Chapter 113
Chapter 113
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: Immortal Legion (4)
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The eerie sound of air being sliced rang out repeatedly.
A swift sword strike aimed at his throat—Nederman lowered his stance and swept his blade at the enemy's lower body.
The foe leaped over it effortlessly and, as he descended, slashed his sword vertically downward.
Nederman parried by swinging his own blade upward.
Kwa-ang!
The clash of steel resounded with a massive boom that shook the space.
The impact made the blades hum, but there was no time to steady them.
Swaeok!
The repelled sword was curving in from the side.
A white flash piercing like a beast's fang.
In an instant, the two blades tangled chaotically, and explosions overlapped as they burst forth.
Kwa-gwagwagwang!
The blurred afterimages twisted in swift, ruthless paths.
A killing sword focused solely on taking the opponent's life.
Nederman clicked his tongue as he faced it.
Perhaps because he was a veteran of the battlefield, he never swung his blade idly.
Every strike carried the intent to kill.
A truly tricky opponent.
A brief stalemate followed as the natural gap between them widened. Nederman seized that momentary pause, when neither blade moved, to speak.
"What's your name? Even a goblin leaves its hide behind when it dies—you should at least leave that much."
"Arreon. Also called the 'Black Beast.' Remember the name of the man who'll sever your head."
"Well, this is awkward. It's like using a dragon-slaying blade on a mere beast. Feels like I'm the one taking a loss here. No interest in becoming a Black Dragon?"
Contrary to his playful words, Nederman gripped his sword hilt tightly.
At the same time, the surrounding air rippled as if about to explode.
A razor-sharp aura incomparable to before surged from both of them.
A ferocious energy that seemed capable of tearing space apart.
They gauged the distance, probing each other.
Nederman felt the hairs on his body stand on end against the enemy's wild, beast-like pressure.
The sensation of stepping into a space where life and death intersected.
They had entered the crossroads of survival.
From now on, only one mistake would be allowed.
Because that mistake meant death.
For a swordsman, it was a heart-pounding moment.
Kwang!
His toes exploded forward, propelling Nederman's form in a blurred afterimage.
The enemy did the same.
As if by agreement, they charged at each other.
And soon.
Mana flames ignited along their blades.
From Arreon's blade, a crimson aura like deep scarlet.
From Nederman's, a crystalline green aura.
The multicolored trails intertwined chaotically to claim each other's lives.
Kwa-gwagwagwang!
Sword strikes colliding in a flash.
In the gaps of those densely woven trajectories, a fang descended diagonally.
Swak!
The true tooth hidden within the chaotic sword paths.
He wouldn't miss it.
Kwaang-!
As he deflected the strike aimed to bite his throat, he thrust his sword toward the enemy's waist.
The straight green flash grazed Arreon's side, blooming a red flower.
But the wound wasn't deep.
Because the foe had dodged.
Arreon seized the opportunity to press forward.
'A ruthless bastard.'
Nederman gritted his teeth against the foe baring its fangs even deeper and spun his body.
The blade tip, extended forward, whipped back, wrapping around the space.
Green aura followed in a fan shape, blocking the enemy's sword.
Kwaaang-!
The aura-clad blades collided, vibrating the space.
A fierce gust arose simultaneously.
Even though he had reacted a beat late, Nederman overcame the enemy's strike with speed.
He was confident in his sword speed.
As he blocked, Nederman's sword suddenly rose like a gale toward the enemy's right shoulder.
A green flash shooting like a ray of light.
Pishut!
Only after it passed did blood spray belatedly from Arreon's shoulder. At the same time, blood spurted from Nederman's thigh.
Yet both swung their swords as if nothing had happened.
Blood scattered in the air hadn't even hit the ground before new trajectories intertwined.
Amid explosions shaking the surroundings, the small battlefield blazed fiercely.
Red blood bloomed here and there.
The sharp auras coating their blades left marks without even touching flesh directly.
In that intense battlefield where life and death diverged in an instant, neither retreated a step as they raced to take each other's lives.
Lethal sword dances unfolded to devour one another.
Their forms wove together, stepping into each other's blind spots.
Kurururung.
The shockwave from clashing swords let out a massive roar.
Nederman's eyes flashed then.
He had spotted the enemy's opening.
The swift sword shot out, finally prying open the gap between those solid fangs.
Nederman, who had waited for this moment, didn't miss the instant.
Kung!
The explosive force from his toes pushed against the ground.
As he shot forward, the line of power extended to his fingertips.
Nederman rode that explosive force with his blade.
Whirling Wind Thirteen Sword Forms.
Fourth Form: Gale's Crevice.
The green sword strike rode the enemy's blade upward, extending like a shower of rain.
Compressed fierce winds tore the beast's maw apart, piercing straight through space.
Chwa-ak!
A single streak of light slicing long through the darkness.
Arreon's head, lying on that path, flew through the air. At the same time, the massive roar and shockwave shaking the interior abruptly ceased.
Teolseok.
In the heavy silence, the enemy's form collapsed limply.
Facing the lifeless foe, Nederman grinned.
He loved these instants where life and death were decided in a flash.
More precisely, the euphoria of victory that followed.
No moment made him feel more alive.
"Really craving a drink now."
Nederman tore the foe's clothes to bind his wounds. The gash on his side was particularly deep, even if others were minor.
"Kuh. Stings like hell."
After simple first aid, he rose without rest.
Allen, barely three years old in experience, had gone alone into the enemy's heart.
No time to idle.
"Hell, I've practically become a dad myself."
Grumbling, he took heavy steps to follow Allen.
* * *
...This guy's the White Lion?
Dr. Jurha gazed at the impeccably pristine White Lion.
"There must've been guards at the door."
