Chapter 371
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 371
Chapter Title: Picked the Wrong Place
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Shwaaak!
As if to blanket the entire plain.
Black sludge scattered in every direction.
Too viscous to be mere digestive fluid, too foul to be blood—it melted everything in its path, carving sinkholes into the earth.
But that was all.
Rimon dodged even the downpour of sludge with indifference, charging atop the Devourer.
Enraged by his insolence as he ran across its body, perhaps.
Even though the Devourer was already split in half, it twisted its form without a care, its hide writhing the moment it stirred.
Pababababa!
The sticky epidermis burst open.
Tens of thousands of rope-like tendrils erupted from the Devourer's body, engulfing Rimon.
They were a cluster of tentacles, each tipped with a grotesque maw like a lamprey's.
A spiderweb of tens of thousands that could reduce iron to scrap in an instant once it latched on.
Sek!
Yet not a single one among the tens of thousands touched Rimon's body.
He had evaded the rain of sludge while slicing the tentacles, and this time, he cleaved the Devourer's torso horizontally instead of vertically.
Kugugugu!
Cut into quarters now.
Yet it thrashed about as vigorously as ever.
And Rimon danced amid the flood of tentacles and sludge, carving up the massive body.
From the distant edge of the plain, Hasneti watched the superhuman battle, flicking away her cigarette as she suddenly asked,
"What do you think?"
"No army could handle that beast."
"The same goes for the strike force."
"Yes. At minimum, you'd need a division-level master just to get close."
Rose stated her opinion calmly.
It might look one-sided now, like it was being butchered effortlessly, but that was only possible because the opponent was Rimon.
From its earthquake-inducing movements alone, to tentacles even high-level players struggled against one-on-one, plus the black fluids that dissolved anything they touched.
The Devourer was a living mass of peril—a natural counter to armies.
It wouldn't die no matter how much you cut it, and it regenerated by devouring the earth, making it especially troublesome.
"Even among us, only you, Hasneti, Charlotte, or Ekaterina could handle it solo without transforming."
"You or Maia wouldn't lose either."
"But winning would be tough."
Rose gave a wry smile.
She had beaten Hasneti once, but she lacked the firepower to sweep away a colossal monster like the Devourer in one go.
Maia, excelling in poison and external arts, would struggle to kill it in a single strike too.
And against a Devourer that only grew stronger the more it devoured, a prolonged fight meant victory slipped away.
"Now I see why only Absolute-class can face a Devourer."
"Records even say spirit speakers and saints have been devoured by them."
Regardless of affinities with psionics or the seventy-two martial styles, the Seven Dragon Society's princesses were superhumans rivaling monarchs even in peacetime.
If even they struggled, it made sense why the Seven Dragon Society's scriptures called the Devourer a beast of calamity.
Even Gula, the monster lord turned colossal in Brazil, might have ended up as mere fodder against it.
"Doesn't matter. The outcome's decided."
"True enough."
Yet the two women's eyes held no trace of anxiety as they watched the Devourer.
Only unwavering trust.
If the Devourer was an ancient disaster beast from antiquity, then its current foe was Rimon Asfelder.
From the seven dragons to demon gods, and even the Seven Dragon Society.
Humanity's Last Sword Master, who had guarded the world for centuries against foes beyond compare to mere beasts.
"...Would it be strange if I worried about him anyway?"
"You doubt him?"
"Trusting him and hoping he stays safe are different things."
"Ridiculous worry."
Even as Hasneti snorted coldly, Rose didn't lose her composure.
She simply continued, gazing toward the distant plain.
"Above all, the Summon Lord bothers me."
"What's he got to do with anything?"
"Hasneti, didn't you feel something off about him too?"
Rose murmured softly.
Even she, who knew little of Branga, could tell something had changed about him.
More than anything, the uncanny sense of a non-human wearing human skin, mimicking humanity—it put her on edge.
Regardless of power levels.
Irrespective of hostility or temperament.
Branga exuded an inexplicable ominousness now.
