Chapter 242
Chapter 242
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Demon Swordsman
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'This is actually working.'
Rishir was experiencing an indescribable, bizarre sensation.
If he had to pin it down somehow—
Irresponsible pleasure.
No.
Irresponsible demon swordsmanship.
Something like that.
Demon swordsmanship, a power that outright denied all reason, came hand-in-hand with massive side effects whenever it was wielded.
From immediate overload to the rapid drain on stamina and mental strength.
Even Rishir, hardened through repeated training and adaptation, couldn't fully escape those repercussions.
If he dedicated two hours a day to training—
The time he could actually spend on demon swordsmanship was less than five minutes.
Just barely crossing that 'line' would build up enough damage and fatigue to disrupt his daily life.
In that regard,
His current state granted him a profound sense of deviance.
And on top of it, a liberating rush bordering on omnipotence!
'I'm this energized?'
He had crossed the 'line' long ago.
He was applying 'demon swordsmanship' at intensities unimaginable during normal practice.
Yet his body felt this solid. This leisurely.
He could probably unleash demon swordsmanship several more times.
Rishir was certain.
'The demon sword... is shouldering the burden I should bear entirely—'
Bewilderment hit first.
'How is this even possible?'
This wasn't some external impact.
Not the sort of damage armor or a shield could block and mitigate.
Side effects from overtaxing one's own power.
A natural bodily response!
The only counters were raising the threshold through training or patching up the damage afterward.
In truth,
Most of Rishir's efforts to expand his demon swordsmanship had been confined to those areas.
Push his body to the brink in training.
Rest thoroughly afterward.
—I'm about to overload from here on out; any wise ways to overload?
Asking that around would just earn awkward stares.
But directly alleviating the overload's burden like this?
He hadn't dared imagine it.
'Maybe... it's natural? In the demon sword world, this is standard.'
Rishir recalled his predicament once more.
'Right now... I've handed myself over to the demon sword... the demon sword's own demon sword...'
Then,
Rishir revisited the memories the demon sword had shown him.
Swordsmen dominated by the demon sword, reduced to mere beasts.
They had wielded its power and paid the price by stepping onto the path of ruin.
The demon sword, however?
The jet-black blade remained perfectly preserved, without so much as a nick.
As Dangleon had said—
A demon sword was a tool that never consumed itself.
The one who gripped the demon sword would instead be gripped by it—
What the demon sword consumed was always the wielder's power and very existence.
In other words—
'In this state, I can wield demon swordsmanship without any personal cost? By burning through the 'user's' power?'
Rishir wore a meaningful smile.
He immediately retracted his prior judgments.
This demon sword offers no help to my demon swordsmanship?
'No.'
Therefore, this demon sword is utterly useless junk?
'No!?'
In this instant!
Rishir felt the fated thread connecting his demon swordsmanship and the demon sword.
'Exactly. The names aren't similar for nothing.'
We.
Might actually suit each other perfectly.
-Caak...!!! Caak...!!! Kiaaahahaha!!!
The demon swordsman roared.
Expressing his overflowing ecstasy.
A sandstorm swirled around the demon swordsman.
Black flames rose, spiraling in its convection.
The demon swordsman dashed madly within the flame vortex.
The result of unleashing the ultimate secret art known as 'demon swordsmanship' without a target.
"Wh-what is that...?"
"Is it... excited?"
The Broken Glass party, watching from afar, muttered in dismay.
-Beast... stop this instant...!!! If you challenge me further... I'll thoroughly ravage your pathetic existence...!!!
At that moment.
A voice echoed from within the helmet.
Rishir once again felt the position of the 'sword'.
He was currently gripped in someone's hand, and that hand was violently exerting force to compel his actions.
But that force was woefully inadequate to control him.
Far from control—it couldn't even halt his movements.
Rishir realized anew.
The demon sword's feelings, as it ruined people's fates with its cursed power!
He wondered if he should even be feeling this, but from the party's perspective, it was crystal clear.
'Stop? Why the hell should I?'
Even in the position of holding the tool, dominated by its power and rendered helpless.
Yet still believing themselves superior.
From the tool's viewpoint, it was utterly pathetic and ridiculous.
Issuing commands when even a polite request would be insufficient?
Playing the master?
Fine. Let's take it all the way.
Normally, Rishir strictly enforced tight limits on his demon swordsmanship to avoid self-destruction.
A sort of safety device that capped its output.
Now.
Rishir shattered that safety device.
'Family head, I finally get it. This is irresponsible pleasure...!'
A chance to test demon swordsmanship's limits without any accountability was right before him!
"Everyone, fall back!"
Carorea shouted, sensing the bizarre and immense magical flow.
Broken Glass Shuon's party weren't ordinary either—they had already retreated before she spoke.
"What in the world..."
Everyone stared aghast at the spectacle unfolding before them.
Whiiiiiing!!!
The sandstorm grew fierce enough to blot out the sun.
The black flames rising with it became pillars reaching the sky.
Sorcery shaped like swarming insects circled the pillars.
The chaotic, turbulent vortex of power flaunted its might for a time before beginning to condense toward a single point.
-Caak...! Caak...!!! Caak!!!
