#015. The Tyrant's Fangs
Sophia was aghast.
A man wearing the exact same robe as the one who had tied her up in the temple.
Unlike then, he wasn't wearing his hood up, so she could see his face.
"I-It can't be… Why are you…"
"Oh, my lord. Are you surprised?"
The monster's true identity was the Guard Captain who had been fighting desperately at the lord's castle with Hanna.
'Damn.'
Virgil was bewildered as well. No, rather, he was downright flabbergasted.
The purple mana was the same color that symbolized the black sorcerers of the Blood Cult.
If so, the man he had dismissed as a one-off character was actually a black sorcerer from the Blood Cult.
Furthermore, judging by the density of his mana, he looked even stronger than Serman.
'The world really is interesting.'
The corners of Virgil's lips faintly rose.
In contrast to him, Sophia had turned ashen.
"I-It can't be… Then all of this is…"
Sophia plopped down onto the floor.
Because that man was a knight she had personally recruited long ago when she visited Rowun, the City of Knights.
"Oh my, my lord. I know what you are thinking, but you're wrong. I merely shared a bit of the cult's power with Serman. Do not doubt even his beautiful hatred. There is only one person I laid my hands on directly: the maid, Lena."
"Why… Why to Javelin…"
"Our Blood Cult sought to grant Javelin perfect salvation. For that, wouldn't beautiful art be needed rather than submission through force? Like how the women of the clan became filthy monstrosities, and the Temple of the Sun God they had served their entire lives turned out to be the source of the curse."
Watching the black sorcerer prattle on, Virgil furrowed his brows.
As if determined to play the part of a villainous NPC, his exposition and idle chatter went on and on.
"Furthermore, I shall now become the new lord and complete my work that that wretched demon hunter ruined."
'Hm.'
Virgil had never once thought about what came after the story in Javelin ended.
If the lord and the head butler died, who would be highest in the chain of command?
If there were a knight order, it would be the Knight Captain, but it had been disbanded long ago.
Even the three direct administrators had apparently fled and disappeared not long ago.
If that were the case, the highest in line in Javelin would be, absurdly enough, the Guard Captain.
In other words, if the player cleared Javelin's curse and left via the proper route, the Guard Captain would naturally become the lord.
Regardless of Sophia's death, there was a reason Javelin ultimately became a domain of the Blood Cult even if its curse was lifted.
Watching Virgil lost in thought, the black sorcerer sneered.
"Have you gone mute from fear? Where has that proud spirit gone?"
"I was thinking. Are you done talking now?"
"…That arrogance truly makes me want to blow your head off. The Bishop told me to wait, but I'm sure he will forgive a chance encounter. You shall die here now."
The black sorcerer slowly rose into the air.
Purple energy boiled over around his body.
Judging by the density of its color, he was several levels above Serman.
"Sophia, get back."
"V-Virgil…"
"If you die here, you won't be able to grant my request later."
Virgil was being completely literal, but to Sophia, it felt like concern for her safety and, beyond that, affection for Javelin.
"Please don't get hurt…"
As Sophia ran toward the door, the black sorcerer reached out in that direction.
Black smoke flew forth.
Virgil raised his sword to block the spell's path.
The black smoke flexibly evaded the greatsword like a living snake and wrapped around Sophia's body.
"Ah…"
Sophia collapsed on the spot, losing consciousness.
The black sorcerer taunted her as he watched.
"My, the only time you should turn your back to me is on my bed, Sophia."
The black sorcerer raked his eyes over Sophia's body with a lust-filled gaze.
He soon retracted his gaze and turned it to Virgil.
Anticipating what kind of expression he would be wearing.
Despair? Rage? Terror?
…However, Virgil felt no emotion whatsoever.
To an unsettling degree.
"Wretched cur… I'll make you beg for your life…"
Even as he growled, Virgil silently looked at Sophia.
"She's alive."
"Were you worried she died? That can't be. How could I kill such a beautiful woman so easily? She is mine now."
"Good."
"…What?"
"I said you put her to sleep nicely. I'm about to use a technique I'd rather she didn't see."
"Ha! Are you mad? Or have you lost your mind in fear?"
"If you want to know, try whatever you want."
"…K-Kahaha! You are truly insane! Very well! I shall blow your head off along with that arrogance!"
The black sorcerer's eyes flickered purple.
