The spell replaced the fuse, and twisted mana took the place of gunpowder.
Just as Yeomyeong's sword aimed at the horse-headed figure, the corpses covering the ground began to swell.

A flower bloomed.

A flower of blood spread its petals, scattering bone and flesh as pollen.

‘It's over.’

Watching the world turn red, the horse-headed Shepherd was certain of victory. He quickly chanted another spell, enveloping himself in a new shield.

Immediately, the transparent barrier was stained red.

The sound of bone fragments clinking against the blood-soaked barrier filled the air. The horse-head figure gathered more mana to reinforce his shield.
The explosion continued for a long time, perhaps due to the sheer number of corpses.
Only after the shield had become dangerously thin did the explosion finally come to an end.

The final note of the explosion was the sound of trucks flipping over and crashing down.
Boom!
Feeling the ground tremble, the horse-head figure dispelled his shield. But the next moment, his face contorted in disbelief.

“…How?”

Yeomyeong was still alive.
Though his combat suit had been reduced to rags and his body was covered in wounds beneath it,
He was alive, holding his sword and walking toward the horse-head figure.

Step by step.

Sticky blood trailed from his feet, stretching into long strings. With every step, his wounds visibly healed.
The blood that had been flowing down his forehead stopped. The hole in his thigh closed, and the gaping wound in his shoulder was restored.

An overwhelming regenerative power.
It was the very strength the Shepherds had sought, giving up their humanity in the process.

‘What is this guy…? No, whatever he is, I have to kill him here and now.’

The horse-headed Shepherd, with a mix of envy and reverence, raised his hand.
At his fingertips, twisted mana condensed, glowing red.

“O, Immortal King—! Lend me your hand!”
With the spell complete, red beams shot out from his hand.
As the sky turned crimson, Yeomyeong, having finished healing his legs, leaped into the air.

The mana in his leap was overwhelming. Mana surged from his feet to his sword, forming a long wave.

Crackle!
The sword descended, slicing through the beams. A battle of force against force.
The horse-head figure desperately gathered more mana, pouring it into the beams.

“Hieee-ung!”
Just as the bright beam managed to push the sword back,
Yeomyeong let go of his sword. The now powerless beam shot high into the sky, and Yeomyeong threw something from his waist.

‘A grenade?’
Seeing the grenade falling toward him, the horse-head figure was at a loss for words. As a non-superhuman, he had no way to avoid the attack.

BOOM!!
Before he could even deploy a shield, the explosion hurled both Yeomyeong and the horse-head figure backward. The horse-head figure’s body flew through the air, landing far behind.

“Cough, urgh, cough!”
Even as he rolled on the ground, the horse-head figure muttered his next incantation.
Though the shrapnel embedded in his chest and thigh made concentration difficult, he managed to finish the protective spell in time.

Crack!
Yeomyeong’s sword struck the newly formed shield. Despite having been hit by the same grenade, Yeomyeong had already recovered his sword and dashed toward the horse-head figure.

“What… are you?”

The horse-head figure stared at Yeomyeong from behind the barrier, asking in disbelief. Despite the fierce battle, Yeomyeong showed no signs of exhaustion.
Instead, his fierce eyes only seemed to grow sharper as he poured more power into his sword. Mana sparks flew as the sword clashed with the shield.

Only then did the horse-head figure realize the source of this monstrous vitality.
The dense concentration of mana, far more potent than even his own, which he had gained by forsaking his humanity.

‘How is this possible?’

Even if he had managed to sever the dragon’s rib, he hadn’t expected Yeomyeong to possess such power.
Those above had also made a similar miscalculation. They had assumed that Yeomyeong had survived the fight with the dragon thanks to the Saintess’s divine blessings and the dragon’s whims.

It was a logical conclusion. Who could ever believe that a rookie mercenary would possess such strength?
A rookie mercenary… the Saintess… What if they had been working together from the start?

As this realization flashed through the horse-head figure’s mind, his shield shattered.
Crack! Yeomyeong’s blood-stained sword struck down on his shoulder.

Slash!
His right arm was severed, and blood sprayed everywhere. The horse-head figure staggered back, screaming, but Yeomyeong didn’t stop.
He raised his sword, preparing to sever the horse-head figure’s neck in one swift strike. Death’s shadow loomed over the horse-head figure’s throat.

But in the next moment, Yeomyeong’s sword did not meet his neck.

‘Something’s wrong.’

The Saintess, who had been firing bullets at the strange figures on motorcycles, turned her gaze toward the plains.
An inexplicable sense of unease clawed at her throat.

‘Should I use precognition? No, if I use it twice in a row, I’ll drain my mana...’

Just as she bit her lip unconsciously,
A gust of wind blew in from beyond the plains. A gust so strong that her white hair fluttered in the air.

Her expression stiffened.

