Chapter 146
Chapter 146
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: One-Armed
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Her stern yet refined expression twisted ferociously.
Iron Sword Dwenn.
She glared at Rishir, veins bulging around her eyes.
To understand the situation unfolding around her.
To gauge her opponent.
The swordsman's pride had ignited.
It was no longer the tender gaze she reserved for her disciple and benefactor.
It was the face of a Swordmaster measuring a worthy rival.
Then.
"Yes!"
Rishir shouted in triumph, blood gushing from every orifice on his face.
"..."
The tension around Dwenn's eyes eased naturally.
Very humbly.
Afterward, the satisfied(?) Palag returned to his dwelling.
Only Rishir and Dwenn's group remained.
Rishir wiped the bloodstains from his face with a familiar handkerchief from his pocket and spoke to Dwenn.
"Thank you. Thanks to you, I got to experience so much."
Dwenn's stern expression softened slightly into a wry smile.
"To confess honestly, during our bout... I felt no small disappointment in you."
"...Is that so?"
"I thought you fell short of the expectations I placed on you so willfully. It's shameful. In that sense, it feels like words I should be saying."
Dwenn swept away the wry smile with a gentle one.
"Thank you. Sparring with you. And my defeat. From it, I've experienced much... and learned even more."
For a powerhouse of Dwenn's caliber to admit defeat so readily.
Thus acknowledging victory.
In any other circumstance, it would have brought immense satisfaction.
"..."
Yet Rishir felt a bitter taste linger in his mouth.
His gaze drifted naturally to Dwenn's left hand.
After the bout ended, she'd been fiddling with it out of habit.
Dwenn, a swordswoman herself, harbored resentment over her defeat.
If only I could have used my left hand—what would the outcome have been?
It was only natural for such thoughts to seize her.
"Thank you for saying so."
Rishir extended his left hand toward Dwenn.
"..."
Dwenn hesitated a moment before offering the hand devoured by the monstrosity.
Dwenn's left hand, claimed by the monstrosity, touched Rishir's once more.
"Might I ask one favor?"
"Speak it."
Then Rishir enveloped her left hand completely with both of his.
"If that hand ever heals, then... please grant me one more bout."
"..."
Dwenn's stern expression crumbled entirely.
Wearing a soft smile, she reciprocated by enveloping his hand completely with both of hers.
"Gladly."
"..."
Jain and Felix watched the scene from nearby.
The two disciples wore smiles that were bright yet bittersweet.
Dwenn's soft smile.
In it, they glimpsed their master's vulnerability for the first time.
Dwenn. Deep down, she had already resolved it.
Her left hand would never heal.
Thus, she could never keep her promise to Rishir.
The next time she faced him.
Smiling at each other like this would be impossible.
Despite their master's efforts to maintain her composure, the disciples' eyes reddened.
Jain.
He schooled his expression before speaking to Rishir.
"Rishir. Free this evening by any chance?"
"Evening? Well, no plans."
"Then how about dinner at my mansion tonight? Our party. Felix's party. You. And Master. All of us, rowdy and together."
"Whoa, yeah!"
Felix jumped in eagerly.
"After eating, we spar. Me or Jain this time. You didn't think you'd humiliate Master right in front of us and walk away fine, did you?"
"..."
Dwenn stared at her two disciples in surprise.
"Ah, sounds perfect."
Rishir responded to their proposal with evident delight.
Now only Dwenn's thoughts remained.
All eyes turned to her.
"..."
After brief contemplation, Dwenn understood.
Why her disciples were acting this way so suddenly.
She formed the same bright yet bittersweet smile and nodded.
"..."
The air around them grew oppressively heavy.
As if echoing the superhuman's resignation.
Iron Sword Dwenn.
Her eyes were closed.
"Master, no!!!"
Her disciple's desperate cry.
She pressed on regardless—what thoughts swirled within?
Only she knew.
A moment later.
Her eyes reopened, filled with resolve.
Regret and despair that not even that fierce determination could fully dispel.
She extended her left hand in silence.
"We express our regrets."
Someone spoke in a gentle voice.
At the same instant, a flash blazed—
And the Swordmaster's left arm was severed.
"Ah, starting to get pumped? Right, Felix?"
"Totally. How long's it been since we last had Master's cooking."
Rishir eyed the two hyped-up disciples with anticipation.
"Is Dwenn's cooking really that good?"
"Oh, it's good. Really good."
"Great in all sorts of ways. Rishir, today's gonna stick with you. Like it did us."
That loaded tone made Rishir realize belatedly.
