Chapter 577
Chapter 577
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 577
Chapter Title: Betrayal (6)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Back when he was deeply engrossed in sparring sessions with his master.
In other words, this was a story from the time when he used a sword as his main weapon, not a spear.
The swordsmanship employed by Eloa or Si-woo transcended the speed of sound with superhuman ease, so naturally, no ordinary human could imitate it.
However, since its foundations were rooted in the world's various sword styles, she demonstrated many different types of swordsmanship to him.
Sword arts that varied by cultural region, East or West.
Sword arts that differed based on the type of blade.
Sword arts that changed according to the principles of the sword.
At that point, already bearing the contract of the King of All Diseases, Si-woo absorbed and mastered swordsmanship theory at a rapid pace, but there was one category that eluded easy understanding.
The Dull Sword.
Taken literally, it meant a "slow" or "blunt" sword.
Illusory swords with ever-changing forms, swift swords pursuing the pinnacle of speed, flexible swords that subdued even flowing steel.
They all had their merits, but not the Dull Sword.
"Master, but... what good is a slow sword?"
He remembered Eloa, who had fluently explained and demonstrated the others, pausing thoughtfully at that question.
"Would you like to see it for yourself?"
And so, the Dull Sword she unveiled amid their sparring was truly bewildering.
At first glance, it seemed full of openings, yet merely facing it choked the breath with overwhelming pressure.
The moment blades met, the sheer disparity in power became inescapably clear.
Frustrated by the sense that every move was read, he'd swing wildly—and suddenly, a razor-sharp edge hovered right beneath his throat.
"That's impressive..."
Si-woo was genuinely awestruck, but Eloa shook her head with an embarrassed smile.
"Truth be told, this can't truly be called a Dull Sword. It only seems convincing because of the vast gap in skill."
"Is that so?"
"Indeed. They say the Dull Sword embodies the subtleties of drawing second and striking from stillness, but even I have never seen it done for real. It's only fit for training. Just know it exists."
Deep in his training fervor at the time, he pressed further.
"Then, is there no way to perfectly wield a Dull Sword in actual combat?"
Eloa pondered briefly before answering.
"...In that case, it would likely manifest as a fusion with heavy sword techniques. What it requires is power. An utterly overwhelming force to sweep aside every head-on assault."
The Dull Sword—even his master, the most profound expert in martial arts he knew, had dismissed it as mere fantasy.
Yet now, it unfolded before Si-woo's eyes with vivid reality.
Here it comes again.
"Hah~"
-Boom!!!
No matter how he looked at it, it was a lackadaisical shout and a seemingly casual swing.
He didn't understand complex principles like drawing second or whatever.
It was simply heavy—heavy beyond measure, brutally powerful, and the shock of blocking it once sent tremors like electricity surging through his body, threatening to shatter his arms, waist, and thighs.
Like falling from a height onto his back, breath caught, vision whitening.
No room to flee before such monstrous violence.
After barely offsetting the impact and looking up, a sluggish follow-up came drifting in.
-Kwaaaang!
A swing powered solely by arm strength, without even twisting the waist, packing this much force.
And it bulldozed straight through his counterattack, every ounce of mental focus poured into it.
Brutishly straightforward, brutally powerful—impossible to counter.
It didn't feel like facing a human at all.
This blade strike could crush even the colossal Kraken through sheer force.
-Kwaaang!
The Red Branch wailed in agony, its distortion field twisting wildly, but it only gnawed futilely at Si-woo's body.
Dorothy, clad in her nun's habit, seemed utterly unaffected.
Unable to endure longer, he wove a shield.
Not for hardness, but a one-time buffer—like a shock-absorbing vest designed to shatter and minimize impact.
-Kwachik!
A crunch like breaking bones, and he felt his body launched through the air.
He tumbled deliberately several times to dissipate the shock, then sprang up like a coiled spring.
Dorothy approached leisurely.
Less pursuing a fleeing foe, more like out for a stroll.
Unfairly, the battle's urgency burdened only Si-woo.
"~Incredibly impressive. I didn't expect you to hold up this well."
This was the first time since the Red Knight that he'd been so thoroughly pushed in close quarters.
Most witches were decisively weak up close.
Moreover, with his cheat-like Red Branch, he'd assumed close combat was off-limits for defeat.
No real injuries yet, but as his trump card field, the mental blow was heavy.
Twenty meters between them.
A safe distance for humans, but for these superhumans, practically point-blank—where Dorothy halted.
"How about we call it here? Come quietly with me, and you won't suffer more. I won't do anything bad. You might sulk for a day or two, but eventually, you'll be content enough~"
"What makes you think I'd trust you?"
The old Dorothy, or in a truly hopeless spot, he might have followed.
