Chapter 55
Chapter 55
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: Jack Noir (1)
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As the sun set, Demian stopped the carriage and prepared to camp.
"Come everyone, it's time for dinner."
Victor handled dinner.
The group filled their bellies with the food Victor made, then turned in for the night.
To prepare for any contingencies, Olivia slept inside the carriage, while the other three laid out sleeping bags outside.
That was when the night had deepened.
A black shadow approached the campsite. Its movements were so stealthy that not even a footstep could be heard.
No one in the campsite noticed the intruder's approach. They were simply lost in deep sleep.
The intruder slowly drew a dagger. The pure white blade gleamed ominously in the moonlight.
Before swinging the blade, the intruder counted the people lying in the campsite one by one.
One in the carriage, two outside.
……Two?
"I was starting to get bored to death waiting for you."
A voice came from above. The intruder quickly looked up.
Someone was sitting atop the carriage.
"Jack Noir, did you want to kill me that badly?"
Against the backdrop of the night sky, Demian Haksen sneered.
* * *
"How did you know I was coming?"
Jack Noir spoke in a flat tone. Even though he'd been caught off guard, he didn't seem particularly surprised.
"Trying to pry into someone else's secrets that easily? What's the point?"
"Smart. There's no benefit in revealing yourself to others."
Jack Noir nodded as he spoke. Demian felt a twinge of oddity at the sight.
"Strange. I figured you'd fly into a rage the moment you saw my face."
"Why would I be angry at you?"
Demian responded to the counterquestion with equal bewilderment.
"Because I got you hunted by the church."
"Oh, that? I was pissed off at first, just like you said, but I decided to let it go. Being wanted by the church is a hassle, but I can just change my face and flee to the outskirts of the continent."
Demian's brow furrowed slightly.
To so casually speak of discarding his own name and identity.
His breathing and speech patterns showed no sign of lying. Jack Noir meant every word.
Now he understood the source of the discomfort he'd felt since first laying eyes on him.
Jack Noir was human in form, but somehow lacking something essential to humanity.
"Then why did you follow me?"
"To take the opportunity you possess."
"……Opportunity?"
Demian's brow furrowed even more. The remark had come out of nowhere.
"No use hiding it. You definitely got your hands on something left behind by a Master Class. You've grown this strong thanks to the memories and knowledge contained within it."
"Never happened."
Demian made a face like the man was spouting nonsense.
"No use lying. If not an opportunity, how do you explain your rapid growth in skill?"
"I'm a bit of a genius."
Silence hung between them for a moment.
Jack Noir clicked his tongue briefly.
"To hide your openings so thoroughly. Smart. Too smart—it's starting to piss me off."
"No, really?"
"I was going to let you live in exchange for the opportunity…… but since you're acting like this, no choice. I'll kill you and take it."
Jack Noir tossed aside his dagger. He slowly drew the sword at his waist.
Unlike a normal blade, its edge undulated like a wave.
"Treasures belong in the hands of those qualified to wield them."
Jack Noir spun the blade once. A strange sound accompanied the afterimage that lingered briefly before vanishing.
"So hand over the opportunity quietly."
Demian gripped his Thousand-Mile Sword with a mocking smile.
"What bullshit."
* * *
Demian and Jack Noir charged almost simultaneously.
The two swords clashed in midair. Neither yielded an inch.
They leaped back at the same time. The moment they created distance, Jack Noir sprang forward again.
He thrust at Demian's face.
As if he'd anticipated it, Demian easily parried the blade and aimed for his opponent's throat.
But Jack Noir smoothly deflected Demian's strike as well.
Each clash of their swords boomed like thunder, shaking the surrounding trees.
'Top-tier Middle Class, as expected. No wasted power.'
The Yulan leader he'd fought before was a Middle Class black mage. Every punch caused earthquakes and shattered terrain.
Jack Noir's attacks seemed lacking by comparison. But in reality, that wasn't the case at all.
Jack Noir could unleash even greater destructive power if he wanted. Yet he condensed all that force into his blade.
Proof lay in the occasional traces his sword left on the surroundings.
Whenever the blade grazed a tree trunk, the entire tree sliced clean through. The cut surface was smooth enough to use as a mirror.
And this was without even manifesting Aura.
'Good thing I cast black magic on the others beforehand.'
Demian thought as he glanced at his companions lying on the ground.
Amid this commotion, they remained in deep slumber. Thanks to the black magic inducing profound sleep.
Demian planned to hide his true level for the time being, to avoid unnecessary hassle.
Thus, he had no desire to let them see him fighting Jack Noir.
'I need to move the fight.'
Continuing here risked involving them.
Demian parried Jack Noir's sword and dashed sideways.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Jack Noir pursued. The two raced through the forest trails, swinging their blades.
Dozens of exchanges per breath. The air whistled ceaselessly from their cuts.
'Very insidious swordsmanship.'
