Chapter 86

He lets out an astonishing sound.

“Hmph. Such childish talk.”

“Huh?”

“If I was the kind to be swayed by such words, then I wouldn’t have prepared myself to oppose the world in the first place.”

There’s no waver in his gaze.

“No… ”

It’s true, you lunatic.

Separate from the fiery rage bubbling over due to various events…

This sense of injustice—how should I even begin to resolve it? For a moment, I nearly lost my mind.

“His intellect was remarkable, but honing that into physical prowess is an entirely different domain. What has reduced you to this state?”

“….”

I’m tired of talking.

Just.

“….”

Not a single inch does he yield.

Not yielding at all.

The grandeur of Grandoeus.

For instance, whether he understands our swordsmanship and techniques or if he’s familiar with counter-methods—I can’t tell—but.

…It’s not easy.

Neither losing control of his center nor controlling direction and angles to reverse force seems possible.

Even mana dissipates like extinguished fire upon contact, leaving only faint traces behind.

Though I don’t know about pure physical ability, at least it mustn’t be inferior to mine.

And.

If the Demon King spoke of opposing elements, perhaps there’s a gap that mere skill can’t overcome.

I’ve come to realize this through direct confrontation.

It’s not overwhelming power.

Then?

“Kruuugh!”

Without realizing it, my ankle gets pierced by a spear tip.

Somehow managing to withdraw my foot just in time, but as the ground itself splits and tries to slice me, I block with my sword.

Instead of raising both hands this time, Bettyta sweeps outward in an arc, using centrifugal force from a bent wrist to deflect the spear blade barely grazing the ground.

Had I been any slower, either my leg, ankle, or entire body would’ve been slashed or pierced clean through.

But this was merely the beginning.

With great sweeping motions, he charges forward like a dot ignoring inertia.

My eyes missed everything.

Responding purely on instinct, speculation, and finely-honed reflexes.

Yet it wasn’t enough.

Swoosh!

Only after feeling the bitter sting do I realize I’ve been cut.

Not only has my robe been torn, but my skin and flesh have been shredded too; blood loss only registering after the pain kicks in.

Even while moving so intensely, noticing the wound took far longer than it should’ve. How pathetic.

“Your body seems unbalanced. Your will and consciousness are ahead, but your body lags by more than one beat. So, you haven’t consistently trained your body over long periods, have you?”

While I catch my breath, he coolly scrutinizes me with bright white eyes.

“It doesn’t make sense. Not a bit.”

He points his pitch-black spear with one hand and asks.

“What trickery brought you to this state? Did you perhaps make a pact with a demon?”

“…Have you ever heard of someone who treats demons as trivial gold nuggets?”

“….”

Before I could even realize it…

I find myself gazing up at the sky.

“Huh…?”

What…?

I feel the hard ground against my back.

It’s not just that.

A pitch-black spear looms before my eyes.

The eerie black smoke curling off it makes it clear—it’s no ordinary weapon.

In short, I’ve been forcibly laid down by him.

Without even realizing I’d been defeated.

‘So this is what being antithetical means.’

No matter how skilled I may be.

If something surpasses and transcends the limits of what I can comprehend and handle…

…I’m powerless against it too.

Even the countless cavalry charges and endless arrow storms I faced in dreams had some room for preparation.

But this felt like there was absolutely no chance for readiness or strategy.

Plainly put, I’ve been outclassed in agility, mobility, and quickness.

And not just that.

Without any hope of catching up or matching him in combat.

Crushed utterly.

“Do you have any last words?”

“….”

Life is another form of hell.

Every breath felt like hell.

There were probably times when it wasn’t like this too.

But now, perhaps because I’ve spent too much time writhing in flames, nothing comes to mind.

“….”

Indeed.

Is this my death?

Am I supposed to accept this fate willingly?

“Speak up.”

“…What do you want me to say?”

“None of your business, shut your mouth.”

“….”

I don’t know why.

That dull-witted legion commander, the pale man, Barg Adedima.

At the boy’s fierce shout, he instinctively flinched.

“Am I destined to die here?”

Gazing upward at the sky, void.

To whom? Toward what?

“Let’s see if your vaunted wisdom can foresee this. You ignoramus who didn’t even know Grandoeus’ sword was a sacred blade, why don’t you boastfully babble once more?”

“….”

Is this guy seeing something I can’t?

Something invisible to us?

‘Grandoeus’ sword, that Elbat, is a sacred blade?’

Never heard of it.

Though it’s said he wandered the Demon Realm slaying many demons with that sword, how could anyone guess it was a sacred blade?

From the start, the sword he held was surrounded by darkness darker than pitch black.

Not even a trace of light could reflect off it or shine through it.

