Chapter 6: Rebellion

"Quinn!"

The Seal of Law proved far more adept than his own apprentice's efforts.

Perhaps due to his extensive knowledge and mindset, Boldon struggled to fathom the myriad peculiar uses of the Seal of Law.

However, a solid foundation naturally yielded tangible benefits in the primary function of the Seal of Mana.

An orange magic shield materialized in the blink of an eye.

Stronger than Lane's, it had a superior capacity to withstand physical attacks.

If the three sinister ghosts charged at Quinn's shield, they would likely end up as "stickers on the wall."

Yet, in Boldon's bloodshot cat-like eyes, two arrows, one long and one short, approached first and second.

The long one originated from a longbow, and upon striking the shield, it produced a sharp 'crack.'

The orange shield suddenly overloaded and shattered.

The power of the longbow far exceeded what was depicted in films and games. A battlefield longbow, designed for sustained output rather than high poundage, could pierce modern steel from mere steps away.

Nonetheless, it remained an undeniable truth that human bodies, or hunters' bodies, were powerless against steel.

Quinn's seal could only withstand one arrow, but there was no frustration in Boldon's eyes.

The outcome was both reasonable and fortunate. The longbowman's skill was exceptional, and his arrow headed straight for Boldon's throat!

The Demon Hunter's school armor lacked a throat protector.

A direct hit would render him no different from an ordinary farmer.

A sharp arrow would pierce through skin, sinew, cartilage, blood vessels, and airways, scraping through bone and emerging on the other side.

Though a demon hunter's flesh is tougher than a human's, the disparity between steel and flesh rendered that toughness nearly insignificant.

The arrow from the longbow was deflected by Quinn, granting Boldon precious moments to react.

In front of the crossbow bolt—faster and more powerful but arriving later due to being fired afterward—the man barely managed to raise his arm.

'Ding!'

A loud metallic clash resonated.

The crossbow bolt collided with Boldon's metal arm guard, bouncing off!

His thick arm shook.

Crossbow bolts were formidable tools of war, capable of piercing several millimeters of plate armor.

Even after being dampened by the gauntlet, the force was enough to leave a sizable bruise on the Demon Hunter's wrist.

With lesser armor, the bolt would have embedded itself in flesh!

But pain couldn't deter the demon hunter from fighting!

The raised wrist smoothly reached behind his back, drawing forth a gleaming steel sword that slid from its sheath with a smooth friction of metal.

Thanks to the specially enhanced physique and strength of the Bear School, the transition from sheathing to slashing took less than half a second!

The air sliced through with a sharp whimper as the powerful steel swept straight toward the bushes on his side.

Even with his bruised arm, Boldon's swordsmanship remained formidable and terrifying.

His grip was steady, the blade's trajectory precise, maximizing its killing potential.

Against an ordinary person, this sword would be enough to determine life from death.

But that assumption relied on one crucial factor: the ordinary person couldn't wield a shield.

A shield provides the greatest protection in combat.

'Boom!'

The wooden shield emitted a loud, muffled thud.

Although Boldon's sword wind had already pushed aside some branches and leaves, many still clung on, looking like vegetables pressed against a chopping board.

They were sliced between the blade and the shield, sap splattering in all directions.

The leader of the four-member law enforcement team was a seasoned Tamorian sword-and-shield soldier.

The White Lily emblem on his shield bore a deep sword mark, evidence of the ferocity of the blow.

With his veteran experience, he should have held a steady, rock-solid stance in the face of confrontation.

That's how shields are utilized in military engagements: with the center of gravity and body weight pressed forward.

Unless the opponent could push his entire weight, armor included, out horizontally, he would remain immovable.

Yet, under Boldon's hasty sword strike, he was forced to step back!

His murky eyes widened in disbelief, as if he had encountered a demon spirit in person!

Though well-traveled, he had never seen a demon hunter, let alone fought one.

His medieval imagination couldn't fathom a humanoid being bursting with such power.

Nor could he comprehend how this mutant creature had found him hiding in the bushes.

But the battle had begun, and whether it defied imagination or not, it would continue to the bitter end!

A one-handed sword flicked out toward the edge of the wooden shield, akin to a vicious snake poised to strike.

The target was Boldon's blade.

The captain of the law enforcement team was experienced; the difference in length between a one-handed sword and a half-sword, combined with the difference in arm span between him and Boldon, meant he couldn't pose a direct threat.

