Chapter 63
Chapter 63
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: The Sword that Cleaves Heaven and Earth
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[No choice but to.]
Because he had sent his power elsewhere.
Because he had only left enough strength to briefly seize your right arm.
The rest went unsaid. But the moment he saw the Healing God's eyes, the Plague God intuited something.
He hastily lowered his gaze to the frail beings groaning beneath the Healing God's avatar.
The angels were suffering.
The mountain folk warriors were trembling as if they would die at any moment.
But one was missing from among them.
The Hero.
That damned angel bitch!
"Did you let him escape?!"
Knowing that his targets were the Hero and the angel?
So you hid just those two? To thwart me to the very end?!
The Healing God's avatar smiled.
Her form fading, on the verge of vanishing, she wore a radiant smile.
[You know me.]
We're each other's nemesis.
You know what kind of bitch I am, what kind of bastard you are. Better than anyone.
The Plague God turned his head.
Not just because he knew the Healing God's ferocity, how vicious she was.
He had no choice but to turn. No choice but to face it.
Not the palace.
Precisely, the top of the spire beside the main palace.
An angel resembling the Healing God stood there.
Eyes closed, wielding the Healing God's power.
Concentrating the Healing God's power on the one standing before him.
By normal reasoning, it was foolish.
The total amount of power was fixed.
There was bound to be loss in the process of transmission.
It would have been better for the Healing God's avatar to hold all the power.
That would have been far more efficient.
In any normal case.
[The Hero is here. The holy sword is here. Even angels blessed by me.]
[What is there to hesitate about?]
She was like the first Hero, Leonhardt.
A true Hero's soul.
The sole one who could wield all of Holy Sword Mitra's power as her master.
The Plague God roared and swung his right arm. The Healing God's avatar scattered with a smile, burrowing into the rust to weaken the Plague God's power even slightly.
And Cheon-ho kicked off the ground. He leaped with a roar. He cried out her name.
"Mitra!"
The holy sword.
The savior sword that felled the Demon King alongside the first Hero and saved the world.
Mitra responded.
As the Hero's sword, she answered the Hero's call with full might.
She did not merely contain the Healing God's power—she amplified it. The blade of pure white glowed gold.
The Plague God looked at Cheon-ho. At the Hero and the Hero's sword.
He screamed like a shriek and swung his right arm.
Cheon-ho met it head-on. Glaring into the Plague God's crimson eyes, he swung Mitra wide.
Beneath the capital's sky.
The powers of two gods clashed.
The Hero's sword wailed.
* * *
[Lewd Lv5 experience has increased.]
Time stopped.
At least, that's how it felt to Cheon-ho.
In that moment stretched to eternity, Cheon-ho did not panic.
He had known it would be like this, forewarned by Mitra.
It wasn't truly time stopping.
It merely felt that way due to his thoughts accelerated to the utmost.
The Healing God's divine power.
Mitra, the pinnacle of all holy swords in the Labyrinth World, could indeed amplify that power.
But amplification alone was not enough.
Even drawing on the mana accumulated in the capital to summon the Healing God's avatar, the opponent was the Plague God's true body, if only one right arm.
It was a battle impossible to win by ordinary means.
Thus, the Healing God had gambled.
On Holy Sword Mitra and her new master.
Mitra had lost her past power. She was no longer at the pinnacle.
The Hero was inexperienced. His existence level had only just surpassed humanity.
Yet the Healing God sensed something special.
In the new master of the holy sword.
In the bond between holy sword and Hero.
The Healing God's divine power unfolded through Mitra. The blade of pure white turned golden, and that dazzling light surged forth with momentum to blanket the entire capital.
In the frozen time, all eyes were on the holy sword and the Hero. And the Hero—Cheon-ho—did not look at the Plague God reaching out with a roar, but at something else.
The back of a man.
Tall and burly.
