119. Master of Sorcery

“Ha, haha…”

A dry laugh escaped.

Repeating the act of laughing without any emotion, and then, abruptly:

“Wearying.”

The fellow’s face, now devoid of blood, was a mask of utter blankness.

“An imitation?”

The man muttered, as if savoring the word.

He chuckled hollowly, incredulous.

“I never imagined I’d hear such a thing after living this long.”

The man asks, turning towards the Grand Master’s companion.

“What are you doing? Why haven’t you killed him?”

Kaaang!

Isaac’s body was flung into the air.

A greatsword swung, aiming to crush both swords in his hands.

He had anticipated it, reacting in time, but was still overwhelmed by the sheer force.

“…!”

The woman, referred to as Number 2, sheathed her blade indifferently.

Isaac felt a jarring shock that numbed his arms, but she seemed as if she merely checked it.

“Kuh!”

“Isn’t it amusing?”

The man slowly approached Isaac, who had been pushed back.

“That someone who can’t even withstand *that*, dares to call me an imitation to my face.”

“Stifling the mouth, doesn’t change the truth.”

“…Your tongue is first-rate, at least.”

Number 2 bypassed the man and lunged toward Isaac once more. The greatsword, once nestled in its scabbard, unleashed another flash of lethal force.

A swift draw and strike.

Gathering every last shred of killing intent, I’d make sure to take it this time.

The world began to bleed into shades of cerulean.

From somewhere, screams echoed.

They emanated from the twin blades gripped in my hands.

Amidst the wails of the dead, Isaac’s stance met the iaido.

– Keeeeaaak!

– Wooo!

A bizarre phenomenon, indeed.

Swords clashed, yet the air vibrated with human screams.

Even Number Two couldn’t mask her disquiet, her eyes, shadowed beneath the woven hat, wavered, blurred.

Locked in a deadlock at the tsuba, she wrenched one blade free and rammed it into the back of her ōdachi.

Isaac’s twin swords, sandwiched like a vise, now pinned her greatsword.

Using the force of White Snow, I was about to shatter the ōdachi, as if crushing a human bone, when…

“……!”

Startled, Number Two poured renewed strength into the blade she swung.

Whoosh!

This time, not a cut, but a strike meant to push me back. Less keen, perhaps, but weighted with immense force.

“Cheap tricks…”

Number Two muttered, a peculiar expression on her face, her gaze upon Isaac laced with complex emotions.

She seemed to mull over unspoken words, about to pose a question.

But, feeling the pressure of the man’s stare, she refrained and lunged at Isaac once more.

‘Like the Grand Master himself.’

The swordsmanship was shockingly alike.

Conversely, that’s what let Isaac endure. His body felt like it was breaking, his hands were numb, yet…

Still, he lived. He could endure.

Would this be the feeling of fighting the Grand Master?

Surely, it would.

The woman relentlessly wielded her sword, ever so close, yet never quite landing a blow, emotionless.

“Ah.”

Space twisted.

Again.

It happened again.

Number Two, her face etched with bewilderment, turned to look at the man.

He frowned, then sighed, a reaction of resignation.

And so, Number Two vanished.

Isaac, left alone, said nothing, but steadied himself and pressed onward.

“Lucky, weren’t you?”

The man chuckled, hoisting his greatsword-shaped Jeokgang over his shoulder.

He clearly resented having to intervene, yet there was no further hesitation.

But Isaac’s eyes remained fixed on the spot where Number Two had disappeared.

‘Something…’

Reaching this point, the situation felt almost clear.

His thoughts flowed, ever closer to the truth.

“Then receive the sword called Imitation.”

A greatsword of crimson iron, raised high.

So vast was the crimson iron, far exceeding even Arundel’s capacity, that it failed to be contained, scattering in all directions.

A scarlet wind dominated the space, swallowing everything in its path, raging around him.

Yet, he saw it as an opportunity.

‘I’ve done this before.’

Isaac lowered his stance slightly, his sword moving smoothly in the air, as if tracing the wind’s flow.

A ghostly energy seized the crimson iron, as if drawn by a magnet. Like the hands of the dead, it craved overwhelming power, absorbing it all.

Soon, crimson iron coalesced upon Isaac’s blade.

“Ha! Never seen someone fight with another man’s scraps before!”

He sneered, full of contempt.

“Is that your answer, in the end? Picking at the leavings of the man called Imitation? You’re no better than a rat-!”

“You *are* Imitation.”

The man’s expression hardened once more.

