Chapter 240
Chapter 240
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Night of the Sword
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Peerless Hero Jane.
Hero of Discernment Felix.
As masters of holy swords, they had unshakeable faith in themselves and the path they walked. But lately, they had come to recognize their own shortcomings.
"My god, Jane. Your realm jumped again in the meantime!? Incredible... Jane, you know it too, right!? Ever since coming to Bondales, you've been growing at an absurd pace!"
"...No, Elysia."
"What?"
"This is nothing..."
"What do you mean? At your age, you're already on the verge of the 7th realm, and you call that nothing?"
"Holy Sword... It's only possible because you, Elysia, are with me."
"Anyway!"
"Right! That's why we can't settle for this! I need to become even more— even more...! What do I call it— yeah! Like that guy Rishir!"
"..."
"Elysia! Don't you believe in me!?"
"Of course, Jane. You're the only hero beyond measure I acknowledge."
"Then tell me! Can I really become like Rishir!?"
"..."
"Elysia!?"
It was a side effect of lingering too long in Bondales, watching one man obsessively.
Rishir.
To the two heroes, he was a fellow master of a holy sword.
They couldn't help occasionally comparing themselves to him.
To them, Rishir was a close friend, a rival they yearned to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with, and an idol.
And so.
The two heroes, who had always led the way and served as examples to others, were now spending their days chasing a new role model.
"Felix. At this rate... we can't catch up to him with our own power alone..."
"Then?"
"Master. Let's seek her teachings once more...!"
"But do you think even Master is that different from us? Watching that guy's moves, I doubt she thinks much differently."
"..."
"..."
In any case.
The two heroes once again placed themselves under their Swordmaster mentor, seeking her guidance.
They found themselves growing alongside Iron Sword, who had regained her left hand through some event and was reclaiming her past prowess as a Swordmaster.
The heroes saw this expedition with their master as part of that mutual growth.
"No. As I've said many times, the purpose of this expedition isn't training. All crises and dangers become blood and flesh as experience for us swordsmen, but this time is different."
"...Master?"
"I asked you two to accompany me not as a master leading disciples. As one swordsman, I'm requesting aid from two heroes."
"Just what is the goal of this exped—"
And so, they had reached this moment.
The two heroes finally understood the true nature of their master's worries and resolve.
Grahk... grahk... grahk...
It was a guttural rasp of breath.
A pathetic stance.
No dignity or grace befitting a swordsman emanated from it.
Yet.
The Swordmaster and heroes watching it knew.
That guttural breath and pathetic stance.
They were the result of a swordsman abandoning everything for raw power alone.
"The Sword Beast."
"Sword Beast...?"
"The end for those devoured by a demon sword."
Contempt leaked unavoidably from Iron Sword's grave expression.
Along with fear of the unknown foe.
When they first heard the intel, they hadn't believed it. But it was real.
The worst opponent Iron Sword had imagined stood before her now.
"Swordsman. What is your name?"
Grahk... grahk... grahk...
The beast drooled as it stared blankly at Iron Sword.
As if the will in its eyes declared no name existed for this foolish beast.
A... A... Aah!!!
But a faint remnant of the swordsman's will cried out desperately.
Asorn!!! Asorn!!!!! Remember my name!!! The Fire Sword's name!!!
The beast spewed saliva and tears in its scream.
The two heroes were shocked.
That sword's name proved the beast had once been a proud Swordmaster.
"A Swordmaster... devoured by a sword's will...?"
The power that bewitched a Swordmaster.
The power that dominated a Swordmaster.
They were confused about what to be shocked by.
At that moment.
The Holy Sword of Discernment, Pozena, spoke.
"Can we save him?"
Peerless Hero Jane's face twisted at Pozena's following answer.
"An ancient Swordmaster...? How did he—"
Grahk.
Grahk.
Grahk.
As she spoke, the beast's breaths grew more guttural.
Its already hunched posture slumped further, now fully crawling on all fours like a beast.
"It's coming."
The moment Iron Sword spoke, the beast charged.
In its hand was a sword, its edge dulled to little more than a club.
The battle ended.
The two heroes now understood why a swordsman of their master's caliber had asked for their help.
Without them, Iron Sword might have met her end.
To a swordsman bereft of their sword—
no, to a beast.
That day.
The Swordmaster and heroes bore witness to the Night of the Sword.
The demon sword's voice calling to the swordsman dripped with blatant disdain.
