Chapter 249
Chapter 249
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 249
Chapter Title: Parting (2)
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Demian forgot to think for a moment. An utterly unexpected figure stood before him.
The Empire's Greatest Sword.
A knight reigning at the pinnacle of the Empire, where master-class swordsmen piled up like mountains.
People speculated endlessly about who was humanity's strongest—placing the Empire's Greatest Sword alongside the Sword Saint, the Holy Order's Azure Flame, and the Sword Queen who would rise later.
But Demian, who had clashed with them all, knew the truth.
No matter what anyone said, the Empire's Greatest Sword was humanity's strongest.
Among those hailed as candidates, no one came close to his unrivaled prowess.
Even Demian in his Death Knight days had nearly fallen to defeat.
At present, the only being who could stand against him was Pandemonium's master—and even that fell far short.
The Empire's Greatest Sword gave Demian a quick once-over.
"Got an umbrella?"
The remark was so out of left field that Demian's composure cracked.
"Hey. Is that really what you came out with?"
"Rain's coming tomorrow. I can feel that fate bearing down strong. Better prep now."
Demian stared at him in disbelief.
'No, wait— he's always been this guy.'
Put kindly, the Empire's Greatest Sword inhabited his own world. Less charitably, he was stark raving mad.
Those had been his very first words to Demian in his previous life too.
—Hot, isn't it?
Demian remembered bursting into hollow laughter at the sheer absurdity.
Of course, back then he'd been trapped inside his own body, unable to act on it.
"What brings you here?"
The Empire's Greatest Sword rarely set foot outside the capital. He stayed holed up in the imperial palace, showing no activity whatsoever.
So whenever he surfaced, the entire Empire buzzed.
'Not surprising, after I took down Slara.'
Among Pandemonium's great evils, Slara had commanded a colossal force.
With a heavyweight like that dead, the Empire's Greatest Sword taking an interest in Demian was only natural.
"Slara... right, Slara's gone. Most peculiar. I never sensed death in her fate before."
He spoke in a distant, dreamlike tone. The Sword Saint at his side forced a wry smile.
"Don't overthink it. That's just how he is. Always spouting nonsense no one gets."
The Empire's Greatest Sword bore the moniker of Prophet as well.
He drifted off into vague ramblings often enough—and sometimes, eerily, they hit the mark.
"Demian Haksen."
At that moment, power gathered in his irises. Crimson eyes bored into Demian like augers.
'That look—same as my previous life.'
Born with diluted pigmentation, he had ghostly white skin and hair, matched by scarlet eyes.
Most found his gaze oppressive.
Not just the color. It was the sensation—like being stripped utterly bare.
Then it happened.
He blinked once, and the world shifted.
No longer in his lodging, Demian stood beneath a night sky. A field of vivid yellow blossoms carpeted the ground at his feet.
Nothing else existed. Just Demian and the Empire's Greatest Sword.
Without warning, the man swung. A trajectory of breathtaking beauty sliced for Demian's throat.
In the next instant, reality snapped back—the lodging in full view.
Demian touched his neck. No cut, not even a scratch. The Empire's Greatest Sword held no sword in hand.
'...Cute trick.'
What had just severed his neck was the man's mental realm.
He brimmed with bizarre gifts no one else possessed.
One allowed him to drag others into his mindscape.
Word was he honed his sword there—and occasionally summoned folk to test theories.
"Your games are getting out of hand."
The Sword Saint whipped around to glare at him.
"You didn't just pull that stunt again, did you? I told you—everyone's terrified. Cut it out."
"Why'd you just stand there?"
The Empire's Greatest Sword ignored the Sword Saint's scolding entirely. With a sigh of long suffering, the latter shook his head.
"In there, all limits vanish. It's pure skill on skill. So why didn't you parry?"
"Not that I wouldn't. I couldn't. How does anyone block the Empire's Greatest Sword?"
"You're lying."
He refuted Demian on the spot.
"I can sense it. This isn't your true level. So drop the mask. No deceptions."
Those red eyes pinned him.
"I came today to see the real you."
Demian let out a silent breath.
This was exactly what he'd dreaded the moment the man appeared.
By Demian's reckoning, the Empire's Greatest Sword's insight transcended mortal bounds.
Even as a Death Knight, midway through their duel, the man had said:
—How long have you endured like this? Impressive you didn't break.
—Madness might've been kinder. Just accept what you'd become.
—Clinging to your humanity to the bitter end? Foolish... but noble.
