Chapter 66
Chapter 66
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 66
Chapter Title: Here Comes the Provoker
-----------------------------------------------------------------
One afternoon, in an open clearing.
A woman was swinging her sword.
Her short, tied-back hair, interwoven with black and gold strands, was her signature feature.
Each time her blade slashed through the air, the sharp sound of it cutting the wind rang out clearly.
In that moment, amid the sword's whistle, a single set of footsteps echoed.
"Wow, you're grinding away every single day, huh? Is that how you made it to the entry of Master?"
With those words, a potbellied man with a sleazy grin waddled into view.
But even with his arrival, the woman continued swinging her sword in silence.
Not particularly bothered, the potbellied man plopped down into one of the chairs set up in the training area.
"Or maybe you challenged Nakcheon, got wrecked, and now you're swinging that sword nonstop to forget about it?"
At that instant, the woman's sword came to an abrupt halt.
Rakradion, the woman known as the Light of the Demonic Palace.
She was the only one in the Demonic Palace who had set foot into the entry of Master.
With sweat pouring down like rain, her eyes slowly turned toward the potbellied man.
They were filled with clear displeasure, but he just smirked at the sight.
"Don't glare at me with those pretty eyes. Makes my heart race."
"Derek, did you come here to pick a fight? That spot where you got beat last time for talking nonsense probably hasn't even healed yet."
"Nah, I came because I heard a story that'd make our Rakradion all excited. Or maybe you've already heard it."
The man called Derek let out a hearty laugh as he rummaged through his pocket.
He then flung a handmade paper airplane straight at Rakradion with a whoosh.
Rakradion caught the paper airplane and unfolded it.
She quickly realized it was a public announcement.
"Get this—a direct descendant of the Valheim Family is challenging Nakcheon. They're recruiting people to go along."
"...And what does that have to do with anything?"
"Rak, it means even you might not get another shot before it all ends."
Rakradion's eyebrow twitched.
She then ripped the paper to shreds and tossed it carelessly to the ground.
"It has nothing to do with me."
Derek stared at it for a moment before letting out a sigh.
"Sigh, Rak, I get it. I know exactly how you felt that day when you crumbled before Nakcheon. That guy's a disaster. A monster. And I know you've been swinging that sword alone all this time because you want to surpass that monster."
Derek said that and stood up from his seat.
"But how long are you gonna stay chained to Nakcheon? That's just stubbornness and obsession. You could be out there seeing a wider world."
He had once been her comrade.
It pained him to see her life shackled to that disaster called Nakcheon.
"Think about it this time. Seeing that massive Nakcheon in your heart get broken might change your mind a bit."
With those final words, Derek walked away.
Rakradion watched him go, her gaze drifting to the torn announcement.
Nakcheon, defeated.
Rakradion swallowed a hollow laugh.
Unfortunately, Derek's words would never come true.
He wasn't just skilled—he was a true specter.
No matter how much she trained her sword, she couldn't break him, and she figured the Valheim heir would end up the same.
...What a waste of training time.
With her mood soured, she resumed her training.
After a long while, night had fallen.
Having swung her sword until nightfall again today, she wiped the sweat from her forehead.
Gurgle—
Her stomach growled, signaling it was time to eat.
So she stopped by her usual room for a quick wash-up, then headed to her favorite restaurant.
"Puhahat! That brat sitting there all dumbfounded with his butler—hilarious!"
"The one who'll take down Nakcheon ain't some random punk—it's our Pendalrod! This Valheim guy's just strutting around like he owns the place. Right, boss?"
"Damn straight."
Hearing the rowdy voices from inside the restaurant, Rakradion's eyebrow twitched again.
Came for a late dinner, and there are already customers.
Well, this place had the best food in the Demonic Palace.
It wasn't strange for others to be here besides her.
The only issue was that they were her usual rivals.
The Pendalrod gang, centered around Pendal, a peak Expert.
Just naming the team after himself showed how sky-high his ego was.
And he had every reason for it.
Inside the Demonic Palace, he ruled like a king.
"Hm?"
As Rakradion entered, Pendal's eyes turned her way.
His gray hair framed a shirt that revealed a glimpse of the wolf tattoo symbolizing Pendalrod.
His face was flushed red—he was pretty drunk.
The moment he spotted Rakradion, Pendal grinned sleazily.
"Well, if it isn't Miss Rakradion. Coming back from training again today?"
Ignoring him completely, Rakradion walked inside.
She sat in her usual spot, prompting Pendal to rise with a smug expression.
"Don't be so prickly. Let's chat—we're old comrades, right?"
Gripping a liquor bottle, Pendal sidled up to the seat beside her, unfazed by her dismissal.
"You heard it too, yeah? A direct Valheim descendant's gonna challenge Nakcheon. The same Nakcheon even the Light of the Demonic Palace hasn't dared to face."
"......"
"And get this—he's not even an adult yet. Parading around like he owns the Demonic Palace without knowing who's boss."
His Pendalrod cronies had swiftly moved to sabotage.
