Chapter 133
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 133
Chapter Title: I Knew It
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Speed.
Until just moments ago, his afterimages had been dropping one every few seconds.
But now Rimon was suddenly slicing through two or three per second—six or more at peak—causing the rate of afterimage creation to fall hopelessly behind.
From a hundred down to ninety, then eighty.
Ryu Gangcheol panicked at the steadily dwindling number of afterimages.
[What trick is this?!]
His movements hadn't gotten faster.
His strikes hadn't suddenly grown more powerful, nor was he cutting down multiple at once.
He was still cleanly slicing through one at a time with those precise, almost monotonously simple motions.
So why were they collapsing at this insane rate? As Ryu Gangcheol swung his scythe in bewildered panic—
Slash.
He realized it.
Rimon was felling his afterimages before they could even attack.
That eliminated any time wasted on blocking or dodging, creating this terrifying speed gap.
[How the hell...?!]
Before the scythe could swing.
The instant he stepped forward.
The very moment he leaped down from the ceiling.
Like a ghost, Rimon read the movements and positioned his sword ahead of time.
The timing was so exquisite that Ryu Gangcheol grimaced, feeling as if he were charging straight into his own blade.
To him, Rimon quipped sharply.
"How? You idiot. Forgot already? Who gave you those tips when you were trying to grab my afterimages?"
Ryu Gangcheol involuntarily recalled.
The fight against Wailing.
The horrific memory of every move being read from a few curt words over the phone, leaving him utterly helpless.
[This isn't like back then!]
"What's different now?"
That was before using Constellation Descent.
Back when he only had duke-level combat power.
How could the same result happen now, vastly stronger, with each afterimage at grand duke level?
Rimon sneered coldly at Ryu Gangcheol's indignant questioning.
"No matter how big or fast you get, your actual movements haven't changed a jot."
The reason Rimon could carve through Ryu Gangcheol like a scarecrow this whole time.
It boiled down to perfectly dissecting his combat techniques and behavioral patterns through the corpses he'd slain.
And that dissection still worked perfectly on Ryu Gangcheol.
Wearing thick armor?
Movements several times faster?
Able to spawn afterimages nonstop?
Tough luck—none of it mattered against Rimon.
Knowing how an opponent thinks and moves meant knowing how to kill them.
And since he could manifest any principle with his sword, that alone let him fell dukes or grand dukes like bundles of straw.
No matter the transformation.
No matter the abilities.
Rimon just read the sword-path of their death and placed his blade there at the right moment.
That was the True Demon Dragon Slaying Sword.
Conceived by the first Sword Master, perfected by Rimon over centuries.
The pinnacle of swordsmanship, so meticulously reasoned that every Sword Master unanimously called it a cheat.
"If anything, your thought patterns changed so much from your usual that it took time to adjust for the variance."
[What the hell does that mean?]
"You don't get it?"
As if peering into his soul, Rimon fixed his blackened eyes on Ryu Gangcheol.
Then, seeing him not just clad in armor but seemingly fused with it, consumed by it, Rimon said coldly.
"A guy who should've bolted long ago is charging at me like he's possessed—what's up with that?"
[You think I'm some coward scared to run from trash like you?]
Insulted, Ryu Gangcheol charged in fury.
Rimon bisected one afterimage from groin to crown and casually asked.
"Really?"
[...]
The retort was so matter-of-fact that Ryu Gangcheol fell silent, launching more afterimages in vain as Rimon drawled lazily.
"You're a coward and a cheat. Tough on the weak, you dodge the strong. You won't risk even a scratch, fighting only with afterimages."
By reading his sword principles and dismantling everything, Rimon knew.
He was a thorough murder-ghost player.
A sadistic psychopath who toyed with the weak like playthings and killed them as cruelly as possible, treating it like a game.
So Rimon could declare it with certainty.
About the abnormality possessing Ryu Gangcheol right now.
[Shut your bullshit! If I was the coward you say, why haven't I run yet?]
"That's what I want to know."
[What?]
"Why aren't you running?"
When his afterimages started vanishing en masse.
From the moment he raised his hands in surrender to buy time, Ryu Gangcheol's instincts must have told him.
He couldn't beat Rimon.
And based on the personality Rimon had gleaned through his sword principles, he should've tucked tail and fled right then.
No gamer stakes their life on an unwinnable game.
"Even after cornering yourself with that hostage stunt, why try to keep me pinned?"
[Because...!]
Ryu Gangcheol shut his mouth mid-retort.
