Chapter 123
Chapter 123
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 123
Chapter Title: The Fall of the Holy Sword Master
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The Holy Sword Master, Count Brandenburg, was a formidable foe. Even Dale couldn't guarantee victory in a fair fight. But not all battles in this world were fought ‘fairly.’
Under the geas's covenant, the Holy Sword Master had plunged the blade into his own heart, yet the man had not died.
The noblest sword in the world had sacrificed itself to protect the vilest of beings.
A sword blessed by the Goddess Systina. The relic of the first Master of the White Magic Tower, which had made the Holy Sword Master who he was today.
The holy sword shattered, and at the same time, he sustained a fatal wound that made it impossible to continue fighting. Though it had blocked the instant-death blow to his heart, he was not immune to the shock.
“I will never, ever forgive you…!”
Ignoring the injuries that should have prevented him from fighting, the <> kicked off the ground.
There was no hilt in his hand. He had become a beast incarnate, no longer deserving of the title 'Holy Sword Master', as he charged forward.
Using the vicious tusks of a wild boar as his weapon, he rapidly closed the distance.
At the same time, Dale swung the jet-black magic sword 'Hunger', and his synchronized shadow cloak billowed, unleashing blades of darkness.
A baptism of blades, formed from the shadows of the cloak's hem, shot out like bullets.
The jet-black blades, imbued with the darkness of the magic sword 'Hunger', rained down like a bombardment. The boar screamed.
“Squeeeeeal!”
It was not a human scream. Quite literally, the sound of a pig being slaughtered echoed.
*He's in no condition to fight properly.*
*Thirty percent of his full strength as the Holy Sword Master... no, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say even less than that.*
But the <>, having lost all reason in his rage, paid it no mind.
He ignored the jet-black blades that endlessly tore through his flesh and continued to charge like a beast. The distance closed. Just as his horn-like tusks were about to gore Dale, that was the moment.
“Now.”
Dale whispered softly. Simultaneously, the sword that protected him from the shadows finally revealed itself.
Lady Shadow.
Her sword, which had once suffered a brutal defeat at the hands of the 'King of Pigs' and lost her kingdom, was swung against the charging <>.
The brilliant golden light and angelic wings of her avatar from that time were nowhere to be seen.
In its place stood only a jet-black Valkyrie. The maiden of war, said to possess a beauty and cruelty beyond compare. A black-and-red Valkyrie, her black armor streaked with crimson.
Her crimson aura blade, reborn through the teachings of the Killing Sword, was no exception.
The assassin's sword, a mixture of black and crimson, swung toward the charging boar's tusks.
“Squeeeeeal!”
Once again, the ugliest scream in the world echoed.
Leaving the sound of a pig being slaughtered behind them, Lady Shadow and Dale kicked off the ground, crossing paths.
It was no longer a fight. It was merely the act of hunting a crazed boar.
Targeting the flailing boar's blind spot, the jet-black Valkyrie plunged her blood-red sword. Never forgetting the humiliation and shame the <> had once dealt her.
*Shhhlick!*
The boar's leather armor tore open helplessly, and the blood-red sword plunged deep. Immediately after, just as Orelia swung her sword to sever his neck.
“That's enough.”
Dale reached out and stopped Orelia. Her sword froze in place. Just as the boar, refusing to submit, tried to gore her with its tusks in retaliation.
“Black Barrel, 「Gatling Style」.”
An uncountable number of shadow bullets rained down from the black barrel. Aimed at the <>, who was making his final, desperate struggle like a beast.
*Thud!*
His massive frame fell to its knees. But even that was not enough to kill him.
The avatar dissipated, revealing the scarred Count Brandenburg.
The 'former' Holy Sword Master knelt weakly, his armor shattered to pieces.
“Ah, ahh…”
He let out a weak groan, lost in a despair as if he had lost everything in the world.
At the end of his groan, his arm moved. With unbelievable speed. He grabbed a sharp piece of gravel from the ground and plunged it downward.
Not toward his enemy, but toward his own neck.
But before he could, the shadow at his feet shot up like a skewer.
“Aaargh!”
“Did you think you could die so easily?”
Dale continued, as the shadow pierced and pinned the hand moving to commit suicide.
“I can't allow that.”
“You, you bastard…!”
“In accordance with Imperial tradition, Count Brandenburg, you will survive.”
Dale sneered in an exceedingly polite tone. As if to say he wouldn't grant him an easy death.
“As a 'prisoner of Archduke Lancaster's family', you will receive the courteous treatment you deserve.”
Killing isn't always the best solution. Even if the target was the object of his undying hatred, it was no different.
At the same time, screams echoed.
They were the screams of the 'Knights of Saint Magdalena' in the distance.
“Are you curious about what's happening to them right about now?”
Dale sneered coldly at the helpless Holy Sword Master.
“Not a single Knight of Saint Magdalena here will leave this place alive.”
“...!”
