Chapter 247
Chapter 247
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: The Masters of the Two Swords
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The situation itself was clear enough.
The crimson archmage had gone berserk in a fit of madness, and Rishir had subdued him.
Shuon's party had witnessed the entire thing unfold right before their eyes.
"Wh-what the hell just happened...?"
Even so, Shuon's group looked utterly bewildered, as if they'd been thrown into the chaos out of nowhere.
"Rishir, you were definitely..."
Shuon turned to Rishir first, trying desperately to make sense of it all.
He was the one who'd jumped at Sodin's proposal—framed as a bargain but really a threat backed by the hero's life on the line.
His face had urged everyone to hand over the demon sword without resistance, looking weak and cowed.
Everyone who'd seen it thought the same: Rishir wasn't worried about the hero's safety—he was just scared for his own skin.
Even Sodhin, who was treating him as an enemy, had bought into it.
Rishir struck them all as the perfect picture of a "greenhorn" kid.
It was only natural he couldn't handle the bloodthirsty aura of the crimson grand mage fused with the demon sword.
"No way... Rishir, you..."
Of course.
There was always the chance Rishir had just been acting to fool Sodin.
And Shuon's party was well aware of that possibility.
They were veterans of countless real battles.
To them, feigning weakness to lower an enemy's guard was basic, textbook deception.
"Was all of that... just an act...?"
Yet Shuon reacted as if he couldn't have imagined it.
Sodin himself had shown the same shock when Rishir ambushed him out of nowhere.
It was all down to Rishir's vibe.
That mild-mannered smile and impeccable politeness.
How could anyone link him to dirty tricks?
And that assassination blade—what about it!
To them, Rishir was the type who suited honor and conviction.
They could picture him getting taken out by tricks and stealth strikes, but never wielding them himself.
'No way... this guy... has he been acting this whole time...?'
They worried he might suddenly drop the mask and reveal his true colors.
"Hoo."
Then came Rishir's sigh.
"You know, it actually worked. I was shaking so bad, having to play it by ear like that."
He rubbed his chest with a sheepish grin.
That same mild-mannered smile.
That same polite demeanor.
Against their fears, Rishir hadn't changed a bit.
But that only confused Shuon's party even more.
This earnest young man had pulled off that sleazy deception and assassination strike like it was nothing?
"Ah."
In that moment.
It hit Shuon's group.
'Right... so that's how it is...!'
They figured Rishir had resorted to underhanded tactics only because he had no choice if he wanted to save everyone.
He was surely as upright and honorable as he seemed.
'But he went and did something so dirty anyway...'
He must be feeling deep self-loathing right now.
"Rishir. I'm proud of you."
Shuon spoke in a solemn tone to encourage him.
The high priestess nodded vigorously in agreement from the side.
"I'm not one to say stuff like this, but that was insane."
The broadsword wielder clapped Rishir on the arm and chimed in.
"That last bit?"
"Yeah. Luring the enemy into dropping their guard... creating an opening... then slipping in with that swift, efficient strike!"
The broadsword wielder glanced at his comrades, choosing his words carefully.
He'd toned it way down from 'What the hell, that was pure assassin shit!? Even a shadow blade couldn't pull that off!'
For Rishir's sake!
How was it?
Perfect!
A round of meaningful glances passed between them.
Emboldened, the broadsword wielder ramped up.
"Man, unreal. Even I couldn't mimic that. Your master must've taught you all kinds of practical stuff!"
Then he felt his comrades' glares.
'Oh crap!'
He realized too late.
He'd meant to show respect for Rishir's swordsmanship and his teacher, but it came out all wrong!
-So you learned assassination arts from your master? What a badass killer she must be! Tossing honor aside for pure efficiency—talk about resolve!
That's how it could be taken.
If he'd seen Rishir's assassin blade elsewhere, that's exactly how he'd have put it.
"No, Rishir—I didn't mean it like that...!"
The broadsword wielder fidgeted, eyeing Rishir nervously.
"Ah, you see right through it! As expected of a swordmaster!"
"?"
Rishir lit up.
The picture of a swordsman thrilled to have his blade's true worth recognized by a master.
The broadsword wielder marveled once more at his earnest nature.
Taking that loaded comment in only the best possible light!?
"Just like you said, my swordmaster was a true master of assassination arts!"
"!?"
No.
Just as the broadsword wielder feared, it landed as 'Your teacher's a total assassin'—practically fighting words to any upright knight prizing honor and pride.
