Frontline Empress-Chapter 84: Scythe and Daggers vs Greatsword

The Blinded were once human. Not warriors, not mystics—just simple farmers tending to their crops in the valleys of the Sunbolt Mountains, long before the land had even earned its name. Their lives were quiet, their futures predictable. But fate had no interest in letting them remain that way.

It began with a single man. A young warrior, a beacon of promise, a man destined for greatness. Until a god took notice.

The reason? Forgotten. The crime? Perhaps nonexistent. But the punishment was absolute.

His eyes were stolen.

Not burned, not wounded—simply gone, as if they had never been there at all. The world turned to darkness, but the god was not satisfied. When the young man finally stumbled his way back home, guided only by the kindness of strangers, he returned not to solace, but to despair.

His village had been cursed as well.

One by one, their sight was stripped from them. Some could not bear it. The weak took their own lives, unable to endure the sudden, suffocating void that had swallowed their world. Others persisted, adapting as best they could, relying on sound, touch, and scent to navigate what had once been familiar.

Generations passed.

The weak continued to fall. The strong endured. Over time, their senses sharpened beyond those of ordinary humans, their hearing keener, their awareness of the world stretching past the limits of those who could still see. They became something different, something more.

And then, a boy was born.

He was unlike the others. He did not merely adapt—he transcended.

While the rest of The Blinded sharpened their remaining senses, this boy moved as though he could still see. He walked without hesitation, caught objects thrown at him without effort, reacted to the world with an awareness beyond explanation. It was not simple adaptation. It was something greater.

The village recognized him for what he was: the next step in their evolution. He became their leader, guiding them into an era where their blindness was no longer a weakness, but a gift. He had children, and they too carried his ability. And their children found love and bore children of their own. And so it continued, generation after generation, until The Blinded as a whole were no longer merely humans who had lost their sight. They were something new.

But that first boy—the one who started it all—what did he become?

He had power beyond any of his kin. With it, he could have shaped their future in any way he wished. Did he rule with kindness? Did he forge them into warriors? Did he seek vengeance on the god that had cursed them?

No one living knows the answer.

But what is known is this: his legacy remains. The Blinded are still here, still strong, still thriving.

And wherever he walked, whatever choices he made—he led them to become something greater than fate had intended.

...

(Back on the battlefield)

Mabbel's form dispersed into shadows again, but this time she reappeared—not behind him, but above.

And she wasn't alone.

Dozens of shadow clones rippled into existence around her, each wielding their own scythes, each poised for an attack.

Bhanun's eyes narrowed.

The air tensed.

And then, all at once—they struck.

Suddenly, Bhanun's aura twisted, its fiery orange glow dissolving into a dense gray mist that poured from his skin. The battlefield warped as it spread, and then—Mabbel's senses shattered.

Her ears smelled. Her nostrils saw. Her eyes felt. Every sense twisted, flipping in ways that defied logic. The sheer dissonance sent a shock through her body, her limbs locking up as if her very instincts had been rewritten. Her attack faltered. The shadow clones collapsed into ink-like wisps, retreating to her feet. Her scythe flickered, her grip on reality slipping—

And Bhanun swung.

The greatsword descended, an executioner's blade set to split her in two—

SHING. CLANG.

Mabbel forced herself to look up. Two daggers. Small, glinting, held in hands that trembled under the sheer force of Bhanun's strike. Tridra.

Her arms shook violently, her muscles straining to keep the greatsword from burying itself into Mabbel's skull. The sheer pressure looked as though it would tear Tridra's limbs from their sockets, but—somehow, by some miracle—she redirected the blade.

The greatsword slammed into the dirt, splitting the ground. Dust and snow kicked up in a violent shockwave. Tridra exhaled, sweat beading at her forehead.

"Let me help."

A jolt of nausea rocked through Mabbel's gut as her senses snapped back into place. Reality realigned, every sense slotting into its rightful position, but the whiplash left her stomach turning. She gritted her teeth, shaking it off.

No time for weakness.

Bhanun was already moving, swinging his sword in a low, brutal arc. Mabbel reacted on instinct, her scythe twisting mid-motion, its shadows solidifying against the steel. A redirect, not a block. The momentum carried the greatsword sideways, just barely missing her.

But the mist—it was growing.

It seeped outward, tendrils creeping along the ground. Bandits and Gloomtaurs alike—any who touched it collapsed instantly, clutching their heads, convulsing, dry-heaving as their senses twisted against them.

Mabbel's grip tightened.

She caught Tridra's collar, yanking her back.

