A Miracle Born of Malice
It was a chaotic melee. The spider attacked recklessly, heedless of its own tearing flesh, and I retaliated with everything I had. I couldn't afford a battle of attrition. My body was in no condition to sustain the hit-and-run tactics from earlier. Fortunately, the spider was slower than before, and I was faster.
Thump. Thump. Thump. My heart pounded relentlessly. Hot blood surged violently through my veins, from end to end. As my perception of time slowed down, my body accelerated. I carved through the spider's flesh and flipped my sword into a reverse grip. I drove it into the crushed carapace, then ripped it back out. Retreating two paces, I bent my waist to dodge an incoming strike. A sharp gust of wind brushed past my face as a leg narrowly missed me.
Is it not going to spit venom again? It made sense. There was a clear telegraph before it spat its poison. It was only a threatening weapon when caught off guard; as long as I remained vigilant, there was no reason to get hit. In fact, if it tried that again, I was confident I could deliver a devastating counterattack. My eyes were already tracking every micro-movement of the beast.
The spider's claw lunged toward my shoulder. Dodging it wouldn't be difficult. Even if it hit, it wouldn't be a fatal wound. No, wait. Thinking about it, this was actually an opportunity.
Do not fear pain. Treat your wounds like badges of honor. Did I really have that much time? Did I have the luxury to elegantly trade blows and patiently wait for a perfect opening? Even now, someone out there was pointing a blade at my throat. I had to remember the pursuers. If I kept making this much noise, they would catch up in no time. Would they just sit idly by after seeing the massive trail left behind by this battle?
If there is no opportunity to attack, create one. Even if you have to throw your own body into the fray, make it happen. What else do you have right now besides a sturdy body? All that matters is that you can keep fighting. It's enough if you can survive to face the next battle when this one is over.
I'll take the hit. The flesh of my left shoulder tore open. In exchange, I severed one of its legs. It was the first major breakthrough after a grueling exchange.
We fought like beasts thrashing in a death match. In the dilated flow of time, I swung my sword without pause. Blood splattered. I couldn't tell whose blood it was. The blue and red fluids mingled so thoroughly they became indistinguishable, though there seemed to be far more blue. The loss of its leg had clearly taken a toll on the monster.
Its defense had grown noticeably sloppy—the price it paid for refusing to stop attacking. I relentlessly targeted the spider's crippled side. But then, my leg suddenly gave out. It was the leg I had sacrificed earlier to shatter the carapace near its head. The pain was manageable, but the torn muscle refused to cooperate.
It was a mere split second. A lapse of less than a moment, but that brief stumble proved fatal. A massive leg swept across my side. I didn't fly backward helplessly like before; I managed to keep my footing, but the impact was staggering. The real problem was what came next. My stance was completely shattered, leaving me unable to brace for the follow-up.
"Rajen!" A familiar voice rang out. Something sliced through the air, and the impending strike that should have hit me vanished.
Thwack! A familiar hand axe was buried deep in the spider's eye. It was an opening created by Sirien. Was this my chance? There was no time to deliberate. Action preceded thought. I lunged straight toward the head of the thrashing spider. Under normal circumstances, it would have been a suicidal move, but not now.
Squelch! My sword pierced through the thin carapace, impaling the beast directly under its jaw. Sticky, hot blood poured down my arm. Please. Just die already. I drove the blade in as deep as it could go. The sword seemed to sink endlessly through the thick flesh. Just a little more. If I could push it just a fraction deeper, I could end its life for good.
But the world rarely bends to one's desires. My sword hit a sudden, solid obstruction with a dull *thud*. The sensation transmitted to my hands was despairing. It felt too hard to pierce. While I was stalled, the spider's fangs sank into my shoulder as if it had been waiting for this exact moment. A burning, yet freezing sensation flooded my body. I wasn't foolish enough to mistake what it was: lethal venom.
The poison spread with terrifying speed. In an instant, my body grew heavy, and my consciousness began to drift away. I barely managed to keep my staggering body from collapsing. Is this failure? No. I couldn't let it end like this. I had to finish it before my body became completely paralyzed. I shoved the sword harder against the obstruction inside its head. Naturally, it didn't budge. But I had to do it. If one push wasn't enough, then another. Even if I had to squeeze out every last drop of my strength, I had to snuff out this spider's life. I could not let it live. The moment that thought crossed my mind—a "miracle" occurred.
