Pulling on the chain stake, Najin reflected that this was certainly an effective strategy. As befitted a unit that hunted wyverns for a living, the tactics they had devised were well suited to the task.

As monsters that had inherited a trace of dragon blood, wyverns possessed both considerable resistance and innate sensory abilities. Landing a spell on a wyvern that could read the flow of mana and take evasive action in midair was no easy feat.

The same went for bolts fired from large ballistae. They were damned hard to land, and even a hit would do little damage. An archer who had reached a level equivalent to a Sword Seeker might be another matter, but such archers were too rare to provide a standard countermeasure.

'So the strategy they chose... '

Was close combat using chain stakes.

Whether they approached along chains strung like spiderwebs or took a running leap to throw their stakes, they first got as close to the wyvern as possible.

They aimed for its unscaled belly or the membranes of its wings. Once the stake was lodged, they used the chain's recoil to launch themselves skyward and climb onto the wyvern's back.

It was an extremely dangerous maneuver that demanded considerable skill.

But once they managed to get aboard, once the wyvern came within reach of the blades in their hands... the fight entered the domain of swordsmen and other warriors.

Najin wound his way up the chain and seized the stake embedded in the wyvern's belly with a firm grip. He had no need to watch the wyvern-hunting unit to learn what came next. His combat experience told him exactly how to move.

Using his body's momentum, he shifted his stance. Like a bat hanging from a cave ceiling, he held the stake in one hand and planted both feet against the wyvern's belly.

It was an unstable position, but that did not matter. He was about to secure his balance. One hand gripped the stake. What, then, would he do with the other? Najin was a swordsman, and there was only one thing for a swordsman to do.

THUNK!

Holding his sword in a reverse grip, Najin plunged it into the wyvern's belly. With no scales covering the flesh there, the blade wrapped in sword aura sank deep with astonishing ease.

SCREEEEEECH!

Blood sprayed as the wyvern screamed.

But the wound was shallow. The wyvern's belly was thick, and his sword was too short to reach in and ravage its organs. Killing it by stabbing its belly would take a long time, and clinging to a bleeding, thrashing wyvern for that long would be no easy task.

Above all, it was inefficient.

Dozens of wyverns filled the sky. At this rate, there would be no end to it. Najin had no intention of turning this into a battle of attrition. He had driven in his sword merely to secure his balance.

Blood spurted, and the wyvern began to thrash.

Ignoring both, Najin ran along its belly—or, more precisely, made a series of leaps. Pulling his sword free and driving it in again, he repeated the motion as he climbed the wyvern.

TAP!

The moment his feet passed beyond the belly and reached the scales, the hard part was over. The scales were uneven. He no longer needed to stab his sword into it. Stepping into the gaps between them, Najin climbed onto the wyvern's back in an instant.

"...!"

Najin met the eyes of the orc rider holding the wyvern's reins. Eyes wide, the orc kept one hand on the reins and drew an axe from its back, but it was already too late.

SLICE!

Najin's sword flashed, and the orc's head fell. He kicked the corpse off to the ground and let out a short breath. Though its rider was gone, the wyvern continued to thrash wildly, doubtless because he had stabbed its belly repeatedly.

'Next... '

Najin examined the wyvern's scales.

He could indeed feel resistance from the glossy scales disrupting his sword aura. Monster hides were inherently resistant, but the resistance of a wyvern's scales exceeded anything he had imagined.

An ordinary sword strike would not inflict a deep wound. Having mostly fought humans until now, Najin did not know how to deal with a monster this enormous.

But he did not have to ponder it for long. A clue lay nearby. Turning his gaze, he spotted a soldier wielding a blade atop another wyvern not far away. Najin glanced over to see how the soldier used his weapon.

He persistently stabbed one spot, tore away the scales, widened the wound, and finally severed the bone with a finishing strike. After silently watching the process, Najin adjusted his grip on his sword.

SKR-R-R-RAPE!

Sword aura wreathed in constellations flashed.

A red line ran from the wyvern's back to the nape of its neck, and blood spurted. Its movements grew more violent. It twisted every which way, desperate to throw Najin off, but...

