Chapter 103
Chapter 103
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 103
Chapter Title: Sword that Cleaves the Heavens (6)
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A moment ago, realizing he had been struck by a mental attack, he reinforced his mental barrier, making it even more solid and intricate. Even if his physical movements loosened slightly, he intended to protect his mind by ceaselessly altering his defensive patterns.
But... Azel was subtly deceiving his senses.
Every reaction to the situation was just a fraction delayed. He could clearly see it with his eyes, recognize it with his mind, decide on a response... yet it was always a bit slower than anticipated, forcing him into a defensive position.
'Where am I being attacked?'
He was definitely under assault somewhere in his psyche. He thought he had sealed off every possible avenue, so what technique was this? As Durang fell into confusion, Azel spoke.
"You certainly have techniques I don't know. Skills that exploit reflexive actions independently of conscious activation—these weren't from the Dragon Emperor War. Not forgotten secret arts, but ones developed afterward, I presume?"
Zail and Boer had used similar techniques. Reflexive movements imprinted in the body, independent of cerebral commands—motions that reached the pinnacle of efficiency, often said to occur in a state of no-mind... Azel was unfamiliar with the skills that utilized them.
"You're impressive. It's been ages since I last saw a Spirit Order practitioner who reminds me of the old days. But regrettably, you don't fully grasp the meaning of 'seeing.'"
"What?"
Slash!
And as if by magic, Durang's side split open, blood gushing forth.
Durang realized that his field of vision had narrowed to an extreme degree without his noticing. It wasn't just his vision. All his senses had been utterly fixated on the Azel before him, creating blind spots in perception that would never occur under normal circumstances. Azel's clone, appearing from the side, had exploited that gap.
As he withdrew the clone and passed by the collapsing Durang, Azel said,
"You focus only on the enemy in front of you. That's why you're going to die."
"...Seeing... I get it. Vision... no, you manipulated my attention..."
Durang muttered like a groan as he sank to the ground. As a high-ranking Spirit Order practitioner himself, he grasped the sequence of his defeat from the mere hint Azel had dropped.
When people become absorbed in what's right in front of them, their field of vision narrows. Even those accustomed to broadly scanning their surroundings can't notice events to the side or behind while frantically blocking an incoming blade.
Azel had exploited that trait. Taking advantage of their locked gazes, he had woven illusions to create a minute discrepancy between what Durang saw and Azel's actual movements.
Through this, he stripped away Durang's margin for error while simultaneously gnawing at his senses with psychic waves, forcing Durang's attention solely onto defending against his attacks. And once convinced a massive void had formed in Durang's perceptual field, he had delivered the fatal strike with his clone.
'This guy's a monster. No way to counter him...'
Durang shuddered, realizing the gulf between him and Azel. But he couldn't fall here. No matter how hopeless, he had to rise.
"No... I can't collapse here... the young lady, the young lady..."
The wound was too deep. It had severed bone and torn his heart—there was no hope.
Moreover, Azel's sword carried a curse-like power that had thrown his mana flow into chaos, making even Spirit Order hemostasis impossible.
"Lord Saibain... due to my incompetence... I failed to protect... your daughter. My apologies..."
Durang collapsed without finishing his words.
8
Niberis lay unable to twitch a single finger. Her injuries were so severe that even devoting herself entirely to recovery, she wouldn't be mobile again during this battle. And in the meantime, the situation deteriorated by the second.
'Durang.'
Niberis knew of Durang's death.
The human saved by her father, Saibain. Durang, who had risen to a position respected even by the Dragon Demon tribe through countless feats, was someone Niberis shouldn't have treated with such condescension, like a mere subordinate. Yet he had insisted on repaying the grace Saibain had shown him by adopting a junior's demeanor toward her, always striving to assist in any way.
Born a noble bloodkin and raised amid deference, Niberis had taken his devotion for granted. At times, his attitude—like watching a child by the water's edge—had irritated and annoyed her.
But now her heart ached. Perhaps for the first time since adulthood. It was the first time tears welled up from losing someone.
'Don't be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.'
For the first time in her life, she despised her own incompetence.
It wasn't the first time she'd felt her abilities lacking. When she had previously failed a mission because of Azel, her pride had suffered a massive blow, making her acutely aware of her deficiencies. She had thrown herself into retraining with bone-grinding fervor.
But it hadn't been enough. This time, too, she had lost.
In the past, she would have raged, her pride wounded. But now, she couldn't bear her own shortcomings. The fact that she could do nothing while someone who had devoted himself to her was lost... it hurt more than the death approaching her.
