The extra Is too Strong – Chapter 117

The Extra is too strong

Mord thought as he looked at Tepa.

“This must be the Ordaas bloodline.”

Naturally, he knew what kind of people the Ordaas were.

Even in Sedocma, if not as much as the Bernas Grand Duchy, they were fairly significant.

And he had consistently received information about them from Ilden, Leon, and Cael.

The vivid experiences of those who had encountered them firsthand were precious information.

But now that he faced them directly, it still felt bizarre.

“It was bound to happen someday.”

It felt like something long expected had finally arrived.

“I’m not keen on it, but there’s no choice.”

Frankly, Mord was not inclined to enter this fight.

And this feeling was a first since his rebirth.

Until now, there had always been a clear purpose in his battles.

There had been a clear motivation to smash his opponents.

But this fight was different.

This was war.

It was beyond any personal stance, a whirlwind of great current pulling him along.

If he were someone who bore a strong sense of belonging and pride as a member of Bernas, maybe he would be different, but Mord was not that kind of person.

That made it difficult for him to muster much enthusiasm for the fight.

However, his enemy, Tepa Ordaas, had entirely different thoughts.

He attacked, ablaze with murderous intent.

Shhhhhhhh!

A sword made of white light struck down.

It was a sword comprised purely of power. If telekinesis took the form of a sword, this would be it.

Its might was terrifying.

Dozens of light swords capable of piercing through rock rained down on Mord like a storm.

“There’s no choice.”

Mord hardened his expression.

He didn’t feel inclined, but nonetheless, he had to fight.

It was the duty of a soldier, or rather a warrior.

To shirk one’s duty and let comrades bleed in his place was out of the question.

Thwack-Thwack-Thwack-Boom!

With large motions, Mord swung his fists three times.

A gale whirled, deflecting the swords of light completely, and with each swing, Mord who had advanced reached Tepa.

“What the—?”

A startled Tepa responded by the book.

Instead of attacks designed to crush enemies from a distance, he produced a heavy blow meant to deal with an up-close enemy.

Boom!

A huge hand made of fire appeared and swung down at Mord.

But it was futile.

Mord easily blocked the strike and swung his fist.

Bang!

With the sound of an explosion, Tepa was sent flying.

“Cough…!”

Tepa, who had landed and was staggered, spat out blood.

Only one blow had been blocked, but the shock had rattled his insides and permeated his bones.

‘What is this monster? He wasn’t on the list… Is he a high-level warrior born in an unknown place?’

There was a difference in dimension.

Realizing this, Tepa looked at Mord with trepidation.

Mord approached indifferently, his steps resonating fearfully in Tepa’s eyes as though he was the Grim Reaper.

“Damn it!”

Tepa clenched his teeth.

He couldn’t win in a head-on fight. But he couldn’t run away either.

‘I must find a way to hamstring him.’

Tepa glanced around.

The Kingdom of Berte’s army had withdrawn to a safe distance, forming a perimeter because they knew how far-reaching the aftershocks of a fight between those with divine bloodlines could be.

Tepa immediately leapt towards them, not to escape but to use the ordinary soldiers as a shield to constrain Mord’s movements.

However, before he could get a few meters, something latched onto him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Mord had astonishingly caught up to him and grabbed him.

Crash!

And slammed him to the ground.

“Cough!”

Tepa, planted into the ground, turned while releasing his ability.

Woosh!

A tempest of flames burst forth in all directions.

The attack, a sudden burst of power, was effective. Even Mord was forced to release his grip on Tepa and retreat.

“Damn it. There seems to be no way to win.”

Quickly retreating, Tepa felt despair.

If this monster defeated him and turned its fists on his allies, it would be the end. He had tried to hinder him as much as he could, but now he knew it was impossible.

Fwoosh!

Tepa gathered both his hands, and there a greatsword made entirely of flames formed.

– Activation of unique ability! Sword of Retributive Flame!

Tepa possessed five abilities, and among them, this flamesword was his unique ability.

“This isn’t going to be easy.”

Mord remarked to the glaring Tepa.

“It’s already over.”

“What?”

In the moment of Tepa’s confusion.

Zap.

Something inside him felt like it snapped.

“…!”

Tepa couldn’t even scream as he fell to his knees.

From the moment Mord had caught him from behind, the outcome had been decided.

Mord had infiltrated his aura inside Tepa’s body, inflicting a crippling wound that rendered him incapable of fighting.

“Surrender.”

“Ha ha ha…”

Though spewing blood from his mouth, Tepa still laughed in response to Mord’s words.

“Don’t make me laugh, Berte’s muscle-brained pig. Looks like even your brain is made of muscle to spout such nonsense.”

While trembling, Tepa struggled to his feet. Mord forcibly suppressed a sigh.

He knew that proposing a surrender was futile.

Such was the relationship between Bernas and Ordaas.

And the Imperial Special Forces were composed only of those who had undergone brainwashing akin to intense psychological indoctrination. So there was no way words would get through to them.

Even then, Mord didn’t want to kill without offering surrender. That was all there was to it.

