Chapter 171
Chapter 171
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: The Madman Whom Even History Feared to Remember, the Strongest Swordsman Never to Reappear in Continental History
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Palrag was the first to dismantle the ice barrier that had isolated the non-combatants from the Murder Ghost.
Afterward.
Lona and Fienne used their respective powers to aid in healing the wounded.
Palrag, who had clashed with the Murder Ghost, and the Gray Wolf priest were among them.
"How are you feeling now?"
"..."
Torben, who had received Lona's healing, examined his body with a surprised expression.
This cavern was a world created by the barrier that had formed the Murder Ghost's existence.
He realized too late, but the barrier had been siphoning their strength bit by bit.
On top of that, the intense battle had left them severely depleted.
Injuries that would require long-term care from skilled priests and healers to mend.
Such wounds had been healed with a single touch from Lona.
Torben expressed his clear gratitude to Lona, even as he felt flustered.
"Thank you. I've incurred a great debt. I'll remember this. May I have your name?"
Lona responded with her characteristic refreshing smile.
"Gray Wolf Torben. You don't need to remember me."
"What do you mean—"
"The reason I'm helping you is solely for Rishir's sake. I only hope this improves things between you and him."
"..."
"Well then."
The woman with androgynous beauty gave a slight bow and returned to Rishir's side.
Gorein and Torben.
The two swordsmen had already forgotten the fierce battle from before and were now entirely focused on that man named Rishir.
To possess abilities beyond comprehension at such a young age, along with extraordinary companions.
And the swordsmen interested in Rishir weren't just the two of them.
"Lord Ronhart."
Torben cautiously called the name.
The Prime Sword.
The will of that great swordsman was gazing intently at Rishir.
-Speak, Lord Torben.
"As I mentioned. The one who saved you from the barrier was that man, Rishir. He was also the one who triumphed in the spirit duel where we had faltered."
-...And above all, it was that child who received the Murder Ghost's teachings.
"Yes."
How had he instantly dismantled the Murder Ghost's intricate swordsmanship?
Torben recalled Rishir's answer to that.
"He said that within his inner world, he harbors the owner of that body."
-...
Hmm.
The Prime Sword let out a deep, profound hum.
Torben sensed the depth of anguish in it and asked.
"Just who is this Klana that has you so troubled?"
Setting aside the eccentricity of harboring another's will in one's inner world.
It didn't seem like that was the source of the Prime Sword's torment.
Torben glanced at the fallen Murder Ghost on the ground.
"I, Torben, have walked the path of the sword for ages that have wearied me to exhaustion. Yet this is the first time I've encountered such a sword. It's as if killing intent itself took form. Surely that's what a beast wielding a blade would look like?"
-A beast...
Only then did the Prime Sword look at the fallen Murder Ghost.
-Lord Torben. Have you ever seen a beast that masters and dominates its own instincts?
"You mean..."
-She is no beast. She is distinctly different, having thoroughly understood and tamed her instincts.
"Tamed..."
-She willingly surrenders herself to her instincts yet never loses herself. A monster who revels in that vicious chaos like potent liquor. That is her essence.
What was there to hide?
The Prime Sword poured out everything he knew about the Blue Lotus to the priests.
Her countless atrocities.
Her inaction that never lost its luster amid any humiliation or dishonor.
Deeper bewilderment clouded the priests' gazes upon the Murder Ghost.
Gorein muttered in a daze.
"Sword Fiend..."
-Indeed. Perhaps that's the most perfect way to describe her.
Sword Fiend.
A deviant sword that wields the swordsman, or the name for the freak who merges with such a sword.
The sword and swordsmanship they leave behind become phenomena that erode the world.
Murder Ghost.
The two priests' faces darkened with grave concern upon realizing the identity of the swordsmanship guardian Rishir harbored in his inner world.
"Rishir... that kid, is he going to be okay?"
Gorein asked in a worried tone.
The Gray Wolf could not answer.
The Prime Sword could not answer either.
For now, Rishir appeared perfectly fine.
Yet they could not guarantee his future.
-Lord Torben. Gorein.
The Prime Sword knew the Murder Ghost's form in life.
Even her cruel and grotesque final moments.
As the teacher of countless swordsmen, he could not stand by and watch a promising young swordsman undergo that horrific process.
-I wish to help that child.
"..."
Rishir.
He stood before the Murder Ghost's corpse.
The intruder's soul had been expelled, leaving only the flesh behind.
In other words, it was now purely Klana.
Thus, what Rishir saw was Klana's death.
Another death, insultingly recreated.
