Chapter 122 : Chapter 122
Chapter 122: Taparel (5)
“Swelling Flame. It belonged to that Marquis. Ah, he is a Duke now, I suppose. Humans are always fast. They grow fast, and die fast. To be a Duke already. I myself am still a Marquis.”
“If you’re so jealous, why don’t you become human too.”
“I am in the process of doing so.”
Simurtr clenched his outstretched hand.
The White Flame that had been surging on the pillars exploded. A basic technique called Detonation in Bahab. The screams of the spirits swept away by the roar were buried.
“It is quite different from that Duke’s fire. Indeed. Your relationship with Bahab was not very good.”
Even though dozens of spirits had been blown away, Taparel was calm. New spirits appeared in all directions before he knew it.
“Your presence is faint. It must be because you have lost all your past achievements. That magic. That soul. If not for those, I would not have recognized you as Sir Exa.”
“Then why didn’t you pretend not to know and go on your way?”
“How could I possibly do that?”
The spirits do not perish.
No matter how many times you cut them down and blow them up… as long as Taparel is safe, they will manifest again in this world.
‘I need to screw that bastard over.’
The authority of the Doom Species.
Unlike Phantasmal Ability, it is not manifested with magic, so it cannot be reversed with Origin.
‘That bastard was good at screwing over spirits too.’
Akarr’s Swelling Flame.
She was Taparel’s natural enemy. The blue fire would cover the entire battlefield.
Even if Taparel’s spirits appeared endlessly, she had the power to burn and explode them continuously.
…Compared to that, the White Flame is shabby.
Simurtr’s flame is based on Haryun Bahab’s, not Akarr Bahab’s.
Spreading the flames, detonating them. That’s it. Haryun’s coming-of-age ceremony is next year. She has not learned Bahab’s secret techniques.
‘5-star. At my current level, I can’t imitate Akarr.’
The output of the White Flame surpasses Bahab’s Swelling Flame.
But it’s not to the extent of rivaling Akarr’s flame.
It was a false honor obtained through betrayal, and she had always lost to Exa… but even before that, Akarr was revered as the slaughterer of the battlefield.
‘I’m also short on magic.’
It can’t expand continuously either. To cover the temple and maintain it until Taparel tires… his magic is still far too insufficient.
“It is a pity, Sir Exa. There has never been a human as wondrous as you.”
“Ptooey.”
“But you are still human. You are different from then. You must build it up again, I suppose.”
“Nonsense. As if he was strong from birth.”
“I was. Though not as much as Sir Exa.”
“Good for you. For being a monster bastard.”
“Haha. Coming from anyone else, it would be high praise, but coming from Sir Exa.”
“No, you bastard.”
Simurtr was still operating the Swelling Flame, and had killed the spirits hundreds of times.
During that process, he consumed one line of Pagna.
‘Now 4 lines.’
The magic flowing from the Pagna to his heart.
Before he could even feel the satisfaction of it, he rotated the magic again.
The faltering flames flared up fiercely again. The newly manifested spirits are engulfed in the flames and let out screams.
Those screams themselves are no different from an attack. They distort the senses and agitate emotions.
It is the reason why Taparel was called the Leader on the battlefield of his past life. That authority, those spirits, annoying from one to ten.
‘It’s not comparable to during the war.’
But… it had weakened.
Even at this moment, the spirits cannot overcome the White Flame.
Recalling the time Taparel defied Akarr, the wailing of the spirits now is endlessly serene.
He could block it without difficulty even at his current level.
“In the past, if it were you from the time close to the end of the war, I would have lost my body the moment our eyes met. But I am still alive. You have weakened much.”
Taparel’s expression was quite strange.
It was distorted, but it seemed like he was laughing and also crying.
Simurtr didn't want to interpret that expression. A pure white Sword Aura cut through the top of Taparel’s head.
“Bahab’s Swelling Flame. It is presumed to be a stopgap measure to fill a void. It is excellent, but it does not suit you.”
“Shut up and.”
The body he had cut down had already scattered into smoke and disappeared. A newly appeared Taparel a few meters back waved his hand.
