Long after a great war, the land lies ravaged. Iron is precious, and decent weapons come only from traveling merchants or ancient battlefields. Each settlement keeps a few self-defense warriors, scraping by.
Orvan, a silent warrior, saves his comrade Puyis from a superior monster by deflecting its attack with his weapon. The weapon shatters, but Puyis survives.
Thus it begins. Each deflection costs him something. The more he protects, the more vanishes from his hands. Orvan seeks things to def
Parry of the Void - Vanguard — The Man Who Keeps Repelling —
The sky before dawn was still dark. But at the eastern edge, the color was beginning to change faintly.
At the watchtower standing on the outskirts of the settlement of Oldis. Atop the crude wooden frame, one of the scouts caught his breath.
"...North, east, west... three directions at once. Twenty... no, more than that."
That voice broke the silence of the night and ran to the self-defense corps station.
Before long, the alarm bell rang through the settlement. Clang, clang, clang—the dry metallic sound sliced through the sleeping air.
Orvan opened his eyes while still sitting on the ground behind the self-defense corps station.
His soot-colored black hair was damp with night dew. His bangs clung to his forehead. His gray eyes moved slowly in the darkness.
(They've come.)
He stood up. With his left hand, he gently touched the old bandage on his right wrist. Beneath the bandage, an old wound pulsed quietly.
From his waist belt hung numerous pieces of wood and stone fragments tied with cord. Among them, two fragments of a shattered blade. One was from three years ago. The other was from a few days ago.
Orvan traced the fragments with his finger. Cold. The coldness of iron lingered on his fingertips.
(Still there.)
He began walking toward the front of the station.
---
In front of the self-defense corps station. In the plaza, thirty warriors had already gathered.
All of them wore faces mixed with sleepiness and tension. Their weapons were rusted swords, wooden spears, stone axes. Those holding iron weapons could be counted on one hand.
Azmariya stood in the center of the plaza. Short-cropped black hair. Sun-bronzed skin. On her back, an iron sword—rare for this settlement. Her sharp eyes glanced over the gathered warriors.
"I'll relay the situation. A horde of humanoid demons is approaching simultaneously from the northern Ash-Iron Plains side, the eastern Dry River direction, and the western Forest of Lamentation side. Numbers are twenty-plus from each direction. The total is no less than sixty."
A stir ran through the warriors.
"Silence. We'll set up three defensive lines. I'll command the north. Gard, you take the east. Orvan, you take the west—you lot will defend it."
The moment Orvan's name was spoken, several warriors exchanged glances.
"...Orvan, you're front-line support. Understood? Stay back. You're in the way."
Azmariya's cold voice echoed through the plaza. Her eyes did not look at Orvan. She wouldn't even try to.
Orvan said nothing. He merely checked, in order, the bandage on his right wrist and the shattered blade fragments tied to his belt.
"Take your positions. There's no time."
The warriors scattered to their respective posts.
Orvan watched Azmariya's back as she headed toward the northern defensive line.
(Just defend.)
He began walking quietly.
---
The northern defensive line was set up before the small stream flowing along the north side of the settlement.
Along the riverbank stood crude wooden fences. The warriors crouched behind them, gripping their weapons.
The sky was beginning to lighten.
Before long, from beyond the northern Ash-Iron Plains, dust rose.
Rumble, rumble, rumble—the earth tremor drew closer.
"They're coming...!"
Someone shouted.
The next moment, the horde of humanoid demons appeared on the other side of the river.
Their height ranged from one and a half to two meters. Gray-brown skin. Elongated arms. Their claws were sharp, reflecting the morning light dully. Their eyes glowed red, glaring.
"Ready! Don't let them strike! Thin their numbers before they close in!"
Azmariya drew her iron sword.
The warriors raised their wooden spears and stone axes. Some had fingertips trembling from tension.
The horde began crossing the river.
Water splashed. The sound of demon feet kicking the shallow riverbed overlapped countlessly.
"Charge!!"
The warriors raised their war cries and charged.
---
The first contact occurred at the northern defensive line.
Five humanoid demons took the lead, knocking aside the militia's wooden spears and stone axes one after another.
Crack—the sound of wooden spears breaking. Clang—the sound of stone axes being deflected. The screams of warriors rose from all around.
Orvan watched the scene from the rear.
One of the front-liners had his shoulder torn by a demon's claw and fell to the ground. Blood seeped into the soil.
(Move.)
Orvan's body was moving on its own.
What he held was a short sword. A rusted iron short sword bought from a junk dealer.
The demon's claw swung down toward the fallen warrior.
Orvan inserted his short sword into the trajectory of that claw.
Clang!!
Sparks scattered.
The demon's arm was deflected. But in that instant, the short sword shattered from its base in Orvan's hand.
Iron fragments scattered to the ground.
(First strike.)
Orvan discarded the broken hilt and grabbed his next weapon. A hand spear. Wooden shaft, stone tip.
A demon charged toward another warrior.
Orvan cut in front of that demon.
With the hand spear, he repelled the demon's claw strike.
Crack!
The hand spear snapped in two. The tip spun through the air and fell to the ground.
(Second strike.)
A dull pain ran from his right wrist to his forearm. Orvan did not grimace.
He searched for his next weapon. At his feet was an iron plate a warrior had dropped. A shield fragment, apparently picked up from an old battlefield.
Orvan lifted it with both hands.
The demon's claw swung down from above.
Claaang!!
The iron plate shattered into pieces. Fragments grazed Orvan's cheek.
(Third strike.)
The pain in his right wrist intensified. Deep in the bone, a tingling numbness.
"Orvan! What are you doing! I told you to fall back!"
Azmariya's angry shout flew. But Orvan did not move.
