Chapter 168: You Should Have Used Attack Magic
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 168: You Should Have Used Attack Magic
The moon had long since vanished, and at some point, dark clouds had swallowed the sky.
Muen felt a wetness splash against his face.
Is it raining?
He instinctively licked his lips, and his mouth was instantly filled with the nauseating, metallic stench of rust.
Ah, right.
It wasn't raining.
This wasn't water.
It was blood.
...The blood of a woman who was about to die because of him.
Muen’s gaze dropped stiffly. The woman lay powerless on the ground, crimson blood pooling beneath her. Her body convulsed with agony, yet she couldn't even squeeze out a cry of pain.
Her vocal cords, already ravaged, had gone completely hoarse from her repeated cries just moments ago.
She might have already lost her sight; she might have already lost her hearing.
Yet, she was still using every ounce of her strength to say something.
Muen watched the movement of her lips intently and realized she was saying:
"Run."
Not "Save me."
But "Run."
"Truly... stupid beyond belief."
Muen suddenly began to laugh. He laughed so hard every bone in his body vibrated, every muscle twitched.
"We don't even know each other's names, yet you're telling me to run?
"You're on the verge of death, yet you're giving up on me—your only potential lifesaver—just to tell me to run?
"Do you even know who I am?
"I’ve shouted it loud enough; haven't you heard me yet?
"I am the son of Duke Campbell!
"I am an honor student of St. Maria Academy!
"I am Teacher Mela’s last disciple!
"And yet, you’re telling me to run?"
Muen lifted his head, looking toward those pairs of eyes that were gradually becoming bloodshot—eyes losing their sanity to terror, turning feral. He asked with utter sincerity:
"Tell me, isn't it hilarious?"
Yes!
It was too hilarious!
So hilarious...
That it makes me...
Want to kill!
Pure white short blades appeared in his hands. Golden patterns traced cold, ruthless designs in the deep night. Muen’s figure, wrapped in the biting chill of late autumn, seemed to glide across the ground in an instant, bridging the distance between life and death.
Lorenzo roared frantically at that moment, "Quick! Kill him! You must kill him! If he dies, I have a way to smuggle you out of Belland! Otherwise, we’re all finished!"
At this moment, the desperate madness Muen had previously ignored manifested perfectly in these thugs.
They gripped their weapons and charged toward the high-and-mighty son of a Duke, heedless of their lives!
Clang!
Longsword met short blade, sending sparks flying. Through the reflection of the steel, Muen saw his own eyes—they were just as crimson as the gangsters'.
Yet, in this moment, Muen felt an incredible sense of calm deep within.
Like a still lake.
But when he looked down, he found that beneath the lake...
A fire was raging!
"Die!"
Muen roared.
He swung his blade with a violent force.
Slash!
Blood sprayed.
The Red Fire Gang elite who first reached Muen stared in bewilderment at his severed blade and his arm, which now ended at the elbow.
Before he could even scream in pain, Muen had already slammed into his chest, driving a short blade into his heart.
The magic armor beneath the man's clothes flickered with azure magic circuits. This armor, capable of withstanding even military magic repeating crossbows, was instantly pierced by the short blade!
Fighting spirit surged, coiling around the short blade and highlighting the peculiar sanctity of the pure white edge.
But within that sanctity lay absolute violence.
If Mela were to see this, she would surely cheer with joy, offering heartfelt praise for her masterpiece.
This was the true reason she wanted to forge the Holy Sword.
A person like Muen was not suited for something as soft as a Holy Sword.
A true beast needs claws to unleash its full power!
Muen felt as if he had grown claws. The two short blades, being used in earnest for the first time, felt like extensions of his own arms, moving exactly as he willed.
He crushed the heart of the man in front of him and kicked the body away. His two pure white blades, untainted by a single drop of blood, swung in a perfect arc to meet more cold steel.
For a time, faced with a coordinated assault, Muen didn't give an inch.
In fact, as his movements refined in the heat of battle, his dual-wielding became increasingly fluid, gradually turning the tide into a counter-pressure.
"Useless trash!"
Muen heard a furious roar.
From the corner of his eye, a figure slammed into the battlefield. Though the man wasn't particularly massive, he brought with him a pressure as heavy as a mountain!
Lorenzo gripped his longsword and took a deep breath. A strange aura seemed to swirl around him; Muen saw several withered yellow leaves spiral around Lorenzo’s body before being instantly shredded into dust.
This was...
"Hah!"
Lorenzo gave a thunderous shout, mobilizing every bit of his fighting spirit. Without hesitation, he utilized his Peak Second-Tier realm alongside his magic armor to unleash his strongest strike.
Martial Technique: Rending Demon!
The longsword swung down, shattering instantly under the sheer, terrifying force.
The bluestone pavement in front of him exploded. Several invisible, razor-sharp waves of energy expanded outward, as if the giant claws of a monster were sweeping through the area, tearing everything in their path to shreds.
Surrounded and under attack, Muen had no time to dodge.
He could only watch as he was swallowed by the terrifying shockwave.
Boom!
The stone bricks disintegrated, and a massive crater opened in the ground. Dust and smoke filled the air, obscuring everyone's vision in an instant.
Within that dust, severed limbs were ground to pulp and tossed out, mixed with nauseating bits of human remains.
To ensure a hit, Lorenzo hadn't bothered to avoid his own men with that strike.
Though it seemed cruel, the result was all that mattered!
