Chapter 427
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 427
Chapter Title: The Craziest Thing in the World
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Sergei Vladinov.
The leader who had commanded the revolutionary army.
For the past ten years, the one thing he'd thrown himself into most wholeheartedly was finding a way to kill Yekateriche.
The only path to overcoming the overwhelming disparity in military strength against the Russian forces and succeeding in the revolution was to eliminate her.
Yet to kill her, an Absolute-class transcendent, required power enough to topple nations.
In pursuit of an answer to that contradiction, he'd spared no effort.
Scouring the history of the entire world.
Examining records and documents.
Even the most outlandish legends and rumors—he'd dug through them all, verifying their truth.
It was thanks to that he'd taken notice of Rimon.
For over hundreds of years, the only transcendents capable of slaying a princess of the Seven Dragon Society had been the Sword Duke and the Sword Demon.
But even that wasn't enough.
Not only had years of effort failed to even make contact with Rimon,
he had to prepare for the possibility that history had exaggerated things, that Rimon's abilities might fall short, or that he might refuse to cooperate.
Thus, after continued investigation,
he'd finally found it.
The trump card that could absolutely kill Yekateriche.
The legacy of the Dark Dawn, a secret society that had once rivaled the Seven Dragon Society in infamy.
It demanded an enormous price, so it couldn't be used lightly, but his conversation with Yekateriche had given him conviction.
His revolution might fail,
but Yekateriche had to die.
As long as she lived, true freedom and equality would never come to this country.
The moment he drew a small box from his pocket,
thud.
A streak of light flashed by,
the small box fell,
and a fountain of blood erupted from his wrist.
"Asking me to die... Impressive. As expected of the revolutionary leader—you've got to show that much resolve."
The girl who had approached leisurely with time frozen the instant Sergei moved, slicing his wrist with a dagger drawn from her bosom.
Yekateriche perched on the edge of the table.
Twirling the bloodied dagger on her finger, she stomped down on the shoulder of Sergei, who had collapsed clutching his wrist.
"But, Secretary-General, if you're going to try, you need to do better."
"......"
"You drag out the conversation pretending to want to talk, then go straight for the kill at the end. Makes me feel like an idiot for building up expectations."
"......You noticed."
"Of course. How many times have I nearly been assassinated?"
"......"
"Especially when you're leaking that much killing intent—who wouldn't notice?"
Yekateriche giggled.
Setting down the pistol had been a ploy to lower his guard.
She'd long since realized Sergei had other means prepared.
"If you knew, why didn't you kill me?"
"Come on, don't ask the obvious. Killing you at the negotiation table would put me in a tough spot."
She teased that he'd deliberately chosen this moment for the assassination, betting on that very point.
If she could kill him, great jackpot.
But if Sergei died, it'd make it hard for her to gain support from the revolutionary government and New Revolutionary Army going forward.
Watching her, who clearly planned to toy with the Soviet Union indefinitely, Sergei spoke lowly.
"You're confident I have no way to kill you."
"Honestly? Yeah."
With profound regret,
yet without a shred of hesitation.
Yekateriche nodded.
"Even if you brought in hordes of monarchs, I wouldn't worry a bit."
It was no exaggeration.
Wielding the power of time,
faster even than a Sword Master,
the Silver Dragon Princess who could withdraw after clashing evenly with the Sword Queen.
Especially one as exceptional as her among past Silver Dragon Princesses—killing her would be difficult even for several Absolute-class transcendents.
The sole exception: one person.
Rimon, the natural enemy of the Seven Dragon Society.
And with the failure to enlist Rimon, Sergei had no way left to kill her.
Not arrogance, but the most objective and cold judgment—Yekateriche was certain of it.
And Sergei agreed.
"Indeed, barring the Sword Duke, no human in the world poses a threat to you."
...Adding one premise.
"If we're talking humans."
That instant.
Yekateriche moved reflexively.
It wasn't just due to Sergei's strangely calm demeanor despite his wrist half-severed and blood pouring out.
The bizarre sensation from the foot pinning him down—like stepping into a swamp of gas on the verge of explosion.
The loathsome feeling she'd never sensed before,
and above all, the instincts inherited with the dragon's pure blood overriding rational thought, compelled her to act.
Splat!
Kicking Sergei away,
slicing his carotid artery,
thrusting the blade into his heart.
All those actions in a mere instant.
Truly befitting the fastest princess of the Seven Dragon Society—flawlessly swift and precise, a murder technique that would instant-kill even high-level players without a scream.
"Useless."
"...!"
"My life is no longer mine."
But Sergei didn't die.
Blood gushing from his throat,
heart stopped,
he merely gazed calmly at Yekateriche.
Seeing that, her eyes widening unusually, she maxed out her psyonic power.
His lips moved.
"Atra la Calki, Otra Oum Un oON."
A sinister resonance echoed,
the lid of the rolling box popped open, revealing the blood-red gem inside,
and
BOOOOOM!
Darkness exploded from the gem, swallowing Yekateriche whole.
Springing up!
"Rimon, brother?"
Mid-conversation about the Sword Queen,
Vachmensky panicked at Rimon suddenly standing, toppling his chair backward.
But Rimon didn't look back.
Unlike his usual nonchalant demeanor, his face was rigid, grave, staring fixedly in one direction.
Just a wall there.
No windows or cameras, so no view of the outside from this underground hideout.
Yet his superhuman senses as a Sword Master picked up something even from these deep depths.
'This aura...!'
The more he focused,
the clearer it became.
A familiar sensation impossible to mistake—like being coated head to toe in filth and muck—Rimon gritted his teeth.
He seized Vachmensky by the collar.
