Genius Swordsman of the Mage Empire

Chapter 152. The Truth (2)

The dark night’s battle inside the ruined building unfolded one-sidedly.

Butcher’s dual ice-pick wands were designed to dominate debilitated victims at close range, tailored for his unique magic. He prided himself on excelling in close combat, confident in his prowess.

And why wouldn’t he be?

His trade was butchery—the slaughter of useless non-mages.

To maximize fear and crush resistance, he’d killed countless debuffed victims with these wands in myriad ways for the Scavengers.

It was simple. Under [Debuff], victims were exhausted, barely able to move limbs, let alone fight.

As Butcher, he wielded body-enhancing magic, overpowering foes with superior physicality—a massive advantage.

It should’ve been the same this time.

It had to be.

“…How?”

Butcher’s lips twisted under his square mask, grinding his teeth.

Unable to comprehend the scene, he roared.

“How are you moving like that, freelancer?!”

I charged forward, silent.

Butcher frantically raised his arms to cast a magic circle, but a blue-black flash outpaced him.

A glass-shattering crack echoed as the circle shattered, scattering light particles.

“M-Magic block?!”

Shock contorted his face, but it didn’t last.

I slashed, forcing him to dodge my blue-black strike.

“W-What… are you…?”

Realizing his evasion was imperfect, Butcher looked down. Blood gushed from his torn robe, and he clenched his teeth.

I gripped my sword two-handed, staring calmly.

My strength was drastically reduced.

The [Debuff] made my body feel waterlogged, heavy. My power was maybe a third of normal—possibly less.

Without my magic resistance reagent, I didn’t want to imagine the outcome.

Even now, it was bad.

The Last Sword Saint’s mana-bursting forms, [Explosive Sword] and [Fire Wheel], were usable but risky. In my weakened state, using them would leave me vulnerable, unable to recover. Only perfect timing would do.

But this was enough.

I aimed my sword, locking eyes.

It was sufficient to overwhelm the Scavenger Butcher grimacing before me.

“No way!”

Unconvinced, Butcher swung his ice pick, closing in.

I thrust my sword forward, countering.

The fight turned to ultra-close combat.

But the gap was clear.

Dodging his strike, I grabbed my blade one-handed, wrapping his wand and arm, crushing them.

A technique to seize life-or-death control.

Slammed to the ground, Butcher, sensing mortal danger, swung a wand behind me.

Kicking him back, I retreated as a mana bullet grazed my visor.

A brief gap opened.

Kneeling, Butcher aimed his wand. Twin magic circles stacked at its tip, forming a cannon-like barrel.

“Die!”

A deafening blast fired, kicking up dust and debris, a blinding beam shooting toward me.

But I’d moved the moment I saw the circles.

Darting through pillars and rubble, I flipped mid-air, the beam grazing my side.

Butcher’s eyes bulged at my physics-defying move.

“What—?!”

Narrowly dodging, I landed, sliding forward, slashing horizontally.

Clang! Metal screamed as his wand sparked, its top half spinning away.

“Gah!”

Landing behind him, I hooked his neck with my sword’s crossguard, hurling him into a wall.

The devastating impact shattered bricks, debris flying.

“Guh!!”

Butcher gaped in agony, collapsing to his knees.

He tried rising, but staggered, likely concussed. Clearly incapacitated.

I flicked blood from my sword, stepping forward.

Glancing back, Butcher crawled, screaming desperately.

“No! I-I don’t wanna die! Not me!”

“You casually told Ronto you’d kill him. Now you’re scared?”

Pounding the ground, he shrieked.

“Guh! I’m not like those filthy non-mages I’ve killed! I have talent!! I’m worth surviving in this world!!!”

Talent worth surviving.

Approaching the writhing, hateful figure, I glanced at my sword.

Its mirror-like blade reflected my blue-black eyes through the visor.

Oddly, his words hinted at how Enoch was treated in the past.

“No way I’ll die here!!”

Bleeding from his mouth, Butcher cackled, pulling something from his pocket.

I paused, raising my sword.

A desperate move in a cornered state. Unsure of his intent, I couldn’t rush in blindly. I needed to see what he held.

An artifact? Hidden gear? Recovery potion?

Anticipating all possibilities, I advanced cautiously.

“Khaha! I-I got a special drug for this!”

But what he revealed shattered my expectations.

I muttered unwittingly.

“A special drug…?”

Recognizing it, my thoughts froze. It had to.

A thin rectangular syringe.

The mana emanating from its clear cartridge was unmistakable.

A glowing green liquid.

Deep, swamp-like green.

Tantalus’s mana.

I realized instantly. This was the clearest clue to the beast outbreaks in the 19th district.

Butcher flicked open the syringe’s piston cap.

“It’s not over! This serum, for Resolution Day. If I’m compatible, I’ll—!!”

With a mad grin, he plunged the glowing green syringe into his neck.

His veins pulsed green, his body convulsing wildly.

“A-Aaagh!!”

Amid his pained screams, I crouched, sword gleaming darkly.

“That serum.”

I whispered through my visor.

“…Where’d you get it?”

***

No answer came through his screams. Clutching the ground, convulsing, Butcher seemed deaf to the world.

“With this, I’ll be stronger. Prove myself in this damned world!!”

He roared, voice boiling.

Staggering up, he gathered mana, attempting a spell.

“Guh!”

But he collapsed, vomiting green-tainted blood, trembling uncontrollably.

“No, it can’t…!!”

