Chapter 116
Chapter 116
As I rose to my feet once more, the spectators in the stands could not hide their shock. In their eyes, Ran Winterbell, who had looked no different from a walking corpse, had somehow stood up again and was moving in ways that made no sense.
“To be able to stand again after such injuries—h-how is that even possible!? That’s monstrous recovery. No… is it sheer willpower?”
“He’s a once-in-a-generation monster born with the blood of Winterbell and the Halla Clan. It’s almost tragic that he lived as a half-cripple all this time. No matter what we imagine, he’ll show us something beyond it.”
“Even so…! Anyone with eyes must have seen it! That wound just now was so severe it’s strange he’s even alive! His whole body was drenched in blood—how is he moving like that…!”
“As I said earlier, Arkan Winterbell. There must be a reason he hasn’t passed judgment.”
“…L-look over there!”
One of the spectators pointed toward the training ground. Everyone’s gaze turned there at once.
“……”
“……”
“……”
“……”
Everyone’s mouths fell open—wide enough to unhinge their jaws. Yet not a single person managed to speak. Something unbelievable had happened. Even after seeing it with their own eyes, they could not accept it.
Just moments ago, Ryan Winterbell had been overwhelming me.
And now—
His left arm…
His left arm had been severed!
Only a handful of people in the audience had properly seen what happened. The reason was simple.
From the moment I drew my sword to the instant I cut off Ryan Winterbell’s arm, not even a full second had passed.
It all occurred in a fleeting instant, and there were very few who possessed the dynamic vision necessary to follow it.
Of course, those from the Winterbell Family, the Helios Family, and the Imperial Family witnessed the scene clearly.
An explosive draw.
Beast-like movements.
Bloodlust that blanketed the surroundings.
That was unmistakably Ran Winterbell.
Yet the very person who had cut off Ryan Winterbell’s arm—me—was utterly bewildered by the situation.
‘It was cut this easily? Not anyone else, but Ryan Winterbell?’
Ryan Winterbell’s severed arm, leaving behind an unbelievably clean cut, rolled across the training ground floor. And yet, despite that, his expression did not change in the slightest.
With a numb, emotionless face like a doll that had lost its feelings, he merely alternated his gaze between his arm and me.
He didn’t even let out a scream of pain.
It was grotesque.
“…Heh.”
“?”
“Hehehehehehe.”
Why is he laughing all of a sudden? Has he lost his mind?
At that moment—
A voice suddenly rang inside my head.
It wasn’t spoken aloud.
A voice meant only for me.
Sent solely to reach me.
I didn’t know how he was pulling off such a trick when he shouldn’t even be able to use mana, but there was something far more important right now.
-You really aren’t Ran Winterbell.
This lunatic…
He was certain that I wasn’t Ran Winterbell.
I didn’t know what gave it away, but it was definitely not good for me.
‘It seems he became certain after crossing swords with me… Is it because I refined my swordsmanship using the experience from when I was Van Descartes?’
At that moment—
Ryan Winterbell gripped his sword with his remaining arm and charged at me.
Swoosh—!
Ryan’s blade tore through the air.
A flash-like strike flew toward my neck.
The trajectory drawn by his sword embroidered the air like a streak of silver lightning. Even after losing an arm, his sword grew even sharper.
Blood was still pouring from the wound where his left arm had been severed, yet the blade gripped in his right hand was incomparably more precise than before.
As if all his strength and focus had been condensed into that single arm.
If anything, it was faster and more powerful than before.
Swordsmanship that was more refined and deadly than when he wielded it with both hands.
A body that should have lost its balance had instead become even more perfect, and the sword swung with one hand carried even greater force.
‘This is insane…’
My eyes widened.
My instincts sensed danger.
This was no longer human swordsmanship.
It was impossible, by any common sense, to understand how someone who had lost an arm could produce such power and speed.
It was as if losing that arm had removed his shackles.
Something beyond the realm of humanity—perhaps as if he had transcended human limits altogether.
‘This is possible? What the hell is he hiding?’
A continuous barrage of sword strikes poured down like a storm.
Sharp blows that never stayed in one place.
Like lightning striking over and over again, an unending chain of killing strikes.
It was completely different from his previous White Wolf Slash.
There was no longer the elegant hunt of a wolf, nor the cold chill of a snowy mountain.
Instead, the madness of a rampaging beast dominated his blade.
A pure killing sword that had cast aside all rules and forms.
There was no longer any technique or aesthetic form to be found—only pure killing intent and madness remained.
A frenzied killing sword dance driven by instinct rather than technique born of reason.
The embodiment of pure killing intent that had surpassed human limits.
Swoosh—!
Ryan’s blade grazed my neck.
That flash-like strike attempted to slice through flesh.
A lethal blow, like the venom of a viper.
I barely twisted my body to evade it, but even in that moment, the next attack followed.
It was as if the loss of his arm had pushed his concentration to the absolute limit. Every sense, every ounce of strength, every trace of killing intent was focused into a single sword.
