Chapter 250: Shadows Over Dmitry (4)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 250: Shadows Over Dmitry (4)
The memory of the day Kevin went to see Roman Dmitry surfaced in his mind.
"...Someone I can trust needs to remain in Dmitry. Kevin, I have decided that you are the right person for this. If the enemy is plotting something, you are the one who will achieve the best possible outcome on a battlefield without me."
Moved by Roman Dmitry's absolute trust, Kevin abandoned his plans to travel to Valhalla and stayed behind in the Dmitry estate.
From that moment on, he fell into deep contemplation.
Assuming the Kronos Empire launched a direct attack on Dmitry, what was the absolute worst-case scenario he had to prevent for his lord's sake? He could help defend the castle walls, or he could guard the inner castle alongside Fernando. After agonizing over the possibilities, Kevin reached a single conclusion.
‘Siege defense is a domain where specialists like Felix dictate victory or defeat. The worst-case scenario that I must prevent with my own strength is the death of Duke Dmitry during the war. Dmitry is no longer just a mere estate; it has become a nation. The royal bloodline is the most crucial element under any circumstances, and Kronos is highly likely to prioritize the assassination of Duke Dmitry.’
What he could do and what he had to do aligned perfectly.
Kevin made his decision. From the day Roman Dmitry departed, he stood guard outside Duke Dmitry's chambers.
The sun set, and the sun rose.
Even as days bled into a mind-numbingly tedious routine that would have broken an ordinary person, Kevin never left his post. He ate his meals and relieved himself nearby. Some looked at him and asked if he really needed to go that far, but Kevin refused to allow even a single second of vulnerability.
Then came today.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The bells signaling an enemy invasion frantically rang out.
War had erupted outside. The Royal Knights, including Fernando, quickly armed themselves and mobilized, declaring they would block the enemy's intrusion at the inner castle. Chaos reigned. Yet, despite the fierce assault on the walls and the shadows infiltrating the interior, Kevin remained entirely detached from the outside world. He simply prepared for the inevitable.
It was exactly as he had anticipated.
In the distance, a mysterious figure approached.
Slowly walking down from the end of the hallway, the figure spotted Kevin and smirked with an amused expression.
"A youthful but fierce, wildcat-like face. Eyes gleaming with venom, exuding an aura of pure madness. I heard there was someone like this serving under Roman Dmitry. I believe your name is Kevin, is it not?"
At the mere sight of him, Kevin instinctively knew.
He is an opponent I cannot defeat.
This man was more than just a formidable foe. He was an absolute powerhouse—someone Kevin could never defeat, no matter what tricks he employed.
Back when he was an ignorant fool who knew nothing of swordsmanship, he couldn't even properly gauge the disparity in strength between himself and his opponents. But now, he knew exactly how terrifyingly powerful the man before him was. Just looking at him made the hairs all over his body stand on end. Even though he could already picture his own head flying off the moment they exchanged blows, Kevin stood tall, his expression fierce as he drew his sword.
He could not retreat.
Because Roman Dmitry trusted him.
Until his lord returned, he would not allow anyone with malicious intent to pass through this corridor.
He secretly triggered a magic signal. It would reach Fernando and alert him to the breach.
‘Five minutes. I must buy at least that much time to ensure Duke Dmitry's safety.’
He gripped his hilt tightly.
He didn't say a single word.
The intruder flared his Aura, his eyes locking onto Kevin.
"Excellent. To have the chance to eliminate both a target on our hit list and Duke Dmitry at the same time... I shall kill you right here."
Rumble!
Crash!
In that split second—
Flash!
Slash!
Kevin felt a searing pain near his neck.
* * *
He was fast.
Even though Kevin had braced himself for incredible speed, the man's swiftness defied imagination.
Flash!
Slash!
Blood sprayed from Kevin's neck.
He had dodged by a hair's breadth.
With the inner voices in his head screaming at him to dodge, Kevin instinctively threw his head back before he even saw or felt the attack coming. That blind intuition was the only reason his head remained attached to his shoulders. As a burning pain radiated from the shallow cut, Sven looked at him, mildly impressed.
"You dodged that?"
His opponent was a 3-Star Swordsman at best. Common sense dictated that the strike should have been impossible to evade. While the reaction speed was certainly impressive, Sven didn't believe a single lucky dodge would change the inevitable outcome.
"Fine. Struggle to the very end. Make this entertaining for me."
Boom!
Rumble!
Sven lunged forward.
