Santos was walking ahead when he suddenly remembered something. I have a compass.
No, even with the compass, he'd still end up more lost.
"Which way is the town?" he asked.
"It's that way," the one-armed man pointed—in the complete opposite direction Santos was heading.
Nodding, Santos took the compass and started walking toward the town.
Meanwhile, a shadow loomed over Fredar's face. In front of him, leaning against a tree, lay the dying leader of a group.
"Pathetic, isn't it?"
His arm was missing, and his skin looked more ghostly than human.
In a distant past, they were strong rivals. A stubborn man who, despite having a gift for combat with his impressive muscles, chose to become a battle mage—a strange combination.
On the other side, a deformed walker was destroyed. Its jaw and chest caved in unnaturally. Still, the entire team was now traveling alongside the red comet.
Fredar clenched his teeth until they ground together.
"Idiot! You could've at least escaped."
"Their deaths have been avenged."
"What good is avenging them if you're dead?"
"…"
"…Answer me!"
He couldn't. He was already dead.
Fredar wanted to hit him, but didn't dare. Not this man, and not his stupid dream of being like the 11th of the Hundred.
With unshakable resolve, he walked forward...
"Do you know him?" the old man asked.
Did he? Maybe. But not enough to feel anything.
Ukryo looked at the corpse of one of the leaders slumped against a tree. His expression seemed... happy? Or maybe it was just a dead man's face.
"I don't know." But he wasn't going to stick around to find out.
Ukryo stood up and headed toward the only option now: the green flare rising overhead.
Santos saw the flare.
His group was heading to the town. Santos had said if they stayed, they'd only get in the way, and so he decided to escort them to the church.
"Sorry for being a burden," said the one-armed man.
Santos just nodded. The boy seemed to half understand, but Santos wasn't the type to offer comfort.
"Hey, I know we're not much, but can you at least be a little more considerate?" the girl said, clearly unhappy with how little Santos was engaging.
Santos just looked at her and kept walking at a steady pace.
"…Ezequiel, you—"
"Enough, I'm sorry Ezequiel," the squire interrupted.
Santos stopped. His expression turned severe, and his body tensed.
The air became heavy.
"Ezequiel, I'm sorry for what she said. She's young and—"
Trying to defuse things, the squire approached and placed a hand on Santos's shoulder.
Or tried to.
His hand was stopped mid-air, gripped tightly by Santos's hand.
When did he move? he wondered. Even while being held, he couldn't feel Santos's hand—it was like he was frozen in place.
"W-what th—?"
"Shut up!" Santos cut him off.
"!"
"!"
"!"
Everyone went on high alert. They misunderstood the situation, but adventurers were used to living with the constant threat of death.
They began to take formation.
Wait—when did he let go? the squire was stunned. Not only hadn't he felt the grip, he hadn't felt it release either.
Santos had already dropped his backpack and drawn his bastard sword.
In the next moment, a breeze blew—and a shadow appeared in front of Santos.
"Ezequiel!" someone shouted urgently.
Before the shout was even finished, the walker had already swung its sword downward at lightning speed.
Santos brought the hilt of his sword close to his face and, with a slight motion, sliced the walker's ribs and up through its neck.
He twisted his torso, dodging the descending blade and cutting the creature in half diagonally.
The group was stunned—but before they could celebrate—
"Back! Back!" Santos shouted.
They weren't sure why, but they figured it out quickly.
Another walker—no, another super walker—was already in front of Santos, wielding a mace. Weapons clashed.
Cling! Clang!
Santos struck the super walker, giving himself a moment to deal with the third one.
"BACK!"
Then they understood. Acting quickly, they ran without looking back.
The third super walker tilted its head in confusion. It had no expression, but it seemed like it was seeing something it didn't understand.
Blades clashed in the air, sparks flying.
"This is insane…" Santos's hands were shaking. He looked at the second walker recovering from the clash and saw it—
The forearm bone and wrist had popped out.
The second super walker had so much strength that during their clash, it broke its own arm. To Santos, they were a nuisance.
"I'm going all out."
The second walker lunged with full force, its mace swinging down again.
Dodging the blow, Santos stepped back and then flipped backward—just in time to avoid an arrow that embedded itself, leaving only the fletching visible.
"Tsk. What kind of mo—" he was cut off by the third one.
A rain of attacks fell on Santos relentlessly.
Looking for the fourth, he found them quickly. Standing 10 meters away, fully exposed.
Is this a scorpion formation? As the name suggested, it involved a pincer attack from the front while a barrage came from the rear.
His sword was too long. He drove it into the ground and launched himself forward.
Dodging the third's blade, he shoved it aside and, with a strong shoulder strike, knocked down the second. He blocked the incoming arrow with the mace.
Clang!
In that brief exchange, Santos had stolen the mace from the second walker's hand. Taking advantage of the fact that it hadn't switched hands, he skillfully disarmed it.
He ducked just in time to avoid a slash to the neck. With a swing, he shattered the third's back.
The sound of crushed bones rang out clearly, but Santos didn't stop. He swung the mace again, this time smashing the second's skull.
Another arrow flew—Santos moved his head, grazing his ear and neck.
He didn't hesitate. Muscles tensed, he dashed at the archer, closing the 9-meter gap in a second—crushing the bow, and with it, the archer's face.