Seemingly two heads taller than Cheon-ho himself, with a thickset build. His astonishingly honed body was like forged iron.
He wielded a massive sword.
A beautiful blade with a golden gem set where hilt met blade.
A massive sword.
Mitra's other form.
He drew the sword. The muscles in his arms gripping it bulged as if to burst, and pure white aura erupted from his entire body like a storm.
Hero Leonhardt.
He swung Mitra. From above to below. But it was no mere overhead strike.
One sword cleaved the heavens.
A colossal wave of pure white energy rocked heaven and earth as it advanced.
Truly overwhelming power.
But it did not suit Cheon-ho. It did not match him.
The man who rent the world with one strike turned back to look at Cheon-ho. His face was hard to discern through the light, but he was surely smiling.
Light flared again. The man's form vanished, replaced by the back of a woman Cheon-ho had never seen.
Even just her back was breathtakingly beautiful, enough to stop one's breath.
She too held Mitra. But unlike Leonhardt's, it was no massive sword one could barely call a blade.
Slender and long. The woman, extending a blade at least two meters, stood lightly facing forward.
Still just her back.
Long, dark blue hair fluttered in the wind, and her slender yet perfectly toned body shifted.
It was beautiful.
Not just because of the silhouette of her body—wrapped in a white top and black bottoms, the pinnacle of feminine curves.
It was the skill with which she handled the sword, the trajectory it traced.
She was beautiful because she wielded the sword.
She swung Mitra.
Golden sunlight, like the glory of dawn, lingered on Mitra's blade.
The same overhead strike.
But different from Leonhardt's.
It rent heaven and earth alike, yet without his ferocity.
Sharp, swift, and noble.
And Cheon-ho intuited.
That was it.
That was the realm he himself needed to reach.
The woman who struck down looked back at Cheon-ho. Noble golden eyes shone upon him.
Time flowed.
The woman's form faded.
Before Cheon-ho's eyes was the enraged Plague God. His arm stretched toward Cheon-ho.
Cheon-ho saw it. In his consciousness still accelerated by the Healing God's power, he gripped Mitra tighter.
Leonhardt had shown him.
The nameless woman had taught him.
Though in void, Cheon-ho assumed his stance. Gripping Mitra firmly, he fixed his gaze ahead. He did not roar like Leonhardt. Like the woman, he was silent—but in the instant of unleashing, fierce. He swung the sword.
One clash.
This was the true Hero's sword.
Mitra traced a beautiful arc. It fell short of the woman's, but came close. And the result manifested in the world.
Mitra rent heaven and earth.
What extended from its end was no longer the Healing God's power.
The Hero's sword.
The will of the world's guardian.
The Plague God reached out.
Against the golden power from that beautiful arc, he spewed verdigris aura wildly.
But it was futile.
The Hero's sword cleaved the verdigris aura. It cleaved the Plague God's palm. It inflicted fatal damage on the god's true body, the mighty evil god dwelling in the depths.
Kraaaaaaaaaaaagh?!
The Plague God screamed.
The wail of a god.
It seemed the entire 4th floor, not just the surroundings, would quake.
You bastard?!
A mere you?!
The Plague God shrieked in agony. Glaring at Cheon-ho, burning with hatred. From his arm already half-sundered by the light's trajectory, white light burst forth instead of blood.
The Healing God's power that had bound the Plague God's body devoured him thus. It shoved him back to the depths, laughing loudly.
Begone, you rat!
This time, you lose!
Beyond the Healing God's hearty cry came the Plague God's final scream.
And the world shone once more.
The golden arc that severed the Plague God's right arm detonated, and intense light erupted from the pure white magic circle blanketing the entire capital.
"Hero!"
In the exploding light, Lucille cried out.
Cheon-ho, who had poured everything into unleashing the Hero's sword, could not answer her.
Beams of light followed one after another.
But Cheon-ho could not even see them. Unknowingly, he had closed his eyes.
[O Chosen One.]
