Chapter 540: Bloody Requiem (15)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 540: Bloody Requiem (15)
From a cold, hard perspective, it might have been a fair trade.
If I gave myself up, he would save everyone gathered here.
My life versus theirs.
If I considered which was more beneficial to the world… the answer seemed pretty clear, didn't it?
“You must know. How merciful this offer is.”
Yeah, I know.
I get it.
He had the power.
Enough power to make me his servant without even asking for my consent.
For him to make such an offer despite that was, quite literally, a sign of goodwill and mercy toward me.
It was a high-minded way of saying, Look. See how much I’m considering you.
At this point, I had no choice but to admit it.
“It’s certainly an attractive offer.”
Especially for me.
“He’s saying… everyone can live.”
I was someone who had watched cherished comrades—comrades I trusted with my life—die, not just once, but several times.
That’s why it was so tempting.
Every time I watched helplessly as my comrades died, I had a thought.
I’d rather die first than see them fall before me.
And the ones groaning in pain behind me were more than just comrades.
If I could save them, what would my one life matter?
I’m sure I would have thought that.
If I were my past self, that is.
“…But it’s also an offer that’s hard to accept.”
The me of today is a little different.
It was almost forced on me, but unlike Son Si-woo, who was detached from greed, Kim Do-jin is the very embodiment of desire.
How else would I have caught the eye of Greed and become its Apostle?
That’s why I didn’t want to die so easily.
There’s still so much I haven’t done.
And what if the women I saved with my death ended up falling for some other guy?
Just the thought made my blood boil.
So now, I found myself toying with another option.
Francis Meyer and the Raid Team.
If I drove them and the Volunteer Group to their deaths… couldn’t my comrades and I survive?
“……”
I know.
I know how scummy this thought is.
But so what?
It’s better for some to live than for everyone to die.
And if someone’s going to live, it should be my kids, who have bright futures ahead of them.
I don’t know about the others, but my kids will definitely reach S-rank.
But even this wasn’t easy.
That’s why I was stalling for time.
How to throw them away, where to set up an escape route… I needed to plan every detail to raise the success rate by even one percent.
It was then.
Francis, who had been watching the situation in silence, placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Hey, friend. You don’t need to think so hard about such a ridiculous offer.”
No need to think, he says.
“My comrades are all dying.”
And still, he says there’s no need to think.
Is he suggesting we all die together?
“Right. That’s why we have to save them. By getting rid of that mosquito captain.”
“But.”
“I know, I know. The enemy is stronger than we thought. At this rate, we couldn’t beat him even if we died and came back to life.”
Francis smiled bitterly, acknowledging the enemy’s strength.
He knew that full well, yet he said there was no need to think.
What on earth was going through his mind?
Just as I was wondering, he leaned in close and whispered.
“I have a way.”
My eyes widened, and my ears perked up.
“…A way?”
“Yes. It’s impossible for me alone, but with your help, friend, there’s one single way it could work.”
I was skeptical.
An enemy he couldn’t handle alone… could we really face him with just one more person—me?
He continued to whisper.
“And that is…”
His innocent voice came through, clear and distinct.
The moment I heard it, I couldn’t hide my shock.
Partly because I realized we might be able to survive without choosing the worst-case scenario.
“What do you think? This should work, don’t you think? Huh?”
And partly because I was despairing that this method, which avoided the absolute worst, was not the best option, but the second-worst, nipping at the heels of the first.
* * *
Francis Meyer.
Humanity’s greatest hero.
Everyone called him the greatest and gave him a thumbs-up, but he never once thought of himself that way.
He had lost his parents at a young age and wandered the back alleys of Europe.
A child who was nothing more than a beggar with nothing to his name.
Despite that, he had a dream.
‘Someday, I will become a Hunter and bring peace to this chaotic world.’
It was too grand a dream for a grimy little kid to harbor.
He’d lost his parents to villains who ran rampant in the chaos, and having grown up seeing countless other children become orphans like himself, it was a dream he had naturally come to embrace.
But the wall of reality was high. So very high.
He somehow managed to awaken, but that was merely stepping up to the starting line.
To become a Hunter, he had to learn something.
A sword, a bow, a spear.
Martial power as a means to reclaim peace.
But it was an era where just surviving on your own was a struggle. No one would bestow their skills upon a penniless beggar.
He despaired for a while before changing his way of thinking.
‘If no one will teach me, I’ll learn on my own.’
He realized it late, but he had been putting this into practice for a long time.
For example, when he first entered the back alleys after losing his parents, he would blindly follow a kid who looked like he’d been living there a long time, absorbing his knowledge of survival.
Or he would watch and learn from the movements of the thugs who swaggered around, thinking they were tough.
From then on, he traveled from place to place, watching intently.
He watched Hunters fighting monsters, fighting villains.
Because he could only learn by watching, he constantly hit walls, but he always found a way to understand.
He would gain enlightenment by connecting what he saw from A with what he saw from B, and what he saw from C with what he saw from A.
Sometimes, he would even get hints from the conversations of strangers he overheard passing by.
Yes.
To him, this vast world was his teacher.
‘There is something to be learned from everyone.’
Around the time he had taken that mindset deep into his heart.
A god finally descended upon his shoulder.
Humility (humilitas).
The mindset of lowering oneself and respecting others.
The attitude of always realizing one’s own shortcomings and acknowledging the existence of those superior to oneself.
That is why he was able to become strong.
Because he learned and gained enlightenment even from those much younger and weaker than himself.
