Chapter 228
Chapter 228
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 228
Chapter Title: The Holy Knight's Blade
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Shwick! Shwick! Shwick!
A flawless famed sword sliced gracefully toward my throat. It was light and sharp.
How many years of relentless honing must one endure to forge such swordsmanship?
No, it wasn't merely a matter of time. An ordinary person, born on this continent and striving until their dying breath, returning to dust, could never reach it.
Yes. This swordsmanship was on that sublime level. Even someone ignorant of the blade could sense it.
I gazed at the knight wielding the sword. He was young. Not even many wrinkles etched his face from the passage of years.
Reaching a transcendent realm that most never attain even at death's door—at such a tender age—was beyond mere effort.
Yes. The world calls such people geniuses.
'But.'
Shwick!
The blade pierced Mimi and Nene's ironclad defense, grazing the tip of my nose. Skin split, and blood spurted out.
"For a heretic, you're not bad."
Whoosh!
The knight flung the blood from his blade onto the ground as he spoke.
"Didn't you say earlier you don't spill blood lightly?"
"Ah, you're exceptions."
A venomous smile curled on the knight Judah's lips.
"Blood belongs to the Lord's creations. But you heretics worship your own shallow power from mere creatures, not the Lord. This filthy blood, defiling as it touches the body, is blasphemy reaching the heavens."
Judah gazed piously skyward. To an onlooker unfamiliar with him, his devout expression might prompt them to straighten their clothes instinctively.
But Saladin merely snorted at the sight.
"Bullshit. A butcher dog infamous for slaughtering folks like chopping meat, and he makes that face."
Saladin had admired Judah's sublime sword realm, but that was all.
The thick stench of blood and murderous intent emanating from the blade was unbelievable for a devout holy knight. To Saladin, Judah's sword wasn't that of a genius.
It was the sword of a butcher, swung with inhuman cruelty beyond his brilliant talent.
That's why Saladin could barely evade Judah's ferocious strikes.
The intense killing intent rising from the entire blade betrayed its trajectory in advance.
Judah didn't even bother concealing it, brimming with pride in his sword.
"Oh? You feel it? This sword? Wow, you're a real heretic."
Despite the insult, Judah's smile deepened.
"This prey... no, this lamb will be fun to enlighten."
"Your true colors are showing, you bastard."
Judah closed the brief distance with a cruel grin.
"Captain of the Holy Empire's 3rd Holy Knight Order, Judah. For attempting to douse the Empire's ceremony in cold water, repay with death."
"Just nicking my nose tip and acting tough."
Clack!
As Saladin's hands crossed, Mimi and Nene assumed combat stances, blocking before him.
"Actually, perfect. With the 3rd Holy Knight Order, I can charge Jerome double the adamantium."
Blood still trickled from his nose tip, but both Judah and Saladin knew.
Such a superficial scratch wouldn't sway this battle's outcome.
Smack!
As Saladin's puppets closed to a certain distance.
Shwick!
With Saladin's arms spread wide, Mimi sprang into motion.
Whirr!
Mimi closed on Judah in an instant, whipping her palm like a storm.
Her once-empty palm now sprouted razor-sharp daggers at the tips, targeting Judah's vitals.
But Judah effortlessly dodged Mimi's flashy assault.
No, he didn't even glance at her. His eyes fixed solely on Saladin.
"Called arrogant for your 'Puppet Master' moniker? Just this puppet show? Disappointing."
It was true. No matter how fast or precise, attacks controlled by reason, not human instinct, muscle, or feral fighting spirit, had limits.
Saladin wielded Mimi and Nene with such finesse that the gap between instinct and reason was negligible.
Yet to one like Judah, forged in the heights through rigorous training, that split-second was an eternity.
In short, no matter how masterfully Saladin controlled them, they couldn't touch him.
'...I can read that thought plain as day.'
Saladin smirked at Judah's smug grin.
Was Judah the first to think that?
Among them, only one never dropped his guard till the end.
Jerome.
Clack!
As Saladin's fingers danced like playing music, Mimi leaped high, unleashing a powerful kick at Judah's face.
"Nope."
Judah leisurely bent backward, evading the kick.
Clunk!
From Mimi's calf emerged three curved blades like beast claws.
"!"
Judah's eyes widened.
No one could dodge blades popping suddenly without warning killing intent.
Scraaaape!
"Guh!"
The rough curved blades tore into Judah's armor and gouged flesh from his chest.
Whirr!
Mimi landed and swiftly returned to Saladin's side.