An incomprehensible language flowed smoothly from his mouth.
Virgil didn't stand still either.
He changed his stance holding the greatsword.
He gripped the hilt in a reverse grip with his right hand and raised it straight above his right shoulder.
He bent his left elbow and rested the flat of the blade on top of it.
He spread his stance shoulder-width apart, extending his left leg forward and slightly bending his back leg.
It was a peculiar and unusual posture for a two-handed sword.
If anyone knowledgeable in martial arts saw this, they would scoff in disbelief.
Glaring at Virgil's appearance, the black sorcerer continued mumbling his spell.
"…nox spiritus descensus hic."
(…Spirit of darkness, descend upon this place…)
The muttering stopped.
An even deeper purple light flickered in the black sorcerer's eyes, and black water trickled down from his hand.
"venénum anguis!"
As he shouted, the black water gradually changed form.
Soon it transformed into a grotesque snake and flicked its tongue.
"You sure take a while."
Virgil spoke in a tone that sounded bored.
The black sorcerer replied with an expression mixed with scorn and leisure.
"Ignorant fool. To grant time to a sorcerer like me. I shall gift you terrible pain!"
When he thrust his hand out, the black snake flew at Virgil.
This living whip emitted a foul stench, indicating that poison was contained within its body.
'Heh, this will be very easy.'
The black sorcerer had watched Virgil's martial prowess until now and had expected a difficult fight.
Moreover, since he couldn't use his specialty, spirit summoning, he had been even more tense.
But thanks to his opponent's absurd bluff, the fight was about to end anticlimactically.
He swung the black whip with overflowing confidence.
Clang!
A sound of metal clashing against metal rang out.
"Die!"
The black snake flew aiming for Virgil's neck.
Clang!
It was blocked by the sword tip.
This time he swung aiming for the legs.
The black snake shot toward the ankle with its mouth wide open.
With the momentum to bite straight through armor.
But once again, it was blocked by the tip of the greatsword.
Clang!
The black sorcerer gritted his teeth and swung the whip in all directions.
Sharp attacks that utilized the advantages of a whip rather than mindless flailing.
But all were blocked by the sword tip.
Virgil's movements were too flexible to be performed with a heavy greatsword.
The more he swung the whip, the stranger the black sorcerer felt.
As time passed, that seemingly inefficient posture looked increasingly concise.
Along with the feeling that the sword tip would soon fly at him.
"Wh-What is this…"
The black sorcerer stopped attacking with a scowl.
With time to spare, Virgil turned his head to look at the collapsed Sophia.
If she had seen his movements, she would have cried out in surprise like this:
'cýnŏdon drăconis!'
The Javelin family's secret ultimate technique, also known as the Tyrant's Fangs.
This was a technique devised by Dreiko Javelin, who had been the vanguard commander of the human army during the Apocalyptic Era in the past, and was one of the highest-grade martial arts on the continent.
No one had been able to use it since the previous lord of Javelin died.
Yet now, it was being reproduced right here.
And with a greatsword rather than a spear.
'Simple enough.'
Before coming here, Virgil had opened a parchment in his lodgings on which Javelin's secret technique was written.
He had a mysterious experience then.
The movements he encountered through text and illustrations were reproduced in his mind, and stimulation was applied to the necessary muscles.
At the same time, he realized a new fact.
This body could copy movements created for performing something after seeing them just once.
It felt as if not his brain but his muscles were engraving the sensation into his body themselves.
What players used as a 'skill,' Virgil's body learned.
Magic that required constructing spells using mana, or sorcery that required memorizing incantations, seemed impossible; but if it was something executed with the body, most things seemed possible.
'Hm, my left hand feels awkward.'
Of course, it wasn't perfect.
The root of this technique called the Tyrant's Fangs was spear arts.
From the center of gravity to the grip method, it was completely different when performed with a greatsword.
Therefore, Virgil had arbitrarily modified it, and its power had diminished accordingly.
"But you're weaker than I thought."
Virgil said.
It was something he had spit out sincerely,
but to the black sorcerer, it came across as cheap provocation.
"You wretched bastard!"
He shrieked in fury.
Yes, this time it would be different!
The black sorcerer slid back.
He brought both hands together and began chanting a spell.
Judging by the stronger accent than before, it was clear he was thoroughly worked up.
The purple light flowing from his eyes and hands gradually intensified.
