Chapter 429
Chapter 429
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 429
Chapter Title: Clash of the Sword Saints
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"Once you break through the Armored Dragon and enter Alkaya, waiting for you at the temple entrance will be the apostate's masterpiece."
The being the apostate called his masterpiece.
"Sword Master Kuntel."
Based on the time before Kyle's awakening, Kuntel stood at the pinnacle of humanity in the realm of the sword. And, as is typical for a swordsman who had reached that peak...
"He's an excessively troublesome opponent. Especially for mages."
To a mage, Kuntel was akin to a natural predator.
Not only did he read the precursors of spells and slice them apart, but he even severed the flow of mana itself. With the hero's flesh fused into him, Kuntel would maintain his peak prowess at all times, and his swordsmanship, honed to the absolute limit, bordered on the divine.
"To face him, we'd need a war of attrition, but the battle has to continue right in the heart of Alkaya. If we don't push into the temple, the demonic beasts will just keep pouring out endlessly."
Kuntel, along with hundreds of demonic beasts.
The moment time started to drag against them, the tide of battle would turn in an instant. Raniel smacked the operation chart pinned to the blackboard with the back of her hand.
"The key to Alkaya is a blitz."
A speed battle to reach the center.
The instant it dragged on, it would be their defeat.
"So, here..."
Raniel looked at Kalt.
Kalt slowly nodded.
"As per the plan, I'll take on Master Kuntel alone."
Kalt declared.
"That's why I became a superhuman."
2.
Before the surging wave of demonic beasts, the subjugation force scattered.
Draka, Rak, Natida.
Destel, Chloe, Belnoa.
Kelrhalhm, Resti.
The force, split into three groups, bypassed Kuntel standing at the center of the filth wave and charged toward the temple. Their goal was to enter the temple interior. Dealing with Kuntel wasn't their role.
Shring.
But Kuntel wasn't about to let that happen.
Taking in at a glance those trying to split into three and pass him by, Kuntel swung his sword. The blade raised horizontal to the sky. The edge pointing right vanished in an instant, like evaporating.
Kiiing.
With the ringing of the blade, the sword tip reappeared aimed left. A strike so fast it was impossible to follow with the eyes. The moment the thin line it traced sought to swallow the subjugation force with a silent slicing sound...
Not a clean slash, but a deafening kaaaang! of clashing blades echoed.
Interrupting Kuntel's sword path was Kalt's blade. Only Kalt could clearly perceive that ultra-fast strike swung from outside normal perception. The horizontal slash twisted along Kalt's sword path.
Kagagagagak!
The deflected sword aura plunged vertically into the ground instead of horizontally. With a crack, the earth split. The instant his sword path twisted, Kuntel furrowed his brow.
"......"
Kuntel silently gazed ahead.
There stood Kalt, wearing a faint smile.
"Who are you looking at?"
Kalt sheathed his sword.
In that brief flick of the blade, the filth wave surging toward him shattered into fragments and collapsed.
"It's been a while since your disciple came to visit."
Kalt smiled.
"Please, grant me a bout, Master."
Kuntel's eyes no longer turned toward the subjugation force.
The old swordsman regarded the young one before him. A worthy adversary who had appeared here. Kuntel slowly assumed his stance. Watching him, Kalt exhaled shortly.
The subjugation force racing past Kuntel toward the temple doors.
Destel, at their forefront, glanced back.
A brief exchange of looks. Then Kalt nodded and stepped forward. To fulfill the mission he had taken on. To prove the path he had walked.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Charge!"
Destel kicked open the temple doors and plunged inside. Those who had scattered converged to a point and passed through the entrance. The sight that greeted them upon crossing was a workshop drowned in filth.
An alchemist's lair filled with traces of apostasy, worthy of being called the worst imaginable. They'd heard what might be there beforehand, but seeing it with their own eyes inevitably brought on dry heaves.
Leaving the gruesome scene behind, they scattered once more.
Splitting into three to smash key points in the workshop, infiltrate the center, and ultimately surround the apostate Gletus from all sides. That was the core of the apostate subjugation operation following the Alkaya extermination battle.
Draka, Rak, Natida.
Destel, Chloe, Belnoa.
Kelrhalhm, Resti.
And Raniel and Remia coming from the opposite side.
As the scattered subjugation force raced toward the temple's heart, one person remained behind. Kariot, at the rearmost of the force, halted his steps. He stopped before the temple doors and reached back.
What he gripped was the sword of the crimson cross.
The moment he drew the cross sword, Kariot swung it. The wave surging beyond the temple doors split with a splurt under his sword strike.
Snap.
Resti, sprinting toward the temple depths, snapped her fingers. Space tore open, revealing part of Resti's familiars. Three golems bearing massive coffins.
"Oh. Sturdy-looking, aren't they?"
Kariot chuckled wryly at the golems approaching beside him.
"Thanks, witch girl."
Glancing at the subjugation force's receding backs, Kariot turned to face outside the temple. That was his stage. Where the black filth waves churned.
Slash.
Swinging his sword, Kariot stepped out of the temple. The waves outside sought to pursue the subjugation force heading deep into the temple, but...
"Not happening."
At the temple entrance.
Kariot, standing before the doors, gestured. The three golems that followed him sealed the temple doors. With a rumble, the doors shut.
"Behind me."
The three golems slammed their coffins into the ground.
With a thud, the coffin lids opened.
"Not a single one passes through these doors."
Inside the coffins lay countless blades.
