Ch.194Chapter 194: The Burner (2)

#

It was a crucial moment.

As the relentless assault of the fake one was halted by me.

I stood at a crossroads of whether to enter a phase of exploration to acknowledge this fake one as another version of myself, now that his determination to exclude me had been somewhat weakened.

Well, though I described it as a crucial moment.

Honestly, I didn’t think he would readily accept my proposal.

Even though I kept calling him fake both aloud and in my thoughts.

The longer I faced him.

The more I felt that, regardless of authenticity, many of his behavioral patterns were identical to my past self.

So I had a feeling that he wouldn’t accept my request for dialogue just because his momentum had been broken once.

Of course, no matter how strong that feeling was, it made no sense to give up this hard-won opportunity for conversation based on mere intuition.

“Well? My arm is getting stiff from holding my hand out like this.”

While deliberately speaking in a playful tone, I didn’t neglect my efforts to stir this fake one’s heart.

But as expected.

After standing still for a moment watching me, far from taking my outstretched hand.

SLAP-!!

He struck the back of my hand loudly.

“How dare you mock me!!”

With such a roar, he rejected my proposal.

As I tried to avoid the fake one’s renewed aggressive momentum.

While widening the gap between us that I had worked so hard to close, only one thought crossed my mind.

Ah, of course.

Even though I harbored deep guilt in one corner of my heart.

I was such a twisted character back then, foolishly unable to appreciate the goodwill of those who approached me with kindness.

This reaction wasn’t unexpected, but it still left a bitter taste in my mouth.

One fortunate thing, though.

Even as I rolled on the ground, he didn’t summon his demon sword, Devastator, which he could call forth at will, to cut off my wrist.

The me from that time would have had no qualms about slicing off the wrist of someone who extended their hand so vulnerably.

The fact that he didn’t do that should make me grateful… or should it?

“You talk about mockery? Should I show you what real mockery is?”

After lightly taunting the fake one who had rejected my dialogue request and shown his rage toward me.

I placed my right hand on the hilt of my dragon sword, which I hadn’t drawn once since confronting him.

As soon as I touched it, as if responding sensitively to my will to draw the sword.

Click-!!

With a resounding sound announcing the release of the scabbard’s lock.

Shing

The pure white blade of the dragon sword, drawn with a clear metallic sound, shone brightly under the dim light.

I had somewhat anticipated this, but I drew my sword because I judged that overwhelming power, not words, would be necessary to bring him to the table of dialogue.

[So you’ve finally decided to fight. How about it? Think you can win?]

As soon as I drew the dragon sword, Fafnir’s busy voice echoed in my head, asking about my chances.

‘Rather than winning, I intend to subdue him without inflicting a single wound.’

I answered calmly.

[Hmm, a difficult choice, but not impossible. Good luck.]

After encouraging my decision, Fafnir fell silent again.

As I mentioned in our earlier conversation, I have no intention of killing or hurting this fake one.

Drawing my sword is merely a means to achieve my goal.

I simply aim to break the will of someone blindly following power while consumed by malice.

By showing him how strong someone with something to protect can be.

If this were me right after my regression, I wouldn’t have even dared to make such a judgment.

Thump-!!

The deep, low beating sound from the Dragon Heart responding to my fighting spirit and.

The face of Shizu that appeared as soon as I closed my eyes and took a shallow breath.

Made me feel not the slightest bit like I would lose to the arrogant agent of the evil god standing before me.

Whether aware of my confidence or not.

“Did you regret missing the chance to kill me and finally draw your sword? It’s too late.”

The black light emanating from the helmet covering the face of the fake one, who had somehow retrieved the Devastator from the ground, blazed fiercely as he pointed it at me.

Though his voice still displayed some composure and dignity, the explosive black light from his eyes was itself an excellent weapon pressing against me, as if he felt insulted by me.

In the past, I would have fled without even thinking of fighting an opponent who released such energy before me.

But now, I felt nothing but incomparable joy at the fact that I could cross swords with such an opponent.

Flick flick

I responded to the fake one who revealed his killing intent toward me by lightly flicking the tip of my dragon sword left and right.

Like waving my outstretched right hand back and forth earlier, it was a form of low-grade provocation to stimulate the opponent.

It was an action calculated to sufficiently provoke the fake one who was openly showing his will to exclude me, and.

As expected.

Pause

After momentarily dimming the radiance of his blazing eyes, from the fake one’s mouth came.

“I’ll cut off all your limbs so you can never make such an insolent move again!!”

As his body, revealing his intense anger at my provocation, disappeared from my sight.

I quickly swung my sword toward the point I sensed through feeling rather than sight.

CLANG-!!

With the melodious sound of metal striking metal filling this dark space.

The earnest confrontation began between the agent of the evil god trying to fulfill his distorted will and.

Me, who had taken up the sword for the happiness of those dearer than my own life after two deaths.

#

Sharp.

I thought he was quite skilled when he swung his sword at me while mine was still sheathed.

But now that I had drawn my dragon sword, perhaps he finally considered me an opponent worth his full effort.

The swordsmanship of the fake one wielding the black malice-filled demon sword, Devastator, was growing sharper with each passing moment.

