episode_0063

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Deafening explosions echoed in all directions, as if bombs were detonating.

Blades clashed. Under the dark night, crimson, pale green, and azure lights intertwined.

At a glance, it was a beautiful sight. But this spectacle was the aftermath of destruction.

Han Yuseong stared at his enemy.

‘I’m being pushed back.’

This wasn’t good.

He was the one relentlessly attacking, yet with every strike, he was the one being forced back.

On the surface, it seemed like he was the aggressor.

But in reality, despite expending mana, fighting spirit, and stamina, he hadn’t managed to wound Diago even once.

‘……I used it too hastily.’

A pang of regret struck him.

Yuseong gritted his teeth as he thought.

He had inflicted some damage.

Dark Moon.

And he had stolen something from Diago, disrupting his stance.

“……You. What was that technique just now?”

Diago glared at Yuseong and spoke.

Boom! Boom!

Blades clashed again.

Despite Diago’s frivolous tone and loose lips,

‘He’s like Erme.’

He attacked while defending, defended while attacking.

A swordsmanship where offense and defense were perfectly balanced—neither leaning too far in one direction.

-Orthodox swordsmanship, huh.

‘Orthodox?’

-The kind those bastards wield. It’s been a while since I’ve seen it. The swordsmanship of those who don’t lean toward any extreme.

Indeed.

Elven swordsmanship leaned toward speed.

Orcish swordsmanship leaned toward brute strength, though it still incorporated technique.

‘The stronger and faster I get, the more powerful I feel, but…’

This was different.

-But something’s off.

‘What? Spit it out!’

Responding internally to Rishiel’s words, Yuseong deflected the incoming blade.

It was heavy.

Every parry sent a shock through his bones.

-Those who master orthodox swordsmanship usually have a composed, dignified aura.

‘What are you talking about?’

-That guy’s the same. One of the Demonkin’s defining traits is missing.

‘Demonkin traits?’

-Sanity… They lose half their reason and wisdom. But that man, despite being simple-minded and loose-lipped, doesn’t show any signs of it.

‘Then…’

Did that mean he wasn’t a Demonkin?

Meanwhile, Diago, locked in combat with Yuseong, furrowed his brows.

Yuseong found Diago overwhelming, but…

Diago found Yuseong irritating.

‘……This brat.’

His swordplay was evolving.

Adapting, countering Diago’s techniques.

His blade grew sharper, more sinister.

‘Does he think he’ll become a Sword Demon?’

Diago smirked in disbelief.

Talented individuals always excited him.

……Which made it all the more tragic.

‘To possess such talent at such a young age, only to tread the path of evil.’

But talent didn’t always align with character.

Even the brightest gifts could become calamities if wielded by corrupt souls.

Diago’s gaze darkened.

He would have to snuff out this radiant talent with his own hands.

‘This happened not too long ago, too.’

Diago steadied his resolve.

The being before him was undeniably evil.

The darkness that had clashed with his strike moments ago.

And in that moment—

‘He did something.’

A portion of his fighting spirit and mana had vanished.

This was usually the mark of a Gift, and from what he knew, such Gifts were typically held by demons or other dangerous beings.

Which meant this brat was—

Diago adjusted his stance.

He had no intention of finishing this with a single decisive blow.

Instead, he would chip away at Yuseong’s defenses.

The safest, most efficient method.

Whoosh!

He swung his greatsword, cleanly deflecting Yuseong’s slash.

Then came the kick.

‘……Already?’

Yuseong had stolen his swordsmanship and movements.

A monster.

Diago was reminded of two figures.

His two former disciples.

One had talent but a rotten character.

The other lacked talent but had a good heart.

And if this brat was the former…

Before it was too late—

‘With my own hands.’

He would end it.

—

The relentless exchange of blades left Yuseong breathless.

Then—

Whoosh!

A surge of killing intent exploded outward, so intense it felt like his skin was peeling.

‘……Now I see.’

Level 5.

And among the highest tier at that.

-Run.

Rishiel’s voice rang in his mind.

-You can still escape. Head toward Vulcan.

‘Quiet.’

Yuseong silenced her. Of course she’d worry about his life—his death meant she could never revive.

He’d run if he could, but…

‘……I can’t.’

A strange sensation whispered to him.

Just a little more.

‘I feel like I can win.’

One arm hung limp—the one holding Whisper of the Wind.

‘One hand’s barely moving.’

Then he’d discard it.

Gripping his bloodied sword with both hands, he steadied himself.

“Here I come.”

Diago spoke, then lunged forward like a fired cannonball.

‘Fast……!’

Yuseong’s eyes widened.

He moved his sword. Blocking head-on was suicide, so—

‘I’ll steal his speed.’

Absolute Theft.

His unresponsive hand seemed to reach into something, and—

Diago’s speed visibly dropped.

Crack.

But it wasn’t without cost. His head throbbed as if splitting open.