A man like that might pierce Demian's veil of restraint.
And sure enough, instinct proved right.
Demian weighed his options. Fooling him was impossible.
Better to lay it all bare, then.
Besides, deep down, Demian itched for a proper clash.
This man had been his direst foe in that past life.
"If that's what you want, then see it."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the world warped again. Night sky. Flower field.
No time to admire—the onslaught rushed in.
Demian angled his blade. The strike halted dead at his throat.
Only then did a smile curl the Empire's Greatest Sword's lips.
"There we go. Now show me you."
He drew back his sword, then lunged anew. Demian met him head-on.
Dozens of thrusts blurred past sight, clashing in fury.
His sword lacked flair. Nor speed. Nor raw savagery.
Plain. Quiet. Monotonous, even.
Yet impossibly hard to counter. A flicker of focus, and the edge kissed your nape.
'It was already perfected back then.'
The more their blades met, the more Demian marveled. Identical to that fateful duel in his past life.
"You're still not fully visible."
The Empire's Greatest Sword murmured low.
"Perhaps this will reveal you."
He vanished. The night sky ignited with sword arcs.
Thousands? Tens of thousands?
An uncountable swarm bore down, poised not just to rend Demian but pulverize him to dust.
Horrific as it was, Demian didn't flinch.
His real-world self couldn't have countered.
But here in the mindscape, flesh and mana knew no chains. He unleashed everything.
Demian's sword stirred.
It deflected the tide. Shattered it. Severed it.
The storm devouring him faltered. Rebuffed, it could draw no nearer.
The instant space cleared, Demian spun. His blade carved a vast arc.
Darkness erupted.
A black thrust rent the tempest. Every trajectory winked out.
A path yawned open. There, far off, stood the Empire's Greatest Sword.
He stared at Demian, astonishment writ plain.
"This can't be..."
Demian launched from the earth. Sword flashed.
A elongated thrust sheared his throat.
* * *
Reality returned the instant the neck parted.
"I yield."
The Sword Saint's jaw dropped.
True enough, the Empire's Greatest Sword had once been Demian's archfoe.
But Demian had already bested him—absorbed his arts, ascended beyond.
He was no match now.
"Remarkable. Your swordplay weaves countless styles. Like battling hundreds in unison."
He spoke with that dreamy cast.
"Yet rooted in one core. From it, all else flows."
Eyes fixed on Demian, he asked,
"Demian Haksen—you're a Dark Knight."
The Sword Saint's eyes bulged. He rounded on the man.
"What drivel is this? Sir Demian, a Dark Knight?!"
Again, no answer. The Sword Saint looked ready to burst a vein.
"But no malice dwells in you. Hatred, rage—they brim, yet aim elsewhere. Your fate never turned our way."
He shut his eyes a moment. As if deep in thought.
"...Wise of me to come. Now all stands clear."
Eyes still closed, he pressed on.
"Demian Haksen, I sense fates. Yet from some point, the world's thread wrenched askew. Cause unknown, reason veiled. I know only the twist."
His eyes snapped open. Crimson locked on Demian.
"Demian Haksen, your slaying of Slara defied destiny. Yet paradoxically, it eased the warp. Let me glimpse the flow, however briefly."
He paused, then spoke unwavering.
"Demian Haksen—I die soon."
* * *
"...What are you saying?"
Demian couldn't help blurting it out. The man wasn't fated to die so soon.
In the apocalypse war, he'd endured to the end, leading the Empire's armies. Only much later did he fall to Demian.
"Indeed. Death never marked my path before. But fate twisted. All changed. My end comes swiftly."
Cryptic words. Impossible to dismiss.
His prophecies struck true with uncanny precision.
"Death holds no terror. The world it births does. The future crumbling from my fall fills me with dread beyond bearing. That's why I sought you."
His words unfurled at length.
"Demian Haksen, soon your nemesis reclaims himself. Trivial, that. Such a ripple can't touch you. The true peril follows."
His tone darkened faintly.
"A greater twist looms. Vast enough to blind. My gifts can't even fathom its shape."
He stated it flatly.
"Prepare, then. Grow stronger still. Steel yourself against the calamity ahead."
His hand dipped into his robes. Out came an object.
A shard black as pitch iron.
Massive, bearing fracture marks. Bladed edges on both sides.
Demian's eyes widened at the sight.
"I'd sought a way to unmake it. But now I feel its fate—bound to you."
Erebos's fragment.
He extended it.
"May it light your way."