Mitra's voice rang out.
In a strange sense of relief, Cheon-ho lost consciousness.
* * *
It was warm.
Comfortable, like being held in his mother's arms.
So he only realized belatedly that he had opened his eyes.
Beyond his still-blurry vision, something beautiful appeared.
A pair of golden eyes.
Like the sun, yet not fearsome—warm and gentle.
The beauty was not just the eyes.
Her refined face, imbued with nobility, seemed comparable even to his mother.
Unknowingly, Cheon-ho smiled.
He closed his eyes again, and in that moment, a voice sounded.
[O Chosen One!]
[O Chosen One! Pull yourself together! O Chosen One!]
It was Mitra's voice. Cheon-ho snapped alert and quickly opened his eyes.
Mitra was there.
Instead of the beautiful golden eyes, a worried emoticon filled his view.
[O Chosen One! Are you coming to?]
[ㅠㅁㅠ!]
"Pfft!"
He couldn't help but laugh. And at his laughter, Mitra reacted fiercely.
[O Chosen One!]
Her slender—truly slender—arms pounded his shoulders wildly. Though it amounted to mere pats.
"Mitra?"
"Yes, it's me."
[This is my mental world.]
[The recoil from overusing the Hero's sword has separated your mind from your body, it seems.]
At Mitra's explanation, Cheon-ho blinked, then abruptly sat up.
"Separated?"
[It's temporary. Since you've regained your senses here, you can return anytime you wish.]
[^ㅁ^]
Mitra beamed and patted his back.
[O Chosen One, you did splendidly. A magnificent feat.]
[Though borrowing the Healing God's power, you banished the Plague God from the 4th floor back to the depths.]
[A truly great achievement!]
Beaming with pride as if it were her own, Mitra kept smiling.
Unconsciously, Cheon-ho stroked her head, then looked up. About twenty light spears he hadn't noticed before floated in the air.
There, Cheon-ho paused.
He chuckled softly at the phrase "imitating the Hero's sword."
Indeed, it was still mere imitation. He hadn't yet matched Leonhardt or the nameless woman.
'Come to think of it.'
The man was Leonhardt, but who was the woman?
She'd said no proper Hero had wielded Mitra with her since Leonhardt.
One of Leonhardt's traveling companions?
'Or perhaps?'
[O Chosen One, O Chosen One. Truly amazing. New Hero abilities are unlocking left and right.]
[^ㅁ^]
Visibly excited, Mitra grinned wide as she spoke, and Cheon-ho narrowed his eyes.
"Hm."
[O Chosen One? What's wrong? Are you hurt somewhere?]
Mitra looked up at him worriedly—or as much as an emoticon could—and asked.
But instead of answering, Cheon-ho gazed at Mitra once more.
"Hm."
Not impossible at all.
[O Chosen One?]
"No, whatever. We'll find out later."
[Find out what?]
"Something good."
Answering offhand, Cheon-ho asked the tilting-headed Mitra.
"More importantly, Mitra, we can unlock the Hero abilities later, like before, right?"
[Yes. For now, priority is showing everyone you're healthy. Lucille is very worried. The other angels too.]
Nodding, Mitra pushed Cheon-ho down with both hands.
[Now, same as before. Close your eyes and relax your body.]
At Mitra's urging, Cheon-ho quickly shut his eyes.
Mitra stroked his forehead gently.
[You did really well today, O Chosen One.]
"You too, Mitra."
[I always do well.]
At Mitra's playful retort, Cheon-ho ended up opening his eyes again.
A pair of golden eyes.
[See you soon, O Chosen One.]
Whether hallucination or still emoticon-faced, Mitra spoke, and Cheon-ho closed his eyes again.
Listening to Mitra's voice, he slipped into sleep-like return to his body.
And a few seconds later.
Left alone, Mitra looked around anew, then smiled brightly. She closed her eyes to follow Cheon-ho.