The Expert Who Toppled a Master
A blast powerful enough to gouge a crater into the mountainside tore through the air. When the dust settled, Rimer and the 10th Apostle had fallen back, still locked on each other.
"That's a far cry from the rumors that you'd become a cripple."
The 10th Apostle drove his snow-white spear into the earth and narrowed his eyes. That hawk-sharp gaze grew even more vicious.
"Rumors are like clouds. They never hold their shape."
Rimer smiled faintly and spun his sword up onto his shoulder.
"Not when they've spread across the entire continent. You overcame it some other way than martial study, then?"
"Who knows?"
"It doesn't matter."
A thick killing intent began to seep across the 10th Apostle's emotionless eyes.
"While you were standing still, struggling to overcome your injuries, I kept moving forward."
He raised his spear once more. White Ganggi surged up the blade and warped the air around it.
"Sure. Everyone moved forward. But I wasn't just lying in a hospital bed either."
Rimer raised his sword, a faint smile on his lips. He regulated his breathing so he could open the Sword Realm Manifestation at any moment.
"Then I won't need to hold back from the start."
The 10th Apostle spun his spear through the empty air and stomped down. The ground collapsed beneath the strike, and a colossal wave of energy roared toward the sky in the opposite direction. His Ganggi condensed as if it had evolved another stage, throwing off massive sparks.
"This is a little outside what I expected…"
Rimer's brow furrowed slightly as he watched the 10th Apostle's Ganggi blaze along the spearhead.
"This first mission might also be my last."
"Try to endure. I'd rather you not die in a single blow."
The 10th Apostle leveled his spear, and a terrifying current of energy unfurled from the blade—the White Blood Cult's distinctive presence, seizing the space around them.
"Tsk. I really don't enjoy fights this tight."
Rimer clicked his tongue. He raised his blade skyward and pointed two gathered fingers at the ground—preparation to invoke the Sword Realm Manifestation the instant the battle began.
A deep, grinding roar filled the air. The mountain itself was coming apart under the waves of aura pouring off the two of them when a tremendous burst of energy erupted from the mansion, which had already been reduced to powder. Someone's Life Essence plummeted to less than half in a single instant.
Without a word, Rimer and the 10th Apostle converted the power they'd been about to hurl at each other into footwork and shot toward the mansion like streaks of light.
A harsh, tearing shriek of metal. The blade of Frost Lotus, harmonized with the demonic energy of the Requiem Sword, punched through the 7th Apostle's blood aura and carved a deep wound into his chest.
"This is nothing!"
The 7th Apostle swung his saw blade as if a wound like that couldn't possibly matter. That was a mistake. The second stroke of Frost Lotus was sharper than the first.
Like water from a waterfall striking the rocks and leaping skyward again, the frost blade followed a silver arc and punched through the right side of his chest.
Raon clicked his tongue. He had been aiming for the heart, but what he'd pierced was the right side of the chest. It wasn't as if the 7th Apostle had picked up his Master rank playing children's games—in that fleeting instant, he had reacted and kept the blade from running through his heart.
"Ghk—!"
The 7th Apostle staggered back. Even if it wasn't his heart, having his entire chest torn open was a massive shock. Grayish blood poured from his mouth, and the Ganggi wreathing his saw blade began to lose its light.
The regenerative power dwelling in his White Soul aura was trying to knit his body back together, but the wound was so vast it was clearly struggling.
Raon kicked off the floor and drove forward. His own condition was wretched after using Flame Dragon Form and Frost Lotus while already carrying internal injuries—but he had to finish this here. If not now, the chance would never come again.
He channeled the Flower Spirit of the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames through the Heavenly Sky Sword. Petals of crimson flame rode the wind and fanned out, homing in on the 7th Apostle's vital points.
"GRAAAAH!"
The 7th Apostle loosed a scream that was half battle cry and detonated the blood aura coiled around his saw blade. The blood energy spreading in a circle collided with the flames of Flower Spirit, and explosions chained one after another.
If I fall back, it's over.