Instead, he aimed to strike Boldon's blade, disrupting the enemy's rhythm and, with a stroke of luck, even unbalancing him!

His plan revealed the skill of a seasoned veteran.

However, much of what made a demon hunter a monster hunter lay in their ability to cast spells.

While one hand wielded the sword, the bearded man's other hand formed a strange hand sign.

The lips beneath his thick beard moved, whispering, "Ard!"

'Boom!!!'

In an instant, a translucent shockwave smashed into the shield, which bore sword marks, and with a resounding 'crack,' it shattered into two along the existing fissures!

The seal of Alder produced a spiritual impact.

The Law Enforcement Captain stumbled, his wrist wavering in the air.

From his sleeve, a stone shaped like a turtle slipped out.

"Turtle-shaped stone folly."

Boldon's face was as unyielding as an iceberg.

Magic was a scarce resource, a luxury reserved for princes, nobles, or wealthy merchants.

Yet in this world, every farmer scraping a living from the land, every grazier milking cows and tending sheep, believed their misfortunes stemmed from magic.

The fields were barren, the cows fell ill, the sheep went missing—clearly, it was the work of sorcery.

Such fears and slanders sprang from ignorance.

Rumors of "breaking magic" and "banning magic" swirled through the air.

From the crow of a rooster to the charm of a rabbit's foot, there was a market for everything.

The most notorious was the "Turtle Stone."

Even nobles and politicians with little connection to magic were familiar with it.

Not to mention the ordinary soldiers before them.

But the truth remained: the only thing capable of counteracting magic was magic-blocking gold.

The sword-and-shield soldier's eyes flickered with disbelief and panic.

Already off-balance, Boldon knew that with his swordsmanship, all he needed was a light slice across the opponent's throat.

A single cut would sever flesh and blood vessels alike.

Under the intense contraction of the muscles, blood would surge into the chest cavity.

Hemorrhaging.

A hemorrhage that even a mage could not save.

Yet, just as he prepared to deliver that deadly stroke, his solid and steady swordplay faltered.

Then, like a powerful brown bear, the strong man leapt nimbly away from his original position.

In the next moment, two arrows whistled through the air, narrowly missing where he had just stood.

The sword-and-shield soldier seized the opportunity to regain his balance, half of his shield raised in defense.

Despite the shield being smaller and his panic evident, it resembled their initial battle stance.

This was the dilemma of facing many foes; alone, none of the four law enforcement officers would last a round against Boldon.

But now, inflicting effective damage—let alone killing—was a daunting task.

With superhuman hearing, Boldon sensed movement in the bushes behind him.

The sound of rustling grass indicated someone wielding a long weapon was approaching.

A long weapon—another formidable opponent.

At that moment, even with Boldon's fighting prowess, he felt a surge of danger.

He made a swift decision, calling out to his apprentice.

"Lane! Go and take out those two archers! Behind the rocks on the small slope, tucked in the bushes!"

Lane was his 'accidental son,' and in ancient legends, the fate of such a child was deeply entwined with that of their adopter.

Their destinies would shift in the shadows for each other's sake.

After the hunter's mutation, he, too, had shed most of his emotional turmoil, like any standard Bear School hunter.

They were kindred spirits.

Boldon trusted his apprentice in that moment.

His sword might be broken, incapable of facing monsters and demon hunters, but it was more than enough to deal with humans.

Now Lane stood before the halberdier, whose confidence in the turtle-shaped stone had evaporated in the face of the young man's unwavering cat-like eyes.

Sweat dripped from the halberdier's hand as he gripped his weapon.

The emotionless face before him mirrored that of the formidable brown bear in the distance.

Without looking back, Lane responded to his instructor, "Yes, Master."

With the affirmation, Boldon flexed his muscles, poised to overpower the sword-and-shield soldier before him.

The young man drew the battered Weyland longsword from his back.

Just as the halberdier swallowed hard to steady his nerves, Lane declared, "I'm here to 'help' you!"

His tone began icy, but the final words revealed the simmering lava beneath!

With a twist of his waist and a flick of his hands, the magic potion-enhanced sinews ripped apart!

The Weyland longsword, its guard already wobbling, lunged toward Boldon's back with a crack that resonated louder than a crossbow!