Chapter 17: Clash in the Hills

Though Terty merely let out a dry chuckle, the gnolls—beasts of blood and fang—were thrown into chaos. One of their own had been slain before they’d even twitched a muscle.

They had intellect, yes, but not understanding. These corrupted beasts lacked the depth of mind to grasp the nature of magic—especially not the arcane tempest that had just unfolded before them.

But whether their minds could comprehend it or not, the bloodied pool—slick with brain and gore—did something unnatural.

It surged.

Like time itself had reversed, the water leapt upward, reshaping mid-air into two solid masses. With a sudden snap, they split and rocketed in opposite directions.

SCHWRAAAK!

The targeted gnolls panicked. One flung itself aside in a desperate dive; another raised its forelimbs as if to swat the attack aside.

Too late.

Had they moved swiftly at the start—maybe. But hesitation is death, and they moved only when fear had already sunk its teeth into them.

THWUMP. THWUMP.

Both their skulls shattered—caved in as if struck by warhammers. The water, though fluid, carried weight like steel. A mage’s conjuring, brutal in its precision.

Any normal creature might have fled by now.

But these were no normal beasts. They were malspawn—bred not of nature but of malice. The remaining four lunged forward, driven by hate deeper than fear.

“You’ll be alright?”
Terty asked, voice calm amid the charging death.

“If it’s only one,” Curtis replied with a short nod.

“Then I’ll handle the other three.”

Terty stepped forward, drawing his blade in one smooth motion. It was a longsword—not so broad as a greatsword, but long enough to use with two hands if needed. Today, he wielded it one-handed.

SHNK!

The lead gnoll never even saw it coming. One clean stroke — its head tumbled free, the arc of the swing near-perfect.

The sword, still moving with a graceful curve, shifted its path mid-swing — and buried itself clean between the eyes of a second gnoll charging from the right.

THWUK.

The third arrived just as Terty withdrew his blade. But even as its claws slashed through empty air, Terty had already taken two steps back.

SHLIK!

Another swift stroke. A headless corpse spurted blood and collapsed at his feet.

At that same moment, the final gnoll was struck from behind — its spine broken clean in two by a lash of high-pressure water, snapping like a whip in the wind.

It twitched, struggled… then lay still.

“Weren’t you here to get some real battle experience?”
Terty asked, sliding his blade back into its sheath.

“That’s right,” Curtis nodded.

“You don’t fight like a greenhorn. You’re far too composed.”

“I am a greenhorn,” Curtis replied. “This was my first real combat. I’ve watched others fight before… but that’s hardly the same.”

“Very different,” Terty agreed. “No amount of watching teaches the rhythm of blood and breath. But you fought like one born to it.”

“I only managed because the situation was stable. If we were in a real crisis, I doubt I could cast so freely.”

“And yet, even seasoned warriors make mistakes under pressure,” Terty said. “That’s why mages fight with guards — to give them that very freedom. You held your ground well. More than well.”

He raised a thumb in approval. Curtis answered with a modest, slightly awkward smile.

Truth be told, Curtis didn’t think his performance was all that impressive. The gnolls were weaklings. Even a Bronze-ranked fighter could handle one or two, provided they were properly equipped.

Zerbon — his old master — had been a mage of Silver rank.

By Curtis’s reckoning, he had already reached a similar threshold.

And if a Silver-ranked mage could fell four gnolls alone, that wasn’t praiseworthy — it was expected.

Still, Terty had never seen Curtis’s magic before. His awe was understandable.

“Honestly, I was more impressed by your skills, Ser Terty,” Curtis said with a grin. “You didn’t even take off your pack.”

“Haha! It’d be shameful if I had to, wouldn’t it?”
Terty laughed. “I am Silver-ranked. If I needed to go all out against gnolls, I’d have to hang up my sword.”

Just as mages possessed mana, warriors drew on a force known as gongryeok — power earned through sweat, blood, and relentless training.

Unlike magic, it held no affinity for elements. It could not conjure fire, bend air, or twist shadows. But it enhanced the body itself — raw strength made divine through discipline.

A warrior of Silver rank stood in a realm no ordinary man could ever reach.

To someone like Terty, the gnolls were not foes.

They were little more than dancing pests.

“Well, at this rate, I doubt there’s much advice I can offer,” Terty said with a faint laugh. “With your talents, you’re more than fine so long as I play the role of your shield. Is there anything you’d ask of me?”

“If our battles go just as they did earlier, I’ll have no complaints,” Curtis replied. “Aside from that… perhaps a slower pace when we’re climbing.”

“…Slower?” Terty blinked. “I have been going easy on you.”

“We didn’t stop once after ascending the ridge,” Curtis muttered.

“It’s barely been an hour.”

“An hour too many. I wasn’t exactly scaling mountains in my spare time.”

Though Curtis’s body was healthy—honed by years of Earth-born discipline and light training—he was far from a warrior. He lacked the intense regimen and cultivated energy Terty wielded, and he didn’t possess anything remotely close to martial ki.

“Guess I’ve lost perspective spending all my time around mercenaries,” Terty mused, scratching his head. “Hardly ever needed to worry about a mage’s stamina.”

“Let me know when you need a break,” he added. “No point hunting malspawn if we collapse before finding them. We’ll go at your pace.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Speaking of which, go ahead and rest a moment. I’ll fetch the trophies.”

As Curtis sank onto a nearby rock, catching his breath, Terty strolled through the fallen corpses of gnolls, casually slicing off their left ears—the designated proof of kill by the Mercenary Guild. It wasn’t much, but they’d earn coin for each one turned in.

“Some of the heads burst outright. That water blast of yours was too strong—blew the ears apart.”

“A pity,” Curtis said with mock gravity. “I’ll aim from the right next time.”

Terty chuckled. “No need to go that far. It’s just a few coins—no sense compromising combat for it.”

“I’m practicing,” Curtis said, smiling faintly. “Might as well earn while I learn.”

“Well said. In that case—if you’ve caught your breath, shall we press on?”

Curtis groaned lightly, but rose.