A spare weapon of a comrade caught his eye. A wooden sword. It had fallen to the ground.
Orvan picked it up.
The demon's claw swept horizontally.
Orvan deflected it with the wooden sword.
Craaack!
The wooden sword shattered into pieces. Wood fragments pierced his face.
(Fourth strike.)
The sensation in his right wrist was fading. His fingers wouldn't move as he wanted.
Even so, Orvan stepped forward.
---
The defensive line was being pushed back.
There were too many demons. The warriors were forced to retreat inch by inch.
Each time Orvan lost a weapon, he picked up something from the ground, something a comrade had dropped, fragments of the broken fence—and kept deflecting.
Fifth strike. The shaft of a broken spear.
Sixth strike. Fragments of a shattered stone axe.
Seventh strike. A bent iron rod handed to him by one of the warriors.
Each time, a dull pain spread from his right wrist to his forearm.
(I can still do this.)
Orvan gritted his teeth.
That was when it happened.
"H-help! Someone! Demons at the food storage!"
A scream came from the eastern flank.
Orvan's gray eyes turned in that direction.
The food storage. A building on the east side of the settlement where provisions were kept. There were residents there who hadn't escaped in time.
And mixed with that voice was a familiar one.
"This way! Hurry! Into the food storage!"
It was Puisu. The scout apprentice boy. Flaxen hair that stuck up. Blue-gray eyes.
Orvan left the northern defensive line.
"Orvan! Where are you going!"
Azmariya's voice stabbed into his back. But Orvan did not turn around.
---
The eastern flank. In front of the food storage.
Puisu was guiding the residents who hadn't escaped into the food storage.
"Hurry! Please, hurry inside! It's all right, I'll protect you!"
His voice was trembling. His legs were trembling too. Even so, Puisu tried to make a smile.
That was when two humanoid demons appeared from behind the food storage.
"...This is bad."
Puisu raised his short wooden spear. His hands were shaking.
The demons leaped at him.
Puisu thrust with the wooden spear. But the demon dodged it with ease.
The next moment, the demon's claw tore Puisu's left arm.
"Guaaah!!"
Fresh blood sprayed. Puisu clutched his left arm and collapsed to the ground.
The demon raised its claw to finish him off.
"...A-ah..."
Puisu's blue-gray eyes widened in terror.
That was when it happened.
"...Fall back."
A low, flat voice.
Orvan stood between Puisu and the demon.
What he held was a picked-up iron pipe. A bent iron tube, apparently from an old battlefield.
The demon's claw swung down toward Puisu.
Orvan deflected that claw head-on with the iron pipe.
Claaang!!
The iron pipe shattered. Fragments pierced the demon's face.
The demon screamed and retreated.
(Fifth weapon.)
Orvan discarded the remains of the shattered iron pipe.
A burning pain from his right wrist to his forearm. His fingers were convulsing.
"Orvan-san...!"
Puisu was looking up at Orvan with a tear-soaked face.
Orvan grabbed Puisu's right arm with his left hand and pulled him up.
"To the food storage. Get in."
"B-but...!"
"Get in."
Orvan pushed Puisu into the entrance of the food storage.
Puisu, bleeding from his left arm, tumbled into the food storage.
Orvan closed the door of the food storage.
And then he turned around.
Two demons surrounded Orvan.
He had no weapon left.
(Dodge them bare-handed.)
Orvan kept dodging the demons' attacks by a hair's breadth.
Claws grazed his hair. The wind pressure swayed his bangs.
(Still there.)
At his feet lay a comrade's broken sword.
Orvan picked it up.
The demon's claw swung down from above.
Orvan deflected it with the broken sword.
Clang!!
The broken sword shattered further. What remained in his hand was only a blade fragment the size of a fist.
(Sixth strike.)
The sensation in his right wrist had almost vanished.
---
The battle continued for half a quarter-hour.
The vanguard of the horde, weighing the balance between the militia's counterattack and their own losses, began to retreat.
The demons at the northern defensive line withdrew beyond the river. The demons at the western defensive line also disappeared toward the Forest of Lamentation.
But of the three-direction simultaneous assault, only the unit from the east did not retreat.
The demon unit from the east circled around the settlement's outer perimeter and headed south.
"The eastern unit is circling south! Can anyone pursue!"
Azmariya's voice echoed across the battlefield.
But no one could move. The warriors were all utterly exhausted.
Orvan heard that voice.
(The southern edge... the stone wall.)
He alone followed that movement.
---
The southern edge of the settlement. Before the stone wall.
Orvan faced the last one.
A humanoid demon. Larger than the other individuals by a size. Its height exceeded two meters. Its red eyes stared down at Orvan.
He had no weapon left.
Orvan gripped in his right hand the shattered blade fragment he had removed from his belt.
The fragment of the short sword that had shattered on the night three years ago when he first protected something.
(I'll end it with this.)
The demon leaped at him.
Orvan raised the blade fragment and deflected it head-on.
Giiiin!!
An ear-splitting metallic sound.
The demon's body was repelled. As if it had struck an invisible wall, its massive form floated in the air and was slammed to the ground.
At the same time, in Orvan's hand, the blade fragment shattered into powder.
Sara sara—iron dust scattered into the wind.
(Seventh strike.)
Half the sensation in Orvan's right wrist was lost.
His fingers wouldn't move as he wanted. He couldn't grip with any strength.
Even so, Orvan did not collapse.
Standing before the stone wall, he watched the demon's annihilation.
The demon's body became black dust and was carried away by the wind.
---
When he returned to the settlement, the militia was tallying the damage.
Deaths: zero. Seriously wounded: three, including Puisu. The damage was kept to a minimum.
However, no one praised Orvan's deflections.
"...He used up all his weapons again, huh."
"What was that? The demons' attac
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