Chapter 368
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 368
Chapter Title: You've Got Your Resolve, Haven't You?
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'Insolent little brat.'
The moment he heard Rimon's declaration that he would kill him.
Branga didn't feel anger so much as ridicule.
'He's still so green.'
Even relentlessly pressing the attack during the moment he'd been caught off guard wouldn't have been enough.
Sneering at Rimon's foolishness in getting cocky after landing just one hit, giving him the leisure to coolly respond while tending to Hasneti and Rose.
Branga thought to himself.
This time, I'll make sure to kill Rimon for good.
'Perfect. I never intended to let my first wife's lowly concubine live anyway.'
Of course, he'd lost a thousand summons and nearly had his throat slit, showing a bit of ugliness against Rimon.
But that was ultimately due to his own carelessness.
If he went all out, there was no way a mere 'human' could stand against him.
Branga had no doubt of that, and so he could grin triumphantly even as he watched Rimon swing his sword.
Slash! Thud, crunch!
"What're ya doin'! He's right behind ya! Grab him quick!"
But in this moment.
There was no trace of a smile on Branga's face.
Instead, it was filled with anxiety, bafflement, rage, and frustration.
He hadn't let his guard down.
He'd gathered his summons into a defensive formation.
Boosted all his abilities with skills.
Detected movements with sensory-type summons.
Sprayed wide-area slime, webs, and mist to hinder mobility.
This time, he was truly fighting Rimon with everything he had.
Commanding thousands of summons like limbs, maximizing their traits—Branga's leadership was truly befitting of the Summon Lord.
The problem was just one thing.
Even so, he couldn't catch Rimon.
'What the hell is this kid?'
Branga ground his teeth.
Ten summons? Sliced in a flash.
A hundred? He slips away slyly.
Order a pincer attack, and he picks them off one by one; encircle him, and he breaks through before the net closes, striking from behind.
Even in mobile warfare, he anticipates and charges ahead; try a ranged assault, and he uses other summons as shields to dodge.
No command worked.
No, it went beyond that—the more orders he gave, the worse the situation felt.
What infuriated him most was that this wasn't the first time he'd felt this way.
'Come to think of it, it was the same with Senet.'
Recalling how Rimon had thoroughly exploited his weaknesses no matter what he aimed for or commanded, as if reading his mind.
Branga's face twisted.
'Precognition? Or actual mind-reading?'
If he had such an ability, it would explain how Rimon had beaten him as Senet.
The problem was, even accounting for that, Rimon's movements now made no sense.
Unlike Senet, which was just a game, real combat was a gamble dancing on the edge of life and death amid countless variables.
Whether seeing the future.
Or reading minds.
Perfectly countering every variable was nearly impossible.
But what about those movements?
He wasn't just reading Branga's commands.
He pierced the blind spots of all those summons with exquisite precision.
A mere step or shoulder twitch turns another summon into a shield and topples it.
That wasn't something you could mimic just by knowing it.
It was the natural movement of a battle-hardened veteran who'd charged into enemy lines thousands of times, breathing it like air.
Of course, any human trying that a few times would be dead, making it utterly impossible for them.
So how could this kid do it?
It was truly baffling.
And what drove Branga insane wasn't just that.
Thud, thud, thud!
"You think that kind of ambush will work multiple times... Gah!"
"It works multiple times."
"Grrrraaah!!!"
The instant Rimon took three steps forward.
Branga, bisected from crown to groin and swapped with a summon, gnashed his teeth.
This wasn't the first time.
Heart stabbed.
Body shredded into thirty pieces.
Skull smashed with the flat of the blade.
He'd nearly died to Rimon in every way imaginable, the count already beyond fingers on one hand.
Of course, Branga had done his utmost: strong summons to guard him, quick position swaps, crippling his steps.
Futile struggles.
No matter the interference, Rimon took his three steps.
And after those three steps, no defense could stop his sword.
'Damn it, why doesn't this kid ever tire?'
Branga felt anxiety creeping in.
He could substitute summons for death, while Rimon fought unscathed against them.
Their battle seemed evenly matched at a glance.
But Branga knew.
He was the one at a disadvantage.
His summons were countless, but not infinite.
Rimon, like he had infinite stamina, had felled over a thousand without a hint of fatigue.
If this dragged on, he'd inevitably lose as his numbers dwindled.
Of course, Branga had an ace up his sleeve, but unease gnawed at him like poison.
As if even that ace might fail against Rimon.
'...Fear?'
That moment.
Branga's eyes widened.
'Me, blessed by the stars? Of a mere human?'