Raon endured the brutal blasts with his body and charged through them, bringing the reverse-gripped Requiem Sword down in a crushing strike. The crimson blade punched through the blood aura and buried itself in the 7th Apostle's shoulder.
A spray of liquid—molten metal or blood, it was impossible to tell—erupted from the wound.
"GAAAAH!"
The 7th Apostle, barely clinging to his senses, flailed the saw blade wildly. The Ganggi hadn't fully gone out, so even those blind, thrashing cuts were lethal.
I can't afford to take a hit.
If he collided with one of those swings by accident—or worse, if one of them landed—he wouldn't be able to keep this offensive going. He had to dodge every attack and drive only his own blades home.
He operated the Ring of Fire, reading the chaotic rain of falling steel, then unleashed Revolving Heaven through the Heavenly Sky Sword and the Refining Sword Technique through the Requiem Sword.
A wheel of flame, smooth as a crescent moon, turned the 7th Apostle's saw blade aside.
The instant the saw struck the ground, Raon extended the Requiem Sword in his left hand. The proud, spiraling flow of the Refining Sword Technique intertwined with the savagery of demonic energy, and the crimson blade danced like a thing possessed.
Blood sprayed from the 7th Apostle's shoulder, chest, wrist, and thigh as the Requiem Sword carved past.
"GRAAAH! Get away from me!"
The 7th Apostle thrust the saw blade forward. The force packed into it was dizzying, but the sword path itself was simple. He had no room left to spare either.
Raon held his breath and moved. Even as the saw blade sliced across his waist, he swept the Heavenly Sky Sword and the Requiem Sword down in a crossing cut.
In the instant before both blades could reach him, the blood aura condensed in the 7th Apostle's chest erupted in a burst of pale fire.
The ground beneath the mansion finally gave way. Raon and the 7th Apostle plunged into the underground corridor where the villagers had been held captive.
"Hah— hah…"
Raon spat ragged breaths and stared ahead. Through the smoke boiling up from the floor, the 7th Apostle's figure resolved. His hair was a wild tangle, his entire body was soaked in blood, and his eyes had gone dull and vacant. The saw blade hung toward the ground—he no longer even had the strength to hold it up. The end was in sight.
At this rate…!
He adjusted his grip on both swords and started toward the man—and that was when Wrath's warning slammed into him, together with a sensation of death he hadn't felt since his days as an assassin, blooming at his back.
"Kh—!"
There was no time to turn around.
I'll have to give up an arm.
He twisted with everything he had, ready to trade a limb for his life—and a light, clean rush of wind cut through the air behind him.
A colossal collision of energy erupted at his back, and a violent shockwave burst outward. He was about to be thrown forward by the blast when someone's hand caught his collar and held him fast.
"Hah…"
Raon looked back, his face twisting.
"Why are you always late?"
"The hero's supposed to show up late. That's what makes it cool."
Rimer let go of him, grinning. The one who had been aiming for Raon's back was already gone. The moment he'd clashed with Rimer, he'd used that force to drop himself right beside the 7th Apostle.
"The 10th Apostle…"
Raon narrowed his eyes at the figure supporting the 7th Apostle.
"Can't the hero even finish off the enemy?"
"That one broke through another wall over the last twenty years. He's gotten a lot stronger. And the second that kid went down to you, he bolted straight over. I never had an opening to grab him."
Rimer jerked his chin toward the 7th Apostle and shrugged.
"But looking at how you nearly killed him… I've got nothing to say."
His eyes held unmistakable astonishment. He had hoped Raon would hold out. He had never imagined he would bring the 7th Apostle down.
"Ghhhk— s-senior brother…"
"I can't tell if what I'm looking at is real."
The 10th Apostle wrinkled his nose as he looked down at the 7th Apostle, whose entire body was shuddering in agony. Even a man who seemed incapable of panic apparently found a Master being broken by an Expert astonishing.
"You did this?"
The 10th Apostle's gaze, edged with genuine disorientation, turned on Raon.
"That's right."
Raon nodded, unshaken, even standing before the 10th Apostle's terrifying wave of energy.
