Chapter 135
Chapter 135
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 135
Chapter Title: The Sword Demon Awakens
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My body is trembling.
My heart is pounding wildly.
Right before my eyes, the crimson-black smoke slaughters every monster charging toward it, moving as if it possesses a will of its own.
From within that crimson-black haze, two eyes—darker and denser than the smoke itself—blaze forth.
"Kuoohhh!"
Kukukung! Kukukung!
At that moment, five demons boasting exceptional power burst through the crimson-black smoke.
The smoke scatters like blood spraying from a wound, torn to shreds by the five demons.
"Krarrarara!"
Judging solely by the sheer volume of demonic energy emanating from afar, these five demons are clearly ranked ones.
Monsters on the level of humanity's calamities, ranging from at least viscount to earl class.
The beasts treat the crimson-black smoke like an archenemy, slashing at every last wisp with their claws, determined to obliterate it entirely.
But that lasted only a moment.
Hwaaak. Kung.
From the midst of the five demons, the scattered crimson-black smoke reformed as if rewinding to before the assault, accompanied by a small shockwave.
"......"
From the monster-shaped demon that had been roaring...
To the one clad in the blackest armor, appearing the strongest of them all...
Not a single one could utter a word.
They simply stood frozen, staring at the crimson-black glow.
Chok.
It was unbelievable, even seeing it with my own eyes.
Who could possibly believe it?
No, beyond belief or disbelief, it was a sight too spectacular to deny.
The necks of five ranked demons—humanity's calamities—soaring into the air simultaneously.
It felt like someone had gripped my heart tight and then released it, adrenaline surging straight to my brain.
My pupils dilated, then contracted.
Sseuueuk.
"D-don't come closer..."
The boss of the San Marino Demonus.
A ranked demon whose identity, if revealed to the world, would unleash utter chaos.
Marquis Gristarin shuddered violently as he toppled backward.
This was the eve of the first national-level Demonus—an A-rank one—being cleared.
Yet why was this happening?
Why did it feel so terrifying?
"Su-Supreme One..."
At that moment, a familiar voice came from beside Myung-su, whose mouth hung open so wide his saliva had dried up.
Varum's lips quivered as his body shook uncontrollably, mouth agape.
His hands, already fully demonized, bore sharp blue claws.
True to his immense power and cheat-like skills, unlike Myung-su who still couldn't move, Varum was already capable of motion.
Yet Varum didn't budge.
He simply trembled, staring at the crimson-black smoke.
'Everyone must be feeling the same as me.'
Who knew Varum could wear such an expression?
Watching Varum's face and demeanor, Myung-su realized it.
All of them—the Ghost Killer Annihilation Squad, Demon Dragon Corps, Demon Shadow Assassins—were undoubtedly sharing the exact same emotion he felt.
Familiar yet novel.
Comforting yet disconcerting.
A mix of serenity and anxiety.
Joy at being alive clashing with terror at the brush of death, shaking his entire body.
These contradictory emotions, like paradoxes unto themselves, pushed Myung-su's eyes to the verge of doubt.
'Because...'
That crimson-black smoke was an aura everyone here knew all too well.
And the one enveloped in it, radiating killing intent indiscriminately toward allies and enemies alike—they all knew who it was.
Crimson Heavenly Demon Energy.
Lee Yong-un.
Yes. That terrifying presence, at once stranger and more familiar, was none other than the one they'd sworn their lives to follow.
The Supreme One. Lee Yong-un.
For 13 years of conquering this world's lands, he'd earned recognition, gaining both the title of marquis and a treasure from the demon realm—a possession of that one.
Thanks to it, Gristarin had spent the past seven years tirelessly unraveling the secrets of his new acquisition, without a single day's rest.
Even for long-lived demons spanning millennia, seven years coexisting with a single object in idleness felt interminably long.
He'd have preferred rampaging freely through the blood-and-slaughter-filled demon realm.
But Gristarin was overjoyed.
Those seven long years felt not a whit wasted.
Because he'd fully inherited the possession of the one he so revered and admired.
Because of it!
'I've drawn even closer to that one.'
The time had come to inherit that one's will and grasp even a fragment of that one's intent.