And yet.
Rishir looked thrilled.
"My swordmaster always stressed efficiency and results above all. For you to sense that in me... her teachings weren't wasted."
"..."
The broadsword wielder grappled with massive cognitive dissonance.
Assassination blade.
From what he'd seen and felt, everyone who wielded that vile style matched it with their sleazy personality.
But look at the guy in front of him.
Perfect upright knight material, bragging about his mastery of assassination arts—
"So that act you pulled fooling Sodin... that's normal for you too?"
"Well, in large-scale fights, isn't ending it as quickly as possible the best way?"
"Why think like that?"
This was sword talk now.
The broadsword wielder dropped his usual flippancy and got serious.
"So we can protect what's precious without losing anything. Myself, of course, but everyone around me too."
"...!"
The broadsword wielder's jaw and eyes slowly widened.
He was too stunned to speak.
His methods screamed apostle knight.
But his sword philosophy and convictions were purer than any upright knight's.
'What kind of freak hybrid is this...?'
For the first time, the broadsword wielder felt fear toward the young swordsman before him—this greenhorn.
Those innocently pure eyes casually unleashing assassination arts!
'Old man... didn't go down for nothing...'
He felt a twinge of pity for the grand mage who'd once been his comrade.
Who'd suspect this earnest young man was an assassination master?
Not just any— one who wielded it with innocently clear eyes. A maniac.
The broadsword wielder's gaze drifted naturally to his hand.
Demon sword.
Holy sword.
Two blades that should never mix, held casually together in one hand.
The broadsword wielder nodded.
A swordsman who handled assassination arts with clear eyes could surely handle those two blades too—
"...No, even so, that's a stretch."
No.
It still didn't add up.
He'd cracked 'Rishir's true nature,' but that was just the beginning.
"What the hell are you, Rishir? What did you do...?"
"Pardon?"
"The holy sword that only permits its true master—the hero—why's it in your hand? And in the hand of the demon sword's master at that!? Wait, were you the demon sword's master all along!? You didn't break free from it—"
The broadsword wielder trailed off, rubbing his temples.
The questions kept piling up, bringing on a throbbing headache.
"Urgh—"
"Ah, Shelloa! You're awake!?"
Just then, the sealed hero Shelloa stirred.
The high priestess had rushed to heal her the moment things settled.
"..."
She propped herself up and stared blankly for a while before looking around.
Her glasses.
She put on the ones on the floor, then sank back into thought.
"Ah...!"
Light returned to her eyes, and she jolted in shock.
"Sodin—"
"Easy, Shelloa. It's all over."
"...!"
Shelloa spotted Sodin collapsed on the ground.
She asked, bewildered.
"How..."
Shelloa recalled what happened before she blacked out.
Sodin had held her hostage and secured the demon sword.
'How did they turn that into this? I wasn't just useless—I was a liability...'
Shuon caught her doubt and explained.
"Rishir used the sealed holy sword to weaken Sodin's power."
"Ah."
Right.
Shelloa nodded in understanding.
The seal's power would more than cover her absence—
"Hm?"
Wait.
"He used the sealed holy sword?"
The sealed hero sensed something off.
She'd been unconscious—how could the seal have played a decisive role?
"..."
Shuon pointed at Rishir with a complicated look.
"...?"
And so.
The sealed hero spotted the holy sword in someone else's hand.
"...!?"
And so.
The sealed hero spotted the demon sword in someone else's hand too.
"Rohra permitted herself to someone other than me...? And to a man dominated by the demon sword...?"
"No, Shelloa. Rishir isn't dominated by the demon sword. If anything—"
Shuon forced the words out.
"We could say the demon sword is dominated by him..."
"He dominates the demon sword...? How...?"
"The demon sword... seems terrified of his demon swordsmanship..."
Ah.
I see.
The demon sword fears demon swordsmanship.
"Hah."
Shelloa let out a hollow laugh.
"I'm... dead, aren't I...?"
The sealed hero's conclusion.
She must be seeing a sweet delusion cooked up by her dying brain.
"A hero who masters both holy and demon swords shows up and fixes everything... Guess even I could dream up something this stupid..."
The sealed hero smiled sadly.
Her comrades couldn't say a word.
No words came to correct her misunderstanding.
"Hero. Time to return this."
-Ah... already...?
"...Rohra?"
After that.
Things wrapped up quickly.
They recovered Sodin's body first.