He had answers aplenty.
No time to flee.
Confidence he could win.
Just following orders.
Yet he faltered, unable to settle on one, visibly confused. Rimon asked with an icy expression.
"Are you really fighting of your own will right now?"
[Shut up!]
Rimon didn't need to see to know.
Ryu Gangcheol's face, hidden by the armor, must be twisting hideously.
Whether from hitting the mark or some deeper unease, Rimon couldn't tell—but he didn't care.
Instead, he murmured softly.
"That bastard Park Hyeon-gun was the same."
[...!]
No reply.
Just an involuntary flinch he couldn't hide amid his agitation.
But for Rimon, who'd prodded Ryu Gangcheol with this one question in mind, that was enough.
"Knew you were in on it."
Rimon smirked.
Park Hyeon-gun, once a close aide to Infinite Monarch Lee Cheongi. The one who'd killed Yuna Kyung to cover his crimes and framed Rimon.
He'd suspected it ever since learning Park had set the trap at the Liberation Brigade's base.
That Park and the Brigade were connected somehow.
"No wonder. When pushed to the brink, you offer your body to a constellation like maggot fodder—just like that guy."
And what that connection was? Obvious.
His reactions to the questions so far.
Li Chingwei's hunch.
Above all, Ryu Gangcheol's form—covered in thread-roots like a shroud over seamless armor.
Clearer than any evidence, it screamed one truth.
"In the end, you're just another constellation puppet."
[I said shut up!!!]
Overwhelmed by confusion—or perhaps the writhing thread-roots consuming his body—Ryu Gangcheol bellowed in desperation.
Rimon cleanly felled the charging afterimage and muttered low.
"Yeah. No need for more words between us anyway."
As if he'd heard all he needed.
He nodded once, slowly.
Then, like lightning, he dove into the steel giant's embrace and pierced another afterimage's heart.
"Thrash all you want, you constellation's mongrel. Let's see how great that power is, the kind you traded your filthy soul for."
[You son of a bitch...!]
Ryu Gangcheol gnashed his teeth.
Not just from the humiliation of the insult.
Despite roots proliferating wildly throughout their talk, fewer than fifty afterimages remained.
The pain shooting through the roots each time Rimon sliced one, the power scattering.
Above all, those chilling eyes.
They bred uncontrollable anxiety—and rage, shame at feeling such from mere human trash.
[Fine then. Whether you die or I die, let's end this here!]
That was why.
The roots abandoned stalling, pouring massive power to consolidate.
Rumble rumble rumble!
Scattered roots converged.
Divided bodies merged.
Dozens of armors intertwined.
The already crumbling Black Dragon Construction tower finally collapsed fully from the shockwaves, but the roots didn't care.
They focused solely on fusing countless roots into one.
As the building crumbled to rubble.
As the split roots rejoined.
No more flimsy three-meter scrap heaps remained.
Instead, a majestic giant towered over twenty meters tall, joints formed of writhing roots clad in metallic shell like armor.
And it kept growing as time passed.
This was Colony Proliferation.
The original power of the great star called Infinite Proliferation.
[Kyahahaha! Look at this! Come at us! We're one, one is all—can we lose? Invincible, that's us now!]
Whether from forcibly granting human flesh unbearable power.
Or skimping on fusion to save time, just mashing the afterimages together.
Physically or mentally.
The contractor was more warped than usual.
Given human frailty, it wouldn't last.
But the roots didn't mind.
The end would come soon enough.
If it dragged, the irreparably damaged contractor would just break more.
So the roots leisurely raised a fist.
To flatten the half-ruined building—and squash the clueless human.
"First transforming armor, now full-on fusion. Admirable effort aping those ranger squad shows."
[...!]
But right then.
The roots froze, fist raised.
A voice rang from directly above its head—its twenty-meter-plus giant form.
The murderous intent within shook its core.
"Only idiots in stories wait for villain fusion. Duel's over, moron."
[Kuaaah!]
The roots reacted belatedly.
Pulling back the raised fist to smash Rimon, who'd somehow scaled to its head.
But before the arm moved.
Rimon had already driven his raised sword vertically into the giant's crown.
Like pounding a palace pillar, as the blade cleaved armor and burrowed to the root's end—
True Demon Dragon Slaying Sword
Supreme Technique
"The lion's roar splits heaven and earth"
⟨ Lion's Roar ⟩
The sword roared.
The boundaries of heaven and earth trembled.
The giant, bisected from crown to groin, crumbled to dust.