One of the attackers broke away from the fleeing civilians and rushed ahead of the others toward Walm. From the standpoint of maintaining formation, it seemed like a poor move, but in truth it was neither reckless nor a rash charge. It was a decisive response to the fire magic that had just wiped out the archers. Against a magic user, the only viable tactic was to close the distance and strike first.

“Uoooohhh!”

Without losing the momentum of his charge, the spearman raised his short spear high and brought it down in a powerful overhead strike. The shaft flexed under the force, the spearhead howling through the air as it aimed for Saverlia. Even if a helmet could block the cut, the impact alone could easily shatter a skull. Most likely the blow was meant to force Walm to evade, after which the spearman intended to seize control of the rhythm with rapid thrusts.

The advantage of a plain spear was in its lightness. The rapid succession of thrusts it could unleash allowed no other melee weapon to keep pace, and the weapon’s inherent lack of power in a single strike was compensated for by this opening downward smash.

Considering the attackers rushing in behind him, Walm knew he had to thin their numbers quickly. Avoiding any prolonged exchange of feints and counters, he dropped his stance and swung his halberd overhead. A halberd, with its hooked side blade and heavy axe head, was an extremely heavy weapon. When he had first begun using it, the weight had given him huge amount of trouble. Yet among all the weapons he carried, it had been with him longer than even the demon mask.

The spearhead swept low along the ground before suddenly arcing upward toward the sky. The two spears crossed with a violent clash. The spearman’s elbows were forced upward as his weapon was knocked high above his head. Using the momentum of his halberd, Walm turned on his ankle, twisting his hips and spinning quickly. The spearman’s eyes widened in shock, but he reacted quickly, flaring his elbows outward to create space between his body and the shaft of his spear. It was a defensive technique derived from staff fighting.

But it no longer mattered.

“Uaa…gh?!”

Wrapped in mana, the halberd snapped the spear’s shaft like a twig and carved a straight line across the man’s armor. The spearman collapsed to his knees, then fell forward as though in prayer. A moment later, thick blood began to spread slowly across the ground. His abdomen had been split open, only his armor preventing his entrails from spilling out. But with death already upon him, it hardly made a difference.

“Don’t falter! Attack him!!”

Using the fallen veteran as a sacrifice, the soldiers behind him closed in as a tight mass of blades. If Walm tried to meet them head-on, he would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Without hesitation, he crudely gathered mana and hurled it straight ahead.

A burst of raging flames swallowed both the imperial knight and the spearman’s corpse, dyeing the field of vision blue. Though it had barely been given time to form, little more than a bluff, but the flash and heat were undeniably real. Some halted instinctively at the primal terror of fire. Others raised their arms to shield their vital points. Reactions varied, but in front of a wielder of Demon Fire, even the slightest hesitation was fatal.

Squinting against the scorching heat that seemed to burn his eyes, one man tried to grasp what was happening. Unlucky for him, that made him the most valuable target in Walm’s eyes. By the time the blue flames flickered, a hole had already been punched through the man’s throat.

The demon mask, splattered with fresh blood, rattled with drunken laughter.

Before the soldiers on either side could even recognize that the thrust had come from within the flames, one had his neck torn open by the returning hook blade, and the next thrust churned through another soldier’s eye socket.

“He’s inside the fire!!!”

With a shout, a war hammer swept sideways, scattering the flames as it swung through the air. But Walm slipped between the remaining two soldiers in a forward-leaning posture like a lizard skimming along the ground.

One of them brought his longsword crashing down, trying to cut the knight in two, but the illusion of the blue flames distorted his sense of distance. The sharp blade only brushed past Walm’s body as it slipped through, slicing nothing but empty air. They couldn’t afford to let him circle behind them so easily. As the soldiers attempted to turn, one of them lost his footing and fell onto his backside.

“Get up and—!”

The hammer-wielder shouted in frustration, but the words caught in his throat when he saw the state of the man writhing on the ground. As Walm passed by him, he had left a parting gift. The hooked blade had ripped through the tendons behind the knee all the way up into the thigh.
“Fhggh!”

The hammer-wielder hesitated, torn between aiding his comrade or eliminating the threat before him. Walm answered that hesitation from the highest stance. With a short exhale, the axe head accelerated, crashing down without resistance and cutting from the man’s shoulder down to his side. The soldier collapsed forward, falling on top of his crawling comrade. Trying to push the corpse aside and stand, the soldier fell again.

The wound had reached his artery. If he had immediately sealed it with a magic barrier, he might have prolonged his life, but too much blood had already been lost. Still gasping for air, the soldier clutched at the dirt before finally going still. Walm had struck him down, but he had no time to watch him die. Many attackers still remained.