THUNK!

With his sword embedded in its flesh, Najin began running along the wyvern's back. Scales peeled away and blood sprayed in every direction. When he twisted his sword, the wound opened to expose bone. Ah, so this was how it worked.

The bone ran along the wyvern's back and up to its neck.

Najin swung at what would have been the spine in a human. With a slicing sound, the bone parted, along with what looked like blood vessels. At that instant, the wyvern's movements stopped dead.

The motionless wyvern plummeted. Leaping from its falling body, Najin swung his chain stake in a circle. His next target was close enough that he did not have to throw far.

Now that he had the knack of it, Najin began to run wild.

2.

Gillette Reginpert, commander of the wyvern-hunting unit, stared up at the sky with a dumbfounded expression. Up there, a lone swordsman was making his presence known.

SCREEEEEECH!

A wyvern's scream rang across the battlefield.

Agonized screams. Spraying blood.

A soldier who brought down just one wyvern would be praised for doing his share, yet that swordsman was already bringing down his third. And he showed no sign of stopping, moving in search of another target.

'What the hell is this bastard?'

Najin, the youngest Sword Seeker.

Far from tiring after bringing down three wyverns, the boy who bore that distinction was only getting faster. He would throw his chain stake, climb onto a wyvern, and butcher it in an instant.

As though he had gotten the hang of it.

He tore through one wing with his sword, raced along the creature's back, and severed its neck. On the first wyvern, he had cut through the spine; from the third onward, he was simply beheading them, killing them in one blow.

'It shouldn't be that easy to cut through.'

Even for a Sword Seeker, piercing a wyvern's scales and severing its neck in a single strike was no easy feat. Gillette was a Sword Seeker himself, but unless he was exceptionally lucky, he could not take off a wyvern's head in one blow.

It was only possible when his blade happened to slip neatly between the scales and his sword aura was in good condition.

Watching the boy perform such feats as though they were nothing, Gillette gave a hollow laugh. He sensed something in the boy—something he could recognize only because he had spent so many years as a soldier on the battlefield.

'When you live on the battlefield... '

When you spent long enough on the battlefield, people like that would appear now and then, though very rarely. People with something that talent alone could not explain. People with an innate feel for fighting, for combat itself.

People who chose the best move in every situation. Who instinctively found the answer without ever being taught. Who, with a moment's intuition, surpassed the skills and judgment ordinary people honed over years.

Most of those who survived long on the battlefield were such people, and Gillette knew a few of them. With a wry smile, he muttered,

"You're making me look rather foolish..."

It was difficult to learn. He would throw Najin out if he got in the way.

He had gone to the trouble of saying all that, only for his advice to prove utterly useless. Then again, the boy was a once-in-an-age genius who had broken even that monstrous Sword Saint's record.

Someone utterly absurd had come to visit.

With that thought, Gillette looked up at the sky. The wyvern unit was already retreating.

3.

"Good work."

With the battle over for the moment, Najin had returned to the barracks when Gillette came to see him. Gillette rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, then extended a hand.

"Thanks to you, we suffered fewer losses, and the wyvern unit retreated sooner than usual. That helped us hold the line considerably. We owe you."

Najin took the offered hand. After a brief handshake, Gillette smiled wryly.

"You were flying all over the place, and I never even taught you a thing. You must be the only person ever to bring down five wyverns in his first battle. The soldiers couldn't believe it either."

Najin had pursued the retreating wyvern unit and brought down one more after all. As an added bonus, the sight of the wyverns fleeing for their lives had made the soldiers burst out laughing.

"How long did you say you were staying?"

"About ten days."

"Right, ten days. Honestly, I'd love to snatch you up for our army somehow... but I doubt we can secure someone even the Sword Masters couldn't recruit."

Gillette shrugged.

"I'm Gillette Reginpert. I look forward to working with you for these ten days."

"I'm Najin. Likewise, sir."

Gillette now regarded Najin with friendly eyes. Najin had proven his worth in the previous battle, and a capable soldier was someone a commander ought to welcome with open arms.