“That. That’s Phantasmal Ability, right?”
“Are you asking even after we have already spoken? Sir Exa. I did not know you would become a human who stalls for time during battle.”
“Cut the crap.”
“That is correct.”
“Who is the Matrix?”
“Indeed. Your eye for things is as sharp as ever.”
Taparel’s mouth, which had been pretending to be sad, split wide.
“Semenu Degrate. It is the same as your unit member.”
“There was dust of the first generation left?”
“Since you went to the Black Tower, did you not already surmise? From where could Nurmakan Degrate have gotten his inspiration? If not from Kua.”
Somehow.
Simurtr clicked his tongue.
The rotation of 5-stars. Even with that Sword Aura, Taparel’s illusion is not dispelled. He may have weakened, but a Marquis is still a Marquis.
Although his authority has weakened, that man has obtained a new weapon called Phantasmal Ability.
“You really need to die here.”
Of all people, the same as Semenu.
That fact made Simurtr endlessly displeased.
“That would be troublesome. I have taken quite a liking to this body.”
In an instant, the surroundings became packed with spirits.
A hand gesture. Simurtr recognized it immediately. Among the spirits that filled the space without a single gap… an illusion was hidden.
‘Still clumsy.’
That hand gesture is not a deception.
He is using it as a trigger for Phantasmal Ability. Proof that he is not yet accustomed to Phantasmal Ability.
Without needing to deceive with illusions… Simurtr does not resist. The countless spirits overlap each other.
They bite and claw at Simurtr’s entire body. His limbs are torn by countless claws, and the sharp teeth that rummage through his entire body chew and swallow even the falling intestines.
“Sir Exa!”
The spirits, stained with flesh, bone, blood, and intestines, suddenly disappear. The shouting Taparel closed the distance.
‘Now.’
The Simurtr who had been scattered in pieces dispersed like smoke.
White Phantasmal Color. The vanished Simurtr took shape behind Taparel.
‘Neck.’
The process takes place in an instant.
The expansion of the White Flame stops.
He immersed himself in the sword. He had learned Phantasmal Ability by taking Asha, and mastered the White Flame through Haryun… but Simurtr’s essence was the sword. It had been so since he was young in his past life.
A line of Pagna is erased again. What fills his heart rotates through the circuits. 5-star.
Facing Taparel, the first full-power sword strike he performs digs into his neck.
“Fuck.”
That feeling in his hand.
At the emptiness, Simurtr widened the distance again.
Taparel’s neck. Where his head had fallen and become vacant, a green Phantasmal Color rises. A green light rises from the fallen head, and it disappears without a trace.
“…You have even mastered Phantasmal Ability. Sir Exa. You, of all people.”
At some point, a head has grown back on his neck.
His lips were trembling.
“Not content with Bahab’s Swelling Flame… this worthless Phantasmal Ability. You, who walked a single, pure path.”
Then he hangs his head. He is disheartened.
Like the people of a ruined nation from the Doom War, he clutches his chest in sorrow.
“Without needing to rely on such a stopgap measure. In the past, if you had become our compatriot. Degrate’s dust, the authority of illusion. Such things would have been futile. I would have died.”
Taparel.
Was shedding tears.
“Your situation is wretched. Sir Exa. You are devaluing yourself.”
“You son of a bitch. Why are you crying?”
Simurtr shouted.
In that moment, blood rushed to his head.
The very same humans had laughed while backstabbing him.
The very bastard who deserved to be killed, his enemy from his past life, was shedding tears.
“How can I not be sad, Sir Exa? We still revere you. All our compatriots who remember you do so.”
“……”
“Jealousy, envy. Trivial emotions. They are an inner world we do not possess. But the human side was always full of noise. Most of it was aimed at you. And they were nobles, at that.”
“……”
“Sir Exa. On the battlefield, you emitted an ecstatic light. It was more than enough to blind the eyes of myself, the master, and our compatriots.”
“Spit it out.”
“That place now does not suit you. I implore you. Please. Please do not devalue yourself any further.”
Taparel’s words were sincere… but at the same time, they were meant to stall for time.
