Turning-Chapter 854

And yet, Hosanra had sensed Yuder first from his blind spot—and then used Kishiar’s aura to hurl Yuder away, precisely intercepting him.

It was like a move in a strategy game, where shifting one piece causes your enemies to collide with each other.

Damn it.

Hosanra likely wasn’t even experienced in combat—it had to be pure luck. But that luck resulted in Yuder experiencing a full-on clash with Kishiar’s aura—a once-in-a-lifetime event.

The overwhelming power made it impossible to think clearly, but from experience, Yuder knew the next impact would come when he hit the ground. His defense had shattered the moment he took Kishiar’s strike head-on without proper reinforcement—so preparing his body to absorb the fall with instinctive training was the best he could do. He clenched his teeth and braced himself.

But the painful crash he’d expected never came.

His body suddenly slowed in midair, as if something invisible had caught him. Just before he could hit the ground, a man darted in and grabbed him midfall. They rolled across the ground as one.

“Guh, kuh...!”

His whole body scraped against the sleet-drenched earth. The burning pain made him feel like he might pass out.

His vision flickered, but Yuder grit his teeth, forcing himself to lift his head. The man holding him, arms wrapped protectively around the back of his head—

Of course. It was Kishiar.

One side of his face was covered in blood from scraping along the ground, his skin deathly pale, eyes closed like a corpse. Yuder’s heart dropped in panic.

He scrambled out of Kishiar’s arms and tried to rise.

“Comman—”

He tried to lift his arm—but his body wouldn’t move properly. Lowering his gaze, Yuder finally noticed: his sword was gone, and both of his arms felt broken, limp and unresponsive.

Of course. That aura wasn’t just any aura. It was from the one who had left a sword scar on par with the legendary founding emperor—the greatest Swordmaster in a thousand years. Not even in his past life had he faced such force.

He’d tried to block it, without even proper defense, with just his sword—it was a miracle he was still alive.

His sword, incredibly durable, must have absorbed the worst of it—otherwise he’d have been reduced to pulp.

“...Commander...”

Panting and struggling to speak, Yuder gasped out. In response, Kishiar slowly opened his eyes. As he did, a stream of bright red blood ran from his nose.

Internal wounds were worse than external ones. And nosebleeds were often the first sign.

Yuder’s golden eyes, flickering from exhaustion, darted through Kishiar’s body, trying to assess the damage. His vision was too blurry for a full diagnosis, but instinct told him—Kishiar was in bad shape.

“—Yuder.”

Just as he was staring silently at Kishiar’s injured core, a small voice reached his ears. It was so faint, barely louder than the shattering hail, but to Yuder, it sounded louder than thunder.

Their eyes met—red into gold—and Kishiar asked,

“...Are you alright? Your condition?”

That’s the first thing he asks? In this state?

Yuder’s mind boiled red.

Did he think Yuder looked like he couldn’t survive one aura strike? Why the hell hadn’t he prioritized his own body and stayed back?

Who the hell is Yuder Aile that he’d do this?!

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

The desire to scream flared ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) inside him. His lips trembled, but no words came.

Because the one person who could most clearly understand why Kishiar had come to save him—

Was Yuder Aile himself.

And that knowledge was maddening.

Unable to answer, breath ragged, Yuder remained frozen. Kishiar’s lips twitched faintly as if to smile—then lowered again. He raised a hand and pointed past Yuder’s shoulder.

“...I thought this might happen, so I prepared. But once an aura is fired... I couldn’t cancel it completely. Anyway...”

“Don’t speak.”

“...Look behind you.”

Yuder forced himself to turn. And there, lying on the ground with one arm torn off, was Hosanra. Still alive, but barely. The hailstorm swirling around him had lost much of its force.

Beyond him, Cavalry members were advancing, forcing their way through the weakened storm.

One arm gone. That could mean only one thing.

Kishiar, after launching the first aura in sync with Yuder, had realized the attack had failed—and launched a second strike. Then, even in his condition, he’d used his ability to catch Yuder and save him.

Now, here they were.

Yuder felt lightheaded.

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“...That’s as far as my hand could reach. I couldn’t finish it cleanly in the end... so the true finish... I’ll have to leave that to you.”

“......”

“Can you do it?”

Yuder lowered his gaze. His mangled arms came into view. Luckily, his tattered uniform sleeves covered most of the damage, hiding it from sight.

And thanks to the magic-infused gloves, his wrists and fingers were still intact. He slowly flexed them—pain arced up his spine like ice, but he could still grip a sword.

That was enough.

If his fingers worked, he could wield his sword.

He had endured worse before. He had always stood back up and pressed forward to achieve his goals.

Why would now be any different?

Yuder didn’t speak. He extended his hand. A moment later, his sword flew to him from somewhere. It was covered in dirt, but the blade remained intact. He gripped the familiar hilt.

But before he stood, there was one thing he had to say to Kishiar.

Yuder looked at him—hot and cold all at once—and said:

“Stay right here until I return. If you use your power again... even if you’re the Commander, I won’t forgive you.”

Kishiar’s eyes widened slightly.

After a pause, he closed his mouth, furrowed his brow softly, and exhaled.

A strange smile touched his lips—tinged with sadness, affection, and, oddly enough, joy—as he nodded slowly.