"An Expert bringing down a Master—even a top-tier Expert. That's the kind of thing that goes down in history."
"I-I didn't lose! I let my guard down and made a mistake—"
"A mistake? Not making mistakes is also a skill."
"It's true! I-if we fought again, I could k-kill him for certain!"
"Say that after you can stand on those shaking legs. If I hadn't been here, you'd be dead today."
The 10th Apostle's voice was cold enough to freeze, as if the entire situation displeased him.
"We'll call today our loss."
He slung the 7th Apostle over his shoulder and rose.
"N-no! That bastard! I can't leave without k-killing that son of a bitch!"
"Shut your mouth."
"Ghhhk—!"
The 7th Apostle couldn't even hold himself upright, but he still screamed himself hoarse.
"G-go? You're not going anywhere, you son of a bitch!"
Marta, who had fallen with them, forced herself up, coughing blood.
"You're not leaving. I'll kill you here. You and that slit-eyed bastard both!"
Her arms and legs were trembling, but she planted herself on her feet all the same.
"She's right. Who said we were letting you go?"
Raon leveled his sword at the 10th Apostle. He was exhausted, his aura was scraped to the bottom, and his insides churned from internal injuries—but the tip of his blade did not waver.
"The man behind you seems to think otherwise."
At that, Raon looked back. Just as the 10th Apostle had said, Rimer had lowered his sword-point toward the ground, showing no intent to fight.
"Well, we could fight. We could probably kill those two, even. But…"
Rimer pointed toward the Light Wind Squad on the floor above, and the hostages who hadn't managed to escape, and clicked his tongue.
"The Light Wind Squad here would be wiped out too—you and me included. We've got a lot to protect in this place."
He said it as calmly as if he were discussing someone else's problem.
"What's it going to be?"
Rimer looked from Raon to Marta in turn. The meaning was clear: if they wanted to fight, he would.
"Kh…"
The moment it was put in terms of everyone's lives, Marta couldn't say another word. She bit down on her lip.
He's right.
Wrath, who had been silent until now, burst out of the bracelet.
The one in front of you has surpassed the stage you humans call Master. If Pointy Ears opened a barrier as he once did and staked his life, you might catch him—but you, the Beef Girl, and Eyeballs would all die.
…
Thou knowest this well enough, do you not? This is unlike thee.
Because the way they act pisses me off.
Wrath was right. On any other day, Raon would have withdrawn. To feel the 10th Apostle's power this clearly and still dig in his heels like this—it was because of those bastards' hypocrisy.
"Is even trash like you precious to each other as brothers?"
"What?"
The 10th Apostle lowered his brows, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"You know what this place is, don't you? These are the cages your subordinates dragged living people into and locked up like animals."
Raon pointed at the iron cells, their bars torn away when the ground above had collapsed.
"You smashed the villages of people living with their families, dragged them here by force, drank their blood and tore the flesh from their bones—and you're telling me your brother is precious?"
He clenched the wildly vibrating Requiem Sword until his knuckles went white, and killing intent unfurled from him.
"You don't even know the names of the villages you destroyed. You don't even know the names of the tribes you painted in blood. And you're telling me your family is precious?"
In his previous life, he would never have said any of this. He would have simply let them go, breathing a sigh of relief that he had survived.
But living as Raon Zieghart, he had learned what family meant. He had learned the warmth of the one place where he could simply be at ease. Because he knew that life now, he couldn't swallow the heat churning in his chest.
The 10th Apostle said nothing. His eyes only glittered more fiercely, as if the whole thing irritated him.
"Those pieces of trash should consider it an honor to become our food! We were delivering them from their worthless, insect lives!"
The 7th Apostle ground his teeth, glaring at Raon.
"Then you lost to me, which makes you trash and an insect too. You were on a higher level and you still lost. If I were you, I'd bite my tongue and die right here."
"Y-you won by luck! If we fought again, you couldn't even take a single one of my strikes!"
"Losers should shut up."
Raon ignored the 7th Apostle and looked at the 10th Apostle as he stepped over to Marta and took her by the shoulder.