"That mist will rewire all your senses for a few seconds." Her voice was sharp, commanding. "I didn't even inhale, but touching it was enough. Don't go near it."

Tridra's expression hardened. "Then how are we supposed to beat him?"

Mabbel's eyes flickered to Tridra's daggers.

"I can extend my weapon to hit him out of range, but..." Her voice trailed off.

Tridra followed her gaze, then met Mabbel's stare.

Neither had to say it.

They turned back to Bhanun.

He was walking toward them, slowly. The mist billowed from his body like smoke from an open furnace, swallowing the ground beneath his boots. Another Bandit soldier strayed too close—instantly, the man fell, his body writhing, his stomach lurching as he gagged on nothing.

Mabbel acted first. She vanished.

A blur of darkness, she reappeared behind Bhanun, scythe already mid-swing. The blade elongated, stretching out like a whip of black steel.

But Bhanun—he didn't even look.

His free hand shot up. He caught the scythe's blade between two fingers.

Mabbel's breath hitched. No.

With a jerk of his wrist, he yanked. Hard.

Mabbel lurched forward, her feet nearly leaving the ground. She twisted at the last second, letting go of the scythe's handle—only for her own shadow to fling it back into her grip. She flipped midair, landing just in time to see Tridra move.

The rogue lunged. A flicker of silver. Her daggers gleamed, and in an instant, she carved three runes into her literal leg.

Haste. Weightless.

Her body blurred forward, her speed quadrupling as she became a flash of motion.

The sourc𝗲 of this content is freēwēbηovel.c૦m.

Bhanun swung instinctively, his greatsword carving a massive arc. But Tridra was already gone.

She reappeared behind him—then disappeared again.

Mabbel's eyes caught it—a pattern. She wasn't attacking. She was carving. Just outside of the mist's range.

The dirt beneath Bhanun's boots—sigils burned into the soil.

Bhanun noticed too late. His foot stepped into the marked space—

BOOM.

The Rune of Explosions detonated. An eruption of force sent him staggering, his balance shifting for the briefest instant—

And that was all Mabbel needed.

She dashed forward, shadows trailing behind her. Her scythe shrieked through the air, expanding once more—but this time, it didn't just aim to cut.

It coiled.

Like a noose of darkness, the weapon twisted around Bhanun's greatsword, snaking up his wrist. Mabbel yanked, forcing his arm wide, opening his guard—

Tridra was already moving.

She kicked off a rune-marked stone, using the Weightless sigil to launch herself like a projectile. She spun midair, dagger flashing—

Bhanun's free hand lashed out to intercept.

But Mabbel's scythe tightened.

A second yank—his balance broke.

Tridra slipped through the opening, tossing her dagger through the mist, which it then sank into his shoulder.

For the first time, Bhanun grunted in pain.

Mabbel twisted, pulling harder. Bhanun staggered once more, and that was when Tridra exploded through the mist and carved again.

A rune—right onto his armor.

Explosion.

She pushed off him, flipping backward as the sigil ignited.

BOOM.

Bhanun was flung back, his boots dragging trenches into the dirt. His mist recoiled, then surged outward in retaliation. Mabbel dashed towards Tridra and pulled her away in time, avoiding the spreading cloud.

Tridra instantly puked up her guts but quickly snapped back to reality as she shook off the disorienting powers of the mist.

Bhanun loosened himself, rolling his shoulder. A single line of blood trailed down his arm, but his face remained unreadable.

Then, he grinned.

"Not bad."

The mist thickened, spiraling around him, stretching out in longer tendrils.

Mabbel tightened her grip.

Tridra flipped a dagger in her palm.

And then they attacked again.

Mabbel lunged first, her scythe extending mid-strike, its curved blade arcing toward Bhanun's ribs. He twisted, angling his greatsword in a tight parry. Steel clashed, the force of the block rattling her arms. Before she could recoil, his free hand shot forward. She ducked under the punch and trailing mist, her scythe retracting as she slid past his flank.

Tridra was already moving. A flick of her wrist sent one dagger slashing toward Bhanun's side. He spun his greatsword like a shield, deflecting the strike, but Tridra had already carved a rune into the hilt of her remaining blade.

Haste.

The rune glowed as she blurred forward, slipping inside his guard. Her dagger flashed, aimed for his throat. Bhanun barely managed to shift, the blade grazing his shoulder instead. He retaliated with a horizontal swing, but Mabbel was back, scythe sweeping low. He had no choice but to leap, the edge of her weapon slicing through his boot.

