Chapter 36: Be prepared for any eventuality

Vis had the habit of silent counting.

Although it lasted only a few minutes at most,

time under extreme concentration stretched infinitely, every second clearly distinguishable.

The black mist twisted and surged like a living thing, relentlessly rolling forward.

He lost count of how many times he had swung his sword, cutting through the long arms of the Soul-Devouring Deity, which were formed from the swirling mist.

The blade sliced through, yet there was no sensation of physical contact—just the sluggish resistance of parting thick air.

Against such incorporeal, shapeshifting forms, all he could manage was the most basic defense.

Relying on the Eye of Meromero,

he pushed the enchanted light to its limit, applying the attribute of holy light over his entire body,

at least to avoid the risk of being tainted and ambushed by the mist.

However, as an ordinary man who had crossed over from another world, before these two and a half years of mercenary experience,

Vis was nothing more than a shut-in who graduated only to find himself unemployed and unable to get a job.

Neither his skills nor physical strength could compare to the ordinary soldiers of this world.

Even with adrenaline surging in dangerous, tense moments and after high-intensity constant dodging, his body showed clear signs of fatigue.

Still, amid the struggle, he keenly sensed something unusual.

(Compared to when I first encountered it in Quiet Day Town, this guy’s oppressive aura feels weaker? Seems like Tisa’s punch actually did some real damage. Now this sneaky monster probably isn’t at full strength.)

Vis continued to fend off the relentless assaults of the mist,

while also, as planned, leaving enough space for the female knight to retreat—

(Counting the time, reinforcements should be here soon… Given the noise on this side, ten minutes should be enough time for a horse to ride back and forth…)

He steeled himself, slicing through another attacking mist arm with his sword, then decisively stopped fighting in place.

He took a step forward and started moving toward the direction where he remembered the main forces were stationed.

“““—Haibardura”””

The Soul-Devouring Deity seemed to realize its prey’s intention.

The black mist shifted from surrounding to pursuing, continuously rolling forward along Vis’s path.

Of course, the Eye of Meromero was no pushover either.

Though it couldn’t directly confront the Soul-Devouring Deity like the Guardian Spirit Blade,

concentrating the holy light enchantment over his entire body allowed Vis to easily break through the interference of the outer mist.

The holy light layer covering Vis fiercely pressed into the thick black mist,

like a body soaked with water bursting through a burning forest, briefly carving out a narrow path.

The clash of opposing attributes triggered a violent magical reaction; the black mist hissed and steamed under the purifying holy light.

Vis disregarded everything and charged forward with all his might.

Just as he was about to run out of the last patch of mist that blocked his vision,

a staggering figure suddenly stumbled into sight from the bushes ahead.

Vis’s heart tightened; instinctively, one hand crossed his sword in defense while the other raised his phone’s flashlight—

“Miss Morfiana?!”

Standing before him was the returning female knight.

Her knight’s armor stripped away, moving through the forest, her once-smooth arms and legs were now scratched with a trail of wounds.

Her long black hair had lost its neat bindings and fell messily over her shoulders.

She looked even more distressed than before.

Yet tightly gripped in her hand was a knight’s sword, its tip trembling slightly.

“Why are you back?”

Vis frowned suspiciously.

But the female knight said nothing.

She simply stood there, panting sharply, her chest heaving violently.

The flashlight illuminated her delicate features, but the right side of her face was swollen and bruised, a deep purple blotch glaringly obvious.

A streak of dried blood still clung to the corner of her mouth.

Her eyes were hollow and unfocused, as if her soul had been torn from her body.

Vis was not so blind as to miss the abnormality.

This was not the expression of a knight who had escaped death only to return to save others.

Those empty eyes fixed tightly on him, emotions churning within—

struggling, fearful, sinking into despair—until finally, everything fell into a cold, silent void.

But there was no time to hesitate; if they didn’t move now, the mist would close the path again.

“Forget it, come with me quickly!”

Vis was about to reach out and grab Morfiana’s wrist to pull her away.

That one movement seemed to trigger a switch.

The female knight’s body shuddered violently,

without warning or any roar.

Her arm muscles instantly tensed, magical energy surged through her entire body, and both hands lifted the heavy knight’s sword high above.

The “Strong Crown” blessing empowered her strike, the blade slashing a piercing silver arc in the dim forest.

The wind howled, almost forcibly cleaving everything nearby.

Vis was certain that,

had he not anticipated and dodged quickly, the slash would have sliced him in half from shoulder to waist.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?!”

He dodged to the side, flipping to increase distance and crouched defensively.

“Are you being controlled?”

Morfiana still said nothing.

The “Strong Crown” technique covered her whole body, the glowing magical energy tracing faint lines along the finely detailed muscles of her lithe and graceful form.

Then came another slash,

this time an upward sweeping strike, sending out a sharp wave of energy.

It seemed designed to spread the attack over a wider area, perhaps expecting Vis to dodge.

The surging wave of energy slammed toward him, nearly knocking Vis off his feet.

Before he could stand, Morfiana, sword in hand, lunged toward his predicted evasion point.

Only then did Vis fully register,

the earlier sword wave was a feint meant to force his position,

and this swift follow-up strike was the real, deadly blow.

(Truth be told, no wonder she’s a Holy Crusader Knight. When it comes to a straight fight, I’m not even worth a grunt…)

Before the feeling even fully settled in his mind, Vis had already raised his left arm.

The bracer on his left hand met the female knight’s sword blade head-on.

“—Hum.”

It wasn’t the metallic clang of weapon striking armor,

but a deep, muffled resonance unique to magical impact, spreading out like a cathedral bell’s toll.

The vibration rippled through the forest, shaking the trees within dozens of meters as if shivering.

“Wh—”

Morfiana’s surprise hadn’t even formed into words.

Having committed fully to her attack with no thought of being blocked, let alone countered,

the defenseless female knight was sent flying into the air by the shockwave, then fell with a familiar weightlessness, tumbling over the ground.

Vis, on the other hand, remained completely unscathed.

The bracer that had taken the sword strike glowed faintly with blue patterns before slowly fading.

—“Forceful Negotiation”

Also an item obtained through prayer, of blue quality.

It grants its wearer a single chance to reflect a physical attack within its limit, with cooldown time determined by the user’s magical power;

if the attack exceeds the bracer’s limit, the equipment breaks but still spares the wearer from damage.

Vis had originally thought that physical defense would be useless against a spirit-like, intangible foe such as the Soul-Devouring Deity,

but judging by the current situation, his habit of being fully equipped and prepared once again saved his life.