Episode 241 – Hunt (8)
To the left was Belin—short, but thick and solid.
Like the name of his wife, it was a sword with a firm and densely packed core.
To the right was Reyna—long, with a sharp blade.
Like a teenage daughter, it bounced lightly, almost playfully.
Belin and Reyna—the twin swords named after his beloved wife and daughter.
Perhaps that was why he felt more attached to them.
[Finding a swordsmanship style suited for these weapons will be difficult.]
Even Dorneth Gader, the great master who was always confident, looked troubled for the first time as he handed over the completed twin swords.
The lengths were different, as were their thickness, weight, and balance.
Two swords with completely different personalities.
[But I can assure you, they’re a perfect fit for you. It's the intuition of a master craftsman, so you can trust it.]
Weapons perfectly suited for him.
At first, he didn’t trust those words.
But as time passed, and he bonded with the twin swords, he came to understand what Dorneth had meant.
The moment the connection was made and he gripped the swords, he instinctively knew how to handle them.
Kkang–!
Sparks flew.
Thick and solid Belin specialized in defense.
Lochter would parry or deflect Harkman’s greatsword using Belin, and at the same time, retreat and strike at the enemy’s heart with the long blade of Reyna.
On the other hand, Harkman struggled to keep up, having to quickly retrieve his greatsword to block rather than attack.
The spacing of Belin and Reyna.
The direction shifts and precision.
Even the speed.
Everything was different, yet Lochter controlled both swords perfectly.
It wasn’t some secret sword art that required years of training.
It was just fundamentals.
Smooth chained attacks, alternating between offense and defense.
[Swordsmanship Mastery]
[Master of the Basics]
Lochter recalled his list of Divine Names.
From the start, this mismatched pair of swords didn’t require sword techniques.
Rather, it was difficult to apply any.
So Lochter didn’t use swordsmanship—he simply wielded the twin swords.
‘Above the ankle.’
“Extend two inches lower.”
“Retrieve faster.”
Over twenty years, he’d held a sword in each hand and executed hundreds of thousands—no, millions—of slashes.
The same training, the same movements, the same boring repetition.
Though mocked by other knights, this training had forged the Lochter of today.
Even with eyes closed, he could visualize the trajectory, the distance, and the point of contact.
That’s when he realized—
The attacks from his left and right hands felt like they were coming from two different people.
Lochter was only one man, but to Harkman, it must have felt like fighting two.
“Damn it!”
Curses spilled from Harkman’s mouth.
The battle wasn’t going as he’d expected, and impatience began to set in.
He might have been hoping for an opening if he just held out, but—
Kkaaaang—!
“...Kuhugh!”
Lochter realized—it wouldn’t be so easy.
Overload burst, and the scream he had held back escaped his lips.
He staggered back.
“Heh heh heh, now it’s finally got some bite.”
A greatsword dyed in silver steel.
Harkman’s weapon carried not just the aura of steel, but layers of enchantments.
There was a limit to what could be blocked through mere contact.
So Lochter kept absorbing the shock while concentrating power into the twin swords.
However, it consumed a terrifying amount of mental strength.
He had trained for counterattacks, but real battle was different.
His mental energy was draining too quickly.
[I want to rest! I want to rest! Please, stop!]
A thought crept in.
A whisper born of the devil forged for the sake of greatness, tempting Lochter.
As his mental strength weakened, the thought screamed at him—drop the swords, give up.
“Shut up.”
Muttering to himself, Lochter steeled his resolve to regain focus.
Kkaduk–
He bit his tongue and spat out blood.
The sharp pain brought clarity back.
Hoo—
As he exhaled and extended the twin swords again, the charging Harkman hesitated.
Wuuuuung!
The blades of Belin and Reyna glowed crimson, their presence unmistakable.
Darker than ever before.
A result of enduring not just physical attacks, but the magical bombardment from earlier.
Such endurance would’ve been impossible before.
It was a miracle made possible only through Belin and Reyna.
Lochter steadied his stance, forcing strength into his heavy eyelids.
‘Just once more?’
It felt like he hadn’t slept for fifteen days.
Constant whispers lured him.
He pushed them away with willpower, but it was so agonizing he couldn’t hold out much longer.
Countering was a double-edged sword.
This battle had made that painfully clear.
“Gonna use that damn skill again? At best, one or two more times, right?”
Like a seasoned knight, Harkman had already figured out the limits of the ability.
Two counters had been used, but they hadn't dealt a fatal blow.
Runes etched across dazzling armor.
A greatsword used like a shield.
Magic-covered gear turned Harkman into a fortress.
It was a powerful foe, but Lochter had gained something from today’s battle:
How to maximize the power of the counter.
He recalled the method in his mind, but no opening presented itself.
As he briefly caught his breath, Harkman’s greatsword cut through the air.
Chachang–!
Two daggers flying along an arc deflected off the greatsword.
“You damn insect!”
As Harkman snarled at the weapons, another dagger flew in.
He scoffed at first, but as soon as he realized Karl had thrown it, Lochter’s eyes flashed—he rushed forward.
A feint followed by the real attack.
It was the same throwing pattern he himself had fallen victim
to.
This was the moment.
Booong—!
The greatsword cleaved air.
Harkman’s face showed clear bewilderment.
He swung again—but missed.