While Mabbel swapped in, Tridra who had flashed past the Bandit King fell to her knees, feeling her senses once again swap. She grunted and winced, feeling even worse than the last time she touched the mist.

Yet, at that moment, she felt something else. An idea.

Suddenly, her eyes glowed a dim pink and in her mind, charmed somebody.

Herself.

By charming herself into immediately adjusting to the rearranged senses, she could potentially cancel the effect out. However, at the same time, she knew very well the consequences that came with charming herself.

Mabbel followed up. She planted a foot against her scythe's handle, launching herself upward. Twisting mid-air, she brought the blade down in a sharp vertical slash. Bhanun raised his sword to block, but Tridra was already at his back.

She carved another rune—Weightless—onto the ground beneath her. The instant it activated, she soared upward unnaturally fast, flipping over Bhanun's head. As she descended, she drove both daggers downward. He shifted just in time, her blades barely scraping against his armor.

He didn't hesitate. As she landed, she realized her plan had worked. Her senses rearranged for a moment, but the charm she had placed on herself quickly snapped her senses back.

Soon, the man's foot cut off that small win with a brutal kick. Tridra twisted, absorbing the impact with her arms, rolling with the momentum instead of resisting. She hit the ground, dagger already carving another rune.

Mabbel seized the opening. Shadows erupted from the ground, latching onto Bhanun's limbs. He tensed, muscles flexing, breaking free, but that second of delay was enough. Mabbel was on him, scythe spinning in rapid arcs. The flurry forced him back, each strike faster than the last.

Bhanun roared, his new Aura flaring. The mist thickened, swirling outward. The moment it touched Mabbel's leg, her vision fractured. Her ears buzzed with phantom scents, her skin prickled with unheard sounds.

She leapt away, snapping her focus back just in time to see Bhanun's sword carving toward her.

Tridra intercepted.

Her daggers, small in comparison, caught the massive blade. It should have been impossible. The sheer weight behind the strike should have torn her arms apart. But Tridra's daggers weren't normal—they weren't just metal.

The rune she had carved into them moments ago glowed faintly.

Explosive.

The instant Bhanun's sword connected, the force rebounded as both of Tridra's daggers exploded outwards. His own attack redirected downward, his blade slamming into the dirt. The ground split, but Tridra was already moving. She twisted away, hand snapping toward Mabbel's collar, yanking her out of range of the mist.

"Careful," Tridra muttered.

Mabbel looked at the woman for a moment, seeing Tridra's eyes beginning to bleed. "You... what's wrong with you?"

"If I go down, I'll place the same charm I put on myself, on you, but right now... this is my limit. I can only have it on myself, but you should be fine..." She muttered.

They turned back to Bhanun. He stalked forward, mist curling around his form. Soldiers—his own men and Mabbel's alike—continued to collapse as they brushed against it, bodies convulsing, choking on nonexistent air.

Mabbel adjusted her grip on her scythe. "We end this before it spreads."

Bhanun surged forward.

Mabbel spun her scythe in a tight arc, sweeping low. The blade elongated mid-motion, reaching for his legs. He jumped, but Tridra was already in his blind spot. She slammed a dagger into the ground—another rune.

Explosive.

The blast erupted beneath Bhanun's feet, throwing him off balance. Mabbel capitalized. She dashed in, her scythe reforming into twin long blades, each slashing in opposite directions. He managed to block one, but the second cut through his side.

Blood splattered, but he didn't falter. His greatsword lashed out, forcing Mabbel to disengage. Tridra flipped over him again, carving another rune mid-air.

Haste.

She landed behind him, her speed doubling in an instant. Her daggers became a flurry, aiming for every exposed spot. Bhanun turned just in time, but even his enhanced reflexes couldn't stop every strike. Cuts formed across his arms, his chest, his cheek.

Mabbel launched forward again. She planted her scythe's butt into the ground, using it as a pivot to vault over him. Mid-flip, her weapon morphed back into a single curved blade, striking downward.

Bhanun roared, mist bursting outward, but this time it was different. It instantly curled back in towards him and seemingly seeped into his skin.

"Do you know why you were able to kill The Blinded so easily?" Bhanun asked Mabbel, voice like a rumbling volcano.

Mabbel froze as she felt a shiver shoot down her spine. Tridra also froze for a moment as the man took a single step forward, and the mist began to wrap around his limbs and face. And from behind the mist that covered his face, a demonic smile shone through, followed by a single gratingly ugly voice...

"It was because I wasn't there."