Chapter 53: Call Me The Archery Genius (3)

The second Demon Arrow moved slowly. At least, that was how it appeared to Deo and Derant. This was due to the special ability of the Blade Bird Tribe, known as Second Chance. In moments of life-or-death crisis, they could temporarily perceive time in 0.1-second increments.

The trajectory of the Demon Arrow was aimed at Derant, and each of the brothers responded differently. Deo took to the air with his injured wing, while Derant infused his sword with aura to meet the Demon Arrow head-on. But then, the Demon Arrow suddenly split into two, with one half now hurtling towards Deo.

The split was unexpected, but it didn’t faze Deo. He sneered; the speed and path of the incoming arrow were predictable.

Too easy.

Deo swung his sword toward the Demon Arrow aimed at his ankle. Although his swing was also slow, it was more than enough to intercept the arrow’s path. Or so he thought.

That’s when he heard Derant’s urgent voice from below.

“Waatchh for thee spppllittt—”

Deo didn’t hear Derant’s warning, as their slowed-down perception of time made it difficult to understand each other. Deo remained focused on the Demon Arrow coming his way. Now, the Demon Arrow hit the sword... or rather, it didn’t. The Demon Arrow, which had split once, split again right before it hit the sword.

“...!”

The Demon Arrow split into two, brushing past Deo's sword. Deo thought of folding his wings to block it. His wings moved, ever so slowly. The arrow, too, was creeping forward in his sight.

Deo did everything he could. Now, there was nothing left but to watch. The arrow narrowly slipped through before his wings fully closed, and he felt it pierce his throat and chest.

“...!”

Sharp pain slowly spread through Deo’s nerves. He could clearly feel every cell and every fiber of his body being destroyed. The ability that had saved countless blade birds’ lives, Second Chance, was now granting him a drawn-out death.

Of course, Deo still had a chance. Just like Derant, he could tear away the flesh where the Demon Arrow struck and survive. But Keter wasn’t going to allow that. He couldn’t risk wasting the Demon Arrow.

Crack.

Another Demon Arrow pierced through Deo’s jaw. The arrow that had originally flown straight at Derant had abruptly changed course at the last moment, rising to strike Deo in the jaw.

The blessing of the Blade Bird Tribe was over. Time, which had been moving slowly, now returned to its normal flow. Feathers fell gently, like autumn leaves, drifting to the ground.

Victory had no favorites; there was a way that Derant could have won. He had to have charged at Keter the moment the arrow changed its path. If he did that, Keter would have been unable to focus on controlling the Demon Arrow. But Keter knew that would never happen. Derant cared too much for his brother Deo to abandon him. If Keter had focused on Derant instead, Deo would have fled without a second thought.

Understanding their bond and exploiting their traits was what led Keter to victory. Now, there was no need for a third Demon Arrow.

“Kraaagh!”

Karon, having regained his strength, leaped into the air. As Derant tried to catch Deo, Karon bit down on Derant’s neck. His sharp fangs easily sank into Derant’s thin neck. Derant attempted to resist, but Karon pinned his arms with brute force and violently shook his head. Derant thrashed like a lifeless chicken as his neck was savagely torn.

Karon then approached Deo, who had fallen to the ground, and stomped on his neck with full force, crushing it completely.

The wolf had hunted the bird. The victorious wolf lifted its head towards the sky, ready to let out a triumphant howl.

“Awo...!”

Thud!

A stone struck Karon’s snout just as he raised his head to howl. Karon, elated by his victory, turned and glared at Keter with a violent look on his face.

“Sit down.”

“I... am not your dog!” Karon growled angrily.

Though the blade birds were dead, Karon was still half-crazed with battle fury, his blood still boiling. Karon, wary of Keter’s arrows, charged at Keter in a zigzag pattern.

"Always the same with these mutts," Keter muttered.

Karon wasn’t actually going to actually attack Keter; he only wanted to intimidate Keter and show off his strength. He was going to stop his claws right in front of Keter’s face. However, Keter took advantage of Karon’s momentum and strength, grabbing his wrist to spin him around.

Karon’s massive physique flipped over and crashed headfirst into the ground, leaving him disoriented.

“Some people only learn after getting beaten, but I don’t dislike that,” Keter remarked.

Then began a ruthless assault on Karon, who was lying on the floor.

