Chapter Twenty-Five

Lark and General Urkawi faced each other. Around them, swords clashed and blood splattered, blanketing the ground. Lark had not expected the beastmen to break in this easily. If these guys have not been weakened by Magic Poisoning, this town would have been conquered long ago. The difference in strength between humans and beastmen were that far apart. 

On the two pathways forcefully created by the beastmen, Lark's best soldiers stood guard to stopper the attacks. The three suits of armor were currently fighting against a nimble beastman who resembled a jaguar. With the jaguar's speed, the three were unable to inflict even a single scratch on their opponent's body. But Lark knew it did not matter. It seemed that in exchange for speed, the jaguar lacked the offensive capability to defeat them. An even situation. 

The beastmen were no longer able to take a step further in the other pathway. It was, after all, the place guarded by Anandra and Commander Daltos. The two, with the help of several soldiers, stoppered the gap between the wall. The beastmen who dared to charge inside were slaughtered immediately. The beastmen had no choice but to take a few steps back out of fear. 

The only thing that could break this stalemate was the presence of this monster in front of Lark. He was sure that this beastman was the Supreme Commander of this Legion. The General.

If this monster managed to reach any of the two openings, the delicate balance would immediately crumble and the beastmen would come pouring in, massacring the residents of Blackstone Town. 

Lark unsheathed his sword. He slightly tilted his head. "I see. You've been healed, huh?"

The General immediately understood what he meant. He was definitely talking about the Magic Poisoning. "Brat. Are you the one responsible for that dead forest?"

Lark nodded. "That's right. I'm the one who poisoned your entire army." He slowly grinned. "And I'm also the one who cut the heads of those fools who dared invade my territory."

General Urkawi's eyes shook upon hearing this. His entire body quivered from rage. His eyes turned bloodshot. Ever since he saw the defiled bodies of his comrades, he vowed to rip the perpetrator into shreds. And now, that person was before his very eyes. 

Before he could even think, General Urkawi's body move by itself. It instinctively shot forward, his fists clenched as he tried to blow away the head of the human with a single punch. 

His punch struck nothing but the air. A split second after, he felt a pricking sensation in his thigh. Looking down, he saw a deep cut, with blood oozing down. 

He looked around. A good distance away from him, the human silently stood. The blade of his sword had red blood clinging to it. In that single exchange, he easily evaded General Urkawi's strike and retaliated. 

"I've been careless," he mumbled. Although he knew that this human was taunting him to gain the upper hand in this battle, he could still not help but tremble in rage whenever he thought of the fate that befell the Vanguard Army. 

General Urkawi tightened the muscles of his thigh and the bleeding immediately stopped.

He looked around him. It seemed that the Magic Poison was starting to show its effects. Slowly, his men were starting to be pushed back. With the advantage of terrain on their side, the humans were killing his warriors one after another. The most noteworthy enemies were those archers in the watchtower. Before their arrows imbued with mana, his men easily lost their lives. 

General Urkawi knew he had to finish this fight soon and join the fray. It was the only way to prevent more casualties on their side. Once the beastmen managed to pour in, the humans would eventually succumb to their bane.

"Human," said General Urkawi. "I would have loved to give you a slow and painful death, but the circumstances do not permit it."

The General's body started sucking in the minute amounts of mana which lingered in the air. Slowly, the silver-black hair covering his entire body turned azure. His black eyes turned crimson. 

It was a high-level technique which Lark was very much familiar with. With this technique, the user was supplied with indefinite amount of mana from his surroundings. Although Lark was also capable of such feat, he never attempted to do it with his current body. The rebound was catastrophic. Lark knew that if he used this technique with this fragile shell, he would die once the spell ended. 

Lark scrutinized General Urkawi. Judging by the reaction of the beastmen around them, this was not the first time the General used this technique. 

The lizardman I tortured told me that the General is an immortal monster. Maybe he's referring to this?

Lark frowned. If this General was capable of handling the rebound effects of this technique, then he was surely a monster befitting the title of an Immortal. As long as his body was capable of maintaining the spell, the chances of killing him was close to nil. 

Let's see how long he can maintain that state.

He was about to attack when suddenly, the General disappeared from his spot. 

Lark's instinct screamed at him. His arms moved on its own and blocked his face. 