Could that dark and oppressive sword really be our natural enemy—a sacred blade?

“….”

Is that thing?

Right now, lying prone on the ground, cracked, rusted, layered with sand and dust.

It looks like it might break apart at any moment, utterly worthless.

“Maybe someday I’ll regret this choice.”

The spear tip slowly advances toward his neck.

“I cannot repeat the same mistake…”

Just as the spear tip is about to press against Carriel’s neck, he suddenly pulls it back.

Rather, he swings it.

“Kheh!”

Something seems to get hit, and he’s thrown back quickly.

“You damn brat…!”

Venus.

“Still unbelievable physical prowess, huh.”

Despite bleeding profusely, his savage and explosive aura remains unchanged.

…Almost admirable.

“So, you intend to stop me? If you want to die, why not jump off somewhere or stab yourself with that sword?”

Uaaaaah!

Somewhere, a scream erupts.

Though unseen, it feels like they’re under attack too.

“I’m here to leave irreversible marks.”

The focal point of the remnants.

The final legion commander, Barg, declared this.

“To kill Rueld’s child means exactly that.”

“….”

“Didn’t you also want to kill him?”

“I plan to knock him down, not kill him. That’s a secondary concern. Damn demon brat.”

“Hmm.”

He aims the spear at Carriel again.

Carriel thought about getting up, but knowing he’d likely get impaled instantly if Venus intended to, he refrained.

Not out of cowardice, but because his intuition told him it wasn’t the right choice.

“Surprising. You’re not resisting and accepting this unfair death willingly?”

“Haa.”

Too much talking.

Blah blah blah.

Endless chatter.

“It’s not that… I was just zoning out.”

“…What?”

“How long has it been?”

He removes the spear tip.

“?”

How?

Barg watches Carriel with incomprehensible eyes.

From afar, he’s struggling to stand up.

“Cough!”

Despite trying to rise as quickly as possible, it was still too slow.

Even though he escaped death, he coughs up copious amounts of blood, as if suffering from severe internal injuries.

“….”

Feels like I’m dying.

Why… didn’t the Demon King prevent me from thrashing around in dreams?

My body had already reached its limit.

Long ago.

To begin with, this body isn’t in any condition to attempt anything now.

The Demon King cleverly kept me balanced on the edge of a cliff.

Now I understand why he emphasized mastering Elbat and building my body.

‘I was dying all along.’

The reasons for death aren’t limited to just one.

The constriction of my life force is one reason for death.

Forcing this unstable body to move is another reason for death.

…Well, if I start listing reasons, there’s no end to them.

Like what I see before me now—someone hating me just because I’m someone’s child.

Or someone else fearing my unknown past and wanting to eliminate me….

“Strange.”

Can people change this drastically within seconds?

Barg was confused and bewildered.

Someone who seemed fine moments ago is now spitting blood and dying.

Yet something…

Their aura, their presence, has completely transformed from before.

‘However.’

What’s the point of this?

Enough of this nonsense.

As soon as he firmly gripped his spear, Venus immediately launched herself, but he was already gone.

Swinging her sword through empty air, she swiftly turns her gaze toward Carriel.

‘This way?!’

Are you serious? Making me endure this humiliation?!

You damn bastard! This damn bastard!

Everything’s going haywire?!

Kaang!

The clash reverberates like thunder.

Simultaneously.

“Hm?!”

Barg’s figure is abruptly sent flying.

As if he barely managed to dodge a counterattack.

“…Hmph.”

On the contrary, Carriel, who was supposed to have been struck, sighs instead.

In the process, blood flows from his nose, and his bloodshot eyes seem ready to burst at any moment.

‘What did he do?’

Venus suddenly feels uneasy.

Could this kid intentionally amplify physical abilities like Venus herself?

Or did he learn it during their brief clash?

‘Impossible.’

That can’t be accepted.

Even the heavens won’t forgive me for such unfairness.

Such absurdity.

How dare he.

“Cough!”

However, Carriel’s current state looks extremely dire.

Continuously coughing up blood.

“Damn.”

Missed the perfect opportunity.

It might’ve been the first and last chance.

Such an opportunity.

“Remarkable.”

Venus saw it.

The black blood flowing from Barg’s arm.

Contrasting sharply with his pale skin, the blood coursing inside him is pitch black.

The problem isn’t that.

How did that kid manage to land a blow on someone who had been dominating him?

If it were Venus herself, there are several methods, but her current condition isn’t optimal either.

She had taken medication before the two clashed, but its effects weren’t immediate.

“Endlessly slow. Yet, why was retaliation possible?”

“….”

Breathing heavily.

Carriel regards the exclamations and admiration as nonsense, glaring with obvious irritation.

