Chapter 95
Chapter 95
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 95
Chapter Title: Ban Who Cuts the Night (3)
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Boom! A thunderous roar echoed outward. The shockwave alone whipped up a gale that churned the surrounding earth. Ban furrowed his brow.
'Not enough?'
His blade had the edge in weight. But Kshatu's blade hide didn't crumble so easily. His blade, pitifully embedded in the ground, was broken and bent in places here and there, yet most of it remained intact.
"Grraaah... You're strong, human."
Kshatu said, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Until now, he had encountered humans clutching such tiny thorns countless times. And each time, the thrill Kshatu felt was this: why challenge him, wrapped in tens of thousands of thorns, with a mere single one?
Now he thought he knew the answer. The thorns they wielded were all fakes. The real thorn was right here. Kshatu growled, raising his blades like bristling fur.
"Your flesh will taste good."
"Not sure if yours is edible."
Ban replied with a smirk. Facing a beast larger than any bear, covered head to toe in blades, he showed no sign of intimidation.
Even without Kishin, even without a sword that transcended time and space, Kshatu was no match for him.
Ban kept his focus on Kshatu, refusing to give an opening, while naturally scanning the surroundings. His companions were holding up better than expected. Against the robed man raising corpses to fight, Dein's White Flame flowed like waves, preventing them from so much as baring their teeth.
Anya was the same. Each swing of her staff turned the area to ash, as if pillars of White Flame were whipping about. Roksana's spores sprayed out like spiderwebs to counter the White Flame each time, but the best she could do was buy time.
"How can a human possess such power...!"
Amid everyone's valiant efforts, the only evenly matched fight was Hwan's. With each clash of spears, Hwan felt his own skin drying out taut, unable to grasp how to counter.
Siraz looked busy just handling the risen corpses, and Drampo had to conserve energy from the start for spatial jumps whenever needed.
'Need to end this quick.'
He couldn't savor and prolong this battle. Otherwise, Hwan might really get in trouble. And in group fights like this, once the momentum shifted, it was usually impossible to turn back.
"Human. Why are you so strong?"
"Because I trained."
"Strength lies in training?"
Kshatu growled in disbelief.
"Kshatu has met many humans. Met wraiths too. But they were weak. They trained. Yet weak. Why are you different?"
"...Who knows, maybe I trained better?"
"Your words are lies! Human, speak the truth!"
Kshatu rose on his hind legs. Aiming his forepaw at Ban, he assumed a stance like a martial artist.
'A martial artist covered head to toe in blades... Even imagining it sends chills.'
The aura was different from before. Was he finally revealing his true power?
Kshatu charged. From forepaws and hind legs to head and back—every writhing trajectory his body produced carried enough force to pulverize Ban's body if caught.
'Deflection's tricky here.'
Even if he deflected a fist, the shoulder, neck, torso followed in a snaking pursuit, seeking any wound. Among those Ban had faced, this one had the most perverse, bizarre fighting style. If not for the memories he'd read, even with his superior skill, he'd be struggling more than now.
'...But Deflection isn't all I have.'
If he couldn't deflect, he could overwhelm with force.
—Guh... Ban, take it easy!
'Just hang in there a bit.'
So much Qi condensed into the broad dao that even Yuri recoiled in shock. And from that moment, the battle's flow changed dramatically.
"Kergh!"
"Krung!"
"Gaaak..."
Each time Kshatu's blades met Ban's, they crumpled pathetically and were repelled. It felt like slamming into a mountain—not blades at all. Ban's blade refused to yield an inch, and no matter how fiercely Kshatu threw his body, he began to fear he'd shatter alone.
Yes.
He was afraid.
'...Kshatu fears a human?'
Kshatu ground his teeth. Blades near his maw clashed, ringing harshly. It was a foreign emotion. Even against other great nobles of the Abyss, Kshatu had never tasted fear.
"...Just like that one. Human. Your strength."
"That one? Who do you mean?"
"The Master of the Boundary."
Kshatu muttered in a low voice. Unlike when facing Ban, speaking that name carried a subtle reverence.
"The one who ascended beyond our daring gaze."
"...No idea what you're talking about. If you're stalling, that's enough."
"Kshatu doesn't stall for time!"
Kshatu lunged. Battles weren't endless clashes leading blindly to an end. In the end, fleeting moments of shifting tides decided the outcome, making combat one grand calculation.