Werewolves were renowned among the beastfolk for their tenacity. Karon suffered many injuries while fighting the blade birds, but he didn’t lose his fighting spirit to the pain. However, Keter’s punches and kicks felt like they were breaking something deeper. It wasn’t just physical pain—it was as if his very soul was being worn down.

“

Whimper

!”

A pitiful whine escaped from Karon’s elongated snout.

The violence of the assault aside, Karon felt like his soul was being beaten up. It was an overwhelming impact, as if his bones and organs were being directly battered.

“Can you change back? Actually, change back now,” Keter ordered.

Without hesitation, Karon shifted into his human form, kneeling with his head bowed, even though Keter didn’t say anything.

“Good boy.”

Keter scratched the chin of an adult man who was at least a foot taller than him. It was over—both the battle with the Blade Bird Tribe and establishing dominance.

For Keter, however, it was just the beginning—the beginning of a delightful settlement.

* * *

Fighting against other races is always exhilarating and fun. Humans don’t have any special abilities, but these other races are born different—special.

𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Keter found a unique thrill in breaking that specialness to pieces. These blade birds, shockingly, were still clinging to life, even with their throats half-torn and their bodies half-devoured by Keter’s Demon Arrows.

They would probably die on their own if Keter left them, but there was someone who couldn’t resist the urge.

Amaranth, if you want a taste so bad, don’t just drool silently. Why don’t you beg for it?

Amaranth wasn’t literally drooling, but Keter could feel the eagerness through his arm.

His pride is what is keeping him from asking outright.

—Ahem. Y-you’re going to want to clean up the bodies, aren’t you? I’ll take care of them completely for you.

Eight Demon Arrows recharged. That’s my price.

—You’re a swindler. You killed them with two arrows, and now you want eight? Four! No more.]

Now you’re bargaining like a human. I want six. Otherwise, I’ll just bury them in the dirt.

—Fine, six Demon Arrows. Now, hand them over.

Thank you for your business.

Keter tossed the blade birds to Amaranth. Eyes and teeth sprouted from the bow. Keter didn’t want to watch it eat, as he was also starving and barely holding himself back.

It’s about time for my turn, isn’t it?

The art Keter learned, Survival of the Fittest, made him stronger with every survival, and he survived this. But the requirements for this art were strict—one had to genuinely face death to trigger its power. That was why even though it was taught for free in Liqueur, no one bothered to learn it.

“It’s here.”

A wrenching pain began in his heart, then spread throughout his body. That soon became an excruciating pain—every muscle felt like it was being bitten by insects, his brain seared as if being roasted over a fire, and an intense chill penetrated his bones.

No, Keter wasn’t being tortured; he was getting stronger. His skin was toughening, his nerves were becoming sharper and more precise. Even his aura that was drained completely had recovered to an extent, and his total reserve actually increased.

Keter closed his eyes briefly to relish the growth brought on by the intense battle.

“Ha...”

Keter exhaled deeply, expelling impurities from his body. When he opened his eyes again, all of his wounds had fully healed. The exhaustion, though, still remained.

Three years and one year, huh?

Keter’s aura reserves increased by three years’ worth, and his mana by a year.

Knights who train the conventional way would probably faint hearing this.

A typical knight gained one year’s worth of aura through one year of training. But with just one battle, Keter gained three years’ worth.

I guess this sounds good without the context.

In truth, it was quite the opposite. Many people have ruined their lives in Liqueur, fooled by the illusion of gaining large amounts of aura from a single fight. It was difficult for people to understand just how demanding the condition of having to survive to grow stronger truly was.

“Hey, mutt.”

“... Yes, sir.”

“Pick up the feathers. All of them.”

It was time to erase the evidence and collect the loot. Feathers of the Blade Bird Tribe were worth a lot; even in poor condition, each one was worth at least two gold. And right now, there were over a hundred of them scattered around here.

Keter left the cleanup to the mutt and approached Jordic, who was sprawled out on the ground.

“Lying there all relaxed? Want me to get you a pillow?”

“...I never imagined such a monstrous being existed in Sefira.”

Jordic underestimated archery. He disrespected Sefira, and he thought of Keter as a fraud, but he was mistaken. Archery wasn’t weak, Sefira was resilient, and Keter was a serpent with wings.

“Calling a person a monster, huh? Have you ever seen a monster this good-looking?”

“Haha, ugh....”

Jordic coughed up a wad of blood and forced himself to sit up.

“I’ll concede the flying wolf. The Bydent family will withdraw today.”

There was determination in Jordic’s expression. It showed a willingness to bear the brunt of the reprimands from his superiors alone.

