Chapter 190

The jet-black spear and the sword adorned with a purple gem collided. The aftermath of that clash alone was enough to shake the entire forest, startling the surrounding beasts into fleeing. The impact was so massive and ominous that it could be felt even in the distant imperial capital.

Lancelot, surprised that someone could withstand his sword strike head-on, offered a genuine compliment.

“Not bad for a brat. You’ve got some impressive skills.”

However, Damian, the one who received the compliment, didn’t take it to heart.

“Shut your filthy mouth. The stench of trash like you is making my nose rot.”

“…Quite the ill-mannered brat. Your skills are decent, but your attitude is arrogant, and your personality is downright filthy.”

“Don’t make me laugh, you maggot worse than trash. For someone like you to talk about others’ character and personality is like a lion discussing the taste of grass.”

“You speak as if you know me well. Yet, I don’t know you at all.”

“Then you’d better remember what I’m about to say.”

Lancelot blocked the spear suddenly thrust toward him. The speed of the spear had noticeably increased, and what he could now see were the black wings sprouting from Damian’s back.

“Dark magic, huh? And it seems you’ve mastered it quite well. So, you were fighting me with pure spear skills until now… Heh, this is getting a bit interesting.”

Lancelot smiled for the first time in a long while. Even if it was a sneer, the corners of his lips rising was a rare sight.

“So, your personality is like that because you’re a dark sorcerer. Though, you seem a bit too emotional for someone whose personality has been eroded by a demon.”

But reality once again defied Lancelot’s expectations.

“Who said I sold my personality to a demon?… I’m not foolish enough to abandon my values and emotions just for power. Unlike trash like you, who flail around like idiots.”

Lancelot, deflecting the fluid, storm-like, and light-speed barrage of spear strikes, almost dropped his sword in disbelief. He opened his mouth, genuinely shocked by the meaning behind those words.

“You lunatic… What did you give up instead of your personality…?”

“Life is about prioritizing. I simply gave up everything except the first. Something impossible for a maggot like you.”

“…You’re truly insane. Choosing a path that leads to more misery than anyone else in the world… Is it the folly of youth? Or madness born from obsession?”

“Misery, huh…”

Damian reacted strangely to the word “misery.” It was as if he had heard an unfamiliar language. He scoffed briefly before continuing.

“Do you even know what misery is?”

“What…?”

“Misery is walking the opposite path of happiness. Turning your back on the happiness you know is what makes you miserable… So, I am never miserable.”

“What nonsense are you spouting?”

“Because…”

A voice filled with loneliness and sorrow echoed.

“Since the day I was born into this world, I’ve never been happy. So, there’s no happiness for me to turn my back on. Therefore, I am never miserable.”

As Damian spoke, he left no openings in his stance. When people lie, there’s always a subtle change that creates an opening. But Damian spoke as if stating an obvious fact, neither lying nor venting emotions.

“Is that so? Then I’ll grant you the peace of death.”

Lancelot stepped back, took a stance, and swung his sword, unleashing a crimson slash. It was one of his techniques, called “Splitting Camellia Petals,” a move so powerful that even the Spirit King of Steel, known for his impenetrable defense, had fallen helplessly before it.

The slash struck Damian directly, and a deafening roar echoed as if eardrums were being torn apart.

But Damian didn’t die. His wings transformed into ominous black iron armor, allowing him to withstand the attack with only minor injuries.

“…You blocked Splitting Camellia Petals. And unlike before, when you prioritized speed, you focused on defense this time. Just how many demons have you contracted with?”

“Fewer than the number of humans you’ve killed.”

“I’m just curious. How are you feeding so many hungry demons?”

“That’s none of your business.”

The black armor Damian wore spread its wings again, and dark energy gathered at the tip of his spear.

[Descend, Sabanak’s Scythe.]

Damian’s spear transformed into a massive scythe.

“All you need to do is die.”

Damian charged at Lancelot, wielding the scythe. He had trained in all forms of weaponry and martial arts for this very moment. There was no way his attacks would miss now.

“…Hmm.”

No, they shouldn’t have. But the scythe in Damian’s hand vanished, leaving him defenseless. And Lancelot was neither careless nor merciful enough to let such an opening slip.

Damian, pierced through the abdomen, spat blood and quickly retreated to regroup.

“…You’re the little thief who betrayed my father.”

From afar, a woman approached leisurely, holding Damian’s scythe.

“Kid, it’s dangerous for a child to carry such a dangerous weapon. Let the adults handle it.”

Her identity was none other than Squar, once Werner’s comrade and a notorious thief who shook the continent.

“The stench of trash is overwhelming. I must’ve been distracted for a moment. I’ll take this wound as a lesson.”

“You’re the kid from the future, right? Seems like you didn’t get proper upbringing. If you’re from the future, shouldn’t you be giving us profitable prophecies?”

“The only prophecy I have for you is… death.”

[Crocell, Andras. Become my swords, as I command.]

Damian abandoned the scythe and created a new weapon—twin swords. Or rather, something that resembled swords. They looked like black mist or clouds, or perhaps like black flames.

“…What are those swords? I can’t steal them with my skills. I can take anything that’s a physical object.”

“That’s something for your rotten brain to ponder in the afterlife… Right now, the only thing you need to worry about is whether you’ll live or die!”

Damian swung the twin swords, clashing with the scythe Squar held.

**Boom!**

With a sound like splitting rocks, the scythe in Squar’s hand turned to ash and vanished.

“…That was a pretty good weapon…”

“No matter how great a weapon is, it’s meaningless in the hands of trash like you.”

“My, how harsh. Then I guess I’ll have to fight with my own weapon.”

Squar pulled out a deck of cards and began shuffling. It was clear she wasn’t suggesting a friendly card game—this was a deadly move.

“…You’re all gathering here, huh? Doesn’t matter if it’s two or three pieces of trash. I don’t care.”

Damian cursed into the empty air, and soon, a mocking laugh filled with scorn echoed.

“My, I was quietly waiting for an opportunity to strike from behind~. I must’ve underestimated you. Trying to deceive a demon who’s sacrificed everything—his lifespan, his body—to become a warrior… Overconfidence is truly a sin. I’ll reflect on this…”

“Wow, what a parade of flashy trash. A maggot pretending to be an elf, a traitor who betrayed her comrades, and a harlot who deceives everyone from the start.”

“My, calling a lady a harlot is quite rude.”

The woman who revealed herself was breathtakingly beautiful. Her beauty was almost otherworldly, like an angel descended to earth. But behind that angelic face lurked a sinister aura that sent shivers down the spine.

“Saintess… No, you don’t deserve that title. Guinevere of the Black Round Table, Media.”

“My, saying such things to a saintess could get you charged with blasphemy and sentenced to death, you know?”

Damian glared at the three enemies surrounding him: Media, Lancelot, and Squar. Each was a powerhouse worthy of being called the strongest. Injured and facing all three, it was the worst possible situation. But Damian spoke calmly.

“Lucky me. I can clean up all you trash at once.”

[It’s time for a deal. Take a part of my soul and give me power.]

[Hundred Demons’ Night Parade.]