Chapter 94
Chapter 94
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Translator: Silver Dragon
Chapter: 94
Chapter Title: 1장 - 5 (9)
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The old Abelrian master mistook Zetarn's blank stare out the window and called out to him again.
In response to his master's call,
Zetarn put the previous incident out of his mind and followed the guidance back to the private training hall.
Zetarn, the count, always had a packed schedule that never seemed enough.
So this training time was like a brief respite where he could let his mind go blank.
Late into the night, master and disciple entered the special private room of the Perishing Sword Training Hall.
This place, the Perishing Sword Training Hall, was a combat-oriented facility aimed at those preparing for the martial tournament.
The name "Perishing Sword" was merely the designation for the handed-down martial techniques.
It wasn't limited to swordsmanship alone. In fact, sword arts made up a relatively small portion of the training.
Moreover, "Perishing Sword" was the collective term for the most common martial techniques in the small kingdom of Abelros, so the master's pride in carrying on that legacy generation after generation was immense.
And this was the special private room, a space completely isolated from the outside.
The walls were finished with a special material, and the floor was laid with a substance that absorbed impacts.
In one corner of the room, materials prepared in advance by the master for today's training were neatly arranged.
The master closed the door as he followed him in.
Then, he gazed intently at Zetarn's face for a moment before speaking.
"You hardly age at all—truly enviable. Heh heh. Every time I see you, you look like a young man. This old timer can only be jealous."
His words carried genuine envy and deep respect, and Zetarn responded with a faint smile.
"You haven't changed either, Master."
The master was covered in white hair, his face etched with the wrinkles of time.
In contrast, Zetarn appeared as a man in his thirties.
In truth, their ages were similar.
However, Zetarn was born with blood closest to that of a saint in this kingdom, second only to the royal family.
Fundamentally different from the master, who came from ordinary noble stock.
His body that barely aged was proof and a blessing of that lineage.
In the conversation that followed, the master's speech was excessively polite for addressing a disciple.
One might think the white-haired elder was the disciple and the young man the master, judging by words and actions alone.
But the real reason the master used honorifics with him wasn't just age or bloodline.
The primary reason was
strength.
The disciple had surpassed the master in martial prowess, the most absolute standard in this world.
Zetarn had exceeded the old Abelrian's power years ago.
Yet this relationship persisted because the master was the only one who could impart the family's secret techniques and training methods passed down through generations.
That was why Zetarn honored him as master, the foundation of this peculiar mentor-disciple bond.
"Today's training will be the same as always."
The master said with a serious expression.
The two approached the materials laid out in one corner of the training hall.
They were rare training materials imported from across Zone 5 and even from foreign countries beyond the borders.
The master mixed a reddish ore powder with a viscous liquid among them and dipped a brush into it.
"Please remove your upper garments."
At his words, Zetarn familiarly took off his shirt,
revealing his well-honed, solid muscles.
The master promptly removed his own shirt as well,
and began applying the liquid to Zetarn's back with the brush nearby.
The brush traced over his shoulders, and the master meticulously coated his chest and abdomen too.
Zetarn did the same to the master's body.
It was like a solemn ritual.
With preparations complete, the two sat facing each other cross-legged in the center of the training hall.
"Let's begin."
With the master's low voice, they steadied their breathing and closed their eyes.
This training in the Perishing Sword methods was for expanding the vessel within the body,
consisting of four stages.
The first stage awakened all bodily senses to their limits.
The second stage carefully scanned the interior with those senses, activating various control forces.
The third extended the senses outward, using control forces to absorb the materials into the body.
The final fourth stage refined the absorbed materials through various methods.
As the stages progressed, gray energy began to rise from their bodies.
At first like faint smoke, the energy thickened,
and by the fourth stage, it emitted an intense light that illuminated the entire training hall.
About an hour passed like that.
The gray light gradually faded, and the two opened their eyes, drenched in sweat.
The Perishing Sword training methods didn't require long sessions.
At their level, the key was to unleash explosive energy management through extreme focus in short bursts.
Thus, consistency without fail every day was paramount.
Zetarn felt his body noticeably lighter as he exhaled and rose.
Satisfied with today's session, he wiped his sweat with a towel and asked the master.
"Master, at this rate, how long until I reach the next realm?"
The master paused mid-wipe, deep in thought.
He looked at Zetarn and spoke carefully.