"What the hell have you people done!"
"Gah! W-wait. What's this about?"
"What's this about?"
A baffled Vachmensky, utterly confused.
After a hollow chuckle,
Rimon hauled him straight to the rooftop, hurling him down as he growled.
"If you don't know, see for yourself."
"Ugh! See what?!"
Outraged at the rough handling, Vachmensky soon gaped wide-eyed.
For he saw it.
Far beyond the white snowfields.
Where Moscow should be—a pillar of darkness piercing to the heavens.
'What... is that...?'
Like a reverse waterfall,
a erupting volcano,
a desert sandstorm.
Resembling all grand natural phenomena, yet too horrific to compare to anything.
It writhed silently.
Comprehensible yet incomprehensible.
Utterly vile, terrifying, repulsive.
Thus perceived only as darkness, denying the very act of seeing it.
The most imaginable nightmare of darkness spread like plague, staining sky, earth, and all, blackening the world.
"Urk!"
Faced with a sight never seen, heard, or imagined, Vachmensky vomited.
Worms crawling in his brain,
devouring it whole,
then twitching eggs hatching in their place—that horrific sensation forced everything out.
Had he held a blade, he might've cleaved his own skull.
"What... what the hell is that?"
"The most insane thing possible in a world where mad bastards will do anything for their goals."
Rimon's voice held no trace of accusation anymore.
One look at Vachmensky's face—mingled terror and bewilderment—told him he had no connection to 'that'.
Leaving the dazed Vachmensky, Rimon instantly leaped through space.
Or tried to.
Crackle.
His intent to head straight to Moscow foiled, reappearing in place.
"......Space is already sealed, as expected."
Rimon stayed calm.
As if he'd anticipated this.
A light click of the tongue, then he leaped from the rooftop, sprinting toward Moscow.
"Rimon, brother? Rimon!"
Ignoring the calls, vanishing into the blizzard beyond the snowfields.
Vachmensky stared blankly for a moment, then gritted his teeth.
Pulling car keys from his pocket, he dashed down from the roof.
Vroooom!
Meanwhile, Rimon raced across the snowfields.
So fast
his feet barely sank, propelling off the snow with the other in lightning speed.
The wake alone whipped snow into a storm behind him.
But Rimon didn't slow.
His body heating up, muscles taut, full throttle.
Others might not know,
but he did.
This was now a race against time; every second delayed could unleash catastrophe.
'Please... not too late...'
Uncharacteristically anxious,
Rimon kept charging across the snowfields.
Toward the darkness-consumed Moscow, specifically the pillar reaching the heavens.
...Even he couldn't stop the coming disaster if delayed even a little.
Splat!
'I wasn't careless.'
Maxing her psyonic power, racing across the ground like lightning,
she muttered inwardly.
'Guess I have to admit I slipped up.'
Slash!
'...If I'd anticipated even this insane stunt, well, I'd feel a bit wronged, but'
Reflecting that she'd lived too normally to imagine such madness,
the girl—Yekateriche—swung her dagger.
To block the black shadows exploding from the half-collapsed Kremlin Palace.
Per the Moonlight Quick Blade Style, the dagger sliced the shadows like paper.
But only that.
The shadows regrew instantly, spreading everywhere.
To stem their growth, Yekateriche dashed around the Kremlin, swinging ceaselessly.
If she had the Radiant Dragon Corps, maybe,
but alone in her current state, this was her best.
Shadows filling, swelling in the Kremlin.
Yekateriche accelerating time alone, forming encirclement.
Their standoff seemed to hold in parallel.
Stumble.
'Oh, damn.'
Until her psyonic faltered momentarily, slowing her.
Yekateriche hastily readjusted, trying to accelerate time again, but the shadows were already upon her.
The moment the shadow wave sought to engulf her,
a silhouette rose between them.
『Demon Dragon Slaying Sword - Outer Form』
When cleaving the world, no blade is needed.
『Cleave World: No Blade』
KABOOOOOM!
Shadows shredded in an instant,
Kremlin fully crumbling,
the sky-touching darkness split.
How he swung the sword to achieve this.
The night-black sky cleaved, the dark city momentarily bright.
But merely an instant.
As the split pillar mended seamlessly, light vanished; shredded shadows began regenerating.
Yet Yekateriche wasn't disappointed.
Seeing the white-haired man before her, she grinned playfully.
"Your timing's so perfect I'm half in love again. You weren't watching this time too, were you, oppa?"
"You okay, crazy princess?"
"As you see, I'm fine."
"You don't look fine, that's why I asked."
Torn clothes everywhere.
Face drenched in sweat.
Hair and eyes reverted to silver.
Crucially, black, grotesque patterns covering from left arm to neck over her pale skin.
Glancing at Yekateriche—far from fine despite her cheery reply—Rimon spoke lowly.
"You've been afflicted by its curse."
"Oh, this was a curse? Figured it was bad for my skin."
Rimon understood.
Belying her smile, she was enduring horrific pain.
Her sweat included cold sweats from agony.
He'd endured the same curse before.
Thus, Rimon said,
"You held out well alone."
"Huh? Was that a compliment?"
Evidently not expecting praise,
forgot her pain, eyes wide.
To Yekateriche, Rimon turned away.
Chilling gaze on the shadow at the pillar's core, spewing curses, swelling ever larger.
Resembling humans but not,
beasts but not,
living things but not,
objects but not.
Like all, yet not.
Shifting form each glance.
Even in 'cocoon' state, cornering Yekateriche, withstanding his sword.
A mass of malice and curse that once pushed him to death's door.
Rimon opened his mouth in an icy voice.
"—Demon God."