Surge of humiliation and shame.
Feeling fear toward a toy he'd thought he could toy with at will ignited uncontainable rage.
That was why.
Branga seized the summon beside him.
Crunch!
In that instant.
The summon's body warped.
Twisted, compressed, condensed.
Ultimately spiraling into a thin rod from crown to toe.
It was 【Gungnir】.
His trump card, created to overcome the summoner's lack of combat prowess.
A one-use strike that had felled even Hasneti and Rose.
But he hesitated to throw the spear.
Even this living, self-tracking Gungnir—he lacked confidence it would hit the cunning, agile Rimon.
Pondering how to land this blow on Rimon.
Branga's eyes flashed.
And suddenly, he hurled 【Gungnir】 with all his might.
Not at Rimon.
If anything, the opposite direction.
Toward the one place Rimon had avoided amid the monster horde: the wounded Rose and Hasneti.
And what followed was as planned.
Rimon halted his rampage through the summons and appeared to guard the two princesses.
'Stupid fool!'
Boom!
The moment Branga sneered and clenched his fist.
The 【Gungnir】 Rimon was about to cleave exploded, spewing scorching flames.
That was 【Gungnir】's true power.
Amplifying a summon's abilities hundreds of times into a single strike.
Even a level 70s summon had critically wounded Hasneti because of it.
This one was level 90s.
A killing blow that could instant-kill even a lord on hit.
No matter Rimon's skill, he'd die this time.
Branga had no doubt.
And so, the next moment.
His eyes bulged.
『Demon-Slaying Dragon Sword Dance』
『斬魔龍殺劍 劍舞』
"France's flowers bloom in wild disarray."
『法國花開得亂七八糟』
⟨ Sword Dance ⟩
Swish.
Flower petals swirled in the air.
No, not flowers—flames scattering.
With each light step of the shirtless youth, explosions subsided.
With each soft curve traced by the sword in his hand, the spreading flames trailed the blade's edge.
It was less swordsmanship than a dance.
Softer than fierce.
More graceful than swift.
Flashy yet serene.
Movements devoid of efficiency, seemingly made solely for show.
Thus, the inferno that could melt iron wilted at the blade's tip, scattering like petals—a sight all the more wondrous.
The youth wielding his sword amid whirling flames was as enchantingly beautiful as a dancing nymph.
Rose and Hasneti.
Branga, who had thrown the spear.
Even the mere monsters.
Forgot they were in battle, staring blankly.
And so, as all flames finally died.
As darkness returned like a curtain falling on a stage.
Rimon stepped lightly forward.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
When Branga snapped out of his daze and realized the youth was right before him.
He was already sliced.
Slash!
Rent flesh.
Spraying blood.
A scene repeated countless times.
But this time, two crucial differences from before.
One: Rimon hadn't severed Branga's throat, head, heart, or torso.
And the other...
"Gaaaaah!"
...Branga, who had endured any fatal wound until now, couldn't swap with a summon this time.
The pain must have been excruciating.
Seeing him scream with his left arm—severed by Hasneti before—now joined by his right, Rimon nodded.
"Indeed, the trick is to cut just enough not to kill."
It only triggered to avoid death.
Not for minor injuries.
Realizing the loophole in 『Gate of Life』, Rimon nodded.
Branga's face contorted.
He knew what came next.
And Rimon's following words confirmed his despair.
"I was hoping to end this cleanly..., but looks like that's not happening."
Like sizing up livestock for slaughter, gauging the cuts of meat.
Rimon scanned Branga up and down, shrugged, and continued.
"Well, you should die within a hundred pieces or so, so rest easy."
No plans for a thousand cuts and ten thousand shreds.
Branga trembled at Rimon's utterly un-reassuring words, blurting out in panic.
"W-Wait! Aren't you forgetting something?!"
"Forgetting? What?"
"It's not just Her Majesty the Queen and the Countess here! If I wanted, those things are done for!"
"Oh, them?"
As if just remembering the Flame Dragon Corps and Spear Dragon Corps separated with the princesses.
Rimon nodded.
And said calmly.
"Thanks for the concern, but no need."
"What're you talking about?"
"Reinforcements already went to them."
"What?"
"And mister."
Crunch!
Stunned by the unexpected words.
Branga's eyes bulged as Rimon stomped his leg, shattering it.
Madly charging summons cleaved with casual swings of his one-handed sword.
Grabbing his hair, forcing eye contact.
Rimon smiled brightly.
"Since you tried the hostage play against me, I guess you're prepared for about a thousand pieces?"