Chapter 320: Irritation

“Damn it.” Annoyed, Deon kicked away his opponent after deliberately allowing an arrow to graze his shoulder. He swiped a hand across his face. A searing pain flared where the arrow had pierced him, then vanished as quickly as it came, leaving no trace. He lightly brushed the spot as if wiping away blood, and gripped the arrow shaft.

“Annoying as hell…”

They were sure persistent in trying to capture a Hero. Not only the arrays, but even a single arrow was extraordinary.

A normal arrowhead would have come out easily, but when he yanked, it felt like it was tearing away flesh around the wound. Finally, a vicious barb, the kind used for fishing, emerged.

“Seriously.”

With a smirk, he tossed it to the ground. Even in combat boots, the Hero seemed hesitant to step on it, pausing mid-stride.

“Such nasty arrowheads you use.”

“Seems like something you should be saying, considering your monstrous recovery ability.”

The spot where the arrow had been was already completely healed. Aletea clicked her tongue, seeing the clean skin through the tattered clothes.

“I even doubt if we can call someone like you human.”

“That’s probably why there were so many attempts throughout history to kill heroes once they’d served their purpose.”

“……”

Deon smirked at her silence, guessing she knew, being royalty.

Their attacks lessened while they talked. This lull was the only chance to recover stamina in battle, so Deon casually changed the subject, blurting out,

“You’re relentless, not even giving us time to sleep.”

“And what about you, enduring it all this time?”

Sleep? What sleep? They hadn’t even given them a moment to rest, pushing relentlessly day and night. They’d even rotated teams to get some rest in shifts, just to keep fighting.

What kind of monster was this guy? Aletea’s face openly displayed her disgust. Deon just shrugged.

“Because it’s raining.”

The accuracy of the ranged Heroes’ attacks dropped as the rain intensified. Of course, they kept missing and correcting, but on a clear day, their aim would have been perfect from the start.

Rain was a blessing, despite the chill and damp. That brief respite made it easier to endure.

‘Maybe I should deal with this damn array first…’

He glanced down. Corpses were scattered everywhere.

Searching their bodies might yield a charm or something to escape this damn space, but…

‘They’d never let me search them unchallenged.’

He leaped up, dodging attacks, then used his sword as a springboard for another jump, deflecting arrows mid-air. He felt a dagger whistle past just beneath him. A spear thrust upwards, aiming to skewer him.

He twisted his waist, narrowly avoiding the spear, then trapped the shaft under his arm, using it as a pivot to spin and kick his opponent.

The opponent staggered back, momentarily dropping his weapon from the head-on kick. Deon, regaining control of the spear, ‘kindly returned’ the weapon by thrusting it into the guy’s heart.

“I wonder how many that took down…”

The damn array kept ranged weapons from reaching the Heroes, so he’d focused on the close-combat ones, but still, he figured they’d thinned out their numbers.

…Hopefully.

‘Starting to get tired.’

Physically, he was fine, but mentally, fatigue was setting in.

There was a limit to how long he could maintain peak focus without rest. Frustrated, Deon dodged Aletea’s sweeping horizontal strike, only to spot a low leg sweep coming from behind. He vaulted over the attacker’s shoulder.

Another Hero seemed to be waiting exactly where he’d land. He smirked, drawing a dagger, ready to counter, but realized he was too focused on his immediate surroundings.

‘Ah.’

Should have managed my focus better.

An arrow, aimed at his head, whistled through the air. Red eyes widened, belatedly tracking the unusually fast projectile – unmistakably fired by a Hero.

‘…This is gonna sting.’

Whoosh! A chilling sound sliced through the air as Deon’s head snapped back, his airborne body reeling.

Red liquid sprayed into the rain.

***

The 5th and 8th Corps had clashed – a sudden, unexpected event.

‘Why?’

Belitan, Commander of the 6th Corps, rolled his eyes, baffled.

Why now, when the war was practically over? What reason could they have to fight? Corps disputes usually started with the commanders, but the 8th Corps didn’t even have one.

Maybe Trober knew? He glanced over. The Commander of the 9th Corps was staring wide-eyed, even more bewildered than himself.

“…You don’t seem to know why they’re fighting either.”

“How would I know?”

Trober, still tense from the war, snapped back, then frowned at Derniban, who was in the thick of the fight.

Derniban, equally clueless, fought the 8th Corps, a slight frown creasing his brow. He looked like an innocent victim caught in the crossfire, but Trober knew better.

‘…He was definitely after me.’

He remembered Derniban’s murderous glare, fixed on him. And the way he’d been heading in his direction. If the 8th Corps hadn’t interfered, he’d definitely have attacked him.

…Wait, should I be thanking the 8th Corps?

Lost in thought, Belitan nudged him with his elbow.

“Shouldn’t we stop them?”

“Why? Let them kill each other.”

