opponent’s. Just as Rolf had been confident in his lethality, it seemed his adversary was confident in durability—no doubt having expected to block everything with the scales.
And truly, the scales had been hard. Most of the force and the power he put into the attack died just to get through, only to be met by high-density muscle underneath.
Realizing that he’d have to exert more effort into fending off this elf than he’d initially thought, Rolf clicked his tongue. His perception and his power spread out as he flickered forward again.
Unfortunately, the other side was prepared this time.
Yabo’s initial wound had already healed, hinting at a fraudulent level of regenerative ability—which would, again, warrant more effort on Rolf’s part to deal with. The Sword Star’s deadly strikes were met with a scaly fist that barely parried the black blade while suffering minimal damage. It seemed the arms were especially more difficult to damage than the rest of the body.
Rolf assumed Yabo’s legs were the same. That was usually how it went with these pugilists.
'I suppose it's to be expected of an elf?'
Their society was quite militaristic, which showed in the fluid way Yabo had fought during their exchanges. Even after fusing, There was a purpose to every inch of movement and sharpness to his attacks that only a long life of refinement could achieve. It was marvelous to behold, and Rolf couldn't help but admire the foreign movements. If there was anything he could learn and add to his arsenal, that would be wonderful.
What truly made it worse was the intense heat roiling off the elf's scales. Of course, despite looking like an old man, Rolf's skin was tough too so he wouldn't be affected so easily. But he felt like he was standing next to the sun and no skin was tough enough to endure that for too long. The air around them was quite literally being warped by Yabo's mere existence.
Despite how disadvantageous it was, Rolf swapped to a more defensive style as he patiently watched for an opportunity to create an opening. Thousands of exchanges were exchanged between them, the force of their clashes magnified upon the world. Their fight had brought them farther and farther away from the surface into an expanse of blue above the clouds. Yet, every punch and kick produced a fierce shockwave that upturned the fields far below them. Be they humans, monsters, or civilization itself, everything was equal in front of overwhelming force. The few times Yabo saw fit to involve fire with his attacks, the ground melted under the heat despite being leagues and leagues below them.
It was truly the tragedy of collateral damage.
After countless small wounds were healed on Yabo’s body, Rolf broke away and held up a hand to signal a break.
"Oh?" Yabo stopped, likely acquiescing due to a mixture of shock and interest. “Tired already, Sword Star? I had thought you had more in you, considering how you were fine-tuning your power to cause as little damage to the surroundings as possible. Only your strength is lauded, but it seems your kindness must be noted as well.”
Rolf shouldered the black blade as his aged eyes regarded the other. “I had some leeway. Considering how my opponent isn’t very dangerous.”
It was indeed true that he was taking special care so that his strikes wouldn’t rough up the surroundings as much as Yabo’s, but there was a reason for that other than some twisted form of compassion for whoever lived in this land.
“Leeway, you say?” Yabo chuckled, not seeming offended in the slightest. “I must admit that your skill with a blade is immense, given how I haven’t landed a hit all this time. But I’ve seen better.”
“Really, now?”
“Indeed. It’s a bit disappointing to see someone called the Sword Star only amount to this much.”
Rolf couldn’t help but smile at that. “You know, plenty of the young whelps I teach back home complain about their monikers so much, because it gives the enemy an idea on how they fight.”
Yabo’s head tilted slightly to the side. “Interesting.”
“Isn’t it?” Rolf laughed lightly, looking down at his left palm. “But I think differently. I believe that everything, even one's moniker, is useful.”
With a snap of his fingers, the sound of countless tinkling bells simultaneously being rung echoed within their minds before the world went quiet.
“It makes my enemies think that my sword is the most dangerous aspect I have.”
Then the world around them grew dark, as if both of them were in a void of nothingness.
There was nothing below or above them. Nor was there anything on their right or left. The other three Transcendents had vanished too.
In this world, only the two of them existed.
“What…” Yabo sputtered, his composure starting to break as he observed his surroundings. “What is this place…?”
“It’s nothing,” Rolf answered, his previously tense body relaxing. “Well, since we’re here now, we can chat more leisurely."
