Chapter 123: The Face Thief

-: Face Thief caused major chaos
-[OP]: For fuck’s sake… How do I fix this rep?

-: You actually don’t really have to.
-[OP]: For real? No penalties?

-: Yeah, they all got wiped out in the chaos Face Thief caused anyway.
-[OP]: Oh lol that’s awesome

-: …Is it really awesome though?
-: That’s the mindset of someone fully optimized for this shitty game
-: But honestly, that’s the correct approach, yeah.
There’s no way to clear suspicion with the knight order or help them out.

Magnus, Deputy Commander of the De Villan Knight Order.

His instincts—refined to the level of a master swordsman—were screaming.

Move!

He’s shaken because his strike missed!

You need to rush in, right now!

In real combat, where life and death are decided in a single moment, the thing a swordsman must trust most is the instinct forged from experience.

Crack!

Magnus’s grip on his sword tightened.

His weight shifted forward, ready to pounce at any moment.

“Damn it—”

But that was as far as he got.

Even as battle raged on, Magnus’s rational mind, now familiar with the unreasonable existence known as the Face Thief, held him back.

The Face Thief could wield the sword techniques of multiple swordsmen within a single body.

Among the five—no, more—sword styles he displayed, Magnus had already recognized the Hero’s sword technique.

And now, during this fight, Magnus’s own technique had been added to the list.

The sword Magnus had honed for decades… was stolen in just minutes.

The rumors were true.

He really could observe a 7th tier swordsman’s technique once and steal it instantly.

A monster who could replicate what geniuses took decades to master within a single moment.

Could such a creature really make a mistake?

Could he actually fail to steal someone’s sword technique?

Unless it was a Swordmaster’s technique, that was unthinkable.

That’s why Magnus hesitated to press the advantage.

Why he hesitated to face the Face Thief directly.

No, he feared him.

Magnus clearly recognized it now.

The unease he had felt toward the Face Thief had grown into fear.

Step.

He found himself instinctively stepping back.

What the hell was that sword just now…?!

That last strike.

It was more dangerous than any technique the Face Thief had used so far.

It might have been more dangerous than all his techniques combined.

More than the Face Thief’s ability itself.

Magnus unconsciously touched his neck.

Had he ever felt death so vividly before?

Had he ever faced such a lethal sword?

Probably not.

If he had… he wouldn’t be alive today.

Magnus could no longer deny it.

The real reason he couldn’t get close to the Face Thief…

Was because he had felt fear toward that unnamed sword technique.

A strike without form or style—meant solely to kill.

In that moment…

The confidence of a master, who believed he could dismantle any sword technique, was shattered.

That sword was not something he could handle.

“…!”

Then it happened.

Magnus’s face twisted in shock.

“Huff… huff…”

The Face Thief’s condition was… strange.

He, who had never lost composure while wielding any technique, now had uneven breathing.

Not due to fatigue, but to overflowing emotion.

That was not the look of a swordsman in control.

The Face Thief…

Was being consumed by the sword.

A flawed sword he had not fully imitated.

The Face Thief staggered back unknowingly.

What is this?! What the kind of sword is this?!

Some sword techniques can consume their user due to their overwhelming power.

They are called Cursed Swords.

The Face Thief was once the master of an assassin guild.

Having lived a life of strict self-discipline for many years, he had reached a level of control and restraint few could achieve.

It resulted in the unique constitution of the Faceless One.

That was why even after accepting countless styles and the will of countless swordsmen, his spiritual world steadfastly remains his, thus he retained his sense of self.

That’s why—

He couldn’t accept this.

I… I, of all people… my spiritual world is being overtaken?!

“Huff… huff…”

His breath continued to escalate beyond his control.

His pupils dilated, and his blood surged.

His heart pounded.

His rational mind faded, leaving instincts to take over.

His current conditions was like a beast driven mad by the scent of blood.

“Hahhh… hahhhh…!”

The Face Thief felt a desire unlike anything he had ever known.

The desire for blood.

“!!!”

He stabbed his own palm with his sword.

To use the pain to regain clarity, to suppress the rising instincts.

To regain control of his own spiritual world.

“…!”

But something unbelievable happened.

The torn skin, the flowing blood—

The pain didn’t calm him.

It only fueled the urge for violence.

The sharp scent of blood was so tantalizingly sweet to his mind.

He was seized by an urge to smear the blood across his face.

“AAAGGGHH!!!”

The Face Thief screamed to shake off the impulse.

What the hell is this sword?!

What kind of human could carry such a spiritual world?

What kind of swordsman could tame such a monstrous blade?

He was certain.

The owner of this sword… was no human.

Surely that person was a devil—or something akin to one.

How could that mage wield such a horrifying sword so freely?