Jain and Felix's faces brimmed with mischief.
"Rishir, pay them no mind."
The master called her disciples to task sternly.
"They're just making a fuss. Everyone who's tried my cooking has heaped praise without end."
"..."
Rishir sensed an odd unease in Dwenn's confident look.
A Swordmaster cooking for you—who'd call it bad?
"I can guess what you're thinking."
"Oh, just how excited I am."
Their arms overflowed with market-bought groceries.
With buoyant steps, they headed for Jain's mansion, tonight's feast hall.
Through the market street, past the main avenue.
That's when they turned into the alley Jain and Felix swore was a shortcut.
"..."
Dwenn's easygoing air snapped taut in a heartbeat.
She set the baggage down carefully, then drew her blade.
"...!"
Rishir and the two disciples followed her lead.
Thud. Thud.
They'd sensed an ill omen closing from around the corner.
Moments later.
The presence's source emerged—
"..."
Ah.
Dwenn sighed shortly and sheathed her sword.
"Master...!?"
"Sheathe your blades, everyone. They're not our foes."
"Quite right."
The group blocking Rishir's path.
Their apparent leader affirmed Dwenn's words.
A woman whose gentle demeanor felt strangely off-putting.
"..."
She glanced at Dwenn's left hand, then spoke with a serene expression to match.
"We've come to aid Iron Sword."
"Aid...?"
The woman nodded at Jain's query.
"Yes. To lighten the sins she bears."
"No way...!"
Felix perked up, staring at Dwenn's left hand.
"You know how to heal that left hand!?"
"..."
The woman offered no reply.
Only a gentle smile.
She addressed Dwenn.
"Iron Sword. You recall your vow to us, the 'True Ones'? You swore you'd master that monstrosity completely."
Yet.
The words carried heavy implication.
"True Ones...!"
"Those zealots—why with Master—"
Jain and Felix reacted sharply.
"..."
Meanwhile, Dwenn closed in on her disciples.
It happened in a flash.
An unforeseen strike.
"Urk!"
"Maste—...!"
Jain and Felix.
Dwenn's abrupt assault knocked them unconscious.
"Dwenn, what...!"
She turned to the stunned Rishir.
"It was necessary."
Her expression, gravely stern.
Rishir read the profound anguish beneath and fell silent.
Rip!
Dwenn tore away her left sleeve, binding it tight above the elbow.
Thus baring the monstrosity's hold on her left hand, she advanced on the woman.
The woman met her, drawing.
Shing.
Dwenn had vowed to her faction.
To fully subdue the monstrosity.
She'd failed. This was the fallout.
Now they intervened.
To 'sever' what had merged with Dwenn.
"W-wait...!"
Rishir, grasping the gist, cried out.
"Please, just hold on! I beg you—a little time...! It'll be fine, I swear!!!"
"That's not yours to decide."
The woman answered.
Sword in one hand, she drew something from her bosom with the other.
"That's..."
Faded cloth.
The sacred 'Saint's Remains'—a holy shroud.
A relic that absorbed impure energies.
"The Bearer shall shoulder the sins and suffering of the deluded."
She held it aloft.
"This is the mercy granted one soul. Should it fail to claim all her sins—"
She tightened her grip on the sword instead of finishing.
As though the end were scripted.
"No, hear me out!!! I've already started countermeasures!!! Just three days—no, one day—"
"Sins Iron Sword herself couldn't contain."
The woman cut him off, voice edged with zeal.
"Beyond your capacity. Spare us Iron Sword's hubris."
Truth was, the instant the monstrosity claimed Dwenn's hand, her fate was sealed.
Monstrosities demanded destruction, not purification.
No relic could cleanse their foul essence.
Amputation was the sole recourse.
This ritual? Mercy, as she claimed—a mere formality.
Barring miracle, nothing would change.
"We express our regrets."
The woman pressed the relic to Dwenn's left hand.
Her sword already poised, gleaming.
The instant it flashed—
"That!!! That reaction! Doesn't it mean it's fine!?"
Rishir jabbed at the relic.
The woman sighed without looking.
"The Remains blackening signals saturation, not cleansing. Her sins overwhelm even saintly mercy."
"Blackening... then whitening!?"
The woman's face twitched faintly.
The relic bleaching white on contact with monstrosity.
What trickery?
Implying their sacred vessel—imbued with His essence—was filthier?
"Interfere further and you'll—"
Patience frayed.
As her chilling threat formed—
Her words halted.
The faded cloth.
It gleamed pure white.
The relic, touched by monstrosity, stood purified.