Cause of death: not Rishir's strike, but overload from his power running rampant.
"..."
The high priestess held a simple funeral rite.
Rishir watched the grand mage's end with a troubled expression.
"Hey."
The broadsword wielder clapped his shoulder with a light smile.
"Don't feel guilty. The old man's death was all on him—self-inflicted, literally. Your strike didn't kill him; the overload did."
"Ah, I already heard that from the priestess."
"Yeah? You don't look so sure."
"Well, it just hit me—"
"What?"
"Lately, everyone who dies because of me seems to go down from overload—"
"..."
The broadsword wielder—and Shuon's party plus Karoer eavesdropping nearby—plunged into deep confusion.
'Assassinations by overload...? How...?'
Twisting Rishir's words a bit, they fought the urge to dig into that dangerous curiosity.
Then came Shuon's party's investigation.
Unavoidable, since they'd been Sodin's accomplices in trying to kill the hero and steal the demon sword.
"Don't worry about it anymore, Rishir."
"Ah, Duke Karoer—"
"Anyone who saw it knows they're completely uninvolved with Sodin. And luckily, you, Ratshil, and I were all witnesses. This is just a formality. Nothing you're worried about will happen."
Karoer was right.
-How dare filthy humans in Ilratten—
-Hold on! Filthy humans? You—
-Oops, mind wandering.
-We'll leave judgment on this to Rishir and Karoer.
Summoned to the turquoise council and grilled by the elders, Shuon's party was free by next day.
Rishir and Ratshil, given lodging at Karoer's estate to rest, reunited with Shuon's group the afternoon after.
"Oh? Duke Lunadien?"
The one filling the crimson grand mage's vacancy.
The elf with flowing red hair at the group's head approached Rishir.
"Rishir. Heard you solved another incident while I was out?"
"Eh—solve it? Or cause it?"
"Haha, no need to be modest. Per Sir Karoer, things would've gone south bad without you. A demon sword and its would-be thief, the former crimson tower lord... Even I, Lunadien, couldn't have handled that easily on my own."
Exactly.
No kidding.
Lunadien praised him in her usual florid style.
Rishir smiled at that and said,
"By the way, Duke Lunadien. You said you'd been away a few days—where to?"
"Oh, that? Tracked that bitch's trail somewhere in the city for a bit."
"That bitch?"
"Night of the Woods."
Oof.
Yep.
Rishir felt a thrilling(?) zap in his heart but kept his face straight.
"Th-the Night of the Woods was subjugated ages ago, wasn't she? A trace of her in modern Ilratten? Wonders never cease. Ha. Ha. Ha."
"Tell me about it. Wonders never cease."
Rishir shivered.
Lunadien stared silently into space.
The aura she unconsciously exuded was terrifyingly heavy.
'Reliving her fight with Grandmaster...?'
Rishir felt anew the weight of Lunadien's name.
Slayer of the Night of the Woods.
Green mages' pinnacle for centuries.
Her aura was incomparably purer and sharper than the fallen crimson grand mage's.
'Speaking of—'
Lunadien reminded him of something.
Rishir recalled a 'memory' the demon sword had shown him before.
Star of the Flower Garden.
The one tied to Lunadien.
"Duke Lunadien—"
"The demon sword."
"Yes?"
"That's what you want to ask about, right?"
"Ah... yes."
"Fine. I'll tell you. No choice in this situation. And I've got more to say anyway. Rishir—do you know about that crimson mage's belongings?"
"The crimson mage's belongings? Ah—"
Rishir recalled the mysterious cube Sodin had held.
"Legacy of the first hero..."
Lunadien nodded gravely and told him,
"Got time? Can you fetch the demon sword from your room—er, where it's sealed? I mean stored?"
"Ah! Right away!"
Rishir headed straight to his room.
He eyed where he'd left the demon sword propped—
"Dearie."
A sultry voice tickled his ear.
Rishir whipped around in surprise.
"La-Bella...!?"
There, silver eyes half-lidded like a crescent moon fixed on him.
"Got worried when you were so late, so I came looking."
She gave her signature kindly smile.
"How's it going, dearie? Getting that nature magic seed—?"
"Nature magic seed? Ah."
Right.
That's why I came to this city.
As Rishir's face grew complicated, Labela nodded.
"Not going well, huh. As I thought. No way they'd hand nature's seed to a human like you so easily—"
Labela pondered gravely.
"..."
Rishir struggled over where—and how—to even start explaining.