Chapter 80
Chapter 80
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 80
Chapter Title: Uninvited Guest (1)
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The journey back was just as long as the one there.
But before that, he couldn’t just leave Erebos as it was.
Demian decided to stop by a smithy in the city along the way to find equipment suitable for a spear shaft.
“Heavy is fine. I’d just like it as sturdy as possible.”
Erebos had the effect of corroding surrounding objects even when left alone.
Right now, only the hilt remained, so its corrosive power was weak, but it had the characteristic of growing stronger as it was restored.
In his previous life, when the restoration rate hit 70%, just drawing Erebos would turn everything nearby to dust.
“Heavy and sturdy, eh... How about this?”
The blacksmith brought out a long pole from the back.
“It’s something the lord near the city ordered for use as a flagpole. After we finished it, he said it was too heavy and didn’t take it. It’s just rotting here.”
Demian picked up the pole experimentally.
It was impossible with one hand; he needed both to lift it.
He gripped it with both hands and tested its strength. No matter how much force he applied, it didn’t bend at all.
“Impressive, right? We hammered steel for months and compressed it tight.”
It was extremely heavy and didn’t bend easily. It was the absolute worst for use as a spear shaft. It had been made for a flagpole to begin with.
Still, Demian took an immediate liking to this pole.
The weight would be good for training, and since it was compressed steel, it seemed like it could withstand Erebos’s corrosion for a long time.
“I’ll take this one.”
Demian asked the blacksmith for some bundles of steel wire as well.
Once outside the city, Demian drew Erebos.
Stored as a tattoo, Erebos emerged again at Demian’s will.
Demian pressed the hilt of Erebos against the end of the pole and wrapped it tightly with steel wire.
He channeled mana and even drew on his technique, wrapping it with all his strength. Erebos and the pole were now fixed together as if they were one.
“It doesn’t look great, but it should work well enough.”
Erebos had been a greatsword. It was enormous as a result. Even the bit of blade left at the end of the hilt was incredibly wide and thick.
Thanks to that, it looked less like a spear and more like a broken blade.
Demian infused mana into the shaft. Even with just a little, aura coated not only the broken blade but the entire pole.
“As expected, its essence doesn’t change.”
Erebos possessed countless powers. One of them was mana amplification.
Even a small amount of mana injected into it would multiply several times over. No one knew how it worked—not even Dorgo had figured it out.
The amplification increased as Erebos was restored.
In his previous life, he had once created an aurablade with Erebos so long it reached the heavens, slicing an entire army in half in an instant.
‘One more thing to check.’
Next, Demian thrust Erebos into the ground. Plants within a one-meter radius of the spear turned black.
The blackened plants soon crumbled to powder. Not just weeds—even towering ancient trees were no exception.
This was one of Erebos’s main powers: ‘Black Collapse.’
Black Collapse eroded its surroundings and then destroyed their structure.
Right now, the range was small and the power weak, but it would grow stronger along with the restoration rate.
In his previous life, no one could approach Demian because of Black Collapse. Living beings turned to dust just getting close, and even long-range magic barrages fared the same.
Only master-class could resist Black Collapse—and even they had to constantly expend mana to fend off the erosion.
“It really is too dangerous.”
Demian muttered as he turned Erebos back into black smoke and absorbed it.
Uniquely, not just Erebos but the entire pole turned to black smoke. This, too, was one of Erebos’s minor powers.
“Now it’s a straight shot home.”
Demian spurred his horse toward the Viscount Haksen estate.
* * *
As he drew near home, Demian couldn’t help feeling uneasy again.
“I wonder if Father’s anger has subsided.”
More than two weeks had passed going to and from the Longguist Mountains. In that time, word of Demian reaching middle-class must have spread far and wide.
Father would have heard it too, so maybe his fury had cooled.
Holding onto that hope, Demian arrived at the Viscount Haksen estate.
But the moment he stepped inside, something felt off. No one was there to welcome him—not a soul in sight.
No servants, no family. Demian extended his senses.
He detected multiple presences in the parlor on the second floor. Focusing, he could see the heat of people beyond the walls.
Demian headed to the parlor and opened the door without hesitation. That was when he saw his family, frozen in place.
The family was all seated on the parlor sofas. The problem was the hooded men standing behind them, weapons in hand.
“D-Demian...”
Father spoke with a face full of fear. Just as Demian was about to reply.
“You’re back.”
One of them spoke up. Like the others, he wore a hood, so his face was unrecognizable.
The man stepped forward. Two thugs approached and set down two chairs.
The man sat on one. One of the men stood behind him, like a bodyguard.
“Nice to finally meet face-to-face. Come, have a seat.”
The hooded man said from his chair. His voice was incredibly deep.
Demian sat obediently in the chair opposite him—facing away from the door.
“What business do you have with me?”
Demian leaned back in his chair as he asked. The man grinned, apparently pleased by the relaxed attitude.
“Not in a hurry, are we? Confidence? Or just acting to hide your true feelings?”
