Ch.195Chapter 195: At the Edge of Trials

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As I removed the two hands covering my face, his face was revealed.

It was both the face I remembered from that time, yet also different from what I remembered.

Before my regression, I had gone through countless battles while scraping by as a lowly mercenary.

I had been slashed by swords and bore scars from spells cast by high-level beings of the magical realm, no less numerous than my sword wounds.

They were numerous scars that remained on my face, ones that couldn’t be erased even with potions that maximized physical regeneration, purchased with money I had painstakingly saved.

But when I was chosen as the agent of the Demon God,

When the Demon God asked me what I wanted to do about the numerous wounds on my face,

I said I would leave the scars as they were.

I claimed that the wounds from battle were what made me who I am.

Unlike what I told the Demon God, the truth was different.

At a point when my body, mind, and even soul were already mortgaged to the Demon God,

It was a decision I made thinking that I needed to preserve at least some trace of my human days to continue existing as myself.

Even if people who recognized me as the Demon God’s agent were deeply disappointed,

Looking at my scarred face in the mirror,

Remembering the throbbing of these wounds helped me not lose my humanity, which ultimately made it the right choice.

…But.

Though his entire body was covered in armor, his voice and mannerisms—apart from his speech pattern—were identical enough to my past self to give me a vague sense of recognition, yet this impostor’s face differed from the one in my memory.

The face that should have been so covered in scars as to make my original features barely recognizable had no sword wounds at all.

Instead, his face was disfigured by severe burn scars, taking the place of the wounds I remembered.

Let me say it again.

At no point before my regression,

Had I ever suffered burns on my face.

Then what were these burn marks on this impostor’s face—a face that, despite being disfigured by burns, was still recognizably mine?

As my suspicion about the burn marks on his face grew,

The impostor, who had been compliantly following my demands with a broken will, suddenly closed the distance between us.

“…Caught you.”

With a voice that sounded vile just to hear,

*Whoosh*

He enveloped both hands in pitch-black flames and swung them toward my abdomen.

Though weaker compared to the ominous energy of the demon sword Devastator,

His fists, formed at a precise distance and flying toward me, contained enough power to cause a fatal wound or even death if they hit directly.

“…”

Yet I merely stood there, staring blankly at the fists flying toward me.

[What are you doing? You could die if you get hit—why are you just standing there with a grimace?]

Even Fafnir, who had been silent since the fight began, tried to make me move with a startled voice.

But my gaze remained fixed only on the impostor’s two fists wrapped in pitch-black flames.

Of course, I wasn’t frozen in panic, unable to find a way to counter his attack.

Earlier, when I continued my conversation with him and the sword, I had experienced moments when his movements became infinitely slow.

The same phenomenon was happening now.

The facial muscles of the burn-disfigured impostor, who was certain he would take me down with his vile expression, twitched in slow motion.

And his pitch-black flame fists flying toward me were moving even more slowly.

In a world where everything moved sluggishly, only I could think and move at normal speed, giving me plenty of time.

You might ask why I wasn’t trying to dodge and was just standing there watching his attack.

I can only answer that it’s because I recognized what those pitch-black flames on his fists and the burn scars disfiguring his face were, even though I had never experienced them myself.

And with that recognition,

My intention to calmly face this as a trial, considering every situation I encountered since meeting this impostor as such, was being completely overturned.

Contrary to the calm voice telling me to accept everything I faced,

I was determined to completely annihilate this being flaunting its existence before me, whether it was an illusion or something else.

You might think I’m overreacting to some strange-looking black flames, but

As far as I remember, there was only one being in this world who could create such pitch-black flames:

The Demon God, Desire, who possessed flames that gleamed more ominously than obsidian.

Once I realized that the flames he manifested before me were chillingly identical to those in my memory,

I had no choice but to conclude that, trial or not, I could no longer let this twisted being live.

Unlike me, who never succumbed to the Demon God’s voice tempting me even while sitting on the unwanted throne as his agent,

This impostor, for whatever reason, must have fallen for the Demon God’s honeyed words.

His two fists engulfed in pitch-black flames flying toward me now proved that he had accepted the blessing offered and been reborn as a detestable being who had completely lost his human aspect.

How could I just let this be?

As the thought that I couldn’t stand by and watch him strut before me dominated my mind,

As if responding to my will,

*Whoosh*

Flames also rose from my two fists.

Unlike the impostor’s pitch-black flames that seemed capable of distorting my very concept and everything in the world with just a touch,

The flames forming on my fists were a warm red hue.

They were the same color as the flames that had purified everything tainted by evil with just a touch when I wore the Red Dragon Armor in Night Haven.

I had no idea how these flames had returned to me, but

Now was the time for action, not thought.

So I momentarily halted my thoughts, which were becoming tinged with anger.

“Haaaa!!”

