Chapter: 194
Killing intent has a physical presence. It is not a mere metaphor; in this pre-modern fantasy world, it is a verifiable phenomenon.
Even commoners, let alone young soldiers, cannot conceal their killing intent when they pull the trigger; at that moment, the subtle hint of their intent is caught by the superhuman’s enhanced neural reaction, leading to the technique known as line of fire detection.
In the case of superhumans, well-trained killing intent can harm civilians. At that point, killing intent begins to wield clear physical influence as the mana mixed with it starts to affect the world.
Thus, in a world where all forms of aggression contain traces of killing intent…
Enrique, who has been hailed as the greatest thief and assassin in history, established a special training regimen for her disciples.
Refining killing intent. Controlling all types of emotions to an extreme degree, and therefore remaining so quiet that there’s no trace to detect before taking direct action.
During that time, members of the Cleanup Unit were trained to the point where, even while harboring a fierce killing intent just before they attacked, they wouldn’t leak a single spark of it.
Therefore…
If what happens when the tightly condensed, fiercely trained, and ruthlessly restrained killing intent loses control and pours out…
Chizzz… Thud.
As the magic lights exploded, the lighting in the conference room went out. The elves in the room, all long-lived monarchs of the academy, began to respond immediately. However,
the fundamental instinct of mortals, as living beings, inevitably suppressed their actions.
The midday sunlight still streamed into the conference room from outside the barred window. The bright spring sky of the Idrenhill inland sea reflected blue.
And as that light passed through the bars and cast shadows inside the conference room, it lost its color and faded.
Gulp.
Of all places, sitting at the round table, one of the council members close to Ivan struggled to swallow.
He sat frozen, drenched in cold sweat, unable to dare turn his head. Like a frog mimicking before a predator. Desperately craving life.
Killing intent rushes in. Mana erupts. Everyone present, being capable enough to visually perceive mana, could witness that dark maelstrom firsthand.
It felt as if the room was filled with thick black smoke. Each flow of the killing intent was dense enough to burst a civilian’s heart.
In the midst of it all, the ominous blue eyes shining quietly were thankfully not directed at them.
They remained silent, like sheep before a lion.
“I have failed to keep most of the promises I made until now.”
Ivan’s voice cracked deeply, as if scraping metal.
“Live. Survive. I will surely protect you… Out of those worthless promises, I can hardly count on one hand what I have fulfilled. I am such a useless human.”
Those who followed him, the Cleanup Unit, the Great King and the Royal Guard, the fine knights of Tylesse, and Jill Ber, his long-time friends, even Veolgrin…
At the very least, the disciples of the Swordsmanship Faction too.
“Survive. Please, just stay alive.”
All those he had requested, in the end, perished and disappeared.
The lives of those individuals, their names, and their deaths. All of it felt like wounds, ripping at his soul. Wounds might fade over time, gathering dust upon them; however, scars never vanish.
Ivan stands here with a body and soul covered in scars.
All the scars remaining on his body are marks of his incompetence.
Yet despite that…
“But.”
Even so, he has accomplished at least one thing.
A declaration.
The plea to continue living. The promise to protect without fail. All of those failed due to his incompetence.
“Among those who declared they would kill, none are alive today.”
That declaration, at least, he had always kept throughout his not-so-short life.
Abiditas, the nobles of Krasilov, and the rebels of Tylesse.
Even the deity born in Idrenhill has died.
So…
“Ivan Petrovich Colonel. My words—”
“Do you remember? Do you remember the last words I spoke to you directly?”
“…”
“I remember.”
He had never forgotten.
“Don’t die. Please live long. Stay alive until I come to find you. I said that.”
“There can be opportunities in this world. Ivan Petrovich. Compared to the countless multitude of people, how many have died now—”
“Now I have come.”
Their conversation did not mesh.
Ivan fixated on the hastily opening mouth of Alexander, drawing the sword at his waist immediately.
Swish, the sound seemed to arrive later than the action. The moment the sound was heard, the blade had already been raised, reflecting the sunlight from outside the window within the dark room.
When confusion appeared in the corners of Alexander’s eyes, the blade had already escaped Ivan’s grip.
Zwaaaaa—!!
“Now I have arrived before you, and I shall fulfill the one thing I have lived for.”
The declaration to kill. That was the only promise he has kept.
Boom—!!
The sword, which was launched out, shattered the bow and disappeared into the sea. The boiling killing intent swept through the venue, taking those moments with it.
Afterward, neither Alexander nor Ivan remained in the conference room. The two jumped up onto the deck, following the crumbling walls.
“…Hoo.”
Someone let out a brief sigh. One of the elves who managed to escape from the vicious killing intent.
Everyone in this place realized at that moment. They could only imagine their own necks being broken uselessly. Even if they were great mages, there was no way they could overcome such a skilled swordsman unprepared within this distance.
Thus, the elves regained their composure once again.
“What kind of rudeness is this! How dare such barbaric behavior take place in the Council Chamber!”
“Those humans…!!”
The elves began to raise their voices to forget the sense of powerlessness and fear they felt. Seeing this, Edel pressed her brow and let out a low sigh.
