In Helmut's vicinity, a tumultuous battle unfolded. The snake's emitted scent had immobilized the horses, rendering them virtually legless.
Surrounding the knights who had dismounted, the snake elongated its body menacingly.
Despite their Vis-infused swords striking the snake's body, none of the attacks penetrated.
Clang! Clang! Clang! The recoil numbed their hands.
"This thing's damn tough!"
"It's a strong one!"
The giant snake knew how to fortify its skin with magic. Its scales deflected even the Vis-charged swords.
Helmut narrowed his eyes.
"The magic isn't exceptionally strong, but it's well-utilized. The snake hardens its skin precisely where the swords strike."
It was evidently an ancient monster. Just as the warriors of Basor had become accustomed to battling monsters, the monsters of Basor seemed equally familiar with human combat.
'Interesting.'
Its swift movements across the sand and its massive size put the knights on edge.
Except for one, Helmut.
Even a regal serpent wasn't a match for him. This creature was barely a challenge.
A more Vis-concentrated attack might pierce through the snake's reinforced scales, but Helmut needed to conserve his strength here.
So, Helmut opted for the next best tactic.
'Hit its weak spots.'
Perhaps seeing Helmut as an easy target, the snake opened its jaws wide.
As it lunged, Helmut locked eyes with its flashing red gaze instead of evading.
The gaping maw engulfed the space where Helmut had been standing. Crunch!
The sand where he had stood was now a hollow. Helmut had vanished as if swallowed whole.
"Helmut!"
"Isn't he?"
In the next instant, the snake's eyes widened in shock. A surge of powerful Vis erupted from within it.
Screech!
Tearing through the snake's neck and spewing black blood, a figure emerged. Spark!
It was Helmut, unharmed. As he landed gracefully, the giant body collapsed lifelessly. Thump!
Helmut glanced at the dead snake, its black blood staining the white sand, sending up acrid smoke.
The snake's core might have been valuable, but harvesting it wasn't worth the risk of absorbing its magic.
The weakest part was its flesh. Harnessing his Vis, Helmut had sliced through from the inside, protected from the venom.
He dusted off his clothing, smeared with the snake's blood. Thankfully, the cloak Talon had given him was durable enough to withstand minor damage.
'It's a dirty method.'
His clothes were expensive. Damage would have been inconvenient.
Yet, there was no choice. Helmut's decision to let himself be swallowed whole was chillingly calm.
Even the experienced Palma Knights were taken aback by his method of combat.
"Recklessly bold, that one."
"Fits the profile of a tournament finalist."
"White."
Helmut approached his horse, tapping its side. Though standing, the horse seemed unwell.
'Dying would be troublesome.'
Helmut glanced towards the village.
Distant dust clouds revealed two approaching figures.
His exceptional vision caught sight of the two amidst the dust. Instinctively, his feet moved.
A knight offered words of consolation.
"Must be fond of your horse. It's just paralysis poison. It'll weaken over time; it'll be fine."
"In that case, please look after my horse."
"What? Where are you going?"
As the knight exclaimed, Helmut disappeared.
Without his horse, he had to run. Yet, in this desert, he could run almost as fast as any horse.
His steps barely touched the sand. A sense of urgency enveloped him.
The time had come. The Palma Commander was making his move. Any mistake now would ruin all his patience.
'Helmut, be careful,' he had warned.
Yet, the youth followed without thought. Helmut's brow furrowed.
'He should be aware.'
Aware that he was alone with the person of interest, the Palma Commander.
If he was aware, he might last a while. Until Helmut arrived.
Tracing their path wasn't difficult. The horses' kicked-up dust hung in the air long enough to be followed.
Helmut felt the mist-like particles against his skin as he pursued.
The horses of the Palma Knights were accustomed to the desert. The two he was following rode such steeds. Though he was falling behind, he didn't lose track of them.
But it wasn't easy. His breath reached its limit.
Before him, unfamiliar scenery appeared. Large rocks stacked high formed a cliff and mountain.
Two horses stood in front of it. From where he could see the horses, Helmut took a deep breath.
His chest ached painfully. His throat felt scorched.
'Luke Yeager.'
Helmut felt an overwhelming urge to punch someone for the first time in his life.
A large hole was visible between the stacked rocks, likely leading inside the mountain.
Without hesitation, he moved towards the entrance.
He was about to face the strongest person he had encountered since entering the human world. Lutus Cicero. The man was Darien's enemy.
'Take him down and save Darien's descendant. That should be sufficient as a repayment.'
There was no guarantee of victory. To assume he could win against the Palma Commander would be pure arrogance.
He couldn't afford to hold back. He wasn't Luke Yeager. He would fight with all his might, revealing his full power if necessary.