Aizen had a very practical view on combat, which mainly stemmed from Rolf himself—though Reivan the First also helped flesh a lot of things out. And one of the most important tenets was to never pointlessly talk with one’s enemies.
Emphasis on “pointless”. It was perfectly fine to do so if there was a point. Such as distracting the enemy so they stay still long enough for you to use your technique on them.
'Why does it always work, I wonder...?'
While gesturing at the surrounding void. “Time is diluted here, even from a Transcendent’s point of view. I can still join the fight against the Sage King after this.”
The dragonified elf gnashed its sharp teeth, no doubt offended at how sure of himself Rolf was.
But Rolf paid it no mind, merely sighing as he spoke. “Did you know, elf? My moniker caught on before I became a Transcendent. Before that, I used my sword to solve most of my tribulations—to bring forth my and my friend’s dreams to reality.”
Rolf gently ran his fingers across the flat side of the blade he’d been granted.
“I have changed a lot since that time.”
It wasn’t just the way he fought, either. Back then, peace was an illusion—or simply a short reprieve spent to wash away the blood. It was a simple time, when violence solved everything.
And it still would, even now. But Rolf, by watching Aizen throughout the eons, learned that there were countless other ways to solve a problem, as long as one spent the effort to search for them.
Rolf’s problem had always been the limitations of swordsmanship.
He didn’t have an affinity to the elements or a special gift to give him an edge in battle. So he couldn’t just transform into wind or lightning to reach faraway foes. Nor could he summon world-ending flames to destroy a particularly large and durable opponent.
The stronger one’s opponents got, the more difficult it was to only rely on physical force. Sure, it solved everything eventually, but it took far too long. And by that time, he would be dead. Or perhaps those he fought for would be destroyed.
And so, that’s when Rolf thought of a solution.
Force was the only thing he had. So he had to find a way so he could unleash as much of it as he could without worrying about time.
That was the basis for his domain.
It was a space with nothing in it. A space cut off from the world, where he could truly take his time. There was nothing there to give him an advantage either—just him and his enemy.
“Domains are a funny thing,” Rolf said as he smiled. “People seem to think it has to stay in one place. Leonel believes this and so too does the Sage King, if his permanence in the Spirit Tower is a sign. Elves too, believe this. In fact, it is part of your nature to set down roots, no?”
Yabo’s brows furrowed. “This is a domain…?”
“The Saintess believes this to be true, though she can be forgiven because she hasn’t even truly begun to make it, given how busy she is with her dreams. But I've discovered otherwise.”
“That’s... That's impossible...! You can’t… You can’t just bring it around with you!”
“And who said so?” Rolf raised a brow before shaking his head in exasperation.
Yabo clenched his fists, the transformation around his face wavering. “You… They said your domain was some mountain…”
To this, Rolf nodded. “That is the truth. That is a very special place for me. And it is also conveniently at the heart of the place I wish to watch over. It was perfect.”
“Then…”
“The world favors me there, I almost never run out of resources, and my perception grows sharper while in it. I also heal faster there. And just like everyone else, I am simply better when I’m there. It is, without a shadow of a doubt, my domain.”
Specifically, it was his first domain.
And Yabo seemed to have read between the lines of his words too. “Impossible…”
“It has merely never been done. Not impossible.” Rolf corrected him. "We unknowingly created our own limitations. We forged the chains that bind us ourselves."
‘They once said you were only supposed to have one wife. Then people started having two. Then three… Who says that can’t be applied to domains?’
The Sword Sanctum was formed naturally.
Because that was where he realized his purpose in life. Because that was where he laid his friend to rest. Because it was where countless knights slept until the end of the world. Because that was where he held his eternal vigil. And because when he perished, he wished for some memento of him to be buried there too.
The sheer weight of that place to Rolf could not even be described by words.
Prying it away from the world and making it his domain was easy. Smooth, with practically no resistance whatsoever.
This deep dark void was different.
Rolf had simply rejected the utility of domains itself.
He wasn’t a shield that could protect like the Saintess could. Nor could he push the nation to the next era like the royal family.
