Chapter 149
Chapter 149
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 149
Chapter Title: The Traitor's Desperation
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"Third Young Master, it's dangerous!"
Beskin scooped me up in his arms and swiftly put distance between us as an overwhelming aura emanated from Darkan, who had collapsed moments before.
Shrieeeek!
A pitch-black aura, far more sinister and razor-sharp than anything we'd seen in the fight so far, sliced through the air to disrupt Beskin's movements.
It was a menacing strike that would have severed his leg clean off if he'd taken even one more step.
"You won't escape."
Darkan spoke, his entire body now clad in what looked like jet-black armor, sword and all.
"What the hell?!"
Beskin cried out in shock.
Second-stage unlock.
A desperate technique that drew forth even more power than the first stage, which already elevated one's realm by several levels.
That's right.
Not a killing move, but a suicidal one.
The second-stage unlock forced all eight major mana conduits in the body into a frenzy.
In exchange for sacrificing everything, it granted immense power for a fleeting moment—but once that power faded, death was inevitable, even if the Pope himself arrived. A walking bomb.
That's why, throughout the Shield Family's long history, Hexagon knights rarely ever resorted to the second stage.
It wasn't a lack of loyalty. Who would casually use a technique that ended their life? Only in the most dire crises would anyone even consider it.
Never for anything less than defending the kingdom and family against the Holy Empire's invasion.
"...Looks like we're adding a bold new stroke to the family's history today."
It was unprecedented for a Hexagon knight to betray the family, but equally unheard of to unleash the second stage outside a do-or-die battle with the Empire.
I tried to play it off lightly, as if it were absurd, but I could feel cold sweat trickling down my temples.
A once-in-a-lifetime surge of power. Reading about it vaguely in documents was one thing; facing it head-on made the weight of those words hit differently.
"Blabber on all you want."
Darkan wiped the hardened blood clots from his mouth.
His bones and joints should have been shattered all over, yet he looked unscathed.
'No, that's not it.'
He was forcibly binding his broken bones and severed joints with the aura overflowing from his rampaging mana conduits.
Not just a specific area, but his entire body—such a brutish fix.
Without aura so pure it bordered on rotten, no one would dare attempt it.
'The problem is... even if it's temporary, that bastard's aura is overflowing to the point of decay.'
That's how he could pull off something so impossible.
"I have nothing left to lose. Even if I let you Shield Family scum drag me off, only a pathetic end worse than death awaits. In this state, escape is out of the question."
He wasn't wrong. Quite a bit of time had passed since I'd pinned him down.
By now, Father and the Hexagons should've finished stabilizing the gate and begun the pursuit.
"How utterly hollow. To think the grand dream I devoted my youth to would crumble like this."
Darkan gazed bitterly at the overwhelming aura pouring from his body, then turned his head toward me. A razor-sharp killing intent washed over us, slicing at my skin.
Even from this distance, it felt like a blade hovering right at my brow.
"If there's nothing left for me to achieve anyway..."
"Then at least the Third Young Master who ruined everything I've dreamed of... you, I'll tear apart with my own hands."
No earth-shaking roar, no ferocious momentum.
Just one step forward.
With that single stride, Beskin hurled me aside and shouted,
"Third Young Master, run!"
"Urk, Beskin...!!"
My body was already battered, and his sudden toss left me tumbling awkwardly without a proper landing.
Boooom!
A yellowish dust cloud erupted where I'd been, shaking the ground with a thunderous boom.
Rumble rumble rumble!
Inside the cloud, Beskin—bracelets removed to unlock the first stage—knelt with both hands bracing his sword, blocking Darkan's strike.
"Impressive, Beskin. To block my blow even after unlocking the first stage."
Darkan eyed him with genuine surprise.
Hakaren and Beskin were a generation behind Darkan.
Even with equal talent and effort, the wall of time was insurmountable.
Their realms naturally fell a step short.
For Beskin to block his attack anyway—that's what startled him.
Fshk!
"Chasing after the Third Young Master must've given you some small enlightenment along the way. Well done."
Darkan spoke leisurely, but black blood streamed steadily from Beskin's mouth as he knelt.
"Da...rkan, sir. It's not too late. Even now... reclaim your final honor as a Hexagon..."
Beskin spat blood, struggling to speak even as blocking the sword strike taxed him to his limit. A sneer curled on Darkan's lips.
"Honor?"
Bam!
Darkan kicked Beskin's exposed midsection while he strained to hold the sword aloft.
Beskin flew back, smashing through several trees before crashing into the thick base of one.
"...Guhk!"
"Beskin, what honor is there in this land? Holed up in this tiny northern backwater, spending your days anxiously staring at the horizon for any sign of the Empire's attack."
Darkan's gaze shifted to me.
"Knights are just tools in the end. Mere meat shields to buy the nobles time to flee from the Holy Empire's invasion. Isn't that right?"
Darkan addressed me directly.
"If we can't escape a tool's life no matter what, isn't it forgivable to at least choose the place where we're treated best as tools? Right?"
He asked again.
"Decades. I've served loyally as a knight of the Carviot Count family all those years. But this barren land lacked the resources to properly care for its knights like the Sword Family did. A life where I could never rise to the top. Is it wrong to struggle for something better? Right?"
Darkan pressed me for an answer.
"Speak, Third Young Master. Oh, but you wouldn't understand, would you? The chosen one set to inherit it all."
His mocking words came my way.
He wanted confirmation from me. That he wasn't wrong.