And Kshatu already knew the result at this calculation's end.
'Death.'
Ban was a death sentence in himself. No chance of victory. His blades, which crushed stone and steel mercilessly, lost their power before Ban.
Could a single sword weigh so much? Kshatu felt the weight of the blade hide draped over him. With every step, those blades pressed down. Even as they pierced and tore his own flesh with each movement, Kshatu took pride in them. Few indeed had dared face his blades head-on.
'...My blades are duller than his. Why?'
He didn't know. To find the answer, Kshatu charged. Terror sought to swallow him, but the more it did, the louder he roared—as if it might banish both fear and its source.
Kshatu's eyes couldn't tear away from Ban's blade. Beyond it, he reflected on his past. In days when he was smaller than a human palm. Seeing a giant with trees sprouting from its back, he grew his own bulk. Witnessing a hedgehog beast bristling with spines, he turned his fur to blades. But now he realized—all those imitations had to end.
"Kr, krooo, krarararara!"
Ban's eyes gleamed coldly. And the next instant, blades erupted from Kshatu's body toward Ban like bursting seeds. Ban silently unleashed Deflection's essence. Centered on his blade's arc, Kshatu's blades whirled viciously into a vortex.
Then shot toward Kshatu.
Kshatu gazed at the blade whirlwind hurtling at his naked body. His blade armor was gone. But he didn't need it. Now he knew something stronger than blade armor.
He could grow stronger.
Kwarung! A brutal sound rang out—like scrap metal being crushed haphazardly. Ban narrowed his eyes, peering ahead. The vortex from his Deflection split and scattered in an instant. Powerless blades rained down everywhere. But not one touched Kshatu's bare flesh.
"Thank you, hu, man."
Crackling sounds emanated from Kshatu's body. With each, his form shrank toward Ban's size. The difference: blades in place of hands. He stared at Ban, dangling those blades limply.
"This 'training' you taught me... I won't forget."
"...Hah, nights are full of monstrous bastards."
Yet why did this feel more amusing than frightening or ominous?
Was he still a child at heart? Or were swordsmen only truly alive in such moments? Ban's lips curved up.
"Learned from me?"
"Kshatu learned. Human strength. And..."
Kshatu lowered into a stance mirroring Ban's.
"Now, I surpass."
Kshatu shot forward. A qualitatively different speed from before. Had compressing his body densified his muscles too? Instead of retreating, Ban drew a short tachi in his other hand and charged to meet him. Kshatu's centipede-like scuttling was more beast than swordsman. But that didn't matter.
'Beast or swordsman, they die the same when cut.'
Blades flashed. Clangs reached the ears only after the next clash echoed, sounds trailing their combat like echoes.
Ban was honestly impressed. For pure instinct-driven movement, it was remarkably solid swordplay. No—perhaps that's why it was so efficient. Blades poured solely to kill. That pure murderous intent was almost admirable.
So, Ban decided to give his best in return.
'...What?'
At some point, Kshatu felt déjà vu. Ban's blade appeared, vanished, reappeared. Not just the blade—very rarely, in split seconds, even Ban's form flickered from sight.
Kshatu's twin blades still couldn't touch Ban's. He could mimic the movements, but not steal the history within. His blades sliced only empty air more and more, while Ban's eyes burned hotter.
'Sword hiding beyond light. And... sword hiding behind time.'
Wilrn's and Ropo's swords. Could he melt those two into one? A question from long ago, now answered. Ban sheathed all his swords at his waist. Kshatu asked with a dumb look.
"...What, human! Why sheathe your sword!"
"The fight's over."
"Not yet. I, Kshatu, still perfectly...!"
"You still don't get it."
Kshatu couldn't comprehend Ban's gaze. Why that pitying look? He was strong. He was Kshatu. Fine. Charge in. Show how sharp his blades could get. Cleave Ban in two and prove his strength.
"Kshatu!"
Kshatu shouted his name and leaped forward.
Or tried to.
Only as he pushed off did Kshatu realize his legs were already severed. Not just legs—the hands gripping blades had fallen, and with them, blades long sliced apart scattered in pieces. Neck severed, waist cut, chest and gut rent.
Kshatu's head rolled across the ground. To the ears of one who never understood his defeat till the end, a quiet voice reached.
"You already lost, Kshatu."