The Indomitable Martial King

Chapter 172

The entire mansion was in an uproar. Kapir, who was in the middle of a meal, frowned.

“What is all this commotion?”

Kapir closed his eyes slightly and focused his mind. It had not been long since he awakened his aura, so he had not yet reached the stage where he could perceive everything around him as if he could see it with his eyes. However, he could roughly sense that numerous people were engaged in combat on the first floor of the mansion.

“Is it a thief?”

Blay also seemed to lose his appetite and put down his fork. At that moment, the door opened, and Diphl entered. He was sweating and bowed his head apologetically.

“I deeply apologize. We have an esteemed guest, but such an incident…”

“What exactly is going on?”

“Well, one of the trolls we were keeping has escaped and is causing havoc…”

The existence of Ivory Tusk could not be revealed to outsiders, so Diphl made up a lie to cover up the situation.

“It’s more ferocious than we thought, so the disturbance is dragging on. Of course, our warriors are continuously fighting, so it will be subdued soon, but the damage is quite substantial…”

Seeing Diphl subtly express their struggle, Kapir stood up from his seat.

“Oh dear, is there something we can do to help?”

“If Sir Kapir, an aura user, steps in, a troll would be subdued in no time. But how can we ask such a favor from our honored guest…”

Priest Blay and Mage Marund also stood up. Blay let out a hearty laugh.

“Shouldn’t we at least earn our meal? Ha ha ha.”

Diphl, smiling inwardly with satisfaction, bowed his head.

“It is indeed heavenly aid that such renowned individuals are here. Thank you!”

* * *

The mansion’s first-floor hallway leading to the basement was now a scene of utter chaos.

“Haap!”

Attila soared over the heads of the approaching warriors. His jumping power was truly astounding. Without reducing his falling speed at all, his sharp blue claws crushed the head of the warrior at the front.

“Aaaargh!”

With a scream, blood and brain matter splattered everywhere. The warriors shuddered and shouted.

“Damn it!”

“Curse this monster!”

Cursing, the warriors raised their spears and surrounded Attila. A dozen spear tips simultaneously aimed at Attila.

“Hmph!”

With a snort, Attila bent his body and evaded all the attacks. Then, standing on his hands with his palms on the floor, he swung his legs like a windmill.

Whoosh!

With the force of the wind, the spear shafts flew away. Attila’s attack continued. He flipped through the air and kicked the chest of the warrior on the left with a dropkick, then immediately placed one hand on the floor, twisted his waist, and struck the opposite side.

Thud! Thud!

In front of his elegant, dance-like attacks, the warriors fell, spraying blood. Judging by their crushed chests and heads, they were certainly dead.

Seeing the gruesome fate of their fallen comrades, the warriors erupted in anger.

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“You, cruel bastard!”

“He really is a monster!”

Cold common language flowed from Attila’s mouth.

“How laughable. You speak of cruelty?”

Unlike the soldiers at the harbor, these warriors were part of the Alchemist Guild, and Attila had no intention of showing them mercy.

They were paid with gold squeezed from the troll’s blood.

“In that case, you must also be prepared to pay the price for that bloodstained money!”

Attila’s form darted swiftly between the warriors. He ran towards those thrusting spears at him, beating a drum.

Boom boom boom!

A peculiar rhythm flowed through his clenched teeth.

“Exposed veins pulsate, burdened by the weight, they totter!”

Several nearby warriors suddenly raised their hands and threw their weapons. An invisible, strange force was controlling their bodies against their will.

“Urk!”

“Ugh!”

“What is this sorcery?”

Attila’s kicks rained down on the bewildered warriors. He continuously spun and kicked, striking the disarmed warriors. Each kick that landed tore flesh and broke bones as if struck by a mace, sending a spray of blood in all directions.

“Aaaaargh!”

With agonized screams, the hallway walls were painted crimson with human blood. The surviving warriors, terrified by the bloodbath, began to turn and flee.

“How are we supposed to fight that kind of monster!”

“This is madness!”

Attila flicked his fingers repeatedly toward the backs of the fleeing warriors.

Snap! Snap! Snap! Snap!

Each flick of his fingers sent blades of wind slicing into the warriors’ backs. The warriors fell, unable to even begin their escape, as gaping wounds split open on their bodies.

It was an overwhelming sight. More than forty trained warriors died without leaving a single scratch on Attila.

Amid the dense pool of blood, Attila turned his head. Feeling the wind, he quickly discerned the location of a hidden door leading underground. He opened the door with a spell and descended the stairs that came into view.

Attila cautiously followed the stairs down. At the end of the stairs, a vast space awaited him. Two alchemists, engrossed in their work, looked up at Attila in surprise.

“What is this?”

“A, a troll?”

The basement was so deeply located that they were oblivious to the chaos happening above. As they stared at Attila with dumbfounded expressions, they suddenly screamed.

“Ahhh!”

“Ivory Tusk!”

Attila’s gaze shifted around the stone chamber. Among the bizarre alchemical apparatuses, he noticed a row of large iron cages. Inside them were his kin, bound in the most miserable conditions.

“Aah…”

A growl of anger escaped Attila. The alchemists, sensing the danger, started to back away stealthily.

“No chance!”

With a gust of wind, Attila swiftly blocked their path. His blue eyes, blazing with fury and hatred, glared down at the alchemists.

“Ahhh…”

A large blue hand gripped their heads, one in each hand. The troll’s immense strength began to crush their skulls. The alchemists writhed in excruciating pain, moaning in agony.