In a fraction of a second, the assassin was right in front of him. Kevin flared his Aura, attempting to block the approach. However, his instincts screamed once again to avoid a head-on clash at all costs. Kevin swiftly angled his sword to deflect. But even though the blazing Aura on Sven's blade only lightly grazed his own, a massive shockwave erupted.
Crash!
Kevin's body was violently blown backward.
Part of his Aura shattered on impact, and he momentarily lost all strength in his limbs.
‘I'm completely outmatched.’
A 6-Star Aura.
It was an overwhelming, suffocating power.
Kevin had worked tirelessly to grow stronger. With Felix's help, he had endured grueling 'magic circle training,' achieving the astounding feat of stepping into the 3-Star realm. It was a truly shocking rate of growth. Even with Roman Dmitry's backing, for an ignorant slum boy who knew nothing of swordsmanship to make such a quantum leap in such a short period was a miracle.
And yet, before this man, it felt like a meaningless struggle.
The fruits of Kevin's blood, sweat, and tears felt as fragile as a 1-Star Aura in the face of Sven's absolute might.
‘A head-on clash offers no hope of victory.’
Whoosh!
Tap, tap.
Kevin rapidly retreated.
He deflected the incoming barrage as best he could, his senses sharpening to their absolute limits as he desperately analyzed Sven's movements. The moment his senses registered an attack, even before he could consciously react, a devastating impact would bear down on him. If his inexplicable sixth sense hadn't warned him of the trajectory of Sven's strikes, his entire body would have already been torn to shreds by that fiercely blazing Aura.
It was terrifying.
Forget fighting back—simply surviving the onslaught was overwhelming.
Whoosh!
Another attack grazed past him.
Kevin strictly avoided any direct clashes. The moment he dodged, he swiftly slashed at a fleeting opening in his opponent's guard.
But Sven's reaction speed was monstrous.
He pulled back his sword and counterattacked before Kevin's strike could even land, forcing the boy to abort his attack and desperately evade. It felt like dancing barefoot on a razor's edge. If he hadn't spent all this time sparring against Roman Dmitry, Kevin's head would have been severed on the very first strike.
His mouth went completely dry.
With every single exchange, the brutal reality hammered into his mind: victory was absolutely impossible.
Yet, even knowing the truth, Kevin did not take a single step back.
‘Now!’
Whoosh!
He deflected a downward slash and lunged straight toward the opponent's chest.
To Sven, who fully expected Kevin to keep avoiding direct clashes, this suicidal charge was an unexpected variable. Still, Sven's reaction was flawless. Even as Kevin saw the returning blade slicing toward him, instead of stepping back, he accelerated his charge.
Rumble!
He staked his life on this single strike.
Without even attempting to block, he let the enemy's blade graze him by a hair's breadth, aiming his own sword directly at Sven's neck.
Rumble!
Aura exploded. Roman Dmitry had once told him that although the number of Stars determined the raw power of an Aura, a higher Star level did not guarantee absolute victory.
Kevin believed those words.
Because Roman's past actions had proven them true time and time again.
He believed that the moment his attack connected, even a 6-Star Aura Swordsman would lose his head.
And yet...
"Pathetic."
Sven sneered.
And then—
Thud!
"Argh!"
Kevin was slammed violently into the ground.
As his consciousness flickered, his Aura shattered completely, and a deep, gruesome gash tore down his arm. He hadn't even seen how the counterattack landed. Kevin hurriedly pushed himself up from the cold stone floor, but Sven merely looked down at him with a relaxed, mocking expression, not even bothering to press his advantage.
Drip, drip.
Blood pooled beneath his forearm.
Sensation was rapidly fading from his mangled arm.
"If that's all you've got, it's time for you to die."
It was over.
The gap between him and Sven was an unbridgeable chasm.
Kevin gritted his teeth, suppressing the agonizing pain. Even though he knew how utterly reckless this fight was, and even though he knew he would surely die if he continued...
He could not retreat.
Whenever he thought of Roman Dmitry, the boundless grace he had received made it impossible for him to lower his trembling sword.
He would rather die.
If he failed to carry out his orders, he had no intention of living long enough to face his lord again.
Rumble!
Rumble!
Sven lunged forward for the killing blow.
At that exact moment, Kevin's consciousness plunged deep into the abyss of his own mind.
* * *
The voices in his head clamored in a frantic chorus.
[You can never win.]
[Run away.]
[This is an impossible fight.]
For the first time since he had learned the Martial Arts of the Mad Demon, his inner selves showed weakness.
