CHAPTER 109: Reverse Scale
Long ago, people saw dragons as docile yet mighty beasts that could be tamed and ridden. But even those dragons had a fatal weakness right on their bodies.
The reverse scale—the one scale growing backward on their necks. Touch it, and the dragon would surely kill you.
For me, my ultimate reverse scale was undoubtedly Aria. I had no intention of letting anyone who touched her get away with it. Hell, Aria was my reverse scale incarnate—I'd even consider murder, something I utterly despised.
And the next one down on that list?
Kraaang! Boom!
Karasho. My teacher, who had grabbed my hand and guided me through those aimless childhood days.
I ignored the aura I'd cranked to maximum, turning the surroundings into a total mess, and chased only the figure before my eyes. My head spun like a top, but all I could see was Zigmund.
My body burned like lava from pulling mana to its peak, but I didn't stop.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Expressionless, I swung my sword with killing intent at Zigmund. I knew it. I had no right to take anyone's life. No human had the right to steal another's, no matter how much of a piece of trash they were.
But this bastard isn't human.
Zigmund couldn't do this. Every other person in the world might get a pass, but not him—not to Karasho.
Even animals remember and follow the humans who raised them. A human in beast's clothing like Zigmund had no excuse.
His words just now were worse than a beast's.
How much did Teacher Karasho do for you!
Seething rage consumed me. Half out of my mind, I swung my sword like a madwoman born solely to kill him.
I vaguely felt wounds from Zigmund's sword and magic, but no pain registered. I wasn't in my right mind.
Zigmund had said it himself once. That Karasho was the one who'd saved him from near-burial in the snow and raised him. That she was his salvation.
And yet, how could you!
As Karasho's other disciple, I couldn't forgive Zigmund.
Boom!
"Urk!"
Zigmund's right shoulder, unable to keep up with my fully unleashed sword speed, got pierced by my blade's tip and spat blood.
He twisted away with a ragged groan through red lips, but I wouldn't give him time to check the wound.
This bastard thinks he can... underestimate me and get away with it...
I swallowed the surging emotions. It was shocking I could still get angrier.
"Kuhk."
My sword grazed into Zigmund's side. No time for him to feel pain—I pressed the attack.
"You messing around right now? Got nine lives or something? Or just arrogant? With that level of skill? You picked a fight with me? If you don't wanna die..."
Boom!
I stomped the ground with mana-infused force. A roar erupted as violent mana scattered everywhere.
Aiming for Zigmund's neck as his balance faltered from the side pain and shaking earth, I met his inscrutable purple eyes flickering over the blade between us.
"Draw your aura, you son of a bitch. Fight for real."
Aura was a swordsman's ultimate weapon. Until you could wield it, you were only half a swordsman.
Zigmund was a Sword Expert. He could definitely use aura.
Yet he hadn't drawn it. He had to be toying with me.
Zigmund, head tilted back from the sword at his throat, looked down at me. I knew the height difference made it unavoidable, but it pissed me off anyway.
"Eek!"
I smashed his knee with my free hand gripping his scabbard. Not full aura, but packed with strong mana, it sent him crumbling to kneel before me.
Finally at eye level, I glared down coldly.
"Draw your sword. Unleash your aura."
Still holding the blade to his throat, I intoned in a merciless voice.
Zigmund's shoulder twitched; he held his breath for a moment. Faint, but clear agitation.
Some reason he can't draw his aura?
I usually struggled to draw mine too. Black aura was Mir's signature, and I was hiding that identity for now.
But no one was around, we knew each other's secrets, and if he didn't draw it, he'd die by my hand. I couldn't understand why Zigmund still held back.
He glared up with unknowable eyes. The agitation had vanished.
I hate those eyes.
Those lifeless eyes, so changed from the past. Like...
A magic beast.
Those eerie purple pupils looked like a beast still moving despite being dead.
They weren't like that before.
Even as a boy, he hadn't brimmed with life. Too cold and quiet—uncanny, really.
...You idiot. That's not how you hold a sword. Think swinging it wildly like a maniac does shit?
Still, he hadn't been dead back then. A subtle spark lingered amid the winter chill.