He didn’t know.

But there was one thing he did know for sure.

In this moment…

The Face Thief’s confidence—that he could copy any sword—was shattered.

This sword… was not something he could endure.

“…!”

I must never use this cursed sword again!

Magnus took advantage of the Face Thief’s struggle and widened their distance.

“…!”

The Face Thief, too, used the chance to retreat even further.

And just like that, as if by silent agreement, the two vanished from the scene.

A shadow—of a murderer that no longer exists in this world—had driven away both the Hero Slayer and his pursuer.

“Now that I think about it, Clana… mind if I ask you something about the sword?”

The Hero Slayer.

A monster who could copy the unique techniques of 7th tier swordsmen by seeing them once.

Tua’s warning that such a being might come after me had shaken me to the core.

I immediately returned to my room and began sword training.

While warming up, I decided to ask Clana for guidance.

—What is it?

Clana answered with her usual cynical tone, but she still manifested properly to face me.

“I know it’s a little late to ask, but are there any precautions I should take when using your sword?”

—Precautions?

“Yes. After finishing my enhancement technique, I realized something… any technique that pushes your limits tends to have drawbacks. So I wondered if your sword might be the same.”

—…

Clana glared at me with all her might.

“…What?”

—Do you really feel nothing when using my sword?

“Of course not. I feel it every time I use your sword technique. Deeply.”

—…You do feel something?

“Obviously. It’s such a powerful and convenient style. Every time I take someone down in one strike, I feel it in my bones.”

—…

Ah.

The little Murderous Fiend looked up and sighed.

“Wait? Am I doing something wrong?”

—Shut it.

Clana said that and immediately vanished into the inner world.

“Hey! Clana! You can’t just tell me there is a precaution and not what it is! Don’t you know that’s one of the two most maddening things a person can do?! The first is not finishing your—”

—You inanimate wench! Are you trying to trouble our noble Mastah?! Know your place!

—Please. Just… shut up, both of you.

For some reason, Clana had grown distressed, and refused to explain why.

In the end, I had no choice but to continue my sword training alone.

Since I still hadn’t achieved 7th tier insight, there was only one thing I could practice.

Training to maintain my enhanced state while using Clana-style.

“Kuhak…!”

How long had it been since I started training?

Blood was gushing from every orifice in my face.

Trying to wield her power in an enhanced state… was far harder than I’d imagined.

Forget the complexity, the strain on my body was absurd.

Using this in actual combat as freely as I’d hoped… would be the equivalent of rage-quitting and giving away all your loot.

About 5 seconds.

Maybe a single strike.

That was the current limit allowed to me.

A decisive strike. I should only use this when I have no other choice.

The so-called, a finisher.

Still, being able to use this ridiculous technique, even in a limited way during real combat, was a blessing in itself.

The result of giving my all in training was, in its own way, satisfying.

– You inanimate wench!!! Because you didn’t lend your help, Mastah is now disheartened!!!

– If that’s enough to dishearten him, then nothing would ever satisfy him.

– Of course!!! Mastah is destined to reign over all that walks on earth!!! Things like satisfaction? He has no use for such!

“Come on, Dan’Galeon. Honestly, I’m feeling pretty satisfied right now. This enhancement technique works really well with the Clana-style. To be honest, if it were a different sword style, I probably wouldn’t even be able to use it properly.”

– Just as I expected! What humility! What restraint!!! Truly one of Mastah’s many virtues!!! Hey, inanimate wench! Rejoice and show gratitude! Mastah has bestowed a far too generous evaluation on your pathetic flailing!

– Hey. If a situation arises where you need to use that ability and my sword technique together in battle, make sure you never exceed one strike.

“Understood. I came to the same conclusion.”

– My god, this sense of exclusion…! Mastah!!! Please, grant me the same grace and mercy you gave that inanimate wench…!!!

“Grace and mercy?”

– Please let me, Dan’Galeon, pour my blazing flame into your vast vessel, Mastah!

“Flame? Oh, you mean that black fire—”

– It is not black!!! You must have mis-seen it in the dark!

“Hm…”

Truthfully, I was intrigued.

The black flame Dan’Galeon used during the back-alley meeting was devilish in its power.

The problem was… it was too devilish.

Unquenchable black flame? That’s just too demonic, isn’t it?

Even the back-alley boss who used the artifact imbued with Dan’Galeon’s power was suspected of being a black mage.

That said it all.

“If I go around using that power recklessly, wouldn’t people start suspecting me of being a black mage or a devil worshipper?”

– Mastah!!! How could you say such a thing…! Are you ashamed of devils!?

“Isn’t that normal?”

– Impossible!!! Then I, the sacred flame that vanquish all evil, Dan’Galeon, hereby renounce my devilhood!!!

