Bear School Astartes

In the split-second between his leap and his landing, Lann, who had just relied on his mastery of Light Body Skill and his hard, powerful muscles to launch himself straight up into midair—

had barely finished hacking out the Cross Slash, not even touching the ground yet.

But Gremman, who followed up at an even higher speed right after, forced the two of them through another two exchanges in midair.

If it were someone whose visual speed and thinking speed weren’t exceptional enough, he wouldn’t even have the right to know what happened in between—his head and body would already be parted.

Gremman ducked his head to avoid Lann’s turning slash, and his inertia was still very much a factor.

The scythe that wanted to cut Lann clean in half at the waist, the external impact from that swing indeed disrupted the stable landing posture Lann had planned.

The scythe trailing behind him dragged the Demon Hunter down with it, smashing both of them into the ground.

With a dull ”thump”.

Lann’s heavy body mass dropped straight down from the seven or eight meters he’d just leapt into the air.

For an ordinary person, that height would be more than enough to kill.

Even for a professional, if the landing posture was wrong, you’d die from the fall all the same.

What’s more, Lann’s own body weight would only further amplify gravity’s damage to him.

But times are different now.

Reinforced bones and muscles, the bio-metal cable weave that sheathed his musculature, and all those exquisite techniques.

Lann was indeed yanked down by the scythe hooked around his waist, his posture clumsy as he slammed straight into the ground, yet he only staggered on landing; one hand braced the ground and he smoothly stabilized his center of gravity again.

In the battle with the Fog Nest Master, that Terror Tyrannosaurus, the two of their bodies, entangled and locked in a death struggle, could literally crush rock just by driving each other into it!

They even carved a path through the Ponta River Valley with their collisions! Compared to that, what did a little impact damage from falling count as?

Though inevitably, dirt and flower petals stuffed themselves into the seams of his armor in that process.

The bone-white armor turned a bit dirty, but at the same time, it immediately looked like it had tasted battlefield tempering, gaining a murderous, war-smoked aura.

The instant Lann braced his hand and steadied himself standing, that supporting hand immediately swept up to the height of his own waist!

In the process of turning and swinging his blade midair earlier, the scythe edge that had originally hooked his abdomen had actually shifted to hooking his lower back as he twisted.

This grab of Lann’s was meant to clamp down directly on this rare weapon.

He used the armor on his hand and elbow, the angles between the plates, together with the scythe edge already hooked onto the backplate at his waist, to forcibly take the drag-cut of the scythe and lock down Gremman’s mobility!

This tactical plan—ever since Smaug’s belly armor successfully blocked the Funeral Blade’s scythe—had already been drafted in Lann’s mind together with Mentos.

Because of his profound Acceleration Technique mastery that pushed speed to unknown heights, Gremman’s mobility completely outclassed Lann’s.

But his scythe-edge, against Lann’s Smaug heavy armor, simply couldn’t do much.

In that case, restricting Gremman’s movement was the key to this fight!

Lann’s tactical thinking was as sharp as his Swordsmanship.

Yet as the scythe blade scraped and ground in close contact against the dragon-scale plates of the heavy armor, screaming out a piercing shriek, Gremman certainly understood Lann’s intention.

He was someone who’d been rolling in blood and mud on the Asura Battlefield all the way to this moment; how could he possibly fail to see through Lann’s glaring tactical aim?

After dragging Lann down from the air with him, Gremman’s landing posture was a bit better than Lann’s.

At the very least, he could still keep his balance.

The wooden prosthetic that replaced one of his lower legs actually gained an advantage here precisely because it lacked the many joints and bone structures of a normal foot.

With a simple brace from that wooden limb, Gremman pivoted on a single point and completed his turn.

From a crouched, low posture with his back to Lann, having just dodged a decapitation slash, he turned to face Lann head-on.

He was even half a beat faster than Lann, seemingly about to yank out the scythe at once, opening up distance.

But on one hand, the Smaug on Lann’s body wasn’t a one-piece armor structure, but a suit composed of trimmed dragon scales, locked and interlinked through precise calculations.

This gave the entire armor edges and angles, even allowing it to show off body lines.

At the same time, those edges also made it very easy to catch and jam blades that struck the armor.

On the other hand... as a bizarre weapon, scythes are inherently very easy to get stuck.

Back in the day, the feeling of the Funeral Blade cutting through anything without resistance made Gremman unaccustomed to pulling his scythe free—why bother, when anything in front of the edge could just be sliced apart?

But now, that ingrained habit cost him a beat compared to Lann.

”Ka-la-la~”

The scythe-edge tried to pull free, but the grinding scrape and torque from being pinned between elbow armor and waist armor made one’s teeth ache.

The blade forged from strange meteors drifting through the cosmos gnawed at the dragon scales of the Lonely Mountain Evil Dragon.

Unfortunately, this blade was ultimately no Black Arrow.

It was not the supreme killing weapon created by the Dwarves—who had already persisted and passed down their craft for tens of thousands of years in the world where the Creator God still reigned.

”Ssshing!”

