Chapter 88
Allen launched into battle against Bahamons. Crescent-shaped sword auras sliced through the air, carving into the bones of the harpies and griffins. The severed bone fragments plummeted to the ground as if drained of all strength, plunging the battlefield into a momentary silence.
“N-not bad, Hero!”
Just then, some oblivious dwarf let out that exclamation toward me. Seizing that split-second opening, I charged straight at the skeleton knight. The sword's performance exceeded expectations. Unlike Feril's blade, which had shattered after a single technique, Katrin Jayhops's creation still gleamed with razor sharpness.
Clang!
I aimed for the skeleton knight's head, capitalizing on the surprise, but it raised its sword to block my trajectory in advance.
“Hmph!”
A heavy grunt escaped the skeleton knight—perhaps surprised by the power infused in my blade. But I showed no reaction to its admiration, swinging again to target its midsection.
“Fine swordsmanship. Are you the Hero?”
The skeleton knight blocked my strike once more and posed the question. I gave a casual nod in response before resuming my assault. Our blades clashed repeatedly in the air, but I couldn't pierce its defense. Whenever I considered unleashing a major technique out of frustration, it shrewdly disrupted my rhythm, leaving me faintly impatient.
What a pain, seriously.
No, calling it a pain was actually an understatement—I was spoiled rotten. In the previous timeline, I'd only beaten this skeleton knight thanks to the goddess's Immortal Body. But now, I was pressuring it without a single scratch, and the knight couldn't hide its bewilderment at my skill.
“Where on earth did you learn to wield a sword like that?”
“Here and there.”
I tossed the answer at the ever-curious skeleton knight and pressed on with my strikes. It was natural for it to be intrigued by my swordplay. Right now, it was just Bahamons's loyal number one subordinate, but in life, it had apparently been a renowned knight. I smirked inwardly at the skeleton knight, who was focusing heavily on defense as if appraising my blade. It seemed to think it could end the fight once it got used to my style—but good luck with that.
“Th-this... impossible...”
Soon enough, a voice of dismay leaked from the skeleton knight. My sword was now mimicking its techniques—including ones it hadn't even used yet. For a foe unaware of my regression, that was bound to cause panic.
“Y-you... how do you know this swordsmanship?”
In truth, I'd never formally learned swordsmanship from anyone. Ask me the origin of my style, and I'd have nothing concrete to say. In the first timeline, I'd picked up basics from Jena von Darius; I'd chanced upon the Light Sword's insights; I'd stolen the Mercenary Empress's swift footwork; and I'd studied this very skeleton knight's techniques for a while. Countless styles had blended together, to the point where I could barely distinguish them anymore. But the body remembers longer than the mind. As I crossed blades with the skeleton knight, I felt my old achievements resurfacing bit by bit.
Come to think of it, it's been ages since I broke a real sweat.
After regressing, I hadn't faced a proper opponent. I'd breezed through every fight, and though I'd put in some effort, my blade's edge wasn't what it used to be. Now, clashing with the skeleton knight, I was gradually reclaiming those lost sensations. It had just the right level of skill—enough to make me sweat, enough to annoy me with its solid blocks.
“Tell me. How do you know that swordsmanship?”
“It's from my family style.”
I brushed off the persistent skeleton knight with a vague lie. For a split second, its empty sockets seemed to flicker, but of course, they were voids.
“Damn it. A descendant of the family?”
It leaped back, widening the distance, and demanded confirmation. I figured it was jumping to ridiculous conclusions, but saw no need to correct it. A quick glance revealed Karen starting to get pushed back.
Time to wrap this up.
“What nonsense is this?”
“Are you from the Paras family?”
“...”
I played along with its questions just enough. Truth be told, I wanted to keep sparring, but if Bahamons turned his attention here, we'd both be done for. As I fell silent without answering, I could see the skeleton knight growing flustered. Sensing the perfect opening, I shouted back at it.
“Filthy servant of the Demon King—you dare speak that name?”
“Descendant... stand down. I won't kill you...”
“Idiot! Wrong family!”
I lunged as it pulled its sword back slightly. While it monologued, I'd channeled aura into my blade, and a streak of white energy hurtled toward its skull.
“S-such cowardice!”
The skeleton knight swung wildly to block, but this was a Light Sword technique. No phantom from some unheard-of Paras family could parry it.
Boom!
Its sword met the white aura, and the skeleton knight flew backward. Tough bastard—it survived without instant death. Using the Jibo footwork I'd stolen from the Mercenary Empress, I closed in behind it and thrust at its head.
Gotcha!
By my memory, Bahamons's life vessel should be inside there. He trusted no one in the Demon King's army, hiding his life essence—practically his second life—in his subordinate's skull. But I scowled at the hollow sensation at my blade's tip. Something should have snagged; instead, its head felt completely empty.
“Kyaa!!”
Suddenly, Karen's scream echoed from above, and she plummeted to the ground. Impressive as she was, facing Bahamons alone had been too much. I let out a hollow laugh at the lich gazing down at me, his robe scorched.
...This is bad.
Bahamons wasn't an easy win to begin with. He didn't die easily, and as a lich spamming high-level magic without tiring, he was a nightmare. Even in the first timeline, I'd only taken him down by luck, stumbling on his life vessel. I was stronger now than back then, so it wasn't a guaranteed loss—but things had gotten messy regardless. Worst of all, I had no clue where his life vessel was hidden now. Killing him would be pointless if it remained intact; he'd just revive.
“You...”
“How about we call it a draw?”
I tossed the question at the lich staring at me with its vacant eyes. Not that I thought he'd agree—it was just my way of saying I didn't want to fight.
“Baal was right. He said you'd know where my life vessel is.”
“...Baal?”
My eyes sharpened at the unprompted intel. If Baal had tipped off Bahamons, it meant he at least knew I was in my second loop—whether he'd figured it out himself or the Demon King had spilled it. Either way, Baal was a pain even without that knowledge. The difficulty spike left a bitter taste, and I gave Bahamons a wry smile.
“So? Did you hide your vessel on his orders? What if he comes for it?”
It was a long shot, but I prodded at Bahamons's paranoia. Baal wouldn't kill a useful subordinate unless he snapped, but manipulating him via the vessel? Totally feasible.
“Nonsense. Even Baal doesn't know where I hid it.”
“You sure? Absolutely positive?”
I kept talking as I circled him, buying time. I was worn out anyway, and every second counted.