Chapter 250
Chapter 250
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.55 – Since a Knight Does Not Speak Lies (5)
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...Why was it so easy to imagine what his current expression looked like?
'It must be stiff and rigid.'
And sure enough.
"That's a scary face you've got there."
"I'm under threat. Not exactly a situation to smile about."
"Fair enough. But aren't you being a bit too decisive? There could be some misunderstanding, you know."
"Could be."
"Yet you're not hesitating at all."
"That's the funny part."
Despite his words claiming it was amusing, Lee Han's face showed no hint of a smile as he raised his sword.
"-Spilling out that much killing intent, and you talk about misunderstandings? What kind of culture is that?"
As far as he knew, this was the second time.
A prickling chill!
The second time facing such intense 'killing intent'.
'Different in quality from that spear guy.'
This assessment might sound like strange logic at first, but the spear wielder, Rack de Duran, had pure killing intent.
It might carry the will to kill, but the aura was pristine like morning dew, heavy yet noble, never lowly or repulsive.
But this was different.
'This is filthy.'
Rotten water, or the stench of a decaying corpse.
An intense killing intent laced with such odors emanated from the man's body, making Lee Han's entire body tingle.
Just facing the killing intent made his skin hurt—what kind of nonsense was this?
"Image change at your age must be tough."
"Haha, isn't the path of challenge open to everyone, no matter their age?"
"My bad question, and your wise answer."
"I've just lived a bit longer, so I'm slightly wiser."
Iliad still spoke in his polite tone, and Lee Han responded in his usual manner, but those watching could sense it.
A powder keg ready to explode.
The suffocating air, heavy as thick fog, permeated the space—ready for anything to happen at any moment.
In that situation.
"Oh, right. Forgot about this—congrats."
"Pardon?"
"Your leg. It's standing nice and steady now."
So, he apologized in advance.
"Let's start by cutting off that leg."
Whoosh!
Lee Han kicked off like the crack of a starting gun, swinging his sword at Iliad's lower body without a shred of hesitation.
...Levi didn't see it.
Boom!
She didn't see when her master moved or drew his sword.
It was that swift a strike, and the fact that such a massive body could move so nimbly was astonishing.
Thus...
Clang!
"...He blocked it?!"
The sight of that strike being effortlessly blocked felt somehow surreal.
As if he'd foreseen exactly where the blade would come from and blocked it as a matter of course, with utter nonchalance.
But her master was her master, and true to form.
Bang-!
He swung his sword as if to say, 'Go ahead and block it,' and each time, flashes of light streaked through the air with whooshing sounds.
Yet every time.
"Well, well. Terrifying."
The opponent blocked and parried her master's sword.
Not with some heavy weapon, but with a feather-light rapier.
...Was that even possible?
As a fencer herself, Levi knew.
A rapier couldn't be used that way.
It was for speed and counters, not blocking a much larger opponent—like a fox stopping a bear's paw.
Yet how...?
"...Father's 'Willow Sword'."
"?"
"It calculates the opponent's movements, stance, subtle body shifts, and even the flow of their momentum to effortlessly deflect even the mightiest strikes."
"Is that... even possible?"
"I don't know. But... Father could do it."
No matter the size difference, no matter how strong or fast the opponent's power, it computed everything in an instant, twisting the force just right and deflecting the blade by a paper-thin margin—a near-divine swordsmanship.
A technique permitted only to Iliad, the kingdom's greatest sword genius in history, with no one but the once-genius Blake Duke able to imitate it.
"Even Blake Duke admitted he could only imitate it, not fully replicate it. A swordsmanship allowed only to Father."
"......"
Gulp...
They say.
A genius is one who overwhelms all with talent, dazzling and captivating everyone.
...Spot on.
Even in this life-or-death moment, Levi couldn't hide her admiration, shock, and thrill.
Iliad's swordsmanship displayed a pinnacle of skill she could never reach, no matter how hard she tried.
However.
"...But from where I'm standing, that uncle's body looks weird. Joints are off, and bones seem thicker."
"......"
"Arno... is that okay?"
"...Hm."
Arno couldn't hold back a groan at Kunta's sharp observation, which he couldn't deny.
As his son, such an assessment was disrespectful, but even the once-genius Iliad shouldn't overwhelm the instructor this easily.
It wasn't that Iliad was weak; it was a cold evaluation because the instructor was inhumanly strong.
Yet now.
'Like he's got springs or rubber bands in his joints.'
Just as Kunta said.
Iliad's body stretched like rubber and rebounded like a spring.
His skeleton too—unlike his once-mortal frame despite heavenly talent—now looked like it'd been injected with iron rods and drugs for decades of transformation, and the changes were...
Crunch!
Becoming ever more pronounced.
"...I have to admit it."
Grind...
Arno clenched his teeth, accepting it with blood in his mouth.
His father, Iliad de Oppen...
"Has become a... demonic human."