That betraying Banten was justified because life here held no meaning.
That he had talent too great to rot in this narrow plot of land.
That his choice was never mistaken.
He craved that affirmation from me—the one presumed to inherit Banten.
Only then could he claim his decision was sound in process and choice, marred only by bad results.
"Bull... fucking... shit."
Of course, striving for a better life wasn't wrong.
And seeking better terms... a mindset most knights couldn't fathom, but I'd lived as a merchant in my past life.
I understood the desire to raise one's value.
But.
Then defect to the Empire outright, honorably.
Why mock and harm the lives of those who'd devoted everything to protecting Banten and the kingdom? What right did he have?
"You're just a coward. Scoffing at the Hexagon title while lacking the guts to cast it aside."
It wasn't a life of anxiously watching for Empire attacks—it was one of safeguarding the nation and its people from the kingdom's greatest foe.
I forced strength into my trembling legs, battered by accumulated shocks, and straightened up.
"No grit to outwork and catch those ahead, either."
Not mere meat shields buying nobles escape time, but proud shields protecting the kingdom's people from merciless assaults.
I pushed through the exhaustion, channeling Earth to reignite my aura.
"You're just third-rate trash, whining to ride the waves and elevate your pathetic life."
This barren land didn't lack resources for knights—it prioritized supplying what was needed to defend the kingdom.
And above all.
"You said I'd inherit it all?"
What we inherited wasn't this scrap of dirt. It was duty, passed down through generations.
The duty to defend this land from today's enemies, ensuring tomorrow's kingdom knew peace.
At least the Shield Family ancestors, Father, Arandal, and the other Hexagons had lived lives of such noble pride.
Not like this rat, devoid of any honor.
"...Shut your mouth."
"'Talent.' Nice word. You know how I was treated just a few years ago, yet you dismiss it all as lack of talent."
"Shut it."
"Your inferiority complex, defeatism, all that pathetic crap bundled up into a betrayal, then dressed up as dreams and ambition. As if. The Hexagon title is wasted on scum like you."
"I said shut up!"
Boooom!
Darkan's sword slashed at me. No—smashed was more like it.
"Urk!"
Unlike with Beskin, this downward press crushed me into the ground.
Even with aura at full throttle alongside my third-stage Heterogenous Power, Iron Organ—which hardened even my organs to steel—the sheer overwhelming volume of his aura shook me to my core.
Iron Organ could steel the internals, strong enough to clash with a top-tier master like the Four Marquises.
Yet Darkan's attack right now was too much to handle.
Makes sense—he'd effortlessly crushed Beskin, who'd felled one of the Twelve Archbishops, Dingo.
'Still, I absolutely can't fall here.'
Since returning to the past, I'd sworn never to yield to these bastards.
The Holy Empire's monstrous Emperor, Ibarella.
The Three Dukes who'd taken Father's life...
Unlike them, Darkan was the one I could never forgive.
Our clashes weren't born of clashing convictions—he moved solely for personal gain.
That's why. I couldn't lose to him. Not him.
The brute force of his aura finally cracked the steel in my arms and legs.
As the wave of aura passed over me, Darkan sneered at my wretched state.
"Hahaha! All that big talk, and it's just empty words in the end. Anyone can yap like a know-it-all."
Darkan gathered his aura again.
"Say it again. Admit you were wrong. That honor and value in Banten is just a fancy mirage. Do that, and for Bacchus's sake—whom I've served all this time—I'll grant you a swift end."
He tempted me.
Just words. He'd die soon anyway; my stubbornness only prolonged my suffering.
'I won't break.'
Ignoring his drivel, I forced my cracked limbs upright.
"Bull... shit. I've told you over and over. You're just a pathetic loser drowning in inferiority."
His face twisted satisfyingly at my sharp retort. Seeing it eased the grudge carried from my past life.
There was something I'd always wanted to say to Darkan upon my return. Before his unlocked power waned, I poured everything into my voice.
"This Banten is too radiantly noble a land for the likes of a lowly worm like you. So get lost."
I sealed my cracked bones and joints with aura, closing the distance in bold strides.
If I thought he'd die soon, keeping distance would be wisest.
But no.
Against him especially, I'd face him head-on, prouder than anyone. In a way befitting a direct descendant of the Shield Family.
"You damned trash!"
Darkan swung at me repeatedly, his face twisted like a demon's.
Overwhelming might.
It evoked Minerva's arrows from years ago in the beast forest.
Not a slash, but a smash meant to pulverize.
'Parry and deflect... too wide and heavy.'
The swing's range was too broad, the weight immense.
Pankration's Four Taels Against a Thousand Catties claimed four taels could move a thousand—but mine fell short of four, while his far exceeded a thousand.
'Then... endure it is.'
My Heterogenous Power, Steel, wasn't for deflection to begin with.
A power embodying unyielding will, never to break in any circumstance.
Even if this blow shattered every bone, I'd withstand it.
Just before Darkan's sword met mine.
Shaaaa...
The pitch-black aura that had devoured even the surroundings began to fade, like darkness yielding to light.
"Magnificent, Third Young Master."
A voice light and playful.
Not Father's reassuring back, visible from afar, but a short one barely reaching my shoulders.
Yet bearing a massive shield that contradicted its size.
The leader of the Six Shields, the Shield Family's strongest knight.
Arandal had arrived.
"...Is it trendy these days to show up fashionably late when we're about to die...?"
It hurts like hell, so if you're here, jump in already. Please.