Chapter 93 : Chapter 93
Chapter 93: Auction (4)
Simurtr.
No, Exa.
“Serves you right, you bastard.”
I had just stood before Akarr Bahab.
And before that, I had torn down Bahab’s fortress and cut off Hejel’s head, throwing it at Akarr’s feet.
The world, having learned the truth, spoke ill of Bahab. They insulted Basor and the Magic Tower, and threw stones at Ruo.
I scanned my body. I held Elder, and Pagna and Pegna were wrapped tightly around my arms. 8 strands. I had prepared more perfectly than when I had assaulted the Doom Species' fortress.
“You’re the last one. Isn’t it strange? I usually save the best for last. Is it because you were the one who killed me?”
First, I killed Gerehk Mectera.
I killed the loathsome saintess, and tore off the neck and limbs of Basor, who pretended to be calm even in the face of death, and scattered them one by one on the ruined Magic Tower.
“And His Majesty the Emperor?”
“You know, don’t you?”
As I raised my hand into the air, a green Phantasmal Realm opened. Semenu respectfully offered up two heads.
I grabbed them both by the hair and shook them.
“Say hello. Your favorite predecessor and the Emperor.”
“…I can’t believe it. To come back to life from the coffin in the tomb, in the memorial ground.
I was certain I had confirmed your death.”
“Should have checked more carefully.”
I smiled brightly.
20 years. In the deep tunnels of the memorial ground, in a cramped coffin, I woke up after 20 years.
My body was strangely fine. My unique Strong Body didn’t require me to eat, and I could clearly hear the voices of those walking in the memorial ground. I wasn't crushed even under the immense pressure of the earth.
“I cannot understand. For the past 20 years, we have surely grown stronger than you were back then.”
“Bullshit. As if you guys could get that much stronger.”
I dug my way out and found my unit members.
I met my master. I killed the traitors one by one and reached this place.
“How did you kill them?”
“I killed them well, I guess.”
I cut off Gerehk’s head, and split the saintess in half. I tore Basor’s neck and limbs apart evenly.
“I am asking about the process of the battle.”
“What good would it do for you to know that.”
How?
I frowned. I couldn't remember. No, the scenes came to mind.
But I couldn't recall the sensations of that time.
“Are you satisfied?”
“Once I kill you.”
I had suffered considerable injuries, and had cut down many.
Those who followed the traitors, the Emperor’s power, were truly numerous, and I cut down and killed them all myself without borrowing the hands of my unit members.
The ecstasy of that time was vivid. The splattering blood was still satisfying. The fulfillment when I piled up the corpses was indescribable. The traitors’ were even more so.
…But.
“In the end, you couldn’t overcome it.”
I looked at Akarr, who had a deep wound.
He was dying. Blood was spouting from the wound like a fountain, drenching his upper body.
He would soon stop breathing.
That wound, of course, I inflicted it. The Exa Baperr who was already dead and gone.
“Fuck.”
There's no satisfaction.
“Evil Eye.”
Crack.
The world shatters.
***
“I have shown them the moment they desire most.”
The Black Tiger said.
It was a statement made to her master.
The Black Tiger did not expect a reply. Silence was affirmation.
“Bullshit.”
As she was approaching Homer Harkinwagen, a reply came.
Her master did not speak to just anyone, in any place.
A voice should not have been heard. The Black Tiger looked at the source with disbelieving eyes.
A voice that sounded like it had just gone through puberty, Koral's mask, black hair, and black eyes visible beyond the mask.
The one who had noticed the existence of the Evil Eye before the participant Homer Harkinwagen, but had fallen into the Evil Eye along with them due to prioritizing his comrades.
…The one who had escaped the Evil Eye in an instant.
“If you’re going to do it, do it properly. Fuck, so half-assed.”
“There is no information. It seems impossible to specify.”
“You’ve never killed a person, have you? That’s why you can’t even use the Evil Eye properly. It’s quite a rare thing for an illusion type.”
The face behind the mask drew a twisted smile.
