CHAPTER 72: RENARD VS IKO

The thunderous roar of the shells forced everyone to cover their ears.

In the sky, trails of smoke marked their passage before they exploded against the wall, shaking it violently.

And before a second volley could target them, the knights of Orion retaliated.

Flaming projectiles were launched by the catapults.

Alas, it was in vain: before they could reach the men of Clan Mercury, a machine gun perched on a vehicle reduced them to ashes.

The gunner burst into laughter, proud of his flawless aim.

On the wall, the knights panicked. They had never seen such weapons before, and they feared the ramparts would not withstand another volley.

Their fears were not unfounded: the mortars were quickly reloaded and tore through the skies once more.

This time, however, before they could shake the ramparts, a man rose.

Coating

Destructive Strike

Renard leapt over the walls, his axe projecting a colossal image of itself that destroyed the shells before they could hit their target.

"Forward!" he shouted, urging his knights to follow.

("Defending the walls would be useless against such devilish weapons. The best choice is to destroy them.") he realized.

At his command, the great gate opened and a cavalry poured out. Renard grabbed a free horse, mounted it, and took the lead. Seeing Arnaud at his side, he asked :

"Stay back for now and watch the battle from above."

Arnaud wanted to protest, but the situation allowed no argument. As the future leader, he had to set an example. He obeyed reluctantly, turned his horse, and rode away from his father, who was already charging into a thrilling battle.

...

On the other side, Iko clearly saw Renard’s attack , the same that had scarred him years ago.

("This time will be different.") he thought.

Back then, he had only been an Intermediate, not yet the leader of Clan Mercury.

During a mission to sell the drugged serum to the people of Orion, he had clashed with Renard. That day, he and his men had been forced to flee with their tails between their legs, humiliated facing a Master.

Since then, everything had changed.

Through relentless training, he had reached the rank of Master and risen to the head of the clan by sheer strength.

As chief, he had long buried the sting of that humiliating defeat, especially since Orion had remained isolated, avoiding contact with the other cities under his influence.

But the news that Orion had nearly annihilated one of his teams, leaving only a single survivor to spread the news , had reopened that old wound.

"Today, I’ll have my revenge, no matter the cost," he muttered to himself.

He advanced slowly but confidently, stepping past his men.

They stopped firing, waiting for their leader to put on a show. The Awakened stood behind him, leaving the weapons to the non-Awakened.

Iko spotted the dust rising from the galloping cavalry. The flat, open terrain allowed him to see the faces of those in the vanguard, including the four Intermediates he needed to eliminate to ease his men’s task.

Opening his hands, a black haze rose from the ground. From afar it looked like haze , but in truth, it resembled fine charcoal particles, gathering into the shape of a fog.

The higher he raised his hand, the taller the haze climbed.

It emitted a grating sound, like chalk scraping across a board.

Hexing

He thrust his hands forward, and the black haze plunged like a wave onto the approaching cavalry.

...

At the mere sight of the haze, the horses trembled, throwing off the less experienced knights.

Renard felt his own mount slow and try to back away. With a firm grip on the reins, he forced it to press forward, his double-bladed axe ready to cut the haze in two.

But before his weapon could strike the air, the haze split on its own at a wave of Iko’s hand. Then, like wind-driven arcs, it spread around them and, before Renard could react, enveloped them from behind.

"Nooo!" Renard roared as he turned back. But it was too late: the entire rear line of the cavalry collapsed, horses and riders alike. Their corpses oozed a white foam spilling from their mouths and nostrils.

Seizing the psychological shock, Iko didn’t even need to give an order. His men moved on their own.

Machine guns and assault rifles thundered like a opera.

Though an Initiate was physically stronger than a non-Awakened, he was still human: a bullet could always strike him down. If a 9mm round wounded without killing, all it took was a 15mm bullet aimed at a vital spot to reap a life instantly.

The knights could sometimes see the bullets coming, even dodge them, but a single moment of hesitation was enough for a fatal shot to claim them.

Result: nearly twenty Initiates fell in that first deadly dance.

"Kill!" roared Renard, his commanding voice restoring order in his ranks.

Abandoning his horse, he slammed his axe violently into the ground.

Destructive Strike

The image of a giant axe surged forth, a shockwave rushing with the speed of a shell.

Coating

Before the wave could hit his men, Iko stepped forward. His body, cloaked in a thin black light, struck the air, creating a counter shockwave that nullified Renard’s. Then, leaping high, his fist met his opponent’s axe, which Renard held defensively.

A smile curved the lips of Clan Mercury’s leader.

"I’ve been waiting for you."

"Hmph," Renard grunted.

"Waiting for me? Who the hell are you?" he asked, with no memory of him.

("What? He hasn’t forgotten me, has he...?") Iko thought, leaping back.

For a moment, they stood face to face.

The earth shook and cracked beneath them as they launched forward, unleashing incredible speed and power.

Each blow sent shockwaves resounding dozens of meters away. Both used Coating, a faint light enveloping their bodies.

To the non-Awakened, it was nothing but flashes of light and crashes like mortar fire each time Iko’s fists clashed with Renard’s fierce axe.

The Initiates ceased fighting to retreat, afraid the shockwaves might kill them by accident.

Only the six Intermediates fighting elsewhere could appreciate the subtleties of this duel between Masters.

Renard and Iko were locked in their battle, the rest of the battlefield forgotten.

Iko fought like the gangster he was: without rules, without honor.

Fists, feet, bites, spits , everything was allowed in a street fight, and over time he had made that chaos his style.

He pressed Renard hard into defense with a relentless assault. His fists moved so fast that afterimages made it seem as though thousands of blows landed every second.

"If you’ve forgotten me, then let me remind you with my fists!" he shouted, without slowing his assault.

Renard blocked and parried, relying on his axe.

His armor was dented in several places where he had been struck.

Unlike Iko, Renard followed the knight’s code.

He would not bite, headbutt, or kick : his weapon and technique alone would decide the victor.

He believed in that, and would remain faithful to it until death.

A blow sent him flying several meters, but he rose instantly and charged again.

What vexed him most was that his opponent seemed to claim familiarity, yet he had no recollection of him.

No matter how hard he searched his memory, he would never have forgotten such a Master.

As he pondered, his mind wandered for a heartbeat. But his disciplined body betrayed nothing.

And in that fleeting moment, he understood as enemy artillery thundered again:

("The battle rages elsewhere. I must not delay.")

Resolute, he switched to offense.

Planting his feet firmly, he stopped retreating.

He roared, commanding his body to obey.

He pulled his axe back for momentum, then swung it down with all his might.

Sigma Mode

Heavenly Axe

A massive axe projection soared into the sky before crashing down with the force of a missile.

Everyone on the battlefield covered their ears. Some non-Awakened bled from their eardrums from the noise alone.

A crater several meters wide formed on impact.

At its center, Iko knelt on one knee, his clothes torn, blood dripping from his hands and chest. At the last instant, he too had invoked:

Sigma Mode

Without it, at best he would have been incapacitated, at worst, dead.

Yet a grin spread across his face.

He was one of those who savored the thrill of combat.

Some might have called him a masochist. He couldn’t have cared less.