Kid landed right at the front lines, face to face with the leader of the seven knights of the Descendants of Dragons. They called themselves knights, but there weren't any horses in sight—not that they'd find one big enough to carry them anyway.
To the locals, Kid's arrival was nothing short of stunning. His flight was effortless, his landing graceful. He touched down without raising even a speck of dust, as if he'd landed on the tip of a leaf or a morning dew.
"Who are you? Do you know this is an Earth base? We've already negotiated with the local rulers and been granted high autonomy." Kid had told the Organization—though it wasn't exactly a negotiation. They didn't agree to anything, but he said it anyway.
"We are the Descendants of Dragons." The leader stood nearly four meters tall. His body was ripped, his face looked like it was covered by a mask, and his hair burned like short, thick flames. No lips, just exposed teeth. Tiny eyes, no nose. Between his eyes was something like a third eye—its purpose unknown.
Well damn, Kid thought. So this is the Descendants of Dragons. People on Earth called themselves descendants of dragons. These guys claimed to be the inheritors. Descendants, heirs... all part of the same circle.
"Guests from the Warfire Continent, why not lay down your weapons and relax a bit? Let us Earthlings show some hospitality. Try some of our food from Earth. I believe we're not enemies—at least not yet." One less enemy was always a good thing.
"You seem to know a lot about us."
"No no, I don't know you at all. But that doesn't stop Earthlings from being polite. We're not savages—why fight meaningless battles?"
"Leader, don't fall for it." One of the knights wasn't buying it. Kid sounded way too slick. In their eyes, unless humans had earned their trust, none of them could be trusted.
Kid felt wronged. He was trying to be friendly, but no one was biting. If they insisted on fighting, fine. Once he beat them down, that'd start a never-ending cycle of revenge, and even the Descendants of Dragons wouldn't gain anything from that.
Some people picked fights just because they thought they were the strongest. That worked only until they met someone stronger. Then it was too late for regrets. Plenty of people like that back on Core Seed Planer.
Kid waited for the Descendants of Dragons's reply.
"I'm afraid we don't have time for this. We're leaving." The Descendants of Dragons refused Kid's offer and chose to go around instead. Best not to provoke the Earthlings for now. The flames of war hadn't even settled on the Warfire Continent—no need to stir up trouble on the Test Continent with an unknown enemy.
The seven massive broadswords changed direction and continued on their path. First, they had to wipe out the Organization.
"Stay on alert. I want to be sure they're completely outside the perimeter." Mark ordered.
The Descendants of Dragons didn't pull any sneaky tricks. They kept moving northeast. They weren't here for sightseeing.
Crisis averted, Kid took a breath. Rafaela was still sleeping. He quickly took off north—there was still a battlefield up there. Maybe he'd make it in time for the final fight.
The Silver-Eyed Lion King, male Claymore ranked NO.2, was a nightmare—blazing fast, absurdly strong, the stuff of Claymore nightmares. Flora the Windcutter got taken out in an instant.
The second wave of Awakened Ones hit like a flood, full of blood and chaos. They almost crushed the entire Claymore defensive line.
Flora was dead. Clare couldn't believe it. They'd promised to survive together. After their first battle, she and Flora had crossed swords. The High-Speed Sword was better in speed and raw strength, while the Windcutter Sword had finer control and precision. They were evenly matched, admired each other.
Of course, Flora had raised a flag—"If I die, Clare takes over as leader." That flag was worse than "I'll go back home after this mission." Clare was the protagonist. And people close to the protagonist usually die for dramatic effect. Look at Irene—she was smart enough to cut off her own arm and dodged the death flag. Still alive and kicking. No doubt the smartest Claymore in the whole story.
The brutal battle kept thinning their ranks. The Silver-Eyed Lion King killed several high-ranking Claymores.
In the end, only Miria and Jean were left among the top-ranked. Clare watched the Lion King slaughter her comrades, a deep sense of helplessness washing over her.
She joined a few others in a joint attack. The Lion King blocked every strike with ease. They weren't in the same league. This Awakened One was elite among elites, mastering youki control to perfection. Combined with his combat instincts, he was a killing machine.
Clang!
Another wave of Claymore attacks got blocked. The Silver-Eyed Lion King was fast and precise. His claws were razor-sharp—he was basically this planet's Wolverine, only faster.
"Ah!"
Another Claymore was gutted, wide open, barely hanging onto life.
"More power... I need more power!" Clare was about to go half-awakened. Flora's death made her crave strength even more. The High-Speed Sword.
But the High-Speed Sword couldn't catch the Lion King. He dodged easily. No matter how strong a move was, if it didn't land, it was useless.
Clare thought to herself she needed even more speed. As long as she could catch the enemy, she could kill him with her High-Speed Sword.
Whoosh!
Boom!
The Silver-Eyed Lion King blinked. Something had just zipped past him. He turned his head and saw a wall shattered nearby, something odd lying in the rubble.
"Awakened already?" the Lion King muttered.
"Clare?!" A few Claymores who had fought beside her called out with concern. They knew Clare's youki wasn't impressive, but she had skill, and more than that, she cared deeply about her comrades. Simply put, Clare was your classic hot-blooded idiot heroine. Spend enough time with her and you'd catch her spirit, moved by her self-sacrificing courage.
"Foolish." Even as an Awakened One himself, the Lion King still had to say it when he saw a Claymore awakening right before him.
Whoosh!
The Lion King quickly dodged. The figure that burst out of the wall was fast.
"Speed. Strength." That was all Clare thought about. Her legs had awakened, bending backward like beast limbs, giving her the speed of a leopard.
Whoosh!
The Lion King felt a sharp sting on his nose—he'd been nicked. For the first time in the whole fight, after facing multiple Claymore squads without injury, he had just been scratched by someone ranked NO.47.
"This girl..." For the first time, the Lion King felt Clare's terrifying willpower. She was almost fully awakened and still clinging on. He couldn't afford to slack off either.
Whoosh!
She came again. The Lion King launched a counterattack, but his strike got blocked by her massive sword. It didn't matter though—his strength would send the weak Clare flying.
Boom!
"So fast!" Jean's eyes went wide. She was starting to struggle just keeping up with the speed of the battle.
"Jean, don't get distracted! Take out the other Awakened Ones first!" Miria shouted. They had already lost too many friends, and the battle wasn't over yet.
"Right!" Drill Sword—Jean twisted her arm like a rubber band, building up force, then released it. Her sword spun like a drill, piercing through enemies. Right now, she could twist her arm 22 times—no Awakened One could take a hit from that.
With Miria's Phantom technique backing her up, the rest of the Awakened Ones couldn't hold their ground. Only the Lion King, still dueling Clare, remained.
"This is already beyond what we can handle," Miria muttered. Her own speed had earned her the nickname Phantom, but watching Clare's half-awakened state and high-speed combat against the Lion King… she could only sigh. "Clare, it's all on you now."
Not enough. Still not enough.
Clare had the speed, but her sword was still getting countered. The Lion King wasn't just standing there taking hits—he attacked relentlessly, leaving her no room to strike back.
More blades. That's what she needed. More blades.
Swoosh—Clare's left arm awakened, transforming into three sharp blades.
"Impossible!" For the first time, the Lion King was stunned. This opponent was evolving mid-battle, closing every weakness and chasing down his strengths.
Now with four swords, he was outmatched. Facing the half-awakened Clare, face twisted with rage, the Lion King had to admit—she had surpassed him. Not just in speed or skill, but in sheer will to fight.
"What a sharp, exhilarating battle..." he muttered. The four blades slashed through him, and the Lion King went flying, torn apart in a spray of blood.