Rishir felt a pang of bitterness and displeasure at it.
-What's this? Feeling pity?
Klana, who had been watching Rishir, spoke.
-Don't read too much into it. You merely broke a toy that some deranged mage was playing with.
"...Actually, I was trying to think of words to comfort Klana. But now I've ended up being the one comforted."
-Comfort? What reason do I have to need comfort?
Rishir gave a wry smile and nodded.
"Now that I think about it, you're right."
-Or is there another reason?
"Another reason?"
-You're a man in your prime, aren't you? With such a perfect female body laid bare, your eyes are bound to wander.
Rishir burst into laughter.
As expected of the Murder Ghost.
To say about her own corpse, 'I know, my figure is killer. It's enough to drive you mad.'
-So? What do you think.
"What do you mean?"
-You ogled it without permission. Give me your impressions.
In Rishir's mind, an image formed of the Murder Ghost leaning cockily, staring at him.
Her signature haughty expression seemed somehow mischievous.
"Impressions..."
-Once, I saw a noblewoman's breasts, and mine were strikingly brighter in hue by comparison.
"..."
-And look there. Oddly, I had no body hair there. Don't men like that?
"Well... in our line of work, opinions are deeply divided on that profound topic..."
Klana grew even more amused seeing Rishir squirm.
-Oh? Then what do you think?
"What do you mean..."
-My body. Don't try to brush it off with something vague like 'perfectly honed.' I know that better than you.
"..."
As Rishir was utterly defenseless, reinforcements arrived.
-You lewd wench! Finally revealing your true nature! Trying to seduce my dear with a fresh-slaughtered pig carcass!!!
It was a fairly potent strike, but—
-Your ears are a bit red. Don't tell me you're aroused by a woman's corpse? You're in deep trouble, boy.
It had no effect on the Murder Ghost, whose amusement had peaked and who held absolute confidence in her body.
After much deliberation, Rishir made his decision.
He closed his eyes solemnly before what had been Klana.
And murmured reverently.
"The madman whom even history feared to remember, the strongest swordsman never to appear again in continental history... closing his eyes once more here..."
-...
Klana's giggling ceased abruptly.
Her voice no longer sounded.
Instead—
Bang!
Bang bang bang!!!
The sounds of the Murder Ghost rampaging in his inner world echoed.
Fienne and Lona, who had been watching Rishir from afar.
They confirmed his expression shift from bitterness to amusement and only then approached.
"Rishir, aren't you staring a bit too intently?"
"Exactly. Even if it's ownerless, it's still a lady's body. Maybe show a little more respect?"
Now.
Even after subduing(?) the sexual harasser ghost, Rishir was still gazing at the Murder Ghost's remains.
"Huh? Oh."
Absorbed in thought, he belatedly noticed Lona and Fienne drawing near and spoke.
"No, it's just... a thought crossed my mind."
"A thought? What kind?"
"Doesn't this feel like a waste?"
"..."
"..."
"It's replicated so perfectly. Isn't there some way to make use of it?"
Step.
Step.
Lona and Fienne backed away from him.
"Rishir, Rishir? What... do you mean by that...?"
"Y-you're serious...?"
Their eyes and voices trembled mercilessly.
"Of course I'm serious. Remember? One of my spirits is Klana. This body was hers. And just now, another soul possessed and controlled it. Maybe Klana could do the same."
Ah.
The two nodded in unison.
Sighs of relief followed.
"Phew. For a second there..."
"Why say something so misleading and scare us?"
"Huh? Misleading? What do you mean?"
Rishir looked at them with innocently clear eyes.
"...Nothing. Don't worry about it."
Fienne and Lona felt a strange self-loathing and took a moment for introspection.
"Sounds like an interesting conversation."
At that moment.
Dray approached from where he had been talking with Palrag at a distance.
"Ah, Sir Dray. Are you feeling better?"
"No. I'm serious right now."
"What!? What's wrong!?"
"I wanted to watch your fight up close, but Lord Palrag hogged it all—"
Ugh.
Rishir was speechless at Dray clenching his fist in genuine frustration, not a joke.
"Anyway, Rishir."
Palrag took over the conversation, leaving Dray behind.
"I hear you want to revive your spirit inside that body?"
"Yes. It's a waste, isn't it? The barrier, the body—both seem crafted with such elaborate, tricky methods. Destroying them outright feels wrong. If we repurpose them appropriately, couldn't it serve as ample compensation for this ordeal?"
"Excellent. Very pragmatic. As expected, your essence lies in magic, no matter what anyone says."
"Lord Palrag?"