Beasts who cloaked themselves in pride and honor, yet ultimately pursued violence and became enslaved to it.
The demon sword knew exactly how to handle such beasts.
"Illusion?"
"..."
Rishir found the sword's words tedious and pretentious.
More than that, letting it continue felt like drifting further from the original topic.
Rishir spoke to steer the conversation back.
"Nah. Whatever. Just show me that demon sword technique already."
The demon sword scorned the swordsman even as it felt secretly pleased.
A swordsman hungering for power was foolish.
Yet that foolishness was the essence of a swordsman, the quality demon swords desired in them.
The demon sword gauged the swordsman's power.
That immature strength fell far short of the standard it had once used to subjugate even Swordmasters.
For this paltry thing alone. After enduring endless eons in this hellish place!—the thought arose naturally.
Yet.
The demon sword reconsidered.
For now, it would settle for this.
This swordsman had somehow found his way near the seal and cried out for its power.
Proof of his hunger for power—and how much easier he would be to dominate than others.
Swordsmen who reached such a level always had strong egos, making control a hassle.
What the demon sword needed now was 'recovery.'
In that regard, this foolish swordsman made a fine 'vessel.'
"Huh?"
Rishir looked around.
The darkness filling the space churned.
Like paint splattered on canvas.
The darkness shifted, taking form, then color layered atop it.
It was a field.
A field devoured by chilling darkness.
An elf stood there.
"...!"
Rishir recognized the elf's face and jolted in shock.
A red-haired elf with flowing locks.
Star of the Flower Garden, Lunadien, stood there.
Rishir shuddered and stepped back.
Beside him stood a nude woman with black hair draping to her knees like a dress.
That sword from earlier?
Her black hair gleamed ominously with moonlight, emitting an inky sheen.
Rishir realized she was an avatar of that sword.
Yes.
Avatar.
Unlike ego swords where the sword was the avatar and human form the main body—
she was mimicking a human as a sword.
"Keep your eyes straight..."
The woman waved her hand at Rishir, who stared at her.
His head forcibly turned back toward Lunadien.
Grahk... grahk... grahk...
Sudden guttural breaths.
Rishir followed the sound with his gaze to see swordsmen spewing tears and saliva, screaming as they crawled on all fours toward Lunadien in grotesque stances.
"...!"
Rishir couldn't help but scoff at the sight.
He had finally encountered the full power of the green tower lord in the most unexpected way.
The field's grass bloomed into flowers, petals scattering everywhere.
The vast field was instantly blanketed in countless flying petals.
They began to move at Lunadien's gesture.
Shwaaaaa...
The massive wave of petals formed like a tsunami.
Rishir, craning his neck fully, shuddered at the power too vast for his vision.
The thought of it directed at him sapped his will instantly.
Grahk... grahk... grahk...
But the swordsmen were different.
Though Lunadien stood with the petal tsunami at her back, they charged without hesitation.
The tsunami crashed, shredding their flesh with petals—yet they didn't stop.
Most were utterly torn apart and swept away, but
some pierced the petal wave, reaching Lunadien.
They lunged at her in beast-like, grotesque-for-swordsmen stances, swinging their blades.
Clumsy at a glance, but the power within was something else.
Lunadien's petal barrier, formed of immense force, split under their swords.
The swordsmen ignored the petals shredding their bodies from all sides, chipping away at her barrier.
"..."
Then.
Lunadien's gaze shifted to the far field.
Her glamorous elven face twisted in clear distress at whatever she saw.
Petals swirled, engulfing her.
When the vortex of petals ceased.
Lunadien was gone.
The black-haired woman commented on the sequence.
Rishir vaguely sensed what he was seeing wasn't mere illusion.
This was a memory.
A recreation of memory.
The woman approached Rishir and spoke to him.
"Wielded by me... you can feel all the power you've witnessed in your own body..."
Her inky eyes, seeming to swallow even darkness, fixed on Rishir.
The greater a swordsman's interest in a demon sword's power, the stronger the demon sword's influence over the swordsman.
Convinced the swordsman before it was already hers, the demon sword smiled in satisfaction.
"..."
A moment later.
The swordsman's lips twitched.
Then he spoke.
"This is demon sword technique...?"
"..."
Rishir's head slowly turned to stare at the woman.
"Nah."
The world lost form again, reverting to darkness.
The black-haired woman dissolved, becoming mere metal once more.
Night of the Sword.