And the vermin to commence that sacred first trial had arrived.
He was utterly delighted.
So ecstatic that he could die right then without regret.
'Of course, that was before realizing there was a monster among the vermin.'
An awkward crack crept into Marquis Gristarin's signature vile grin.
He spread his hands and examined them.
As proof of fully assimilating that one's possession, a faint trace of that one's aura flowed visibly through his hands to his eyes.
'This trembling doesn't suit me...'
He'd achieved what he'd longed for so desperately.
Yet why this?
His hands wouldn't stop shaking.
His once-joyful heart now thundered ceaselessly with fear.
Clearly, barring that one, no life could defy his will.
He possessed that one's item, after all.
As long as he had that one's item, they had to obey.
Swipe.
"Ha, haha..."
Thud.
This wouldn't do.
He'd finally drawn near to that one.
Nothing must defy his will, his intent.
What he desired must come to pass.
'It must be so...'
Crack.
That became Marquis Gristarin's final whisper.
Regardless of his will, his neck snapped like a frail twig in an utterly pathetic manner.
His desire not to die should have reattached the broken neck.
But Marquis Gristarin couldn't manage it.
And the reason drifted down from the sky like falling snowflakes.
A mass of steel-gray threads fluttered in the windless heavens.
The Demon-Slaying Sword was no mere weapon for killing.
Nor was it a famed blade.
The Heavenly Demon Cult did not bestow famed swords lightly.
Especially not to a demon head freshly ascended.
Yong-un's reunion with the Demon-Slaying Sword began then.
"Please engrave the Demon-Slaying Sword upon my sword body."
Upon becoming a demon horseman, Yong-un headed to the Heavenly Demon Cult's foremost forge and inscribed a name upon his blade for the first time.
"Ehing, the young ones these days are so peculiar. Talking nonsense about exterminating demons, and now you want to slay them outright?"
Those were the words of the Heavenly Demon Cult's master blacksmith at the time.
Just as the Demon Extermination Sword used by the Demon Extermination Squad meant "demon exterminator"...
The inscription "Demon-Slaying Sword" on the blade meant "demon slayer."
That had been the original intent.
The reason Yong-un named his sword Demon-Slaying Sword was precisely that meaning.
"Well, if the founding Heavenly Demon saw this, he'd be appalled, but what can you do? Times change. It's up to those who learn and wield the script."
Words and their meanings are not eternal.
They shift with the eras.
Just as the Demon Extermination Squad no longer meant demon exterminators, the blacksmith believed "Demon-Slaying" no longer meant slaying demons.
Yong-un's intended meaning was the former.
But the Demon-Slaying Sword reborn through the blacksmith's hands was utterly transformed.
The hilt and steel composition remained unchanged.
Externally, nothing had altered save the "Demon-Slaying Sword" inscription on the blade.
Yet from that moment...
The Demon-Slaying Sword began transcending ordinary blades to become a demonic sword that thirsted for blood.
"What in the world have you been doing with this sword? A bizarre experience. The more it strikes, the stronger the bloody scent overpowers even the iron."
Tang! Whoooong—
Something settled into his outstretched left hand.
The fierce recoil meant nothing.
If anything, it was welcome.
'This power, this sensation...'
And the scent of blood.
As Yong-un raised his head, crimson-black light exploded from his eyes.
Jiiiiiing.
As if greeting its long-lost master, the Demon-Slaying Sword inscription—etched by the blacksmith—glowed crimson-black.
Yong-un's Crimson Heavenly Demon Energy wove threads with the sword's own, intertwining tightly—one strand, two—until they merged seamlessly as one, as if they'd always been so.
Then, from both Yong-un and the Demon-Slaying Sword, crimson-black smoke billowed ceaselessly.
"Handle it with care."
As the whole world dyed red, the blacksmith's voice echoed from memories long faded by time.
"In seventy years, I've forged and handled countless swords, but never one exuding such a vicious aura."
Jiiiiiing.
The Demon-Slaying Sword resonated.
It expressed satisfaction with its powerful master's energy.
The sword's quivering vibrations traveled up Yong-un's left arm to his brain.
The thick smile curling his lips rose even higher.
