Chapter 466: Proof of Existence (54)
Chapter 466: Proof of Existence (54)
The woman quietly gazing up at the sky was as beautiful as a painting. Her peaceful face reflected the starlight like a calm lake.
Because her demeanor was so nonchalant, I asked back instinctively.
“…Is it still that way now?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
However, it wasn't an answer that made sense.
Was she not a woman who had been betrayed by the person she trusted most? Since that day, she had lived like a broken shell of herself—how many times must she have cursed God?
Despite that, my doubts never formed into words.
The woman’s gaze slowly returned to me. A guileless, clear smile played in her eyes, tickling my heart as it passed.
Sometimes, eyes convey more emotion than words ever could.
Faced with that gaze brimming with affection, I had no choice but to turn away, my face flushing red.
“Because I met you.”
The night was deepening relentlessly.
Yuren clicked his tongue and turned away.
Blood was flowing uncontrollably from the fallen man’s body. No matter how high a level a martial artist reached, they would lose their life before long after suffering that much blood loss.
Besides, he didn't even have the chance to consume a healing potion, did he?
Even if he regained consciousness with a will of steel, there was no hope. Yuren’s Aura was like a poison; once it spread through the entire body, he wouldn't be able to move a muscle.
At the very least, if the Saintess were there, she might be able to treat him.
Yuren’s sharp gaze turned toward the Saintess. Tears streaming down her face, the woman was currently in the midst of a frantic struggle.
“Le-let him go… Let him go right now! Ian, Ian…! If this keeps up, he’s really going to die!!”
“You continue to do foolish things until the very end.”
Letting out a deep sigh, Yuren wore a bitter smile.
“It is merely a small sacrifice. By sacrificing a few orphans, you can help countless more orphans later. Why can’t you realize this simple truth?”
“Stop talking nonsense and let him go this instant…!”
“Will you also make a foolish choice, Sister?”
At those words, the startled Saintess’s eyes stared blankly at her palm.
The Blood Essence.
If she only had this sacrifice, she could save Ian. It felt as if a ray of light had suddenly pierced through the darkness.
Gulp.
The Saintess swallowed hard. If she closed her eyes just once—just this once—she could save the life of the man she loved.
Did a woman even exist who wouldn't succumb to this temptation?
Her trembling fingers curled and uncurled repeatedly. All she had to do was clutch the sphere tight and offer a prayer. Could such an act truly be called wrong?
The Saintess was already out of her mind.
“It’s a sin you’ve already committed anyway, isn't it?”
Yuren’s sweet temptation whispered in the Saintess’s ear.
Her final shred of self-restraint was gradually crumbling.
“You said you would even throw away your name to live as a Saintess… but what help has the Heavenly God actually given you? You achieved nothing on your own, Sister. Everything was accomplished with our help… Is there any reason today should be different?”
“I, I…”
“Offer your prayer, Sister.”
Yuren spoke with his usual benevolent smile.
“Ian is waiting for—”
“…Don’t, run.”
Silence.
It was a faint voice at best. It was the volume of someone squeezing out the very last of their lungs.
The eyes of the Saintess and Yuren slowly turned toward the source.
Twitching, the blood-soaked body convulsed.
“I won’t… run away…”
Muttering something, the battered body attempted to stand upon the ground.
Golden eyes rose from the darkness, scattering a thick radiance. A ghostly flame scorched the air.
Yuren’s brow furrowed.
This shouldn't be possible. Those struck by Yuren’s Aura were supposed to gradually slow down until their bodies stiffened completely.
It was only normal that he shouldn't be able to move.
That was why Yuren thought it was over. Yet, right now, that man was picking himself up.
Common sense and reality were clashing in discord. Yuren could only stare at Ian with wide eyes for a moment.
“I won’t… act… cowardly…”
“You, what are you talking about…!”
“What someone… wheeze… told me.”
Haaa. Taking a ragged breath, the man finally stood firm upon the earth.
A faint brilliance dwelled within his blood-stained golden eyes.
“And, what I should have said to you a long time ago.”
“…You crazy bastard!”
Sometimes, humans are seized by terror when they witness a sight that transcends imagination.
That was Yuren’s state right now.
As if having a fit, the man drew his sword and charged. Ian’s hand was fumbling inside his clothes.
His intention to pull out a healing potion was obvious.
But Yuren wouldn't let that happen.
Yuren was a Master of Swift Swords. He was confident he could pierce Ian’s heart before his hand could move.
If only those blood-red characters hadn't been engraved in the air before his eyes.
The air bled. The surrounding mana took on heat and was sucked into the wound.
The next moment, as Yuren hesitated with wide eyes—
Boom!
With an explosion, heat scattered in all directions. Yuren couldn't withstand the impact and rolled across the ground. The flames catching on his tail fur caused him even more agony.
“Aaaargh! Ian, you son of a…!”
Yuren hurriedly rubbed his tail against the ground to extinguish the fire. The sound of him grinding his teeth echoed through the air.
Blood vessels stood out in the Fiend’s eyes.