In his mind, he understood what his role was.
‘I am a sword.’
Rolf was a blade that would rend the nation’s enemies asunder. What use did he have for such a defensive technique? By the time his enemies made it to his domain, it would have already been too late.
He needed to attack. What need was there of defense if his enemies were dead?
‘It took a while.’
Perhaps he had the Outlands and its countless nightmares to thank. It had produced an almost constant source of Transcendents for him to fight—to use as a whetstone. With their sacrifice, he steadily inched closer to perfection.
In this place, there was no need to rush.
He could take his time attacking as much as he wanted. Because his enemies couldn’t escape as long as he was alive. And because for the outside world, there was barely a difference if he stayed here for a single second or even a year.
“It was foolish of you to come here, elf.” Rolf let his sword arm fall to his side as his gaze sharpened, only to soften right after. “But I’m not so foolish as to kill you. That would be creating enmity with an entire continent.”
Despite his words, Yabo still seemed guarded, which amused Rolf greatly. These elves had so much time on their hands and so much… security in their lives. It provided a great environment to foster skill and techniques, but there was nothing to test the really dangerous ones because they had no enemies.
It was a shiny and intimidating strength. But a brittle one.
‘It’s still not something that should be needlessly provoked.’
“I heard…” Rolf began, as he slowly poured more and more power into the black blade in his hand. “That when an elf is born, the corners of their ears are cut off and planted. A tree sprouts, and eventually, the ears heal.”
Yabo’s brows rose. “How do you…”
“And when they die,” Rolf continued, ignoring the elf. “The tree dies in their place instead. Or rather, the elf becomes the tree, and their body slowly regains its shape. But because you can only be born one time, this can only happen once.”
“No, wait…”
“Do you still have your birth tree, elf?”
It was a rhetorical question. The answer didn’t matter, after all.
‘Should I also kill the spirit beast?’
Naturally, it wouldn’t really die. But the more powerful a spirit beast got, the more time it needed to recover from a death.
But after thinking about it, there was no need. The elf would be a tree for a few centuries. That wasn’t the optimal form to make use of a spirit beast at all. Rolf would rather save the effort on the next fight. He had a feeling that the Sage King wouldn't go down quietly.
Rolf’s grip tightened around the handle of his sword, which was growing brighter and brighter. He didn’t actually know what the power was called, so he simply called it “power”.
Whatever the power was, it was responsible for increasing a Transcendent’s effect on the world—on giving their existence weight. Importance. Significance. And while a Transcendent could easily withstand it, objects could not. It was why, despite knowing how to craft weapons for Transcendents, no weapon could truly fulfill his ideals because they couldn’t handle too much power.
But this sword was different.
This sword wouldn’t break no matter how much he abused it.
“Can you sense it?” Rolf showed Yabo the glowing black sword. “Just imagine what happens when I swing this. The world itself will ensure that it hits and kills my target. If I pour in a little more, it would probably kill you even with your birth tree.”
‘If I had done this in the real world, it would have significantly changed the map.’
Which would have wasted the children of the kingdom’s time in trying to fix the republic, so he tried to avoid it when possible.
“We…” Yabo preemptively undid his fusion with his spirit beast. He then raised both hands in surrender as he smiled awkwardly. “We can still talk about this. I can just leave. Right now. And I'll never return."
“You said the Sage King owes you a service.”
“Indeed. But we’ll just have to take the loss.”
Rolf thought about it. Truthfully, he also didn’t want to waste more resources on this fight. The Sage King was old and experienced in fighting, given how frequently Leonel tried to start something. A cornered Transcendent who was experienced in combat was a dangerous thing and he wanted as much leeway as he could get.
Furthermore, the fact that the Sage King willingly ventured out of the Spirit Tower—which was obviously the Sage King’s domain—was suspicious. Sure, there was bait. But still.
‘I can’t really trust him though.’
Thinking about it, nothing was stopping the elf from simply going away and then returning to interrupt at a critical moment. And that pretty much decided things for Rolf.
‘I do not gamble.’
He would not let fate roll its dice on this.