Watching the mangled limbs fall, Lorenzo couldn't help but flash a gruesome, unrestrained smile. Although he couldn't tell whose parts were whose, no one had ever survived a direct hit from that move. Therefore...
"So, in your eyes, human life really is just a trivial thing?"
A rich, mellow voice drifted out from the dust, devoid of any emotional fluctuation.
Lorenzo’s expression froze instantly, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head.
How... is that possible?
A mere pampered noble brat, and only at the Second-Tier... how could he...
As the breeze from the riverbank blew through, the dust gradually thinned, and that figure reappeared in his sight.
Muen’s expensive clothes were in tatters, hanging off him like rags. There were several gruesome gashes on his waist, abdomen, and arms—some so deep that bone and internal organs were visible. They were clearly fatal wounds, yet no blood flowed from them.
Instead... they were burning with red flames!
Muen seemed not to feel the agony of his injuries. He gently tapped his two still-pristine white blades together. An Alchemy Domain composed of electric arcs expanded, completely walling off the dust and debris, while simultaneously severing the aura of the Withered King.
"Now then..."
Muen lifted his eyes. His gaze, as calm as a lake, fell upon Lorenzo, who had begun to tremble with renewed terror.
"Mr. Lorenzo, are you equally indifferent toward your own death?" he asked softly, as if inquiring about a trivial errand.
But to Lorenzo, it sounded like the whisper of a demon. His face, a mask of fury and horror, twitched violently. He roared desperately, barking orders for his subordinates to charge Muen at all costs.
"Quick! Get him!"
"Don't be afraid! He's just a pampered noble brat, there's nothing to fear!"
"He must have used some expensive potion or magic device, but the effect is wearing off! Kill him, now!"
"If he lives, not just you, but your families will be dragged into this!"
"You have no way out!"
The Red Fire Gang elites, no less terrified than Lorenzo, looked at each other before gritting their teeth and charging Muen. Lorenzo, however, used the chaos to quietly slip toward the rear.
"In that case..."
Muen lowered his eyes indifferently and dropped into a crouch. Shadow Step!
His body became a blur as he lunged into the crowd.
The disparity in weaponry and technique was impossible to bridge.
Earlier, the sheer number of attackers had forced Muen into a stalemate.
However, Lorenzo’s intervention had actually helped Muen break that deadlock.
It was like a tiger entering a pack of wolves.
What was once one-against-many became brief moments of one-against-two, one-against-three, or even one-on-one.
Bolstered by Shadow Step, Muen nimbly kited the gang elites, forcing them into a situation where they were essentially lining up to be slaughtered one by one.
Blood continued to spray. The magic armor they relied on was useless; once the mana was depleted, the armor was only slightly sturdier than normal clothes. That level of toughness was like paper before the absolute sharpness bestowed by a Grand Magister.
Muen simply swung his blades by instinct. Swing, swing, and swing again.
Killing, killing, and killing again.
In the Black Book, his Dagger Combat Technique had long since evolved to LV10, and the text had turned pitch black.
Muen didn't know what that signified, but he felt his movements had reached an unprecedented level of ethereal precision.
Thus, no one could stand in his way.
"How... how is this possible? How is he this strong?"
Watching Muen move through his men as if they weren't even there, Lorenzo wasn't just wide-eyed anymore—he looked ready to gouge his own eyes out.
You’re telling me this is a pampered Duke’s son?
I feel like he’s more practiced at killing than I am!
Look at that efficiency—every strike hits a vital organ. You don't get that good without killing hundreds of people!
Lorenzo began to regret everything.
Perhaps he shouldn't have let fear cloud his judgment and tried to kill him immediately.
Perhaps if he had kept a hostage, he would have had more room to negotiate.
Perhaps if he had just knelt and begged for mercy, it would have been better.
Perhaps... but there were no "perhaps" left.
He had underestimated the strength of this Duke’s son, just as Muen had underestimated the audacity of these Lower District rats.
Everything had already happened.
And for things that have already happened, not even the gods can change the outcome.
"It’s... it’s not over yet. I still have a trump card."
Watching his men fall like wheat before a scythe, Lorenzo muttered with a pale face:
"Do it... now! I’ll pay double! No, triple!"
"Wind spirits of the distance... Mother of Slumber... Sleep Spell!"
As Lorenzo’s mutterings fell, Muen heard a faint, ethereal chanting. It finally reminded him that among Lorenzo’s group, there was a hidden mage.
The unremarkable man was hiding at the very back, rapidly chanting a spell.
Muen moved to dodge, but two men suddenly lunged at him with suicidal desperation, pinning his feet.
Because of this, the spell was a guaranteed hit.
No matter how powerful you are, once you take this hit, you’ll be a lamb for the slaughter!
With a confident smirk curling the mage's lips, the powerful debuff magic—capable of putting even an Overlord-class magical beast into a deep slumber—erupted from his hand as a bolt of dark green light, shooting instantly toward Muen.
Splat.
Like a drop of water hitting a glass dome, the spell slammed into the outer edge of the Alchemy Domain and... nothing happened.
The world went silent.
"Ah, I almost forgot. The Domain has that function too."
Muen was momentarily stunned himself, then he shook his head with a smile. After cutting down the two men beside him, he used Shadow Step to appear directly in front of the mage.
He stared into the mage’s dull, shocked eyes and said seriously:
"You should have used attack magic."
With that, he swung his blade and took the mage's head.