“1891 times.”

“Hm?”

“The number of times I died to you in my dreams.”

Actually, it might’ve been more.

Or fewer.

Who knows precisely.

Just blabbing.

The count could vary by hundreds, or less.

“That’s why… I’m pissed.”

Reality is always like this.

Because things never go as planned.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying, but it sounds like you gave it your all. I respect that. Knight.”

“Shut up.”

Don’t call me a knight in front of me.

Even that complaint got blocked by the blood and bile rising in my throat.

“Ughhh―!”

“Looks like you’ll die soon even if I leave you alone. But that wouldn’t be honorable, so let me grant you a swift end.”

“Well done….”

It’s getting hard to even hold my sword.

So visibly weak that even the observer can tell.

Precarious.

“Think of nothing and close your eyes peacefully.”

He had already reached the brink.

Time seemed to freeze, unbearably slow and drawn-out.

It felt like this moment would never end.

‘This is…’

They say time slows down and memories flood back when facing death.

Ah, they called it a “life flashing before your eyes.”

But why?

Nothing comes to mind.

Nothing arises in this static-filled, frozen world.

I’ve been abandoned even by myself.

Nothing to reflect on, repent for, or regret.

It’s not coming back now.

‘Something…’

Wasn’t there something?

There was, right?

…Is this really the end?

….

“Chug!”

My legs give out, and I collapse.

Instinctively trying to lodge my sword into the ground, but it slips, and I fall.

….

But.

I didn’t die.

The blurry sky remained, but perhaps the sun was rising.

Yet the shadows falling over me were strangely vivid.

“Would’ve been a disaster if I had arrived any later?”

…Truly beautiful and delicate voice, yet.

The barrier erected by it feels impenetrable.

“And you?”

Barg raises his pale eyes in surprise.

What is this?

A human woman.

Blue eyes, golden hair.

So delicate that extending a hand could snap her in two.

Even among demons, he considers himself frail, but this woman appears equally fragile compared to him.

Except for the fact that she’s female.

There’s a definite gap between male and female physical capabilities.

No matter how skillfully one manipulates mana, innate limitations suppress their potential.

But.

What is this?

Why can’t I handle her?

“Ashett. You crazy woman…!”

From somewhere, a voice mentions a familiar name.

“Yeah. Ashett. Arathra, Aiseus. Call me Dryg or Endragon or Endrake, whichever suits you. Got it? Yeah. This is for you. You.”

She chants melodiously like singing a song.

Yet her grip on the sword remains perfectly precise, relentlessly holding back Barg’s spear without a single error.

She gazes directly at the pale man before her while softly reciting.

“Barg Adedima. Our first meeting, right? Final Legion Commander?”

“You.”

He’s heard of her.

The Relief Knights.

The second blade among them.

Known as the Redeemers in their faction.

Self-proclaimed Redemption Knights.

But this woman uses her affiliation merely as a label, showing no particular attachment or affection for it.

Above all, what made her famous wasn’t her noble lineage.

Not because she came from royalty far away.

“Daemon of the Lake.”

“Word got around that far? It’s embarrassing, so I try not to mention it.”

Smiling brightly, she pushes forward.

Being pushed back.

Unable to resist.

…What sorcery is this?

It feels like an iron wall pushing forward with intent.

The helplessness felt while wrestling with a Colossus.

“Choose one of two options. Will you let yourself be captured quietly, or hand over that head of yours?”

“Do you think you can, human?”

“Just now you called me a demon.”

The moment he felt himself being pushed back.

“Uh?!”

A gust of sword wind slashes through.

Barg reacts instantly, agilely countering.

Though he blocks it,

His palms tingle from the aftermath.

“Beyond rumors.”

Needless to say, the speed is unmatched.

The strength behind each sword strike is weighty.

Had he not been properly prepared, his spear would’ve been forced back, slicing through his torso.

Each swing was clearly intended to do so, yet repeated continuously in a storm-like cascade of strikes, recreating a veritable tempest of steel.

“You’re still blocking this. Very impressive. My arms hurt a little; shall we take a short break?”

Saying this, she delivers the same continuous strikes.

Swinging and thrusting, one becomes two, two become three, four, and so on.

It’s like blossoming petals scattering in the wind, dispersing the blade.

“You’re still blocking. More impressive than expected…”

Kaang!

She blocks.

Even the dozens of piercing strikes unleashed by Barg.

The pitch-black shadow splits into dozens of fragments, but she counters them all in an instant, sealing his final desperate thrust.

“My arms hurt, I said. Let’s rest for a moment, alright?”

Her expression remains unchanged.

Yet her eyes smile.

Rejoicing like she’s humming a tune, her smiling face radiates madness born from battle.

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