Bloodbound Codex: I Grow Stronger in Secret

Chapter 33: Mark

Mark stood in the middle of the ruined northern defense line.

The battlefield around him had already lost most of its formation. The ground near the center had melted from Velgrath’s first attack, broken relic fragments were scattered everywhere, and the surviving explorers were either crawling away or too injured to move properly.

Above him, Velgrath’s second Spirit Sphere continued forming.

Pale-gold Spirit gathered inside the Crowbeast’s broken-open beak and compressed layer by layer. The attack was aimed toward Ormolio’s northern wall, and if it landed, the wall would not be the only thing damaged. The nearby districts, evacuation routes, supply paths, and civilians behind the wall would all be caught in the aftermath.

Mark looked at the survivors around the battlefield.

Some were still looking at Velgrath.

Some could barely move.

Some were waiting for an order because their own judgment had already stopped working.

"Move away."

His voice was calm, but everyone nearby heard it.

No one moved at first.

Mark looked at them again.

"As far as you can."

Then he added in the same tone,

"If you remain nearby, you won’t survive the aftermath."

That sentence finally worked.

The surviving explorers began pulling one another away from the center of the battlefield. Support relic users carried those who could still be moved, while others dragged injured comrades across the heated ground despite the pain. They understood that Mark was not only warning them about Velgrath. He was warning them about the scale of the battle that was about to happen.

Far from the main battlefield, Atlas remained near the broken northern road.

The civilians and D-Rank explorers around him were still recovering from the shockwave of Velgrath’s first attack. The children cried against their mother, and the injured coachman kept muttering prayers under his breath.

Atlas barely focused on them.

His attention remained on the battlefield.

Even from this distance, Velgrath’s pressure was still clear. It was wide, heavy, and strong enough to make his body tense without seeing the monster directly. But now another presence had appeared there.

It was quieter than Velgrath’s pressure; It was...more controlled.

Atlas saw the survivors retreating from the battlefield, then saw the lone man standing under the S-Rank monster.

’Who is that?’

Atlas did not know Mark’s name or rank, but he understood one thing immediately from the reaction of the battlefield.

That man was dangerous.

Velgrath released the second Spirit Sphere.

The pale-gold sphere descended toward the defense wall. It looked slow at first because of how dense it was, but the distance disappeared almost instantly once the attack started moving.

Several surviving explorers shouted at the same time.

"The wall—!"

"Move!"

"It’s falling!"

Mark looked upward.

Then he raised one hand.

No large aura came from him. No wide-range technique spread across the battlefield. Only a small amount of Spirit gathered across his palm.

Compared to Velgrath’s attack, it looked almost too small to matter.

Then Mark stepped forward and punched the falling Spirit Sphere.

BOOOOOM

The impact shook the northern battlefield.

But the sphere did not explode outward.

It collapsed inward.

The pale-gold Spirit twisted around Mark’s fist and compressed unnaturally. The force Mark used was smaller than the attack itself, but it was applied so precisely that the sphere’s structure began breaking from the inside.

Cracks spread across its surface.

Then it shattered.

Fragments of golden Spirit scattered across the sky and dissolved before they could reach the city wall.

The wall remained standing.

The remaining explorers stared upward without speaking.

Velgrath’s pale-gold eyes narrowed.

Then the Crowbeast screamed.

The cry shook Ormolio’s outer walls. Windows shattered in distant buildings, horses collapsed near the inner roads, and several weaker civilians near Atlas covered their ears as blood flowed from their noses.

Atlas clenched his jaw.

Even from this distance, the sound made his bones vibrate.

Velgrath dove next.

Its wings spread wide as it descended toward Mark. The wind pressure reached the ground before its body did, cutting trenches across the battlefield and scattering loose debris everywhere.

Mark did not retreat.

A small burst of Spirit came from his heel.

Fwoom.

His body shifted sideways by only a few feet, avoiding Velgrath’s talons at the exact moment they struck his previous position.

Booooom.

The ground collapsed beneath the talons.

Mark had already moved before the impact fully spread.

Velgrath swept its other talon horizontally. Each claw was larger than a blade, and the force behind the movement could have cut through the broken barrier pillars behind him. Mark lifted his hand, and a thin Spirit thread wrapped around his fingers.

He flicked his wrist.

Clang.

The Spirit thread caught the edge of the talon and shifted its direction by a few inches.

That was all he needed.

The talon missed and carved through the broken structures behind him instead.

Atlas watched from the distant road.

He did not fully see Mark’s movement.

He only saw the result.

Velgrath attacked again, slamming one massive wing downward to crush Mark beneath the black feather-like armor covering it. Mark stepped inward with another small Spirit pulse and entered the narrow gap between the wing’s impact path and the ground.

Then Spirit coated his knuckles.

Only his knuckles.

Not his full arm.

Not his full body.

A thin, dense layer formed over his fist.

He punched upward.

Booooom.

Velgrath’s lower chest armor cracked.

The black feather-like plates shattered outward, and the Crowbeast’s body jerked from the impact.

What made Mark terrifying was not the amount of Spirit he used.

It was the efficiency.

Every movement had a specific purpose. Every small use of Spirit created a measurable result. He did not waste power trying to match Velgrath’s size or output. He attacked timing, balance, joints, armor gaps, and Spirit structure with exact control.