Blood dripped from Mimi's calf—Judah's blood.
"How's that? Stings, right?"
Saladin taunted Judah, clutching his chest.
"As you said, it's a puppet. Modeled after the human body. But not quite the same."
Smirk!
"Dance with my puppets to your heart's content. I've got plenty more surprises hidden for you. Enjoy at your leisure."
Saladin moved his hands again, and now Nene joined Mimi in charging Judah.
"...Interesting."
Judah removed his hand from his chest, calmly assuming stance against the approaching pair.
His chest wound no longer bled. The Empire's unique holy power-infused aura had mended it.
"I'll pickle you and offer you at the Lord's altar."
Madness surged deeper in Judah's eyes.
The continent was a vast space teeming with countless lives.
Even sharing the same "today," some places raged in life-or-death struggles.
Others felt boredom in unchanging routines.
At the continent's southern edge, Martel, master of the archipelago's intelligence guild overseeing island intel, felt just that.
After visiting the Neptune Pirates' base in Ikenia's southwest, tedium had gripped her.
"The Gadric Pirates, led by East Spirit..."
"Fran Kingdom..."
"New lord in Olivia..."
Informations poured like crowd murmurs.
Martel lounged bored in her chair, yet missed not a word from her agents reciting seagull-delivered intel.
"Suspected Neptune Pirates in Sharon Kingdom's Mercado..."
Finally, the long-awaited intel reached her ears.
"Halt."
Snap!
At Martel's quiet word, every agent sorting the flood of info froze.
"You there, and you. That last bit, here."
"Yes!"
The pointed agents hurried forward with their papers.
Swish!
Martel's lips twitched reading swiftly.
The agents' eyes bulged.
Longtime guild veterans rarely saw Martel smile.
And when she did, the archipelago quaked—without fail.
"...Ah, so that's it. No wonder the news was late."
Post-Neptune disappearance, she'd scoured southern spies for traces.
Yet none found—baffling.
Now she understood why.
"Jerome von Carviot..."
Neptune Pirates surfaced as slaves in Sharon Kingdom.
They'd popped up at the teleportation circle beside Sharon's royal Azanta Palace.
Traced back: origin Olivia.
"Coincidence?"
Olivia made sense. The sole southern land her spies couldn't infiltrate.
'He' held it.
He tolerated raids but never spies.
'Don't plant eyes where I live.'
Prods to provoke him yielded only turtle-like withdrawals, biding time.
She'd sensed winds stirring when rising hero Jerome von Carviot took Olivia's lordship.
But annihilating Neptune pre-appointment? Unforeseen.
"Hmm..."
Rustle!
Finished reading, Martel closed her eyes, drumming fingers on the desk.
Tap. Tap!
How long till the vast guild echoed only her taps?
Snap!
Fingers stopped; eyes opened.
"Looks like I need to report to the 'King.'"
"...!!"
"Now. Prepare."
"Understood!"
South commander Martel reporting personally to the archipelago king.
Unprecedented since 'he' fell—guild buzzed.
Roooar! Crash!
Vast seas surged with sky-high waves.
Eerie. Stormy nights explained house-sized swells.
But skies clear, sun blazing bright.
Only waves rampaged wildly.
How many more surges?
Waves calmed, revealing a middle-aged man.
A greatsword dwarfing torsos. Bare upper body scarred extensively, all faded old.
Sun-bronzed skin over flawless muscles bespoke relentless training.
Bald head, golden earrings amplified his fierce visage.
"Hoo..."
Ocean-mimicking aura swirled his greatsword.
Sheathed on shoulder, he regulated breath.
The watching woman approached, bowing. Mermaid-like blue hair.
"Well done, my King."
Jingle!
Man turned; earrings chimed.
"What, Martel? Long time."
Yes.
This man: the 'King' who unified southern sea beasts, claimant to one of the continent's absolute thrones.
Pirate King Ballack.
His name.
"Rare. You reporting personally means something big on the continent."
"Yes, regarding Ikenia southwest..."
"Stop."
Jingle!
Ballack shook head as Martel began.
"Just finished training. You know what I do then."
"..."
Martel bowed silently, face subtly frowning.
"...Apologies. Judged urgent, overlooked your schedule."
Snort!
Ballack saw through her.
"If displeased, challenge anytime. Archipelago rule."
"No, how could I. I'll return later. Apologies, my King."
Martel's fist clenched till Ballack's presence fully faded.
...May this change's wind upheave these seas.