But Hasneti, who had long sensed it by calling him 'that thing,' brushed off Rose's observation coldly.
"Doesn't matter. The more tricks the Summon Lord pulls, the better."
"What do you mean?"
"Just watch."
She'd understand then, she said.
Rose turned her head following Hasneti's gaze, her eyes widening soon after.
She finally realized.
What Hasneti was seeing.
And why it didn't matter.
"See it?"
Gazing at Rimon fiercely swinging his sword against the Devourer unleashing floods of fluids and tentacles.
Her ever-cold face.
Bearing a faint smile.
Laden with irrepressible emotion.
Hasneti murmured softly.
"—He's smiling."
Shwaak!
The moment he sliced through the tentacles.
He twisted his body to evade the spraying fluids.
Brushing past his tilted ear, slipping under his lightly sliding foot, grazing between his slightly parted armpit.
Each near-miss of the black sludge sent chills racing up his spine, confirming it.
This wasn't mere poison—it was closer to lava, capable of melting even his body, honed to immunity against all toxins.
Yet there was no fear.
If anything, the opposite.
His heart throbbed.
His blood surged.
His nerves sharpened.
A slow, gradual, but certain change.
Chaeng!
An enemy he could swing at freely.
The thrill of dancing on the edge of life and death.
Above all, the vivid feedback from his sword.
In his excessively long life, it rekindled the sensation of being alive, invigorating his rusty body.
To the point where a smile unconsciously tugged at his lips.
'Still.'
His reason warned him.
Enjoying this situation wasn't sane—foolish at best.
But his instincts retorted.
What did it matter?
As a swordsman who only felt fulfillment when wielding his blade, it filled him to the brim.
'More.'
Yet it still wasn't enough.
A demon god would have obliterated the entire plain, leaving no room to dodge.
A Seven Dragon Society princess would exploit gaps with dazzling martial arts.
This one just wouldn't die easily.
No matter the hundreds of thousands of tentacles it lashed out with, the Devourer's beastly, instinct-driven attacks were too simple and predictable.
Thus, he wished.
For the beast to thrash harder.
To let him unleash even a bit more of his full power.
Kugugugu!
"Hm?"
Did his wish reach it?
Or did it realize it had no chance like this?
The moment the Devourer—now split into over twenty writhing pieces—suddenly halted.
A hole tore open in the sky.
Black sludge poured out.
And with the pitch black, two enormous shadows plummeted to the earth.
Kuung, kuwoong!
The ground shook violently.
And slowly, two forms rose.
"...Now that's a sight."
Not as vast as the plain-swallowing first Devourer, but each over hundreds of meters—the two new ones.
Plus the regenerating first.
Rimon let out a hollow laugh at the trio of Devourers.
It was a first even for him: three near-Absolute-class beasts gathered like this.
And that wasn't all.
Gulp, gulp.
It had already spat out two.
Yet the hole gaped wide still, spewing more black sludge, as if unsatisfied.
Beyond it, a presence sharpened—not yet emerged, yet already eroding his mind—twisting Rimon's lips.
'So the Devourers were just buying time, after all?'
Having fought two monarchs, Rimon could tell.
That thing wasn't something Branga could summon alone.
Even the three Devourers were mere beasts compared to it.
Thus, he intuited.
Once it emerged, the battle would be incomparably fiercer.
The premonition was vivid as prophecy.
Just imagining it filled him with anticipation.
He thought idly.
Maybe it'd be fine to wait for it, fight fair and square.
But...
Rimon glanced back slightly.
Surveying the plain reduced to wasteland by the Devourer's sludge, he chuckled.
'I've still got a long way to grow up.'
Pajing.
Crossing space to escape the Devourer's attack range, Rimon released his constellation-powered transformation.
His body expanded, limbs lengthened.
Returning to his most familiar state—the perfect physique of a Sword Master—Rimon focused his senses.
On the presence hidden within the first Devourer.
Thanks to carving through its body countless times, he pinpointed the culprit behind it all.