"Naturally, I cut them down."
According to Halent, he was an Expert of the highest order.
A guy who quit knighthood to roll in the battlefield.
Yet the White Lion stood unscathed, without a single sword mark, after felling such a man.
No doubt he was a Sword Master.
With a heavy presence dominating the space to boot.
This was undoubtedly the White Lion.
"Kekekeke. Younger than I thought."
As Dr. Jurha fell for it, Allen inwardly cheered.
His bluffing divine art had worked perfectly.
Now he just needed to stall until Nederman arrived.
The enemy seemed to want the same.
Dr. Jurha surely knew he couldn't handle the White Lion's full power alone, and the ritual still needed time to complete.
They shared the same goal.
"You've killed me twice now, yet how are you still alive?"
Allen started the conversation first, and Dr. Jurha took it smoothly.
"Kekekeke. How am I alive? I've never died, so of course I'm alive."
Allen's mind raced at the response.
What would Genesis say in this moment?
He thought only of that.
His mouth moved on its own.
"Both idiots yapped nonsense until their heads rolled. Answer the question. I have no patience."
"Heh heh heh."
Dr. Jurha merely chuckled, showing no particular reaction.
Allen pressed on.
"The first one, and the second—both vanished after I killed you."
To drag out time while drawing the answers he wanted, he naturally pulled out the doubts he and his companions had speculated about Dr. Jurha.
"At first I thought it was the same person, but neither the second nor you remember meeting me."
"So?"
"That means you're different individuals."
"Kekekeke. Correct. We're practically different people."
A vague answer, but the foe was following his lead readily.
"Then I learned you could change faces. Voices match perfectly too, plus body enhancement. Your skill in handling human bodies far surpasses human medicine."
"Kuhahaha! You can see properly, eh? Indeed! This body's skill has reached the realm of gods!"
Frivolous, yet brimming with confidence.
Praise him once, and he latched on.
Allen continued.
"But I didn't think you surgically altered multiple people to look the same."
"Hm. Why not?"
"Who'd want to live with that mug?"
This was Iriel's assertion back then.
"Kekekeke. Judging by appearances alone—your brain's rotten, boy."
From the reaction, it wasn't a face change.
"Didn't think twins either."
"Why not?"
"Two people living with that face? Doesn't make sense."
Again, Iriel's point.
Unlike before, Dr. Jurha paused, then bellowed like thunder.
"What's wrong with my face!"
Allen ignored the protest and continued.
"So I figured it had to be magic. I guessed a spell creating clones."
Dr. Jurha's expression turned intrigued at Allen's words.
A hypothesis thrown together, but it meant he was nearing the truth.
"We judged you had such magical ability. But even magic can't do that."
This was the turning point.
Given the foe's frivolous nature so far, if it were dark magic, he'd boast it was magically feasible.
"Kekekeke. You got that far, huh."
But the response was dry.
At least not dark magic.
As expected.
His group lacked deep magic knowledge, but even they knew creating a thinking clone like a real human was impossible.
A childish fancy from when he believed magic almighty.
Creating another self.
Everyone imagines it once.
For tedious tasks.
When one body isn't enough.
What if another me existed?
But as said, impossible.
So how did this guy make clones?
Enviable.
With genuine curiosity, Allen asked.
"How exactly do you create clones?"
Dr. Jurha threw his head back and laughed heartily.
"Kuhahaha!"
He seemed deeply satisfied seeing Allen's sincere curiosity.
"Creating clones is realistically impossible, of course. But! This body possesses a god's power that makes it possible. Something you lot could never obtain."
"A god's power?"
"No need to know details. What's the point for a soon-to-die fool?"
As his words ended.
Gugugugugu.
The green-burning brazier and the chimney above it trembled violently.
The ritual was nearing completion.
Allen bit his lower lip.
'Mr. Nederman hasn't arrived yet...?'
Judging enough time had passed, the foe now sought to settle things.
He seemed unafraid of death.
Fighting Dr. Jurha here would mean instant death for Allen. But he couldn't show hesitation.
"If you want to die that badly."
Allen's mind whirled as he slowly drew his sword. His palm was slick with sweat. His spine chilled, dry swallow scraping his throat.
One wrong move, and the bluff would crumble.
How could a fresh Expert Intermediate mimic a Sword Master?
Run now...?
But the enemy was a mage.
He'd have fled earlier if possible.
What to do...?
At that impasse, a saving voice rang in his ear.
"What the hell's that guy? Why's he look like that?"
Allen turned, eyes nearly welling with joy at the familiar voice.
So glad to see that face.
"You've arrived."
Yet Allen said coolly.
Nederman stared at him, momentarily speechless.
That face on the verge of tears, with such an icy tone.
"......"
What's with this kid?
* * *
Kugugung.
A sword strike sweeping the area collapsed the ground and buildings in the radius.
The chaotic ruins.
I stood alone at the center.
Plop.
That wiped out the Ariat Knight Order entirely.
Even though Nederman and Allen went ahead first, the altar above still showed the ritual proceeding.
I pondered where to go, then decided.
With Nederman handling the ritual disruption, it'd be fine.
He'd manage.
Unreliable as he was, the odds of anyone blocking him there were slim.
And going now wouldn't change much.
Pabat.
I kicked off toward the upper part of the altar where the ritual continued.
* * *
Whiiiiiing!
"Kuh..."
The Fake Crown Prince swallowed a groan, body shuddering.
Currents blooming from the magic circle emitting intense light whipped the space fiercely, forming a barrier of wind.
Bzzz!
Suddenly, a blinding flash erupted from the pattern on the Fake Crown Prince's left arm.
At the same time, in the empty air before him,
Gugugugugu!
A pitch-black line was being etched vertically.