Blood gushed from his nose.

“You—more tricks!”

‘Tricks? Hardly.’

Ignoring Diago, Yuseong swung. The speed was still overwhelming, but now barely manageable.

At least—

‘I’m faster too, matching what I stole.’

So he could react.

Dodging Diago’s slash, he gripped his bloodied sword and—

Stepped forward.

Reached out.

Please.

Just once more.

Something to turn this fight around.

‘……Steal.’

Absolute Theft.

Blood streamed from his nose. Something wet trailed from his eyes.

-Y-You—!

And what his hand grasped—

Brilliant light erupted.

A radiant sword.

—

‘……Took longer than expected.’

Erme sighed, carrying Celia on her back.

Fortunately, the enemies here were merely annoying, not strong.

But their nuisance had delayed her.

‘If they’d been the troublesome ones…’

Then wherever Yuseong was, a far stronger foe must be waiting.

‘……’

An odd feeling settled over her. What if something had gone wrong?

‘……No way.’

Rebellion’s main forces weren’t here.

They operated in scattered cells.

Even if high-ranking members appeared, it wouldn’t be a major issue.

The Guild Master, Vulcan, and Mist would handle it.

With Celia on her back, Erme sprinted toward the orphanage.

Boom! Boom!

The sounds of battle grew louder as she approached.

Azure and crimson lights flashed alternately.

A seasoned swordswoman, Erme instantly assessed the situation.

‘Yuseong’s being overwhelmed?’

How could such a monster be here?

Drawing the Champion’s Sword, she dashed forward.

Crimson energy condensed around the blade, elongating it.

And then—

A blinding light erupted.

Yuseong stood, gripping the Holy Sword.

And—

“Master…?”

Her master was there.

—

Diago frowned at the voice.

His former disciple—the one with little talent but a bright heart.

“It’s dangerous. Stay back.”

“Why are you fighting him?”

“This brat is a Demonk—”

“Nonsense! If he’s a Demonkin, then most of the Empire is!”

“What are you—? You didn’t see the evil technique he used. He stole the Holy Swo— Huh?”

Diago finally noticed something strange.

“Why is the Holy Sword…?”

Before he could finish—

“Gah— GAAAAAH!”

A scream tore through the air.

Exposed to the light, the shadowy figure mimicking Celia began melting away.

“……No.”

The Holy Sword of the Hero.

The one he had been safeguarding to pass on to the next Hero.

And the Holy Sword vanquished evil.

Merely its light made beings of the abyss and the Demon King’s servants writhe in agony.

“……Dear gods.”

Diago finally understood.

The one he thought was evil was the one fighting evil.

And the one he had been protecting was the evil all along.

‘No, but…’

Something still felt off.

The Holy Sword.

A weapon that had only ever yielded to her—that arrogant woman.

Yet now, it blazed brilliantly in this man’s grasp.

“Yuseong?”

Erme called out, sensing something strange.

Yuseong hurled the Holy Sword away.

Gripped his own blade with both hands.

“My apologies. I’ll make it up to—”

“Shut up.”

Yuseong ignored Diago, who only laughed.

“That girl—your party member?”

“Y-Yes. She is.”

Yuseong tore off his mask.

Violet eyes, glowing vividly in the night.

Making it all the clearer.

Erme stared at his eyes and thought—

His pupils…

‘They’re rolled back?’

Before she could react, Yuseong pointed his sword at Diago.

“Pfft— Pffhahaha! You’ve got quite the eccentric party member!”

Diago laughed.

If Yuseong wanted a fight, he’d oblige.

He raised his greatsword.

This wasn’t how he wanted it to end, either.

Yuseong charged.

And—

Slashed.

Diago felt something strange.

‘……What is this?’

An illusion overlapped with Yuseong’s stance.

Meanwhile, Yuseong’s eyes were glazed over, entranced.

The crisis was resolved, but he felt like he could gain something more.

So he attacked.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

His swordplay transformed.

Already swift and sharp, it grew even faster, even deadlier.

Diago realized—his own techniques were being assimilated into Yuseong’s.

But—

‘Still far off.’

Chosen by the Holy Sword.

That meant Yuseong shared qualities with his disciple.

There were things he disliked, though.

Unlike his disciple, Yuseong was proactive in eliminating evil—good.

‘But he uses demonic techniques.’

Stealing others’ abilities.

Someone with his talent couldn’t be a candidate for the Thief Hero.

‘I’ll fix that habit.’

Diago grinned, blocking Yuseong’s strikes.

And the result should’ve been—

“A fine sword, boy.”

Yuseong’s defeat.

Or so he thought.

Diago raised his blade.

Some instinct—something primal—urged him to fight.

‘What is this?’

An oppressive presence emanated from Yuseong.

His sword moved sluggishly.

Profound Heaven.

And darkness surged, towering into the sky.