"Huh?"
Marta turned around, her eyes going wide. Her shoulder trembled; she was too stunned to speak.
"Ha!"
The 10th Apostle let out a short, incredulous laugh. It might have been mockery—or it might have been him accepting the challenge.
"Y-you'll die by my hand before that happens! The moment my body heals, I'll come find you and kill you!"
The 7th Apostle raised a finger that wouldn't stop shaking.
"You wouldn't be enough."
"What?"
"The next time we meet, I'll be a Master too. You lost to me when I was an Expert. At the same rank, you won't even be my opponent. You'd be better off running the moment you see my face."
"You arrogant little—"
Rage and humiliation flushed the 7th Apostle's face a deep, burning red.
"You think becoming a Master is that easy? A wall isn't something you just walk over!"
"You crossed it. There's no reason I can't."
"Y-you bastard! Senior brother! Let me go! I can't leave without killing him!"
At Raon's certainty, the 7th Apostle's eyes bulged as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"You will never— urk!"
The moment he started ranting again, the 10th Apostle chopped him across the neck and knocked him out.
"You've got quite a mouth on you. What's your name?"
"Raon Zieghart."
"Raon Zieghart. And the survivor of a nameless village. I'll look forward to meeting you both again."
The 10th Apostle slung the unconscious 7th Apostle over his shoulder and stepped back.
"Don't you dare act cool, you murdering bastard! My mother— khh…"
He glanced once at Marta, who was still spitting curses, and vanished in an instant.
"Ah…"
The moment the 10th Apostle disappeared, Marta dropped to her knees and collapsed. She should have lost consciousness long ago. She had been holding on through nothing but rage.
"You did really well."
Rimer approached with a gentle smile.
"I was only able to stand my ground because you were pushing your presence in from behind."
Raon shook his head. It was because Rimer had put his weight behind him that he hadn't backed down in front of the 10th Apostle, and had been able to say what needed to be said. Most of the time, it was impossible to tell what the man was thinking—but at moments like this, he was genuinely someone worth having.
"Not that. I meant you beating the 7th Apostle."
"That was just what I had to do."
"'Just what I had to do.' You're probably the only person alive who'd say that about a Master."
Rimer let out a disbelieving puff of air.
"You need to rest now too."
"Yes. I think I do."
Raon spat the blood he'd been holding at the back of his throat. The internal injuries he'd taken every time he clashed with Ganggi had piled up past the point of endurance. Even willpower couldn't hold them back anymore.
"Then I'll leave the rest to you."
Feeling the Requiem Sword tremble as it absorbed the blood aura of the 7th Apostle and the Archbishop, and sensing multiple status windows rising before him, he closed his eyes. The world went white.
Rimer caught Raon as he fell, used his aura to stabilize the internal injuries, and slowly let out a breath.
I don't even know how to take this.
He knew Raon's strength well enough by now. He'd predicted the boy would be able to hold out against the 7th Apostle to some degree.
That was why he'd been weighing whether to take the 10th Apostle's measure and settle for a draw, or kill the man even if it meant becoming a cripple again. Raon had rendered the entire dilemma meaningless by beating the 7th Apostle and ending the situation himself.
He really does surprise me every time.
He hadn't predicted this outcome at all, so before the amazement even had time to settle, he was simply stunned.
An Expert who defeated a Master…
In a one-on-one fight, an Expert defeating a Master had never happened. Not once. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say the established rules of the world had just been rewritten.
What I told Morell wasn't a lie after all.
A dry laugh escaped him. He had told Morell that Raon would rewrite the history of the continent. And now it had actually happened.
And that—that was something else entirely.
The sight of Raon declaring that Marta would be the one to kill the 10th Apostle, a Grandmaster, had sent a shock and a thrill through him at the same time.
I chose right.
It confirmed, once again, that choosing Raon as the king who would open a new era had been the correct decision.
Rimer gathered the unconscious Raon and Marta into his arms, and smiled.
"Defeating an Apostle. Whether they believe it or not, the entire continent is going to go wild."