The cold words slipped out. He felt Belitan’s incredulous stare at his immediate, unhesitating reply, but Trober stood firm.

A short silence followed, then Belitan sighed.

“Yeah, guess I’ll have to stop them.”

I’m impulsive too, but next to a lunatic like him, I feel almost normal.

If the Sanguo situation was completely resolved, he might have just watched them fight it out. Shaking his head, he stepped forward. Derniban and the acting 8th Corps Commander, on edge from fighting, immediately locked onto him.

Meeting their murderous glares, Belitan instinctively rested his hand on his axe.

“…Hey—”

Rumble.

…?

Huh?

Trober sputtered a disbelieving laugh. Belitan blinked, watching the 8th Corps members retreating in a flash. What the hell just happened?

So… he’d spoken, and before he’d even finished, the acting 8th Corps Commander had glanced between his face and his hand on his axe, then gestured to his men.

And they’d all bolted.

“…What the hell?!”

An incredulous shout escaped him.

They couldn’t have run because they thought he’d join the fight? Could they? If so, what made them think that?

‘Well, he did stop them, which was the point… Guess that’s something, at least.’

What a mess. His brain, already fried, was seizing up completely. As he struggled to make sense of it, Derniban, who had calmly slung his bow over his shoulder, spoke.

“They must be hiding something. We should catch them and find out.”

“Sanguo isn’t fully secure yet…”

That makes it even more serious. This could be seen as sabotaging the conquest of the Human Realm. Maybe they’re even in league with the humans.”

“Maybe…”

Derniban was exaggerating, but it was true they’d caused trouble before the war was over. Belitan nodded slowly.

“Then we should chase them. The Sanguo cleanup…”

“I’ll handle it.”

Derniban glanced at Trober, and said calmly,

He always kept his promises, right to the end.

The request to lead the Lofty Knights flashed through his mind, followed by Deon Hart’s order – ‘after the castle falls,’ kill Trober and the other commanders. Belitan’s question, ‘Are you okay with that?’ overlapped the other thoughts, pulling him back to reality. He nodded expressionlessly.

“…Just need to kill the remaining Heroes and take the king’s head. No problem.”

The conversation was over. Nothing more to say. He turned to his legion members, starting to organize them.

Belitan’s voice followed him.

“Okay, I’ll chase the 8th Corps. Trober, you coming?”

“Chasing too.”

“…Really?”

Wasn’t he just saying to let them kill each other?

Belitan gave him a pointed look, clearly disbelieving. Trober looked away, feigning ignorance.

‘If I stayed here alone with the 5th Corps, one of us might end up dead.’

With no witnesses, Derniban would definitely attack if they were alone. He liked a good fight, but he wasn’t in good shape, and another life-or-death battle? No thanks.

Ignoring Belitan’s glare, he turned and ordered his legion to prepare. Derniban’s gaze brushed the back of Trober’s head.

…….

The 9th and 6th Corps vanished, chasing after the 8th.

Derniban ordered the remaining legion members to clean up the stragglers, then headed for the palace.

He must be on the right track; resistance stiffened the closer he got to where the king would be. But he was a legion commander. Desperate attacks from ordinary soldiers, trying to stop him, were futile, barely slowing him down.

…Here?

After dodging and swatting aside the annoyances, Derniban stopped before a massive door.

He opened the door and stepped inside. Attacks erupted, as if they’d been waiting for him. The assault was on a different level from anything he’d faced so far. He instantly swung the bow from his back to parry.

Just as he expected, a Hero, eyes sharp with tension, recoiled from him.

“Knew you’d be here.”

…….

Someone cornered wouldn’t just attack once and stop. He braced for the follow-up, but surprisingly, the Hero paused, scrutinizing Derniban’s face.

Studying his features as if trying to identify him. Then he spoke.

“…Heard the other corps pulled out, except for the 5th.”

Communications must be down with the castle in chaos. News travels fast.

Instead of answering, Derniban quietly surveyed the room. The humans here… the Hero in front of him, the King sitting calmly to one side, and a human woman who looked like a strategist. That was it?

The King being here was expected, but the strategist? That was unexpected. She wasn’t a fighter, and surely had no duty to stay.

Then, the Hero’s sword tip angled towards him, as if to say, ‘Focus.’

“Killing you, the only legion commander left in this castle, will buy His Majesty some safety, at least.”

…….

Indoors. Wide and high-ceilinged, but nothing like the open battlefield. Bow and arrows wouldn’t be much use here.

Ignoring the last Hero’s bravado, he slung his bow over his shoulder and shifted his hands. Razor-sharp nails extended, a gruesome display.

The tension ratcheted up. Derniban broke the deadlock that had stretched into eternity and moved first.

Clang!

Hand blurring like lightning, he knocked aside the sword and lunged at the Hero.