Finding it wasn't enough.
A direct kill shot, and it'd swap with a summon and flee.
Chipping away bit by bit, and that hole in the sky would birth it first.
No good options either way.
But instead of despair, Rimon raised his sword into stance.
"Hated to use this if I could help it..."
Sarak.
One foot forward.
Body tilted.
Right hand gripping the sword pulled back.
Empty left hand extended ahead, supporting the blade.
A bizarre pose—like thrusting a spear, yet akin to aiming a bow or gun.
In that instant, an eerie aura began to frost the air around Rimon.
"Consider it an honor."
It wasn't killing intent.
Not fighting spirit either.
If anything, ghostly qi.
The chilling energy of graveyards, abandoned ruins, or battlefields seeped into his sword.
The air grew cold.
The wind stilled.
And Rimon murmured lowly.
"You're the first since my fight with the demon god to make me use this properly."
Kugugugu!
Sensing the ominous aura, perhaps.
Or recognizing Rimon.
The first Devourer, huddled beneath the hole, suddenly turned and fled from him madly.
Ududuk!
And not just that.
The two fresh Devourers twisted their colossal bodies, merging.
【Gungnir】
Branga's secret art compresses summons for immense destructive power.
Sacrificing Absolute-class Devourers for one strike—utter madness.
But thus, the calamity spear forged from them hurtled toward Rimon, brimming with catastrophic might.
Its power was world-shaking.
The mere shockwave overturned earth and rent the air.
Yet Rimon ignored the spear.
He just kicked off lightly.
And the moment his thrusting form vanished like mist.
Pang!
The spear from two Devourers halted.
Rimon had blitzed like lightning, his sword tip clashing head-on with 【Gungnir】's point.
Thrusting a slender blade straight into the tower-like spearhead—even in compressed form—it looked like mantis versus cart.
But then.
The spearhead crumpled.
No matter how tightly packed, a straw spear couldn't snap an iron blade.
Even 【Gungnir】, amplified from two Devourers, couldn't withstand Rimon's sword.
Tat, tat, tat.
That was just the start.
Like a skipping stone.
Rimon surged on past the crushed spear.
Each light touch of foot to ground accelerated him further, leaving only a long afterimage.
As if he himself had become a spear.
Kwaaaaang!
As if to block his charge.
The overflowing black sludge surged upward, encircling the hole in a sphere.
Infused with the power of the 'something' trying to emerge, it hardened instantly into metallic perfection—an ironclad fortress.
Tough enough to withstand several 【Gungnir】 blasts.
"Don't know where you're from, but..."
Still, Rimon didn't stop.
He charged faster than his own voice, thrusting his sword into the pitch-black barrier.
"You picked the wrong place to come play."
When debating history's worst Sword Master.
People always named the massacre-loving Sword Demon first, then the Sword Emperor who sparked world war.
But Rimon knew better.
It was a misconception.
There had been a Sword Master who committed atrocities far more horrific, even if not killing as many.
A genius in thrusts who took up the spear on his master's advice.
A superhuman who reached unparalleled heights in piercing alone.
But corrupted by madness.
Dabbling in black magic, until.
He pierced what should never be pierced.
Reviled as Dracula for his heinous deeds.
The sinful Sword Master, Sword Ghost Vlad Tepes.
In that instant, his cursed thrust—piercing space and shattering souls—was imperfectly recreated.
『Piercing Demon Dragon Slayer Sword: Forbidden』
斬魔龍殺劍 禁斷
"Even gods cannot escape death."
⟨ Cham Mayong Sals geom: Geumdan ⟩
The pitch-black barrier shattered.
The 'something' about to burst forth exploded with the hole.
And the last fleeing Devourer—right in that line—vanished entirely with the backdrop.
That marked the end of the disaster beast Devourer, unseen for centuries.
The great war that plunged Africa into chaos concluded.
And...
...in the heart of Kilimanjaro, a massive tunnel pierced straight through the mountain.