Chapter 279
Chapter 279
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Cursed Magic Sword (2)
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"Go take the main body? Where is it...?"
Rishir said, staring at the magic sword.
"Can you guide me there?"
-Of course...
"Absolutely not!"
Delon and the others around him, who had been watching the exchange, cried out in unison.
They knew all too well how vicious the abomination called a magic sword was, as members of Popendal's Scabbard.
Those things treated lives as mere tools to be swung around carelessly.
Moreover, they had been locked in a prolonged war with magic swords in recent years.
The power of magic swords that trampled human dignity and emotions without a second thought, wielded by a duke who employed it.
They recalled those memories and thought.
Was there anything more dangerous than lending an ear to a magic sword's words?
"Lord Rishir! You mustn't listen to the magic sword! It's clearly up to some trick!"
Rishir paused at Delon's words.
R-Really?
That does feel natural.
Even the magic sword: Curse, who had taken the form of a woman, was thrown into confusion at the peak of tension.
The atmosphere in the room, which had reached its climax, ground back into deadlock due to the beast's sudden intervention.
Rishir and Curse.
They each took a step back from one another.
With both possessing power that warranted utmost caution, the magic sword's involvement was obviously a decisive variable.
And then.
Tsk, a clicking sound rang out like a signal flare, resetting the room's tension.
As Curse straightened her posture, she stepped forward.
But not toward Rishir.
Toward Bolton.
Rishir's mind accelerated. His senses sharpened to the extreme within it.
Curse's movements felt slowed, and in the time granted, he sank into thought.
Why would Curse target Bolton in this situation?
-It's predetermined. Because Bolton is the group's leader, the central pillar. Curse plans to muddy the waters by eliminating him.
Hand over the clone and take out the leader. An exchange they could never lose.
That was what his accumulated experience from battles thus far told him.
And—
-When you blatantly go for the head, the arms and legs react in surprise. When surrounded by fools willing to die for their leader, is there a better way to shake them than targeting the leader?
That was what the killer ghost had taught him.
Rishir felt as if Clana's voice overlapped with those thoughts and let out a small chuckle.
His body was already in motion.
"Pro-Protect Lord Bolton!!!"
Panic erupted.
The result of Curse's actions.
True to their training as Scabbard members, those who had encircled Curse hurled themselves forward without hesitation at the sight of her lunging toward Bolton.
Resolved to face death to protect their leader.
Backed by the rational judgment that mutual destruction was feasible against a magic sword clone.
Only those far off with the door at their backs targeted Curse's rear as a fallback.
In other words, their formation had crumbled.
"No— Ack!"
"Gahhh!"
Groans erupted one after another.
From the four who had gone for Curse's back.
Curse had suddenly spun around and subdued them.
Sword strikes. Wrists gripping swords flew into the sky.
Blows. Exposed bodies soared sideways.
It happened in an instant.
To the others, it looked like Curse merely shifted a few times in place, and their formation collapsed with four sprawled on the ground.
Curse's thoughts and actions outpaced their perception completely.
Leaving her ample time.
Curse's body coiled like a spring.
All that remained was for her to spring out the window and vanish.
The next sight should rightly have been shattering glass.
Clang!
But instead.
A metallic clash of steel on steel, not breaking glass.
Sparks flying fresh, not sharp shards.
Now before their eyes were two swordsmen amid the exchanged strikes in that split second.
"...!"
Curse instinctively parried but failed to fully hide her shock.
"How—"
Swift response. Beyond that.
Her opponent had foreseen everything and lain in wait for Curse.
Like a hand snatching a gold coin flying on an obvious trajectory.
"Guess our wavelengths match pretty well."
The man grinned playfully.
Curse couldn't believe it was a smile forged by the hero.
She expertly reset her stance.
The clashing sword neither retreated nor faltered, pressing in.
'Let's see you predict this.'
The sword strike that had butchered Cort once more unfolded.
That demonic magic sword technique was far from something one could discern at a glance.
Curse was convinced that even if her opponent foresaw everything else, he couldn't predict this sword path.
Her conviction hit the mark.
Rishir had clearly seen with his own eyes Curse butchering Cort, yet his grasp of her sword was vague.
He frankly admitted it.
Limited to the sword, that magic sword was on a far superior realm than him.
That was why.
Rishir had never intended to face her purely as swordsmen from the start.
"!!!!!"
Curse yanked her head back with all her might in that instant.
Truly superhuman senses.
However, her mere clone body couldn't keep up, yielding an opening.
"Ugh—"
Black flames suddenly erupted, burning one of Curse's eyes.
Even that seemed insufficient as the dying embers approached her remaining eye, finally fizzling out and filling her with dread.
She couldn't comprehend it.
There were no mages present.
The dragon, scarce in real combat, had barely managed to guard Bolton amid the chaos with an "Uh? Huh?"
No one could unleash such swift, precise magic targeting vitals from that distance.
Only one possibility remained.
Curse fixed her surviving eye on the man before her.
"What did you—"
In that moment, her inhuman traits stood out.
Even now, the woman showed interest in the man's power.