Disgusting. It was a moment so longed for, yet so unwanted.
Shown the moment I desired most? While I was longing for my past life's body and killing the traitors, that adjutant bastard was spared.
“Why the fuck didn’t I kill that bastard.”
I didn't desire the adjutant's death?
I let out a hollow laugh. Impossible. I wanted to kill him if I could, right this instant.
That was why that bitch's Evil Eye was a fake. No, it was weak. For a power, its rank was not high. There was no doubt.
“Are you a baron or something?”
“I will take measures again.”
The eyeballs grew in size once more.
Evil Eye. I anticipated the phenomenon much faster. The Star-Breaking Style revolved even before the Black Tiger spoke to someone.
“You think that’ll work again?”
A sword, there was no sword.
‘A Doom Species above a baron.’
Could I break the body of a titled Doom Species without a sword? Rather than ponder, I decided to just try it.
4th Star. A palm imbued with aura snatched at the Black Tiger’s face. Crack. There was a satisfying feel to it.
“Doesn’t work.”
But it was weak. It only managed to shatter the mask. I looked at the Black Tiger, who had distanced itself.
The bare face without the mask was revealed. The hideous Evil Eye revealed the identity of its species.
“A bastard that isn't even fully human.”
The Doom Species.
The higher their rank, the more they resembled humans.
The Black Tiger’s face resembled that of a reptile. Its snout protruded, and scales were still visible in places.
The barons I had seen in my past life were like that. Their rank was low, close to the untitled Doom Species. Yet, because they possessed intelligence close to that of humans, they could run their mouths.
“You know a lot about us…… Yes. I will cease analysis.”
“Who are you talking to?”
It had never killed a human with its own hands. It must have done it with the Evil Eye. It had little combat experience.
I became certain as I beat on the Black Tiger. Its movements were obvious, and its evasive maneuvers were awkward. It took the kicks head-on, as if it didn't know how to defend.
“It’s tough as fuck, though.”
I thought, feeling the heavy repulsion. I couldn't break through with the 4th Star of the Star-Breaking Style.
What if I enhanced it with Pegna? I couldn't be sure. It wasn't something I could do recklessly. The risk was great.
The body has its limits. A weapon was desperately needed… A sword, my gaze turned to Homer.
“Hey, turn that off.”
Homer, standing blankly, was still operating Baekhwa. He was wasting mana like crazy.
Even while lost in the dream of the Evil Eye, the unconsciousness forged on the battlefield was operating his mana.
“I can’t even touch him.”
Thinking back to the old days, it was a level that wouldn't be enough even if I praised him all day, but.
Not now.
“Turn off Baekhwa.”
The sword was with Homer.
***
Homer was.
Shedding tears. The caked blood on his face was being washed away.
“What are you doing?”
“Yes, yes?”
“What are you doing alone. Where are the soldiers?”
White.
He was surrounded by mana from head to toe.
Homer looked at the white man. White hair and white eyes. The appearance with the mana released was unfamiliar, but Homer knew at once.
“Sir Exa……”
Exa Baperr.
The hope who was appointed as a great general just three years after joining the war.
The Sword Saint whose reputation was starkly divided between the aristocracy and the public, who had at some point begun to be revered as a hero by the soldiers.
“What. You know me?”
How could he not know.
Homer was moved. The increased tears melted all the hardened scabs of blood.
“Of course……”
How did he know?
Homer paused. He retraced his memories. Exa Baperr. He had never met him in person. But he had heard countless rumors about him.
The White Sword Saint, his discord with the nobles, the soldiers' respect, the arduous expeditions, the never-failing Baperr, the indebted Harkinwagen… no, the lower nobles, the countless soldiers.
“It’s our first time meeting, what do you mean, of course.”
Homer felt resentful. About what? It might have been his tone. He could have been a bit friendlier.
‘No. Wasn’t he always like that. He may seem that way, but he’s incredibly kind-hearted.’
Was there such a rumor? Homer tilted his head. He didn't wipe his tears.