Behind the rising haze, he could see Ian gulping down a healing potion. To be honest, Yuren had considered taking him hostage, but he realized it now.
This man was too dangerous.
He could not be left alive.
Though he had allowed one opening, the state of the battle was still overwhelmingly in Yuren’s favor. The Gray Lesion spreading through Ian’s body would lead Yuren to victory.
It was a power received through a contract with the Evil God.
Yuren was no ordinary Fiend. He had formed a deep contract and exchanged with the Dark Cult, possessing power equivalent to a Dark Priest. In terms of the power received from the Evil God alone, Yuren even held an advantage over Mitram.
The gray Aura that would cause one to fall behind forever if it grazed them even once.
Yuren believed in that power. Unlike the Heavenly God, the Evil God had never disappointed him.
With that, Yuren’s body kicked off the ground and shot forward.
He didn't even need to go all out. His opponent was already as slow as could be.
Accurately, even if a bit slowly.
Immediately after Yuren’s sword drew a gray trajectory with all its might—
Clang!
A collision sound that shouldn't have been heard rang out.
Yuren stared blankly at his sword, which had been deflected. This shouldn't be happening, yet Yuren’s sword had struck something and failed to complete its objective.
A Silver Aura blazed like a fire.
Yuren’s vision was almost entirely dyed in silver. His instincts, witnessing this, immediately sounded an alarm.
He had to block it.
The Aura was shrinking like a flower bud. The light of an Aura nearing its Blooming becomes more intense than ever.
Just like right now.
Letting out a scream, Yuren thrust his sword with all his strength.
“Ian…!”
In an instant, dozens of gray branches reached out.
Even when Ian’s body was whole, it would have been difficult to parry such a Swift Sword Technique. Yuren’s reason was telling him that the victory was already decided.
And yet, why.
Why was Yuren’s heart so anxious?
Clang! A silver flower bud bloomed.
The Silver Aura covered Ian’s entire body like a mist. It was impossible for even dozens of stabs to pierce that barrier.
Sword met sword.
Sparks harmonized profusely. Every time the sharp metallic sound rang out, the shock in Yuren’s eyes deepened.
He was getting faster.
It was as if only the world Ian stood upon was repeating its acceleration.
Beyond the limit that Yuren’s hand could reach.
An exchange that split moments into even smaller moments continued endlessly. In the midst of it, Yuren suddenly felt a sense of déjà vu.
Time was so slow.
In the stagnant flow, Yuren’s body couldn't move properly, as if he had fallen into a lake. In this heavy world, Ian was the only one maintaining his speed.
He was falling further and further behind.
Yuren felt a suffocating terror at that fact. At this rate, the direction of victory and defeat was clear.
It was nonsense. Had he not lived all these years struggling not to fall behind, struggling not to die?
His concentration, pushed to the limit, briefly dredged up an image from the past.
On the day the Saintess became the 'Saintess,' Yuren had been so afraid. Unlike his sister, who was his mental pillar, he was merely an orphan who was somewhat good with a blade.
As his skills stagnated, Yuren’s fear grew even more intense.
Falling behind. Being abandoned.
And then, death.
He hated it. Yuren wanted to stay by his sister’s side and see the new world she would create.
It was then that the Dark Cult had found him in his despair.
And yet, to die now.
He had struggled, giving everything he had. He couldn't die a dog’s death like this.
Ultimately, unable to overcome his anxiety, Yuren’s sword lunged deep into Ian’s chest. Stepping forward, it was a certain-kill strike with added speed and power.
That was his fatal mistake.
He felt no sensation of impact.
Ian’s body spun, rotating. As if dancing along Yuren’s sword.
It was a technique Yuren knew well.
Secret Ritual Technique: Turning Cut.
He had been caught.
Yuren wanted to use his tail to check Ian, who had taken his rear. But before he could, a hand axe pinned Yuren’s tail, fur and all, to the ground.
“Aaaaaargh!”
The scream ended, and a cold sensation touched Yuren’s neck.
It was a blade.
Ian’s body was a mess. Due to the massive blood loss, his eyes were unfocused, his limbs were trembling, and there wasn't a single part of him from his hair to his toes that wasn't soaked in blood.
But he was the final victor.
Yuren let out a hollow, incredulous laugh. Soon, a dry voice was thrown at him.
“…Last words.”
Just two syllables, but the meaning was clear.
Yuren closed his eyes for a moment, lost in thought. Words to leave behind at the very end.
His deliberation didn't last long.
By the time Yuren opened his eyes again, a smirk hung on his lips.
“Don’t tell me to take good care of the Saintess.”
A bewildered gaze turned toward Ian. Yet, there was no change in the man’s expression.
“Because that… is a given.”
At that, Yuren’s eyes widened in surprise.
Then, he burst into a boisterous laugh and spoke.
“Bullshit… you womanizing bastard…”
That was the end.
Yuren’s head flew into the air, and blood erupted like a fountain, pouring down like a torrential rain.
In the midst of the blood-red downpour, Ian closed his eyes and quietly brought his hands together.
“…Immanuel.”
Mourning the death of the one who was once his friend.