A Rift. Simurtr saw it. The lines had become denser than before. It looked like it would break at any moment if touched. Its completion was not far off.
‘Soon.’
The man has no intention of fighting.
He is just holding me back with his weakened authority, evading with Phantasmal Ability… and waiting for the Rift to open.
‘At this rate, there’s no end to it anyway. I’m the only one at a disadvantage.’
Burning the spirits is easy.
And it’s even easier for Taparel to manifest them again.
The White Flame naturally consumes magic.
The man can summon spirits forever, but Simurtr’s magic has a limit.
The preceding war of attrition proves it.
Two lines of Pagna were shaved off. Taparel is overflowing with leisure. The authority of the Leader is intact as long as he doesn't die.
‘That bastard has no intention of attacking.’
But that authority has certainly weakened.
The spirits are burned by the White Flame as soon as they are manifested, and their wails have no effect on Simurtr’s senses and mind.
‘I’m the one at a disadvantage.’
The spirits are annoying, but that’s all there is to it. They are not an obstacle. But what about Phantasmal Ability?
The hand gesture, a trigger for Phantasmal Ability, is not used for illusions for evasion. This means he is accustomed to using Phantasmal Ability for evasion.
The rotation of 5-stars cannot dispel his illusions. He had swung Elder dozens of times, but all were blocked.
An evasion skill using Phantasmal Ability. A surprise attack through it also just failed.
‘It’s the same for that bastard; his attacks don’t work either.’
He is not accustomed to using Phantasmal Ability offensively.
The spirits are ineffective, and he has no will to attack.
‘Even if he did, this side has Phantasmal Ability too.’
Just as Taparel dodged all of Simurtr’s attacks, Simurtr was confident he could deflect all attacks with Phantasmal Ability.
Neither of their attacks work. So… at this rate, the Rift will eventually open.
And the moment that Rift opens. Taparel will spread his illusion and escape through the Rift.
‘By the time I dispel the illusion and get out, the Rift will already be closed.’
I have to make a change.
***
The master. And the Star-Breaking Style.
It was like salvation to Exa. The reason he could protect his ideals as a swordsman even after being expelled from Mectera.
Magic is no different. There’s the Star-Breaking Style, isn’t there? Exa was a swordsman. A swordsman who, now that I think about it, was endlessly foolish, choosing to swing his sword more rather than learn magic.
‘I have to learn everything I need.’
If the most precious thing in his past life was the sword, this life is for revenge.
He took Asha. He revealed his past life to Semenu and took Phantasmal Ability.
Thanks to that Phantasmal Ability, he mastered the White Flame. Someday, he will visit Haryun again and acquire even the secret techniques. It’s shameless, and he feels truly sorry to Haryun, but.
‘…Magic too.’
A promise he once made is fulfilled again.
The White Flame does not harm Taparel.
He really doesn't want to learn magic… but reason is preaching about the usefulness of magic in this situation.
He will hide his anger towards Basor and explore magic.
Isn't it an easy task? He has already experienced Bahab.
What could be so difficult about Basor?
‘First, I’ll deal with that bastard.’
First.
‘Pagna.’
Simurtr briefly shifted his gaze to his forearm.
Now 3 lines. Even considering the efficiency of the White Flame, there isn't much time left.
It’s meaningless anyway. Time is on Taparel’s side. Simurtr evolved all the White Flame. He called forth all the available magic.
He is different from Akarr. It is extremely effective when dealing with countless spirits, but the White Flame is still for support when facing a single opponent.
Simurtr decided to ignore the spirits.
‘I’m the one at a disadvantage.’
I don’t want to admit it, but isn’t it a fact?
Taparel is still lost in nostalgia for his past life… but it has already been 21 years.
Acceptance has become not so difficult for the reincarnated Simurtr.
‘Before the Rift opens.’
And the decisive move must be made first by the disadvantaged side.
“Stop. I have no intention of settling life and death with you.”
“Shut up.”
He called forth all his magic.
Simurtr focused on the Star-Breaking Style.
The spirits are newly manifested, screaming, biting and clawing… but it’s an easy task. Pain is just something he's used to.