By now, the man was almost consumed by curiosity.

“Just what do you see that makes you say such a thing?”

The crimson iron raging nearby had formed something akin to a barrier.

Only two people were here.

Perhaps that was why the man spoke more frankly to Isaac.

“Just what do you know that makes you call me Imitation?”

He had believed it to be the perfect lie.

But if someone had seen through it, then a liar’s instinct demanded he understand what mistake he had made.

“I can’t help but know.”

Sadly, Isaac wasn’t trying to discern the lie.

He simply couldn’t help but know.

Because he had walked the same path.

“Because I, too, admired him-.”

The difference being, perhaps.

“I tried to emulate him.”

The man had wielded a blade, while Isaac had taken up pen and paper.

They had desired the same thing, and foolishly, walked in the same direction.

Except, the man had been satisfied and stopped.

While Isaac had realized it was not the answer and abandoned it.

“You are-.”

The man’s gaze shifted, a subtle change.

He had dismissed Isaac as mere loudmouthed trash, but now he saw something different.

In truth, Isaac was the only one who had pierced the truth.

“Tch, quite right.”

Was it because we were alone?

Or perhaps he simply needed to spill the bitter dregs he’d been carrying.

The man conceded, frankly.

“That wretch’s swordsmanship… it was truly magnificent. I question how one could even attain such skill.”

“…….”

“The small devouring the large. It was exactly that spectacle.”

*Kudddddeudeuk!*

The crimson greatsword, eclipsing the sky, shot skyward in a torrent.

“This was a first for me.”

His voice was laced with self-mockery, yet also held a hollow resignation.

The only one who noticed the truth he couldn’t confess to anyone.

Thanks to that, it was easier to reveal it, if only slightly.

Because he would be taking my life immediately.

“To think I would yearn for a human.”

The sky-devouring greatsword descended.

The moment I saw it, I knew without difficulty what swordsmanship it was derived from.

The magnificent sword technique Arandel had displayed.

The Annihilating Crimson Strike.

The *Myeolhonggyeok*.

Loengreen Hellmunt had also imitated it, only to have it thwarted by Isaac at the time.

‘I can do it.’

Confidence swelled.

Hadn’t I grown even more since then?

Hellmunt’s near-secret technique, the *Myeolhonggyeok*, I had already defeated once.

That technique, possessing overwhelming power, demanded a user with meticulous skill.

The crimson aura filling my vision had, by now, reached a point where it no longer resembled a greatsword.

Because I couldn’t encompass it all in a single glance.

‘I can do it.’

Once more.

I would break it.

Isaac’s sword danced.

Even the dregs of crimson aura were wielded in a unique manner.

Enough to seem deserving of the ‘Hellmunt’ name he once bore.

The malevolent energy and crimson aura swirling around the blade distorted the *Myeolhonggyeok*’s flow.

To be frank, coldly.

Loengreen’s version possessed superior refinement.

The *Myeolhonggyeok* the man unleashed was, by comparison, a wretched thing.

As Isaac swung his sword, the crimson aura before him scattered like stirred water, veering to the sides.

Like rocks in a waterfall.

The torrent of crimson aura, akin to cascading water, failed to break him, instead parting and fragmenting as it flowed.

That was once.

Twice.

A moment repeating itself, time and again.

‘Just… how long will this—’

I don’t know.

Before I knew it, my vision swirled, choked with crimson haze like a dense red fog.

It felt like walking through a sandstorm.

As if everything around me, imbued with that red energy, was malevolently glaring, poised to swallow me whole.

“Hah, agh—!”

Even my breathing was ragged.

Not from exertion.

The crimson energy that blanketed everything seemed to be crushing the very air, blocking my access to oxygen.

It became harder and harder to breathe, I felt as if I was being buried alive.

‘Master, Silverna—’

Had I ultimately failed to protect her?

Just as I was about to fall to my knees.

VWoooM!

A wind cleaved through the wind.

Clearly the same crimson energy, yet far more intense, and palpably solid.

I raised my lowered head.

In an instant, the sky had cleared.

There, I saw the back of my ex-wife.

Rianna Helmundt.

“…”

She said nothing.

She merely gripped her greatsword and glared at the man before her.

“Rianna Helmundt? The current head of the Helmundt family. Finally, I meet you.”

The man greeted Rianna.

Even so, he clicked his tongue as if displeased that he hadn’t managed to kill Isaac.

“Just who is that b*stard?!”

“Isaac! Are you alright?”