Her sharp eyes gleamed with obsession and composure to analyze it.
"Magic swordsmanship."
Rishir answered readily, as if daring her to try.
"Magic sword—...!?"
That thing was magic swordsmanship?
Unheard of.
By the time Curse's focus snapped back from the magic to her sword, it was already at the end of its path.
Thwack!
The exquisitely positioned blade acted as a blunt weapon, precisely striking the woman's jaw.
Her head jerked with a creak.
The woman's consciousness snapped.
-Grrrrraaaahhh!!!
With the holy sword's groan writhing in the betrayal of assassination, the situation concluded.
Click.
Rishir sheathed the holy sword after finishing all actions.
"Th-That was the power of a magic sword...!!!"
The black flames that pierced perceptual gaps alongside the sword strike.
The onlookers who witnessed magic swordsmanship firsthand fell into shock, gasping in admiration.
-What nonsense!!!
Beast nearly convulsed inside the scabbard.
-The magic sword did nothing! It was all a collaboration between Rishir and me!!! That magic swordsmanship just now was purely Rishir's power!
Purely Rishir's power?
Then why call it magic swordsmanship?
They couldn't understand.
-Rishir just combined swordsmanship with magic, that's all!
Why simultaneously?
They couldn't understand.
"Rishir, you okay!? You're not hurt anywhere!?"
Allenza rushed to him once she snapped out of it.
"S-Sorry—I couldn't help at all...!"
"Couldn't help? Don't say that."
Rishir naturally sensed the dragon's aura protecting him and patted the girl's head.
"Wouldn't it be weirder if a young lady calmly snapped an enemy's neck in a situation like this?"
"..."
Not just Allenza, but everyone around was baffled by Rishir's actions.
Treating a dragon like an ordinary little girl so naturally.
It was so seamless that for a moment, they wondered if they were the strange ones.
"Lord Rishir!!! My god!!! You captured it alive!!!"
Then Delon approached, making a fuss.
Who has a heart of stone?
Delon ignored his comrades' gazes.
"As expected of Lord Rishir!!! That's all I can say!!! Not content with reading its moves, you even captured the magic sword's clone!?"
They soon nodded, agreeing with Delon's attitude.
"Toying with that magic sword in the palm of your hand. Lord Rishir, you're heaven-sent—... Uh..."
"Haha, I hear that a lot. Heavenly assassin, they say. Overpraise."
"..."
Is that praise?
Leaving the pondering group behind.
Rishir approached the fallen Curse.
"Now we just interrogate it to find the magic sword's location."
"Ah, about that—"
"Yes?"
Rishir turned over Curse's prone body.
The unique aura and atmosphere she exuded had vanished without a trace.
"It's the ability of Magic Sword: Curse. That curse makes the target believe they themselves are the magic sword's main body. Prioritizing the magic sword above all."
"What..."
Rishir was dumbfounded.
He'd thought a clone was a massive detached fragment from the main body.
"Then, how many more like this are there?"
"...Yes."
"And each one has this level of power?"
"Curse draws out the target's power to its limits. It prevents self-harm, you could say?"
"..."
Rishir examined the woman and immediately understood.
Her aura was pushed to the brink of overload, abused without mercy.
A true magic sword wielding a human.
"Separately, this woman is among the more special clones we've encountered. Probably not many clones have this much power. Likely..."
-This is... one of Curse's kin...
Beast added.
As everyone pondered how to react to the magic sword's voice.
Only Rishir responded immediately.
"Kin?"
-Yes... those earrings... that hair... Curse's taste... It marks its favored kin like that...
"Then, how many more clones like her?"
-If it were at full strength, dozens... But... when our auras connected, I felt it clearly... Its power isn't whole... It hasn't been long since breaking the seal... Just like me...
"If we recover the magic sword's main body, all these curses lift?"
-...If it's you, perhaps...
"Then we can't dawdle. Beast. Will you guide me to the magic sword's location?"
-Of course...
"Rishir!?"
"Hm?"
At that moment.
Allenza shouted.
The rest shared her expression.
"I-Is it really okay? To trust the magic sword...?"
It was a fair question from those unaware of their full relationship.
Rishir, aware, chose his words carefully.
"Yes. We're on good terms now. Right, Beast?"
Rishir raised the jet-black sword to urge a reply.
-O-Of course...
They thought the magic sword's tone a bit odd.
But now they saw it wasn't.
That trembling voice. The emotion within was fear.
Above all, the magic sword expressed joy at Rishir's words.
Good terms.
They felt great relief at that.
-Wh-Why...!!!
Tormun's back alleys.
Filled with the despairing sobs of a woman.
Because the location Beast guided them to was growing farther by the second.
Curse continued her choice from the mansion.
While the main body fled, she mobilized hosts planted throughout Tormun to hinder Rishir's pursuit.
For example.
Rishir, not fully recovered, was forced into overexertion.
Overload and wielding the magic sword were inevitable.
-Ah... it hurts... hurts...!!! You... you said we were on good terms...
"Oh, we are. Aren't we working in perfect sync right now? Basically a married couple."
