Had any besides Elias managed to track Alder’s movements? That question was swiftly answered—none of the knights reacted as the monstrous beast drew near.
Or rather, they could not react. The sheer speed of Alder’s movements made it nearly impossible for ordinary warriors to follow with their eyes. Thus, the first to move—was Elias.
He took a single step forward. In the same instant, Alder lunged. Its eyes locked onto Elias with the same murderous intent it had shown before. Once more, it had chosen its target and launched its attack.
(If all it sought was escape, there would be no reason to come for me again… Could it have some other objective while attempting to flee?)
The thought crossed his mind, yet there was no time to dwell on it. Alder was upon him. The knights and heroes nearby barely managed to raise their voices in alarm—there was no time for anything more.
And then—Alder stepped into the trap.
In the blink of an eye, the magic activated, unleashing a surge of lightning that coursed through the beast’s body.
This was no ordinary offensive spell. Lightning-based magic came in different forms—some struck through their target, rending flesh and ending lives in an instant. A high-level mage could send a single bolt through a creature’s body, reducing it to charred remains.
However, this particular trap had been designed differently. It was imbued with an effect that numbed and paralyzed. Having carefully analyzed Alder’s characteristics, Elias had fine-tuned the spell to ensure that it would take hold.
And it worked.
Alder’s body seized. The lightning crackled across its hide, locking its muscles in place. The effect was akin to a human’s muscles stiffening from an electric shock, preventing movement entirely.
The reason the trap was so effective was simple—Alder’s own nature. The beast constantly channeled magic into its legs to facilitate its lightning-fast movements. Elias had modified the trap to exploit this very trait, using the gathered energy as a conduit to send the paralyzing effect surging through its entire form.
Still, the effect would last only moments. At most, it would be immobilized for mere seconds before breaking free.
But for Elias, that was more than enough.
The instant the trap activated, he poured every ounce of power into his body, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat.
His blade came crashing down toward Alder’s head.
It was a blow far swifter than the beast could react to. For fifty long years, it had evaded its pursuers—but now, for the first time, it failed to escape the blade that sought its life.
As his strike connected, a piercing, almost pained roar echoed through the forest. The impact reverberated through Elias’s arms, his grip tightening around the hilt.
Yet Alder did not move.
Whether it was the lingering effects of the trap, the confusion from the sudden blow, or the sheer shock of being wounded—it remained rooted in place.
“Attack!”
A knight’s voice rang out.
Recognizing the moment for what it was—a fleeting but decisive opportunity—the knights and heroes surged forward.
Still, Alder did not move. Some among them may have thought Elias’s strike had already killed it. Yet even with that uncertainty, none hesitated.
Before Elias could deliver a second blow, countless blades plunged into the beast’s massive form.
Alder let out a faint, pitiful sound—not the kind of roar one would expect from a legendary predator, but a weak, feeble cry. The last breath of a creature that had terrorized the northern lands for decades.
One after another, swords were withdrawn.
With a final shudder, Alder’s enormous body crumpled, crashing lifelessly to the earth.
And then—cheers erupted.
The battlefield shook with cries of triumph, the warriors’ voices rising to the sky in sheer exultation.
“—Well, that’s that.”
As the knights at the frontline handled the aftermath, Elias stood observing their work when Misheana approached him.
“That was utterly absurd,” she remarked. “I never thought it would go down in a single strike.”
“It didn’t,” Elias corrected. “The beast was immobilized, yes, but it was still alive after my blow.”
He recalled the sensation of his blade striking Alder’s hide, then continued.
“The finishing blows came from the knights. I probably could have ended it with a second strike, but they were quicker.”
“I see… So, does this count as your victory?” she asked with a raised brow.
“The trap was mine. And I certainly dealt it a fatal wound,” Elias admitted. “But the final blow was delivered by the knights and heroes. The official battle report will be written by the commanding officer of the subjugation force. They might downplay my role.”
He gave a small shrug.
“If I really wanted sole credit, I would have needed to take its head in a single stroke. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.”
“…Even with a full-power strike?” Misheana probed.
“Well… no.”
(In truth—I hadn’t swung at full strength.)
Elias had held back—not for lack of confidence, but as a precaution. He had no way of knowing how Alder would react after taking damage. If it somehow managed to escape despite the trap, he needed to be ready to chase it down and finish the job.
Had he poured everything into that single strike, he might have severed its head—but he had chosen to reserve some strength in case of the worst.
(That beast lived far longer than it should have… Over the years, it must have absorbed immense amounts of magic from the air, reinforcing its hide. I should have accounted for that when estimating my power.)
Still, he felt no regret.
(The battle was won without unnecessary sacrifice. That alone is enough.)
Yet, deep in his heart, one thought remained.
(I still have a long way to go. I must hone my skills even further.)
And with that vow, Elias once more steeled himself for the path ahead.