But now? Zigmund wore such a thick mask of emotionlessness that I questioned if he even had feelings anymore. Instinctual revulsion hit me.
"Draw... your aura."
Zigmund muttered—not asking me, just thinking aloud. Eyes downcast briefly, he lifted the corner of his mouth in a deep smile.
A mesmerizing smile that could stop time.
"Don't wanna."
Boom!
My blade tip slammed into the ground where his thigh had been. He dodged fast, but a thin trickle of blood ran down his leg.
"Draw your aura."
"......Don't wanna."
I kicked his gut with all my strength; he sprawled, spitting gritty saliva. He'd somehow coated his abdomen in mana to avoid organ rupture, but not dodging now only fueled my rage.
"Draw it."
"Don't—gahk!"
Blind with fury, I pummeled Zigmund with kicks and punches nonstop. Bruises bloomed on his limbs; his lip split under my fists.
But I didn't use my sword. My pride wouldn't let me swing at someone refusing aura.
I attacked wildly without mana enhancement, like back when I barely knew the sword.
Apologize.
What?
Apologize for calling my little sister weak!
What... gahk!
A sudden flash of a similar past memory made me grit my teeth. Better not to remember.
I mounted Zigmund and beat him like a back-alley brawl—a little kid again.
Thud! Thud!
Zigmund had even dropped mana body reinforcement, just a normal person now. So was I, without sword or mana.
He didn't resist as his body turned to wreckage. Just stared with those unknowable eyes.
Not like him at all. My mood soured indescribably.
You bastard.
Breathing raggedly, I glared at Zigmund pinned under my arms, a battered mess on the ground. Filthy with dirt and blood.
He should've been in pain, but he just looked up.
"Eyes down, you piece of shit."
I hated it all—this situation, me, him. Everything.
My vision blurred briefly; I chalked it up to rage flipping my sight.
"......Don't wanna."
Zigmund, face swollen and bruised, lifted his split lip in a grin. For a split second, bitterness flickered in his smile—but probably my imagination.
Shing...
"Last chance. Draw your aura. Fight fair. Or I'll just kill you."
A few deep breaths, then I stood from his body, stomped his chest, grabbed my discarded sword, and aimed it at his throat again. Third time now.
"Kill me, huh..." Zigmund murmured quietly. His gaze shifted to the sharp blade. His reflection in it gleamed strangely.
Squelch.
Zigmund gripped the sword at his throat without hesitation.
This crazy bastard...
Startled, I tried to pull back, but his tighter grip stopped me. Yanking now would shred his palm completely.
His thin black glove tore on the blade, blood pouring through the gaps. The gruesome feel of flesh slicing and mashing...
I fought down nausea at the blood trickling along the edge.
"......Let go."
"See? You're still so weak and stupid, Kashmir."
His biting words clashed with the sweetly dripping curve of his lips. A beautiful lie of a smile.
Emotions boiled over; I held my breath. Undaunted by my murderous glare, Zigmund met my eyes squarely and tilted his head.
His dusty black hair fluttered with the motion.
"All those chances to kill me because of your stupid sentiment, and you never did."
I ground my teeth. Lava poured from every pore.
As my sword hand trembled, Zigmund chuckled softly, lifting his upper body while gripping the blade tight.
Squelch.
The chilling sound of steel piercing skin. Bringing his own throat to the tip, Zigmund's eyes gleamed hypnotically.
"Kill me. Try it."
"......Think I can't?"
"Yeah. You can't."
His utter certainty, without a hint of doubt, twisted my guts beyond recognition.
I clenched my teeth to crushing point. I wanted to do something, but this was all I could manage.
"......Your rootless mouth never shuts up, even with a blade at your throat."
"If you hate my mouth so much, kill me. Stop flapping yours if you don't have the guts."
Zigmund provoked leisurely, devilish temptation on his face. I let out a hollow laugh of a breath.
I couldn't hold back the rage anymore.
"Fine. As you wish."
I kicked his hands off my sword—the ones gripping from my earlier chest stomp.
Sword tip to his throat, I raised my gripping hand high to the sky.