“…Wait, is devilhood even something you can quit just because you want to?”

Apparently, Dan’Galeon’s sense of exclusion(?) was genuine.

His desperate persuasion continued relentlessly.

Most likely, he wouldn’t stop until I agreed.

So I had no choice but to learn how to use his black flame.

It was, without question, a powerful and useful ability depending on how it was used.

– The filthy gaze of vermin can be silenced with your radiant brilliance, Mastah!

And just as Dan’Galeon said, any suspicion brought on by using that power could be quelled with my radiant brilliance.

For the record, in this context “brilliance” meant discernment — the ability to know when and where something was appropriate.

“Well then! Let’s give it a spin.”

– That’s the perfect mindset to approach devil power with.

– You! Inanimate wench!!! Watch your words!!!

Clana scoffed, and Dan’Galeon shrieked in horror.

He was probably afraid her words would change my mind.

– A devil, you say!!! How dare you lump me in with such vile and vulgar beings!!!

Ah.

So that was what bothered him.

– If you don’t take that back immediately, I’ll curse—no, bless—no… urgh! What the hell am I supposed to do!? What does a sacred, non-demonic being do in a situation like this!? Mastah, please guide me…!

“I don’t know, but I heard love is stronger than hate.”

– GRAAAAAAH!!! INANIMATE WENCH!!! I LOVE YOU!!! DIE!!!

– My god. I was wrong, just, please shut up.

To think I would see a devil going through an identity crisis…

I watched the rare spectacle from my bed, easing the fatigue of training.

“Hm?”

My sense perception, still partially active from training, picked something up outside the door.

Multiple presences. Rapidly approaching.

– Click!

The door burst open without even a knock.

I wasn’t surprised, having sensed it coming.

What surprised me was who the uninvited guests were.

“Lady Tua?”

Tua, now changed into casual clothing from her armor.

Behind her stood several knights, presumably members of the De Vilan Knight Order.

I stood up in surprise.

Tua raised a calming hand and spoke.

“Apologies. We’ve committed a breach of manners to clear up a misunderstanding someone had about you.”

Then, she gestured to the middle-aged man beside her.

“Let me introduce him. This is Magnus, the deputy commander of our Knight Order. He claims he was lured into a fight this afternoon by someone who looked exactly like you.”

Didn’t seem like it was anything too serious.

Tua made an effort to reassure me.

In return, I joked to show just how reassured I felt.

“Someone who looked just like me? Handsome guys like me aren’t exactly common, you know, haha.”

“As you say, someone as handsome as you isn’t common.”

To my surprise, Tua nodded seriously at my joke.

She then turned to Magnus.

“Magnus. As I’ve told you many times, Risir has been in this mansion all day. I vouch for his identity. Please stop doubting him.”

“…”

Magnus looked me over, then reluctantly nodded.

Ah, so that’s what this is.

I was starting to understand the situation.

I said to Tua,

“Don’t tell me… that face thief guy stole my face and pretended to be me?”

“That’s right.”

“Wow… When did he even steal it…?”

I was genuinely horrified.

To think he stole my face and impersonated me without me even noticing.

If Tua hadn’t personally vouched for me, I might’ve ended up clashing with that deputy commander, Magnus.

Getting into a fight with a senior officer of a Knight Order?

Just imagining it made me dizzy.

“Hm?”

Then, a thought occurred to me.

It had been quite some time since Tua and I parted ways at Drey’s room.

And ever since leaving that room, I’d been alone in mine.

It would’ve been plausible to suspect that I’d snuck out and caused the incident.

Which raised the question—

Why did Tua, instead of thinking I might be the face thief, immediately assume I was being impersonated?

How could someone with her personality trust me without the slightest doubt?

I asked her that very question.

Tua then gave a meaningful glance at Magnus.

Magnus looked awkward.

“Kuh—”

“…”

The knights nearby struggled to hold back laughter.

“It was thanks to the face thief making a dumb mistake.”

“A dumb mistake?”

“Yeah. While impersonating you, a mage of the Gray Tower, he used sword.”

It was so ridiculous that even Tua, normally cold and composed, cracked a smile.

Seeing their stern captain smile made the other knights burst into laughter.

Even Magnus, the one who’d been attacked, let out a chuckle as if it were too stupid to take seriously.

“…”

I cautiously asked Tua,

“Lady Tua, did Sir Drey not tell you anything about me?”

“You know how that guy gets when he starts bragging about his people. He was about to drag me into a whole monologue despite how busy I was, so I had to cut him off. Why? Is there a problem?”

– Mastah’s brilliance has guided them to the right path!!! As expected!!!

“N-no… You did the right thing…”

I averted Tua’s gaze.