Ch.497Guide Dirade

The leader, who clearly tried to make a grand entrance, was in for a disappointment. What warrior wouldn’t strike when a defenseless enemy appears before them?

The moment I saw him, I unleashed Durandal, activating my Tale of Heros.

Though I didn’t use my full power to Defy Fate—as killing just one wouldn’t end this—it was enough to pierce straight through his chest.

The blade of my longsword penetrated his heart and protruded from his back.

“Kuhak…!”

The giant spat blood filled with Dark Mana.

Standing just over 2m tall with statue-like muscles, his skin was stained with Dark Mana, covered in mottled fungus, and he had four eyes.

His body reeked of a fishy stench mixed with the foul odor of monsters.

Like the others, had he merged with monsters? With not a single hair on his head, he could hardly be called human anymore.

“Kh…urgh…!”

He was bare-chested, apparently overconfident in the Dark Mana armor enveloping his body.

Before Durandal’s blade, armor of Dark Mana or Mana meant nothing—to me, he was just an unpleasant exhibitionist.

At least attempting some modesty, he wore ornately decorated leather around his lower body, which looked distinctly like Werebeast hide.

Anyway, after piercing his heart, I tried to slice through his torso by pushing the blade sideways.

Immediate death from a heart stab would have been ideal, but this world was full of tough creatures that wouldn’t die so easily.

This one was no exception.

“KAAAAARGH!”

Faster than I could slash Durandal horizontally, the Dark Mana surrounding his body exploded outward, sweeping in all directions.

The impact felt like being hit by a carriage. My body flew backward.

It was a technique meant to push me away rather than kill me, and with my light weight, I couldn’t resist being thrown back.

So he wasn’t dead after all. What a shame. I’d missed an easy finish.

Whirling my body forward, I reversed my grip on Durandal and drove it into the floor to stop my backward momentum.

The marble floor cracked and tore as dust scattered everywhere.

Using the sword like a staff, I landed on my toes with my waist half-bent. My body still pushed back by the force, my boot soles screamed against the ground with friction.

“That face… you must be Haschal Median Aishan-Gioro! Attacking without even a greeting—as befitting the Empire’s greatest whore, utterly despicable!”

The guide shouted, blood streaming from the gaping hole in his chest.

A cultist rapist calling me despicable? What a hypocrite. Then again, if he had a conscience, he wouldn’t have become a cultist.

“Tch, isn’t it proper etiquette to die when a blade pierces your heart?”

I clicked my tongue in disappointment as I pulled Durandal from the floor.

His egg-like face was contorted like testicles from what must have been immense pain. Though he could still talk, there was no sign of his heart wound healing.

That was to be expected. Wounds from a true silver blade cannot be healed by impure powers. Even Isabella and Rurik had to use different methods.

Isabella either died and resurrected or blocked attacks with insect bodies, while Rurik detached parts of his body before they could be cut.

Without such bizarre methods, the only way to heal wounds from a true silver blade was through a priest’s miracle—or waiting for natural healing.

In other words, this creature would likely resort to something bizarre as well.

“Too bad, but this wound is nothing! I am Direid, Guide of Eternity, one who walks through eternity toward ascension!”

The bald underwear-man who called himself Direid laughed heartily and stretched his left arm to the side.

His forearm elongated like a snake and grabbed one of the cultists attacking the carriage. The movement resembled a snake striking its prey, matching Ceylon’s sword speed.

“Huh…?”

The startled cultist turned to look at Direid. Clear terror filled his bulging eyes.

“The time has come to guide you. Become one with me and live an eternal life!”

With a smile like a proud father looking at his son, Direid retracted his elongated arm, pulling the cultist right in front of him.

Before the cultist could say anything, Direid’s other hand plunged into his chest and ripped out his heart.

“Kheuk…!”

The cultist convulsed and went limp, dying instantly. His heart continued to pulse. Hot blood gushed from the roughly torn vessels.

“Now, behold the greatness of the Path to Eternal Ascension!”

Direid dropped the cultist’s corpse and thrust the beating heart into his own chest.

His chest split open and devoured his subordinate’s heart. Blood vessels and muscles writhed like worms, connecting together as the open chest squirmed closed.