“And as for you, Holy Sword Master… oh, right, you're not the Holy Sword Master anymore.”
After saying that much, Dale taunted him nonchalantly. Count Brandenburg's face contorted once more.
“A defeated general who, along with his son, ruined his precious Knights of Saint Magdalena time and again, only to be captured so miserably. Like father, like son, I suppose.”
At the heart-wrenching taunt, Count Brandenburg struggled, but he was already being bound by Lady Shadow and other high-ranking assassins from the Shadow Court.
“Cut all his tendons.”
Dale said coldly, without a hint of hesitation.
*Shhhlick!*
Swords fell in unison. The cogs that allowed a man to function as a man were being torn apart, one by one.
Ankles, wrists, fingers, shoulders—the springs connecting flesh to flesh were all removed without exception.
The Empire's proud war hero, the Holy Sword Master, was no more. There was only a miserably struggling cripple.
Dale's expression as he watched him was devoid of any emotion.
He merely considered the fate of House Brandenburg, which would lose its proud knights, its holy sword, and walk the path of ruin.
Just as his father, Lord Black, had said, preparing for death is easier than one might think. Because it allows one to escape all the pain that weighs them down and become free.
And as long as one lives, the pain never ends so easily.
He recalled the pain of the holy sword that had been plunged into his chest from behind that day.
He couldn't bear the urge to tell him the truth right now, just to see the look on his face as he thrashed in misery.
But the time was not yet right. He considered the path of ruin he and his family would walk after losing everything and falling into the abyss.
The hell that Count Brandenburg had to endure had only just begun.
***
Around that time, before the isolated Knights of Saint Magdalena in the city streets, a man appeared.
An unknown killing intent descended chillingly, and a few knights with sharp instincts turned their heads.
*Shhlick!*
The moment they turned their heads, their necks were sliced clean off.
As their necks were severed, blood gushed out, and the splattering blood finally revealed the form of that killing intent. A wire. A steel thread possessing an absurdly high cutting power.
The instant they realized its true nature, the blood-soaked wire whipped around again.
Threads of death whipped indiscriminately toward the isolated cavalrymen trying to maintain their formation.
“Swords! Everyone, draw your swords!”
The Aura Master-level experts who understood the situation assumed a battle stance, and their subordinate knights were no exception.
Threads of death, connected like a spider's web from all directions, raged on.
It was a web spun by the high-ranking assassins of the 'Shadow Court', hidden throughout the city streets. Each assassin acted as a point connecting the web, and as the web moved, it slaughtered the supposedly invincible defensive formation.
Crimson threads flew everywhere, and with each pass, their necks and limbs were severed.
An exquisitely coordinated attack by high-level killers. A single move that, under the right circumstances, could unleash the ultimate killing power.
At the same time, there was a man blocking the path of the Knights of Saint Magdalena.
“Well, damn. Can you really call it an assassination if you just kill all the witnesses in broad daylight?”
The Killing Sword laughed, twirling the hilt in his hand.
***
“...”
By the time the Demon Sword, Sephylia, arrived in the small city of Foltnum with her 'Iron Cross Knights' to aid the Holy Sword Master's cavalry.
The situation was already over.
The city was in ruins, its wreckage forming natural barricades, and within it, a literal slaughterhouse had unfolded.
“...It's the formation of shadow assassins.”
“Are you referring to the assassins of the Shadow Court?”
“Yes.”
The Demon Sword, Sephylia, muttered softly as soon as she saw the scene. She was right.
The law enforcers of the Guild City, and at the same time, the successors to the 'Shadow Church' that had melted into the city's darkness to escape the White Magic Tower.
“Why are they here, helping the Lancasters?”
Although it was a one-sided massacre, the Knights of Saint Magdalena were not the type to be defeated so easily. At least, not in a 'fair' fight.
But these city streets were not their home turf, it was a surprise attack against an unexpected foe, and in a way, it was no exaggeration to call it the worst ambush imaginable.
Nevertheless, one question remained unanswered.
No matter how they fell into the trap, weren't they being led by the Holy Sword Master, one of the Seven Swords of the Continent?
The fact that the Holy Sword Master himself was nowhere to be seen. For her, who knew nothing of Dale's geas, there was only one possible conclusion.
Another powerhouse of extraordinary caliber to counter the first.
“Don't tell me that bastard, the Killing Sword, is here…”
After muttering that much, the Demon Sword, Sephylia, did not hesitate.
“We will return to the marquisate immediately and report the situation.”
She didn't know why they were here, working for the Lancasters. But she did have a faint suspicion.
“Could it be…”
She recalled the 'Black Prince' of House Sachsen she had seen at the Lancaster duchy's castle that day.
She wasn't certain.
She just knew.
What Duke Sachsen had sent was not merely a few hundred Night Raven Knights or a handful of high-ranking black mages.
The Shadow Court, known as the greatest assassin organization on the continent, was with that very 'Black Prince'.