'Guardian Shadows... even they've come.'
While Azel swept through them like a storm, the Guardian Shadows appeared, using Dragon Sword Duke Kairen as their marker. The already ragged Dragon Demon Worshippers lost their numerical advantage and were being slaughtered.
"...Niberis."
Amid the chaos, a whispering voice reached her, powerless to act.
Kirien Baltazak. Descendant of the great Dragon Demon General Baltazak. Deemed the finest of the younger generation from the dark snowfields, a rival threatening her position.
"You at least... you must..."
She knew why his voice sounded so pained and labored. She had seen him shed tears for her sake. She knew he had thrown himself forward without hesitation to protect her.
If she could speak, she would have said,
'Lord Baltazak, you're still such a crybaby, as ever.'
After her coming-of-age rite, Niberis had treated him with exasperation. She couldn't stand the adults constantly comparing them to stoke rivalry.
But she knew what emotion lay in the eyes with which Kirien looked at her.
How could she not, when it was so blatant? Besides, before her rite, their relationship had been entirely different.
'Don't cry, you fool. You're a descendant of the great Baltazak. Acting like this tarnishes the dignity of your noble blood.'
Though now hailed as exceptionally talented, the young Kirien had been a weak crybaby. Unlike Niberis, he had many siblings vying for the Baltazak successor position. Despite his frailty, his talent was outstanding, so he endured all manner of bullying from them.
Each time, Niberis had scolded him sharply to steel his resolve. In their childhood, they had researched magic together, talked of futures to come, and grown close.
'Kirien, I've never truly hated you.'
Their positions had merely forced enmity upon them. Perhaps once the succession was settled, a future together might have been possible. But the adults, gripped by fear of the world and fanaticism for the Dragon Demon King, had turned that path into one of wounds.
"Niberis."
Suddenly, Niberis heard another voice, and irritation surged within her.
'Laura.'
A rival who had abruptly appeared before her one day.
Unlike Kirien, she had never met Niberis in childhood. Years after Niberis's rite, Laura had emerged as the successor to a predecessor who had fallen in battle against the Guardian Shadows.
The two had never gotten along.
It wasn't just rivalry. Of course, that was reason enough for annoyance, but what she hated was not knowing what went on in Laura's mind.
Niberis disliked her eyes. Laura's gaze, dismissing any emotion directed at her, seemed to ascribe no value to Niberis whatsoever.
"Please don't die. I hate you—no, all of you... but if you die, Lord Baltazak will be pitiful."
Niberis bristled. Even now, she couldn't resist being irritating?
But the action Laura took after those words surpassed Niberis's wildest imagination.
9
Laura had hated Niberis since long ago.
In truth, it wasn't just Niberis. She hated Kirien, Jephers, the dark snowfields... everything surrounding her. She hated those who had birthed and raised her, and loathed herself as Aunsor's successor.
But that was the only way she knew to live. Being a Dragon Demon Worshipper and Aunsor's successor was Laura's sole reason for existence.
Her earliest memory was from when she appeared about three or four years old in human terms. She had opened her eyes inside a massive glass tube filled with a special elixir crafted by alchemists.
Until they pulled her out, she had been ignorant. Knowing nothing, she merely gazed at the events around her.
"You're Number 47. Remember that. Though you probably won't forget."
When she emerged from the tube, she had no name yet. At that time, there were exactly 139 siblings, all called by numbers.
For reference, the 139 counted only those assigned numbers. By the time she emerged, about ten siblings had vanished without numbers. She hadn't understood then, but now she did. They had been discarded for failing to meet the desired standards.
"You are beings born of the great Aunsor's blood. But only one among you will inherit that name."
Her siblings all possessed exceptional intellect and magical talent. Less than a year after emerging from the tubes, they mastered language, writing, and basic knowledge, beginning their magical studies.
Studying magic entailed great risks. They enjoyed peaceful learning for only a year; afterward, they faced monsters or summoned evil spirits with black magic—dangers where death was no surprise, treated as routine.
In that process, the number of siblings dwindled steadily. They were tested in various ways for ability and potential, and those stamped as flawed after repeated failures were isolated and vanished somewhere.
After ten years, barely half remained. By then, the survivors could receive names in place of numbers.
'Laura Aunsor.'
The day she first received her name, Laura was overcome by an indescribable feeling. From the day they emerged from the tubes, they had been numbers, but in learning knowledge with their high intellect, she had realized how humiliating that was. So she had dreamed of the day she would receive a name and be acknowledged as a proper being.
That day, Laura repeated her name hundreds of times. It was probably the day she spoke the most since birth.