“So be it. Let’s make it easy on you then.”

As Mord started moving, Tepa looked up at the sky and shouted.

“Decal—!”

In an instant, Tepa drew all eyes on the battlefield to himself, mustering his strength to yell out.

“Run!”

And with that, Tepa’s last word was passed.

* * *

Less than three minutes into the battle, another of the Ordaas bloodline was dead.

Mord, who had defeated Tepa without a scratch, looked at the corpse and thought.

‘For one with such willpower to die as a mere expendable on the battlefield?’

Tepa Ordaas.

Not even mentioned in Sedocma, nor was any other Ordaas present here.

Yet, he was genuinely a man of remarkable willpower, a warrior who burned his will even in the face of certain death.

Such a person was to die without leaving a name in history, and by his hand.

Swallowing a sigh, Mord glanced around.

The brief lull brought by Tepa’s shout had broken, and fierce combat resumed.

And the battle was one-sided.

Decal and Mil, two of the Ordaas bloodline, fought well.

Yurik and Leon were locked in a stalemate, unable to clinch a decisive upper hand.

But the rest were different.

Eriu was destroying the enemy with overwhelming violence.

Cael, too, reduced enemy numbers with ease.

Parwel was supporting Yurik’s troops in place of the other two.

With the support of a skilled magician, Yurik’s troops easily pushed back the special forces.

‘Leon doesn’t need worry.’

Mord assessed the battle between Leon and Mil and came to that conclusion.

Leon had yet to display his full strength. He had made a point before deployment that he would not reveal his entire power in front of many eyes.

Even so, Leon was overwhelmingly pushing Mil. Without a hint of carelessness, the outcome would be decided shortly.

‘Time to handle the rest.’

Mord decided and moved to aid in the disposal of the remaining Imperial Special Forces.

Boom!

A deafening explosion surpassed all other noises.

“Cough…!”

Yurik was sent flying into a rock wall.

‘Hm?’

Mord was surprised.

‘That commander, his magic power has increased significantly.’

The enemy, Decal Ordaas, whom Yurik was fighting, was progressively getting stronger. He had surpassed Yurik completely!

‘Second stage of divine blood activation?’

But Mord quickly realized his assumption was incorrect.

Decal Ordaas maintained the same form he had when he first unleashed his divine bloodline. Only his magic power had substantially increased.

“…Fools.”

Decal’s eyes were moist.

“I told you not to make me stronger.”

Decal had five abilities and a rather unique one called ‘Agent of Divine Retribution’.

In the same battlefield, each time someone considers him an ally dies, a blessing is bestowed upon him.

The more powerful the fallen ally, the stronger the blessing becomes, and it doesn’t end just once; it keeps accumulating.

Consequently, the more allies die, the stronger Decal becomes.

With each fallen squad member, Decal’s power had increased slightly, and when Tepa of the Ordaas divine bloodline had perished, his power surged explosively.

By just whipping his Thunder Whip three times, he had broken through Yurik’s defenses and sent him flying!

“Ugh…”

Yurik groaned.

Initially, he thought he could defeat this enemy.

But as time passed, the opponent became tougher, and now he was completely dominating Yurik.

‘Damn it.’

Yurik shook with a sense of impotence.

It had been three years since he arrived in the North, brimming with ambition.

Until six months ago, Yurik didn’t attract much attention.

Although as a scion of Bernas, everyone coveted him, his capacity as a warrior wasn’t particularly outstanding.

But six months ago, a special opportunity made his skills surge, and he started to stand out.

Since then, Yurik gained confidence.

He had become stronger. And he continued to grow stronger.

If things continued this way, he could return to the Grand Castle as a top-class warrior, a possibility brimming with ambition.

Eager for the opportunity to fight the Ordaas bloodline, Yurik was thrilled when the chance arose.

Defeating Decal Ordaas, the commander of the special forces, would be a great honor!

But now, Yurik trembled with a sense of defeat and powerlessness for the first time in a while.

‘Should I use it?’

Yurik still had an ace up his sleeve, unused.

If he used it, he could certainly defeat Decal Ordaas.

But there were too many watching eyes.

His secret weapon was something that would not be viewed favorably by others.

‘No, not now. How could I have come this far! I’d rather die than give it all up!’

While Yurik hesitated, Decal launched an attack.

In the air, countless fiery arrows formed, raining down upon Yurik.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Yurik maneuvered to the side, dodging the continuous explosive flames.

But anticipating this, a whip of lightning struck him down.

“…!”

Yurik couldn’t even scream.

He had become stronger since before.

In that interim, several more special forces members had died, though Yurik had no way to know it.

Beaten by the Thunder Whip, Yurik rolled across the ground.

“I can’t… die like this, no …”

His transformation subsided, and his hair returned to its original dark color. His consciousness had severed.

As Decal prepared to fire a fiery arrow to cut Yurik’s life short, there was a sudden interruption.

Boom!

Someone blocked his path.

“From now on, I’ll be your opponent.”

Mord, who crushed the fiery arrows with his fist, glared at Decal and spoke.



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