“S-spare us…”

Lifting them up, Attila ground his teeth.

“You deserve a painful death!”

Crunch!

Their heads shattered like tofu, brains spilling out. Blood flowed down his blue fingers.

After discarding the bodies, Attila approached the iron cages. He had to rescue his people from this hell quickly.

It was then.

“What is this? That’s no ordinary troll.”

A deep voice echoed, accompanied by a powerful presence that pierced Attila like needles. Attila turned his head, tense.

‘Who is it? Someone with such strong energy?’

Three humans stood at the entrance of the basement, staring at him.

* * *

Sir Kapir stared at the troll in front of him with a tense expression.

He had already witnessed the carnage while descending here. It was not something a mere troll could accomplish. He thought it might have grown larger, but upon closer inspection, that wasn’t the case either.

“That thing… isn’t it the Ivory Tusk?”

“Huh? You mean that superstition among the monster hunters?”

At Kapir’s words, Marund and Blay also frowned as they looked at Attila.

Diphl had greatly underestimated them. Though they were now settled and holding key positions, in their youth, they had roamed various parts of the continent, honing their skills and seeking adventures. They were not inexperienced enough to have never heard of the Ivory Tusk.

“So, that thing really exists?”

Kapir clicked his tongue. Seeing that legendary being standing right in front of them, he could now guess why Diphl had gone out of his way to invite them.

Marund cursed as he grimaced.

“Hmm, I wondered why he treated us so well. Diphl, that sly bastard.”

Blay gave a bitter smile.

“They say there’s no such thing as a free lunch. It seems they were right.”

Marund looked at Kapir and asked.

“So, what will you do?”

“It’s quite infuriating. I should have a word with him. If the three of us exert our strength, the cost would be quite substantial for just one meal.”

Blay shook his head.

“But we can’t just ignore it, can we?”

Though they felt used, they couldn’t turn a blind eye to the numerous lives lost. Kapir drew a large broadsword from his waist. Marund and Blay also prepared their magic and prayers respectively.

Attila, who had been watching them with a tense face, suddenly spoke up.

“They are strong ones.”

“Huh? The troll speaks too?”

Kapir muttered in surprise.

Unlike orcs, elves, and dwarves who lived as human slaves, trolls were merely seen as ingredients for healing potions. Since they rarely encountered them, most humans considered trolls to be low-grade monsters without intelligence, like ogres or gnolls.

“What an interesting creature.”

Kapir clicked his tongue and slowly moved forward. The broadsword hanging from his waist emitted a red glow along its blade. It was the symbol of an Aura User, the Blade Aura.

“Let’s finish this quickly and go give that Diphl a piece of our minds!”

With a nonchalant expression, Kapir lunged forward. Demonstrating the speed befitting an Aura User, he charged straight at Attila and swung his sword down.

“Die!”

In an instant, Attila twisted his body and dodged the attack. Kapir’s eyes widened in surprise. It was a simple strike, but it was a blow wielded by an Aura User. He had never expected a troll to evade such an attack.

“What?”

Attila ducked low and performed a sweeping kick that skimmed the floor. Startled by the kick aimed at his lower body, Sir Kapir leaped back in surprise. Twisting his body, Attila followed up with consecutive kicks.

“A mere troll dares to evade my sword?”

Kapir, now agitated, began to counterattack with proper swordsmanship. The strike aimed at Attila was on a completely different level than the earlier simple attack.

“I’ll slice you in half!”

Kapir’s blade aura surged towards Attila, dominating the space around him. It was an unavoidable trajectory, characteristic of an aura user’s attack. Kapir was certain that he would sever the troll’s limbs.

In that moment, Attila retrieved something from behind his back to block the blade aura.

Paang!

The blocked aura scattered, sending red ripples in all directions. Marund and Blay, who had been watching the situation, widened their eyes in astonishment.

“What?”

“What is that?”

The red blade aura had been intercepted by two short staffs crossed together.

Clearly, the short staffs were not enveloped in any aura or anything. They were simply crude sticks, looking like mere broken branches, yet they had successfully blocked the blade aura.

Attila flashed a faint smile.

“No one can harm Mother’s Grace, as vast as the ocean!”

These two short staffs were branches from the sacred tree, ‘Mother’s Grace,’ located in Attila’s homeland. After performing a ritual of forgiveness and breaking off part of the tree, Attila had imbued the branches with magical power through a thousand-day prayer. Despite their crude appearance, their power rivaled that of famous swords.

Attila started to sing while clashing the two short staffs together.

“My body grows tall, kicking the green juniper forests.”

The melody flowing within the rhythm of the clashing staffs turned into a spell that permeated his entire being. His body filled with the essence of nature.

With a shout, Attila launched a counterattack.

“Hyaaaah!”

The two short staffs whirled towards Kapir from both sides. As he swung his broadsword to defend, Kapir’s expression hardened.

‘Fast, too fast?’

The troll before him moved even faster than he did, despite being an aura user. It was an unbelievable physical ability. With strength surpassing even that of a giant troll and incredible speed, Attila’s staff techniques were so skillful that they relentlessly targeted Kapir’s vital points, making it difficult for him to even defend, let alone counterattack.

“Ugh!”

Grinding his teeth in humiliation, Kapir retreated. He needed to step back and somehow turn the situation around.

As he withdrew, Kapir scattered sword light in rapid succession. The blade aura stretched out like a whip, blocking Attila’s advancing attack.

Boom! Boom! Boom!