Warrior's Lonely Path

--- Jormungandr ---

I can't pinpoint exactly when it began, but I've been feeling...bored, for a long time.

It seems like the people of this world have become weaker over the centuries.

Back in the day, the average warrior was enough to stir excitement within me.

Those warriors of old fought tooth and nail to defend their lands, their struggles fueling their determination to grow stronger with each passing day.

It was a time when kingdoms and empires hadn't yet solidified, and numerous factions emerged and faded away in the blink of an eye. Only the surviving ones left their mark on history, although I couldn't care less about that.

I admired them for their resilience, for they possessed a mindset I couldn't relate to. Unlike them, I had no lofty goals or noble reasons to strive for strength.

All I desired was the thrill of a brutal, life-or-death battle.

The outcome of those battles didn't matter much to me, but with each swing of my weapon, I found a sense of fulfillment.

In those intense moments of combat, I felt truly alive.

Yet, amidst all those clashes, it had to happen.

I encountered an opponent far beyond my reach. It's more accurate to say she toyed with me effortlessly throughout our confrontation.

With just a single finger, she effortlessly dismantled both me and my axe.

It was the first time anyone had treated me with such disdain, yet I found myself devoid of anger or resentment.

Though it wasn't the honorable ending I sought as a warrior, I persisted in my efforts, grasping at any chance to fight back. However, the red haired woman remained unfazed by my struggles.

I struggled to look up, to get a good glance at the incredible warrior I'd been facing.

Her finger traced my face.

Within her red eyes, all I could feel...was a chilling indifference.

"...You're somewhat worth raising, little boy"

After she uttered those words, I slipped into unconsciousness.

Upon waking up, I felt like an entirely different individual.

My physical prowess had undergone a remarkable transformation, and I sensed the awakening of a newfound ability within me...

From that point onward, no warrior could withstand the might I wielded.

The extent of my power was such that I had to master its control, lest I inadvertently bring destruction upon everything I touched.

While some might revel in self-admiration, I harbored a deep sense of dissatisfaction.

What purpose does a warrior serve if not to engage in fights to the death?

I had resigned myself to my fate, prepared to meet my end, only to be unexpectedly saved and transformed in this kind of almighty thing. I despise this turn of events.

Why do I possess such overwhelming power when no one else can even come close to matching me? I'd rather have been weaker, able to relish the thrill of a challenge.

But those questions, I had no choice but to suppress.

Soon, I became acquainted with the organization into which I had been thrust.

The others who had also acquired powers seemed content, all fixated on this concept of immortality?

But I lacked the inclination to voice my dissatisfaction.

I've never been one to dwell on deep thoughts, anyway.

So, I resolved to indulge in what I do best: seeking worthy opponents to fight with.

However...

I failed.

I scoured through numerous nations, unintentionally erasing some along the way, all in pursuit of my objective, but it proved fruitless.

Thus, I reached a conclusion.

One day, I will meet my death without experiencing the thrill of a proper fight again.

That's why I refrained from taking action unless directed by a superior authority.

We were strictly prohibited from engaging in combat with each other, meaning that even in the presence of formidable individuals who also got powers, I was unable to truly challenge them.

At most, we could spar, but that wasn't what I wanted.

The mere thought of this restriction filled me with simmering resentment.

Such were my sentiments... until today.

--

I detested enemies who didn't confront me directly, as it went against the code of honor I held as a warrior.

However, it wasn't until she effortlessly brushed off the debris clinging to her clothes that I grasped her true intent.

She wasn't avoiding a showdown out of fear; rather, she simply didn't want to deal with me yet.

Most significantly, despite unleashing my power against her, as it's not something I can control, she didn't perish immediately!

I can sense it, a huge strength she's hiding behind that frail looking body.

She's someone who can match up against me!

I see her mouth opening to say something, but to be honest, I couldn't care less.

This feeling of excitement I didn't feel for so long... 

Finally...!

--- Hel ---

Authority?

The way she mentioned it, it seems she could discern the source of Jormungandr's power, labeling it as such.

However, she remained silent regarding my powers.

Could it be that I lack the 'Authority' possessed by Jormungandr?

...It would explain why, despite our strength, none of us could defeat him head-on in a confrontation.

He must have something we don't.

I've pondered over it, but perhaps my own arrogance clouded my judgment, leading me to believe that the power I concealed would surely alter the situation. However, reality may prove otherwise.

If Alexia also wields such Authority, then it implies that only Jormungandr, one who shares a similar level of power, could potentially pose a threat--

My thoughts abruptly ceased as I heard Jormungandr unleash a roar unlike any I had witnessed before.

He carelessly lunged at her, driven by what appeared to be sheer excitement?

Seriously, could you refrain from behaving like a wild animal? What could possibly be achieved by letting your guard down like that?

Nevertheless, her sword lay in ruins, granting us a clear advantage, at least for now.

Though Jormungandr's ability should have been absolute, her armor seemed to have restored itself.

'Maybe it's because what's imbued in that armor has a similar level to Jormungandr's power, reason why it doesn't work.'

If I don't handle it properly, the armor will simply regenerate, forcing us to repeat the process all over again.

While I have the ability to use my power repeatedly, it's not limitless.

As I observed Jormungandr's axe descending toward Alexia, I anticipated she would at least be troubled by it.

I gripped my Scythe, waiting for the right moment to act.

However, something peculiar occurred. A dark substance surged from her hand, intercepting the axe's trajectory and shielding her from harm.

Jormungandr didn't stop there, though. He continued to attack in a frenzy, each blow more powerful than the last. But every time his axe was about to make contact, the black substance would intervene and parry it.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

How was this possible?

But I couldn't afford to waste time wondering about it. I had to act fast.

Even if you have that power, it doesn't mean you can't be killed by someone who doesn't.

As Jormungandr's onslaught pressed relentlessly against her defenses, I seized the opportunity to channel my Magical Power into my scythe.

It crackled with dark energy, its blade elongating and pulsating with an ominous aura. With a swift motion, I swung my weapon in a wide arc, unleashing a long-distance attack imbued with the power of death.

I put my all into this attack, but to my surprise, she smirked.

In an instant, the black substance transformed into a swarm of menacing black swords, each one springing forth to intercept my attack. With a deadly grace, they clashed with my scythe, their razor-sharp edges slicing through the air with lethal precision.

I watched in astonishment as she...had blocked both of us.

---

Author's Note:

Yeah, we're not going to end this by Chapter 103, sadly :(