They'd warned everyone not to join the Valheim heir's recruitment notice.
It was his underlings' initiative, but Pendal hadn't stopped them—he'd just watched.
He didn't like some Valheim punk stirring up the Demonic Palace either.
"...The boss of the Demonic Palace?"
At last, Rakradion spoke.
She turned slowly, fixing Pendal with icy eyes as he rambled on.
The aura in her gaze was so menacing it made even Pendal flinch.
"Where's this boss, exactly? Pendal, you were there with me that day we faced Nakcheon. And yet you're still strutting around like reaching the 8th floor makes you hot stuff?"
Rakradion was at the entry of Master.
And already thirty years old.
In this vast world with billions of people, where countless spent their lives honing themselves, there were barely four figures at Master level.
Over half of them were stuck struggling at the entry stage.
The wall from peak Expert to Master was high.
But the path from entry to intermediate was even steeper.
And Pendal was merely peak Expert.
Thanks to some unique conditions, he could somewhat match Rakradion, but even entering Master eluded him.
For such a man to play king of the Demonic Palace? Absurd.
"Oh yeah? So what makes you and me different from back then?"
Rakradion's lips pressed shut at Pendal's question.
Pendal had abandoned further training, spending the last five years building his Pendalrod gang while acting like the Demonic Palace's ruler.
Meanwhile, Rakradion still hadn't let go of her sword, swinging it relentlessly even past marriageable age.
Despite daily practice since that day, she remained at Master entry.
And Pendal, focused on his gang, was still peak Expert, unchanged.
Their realms hadn't budged since then.
"No matter what we do, we're stuck at the same spot in this damn reality, right?"
Rakradion averted her gaze downward.
Even if others idolized the Master realm.
Those who reached it knew the truth.
That true geniuses were the ones climbing beyond.
Rakradion was blocked before that wall.
"Rak, face it. You and me, no matter how hard we try, we're trapped in this Demonic Palace. Forever."
Pendal said that and lifted the liquor bottle from the table again.
"......Even so."
Rakradion's lips parted once more.
"I'll keep swinging my sword."
Pendal shrugged with a deflated look.
"Ah, suit yourself."
Thinking she was wasting energy on nonsense, Pendal turned back to his seat.
He planned to rejoin his gang and drink.
As he returned, he noticed his crew had gone unusually quiet.
The moment he felt puzzled, his eyes caught someone.
A figure now sitting where he'd been moments ago.
"Looks like the chit-chat's over?"
"You."
The instant Pendal saw him, he began piecing together his identity.
That black hair and blue eyes.
No doubt about it.
Krash Valheim.
The very direct Valheim descendant who'd come to the Demonic Palace.
Pendal scowled.
Judging by the relaxed attitude and those knowing eyes, he was fully aware.
This brat knows I sabotaged him.
Pendal swaggered over to stand before Krash.
Taller by half a head than the still-growing Krash, he used his height to loom intimidatingly.
"What business does a Valheim direct descendant have here?"
Hearing "Valheim," Rakradion finally glanced over.
Undeterred, Krash calmly rose from his chair.
"I'm usually pretty lenient."
The out-of-left-field remark followed.
"But I have zero mercy for those who get in my way."
"Haha, so you wanna throw down?"
Pendal's face twisted into a mocking grin.
In his eyes, Krash was a fresh entry into peak Expert.
For his age, that was prodigious talent.
Of course it was.
He was a Valheim direct descendant, after all.
But that also meant he was currently beneath Pendal.
The gap between a newbie at peak Expert and a veteran was stark.
Pendal might be blocked at the Master wall, but he stood right before it.
The difference with Krash was clear.
"Peak Experts like you aren't common. The Valheim Knights would snap you up in a heartbeat."
Even amid Pendal's intimidation, Krash continued flatly.
As Pendal stared, wondering what this kid was getting at, Krash smirked.
"So, Pendal, I want to hire you for the Valheim Knights."
Pendal froze.
The Valheim Knights.
No matter how much he lorded over the Demonic Palace, joining the Valheim framework was a whole different league.
The Demonic Palace was seen as street thug territory at best.
Pendal had endured lower knights treating him like riffraff multiple times.
But their family's prestige left him powerless.
What if he joined Valheim?
Those same knights would look up to him.
For a split second, greed flashed in Pendal's eyes.
He'd amassed all the power and wealth the Demonic Palace offered.
What he craved now was fame and honor.
"...For real?"
"Yeah. You can bring all these guys too."
Pendal gulped at the offer to hire his entire Pendalrod crew.
Krash smiled slowly at those greedy eyes.
"The knight order name? Puppy Squad fits perfect. You bark just like a dog."
But at those words, Pendal's eyes hardened.
Anger slowly crept over his face.
"...You mocking me right now?"
Krash looked back with all mirth gone.
He despised the hypocrisy—bragging as king one moment, eyes lighting up at Valheim's offer the next.
So he made it crystal clear.
"Yeah, that's exactly it. Idiot."
That provocation was his specialty.