And so, Direid regained his heart. Not regeneration, but replacement. In a way, similar to a healing miracle, though far more explicit and disgusting.

—-

I hadn’t just stood watching him recover. Quite the opposite, though I’d unfortunately failed.

As soon as Direid grabbed the cultist, I rushed toward him with my sword. However, three executives, reinvigorated by their leader’s appearance, swarmed to protect him, causing me to be a step too late.

One with crab-like arms covered his entire body in carapace and swung a scorpion tail from his side; another had his lower body completely transformed into a mass of tentacles like an upside-down sea anemone.

The one with a tentacle tongue had grown two additional tentacles—disgustingly protruding from his eye sockets.

What kind of freaks were these?

[Truly repulsive appearances. If I could, I’d close my eyes.]

‘I know.’

Hersella muttered with contempt, sharing my sentiment.

Anyway, after ripping off the scorpion tail and repeatedly dodging and cutting through dozens of tentacles, Direid had completed his regeneration.

“Did you see clearly? This is the power of bonds! We support each other as we move toward eternity!”

“Well, I think that’s your delusion.”

Madman’s nonsense. If that was a bond, then Frider and the Werebeasts might as well be called family. No different from an armed robber claiming to receive voluntary donations.

I gripped Durandal and charged toward Direid. The true silver blade flickered with golden inscriptions, rippling with blue afterglow. The distance closed in one breath. Direid laughed heartily and intensified his Dark Mana.

“Hahaha! Join me on the journey to eternity!”

Black energy rose like waves, enveloping his body. This wouldn’t be the Mana armor I’d already broken through—probably some combat ability.

“Go to hell!”

Watching his transformation keenly, I swung Durandal at his exposed neck.

– CLANG!

A clear metallic sound. My lightning-fast blade was blocked by his right arm. What had been a human forearm moments ago had transformed into a massive cleaver-like weapon!

Or perhaps closer to a greatsword. The rectangular blade blocking Durandal was as long and thick as my height.

His transformation didn’t stop at his right arm. His entire body except his head was covered in gleaming scales, and his left arm had grown so long it touched the ground, with a third arm sprouting near the elbow.

“GEEEEEK!”

A goat-like muzzle burst through his lower abdomen, emitting a long cry. Judging by the green fluid dripping from it, it would likely spew acidic liquid.

Three tentacles as thick as forearms writhed from between his legs, beneath the Werebeast hide—their original form preserved in a truly disgusting way.

He looked more like a hybrid monster. Nothing human remained except his head.

Even his head wasn’t truly human. The completely hairless scalp proved his inhumanity.

[Blocked, was it? Seems tougher than expected.]

Hersella showed interest. Perhaps the sturdy body reminded her of Orhan. Thinking of her father while looking at such an abomination—truly the thoughts of an unfilial child.

“Behold. This is the first step toward eternal ascension, a body that transcends the limits of humanity!”

“You look absolutely disgusting. Even breeding monsters with monsters would produce something better than you.”

An honest assessment. From what he said, he seemed to have attached monster parts to transcend human limitations. The concept might be understandable, but the result was hideous.

“Everything is ugly during evolution. Therefore, you too shall become part of me and complete me, Haschal Median Aishan-Gioro!”

Direid pressed down harder with his greatsword. I tilted Durandal to deflect his blade, and immediately three tentacles shot toward me.

One aimed for my face, while the other two targeted below my waist… specifically my groin. Was this guy insane?

The obvious intent was so revolting that I instinctively activated Defying Fate, kicking his side and jumping back.

– THWACK!

It felt like kicking a wall of black iron. Those scales were definitely tough.

“Where are you running to!”

As soon as I retreated, he withdrew his tentacles and swung his elongated left arm like a whip. The force matched Rurik’s strikes. The nails at the end gleamed like beast claws.

“Then stop fighting so disgustingly!”

My true silver blade, filled with rage and disgust, deflected his claws with a flash of light. The impact was heavy.

– SLASH!

As Direid’s claws gripped Durandal’s blade, the third arm at his elbow stretched out, targeting my eyes with bullet-like speed. I was a beat too slow to withdraw my sword and respond.

“How dare you!”

I jerked my head aside to avoid the fingers aiming for my eyes, then bit down on his forearm and tore it off. A foul taste filled my mouth.