Thraalvex looked on at the ensuing battle as he caught a moment of rest.
Spells flew from both sides—blazing lines of aether, arrows, and stray bursts of flame. A Zelk would fall now and then, but far more often it was a human whose chest was split by a blade or caught in a fireblast.
Even so, the humans didn't retreat. They fought like dying dogs, all teeth and desperation.
Still, it was only a matter of time. Once the Zelk breached the front line, it'd be over. The humans, for whatever reason, had mostly fielded mages.
He thought he heard one of them refer to their group as "the Mage Guild." Human foolishness.
With five mages for every one fighter—excluding the ten from the earlier squad—Thraalvex had seen that look in their eyes before.
That hollow, unblinking stare. The kind people wore when they had nothing left to lose and planned to die taking someone with them.
Made sense, considering the burning town.
Thraalvex chuckled at their meaningless struggle.
His men had returned to him after purging most of the humans from the town. There was little need for him to join the fray anymore—they had already won.
The new group of humans, combined with survivors from the earlier squad, numbered around forty. His remaining Zelk still numbered in the sixties.
Even after losing forty percent.
Thraalvex almost cursed aloud at that—forty percent of his force, gone to bombs. Measly, primitive bombs! Probably the work of that damned thief.
Now that he thought of it, the thief had somehow gathered forces to oppose him. Pitiful ones, granted. Easily dispatched. No plan, no tactics—what sort of leader just throws bodies forward?
He couldn't wait to snap the little human's neck. Just like he did to that other one with the ridiculous fashion sense.
He'd make the thief beg. Make him scream for mer—
BOOM.
Something crashed down into the middle of the battlefield, cracking stone and silencing both sides.
For a moment, everyone paused. All eyes locked on the smoke-wreathed crater.
When the dust cleared, there stood a familiar black-haired thief. Above his head floated a blood-red crown, glimmering with an ominous sheen. The thief grinned and shouted at the top of his lungs:
"WHERE'S THE BIG ANTLERED BASTARD!?"
Speak of the Demon King and he shall appear.
Thraalvex stood, elation blooming in his chest. He wasn't fully recovered, but it didn't matter. He would rip that little bastard limb from limb.
He stepped forward from the rock he'd been resting on and imbued his voice with aether, letting it boom across the battlefield:
"The cowardly thief shows his face again! Tell me your name—I want to know the name of the monkey I'm about to slay!"
The boy tilted his head, pretending to think.
"I'll tell you mine... if you tell me yours."
"Thraalvex," the Zelk spat. "Leader of a mercenary company that serves the Monestary, here to reclaim the property of Monistar!"
The boy's eyes lit up slightly—recognition? But it was gone just as fast, replaced with a maddening glint of amusement.
What was so funny?
Thraalvex clenched his jaw, keeping his anger on a tight leash. "This is your last chance, human. What is your name?"
Instead of answering, the thief extended his hand to the side. Strings of aether danced around him, weaving into a blade. Then more—constructs appeared, swirling in orbit, primed with spells.
Finally, he smiled.
"Wouldn't you like to know, Thraaly boy?"
And he launched himself off the ground, straight at Thraalvex .
While soaring forward, the thief cast two enormous fireballs—larger than the ones from their last encounter. They slammed into the Zelk army, catching two off-guard and turning them into sizzling ash.
It was enough to disrupt the Zelk ranks, buying time for the humans to recover.
"No EXP for the mobs, but there's gotta be some from the boss monster."
I clashed with Thraaly boy, my aether blade crashing against his earthen one. If it were opposite day, I'd say he looked happy to see me.
Even with my shiny new draconic upgrades, I barely matched the bastard's strength. Squire-rank Zelk were no joke.
I grinned wide, threw my head back, then slammed it forward—headbutting him right in the snout.
The Zelk staggered. I didn't wait. [Water Geyser], right in his stupid glowing face.
He raised an earthen wall just in time to block it.
Tch. Skill? Spell? Hard to tell. He blurred the line the way he used them. I would see him cast one time and not another he might even had both.
Didn't matter.
I bolted around the barrier, aether blade ready—only to step onto softening ground. Mud. I slipped—and just in time to catch a glowing white foot right in the forehead.
The kick flipped me through the air. I smacked into the earthen wall I'd just tried to bypass.
Pain exploded through me, but the smile didn't fade. Didn't even twitch.
I was loving this.
Why the hell hadn't I started fighting sooner? Why had I wasted so much time not enjoying this?
If fighting was this fun... then killing had to be even better.
There was only one way to find out.
I poured as much aether into [Reinforcement] as I could, dropped my blade, and launched myself forward—knee-first into the crotch of Thraaly boy.
Zelk might be naked all the time, but apparently they kept the important bits tucked behind some instinctive aether shield. Well, that shield shattered.
And so did something else.
The bastard let out a yelp, but to his credit, didn't go down. He stabbed at me through the pain, the inhuman freak.
I used a burst of [Flight] to dodge back, heart pounding with adrenaline and something darker.
Who the hell takes a full-force nut shot and just keeps going?
He had to be insane.