What about Taparel? The man is staring blankly at him. He is confident he can dodge if a direct attack comes. He has Phantasmal Ability.
So, it means he can focus.
‘One, two, three, four…’
It is extremely easy.
Dujeu’s Secret Elixir was truly a wonderful gift.
‘Five…’
The rotation is smooth.
In Bahab, he should have prepared a more expensive gift for Arnea Dujeu than for others.
He’ll have to find a new gift before returning.
‘Pegna.’
Point five. A half-step from 5-star.
The completed 5-star magic repeatedly rotates through Pegna.
The reaction comes immediately. Ppudeudeuk. A sound of something tearing echoed from the body that had absorbed the magic.
He clenched his teeth hard. He swallowed back the lump of blood that was rising. He has to quickly spit out the amplified magic.
‘Not yet.’
But he doesn't spit it out. It was a common occurrence.
Reincarnation. In fact, he had lived too cautiously until now. So, just once should be fine, right?
‘I have to at least get revenge. That’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?’
Ppudeudeuk.
Ppudeudeuk.
A terrible sound echoes from inside his body. The circuits burst, and the leaking magic stimulates his internal organs, bones, and muscles.
“Stop! Stop. Stop it. We have no reason to do this.”
The one in agony was Taparel.
The sound echoing from inside the body is not small. He was in agony hearing Simurtr’s self-harm.
“There is. You son of a bitch.”
Simurtr.
Looked at Taparel with eyes whose capillaries had burst.
His face is stiff. Pity, concern, fear. Simurtr read the emotions contained within it without difficulty.
‘Fuck.’
They were all fucking emotions.
Ppadeudeuk. A fragment of a molar pierced his tongue. Blood flowed from his open mouth.
‘Who the hell does he think he is.’
Who to whom.
The concern of a Doom Species is just disgusting.
Fear? Then he should make a more frightened face.
‘That son of a bitch…’
The reality that he could only make that kind of expression is sickening.
Akarr Bahab, Aran and Bahel who were forced to become strong because this side had weakened, come to mind.
Wooong! The magic amplified through Pegna pounds his body. Instinct warns him. It clamors to be let out quickly before it kills him.
The greatest magic he has ever created in this life.
‘…It’s so fucking weak.’
He is an enemy from his past life.
With just this, he cannot make that man terrified.
Pagna. A new line is erased. It flows to the heart. The magic circuit complained of discomfort, and he ignored it.
The magic that reached the heart forces its rotation. It was crammed into the circuit that had already burst, torn, and worn out.
Puhwak.
He felt his internal organs burst. Joints dislocated one by one, and muscles twisted. His head spun. He barely caught his staggering body.
It’s comfortable, after all. Wasn't he used to it? Simurtr continued the rotation. What had rotated all five times flows through the spiral of Pegna. He takes another half-step forward.
“I have lost. I will give you the memoir as well. You asked why I was looking for your things?
It was all to find your soul, Sir Exa. But it is enough now. I will not covet it any longer. The Saintess of Ruo, the Prophet Popo. If you wish, I will fetch you what they have of yours as well.”
“……”
“I will not divulge your existence to the master either. If you say die, I will die. So please stop…”
His eardrums had burst long ago.
He couldn't hear Taparel's words.
He could interpret his lip movements… but no. He can't see anymore. His eyeballs just burst.
“Haak.”
He let out the breath he had been holding. His nose and mouth were full of blood, but he managed to exhale somehow.
The rotation of 5-stars.
A trick to compensate for the lack of quality with quantity, created through two rounds of Pagna.
And a half-step forward through Pegna.
The great Star-Breaking magic he had reached for the first time in this life.
It envelops his entire body. The sword grew several times larger. The blade was not visible, covered in Sword Aura. A pure white light illuminated Simurtr and Elder.
…Its presence made Taparel’s hair stand on end.
That magic.
It wasn't actually that great.
If he had faced it with the body and power of his wartime self… he would have felt a sense of alarm.
Yes, a sense of alarm. Just that far.
‘Just… that much power.’
But he can’t handle it with his current body.