“Haaaah!”
With a fierce kiai, he swung his sword.
From left to right.
Clang!
A powerful sword strike, strong enough to split the ancient castle in two, was blocked by his opponent.
But he was smiling.
‘Much better than before.’
Because this strike shook the True Ancestor’s barrier far more intensely than the first one.
And so, he felt a tinge of regret.
If only he had a little more time. If only the weight on his back were a little lighter.
But that was only for a moment.
Without delay, he swung his sword again.
Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch!
In the blink of an eye, hundreds of sword strikes embroidered the air, blurring into a brilliant display.
The True Ancestor, who parried the blows, was quite surprised.
‘…His aura has changed.’
His opponent’s aura had grown even more intense. He was sure that what he’d seen just moments ago was his full power, but was he wrong?
But that was all.
If his opponent resisted more fiercely, that was fine by him. If he could suppress such a man, the other one who was reluctant to accept his offer might also change his mind.
“You still had this much power left?”
“I’ve still got plenty more to show you, so stay on your toes! Hyaat!”
He didn’t let up on his assault.
He unleashed hundreds of slashes with his swift swordplay, then delivered an explosive strike with his power swordplay.
That wasn’t all.
Every kind of technique possible with a sword burst forth from Francis.
It was simply astonishing.
How could one person master so many different sword styles to such a profound degree?
It was possible because he had accurately pierced through to the essence of the sword.
Whether it was swift swordplay, power swordplay, or illusionary swordplay.
Their essence ultimately held one commonality.
‘To cut.’
To cut the opponent.
The only difference was in how one cut.
Of course, grasping that essence was only possible because Francis’s talent reached the heavens.
Clang-clang-clang!
Boom!
Sssshk!
With each successive attack, he could feel it.
Cracks were slowly beginning to form in his opponent’s impossibly hard barrier.
The True Ancestor felt it as well.
“Indeed.”
He may have used all sorts of sacrifices as a stepping stone, but this was what he expected from the man who put him to sleep ten years ago.
But it was a mystery.
Even if he had some hidden power, could it really make this much of a difference?
A question that arose amidst the urgency.
A composure he could afford because he was the stronger one.
In other words, it was carelessness.
‘Now!’
He heated it up.
Using his own soul as fuel, he made the proudly burning flame blaze even more fiercely.
The change manifested in his sword.
The shape of the mana that had smoothly enveloped the blade changed into a merciless form, as if the sword itself were fuel for the fire.
‘There is no next time.’
He poured everything he had into this one move.
KABOOM!
With a single leap that shattered the castle floor, Francis charged forward.
In that fleeting moment, his first enlightenment came to mind.
The first thing one must be mindful of when exchanging blows with a sword.
It was none other than to clearly grasp when to retreat and when to advance, and to act accordingly.
He, who had been constantly advancing until now, had finally reached it.
The time to retreat.
This was the final strike for that moment.
「Burning Soul」
A world he had barely reached by burning his soul to ashes.
Things he hadn’t seen, couldn’t see, were now clear to his eyes.
The flow of mana in the world.
The colorful streams of mana leaking from all living things.
And the True Ancestor’s true power, which had been so difficult to see.
‘So this was the difference between us.’
Francis smiled bitterly.
It was because he realized how foolish and reckless his charge had been.
But it was fine.
Because now, he could correct his own bravado.
Accelerating once more as he ran, his figure arrived before the True Ancestor.
“Damn…!”
A look of dismay spread across the True Ancestor’s always-composed face.
His breakthrough power was that astonishing.
“Hey, True Ancestor.”
He pulled back his sword, which incinerated all it touched, and muttered.
“This time, for real. Go.”
To hell.
Fwoooosh!
The single strike, granted to him who had forcibly stepped into a new world, exploded forth.
Shnk—
A quiet sound, contrasting with the spectacular strike.
And at the same time.
Pshaaaa—!
A massive fountain of blood erupted from the True Ancestor’s body.
“K-heuk…!?”
Excruciating pain accompanied the massive blood loss. His face contorted, the True Ancestor grit his teeth and directed his killing intent at the opponent before him.
It was an incredibly fierce and brutal strike.
Enough to make him think of death for an instant.
But it wasn’t enough.
“I don’t know what you burned to obtain that power, but it seems your understanding was lacking…!”
His lips curled into a smirk.
Power, naturally, wasn’t something one could easily wield just by obtaining it.
The higher the state one reached to acquire it, the deeper one’s understanding had to be to wield it properly.
He was right.
But he was also wrong.
He never harbored it in the first place.
Any hope that this one strike could end his life.
Francis, who was rapidly losing his strength, shook his head and answered.
“No, it’s enough.”
Enough to completely focus your attention on me.
Hearing that low voice, the True Ancestor sensed something was wrong and tried to pull back.
Pshuk!
Suddenly, a sword appeared before him and pierced straight through his chest.
“Keo-heok…!”
Death, now much closer than it had been during the crisis ten years ago.
As he faced the terror that every living creature in this world must experience at least once, what filled his eyes was, strangely, not fear or dread, but a question.
‘How… in the world…?’
He couldn’t understand.
Where had this sword that suddenly pierced his chest come from?
Lowering his eyes, from which the light had half-faded, he finally understood.
He saw where the sword had come from.
“…Ha, haha.”
He could see Kim Do-jin, standing behind Francis.
His face was stained with blood, tears, and grief.
With that utterly devastated expression, the sword he held had pierced my chest.
“Cough…!”
Along with Francis, who stood between us.