“It was foolish of you to come here, elf.” Rolf raised the sword in the air, watching as Yabo’s face fell. “When you return, tell your people what happened here. Tell them I am here. Tell them I am always ready.”
The elf was just about to say something, but by then, Rolf’s sword had already drawn a graceful arc downward.
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The void was cut along with the elf, so Rolf found himself back in the real world after his attack. His sword arm felt numb but that wasn’t all that strange. The last time he used this technique, he didn't have an arm afterward. It took an entire year to grow back, even when he stayed within the Sword Sanctum to accelerate his recovery.
Internally, he just hoped the elves wouldn’t call his bluff. The chances were low, given typical elven temperaments. Yabo had simply been an anomaly, not the norm.
But crazy people existed. Rolf merely hoped the message wouldn’t reach them.
It was essential, however. Because the elves couldn’t be allowed to think that humanity was weak. Or else they would be far more willing to dip their toes in Sentorale—just like today. Rolf was forced by circumstance to retaliate for their invasive acts.
‘Now, how are the others doing…?’
Rolf looked around. He knew barely any time had passed. Not even a second, most likely. But anything could happen in that time.
A sky-piercing shriek pierced the air and Rolf had to infuse power into his eardrums so they could handle the strain. It was a bit of a waste, but the alternative was blocking off his hearing—and doing that to one of his eight senses was beyond foolish.
He didn’t even have to look to find out what had made the noise.
There was a giant vortex where the giant silver owl and the other four spirit beasts used to be. And Rolf’s sixth sense—his intuition—was telling him not to allow that to happen. Even though it wasn’t life-threatening in itself, it would most likely be very inconvenient.
‘Damn these incompetent…’
Rolf hastily poured power into his sword again, fine-tuned it, and then swung. It was a process that took a fraction of a second.
A scar was painted over the sky where the vortex was, and it spat out the spirit beasts involved. This technique, which had yet to be named because he didn’t like naming techniques in the first place, was what he had initially planned to use to split Yabo and the dragon spirit beast.
Valter and Freed had been a tremendous helper in this endeavor. Truly, having comrades was a wonderful thing. Rolf just wished he had time to perfect it on Transcendents because that had required a lot more power than he thought.
“I kill the intruder.” Rolf sighed, trying not to let his two allies know that he was running on fumes by now. “Now I save you from the Sage King. What was the point of this alliance if I have to do everything myself?”
Jerme, who was the youngest of the Transcendents present but was just as old as Valter, didn’t dare to reply. He merely scratched his scruffy hair and smiled sheepishly. “The Sword Star is really something else. I’m glad I’ve never had to step on Aizen’s toes.”
“Bah.” Leonel snorted. “Don't act all high and mighty, old dog. You wouldn’t even have time to do whatever you just did if it weren’t for us.”
‘True enough.’
Having fought on numerous occasions, Leonel knew a lot about how Rolf fought. The unnaturally perceptive bastard had avoided his blade too many times to count.
Since his second domain wasn’t a physical location, he had to construct it from scratch every time he used it. That took a lot of time in a fight between Transcendents. Generally speaking, the target had to still be in the location by the time the domain was done too.
It had a lot of drawbacks, for all the benefits it granted him.
But it worked this time. And that’s all that matters.
Now, he would step back and let these two take center stage as he took on a more supportive role.
‘Well, there was a bump along the way, and this situation isn’t exactly optimal. But it’s three against one.’
Rolf sighed as he brandished his sword. Now that the unexpected guest got kicked out, it was time to resume kill who they came here to kill.
Comments
The3rd
Infinite cookies are here ♾️🍪
mechanizedbush
Tftc! "that dastard" -> "that bastard"? "Jerme, the youngest" -> "Jerme, who was the youngest" Minor, but I think that flows better
Tsorov
Very interesting chapter, and very interesting insights into transcendance. Does Transcendants being only as strong as Ascendants if they are not "buffed" by the world mean that if Reivan becomes a Transcendant, he can lie to the world that his opponent is someone else and cripple them that way?
Tsorov
Thx for the chapter! The ef was surprised. ->elf “Time is even diluted here, even from -> one even too much