That remained true even if he was a mercenary who would stay on the battlefield only briefly.

Though an outsider, Najin was accepted as a member of the wyvern-hunting unit for those ten days. The soldiers were friendly toward him as well, teaching him assorted tricks with the chain stake whenever they had spare time.

"Hold the middle of the chain like this. You don't necessarily have to drive the stake in. Think of wrapping it around like this..."

"Like this?"

"Uh... huh?"

At the sight of Najin mastering techniques after only one or two demonstrations, some widened their eyes, while others laughed in disbelief. Najin repaid them by putting their tricks to use on the battlefield immediately.

And so time passed.

Before he knew it, Najin had grown accustomed to the battlefield. After spending several days there, he suddenly spoke to Merlin.

'This place isn't as different as I expected, either.'

When he first set foot in the Outer Lands, it had felt like a hellish realm where all manner of monsters roamed rampant... but after staying a few days, it seemed little different from the world outside.

Except, of course, for the constant gazes of the constellations and the battlefields everywhere, where fighting broke out practically every day.

"That's because we're on the outskirts."

Merlin gave a brief reply to his murmur.

"Go just a little farther in, and it'll feel completely different. Still, you'd better not go there yet. Without a star of your own, it's more than you can handle.

"For now, let's just get a feel for things here and go back."

Merlin's murmured words did not really strike home for Najin. Hunting the supposedly notorious wyvern unit had not been particularly difficult, and he had encountered no formidable enemy to match the Outer Lands' fearsome reputation.

"Well, that's simply because you've been lucky."

Merlin sighed at his private reflections.

"Unexpected factors always turn up out of nowhere."

And her ominous prediction came true.

On his seventh day there, Najin took to the battlefield as usual and immediately sensed that something was different. Both the enemy troops and the number of wyverns were unusual.

There were fewer than normal.

Only a bare minimum of troops had appeared.

It did not take the soldiers long to discover why. The enemy had brought less than a tenth of its usual force, yet rather than trembling in fear, they brimmed with confidence.

The reason was simple.

Among them was someone who more than made up for their lack of troops—someone who surpassed an army single-handedly. A woman emerged amid the dispersed wyvern unit.

Long red hair hung loose.

Red eyes seemed to burn.

Rather than riding a wyvern, the woman floated through the air astride a staff. Seven scarlet circles rose behind her. The instant the soldiers recognized them as what mages called rings, or circles—

"Retreat! Retreat!"

"Fall back! The mage unit! The unit!"

"A-aaaargh!"

"Kirchhoff! Fetch Sir Kirchhoff! Signal him at once! We need him here!"

"The witch! It's the witch! The witch is here!"

The battlefield descended into chaos in an instant.

Commanders ordered a retreat, and soldiers and knights alike began falling back, forgetting even to maintain their formation. They had no choice. The woman who had appeared was a nightmare etched into the soldiers' memories.

Solely to burn human beings, she had joined hands with devils and cast her lot with the Demon King's army.

The devils called her Flicker.

Humanity called her the Witch.

"The Witch of Flickering Flames."

Merlin's voice rang in Najin's ears.

"Ermina, the Witch of Flickering Flames."

The moment the witch appeared, the battlefield was overturned. A single individual dominated the field and seized control of the battle's course. As his allies retreated, Najin watched.

WHOOSH!

The seven circles behind the witch blazed. Revolving with flames within them, they resembled rings of fire. The instant those flame-wreathed rings stained the sky red—

The witch gestured.

Flames flickered at her fingertips.

Seventh-Circle Spell: Inferno.

An enormous blaze swallowed the battlefield. It burned everything indiscriminately, friend and foe alike, leaving only heaps of ash in its wake. Dozens of humans and monsters were reduced to ash in an instant.

Drifting ash.

A landscape shimmering in the heat.

Through them, the witch and Najin met each other's gaze. Her swirling red eyes stared straight into his sunset-colored ones.

"Fucking hell."

Standing beside Najin, Gillette clenched his teeth.

"Looks like I'm getting that discharge I've put off for twenty years today."