“Cut the nonsense and get to the point. What do you want with me.”
At Demian’s words, a man beside the hooded one stepped forward angrily. The hooded man raised a hand to stop him.
“Quite the hot temper. Or do you just not want to talk to me?”
“Both. So spit it out.”
“Hahaha, can’t be helped then.”
The man let out a short laugh, then addressed Demian.
“Demian Haksen, I came here to verify the rumors.”
“Rumors?”
“Word is you helped the Church take down a black mage... and that you’ve already reached the middle-class realm.”
The man switched the leg he had crossed and continued.
“Honestly, I can’t believe it. From what I know, just a few months ago, you were nothing but a worthless playboy. For someone like that to reach middle-class in less than half a year... impossible.”
It was a reasonable suspicion.
Even reaching low-class within a year of learning the sword earned you the title of once-in-a-generation genius.
Yet Demian Haksen had reached middle-class in barely half a year—maybe less.
“It’s not entirely unprecedented.”
“Ah, true. Throughout history, maybe one or two cases? In other words, your growth rate is on that level. Hard to believe.”
The man picked up a teacup from the table.
“Most who’ve heard the rumors don’t buy it. I’m one of them. That’s why I came to check.”
The man snapped his fingers twice. The men behind the family struck the floor with their weapons. At the harsh sound, the family flinched.
“I’ll say this upfront: refusal isn’t an option. You know what happens if you do...”
Demian clicked his tongue briefly. His displeasure was reaching its peak.
“Bunch of nobodies acting tough.”
At those words, the man standing like a bodyguard beside the hooded one bristled again.
“Watch your mouth. This isn’t someone you can speak to like that.”
“Then why’s someone so exalted pulling this shitty stunt?”
Explosive energy burst from the man. The unleashed pressure slammed into Demian’s face and body.
‘Middle-class.’
He looked young, yet he’d already reached middle-class. No ordinary talent.
“Time to teach you to bow that stiff neck!”
The man lunged forward, hand on his sword hilt. Demian, still seated, stomped on the hilt with his foot.
The man couldn’t draw his sword. Meanwhile, Demian kicked the hilt and launched himself backward over the chair.
‘Fighting here could hurt the family.’
Demian burst through the door and outside. A beat later, the man followed.
The man swung at Demian’s back as he pursued. The aura-coated blade slashed toward Demian at ferocious speed.
Demian blocked the attack with the iron sword he’d used in the Longguist Mountains.
‘This bastard’s wrecking someone else’s house.’
Dodging was easy, but that might put the family in the direct line of fire.
Demian parried just enough to block while luring the man outside the estate.
“How long do you plan to just run?!”
The man shouted in frustration and drew more mana.
A middle-class capable of shifting the tides of war was going all out.
The sheer mana pouring out was already sending nearby objects flying.
At the sight, Demian couldn’t help grimacing.
“This lunatic.”
When a middle-class truly unleashed their power, turning the surrounding area to rubble was commonplace.
If this guy went full force, the estate—not to mention the fields—would be ruined.
He already felt guilty toward his family. He couldn’t destroy their home too.
Demian activated his technique.
The first effect of the technique took hold. His body temperature spiked. Muscles and senses throughout his body activated.
His senses sharpened to the extreme. The world slowed. Sweat droplets flying from the man’s forehead hung in the air.
One step.
He advanced. He parried the horizontal slash aimed at his neck with his sword.
The swordmaster realm of ‘Universal Flow Insight’ activated. The blade’s trajectory twisted. The slash, level with the ground, suddenly shot upward.
The sword slipped from the man’s grip and flew far away.
“...!”
The man’s face registered shock a moment later. Demian didn’t hesitate and kicked him in the gut.
“Guhk!”
With a gruesome sound, the man’s body folded forward and flew backward.
He rolled across the ground several times. Clutching his stomach in agony, he couldn’t get up.
Demian kicked off the ground. Without pause, he swung for the man’s neck.
Just as the blade touched the man’s neck.
“Hold it.”
Someone intervened between them. Five fingers gripped Demian’s iron sword, stopping it.
Demian looked at the one holding the blade. It was the middle-aged man from the parlor.
“Almost caused a funeral there. Isn’t that a bit much?”
“You’re the ones going too far.”
Demian withdrew his sword as he retorted.
“A high-class pulling this childish crap.”
“Hmm? You already figured it out? Takes the fun out of it.”
The man removed his hood. A middle-aged face covered in beard appeared.
“I was gonna do a cool intro after the fight. Things got messy.”
“I know threatening my family was fake too.”
“You saw through that? Now it’s really no fun.”
The man spoke with a regretful expression.
“Guess I’ll introduce myself properly.”
Demian already knew, even without his past-life memories.
Any citizen of Apple Kingdom would know.
“The name’s Liam Bluegreen.”
A high-class—one of only three in Apple Kingdom.
A man who pledged loyalty solely to the king stood before him.