With the loudest and clearest battle cry I had made since confronting him in this space,

I thrust my flaming fist toward his flame-fist that was flying toward my vital point in a cunning trajectory.

In a world flowing infinitely slowly, where only I moved normally, my movements must have seemed impossibly fast to him.

“…!!”

His burn-disfigured face, which had worn a vile smile, filled with shock.

He showed clear signs of trying to urgently change his trajectory to avoid my fist coming to block his, but

It was already too late.

My fist, engulfed in bright red flames, reached his fist before he could change course.

As our fists crossed paths,

An incredibly loud boom, unbelievable for fists made of flesh and blood, settled very slowly in my ears.

And I could see the impostor’s expression, which had shown a vile smile of certain victory despite his burn-disfigured face, being overlaid with pain in excruciatingly slow motion.

You’re getting hit with an even stronger blow because you tried a cowardly sneak attack.

Just as my intense disgust toward this dishonorable being who had forgotten even honor and cried only for victory was about to deepen,

The slowly flowing time finally returned to normal speed.

KWAAANG-!!

The boom that had started slowly,

“AAAAGH!!”

And the scream from the mouth of the one whose expression had been overlaid with pain,

Both played at normal speed.

In the midst of this noisy situation, only I remained untouched by pain.

“H-how…?”

I merely gazed coldly at him as he collapsed, unable to bear the pain, muttering only a bewildered question.

The time had come.

The time to end the life of this detestable being who, despite having my appearance, was more repulsive than I had been back then.

I felt a little regretful about losing the reward that would have come from successfully completing the trial.

But thinking about the harm this despicable being would cause if he returned to wherever he came from,

The thought that I could do without such a reward grew stronger.

“That’s not something you need to know.”

I cut off his bewildered question with a cold voice.

Then I gripped the handle of the dragon sword with my right hand.

CLANK-!!

Though I had only touched it, the dragon sword’s lock released with a loud noise in response to my will to draw it.

“Any last words?”

To my question asking if he had anything to say before I exercised the victor’s right,

The writhing impostor suddenly stopped moving.

“Ha….”

With a sigh filled with incomparable emotion,

“Kill me.”

A desolate voice saying he had no last words reached my ears.

Then I could see him close his eyes, as if he had nothing more to show me.

So, raising the dragon sword in my right hand slowly to eye level,

“I see.”

With these brief words,

I prepared to swing the dragon sword like an executioner’s blade.

It was the perfect preparation for a simple downward stroke.

Unless this impostor, who appeared to have closed his eyes and given up resistance, made some sudden, unexpected move,

My dragon sword would surely sever his neck, liberating him from the hell called life.

One way or another, though I had resolved to kill him for showing such a despicable appearance,

Perhaps feeling both pity and contempt—contradictory emotions—at the sight of him giving up resistance and leaving no last words,

Unlike my initial thought to execute him silently,

“Farewell, my other self. I will not become like you.”

I unconsciously uttered these words as I began the execution.

And at the moment I saw a single tear—so pure and clean that it was impossible to associate with the impostor’s previous demeanor—fall from his closed eyes,

The strength in my arm, swinging downward to execute him, faltered.

-Indeed, you do consider him your own self.

The calm voice that had put me through the trial sounded as if it were right beside me.

No, how can that be?

I did this thinking only to eliminate him, even at the cost of failing the trial.

-Though it was somewhat different from what I expected, I pay my respects to you for calmly accepting another possibility of yourself, however hideously distorted.

I could feel the color in this calm voice resonating in my ears gradually intensifying.

It might seem strange to describe a voice—something perceived through hearing, not sight—in terms of color.

But truly, there was no other way to express it.

-Karl Lanos. I sincerely congratulate you on passing the unprecedented second trial conducted on my whim.

What I felt from this voice resonating in my ears was a red color—one that radiated warmth just by looking at it.

And apparently not intending to stop at just congratulations,

In this space where nothing existed except me and the figure lying on the ground,

Applause from an unknown source echoed in my ears like a reverberation.

Intoxicated by that sound, I briefly looked away, then returned my gaze to its original position.

“…He’s gone.”

The fake…

No, as that calm voice called him—another possibility of myself—had disappeared without a trace, as if he had never been here.

-There’s no need to keep him around when you’ve already acknowledged him as yourself, is there?

Well, I agree with that voice that there’s no need to keep him around, but

I still had an unresolved question.

“What on earth was that? I never took such a form, not even once.”

As I muttered this to myself in a clear voice as if for someone to hear,

“This is the Sword Mound. A place where all manner of time flows can be observed.”

Startled by a distinctly female voice right behind me, I turned around.

“Nice to meet you, Karl.”

I could see someone greeting me warmly—clearly present before my eyes yet impossible to observe properly, as if shrouded in mist.

…Who are you?