An earth shattering sound reverberated as a tremendous force struck Lark's body. The hands he used to block the attack bent and broke. He gnashed his teeth as pain coursed through his entire body. He was sent flying, eventually hitting the wooden wall, destroying a portion of it in the process. Clouds of dust flew about. 

"Young Master!"

"Young Lord!"

Anandra and the Blackstone Soldiers immediately ran to where Lark flew. The clouds of dust receded and a young man with broken arms silently stood. He coughed out blood and his legs momentarily wobbled. 

General Urkawi entered through the new opening in the wall. Behind him, hundreds of beastmen followed. 

"Damn it," spat Commander Daltos. "Is this the end?"

The Young Master who easily defeated him was sent flying with a single punch from that beastman. Looking at the General, Commander Daltos could not help but shudder. 

Lark spat the blood that clung to his mouth. He channeled mana into his broken arms and forced them to regenerate. 

"You're capable of high-rank healing spells?" General Urkawi had entered the town. "Interesting. It seems I can slowly rip you to shreds. Let's see how long you can last."

Anandra stood before the Young Master. Despite the large difference in their physique, he did not back down in front of the General. 

"Step aside," said Lark. His broken hands have been fully healed now. 

"But—"

"—It's fine." Lark unsheathed his sword. He channeled mana into it, making it vibrate hundreds of times in a second. 

He slowly stepped forward until he was only ten feet away from the General. 

"Hey, Gorrilla." Lark's eyes were predatory. 

"What did you say, you damn brat—"

"—The Seven Gates of Mana. How many have you opened by now?"

General Urkawi momentarily froze. This human was definitely talking about the technique he was currently using. But even within the Third Legion, only Phantomim knew the principle behind it. And within the Third Legion, only General Urkawi was capable of utilizing it. 

How did this human find out? 

"There's no reason for me to tell you that," said General Urkawi. "You're going to die soon, anyway."

Lark looked at the General in the eyes. "You'll soon open all seven of them. You'll have no choice but to do that."

What was this human blabbering about? Did he forget how badly he was beaten up with just a single strike? 

Smirking, General Urkawi clenched his fists. He decided to send this human flying again with a single punch. 

As he was immersed in this thought, flames suddenly sprouted from the ground and enclosed them. It blocked the sky, the ground – everything. Only General Urkawi and the human remained. 

General Urkawi realized that the flames weren't hot. He frowned at the human. "Cheap tricks like this won't work against me."

"Is that so?" Lark casually gripped the hilt of his sword. "Gorilla, do you know the weakness of the Seven Gates?"

Lark's figure blurred and he disappeared from sight. Behind General Urkawi, the flames roared and Lark's figure emerged from it, his sword pointed towards the General's neck. 

General Urkawi easily deflected the attack using the back of his hand. The mana covering his entire body made him impervious of normal attacks. 

Lark disappeared again and reappeared to his left. His attack was once again deflected by the hands of the General. 

"Useless," spat General Urkawi. "Give it up. It's impossible to harm this immortal body."

As long as he was using the Seven Gates, it would be impossible to kill him. His body would continually suck in the mana from the surroundings and replenish his stores. In a sense, he was immortal as long as he was under this spell. 

Still, the human continued with his barrage of attacks. He quickly disappeared and reappeared, then struck General Urkawi with all his might. 

General Urkawi frowned. He noticed that something was wrong. For some reason, the amount of mana he could suck from the environment was decreasing bit by bit. 

"Finally noticed it, huh?" The voice of the human echoed inside the barrier of flames. 

Another attack shot towards General Urkawi, but he again deflected it with his hands. 

"What did you do?" said the General. 

There was no reply. Lark simply continued with his unending barrage of attacks. 

Lark actually created an isolated space using the Middle Tier Spell, Flames of Methuzelda. To conserve mana, he did not use the flames to attack the General. Instead, he merely used the Flames to block the mana from coming in from the outside. It was only a matter of time before the General's unending supply of magic ran out.

And just like Lark predicted, the General opened another gate. He tried to suck in more mana into his body but failed. 

"What's happening?!" he growled. He tried to retaliate, but it proved useless inside the barrier. 

Lark did not bother to explain it to him. He continuously moved inside the barrier of fire and struck the body of the General one after another. Slowly, the mana cladding Urkawi's body started forming cracks, eventually breaking into minute pieces. 

Lark did not miss this opening. He channeled more mana into his sword, and with swift movements, struck the neck of the General. 