He would dive to the left, then suddenly shift to strike at my right arm holding the sword, or.

Begin with a horizontal slash, then halt at a specific point before transitioning into a thrust aimed directly at my heart.

His swordsmanship was so fluid and powerful that I wondered if my pre-regression self had really been capable of such elegant swordplay.

The swordsmanship itself was already quite formidable, but.

The demon sword, Devastator, as the medium for that swordsmanship, elevated the completeness of his technique even further.

Being cut by the blade was bad enough, but.

Even a mere graze could create a dire situation where my soul might be bound to that demon sword beyond just a fatal wound. Perhaps that was the natural outcome?

But as the trajectory of his demon sword grew sharper.

“Hyup!!”

With a powerful shout, the trajectory of my sword parrying all the paths his demon sword drew also grew sharper.

No matter how forcefully he swung his sword.

No matter how much distorted divinity he infused into his demon sword.

I could predict all his actions.

I could respond to his sword even with my eyes closed.

How should I put it? Fighting him was like crossing swords with my own reflection in a mirror.

Born without the physical conditions for swift swordsmanship.

I had strived to compensate with power what I lacked in speed, and his strikes embodied the anguish of that time so completely.

I had to reassess the one I had dismissed as fake from the moment we met.

Of course.

While acknowledging the quality of his strikes was one thing.

I had no intention of yielding to a sword wielded with such malice.

As he focused on regulating his breathing without closing the distance between us, the black darkness in the demon sword in his hand began to ripple slightly, and then.

“Distortion!”

At his command, the darkness in the demon sword instantly turned the space where our sword fight was taking place into its domain.

Clearly, he seems to be getting heated up.

Seeing him rush into the ‘execution’ preparation that he always performed when about to finish off a strong opponent in one-on-one combat rather than group battle.

Without a doubt, he intends to strike me using this darkness that fills our vision.

Tap tap tap tap-!!

The footsteps emanating from his body clad in heavy armor were too light to be normal, and they were clearly audible.

Moreover, these footsteps weren’t just audible; they echoed from everywhere, making it difficult to accurately determine his movements by sound alone.

First, he drives the opponent into darkness to block their vision.

Then, he induces fear with excessively light footsteps echoing from all directions, making the opponent uncertain when he might close the distance.

And when that fear reaches its peak, when he judges that the execution target can no longer move normally.

The agent of the evil god, whose light footsteps showed no sign of stopping, halts and begins the execution.

After recalling the darkness that had filled our vision back into his demon sword.

“Hyaaah!!”

He delivers a sharp strike meant to split the execution target’s body vertically like firewood.

Normally, most execution targets would see the ominous gleam of the demon sword as the last thing in their lives, but.

Unfortunately for him and fortunately for me.

This sword strike of the fake one, filled with a wave-like, destructive energy.

Appeared excruciatingly slow to my eyes.

So I infused my dragon sword with the fighting spirit dwelling in my body, creating a brilliant light that dispersed the darkness in the demon sword, and then.

Without hesitation, I parried his demon sword as it came down from above.

I saw the darkness in the demon sword—made from another divine metal created by the gods and processed with distorted divinity—instantly fade away.

The slow-flowing time returned to normal as I parried the demon sword.

After confirming that the two eyes visible from within the helmet covering the face of the fake one—whose killing blow had not only failed but who had also lost his demon sword again—were trembling uncontrollably.

“Let’s see that proud face of yours.”

With the tip of my dragon sword, I struck and removed the helmet of the one who was left vulnerable after his major attack failed.

The black iron helmet caught on the tip of my dragon sword was freed from its role of concealing its owner’s face with a dull metallic sound.

“…!!”

Startled by the loss of his helmet, the fake one forgot about our life-and-death struggle and lowered his head, covering his face with both hands.

Considering that I wore that helmet at that time to avoid showing my bare face to others who weren’t beings of the demon realm that I had already stepped into.

The one before me now must similarly be expressing his unwillingness to reveal his identity to anyone.

Anyway, one side had swung their sword with the intent to kill the other.

The other had swung their sword to subdue the opponent.

From that point, it was awkward to call this a life-and-death struggle where identical wills collided, but.

I had knocked the weapon from my opponent’s hand with my own.

And demonstrated that I could threaten his body at any time.

At this point, my victory was as good as an immovable truth.

I won.

Even though I considered it endlessly twisted and distorted, symbolizing the darkest period of my life.

I had subdued the me from that time who possessed undeniable absolute strength through the blessing of a distorted being, without much effort.

Just thinking about it made a corner of my heart swell, but.

Deliberately not showing such emotion outwardly.

After sheathing the dragon sword that had completed its task.

Setting aside my sympathy for the me of that time who couldn’t even properly show his face after defeat.

“This is the victor’s right. Raise your head.”

I exercised my rightful privilege as the victor.

I gave this order believing that meaningful dialogue requires looking into each other’s eyes, but.

As I carefully examined the face of the one who reluctantly followed my words and raised his head with diminished spirit.

I finally realized the true nature of the discomfort and unpleasantness I had felt since first encountering him.