“I asked where the soldiers are. Aren't you a Harkinwagen? The one who was supposed to be a reinforcement today.”
The conscripted soldiers. Homer Harkinwagen who led them.
The Harkinwagen of the frontier would never disobey His Majesty the Emperor’s command, a mere empty formality.
“…They are dead.”
“All of them?”
“Yes. To the Evil Eye of one above a baron……”
“Where.”
Homer looked around.
A forest where the branches of withered, yet still massive trees covered the sky.
The place where the Harkinwagen conscripts had been defeated was not here. The place where Homer had encountered the baron was further away.
He had ignored the soldiers begging to be saved and had lived alone. The soldiers’ blood had splattered on his armor and stuck to his face, and he had run until that blood had dried.
“You ran away alone?”
Homer’s face turned deathly pale. He had deserted the battlefield. Desertion. It was a crime for which he had no excuse even if he were executed on the spot.
“Name.”
“Yes, yes?”
“What’s your name.”
“Homer…… Homer Harkinwagen!”
“Age?”
“Eighteen!”
“Eighteen? They sent a kid as a commander? What about Harkinwagen? Why didn't he come himself.”
“I’m sorry!”
Thump. Homer hit the ground with his forehead.
It wasn't a struggle to live. He deserved to die. Homer, who recalled the soldiers who had been terrified and fallen to the Evil Eye, prepared for death.
“No, not you, Baron Harkinwagen.”
“But I, the soldiers……”
He was miserable, and he felt sorry too.
Execution was a truly peaceful death. It was something the soldiers who had fallen to the Evil Eye would have envied…….
“It’s fine.”
“Pardon?”
“You did well. What would have changed if one more of you had remained.”
It’s my fault for coming late. I’m sorry.
Homer, who had been trembling and thinking of death, lifted his head. His ears, which had been blocked by fear, cleared.
“Hey.”
“Yes, yes!”
“You did nothing wrong…… No. Just memorize it, Homer Harkinwagen.”
“Yes!”
“You did your best. When you return, if someone asks, answer like that. That you resisted as much as possible but it was no use. That it was ruined because Baperr arrived late.”
“……”
“Got it? Over there. Run straight that way. If you go, there’s Count Bakel who commands like an idiot. Report to that bastard like that. Easy, right?”
“Ah……”
Tears kept flowing.
They weren't salty. He couldn't taste anything.
He had been foolish. Homer remembered running that way, to Count Bakel. He had said as he was told.
Perhaps it was out of fear. He had shamelessly wanted to live. He regretted it. It remained as guilt, and it would not be pulled out for a long time.
“Hey.”
“Yes. Yes!”
…But there was a Doom Species in front of him.
Since when? Homer looked ahead. Evil Eye. A baron with a rather common power. The creature was looking this way. Exa blocked Homer’s sight, the Evil Eye, with his body.
“Turn off Baekhwa.”
He lowered his gaze. The hand that was visible was ambiguous to be called human. The shape remained, but it wavered like mana.
Homer did as he was told. The mana subsided, and the body returned to its original form.
Exa’s hand came closer.
“It’s in your hand.”
Elder.
The sword that never breaks.
The sword made solely for the Exa of the Star-Breaking Style.
“It’s mine. Give it here.”
What was close to scrap molted into a sword as it touched Exa’s hand.
The rust on the pommel disappeared as if for show. The yellowish handle became clean as new as it touched Exa’s hand. The chipped parts grew anew, and the blade boasted its form as if it had just been forged.
“That’s right. This is it.”
As if satisfied, Exa smiled brightly.
The Star-Breaking Style. The mana that had made him be called the White Sword Saint revolved in his left arm, and soon enveloped Elder.
“…The White Sword Master.”
The Doom Species above a baron murmured.
That voice came from a vertically split mouth.
It was split exactly in half, and the line extended downwards. It soon opened wide. From within the rough and hard skin, intestines no different from a human’s poured out.
“Go to sleep for a bit.”
The white phenomenal color.