The Head of the General was cut. It flew into the air then rolled on the ground. The eyes of the severed head widened for a moment, before the light inside it vanished. 

The Flames of Methuzelda dispersed, revealing the outcome of the battle to everyone. The beastmen who saw the headless body of General Urkawi froze. 

"G-General?" 

"W-What happened?"

Lark bent down and grabbed the head of the General. He raised it to the air. He amplified his voice using magic. "Your General is dead. Fighting any further is useless."

A beastman resembling a jaguar quickly ran towards the dead body. Upon seeing it, he froze and his entire body quivered. He locked eyes with Lark. 

Surprisingly, his eyes held no rage nor fear within it. Only emptiness. He slowly walked towards Lark and mumbled, "The body of the General."

Lark immediately understood. He handed the beastman the severed head. 

The beastman wailed the moment he received General Urkawi's head. His cries echoed, and all of the beastmen warriors stopped fighting. They all stared at Phantomim, the right-hand of General Urkawi. 

Although they lost their Commander, Lark knew that they could still turn the tables around with their number. As such, he said, "Take the body of your General with you. Leave. Go back to your country."

It was only a few words, but it held great persuasive power. They remembered the severed heads of beastmen hanging on the trees on their way here. If they left the General's body here, who knew what the humans would do to it. 

Without uttering a single word, without issuing a single command, Phantomim slowly went out of the town, his hands embracing the head of the General. He silently wailed, his entire body quivering as he walked. 

Seeing this, the other beastmen lost the will to fight. They had never expected General Urkawi, The Immortal, to perish in this battle. In a battle to conquer a very small town. 

Several officers took the headless body of General Urkawi then issued the retreat.

In a bizarre and unexpected way, the battle ended. The beastmen started retreating one after another. 

"Should we give chase?" said Commander Daltos. 

He could still not believe that that monster was defeated by the Young Master. 

Lark shook his head. "Don't."

Thankfully, those beastmen did not charge at them in blind rage. Otherwise, they would have annihilated everything in sight. An army unafraid of death was the most dangerous opponent. 

Lark looked around the aftermath of the battle. Numerous corpses were seen here and there. The wooden walls had been destroyed, along with several houses. 

He sighed. He looked at the sky. 

At the very least, they had survived this war. 

***

[Valley of Witches]

Inside his room, an old man with ashen hair silently polished his beloved sword. Embers blazed inside the hearth, while the scent of freshly brewed tea filled the air. 

The old man momentarily looked at the table next to his bed. On top of it was a small parchment. 

He received the letter several days ago. And even now, he could not guess who the sender was. 

All it said was:

The army of beastmen will soon retreat after failing to conquer Blackstone Town. All of them will be under the effects of Magic Poisoning. By that time, they'll be weaker than your average human.

It was short and concise, but its contents were enough to stir the old man's heart. 

He had been fighting against the Third Legion for more than a year now. Each and every time, he repelled their advances using just a small army. But this time, it seemed that they found a hidden pathway which led directly towards the East. 

The old man's reach was limited. He could not abandon the Valley of Witches to protect that small town. After all, this place was a fortress. If the United Grakas Alliance managed to get hold of this strategic location, they would have a firm foothold in their upcoming invasions. 

Three knocks were heard on the door. 

"Enter," said the old man. 

One of his men entered the room. "Guild Master. We've receive reports from the Animal Tamer."

The old man silently urged him to continue. 

"With significantly fewer numbers, the Third Legion is retreating back to the United Grakas Alliance."

The old man froze. After several seconds he stood up. 

Things have unfolded just like what was stated in the letter. He decided to see everything with his own eyes. 

"Arthur," said the old man. 

"Sir."

"Gather all of our men," said the old man. "We will move out in an hour."

Arthur quizzically stared at him. "Sir? All of our men? What do you mean?"

"We're leaving the Valley of Witches," said the old man. "At least for now."

Around three hundred soldiers would still be left even if their army leaves the Valley of Witches. It should be enough to defend the fortress for a day or two. The old man's instinct was screaming at him that he had to grab this opportunity in order to end this war. 

Sword Master. The Living Sword. These were all the monikers the old man acquired when he was young. But now, he was simply the Guild Master of a Mercenary Guild in Lion City. 

If the contents of the letter are true... If the beastmen are currently inflicted with Magic Poisoning…

His eyes glimmered. 

Sword Master Alexander decided to slaughter the retreating beastmen army.