Demian had been analyzing Jack Noir's swordplay since the fight began.
It wasn't honest swordsmanship that shattered the opponent's techniques head-on for victory.
It targeted vitals relentlessly, clinging to weaknesses.
And this wasn't merely Jack Noir's disposition.
It stemmed from the essence of the swordsmanship he practiced.
'Hm?'
He sensed Jack Noir's mana fluctuating wildly. A sign he was preparing a technique.
"Not bad. But it's over now."
Jack Noir slashed down in a straight line.
The power and mana in the blade were immense, but the large motion seemed easy to block.
Yet Demian didn't block. He let it come straight for his head.
As Jack Noir's sword reached Demian's head, it dissolved into an illusion and vanished.
Immediately after, a slash targeted his throat.
Demian had already seen through the first strike as a feint and the second as the real one.
He raised his blade to block. A ferocious force shoved his body back.
Jack Noir halted his attack and created distance. He spoke with an astonished expression.
"……Unbelievable. A mere Low Class blocking my attack like this."
Middle Class was on another level from Low Class.
It wasn't an exaggeration to say they overwhelmingly surpassed in physical abilities and mana capacity.
But the decisive difference between the realms wasn't that.
It was the depth of their techniques.
A Middle Class technique, born of enlightenment, delved far deeper than a Low Class one.
Normally, a Low Class couldn't exchange blows with a Middle Class this long.
"And you even saw through my ultimate technique."
The phantom Jack Noir had just shown wasn't an ordinary move.
It was an ultimate technique from the swordsmanship he practiced.
Phantom Sword.
A type that used mana to create illusions, piercing the opponent's guard.
Among sword arts, it was one of the hardest to learn and apply.
"Told you. Genius."
Demian tapped his shoulder with the flat of his blade as he spoke.
During the fight, he'd deduced it was Phantom Sword from Jack Noir's stance and mana flow.
Once seen through, blocking was simple. Rely on senses other than sight.
"Hey?"
When Jack Noir fell silent, Demian looked at him quizzically.
"……Now I get it."
Jack Noir nodded slowly after a long pause.
"The knowledge from the opportunity is that profound. Your realm is Low Class, but technically you've reached Middle Class."
"Still on about that?"
"Must be an incredible opportunity. I'm looking forward to seeing just what it is."
A smile crept onto Jack Noir's face. It looked like a statue forcing a grin, which soured Demian's mood.
"It's been ages since I felt this excited. I can't wait to see the opportunity you obtained."
Jack Noir channeled mana. Aura began to coat the blade he held.
"Do you know the decisive difference between Low Class and Middle Class?"
Low Class Aura resembled heat haze.
Middle Class Aura was far denser. Like swirling smoke.
"It's the manifestation of intent in Aura. Beyond merely manifesting it—transforming it. That's Middle Class."
Jack Noir stepped forward.
Countless afterimages trailed in his wake. Astonishingly, they didn't stop upon forming.
They dashed in different directions. Some left, some right, some leaped into the air.
The afterimages dispersed into the air after traveling a short distance.
Jack Noir circled Demian.
Dozens of afterimages surrounded Demian Haksen, leaving no gap for escape.
"I'll show you my intent."
One afterimage charged at Demian.
Demian didn't rely on his eyes. He heightened his other senses to judge.
They screamed: not an illusion—the real one.
Demian raised his sword to block the real. A heavy impact struck.
But the Jack Noir he'd thought real scattered away.
"Hm?"
Before Demian could be surprised, another afterimage charged from behind.
His senses declared this one real too.
Demian spun and slashed at its throat. But it was another illusion.
"……Oh?"
Demian wore an intrigued expression. He hadn't expected it to fool his senses so completely.
In his previous life, he'd faced knights who used Phantom Sword.
But nothing this unique.
"Impressive, isn't it? I spent my life reconstructing this sword art."
Jack Noir's voice echoed from amid the afterimages. They moved ceaselessly, bewildering Demian's eyes.
"They're all fake, yet real. Your senses can't tell what's real."
The afterimages leveled their blades at Demian in unison.
"This is the end."
Dozens of afterimages lunged at Demian Haksen simultaneously.
Watching the scene, Demian let out a scoff.
"Fun, but nothing special."
First-timers were inevitably overwhelmed by Phantom Sword. Mesmerized by the mystical technique turning illusions real.
But in truth, Phantom Sword wasn't that remarkable. Lacking destructive power compared to Heavy Sword, slower than Quick Sword.
Attacks that struck at openings.
That was the core of Phantom Sword.
Fortunately, Demian had the perfect technique to counter it.
"Seems you're awfully proud of that sword art."
Demian stroked the Thousand-Mile Sword with his palm. It vibrated, emitting a sword cry.
"I'll shatter that illusion."
Demian flicked the Thousand-Mile Sword with his finger.
Demonic Sword - Voice of Carnage
A sword cry that tore at the ears engulfed the space.