If left alone, he looked like he would summon the gates of hell right here.
He was burning his life force to wield mana.
Virgil noticed this and didn't wait this time.
He quickly drew Somnium and fired.
Bang!
The bullet that escaped the barrel flew toward the black sorcerer's chest.
Without batting an eye, the black sorcerer swung his right hand.
The bullet, blocked by the energy, turned to dust.
Every sorcerer in this world never lets their guard down when chanting spells or performing rituals.
They always remain wary of the opponent's hand speed and prepare to defend at any moment.
Most sorcerers carried flintlock guns or crossbows in preparation for magical combat.
"…vultu prǽfĕro dolórem ánimi…"
(…Reveal the anguish of the heart upon your face…)
Glaring at Virgil, the black sorcerer continued chanting his spell.
Virgil clicked his tongue briefly and rushed forward.
Twisting his legs and waist, he used a spinning slash.
A heavy killing intent cut through the air.
It was completely different in nature from the relentless thrusting he had been doing until now.
The black sorcerer's pupils dilated.
'This is dangerous!'
He stopped the chant.
He twisted his wrist so his palm faced his own body.
The gathered purple energy enveloped his body.
At the same time, the heavy greatsword appeared right before his eyes.
'D-Damn it!'
Boom!
The greatsword struck the energy.
The black sorcerer was slammed into the wall.
Blood flowed from his mouth due to the powerful impact.
"He's not human…"
He had felt an extraordinary aura from him at first glance.
Back then, he had thought it was an illusion caused by side effects because he had sealed his own body's mana.
But after clashing directly, he realized his premonition had been right.
It had been close.
An aura similar to the Bishop's.
Instinctive fear crept up.
"Y-You'll pay for this!"
The black sorcerer threw himself out the window.
It was shameful, but it couldn't be helped.
He was not an expert in pain magic or destruction magic, so he was vulnerable in close combat.
If he could swing a sword without mana to this degree, who knew what else he was hiding.
That man was not someone he could face.
He decided to wait for the executors who would come as reinforcements.
Watching the black sorcerer fly out the window, Virgil brushed back his fallen hair.
"What a hassle."
He clicked his tongue briefly.
He reached for Somnium but stopped his hand.
It would probably just be blocked again.
"Maybe this will work."
He extended his empty left arm toward the black sorcerer.
Then, using his right hand, he gripped the greatsword's hilt in reverse and raised it above his shoulder.
It was similar to the basic stance of the Tyrant's Fangs, yet different. He supported the weapon's weight with only his right arm.
His muscles swelled from the enormous weight of the greatsword.
Virgil took a deep breath.
Then he moved the muscles throughout his entire body exactly as he had seen on the parchment.
The feeling of the recoil starting from his toes gradually transmitting to his right hand holding the greatsword.
Following that sensation exactly, he pulled his right shoulder and elbow back before hurling the greatsword like a javelin.
Whoosh!
It passed through the open window.
The surrounding glass windows all shattered from the wind pressure alone.
And the sharp sound of tearing atmosphere followed.
The black sorcerer, pouring all his remaining mana into flight, turned his head at that bone-chilling sound.
"…Ah… Blood!"
He shouted something with wide eyes, but the sonic boom drowned it out.
And so the greatsword tore the atmosphere in half and blew the black sorcerer's body apart.
As if he had taken a siege cannon with his bare body.
It was on a completely different level from simply throwing a spear.
It was pure strength not mixed with a single grain of mana, yet its power was tremendous.
"Oh…"
This technique's name was Dragon Fang (龍牙).
It was the most powerful form among the Tyrant's Fangs, compressed with the experience and enlightenment of Dreiko Javelin, who had been the master of the javelin throw.
'I won't be able to use this often.'
He rotated his sore shoulder a few times.
Using spear arts with a greatsword was absurd from the start.
But Virgil had turned the impossible into possible with his physical strength and sense of balance.
If a swordsman or warrior who had dedicated their life to the sword or spear saw this scene, they would immediately stop their training and throw down the weapon in their hands.
However, to Virgil, who had to look far into the distant future, his own physical abilities were merely rated as 'useful.'
"By the way…"
With a distant expression, Virgil leaned against the broken window frame.
"How am I going to find that."
He smacked his lips, thinking of the greatsword that had vanished like a star in the night sky.