Homer saw it.
***
“This isn’t it.”
Swinging Elder in the air a few times, I narrowed my eyes.
Then the shape of the sword changed. The blade became a little thicker, and its length increased.
“Ah, that’s it.”
After a few more adjustments, I nodded. It became exactly the same as in my past life. Elder transformed to be exactly as it was back then.
Elder.
My beloved sword from my past life, crafted by my master's friend, the dragon Pagna, from the remains of his sister Pegna.
“It’s been a while. Really.”
Reclaiming it like this brought a new wave of emotion. Nostalgia tinged my eyes as I looked at Elder.
Elder was different from Pagna or Pegna.
As it was made from his sister’s remains, Pagna had wished for Elder to be valuable only in Exa’s hands.
“Maintenance… shouldn't be necessary.”
It doesn't dull, and not a single chip comes off.
It does not break, no matter what it faces.
Elder was that kind of sword. The material composition of the dragon Pegna’s remains had been transformed and entirely compressed into the form of a sword.
That was why the form of the sword could be freely transformed as desired by Exa, who was imprinted as Pegna’s companion.
A sword focused on durability to withstand the power of the Star-Breaking Style, and on Exa’s convenience.
“So it works.”
In fact, I had been certain.
The Dragon’s Contract. When I had encountered it in Degrate.
Just like with the Star-Breaking Style, I was certain that my soul was still imprinted as Pegna’s companion.
Until then, I had been half in doubt.
“Should I just run away like this?”
I looked at the corpse of the baron, then at the three I had forcibly put to sleep. Homer, Haryun, Kanan.
Should I get rid of the body and say the Doom Species took Elder? Not bad. And then I could have Aran or Semenu wrap things up roughly…….
“Wouldn't that cause problems later on?”
The voice came from behind.
In the direction where Haryun and Kanan had fallen.
“The White Sword Master… I see, there’s a reason you’re called that.”
Black Fox.
“The color, too. Though you’re still lacking to be called a Sword Saint.”
Herein Remeter.
***
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
“Does one who has experienced the battlefield let their guard down?”
Jeremiah Abolte.
Had realized that fact long ago.
“Alex Bemal.”
Crack. Jeremiah’s molar shattered.
Spit. The spat-out fragment aimed for the eyes. A laughable resistance. When Haryun was getting her mask, Alex Bemal had come armed in full armor.
“Hella is Bahab’s territory.”
“As if anyone wouldn’t know what even a lowly bastard like you knows.”
The Duke of Bahab.
Akarr knew this fact, knew of Hejel’s scheme. What Simurtr had feared had come to pass.
‘I should have prepared then.’
Even though I had acknowledged that fact, I had taken no particular measures. I should have been more careful.
I should have brought my armor. There was spare armor at the Butcher Shop. Even now?
‘No. It would cause damage. He wouldn't leave witnesses alive.’
Jeremiah scanned his surroundings.
The underworld, Hella. Within it, a particularly squalid slum. He had been pushed this far before he knew it.
‘No, I was led here.’
Alex Bemal wanted to reduce the number of witnesses.
Hella resembled the Black Land. The people near the auction house were probably already bought off.
No one would interfere in someone else’s fight. If anything, they would aim for the backs of the two fighters. With them having been bought off, there was no one to help.
‘My lady.’
Giving up his side, Jeremiah once again fixed his gaze far away.
The auction house. That massive building, visible in the distance, was covered in a black film. He had witnessed something similar on the battlefield once.
‘It’s a barrier.’
He didn't know what kind it was, but the auction house was in danger. He thought of Haryun, who had entered the auction house.
Could he be at ease because Simurtr was by her side?
No. He couldn't. Jeremiah remembered his duty. He was Haryun’s guard. He had sworn an oath as a knight.
He had to quickly finish off Alex Bemal and go to the auction house. He had to protect his lady…….
Stab- His neck, which was just about to turn, stopped. Jeremiah’s wide eyes turned to Alex Bemal.
“Filthy.”