The dagger twisted in midair like a living bird, darting toward Harkman’s throat.
He quickly raised a gauntlet to protect himself, but the force of the dagger was stronger than expected.
Kwaaang—!
The energy from Spectral Form exploded right in front of him, throwing Harkman off balance.
Danger!
Sensing it instinctively, he raised his greatsword defensively.
Just as expected—Lochter charged with his twin swords.
Kakakakakang—!
The rising greatsword was redirected with Belin.
Sparks flew, and although the direction changed, it wasn’t deep enough.
He could absorb the shock, but instead Lochter sacrificed his shoulder.
Sskuk—
Part of his shoulder was sliced off.
Blood splattered onto his cheek, but Lochter’s gaze remained locked on Harkman’s armor.
There was no point countering a brute-force sword that could even shatter weapons.
Lochter’s target was the armor’s connecting joint.
Paaat—
Reyna’s tip pierced between Harkman’s armpit.
Sensing it, Harkman urgently lowered his arm, closing the joint and stopping the blade.
He grinned and gripped his greatsword.
“It’s pointless...!”
But in that moment—
Flash!
A shockwave exploded at the sword tip, slamming Harkman into the wall.
Counter!
Lochter gripped Reyna tightly.
With the dimmed sword pointed forward, he charged again.
“Kuaaaahhh!”
With a battle cry, Reyna aimed for Harkman’s neck.
Harkman quickly raised his greatsword.
Sparks flew and Reyna was knocked away.
As Harkman prepared a magical counterattack, his eyes widened in shock—
Belin was rushing in.
Wuuuung!
The blade of Belin was glowing crimson.
Lochter’s ultimate counter strategy.
Two pinpoint counters.
Only possible with twin swords.
Following Reyna’s first strike, Belin’s second counter stabbed the same armor joint.
Same place, same force.
Again, Harkman lowered his arm to close the joint, but the first counter had loosened it—creating a gap.
Puhk—
Belin’s blade dug deep between his ribs.
“Ggeaaagh!”
As Harkman’s scream echoed, Lochter, looking like a demon, twisted the sword hilt and exploded its power.
Flash—
The second counter detonated inside Harkman’s armor.
Pupupupuhk!
The sound of flesh tearing.
Standing before Harkman, Lochter’s entire body was drenched in blood.
The shockwave exploded inside the armor.
Blood flowed from Harkman’s eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.
His body was reduced to minced meat inside.
“Kuhhuk!”
Coughing up blood, Lochter doubled over, and Harkman’s body fell with a thud.
Kneeling beside him, Lochter had triumphed over Harkman Oleve, the Iron Knight, a 5-star knight renowned even in Hell Grime.
Leaning against the wall, Lochter gazed at Belin and Reyna and smiled faintly.
He had named them after his wife and daughter who had passed.
He had promised—
To become the continent’s greatest swordsman.
This, he thought, was his first step toward that promise.
A small victory.
“C-Captain!”
“Damn it, fall back!”
Knights who had been locked in battle with the assassins abandoned the fight the moment they saw Harkman fall.
It wasn’t just because their commander had died—the assassins were unusually skilled.
Normally, exposed assassins were easy prey for knights, but even going all out, it was tough.
Even with magic, the assassins responded with unsettling poise.
‘They’re strong. These bastards!’
They weren’t average assassins.
At the very least, they were 3-stars, maybe even 4-stars—very tricky opponents.
“Detonate!”
At the signal, knights triggered spells to open a gap and dashed back through the passage they’d entered.
The Specters chased right after them.
“Damn it! Scatter!”
The chase didn’t last long—the Specters scattered in all directions.
Kwa kwa kwa kwaang!
Even the ambush magic traps failed to land, and the knights cursed as they fled.
Reading the magic patterns and dodging them—
Though it was the Specters’ first time facing magic, they handled these unorthodox battles with ease.
That extreme training under the witches of Ordor Forest and Natasha was paying off.
For the Specters, magic was still easier to handle than shamanic arts.
Clicking their tongues after evading traps, they resumed pursuit.
“Fucking bastards fight so damn dirty.”
“Isn’t that just like our Captain?”
“Yeah, the Captain’s seriously filthy—”
“Shut up!”
As they bantered, shadows zipped overhead.
It was Karl, using Spectral Form to scale walls and glide across surfaces.
The Specters chuckled dryly.
“Like a damn spider.”
“We talked it over—he’s more like an octopus.”
“Huh? An octopus? Yeah, that fits.”
“With ugly added, it’s perfect.”
“Ugly octopus??”
As they burst into laughter at the bizarre nickname, Karl, moving along the walls, began throwing daggers that targeted the knights’ ankles.
Even Harkman had failed to block those Spectral daggers at first.
The knights couldn’t stop the daggers and screamed.
Some bought time with shields, but the Specters’ ambush soon took their lives, one by one.
This was the moment Harkman’s support force—sent by Demtor—was wiped out by Hunt’s hand.
“I am the hero of this victory.”
Karl stroked his chin, praising himself.
From Harkman, who had shown an opening to his throw, to the knights before him—
All of it began with his intervention.
“This should be enough to earn me the spotlight in Hunt.”
Karl returned to Lochter, full of expectations for the name he’d build for himself—
Completely unaware that the rise of his fame had already begun... from the words of his subordinates.