As though the arm he had lost had been nothing more than a shackle, his swordsmanship had become even freer.
“Hehehe…”
Ryan’s maniacal laughter echoed out.
It was no longer a human laugh.
For some reason, meeting his gaze sent chills down my spine. An indescribable emotion surged within me.
“I should be the one asking. Ryan Winterbell. What exactly are you?”
“What do you mean, what am I! I am the great and noble eldest son of the Winterbell Ducal Family—Ryan Winterbell!”
“No. From what I see, you’re a fake. Just wearing a shell.”
My sword glowed red.
At first, it was a faint crimson, but it gradually deepened into a darker red.
A red aura flowed along the blade like living blood. It felt completely different from the previous Blood Flower Great Divine Art.
This time, a new swordsmanship—different even from the Blood Flower Great Divine Art—began to unfold.
No longer a secret art of the Halla Clan, but a unique swordsmanship created by me alone.
Based on the blood energy of the Blood Flower Great Divine Art, yet infused with the experience of Van Descartes—a technique of an entirely new dimension.
Blood Slaughter Dance.
A sword that danced with blood.
A dance of death created by living blood.
Perfectly controlling the madness of the Halla Clan,
while preserving its fundamental destructive power—
the ultimate truth.
A swordsmanship born from the experience of Van Descartes and the blood of the Halla Clan.
With the insight gained from thousands of battles in my previous life, I subdued the madness within the Halla blood and refined that power into something even sharper.
This was the true swordsmanship created from two lives.
Swoosh—!
The first strike began.
Along with a sharp blow that split the air,
living blood flowed along the blade.
The blood energy running along the sword writhed as if it were alive.
What initially looked like faint veins gradually thickened, transforming into something like the form of a dragon.
Each time I swung the sword, that blood energy moved as if it had a will of its own, coiling and dancing through the air as it followed the path of the blade.
With a single strike, dozens of bloody traces were left suspended in the air.
Vivid red trajectories, as if painted with a brush.
Before the line drawn by the first strike could even fade, the second and third strikes carved new ones.
Each blood mark contained its own independent killing intent, and as they intertwined, they formed a deadly web of slaughter.
“You spout nothing but nonsense!”
“Do you really think it’s nonsense? That calm face of yours is now stained with panic.”
“Puhahaha! You’re struggling desperately!”
“Brother. That act of yours—stop it.”
Like a painting drawn in blood, the trajectory of my sword embroidered the space.
The red lines left in the air crossed and overlapped, completing a grand image. Under the moonlight, it was both a desperate and beautiful sight.
Like an ink painting made of blood, it was a sword dance that embodied the artistry of death.
Ryan’s cold shout echoed across the training ground.
“Winterbell Style Tenth Decisive Technique.”
Cold Moon Slash.
Contrary to his frenzied voice, his sword was as cold as moonlight. Even with one arm lost, his posture did not falter in the slightest.
The silver blade gleamed like moonlight.
A cold, clear radiance like the moon in a midwinter night sky.
Every time the blade moved, frost formed in the air, and ice crystals bloomed and shattered in its wake.
A freezing aura burst outward.
In an instant, the temperature of the training ground dropped below zero.
As if Ryan himself had become the moon of midwinter, cold frost bloomed around him.
The trajectory of his sword cut through the air like cold moonlight.
A single movement created dozens of crescent moons.
The silver trails, like moonlight, overlapped and formed a cold net of death.
KWAANG!
The two swords collided.
At the moment my red blood energy and Ryan’s blue frost energy clashed, an intense flash burst forth as if two moons had collided.
As blood and ice met, crimson energy and blue frost exploded outward. The two opposing forces tried to devour each other, and the resulting explosion shook the training ground.
“Stop spewing nonsense and reveal your true form! You who wear the shell of my younger brother, Ran Winterbell!”
“…What bullshit.”
Ryan Winterbell’s maddened shout rang out.
His voice now sounded completely devoid of reason, yet his sword only grew sharper.
Even more powerful strikes followed.
Despite having lost an arm, his blade became even more lethal. As if all the strength of the lost arm had been concentrated into the remaining one, his attacks were incomparably stronger than before.
Swoosh—!
Ryan’s sword flashed like lightning.
A sharp, freezing strike descended toward my left arm.
It happened in an instant.
Before I could even react, the blade tore through flesh.
The sound of bone being cut rang out.
Slash!
My left arm was severed from the shoulder.
Blood burst out like a fountain from the clean cut.
The severed arm spun through the air.
Clang!
Behemoth, which had been in my grasp, slipped free from my hand. The arc drawn by the sword gleamed silver under the moonlight as it flew toward the edge of the training ground like a falling star.
Thud!
Behemoth embedded itself deep into the ground.
A third of the blade dug into the floor, and from the impact, the stone surface of the training ground cracked like a spiderweb.
A groan escaped my lips.
“Urgh…”
Blood continued to pour from my shoulder,
and it dyed my black martial robe a deep crimson.