Velgrath beat its wings to regain stability.

Mark raised his forearm.

A thin Spirit line formed across it, so faint that most observers would not notice it unless they were already watching carefully.

Then he swung sideways.

Shhhk.

Several armored feathers separated cleanly and scattered through the air.

Each feather was larger than a shield, but the Spirit line cut through them without slowing.

Atlas’s breathing became uneven.

Velgrath had erased half the defense line with one attack. Mark was fighting that same monster using small amounts of Spirit, and every action still worked. He was not overpowering Velgrath with a larger blast. He was dismantling it through control.

Velgrath rose higher and screamed again.

The Qield’s Watchers moved at the same time.

Both A-Rank monsters rushed toward Mark from opposite sides while Velgrath prepared another dive from above. Whether the attack was coordinated by intelligence or caused by submission to their Boss did not matter. The result was still a three-sided attack.

Mark shifted his foot.

A small Spirit burst turned his body sideways, letting the first Watcher’s claws miss his throat by a narrow margin. At the same time, the Spirit thread around his fingers extended and hooked around the wrist of the second Watcher.

He pulled at the right moment.

The second Watcher’s momentum changed, and its body crashed directly into the path of the first Watcher’s attack.

Crash.

The two A-Rank monsters collided.

Before they recovered, Mark stepped between them.

Spirit condensed over his knuckles again.

One punch.

Boooom.

The first Watcher shot backward across the battlefield and crashed through the remains of a ruined wall.

Mark’s forearm flashed once.

One thin Spirit line.

Shhhk.

The second Watcher’s chest opened, and black blood burst outward.

Mark did not finish them.

He did not even watch them properly afterward.

They were distractions.

Velgrath dove again.

This time, its broken chest armor was still smoking from Mark’s earlier strike, and pale-gold Spirit gathered inside its beak at close range. It wanted to erase him before he could move again.

Mark finally jumped.

A small Spirit burst came from both heels.

Fwoom.

His body shot upward like a black line, cutting through the wind pressure until he reached Velgrath’s head.

For one brief moment, human and monster faced each other in the sky.

Velgrath’s pale-gold eyes burned with anger.

Mark’s expression remained calm.

Then Mark grabbed the Crowbeast’s beak.

One hand on the upper section.

One hand on the lower.

Velgrath thrashed violently. Its wings beat hard enough to tear trees from the ground, and pale-gold Spirit flickered inside its throat. Mark’s arms tensed slightly.

Only slightly.

Crack.

Velgrath’s beak fractured.

The black serrated structure cracked from base to tip as Mark crushed both sections inward with raw physical strength.

Velgrath’s scream broke halfway.

The pale-gold Spirit gathering inside its mouth collapsed and scattered across the sky in unstable fragments.

Atlas’s throat went dry.

The beak that had formed the attack capable of destroying the defense line had just been crushed by hand.

Velgrath twisted upward and tried to escape into the sky.

Mark landed on its armored back.

Then he raised his right hand.

Spirit gathered again.

Not much.

A nearly invisible blade formed from his hand.

Only twelve inches long.

Thin.

Compact.

Silent.

[ Spirit Hand Blade ]

It looked simple.

Then Mark swung.

Shhhk.

One of Velgrath’s massive wings split apart.

The cut passed through black feather armor, muscle, bone, and Spirit reinforcement without slowing.

Velgrath’s body lurched.

Mark moved again.

A small burst from his heel launched him across the monster’s back toward the other wing. Velgrath tried to twist away, but the movement came too late.

Mark’s forearm moved.

The twelve-inch Spirit blade flashed again.

Shhhk.

The second wing tore open.

It was not fully severed from the body, but it was damaged enough to break Velgrath’s balance. freewёbnoνel.com

The Crowbeast dropped from the sky and crashed into the ruined battlefield.

Booooom.

The northern region shook from the impact.

Trees collapsed, molten stone erupted upward, and several lesser monsters were crushed beneath Velgrath’s falling body.

Dust covered the battlefield.

For several seconds, nothing moved.

Then Mark landed lightly on the cracked ground.

His coat shifted faintly.

He was not breathing heavily.

His hands did not tremble.

He walked forward through the dust.

Velgrath tried to rise.

Its crushed beak hung broken, and its ruined wings twitched against the ground. Its pale-gold eyes still burned with anger, but its body no longer had the control it had shown earlier.

Mark stopped before it.

For the first time since the fight began, he spoke again.

"You are the third monster I have ever used Spirit against..."

His voice was calm.

Velgrath’s broken beak opened slightly, but only a damaged sound came out.

Mark looked down at it.

"...so be grateful for your achievement."

Far away, Atlas stood beneath the shadows of the northern road.

His breathing was shallow, and his hands trembled faintly at his sides.

It was not because of the shockwave anymore. It came from one clear realization.

He had thought Velgrath was the strongest kind of death he had ever seen.

A creature so far beyond him that even being brushed by its attack had made his current strength feel meaningless.

Yet Mark had treated that same creature like a problem.

Not a disaster.

A problem that could be solved through control, timing, and efficiency.

Atlas slowly looked down at his own hands.

The Bloodbound Codex had given him strength, Spirit, Traits, and a path to evolve.

But this world had just shown him how little that power meant when compared to someone who truly knew how to use theirs.