Loengreen and Sharen followed close behind.

Loengreen looked panicked at the sight of the man, while Sharen, on the verge of tears, tended to Isaac.

“Hah… hah!”

Isaac gasped for the breath he’d been holding, forcing himself to stand. His grip on his sword nearly faltered as his hands lost strength.

He couldn’t allow it.

“I must— protect Master!”

He needed to.

He wanted to tell them to go and check on the Grandmaster first, but…

She was clearly knocked down and in bad shape, the Grandmaster was gone.

He couldn’t move on his own, nor did it seem like that fiend had disposed of the Grand Master.

Because the fellow had already lost interest in him.

Then… who?

Panicked, I looked around for the Grand Master, and Sharen, reassuringly, helped me up.

“Damaen took him! So Isaac, please, go back! Your condition is too bad!”

“Damaen…?”

The Grand Master’s only disciple.

The thief, the traitor who, in my past life, ultimately betrayed us?

It felt like a hammer blow, but relief was greater.

I heard he had followed us to reclaim the North, but he had been operating separately.

I wondered where he was, but it seemed he had been diligently trailing the Grand Master, intent on fulfilling his purpose.

Of course, it wouldn’t have been possible if Isaac hadn’t drawn such fierce attention.

Unintentionally, Isaac had provoked the b*stard splendidly, stealing all the limelight.

As a result, he saved the Grand Master.

“Thank, goodness…”

Tears of relief welled up, but I barely held them back.

Nothing was over yet.

“Ah, Hellmunt. My former self. It fills me with emotion to see you grown so magnificently.”

“…”

“My name is Helix. Your name, ‘Hellmunt’, was taken from mine.”

A shocking statement, to be sure.

Loengreen and Sharen stared at Helix in dismay.

After all, the sudden truth that they were mixed-bloods of the Transcendent Race had been revealed.

Anyone would be shaken.

“So what.”

Except for Rianna.

Rianna, greatsword in hand, looked up at Helix.

“Saying useless things won’t change anything.”

The greatsword in her hands emanated Crimson Qi.

A much higher concentration than what she had unleashed with her fists before.

“Hmph, paltry.”

But even seeing that, Helix merely sneered. He gathered Crimson Qi again, as if it were limitless.

Just now, Annihilation Bloom was being prepared once more.

And.

“Endure… then we win.”

Isaac said, catching his breath.

Rianna, her gaze fixed on Helix, asked back.

“What do you mean?”

“He… he can’t last long either.”

Helix’s eyes widened slightly. Then, his gaze turned back to Isaac.

“The Master of the Malridian Barrier-shifting Sorcery. I… I’ve figured it out.”

He forces the words out, fighting down a wave of nausea. Seeing Number Two, that peer of the Grand Master, vanish like that… now, he was certain.

The irregular spatial shifts happening to the Transcendents all at once.

“That itself… was the cost.”

Isn’t it strange?

Even before coming here, Transcendents had been appearing by twisting space.

Each time, they were purged, essentially picked off one by one.

Transcendents who, if they gathered even thirty, could pose a grave threat to the Left Wing.

Why did they appear and fight separately?

There was only one reason.

They couldn’t control it, either.

That was why the Black Hound had appeared so suddenly, and why those who dropped into the middle of the unit were so bewildered.

They had been spatially shifted by the cost.

“Ha.”

The monster’s eyes curve like a crescent moon.

“Hahaha! You certainly seem to know everything, don’t you? Are you truly so knowledgeable about us?”

Helic even drops his staff and claps. The staff floats beside him, held in place.

“We twisted space. As such, we bear the responsibility for it. That is the cost.”

“Then, that thing will also disappear soon?”

Isaac only nods in response to Loengreen’s question.

Judging from what had happened so far, the Transcendents who appear eventually return after some time.

He probably didn’t have much time left, either.

“However, there is something you overlook. That I am quite accomplished in sorcery.”

Indeed, what he held most closely was a staff rather than a sword.

“As a sorcerer who has used sorcery, resistance is possible. Roughly… enough time to kill all of you?”

When he first arrived here, spatial shifts of Transcendents had happened around him all at once.

Perhaps that was not a spatial shift at all, but rather, a delaying of the cost.

“Simply put.”

*Sreung.*

Rianna nods calmly.

“If we land a good hit, he’ll return on his own.”

At her words, Isaac takes a breath and steps forward.

“Correct.”

Watching the man and woman before him, Helic smiled with amusement.