A scourge on humanity.
A monster in human form that must be slain.
"Damn it..."
Arno spat curses at the reality that his father had to die, tears streaming down his face.
It was a cruelly wretched reality.
A phenomenon where even a farmer who's never held a sword gains strength equal to dozens of knights.
People call it 'demonic humanization'.
By eating monster flesh and becoming addicted, one gains inhuman power, becoming a [demonic human].
Some say.
With such immense power, isn't becoming a demonic human a convenient tool? Couldn't it benefit humanity if used right?
...Impossible.
Make no mistake: from the moment one becomes a demonic human, they are humanity's 'arch-enemy'.
Why?
- Demonic humans instinctively devour people, showing no aversion to it.
Loss of humanity.
They come to enjoy cannibalism and slaughtering kin, even attacking and feasting on family they once cherished.
Memories intact, morals known, yet they shatter them as easily as eating a meal.
Thus, demonic humans are classified as 'monsters'.
No longer human, having crossed an irreversible river.
Therefore.
"I must kill Father. ...Isn't that right, Grandmother?"
Whoosh.
Arno wiped his tears, steadying his emotions, and glanced beside him.
Not sensing her presence, but assuming she was there as a matter of course—and sure enough.
"......"
She was there at some point.
With a deeply sunken gaze, unlike her usual self.
And she.
"What are you doing here? You should've trusted this old lady and stayed at the estate."
Scolded her grandson coldly, but instead of apology—which would've come first normally—Arno retorted.
"Forgive me, but while you're an incredible swordmaster, as a person, you have many disqualifications. If I left it to you, it'd take over a year."
"That's too harsh."
"Harsh, yes, but am I wrong?"
"......"
...No excuse came to mind.
After all, if Sword Sage Felicia had willed it, Iliad should've died long ago.
Yet he still lived—
"You intended to subdue Father, Grandmother..."
Meaning she'd deliberately spared him.
At those words.
"......"
...She gave silent affirmation, her eyes filled with sorrow.
"-I'm sorry."
Felicia's apology carried many meanings.
Sorry for not helping when the family fell into ruin.
Thanks for normalizing the family despite her absence—wrapped in apology.
And.
"It became like this because I was so pathetic..."
...Apology for her own incompetence.
She offered that apology, and Arno shook his head.
"No need to apologize. It wasn't your intention, was it, Grandmother?"
"......"
"Besides, Father..."
"...When I first found him, he was already like that."
"......"
Felicia spoke calmly, but Arno could tell she was holding back deep emotions.
"Yes, when I first found him, the demonic humanization had already progressed, and I had to choose. Subdue him, or..."
Kill him.
But foolishly, her choice was.
"I chose the former..."
They say.
For an Aura User, subduing someone isn't hard.
Not wrong. Subduing one person is easy.
...However.
"I forgot my child was once called the [Sword Saint]."
Iliad wasn't some easily subdued swordsman.
Already in his twenties, a peerless swordsman even in Pendragon—now with demonic human power added.
Heaven-sent talent fused with earth-shaking physical prowess.
From that moment, 'subduing' was out of the question.
...Killing was the only answer.
"Of course, with four days, I could've subdued him somehow. But now... what's the point of subduing him?"
"Grandmother..."
"...He's no longer human."
Vmmm!
An ominous hum spread from her sword.
The moment she resolved to kill, the sword resonance rang out with an intensity no knight had ever produced.
With her grandson's arrival steeling her resolve, no hesitation remained in her blade.
Because he was family, her only son...
"Better to dirty my hands than let another do it."
Felicia steeled herself.
To send off her child.
Lest he, stripped of humanity, harm people, and one day even turn on her grandson.
That wouldn't be her son's wish, so for his sake, Felicia firmly...
"-Please stay out of it. Things go wrong when you butt in."
Bam!
"????"
A fist strike landing right before her.
Felicia blinked in bewilderment at the absurdity, while the knight who'd dared Mountain Breaker Fist on the Sword Sage stared straight ahead, drenched in sweat.
And then.
"Demonic human my ass. How's that a demonic human."
Having overheard their exchange mid-fight, the knight let out a hollow laugh, irritation plain.
As if he couldn't stand listening anymore.
"Hey, kiddo?"
"That's a heart demon. Not a demonic human."
"??"
"Also called qi deviation."
"What..."
"And qi deviation is a curable illness."
What is a heart demon, pray tell?
A mental illness.
Just the brain clogged with stagnant blood qi, poison qi, or turbid qi, flipping out.
What does that mean?
'Beat it out, and it heals.'
Like a mad dog needs a stick, a madman needs fists.
In that sense.
"I'm the expert."
This medieval knight, self-proclaimed specialist in fixing beasts worse than humans, swapped his sword for an axe.
Regrettably, elegantly thrashing with a sword seemed impractical.
"Gotta fight like bandits or beggars."
The knight awakened the bandit and beggar spirits within him.