But stabbing a friend in the back, resorting to dirty tricks—a wanted criminal like her offered no good outcome.
"If it won't bend, it breaks."
With those words, Dorothy casually closed in again.
Conversely, Si-woo widened the gap.
Retreating from an advancing enemy was rare for him.
"Pierce."
His ultimate strike now: hurling the Red Branch with ribbon tension.
The chapel manifested in this Inner Barrier was no ordinary place, as expected.
Not a pebble dislodged amid such fierce combat—that was proof.
Conversely, plenty of sturdy structures to exploit as projectiles.
No matter Dorothy's immense power or her habit's top-tier defense—this strike was different.
Compressing the rampaging distortion field and unleashing it in one shot—maximum firepower.
Its might was evident even in preparation.
-Woooooong!
Compressing the wildly thrashing distortion field into the Red Branch.
A task the Black Knight handled nonchalantly, still slightly taxing for Si-woo.
No need to draw it inside his body like before.
Some power loss, but he'd mastered this level.
Even as the spear tip, brimming with unprecedented force, locked on her, Dorothy strolled on unhurriedly.
"Fear not."
After Dorothy's incantation, a ring materialized above her head.
Meant to evoke an angel's halo, now solidified like their trademark.
Gleaming pure white, it spun slowly, harboring galaxy-like power.
Simultaneously, pristine white wings unfurled from her back—truly angelic sanctity.
Not mere propulsion magic, those swan-like elegant wings.
As they flapped languidly, they dissolved into feathers.
Each vast wing's feather scattered and drifted down slowly.
-Shuwaaaak!
Too late to reclaim the overdriven Red Branch anyway.
The full-power throw sliced through the air toward Dorothy.
—————!!!!
A roar beyond sound, shockwave echoing through the vast chapel.
Not a speck of dust from such impact—clear view to the unbelievable.
The Red Branch, hurtling at dozens of times sound speed, grazed a drifting feather—trajectory altered.
The distortion field incinerated it instantly, a minute deflection.
But feathers swirling between them numbered in the tens of thousands.
Indiscernibly numerous, each nudged the Red Branch downward, bit by bit, sapping its speed.
Thus, the sure-kill move neutered with pathetic ease.
-Kakang!
Slowed to subsonic, it pierced the chapel floor with a shrill screech.
Affecting artifacts and magic, it marred the unscratched sanctuary somewhat—but hardly meaningful.
Absolute defense.
Si-woo thought involuntarily.
If Bianca specialized in long-range barrages, Dorothy was her polar opposite.
A witch optimized for defending against all attacks.
The threat gone, the angel's ring and feathers faded.
Those feathers had spawned from the halo as mana conduits.
Seemingly chaotic, each bore intricate spellwork.
More precisely, a net-like defensive array.
Sustaining it long-term would be mana-intensive, he surmised.
"......"
Yet such analysis felt futile now.
Could he breach that wall?
"Faith begins with belief. Even if nonexistent, when an indeterminate mass shares it, it becomes real."
"......"
"Angels, ubiquitous in myths across cultures and eras, are prime examples."
Figures ever-present in any mythology.
Agents of divine feats.
Angels.
"Humans are cunning. They don't sense sanctity alone. So where does faith come from?"
Dorothy, expounding unasked, radiated victory's certainty.
"From power—overwhelming, absolute power. My Autonomic Magic manifests the angel's 'Absolute Force.' As long as my will doesn't break, no external power interferes. In short, against you, a physical magic specialist, I'm the ~worst matchup."
Pieces of hypothesis clicked together, thanks to her smug boasting.
The sword unmoved by full-force clashes.
The superior strength unilaterally dominating Si-woo.
Overwhelming defense halting even the Red Branch.
Per her words, all physical reactions in combat fell solely on Si-woo.
A cheat ignoring Newton's fundamental laws.
If half-true, his odds were slim.
He realized his strongest domain couldn't compete.
Defeat might not mean death—or worse.
Dorothy seemed genuinely fond of him.
His resolve wavering.
A frail inner voice tempted: 'This is good enough.'
But.
He extended the ribbon, snatching the Red Branch.
Dorothy let him, unhindered.
He gripped firmly the partner that pierced countless ordeals.
"Pierce."
Recharging depleted mana from the throw, steeling his will.
What foolish thought?
Leruya awaited, unknown fate against Acura and Dorothy.
His body intact, mana reserves remained—and above all...
"I told you to give up. You're too stubborn."
Disappointed yet oddly pleased, Dorothy raised her sword with a smile.
In that instant, Si-woo's eyes flicked to the chapel floor churned by the Red Branch.
Yes.
Giving up was premature.
Si-woo hadn't revealed everything yet.