Taparel then realized his hands were trembling.
‘…The master will surely punish me.’
The trembling soon spread throughout his entire body.
It's not because he's thinking about the death of his current body. Abina will grant him life anyway. A new body is prepared.
‘How admirable.’
That pure white magic.
Unlike in the past, it doesn't blind you just by looking at it, nor does it stop your heart with its mere presence, but.
“…This is the first time I have seen Elderly handled so roughly. You cannot control it. In the past, you would have scolded yourself, calling it shabby.”
It overlaps. The Sword Saint of the war comes to mind.
The reverence he felt then makes him sing praises. The body has changed, but he keenly feels that it is the same soul.
“I apologize. ‘White Sword Master’ must have been a rude expression.”
He also knows that it is far from what it was in the past.
He knows it has changed. Phantasmal Ability, Swelling Flame. Filth is caked onto the once-noble Exa.
“Haha…”
Nevertheless, the feeling of seeing and experiencing it directly is beyond description.
The outside is adorned with filth… but its essence is the same. A Sword Saint is a Sword Saint. He does not break. He does not bend. He is not swept away by the storms of life.
‘That is why he is Baperr.’
Strength enough to captivate the master, brilliant talent, noble magic, and self-esteem proportional to it.
“I am dead.”
The Rift had not yet opened. Taparel shed tears as he sensed his death.
His eyes and ears were gone, but his senses would still be sharp. The moment he moved his body or felt a hint of Phantasmal Ability, that Sword Saint would react immediately.
“This is the best.”
Taparel’s eyes scanned Simurtr.
The Pagna on his left arm, the Pegna on his right arm, the Elder he was holding.
…Exa Baperr. He would lose the memoir, but he had finally found his existence.
“A fitting gift for the day of the master’s resurrection.”
There is no greater achievement than this moment.
I want to die quickly to appease the Sword Saint's anger, and to report the hero's reincarnation to the master…….
Taparel still shed tears as he looked at Simurtr. The magic that had enveloped his entire body begins to move to Elder.
The body no longer shines. The magic, which had been several times larger than the sword, shrank to match the size of Elder.
Taparel, who had squinted his eyes because of the light, opened them wide. The light is now concentrated only on the sword.
But Taparel’s gaze turned to Simurtr’s face. Burst eyeballs, ears, nose, mouth. Blood flows from all orifices. His face, except for the tip of his nose, is covered in blood.
The body cannot be confirmed. His forearms are exposed, but the rest is hidden by clothes.
‘A pity… but those forearms must be the healthiest parts.’
How many times had that eerie sound echoed from that body? The inside of his body must be in more of a mess than his clothes.
Nevertheless, Simurtr moved as if he were fine. Pook. The sword, containing the condensed magic, stabs the ground.
A familiar sight… experienced many times in the past. Taparel felt as if he had returned to the past.
…He knows the name of this, the act that Exa is about to commit.
Most of the techniques he unfolds are ones that create large-scale massacres.
It is more familiar to the eyes of his compatriots than to humans.
A technique used on the battlefield… only after making the allies retreat far away, or when attacking alone.
“They say Bahab’s Swelling Flame is also suited for the battlefield, but…”
It’s not this wondrous.
I can say with certainty. Taparel has never seen a human more frightening than Exa.
“It is too late to dodge… I must enjoy it.”
Shattering the earth in a radius of several kilometers.
A crude but extremely effective method, which his compatriots jokingly called a great earthquake.
“You called it a secret technique? It has been a long time. I have never heard its name, so I do not know it.”
Star-Breaking Style 1st Form. Pagon.
With the sword as the epicenter.
The earth begins to bulge and rise.
It soon undulates and spreads like a tsunami, reaching Taparel’s feet in an instant.
Woooo. An ominous roar of magic sweeps across the earth. The risen earth bursts, starting from the epicenter. Pure white magic soars up through the cracks in the thick marble.
Kwaaaaang!
All the floors of the temple rise, and the soaring light fills the roofless temple.
It eventually drives out the sunlight and shatters it.
Taparel’s vision was filled with white, and then.
“Ah.”
Darkness.