“Cohenulf! Look at the chaos caused by that barbarian you brought!”
“Shut up. Don’t you have any shame?”
“What did you say?”
“That you are being swayed by a mere human, talking about colonies or a broader world… It’s pathetic.”
As Edel clicked her tongue, one elf stood up abruptly. Gathering mana in both hands, he growled.
“Do you think even if you are great, you can handle everyone here?”
“Of course not.”
The elves of the council are no easy opponents. The monarchs of the academy had spent as much time on magic as Edel had on her sword.
Each of them represents the essence of their respective academies.
However, this is a closed indoor space, and Edel is currently holding a sword.
This means that, facing unprepared mages, a prepared swordsman is present.
“Just five.”
“…What?”
“If all of you rush at me from now on, I will surely die. But I can at least take five. From the first who casts a spell, I will take the five of you as companions… Come.”
Swoosh.
Edel unsheathed her blade with her thumb and stood up. The elf who had been staring at her from his seat looked around with a startled expression.
There were those filled with anger, those observing the situation, and those watching him with intriguing eyes.
Yes, this is a den of wolves. The death of one council member meant the widening of another member’s interests. None here would shy away from competitors diminishing.
Thus, even if he were to make the first move, none of the others would follow him to attack Edel.
He could only bite his lip and sit back down.
Seeing that pitiful sight, Edel let out a deep sigh.
“I am feeling very, extremely, terribly displeased right now. My kin. I have killed half of my disciples with my own hands, while the other half perished under my command. To see this sight right after a victory… So, as the mere remaining master of the Swordsmanship Faction, I will say this.”
Edel leaned in and whispered ominously.
“If you lack the courage to fight, please do not try to show off. I am in a state of wanting to kill someone.”
*
On the deck, Alexander quickly surveyed his surroundings. He saw elves gazing at him with astonished expressions.
Smiling, he approached them and quickly disarmed them. The moment they realized it, the disarmed elves panicked and retreated from him.
There was no time to explain or to cast spells.
Like a storm, like a tsunami crashing down, like monsters surging up from deep below.
A vividly visible killing intent swirled before him.
“Colonel Petrovich. If you listen to my explanation, you would understand.”
The one remaining sword had already been thrown away, and bullets could never harm a superhuman.
So he had no weapon.
Alexander raised his sword and continued quickly.
“Do not think about those who died in war. You should look at those who survived afterwards. In the course of this world’s history, never have individual rights been as elevated as they are now—”
“Cleanup Unit. 711.”
Killing intent roared like an injured beast amidst the storm.
“Royal Guard. 1132.”
The killing intent shimmered. One of the elves beside him clutched their heart with a pained expression and collapsed.
“Among the soldiers who had to engage, including the Conqueror Ivan the Great King, there were 6193.”
Pale faces were seen among the rushing humans, gazing at the shimmering killing intent.
“Due to Tylesse’s civil war, including Jill Ber, 20,000 soldiers and knights devoted themselves, along with all the righteous souls left of the Swordsmanship Faction and the Cleanup Unit in Idrenhill…”
A young man without legs, supported by others, responded in a stiff voice.
“To the deaths of all those heroes. A death sentence.”
Silhouettes shimmered beyond the killing intent. The dead resembled phantoms, becoming clearer and clearer.
In the frozen time, racing alone before death, Alexander gritted his teeth and held his sword upright.
“Ivan Petrovich! You can put your strength to more meaningful use! I want to save the world—”
“Revenge is not meaningless.”
The killing intent had come closer. Through terrible mana refracting even the brilliant midday sunlight, ominous blue eyes were gleaming like a serpent.
There were no weapons. His physical condition was not normal, his mana was at its lowest, and his soul, containing the sacred, was on the verge of shattering.
Since arriving in Idrenhill, he had not rested for a single moment, only continuing to battle. By the last moments, he had died and resurrected dozens of times.
Ivan could be considered to be in a state nearly miraculous just from walking now.
On the other hand, Alexander was different. The training and education he had received since childhood, the honed skills developed through battlefield experience, the talents he excelled in both magic and swordsmanship, and experiences cultivated while working from behind the scenes of the world.
When projecting all that, he believed he could evade even a member of the Hero Party. That was his self-assessment.
But in this moment…
Crack.
The hand that approached silently.
A hand covered in scars. A flimsy arm tangled messily with new and old scars, with tendons writhing like snakes inside.
Even when it grabbed his head, he could not muster the resistance.
“However, it is suitable for a tribute to those who have died meaninglessly.”
Thus…
“I will no longer delay your death.”
Taking a step forward to disrupt his balance, below the grasp of Ivan’s hand firmly squeezing Alexander’s head.
Crack. It slammed onto the deck.
*
In this place, there was only one person moving.
Born of impoverished rural tenant farmers. Participating in a great war as a conscript. Dreaming of the conqueror known as the Great King and joining the Royal Guard.
Having lost all comrades, after a long military career, finally retiring.
Yet still, he had only dedication. Even without any rewards from the nation, without any honor in the world.
Stubborn, steadfast, uncompromising.
Not a young man from another world, but merely a man from Krasilov.
A man who remembers all past scars.
Crack!
Silently, he moves.