And the blacksmith's final words severed the last thread of Yong-un's restraint.
"Or perhaps... the opposite."
Horror and dread filled the blacksmith's eyes, unable to tear away from Yong-un.
The blacksmith staggered back.
"It's not you who must take care... but that sword."
The Demon-Slaying Sword and Yong-un fully synchronized.
The Supreme One, Yong-un, vanished from that spot.
In his place stood a puppet of crimson-black smoke.
The Slaughter Ghost that had drenched the martial world in terror.
Seeeik!
"Kuhahahahaha!"
The Sword Demon opened his eyes.
The boss of the San Marino Demonus.
The calamity manifesting in the present world.
Marquis Gristarin met his end in the grasp of the Sword Demon—whether enveloped by the crimson-black smoke or transformed into it, none could tell.
This boss had inflicted irrecoverable wounds and massive losses on every major power's hunters.
Even South Korea's national team had teetered on the brink of disaster.
Yet thanks to the Sword Demon's actions, the South Korean national team survived unscathed.
"......"
Whoooong.
With the boss dead, every member of the South Korean national team could move again.
Yet why was it?
Not a soul among them spoke or stirred.
An utter silence, profound enough to hear the wind whistling.
Pak!
"Kuhuhuhuhu."
The Sword Demon's foot crushed the severed head of the already-dead Marquis Gristarin.
The skull burst, spraying blue demon blood everywhere.
At the sight, all subordinates clamped their mouths shut.
'I-is that really the Supreme One...?'
'Su...preme One?'
'Big Bro Supreme One, I'm scared. Stop...'
Whatever force he'd stomped with, Gristarin's blood splattered across every subordinate's body.
They finally willed their frozen bodies to move.
But not one dared approach the crimson-black smoke.
They'd all seen it—known it.
That smoke was unmistakably the Crimson Heavenly Demon Energy wielded by their revered Supreme One, Yong-un. How could they not recognize it?
Yet the Sword Demon's final act, shrouded in that crimson-black smoke, prevented any from approaching.
Because that act was something Yong-un would never do.
'He desecrated a corpse already dead... Is that really the Supreme One?'
'That's not the Supreme One...'
'That's not him! Not the Supreme One!'
Chaos erupted in every subordinate's heart.
Their hearts pounded fiercely, urging them to rush forward and serve the Supreme One.
But their minds screamed warnings to flee—that thing wasn't the Supreme One, so run without looking back if they wanted to live.
'What do we do?!'
All the subordinates cried out inwardly in unison.
It was then, as their inner shouts unified into one voice...
"Bro..."
Step. Step. Step.
"...?!"
In this space where none dared move recklessly...
Footsteps pierced through the wind's howl, resounding clearly.
"Bro...? That's you, right?"
All the subordinates paled in shock.
They'd sworn their lives to the Supreme One, yet with the figure before them ambiguous—Supreme One or something else—they couldn't hurl themselves forward blindly.
Yet in this moment, one foolhardy soul threw caution to the wind.
Every subordinate whipped their heads around, eyes and mouths wide enough to whistle with the wind.
And they bit their lips.
"My-Myung-un!"
"Isn't that the Supreme One's brother?!"
"Stop him!"
The one approaching the Sword Demon was none other than Myung-un.
Fearless, he strode boldly toward the Sword Demon.
At his figure, every subordinate—who hadn't budged an inch—kicked off the ground simultaneously.
No time for assessing the situation.
Just witnessing Myung-un approach the Sword Demon spurred them all to leap toward him.
"Stop him!!!!"
As the subordinates screamed at the top of their lungs and charged toward Myung-un...
Myung-un's pupils began dilating, dyeing crimson-black.
The crimson-black reflection in his eyes swelled until it filled them completely.
Then the crimson-black light overflowing from his pupils engulfed his eyes entirely, and the sword swung toward Myung-un.
Hwaaaaak.
The crescent-slitted eyes and Demon-Slaying Sword ultimately consumed Myung-un's gaze.
"No!!!!!"
"KyaAAAAAHHH!!"
Within the San Marino Demonus, now bossless, the screams of the Poison Witch and the Dancer echoed throughout.