Palrag patted Rishir's shoulder with an oddly awkward tone.
Given the situation, he was wary of the 'swordsman' proportion growing within Rishir.
"Come to think of it, your lovers have special abilities, don't they?"
Palrag said as something occurred to him.
"Lovers?"
"Lovers?"
Who did he mean?
No respect for elders on this topic.
Lona and Fienne glared at the grand mage with shining eyes.
Overpowered by the ladies' momentum, the grand mage cleared his throat awkwardly and hastily corrected himself.
"N-not specifying anyone in particular. You have the power to heal bodies, and you have the power to strengthen souls. Right?"
A masterful evasion dripping with the grand mage's savvy.
The two ladies nodded grudgingly.
"Hm, let's see..."
After brief but deep contemplation, the grand mage spoke.
"It's not entirely impossible."
"Oh. Really?"
"But is that okay?"
"Pardon?"
"Reviving the madman whom even history feared to remember, the strongest swordsman never to appear again in continental history."
"Ah."
Fienne nodded in agreement.
"Yeah? That, history thing? What was it?"
"The madman whom even history feared to remember, the strongest swordsman never to appear again in continental history."
Rishir eagerly supplied it.
"Ah, thanks, Rishir. The madman whom even history feared to remember, the strongest swordsman never to appear again in continental history... Seems like someone who wielded pretty dangerous power."
"The madman whom even history feared to remember, the strongest swordsman never to appear again in continental history..."
Lona murmured gravely.
"Can we really control her if we revive her?"
"Yes. That won't be an issue."
Rishir answered without hesitation.
Because the Murder Ghost he had first encountered was nowhere to be seen in her current rampage within his inner world.
Rishir's party exited the site while Palrag preserved the barrier with his power.
Immediately after leaving, their attention focused on one thing.
Repurposing the 'legacy' left by the nameless mage.
Thus, they dispersed, each assigned their roles.
Even Dray and Gus received tasks.
Gathering rare materials for the ritual.
"Then what should I do?"
"Ah. Just stay put. You might need to step in if something comes up. Conserve your strength."
"...What 'something' are you expecting?"
"Who knows. Anyway, with you here, it'll work out somehow."
"Lord Palrag. Are you alright?"
With everyone gone, only Rishir and Torben's group remained in the room.
Then.
Torben brought it up as if he had been waiting.
Precisely, the ego of the Prime Sword within the sword he held.
-Child. Would you like to learn the sword from me?
"Rishir. This is Lord Ronhart, the great swordsman remembered by history. Every sword technique of the great swordsmen contains his will."
"...!"
Hearing that, Rishir fell into thought.
"The swordsman history doesn't remember versus the one it does... Which should I choose..."
What's that supposed to mean?
It was a voice from his inner world.
'Ah. I'm just returning the favor since Klana started it first? Anyway, what do you think of the offer, Klana?'
Before Klana could reply, the Prime Sword spoke in an urgent tone.
-Child. I promise you this. I'll impart to you the ultimate essence of my sword. It won't be easy. But this sword will surely save you.
In that moment.
The sword imbued with the Prime Sword's will glowed.
"..."
Torben's eyes gleamed.
The Gray Wolf's body had accepted the Prime Sword's will.
"With your caliber, you'll surely sense something from this strike."
Torben—
no, the Prime Sword—gripped the sword with both hands, tensing, and focused all his nerves.
The flow of mana.
The intent contained within.
"...!"
Rishir watched with wide eyes.
"..."
As expected.
The Prime Sword inwardly smiled with satisfaction at the reaction and swung the sword.
A single strike, yet—
it contained the subtleties and intent that formed the entirety of the sword.
It was the sword he had held just before his death—
honed to its limit through the most grueling battle of his life.
"Tell me, young and talented child. What did you feel from this sword?"
The Prime Sword looked into Rishir's eyes.
Those upright, pure eyes would recognize the value within this sword.
A value absent in the Murder Ghost's deviant Sword Fiend.
The Prime Sword awaited the response with expectation.
"Uh... So that was your swordsmanship?"
"?"
At that moment.
Gorein, who had been reverently witnessing the Prime Sword's technique, let out an odd hum.
The swordsmanship Rishir had supposedly learned from someone to face the Murder Ghost.
And the strike the Prime Sword had just demonstrated.
Were the similarities between them just his imagination?
Gorein considered the possibilities.
1. The Murder Ghost stole the Prime Sword's profound enlightenment-laden swordsmanship.
2. And Rishir stole it from the Murder Ghost.
3. In the brief span of the ongoing battle.
Gorein nodded.
'Just my imagination.'