Chapter 41
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Chapter 41: The First Battle of Tami Town
Tami Town was located in the northwestern part of the Asreks family territory, a short distance from the Forest of Gran.
The town had a copper mine, making it a vital resource hub near a major trade route. It should have been a thriving place, with merchant caravans, caravans, and transport teams bustling through its streets daily.
But now, flames erupted from buildings across the town. The streets were stained red with blood as screams of terror replaced the usual noise. The peaceful scenery had turned into a nightmare.
A week earlier, Midi’s father, Count Ingman, had ordered a full evacuation. Yet Tami Town’s large scale delayed the process. With civilians still present, the stationed troops remained.
But against the Joseph family’s thousand-strong "Blood Wolves" unit, the town’s defenders—fewer than a hundred soldiers—were quickly overwhelmed.
The Blood Wolves rampaged through the streets, laughing as they looted and slaughtered. Doors were smashed open, civilians dragged out, and greatswords hacked relentlessly. The once-prosperous town became a hell of death and fear.
“Sir, Young Master Quinn’s orders were to secure Tami Town and prepare defenses…” the adjutant cautiously reminded.
Those dying weren’t mere farmers—they were skilled miners and merchants, valuable assets for any lord. Burning and killing them would leave only a hollow prize for their ambitious new master.
“Who cares?” The Blood Wolves’ captain, Mad Wolf, spat. “Blame it on ‘fierce resistance.’ After being shackled by that old fool Count Ingman, we deserve some fun!”
Seeing Mad Wolf’s bloodlust, the adjutant fell silent, already drafting excuses for Quinn.
“Kill them all!” Mad Wolf roared, spotting a group of Asreks soldiers still fighting. He charged like a wolf toward prey.
The defending captain, seeing no escape, lunged at Mad Wolf.
“Fool!” Mad Wolf sneered. His left arm glowed crimson as his greatsword surged with bloody light. The blade tore through the air with a chilling shriek.
Berserker skill: Blood Awakening! His speed and strength skyrocketed.
“That’s a Demon Swordman—level 30 or higher!” The captain paled. His own soldiers, barely level 10, stood no chance.
Mad Wolf grinned, anticipating their gruesome deaths. But a sudden chill gripped his heart—a battlefield instinct honed over years. He swung his greatsword sideways.
Clang!
A blinding sword light blocked his strike, forcing him back. His boots scraped deep grooves into the ground.
*What power…?!*
Mad Wolf steadied himself, blood churning. Before him stood a black-haired youth with piercing eyes, his cloak billowing in the wind. Though calm, his presence felt like a prowling tiger.
In his hand glowed a Lightsaber, its blue edge sharp and cold—a weapon of a Sword Soul.
“Who are you?!” Mad Wolf barked.
“A dead man needs no answers,” Midi replied coldly.
Mad Wolf hesitated, wary of facing him alone. His thirty elite warriors swiftly surrounded Midi and the remaining defenders.
“Stay back. I’ll handle this,” Midi said, patting the captain’s shoulder. Then he charged.
One against thirty, plus a level 35 Berserker leader—Midi didn’t hesitate and attacked immediately!
"Bold!" Mad Wolf roared. Known for his own ferocious style, how could he stomach being challenged first while surrounded? All doubts vanished as his greatsword became a blur, whipping up fierce winds toward Midi.
Midi smirked and murmured a spell.
His left arm erupted with ghostly energy, icy whirlwinds exploding outward. Frost spread across the ground as spear-like ice shards burst upward, impaling armor and flesh alike—a forest of white death!
Ten elite soldiers died instantly. The survivors found themselves trapped, unable to strike.
"A demon array? Impossible!" Mad Wolf paled.
He suddenly remembered—the night Crimson Flame Legion fell, a Demon Swordman wielding light and shadows had single-handedly routed three two hundred-man teams, slaughtering centurions in moments.
Midi Asreks!
Mad Wolf finally recognized the black-haired boy.
Midi’s sword was already swinging.
Frost-edged light sliced downward, leaving a gleaming arc.
"Such power!" Tami Town defenders gaped, forgetting their defense.
"Damn." Mad Wolf stiffened. He’d heard rumors of Midi’s strength, but now faced that bone-chilling killing intent firsthand.
As a veteran Berserker, he knew retreat meant death. His only choice—unleash everything.
Mad Wolf’s left arm flushed crimson. The demon god within broke free, flooding his veins with raw magic, replacing reason with bloodlust.
His eyes burned red. Muscles swelled, distorting his form into something beastly.
Blood Frenzy—a Berserker’s last resort. The toll was brutal, but so was its might.
But his opponent was Midi.
Midi, who’d merged perfectly with his mysterious demon god.
At level 23, facing a level 35 foe should’ve been impossible. Against ordinary warriors, Midi’s limit was level 30 centurions—not commanders.
But Demon Swordmen were different.
Back at level 19 during the academy trial, Midi’s aura had suppressed a level 35 sword soul. Now at level 23, after absorbing vast magic through countless battles, his dominance over this level 35 Berserker was absolute.
As the hulking Berserker charged, silver cold flame ignited in Midi’s eyes.
His will commanded the demon god in his left arm to strike—an invisible blow seizing the rampaging spirit within Mad Wolf.
Divine Demonic Strike.
Mad Wolf’s inner flames snuffed out. Ice crystallized in his veins. His demon god trembled as magic leaked away, strength draining rapidly.
"What did you do?!" Mad Wolf cried—same words as the sword soul before him.
Midi didn’t answer. His blade fell.
Mad Wolf blocked but skidded back, eyes wide. No time for questions.
A second strike followed, Lightsaber gleaming soul-chilling bright.
Mad Wolf retreated again, boots carving trenches. Cracks spiderwebbed his prized greatsword.
Clang!
The third strike arced down. Mad Wolf’s sword wailed as he flew like a snapped kite. He steadied himself, arms quivering, blood trickling.
An eternity of opening for Midi.
The fourth strike came—no flourish, just lethal precision.
Mad Wolf’s blade shattered. The Lightsaber continued through armor, flesh, bone—bisecting the Berserker mid-air.