With one hand clamping the scythe-edge, Lann’s other hand swept the Lady of the Lake’s Sword in a sudden circle of light.

That clear silver gleam swept in an instant straight across the two hands Gremman had wrapped around the scythe’s long haft.

Blood blossomed in a spray, dyeing the white flowers beneath the Old Hunter a vivid red.

Under moonlight so bright it was almost unnatural, the blood on those petals even reflected the moon into something colder, more sinister.

But Lann, who had just slashed both of his opponent’s hands in a single stroke, did not look optimistic; his brows even furrowed slightly.

Judging by sharpness alone, with the Lady of the Lake’s Sword cleaving down, Gremman’s two hands should have been cleanly severed outright, the cut surfaces smooth and neat.

Yet right now, those hands still sat on Gremman’s wrists.

”Good armor. But I already told you...”

The Old Hunter spoke calmly, as if the spray of blood from his wrists just now had been nothing but an illusion.

Lann looked down at him from above, but thanks to the brim of that tall top hat, he could only see the old, amused curve of the man’s mouth.

”Against you, the support He gave me is already more than enough.”

The moment the words fell...

”Kacha!”

From within the Transformable Weapon, machinery spun in an instant, and sparks burst forth!

The Demon Hunter’s pupils shrank sharply!

At his lower back, the blade of the Funeral Blade scraped and clashed against the Smaug armor plates, and in that instant the friction exploded fierce enough to spit sparks like a chainsaw cutting steel!

Almost by reflex, Lann’s left hand had already pinched into a seal.

”Boom!”

A layer of golden Chaos Magic Shield formed in a flash—and shattered just as instantly.

But in that subtle, fleeting span, this brief Quen Rune had already shaved off a good portion of the most violent sudden impact.

Otherwise, if that wave of force transmitted from the armor at his lower back into his body, then even after being attenuated layer by layer by the Tendon Coil and reinforced muscles, it would likely still slam into Lann’s kidneys.

Making the core muscle group of his lower back seize and ache for a moment under the pull.

And for that to happen in a fight against an enemy like Gremman...that would be little different from just dropping dead on the spot.

But the Old Hunter’s Transformation Slash was not something so easily endured.

Under the unique mechanical motion of the Transformable Weapon, the sinuous, sturdy scythe haft folded in the middle, while the blade itself detached from the grip right at Lann’s lower back, falling downward.

The lock formed by Lann’s elbow and waist armor indeed could no longer hold this current form of the Funeral Blade.

However, stripping his own weapon apart and letting it fall away...Gremman was certainly not doing this to surrender.

The standard configuration of a Yan Nan Hunter is melee weapon in the right hand, firearm ready in the left.

And as the template of a Yan Nan Hunter, Gremman was of course the same.

In the very instant after the mechanical whir of the Transformable Weapon, within the Demon Hunter’s contracting pupils, a dark gun barrel that had somehow appeared was rising from below, aimed straight at his jaw.

Smaug was a set of heavy armor that did not include a helmet.

And Gremman had clearly already realized this.

”Bang!!!”

The old musket seemed to have had its projectile power boosted in a crude way, simply by overloading the charge and packing in more powder.

It was so worn that the Hunter’s Trumpet Gun in Gremman’s hands was wrapped around with strips of ragged, filthy cloth.

But anyone who’d stayed in Yan’an for a while knew that for Hunters who stalked prey here, the power of their ammunition depended on the quality of their own blood.

The ’higher’ the quality, the stronger the water mercury bullets prepared by mixing that blood in.

Lann was not worried about the firearm’s physical power, because in terms of sheer kinetic force, even if these pellets hit him straight in the face, they would not penetrate the Inner Steel beneath his skin, the woven cables of living steel.

What Lann was worried about was the blood mixed into those water mercury bullets.

The Demon Hunter immediately strained to tilt his head back, and in the instant flame burst from the muzzle of that old Hunter’s Trumpet Gun, Mentos had already calculated all the impact points of the scattershot.

Lann’s ultra-fast reaction let his head dodge most of the projectiles, but one or two small pellets were still going to hit his chin and neck.

Yet having already tilted his head at the last possible moment and avoided the majority of the shot, Lann no longer felt any urgency or tension.

”Bang bang!”

Two pellets among the scattershot, following the trajectories predicted by Mentos, did indeed strike Lann’s exposed jaw and neck where his armor didn’t cover.

But between the projectiles and his skin, a layer of suddenly manifest golden Chaos Magic protective barrier flared up, and after two sharp detonations, knocked the water mercury bullets askew and sent them flying!

In Belengar’s hands, the Smaug armor had inherited the Bear School Grandmaster Level armor’s inherent ability: it could reclaim the Chaos Magic Power scattered and lost when a Quen Rune shattered, and spontaneously form a second shield.

So at this hair’s-breadth moment, all the water mercury bullets aimed at Lann’s bare head and neck missed their mark!

But the Old Hunter did not grow disheartened.

Ever since that earlier slash had failed to cut through Lann’s armor, he had already known this would be a grueling battle.

The purpose of that shot...had always been to free his blade.