The inky-armored demon swordsman raised his sword.
The vortex of power was converging straight onto that blade.
The hand gripping the sword.
As it trembled faintly, the vortex shuddered in response.
At this moment.
What the demon swordsman held was a sword that was also magic.
"Demon sword... demon swordsmanship..."
Someone murmured.
Whether the awe was directed at demon swordsmanship—
Or at 'demon swordsmanship'.
No one there could say.
"Everyone, stay calm...!"
As all were overwhelmed by the sight, Shuon shouted.
"The nature of that power is utterly inscrutable... but judging by its scale alone—"
Shuon's sleepy eyes cracked open slightly.
Her insight, hailed as prophetic by some, shone even now.
She pierced through the flashy display to gauge the mana comprising that power.
Right here were Shuon's companions: a grand mage, a swordmaster, and a hero.
Plus Guardian Carorea.
Combined, they could surely restrain the demon swordsman—that was Shuon's conclusion.
Judging by scale alone.
"..."
However.
Shuon's words faltered.
Magic. Swordsmanship. Sorcery. Black magic.
Anyone versed in power couldn't help but be mesmerized by that chaotic vortex.
Demon swordsmen escaped the rules that bound them all.
Thoroughly unbound by rules.
An inscrutable existence.
Swordmaster, grand mage, hero—
No matter their depth of experience, none had the confidence to predict or counter the demon swordsman's next move.
"That's the Sword's Night..."
Someone muttered blankly.
And so—
They unhesitatingly chalked up the inscrutable phenomenon before them to the 'Night's' doing.
"Guardian!!! Is this really okay!?"
The red-haired grand mage yelled at Carorea.
The only reason they maintained minimal composure was the demon swordsman's state.
It was rampaging wildly without targeting anyone or anything specific.
It seemed like mindless power-wasting at a glance—
"But there's no way it's that benign..."
"Surely there's some ulterior motive behind the rampage."
"Maybe—that man is resisting the demon sword's power."
One opinion rippled through them with considerable unease.
Not just convincing, it hinted at something astonishing.
"Resisting that absurd power...? What kind of mental fortitude is that?"
They had no choice but to see the vortex as the demon sword's authority.
To them, the man resisting evoked a terrifying reverence.
They began envisioning the figure trapped in that inky armor.
Some pictured an elder grand mage—
Others a great warrior of reversal—
Still others a high priest of indomitable will.
-Ah, aaaaaa— aaaaa...!!! Aaaaaaa!!!!!
Their tense gazes converged on one spot.
Finally.
The vortex of power ebbed.
The demon swordsman dropped to one knee on the ground and began screaming.
-No more, no more...!!!
A precarious voice spilled out.
They didn't know.
That it was the demon sword's death cry upon hitting its limit.
The demon sword, wracked by excruciating pain and fatigue from recklessly wielding its inscrutable power.
It had finally crumbled, losing itself and its consciousness.
Thud.
The inky sword fell to the ground.
The inky armor followed limply in its wake.
There was no longer a demon swordsman there.
"Elf...? No, a human...!?"
"My god, it was some young punk?"
A young man appeared before them, defying all expectations.
"Rishir! You alright!"
As everyone stood stunned, Carorea rushed to him urgently.
"I'm fine."
Cough!
He covered his mouth and hacked.
Blood smeared his hand in clumps.
"...!"
Rishir stared at his bloodied hand in shock.
"My god, you don't look fine at all!?"
Shuon's party belatedly snapped to and hurried over.
"Im-impossible..."
A man muttered in bewilderment.
"Wh-what happened! Tell me every detail of what you're feeling right now!"
Shuon focused every nerve, bracing for the worst from his mouth.
"How can my body be this... intact...?"
"?"
They blinked and double-checked the man's condition.
Drip drip drip.
Blood streamed refreshingly from every orifice on his face.
"After all that chaos, it ends with just this much overload...?"
"..."
Just this much overload? What overload?
Shuon's party, who had rolled up sleeves to help, froze in place.
The man pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and deftly wiped the blood from his face, finally settling the atmosphere.
"A-are you really okay...?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for your concern."
Shuon's party still fretted over his condition, but there was something more pressing right now.
Thump!
Thump!
They gazed sickly at the inky sword.
The demon sword.
It pulsed like a living thing, steadily recovering its power.
The ominous, horrific aura filling it was palpable on their skin.
Anxiety gripped them—if they didn't deal with that demon sword now, the previous nightmare would repeat.
"That demon sword, how do we..."
The demon sword's rampage was fresh in their minds, so no one dared approach rashly.
And so, as they stood peeking at it—
"Ah, um—...!"
The man, gauging their reactions, cautiously raised his hand.
Everyone perked up.
This man had resisted the demon sword through sheer willpower.
Maybe an ingenious solution would come from his lips—they all focused on him.
"This! I found it, so I have priority ownership rights. Right?"
That was why Rishir had been eyeing them.
He had seen them staring repeatedly at the demon sword and assumed they coveted it.
Hard not to—
After all, he had just experienced its remarkable effects(?).
"...Ownership?"
While everyone fretted over disposal, he was worried about ownership.
Their faces went slack from the jarring disconnect in thinking.