In the wake of the wind, a repulsive scent of blood lingered.

“…No way.”

The Saintess swallowed hard, looking in the direction the wind had come from. Among the scent of blood, she sensed a twisted, unfamiliar mana.
It was a kind of mana she had never experienced before, an abominable and corrupt energy.

She couldn’t understand what could have created such mana. Was it the mana of a necromancer, like those told in stories?

Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t a good sign for Yeomyeong, who had rushed in alone.

“Commander! I’m going ahead!”

The Saintess shouted toward Commander Kwon, who was still engaged in combat with the motorcycle riders.
At the same moment, one of the riders pointed a handgun at her, but Commander Kwon’s machine gun tore the attacker to shreds.

“Go ahead! Kim Mansu! Take the ones without rifles and follow the Saintess!”

The Saintess nodded toward the commander, then picked up a fallen motorcycle.
She started the blood-stained bike. As the engine roared violently, she set off in the direction Yeomyeong had gone.

VROOOM!
As the other mercenaries scrambled to find a working bike to follow her, she sped across the plains. Her well-practiced riding skills were on full display.
Luckily, Yeomyeong wasn’t far.

After a short ride, the overturned trucks and blood-soaked ground came into view on the horizon.
Standing on that battlefield were… only two figures.

Yeomyeong, drenched in blood, and a strange magician wearing a horse-head mask.
Thankfully, Yeomyeong appeared to have the upper hand. Through her keen vision hidden beneath the eyepatch, she could see Yeomyeong pressing down on the shield.

But for some reason, the feeling of unease didn’t go away. In fact, it only grew stronger.

‘Why?’

The answer to her question was found above.
A strange fluctuation of mana.

As the Saintess tilted her head upward, what she saw defied belief.
“…What is that?”

Someone was walking through the sky.
Wearing black winter clothing, their golden hair fluttered… Was it a girl? A boy? Their androgynous appearance made it impossible to tell.

The Saintess narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out how this person was walking through the air.
Flying through the air was possible through magic, but the speed was the issue.

With each leisurely step they took, their body moved forward at an incredible pace.
Not quite as fast as the Divine Race’s Sprint that the Holy Sword boasted of, but still too fast to chase on a motorcycle.

It wasn’t until the figure passed her by that the Saintess realized the source of her anxiety.

The familiar dwarf slung over their shoulder, the unfamiliar mana emanating from the figure, and… the direction they were headed.

‘Yeomyeong, no.’

The Saintess leaned forward, reducing air resistance, and yanked the handlebars as far as they would go.
VROOOOOM!! The bike’s engine roared in protest as the wheels spun faster, kicking up dirt.

Just as Yeomyeong was about to sever the horse-head figure’s neck, something flew toward the back of his head.
There was no warning, no sign.

Sensing the thick killing intent, Yeomyeong immediately turned his sword to deflect the attack.
Clang!
Was it magic? Martial arts? Whatever it was, it made his sword hum as he blocked the mana-infused attack.

Yeomyeong quickly turned to face his new opponent.

There, high above the ground, someone in a black winter coat was hovering, their palm aimed directly at him.

“Oh, you blocked it? Not bad instincts.”

The voice was clear, neither male nor female. But Yeomyeong didn’t care about the voice.
What drew his frown was the familiar dwarf slumped on the stranger’s left shoulder.

Darulma Dun. The dwarf who should have been with the mercenary trucks — why was he there?

‘Either the mercenaries lost, or Darulma was kidnapped… Neither is a good situation.’

Yeomyeong took a deep breath, assessing his condition.

‘I can still fight.’

Though the successive battles had left him fatigued, the mana he had absorbed from the World Tree’s elixir continued to sustain him.

While Yeomyeong readied himself for combat, the figure in the sky gracefully descended.
“You seem to have learned some proper martial arts for someone from this world…”

A look of dissatisfaction crossed their androgynous face.

“But it's a shame. I don’t have time for this right now.”

As soon as they finished speaking, their right hand moved. The same attack that had flown toward Yeomyeong’s head moments ago.

As their mana-infused hand struck the air, a powerful wave of mana sliced through the atmosphere, heading toward Yeomyeong.

‘…A palm strike?’

It was a technique Yeomyeong knew well. Somehow, it resembled the swordsmanship he had learned in the bunker.

Clang!
This time, instead of blocking with his sword, he countered with his own blast of mana. The two forces collided midair, dissipating each other.

Yeomyeong took it all in. A new martial art, something to challenge his talent.

He infused more mana into his sword, waiting for the next attack.

But the battle he had anticipated didn’t come. Instead, a baffled voice pierced his ears.

“Pa Yang Gyeol?”
“...”
“There’s someone in this world who can use Pa Yang Gyeol??”

The one who had recognized the technique and the one revealed by it stood frozen, their gazes locked in midair.