Count Bertus's Sword Qi was fundamentally black. A pitch-black aura so dense it could be seen even in the dead of night. Around it, blood-red lightning roared furiously.
It was said that a Swordmaster's Sword Qi naturally absorbed everything about the wielder. Among those influences, the strongest was said to be the conviction they held at the moment they reached the pinnacle of the sword. If so, Elis could not help but be horrified every time she looked upon that cruel swordsman.
Why was Rajen Bertus's Sword Qi so ominous and sinister? It was a blade that seemed to harbor nothing but pure killing intent. Within it lay only the malice to destroy and ruin others.
Conviction? What kind of conviction could possibly be found in such a thing? Even if there was conviction within it, Elis did not want to know, nor could she ever accept it.
Pure Evil. Before she knew it, those two words were deeply engraved in Elis's mind. At that moment, she seemed to have an intuition: for the sake of the world everyone desired, that man had to be eliminated. For the first time, Elis thought of someone who deserved to die.
Kill it! My reason and instinct screamed in unison. Immediately after the miracle found me, my mind went completely blank. Nothing remained except the singular, consuming thought of killing that spider. I had to kill the enemy. Even if I had to burn my own body to ashes, I had to kill it.
My body felt incredibly light. It was as if the poisoning from moments ago had been a lie. The venom was still raging inside me, yet it had absolutely no effect. Never in my life had a sword felt so much like an extension of my own body. The blade moved to where I wanted to cut before I even consciously directed it, and my eyes seemed to foresee the future two or three steps ahead, finding the optimal path for every strike.
"Haaah!" A spark flashed before my eyes. It was a faint crackle of electricity. Compared to the novel's description of it encroaching upon its surroundings just by being drawn, this was pitifully weak and insignificant. My Sword Qi was equally pathetic; my absolute limit was a paper-thin layer wrapping around the edge of the blade. But right now, this was more than enough.
A dark, ink-like mist coated the steel blade. Along the path of my swinging sword, the night sky split open amidst the morning sunlight. The carapace, once so hard and resilient, was sliced through like paper. I hacked at the spider's body indiscriminately. I severed its legs. I slashed its eyes. I thrust deep into its protruding head and tore it open, then sliced off its entire jaw just as it tried to spit venom.
The spider was rapidly hurtling toward death. But that meant it was still alive. It wasn't dead until it was completely dead. My boiling blood screamed.
—Kill it! I will move your arms, so you must slaughter the enemy before you. If anything stands in your way, crush it. If anything annoys you, cut it down. A power meant solely for that purpose flooded my body.
Suddenly, the sword I was swinging felt inadequate. I wished I had a heavier, larger blade. How wonderful would it be if I could inflict greater wounds with a single slash? Yes. If one weapon wasn't enough, I just had to use another. My eyes fell upon the axe Sirien had thrown earlier. I yanked it out and slammed it down. *Crunch! Splat!* The contents of the spider's head splattered in every direction.
Finally, the spider collapsed. Yet, my eyes did not miss its still-twitching legs. It's still alive. Then I had to finish the job. The spider's head flew off. The severed fragments of its head got in the way of my slaughter, so I kicked them aside. Searing, scalding breath escaped my lips.
Now I understood. I understood why Rajen's swordsmanship was forced to be so extremely aggressive. This power came with a horrific overload on the body. Every time mana surged through my bloodstream, it felt as though it was carving tiny lacerations inside me. This was likely the price of becoming a half-baked Swordmaster. In exchange for gaining a power far more destructive than that of ordinary Swordmasters, this was the toll I had to pay.
There would have been no reason for him to ever reveal this. Rajen was strong enough, and his talent was undeniable. No one had ever doubted that he had become a Swordmaster through conventional means. But the Rajen in the novel had been running out of time. To survive, he needed power, even if it was a half-baked, self-destructive one.
How many more times did I swing the sword and the axe? Eventually, I stopped my frantic, trance-like assault. "Haa... haa..." When I finally snapped out of it, only a brutally mangled corpse remained. Thank goodness. I was reaching my absolute limit as well. The moment I withdrew my Sword Qi, the lethal venom choked my airway as if it had been waiting for that exact moment. As I collapsed, the last thing I saw was Sirien desperately running toward me.