His body swelled, flesh twisting, inverting, tearing as if a demon emerged, transforming into a beast.

A human-shaped beast.

His ice-pick wands and robe melded into his body, forming sharp, black carapace spines on his hands.

The horrific sight triggered a memory, chilling my spine.

The joint mission in the beast-kin village.

I’d seen something similar.

During the fortress assault, Leontos injected a liquid into his wound, doping via ‘beastification.’

His enhanced body grew exponentially stronger, nearly transforming into a beast. This was likely similar.

Why did he have this serum?

Before I could dwell, I raised my sword, assuming stance.

The experimental beast rose, charging at blinding speed.

It rammed shoulder-first.

Barely spinning aside, I dodged.

The beast smashed dozens of wooden crates, sliding to a stop.

A direct hit would’ve pulverized me. Simple, but fast and strong.

Roaring, it charged again.

My body wouldn’t respond normally. I could only leap back.

Missing me narrowly, the beast’s green-glowing eyes glanced back. I accelerated my thoughts calmly.

What was happening?

With Tantalus dead, his research should’ve stopped. Only mindless beasts should remain.

Yet its regeneration outpaced any of Tantalus’s creations. Clearly an upgraded version from the beast-kin village.

The situation was dire.

I gripped my sword tensely.

Weakened, I couldn’t use [Explosive Sword] or [Fire Wheel], my mobility-based combat core.

How to defeat a multi-fold enhanced foe?

A memory flashed like lightning.

I might already know the answer. I’d ‘inherited’ such a precedent, in vivid detail.

—A silver-armored knightess. The Sword Saint of the Waves.

She wielded her longsword without strength, far weaker than my current state.

During our Inner World duel, I’d found it baffling, so I remembered clearly.

Though powered by mana, swordsmanship relied on physicality—strength to execute sword principles. Was it her unique style?

No, too convenient an excuse.

A Sword Saint wouldn’t ignore such basics.

“…”

A realization widened my eyes.

—What if she didn’t choose to fight that way?

What if she had to?

A piercing gust snapped me back, and I leaned back as razor claws slashed past. I gripped my sword tightly.

No time for deeper thought.

Dodging the beast’s enhanced kicks by instinct, its rock-like fist grazed my ear.

Spinning my sword, I severed its arm.

But the stump writhed, regenerating instantly, swinging a new fist.

I tried dodging again.

But it didn’t aim for me. Its devastating punch shattered the floor, splintering wood like shrapnel, grazing my limbs, drawing blood.

The beast’s eyes gleamed coldly, locking onto me.

It had read my evasion.

Unlike Tantalus’s mindless beasts, it was learning my patterns.

Intelligent?

As I leapt back, it swung again. Off-balance, I couldn’t dodge.

I had to deflect.

Rotating my sword, I used [Reverse Flow].

But my vision blurred, my body hurled back at insane speed.

The overwhelming force sent me tumbling, crashing through crates, slamming into a wall.

“Guh!!”

Vomiting from the impact, I realized my mistake.

The sword flew from my grip on impact. I’d failed. That wasn’t true [Reverse Flow]. I hadn’t redirected the force.

Clutching my chest, I gasped.

The Sword Saint was weaker than this. Barely able to swing. Yet she fluidly countered, redirecting my attacks.

I wasn’t there yet.

My understanding and replication of her skill were lacking.

A fundamental question hit. How did she reach Sword Saint with such frailty?

Such softness.

Did she perfect her weakness into a sword?

“Ugh.”

My legs still worked. Wiping blood from my mouth, I stood. One failure wouldn’t stop me.

That wasn’t why I’d survived.

The beast charged, shaking the ground.

Recalling the knightess’s stance from the World of Impermanence, I crouched slowly.

The worst conditions. Weaker than usual, unable to use the Emperor’s forms. Yet I had to replicate her sword now.

But it was doable.

I’d realized, near certain.

Like a clear, flowing stream, I needed to use no strength, focusing solely on redirecting the foe’s momentum.

That was the essence of the Sword Saint of the Waves’ sword.

I understood her sword better in this powerless state.

It was always such a sword.

She was such a Sword Saint.

Breathing deeply, I focused on the cold blade.

Entering a mirror-still state, I read the foe’s flow.

The beast thundered forward.

Its fist surged straight at me.

Lowering my stance, I raised my sword diagonally. The silver blade gleamed coldly.

A counter stance, blade angled at the foe.

As the beast closed in, time slowed.

I closed my eyes.

In silence, I struck.

[Reverse Flow]

The sword traced a fluid arc, meshing with the beast’s charge, redirecting it sideways.

Its massive energy—charge and punch—reversed, the fist sliding off the blade’s flow.

At full speed, it lost balance, soaring past me, crashing through crates, obliterating a wall, leaving a crater.

Seizing the moment, I spun, surging mana, charging.

A horizontal slash hit its thick neck. Weakened, the flaming blade dug shallowly, stopping.

As it countered, clear flames erupted from the blade.

Longer than the Sword Saint’s, my longsword’s flames surged like waves.

Flames that cut even immortals.

The intense fire heated the blade red. The beast’s eyes widened.

I spoke.

“You said talent worth surviving?”

Staring into its twisted, green-glowing eyes, I added.

“You don’t decide that.”

Gripping the blazing sword, I surged mana thrice, flames flaring, tracing a vast circle in the dark.

A firestorm erupted, banishing the darkness.

[Fire Wheel]