With Darien's swordsmanship, honed to the bone and embedded in his body through years of relentless practice.
As he approached the entrance to the cliffs, a primal instinct alerted him.
Below.
Immediately reacting, Helmut launched himself into the air.
Boom! Sand erupted, striking him all over. Had he not shielded himself with Vis, the impact might have bruised him.
From below, the massive pincers of a red scorpion slashed at the spot Helmut had just vacated.
Whoosh! The force behind the pincers was enough to cleave a human into pieces on contact.
Screech!
The giant scorpion, having missed its target, turned its gaze towards Helmut. Its red eyes glowed ominously, filled with malevolent intent. A potent magic aura emanated from it.
This was the most formidable creature he had encountered since arriving in the outside world. While not on par with beings like Elagan or Naho from the Pareathe Forest, its familiarity with using the environment to its advantage was evident.
'Well hidden in the sand.'
By suppressing its magical presence, the creature could remain undetected in Basor. If it could reduce its presence to near dormancy, detection would be challenging.
However, something was off.
'An alien energy from its forehead?'
Helmut noticed a white orb embedded in the scorpion's forehead, exuding a peculiar energy. He thought he recognized the nature of this energy, but why?
His mind quickly followed a trail of logic, arriving at a conclusion. Helmut realized the creature's forehead harbored an external influence.
"Oh dear, my little pet seems to have taken quite an interest in you."
A low voice sounded. Helmut turned to see a man approaching from the right side of the red scorpion. The man's white garments stood out starkly.
'That attire is... yes.'
The Temple. Helmut had consciously avoided anything related to the word "temple" since leaving the Pareathe Forest.
The man emitted a subtle aura. It reminded Helmut of the purification power that had once brought him to the brink of death, the same power he had felt from the sacred barrier.
He could never forget that sensation. A chilling feeling ran down his spine. Helmut recognized the man's true nature.
'A priest.'
Not just any priest. The holy power emanating from him, though barely revealed, was enough to oppress the budding darkness within Helmut.
His hair was a soft shade of brown, matching his eyes. The priest looked almost youthful, bearing the ideal image of a clergyman, yet his eyes carried a cold and cruel gleam.
Despite his youthful appearance, the power within him was profound. He was a formidable figure capable of concealing his own power.
"My, my. You've come to a place you shouldn't have."
The priest scanned Helmut from head to toe with a piercing gaze.
"You wield Vis, disguise yourself with magic, and... I sense a darkness within you. What are you?"
"Beat me, and I might tell you."
Helmut responded curtly. If a fight was inevitable, then so be it.
The light from his sword blade reflected coldly.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Just a fortnight prior.
"It's been a long time since I've been to Basor."
High Priest Dolos muttered as he stepped on the sand. The nostalgia was overwhelming.
The scorching sun that felt like it was baking every inch of his body, followed by the bone-chilling cold of the night, in a land where not a single blade of grass grew.
'Without a curse, how could it be like this?'
The Temple once believed Basor to be a land even the gods had forsaken. Though now, unbelievably, it had become prosperous and powerful.
'All in the will of Lumen. They should eagerly welcome the Temple into their midst.'
Dolos clicked his tongue in displeasure. The people of Basor, having fought desert monsters to grow strong, were inherently solitary and proud.
The Temple of Lumen had longed to extend its branches into Basor, but the Basorians staunchly refused.
They wouldn't even permit the construction of a temple, citing the Temple's failure to help defeat the Red Scorpion as their reason. The Basorians were fiercely resistant.
The Temple of Lumen had been waiting for a chance to infiltrate Basor.
And then, 20 years ago, that opportunity arrived. A chance too good to refuse.
Dolos's thoughts drifted.
'Darien Diphereth.'
The man known as the Sword Saint. His divine-like influence within a nation was a thorn in the side of the Temple.
Humans should remain within their human confines. Thus, the devotion of Basor's populace towards the Sword Saint was dangerous, verging on religious fervor.
Eliminating him would be ideal, but not directly by the hands of a priest. The betrayers within Basor also desired his removal.
The plan was executed quietly.
Three High Priests were deployed. Dolos eagerly volunteered for the mission, seeing it as a perfect opportunity to test his research.
Trapping the Sword Saint and sending him into the Demonic Beast Forest was straightforward.
Killing him would have been preferable, but a priest's hands must not be stained with blood. That was the wish of Basor's traitors.
However, the outcome was still pending. Basor's king remained alive. As long as he lived, he would never allow the Temple of Lumen to set foot in Basor's royal city.
But the history of the gods is longer than that of humans. The Temple of Lumen looks further ahead.
Eventually, the king would die, and if his successor was the First Prince, all would be well. Establishing a temple in Basor was not a matter of urgency.
And now, a descendant of the Sword Saint.