Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Red Star (1)
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Just before the blade could touch me, I twisted my wrist.
A long knife hidden in my bracer slid free, gleaming with cold metal light.
‘Eight of them. They must’ve been lying in wait ever since they let their killing intent slip.’
Great Beast attacks were hard to dodge outright, so you usually parried or deflected them. But against regular monsters or lesser beasts—or humans like these—plain evasion was far more efficient.
One sword against many foes.
No way to block every strike by splitting my blade.
This was a habit I’d picked up fighting on the front lines.
A near-prophetic instinct nailed the perfect angle to slip through, weaving my body into the tiniest gaps in their assaults.
Every blade whistled past by a hair’s breadth.
It looked so natural, you’d almost think they’d deliberately missed.
“How…!!”
The knife plunged into the jaw of the foe stunned by my impossible dodge.
Flesh tore open. I grabbed his head and spun him once.
I yanked the blade free and hurled the corpse backward.
Two enemies lunging for my back tumbled under the body.
I didn’t miss the opening. Leaning back, I tilted my body.
Twisting my limbs in a coil, I sliced through the air between their blades.
Four knives converged in a single motion, yet none connected.
I arched my torso to its limit, body slanting in near-acrobatic evasion, flowing seamlessly into the next.
I plunged fearlessly into their gaps, thrusting limbs into a storm of blades and murderous intent.
Movements that would’ve gotten anyone else killed ages ago.
Yet impossibly, every attack veered just an inch from my skin.
Godlike distance control.
The fruit of shedding blood and sweat battling Great Beasts—this was it.
‘Can’t let the building collapse.’
No large-scale techniques possible.
Wave strikes would’ve been easiest in my position, but they were honestly hard to control.
For now, forcing everything into one unified path was the best I could do.
Even small-scale Waves needed caution.
Officially, only Northerners used them.
I’d spread them up there myself, so they hadn’t reached the capital or other continents yet.
Would they even recognize Wave traces? Better not risk it.
If they caught on, everyone would know these were my doing.
I thrust my foot forward, closing in to drive my blade home.
My toe slammed into the enemy’s knee.
The knife raked across his body as both his arms came off.
I barreled into him, pressing onward.
Corpses blocked the onslaught; I stabbed through the gaps.
Wrist. Femoral. Ribs.
Pinpoint strikes to vital spots.
I’d just cleared three more when a familiar voice brushed my ear.
“We’ll leave that side to you, Master. Asren Park is fleeing that way.”
Astier.
No need to reply.
I severed the next assassin’s wrist and snatched his dagger.
With it, I impaled the guard aiming for my back.
Spraying blood lubricated my acceleration.
I charged past the vertically bisected corpse.
Before its guts hit the ground, I skewered the nearest foe’s occiput.
Shattered his knee next, then booted the guard into the wall.
Parried a sword thrusting to my chin, deflected it, and countered.
Acrid black smoke and flames roared hot.
The conductor, caught in the blast, had barely regained his wits and was scrambling away.
I seized the hair of a terror-stricken enemy and decapitated him.
Almost cleaned up now.
As I turned to regroup with Astier, someone dropped from the balcony above.
The seats and floor cratered from the massive impact.
A heavy thud, followed by a billowing dust cloud.
From the haze, a giant rose and spoke.
“Impressive skills. Where’re you from?”
Dust cleared to reveal a bald brute, shirtless up top.
A massive tattoo sprawled across his left chest.
His unnaturally swollen muscles bulged obscenely.
“Aura Energy-free, and still that good. You must’ve gotten the procedure too.”
‘Procedure?’
I could guess what that meant in broad strokes.
Something that boosted physical abilities, probably.
But the issue was, I’d played the game and knew the lore—yet this “procedure” rang no bells.
‘Maybe the Southern bio-experiments.’
Truth be told, that was the only thing in this world fitting the bill.
The Southern Kingdom Alliance’s human-body experiments to surpass Aura Energy techniques.
Lionel Bale was the monster born from that.
One possibility hit me here.
What if the bio-experiments succeeded, spreading under the name “procedure”?
What if Lionel Bale wasn’t the sole success?
Figuring out why wasn’t hard.
The monsterfication inherent to magicite.
If that was nullified, implanting artificial Aura Cores might’ve become feasible.
Even if successful, it changed nothing for me.
Misreading my silence, the brute sneered.
“Not talking? Fine. I’ll rip you apart till you do. And it’s not like I can’t guess.”
His eyes gleamed.
A sharp gaze that seemed to pierce my flaws.
“Your dagger work and footwork. No assassin trains that from childhood without it showing.”
“?”
‘What’s he on about?’
I’d only swung a sword for eleven years straight.
Wrist daggers? Maybe swung a couple times a week ago.
I decided to hear more of the brute’s nonsense.
Curious what conclusion he’d reach.
“From a Southern lab, right? But your moves are purely anti-human. Trained to kill people, through and through. Me? I’m different.”
“…”
“I’ve slain countless monsters and Great Beasts up North. This body, with its Iron Blood Medal for high-grade Beast slaying—ain’t losing to some punk assassin…!!”
The brute kicked off the ground; the floor erupted.
He closed in instantly, flailing knuckled fists wildly.
His harnessed Aura Energy and brass knuckles tore the air.
Faint energy cloaked his punches.
Weak, but unmistakable Aura.
Guards and assassins flanked the charging brute, jabbing poison needles into blind spots his fists couldn’t reach.
I lopped off stabbing arms, snatched needles, and jammed them into collarbones in riposte.
Booted a foaming assassin into the brute.
The flung body exploded spine-first against his punch.
A moment’s silence.
I widened the gap swiftly, then lisped deliberately as I spoke.
“A Northern Front vet playing guard dog here?”
“…A Southern mutt dares—.”
“And looks like you’re finally feeling it.”
“What bullshit are you—.”
As the brute kicked off again—
He staggered.
Only then did he notice the needle in his thigh.
I’d flung the one from the collarbone at him while booting the assassin.
“……!!”
Killing hordes of Great Beasts didn’t make you one.
Poison doesn’t faze Great Beasts, but it drops humans.
Aura Energy practitioners included.
It just takes a bit longer.
Even after bagging high-grades.
Thinking you’re more than human? Delusional.
No level-ups or transcendence for slaying the first Great Beast.
I was still human, limits and all.
Twisted my wrist to draw the bracer blade.
Cheap steel already chipped.
The brute gaped to speak, then slumped powerlessly.
I stabbed his nape, severing the spine.
Thud. His massive bulk toppled back.
The ground shook; dust rose.
No death rattle.
A pathetic end, unlike his Iron Blood Medal boasts.
Before I could catch my breath, Astier’s signal came.
Our prearranged cue.
Faint, but clear to me.
I bolted toward it.
In a long hallway, Astier panted, face bloodied.
One leg dragging.
“…Sorry. He got away.”
“Which way?”
“East corridor. Heading for the emergency exit.”
I launched that way.
Circulated Aura Energy internally, boosting my physicals.
At the narrow passage’s end, a bloodstained coat flapping as someone fled fast.
Asren Park.