"If you mean the Unity Realm, the fifth minor realm of the External Body Realm..."
As if still organizing his thoughts, he continued after a moment.
"Not exact, but... probably around ten years."
Even as he answered, the master gauged Zetarn's energy.
Among the high nobles he'd properly assessed, Zetarn was the only one training daily, leaving no comparisons.
Thus, even as master, he hesitated to give a firm answer.
Hearing this, Zetarn pondered.
Ten years.
Not a short time by any means, but he nodded.
The path of the External Body Realm was that arduous.
Currently, the master lingered at the third stage, Terrestrial Realm, while Zetarn had reached the higher fourth, Mid-Heaven Realm.
Gazing at Zetarn, the master once again felt awe and envy for the essence of talent: bloodline.
As he dressed, he said to the master.
"You've worked hard, Master. Let me treat you to a drink today."
"Heh heh, an honor to be treated by you, Count."
The two left the training hall.
The capital's streets blazed with lights even late at night, bustling with wealthy folk and nobles.
Zetarn's group headed toward the heart of the capital, where the palace stood.
Several dozen minutes after infiltrating the capital.
I roamed the entire city, taking stock.
The capital Defensia was far vaster than I'd imagined.
And
it was clearly a cut above the eastern metropolis or rural villages.
A significant portion of the Abelians passing through the streets were nobility, and those with 20+ stats were far from rare.
The nation's cultural traits stood out too.
By Earthling common sense, it made no sense for a capital—the administrative and political center—to be packed with training halls akin to dojos for martial groups.
Training halls of all sizes dotted every central district.
But no other overtly threatening elements caught my eye.
No magical barriers or unknown superweapons I couldn't detect.
It seemed feasible enough.
Just like in the eastern metropolis, ravaging this place with my power was within reach.
Of course, as Zone 5's capital, I stayed vigilant.
A territory vastly larger than Zone 4.
The monsters' stronghold ruling it.
Yet their seemingly feeble forces might hide an ace up their sleeve somewhere.
I set priorities.
Leadership.
Eliminate the core power movers first.
The rest would crumble on their own.
I turned my gaze to the capital's heart, the tallest structure there.
The massive palace walls towering grandly under the night sky.
Surrounding it were nobles' mansions in a row.
I swiftly approached the palace.
At that moment,
in front of a tavern in an alley.
My sensory net picked up two Abelians approaching.
One an old man, the other a sturdy young man.
Thinking domain use might alert someone,
I activated Energy Separation to read their energies more precisely.
The old Abelrian's stats clocked around 25.
The one beside him... about 27.
The two Abelians approached me.
Chatting amiably, but
as the distance closed, the young Abelrian spotted me first and halted.
Zetarn narrowed his eyes and asked.
"Human... traveler? An outsider wandering the streets this late—could it be..."
He didn't finish.
No need to.
Jet-black crimson energy—Unique Annihilation Flame—shot from my fingertips.
Paat!
Two streaks of dark red flashed vividly.
They pierced the two Abelians precisely, erasing them without a trace of ash.
Dodge? Defend?
Impossible to even attempt.
Simple reason for killing them.
They were monsters,
and if they realized I was an intruder, it might slightly derail plans.
Of course, with the massacre imminent, getting spotted wouldn't matter much.
As expected,
no items from them,
and I turned immediately, dashing toward the palace's inner walls in the opposite direction they'd been heading.
The inner walls.
The true defensive barrier encircling the palace.
I scaled it vertically.
Defying gravity, but with this physique, no different from sprinting flat ground.
How peaceful things had been—
atop the lofty walls poorly guarded, the capital's panorama unfolded before me.
Dead ahead loomed the massive royal palace at the city's heart, exuding majesty.
Castles large and small formed the palace complex,
with the central keep perfectly positioned in the middle catching my eye.
Distance to that keep: a few hundred meters,
close enough to fly there with Precision Enhancement and Domain if I wanted.
But after a moment's thought, I held off.
Better save Precision Enhancement for unforeseen needs.
It was essential for kill shots.
And this distance was trivial for my leaping power.
I leaped from the wall's edge,
the palace gardens and annexes dizzyingly far below.
First target: the castle ahead,
specifically the brightly lit top floor.
Capture the nearest castle, gauge their response, then decide on all-out war or continued assassination.
