The Laughing Swordsman

The icicles pierced cleanly through any eagles they came across. They kept coming out in a constant stream that wasn't stopping any time soon.

Eagles fell from the sky in swaths.

The tide of battle was immediately turned over. Yet, the eagles were fearless, charging in despite the unfavorable conditions.

But they were all charging to their death.

The overbearing force was simply too much for them to handle.

Apollo got closer. He wanted to see where the wave of icicles came from.

As he got closer, he found the source.

It was a four-horned demon.

In terms of size, it was roughly the same as the two-horned demons. However, instead of being muscular, it was scrawny.

It was holding its claw up to the sky. Right above its palm was a dense ball of mana.

Gales of wind circulated the demon, converging to its palm.

The icicles slowly formed as they traveled, only being completed after traveling a few meters away.

The devastation these icicles created was clear from the eagle bodies that littered the ground. By now, only a few remained in the sky.

Suddenly, a three-horned demon's head snapped to look at Apollo. In the next second, it roared.

All of the demons turned their heads to Apollo. If he was someone with stage fright, he would have fainted where he stood.

Though while he didn't faint, he was still in a pretty bad situation.

The demon with four horns slowly shifted its hand towards Apollo. The barrage of icicles came for him.

Apollo's body began heating up. The red scars crawled further down Apollo's skin, all the way to his hands and feet.

Apollo let loose.

His bokken flashed, diverting the countless icicles coming his way. Apollo's bokken flew around like it was a serpent, slithering between slashes.

Sometimes just the tip of his bokken would graze against an icicle and other times he would directly slash them in half.

He had yet to take a hit despite the unrelenting assault coming for him.

But...

He was also being forced back. Forced to step back multiple times.

Apollo was angry.

It was happening again.

He was too weak.

First, he had to run when he faced the woman that used wind magic. After that, he could only flail his bokken in front of Mark as though he was a child.

Now, the only thing he could do was step back.

Why?

Did he have to run again?

Apollo's pupils shook and his laughs resounded throughout the forest.

He was so tired of running.

Either he would either kill every demon here or die trying.

...But he was still being forced back.

It appeared that the icicles would continue rampaging at him forever. At this rate, he would die before these icicles ran out.

Perhaps they wouldn't even run out in the first place.

Apollo wildly slashed his bokken to protect his meager life.

He wished to tear down this world. To burn it to the ground.

Yet, it was not him striking the world, but the world striking him.

The only thing he did was defend.

He was at the whim of destiny, doing everything he could to keep himself alive.

Every single fight, his priority was always his own life.

To break out of the loop, he hid himself like a turtle. The only thing he could do was block. After that, he would block some more, then block again.

Not once could he land a single attack.

Apollo laughed louder.

He was essentially screaming, his voice grating against his throat.

It was then Apollo realized something.

If he sought to protect himself before anything else, he wouldn't become as strong as he needed to be.

He would be left behind by those that had risen in power. Left to taste their dust.

Growth didn't come from hiding in a shell.

It came from pain.

An icicle pierced through Apollo's stomach.

But.

He took a step forward.

If he wanted to bend the world to his will, he had to let himself be bent in return.

Apollo was walking towards the four-horned demon. His skin tore open from the icicles that grazed past him, splashing his blood across the snow.

His steps sped up until he was running at full speed towards the four-horned demon.

Another icicle pierced his stomach. After that, an icicle pierced his leg, taking off a chunk of flesh.

Yet, he was still going.

Nothing could stop him from moving forward.

While he was still in the storm of icicles, a three-horned demon stepped in. The icicles pierced through its body, causing its blood to spray everywhere.

But it didn't care.

The three-horned demon swung its mace at Apollo, ready to mutilate his body.

If Apollo took a step back, he could've dodged.

But he didn't.

His bokken flew out and bashed against the three-horned demon's chest. Unable to handle the stress, its chest caved in.

However, the mace was still flying towards Apollo.

His chest bore the brunt of the impact and his ribcage shattered.

Apollo felt fragments of his bones piercing into his flesh. There was no longer anything protecting any of his vital organs.

Yet, despite everything, he hadn't taken a step backward.

His body was damaged beyond repair. The fact he was even alive was astonishing.

When he breathed in, he could feel his lungs being cut up by his shattered rib cage.

And somehow, like a miracle, Apollo took a step forward.

His laughter became intermittent as he would cough out blood every few seconds.

Soon, the icicles couldn't even form before they reached Apollo.

He was face-to-face with the four-horned demon.

The ravings of insanity filled his eyes.

Some would consider Apollo a madman long before this. But he wouldn't fit the real definition of that word.

True madness was when one cared less about one's life than their enemies themselves.

Treating their lives as nothing more than a joke.

Yet, only those that are truly mad will be able to defy the laws of the world.

And fight back.

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