Filled to the brim with blades of every shape, along with magic swords and artifacts etched with circuits. Gripping his crimson cross sword, Kariot hardened his expression.
"Not one."
That was the mission given to the immortal Kariot.
To guard the backs of the children charging ahead.
Gazing at the surging demonic beast waves, Kariot offered a prayer. Not to anyone else, but to himself. The god Kariot believed in wasn't high in the heavens.
It resided low, within himself.
He who made only his own convictions his faith, even in the land of Alkaya where the faithless tread, Kariot's faith did not waver. A pure white light seeped from Kariot's body. Before that light, the filth waves churned violently.
Light, faith, divinity.
Resentment, hatred, curses manifested in this place. The waves of demonic beasts and filth now focused solely on Kariot.
"Hoo..."
Exhaling briefly, Kariot.
Faced the surging waves and shouted.
More precisely, toward what lay beyond them.
"Go on, bro."
His voice reached Kalt, crossing blades with Kuntel. Kalt realized the waves circling him had vanished entirely. A brief respite born. Breathing heavily, Kalt leaped back shortly.
As he leaped, Kalt reached for his waist.
What he drew was the artifact received before the operation began. Kalt hurled the cube-shaped artifact at Kuntel. The moment Kuntel sliced the incoming artifact with a splurt, a blinding white flash engulfed Kuntel and Kalt.
When the flash faded, no one was there.
Gazing at where Kuntel and Kalt had vanished, Kariot soon fed his own blood to the cross sword. Thorned vines sprouted from the cross, wrapping around Kariot's arm. The pain that affirmed he was alive.
"Man, what a fiery woman."
Recalling his wife, fiery even in death, Kariot burst into hearty laughter. Laughing, he threw himself at the waves.
The surging demonic beast waves.
Flesh torn by bites, blood bursting forth.
Blood, pain, and trials.
The veteran knight raised his sword to defend his convictions.
3.
As the flash faded, Kuntel looked ahead.
What met his eyes upon opening them was not the Alkaya plain he'd stood on moments ago. Looking up, there was no sun. Instead, a vast night sky stretched out.
...Familiar.
Looking around, sheer cliffs rose.
A steep canyon. Kuntel stood at its center. The apostate's masterpiece knew nothing of this canyon. But the human 'Kuntel' at its core remembered this landscape.
Galatric.
Sword Canyon, Galatric.
The place where Kuntel had spent his youth. Where he had honed his blade against senior brothers and his master. Amid old memories, Kuntel did not swing his sword immediately. At the same time, his eyes pierced the essence of this space.
...This is a space that does not truly exist.
A illusory landscape conjured by an artifact. If anything, it resembled the otherworldly scenes familiars of summoners traversed. So Kuntel surmised, and his guess was spot on.
This artifact crafted by Cardi operated on the same principle as the Star Chalice. Basing on the user's memories, it created a severed illusory space.
Of course, it wasn't as sturdy as the Star Chalice, nor did deaths here erase reality. The artifact merely provided the space.
Step.
Though he could tear the space and escape if determined, Kuntel did not. More precisely, he could not.
Step.
The moment he assumed a stance to rip the space, that swordsman wouldn't let the opening slide. Kuntel watched the swordsman approaching from opposite him.
Thud.
Kalt, heir to the Sword Saint's name, stopped.
In Kalt's hand was an empty vial.
The liquid it had contained was a serum based on life essence harvested from the World Tree's core.
"Hoo..."
Exhaling briefly, Kalt opened his eyes.
Tossing the empty vial, he drew his sword. Beneath the night sky, the silver blade gleamed under starlight.
"......"
Kuntel also raised his sword.
The two swordsmen faced each other.
Humm.
As low sword hums resonated, Kalt and Kuntel assumed the exact same stance at the exact same moment. Breaths aligned, blades unwavering, even the ground's vibrations matched.
Their swords did not yet clash.
But in the futures they foresaw, blades crossed countless times. Blood sprayed repeatedly. Amid myriad futures, Kalt recalled the past facing this proud swordsman before him.
"...To the battlefield at that age?"
"Parents dead, no way to eat but war? End of times, huh. Poor kid."
"Live like that, you won't last long, kid."
"Follow me. Learn something if you want to survive."
In the past, Kuntel taught swordsmanship to green soldiers wandering battlefields. Hoping they'd live long, or that Galatric's techniques, known only to him now, would pass on.
Kalt had been one of them.
Kalt learned the sword from Kuntel, and how to harness his talent. Thus, he admired and respected Kuntel. He yearned to become a superhuman like him.
"...Someday."
Recalling the past.
Kalt smiled.
"I wanted to show you."
Moonlit sword aura bloomed over Kalt's blade.
"That the boy you taught had finally become a superhuman. That he could stand where you are."
That he could fulfill a man's role.
I wanted to show you.
That dream couldn't come true in your lifetime, but now it's realized in this twisted form. Should I be grateful for that, or curse the world?
He didn't know.
What he did know was one thing.
'I must prove it.'
To affirm his life, the path he'd walked, Kalt raised his sword. That's how he'd arrived here.
"Please, grant me a bout."
Kalt kicked off the ground.
Kuntel kicked off the ground.
"Master."
The Sword Saint of the previous generation and the current Sword Saint charged at each other. With every step, the earth cracked. Boulders flew. Dust swirled like a whirlwind.
Same stance. Same footwork. Same breath.
Tracing identical trajectories, their swords clashed.