This guy's completely lost it, hasn’t he? This bastard doesn’t realize his own situation.

“The way you and I see concessions must be very different.”

"No need to refuse, but know that there won't be a next time. Officially, we’re enemies, and it would be best to maintain this dynamic for now.”

“If you have more to say, go ahead,” Keter said.

“You must be aware of the upcoming Sword of the South tournament in three months. I heard Sefira will be participating, and undoubtedly, so will you. I, too, will participate as the representative of Bydent. Let’s have a fair fight then.”

“Ah, right. There’s that tournament.”

“It’ll be a good match.”

Jordic extended his hand for a handshake. Keter pretended to shake it, but instead, he tripped him.

“Ugh!?”

“Good match, my foot, you intruder.”

“Intruder? What are you talking about, Keter?”

“Are you not getting it? You’re a prisoner now.”

As Jordic tried to stand up, Keter hit the back of his neck with the blade of his hand. Already drained of strength, Jordic fainted, not being able to withstand the strike. Keter was planning to keep hitting him until he passed out anyway, so he was a little disappointed.

“I’ve collected everything, sir,” Karon said, handing Keter a bag.

“Why are you giving it to me? You hold it. We need to get out of here anyway.”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“Do you hear the sound of hooves?”

“I do.”

“It’s the sound of Sefira’s soldiers from the fortress. They’re not under Elder Reganon’s command.”

“Ah...”

Taking in the Flying Wolf Tribe was solely Reganon’s decision. Even though Karon appeared human, he couldn’t avoid questioning if he stayed here.

“Even aside from that, this place is already compromised. Surely, you’re not thinking of meeting with Elder Reganon again, are you?”

“But where should we go?” Karon asked.

“I told you already. It’s all taken care of.”

Keter pulled out a business card from his pocket. He bit his ring finger to get blood and signed his name on the back of the card.

“Go to Liqueur, find my subordinate, Dork, and show him this card. That’ll be enough.”

“Is it just our tribe that is going?”

“What, do you expect me to escort you there with a knight order? Or should I lay out a red carpet while I’m at it?”

“No, sir...”

“Go. Trust Elder Reganon and me. Not to boast, but if it weren't for us, you'd all be playthings of the emperor by now. Remember that.”

“I will repay this debt someday.”

“Now go.”

Keter waved to Karon casually.

Repaying this debt, huh. I don't buy those kinds of lukewarm promises. I’ll make sure you pay it back naturally, so you better stay alive in Liqueur.

Karon took the long way back to the village, and soon after, Luke arrived, leading a group of soldiers.

"Keter!"

Luke dismounted quickly and inspected Keter.

"I believed in you.”

"You had to. If you can't trust me, Sefira is done for."

"Y-yeah. Oh, this is Sir Halibo."

The knight who seemed to have been brought from the fortress bowed politely.

"Lord Keter. I am Sir Halibo, a knight of the Sacred Order of Sefira and the lieutenant commander of Hacose Fortress."

"Nice to meet you. Bit of a mess, huh?"

"I was told by Sir Luke that there were intruders, so I came in a hurry. By any chance, are these intruders...?"

All traces of the Blade Bird Tribe had been erased, and Karon had already left. So now, it was just Keter and...

"Bydent?!"

Halibo, recognizing the cross-spear, a symbol of Bydent, was shocked. The soldiers who followed soon understood the situation and were furious.

"There is no way these men entered Hacose Village with permission. Moreover, they came armed and hid their symbol. This is a clear act of trespassing!"

“This cannot be overlooked, sir!”

“But did Lord Keter handle all of this alone?”

“There are more than seven of them, sir!”

“To achieve such a feat just two days after joining the family...!”

The soldiers looked at Keter with eyes full of admiration. Standing tall, Keter gave Halibo a direct order.

“Tie up these scum tightly with ropes. Cover their heads with sacks too. We’re taking them all to the house to throw them in prison.”

“Yes, sir!”

Halibo saluted sharply and directed the soldiers. As they bound the knights of Bydent, their gazes were filled with endless respect toward him. Keter felt Luke staring at him, but he couldn’t help it.

“Call me Sefira’s...”

Keter couldn’t come up with something now that he was trying.

What would be a fitting title that would make the soldiers excited?

Keter could still feel Luke’s piercing stare again. Thanks to that, inspiration struck.

“Call me the Archery Genius of Sefira.”

Well, I’m not wrong, am I?