Thus, I soared over 100 meters of empty air, landing lightly on the terrace of the castle's top floor.
Beyond the windows, a room adorned with countless luxuries came into view.
Three Abelians sat around a table, faces grave in discussion.
Judging by attire, high nobles or royals.
I smashed through the window without hesitation.
Glass shards flew amid a deafening crash.
Startled by the sudden intruder, they stared in panic.
Then, the central Abelian shot up, shouting.
"Who are you!"
Far more ornate garb than the others.
His eyes gleamed jewel-like, fiercer, scales covering even his face's edges.
A distinctly different appearance from common nobles.
'Royal?'
To my silence, he grasped the situation and screamed.
"Assassin!! Stop him!"
At his command, the two beside drew weapons and charged.
Their moves might seem fast to some,
but to me, they crawled like snails.
Quick scan: early 20s stats.
No need to draw my sword.
I extended an open palm toward the approaching foes.
Unique Annihilation Flame erupted from my palm once more.
Paaang!
They vanished without swinging their drawn blades.
Now, only me and the presumed royal remained in the room.
Seeing the others erased in an instant, he backed away in terror.
Legs giving out, he collapsed and crawled backward.
"Kuhk... hik...!"
I approached slowly.
"Are you a royal?"
To my question, he nodded tremblingly.
"Y-yes! I'm royalty of this kingdom! Assassinate me, and your life ends too..."
He tried bluffing threats, but his voice shook pathetically.
Definitely royal.
Stats over 30 confirmed it.
Verification done, I reached out.
Papat—!
Unique Annihilation Flame burst his upper body.
Blood and flesh sprayed everywhere.
The royal's end was utterly anticlimactic.
I moved to the next action immediately.
Slightly drew on my demi-god power,
golden energy enveloping my fist.
I slammed it into the floor.
Kuwaaaaang—!!!!
Shockwave originated from my fist,
and collapse began.
Destruction from the top floor spread rapidly down walls, layer by layer.
Supporting pillars crumbled in chain reaction, walls endlessly collapsing.
I leaped into the air amid the crumbling castle debris.
Looking down, one palace castle raised dust clouds as it utterly collapsed.
The grand edifice turned to ruins in seconds.
Numerous Abelians inside crushed, system messages flooding in.
Hovering mid-air, I checked them, then opened the quest window.
Expected at least one elite quest cleared with the royal kill.
But...
Surprisingly, the elite quest remained incomplete.
Advanced too.
In that moment, I thought.
'Even killed a royal—why?'
A few minutes later, in the palace audience chamber.
Zone 5,
the king of the small kingdom Abelros sat on his jade throne, but his expression was far from calm.
Just moments ago, reports came of one capital castle collapsing with a thunderous roar.
Earthquake? Accident?
Before assessing, another messenger burst into the chamber.
The man's face was ashen.
"Y-Your Majesty! Disaster! The Second Castle... the Second Castle has collapsed too!"
"What?!"
The king shot to his feet.
The messenger prostrated, trembling violently as he reported.
"But we've identified the cause!! ...A-An unidentified assailant infiltrated and... destroyed the castle!"
"Assailant? One mere assailant toppled a castle? What were the troops doing?!"
The king's face twisted in rage and shock.
He bellowed at everyone.
"How! No one noticed until the bastard reached the capital?!"
Under the king's fury, the ministers in the chamber couldn't lift their heads.
The messenger bowed lower and said.
"Just speculation, but the intruder seems to have... killed everyone who spotted him."
Hearing this, the king stared blankly into space, dazed.
And
"Hah..."
he slumped back into his seat with a hollow groan.
Because he killed everyone, no reports until now.
To the king, this wasn't mere intrusion—it was calamity.
As the messenger's speculation filled the palace with dread,
that was when it happened.
From a shadowed corner chair in the audience chamber rose someone quietly.
Unlike other ministers, he sat even in the king's presence.
He stepped slowly into the light.
Oddly, not in ornate minister robes but a plain robe, an Abelian.
Ignoring the chamber's chaos,
he approached the window.
Gazing at smoke rising from the ruined castles, he drew a small communication orb from his bosom.
Then, in a calm, low voice, addressed the king.
"Looks like a crisis. I'll request aid from the Holy Land."
At those words,
the king's gaze, muddled with rage and fear, locked onto him.
Holy Land.
The true power behind this nation, now turning to its dispatched agent.