Kevin had always followed their whispers. For a boy from the gutters to make a name for himself on the battlefield, he had desperately needed their help. He had allowed himself to be consumed by madness, willingly assimilating his mind for the sake of power and results.
But this time, he could not obey them. Even if his stubbornness led directly to his death, there was one absolute truth in Kevin's life where he could never compromise.
The day he first met Roman Dmitry, Kevin had found hope.
He had finally escaped the squalor of the slums, and his parents and younger sibling had learned just how beautiful a human life could be.
On that day, Roman Dmitry had asked him a question:
"I wish to use you as my sword. However, a person's purpose is not decided by the will of others. Therefore, I will present three paths to you so that you may choose for yourself from this moment on."
The first path was to live comfortably as a servant, like Hans.
The second path was to train and grow strong in an ordinary way.
The third path...
Required him to risk his life.
As he severed his own arm to prove his resolve, Kevin had constantly replayed his miserable life in the slums in his mind.
Looking back now, those feelings went far beyond blind loyalty to Roman Dmitry. It was a desperate, clawing desire not to lose the very first real opportunity he had ever been given. The slums were not just a place of poverty; they were a graveyard of hope. In a cruel world where opportunity was never freely granted, Roman Dmitry was a miracle he would otherwise never have encountered in a hundred lifetimes.
After severing his arm, as he looked up with a pale, bloodless face, Roman Dmitry had gazed down at him like a brilliantly shining sun.
"From this day forth, you shall live as a sword that acts in my stead."
On that exact day, Kevin found the meaning of his life.
A boy who had wandered the filthy streets, worrying about his next meal every single day, realized for the first time that his life could hold value because of someone else. That was why his devotion to Roman Dmitry bordered on the fanatical. Having lived a life defined entirely by deprivation, he could never let go of the first emotion that had ever truly fulfilled him.
It must have been from that moment on.
He firmly believed that if he died for Roman Dmitry, even his death would shine brilliantly.
After all, it wouldn't have been strange if the pathetic life of an ordinary slum boy had simply ended in a ditch the day he encountered Blood Fang.
[If you keep this up, you'll die.]
"We cannot run away. Even if we die."
[...Leave it to us.]
[We will help you.]
His mind fractured.
As the voices completely assimilated with Kevin's dominant will, a violent, explosive change began to occur deep within his soul.
And Kevin...
Willingly embraced the madness.
* * *
This internal metamorphosis occurred in a fraction of a second in physical reality.
Seeing Kevin standing there, seemingly dazed and unable to snap out of it, Sven decided to finally end this boring charade.
And yet—
Crash!
Rumble!
There was no sensation of his blade cutting flesh.
He had struck with clear, undeniable intent to kill this time, but only the stone floor shattered beneath his roaring Aura. The expected scream of agony never came.
"You dodged that? Just what on earth are you?"
Sven was genuinely astounded. For a boy of such a young age to have held out this long against him was nothing short of a miracle.
Where Sven's gaze finally landed, Kevin stood perfectly still. He had completely evaded the fatal strike and was now staring back, exuding a strange, horrifyingly eerie momentum.
The Martial Arts of the Mad Demon.
It consisted of three distinct stages.
The first was Assimilation—the process of accepting the demonic power.
The second was Encroachment—the process where the sheer madness of the martial arts forcibly took control of the user's body.
And finally, Control.
Only when a practitioner truly grasped and dominated the screaming madness in their head could the Martial Arts of the Mad Demon manifest its true, unadulterated power.
At this very moment, Kevin had crossed the threshold into the stage of Encroachment.
By entirely surrendering his sanity, he had become a beast incapable of rational thought for as long as the martial arts remained active.
It was a deeply perilous state.
A madman cannot control himself.
Everything—tactics, situational judgment, and even his own sense of self—was violently erased from his mind. All that remained was the single, primal instinct buried deepest within his heart. If that core instinct was malice, he would indiscriminately slaughter every living breathing thing in sight. That was precisely why those who practiced this forbidden art were called 'Mad Demons.' In exchange for granting immense, heaven-defying power in a short time, it was a demonic force that would instantly consume the soul of anyone with a weak mind.
Yet, the single, burning desire demanded by Kevin's deepest instinct was different.
With blood heavily dripping from his mangled arm, Kevin stared at Sven. His eyes were entirely devoid of human reason, gleaming only with pure, unadulterated murderous intent.
"...You cannot pass through here."
Kevin.
What he desired in his madness...
Was neither survival nor victory.
It was simply to carry out Roman Dmitry's command.