-You... treat your wife like this...?
"Whoa! Golden blonde with earrings, kin! Big one's coming, Beast! Brace yourself!"
-Ah, ahh...
Beast's pleas fell on deaf ears.
Even amid fierce combat, the woman's sobs persisted.
Clack. Clack.
Unhealed wounds reopened from violent motion—
Blood dripped from ears laden with countless earrings.
A woman with brown hair dyed vibrant gold raced down the street, gripping a single sword.
Magic Sword: Curse.
She realized upon pinpointing her position and the tightening pursuit net.
Popendal's Scabbard, led by the dragon.
The surge's master.
They were tracking her under Beast's guidance.
"Beast, you mad bastard...! What's your game!?"
She still couldn't fully grasp the situation.
Assuming Beast's betrayal made it crystal clear, but she couldn't accept it rationally.
Magic swords were fragments born from one existence.
A bond tighter than siblings.
Yet betraying fellow magic swords for the enemy?
The hero's side, no less!
'No way... you're really betraying me...!?'
No.
Impossible.
Curse denied it to the very end.
There was evidence.
Beast.
She was cooperating with humans now, but hadn't fully surrendered her existence.
She'd felt it clearly while using hosts against them.
Humans treated Beast's body as their own, but that was it.
The magic sword tightly controlled its power, refusing to lose it despite the body.
Like clutching it desperately to prevent the human from seizing its power?
Thus inferring Beast was cooperating with humans under duress, not willfully.
'In that case, join Dominion first—then recover Beast with combined power.'
In that instant.
Curse's expression twisted.
Confirming another kin freed.
Rishir.
The kin sent to check his pursuit.
Now only her most cherished remained.
The one carrying the magic sword's main body.
Curse didn't panic.
'He's hit his limit.'
Confirmed as the kin vanished. The hero at his limit.
No matter the inscrutable ability, without power to wield it, meaningless.
The sole variable now: Beast's power.
"Ha!"
A gleeful smile burst from Curse's lips.
Beast, seeing the hero weakened, would rebel rather than cooperate meekly.
'Beast! I've done my part! Your turn!'
She sensed the pursuit net closing via her dwindling hosts.
Scabbard group led by dragon, nearly upon her.
Opposite side: Beast and the holy sword's master.
Which to break through?
Curse veered right without hesitation.
Toward the weakened hero and her brother!
Exiting the alley onto the main street.
"Ugh! Hey, if you shove, at least apologize— Ah, aaaahhh!!!"
How long had she slashed, shoved, and cut through every obstacle in her path?
"Hiiiik!!!"
"Wh-What's that!?"
"I-Is it some monster!?"
Not reactions toward Curse.
Thud!
Ahead in Curse's path.
A massive something leaped from a rooftop, landing on the ground.
A jet-black knight.
'Blocking me in that state? Trying to buy time?'
Curse sneered mockingly.
As she gauged the opponent's state to break the encirclement.
"...!"
Her unhesitating motion halted.
"Wh-What— What's going on!!!"
Conversely, the jet-black knight—who should have faltered—advanced without pause.
The hero's aura, which should have been depleted, was restored.
Beast.
Thanks to her sharing her power.
The magic sword had finally ceased resistance and entrusted itself to its new master.
Right after the battle with the kin.
As Curse predicted, Rishir felt his limit.
-Ah... hurts... so much... please... stop...
Even a magic sword treating humans as tools felt guilt at the woman's ceaseless sobs.
"Damn... sorry, Beast. I don't want to do this either."
Thus, as Rishir unconsciously voiced guilt, Beast was greatly surprised.
His words resonated oddly amid her accepting the pain as karma.
-Then... just stop...
"Can't. We can't let that magic sword escape."
-If you do... what happens...?
"We'll recover somehow, no matter the cost."
No matter the cost to recover.
To Beast, those words echoed differently.
-Ah... no... can't let that happen...
The fading jet-black armor regained its luster.
The magic sword murmured chillingly.
-Can't forgive...
"...What?"
Curse panicked.
That voice from the jet-black armor was unmistakably Beast's.
"Wh-What are you saying? Me? Me!?"
-Making me suffer like this...
"...Yes, right!!! That guy! That hero's making you suffer!!!"
-No... you...
"...What?"
-You're... the one making me suffer...
And that resentment was clearly aimed at her.
Curse's face filled with bewilderment.
The jet-black knight sprang from its crouched form.
The distance closed in an instant—
The last kin tumbled to the ground.
-What the fuck did you do to Beast...!!!
The new magic sword in the knight's hand shouted.
Its voice brimmed not with anger, but bewilderment.
She saw it clearly in her eyes.
-Ahh... finally...
Relief and joy.
The black-haired woman murmuring, overcome with emotions.
-As expected of you, master!!! Manipulating that magic sword's soul like a worthless pebble!!! No villain—no, saint in this world could handle it so deftly!!! Another lesson learned!!!
"...What?"
The sudden spirit(?)'s praise.
In victory's moment, Rishir felt confusion.
What did I even do?