“What the hell is that guy?!”

“Don’t fight him head-on! Focus on restraining him first!”

While more soldiers were assigned to engage Walm, the enemy commander ordered his subordinates to buy time.

“Break down the shutters!”

“Don’t let them escape! Secure the back door too!”

Orders were being shouted in rapid succession, not only toward the main entrance Walm guarded. At first Walm had assumed the commander was among the forward attackers. He had been wrong. Even after sending five more men to the underworld, their chain of command remained perfectly intact. That meant there were multiple seasoned veterans, or perhaps even non-commissioned officers, among them.

“Hook his limbs!”

“Don’t trade blows! Keep your distance!!”

Careful not to press too deeply into the knight’s reach, the attackers busied themselves with harassing strikes. Amid the chaos, a dull pounding sound echoed out. It was clearly not the sound of a blow landing on flesh.

The uninvited guests were rudely knocking on the shutter with a sledgehammer. At the edge of Walm’s vision, the hammerhead slammed into the center of the shutter, scattering splinters of wood. The rhythmic sounds of destruction continued again and again.

The troublesome attackers were compensating for the difference in skill with sheer numbers and distance. Walm couldn’t turn his back and retreat.

“A few more hits and it’ll— Gghaaaah!”

A scream followed an especially loud crash. Through the gap in the warped shutter, a shadow thrust forward. It was the short spear of one of the accompanying cavalrymen. The spear pierced through the weak point in the armor beneath the attacker’s arm and drove into his chest. There was no need to inspect the wound. It was fatal.

“Damn in! They’re waiting for us!”

“Push them back! Break through!”

The former Felius soldiers, who had expected the defenders to remain sealed inside like a clam in its shell, reacted with open fury when the counterattack came. They thrust maces and swords into the gaps of the shutter, but the results were poor. The clashes through the shutter only grew more violent, continuing without pause.

“Haah… haa… hah.”

Walm exhaled in short bursts as he continued to move like flowing water. Like his enemies, he shifted from killing blows to precise strikes that crippled limbs. From spear tip to hook blade, axe head to butt spike, no part of the halberd went unused. Without letting his intent be read, he constantly changed techniques between thrusting, striking, hooking and slashing.

The halberd became decorated with scraps of flesh and blood. The demon mask chattered mockingly, as though criticizing poorly grilled skewers.

“If you’re not going to help, then shut up.”

The curse forced through his strained breathing only made the mask noisier. Walm was growing fed up with the unruly thing, but the attackers felt much the same. More precisely, their frustration was directed not at the mask, but at the knight.

“You’d be better off just focusing on me!”

As if to restrict the space itself, one of the attackers pretended to rush toward the door, forcing Walm to respond. Ignoring it wasn’t an option. Grinding down his nerves, he moved to intercept.

If he could simply burn them away with Demon Fire, anyone unable to raise a magic barrier would be reduced to ash. However, setting a town on fire was something only the demon mask would enjoy. And burning down the people he meant to protect along with the enemy would hardly make for a good story.

“Over here!”

“We’ll blow the door open!”

Walm clicked his tongue inwardly at the arrival of fresh attackers. The surge of mana was unmistakably the prelude to an attack spell. Even with an escort, it was unusual for a precious magic user to step forward personally. Their target was both Walm and the door. The implication was clear, “Try dodging this.”

Considering the foot soldiers clinging around him hadn’t withdrawn, the spell would likely be Earth Bullet or… Before Walm could finish the thought, the magic was unleashed.

Ice Spear.

A semi-transparent spear of water-attribute magic, solid enough to pierce flesh. While smashing the fingers of an overeager soldier with the butt spike of his halberd, Walm drew the weapon back. The front-line attackers loosened their hold, unwilling to be caught in the spell’s path.

Walm fixed his cursed eyes on the incoming ice spear and met it with his halberd, but he had no intention of matching it with brute force. The impact jolted through his hands, but his grip held firm. The axe head shaved across the icy surface, knocking its angle off course. The Ice Spear slammed harmlessly into the outer wall, missing both the imperial knight and the door.

“H-he cut it down?!”

“…Next one! Keep it coming!!”

Behind the mask, Walm smiled.

In a fight to the death, the side that flinches first loses. The commander who had been calmly issuing orders now visibly faltered in front of his soldiers.

This would turn into a filthy brawl, but that suited Walm just fine. After all, he was a knight who had once been nothing more than a dirt-covered farmer. Fighting in the mud was something he knew all too well.

Translator – Lyxxna